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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 6 - ao3 -

As Lao Nie had predicted, Lan Qiren won the music competition.

This by itself would not excuse him from punishment – disobedience was disobedience, regardless of the result – but Lan Qiren’s brother, proud of the glory that had accrued to their sect under his leadership, decided that it mitigated it somewhat, and as a result the imposition of the appropriate penalty was postponed until they returned to the Cloud Recesses. There was a strong implication that any future misbehavior during the trip would be added in when determining the extent of the punishment, but Lan Qiren didn’t care about that: with his brother’s word, however careless, overriding his teacher’s, he was finally allowed to go out to look around the Nightless City.

Of course, by now all the other disciples had settled firmly into their groups, so he was still alone - he opted not to mention that to his brother. Given how cautious his brother was being to make sure that the conference went well and without interruption, he knew it would invariably result in his either being forced into someone else’s group or to not go out, and he didn’t want either of those. Anyway, he could take precautions by himself: since he knew he was traveling alone, he would be careful to stay in the areas that were indicated as safe, although he thought happily to himself that soon he would be old enough to go wherever he wanted without concern – not that he especially longed to go to the districts full of brothels or drug dens, of course.

It was reasonable to be cautious for now, though, given his unfamiliarity with cities. He was as dazzled by the massive night market – as boisterous as any of the daytime markets – as any country yokel, and the items available for purchase were as many and varied as the people who came to the Nightless City to sell them. It was almost a pity to have to return to the Sun Palace the next day for the remaining events of the discussion conferences, largely academic discussions and skill exchanges, or the day after, to spectate on the other competitions, both the minor ones for things like calligraphy and mathematics and, more importantly, the second main event, showcasing skill in riding.

Lan Qiren wasn’t competing, of course, but he obediently showed up to observe – or, rather, to daydream about something more interesting while keeping his face carefully oriented towards the competition stage – and the second he could, he slipped away into the depths of the Sun Palace once the competition itself was over. Actually leaving entirely would be rude, of course, even if it would have been his real preference to return to the wonders of the city. Still, he would much rather walk through the halls than endure the inevitable rounds of mutual congratulations that invariably occurred during the celebration held after the discussion conference’s main competition. All those sect leaders buttering each other up…

There were times, he reflected, when he was very happy to have been born a younger son.

Lan Qiren did his best to avoid any places where people were gathered, turning back at once if he saw the rooms were occupied. There was no formal banquet tonight, to his relief – they’d all eaten while waiting for the competition to finish – but the socializing had started in earnest, and it felt like there were people everywhere. It would go on late into the night, with sect leaders toasting each other from the endless jars of wine that could be found everywhere, and there would be a thousand and one boring retellings of the same old stories everyone always told at these things.

Better to avoid people.

Certainly better to avoid people like Wen Ruohan, Lan Qiren thought, backing away from a room that appeared to be a small library, where the sect leader was standing and gazing out of the window, not far from a small table with two place settings already laid out. Its presence suggested a more private rendezvous was anticipated, and others more inclined to gossip than he might have chosen to stay and try to see if they could figure out who Wen Ruohan would be meeting – probably Lao Nie, if Lan Qiren had to guess, given the whole Hanhan situation – or possibly to try to form a further connection with the aloof and arrogant sect leader, but Lan Qiren kept his brother’s warnings in mind: Wen Ruohan was dangerous.

Anyway, he’d gotten into more than enough trouble for one trip.

After a little more searching, he found a small, secluded garden – quite possibly the very same one from a few days before, now that he thought about it, though he’d long lost any sense of direction he might have had – and settled down on the bench with a relieved sigh. The party was far too loud and too boisterous for his taste, with far too many people. He might long for adventure and new experiences, but it was the lonely road and quiet towns that called to him, and sometimes also the massive and faceless cities, not the full-of-themselves sect leaders, each one in love with their own voice, that seemed to pride themselves on talking at least once to everyone who attended.

At any rate, it wasn’t his problem. His brother had made clear that he didn’t want Lan Qiren to assist him in forming connections for the sect – assuming he even could, with his terrible social skills that mostly made his brother and most of his etiquette teachers want to forget he even existed – and that meant he was completely justified in hiding himself away here where no one would find him.

“I never got a chance to congratulate you on your victory,” a low voice said from behind him, and Lan Qiren started in sudden surprise, having not heard someone enter the room.

Though, he supposed as he rose to salute, he wouldn’t – the difference between his cultivation and Wen Ruohan’s was like night and day.

“Sect Leader Wen,” he said respectfully, keeping his head down. His brother had been especially clear that he wasn’t to cause trouble for this man in particular. Not like last time, even though Lan Qiren still wasn’t entirely clear on what it was that he was supposed to have done wrong previously. He was starting to think he’d never figure it out.

Wen Ruohan walked into the room, his pace as slow and graceful as it had been three years ago – the glide of a very self-assured predator that knew itself to be the unquestioned master of its domain, not only fearless but also smug in its self-evident superiority. The aura of power, his cultivation at a level that could scarcely be dreamed of by most people, draped around him like a gaudy cloak, meant to excite envy and fear in equal measure.

Lan Qiren had heard rumors that Wen Ruohan would sometimes use the sheer weight of his power to lock people into place, forcing them to their knees or backs on the floor in front of him, humiliating and tormenting them for his own amusement, but he didn’t feel anything like that. It was a display of power, yes, but no more so than the priceless spiritual gem that hung on Wen Ruohan’s forehead or the luxurious quality of his clothing, white and red flame, black belt and gauntlets, the finest fabrics and the best embroidery.

“I thought I saw you earlier,” Wen Ruohan remarked. “Or at least the hem of your robes – were you running away from me?”

Lan Qiren’s face suddenly felt hot with embarrassment. “No, of course not!”

That interpretation hadn’t even occurred to him. Had he really been rude? Should he have stopped to greet him properly? He hadn’t thought so, since he hadn’t even entered the room, but his instincts on such things had always been terrible…

And there was still his brother’s exhortation not to spend time with Wen Ruohan.

“Forgive my rudeness, Sect Leader Wen,” he said, dropping back down into a second low bow before rising again. “No slight was intended. I’m not supposed to be alone with other sect leaders.”

“No? And yet yesterday I recall seeing you sitting here with Sect Leader Nie.”

That was true.

What was he supposed to say to that? ‘Yes, but he’s nice’? ‘But I’ve known him for years’? ‘He’s one of our sect allies, you’re too dangerous’? ‘I was told to avoid you specifically’?

Lan Qiren might not be the best at social niceties, but even he knew he couldn’t say something like that.

His face must be demonstrating some degree of his panic, because Wen Ruohan chuckled.

“You can make it up by spending some time with me now, little Lan,” he said, waving a hand in forgiveness. “Come with me – the study is far more comfortable than this garden, especially at this time of year.”

Lan Qiren didn’t really have any knowledge of what the garden was like at this time as opposed to other times, being that this was his only visit so far to the Nightless City, but he had no reason to question Wen Ruohan’s judgment on the matter.

A quick mental review suggested that he had no choice but to comply. His brother had been emphatic that Lan Qiren wasn’t allowed to draw Wen Ruohan’s ire, even if it meant complying with his instructions as if Wen Ruohan were an elder of his own sect; moreover, refusing now would probably be impolitic, especially given the other man’s misinterpretation of his earlier avoidance. In short, despite his best efforts, Lan Qiren had clearly stumbled into a social trap of what he assumed must be his own making. It usually was, after all.

It’ll be another punishment for this, probably, he thought, resigned. He didn’t think that anyone was going to come get him out of this anytime soon, no matter what his brother had said, and he was bound to trip up and say something embarrassing sooner or later. At least there’s only this evening and then the closing ceremonies in the morning – the sooner we get home, the sooner discipline can be imposed and the entire fiasco put behind us.

“Of course, Sect Leader Wen,” he said, and belatedly noticed that some of his resignation had seeped into his voice. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I will join you.”

Wen Ruohan chuckled again. “Most people would say that they were pleased to join me,” he remarked, turning and leading the way, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. “But you don’t lie, do you? It’s one of your rules.”

Lan Qiren felt helpless, following a few steps behind him like a small fishing boat caught in the wake of a warship. “It is one of our rules,” he agreed, since saying that he was happy to join Wen Ruohan would in fact be a lie. “I try to obey them whenever possible.”

“You’ve gotten wiser since we last met. I think I recall that last time, you said always obey the rules?”

“Wisdom comes with age.”

“Is that flattery?”

“Respect for one’s elders.” Lan Qiren paused. “Also a rule.”

“Of course,” Wen Ruohan opened the door to the study that he had been in earlier, the small library with its single table and two settings and window showing the outdoors, and swept inside. “Tell me, then, as the expert in your rules – what rule is it that allows the Lan sect to develop such skilled politicians? One would assume that lying was a prerequisite.”

He doesn’t actually care about the rules, Lan Qiren tried to remind himself, his brother’s voice echoing in his ears. And yet what else could he possibly talk about with Wen Ruohan? It was a question the other man had posed directly, and he was supposed to be obedient, or at least try to be…and he really, truly enjoyed talking about the rules.

“There’s some debate on that subject,” he temporized, but Wen Ruohan arched an eyebrow and inclined his head in an invitation for him to continue. “Some posit that the rules regarding the obligations to honor one’s elders and protect one’s family require that the benefit of the sect take priority over other obligations. Others take the view that not lying is an obligation of general good conduct, which cannot be disregarded, but that it is mitigated by other rules – do not speak frivolous words, for instance.”

“I take it that you’re in the latter camp.”

Lan Qiren was, as it happened, but he wasn’t sure he should say so. After all, it was Wen Ruohan’s ancestor who had first raised up his family and started the tradition of the clan as the sect rather than schools as it had once been, and by all accounts the process of doing so had been a bloody one – what was that if not a belief that your family takes priority over the common good?

He couldn’t say that, though.

Speak meagerly, for excess words only bring harm.

“I am,” he finally said, since Wen Ruohan was still waiting for him to respond. “It is a matter of personal opinion.”

He bit his tongue to keep himself from continuing to talk. There were at least fifteen other points of interest that had come to mind at once - the rule against lying was one of the more debated ones, and of course there were all sorts of writings on the subject of balancing worldly concerns with philosophical ideals more generally. And it was so rare for someone to actually express interest in it!

Speak meagerly, he reminded himself desperately. Meagerly! Haven’t you done enough harm already?

“I see,” Wen Ruohan said. “Come, sit.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose on the sect leader’s time,” Lan Qiren protested automatically. “If you’re already expecting company…”

“Who says I am?”

Lan Qiren looked helplessly at the table. There were two place settings, as he’d briefly glimpsed earlier, and a few snacks laid out already, mostly grilled vegetables – it was perfect place for a private meeting to talk business with another sect leader, which Lan Qiren wasn’t, or else to sit and converse with an old friend, which Lan Qiren definitely wasn’t.

“The servants make it up that way preemptively,” Wen Ruohan said, and Lan Qiren twitched as he realized that the other man had come up behind him, standing a little too close. “They do it in all the rooms, in the event someone wishes to use it. There’s no one coming.”

For some reason, that sounded almost ominous.

Presumably just Lan Qiren’s bad social sense again. Such a display was likely nothing more than the Wen sect showing off yet again, this time in terms of their wealth and the number of servants.

And, well, if the table really had just been set out to be used, surely it would be wrong not to use it? There were rules about avoiding waste, too.

“In that case, I thank Sect Leader Wen for the honor of the invitation,” he said, and sat down properly, sweeping his sleeves back and arranging himself. That it got him a little further away from Wen Ruohan was not as much of a secondary consideration as it probably should have been. “Would you like me to serve tea?”

“I was thinking something stronger,” Wen Ruohan said, sitting down as well, and reaching for the jar already there. “Why not a toast to your family’s victory? A double victory, no less, with you taking first in music and your brother the same in riding. Most impressive.”

Lan Qiren hesitated. That was a very appropriate toast, complimentary – exactly within the boundaries of what an elder ought to say to a junior, really. And yet, at the same time…

“Sect Leader Wen,” he said uncomfortably as Wen Ruohan poured out a double helping in each bowl. It was clear liquor, not wine. “This one apologizes, but…I am not accustomed to drinking.”

“No?” Wen Ruohan was smiling, but when Lan Qiren obediently met his eyes, there seemed almost to be something dangerous about his expression.

“It’s not that I question the quality,” Lan Qiren said hastily. “It’s only – you see – alcohol is prohibited –”

It was one of the rules. Unfortunately, it was one of the more controversial ones: it was generally waived outside of the Cloud Recesses, given how often hospitality required some form of drinking, and there were still elders in the Lan sect who simply refused to obey it at all, citing its uncertain lineage.

They were not in the Cloud Recesses now.

Wen Ruohan started laughing. “Little Lan,” he said. “Are you saying you’ve never had wine before? Aren’t you sixteen already?”

Lan Qiren’s shoulders involuntarily rose to his ears. “I’ve had wine!”

But only peach blossom wine, or rose wine, served at weddings as a toast for good fortune – but he couldn’t admit to that, since that was all kid’s stuff, barely classified as alcohol. He’d never even tried Emperor’s Smile, for which Gusu was famed.

Wen Ruohan’s smirk suggested that he’d guessed the truth anyway.

“It’s only a toast,” he said instead of calling him out on it, picking up his own bowl. “Surely you wouldn’t reject my good faith?”

When it was put like that, of course, there was nothing to be done for it.

Do not draw his ire, his brother had counseled him. If he approaches you, respond gracefully and comply with his wishes until someone comes to recover you.

After all, Wen Ruohan was well known for being moody and unpredictable, for having all sorts of strange whims and no inclination to refrain from indulging himself in them. Lan Qiren had no idea why he might suddenly be inclined to desire Lan Qiren’s company, of all people, nor as to why he would insist on him drinking a toast – at most, he could only speculate that it amused Wen Ruohan to force him to do things with which he was visibly uncomfortable.

And yet, as the saying went, it was unwise to refuse a toast only to be forced to drink a forfeit. Wen Ruohan, as the host, as the elder, as the powerful, could very easily press the issue even more than he already was, escalating from an interpersonal discussion to an intersect issue.

And how could Lan Qiren explain that to his brother?

“Of course not,” Lan Qiren said, giving in and lifting the bowl. “Thank you for your toast, Sect Leader Wen.”

He put the bowl to his lips and drank.

The liquor tasted sharp in a way with which he was unfamiliar, he observed, curious despite himself at the new experience, and it burned his throat when he swallowed. The sensation was almost distinctly unpleasant, actually, and he had to force his gag reflex not to activate, tears coming to his eyes.

He wondered, briefly, why people inflicted such a thing on themselves.

And then, just as he was thinking that, the alcohol hit him all at once like a tidal wave, descending in an overwhelming crash that obliterated all his senses.

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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thatonetimetraveller · 3 years

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Chapter 2 - Cin Vhetin - T’ad

22 BBY - 7955

Din woke slowly this time, the beeping of medical equipment audible through the helmet’s audio sensors. He could sense movement just outside his peripheral vision so he sat slowly taking care not to pull at his back… the constant ache of the old wound was gone. Alertness coming back to him as he remembered the disjointed events of the day prior. His mind was sluggish but at least he could think clearly, the too big helmet helping him stay grounded. He was 30 years in the past, in the child version of his body. He flexed his hands and stretched his back, he groaned in satisfaction. He hasn't been able to do that since the injury, his back was always too stiff. Yes, he was definitely smaller. The weight of his red robes registered and he sucked in a breath, he hadn't seen those robes since his parents’ death. He lifted the edge of it under his helmet and gave it a good sniff. Ka’ra, it smelled like Aq-Vetina, the rich earthy scent of his first parents still strong, mixed with the distinct smell of spices on the market. There were other smells too like ash and blood but for once he ignored those, basking in the memory of his birth parents.

The door opened and Helix walked in, datapad in hand. He glanced up when he sensed Din looking at him and gave him a gentle smile

“Hey, kid” Helix pulled up a stool beside the bed and sat, keeping himself relaxed. Din nodded in greeting the helmet wobbling on his head.

“Do you know where you are?” Helix asked gently and Din tried not to let his irritation show since he did attack them yesterday and his mind was still hazy

“A Republic cruiser” He answered and Helix nodded

“Good. Can you tell me the year?” Din paused just to make sure he got the date right since it’s been decades since he last used CRC

“7955” Helix gave him a gentle smile and stood and began to fiddle with one of the medical equipment in the room. Din watched him like a hawk when a thought occurred to him in his still sluggish mind.

“Did you drug me?” he asked suspiciously and Helix stilled and turned back to Din

“Yes. Some weak sedatives and a mild Force suppressant” Din furrowed his eyebrows at that

“Force suppressant?” Why would he need that? He doesn’t have magic like Grogu or the jetii. Helix hummed

“The General suggested it since you weren’t sleeping well” he explained but Din was even more lost

“What do my dreams have to do with magic osik?” He asked incredulously and Helix froze as a scanner clattered on the floor

“Kark” He swore as he gathered the dropped item, shaken; though how Din knew since Helix appeared perfectly composed was a mystery. He turned to Din muttering some curse under his breath then leveling Din with a serious look

“You don’t know?” he asked and Din was starting to get nervous that something was wrong with him

“Know what?” He tilted his head to the side in confusion. Helix closed his eyes in pain and sighed

“Can I comm the General? He would be more suited for this conversation” Din looked at Helix in shock, the short time he knew the medic he was always confident knowing what to say, taking control of the situation with ease. Anxiety rolled in his stomach, but his instincts weren’t giving him any bad vibes so he reluctantly nodded

“Sure,” he said. Helix jumped into action and keyed in the General’s frequency, he picked up a tense minute later

“General, there’s a problem in room 27” Helix said voice level and the comm was silent for agonizingly long seconds

“Copy that” Kenobi’s voice was on edge as he disconnected from the comm. Helix sat back on the stool

“It’s nothing bad, Beroya” He tried to soothe. Din raised an eyebrow and tilted his bucket with a snort filled with disbelief

“I’m not a child, you don’t have to coddle me” Helix sucked in a breath his eyes filling with pain

“Oh, right”

The door hissed open and Kenobi rushed in followed by Kote, Din relaxed at the sight of them.

“Is everything alright vod?” Kote asked in a harsh and caring voice. Helix stood, gave Kote a nod with a small smile, and turned to Kenobi

“General he uh… doesn’t know” Both of them looked at Helix in shock the medic did not hesitate - ever. Kenobi blinked in confusion, then his eyes settled over Din while Kote eyed Helix. Din was so confused. What doesn’t he know? It was something fundamentally big he managed to miss in over 40 years. He watched warily as Obi-Wan pulled another chair from the corner and sat, Kote settled on the edge of his bed patting his leg comfortingly.

“What did Helix tell you?” Obi-Wan asked and Din’s attention snapped to him

“I was given sedatives and a Force suppressant?” he furrowed his eyebrows “I was told it helped me sleep better” Din was plagued with nightmares and dreams that came true since he was a child. Sometimes they remained in his head as an eerie echo or other times they were weird and cryptic but they always came true and left him more exhausted than he should be when he woke. Strangely though when the goran gave his beskar buy’ce the intensity of the dreams lessened, she said it would help him.

“Yes, visions are taxing on your body and mental wellbeing so in extreme cases or with an untrained Force user, mild Force suppressants are given to limit your exposure. Don’t worry it shouldn’t interfere with your connection to the Force too much” Kenobi gave him a reassuring smile and panic was rising violently in Din despite the sedatives.

“General, I think you went a bit too fast” Kote commented, his voice heavy with barely concealed sarcasm but Din could tell he was laughing on the inside. Din’s mind was blank, his hands were shaking

“I-I don’t understand. My dreams… I … have jetii magic? Neret’yc” he mumbled and grabbed the sides of his helmet with his shaking hands caught in his own feedback loop of panic and confusion

“Oh dear,” Obi-Wan mumbled while Kote scrambled off the bed and knelt in front of him gently prying his hands away from the bucket.

“Gar morut’yc” He whispered. Din slowly came down from the panic, his mind still an anxious mess but he could think again. He really should stop losing control like that. It was like his usual controls were gone and everything felt more powerful than usual, including his own emotions. It was exhausting and humiliating still, he thanked Kote and turned back to Obi-Wan who looked at him sheepishly.

“I’m sorry, Beroya. I shouldn’t have dumped it onto you like that. I assumed you knew” Discomfort weighed heavy on his heart at the apology but before he could say anything Helix whacked Kenobi on the back of his head. He let out a quiet oof. Terror spiked in Kote as he stared in shock

“Di’kut. That’s why I called you here” Helix snipped, then his face morphed into horror as his words registered and at Kenobi’s bewildered stare “Sir” he added as he straightened fearfully

“I deserved that one” Obi-Wan smiled and patted Helix on the arm. Once the General conceded, Kote burst into giggles, his lingering fear also disappearing from his shoulders. Helix glowered at him

“So… I have jetii magic?” Din asked before the vode could start a fight. Obi-Wan grimaced

“The Force but yes” Din hummed processing the information trying to put the two separate boxes of jetii osik and Mando’ade together without much success. There was something missing.

“What I want to know is how did Beroya miss this for over 30 odd years?” Kote interjected and he had a point. Obi-Wan stroked his beard in thought

“Many Force sensitive adults don’t know as the Force doesn’t always manifest with telekinesis, it could be good instincts, faster reaction time, better aim, visions of the future in dreams or just a heightened sense of empathy” Obi-Wan explained. Din looked down at his hand curiously

“I thought I always had good instincts” he mumbled “It feels different now though” Kote’s eyes snapped to his bucked in alarm, Helix’s hand tightening on his arm to keep him in place

“How?” Obi-Wan probed. Din, shrugged

“Clearer and louder. I… out of control” he said, words failing to convey the difference. Obi-Wan sucked in a breath

“Are you shielding, young one?” Din tilted his head in confusion

“I can protect my mind?” He asked innocently and Obi-Wan’s hand returned to his beard in thought then his eyes lit up in understanding

“Was your beskar’gam made of beskar?” he asked and Din bristled

“Of course it was,” he said with a little pride in his voice, his armor was his life after all. Obi-Wan tongue clicked

“Beskar blocks the Force. There are special alloys with a lower concentration of beskar made for Force sensitives”

“It does? But then why would…” It occurred to him that his dreams weren’t as severe when he slept with his buy’ce.

“Val ru’kar’taylir bal ru’ne’vaabir rejorhaa’ir ni'' They knew and did not tell me he murmured in disbelief. Why didn’t she tell him or make him a better beskar’gam? The stab of betrayal spread through his veins, his back aching in phantom pain. He wanted to throw something, anger bubbling up in him like lava, hot and dangerous. Kote placed a hand on his and the lava flowed into Kote leaving him empty

“It’s alright. I’m sure they had a reason” He said but the simmering outrage inside Kote remained. Grogu, the Empire wanted them for the same reason, maybe she was protecting him. The sting of lies and betrayal faded to a throb as he thought it over

“The Empire wanted Force sensitive children,” he said, his voice empty. It made sense now. Obi-Wan sucked in a sharp breath in pain.

“Are you alright?” Din asked and Obi-Wan nodded though he was still massaging his temple, his blue eyes found Din’s through the visor.

“How about I teach you how to shield? You might not feel as overwhelmed as much” he suggested and Din stared at him

“I can’t be a jetii, I’m a Mando’ad” He declared, his heart conflicted. The wrongness of becoming a jetii an enemy of Mandalore and his ingrained fear of his new and unknown powers conflicted with the instinct - that may or may not be the Force - telling him that it’s right, almost nudging towards that path. His thoughts flickered back to the confusing jetii’kad that Grogu gave him, the blade felt like a part of himself.

oOo

9 ABY - 7986

The Razor Crest was floating in empty space while Din tried to get his bearings and figure out potential allies after the mess on Nevarro. Rage boiled within him at the thought of that demagolka Gideon wanted his child. He sighed, lifted his helmet just enough to pinch the bridge of his nose when the cries of the child registered. They were their usual ‘I want attention’ cries but this time they were quite forceful and determined. Din set a course to a random backwater planet and jumped the Crest into hyperspace. The child was wailing now so Din climbed down the ladder to see what they wanted.

The child was sitting on a box, regarding him with intelligent eyes. Not a sign of their earlier distress

“What’s wrong adi’ka?” he asked as he stepped closer to examine them. Fierce determination radiated from their posture as their face adorably scrunched up in concentration

“Protect” Din sucked in a breath at the sudden thought that entered his mind, it was definitely not his. He sank down to the floor in shock and regarded the ad in wonder, his hands shook.

“That… that was you adi’ka?” he asked, his voice giddy with excitement. He finally had a way to communicate with the child to understand them, love swelled inside his chest. The child huffed in annoyance and concentrated some more

“PROTECT” They shouted in his head and Din’s mind almost ripped in half from the force of it. He took a steadying breath and held up a hand to stop the ad from doing it again but louder. A headache was beginning to form

“Alright, adi’ka. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to protect you” he said regret filling his voice. What kind of a Mandalorian can’t protect a child? The ad mewled in irritation cutting off Din’s destructive thoughts and pointed a shaky claw at him while glaring at him like it was his fault for not understanding. It was adorable and Din’s heart melted at the sight. Din furrowed his eyebrows in confusion once he puzzled out the message the child wanted to convey

“You want to protect me?” he asked in mild horror. The child smiled and nodded vigorously, ears flopping around like a dog as they began to shuffle around. Din’s heart ached in sorrow at their lost innocence

“Oh, cyar’ika” he breathed out, failing to keep his emotions out of his voice “I can protect myself. It’s not your responsibility,” he said as he gently reached out to lay a comforting hand on their shoulder. The ad’s big dark eyes gazed at him with confusion their ears down turning before scrunching up their nose in determination

“Promised” Din tightened his hand in worry and sighed

“Who?” The child gazed at him with sad yet knowing eyes as they pointed another shaky claw in his direction and Din recoiled in shock

“Me? I - I would never ask you to promise anything like that” he said incredulously he would never burden a child with such a promise. The ad’s eyes turned somber at that, their expression the most serious he’s ever seen and it disturbed him to his core. What has this child gone through?

“Too young” They declared their ears drooping with exhaustion and through the haze of confusion Din reached out to steady them. What did they mean he was too young? His mind was filled with more questions than answers from this strange conversation with the child. They finally pulled a cylindrical object out of the many folds of their robe and pressed it into Din’s hand

“Gift” they whispered weakly in his mind before collapsing in his arms. Din stared at the child, sleeping peacefully and then the object in his hand.

“Oh adi’ka what have you gotten yourself into?” he said voice laced with barely suppressed pain before leaning down and pressing his forehead to theirs

“Vor entye adi’ka” he murmured before tugging the snoring bundle into their hammock and shutting the door.

He studied the cylindrical object in his hand. It looked like a hilt of a weird sword, at the top four metal pieces were surrounding the inner part of the hilt like a crown. There was a band of shiny metal that appeared to be beskar curving around the middle of the hilt, two small buttons were nested on the side of the band. Below the dark leather grip at the bottom of the hilt was a cap painted vibrant orange. The leather was worn and fraying in some places and the beskar had some scorch marks on it.

He gripped the hilt and it slid into his hand perfectly, with a burning curiosity he thumbed one of the buttons. The sudden hum and light had him almost dropping the weapon. An orange blade materialized out of the hilt humming with glee and lighting up the interior of the hull with a soft orange glow. Din stared at the weapon with shock, he hadn’t seen anything like it in his life but strangely the weapon seemed to recognize him. It was singing to him Din realized, happiness pouring out of the weapon in waves, how he knew he had no clue. He gave it a slow experimental swing entranced by its joyful orange glow. It was strange the blade itself had no weight so his balance was off and he gave it another swing. The blade cut through the air fluidly humming with delight. Giddiness bubbled up inside him as he gave the weapon a good twirl. The blade hummed with the joy of long lost friends reuniting and Din laughed with the blade. Beeping broke Din out of his feedback loop of happiness barely loud enough over the humming of the blade. Din sighed, gifted the blade one last twirl and gave it a long longing look then thumbed the off switch. The blade died down leaving the room oddly dark and quiet. Emptiness he didn’t notice before registered for the first time in his life. He clipped the hilt to his belt and climbed up to the cockpit just as the Razor Crest lurched out of hyperspace.

oOo

22 BBY - 7955

Someone was talking through the haze that surrounded Din. His memory was clearing and he was in the medical bay of an unknown ship. He blinked in confusion

“Beroya?” The man at the end of the bed asked his brows drawn in concern. The ginger man placed a hand on his, Din jumped

“Did you have a vision?” He asked. His head cleared slowly; he was on a Republic ship, he was 44 in the body of his 12 year old self and he had the Force. Kote was at the end of his bed sat by his leg, Helix was standing behind Kenobi the jetii who just offered to train him. He sighed

“No, just a memory,” He thought back to the vivid memory he just remembered, he had a jetii’kad. Did he get one in the past? Did he give it to Gorgu? Why didn’t he keep it? He stared at his hands in confusion

“Beroya, teaching you how to shield doesn’t mean you have to become a Jedi,” Kenobi said reading his doubts, Helix hummed behind him. Din lifted his head and gazed at Obi-Wan

“But I have the Force?”

“There are many sentients who have the Force and are not Jedi”

“Oh,” he was quickly realizing that knew so little about all of the Force osik stuff. Right now, despite his instincts insistence otherwise, he did not want to abandon his Mandalorian heritage but he needed training to understand his powers better and to be able to protect himself when push comes to shove. He looked at Kenobi his helmet wobbling on his head

“I’ll accept your offer” Kenobi sighed in relief and Kote patted his leg, pride radiating off of him. Kenobi turned to Kote

“Cody make sure everything is set up” Kote nodded, gave Din a smile, and left the room Helix leaving with him

Kenobi gestured for him to stand and sit opposite him on the floor

“So, have you meditated before, young one?” Obi-Wan asked once Din had settled into a comfortable position. He shook his head

“Close your eyes and feel the Force around you. Take a deep breath through your nose and let it out slowly” Din followed Obi-Wan’s instructions calming his mind and letting the familiar yet unfamiliar feeling of the Force into him and wash over him. He gasped, he could feel Obi-Wan sitting across from him, his mind similarly calm but he was the brightest presence on the ship. He could also feel Helix shuffling around with some medical equipment next door and the thousands of different yet similar beings on the ship all glowing in his mind’s eye and moving through their duties like a well-oiled machine. He could pick out Kote’s light from among the rest, he was a warm, strong and steadfast presence, the one he would associate with a good leader or parent.

“Good, now imagine laying a wall between yourself and the rest,” Obi-Wan murmured from the outside, barely audible. Din slowly began building the wall in his mind, brick by brick reinforcing it with beskar along the way. Gradually the lights dimmed and their emotions that he’s been picking up quieted to a hum. His own emotions, now easier to separate, were clearer and easier to control from the absence of thousands of other emotions. He felt Obi-Wan pull away so he slowly climbed his way to consciousness. He blinked his eyes open, his chest lighter since he woke up in the past. He breathed out a sigh of relief. And his stomach rumbled. Obi-Wan who was already on his feet smiled good naturedly at Din and held out a hand, Din grabbed it and let him pull him to his feet.

“Vor’e” He thanked Obi-Wan

The door swished open and Helix walked with Kote right behind him carrying a big bag in his hand. Din tilted his head in question, putting a hand on his helmet to stop it from banging against his skull. Obi-Wan smiled at Kote.

“Oh good, you’ve got it” Kote grinned with excitement, his presence enveloping Din. He looked at the bag curiously as he sat back on the bed, legs swinging in anticipation. Kote hefted the bag onto the bed with a low grunt.

“We did the best we could,” Kote said as Din peered into the bag. His heart stopped. There was a whole set of beskar’gam made out of plastoid in the bag. He picked up the buy’ce cradling it in his hands in wonder tracing the edge of the T-visor with his finger. The design was like the armor Kote and his brothers wore but smaller, tailored to his size. He placed the buy’ce aside then lifted each piece out with care and wonder, each piece was snow white - Cin Vhetin - the color of a new beginning, it was fitting he mused silently. He laid them out on the bed in the traditional way he was taught as a child, admiring the full set.

“You could paint it if you want to,'' Helix suggested as he stood behind him. Din tilted his head in thought he never felt the need to paint his armor, then when he got the full beskar set and it didn’t feel right to paint it, the unpainted beskar showing his penance for almost becoming dar’buir. Now though he could imagine the swirling patterns of various designs on the white surface.

“I’ll think about it” he murmured then he hesitated for a moment before turning to Kote. “Uh… could you leave?” He asked and embarrassment coated his voice, Kote nodded in understanding and they quietly left the room. Once the door was shut behind them Din unclipped his red robe, folded it neatly and set it aside, and pulled on the black flight suit that came with the armor. Then he clipped each piece on with familiar ease of weaning armor his entire life and tightened the belts where he felt the plastoid slack. It fit surprisingly well to his new thin lanky frame. The plastoid was lighter and more flexible than his beskar of his previous beskar’gam and he’ll have to adjust to that. He gripped the helmet in his hands and stared at his new face with an odd sense of disappointment, something wasn’t quite right with it but he couldn’t figure out what. Still, it would be better than Kote’s too big bucket that wobbled precariously every time he moved his head. He lifted the bucket off his face and glanced around expecting the room to transform into an Imperial cell but it stayed mostly the same. Not wanting to chance another episode he placed his new buy’ce on his head. The slight hiss as it connected was a comfort he forgot he needed, he sighed as he finally felt safe in his own skin. He knocked on the door harshly to signal Kote and the others that he was done. Kote and Helix walked in and Din tilted his head in confusion

“Where’s Kenobi?” Helix shrugged

“He had to go up to the bridge since we’ll be rendezvousing with the 501st soon” he explained and Kote mock glared at his brother. Din held out Kote’s bucket and he grabbed it his hands shaking slightly

“Vor entye, Kote,” He said gratefully as tears prickled in the corner of his eyes. The warmth from Kote grew as it enveloped him like a hug. He beamed at him while Helix looked between them with a confused frown.

“You’re welcome Beroya” He clapped him on the shoulder still grinning

“How about we grab some food,” he said as he dragged him out of the room he’s been in the past few days. Din’s heart sped up.

“I can leave?” he asked with confusion. He was under the impression that he was a prisoner even if he was a nicely treated one. Helix who was following behind them sucked in a breath

“Of course you can,” he said with some incredulity. Din shrugged half heartedly

“I thought since I attacked your men that I would be a prisoner” He had to keep a tight hold on his new and fragile shields so as to not get swept away by the violent flood of Kote’s and Helix’s emotions.

“Well, at first you were” Kote admitted scratching the back of his neck and Helix shot him a look

“Oh” Din sighed, Kote held up a dramatic hand

“But! You were hallucinating and you apologized and you haven’t given us reason to treat you a prisoner since” Kote explained hastily and warmth spread across Din, he hummed and examined the hallway to distract himself from the strange emotion. The hallways, while similar to an Imperial ship at a first glance, had enough of a different feel to them that Din could differentiate the two. Troopers were walking about hurrying to their destination, some gave Kote a salute and smile, while others did a double take at the sight of Din. Their stares did not affect him since he was used to them when he had the full beskar beskar’gam. There were a few who huddled together and whispered something to the others, no doubt the gossip train had started already. Din sighed, the gossip amongst the Covert was bad since most of them never left the sewers of Nevarro but it may reach a new level of horrible since he was the center of the latest gossip.

They arrived at the mess hall quicker than he expected. Clones were in large groups around the tables, their chatter and the clatter of utensils echoed throughout the entire room. The tables were long white and organized into neat rows though some of the benches were askew and the shouts of rowdy bunch cut through the background noise. Din’s mind tried to puzzle out a way to escape eating but Kote grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the cue, once he realized Din was lingering in the doorway. Din sighed. He stared at the small selection of food, mostly ration bars and some instant meals that were even less appetizing.

“Don’t tell me you’re just as bad at eating regularly as the General,” Helix joked from next to him. Din did eat less than he should. The fact that he couldn’t remove his helmet in most establishments and that he was reluctant to spend more than the bare minimum on food since most of the money went to the Covert and the foundlings - all of that meant that he skipped a few meals here or there. Helix raised an eyebrow at him, a mean scowl on his face at Din’s silence.

“Well, I-” he began to explain himself when Helix held up a hand

“The Force and meditation are not adequate replacements for food and sleep damn it!” Helix ranted as stacked 5 ration bars and some goop onto the tray, Kote snickered

“General Kenobi would argue,” he said with a smile

“The General can kiss my shebs” Helix grumbled with some ire and Din blushed then he remembered Helix’s earlier words

“The Force can be used that way?” he asked in wonder, wishing he knew a better way to stay awake at the countless long sleepless nights he had while hunting. Helix whirled around pointing a finger in his face with a glare, scowl still present

“Forget I said anything” He declared dramatically with a long sigh. Kote was snickering in the background while Helix kept grumbling to himself. Din followed after them knowing that he won’t lose them since he could pick out Kote’s warm presence in the crowd but it felt better to keep them in sight

“I only ate enough to sustain myself because the Covert needed the rest of the credits,” He said the urge to explain himself to Kote and Helix was strong. They reached a relatively empty table and Helix pushed the tray of food towards him as soon as they sat down. He stared at the food with trepidation and Helix sighed

“There is no shortage of food here Beroya” Helix gestured to the food, chewing on a ration bar himself “So eat” Din sighed

“I can’t” He bit out after a moment of hesitation. Helix and Kote exchanged a concerned look and he got the distinct impression of Kote wanting to hug him

“Why not?” Kote asked. Din looked down shamefully at his hands, he already broke the Creed several times first to save Grogu but that was fine since foundlings came above all else. But now so many people had seen him, not just without his buy’ce but without his beskar’gam so can he even be called a Mando’ad? Who was he if not a Mandalorian? His thoughts circled around that question so he clung to the traditions that would reject him in a vain attempt to define himself

“I can’t remove the helmet,” He said, eyes still locked on his hands. He felt the spike of concern, irritation, and shock from Kote

“Who told you that?” his voice was low and angry though not directed at him still he flinched slightly

“No one. This is the Way” he echoed, the once comforting words felt wrong and hollow coming from his mouth.

“The Way?” Helix asked his voice returning to the gentle prod he used earlier when he thought he was dreaming

“The Way of the Mandalore. I can’t remove my helmet in front of any living being or I become dar’manda”

“But you didn’t have a helmet before Cody gave you his” Helix’s voice was gentle and he could feel Kote stewing next to him

“Exactly, I already broke the Creed” He couldn’t say it out loud that would make it real and he was already hollow and directionless. The Covert would certainly not accept him back now if he could even find them

“That’s bantha shit!” Kote exploded and Din’s head snapped up to him

“What?” He whispered and his voice shook in bewilderment

“You just didn’t have a helmet when you got here! What if someone removed your helmet if you got captured? What are you supposed to do then?” Kote ranted “Besides, having a helmet does not make you Mandalorian. Then the vode wouldn’t be Mando’ade” His face was red from anger, Helix nodded along a similar expression of outrage on his face and Din stared at them in shock. Anger not directed at him radiated off of the both of them. Din’s heart swelled with an unknown emotion as he looked back at his food

“I…” he was at a loss for words as Kote deflated

“I’m still not comfortable removing the helmet,” he declared after a moment of silence. His mind whirling with shock. Both of them nodded in understanding

“We understand Beroya” Helix said

“But if you ever feel comfortable enough know that we won’t judge you” Kote finished. His heart squeezed in gratitude and warmth filled him, Din ducked his head.

Kote and Helix returned to their bland meal and Din glanced around the noisy mess hall. Troopers were talking boisterously, some slapping each other on the shoulder or arm as a show of comredradie. He spotted a few not so subtly ogling him but he ignored them. They felt happy and unrestrained. So when the back of his neck prickled with the usual sense of danger Din was taken aback and whirled around a second too late. The punch landed squarely on his bucket, rattling his head for a moment. The trooper had no paint on their armor and sported a mean scowl on his face, Kote sprang up from his seat growling at the trooper

“Slick, what the hell do you think you are doing?” Slick ignored his commanding officer and only sneered at the stunned Din anger rolling off of him in waves.

“You attack our men and then you have the audacity to wear our armor!” He said with disgust. The easy going chatter around them died down to a hushed whisper as everyone stared at them. Kote walked up to Slick with a furious expression and his voice was barely restrained, hard with the promise of violence

“Stand down Sergeant” He ordered. The order fell on deaf ears as Slick glared at Kote with no fear besides the tide of righteous anger

“No sir” he ground out “Don’t you see that he’s just another nat-born pretending to like us, to be one of us” He gestured to the rest of the clones

“Ni ceta” Din apologized as he stood, wobbling slightly on his legs. Slick sneered

“Oh, now he speaks our language too.” His voice was heavy with sarcasm “What’s next? You gonna paint your armor like us too? Is stealing our language and freedom not enough for you?” Slick accused loudly venom filling his voice and being

“Stand down Sargeant! That’s an order!” Kote bellowed his voice echoing throughout the silent mess hall. Din straightened feeling the anger rise in him at the unwarranted accusations

“I am a Mando’ad and I do not steal anyone’s freedom” He declared his voice steady and sure, his earlier doubts gone for the moment.

“Yeah, right” Slick huffed and raised his hand for another punch. Kote had enough and with a swift move restrained Slick bending his arm around his back painfully. He gestured for two clones their armor painted orange and handed the seething Slick over to them

“Maybe a few hours in the brig will teach you a lesson” He nodded to the two clones who dragged Slick away who was still glowering at Din with hatred.

“Alright boy fun’s over” Kote declared to the spectators and the rest of the troopers slowly returned to their meals though the chatter was more subdued than before

Kote sank back into his seat with a tired sigh and Din followed soon after. His mind still reeling at the pure hatred Slick directed his way like he was the cause of all of his problems. But before he could ask Kote why Slick hated him so much, two clones sat at their table, one next to Kote and one next to Din. Kote sighed in irritation and glared at the two clones while Helix snickered

“Waxer, Boil, what are you doing here?” Kote asked, his voice and posture tired with all the bantha shit that happened since Din left his room. Waxer was looking at him wearily from across the table and Din tilted his head in question. Boil, appearing to not have the same hesitation looped an arm around Din’s shoulder and grinned at him. Both Din and Waxer tensed.

“So you’re the verdi’ka who beat up Waxer,” he said with a good humored smile, Din tensed his shoulders. Kote gave a long suffering sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, and Din opened his mouth to apologize again

“If you’re here to cause trouble...” Kote began

“Oh, we’re not assholes like Slick” Waxer chuckled relaxing slightly, Boil grinned and nudged Din

“Waxer was just too scared to ask the verd’ika for a rematch,” Boil said with a sly smile. Waxer rose and hit Boil across the table his face red with embarrassment

“I’m not!” he squeaked out, Kote tried to wrangle the two brothers to calm down and Helix was outright cackling now while Din stared at the chaotic scene in confusion.

“Why?” he blurted out and the chaos around the table as they stared at him. Waxer seeming to overcome his fear looked at him

“Because you’re good and it’s nice to spar with someone new,” He said earnestly

“Hear, hear” Boil chanted as he lifted his drink. Din looked at them both finding his instincts or the Force were telling him that they weren’t lying so Din agreed with a nod

“Sweet, sparring room 5 after the mission?” Waxer said vibrating in his seat with excitement

“Calm down vod’ika” Helix chastised and Din shrugged his heart soaring at the thought of a good spar since all his recent fights had been life or death situations, it’ll be nice to let out some steam.

“Sure” he agreed with a hidden smile. Waxer cheered, Boil rolled his eyes in fondness and then they soon left after that whispering amongst themselves in excitement. Kote turned to Helix with a raised eyebrow

“You were batchmates with them right?” Helix grinned mischief entering his eyes

“Yeah Waxer and Boil were always a chaotic duo”

“Batchmates?” Din asked curiously both of them tensed and stilled, fear spiking in them for a second but then it was replaced by humor again

“Batchmates grew up together, they were usually decanted in the same batch of 5” Helix explained, Kote was still tense though

“Like brothers,” Din said

“All the clones are vode but yes in a way batchmates are closer” There was a smile in Helix’s voice and Kote seemed to shrink in on himself a haunted look crossing his eyes but before Din could ask if he was alright his comm beeped with a message. Kote grinned and stood all, his fear disappearing instantly, Din tilted his head curiously

“Come on Rex’ika will be here soon,” He said with mirth, Helix stood and Din followed. Helix tossed him a ration bar with a scowl, Din fumbled to catch it

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you haven’t eaten today” he grumbled and Din gulped. Instead of answering he redirected the conversation away from himself

“Rex’ika?” he asked as he followed Kote since he wasn’t told to go back to the medical room

“My vod’ika” Kote grinned “He’d love to meet you”

“Really?”

“The 501st and General Skywalker are a rowdy bunch so I’m sure you’ll fit right in,” Helix said with a grin. Din paused, stunned the jetii who took Grogu away was younger than him so he shouldn’t be here unless he was near human and aged slower. Din snapped out of his musings when he felt the presence of Kote and Helix move away, he jogged to catch up with them.

“General Skywalker?” He asked a bit winded, Helix chuckled at that

“He is one of the best Generals in the GAR besides Kenobi” he added at Kote’s mock glare

“His plans may seem reckless but he has the fewest losses in the entire army. Rex is certainly not bored under him” Kote said with a proud smile

“At least he doesn’t lose his lightsaber every other battle” Helix teased, Kote sighed in exasperation

“Don’t remind me” he grumbled, Din watched in fascination. Helix left for the medbay about halfway to the hangar. They arrived at the hangar soon after that. It was busy, the engines of the landing LAATs and shuttles deafening, hundreds of troopers all decked out in blue armor were milling about the place, chattering amongst each other and greeting the troopers with orange paint enthusiastically. Kenobi was in the middle of the action directing the troopers and the landing crafts. But before they could reach him a clone with a blue pauldron and jaig eyes painted on his helmet approached them. Kote grinned

“Rex’ika” he exclaimed and enveloped the clone in a hug, relief flowing through him, the blue clone returned the hug just as enthusiastically. Once they finished greeting each other Rex glanced behind Kote where Din was standing suspicion in his frame

“Cody who’s this?” He gestured to Din, Kote grinned

“This is Beroya. We picked him up on Aq-Vetina” Kote introduced him proudly and Rex did a double take

“Beroya? I thought you took a shiny under your wing, not a cadet” Rex said his voice filled with incredulity, and Din bristled

“He’s nat-born Rex’ika,” Cody said with a glare to challenge Rex’s protest. Alas Rex was too oblivious to notice

“Why is he here and why is he wearing our armor?” There was no disgust or contempt in his voice instead he radiated confusion as he stared at Din, Kote shrugged

“Because he needed one and General Kenobi wanted him here” Din stared at Kote with a raised eyebrow as he sensed Kenobi approaching with a man behind him. The man was so bright, like a supernova it took him a second of squinting under the helmet’s sensors to really make out his features. He was tall and imposing, growing messy brown hair and wearing black battle armor and robes.

Din staggered back as the image of the man was replayed in his head. Suddenly he wasn’t in the hangar. He was in a large temple, tall spires casting long shadows in the dark night. Everything was dark and muddy even the air was suffocating, heavy with death and tragedy. Terror sliced through him as the screams of the ade tore through the peaceful setting. Blue flashed across the dark sky before another life joined the thousands screaming in agony. The dark robed demon cut through the children with ease, his golden eyes flashing with hatred and fury.

The temple morphed around him with sickening ripples. He was clutching something important to his chest running as fast as he could. Run away. Protect. Hide. He kept chanting. The shadows around him grew, eating up the low light of the moon leaving behind nothing but cold dead darkness. Out of the darkness, the demon materialized, golden eyes dead to the world yet filled with bottomless hatred. Blue flashed across the hall and orange rose just barely to meet it. The colors clashed, their usual magnificent harmony tainted just out of tune. Blue left and with vicious force came down on the weakening orange again and again like a rabid dog. Another violent clash, the orange now sluggish waning in the darkness that surrounded them. Still, it rose to meet every single violent strike with determination. Then the blue cut through the orange with a brutal strike. It fell into two on the ground. The orange light died out with last pathetic sparks. The darkness eating it alive

Din cried out in terror.

#fanfic #star wars #din djarin #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #time travel #the mandalorian #found family #baby yoda #chapter 2 #mandoa #visions #grogu #writing

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wizardofrozz · 3 years

Text

The Perfect Pair

Warnings: swearing, angst, mention of violence (please let me know if I miss something!)

Pairing: Loki x OFC

A/N: There’s a good chance I’ll post the next chapter too today 😊 *Character’s thoughts are in italics*

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Chapter 2: Mutual Goals

(Violet POV)

I woke with a start, panting as I looked around the room. I sighed when I remembered I snagged a room in Knowhere to sleep for the night after my encounter with that pain in the ass God. I tried to shake away the dream of him as I sat up in bed, but his irritatingly handsome face still lingered in my head. I pulled the blankets off my legs to slid out of bed, grabbing a robe and wandering over to the bathroom, rubbing sleep from my eyes. I walked into the bathroom, realizing there was another door on the opposite side. Hm must be a shared bathroom. I shrugged, hoping the other person would stay out for 5 minutes, and as if jinxing myself, the other door opened. “Oh, you’re fucking kidding me!” I yelled, my head falling back. His eyes opened wider, any trace of sleep gone now, as the reality of the situation hit him. “What are you doing here?” his eyes raking down my body. I crossed my arms, hiding the fact that I didn’t have a bra on under the robe I found. Loki shifted uncomfortably across the bathroom, shaking his legs slightly. “I tried to get some sleep; what are you doing here?” I spat back at him. “The same thing,” he raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing in Knowhere?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Running an errand so I can move onto the next stage of my plan,” Loki said in a very nonchalant tone, leaning against the sink. “Oh, and what would that be,” I said as I climbed to sit on the sink. I watched Loki’s eyes travel up my legs before he quickly locked eyes with me again. “Rule Earth,” he smirked, his eyes sparkling. “I’m coming,” I clapped my hands together, climbing off the sink. “Did I miss the invitation you think I offered?” Loki asked, irritated. “Oh no, but it lines up with my plans. I need a way there, so I’ll pledge to help with whatever gets me there,” I smiled over my shoulder. “When are you leaving?” I yelled from my room, sliding my leather suit up to my waist and dropping the robe to the floor. “I didn’t agree-” Loki broke off. I turned around, still naked from the waist up, to find him standing in my doorway; his eyes widened as they traveled to my bare chest. “Change your mind?” I snickered. “Uh…I,” Loki stuttered. I broke his trance by pulling my sports bra over my head; his eyes snapped up to mine, watching me. “Come on; maybe I’ll even sleep with you,” I winked, but his expression hardened. “Sex won’t always get you want, whore,” he spat at me. “That stings,” I overplayed the hurt before my face fell into a bored expression. “I don’t use sex for anything; I’m powerful enough that I don’t need to. I thought maybe if I offered a little reward for bringing me along, you might change your mind,” I smirked. “And why would you think that’s the reward I’d want,” he narrowed his eyes, anger radiating off him. “Your boner gives you away.” I nodded my head towards the bulge in his pants before pulling up the rest of my jump suit. Loki’s eyes widen, and his mouth fell open as he used both hands to cover himself, a bright blush creeping over his cheeks. “Fine, I will not hesitate to kill you if you get in my way,” Loki said flatly. “Gods, will you just decide. Do you want to kill me or fuck me? I can’t tell anymore,” I threw my arms up, turning my back to him. “Both,” he finally said, walking back into the bathroom towards his room. /// 6 months later I followed the green cape down a damp cave, kicking rocks out of my way as I went. “Are we almost there?” I groaned. “Shut up,” Loki said over his shoulder, irritation lacing his voice. “Bitch,” I spit out, but he ignored me. All of these errands were wearing my patience thin; Loki finally got the scepter he was pinning after, but we still haven’t made our way to New York yet. Nevertheless, the past six months haven’t been that bad; Loki sometimes can be warm and let it slip that he’s not entirely cold-hearted. *** I ordered Loki and me a drink from the bar, hoping to loosen him up. “What is this?” he sniffed the drink, raising an eyebrow at me. “Asgardian liquor, somehow they had it,” I smiled, taking a sip. “Hm, the black market probably,” Loki took a sip of his drink and sighed. After at least three drinks, Loki and I started to feel the effects of the alcohol. “What’s your favorite animal?” I giggled. “Snakes,” Loki raised an eyebrow before snickering a little. “Reminds me of a time I played a prank on Thor. I turned myself into a snake because he loves them too, he picked me up, and I turned back into myself and stabbed him,” Loki laughed, honestly laughed. I was taken back by how much I enjoyed hearing it and how my chest tightened when he smiled. I laughed at the story Loki told me, just imagining Loki as a kid stabbing his brother. “I miss my snake,” I finally said. “She was beautiful,” I sighed. “What happened to her,” Loki cocked his head to the side. “My father killed her,” my nostrils flared at the memory. “Should’ve killed him instead,” Loki muttered, and I snorted. Loki kept telling me stories as we drank, opening up more and more as the alcohol flowed; I was surprised at how much we had in common and how easy it was to talk with him. We finally wrapped up the night, realizing I had way too much to drink; I stumbled a little as we made our way towards the rooms we rented. “You okay?” Loki’s brows pulled together, what seemed like concern on his face. “A little too drunk,” I giggled, stumbling again. Loki instinctively reached out to grab me; after a few seconds he huffed, but picked me up, bridal style, and carried me the rest of the way. I laid my head on his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat; he started humming quietly as he walked. I listened to the lullaby I remembered from my childhood and drifted off to sleep. *** I momentarily smiled at the memory, but it lasted only a second when the irritated around this trek through the dark cave came back; I grumbled to myself, willing this fucking trip to end. I happened to notice a small pool not far in front of us; as we got closer, Loki stopped walking, holding his arm out, assuming I wasn’t paying attention. He was right; his arm slammed into my chest, stopping me before I walked into the pool. “Will you ever learn?” Loki tried to hide his smirk. “Unlikely,” I shrugged; he rolled his eyes but left it at that. Loki’s eyes fell shut as he concentrated on the pool in front of him; the small pool took on a slight green tint before Loki pulled his magic away. “Let’s go,” Loki said, turning around. “Where?” I looked back and forth between Loki and the pool. “The room,” he looked over his shoulder, confused. “What the fuck did we trek up here for! To waste our fucking time!” I yelled at him. Before I could react, Loki had me slammed up against the wall, his hand around my throat, his face inches from mine; I couldn’t help but squeeze my legs together when warmth started to grow between them. “Watch your tongue, pet,” Loki barked at me. “Make me,” I growled before spitting in his face. “Oh darling, don’t tempt me.” A wicked look crossed his face as he wiped my spit off his cheek. For a split second, I thought I had finally gone too far, and he was going to kill me, so I figured I might as well make it worthwhile. “At this point, I’d rather you kill me. Has to better than wandering around like an idiot because you can’t trust me enough to tell me anything!” I yelled in his face. “Hm, I don’t think I will. I think the torture of the situation is much better,” Loki’s smile was downright terrifying, but I was too angry with him to care. “Gods, I fucking hate you,” I spat at him. I tried to kick him in the nuts, but he closed his legs, only he wasn’t fast enough; my shin still hit them enough to get a reaction from him. His expression took on a different look that I couldn’t place; pain but something else too. “You’ll be very sorry for that little one,” Loki’s voice was husky, rough. “Aw, do you need me to rub them?” I mocked him. I reached down without him noticing and grabbed his balls hard enough that he sucked in a breath, and I saw discomfort in the lines of his face. I was sure he was going to kill me now, but his expression changed when I loosened the grip on him, my hand still hovering close; I watched his pupils grow, pushing out the bright green color of his eyes. Was his face even closer than before? “Loki?” I let out a strangled groan. He snapped out of his trance, blinking a few times before letting go of my throat, letting me fall to the floor; he stepped away from me and walked towards the way we came. “Don’t worry; I’m fine down here. I’ll get up myself,” I mumbled. “Here,” he rolled his eyes but reached out to help me up. He didn’t step back when he helped me to my feet, so I was chest to chest with him when I stood up. I looked up, locking eyes with him, realizing how close our lips were. “Vi?” Loki whispered the nickname he used for me. “Grow a pair and kiss me, for fucks sake,” I whispered harshly. My wish was his command; his lips crashed into mine, hard and urgent. My hand was still engulfed in his between us, holding me close; his free hand moved to the back of my neck, clamping down hard, holding me there. Our mouths moved together, our tongues dancing; I couldn’t hold back the moan that left my mouth. Loki responded with a slightly louder moan into my mouth. His mouth moving against mine sparked a strange feeling throughout my body; my skin felt too warm, too tight but at the same time perfect. Loki ripped his hand away from mine before pushing me back into the wall, his body holding me against the rocks, a bulge growing in his pants; I ran my hands up his chest, wishing he were wearing less. His hand moved from the back of my neck back around to my throat again, holding me against the wall; I bit his lip as I pulled away from his intoxicating kiss. “Fuck,” Loki groaned, a shiver running through him. “Loki,” I whispered, waiting for him to look at me. “We should go,” he said, letting me go again, walking away. “What the fuck?” I threw my hands up but begrudgingly followed. “Seriously, Loki, what the fuck was that!” I pointed back at the spot where we were just standing, but he ignored me. “Loki!” I yelled this time. “Why aren’t you scared of me!” Loki turned abruptly, screaming in my face. I could tell he was hoping I cringed, but I stood in front of him with a blank expression. “Why do you care about me?” I shot back, catching him off guard. He physically stumbled back at my words, not expecting me to say that. “I don’t know why I’m not scared of you. Maybe I welcome death. Kill me; it won’t make a difference. Or I just have no fear,” I kept my eyes locked on him the whole time. “I don’t care for you,” he finally said, and I laughed at him. “Could’ve fooled me,” I continued laughing, walking past him, back towards the entrance to the cave. “What does that mean!” he yelled as he tried to catch up. “Forget it, Loki,” I waved him off, continuing to walk out of the cave, listening to his footsteps behind me.

_____________________________________________________________

Series Masterlist | Chapter 3

Taglist:

@criminalyetminimal @kendallthesimp @marvelfansworld

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imaginethathaikyuu · 5 years

Text

kinktober - day 23

lev haiba - blow job

kinktober faq prompt list

*NSFW warning featuring lev getting his first blow job* fem reader

When you started dating Lev, you were caught off guard when you learned how… inexperienced he is.

And to say he’s ‘lacking experience’ was an understatement - he had none. In fact, he hadn’t even had his first kiss at 20 years old.

Of course there was nothing wrong with that - but to you, it was shocking. The man had a strikingly attractive appearance - his incredible height and piercing eyes drew you to him immediately. You were sure his kind personality and soft heart should have made him irresistible to anyone looking for a boyfriend - you assumed he wouldn’t have had a hard time dating.

Evidently, Lev had never been in the market for a partner until college - until he met you. He had only just become mature enough to balance volleyball and a relationship, after all.

“I was busy in high school,” he told you. “Playing volleyball was more important.”

And so, you were his first relationship. You had been checking off his list of firsts since you made it official.

First kiss. Your noses bumped together a bit too much, and he definitely wasn’t confident in his movements - but neither of you would ever forget it. It was gentle and soft; his lack of confidence was made up in how sweet he was.

Making out for the first time was a bit different, though. Lev was lost - he had no idea how he was meant to move, and he was completely unfamiliar to the downright bizarre feeling of having someone’s tongue in his mouth. You had to guide him through it - he wouldn’t even touch you on his own, you had to bring his hands to your body yourself.

And touching each other for the first time was equally amazing as it was complicated.

Lev was nervous, you could tell from his clammy hands and stuttering words. “Are… are you sure you want to do this with me?” he asked right before pulling your shirt off. You nodded and smiled and let him take his time.

And the experience mattered to him. Lev looked at your body as if he’d never seen anything like it - because he hadn’t, at least in person . You could see the disbelief and curiosity swimming in those emerald green eyes of his, and despite how badly you wanted things to go faster, you were grateful it moved so slow. Because if they hadn’t, you wouldn’t have gotten to see the beautiful look on his face as he looked at you.

It was obvious Lev needed the steady pace, and neither of you had a reason to take things fast. And you made sure to discuss how you were both feeling - recently, Lev had taken interest in going further.

You were explicit when telling him the things you wanted to do to him, typically through dirty texts - which he had become very eager to receive. You had a discussion a few nights ago that still makes you heat up when thinking of it - and tonight you were going to make those texts a reality.

He had already confidently taken off your shirt and was now fumbling with your bra strap, trying his hardest to remove it himself, while you straddled him.

“I can do it,” he giggled, sitting upright. “I know I can.”

“You don’t need to take my bra off for what we’re going to do tonight, babe,” you told him.

“What do you mean?” he replied with a pout. “Taking your bra off is what I’m doing tonight.”

His poor memory was going to be the death of you. You sighed and unhooked your bra yourself.

“I was gonna do it,” he mumbled, pulling the garment off of your chest.

“It doesn’t matter,” you laughed. He started kissing your collarbone as soon as he discarded your bra, distracting you from the task at hand. “Lev?”

“Hm?”

“You remember what we talked about a few nights ago, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Lev.”

You pulled his face away from your chest - he was way too distracted by your breasts.

“Do you remember what I said I want to do with you, a few nights ago?”

He was still looking down at your chest, trying to remember what exactly you could be referencing. He was drawing blanks.

“We talked about going further.”

“Oh,” he said, still not quite remembering - and then it clicked. “...Oh.” His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “You… you want to… you want use your mouth… on me?”

You nodded.

“Right now?”

“If you're okay with that.”

“You really want to do that?”

“Yeah. I do.” Your forehead fell against his. “I want you in my mouth, Lev.”

The moan he let out in response was completely uncontrollable and way too loud for his liking. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you said, topping your answer off with a kiss on his lips. “Can I, babe?”

“Y-Yeah, yes, please,” he replied. “Please, Y/N.”

With a giggle you pushed him to lay down; he felt anxiety settling in his stomach as your face neared his crotch. He had never gone this far with anybody - his dick had never been in someone’s mouth, and he wasn’t sure if he was prepared for it. He had no idea what to do - so he asked you, as you were unbuttoning his jeans, “W-What should I do, Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Like… with my hands,” he added. He was so lost in his thoughts that when he felt you pressing your face against the tent in his underwear, he jumped and gasped as if the touch had scared him.

“Just put them wherever you’re comfortable, baby,” you shrugged.

He took a deep breath. “Can I… hold your hand?”

Instead of giving an answer, you grabbed his hands in your own. He held on tight as you continued to press your nose against the hardness his underwear was covering.

“Don’t tease, alright?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“That’s not what your texts said…” he grumbled, making you laugh.

“Can I take these off now, babe?”

You pulled his underwear off as soon as he nodded, and his first instinct was to hide himself from you, but he had no free hands to do so.

“I’m gonna touch you, okay?”

He gasped as your hand wrapped around his shaft; you watched his cock growing in size as he quickly got harder, stiffening in your hand when you gave him a squeeze.

Lev was staring up at the ceiling waiting for you to do whatever you wanted to do - he was trying to anticipate the way this would feel, but he was sure there was no way to prepare himself for this. What if he came the moment your lips touched him? What if he ended up hurting you somehow?

And the moment he felt your lips wrap around him, your tongue swirling against his sensitive head, he knew he wasn’t prepared. He didn’t know how the hell he didn’t cum on the spot - thank god - but his hips jerked up towards your mouth almost violently.

He felt a fraction of his length go deep into your mouth - deep enough to make you gag - and despite his moaning, he felt is heart drop.

“I-I’m sorry!” he said frantically with a hand on your face, pulling you off of him. “I’m so sorry - I didn’t mean to hurt you, Y/N!”

“Lev,” you started, “baby, it’s okay. Did that feel good?”

“Y-Yeah, but -”

“Then it was good,” you told him. “I want you to do that again, babe.”

“Are you sure - ah, Y/N!”

You took him into your mouth without warning, taking him as deep as you could - he had no clue what you were doing with your tongue but it felt worlds better than his own hand. His moans were soft as he looked down at you with heavy eyes, wanting to praise you but not knowing how.

He didn’t understand why but he needed to move his hips - he desperately needed to thrust into your mouth and despite being so afraid of hurting you, he couldn’t stop himself.

Somehow, you took all of him. And his eyes shot open when you did, he couldn’t breathe - it felt so good he felt like you had knocked the wind out of him.

“Y/N!” he shamelessly moaned - he’d only moaned your name like this while he was alone, reading your naughty text messages with his cock in his own hand. “Ah, Y/N, Y/N!”

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and something in him snapped. The sight of you taking his cock down your throat should not be so fucking hot, it didn’t feel fair - and if you didn’t pull off of him now, he’d shoot his entire load right into your mouth.

“Y/N, you - you have to stop, I’m gonna cum,” he told you, but you made no moves to listen to him, and he panicked. “I can’t hold it back, Y/N, I… I’m gonna cum in your mouth if you don’t stop.”

Unwilling to pull away, you nodded in response to his words - you wanted him to cum in your mouth.

And he did - his grip on your hand tightened as he threw his head back as he came hard for you, filling your mouth, embarrassed as ever. His cheeks were bright red and his moans were loud, and you didn’t stop sucking him until you knew he was finished.

He was sure you’d be grossed out, push him away, maybe even ask him to leave. He was terrified as he breathlessly looked down at you, only to find you looking up at him, holding your mouth open with his cum all over your tongue.

And his embarrassment washed away at the erotic sight - he needed you to swallow it all.

“S-Swallow it,” he said quietly. You nodded and swallowed - it didn’t have much of a taste, so you had no issue doing so - and then showed him your empty mouth. He swore he could cum again at that sight alone.

“Y/N,” he said softly, looking down at you with a silly grin.

“Lev.”

You crawled up his body and he pulled your lips down to his as soon as you were in reach, kissing you over and over and over.

“That was incredible,” he breathed, and you agreed. “Can we do that again some time?”

“We’ll do so much more than that, babe.”

Lev really liked the sound of that - he couldn’t wait to do everything with you.

tune in tomorrow for kinktober day 24: sleepy sex

#kinktober 2019 #kinktober #lev haiba #lev haiba x reader #lev x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu one shot #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #not family friendly

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forever-rogue · 4 years

Text

Step into the Daylight - Part 2

Summary: While fighting for your own survival, you somehow ended up in the care of one stoic Mandalorian…and his adopted child. (that’s it for now! don’t want to give away too much!)

A/N: Thank you guys so much for the all love and support on part one of this series, it was seriously overwhelming and amazing, and I hope you continue to enjoy this little series. Taglists are open, and as always feedback is welcome! xx

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin x Reader)

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: mentions of past violence

SERIES MASTERLIST

MANDALORIAN MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next several days were spent in a repetitive haze of sleeping, showering, and eating. Your body was sore, beyond stiff and bruised, and it was an almost impossible task to do much of anything, as any movement had your body screaming in silent pain. At this point weren’t sure if it was day or night, as the lights were dimmed so you could rest; the only constant was the Mandalorian coming back at seemingly set intervals to check up on you.

He was mostly silent, as were you, unsure of what to even say to him. He moved about you silently when he changed the dressings on your wounds, making sure everything was healing properly. When it was time to eat, he usually only said a word or two, not waiting for you to respond, silently walking back to the ship’s kitchen while you trailed behind him. He always made the same thing, watching while you and the Child ate, never eating himself, always making sure you had plenty.

The Child was a mystery in and of himself; you’d never met anything, or anyone rather, like him before, but for some odd reason you couldn’t explain you felt an odd sort of bond with him, like there was an unseen connection keeping the two of you together. He often toddled into the small room you were occupying, looking at you with his wide, innocent eyes until you picked him up and let him snuggle with you. Sometimes, if you were feeling up to it, you’d quietly talk to him, almost as if you were having a conversation, even if all he provided in response were small coos and little laughs. He had become your friend, if you could call it that, and was a welcome presence in your life. You hadn’t experienced as much kindness from him, or even the stoic Mandalorian who had rescued you, in a long time. You weren’t sure how long it would last, but for now it was enough. Being alive and healing was enough.

A soft knock, a softer one than you had expected came at the doorway of your small makeshift bedroom, rousing you from the light slumber you were in. Sitting up and wiping the little bits of drool of your face you turned and found the Mandalorian watching you intently. At least you figured he was, considering you hadn’t seen his face and were still learning to read him.

“I’m going to the market to get supplies,” he wasn’t one for unnecessary words, deciding to get to the point quickly rather than waste time on frivolous talk. As he watched you nod, he felt that familiar pang in his chest again. It had become more frequent lately, usually much stronger when he was in your presence but still unexplained. There were no words, at least not yet, for him to describe it properly, so he mainly tried to suppress it for now, “can you please keep the Child with you?”

“Of course,” you answered quietly, giving him a nod as the little one waddled past him as fast as he could, holding his little arms open to you. You smiled at him and picked him up, giving him a big hug, and he instantaneously snuggled into your arms.

“Do you require anything?” he asked and had a moment of pause as you looked at him. It was a surprising one for you, considering no one had offered to do anything of the sort for you, if nothing else, you were usually the errand girl, left to do everyone’s bidding.

“No, thank you for asking,” you said softly and he gave you a brisk nod before turning to head out. You opened your mouth to ask him something, wanting to keep there and talking, welcoming the company from your fellow human inhabitant. But no sounds came out and instead you watched him go silently, figuring it was for the best.

The Child looked between you and the now empty door, and you just shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know either, little buddy. He’s kind though...I mean he did spare me after all, he could have easily turned me in and taken the reward. I guess he saved us both, didn’t he?”

The small Child seemed to nod in response, almost as if he understood what you were saying. You laid back down, resting on your back as you let the little creature relax next to you; for whatever reason you always seemed to sleep easier when he was by your side, almost as if he had some kind of force or power over what you were seeing in your dream state.

»»————-　♡　————-««

A few more days had passed in relatively the same fashion, but after almost a week and a half of bed rest, you were growing restless. You were used to moving from place to place, being kept on your toes as you tried to survive. You were always on the move, always vigilant even in your sleep. Remaining in one spot, one small confined space for this long was almost unheard of and it was started to get to get to you.

One morning, at least what you assumed was morning, you found the Mandalorian in your doorway again, telling you that he had some business to take care of, which you instantly knew meant a bounty or something in the same vain. He had the same simple request as last time, asking if you could watch the little one, and you acquiesced again.

But this time, after he had been gone for several hours and you hadn’t seen or heard from him, you grew curious. You hadn’t seen much of the ship, besides the bedroom, bathroom, and small kitchen, which left you wondering what else there was.

Finally feeling mostly back to your old self, you changed into a pair of clean and pants and a tunic, both much too large for you, on loan to you from the Mandalorian himself, and decided to explore. He had trusted you enough to keep you around and nurse you back to health, so you were sure he wouldn’t have an issue with it. It wasn’t like you were going to steal anything and run; surprisingly that thought hadn’t even crossed your mind.

The Child was following closely behind as took your time, exploring everything, touching anything in your path as you tried to learn more about the mysterious man that served as your savior. He had a large cache of weapons, some common enough to where you’d wielded them yourself, and others much less common, either custom made, or from some far off planet in the galaxy that you’d never explored.

There weren’t many signs of personality throughout the place, very few personal touches to suggest who he was, or what he was all about. Perhaps he had been too busy being a Mandalorian, too many years spent chasing happiness through bounty hunting to know who he really was. Maybe you could break through and get to know the real him, and find out who was actually under the helmet.

When you reached his personal quarters, you only poked your head inside, taking a quick peek before walking away again, not wanting to intrude on his personal space. The Child cooed as he waved his little hand at the little makeshift bed near the Mandalorian’s own, almost as if he was telling you it was his. You picked him up and nodded as you made your way to the cockpit, setting him in the co-pilot’s chair as you looked at all the buttons and handles, running your fingers over them lightly. You’d never flown a ship before, never even come this close to the cockpit before, and you tried to memorize every last detail. It was freedom in a lot of ways, flying to wherever you wanted, getting to come and go as you please. That was all you had ever wanted.

You sat down in what the pilot’s sear, crossing your legs under you as stared outside. You weren’t sure where you were, what planet you were on, but it definitely wasn’t Tatooine; this place was lush and green, trees and plants spreading out as far as the eye could see. It was a marvel, a sight you’d never seen before, and you wanted to go out and explore, but decided to wait and ask before doing anything.

“Have you ever been out there?” you asked as the Child turned to you and seemed to shake his head. You reached over and gave him a gentle scratch between his large ears, listening to him coo, “me neither buddy. I’ve been stuck in the desert for almost my whole life. I didn’t know so much green existed in the galaxy, I always thought it was all fantasy. I went to go and explore, but I don’t want to just go out there. Maybe one day. Maybe one day we can both go there and explore everything.”

He seemed to sense the bit of sadness radiating from you and plopped onto the ground and came over, tugging at the fabric of your pant leg to get you to pick him up. You happily obliged him and sat him in your lap. It was a silent affair as you started outside and watched a soft breeze rustling the nature outside, causing winged creatures to fly around. It was peaceful, bringing more of a sense of ease than anything. You still didn’t know much about the Mandalorian, but you didn’t feel scared or worried, he seemed kind and compassionate, dispute his quiet nature.

“There’s so much beauty out there,” you said as you pointed at a few small creatures scurrying on the forest floor, “in the universe. I never thought I might have the chance to see any of it. I thought I was made to live and die in the sand.”

You hadn’t realized that you had fallen asleep until you felt a hand on your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Your first instinct was to reach for the wrist and grab it firmly, attempting to stop who the sudden intruder was. Looking up, you came found the Mandalorian standing next to you, silently waiting for you to do release him, just like the first time you had done so. You let out a nervous breath as you slowly released his wrist from your iron grip, “sorry...”

“Natural instinct,” he said quietly as he sat down across from you, the Child quickly deciding he wanted to be on his and climbing off of yours and into the Mandalorian’s lap.

“Pardon?” you asked as you relaxed back into the seat and found him looking outside, taking in the same view you had been enjoying earlier.

“It’s natural instinct,” he repeated as you processed what he had meant, “when you have to survive on your won for so long it becomes a natural instinct to protect yourself at all times.”

“Yes,” you agreed, “this is...I haven’t felt this safe in a long time, and it’s...difficult to break old habits. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d be dead by now. Thank you.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” he explained and turned to you, and your felt yourself warming up under his scrutiny. You felt like he was staring deep in your soul, able to see who you really were despite the few exchanges of words. This was the most you had spoken to him, “you needed help.”

“Do you go around saving and taking in everyone you find?”

“No.”

“Exactly,” you said with a small smile, “so thank you. Most people would have left me there to die. I...I’m nothing special. Obviously, I’m just...”

“Enough to have a bounty on your head,” he responded and you nodded, “a handsome one at that. You’re something to someone...you were anyway. You’re dead to them now.”

“I haven’t meant anything to anyone...at least not since...,” you snorted as you ran a hand through your hair, realizing how grimy you suddenly felt, “I’ve been nobody for a long time.”

Without waiting for a response from him you stood up and started to head back to your small quarters, deciding to take a shower. You needed a moment to yourself as much as you needed to wash your body and hair. Somehow the small interaction had worn you out in almost no time. There was something about him that had caused a weird stirring inside you, something that made you almost nervous around him, not that you were worried about him doing anything to you, there was just something about his presence. It was almost magnetic, an inexplicable connection that had been instantly formed.

You found yourself sitting for a long time on the small bed, staring blankly at the wall as you tried to gather your own thoughts and make a plan for what you were going to do now. You were you couldn’t stay much longer now that you were almost healed, but you didn’t necessarily have a place to go either; you were no one now. But perhaps that was the fresh start you needed, you could be anyone now, perhaps even someone making an honest living, helping whatever community you happened to land in.

“Hungry?” you peeled your eyes away from the wall and to the large man standing in front of you, holding a small bowl of soup in his hand, along with a hunk of bread. You nodded as he gently handed you the food, pausing awkwardly for a moment as he tried to figure out whether or not he should stay. You seemed to be able to read his thoughts so you motioned your head to the other of the bed, indicating for him to sit down.

“Thanks,” you said quietly as he sat down and took a big slurp of the soup. He sat there silently while you ate, but it wasn’t an awkward thing; it was comfortable, an almost welcome thing.

“You’re from Mandalore,” he said after you finished eating and set the bowl onto the ground. You paused for a moment, shocked and yet completely unsurprised that he had put it all together so quickly. He was keen and astute, always hyper aware, even when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. You should have known he would be, it was how he was raised, how he was taught to live his entire life.

“Yes,” you answered, giving him a small nod as you bit your bottom lip and wondered whether or not to expand; just how much did you want him to know about who you really were? You quickly shrugged it off, “I was once anyway. I haven’t been there since I was a child...since...”

“You were taken,” his words were soft, more than you had expected and you glanced up at him curiously. You’d never mentioned that to him, to anyone, and yet he knew. He knew almost your entire story with that little fact.

“How do you know that?” you asked as he reached over and held out his hand for your own. You paused for just a moment before putting your hand in his own, letting him take it and push your sleeve up to your below, exposing your forearm. He trailed a gloved finger up the inside of your arm, stopping just before the bend, pointing at the faint tattoo that still managed to cling onto your skin, despite all of your efforts to remove it over the years. You bit your lip and looked up at him and nodded.

“I recognized this,” he whispered before gently setting your arm back down, “I’d never seen one in person before...it’s a number. I’d heard the stories.”

“Numbers. That’s all we got called,” you told him, pulling your knees up to your chest and rested your head on them, “we never got actually got called by our real names. Three-One-Four is all they knew me by for years. Three-One-Four this, Three-One-Four that. They didn’t care about us, I guess calling us digits made it easier for them. It makes you less real to them, you know, less human.”

“You got out...that’s why you had a such a high bounty on your head,” he stated, somewhere between a question and a statement. He’d heard rumors for years of children that had been stolen in the night from poor, unsuspecting families, taken to do the bidding of masters who found them expendable. The Mandalorians had tired to put a stop to the process, trying to infiltrate the ranks and break down the system from within, but they’d never succeeded, ultimately having to disappear themselves.

“You just know everything, don’t you?” you closed your eyes and let out a long breath, “getting out wasn’t easy and I’m not proud of the things I did to do it. But I had to, I had to leave. The cost of the lives required for me to get out was worth it, because it meant that many more would be spared. I didn’t like it, the killing, I never did, but if it meant being able to get out and try and protect innocents then it was worth it, and I would make the same choice over and over again.”

“You’ve been on the run since?” he asked, leaning forward as he listened to every word falling from your lips intently. That feeling was stirring inside him again and he had the strong urge to reach over and hold your hand and in his. He almost did it, but quickly recovered by crossing his arms over his chest, scolding himself for giving into feelings so easy.

“Yes,” you confirmed, “I’ve been moving around the Outer Rim to stay safe, hiding in the shadows there. It’s easier when you’re in the middle of the hive of scum and villainy. No one really cares what you’re doing there if it doesn’t have anything to do with them directly...or if it did, then you could buy them a few drinks and you’d be as good as forgotten.”

“You’ve done well for yourself, you made it this long on your own,” he said and you just shrugged your shoulders. You hadn’t been expecting to spill your entire life story to a virtual stranger, a man who had rescued you for some still unknown reason. It was weighing heavy on your mind, and you had hated reliving any part of it, you normally pushed it to the far recesses of your mind.

“That’s why they called in the big bad Mandalorian,” you tried to play it off and lessen the tension in the room, but he wasn’t laughing, “surviving and living in the shadows is not what I’d call doing well. I did what I had to, and I don’t even know what I’m going to do now.”

“You can do whatever you’d like now,” he reminded you, noticing that your eyes were glistening even in the dimness of the room, “you’re free.”

“They’ll know my face,” you sighed, dabbing at your eyes, trying to not let him see you cry. You had not doubt that he had spied the tears almost immediately, “they’ll see my arm, they’ll know. They’ll find me and take me back, I can’t let my guard down for even a moment. If I get captured they’ll...”

“Kill you.”

“No,” you looked at him, square in the face, hoping you were making eye contact with him through the helmet. You’d wondered how he’s never noticed the marks, all the scars that marred your skin, when he’d taken care of your wounds and helped to patch you up. They were a harsh reminder of exactly what would happen if you were ever caught again, “it’s worse, much worse. They’ll break you until you’re begging for them to just kill you, I’ve seen it before. They’ll do it over and over and over again until even you would be asking for mercy.”

“What were their names?” he tensed and sat up a little straighter, looking at you with a searing gaze as you pointedly looked away, focusing your gaze on the wall as you tried to remain composed. As he realized you weren’t going to give in and look at him, he reached over, unable to suppress the urge, and his gloved hand on the side of your face, “what are their names?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you responded quietly as you took his hand in yours, giving it a small squeeze, feeling compelled to do so, before removing it and letting it hit the bed.

“It matters,” he insisted firmly.

“No,” you said sharply as you finally turned to look at him again, “what are you going to do with the information anyway? You can’t just go out and kill them; there’s just as many people after you as there were after me.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, he slowly got off the bed, grabbing your used bowl as he turned to leave the room. You watched him, hoping you hadn’t upset him, but not wanting to go further with your past. Not yet anyway, or maybe never, maybe this was the extent of your relationship with the mysterious Mandalorian.

“Mando?” you asked, unsure if you should call him that, but deciding to use it since it’s what you’d heard other people refer to him as. He stopped and turned on his heel to face you, head tilted slightly as if he was signaling for you to go, “Y/N. My name is Y/N L/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated softly, testing out how the name felt on his tongue, how it suited you. The corners of your mouth lifted into a small smile as you nodded; it was the first time you’d said your own name in years, hearing it was an almost strange experience, let alone hearing someone else say it. It was the only thing you had left from your old life, the only thing that still made you you.

“Thank you,” you felt your own voice cracking slightly as you away. Over the years you’d taught yourself not cry or break down in front of people; weakness was what you had been told it was. Crying was weakness, showing emotion made you vulnerable, it made you susceptible being something other than a mindless drone. You’d always struggled with that aspect of your life; despite being taught to an empty shell of a fighter, you still found yourself being emotional. It had gotten you a fair share of beatings, so you learned to hold it all in and keep everything to yourself.

“For what?”

“Everything,” you told him him, casting him a half smile, “recusing me, helping me.”

“It was the right thing to do,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But I have to leave,” it was hard to say those words out loud when it was really the last thing you wanted to do. You wanted to stay, you wanted to remain with the Child you had bonded with, to stay with the one man who had made you feel safe for the first time. But you knew you couldn’t...you weren’t going to put them at risk for your own selfish desires just because you had been shown some warmth for once, “a-as soon as this last bit heals up I’ll go.”

There was a moment of pause, the familiar tension back in the air, so thick you could have sliced through it with a knife. He remained silent for a moment, almost as if he was trying to process your words before deciding to respond, before letting out a quiet sigh, “okay.”

He turned and walked out of the room without so much as another sound, his mind reeling with what you had just told him. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but for some reason, he hadn’t been expecting that. That pang, that feeling, was growing again and it was almost enough to cause him to sprint back to you and beg you to change your mind. Instead he pushed past the feeling and carried on, walking autonomously to the kitchen.

As he rounded the corner, he found the Child standing there an expectant look on his little face as he observed his adoptive father. The Mandalorian bent over and scooped him up into his arms, carrying him into the kitchen as he set the bowl into the small sink.

The Child cooed at him, like he had something to say, but unable to form the required words. The Mandalorian set him down the counter and leaned against it, closing his eyes as he let out his signature sigh. He wished he could understand the feelings he was experiencing more, or to be able to shake them off easily, but it much harder than he had already anticipated.

“I know,” he said to the Child, scratching his big ears gently as he sat down and watched him with wide eyes, leaning into the pets he was getting, “I don’t want her to leave either.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #dyn jarren #dyn jarren x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #star wars #step into the daylight series

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emy-loves-you · 4 years

Text

Have Your Name (And Your Back) Chapter 1

(This is a continuation of AU-gust Day 31: Fantasy + Crime, but you don’t need to read it because chapter one is nearly identical to the one-shot)

Patton has never had a happy life, being an abused slave to his own parents, but it's the only life he's ever known. So when he unknowingly gives his name to multiple fairies, essentially giving away his life, Patton doesn't know what to do. Luckily, their head Fairy Roman has claimed Patton as his godson. And while the Fairies have his name, they also have his back.

Masterlist | Chapter 2

Patton grunted as he scrubbed the floors with all the energy he had. He bit back a whimper as his back throbbed from the fresh bruises and cuts. He wasn’t allowed to make a sound until he was asked a question. Patton knew that if he was too loud, his back wouldn’t be the only thing bruised.

“BOY!” Patton’s head snapped up to see his mother at the top of the staircase. Patton made sure to keep direct eye contact, partly because it was required and partly because his mother was wearing nothing but a loose sheer robe.

“Yes, ma’am?” Patton internally winced at the pain in his voice. Showing weakness just meant worse punishments.

Luckily she didn’t seem to notice, making her way down the stairs to the parlor. “Stop scrubbing the tiles. Your work was…” she sneered at the pristine floors, so clean she could almost use it as a mirror. “...adequate. Apparently we will have guests coming over for dinner tonight. Pasta won’t be enough for tonight. Since we haven’t been able to get a new chef yet, you’ll need to prepare a meal for the seven of us. Just cook up a few chickens and serve it with the pasta and salad.” She turned and started to walk away.

Patton whimpered. “The chickens?” That meant that he’d have to… k-kill the chickens.

Suddenly, a hand collided with his cheek. Patton reeled back, falling onto the ground behind him. Patton’s mother stood above him, fuming. “What did you say, boy!?”

Patton bit back a whimper. “Nothing, ma’am.”

She gave him a look before huffing, storming up the stairs. “We better have a perfect dinner tonight, boy! Or you’ll wish for a fate worse than death!”

Patton forced himself to stand up, ignoring the pain as dread forced its way into his system. He grabbed the cleaning supplies and limped his way over to the kitchen, putting them in their respective places. He then opened the door from the kitchen to the backyard, whimpering as a few drops of heavy rain hit his skin. He made it around halfway to the coop before collapsing.

Patton let out a strangled sob as everything hit him at once. The pain in his back from his previous beating. The pain in his knees and arms from scrubbing the floor for several hours. The pain in his face from talking out of turn. The pain from the heavy raindrops hitting his skin and freezing his bones. The pain in his heart from what he had to do.

Patton continued to cry, unaware that the rain had stopped. Or, more importantly, that the rain had somehow shifted to where the area around Patton remained dry; and the area around the manor’s windows increased with vigor, making it impossible to see anything from inside the manor.

Patton heard the sound of a twig snapping off to his left and immediately sat up, forcing his tears to stop flowing (a trick he’d found useful over the years). He internally frowned at the mud on his clothes before forcing a smile onto his face. He turned to look at the person approaching, confusion rising in the back of his mind. His parents had fired all of the staff over the past few years, and the guests weren’t scheduled to arrive until later tonight. And there was no way that his parents would be found outside in the mud. So who could it be?

Standing a few feet away from Patton was a young man, around 30 years old in appearance. He wore a simple black suit with a blood-red undershirt and handkerchief. His dark brown hair was perfectly arranged, and his tanned skin looked flawless. His dark green eyes pierced their way into Patton’s soul. (Patton was so busy observing the man’s ethereal beauty, he didn’t even realize that the man was completely dry). The man smiled at Patton, showing his perfectly white teeth. “Hello, young one.” His voice was deep and smooth, reminding Patton of a warm fire after a long day of work. “What is your name?”

Patton let out a shaky breath. The man was a stranger, and it would make sense not to talk to strangers. But Patton’s learned from experience that he would be in pain if he didn’t answer questions when asked. “My name is Patton, sir.”

The man’s smile widened slightly. “Patton, what a lovely name.” Patton shivered as the words brushed across his skin. “Tell me, Patton, why are you crying?”

Patton started crying again, not realizing that he was more eager to speak than normal. “I-I have t-to kill the chickens.” He whimpered out, wincing as one of his tears rolled over a cut on his jaw.

The man frowned, tilting his head to the side. “Why must you kill the chickens?”

Patton let out another sob. “We have guests arriving for dinner, and mother wants me to cook some of the chickens for supper.”

The man smiled. “Oh, have you never killed a chicken before?”

Patton shook his head. “No, sir. Ever since father fired the cook, I’ve been buying meat from the market. But we were on such short notice, and we have no meat beyond the chickens in the coop.”

The man’s expression darkened. “I assumed that your parents worked in the manor.”

Patton shook his head. “No, sir. My parents are Lord and Lady Hart. There are no more workers in the manor.”

The man frowned. “I was unaware that the Harts had any children. And how do they keep the manor in such pristine condition without anyone to take care of it.”

Patton smiled slightly, glad to prove his usefulness. “I am the only child of Lord and Lady Hart. And I am the one who takes care of the manor!”

The man furrowed his eyebrows. “You keep this entire manor in this condition. You can’t be any older than 10!”

Patton’s smile fell slightly. Yes, he did look quite young, with his blonde curly hair and big blue eyes, freckles scattered across his bruised skin. And maybe he was quite small, around the height of a 10-year-old and so skinny that most of his bones were showing. But it still hurt to be called a child. “I’m 14, sir.”

The man’s face was now blank. “What?”

Patton felt another chill go up his spine, but he forced himself to keep his voice from shaking as he spoke. “I turn 15 in the fall.” It was currently spring, when the rains were heavy and the winter chill was barely letting up.

The man smiled again. Even though there was no difference between this smile and the last one, something told Patton that this one was forced. “Ah, how I love birthdays. How will you celebrate it?”

Patton tilted his head to the side, confused. “Celebrate?”

The man clenched his fist slightly, but his smile and relaxed posture stayed the same. “Well, Patton, I came bearing a gift.” He knelt down to where Patton was still sitting on the ground. “Have you ever heard of a Fairy Godmother?”

Patton thought for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t believe I have, sir.”

The man frowned slightly before smiling again. “Well, in most tales, a young maiden in need will be blessed with a Fairy Godmother, who helps them achieve their dreams.” He brought his hand up to cup Patton’s bruised cheek. The hand was extremely warm compared to the chilly air, and Patton leaned into the touch. “A Fairy Godfather, on the other hand, is slightly different. They can protect young humans who have been hurt by the people they should be loved by. And you, Patton, have been hurt very badly.”

Patton shook his head. “But sir, I deserve my pain!” He saw the incredulous look he was given, and started rambling. “I slept in this morning and was late to cook breakfast, so Father set me straight. I didn’t have the flavor of jam that Mother wanted out on the table, so she punished me for not being prepared. I didn’t call Father ‘sir’ when answering his question, so I was punished. I spoke out of turn instead of doing my job, so Mother gave me a smack as a warning. She was very generous that time. Just today, I’ve been so disobedient. I’m a horrible son. I don’t deserve a Fairy Godfather!”

“Shh…” A thumb caressed his cheekbone, and Patton melted into the touch, still crying. He hiccuped as the thumb wiped away his tears. “Don’t cry, little one. You are not to blame.” Patton went to interrupt, but the hand grew warmer, and Patton sighed at the blissful feeling. “Patton, you may feel as though you deserved this, but you did not. No child deserves the pain that you’ve been through.” Patton let his head be tilted upwards, and his gaze was suddenly locked onto the man’s piercing emerald gaze. His eyes seemed to glow as he spoke. “Patton, I wish to be your Fairy Godfather. Will you allow me to protect you, to allow yourself true happiness? To end the pain and suffering, once and for all?” The air around them seemed to still at his words, the world itself bending to his will. “Patton Hart, do you accept me as your Fairy Godfather?”

Patton’s instinctive thought was to say no. He deserved his pain! The man would soon see how damaged Patton was, and Patton didn’t want to burden another person! But another, smaller part of him spoke up. It was the part of Patton that yearned for the warmth of this stranger’s hand. The part of Patton that smiled when he heard a happy tune, and cried when his parents stopped tucking him in at night. The part that didn’t want Patton to be hurt any longer. I want to be happy.

Patton let out a sob, nodding his head frantically. The man smiled sadly. “Child, you need to use that lovely voice of yours.”

Patton ignored the way his voice cracked as he forced himself to answer. “Yes! I accept you as my Fairy Godfather.”

The man smiled, his green eyes glowing. “Then it is done.” There was a flash of bright light, reminiscent of a fire, and Patton had to close his eyes. When he opened them, the man was gone, a small ring lying where he once stood. It was a beautiful gold ring with ruby gemstones along the band. He slipped the ring onto his finger, and was surprised to see that it was a perfect fit. Patton slowly stood up, noting that not only had the rain stopped, the pain on his cheek had completely disappeared. He turned towards the chicken coop, dread forming in his stomach from what he now had to do-

Five chickens were laid out next to the coop, all with their necks snapped. Patton shakily made his way to the coop, scooping up the chickens to take inside. Their feathers were completely dry, and so were Patton’s cheeks. He had no more tears to shed at the moment.

Patton lugged the dead chickens inside, checking his face in the nearby mirror. His cheek was still bruised, but Patton couldn’t feel any pain from it. Patton shrugged it off, focusing on the task at hand. He did his best to follow the directions from an old cookbook he’d found on how to properly prepare raw chicken. It took the rest of the day to cook, and Patton had just made the pasta when there was a knock on the front door. Patton ignored it, moving to make the salad. He knew that his father would answer the door, and that Patton was not to be seen by the guests.

Sure enough, Patton heard his father’s voice ring throughout the house. “Welcome! You must be Lord Ignis. It is a pleasure to meet you!”

The person laughed. “You’re referring to my brother. You may call me Viridi. These are my associates. You may call them Anguis and Umbra. My brother had some matters to attend to, but he and our final associate should arrive before dinner begins.”

Patton continued to chop the vegetables as he heard his father speak. “Then, let us wait for them in the study.” Patton heard footsteps moving in the opposite direction and sighed, wiping the sweat off of his brow. He’d been working in this stuffy kitchen for hours now.

The door suddenly swung open, revealing Patton’s mother. “Is the food ready, boy?”

Patton shrunk under her gaze, but continued to cut the vegetables. “The chicken and pasta are ready to be served, ma’am. I’m currently cutting up the vegetables for the salad. It should be ready in a few minutes.”

Patton’s mother glared at him. “It should already be done by now!”

Patton whimpered. “I’m sorry.”

His mother scoffed. “Grab some Chardenney to go with the chicken.”

Patton frowned. “We don’t have any Chardenney left…”

Patton shouldn’t have been surprised by the pain that now bloomed across the back of his skull. He whimpered as he accidentally cut himself with the knife. “Listen here you brat.” She growled out. “You are nothing but a nuisance and a waste of space. If you can’t do your job correctly, you’ll wish for death by the time I’m done with you.” She pushed him forward, and Patton winced as the knife dug into his skin. “Get some damn wine.” And with that, she left.

Patton held back tears as he held his now blood-covered hand close to his chest. The pain was excruciating, and Patton didn’t know what to do-

“Is she always like that?” Patton spun around to see a man sitting on the countertop near the door, relaxed as if he’d been there for hours. He wore an expensive-looking black suit with a purple undershirt and handkerchief. His pitch black hair almost completely covered his amethyst colored eyes. His skin was deathly pale, nearly translucent.

Patton attempted to ignore the pain in his hand as he answered the man’s question. “I’m not sure what you mean, sir-”

“Please drop the formalities.” The man interrupted, examining his dark purple nails. “Call me Umbra.”

Patton bowed his head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Umbra. My name is Patton.”

Umbra seemed to shudder as his eyes appeared to glow. Patton blinked in surprise, and the glowing was gone. “It’s dangerous to just give your name out like that, Pa-” He suddenly stopped, appearing to sniff the air. His gaze focused on Patton’s hands. “You’re injured.”

Patton looked down, staring at his blood-soaked hands. He’d almost forgotten about his injury. “It’s fine-”

A hand touched his, and Patton looked up in alarm. Umbra was suddenly in front of him, inches away. Patton felt his breath catch as Umbra whispered. “I’d assumed it was the chicken I was smelling…” His fingers traced through Patton’s blood along the cut, and Patton felt a shiver go up his spine. They stood like that for several seconds before Umbra’s fingers suddenly grazed against Patton’s new ring. “Where did you get this?”

Patton saw Umbra’s expression and looked down at his feet. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

There was a moment of silence before Umbra sighed, letting go of his hand. “The bleeding stopped. Go ahead and rinse the blood off. I’ll finish chopping the vegetables.” Patton was about to speak up, but Umbra beat him to it. “Do it, Patton.”

Patton felt the shiver again as he went to do what he was told, knowing that he could get in more trouble for refusing. He carefully washed the blood off of his hands, making sure that there were no stains from it. He looked back at Umbra and was surprised to see that the salad was done and a bottle of Chardonnay sat next to it. “H-how?”

Umbra smirked. “I am a man of many talents.” He turned and opened the door leading to the dining room. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Patton. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon.”

Patton shuddered as the door closed. He didn’t feel uncomfortable, but something about the people he’s met today…

Patton shook his head, grabbing the salad and wine. He needed to have the dining table ready for dinner!

Patton quickly had the food on the table, each dish covered to keep them warm and/or fresh. He then filled the glasses with wine before quickly hurrying back to the kitchen. Technically, Patton should go to his room (one of the old servant's quarters), but he didn't want to get in trouble for not cleaning up the kitchen. Patton felt his stomach twist in hunger, and Patton wished that he had eaten some of the food before moving it to the dining room. But that would be bad. Patton’s already done enough bad things today. Only good boys got food.

Patton heard the door from the parlor to the dining room open. “My esteemed guests, may I present to you: your dinner!”

Patton whimpered, hugging his knees. He wasn’t allowed to be in the dining room while the guests were eating, and the only other door led to the chicken coop, and Patton wasn’t allowed outside unless he was doing chores! He was stuck in the kitchen until the meal was over!

Patton whimpered as his stomach twisted painfully in hunger. He wasn’t told he could eat tonight, but maybe Patton could have some bread for cooking the chicken well on his first try?

Patton was about to get up and find some bread when he heard a familiar voice. “Thank you for treating us to this feast, Lord Hart.”

Patton’s blood went cold as he heard his father answer. “Please, Lord Hart was my father’s name. We have no need for formalities between us. My name is John, and this is my wife, Elizabeth.”

Patton felt his skin grow warm as the voice chuckled. “Then call me Rubrum.”

Patton forced himself to stand as the discussion continued. “Well, I’ve been introduced to the others, but who’s this young man?”

A different voice answered. “You may call me Glacies. It is a pleasure to be here, John.”

Patton cracked open the door and surveyed the dining room. Patton’s father was closest to Patton, sitting at the head of the table. His back was to Patton, and for that Patton was grateful. Patton’s mother sat on his left. A few seats down sat five men in expensive black suits with different colored accessories. Patton recognized one of them as Umbra, and-

Patton barely held back a gasp, remembering to stay silent at the last second. Sitting at the other end of the table, staring at him from his spot behind the door, was Patton’s Fairy Godfather.

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Taglist (Let me know id you want to be added or removed!): @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess

#Fairy Mafia #tw child abuse #tw blood #tw animal death #sanders sides #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #fake names #tw food

44 notes · View notes

erqixi · 4 years

Text

It had to be done.

——

An Insomnia [Errordream] fanfic

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1589 words

8682 characters

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Warnings- death, slight suicidal thoughts, hella lot of angst, slightly grossly descriptive is an area or two

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Characters- Dream, Error, Nightmare, Ink, and Killer (mentioned)

>——————————————<

Error looked at his palm. This was it, he was going to do it. Tonight was perfect, Dream would love it! Smiling, he tucked a small box into his back pocket. He began to walk over to his portal that led to nightmares place. He never noticed the eyes that followed him.

——

Dream was having a splendid day! He was excited to see Error later tonight. He looked nervous, but then again he always did around Dream, It made him giggle! He walked down the forest path that led to ink's house. It lay in an au that wasn’t very well populated, so it allowed him to stay low and undiscovered. He knocked on the door. A sudden wave of negative emotions washed over him, catching him off guard. It left as quickly as it came, but it left him a tad confused. Before he could ask himself what it was, the door opened revealing a grinning Ink.

“Heya Dream, howyadoin’?”

“I’m doing fine, how about you?” He responded, forcing a grin.

…

Ink gave him a searching look. “You sure? You look a tad shaken… are you alright? Come in, You can tell me while you drink some of the hot chocolate i made!”

It was wintertime in the au they were in, so it made sense to make some. But Ink being hospitable? Really? He couldn’t believe his non-existent ears. Next thing he knew, he was being pulled over to one of the rainbow bean-bags that Ink had laying around his house. On the kitchen counter were two cups of hot chocolate, one with rainbow colored marshmallows and the other with yellow ones. Yum! Ink brought over the cups and the two sat down.

He took a sniff of the hot chocolate. It smelled like apples, which made him queasy. Ink must have forgotten that he didn’t like apples- again- and bought the apple flavored hot chocolate that this au’s farmers market sold. Trying not to choke, he downed a sip or two of the mix.”I- it tastes good!”

“Glad you like it! Now if you don’t mind, I forgot something in the other room, I hope you don’t mind if I fetch it!” Huh, apologetic. What was the occasion? Ink quickly darted to his bedroom.

——

So that he wouldn’t make Ink feel bad, he continued to drink a bit of it. Not long after he felt a burning sensation in his skull. Headache? No… no this was more than a headache, he was sure. The pain was increasing rapidly, and before he knew it, he was not he ground. He started coughing up a black liquid, and negativity flooded over his body, and a black goops started to pour from his right eye. He let out a strangled scream as the goop started covering his whole body, filling him with feelings of negativity that no person should ever feel. He started forgetting things. Wh- whose house was this!?!? Tentacles sprung from his back, ripping his shirt wide open. What is my name? Ribs cracked.

…

Who was he?

He remembered one thing. Error. And with it came not love, but a desire for bloodshed.

Two gray eyes watched soullessly from a distance.

——

Error and Nightmare chatted as they walked through the au. Stars and galaxies littered the sky, as comets flew just miles above where they stood. It was beautiful, absolutely beautiful. What, even destroyers can admire the scenery from time to time! The only reason Nightmare was with him is, honestly, he had no idea where the spot really was. He just told Dream to meet him there, so he had to ask Nightmare to bring him there. The guy was surprisingly supportive. He actually got so excited when Error told him about the proposal that blue apples appeared, glowing in his eyes. That got a laugh out of Error… almost at the expense of one of his fingers… but hey, ink could always make him a new one, right? They walked silently, with a few exchanges, through the sparse forest. The peace didn’t last long though, unfortunately. Nightmare was slowing down a bit, which struck Error as odd. He slowed. “Hey boss, you doing alright?”

“Yeah, just feeling a bit queasy that’s all…”

Nightmare admitting he was a bit weak? Yeah, something was definitely up. “Hey, why don’t we stop for just a minute…?

“Fine…”

They sat behind a large boulder as Nightmare slowly recuperated. Or at least, that was the expectation. But no, the poor guy was getting worse by the second. Neither of them knew what was going on, but it wasn’t good. Growing increasingly worried, both that he is going to be late, and that Nightmare was clearly dying or something, he opened his mouth to tell Nightmare to go home and get some rest or something so he God forbid doesn’t die, when he hears a muffled scream. He whips around to see Nightmare shaking, staring at his hand. Error rushed over to him, soul pounding. His hand. Okay. His hand. His… hand… his… his…

Oh my god his hand-

The goop that covered Nightmares body had parted way, revealing pearly white bones underneath. And it was still going, crawling up his arm. Before he knew it, a small, boy sized skeleton stood before him, shaking to the core. He gaped at what was supposedly his boss.

“This- this isn’t good- oh god-“

“Wh- what the hell- where is the black… stuff!?!?”

…

“This is bad, isn’t it…”

Just from the look Nightmare gave him, he knew it had to be about dream.

“W- what happened to him!?”

“He ate a dark apple- he must have- but why!? He would never purposely eat one! Someone must have made hi-“ he suddenly shoved error into the bushes, with force too strong to have seriously come from something that small. Shaking, he looked at where Nightmare was staring. Oh my God-

“Is that Dr”

Nightmares hand slapped across Errors mouth, and he gave him a warning look. Standing a couple yards away from them was a very goopy, pissed off- what he assumed was- Dream. And he was looking straight at them.

Nightmare and Error looked at each other.

“Run.”

And that they did. As fast as they could. He felt an urge to run towards Dream instinctively, but Nightmare helped him fight it off. That wasn’t Dream anymore.

Demon Dream was quickly catching up to them. “SPLIT UP!” Nightmare shouted.

“ARE YOU CRAZY!?”

“JUST RUN I’LL DISTRACT HIM HE WON'T KILL ME! I KNOW HIM!” Nightmare shouted. Error didn’t pick up the fear and doubt edging Nightmares voice.

Hesitantly he ran in a different direction. He found himself in a clearing where he collapsed, trying to catch his breath, wheezing. This wasn’t happening… please, God tell me this isn’t happening…

he was jolted out of his misery by the sound of footsteps behind him. Dream was standing right behind him.

And dust was dropping from his tentacles. He started shaking. “D- Dream, I-“

One of dreams tentacles wrapped around his neck, snatching him up off the ground, and the ring fell out of his pocket. He couldn’t breathe. “Dream no please stop this isnnnnnntnnt…-“ it got tighter. Multicolored dots and glitches filled his vision. He gagged. “DREAM PLEASE-“ cold, deep orange eyes stared soullessly at him.

Pain pierced his chest, and it all went black.

——

A scream pierced the air.

A jolt went through his body. Wh- where was I!? What am I doing in the forest?!?! Oh my god why do I have tentacles?!-

It all came flooding back. He was at Inks house. He… he collapsed… but why? The… the… the hot chocolate? Apples. Apples… ink left him alone… he...

He…

That traitor put a dark apple in his hot chocola-

He noticed there was something laying by his feet. He looked down.

And he froze. His eyes widened. His body stiffened.

Nonono

NONONONO

He collapsed and wrapped his arms shortly around Error's body. He was shaking violently, head reeling. “YOUR NOT DEAD YOU CAN'T BE-“ He frantically searches for a soulbeat. Then a pulse. But nothing. The guardian of positivity collapsed on Error, gripped his hand, and cried. Cried because there was no reason left to live. Cried till there were no tears left to cry. Cried because of the fear, pain, and guilt that came crashing down on him all at once. But those beautiful stars just glittered coldly down on them. Footsteps sounded behind him, and he turned around to see blue and yellow eyes and a wide smile.

Ink walked over to them.

“Get away from him you psychopath!”

Ink stepped over a few feet and picked up a small golden ring. It donned a beautiful yellow diamond at which the likes of that he had never seen before. Horror dawned on Dream's face.

“Nothing personal kid. But the creators were getting a little weary of the lack of action around these places.” He Summoned a sharp, black bone. Error's body disintegrated into dust. “And I have taken it upon myself to keep them interested. So, like I said…”

He readied his fingers for a snap.

“Nothing personal kid!”

——

He was an amazing actor. It was Killer who found them there, and everyone came after that. He would act terrified, and his eyes a grayish blue color. When they asked what happened, he won’t respond only with, in a shaky voice,

“I just found them here.”

——

64 notes · View notes

aloesarchives · 4 years

Text

Tiger Strong Dad

Pairing: Wakatsuki Takeshi × (fem!)reader

Summary: After your daughter told you about her turmoils and troubles, you do your best to comfort her but Takeshi knows how to deal with it. It involves a little sneak peak at the Kengan matches. Basically, Wakatsuki is a good dad

Word Count:4502 words

Sidenote: I love Wakatsuki too much, guys. He would be such a good dad, let him live that dream.

Warning: Mentions of body insecurity, daughteru is the big sad, slight sadness but happy ending

(A/N): Hi guys, I’m back. If you haven’t noticed already, I’ve been inactive lately and it’s mostly because of e-learning. I just want to thank you all for being patience with me. In all honesty, I wouldn’t think my writing would blow up but it has and I am grateful people enjoy my content. For this oneshot, I put fem reader because the reader is called ‘Mom’ and uses feminine pronouns. The gender of the reader isn’t explicit but I got attacked for something similar to this so I just put fem reader. The reader is 40 and this takes place before the tournament.

(A/N)#2: Edited

As Always, Enjoy!

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You lost count of how many years you have been married to Wakatsuki Takeshi. You didn’t really need to count because he has treated so well over the years. Sure, there were some challenges but you both were able to compromise and walk past them like any good healthy couple.

You were aware of his Kengan status and matches, sometimes you would even go to them along with Furumi Heihachi to support them. The fights didn’t really bother you much as you knew Takeshi was man of unspeakable power and strength. But you can’t help but worry about those he fights, yes he had wins that greatly outmatch his 2 loses. Yet, one of those loses was handed to him by the 5th fang of Metsudo. How can you forget? You were there when his right ankle was broken in that fight and you feared his safety. But Takeshi never cease to amaze you with his strength and still continue to fight after the incident. He did make a promise to you after all, and it was to stay alive in his fights no matter what.

Now, it was a normal Thursday afternoon. You got finished with work and was doing some chores. Your work gave you the option to work from home depending on certain circumstances but those come by once every two weeks. Your kids didn’t come home until around 3:00pm since their school ends at 2:45pm, sometimes they would be home later because they would be studying at school or be out with friends. No one was home right now as Takeshi usually gets dragged hangs out with Cosmo. After looking in the Fridge, it seems that it’s pretty much empty and it doesn’t help that you have a decently large fridge. So you take it upon yourself to restock your entire fridge before you get home. Luckily, the market you always go to was 5 minute walk from your house, making it very convenient.

After grabbing your usable heavy-duty grocery bags and cart(let’s be honest, plastic is overrated), you made your way over there. It wasn’t much of a hustle knowing what to buy cause you buy the same things. It also isn’t a surprise that your grocery bill exceeds $100.00 every time but again it doesn’t bother you. Leaving with your cart full, almost overflowing, you quickly made your way home. Once home, you put away what needs to be put away. Not even an hour later, your oldest son, Tadashi age 17, came in the through the door and sat on the big sofa on the living room. He did greeted you but by the way he dropped his bag, he looked tired. Spring finals were coming up and he was a fairly good kid that kept out of trouble. But mostly was to not face the wrath of both you and Takeshi.

“I’m home!”

“Welcome home, Kei!”

Now here comes your second child, Kei, your 16 year old daughter. She looks and acts like you, but she inherited Takeshi’s strength and fighting spirit. The thing about your kids is they somehow got his muscle density gene; however, it was 4 times less than Takeshi’s. But it still meant your kids had muscle fibers that were 13 times denser than the average human. Tadashi knows how to fight but is much more of a pacifist and just like to workout and be in shape. But Kei likes the thrill of adrenaline running through her. She has been doing Kendo and is practically one of the highest ranking female kendo practitioner in the school. Now it makes sense why you make so much food for them, they’re growing kids with high metabolisms along with their bulky father. Kei almost eats as much as her father to keep up her body up in shape. It can be noted that your daughter didn’t have the average female body, the exercises plus the gene from her father gave her a fit, toned, and athletic body. Her muscles aren’t prominent, but you can tell she had them and were there on her body. It was apparent that her body, along with skill, technique, and training, helped her maintain her high status and rack up many wins. Like her older brother, she’s a good kid that doesn’t like trouble. She is your beloved daughter and has a close relationship with her brother as he is playing a video-game right now and both of them are shouting at an intense battle right now. You shake your head at their antics and started to make dinner. Your phone buzzed and it was a text from Takeshi. He said he’ll be home soon and is hungry. You chuckle at the bluntness of the message and said dinner is almost ready. You call your kids to set up the table before he gets home. They saved the game and turned off the t.v to help you set up the table.

By the time Takeshi got home, dinner was all set and the kids were talking to each other at the table. Dinner goes like always, everyone eats, you ask the kiddos anything about school, they respond with the usual, Takeshi asking about extracurriculars they were involved in and they answered. Small conversations would pop up here and there but family dinners at home were pleasant without any tension whatsoever. At times your kids would tease Takeshi when he would recall something from past. You would lightheartedly tell them to leave their father alone but it was all fun and games where even Takeshi would get a laugh out of it. After everyone finished eating, you cleaned up and did the dishes. Since it was a school night, your kids went straight into their rooms, freshen up, and sleep. As you finishing up the dishes, you were just tidying up the kitchen and the table. Before nearly finishing up, you heard footsteps coming towards the kitchen and living room area. You assume it was your kids but those thoughts were proven wrong when you recognized who was coming by the weight of their footsteps. It was Takeshi, shirtless and clad in grey sweatpants, fresh out of the shower drying his hair with a towel. It was pretty late on the hour when you check the time. You heard your husband plopped himself on the sofa and give out a heavy sigh. Being done with your small chores, you soon join your husband, whereas upon sitting down he leaned down and laid his head on your lap.

“God, I’m so old.”

“Dear, you’re only 40 years old. You’re getting old but you’re not that old.”

You chuckle at him when he mentions his age. You softly stroke his hair as the two of you sat in blissful silence. After awhile, he sat up with his back facing you. You slightly draw your hand back, looking concerned at him.

“Dear, what’s wrong?”

“I forgot to tell you I have a few kengan matches on Saturday. It slipped my mind and I thought I should tell you beforehand.”

“Anyone of your opponents that stand out to you?”

“Not really, however, there is one that has been racking up recent wins and is pretty young. I think he is around Cosmo age but I’m unsure.”

You hummed at him, leaning your head against his back.

“Well, I hope you remain victorious, Takeshi.”

Chuckling to himself, he picks you up and heads off to your shared bedroom to sleep the night away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank god you had the day off today from work. While everyone left the house, you just slept another hour in. The kiddos are at school and Takeshi was going to visit Heihachi for the day. Since the house was clean and no chores needed to be done, you change to your day clothes are started being productive inside the house.

A few hours have past and the front door opened. You were curious on who it was since it was midday and the schools don’t until a few hours later. Sitting up from the couch, you look to see who it was. It was your daughter, but something felt off. She didn’t announce that she was home nor greeted you.

Something was wrong.

You hear the door to her room being close every so softly and opening again. Her footsteps weren’t soft but carried hesitation with each step. She walked into the living room area with her head hung low and slowly stood in front of you. You asked her what’s wrong before she sat next to you with her head hung low. You coaxed to tell you what’s troubling her. She didn’t say anything which worried you but eventually did.

“Hey Mom, am I too muscular?”

“Sweetie, come again?”

“Am I too muscular, like is it an eyesore like I stick out?”

Bewildered was an understatement on how you felt. You were ultimately perplexed. Where was this coming from?

“Kei, where is this coming from? Did something happen at school?”

It went dead silent, which made you uncomfortable. Before you can say something, you saw Kei begin to shake, which made you parental instincts jump. She lifts her head to reveal big, fat, dews of tears running down her face. Surprisingly, when she spoke her voice was calm but laced with… embarrassment? But it was when your daughter told what was causing her to feel such a way that it started to come together. Apparently, today was a half day which explains her being home early. Since school ended early and it was going to be the weekend, she decided to bring home her Kendo stuff. On the way to the main entrance after getting her stuff, she notice three people by the shoe lockers. One of the was a guy and the other two were girls, she knew the girls because she shared a class with them. The thing was she had a small crush on the guy that was a upperclassmen she made acquaintance with. It was wrong to eavesdrop but curiosity got the best of her as she hid and kept quiet to listen to their conversation. It wasn’t anything important but her ears perked up at the mention of her name.

“So, what do you think of Kei? It seems you like her.”

“I mean, I would but there’s just one thing about her that I don’t like… It’s her arms. They’re not your average slender, sleek, girl arms that would look nice hooked on mine. They are still arms but they not something a girl should strive for. If I would be honest, she would lower her chances getting someone if she keeps it up. I know she’s giving our school a good reputation but I wouldn’t date someone that’s stronger than me.”

The two girls remain silent until he told a joke to break the tension in the air which made them laugh. Kei knew they just did it to not be awkward but a bit they said their goodbyes to the boy that left soon after them. Kei stood in her spot, clutching her school bag with hurt and betrayal. After making sure they left, she walked out of school and made her way home. Along the way, the negative thoughts ate at her, feeding into her doubt and insecurity until she got to the front door.

And here you are now, listening to your daughter’s dilemma, baffled. There was nothing wrong with your daughter. She’s just a young girl that’s enjoying herself and life. She did nothing to deserve any of this, to feel betrayed by someone she knew, to feel frustrated and condemn herself just because she wasn’t like everyone else. Many emotions were running through you, but mostly anger and heartache for your daughter. You wanted to beat up the bastard for thinking so lowly of your child, yet you also knew that she needed some love and reassurance from you. As you pulled her into a hug, her soft sobs were muffled into your shoulder. Although she was muffled, you can hear her say if it was wrong to have a body like hers and if she ever find someone who would love her for who she was. Although they are words, it feeds the insecurity of someone as they think it over. This honestly broke your heart, no parent ever wants their child like this. You told her that there was nothing wrong with her body and that this makes her who she is. You can tell that she was listening by the sniffles and the slight nodding she gave. Eventually, the sobbing died down to small hiccups. You pulled away from your dear daughter, wiping her tears away and telling her you, her brother, and father love her very much and wouldn’t change anything of her. She gives out a small thank you to you before lying down on the couch and taking a nap. Your eyes soften, a frown bearing upon our lips as you drape a blanket over her.

For awhile, the house was deadly quiet. Kei was sleeping and you were sitting at the dinner table with (drink) left untouched. You were thinking on what to do to cheer her up. But your lost your train of thought when the front door opened. Tadashi made his presence known and walked into the living room. You greeted your son and asked where he was. He said he did needed extra tutoring on some subjects. Due to this, he stated he had no homework. Perfect, this gave you an idea.

“Tadashi, when your sister wakes up from her nap, I want you to spend time with her outside the house.”

“Wait, what? Why mom? Are you and dad needs some alone time or…?”

“No you silly goose, I thought it would be some good sibling bonding for you guys. Plus, are you denying free money that I will give you? It’s 10,202yen($95.00).”

Your son thought about it, but then again, who wouldn’t want to take free money? He said that he would do it but waited for his sister to wake up. He would’ve done it but last he did it his nose was red, not bleeding. Half an hour later, she woke up from her nap fine with the exception of her eyes being a little red. You told her what you told her brother and she went to her room to change out of her school uniform. Afterwards, they left the house and said they would be back around 9:00-9:45. Once they were gone, you sighed and leaned into the kitchen counter. It wasn’t of frustration, but more of your heavy thoughts. To get your mind off, you started to make dinner. Since your children were out, making dinner was going to be less time consuming. Queue your husband coming home as you were waiting with the food, ho and ready. He asked where the kids were and you just said that they were out having a sibling bonding moment. He just left it there and continue to eat. Takeshi thanked you for the dinner and said he would be heading off into the bedroom. You replied that you would join him shortly. Although Takeshi wasn’t a mind reader, he was a very observant man due to his analyses while watching many kengan matches. He knew something was up by your delayed responses and wondering eyes during your conversation. Once the kids got home from their adventure and sending all the money you gave them, he confronted you in the kitchen where you were drinking a glass of water.

“(Y/N), what’s on your mind? And be honest with me.”

Do you really want to tell him the truth about Kei? Takeshi isn’t a brash person but you didn’t want to make feel uneasy and guilty of something she inherit from him.

“Well, Kei told me she had a really bad day at school today. But she avoided on telling me what happened. It really seem to throw her off so I told her and Tadashi to go out and have some sibling bonding. But I’m still worried about her.”

You spaced out a bit but you snapped out of it when Takeshi walked up to you. Looking up at your giant of a husband, you smiled at him. God, he was beautiful and you often wonder if he was ever were able to be with him but that’s a story for another day. Instantly leaning into him, you wrapped your arms around his frame and he reciprocated your movement in a soft but secure hug.

“I’ll take her out tomorrow.”

You shifted your head to face up at him

“But what about your matches tomorrow? You should at least give yourself some time to warm up.”

“No, I don’t mind. I’ll send her home before then. Trust me on this.”

You furrowed your brows at him. He was very adamant about revealing this side of his life, more so letting his kids found out about it. But this was something different, you could tell in the way he talked and the look in his eyes that he was planning something. You didn’t question it and decided to trust him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kei woke up a little later in the morning and when she woke up the house was too quiet for her liking. Mostly the t.v would be on and the sound of your cooking would spread throughout the house, but not today she guessed. Once dressed, she grabbed her phone and walked downstairs into the living room. But there was nothing, or rather no one inside the room. Except her dad.

“Dad, where’s mom and bro?”

“Your mom is out in the city doing some errands and your brother’s out with his friends. Since they’re not home and won’t be home until later, you wanna hang out with your old man?”

Kei chuckles, a wide grin appearing on her face.

“Hell Yeah”

Then the father and daughter shenanigans begins. Well, Kind of. Kei knew that her dad was beginning to pack on the years, aka getting old. So she just did some easy things like eating some street food, walking around in a local park, and having a conversation. She doesn’t want to push her dad so much to leave his comfort zone especially since he’s not your average Japanese man, so she settles for these smaller things which was enough for her. At some point she told him to find a spot in the park where they can sit while she went to get something. After a few minutes, she came back with 2 waffle cones with 2 scoops of ice cream on top of that. She sat down in front of him and gave him the other one in her hand. Thank god that he found an unoccupied tree with nice shade or they would be burning up for the high sun. Takeshi felt kind of bad that Kei really took it easy for him but he knew she genuinely having a good time spending time with him. Kei asked him questions and stories that involved you and him before she was born, it was honestly very wholesome. Some laughs and teasing here and there but it was all good in the end.

Once they had enough, they got up and noticed that the sun was setting and night was starting to take its place. Takeshi asked Kei what time it is and she replied, with shock, 7:00pm. Wait, he was supposed to be at the venue in 30 minutes but the commute is at least 20 minutes to get there. He would send Kei home but he knew she would get suspicious and follow him if he told her to go straight home out of the blue. Does he want to expose her to the underground fighting world or not? Kei got worried her dad was spacing out and was waving her hand in front of asking what was wrong. He said it was nothing but she knew otherwise. She was persistent in knowing what was wrong with her dad and this was where Takeshi knew there was no point of talking her out of it. She told him he needs to go somewhere but needs to swear that what she sees must be kept a secret. Kei sweared to him and they went off to the venue. As they walked towards the venue, she was wondering why he was so reluctant on taking her to this place. This only added on her curiosity as it was a empty parking garage that was filled with businessmen, CEOs, and people of high status. Takeshi told her this is where he would have to leave her to do his business. As he walks away, she looks around to and sees to familiar figures. It was you and Mr. Furmi having a conversation in the near the front of the open space in the sea of people. Hearing a all to familiar voice, you turn around and see your own daughter coming at you. When she came towards you, your face was evident with shock. Before you could ask her what she was doing here, she read your mind and explained she was persistent with her father where he was going this late at night and made him take her. You really didn’t expect this from Takeshi but then again your daughter was a little stubborn when she wanted to know something. Kei greeted Mr.Furmi who waved back at her with a smile before asking you what all of this was. You explain her the legacy of the Kengan matches, the underground fighting ring, and how her dad was the representing fighter for Furmi pharmaceuticals and the longest recorded fighter in its history. You thought Kei was going to freak out but those thoughts were tossed out the window when she had that twinkle in her eyes.

‘Damn, who knew dad was so badass…’

There were 4 matches in total, two of them involved Takeshi. His matches were in the second half but these fights didn’t take long. While the matches went on, Kei was just mesmerized by this new world she just found, she also made the discovery that public martial arts pales in comparison of a fighting chance in the underground ring. The matter is this was something on a whole ‘nother level. The first 2 matches were eventful but then Takeshi’s matches followed soon after. Takeshi’s first match only lasted a minute where he finished off with a kick to the face. Then the last match of Takeshi soon came to the light as they announced who the next opponent was. And when the opponent entered the circle, Kei’s stomach dropped so quickly at the sight of him. Her breath hitched, eyes wide like quarters, and her hands become clammy. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice your daughter’s sudden change in appearance as if she had seen a ghost.

“Mom… that’s him…”

“Him?”

“That’s him, mom… the one that I…”

Kei couldn’t even finish her sentence as her throat closed up as her depravity thoughts started to swarm her minded. You hugged her side and rubbed her shoulder to console her. Turning to face the stand off, you narrow your eyes at the boy. He held a cocky smirk, eyes filled with overconfidence.

‘Takeshi, kick his ass into next week.

Before the fight began, the boy was throwing some hefty statements at your husband.

“To fight the great ‘wild tiger’ Wakatsuki Takeshi, it’s a pleasure. But, alas, it’s time to knock you off your win streak, old man.”

“Nice try, kid. But I wouldn’t count on it.”

As the referee told them to take their stances, the smirk never left the boy’s face. But it never fazed Wakatsuki at all. As the hand of the referee dropped down in a fluid motion, the fight had begin. Wakatsuki didn’t move from his position, which gave his opponent the opportunity to engage and go full force at him. He threw a barrage of punches at his face and chest. Of course, Takeshi remained unharmed and blocked his barrages with minimum effort. He didn’t deny that the kid was strong. But he was far more stronger than him. When his opponent went in for a front kick to his chest, Takeshi literally tighten his chest muscles and when the kick landed you can hear the boy’s foot crack. The pain was evident in his face as the kick landed. When he tried to retract his foot, Takeshi grabbed his ankle and went in for a hard liver shot. Although you have seen your husband’s power and his immeasurable feats of strength, his power still amazes you to no end. The fight was already decided, after the liver shot landed the boy was fling back by a few feet from where he was. The boy laid unconscious with his eyes rolled into the back of his head. The referee called the match with Takeshi the winner. The crowd went wild, as expected to the strongman of the kengan matches. You glance over to your daughter who look at flabbergasted, her jaw slightly a jarred, but you can tell in her eyes that she was astonish at what she witness.

“So Kei, what do you think?”

There was a long pause, but by the way she smiled said it all.

“Mom, I think I’m happy with what I got from dad.”

You smiled back at your daughter and after some time Takeshi walked towards the two of you. You smiled upon your husband and congratulate him on another win. He thanked you before turning to Kei, she faced her dad in the eyes with a soft smile. He smiled back at her and they went in for a hug. It warmed your heart at this wholesome moment, but it was very late into the night and it would be wise choice to head home. After saying bye to Mr. Furmi, the three of you made your home. As Kei walked in front of you, you stayed beside Takeshi.

“You’re a very good dad, dear. More than you give yourself credit for.”

He shakes his head with a small grin grazing his lips.

“Hey, she also has gotten some stuff from you too, remember that.”

The two of you smiled at each other as Kei calls to you to catch up as she is much further away from you. As the two of you pick up the pace, you felt your husband’s hand intertwine with yours. He also did this and you of course let him. In the serenity of the night, you wouldn’t deny the luck you had to be with such a good man, a good man who turned to be a great father.

For that, you never would take him for granted, and your kids can agree with you on that too.

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(A/N):This work right here, honestly, isn’t my best or worst. The sudden info dump and pacing of this is all over the place but I think its still pretty decent. Now that I finally finished this and with school being done, I have so many things to write. It would mostly consist of the following:

-Wakatsuki headcanons

-Joji headcanons

-Gaolong headcanons

-Gaolong one-shot

-Cosmo headcanon

-Dad headcanons

-Any unfinished drafts

This is the order I will most likely work on and release. Thank you guys for being patience with me, and see y’all soon

#kengan ashura × reader #kengan ashura #wakatsuki takeshi #kengan omega

66 notes · View notes

rebelliouslala · 4 years

Text

It’s In The Stars

(soulmate au, reincarnation au, namjoon x reader, fluff, language, 2.3k words)

song suggestion: “we’ve never met but can we have a cup of coffee or something?” by In Love With a Ghost yes that was my inspiration

The royal palace buzzed like a hive once the doors shut behind the Kim family. It practically was, the worker bees had been tending to the Kim Prince all morning. Even as they cooked for the Prince and his family, even if they clothed him, they still buzzed the rumors of his new and arranged bride.

“She has such beautiful hair!”

“Her skin glows whenever she smiles!”

“They will have such talented children!”

Even if the workers did have a crush on the prince, they couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed in excitement. The one who could not spread such rumor, but only hear, was Kim Seok-Jin. He had been wrapping the robes around the Prince however, humming and tending to his cleanliness for the big day.

That was until the Prince flinched. He stepped away from his servant and instead sat down on the pedestal, head in his hands.

“Your Highness?” the servant said, piqued at the sudden movement.

“Forgive my, curious behavior, but I am just, so worried.” the Prince looked at the reflecting glass across from him, biting his lip. “I do not know this bride.”

“According to the stars, sire, we have found she is your soulmate.”

“Oh don’t bother with that, Seok-Jin. You and I both know Father and Mother-,”

“It is true! Have you not heard of my bride? She and I will be wed soon, privately.” The Prince looked over with a frown, “How could you not tell me? I would love to attend.”

“You shall, with your new wife.”

With a groan he looked at the wood ceiling above. “Seok-Jin I do not want to marry a girl I have never met.”

“But you have!”

“Children do not count. I hardly remember my childhood.” The young Prince mumbled, “Nor do I remember even being a child.”

Seok-Jin sat down next to the Prince, a growing frown being painted on his lips, “Well, your Highness, you cannot judge her. Besides, you will also have your concubines to love. In other ways as-,”

“Seok-Jin.” Time froze, and the servant could only hear the young man’s shaky breath as he whispered, “I hate it here.”

“I know you do, sire.” Seok-Jin mumbled back.

“When will it end? The facade I must live?” Seok-Jin backhugged his Prince. Luckily no one else of the Royal Court or family was here, to see them hug, to see them show affection and care. They would’ve had the man’s head.

“You know, when I first met my fiance—,”

“Seok-Jin please—,”

“Let me finish, Nam-Joon! Aish, you never let me finish my stories!” He pouted. The Prince pursed his lips at his name, clinging onto the other man’s tight and securing arms, “Sorry.”

“Now where was I- ah! My lovely Chung-ae. Oh, when I first saw her at the market, from your bride’s kingdom, Time stopped when I saw the red string on my finger glow. I had almost tripped over myself trying to win her heart.” The servant chuckled, nearly cuddling the Prince with the memories, “She slapped me once, called me a buffoon for trying to boast with her.”

“Your flirtatious actions are conceded, Seok-Jin.” Prince Nam-Joon smiled softly, his dimples gleaming a little, like shining water in the summer.

“Did you know I met her when your father and mother were fighting? Your parents had threatened to use me as their beating stick. Your father ad struck me multiple times because his temper was, not at it’s best.” Nam-Joon faintly nodded, his eyes nearly shutting, “I do remember.”

“But it was Chung-ae. My darling, beloved angel Chung-ae who brought the light. She had made me smile, made me love something even if life, and your father, had struck me down so many times. I do not know if you will like your bride, that it it’s own mystery, Nam-Joon. But give this Princess a chance. This is your soulmate. You both will be happy. The stars of this universe never lie.”

The Prince heaves another heavy sigh, his face contorting, “That is just Royalty propaganda. You have not seen the royal soulmate marriages like I have. Cruel, meaningless marriages. I know my parents do not love each other. Like I will never find someone to love as well,”

A knock resounds throughout the room, and Nam-Joon scrambled up, standing regal, with his arms open. Like his mother had once said, a prince is not a prince without his godly stance.

“Ah, sorry I must’ve stepped into the wrong room.”

Nam-Joon turned but his servant had already rushed to the doorway. “Princess! This is the Prince’s quarter!”

“Oh! Pardon me, I was only looking for my future in-laws’ room. I wanted to greet them.” Seok-Jin pointed, somewhere where the Prince could not see, “They’re across the court.”

“Thank you—,”

“Kim Seok-Jin, at your service.” The servant bowed, deeply. “Ah, are you related to the Prince?”

“Not entirely, little warning, he’s a brat.” Nam-Joon retorted, clearing his throat. But he heard the Princess’ giggle, “I’ll keep it in mind. Thank you Seok-Jin.”

“Take care, Princess.” The doors close, and Nam-Joon slouched, “Seok-Jin!”

“She has to know!”

The Prince sighed, and he muttered quietly, “She sounded sweet.”

“AH HA!” the servant pulled away from his duty of clothing him. “SEE?”

“First impressions often are the opposite.”

“You felt something, didn’t you sire?” Nam-Joon glared at him, “Just fix me up!” Seok-Jin chuckled, humming with pride at his tiny victory.

ꕥ

The entire Kim family stood as they see the tall man walk down the aisle. King Kim Kyu-Hwang stiffened as his son’s face was barely covered by the veil, muttering at his wife, Queen Kim Ho-Sook, “Can you fucking believe our son?”

“It’s his wedding day. Let him.”

“He is becoming king right now! You would’ve thought he would come in with grace.”

Ho-Sook looks up with a frown at her husband, “At least his stance is well.”

“Son,” the King said gruffly to his son, hitting his back. Nam-Joon’s eyes almost bulge out as he nodded back, “Father.”

“Are you ready to see your bride? Your mother and I searched the entire land for your soulmate.” Nam-Joon turned slowly, muttering, “You searched until you found a king you could fool into away his daughter and his kingdom’s resources against the wars.”

Kyu-Hwang’s grip against his son became insane to ignore, “Such harsh words to your father, especially one who is giving you the crown, young man.” Nam-Joon scowled back at his father one last time. He stiffly turned back, to witness his bride walking down the aisle.

Even if the robes of crimson you wore reminded him of his stay in the wars. Even if the purple makeup you wore reminded him of the bruises bloomed by his father’s touch. Even when the servants yelled your name like his mother did to him.

He never fell in love with someone as fast.

For years he only felt himself shrivel in agony.

Look at the looking glass only to find blurriness because of the tears.

He could not even love himself.

Yet when he looked at the Princess, with her beautiful hair hidden underneath a crown; her figure disguised by the wedding robes, her heart stopping smile masked by a stern face.

Even if you had to hide; Nam-Joon still found the beauty you were gifted with.

Not only were you walking down the aisle, hesitantly looking up to meet his eyes, you smiled. At a man you did not know.

Lovingly he took your hands, and his dimples shine a little as he tries to talk, “Princess-,”

“Y/N. My name is Y/N.”

He held your hands close, not letting his father brush him off as his teeth shone like the sun behind him, “Y/N, I know we only met, but would you like to kiss?” Nam-Joon cringed slightly at using Seok-Jin’s line, but you laughed quietly, covering your smile.

He took your hand down, looking at you with care.

“Well, isn’t that why we’re here, Prince?” you said sweetly, letting his hands down to your waist, and your hands towards his neck as your lips connect.

ꕥ

You woke up, holding your head.

“Y/N?”

You look at your roommate, Seokjin. His pink lips frowned, and held your throbbing head. “Y/N you were having that dream again, weren’t you?”

The details of his face had been much too realistic. His dimples. His shining brown eyes creasing as his light caramel skin flushed with a pretty red.

You knew that face like you knew how to mix an Iced Americano, and to be honest;

He seemed so real.

“No, I’m fine, thanks. I didn’t scare you, did I?”

Seokjin shook his head, “No, but Y/N please—,” You brush his hand off your shoulder with a smile, “I’m fine, thanks.”

While your best, and only friend really did know couldn’t help dreaming about him, he let you go to the restroom, the romantic glint in your eyes passing by his instinct.

Luckily Seokjin had woken you up so you could go to work. Fixing your hair up and such, you hug your roommate goodbye.

Seoul always made you feel, weird. Like this was not your home. Yes you were born and raised, like many others, but still you wanted more than the smell of the River Han.

It’s like you were unsatisfied.

That and the new hot tricks on finding soulmates quickly. Your hint was unknown, doctors said you would know immediately when you met them. You assumed, the man in your dreams. He had been with you his whole life, being the shadow on everything you’ve done.

Even when you tried to apply to art college, your head full of images of him smiling, near you, crying, in a telephone booth, they wouldn’t take it.

They didn’t believe your sappy soulmate tale.

But you didn’t mind, right now you were the manager of one of the hottest cafes in downtown Seoul. And not only were you manager, you made your own coffee recipes, grinding foreign beans, making new designs in coffees that have never been heard before. Even crazy tea mixtures. Tourists paid to go to Korea for your cafe.

Yet still, emptiness always paved way in your mind. You were hungry, but for what? Was it love? Companionship?

No matter, today you felt different. Every day usually you drove, but on this beautiful spring day, you walked. After all, you did have to greet your subjects.

Kim Namjoon however was working under his father. He watches his father blackmail on his workers, chest on his mother, just be an all around asshole.

Thankfully today he had an excuse to quiet work in his own private office. One of the only perks he got.

But the stench of soju always got to his nose before the words could to his ears.

“Son,”

Namjoon looks up from his thin framed black spectacles and forces a smile, “Father.”

Drumming his fingers on Namjoon’s desk, the CEO of the record label, Kim Kyu-hwang bares his front teeth with a grin, exhaling out more of his grotesque stench, “You’re working late, I see.”

Namjoon continues to type on his computer silently, his eyes darting to his relative then his technology, “Yes Father, last night you went out partying again, and anther woman claims you’ve gotten her pregnant.”

“Did you pay her off?”

Namjoon looks up, staring coldly. “No. I haven’t. I’m not planning to.” Taking off his glasses, he leans on his desk, “Why are you here?”

“I thought you could go out on a walk with me, son! Go find a new model for the company. Plus I wanted to check out that new cafe.”

After 26 years, Namjoon’s father now wanted to bond?

“I’m fine, thank you Father.”

“Come on, we can try to find your soulmate.” he punches Namjoon’s forearm, more roughhousing like a sibling than a dad.

Namjoon inhales deeply, holding the bridge of his nose. “Jesus- fine. After I’m still going to work late, because of you.”

“I know, now get your jacket. Can’t let my son look like a son of a bitch.”

As his father strutted out, humming one of his group’s new Kpop songs, Namjoon boils.

“I have a macchiato with caramel and cream?” A hand pokes out of the crowd, which you hand and rush back to fill the other orders.

Even if the cafe was always crowded, with the scent of all kinds of people, your favorite always popped out.

Green tea.

That scent had always made you flutter your eyes, like you were transported into another life, long ago.

Mysteriously, like your dream.

The doors open, letting some of the tea smell escape.

Usually you didn’t mind who came through. But some sort of force made you look up, a tall, handsome man stepped through.

Light reflected off his skin, making him almost glow. His sweet eyes stared back at yours, and the little shimmer in his eyes told you enough.

It was him.

Transported all the way from Dreamland.

From your kingdom.

From your other life.

Not only was he your Prince, you recall, he was your soulmate.

You go to the cashier immediately, throwing off the stupid apron you wore as you wore your biggest grin.

But the older man, that bastard of a King-, no, CEO. He smirks at you, moving in front of the young man, “My, what a pretty girl.”

You stare back at him grimly, sighing. “Hello, may I take your order sir?”

“Perhaps you can. If you meet my son, pretty girl.” Your face contorts at his sickening words. This man hardly knew you.

But you knew him.

“Father,” his voice is deep, and stern.

He pushes in front with a stressful sigh as he pushes a card towards you.

You didn’t care what it said. Nor what it even meant. You instead took his hands and look at him. He looks at you, his dimples almost showing like they did when in your dreams, like when you and he had your first kiss.

The emptiness was filled to the brim, almost overflowing when he held your hands back with one large hand, “Uh—?”

With a sweet smile to stop his heart, and his words, you whisper, “Hey, we never met but can we maybe get a coffee sometime?”

#ultkpop #ykn #bts #bts namjoon #bts fluff #namjoon fluff #soulmates #reincarnation #royalty #bts imagines #dee writes

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mf-despair-queen · 5 years

Text

Manager Girl - Dylan O’Brien AU

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Pairing: Baseball!Dylan O’Brien/Reader

Word Count: 15,211

Summary: Now knee deep in the role as manager of the Mets, you find yourself in a hard place when Dylan’s performance has warranted drastic measures from Mickey Callaway.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Oral (both receiving), Unprotected Sex, Dirty Talk, Spanking, Hair Pulling, Public Sex, Shower Sex, Wall Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Side Sex, Squirting, Some sort of feels and cheesy romance?

Notes: This took. Forever. And I’m sorry for that. But thank @roscoeknows for being there to support me and help me through this every step fo the way. She is the best Hiro Hoechlin ever???

“Dyl, we shouldn’t be doing this right now.”

The words were broken as they passed through your lips, gasps of delight mingling with the crackled vocals that rumbled from your throat. Your skin burned with the searing hot kisses that were placed to your neck, toes curling into the flats that adorned your feet. The papers that once covered your desk were pushed aside gracelessly, some spilling over the edge onto the carpeted floor, with the opposing body that was leaned over your desk, assaulting your features with the plump, pink lips on his face.

A distinct smirk grew on his features when he pulled away, pushing himself off the desk before rounding it quickly. The chair you were sat in was pushed back, wheels rattling against the plastic mat under your desk’s edges. The round bottom of the baseball player you so fondly adored, despite years of torment and agony, was perched on the edge of the desk, his large, veiny hands cupping your cheeks. The lips you desired in the odd hours of the day ghosted over yours, taunting you with the dream-like connection that was destined to meet them.

“We have time,” was the husky, sultry response that seeped off his tongue. His lips pressed to yours for a brief second before trailing along your jaw to your neck again that was instinctively craned for him access.

“But practice is about to start,” you breathed out amidst the moan of his name you let out, eyes fluttering closed. The front of your blouse was tugged south, kisses peppered to your clavicle. Our hands rose, weaving through the soft locks atop his head that laid flat from the hat he wore in that morning.

Dylan made a sound of dismissal while shrugging his shoulders, smiling against your chest. “They won’t miss me at the start,” he murmured. “Besides, we will be quick. I know you can’t resist me, baby. I know I drive you insane. You’re my girl for a reason. So, what do you say? Just a quick round before I’m busting my ass all day?”

Your lips pursed together, deliberating on not only his arrangement, but everything around you. A year that this had been going on. A year since the egotistical, top player of the New York Mets had changed his fuckboy ways, becoming the loving, caring boyfriend you’d never thought he could be.

And you were on cloud nine.

Things had been amazing. You had officially assumed your role as one of the managers for your dream team. You had practically moved in with your boyfriend, more of your clothes sitting in the drawers in his house than your own. The time spent with him, watching him become a man after your own heart, made it flutter aimlessly. And the rendezvous in your office without anyone knowing what crazy things you were doing behind closed doors made your adrenaline pump.

You couldn’t be happier.

Smiling widely, you pulled him up to your lips, disregarding the discolored mark that stained your skin beneath your shirt. His chocolate creme eyes closed, his face pushing harder into yours. His hands rested on either arm of the chair to support himself, leaving your hands to work on the buttons for his practice shirt. The kiss grew messier, wet smacks beginning to fill the room. Metal filing cabinets against the wall amplified the sound, making it ring in your ears. His lips dragged down against yours before separating for a moment, smashing together mere seconds later. Tongues swirled together between your cheeks, his tongue dominating yours in the end.

The star player sunk to his knees in front of you, hands slowly running along your body, tracing every curve along the way. His tender touch made your shiver, loving the way his hands felt memorizing every inch of flesh. His touch was careful, smoothing over your body until his hands were resting on your hips, pushing at the bottom of your pencil skirt.

Your wordless choice was clear to him, the man hiking your skirt up your waist, revealing the black panties he loved. His mouth watered, Adam’s Apple bobbing when he thickly swallowed. Dylan’s hands were sweaty pulling down the silky material - not that you cared in the end. Every touch made you sweat in return, goosebumps along your skin from the chills he gave you. Dylan carelessly tossed the pair of discarded silk behind him, the wet panties landing in a heap under your desk.

Before he could meet his mark, a knock on the door was heard. Your eyes snapped open and the subtle rapping against the wood, your foot pressed against Dylan’s chest in haste. The man grunted as he toppled backwards, growling under his breath as he shuffled backwards. His head thunked against the edge of the desk, long limbs tucked into the small space as much as possible. You were quick to slide forward, unable to fix your bunched-up skirt before the door opened.

“Hey boss,” one of the marketing employees under you, Jacob was his name, said as he walked in, eyes glued to the envelopes in his hands. Behind him, through the open door, you could hear the cheers and chatter from the rest of the team, one by one the men walking by on their way to the field. Dylan was definitely late, you noted, and you were praying that this wasn’t an inquiry about his location. Everyone know you were dating so if he was MIA, you were the first person they came to. You weren’t exactly sure if you could lie to them when he was currently under your desk, face between your legs and buried in your dripping wet pussy.

“Hey, Jake,” you managed to squeak out, licking your lips to wet your dry. “What can I do you for?”

“Just came to drop off the mail for you,” he hummed happily. His footsteps sounded heavy as he moved forward, your hand outstretched to take the envelopes in his grasp. “Thought I’d save you a trip. Don’t want to wear you out or anything.”

“Thanks, Jake,” you told him, taking the envelopes. “You didn’t have to-”

Your words ended abruptly, a sharp intake of air hitting your chest. The envelopes slipped from your hold, landing on the desk. One hand slammed to the table, nails scratching at the surface. Your body was heating up - seeing as the man between your legs decided to be devious and bury his face between your thighs, tongue dipping between your folds and into your wet center.

Jake’s forehead scrunched up, eyebrow raising. “You ok?”

“Just fine,” you managed to say, minimizing the stammer and shake in your tone. Your words seemed to prompt Dylan to go harder, pressing a thumb to your swollen clit, harsh circles rubbed to it. His tongue swirled around in your core, muted slurps from his lips on your core making you quake. “Just kicked the table on accident.”

“You did?” he asked. With your nod, he didn’t bother to question further. “Alright. Well, I was wondering if you weren’t too busy tonight…”

You wanted to groan. Not only was your boyfriend busy eating you inside and out, his magical tongue beginning to make your vision blurry, you had your staff talking to you, leaning on the very desk he was hiding under. You wanted to tell him to buzz off so you can finish what was started. The last thing you wanted was to listen to whatever he had to propose.

“...Maybe we can grab a bite to eat or something. You’re always busy when I ask but-”

“Can’t tonight,” you sharply cut, biting your lip. “You know how it is. Beginning of the season means more work to do.”

The entire time you talked, Dylan pushed himself into you further, lapping at every drop you released. He was driving you insane and you were on the brink of telling Jake to leave, desperate for more than kitten licks and thumb rubbing.

“Oh. Right,” he chuckled pitifully. “Maybe next time.”

“Yeah. Next time,” you gasped, the hold on your desk increasing. “Now, if you don’t excuse me, I have to get back to work. Have to open mail, finish papers. You know how it goes.”

“Yeah, right,” Jake murmured, backing out the door. “Well, bye then?”

“Yeah. Bye.”

Once the door clicked shut, you stood abruptly, not caring that your skirt was raised and your ass was exposed. Dylan chuckled, crawling out from under the desk with a noticeable erection in his shorts. One hand palmed at it while the other wiped his glistening chin, juices stuck in his stubble. He was quick to follow after you, circling the desk behind you. With his back to the office door, you were trapped against the desk, his body pressed against yours.

“He was totally hitting on you,” Dylan mused. A soft kiss was placed to your lips, muffling a whine that escaped. “He really needs to learn to back off because you’re all mine.”

“He was not hitting on me,” you scowled. The glint in Dylan’s eyes made you back down. “Fine, he was badly trying to hit on me despite knowing I am happily taken. Just let the kid live, Dyl.”

“Well, I can’t blame him,” Dylan chuckled, pressing a firmer kiss to your lips. “You’re beautiful.”

“And you’re late,” you pointed out, recalling the group of players that had walked by when Jake arrived.

“Well then,” Dylan hummed, grinning. His fingers played with the band on his shorts, tongue poking out to playfully toy with your lips. “We should finish what we started. Show that kid that you are all mine.”

“Except that he isn’t here to watch,” you quipped.

Dylan’s brow rose, smirking at your words. “Would you be into that?” he questioned, pushing down his shorts.

Your mouth parts, but not in the sarcastic response you were about to return with. Dylan lined himself up with your entrance, hiking your legs up so your feet weren’t on the ground. Your bottom sat on the desk, the erect cock of your boyfriend slid deep into your moist pussy. While he stilled, hilt deep inside you, your legs and arms wound around his lean form, hugging him close. Every inch of his muscles - chest, shoulders, biceps and abs - flexed and tensed under your touch, rippling against your fingertips. Veins ran along his bare forearms to his hands, his fingertips digging into your sides.

“Hell no,” you managed to say. “I’d rather it just be you, Dyl.”

“I like the sound of that,” he hummed. “But, I also like when you moan for me in this very office. And at home. And anywhere, honestly. But, for now, you’re going to moan for me here.”

His hips pulled back, a prolonged moan escaping your lips with every inch of his shaft that rubbed along your walls while pulling out. Before the tip could escape your depths, he slammed back into you. The desk rattled, and your body jolted with ecstasy. You moans grew louder the more he moved, repeating the motions he began. Hips clapped together in harmony, skin on skin smacks mixing with your breathless grunts and groans.

Dylan huffed and puffed, eyes closed at the intense feeling he had. Your walls hugged him tightly, the only thing giving him ease to move in and out of you at high speeds being your natural lubrication from your secretion. His hands would tug you forward whenever he slammed back into you, delving deep between your walls until he was hitting the sensitive spots that made you whimper, mewling his name. The tip connected with your sweet spot every time he slid back into you, making your nails dig into his shoulders.

The man carelessly pushed your blouse up, pushing your bra out of the way, so he could dip his head down, latching onto a pert nipple. His thrusts into you didn’t cease, slamming into you relentlessly. The table continued to shake, knocking papers that once teetered on the edge of the desk to the floor. But you weren’t focused on the mess being made. Your head was busy falling back, hands moving to tangle in his hair while he sucked on your breasts. His tongue flicked at the hard bud of your breast. His lips tugged at them with short kisses, pulling at them until the nipple slipped from his mouth with a loud pop.

Too distracted by the man pounding you into oblivion, ecstasy coursing through your veins, neither of you heard the office door open. Dylan was concentrating on his wild thrusts into your tight pussy, cock twitching against your walls with the inevitable orgasm he was approaching quickly, and his lips around your nipples, mumbling incoherent words against you skin that sounded vaguely like he was telling you how much he loved your tits and how he couldn’t wait to paint you in his cum, watching it drip from your depths. You were close, ready to explode around him. Your nails scraped at his scalp, tugging at his hair, chanting his name on repeat.

“O’Brien, aren’t you supposed to be practicing?”

You let out a loud shriek in fright, pushing Dylan away as quick as you could. He left you empty, your legs clenching shut to hide your core from the new presence in the room. Your arms wrapped around yourself, blocking the view of your red blotched chest from prying eyes. Your eyes glistened with fearful tears, your lip quivered with anxiety and face was beet red from embarrassment. Dylan stumbled to pull up his shorts, uncomfortably adjusting his erect cock that was still soaked from your juices.

“H-Hi Mickey,” you gasped, swallowing thickly. Dylan groaned, running a hand through his hair as he, too, turned to face your boss, licking his lips. Mickey’s eyes narrowed on the star player, arms crossed over his chest.

“Hi, boss,” Dylan started with a hint of an awkward chuckle stuck on his tongue.

“Get on the field and practice like you’re supposed to, O’Brien.”

“Yup,” Dylan popped, turning to place a quick kiss to your cheek before sliding by his manager and out the door, his grunts of discomfort heard echoing down the hall from his trained erection that lingered in his pants.

Mickey turned away while you fixed yourself, meekly standing under his gaze when you were done. “I’m sorry,” was your abrupt apology to the older man, your eyes downcast on the carpet.

“I don’t want to know how many times this has happened,” he huffed, seating himself in a chair against the wall. “I hope now is a good time to talk to you, but we really need to have this talk.”

Your eyes narrowed on the man, your brow hurt from wrinkling the way they did. Your fingers curled into your palms tighter, the urge to bite at your fingernails anxiously increasing - a bad habit you seemed to pick up from your boyfriend. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

“You might want to take a seat,” came Mickeys words, the tone somewhat icy and unfamiliar to your ears. It sent shivers up your spine, heart stopping from the unknown discussion you were about to have. “We have a lot to discuss.”

This was not how you thought your day would go.

Your body felt weak while trudging outside. Your feet dragged against the flooring towards the stairs that led to the field. Naturally, you blocked out the greetings the players gave you as they slipped by sweat dripping down their faces from their long afternoon of training. Their sweaty stench hit your nose, but you didn’t grimace. You were used to it since Dylan always smelled of sweat and his cologne after practice. You grew to enjoy the smell after months of being around him.

Your heart was racing as you ascended the steps, lifting an arm to cover your eyes from the blinding sun. Even though it was setting, disappearing over the walls of Citi Field, the light outside still made your eyes water and blink to ease the pain until they could adjust to the bright outside. The last of the players were flitting inside, chatting happily about how their practice had gone.

But your eyes were trained on the man still on the field, gathering the last of the equipment with the new ball boy that was hired in your stead. It meant Dylan had lost today’s bet, you assumed. The Mets boys had begun this tradition of bets during training this season that whoever was the loser had to help gather the equipment after practice. It was partially to help the new ball boy adjust to his job - though you wished they could have given you the same treatment when you started - while it was also a way for the men to have fun while practicing for the upcoming season.

Dylan’s eyes lit up when he saw you approaching, a smile growing on his face. You couldn’t hear what he said, but you saw his mouth open, turning to the ball boy, Todd. Todd eyed the star player for a moment before nodding slowly, almost unsurely. The remnants of the equipment in the boy’s hands were dropped in the bin, bats clattering together and balls thudding against the bottom of the rolling cart.

You were cast a small smile by the ball boy when he passed you, his footsteps picking up as he sprint down towards the locker room. He said nothing on his way, leaving you in the silence with Dylan O’Brien. He dropped his own handful of equipment into the bin before opening his arms, wrapping your body in his embrace. His frame was shirtless, like you had come to see many times when he practiced. His sweaty body clung to yours, the fabric of your top stuck to his muscled chest.

The entire time you were trapped in his embrace, your heart sunk more, remembering the long talk you just had with your boss. Your mind was buzzing with the countless thoughts you had, trying to formulate words to spill like word vomit. Your hands, resting on his defined hips, tightened, nails scratching at his skin along his v-lines. While his nose was buried in your hair, smelling the sweet smell of strawberry, yours was tucked into his chest, his musky odor heavenly on your senses. Your eyes became wet with unshed tears, a few deep breaths uneven from your body.

Dylan must have picked up on your odd behavior and unusual habits because he pushed you away from him slightly, keeping you within arm’s reach, a pout on his lips and concern swirling in his chocolate irises. He stared down at you with love and worry, mouth opening and closing until he finally managed to muster the words he was trying to piece together.

“So, what happened with Mickey?” he asked lowly, running his hands along your arms. He watched you open and close your mouth, trying to spit out the words, but hearing nothing come out. Instead, he changed to topic. “So, today, I went to hit the ball and missed so bad, that I fell in the dirt. I tried to make a dirt angel, but it didn’t come out that well.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his anecdote of the day, hugging him closer. The sound rang in his ears, making him smile while returning the embrace. His nose nuzzled against your cheek before he began to swamp it with kisses, smothering you with his abundant affection in the form of wet smacks to your face. His fingers tickled your sides, earning himself more rambunctious laughter, your body trying to squirm away from him.

You managed to get yourself loose from his grasp, attempt to flee from his loving assault. But years of baseball had done the man wonders, his stamina not only good in bed, as you had come to find while being together, but on the field as well. His strides were longer than yours, and your heels didn’t help much until they were left in the dust - well, stuck in the grass and dirt. You managed to make it out to right field before your attempts to dodge him became futile, bulging arms trapping you against him. Your body twisted against his, your feet managing to tangle together in a heap that sent you crashing to the ground.

Dylan caught himself on the grass, keeping you against his body to cushion the fall. Your back laid against the green petals that were freshly trimmed that morning, Dylan’s body hovering over yours. His eyes stared deep into yours, the chocolate color making you melt like they were a fondue pot. Your arms, once around his neck to keep yourself against him prior to the slip, loosened, hands cupping his scruffy cheeks. Hearing him sigh deeply made your heart race, watching his eyes flutter shut and feeling him sink into your touch like a cat wanting to be pet.

Slowly, you pulled him in for a tender kiss, his response immediate. His head tilted to allow your lips to mesh together better, slow kisses smacking together. They were short, lips connecting and disconnect in bursts that left yours tingling, wanting more. His body rolled itself against yours, speeding up the kisses as he became needier, hungrier and more desperate for your touch. His tongue smoothed against yours, requesting permission to slip between your cheeks despite his unusual bravado to take control and push past your lips without asking.

You loved the way his lips felt against yours. You loved the way his lips dragged against yours when he pulled away after tracing the inner linings of your cheeks with his tongue. You loved how his body pressed flesh against yours, your bodies matching together like two pieces of a puzzle that were meant to be together. You loved this man with everything you had, even though he seemed to have grown softer over the year you were by his side. Were you lying if you said you missed his dominating, cocky side? Absolutely. You loved these romantic moments with him, but sometimes, you just wanted to see that smirk that made you fall for him in the first place, hearing his husky voice utter vulgar things to you.

He pulled away, chuckling at the short whine you released. He allowed a hand to run through your hair, a soft kiss left to your nose before he rolled off of you, plopping onto the grass by your side. His hand took yours, fingers laced together and giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. Your eyes stared at the sky - seeing the mixture of blue, pink and orange from the setting sun amongst wisps of white clouds - before turning to face him. He was already staring at the side of your face, and you could see the concern on his features.

He licked his dry lips once, wetting them before speaking. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled. Dylan’s frown deepened, inching closer to you.

“What’s on your mind, babe?”

You bit at your lip, hard enough that you thought you’d break skin. You didn’t know how to tell him - you didn’t have the heart for it. But, you knew you needed to. “They’re thinking about a transfer.”

“What?”

Your heart broke more at his confusion, the subtle crack in his voice squeezing at your chest. “I-I…” you began before swallowing and continuing. “They’re thinking of transferring one of us to the Yankees.”

“What?” Dylan burst, angrier this time. Pushing himself up on is elbow, he looked down at you, seething with rage. “They can’t do that! Why would they do that?”

“Dylan, calm down,” you pleaded. “Mickey said that… he said that because of your poor performance over the last few months and through spring training, he’s beginning to think our relationship is having a negative effect on the team. He thinks that because we work together, it’s becoming a hinderance. Really, we shouldn’t be together since it’s a conflict of interest, but he allowed it because of how hard we work. But, you haven’t been the best player lately, Dyl. You haven’t been the star hitter we know you are. You can barely make it to first base sometimes-”

“You can’t say that in bed.”

“This is what he’s getting at,” you huffed. “You know I love you, but they’re serious. Mickey is not happy with your performance and his answer is to remove one of us from the equation. They don’t know who it will be yet because he has a meeting next week to discuss everything, but one of us will be leaving the Mets.”

“But,” he murmured, shaking his head to hide any tears. “This is both of our dreams. They can’t just… they can’t just move one of us when we’ve worked so hard to be here.”

“They can, Dyl,” you sighed. “And they will.”

Dylan sighed, collapsing back on the grass. You could sense his unhappiness, making you frown sadly. “Well,” he hummed, ducking his arm behind his head, resting on his forearm. “We will figure it out, I guess.”

“I guess so.”

It fell silent for a second before Dylan spoke up again. “I’m sorry this happened to you. I didn’t think something like this would happen to us. I know how much working for the Mets means to you. It means so much to me too. I’ve always dreamt of being able to play for this team. I never thought me liking a girl would get me transferred.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you told him, glancing at him.

“It’s pretty much my fault for not being at my best.”

“Yeah,” you admitted, Dylan sneering at your honesty. “You haven’t been yourself for weeks, Dyl. What’s up with that?”

The man was quiet, staring up at the darkening sky, sun fading in the distance. “Just distracted, I guess. I haven’t been here mentally.”

“Well, get it together, man!” you teased, shoving him. Dylan grumbled under his breath, making you giggle softly. “You know, you’ve changed a lot over the past year.”

“What?” he questioned, looking at you. “What do you mean? I have not changed. I am still the same Dylan!”

“Mmm,” you hummed, lips pursed tightly. “You’re different to me.”

“Fine,” Dylan huffed jokingly, rolling onto his stomach and laying his head to stare at the side of your face. “Indulge me, babe. How am I different?”

“Well, you’re sweet now,” you told him. You continued, putting more emphasis on your words when you spotted his sour face. “Remember this, Dyl. When I first met you, and the first years I worked for the Mets, you were a cocky, self-righteous fuckboy that had a different girl hanging off your arm every other day. You were degrading and you were rude and I flat out hated your guts.”

“Such loving words,” he joked.

“I’m serious!” you exclaimed in return. “I couldn’t stand working here because you made my life miserable. But then, you changed and I couldn’t stop falling in love with you because you were such a softie under that rough exterior. You were a loving, caring man under the fucks and shits you strung together like it was nothing. You proved you were more than just a fuckboy.”

“Well, ain’t that just the sweetest.”

“But,” you started, stopping short.

“But, what?”

“Sometimes,” you mused, biting at your lip before turning to stare into his eyes. “Sometimes, I guess that I miss that more cocky man. That egotistical man that knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to take it.”

You could see his brown orbs widen, a spark of interest in your revelation igniting in his dark eyes. “Really?” he wondered, shifting closer until your lips were nearly upon each other. “Is that so, babe?”

“Yeah,” you breathed shortly, eyes already beginning to close. You were ready to feel his lips against yours. “You know I love you and what you do, but there’s just something about the degrading side of you - the cocky, dirtier side of you - that I miss seeing. It’s just kind of sexy to think about you dominating like that.”

“Well,” he quipped, smirking against your lips. “If it helps you out, we can remind you of those times if you want. If you want to see my egotistical side again, we can make that happen. If you want me to be that fuckboy I was before I got with the most beautiful girl in the world, I will gladly do it for you. I will show you a wonderful time, baby, if you’ll let me.”

“Oh, really?” you laughed against his lips. “When is that going to happen?”

“Well…”

The locker room was empty by the time you got there. Everyone had left, leaving you to reenact the first time you had ever done anything with Dylan from over a year ago. The only difference was this time, you were more than willing to be there with him, the water cascading over your bodies while your back was pushed against the cold wall, heated lips placed to yours. Your clothes stuck to your body, the blouse you wore turning see-through while the heated water rained over your bodies. Your body burned from the touch of his hands squeezing at your thighs, his chest pressed to yours while his lips ravenously assaulted you.

He only broke the steamy kiss less than a handful of times. The first was the peel his shirt off his body, the clue cotton with the Mets logo clinging to his biceps and pecs being lifted over his wet with a light suctioning sound, wetly plopping to the side. The second was the drop your skirt, your blouse left unbuttoned to show off your bra. He didn’t have to disconnect from your lips to push your blouse from your shoulders, his focus more on the way his tongue swirled between your cheeks, tangling with yours, than with the removal of your shirt. The third was so he could remove your bra, focusing his mouth on your chest instead of your face.

Your head fell back at the feeling, one hand being used to wipe water droplets from your face while the other tangled in the wet chocolate locks that clung to Dylan’s forehead. Your chest heaved with labored breaths, the hot shower making it harder to catch your breath. It was only amplified by the feeling of euphoria in your heart, the wet smack of lips to your breast making you writhe. Plump pink lips wrapped themselves around each perky nipple, making they harder when he tugged at them nonstop. A large, veiny hand cupped the opposing mound in the palm, fondling it so it didn’t feel neglected. The red blotches that were peppered to your chest earlier multiplied, growing darker than you’re used to.

“God, I just love your tits,” he murmured against your skin, giving your breast a squeeze. You heard him kiss them over and over, your nails curling into his scalp at the pleasure. “I love the way you squirm when I suck on them. Do you like when I suck on them, baby?”

“Yes,” was all you could muster weakly.

“You like when I play with your nipples, don’t you?” he rasped, flicking his tongue against the hard peak to elicit a filthy moan from your throat. “God, you’re such a slut for this. You love when I suck on your nipples. You love when I tug at them with my fingers. Only me, though, baby. Only I can make you feel like this.”

His hand squeezed your breast again, harder this time. “These tits are mine. These nipples are mine. Only I can suck on them until they are so hard, you will show through your bra. Only I can pinch them, squeeze them, and ravage them with my mouth.” He gave them a soft slap, making you yelp in pleasure and pain. “You hear me, baby? All. Mine.”

“All yours,” you repeated.

“Just like,” he began, dropping his hand from your chest to your core. Bypassing your panties with ease, two fingers smoothed themselves over your soaked entrance, your head pushing back further into the wall. “This pretty little cunt is all mine.”

“All yours,” you repeated louder.

Dylan’s lips curled upright, moving back to place his lips on yours. The two fingers at your pussy poked their way inside of you, your mewls muffled and lost to the fierce kiss he was giving you. The slender digits slid in and out of you slowly, taunting you and teasing you, spreading apart while pulling at and thrusting back in when conjoined. Your body quivered at his touch, a knot beginning to coil inside of you.

“Dyl,” you pleaded against his lips when he pulled back for a burst of air. “Please.”

“Please what?” he asked, playfulness laced on his tone.

“Please,” you let out with a whine. “Please me.”

“I think I can do that. But first,” he quipped, pulling his fingers from inside you, tugging at the band of your panties. “These need to go.”

The discard of your panties was agonizing. The man sunk to his knees, dragging them slowly down your legs, leaving kisses to your hips and thighs along the way. Purposefully avoiding your center left you whimpering for more, tugging at his hair in a futile attempt to get him to please you. His shorts were discarded as soon as he stood up, his arm snaking around your waist - his erect cock trapped between your stomachs.

His hand rested on your ass, giving it a slap that made you jolt. “You want a piece of me, babe?” he hummed huskily, licking his lips. His eyes narrowed, peering down at you as you nodded frantically. “Then, turn around, hands on the wall, and stick that round little ass out for me.”

Doing as he said, you felt the sting of the water pelting at your back, resting your forehead against to cool wall. Your fingers curled, palms pressed flat to the tile. Your skin crawled at the subtle touch of his fingers caressing your backside, the light graze of his fingertips traveling down your spine to your ass. A jolt ran through your body when a loud smack was place to your behind, the cheek cupped in the center of his hand.

“This ass is mine,” he rasped, licking his lips. His free hand casually stroked his elongated length, smearing precum over the tip before the shower washed it away. He could feel it pulsating between his fingers, eager to feel your tight walls clasping around him as he bucked into you wildly, slamming you into the wall while you screamed for him.

You couldn’t help but smile, glancing back at him over your shoulder. Dylan felt a groan catch in his throat at the way your eyes shadowed dangerously, the curl of your swollen lips and wet hair that clung to your face making you look attractively appetizing. Even though he had your cheek cupped in his grasp, you shook your backside from side to side, pushing back to feel his erect cock pressed to your skin. “All yours.”

“That’s right,” he breathed, leaning forward so the words were directed into the shell of your ear, ringing against your ear drum. His chest was against your back, his cock sliding between your thighs and between your folds with the help of the water. “All. Mine.”

It wasn’t slow at the start. When he decided to dominate you, he did just that. One single thrust was all it took for him to side inside you - filling you to the brim, stretching your walls to accommodate his large size. A veiny hand pressed to your lower stomach to keep you close and still, his hips pulling back and ramming swiftly back into your tight core.

The motions continued just like that. Pull back, slam into you. The sound of wet, clapping skin from his hips against your ass resonated through the foggy air, the steam from the shower clouding your forms in the small stall. You were bent just the right amount that gave the best angle for him to please you at, the tip of his cock finding the sweetest spots in your pussy that made your stomach tighten more than before. His balls smacked your folds with every thrust, the man hammering into you, his cock pistoning its way in and out of you like a machine in overdrive.

His hand slid through your hair, fingers weaving through the strands, before giving it a sharp tug back. Your moans were being muffled by your hands, your head buried away to the heat and euphoria. You were having a hard time concentrating: the heat making your mind fuzzy, his thrusts sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body, adrenaline from the situation coursing through your blood. Yet, Dylan wanted to hear every moan you were letting out, his name on constant repeat.

“That’s right,” were the husky words you could make out through muffled hearing, the shower pelting against the ground louder than you were used to. That mixed with the ever-growing noise of skin on skin was all you could make out. Even if he was talking almost directly in your ear, you struggled to make out what he said. “Moan my name, baby. I love hearing you scream my name like the slut you are.”

“I-” you choked out, biting back a loud mewl. “I’m only a slut for you, Dyl.”

“Mmm?” he hummed through tight lips. “Only a slut for me? Are you a slut for my cock?”

“Yes,” you gasped.

“You like when I do this?” he continued, ramming into you harder than before, thrusting deep up into your core. Your scream couldn’t be silenced, your body ready to collapse from your trembling legs. If it hadn’t been for Dylan holding you upright, you would be on the floor, quivering from bliss. “That’s right. Scream for me. You love when I pound your tight little pussy with my cock. You love when I fuck you up, don’t you? You’re so dirty, baby. Filthy, dirty little suck for my cock.”

His hand pushed through you wet locks, carefully sliding down the front of your face. Your eyes drifted closed at his semi-soft touch. His palms were calloused from wielding a bat for as long as he had, but, against your wet skin, was a welcoming feeling. The tips of his fingers danced over your partially separated lips, allowing you to place soft kisses to them. You managed to draw them into your mouth, sucking on them briefly, before they descended further south, ending at your neck.

A sharp breath of air left your lips, a squeeze of his hand on your throat slightly restricting your airway. Your mind went completely blank, the hold on your neck cutting off one of your senses increasing the feeling of his manic thrusts into you. Your eyes practically rolled back in your head, your body shaking in his grasp. Your stomach was tight, clenching uncontrollably.

“You’re so sexy,” he whispered into your ear, ramming into you fiercely. The hand on your stomach slid up to your bouncing breasts, giving them a squeeze that mirrored your neck. He tilted his head to watch them sway with his motions, eyeing your face occasionally. “I love the way you look when I’m fucking you like this. If I could, I would film this and get off to this image every time I need to when you aren’t around to help me. I can’t get enough of your sweet body.”

He was getting you close. He could sense it. And much to your dismay, he stopped, pulling out and leaving you dripping and empty. Both hands rested on your chest, juggling your breasts, listening to you whimper pathetically for more.

And when he was satisfied with your noises, he spun you around, one leg lifted with the bend of your knee on his forearm. His other hand, not pressed to the wall, held your arms above your head, his lips finding home on yours. Your exasperated moan was lost to his plush pink lips, swelled from your reckless behavior, when he slid back into you. You back slid against the wall every time he pushed back into you, his speed declined but the pleasure still pronounced. Every thrust was exact and calculated, drawing out every ounce of pleasure he could.

He kept going until you were on the verge of collapse. Your air supply was gone from countless kisses and exhaustive heat. You stomach was so tight, it felt like your insides were going to fall out soon, exploding from the strain. Your limbs ached from clenching, yet you felt the familiar sense of euphoria tingling inside. His lips lingered over yours, sharing the air with you. The touch of his forehead against yours as he pushed into you sloppily made you weak, the contact comforting.

The world seemed to black out when you came, juices spilling out around him, coating his length in your arousal. Your walls hugged him as tight as possible, clinging to him like your life depended on it. Your nails curled into yourself, only separating when his fingers slid through him, interlocking your hands in a firm hold. His body continued to buck into you until he, too, was cumming. His seed shot out in spurts, strings of white filling your core and mixing with your own juices. Your tight walls milked him for all he had, the man slowing his stride until your highs were depleted.

He didn’t pull out as your bodies relaxed. Your leg was dropped, your toes hitting the wet ground, curling into the droplets that encircled your feet. Your arms were released, draped against his shoulders. Your nails scraped at his back, soft red marks left on his skin. They ended up on his neck, playing with the ends of his hair that stuck to the nape of his neck. Dylan turned off the water, droplets dripping from the tips of his chocolate locks to the ground.

Together, you stayed just like that - locked in each other’s embrace, hugging the other tightly. Dylan’s lips touched your forehead, a hand weaving through the hair on the back of your head as he held you. His nose flared out with heavy breaths, his eyelashes fluttering as he fought back tears. Your body shook slightly in his arms, tears of your own beginning to fall. With the moment over, his arms safely around you in a comforting way, the realization was hitting you both.

The dream was over for one of you.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured under his breath. “We’ll figure something out.”

“I know,” you mumbled, leaning back enough to look up at him. His thumb ran across your face, wiping away a stray tear. “Just promise me you won’t make a big ordeal about this. No problems with all of this.”

“I won’t make a scene,” he promised, hugging you close.

Yet, the man couldn’t help but think one thing.

I will figure out why this is happening. And I will fix this for you.

A knock wrapped at Mickey Callaway’s door the following afternoon. The manager looked up from his papers, uttering a low ‘come in’ for the unknown being on the other side. To his surprise, his star player - who seemed to be at his worst since joining the team - walked through the door. His hands were stuffed in his short’s pockets, blue training shirt clinging to his torso. His blue Mets hat was pulled low over his hair, his eyes downcast to the floor.

“Dylan,” Mickey began, placing his pen down. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be preparing the game soon?”

“Yeah, I know,” Dylan uttered slowly. When he glanced up, Mickey was surprised to see the dullness in his eyes, slight red rings around the edges. The dark constellation of marks along his cheeks seemed darker than normal against his pale cheeks. The man shuffled in his step, shifting his weight between feet. “I just had a question for you.”

“Alright,” Mickey hummed, gesturing to the chair across from him. He watched the baseball star take a seat cautiously, sitting on the edge of his seat. “What’s wrong, Dylan? You don’t look that great.”

“I don’t feel great, honestly,” he admitted to his boss. “I didn’t get much sleep last night. It was a rough night.”

“Are you sure you will be ok to play this week? We can switch if needed.”

“No, no,” Dylan quickly denied with the shake of his head. “It’s our home game opener. I want to play. I’m ok to play. I will feel better before the game, I promise. But, I just had to get something off my chest first.”

Mickey’s brow cocked at the statement, nodding at the younger man. “Alright. Go ahead.”

“Why are you doing this?” Dylan asked, voice cracking slightly. Mickey eyed him, waiting for him to continue. “I know my performance hasn’t been great these last few months, but I don’t get why you need to transfer one of us.”

Mickey’s lips pursed, leaning forward on his desk to stare down the athlete. “It’s my job to keep this team together, Dylan. If you aren’t performing at your best, I need to fix that. And from what I can tell, the distraction is your relationship. I was lenient and let you guys work together when I really shouldn’t have because I know you both are amazing at what you do. But, when it comes down to it and you can’t do what you need to, I have to fix it.”

His words were harsh, Dylan wincing slightly at what he said. His hands clasped together in his lap, forming a tight ball. “Please,” he let out, biting his lip. “There has to be something that we can do - that I can do - to fix this.”

“Dylan…”

“Please, Mickey,” he pleaded. “You don’t understand how much this means to both of us. I’ve dreamt of playing for the Mets my entire life. I couldn’t bear playing for another team. And Y/N… she worked so hard to be here. She put up with my lying, cheating ass for so long, dealing with the strain and torture I caused her, because she wanted to work for the Mets that bad. It would break both of us to tear either one of us from this job. So please, there has to be something that I can do to save us both.

“And, if there isn’t, don’t take it out on her. She doesn’t deserve it. It was my fuck up that caused this. I’m the one not performing well enough. I’m the one that pushes her to do the things we do when I know we shouldn’t. She is more amazing at this than I am. She is the best manager you will have on your team and if it comes down to it, transfer me, not Y/N. I couldn’t bear to break her heart.”

Mickey listened to Dylan’s pleas. He watched the man break down before him. It broke his heart to see the young man so vulnerable, his hard shell cracking ever so slightly. Dylan was a hard person to read, giving off a persona of a badass to everyone he met. Yet, here he was, begging for his girlfriend’s job over his own, his heart worn on his sleeve in that moment.

“Dylan,” Mickey started, lifting his own hat off his head to run his fingers through his hair. “There isn’t anything I can do at the moment-”

“Mickey, please,” Dylan choked slightly. “There has to be something.”

Mickey sighed. “The only thing that can potentially stop this is if you improve. Show me that I was wrong in assuming that your relationship with Y/N is affecting how you play. Whatever is on your mind all the time, get if off your chest finally and stop waiting for it. Just do it. Be the Dylan that we know and love. Because if you can’t be him, then why did Y/N fall for you?”

Dylan sat silently for a moment, processing his words. “Get it off my chest? Be myself?” he chuckled slightly.

“Yup,” Mickey hummed. “You have something weighing you down. Get rid of that and show me that you can be the man I recruited. You are our best player for a reason, Dylan. So, be that guy. I know you can do it. Make it count and I assure you everything will work out.”

Dylan’s hands tightened before nodding, standing from his seat. “Alright. If I can show you that we are fit to be here, that us working together isn’t a hassle, you’ll keep us?”

“Of course,” Mickey confirmed. “Prove me wrong.”

“Alright. Thank you for the help, sir.”

“No problem, Dylan,” he said, watching the young man leave. Mickey Callaway leaned back in his seat, a smile on his face. “I hope your things work out for you in the end.”

Opening day at Citi Field. It was bittersweet for you. You spun around in your seat, checking your phone for the hundredth time in days. Every text had been read, but not responded to. Phone calls were ignored. You didn’t know why, but Dylan had been ignoring you since the night in the locker room shower.

Your heart was slightly broken at the fact that your own boyfriend wouldn’t answer you when you tried to call him. He wouldn’t be home when you went by his house, so you opted to stay at your tiny apartment that felt cold without him there. It didn’t feel like home as you laid in bed, the spot beside you void of warmth.

You felt slightly used, thinking that maybe things were dissipating quicker than you’d like after the talk of someone’s transfer. One last rendezvous in the shower and he was done with you. You prayed you were wrong, but there was nothing else you could think of that would explain his odd behavior.

And as you sat in your office, shorts hugging your hips, Mets shirt buttoned up and neatly tucked into your shorts, and a Mets hat that matched your boyfriend’s, you wondered if you should even be attending the game. The season opener at your home stadium - if it was even going to be home soon. You wanted to support your team - support your man - but you wondered if it would be better for you to go home and drown yourself in some Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.

Glancing at the clock, you sighed, daring to make your way up to the field. The game would be starting soon, the opening pitch thrown in a matter of minutes. Your body felt heavy standing from your seat, checking yourself in the mirror before you would attempt to go out. You didn’t want to ruin your makeup from potential tears.

A knock on your door was curious. They didn’t wait for the ok to come in before the door opened, a familiar man making your heart race in your doorway. His uniform was pristine and clean - bound to get dirty soon. He held his glove in his hand, playing with it. His chest rose and fell with uneasy breaths, like he was afraid to confront you after ignoring your presence for days. He avoided eye contact with you, glancing around the room and diverting his gaze whenever he set his sights on your form across the room. It was not like him at all, and that scared you.

Part of you hoped that he would just be himself - that he would rush forward, kiss you like you were his source of living. You wanted him to feel your body up, his hands moving nonstop against your body, memorizing every inch of you. You wanted him to do anything, honestly. You just wanted to be touched, to be held, to be loved. You wanted the man you fell for back in your arms, and so far, he seemed distant.

You were terrified of what was about to happen.

His mouth opened and closed, his Adam’s Apple bobbing when he swallowed the lump in his throat. His knuckles were turning white from how hard he held his glove. Finally, his quiet voice came through. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you responded, unsure of yourself.

“I um…” he cracked, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to talk to you the last few days. I’ve been a bit busy.”

Your heart sank in your chest, splashing in a pit of stomach acid. That didn’t sound good to you and your mind assumed the worst. Was he seeing someone else? Was he through with you? Was he ready to move on because one of you were going to lose your dream job? What had you done wrong to make this happen?

“I can’t explain right now, but if you’ll give me a chance, I will explain soon. You deserve to know what I’ve been doing and why I’ve been kind of absent the last few days.” He paused, rubbing the scruffed jaw you adored. “I wanted to stop by to see if you were going to be watching me play today. It’s the season opener after all and I was hoping… you’d still be here to watch. I think you’ll enjoy the game.”

You were shocked that he was asking for such a thing. It brought back memories of him asking for a chance before you began dating. As much as you wanted to tell him no, not wanting to be hurt, you bit the bullet, nodding slowly. The first time he asked for this, he showed that he was true to his word. Now, you were going to do the same - trust in his word; trust in him.

“Yeah. I’ll be there.”

It was the first time since the other night you had seen him smile. It was small and brief, but it made the butterflies inside you flutter. “Great. I’m glad,” he murmured, backing towards the door. “I should go get ready. The game is about to begin. And please, don’t be late. I want you to be there for the opening pitch because I think it’ll be one to remember.”

Your forehead scrunched in confusion, unable to question him further. He turned on his heel and ran, the door left ajar on his way out. You could hear the chatter of the crowd streaming through the hallways, the stadium filling to capacity for the first game. The fans were there to support your team, and you hoped that they were in for a good game. Knowing that Dylan wasn’t at his peak, you were worried your team would fail, and you would disappoint them.

With a deep sigh, you followed in the steps of your boyfriend, knowing it was time. Your steps seemed to go in slow motion, headed for the steps to the field, directly by the Mets dugout. The sun was still shining overhead, lighting up the field, making your eyes sparkle. Seeing the stands full of people in bright blues and oranges, your heart was alight. The players were preparing for a memorable game. In all your years, it never ceased to amaze you being there.

The music that was playing to pass the time died down, the announcers in the booth announcing that the opening pitch was about to take place. You leaned against the side of the dugout, staying hidden in the shade, to watch the start of the season. Dylan’s strides were long, and his look was nearly opposite compared to how he looked in your office. He was smiling brightly, waving at the crowd as he trotted to the mound, ball and glove in hand.

What you didn’t see was the mic that was hidden in his glove until he stood on the pitcher’s mound, placing the glove and ball to the side to favor the device. “Hey everyone! Long time no see!”

The crowd cheered for him, making you laugh at their delight.

“Is everyone ready for a wonderful season to the Mets?” He held the mic out, listening to the screams of everyone. “That’s good to hear. Well, before we get things started, I wanted to do something a bit special for one of our very, very important team members for the Mets.”

Your brow furrowed, straightening up slightly. You watched him grin, glancing around until he spotted your figure in the distance. He seemed to smile wider, making you wonder.

“A long, long time ago, we had a ball girl that was an amazing addition to the team. She was a beautiful woman, but the ball girl gig just wasn’t for her. She was too smart, too talented, and too overqualified to be chasing around my balls.” The crowd snickered at his words, making you hide your face from embarrassment. “Ok, ok. Bad choice of words. But, it’s true. She had a college degree and everything. And she was lucky enough to become one of our managers. And I was lucky enough to be given a chance to call her my girlfriend on this very mound.

“So, I want to call her out here now because I have a very important thing to talk to her about. I owe her an explanation because I haven’t talked to her in days. I haven’t been the best boyfriend and now, I want to tell her why. So, Y/N,” he hummed, curling his finger your way. “If you’ll please join me on the mound.”

“Not again,” you huffed to yourself, taking a deep breath before stepping away from your spot. Dylan was practically bouncing as you made your way forward, the crowd cheering with every step you took. When you were near, his hand extended to you, hoping you would take it in return. When you did, you could feel how clammy his hands were, his aura exuding nervousness.

“Well, about a year ago, I stood up here, asking this very beautiful woman to give me a chance to be her boyfriend and she has made me the happiest man in the world. She is amazing at everything she does, and I couldn’t be more proud that she has achieved everything she has.” He paused, licking his lips. His eyes met yours, the color bright and vibrant. “I have to say that I love this woman with all my heart.”

“Dylan…”

“And I’m probably going to get hit for doing something like this again, but this has been on my mind for weeks now,” he chuckled, digging his hand in his pocket as he did. “I haven’t been able to focus on practice. I haven't been able to focus on playing. I haven’t been at my best because I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you to be mine for the rest of my life. I didn’t know how to ask. I didn’t know what kind of ring. I was stuck. And it affected my work. And for that, I apologize because it could have hurt you too. I didn’t see you, didn’t talk to you, so I could get myself ready for this. I needed it to be perfect. So, please, Y.N.”

Slowly, he got down on one knee, holding a small, black box in his palm. Inside sat a sing, a single diamond in the middle of the band that glowed in the sun. He cleared his throat once more before speaking up. “Y/N L/N, you are the love of my life and I couldn’t be happier that you gave me that chance. I don’t regret asking you out. I don’t regret putting your name out to be the new manager. You were once my ball girl, then you were my manager girl. But, now, I want you to be my girl, forever, if you’ll have me. Y/N, will you marry me?”

You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You felt like you couldn’t talk. The attempt to keep your makeup from running was ruined when happy tears slid down your cheeks. You took his hand, closing it around the mic with him. Pulling him up, you held the mic closer to your lips, sniffles echoing through the stadium.

“Yes, Dylan. I will marry you,” you managed to let out. “But, only on one condition.”

His head tilted to the side. “Oh? And what’s that?”

You grinned widely, taking the mic fully from his hand. You glanced around the stadium, listening to people cheer and holler. “You have to go out there and win this game!” you screamed loudly, the fans jumping to their feet, applauding in agreement. Turning back to Dylan, you giggled, staring into his eyes. “What do you say, O’Brien?”

Dylan smirked at your words, snapping the box closed. He took the mic from you, holding it to his lips. “Easy.”

You were surprised when Jacob DeGrom came out to make the pitch instead, Dylan pulling you back to the dugout. You joined the rest of the team, receiving congratulations on the way. Even Mickey gave you a thumbs up, making you question your boss mentally. Dylan held your hand tightly, turning to face you when you were in a corner alone. He held out the ring box towards you, smiling happily.

“Keep this safe for me, will you? That way when we win, I can properly put that ring on your finger.”

“I will keep it safe,” you hummed, taking the box. As soon as you did, you pushed up on your toes, connecting your lips to his. Dylan seemed to melt into you, your hand resting on his cheek, his stubble scratching at your skin. He pulled you against him, kissing your furiously. Pulling apart, your lips brushed his as you spoke. “I love you, Dyl.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

“Kick some butt out there.”

“Always.”

With that, he was on the field leaving you to stand with Mickey, watching the game begin. Mickey cast you a smile, wrapping his arm around you in a fatherly way. “Did you have something to do with this?” you inquired, leaning on the rail, but glancing up at the man.

“Maybe,” he chuckled. “We’ll talk about this later. After the game, I need you and Dylan to come by my office. Alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

Nothing was more fulfilling than watching the crowd in the stands jumping to their feet, fists pumping as the final inning closed, Mets obliterating the Giants - lead by Dylan O’Brien himself. The team ran to their star player as he threw the last pitch, the batter striking out for the last time. There was no need for the Mets to play the bottom of the ninth - they had won. The men gathered on the pitcher’s mound, arms wrapped around their star that had regained his momentum during the game. You laughed at their enthusiasm, clapping your hands happily at the victory for your team.

As the guys broke apart, Dylan’s eyes fell on yours, smiling widely. You saw his mouth open, excusing himself from the others you assumed seeing as he ducked under their arms, rushing in your direction. You joined him on the grass, squealing when his arms wrapped themselves around your waist, lifting you from the ground to spin you in circles. Your laughs grew, wrapping your own arms around his neck, hugging him tight. Your foreheads pressed against one another, noses brushing lightly to each other.

“I won for you, baby,” he whispered, licking his lips slowly. His hot breath hit your face, fanning against your cheeks. Your face hurt from how much you were grinning, weaving your digits through his wet with sweat hair without a care.

“You did,” you murmured back.

“So, that means that you are mine, right? Forever?”

You giggled, nodding against him. “I was yours regardless if you won or not, Dyl. Because I love you so much. Winning is just an added bonus.”

“So, I won for nothing then?”

“Naw. I like when my team wins.”

“Good. Because it’s going to stay that way.” He placed you on your feet for a moment, tugging you closer by the belt loops, biting his lip. “Did you do what I asked? Did you keep it safe?”

“Of course,” you laughed, dropping your arms to pull the small box from your pocket. “Kept it on me at all times. You know I’d never let you down.”

“This is true. You never have let me down, even when I was a prick to you for years,” he laughed, taking the box. His fingers trembled while pulling out the ring. You could feel him shaking while taking your hand, glancing at your face with a grin. “And now, I’m glad I can call you my own for the rest of my life.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? A deal is a deal, playboy.”

“Hey! I gave that up because I feel for you!” he chuckled, sliding the ring on your finger. His arms circled your body again, both of you admiring the sparkling gem that adorned your right hand. “But, I’m glad I did. It was, and always will be, worth it for you. I love you so much, Y/N. My manager girl.”

“I love you too, Dylan. My baseball star.”

“Just kiss already!” the rest of the team yelled. The remainder of the crowd hooted and hollered in agreement, making the pair of you share a laugh, chortling at their actions.

He lifted you off the ground once more, locking eyes with you. His orbs sparkled with wonder, glistening in the stadium lights. Dylan leaned up in compliance, placing his lips on yours. You would have been crazy if you didn’t return it, feeling the love that the man felt tingling to them, coursing through your veins to the rest of your body. His lips were soft, as always, turning you to jelly in his hold. The screaming around you disappeared, the only thing mattering being yourself and the man you loved sharing a moment that you would never forget.

Breaking the kiss with a popping smack, your feet found the grass once more, Dylan’s arms never leaving your sides. The man peppered you with a few more kisses, snuggling into your cheek.

“Dyl,” you laughed, hearing him grunt in response. “Mickey wanted to speak to us in his office after the game.”

“He did?” Dylan asked, sound muffled in your neck.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, kissing the side of his head. “You need to go shower and change so we can go see him.”

“Fine,” he whined under his breath, backing away. A smirk grew on his face, hands gripping your hips tighter. His eyebrows wiggled suggestively as he asked, “You want to join me?”

“Do you want the others to see me naked? Do you want the others to see you with an erection? Do you really want them watching you fuck me silly because we know you can’t keep it chill?”

Dylan’s face fell at your deadpanned reaction, pursing his lips. “Damn, you’re right,” he mumbled. “I don’t want them seeing you naked. I don’t care if they watch us fuck because they can be jealous. But baby, you’re mine.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, smacking his chest. “Shower. Now. I will meet you there.”

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled, kissing you before running off.

You took your time heading to Mickey’s office, knocking on the door when you arrived. The quiet ‘come in’ made your heart race, one deep breath leaving your chest before opening the door. Mickey gave an almost reassuring smile when he saw you in his doorway, nodding at one of the chairs across from him.

“Welcome, Y/N,” he greeted. You nodded in returned, sitting in the plush chair. “One hell of a game, eh?”

“Yeah. Glad we were able to win. We’re off to a great start this season.”

“That’s true,” he quipped, leaning back. “Hopefully it’ll stay that way.”

“What are you up to?” you asked, biting at your lip. “I’m so confused.”

“Just wait. I’ll explain once Dylan gets here.”

“He should be here soon. He just had to go shower and change,” you told the man who nodded in return.

The silence was agonizing and uncomfortable, your foot resorting to tapping to keep yourself preoccupied. The tick of the clock made your brain buzz. Your hands curled together in your lap, eyes directed to the ground to avoid unwanted eye contact with the man across the desk. Thoughts of what could be happening - what your future held - raced through your mind, your body sweating from the unknown. The uncertainty was killing you.

A swift rap on the door made your head shoot up, turning in your seat to watch Dylan walk through the door. His jeans hugged his waist, a plain black shirt clinging to his torso. His hair was still damp, sticking up in random directions. On his feet sat his normal, worn out Adidas you knew he adored. His lips curled in an awkward smile, his speckled cheeks crinkling together. The door shut behind him, your eyes following the baseball player while he approached and took his seat.

“Hey Dylan,” Mickey greeted. “Great game today.”

“Thanks,” came Dylan’s rather meek reply. “What’s this about, Mickey?”

“Right, right. I’m sure you both are wondering what is going on considering the whole transfer talk,” Mickey began. You nodded slowly, biting your lip. Dylan remained silent, kicking one leg over his knee as he sunk into his seat. “How do I explain this? I wasn’t lying about the potential for one of you to transfer. I know how much you both love being part of this team and how much it means to you, and normally, your relationship doesn’t get in the way of your work.

“But, Dylan - you haven’t been your best. You couldn’t focus on what you were doing and the ruling was that it was because of your relationship. And I knew it was because of this.”

“Because of… this?” you asked.

“Dylan’s proposal,” Mickey stated. “He had mentioned that he wanted to propose to you and wanted to make sure it would be alright because of your position here.”

You glanced at Dylan, who was avoiding your gaze by biting at his fingers.

“What I didn’t expect was for him to ponder it the way he did. He let it distract him. Dylan can disagree if I’m wrong.” The man beside you shook his head wordlessly. “I didn’t want to lose either of you so, we came up with the idea to transfer one of you because I knew it would kick his ass in gear to finally pop the question.”

“So, you played us,” Dylan chuckled dryly.

“Kind of,” Mickey laughed. “You guys are good for each other and you are good for this team. So, I did what I had to so you guys are happy. I know it hurt you to think that you’d have to leave, but I did what I thought was best for you. And look what happened. It’s about time you guys got hitched.”

Your face flushed, shaking your head. “That’s cruel, boss.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.”

“So, what does this mean?” Dylan asked, glancing between you and Mickey. “What’s going to happen to us?”

Mickey chuckled under his breath, leaning on his desk. “Neither of you are being transferred. I will talk to the other managers and let them know what the decision is. You are too great of assets to this team to let someone else have you. I wouldn’t want to see you putting your skills to work with someone who isn’t us. And I know this means everything to you guys,” Mickey smiled. “It would be a pleasure to keep that dream alive in you.”

“Thank you, Mickey,” you laughed, holding back grateful tears.

“Yeah,” Dylan choked, clearing his throat. “Thanks, Mickey.”

The older man chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t thank me, guys. Just get out of here and enjoy the rest of your night. You’re engaged now, after all. Go celebrate.”

“Thanks,” you hummed again, standing from your seat. Dylan followed your lead, not hesitating to reach out for your hand. Fingers interlocked together, the athlete beginning to lead you to the door.

“Oh, and guys?” Mickey called, making you both halt and turn. Mickey’s lips were straight and tight, his eyes narrowed. The glint was glaring, sending shivers to your spine. “Don’t let this happen again. Next time, I won’t be able to help. We won’t go lenient like this again.”

“Yes, sir,” you said in unison, rushing out the door with a loud thunk, running away from your boss as fast as possible.

His words were bone chilling, and his stare was soul piercing. You didn’t want to test him any further. You were saved once - that was enough already.

Most people, to celebrate their engagement, would pop a bottle of champagne, make a toast, sip the bubbly alcohol until you could feel the bubbles popping down your throat and in your stomach, destroying your inhibitions after splitting the rest of the bottle.

But no.

You were carried to Dylan’s room quickly, the front door barely shut and locked before you were thrown over his shoulder. It didn’t matter that he had played baseball all night. It didn’t matter that he was tired and sore. His adrenaline was pumping and his hormones were through the roof. His erection was obvious in his jeans, a thick rod pressed against the inside of the denim. The outline was prominent, even in the dim light of the house.

His lips were pressed to yours before you could blink, your back laid to his sheets with the man hovering over you. His hips ground to yours, honey colored irises closing in bliss. Your own eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his tongue tracing your sealed lips, prying them open to gain access to your inner cheeks. Your hands roamed up and down the man’s muscled back, scratching at his shirt that stood between your nails and his marked skin.

The kisses you shared were fast and sloppy, his lips dragging down yours before disconnecting with a loud, distinct smack that filled the four walls of the bedroom. Your separation was always short lived, reconnection after a brief intake of air. Tongues tangled together, swirling circles around one another between your cheeks. Noses bumped against each other, teeth clashing. Smack after smack of lips was making your body tremble, ears ringing from the sound. Your legs wanted to rub together to ease the sensation present between them, yet Dylan’s body kept that from happening.

The man leaned back, your lips swollen and red from his relentless assault. Your eyes were glazed over from ecstasy, but you managed to focus on the handsome man above you. His biceps flexed, veins running along his arms that accentuated his skin, making your mouth water. As he crossed his arms, hands taking the ends, the shirt was removed - discarded across the room. He was left bare from the waist up: lean abs glaring at you, perky pink nipples against pale skin - one tiny freckle resting above one, a defined collarbone and shoulders that made your heart race. His Calvin Klein boxers poked out of the band of his jeans, clinging to his v-lines. His muscles twitched whenever he moved.

He pulled yours up next, your hands held above your head while he stripped your shirt off your body, bra following shortly after. The sheets felt cold under your bare back, goosebumps forming on your arms. They grew - they were amplified - with the tender touch of his lips trailing down your body, leaving marks from your neck to your chest, assaulting your breasts with loving kisses. The nipple was drawn between his lips, tongue flicking at the stiff bud restlessly. A veiny hand massaged the other, fondling it in the palm with the pad of his thumb smoothing over the erect peak.

You mewled loudly for him, his name befalling your lips. The graze of his teeth against your skin drove you insane, the man nipping endlessly at your skin. The tug of his lips at your nipple, pulling at it until it was released with a pop, made your head spin, your core throbbing with want. Everything he did made the increasing wetness between your legs more prevalent. Yet, all you could do was tug at his hair, pleading at him for more.

An empty feeling remained when he left your chest, his kisses trailing south. His nimble fingers worked quickly on the shorts hugging you hip, dragging them - panties included - down your slender legs in one swift motion. Dylan received a full view of your dripping pussy, his mouth gaping and wet at the sight. Two long digits ran through your folds, gathering the moisture you had seeped out. The tips toyed with the entrance, your body writhing unhappily.

“Dyl,” you whined, watching him through half-lidded eyes. “Please. I want you. I need you.”

“What do you want, baby? What do you need?”

“Your cock,” you mused quickly.

Dylan pouted, your laugh unable to be released like normal. On every other occasion, you would have loved the way he pouted, calling him adorable and soft. But, you were desperate in that moment for more. “But baby,” he whined, voice low and husky. “I want to taste you so bad. I haven't gotten to indulge in your body in days. I haven’t gotten to taste your sweet juices on my tongue. I want to eat you out so bad.”

“Fine,” you huffed. Your legs wrapped around him, let out a grunt when you forced him to flip over. The man under you didn’t see pleased when he found himself against the mattress, the springs squeaking under yours weights bouncing from the movement. You leaned up his body, your frame flesh against him - chest to chest, hips grinding together with his jeans blocking him from meeting your center. “Then, we can do it this way.”

He wanted to question, but he didn’t. He let you do what you were planning because he knew he wouldn’t be disappointed. He watched you remove his pants without a hitch, his cock erect and free. He loved the idea of your body hovering over him, turning so your wet pussy was in his eyeline, directly above his mouth. It was even better because you were staring right at his shaft, your lips puckered to place kisses at the swollen, red tip.

He was hungry, delving in for his meal before you could sample yours. His tongue dove deep into you, swirling circles between your walls that made your arms weak. A loud moan was heard, silenced when your hand took his shaft, directing it between your cheeks. Dylan loved the way you blew him, bobbing your head up and down his shaft, hollowed cheeks particularly working at the sensitive head of his length. Your tongue always loved two things: the rough patch of the frenulum and the pulsing vein on the underside of his cock. The way your tongue slid over them made his legs clench, his abs tighten, and his orgasm imminent.

This was one of his favorite positions because he was able to please you, savoring your taste while you fought back moans, while you pleased him at the same time. It was a win-win scenario, both players hitting a homerun when you were gushing down each other’s throats.

Yet, he was greedy. He loved the taste of you on his tongue. He loved the way your walls tightened, spasming happily while he licked you clean. He loved the way your body quivered when his thumb met your engorged clit, intensifying the feeling his mouth gave you. And he loved the way you felt on his cock, gagging on him while shoving him down your throat like he was your last meal. Your mouth felt tight and wet, your tongue working magic on his male parts. Your hand cupped his balls close to him, juggling between fingers while being held. He loved it all.

But he wanted to be inside you, watching you moan. He wanted to be thrusting into you, watching your tits bounce as he moved. He wanted to fuck you hard and fast, filling your pussy with strings of his seed until you were seeping his white substance.

The downside to having an athlete as a boyfriend? Well… fiancée? He was strong and found it easy to dominate you. When he wanted to be in control, he could easily overpower you. That’s how you found yourself back on the bed, head against the pillow with your legs separated. Dylan sat between them, stroking himself languidly. His shaft was wet thanks to your previous actions, making it easy to work himself to ensure he was hard and ready. The tip was even more red and ready than before, oozing precum from the slit.

“Are you ready, baby?” he rasped, voice deep and husky. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’re never going to forget this moment. You’ll be feeling me pounding your tiny little cunt for days. God, I’m going to fill you up so much.”

“Please,” you pleaded, back arching. “Please Dyl. I need you.”

“God, I love when you whine for me,” he let out, leaning down to kiss your lips once. “I love you, baby. You’re all mine.”

“All yours,” you uttered lowly. Your arms wrapped around his neck, playing with the hair on the back of his head. “Please, Dyl. I need you.”

“What do you want?”

You whimpered, scratching at his scalp. “I need you to fuck me, baby. So hard and so fast. Just the way I love it.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he mused.

He was inside you in a matter of seconds, hilt deep and stretching your walls wide. Your moan was drawn out, throat rumbling his name. Your head was thrown back, holding onto him tighter. His large cock filled you to the brim, pulsating inside you to make your insides churn.

He didn’t stay still for long, the man leaning back on his knees to thrust wildly into you. His hips pulled back, snapping back into you roughly. Skin slapped against skin, his hands gripping your thighs to keep your legs separate. Your body jostled against the bed, moaning profusely at the way he made you feel. His cock pistoned in and out of you quickly, the skin soaked with your arousal. The tip hit your sweet spot every time he slid back into you, making your stomach clench. He pounded you into his mattress, shoving himself deep into you.

“Fuck. Yes,” you gasped, weaving your fingers through your hair, arching your back off the bed. Dylan licked his lips, staring at your chest that bounced with his motions. The sight alone made him push harder, thrusting faster than before into you. “Fuck! Right there, baby!”

“God, you’re beautiful when you scream for me,” he let out, biting his lip. “Keep screaming for me baby. It makes me so hard for you.”

His hand dropped from one leg, finding your clit. An electric shock coursed through your body, screaming his name from his simple touch. Harsh circles were rubbed to the nub, amplifying the pleasure you were feeling. You were squirming against the mattress, desperate for release. Your vision was blurry, the combination of his powerful thrusts and his fingers rubbing harshly to your sensitive clit tightening your gut. Your throat was tight, almost unable to breath in the heat of the moment. Sweat coated your skin, the sheets stuck to your skin.

“Dyl,” you panted, eyes clenching. “Oh god, Dyl.”

“That’s right, baby. Say my name,” he grunted. “Are you going to cum?”

“Yes,” you managed to squeak. “I’m cumming. Oh god, I’m cumming!”

Your sight blackened for a bit, body spasming relentlessly. Your walls clung around him, liquid splattering around him. The wet sensation coated him - literally. For the first time in your life, you had squirted upon your orgasm, Dylan’s lower stomach wet from the action. It soaked into the sheets under you, your body slowly beginning to ease. Though he didn’t fill you up, having experienced his own orgasm, his cock throbbed against your walls, enjoying not only the tightness of your pussy and the wetness that came with it, but the experience he was given.

Your eyes cracked open as your high died, staring at the man. His eyes were dark, his hand scratching at his chin like he was pondering what just happened. His tongue slowly eased over his lips. His hips circled against yours, still filling you up.

“You squirted,” he blunted hummed. Your face began to heat up, blushing profusely. “You fucking squirted, baby.”

“I did?” you replied meekly.

“Yeah,” he mused with a smirk. “And fuck, I didn’t know that would be so hot. That was literally the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. God, can you do that again?”

“Really?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow with a smile. “And yet, you didn’t cum yet? It was hot, and you didn’t cum?”

“Not yet, but I’m pretty close,” he told you. “If you squirt again, I won’t be able to contain myself.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” you quipped. “I’m ready for round two.”

Dylan’s smile grew, pulling out of you long enough to turn you on your side, resting on his elbow behind you. One leg was draped over his hips, allowing his cock to realign with your core. He tilted your head back to face him, placing a passionate kiss to your lips as he slid back into you.

His hips snapped into you, hips bucking against your backside. His lips continued to attack yours, shielding your moans from the rest of the room. His hand gripped at your chest, squeezing your breast until his knuckles were white. Your body was instantly on fire once again, stomach tight and body weak in his grasp.

His thrusts were sloppy, his orgasm already impending. He was close from before, and the new angle, tight and wet, made it harder to keep himself sane. Thrusting into you from behind, his hand clasp tightly around your breast, he was forced to breathe heavily, nose flaring with each breath. He kissed you incessantly, tongues playing and lips smacking. He was bound to lose to soon, pounding into you as fast as he could. The tip rammed into your g-spot with ease, making your walls hug him tighter.

The hand on your breast slid between your legs, the man thankful your leg was over his hip, your heel hitting his perfectly round backside. His fingers found home on your clit once more, the pads of his fingers skimming over the nub. In his arms, you quivered, shaking from intensity. He was trying to drive you over the edge, your sight beginning to develop black dots and colorful stars.

“Cum for me,” he whispered against your lips. “Cum and squirt for me. Show me how good I make my fiancé feel.”

The way he said it, emphasizing the term, made your heart burst out of your chest. His rhythm, though frantic in nature, picked up, slamming himself into you in desperation. You could feel it - he was close. And you could feel yourself slowly giving in to the ecstasy of love. Your mouth parted, managing to choke out, “only if you cum inside me too,” before going limp in his arm, convulsing in his grasp.

Your legs were wet. The sheets were wet. The liquid went everywhere it felt like. It came gushing out, splashing against his hand as he rubbed at your swollen clit vehemently. Your walls clenched around his cock, ready to milk him dry when he, too, came. Your juices spilled out around him, coating his shaft to make it easier for his wild, animalistic thrusts. His lips met yours, hiding the moans you both wanted to release.

The knot inside him unraveled the second he felt your walls close. The orgasm he had been chasing, yet fighting, was here. Strings of his hot seed shot out in bursts, filling your womb with his warm essence, mixing with yours. Every last drop he had built up poured into you, filling you with love and affection you knew he felt for you - and only you.

His lips slowly left yours, chest heaving with heavy pants. His eyes cracked open slowly, seeing the smile form on your face, your chest mirroring his. He watched your chest rise and fall, licking his lips at the sight of your breasts that kept him hard within you for a moment longer. Slowly, he pulled out of you, cupping himself as he waddled to the bathroom for a wet towel to clean yourselves up with. He took to the time to tenderly wash you himself, showing the softer side of the former playboy only you, and people close to him, got to see.

You felt the bed dip when he sat on it, running his fingers through your sweaty hair. “Who would have thought that seeing you squirt would be the hottest thing in the world?” he teased, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “I could live seeing that every day.”

“Did you never make a girl squirt before, O’Brien?”

“No, actually,” he chuckled dryly. “But, I’m glad when I did, it was with you. Because fuck, I’m going to be dreaming about that.”

“Well, you’re stuck with it from now on,” you laughed, rolling onto your stomach, head turned to stare at him. “You really want to be stuck with me for the rest of your life?”

Dylan glanced up at the ceiling, leaning back with his arms behind his head. “Years ago, a beautiful woman joined the Mets as our ball girl. She was the most beautiful and talented woman I had ever seen. Yet, I was a dick that fucked around with woman. She made me want to change. That same woman is now my manager and I couldn’t be happier that she is where she is - in my life. And I want her to stay there.

“I love you, my manager girl.”

“I love you too, you dork,” you laughed, pulling him down into a kiss. “You sure have changed a lot since we first met. You’re such a softie now.”

Dylan grinned evilly, forcing back onto your back. His hands trailed up your sides, the man listening to your low moans.

“We can change that.”

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