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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

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hi idk if u take requests, but if u do could u write a Din x Reader where the reader gets really sunburnt and she doesn’t want to be a burden to Din so she doesn’t tell him, and then when he finds out he helps her treat it? I’d love if they admitted their feelings for each other in the end..

Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Warning: injury, mentions of blood and pain, self doubt and anxiety

Word Count: 1,890

a/n: i changed 'sunburnt' to a different injury and i hope that's okay. i only did that b/c if i wrote the reader as sunburnt i'd have to describe her skin color, and i like to keep my drabbles as inclusive as possible. hope you don't mind!

COMMON MISTAKE

"Pylades: I'll take care of you.

Orestes: It's rotten work.

Pylades: Not to me. Not if it's you."

Din told you to be careful. Actually, his exact words were, ‘Stop playing with your karking knife’. You, in all your excellent brilliance, had mouthed off a passive acknowledgement before continuing to play with your vibroblade. Although, ‘play’ was a strong word. You just wanted to get good at spinning it in your hand. Before you left Mandalore, you had seen Paz do it and since then you were determined to master that skill.

So, the summary was, Din told you to be careful, you had not been careful, and now you were bleeding. A lot. Dank farrik. In your defense, he had warned you that you were gonna cut your hand, and that was not what happened. You had tripped going up the ramp and accidentally skewered your thigh. Which, when worded that way, was ten thousand times worse. It was a good thing you hadn’t hit an artery because you would’ve bled to death before calling Din to let him know you were dying from an injury born of your own stupidity.

“This is fine. I’m fine. No problem.” You mumbled to yourself as you wrapped your thigh with some padded gauze. You refused to use bacta on this. The thought of wasting the expensive and important medication on this injury only added guilt to your shame. “Everything is okay.” It looked good now all covered up and out of sight. Your pants were absolutely ruined with a hole in the thigh and blood that stained the entire length of your left leg, but it was fine. “I’m fine.”

If you repeated the word ‘fine’ enough times then it was bound to come true. Science.

You pushed off the cot to stand and nearly crumpled under the weight. Pain, hot and unbearable, rocketed from your hip down to your toes. Your entire left leg was angry and screaming at you. With a sharp breath, you forced yourself to walk and get a new pair of pants. Your communicator chirped a message that Din was on his way back with Grogu and that put a whole new level of panic on the situation. Getting your clothing situated, you chose to stand rather than sit. There was a solid chance if you sat down right now you wouldn’t be able to get back up.

Five minutes passed when Din came around the side of the ship to stand at the end of the ramp. Grogu was playing with an unfamiliar toy in the satchel by his side. The Mandalorian must have caved and bought the kid a new toy again.

“Hey,” Din called out without coming closer, “Are you done with the wiring?”

You had stayed behind to repair some loose wiring. Your sole job on the ship was to keep the damn thing in the air, and Maker did the Razor Crest fight you at every step. You nodded. “Yes. Yupp. All good.”

“Come with me.” Din motioned for you to follow after him. “I want to show you something in the town.”

You let out a quiet whimper as he slid out of view, and with a steadying breath you marched out with the most normal gait you could manage. Honestly, you were impressed with yourself. You’d be more impressed if you hadn’t stabbed yourself in the first place, but considering your situation you’d claim this victory. The town wasn’t far from where Din parked the ship and it was a small, but colorful village nestled in the wilds of Naboo. Somehow the fact that you injured yourself while the three of you were parked on one of the most relaxing and safe worlds out there only made your pride sting that much more.

There was sweat beading on your forehead that you had to wipe away and your leg was burning in white, hot agony. Din continued to glance your way, you could feel his gaze, until he finally spoke. “You’re awfully quiet today, tranyc’ika.”

“Just… thinking.” You replied. It was a Maker damned miracle your words didn’t fall out with a whimper. Only a few paces ahead was a little shop that sold caf. Tables and chairs littered the outside patio and the second you and Din began to pass them, you drifted to take a seat. “Hey, how⏤ how about some caf, yeah?”

Din paused and just stared at you. You licked your lips and focused on taking slow breaths through your nose. Finally, Din shifted so he faced you dead on and his hands went to his hips. As if recognizing Din’s ‘lecture stance’, Grogu stopped playing to pay attention to what was happening.

“Walk to me.” He near demanded it.

“That’s a weird request.” You replied and made no move to stand. Din tilted his head at you. Dank farrik. Hands on hip and the head tilt. You were royally fucked. “Yeah, alright. Here I come.”

Just as you had guessed in the ship, the act of sitting down had ruined you. If your slow and shaky rise from the chair didn’t give you away, you took three steps before your left leg gave out on you completely. Before you could hit the ground, strong arms caught you with ease and you looked up to meet Din’s dark t-shaped visor.

“What did you kriffing do?”

“I, uh,” You offered him a sheepish smile, “I, maybe, stabbed myself. A little.”

You had gotten pretty good at reading Din’s body language which was why it was too easy to notice how his entire body stiffened. Without a word, he scooped you up into his arms, bridal style, and began to carry you back toward the ship. Grogu crawled up his dad’s side and found a home on your abdomen where he babbled at you in worry. The babbles were a fantastic distraction from the rage that seemed to waft off Din. When he got back into the cargo hold he carefully set you down after Grogu hopped off. His hands went back to his hip and you could only imagine he was glaring down at you through his visor.

“Pants off. Now.” He snapped.

You had always dreamed of him saying that to you, but it always had a very different context than your current reality. With a pained sigh, you undid your belt then carefully shimmied out of your pants before leaning back on the metal crate behind you for balance. Din ripped his gloves off, tossing them down in a fit, but when his hands found your thigh his touch was soft and careful.

Din peeled away the gauze you had applied and you realized you had nearly bled through more than half of the padding you had put down. The sound of a hiss escaped Din’s helmet when he saw your wound and you couldn’t help but wince as well.

“Don’t move.” He said. Din’s voice left no room for argument as he drifted away. He returned with the first aid kit and you watched him pull out the bacta. You opened your mouth to argue, but the second a sound squeaked out of you his head snapped up to meet your eyes. You didn’t have to guess if he was glaring this time. You could feel the heat of it cutting through the visor and into your soul.

Moments after he applied the bacta, relief began to seep into your thigh. You couldn’t hold back the soft sigh that tumbled from your lips. Din carefully reapplied a new bandage once he was appeased with the amount of bacta he spread around and into the wound. You had hoped when he was finished he would just walk away and leave you to your misery, but you always had been a dumb, blind optimist and the galaxy loved to disappoint you.

Din set his hands on either side of you, knuckles white with how hard he gripped the edge of the crate, and he shook his head. “What happened?”

“I… I tripped. Fell on my knife.”

He sighed, “Are you out of your kriffing mind?”

“No.” You replied. “It’s not like I did it on purpose! I’m negligent, not insane.”

“You tripped, fell on your knife, stabbed yourself in the thigh, and then hid it from me?” Din’s voice grew louder with each event. His words pushing out in what was basically a growl.

You twisted your lips before nodding once. “That is an accurate description of events, yes.”

“Why⏤”

“Because Din!” You interrupted him. “First off, it’s the dumbest injury a person could possibly sustain so of course I didn’t tell you! Forget the karking wound, I nearly died of embarrassment.” You huffed a sigh and shook your head. “And, secondly, I’m so tired of feeling like a burden. You’re always there, taking care of me, and I just… I don’t want to be so dependent on you all the time.”

Din leaned in and you were surprised when he rested his head against your chest. Instinctively, your hands raised to wrap around his helmet, elbows resting on his shoulders. “Gar draar suvarir, tranyc’ika.” He mumbled and you only recognized your nickname. Din lightly shook his head against you. “I want to take care of you. I need to.”

“Why, Din? Why⏤”

“I don’t⏤” Din cut himself off with a grumble. Slowly, he lifted his head back up and your hands fell to his shoulders. “I’ve never been good at expressing myself with⏤ with words. But, I can take care of you. I can show you.”

“Oh.” You replied. Was he…? Did he…? You wondered if this was an admission or if your own feelings for him were biasing your thoughts.

“So will you please, for the love the Maker, just let me take care of you?” Din breathed out.

You nodded. “Okay.”

Din’s body slumped with relief and he caught you off guard by pushing off the crate and pulling you into his arms for an embrace. His arms around you were tight⏤ as if desperate for the touch. When you leaned your weight into him, letting him hold you up, you heard him let out a soft sigh. One of his bare hands traced up your spine and cupped the back of your neck. Feeling the warmth of his hand press against your bare skin made your eyes flutter close.

“It’s a common mistake.” Din said quietly. It took you a moment to pull yourself out of the haze of bliss you had been lost in to hum out a reply. “I tripped and fell on my blade once.”

Your lips pulled up into a smile. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, tranyc’ika.” Din replied. He chuckled. “Granted, it happened when I was seven.”

“Okay, touching moment of comfort, officially over.”

A laugh bubbled out from Din’s helmet, the sound comparable to a fresh breeze with the exhilaration it brought you. He pulled away from you, but left his hand on the back of your neck. Din quickly leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours for a few seconds, before his hand fell away an the moment truly ended. You stared at him as he collected the first aid kit to put away. Before he could leave, your hand shot out to grasp his wrist.

"I..." You paused. "I think I'm better with words. And I, I just want you to know that you're so important to me, Din."

"I know." Din nodded. He flipped his hand over so he could squeeze your hand, and it brought a smile back to your face. "Now put your pants back on. Your stab wound interrupted our date."

"Wait, our what??"

mando'a translations:

Gar draar suvarir: You don't (never) understand.

tranyc’ika: sunshine (sunny one)

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader

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corazondebeskar-reads · 2 months

Text

live to rise - chapter four

live to rise series

four: where the light won't find you

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

gladiator!Din Djarin x f!reader

word count: 4.3k

summary: After the Mandalorian is removed from your barrack and you are given a new assignment, you see him fight for the first time.

chapter warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, implied rape/non-con (NOT involving reader or Din), implied physical abuse, near-death encounter, mando fic tropes galore

Please heed the series and chapter warnings.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Reassigned. Not terminated. Reassigned. Your hand rests on your heaving chest as you try to settle from the surprise of it all.

The Mandalorian’s been sponsored.

You hadn’t thought it possible; his price was supposedly astronomical. This person must be obscenely rich.

And then your heart drops further. This is why you shouldn’t have gotten so close. Yes, you’d rather have him leave your barracks alive than dead, but you can’t help the wave of sorrow that crests. You had enjoyed his company immensely, even dismissing the feelings you weren’t acknowledging.

It’s not like you didn’t treat each parting as potentially permanent anyway, but sometimes, with your long-term residents, you got a little too comfortable.

You pack up the bedding hastily and head toward Cresh. You know he won’t still be there, you tell yourself, you’re just going to get the cell turned over as soon as possible.

It hurts a little to find it empty, anyway.

Cresh goes through three more C-5s before you hear about the Mandalorian again.

“How did you deal with him?” Hali asks you one night after the attendants have shared the day’s news.

“With who?” you ask, even though there’s no one else she could mean.

“That Mandalorian. He was so gruff and rude. I’m the fifth attendant he’s rejected, and it’s making everyone on edge. Like there’s something wrong with us .”

You shrug it off. “He’s just guarded. He probably doesn’t want someone in his space.”

“Yeah, well,” she grumbles. “It’s not like we want to be in his space.”

“Has anyone explained that to him?”

“I tried to,” she says. “But it’s like he wouldn’t even listen to me.”

Cold clarity finds you with your lips parted and eyes wide. You can’t tell her. But your stomach sinks. The design of those cells puts him at the back of the chamber. If they’re being quiet, from fear or otherwise, he can’t hear them.

They come for you the next day. Two guards. The fear when they beckon you is almost enough to bring you to your knees.

The only reason you don’t panic completely is because they don’t bind you. They just march you between them to the upper levels.

When you reach the lounge, they shove you through the door, and you stumble a little.

“This is the girl, as requested, Madame, but we really can’t spare her from her duties,” says one of the commanders. You don’t know his name; the officers never come downstairs.

“If she’s the only attendant he’ll accept, you don’t have a choice. Or am I paying these frankly extortionary caretaking fees for nothing?”

You stiffen, all nerves sparking on high alert.

The commander stammers a little, losing his composure when he realizes credits are on the line.

“I can handle both, Commander, I swear," you say, immediately wishing you hadn't.

The Mandalorian's sponsor turns slowly, a thin eyebrow arched. You figure you’re already in for it for speaking out of turn, so you clench your jaw and meet her eyes.

She’s petite, but there’s an undeniable aura of danger pouring from her. Her dark eyes are cold, and her plum lips narrowed. Her clothing is intricate and expensive in the way of the truly wealthy—it’s not dripping with jewels or gold; it’s quality fabric tailored immaculately, with delicate embroidery creating striking and flattering designs. She does wear jewelry, but it’s subtle and almost assuredly custom.

“Why you?” she says.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I was his barrack caretaker.”

She hums and blatantly looks you up and down, circling you like a nexu. You keep your head up and force yourself not to follow her with your eyes. To let her prowl and remain uncowed.

It’s unbecoming of a servant, you know. But you want her to know you can handle him, that you won’t be intimated and manipulated by the infamous Mandalorian.

When she comes back around, she has a pleased, sharp grin. Turning to the commander, she crosses her arms.

“Make it happen, or I’ll withdraw my sponsorship.”

“Yes, Madame,” he says.

You don’t want to leave the barracks. Not Cresh and not the servant’s quarters. It doesn’t really hit you until you hug Eli and realize you’ll barely see him anymore.

“Shut up,” he grumbles when you say as much. “You’re going to come by and report, right?”

You nod, sniffling into his tunic. “I will.”

He puts his hands on your shoulders. “This is a good thing. You’ll have better… everything. And you said you trust him, right?”

“I think so,” you say.

“C’mon, I’ll walk with you,” he says.

You shove his shoulder. “You just want to see what it’s like inside.”

“Well, duh,” he shoves you back.

He only gets to peek in, of course. But he still plays it up to get a smile from you. “This is kriffing wizard,” he teases. “You get your own fresher? Practically Canto Bight.”

But you’re not really seeing it through the same lens. Because your new quarters are in the Mandalorian’s cell. There’s a barred gate between you, but your cot is still behind the solid durasteel door, same as his.

Eli sees the fear on your face. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s not locked for you. Your badge will always open it.”

He sets your bag down on the small cot and hugs you again. “You know where to find me.”

“I will,” you say. You don’t catch the look he gives Mando over your shoulder.

You sit down on the cot when Eli leaves, more unmoored here than you’ve been in years. You let it sit, ugly and misshapen in your chest, before steeling your focus.

“Do you have everything you need?” you say.

“I think so,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, and silence resettles. It’s strange to feel so uncertain around him again. “I’ll go retrieve your dinner.”

“Do you eat here as well?” he asks.

“If you wish,” you say. Your hands are folded together and wrapped up in the top apron layer of your skirts.

“I don’t want to disrupt your routine,” he says.

“I’m here to attend to you,” you remind him, feeling a little frustrated by all the things unsaid.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s—it’s nothing,” you say and sigh. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

He’s almost relieved when you only bring one tray. Everything about this has been chaotic and messy. But it’s a sacrifice that has to be made.

You retrieve his tray when you return from dining with the others, but this time, you come back to him after. The lights are out, and you think he might be asleep already, so you duck into the fresher from your side of the bars and wash up for the night.

You settle onto your cot, almost grateful that it’s not any more comfortable than your old one. It’s strange, without the shuffling and snoring of your peers.

And then it starts. A horribly unmistakable sound from the cell next door. You hope you’re wrong. You pray you’re wrong.

You’re not.

You sit up, fingers digging into your knees, and eyes on the ground.

You can’t see into the cells around you, but you can certainly hear your neighboring attendant’s screams and cries.

They’re begging and pleading, but no one will help them. It’s the champion’s right. The attendants must serve every request unless it goes against arena rules.

Very few things do.

It’s not that you’re afraid of the Mandalorian. It’s more like you’re just afraid. But he’s done nothing to lose your trust, so you try not to flinch when he comes near the bars between his cell and your chamber.

While you manage not to, you do flinch each time the noises intensify or change. The sound of skin against skin is constant, but some are more obviously violent, emphasized by the nauseating responses.

“Hey,” he says. “Come here.”

You’re trembling a little, but you tense and try to hold steady as you stand and approach him. The gate is not locked. It only locks when you access the main door, so that you may come and go without releasing him.

If you’re inside? All he has to do is push.

But he doesn’t. “Don’t listen,” he says. “Cover your ears if you have to.”

“I’m fine,” you say.

He doesn’t quite catch it, but he can wager a solid guess from your expression. He sighs. “You can look at me, you know,” he says. “You’ll see me eventually.”

“I might be able to avoid it,” you say.

“I appreciate it,” he says. “But this is all going to be easier if you don’t have to be trying so hard.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want to take anything from you.”

“I’m asking you to. I don’t want the first time you see my face to be in the arena.”

You bite your lip. It makes sense. “You’re sure?”

“I am.”

And you can’t really argue. Not because you’re supposed to do what he says but because you get it. He’s right; you will see him in the arena. But he can control how it happens this way. It doesn’t have to be another thing they just take.

So you look.

Your eyes scan his face like they always do when you see one of your fighters for the first time. Searing it in so you can find it later in the pigments.

You won’t paint him, though. Not like this.

He holds steady eye contact. You feel like he’s waiting for a reaction, but nothing comes. He’s beautiful, but that’s not yours to say.

“I’m sorry,” you say instead.

“Thank you.” He pauses. “Worked, though, didn’t it?”

You blink at him for a moment.

The smallest shadow of a crooked smile flickers but doesn’t ignite. “Distracted you.”

The hall is quiet. You hadn’t realized, but the horrors next door had wound down. Stars, you hope they’re okay. Sleeping or tending their wounds. Not… well. Not forcibly silenced.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, drawing your eyes back to him. His fingers wrap around a bar near yours. Not touching, but inviting.

“Okay.” You’re not really sure what else to say. You’ve heard it before. Some mean it, some don’t. You think he’s genuine, that he’s safe, but that caution is like a little burn that never heals, leaving you to flinch away.

Your fingers twitch, and he thinks you’re about to touch his.

But you wince when the main door of the neighboring cell opens. His eyes bear a plea he won’t voice, but you only hesitate for a moment before pressing your badge to the scanner. His gate clicks and the door whooshes open.

They’re already ducking into the medbay when you catch up, so you stick your hand in front of the sensor to force the doors back open.

It’s the girl whose name you couldn’t remember on the Mandalorian’s first night. Sessa. She startles and whirls around when she hears you, hand pressed to her chest.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you," you say quietly.

She looks at you for a moment, something hauntingly empty in her eyes before she seems to recognize you. She covers her face with her hands.

“Please,” you whisper. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I—” her voice breaks, and you step closer, offering an embrace she folds into.

You don’t say anything. What could you? That you’re sorry? She knows. That it’ll be okay? It won’t. It’s horrible, she doesn’t deserve it, it’s inhumane, but none of those things will help her. She knows.

She doesn’t even really cry. It aches, but the tears don’t come, just the soft prickle of numbness. She’ll survive this, you think. She shouldn’t have to, but she will.

When the time for softness has faded, you let her pull back, and she lets you assess her. She sits on the counter with an ice pack to her cheek and drinks the tea you press into her hand. Her nose wrinkles at the bitter taste, but the tincture within is worth it. A reassurance. Nothing will come of this that she can’t bear.

When she leaves, she hugs you again, and you stay behind in the dark room, leaning against the counter with your arms folded over your chest.

It wasn’t a secret, what happened here. It didn’t always; a lot of the fighters are honorable people. But sometimes… sometimes this life warps the psyche beyond repair. Sometimes, desperate people do desperate things. Become something terrible to survive.

You just hadn’t been witness to the cruelty before.

When you go back, Mando is still awake. Waiting, you think.

“Is she—” he hesitates. He doesn’t want to ask if she’s okay, because the answer is no. It’s not really what he’s asking, anyway.

You nod, lips pursed tight. She’ll live, your silence says. And it’ll have to be enough.

It’s strange. Waking in his cell but rising to follow your old habits anyway. He gets served first, and then you take breakfast down to Cresh as if nothing has changed. Except you can’t linger, you can’t chat and learn of them as you used to. You have to return to the Mandalorian.

It’s strange for the both of you. Your time is usually spent busy or with the other servants. His time is usually spent alone. He doesn’t have a fight that first day and so you are forced to learn to navigate one another.

The gate between you remains closed.

He does push-ups while you fold laundry, executes a series of jumps that cycle between laying on the floor and springing to his feet that exhaust you just to see from the corner of your eye while you clean, and balances on his hands—one and both—while you flip through the agenda on your datapad and try not to be caught impressed.

It’s quiet, this life, with neither of you inclined to interrupt the other. You let him know when you phase in and out to attend to your duties and his needs. Otherwise, you don’t really speak until nightfall.

“I’m sorry,” he says in the safety of the dark. “I didn’t know it would create more of a burden for you. I just… couldn’t trust anyone else.”

“It’s not a burden, just a change. I understand,” you say softly.

He sighs, an edge of frustration biting. “I disrupted your routine.”

You snort. “So?”

“I separated you from your friends.”

You sigh. “Will it make you feel better if I pretend to be mad?”

“Why aren’t you?”

You sit up on your cot. “Nothing about this life is fair, and it’s all temporary. Everyone leaves, one way or another. Everything shifts. This is just another phase of my time here, and there’s no point in being upset about it.”

He lets it sit for a minute. “How long have you been here?”

“Three years. I have just under two left.”

The weight of the time is not lost on him, and you can see the hint of a grim smile. “You haven’t let it break you.”

You return the smile. “Not yet.”

He reclines against the wall, legs sprawled and dangling over the side of his bed. “For what it’s worth, I truly am sorry. It was a selfish thing for me to ask of you.”

“I’m glad you’re not alone.” You mean it. It may have disrupted what you knew before, but getting moved here did the same for him. And it took away his opportunity to talk to others. “I’m glad you trust me with this.”

He sighs, bittersweet. “Me too.”

Something shifts, then, that you’re grateful for. The guilt and awkwardness dissipate and leave behind that budding comradery you had started to forge together. A sense of peace.

It’s one of the better nights of sleep you’ve had in a long time.

You’ve never been in the stands before, let alone in the box. Though it’s exposed to the open sun, the vents wash it in cool air, unlike the curved benches where the crowds jeer and hiss.

No, up here in the sponsor box, surrounded by the important and the rich, you’re considered fortunate. The Mandalorian’s sponsor is late, but you’re in place. While he waits for battle, your services shift to her.

“You’re still here,” the Madame says as she approaches her seat.

You stand to the side, stiff and silent, until she draws near. “Yes, Madame.”

She gives you an appraising once-over. “Good.” Her voice is as sharp as her eyes, and she settles to watch.

You don’t really know the protocol here. Your days serving in the lounge were passed silently, circling the room with a loaded tray. Here, you’re meant to cater to her alone.

She doesn’t speak to you, though. Doesn’t acknowledge you. She lounges, coiled and elegant, like a tree viper.

You don’t want to watch the fights. You don’t. But you know, now, that you must. You owe it to the barrack caretakers; you can’t leave this responsibility to the other attendants alone. You all bear the burden together.

When the first fight ends in a double loss, both fighters fatally wounded, you know you’re not strong enough for this. The nausea rises until all you smell is blood, a phantom sense as the sand turns red beneath each pair’s feet. You’re shaking and all you can think is how glad you are not to have to hold a tray of glasses.

And then it’s time.

The Madame sits up, focused, and you know. Teeth dig into the soft flesh of your cheek to hold your breath steady and shallow. Quiet as possible, as if you need to strain to hear what’s playing out in front of you.

And you think, he should not be caged, for he is power and beauty and ferociousness. You can see why his people followed him to death. He is death.

His opponent lands exactly one strike, and you almost think the Mandalorian allowed it. Like he was gauging the strength and will. He prowls, teeth bloodied and bared, a snarl natural in the set of his lips. You think it’s laid in beskar steel, a scar you can’t smooth out into the soft curve of a smile.

No, that’s been stolen from him, too.

He asks his opponent’s name, and you think he’s carving it into his ribcage, so each time he breathes, it impresses upon his lungs.

When he moves, it’s calculated. Like the arena is a map he’s plotting, each strike or dodge choreographed and steadfast. There are no weapons today, just fists, and though his opponent has the advantage of razor-sharp teeth, they never even come close to slicing him open.

And then it’s over. The Mandalorian’s broad hands dwarf the other fighter’s jaw as he secures his grip and snaps. The body falls limp and the Mandalorian sneers at the crowd before he looks up.

There’s no way he can see you, but it feels like it. It feels like he sees you there, and doesn’t find what he was afraid of.

He’s not in the room when you get back down, and you pre-set his towels and clean clothes, so you won’t need to go hunting them down if he wants to shower. It’s still mid-afternoon, and you’re buzzing with the leftover cocktail of adrenaline and cortisol when he comes back.

Neither of you speaks at first as he goes into his half of the cell and cracks his knuckles, sighing deeply once the main doors are shut.

“Are you okay?” he says.

You’re surprised until you realize you shouldn’t be. He knows how weak you are. “Yeah,” you say.

“Are you afraid of me now?” he says quietly, not looking at you.

Oh. You get up and come closer to the gate. “No. I’m not.”

He meets your eyes and must find the truth in them, nodding grimly. “So what did you think?”

“Why do they have you fight with a shirt on?”

His eyes widen. “What?”

“Well, it’s just, they usually—um.”

“What?”

“They usually make the more attractive fighters wear as little as possible. You know. To appeal to the crowds.”

Huh. He thought it was a choice made by the few he’d seen showing skin. And then he can’t help it. You won’t look him in the eye, and he can’t resist. “You think I’m one of the more attractive fighters?” he teases.

Your cheeks burn, and you look very seriously at the ground. “I—I mean like, um, objectively—“

He spares you. “It’s because of my tattoos. They don’t want me out there covered in Mandalorian symbology.”

“Oh,” you say, imagination kicking off. “Can I—I’m sorry, that’s so inappropriate of me. I just… like… art.” It sounds so stupid and crude, but you mean it.

“I’ll show you when I’m clean,” he says with a shrug.

He always seems to understand. It’s a comfort you’ve never known before.

When he gets out of the fresher, though, you realize you have severely overestimated yourself. Because your first thought when he steps into his room is fuck. He’s big. You know he’s big. And broad. But without a shirt on? Stars. And he’s still a little wet, his crumpled curls dripping down his shoulders.

You have got to get yourself under control. You’re pretty sure you’ve already been busted, though, because he’s suddenly looking at you, something a little dark in the lines of his face, and you feel flayed under his disapproval.

Your brain reboots in time to recover, though, as you really do take in the way his skin is bathed in black ink. A lot of it is abstract, sharp angles and curving arcs intertwining with constellations and letters in a language you don’t recognize. Some of it almost looks like smears of paint, the ink laid across his body in a manner so akin to brushstrokes that the craftsmanship is breathtaking.

But there are a few pieces that differ, ones that stand out against the intricate patterns. You realize you’ve stepped up to the gate once he does the same.

“These are incredible,” you say. “How long did this take?” You nod at the swirl of ink on his bicep that wouldn’t look out of place in your own work.

“A very long time,” he says.

“I’ve never seen anything like it. What was your first one?”

He turns around, and you’re struck by the mythosaur skull that takes up most of his back. It’s almost shimmering.

“The ink…” you start.

He turns back around. “It’s imbued with beskar.”

Your jaw drops. “It’s what?”

“It’s—I’m going to be honest, I don’t fully understand the process. But we use a small amount of molten beskar in the ink for certain tattoos. These have it, too.” He indicates the two on his front that had stood out from the rest.

“Do you mind if I ask what they are? Why they’re the ones that use beskar?”

“No,” he says casually. “They’re things that I should never be without, parts of my armor that can never be fully taken. This,” he taps the diamond-esque design on his chest, “is a beskar’ta. Every Mandalorian has one. It’s the heart.”

You’re staring, unashamed, as he indicates the other glimmering mark on his shoulder.

“This is a mudhorn, the symbol of my clan. Someday, my son will have the same one. He’s too young. Or, well. He’s…” he pauses like he can’t decide if he wants to get into this. “He’s not ready yet.”

“So… so you always have it with you. Your armor. The beskar.”

“Yes. Not everyone gets them, but many do.”

“That’s beautiful.” You’re a little speechless. Not just from the beauty of the art but the sheer idea. “That’s…”

“You can see why Gideon doesn’t want them to be seen.”

“Yeah,” you say, a small scoff slipping out. “No kidding.”

You step back, and he tugs on his shirt, ruffling his still-damp hair like nothing world-shattering has happened. And yet, the room seems to have tilted and knocked you to the side, the shift undeniable.

You don’t realize why until you remember the look on his face when he caught you staring the first time. It wasn’t discomfort. It was hunger.

It’s not a tension, exactly, that settles between you. It’s more like an acknowledgment. Something is going to change. It’s just a matter of when. And it lingers in the air for weeks.

It happens, like almost all things here, in the wake of fear.

You return to the cell before him, having fled the box as soon as his narrowest victory was called. Not that it gave you much of a head start, but you had time to grab a medpack and fresh clothes before they brought him in.

He never uses the arena freshers anymore, not even just to wash away the sticky, fresh blood. No, he’s still quite coated in it when the door snicks shut behind him, his face gaunt and haunted.

You think, at first, that he was afraid to die.

Who moves first is irrelevant. Your only focal point in the galaxy is the way he feels pressed right against you, fingers digging into your soft flesh like he’s trying to pull you into his ribcage as you embrace.

You’re not being much gentler, clinging on as you shake with unshed tears.

He lets go of your waist to clutch your face in his bloody hands. “Promise me you won’t watch.”

“What?” you say, rearing your head back to look at his furrowed brows and pouted lips.

“Don’t watch. When it happens. I don’t want you to have to see.”

Oh. “Stop,” you whisper, but he’s shaking his head.

“It’s all I could think about. Look away, and don’t find out what they do with my body. Promise me, kar’talyc.”

All that comes out is a sob when you try to argue.

His hand cups the back of your head, and he pulls you against his still-soaked chest.

Once you’ve settled a little, he pulls back but leaves his hands on your shoulders. “Promise.”

“Mando—“

“Din.”

You blink at him for a moment. “What?”

“My name is Din.”

next chapter

*Din calls her kar'talyc, which basically means "bleeding heart" (from kar'ta, meaning "heart," and talyc, meaning "bloody.") He's been calling her that in his head since the last chapter.

*tattooed Din and his mythosaur were inspired by this art by @xxlumos

*title from "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" by Tears for Fears, but I listened to the Lorde version while writing this and highly recommend it for the vibes. The original is quite a different mood lol.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #mando x you #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian fic #gladiator!din djarin #fic: live to rise

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crystalelemental · 2 years

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My wife has finished her Golden Wildfire run, and with that, all three routes are complete. It is time for my final opinions on Three Hopes.

I feel like the best indictment of this game is that the bad endings are all universally better and more interesting than the true endings. Every time. Without fail. I’ll definitely come back to this, but to set the mood: this game does not impress at all.

A big issue is an ongoing one from Three Houses: they’re really invested in making every protagonist have a point, and making this feel more open-ended in your interpretation. That’s all well and good, but this game has kinda blended viewpoints to a degree where the lords can honestly feel interchangeable at times, so they sometimes have to take a stupid position to justify a distinction. The best early-game example I can think of is Dimitri’s “The people don’t need sweeping new freedoms” line, which...man, I get that you’re talking about stability being necessary to ensure lasting change, but they way it’s presented just sounds stupid, because if you didn’t say it that way, you basically just admitted you like the principles Edelgard has in mind. And this back and forth keeps going, with shit like Edelgard talking about how she wants to capture Rhea and doesn’t feel the need to kill her, but doesn’t exactly spare much effort to capture and only subdue compared to kill. I think Claude gets hit the worst though. Before, his whole thing was being 100% in agreement with Edelgard conceptually, but disagreeing about going to war, but now he’s not only all-in on war, but actively pulls some asshole moves (that I appreciate given he’s supposed to be a schemer who never did much dubious scheming) to give the Alliance the upper hand, and consolidates a lot of power on himself as a king rather than just an appointed head of a conglomerate. But by the end of the game he’s backed off of unifying everything to insist they should all be able to exist as separate nations as long as the Church goes down, and...that’s it. The shifting goalposts are hard to keep track of, and it’s really hard to follow what the hell they want out of things by the end.

Which is a shame, because 90% of the game is really solid! Exploding new ideas and new angles to the story is fun, and seeing how things develop, and how characters interact with these new dynamics, is great to go through in the moment. But in retrospect it’s...hard to feel like this isn’t all a byproduct of FEH’s CYL results. Edelgard feels a lot less intense than usual here, with a lot of backpedaling on “Rhea has to die” rhetoric, as if to soften her in a way that wasn’t really necessary. Gatekeeper is playable, despite being a non-entity, but Cyril, who is Almyran, remains non-playable and is actually killed off in Claude’s route. Alois, who is part of Jeralt’s Mercenaries this time, and who is recruited to your side every route, is never playable. Hanneman remains unplayable, despite being the professor with the most valuable insight into the whole Crest System debate. Why? Because those three are the least popular CYL characters, and Gatekeeper won. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth just thinking about it.

But even with that in mind, the oddest part is how hard this game shafts Rhea. Three Houses didn’t give Rhea much to begin with, but at least she gets to share her history with someone in one of the routes. Here? Nothing. No one learns anything about the Nabateans, or why they’re fighting or what they’re doing. She barely interacts with anything, and again, as if more in response to fan perceptions, made the Church seem more sinister with the “hush money” thing in the intro, and having Rhea really only show up to advocate for Dimitri effectively abandoning the Kingdom to take back Garreg Mach, and hope that can undermine Edelgard. Every other iteration is just her yelling about “The land you stole from us.” Which is parroted by the Agarthans. There’s some land, and it was stolen from both, possibly in succession? Don’t worry, this will never be explained.

And here’s where we come to the biggest issue. The true ending makes no goddamn sense, answers nothing, and only compounds questions. I am fine with deep lore. I am fine with leaving some things open-ended. But this is not what’s happening. This is explaining literally nothing. What the fuck is Arval? Who was Epimenides? Why are they important, and why are they the one specifically opposed to Sothis? What the fuck are the Agarthans? What the fuck is Shez? Who was their adoptive mother? I assumed an ex-Agarthan who helped get Arval established within her, but fuck I guess we’ll never know! Why do they hate the Nabateans so much? They call the Nabateans beasts, but also humans? Zahras is supposed to be, like, a thing? What is the “rehousing of souls” as a lost art? What is the cycle of the world? What is anything? And these are the big conceptual questions. This doesn’t even touch on how the minutia of “Hey Dimitri, sorry we killed Sylvain, but we’re cool for a bit, right?” Or how Edelgard just recovers from possession amnesia brainwashing in Zahras to talk but goes right back to it afterwards. Every single thing about the true ending, from the moment Zahras is brought up, just annihilates the context and flow of what’s been happening. To call it bad is underselling it, because again, the bad endings are better! There, you just kill Sothis/Byleth! Arval is relieved, and you have your triumphant ending before moving on to your final battle! Sure, Edelgard’s route still cuts off early, but it’s still better than dealing with Zahras! And like, brief aside, but Sothis is kind of a bitch here? Like, highly antagonistic toward Byleth in a way that she never really is in Three Houses under any circumstances. I guess Arval just sets her off, but her goal seems to be reviving now instead of laying dormant and then passing on the torch. Granted, her revival still has no basis in like...helping her remaining kids who survived the whole genocide thing, but you know. It would’ve been interesting to explore that a bit? Maybe...maybe articulate that yes, we can get rid of Sothis and Arval both, or that we don’t need to destroy either, instead of “definitely destroy Epimenides, but the good ending is entirely about Sothis and Byleth surviving.” Byleth’s mary sue bullshit is so severe it even warps the spinoff game where she’s an ancillary character around her presence.

But honestly, even final confrontations make little sense. Dimitri’s gets a pass for at least being coherent and resolved, although I absolutely hate how they handle letting Edelgard live. God that’s dissatisfying. But Edelgard...like, you’re just going to assume the guy who can teleport and the dragon survived a big fall? Byleth survived that fall. What the hell do you mean that’s the end of the game? Though again, Claude gets it worst, because they really lean into his whole thing about wanting to dismantle the Church.

Why? No really. What the hell is the Church that it needs to be dismantled? We really never get much insight to this. The Crest System is cited, but that’s upheld by the nobility more than the Church itself. There’s stuff like the church limiting human development, but a lot of things they said were banned exist in the Church, like Hanneman wearing glasses and Manuela performing autopsies. Almost everything about the Church that’s supposed to be this inherent problem...isn’t. It’s directly contradicted elsewhere, and if the organization’s practices can’t be made clear enough to indicate problematic, then we can only turn to the direct actions of those who work for the church. So you know. The people who took in the refugees from Remire, and try to operate a school that anyone can attend (granted, tuition costs make that impossible for some, and this is a big point Ferdinand brings up, but I digress). Aside from Rhea’s intensity, which I would argue is 100% justified as a survivor of a genocide carried out by people using your kin’s bones as weapons, the Church doesn’t seem all that diabolical. At worst, it’s something like the hush money; a perfectly reasonable level of political fuckery. Margrave Gautier proposes worse than that. Claude carries out worse than that when he lets allies in the Empire die for personal profit. It just feels like the Fodlan games wanted so badly to develop this idea of “All sides have a good point” that they over-extended and made everything too minimally problematic for Edelgard to have a serious leg to stand on. And when Claude jumps on that same bandwagon this hard, I think it’s a bit more pronounced. Edelgard at least had the personal ties to her own trauma and how that projects where it does, but Claude? All he ever had was “The church forbids foreign contact,” but fucking explain Petra. Explain Dedue. There’s constant outside contact!

My bottom line here is this: Three Hopes is fan pandering without substance. It’s a game designed around CYL results and fan interpretations rather than coherence. Sometimes, it works out, like confirming the Teacher Replacement Theory was real, and was a means to try and save Monica to rout the Agarthans early. But sometimes, it’s just softening Edelgard to be more “likeable,” and trying to villainize the Church’s actions more, and making Gatekeeper playable while ignoring the potential involvement Cyril may have with Almyra. Not that Almyra mattered; Claude’s route had exactly two chapters focused on them, on the same map, around one (1) prince guy, and nothing else was discussed or given meaning about this other nation or his ambition surrounding them. No time to actually think or develop the real big questions Three Houses left, we’re just here to shit out another Fodlan product with the lords on it. This game is our cash cow like Awakening and Fates used to be, but bigger, and just like with those two, we refuse to try to do better with anything designed to milk that profit.

God I’m salty. It was such a good start, I was so hopeful, but this game is a complete disaster.

#fire emblem three hopes

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

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Summary: Y/N's feeling icky about her body, but Harry loves her to bits and pieces, through thick and thin, in health and sick — and he always waits for her to come back to him.

TW: Body dysmorphia.

Y/N's healthy.

All she sucks in is having a sane sleeping schedule due to her UNI otherwise she eats natural goodies, cook and bake home because it comforts her more that way and she works out every evening to stay fit.

Sometimes though, she’s lazy and lacks behind which’s proper humane but deep down it effects her and her mental health more than she admits and she isn’t able to start over again – it mostly happens after her periods.

Harry loves her the way she’s.

Even if she’s clumsy, bumbling, procrastinating, overly enthusiastic to mend her life at 3 am, snotty and sloth-y in her periods, confident and positive around people, kind and loving whenever she comes to meet him, whiny and cuddly when she’s sick, jealous and grumpy with his attention not on her —- he loves her in every way possible, to rivers and to sea his love could never stutter for her ever.

He loves how she’s not overly toned, having soft squishy spots which Harry undeniably wants to admire and kiss shamelessly amount of times -- like -- her plummy pretty thighs that Harry likes to nestle his head in-between making her wriggle and squirm under his grasp, her overly cute tummy that Harry dies to pepper sweet adoring kisses and petal his lips round her belly button, everytime they’re cuddled up his bicep’s always looped her around her tummy to feel it rising up and down in calm rhythm, and oh! her tender titties, they’re actually his favourite babies and he loves to fondle them in his big calloused palms brushing his thumb over the sensitive perky nub and basks in the glittery whimpery mewls of hers.

He loves that she’s curvy and gives zero fucks if she’s skinny or not.

He thinks his baby’s perfect.

So perfect he actually feels the bubbling of devotion and affection filling to the brim of his heart’s chambers and leaking out and upon his ribs tickling him.

Y/N's his person and he worships her with his whole heart.

From some days though, she’s feeling devastatingly insecure about all her things Harry’s in love with and she has no-control over it how much she tries.

Harry’s observing that all with optimism (one of his great quality's that like a lion sly about his prey, he keeps an eye on everything but pretends otherwise). He has his intense gaze fixed on her when she’s taking a look of herself in the mirror for rather too long, running her hands down her body and practically shuddering.

He glances from over his laptop and drops everything he's doing watching her go monkies, sweating buckets and over exercising than her usual time.

He brings her closer and infront of him, pressing her to his chest and coiling his forearm around her shoulders whining a, “Baby..!” when they were brushing their teeth and despite of standing beside him and teasing him occasionally like she usually does she stuffs her face into the crest of his back and hides herself there to have minimal contact with her reflection in the mirror.

Her body dysmorphia spiking dangerously high.

“Deprived me of your cuddles. woke me up so early, granny.” She huffs lying through her teeth and how much his embrace was strong enough to keep her in place she still managed to wiggle out taking her previous cosy position, but he could feel her muscles tensing and an awkward silence falling over them.

He didn’t pry much. He wants to give her as much space as she requires to come back to him hale and hearty, as she always does and whatever happens he never forgets to remind her how much he loves her every night.

They were watching rom-coms on Netflix back to back with her curled up into his side with a spongy white wool knitted blanket thrown over them and his cheek was smashed atop her head popping in peanuts every now and then when out of certain she spoke pointing at the actress, “You know she got her ribs removed to get that shrinky waist.” Harry frowned at that. His face itching into disbelief and concern under the bouncing glow of telly.

He affixes his gaze down at her trying to read what’s cooking up in that genius brain of her's which isn’t being very rational and genius right now, they immediately turns soft and caring when she blinks up at him purely.

She squeaks, nose crashing against his collarbones when he scooches her up in his lap grabbing onto her knees to make her straddle his torso and he grumbles cutely when she tries not put all of her weight on him and doesn’t melts into him as his sweet lovie would used to do receiving a smack on her bum on his end.

He’s afraid that an evil version of her chomped onto his dear baby alive.

“Nothing else matters if all ye’ organs are packed safely and healthily inside you,” He tells her brushing loose frays of her hair behind her earlobe and rubs his thumb in gentle strokes over her treacly pulsing point, “Was just telling you ...” She mumbles, dotting touches on his knuckles and playing with his bare cold fingers.

It’s true, she was rambling out facts about the movie and cast out of habit because no-way she’d ever go through any surgeries to change herself to become someone she isn’t.

“Swear!” She yawps out in convincing high pitch when Harry squints down at her with his lips scrunched, one eye twitching in doing so.

“Alrighty. I believe you.” He cradles her cheeks in his palms and brings her mighty close to him to peck her cupid bow, then her bottom lip and the corners of her smiling mouth to suckle generous amount of whines from her and then kisses her lovingly – hands streaming down her spine and then resting atop her dip.

He thought she was ready to come back to him, to share her problem with him and Harry really wanted to bug in, to not let her fight her battle alone and take half of her hardships from her fretting self but guess not.

They were about to have sex when panic seeped in Y/N's eyes and her cheeks blazed up in that of embarrassment as she rushed to switch off the lamps that were the only source of light in their room.

“Moppet.” Harry sighed, knowing exactly what’s happening and she isn’t as foxy in covering it up as she’s thinking herself to be.

“Why wouldn’t y'want me t'see gorgeous self of yours?” His tone punctured and hurt, feeling useless for not knowing how to cheer her up and break her worries down. He smoothens his hands behind her to lock his arm around her waist, fingertips making grape sized indents into the flesh of her hip-bone as she streaks the tip of her nose up and down the crook of his neck, murmuring meekly against his salty skin while he hugs her warmly.

“’M just feelin’ shy.” He giggles at her response puckering his lips against her hairline to pet tiny, tiny kisses there as she fists her hands against his taught chest.

“Not somethin’ I haven’t seen before, love bug.” He blows raspberries against the underside of her jaw and their mouths meet into a messy, giggling, teeth clanking kiss when she sinks into pillows allowing him to cocoon her in his heat.

“I love you, Y/N. No matter what.”

The last dam breaker for them was this little get together at Sarah and Mitch's baby shower.

She matched her outfit with Harry. Cute lavender coloured little sweater blouse that was familiar to the baggy baby yarn cardigan Harry was wearing, it accentuated her curves and her bosom so prettily -- her midriff peeking from where the buttons weren’t closed and their jeans were painted (they did it themselves one Sunday when it was extra boring and inactive).

Y/N felt uncomfortable in her own clothes. A bitterness spreading inside her for herself and all she wanted was to escape away from her own skin.

She knows she’s loved and welcomed and cherished by her friends and family and the love of her life, most importantly. Then why was she feeling so icky about herself? Why everything's draining her and exhausting her?

Harry obviously could see through the gloomy tenebrous energy overshadowing her as he stood in the corner of the room grabbing the sorbet he poured in two glasses for them.

A sour guzzle of tears choking his throat and his limbs weakening letting the painful heartbreak seep into him when he watches her being fidgety and fiddling with the loops of her jeans, tugging her blouse every passing second and he’s sniffling a hiccup deep in his lungs when she shrinks into herself in dejection staring out of the window without any purpose.

Harry feels awful to startle her when he plops down beside her, coodling her closer to himself and tucks her head beneath his chin subtly and cups his palm under her jaw to make her look in eyes his eyes.

“Hi beautiful,” His tone had a saddening waver in it and his irises mossed bleak when Y/N remains unresponsive, zoning in and out of her own head feeling herself prisoned into her own invasive thoughts.

“You w'na go home darling?” He gives her a wet smile clearing his throat and blinking the stubborn moisture in his eyes away when Y/N nodded without any vivid expression.

All the way back home he denounced himself of not making her feel loved enough, to not to pest her soon about what she’s feeling and letting her slide deeper into the dark hole.

He thinks he’s a piece of shit.

Y/N wanted to dig the earth with her own nails and hide into it and never show her face again, she was overly ashamed of herself.

His hand was holding onto hers tightly, never letting it go as he led them through the hallway and his head perked up in confusion when she stopped them abruptly and lunged to wrap herself around him like he’s the last silver of her hope and the reason to live.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry.” There comes the first sob after ages of suffering and bottling it all in, not shocked at all he was expecting it to happen. Gently he picks her up and wraps her legs around him, keeping his support firm under her bum as she cried into his soft white t-shirt.

Carefully he sits them on the edge of the bed and tries to pry her soaky flushed face in his cradle but she refuses to show him, clutching onto his cardigan and whimpering brokenly.

“I just feel so disgusting,” Her sob scratches out of her throat and for a second he thought he heard her wrong, that her feeble crying’s playing some kind of a sick game with his heart.

“Harry do something I don’t want to feel disgusting.” But, when she pleaded helplessly a cold shiver settled in his bone marrow spreading an agonising burn in his stomach.

Gently he stirs her away from his chest to look at her, meeting their foreheads together while his thumb wiped her tears away and smoothed over her wabbly lips in profound tenderness.

“My beloved,” He whispers fondling his nose against hers and her eyes flutters into realm of calms, shaky breath falling over his lips as he brings her trembling fingertips towards them and pecks them feverishly.

“The love of me life, me heart.” He continues, “Shhh. Shh baby ‘s okay to cry but don’t tire y'self.” He hushes her when she whimpers loudly at his coy affirmation.

“I’m here with you, waiting f'you, watching y’goin’ through a stony path so I could be there to hold you whenever you trip –-,” He pets her hair, cupping the back of her neck to plant his lips bitten red from worry to her puffy damp eyelids and Y/N becomes a gooey lax of candle that’s been burning for tiring amount and finally her lover came to blew the agonising flame away putting her to peace as he coos snuggling her in his cordial embrace, “You’ve been so strong to yourself and ‘m so proud of me baby.”

“I’m always here. Never away from you, always right by y'side.” His palms bending around her ribs to smush her as intimately close as possible.

“How d'ya want your huggies babylove?” He simpers down at her darlingly, huffing out in relief seeing her relaxing -- her shoulders sinking from him massaging the knots in them.

“Tight.” She mumbles timidly. The gleam in her glossy eyes returning when Harry hugs her as she wished, squishing her in right places and not suffocating her at all – their breaths in sync chests flushed against eachother.

“I love you cuddly, and care f’you.” He kisses her on lips then goes to hug her right back.

“I love you too, Har. Thank you.” She sniffs in his woodsy scent grazing her touch up and down his back, smooching a soft kiss at his cheek.

#ME WRITING AN OVERLY EMOTIONAL AND SELF DESTRUCTING PIECE #yahoooooooo yipeee #soft tender harry lives in my heart rent free #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagines #harry styles dirty one shotsssss #harry styles one direction #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry angst #harry styles #cute harry #dirty harry styles imagines #harry styles fluff imagine #harry smut #fluff #hsh #dom harry

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pitaparka · 3 years

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when you sleep with him for the first time headcanons

note—it gets a little suggestive during oberyn's part, but nothing too crazy. i use sleep here in it's purest form by the way, so enjoy! let me know if you have any ideas for the next one! me and the boys are open to suggestions ;)

MANDO

- mando has always allowed you his bunk to sleep, whenever you like

- when you stayed with him on the razor crest and watched the kid, he was always more than willing to give it up anytime you needed sleep

- he didn't sleep much anyway, and usually your sleeping schedules didn't overlap

- but boba fett's ship doesn't have much space to begin with, let alone enough space for all of the crew mates he's happened to find recently

- which mean's you and mando, having already been living together and already know each other, were sleeping together, in the same small bunk, at the same time

- he offered to sleep on the floor, or pressed up against the wall

- but you got mad at him for even suggesting such a thing

- there was more than enough space for the two of you to sleep, you argued, though there was barely enough room for one

- it was comical, trying to press up against him, and find a spot comfortable enough for the both of you to lay

- it was jarring to you when he removed a single pauldron for you to rest your head on his clothed shoulder

- you felt like you had violated him in some way, seeing him just the lightest bit more bare than usual

- though you were slightly uncomfortable from the rest of the beskar pressing up into your body, you were lulled to sleep in minutes from the sound of his steady heartbeat

EZRA

- the cots had never been a long term solution

- that you knew

- so when the morning comes around, and your cot drops your ass on the floor, you wish you gotten new sleeping arrangements the last time you were in town

- you were just wishing it had taken longer for them to fall apart the way they had

- there wasn't much on the green, in terms of furnishing markets

- the cots had been the only barrier between you and the floor, and now, there was nothing protecting you from the frigid, uninsulated ground of your broken down ship

- it was ezra who offered up the idea: put one blanket down on the floor, and use the other one to cover the both of you with

- you took a second to ponder it, thinking of any idea, any reason that could be used to save you from having to sleep next to ezra, the man who had been so warm and kind to you, but you had frozen him out, because of your ridiculous crush on him

- you offered up the idea of just disassembling the cots and using the cloths as protection from the cold

- but this wiseass pulls out the cloth from the cot and his blanket and compares the two, and there's no way the cloth is going to have any integrity making contact with the ground

- so you agree, and when nightfall comes, you're too exhausted from harvesting all day to fight with him

- he puts his blanket down as protection, and you all but collapse on top of in

- ezra does you the service of tucking you in, before climbing in next to you, and you're soothed by his warmth

- not soothed enough that you fall asleep immediately, still unnerved by the idea of sleeping so close to him, hearing him breathe, feeling him move

- but he throws his good arm over your body and pulls you into him, muttering something about the cold

- and your heart melts just a little bit as you fall asleep, pressed up against his chest

FRANKIE

- frankie had been upset for weeks after his divorce, which was to be expected

- but everything had been so stressful on him, and you were getting worried for his mental health

- he hadn't been answering calls, he'd cancelled plans with you last minute, which is something he never did, and he hadn't been doing anything for himself, just living in a rut of paperwork, sleeping, eating, and going to work

- so when he calls you up to ask you to go camping with him, you obviously say yes

- it's almost a two hour drive to the campsite, and frankie is fairly quite, which isn't usual, but you get some good music going and some good conversation going, and soon enough, you and frankie are laughing and singing your heads off on your way there

- it's getting dark when you arrive, and you make quick work of getting everything out of his car when he realizes something is off

- "oh no" he exclaims, and you fear the worst

- "what? what's wrong?"

- "I brought the small tent."

- "how small is the small tent?"

- "i brought the four-person tent, not the ten person tent."

- "are you kidding frankie? i'm sure we'll fit in a four-person—“

- "i'm telling you, it's not as big as you think it is, trust me."

- when the tent is complete, four-person is an exaggeration

- it's a four-person tent if the four-people were sardine packed and the size of children

- it's going to be just enough room for both you and frankie to lie down in with your sleeping bags

- but that's for a later time, because frankie has marshmallows to roast and lots of things to tell you after he's been ignoring you for a whole week

- he apologizes and you sit next to him at the firepit on your site, and you listen to him talk, and give him advice, and rest your head on his shoulder

- and when it's late into the night and you two go to retreat to bed, you have to squish up against his broad shoulders that seem so much broader in the small tent

- and when he wakes with nightmares of his fighting buddies and far too many sleepless nights, he pulls you close to him, and falls asleep again, until the sunlight streams through the front flap of the tent far too early in the morning

WHISKEY

- that day’s mission was harsh

- it had you spent, not only physically, but mentally as well

- as you lie awake in your bed, you realize you’re not getting to sleep tonight, whether or not you had another important mission that morning

- the hotel bed was creaky and entirely not your bed from home and the air conditioner was broken so it was freezing

- you figure there’s no better time than the present, and you’re well aware whiskey is right next door

- if he’s awake, you’ll ask him to have a drink with you, and if he’s asleep, you can just hop into bed with him

- he’s a deep sleeper anyway

- you’re careful turning the knob into his room, just in case he’s asleep, and you spot him in his bed, on his side, breathing softly, room cloaked in darkness

- you come around on his side of the bed and you whisper his name

- he stirs a little

- you debate going back to your room and just toughing it out, but he doesn’t give you the chance

- he’s up, groggy and hair tousled and in just a plain t-shirt

- “sweetheart? what are you doin’ here? what’s goin’ on?”

- you tell him you didn’t want to sleep alone tonight, and he wipes the sleep from his eyes and squints at you, using only the moonlight to help him see

- “what kind of gentleman would i be if i refused you my bed?”

- this makes you smile, and he lifts the covers for you to get in with him

- you plant your head on his shoulder and drape an arm over his chest, cozying up to him as close as possible

- his hand rests comfortably on your back, and he breathes rhythmically

- and you’re silently grateful he doesn’t ask questions, just lets you curl up into his side ands lets you fall asleep with him there

JAVIER PEÑA

- it happened in a flurry of passion and kisses, hands roaming his body and yours after a far too close dance with death

- if it had not been for his bulletproof vest, he'd be lying in a hospital or a morgue

- but he wasn't

- his body was warm and so was yours and the ride to his apartment was far too quiet for your liking and his

- it was only appropriate you accompanied him for a drink after such a great victory for the DEA, but it had taken a toll on both of you, mentally

- you more so than him, which is why you ended up drinking much more than you normally would have when you drank with javi

- he tried to laugh away the stress, complaining about his sore and bruised ribs, but the room was still tense

- emotions ran rampant through your body, and when he brings it up, tears start to pool in your eyes at the thought seeing him for the last time, in a suit, at his own funeral he wouldn't attend if he had the choice

- he sets his drink down and pulls you into his arms, holding your waist and cupping the back of your neck, stroking behind your ear as he listens to you cry softly in his shoulder

- he reassures you he's fine, nothing happened to him, and you pull away from him, grab his face, and stare into his eyes

- he smiles kindly at your own red ringed eyes, irritated from crying, as you try to memorize each streak of brown in his own

- it's too much for the both of you, and you pull him into a kiss

- his mouth is surprisingly soft compared to your own drunk passion, and as much as he'd love to take you right then and there on his couch, he knows he'd regret it if you woke up the next morning and regretted it too

- so he entertains the kiss, not that he minds, and leads you to his bedroom

- where the silk sheets and heavy comforter that smell so strongly of javier peña pull you to sleep next to him, faster than you'd like to admit

MARCUS MORENO

- missy and your daughter had always gotten along very well

- you were very familiar with marcus, and could even call yourselves friends to an extent

- your daughters were very intelligent little girls, and knew that if they got the two of you talking when you came to pick your daughter from his house, they would have at least another hour to play while you two chatted endlessly about boring adult things

- for missy's birthday party, she had wanted all of her friends over for a huge sleepover, and of course her father caved

- he couldn't say no to her no matter how much he tried

- marcus, the genius he was, figured that if the kids were all under one roof having fun, why not let the adults have fun too?

- everyone was invited

- the kids would have lots of different fun activities to choose from, from swimming, to games in the backyard, and a movie night under the stars outside

- and the adults were welcome to stay, chat, drink, and play adult card games marcus had saved for special occasions

- the night of the sleepover, a dozen children and adults were packed into his backyard, watching some new movie he had rented the missy was excited about

- but it was freezing, and you hadn't expected to be outside for so long

- marcus realizes this and he leans over quietly, so not to disturb the movie

- "are you cold?"

- "oh! no, it's okay, i'll be fine—“ you try to excuse yourself, but he gets up without a word, and returns with a sweatshirt of his

- it fits snugly over your head, and completely eliminated the chill in your bones

- it doesn't take long for your eyes to start getting heavy, and soon enough, you're passed out on marcus' shoulder

- "what if we camp out here for the night?" he suggests, and the kids are more than excited

- the adults know what he's up to

- but they let him anyway

- it'll be great to tease him about later, and besides, you guys are adorable together

MARCUS PIKE

- working together with marcus was always a joy

- he was always very respectful and funny

- you knew he had his heart broken more than once in the past, so even though you dropped hints that you'd want something more with marcus, you let him take it at his own pace

- when you dropped by his place that night, with important new documents you had received right before you left work and chinese food, you're ecstatic when he lets you in

- you spend hours pouring over the documents, making sure every single detail was covered and examined, when you realize how tired you are, and how loud the rain is coming down outside his window

- "it's getting really late. i should leave," you say, but marcus stops you

- "you could always, y'know, stay the night if you wanted. i'd let you have my bed."

- you smiled at him, but politely decline, as you wouldn't want to kick him out of his bed, but you yawn again

- "look, you're exhausted, and it's pouring" he points out, "you know most accidents happen by people falling asleep behind the wheel when it's raining?"

- you laugh at him

- "you just made that up,"

- "i did, but you should stay. if you don't want to i totally understand, but you'd be missing out. my bed is really comfortable."

- "is that why you're always late to work?" you quip, and close the files

- he gasps in mock shock

- "that was one time, and my alarm didn't go off," he claims, smiling at you

- he lends you a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and you pretend to not see a slight blush on his face when you walk out into his bedroom with them on

- marcus was right when he said his bed was really comfortable

- somehow, in the middle of the night, you two find each other, his face pressed into your shoulder, your arms wrapped around him, and the rain comes down even harder

MAX PHILLIPS

- "i just need some space from him, is all."

- that's all you had to tell him for max phillips to be on your side, rubbing your shoulder and telling you that all men suck anyway, you didn't need that jerk of a boyfriend to be happy

- well, now ex-boyfriend

- of course he had ulterior motives, and you knew this, but you didn’t care

- your heart wanted someone to watch movies with and eat a pint of ice cream out of the tub with you, and if max was the one who would do that, you’d settle with him for the night

- the way he pulled you into his arms, and pressed his body up against yours, was more than comforting

- he made funny jokes, tried tickling you, anything he could think of to get you to smile for him

- and for the most part, you did

- you were sick of your ex bringing the mood down the way he did, no matter how much you missed him

- the movie has gotten boring a long time ago, but you listened to max’s breathing, and felt his chest rise and fall behind you, and it was enough to lull you to sleep

- and he would’ve woken you up, to take you to his bed, but he was scared you’d leave to go home if he did

- so he took his couch throw, pulled it over the two of you, turned off the television, and settled back as you got comfortable on his chest

- this was a side of max phillips you’d never seen before, and you didn’t expect to see any time soon

- so you relished in it, and let sleep pull you in

MAXWELL LORD

- his head aches, and his eye is still bleeding on the plane back to washington d.c.

- the ride back is silent, save for the rumbling of the engine

- he rests his head against the wall of the airplane for most of the ride there, and you take comfort in knowing while he’s asleep, he’s not in pain

- when he starts getting restless, having what you think is a nightmare, you start holding his hand, stroking your thumb up and down his soft skin

- it takes him a minute, but he calms down, and you don’t let go of his hand

- with nothing to do but watch him sleep, you decide taking a nap too would be your best option

- which is when the plane hits a particularly rough patch of turbulence

- he bounces awake, nervous and alert, and you tell him it’s just the plane, everything’s fine

- when you pull him into your shoulder, he takes the opportunity to fall back asleep

- you can feel the tension in his neck just by having him rest his head on your shoulder

- you keep a firm grip on his hand, when your own eyes start to get heavy

- your head rests on his, and the rest of the ride there is smooth and painless

OBERYN MARTELL

- he had been pursuing you for quite some time

- as the second son of a king, he was more than accustomed to people saying yes to appease him

- he was forward with you, and you were forward back with him, and he liked that

- it was your words that told him you weren't looking for anything long term, that if he were to pleasure you, and you him, he would be nothing more than a simple one night stand

- boy did he prove you wrong

- your legs were so weak afterward, you couldn't bare to get up

- he took incredibly good care of you, squeezing your sore thighs and rubbing your aching muscles, pressing kisses up and down your back, brushing the hair out of your face

- it only increased your attraction to him when he brought in more people, caring for them and having them care for you, and by the time you had finished, you felt as though you couldn't physically go another round that night

- he purred in your ear that every night with him would be a night like this, and you whined back, making him grin and capture your mouth in a passionate kiss

- you didn't mean to fall sleep with him, but all the nibbling bites at your ear and the serotonin coursing through your veins had you spent for the night

- he let you sleep, and even stayed for a while before being summoned for an important meeting

- you made a mental note that eventually, you two would need to do that again, because you slept like a baby the whole night through

PERO TOVAR

- it's below freezing when you settle down for sleep that night

- no matter how much wind the tent tried to keep out, it just wasn't enough

- you're bundled up in all the clothes you had brought with you, the only blanket that could be spared, anything that could try to keep you warm, but nothing’s working

- the cold just bleeds through the blanket and your clothes, into your legs and chest and bones so that you can’t fall asleep if you tried

- you figure the only way you’ll be able to get any rest to be ready for the next day, is to go find a warmer place to sleep

- if the fire’s still going, you’ll rest there

- you shiver as you pick up your things, but your interrupted by tovar, who comes in with a thick fur blanket wrapped around his shoulders

- “where are you going?”

- “i was just going to sleep next to the fire,” you say, trying to keep the chill out of your voice

- “it’s going to be cold tonight. lay down.” he instructs, and you oblige

- he lays the blanket down over you and climbs underneath it next to you, so that your shoulders touch and watch him for a second before he turns over and tries to go to sleep without a word

- you pull the blanket up to your shoulders and you feel ten times warmer already, but it’s the heat from tovar that really entices you

- so you push back against him, your back against his, and fall asleep with the warmth of his muscles against yours

978 notes · View notes

no-droids · 3 years

Note

Ch 17 was so, so, so good (thank you!!) 🥺 i am still processing. ((Edit: this turned into an essay so i Am Very Sorry in advance, there is a tldr at the end though))

First of all. We get to see Din going through it the same way sweet girl was a couple chapters ago and I love it! She’s been so clear from the start that she doesn’t want to run away from him and now Din’s getting to the point where he doesn’t want to chase her anymore because he just wants her to be physically there with him again. The second night of comms while she’s camped out at the orphanage?? “I thought this was going to be alright, but I hate it.” ??????????? i am a Puddle of Emotions no one look at me 😭

And then the way he’s so unsure about whether she hasnt begun to reconsider wanting to keep up with his bounty-hunter life now that she’s finally gotten a break if being forced to outrun a mandalorian can be really even be called a break for the first time in a year?? And he can SEE all the places she’s stopped to talk to people on this planet (his comment about the number of times the blond guy turned around to talk to her in the line? 🥺.) Din knows she’s enjoying these small encounters with people, getting to interact with a new planet and learn new things as she’s making her way through each place, and since they’re only talking at night he gets to think about it literally all day long as he follows her trail and tries to figure out what her plan is. This is truly an exercise in Din thinking nonstop about sweet girl (which ofc he does already, but like, thinking critically about what she thinks/wants/does/needs and why) and I feel like that’s causing him to slowly start to second guess himself in terms of where he would put himself on sweet girl’s list of priorities. And I wonder how much of this he’s actually considering for the first time? because it’s always him who leaves and comes back when he gets jobs — this is the first time that sweet girl has left him instead of the other way around. Sweet girl has had tons of time to think about these things, whereas Din hasn’t really had to... because it’s not the one who leaves who feels the absence most, it’s the one who’s left behind (even if just temporarily).

I can just picture Din’s increasing doubts as the chase keeps going, whether he’s worth putting up with his lifestyle and whether sweet girl wouldn’t rather have a life like the people he sees in the footprints around hers? because he knows her, knows she likes soft beds and meeting people and fresh fruit and beautiful scenery, which are all things that living on the razor crest can’t always provide except for the last one bc Din Djarin IS beautiful scenery let’s be clear and just. the ANGST. I cannot. ( a n d meanwhile sweet girl is having a breakdown thinking he wants to STOP looking and LEAVE her? As if)

So when she shuts down his tentative doubts about it on the second night she’s at the orphanage and Din starts asking questions about favorite animals and flowers and things?? 🥺🥺🥺🥺 I lost it. Din is mirroring the love and care he receives from sweet girl (and learning to tap into those emotions as he does) and I am just in awe of both his character development from ch 1 to here and your ability to show that gradual shift in your writing.

Tl;dr thank you very much for this latest chapter! I will continue to be a soft emotional little puddle for the foreseeable future, or at least until I can figure out to scrape myself off the floor and function like a human being who has not just read rough day ch 17 and promptly dissolved as a direct result🌻

okay

okay first of all ma’am/sir/friend, please do not put tl;dr’s on a fucking MASTERFUL DISSECTION LIKE THAT like I genuinely hope people read every word of what you have written because you’re so spot on about everything that I was almost taken aback JEJFJJDJFJF

I would like to say, and I need to do this in list form because you have presented so many beautiful points that I’d like to address them one by one,

1.) Din Djarin is used to being alone. Full stop. Like even with sweet girl helping out with the baby and agreeing to stay on the ship while he goes and grabs quarry, he’s gone for weeks sometimes. He is used to being by himself, to fending for himself, protecting himself, patching himself up, EVERYTHING by himself. He is the most independent self-sufficient driven bounty hunter Karga has on the payroll and he’s reliable, which is why Karga would give him four pucks at a time. Giving anyone else four pucks would mean that if they happened to die during their hunts, then more than one puck would be lost and that’s money down the drain. Din doesn’t die, he always comes back with all four bodies and he’s fucking quick about it. Him telling sweet girl “I thought this was gonna be alright” is apt, because he’s been able to exist without her and do good work while he knows she’s safe on the Crest. In fact, the only time he EVER didn’t do good work is when a) she was attacked on the Crest on Corellia, or b) when he desperately wanted to get back to her as quick as possible and he pushed himself too hard and put himself in danger (aka frozen on Hoth scene). And actually c) when he stole Grogu back from the empire and had Karga and the guild on his ass about it. Those were the only times Din had trouble doing his job. The only times he stopped looking and gave up. “I thought this was going to be alright, but I hate it” means that YES ABSOLUTELY DIN DJARIN DOES NOT LIKE STAYING PUT WHILE SHE LEAVES, even though he’s okay with going out and doing his job when she stays. Even though he’s still hunting, it’s like the roles have been reversed. She’s understanding his side, and he’s understanding her side. It’s been 4 days and he hates it, so imagine weeks or months of that. Not being able to move or chase after her either, just hanging out on the crest with Grogu and waiting to see if she’ll be able to make it back. Which

2.) makes it hurt just a lil more in that wonderful delicious angsty way when he actually asks if she wants this life. On Naboo, he didn’t know where she went or where the kid was—he didn’t know if they were in danger, if she was safe. He said he’d rip the galaxy apart to find her if she ever disappeared like that again. But... she’d be safe on Sanctuary II. This is different, and just like you said, he’s had multiple days where all he did was try to think like her. Get in her head, predict her. Understand her more than he’s ever attempted to do before, in a NECESSARY capacity, like he would a bounty he’s hunting. Din Djarin is used to being alone. He’s used to being silent and that’s how connections are severed before they can even be established. His only practice at empathy was through his job, a job that he is very very good at, but it was never enough to get him to stop looking. He would never be able to empathize enough to ask if the bounty wanted him to stop looking for them. Even with the baby, he turned him in at first and then let the guilt eat him alive before going back to save him. So, if you couple that with his true connection to sweet girl, the natural empathy he has for her and the kid (him immediately following her after he accidentally snapped at her on the Crest and apologizing) and Din is now TRULY beginning to understand her on a level he’s never experienced with another person

3.) BUT!!! Even though he “needed to ask” (meaning he understood enough to know that asking the question was necessary) he started out the entire conversation by admitting he doesn’t think he could do it. Before ever telling her what specifically he doesn’t think he could do, he already knows this about himself and says it flat out. I don’t think I could. Even if you asked me to, even if you said you’d be happier if I did, even if you told me right now that it’s what you wanted, I don’t think I could ever stop looking. And a lot of the turmoil he experiences is because of that. I make you sleep on the floor. I teach you to fight when you just want to look at waterfalls. I do all these things that you’d never willingly do yourself, and I’m a bad person BECAUSE I still want you to always be here with me in spite of all that.

4.) Meanwhile sweet girl just has no fucking clue all this is happening and it seems to come out of nowhere, all she knows is that he’s been in the city when he should’ve caught up to her days ago. She’s out experiencing things and meeting new people and yet she always comes back to Din and the baby and how much they should be here with her. She tries to come up with clever ways to outthink him but she also offers to give her coordinates to him practically every single night. Her wanting to be with him so bad but trying to hold out (“ask me again tomorrow”) while Din is also wanting to be with her so bad and also trying to hold out (“find her again tomorrow”) 🥺

So yeah basically in conclusion I love them together and they’re so different but they make each other somehow both stronger and softer in so many ways and yeah u mighta heard of DD/LG u kinky fucks but lemme present to u DD/SG

#ask #anon #I am so sorry I rambled so long jshdjdjdjddh #rough day spoilers

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Text

The General (part 9): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: nothing is the way it was before. there is no future; there is no past. all there is... is nothing.

wc: 2.1k

tw: light gore

masterlist

“She’s not gonna eat; I already told you that.”

The sounds of Kaori and Toji fighting just outside of your door leak into your room, but you’re beyond caring. Megumi sits beside you in the sun-lit room, eyes scanning the outdoors, looking for any sign of an animal. You’re tucked underneath a warm, thick blanket, despite the temperature outside being warm enough to cause a little sweat. No, things were better this way.

When you had come to after blacking out, Toji, Kaori, and Megumi were hovering over you, trying to figure out what to do about the General’s untimely passing. But in the two months since, no one had quite figured out how to bring you back to life. The only thing they could do is watch you slowly waste away and become a shell of your former self.

Your parents suspect it’s because your princely husband had not sent for you since the war had ended, and you’re grieving a supposed loss. But neither Kaori nor Toji had the heart to admit that this loss wasn’t supposed. It was real.

Your days are spent in your bed or in the garden behind the house, mind empty as Megumi attempts to watch over you and possibly even cheer you up by play-fighting with his father. But more often than not, you’re reduced to tears, and Toji fetches Kaori because he “can’t deal with crying women”.

“My lady?” The head maid enters into your room with an orange and onigiri in her hands. “I brought you some fresh fruit from the market. Hamai sends her regards as well.” Hamai - Yuta’s sister and wife of Yuko - had also attempted to visit you, but her grief motivated her to knock on your door, and you couldn’t bear to think of Yuta or Nanami or--

“Thank you,” you croak, and she nods, handing Megumi the two onigiri.

“Your father said you’d better eat these or he’ll never--”

“‘Feed me again’. I know,” Megumi chants monotonously and takes the rice balls from her hands. “Thank you, Kaori-san.”

“Are you sure you don’t want any visitors?” Kaori asks for the third time. You cut your eyes to her, attempting a glare. “Hamai would love to come and--”

“Listen, the lady said no visitors,” Toji gripes, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. “I’ve been fighting off a ton of measly looking men who have nothing to say except ‘I’ve come to see Lady y/n’ and honestly, if you invite another person to this damn place, I’ll kill them on the spot.”

You roll away from the two people and look out of the window, remaining silent as Megumi eats his onigiri and stares at the bears and tigers in his book. Kaori and Toji retreat, restarting their squabble as soon as the door closes, leaving you to think about nothing and no one.

_______________________________________________________________________

You’re in the garden when Megumi runs up to you, holding a light pashmina to cover your shoulders in the chill of fall.

“Careful, you might get sick,” he warns, and you accept the article with a smile.

“Thank you, sweet one.” The child climbs onto the bench you’re seated on, swinging his legs while you stare at the shishi-odoshi in silence. You’re suddenly reminded of the three other sweet children you left back at the camp, and before you can begin to sob out loud, your hand flies to your mouth.

“Hey,” Toji appears from the house, hands deep in his pockets as he surveys the area. “You alright?”

“Just fine,” you whisper, pushing back tears and grief all at once. “I just needed some peace and quiet.”

“Yeah, gardens will give you that.” Toji stands beside the fountain and stares into the water for a moment before turning to Megumi. “There’s a frog out by the lake if you’re interested in--” Megumi hops down from the bench and disappears around the corner in a flash, abandoning you without a worry in the world. You sigh, watching him fade into the distance, and then turn to Toji, who is already staring at you with some unreadable expression.

“What is it?” you grumble, blinking slowly.

“Nothing, just…” Toji presses his lips together and looks sky-ward, thinking about his next words carefully. “I know you feel like everyone in the whole world can fuck off since Geto died… but have you ever considered moving on?” You tilt your head to the side, wondering if Toji really ever listened to himself talk. “I mean, yeah this shit is painful, but…” Toji rubs his neck and looks away from you and back to the fountain. “You have to move on at some point.”

“He told me to wait for him,” you explain, wrapping the pashmina a little tighter and squinting at the shapes in the pool. “I’m going to do just that.”

“Y/n, he’s dead… what good will waiting do? Will you wait your whole life?”

Your head snaps to Toji and you curl your lip up in disgust.

“You’ve never loved anyone in this world but yourself and your money,” you spit, standing from your seated position so fast that Toji takes a half-step back. “I don’t imagine that you’d know what I’m talking about.”

“That’s not true,” he retorts, frowning. “I’m trying to help you, that’s all. I’d hate to see you waste away over a man who can’t even survi--” The pashmina falls from your shoulders as your hand makes contact with his face, the echo of the slap scaring a flock of birds from the surrounding trees into the sky.

“Speak ill of Geto again, and I’ll make sure those words are your last.” Toji doesn’t touch his bruised cheek as you stomp off, watching you retreat back into the house as he realizes that he let you slap him.

_______________________________________________________________________

Screams haunt your sleep, fire burns the camp, and you’re running away, holding hands with the children as you dash into the forest. Geto is behind you, fighting off some unknown assailant, but you instinctively know how the dream is going to end.

You trip and fall over a root of a tree, but you yell at the children to escape. They continue running, not sparing you a second glance, but you turn around just as Geto is stabbed through the chest by a spear and falls with his back to the ground. His head tilts back and he makes eye contact with you, blood pouring out of his mouth as he chokes:

“Wait for me.”

You shoot up in the bed and stumble out of your room through the sliding door that leads to the garden, sweat pouring down your neck and back as you sink to your knees. Your stomach heaves once, twice, depositing yellow bile into the bushes beside the house. The sun is barely up, and as you dry heave, you hear another door sliding open, Toji then Kaori tumbling out of your back door.

“Poison,” Toji grunts, but Kaori pushes him aside before he can get to you.

“No, she didn’t even eat anything before bed,” she states, rubbing your back with her cool hands. Your skin clams up as a breeze rolls across the garden, and you shudder violently before your teeth begin to chatter. “Toji, a blanket.”

“Isn’t that your job?” he gripes, but walks into the house to grab a blanket anyways. When the cloth resta against your back, you feel a little better, but the feeling in your stomach won’t go away.

“My Lady… talk to me. What’s the matter?”

“Go,” you shake Kaori off, not wanting to repeat the events of your dream.

“It’s probably because she didn’t eat,” Toji groans, the stairs squeaking under his weight. “I’ll get her a --”

“Both of you. Go.” You look up at Toji, mustering your sternest look, and aiming the same expression at Kaori, who walks away from you, head hung low.

You stay in the garden as true morning crests over the sky, lying on the bench under the bare cherry blossom tree while the skies turn into pinks and yellows, and reds. The image of Geto’s bloodied face wouldn’t depart from your memory and you feel the ache even deeper than before. The ache intensifies until it feels like all of you is just one large hole, throbbing with need and grief.

Nothing could save you.

No one was coming back for you.

They were all dead, and there was nothing left of the people you had grown to love and care for.

It isn’t until your mother walks into the garden that you realize you might have missed your breakfast of an orange and water, but she comes bearing the fruit and you’re set back at ease. You wordlessly allow your mother to sit beside you, lifting your head so it rests in her lap snugly. She pats your hair gently, then inhales deeply, speaking in her normal soft tones.

“Kaori told me you were sick last night,” she begins, and you nod as if she had asked a question and not stated a fact. “Ever since Geto Suguru died, you’ve been awfully sullen. One might think you had been with him the whole time and not at the Imperial Palace.” You glance up at your mother, and she winks at you. “Don’t worry; I won’t tell your father.”

“How did you know?” you wonder, and she smiles, wrinkles forming at the edges of her mouth.

“Well first, whoever the General gets to write his letters needs to brush up on their penmanship,” she laughs, then shrugs. “But it was your face the day that the General was announced dead that I saw you change. It only took me a few days to realize that you were in mourning, not upset that your prince hadn’t sent for you.”

“Mother, I--”

“You had every right to keep it a secret, although I wish you hadn’t. It would’ve made my interrogation of Toji much easier.” You imagine your own mother - all of five-foot-four, standing up to the massive Fushiguro with a finger to his chest - and you can’t help but chuckle. “Whatever the General did, I haven’t seen you glowing like you did when you returned since you were a little girl. I’ll have to find a way to thank him for that.”

You choke out a deep sob, closing your eyes as you think of the lack of tribute, the lack of a funeral, the missing images of him that won’t return to your memory.

“Though Toji takes good care of you. I haven’t seen that man slack off on his job once since after the announcement. He’s also been very helpful with your father. You know, he would ma--”

“Lady y/n!” Kaori sprints out of the home, and you both look up to see her flustered expression, wondering what would have her so worked up this early in the morning. “There was a messenger from the Imperial Palace in the square!” she stops in front of you, panting heavily. “The Emperor… has fallen… ill.” When she catches her breath, the head maid can finally finish her statement, and she exhales deeply. “As is custom, his eldest son will be taking a tour of the country. And he’s named this village as his final stop, with your house as his resting place for the time he is here. He’ll be in the village in a fortnight.” You sit up, eyeing the maid carefully.

Pieces of a puzzle begin to click together in your mind.

“His eldest son is Prince Naoya, correct?”

“Yes, my lady.” As if sensing your premature plan, Kaori looks you dead in the eyes, daring you to do what she imagines you are already thinking of.

“And you said a fortnight?” Your mother butts in, squinting her eyes.

“Yes.”

“Fourteen days to prepare.” you whisper, lifting your head out of your mother’s lap and retreating to the house to find the eldest Fushiguro. Kaori enters behind you, grabbing your elbow before you can open his guest room door.

“What you’re thinking of is suicide,” she hisses, but you shrug.

“What better way to rejoin Geto than to kill his murderer and then die myself?” you retort, but she slaps a hand over the gap between the wall and the door, blocking you from entering.

“This isn’t what he would want,” Kaori pleads. “Please, think about what he said.”

“I cannot wait for a dead man, Kaori. Now, let me go.” You yank free from her grasp and enter the guest room, eyeing a lazy Toji lounging by the window. “I need your help.”

He rolls his head around to look at you and raises a brow. “With what, my lady?”

“I need to kill a prince in two weeks. Think you can help me with that?”

“You mean treason?” Toji sits up, letting the book he held in his hands drop to his bed, and hums thoughtfully. “Killing a prince as revenge… putting the Imperial Court into chaos… yeah, I think I can help you with that.”

_______________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @kamisamaundercover @jotazinha @just4readingfics @mxhi @sammytamaki @brownskinnedgirll @keelyshayee @leanne-tamashi @vabybizzle @amaris9 @fuegy-fuegy @ambiguous-something

#jujutsu kaisen getou #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #getou x reader #getou suguru #jjk gojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #gojo satoru #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro

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waiting-for-motivation · 3 years

Text

coming home

summary: Boba Fett finally returns to his lost love in the worst way possible.

request: Can I request a story where Boba and the reader where in a relationship prior to the sarlac pit and thinks he’s dead. She paired up with Din Djarin and the reader and Boba get a reunion that takes place during chapter 14 of the Mandalorian? I hope you have a good day! ~ anon

pairings: Boba Fett x Reader, Din Djarin, Grogu, Fennec Shand

warnings: SPOILERS, angsty fluff

words: 924

MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES

He is coming home. Boba is coming home. That is everything (Y/n) can think of as she watches a familiar ship land on the surface of Tython. She sets a foot forward but her mandalorian companion grabs her upper arm, holding her back.

“No. We stay together“, Mando says harshly and with one last glance at his foundling he starts walking towards the ship. (Y/n) follows him with a heavy heart.

After a few minutes of walking, someone shoots at the mandalorian warrior, but not at his female companion. Nevertheless, Mando pulls her with him behind a stone. They wait for their opponents next move.

“You have something that belongs to me, Mandalorian“, a male voice announces. While (Y/n) stays behind the stone because that voice alone made her whole body go numb, Mando stands up and points his blaster at the stranger.

“What do you mean?“, the mandalorian bounty hunter asks. His worried gaze wanders to (Y/n). In any case of danger she is always at his side.

(Y/n) closes her tearful eyes, trying to silence her raging thoughts. Boba is coming home. He finally returns to me. But she saw him die years ago. No one survives falling inside a sarlacc pit, not even a famous bounty hunter like Boba Fett. No matter how much (Y/n) hopes to see her lost lover once again, it just can‘t be him.

Then a cruel thought enters her mind. So many have the same voice and face as Boba. It must be a clone, trying to gain the mandalorian armor.

“My armor and-“, the hooded man says and in that exact moment (Y/n) jumps from her hiding spot and points her blaster at him. Without any hesitation, she pulls the trigger but the man can dodge quickly. The blaster shot only met his right arm.

“What are you doing?“ Mando grabs her by the hand and pulls her against his chest. Angry eyes glare at him. (Y/n) frowns and turns back around to the stranger. Her companion has so many questions: Why did she get so angry all of a sudden? Who is this guy? Which armor does he want? His? No, the other one in the Razor Crest.

“You have no right to claim this armor, clone“, (Y/n) yells and takes a step forward but Mando holds her back once again. Although he doesn‘t understand what is happening right now, he doesn‘t want her to get hurt.

“I appreciate you protecting my armor like that, little one“, the stranger says as he takes off his hood and shows a scarred but familiar face. (Y/n) takes a deep breath, but she doesn‘t change her mind.

“Don‘t talk to me like that“, (Y/n) whispers and her hands as well as blaster start shaking. Her tearful eyes are focused on the clones face. There are many scars but one particular scar catches (Y/n)s attention. It‘s on his left brow. When Boba and (Y/n) first met, she tried to steal his ship, and then they fought. The female hit him with her blaster and that‘s how Boba got the scar.

But this must be a coincidence. He is a clone.

“It‘s me“, the clone says while removing his glove and rolling up his dark sleeve. An almost unremarkable bracelet appears. Mando gets even more confused but there is nothing anymore that can hold (Y/n) back. She runs towards her lover because now she is sure that it is Boba.

A matching bracelet is on (Y/n)s wrist. It was Bobas last present before he fell into the sarlacc pit. It was a promise to start a life with his beloved one.

Both wrap their arms around each other and finally feel their lover again after so many years. Tears stream now over (Y/n)s face which she buries in the bounty hunters chest. Happiness fills their bodies but eventually they have to part.

Mando and Boba talk for some time. Fennec Shand joining them soon. While Boba lays down his weapon, the other Mandalorian takes off his jet-pack. They agree on giving back the famous bounty hunter his armor if the child stays safe.

Then an imperial ship lands and the fight starts. First, the Razor Crest gets shot and explodes to nothing. Second, some droids capture the child and even though Boba follows them with the Slave I, all hope is gone.

“Mando“, (Y/n) whispers softly and lays a hand on the Mandalorians shoulder, but he shrugs it off. He walks to the ashes of the Razor Crest and seems to look for something.

Soon Boba joins his love and wraps an arm around her waist. He is smiling under his helmet, unlike (Y/n). She was the childs caretaker for a long time, and now she failed him. She failed Mando.

“We will get him back. I promise“, the bounty hunter tells (Y/n) and pulls her closer to his chest. The forehead of his helmet touches his loves in a keldabe kiss.

“I missed you so much“, Boba admits and slowly takes off his helmet, lowering his gaze because he doesn‘t look like he did when (Y/n) last saw him.

Without warning (Y/n) presses her lips to Bobas in a short but passionate kiss. It‘s their first kiss in years but it still feels like they never stopped. After a short time they part and both look at the crater where Mando currently finds his beskar spear.

“How did you met him?“

“I tried to steal his ship.“

Both laugh and look at each other with so much love.

star wars taglist: @shadowfoxey @luvzoria

#boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett imagine #boba fett angst #boba fett fluff #boba fett x y/n #boba fett x you #boba fett one shot #boba fett oneshot #boba fett fic #the mandalorian #din djarin #fennec shand #grogu #the mandalorian chapter 14

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maybege · 3 years

Text

Safe And Warm - Part 1

Summary: Din convinces Paz to find the long lost Princess and bring her to her family in Coruscant. What Paz did not expect was her very beautiful companion and the feelings she would wake in him. (Anastasia AU)

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 6.1k | Rating: T

Warnings: one (1) tense moment of threatened violence, otherwise Disney-level fluff, also Mandalorians do not wear helmets in this AU

FINALLY! When I start writing this in November of last year I certainly did not expect it to take this long until I would publish it but the writing gods had other things in mind. This is a loose Anastasia AU with a bit of a mixture of like 1920’s fashion/aesthetics set in the Star Wars Universe. It was a lot of fun to write and – in my mind – is like a 90-minute fun Disney movie with romance sprinkled in.

Because there will be two parts of The One posted next week, the second (and final) part of this story will be posted on July 23. Always, feedback is greatly appreciated and I hope you enjoy it!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

Paz was sure that Din had lost his mind.

To be fair, he had thought that more than once but this time he was convinced that it had finally happened. Din Djarin had lost his stars forsaken mind.

But, as always, Din did not seem to be deteriorated by his friend’s disapproval.

“Valoria has been destroyed a long time ago now,” Paz said, “And everyone on it has been destroyed with it.”

“Yes, except maybe what if it hasn’t?”

Paz scoffed, “I very much doubt that.”

His eyes wandered around the cantina they were sitting in. The bar was packed by what seemed to be the crews of the trade ships, gambling and laughing at their tables, and over on the other side of the glittering gown of the singer caught his eye. Stars, he just wanted one calm evening …

“Paz,” Din grabbed him by the upper arm, “We all know the remaining Valars are Coruscant royalty so to speak and them setting out a price for the lost princess? That must mean she is out there somewhere. And wewill be the ones to bring her home.”

Paz did not say anything. He wanted nothing more than another drink and maybe watch a good fighting match. Stars, maybe even participatein a good fighting match.

But Din did not give up. He never did.

“Think of the money, Paz,” he implored, “That would be more than enough to build a new classroom in the covert and get you one of those fancy new blasters the Armourer has been eyeing – and that would only be with half your share.”

Paz hesitated.

They did need a new classroom. Or at least some improvements on the current one. Last week, some bricks had tumbled down and it had been pure luck that none of the foundlings had been there.

He would have never been able to forgive himself if something had happened to one of his students.

He sighed in defeat, his shoulders dropping and he leant back in his chair. “How do you plan on finding – what’s her name again Thama-something?”

“Thalassa,” Din corrected him with a smug grin on his face. He had probably realized by now that he had captured Paz’s interest. Smug bastard.

“And you’ll be glad to know that I have found her already.”

“Found her?” Paz was stunned, “I am impressed, vod. You never seemed like the planning type.”

Din ignored his jab and set out the map, the galaxy lighting up between them. “A reliable source told me we can find her here,” he pointed to the very end of the map, symbolizing the edge of the Outer Rim, “All we need to do is get her from here to here,” he drew an imaginary line all the way to Coruscant, “Without having anything happen to her.”

“Seems easy enough,” Paz commented, brows furrowing, “So why do you need me for it?”

“There might or might not be a price on her head … from the Imps,” Din admitted.

He knew there had to be a problem somewhere.

“Do you have any idea how many things can go wrong? This is asking for trouble Din,” Paz cursed, clearly unhappy with that tidbit of information, “No credits in the whole wide galaxy would make this worth it. I have no desire to have a run-in with the Imps any time soon.”

“Vod, please,” Din said, “I – kriff, I need the money to get stuff for the kid,” Paz's eyes fell to the little pod in which the green child – his honorary nephew – was sleeping, “I need him safe, alright? And I need your help, brother, please.”

“Alright,” Paz murmured, nodding, “But I already know this will go wrong.”

Din’s ‘hot tip’ led them to a planet on the Outer Rim. The very edge of it, to be exact.

They had gotten a ride on a friend’s ship much to Paz’s amusement. Din begrudgingly calling Boba Fett of all people for help all the way from Tatooine was the highlight of his week – month, even.

The Razor Crest was hopelessly broken down and Paz was sure that Din would use significant amounts of his share to get the ship and his home back on track.

They had left Grogu with the covert under the watchful eye of the Armourer, knowing that the mission would be too dangerous and too risky to take him along. That was the moment Paz knew that Din was serious about all of this. For his vod to leave his kid somewhere that was not with him – that was a big step.

A step which both of them seemed to regret as they landed on the planet in question. It was muddy and green and brownish, a wholly unappealing colour palette. The sky was dark or … well, not dark. But it seemed to be a permanent twilight no matter what time it was and with the small drizzle, the rain seemed to paint the whole world a constant grey.

The only homes that littered the streets – or rather trampled paths – were small homes, only distinguishable from the grey horizon by the small fires that lit up their windows.

Paz had never been so sure that there would never be a princess here. But maybe that was exactly what made this the perfect hiding spot.

And so, he hoisted his bag higher on his bag as they trudged through village after village in search for whatever sign Din deemed to be worthy to stop for. As the rain lessened, the sky lightened up a little but they were still wet to the bones and Paz hated it.

After hours of walking, Din finally stopped in front of a small hut.

Children were playing in the space between the houses and the few adults that seemed to be working outside eyed the newcomers suspiciously. Paz’s hand felt the blaster on his hip, a strange feeling overcoming him at being watched.

“I don’t like this, vod,” he murmured, “I really don’t.”

Din hummed in agreement before knocking on the door.

A few moments passed and then an elderly man opened. Both his eyes and his hair were grey, he seemed … worn. Tired and worn. But when he spotted them, and his eyes flew immediately to the weapons on their hips, he tensed. And so did Paz.

Surely this was not the best first impression they could make.

Then again, he was impatient to get away from here.

“I know why you are here,” the man said, his eyes lighting up in excitement as he motioned for them to come inside.

Paz was confused by this but he did not complain. The man did not seem to have any weapons on him and, as surprising as it was, he seemed genuine.

The house they were led into was simple. The downstairs consisted of a single room, serving as both the kitchen and the living room, and a set of stairs led to what Paz assumed to be the bedrooms.

A hearty smell wafted through the air and he spotted a pot hanging over the fire. His stomach growled.

“You are here to bring her home, aren’t you?” the man asked excitedly and both he and Din tilted their heads questioningly, making no secret of the fact that they were surprised by his warm welcome.

“We have been waiting for years but you see,” the man explained, gesturing to the outside, “there is no way to send reliable messages out there without them being able to be transferred.”

A woman came through a backdoor, clearly his spouse. She wore an apron and a suspicious look on her face as she spotted the two intruders. But even then, she did not acknowledge them. Instead, she walked over to the steaming pot of soup and set it on the table in the middle of the room.

Paz heard Din’s stomach grumbling and grinned.

“They are here to bring Thalassa home, darling,” the man explained, looking almost relieved and Paz furrowed his brows. He did not put it past the stranger to genuinely be happy for the girl to get back to her family but somehow, he had the feeling that the man’s happiness had a different reason.

“Where can we find her?” Din asked gruffly, shifting his weight on the other foot, “We want to get going as soon as possible.”

“Why should I tell you where she is?” the woman spat, “I cared for her like she was my own, what makes you think I would so easily give her away?”

“Because she deserves to be reunited with her family,” Din stated drily, “And her family wants to see her. They have waited a long time for this to happen.”

Paz held onto himself to not roll his eyes. Din could always be so dramatic if he wanted to and he hoped that it would work. He just wanted to get on with it.

The spouses looked at each other for a long moment and Paz could tell that they were having a conversation without words.

“Alright,” the woman finally relented, before adding, “But I do have one condition.”

“What is it?”

“I want you to take my niece with you. She – she has been stuck on this planet for far longer than she needed to. She is a good girl, she deserves a chance in the big worlds.”

Paz could feel how tense Din was. His first instinct was to disagree. They would have trouble smuggling one princess across the galaxy but a princess and another random stranger? Besides, who knew how this niece would hinder them on their quest to keep the princess safe?

No, that really was a ridiculous idea.

But Din was better at lying than he was and so he agreed with a reluctant nod. Nothing would speak against just taking the princess with them once they found her, right?

“Where is she then?”

“Oh, they’re just outside, working in the gardens,” the older woman says, wiping her hands on her apron, “You can tell them dinner is ready. You’re invited to stay as well, you won’t be able to walk back to your ship in that darkness.”

Both of them nodded and Paz was happy to set down his bag at the door that led outside. He kept his blaster on his hip though and he knew that Din had done the same. His thoughts were rushing with how quickly they could get Thalassa out of here and how long they would have before any of the Imps had an inkling of where she was.

But as he stepped down the stairs all thoughts left his head because … because …

There you were.

Like the lady had said, you were working in the gardens. You were kneeling on the muddy ground, your hands full of wet earth as you cleaned the plants of any weeds. Your companion was next to you, sitting on a small chair and talking to you. She must have said something funny because you threw your head back and laughed.

You – stars, you were beautiful.

How could people not see a princess when they saw you?

Noticing the newcomers, you raised your head and your eyes grew wide as you saw the two big men walk determinedly towards you. You hurried to stand up, wiping your hands clean on an apron. “How can we help you?” you asked carefully.

Paz did not slow his steps. He felt how flushed he was, even the tips of his ears felt hot as he walked towards you. His chest was oddly warm and tight as he looked at you, your eyes big and your mouth opening with another question.

“Your Majesty,” he murmured, lifting your hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it. You had wiped them clean on the fabric of your skirt and he felt how soft it was and he heard you gasp and oh stars how would he ever be able to forget this very moment.

The other woman seemed to be more excited rather than surprised and he heard her talking to Din in a high-pitched voice. But what did he care about that woman’s niece when you were there right in front of him?

“Oh I – I’m not,” you said, clearly embarrassed. You held your hand to your chest, the one he had kissed and Paz frowned. Shame filled him when he realised that he had made you feel uncomfortable but then he was also confused by your words. What did you mean?

“If anyone’s a Majesty, that would be me,”the woman behind him said, “It’s been time I would think.”

“We’re here to get you back to your family, Your Majesty,” Din said, throwing an amused look to Paz who was still standing in front of you. He looked from the other woman to you and back again. She – she was the princess? And you were the niece?

“We will start our journey to Coruscant tomorrow,” Din announced, “We got a ticket on a freighter ship booked. It will be a long and dangerous journey, princess, but you will see your family again soon.”

“Well, I should hope so,” Thalassa replied, wholly unimpressed, “It’s been years, I almost thought I’d never leave this forsaken place. Oh, is that dinner I smell?”

The princess walked off without another word, leaving the basket and little chair behind as well as Din and Paz looking at each other and realizing that keeping her safe might not be the issue – enduring her might cost them their last nerves.

Paz watched as you kneeled down again quickly putting some of the vegetables in the basket.

With the basket in your hands, you stood up again, looking at Paz for a long while. He felt how this warm feeling came back and nervously shifted on his feet. He could not figure out what it was about you but he – he wanted more. Wanted you more.

You took a deep breath, seemingly gathering your courage for something, and he resisted the urge to take your hand.

“When, uh, when you said you would go to Coruscant did you mean … me too?” you asked quietly and the small hope in your eyes made his heart clench.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Din opening his mouth. He knew that look on his face, knew that Din would reject your request just like they had planned when your aunt had first voiced that condition. Din would tell you that they would leave only with the princess in tow. And he was right, probably. Fewer people meant less danger.

But you did not look at Din.

You looked at him with a small smile on your lips as if you did not allow yourself to be hopeful yet but as if you wanted to be. Wanted to be hopeful. Wanted to be excited. Wanted to be on this journey.

He wanted to change that.

“Yes,” he said, already feeling Din’s eyes on him. But when you looked at him like that there was no way he could say no, “Yes, you will come with us too, if you’d like, of course.”

To no one’s surprise (and Paz’s excitement), you wanted to come along.

Already the preparations for the trip were eating at their nerves. Thalassa was more than annoyed that she was only allowed to take one bag with her. But Din was adamant and surprisingly patient with the demanding princess and soon she had reduced her luggage to only the essential items. It was not like she would need her muddy dresses in the high society of Coruscant.

Paz felt like he could not wait until the trip was over.

The next morning, they were able to borrow speeders from the family which would take them to the capital of the mud planet. From there, they would take one of the big cruiser ships to Naboo.

It was the easiest method to fall under the radar – by blending in with the large crowds that flocked to the core worlds. Paz had worn his best suit for that exact purpose.

The only downside was that the Imps were slowly becoming aware of that loophole and more and more of them infiltrated the standard ways of travelling.

Already in the terminal did Paz spot a few suspicious-looking people. They were most likely bounty hunters but he was not too worried. The ship they were boarding was enormous and so was the number of passengers. The odds of them crossing paths were very slim and so he and Din decided to not change their plans at the last minute.

You, on the other hand, seemed to be intimidated if not scared. Din has assigned you the space on Paz’s speeder and with your arms wrapped around his middle, you had driven hours on end until you had reached the spaceport. He had liked the proximity, the way you had pressed your cheek against his back and how your arms had sometimes tightened around him.

He could very well get used to it.

Now, even as you were in the terminal, ready to board, you stuck to his side. It flustered and pleased him to have you so close that your arm was brushing against his constantly. But he was also relieved to have you this close because everywhere he looked, strangers were walking towards the gates and he did not want to lose you in this chaos.

And so, he made it a point to make himself seem bigger, pushing out his chest and straightening his posture to make sure that none of the other passengers would stray too close.

You sent him a grateful smile.

A few rows before you, he could hear Thalassa’s high-pitched voice complaining about one thing or another and soon he recognized Din’s dark hair in the masses. He wondered if his brother in arms was even listing to her. Her voice was shrill and she had not stopped talking for one moment since leaving the house this morning so Paz found it hard to imagine that Din could just tune it out but he hoped for his sake that he could.

He did not want to imagine the next few days on the ship.

“Do you have the tickets?” you asked quietly beside him, pulling him out of his thoughts. Paz nodded and rummaged in the inside pocket of his jacket. He brought out two data chips, handing you one.

“Stick close,” he advised you, “It can get a little chaotic, getting through the gates.”

With big eyes, you nodded. He watched how you took a deep breath and then you were separated from him, being pushed towards another gate. There was a sea of people trying to get through the electronic controls and Paz did not like this suffocating feeling that came over him

He pushed the chip in and the gate opened with a beep before he was swept up again by the masses making their way into the hull of the ship. But there was something – or rather someone – missing.

Paz turned around, trying to spot you. When he did not see you, he grew panicked. He could care less what happened to Thalassa but you– he wanted to make sure you were safe.

Hoping that it would help, he shouted your name over the chatter of the other passengers. He turned around, fighting his way back to the gates, pushing against people and getting insulted in more languages than he understood.

A soft hand grabbed his and he froze. He whipped his head around and there you were, looking clearly a bit overwhelmed but smiling at him. He breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders dropping. Out of instinct, he grasped your hand tighter, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

“Ready?” he asked and you nodded with a smile.

Neither of you let go of each other’s hand.

Hours later, when the ship finally started taking off, you were settled in the cantina.

The ship had dorms and suites and common rooms, more than anyone could ever count, but Din and Paz had decided that it would be safer for the time being to be in the cantina before figuring out any sleeping arrangements.

“I don’t understand why we couldn’t have gotten a suite,” Thalassa hissed, looking around her with disdain. It was clear that she did not appreciate being around ‘commoners’ as she had called them before and Paz wondered how she had lived her life in poverty and still ended up like this.

Fittingly enough, he could see how Din’s jaw clenched, how his eyes flashed with annoyance, and grinned. When he had thought of credits he certainly hadn’t thought of how annoying royalty could be to deal with.

“It would be too obvious, Thalassa,” you explained gently, sitting next to Paz and a datapad in your lap, “They already explained before. It will only be for a few days. Isn’t that right, Paz?”

His heart skipped a beat at you saying his name. You were already looking to him for backup, as if you trusted him with it, and the way his name rolled off your tongue … stars, he would dream of that tonight.

“Very right,” he replied, “Three days at the most, all of this will take less than a week if we’re lucky.”

“And if we’re not?” Thalassa challenged.

“Then it will take longer,” Din hissed.

Paz grinned. This would be a long journey.

When dinner had been served, the group had barely moved from their spot in the cantina.

Thalassa had been busy watching some holovid or another on a datapad and the best part about it was that she was silent. Under different circumstances, Paz might have been annoyed by how loud she was playing the holovid, the actor’s shrill voice sounding all the way through the cantina but he could not be bothered to care when the alternative was to explain to her for the hundredth time why she needed to be happy with the lower standard of accommodation.

Din was sitting next to the princess, thoroughly entranced by studying maps or researching new parts for the Crest or something.

But whom Paz was most focused on was you.

You had started to doze off in your seat next to him for a while now and your head kept leaning dangerously to the side, threatening to fall on his shoulder. Paz was tense. Slowly, he shifted closer to you until your cheek rested fully on his shoulder and he heard you sigh in your sleep and then … you shuffled closer to him.

Paz tensed even more, pretending to read the ship’s safety manual in his hands.

He still felt Din’s amused gaze on him though and he furiously tried to ignore the heat that rose in his cheeks. But you were soft and warm against him, completely relaxed now that your head was supported by something.

He wondered if you were cold. It was drafty in the cantina, maybe he should put his jacket over you? He would be fine with just wearing his shirt and the vest but he would have to move and what if that would wake you?

And how would he get you to your sleeping quarters without waking you? Would you be angry at him? He knew some people had trouble falling asleep on spacecrafts and what if you were one of them and you had finally managed to fall asleep only to be awakened by him and then you would not be able to sleep again and –

“Guess it is time to talk about the living arrangements,” Din muttered.

Thalassa put her datapad on the table with a clatter. “Finally,” she sounded exasperated, “I hope at least our sleeping accommodations will be sufficient.”

At the sound of her voice, you stirred next to him, your brows furrowing. Paz thought you looked adorable, like a loth cat that had fallen asleep in the sun with your cheek squished against the tweed of his suit.

“Hey, love,” he whispered, hoping no one heard how that pet name had slipped out of lips so naturally. He rose his hand to your cheek, gently coaxing you awake.

“Huh?” you murmured, blinking up confused at him before a small smile appeared on your lips.

Then you noticed the position you were in and, clearly embarrassed, scooted away from him.

“I am so sorry,” you mumbled, “That was very inappropriate of me.”

Paz wanted to protest and say that he would hold you in his arms for however long you wanted. He would be gladly at your service should you have need of a human pillow again. But even in his lovestruck state, he knew how ridiculous that sounded and so he managed to keep his mouth shut and only smile tightly at you.

“So,” Din pulled the attention on himself, “We have three beds and four people. One private room for two and one bunk bed in the larger dorms. I’d suggest you girls get the room and Paz and I take the bunk.”

“Absolutely not,” Thalassa protested, completely horrified. Paz furrowed his brows confused over why she was this opposed to something that should actually please her. Having a private room had to be one of the points on her secret lists of requirements, he was sure, why in the stars would she not want to stay in one?

“If people are out there searching for me I want to be roomed with someone who can protect me, not – not her, no offence, honey,” she gestured towards you.

“None taken,” you smiled slightly, then turned to Din, “But Thalassa is right. If people are hunting her like you say they are, then – maybe I should sleep in the dorm? I – surely, it won’t be thatbad.”

Everything in Paz’s stomach turned at the idea of you in one of the big dorms. This was the first time you had ever left your planet and you thought they would throw you into a dorm with a bunch of rowdy passengers? No way.

“Well, then how do we proceed?” Din asked, throwing a knowing look his way, “I guess it is best if Paz would be in the dorms with you, he is intimidating enough that people wouldn’t want to approach you.”

“Intimidating?” you asked confused, turning to look at Paz, “I – I don’t think he’s intimidating at all.”

Paz was positive that he had never been this flustered in his life. You didn’t think him to be intimidating. You were not intimidated by him. You were comfortable with him. Comfortable enough to even share a bunk with him.

“Is that so?” Din asked, hardly able to hide his grin, “Well, isn’t that interesting, Paz?”

Shut up, Paz thought, too focused on how you were still tucked into his side, the sleep barely gone from your eyes, Shut up and let me enjoy this.

The walk to the dorm was long and dark and for you, probably quite scary.

Paz was convinced that he had already witnessed at least two spice deals and you weren’t even halfway to the dorm. He was happy about it though because he was not sure what would have happened if anyone thought you had noticed their illegal wrongdoings.

But you were probably unaware of it.

You seemed to make sure never to stray too far from him or the path that you had set out for yourself, your hesitant footsteps echoing around the labyrinth that was the ship. He could see how tightly you were clutching your bag to your chest as he walked beside you and it took everything in him not to put his arm around your waist.

Where did this endless need to touch you come from?

When the door to the dormitory came into view, Paz took a deep breath, shouldered his bag. The weight of his blaster against his hop was a comfort as he braced himself for the worst. Dorms on ships these big … they could be bad.

“We’re bed 32B,” he told you and you nodded your understanding as the door slid open with a creak.

It was a huge room and it seemed endless. Paz could not even see the furthest wall from where he was standing at the entrance. But no matter how big the room seemed, it was absolutely packed with people of all ways of life and it was loud.

You backed up into him, your back bumping against his chest as a sound of fear escaped you.

“It’ll be alright, mesh’la,” he promised quietly, his hands finding your hips as he gently guided you forward. There was a resistance in your steps as he saw you watch your new surroundings. There were several bet games going on and from further down the room he was sure he heard some illegal loth cat races and even more angry shouts at a commotion just to your right.

The bunks that lined the walls each had four levels and Paz was somewhat relieved to find that your assigned bed was on the third one. Far enough up to avoid getting pulled into any of the conflicts. Far enough out of reach that he would have enough time to react if someone tried to come for you.

“I hope you don’t get claustrophobic too easily,” he muttered as he spotted how dark and small it looked. You might be able to sit up fully but he was certainly not.

Before you could step towards the ladder, however, a bright red arm stopped you, blocking your way. You squeaked and stepped right back into Paz’s chest whose arm came around your waist, holding you to him. He tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating at having you this close. Instead, he eyed the man in front of you who grinned confidently.

The alien’s eyes roamed over you slowly, dragging over every single inch of your body and Paz sneered, pulling you closer.

“Oh, where did you get this beauty, Mando?” the stranger asked, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he leered at you, “How much for a night of entertainment, girly? I promise I pay well.”

Paz did not even blink as he pulled his blaster and held it against the man’s forehead. “Touch her and you are dead,“ he growled, arm tensing around you.

Instantly, all eyes in the room focussed on the three of you and the charged weapon but he could not bring himself to care. His eyes were cold as he stared the man down, his other and still on you and he noticed how your shoulders relaxed.

The man shifted uneasily on his feet before he lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. “Alright, alright,” he muttered, taking a few steps backwards, “She’s yours, I get it, I’m backing off, you see, Mando? No need to point that thing at me.”

Paz did not lower the blaster until the man had disappeared into the darkness of the room. Soon the other passengers started minding their own business again, the chatter picking back up and the hissing of the loth cats sounding above everything else.

“C’mon,” he muttered to you, gently pushing you towards the ladder, “That one’s ours.”

You climbed into the bunk before him and scooted to the very edge of it to make space for him as well. Just as he had suspected, the bunk was too low for him and he needed to duck his head before he could even thinkof crawling into the small space.

The bunk was outfitted like most bunks he had slept in, a curtain to pull close during the night, a net at the side to store a small bag or other belongings and a dim night lamp. He pulled the curtain close immediately, fastening it at the side so no one from the outside could open it easily. Then he switched on the small lamp, flooding the little bunk with warm light.

The first thing both of you did was take off your shoes and putting them at the very end of the bed where a small shelf was located. Paz decided to store his backpack there as well. It did not necessarily feel very safe but he also did not want you to feel uncomfortable. The bunk was slim as it was.

“I – I still need to change,” you noted, shifting in what he now recognized as discomfort.

Paz felt his cheeks heating up at the implication.

“I’ll turn around and, uh, let you change,” he decided and turned his back to you. The only problem was that in his haste to offer you some privacy, Paz forgot that the bunk was not built for people of his size and smashed his head against the ceiling.

“Ouch!” he cursed, “Kriffin’ bantha –“ he grumbled, holding his head and hearing your giggle behind him.

“I’m sorry,” you managed to bring out between your quiet laughter, “It just looked so funny.”

He only grumbled, his head still pounding but his heart fluttering because you sounded so happy. It was lovely.

He took the chance to slip off his suspenders and unbutton his dress shirt, only leaving him in his Henley and his pants. It would be comfortable enough for a night’s sleep, he supposed.

When he felt you shift and rustle beside him, he took it as a sign that it was safe to turn around. This time, he ducked his head, making sure to not even come near the hard ceiling. You were dressed in your night shift, fiddling with your hands in front of your chest.

“Does – does it hurt very badly?” you asked guiltily, “Maybe we can find a bacta pill or something?”

Even in the dim light of the bunk, Paz could see the unease and guilt on your face. And he rushed to make you feel better.

“No worries, mesh’la,” he assured you, “It was just a bump and I suppose from the outside it must’ve been pretty funny.”

You smiled shyly at him, “It was and … if it makes you feel better, the next time I bump my head, you’re allowed to laugh as much as you want.”

With that, you settled down under the blankets, your cheek hitting the pillow as you expectantly looked up at him and patted the spot next to yours. “Aren’t you going to sleep too?”

He had no words. Not only were you smiling at him like that but now you also wanted him to – to really sleep beside you. No staying on top of the covers. No sitting at the end of the bed and looking out for trouble. You wanted him to sleep.

He laid down, turning so his back was towards the curtain and he was facing you. “It’s, uh it’s a tight fit,” he murmured trying to arrange his arms somehow. You smiled, carefully taking his hand and stars your skin was soft and put it behind you on your waist.

Immediately, his fingers spread out on your back, pulling you closer. The fabric of your nightdress was soft under his fingertips and he wondered if your skin felt like that too. He heard you take a deep breath and then he felt your fingers on the exposed skin of his chest, playing with the buttons of his Henley.

His eyes fluttered closed, enjoying your soft touches on him.

“Are you comfortable?” he whispered, your head tucked into his chest, “the blanket’s not very thick I could try and see if they have some more on -“

“It’s alright,” you cut him off, smiling up at him, “I’m – you – you’re very warm, but what is that?”

You shifted again and he felt something hard brush against his belly. He chuckled and put his finger to his lips to shush you with a conspiratory grin. Lifting the blanket, he revealed the blaster between the two of you.

Your eyes widened.

“Safety’s on,” he revealed, “but I don’t want to take any chances.”

You shuddered, “I’m not used to all this – this danger,” you confessed, your finger brushing against his chest and he made sure his hand didn’t flex too much on your back.

“I worry about it,” you said, “Of the things that could happen. Thalassa and I – we’ve never been anywhere but home and now this – this is so much.”

“It’ll be alright,” he promised quietly, “it’ll be alright. Just rest and as soon as you can blink we’re one day closer to Naboo.”

“W-will you be there when I wake up?”

“Yes.”

#maybege writes #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x fem!reader

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pterodactylschreech · 3 years

Text

Entangled

(One-shot based on this post)

Lena looks beautiful tonight.

She's all Kara can think about, despite being surrounded by everyone she loves. Her eyes track back every few seconds no matter where she treks in the apartment or how much her family and friends vie for her attention. It's their first game night post-Phantom Zone and post-The Break, as Kara thinks of it. The first time everyone is back together, smiling and laughing and happy, in over a year. And they all want Kara's attention, her presence the glue for the family after her absence.

But all she can think about is Lena.

Lena sitting close on the couch while they play games. Lena passing her the last pot sticker on her plate without thought. Lena standing in the kitchen refilling her wine glass and mingling with Kelly and Brainy, at home among their friends. Kara focuses on her, intent to memorize every single detail of the other women as if she may never see her again. The crinkles by her piercing eyes when she squints in laughter at one of Nia's corny puns. The play of light on her features accentuating the sharp angle of her jaw and the soft curve of her lips. The gentle, bright look she shares with Kara when she catches her looking, a hard won relief radiating out from the woman after months of fighting one another. Kara could practically taste the joy on the air, surrounded by her little family.

Kara hopes that look means everything that her matching expression means: I love you. I'm home again, and I missed you. Hopes beyond all reason that Lena understands and is sending the same message back.

It's been a week since she returned to find Lena unemployed and living at the Tower out of a hastily packed suitcase. A week since she refused to let Lena remain in the cold and impersonal lair and convinced Lena to unofficially move in with her. She wouldn't admit it, not even to Alex, but one of the reasons Kara insisted so strongly was because she couldn't bear to sleep alone. The memories of her nightmares from her childhood after landing on Earth were enough to drench her in fear of the coming nights, the darkness and isolation that pulled her under the waves of terror. It turned out to be the best decision for both of the women as they both suffered and only found peace and reprieve when sleeping next to one another.

And it's been two days since Kara bared her soul to Alex, finally admitting the depth of her feelings for Lena after her sister told her about the decision they had been forced to make: Kara or National City. Her feelings that lay dormant for years due to her fear but surfaced to crush her under their weight during the year spent away from Lena, that grew like ivy through her heart until they covered every inch of her life. Kara sobbed into Alex's shoulder, for time lost and hope and comfort from her one constant through everything. Alex, for her part, seemed decidedly less surprised by Kara's outburst than she had expected. She let Kara expend her tears, then quietly told her it was time for Kara to choose her own happiness first. To put herself before the world and her past and her decades of fear. To tell Lena and let them be happy, together.

So now, Kara sits on her couch, surrounded by family and basking in the warmth of their love and closeness, nervous and fidgeting while she anxiously replays her prepared speech over and over in her head. For one terrifying moment, the whole situation felt excruciatingly familiar and terror spikes through her. Alex lays a hand on her bouncing knee, a distraction and reassurance that all would end well if Kara just trusted herself and Lena.

The night wore on in pleasant company until the group thinned out, pair by pair. Only Alex and Kelly remain on their way out of the apartment. Alex lingers in the doorway to give Kara an extended hug and whisper encouragement in her ear. "Good luck, Kar. Love you." She and Kelly say their last goodbye to Lena, and Kara quietly closes the door for the evening.

After taking a deep, steadying breath, Kara turns back to find Lena tossing empty take-out boxes into the recycling bin and setting their empty glasses in the sink. With her hair in a haphazard bun, Kara's NCU sweatshirt, and her cheeks pink tinged, Lena leaves Kara breathless in the entryway. The domesticity and familiarity of Lena in her clothes, in her home and cleaning up; in her glasses, forgotten after a particularly spot on impersonation during charades and still perched on the bridge of her nose, have Kara dreaming of their possible future. Of games nights and family dinners and quiet nights in that begin and end with Lena by her side.

Kara's tongue darts out to wet her lips and her hands twist together as she moves closer to Lena who has rinsed the glasses and is drying her hands on one of Kara's novelty printed dish towels. When she turns and spots Kara, hovering nearby but without fully approaching, she watches the simple movements of Kara's hands with rapt attention and smiles the same gentle grin from throughout the night. The corners of her mouth turn down slightly when she notices the focused crinkle between Kara's eyes, the unfailing sign she was deep in thought or struggling to vocalize something she found important.

Kara hardly registers the soft padding of Lena's socked feet across the floor until she reaches up to smooth the offending crinkle away with her fingertips. Kara's eyes drop closed at the gentle press, and she exhales a long held breath, focusing entirely on the point of contact and warmth to ground herself in the moment and chase any final doubts away. "Lena," Kara's voice puffs out into the quiet of their closeness. Lena's hand drifts to brush a stray curl behind Kara's ear before answering, matching her reverent tone. "What is it, darling?" Kara's eyes slide open to take in the gaze fixed on her: Lena promising safety and trust trust with nothing but the vulnerability in her eyes and the press of her hand to Kara's chest, just over where her crest materializes. It's enough to set Kara's heart beating wildly in anticipation.

"I need to tell you something. We promised each other, no more secrets. And there's one more thing I need you to know before we try this again. Our friendship, or you know, us."

Kara can see Lena's response to her words and hesitated. Lena's shoulders immediately tensing and her mouth drawing into a tight line, fighting trembling lips. She places her hand over Lena's on her chest to keep her from pulling away preemptively and to draw the strength she needs for what may come next. "Kara, what-?" "Wait, please. It's not bad, well, I don't think so, it's just, um-" Kara stops to regroup her frantic thoughts.

"Just, um, let me say what I need to say. And, if you don't, you know, feel the same or want anything to change, then none of this will matter."

Lena relaxes minutely, squinting at Kara's phrasing in suspicion and confusion. She lets Kara hold her hand in place. Once she feels Lena's tension release enough to prove she's listening, Kara plunges into her speech.

"Lena, you are my best friend. One of the two most important people to me. When we were fighting," Kara sucks in a deep breath at the lingering pain of their separation. "that was one of the hardest years of my life. All this terrible stuff was happening, and my person, the one I go to when everything feels like its falling apart, was gone. You were gone. I could still hear you and see you, but I couldn't have you. You were gone, and it was all my fault."

Hot tears spill free from Kara's eyes. When Lena reaches up to wipe them away, Kara leans heavily into her warm palm.

"Kara, darling, it's okay. We've forgiven each other. You don't need to apologize again."

A soft laugh escapes Kara's lips before she turns her head to press a kiss to Lena's palm. She speaks into Lena's hand, too nervous to see what Lena's reaction will be to her next words.

"I'm not. I'm just being honest. I lied to you for years. Willfully. Cruelly. Because I was selfish and stupid and scared. Rao, I was so scared to lose you. So, I rationalized lying day after day because I knew you'd leave when I told you. I knew the moment I said the words, it was over. No matter what I did or said, I would lose you."

The apartment was silent but for Kara's sniffles and her overflowing words.

"I did lose you." The whisper carries a year's worth of pain and longing.

"But, me being Supergirl isn't the biggest thing I haven't told you."

Lena's sharp inhale draws a fresh panicked round of tears from Kara who holds tighter to Lena's hand on her chest and forges onward quickly.

"You have to understand why I haven't said anything. It's not that I haven't wanted to; it's all I can think about sometimes. Most days now. But I couldn't. How could I- it would've been-" Kara stops and looks at Lena again, to read the expectation and shock flaring behind her green eyes. "I had to be honest about who I am before I could be honest about how I feel."

Lena joins Kara now with the first of her own tears breaking free to run down her cheeks. Kara can hear the quickening pace of her heart and focuses on the sound.

"Lena, I met you, and my whole world changed. You didn't know me during my first year as Supergirl, didn't see the rage that I could barely control or the reckless way I threw myself at every enemy. I struggled. A lot. But you showed me that we aren't bound by our family's sins. That I could hope and change and-" Kara feels the weight of the word on the tip of her tongue, rolls it around in her head another second and tastes the letters as they spill out for Lena to catch or watch shatter on the ground. "love. I met you, and I realized how deeply and fully I can love. I've lost so much, so many people, and I tend to be very protective of the love I share. But, I've learned that, despite what I've lost, the pain and the loneliness, I can love with my entire self. With all of who I am. With my heart, my body, and my soul. All that I am; all that I've experienced and will experience, everything. I can love through it and find strength in those who love me."

It was now Kara's turn to gently brush the fallen tears from Lena's cheek, one hand still holding firmly to Lena's hand on her chest.

"I've been drawn to you from the first day we met and every day after. I've never been able to fight it. Never wanted to, even when we were on opposites sides. I could never quite see through my love for you. Alex used to find it extremely frustrating, but I think she's finally come around."

Their watery laughs mingle together.

"You asked me once if I knew anything about quantum entanglement. I may know more about it than I admitted. And since that day, I haven't been able to think of you in any other way. I love you, but it isn't just that I love you. I am tethered to you, pulled across the universe to orbit you. The true source of my strength. I am entwined with you on a molecular level and in my soul. My parents sent me here to save me and to protect Kal, but something more, something bigger, maybe Rao himself, brought me to you."

Kara carefully absorbs Lena's body language, her stillness and continued silence. She seems to barely be breathing in the wake of the confession. The only sign Kara has that Lena is still listening is the furious pounding of her heartbeat reverberating through Kara's ears. Normally, even moments ago, the steady rhythm calms Kara, so much that she would take to flying over L-Corp during the past year just to hear the familiar sound. But now it leaves her uncertain and nervous. She fills the empty charged air with rambling, too anxious to wait for Lena to resume her normal functioning.

"I understand you might not feel the same, and after everything, I don't blame you. I mean, I did lie and then call you a villain and treat you pretty bad, so yeah." Kara trails off, cringing at the less than stellar stream of words her mouth chose. "So, um, if you don't want anything to change, then it doesn't have to. It won't. We can keep being friends and having game nights and movie nights. And you can obviously stay here as long as you need. I just, um, needed you to know how I feel."

The tide was open, and Kara couldn't find the ability to lock the flood gates on her mouth. Tears begin a fresh descent in the wake of her expelled anxiety.

"And I feel that I love you. That I am in love with you. I am in love with you, Lena."

Salt brines her lips, and her tongue tastes the clinging mineral as it slides out to wet them. Lena remains stoically still in her position pressed to Kara and swimming in her own trickle of tears. Kara notes the slowing of them, the crystalline droplets that drip from her jaw to the floor. She watches Lena's lips part and the quick flicker of her green eyes over Kara's face, landing first on her own blue eyes, then her nose, her cheeks, the scar above her eyebrow, before settling lower on her trembling lips.

She can't stand the limbo, the electric deja vu and mixture of fear and hope.

"Lena, please say something."

In reflection, Kara knows the moment, the span of seconds between her plead and Lena's reaction, only lasted the length of a heartbeat. But in the beat between her words and Lena's movement, Kara felt the weight of every loss she's suffered, every end. And every beginning. Every beautiful Earth sunrise and blossoming friendship. Anticipation swelled painfully behind her ribcage, her heart preparing to drop or soar.

In that moment, Lena held more power over Kara than any amount of Kryptonite ever could. With one second she could either crush Kara beneath one more disappointment and loss, or she could fuel Kara more powerfully than the yellow sun.

Kara's throat tenses with choking tears as she opens her mouth to withdraw every word to ever steal its way past her lips, but Lena blocks any hasty retreat half-formed with her own lips pressing firmly against Kara's. She pushes forward, bumping their noses and pressing her body impossibly closer, their hands still trapped between the mingling beats of their hearts.

Locked and entwined. Entangled over an invisible crest.

When her lips meet Kara's, soft but sure and insistent, Kara's mind blissfully silences but for the rapid fire pleasure of feeling and Lena. The burning desire in her chest spreading through her limbs and begging for more. More skin, more lips, more pressure. More Lena. All around her, flooding her senses until there's nothing left but the two of them.

It's everything and more than she imagined. Her nose fills with nothing but the sweet perfume Lena wears daily, and the lavender undertones of her own conditioner in Lena's hair. For once, the world quiets in Kara's hypersensitive ears, condensed to the sighs escaping Lena's mouth as she leans further into their kiss. And it's the taste that leaves Kara dazed and desperate for the next kiss. The fruity wine clinging to Lena's tongue and the underlying taste that is distinctly Lena. Unlike anything Kara has ever tasted and addictive from the first touch of Lena's tongue to her own.

They remain in their embrace, erasing any space that crept between them during their fighting and time apart. Even after breaking for air and resting their foreheads together, reveling in one another, they stay close. Kara can't fight the broad smile stretching across her face, and she hears Lena's matching grin in her words, reverently whispered in their shared breaths.

"And I love you, Kara. All of you. Always."

AO3 link

#supergirl #supercorp #supercorp fic #kara danvers #lena luthor

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fanfic-she-wrote · 3 years

Text

Imagine being the reincarnation of Dracula's long lost love: Part 9

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

A couple hours later, the flames eventually died out, leaving the castle practically in ruins. You still hadn't moved and Dracula was beginning to lose hope that you would never move again. He picked you up and carried your limp body in his arms as he walked back to the castle. So much of it was burnt and fallen apart. There was a large gaping hole in the cieling where you could see into the sky above. Dracula noticed that it was nearly dawn. He just hoped that the dungeons were still in tact as they made their ways towards them with Henry and Van Helsing clearing the way, pushing aside the charred debris.

At this moment Dracula felt numb. His castle was a heap of burnt rubble and the love of his life was possibly dead forever. Luckily for him when he reached the dungeons it was untouched, not even by the mob. At least that was a good sign. He thought. But not much of one. In a room just off the staircase lay his coffin, it black with plush red lining, and inscribed on the top was his family crest. Henry lifted the lid and Dracula placed you gently inside.

"What do we do now?" Van Helsing asked.

"We wait." Dracula replied, looking down at your lifeless body.

He felt anger once again boiling over inside him. He clutched his fists so tight that his knuckles turned white and his nails cut into his palms.

The tension was so thick in the room you could cut it with a knife. The longer Dracula waited, the more he became angry. Angry that his love had been taken away from him again. Angry that no matter how much he wanted it, he would never find peace not from angry townsfolk, not from Van Helsing, and not even from himself.

Van Helsing watched him carefully, sensing his anger. This anger was different than before. For the first time, he actually felt a little frightened. Dracula could tear him apart like paper if he wanted to. It felt like waiting for a bomb to explode.

Finally it did and like a viper he grabbed Van Helsing by his collar, lifting him a couple inches off the ground. "This is all your fault!! " He growled.

"My fault?! I'm not a monster that goes around killing innocent townsfolk am I?! " Van Helsing choked, trying to pry himself lose, but to no avail.

"Get out before I kill you were you stand!" He hissed, releasing him.

"No, Im staying." Van Helsing refused, fixing his shirt. Dracula stepped toward him, baring his teeth, aiming to kill.

"If she wakes and finds me dead, she will never forgive you. You don't want to risk that do you?" He pointed out, trying to appear calmer than he felt.

Dracula hesitated for a moment. Why did she value his friendship so much? He wondered.

"If she wakes up I will let you go. If not, you better pray for a quick death." Dracula threatened, glaring at him.

"Master, where will you sleep?" Henry asked, changing the conversation.

"I can't sleep. Not now. I'll be fine as long as the sunlight can't find me." He answered.

Dracula bent down beside you and held your hand. It was so cold now. Only a couple hours ago it was warm and soft. It was almost hard to believe it had only been a couple hours, it felt much longer to him.

Henry yawned, unable to stay awake for another second. He took off his coat folding it into a makeshift pillow and rested his head on it against the cold floor. He missed his bed, but that went up in the fire. Stupid townspeople. He thought to himself as he fell asleep.

Van Helsing didn't sleep either, although he wanted to. He couldn't even remember the last time he actually had a good night's sleep. His thoughts kept him up most nights, mostly about creatures of the night, but sometimes his thoughts were of you. Like how cute you were when you crinkled your nose when you were thinking or how you used to laugh when he did something you deemed silly...the little things that made him fall in love with you. If only he had told you how he felt...at least you would have known. He forced tears back, but it was becoming extremely difficult as the hours passed and you didn't wake.

"I love her too you know." Van Helsing confessed.

"What?" Dracula sneered, glaring at him from over his shoulder, but Lawrence paid him no mind.

"Yes...for a long time. I never told her." He said his voice cracking.

"You're a fool!" Dracula scoffed. Van Helsing nodded in agreement.

"I suppose I am. Maybe if I had this never would have happened." He said with a sigh.

Dracula spun around to face him. "What do you mean by that?!" He snarled. Van Helsing got up off the floor where he sat and came face to face with him, staring into his cold, dark eyes.

"I think you know what I mean. If I told her than maybe she would be with me instead of being dead because she fell in love with you!" He accused, finally losing his temper.

"How dare you!" Dracula angrily spat, smacking Van Helsing hard into a wall. "She could never love someone like you!" Van Helsing rubbed his head, feeling dazed. "You're pathetic! Weak! A miserable excuse for a mortal!"

"Am I? I'm not the one that has to hide from the sun or cower in fear of the cross." Lawrence retorted, lifting himself back on his feet. He looked at you and took a deep breath, knowing that you wouldn't have wanted them to fight.

"So much blood has been spilled, Dracula. Haven't you had enough?" He asked, trying to reason with him.

"No. Not till I have spilled yours." He hissed.

"Then I guess we are destined to do this forever." Van Helsing sighed.

"Forever is short in the life of a vampire. But you will never see it. " He swore through gritted teeth.

"I don't want to see forever. I'm tired. I've seen enough death and despair to last several lifetimes. I will eventually die, but there are things that are worse than death." Van Helsing admitted. Dracula's face softened a little as he mulled over his enemy's words in his mind.

"Get. Out." Dracula said, turning away. He didn't want to admit it, but Van Helsing was right. Living forever did feel like a curse. There were many times he wondered what it was like to be really dead. It must be glorious...

"I would like to stay a little while longer..." Van Helsing started to ask, taking a small step toward Dracula.

"Don't push it Dr. Van Helsing. I'm letting you go alive. Don't make me change my mind." Dracula warned.

"May I have one last look at her then?" He asked. Dracula nodded stepping aside. Van Helsing slowly walked up to the coffin and reached inside to touch your hand. It was still cold as ice.

He felt tears well up in his eyes again. "I'm sorry Y/N...for everything. If only it were me in that coffin instead of you. You of all people on this Earth didn't deserve this." He whimpered before placing gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Goodbye."

As you lay there, you tried to call out to them to tell them that you weren't dead, but you couldnt. It felt like there was an invisible force controlling you, preventing you from moving at all. You couldn't even breathe, it was almost like you were drowning and your lungs were being filled to the brim with water. Everything hurt. Wherever you were it was pitch black. You were frightened. If only Vlad or Lawrence could help you, even Henry. You didn't even know why you were here...oh right you're dead. Is this what it was like to be dead?

From the darkness, a small voice said, "Go back."

"We must go back." It implored you, sounding desperate.

"We? Who is we?" You ask. Suddenly, a bright light appeared blinding you. Squinting, you could make out a strange, blurry figure and faint whispering could be heard emanating from within the light. As you looked closer, it became clearer and you realized who it was. It was Dracula. You tried calling out to him once more, but he couldn't hear you. His appearance was different. He looked younger and was significantly less pale. He had longer hair that fell to his shoulders, even his clothes were different. You saw behind him the castle the way it once was, like in your vision. Your heart skipped a beat when he turned to look at you, as though he just noticed you were there. Then you finally felt yourself move, but you weren't in control. It was like you were a puppet being pulled around on strings.

Dracula reached for you, pulling you into his warm embrace, which you gladly welcomed. "My dear Maria, how I've missed you." He said, kissing your cheek. Maria? Who's Maria? You wondered, feeling a twinge of jealousy.

"I've only been gone a few hours Vlad." You said to him.

"But to me it feels like an eternity." He told you, kissing you again. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Without warning, the light flashed again and you found yourself in a church. You did not recognize this place, yet it seemed to familar. Before you stood Vlad and behind him was...Lawrence? No it couldn't be?! It certainly looked like him. The face was the same, but the hair was different. It was only slightly shorter than Dracula's and he was sporting a goatee. He didn't look as happy as your beloved. In fact, he looked extremely bored. Was this a wedding?

You slowly walked up the isle towards them, feeling all eyes on you. You didn't even know who any of these people were. All you knew is that you wanted to get out of there. You glanced up at Vlad and saw how much love glimmered in his eyes and you felt your nerves instantly calm. The room just seemed to fade away and only he mattered. He held out his hand for you, helping you up the last remaining steps.

"You ready, my dear?" He whispered.

"Of course. I can't wait to start my new life with you. " You happily answered.

"As am I."

Then the scene disappeared again much to your disappointment, this time to something a little less happy...this time you found yourself in a duel against Van Helsing. At first you weren't sure if it was a friendly duel, but quickly realized that it very much wasn't. This was a duel that could only have one victor.

"It should have been me on the thrown! All of this should have been mine!" Van Helsing yelled, smashing his sword into yours with a loud clang that rung throughout the great hall. You parried and sent him flying backward with a hard kick.

"The thrown! The castle! You..." He lunged at you once more, but you blocked it and counter attacked. He twisted your blade around his and pulled you close, your faces inches apart.

"You could never have me." You spat, pulling away.

"You wouldn't have had a choice." He retorted with a sickening grin. You could feel the anger building up inside you. With a swift flick of your sword you slashed him in the face, leaving a deep cut in his cheek. He chuckled. You were a fiesty one. Too fiesty for your own good, he thought.

"That's the difference between you and Vlad," You began. "He doesn't tell me what to do." And with that you swung at him once more, this time breaking his sword in two. You held your sword to his neck.

You caught a glimpse of your reflection in the blade. That's when it dawned on you. You were Maria, Dracula's wife, and you remembered him telling you that you looked like her. It all made sense now. This is why you were having these visions. They are your own memories. Could it be that you and Maria are one in the same?

"Surrender traitor." You hissed, your blade mere inches away from his throat.

"I am no traitor." Van Helsing said.

"Fine then, a coward."

He rolled his eyes."At least I fight my own battles. Where's your beloved now?" He pointed out, looking smug.

"Fixing your mistake. Don't think I don't know what you've done. Vlad might trust you, but I sure as hell don't." You stated, inching your blade closer to his neck.

"And what will he say when he finds out that you've killed me?"

"The truth. He has no reason to doubt me." You answered confidently.

"Well, we'll find out sooner than you think." Confused you followed his eyes over to where Dracula now stood.

"What is this?!" He asked looking at the both of you.

"Vlad, he is a traitor. I caught him giving information to the Turks. He is league with the enemy." You explained. While you were distracted, Van Helsing quickly pulled a small dagger from within his sleeve and slammed it deep into your stomach. You dropped your sword falling to the floor alongside it writhing in pain. Dracula's heart stopped. It felt like time had slowed down as he ran to you and held you in his arms.

"Maria, no..." He let out a small cry, running his hand over your wound.

"I had to do something...I love you Vlad. I told you the day I married you that I would do anything for you." You told him, cupping his cheek.

"Then don't leave me...I can't live without you." He whimpered, sensing the end was coming for you.

"We will meet again, my love." You promised, sealing it with a quick kiss as the life faded from your body.

You could feel everything fading away again as you returned to the darkness. You mind was dizzy from everything you had just witnessed. It all felt so strange...

"Go back." The voice repeated again.

"He needs you. Go back!"

Suddenly, you felt whatever was holding you back had finally released you. Eager to get out of there you ran through the darkness hoping to find a way out. You didn't know where you were running, but you had to try. The darkness seemed endless and just as you were about to give up, the ground gave way below your feet and you finally woke up.

You gasped for air feeling as though you were drowning. You sat up clutching your throat, trying to catch your breath. Why was it so hard to breathe?

"Y/N?! Dracula gasped. He couldn't believe it. You were alive. It worked! It wasn't too late after all!

"Y/N! You're alright! Thank God." Van Helsing sighed in relief, smiling like he never smiled before.

"You!?" You exclaimed, backing away from him, your past memory still fresh in your mind. He looked at you feeling confused and hurt. Before Van Helsing could say anything, Dracula appeared at his side reaching out to you.

You looked over at him, eyes wide. "Vlad...I...I remember." You breathed.

"What?" He asked. "What do you remember?

"Everything."

#omg so many parts #I hope its not too much #😅#hope you guys like it!#dracula x reader #van helsing x reader #hammer dracula #x reader #reader insert #christopher lee

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teshamerkel · 3 years

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Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 5] (17 Pages)

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Nia talks to Maggie about Tobias’ past and makes a decision of her own.

Nia watches the alcove where Tobias vanished, hearing the charmander settle into his nest with a rustle. After a few moments of quiet, she looks to Maggie for some explanation for the emotional display that just happened, but the meganium is clearly elsewhere, eyes a thousand miles away and expression pinched with worry. Nia sets her book to the side and rises to her feet, approaching the older Pokémon.

“Maggie?” She murmurs, resting a hand on the older woman’s leg.

The meganium jolts out of her thoughts, looking down at the riolu. For fear of Tobias hearing her concerns, Nia just frowns and tilts her head, hoping her question is clear. The meganium seems to get the message, and nods her head in the direction of the doorway into the hall. Nia nods and follows her, and the two of them walk away from their quarters.

“What—“

“Hold on, dear,” Maggie says. Nia obediently shuts her mouth again, wondering where the meganium is taking her.

They end up back at the staircase without a word, and climb it upwards, past two more floors, and then finally step out onto...a mail floor? Open patches of foliage let in fresh windy air and a flood of sunlight, and Nia sees a large white pelican Pokémon land on one of the wooden platforms, a few letters visibly clamped in his beak.

She follows Maggie past the bird, and they only stop once they reach another landing spot. Maggie walks up to the edge and sinks comfortably onto the wooden planks. Nia follows her lead, sitting next to her and enjoying the way the wind whips at her fur. The sun is nice and warm, too, and they have a breathtaking view of the forest from above. The blue sky looks endless, and she’s only a little nervous about how high up they are.

“Sorry, dear. Tobias would have a fit if he heard us talking about him like he wasn’t there,” Maggie says, just loud enough to be heard over the breeze. She sounds unbearably fond.

Nia looks over at her, noticing for the first time how...old Maggie looks. She’s seemed so full of life ever since Nia met her, but now she just looks worn. Sad. The creases under her eyes seem deeper.

“C-Can I...can I ask what happened down there?” Nia asks.

Maggie smiles, the slightest bit. “I’ll tell you what I can. Most of it isn’t my story to tell.”

Nia nods, remembering the way Tobias looked when he’d first returned to the room. Pale and shaken, eyes swollen from crying. He’d looked so vulnerable. So different from the scathing, aloof Pokemon she’s become accustomed to over the past few days.

“I met Tobias around, oh...eight years ago, when he was only nine.” Maggie starts. “I was far from the guild at the time, on a trip to buy herbs from a little town at the base of a mountain range. Isolated place, but lovely. That’s where I met Tobias.”

Maggie smiles, and it looks bittersweet. “He was such a tiny thing, refusing to speak to anyone. And he had been…hurt. Badly. The healer there told me they’d found him unconscious just outside the village. I asked what they planned to do with him, seeing as he was alone, and they didn’t have an answer. So I offered to bring him back to the guild with me.”

Nia looks up at the meganium with open admiration. “You took him in, just like that?”

Maggie smiles. “I did. From what the healer told me, he had nowhere to go and I figured he would do better someplace different, far away from whatever memories lied in those mountains. I thought I would have Arlo raise him in the nursery, but in the course of our trip home that feisty little charmander stole my heart. He’s been with me ever since.”

Nia suddenly understands the clear familial affection between the two, the intense fear on the meganium’s face when Tobias talked about hunting down those outlawed Pokémon. “So...is it a bad idea for Tobias to become a Seeker?” She asks.

Maggie hesitates, looking thoughtfully at the blue sky. “No. Not bad. He’s always been drawn to battling and training, and I think it would actually do him well, to get out into the world. To meet other Pokémon and grow. Here he is allowed to stagnate, to wallow in his anger. In some ways, becoming a Seeker would likely be the best option for him.”

“So you’re only discouraging him because…he’s going after those criminals?”

Maggie sighs. “Tobias is a stubborn one, and once he sets his mind to something, it’s nigh impossible to change it. If my guess as to what those three did is correct, then I understand why he feels the need to hunt them down. But they’re S-rank Pokemon. It would take years for him to become strong enough to defeat them. Even then, it would be incredibly dangerous, and he could...”

The meganium trails off, her voice beginning to shake even as her posture remains tall and strong. Nia shivers at the implications of what the outlaws could do. What they’ve already done.

Maggie clears her throat. “I just fear that he will become too wrapped up in his search for revenge. That it will consume him. Or that he’ll become too discouraged when they cannot be found. That he’ll give up on everything.”

Nia doesn’t know what to say to that, frowning as she watches a tan bird Pokémon with a crest of red feathers land lightly at the next port down. What a tricky situation. On one hand, it sounds like becoming a Seeker would be great for the temperamental charmander. Maybe give him an opportunity to vent and learn. On the other hand, his motivations for pursuing such a path in the first place are incredibly dangerous. Potentially even fatal.

“I know I can’t stop him either way,” Maggie says, almost as if speaking to herself. “So I suppose all I can do is support him and pray to Virizion that he stays safe.” Nia reaches out to lay a comforting hand on the meganium’s side. Maggie smiles down at her, looking grateful. “I’ll miss him terribly. Tantrums and all.”

Nia laughs.

There’s a moment of quiet, and then Maggie speaks again, voice only a bit forced in its cheeriness. “So! I believe we got distracted in our chat earlier. Have you made any decisions regarding what you would like to do here at the guild?”

Nia pulls her fluffy tail into her lap, stroking at it as she considers how to answer. She has been giving her options a lot of thought—and even considered a few other paths that sounded interesting, such as a nursery worker or an archivist. But it seems like Tawny and Alistair were right. Her two best options for finding answers are still the same as she’d been told at the very start.

“I’m leaning towards becoming a researcher,” Nia says, hesitantly. “I want to find out everything I can about humans and my past, and how to return to my old life. So that seems like the best option. Tawny and Alistair recommended it to me.”

Maggie hums. “Seems like a sensible choice. You’re quite a clever, curious sort.”

Nia feels herself flush under her fur. “S-So you think that would be my best option?”

Maggie turns to look at her. “Did you have something else in mind?”

“W-Well...” Nia doesn’t even know why she’s bringing this up. She knows she could never do it, but... “Tawny did say that a, uh, Seeker would actually be the best way to go about looking for my past.”

“But?”

“But I could never do that,” Nia says with an awkward laugh.

“And why not?”

Nia stops avoiding the dinosaur’s gaze. “What?”

“Why not?” Maggie asks again, sounding genuinely confused.

“B-Because!” Nia stammers, gesturing to herself. “I’m me! I don’t know anything about this world and I don’t know how to fight—not that I even want to—a-and exploring sounds way too intense for me. I was practically useless when Tobias and I got stuck in that dungeon! I’d probably be too scared to do anything, a-and...yeah.” She trails off lamely.

“It sounds like you’re talking yourself out of it,” Maggie observes. “You can always learn more about this world and how to fight. You’re a fast learner.”

“Y-Yeah, I guess, but…”

“Perhaps you should give it more thought,” Maggie says, a hint of a smile at her lips. “You might surprise yourself if you try it out.”

Nia looks down at her paws, thoughts even more muddled than before. Despite Maggie’s encouragement, she doesn’t know why she keeps thinking that becoming a Seeker is an actual possibility. A researcher would really be more suited to her personality. And yet, the idea keeps popping into her head. Sure, it would be the fastest way for her to get more information, but still! The Pokémon world sounds terrifying for Seekers!

...Terrifying and, admittedly, more than a bit exciting. In the span of four or five days she’s already seen so many different kinds of Pokémon and heard of so many amazing phenomena just within the walls of the guild. She can only imagine what kind of incredible things are out in the rest of the Pokémon world! Nia doesn’t know exactly what kind of person she was as a human, but she wonders if maybe she always dreamed of something like this, of having the chance to take crazy adventures. Her heart races just thinking about it, even as nervous butterflies fill her stomach.

God, she has no idea what to do now.

“Don’t look so worried, dear,” Maggie says, amused. “You can always try out one path and switch if it doesn’t suit you.”

“I guess,” Nia says, looking out at the sky again. The forest seems to stretch on forever beneath them, wild and vast. The riolu finally admits to herself that some part of her itches to explore it.

__________________________________________________

Nia and Maggie spend a while longer at the port area before making their way back downstairs. Tobias is still sleeping, so Nia sits near Maggie as she works and pulls out her book, a text detailing different Pokémon types, where they tend to reside, and what their individual weaknesses and strengths are. It’s...fascinating. Weird, but fascinating.

The riolu doesn’t even register the time flying by until Maggie nudges her on the way to wake up Tobias. It’s lunch already? By time the charmander is up, yawning and blinking blearily at Nia with much less animosity than usual, she realizes just how hungry she is.

“Thanks, Maggie,” Toby slurs, stretching. Nia stands up and does the same, wincing at how stiff her tail feels. Was she sitting on it? Yikes.

Maggie responds with a light brush of her vine across Tobias’ head. “Of course. Would you two bring me something back?”

Uh-oh. She’s not coming with them? Nia looks over to Tobias, expecting to see him glaring back at her. Instead, he just glances at her with mild annoyance instead of boiling hatred. That’s a step up, she thinks. “Sure. C’mon.”

He turns to leave, and Nia shoots Maggie an uncertain look before hurrying after the charmander. The walk down to the cafeteria is almost as awkward as the first day she arrived here. Nia wants to fill the silence up with some sort of conversation, but she knows that she’ll get shut down unless she picks something the charmander actually wants to talk about.

Oh. Duh.

Nia works up the courage to ask, “S-So, uh, what do you have to do to become a Seeker?”

Tobias sends her a wary look. “Why do you wanna know?”

Nia shrugs in return, not daring to mention that she’s thinking of becoming a Seeker herself. “Just, uh, curious.”

For a moment Tobias is silent, and Nia thinks he’s not going to answer her. Then he surprises her by saying, “You have to apply to the Seekers organization with at least one other teammate. Then you start preliminary training and take on missions to raise your rank and get rewards.”

Nia blinks at his back, shocked that she actually got a civil answer out of the charmander. “Oh. Who’s going to be your partner?”

Tobias doesn’t answer her, and Nia wisely decides not to push her luck.

They make it to the cafeteria, and although Nia is tempted to follow Tobias into his chosen food line, she instead joins a different queue to try and give the charmander a few minutes of space. She steps into line behind a graceful-looking green deer Pokemon and grabs a tray.

To her surprise, the deer sends a cursory glance over her shoulder, and then does a double-take, large ears perking up. “Oh, wow! You’re Nia, right?”

Nia tries not to lean away from the sudden enthusiasm. “U-Uh. Yes?”

The deer turns around and grins at her with bright eyes. “I was hoping I’d run into you soon! I’m Andyn, a Seeker here at the guild.”

Nia tries not to be overwhelmed by how adorable this Pokemon is. She even has a flower tucked behind her ear! She’s probably around Nia’s age, though, so the riolu tries to sound casual when she smiles and replies, “N-Nice to meet you.”

“There’s so much I’ve been wanting to ask you about being a human and how weird it must be to wash up here all of a sudden—you’re the talk of the guild these days!” The deer laughs at Nia’s stricken expression. “Don’t look so freaked out! It’s a good thing.” The line moves forward, but Andyn simply steps back to keep up with it. “I’m just grabbing something to go, but you totally need to eat with me and my team sometime! ‘Kay?”

Nia doesn’t know what to say, clutching the tray close to her chest, so she just nods. Andyn giggles again and turns to collect her meal from the cafeteria Pokemon—some sort of orange, fiery-looking...chicken?

There’s a horrible KFC joke in there somewhere, Nia just knows it.

The chicken Pokémon hands Andyn a cloth bag of food, and the deer accepts it with a nod of thanks. She smiles again at Nia before bounding off. The riolu turns to order her own food, fighting off a giddy sort of feeling in her chest. Andyn seemed really nice! Maybe they could end up being friends in the future.

By the time Nia has her food and sits down across from Tobias, the charmander is already busy eating. He’s cooking a few small berries in his hands, blowing a plume of fire over them like a tiny blowtorch. Nia watches in fascination, nibbling on a juicy blue berry.

When the charmander finally crunches down on the browned berries, Nia takes a chance and asks, “H-How exactly do you do that?”

Tobias pauses to give her a look. “Do what?”

Nia points at her own mouth. “Breathe fire. Like, I know it’s a natural thing for your type, but how does it, uh...feel? Do you breathe it out from your stomach or your throat, o-or..?”

Tobias blinks at her, brow furrowing. For a moment, Nia’s sure he’s about to snap at her. But then he just rolls his eyes and says, “You’re so weird.” Before Nia can feel embarrassed, he continues, “I don’t know the exact science behind it, but the flames come from an organ near my stomach. You’d have to look in a textbook to find out the exact name. We just call it a flame pouch.”

Nia, awed just to have the charmander talking to her in something other than insults, nods.

“It feels...kind of like forcing out a breath of air,” he continues, clearly searching for the right words. “Voluntary. But also natural. It’s hard to describe.”

Nia nods. She has no doubt it’s a complex feeling, when having to really think about it. Like trying to explain to someone how blinking feels.

Idly, the riolu wonders if maybe the charmander seems so much less irritable because of his decision to become a Seeker. Maybe he’d been a lot more unhappy about his position and the unanswered questions of the outlaw trio than even Maggie had realized. He certainly seems less angry now than the entire four days she’s been here. Nicer.

“You gonna respond or just stare like an espurr?” Tobias snaps, breaking her out of her thoughts.

Okay, maybe not that much nicer.

“S-Sorry,” Nia says, looking back to her food and picking through the berries. “That’s really interesting. I can’t even imagine what that feels like.”

She glances up in time to see Tobias lifting a brow at her. “Why would you? You’re a fighting type. You can do things that I can’t, too.”

Nia perks up at that. “I...guess that’s true. And I could use moves, a-and uh...aura abilities if I just practiced, right? And had a teacher?”

“I mean, yeah,” Tobias says, looking confused about her sudden interest. “All Pokemon can. Some are naturally stronger than others, some are better strategists, but any Pokémon can fight.”

Nia takes a moment to soak that statement in, chewing thoughtfully on a berry. Any Pokémon can fight. So...even her.

“A-and fighting is...different for Pokémon, right? You guys do it like, for fun. And it’s not, like...um...”

Tobias must see where she’s going, because his snout scrunches up in clear distaste. “No, I already told you we don’t go around maiming each other, jeez. Most battles end with a knockout and non-lethal injuries, even between outlaws and Seekers.”

Nia feels herself relax ever so slightly. She’d already read as much from some of the books she’d checked out of the archives and saw evidence of it herself when she was in the dungeon with Tobias, but she’ll take all the reassurance she can get that battling is normal for Pokemon, at least to a degree. Maybe...maybe she could make this Seeker thing work. She just has to scare off the feral Pokémon in mystery dungeons and stuff, right? And she wouldn’t have to take on any outlaw work...

Tobias looks at her strangely but doesn’t comment on her silence. He simply goes back to his food with a huff. The rest of the meal is quiet, but not uncomfortably so, and when they go to leave, Tobias stops by one of the queues to ask for a specific blend of food items.

Nia blinks at how many of the little purple berries he requests. “Th-That’s...a lot.”

Tobias rolls his eyes and takes the bag of food, not answering as he leaves the cafeteria. Nia follows him back up to their quarters. When Maggie greets them both with a warm smile, Tobias jabs the sack lunch at her with a blunt, “Here.”

The meganium takes the offered food, peeking inside. Clearly delighted, she chirps, “So many bluk berries today! Thank you, Tobias.”

The charmander grumbles something about the meal coming that way before moving over to Maggie’s desk and grabbing a stack of dried herbs and a mortar and pestle to grind them up. Huh. Tobias is definitely coarse and filled to the brim with anger, but the more Nia sees of him when he’s not ignoring her or sending sharp comments her way, the more she thinks that maybe he’s not that bad of a Pokémon.

Of course, just as she’s thinking this, Tobias glances up, catches her staring at him, and growls, “You could get off your tail and help, you know.”

Nia jumps, bustling over to Maggie’s desk to grab a second mortar and pestle, as well as some herbs. “S-Sorry!”

She sits down on the ground near him and listens carefully as Maggie points out which herbs to grind together into medicinal blends. The riolu has a pathetic first attempt at using the unfamiliar bowl and rod of stone, and Tobias looks like he doesn’t know if he wants to laugh at her or set her on fire for her failure.

Maggie reassures her, and she tries again.

__________________________________________________

Nia wakes up the next morning to Tobias’ voice, loudly and angrily ranting about something in Maggie’s main quarters. She lifts her head and blinks at the charmander’s empty nest, ears twitching.

“—can’t form a Seeker team by myself! That’s ridiculous! I’m strong enough for E-rank missions at least.”

“Tobias,” Maggie’s voice sighs, much quieter. “You know that you can’t be the sole member of an exploration team. It’s safety protocol.”

“It’s stupid, is what it is,” Tobias growls, slightly quieter.

“Have you tried speaking with anyone in the guild about creating a team with you? Or perhaps about joining an existing one?”

There’s a moment of silence, and even Nia can feel its weight in her half-awake state.

“Yeah. No one wants me,” he rasps, just loud enough for her to hear. “You know I don’t get along with anyone here anyways.”

“Maybe if you just tried talking to them—“

“Maggie, they already decided. They decided years ago. I’ll talk to August and find some other way to start a team.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Maggie sighs. There’s so much heartache in that simple breath. After not hearing Tobias for another minute or so, Nia decides to get up, rubbing at her eyes as she steps into Maggie’s quarters. The floral Pokémon is reading through a slip of paper, but looks up as Nia yawns.

“Good morning, dear,” Maggie says, using a vine to stroke back the messy fur on the riolu’s head.

Nia takes a moment to relish the feeling, her eyes slipping closed. It’s...soothing. Something about it feels familiar and comforting, and an unexpected jab of homesickness hits her in the chest.

Taking a shaky breath, Nia glances around to distract herself. “Tobias is gone?”

“Mm.”

“He…can’t find a partner.”

Maggie stills. “You heard that, then. Sorry for waking you.”

Nia shakes her head. “I-It’s fine. Can he form a team if he can’t find a Pokémon to be his partner?”

Maggie doesn’t answer, and that tells the riolu everything she needs to know. The meganium sets aside the paper she’d been reading, rubbing at her face with a vine instead. “That boy’s pushed away just about every Pokémon in the guild. It doesn’t surprise me that no one wants to form a team with him, with how he treats them.”

Nia looks up at Maggie, head tilted. The older Pokémon sounds so uncharacteristically frustrated.

“He needs to learn to act like a decent Pokémon, show some patience and empathy,” she goes on, shaking her head. “He’s kind, really he is, but he’s just so caught up in his own emotions and his own grief, always thinking that other Pokémon are out to get him. I thought he’d heal more than he has over the years, maybe learn to let others in, but...” she trails off.

For a moment, Nia wonders if Maggie has forgotten that she’s here, standing quietly at her feet. But then the meganium looks at her with tired eyes.

“Apologies, Nia. I’m just worried about him. Ignore this old Pokemon’s ramblings.”

“I get it,” Nia murmurs. “Have you looked into some sort of grief counseling for him?” She doesn’t know exactly what went down in Tobias’ past to make him so bitter, but she can take a few guesses. If her namesake Pokemon discovered a new form of emotional therapy, surely Pokemon have something like grief counseling figured out, too.

Maggie looks surprised that she would know about something like that, or maybe just that she would suggest it. Then, she sinks to the ground, nodding. “He refuses to talk to anyone about it. I’ve tried reading books about coping methods and applying them myself, but he’s still so…hurt. So lost.”

Nia frowns, turning to look thoughtfully at the doorway and out into the hall. Lost. She thinks she can understand that feeling, at least in some way. She thinks back to her and Tobias’ most recent conversation in the cafeteria. They’d almost had a civil interaction with one another. She’d asked a question and he’d answered without biting her head off. Kind of. And the more she thinks about it, the more appealing the thought of becoming a Seeker is.

Maybe...she could help.

“I could be his partner,” Nia whispers, trying the thought out loud.

Maggie’s head snaps up, antennae raised in surprise. “Come again?”

Nia cringes under the meganium’s bewilderment, but offers up the idea once more. “I-I could be his partner?”

“Now hang on, dear, I know you’re just trying to help, but this is a big commitment you’re signing up for. You know how Tobias can get—he’s not an easy Pokémon to get along with, let alone to have as your partner.”

Nia frowns. She’s not just doing this as some sort of self-sacrificing need to be helpful! Okay, sure, maybe she does want to help a little bit, but she knows what she’s getting herself into here. Barbed words and remarks, someone who she needs to be able to trust with her life but hardly trusts not to shove her down the guild’s staircase when she asks too many questions. Someone who probably hates her guts.

And yet...Nia can’t help thinking that maybe this is the answer they’ve all been looking for. If Nia is going to become a Seeker and find the answers she needs, she’s going to need a partner who knows what they’re doing and who will push her to get better. Tobias needs a teammate willing to put up with his attitude, and Maggie wants her adopted grandson to try something new and conquer his past. This could be the solution to all of their problems.

Of course, it could also go horribly, terribly wrong.

When Nia comes back to the present, she has a hand at her chin and feels Maggie’s gaze boring into her head. “Do you think it’s a terrible idea?” Nia asks, looking up to the meganium. “Honestly.”

Maggie looks conflicted. “For Tobias, any willing partner is a great thing. As much as I would miss him and fear for his safety, becoming a Seeker could help him in so many ways.”

“But?”

“But...” Maggie reaches out a vine, placing it on Nia’s shoulder and giving her a squeeze. “I would worry about you. Tobias is a good Pokemon deep down, but he is sharp and sorely lacking in sympathy. I fear you would be miserable as his partner.”

Nia feels her ears pin back, eyes flicking away to stare at the floor.

“You two would spend almost every day together, sometimes all day and night,” Maggie goes on, tone serious. “And as much as I want to believe that someone like you could help him soften up, I wouldn’t want your own feelings to be a casualty in the process.”

Maybe...maybe this is a bad idea. Nia can hardly handle the charmander now without crying or cowering away, and she’s only been interacting with him in short bursts for less than a week. Could she really handle him as her partner? Someone to be around constantly? Does she want to? Obviously he wouldn’t want her as his partner, but he seems pretty restricted in his options. To the logical part of her brain, it kind of sounds like the worst plan in the world.

And yet, something in Nia recognized the vulnerability in Tobias’ eyes when he came back from the outlaw board with shaking hands. She can’t help recalling his frequent soft spot towards Maggie, as much as he tries to hide it. Their somewhat civil conversation in the cafeteria earlier. Her small sense of victory the one or two times she’s gotten him to look anything near amused instead of constantly angry at the world. The desperation in his voice when he was speaking to Maggie just minutes ago about needing a partner.

Maybe she trusts her gut too much, maybe she lets her heart rule too often over her head, maybe she’s even got some sort of savior complex. But before she can overthink it, Nia looks back up to Maggie with determined eyes. “I’m going to ask to be his partner.”

Maggie’s face goes slack with surprise, and then—to Nia’s shock—she starts to laugh, throwing her head back.

“Wh-What?” Nia asks.

“Nothing,” Maggie says as her laughter dies down. She looks down at the riolu with a fond expression, seeming much more at peace. “I simply agree with your decision all of a sudden.”

Nia tilts her head, and the meganium smiles. “Dear, I haven’t seen you look so fired up the entire week you’ve been here. Your mind is made up, and I bet that I have as much hope to change it as I do Tobias’ own stubbornness. Maybe you two will be better for each other than we think.”

Nia doesn’t know how to respond to that, but at least she feels reassured that Maggie is on her side. Next, she just needs to convince Tobias.

#pmd #pokemon mystery dungeon #pokemon #meganium #riolu #pmd seekers of soul #tesha writes #tesha draws

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yoditorian · 3 years

Text

lacuna- part 5

din/reader

i want to say a massive thank you for everybody who’s supported the content creator strike, it’s really important to draw attention to the issues we face and hopefully it’ll mean that engagement goes up and people will start respecting creators more 💛 as always, a massive thank you to @brothersdrxke for drifting with me on this

MASTERLIST

word count: 3.4k

warnings: probably some swears, poetic allusions to smut, din experiences emotion, 18+ no babies thanks

You don’t see Din for years, but he never fully leaves your mind.

Green Squadron gets pulled every which way across the galaxy, and you follow your orders. From the outer atmosphere above Scarif, to the Battle of Yavin, to some Outer Rim planet you barely spent a day on where the white ground turns red with every footstep. You see more stars than you ever thought possible. Mercifully, the endless missions and drills leave you little time to wonder what the Mandalorian might be up to in your absence.

You’re not thinking about him under hails of blaster fire and explosives, nor while you duck and weave through smoke and flame to cover your teammates in the air. But he comes to you in the small hours, hours you spend trying to sleep, hours you spend wishing you were tucked up close against his side. You still claw through your memory for his smell, long since disappeared from the blanket you keep with you. Metallic and warm and home.

You’ve not used that word to describe anything for a long time, but it feels right.

Still, you live. Life in the Rebellion keeps you busy. Between meetings and missions and drills, you barely have enough time to eat, or sleep, or think some days. You’re grateful for that. The people around you are just as engrossed by war, but they don’t seem to let it get in the way. There’s love and light and laughter and you let it engulf you when you can. Nights spent in the rec rooms on your assigned cruiser, playing games of sabacc or keeping friends steady on barstools at the tiny cantina. People don’t stop living, so neither do you. Shara and Kes had married as soon as he was between missions, not long after she’d held your hand in a death grip at the prospect of her possible pregnancy. And you’re the first to hold their little boy when he comes, a week earlier than expected and furious, screaming into the galaxy. Life is good. But it’s missing something.

You try to live, at least. You freely give out smiles and stories and time, but you can never bring yourself to take it further. They always lean in close and you keep the distance. Break eye contact. You can’t do it. It’s not right. To do that to him. Even through the radio silence, even through the way you feel him just out of reach. You’re always kind about it, and nobody ever takes it badly, eyes soft as you apologise and tell them you’re spoken for. He hasn’t, but you are. That’s how it’ll always be.

He creeps into your dreams until he’s always there, his arms the only thing you can think of in the moments before you sleep.

Somewhere outside, you’re always outside with him. And there’s no armour or uniforms or obligations, just you and him and the sky as it turns a soft shade of pink. He’s not wearing his helmet, something you know as solidly as you know how to fly, but you can never quite stretch up to see his face. You don’t mind. You don’t mind because in this reality, he loves you. He tells you he loves you, over and over, and that’s enough. It doesn’t last long. The clouds roll in, dark and heavy, and Din’s warmth disappears from beneath you. Instead, you’re swallowed into the black as Captain Antilles tells you to suit up and move out. You don’t know where you’re going, but the weight sitting in the pit of your stomach makes you certain you’re not coming back.

You wake up in a cold sweat, breathing hard, and try to bring your heart rate down. Other pilots in the barracks are fast asleep around you, breathing in unison. Except one.

“You have a lot of those,” Shara whispers, the rest of the squadron still snoring, “Bad dreams, I mean.”

“Did you get a holo today?” You don’t want to talk about your dream. The fear still courses through you, it seemed so real. Missions are getting more and more dicey as each side gets more and more desperate, it’s not clear who’s winning anymore. If anybody. You can count on one hand the number of pilots who’ve come back completely unscathed in the last few months.

“He’s talking properly now, I swear every time I see him he’s bigger.” She’s trying not to cry, and you have the good grace not to mention it. Being away from her son for this long leeches at Shara’s spirit. Little Poe is safe and happy and being doted on by a relative of Kes’s, far away from the Empire’s reach. But sleep escapes her most nights, replaced by the pain of watching him grow from a distance, and the very real threat that she won’t get to see him grow up at all. You stretch your arm out across the narrow gap between your bunks and find her hand in the darkness. It’s all either of you have.

“We’re flying out to the Endor system in 36 hours. The second Death Star is mid-production, not operational, we’ll hit it before it’s done.” There’s none of the sarcastic warmth you’ve come to expect from your team commander over the years, this is it. The final stand. The noise of the cruiser’s hangar fades away as your brain switches to fight mode and you process your orders. The end of the Empire, or the Rebellion. Three possible outcomes: you win and live, you win and die, or you lose and die. The Empire will not leave survivors. Like any good pilot, you pretend that the odds don’t scare you.

You’re going to lose people. Friends, colleagues, strangers will fall, but that’s the risk you run in the Rebellion. Every single person would lay down their life at a moment’s notice if it meant the chance of success. You’re the best you’ve ever been, a veritable armoury of skills that would make your sixteen year old self faint. If it was down to just you, you’d make it out of any dogfight no doubt about it. You have no fear when you’re in the air. But it’s not just you, is it? It’s Shara, and Green Squadron, and the Rebellion at large. If any of them go down, there’s no question that you’ll follow.

You’re fumbling through your pack the moment you realise you’ve made it back to the barracks, alone, the solitude is far too rare and you’re not about to waste it worrying. You’ve pressed the talk button and brought the comm up to your mouth before you’ve even figured out what you want to say. Hopes that he’ll answer, or hear you at all, aren’t exactly high. But you’re desperate enough to give it a go.

“I’m going to the inn at Mos Espa. The one from before? I’ll click when I’m there, if you’re around.” You don’t tell him that it’s because you’re pretty sure you’re going to die. And you love him, even if he doesn’t know. And you’re selfish, ultimately. You just hope he can’t tell you’re trying not to cry.

“-if you’re around.”

Your voice echoes around the cockpit of the Razor Crest, and Din tries to ignore the way it ties his stomach in knots. He misses you, so much more than he thought he would. It’s like there’s a space inside him where only you fit, like his lungs threaten to collapse without you.

He should pretend that he didn’t get the message, like the way he pretends that he doesn’t keep the long-range comm pinned to the control board of the Crest, like the way he pretends he doesn’t think about getting in touch with you every second of every day. It’s the first time he’s heard from you in a while and there’s a new bounty puck burning a hole in his pocket and he really shouldn’t be thinking about going. Except there’s something in your voice that he can’t quite work out. He doesn’t want to go so far as to call it fear, but he can’t sit there wondering. He can’t sit there as if he hasn’t missed you.

So, Din powers up the Razor Crest, and locks in the coordinates for Mos Espa.

You hadn’t even needed to ask Shara to cover for you, she offered the second the word Mando slipped out. You’ve held her through nights where all she can do is miss Kes, she understands the pain you feel every time you spot the comm in your pack. You’d asked her once if she thought you were being silly, pining over a man whose face you’ve never seen. She’d only told you to shut up, that he’s clearly not just some guy you sleep with when the opportunity arises.

“You don’t lose sleep over dick, Lieutenant.”

And she’s right, even if you’re afraid to put any other word to it.

The room hasn’t changed, although you’re not sure why some part of you had expected it to. The desk and chair are still in the same place, the bedding still a faded red, even the light in the ceiling has the same tattered lampshade. You stand by the small window, watching people’s shadows grow long as the day comes to an end. Still no word, no sign, nothing from Din.

The suns set, and he’s not here. He’s not coming. You hate how much you want to see him, just once, before you have to leave. You’re about to curl up on top of the bedcovers and sleep, until two knocks on the door echo loud and clear.

You look rough. Din doesn’t want that to be the first thing he thinks about you when he opens the door, but he can’t deny it. Your shoulders sag with exhaustion, stress, and there’s that fear he didn’t want to admit to hearing before. It’s not him you’re afraid of, but somehow he knows you won’t even acknowledge it.

“Been a while.” Years. It’s been years and that’s the first thing he can think of to say?

He’s here and now you can barely move. You spent so long preparing yourself for him not to show that you have no idea how to react now that he has. It feels like you’re walking through cobwebs.

“Yeah, it- it has been.” This is really not how you envisioned this would go. But he’s right, it has been a while. Maybe the more hopeful part of your heart wanted you to just pick up where you left off, but you’re not even exactly sure where that would be.

Din makes the decision for you. He strips his armour slowly, setting it on the desk in the same way he did the last time you stayed here, and never once takes his eyes off of you. You can feel it, like he thinks you’ll disappear if he looks away. Maybe you will.

Your jacket is already draped over the back of the chair, the night not yet cold enough to warrant more than your tattered t-shirt. It’s the one you wear under your flight suit. You’d left your old blanket on your bed back on the cruiser, you need his scent on this instead. You need to keep him with you when you take to the skies, just in case.

He steps closer to you, helmet still in place, until he’s all you can see. The cold metal presses down firm against your forehead, but it’s not uncomfortable. It feels right. In any other context, it might scare you.

“I need you.” You can’t keep the tremble out of your voice, only hoping it makes you sound desperately horny rather than terrified. Your hands knot themselves in the thick fabric of the flight suit over his chest and he just holds you there for a moment. Bare hands skim your back, reaching up underneath your shirt to find your skin. They freeze when he finds a symmetrical set of scars. The marks feel old, settled, but still carry a heat that feels more recent than the ones he’s used to feeling.

“Prod, I think the medic said it was. Don’t recommend that.” Your half-hearted laugh travels up his fingertips.

Din’s mind flashes back to years ago, to the crime syndicate he slaughtered, the ones who’d treated torture like it was dinner and a show. The rebel pilots he’d freed-

“We had the bantha-prod on the other one yesterday. Oh, the screaming.”

He decides it probably wasn’t you, the galaxy is a big place and there’s more wannabe crime lords than womp rats. The chances of you being the second pilot are slim, and if one group was using bantha-prods on prisoners there’s no doubt there would be more. They’re convenient, easy to get your hands on, and pack a decent punch. He lets his fingers rest on each of the pronged scars for a moment, and leaves it at that.

You keep your forehead pressed to the helmet and let Din strip the layers between you, breaking only when he leans back to lift the old t-shirt over your head and your eyes slip shut against the dim moonlight. You can’t see much with them open but you need to feel him, all of him, and you know he trusts you not to look. Your mind is reeling so much that you don’t even hear him slip the helmet off, you don't register that he’s bared himself to you as much as you’re bared to him until he’s pressing you down against the threadbare blankets.

It’s there that you let him consume you, take over every square inch of your skin until you belong to him completely. Just for this isolated moment, as if the war doesn’t exist. And you revel in it, you lose yourself and let him guide you through it all. Committing his every touch, every kiss, every breath to your memory. This is what you’ll think of when you go down tomorrow. You’ll think of him and the tight feeling in your heart when he kisses you and you’ll remember that he took care of you. Even when you can’t get your hands to stop shaking.

You’re in your head, he can tell. But Din knows you, far better than either of you are willing to admit, and he knows you won’t tell him. So he throws everything he is into it. Into this time with you, no idea when he’ll get to be with you again. If ever. And for once, the fear for his creed is silent. He pulls you into him until it’s impossible to tell that you’re not one single being. You need this, clearly, and his heart is so firmly in your hands that he’ll give it to you. He’ll put everything on hold for you, every time.

You’re the first one to rise from the bed, barely having caught your breath before you’re rummaging for your clothes on the floor with your eyes still clenched shut, and that’s when Din knows something’s definitely wrong. He can hear your hands shake as you pull your t-shirt back over your head.

“Hey,” He leans forward to catch your elbow, but you shrug his fingers away, “What’s wrong?”

“I have to get back to base.” Is the only explanation you offer. Din huffs and the sound makes you flinch, too sharp in the dark, as he pulls you back to the scratchy sheets. Your hands find his broad chest and you take a second to focus on his breathing, on the way his ribs expand, until you can find the right words.

“Cyar’ika.”

“I think I’m dying tomorrow.”

He says nothing. You don’t expect him to. What are you supposed to say when somebody tells you they’re going to die?

“Din, I-”

He surges up to kiss you, breathing you in and surrounding you until he is all you know. All you ever want to know.

“Tell me when you live.” He whispers, pulling his lips away just enough to speak, and hopes you’re tired enough to forget the way you promise as you tuck yourself back into his chest. He can’t let you say the words, he knows he’ll never leave if you do.

It doesn’t take much convincing to get you to stay. A few hours, he says. He’ll wake you up when you need to go, he says. You know he will, he’s never given you a reason not to trust his word. And you let yourself relax into him, curling into his side and wondering what would happen if he didn’t wake you up. What if you just stayed here, the two of you in this room, for the rest of forever? It’s a nice enough thought to clear your mind and let sleep take over.

You wake before he does, hours before the suns are meant to rise and you know it’s time to go. It hurts, to think about leaving Din here in this bed to wake up alone. Like the last time. You hope he’s not too upset with you as you fumble blindly for the rest of your abandoned clothes.

While he has seen far too much cruelty, and been far too kind to you to deserve this, you leave him sleeping. Better for him to wake at dawn and be angry with you than to wake now and convince you not to go. You know he would. You’ve never much believed in the Force, or love for that matter, but every path you’ve ever taken has led you straight back to him. That’s got to count for something.

But love isn’t something you get to have. You’re not foolish enough to convince yourself that it is. Although, if anything in the galaxy could come close, it would be Din. You leave your heart behind with him, tucked up close beside his in the tangled sheets. He’ll keep it safe, you can trust him, of that you’re certain.

“You ready?” Shara’s trying her best to sound upbeat, and you have to hand it to her. It’s difficult not to feel like this is the end, hers is the first smile you’ve seen all day.

“I think we both know the answer to that.” You reply as you tug her into a hug. You squeeze each other almost uncomfortably tightly, but part of you feels like it might be the last chance you get to hold your best friend. She’ll feel every ounce of love you have for her, even if you crack each other’s ribs. Your matching dark green flight suits feel far too new, too starched and solid, for the firefight you know is coming.

“You smell like boy.” She mumbles into your shoulder and you huff out a laugh.

“I’ll see you after.” You say when she pulls back. Neither of you are sure you’re right.

But you are. The comms fill with cheers as you watch the second Death Star crumble, the remnants of the fleet around you falling. And you can breathe. Your work, the Rebellion’s work, is far from over but this? This is everything you’ve been working towards for years. It’s hard not to feel relieved for just a moment. You catch Shara as she zips by, following her down to Endor’s surface.

You’ve barely unclipped the safety belts before she’s wrestling you out of the cockpit and down to the forest floor. You land in a heap of laughter, maybe a few tears, and wait for the adrenaline to settle.

“We did it!” Shara’s smile is wider than you’ve ever seen it as you clasp her cheeks in your hands and hold her there. You’re both swept up into somebody’s arms only a moment later, Kes Dameron’s booming laugh filling your ears, and you let the joy wash over you. You’ve gotten through the worst of it with this, your little found family of rebels, intact. If only it wasn’t so glaringly obvious that someone is missing.

Later into the night, you pull yourself away from the party, slipping down a ladder from the treehouses and making your way to the ships. It takes a moment to remember exactly where your A-Wing is, and another to dig around in your pack to find it, but you breathe a sigh of relief as your fingers close around the comm. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever will come.

“I made it.”

There’s a second, a click from the comm, and then another.

Din finally lets the tears fall, and he can breathe again.

As though the man on the other end thought better of what he was going to say. The party still rages above your head, and you try not to let it get to you.

TAGLIST (lmk if you want on or off):

@brothersdrxke @remmysbounty @aq-vetina @1800-fight-me @mandos-co @kesskirata @sarahjkl82-blog @firstofficerwiggles @keeper0fthestars @wille-zarr @rebloogggs @thevoiceinyourheadx @plants-are-better-than-humans @schreibsuchtis

#the STRESS trying to format this to post i swear i'm this close to throwing my laptop out a window #i had to copy paste every individual paragraph can someone come and kill me pls #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #lacuna #liz does words #smut

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

Does Jin Ling inherit his grandmother’s and jiejie’s yu clan traits, or is the blood too diluted?

continuation of this

“We were hoping you might be able to help,” Jiang Yanli said. “With A-Ling, that is.”

Jiang Cheng had barely put down the baby ever since they’d placed him in his arms. “Of course,” he said, leaning down to rub his nose against little Jin Ling’s forehead. “Anything you want. You want a break? I’ll watch him for a day. Month. Year? You could get started on siblings.”

“He’s not even a month old,” Jin Zixuan complained, but he had a dopey grin on his face so clearly he didn’t object. Jiang Cheng still didn’t much like the man, but he had to admit that his one good quality, sheer overwhelming devotion to Jiang Yanli, was pretty mitigating. “Stop trying to steal my son already.”

“He’s my nephew. I’m allowed to steal him,” Jiang Cheng proclaimed. Jin Ling started making little noises suggesting he was going to wake up, little grumbles that made Jiang Cheng’s heart melt, so he stuck his fingers inside Jin Ling’s mouth to pacify him.

The smile fell off Jin Zixuan’s face. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you –”

“It’s fine,” Jiang Yanli assured him. “There won’t be any problems with A-Cheng.”

Jiang Cheng was about to ask what they were talking about, and then his fingers slide a little to the side and he felt a small little bump in Jin Ling’s mouth – poison sacs nestled behind his not-yet-existent teeth.

“He takes after Mother!” he exclaimed, beaming so hard that he didn’t even mind when Jin Ling woke up with a start. Luckily, he didn’t start crying, just slobbering all over as he did his best to extract milk out of Jiang Cheng’s fingertips. He was bound to be disappointed. “Jiejie, that’s wonderful!”

Jin Zixuan’s expression suggested he wasn’t sure he quite agreed. “Yanli said that it ran in your family, the – the poison.”

“Has he poisoned someone yet? Who?”

“Me,” Jiang Yanli said proudly, as she should be. “I even fainted. Probably not from the poison, but still…”

“That’s very auspicious,” Jiang Cheng said, nodding, and looked down at Jin Ling. “You’re going to be very strong when you grow up, very strong and very filial.”

“Just like your jiujiu,” Jiang Yanli agreed with a smile. “He bit me first, too.”

Jiang Cheng flushed a little in embarrassment. His first bite – traditionally defined as the first bite of a non-clansman, since his real first bite obviously had been his own mother, during feeding – probably should have been his father, to establish close ties between father and son, but his parents had been fighting again and he’d ended up getting his teeth into Jiang Yanli first.

“You’ll be better than me,” he said to Jin Ling. “And no one will ever dare even look at you the wrong way, not ever.”

“That part doesn’t sound so bad,” Jin Zixuan said dryly. “Can you tell how strong his poison is? Jiang Yanli wasn’t able to tell – she says it’s because she didn’t get the inheritance.”

“I’ll test it as soon as possible,” Jiang Cheng promised. “And jiejie can make the antidote, of course. I’m pretty sure that’s the first thing Mother taught her how to cook.”

“Tell A-Xuan that the uncontrolled poisoning won’t be a problem for much longer,” Jiang Yanli said with a laugh. “He doesn’t believe me.”

“It just doesn’t seem logical,” Jin Zixuan protested, wrapping an arm around his wife. “Why would a baby start out strong, then get weak, only to get strong again later?”

“The venom is only strong right now because he doesn’t have any teeth to direct it,” Jiang Cheng explained. “The second his first tooth crests, it’ll become much more reasonable. Just keep an eye on who you let him bite for now – family only, ideally, and even then only ones you trust.”

“My father doesn’t understand why we don’t let him hold A-Ling for long,” Jin Zixuan said with a sigh, looking resigned. “He says I’m being too solicitous, but at the same time…”

“He wouldn’t understand,” Jiang Yanli said. “I keep telling you, what about your brother, Guangyao? He’s smart and humble; those would be good characteristics for A-Ling to absorb.”

“I’ll think about it,” Jin Zixuan said. “In the meantime, though, I’ve invited your shidi to A-Ling’s first month celebration; he can bite him then. Assuming Sect Leader Jiang doesn’t murder him on sight.”

“I’m not going to,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, averting his eyes. “And you know better than to listen to those rumors. He’s still part of my Jiang sect, isn’t he?”

They’d had a truly terrible fight, those months ago when it had all come out – Jiang Cheng had been furious beyond words at Wei Wuxian’s presumptuous actions, his lies of omission, his inexplicable coldness; Wei Wuxian had been equally infuriated when he’d learned, thanks to an intemperate slip of the tongue, that Jiang Cheng had deliberately allowed himself to be captured to preserve him…

The original plan was to fake a division between them with a fight that was more flash than substance, but reality had gotten in the way.

Jiang Cheng had needed to be carried out by his men, falling into a coma for a few days before waking back up again; Wei Wuxian had purportedly been bedridden for even longer.

Rumors had sprung up at once that Jiang Cheng had banished Wei Wuxian from the Jiang Sect, just the way they’d planned, but in actuality he never had, and he never would.

He was still pretty angry, though.

“You’ll both behave or neither of you will be seeing A-Ling,” Jiang Yanli said, reaching over and delicately prying Jin Ling out of Jiang Cheng’s arms.

“That’s unfair!”

“It isn’t. You’d better make up with A-Xian sooner rather than later, A-Cheng.”

Jiang Cheng huffed. “Whatever,” he said. “Fine. I’ll go pick him up at Yiling and escort him here – it’d be embarrassing if the first disciple of my Jiang sect arrived with nothing but a single fierce corpse at his side. Did he say what route he’d be taking to Lanling?”

“Through the Qiongqi Path,” Jin Zixuan said, “or so I recall.”

#mdzs #jiang cheng #jin ling #jiang yanli #jin zixuan #my fic #my fics #normal for the spider #Anonymous

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tainted-wine · 4 years

Text

This ask is referring to this.

(This mini fic feels like it’s all over the place. Just me enjoying some half-assed worldbuilding, I guess. I had to stop it before things got too heated because I promised myself to keep this one sfw and it’s already longer than intended. Like anon suggested, this is a fantasy AU with some Spartan inspiration. I thought it would be amusing if Hawks was the only 300-style warrior, while the rest wore more accurate and convenient armor.)

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The avian people.

A winged race known for their impish behavior and irritating ability to swoop in on unfortunate groups and settlements, spreading mischief and fleeing before they can face any consequences. The many troubles they bring has given them a sour reputation among humankind, but the sudden appearance of a lone avian on the outskirts of the country might be enough to change our perspective. Perhaps they are more than devious opportunists…

The feather moved.

You nearly tripped over your own feet when you noticed the slightest twitch of the red plume attached to the golden chain around your neck, placing a hand on the round curve of your stomach as you tried to balance yourself. Three long months—you prayed to the gods every day for both the life growing in your womb and the safety of its father.

You last saw your husband marching into battle with his head held high along with the rest of his comrades, men that scoffed at his very presence just three years ago, and probably still do, if you were to be honest. But he has earned the entire kingdom’s respect through his recent training, training that you all quickly learned wasn’t necessary.

The soldiers of this country were strong and experienced, there was no doubt about that, but they were also vastly outnumbered by the enemy forces. No matter what the proudest warrior tells you with complete confidence in their skill, numbers do matter in a battle.

The greedy kingdom that sought to rule the strong yet peaceful country you resided in was ruthless—they have taken the heads of several kingdoms’ finest warriors, and the less honorable ones surrendered and now fight under their command. Despite your spouse’s promises and reassurance, despite witnessing his amazing skills in combat firsthand, you still feared that victory was too far out of reach. It shames you to admit that you were already prepared to raise your child by your lonesome.

But then the feather moved again, this time briefly lifting off your chest before falling back down. So you weren’t seeing things.

“Miss! Please be careful!” Your maid rushed into the room when she saw you stumbling, gently holding you up. You were eternally grateful for the work she has put in caring for you and taking up some of your husband’s work. As your child grew and drained more of your energy, an extra pair of hands to take care of the house and errands was greatly appreciated.

You held onto her as you pushed through the sudden pains to reach the door. “He’s here! My necklace! They’ve returned!”

“Ah, finally! Of course they have,” she said calmly now that you weren’t in danger of falling. “I told you there was no need to worry. There are no other warriors in the world like ours,” she paused. “Well, assuming that not all avians are as gifted as your precious Keigo.”

You laughed softly. Keigo did tell you and many others that he was far from the only fighter in his homeland. Even after taking his hand in marriage, he refuses to reveal his reason for leaving his people, choosing to wander a land inhabited by humans who watched him with distrust. You have long since accepted his secretive nature.

Both of you pushed the door open and stepped outside, just in time to hear the bellow of a great horn, the sound traveling outside the city’s walls and up into the hills where your humble house stands. It wasn’t the most convenient location, but Keigo wanted to live on a higher spot, and you didn’t mind catering to his bird-like habits. Besides, waking up to soft breezes and birdsongs was much more pleasant than the bustling city.

Your maid kept a firm hold on your arm as you watched people rush through the streets and toward the gates, ready to welcome the brave men home. Your chest remained tightened. How many survivors were there? ‘It doesn’t matter,’ you selfishly thought. ‘Keigo is there. They won’t admit it, but he was the best out of all of them.’

“Don’t you even think of heading down there,” she was giving you a stern look that a mother would give a naughty child. “You’re still upholding your promise to stay close to home after falling ill so suddenly yesterday. I know you haven’t seen him in three months, but please be patient. You’ll be reunited soon.”

Your brooding may be responsible for the illness and pains that have been striking you more frequently, but frankly, if you were to ever collapse, you’d be more worried about the older woman’s heart than your own wellbeing. “Rest easy, I’m not going anywhere,” you promised her. “Besides, I’m quite certain that he’ll be coming to me very soon.”

“What? What do you mean? They need to answer to the king before they return to their families.”

“Yes, that’s what they’re expected to do...” You trailed off. There was an odd feeling in your gut, and it wasn’t the baby. It looked like everyone in the city has gathered in one giant mass, waiting for their heroes.

And then you saw him.

The gate was slowly opening, but something, someone has launched into the air and over the walls, and your heart lifted just as high. A man with a magnificent pair of crimson wings soared over each and every structure, heading up to the hills.

“Wh-H-He can’t do that! He’s ignoring the royal family’s wishes!” The poor maid was in a panic, but you were too stunned, too elated at the sight of your lover getting closer at an impossible speed.

The people of this kingdom have little exposure to non-human races. The simple sight of him dashing over the city and gracefully landing in front of you never failed to bring stars to your eyes.

Keigo Takami was already removing his bronze helmet as he approached, shaking out his head of tousled blond locks. You weren’t expecting him to look so presentable upon his return—it looked as if he had time for a decent bath before his final march home.

His bare chest looked mostly unscathed, only a few cuts and small traces of bruises littering his skin. The warriors detested his refusal to wear his chest plate; he claimed that it would only weigh him down during flight. He also rejected their weapons and relied on his own feathers to serve as his spears and swords. They did decide to let him go without a cloak, his wings working well enough as a replacement. The armor on his shins was also added weight, but not enough for him to complain about to the exasperated warriors. He told you himself that the only reason he wears the helmet that obscures his sharp vision, is because he admittedly likes the red crest.

But the one piece of equipment that the small army did not allow Keigo to reject, no matter how many times he whined about its size and weight, was the shield. The shield is his promise to protect not only himself, but the entire line of his fellow comrades in the heat of battle. So he held his tongue and carried the huge monster of bronze and leather, complete with a unique design of a hawk with its wings flared out like a rising phoenix.

You broke free of the maid’s grasp and rushed over to throw your arms around your beloved wanderer-turned-hero. He dropped his shield and helmet onto the soft earth (you can already hear his comrades screaming in horror) to hug you back gently, mindful of your belly that has grown so much during his time away. You took it all in—his warmth, his scent, the feeling of safety as his wings close around you—how badly you have missed his presence over the months hits you full force when he pulls back to bring you in for a kiss.

Amidst the heat and passion, you can hear the maid’s fumbled words as she excuses herself to head down to the city and welcome the others. You part from him before he steals the last of your breath, gazing into those friendly and playful golden orbs. You wondered how much deadlier those eyes looked when driving his red blades into any unfortunate opponents. His roughened, calloused fingers traced the lone feather hanging on your neck while you caressed his face.

His smooth and silky voice embraced both your ears and heart. “My beautiful bird.”

You never did come up with an affectionate little name for your foreign husband. “Keigo.”

He chuckled. “I hope you weren’t having any doubts while I was gone. No army in the world is going to keep me away from my mate for life.”

Mate. His choice of words was rather…barbarous sometimes. It took some time to adapt to your bed being the nest, or his excited talks of raising his very own flock. “You know that I can’t help but worry.”

“I know you’re strong, love, but don’t let your worry get to our chick,” he reminded you as his wings twitched. There was a serious shift in his face before he knelt down, touching your belly softly as his feathers shook.

Fear began to grip you. “Keigo? Is something wrong with the baby?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, taking another minute to listen carefully before looking up at you with a heartfelt smile. “Babies, love.”

Your eyes narrow…then widen in disbelief. “Twins?”

He nodded along with his flapping wings. “Two tiny hearts...I can feel them. These wings are never wrong.”

You didn’t know it was possible to feel even more joy, but you find yourself pulling him back up for another kiss. Two children to raise with your lover who returned from a war against a seemingly endless army. What did you do to please the gods and receive such a blessing?

“You know,” you said against his lips. “You should be on your way to the castle. The king-”

“Can wait,” he interrupted before attacking your lips with more quick pecks. “I appreciate how much this place has tolerated me. Despite how annoyed you all were the moment I arrived, no one ever forced me out, and I am truly grateful. But don’t think this ‘no good avian’ is going to become some all-noble knight just because he fought a million men to protect his home. I’m just showing my gratitude.”

You laughed into his face. “You really don’t want your reputation as a freeloading trickster to change? The royal family might have an incredible reward for you. For us.”

“Hmm, and what could they have in store for me? Free poultry for as long as I live?”

“Keigo,” you shook your head lightly, trying not to interrupt his lips.

“Too demanding? How about a discount on every purchase for as long as I live? Doesn’t that sound great?” He rubbed your stomach as his kisses trailed down to your jaw. “Don’t you want our chicks to have all the meat they deserve? So that they can grow into powerful birds of prey just like their father?”

His mouth reached your neck, and things were getting more heated than anticipated when his hot mouth closed over the flesh above your pulse. “Ah…” You gasped.

“Want to know what else I’ve been missing?” You can feel the naughty smirk curling against your throat. “I hope your stamina hasn’t lessened, little bird.”

You want to laugh at how he’s thinking about getting intimate already, but the licks against your sensitive skin are making it hard to resist. “Is your crazed lust another avian trait, or is it just you?” Your fingers tangled in his locks, urging him to keep going.

“Mmm, we’re not as anal about suppressing our urges.” A hand cups one of your tender breasts and gives it a soft squeeze. “Before you met me, did you ever expect to fuck your man so many times? Isn’t it liberating?”

The crude word spreads warmth somewhere lower. “We make love, Keigo.”

“Some nights, we do. Those louder and rougher nights, when I have you screaming through those shy hands covering your mouth? We’re fucking.”

Something was poking you down there, and that was your cue to move this indoors. “Clearly you have too much energy left from your glorious battles.” You motioned for him to pick up his gear before walking back to the house. “Now come inside.”

He grinned and licked his lips. “That’s where I always-”

“Keigo.”

#asks #hawks #i might touch this world again sometime #no promises of course

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