#I feel like he would refuse the notion entirely

[fand0mfever]

Someone commented on a wattpad fanfic of a Halloween scenario and they had Lucio as drag and I couldn't help myself.

Ignore the little notes unless it's about the male/female types of drag. Didn't really know what to do for Asra but you know... it's what I could do with my level laziness at the moment. I was watching a movie while drawing these.

I did add glitter on this one.

[dindjarindiaries]

Right Where You Left Me

summary: Din reunites with you many years after your whirlwind romance for a mission you begrudgingly accept to help him with.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x reader

tags: angst, injuries & blood, hurt/comfort

rating: T

word count: 15.387k

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

As soon as you saw the flash of silver at the open doorway, you froze. Your grip on the rag pulsated, your stare assessing the silhouette that was too achingly familiar.

And immediately, you wanted it gone. Him gone.

“Get the hell out of my bar, Mando!” Your voice was a bark, as piercing as your threatening gaze. You tossed the rag over your shoulder and crossed your arms, defiant. Though you knew his real name, had even exclaimed it in private before, you still refused to out him by using it now in front of others—despite the hurt he had caused you.

Din’s amused huff wasn’t lost on you as he ignored your directive and strided into your establishment. “Nice to see you, too.”

It was only inevitable that he would show up one day, but to do so like this was simply insulting. The Din you knew was far from an asshole, but this version of him was already threatening to challenge that notion. 

“Is that beskar on your head keeping you from hearing me?” You took up the rag again and snapped it towards the doorway. Din froze and raised his gloved hands in surrender. “Get. Out.”

“I won’t stay long.” Din nodded his helmet. “Promise.” You rolled your eyes and didn’t bother hiding it from him. This was the honorable Din Djarin that you had known, and while it used to be endearing to you, it was nothing but annoying now.

“You won’t stay at all.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I mean it.”

Din shifted his weight between his feet. You hated how it made your chest ache for him. The years hadn’t erased that tell of his. “I only need a few minutes.” His modulated voice was getting desperate. “Please.”

Of course it was working on you, but you couldn’t let it. You had spent all this time building your resolve to prepare yourself for this day, so that you could confidently turn your back on him without remorse—just like he had done to you. “You should’ve thought of that before you left.” You threw the rag at him, and he caught it without so much as flinching. “Mind wiping those tables on your way out?”

Then you did it. You turned your back on him, intent on hiding in the back room for the next standard hour or so with a glass of the galaxy’s strongest whiskey.

But the strong grasp on your wrist kept you from getting anywhere.

You spun around, your gaze a raging fire as it met Din’s cold visor. He still had the rag clutched in his free hand, and you watched his hold on it tighten in your periphery. As much as you didn’t want to admit it to yourself, the feeling of his touch still sent as many shockwaves through you now as it did years ago.

Din’s low, modulated voice broke the tense silence between you. “Please.”

Your jaw ticked as you gave him a thoughtful once-over. It was only just now that you were realizing he had an entirely new suit of armor, having exchanged the ragtag tan flight suit and mismatched red armor for brown and pure silver. Something had changed, and it was no doubt that something that had his voice so strained and desperate.

Still, you tugged your arm out of his grasp and scowled. “I never took you for the type to put your hands on someone like me without permission.”

Din’s armored shoulders deflated. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You waited for his excuse, but he didn’t give one. You raised your brow. “But?”

Din lifted the rag without looking away from you, his helmet tilting as he fumbled with the cloth between both his hands. “But what?”

You scoffed and shook your head, your gaze falling to the small amount of distance that was still between the two of you. “Fine. I’ll ask.”

Whether he was playing your own curiosity against you intentionally or not, it was a genius strategy. You couldn’t help yourself. You reached out for the rag and snatched it back from him, throwing it over your shoulder again and setting your weight on one hip.

“What brought you here?”

Din let out a soft sigh. His visor gave the room a careful stare before he leaned in closer. You nearly did the same out of habit. “I need your help with something.”

You crossed your arms and gestured with your chin to the doorway. “I’m retired. Can’t you tell?” You let out a terse laugh. “But of course the only reason why you’d show up here all these years later is for help.”

Din stiffened. The amount of pity you wanted to give him was exhausting. Old habits die hard. “I… didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

You lifted an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Well, thank you for making the decision for me.” You turned and started to walk back behind the counter. “You’ve lost my interest. Your few minutes are up.”

Din’s gloved hands all but slammed against the countertop. You jumped and looked at him with wide eyes. “Your research.” His voice was even lower, even more secretive, than before—but it had only grown even more desperate.

You blinked a few times, fighting against your shock. Your tone matched his when you finally found words to say. “What about it?”

Din relaxed once you spoke to him. “Do you still have the list?”

Your brow furrowed. “The list of what?”

“M-count targets.”

You stepped up to face him across the counter so fast that the end of it jutted into your stomach, but you didn’t care. Your face was only inches from his helmet when you spoke through gritted teeth. “You should know better than to say that out here in the open.”

Din was unfazed. “Do you still have it?”

You searched the horizontal section of his visor before letting out a heavy breath. Your gaze fell to your hands, which were splayed on the countertop right next to his. “Even if I did, I haven’t updated it in years. I have no idea if any of the targets are still active.”

Din took a steady breath, his visor looking to the side as he processed your words. Meanwhile, you were doing the same with this entire situation. His sudden interest in this was baffling, and there was only one conclusion you could think of for someone like him. It made you grimace even more harshly than you had before.

“You want exclusive access to track them down, don’t you?”

Din’s visor snapped back to your gaze. “No.” His tone got sharper, finally matching your own. “You really think so little of me?”

“Seeing as you left me for this line of work without hesitation or care, yeah, I guess I would consider it to be a pretty strong possibility.”

Din looked down at his hands. His armored body rose and fell with another deep breath before he changed the subject. “I had an M-count target.”

You scoffed. He was proving your words right, and you hated how devastating that really was for you.

“I didn’t realize it when I got assigned to the job. I was told the target was fifty years old. But…” Din paused, and when he went on, there was a new emotional strain to his words, “it was a child.”

Your brow jutted up at that. A fifty-year-old child was certainly new, but in this galaxy, it was definitely possible, especially if they were non-human.

“I saved him, took him on the run, and returned him to his own kind.” Din’s voice nearly broke on his last few words. You tried to picture it; Din Djarin, running around the galaxy in that old-ass Razor Crest, all while taking care of a child. It was a hilarious yet heartfelt image, because it was something only he would do, especially after what he went through as a child.

You hated that you knew that about him.

You pushed these thoughts aside and prioritized one of the many questions that lingered. “His own kind?”

Din’s helmet tilted at you, as if the answer should have been obvious. “The Jedi.”

You were the one to grab his wrist this time, tugging him along the edge of the countertop until he was next to you again. Then, you pushed open the swinging door to the back room, waiting until it closed to question him. “You were really running around the galaxy with a Jedi youngling?”

Din nodded. Your eyes doubled in size as you balled up your fists at your sides, now coming upon a new, frightening conclusion.

“Din, not every child with an M-count is a Jedi, especially not on that list!”

Din didn’t say anything, not for a long time. Your brow began to furrow in confusion more than anger until he gave his helmet a quick shake. “Sorry.” He shifted his weight.

You narrowed your eyes. “What was that?”

Din hesitated before he went on. “You said my name.”

You rolled your eyes and let out a curt laugh. “Get a grip.” You set your hands on your hips. “Did you even hear the rest of what I said?”

“Yes. I can multitask. You know that.” The urge to roll your eyes at him again was too strong, especially once your ears started to burn. “Don’t worry. I spoke directly with another Jedi, and she said that he was raised at ‘the Temple.’” He shrugged. “Whatever that means.”

You ran your hand over your face in disbelief. “You just casually ran into a Jedi? In this day and age, when the Jedi Order is all but nonexistent?”

“Actually, I’ve met two.”

You scoffed and closed your eyes, exhaling an annoyed breath before smiling sweetly at him. “Congratulations.” You grew more serious as you hardened your expression. “But my point still stands. If your plan is to get this list and try to return all these kids to their ‘own kind,’ then it won’t work. Most of these children were never Jedi.”

Din held his hands on his hips, just above his belt. “That’s not my plan.” Worry strained his voice as he went on. “I just want to make sure they’re all safe.”

You blinked at him. “That’s it?” Din nodded. “What about hunting? Don’t you need to work?”

Din tapped a pouch on his belt. “I’ve got enough credits to last me a while.”

You gave him a cautious once-over. “How?”

Din huffed. “That’s a long story, and I promised I wouldn’t take up too much of your time.” He nodded towards your desk in the corner of the room, where your datapad was sitting. “All I need is the list.”

You bit the inside of your check as you took a deep breath. The nobility and meaning of what he was doing meant too much for you to just hand him a list that hadn’t been checked in years. It could send him chasing inactive targets, wasting precious time that could be used to save children in need.

“You need more than that.” Your tone was decisive as you spoke, leaving no room for argument—though you were sure Din would try.

And try he did. “Is that so?”

“It is.” Your gaze flickered over to your datapad. “I told you before, I haven’t updated the list in years. If you’re really gonna be tracking down these targets, then it needs to be checked.”

Din nodded. “Okay. How long will that take you?”

You shook your head. “Time isn’t a factor. Distance is.” You walked off towards your desk and explained before Din could ask. “I have to cross-check the names at an Imperial terminal.”

Din’s voice was behind you, getting closer to where you now stood with your focus on your datapad. “Do you know where to find one?”

You threw him a look over your shoulder. “How else would I have made this list in the first place?” Din tilted his helmet, and you tried hard to fight your amused smile as you turned back to the datapad. “I’ve found a few, but I usually go to Ptelan.”

Din was right behind you, now. “Where’s that?”

“The whole other side of the Outer Rim.” You held back your sigh as you turned around to face Din, pasting on that sarcastically sweet smile again. “If your old-ass ship can actually make it that far.”

Din stiffened. Your mischievous grin started to fade even before he said the words in a low voice. “I… don’t have the Crest anymore.”

You attempted to keep the mood light as you opted for the likeliest explanation. “Did she finally die on you?”

Din sighed, but it was sadder than usual. “I guess you can say that.”

Your lips tightened at the thought of whatever you weren’t being told. You spoke as you opened your datapad to make sure you still had the list. “Let me just add that story to your ever-growing list.” Din chuckled, and you fought a relieved smile at the sound of it. “So, tell me about your new ride.” 

“I don’t have one.”

You paused, your gaze slowly peeling from the datapad’s vidscreen to Din’s visor. The implications of his words hit you all at once. “You took public transport to get here?”

Din set his hands on his belt. “That’s what I’ve been doing, and it’s what I’m gonna keep doing until my contact finds me another Razor Crest.”

You blew air sharply out of your nose. His stubbornness certainly hadn’t faded over the years. “So, let me get this straight.” You lowered the datapad and took a step closer to him. “You expect to show up here, years later, unannounced, have me hand over my most precious research, and then borrow my ship?”

Din’s helmet tilted. He was amused. “I never said anything about a ship.”

You laughed. “Well, you sure as hell aren’t getting to that Imperial base on Ptelan with public transport.” You waved the datapad in your hand. “And you don’t even know how to cross-check this with the terminal, anyway. This plan of yours is starting to look real lousy.”

“To be fair, I didn’t realize I was gonna need more than the list.”

You stared at him for a few solid seconds before you closed your eyes and lowered your head in defeat. Your grip on the datapad tightened as you came to terms with what you were about to say—and, more importantly, do. This is what you got for running as far away from your research as possible: a multi-day trip with your ex. 

Cursing under your breath, you circled your jaw and lifted your head back up to look at him. “The list is the least of our problems. I need to get the ship fueled up for us to go.”

Din’s gloved hands fell back to his sides. “Us?”

“I’ve seen your piloting.” You pulled the corners of your lips up in a smirk. “I’m not letting your recklessness destroy my ship.”

Din sounded concerned as he looked over his shoulder. “What about your bar?”

You shrugged. “I have plenty of managers who can step in while I’m gone. We shouldn’t be away for more than a few days, anyway.”

Din’s visor gave you a quick once-over before he nodded. “Okay.” He straightened his shoulders and tilted his helmet towards you in a way that, aggravatingly, made your knees weak. His voice was strained with meaning when he spoke. “Thank you.”

You avoided his visor as you returned his nod. “Let’s just make it quick.” You turned to your desk and picked up a datarod. “Take this and head to the hangar. My ship’s in bay three.”

You extended the datarod to him, and Din was gentle in reaching for it. His gloved fingers brushed yours as you made the exchange. You silently cursed yourself when the sensation sent a pleasant chill down your spine. Remember what he did to you, and don’t forget it.

You spun away from him again. “Get the ship fueled up while I pack my things. I won’t be far behind you.”

Din nodded, dutiful as ever. He set the datarod on his belt before he turned and strided out of the back room. As soon as the door swung closed, you braced your hands on your desk and closed your eyes to focus on your breathing.

All these years, you had planned on turning your back on him the moment you saw him. Now, you had just signed up for a multi-day mission with him. That meant seeing him constantly. Sharing an enclosed space with him. Reminding yourself of what you once had, both the good and the bad.

But what he wanted was too noble for you to ignore. You were willing to sacrifice your own heart for the safety of these children.

You pulled yourself together and packed your necessities. You triple-checked that you had the datapad in your satchel before you pushed your way out of the back room and tracked down today’s manager. The Twi’lek woman gave you a concerned look as you approached her.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Her green eyes gestured to the cantina’s entryway. “What was up with that Mandalorian?”

You sighed and wished that you knew as little about Din as she did. “Everything’s fine. Listen, I’m going on a quick trip. I’ll be back in a few days.” You nodded at her. “I need you and the others to keep this place running until then.” You tapped the comm on your belt. “You know how to reach me if you need me.”

The Twi’lek nodded, but her brow was still furrowed. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

You pasted on a reassuring smile and set your hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure.” You squeezed and lowered your hand back to your satchel. “I’ll see you all in a few days.”

You didn’t give yourself time to dwell on her worried expression. If you did, there was a good chance you would come to your senses and realize how bad of an idea this all was. Instead, you strided over to the entryway and walked through the door that had slid open for you.

The hangar was only a block away, and bay three was one of the first in the hangar’s circular structure. You walked in to see your faithful vessel sitting there, with Din easily maneuvering the fueling source away from the hull. Your mind was suddenly flooded with the many memories of this very same sight, but with him fueling up the Crest after yet another risky mission.

No. You didn’t want the warm, familiar fondness that was flooding through your chest. You swallowed hard and pushed it away, continuing your stride as you spoke to Din without looking at him. “Ready to go?”

Din huffed in amusement. “That was fast.” When you didn’t respond, he grew more serious. “Yeah, it’s all ready.”

“Good.” Your lips pulled tight as you dropped your satchel off in the hold. Your ship was only half the size of the Crest, considering the fact it was a singular deck as compared to two, but you still had plenty of room to work with. There was a closed refresher and more than one bunk, thank the stars, as well as a booth and a small table. This was all connected to the cockpit, which was conveniently fitted with two chairs.

As if he was always meant to be here.

You scoffed and all but threw yourself into your chair. It groaned with both familiarity and age when you turned and toggled around the controls, preparing for takeoff. Din’s bootsteps soon made their way onto the ship, and the sound was just as familiar as your chair had been. Like no time had passed at all.

Stop. You gave your head a small shake to snap yourself out of it. It’s been years, and he left you. Don’t get used to this again.

You tightened your hands around the joysticks and jerked the ship up. It was hard to fight the cruel yet amused smile tugging at your lips when you heard Din stumble somewhere behind you. He cursed before speaking up over the ship’s rumbling engines. “And you said I was a reckless pilot.”

You couldn’t hold back your curt chuckle, though you wanted to. Din took his place in the chair beside yours, but you kept your focus on the clouds you were currently soaring through. You still remembered the coordinates to Ptelan as you punched them in, even if it had been years since you last traveled there. It wasn’t long before the blue light of hyperspace was swirling all around you. It would continue to do so for nearly an entire day.

Suddenly, this ship was beginning to feel a lot smaller.

With the ship in autopilot, you rose from your chair and headed to your belongings in the hold. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted two sparkling items leaning against the wall of the interior hull, a jetpack and a long, pointed spear. The former was something Din had been wanting for a long time.

So many stories left to tell, so much time spent apart, and yet so much distance now between you. It was hard to come to terms with that after you had once known him so well, and had him so close.

“I’m gonna freshen up,” you announced, rustling through your bag and the other compartments on the ship for your necessities. “We’ve got a while to go until we get there, so I recommend resting. I’ll make something to eat when I’m done.”

You turned to head to the refresher, but Din unknowingly stood in your way. His visor was trained on your gaze as he nodded. “Can I help with anything?”

You swallowed hard and shook your head. “No.” You brushed past him, your shoulder knocking against his arm as you did so. “I’ll take care of it when I’m done.”

You’ve done enough is what you wanted to say, but that wasn’t a conversation you really wanted to have in such an enclosed space—especially with such a long trip ahead of you. Instead, you focused on washing up, hoping you could wash your thoughts of him away with the water. The refresher, unfortunately, was even more enclosed than the rest of the ship, which was only making it harder to breathe with the knowledge of who was outside it.

It would all happen again. As soon as Din had what he wanted, he would leave. Only this time, you wouldn’t give yourself the chance to be attached, and you sure as hell wouldn’t let yourself miss him. Not anymore.

Not that you had ever healed from the first time.

It was only when you finished washing up and drying yourself off that you realized the grave mistake you had made. Thanks to how Din’s mere presence had flustered you, you had completely forgotten to bring your change of clothes in with you. And there was simply no way you were going out there in nothing but a towel.

You leaned close to the door of the refresher, your eyes closing as you thunked your forehead against the cool metal. The embarrassment was already warming the tips of your ears as you raised your voice enough to be heard. “Din?”

There was a pause before you heard footsteps shuffling by the door. “Yeah?”

The gentleness in his modulated voice threatened to ruin you. With a heavy sigh, you went on. “Turns out I do need your help.” Your voice was a sardonic laugh. “Can you grab the pile of clothes by my satchel?”

“Sure.” Din’s response was immediate. You could still hear his footsteps as they made their way across the hold and then back to the door. “There. I set them on the floor.” There was an awkward pause, accompanied by a shifting of weight. “I’m… not looking.”

You let out a more genuine laugh that time and spoke before you could stop yourself. “Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve seen me like this.”

Yeah, that was definitely the wrong thing to say. It stunned both of you into silence, but maybe that was a good thing. The towel was wrapped tightly around you as you opened the door and reached down to grab the clothes, shutting the door again just as quickly. For a moment, you leaned your back against the cool metal and let the material raise the hair on your skin. It was the cold reality you needed to ground yourself again.

You made quick work of dressing to save yourself from at least part of the embarrassment. Once you were decent, you stepped out into the hold, where you saw Din swinging his spear around. He turned to face you right away, setting the blunt end of the spear against the ground. It made a faint clanging sound, reminiscent of Din’s armor.

“That’s quite a weapon you’ve got there.” You spoke to him even while you stepped forward and focused on putting your belongings away. “Did you trade that for your rifle?”

Din didn’t answer right away. You stole a look at him over your shoulder in curiosity. His gloved hand was holding the spear even tighter, and his visor had fallen to focus on his boots. “Not intentionally.”

The pain in his voice struck you hard. You were caught between wanting and not wanting to know what happened. Curiosity and genuine concern for him were fighting a courageous battle, but your resolve to keep him at an arm’s length was even stronger—at least, for now.

You found something else to say into the strained silence. “Well, at least this one fits in with your armor a lot better.”

Din chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so.”

You listened to him shuffling around behind you as you started to prepare the broth and bread. The clink of metal told you he had set the spear against the hull again, and the shifting of weight that followed said even more. With a fond smile you couldn’t shake, you spoke to him again.

“If you really want to help…” you pushed two bowls and small plates out to the side, “you can set the table by the booth.”

Din was at your side in seconds to grab them. “Thank you.”

You huffed as he walked over to the booth. “You’re thanking me for letting you help?”

“I am. It’s rare that you ever ask for help.”

You gave the broth a harsher stir than necessary. “I didn’t ask. I offered.”

Din’s amused chuckle warmed your cold heart. “Right.”

It wasn’t long before the broth was steaming at just the right temperature. You brought it over to the table, and Din made room for you to distribute the broth equally between the two bowls. After setting a small loaf of bread on each plate, you sat down, wordlessly encouraging Din to do the same.

You were prepared to watch him eat the way he always used to around you. He would lift his helmet just enough to sip the broth and tear off chunks of the bread. That was all you ever got to glimpse of his face. His untrimmed jaw, the tip of his hooked nose, his warm lips that felt like home…

Used to feel like home.

But before you could even raise the first broth-soaked chunk of bread to your lips, you saw Din lift both hands to his helmet, preparing to slide it off completely.

Out of instinct, your free hand snapped around his wrist. Din froze, his visor finding your piercing stare. “What the hell are you doing?”

Din’s tense form relaxed, a soft laugh crackling through his modulator before the hand you weren’t restricting covered yours. “Relax, sweetheart.” The familiar nickname made your heart turn over in your chest. “This isn’t the first time I’ve done this.”

His words hit you with a dizzying amount of thoughts and emotions, but the most prominent of all was hurt. He had removed his helmet for someone else, that much was clear. Had you not been worthy enough to be the first?

You didn’t say anything in response, and you couldn’t even if you wanted to. You let go of his wrist and let him follow through on the action.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him, as much as you wanted to. Dark hair accompanied the dark stubble you had once felt against your own skin, falling in soft waves over his head and coating his upper law and jaw with sweet familiarity. The rest of the hook of his nose was long and gentle, leading up to a furrowed brow. You followed those lines to meet his eyes.

Time stalled, and your breath caught. His brown eyes had already met your stare, golden flecks glinting in the flashing blue light of hyperspace that illuminated the ship’s interior. Your gaze flickered between them, imagining all the different ways these same eyes might have looked upon you all those years ago.

You wondered if they had looked at you then the way they were looking at you now.

Din’s stare fell to the helmet he had set on the booth before focusing on the steaming broth and bread in front of him. You, however, continued to look at him, to study him. It was all you had ever wanted when he was yours, even if you had refused to confess that to him.

You were startled when Din’s natural voice broke the silence. “Your broth’s gonna get cold.” His amused tone was familiar, but seeing that same emotion in his eyes made your chest unravel with sweet warmth.

Then his words sank in, and you blinked a few times before looking down at your meal. Your ears burned both in embarrassment and from the tangible feeling of his eyes on you. “Sorry for staring. It’s just…” you stopped with your bowl near your lips to let out a soft chuckle, “I never really thought I’d ever get to see your face.”

Din offered the hint of a smile. “I understand.” He took a sip from his own bowl before raising his brow. “What do you think?” When you gave him a quizzical look, he clarified. “About what you’ve seen.”

You huffed and smirked at him. “Never took you for the type to fish for compliments, Djarin.”

Din’s face started to flush, though he tried to shrug it off. “It’s just unnerving to have eyes on me after so many years of not being seen. But I’m trying to get used to it.”

You finished chewing a piece of bread before freeing the simple question from your tongue. “Why?”

Din exhaled, his lips pressing into a firm line before he chuckled. “Add that to your growing list of stories that I owe you.”

You laughed and nodded. His response filled you with an odd sort of relief. He was promising an answer, and that meant it wasn’t something he wanted to keep from you.

The rest of your meal was eaten in silence, with you stealing looks at Din whenever you thought you could afford them. He was the first to finish, clearly hungrier than he would have ever let on about. You tried to suppress the natural worry that festered in your chest for him as you watched him stand from the booth.

“I’m gonna wash up, if that’s okay.” Din gestured with his head to the refresher.

You nodded. “Of course. I left my stuff in there, so feel free to use it. I’ll just be resting if you need something.”

Din bowed his head in gratitude. He took his dishes and rinsed them out first before disappearing inside the refresher. You closed your eyes and steadied yourself with a breath, but the backs of your traitorous eyelids continued to show you the image of Din’s face anyway.

If that was all you could see whenever you closed your eyes, then you didn’t have a single chance of earning rest on this trip.

You focused on your mundane tasks and lost yourself in the routine. After washing out your own dishes, you set up the bunks, hoping to at least get some sleep during the course of this lengthy journey. A few minutes spent in your bunk, however, proved that rest would be impossible right now.

You took to pacing and flipping your blade in the air, warming yourself up for any potential fight that would come should things go south on Ptelan. They hadn’t before, but there was certainly a first time for everything. There was too much on your mind that threatened to drown you, and focusing on the shifting of your blade offered an escape.

Until the refresher door opened at the same time you paced forward, and you ran straight into Din’s firm form.

Even worse, as you clutched your blade and took a step back, you realized that he was more vulnerable to you now than before. His soft waves were wet enough to leave droplets streaming onto his forehead and face, and you followed one that fell down his jaw and over his completely exposed chest. Tanned, scarred skin was shining from the refresher’s humidity, ending only where Din had the towel he was borrowing around his waist.

And you were breathless. If you couldn’t stop staring before, you sure as hell couldn’t stop now.

“I’m sorry.” Din stammered. His face was even redder than it had been before, his gaze wandering. “I was… I needed to grab my blade so I could shave, and I thought you would be asleep.”

You managed to let out a curt chuckle. “Well, I’m awake.” It was then that his words hit you. “Wait, your vibroblade? For shaving?”

Din just shrugged.

“Absolutely not.” You spun around and headed towards one of your miscellaneous cargo crates. “I think I have one somewhere around here.”

“Have what?”

You scoffed. “A blade meant for shaving.” You found what you were looking for and checked it over to make sure it was clean. Din’s brow was furrowed now as you walked over to hand it to him. “You can keep it.”

Din looked between you and the blade. “You just happened to have one of these on hand?”

You shrugged and crossed your arms. “Someone must have left it here.”

Din didn’t respond right away. You watched as his brown gaze darkened, a change barely visible in the blue light illuminating the hold. “Who?”

“Don’t know.” You raised an eyebrow at him. “Why does it matter?”

Din’s stare cut away from you, and it was the tick in his jaw that made the realization fall upon you.

You let out a scornful laugh and shook your head. “No, you do not get to be jealous.” Din’s gaze snapped back to you. You pointed an accusatory finger towards him. “May I remind you that it was you who left me, not the other way around?”

Din’s jaw circled as he kept focusing on something behind you. “You don’t have to remind me about the worst mistake I ever made.” His brown eyes found you again, both his words and his stare knocking the breath from your lungs. “I already think about it all the time.”

Your lips stretched in a heartless smile. “And yet it still took all these years for you to show up, Djarin. You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

Din stiffened, an action that was even more visible with the muscles rippling under his skin. You swallowed hard and forced yourself to change the topic, your focus going back to the blade in his hand.

“Do you know how to use one of those?”

Din’s own stare lowered to the blade in his hand as he shrugged. “I’ll figure it out.”

You snickered. “Yeah. I guess if you could use a vibroblade to shave, you can use anything.” Din let out his own huff of amusement as you studied the small scars on his face. You kept your tone amused as you gestured to what you were seeing. “I’m willing to bet half of those are from shaving.”

Din actually laughed at that, a sound that ignited a pleasant shockwave along your spine. “Surprisingly, no, I’ve never managed to nick myself badly enough to leave a scar.”

You furrowed your brow. “So, these are all from what? Taking hits to your helmet?” It was hard to understand how something as impenetrable as beskar could still leave his face vulnerable to scarring.

Din nodded. “Only in serious cases.” His gaze had fallen to the blade in his grasp again, as if he was growing shy under your observant eye.

But you couldn’t keep it from wandering. Your stare found a long scar across the bridge of his nose, one you certainly hadn’t seen before in those rare times when he would accidentally slip his helmet up a little too far. “How did you get this one?” You couldn’t keep yourself from reaching out to brush your fingertips along it.

Din drew in a quiet breath, and out of your periphery, you could see his chest stall for a moment. His brown eyes found you again, the warm depths of his gaze pooling into yours as he responded in a soft voice. “I got caught up in an explosion on Nevarro.” Your eyes widened. “I almost didn’t make it out, but…” he chuckled, “ironically, it was a droid who saved me.”

Your hand was still raised, fingers trailing over the smooth skin along his cheekbone as you grimaced. The worried question fell from your lips before you could stop it. “You almost died?”

Din’s gaze softened at the breathlessness of your words. You hated it, this constant worry and concern for one another, but you couldn’t stop it. As much as you had tried to bring yourself to despise him over the years, it had never worked, and knowing he had almost died in your absence was frighteningly unnerving.

Din tried to lighten the mood with a small smile stretched across his lips. “It’s not like I haven’t almost died before.”

You gave your head a small shake and let yourself get lost in the movement of your hand, which was now settling more firmly upon his cheek. “But I wasn’t there this time.”

Din’s hand wrapped gently around your wrist. His words were firm yet so achingly soft and genuine. “That’s my fault, darling.” He began to run his hand down your arm, his rough fingertips skimming the exposed skin that led up to the short sleeve of your casual tunic. “Not yours.”

And there it was, your ultimate undoing, the thing that had always made Din so different from anyone else. He owned up to every mistake he ever made. Usually, he would do whatever it took to make it right, which is why it stung even more that he had never bothered to come back for you over the course of all these years.

But that harsh reminder wasn’t on your mind right now. All you could think about was the electricity crackling between the two of you, the touch of your hands igniting sparks that drew you closer to one another. He was becoming dangerously irresistible, especially with the weight of such sweet familiarity sitting between the two of you.

It was worse now that you could actually see him. The longing in his eyes, the way they darkened as he mused upon whatever desires he had for you and flickered between your own eyes and lips…

Just like that, you were running back to him, back to the familiar and the home you had once made in him. He did the same and met you in the middle, his parted lips meeting yours and sealing the gap between you.

Unfortunately, it was the most complete you had felt ever since he had left you.

Your hand slid from his cheek to the damp, brown waves that fell over his ear, and the other ran over his scarred chest towards the back of his neck. You wanted him impossibly close, as if having him there would erase the years you had to spend without him. Din reciprocated the feeling with his own gestures, one of his hands also wrapped around your neck as the other held the rib cage that protected your wildly racing heart.

Before you could stop yourself, you pulled him backwards, and he followed. Two long strides with Din’s arms supporting your weight was all it took to set your back against the cold, metal hull. Your toes had been dragging against the floor with the ease of his grasp, but he helped you steady yourself on your feet without once having to separate his lips from yours.

But that stability was lost just as quickly the moment his tongue pushed through your parted lips. He could still devour you like no one else, doing so with a reverence that purified you. All the consequences of these actions were forgotten as your hand in his hair pulled him even closer, and he relented, his hips marrying yours.

It was that, and the hand that was now lowering from your neck along the curve of your spine, that forced you to break away from him with a breathless gasp of your only conceivable thought. “Din…”

Din. The man who was making you feel a way you only had years ago. The same man who had left you alone in your bed the morning he left and never came back.

What the hell am I doing?

The thought was enough to break you out of your lustful haze. Your eyes doubled in size as you lowered both hands to Din’s bare chest and pushed him back. He stumbled but easily got his footing, his own eyes widened as he held his hands up in surrender. The two of you were heaving from both the heat of the moment and your sudden outburst.

You wanted to speak, but you were thrumming with so many emotions that it was hard to choose just one. Din blinked a few times, one hand running through his damp hair as he also tried to find his voice. “I’m… I’m sorry.” He exhaled a breath and closed his eyes, leaving his hand in his hair. “I don’t know what came over me.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, that was pretty fucking bold.” The ferocity of your words made Din’s eyes fly back open as his surprised stare met yours. “In fact, all of this is.” You waved a hand to the rest of the open hold. “This stunt of yours. Convincing me to come along with you somehow.”

Din shook his head. “That’s not—.”

“No.” You held up your hand to stop him. “It’s my turn to have the final word, since you so kindly didn’t give me a chance to the day you left.”

Din deflated at the truth of your words, but his sense of honor wouldn’t win you over this time.

“If you think that you can make things right by just showing up after all this time and apologizing, you’re wrong.” You hardened your expression. “If it’s my forgiveness you’re looking for, you’re never gonna find it.” You lowered your voice as it trembled in pure rage and true hurt. “Not even after slipping off that helmet for me.”

Din flinched, but there was no anger to be found in his expression. He simply nodded, bowing his head and drawing the blade you had given him from where he had slipped it between his body and the towel that still covered him. “Thank you for this.” Din gave the blade a small wave.

You gave him no response, instead crossing your arms as your gaze avoided him.

Din turned back towards the refresher, but he stopped himself before he walked through the door. “All I want is that list. As soon as you get it, I’ll leave, and I’ll make sure you won’t ever have to see me again if that’s what you want.” His voice wasn’t full of any bitterness. Instead, it was strained by his genuine desire to fulfill your wishes.

Din waited for your answer, but you didn’t have one to offer him. What you wanted was becoming more and more difficult to decipher, and this kiss had only made things even more complex. Din took your silence as your response and stepped inside the refresher, closing you off from him.

You lifted a hand to your face and closed your eyes, exhaling and wishing all your tumultuous thoughts and emotions would go with your breath. You were consumed with waves of anger and guilt for the things you had said and done. It was easy to hate Din at a distance, but having him back reminded you of exactly how much you had lost the first time he left.

Maybe it was really just the why you had been looking for all this time.

You numbly drifted back to your bunk, laying yourself upon it even though sleep was the last thing you were capable of doing. It was easier to hide from Din that way, to avoid the devastation he had hidden within the brown depths of his eyes that you had only just seen for the first time today. You had waited all these years to hurt him the same way he had hurt you, but now that you had taken the opportunity to do so, it didn’t feel nearly as fulfilling as you had hoped.

You were on your side facing the interior hull when you heard the refresher door open again. Din wandered to somewhere in the hold before he made his way to the bunk you had made up for him. It was built into the hull just beside yours, leaving one metal barrier between you. That wasn’t nearly enough to ease the tension that suffocated the air of your already modestly-sized ship.

You closed your eyes and flopped onto your back, letting out a sigh before you spoke loud enough for him to hear. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

Din’s response was immediate. “Don’t be. You were right, and I deserved that.”

You pressed your lips into a firm line and stared too closely at the top of your bunk. There were a dozen questions floating through your mind, but only one managed to free itself onto your tongue. “Can I just know why?”

You heard a shifting in Din’s bunk before he spoke. “What do you mean?”

You closed your eyes in a vain attempt to ward off your sudden embarrassment. “Why did you leave?”

Din was silent for a long moment. After a steady exhale, he finally said the words that your every breath hung from. “I shouldn’t have.”

You huffed. “That wasn’t the question.”

Din hummed, as if he was considering chuckling and thought better of it. “Right.” He took another brief pause. “I… was scared.” Your brow jutted up at that. Those were three words you had never heard your Mandalorian utter before. “I thought that pursuing the line of work I had been training all my life for would put you at risk. So, I did what I thought was best for you.”

“And left me without even trying to talk about it.” Your words weren’t as sharp this time, but they were still truthful. “You took my agency from me with that decision, Din.”

“I know.” Din’s voice was pained. “I’ve done more cruel things in my life than I’d like to admit, but… that was my cruelest.” He took another breath. “And I’ve regretted it every day since.”

You sighed, and oddly, the ever-present knot within your chest loosened. His words brought you a clarity and closure you hadn’t realized you needed. It wasn’t anything you had done that made him leave.

You blinked a few times and found your voice. “Thank you for telling me that.” You imagined Din nodding in response, whether he actually did or not. You took his silence as an invitation to change the topic. “Now, I believe you still owe me a few more stories.”

Din chuckled. The lighthearted nature of it filled you with relief. “Which one first?”

“Let’s go in order.” You thought back to the first mystery he had mentioned. “Tell me about your M-count target.”

It took a while for Din to say something. When he did, his voice was even lower than before. “Grogu.”

You furrowed your brow. “What?”

“That’s his name. Grogu.” You smiled at the sudden fondness in his voice. “He’s tiny, and green, and he’s got these petal-shaped ears. Really big eyes, too.”

“What species is he?”

“Don’t know. Pretty damn cute, though.”

You laughed at that.

“The first Jedi I talked to said that he was raised at ‘the Temple’ and somehow escaped after the Clone Wars ended. It was about a standard year ago that I found him on Arvala-7. He was being hunted by the Empire for his blood, just like you had talked about with your research.”

You began to put the pieces together. “So, that’s why you’re doing this.”

“I don’t want any more kids to go through what he went through.”

You beamed, rolling onto your side so that you were facing the hold. “You really care about him.”

You noticed Din shift his legs to kick them out over the edge of the bunk, putting just a small sliver of his profile into view as he looked down at his hands in his lap and nodded. “I do.” He lifted his hand to run the back of his thumb over his forehead. “It wasn’t easy giving him over to the Jedi. I… still miss him.”

The corners of your mouth turned up in a soft, sad smile as you sat up on your own bunk. You mirrored his position, glancing over at him and hoping he could sense your comforting stare. He did, and this time, you were more content to let yourself drown in the warmth of his brown gaze. “I’m sure he misses you, too.” You looked down at your hands in sudden shyness. “I know the feeling.”

Silence blanketed the hold as the two of you processed your heavy words. You cleared your throat when it became too much.

“Okay, now that that’s covered… what about all those pretty little credits in your pocket?”

Din laughed. “I don’t know if you’ll believe me when I tell you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that a challenge, Djarin?”

Din gave his head a fond shake. “No. It’s just…” he exhaled and nodded once down at his lap, “I turned Moff Gideon over to the New Republic.”

You racked your brain for a memory to match the name to. “Gideon? Isn’t he…” you trailed off, still searching.

“The Imperial who led the Purge on Mandalore.”

You looked over a Din with disbelieving eyes. “How the hell did you manage that?”

Din’s jaw tightened. “He was the same one who was after Grogu, and he had taken the kid from me. I found a way to his light cruiser and detained him.”

Your brow shot up. “By yourself?”

“Well, I had some help.”

You splayed your palms out on the bunk behind you and leaned your weight upon them. “Sounds like another story we have to add to the list.” You both chuckled, despite the small ache in your chest. Gideon had taken so much from Din and his people, and you suddenly began to wish you were there for Din when he had to face him. “What about the Crest?”

Din inhaled air through his teeth. “Yeah, that one connects to the pulse rifle story, actually.”

“Ooo, a crossover event.”

Din chuckled, but the sound wasn’t as amused as you had hoped it would be. “It was destroyed by the Empire.”

Your eyes widened at him as your heart plunged into your stomach. “Destroyed?” It was hard to imagine the home Din had made on the Razor Crest being gone, especially with such a violent fate. “How?”

“Gideon’s cruiser made a single shot. That was all it took, really. I lost everything except that spear.” Din pointed at the spear that still rested against the hull before he drew something from a pocket on his belt. “And this.”

You narrowed your eyes as you studied the spherical object in his fingers. “What is it?”

Din steadied himself before he squeezed the metal in his palm. “The shifter knob. The kid loved playing with this thing.”

You softened, smiling as you scooted yourself just a bit closer to his bunk. “I’m glad it survived, then.” You glanced down at your feet, watching as they kicked in the open air. “I’m sorry to hear about the Crest, though. I know how much that ship meant to you.”

Din shrugged. “At least no one was hurt.”

No one but you. It wasn’t hard to imagine how Din had reacted to what happened. On the outside, he put his head down and kept going, but on the inside… it was like losing another home all over again. Like Aq Vetina, the childhood that was torn away from him.

And you hadn’t been there for him.

But that had been his choice, and he had acknowledged that. He chose on your behalf, and he would have to live with that burden, not you. It still didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

Forcing all these complicated thoughts away, you focused on the story you desperately needed to hear, your gaze studying the sharp and gentle curves of his face as you prepared to say it out loud. “What about your helmet?” Your follow-up question came out quieter than you wanted it to. “Who was it for?”

Din’s stare caught yours, and the comfort you found there washed over you in a soothing wave of relief. “It was for Grogu.”

You exhaled a light, silent breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You may have chastised Din earlier for being jealous, but the truth was you were harboring that very same feeling at the thought of another lover seeing his face before you.

“It was the only way I could find Gideon after he took the kid.” Din’s focus fell to his hands, which were fumbling together on his lap. “I needed to get the coordinates from an Imperial terminal, probably like the one you use on Ptelan, and it required a facial scan.”

“Yeah.” Your voice was a mere breath. “That’s pretty standard protocol for those things.”

“I was hoping to get it done quickly enough to not be noticed, but… an Imperial commanding officer saw me. A drink and some blaster fire later, only one other person who had seen me kept breathing.”

You lifted an eyebrow. “One of the aforementioned allies?”

The corner of Din’s mouth raised slightly as he shrugged. “I guess you could call him that.” He grew more serious as he went on. “Then, when I was saying goodbye to the kid, he wanted to see my face.” Din nodded to himself. “So, I showed him. Grogu and the Jedi both saw my face, and a few others were in the room, too.”

You waited to see if he was done, and when he didn’t continue, you blew out a heavy breath. There was only one word you could come up with. “Wow.”

Din huffed. “Yeah, the feeling’s mutual.”

You gave him a once-over. “So, what’s up with the Creed now? Can you just start showing your face more regularly?”

Din shook his head. His brown eyes were lost, missing that golden sparkle you had already come to adore, as much as you tried not to. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to find my covert, or at least what’s left of it, but—.”

“What’s left of it?” Your eyes widened in shock.

Din looked up at you with a wrinkled brow. There was an invisible burden weighing his shoulders down even further, and a remnant of grief in his gaze that struck you like a blow to your gut.

You softened. “I’m assuming that’s another story?”

Din forced out a chuckle. “A quick one.” He closed his eyes and let his head fall again, his chin tucked towards his chest. “Most of the covert was wiped out after they revealed themselves to help me get away from Nevarro with the kid.”

Your chest caved in with the heavy weight of sorrow. The urge to reach out and touch him had never been so strong. “Din… I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. “It was their choice. They knew the risk, and I hadn’t even asked them for help. But…”

You know me. Those were the unspoken words that floated in the tense air between the two of you, now composed of something more familiar and wholesome than the anger that had transpired before. And it was true, you did know him, which is how you recognized the guilt that was painted all over his expression even if you had never seen it on his face before.

Din was clearly ready to move past the topic. “Anyway, it’s…  yeah. It’s complicated. All this shit with the Creed.” He snorted. “Never thought I’d be in this position.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “It has its advantages.”

Din gave you a hopeful glance. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You leaned close enough to playfully rap your fingers against his arm. “As pissed as I still am about it, that was a hell of a kiss, Djarin.”

Din’s face began to flush even as he gave you a once-over. “I had a lot of years I was trying to make up for.”

You twisted your lips at that. Ignoring the small spark of hope that burned inside your belly, you prepared to snuff out his own hopeful flame. “Din…”

“I know.” He sighed. “I’m a few years too late. I made that choice for both of us when I closed the door on what we had.”

You studied him for a long moment, your eyes still addicted to the sight of his face. Learning the tells in his expression was both easy and enjoyable, from the small tugs he gave the corners of his mouth to the furrow in his brow that had become almost permanently etched there. It was then that you thought back to the moment when you first saw him earlier, remembering how he had responded to your initial observation of him.

“I like it, by the way.”

Din’s brow knit together. You chuckled and set aside your pride as you continued.

“What I’m seeing.” You waved a hand over your own face for reference. Din began to flush even more as he smiled shyly down at his hands in his lap. “A lot, actually.”

Din beamed. “That means a lot coming from you, sweetheart.”

You tried, and failed, to ignore the burn that crept up your neck towards your ears. Your smile was impossible to repress as his words filled you with an intoxicating feeling that made you remember why it was so damn hard to cope with him leaving all those years ago. He was the heartbreak you could never quite get over, because he made you feel like you were his whole galaxy.

But one creeping thought broke you out of this trance and stole the smile from your lips. You watched your hands run over your thighs before you got the words out. “You had to go through all of this alone.”

Din tensed, a movement you saw in your periphery that broke your heart all over again. He steadied himself with a breath before responding. “I chose to be alone.” His tone told you everything his words hadn’t: I wish I chose differently.

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the tragedy of it all. “I would have stayed, you know. I would have been there with you through all of it if you let me.”

“I know.” The strain of Din’s voice drew your stare back over to him. The way his handsome features were pulled taut in guilt and regret shattered you. “But that’s my burden to bear, not yours.”

You frowned, your sympathy for him being washed away by a new, smaller wave of frustration and anger. “That’s not true, Din.” Your use of his name earned you his gaze again. “You’re not the only one who had to live with the consequences of your choice. What you’ve gone through is way more tragic, but I still had to live on my own, too.” You shook your head at him. “And I didn’t even get a say in it.”

Din blinked a few times at you before he clenched his jaw and looked away. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes as his shoulders shook with a trembling breath. “I know you don’t want to hear this, and you don’t have to accept it, but I’m gonna say it anyway.”

Din lowered his hands and folded them together, keeping his elbows against his knees as he spoke to the open air of the hold.

“I’m sorry.” His devastated yet sincere brown gaze looked in your direction, but it couldn’t quite meet yours. “I thought I was making a selfless choice, but it was actually a selfish choice. I gave in to my own fear instead of letting you help me through it. I made a decision that we should’ve made together, and what I chose ended up hurting you worse than the alternative would’ve.” He let out a self-deprecating chuckle and ran the back of his thumb over his forehead. “And I’m so fucking sorry for that.”

You had always imagined how good it would feel to hear him try to apologize for what he did without giving him the relief of forgiving him, but as it turned out, you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did. These words were nothing but sincere, and the true remorse within his gaze was impossible to ignore. Din had been mulling over what he did the same way you had ever since he left.

It wouldn’t solve every problem, and it certainly wouldn’t erase all the pain of the last few years, but you were willing to at least absolve some of the suffering he had been subjecting himself to ever since.

You maneuvered yourself close enough to him and his bunk to set a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Din’s brown eyes finally found your gaze with a look that left you breathless for a moment. Once you had gotten your words back onto your tongue, you spoke in a soft voice. “I forgive you.”

Din’s stare flickered between your eyes, his shoulders and his brow lifting as the spark of hope returned. You pressed your lips in to a firm line to stave it off.

“I can’t do more than that, but… I hope that’s at least enough for you to start forgiving yourself, too.”

Din nodded earnestly. “It is.” He lifted a hand to cover yours on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

You returned his nod. It was hard to peel your gaze away from his, but you forced yourself to do it, just as you forced yourself to pull your hand away from him. “You should get some sleep. I can imagine you’ve been losing a lot of that lately.”

Din huffed. “Yeah, that’s an understatement.” He gave you a concerned once-over. “You’ll sleep, too. Right?”

This was another promise you weren’t going to make him, but he didn’t have to know that. He didn’t have to know how hard it was to sleep alone after getting to sleep right by his side for so long. “Right.”

Din nodded once more, clearly satisfied enough with your answer to push himself back into his bunk. The movement concealed him from your view once again. You did the same, letting out a soft breath as you laid your head against the pillow and stared at the shining metal above you again. Each revelation Din had shared swirled around in your mind like a frightful, galactic storm.

There was so much you had missed, so many new wounds and scars across Din’s skin and soul that you hadn’t been there to heal. It made you frustrated, but it also made you ache. Above all, it made you want to be there with him the next time something like that happened to him, to shield him from the galaxy itself.

You just weren’t sure if your heart could take it.

You closed your eyes and willed sleep to come. With the knowledge that Din was so close by, it did, and—of course—it was the best sleep you had gotten in a long time.

You woke to the sound of light clanging in the hold. Sitting up fast enough to nearly whack your head against the top of the bunk, you spotted Din with some of your cooking supplies and relaxed. He glanced at you with wide, apologetic eyes.

“Sorry.” Din chuckled as he lifted what he was holding to show you. “I was hoping you would wake up to the smell of breakfast, not the sound of it.”

You let out a curt laugh and gave your head a fond shake. “It’s okay.” You rubbed your eyes and stepped out of the bunk. “I’m gonna freshen up and see how much time we have left.”

Din nodded as you stepped away to the refresher. It didn’t take long to reset yourself, and you were surprised to see that you only had another hour left of the trip. Thankfully, there wouldn’t be much to brief when it came to the actual mission. You would go in while Din guarded the ship, and after a few minutes, you would come back. Simple as that.

Stars willing.

You went back to the hold, where Din was just finishing with whatever he had fixed up for breakfast. “Thanks so much for doing this, Din.”

Din spared you a smile as he finished plating the meal. “It’s the least I could do to repay you for this.” When he spotted your furrowed brow, he waved a hand to the rest of the ship. “Coming all the way out here with me to get this list.”

You chuckled as you nodded to yourself. “Right.” You kept your tone playful as you accepted the dish he passed you. “It was for the kids, Djarin, not you.”

But Din just kept smiling, his admiration of you so obvious that it made your ears burn. “I know.”

You looked down, bashful, and started to eat your meal. Din did the same, and the two of you ate in peaceful, comfortable silence. It was so nice to have the tension between the two of you resolved, as if the weight of your past had finally been lifted and set you both free. You weren’t sure yet what the future would look like, especially with this mission on the forefront of your mind, but that didn’t matter. Sharing the same space with him was enough for now.

Once you had both finished, you got down to business. “We’re just under an hour away, now.”

Din’s brow shot up. “Wow.” He gestured towards the cockpit. “She’s a hell of a lot faster than the Crest ever was.”

You laughed. “Well, that’s because she’s not an ancient gunship that has to tow massive amounts of cargo and weaponry around.”

Din chuckled and raised his hand. “You got me there.”

You smiled and shook your head, forcing yourself to focus again. “It should be a quick and easy retrieval. You’ll stay on the ship and I’ll head inside to the terminal. I’ll only need a few minutes to cross-check the list.”

Din’s brow wrinkled in concern. “Are you sure you want to go alone?”

“I have to. It’s what I used to do before.” You shrugged. “Haven’t run into any problems doing this yet.”

Din released a steady breath, leaning closer to you without invading your space. “That wasn’t the question.”

You blinked at him, musing upon the same words you had thrown at him last night. You had been avoiding the truth without even realizing it. It had been years since you retired from missions like these, and that made the likelihood of something going wrong much greater. The quiet, creeping chill of fear and dread began to snake up your spine.

Din read your hesitance just as well as he read the rest of you. His hand found your shoulder just as yours had found his last night. “I’ve gone in disguise as an Imperial before, remember? When I first took off my helmet.” He nodded at you. “I’ll do it again if you want me too.”

You wanted to melt at his selflessness and the comfort his gaze was offering you, but instead, you held onto your resolve and shook your head. “I only have one Imperial uniform.” You set a hand over his. “I’ll be fine. I’m just second guessing myself.”

Din held your gaze so intensely that you couldn’t look anywhere but at him. “If anyone can pick up exactly where they left off like this, it’s you.” He offered another reassuring nod. “And I’ll be right here, ready to provide backup if I have to.”

You smiled, gently easing his hand off of you as his words sank in. “Thank you, Din.” You let out a sigh and willed your complicated emotions to go with it. “Let’s look at the schematics.”

Din accepted your topic change with grace, and he followed you up and over to the cockpit. You were able to pull up the schematics of Ptelan’s tiny, Imperial base in blue holographic light, both the hangar and the terminal marked by red dots. You talked him through the entire process, from your disembarkation to the data retrieval and exit. So long as nothing had changed too drastically over the years, it would only take a few minutes.

“I’m gonna get changed.” You gestured with your head to the refresher.

Din nodded. “I’ll clean up and help get things ready.” His gaze cut towards the dishes that still sat out in the hold.

You offered him a smile of gratitude before standing and digging through the cargo crate that contained the dusty Imperial uniform. Brushing it off and double-checking that you had all the pieces, you stepped into the refresher and exchanged your clothes for the stiff uniform. You smoothed out all the wrinkles and straightened your posture, recalling all the things that used to be like second nature to you.

A new wave of dread overwhelmed you enough to force your eyes shut. You steadied yourself with a deep breath. Think of the kids. They need you.

Then it was Din’s words that ran through your mind next. I’ll be right here.

You relaxed. You weren’t alone anymore—at least, not right now. It was more comforting than you cared to admit.

You gained enough faith to finally reemerge from the refresher. Din had already cleaned everything up and was running more drills with his spear when he caught sight of you. He stopped, his stare leaving a warm trail over your body that you tried, and failed, to ignore. You wondered if he understood the power of his gaze without a helmet to hide it.

“What do you think?” The question slipped past your lips before you could stop it. You acted casual as you put your normal clothes away and slipped your weapons into their proper places.

“Honestly?” You glanced at him over your shoulder and nodded. “I think you make everything look good.” You beamed at that. “But seeing you in one of their uniforms is… unnerving.”

You huffed. “Yeah, you and I are in agreement on that.”

The last thing you checked for were your code cylinders, which were thankfully all aligned inside your pocket. You grabbed your datapad and headed towards the cockpit, with Din following close behind.

“We’re almost there.” You sat down and fixed your attention to the comlink on your belt, removing their earpiece and fixing it into its proper place. “Let’s get you set up on the proper comm frequency, then we’ll be ready to land.”

Din nodded, obediently following all your instructions before he slipped his helmet back on and did a test run of the comms. He kept it on as the ship dropped out of hyperspace and headed towards the rainy world of Ptelan.

You had refreshed yourself on all your codes and protocols before, but they still came easy when you were prompted by their comms tower. It was too easy getting assigned to a bay inside the hangar and landing. The hardest part was taking a deep breath and preparing to disembark.

Din stood at the same time you did, his gloved hand finding your shoulder again as he gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be ready.” He nodded to affirm his words. “But you’ll be fine.”

You nodded. There had always been something about him that made you want to embrace your vulnerability, to confess every uncertain thought you had to him and let him fix it. This, however, wasn’t the time. You were more than capable of doing this before, and you would do it again.

“I’ll let you know if I need you.” You tapped your ear as you said the words. Din nodded once more, and as you stepped away to lower the hatch and set off on your small mission, you felt the warmth of his brown gaze behind his visor following you the entire way.

You didn’t want to stop feeling, not now, not ever, and certainly not after this little trip of yours was over. But there wasn’t enough time to dwell on that right now.

Your face went stone cold as you descended the ramp. The usual small group of Imperials came to greet you, a lower-ranking officer flanked by two stormtroopers. You nodded at them and stopped when they stood in your path.

“Welcome to Ptelan,” the officer greeted you. “What’s the reason for your visit?”

“A layover.” You gestured back to your ship. “I’ve spent a fortnight dealing out undercover inspections on various worlds, and Ptelan was the closest outpost for me to rest for a time.”

The officer nodded. “Understood. I don’t envy your position.”

You huffed, the dignified version of a laugh. “Nor do I yours. This planet is quite dreary.”

The officer snickered. “That’s an understatement.”

He stepped aside, letting you through. You steadied yourself with a breath as you walked forward, charting out the path a million times inside your mind. The mess hall wasn’t too far from the hangar, and given how unpopulated this particular outpost was, it was unlikely the terminal you needed was being used. Only a few minutes stood between you and the trip back home.

The trip when you would have to come to terms with Din leaving you again. 

You gave your head a small shake and willed your thoughts to dispel from your clouded mind. It would take all your focus to cross-check this list as quickly as possible, and you weren’t intent on spending an extra second you didn’t have to inside that Imperial base.

The mess hall was quiet, aside from the sounds of the few dispersed Imperial officers and stormtroopers eating their mediocre meals. You headed straight for the terminal, never once breaking your stride as you withdrew the datarod from your pocket. Each breath you took was magnified inside your own ears, the air rushing through your lungs in thunderous waves.

The work was instinctual, mechanical. Your face was scanned, and you tapped through the information to find what you were looking for. A few sly codes later, the updated list of names was running over the vidscreen, and you synced it with your datapad to correct the information you already had.

Just like always, you were done in a few minutes. You exhaled a light sigh of relief as you withdrew your datarod and stuck it back in your pocket. It would be your backup of the data in the event something happened to your datapad, which meant that you were keeping it just as safe as the device tucked in your arm as you turned around to leave.

Before you could slip out, an officer twice your size stepped in, trailed by two stormtroopers as he smirked at you. You stopped just a few feet short of running straight into him, straightening your posture even more and forcing yourself to make direct eye contact.

“Lieutenant.” The man’s voice was arrogant and low as he gestured with his gaze to the squares on your left chest. “You look to be in a hurry.”

You bowed your head for a moment. “Just eager to get some rest, sir.”

“What brings you to Ptelan?”

You repeated what you had told the first officer before. “A layover.”

The officer tilted his head. “From where?”

You told him the first planet name that came to mind. It was near the system, but lacked a strong Imperial presence from what you knew. You held your datapad closer to keep your hands from trembling.

“Ah.” The officer took a step closer to you, and you fought the urge to take a step back. “What did you need the terminal for?”

You lifted your chin higher. “I’m afraid that’s only for my commanding officer to know, Captain.” You narrowed your eyes just enough to look arrogant rather than aggressive. “Our work is delicate.”

“Do you see my rank, Lieutenant?” The captain’s lip snarled. “I am your commanding officer.”

Your jaw tightened. “If you must know, Captain, I was merely confirming the coordinates of my next few inspections.”

The captain reached out a hand to tap your datapad. “Show me.”

You swallowed hard and assessed the room all in a quick moment. He didn’t have much backup, and the few Imperials who had been in the mess hall when you entered were gone. There were only one or two more lingering, their attention drawn to the scene the captain was creating. It would be easy to take all these men down, and as long as you could still run as fast as you used to be able to, you would get to the ship no problem.

It was a split-second decision you had to make, and you did so without hesitation.

You drew your blaster and shot at the captain’s chest, needing him to be fully out of commission due to the size advantage he had on you. The two stormtroopers lunged towards you, but you ducked and turned just in time to shoot one of them down. The other began firing shots that you had to focus on dodging before you could take cover behind a nearby bench and take him down with another shot.

Only the two others in the room were left. You drew a blade from your boot and threw it at one of them, sinking it into the center of their chest as the other received a clean blaster bolt to theirs.

You only spared enough time for a few quick breaths before rising to your feet and running towards the exit. Din had been right; you weren’t so rusty after all.

The thought of him led you to lift your hand to your ear and speak. “Din, get the ship ready for takeoff. I’m—.”

You were forced to cut yourself off and come skidding to a stop when an entire team of stormtroopers stepped out in front of you. Backtracking towards the mess hall, you barely managed to escape their rain of blasterfire, the shots echoing down the corridor. You picked up one of the fallen stormtrooper’s rifles inside the mess hall and jammed the blunt end of it into the panel, sealing the door shut for now—and trapping yourself inside.

With the imminent threat taken care of, you were able to focus on Din’s panicked voice inside your ear. “What is it? Are you okay? I’m hearing a lot of commotion.”

You sighed and closed your eyes. The longer you and Din both stayed here, the more time they would have to get backup, and the harder it would be to get out. He might have been ready to come to your rescue, but you weren’t willing to take that chance.

The children whose names were written inside your datapad and datarod had to come first.

“I’ve been compromised.” You said the words calmly as you strided back over to the terminal. “I’ve locked myself inside the mess hall.”

Din’s response was immediate. “I’m on my way.”

“No.” You practically bit the word out as you activated the terminal once again and began feverishly tapping around its controls. “I’m transmitting the list to the ship’s databank right now. Once it’s done uploading, you need to get out of here.”

Even the crackling of the comm channel failed to hide Din’s disbelieving tone. “What? Why the hell would I do that?”

“We don’t have time for this, Din. If you stay and help me fight, they’ll have enough time to get backup, and who knows if we’ll ever make it out of here after that. You have the chance to go now, and I’m giving it to you.” You huffed to yourself at the cruel irony of it all. “You need to leave me here.”

“That’s not an option.”

Your head snapped over your shoulder when you heard a slicing at the door. The Imperials were beginning to carve a way inside. You tightened your jaw and worked even faster, your desperation mounting. “Those kids need you!”

“And I need you.”

His words gave you pause, as if he had the ability to make the entire galaxy freeze. You blinked at the vidscreen, your brain mulling over his words endlessly. The rawness of them, the vulnerability, struck you all at once.

“I’m not making the same mistake twice. I’m not leaving you again.” Before you could even think of an argument, Din repeated his words from before. “I’m on my way.”

You closed your eyes in selfish relief. He was finally choosing you. Above all else, for better or for worse, he wanted you, even at the risk of his own safety.

It healed the last broken fracture of your heart.

But the pressing matter at hand was quick in disrupting your emotional moment. The Imperials were almost done slicing their way through, and you were standing completely vulnerable to their next attack. You dove towards the nearest table and kicked it over, drawing your blaster and leaning your back against it for cover. After a few breaths, you rose enough to prop your blaster on top of the table, aiming it for whatever poor soul walked in first.

As soon as you saw the first flash of white, you pulled the trigger. The stormtrooper fell, but right behind him was a second one, a trooper who had uncharacteristically decent aim.

You ducked just in time to avoid most of the blow, but part of their blaster bolt still caught your arm. You gasped and clutched the wound with your gloved hand, baring your teeth as you glanced over at it. It had been enough to tear through your uniform and singe your skin, with a small circle of it hit bad enough to bleed.

Okay, so you were still a little rusty. But now you were also pissed off.

You set both hands on your blaster and rose again, firing in precise shots to take down two more troopers. They were the only two advancing on you, with the others distracted by something else—someone else, when you remembered you weren’t here alone.

Sure enough, there were sounds of panicked shouts and gargled last breaths, all without blaster fire. You stood and rushed out with your blaster raised to get a closer look, just in time to see Din run his spear through the last stormtrooper standing there. His visor snapped up at you before the trooper’s body even hit the floor.

“Are you okay?” Din’s modulated voice was a mere breath as he hurried over to you.

You didn’t address his question. “Let’s get out of here.”

Din’s visor found the wound on your arm in record time. “You’re hurt.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at him. “Barely. Come on, Mando.” You took his gloved hand and began to lead the way back to the ship. “You might love a good fight, but I’m retired.”

Din huffed at that. “I don’t love it when you’re hurt.”

You scoffed at him. “Barely!”

You tugged him along the corner hard to keep him from arguing with you further. Another team waited for the two of you there, but between you and Din, you were able to make quick work of them. You focused on aiming your blaster as Din went back in with his spear, slicing through his share until the entire team had been taken care of. With a nod, the two of you pressed on.

It was a rhythm you had been missing for a long, long time.

You turned the last corner into the hangar bay, and as it turned out, Din had already taken care of the greeting party on his way to come and assist you. You both had boarded the ship before the next wave of stormtroopers even entered the hangar, leaving their useless shots to clip the exterior hull as you pulled up on the controls and piloted the ship far away from their attack.

Inputting the coordinates back to your current homeworld, you waited to relax until the blue lights of hyperspace were flickering around you again. It was only then that you released the heavy breath you’d been holding, the adrenaline pumping through you and elevating your heartbeat inside your eardrums.

You chuckled and looked over at Din, who had assumed the same leaned-back posture as yourself. “Turns out I underestimated our abilities.” Your tone was nothing but amused as you spoke. “We didn’t have a problem getting out of there before backup arrived.”

Din snorted at that. “It’s always hard to judge how skilled these remnants will be.” He removed his helmet and set it in his lap, allowing you to openly admire his face that glowed in the aftermath of the fight. “Thankfully, Ptelan is in the middle of nowhere, and they probably didn’t want to waste resources on it.”

You hummed at that. Your order for him to leave you was starting to feel embarrassing, but everything had been charged by the past that his mere presence had dug up. The panic of something actually going wrong when it never had before only added to that.

You were about to acknowledge all this when Din spoke up first. “I’m sorry.”

You shot him a confused look. His brow was furrowed, and his gaze was downcast at his helmet. “For what?” You racked your mind for even a mere idea of what he could possibly be apologizing for. “You saved my ass back there.”

Din’s gaze found yours, and the longing there was so strong that it knocked the breath from your lungs. “I went against your wishes by not leaving.” He held a cautious breath. “I just… I couldn’t bear doing exactly what I had done all those years ago, especially after spending so much time regretting it.”

You let out a soft sigh and studied him. Din’s expression was written in guilt and remorse, both of which were so genuine that you could feel those very same emotions yourself by just looking at him. He had just proven to you that he wasn’t the same man he was when he left you, that he had learned from his mistakes and changed.

That was all you had ever wanted, and you had certainly spent enough time dwelling on the what-ifs. You wanted to know what a life with him would be like, a life where you both had made a different choice the day he left.

You stood from your chair, earning Din’s rapt attention as you peeled the helmet from his hands. Half-setting and half-tossing it onto the empty chair behind you, you took its previous place, tearing off your gloves and holding his face to bring it to yours.

There wasn’t a single ounce of regret or uncertainty in this kiss. Instead, it was a shared feeling of relief, a gesture of understanding and desperation that only brought you closer together. Using the hand that had woven into his brown waves, you tilted his head back further, deepening the kiss to prove the sentiment behind your actions.

The way Din pulled your chest against his showed his own understanding.

Still, you spelled out the words on your tongue for him to feel rather than hear, your other hand running along his jaw and gently tightening along the back of his neck. Din hummed into your mouth, the tension having melted from him completely as he melted underneath your touch.

You only pulled away when you had lost your breath, but you stayed close enough for your forehead to lean against Din’s. You opened your eyes, letting your gaze meet his up close like this for the very first time. It sent a jolt of the sweetest electricity throughout your body, proving that you were making the right choice.

“Stay.” You lifted your hand back up to his jaw and ran your thumb over his lips. “If you’re waiting for me to make the choice this time, then that’s what it is.” Your nose brushed his. “I want you to stay.”

Din closed his eyes and exhaled a breath that helped every single feature of his face relax. The small smile that began to tug at the corners of his mouth was breathtaking. “I will.” His eyes reopened to depict his severity as he nodded, minding your head against his. “And I won’t ever leave you like I did before. I promise. I swear.”

“I know.” You ran a hand over Din’s head, brushing his hair back and smiling when his eyelids fluttered in content. “You've just proven that to me.”

Din returned your smile before he kissed you again, but he kept this one brief, his sparkling gaze finding yours again. “I meant what I said the night I left.” His voice was barely a whisper, though every word he said carried its own heavy weight. “And I still do.” Your eyes were beginning to get misty from pure relief as he cradled your face. “I never stopped loving you.”

You beamed at him and whispered your own words upon his lips, the truth of them shocking you. “Neither did I.”

Even amidst all your anger towards him over the years, that love still remained, the same love that seeped into this kiss that could finally take its time. He had carved a part of himself into your heart, and that’s what had made it so difficult to watch him leave. But you knew he wouldn’t do it again. You knew he would stay by your side at all costs this time.

But above all, you knew that he would protect you from the galaxy, and he would no longer doubt his own ability to do so—just like you would protect him, too. Whatever happened next, you were doing it together.

Thank the stars you hadn’t turned your back on that opportunity.

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

din djarin tag list: @yorksgirl @zenrobbins0021 @cyaredindjarin @cw80831 @maddiedrmr @pigeonmama @violetlilly2020

[anantaru]

cw. none, reader is insecure, established relationship, gn! reader

you awkwardly brush away the dust from your clothes before reluctantly looking in the mirror, nervously shifting your weight from left leg to right leg as you inspect yourself, and perhaps on that day, you do not like what you see.

yes, it happens, you could not see a single thing, yet your legs refused to walk away from the sight of yourself.

well, maybe, you shouldn't be sad, it would only make yourself feel a lot worse, don't you think? although as you were to slowly let the negative notions grasp onto yourself like a dangerous virus eating away on its host, you notice two familiar arms wrap around your waist as you feel the comfortable warmth of diluc's chest pressed against your back.

diluc ragnvindr was always like this, without great effort, noticing whenever you aren't feeling your best.

he rests his head in the nook of your neck and breathes in, a long inhale of air gathering in his lungs before he exhales through his parted mouth, "hey, you're so beautiful, you know that?" he whispers with a gentle smile that touched the deepest parts in your heart as blood rushes to your cheeks at the compliment.

his lips shortly place a warm kiss at the curve where your neck connects to your shoulder, speaking to you without requiring words, yet doing it distinctly enough like chords do from the string, "i find myself looking at you, all the time."

with love so sudden and sweet, it takes you by storm, his gentle kisses seemingly hearing the silent, negative voice in your head as he knows how to make you calm down and comfort you in the process.

curiously, your gaze swathes from your figure to his face, admiring the handsome features belonging to your boyfriend— those lips and those eyes, reaching your soul when it feels out of sight.

he does it flawlessly, loving you of course, because diluc loves you to the depth and breadth and height, with a passion entirely put to use.

it pains him when he sees you saddened. when all he sees is a beauty of cloudless climes and starry skies— your smile that shows him what home looks like, or the addiction of your lips, the glow in your eyes.

hey, you hear? you need to focus.

because my dear, you're perfect you see, you cannot not be.

because perfection ultimately lies in the imperfection of it all, the uniqueness, the individuality and kindness.

and even when you cannot see it at all today, all of it will forever bloom like the sweetest flower on your face.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[utterlyotterlyx]

ooo i have an idea

just something fluffy where reader loves hugging azriel because he always wraps his wings around her? maybe a little comfort fic after reader and az go on a rough mission together

Your wish is my command x

You Are My Shelter

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - No one can comfort you like Azriel can, and after a mission goes wrong, you need him wrapped around you more than ever before.

Warnings - blood, injury, angst, lots of fluff and comfort, happy-ish ending

It wasn't a rare occurrence for you to accompany Azriel on the odd mission. He would never admit it, but you, his mate, was definitely his favourite partner.

You were quick and nimble, observant, and you held yourself with a feline prowess that had him awestruck each time he saw you prowling through a woodland or the bridge of rooftops clad in your matte black second skin and hugged and kissed ever single curve of your body.

Azriel may have been the Spymaster of the Night Court, the King of Shadow, but you were death incarnate, his Queen.

Though, he and your shared family saw a side to you that no enemy would ever be able to catch a glimpse of. Deep down, beneath that harsh exterior, you were the softest thing any of them had ever encountered, and as Azriel lingered back, watching you stalk along the rooftops of Windhaven, did he know that as soon as you reached the cabin that you called home, would you beg him to hold you, to wrap you up in his arms and furl his wings around your form.

It was your favourite thing in the world, your greatest comfort. Despite knowing of his largest than most wingspan and the certain benefits of it, there was nothing you loved more than to have his wings curl around you and block out all of the negativity of the world. As long as you were with Azriel, nothing bad could ever happen to you.

The situation hadn't been so different that night you had met him and your entire life had changed.

Azriel had been your target once upon a time, the one you had been sent to trail, to learn more about, and the moment you laid eyes on him, the tug you had felt in your soul for your entire life had become unbearable. The feeling didn't stop you from doing what you needed to, sauntering after him down the dark alleys where he stalked, sticking to the shadows of his shadows and going by unnoticed.

It was easy to tell how surprised he was by you the moment he had found himself pinned beneath your body, unable to move as could only watch as his shadows danced to the rich tone of your voice.

The infamous Shadowsinger had heard of you, the assassin whose reputation superseded his own, born in Autumn and the personal spy of Beron himself. Azriel should have been disgusted by you, but as your eyes connected and he saw that gentle fire spark within them, he knew that you had no other choice, no other option but to do what you did best. Kill. Azriel could sympathise with the notion.

Beron's assassin was his mate, and there was no way that he was ever going to let you fall back into the clutches of Autumn, he knew what Beron would do if he knew of the bond between you.

Fond eyes followed you, you could feel Azriel peering upward past the treeline as you hopped from beam to beam, not wavering for a single moment, even when he appeared behind you on that thatched rooftop.

"Don't throw me off of my game, Az," your voice was low and tinted with warning as it sang to him, and he had to reign his shadows in from dancing toward your melodic tone. They had a job to do too.

There was no way that you were going to refuse to stay cooped up in your cabin in Velaris whilst Azriel hunted the males who had took it upon themselves to continue to barbaric act of wing clipping.

Rain pattered against the wooden beams and thatched roofs, the gentle sound of it covering the sound of your cat-like movements as you searched every home, every clearing for a sign of those males, excited to tear them apart for even thinking that they could harm a female and get away with it.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare," he purred softly to you, his blue siphons dimly glowing in the night, the rain plastering his hair to the sides of his face.

Azriel ran his callused fingers through his locks and looked to you, "You're extra cold today, my love," he motioned to you, namely to the mask you had put on that evening, a mask that even he found intimidating, so gods help anyone else that crossed you that night.

Damn him.

Twin blades idly twirled in your gloved fingers, you had unsheathed them from your thigh holsters the moment you had landed on the thatched shelter, just in case any Illyrian male was stupid enough to attempt to meet you there. Countless moments had gone by when Azriel had watched you take down men three times your height and build, you were as quick as the speed of light, your agility was something that even he couldn't stand against, and he loved you for it.

He had finally met his match and found his equal in one fell swoop.

The tight coronet that Nesta had styled for you glistened in the moonlight, two thin slices fell over your face and they whipped against the breeze as you turned to face him, "I'm just feeling extra broody today is all."

Azriel cocked his head to the side and smirked, too entranced by you to notice his shadows slithering up his legs and coiling around his thighs, "You're due on your cycle soon."

Your eyes narrowed and you took a single step toward him, the beam creaking under your weight but you didn't falter, you didn't wobble, your balance was pristine, "That has nothing to do with it."

Silly moments like that were what made you happy, how, even in the midst of a mission, he could still find ways to tease you and make you smile. Azriel opened his arms to you, his wings unfurling from the tucked back place behind his back, inviting you in, "Do you need a cuddle?"

You could never say no to that.

The resolve within you fractured and fell, and you wasted no time in sheathing your blades, shrugging innocently, you told him, "It would be rude to deny you the comfort."

"It really would."

Azriel was too focused on you, on your bright eyes and curled lips to notice his shadows darting about in warning, and he didn't realise until it was too late.

A metallic tang tinted the air, and you inhaled sharply, stumbling backward a couple of steps before your foot slipped and you were sent tumbling off the beam. Azriel dove off after you, he didn't waste a second, he saw the pain twist in your features, but he wasn't quick enough, and you landed on the ground with a sickening thud, a soft cry flew from your lips.

Arms were around you instantly, his fingers were flittering around the arrow that was burrowed into your shoulder and the nausea hit you like a horse as all of the fire within you vanished from your body. Footsteps thundered from all around you, but you couldn't pinpoint the exact direction of their origin as your world span.

Muffled words enveloped the world where you lay, "Get out of here, Az. They're coming."

Azriel knew it, he could hear their shouting and stalking footsteps, and he cursed himself and his siphons for meddling with you whilst you were so high up, so vulnerable to their arrows. Azriel had stolen your focus.

Faebane held a putrid scent, it had always made his nose burn and crinkle, he clasped your face in his hands, noting your weary eyes that were getting heavier by the second. The arrow was protruding from your shoulder and he could smell your blood mixed with the poison, there was a lot of it, you were loosing too much too fast.

"I'm not leaving you here," he hoisted you up in his arms, cooing soft apologies as you groaned in his embrace with every turn his shadows barked at him to take, half of them scouting ahead whilst the other half wrapped themselves around your wound, applying pressure and doing their best to keep you comfortable, "Eyes on me, Angel."

The sound of his desperate plea gave you enough strength to keep your eyes open, you fought the darkness as hard as you could until you felt the hope that you'd gotten far away enough for Azriel to stretch his wings and soar into the skies.

It was usually a thing you loved, flying with Azriel, he made any excuse he could to take you flying, just so that he could hold you close to him. Not like he needed any reason at all to touch you, but he would always find one.

You had never felt so weak, or so stupid, or so helpless in that moment. Azriel held you close, pleading at you to keep you pretty eyes open, to stay awake, and you tried, you really did, but it was too hard.

Only when Azriel landed in Velaris did your consciousness jolt, purely due to the sound of his roaring voice shouting for Rhys who had appeared moments later with Madja in tow, commanding Azriel to place you onto the bare table thanks to Nesta's quick sweep that sent an array of plates and glasses crashing to the floor.

Sickly paleness clung to your skin, sweat coated your brow and you were shivering so violently that your teeth were rattling in your mouth, and your gaze shifted to Madja whilst Azriel told Rhys, Nesta, and a newly appeared Cassian what had happened with a strained voice.

"Is she going to be alright, Madja?" Rhys' voice echoed, he felt so far away, but from the stoic hand he had rested on your forehead, you knew he was much closer than you thought.

Madja was silent for a moment, her lips were tight as she pulled the arrow from your torn flesh, sympathy flashing in her eyes at the powerful cry that she had pulled from your lips, "She's lost a lot of blood," that much was clear from the red coating the tabletop, "But she'll be fine," Azriel was by your side, releasing a breath he didn't realise he was holding, pressing his lips to your hairline and stroking the matted hair away from your face.

Gauze become embedded into the wound, coated in a healing tonic that made you hiss and trash in Azriel's grip when it touched the gaping hole in your shoulder, and Madja worked as softly as she could as she wrapped thick white bandages around it. Madja left with strict instructions.

Rest. Fluids. Comfort.

Rhys hadn't even finished thanking her before he saw Azriel cradle you in his arms from the corner of his eye and whisk you to the room you two had shared before you had moved to your little cabin in the woods.

He had never been as gentle with anyone like he had been with you, you placed you onto the bed like a feather, pressing a cold cloth to your forehead to cool you down and rid your brow of sweat before he peeled his own clothes from his body and fell into the comfort beside you.

Weakly, you reached for him with trembling fingers, wincing as he pulled you into the position he knew that you needed. Head on his chest so that you could listen to his heartbeat which was racing in that moment, with your fingers tracing serene circles into the muscles of his pecs as his own hands wound around you, his wings drooping over your frame and binding you in their warmth and protection.

"I'm so sorry," he voice was wounded, strained with guilt, his fingers found the back of your neck and he worked slowly to unpin the coronet Nesta had styled for you, dropping the pins to the floor and unwinding the braids as you sighed softly at the tightness diminishing.

A hoarse hum rumbled at your lips, "It's okay, Az," you shivered again and he pulled you in tighter, being careful not to cause you any pain, and his wings curled tighter around your frame, waves of warmth seeped into you and your relaxed, "I'm here, I'm okay," your voice was a hush above a whisper, laced with exhaustion.

"I love you so much," his shadows grazed over your skin, and for a moment you believed that Azriel's hands were roaming over you, but they weren't, it was his shadows waving across every inch of you that they could, soothing you, cooing to you, "Go to sleep, Angel. I'll be here when you wake up, and we can spend all day like this tomorrow. How does that sound?"

The smile that graced your lips was peaceful, your lips parted to answer and Azriel waited, but when soft snores filled the room, all he could do was rake his fingers through your hair and swear to himself that he would never dare to put you in such danger ever again.

Author's Note

Just a little post-work drabble for you all x

[luvrodite]

call me your fool (i only wanna be with you) [686]

love's physical manifestation comes on a late night. gn!reader, very little dialogue, physical (non sexual) intimacy, feeling so lovesick you cry, established relationship.

Jason smells like lemongrass when he joins you on the bed. His hair is wet, and you squirm when he crawls between your legs to press his face into your stomach, tepid water bleeding through the thin fabric of your sleep shirt and chilly against your skin. You can feel his mouth curl up into a smile when you whine his name but he refuses to move, instead settling comfortably in the cradle of your hips like it's home.

"You need to go dry your hair," you demand, looking down from your phone but he only mumbles something unintelligible, nosing at the softness of your stomach. You can't make out the words, but his tone teeters on petulance – he's staying where he is.

The rest of him is warm and baby soft, the skin of his bare torso yielding under your touch as you skim your free hand down the back of his neck to his back. Various scars litter his back, pale with age, some still healing, waxy pink and puckered from where he'd stitched himself up. You pass your fingers over them absentmindedly, and he sighs into the side of your ribs, heat diffusing through your shirt and fading as quickly as it had come. The smell of his new soap reaches your nose, a gentle cloud that spills out into the room from the open doorway of his bathroom.

He says little tonight, drowsy in the low light and late hour. Patrol had been mostly uneventful, you gather from the easy kiss he'd pressed to your brow when he'd returned. Only the bathroom light remains on, a soft yellow whose hum would be more fitting in that of a gas station bathroom. It pools against the carpet of his bedroom floor, sinking into the woven fabric and gathering atop the strands – it's a cheap imitation of sunlight, but you could easily imagine it carrying the warmth of a mid afternoon sunspot.

Quietly, you count Jason's breaths in time with the hum of the light, setting your phone down to smooth his hair back. The curls flatten momentarily, giving under your palm before springing back. You can smell the conditioner you'd left in his shower on his hair, the notes of your hair cream mingling with it. The notion of him poking about your things, silly as it is, has your throat closing up, affection so thick it stings your eyes making your nerves burn.

I love you, you think, looking down at him despairingly. Mouth curving down into a pout, lips trembling, you crane forward to press a kiss to his temple. Strands of white hair return your affection, brushing against your cheek like a lover's hand and you take a breath.

Somehow, as if knowingly, Jason turns to kiss your palm. Emerald eyes flutter open, electric even in the low light as he peers up at you. Water pools in your own eyes, collecting in your lash line and spilling forward down your cheeks.

Salt and longing blur your vision as he pushes up to hover over you, an arm tugging you further down into the mattress until you're splayed against the sheets. Water trails down the sides of your face, and he draws close, nose brushing against yours.

He doesn't say a word. He doesn't have to, lowering his face to kiss your cheek. It's whisper soft, the press of his lips against your skin. Time slows to a crawl, stretching out to grant you this moment as they caress the tracks on your face. A kiss for each tear spent, love is returned to you in tender brushes.

You close your eyes, lashes tacky and a breathy hiccup crawling its way up your throat. Jason, yours in every sense and knowing to expect it, swallows it sweetly with a hum. His nose bumps against yours – I'm here. I'm here, and I love you.

When the tears subside and you crack open your eyes, he encompasses your entire field of vision. Your world begins and ends in teal and it smiles at you, brilliant and lovestruck.

"Let's go to bed, angel."

hi hello how are you? this is the first thing i've written in what feels like an age but i think it's fitting for the lovesickness i've been plagued with the last three weeks. everything makes me feel so incredibly soft lately and life feels so very tender. thinking of love makes me want to weep, but in a good way. i hope this makes you feel as lovesick lovestruck heartsick as i've been feeling, and i hope the world is being kind to you, wherever you are. the title is from only wanna be with you by hootie & the blowfish, which i've been listening to on repeat since sometime in january. anyway, i hope you enjoyed this.

[travellingarmy]

✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙

Lilia Vanrouge

Warning(s): NSFW. Minors do not interact. Yandere themes. Implied pseudo-incest.

Just a short drabble.

⊱⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱⊰

"Shh.."

A soft chuckle emits somewhere in the unlit room.. Not that you'd know whether or not the room was truly lit or not when your eyes have been blindfolded. He shushes you in hopes that you'll let your guard down. However..

"Khehee. My little fae, why do you seem so scared?" Though he does not outright say it, Lilia enjoys watching how much your body trembles just by hearing his voice. He knows that he was the one to teach you to fear things, but he never anticipated that one day you'd turn his lessons against him. After taking care after you for so many years and this is the result.. He could only sigh if it weren't for the fact that he quite enjoyed being a sadist. And he has to admit, he must have gone wrong somewhere so he is partially at fault.

A wide grin that only a madman such as he could perfect smeared on his face. The sound of chains dragging on the floor sounded in your ears when you shuffle your legs close to you. You bit your lips, refusing to talk to him for as long as you could.

This only spurs him to crouch down to level your eyes and carress your cheek. His hand is slender and cold but that wasn't the reason you shuddered. What made you shiver was the thought of someone who you confide all your problems with and trusted deeply, especially when it came to protecting you, showing their monster and unwanted sinful desires towards you. "Hm~ What's this? Why is my little fae refusing my touch?" He pouts when you turn your head away from his hand.

"Are you perhaps being shy?" He chuckles and shakes his head when he falls trap to his own fantasies. "What a silly little thing."

Having enough of doing all the talking, he decides that it was about time for you to sing him praises. Chains rattle again, this time not because of you but because of him. He grabs your ankles and pulled your entire body close to him.

His cold leather gloves made you gasp which only fueled him on. "Fufufu. I knew I'd like you better this way," he comments, now towering over your form. You try not to cry as he leaves wet kisses on your inner thighs. It felt disgusting and O' how you wished your body didn't betray you at this moment, biting your bottom lip to keep all the noises he so desperately wants to hear from escaping.

He chuckles at your pathetic tries of fighting against the idea of giving up and submitting to him. If he had known years ago that you were going to become like this, maybe he should've discarded the notion of teaching you all those things that he would later have to pay a heavy price of not loving you the way he wants to and greatly resenting it. "Hn..!" Oh? Your legs trembled as he gives a kiss to your clothed sex. You could not see the sadistic smile that stretches his face that shows his fangs.

It was at this moment that he decides to skip all that long foreplay and teasing you. Another time, maybe, but not right now.

He slips off your underwear, feeling a wave of excitement surge through him. Lilia admits, he hasn't always thought of you this way so something must be wrong with him.. "You've put me under your spell, little fae.." His voice sounds deeper; serious.

"So it's time for you to understand the consequences of casting a spell on me."

✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙

[newnlovesjennie]

op hcs: how they propose

luffy:

he’d do it completely spontaneously; in the middle of a dinner between you two, a stargazing session, literally anything

“hey, we’re gettin’ married, aren’t we? once i become pirate king?” he’d casually drop, making you spit out your drink

of course, there’s nothing you’d want more than to have luffy be your husband, but you’d expected a little more preparation then this

but you’d agree and promise, letting the notion of being married go since the journey to finding the one piece still has a long way to go

until your feet are engrossed in the sand of laughtale, staring at the shore ahead of you when luffy surprises you from behind, gripping your shoulders with pure amusement and pride

“this means we’re officially married, right? you get to be my wife!” he’d laugh, and a part of you doesn’t have the heart to tell him about weddings or marriage certificates and all that nonsense, because you’re intertwined with the man you call your husband right now, and that’s all that matters

sanji:

he’d been dropping hints about getting married throughout your relationship, but they were mere fantasies or jokes, in reality, he was pretty anxious about the whole ordeal

(i mean, he’s already had a wedding before, and we know how that went….)

a part of him still thinks the entire situation is too good to be true, it’s too impossible for someone as perfect as you to want to be with him, let alone forever. he’s sure you just want something casual, something temporary, and though it breaks him, he’ll tolerate it, for you

though, then he hears you comment about how big the kitchen should be in your shared future home, or if it’s okay if you can plant a garden in the backyard? you’ll smile while passing by wedding dress shops, and your fingertips will linger around sanji’s ring finger, which he always keeps vacant, a homage to his adoration for you

these little victories will give sanji the confidence he needs to actually propose, which he does, in the aftermath of the grand party the crew hosts once they reach laughtale

rose petals surround you, scented candles are lit, and sanji is down on a knee with a beautiful ring in his hand, with a look in his eyes not driven by lust, by want, but instead a look of pure warmth, fondness. it’s no surprise you say yes.

zoro:

not to be that person, but zoro feels like the kind of person to find marriage and proposals too old fashioned

he already loves you and you already love him, and he ensures that love is properly painted so the whole world can see just how much you mean to him. so what could two rings change?

he doesn’t understand why girlfriend and wife must hold different weights, when both should mean the same thing, devotion, but he sees how much it means to you, so he proposes immediately after the crew finds the one piece

“shit, was it supposed to be all fancy n’ stuff? i should’ve brought a bouquet of flowers or somethin’…”

you know your boyfriend, sorry, fiancé can be a bit rough on the edges, but his utmost loyalty for you will never change.

usopp:

similarly to sanji, dude would be freaked out of his fucking mind

he envisioned a life with you since the day you two met, he just shoved that fantasy deep into his brain as something as improbable as luffy refusing meat

call him stalkerish, but he’d sketch your future house well before you two began dating

usopp wasn’t the kind of person to engage in flings, frankly, his heart can’t handle it. the moment he got with you he prayed and hoped it would last forever, since he had already pledged his heart to you long before, and detaching it would be a painful process

thankfully, you reciprocated, to his surprise, and wanted to spend your life with him just as he did with you

[roxxie-wolf]

𝒜 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇

Pairing: Lucifer x Fem!Reader

Summary: Helping Angel from getting a beating to entering a hotel and meeting someone who you will become close with.

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: 🔞Smut, cunnilingus, fingering, Profanities. If I forgot anything else please let me know

Note: This is the end of this short series. I hope y’all enjoyed reading it. ^^

PS: First time writing smut, sorry if it sucks.

🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞MDNI🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝟩

Lucifer’s POV

Lucifer stood motionless long after you had left, his mind racing with thoughts of the contract. He went out of your room making a mental note to comeback and proceeded to his mansion.

Arriving at his house Lucifer couldn’t get you out of his head ever since he laid eyes on you. Your beauty, your grace, your very essence seemed to captivate him in a way he had never experienced before. It was as if a magnetic force drew him towards you, compelling him to watch and observe your every move.

As you walked through the lobby, he couldn’t help but admire the way your hips swayed from side to side, the way your hair cascaded down your back like a waterfall of silk. He noticed the way your eyes would light up with laughter, the graceful way you moved and the kindness that seemed to radiate from you. It was a stark contrast to the dark dealings of the underworld, and it drew him in.

When you were in the company of Angel, his jealousy flared, his possessiveness rising to the surface. He wanted you for himself, and he couldn’t bring himself to ignore the burning desire that consumed him whenever you were near.

But knowing that Valentino, the sly and cunning demon, owned your soul, Lucifer’s obsession with you only intensified. He became fixated on finding a way to break the contract, to free you from Valentino’s clutches and make you his own. Every moment spent away from you felt like an eternity, every second not in your presence a torturous existence.

He began to watch you closely, following your every move with a keen eye. He studied you like a predator stalking its prey, learning your habits, your likes and dislikes, your deepest desires. And as he delved deeper into unraveling the mystery of your being, he found himself becoming more and more entranced by the enigma that was you.

*Was he becoming obsessed, consumed by a love that bordered on madness? Perhaps. But in his mind, nothing else mattered except the pursuit of you, the one who had captured his heart and refused to let go.

It was an undeniable obsession, a fixation that consumed him entirely. Every time he caught a glimpse of you, his mind immediately raced with thoughts of how you would sound like while getting fucked. The thought of you naked and vulnerable before him would send shivers down his spine. The mere notion fueled his desire like never before. In his imagination he would envisioned how your body would move in pleasure and how your moans would fill the air.

Your presence was a constant distraction, a tantalizing temptation that he simply couldn't resist. It was as if you possessed a magnetic pull that drew him in, leaving him helpless to the vivid fantasies that played out in his mind. He found himself captivated by the thought of you, consumed by the image of your naked form and the way your body would react to his touch.

In his most private moments, when the world fell away and he was left alone with his thoughts, he would close his eyes and let his imagination run wild. He would picture you beneath him, your skin flushed with desire and your eyes glazed with pleasure. He could almost hear the sounds of your moans and gasps, feel the heat of your body pressed against his own.

His thoughts were consumed by you, by the way your lips would part in pleasure and your eyes would flutter in delight. He longed to hear the sweet symphony of your voice as you gasped and moaned, begging for more. He imagined the way your body would arch and writhe with each thrust, your soft skin flushed and glistening with sweat.

His fingers would dance over his skin, tracing the lines of his cock as he indulged in the fantasy of you. He would whisper your name like a prayer, a mantra that fueled his desire and fed the flames of his lust. In his mind's eye, he could see you writhing and panting, your body arching towards him as you begged for more. His breath would hitch as he pictured your hands gripping the sheets, your back arched in ecstasy as he brought you to the brink of pleasure.

His fantasies would ignite a fire within him, burning with the need to possess you, to hear you cry out in ecstasy. The thought of you and your perfect form consumed him, driving him to the edge of desire. He would moan your name in the darkness, his hand moving with increasing urgency as he imagined you beneath him, your body writhing in pleasure.

And then there was the thought of your pussy, tight and wet, clenching around his cock as he plunged into you. The mere idea sent a surge of desire coursing through his veins, leaving him breathless and desperate for release. He could almost feel the heat of you, the slickness of your arousal as he claimed you as his own. He longed to feel your body yield to his touch, to hear the sound of your voice calling out his name in pure bliss.

He couldn't shake the image of you from his mind, the way your body would move in rhythm with his, the way your eyes would meet his with hunger and desire. He yearned to know the taste of your skin, the sound of your gasps and moans as he brought you to the height of pleasure.

The thought of you naked and vulnerable before him would haunt his every waking moment, driving him to the brink of madness with desire. He longed to lose himself in the sweetness of your surrender, to hear your cries of ecstasy as he claimed you as his own.

And as he touched himself in the darkness, his mind filled with visions of you, he knew that he would never be able to forget the image of you, naked and unbridled in lust. He would forever be haunted by the thought of your body moving in pleasure, your voice calling out his name in ecstasy. And in that moment, he knew that he would never be satisfied until he had you, until he made his fantasies a reality.

End of Lucifer’s POV

————————————

The hotel's hushed corridors echoed with the soft farewell of "goodnight" as you and Angel retreated to the solace of your separate rooms. The day's events had left a trail of exhaustion, and the promise of rest was a welcome one. The sight of Lucifer sitting there, patient and still, brought a mix of relief and apprehension.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," you murmured, the words barely above a whisper.

"It's okay, I hope you had fun," his smile gentle in the soft light. It was a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, eyes that held a storm of thoughts you couldn't quite read.

As he stood, the distance between you closed, and you found yourself wrapped in an embrace that felt like a sanctuary. His arms around your waist, strong yet comforting, anchored you in the whirlwind of emotions that the night had stirred.

Your lips met his hungrily, and he immediately responded by returning the gesture. The kiss quickly grew more passionate, deepening the kiss his hands gripped your hips tightly. Your hands moving to the back of his neck to play with his soft hair. His tongue expertly danced with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth before finally pulling away slightly. He broke the kiss, out of breath "So, want to have some fun?"

You couldn't quite grasp his intentions, but you nodded eagerly. With a devilish grin, he swiftly lifted you in his arms and placed you gently on the bed, he began to undress you slowly, one piece at a time. “You think now is the right time, Luci,” you pondered.

“Now is the perfect time for fun with me, my sweet little star,” he purred seductively as he removed your final garment. Stepping back, he admired your naked body. “Don't worry, I won't take too long...just enough to make us both feel satisfied,” his hands slid down to caress your curves softly.

Stepping back, he started to undress himself. You gazed at his well-built body, your eyes trailing down until you noticed his already hard cock. His size appeared perfect. "My eyes are up here, doll," his voice interrupted your trance.

You couldn't resist glancing back at his cock, noticing the precum already glistening at the tip. Approaching you on the bed, he spread your legs open and gazed at your cunt. "Now, tell me what you want me to do," he murmured, stroking your inner thighs gently.

"I need you to touch me," you said in a seductive tone, your voice low. “As you wish, my little starlet,” his hands slid up your thighs, teasing your sensitive pussy before gently spreading them wide open, revealing your wet, needy core to him. Slowly, he leaned in and licked along your entrance, sending shivers down your spine as he probed your folds with his tongue. His fingers traced the folds of your sex, teasing at your clitoris before delving deeper, exploring every inch of your wetness.

He began to finger fuck you, adding another digit to stretch you open “Just imagine me sliding my throbbing cock into that tight heat...how would that feel, hm?” He kept rubbing your clit with his thumb while his fingers plunged in and out.

You let out a moan of pleasure. “You're such a filthy little thing aren't you?” He chuckled darkly while increasing the pace of his fingers inside you. Leaning in, he traced his tongue up your puffy folds, kissing and sucking on your clit. You gripped his hair, pushing him down as you ground your cunt on his face, your head falling back onto the pillow.

As you neared your climax, he quickened the pace of his fingers, rubbing your clit with his thumb. Looking down at him, you saw he was already gazing up at you. Releasing his hair, you clutched the bedsheets, letting out another moan of pleasure.

As you reached orgasm, he lapped at your juices eagerly. Removing his fingers, he licked them clean. "Sweet and addictive, just like you, little star," he smiled devilishly, leaning in to kiss you passionately making you taste yourself.

He positioned himself at your entrance and with one swift motion, thrust deep inside you. You felt him stretch you open, and he remained still, allowing you to adjust to his size. Once you signaled, he began to move.

As he started thrusting, he bent down to lock your lips in a passionate kiss. Your legs wound around his waist, and your fingers tangled in his hair. His movements became more intense and rapid, causing your mouth to fall agape as he delved deeper inside.

“F-Fuck,” you moaned, Your moans were music to his ears, resonating throughout the room and driving him wild with primal hunger. With each guttural sound you made, he picked up the pace, relishing in the feel of your breasts pressed against his chest, your nails digging into his back as you arched into him.

He skillfully rotated you on the bed, while he remained deep inside you. As his back met the bed, you took control, mounting him. You straddled him, your tight core engulfing his throbbing cock, his hands found your hips as he slowly guided you up and down on his length, sliding in and out of your wet heat, teasingly thrusting into you with increasing speed and intensity. Your movements grew faster, filling the room with echoes of pleasure.

The view alone was exquisite-your bouncing breasts, your hair cascading over your shoulders, and your eyes locked on his as pure lust consumed both of you. With each powerful thrust, his demonic strength allowed him to pound deeper inside you, filling you completely while your moans filled the room like a symphony of desire.

Feeling your tight walls clenching around him as he pounded into you only fueled his own passion further. Hearing your cries of pleasure echo through the room drove him wild with desire. His hands found their way to your breasts, squeezing and massaging them roughly as he continued to ravage your pussy, each thrust sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your bodies.

Feeling your legs tremble, you dismounted him, letting your juices drip down his cock. He swiftly turned you onto all fours, before entering from behind, ravaging your pussy with renewed vigor. He gripped your hips tightly as he began to fuck you harder and faster “Isn't this position so much fun too? Feeling my dick sliding in and out of your warm depths...are you enjoying yourself?” His voice low and husky.

He grabbed your hair and pulled back slightly, your back now flushed to his chest, he expose your neck to his bite, his other hand reaching around to rub your clit furiously. His thrusts became erratic, each one hitting your g-spot perfectly as he drove towards your climax.

“Let’s make a deal, shall we-fuck,” he growled, thrusting into you so fast that your eyes rolled back. Unable to speak, you simply nodded. “Talk to me, my little star,” he demanded.

“Ye-yes,” his incredible speed and intensity left you speechless, providing an unparalleled feeling of ecstasy. You arched your back, your ass flushed against his pelvis. Your hand instinctively reached out to push him closer, while he firmly held onto your hair and hip.

“Alright, here’s the deal, I’ll break your contract with Valentino and in turn you have to be mine for ever, how does that sound, my starlet,” he continued to pump harder and faster, his hand leaving marks on your soft skin as he held on tight.

“Uh-Huh!…yes,” you accept the deal. A deal with the king of hell himself.

He could sense your impending orgasm by the way your pussy tightened around his cock. “So close, my precious little star, come on cum all over my cock.”

He slammed into you forcefully, making your whole body tremble before your orgasm hit hard, milking his cock as you climaxed with intense pleasure. With a final deep thrust, he released himself inside you, flooding your womb with his hot seed.

The intensity of the moment lingered in the air as you both caught your breath, bodies still intertwined. He pressed a soft kiss on your neck before pulling out slowly, watching with satisfaction as his cum drips out of your well-used hole. Lucifer helped you lie back down on the bed, running his hands through your hair lovingly.

As you lay in bed, drained of energy, you gazed into his loving eyes and felt the chill of metal around your neck. Upon touching it, you discovered a chain that was glowing gold, held by Lucifer himself. As you lay there, panting and satisfied, you couldn't help but wonder about the consequences of your impulsive decision.

His words echoed in your mind, reminding you of the deal you had just struck. Becoming his forever in exchange for your freedom from Valentino. A shiver ran down your spine as you realized the gravity of your choice. But despite the uncertainty, a sense of liberation washed over you.

As you turned to look at him, his gaze met yours with a mix of satisfaction and possessiveness. With a creative flair, he proclaimed, "You’re mine now, my little star." his voice sending a chill down your spine.

In the aftermath of your passionate encounter, you found yourself drawn to him in a way you couldn't explain. There was something about his aura, his power, that both scared and thrilled you. And as the night faded into morning, you realized that this was only the beginning of your journey with the king of hell.

Some may call it fate, others may see it as a twisted fantasy. But for you, it was a new chapter waiting to be written. A chapter filled with desire, danger, and an insatiable thirst for more. And as you lay in his embrace, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

In that moment, as his arms wrapped around you protectively, you knew that whatever lay ahead, you were ready to face it together. The end of one chapter marked the beginning of another, with him by your side, forever and always.

⭐️𝒫𝓇𝑒𝓋𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈⭐️

I do try to proofread but if I missed something please let me know.

Also I sometimes tend to make minor changes to the chapters.

Thank you! For reading I hope you enjoyed it.⭐️

TAGLIST: @hazelfoureyes @tremendoushearttaco @crystal-freak24 @fallintothechasm @neptunieesworld @purplerose291 @pixleslutz @diffidentphantom @yve-barr @goreedo11 @zero-h0es4m3 @mialoveslucifer @rl800 @vififofum @cimadreamer @thedelulububble @dorck26 @cloverresin20 @ivebeenthearchersstuff

[meiieiri]

LITTLE NYMPH OF HIS HEART — GETO SUGURU

❁—SYNOPSIS: in which suguru meets his newborn daughter.

a/n: my writer’s block has me in such a horrible chokehold that this took me an hour to write. also, fuck why isn't this real UGH (⇀‸↼‶)⊃

only an hour and twelve minutes old and she’s already crushing his heart into irreparable smithereens. and she isn’t even doing anything.

she doesn’t have to, really, she could just sleep soundly, and maybe let out a tiny little coo now and then, and her father would weep a million tears to flood the entire earth and plunge it into the realm of archaic legends maybe even more mythical than that of the ancient underwater city of atlantis.

suguru sniffles, holding the little bundle closer to his bare chest when she yawns and shifts ever so slightly, favoring the warmth of her father’s skin. so this is what the doctors meant when they said that the first skin-to-skin contact with his newborn was going to be an emotional affair, he downplayed it as some gross exaggeration and even refused the roll of tissues the nurses had been offering him.

and what a huge blunder that was.

“look at her,” he brings a calloused thumb to stroke her rosy cheek, fearing that the weight of his entire hand would overwhelm the little girl. no, his little girl — your newborn daughter.

“it’s like she knows she’s a heartbreaker,” he turns to look at you, his eyes glossy with joyful tears. “just like you.”

you could only let out a quiet tearful laugh, your voice absolutely shredded and strained from the harrowing ordeal of bringing your most precious one into the world.

“or you,” you retort, leaning your head back against the many pillows that suguru had the nurses bring in. “just how many nurses did you have to wink at for these?” you joked, gesturing to the pillows, and the many comforts such as hot compresses and ice chips sitting atop your hospital bedside table.

suguru rolls his eyes, a smile playing at his lips. he turns his attention to the little girl who, seemingly having heard her parents’ voices, feels a little left out leading her to create a slight fuss in her dad’s arms, hiccuping once.

“oh,” suguru coos, consoling her by tickling the soft skin of her feet. “it’s okay, mama’s just being mean.”

despite his words though, he slowly stands up and carefully joins you on the bed, instinctively wrapping an arm around you to tuck you into his side, his heartbeat on the high line knowing that both his girls were safe in his arms, where the both of you rightfully belonged.

“but you’re gonna love her anyway. i know i do,” he reassures his daughter, stroking her little tuft of obsidian black hair, his first gift to her, as if the newborn had the intellectual capacity to understand a single word that comes out of his mouth.

you indulge him anyway, leaving him to his sweet ramblings, preferring not to say anything that could sully this moment of pure unadulterated bliss, a mere passing second in the vast expanse of the turbulent life you and suguru will have to lead as protectors of those who are vulnerable to the demonic forces that lurk in the world’s many back-alleys where even the purest sunlight could not reach. suguru’s soul had been so tormented by the abyssal darkness that slowly consumed him owed to the many cursed spirits he’s had to exorcise that he had long believed himself to be damned, forsaken by the heavens.

but now, how could he still find the nerve to hold on to that pessimistic and borderline cynical belief as he cradles the little nymph of his heart in his arms?

suddenly, a thought hits you and you sit up to stare down at your daughter who was contentedly and happily gurgling away as suguru pokes the tip of her nose.

“akari,” you whisper, testing out the feel of your daughter’s would be name on your lips — the faithful companion that will walk with her for life, a sacred gift that will outlive you and her father. suguru’s eyes widen, awe-struck at the notion of you wanting to name your daughter after the brilliant morning sun, the same one that had greeted her the minute she came into this world.

“akari,” suguru’s voice wobbles. overwhelmed by the rush of emotions, he shifts to press a loving kiss on the crown of your head before bringing akari’s little hand to his lips, softly kissing her minuscule fingers in pure adoration. “heaven’s light.”

[xoxoskai]

REMIARI (AND EVERY COULD'VE BEEN)

RemiAri's book would 100% be called Goddess of Chaos.

Unedited cuz your girl is lazy doesn't have time.

For Nyxie.

Ariella Nash first notices Remi Astor when he's bawling his eyes out.

Silver decided to swing by the Astor mansion with her girls to check on the youngest Astor after he dislocated his knee during a game.

With her mother preoccupied and her sister following the oldest King around, Ariella sits by the window, bored out of her mind.

"Baby Nash, pass me that"

Ariella slants a look at the only heir to the Astor Empire and suddenly pities her Aunt Teal a lot.

Her gaze finally catches the basketball lying near her feet that Remington is making grabby fingers (she thought he was too old to do something like that) towards.

"You're bedridden and have been advised to take intensive care. Two hairline fractures mean you shouldn't exert yourself anymore"

Of course, she doesn't say any of it to him as she picks the ball up and throws it without a care.

So, maybe she should have cared a bit. If the crunch sound was any indication.

He groans in frustration, hands slapping over the hurt and Ariella will feel guilty about it later when she finds out she slightly disfigured his nose but for now, she thinks it's not that bad until she hears him sniffle.

"Oh my God! Are you crying?"

Remington Astor hates that he's crying. In front of a 14 y/o no less.

"It's a natural reaction to getting hit in the face, kid"

He peeks through his hands and realizes she's moved a lot closer than he thought. Infact, she's standing right above him.

"Does it hurt a lot?"

"Of course it does! This is the nose of an aristocrat, and you might have broken it"

"My condolences"

The deadpan way in which she delivers her sarcasm has Remi speechless.

Eyebrows scrunched, bed hair and teary eyed, Ariella blinks at him before she leans closer.

"You're kinda pretty when you cry"

He frowns.

She smiles.

It cannot be a good sign.

And so, it begins. Ariella Nash's biggest obsession.

At first, she's just messing with him to see what kind of reactions she can get from him. A whole lot, she finds out.

Initially, Cole finds the prospect funny and helps his daughter in messing with the Astor. It's only until Silver has to spell it out for him that Ariella has a crush on him that even she hasn't recognized yet and suddenly the idea isn't as hilarious as it was.

"It'll go away" Silver tries to reassure him.

Checking the magazine in his gun, Cole shrugs "Or I can make him go away."

Remington is tired of having his friend's little sister show up everywhere and sabotaging his chances with other girls whenever he's home.

So, he stops announcing his visits home. He tries to visit his parents as discreetly as possible.

Only for Ariella to be at the dinner table, eyes twinkling, the image of complete innocence as she acts surprised.

"I was just visiting Uncle Ronan and Aunt Teal!" She tries telling him, following him up the stairs to his room after dinner.

Remi doesn't believe her. He's making plans to screw Ava over who probably rat him out for when he refused to spy on his cousin for her.

"Sure, you were"

"Either way, boy I'm glad I chose today cuz imagine I missed running into you"

She's waggling her eyebrows at him, and Remi stops in his tracks, turning to face the girl who was an entire foot shorter than him.

"Ariella. Out of respect for your parents, especially your dad who loves cleaning his guns whenever I come over, I'm going to tell you this for the last time" Pausing for effect, Remi continues when Ariella's playful smile drops "Whatever notion you have in your head about us, kill it. Find someone more appropriate for your age"

Chewing the inside of her cheek, her lips pulled into a sulky pout, Ariella asks "You don't want to hang out with me because I'm 14?"

"I knew they crossed over Ava, but you have smart genes after all" Lightly patting her head as a mockery, Remi moves to open the door to his room.

Leaving a frowning Ariella behind.

Remi doesn't see much of her after that.

Ariella never stops looking at him.

It's virtually impossible when he's so close. When their families are so close. When she sees him even if she does not want to.

Remi is relieved. Minus a follow from her on Instagram and a heart emoji on his pictures sometimes, Ariella keeps to herself. For the most part.

She would not harm any of his flings or dates. Not directly at least. And not for the lack of trying. Being underage meant she couldn't enter any of the clubs, but it didn't stop her from paying people to get stuff done.

Toying with belongings, keying their cars or spray painting them, nothing truly malicious or irreversible, just petty.

Remi figured she wouldn't directly harm him, so he made it a point to pick up all his dates in his car, hold their stuff for them and drop them home. Infact, he would've thanked Ariella for all the extra points it won him to do that.

Ariella retaliated by drawing a :p on the side mirror of his car with a sharpie after that.

But then, Remi misses her 18th birthday party.

Ariella leaves her own party to go sabotage whatever fun Remi was having.

She's undeterred at the chaos ensuing at his place, stomping around the place looking for him. When she can't find him, she goes up to the DJ, unplugs the music till Remi comes looking for the disturbance himself.

"Baby Nash, what the fuck?"

He's shirtless, his hair is disheveled and he's wearing shades indoors. He's never looked more perfect.

"I've waited four years for you, Remington Astor" Ariella tells him, the crowd silent as the words float over them to him "I refuse to wait any longer"

Cole and Ronan are both bothered. Ronan is worried for his son. Cole is worried what he might end up doing to Ronan's son.

Remi is truly thankful he's graduating. Unfortunately for him, Ariella chooses to go to university in the city.

Ariella might as well get an internship at King Enterprises for all the time she spends over there.

Remi might like his job, enjoy it even (he's great at delegating his own work) if a certain hellion didn't show up routinely just to "spend time with him".

Soon, her own workload takes over and Ariella's visits are shorter and briefer. So much so that if Remi times it well, he can skip bumping into her at all.

"She's in the States" Ava provides without him even asking "Some fancy mentorship program at NASA"

"She's a STEM student?"

"Yep. She's smarter than everyone sitting here on this table"

Landon says something in retaliation, but Remi has already tuned him out realizing he didn't really know the youngest Nash like he thought he did.

Ariella cannot believe her father signed her up for this and even though she loves the opportunity and being a scientist is her dream goal (apart from marrying Remi), she thinks she's facing withdrawals from not having seen Remi in so long.

"Oh relax" Her mentor rolls his eyes, flicking the test tube in her hand to gain her attention "Nothing is going to happen to him in six months"

"You don't know that"

"It's true. I don't" He shrugs "But what I do know is that your burner should've been turned off 30 seconds ago"

"Shoot!" Frantically taking the beaker off the stove, Ariella is running it under the water as she makes faces at her mentor.

Working with Jayden Adler is a chore Ariella reluctantly commits herself to because his brilliance was unmatched and even she was aware.

If him guessing she was lovesick ten minutes into meeting her was any indication.

"Miss me?" She asks Remi one fateful Tuesday afternoon that she flew in to surprise him when she couldn't take it anymore.

Remi shuts the door in her face.

"Oh c'mon!" She bangs at the door till he opens it "Really? You're not even going to ask me how I've been?"

Remi holds back what he really wants to say and leans against the door "Baby Nash, to ask I'd have to care"

"You do care" Remi holds his breath because for one second, he believes she read his mind "In that big heart of yours, you care about everyone"

"It would seem you don't know me as well as you thought"

"Wanna bet?"

Remi is actually terrified of losing that bet.

And so, divine intervention helps him.

When the girl he was entertaining before Ariella conveniently cockblocked them calls for him, it's like a switch flips and she immediately shuts down.

"Well then" She's taking a step back and instead of feeling relieved, he's slightly annoyed and then alarmed at his own reaction "I should go see my parents. I'll see you around"

Remi watches her go before shutting the door.

Ariella coming to see him before she went home...does things to him.

Things he does not want to delve into.

Next time he sees Ariella, she's flown in for Ava's wedding.

"Look. I love you, Ava. I really do. But you have to tell me if something's going on, okay? Dad's probably not even coming to the wedding, and this is all too rushed. If something's up, you said you'd always tell me"

"Ari, nothing's up. I love him and I'm marrying him"

"You look like it's your funeral, Ava. I don't know who you're trying to fool"

"Bitch. Did you just say the bride isn't looking radiant?"

Remi is about to announce himself after conveniently eavesdropping the entire time, but Ariella laughs and he stands arrested, listening for a moment longer before he snaps out of it.

"You look positively hideous" Remi provides and it's like a kick to the gut to see Ariella light up like the sun after a cloudy day.

"You, on the other hand-" She moves closer to him, and whispers "-look positively ravishing"

"That is positively inappropriate"

"So, you liked it then?"

Remi has to stop himself from smiling so he turns his attention to Ava, shouldering past Ariella to hug his friend.

Of course, Ava put him on groomsmen duties to walk her sister of all people down the aisle.

"Practice" Ariella mouths to him with a wink.

Remi is scared of turning his back to Cole but thankfully, Cole is more preoccupied with Ava at the moment to notice.

When he offers his arm to Ariella, she cannot stop smiling.

"Ours should be bigger" she tells him when he starts leading her down the aisle.

Remi, who knows in general that his wedding would be the biggest wedding of the century, hums along in agreement.

"I'm not sure my wife would want you to be her bridesmaid, Ari"

"Well, I'd expect not. Unless she wants a "Fiancé runs away with bridesmaid night before wedding" headline on her wedding day"

"You're awfully confident I'll run away with you"

"No" They reach the dais and she's letting his arm go so she can take her place "I'm just confident you'll be mine. Come hell or highwater"

Remi has to be pulled aside by Brandon from where he stood arrested in the middle of the dais after that.

Ariella is basically attached to him by the hip for the reception. So much so that he can smell her lemon and citrus shampoo hours later.

During a mandatory luncheon with all their parents at the Astors mansion, Ariella finds Remi shooting hoops in the backyard where his parents had a basketball court built for him.

"Five free-throws. If I win, you go on a date with me"

Remi, poised for a three-pointer almost missteps when he hears that before laughing.

"You're crazy"

"For you. But we've established that"

Remi makes the shot, misses and turns to see Ariella taking off her heels. Something about her knowing not to ruin the wooden flooring scrapes on the inside of his ribs. Remi doesn't want to find out what it is.

"C'mon" She makes grabby fingers at the ball he's holding, and he should find it ridiculous.

Standing in a blue halter dress that complimented her eyes, barefoot in his basketball court, hair flowing and an entire head shorter than him, he should've found the notion ridiculous. He doesn't.

"I'm not going on a date with you, Ariella"

"You were almost drafted into the NBA. And you're scared of losing to little ol' moi?"

The chances were looking really good for him. But he didn't put Ariella above dark forces and black magic.

"So?"

"What do I get if I win?" He's dribbling the ball around, Ariella turning in his direction as he moved about like he was the sun, and she was the earth revolving around him.

"What do you want?"

Remi opens his mouth, answer on the ready like he'd been waiting his entire life, but Ariella interrupts him "You can't make me leave you alone so asking for that is fruitless"

"There's nothing I gain from this, then" Remi gets into position to shoot a half-court shot.

"I would do anything for you"

Remi makes the shot.

"Have at it then" he tells her, trying to do anything to dissipate the charged tension they were pulled into because of her words.

How could she say things like that so casually to him?

It didn't matter. He would win and he'd ask her to comply with a restraining order or something if that's what it would take to keep her away.

And he needed her away. Desperately.

When Ariella takes position and on instinct Remi notices her perfect stance, he's scared he's made a mistake he cannot recover from.

It ends in a tie. 5-5.

"Couldn't you have made a mistake?" She's pouting as she puts on her heels.

"You could've told me you were preparing for the NBA yourself"

"I'm not on your level, yet. Jayden plays and we would go out and shoot sometimes during breaks"

"Who's Jayden?"

Ariella pauses buckling and looks up, grinning "Are you jealous? You don't have to be. He's my mentor"

"I'm not jealous. If you want to marry him, I'll even catch the bouquet at your wedding. You have my full blessings"

"He's cute but I'll pass" Remi almost dents the basketball from how hard his fingers are pressing into it "Blondes aren't my type" She rises to her full height, still only reaching his chin "Brunettes are"

"I, on the other hand, love blondes"

"I'll make an appointment at the salon before our date"

"Good God, Ariella. We're not going on a date"

"But I won."

"I won too."

"What do you want?"

Remi thinks it's crazy how fast the answer comes to him. An answer that couldn't be beaten out of him.

So, he does what he's best at. Deviation.

He hates that she pulls it off. When she enters the cafe, looking for him, Remi thinks he's an idiot that he didn't just make her go bald instead. Maybe that would stop him from finding her cute. Maybe he shouldn't have shown up. He blamed his own curiosity.

"So? Aren't I pulling it off? I nearly gave Mom a heart attack and Ava laughed for a solid hour, but you asked for it so here we are"

Remi fails to answer as Ariella puts her purse down, her bowl cut swaying a little as she sits down and faces him.

It's insanity. The little hellion stalker actually manages to pull it off.

And he thought she couldn't get cuter.

"It's perfectly disastrous" He can tell he hurt her with that as she quickly turns to call for the waiter. And because his parents raised him better than that, he's doing instant damage control "But you pull it off, yes"

Her face snaps back to him and when she notices he's being sincere, she smiles "My treat. What do you wanna eat?"

When they've placed their orders, Ariella reaches into her bag and procures a small box "I got something made for you, but I never got a chance to give it to you before"

She pushes it toward him, and Remi is almost scared to open the black velvet box.

"Relax, it's not an engagement ring"

"With you. I'd expect nothing less"

"You want to get engaged?" When Remi shoots her a glare, she smiles cheekily "I'll wait till you propose. Besides, I want the sapphire Great Aunt Charlotte wears"

"That's a family heirloom so chances of you getting that is...none"

"When I asked her for it, she said it's mine if I marry her grandson"

"So, you want to marry me for my heirlooms?"

"Yessir"

Remi tries to hold it in, he really does but he ends up laughing at her response and Ariella lights up like fireworks. He thinks she looks cute with her doe eyes twinkling.

He sobers up at the thought completely, Ariella's expression falling with his.

"Why won't you smile at me?" She asks.

And despite what his father taught him, Remi cannot let his heart break for her.

He opens the box. Inside lie two cufflinks, in the shape of a basketball but blue in color.

Remi shuts the box.

"Thanks" he says.

He doesn't take it.

He feels the walls closing in on him.

"This is stupid" He gets up suddenly, pulling his wallet out and slapping enough bills on the table to cover the cheque.

"Wait-" Ariella grabs the box that Remi left behind before following him out to his car in the parking lot.

"What happened? What did I do?" She's asking as she follows him, but Remi just walks faster, resisting the urge to run.

"Ariella. I don't want to do this with you. You're just forcing my hand. I don't see you that way" He whirls at her and she bumps into his chest.

"But why?" She recovers in record time, rubbing her nose, eyes troubled and brows drawn together.

"Because!" Remi can't say anything else because he's too busy noticing how big and blue Ariella Nash's eyes are. They aren't light-almost transparent. They are a deep, translucent blue. Like the sea being viewed from under water.

"You said you didn't want to spend time with me before because I was 14. Now, I'm not!"

"You're still a child"

"I'm almost 21!"

"And I'm 27, Ariella. There are other things more worthwhile you can do with your time instead of following a guy around. Especially one that's not interested in you. It's unbecoming"

She looks like he slapped her. With what he said, he might as well have.

Her entire demeanor shuts down. She slams the box she's still holding atop his car roof.

"I'm a Nash" She tells him "And I won't beg"

She leaves him standing in the parking lot as she gets into her car and leaves.

She also leaves him alone after that.

So much so that Remi starts getting jittery.

If there was something Ronan always taught him, it's to never treat a lady with disrespect.

Remi tries justifying it as Ariella forcing his hand. It doesn't work.

He reminds himself ten thousand times that she's too young for him.

He reminds himself that Cole nearly drowned Eli when Ava asked to marry him.

He reminds himself he can have anyone he wants.

It. Does. Not. Work.

"thisisstupidthisisstupidthisisstupidthisisstupidthisisstupid" He's muttering to himself as he waits for Ariella outside her university gates.

At first, he almost misses Ariella because she's cut her hair even shorter and into a bob that reaches her chin with forehead bangs.

But he almost misses her because she's talking to a guy who could be her professor but they're laughing together, and Remi has to cross his arms to avoid doing something crazy like throwing something at the guy.

She's wildly gesturing with her arms, her face animated and Remi feels his ribs tighten uncomfortably in his chest. Looking at her hurts.

Rejecting her hurts.

He's watching as they both throw their heads back and laugh and Remi is tapping the roof of his car, walking to and fro wondering what could be that funny.

Ariella pauses what she's saying suddenly and reaches into her bag and procures a pen that she looks like she's returning to him. The guy takes it, and Remi thinks they're done talking.

Until he flicks Ariella's nose.

"Ariella!"

Ariella turns to him, her expression blanking before she says something else to the guy and they part ways.

She makes her way toward him looking like she would rather be anywhere but near him. The change is not lost on him.

"I thought you said blondes weren't your type"

"Why are you here, Remi?"

"I'm sorry about what I said the other day"

Remi never thought himself above apologizing. He had always been an advocate for clearing every kind of misunderstanding and hurt caused.

"Cool"

Remi is left standing there as Ariella leaves. Once again.

"That's it?" He calls after her and she pauses, taking her sweet time before turning around.

And Remi notices what a lucky bastard he'd been in the past to never have been subjected to Ariella Nash's blank stare that looked straight through him.

"Was there more?"

He doesn't see her after that.

Not at parties where she'd always be lurking around. Not at their regular family luncheons. Or when he specifically went to visit his Aunt Silver.

"She was just upstairs" Silver frowns "She must've gone out"

Or she was avoiding him.

It irked Remi.

And he couldn't, for the life of him, determine why.

This was exactly what he'd wanted since Ariella had first started following him around but now that she'd stopped, he actually missed her?

He found the notion laughable.

Remi decides to celebrate by going out on a cruise with people he knew, to celebrate.

He takes a flight home in three days. She's upended his life and he cannot believe he misses his stalker.

So, he texts her. He would apologize properly so she did not leave him feeling so shitty in the aftermath.

We need to talk.

The infuriating hellion leaves him on read.

Remi shows up at her university to catch her off-guard, but she changes directions and leaves at record speed when she sees him.

So, Remi takes drastic measures. He is a firm believer of -when they go low, you go lower.

Ariella bursts into his office in record time and he is so relieved to see her that it almost- almost supersedes his annoyance.

"You said what to Professor Adler?"

"Hi" He crosses his arms on his desk "Long time no see"

"Don't fuck with me, Remi. I cannot believe you'd say that to Jayden!"

Remi finally stands up, buttoning his suit jacket and moving around his desk to reach a fuming Ariella, trying to suppress his irritation that it would take saying something to her professor now to get her to acknowledge him.

"What did I say to him?"

Ariella was gritting her teeth and Remi found he quite enjoyed this look on her. She was a fierce little thing; he would be insane to not be attracted.

"An allegation that he fraternizes with his students. Really?"

"That's such a shameful thing to do"

"It's not true!"

"How do you know?"

"Because I know him! If you threaten him ever again, Remington, I will make your life hell"

Lowering himself to her face-level, Remi smiles menacingly at her "Been there, going through it. Try me, Ariella"

Ariella wants to hurl something at his face and really make it hurt this time. She resists "You don't get to act like a jilted lover after you rejected me. Threaten him again and I'll kill you" Moving away, she turns to leave.

"I thought blondes weren't your type?" He asks, blocking her path.

And because Ariella was raised by Cole and pettiness ran in their blood, she says "Brunettes aren't doing it for me anymore"

"Is that so?"

"Remi, let me go"

Even he doesn't realize when exactly he's trapped her between him and the desk but a meteor hitting the earth couldn't make him move away.

"It takes me threatening your professor to get you to acknowledge my existence again?"

"Didn't you want me to stay away from you? If I recall correctly, you said it's 'unbecoming'"

"I didn't mean it"

"Really? I apologize, Your Lordship, this peasant failed to understand that "Following a guy around that's not interested in you is unbecoming" didn't mean "get lost"" She's rolling her eyes and Remi steps closer, if that was even possible, the fronts of their bodies flushed together.

"Did you also fail to comprehend what "You'll be mine, come hell or highwater" means?"

Ariella's breath hitches.

"It means I'm yours. And that, Ariella Nash, makes you mine."

He closes the distance between them.

xxx

It wasn't supposed to be this long! Part two (soonish) cuz ...duh.

[milliesfishes]

the aftermath of getting kidnapped, the never feeling quite entirely safe, the jumping and even sometimes screaming if you’re touched or a sound was made unexpectedly, the nightmares, the panic attacks, the refusal to be alone because that’s how you were taken

and then you tie it all together by poor billy being the one helping you through all of it and holding you when you cry when it gets to be too much 🫠

:(((( this is so sweet I'll cry 😭😭

⋆౨ৎ𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓴𝓲𝓭𝓷𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭⋆౨ৎ 𝓯𝓮𝓶 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝔁 𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓴𝓲𝓭

In the wake of your kidnapping, you were a shell of your former self, life's horrors all the more apparent after you were taken. Billy found that the road to recovery was a walk, not a horseback ride. The second he had retrieved you from the dark cavern in which you'd been held, he had known the act of getting to you would be easy in comparison to easing you afterward.

You were on edge constantly, as if your kidnappers were breathing down your neck. Every touch was met with a jump, every bout of sleep a nightmare. It broke his heart clean in half to watch you struggle so badly. His beautiful, vibrant girl reduced to a shadow. The mere notion made him want to tear those who had taken you limb from limb.

But that wouldn't do you any good. Hurting who'd hurt you would only bring you more pain. Heaven knew you had enough of that already.

Billy often walked in on you with a hand pressed to your heart, breathing shaky and uneven. He knew the signs of your panic like the back of his hand now, and it caused an instant reaction in him.

"Honey, honey," he'd breathed, cautious to touch you due to your panic. Reaching out a hand to you, he waited for you to lean into him before pulling you into his arms. Once your head was against his chest, he enveloped you, gathering you up and kissing your hair comfortingly. "Oh my sweet girl...c'mere, you're alright. I'm here...you're gonna be alright."

This occurrence was more common than he'd have liked, your tender heart overwrought with all manner of awful memories, your body on the defensive even when it was just him. You flat out refused to be left alone, paranoid that somehow you'd be taken again, that the men would creep through the window and snatch you away for the few minutes he was in the washroom, or when he'd go into the next room to make breakfast.

Still, he couldn't deny you a single thing, especially when you were in such a state. He let you take baths with him. Let you hug him around his middle as he stirred eggs in the frying pan. Took days off work to be home with you and sheath you in his arms, away from the world's cruelties.

One particularly hard night, a thunderstorm had woken you, the sky's rumbling conversation stirring you from your dreams and springing tears to your eyes. Billy awoke to the sight of you covering your ears, body trembling. The rain beating at the windowpane was a roughened soundtrack to your pain, and he wordlessly held out his arms to you.

Diving into his chest, you burrowed yourself into it, pressing your cheek to his bare skin. He had started sleeping shirtless more often recently, discovering that it was an easy way to calm you. Sliding a steady palm under your nightdress to rub lightly over your skin, he murmured soothing, affectionate things into your hair. "Shh, sweet girl. You're doin' so well. You're being so brave, my love."

"I don't feel brave right now," you murmured into his chest, and Billy pressed his lips to your forehead. He caressed your back like one would a flower's petals.

"I know. But you are, honey. Oh, my sweet baby," he breathed, smoothing his fingers through your hair. "You've come so far." He cradled you gently, rocking your body back and forth. Billy brushed away every tear that clung to your cheeks, told you he loved you, that he was here for you as many times as you needed.

Billy would move heaven and earth for you to ease your sorrows, bleach his soul snow white again for your sake. He kissed your troubles away, never hesitating to hold you as tight as he could. As he did now, covering your ear with his hand and pressing the other to his chest to dull the sounds of the storm, he knew in an instant that he would spend forever doing this and enjoy every second.

Steadily, he was able to guide you back into sleep, tucking you into him to keep things that way. The worst had passed for now.

And he would be here when the worst darkened your doorstep again, to fend it all off. Billy would smooth everything out; love marking its path.

[mondaymelon]

— 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝗲𝘆𝗲𝗱 !? ♥

:feat~ xiao, kazuha, scaramouche x gn!reader:

⤷ fluff. fluff to cure to soul.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis

Seems like someone is catching feelings... how do they hide them? (...or try to)

XIAO is impossibly perplexed... both at himself, and you.

Because when it comes down to it, he's an immortal and you're merely a human, two contrasting types of beings that should never strive to coexist... alongside one... another...

...Yet, why does he wish for that possibility, with the few remnants of hope that still remain in his soul?

It's something unnatural, these emotions that are welling up in his body, but he can't bring himself to detest it. The feelings that arise when he's with you, the quickened rate of his heartbeat and the strange heat that's risen to his face... while all of it is unnervingly unfamiliar, somehow, it's comforting.

And he can't begin to explain why... but he's felt this warmth in his being before... albeit on a lesser scale. The way his eyes seem to light up, ever so slightly when you appear before him... yes, he's seen this before.

He recognizes it.

And it's what they call 'love.'

He wants to scoff at the very notion of such an outlandish topic. One that he could never even dream of experiencing... until, of course, now.

He's certainly not the most expressive in his emotions, so at first, it's almost like the atmosphere between the two of you hasn't even changed. But soon enough, it's growing more and more clear, from the way his usually unreadable facade has morphed into one of a flustered expression whenever you get too close, how he sometimes flinches when the two of you make contact... and how sometimes, he refuses to meet your eye, staying silent.

Maybe you don't notice it in the beginning, but as time goes on, it'll only become more and more apparent. More and more obvious, until...

"I think I'm in love with you." ♥

KAZUHA has heard tales of such... emotions from the Crux's drunken sailors.

But to say that prepared him for confronting such feelings himself... that was a different topic entirely. The most he'd felt of such 'love' was when his past friend was still alive... but the affection he had experienced then was nothing compared to how passionate his adoration of you was.

Needless to say, he had found himself knee deep in such a predicament. Running through his mind all of those stories the sailors had spun... tales of a beloved...

Kazuha would be jesting if he claimed that he had never imagined himself in such rose-tinted fantasies. And now that he was in one himself, he's already far too entranced to deny it.

Ah... but working up the courage to confess is much too difficult... so for now, the wanderer will tarry with his time, writing poems of professing his adoration and daydreaming about the moment as the Crux's hull is gently lulled by the waves. Perhaps one day he'll sort himself out, perhaps one day he'll find himself speaking those three words that are spoken between lovers.

Kazuha is used to hiding, being a vagrant and a wanted criminal, however, cloaking his affection is another story. The male know's he's being painfully obvious, even when he's trying to act subtle... but he certainly can't help the way his cheeks flush whenever the two of you accidentally brush hands, or the way his mouth can't help but form a serene smile whenever you laugh. And every time those moments reoccur, time and time again, he gains just a slight more incentive.

In the moonlight, his beauty is striking, but all he can think of is you.

"...I have something important to tell you.

I'm in love with you." ♥

SCARAMOUCHE denies it. His feelings for you, and no matter how easily you're able to fluster him.

Why? To be exact, he's not even sure...

Maybe it has to do with the fact that he's closed off his heart to people long before he even met you. He who killed his emotions, so that they wouldn't hinder him. In order for his past torments to end.

"Killed..." Yet somehow, he still... felt something towards you, and unfamiliar emotion that seemed to bubble up from inside him and developed quicker by the day. An affection... obsession towards you that he couldn't stop.

...Would he want to stop it at all?

Needless to say, he's head over heels... but still persists onwards like nothing has transpired within that head of his. Sure, he feels strangely attracted towards you and everything you do, but that doesn't mean anything. Means nothing at all.

Ah, but even someone as powerful as Scaramouche can't keep such pining bottled up for who knows how long... sooner or later, a confession will arrive... and he knows full well of it.

The very thought of it has him disgusted.

Is he even able to feel such an emotion as 'love'? Perhaps he's just imagining it, a delusion forged by his own mind to satiate his sole self... after all, he doesn't even have a heart. He doesn't have anything to prove that he has a single shred of 'humanity.'

Or perhaps, he did 'have' one, and you were the one who stole it.

Haha, if that's the case, perhaps he won't mind. He'll bide his time, clench the fabric over his chest, smiling to himself as he imagines his absent heart beating alongside yours.

And maybe one day, he'll understand what his love towards you means. ♥

(a/n) once again, scaramouche is the only one who doesn't confess to it. (oops)

[babybells123]

There is something so beautifully anvilicious about these quotes;

" I am a bastard too now, just like him. Oh, it would be so sweet, to see him once again. But of course that could never be. Alayne Stone had no brothers, baseborn or otherwise." (AFFC, Alayne II)

"The dream was sweet . . . but Winterfell would never be his to show. It belonged to his brother, the King in the North. He was a Snow, not a Stark. Bastard, oathbreaker, and turncloak . . ." (ASOS, Jon V)

Both Jon and Sansa are yearning for Winterfell and the feelings/memories/family associated -but both are intrinsically restricting themselves based off of their bastard status. The notion of Sansa being the only Stark (and character) to transition from a high-born noble lady to a baseborn bastard cannot be overlooked. (And then of course, the notion of Jon being the only Stark (and character) to transition from baseborn bastard to lord commander, cannot be overlooked.) Jon has risen to the top whilst Sansa has lowered to the bottom.

She (GRRM) makes the comparison to Jon herself, meaning that GRRM makes the comparison himself. this isn't something interpreted by fans - it is right there, explicitly within the text.

Sansa's desire to reunite with Jon is "sweet," it'd be almost like a dream come true. Jon's "dream was sweet" as well. But "Winterfell could never be his" and seeing her brother once again "of course, could never be" (possible).

And then later on in the text, Jon is offered the chance to become Jon Stark, and have Winterfell in name. Thus his decidedly unsubtle desire (that he dismisses as an entirely impossible dream) is fulfilled by Stannis' offer, even though he eventually rejects it in truth "Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa."

There is also the quote that precedes Jon's "sweet dream," where he fantasises about a beautiful little romance with Ygritte; showing her a flower from the glass gardens, feasting her in the great hall, bathing in the hot pools, and loving beneath the heart tree. This dream is directly connected to Winterfell and is obviously sexually + romantically charged.

So whilst Jon's desire is partially fulfilled (even if he doesn't accept it) can we possibly assume that Sansa's simultaneously unsubtle "that could never be" may also be fulfilled? Since GRRM seems to really be beating us over the head with how 'that could never happen' from Sansa's internal monologue "no one will ever marry me for love" is reiterated multiple times (just you wait sweet one!) and Sansa desiring to reunite with her brother who she has modelled her bastardry after, who is supposedly the only brother left to her, is immediately dismissed by Sansa because she's accepted the fact that she'll never be with her family again, (and that she shall never encounter true love).

The connections only keep connecting!

So to summarise:

Jon & Sansa both have "sweet" dreams/desires that connect to Winterfell/family.

Jon's dream is sexually/romantically charged, involves a red-headed girl, and establishes Jon's suppressed desires as actually romantic.

Both Jon and Sansa are bastards in these contexts.

Both Jon and Sansa woefully dismiss these dreams/desires as impossible as "that could never be" and "it could never be his to show."

Jon's desire however is later offered on a silver platter by Stannis Baratheon, to which he mulls over and states that he "has always wanted it" (to be his). Though he later refuses Stannis' offer on the basis that "Winterfell belongs to Sansa" - twice over he says this.

Jon 'giving' Winterfell to Sansa is in direct contrast to Robb (Sansa's image of an honourably idealistic older brother) flat out rejecting Sansa's claim on the basis of her marriage to Tyrion.

Jon thus establishes himself as the only character who respects and protects Sansa's claim. Who does not abuse or exploit it. (Even though he was given the opportunity for it and it's been his innermost desire since childhood.)

In a way, this further conveys Jon as Sansa's unspoken, subconscious hero who is protecting her interests and instilling all those heroic ideals (such as the Janos Slynt situation) - though she does not realise it and has accepted that "there are no heroes" at all. But Jon is the true hero, hiding in plain sight.

So, whilst Sansa believes there are no heroes, Jon fulfils those ideals. Whilst Sansa believes no one will marry her for love, Jon exists as the embodiment of all the chivalric, romantic ideals that she's so desperately wanted.

Can we now assume that Sansa believing that she will essentially never see Jon again as entirely anvilicious as she will in fact see Jon again?

GEORGE I'M IN YOUR WALLS.

[rel124c41]

NOW PLAYING ‘I CAN’T STOP THE LONELINESS’ BY NIGHT TEMPO. jade leech

Good old Jaido is being ironic, acting happy on the worst day of his life. Why would an artist create happy music to pair it with such sad lyrics?

tags: unrequited love, angst and tragedy, hurt no comfort, complicated relationship, regrets & sorrows, friendships, bro doomed by the narrative, happy birthday to me fuckers

word count: 2,087

The first dance goes to Floyd, his brother.

This is only natural because, of course, the bride dances with the groom on their wedding day.

At his seat at the family table, Jade rolls a glass of celebratory champagne in his gloved hand. Freshly poured, it still bubbles with some last desperation. Champagne is a sipping wine but – carbonation burns the bridge of his nose with white pain as he gulps it down. Each organ in Jade stirs like kicked sediment, bubbling over. 

Floyd’s side of the table is weighed down by their father, mother, himself, and grandmother; yours is weighed down by Grim, who is trying to steal extra food off his father’s plate. The reservation hall is drowned in people though, all coming together to support your unity. 

The only one who fails to uphold this support wholeheartedly is one-drink-down-ten-more-to-go Jade Leech, the pillar of brotherhood crumbled and eroded. 

It is my own fault. Jade thinks as his mother pours him another drink. All my fault.

You and Floyd dance to ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You’. Sung by Frankie Valli, each lyric and note match up with each other perfectly. There is no juxtaposition between melody and meaning. With you cradled in his arms, Floyd looks down, softly mouthing each word to you. By doing so, he expresses that each word is genuine, engraved in his soul. 

To Floyd, he truly cannot take his eyes off of you, magnetized in. When there is a break in lyrics, he steals June coded kisses – warm like the beginning of summer. You two nuzzle cheek to cheek, amorous. 

As expected, Floyd cannot stay slow-dancing for longer than a minute. Melody starts to change. From sweet, it goes to this jumping excitement as the baritone horn and baritone saxophone intensify. You two start to pull away, independent in your motions. 

Besides the tight hold both your right hands have … refusing to let go … tying the knot.

The music goes: can’t take my eyes off of you, bum bum, whump whump, bam-d bam-d, bum bum, whump whump. You shimmy your shoulders back and forth, a smile eclipsing your face. Floyd throws you a wink, hips swaying side to side. Despite the ridiculousness … no, because of your joint ridiculousness, it amplifies that sentiment of nuptial bliss: you two were destined and designed for each other.  

Moved by music, you even hop in platform heels. Then, blindsided and unexpecting Jade watches, as the beat reaches its peak. You two shout, both of you jumping, but making certain your eyes connect when you shout the lyrics: “I love you, baby!!” The crowd goes wild with cheers, clapping along to the music. 

And if it’s quite alright, I need you baby to warm a lonely night! You and Floyd throw away coordination lessons as the song continues, already the perfect dance partner for each other. 

This entire wedding feels like one big, ironic joke being played on him. 

Jade looks up from his happy, bubbling champagne when Floyd dips you so low that your spine is parallel and supine to the ground, floating only four inches or so. Both of you laugh louder than the music and cheers. A polite smile is still glued to Jade’s face. 

He says words that only the watery ear of his champagne hears, “I should have never introduced them.” Unsaid because he is swallowing his alcohol-scented sorrow: It is all my fault.

The second dance goes to their father.

You seem to remember those coordinated dance lessons afterall. Especially graceful in his father’s imposing arms. Though, you keep your stance far away from his father’s shoes. Trembling at the mere notion of just touching the side of one. Burnished elkan leather that probably costs equivalent to your engagement ring. 

Your engagement ring – ah, what a cursed, loathed object it is in Jade's world. 

He was there when Floyd bought the ring. Do you know this? Jade thinks you probably do not. The proposal spot was all Floyd’s plan while the engagement ring was Jade’s. 

“Get her this one.” Jade had pointed towards an engagement ring with a criss-crossing design on the band and a diamond the size of a dime. “Diamonds are known for their durability.”

Diamonds would be able to sustain through a wild lifetime with Floyd. 

Washing dishes and spreading cream cheese on bagels in the blissful morning light, typing on computers and holding a phone up to your ear to talk in the middle of noon, brushing teeth and reaching under the sheets to stroke teasingly at his navel, moving further down and down, in the blanket of night light. Living a domestic life until you were dissolved into seafoam. All the remains of your love. A single diamond ring on a skeleton finger. Resilient.

Even though one should be the main player in their own life, it seems Jade is destined and designed for the background. 

When Floyd told Jade where he would propose, it kicked his ribs and stomach harder than any alcohol could. ‘I’m already down, why push me further’ is what Jade’s half-a-second wrinkling expression spoke. With the news broken, Jade smiled with hidden rage, “I’m sure she will love that.”

The place Floyd proposed? It was the place Jade introduced you to his twin. 

Isn’t it ironic? Jade knew you first but he will never know you the best. You will reveal your pink love and black secrets to Floyd yet never Jade. Jade: your first friend in Twisted Wonderland, now your brother-in-law. 

The third dance goes to their mother.

You are truly more beautiful than any diamond. You are something that gleams brighter than all the jewelry on the ocean floor or in sunken shipwrecks. When Jade and Floyd were little, they used to steal stuff from each other all the time. Noses would be broken because hey, that shell you found is prettier than mine! It only makes sense that they would find themselves attracted once again to the same, shining allurement. 

They learned to share as all children do. They broke off pieces of a sturgeon’s scales together and shared that. The diamond that is you though? Jade means a lot to you, he knows it; he knows it does not go beyond friendship. 

When you are dancing with his mother, you shine. Laughter pianos out of your mouth in a genuinely happy melody. Unlike him, you do not have to force this mirth. Acrylic nails grab your wrist and twirl you so fast you could puke. Giggles are a kinder substitute. Despite your early anxiety, all is alright now. 

Jade reflects upon that. The only moment you were frowning at that wedding.

He was speaking to Trey Clover when you appeared out of nowhere, platforms clicking. The visage of you stole his breath away; then, you stole him away from his conversation with Clover, apologizing. Jade let himself be dragged by your firm hand. As the tendrils of your hair and wedding veil bounced with your pace, Jade watched the dorsal side of his diamond gleam and raced down to a secluded hallway. 

You turn on Jade, blindly bright. Sevens, you look gorgeous. Even with that frown on your face – how can he help, he wants to soothe it away immediately – you are a sight he will never tire off. 

“Am I doing the right thing?”

For a second, Jade’s world stops. 

He thinks for a second, perhaps he could be the main character. For second, the diamond on your ring finger is not so loathsome to him. Instead of it representing infinity, it turns finite. It is a piece of jewelry you can take off. It takes only a second before you speak again:

“I mean, Floyd has been so great through all this. Super understanding, super wonderful. I mean he’s put up with all my little whims. And he was so excited about seeing the dress! I mean, the tradition of not seeing the bride before the ceremony is boring and super outdated –”

Ah, he is back in the secondary character position. You were only talking about the tradition you brought over from your world. It had a little bit of your culture that you wanted to keep with you – not seeing Floyd until you walked down the aisle. 

Jade is incredibly stupid to think you were talking about the wedding. You do not seem the type to call off a wedding. He smiles and asks, “That eager?”

“Well, I,” you fluster and look away. ‘No. I’m not, but it was the only thing Floyd and I really fought on. I’m starting to realize that it is a bit silly.”

“Keeping tradition is often how we show love for the generations before us.”

You weigh Jade’s words carefully on the scale of your consciousness. He wonders if he spoke his heart if you would take that into consideration or ignore it. After a pregnant silence, you say, “But I don’t really have a family history anymore.”

Jade blinks, surprised, as you continue, “Today, Floyd is going to become my family. Or, well, I’m going to become part of his. I have nothing of myself to offer in terms of tradition anymore.”

“You will just choose to assimilate to the circumstances?”

“Wouldn’t anyone do so for love?”

Those words fall like an anvil on Jade’s heart. “Yes. I fear they might.”

“Fear is such a drastic word!”

Jade laughs as you say, “Ah but I suppose it is true. I’m actually terrified right now.” Your hands fall down to play with the hem of your gown. You run your thumb over the outfit you will only wear once. Such a monumental, life-changing piece of fabric. 

The diamond catches a flicker of light, reflective. Jade asks, “Are you having regrets?” He waits with bated breath. 

“About Floyd? No. Never.” Your expression only solidifies the truth of your words. 

“Then my advice?” You look on with eager eyes. Jade smiles through the pain. “I say you should keep with the tradition. Weddings are a merge of the very notion. When you become a Leech, you still have your identity to care for.” That is not the real reason though. Because, this. This Jade gets to steal: the first sight of you in your wedding dress.

“Thanks, Jade. You’re the best friend – the best brother that a bride could ask for.”

Hand over his heart, concealing everything, “It is my pleasure.”

The final and fourth dance goes to Jade.

Carried by a crowd that rushes, you two dance a mad dance, hands welded together. In your gown, you move like Jade imagines all those sneaky princesses that defied and tricked the Seven must have – well, six princesses. Like an oscillating dream, you lean back, arms out. Laughing, you swing right back into Jade, chest to chest and arms out to the side instead.

When your hearts connect in the dance, Jade thinks he could be foolish enough to steal a kiss. Just one to be a solution to all his troublesome pining. A shade of Venus pink, shining and alluring him into a dumb mistake. 

I had you first but I will not have you last. Or in any ways that matter to your heart. 

The song that plays is a melody that demands dancing. It is a force that moves your hips to sway side to side. Puppets you jump around, platforms banging along with the lyrics. And what tragic lyrics they are. The smile on your face would make him think he was listening to a love song. 

Fluent in quite a few languages, Jade knows better. Though, Jade is unsure why the song is structured like this. Why would an artist create happy music to pair it with such sad lyrics? It is such a cruel juxtaposition. Jade smiles when you twirl yourself so your dorsal side lies against his front, snug in his arms as he dances with you. Those Venus-hued lips pull up in a diamond grin.

Why would an artist create happy music to pair it with such sad lyrics? There is only one answer. Irony. 

Jade laughs and helps you back to your feet when your platforms catch on the bottom of your wedding gown. You thank him so genuinely. Jade never wants this particular melody to end.

Then, it does.

“Can I steal my Shrimpy back,” Floyd jokes, when the song ends. You happily launch yourself into his arms, ready to dance until your feet are sore. Stolen successfully. 

[kissyghosty]

Requesting on my knees a Jealous Ghost fic where he and reader have a situationship but he refuses to go pass the fwb stage. In swoops in Konig (in all his 6’10 glory) where he is just being all sweet and soft to reader - major difference from our gruff Ghost. The gentleness of Konig surprises reader and starts making her shy around him which ofc goes noticed by Ghost.

Ghost then goes feral and pulls reader back in - cos I just know this man is highkey possessive 😳🙏😫 you may decide if Konig is in to reader or not

me: haha this will be like 500 words

also me: [foolish, as this nearly hit 1.5k]

here is the ao3 link for this!

“You’re mine, you know that?” Ghost grows in your ear in the middle of the roughhousing. Even through the fog currently blurring your thoughts, you can hear the possessiveness in his gravelly voice. He’s plastered to your back, grinding down onto your ass in just a tease of what could--and likely would--happen.

Throughout the entire duration of your coupling, you do your best to show that you are his and only his. He grabs you roughly, moving you around like you weigh nothing at all, even for your stature. To him, you probably don’t, you think in the aftermath, the both of you struggling to even your breathing as you tuck into each other.

You’d be content to stay like that. Just the two of you sharing each others’ touch and warmth. You would even dare say you wanted it, just to anyone but the man himself.

“Just tonight?” You beg as he finally peels himself away from you. With how disconnected he feels so soon, it’s as if he hadn’t crawled to you in damn near desperation mere hours ago. “Please?”

Through the mask plastered to his face, you can still see his eyes darken. He doesn’t say anything audibly, but the notion isn’t left unnoticed. You’ve heard all the excuses from him before: ‘We can’t be caught together.’ ‘I don’t want to be a weakness to you.’ The countless times he’s mentioned something about ‘not deserving it’, even though he is here and he most certainly does deserve to be cared about and loved on. 

Reluctantly, you turn your back to him on the bed. He never says anything after deterring your begging. You never press, either. Still, it hurts, a tangible and heavy weight in your chest that feels an awful lot like rejection.

He slips out the door without another word.

*-+-*

Ghost keeps his distance from you after your little trysts. Purposefully tasking himself with paperwork or training or going on missions for what feels like just the sake of being away from you. 

That’s not true, your mind supplies. He’s just used to being busy. Give yourself some credit.

In the cafeteria, you sat in your usual spot, away but not far from the others, just on the outside of the group, enough that you felt social without actually interacting with anyone else. You pretend you’re engrossed with the pitiful meal in front of you, not noticing when someone approaches.

“Ah, pardon,” an accented voice interrupts your thoughts. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

You’re already saying the words before you think about it. “Not at all.” Realizing you just reflexively allowed a stranger near you,, you look up to take in who has decided to give you company and nearly gasp out loud. If you weren’t feeling shy and humble before, you certainly do now.

One of the KorTac recruits, if the patch for the company means anything. He towers over you, more so than Ghost does. The only detail you can see about his face is his eyes. Where Ghost’s eyes feel like they pierce into you when he looks, his eyes are soft and gentle. Judging by the way he’s holding himself (a respectable distance from you, still, veiled head tilted like a curious and inquisitive dog waiting to hear a keyword), his entire self is one gentle giant.

You gesture for him to sit. He does so, across the table from you, carefully settling down instead of haphazardly throwing himself onto the bench like most everyone else does. He hesitates to move any further, anxiously wringing his hands until you realize you’ve been staring. “Sorry, I…” you scramble for an excuse, but you have none.

This guy is simply absurdly attention grabbing. 

“It is alright,” he sheepishly brings one hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I understand that my stature may be somewhat of a shock to some.” He sounds damn near apologetic, like he had a choice in whether he was to be 6’10 or not.

“I think most of us are just surprised to be put in our place by you.” A palm comes up to rub your eye, needing to move to get jitters out of your system without being obvious. “You’re taller than the lieutenant, even. That’s impressive.”

As if summoned, Ghost stalks into the room, grabbing a tray and slinking over to sit with his subordinates. When you look away, you can still feel his eyes glaring daggers into you. The realization hits you like a train and you have to bite back a laugh.

That son of a bitch is jealous of you talking to the new guy.

“Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no. I, uh, just realized I never properly asked for your name, is all.”

“Of course,” he murmurs warmly. “My name--or, callsign, at least--is König.”

“Very fancy,” you stutter back. Good lord, König’s callsign is translated into ‘king’. It seems contradictory for someone so unwilling to grab attention. “It sounds nice, too.” Your eyes slide over to look at Ghost again. A smile splits your face when you can see the furrow in his brow as his glare deepens. Someone must ask what’s wrong, because he whips his head to seethe at them instead before standing up stiffly and walking away.

“Um,” König interrupts gently. “Is something wrong, friend?”

The way he says it must make your face color, because he ducks his head nervously, an apology already on the tip of his tongue.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you finally find your words. “L.T. is just taking interest in us talking. He must still be wary of you, somehow.”

“He seems very distant,” König ventures, speaking quietly as if Ghost would be able to hear over the commotion of the room. “Judgemental, even. I will admit, I am somewhat wary of him myself.”

You shrug. “It’s understandable with him. He doesn’t exactly make it easy to get to know him. He has his reasons, though.” When you look up from dazedly staring at the table, König’s eyes are wide and aimed behind you.

“Reason for what?” Ghost’s gruff voice comes from behind your back. You’re not sure if he’s trying to hide the angry tone to it, but if he is, it’s failing horribly. You turn around only to see Ghost glaring into König as if he wasn’t an ally but an enemy instead.

“A reason for you being so moody,” you scowl up at him, his eyes meeting yours. Oh, there’s absolutely something hidden in their depths: anger, contempt, and that same twinkle of jealousy you saw earlier. “You don’t exactly explain to others why you’re so goddamn hostile for no reason.”

“I have my fuckin’ reasons,” he growls. “And those reasons don’t need to be shown to people that don’t need to know them. Understood?”

König nods apprehensively, moving to gather his things and stand. “I should--uh, be going.” He nods his head to you and Ghost nervously. “It was very nice to meet you both.” Without another word, he strides away, not looking back, head hunched down into his shoulders.

You turn in your seat to give Ghost his own taste of a glare. “What’s your problem? He’s new; I didn’t want him to feel like an oddball by being rude to him.” You huff. “Though it seems you have no issue with it.”

Ghost stubbornly doesn’t respond. He never does when you call him out for things like this. Instead, when you turn away to continue eating, his gloved hand settles on your shoulder and grips, startling you. “He was getting too comfy with you,” he grunts petulantly. 

“He’s new,” you retort. “He needed someone to be comfy with, asshat.”

“I don’t think you understand.” Ghost voice is right in your ear now, making you involuntarily shiver. “More comfy than I wanted him to be. Do you need a reminder of who you belong to?”

Even with the warmth settling in your chest, you’re not fazed. “Dunno. You don’t exactly act like I belong to anyone, let alone you.” A low jab, for sure, but you were still irritated by the exclusively friends-with-benefits situation Ghost seemed to think you two had.

Ghost hums lecherously. “You want a reminder? Be at my quarters at 1900. I’ll do a thorough job of reminding you that you belong to someone.” With that, he stands straight and pats your shoulder as if he hadn’t just promised to meet you alone in his room later that evening. “In the meantime,” he says nonchalantly, “be ready for--what is it you wanted?--an overnight stay.” 

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

A Bounty As Boundless As The Sea | Chapter 3

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: One Piece (Liveaction 2023) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dracule Mihawk x F!Reader Characters: Dracule Mihawk, Original Characters, Akagami no Shanks, Roronoa Zoro , Perona. Warnings: Mention of blood and physical torture, violence, 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching. Summary: Constantly evading capture due to a bounty on your head, you were forced to embrace the life of a pirate, despite your initial desire for a thrilling adventure and a simple exploration of the world. One fateful day, the Marines dispatched Dracule Mihawk to hunt you down, plunging you into a game of hide and seek with the formidable Warlord of the sea throughout the East Blue. However, to your surprise, the man proved to be less bloodthirsty and hostile than you had anticipated. His piercing, hawk-like eyes, shimmering with a deep golden hue, left an indelible impression on your mind, while his apathetic yet self-assured demeanor ignited a newfound sense of intrigue within you.

Credits: The divider was made by firefly-graphics.

Tagging: @gg-trini, @commanderfreethatdust, @canthebest1, @shakysif, @i-am-vita. If anyone else wants to be tagged in the future chapters, feel free to drop me a comment!

Read on AO3.

Dracule Mihawk, a man shrouded in mystery, had an allure that was almost impossible to ignore, even with scant knowledge about him. As fate would have it, this powerful attraction was reciprocated.

Warning: This chapter includes detailed smut!

When you offered that invitation to Dracule Mihawk, your intentions were unclear even to yourself. His heroic deed of saving you from a nearly unavoidable fatality seemed to instinctively provoke this response, and the prospect of an early departure was far from desirable, given the considerable time it took you to expunge his presence from your thoughts.

But now, as he stepped onto your ship and entered your private quarters—a place where no other man had previously been allowed—your heart refused to stay silent. The confined space of your vessel, where the bar area was placed in close proximity to your bed with only a modest couch acting as a divider, certainly did not help the situation.

Fortunately, you had a separate room dedicated to personal hygiene, discreetly placed on the opposite side and hidden behind a modest door. Thus, you allowed him to make himself comfortable, promptly excusing yourself to retreat into the washroom.

You hastily freshened up to restore your appearance after the strenuous battle, fixing your makeup and swiftly changing into a new attire. You didn't want to come across as overly provocative, but as a woman, you felt compelled to look decent in his commanding presence. You opted for a pair of velvety shorts, fastened with a broad belt that featured a striking golden buckle. You also picked a soft, high-quality leather top, adorned with a tasteful set of front laces that ensured it clung flatteringly to your torso. You chose, however, to completely abandon any form of footwear, allowing your legs and feet to be entirely unencumbered.

While looking good was of utter importance, you also needed to feel comfortable in your own space. Perhaps it was a bit too much considering you had a special guest, but you always valued presenting your authentic self, regardless of the occasion.

Or maybe, unbeknownst to you, Mihawk's calming aura instilled such a sense of ease that any need for formality was discarded. This notion struck you as profoundly ironic, especially considering that his initial task was to pursue and capture you.

Or worse.

As you exited the room, your bare feet meeting the cool wooden planks, your eyes locked with his golden stare. He was seated on the couch, legs crossed elegantly with his hands resting on his knees. His sword, tall enough to be mistaken for a menacing figure, was strategically placed beside the couch. Despite the indoor setting, his hat remained firmly on his head.

He was silent, scrutinizing you with an intense gaze. Attempting to maintain your composure, you sauntered over to the counter and fetched a pair of glasses.

With an air of nonchalance, you remarked, "You strike me as the wine type. Do you like it?”

"Wine is fine," he responded, his voice carrying a subtle undertone of indifference.

You acknowledged his response, turning to uncork one of the most exquisite wines procured in the East Blue. As you proceeded to pour the liquid, his expression immediatly altered, his eyes catching a glimpse of the scars on your back, stretching across your right shoulder from under your sleeveless top.

"What is that?"

He shattered the silence with a question that momentarily eluded your understanding. You swiveled your head around to face him, registering how his focus had drifted to your back. It didn't take long for you to discern what had suddenly ensnared his interest.

You answered with a casual shrug, filling both your glasses. "A souvenir from the Admiral I took down.”

Would he even have the inclination to learn about it? Did you harbor the bravery to revisit a nightmarish past you had strenuously endeavored to expunge from your memory?

Mihawk maintained his silence, which eventually led you to decide to lay it all out. "He took pleasure in using my back as his personal canvas to inflict and inscribe his marks.”

The echo of the man's laugh still rang in your ears, his sadistic, malevolent grin imprinted in your mind.

"Everything started with a mere piece of bread. I was starving and my timing was off. They assumed I was a pirate, never bothering to reason with me or listen to my side of the story.”

You made your way back to the couch, extending his glass for him to accept. His hawk-like eyes were transfixed on your form, not blinking once. Gradually, Mihawk accepted the offered wine, his fingers lightly grazing yours in the process.

You resumed your narration, settling down on the plush cushions next to him. "They always label pirates as the scum of the earth, the vilest breed of men alive. I've encountered my fair share of despicable ones, that's a fact, but the Marines can surpass them all in their depravity.”

Mihawk sipped his drink, his focus drifting away as he seemed to be engrossed in deep thought.

"It's not your identity that defines you. It's your actions, your choices. Deeds can resonate more powerfully than words.”

He swallowed the ruby-red, invigorating liquid, and you couldn't help but be captivated by the movement of his Adam's Apple.

"I apologize if I'm boring you," you confessed, smiling. "But tell me something; is your presence here really just a mere coincidence?”

Finally, as he set his glass down, holding it just above his lap, he hummed in response. "I have no interest in chasing after you.”

"Ouch," you answered playfully. "That's unfortunate. I was under the impression I was starting to grow on you.”

The way his eyes shifted back to you from the side, stern yet somehow comical, elicited a gentle chuckle from you.

"Regardless of what brought you here, it turned out to be beneficial for me, so... thank you.”

You changed your position, leaning your back against the couch and bringing the rim of the cold glass to your lips. As you moved, your thigh brushed against his, sparking a fleeting touch that sent a flutter of butterflies to your stomach.

Your hand softly traced your belly, where a few twinges of pain from the kick you received were still lingering. Mihawk appeared to notice this, his eyes falling on your fingers as they curled around the soft fabric of your top.

"I wonder, who is Dracule Mihawk, truly?" You pondered aloud. "You are not the subservient figure everyone portrays when they talk about you Warlords, are you?”

"I am certainly not,” he said with a grimace.

You appreciated the concise and earnest responses he offered when he was perfectly capable of delivering more elaborate speeches out of the blue. He was one-of-a-kind, enigmatic, and undoubtedly a man of many talents.

Once, you were filled with fear at the mere thought of him. Now, all you felt was a pulsing curiosity and a magnetic attraction.

"No, of course. I can see that.”

If only you could probe deeper, uncover more about this formidable man who had the power to erase your existence with the slightest touch.

"What held you back when you first saw me?" You questioned him. "I wasn't even aware of you then. You could have easily trapped me, vanquished me as you were expected to do.”

"Like I mentioned, I wanted to verify for myself if the reputation that preceded you was warranted.”

"Yes, and you also told me that you can become particularly laidback when you don't have anything interesting to keep yourself occupied with.”

He gave an almost imperceptible shrug, raising the glass back to his lips for another sip.

"Was that all there was to it? Boredom? Did you spare my life simply because there would be nothing to gain from my death?”

Was there something more underlying his benevolence?

"Why are you interested in knowing?”

"Because I don't get it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes, Mihawk. I do.”

He didn't react, merely looking at you while keeping a calm and elegant posture on the couch. He had the aura of a refined Lord from affluent lands, akin to a king who carried his throne with him wherever he went.

"I left my hometown with the aspiration of finding a better life, oblivious to what I could find. All I was met with was prejudice, cruelty, violence, and greed.”

He listened in silence, gently swirling the half-empty glass in his hand.

"I genuinely thought you were no different, that you would kill me. But not only did you spare my life once, you literally saved my neck today.”

You leaned in, tilting your head to lock gazes with him more intensely. “I wasn't your responsibility, you could have left me there.”

His eyes dropped momentarily, only to return to your face with renewed determination.

"I simply chose not to," he responded.

No explanation or reasoning. His statement just stood as an unquestionable fact.

At that, you smiled. "Like I said, actions can define us better than words will ever do. You might be a Warlord of the sea, and the most formidable swordsman in the world. But more than anything, you're a good man.”

"A good man, you say?”

“Yes.”

"Don't be naive. I operate by my own rules, at my own pace. I can remove anyone without needing a particular reason, and I won't hesitate to topple those who dare to oppose me.”

Clearly, his aim was to sound intimidating and threatening. Yet, for some reason, his efforts didn't seem to impact you as he intended.

"Obviously," you retorted, as if his words were the most normal thing to hear. "But here's the thing; I held my knife to your throat, and yet, here I stand.”

His eyebrows arched as he regarded you with a mix of playfulness and mockery. "Did you believe that would frighten me away?”

"Certainly not. My point is that you didn't even make an attempt to disarm me.”

"So?”

You sighed. "So, we're back to the beginning. You could have overpowered me in a multitude of ways, left me to my fate, but for some inexplicable reason, you decided to help me.”

He hardly even blinked.

"You claimed I was intriguing, yet I mean nothing to you. I don't even pose a substantial challenge in battle.”

"That is your perspective.”

"No, it's an undeniable truth.”

"You were battling against a whole crew of men eager to claim your head.”

"And they would have succeeded if it weren't for your intervention. What do you think would happen if, for some reason, I found myself in a fight against you?”

He rolled his eyes. "All I'm hearing is pointless prattle.”

He definitely had a knack for being unnerving as well.

"What enjoyment could you possibly derive from keeping me alive?”

For the first time, you saw him genuinely struggle, as he parted his lips to speak, but halted himself mid-sentence. He pondered over it, searching for the appropriate explanation to provide.

When he finally did, you felt your breath hitch in your throat due to the spark you saw in his golden irises.

"I'm intrigued to see where your resilience might take you.”

You blinked a few times, feeling the glass almost slip from your grasp. "Are you implying that it would be a waste if I were to die?”

"This world could use a bit of a shake-up.”

The Warlord was artfully sidestepping your questions, not providing the answers you seeked but instead offering new perspectives on his intentions. As the strongest swordsman with no real competitor capable of giving him a worthy challenge, he had no other ambition left to chase after. Was he longing for a new type of world, reformed with more deserving and honorable people like yourself?

Your lips stretched into an even wider smile as you quietly brought the remaining drops of your wine to them.

He mirrored your action, draining his glass without breaking the eye contact, before setting it on the coffee table in front of him and rising to his feet.

From your seated position, he appeared incredibly towering and commanding.

"You ought to leave this town," he suggested, reaching for his sword. "Before someone else decides to come after you again.”

The color almost washed out from your face as you realized that he was about to depart. You knew it was irrational, preposterous, and somewhat immature, but you weren't ready for him to leave just yet.

Perhaps it was the wine, coupled with the earlier Daiquiri, clouding your judgment and bringing forth your most illogical thoughts. But for a fleeting moment, you were tempted to grasp his coat, draw him back down, and ask him to stay for a little while longer.

But you didn't.

"Oh... uh, yes. I should indeed.”

You also rose from the couch, moving towards the counter, intent on procuring more wine to drink. Without even a second thought, you poured some into your glass, watching as the crimson liquid flowed out, reminiscent of the blood that once seeped from your now healed wounds.

"It's ironic, you know," you voiced out, unable to suppress your churning thoughts.

"What is?" He asked indifferently.

You weren't supposed to reveal it, you shouldn't have let the alcohol amplify your instincts.

You didn't bother to turn around, as your mind became chaotic the moment you let it all spill out for him to hear. "There was a time when I wanted to just rid myself of you. But now, I almost wish you didn't have to go.”

As much as you tried to find a reasonable explanation, you couldn't decipher what it was about Mihawk that had you so enthralled. You had only shared a few words with the man; he was a solitary figure with an apparent disinterest in anything or anyone around him, unless it involved a good fight. He was sent by the Marines to hunt you down, only to observe you and then let you be. He saved your life of his own volition, stating that he wanted to see where your path would lead.

He was a stranger, someone you might not encounter again anytime soon.

And somehow, irrespective of the influence of alcohol, you found yourself needing him.

Given that Mihawk had noticeably halted in his tracks, you anticipated him either distancing himself with a harsh retort or simply walking away, disregarding your partially inebriated state completely.

However, he didn't even budge, boring holes into your back with his hawk-like, fiery scrutiny.

You spun around, leaning against the counter and bringing the glass to your lips once more. "Stay safe out there, Warlord.”

How foolish did that sound? If there was anyone who didn't need to worry about a single thing, it was Mihawk. You had heard tales of how he could even slice a bullet in half when someone attempted to shoot him unawares.

And yet, a part of you still felt compelled to worry about him, to wish him safe travels, free from any potential hazards.

Silly, that's what you were. So utterly, ridiculously silly.

However, events took such an unforeseen twist that you didn't even know how to process it. Silently, he returned the sword to its original position next to the couch, before taking a few strides in your direction. He halted right in front of you, so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. He simply inspected your puzzled face, quiet and thoughtful, while you could only return the stare with a questioning expression.

The moment he reached for his hat, your heart rate quickened, pounding so heavily that you could hear it in your ears. For the first time, he removed the accessory, liberating his head from its covering, and placed it on the counter right beside you. You observed his forehead, no longer in shadow, and his eyes seemed even brighter and more golden. The dark roots of his hair were impeccably combed and aligned, with his soft locks following the curve of his head and ending at his nape.

Unable to hold back, you let your eyes fall directly onto his lips. They were perfectly sculpted, the upper lip creating a sinuous curve, looking absolutely enticing and positively delectable.

He continued, slowly taking hold of your glass and removing it from your hands, only to gently place it on the other side of the bar counter. You were left speechless, bewildered, and at a loss for words. Your hands lingered in the air, now empty.

You wanted to ask him why he was standing so close and suddenly looking as if he wanted to devour you. You wanted to understand what was going through his mind, but you couldn't even construct a coherent sentence because he didn't give you the chance to. His fingers brushed along the back of your neck, sliding upward, and gathering a handful of your hair in his fist. He wasn't gripping you particularly hard, but his hold was firm enough that your head was gently tilted backward. Your pupils dilated, and his followed suit. He wasn't causing you any pain, not even the slightest bit... but you could sense the roughness in his actions.

“You do enjoy playing with fire, don’t you?”

His voice was low and alluring, his hot breath on your skin exhilarating.

You smirked, swallowing your nervousness. "What can I say? Water is for the weak.”

He hummed in his typical manner, seemingly approving of your comeback.

"I should warn you, I'm not the gentle type.”

You laughed, your breath slightly shaky. "Is that supposed to scare me off?”

Instinctively, your hands found solace around the edges of his coat, drawing him closer against you.

His grip on your hair slackened, but he kept you securely in place. "If it did, I would be disappointed. As long as you understand what to brace yourself for.”

"Why are you still talking?”

The corners of his lips tilted upward, so subtly that it could easily go unnoticed. It was a faint grin that made your knees feel weak.

“Not a worthy challenge, hey?”

In that moment, you understood he was referencing your earlier statement. You might have been utterly insignificant against him on the battlefield, but he was clearly viewing you as a great adversary throughout your intimate banter.

Somehow, that provided a significant boost to your confidence.

You tightened your grip on his coat, breathing against his lips, your own barely brushing his chin, eagerly anticipating his next move. "Still talking. Come on, you can do better than that.”

It didn't take long for him to finally relinquish his own inhibitions. Without any warning, he crashed his lips against yours, initiating what you could only describe as the most intense, sexiest, and passionate kiss a man had ever bestowed upon you. His mouth was so forceful and quick that you could barely keep pace; his tongue immediately found yours and initiated a sensual dance.

You didn't want to be left behind. Pushing aside the slight haze clouding your mind due to the wine, which you could also taste on his lips, you grasped the lapels of his coat and reciprocated the kiss with equal intensity and a mounting desperation. His fingers completely let go of your hair, only to fan out over your nape, enveloping it in his grip. His mustache and beard were tickling your face, but you found it absolutely enchanting.

Only when you felt the need to breathe again did he detach from you with a wet pop sound, immediately descending to your neck to plant open-mouthed kisses on its sensitive nerves.

You felt his touch on the front of your top, as his middle and forefinger started to tug at the laces, undoing the main knot slowly but with evident eagerness. He wasn't joking when he said you shouldn't expect the gentle type, as he preferred to get straight to the point without much preamble. Given his typically apathetic demeanor, you were taken aback to see him so engrossed in the situation, let alone in you. Never for a moment did you think he could view you in such a manner, and whether he was doing it now in response to your provocation, or because of a deeper interest that began well before that day, you weren't sure.

You surmised that he needed to let go from time to time to release his tension. After all, he was still a man.

And you were completely on board for it.

His lips were impatient, almost hungrily latching onto the skin at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. Your eyes rolled back into your head, and a soft moan escaped from your lips, which only spurred him on to touch you with even more force.

It was different, and it was new. But he wasn't causing you any pain, and this rougher side of him was rather enticing.

He lifted your top, the fabric brushing along your stomach, up to your breasts and over your chest. You silently complied, raising your arms and allowing him to remove the garment, which ended up tossed on the floor. His eyes were mesmerizing, and you couldn't look away.

Now, with only a thin bra as your shield, a surge of self-consciousness began to creep in. Despite this, you stood your ground, refusing to let it hinder you. Tentatively, you slid your hands along his arms, daring to rest your fingertips on his collarbones. He waited, motionless, anticipating more.

Your exploration continued, descending to his pectorals and lightly brushing the cold metal of his golden cross. Then, you moved back upwards, sliding your hands under his coat, gently pushing it off his shoulders to remove it. His skin was silky smooth and warm, it made your mouth water from your caresses alone. The coat dropped next to your shirt, and without it, he suddenly seemed incredibly bare despite still wearing his trousers and boots.

It was quite amusing to see. His coat was like a suit of armor, a cape, protecting him from all that was undesirable. And now, he stood there, a figure of strength yet imbued with vulnerability, prepared to surrender himself to you.

Once more, blinded by your desire for him, you fervently locked your lips with his. Your arms encircled his neck, fingers entwining with the strands of his hair. The discomfort of your back against the counter urged you to move away from it, unintentionally pressing your breasts against his chest in the process.

"Bed," you murmured amidst the flurry of kisses, just before you leapt into his lap, wrapping your legs securely around his waist.

It was a bold move, one that he welcomed with a firm grip and squeeze of your thighs. With careful steps to avoid tripping over the table and couch, Mihawk made his way to the mattress, unceremoniously hurling you onto it. You bounced as he climbed up, encasing you between his legs on either side of your body. His penetrating stare from above served as a vivid reminder of who was truly in command, eliciting a smirk of satisfaction from you.

His right hand gravitated towards the cross pendant on his chest, while his left one deftly located the knot of the black lace that held it around his neck. He loosened it, only to take off the golden cap of the cross, revealing a concealed small knife within it.

Admittedly, you were decidedly perplexed and anxious, observing him gaze down at you with the dagger held delicately between his fingers. However, the moment he guided the blade to your chest, positioned precisely above the center of your bra, his intentions became clear.

The instant he slid the knife under the band connecting the cups of your bra, you stopped him by seizing his wrist.

"Don't you dare," you warned menacingly. "It has a clasp, you know.”

The way he arched an eyebrow at you spoke volumes, subtly hinting that he had no intention of wasting his time with it.

With a frustrated groan, you arched your upper body, managing to reach the clasp yourself and unfastening it within mere seconds. "I swear, men can be so lazy at times.”

As you allowed the straps to slide off your shoulders, maintaining the cups in place, Mihawk reassembled the cross and casually placed it on the nightstand next to your bed. He immediately locked his mouth with yours, quickly removing your bra and haphazardly tossing it into the room, his hands simultaneously finding its place on your waist.

You could feel his palms smoothly traversing your sides and making their way up your spine, but the moment his fingertips grazed over some particularly sensitive scars, you jolted upward, and a muffled gasp slipped past your lips.

He paused, his actions coming to a standstill as he studied you. A sudden rush of embarrassment overtook you, prompting you to cast your eyes downward.

"Sorry about that," you apologized, your voice faint and almost inaudible.

You feared that he might decide to leave, irked or repelled by the unsightly network of scars that was ingrained into your skin, resembling an irregular spiderweb. You instinctively guarded your body, precariously perched on the edge of the mattress, awkwardly biting your tongue.

His tone was firm, authoritative, yet unexpectedly gentle when he spoke to you. "Show me.”

Before you had the opportunity to look at him again, he hastily guided you to rotate, nudging you to sit facing away from him. You found yourself frozen, rendered mute, with your arms protectively crossed over your chest as he inspected your back. He observed every nuance, carefully tracing the outlines of your scars with his index and middle finger.

When your voice finally found its way back, you released your pent-up thoughts. "It's not a pleasant sight, I know.”

"I've seen worse,” he stated.

He sounded unperturbed, casual, as if what he was observing was nothing to fuss over.

You smiled. "And done worse?”

"That might be true as well.”

Somehow, as macabre as the conversation was, it managed to lighten the mood, eliciting a brief chuckle from you.

“Are you scared of me?”

But then, his question took you by surprise. "No. Why?”

“You’re shaking like a leaf.”

And you realized that he was right, as your entire body quivered under his soft touch. Despite his inherent deadly nature, it felt incredibly soothing to have him attentively handle the scars you so deeply despised.

It was nothing he hadn't seen before. As a swordsman, he had undoubtedly came across countless injured and fallen bodies in all sorts of gruesome conditions. Your scars meant nothing to him, and yet, he behaved as someone who genuinely felt a need to reassure you about them.

In a way, you got the impression that he was attempting to make you feel proud of the marks you bore.

"I'm not afraid, Mihawk. Not of you.”

Should you have been, really?

"And right now... this feels nice.”

His fingers decelerated their movement, hovering over the lengthy scar that trailed along the back of your shoulders. He tuned into your breathing, shaky and rapid, using it as an indication for his subsequent moves.

He drew you closer, reaching out to guide your arms away from your chest, granting him a better view. The cool cabin air heightened the growing excitement stirring in you, causing your nipples to stiffen instantly. Releasing your wrists, his roughened palms smoothly traveled along your stomach, eventually encircling your breasts, now fully exposed. Holding their soft flesh and lifting them, his thumbs traced tantalizing circles around the tips, making you involuntarily lean onto his elbows for support.

You let your head find comfort on his shoulder, the slight prickling sensation of his beard grazing your cheek. He was relentless, teasing you with his enticing motions, awaiting the moment when you would unravel under his skilled touch. Already, you were a picture of disarray, moaning and squirming within his hold.

Both of you rose to your knees for better positioning, and as he continued to stimulate your body, you could increasingly feel his undeniable hardness pressing against you through his trousers. You grappled to maintain your balance, his thumbs quickening their pace on your nipples, while his hips executed synchronized grinding circles with yours.

To say he was driving you wild would be an understatement. One of his hands left your chest to venture lower, this time, making a beeline for your belt buckle. He quickly managed to undo it, slipping inside your undergarments, and reaching his intended destination.

The moan that escaped you was quite unabashed, but there was little you could do when his fingers discovered your clitoris, skillfully stroking it up and down. Any other man, upon getting to this point, would stop before you could reach your climax, purely to extend your pleasure and ensure that you wouldn't finish before them. Mihawk, however, was not just any man, and judging by the escalating pace of his fingers, it was clear that he had absolutely no intention of severing the physical connection.

He was typically impatient and easily bored, evidently searching for some entertaining diversion to pass the time. Edging you didn't appear to be his goal, and the moment you could sense your impending gratification, trembling and writhing uncontrollably, he applied even more pressure against you. You could feel your clit throbbing, on the brink of release at any moment. Mihawk remained quiet, not making a single sound, his breaths echoing in your ear through his nose.

It was intensely heated, unbearably seductive.

As your legs parted, he took advantage of the moment to gather some of your wetness and employ it to enhance the friction. Your nails dug into the flesh of his arms, yet he remained unfazed and continued. Eventually, he began to move in sync with you, navigating to your entrance and tenderly caressing your clit with the heel of his hand.

The ease with which he curled those digits inside and promptly found your most sensitive area was astounding. He targeted it directly, moving in and out, making a constant beckoning gesture with his fingers. Your eyes rolled back into your head, your voice growing progressively louder, but you found it beyond your control to rein it in.

Your orgasm crashed onto you, exploding from your core like a lightning strike. You jolted and moaned, gasping for breath, as the bed emitted creaks beneath you. He didn't retreat, instead, he slowed his pace but never fully disengaged. Only when he was certain you had no more to offer, did he carefully remove his fingers, affording you the opportunity to regain your lucidity.

It took you a moment to gather yourself, leaning over the mattress and collapsing onto it.

"Well," you declared. "You certainly know what you're doing.”

"Why, did you believe me to be completely inept?"

"Not at all. It's just... you really don't dawdle, do you?”

As you rolled onto your back, you nearly choked on your own saliva. He was hovering over you again, casting a menacing stare from above while he unbuckled his own trousers. Before you could fully process it, the gleaming, flushed tip of his member emerged from the elegant slit in the front of his trousers, a view that subconsciously incited forbidden imagery by putting his navel on display in a normal setting.

He appeared to pause, awaiting something. He glanced at you with a hint of expectation, subtly lifting an eyebrow as if conveying: "What are you waiting for?”

Thus, with your heart fluttering wildly and your stomach churning, you raised your hands to further uncover him, pushing his trousers down along with the undergarments and letting his arousal spring free. It was proud and formidable, as robust as a sword, as fierce as a beast.

Without waiting for him to speak or make any further action, you encircled the base with your palm and guided your hand along its length to the tip. He didn't overtly react, but you noticed him swallow subtly and press his lips more tightly together.

You replicated the maneuver, but with increased pressure and quicker movements. He kept his hands still at his sides, but his fingers twitched intermittently, indicating to you that you were on the right track. You cherished his calmness as much as you relished witnessing his chest heaving at a faster pace than before.

Regrettably, he didn't allow you to complete what you had started. The moment he decided he'd had enough, Mihawk grabbed your wrist and pushed your hand aside. He grasped the hem of your shorts and panties together, swiftly sliding them off your legs in one fluid motion.

He possessed no patience at all, simply taking whatever he wanted, repositioning himself between your legs and aligning with your entrance. As much as you would have loved to see him come undone under your touch, you couldn't truly protest, for you wanted him as intensely as he yearned to be inside you.

His face was stoic, unaltered, almost as if chiseled into a mask. But the way his golden eyes sparkled before you, and his jaw tightened in response to the palpable need overtaking him, managed to stir you even more than the sound of a man moaning in pleasure.

You shifted on the mattress, clutching the covers and spreading your legs further to grant him optimal access. Once again, he hummed in approval, encircling your thighs with his arms and drawing them to his waist.

But he silently stared at you, the tip of his arousal gently nudging your folds without proceeding.

Bewildered, you inquired. "What?"

"Are you truly certain about this?”

Your mouth fell open as you regarded him in disbelief. “I'm right here with my legs spread wide and your damn dick against me. It's a bit late to question me now, don't you think?”

He drew a breath through his nose. “Do you understand what you're about to get into?”

“Uhh… yes? We’re supposed to have sex here. What else could there be?”

Mihawk subtly thrust his hips forward, his warm length nearly entering.

"I won't be gentle," he responded.

“Yeah, you said that already.”

"Even if you plead with me, I won't stop.”

“Do you think I’d ever do that?”

You inferred he simply wanted to ensure you were granting him clear consent to continue. And while you strived to maintain composure, feeling him so close yet so far away, you held respect for his unconventional gentleness. Or whatever it could be called.

“You’re brave,” he stated with a hint of satisfaction. "But don't shed tears later.”

You rolled your eyes. "Mihawk, seriously. Just do it. If you believe I'll break and weep, then don’t.”

To further emphasize your point, you moved your waist allowing his tip to partially slide in. You bit your lower lip to suppress the emerging moan in your throat, and comfortably adjusted by raising your arm and positioning it just behind the pillow under your head.

You were presenting yourself to him, unconditionally, prepared to accept everything he had to offer.

Unable to resist his impulses any longer, Mihawk finally made his move. With a firm, confident thrust, he fully sheathed himself in you. A hiss escaped your lips as you inhaled sharply, your body pushed upwards, head thrown back in response.

You felt unbelieavably full, and without giving you a moment's respite, he quickened the pace. He moved with a rough, and powerful rhythm, his fingertips digging into your skin so deeply that you could feel his nails on it.

At first, your body stretched to accommodate him, a sensation that was slightly painful and not as pleasurable as you wanted it to be. But as soon as you adjusted to it, your muscles relaxed, leading to a wave of delightful ecstasy that ignited your core and sent electrifying sensations through your nerves.

And it felt unlike anything you had ever experienced.

Your moans were soft and melodic, contrasting with his quiet grunts that echoed in his chest. Mihawk quickened his movements even further, generating a set of scandalous sounds that deepened your blush. He was moving with such intensity that you feared your bed might split in half, given the way it vibrated against the wooden wall.

Then he stopped, albeit briefly, to guide you into a different position. "Turn around.”

There was an undeniable ecstasy in the way he treated you. His actions were primal, far removed from romantic, yet paradoxically, despite the evident force in his behavior, he still seemed to treat you with a degree of tenderness and delicacy.

You complied, bending over the mattress, and without wasting any time, he entered you again from behind.

Isaiah had been a wonderful lover, the best you'd ever had, until Mihawk came into the picture. Though you typically refrained from making comparisons, acknowledging that every man is unique in his own way, you couldn't ignore the irrefutable truth: the Warlord was in a league of his own, making you feel guilty for even entertaining such a thought.

The act was carnal and sensual, stirring within you a desire for more when you believed there was nothing else to ask for. He felt absolutely wonderful both in and out, and his touch, tracing over your scars with a strangely protective tenderness that you didn’t expect, ignited a flame in your chest that cascaded downwards. Your clit throbbed, your inner walls convulsed and gripped him with an impossible tightness. You could sense your climax approaching for the second time, spurred on by his relentless thrusts.

Neither of you spoke, but it was fine. You were engrossed in the moment, disregarding the ache in your limbs from the previous exertion. Letting go of the built-up tension post-battle was exactly what you craved, and Mihawk had his fair share of unsettled nerves too. For all you knew, he could have countless women scattered across the four Blues, but the desperate and hungry way his body melded into yours indicated that he wasn't one to frequently seek out or appreciate the company of others.

People often depicted him as a lone wolf, a man enamored with his sword. And yet, here he was, providing you with the most remarkable sexual experience of your entire life.

You found yourself entirely consumed, yielding to his dominant aura, continuously pushed against the mattress, moaning in delight. He had warned you that he wouldn't stop, not even if you pleaded with him, but the only entreaties that escaped your lips were for him to quicken his pace and to continue for as long as he could go.

When he brought his mouth close to your ear, prompting your knees to spread wider with his own, there was only so much you could do to prevent your core from exploding.

Mh. You're managing this better than I expected you would, I'll give you that.”

A chuckle bubbled up from you. "I thought you held me in higher regard.”

“I certainly do now.”

His left arm slithered around your shoulders, securing itself around your neck to encase you and hold you in place. His other hand glided along your side, sneaking to the front and locating your clitoris, so sensitive that you nearly climaxed the moment he pinched it.

You were panting quite heavily now, teetering on the brink of orgasm as you rested your cheek against his arm. You didn't even realize that you were pressing kisses to it, grazing your warm lips along his skin, which was hot and salty.

"Are you there?”

You nodded your head. "Almost.”

"Would you look at that. Your endurance is impressive.”

You laughed, a surge of pride filling your heart. “You're talking too much again, Warlord.”

“Mhh.”

You absolutely adored the vibrations that resonated through his chest whenever he hummed. You felt him pulsing and twitching inside you, signaling that he was as close to the brink as you were. As the resounding slaps of skin meeting skin filled the air around you, his fingers expertly manipulated your sensitive bud. His fingers stroked it, moving in rapic circles, combined with the consistent stimulation of your tender spot inside.

It was too much, and you buried your face in his arm the moment you finally crossed the point of no return.

Your second orgasm was even more intense than the first, a feat you never truly believed was possible. You twitched and trembled from head to toe, tightening around him with each wave of pleasure that took some time to recede.

Eventually, he joined you, quietly succumbing to his own pleasure, grunting softly and brushing his lips against the scar on your shoulder. You were aware that Mihawk did not harbor any specific feelings for you, but despite that, you found his gesture deeply endearing.

And with that, your heart constricted.

As the enchantment of the moment faded, he extricated himself from you and left the bed, fastening his belt and heading back to where his coat lay. As he slipped into it and reached for his hat still resting on the counter, you watched him. Disappointment washed over you for reasons you couldn't quite articulate.

Gathering your strength, you pushed yourself up from the mattress, hastily collecting your underwear and putting it back on, disregarding the shorts strewn on the floor. It took a moment for you to locate the bra he had tossed, which had ended up in a distant corner.

His golden cross knife was still on your bedside table. It felt significantly lighter than you had anticipated as you held it in your hand, lingering on its weight a moment too long. Mihawk was right behind you, his towering presence looming over your smaller frame, waiting for you to return it.

You turned immediatly, smiling, taking hold of the cord on either side and looping it around his neck. You tried to recall the exact length he preferred, gently positioning it on his chest and tying a knot to keep it in place. The ends of his short hair tickled your hands as you secured it, and he allowed you to do so without a single protest or complaint.

Somehow, that act felt even more intimate than what you had just done. His gaze was once again fixed on you, frozen, expressionless, difficult to interpret. The temptation to kiss him again was strong, but with the sexual tension now gone, you feared he might not reciprocate.

And so, you took a step back. "Thank you for the company," you said evenly, feigning indifference to the entire situation.

Whether he believed you or not, you couldn't ascertain. As he casually strolled towards the couch to get his sword, a surge of disappointment engulfed you, leaving you more downcast than you were prepared to acknowledge.

You knew it didn't mean anything. But for the very first time, a part of you had dared to hope there could be something more. You dragged your feet to the bar counter, picking up his empty glass from the table along the way. You quietly cleaned things up, letting the cold water from the sink cascade over your hands.

And just when you thought he had already left, he spoke words that instantly set off a flutter of butterflies in your stomach, soaring straight to your heart.

“Be careful out there.”

You glanced at him once again. His face was as impassive as ever, but the fact that he had taken a moment to express his concern was more than sufficient for you.

You grinned in delight. "Always.”

With a barely noticeable nod, he slung his sword onto his back and stepped away, opening the cabin door and disappearing up the steps. You stayed there, still, listening to the rhythmic sound of his boots meeting the wooden floor as Mihawk steadily departed, until silence engulfed your vessel.

You didn't know when or if you would see him again. The only thing you could do was hope that, sooner rather than later, you would encounter those mesmerizing golden eyes once more.

And as fate would have it, you did.

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