#WRAP YOURSELF IN PETALS FOR ARMOR BABY!!!!!!!!!!

[vinylvacancy]

vinyls from my collection ( in no particular order ) 18 / dead horses

petals for armor ( 2020 ) by hayley williams

[nightwishesworld]

Babysitting (Part 1)

You and Alcina are roped into taking care of your friend's daughter for a few days. Alcina is...less than excited about it. I mean, come on, a baby in Castle Dimitrescu? What could possibly go wrong?!

***********************

The warmth of the afternoon sun crept its way into the windows of Castle Dimitrescu. Both you and Alcina decided it was a beautiful day to take your afternoon tea in the gardens instead of the library . Blooms grew in newly fragranced air, the sweet petals that fluttered reflected by the honeyed-sweetness within. The garden birds always warm your heart. They bring so much joy just from watching them play and dance around the hedges. There are so many of them out today, large and small, brown, red-capped, and golden stripped. You love listening to their chirping, each singing its own beautiful song.

Alcina held your hand over the table as she sipped her special blend of tea.

“Oh, Darling, did I tell you Cristofor and Lucia are going out of town? He says it’s for business but honestly, I think they just want to have a break from the baby. I mean, I don’t blame them, it’s their first kid and you know how hectic everything’s been for them lately."

Alcina nods. “Yes, well, it didn’t help that they were a little unprepared for baby Julianna. That’s her name, right? I remember we offered to buy a few things for them before she was born.”

“Yeah, that’s it, but I just call her Jewel. My precious little gem. I guess they’re gonna be gone for the extended weekend and need someone to watch her.”

Alcina scoffs. “I pity those they choose.”

“Oh stop it, Alcina, it won’t be that bad.”

She stops what she’s doing, nearly choking on her tea, and just stares at you. “You didn’t. You did not! Please for the love of Mother Miranda tell me you didn’t say we would take care of her!”

Your silence was all the answer she needed.

“Why would you do that? Castle Dimitrescu is no place for a baby!”

“Tell that to Cris! I tried telling him that and all he did was assure me that everything would be fine. They feel Jewel would be safest in our care; they were practically begging, Al. What was I supposed to say?”

“No?” You roll your eyes at her. “What about their family? Are they really not available?”

“Lucia said she would feel guilty asking her folks to do any more for them. They usually watch her every day Cris and Lucia are at work. Imagine that plus three straight days; I would want a break too.”

Alcina stayed silent.

“They’re gonna stop by in a few days with some stuff, like diapers and toys and things.”

Alcina huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m so glad you discussed the details so thoroughly with them.”

“I figured you would say no. Look, I’m sorry I went behind your back but they really need a babysitter and they don’t trust anyone as they do us. Besides, I’m Jule’s unofficial aunt, I don’t think I can say no to something like this. I know you don’t like kids, but-”

“What are you talking about? I love seeing little Julianna.”

“You do? Cause every time they come to visit you seem kind of...distant”

“I don’t...I don’t like holding her. She’s too tiny and fragile for someone like me to be holding.”

“Someone like you?” Then it dawned on you. “Oh, Alci. You don’t actually believe that, do you? You’re always so gentle with her.”

“Because if I’m not delicate I’ll crush her.” Alcina’s face held sorrow to it, not evident to most individuals.

“You wouldn’t crush her, Alci. I know you better than that. You literally came running into my study the other day because I screamed ‘spider,’ and then carried me out because I lost sight of it. You’re a lot more gentle than you’re giving yourself credit.You're a good, thoughtful, and gentle person Alci. Anyone who can’t see that is purely idiotic,” I muttered under my breath.

“I suppose it’s not the worst thing in the world, having a baby running around the castle. And we have time to babyproof everything.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard, love, she’s only seven months old. She’s only just starting to learn how to crawl.”

You were talking but Alcina wasn’t listening. She was too busy making a mental checklist of everything that needed to be done before baby Julianna arrived. “Hmm? Oh yes, of course, darling. Do you know where they got those baby gates? We’re going to need quite a few of them.”

“Alci, I don’t think we’ll need-” She’s already walked away. “ Hey, at least you’re embracing it?”

True to his word, Cris arrived at the castle three days later with a carriage full of supplies. You wanted to welcome them with Alcina, but the matriarch was nowhere to be found. The past few days for her have been spent deep cleaning the walls and floors, which really sucked, especially for Bela, Cassi, and Dani. They stuck doing the hard labor as Alcina bossed them around.

You greeted him with a tight hug. “Thank god you’re here. Alcina’s going crazy trying to babyproof everything. I don’t think the castle’s ever been this protected. Or this clean,” I muttered the last part under my breath.

Cris put a hand over his heart. “Oh, she doesn’t have to do that! Julianna can barely crawl five feet. Besides, I know for certain this place is much neater than our house, even on a bad day. She would have been perfectly fine.”

“I tried to tell her to not worry so much, but it just goes in one ear and out the other. Perhaps if she hears it from you she’ll finally listen,” I rolled my eyes playfully.

Cris nods. “And you wonder why I think Julianna’s so safe up here. I’ll be sure to mention it to Alcina. Do you wanna unload this stuff now or wait for her?”

You glance behind him to the carriage. There were a few large bags filled with miscellaneous items as well as a few larger things on the back seat not bagged at all like the playpen. “I don’t even know where she is, Cris. And I’d offer to have the girls help, but they’re hiding from Alci. Let’s just get started. We can put it in the lounge in the foyer until Alcina comes around.”

“Sounds like a plan. Some of this stuff I’ll bring more of when we drop her off, like diapers, you’ll never have enough diapers,” he says as he tosses you a bag.

“So you’ve said. Didn’t you have a nightmare about it once?”

“Before Lucia even went into labor. We ran out and every shop in a 50-mile radius was sold out. To date, it’s one of my worst nightmares.”

You laughed. “So where are you guys going? I mean, really going. You don’t actually think I believe that crap about a Mortician Expo, do you?”

Cris gave you a look of skepticism and stayed silent as if he were planning his next move.

“Relax man, I don’t actually care. Taking care of a baby is more work than I can imagine. I would want a break too!” The statement seemed to ease him.

“Nowhere special. We made reservations at a nice hotel a few hours south of here; it’s got a pool, hot tub, couples massages, the works!”

You nod, tossing the last of the bags by the lounge. “Nice! You guys deserve it, like I said, I can’t imagine how much work taking care of Julianna is.”

“You won’t have to in a few days,” he laughed.

“I’m excited now, but something tells me I won’t be in a few days. Just sleep deprived!”

“Nah you’ll love it. It’s just, well only slightly tiring! That’s all. Should we go looking for Alcina? I wanna go over Julianna’s schedule with both of you.”

“She knew you were coming so she should be here any minute now. I’m sure she just lost track of time bossing the girls around. The entire west wing has been baby-proofed and when I mean the entire wing, I mean the entire wing. She had Daniela take down all of the ornate weapons and armor from the walls while Bela and Cassi scrubbed everything. And that was just this morning.”

“I’ll be sure to thank them then,” Cris chuckled lightheartedly.

As if on cue, you can just make out the sound of high heels rushing down the corridor, only to stop abruptly just around the corner. Knowing Alcina she was probably adjusting herself to look like her usual well-presented way. Sure as rain, Alcina approached looking as elegant as ever. “Oh Cristofor, please forgive me. It’s been total chaos around here- I completely lost track of time and-”

Cris waved it off and took her hand in his, bringing it up so he could kiss her wedding ring. “Think nothing of it, Alcina. I heard you’ve been keeping yourself busy.”

The matriarch sent you a glare that you shrug off with a smug smile.

“You don’t need to worry about anything, Alcina. I know my little girl will be in the best care possible up here. There’s no one Lucia and I trust more.”

“That is one very generous statement, Cristofor, but a castle is still no place for a baby, especially this one.”

“That may hold some truth, but most of all that...messy business stays in the basement, right?”

“All of it does,” you answer for Alcina. “Even I’m not allowed down there and we’ve been married for three and a half years!”

“And for good reason,” Alcina says. “You know what goes on down there. Why would I put my wife’s life in danger?”

You were about to retaliate but Cris wrapped his arms around the both of you. “Let’s just get this stuff upstairs, huh? Far the fuck away from the basement and whatever goes on down there.”

Alcina opens her mouth but Cris shakes his head profusely. “Nope, don’t want to know. Let’s just get to the bedroom. Wow, the walls do look bare.”

“Indeed,” Alcina nodded. “It’s a good thing little Julianna is staying, I should have had the walls deep cleaned nearly decades ago,” she let out an elegant laugh.

“I hope you didn’t do all this just for us.” Cris looked in awe as the various portraits and ornate weapons decorating the walls became more scarce as they neared the master bedroom. It made this part of the castle feel abandoned. The chemical smell of cleaning solvents was strong, but it would surely be gone in time for Julianna’s arrival.

“Of course I did. You are family and you deserve nothing but the best possible care.”

Cristofor shakes his head. "You're a good woman, Alcina. I genuinely hope you know that."

She gives him a warm smile while holding the bedroom door open for him. "I try to be."

"So," he sets down his two large boxes of supplies to rub his back. "Where do you want this stuff?"

"At the foot of the bed for now," you shrug. "Alcina and I will organize everything once it's all here."

He nodded and kicked it lazily to the end of the bed and took a seat on the mattress. "If we wanna be lazy we could shove the rest of the boxes in the playpen and carry it all up in one trip."

"We can do that," you smiled. "Then we can start organizing everything."

"And while we're doing that I'd like to walk you through Julianna's schedule. Lucia made you a copy with a couple of notes on how to do specific things...it's all well let’s just say pretty detailed," he laughed.

A look of fear crossed over the matriarch's face for a moment. "Why don't I go grab it? Then you two can start unpacking. If I run into the girls I'll send them up as well."

"Oh leave the girls alone," you shake your head at the matriarch. "They're already hiding from you."

Alcina lets out an exasperated laugh. "Can you believe that, Cristofor? My own daughters are hiding from me!" Alcina exclaimed with a look of sheer amusement on her face.

"Nothing I'm looking forward to." You started unpacking the many boxes of  diapers and arranging them neatly on the already emptied shelves while Cris made himself comfortable sitting on the floor, unpacking blankets and clothes. He unfolded and refolded them in a perfect square and placed them on top of the hope chest. You smiled at each plush blanket bearing a different pattern and color.

"Where can I put her clothes?"

"Um, just on the bed for now. I don't know if Alcina emptied out a drawer yet. It would be that middle one if you wanna check."

You hear almost all the joints in his legs crack as he stands and makes his way over to the dresser. He grips the knobs but pauses before opening them. "I'm not gonna find anything dirty in here, am I?"

"Not in there, no."

He turns back to you with an arched brow and hung jaw. You only laugh at him.

"Is it cleared out?"

He nods, neatly organizing the various onesies and pajama sets.

He busied himself displaying various lotions and powders on the coffee table, which would act as your changing station.

“What can I do?” Alcina asked, staring down anxiously at the various bottles.

Cris thought for a moment before taking two smaller boxes out of the playpen and pushing them towards the vampire. “These are for bath time." He quickly scanned over the contents to make sure he was correct. "This box is shampoos, soaps, and toys. Julianna loves bath time; the more toys and games the better." Alcina smiled. “And this box is her special duck towel, washcloth- also a duck pattern she loves ducks, two non-slip bath mats for both inside and outside the tub, and a sponge.”

She looked a tad overwhelmed again taking in all the items but took the boxes nonetheless. “Good thing I cleared out cupboard space, right darling?”

You wanted to laugh but restrained yourself to biting the inside of your cheek instead. “Yes, dear.”

"Well, that's everything. Oh, and don't worry about a crib. Lucia and I are bringing it when we drop Julianna off."

Alcina shook her head and simply waved him off. "Oh don't bother, Cristofor. We have one she's more than welcome to use."

You gave her a confused look. "Um, no we don't."

"Yes, we do. I just have to grab it out of storage. If you'd like to wait and see if it's up to your standards you're more than welcome to." It wasn't so much of an invitation as it was a plea.

Cris laughed. "Alcina, I told you anything you have is probably way better than ours. I'm sure it's fine."

"It would make me feel a lot better," Alcina said with a hint of desperation in her voice.

"Alright, whatever it takes to make you feel better about this."

Alcina sighed in relief and rushed down the hall.

"She really is worked up about this isn't she?"

You let yourself collapse back onto the bed. "You have no idea. She's been fretting over everything since I told her three whole days ago!"

"I kinda figured she would be the calm one between the two of you since, you know, she's got three kids already."

You feigned a look of hurt. "Ok first of all, ouch my pride! Secondly, all three of the girls were turned when they were adults. Which is why I wanna know where this supposed crib came from."

He turned back to you. "And you know what you're doing?"

"Of course not, but one of us has to be calm about it."

Cris laughed, letting himself lounge back on his elbows. Any further down and he was afraid he would fall asleep. "I guess that's true. You're gonna be great though, both of you. Just the fact that you're worrying about all this stuff tells me you're really dedicated to keeping Julianna safe and happy here."

"Thanks, man. I think I really needed to hear that. Got any advice to help us prepare?"

He slaps a hand on your thigh and gives it a friendly squeeze. "Have as much sex as you can before she's here. Because once she is, you'll be way too tired to even think about it."

You sit up and look at him incredulously, which earns him a hearty laugh. "I asked you for advice on how to keep your baby alive and you tell me to bone my wife?"

"All I'm saying is Lucia and I haven't been able to do it since before Julianna was born," Cris whispered in all seriousness.

Alcina returned carrying what you can only assume is the crib covered with a sheet. Bela stepped in first to hold the door open for her.

"Thank you, darling. I found my one good daughter to help me. Not the rascals this time!"

Cris laughs. "I see that."

The blonde nodded and joined you both on the bed. "Hello, y/n. Hello, Uncle Cris."

"Good to see you, Bela."

“Alright,” you hop off the bed. “Let’s see this crib that we apparently have just laying around.”

Alcina rolls her eyes and yanks the dusty sheet away, revealing the most beautiful baby crib you have ever seen. Polished solid dark oak frame with solid gold detailing wrapping around the bars like vines. The Dimitrescu House Crest is shining proudly on both sides.

A smug grin plastered itself on Alcina’s face knowing she single-handedly put an end to your snarky remarks.

“Holy shit,” you finally say. “And you had this in storage…just because?”

The question made her uncomfortable, you could tell. A shadow cast over Alcina’s face. “I had it made a while back and forgot about it until now. I’m glad it stayed in such pristine shape. Any polishes used on it were water-based and non-toxic. Perfect for a baby to slobber on,” she chuckles almost a bit uncomfortably.

Cris shook his head as he ran a hand across the smooth wooden framework. “I don’t know what to say, Alcina. It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

“Only the best for our favorite niece.”

Cris clapped his hands together and pulled out a few pieces of paper from his back pocket. "Now, onto Julianna's schedule. Lucia tried to be as helpful as possible when writing it down, but she said if you have any questions just ask her when we drop her Jules off."

Both of you nodded as he handed them to you. Bela situated herself on your bed with one of the plushies he brought over just because.

 Daily Routine

7 am- wake up and bottle feed 8 ounces for about 20 minutes (doesn't have to be one the dot if she's still sleeping. It's a rare occurrence for her to sleep in, but it could happen

7:30- playtime on the floor or outside (we usually keep her inside this early in the morning but either is perfectly suitable)

8:00- breakfast (something solid-ish. Like oatmeal and fruit chunks)

8:30- more play 

Between 9-9:30- bottle-feed 6 ounces for 15 minutes then naptime

11:00- wake up and play (she loves her building blocks and rattle)

Noon- lunch (baby food! Fruit or veggie) (she'll probably refuse solids but don't take no for an answer! Even just a few are ok if she's especially cranky)

12:30- play (peek-a-boo in the mirror! she gets a kick out of it every time. 

1:30- bottle-feed 6 ounces and nap (Congrats! you're halfway there)

3:30- wake up and play (try using the hand puppets and engage her in nursery rhymes)

4:00- bottle feed four ounces for roughly 20 minutes

5:00- dinner (more baby food. Whichever one she didn’t have for lunch)! Same as the morning, she'll probably refuse)

5:30-play (maybe go for a walk if you haven't already?)

6:30- bath time! (see added note for specific bathtime notes. She loves hearing her little rubber ducky squeak)

7:00- bottle-feed 8 ounces then time for bed (good luck trying to sleep and getting her to sleep)

1:30 am- bottle feed again (she’ll wake you up when she’s hungry don’t worry)

Breastmilk can be refrigerated for five days and I’ve given you more than enough to hold her over. Protect it with your lives! Breast Milk is liquid gold!

 You read the note over a couple of times before handing it to Alcina who looked just as overwhelmed as you. "That is so much."

"Not enough," Alcina says at the same time.

Cris laughs. "Wanna see what she wrote for bathtime?"

Alcina took the second not from him.

 Bathtime Tips

Make sure the adhesive mats are set down before bath time begins. One in the tub one outside

Make sure you have everything you need nearby; towel, washcloth, toys (especially her duck), shampoos, lotion, clean clothes, and a diaper

It’s easiest (and less painful) to sit on a stool or something instead of standing and bending over

ALWAYS KEEP A HAND ON HER!

Take off any jewelry and be sure to wash your hands

Check the water temp with the inside of your wrist- it should be warm (not too hot or too cold)

Dry and dress her on the floor (hence the second mat) 

Squirty toys! (The duck is her favorite as it also squeaks)

Plastic boats that she can push around

Whale-shaped basin for rinsing hair

Once she’s all dry she can go right in her crib

 "Sweet Satan, Cristofor. This is a lot of information. I mean, the more the better but..."

You take her hand in yours and kiss the top of her knuckles. "It's alright, Love, we've got this. If anyone can manage this it's us."

She nods but doesn't really believe your words. You can see the doubt reflecting in her eyes. "You're right."

"It looks way more complicated than it is, ladies. You just put her in the tub, don't let her drown, clean her, and take her out. Boom, simple as that."

Alcina lets out a relieving chuckle and you thank him silently.

 *******************************************************************************************

You lay awake that night unable to fall asleep. Alcina is awake too, but you don't dare speak to her. She's too lost in her own world to be bothered with your nonsense. But it was starting to eat you alive from the inside out. You looked over at it sitting across the room. Its existence is mocking you to the point where you can almost hear it laughing at you.

You finally break the silence. “Who’s even is it? You turned the girls when they were adults, right?”

“Yes.”

“All of them?”

You hear her sigh. “Yes of course all of them. Now please, I don’t want to talk about this.”

“But you had to have a reason, Al. No one just has a crib as intricate as that made out of the blue.”

“It doesn’t matter,” her tone grew sharper. “We have it now for Julianna and that’s what matters.”

“I guess so, but…” you turn your body to face her. Her silhouette is laying on her back staring up at the ceiling. “D-did you try having a baby with someone else and…”

She turns to look at you with wide golden eyes. Not angry, but certainly not expecting that line of questioning. You immediately regret opening your mouth.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-“ Alcina silences your ramblings with a searing kiss. One you happily return.

“It’s nothing like that, my love. My only children are ours. I had it made last year when Lucia first told us she was pregnant. I remember how excited you were for them. You did so much to help her get ready, for both of them, really.” Alcina smiled and reached blindly for your hand. “And every time they come up to visit your eyes just light up when you see Julianna. You’re so good with her, iubirea mea.”

A shadow of guilt passed over her face. “I overheard you talking to Lucia about wanting kids of your own.”

Your heart plummeted down to the pit of your stomach.

“You love our daughters with your entire heart, but it’s not the same as raising your own flesh and blood. Every time I saw you holding little Julianna or singing to her I pictured you with our baby. So, I got all excited and, albeit, ahead of myself and had the crib made.”

“For our baby,” you finished with a genuine smile.

Alcina nodded. “I wanted to wait for you to bring up the conversation before saying anything about it, and” her voice cracks. “You never did. I didn’t understand why at first. You would produce such a beautiful baby with or without me.” Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes threatening to cascade down her cheeks. “Then one night it just sort of hit me; why would you want to share something as precious and innocent as a baby with a monster like me?”

Tears flowed freely from her eyes and sobs racked her body, it broke your heart. Without thinking you throw yourself at Alcina and wrap her tightly in your arms. The vampire happily buries her face in the crook of your neck and cries her heart out. You thread your fingers through her hair to help soothe her.

“Oh, my love, I’m so sorry. Don’t you ever refer to yourself as a monster ever again, do you hear me? You are no monster, Alcina Dimitrescu. How can someone as loving, and soft, and generous like you be anything besides an angel?”

“Oh stop pretending, y/n. I’m a genetically mutated freak! The baby would take one look at me and start wailing,” Alcina let out a frustrated huff.

“Stop it, Alcina. Our baby would adore you just like Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela do. Julianna loves you to pieces! She gets so excited every time you walk in the room.”

Alcina sniffled. “She does that with everyone.”

“Because she likes us, Al.”

A beat of awkward silence passed between the two of you until you finally felt her breathing steady.

“You want to have a baby with me?”

You couldn’t contain your smile as she nodded ever so slightly into your neck. “Why didn’t you say anything before? We could have talked about it months ago. The only reason I never brought it up was that I assumed you didn’t want any more children running amuck in the castle. Imagine if they turned out to be just like Daniela.”

That got her to laugh a little. “I wouldn’t mind a baby running around; especially if they look like you.”

“Well I don’t know about that considering we would have to adopt.”

A mischievous smile crept on Alcina’s lips. “Who says we can’t have a baby ourselves?”

“Um, nature? We’re both women, Alcina. I don’t think I have to explain to you how that won’t work.”

Alcina chuckles into your neck. “We’d have quite the brood running around the castle if it did.”

“Then you want to find a donor?” She detached herself from you just enough to give you a look of disgust. “Of course not; no one is allowed to touch my y/n except me.” She flips you both over so you’re pinned underneath her. “There are ways we could have a baby, you know?”

A blush covered your cheeks down to your chest. “O-oh?”

“Mmhm. The old witch in the village could brew something up for us, should we choose to carry.” She laughs at your dumbfounded expression. “It would be a sex change tonic of sorts. Temporary of course, I believe it only lasts a week.”

You blush furiously.

“And depending on the portions of ingredients she uses we could change the erm, size, if you catch my drift.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, in real words at least. Something between a yelp and a whimper came out of your mouth instead. It gets a laugh out of Alcina at least.

“That’s really a thing we could do?”

She starts trailing kisses down your neck to your chest. “Oh yes,” her free hand comes up to pull your shirt down over your breasts. As soon as they pooled out of their confinement Alcina started circling one of your nipples with her tongue. “Would you like that, darling? To feel my cock pounding into you.”

Fuck you loved it when she talks dirty to you. But that turned you on more than you were willing to admit. You gave a shy nod.

Alcina rewards your honesty by taking your hardened nipple in her mouth and sucking. Her other hand moved up your body to rest on your other breast, gently kneading it like dough.

Alcina has always been fascinated with your breasts. Always burying her face in them when cuddling. She simply melted into them on bad days. Giving her a scalp massage at the same time earned you bonus points.

Her lips abandon your nipple, leaving a bridge of saliva still connecting you, and snuggled her face deep in between your breasts. She let out a long sigh and closed her eyes, letting herself get lost in the moment. Her eyes flutter open and you can see the corners of a smile buried in your chest. “What do you think, my love?”

“I think we should see how we do this weekend before making any big decisions.”

Alcina leaned forward only enough to kiss your lips. “Sounds like a plan.”

[i-am-infinite]

Guilt (Part 1): The Rescue

(Din Djarin x ForceSensitive!Fem!Reader)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Slight Chpt 12 and 13 spoilers. Read at your own risk.

Description: Moff Gideon has found someone else to run his experiments on and word gets back to Din. Will he take his son far away and try and find somewhere safe? Or will the guilt of an innocent being put in his son’s place eat away at him? (No Y/N or ___ used)

Word Count: Slightly over 4K

Warnings: Mentions of blood and needles. Broken glass. Fainting. Blood loss. Canon type violence. Possible bad writing (first fic pls go easy on me). If I’m missing anything please let me know, I’ve never done one of these before. 

A/N: This is my first fanfic I’ve written so it might be really bad but I couldn’t get the idea out of my head so here it is. I also made up a planet/system and don’t know if star wars has alarm clocks but i wrote it in anyway. I also wrote this in Word first and then realized I couldn’t copy it over so I tried my best to type it over in here. 

Normal. That is what was used to describe your life. Nothing out of the ordinary. Life wasn’t boring per se, but it definitely wasn’t compelling enough for your tastes. Studying to be a healer help keep it somewhat interesting but not enough. 

Bzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzz. Crust littered eyes creak open as your face unsticks from the textbook scattered across the desk. Bzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzz. Your stiff neck cracks as you finally sit up. Fell asleep studying again. You loved learning about healing, you really did. But the long nights and barely sleeping was enough to make your head explode. Looking over at the clock with bright red numbers blinking at you. 8:15. 

8:15! I’m late! You think as you force yourself awake. No not again! Being a student means you need to do hands on hours down at the nearest medcenter. All the late night studying also means that you oversleep most days. Grabbing your work bag filled with a change of clothes, in preparation of these events, you run out the door.

Your feet hit the wet cobble stones as it echos through your little part of the city. Vendors lining up the street ready to start their days. Passing the shop you went to yesterday, your mind too preoccupied to notice that it’s empty today. You know that theres is a faster route to the medcenter, but is it a path you really want to take today? Dark and windy path that you can barely see five feet in front of you on mornings like this. Too foggy and muggy for your liking. You’d rather stick to the main road where there’s people, where if anything were to happen, people would see, they would know. Regardless, it shaves fifteen minutes off your commute. You loathe having to be late for another shift. Making the sharp turn in between tow booths, you pace quickens to get through as quickly as you can. While not having much visibility, you swear you can see a pair of eyes in the dark. Has to just be my imagination, you convince yourself, I just need to keep going. It’ll be fine. 

Footsteps echo behind you. Hands grab your shoulders. A scream rises in your throat, but no sound comes out. Everything goes dark when you feel something hit the side of your head. 

.

Sigh. “Grogu get back in your seat.” The little baby waddles down off the controls and into his father’s lap. “Not what I meant,” Din grumbles with a smile hidden under his helmet. He grabs Grogu by his little robe and places him in the seat to his right and tells him to buckle up as a holo comes through from Greef Karga. 

“Mando, we’ve just got word that Moff Gideon might have been seen in the Braic system. It looks like they found a substitute for the baby for the time being. I would use this time to go find a hide-out and lay low. He could still come back for the little one. Be well,”

Din goes to start the ship and find coordinates to stay out of trouble for a while when he hears the baby whine. Looking back at his adoptive child, all Din can see is Grogu, then a nameless kid, lying unconscious on a metal table, trapped underneath a contraption. Din starts breathing heavy and feeling sick that he ever gave his son up to those Imps. All he can hear is the beeping of the machine he’s hooked up to. Anger boiling back to the surface as he hears himself yell at the doctor all over again in his memories. No, he tells himself, He’s here with me. He’s fine. He’s safe. He shakes himself out of it and goes to fly the Razor Crest off planet. 

Before he even gets off the planet, all Din can think about is that innocent person in his son’s place. They were going to kill Grogu, just for his blood for their experiments. Din can’t bring the kid anywhere near those people, he can’t risk losing his family, not when both of them have formed such attachments to each other. But he can’t stop thinking of this person who is in the that position now. He should’ve made sure Gideon was dead. Because of that now more people are going to get hurt. 

Without thinking he turns on his holo already asking, “Where is he taking them?”

. 

Feeling groggy with heavy eyes, you are able to open them just a bit to a blinding light. Reluctantly closing them again, you lift your arm to rub your eyes, but only they don’t move. What? The rest of your senses start coming back and you can feel the cool metal against your back, the same metal wrapped around your wrists and your ankles attached to the table. Finally bracing the light and opening your eyes, lifting your head slightly off the table and oh no the room is spinning now. There is an IV in your arm drawing your blood out into some odd machine, explaining the dizziness. Second time in two days you’ve had to deal with your own blood. 

Walking through the shops on your one day off, you pick up a flower hair pin. The glasswork is so intricate and entrancing, you can’t help but turn it over and over in your hands. A pearl bead sitting in the center of iridescent gray and white petals. Placing it back in its place, your had scrapes against another glass design that is not yet finished, slashing open your palm. “Oh, dear let me help you with that,” the lady running the stand says. She looks you with her white hair barely covering her forehead. Tattoos liter her arms. A design peaks your interest as you swear you know but can’t quite place. 

“It’s fine, I can take care of it myself,” you state already inspecting your hand. No shards in it so thats good. 

“Oh no I insist. It happened at my booth, let me help clean it,” she declares taking your hand in her own. It feels like she squeezes the wound causing you to wince in pain slightly. Knowing she should just be cleaning it and wrapping it, you’re a little confused. Maybe she just doesn’t know how to tend to these sort of things, not wanted to embarrass her at her stand, you keep quiet. She finally gets a clean rag to help blot away at the blood on your hand. You didn’t think anything of it at the time, but it appears she has put it in a bag to the side. 

“I don’t have any gauze to help wrap it up,” the stand lady says. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I have plenty of my own,” you mention, “It will be fine until I make it back to my place.” Smiling you walk away. Without looking, you can feel her move the piece you cut your hand on into the bag. Must just be because it’s a dangerous piece, you think, not knowing there’s still some of your blood on it too. 

Closing your eyes again, you try to wonder why that is so significant to you right now. It was a harmless thing in passing, so why is it at the forefront of your mind? You are strapped to a table and all you can think about is that little cut you got the day prior. If your head didn’t feel like it was a spinner top right now, you would have laughed. Opening your eyes again you see men all in white armor and helmets guarding the door to your room, while a man in a white coat is working on the machine where your IV is attached. I thought the empire was dead. The same symbol that keeps going through your mind is the same one sewn into the man’s white coat. Your breathing gets shallower as you feel the panic rise in your chest. I’m never getting out of here, you realize as your vision becomes black once again. 

. 

You’re losing a lot of blood. You know that. You can feel it when noise wakes you up and your eyelids feel like lead. All the noise is muffled, as if you’re underwater. Frankly it feels like you are. It would be so easy to let the waves of darkness just wash over you right now, to let the water take you under. No, you can’t give up the fight and drown into unconsciousness just yet. You force yourself to stay awake. 

Barely getting your eyes open, bright red lights flood your vision. You imagine you’re still in bed, or at least asleep at your desk, with the alarm clock blaring, not here with blaster fire. Wait, blaster fire? You attempt to turn your head to the side to look, or to dodge, you aren’t to sure in your current state. The fast action causes you to feel like you’re spinning, or it might be the room, either way your eyes can’t focus on what is going on. Closing your eyes again to make it stop, you hear voices surrounding you. They sound so far away at the moment but finally, after what feels like ages, one voice sounds clearer. 

“Please help us. Help us get out of here. Her m-counts aren’t nearly as high as the child’s. They’re demanding more blood. She’s already lost 2 liters, I don’t know how much longer she can last.”

Child? They wanted to do this to a child? You’d choke down a sob if you could just thinking of that poor baby. What did he even say about what-counts? What the hell are those? All these questions are making your head spin more and more. Taking most of your energy to open your eyes, you’re met with a chrome stormtrooper trying to unbind you. Wait no, not a stormtrooper. You’ve heard stories about him and his people. What were they called? For the life of you, you can’t remember right now. 

“You’re going to need help getting her out of here,” you realize that the man in the whit coat was the one who spoke before and is now pleading with the metal man, “Please Mandalorian take me with you and I’ll help you get her out of here.” 

That’s it. He’s a Mandalorian. He gets your wrists free as the doctor takes the IV out. Pushing off the table to sit up, the world starts spinning again. You don’t even realize you’re about to hit the table again until the Mandalorian grabs your shoulders to keep you semi-upright. You hear some sort of static come from his helmet. “Fine.” he grumbles, “help me get her out of this thing.” 

With a flip of a switch, the rest of your body is free from restraints. Eager to get out of there, you swing your legs over the edge of the table, hands finding the arms of the Mandalorian with his hands still on your shoulders. Nauseous and woozy, you try to use the cold metal of his pauldron to ground yourself, to get the room to stop spinning. He can see you start to sway and wraps his arms around your waist as he lowers you from the table. Your feet hit the floor and black dots start to cloud your vision. Blood pounding in your ears trying to tell you to stop and lie back down. Muffled voices come from beside you again as you feel another arm wrap around you from the other side. Your feet dragging against the floor as both men on either side of you go towards the door. 

You feel the heavily armored man to your left let go. Eyes that are still fuzzy and unfocused sort of see him peak out the door with his blaster drawn. He leaves the room and all that can be heard is the pew pew pew of blaster fire. Vision start to come back the tiniest bit, you can see him standing in the door way waving his hand as to say Come on. 

The three of you hurry as fast as you can down the corridor to get to an exit. Lots of twists and turns, just for you all to come up at a dead end. So much for rescuing, you think to yourself as the doctor still holding you up, leans you up against a pillar as the two of them survey the situation. More of the Mandalorian assessing the situation and the doctor just frantically pacing back and forth. 

Sitting down now that the adrenaline of being kidnapped and “rescued” die down, you feel your breathing getting shallower and harder to breath. Eyelids getting heavy again. You just want to lay down and go to sleep, hoping that will fix things. Starting your descent from your upright position to close your eyes, two hands grab your shoulders and jerk you up. It takes a second to realize this modulated voice was talking you you. “Hey, you got to stay with me now,” he pleads, one hand going to the side of your face. Pain spreads across your features due to being struck there earlier, a bruise starting to form in its place. Pulling his hand away like seeing the your face contorted burned him, he continues, “I’m going to get you out of here, you just have to stay awake.” You open your mouth to speak, but your throat feels like it’s filled with sand from Tattooine, so you just weakly nod your head yes. “Okay good,” the shiny man says after letting out a deep breath. 

Still holding your shoulders, he helps you stand up and tells the doctor to take you and go further down the hall. Taking something small and circular out of his belt and placing it on the far wall, he speed walks back toward you two. It starts blinking red as his arms come and cage both of you in. Peeking over his shoulder, you see the wall disappear. Well explode, but one second ago it was there and now it’s not. When the explosion first rings in your ears, you reflexively reach out for the Mandalorian’s arm and feel him tense under your touch. 

When he deems it safe to move again, letting go of his arm, he hops over the rubble to the outside world, blaster drawn. Looking out you think it looks like a desert, but one you’ve never seen before. You have no idea where you are, even what planet you are on. You eyes go to where the chrome man is stalking towards. It seems he found two speeder bikes that the troopers use, sans the troopers. Your feet hit the gravel and you realize you aren’t wearing shoes anymore. How long was I out? You begin to question when you see a stormtrooper take aim at your rescuer. Right when he pulls the trigger, you reach your hand out and scream, “NO!” 

You could’ve sworn it was going to hit him. It should’ve hit him. But at the last second it bent and went in another direction. You knew stormtroopers were bad shots, but nothing like that has ever happened. The Mandalorian whips around at your scream and shoots the trooper down. He goes back to what he originally planned to do, but not without turning to you. You see his chest plate heave up and down a few times before turning back around. After a beat, the only sound you can hear is the Mandalorian starting up the speeders and your heartbeat pounding in your ears. The doctor helps guide you to the bikes and as you’re about to get on behind him, the Mandalorian picks you up bridal style and sits on his own respective bike. You make a noise of discontent at the sudden action and are then seated in front of him, yet again caged in by his arms with your legs draped over one of his. You can hear him breathing through the modulator as he states, “Just in case you pass out again. Can’t have you falling off the back of the bike.” You go to adjust how you are sitting when he takes off. 

Gasping in shock, you hug your arms around his neck with you head in his cowl as you take panicked breaths. His hand touches your back as you hear him shout over the noise of the engines, “Put your legs around me, you’re slipping off.” He holds your waist as you sling your right leg around and hook it with your left one behind his back. Not the position you thought you’d end up in as a blush creeps up on your face, but neither the less here you are. His hand lets go of your waist and back to the handlebars as he steers. 

Suddenly getting the feeling like you’re being followed, you say into his neck cowl, “Go left!” You don’t know why, but you just get a gut feeling to go that way. He follows your lead, not without a brief hesitation. The doctor follows on his speeder in the same direction. Finally looking up you see two stormtroopers in the distance. I wish their speeders would just stop or something, you plead with yourself and you think back to what happened with the blaster. Testing the waters, you unhook one of your hands from Mando’s neck and hold it out and... nothing. Okay focus, you close your eyes and picture their speeders stopping, or malfunctioning, or anything at this point. 

The sound of a crash comes ringing into your ears. Opening your eyes, you can see the troopers flip over their handlebars as if their engines just died. You slightly chuckle to yourself as your eyelids feel heavy again. You try to get them to stay open, but sleep just feels so much better at the moment. And with that, you’re out like a light. 

. 

Din feels you go limp against him. His arm once again going to grab you by your waist to keep you in place. He wills his speeder to go faster, to get back to the Razor Crest sooner as he’s panicking thinking he somehow made the situation worse. He exposed you on the bike by having you sit like this. Your arms, legs, and head were all exposed to possible blaster fire. Have you been hit? He heard a crash but couldn’t look back without moving you more, risking leaving you more unprotected. His blame for himself spirals as his grip on you grows tighter. He can’t explain why he’s so distraught over a stranger, but still every time he blinks, he swears he sees back on that table. The next time he swears he sees his son on that very table again. First he gave the kid up to those people, now he didn’t finish Gideon off and let you, an innocent stranger who he is now clutching onto for dear life, get in the crossfire. Too many people have gotten hurt because of this. Because of him. He needs to make it right. 

Finally Din and Dr. Pershing arrive at the Razor Crest where Din is already lowering the hatch and carrying you in. Kicking some crates together, he gently lowers you down onto this makeshift bed. He uses his thermal setting to see your body temperature, to see how you are recovering from the blood loss. He isn’t thrilled to see it still low, you were getting your energy back slowly before, along with more body heat, bit not enough to Din’s liking. Turning his helmet to Pershing, the doctor says, “She’s going to need more blood.” Din, already standing ready to run out and get some, not even knowing where or how to do  that, is stopped by Pershing telling him that he’ll go get it, that it would look less suspicious. Agreeing, Din sits by your side while using his comm-link to tell Greef that he could bring Grogu back to the ship. How Din always finds someone to babysit still surprises him. 

. 

You wake up with a start. Eyes not yet adjusted to the lights overhead. Looking down you can see an IV in your arm again. Now towards the side, you can see the same doctor from before asleep up against a wall. Please tell me it wasn’t a dream, tears well up in your eyes as you think you’ve made the whole thing up to cope. It wasn’t until you felt your hand come to wipe away your watery eyes that you realized it just might not be a dream. The IV isn’t taking blood this time, it’s giving it. 

Finally looking around, you realize you’re on a ship that feels like it’s moving. Confused by this, you try and sit up. Not nearly as dizzy as before, you slowly swing your legs off the wooden crates you’re lying on. Noticing your still barefoot as a chill gets sent up to your spine by the cold metal floor, you grab your IV bag off what appears to be just a hook poorly attached to the ceiling. You venture around the small area of the ship, noticing there isn’t a lot besides these boxes and what appears to be two storage type of units. You don’t even tempt to look in, too intrusive. You do however see a ladder going higher up on the ship. Taking the IV out and ripping a piece of your shirt off to wrap around your arm for pressure, so you can use both hands to climb, you start your ascent up. 

Once you finally reach the top, you hear cooing? Didn’t that doctor say something about a child earlier? Looking forward into the cockpit, you see your savior flying while looking to his right at one of the co-pilot chairs. Clearing your throat to get his attention, two little eyes peer at you from the seat. A bright smile appears on this little green things face and you can’t help but stifle a laugh because its ears are the size of his body. 

Distracted by this cute baby, you don’t notice the way the Mandalorian swivels his chair to face you. Finally looking at the man who saved you today, your breath hitches. You don’t know how to thank him for what he did, so you sort of just stand and stare for a second. He stands up and lightly grabs your arm with your homemade bandage on it. Tilting his helmet to the side you hear static coming from it. Did he just sigh at you? “You were supposed to keep it in your arm,” he finally states, with a tinge of annoyance. 

Eyes not wanting to meet the T of his visor, you direct your gaze to the ground. “ I jus- I-,” you stammer, not able to find the right words. “Thank you.” It comes out more hushed than you’d like, but he still hears you. He just gives you a slight nod before releasing his arm and heading back to his seat. All your muscles turn to stone as you stand there not knowing if you should leave or not, until he cocks his head towards the seat to his left. On shaky legs you find your way to the seat. Before even sitting down fully, the little green child is already trying to get into your lap. Giggling to yourself you let him up onto your lap. 

Once you do the strangest thing happens. You can feel what he’s thinking, his emotions, his past. How he was trained with the special abilities, much like the ones you just displayed before. How he was scared and in hiding until the man sitting in front of you found him. How he thinks of him as a father, his dad. Your chest tightens at that one. Still confused as to why the same people who wanted this child, Grogu, for his powers, also wanted you, you pull him to your chest to comfort you both. You finally speak up again and ask, “Did they want me because I might have the same abilities as this one?” You meant it to sound strong, but it just came out sounding weak. 

Without looking at you, the Mandalorian replies shortly after a pause, “Yes.” You swore you can see his grip tighten on the ships steering as he says that. Turning to the two of you finally, he says in the sincerest voice you’ve heard out of him, “They wont get to either of you again. I can promise you that.” Your chest swells at this statement and Grogu looks up at you with a smile as if he felt the way your heart fluttered. You wish you were the one wearing the helmet right now because you can feel your cheeks heat up. To ease the situation in the best way you can, awkwardly, you clear your throat before asking, “So where are we headed now?”

Swiveling back in his chair to hit a few buttons, you’re confused not knowing what they are supposed to do until he pulls up a map and points a place out. He tells you that he’s going to drop off Dr. Pershing at one of the squiggles you see and then try and figure it out from there. “So, I guess thats where I get off too?” You meant it to come out more as a statement than a question, but after what you just went through, you’d rather not be left to fend for youself. 

“If that’s what you want,” he finally utters after a while. “ But they’re not going to stop coming after you. Either of you. It might be safer for you to stay here with me, us.” The last part comes out so quiet, it’s almost as if he didn’t want you to hear, out of fear of your response. 

Trying to not answer too quickly, you take a deep breath and finally say, “Yes. I’d like that a lot.” With a curt nod, he turns back around. Warmth fills your chest yet again at this stranger’s kindness. It’s just because I have the same abilities as his child, you try to convince yourself. But deep down you’re hoping it’s more than that. The child in your lap grips your fingers tightly and coos, as if he’s trying to tell you your hopes might not be too far off. 

Oh, it’s going to be an interesting adventure with these two, you smile to yourself. 

[the-silentium]

Murphy day Pt. 2

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 3 - Part 4

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 3161 words

Warnings: Curses.

A/N:  Yes, I put some ARK:Survival evolved creatures in this, so I do not own their concept. They are just so cute! Also I’m not as good at worldbuilding as @shadow-hyder .

Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

"So you guys are Commandos?" You asked as Hunter moved aside the colorful plant blocking your way, his steps following yours closely. 

For the last 10 minutes, you've managed to make good progress in your quest to reach the clones' ship. So deep into the jungle, the prank traps were nonexistent, making it easier for the group to venture without a hitch although it also meant that you were out of the village's defence system. 

Wrecker had been chattering with you for the most part, explaining that they weren't regular clones when you pointed out that referring to them as 'clones' was basically going against the definition of the word as they all looked completely different from one another. 

Unbeknownst to you, a certain bad batcher started to think that you may not be as annoying as he initially thought, your comment about the fact that their mutations made them the best version of their kind was running through his mind. 

The jungle is in constant evolution! Only the bests survive and to do that, they need to mutate! It's the same with you guys. Your mutations make you even more adapted to survive and do your job. That's impressive.

"We are!" You could tell Wrecker was immensely proud of being an elite special team, his enthusiasm made his voice even louder. 

You'd hoped that Wrecker's voice mixed with Tech's repulsive odor would keep the nasty fangs away. Unfortunately, bad luck decided to show its face again.

A branch snapped behind you catching your attention, prompting you to stop dead in your tracks and turn around at the same moment Hunter did. He didn't even have to lift his hand, his troop immediately turned like one man while lifting their blasters towards the moving and cracking flora, their feet firmly planted on the ground, ready to engage whatever there was lurking around. 

The animal was clearly making its way into your direction, its form moved the plants around to form a clear path towards your group. 

The utter silence was nerve wracking. The birds had stopped chirping a while back, when Wrecker had exploded in laughter at one of your joke, the jerboas were definitely keeping themselves at bay along with every non-lethal creature around. 

Crouching very slowly, you reached for your knife, the warm wood connecting with your fingertips relaxed your stress just a little. 

A sigh of relief left your lips when a familiar bleating sound reached your ears. Releasing your knife, you pushed past the rest of the group to search the tall grass for the small herbivore. 

"It's fine." You breathed, your eyes falling on the excited baby, its cute face almost making you aww.  "'s just a Shinehorn." You crouched to carefully take the small light-brown goat in your arms, its tail wagging quickly in excitement. 

The troopers dropped their weapons, all their helmets now focussed on the wiggling animal in your arms. Slowly, you put it back down before giving him more pets under its chin. 

The Shinehorn was still very young, the top of his head reaching just below your knees and his tiny green horns flashing lowly in his excitement. You traced the two green lines marking its back with your fingers, the squeaks you received in response making you giggle. 

"What's a Shinehorn?" Tech asked, crouching next to you to be closer and scan the baby with his helmet. 

"They are small herbivorous animal. Their horns can glow in the dark! Very useful when we have to do night hunts or anything in the dark." You grabbed some berries from a bush nearby, feeding them to him. "They're also very docile." 

With a last pet between its green horns, you got up and let your place to Wrecker who clearly wanted to gush over the newfound ball of cuteness. 

Out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed Crosshair, his hand still firmly wrapped around his rifle like the little goat would pound on him or something. 

“Oh! I just thought about that, I know you’re probably very experienced with your blasters seeing as you're all the cream of the clones, but could you not have them in your hands?” You lifted your hands in the air in surrender at Crosshair’s constipated expression. “Just sayin’! Been there, done that, ya know!”

"You accidently shot someone?" Hunter turned his attention from the intriguing creature to you. 

"Not me. But before the laws strictly prohibed people to go out on Murphy day, it was common occurrence." 

All you received was a grunt of aknowledgement, before Hunter called his team back and started walking again. 

To your amusement, the little Shinehorn followed your steps, happily jumping around but never getting in anyones' way. From time to time, you'd grab nearby berries from tall trees to feed him in hope that he'd take a permanent liking to you so you could maybe take him with you on your way back home. 

For the seventh time that morning, Tech tripped on his feet, muttering words in a foreign language that you were sure were curses. It was almost normal now. The small clone would fall on the ground, curse, get up and continue for the cycle to restart a couple of minutes later. You didn't think any of it, having stopped turning around in concern at the 4th time. He had his armor to protect him after all. 

Although, this time you should have turned around. You would have seen that in his fall, Tech tripped Wrecker who was now losing his balance.

A clash of armor hitting armor mixed with the very sudden movement right beside you made you yelp in surprise. Hunter grunted, out of breath and confused, under Wrecker's imposing form. 

Chuckles flew off your mouth, too quickly for you to keep them in, as the bigger clone moved off its C.O. 

"Maybe we could take a break." You proposed, hand digging into your pocket to retrieve your tap. 

"Wouldn't hurt." 

At Hunter's approval you swiftly grabbed your knife, found the nearest bigger tree and tapped it to access the sugary water within the core of the tree. As the water started to drop down the tap, you moved yourself in front of the flow and opened your mouth to drink, calming down your thirsty driven mind. 

Once you were satisfied, you moved aside to let the others access the water. 

"Help yourselves." You motioned toward the dripping tap before sitting next to Crosshair who was picking fruits in a small tree, his helmet on the jungle floor. 

Wrecker was the first to taste the water, his face enlightening the whole jungle with his delighted smile. 

"It's sweet!" He stated to your amusement. He seemed more and more like a child. 

"Yeah. All the drinkable water here is sweet. If it doesn't have a taste, you should spit it out, 'cause it means that it's full of bacterias." 

You stretched your legs to be more comfortable, your hands behind you supporting your body. You petted absentmindedly the young Shinehorn, enjoying the humid wind caressing your face. 

Everyone had their chance to drink, the last one being Crosshair who removed the tap from the tree before throwing the object back at you at your demand. 

The goat approached Crosshair's pile of fruit, clearly interested into eating them, when he was gently denied access by a hand. 

"Not for you Shiny." The sniper muttered, protecting his precious. 

Nice name.

"Pass me some, Crosshair?" Tech asked his brother from his spot before you, helmet now at his side. 

Without a word, you saw a fruit being thrown into Tech's hands. The precision of the shot was flawless and it would have impressed you to no end if your eyes hadn't caught the color of the fruit that Tech was bringing to his mouth. 

"Don't eat that!" You yelled, pushing you forward to slap the pink fruit out of the clone's hand. "Those are the bad ones." You said, ignoring his yelp of pain at your slap.

"But they smell sweet like the water in the tree." 

"Yeah because the tree wants you to eat them instead of the good stuff. It's a defence system." You picked the fruit and threw it away. 

"The ones that smell not so good," You said, picking up a grey similar fruit. "are the good ones. Taste sweet and won't make you puke your guts for hours. There ya go." You passed the fruit to Tech whose gaze was fixed onto something behind you. 

You turned, confused about Tech's worried expression. Realisation hit you like a train, Crosshair didn't have to tell you that he fucked up, his white face along with the almost completely eaten pink fruit in his hand were telling you enough. 

"Kriff. Are you feeling nauseous yet?" You genuinely asked, no sarcasm or malice in your voice. You knew what pain he'd be in, having learned your lesson the hard way, just like him. 

You'd passed a whole day puking like there was no end, bruising your abdominal muscles in the constant effort they had to muster so you could evacuate the content of your stomach, hurting from the biliary acid burning your throat, fighting against the fatigue, dehydration and starvation. 

"Yes." You heard his breathing accelerating and knew what was coming. 

A shiver ran up your spine when he quickly turned around to empty his stomach on the jungle floor. You wanted to help him but knew he'd probably take it badly, so you let his brothers do their thing while you walked a bit away, searching for a specific plant. 

At the moment, you quickly forgot that at the beginning of the trip he had told you to shut up, that he had it coming. You were too empathetic for your good. Once again. 

"I'll be back." You told Hunter before venturing away with Shiny. 

"Please be close, please be close, please-" Searching around, you moved the grass around, peaking at the flowers for yellow petals with purple edges. Shiny whined at your side, nudging you a bit to get your attention, but you chose to ignore the needy baby to continue your flower hunt. 

A bit farther away, yellow petals caught your attention, your legs moving forward to get to them in seconds. With a victory hum, you crouched to pull the base of the flower, exposing its tortuous roots. 

You got up at the same time a low growl reached your ears, freezing you on the spot. Eyes scanned your right frantically for the source of the sound, a pair of sparkling dark hues staring back at you with hunger. Your blood ran cold into your veins, the imposing Dire bear was a good feet taller than you, surely reaching Wrecker's height. 

You clutched the root into your left hand, your right hitching to grab your knife at your ankle. In a very slow movement, you lifted your foot to allow your hand to grab the wooden handle. You almost succeeded when Hunter chose this moment to come looking for you, yelling your name into the trees. 

The Dire bear got scared and ran for you in a roar and you knew you were dead. You couldn't possibly outrun it and had no way to fight it. But you had to try, right? Run, I mean. 

So you ran, the most primal part of your brain taking control and ordered your legs to move as fast as possible towards the armed clones. 

You hadn't ventured too far and Hunter had followed your trail, so your wide terrified eyes met his, the Dire bear almost on you to bite on your neck. In last resort, you put all your faith in the sergeant's quick thinking, diving to the ground, screaming at him to shoot. 

You crashed unceremoniously on your chest, missing the sound of blasters opening fire. An incredibly heavy weight fell on you, pressing your whole body into the dirt, trapping your joined hands under your abdomen. The shock emptied your lungs of air, your mouth and nose were full of furr and dirt, making you panic. 

You desperately tried to push the weight away, take a deep breath of air and scream, but you couldn't do anything. You were trapped. You'd asphyxiate and die. All this because you couldn't control your stupid curiosity. Curiosity killed the tooka. 

You felt tears form in your eyes at the thought, for you were not ready to die. There was so much you still wanted to do. 

Suddenly, the weight disappeared from your back and you were harshly pulled away and rolled onto your back. Your crying wide eyes met the sergeant's, your lungs taking in the biggest inhalations they ever let in, before a wobbly smile stretched your lips. 

"F-found t-the cu-re." You managed to get out in broken words. Your hands opened slowly, showing the brown roots hidden between your fingers. 

Hunter sighed, relieved that you were alright despite crossing path with death. You were lucky he decided to follow the Shinehorn when it started acting up.  

"Are you okay Y/N?" Wrecker's head appeared beside Hunter's, searching your body for wounds. "You're crying." 

Arms slipped under your back and knees, lifting you without a problem. Your hands immediately closed around the root, gripping them tightly like they were life itself. 

" 'm not dead so I'm good." Your head fell onto Hunter's shoulder, you found comfort into the hard uncomfortable piece of armor. You were alive to feel it. "Thank you." 

He looked at you for a couple of seconds and you tried to control the heat assaulting your cheeks by taking deep breaths in. You definitely weren't admiring his tattoo from up close. 

"Didn't do it for you. I had to save the plant." He answered, sarcasm lacing his words. 

You chuckled, closing your eyes for a second. You felt all your energy leaving your body, the adrenalin that powered you moments ago dissipated and let exhaustion consume you. 

"Is she alright?" Tech asked, as another retching sound echoed around. 

"You tell me. Scan her." 

It took a couple of seconds, but you managed to open your eyes to see Tech with his helmet on, the thin screen that was previously up was now right before his eyes. He had a tool in hand, blue rays emanating from its extremity to scan your body. 

"No broken bones or internal injury. She's fine." He lifted the screen back up to get a better view of your state. 

"Can you stand?" Hunter asked.

"Almost sure I can." 

So Hunter lowered your feet to the ground, his hand lifting near your shoulder in case you fell. Your legs were still a bit wobbly, but you stood up, trying to ground yourself at the best of your ability. 

You opened your numb fingers, giving the root to Tech who looked at it with a frown on his face. 

"Break a small piece, remove the skin and give it to Crosshair. It'll help with the nausea and muscle pain." You told him, proud that your voice didn't break. 

"A piece like this?" He broke a piece and showed it to you, not wanting to give too much. They had learned that they should ask you first before eating something. 

"Yeah. Keep the rest for later." 

Nodding, Tech took the vibroknife in Hunter's hand to peel the root, placed the rest of it in his bag, before walking to his grey-haired brother. He tripped once, but managed to stay on his feet. 

You sit on the ground to relieve your legs for a bit, at least until Crosshair was able to walk without puking every 30 seconds. You were sure he'd be as wobbly on his feet as you for a totally different reason. Definitely not ideal for a field trip in the wild jungle. 

It took a good 10 minutes for Crosshair's stomach to settle, his retching stopped, letting him to deal with a slight nausea. With your tap, Hunter managed to get water to Crosshair and yourself before everyone packed up and prepared to go again. Shiny had returned after some time, the poor baby stopped running around and stayed closer to the group. 

"We're almost there." Tech announced at some point and you were grateful. Your legs were ready to abandon you for a while now, although you pushed through to not burden anyone with your adrenalin-less exhaustion. 

"The ship is just after these trees." 

One feet before the other. You repeated to yourself. At this point, all of your concentration was on your feet, you let the environment to Hunter and his apparently enhanced senses. Right, left, right, lef- 

You bumped into Crosshair who had gained energy during the walk while you had the opposed effect. You waited for the harsh comment to come, but it never did. 

"Where's the ship Tech?" Wrecker asked, confused. 

"That's not possible! This isn't the same place! The coordinates are wrong!" He started to panic.

You dropped on your knees beside Crosshair, the open clearing without a ship was the last tol. 

"Describe it to me. " You muttered. 

"What?" The sniper asked, his glare finding your exhausted face. 

"Describe it to me. The place where you left your ship." You concentrated yourself on your breathing, noticing how you started to inhale too quickly. 

"There was a field of glowing purple flowers and a stream with a big rock on one side. There was a gigantic tree too. Way bigger than the rest." He remembered. 

You sighed, tried to get back up with your shaky hands only to be helped by the sniper who pulled you by the pit of your arm. You smiled at him in thanks.

"That's the Waytree." You pointed on your left. "20 minutes of walk in this direction." 

"But that's such a great gap between my coordinates and-" Tech stopped as soon as he met your tired eyes, reading perfectly what you were telling yourself. "It's today." 

"Exactly." You huffed, forcing your legs to start walking again. 

Hunter watched you intensely but you pushed forward, forcing your body to obey you and not fail. All it took was one word from Hunter and a movement of his head toward you. 

"Wrecker." 

Suddenly, you found yourself bridal style in his arms and were carried for the rest of the trip despite you affirming that you were fine and that you were perfectly able to walk by yourself. 

From your position, you had a perfect view of the sky, worrying you to no end.

"No pressure but I'm sure it'll soon start to ra-" A drop of water hit Wrecker's helmet right before your eyes. "Awesome." You sighed. 

[forever-rogue]

hello ☺️, idk if ur accepting requests but i world really like to read about y/n being injured and hidding it because Din can be very overprotective, but he discovers it and shows reader his concern about she being in danger, and reveals his feelings.

I made this a little soft and funny, but I hope you enjoy 🥰🥺

The Mandalorian Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Remember," you grinned at your small son, laughing as he cooed and babbled at you. You set him down in his small pram, and started to pull the soft blankets around his little form. His large inky eyes were starting to flutter closed, and you could tell he was fighting sleep with every fiber of his little being. You couldn't help but laugh as you leaned down and pressed a few kisses to his forehead, "your papa will be home soon, sweet little love. But you need to rest. You'll see him in the morning."

He must have sensed, somehow known that Din was coming back this evening because he had been running around excitedly all day. You were just as happy of course, but unlike the small child, you contained your giddiness and spent the day making sure the Crest was clean and everything perfect for his return. He'd been gone for several days, off chasing another bounty and insisted that you stay back, that it was too dangerous. You'd been annoyed and tried to fight him, but he wasn't having it. He'd reminded you as well that someone would need to look after the petal eared womp rat, and you couldn't argue with him on that point. You'd put yourself in harm's way much sooner than you'd let anything ever happened to him.

Before you could say wish the little one a good evening, he reached for your arm, his little fingers finding the bandages that were currently covering your left arm. You winced slightly at the feelings more out of surprise than pain, quickly pulling out of his touch.

"It'll be okay," you promised him, making sure he was probably tucked and settled. A yawn finally win over and and laid back, seeming to relax more after hearing your words of reassurance, "tomorrow morning will come soon and everything will perfect. Just rest now, my love."

You stayed with him for a minutes, humming lightly under your breath as you rocked his little pram, hoping to send him further into his little dream world. Only when a few tiny snores met yours ears did you stand up and stretch, letting out a long yawn of your own. Switching off the light, you tiptoed out of the room and headed to the kitchen, deciding to make some caf so you didn't fall asleep. You knew Din wouldn't care if you were rest or catching up on some much needed sleep when he arrived, you wanted to be up, you wanted to welcome him home.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Sitting at the small kitchen table, you leaned back in your chair, a million thoughts swirling around in your mind as that drank the warm, sweet brew. At one point you'd realized your sleeve had fallen back and the bandages on your arm were clearly evident. Sighing, you slid your sleeve back down, making sure everything was hidden. You'd used bacta spray and patches on the wound you had acquired, but it hadn't been enough; the injury was still clinging on. You also didn't want Din to see; he'd just worry and that meant you might be felt behind even more often. Besides all of that, you really didn't want to admit how you'd actually gotten the injury. It was silly, foolish even, and you just cringed at the memory-

"Cyare?" Din's warm voice interrupted your thoughts and you almost dropped your cup in surprise. He'd been so quiet, and had almost managed to scare you. He couldn't help but chuckle lightly at your reaction, as you settled down and clutched dramatically at your heart, "I didn't mean to scare you. I called but you didn't answer."

"Din," you almost jumped to your feet, feeling a warmth creep up into your cheeks at the sight of the armored Mandalorian. The back T of his visor was practically burning a hole into you, "I just...got lost in my thoughts."

"Credit for your thoughts?" he asked as you stood up and went over to grab some more caf. You skirted by him, feeling nervous for some reason. He seemed to notice that something was off, as he turned and watched you.

There had been about a hundred million times that you'd considered telling him how you felt. That you liked him more than just a friend or a partner. But you always fell short, the words becoming lost as he would intently wait for you to day something.

"It's nothing," you promised, but the Mandalorian was smarter than that. When he remained silent, gaze still trained upon you, you sighed heavily. Deciding to change the subject you quickly thought of a new question, "what does Cyare mean? You've always called me that but never told me just what it means..."

“It’s just a nickname,” he insisted, his voice cracking slightly as he finally looked away from you. You were suspicious, not quite believing his answer. You leaned against the counter, making a noncommittal sound as you drank the remainder of your caf. You weren’t going to push him, despite the fact that you wanted to know. A silence hung over the two of you for moment as he slowly started to take off his beskar, in an attempt to get more comfortable.

But just as you raised the cup to your lips to take another sip, Din’s head snapped in your direction and he was standing in front of you in a flash.

“What is this?” there was a note of panic in his voice as he gingerly grabbed your bandaged wrist. Your eyes widened as you realized you had been careless and completely forgotten about covering your arm up. His breathing was stunted as he took your hand and pushed your sleeve up to your elbow. A small, choked modulated sound met your ears, “Cyare-”

“Din,” you set the cup down and tried to pry your wrist out of his grasp, but he refused to let go, “it’s fine...it’s nothing.”

“This doesn’t look like nothing,” he said as he touched over the white wrapping, attempting to see what it was had happened, “were you hurt? Did someone do this to you? I know I shouldn’t have left you alone. This is all my fault-”

“Din, it’s nothing. Really, I did-”

“I’m not leaving you by yourself ever again,” he promised, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, “imagine if something else had happened. I can’t lose...I don’t know what I’d do without you...”

“Din,” you repeated his name firmly, “it’s nothing. I...did to myself.”

“Kriff,” he sighed, “what happened?”

“I-I...don’t laugh,” you almost pleaded with him, giving him a sheepish grin, “I was...cleaning the weapons rack and the kid and I were playing and I had the flamethrower thingie and then one thing led to another and I burned myself...”

“Are you...” he trailed off and slowly peeled back the bandages, and you let him. You waited for him to yell, to tell you off, something. But instead his actions were tender and when he saw the burns on your arm, a small hiss escaped his lips, “oh my. You really did this to yourself?”

“I told you it was stupid...”

“While you were messing about?”

“I never claimed to be a smart woman...”

“Does it hurt?”

“Not much anymore.”

“Cyare,” he paused, taking off his gloves and gently tracing his fingers over the unharmed part of your arm. There was a shift in the air as something changed, something you could both feel.

“I’m sorry, Din, please don’t be mad,” you pouted at him and he just shook his head, a strangled laugh escaping his lips, “the baby’s fine...”

“I’m not mad,” he promised, “I was worried. I want you both fine. Always. I don’t know if I could...if I could ever manage to go on without you or if something ever happened to you.”

“Din-”

“Cyare,” he said suddenly, a bit of shake to his face, “it means beloved. It’s not just a nickname...I call you that because....well...”

“Oh,” you said as a flush of warmth rushed over you and you slowly put two and two together, “oh...”

“I’m sorry if that’s too forward, too much-”

“Can I...call you Cyare too then?” you asked softly and he lifted his gaze to meet yours. Even though you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew they were glued to you, “I’ve....I’ve felt that way about you for a long time too, Din.”

“Yeah?” he asked incredulously, his hands finding the side of your face as he touched your ever so gently. You nodded, and a small sigh came from under the helmet, almost like a sound of relief, “may I...may I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you nodded as he dropped his hands from your face and slowly went to reach for his helmet. Your breath hitched in your throat as you knew what was coming, a burst of butterflies in your stomach, “please.”

“Cyare...” he said gently as he set the helmet down and you found yourself grinning not at your Mandalorian, but  at your Din. You wanted to cry at the sight; it was better than you could have ever imagined, “you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

But before you could even try and guess how long, he kissed you. And then he kissed you some more. And then more - just like you how had been wanting to go for so long.

[vercopaanir]

One Day

The Lovely Moons, Chapter 26

Masterlist

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Blind!Reader

Summary: After leaving Nevarro, the covert, and the two additions to your clan behind, the Mandalorian sets out on acquiring the bounty that will free the child from Imperial hands. The coordinates and tracking fob take you to an icy planet, and the bounty proves not to be the most dangerous part of the hunt.

Rating/Warnings: T, brief sexual themes

Words: 5.6k

Notes: Thank you all so much for allowing me space and time during a pretty stressful and emotional period. I really appreciate it. While it’s not over by any means, your continued encouragement and support means the world to me, and I’m so happy to give back to you with this story. I hope it continues to make you happy!

AO3

A leather gloved hand touches the back of your neck, and you flinch so violently that you knock a holopad off the shopkeeper’s counter. Din yanks his hand back as if he’s been burned, growing still at your reaction. Your face crumples when you realize you have once again floated away from the present, tangled in dreams that won’t leave while you wake and grief that won’t be shaken. You apologize profusely to the clearly annoyed vendor, kneeling down to gather the holopad and return it to its place on the counter that boasts the finest leathers and fabrics in the weapons shop. You don’t even remember what drew your interest over in the first place.

“Cyare?”

You turn, feeling forlorn and dejected to face the armored man who holds a securely wrapped infant in one arm, his other hand hanging low near his holstered blaster. You blink up into the dark glass of his visor, a small sigh leaving you. He handled you as if you were made of glass, of porcelain, and you feel like he might be right.

“Would you like to sit while I finish here?” he asks, his voice so soft it’s hardly louder than a rasp.

You nod meekly, taking the baby when he passes the child into your arms, and one hand touches your back to lead you to a small bench in the corner of the store. He hovers while you get comfortable, shifting the child so he is tucked beneath your cloak. Having few clothes to begin with, and fewer still after your favorite dress was torn on Canto Bight, Din had bought you new clothing. A thick, fur lined cloak that is almost too heavy graces your shoulders, but it is so delightfully warm and soft you loathe to take it off even indoors.

He watches you for a moment while you pull the cloak firmer around your shoulders before nodding hesitantly down toward you. He only turns when you try your best to smile, making his way back to finish his bargain for ammunition.

You had left Nevarro two days ago, stealing away in the hours before dawn when the world slept on and time moved like sap down the bumpy bark of a tree. You had been so exhausted, so heavy in your heart that Din had to pry you away from the mumbling, sleeping children when you had whispered your goodbyes. Corde had been excited for your adventure, as she called it, wanting to hear everything upon your return. Venka had hugged you until it nearly grew too much, but that morning, they had been too sleepy to truly be sad, something you were thankful for. Din carried you halfway when your knees buckled from exhaustion, and you had slipped into a tearful rest with the child in his bed.

No amount of sleep helps, though. You know through rationality that leaving Corde and Venka in the care of the covert, under the protection of Paz Vizla is the wisest choice. You could not live if either of them were hurt because of your selfishness, but you did not consider how much you would mourn how silent the ship is now, how lonely it feels, how complex and different your lives became when they clung to your skirts or the Mandalorian’s arms.

You have not left Din’s side, fully aware of how needy you are to follow him around like a lost kitten when he tinkers beneath a panel or goes into the hull to retrieve a tool. He says nothing to deter you, seeming just as listless as you, but you almost wish he would. You think it would be better if he spoke harshly, snapping you back into place like a fractured bone.

The baby seems even worse off. He sits at your feet, his petal shaped ears hanging dolefully as he rolls his durasteel ball against the wall so it will bounce back toward him, a sad and sorry replacement for his playmates. He turns his large, watery eyes up to you, and you scoop him up, not realizing how close to tears you are yourself. The two of you perch on either co-pilot seat at all hours, seeking the closeness your Mandalorian brings even with his back to you, piloting the ship through asteroid belts and over rings of different planets.

The University of Sanbra Guide to Intelligent Life is balanced on your knees, your soft-shoed feet propped up on one of the control panels so the baby can lean back against you more comfortably, and you read aloud to him and Din most hours, filling the ever encroaching silence with your voice until you’re hoarse.

When you’re not in the cockpit, you are in the hull practicing with your staff. You find old, busted holsters that Din doesn’t use and fashion them into a grip that you fit on the middle of the tool, protecting your hands while you grow used to the new reach you have. It takes time getting accustomed to opening and closing the staff, but soon you are flicking your wrist and unsheathing the beskar like a saber, which fills you with an undeniable excitement.

The first night, during dinner, you are tapping the staff against the floor of the hull while you explore the newly cleared out space. It gives you a clearer perspective of how wide the ship is, and Din is eating in the corner, sitting with his legs crossed and watching you. The child is busy reaching up for his plate, which Din must hold up in the air so the baby won’t eat so much he makes himself sick. Again.

“What happened to your first walking stick?” At your pause, you hear him clear his throat behind you. “I heard you say it was taken.”

“Walking aid,” you corrected lightly, tapping your staff’s end along the metal wall. It has a more hollow sound against the ramp, you find, than the reinforced sides of the hull, and you smile to yourself at this discovery. You explore this area, tapping lightly and muttering, “I was clumsy, broke too much with it. The Moff snapped it in half over his knee.”

He says nothing in reply, but later that night you notice, when you are grasping his shoulders desperately, astride him as he holds you so tightly against his chest, muttering Mando’a in your ear, that he has given your staff a place of honor beside his helm. Never far out of reach.

But sleep still does not come easy. It is a battle, fueled only by nightmares of a boot upon your cheek and the child crying. You wake in the night, bullets of sweat slipping past your eyebrows and down your neck, only fairly remorseful to rouse Din by your restlessness. He assures you the child is asleep, curled beneath blankets in his pram, but you don’t deny yourself the haunted memory of having heard him cry. You half expect to find a footprint upon your cheek when you wake again, or a back broken upon a beskar helmet.

Your dreams draw your conscience away from the present too often, enough to concern your lover who already has the world pressing down on his shoulders. You suck in a breath, shifting on the bench in the shop and pressing your cheek to the top of the baby’s head.

The intelligence given to Din when he received the fob for his bounty pinpointed the quarry on an icy, remote planet in the Hoth system. Not only would it take superior tracking skills, but neither you nor the child are prepared for the environment. He elected to stop at a small town on a moon he’d visited previously, not just to overstock his weapons’ locker but to supply you and the child with your new warmer clothing.

The bounties he collected on the Ivalice brothers had made him a wealthy man for a short time, he assured you whenever you hesitate to tell him you like something he might gift you. You are unused to being spoiled, with affection or material goods, but it seems to come more naturally to Din the longer you share his space and time. It is a queer and strange thing, seeing more of his personality when you had once only thought him to be cold and unfeeling, and it leads you to ruminate on this compassionate man beneath the armor you have grown to love handling, affixing to his body each morning and relieving him of it each night.

As you sit in the shop and listen to the vendor haggle prices, you feel the cold creeping through the windows, chilling you until you grow tired again. The child grows lethargic as well, his ears drooping and his eyes weighing heavy as he nuzzles close to your body heat. It occurs to you that perhaps his natural habitat is far removed from the ones you visit, and you wish to know more of his species, of his home. Din had told you that once, he was going to try and find the child’s people back when you were newly boarded to the Razor Crest and still shy around such a fierce warrior as a Mandalorian, but neither of you had spoken of it since.

The idea leaves you so sick, you have to actively push it away.

The thought of being separated from the child brings tears to your eyes, and you are swallowing the cries working their way up your chest when a warm, gloved hand rests on your shoulder.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Din kneels down quickly in front of you, helmet shining from the light in the shop windows, and you close your eyes against the glare, shaking your head helplessly.

The weak feeling of so many tears leaves you cross with yourself. Surely he feels some semblance of the grief you carry, and it’s not fair for you to languish in it while he’s shouldering through every task and chore to take up this job. You breathe deeply and sniffle, opening your eyes again with more resolve.

“I-I’m being stupid,” you mutter, your thumb tracing a wrinkle on the baby’s head. You wear gloves now too, dove grey and softer than his, another gift that accompanied your cloak. Din’s visor doesn’t stray from you, even when the vendor is shifting to eavesdrop out of your periphery. You clear your throat. “Are you finished?” you ask quietly.

He nods, slow to stand as if he fear you might tip forward. Tugging the cloak around you against the chill, he helps you to your feet and the three of you set out into the town. Misty, cold rain dances in the air above dirty, mud trodden streets, and you blink whenever it crystallizes on your lashes or dusts your cheeks. The baby sneezes when the mist tickles his ears, and when Din laughs at you both, you can’t help the smile it brings.

It is a welcome distraction from your sadness, from your nightmares, and you slip your free arm through his elbow, ignoring the sheathed staff that is affixed to the sash around your waist beneath the cloak. Somehow, even now, he is a surer and steadier anchor than beskar.

The town is built up, wooden and stone structures creating a city more than a town, filled with lumber workers and animal trappers. It has a rustic quality that you did not expect for a bustling enterprise hub, and when a medcenter comes into view, conspicuous by its many windows and telltale red stripe above the threshold, you come to a sudden stop.

“I-I need something,” you say suddenly, blushing high in your cheeks. Din turns to you, curiously tilting his head when you pass the baby into his arms. You shuffle the cloak tighter around you, glancing nervously up at his shadow against the grey, overcast winter sky.

“Alright.” His words hold no small amount of wariness. You purse your lips, understanding he isn’t going to be leaving you for this, and you sigh, gesturing towards the building. He glances between your destination and you, shrugging his pauldrons lightly, and when he speaks again, you think you hear a smile on his face. “...are you still shy?”

The blush unfurls in blatant heat, and you look away. Truthfully, you don’t think you won’t ever not be shy about such things. Dealing with your cycle, both as an indentured servant and slave, was one of the only times you were allowed privacy to yourself. You consider that, while you have shared your heart and mind and body with this man, he has never truly denied you anything. If you truly wish for him to wait outside, he will honor that.

“Do you wish me to change my nature?” you ask, shifting to remove your beskar from beneath the cloak. With a quick flick of the wrist, it stands beside you, allowing you to displace your weight properly and stand a little taller. “I don’t know if I can. I am modest in all ways of life.”

Din chuckles, following you through the sliding metal doors, but his quiet whisper behind your ear nearly has you skidding to a stop. “You are not always so timid with me, Mesh’la .”

When you turn to narrow your pale gaze at him, he is retreating to a corner of the lobby, folding himself in a chair and looking utterly unbothered.

Huffing, you walk up to the counter, speaking with the female alien quietly about needing a new implant. She takes you into an examination room, and you wait patiently for a doctor, unsure now that you are alone. This town is bigger, richer than Quanera, where you had access to a small-town doctor who administered your injection quickly and quietly. There had been no fuss. This time, the doctor who comes in takes your vitals, your blood, and your heart rate climbs as she glances at her holopad with a smile.

“Nervous?” she asks. She is a Twi’lek with deep blue coloring, and you think that her eyes are gold and very kind. “Your pulse is jumping a bit.”

“I’ve only seen a doctor once,” you confess, thinking of your examination upon purchase as a slave. You resist shuddering, curling your hands in your lap. “It’s...it’s been about six months since I received my implant.”

“That is the correct time length,” the doctor agrees, turning to her cabinet and opening the sterilized pouches with pristine gloves. “You’re very responsible to remember.”

The thought of what would happen should you forget makes your blood run cold for a moment. You have not truly thought of your body beyond a vessel, but since Kuiil extracted your chip, you have begun to appreciate things about yourself you had never paid attention to. Making choices like what clothes to cover yourself with (or not), how long or short you could wear your hair-such small things, you think, now make you feel ordinary. It is unfamiliar and altogether pleasant. Being able to go to bed with a man, with anyone of your choosing, had not been a possibility to you before.

Now, imagining having your body overtaken by something like a new life fills you with sickness in the pit of your stomach, feels like being stolen from.

But, at the same time, after the brief moment has passed, you think of being able to lay a hand on your belly and what Din’s blurry visage might look like if you spoke those words to him.

One day , you decide with resolution, rolling up your sleeve and presenting your arm happily to the doctor.

When you exit the examination room, you find the lobby empty. Your heart drops to your stomach, trying desperately to squint and hoping you have missed a shadow or shade that might be the Mandalorian, and you use your staff to tap against the edge of the counter, putting a hand out to steady yourself.

“Excuse me?” you begin to ask the nurse droid, but in that same moment, the Mandalorian strides back inside through the sliding metal doors, calling your name.

Relief washes over you, and you hold your hand out to his glove when he grabs your fingers, a grin on his face beneath the helmet from the sound of his voice. “Come look,” he says breathlessly. You notice the baby is wide awake now, ears perked high from beneath the blanket he is swaddled in, and you allow yourself to be led outside to find something remarkable.

“W-What is it?” you ask when you see that it no longer rains, shying back beneath the building’s covering, but Din gently leads you out into the cold street where other people have stopped to exclaim and point with excitement.

“Snow,” he says, glancing at you as you hold out your hand where wispy flurries begin melting on your covered palm. It’s so light, dancing in the air and never seeming to truly land anywhere. You can’t quite see it, only when it’s low enough or right in front of your face, and you sneeze when a few of the flakes tickle your nose.

The baby suddenly squeals with laughter, reaching his own tiny three fingered hand up to try to catch the delicate, fluffy flakes. You can feel the cold melting on your cheeks, dripping down your neck and beneath your clothes. Din reaches over and uses the back of his fingers to brush it away.

“I’ve never seen snow before,” you say gently, holding out your palm towards the sky. The beskar staff grows colder, begins to frost, and you twist it to fold it inside itself, slipping it back onto the loose sash of your dress. Now you hold both palms out, up to the sky, feeling the small kisses of snow melt through your gloves.

“Where we’re going, you’ll get sick of it,” he chuckles, bouncing the baby on his arm gently.

When you feel the cold on your lips, you dart your tongue out to taste it, gasping with surprise. You must stand there catching flakes in your palms and on your tongue for so long that you are surprised Din doesn’t sigh and shuffle you off. It’s only when you shiver, face damp from the floating ice, that he touches your back and says quietly that he should get you and the child out of the cold.

You take the baby from him when you board the Razor Crest, freeing him to take care of the pre-flight checks, and you giggle and kiss away the melting snow from the child’s cheeks until he snorts and hiccups with laughter. You blot away the rest with the corner of his blue blanket, smiling.

The small kitchenette upstairs isn’t the most modern of installations, but you are able to heat bone broth and bread, feeding the little one in the cockpit while Din pilots quietly. The familiarity of your surroundings sends you back months, thinking of when you were too intimidated to even speak, let alone sit with the armored warrior.

Once the child is fed, you allow him to toddle about in the limited space of the cockpit, standing to stretch and noticing a surprising splash of color near the Mandalorian’s glove. Moving closer, you rest your now bare hand upon the back of his neck, reaching over to touch the blue flowers in the clay cup the child had gifted him so long ago. They had since bloomed and dried into a fragile relic, and Din’s helmet tilts toward you as you caress it.

You wish you could take Corde and Venka to that field of flowers, splattered in violet and periwinkle.

Without speaking, the Mandalorian reaches out and flips a switch, letting go of the controls before gently guiding you by your hips to sit upon his armored cuisse. His glove rests upon the flesh of your waist, curled over the firm beskar staff still hanging there, and you press the warmth of your cheek against his cold crown of his helmet.

“It is okay to be sad,” Din whispers, both of you cognizant of the little child climbing over his boots beneath your feet. “You do not have to keep it inside you, to yourself.”

Tears threaten to well in your eyes, and you swallow them down hard. You have been crying so much, so freely, that it leaves you feeling guilty. His voice carries all the grief you have harbored since leaving the covert-perhaps even more. You rest one arm around the back of his shoulders, your other hand falling over the soft space between his vambrace and pauldron.

“I do not want to burden you even more,” you whisper, your eyes drifting through the blurry streaks of stars as autopilot guides the ship through the frigid depths of space. You can see the coordinates for your destination, though you cannot read them. They are a scarlet smear of digital letters, not unlike blood upon a stone. “It isn’t fair.”

Din is silent, though you have a feeling-one that comes beyond words, a feeling that is only shared between two people who have known each other so irrevocably-that he agrees, that he understands. You rest against him, in his arms, upon his legs, and you feel yourself listing into a dreamless sleep. Fatigue has followed you these short days after departing Nevarro, and traveling into the Hoth sector, where it feels even colder somehow, has left you mellow and slow-moving.

When you wake, you are slumped in the co-pilot’s seat, and you can hear the baby chirping close by. Din is pulling the ship into land, the descent through a bright atmosphere one of the smoothest you think he has ever flown, and you smile as your hands find the soft, heavy fabric of his cloak upon you, even while you still wear your own. As your eyes adjust to the lighting of the cockpit, you find you have to squint from such a brightness you’ve never experienced on board the Crest, the light reflecting off a harsh white view.

“Where are we?” you ask softly, slow to sit up and feeling a slight stiffness in your neck.

Din’s helmet tilts to the side, but he does not turn from the observation deck, flipping several switches to activate the landing gear. The light has not reduced, and it takes you much longer to adjust. You briefly wonder if he has some kind of photo sensor detection in his helmet that neutralizes the reflection. You feel the thrusters turn on, allowing a softer landing than you expect, and as the engines power down, he finally turns his chair smoothly to face you.

The baby coos from his lap, and a laugh bursts from between your lips.

“What is that!”

Din huffs indignantly, laying a palm on top of the baby’s head. It’s covered with a thickly woven wrap to protect his ears, swaddling him like some kind of decadently coated olive. You can’t make out what it’s made of, but the dark material only allows his face to be free. His ears wiggle at your laugh and he blinks his large, innocent eyes, making you grin wider as you stand.

“It’s freezing out there,” Din grumbles, allowing you to lift the child into your arms where he immediately begins to snuggle closer into your warmth. The wrap smells like Din, you think, and you hide a smile as you press a kiss to the baby’s brow. You turn your pale eyes upon the Mandalorian’s shadow before leaning down and kissing the steel above his visor, too.

“You are a sweet-hearted man, Din Djarin,” you murmur, unable to keep the lightness from your voice, your movements. His hand touches your waist tenderly, only falling away when you turn to retrieve his thick cloak from the chair you vacated. “Are we to wait for you to return from bounding and sneaking across the plains?”

He ignores your teasing, standing and receiving the cloak you offer him. You watch as he affixes it over his helmet, tucking it much tighter beneath the beskar than usual. “Yes,” he tilts his helmet towards you, and you sigh a little, wishing you could see his face. Knowing and understanding why you can’t for now. “But not yet. There’s something I want to show you.”

Your curiosity piqued, you follow him swiftly down the ladder, suddenly grateful for the thickly lined dress, woolen leggings, and thick boots he insisted upon. Din lowers the ramp, and you yelp at the sudden frigid blast of dry air that seems to frost everything around you like splintering cobwebs. You grab the baby up, burying him beneath your cloak and glaring at the Mandalorian who laughs at your scowling.

“I told you it was cold.”

Your answering glower does little to snuff out his laughter, and you allow him to tug your gloves back on one at a time, shifting the little child in your arms. It’s only when he steps out onto the ramp that you notice he has armed himself to the teeth, and his rifle is slung across his back. Once, it frightened you, but now it seems just another part of him.

Blinking against the bright light, you pull the hood of your cloak over the crown of your head before taking your staff out, comforted by the quiet clink of the beskar against the ramp as you step outside.

The sun glares down upon a frozen, empty surface, a thickly snowy hill country, and you think the Razor Crest must be the only blot of color on the entire planet. You sniffle against the cold, realizing as you walk down the ramp that the earth is not solid.

Immediately, you sink down nearly to your knees in soft, powdery snow.

“Din!”

His laugh is loud, barking through the vocoder, and you scramble to try and step through it, only succeeding in sinking further into the drift of white crystals that are melting less than before. It coats your boots, your leggings, your dress, and you sputter and spit the fluffy crystals off your faces.

The baby shrieks with happiness.

“Alright,” he laughs, stepping over and helping you out of the drift until you can find a place to stand more solidly. He brushes the snow coating your cloak, and you slap his elbow playfully.

“You could have warned me. That wasn’t funny.”

“You are very pretty when you are angry, though.”

Your cheeks blush hot enough to melt the speckles of snow on your eyelashes, and you duck your head bashfully, gently setting the baby down upon his feet. His tiny boots, sewn from the thick scraps of leather of Din’s worn holsters and lined with wool you’d taken from your own dress’s hem, barely leave footprints as he begins to waddle curiously. His little arms are thrust out on either side to retain his balance, ears wiggling with delight beneath his head wrap as he coos in wonder at the icy landscape around him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you finally sniff, hovering carefully behind the child as he makes a slow ramble through the snow, one hand splayed outward just in case he falls as you lean on your staff.

Warm, rough leather hands circle your hips, and you suck in a breath as you’re pulled back against hard beskar, and suddenly you don’t feel the cold at all. The curve of his helmet bumps the back of your head where your hood shields your hair, and you swallow against the sudden rush of heat blooming in your belly.

“I’d give you my rifle for another chance to see you challenge a man with it,” Din whispers, barely audible over the gentle breeze. Your pale eyes keep hold of the tiny ball of wool that is your son, huffing and puffing as he makes a path through the snow ahead of you, but you can’t say your attention is fully dedicated to him anymore, especially when Din’s hands begin to slip beneath your cloak, tracing the curve of your waist. Even through your layers, you can imagine the path his hands make, and you are burning beneath them now.

You turn your face over your shoulder, biting your lip. “I’m still unhappy with you for not telling me about that fight,” you mutter, shuddering when one of his hands cups your breast and squeezes, firm enough to nearly have your knees buckling. “I-I won’t...be distracted.”

His chuckle vibrates through the beskar chest plate against your back, and you have to close your eyes and breathe through the sudden dizziness of feeling him firm against your backside. He rests the lip of his helmet upon your shoulder.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You both stand together, your free arm folded over his as he holds you, watching the baby giggle and flop in the snow. He face plants forward, causing the both of you to burst with laughter, and he seems intent to try to make his imprint on the ground.

Kneeling down, you scoop snow into your gloved hand, squeezing and forming it experimentally. You had never truly considered what snow was like, having hailed from a temperate and balmy climate, but the way the bright sun glimmers, nearly too much, you can see the appeal. Your breath fogs before your face, and you blow rings into the air.

And then, a sudden splatter of snow swamps you from above, and you scream.

Whirling around, you find the Mandalorian holding his middle, shaking with restrained laughter, and you take two quick strides up to him before giving him a firm shove. Surprisingly, he loses his balance and tips over with ease, falling back into the pillow of a snow drift only to laugh harder in the face of your wrath.

“You’re such a bucket-head!” you laugh, picking up your own handful of snow and lobbing it at his helmet. The satisfaction of actually aiming and hitting your mark is stolen when he continues to laugh, a deep, rich, and warm sound, sprawled in the snow and deeply unaffected by your vengeance.

Panting with giggles, the baby waddles at top speed through the icy powder, giving a wiggling hop to pounce upon his father’s chest as if to claim a prize. You plop down on his other side, thumping hard on the chest plate with the mythosaur carved in the top of your staff.

“This is what you wanted to show us, is it?” you challenge, knowing he’s beaming under his visor. He folds his hands under his helmet as if he could simply take a nap, and you grin down at him, shaking your head. The baby moves to sit on his chest, grunting until he squeals in triumph and begins to slap his tiny hands upon the helmet like playing a drum.

“Alright, womp-rat,” Din grunts, lifting the child up high in his arms as he sits up. The baby coos, throwing his hands out as if he could fly through the air, and you giggle when you watch Din sit the little green infant upon his shoulder. He offers you a hand, pulling you to your feet with more delicacy than Paz Vizla, brushing snow off your shoulders. You smile, pushing yourself up to your toes and pressing your warm forehead against his cold one.

Beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep-

Din tenses, his hands gripping like iron with a near bruising strength around your wrists suddenly. You blink, foggy and distant in the planes of affection and play, before you realize the soft echoing radar comes from his own person. He has gone completely still before you, the tracking fob giving off a subtle blinking red light at his hip, and as you draw your pale gaze up to him, you realize why.

On the horizon of the otherwise blindingly white landscape, there is a small smear of color in the distance, hardly noticeable at first, a blotting of red like dripped wax on paper, but you see it as it moves. Moving toward you, and Din. And the child.

“Get him inside,” Din snarls, thrusting you and the little one sharply behind him before striding through the snow like a shadow defying the bend of light, shouldering his rifle with the ease of a practiced killer. “And lock yourselves in.”

Your heart is a panicked, fluttery thing, a frightened rabbit in the open sight of prey, and you clutch the baby in your arms, wrapping him firmly against your chest even when he begins to fuss at the jolting movements. You are clumsy, stumbling through the snow and tripping even with your staff, nearly falling several times in your attempt to get back to the ramp of the Razor Crest. It is slick with ice and snow, and you slip on the lip of the threshold, landing painfully on your knees. Fear is clawing up your throat, and you feel tears sting your eyes when the child begins to whimper over your shoulder, reaching out his tiny hands toward his father.

Using the staff to draw yourself up, you slam your gloved hand against the release switch to shut the hull, looking desperately across the tundra for a sign of the man you love, for the prey he hunts, but all you see is white.

-

Mando’a Translations:

Cyare - Beloved

-

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[lordabovehelpme]

My King- Din Djarin x Reader

This is a part 2 to “My Queen” which can be found here. :)

masterlist

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

These mornings are your favorite. When the light trickles in through the window and casts golden light onto the soft cheeks of your husband. His soft brown curls look lighter under the sun, they are irresistible to not touch.

Running your fingers over his scalp in the way you know he likes best, you can’t help but smile. He is everything you had ever wanted. Strong, handsome, and a little bit of a goofball.

“Cyar’ika…” Your endearment is the only word you can make out of his little string of mumbles. His voice is gruff and husky with sleep and his eyes are still closed.

“What was that, handsome?” You push his hair out of his face and hold his cheeks between your hands.

Instead of answering you, he tilts his head so he can place a kiss to your left hand. His eyes slowly open. Deep chocolate and caramel swirls as he adjusts to the light. His body grows wider as he breathes in and stretches the sleep from his muscles.

“I love you so much.” It breaks away from your lips before you even realize.

His eyes crinkle as he smiles and he grabs your waist before pulling you into a deep kiss. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, Mesh’la.” 

You were over the moon when he first uttered the ancient mandalorian words to you. It showed how he was comfortable enough to share his culture with you.

Nuzzling your noses against each other you just bask in the warmth and love radiating off of each other. Hands wander and run over skin, yet with no purpose or intent. His legs entangle with your own as he pulls you closer to him. His four day old scruff tickles your cheeks and you can’t help but to giggle.

Hopelessly in love.

***

“You know, it fits you. Sleek yet shiny.” You tap the beskar crown the armorer had gifted him at your wedding.

“Does it now?” To everyone else he would seem annoyed but you can hear the twinkle of amusement in his voice.

“Yeah. You look like a scary king. Someone who you don’t want to mess with.” Enforcing your point, you make finger guns and pretend to hit invisible targets.

“Who would have thought that the queen is so childish?”

“HEY!” You stick your tongue out at him.

“You just proved me right.”

Scoffing you act offended, “At least I have fun.”

He doesn’t respond for a second and you’re starting to actually think you struck a nerve. But then all the sudden you are thrown over his shoulder.

“I’ll show you fun, Cyar’ika.”

You laugh and laugh as you pound his back. A firm slap comes to your behind, which is high in the air.

“DIN!”

This time he laughs as he carries you to your shared quarters.

***

The child smiles as he peers into one of the many fountains in the courtyard. A shimmer in the water catches his eye and he giggles. His tiny arms raise and he starts to scamper up onto the ledge. Peering over he takes a step over the water.

“Woah there!” You make it just in time and grab the back of his robe. The child giggles and coos at you. “No swimming today kind sir.”

Picking him up you walk him back to the blanket you had set out. Your beloved husband was supposed to be arriving back home today.

Although he doesn’t need to, he still goes bounty hunting. He says he likes the thrill of the hunt and that he likes making the world a better place. Not being the one to stop him, you always let him go. However, you do complain and voice to him how you miss him terribly.

“Finish your sandwich, ad’ika.” You watch as his hands grab the small sandwich before biting in. Sighing you lay back and bask in the warmth of the day.

Birds sing from the trees sounding you and water rippling can be heard from the fountains. Faint laughter comes from the schoolyard next to the castles grounds. Bugs chirp in the heat and wind rustles through the branches.

“Maker, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Your eyes shoot open and you jump up before falling into your mandalorians arms.

“Careful there, Cyare.” He grabs you and pulls you into his chest, steadying you.

“I missed you so much.” A squeal of excitement comes from the child as he stands and runs to his father.

He breaks away from you for only a second, so he can pick up the child. Grabbing you again he wraps himself around you both.

His family.

***

You know that look too well. The look of, please let me leave. You send him a glance, if I have to stay, you have to stay. You can see him sink down in his seat.

Being the rulers of a planet was not always all fun and games, there were days packed with meetings. Today was one of those days.

“What do you think, my queen?”

“Hmm. We should make sure to send more grain to them and I will personally visit their region tomorrow.”

Your advisor nods before leaving the room.

“I have no clue how you do this while I am gone.” Now that the room is empty your husband can voice his boredom.

“Patience, my love. Patience.” Walking over you sit yourself on his lap. Grabbing the sides of his helmet you push it up just enough to kiss him.

“If this is how you are going to finish every meeting, count me in.”

***

“Take a bath with me?” You reach out your hand to him. He’s laying on the bed, reading something about the news from the village.

You don’t have to ask him twice. He is peeling off armor and canvas, leaving it in a trail to the bathroom. You can’t help but smile and laugh when he hops on one foot, trying to get his sock off the other.

“Come on, silly girl. I’m getting smellier by the second.”

You fully laugh at that. “Alright, alright.”

The bathroom is filled with the scent of roses and his own natural musk. Steam rises from the bath, petals and oats are floating on the surface. But the best part of it all, is the sight of your husband resting his head on the edge, thighs spread and welcoming you to sit in between them.

He watches as you undress yourself and tie your hair up. “Maker, you’re so beautiful.”

You flash him an appreciative smile as you lower yourself into the hot water. Situating yourself in front of him, he wraps his arms around your waist.

“Din?”

“Hmm.”

“Do you remember when we first met?”

“How could I forget it. You literally stopped me in my tracks, Cyar’ika.” You giggle at the memory of the seemiling frozen mandalorian standing in front of your throne. “When your father hired me to watch over you that week, I was expecting a snoody little princess who was so entitled that she didn’t know servants from her own subjects. But instead, you were so kind and peaceful. You’ve always had an air of royalty to you.”

“Well I am royalty.” You lift his arm out of the water and run a soapy sponge over it.

“You know what I mean, Cyare. You were born to rule, to look over your people with such compassion and love. Other planets are not so fortunate.”

Turning around in his arms you kiss him. “Thank you baby.”

“Hmm for what?”

“For always seeing the best in me.”

“Well then I should be thanking you more.”

“I love you, my King.”

“I love you more.”

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

Okay, wait, I love this. I might MIGHT eventually make more parts. Idk, it’s up to you guys. 

Anyway, I hope you all liked it! 

Love, Lordy :)

[hiscyarika]

There Can Be Peace

Word Count: 1.4k

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Reader

Summary: Sometimes the Mandalorian just needs space to talk and a place to be at peace.

Warning(s): None

A/N: This was based of of this post by @swimmingbyrd​. I read it and absolutely had to write a little thing based off of it. Hopefully this helps bring it to life a little more! 

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You can feel the ache of exhaustion settling into your bones with every step that you take across the metal floor of the Razor Crest. The child rests in your arms, slowly but surely giving in to the pull of sleep as you hum softly and mindlessly to him. There’s no tune, just the gentle vibrations of your voice bringing the little one closer and closer to rest with the help of your careful pacing. It’s become a routine at this point, and there’s something so serene about it all that makes you want to freeze and save the moment every time.

Letting out one last little yawn, the baby’s head finally falls to your shoulder. His big brown eyes close, and he wraps his hand around the collar of the shirt you wear, completely asleep. Your heart swells at the sight, and you don’t immediately put him to bed. Instead, you keep humming to him and walking with him, just wanting to hold onto him for a little longer. Before you’d come onto the Crest with the Mandalorian, you’d never seen yourself as the maternal type, but here you are, caring for this strange little creature like he’s your own.

It’s not what you imagined for your life, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You let out a soft breath, your humming coming to a stop, and you step in front of the little one’s pod, leaning down to gently lay him inside. It takes a little bit of work to uncurl his fingers from your shirt, but you’re grateful that he doesn’t stir as you free yourself from his grasp. You take great care covering him with his blanket and tucking him in, making sure that he’ll be nice and warm while the Crest glides through cold open space. Before you leave him alone to rest, you gently stroke his ear with your finger, smiling at the sleepy chirp that comes from the baby at the touch.

With the little one taken care of, you have another job to do, one that’s much more difficult. Climbing up the ladder to the cockpit, you shake your head when you find Din still sitting in the pilot’s seat, staring out the viewport as the ship glides through hyperspace. You walk up behind him, resting a hand on his pauldron. His gloved hand immediately comes up to rest on top of yours, gentle and warm in contrast to the cold beskar steel. “Come on. We’ve got a few hours before we come out of hyperspace. You need rest,” you murmur.

“I’ll be fine up here. Go get some sleep,” he replies. “Did the little one get to sleep alright?,” he asks. You know what he’s doing with the question: trying to change the subject to keep you from pressing him. It’s an old tactic though, and one that you can see right through.

“He’s fine. And you should be asleep too. Now let’s go,” you implore him. He shakes his head, but you stop him before he has a chance to continue arguing with you. “It wasn’t a question, Djarin. Now will you please get up so we can get some rest?”

He huffs out a sigh, and you grin in triumph knowing exactly what it means. He lets go of your hand, and you take a half step back as he rises from the chair. Nodding in the direction of the ladder, he urges you forward, and you make your way back to the hull of the ship. Once he’s joined you, he makes quick work of removing his armor, gloves, and boots, leaving him in his base layer of clothes and his helmet. With the beskar in a neat pile in front of the weapons cache, he turns out the lights, leaving both of you in pitch darkness.

Even with your sight lost to you, it doesn’t take you but a second to find him. He wraps his arms around you when you’re finally close enough, holding you to his chest for a moment. But then you separate from him a bit, just enough for you to be able to reach up and release him from the last barrier between you. You place the helmet on a nearby crate, but then return your focus to Din, smiling gently as a soft, tender kiss is placed on your lips.

As much as he tries to hide it, you know he’s tired. You know it by the way that he leans into you, letting you bare more of his weight, and the way he tries to stifle a yawn by burying his face in your hair. You’ve been around him long enough now that there’s not much he can get past you.

“I don’t know why you do this every time,” you tease him quietly, keeping your voice low to avoid waking the child, “You know it’s a losing battle.”

“One day you’ll give up,” he whispers in reply. He knows you won’t.

“Not in a thousand lifetimes,” you tell him, shaking your head and pressing another kiss to his lips.

You lead him over to his cot, then, and together the two of you work to find a position that’s comfortable on the tiny bed. It’s small, but you’ve found a way to make it work, tangling your legs together and letting him sleep with his head on your chest. His unruly curls brush against your collarbone, and with one hand you run your fingers through them, trying to work out the tangles left behind by the helmet.

As he lies there with you, Din wraps an arm around your torso. His hand works its way under the material of your shirt, where he traces gentle patterns into the skin of your ribcage with his fingers. It’s always tender, soothing touches between you, something that took him a long time to be truly comfortable with. He’d been loved by the Mandalorians growing up, but it was a tough kind of love, different from the way that you love him now. He didn’t realize how much he needed this softness until you came along.

You’ve relieved his soul in a way that he could never thank you enough for.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmurs, his voice vibrating softly against your sternum. He’s quiet and hesitant, and so you remain silent, giving him room to say the words swirling around in his head without any interruption or insistence on your end. He’ll say what he needs to or he won’t speak any more. You leave it up to him.

“Sometimes I think about it,” he whispers, “and I never like what I come up with. Things are better with you here. And I know I still keep myself closed off sometimes and I argue with you about things…” He trails off then, letting out a soft breath. You still don’t speak or push him, letting him find the words that he wants. It always takes him a moment, but you’re patient.

“I love you,” Din finally whispers, his voice trembling just slightly with the words. You know how hard it is for him to say them, because he’s lost so many of the people he’s let himself love over the course of his life. You know he’s determined to keep you and the child both from suffering that same fate.

Your hand slowly comes down from his hair until you cradle his stubbled jaw with your fingers. He tilts his head to look up at you and carefully you capture his lips in a tender kiss. He immediately reciprocates, are there are more words in this silent contact than he could ever hope to eloquently speak aloud.

“I love you too, Din,” you finally whisper. And with that any tension left in his body seeps away, leaving him completely relaxed as he lies there with you.

It’s there that the two of you stay for a while, neither of you aware of the passage of time. The only thing that matters is the warmth of each other’s bodies and breathing each other in. It’s in this state, between sleep and awake, that you and the Mandalorian both find peace. A peace that you give to one another and couldn’t bear to live without.

---

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[elfy-elf-imagines]

Return to Me P.II | Lindir

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Lindir x Human!reader

Genre: Fluff, pure fluff

Warnings: Potential toothaches...??

Words: 2,174 

Note: If you’d like to be added to a tag list for any of my works, there’s a link on my page! 12 years later we get Part 2 and the reunion of my two beans ♡

The sun is partially bright on this day, it seems, as if the sky itself is celebrating the return of Gondor’s king. Wind dances through the courtyard, making dance partners with everyone in the crowd, moving your dress with its beat. Your hair, pinned in a simple hairstyle often worn by the elves, is curled to perfection, bouncing in tune with birds singing in the distance. There’s a stupidly large grin on your face, one that you don’t care to try and force away. Everything in the past year or so has led to this very moment, every impossible moment and near death experience made it possible for peace to truly be restored to the realms as Aragorn takes his throne. The crowd is silent, watching the coronation with bated breath and wide eyes, excited and hopeful for the new chapter in their lives. Some people near the front desperately move around, trying to get a better look. 

“Now comes the day of the king, may they be blessed!” Gandalf proclaims as he lowers the crown on Aragorn’s head. Aragorn smiles up at Gandalf, the same soothing smile that makes it easy to understand Arwen’s love for him and makes it even easier to understand the love the people hold for him. He stands from his kneeling position, turning to face the cheering crowd. His cloak billows dramatically behind him, showing off his perfectly polished armor, that glimmers with the regalness expected of a king. One hand rests on the pommel of his blade while his other is outstretched. 

“This day does not belong to one man, but to all. Let us together rebuild this world; that we may share in the days of peace.” He holds both of his hands out, his voice soft, yet confident, speaking as Elessar, the King of Gondor, the rightful heir returned to his throne; not Strider, the Ranger in the North. He commands the attention of everyone just by simply being in a room, never needing to raise his voice higher than a comfortable talking volume. 

You glance at Gimli beside you, his wild red hair and beard somewhat tamed for the special event, the beads in his hair that accessorize his braids glint brightly in the sun. He holds a plush velvet pillow that moments prior Aragorn’s crown that adorns his head used to rest on. He wears a large grin you’re sure is also on your face, as relieved and ecstatic for the new era as you. You move your gaze back to Aragorn, white blossoms from The White Tree blowing in the wind, captivating your attention. Like a child catching snow, you hold out a hand, hoping to capture a blossom or two. You manage to get three. You close your hand around them, feeling the silky petals on your skin. A moment later, you open your hand and blow on the flowers, urging them to continue flying through the wind. 

And they do, they dance in the air, a beautiful waltz you could never hope to mimic. 

Aragorn descends down the stairs, nodding his head at every familiar face he passes. The procession of elves march forward, but it’s not the uptight and rigid way they march into battle, no it’s too relaxed and loose for that. Legolas steps forward, wearing ceremonial garb fitting of an elven prince, him and Aragorn clasping each other's arm. Aragorn says something to him, too quiet for you to hear. Legolas smirks, and moves his head to the left. The elves behind him move forward, one of them holding a particularly large banner, the sigil on it familiar. 

A bright smile forms on your face and your eyes practically glow in excitement. You’ve seen that banner a million times, when you would walk up and down the halls of Imladris, hung in the Hall of Fire, and even in your bedroom. She’s here, she’s really here. You knew that she wouldn’t leave for Valinor without a fight, but seeing her here, in person, puts out any lingering doubt. 

Slowly, she moves the banner aside, confirming it to be Arwen, beautiful and radiant as ever. She wears a pale green flowy dress, it’s fabric light and airy, the style common for elves, a stark difference to the heavy and thick dresses of Gondor and Rohan. A headpiece forged from silver and inlaid with dozens of glittering gems adorns her head, crowing her lucious black hair that falls down her back like a lazy waterfall. Her pale skin glows in the warm sunlight, her eyes sparkling from the tears forming. 

For a moment, Aragorn and Arwen stare at each other, one watching the other with amazement and love in their eyes. The crowd is dead silent, everyone intently watching the scene unraveling before them. Then Aragorn steps forward, grabbing onto the banner and pulling it away. And then he lunges forward, capturing her lips into a kiss. She laughs in delight, throwing her arms around his as he lifts her into the air, spinning her around. They pull away for a moment and she places her dainty hands on his face, leaning forward and placing a short and sweet kiss on his lips. 

The crowd around them begins clapping loudly, warmly greeting their new queen. And it didn’t register in your mind that this might be the first time most of these people have seen an elf this close up. But then you saw the looks of wonder and amazement on the faces of some citizens, children excitedly pulling on the skirts of their mothers, pointing wildly at Arwen and the other elves. 

You continue watching the newly reunited pair, your face growing numb from the large smile that is permanently etched on your face. You scan the crowd, seeing Lord Elrond, with a soft smile on his face; Glorfindel beside him; Elladan and Elrohir behind his father to the right. You continue scanning the crowd, but then your heart stops, only to begin beating again faster than ever before. 

Standing amidst the other elves, wearing silken and beautiful ceremonial garb, probably the most pristine outfit he owns, is Lindir. His black hair is glossy, every strand in its place, pulled back in an intricate elven braid. He wears a silver circlet, fitting for an elf of his status, the tip of it resting on his forehead. His skin is glowing, not as intensely as Arwen, but captivating to you. His cheeks are stained a pale red, a beautiful smile on his face. His blue eyes move to you and for the first time in over a year, your eyes meet. You feel a jolt of electricity run through your body, heart beat increasing in pace. 

Your smile widens, if possible, and you can’t tear your gaze away from him. Even when Aragorn and Arwen begin to move through the crowd, your eyes stay locked on him. When you, along with everyone else, bow for the Hobbits, your eyes only flit away for a second before returning to their previous position. And when the crowds begin to disperse, everyone mingling with one another as they lazily move towards the feast portion of the Coronation, you stay locked in place. 

“You coming, lassi?” Gimli’s gruff voice interrupts your thoughts, but his voice is so far away, you weren’t sure if he was still by you. You glance at him out of the corner of your eyes, moving your gaze back to Lindir, still in his same spot. 

“Yeah...I’ll be there in a moment,” you mutter, not sure if he even hears the words that fall from your mouth. He scoffs in amusements and shakes his head before moving away with Gandalf, muttering something about young love.

You take one step forward, Lindir mimicking your movements.

You take another step and so does Lindir. 

Once your feet touch the stone steps, your mind suddenly comes alive, as if water got thrown over your body. As if you only have a few moments to live, you rush towards Lindir, weaving through the lingering people with the grace of a baby elephant. But you can’t bring yourself to care about the wild stares or accusing words falling from people’s lips. The only thing you can focus on is Lindir, and feeling his lips against yours. 

Three.

Two.

One.

The distance between you two disappears as you throw your arms around him, enjoying the feeling of the soft fabric of his robes beneath your fingers. He’s warm and inviting and everything you missed while travelling with The Fellowship. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, snuggling as close as physically possible. The smell of mountain air, fields of grass, and rose oil hits your senses, pulling you deeper and deeper into your bliss. He’s real and he’s here. You deeply inhale once more, allowing this moment to sink in, immersing yourself in the moment.

You move your head to face him, throwing your head back in delight as a stream of laughter leaves your mouth. You move your arms to wrap around his neck, one of his hands winding around your waist and the other lightly cupping your face. Like magnets you move closer to one another, staring deeply into each other’s eyes with dumb smiles on your face. 

“You came back to me,” he whispers, the words tickling your lips. 

“I came back,” you reply.

You don’t remember who did it, all you know is his lips are now on yours, connecting them in a kiss. His lips are soft against yours, filling your whole body with a fire, burning away the ice that formed in his absence. Your heart soars, long past the point of just beating rapidly against your chest. You feel light, like you’re made of air and you’ll fly away any second without Lindir holding you in place. All the noise and background people fade away, until there’s nothing but this moment. And you can’t help but smile in the kiss when Lindir laughs, the noise swallowed by your mouth. 

And in that moment you decide there’s nothing better than kissing someone while they laugh. 

You pull a whisper away, moving a hand to trace the outlines of his face. His skin is smooth and perfect, the shining example of the perfection of elves. His blue eyes are like oceans, clear and bright and vividly blue. And if every ocean looked like this, you wouldn’t mind drowning as long as it was in him. 

“I told you it would take more than Mordor to get rid of me,” you mumble softly, smiling brightly at him, shining like the sun currently bathing the two of you in it’s radiance. 

“Apologies for ever doubting you, meleth-nin,” he responds, returning your smile tenfold. 

Another breeze rushes through the courtyard, rustling your dress and Lindir’s hair. You laugh, the sound being swept away in the wind, singing in tune with the birds that have swept into the courtyard. Some spare white blossoms continue dancing through the sky, gently landing on Lindir’s head. He reaches up, delicately grabbing it, careful to not crush the pristine petals. He moves his hand to your hair, tucking the flower into one of your braids near the front of your face. You're practically glowing now, a beaming smile overcoming your face. And with your body practically vibrating from happiness, standing under the sun, you look like an otherworldly being. And if not for your round ears on clear display, some passersby might mistake you for an elf.

You lean forward, pressing a soft and sweet kiss to his lips, tasting the remnants of sweet berries on his lips. They were always his favorite, a fresh bowl of them always resting on his desk, only to be devoured within an hour. 

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips, still smiling like an idiot. 

“No more than I love you,” he responds, a teasing undertone buried in his words. You pull back, eyes alight with overwhelming happiness. It’s over, everything with Sauron, Mordor, orcs, and that stupid ring is over, it has been for months. But now it feels real, standing here, wrapped up in Lindir as he smiles sweetly at you. 

“I respectfully disagree.” 

“And I respectfully disagree with your disagreement,” he fires back, grin getting wider and wider with each quip spoken. 

“And I respectfully disagree with your respectful disagreement,” you respond, matching his teasing tone, laughter hidden under each word.

“Well I --” he’s cut off by a hand touching your shoulder. Turning around you see Glorfindel standing there, obviously holding back the laughter that’s bubbling inside him, a beaming smile on his youthful face. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, my friends, but we do have a celebration to attend to,” he says, nodding towards the crowd of people leaving. 

“Of course,” Lindir replies, moving to stand to your left, holding out his arm to you. You slip your arm into his without hesitation. “Let us be off, My Lady.”

“With pleasure, My Lord.” 

                                                 o0o0o0o0o

Tags: 

@lunatichaotiche | @atenr | @aearonnin | @emiliessketches | @vibratingbones​ | @moony-artnstuff​ | @ranhanabi777​ | @kenobiguacamole​

[dailywilliams]

yelyahwilliams: baby’s first fashion week! 🌷🥬🌎👩🏼‍🌾 thank you hillary for inviting me to play your beautiful/meaningful/kooky/flowery/garden-hoey @collinastrada show. couldn’t have been more fitting to show up and perform “SIMMER”. who would’ve thought when i wrote the lyrics “wrap yourself in petals for armor”, i would get a chance to sing them on a stage made of real grass, surrounded by people dressed in flowers, with a garden as my backdrop? THIS WAS SUCH A COOL MOMENT TO BE A PART OF and don’t doubt it is one of the most exciting, unique, and inspiring shows at #nyfw this season. *swipe thru to see my fav collina model FEEELING HERSELF at soundcheck*

[sherrybaby14]

So Proud of You

This is for Siren-Kitten-His Seven Deadly Sins Challenge. (Congrats on the followers Doll!)  

 Prompt:  Pride

Pairing:  Stony x reader

Summary:  You’re in an established poly relationship with Steve and Tony and they are so proud of you.

Warnings: SMUT, threesome, stuff that happens in the threesome, Romantic, Major Praise!Kink

A/N:  This is complete Romantic FILTH.  There is no plot.  

                  A tired smile crossed your face when you waved at the security guard and went for the elevator.  After punching in the code you leaned against the wall, your penthouse seeming far away even though now you only had to wait for the elevator to rise.

                 Work was exhausting and you wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and drift off the sleep. Steve and Tony were on a mission, so the place would be quiet.  You frowned, hating it when they both left.  

                 The elevator came to a stop and you pushed off the wall.  To your surprise when the doors parted it was still dark in your place.  Then you spotted the candles, giving off a soft glow and creating a path.  

                 “What?”  You took a step inside.  

                 Rose petals were at your feet, scattered down the entire middle of the candlelit walkway.  Your heart jumped in your throat, eager to see what this meant.  

                 “Steve?”  You set your purse on the table by the door.  “Tony?”  

                 You followed the trail, not receiving an answer to your call.   It led up the stairs, and you worried about a fire hazard for a second, but then notices the candles weren’t real.  They were authentic though.  A smile forced its way on your face.  Tony.  

                 You hurried up the stairs faster.  They were home early.   When you made it to the bedroom you spotted Steve first.  You ran over to him and jumped up, throwing your arms around his neck.  

                 He lifted you in the air as you kissed him, long and deep.  It didn’t matter that he was so strong or that Tony was so armored, you always worried about your boys.  

                 “Hey Princess.”  The voice sent a shuddered down your body.

                 You went to break the kiss from Steve, but he brought his hand behind your head, holding you in place while his tongue parted your lips and dipped inside your mouth.  

                 “We missed you.”  Tony didn’t have any limitations from kissing.

                 His hand went to the top of your zippered dress and began dragging the metal down.   You let out a moan into Steve’s mouth and realized your hands were on his skin.  

                 Steve set you back on flat feet while Tony pushed the top of your dress down, letting it pool around your ankles.  

                 “Very nice Princess.”  Tony moved your hands back around Steve’s neck while his fingers traced your bra. “Listening even when we’re not here.  Good girl, I’m proud of you.”

                 You smiled at his praise.  Only wear matching sets.  This morning when you were getting ready it had been tempting to go for something more casual, but in the back of your head you wanted to please them, even if they were on a mission.  

                 Tony’s fingers undid the clasp of your bra and again you dropped your arms, letting it join the dress on the floor.  You felt Tony’s bare chest on your back as his fingers hooked under the sides of your panties and pulled them down.  You shimmied to help him along and found yourself clad in only your heels.  

                 Steve’s hands pushed his boxers down and you heard Tony do the same before both of them resumed their positions.   You felt Steve’s cock on your stomach while Tony’s smacked you in the ass.  

                 “How many times did you touch yourself while we were gone?”  There was a hint of teasing in Tony’s voice when his lips brushed against your shoulder.

                 You started to shake your head, but Steve had returned his hands to it, keeping you in place as he continued to massage his tongue to yours.

                 “You didn’t cheat?”  Tony kissed again as his fingertips rested on your hips.  “Not a once?”  

                 Again you moved your head, but Steve only kissed you harder, forcing your head back.  

                 “Well then you should be nice and wet for us.” Tony dipped his right hand forward and you parted your legs further.  

                 A gasp turned into a moan as he dragged up your slit and stopped at your clit.  

                 “I think she’s telling the truth, Cap.”  Tony pushed down on your bundle of nerves and gave a small rub.  “She’s soaked already.”

                 His left hand slid down your ass and underneath you, sliding into your pussy with such ease your body flushed with embarrassment.  

                 “I’m really proud of you Princess.”  Tony dragged his finger out before adding a second and pushing back inside.  If your mouth wasn’t on Steve’s you would be drooling all over the place.  “You’ve been such a good girl.  I think you deserve a treat?”  

                 You nodded as best you could and gave a muffled ‘Please’.  One of Steve’s hands left your head and came down with a swat on the side on your ass, making you jump forward.   Guilt flooded you.  You weren’t paying enough attention to him.  

                 “Oh Princess, are you more interested in kissing Steve or chatting with me?”  Tony’s hands disappeared from your pussy, making you cry out.  “Maybe you should show Steve how much you missed him.”  

                 Tony took a step back.  Steve turned so his back was to the bed. You shoved him down, knowing it was more of a show than you having any semblance of strength over the man.  

                 You started kissing, his chin, his neck, his chest. He kept his hand in your hair, looking down at you while you lowered yourself down his body.  

                 When you got to his cock he shifted, moving back on the bed so you were on all fours between his legs.   You fisted the sheets, knowing he preferred only your mouth.   Licking your lips you started at the base, running your tongue up the underside until you got to his head.  You took the tip into your mouth and let your saliva pool before trying to swallow more of him.  

                  “I think she missed me Tony.”  Steve raised an eyebrow.  “She does deserve that treat.”  

                 You gave a gargled thank you, which made your mouth vibrate and Steve’s cock twitch as you took more of him in.

                 “You’re welcome Doll.”  Steve smile sent waves of appreciation through you.   You lived for that look, approval.  He was pleased.  

                 “Well if you agree.”  Tony’s hands were back on your body, only this time there was a cool jell on one of his fingers.  “Lots to be proud of.”  

                 Tony’s right hand went underneath you, he cupped your sex, dipping a finger inside and pressing his palm to your clit.   It distracted you from Steve briefly but made your head fall further down his shaft.  You were getting closer to swallowing him all the way.  

                 “I think The Princess was so good while we were gone.”  Tony’s other hand ran down the crack of your ass.  “And I am so proud of her, that we should give her all the attention in the world.”  

                 A slick finger circled your tiniest hole.  You tried not to get too excited and keep your body relaxed as he pressed inside of you.  

                  “Would you like that Doll?”  Steve fisting your hair as you kept bobbing your head, trying to focus on him and not on the pleasure Tony’s hands were providing you.  

                 You nodded as best you could and mumbled the words ‘yes please’ unintelligibly around Steve’s cock.  He beamed down at you some more.  

                 Tony’s hands started to move faster, fingers sawing in and out of your holes, stretching you in tandem while the base of his palm rubbed against your clit.   You found yourself rocking against him, wishing the fingers were cocks and that you were grinding down on their bodies.  

               “I’m pretty proud of her too.”  Steve licked his lips.  “Being so good while we were gone.”  

                 More praise.  Steve’s words mixed with Tony’s hands were too much and you found yourself convulsing, the orgasm you hadn’t realized you were desperate for quaking forward.

                 You gagged around Steve’s cock as your head fell forward further than intended. The lack of oxygen only seemed to intensify your orgasm and for a moment you were sure you were going to pass out.  

                 But then hands were under your arms, hoisting you in the air.  To your surprise it was Tony, now kneeling on the bed, holding you up.   His lips crashed on to yours and you wondered if he was tasting Steve.  You loved the way the three of you could be together like this.  

                 “So proud of you.”  Steve was right behind you, now on his knees too.  

                 “Why?”  You dipped your head back and Tony’s mouth moved to your chest.  “I didn’t do anything?”  

                 “Because you’re you.”  Steve placed a light kiss on your mouth as Tony sucked a nipple into his mouth, making you arch your back.  “And because you’re ours.”  

                 The attention on your chest was short lived as Tony sat back, his legs underneath him.   Steve nudged you forward and you spread your legs, climbing up Tony’s thighs.

                 Tony wrapped an arm around your back and pulled you forward.  He fisted his cock and guided it inside of you, so thick and velvety, filling you in just the way you needed.   Your eyes rolled back in your head as you put your weight on him, unsure if you had the strength to take the top.  

                 But then you felt Steve at your back, and remember you wouldn’t have to worry about that.  They were going to take care of you.  You were so lucky.  

                 Tony’s hands slid to your cheeks and he tugged them apart, you arched your back eager to give him more access.  

                 “Ready?” Steve spoke to Tony who nodded his head.

                 You tried to relax, but pinched your eyes shut knowing it always stung at first.   Your fingernails gripped into Tony’s upper arms when Steve started his descent into your rear.  

                 It burned and you hissed, feeling every centimeter of Tony’s cock with each motion.  A whimper left your mouth and tears stung the corners of your eyes.  

                 “Doing so good Doll.”  Steve kissed your shoulder but didn’t stop pushing inside of you.  

                 “You’re the only one who can handle both of us.” Tony kissed the top of your head. “We’re both so proud of you.”  

                 You loved feeling this tight, this connected to both of them and knew the pain was fleeting and would be nothing compared to the pleasure.  

                 “So proud baby.”  Steve moved closer and you felt the gap closing.  “Almost there.”  

                 Your body started to shake from the strain, but you were also growing needy to have more friction.

                 “There we go.”  Steve’s pelvis rested on your ass.  “That’s a good girl.”  

                 Your heart felt like it was going to explode with the praise alone, but then Steve started to pull out and Tony clenched up, bumping against your cervix and sending a delicious tingle of pain and pleasure.  

                 Then Steve pushed in and Tony’s hands went to your hips as he relaxed on the bed, lifting you up slightly for Steve.   And so it began.  

                 The two worked together and knew how to handle you to the point you weren’t sure if moving your body was helping them or hindering. The pleasure started to get too much and you let out a moan.  

                 “Don’t worry Princess.”  Tony’s mouth kissed your chin.  “We’ve got you.”  

                 “Let us take care of you Doll.”  Steve brushed your chin as your head fell back against his chest.  

                 You did as you were told and let your body go limp between the two.  

                 “That’s it.”  Tony sucked on your collar bone.  

                 “Such a good girl.”  Steve’s blue eyes flashed with hunger.  

                 They sensed your complete relinquishment of control and started moving faster.  In and out, up and down.  Stuffed to the brim.  Every nerve ending you possessed came to life and you found yourself panting as they worked your body.  

                 The previous orgasm was nothing compared to the one they were building in your body.  Your head started to float away and you opened your mouth, unsure if you could remember how to breathe as the thing continued to develop in your core.

                 “Cum for us Princess.”  Tony lifted his head.  “Don’t hold it in.”  

                 “Let go Doll.”  Steve moved even faster.  “We’ll be so proud.”  

                 Again, the praise did you in.  The release crashed over your body as you withered between the two of them, collapsing forward onto Tony.  Your vision went black as every muscle in your body gave out, your pussy and ass clenching and unclenching around both cocks.  

                 The repositioned themselves without ever leaving your holes, Steve lifting you up while Tony untucked his legs.  

                 Soon you found yourself sprawled on Tony’s chest while Steve fucked your ass, with vigor making you bounce up and down on Tony’s cock in the process.  

                  “I’m gonna…I’m gonna..”  You didn’t even get it out before a second orgasm burst forward.

                 This one sent tremors through you and made it feel like you were a soul out of body, feeling sensations that should not be humanly possible.  It was too intense and your vision started to blur.  

                 Then the movement seemed to stop and mouth men grunted, a mix of sweat and moans surrounding you as your conscious left. The last thing you heard:

                 “So proud.”  

[smamrpmemes]

some songs from my playlists part two

simmer // hayley williams.

"rage is a quiet thing."

"you think that you've tame it, but it's just lying in wait."

"there's so many ways to give in."

"oh, how to draw the line between wrath and mercy?"

"gotta simmer down."

"wrap yourself in petals for armor."

my curse // killswitch engage.

"i watched you walk away."

"i strain my eyes, hoping to see you again."

"this is my curse."

"there is love burning to find you."

"will you wait for me? will you be there?"

"your silence haunts me, but i still hunger for you."

"and still i want and still i ache, but still i wait to see you again."

broken // lund.

"will you end my pain?"

"will you bleed me out?"

"will you hang me out to dry?"

"will you take my soul in the midnight rain?"

"while i'm falling apart, while i'm going insane."

"most people are searching for happiness."

"can you break my bones?"

"will you tear my skin?"

"can you taste my lust?"

"can you feel my sin?"

"wouldn't fix my issues or change your mind."

"cause i broke you heart and you buried my mind."

"now i'm six feet depe and i can't breathe."

"and now i'm on my knees, oh baby, begging please."

"we cannot choose the things that will happen to us, but we can choose the attitude we will take towards anything that happens to us."

"goodbye. don't you miss me when i'm gone."

"goodbye, cause you're the fucking reason that i'm not around."

broken crown // mumford & sons.

"i'll never be your chosen one."

"i'll be home, safe and tucked away."

'well you can't tempt me if i don't see the day."

"the pull on my flesh was just too strong."

"better not to breathe than to breathe a lie."

"cause when i open my body i breathe a lie."

"i will not speak of your sin."

"but, uh, my heart was flawed. i knew my weakness."

"so hold my hand, consign me not to darkness."

"i'll never wear your broken crown."

"i took the road and i fucked it all away."

"now in this twilight how dare you speak of grace."

"but in this twilight, our choices seal our fate."

i never told you what i do for a living // my chemical romance.

"you can say a prayer if you need to."

"can i meet you alone?"

"another night and i'll see you."

"another knife in my hands."

"clean me off, i'm so dirty, babe."

"so deep and down we go."

"i did it all so maybe i'd live this every day."

careful // paramore.

"you would have never known."

"i had it all, but not what i wanted."

"cause hope for me was a place uncharted and overgrown."

"you can't tell me to feel."

"the truth never set me free, so i did it myself."

"you can't be too careful anymore."

"you've got to reach out a little more."

"it's only the real world."

"you resist me just like this."

"you can't tell me to heal."

"and it hurts remember how it felt to shut down."

misguided ghosts // paramore.

"i'm goin' away for a while, but i'll be back."

"don't try and follow me."

"i'll return as soon as possible."

"see, i'm trying to find my place, but it might not be here where i feel safe."

"we all learn to make mistakes and run from them with no direction."

"cause i'm just one of those ghosts. travellin' endlessly."

"don't need no roads."

"and now i'm told that this is life."

"that pain is just a simple compromise."

"would someone care to classify our broken hearts and twisted minds?"

"the ones we trusted the most pushed us far away."

"but i'm just a ghost and they still echo me."

part ii // paramore.

"what a shame we all remain such fragile, broken things."

"still, there are darkened places deep in my heart."

"where once was blazing light, now there's a tiny spark."

"oh glory, come and find me."

"i'll be lost until you find me."

"what a mess, what a mystery we've made."

"i question every human who won't look in my eyes."

"scars left on my heart formed patterns in my mind."

"like the moon, we borrow our light."

"i am nothing but a shadow in the night."

let the flames begin // paramore.

"what a shame we all became such fragile, broken things."

"a memory remains, just a tiny spark."

"i give it all my oxygen to let the flames begin."

"somewhere weakness is our strength."

"i'll die searching for it."

"i can't let myself regret such selfishness."

"no matter how long, i believe there's hope buried beneath it all."

[quant-um-fizzx]

Swept Away

Synopsis: Bucky feels strangely drawn to a woman at a Halloween party thrown at the Avengers compound. 

Bucky Barnes x Reader. Except - not? There’s really no way to explain this upfront without giving the whole thing away. It is a nameless female character but it’s also not “fictional you” as a reader because I could not get that to work within this mystery concept. 

Warnings:  Smut, I’m calling this Dub-Con (but only in the sense that things might not be what they seem) Language, mild Angst, an attempt to be eerie. 

Word Count:  about 3000

This is for @sherrybaby14‘s Fall Into You writing challenge from the prompt: “Halloween Party”  

It’s loud like parties always are and Bucky welcomes a reason not to join in their bickering, no matter how playful. 

“It’s the principle, really.” Steve says, sniffs whatever Thor tipped into his glass this time. 

“Yes, that’s my point. Thank you. Don’t make a rule and then break it.” Rhodey gripes, adjusting the gold construction paper shooting star taped to the center of his shirt.

“I believe the rule as stated was ‘don’t spend more than $10 on a superhero costume.’ I spent zero dollars on this ensemble.” Tony gestures at the Mark 5 armor he’s wearing. “What we need is a neutral party analysis, who will then concur I am winning at not spending.”

Clint twirls an empty beer bottle between his fingers. “Look, I’m not saying that it’s cheating to come as yourself...”

“I sense a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” Nat says.

“I sense a butt right here,” Rocket chimes in. He’s dressed no differently, having openly complained he didn’t see the point and costumes sound more like some of the stupid shit Quill would be into. 

Steve flicks the deep red bed sheet pinned to the back of his shirt, making it swoosh around his feet, casually flipping what no one needs to know is Thor’s actual hammer. The group chatters on as he surveys the room, pausing when he spies Bucky in a far corner, his arm slipping artfully around the waist of a very pretty woman in a white post-Edwardian nightdress. She seems familiar but he can’t really get a good look at her and, considering Bucky’s clearly enthralled with her, he doesn’t think he should be trying to get a better look. They appear deep in conversation, the woman’s hair falling across her face like a curtain. It’s intimate, the way they lean in, and suddenly Steve feels like he’s intruding. He coughs and returns his attention back to the current debate. 

***

She curls further into his side, burrows her chilled shoulder down where he’s warm and snug. Her head falls back to look up at him with doe-eyes. He gets lost in them, irises so peaceful and deep, dark like still waters, like starless night sky. She runs her hand over the blue near-ancient canvas stretched across his chest, traces the white star with an elegant digit.

He leans in, almost captures her lips.  Forgets it’s not private. Like there’s no one else. Like there shouldn’t ever be. She offers her neck, bends so far back that it’s a bit unnatural, but he brushes the thought away. He shakes his head, tries to recall something. It seems important. Scratching at his brain. 

He stops, pulls back. His eyes pinch. He doesn’t know this woman. Doesn’t know anything about her. But he wants to. He wants to know her. Maybe that’s what he couldn’t remember. “What’s…” Runs his nose along her cheek. “What’s your name, Darlin’?”

Did she already tell him that? Did he already ask?

***

“Tell me again, how is coming as yourself and wearing your actual multi-million dollar suit not breaking the rules?” Nat saunters across the circle, grabbing a drink off the bar.

“I’m just saying, that since you were the guy who made the rule, it’s kinda weird that you’re the one breaking it.” Clint sets his bottle down with a clink that sounds a bit more irritated than he appears. 

“Point of order: Cap lent his costume to two people.” Tony feigns deep offense, gestures toward Scott.

“What? This? Nah, I hand-sewed this baby myself for Comic-Con years ago.” Scott stands proudly, hands heroically on his hips. 

Tony’s eyes roll back into his brain. “That still leaves Barnes and his circa WW2 Star-Spangled-ness? Care to explain the museum piece over there and the clothes he’s wearing while you’re at it?”

***

She smiles softly, delicate. Her features unbothered despite that it seems he’s forgotten her. Goes up on her toes and places cool fingertips on his fevered lips. Pushes her own together in a silent hush and he feels it in his gut - feels himself give in to something more than gravity pulling him down, twisting. He leans in toward those lotus-petal painted lips, almost...almost. 

She pulls back just a little. Smile shy, but somehow not. A little knowing. Knows a secret she’s going to show him. He doesn’t like secrets; he’s kept too many, he’s been too many. Doesn’t trust them. 

But he wants to know hers. Wants her. Needs to see where this leads. 

Her fingers entwine with his, pull him fluidly toward the exit door. 

And he forgets. Forgets they are leaving a brightly lit room, forgets there are people who might miss him, forgets everyone, everything but the promise of losing himself in her. 

***

Steve shrugs. “Bucky asked how much trouble it would be to borrow it. Turns out it wasn’t much trouble,” he says, pulling his eyes away from the door Bucky had disappeared through. 

“Excellent!” Tony claps. “Now that we can all agree the utilization of old suits is not a budget factor, let’s discuss what I am sure is a fascinating reason why Wilson here jumped on the opportunity to dress as a defunct Russian asset.”

Sam scoffs and pretends to smooth the aluminum foil wrapped around his left arm. “The Winter Soldier? Nah, my arm’s just dressed as a baked potato.” 

***

Her fingers swim up under his shirt and along each rib like organ keys. He’s draped over her, touching every inch, body covering her like a blanket, a pall. Their kisses swell and he dives when her mouth parts for him. At first a shallow exploration, his warm pink tongue skimming inside until she, impatient and sudden, curls into his mouth and catches it. 

The party and the lights feel a million leagues away. The sounds muffled and distant as if they’ve sneaked off to skinnydip not go necking in a backseat.

Lips and teeth banging, urgent. She’s under and around him all at once. Calling him to claim her like the open sea. 

Hot breath rushes from him as he pulls away and she floats up to follow but then settles back flat along the seat, smiling up at him. Hair splayed out around her face in waves and her face glowing like the moon. 

It registers with him that they’re in a parking lot, in the back of a car. It seems like new information, as if he had just realized. Must have been too busy kissing her, touching her because he doesn't know how they got here. Doesn’t remember clambering into the car. It’s large and old. A Studebaker? A Streamliner?

No, that can’t be right. 

***

“Hey, Mr. Stark. Cool Costume. Ned dressed as Mark 5 in 3rd grade.” Peter scurries up, acting slightly winded, as most of the crowd shoots daggers at him. “It, uh, it looks way better on you though.” He looks hopefully around, checking if that fixed whatever he’d said wrong. 

Shuddering, as if he’s just recalled what he’d come to say, Peter looks back quickly over his shoulder at the doorway Bucky and the woman walked out. “That’s all kinds of creepy. Just like that urban legend, right?”

“When it comes to questionable bed partners, I am spectacularly aware that I have no room to talk. But what is the deal with Steve’s pal and Coraline?” Tony gestures over his shoulder. “There’s a line between cute and creepy. But that one just runs a bit too realistic as The Woman in White.”

Steve looks between them and the door again. “The what?”

***

He presses his lips to her neck. Runs his tongue up a long trail to the shell of her ear.

Soft. He’s never felt anything so soft in his hands. Breasts like silt, spilling under his palms.  Soft every place he’s hard. He’s so hard, aching with it. Cock straining, reducing him down to that near-pain desire. He wants to bury himself between her thighs, drown himself inside her.

She pulls the gown free from her shoulders and it pools around her. She arches up to him. Offers. Urges. 

Insists. 

He licks his lips and wants more. Already can’t remember what she tastes like, saltwater or sweetened honey? He kisses her again, soft press against his tongue and he’s thirsty. Parched. Dives in for more but each touch leaves him wanting more. More heat. More water. More...air.

She’s under him and begging him. 

“Take me.”

Rouge tongue runs over chapped lips as he comes up for a breath. “You don’t have to ask me twice, Sugar.” He rasps, lungs seized up in want. 

Her hands dig into blue shoulders and her legs wrap around red and white stripes, clasping behind the small of his back. Pulling him down to her, pulling him under. 

Fog coats the windows. Their want dripping in rivulets down the glass. The air is thick with it, clings to his lungs, each breath heavy, laboring. 

“Hang on babe,” he pulls back, heart racing gulping down air. “Whew. Huh. Wow.” He looks around, squints, trying to get his bearings. “Gimme a sec, okay?”

She smiles again, sweet as rain. Shakes her head slowly, hair swirling around, a tangle of moss on the seat. Locks her hands behind his neck and digs her heels into his thighs.

She reaches down inside his pants and draws him out, a whisper caress on his length. Barely there, but possessive. Hers.

“Take me.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he gasps, breathless. Gasps as strokes him. “I’ll make it good, so good for you.” 

He wants her. Wants her like air. “Can’t wait. Gotta have you - now.”

She flips him over, deft like he weighs nothing and he floats beneath her. Straddles his hips and anchors him, grinding onto his cock. Her head falls back again, does that deep swoon to expose the marble column of her neck. And he feels again like he needs to stop her, to catch her head and stop her. To cradle her skull.

***

“I can tell you, Cap,” Sam says, leaning in conspiratorially, “but you and I are going to have a long chat later about how you manage to interact with other humans every day and still stay so damned isolated.”

Steve gives Sam a withering look but motions for him to continue. 

“The story goes, there’s a ghost that wanders the area. She fell for a guy years ago and got abandoned. The story changes in the details. Sometimes she died in childbirth, jumped off a bridge, whatever.  But one detail is always the same: heartbreaker was shipping off to war the next day. So, she, you know, ‘did it for her country.’ But the guy never comes back and she dies, waiting for him. Wandering the road leading to where they were last together.”

“Huh, that’s super weird,” Scott says, throwing back what he immediately learns is heavily-spiked cider, his eyes going wide on the burn. 

“Ghost stories are weird by definition, Scott” Nat says, licking the rim of her glass. 

“No,” Scott coughs, throwing back two more cider shots in quick succession. “I mean it’s weird because I picked her up on the road coming here. She asked all slow and dramatic about her soldier - I guess she is just super into Halloween - and I was gonna call her an Uber but then she said she was looking for Stark’s thing.”

Steve is incredibly done with this entire conversation. Peter, the exact opposite, presses for more info. “Which road?”

Sam shrugs dismissively. “The one by the old fairgrounds.”

Scott chokes on a fourth shot.  “Down in Queens.”

“You mean the fairgrounds where Stark held the first Expo?” Steve say, unblinking. All fun gone. 

Suddenly, Steve knows where he’s seen her. It’s just been a very, very long time since 1943.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Tony says, eyes locked on Steve. 

“Are you saying that I picked up a...a... ghost and rode with her for an hour? Guys...guys, I need to sit down.” Scott wobbles, hand shooting out to steady himself on Rocket. Rocket steps aside. 

Before Scott’s ass hits the floor, everyone else is out the door. 

***

She sinks down around him, fluid and silk. Her hands press into his chest. His warm muscles tense and brown nipples pebble in her touch’s wake. 

As she rides him, the night’s light behind her makes her hair look like a halo floating out around her. A thought breaks through that she looks familiar - he does know her - but she’s just one more thing he lost along the way. 

He wants to tell her they can make this new, start over, whatever went wrong before, he can fix it and it wasn’t his fault and didn’t mean to leave her and please forgive him because he didn’t mean to toss her away.

Wait.

Wait...

He recalls a flash of her face, dry and bright. She’s looking up at him in his brown uniform. Red car hovering on a stage behind her. Then, as suddenly as it came, the picture’s gone, popped like a burst bubble.

***

Steve and Sam are first out the back, toward the dock. Peter has a legit meltdown but still manages to check every car. They’re all empty.

“Cap! There!” Clint shouts, pointing out at the water. 

The middle of the goddamn lake.

In the goddamn, deathly still, dark lake.

***

She glides over him and it’s so desperate and slippery. Everything urgent when all he’d really wanted is to take his time. To do this right. Bring her some daisies  - or, no, she'd like lilies he thinks dumbly and runs his hands up to cup her face. He wants to show her a good time before his ships out in the morning and see if she has a different friend for Steve. 

The guilt is raw and burrowing in his heart he can’t shake it but he doesn’t quite know why. 

Maybe that’s her secret. What she wanted to show him. 

Maybe it’s that she deserves better than this back seat in a parked car outside Stark’s expo. He starts to say sorry but is silenced with another watery kiss.

Burning starts low in his back, the building pull low in his spine, and he wants to come. Desperate for his end. 

 Maybe it’s too much because she can have it all she can have him and he’s not scared - but a small spark fires some forgotten place in his mind, that he is scared - that maybe he should be.

Sliding over him, bend and rock. Tight. He surges up into her again and again. His release looms, vision tunneled down to her. Nothing but her and the sweet hold, the way she’s anchored him down after so many years adrift. 

He thinks blindly that he should warn her. Opens his mouth but she swallows his words. 

Then he’s coming, pulsing out of him like lifeblood. Breathless and drained. And he’s so tired. 

Peaceful. Serene. 

“Take me,” she sings.

He can’t hold on. Body aches for rest. 

Her brow furrows. “Take me home.”  

His eyes flutter. He starts to form the words, but just...can’t. 

He would’ve taken her home and not left. He didn’t mean to make it seem like it must have seemed. He didn’t just throw her away. But it was war and he wasn’t expecting the hell it brought or the hell that came after. It had all seemed so innocent in that old back seat, with his promises he didn’t mean to break.

She grinds down, damned serum refractory period kicking in. He swells against all reason and moves with her until she shakes and clenches, nails digging into his skin, a mournful wail spiraling out of her as he feels himself spill again. 

She touches his neck, feels his pulse stutter out, slow.  Her face is confused. Head shaking. 

He takes her hand, holds it to his heart. An apology. 

Then, she rails back, wretches and twists. She slips through his fingers like time, like silk, like thread.  

What was once solid, warm like new sun on a cold sill, now shifts. Contorts and writhes, skin viscus and pooling around his fingers like so much rancid dough. 

He wants to care but he wants to sleep. Just rest his eyes. Just for a second. It doesn’t feel right but he can’t make himself care. It’s so quiet and peaceful, down here where she used to be solid, where he used to be warm.

***

Then, when he’s almost gone, when peace has fired off in nearly every cell, he’s yanked free. 

Colder than he’s ever been. Night air like a fire burning, like he is nothing but frostbite dropped in a boiling pot.

Sam drags him up onto the dock and collapses beside him. Sam’s face is drawn and terrified and their clothes soggy and weighted, water running off between the wooden planks.

“The Hell Barnes? Party full of perfectly available, alive folk and that’s the strange you go for.”

[930club]

ALBUM REVIEW: Hayley Williams — Petals For Armor

“I came close to stifling my creative process because I didn’t want to live up to those expectations of what it looks like when a female leaves a band and makes a project on her own,” Hayley Williams of Paramore shared with the New York Times. With production insight and moral guidance from fellow bandmate Taylor York, Williams shared a story only she can tell: Petals For Armor. This album, which is her first solo release outside of Paramore, radiates a unique cycle of loss and love and acoustic noise, first simmering with rage and fear and then gracefully freeing itself from the past.

In the opening track “Simmer,” she runs away hastily, as her own fears chase her through Tennessean woods. The bassline presses forward and she expresses how rage manifests itself, with slow-burning verses: “Rage is a quiet thing / Ooh, you think you’ve tamed it / But it’s just lying in wait / Rage, is it in our veins? / Feel it in my face when / When I least expect it.” “Simmer” compounds the singer’s perennial thoughts and vexations “born out of a generational trauma,” compiling them into a pulsating memory that quietly collects all the pieces.

The anger in “Simmer” partly derives from her feeling belittled by the 2000s emo scene and experiencing misogyny firsthand. But with time and grace, she ultimately sings “wrap yourself in petals for armor,” a mantra that controls her grudges and finds comfort within femininity. “Being a woman in the music industry is not often a conversation I love to have. It’s just my existence.”

Likewise, she enlists Mike Weiss from the post-hardcore band mewithoutYou on the fourth track “Creepin’.” The song interprets part of reality as vampiric — the kind that sucks out all the energy and joy that’s been built up.

But by using writing as her therapy, she’s able to cast her worries away and sing about “Cinnamon,” an “ode to my home,” a literal safehouse that percussively sways as it continues to evolve: “I’m not lonely, baby, I am free / Mmm, finally.”

Unlike “Cinnamon,” and the homebody approach to healing, “Leave It Alone” and “Dead Horse” harbor distinct moods and approach divorce in two separate ways. The second tracklisting “Leave It Alone” spatially slows, unrushing drums and vocals to only spiral into itself and cocoon, struggling to branch outside all of the grief: “It tastes so bitter on my tongue / The truth’s a killer / But I can’t leave it alone.” In contrast, the intro in the catchy groove “Dead Horse” tries to “rid myself of the shame,” by revealing her deep guilt for being “the other woman”: “Alright, it took me three days to send you this, but / Uh, sorry, I was in a depression / But I’m trying to come out of it now.”

Part of growing from trauma is also having subtle jolts of desire — those fixations on immediate wants. At first, Williams felt “comfortable with the idea of being single, but when I was waking up to new desires and feeling like, ‘Oh s--t, I may be jumping back in…’ it excited me. And it scared me, too.” “Sudden Desire” ranges in softness and loudness, exploring the singer’s initial feelings and wants in the wake of her own evolution.

A lot of her power, too, comes from seeking outside support. “My Friend” attributes her close friend Brian O’Connor, where she shares the value of having someone on your side, all through life’s ups and downs. In the chorus, she sings, “My friend, when the blood has dried / My friend, instant alibi / You’ve seen my from every side / Still down for the ride / Ooh, my friend, you know why.”

Williams knows that she’s not alone in all of this, and that idea also transcends in “Roses/Lotus/Violet/Iris,” an immersive ballad that highlights harmonies from boygenius, using a garden to feel empowered when diving deep into her feminine roots. Similarly, “Over Yet” continues to process everything and seek closure, proactively believing that there’s another side to “resistance.”

“Why We Ever” is the record’s rite of passage. Reverb guitar reaches an all-time calm, disconnecting her from the past with its intimate instrumentals and wise words: “And now I / Can’t seem to remember why / We ever / Felt we had to say goodbye.”

“Pure Love,” “Taken,” and “Sugar on the Rim” follow, each song upbeat and untangled from worries. “Pure Love” unfolds a jazz sequence, embracing the strange tango between love and togetherness: “I give a little, you give a little / We get a little sentimental.” Likewise, Williams assures that she’s “Taken,” a playful epilogue to her romantic tale. “Sugar on the Rim,” the most deviant track from the collection, experiments with love as aromatic, a bittersweet thing, just like Crusta cocktails: “Do you taste old shame when you lick my wounds? / ‘Cause I feel redeemed in spite of you.”

The outros, “Watch Me While I Bloom” and “Crystal Clear,” spark rejuvenation. Using her same floral motif, the cheerful dance “Watch Me While I Bloom” translates to “feeling biologically connected to myself again…” The slow, ethereal “Crystal Clear” intertwines boxy reverb with delicate harmonies, as Williams moves forward, unscathed: “Crystal clear / I won’t give in to the fear.”

Hayley Williams’ journey through grief and loss and then love is a powerful listening experience, especially when heard in her own words and narratives. That’s why there’s great depth to this record. Petals For Armor is her own intimate collection of meditative ballads, introspective diction, and reinvented sounds that mirror her life’s journey. It took years of struggle to let this all unfold. The outcome? Profound.

— Jackie Reed

[skywalkerresources]

PETALS FOR ARMOR SENTENCE STARTERS, PART 1 taken from hayley williams’ solo album. some wording has been slightly altered. change pronouns if necessary. 

SIMMER

“rage is a quiet thing” “it’s just lying in wait” “is it in my veins?” “give in” “there’s so many ways to give in” “how to draw the line between wrath and mercy?” “if my child needed protection from a fucker like that man...” “i’d sooner gut [pronoun]” “nothing cuts like a mother” “wrap yourself in petals for armor”

LEAVE IT ALONE

“don’t nobody tell me that god don’t have a sense of humor” “i want to live” “everybody around me is dying” “the ones i love are dying” “becoming friends with a noose that i made” “make it into something useful” “it tastes so bitter on my tongue” “the truth’s a killer” “i can’t leave it alone” “you don’t remember my name some days” “it triggers my worry” “who else am i gonna lose before i am ready?” “who’s gonna lose me?” “if you know love you best prepare to grieve” “let it enter your open heart” “prepare to let it leave”

CINNAMON

“on the walls of my home there are signs that i’m alone” “i keep on every light” “talk to my dog he don’t mind” “eat my breakfast in the nude” “home is where i’m feminine” “smells like citrus and cinnamon” “i’m not lonely” “i am free” “if i let you in you would never want to leave”

CREEPIN’

“batty pair of eyes creepin’” “poor little vampire baby” “we bleed holy water” “so why you creepin’ round here?” “strange you’re not a threat to me” “i admire your dedication” “i’m a moon in daylight” “it always starts as something so simple and innocent” “too much of anything you’ll never know how to quit” “you had a taste but you don’t want to forget it” “just keep on suckin’ on the memory of [pronoun]”

[vercopaanir]

Chapter 26 Sneak Peek

The Lovely Moons Preview

A leather gloved hand touches the back of your neck, and you flinch so violently that you knock a holopad off the shopkeeper’s counter. Din yanks his hand back, stilling at your reaction, and your face crumples when you realize you have once again floated away from the present, tangled in dreams that won’t leave while you wake and grief that won’t be shaken. You apologize profusely to the clearly annoyed vendor, kneeling down to gather the holopad and return it to its place on the counter that boasts the finest leathers and fabrics in the weapons shop. 

“Cyare?” 

You turn, feeling forlorn and dejected to face the armored man who holds a securely wrapped infant in one arm, his other hand hanging low near his holstered blaster. You blink up into his visor, a small sigh leaving you. 

“Would you like to sit while I finish here?” he asks, his voice so soft it’s hardly louder than a rasp. 

You nod meekly, taking the baby when he passes the child into your arms, and one hand touches your back to lead you to a small bench in the corner of the store. He watches you for a moment while you pull his cloak firmer around your shoulders before turning and making his way back to finish his bargain for ammunition. 

You had left Nevarro two days ago, stealing away in the hours before dawn when the world slept and time moved like sap down the bumpy bark of a tree. You had been so exhausted, so heavy in your heart that Din had to pry you away from the mumbling children when you had whispered your goodbyes. Corde had been excited for your adventure, as she called it, wanting to hear everything upon your return. Venka had hugged you until it nearly grew uncomfortable, but that morning, they had been too sleepy to truly be sad, something you were thankful for. Din had shuffled you and the child into his bed on board the Razor Crest, carrying you halfway when your knees buckled from exhaustion, and you had slipped into a tearful rest.

No amount of sleep helps. You know through rationality that leaving Corde and Venka in the care of the covert, under the protection of Paz Vizla is the wisest choice. You could not live if either of them were hurt because of your selfishness, but you did not consider how much you would mourn how silent the ship is now, how lonely it feels.

You have not left Din’s side, aware of how needy you are to follow him around like a lost kitten when he tinkers beneath a panel or goes into the hull to retrieve a tool. He says nothing to deter you, seeming just as listless as you are, but you almost wish he would. You think it would be better if he spoke harshly, snapping you back into place like a fractured bone. 

The baby seems even worse off than either of you. He sits at your feet, his petal shaped ears hanging dolefully as he rolls his durasteel ball against the wall so it will bounce back toward him. He turns his large, watery eyes up to you, and you scoop him up, not realizing how close to tears you are yourself. The two of you perch on either co-pilot seat at all hours, seeking the closeness your Mandalorian brings even with his back to you, piloting the ship through asteroid belts and over rings of different planets.