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heaven-with-mark · 4 years

Text

"long day."

it had been... too long of a day. far too long. too many disastrous things. being cat-called simply for being an omega. being eyed up and down just walking by people, their gaze making you uncomfortable as you tried to hurriedly get away. there was a lot of driving done, driving all over just trying to figure stuff out. stops by the phone store to change plans, having to pop into the pet store to grab dogfood for chica and henry, and mark wanted a few things from the store while you were out.

you were dragging your feet to the front door, grocery bag full of mark’s thing seemingly so much heavier than it really was. the door was unlocked when you tried the handle, much to your delight. you didn’t want to bother fishing your keychain back out of your pocket. there was a moment of peaceful silence after the door clicked shut behind you, then: chaos.

chica bolted to the door and nearly knocked you down, and then immediately after, the sound of glass shattering in the kitchen followed, and then to top it off, henry got too playful with the bag you were holding and the bottom of it ripped, spilling the contents to the floor.

you shoved chica off you with more force than you wanted, and she backed away with her tail tucked between her legs like she was in trouble. henry flinched back when chica was pushed, leaving you to the mess he had made on the floor.

it took one long, deep breath and a moment of eyes closed before you got to picking all of the items up, barely able to carry everything in your arms. you toted your alphas things into the kitchen, where he was standing at the edge looking down at the floor. setting things down as you peeked over the counter, you had to clench your jaw when you saw one of the coffee mugs shattered across the entirety of the hardwood.

panic flooded you on instinct at the sight of drops of blood dribbled on the floor, your head shooting up to look at mark because it had to be from him. his left hand was wrapped up in a towel, clutched tightly with the other. mark looked at you, giving you a nervous look.

you forgot about all else, just worried about taking care of your wounded alpha.

“move the towel.” you asked softly, cupping his hand in both of yours.

he let you move the towel, and his cut was worse than you hoped for. it spanned from the juncture between this thumb and index finger, running along the underside of his hand to just under his pinky. blood welled dark and red as soon as it was uncovered, indicating it was deeper than you thought.

mark caught on to your distressed scent before you did. you always got the worst panic whenever he was even remotely injured, even if it was just a tiny scratch. this wound was worth worrying so much over, and he knew that.

“baby, i’m sure it’ll be fine.” he tried to calm you down, the distress coming from you was making more of the alpha side of his front.

you ignored him, “go to the bathroom and wash this off, i’ll be in there in a second to wrap it.”

he scoffed, not used to the fact that his omega was very clearly giving him an order.

the look you gave him in response would have put him six feet under. he mumbled something you couldn’t quite catch as he made his way to the downstairs bathroom, but you didn’t ask him to repeat it, you had to clean up this mess before you could do anything else.

you fetched the broom from the hall closet, careful while sweeping up the shattered porcelain. despite having shoes on and being safe from the shards, you didn’t want any pieces to get stuck and end up tracked around the house.

sweeping the broken mug into the dustpan, you sighed heavy through your nose. of course there was going to be more to do when you got home, there always was with your clumsy alpha.

you dumped the dustpan, putting it and the broom away after so you could go tend to mark. the water wasn’t running anymore, but when you got to the doorway, you found him pulling out all of the things you’d need to clean him up.

“there, you can do this now, will you please calm down?” he pleaded, instincts making him worried because of the heavy scent that rolled off you.

“i’ll calm down when i’m done.” you snapped, unintentionally giving him the first indication you weren’t okay right now.

he stayed silent while you tended to him, stood between his legs. you put down neosporin, then a layer of gauze, and finished it off with wrapping a bandage around his hand a few times, trying to wrap it where he could still use his hand. you gave his hand a look-over, making sure everything fit snug and right.

“baby, it’s fine, you did a good job.” he praised, pulling you closer with his arms around you, holding you tight.

you let him hold you for a second, his face tucked into your neck as he crooned and tried desperately to calm you down. having a second for the first time that day to just sit and not doing anything, you realized just how tired you were. your bones themselves felt heavy, your feet ached. as helpless as you were against it, your eyes drooped.

“omega.” mark murmured, pulling himself away.

you opened your eyes, confused. you forgot the last time he called you by your dynamic.

“are you okay?” he asked, doing a cute little head tilt that caught you off guard for a second.

you just shrugged. you didn’t want to lie to him, but you didn’t want to talk about it. not right now. you didn’t have anything to hide but if you tried venting, you were absolutely going to start crying. and you know he knew you too well, he knew the exact same as you did.

he sat and stared at you for a second, probably thinking.

“i want you to go upstairs and change into comfy clothes,” he stood up and gently guided you backwards, “and i’ll clean up the glass.”

you stopped him before he even got to the doorway, “i already cleaned it up, babe.”

he gave you a look that mothers scold their children with. but, you didn’t want to stick around for him to get on you for cleaning his mess. you’d just blame it on omega instinct telling you to ‘serve your alpha and clean up after him’. you pushed past him and trotted upstairs, planning on putting comfy clothes on before he even asked you to.

you were in sweats and one of his hoodies, tucked under the blanket when mark finally came upstairs. you mentally prepared yourself, knowing he was going to make you talk. he hated you being upset, and as much as you didn’t want to talk, the two of you both knew it would make you feel better.

although, you did already feel a little better after getting comfortable. most of it came from wearing mark’s hoodie that was drenched in his scent, and naturally it calmed you down.

he stopped in the doorway, loving the fact you were in his hoodie, loving how small you looked with it on.

you stretched your arms out, making grabby hands and purring. you wanted to just cuddle and forget about today, and he wasn’t helping with just standing and staring.

he ducked into bed, scooping you into his arms, “oh my perfect, precious little omega.”

you loved the praise but still felt flushed upon hearing it, not the type of person who could accept compliments easily.

“now, baby, you gotta tell me what happened today.” mark said, leaving no room for arguing.

tears sprung to your eyes from simply thinking about it. you cuddle up closer, feeling a little more at ease with the deep rumbles almost vibrating through his chest as he started crooning in your ear again.

“well... there was a lot of alphas and jerk betas at the store today... you know that didn’t end well. got cat-called and stared at. had to run around town all day, popping into a bunch of shops. your stuff is on the counter,” you had to pause and take a breather before remembering something, “shit! the dogfood is still in the car!”

mark didn’t like the idea of other men, other alphas too, even looking in your direction, let alone making snide comments towards you. he was always one to be possessive. but, for now, he wouldn’t do anything about it. usually he’d spend a fair amount of time, hours usually, scenting you. he would mark you up often, which you displeased of. but, for now in this moment, his cloak hoodie drenching you in his scent would be enough for him. it even covered almost all of your scent.

“i’m so sorry you had a bad day sweetheart.” mark cooed, holding you tighter as he kissed your forehead.

he followed up, “do you want me to make you something to eat? do you wanna watch tv? do you want to shower? either alone or with me, it’s always your choice.”

you just shook your head, purring into his chest quietly, a strong wave of your happy scent drifting around the room.

“just wanna sleep. i’m exhausted.” you yawned, eyes fluttering shut as mark pulled the blankets over the two of you.

he stroked a hand through your hair for awhile, and you fought to stay awake. as tired as you were, you adored the feeling of being so close to your alpha. the crooning, his soft touch, his scent, how warm he always was. you never wanted moments like these to end.

you were startled awake and halfway out of your skin when one of the dogs jumped onto the bed, landing just shy of your foot. your head shot up to see what scared the hell out of you, and mark shushed you and pulled you back down to him.

the sudden bitter scent of a scared omega was pungent even to you, and you had grown used to your own scent. it must be so bad for mark, his instinct had to be yelling at him to do something.

chica settled down just behind mark, and you closed your eyes, trying to calm your mile-a-minute heart. you shoved your face into mark’s chest, letting his scent and warmth do wonders to your inner omega. it did take awhile for your heart to settle, but once it did, you couldn’t keep yourself awake this time. you slowly drifted off, lulled to sleep only with the presence and touch of your alpha.

//feel better bb @marks-right-tibby//

#this is 1800 words #alpha!markiplier #markiplier x reader #mark fischbach x reader #omegaverse #omega!reader

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moonflowerlesbians · 3 years

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41 and 45 please. Just can't get enough of your stories

first of all you're so sweet 🥺 second, I did these and I batched in another one for a longer story and the obligatory soft nightmare fic, so I hope that's okay :)

18. "I'm embarrassed." "Don't be." 41. "Is that my shirt?" "Is...is that okay?" 45. "Don't say anything. Just...just lay here with me."

cw for mentions of child abuse

~~~

The motel bed is empty when Dani drifts awake, feeling in the dark for the warm mass that indicates Jamie is sound asleep beside her. Instead, empty air and rumpled sheets greet her, and she frowns. Still lingering in that semi-sweet state of half-consciousness, somewhere between dream and reality, she registers the shadow of the bathroom light through the crack in the door, which stands slightly agape.

Ah.

She rolls over, tugging the duvet over her exposed arms and sparing a quick glance at the clock on the nightstand 3:27 a.m., it reads. Dani yawns and readjusts the pillow supporting her neck. The doctor had said it would help with the stiffness in her shoulders and upper back in the morning, said she had a tendency to sleep curled up like she was protecting herself. Unsurprising, she had thought at the time.

Long minutes pass, faint moonlight trickling through sheer curtains to adorn the carpeted floors with tigerstripes of silver and blue. Dani rolls over again, flipping onto her stomach, her arm coming to rest alongside her head. Jamie’s pillow remains vacant. Dani sighs.

The floor is bracing beneath her bare feet, and she recoils, suddenly regretting the decision to leave the relative warmth of the blankets. Steeling herself, she pads across the room. Dim light filters under the bathroom door, and she can make out muted noises from within.

“Hey,” Dani says quietly, giving the wood three light raps with her knuckles. “You okay?” The noises stop.

“’M fine,” Jamie’s voice comes muffled through the door. “Y’can go back to bed.”

Another night, maybe, Dani would have listened. Another time, perhaps, if she had not spent weeks, months, learning the intricacies and peculiarities of Jamie’s vocal pattern, Dani would have returned to the comfort of their queen bed and fallen back into a pleasant sleep. At another time, maybe, Dani would have ignored the hoarseness of Jamie’s voice, the sandpaper-rough scratch of the syllables against her throat, the subtle distress cloaked in a layer of false nonchalance.

Dani rests her forehead against the cool wood, the metal of the doorknob in one hand. “Can I come in?”

Silence, for a moment, then shuffling. The click of an unlatched lock. “Yeah.”

She inches the door open. Jamie sits on the floor of the bathtub, knees drawn up to her chest. Strands of brown hair are sweat-matted to her forehead, others sticking up haphazardly, streaked through with shaky finger lines. Grey eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, with a tired stare that wrenches at Dani’s heart.

“You got room in there for one more?” Dani says gently, crossing to crouch on the tile floor.

Jamie breathes shakily. “Sure.” She slides to make room for Dani, who sits cross-legged, her knees bent at a slightly awkward angle due to the nature of the tub. From this new perspective, she can see the piece of fabric balled tight between Jamie’s thighs and her chest.

“Is that my shirt?”

Jamie swallows, a flash of alarm flickering across her features, and her voice is small, so small and so, so frail. “Is... is that okay?”

Dani’s brow furrows. “No, um, yes, yeah, that’s... that’s okay.”

Jamie mumbles something that Dani doesn’t quite catch.

“Sorry?”

“Was in the dirty pile, so I thought... Doesn’t matter. Should’ve asked.” She can’t quite meet Dani’s gaze, and she’s gripping the lilac sweater so hard her knuckles have gone white.

“No, it’s okay. It’s fine,” Dani says, trying her very best to sound reassuring and not as though she’s talking to a cornered animal.

Jamie has not been forthcoming when it comes to information about herself, not since the night before... well. It has been nearly four months since leaving Bly, and Dani feels a bit like an archaeologist, uncovering fragments of a broken past little by little. Some days, she finds nothing, not even an arrowhead, something to point her in the right direction. Other days, it is as if she discovers a bit of parchment thought lost to civilization, a scrap of knowledge to help translate the whole. A perfectly preserved piece of Jamie in the form of a passport, a solitary photograph from a time Jamie no longer speaks of, the dogeared pages of a beat-up paperback.

“Do you think,” Dani begins, cautious, slow, “you could tell me...why?” There is an out she leaves. A minute shake of Jamie’s head, and she would back away, drop the subject at her feet for another day.

Jamie peers at her through clumped lashes. “Which bit?” She asks with a sardonic sort of chuckle, swiping at her nose. “The bit about your jumper or the bit about being a blubbering mess at three in the goddamn mornin’.”

“Both, if you’re up for it.”

Jamie studies her, blinking in the hazy light as though searching for something, like she expects Dani to laugh as if she’s the butt of a sorry joke.

“Yeah,” she says at last, “yeah, okay.” She takes a shuddering breath. “Told you ‘bout bein’ in the system, foster and prison, yeah?”

Dani watches her intently, hands in her lap, an expression of concern firmly situated on her face. She nods, though she knows only the bare minimum. They skirt precariously around the topic when it comes up.

The extent of her knowledge comes from studying Jamie’s reactions to her environment. The way she shirks from loud noises. The clatter of plates breaking in a restaurant, an engine backfiring in an alley. The way she scans every room before she enters, eyes lingering on corners and curtains, and checks the backseat of their rental car. The way she hoards buttons and pop tabs and coins at the bottom of her suitcase, and the way she methodically counts her things before they leave any motel and recounts them when they arrive at their destination.

Habits formed out of necessity in a life of cruelty, a life in which letting her guard down could mean the difference between life and death. A life she no longer lives, but a life that stays with her all the same.

“Had a dream,” Jamie says carefully, her voice almost too loud in the stillness of the morning, “Hardly remember the details now, but... Think I was in my third home. Fourth, maybe. The dad was a drunk. You could always smell it on his breath. Heavy footsteps you could hear coming.” She glances at Dani. “I couldn’t hear him this time. I think he threw a bottle at me, not sure, though. I couldn’t move, couldn’t yell, couldn’t fight back.” Her chest heaves, and Dani reaches out, then thinks better of it. She retracts her hand, leaving it palm-up on her knee for Jamie to take if she chooses.

“Hate being trapped,” she whispers, eyes darting around the bathroom, “Spent too long in places I couldn’t get out of.” She tentatively takes Dani’s hand, still avoiding eye contact. “I woke up ‘n still couldn’t breathe. Didn’t want to wake you up, so I came here.” She fiddles with the tag on Dani’s sweater, murmuring, “It’s not the same, but it was close enough. Smells enough like you that I could pretend.” At last, she looks up, waterline shining with unshed tears. “Bloody embarrassing.”

“Oh, baby...” Dani croons softly, squeezing her outstretched hand. “Can I... Is it okay if I hold you?”

Jamie sniffles, but nods her assent with a heavy sigh. Dani shifts so that she’s reclining against the slope of the tub, with Jamie comfortably settled between her legs, curled on her side, with her head on Dani’s chest. The sweater is pressed between them, the material grasped tightly in Jamie’s fist.

Dani weaves her fingers through the hair at the nape of Jamie’s neck, lightly scratching her scalp with blunt nails. Jamie shivers at the contact.

“’M embarrassed,” Jamie mumbles into the bunched fabric of Dani’s pajama top.

“Don’t be,” Dani says simply, her head resting on the white shower tile. She cannot tell if the flush rising to Jamie’s cheeks is because of the sweater or waking up in the middle of the night or both, and frankly, Dani decides, it does not matter.

It’s unusual, seeing Jamie like this. Vulnerable. Raw. Dani can count the number of times she’s seen Jamie cry on two fingers.

Once, in the aftermath of the lake, they had held each other close in the lamplight of Dani’s bedroom at Bly and wept for all that had happened and all they had lost, great heaving sobs that tore through walls and rafters and flesh and bone.

The second time, just now, with Jamie trembling in her arms.

She takes such measures to remain steadfast, resolute in her dependability, all hard angles and rigidity. A suave exterior carefully constructed to deter those who would attempt to breach her defenses. Cannons on the parapet he keeps loaded with snark and bite and sturdy shoes, ready to flee at the first sign of danger.

She had opened up to Dani, though, a privilege Dani does not vilipend. Took the risk and raised the portcullis to allow Dani to pass through to the inner walls, closer to the center, but not quite there. There was more to discover, Dani knew then and knows now, but patience is vital. Stability. The reassurance that she means no harm.

“Can...Why’d you think you needed my permission?” Dani clarifies, “For my sweater.” Jamie stirs against her, the weight warm and familiar.

“Don’t take things without asking,” Jamie recites despondently, and the weight of the statement catches Dani off-guard. The resignation in her tone, the rhythm of the words are indicative of a phrase spoken over and over again, well-worn and thoroughly beaten into the track of her mind.

(Perhaps, Dani fears in some dark corner of herself, it was not only Jamie’s mind. She thinks of trainers with holes in the sole, bits of cheese swiped from the refrigerator and promptly hidden, and wonders about a little girl left with no one but herself and callous adults who neglect and belittle.)

Dani finds herself shaking her head.

“It’s okay,” she says into the crown of Jamie’s head, her breath rustling wayward strands. “I mean, I’d appreciate a heads up if you want to borrow something of mine just so I don’t think something’s gone missing, but for this?” She pauses, choking on an inconvenient swell of emotion. “God, please, take it. Or wake me up or something, but... you’re not alone.”

Jamie is still, her breath coming in slow, measured puffs against Dani’s chest.

Dani tries, “Most of my stuff isn’t really your style, anyway. Not that I think you couldn’t rock a pink turtleneck.” She considers. “Actually, I’d kind of like to see that.”

The mental picture earns her a wet laugh from Jamie, and that is enough for now, Dani thinks.

“But, you know, if this happens again -- you wake up in the middle of the night -- please, wake me up, too, okay?”

“Still getting used to you, ‘s’all.”

“I know, baby, I know.”

They lay there in the bottom of the questionable motel bathtub until the quiver of Jamie’s shoulders recedes into a steady enough rhythm, in time with the rise and fall of Dani’s chest.

“Come on,” Dani nudges, “think you want to get back in bed?”

“Shit,” Jamie jolts upwards, taking them both by surprise, “God, sorry. Sorry. I’ve kept you up long enough.”

“No, no,” Dani assures, running a hand along Jamie’s upper arm, “I just thought the mattress might be more comfortable for you than I am.”

“Unlikely,” Jamie scrutinizes. She rubs her eyes once more and climbs out of the tub, offering a hand for Dani to lift herself up, which proves more difficult than anticipated on account of Dani’s leg having fallen asleep. She wraps an arm around Jamie’s waist, separating for an instant to nestle beneath cool sheets, then finding each other again.

“Sorry,” Jamie says to the darkness, the hum of the radiator providing the rattling soundtrack to her unnecessary apology.

“Shh,” Dani soothes, her nails spelling out words from covert languages on the skin of Jamie’s back, “Don’t say anything. Just… just lay here with me. We’ll talk in the morning.” Jamie’s grip tightens on her shirt. “Try to get some rest, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

She brushes the ghost of a kiss along Jamie’s hairline, smoothing down the wisps that tickle her nose.

4:14 a.m., the clock reads.

Dani does not close her eyes until she feels Jamie’s muscles slacken, the tension leaching away into cotton and dream. Then, and only then, does she allow sleep to claim her.

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akoumi · 3 years

Text

lil mwad piece for valentine’s day!!!

id under the cut:

We have to leave before the snow gets worse. All around me, people work, loading up tents and weapons up onto their carts and horses. It isn’t enough. It’s early in the morning and everyone’s moving as fast as possible to get going already, but I can already tell that the snow is going to be a problem.

I pull my coat tighter around my shoulders, stamping my feet to get rid of the cold seeping into my boots. I’ve spent twenty winters here and yet, this has been one of the coldest winters I’ve ever experienced, and it hasn’t let up yet. It’s bad news for us.

Speaking of the cold — I look over, scanning for Pavel. I catch sight of him a moment later, hurrying right over towards me. He’s so small compared to the musclebound fighters around him, wrapped in several layers of my shirts and coats and socks. Only his dark eyes are visible, his mouth and nose covered by scarves and the top of his head obscured by the large, fluffy hood of his coat.

“Did you wear the extra shirts I gave you last night?” I sniff as he stops in front of me, skidding a little on the ice. He bumps lightly into me, and I steady him.

Pavel beams, and nods. He pulls the scarves around his mouth down to his chin to speak. “It’s cold,” he admits. “But the extra layers helped a lot. Thank you, Sascha.” Despite being protected by the scarves, his nose is still red from the cold, and I frown. I’ll have to find some better scarves for him.

“You put on the leggings? And the socks?” I prompt. “It’s a long journey in the snow, and I don’t want you to freeze.” He certainly looks like he put on everything I left for him this morning — he practically had to waddle over to me.

Pavel nods again, and pulls back the sleeve of his coat to reveal the several layers of shirts he has on underneath. “I did.” He watches me for another moment, blushing slightly in the cold.

I raise my eyebrows at him. He’s hopping from foot to foot, cheeks red. “What? If you’re still cold, the only thing I can spare you is another pair of socks.”

Pavel shakes his head. “No, no, that’s not —” He shakes his head. “Um, I just. I just wanted to, um.” He clears his throat, and I sigh. “See, back home, there’s just — at the beginning of spring, well, there’s this thing called — well, it doesn’t matter what it’s called, but —”

“Get to the point.”

“Yes, um, sorry, sorry, I’m sorry for wasting your time —” He blushes, again, harder, and this time I don’t think it’s because of the cold.

“What is it, Pavel?” I cast a glance back, at where they’re almost finished. I have to be up there soon. Of course Pavel picked now to start prattling on.

“Well, see…it’s just a holiday where — where we give gifts to loved ones. At the beginning of every spring.” He clears his throat lightly, and looks down. “If I was back home I would have bought you something beautiful. Maybe a golden necklace or —“ Pavel blushes again, and I remember his surprise two weeks ago when I mentioned that it was the beginning of spring.

Spring? he had said, staring at me blankly. I hadn’t seen him much at all since then, and had just assumed — well, honestly, I hadn’t given much thought to where he had been.

“Or a nice sword,” Pavel continues quietly. He has something in his hands now, but I can’t quite see what it is. “But — but — we were traveling, and I didn’t have any money, so…”

Pavel uncovers his hands. In his palm sits a roughly carved wooden wolf, about the length of my thumb. There isn’t much detail to it other than a few scratches where its eyes should be, and for the fur of its tail, but it’s still recognizable.

“I’m sorry it’s ugly,” he whispers as I take it, examining it. Its mouth is open in a snarl, teeth pointed and jagged. “I’m - I’m not very good at carving, and I cut myself a few times while making it, but — but — it’s all I could offer you here — I know it’s stupid, and — you don’t even celebrate this but — I thought you might like it maybe,” he finishes off nervously.

“A wolf,” I say quietly, running my thumb over its tail.

Pavel nods again, rubbing his hands together. I catch sight of the nicks on his fingers. “You’re — that’s the animal I associate you with,” he says softly. “Or maybe a bear, but, I tried carving a bear and it ended up looking more like a misshapen potato —”

The laugh that escapes me startles me. “A misshapen potato?” I ask, unable to stop a small smile. The image of Pavel spending hours working on a carving only for his masterpiece to look like a root vegetable is honestly funny — and pretty in character for him.

Pavel blinks in surprise - and then smiles, some of the tension leaving him. “Yeah,” he admits. “I’m not a good carver. ” He hesitates for a moment. “Do you like it?”

I continue to study it. “Is this what you were doing all last week?”

He blushes, and nods. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

I finally look up from the little wooden wolf. His eyes are large, anxious, the need for approval so clear. The need for my approval.

“Well, this one looks slightly better than a misshapen potato, so you should be glad.” I lower it a little, and Pavel beams. “Now go on — you’d better get on that wagon before Ivan leaves, unless you want to walk the rest of the way.”

Pavel gives me another wide smile, with a whispered thank you, and I watch him hurry off through the snow. Once he disappears into the throng of people, I let myself look back at the little wolf. It’s ugly. Rough, hewn from the wood without any finesse, its tail looking a little mangy. But there’s love in it, so much love, in every uneven cut and flaw, in the healing nicks I’d seen on Pavel’s hands.

I put it gently in the inner pocket of my coat, making sure it’s tucked safe within the folds without any danger of falling out, and then I turn to go join Katya and Anja.

#writeblr #wip: mwad #mwad excerpt #original writing #ty to blanche for the idea of a valentine's day excerpt #im feeling strangely soft for sascha and pavel now #too bad mwad ends how it ends >:)

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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

The Key

Llewyn Davis x Female Reader

Summary: Reader gives Llewyn a special gift on Valentine’s Day

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day guys (especially to @spencers-dria) This is for @aellynera and is for the Valentine’s Day fic exchange organized by the lovely @sergeantkane!!! Thanks for organizing this I love fic swaps!! This is the first time I’ve ever written for Llewyn so fingers crossed lmao 😂 Also consider this a bonus for my 1000 follower celebration! The other fic will be out later tonight! Thanks for reading and requests are open!

Warnings: uhhh- just one sexual innuendo- I think that’s it!

Main Masterlist Word count: 1.5k

I set a package on my coffee table, small enough to fit in the palm of my hand wrapped in matte red wrapping paper. It was the last stop in a series of clues I had laid out for Llewyn on Valentine’s Day.

After I was satisfied with the placement of everything around my apartment I sat at my kitchen table waiting patiently with a cup of coffee for Llewyn to wake up. The early morning light started to beam its way through my curtains as I sipped on the steaming liquid and thought about how we had gotten to this point.

When I spotted a man sitting outside in the blistering cold last winter with not nearly enough layers to combat the weather I had to reach out to help. I had known that if I had left him there there was a high chance he would’ve died from exposure that night from how much it had dropped in temperature.

I remembered how tired he looked, almost like it was yesterday. I remembered basically working all night to unthaw him, even though I didn't even know his name. After I had learned a little about Llewyn after his lips were no longer blue I immediately offered my apartment as a place of rest for him.

It took months of convincing him that he was not a burden to get him to stay at my apartment on a more permanent basis. He still wouldn’t totally accept the help I had been giving for a long time. He wouldn’t even sleep in the guest bedroom I had in the apartment and insisted on sleeping on the couch. I had decided at the time that I had lost that battle with him and let him sleep on my lumpy couch, at least he wasn’t out in the cold.

I couldn’t tell anyone when exactly the relationship between the two of us shifted to something more. But, I could remember the night I had decided to act on my feelings that had been brewing for quite some time. I remembered it like it was yesterday too, it was one of the days Llewyn was being stubborn about accepting help from me. The only reason he had come over that night was because there were no other couches available for him to sleep on, and the rain outside had been far too heavy for him to justify sleeping in the cold again. He came to my place with a hesitant knock as if he was afraid I would refuse him, even though I had never done it before.

I wanted to berate him for not coming to me first and letting himself potentially get sick from walking in the rain house to house. It had reminded me too much of the first day I had found him in the cold, lips blue and practically inches from death.

Llewyn traipsing in from my bedroom broke me out of my reminiscing. He looked so good in the mornings, with his curls wild from last night’s activities and only a pair of boxers slung around his hips.

“Good Morning, Angel.” His deep voice in the morning sent shivers down your spine, in a good way.

I repeated the pleasantry back to him while he leaned forward to kiss my forehead, then asking him, “Do you know what today is?”

“No? Did I miss something important” He looked frantic, running his hands through his messy inky curls and scratching his scruff awkwardly.

“It’s Valentine’s Day.” I wasn’t surprised that he had forgotten the holiday, he hadn’t had someone properly take care of him in so long.

“Oh… I don't-“ He started to stammer before I cut him off with some reassurance.

“Don’t say sorry for not being able to get me anything, we’ve talked about this.” His shoulders slumped forward at my words, looking a little sad. Though I had assured him many times that the fact that he couldn’t shower me with gifts didn’t bother me and that I just wanted him he still couldn’t help but feel bad. I leaned up from my chair and pressed my own kiss to his forehead, stopping a moment to inhale his scent before continuing, “Angel, I just want to treat you today. There’s no need to apologize for something that’s out of your control and I don’t need anything I just want you.”

“I don't need anything either.” He immediately rebutted, causing me to sigh a little and bring my hand up to stroke his beautiful hair. “You might not need these things, but I want to give them to you.”

“Ok…”

His confirmation had me immediately hopping up from my chair and giving him instructions to find all of his gifts. I had decided to do a small little scavenger hunt, hiding all the gifts in what seemed to be plain sight. Everytime he got a little bit closer to one I’d tell him whether he was warm or cold.

“Cold.” I giggled out when he started to become convinced that I had hidden something in one of my flower pots. He fake sighed in annoyance, he had already found the first gift, which was easy to find. It had been hidden in the cabinet and was fancy ground coffee that I knew he’d love whenever he needed a pick me up in the morning.

“Warm.” I said as he was making his way over to the loveseat that sat in the corner. He looked around the area for a while until he actually sat in the chair, which coincidentally was where the gift was hidden. “Hot, you are piping hot!”

He laughed a little and finally rooted around the love seat to try and find where I had hidden the gift. Once he finally found the gift that was underneath the seat he immediately opened the box, which held a new coat and a new pair of boots. I could tell that he knew they were expensive, way more so than the coffee.

“Thank you, I’m s-

“Nope! Remember no sorry’s!” I cut him off and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “Now onto your last gift!”

He stood up to go hunting for the last gift, but not before pressing a bruising kiss to my lips and thanking me for the first two presents a few more times. I slapped his ass after a minute and told him to hurry up so he could have his morning cup of joe before I had to go to work, which prompted him to start looking for the last gift.

“Hot.” I spoke simply as he walked over to the coffee table. He was much quicker at finding this gift compared to the last.

When he finally reached the coffee table where the last gift was I could tell he wanted to insist that he didn’t need anything else. But, instead of letting him say it I reassured him again before asking him to open the red wrapped gift.

He tore the paper gently as if he didn’t want to ruin the paper even though it was just plain wrapping, he was always so gentle. Uncovering the small black box that held his surprise made his hands shake a little, I knew he thought this would be another gift that he would feel he didn’t deserve. But, in my opinion this gift was a long time coming.

When he opened the box he gasped once he realized what the little black box held, a shiny silver key. One that matched the key I used to get into the apartment. There was a key that Llewyn already used when he wanted to come over and I wasn’t home, one that was hidden above my door frame. This held a different meaning though, by the look on Llewyn’s face and the tears in his eyes he knew what it meant too. He enveloped me into a suffocating hug that I’d never dream of wanting to escape, burying his face into my shoulder and dampening my shirt with the tears.

We just stood in silence in our embrace for a few minutes before I spoke softly while rubbing his back, “This is my apartment, but I want it to be yours too.”

“Why?” His question was muffled into my shoulder, but I could still hear the shakiness in his voice.

“You know why.” The hidden meaning in my words weren’t lost to Llewyn, he knew exactly what I was saying. We had never spoken the words out loud to each other, only dancing around what we both knew was true. I knew Llewyn was scared, even though I had never done anything to hurt him so many people had done so in the past. So, I didn’t mind waiting to confess my love to him, just as long as he knew how much I cared about him.

“I love you.” He spoke meekly as if after all of this, he was still instinctively afraid of rejection. I’d make sure to never give Llewyn more reasons to fear love, I would love him back with all my heart. I pressed a chaste kiss onto his lips before making sure to return the sentiment,

“I know, I love you too.” And, I knew that he’d use his new key too.

——

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azwriting · 4 years

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Binary Suns (Two Sides of the Same Coin, Din Djarin x Fem!Reader) - Chapter Two

A/N: This took forever to write and I’m so sorry! I had the worst writer’s block and I hope it doesn’t show in this chapter....

Summary: Mando and the Reaper find themselves in Mos Eisley where a shady young bounty hunter seeks the help of the Mandalorian.

Warning(s): Canon typical violence, me having major writers block, posting this at 4 in morning unedited,

Word Count: 8431 (I’M SoRrY)

The Mandalorian had tried to do the right thing: he went against the Guild and rescued the small green asset, he had taken the child somewhere safe where he had hoped they could lay low for a few months, but trouble seemed to follow. Because of his years of rigorous training and the years he had dedicated to the Guild, he could have foreseen the inevitable bounty hunter tracking the kid to Sorgan, but taking on a new strange passenger? No training or amount of labor could have helped him predict that one.

It had been a few days since they had departed Sorgan, leaving Cara behind with “Until our paths cross” and “Not a scratch on my ship Dune!” It had been a few days and he still did not have a decent interpretation of the Reaper, (Y/N). Mando knew nothing about her, only the minor glimpses into her life that Cara had revealed and how oddly well the child and her connected. It was almost as if they spoke their own silent language.

There were a few things he did uncover though. They were small details but provided an insight into her guarded life. Without the white paint smeared around her eyes, the dark circles hidden underneath were revealed to him. He had mistaken the purple and bluish patches of skin for bruises until he realized they were not healing. She did not sleep much… that much he could gather. Late at night whether he was in the cockpit or the confines of his room, he could hear the faintest of movements, like the soft hum of a breeze. The Razor Crest was not quiet by any means, every step warranted creaking durasteel in response, yet barely any noise ever came from her. It was as if her feet never touched the floor…

(Y/N) was impossibly agile, quick reflexes, reacting to things before his mind had even processed them. Reaching for things before they had even fallen, catching the kid before he could get them all into trouble by pressing whatever button he could reach. Mando had seen it on Sorgan with the way she took out the raiders. All quick and precise movements, flipping up and into the air only to land before them and drive her spear straight through. It was unlike anything he had ever seen across the galaxy.

She constantly wore armor around her chest and abdomen. Whether it was sitting on the floor playing absentmindedly with the kid or sitting silently in the cockpit alongside him. It appeared as if she never took it off. Coming from the man who was covered in head to toe Beskar everyday, it seemed a little strange. An out of character trait for someone who was not devoted to any creed. He began to wonder what dangerous predicament the Reaper had experienced to make her so tense.

(Y/N) was jumpy, jumpier than him. Any great fighter had their senses heightened, always ready for the unpredictable, but (Y/N) was on a whole other plane of existence. Every little insignificant noise earned her gaze, earned her fingers grazing her blaster. Her reflexes making her ready to spring into action at any given second. Mando was positive that each and every time he entered the same area as her on this small ship that her breath hitched. She would be stiff for a moment until whatever irrational fear played out behind her eyes faded away. He tried not to take it personally, many beings feared him and it brought him a strange sense of joy sometimes, but strangely not with (Y/N).

The Mandalorian knew the weight of trauma, of secrets, the Beskar was not the only thing that weighed him down. He knew what it did to someone and he knew she harbored many secrets, a past that left a burden on the young Reaper.

Regardless of his own intense curiosity that was building beneath the helmet, (Y/N) never voiced any. She never pestered him about what was beneath the helmet, like so many did. In fact there were moments over the past couple of days that he felt that she looked straight through the helmet. It was one night in particular when she was just informing him that rations were running low, the child seemingly always hungry, that the visor that tinted his vision served as the only reminder that she could not see him. Her eyes always found his with ease despite the barrier. They were small gestures but he deeply appreciated them, not that he would ever voice that. Mando needed to remind himself that she was simply here to help with the kid, but he could not help but enjoy the new company. Although she could talk a little less…

(Y/N) had retired to her small cot for the night, leaving Mando and the child alone in the cockpit. The two were silent, except for the occasional chatter from the small green creature behind him. The Mandalorian kept his eyes trained on the vast stars before him, thoughts wandering to the woman below. He had never been curious, it was something that diminished in him as a boy during his training, yet this former Rebel had awoken it in him. She was as much as a walking mystery as he was.

A loud beeping derailed his train of thought, bring him back inside of the cockpit. His head looked around the control panel, searching for the indication of what was wrong, when he caught sight of the scanner. Behind the Razor Crest was another ship, its targets locked onto them. “Shi-” Mando could not even get a word out before a blast hit his ship, rattling the worn durasteel.

“Hand over the child, Mando.” A demanding voice cut through the radio, almost drowning in the sound of other blaring alarms and the frightful whimpers of the kid. He quickly accelerated, dodging incoming blasts, although a shot hit one of the jets. The Razor Crest jolted forward at that, electricity crackling throughout the cockpit. With the chaos that was ensuing, Mando did not hear the footsteps climbing the ladder.

“I leave you alone for five minutes,” (Y/N)’s voice carried through the small cockpit as she entered. It had been longer than five minutes, he silently noted to himself. “And you somehow find trouble! Seriously you two!” (Y/N) pointed down accusatively at the child, a smile breaking through her teasing tone. The child babbled something in response followed shortly by a giggle. Perhaps if they were not in a state of peril than Mando would have found humor in the comment, maybe even allow a corner of his lips to twitch. Instead he was stone cold, focused on putting an end to the hunter behind him. “Hold on.”

(Y/N) hovered behind him, hands tightly gripping the molding of the cockpit’s viewpoint as Mando spun the Razor Crest around, the ship taking a few more hits. “I can bring you in warm or cold.” The hunter’s voice came from the radio and the child whimpered quietly, no doubtedly petrified. Mando suddenly braked and (Y/N)’s hands slipped from the ceiling and she stumbled forward, hands falling to clutch onto the Beskar pauldrons on his shoulders. He immediately stiffened, the cold from her hands seeping through his layers, the apology fumbling from her lips muted against the ringing in his ears. A shiver ran up his spine, but he was unsure if it was from her frigid hands or something else entirely. As his defense system locked onto the ship that was now before him, he banished his internal inquiry.

“That’s my line.” The Mandalorian declared firing at the other ship, it exploding into nothing more than speckles of dust. (Y/N)’s hands slipped from his shoulders as he moved to fiddle with multiple toggles and buttons, the Razor Crest whining in a state of distress.

“Nice shot Mando, decent comeback.” A small noise escaped the helmet and she bit back a grin, turning to squat down before the baby. She could hear him mumbling about losing fuel as he tried to transfer energy elsewhere, the alarms only blaring in response, and the engine powering down. “Are we floating dead in the middle of space? Yes we are, yes we are!” (Y/N) cooed to the child, softly stroking one of his long green ears, earning her a soft giggle in return. His big brown eyes held onto hers, his small teeth poking out through his smile. She had never seen a creature so easily enthused, especially by her.

The cockpit abruptly was filled with red light, tinting everything in sight. A non-amused groan sounded from the chair to her side as Mando sat back down, continuously switching toggles. The engine sputtered back to life and the rusting gears of the pilot chair creaked. (Y/N) tore her eyes away from the baby, finding the man had swiveled his chair over to peer at them, the helmet tilted down. (Y/N) did not need to see his face to know the telling look of “Don’t underestimate me”.

It had been a few days since (Y/N) had joined the Mandalorian and the child on their desperate attempts to avoid the Guild. She did not know much about the man hidden behind the beskar and she had accepted that. She knew that the creed prevented him from showing his face, that the creed hid all remnants of whoever he was before. (Y/N) could understand that, could relate in her own way, the hood she adorned hid more than just a face. But during their few days in space together, in the small confines of his ship, she had uncovered a few things without ever having to ask.

Mando was quiet, never speaking more than necessary around her. He had been stiff at first, but she could feel him starting to loosen his resolve around her. She knew he hid behind a facade, but the child had started to break through that long before she even began accompanying them. The late nights where she could hear him talking to the child, who only offered incoherent answers, proved that. Waking up in the cockpit with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders proved that. Although that was something both of them never dared to address. He was not as heartless as he wanted others to believe.

He was protective. Perhaps it was his line of work that had brought it out or something he too buried beneath the mantle of a Mandalorian, but he was protective, overly so. Late at night when she could not sleep, a common occurrence, she could hear him up in the cockpit refusing to sleep afraid for the unknown. He constantly checked on the child, more so than her, even reluctant to let her leave the room with him. (Y/N) attempted not to take it personally, most of the beings he had encountered lately had been after the child, but she secretly hoped he did not think of her like so. She was here to help, not harm him.

She could feel a strange sense of comfort emitting from him, beneath all of the stress. (Y/N) was unsure as to why but he seemed to tense around her despite the deep, dare she say, relaxed breaths that escaped from the helmet. Whenever she looked to the visor, searching for eyes she would never see, he seemed to stutter in his movements, hands twitching at his sides. He was never just one emotion, that much she could tell.

Against her control, the sight of the helmet still brought forth unwelcomed thoughts. She would have to take a moment to calm her heart and he seemed to know to wait to speak when the flashes resurfaced. It was not Mando’s fault, he did not mean to stoke the inner fear she had from her youth, but it was just a foolish thing she could not control. With each passing day, (Y/N) hoped the sour taste in her mouth would disappear when her eyes first land on the Mandalorian.

Mando was a good person, she knew it. He tried to obscure it behind curt sentences, bloodied hands, and polished armor, but it was there. He too had the weight of trauma secured around his soul, tighter than the beskar, she knew that personally. Despite everything, she was beginning to enjoy his company. She enjoyed the silent looks, the hours spent playing with the child, the teasing remarks that only earned her a soft noise in acknowledgement. Spending so many years alone, having not one but two living and breathing beings around was an unexpected but welcomed change. And to think, she had almost fought him on Sorgan before a single word had been exchanged between them.

The crackling static of the radio pulled the hunter away, the visor returning to the vast expanse of space. “This is Mos Eisley Tower, we are tracking you. Head for bay three-five, over.” Mando confirmed that he was heading for the hangar, but (Y/N) groaned drowning it out. She stood back to her full height and eyed the sand covered planet rapidly consuming their view of space. “Mos Eisley?” Of all the places to land…

“You’ve been here before?” The deep modified voice questioned. (Y/N) leaned over him, eyes narrowed and observing. She could feel the Mandalorian tense beneath her, the frigid chill of the beskar radiating through her clothes. She paid no mind to it as memories of the pale architecture of the former wretched hive of scum and villainy surfaced in her mind. It had been different then, just as it would be now. Back before embarking on a trip with a Mandalorian bounty hunter and a small green creature, back before the whispered tales of a hood black figure spread across the galaxy.

“A long time ago.”

Climbing down from the cockpit, (Y/N) watched as Mando laid the kid down in a small compartment. He had seemingly fallen asleep during their descent, the thrill of a chase leaving his little body drained. “Will he be okay in there?” She was hesitant to leave him, not doing so since she had joined his side. The two of them bonded quicker than anyone would deem normal and (Y/N) did not have an answer, not a truthful one. She was scared to part from him, feeling the need to protect him. He was too important and yet too fragile. “He’ll be fine.” Mando assured closing the door. Sighing (Y/N) moved towards the ramp, waiting for the man to finish loading up his weapons. Her blasters never left her side, a habit that she would never shake. The horrors that had been seared into her mind, that bled from her soul with every step had made sure of that.

“No hood?” Mando suddenly spoke, moving to press the button that lowered the ramp. (Y/N) just shook her head, no she would not be needing it. The Reaper would not be present today. They both were silent as the ramp lowered, hands automatically flying up to shield her eyes from the blinding suns. The dry, hot, suffocating air of Tatooine infiltrated her lungs and the immediate uncomfortable prickling sensation of unbearable heat made itself known underneath her dark tunic. She could not imagine how agonizingly hot Mando was beneath all his armor and dark clothing, his skin no doubtedly producing the sticky gleam of sweat under it all.

A blaster went off pulling (Y/N) back to the hangar. Her one blaster was cradled between her hands, finger on the trigger, faster than she could process. “Hey! Hey! You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it!” A woman’s nagging broke through the tension. (Y/N)’s eyes fell over to Mando, finding his blaster pointed at a few pit droids. His face was turned towards her though and she could sense his eyes observing her and her blaster, as if he was taking a mental image.

A woman emerged from a small office in the bay, her unruly curls taller than her. “Just keep them away from my ship.” Mando huffed out holstering his blaster, (Y/N) following suit, only after assessing their surroundings. No trouble appeared to be near, especially from the tiny woman.

“Yeah? You think that’s a good idea, do you? Let’s look at your ship.” The woman, a mechanic, chastised stepping closer to the ship with her datapad in hand.

The quiet chatter of the city streamed into bay three-five, gaining (Y/N)’s attention. She could not help the curiosity that came over. It had been years since she last stepped foot on this planet, the first planet she had ever come back to. She never stuck around long enough to see how change would progress. Looking back to an occupied Mando and Mechanic, she knew she would not be missed. (Y/N) walked down the rest of the ramp, stepping down onto the hard sandy ground, the exit just ahead. Her next step has not even touched the ground before rough leather clamped around her wrist. The heat from the leather burned almost as hot as the suns of Tatooine. If it weren’t for the steel, (Y/N) would assume that Mando would radiate pure heat, even in the coldest parts of space. Her hands were always cold, a striking difference between the man and her. She was certain Mando believed they were all differences, two things that could not coexist in the same atmosphere. But the similarities greatly outweighed that, two things that in fact orbited each other. Although he would never know that.

“Where are you going?” Frustration had twisted its way into his speech from the credit hungry Mechanic and confusion for her interrupted departure. The stone cold legendary bounty hunter was nothing like she expected, something she had been piecing together since Sorgan. His instinctual protectiveness over the child had proven there was more to him than what had been spoken of.

“Relax, I’ll be back.” She attempted to rip her hand free, but his grip only tightened. Her eyes flashed up to his, narrowing with a challenge, an eyebrow quirking up as well. She could take him with ease, make it to the blast door before he could even stand.

“Just wait a minute.” A hint of humor edged its way into the modulator and (Y/N) fought back a satisfied smirk. She was bound to break through that facade of his sometime. He turned back to the mechanic, never releasing her wrist, he was too smart to think she would stay. “I’ll get you your money. Just remember-”

The curly haired woman cut him off, “Yeah, no droids, I heard you. You don’t have to say it twice.” Mando did not comment, instead he released (Y/N)’s wrist. His now free hand gestured for her to lead the way and she wasted no time jetting towards the bay exit, the hunter close behind.

The two stepped through the blast door, greeted by the quiet hangar alley. (Y/N) half heartedly expected to see the sickening white duraplast armor patrolling around, but with a heavy exhale she reminded herself that it had been taken care of. “Is there a cantina or something around here?” Mando asked reminding her that he was still in fact next to her. She rolled her eyes at his question, was there a cantina in Mos Eisley? He must have never been here, especially during the Empire’s reign.

“Yeah, it’s just a few streets over.” (Y/N) answered, eyes scanning the area. Last time she was here it was bustling with smugglers, spice runners, and running fugitives. Now it was almost bare except for the occasional traveler and moisture farmer passing by. It was unlike Mos Eisley to be so… civilized. Pride attempted to rise in her, but she snuffed it out quickly. This was how it was supposed to be.

“When were you on Tatooine?” The words surprised her, the Mandalorian verbally seeking out information about her. She was astonished to know he was inquisitive, let alone about her.

“It was one of the first places the “Reaper” went to.” It was the first real city she traveled to, bearing no identity as she removed any traces of the horrid Empire. It was wear the Reaper was born, her alter ego. (Y/N) did not associate herself with the stories that had spread across the galaxy. She was no guardian angel, no she was the person she had needed as a child.

“That’s why you didn’t wear your hood.” Mando said more to himself than her.

(Y/N) nodded in agreement, “They didn’t need to think it was some second coming and it’s nice to just observe, to see this prosperity that is attached to the name.” She could recall the weeks she had spent here, covered in grime that consisted of blood, sweat, and coarse sand. She had barely slept while freeing each and every small town or village of stormtroopers. If she had not struck them down, the few she did not, were left for the Tusken Raiders.

They turned to their right where a pathway was lined with weathered Stormtrooper helmets, all pierced with stakes. He turned to her wordlessly, the tilt of the helmet indicating the question he did not ask. (Y/N) winked walking past him, “What? Didn’t know I was an artist?”

The cantina was quiet, only a few local patrons sitting around the old bar, the occasional droid rolling by. Mando approached the bar leaning against the worn countertop, “Hey droid, I’m a hunter. I’m looking for some work.” Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as (Y/N) rested against the counter beside him, eyes patrolling the small cantina and droid before them. She was paranoid so was he, but she always seemed to be on the lookout. Him shooting at the pit droids had her ready to attack in a split second. Just another telling reason as to why he determined she was jumpy.

“Unfortunately, the Bounty Guild no longer operates from Tatooine.” The droid responded and Mando let out a sigh.

“I could’ve told you that.” (Y/N) mumbled. He slowly glared over at her, eyebrows raised in annoyance. Her eyes widened in dramatics before she pursed her lips and turned to face the opposite wall. Expressive, he mentally noted, another thing to add to his list. She was extremely expressive in her movements and facial expressions. A part of him was relieved she had not worn the hood since Sorgan, he found her reactions to be… enjoyable.

“I’m not looking for Guild work.”

The bartending droid was quick to retort, “I’m afraid that does not improve your situation, at least by my calculation.” Mando wanted to blast the damn droid, being of absolute no use. How was he supposed to pay for repairs if he could not find a job? How would he buy rations for himself, the child, and now (Y/N)? He thought back to the simpler times where it was just him all by his lonesome, but had those times really been simpler? He enjoyed having the child now and he liked (Y/N)’s company, he had been alone for far too long.

“Think again, tin can!” A voice called. Mando twisted around to see a young man sitting in a booth with his legs propped up as if he was some high and mighty scoundrel. “If you’re looking for work, have a seat, my friend.” He added gesturing to the open seat across from him. The beskar helmet turned to face (Y/N), who already was focused on him. Wordlessly, (Y/N) lifted her shoulders into a shrug and Mando sighed. What other option did they have? He sauntered over to the small booth, (Y/N) staying at the bar. “Names Toro, Toro Calican.” The young man, Toro, boots dropped from the table as he placed down a bounty puck onto the table between them. “Picked up this Bounty Puck before I left the Mid Rim. Fennec Shand, an Assassin. Heard she's been on the run ever since the New Republic put all her employers in lockdown.”

Mando narrowed his eyes at the boy, unsure how naive he could possibly be,“I know the name.”

Toro pulled the tracking fob from his belt as he continued, “I followed this tracking fob here. Now the positional data suggests she's headed out beyond the Dune Sea. Should be an easy job.” Mando heard (Y/N) snicker from the bar, her head dropping in laughter. Toro was a newbie, that was for sure.

After Toro confessing that he was in fact, said newbie, he made the Mandalorian an offer he could not refuse. “You and your hot partner can keep the money, all of it. I just need this job to get into the Guild.” From his peripheral vision, Mando saw (Y/N) stiffen at his words. Through the security of his helmet, he allowed his eyes to rake over his new supposed partner. The thought had not yet crossed his mind, (Y/N) was now his partner, both protecting the child.

Her hair was secured in a braid once again, the same taupe colored piece of fabric woven into it, along with grains of sand that had fallen to embellish her hair during the walk here. She wore a dark blue tunic over a white long sleeve, the black armor as always wrapped around her torso. Mando took in her black belt and two holstered blasters, her brown pants that were tucked into her black boots, and something silver that gleamed inside her one boot. He swore it better not be anything of his.

His eyes found Toro’s to be regarding (Y/N) as well, although it was in less of an observant way as Mando had just done or at least that’s what he tried to tell himself. Mando was not pleased to find that Toro was eyeing his partner and so visibly, no discreteness to it. He leaned in the beskar plate pressing tightly into his chest, “She can see you.” Toro’s eyes snapped back up to (Y/N)’s face, who had not moved from her position at the bar. With her head staring straight ahead at the multitude of vials of different liquors one of her hands raised and gave the two men a short wave, indicating that she did in fact see them.

Toro’s mouth fell open as he searched for what to say, some pathetic excuse, but only straggled spurts of air fell from his lips. Mando did not grant him anymore time to find his words, “Meet me at Hangar three-five in half an hour. Bring two speeder bikes and give me the tracking fob.” They both stood and headed for the door, (Y/N) approaching them with a sly smirk on her face. Toro refused to meet her gaze instead holding Mando’s visor as his leather covered hand extended out for the tracking fob. Mando watched as Toro’s eyes widened as he glanced down at his hand and then back up to the helmet. Before anyone could react, Toro smashed the tracking fob into the stone wall.

(Y/N) let out a small noise and the Mandalorian bobbed his head in shock and annoyance. “Don’t worry, got it all memorized!” The young bounty hunter reassured tapping his temple. Mando mentally facepalmed himself, what had he gotten himself into?

“Half an hour.” He repeated before nodding for the Reaper to follow him.

The minute the two were out of the cantina, (Y/N) grabbed his arm. “I don’t trust him Mando.” He looked down at her seeing the uncertainty embedded in her eyes, could feel it in the way her cold fingers clutched onto him. Even underneath the heat of the binary suns, her hands were still cold. He envisioned that even the heat of a thousand suns that they would still be cold, it was just another attribute that made up the mysterious Reaper, his new partner. The word still felt foreign in his mind, he could only imagine how bizarre it would feel tumbling from his lips. Mutely Mando nodded and her hand released him, leaving him to feel strange in its absence. He did not trust the kid either, but they needed the credits.

The two entered the hangar silently, the mechanic nowhere in sight. Surely she was gathering the parts she needed to patch up Mando’s sorely messed up ship. She would never say it, but the ship was older than them both and belonged in a ship graveyard somewhere on Jakku or Honoghr. Her ship the Weeping Sinner, a name her brother had bestowed on the old freighter, was newer than his. And yet, they had left that one behind on Sorgan in the hands of Cara. Her ship could have handled a shoot-out better than this.

(Y/N) followed the Mandalorian up the ramp still playing over what the wanna-be bounty hunter had said. “Partner.” She elected to ignore his words before that, but dwelled on the title he had given Mando and her. They were partners now, working together to protect the child, it was odd to think of. Their partnership was almost humorous considering the stories, the history she knew… but it was the three of them now. A drastic change to the solidarity she had grown accustomed to since the war ended.

Inside the Razor Crest, Mando moved to collect supplies for his trip with Toro and (Y/N) headed towards the small compartment to check on the kid. She was amazed he was still sleeping… except as her eyes fell onto the empty compartment, she realized he was not. Mando’s eyes seemed to have noticed the same gut wrenching sight at the same time because he quickly bolted over to investigate, confirming the child was not inside. His helmet whipped back to her widening eyes and they both took off running out of the ship.

“Hey!” Mando shouted down at one of the pit droids, who in terror collapsed down into itself. Durasteel filled (Y/N)’s stomach as she scoured her surroundings, searching for green ears and that oversized beige tunic. Where was he? Was he okay? Had someone taken him? The information Mando had told her when she first joined them, reiterated itself inside her head. “Imps had him hooked up to some machine, the client didn’t seem to be concerned about whether he lived or not.” If a hunter had found him there was no saying what could have happened to him, what was currently happening to him. The child was of grave importance, Mando had begun to put that together and (Y/N) had known it the minute she had seen him playing with the children of Sorgan, those little green ears perked up in joy. She felt dizzy, enough of them had suffered, the child did not deserve any harm.

“Where is he?” Mando demanded looking down at the quivering droid. Fear encompassing his voice even through the modulator.

“Quiet!” The mechanic attempted to shout and keep her voice down at the same time. She emerged from her office, a small bundle secured in her arms. (Y/N) was quick to raise her blaster targeting the Tatooine native. She craved another weapon, one that fit in the palms of her hands better. A weapon that was quicker, cleaner, more precise in the hands of someone like (Y/N), someone who was as lithe as her. She desired the weapon the Reaper beared when taking down any outpost still flying the Imperial flag, still under control. But this was not the place, not without a hood, not with a Mandalorian she barely knew.

Muffled cries escaped the child as she walked closer, unaware of the blaster pointed at her and the tensed Mandalorian. “You woke it up! Do you have any idea how long it took me to get it to sleep?” The woman complained, eyes flickering between the two. She seemed unbothered by the two fighters standing before her as if she had stared down far more dangerous people. Living in Mos Eisley, it was possible.

“Give him to me.” Mando demanded, pointing at the incoming child. (Y/N) tightened her grip on her blaster, one foot stepping closer.

“Not so fast!” The mechanic shifted to the side holding the child away from them. An animalistic sneer escaped (Y/N)’s lips as she took another intimidating step forward. Both the woman and Mando turned to look at her appalled, stunned by her fearless approach. (Y/N) was undeterred by their silence, only jerking her blaster up as a reminder to give them the child or else. Big brown eyes met hers and a soft murmur escaped the child, his claws reaching out for her.

A hand was gently placed on top of her blaster, urging her to lower it. (Y/N) swallowed slightly, not even looking at the man as she reluctantly holstered the weapon. Taking a deep breath, she tried to reign in the inner warrior that had escaped from its cage. “Please.” She whispered desperately, trembling hands reaching out. The woman seemed to hesitate for a moment, unsure of the sudden change in her, but against her better judgement she handed over the child.

A sigh of relief escaped (Y/N)’s throat once she felt the soft fabric graze her exposed skin and without a second thought she pressed his little body into hers. Content little sounds fell from the baby’s mouth and a claw raised to rest against her cheek. (Y/N) offered him a small smile, pleased to see he was in no danger and no harm had come to him. “Thank you.” Her voice was barely audible as she regarded the mechanic, who in shock just nodded. She could feel Mando’s eyes on her too but she kept her head down, basking in the joy of the child.

“You got a job, didn’t you?” The woman asked instead. Mando did not answer as he moved to collect his belongings from back inside the ship. She continued on anyways, “I figured you were good for the money since you have extra mouths to feed.” (Y/N)’s eyes drifted away from the child to glance up at the Mandalorian already staring back down at her. Her partner… Her (Y/E/C) eyes fell quickly, her cheeks flushing in the slightest. The awful sweltering Tatooine heat must have been getting to her. The child cooed up at her almost as if he was calling her lie.

“It’s not like that…” She mumbled to him. She had been alone for so long, it was overwhelming to finally be near others again. Let alone have a partner.

Mando walked down the ramp and headed for the exit, (Y/N) and the child following close behind. Outside the hangar, Toro leaned against one of the speeder bikes, arms crossed, and a relaxed expression on his face. “Hey Mando, what do you think? Not too shabby, huh?” Mando was silent as he plopped his belongings down onto the one speeder bike. He moved to inspect the bike, clearly not impressed. “What'd you expect? This ain't Corellia.” Toro shrugged, looking over to (Y/N) and the baby. She did not meet his gaze, instead watching Mando strap his pack to bike. (Y/N) was uncertain about this hunt, Fennec Shand was a highly regarded mercenary with a big bounty over her head, there being only one other person as high as her.

“Hey kid, why didn’t you pick something easier to get yourself into the Guild?” (Y/N) prodded, jerking her chin towards him.

Toro smirked slightly at her words, “Please as if any other bounty could get me in. The only other one worth such a high honor is the Reaper, but their just a myth.”

(Y/N) faked a laugh, eyes flashing over to a quiet Mando. “You think the Reaper is just a story?”

Toro nodded tossing in an unnecessary wink, “No one just helps others for free.” She shrugged innocently, knowing that perhaps there were people like that out in the galaxy. (Y/N) never allowed anyone to pay her for what she did, the most she would accept for her deeds was food and fuel. The work of the Reaper did not require payment, she found her reward in the relieved sighs, the gracious smiles, and the dissipation of fear and suffering. The Empire had oppressed too many and ridding the galaxy of such evil was enough reparation.

Mando sauntered back up to her side, a simple glove reaching out to stroke one of the child’s silky ears. “I’ll be back as soon as possible. Keep an eye on the kid.” (Y/N) agreed, eyes searching the visor for his. She knew she would never see them, but attempting to find them was enough. It was a game she played: if he’s tilting his head than his eyes must be there or he stiffened, I must have found them. (Y/N) wanted to remind him to be safe, to watch his back, but he was a Mandalorian, a skilled fighter… He would be fine.

(Y/N) watched as the two speeder bikes took off in a cloud of sand, the child babbling up at her softly. She smiled looking down at his sweet little face, “It’s just you and me, kid.” Another babble floated up to her ears, his head attempting to turn back. “Don’t worry he’ll be back soon.” Bouncing him lightly in her arms, (Y/N) turned to enter the hangar again. Before entering bay three-five, she cast one last glance out to the horizon, inwardly remind herself that everything would be fine.

The day flew by quickly and the binary suns rose the morning, greeting the two of them with the same insufferable heat. (Y/N) and the child made due on the Razor Crest, attempting to keep each other from the brink of boredom, while the mechanic worked around them. Peli, as she was called, was a nice lady (Y/N) could give her that. She had fed them both, dramatically professing how she would only add it to Mando’s other charges, but (Y/N) could tell she did not fully mean it. She could tell the lady enjoyed the change in company. Her and the child got along well too.

Although (Y/N) was going stir crazy. She had not sat around for so long, not since she had been in the Rebellion, but even then there had been something to do. She preferred to keep herself busy, it left less time to remember, less time to feel alone. But now she could only lean against the cold durasteel and watch the child play with a small shiny sphere. It was entertaining enough, watching as the sphere reflect back a distorted image of herself. (Y/N) pondered briefly if that was how she truly looked: altered, disguised, and nothing like her true self. She was always the Reaper or a Rebel or something that no longer existed, never just (Y/N). She was always a conscious blend of multiple things, never truly herself. Fear held her back, just as it had for all these years, since that horrific night. Although she supposed the chance for her to be just (Y/N) died long ago with so many others.

The mid-afternoon sun brought down an intense heat, everything practically radiating thick waves of the sweltering heat. (Y/N) had stripped down to just her blue tunic as she tried to keep the kid cool inside the shade of the Razor Crest. His little green self seemed unbothered by the heat, but she was still worried. She could not wait to leave, the coldness of space calling to her. She had not grown up anywhere near the desert heat, the planets she had lived on were always cool. The closest to heat she had gotten was Yavin 4 during her early years in the Rebellion.

The sound of the blast door opening had (Y/N) jumping to her feet. An alleviated groan passed through her lips, “Finally they’re back!” She jumped down out of the cockpit, eager to leave, but the smile on her face soon died. Toro was walking up the ramp of the ship, blaster raised in defense, no shining beskar in sight. “Where’s Mando?” (Y/N) questioned, slowly walking to the side, her hand reaching for her blaster. Mentally she cursed, during her changing she never clipped back on her belt. Now she was blasterless, but she was not weaponless. Concern tugged at her heart, concern for her Mandalorian partner. She hoped he was alright and not buried in a pauper’s grave somewhere in the desert.

“Oh don’t worry, he’ll be joining us shortly. And until then, you’re going to do as I say because I don’t want to mess up that pretty little face of yours.”

(Y/N) quirked an eyebrow up at that, “Oh is that so?” Toro nodded as the two began to circle each other in a standoff. She wanted to laugh at his boldness and ill-placed confidence. This adolescent could not beat her, he had nothing to hold against her.

As if on cue, a quiet whimper filled the tense ship, heads turning to find the child watching them from a step on the ladder leading up the cockpit. (Y/N) gulped, of course he would follow… “You wouldn’t want anything to happen to this little guy would you?” Her eyes snapped back over to Toro who now pointed at the child. With a blaster pointed at her, she could handle it, but she could not risk the kid.

“You backstabbing bantha!” (Y/N) spit, the two of them now locked on opposite sides of the ship. She did not know why he had double-crossed Mando, but he had no less. And now he was threatening the kid, oh how badly she wanted to unleash the Reaper on him.

“It’s just business, you know.” Toro grinned maliciously, eyes twinkling down at the child.

“I wasn’t in the Guild, so no I don’t.” A thick eyebrow lifted at that, curiosity emitting from him.

“Who are you then?” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, ignoring his question. A part of her told her to wait for Mando, that she could not risk endangering the child, that she could not risk exposing herself. Her actions would no doubtedly out her, but to who? The child? He already knew who she was and he would be the only one walking out of here besides her. Peli was nowhere to be found, meaning while she bore no hood, no could identify her.

Yes, she could stay here and play Toro’s little game and wait for Mando to arrive whenever or she could handle the situation herself. Just as she’s done all along. As she stared at the blaster pointed down at the baby, her decision was made. (Y/N) smirked, her head tilting down threateningly, fingers twitching at her sides in anticipation.

“I’m the Reaper.”

Night devoured Mos Eisley as Mando slid off the dewback, eyeing the speeder bike resting outside of hangar three-five. His chest tightened with unfamiliar feelings, feelings that the child had awoken in. His jaw clenched as he pulled his blaster free from the holster, heading inside the bay. He did not know why Toro had killed Shand, but his gut told him it was not in defense. Slowly he stepped down the stairs, scanning for any threat. He swore if Toro had laid a hand on the kid or (Y/N)… he swallowed thickly not fond of the potential sights he could see. His grip tightened around the blaster in determination, anger seeping in.

“Took you long enough, Mando.” a voice called and in defense his blaster raised to point at the dark shadows of the Razor Crest. What he saw made his heart skip a beat. (Y/N) walked down the ramp, the child asleep in her arms. His eyes frantically raced over the two of them, finding no evident sign of harm. He could not fathom it, where was Toro? He was still tense, eyes searching the grounds of the bay, fully expecting the young bounty hunter to ambush him from the shadows. But his eyes found something else. Beside the ship, was something dark, a silhouette. Mando moved closer hesitantly, blaster still secured between his glove.

On the ground was Toro, eyes closed and a strange blaster hole going straight through his chest. He was dead… which meant (Y/N) had killed him. His eyes lifted back up the ramp where she peered down at him, the moonlight the only source of light. “A-Are you both okay?” Mando’s voice was stiff, the dread and anger he had felt still woven into it.

She smiled lightly, “Yeah, nothing I couldn’t handle.” A deep sigh fled his lips and Mando rolled his shoulders trying to loosen some of the built up tension. Of course, the Reaper could handle herself, it was foolish of him to assume otherwise.

“Peli, the mechanic, is scared out of her mind though.”

Mando’s lips twitched a little beneath the helmet, “From him or you?” (Y/N) laughed loudly, before clamping a hand around her mouth. Her eyes looked down checking to see if she had woken the kid, she had not.

“Good question.” He walked around to the end of the ramp where (Y/N) met him. Looking down at the sleeping child banished all of his previous fears, he was safe, so was she. Through the veil of his lashes he looked up to the former Rebel, who smiled down at the creature too. “I will say though,” Her eyes flickered up to the visor, finding his eyes with such ease, Mando swore she could see right through. “I did warn you about him.” He groaned taking a step back, trying to fight the smile that broke across his face.

“Go back inside, I’m going to figure out the payment with the mechanic, and then we are leaving this place.” Her eyes widened in thankfulness as she nodded, turning to head back up the ramp. With her back to him, Mando carefully eyed her and let an amused hum slip out. Shaking his head, he left to find the mechanic.

(Y/N) felt as the Razor Crest lifted from the bay, leaving Tatooine in the rear viewport. She was thankful to leave, the sweltering heat draining her and the minor scuffle she had with Toro. He had not put up much of a fight just as she expected, he seemed to shaken to function after her admission. The Reaper did after all strike fear into the hearts of the malevolent.

Carefully she placed the child down into the small compartment and wrapped the small blanket around him. At the end of the day, she was glad he was safe. She would not have been able to function if he had gotten hurt, he meant to much. Before she had even crumbled to her knees before him in Sorgan, he had awoken something in her. Something she had not felt for decades, a sense of belonging. The Mandalorian only began to heighten that feeling too.

(Y/N) leaned against the durasteel wall, eyes never faltering from the sleeping child as she heard the cockpit door open. Heavy boots thudded down the ladder before Mando turned to face her, both of them inhaling greatly. “Hey.” She mumbled, eyes heavy with sleep. She was exhausted but she knew laid down on her small cot that she would not sleep anyways. Sleep never came to her easily despite how depleted her body was. Mando nodded once and approached them, the helmet tipping towards the peacefully resting child. (Y/N) too went back to watching the child, the sole purpose they were on this journey, facing trouble at every corner. He was worth it.

A leather hand moved in the corner of her vision, reaching down for something. She was tired, but still fast. Her hand snatched hold of Mando’s wandering hand, eyes wide in confusion. “What are you doing?”

His visor was looking down at the ground, “What’s in your boot?” (Y/N)’s blood turned colder than Hoth, the color draining from her face. She did not have to look to know what he saw peeking out from the black boot.

“Nothing of yours if that’s what you’re insinuating.” Her answer was rushed, tumbling out messily, but Mando sighed and nodded. Her hand slowly released his and they both moved back to watching the kid. The air was tense between them but (Y/N) knew it was not because of her unwillingness to reveal a single item.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help.” Mando breathed out.

Her (Y/E/C) eyes moved over to fixate on the beskar, “It’s okay, I’m used to taking care of myself.” They were silent once again and the comfort of her stiff cot called her name. (Y/N) spun to leave, but now the worn leather caught ahold of her hand. Their eyes found each other and she swore she could feel the ghost of Tatooine’s heat creep up the back of her neck.

“I know you are and so am I, but we…” The man before her trailed off searching for the correct words. He did not talk much nor express his feelings, (Y/N) knew that. “We don’t have to fight alone anymore.”

She knew he meant more by his words, that they now had each other’s backs, that they were no longer alone. Guilt flooded (Y/N)’s thoughts. She was hiding so much from him, more than any single person could bear. She wanted to tell him, but fear enclosed around her so thickly. If the truth came out, he would never look at her the same and she would lose the first sense of belonging she’s had in a long time. It did not matter anyway, lying was encoded in her and the truth was buried so deep, it felt lost and out of touch.

(Y/N) smiled weakly, her hand falling back to her side free, “Goodnight partner.”

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#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x fem!reader #star wars series #star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction #Pedro Pascal x reader #azwriting

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jbbuckybarnes · 4 years

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Drabbles for Friends - Samantha

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Warnings: Smut, 18+ A/N: This one is for @sassy-pelican and I wrote it in my notes app a while back after we talked about a situation like this. I had so much fun writing it and I’m glad I have someone that’s equally as gaga as me to share it with. And with that...here’s the MASTERLIST and a server OG:

Corrupted

You heard a knock at your door, not unusual in the evenings. Instead of the usual post-dinner ice cream heist you had Bucky with his Macbook on him in front of you. "Yeah?" "Can I come in?" "Sure." You closed the door behind him. "So, I have some questions about...sex nowadays." he mumbled a little shy. "Oh, yeah, sure." "Well, I don't know if you're aware but in the 40s you usually waited till you were married." he looked up. "Yeah, nothing wrong with being 100 and a virgin." you shrugged and sat down next to him. "So I've been online and..." "... watched porn?" He nodded. "Half of it is not realistic, just to take the shock away." you put your hands on his shoulder and he opened the laptop. "Do people really do this?" On the screen you saw BDSM porn, "Some people do. Definitely not from the beginning and most of them not this intense. Some people just like pain I guess. But it's not common to do it this intense." He scrolled down, "That's unrealistic." Another scroll & autoplay, "That's not how the average woman orgasms." End of the page, "Those aren't average dicks." He went silent, questioning internally if he should ask how many you've seen in your life. You took a sip from your goodnight tea before he mumbled, "Um, mine's...bigger." Resulting in you spiting out the tea you just drank, looking at him wide eyed. "Ho boy, you have to learn a lot about female anatomy and sex if you don't wanna hurt a woman then." You said, still a little surprised. "It's not as weird as I thought to talk about this with you." He sent another shy smile.

"If you need any advice or literally anything, just come to me. I won't make it weird, promise." You smiled, "The awkward facts are out of the way." "I mean, you could teach me if it's not that weird for you." He scratched his neck. "Like...friends with benefits or like a-" "-relationship. Yeah, if you don't mind, I mean this is a weird q-" He was interrupted by your sudden move onto his lap. "You've kissed before though." "Yeah." He grinned up at you before you craddled his face and kissed him. It turned a little bit more passionate than he expected, "This is usually the point where you-" Your hips were grabbed and pushed towards his center. "Lesson number one. Other than consent obviously. You can kiss me anywhere unless I tell you not to. You can undress me if I don't stop you. You're allowed to adventure my body and reactions, alright?" His left hand wandered under your shirt on your back, making you shiver. Teeth carefully biting your bottom lip. The hand wandered to the front, no bra since you were in your sleepwear, slowly massaging your boobs. Another shiver. "Good. Lesson two, you might need 10-20 minutes of this and similar things to get a woman wet enough for you. Although, I'd have to judge based on how big you are, you might have to do more." You bit your lip seductively and saw his jaw tick. "You like the talking aspect or should I shut up?" "Go on." he grumbled deep. "Hmm, your instincts kicking in, huh?" You smirked before your head was grabbed closer for a hungry kiss. "Damn." You reoriented yourself for a second, "Do you mind if I?" You tugged on his shirt, "No, darling." You uncovered a body that has been through a lot but still looked so untouched. "You don't necessarily want sex today, right? I could just tell you a bit more, show you what I can do." "You're taking the lead. Whatever you want, doll." Your hands wandered down on him, his eyes constantly looking at your amazed expression. "Give me your hand." He held out his right hand and you guided it between your legs. You pushed your shorts aside and let him brush over your damp underwear. "Darlin'!" he went wideeyed and heard you giggle. "You're doing this to me, you know? You make me wet." You said softspoken and saw him swallow. "Do I make you hard?" You whispered and watched him close his eyes in pleasure, trying to not moan. "Show me how hard I make you." You murmured, pulling on his sweatpants and hearing him groan softly. "Relax, I gotchu, honey." you whispered again as you got rid of the last layer, uncovering the true extend of 'Mine is bigger'. "Wow." You couldn't hold that comment back. "What?" he blushed a bit shy again. "I hoped you were joking but, wow. You'd need to eat a woman out before having fun with her." You thought out loud. "Eating out?" He dipped his head. "You know, put your head between her thighs and..." "I assume that's a lesson soon." He smirked with a dark undertone, oh, that man was willing to drive a woman crazy. "You bet it will be." you grinned as you reached down to put your hand around his length. "Fuck!" His head fell back. "Relax and enjoy, okay? This will feel good. I promise." you whispered as you started pumping him under hums and groans. "Lay back." You softly pushed him back before going onto your knees on the floor in front of the bed. "What are you- Fuuuck." Your mouth found its way around his cock. "Holy shit, darling." His hands grabbed onto your fitted sheets, slowly undoing them from the mattress. "Don't stop doing that." he murmured. The hand not around his base went to cup his balls and with the sound of your fitted sheet ripping you felt him shoot spurts of white into your mouth with a deep growl. "Fuck," he whispered out of breath. "Did that feel good?" you grinned climbing back on top of him. "That was...amazing. Damn, darling." He grabbed you down for a kiss. "You wanna feel how wet that made me?" You whispered and saw him shiver. "Put your hand into my panties and be very gentle, alright?" You watched him slowly do as he was told and look up at you to gauge a reaction, "You're doing good." His finger went over your clit and you hummed, "Oh, I learned that women like this a lot." "Most women can only come from this." His eyes went wide, "Only 25% of women orgasm because of a dick inside of them. Which is why porn is so misleading." "But you still want me to explore, right." He smirked and went further, closer to your wet channel. "Put two fingers inside of me." He looked up at you with a reluctant expression before doing it. "Is it supposed to be so..." "Tight?" "Yeah." "That's normal. That's why women need to be incredibly wet for men like you to...you know." "Okay, okay..." "Now curl the fingers towards you- Fuck." You closed your eyes. "Woah, women DO have an on-button." He murmured. "Well, some women won't feel shit when you do that. Others will. All women react differently. It's so important to ask them what they like." You opened your eyes again. "And what do you like?" He smirked. "A mouth on my clit and two fingers inside of me." You whispered and watched him bite his lip. "Sounds like something I should learn." "You want to watch me get off?" You asked softly as his fingers left you. "Do you have...um." "Yes, I have sex toys. Should I show you and use them?" "Oh, so that's common?" "Mostly, yeah." You opened the bedside drawer and got out a little bag. "What does this do?" "You put it over or around your clit. Feels amazing." "And this?" "Oh, that goes inside." "Do these feel better than...men?" "Mostly. But I like sex cause I'm close to someone. You know?" "Yeah." "Which one?" "That one." "Uh, that'll make me come fast. You wanna watch up close or get off too? I don't mind either." "You're not an object, darling." "I know. Answer the question, baby." "Umm." "Pull off my pants." Another jaw tick and he carefully removed what you were wearing. "Push my legs apart." You murmured and he did with a bite of his lip. "Woah, that's all from what we just did?" "What can I say, you turn me on quite a bit." A cheeky smile was interchanged. You placed the vibrator with the two ends around your clit, having it push open his view even more. "Touch yourself, for me, okay?" You bit your lip, got a distracted nod back and pushed the button. When you started to moan you saw him move his hand around his dick, when you started whimpering you saw him look you up and down before fixing his eyes onto your center. When you started to tense and shake with groans and moans he encouraged you, stroked your legs. When your chest quickly rose up and you put your free hand over your mouth he watched white cream leave your body. His too, but he didn't pay attention to that. You were still panting and shaking when he crawled over you, "That looked like it felt awesome." A dumb smirk was on his face, "God, you can't just lay over me like that." "Yes, I can. Didn't you say it might be easier to fuck you if you you already came?" He grinned and you felt his cock growing hard again. "We can try." you whispered a little surprised by his eagerness. "Guide me." "Let your instinct guide you...and maybe your softne- fuck yes." He slowly pushed into you. "God, so tight." He groaned. "So big." You whimpered back. "Gosh, darling. You feel so-" he growled into your ear. "Fuck, you hit that spot so good." The moment he bottomed out he groaned and looked down at you with a smile, "I understand the whole deal now." "You can just manhandle me however you need me. Want you to have a good time." "I'll take you up on that offer." He murmured before drawing back and pushing back into you, making you moan out. "Faster, Bucky, please!" You panted. "Alright, doll." He drove into you faster and faster, getting moan after moan after moan out of you. "Darling, want you to come with me." he whispered into your ear, your face grabbed by his other hand, driving into your body so deep. "Yesyesyes. Bucky, I'm gonna-" He felt you squeeze around his dick and felt a new level of bliss. "Fuck, darling, that feels amazing." "You like how nice I squeeze around your cock?" You bit your lip. "I like how you just say what you want and get so fucking dirty. Holy shit." he panted on top of you before falling down onto the bed next to you. "I corrupted you, huh?" You chuckled cuddling up to him. "I want you to keep corrupting me if that's what corruption feels like." he grumbled before pressing a kiss into your hair.

(You get a cookie if you understand the two pics in this post)

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hey-hamlet · 5 years

Text

cold hands and warm hearts (he cares, i promise you)

From his cocoon of blankets, Izuku sent a pitiful glare at his heater. His stubbornly broken heater. Its little red light blinked at him mockingly.

He hadn’t realised his heater wasn’t working until the nights had started to cool off. No matter how many times he pressed the button on the innocent-looking little box it simply refused to spit out so much as a warm breeze. He allowed himself one more moment of self-pity before he curled into a tight little ball and screwed his eyes shut. “Faster I get to sleep, faster I warm up.” He whispered to himself, nose twitching at the warmth of his breath.

---

Building a dorm so rapidly is bound to cause problems. Bad luck it happens to the three too stubborn to say anything about it.

Also on AO3! Fic under the cut.

From his cocoon of blankets, Izuku sent a pitiful glare at his heater. His stubbornly broken heater. Its little red light blinked at him mockingly.

He hadn’t realised his heater wasn’t working until the nights had started to cool off. No matter how many times he pressed the button on the innocent-looking little box it simply refused to spit out so much as a warm breeze. At first, it wasn’t so bad, he could just pull on more blankets. But now he could see his breath in the air, the tip of his nose stinging with cold. He supposed it wasn’t too much worse than the winter his mother and he had no heating, but at least then they’d had piles of hot water bottles to keep them warm. And she’d found money to fix it before it got too bitterly cold, even if they had to be a little stricter with their food budget than usual.

He was broken out of his reverie with a violent and involuntary shiver. He allowed himself one more moment of self-pity before he curled into a tight little ball and screwed his eyes shut. “Faster I get to sleep, faster I warm up.” He whispered to himself, nose twitching at the warmth of his breath.

He awoke just as cold as he’d fallen asleep. Scratch that, he was colder – a night of laying still having sapped the warmth from his muscles. Pushing down the deep need to just curl up tighter and pray he warmed up, he stretched out an arm to grab his phone. His fingers were so stiff and cold it took a solid minute of fumbling just to pick it up.

His second problem was that the glass screen was freezing. So cold that his breath was fogging up the screen. And his hands were so cold the phones touch screen was struggling to pick anything up. Two frustrated sighs later, he unlocked his phone.

4:15 am. On a Sunday. He fought the urge to let out an inarticulate scream of frustration and instead buried his face in his pillow, absently hoping it might suffocate him. He had no such luck.

He sure wasn’t getting anything done like this, and there was no way he’d catch any more sleep in a room this cold. He took a deep breath and levered himself out of bed, uncovered toes numb against the carpet. Chanting a quiet “suck it up, suck it up” to himself, he piled his towel, warmest clothes and soap into his arms and all but ran down to the showers.

The tiles stung his feet so he hoped awkwardly from foot to foot as he waited for the water to heat up. Thankfully for his fraying nerves, it didn’t take too long. Shucking off his clothes, he all but dived under the nearly scalding water, irritation soothing rapidly as the water warmed his skin. The contrast of burning skin but cold muscle underneath was an interesting one admittedly, but not an enjoyable one.

Izuku jumped about a foot in the air when he heard the sound of the bathroom door opening. “H-hello? Apologies, I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be awake so early.” An unmistakable voice chattered.

“Iida?” Izuku questioned, voice only just audible above the water.

“A – ah!” Iida responded, still sounding like he was seconds away from bitting off the tip of his tongue with chattering teeth. “Mid- Midoriya! I was just trying to warm up, I –“ he trailed off a little sheepishly, sounds of him getting ready for his own shower filling the empty space. “My heater isn’t exactly, well, functioning.” The water turned on and Izuku had to try a little harder to hear his friend. “I suppose it should really be able to handle it, as a hero in training, but-“

“It’s so cold!” Izuku exclaimed. Iida laughed. He sounded a little less chattery.

“I take it your room wasn’t particularly warm either?”

“I wish, it was freezing,” He whined softly, trying to keep the warm water out of his hair. It was delightful now but would be considerably less so when it cooled down. “My heater isn’t working either.” Iida hummed in agreement. They finished their showers in comfortable silence, Izuku waiting an extra minute in the now warm bathrooms for Iida to finish.

Hesitantly, Izuku pushed against the now damp door. Immediately, a blast of cold air hit him in the face, stinging his eyes. He scrambled behind Iida, pushing the other boy out the door first. He let out a few spluttered complaints but allowed the smaller boy to use him as a warm shield, pushing him towards the kitchen. From his position behind his unwilling shield, he didn’t see the figure already in the kitchen. But he could hear her cursing.

“Uraraka?” Iida asked cautiously, as if he were approaching a particularly angry cat. Izuku peaked his head out from around Iida’s ridiculously broad chest to see Uraraka glaring angrily at a slowly boiling kettle. She turned towards the voice, a glare still fixed on her face until she realised who the other two were.

“Iida? Midoriya? What are you doing up?” Her teeth were chattering, even underneath the layers of clothing that served to make her look like an overstuffed teddy bear.

“Too cold.” Iida and Izuku said at much the same time. Uraraka let out a sympathetic chuckle.

“Same, my heater is, and always has been, busted.”

“Me too,” Izuku whined, reluctant to move away from Iida and his radiating warmth but not feeling brave enough to hug him.

“My heater wasn’t functional either.” Iida trailed off thoughtfully, also opting to huddle beside his friend. Izuku’s face twisted as Uraraka began to fix hot drinks for the three of them.

“You don’t think – you don’t think this was a logical ruse? Do you?” They all shuddered.

Choosing not to think about that for the moment, they shuffled over to the couch, drinks in hand. Izuku all but stick his nose into his coffee to take in the warm steam it let off. Uraraka huddled onto the couch, pulling the two boys with her. Ignoring any possible personal space they may have wanted, she draped the ugly but delightfully soft bootleg All Might blanket around the three of them, pulling them all in close. The warmth of each other and the drinks, coupled with the ungodly time in the morning, made the three of them drowsy as they sipped from mismatched cups. Izuku would later blame that drowsy state for the embarrassingly high pitched squeak he made when he heard the front door opening.

In a reflex borne out of a really rough year for their class, the three of them all slipped off the couch and into combat stances, squinting through the darkness to see the figure in the doorframe. Izuku let his quirk flicker ominously.

“Kids? What the fu- the hell are you doing up? It’s not even five am yet.” Uraraka let out a relieved sigh at the gravelly voice of their teacher, and the three of them relaxed where they stood. She promptly plonked herself back down on the couch as did Iida. His need to be polite to their teacher was seemingly outweighed by his need to feel his fingers.

“Sensei?” Izuku questioned as his teacher cast off his capture weapon. “What are you doing awake?” Aizawa sent him the driest look Izuku thought he’d even seen.

“My patrol just finished. Why in gods name are the three of you up?” None of the said anything beyond awkward mumbles. Aizawa eyebrow inched higher. Still nothing.

“Iida.” He growled, apparently choosing the boy as the weakest secret-keeping link.

“Our heaters are broken, Sensei.” He blurted out. Aizawa had apparently chosen wisely.

“It’s ok though!” Izuku interjected nervously, emotional state a little too fragile in the early morning for his teacher to tell him how little he cared. “It’s not that bad, really!” He was fully aware the beds of his nails were blue.

“Yeah!” Uraraka jumped in, looking just as pinched as Izuku, “We’re tough! It’ll be fine!” Iida just squirmed under Aizawa’s glare. He just sighed, settling himself on the couch across from them.

“Why didn’t you want me to know they weren’t working? Did the three of you manage to break them or something?” A chorus of indignant ‘No!’s followed. Aizawa raised an eyebrow. “Then?”

Uraraka broke first. “Idon’thavethemoneytofixit,” she blurted out in one breath, face flushing even pinker in the cold.

“Pardon?”

“I, well my parents,” she shrunk down in her seat, Iida and Izuku almost reflexively pressing in closer to her to offer support, “We don’t really have the money to pay for repairs for something like a heater.” Aizawa just nodded, turning to fix his gaze on Iida. The boy sighed.

“Well, I didn’t want to – I didn’t want to cause trouble for something so minor.” It was Uraraka’s turn to lean into Iida this time, the poor boy looking like a kicked puppy. Aizawa sighed, turning to face Izuku last. Izuku sunk into his seat, face burning slightly in shame.

“Didn’t think you’d care, Sensei.” If Izuku had been looking Aizawa in the eyes, he might have seen the flash of something like pain, or guilt. But, from where his eyes were fixed on the floor, he only saw the edges of his own building tears. “It’s – it’s not a big problem anyway. I can’t – I can’t pay to fix it either and – and I��m already – “ Uraraka drew him in closer. He tried to will back his tears, embarrassed about crying over something so minor. “I didn’t want to be a problem child.” He all but whispers.

Aizawa lets out a heavy sigh. The three students huddle together, eyes downcast in embarrassment. Iida shifts, as if to apologise again, but anything any of them could have said was cut off as their teacher wrapped them in a strong hug. Izuku jerked back instinctively before shyly returning the hug. Aizawa lingered for a moment before pulling back, coughing to hid his own embarrassment. It did nothing to hide the pink tinge to his cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” The statement was unexpected from their teacher Izuku and Iida opened their mouths to protest almost instantly. Aizawa held up a hand to quiet them down. “No, listen. I’m sorry I’ve made you feel like you can’t come to me for things like this. UA built these dorms so quickly we were fully expecting problems to arise. You shouldn’t have to suffer for the shortcuts someone else took.” The three of them nodded, Izuku stubbornly trying to wipe his weeping eyes. Aizawa smiled, a much softer smile than the three of them were used to seeing. “I’ll find you three some more blankets and you can get another hour or two of sleep down here while I make some calls. Sound fair?” Izuku smiled softly, Iida nodded an affirmative and Uraraka sent their teacher a mock salute. He chuckled quietly, before padding off to find something warm.

Shouta returned ten or so minutes later to see his kids curled into each other, sleeping peacefully. He carefully pried the near-empty cup of green tea from Iida’s grip, pulled the blanket back over Midoriya’s arm from where it had slipped down, and brushed a stray hair from the corner of Uraraka’s slightly open mouth.

Gently piling the blankets he’d gathered around them, he wandered off to his rooms to make some angry phone calls. He wasn’t going to let his kids suffer needlessly on his watch.

#bnha #bnha fic #my fic #midoriya izuku #uraraka ochako #Iida Tenya #aizawa shouta #eraserhead #Midoriya #Izuku #iida #uraraka #this is just some dumb soft i wanted to write after the harrowing experience the time loop fic was

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katianegreyson · 4 years

Text

Birthday Bash!

[Warning: Contains mild gore and violence. Read at your own risk.]

She had been back in the city for over a week, yet remained homebound. She had watched the fervor of activity from her apartment window. People flowing through the pathways below, growing bolder as the sunset. Nightlife in the Mage Quarter was always questionable. Drunken behaviors that often resulted in walks of shame out of the alleyways. Fights. Loud tirades. Those manicured lawns housed quite the show, one she wasn't always so hesitant to join in some small part.

However, melancholia had taken root, as it often did after her trips to the mountains. Too many memories, not to mention, the painful reminder of someone's absence. It generally took a week or so before the urge to stop staring at the empty pages of a journey book or out a window took hold. A small span of hope and optimism before reality sunk in once more. Not even time spent in her aerial silks sped up the process or eased her state of mind.

She put off rejoining civilization for as long as possible. In the end, it was the barren state of her pantry that drove her to dastardly things like putting on pants and running a brush through her hair. Sadly, society demanded she not be bare-assed and disheveled looking. Well, most of society. She knew a few who wouldn't complain.

It was early morning when she finally left her apartment, the predawn hour promising her the best choices at the city market. What was the saying? The early bird gets the worm.

Well, this bird wanted steak and eggs.

And bacon. Lots of bacon.

As she descended the steps to the small shop beneath her apartment, it was impossible to miss the brightly wrapped package left for her. The bow was enormous and the counter the box rested on was covered in a gods awful amount of glitter.

Kate loosed a long sigh. Of course her birthday wasn't missed by the proprietor. Such information was required in the rental contract. If it were up to her, she would spend the day like any other. Clearly, her landlord had different ideas. It was as if she could hear her voice, telling Kate in a motherly, (nosey) overbearing tone.

"A birthday should be cherished and celebrated."

Knowing she would be faced with far worse repercussions than a mild annoyance if she ignored the box, Kate huffed out a curse and walked over to the damn thing. Lifting the lid, she found the inside stuffed full of tissue paper in the most obnoxious pinks known to man. Shaking her head, she peeled layer after layer, silently cursing the woman until the last piece of paper was pulled free.

A sharp inhale was Kate's only outward sign of the sight within. No fancy bauble or awful outfit she would have to wear. This was far more personal.

The woman she had been cursing moments before stared back at her with milky dead eyes, a look of pure horror frozen onto her face. Jagged shreds of flesh were spread out at the neck, looking as if it was torn rather than cut cleanly off.

The head rested on a pile of roses, a gruesome message she understood all too well.

Why couldn't things just stay dead these days?

Floorboards creaked softly behind her, a moment later, quietly letting her know she wasn't alone and the 'guest' was an amateur.

She should have just stayed home.

The sound of a single shot echoed through the empty pathways of The Quarter. While sound would have been drowned out later in the day, the early hour drew unwanted attention to the thunderous boom.

Standing outside the shop that prided itself on pyrotechnics, Maddox sucked in the last drag of his cigarette, flicking the spent butt away. The sound reached him the moment the occasional vice fled his fingertips. Poor timing, or perhaps perfect, and the man dove for it. He was after all smoking near a place that was combustible.

The sudden boom led him to assume the worst. Moments later, when he realized he was still in one piece, more or less, he pushed himself up and began cursing someone's mother. Grass stains clashed with his token grease stains, not that he cared. The noise wasn't a concern either until the sounds of a struggle carried his way.

Lads being lads, likely. At least that is what he thought until he heard the telltale shrieks of a woman.

"Fuck…"

His apathy was overshadowed by his protective nature in an instant. Taking off in a sprint, he followed the muffled sounds of conflict through the manicured walkways. Twists and turns didn't help. Fucking city layout.

When the noise died down, Maddox feared he was too late. Lost in a maze of purple rooftops and decorative fescue. It wasn't until he skidded around a corner that he caught sight of the group of men, fighting to load a bound and gagged redhead into a wagon.

She was giving them hell, small little thing, covered in blood and full of fight. Every time they got close to loading her, she wriggled in the most awkward way possible, causing one of the four brutes to lose their grip. It wasn't until one genius used the butt of his gun to deliver a well-placed blow to her head. It didn't knock her out, but she was stunned enough to go limp.

Maddox wasn't confident that he could take on four men, even if a pair looked wounded. So, he improvised.

Pulling out a stick of dynamite from the bag at his hip, he lit the long braided fuse and shouted to bring attention to himself.

"Oi! How about we put the lass down, eh?" He was walking closer, slowly. "Nice and easy. Then you can leave with what pieces she left you with. Or… I can blow all those pieces up."

"Got to tell ya, I personally would prefer to not spend the tail end of the morn being scraped into a glass jar."

Waving the explosive, Maddox eyed the dwindling fuse, sparks flying as time ticked away. "Tick tock, lads. What's it gonna be?"

There was no nice and easy as they dropped their prisoner, the lawn doing little to cushion the fall. A glaring sneer came from who he assumed was the leader as he pointed with his chin to the lass on the grass.

"You bought her a day, tops. C'mon boys. We can come back later." Clearly they didn't want to deal with an audience. Though as they left, a careful eye was kept in case they had a mind to beat his ass.

Maddox waited until the last few seconds, after the quad of men was long gone, before he pulled the fuse free of the explosive cylinder. Tossing the sparking twine into the grass, tucking the rest of the stick in his back pocket, he went to see to the woman he just saved. From what, he wasn't sure.

With his luck, she might be more hazardous to his health than the men who tried carting her off. Fate was a bitch that way.

"Did you have to bite me when I pulled the gag free?"

Kate didn't answer at first, walking sorely to her bathroom, the bruises she earned making her body ache with every step. Pulling the length of silk free from the mirror, she looked at the sorry state she was in. Busted lip, bruised and bleeding temple. The blood had already started to cake and congeal in her hair, matting it to the side of her head.

Ripping off the sleeve to her bloodied shirt, she uncovered the bullet hole she had been gifted with, if it could really be called that. The shot hadn't buried a bullet in her flesh, but it was too deep to really be called a graze.

She was going to need stitches. First, she was going to need coffee. The blow to the head hurt worse than the wound on her arm, the pain making her nauseous. That alone was a sure sign of the damage it wrought. Sleep was now the enemy.

Grabbing a clean towel, she ripped the absorbent cloth into a few thin strips, shouting out to her guest or... savior.

"There is whiskey in the bedside table. Bring it to me."

Muttering as he fetched the bottle, Maddox brought it to her, standing in the bathroom doorway as he passed it over. He was older than Kate, his salt and pepper hair cropped short. He didn't boast a beard in the traditional sense. Just a thick stubble that shaded his face.

His skin was weathered, Kate's guess was from the sun or some manner of heat. He carried it well, the deep lines adding character to his face rather than make him look old. His eyes, however, were his most striking feature. Shadowed by his darker brow, the pale blue stood out like pools of ice, yet they held none of the expected coldness. Just warmth and compassion.

"Probably not the best time to drink, lass." He commented, catching the look she gave him in the mirror.

"You're not my father or my husband. And while I do appreciate the assistance, it doesn't mean you're suddenly entitled to tell me what to do." Her tone wasn't harsh, just a matter of fact.

Nodding to her words, he shrugged. "Fair enough."

Despite her pointed remark, none of the whiskey made it to her lips once the bottle was opened. Instead, it was poured over her wound. Kate pursed her lips, but the groan of pain and displeasure was hardly muffled.

When she finally spoke through clenched teeth, it was to complain about the waste of good whiskey. Seems she would have rather drank it than use it as a disinfectant before she worked to bandage her arm.

It took her a few clumsy attempts, her guest clearly knowing better than to offer assistance at the moment. Finally, though, she tied the thin strips in place, tying them off and tightening the knots with her teeth.

As she turned, she nodded her thanks and sighed, knowing she was about to ask too much of a stranger.

"Don't suppose you would be kind enough to not mention this to the guard. Chances are, they were bribed to patrol elsewhere. I have a feeling my landlord's death would be easily pinned on me. Would rather not get thrown in The Stocks."

Maddox furrowed his brow. "Dead landlord?"

"Yeah. Her head is gift wrapped downstairs. Literally." She admitted honestly.

Scratching his stubble jaw as he grimaced, he shook his head. "Lass, I don't know what you're into. But smells like deep shit. You sure you don't want to involve the authorities?"

Kate nodded but it was clear the movement brought on a wave of discomfort. Gingerly touching her temple, she felt the abused flesh trickling with fresh blood. Head wounds were a bitch.

"Alright. I'll keep out of it. I take it you've got things handled now?"

It was a polite way to excuse himself and get the hell out of dodge. One she thankfully indulged.

"Mhm." She hummed, waving him towards the door. "Thanks again…"

"Maddox." He finished when she gave him a look to let him know she hadn't caught his name.

"Maddox." She repeated, following up with her own simple introduction. "Kate."

"Stay out of trouble then, Kate." Pointing to her bloodied shirt. "Not gonna die when I leave, right?"

Looking down, she saw more blood soaked into the fabric. Luckily, it wasn't anything to worry about.

"No. Not mine. Compliments of one of my abductors."

There was a grunt of acknowledgment as he waved his farewell, vanishing through the door and closing it quietly behind him.

Alone again.

She waited until she couldn't hear him beyond the door, wanting to make sure he was gone. The moment silence fell, Kate sank down to her knees, letting the pain that she had hidden consume her. She was too stubborn to show weakness in front of another.

Alone, however, she could be hurt and broken all she wanted.

Introducing: Maddox E. Zale

Following the story arc of #Fallen Roses.

#happy birthday #writings #fallen roses #what's in the box?!

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galionne-vibin · 5 years

Text

With my Guidance - Chapter 1: First Companions

Title: With my Guidance

Main Characters: Rodan, King Ghidorah

Summary: There were many things Rodan never expected to happen. Learning that Ghidorah had in fact survived his battle against Godzilla was one. Finding out he had done so by reverting to a hatchling was another. Becoming an impromptu mentor for said hatchling was a third. And yet, all it took was a single night for all three scenarios to become reality.

Read on AO3 or below

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So here’s the first chapter to my first ever Godzilla fic! It’s super cheesy with next to no drama, but I hope it’s still enjoyable!

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It was a cool, cloudless night over Boston. The city ruins still stood tall, somehow, gutted skyscrapers threatening to topple over at the slightest push. It had been a few weeks since the grand battle between the king of monsters and his three-headed rival had taken place, annihilating the entire city. No human had yet dared to return to the devastated area due to the radioactive fallout. There wasn’t a single living being for miles around.

… That was, except for the colossal bird-like creature rummaging through the debris.

The winged titan was letting out low, gentle caws as it pushed aside broken wooden beams, singed cement chunks and shards of glass with its beak.

Rodan didn’t know precisely what had drawn him back to these cursed battlegrounds. After everything that had taken place there ; after everything he had been through in just a few days ; it seemed more likely he would simply disappear into another volcano and hibernate for a century or two. And, truth be told, that was his original plan. Once Godzilla had dismissed the assembly of titans, Rodan had flown away and made himself a new nest in Fiji’s Mount Taveuni volcano as Isla de Mara was now a dying wasteland. The inhabitants had watched, in slight anguish and awe, as the Fire Demon built itself a new refuge on their land. Once the work was done Rodan had plunged right into the bubbling pool of magma and let the heat take away the many aches and pains crippling his exhausted body. Ghidorah had left many deep scars on him ; burns from his gravity beam, slashes and scratches from his claws, bite marks… But the wound that kept burning and aching no matter what Rodan did was the stab wound he had received from Mothra’s stinger.

Oh, he deserved it. He knew he did.

Part of him was still having a hard time believing he had actually fought with the queen ; that he had attacked her… He had joined Ghidorah willingly, that was a fact. It was his and every other titan’s role to obey the alpha. At the time he thought he would just remain on standby and wait for Godzilla’s inevitable return ; that he’d wait it out and not cause more trouble. But there was something… Something instinctive that made him act out under Ghidorah’s command. Suddenly every order the new king gave was his personal mission to accomplish. It sent his mind into an unmanageable frenzy, his body bubbling with excitement, adrenaline and a desire to strike. It would have been easy to dismiss his loss of control as being born from his fear of Ghidorah, or maybe even the new Alpha’s powerful, dominant aura taking him over. But Rodan knew he couldn’t pin everything on the three-headed monster. It wasn’t that easy. He’d let himself go as well… He’d let himself go when he should have fought back. Had he tried, he might have been able to resist his influence. Instead he let go and allowed his newfound lust to kill to take him over.

Yeah… He deserved to be stabbed. He just hoped the Queen would be able to forgive him.

Rodan felt a sudden twinge in his gut and moved to another pile of rubble.

It wasn’t the first time he’d felt something like that- in fact these odd twinges had been occurring for a few days now and were part of what had made him leave his volcano. He had tried to ignore them at first, thinking they might just be stemming from his wounds and general malaise. But they had continued, accompanied by a growing feeling of urgency ; and became so strong he ended up leaving the comfort of his nest to go wherever his gut feeling would take him. This was how, after a few hours, he ended up landing back in Boston. He couldn’t help the dreadful feeling creeping in the back of him mind. Something felt… Wrong about the situation, but he couldn’t stop himself from digging. It was as though he knew he was about to uncover something terrible ; but something that needed to be uncovered nonetheless…

He took a step back and scratched at the scorched debris with his talons, removing another layer of dirt. He dipped his head again and pushed more rubble to the side, unearthing a heavy slab of concrete which haphazardly rested over two crushed vehicles. The twinge in his gut suddenly grew so strong it was almost nauseating ; and the sense of urgency that had been gnawing at his mind rushed back to him, hitting him with full force to the point where he was almost lightheaded.

Right there.

Rodan found himself trembling with anticipation as he lowered his head, pressing his horns against the cold concrete and pushing with all his strength. The metal scratched and screeched under the moving weight, sending sparks flying everywhere. Rodan groaned and huffed, taking a step back before headbutting the slab one last time, toppling it over. A thick cloud of dust and ashes rose from the ground, masking the area and making the titan cough and retch loudly, shaking his head vigorously. After a few minutes however the cloud finally settled, and suddenly he saw it.

A minuscule, trembling heap of golden scales ; covered in a grimy layer of soil and soot.

“No…”

Hesitantly, the pterosaur brushed the tip of his beak over the scales, waiting for a reaction. Almost immediately the small creature shifted and let out a soft whimper, opening its wings and uncovering its body- as well as all three of its little heads.

“Ghidorah-?!”

Rodan stumbled back with a strangled cry of surprise. For a moment he wondered if maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him ; if maybe he was hallucinating… But no. No matter how much he shook his head or blinked, the minuscule hydra was still there. Clear as day. The pterosaur took a moment to compose himself before leaning closer to inspect it. The three heads, the golden scales, the two tails… There was no doubt about it ; this truly was Ghidorah… Even the scent was the same- albeit not as overpowering. Rodan sat down as he kept staring at it, still in disbelief.

Granted, Ghidorah surviving the assault wasn’t a complete impossibility. Most titans were not only incredibly resilient, they also had astonishing regeneration capabilities which usually tied into whichever energy or element gave them their life force. In Godzilla’s case it was radioactivity, in Rodan’s it was fire and heat. Should they be mortally wounded, being bathed in these elements would bring them enough energy to repair their bodies. There had in fact been a few times before where Rodan had returned from the brink of death by simply diving into an active volcano or lying down in the middle of a forest fire and absorbing the flames. Mothra herself had an even more complex ability the volcanic kaiju still didn’t fully understand. All he knew was that it involved her reverting to her larval stage one way or another after ‘death’ and going through the whole maturation process again. In a way, something not too dissimilar from what he had here…

The question now, though, was what was he supposed to do?

What was he supposed to do?! This was Ghidorah ; Godzilla’s lifelong rival and the titan who had attempted to destroy the entire planet- and now he was back. He couldn’t just leave him there! His first thought was to simply call over the king to let him deal with the situation. After all, this was his job ; he could take care of it. But then again…

Rodan looked down at the hatchling. It was chirping and squeaking softly, curling its wings back around itself as it shivered in the cooling air. It was tiny ; barely over 3 feet long without the tails and didn’t yet seem able to hold either of its heads off of the ground. Its eyes seemed to remain closed as well. And it looked so weak and fragile… Just a snap of the larger titan’s beak and he could crush all of its little bones-

Rodan winced and shook his head as he felt a sudden wave of unease wash over him. The image that had flashed through his mind was… Distressing, to say the least. He wasn’t sure why however- he’d had no qualms about killing smaller creatures (such as humans) before. But this tiny hatchling felt different… Watching it squirm on the ground and struggle to keep warm brought forth a new assortment of emotions the Fire Demon had never experienced before. He knew this was Ghidorah ; The Destroyer of Worlds ; yet he somehow couldn’t bring himself to harm the tiny hydra…

As he pondered about the situation he began unconsciously stepping away from the hatchling, mumbling to himself. But just as he got a few feet away, he suddenly felt a twinge in his gut again. This time however it was also accompanied by a soft sound and as he turned around, he saw the hydra was chirping in his direction and seemed to be looking for him. The winged kaiju blinked a few times, before hesitantly approaching the hatchling.

“Did you just… Call out to me?”

The small hydra didn’t answer as it was probably too young to even understand the titans’ spoken language, but Rodan had little doubt that’s exactly what had happened- and suddenly it all clicked. The twinges, the urgency to fly back here… The little one had been calling out to him through the hivemind titans all shared ; and somehow Rodan had heard it from the other side of the world. And not only that, but it had called him specifically… Rodan, the lonely king on a lonely mountain…

He opened a wing and delicately set it over the small kaiju, blanketing him comfortably against the cool nocturnal breeze. The three heads cooed softly as they blindly nuzzled closer to each other and the sight brought a comforting feeling to the pterosaur as he looked down at them. The hatchling had called out to him specifically… Because he was Ghidorah’s only companion. Rodan closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. He still remembered the extra-terrestrial kaiju telling him about his plight- being born on a dying planet with no choice but to flee ; never finding a world that wouldn’t attempt to kill or enslave him… Hope to find a new home turned into fear. Fear turned into despair. Despair turned into anger. Anger turned into overflowing, destructive rage…

Destructive rage turned into a vital need to annihilate.

It still surprised Rodan how easily the false king had trusted him with this tale. Maybe it was because he was about to burn down the planet anyway. Maybe it was to get things off his chest. Maybe it was to sway his new servant even further to his side with a sob story. Or maybe he knew they both led lonely existences ; and maybe (just maybe) he trusted Rodan just enough to understand… To be his second in command and first companion in destruction…

It was a tempting thought ; believing someone would put this much trust in him after all these years of solitude. As the last of his species and the lowest step in the titan hierarchy (even more so now), fighting by Ghidorah’s side had been an incredibly invigorating experience. It made him feel in control, powerful ; like he did matter at least a little bit on this vast, ever-changing planet.

All this because for just a moment, he wasn’t alone in the world anymore…

Because Ghidorah was there.

Rodan sighed deeply as he stood up. He’d made his decision. It was certainly one he was going to regret sooner or later… But for now, at least, it was clear what he had to do.

He looked over to the hatchling and saw it was fast asleep. With as much caution as he could he leaned back on one foot and slowly, delicately closed the talons of his other foot around it before gently lifting it off the ground. He made sure it was safely nestled in before taking off, keeping that leg closer to his body to keep it warm.

It was going to be a long flight home…

#godzilla #godzilla king of the monsters #godzilla fanfic #rodan #ghidorah #with my guidance

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whimperwoods · 4 years

Text

The Drowner 4 - Bandages

Based on the first Witcher game, but you shouldn’t need any knowledge of the franchise. I haven’t watched the show or read the books, but I loved the one game I played?

Continuation of these: 1, 2, 3

The man came back with a small roll of linen cloth and knelt down beside her, placing one hand gently on the side of her arm, beneath her ruined shoulder. She whined in the back of her throat.

“Alright,” he said, gruff but quiet, “No biting.”

She whined again, a yes, the best she could manage through the heavy, panting breathing she couldn’t calm.

His hands grasped her again, but this time instead of lifting her completely, he just helped her sit up. “Stay still,” he ordered. His voice was stern, and she found herself whimpering, too frightened to stay quiet.

His hands continued their gentle ministrations as he layered the fabric over her wounded shoulder and then bound it securely in place. She flinched as he moved toward the injury and yelped when he tightened the binding, but he didn’t respond to either, and then the hole in her shoulder was covered, where he’d have to uncover it to tear any farther into her, and that was already a relief.

“There’s a girl,” he said, “Now keep your arm away from your side so I can get your ribs.”

She got ahold of herself just enough to get the deeper breath she needed to trill her agreement softly this time.

One of his eyebrows shot up, but he said nothing but “alright” as he started covering the scratches in her side.

Her hip wound was hard to bind, awkward enough that she ended up standing on her one good leg, shaking with exhaustion and blood loss, and had to cling to the front of the man’s leather armor to stay upright in spite of the dizziness in her head. Her claws did nothing to carve into it, and she was certain, as she held on, that she didn’t have the strength in her to make any dent in it if she tried.

Her breaths came in hard and came out as quiet, high-pitched whines, and it was a relief when he lifted her off her one leg and laid her back down on the ground. She went willingly, trying to make a noise he would recognize as grateful, but ending up with a strangled sound halfway between a trill and a whine.

Her eyes were full of tears, and the man stopped for a moment to trail his gloved hand over her temple and along the back of her head and neck.

“Just the leg left,” he said, “catch your breath.”

He didn’t wait for her to breathe, just knelt down closer to her than he had before and propped her knee up on his thigh so he could reach around her leg without her having to hold it up.

She tried to breathe slower, deeper, and she finally stopped the whining she knew had told him too much of her weakness already. He shifted slightly, jarring her knee, and she whimpered at the sudden rush of pain the movement brought on.

“Sorry.” He patted the side of her leg above the knee, one of the few spots on her leg that wasn’t torn open or bandaged.

When he moved again, propping her foot up to work on her lower leg, she felt nothing. Not his hands. Not his bandages. Not even the tightening of the bindings that had made her squeak every other time.

He studied her face, eyes narrowed. Then he laid his hand on top of one of the bandaged wounds on her calf and squeezed. She felt nothing, but whined softly in confusion, because she knew she should.

“Bad sign. But we’ll see if it heals itself. If not, you’ll need magic. Might be able to brew something. Don’t want to poison you, though. We’ll see.”

Then he just looked at her, his eyes boring into her until she had to fight not to whine or whimper under his gaze. Instead, she turned her face away, trying not to look back, to forget the way his eyes seemed to be taking her apart for study. Her whole body throbbed dully now, the wounds less painful now that they were covered instead of staying open to the cool, dry night air.

******

Geralt’s brow furrowed as the drowner hid her face in the dirt again, looking away from him. She was weak and pliant, now, and he couldn’t be sure how much of the latter was really just because of the former.

He’d met a talking ghoul. That had definitely happened. And a den of vampires who seemed not to be killing anyone. Dandelion said he’d had a vampire friend and ally before, in the life he’d forgotten. It might not be crazy to think there could be a harmless drowner, or at least one with some self-control. And there was the little girl who hadn’t been eaten.

Patching the creature up was as far ahead as he’d thought, a reward for saving the girl or a moment of foolish pity, or perhaps both, but now it was even clearer that she couldn’t survive on her own. Not when she couldn’t stand without assistance.

At first, her eyes had seemed the only human thing about her, but in spite of the fin and the claws and the slimy green skin, the thing lying bandaged on the ground next to him looked almost human even with her eyes turned away from him. The bandages concealed too much and not enough all at once.

The breeze picked up into real, gusting wind, and it carried some of the dead grasses of the field with it.

The drowner would need to keep her bandages clean. She’d need to keep out of the mud. She’d never do it, left on her own. She’d get scared, and she’d hide in the dirt. And she was so thin, her ribs so clear between the bandages.

He looked up at the sky, checking the positions of the moon and stars. Not too far from dawn. Not too close, either, but close enough that he shouldn’t stay here, or keep her here, if he wanted the townsfolk not to throw him out on his ear for fixing up a monster.

“Alright,” he said, half to himself, his voice steady and calming for both of them. “Alright.”

He got to his feet and returned to his satchel, where he pulled out his one spare shirt. Dressing her in it to keep a layer over the bandages before she could muddy them just proved what he already knew. She was weak and needed help to sit up and dress, though part of the help was just working through her confusion about clothing in general.

His shirt hung loosely off her body, covering her torso and thighs and most of the knee injury. The lower leg was a bust anyway, at the moment, and he could worry about it later.

“Might as well try to make the cemetery before dawn,” he said, as much for her benefit as his own. There. He’d made a decision.

He scooped the drowner up into his arms, and she slumped quietly against his chest, resting her head on his shoulder and looking up at him with tired eyes. She was light, and he reminded himself to feed her once they were away from the ford, where people might eventually come. He’d thought, the moment before she was in his arms, that she might try to bite or scratch again, but the dead, lax weight of her body and the soft whine she made as she nestled into his grip both seemed like good enough proof that if she was going to bite, she wasn’t going to do it now, tired and hurting.

As he carried her, she fell asleep, her head lolling and her face and teeth ending too close to his neck for comfort as her cheek came to rest against his collarbone instead of his shoulder.

This was a bad idea. It was a stupid idea. But he’d had stupid ideas before, apparently, and for now, he’d just have to wait and see how it turned out.

[Part 5]

#whump #creature whump #monster whump #monster whumpee #witcher whump #field medicine #bandages #bandaging #wound care #multiple prespectives

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fireintheforest · 5 years

Text

A year

The summer sun was hanging above everyone’s head despite the nearby water of the city cooling off somewhat the temperature, especially in apartments close to the canals. Saufinril, glad to finally be in the city and have a chance to escape the heat, opened the door and was greeted by the mutt he’d adopted, who barked and put his front paws on his chest.

“Hi Arpen, hi.” He scratched his head, flopping the ears left and right as he grinned, “did you miss me? Hm? You missed me?” the dog barked and started to jump, “Alright, calm down, calm down. Where’s Casil? Hm? Get him!” obeying blindly, the dog ran up the stairs. Saufinril closed the door and went behind him. He heard the barks and then a “This fucking dog-!” from within apartment, unconsciously making him smile. Saufinril got in and went directly to the Dunmer that pushed down the large mutt. Saufinril put his arms around Casil from behind and kissed the back of his neck.

“Hey you.” He said, smiling

“Hey you.” Casil replied with a smile as well, turning and circling an arm around Saufinril, pulling him close and kissing him deeply, “I missed you around here.”

“I missed you too.” Saufinril kissed him back, deeply. Casil’s hands wandered down Saufinril’s torso and under his shirt as his kisses trailed to Saufinril’s jaw.

“Seems you missed something else.”

“Seems you did, too. Right here?”

“Hey, if you’re up for it. I have no problem.”

“Mmm I’d prefer elsewhere.”

“Fine by me.” Casil grabbed the Altmer’s hand and pulled him to the bedroom, Saufinril following. That door remained closed the rest of the day and all night, muffling only some of the sounds that came from inside.

Autumn was a favorite season: it was the right amount of chill for it to be charming without abrasive, and he could still walk around without the layers needed for winter. It made anything easily cozy as well. For instance the bed Saufinril woke on, right next to Zerseth. He was sleeping next to him, chest the only thing uncovered by the sheets, rising and falling peacefully while he slept. Saufinril was lying on his side, watching him. Zerseth’s raven hair was sprawled on the pillows, tempting him. He finally took a finger to stroke one of the locks: smooth as always. He curled the lock around his finger, then deepened his hand into the black hair and combed it.

“Morning.” Zerseth said in a sleepy voice, then opened his ruby eyes slightly.

“Morning.” Saufinril smiled, still combing his hair.

“Found something interesting?”

“Yep.” Saufinril kept playing with his lover’s hair as he felt an arm wrap around his waist and pull him.

“I know of something more interesting we can do.” Zerseth kissed Saufinril deeply, then suddenly pushed him to the mattress and straddled him, deepening the kisses.

Winter was too cold to be living it alone, Saufinril thought bitterly. Zerseth was too busy, Casil could come back any minute now and in the last run he’d gotten injured, so he was stuck in the Riften apartment with a side that sometimes ached for no reason. Arpen slept soundly next to him, getting pet absentmindedly by Saufinril.

He hated being alone. He absolutely hated the overwhelming silence, the feeling of the apartment being too big, too empty. Saufinril took the cup of coffee to his lips and took a sip, when Arpen shot his head up and ran to the door, barking. Saufinril’s chest was filled with the hope of company, so he got up (a bit too fast, judging by the sting on the side of his ribcage) and walked out of the room. Arpen sniffed under the door, then walked back happily to the bed, much to Saufinril’s dismay. Probably the tenants from below. Better take the pity party to the dining room, at least. Where it had been yesterday. He picked a random book and opened it to page one, sitting at the table.

Arpen pulled the same stunt 3 more times and like an idiot, Saufinril each time turned to the door with hopes that the door would open. All the times, same result: nobody. The sky had darkened already (an issue resolved with lighting candles) by the time Arpen again ran to the door, barking. Saufinril, too focused on the book and deciding not to fall for the same trick again, didn’t look up from the chapter he was in until his eyes were suddenly covered in darkness. He grabbed the wrist of the person covering his eyes with one hand and with the other he was reaching for the candleholder in front of him.

“Hey you.”

Saufinril grinned, recognizing Casil’s voice.

It took him around 4 days to get back from Windhelm. Had he the option of time, he would’ve taken longer, taking more stops to cry all that he wanted to. But the presence of Porvis and Shurlyn wasn’t to be taken lightly. If they had seen him with Zerseth, they would surely go and tell Casil, so time became a luxury he couldn’t afford. He had to get there before them, and all throughout the journey he cooked up what he’d tell Casil if they came with the accusations. The very real, very true accusations. But he’d already lost Zerseth, he couldn’t lose Casil too.

He opened the door to the apartment, greeted as always by Arpen. Saufinril barely even greeted him this time, the petting on the fluffy head being fast. He went to the bedroom, where he found Casil giving him his back, hands rested on the desk, looking at something.

“Hey you.” Saufinril said, acting as usual. Casil didn’t respond. His gut feeling told him there was something wrong, that Casil probably knew, but he went on, laying his bag on a nearby chair, “How’s it going?”

Casil was still in silence, but he just took a deep breath.

“Honey…?” Saufinril asked softly, pausing. It felt like something was gripping his heart. He felt like something was about to get stuck on his throat.

“What is this?” Casil asked, turning to Saufinril so he only saw him sideways, holding the notebook where he kept the real accounts of the money. The accounts that clearly showed how much money Saufinril was stealing. Saufinril felt a cold rush fall down his face.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Casil repeated, arching his eyebrows. He wasn’t looking at Saufinril, but he could see from the clenching of his jaw and heavy breathing how mad he was.

“No, I’ve never seen it before.”

“Just like you’ve never seen that other mer before?” Casil finally turned to Saufinril, “Because I know about that, Saufinril.”

“No, that’s-”

“Black hair, shaved under his stupid fucking ponytail. Five inches shorter than me, younger too. Are you going to tell me you don’t know? To my face? Are you going to keep lying to me?” Casil took a step forward, crimson eyes set on Saufinril. Saufinril took a step back, dodging his sight, the feeling of something gripping his heart tightening drastically and feeling like his stomach had dropped to the void.

“Casil…listen,” Casil exhaled stepping back in dismay and anger, “It-it was-it’s over. It’s over with him, ok? It was-”

“How long?”

“…Cas?”

“Don’t ‘Cas’ me, how fucking long were you both doing it??”

This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair at all.

“…four years…”

Casil’s eyes widened in disbelief, then shifted to anger. “Four years?” he asked, “Four fucking years, are you fucking kidding me??”

“Cas-”

“You’ve been cheating on me for four years??”

“Listen-”

“No, you asshole! You listen!” Casil snapped, walking towards him. Saufinril started to walk back, deeper into the bedroom, “We’ve been together- you were faithful for only two fucking years?? Four years??? How could you?? How the fuck could you??”

“Casil…”

“Did you love him? Huh? By any chance, did you have any fucking feelings for him?” Saufinril looked away, “You said you and him ‘were over’.”

“Casil, it’s over. It’s over with him, I’m sorry. I-listen I did wrong. I did really wrong, I’m sorry.” Saufinril pleaded, “It was-I was stupid, I did something bad, I-I know you’re hurt, I know you’re mad-”

“You dick!” Casil pulled out his blade and lunged forward. Saufinril dodged just in time, jumping over the bed.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Casil please, forgive me!”

“Four years you fucking dick! For four years you thought I was stupid enough to cheat??”

“I’m sorry, Casil I’m sorry! Look, we can talk this out, we can-we can get out of this one together-”

“You think” Casil almost stabbed Saufinril’s arm, “I want to get out of this one together??”

“Maybe!! I did wrong, I’m sorry!”

“I’ll make you sorry!” Casil finally grabbed Saufinril’s hair and yanked it, making the Altmer yell and fall on his knees. Casil kicked him in the face, then a fight broke out. Despite Saufinril’s attempts, Casil pinned him down to the ground, his hand gripping the serrated hunting knife hard. Arpen, who until then had been barking at the couple, lunged forward and bit Casil’s wrist hard. Casil yelled, not releasing the knife, and tried to push the dog aside while keeping Saufinril down. Saufinril, however, seized the chance to grab Casil’s jaw and push him back with all his strength.

“Fuck-”

Casil’s head slammed against the bed frame, he made a “hrgk!” sound and went limp, eyes rolling back, unconscious. At least, he looked like it. He only had two seconds, tops. Arpen released him. There was no time, he’d come around soon. Saufinril yanked the knife sheath from Casil’s waist, took the hunting knife, sheathed it, then scooped Arpen up and ran out. Casil was stirring, rubbing the back of his head when Saufinril reached the front door, opened it, and ran off.

“SAUFINRIL!!”

He just kept running out the city, the strong sun warming him up as he ran. By the time he reached the caravan stationed outside of Riften, he was sweating.

“Light-Fur!” he yelled, running among the tents. Various Khajiit looked at him as if he were insane. Light-Fur, the elderly Khajiit, looked at him and got slowly upwards. He dropped the dog in front of her, “Please, please.” He rattled, “One is sorry. One is sorry, one has to go, one can’t stay, please Light-Fur, please look after him, please take him in, please.”

One of the nearby Khajiits muttered something angrily, then stepped forward towards Saufinril. Arpen growled, but Saufinril just took him in his arms again, still looking at Light-Fur, who seemed not to understand. “Please, please. One is being followed. One can’t go back. He’s in danger, if-if one takes him along it’ll slow us both and he-he could be-”

“Step away.” The Khajiit hissed, getting between the elderly Khajiit and the Altmer.

“His name is Arpen, please Light-Fur please. Please let him stay with you, please. One is begging you. One can’t take him along, he’ll be-please Light-Fur, please.”

Light-Fur looked at Saufinril, who didn’t seem to notice the blood that was trailing down his nose, still clinging to the dog. She gave a nod, then told the Khajiit that was between them something. Saufinril exhaled, finally turning to his dog.

“Good boy,” he whispered in Altmeris, petting him and pulling him into a hug, “You were a good boy, such a good boy. Be good, ok?” the lump on his throat tightened, “Be good to Light-Fur. Do what she says, ok? I love you so much.” He kissed the dog’s head, leaving some blood smeared on him, “I love you so, so much, Arpen, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I do this because I love you, ok? I love you. I’m sorry. Be good.” He sniffed, kissing the dog again on his head. Arpen stayed still, licking his nose only when he felt his master release him. Saufinril blinked fast and stepped back, letting the younger Khajiit pick the dog up. Saufinril gave him one last pet on the head.

“Thank you.” He said to the elderly Khajiit, before running down the road as fast as he could, turning to the woods. He’d be safe there. The Khajiit were nomadic, so even if Casil decided to waste his time hunting after the dog, he’d have a hard time finding them. Casil was going to go after him, anyways. With the thought that Arpen was going to be safe, Saufinril focused on running away as fast as he could. The hunt had begun in the middle of the spring.

#third era sau #tesblr #tes #eso #khajiit #dunmer #altmer #yea I went there #with the dog #I'm so sorry #I just wanted to write something with the seasons #and then this happened #Illegal Merpassing: Origins #oblivion #it started all light and kinky and suddenly sad scene #why have it light when it can be sad #amiright #I have a therapist session tomorrow and it somehow fits into this lmfao #no real dogs were abandoned during the production of this piece

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softsoonhao · 6 years

Text

lace adorned | minghao

member. minghao x female reader word count. 1,951 genre/warnings. smut, cross dressing (hao wears lingerie), oral (male receiving), light fluff bc ~love~

The sound of a clearing throat brings your attention to the doorway of the on-suite bathroom. Your eyes widen at the sight, a soft sigh leaving your parted lips.

“Oh, Hao...” you say, teeth then digging into your lower lip. He’s an absolute sight before you, clad in a little black lace number that leaves you breathless.

He doesn’t move from the doorway, shifting his weight as his eyes look anywhere but yours. Even despite the obvious approving tone of your voice, you can tell he’s nervous - unsure of what he’s even doing. But, god, does he look gorgeous. You can’t help but ogle him, devouring him with your eyes as they move up and down and back again. The lace adorns his tanned skin - the sheer bralette tight across his chest, intricately designed panties doing nothing to hide his growing erection beneath them, garter belt holding stockings snug around toned thighs. You swallow hard, licking your dry lips.

Minghao likes it. Likes how you stare at him. Even with his nerves and any insecurity, he likes knowing this turns you on. He finally lifts his eyes, settling them on you, and let’s out a breath. You’re sat on the edge of bed, in nothing but one of his t-shirts nearly swallowing your form, with your hair up in a messy bun. He almost wants to laugh at how this situation is typically flipped around.

He supposes it’s because he wanted to surprise you with this - with the lingerie. He had to admit, it was something he couldn’t get out of his head since you’d mentioned it.

(You we’re out shopping a week and a half ago, stopping inside a lingerie boutique for fun. You had a few pieces already that Minghao absolutely loved on you, enough so that you’ve been his muse for several photography sessions in them. But looking for more never hurt, and he certainly wasn’t going to turn down seeing you try any on. You passed a few racks, fingers rolling over them, Minghao’s eyes following, a small grin on his lips. Stopping at a set, you hummed, looking it over before holding up to yourself.

“What do you think?” You asked him, eyes sparkling as you watch him crossed his arms and took a good look.

“I think you look incredible in anything.”

You laughed, cocked your head. Reaching out, you held the set up to him. “You’d look pretty good, too, I think. All dolled up in silk and lace.”

Minghao raised his brows, a wide smile adorning his face. “You think so?” He took the hanger and observed the piece. “I think you’re right. Might even look better than you.”

The teasing of his tone made your roll your eyes, and you continued on. Later that night, after he nearly rips the new lingerie from your body, when you’re cuddled up about to fall asleep, you whispered to him.

“I was serious earlier,” your voice was tired, low. You were sure he had already fallen asleep, but he heard when you said, “I really would love to see you in something like that.”)

Now that he’s here, wearing a set similar to the one you had bought that very day, he sees you were serious. Sees how much you enjoy it. Watches as you shift on the bed, thighs squeezing together. A surge of confidence swells in his chest, and he walks over to you, slowly, making sure you’re watching every step he takes until he’s right in front of you.

Your breath hitches as you’re face to face with his abdomen, and you reach out, eyes staring up into his own. He watches as your fingers graze over the toned muscles of his stomach and the proceed to move lower, caressing the lace over the bulge in the panties. Minghao hums deeply, eyes fluttering as you palm him.

“Can I, baby?” You ask, and when he nods you don’t hesitate to gently push his hips away from you, allowing you enough room to fall to your knees before him.

His hand immediately finds your hair as your lips press chaste kisses along his clothed length, sucking the head through the thin fabric. He pulls the tie from your bun, letting your hair cascade down and giving his hand free purchase between the locks. You moan when he tightens his fist, batting your lashes up at him.

Peeling down the panties just slightly, enough to reveal the tip, red and leaking, you take in between your lips, tongue swiping along he slit.

Minghao groans above you, head lolling back. He looks back down, catches your free hand dipping between your legs. A breathless laugh mixed with a sigh of pleasure slips between his lips, and he hums.

“Baby...” he calls to you, and you look up at him, tongue poking out as you lick up the length, lace scratching against your tongue. “Get on the bed.”

You grin, standing and sitting back on the bed, scooting yourself back onto the pillows, watching as he follows you, climbing over you. He's quick to capture your lips with his, and yet even with the sense of urgency, he takes his time, kisses you slowly, passionately. His hand lifts to your hip, slips beneath his shirt you’re wearing and up your body, finding you braless, nipples hardening under his touch. He tweaks one, then the other, and then releases your lips to take off the offending fabric covering you from him, mouth taking place where his hand once was.

Moaning, head falling back, you arch into his touch. You ache for him to go lower, touch you, kiss you where you need him most. But most of all, you want to see him. All of him. Beautiful lingerie and all.

Lifting your hand, you place it on his shoulder, pushing him onto his back and hooking a leg over his hips. His hands immediately find purchase at your waist, moving to grip your hips as you stare down at him, a hunger in your eyes. He’s so beautiful, you think, fingers tracing over the bralette cover his nipples. You lean down, teeth biting the uncovered skin of his chest, sucking lightly, leaving a smattering of red and purple. You lean back to admire your canvas, glancing up at Minghao.

He’s busy watching you, fingers digging into your skin. His bottom lip, kiss-swollen, between his teeth as he watches you sit back on his clothed cock, rocking slowly against it.

“Wouldn’t it feel better if you took your panties off, babe?” He asks, and you have to agree with him.

You move off of him long enough to slip them off, sticky with your arousal and soaking through the thin material. Minghao groans when you make a show of them before tossing them off the bed, returning to your seat on his lap.

“Let me feel how wet you are, Y/N.”

It’d be rude not to give into him, not when he’s laying there so pretty, all for you. You lower yourself back down on his cock, hard and hot beneath the lace, and you sigh at the small amount of relief it brings you. Beginning to move your hips, you slide yourself against him, the lace scratching just right against your sensitive bundle of nerves, and you let out an unsteady breath.

“That’s it, baby. God, you’re soaked, aren’t you?” His eyes drink you in, dropping form your face down to where you’re grinding yourself against him. His tongue flicks across his lips before he continues. “Do you like seeing me all dressed up? All dolled up, just for you?”

A groan slips past your lips, and you move your hips faster against him. Minghao’s grip tightens on you, thrusting up against you.

“Fuck, you do, huh? Like how my cock feels beneath the pretty lace?”

You moan loudly at his words, whimpering when he shifts, sits up and holds you. His lips are on your neck, your collarbone, marking you his, groaning into your hot flesh. It’s too much and not enough. Minghao slips a hand between the two of you and pushes the panties down enough to expose himself, to feel your heat flush against his own. You groan at the contact and lift yourself enough to press his cock at your entrance, sinking down easily until he’s bottomed out and you’re both left shaking.

“You look so pretty, Hao,” you tell him, arms wrapping round his neck. “So, so pretty in that lingerie, baby.”

You punctuate your words with a lift and drop of your hips, voice hitching as you bounce on his cock, and he pulls you tighter against him, mouth moving back to meet yours. Groaning into your mouth, he does his best to help you, guiding you faster. His hand returns between your bodies, both now slick with a fine layer of sweat, and he quickly finds your clit, pressing his thumb against the nub and moving with your motions. A broken moan slips from your lips, and you move faster in pursuit of your orgasm, and Minghao’s.

“I c-can’t...” you try and get out, and Minghao knows exactly what you want.

Holding you tight, he shifts the two of you around, pinning you to the bed beneath his lace-clad body, and thrusts into you at a steady pace.

You’re both close. He grabs your hands, brings them to his chest, and it takes you a second before you catch on. Fingertips rubbing over the material, you scratch against the lace, over his hardened nipples, and he groans, hips slamming into yours a bit harder.

He makes his own art against your skin, biting and sucking your neck and chest. One of your hands climbs up his neck and slips into his hair, fisting around a chunk of hair and pulling. Minghao moans against your slick skin before leaning back to admire his canvas. Tilting his hips just a bit seems to be the trick, and release seems closer and closer, the coil in both your stomachs aching to come undone.

And it does, with a particularly hard pinch to one of his nipples. Minghao lets out a broken string of moans as he comes, hips stuttering into yours hard enough to push you off the edge, as well. You arch your back, nails scratching down his chest, grabbing tight at the sheets, his name the only thing seemingly left in your mind as it falls endlessly from your lips.

Eventually he slows, panting heavily, his grasp at your hips loosening only to rub up and down softly. His touch is calming as you come down from your high, and you sigh heavily, a soft smile gracing your lips.

When it becomes too much for him, he pulls out of you, slowly, groaning at the sight of his cum leaking out of you. Minghao drops next to you, and the look in his eyes as he stares at you makes you feel vulnerable. It’s so intense, so full of emotion, and your hearts soars. Hands grabbing his cheeks, you press your lips to his once, twice, three times before kissing his nose, then his forehead. He lets out a chuckle, fingers brushing away the hair falling into your face.

After a moment of content silence, he sighs. “Let’s get cleaned up, yeah?”

Nodding, you sit up, stretching a bit before pulling him off the bed. You can feel his release dripping down your thigh, and your need for a shower heightens. You practically drag Minghao into the bathroom, him laughing as you do.

“What hurry are you in?” He questions with a grin, brow raising when you turn around to face him.

“Round two.”

#minghao smut #xu minghao smut #xu minghao #the8 smut #the8 #svt smut #seventeen smut #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #the8 scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #minghao fanfic

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whorror-jpeg · 6 years

Text

Ivy (Chapter Seven, Iho)

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Summary: You are the new, 25-year-old apprentice of Rubeus Hagrid at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and one of the professors can’t seem to stop thinking about you, despite his history with romantics.

Prompts: none

Song: none

Request: none

Warning(s): fluff, domestic fluff, talks of violence and death of family, SMUT, angst lol

Word count: 2k

Author’s note: I :))) HATE :))))))))) ANXIETY :)))))))))))) but seriously, idk why but the ending of this chapter left me in all sorts of anxiousness. I don't want backlash I guess. oh well. >:) anyways, who all actually looks up the chapter names, considering they're all in different languages? I mean, sometimes I feel bad bc I know there are people who don't speak English seeing this and being like "FINALLY SOMETHING IN SOMETHING I CAN READ" and then finding out it's shitty English lmfao that being said, if there's anyone out there that'd like to translate this, send me a message!

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Slowly, he’d noticed how comfortable the two of you got with each other; how any form of physical contact wasn’t the thing to make him blush, but more so the words and looks you gave him and vice versa. There was a certain je ne sais quoi about it, and he didn’t want to find what it was. Everything was perfect to him. What perplexed him was, however, how… different your relationship was, especially when being compared to everyone else’s. Sure, he wasn’t an older teacher, he didn’t feel the need to be married just yet (especially since the whole relationship thing was new to him still), and he certainly wasn’t a student, filled with raging hormones and agonizing over how to give his partner the love he’d read in books. He made sure you were filled with self-love and appreciation first, then the caring qualities of him next.

You hadn’t told him you loved him yet, right? You would’ve been upfront about it, he would’ve heard it from you. He hadn’t said it to you yet, was that something he was supposed to do? Was he supposed to tell you how he felt about you, or show you?

Everything was so mind-boggling to him, and when you came to his room that night with unshed tears, asking if you could stay with him, he didn’t feel obliged to let you stay, because you said he didn’t have to. It was in his care for you that he let you.

And now, he was laying in his bed, your head on his chest, it beginning to become wet as the tears fell. One arm around you, stroking your shoulder softly as if to not break you or crack you, and the other running through your hair, his lips meeting your forehead ever so gently every once in a while to heal whatever it was that was hurting you. He didn’t want you to hurt, and the last time he’d seen you cry was because of him. Was it because of him this time as well? No, you wouldn’t have come to him if it were, you would’ve run to Hagrid. These thoughts ran loose in his head. If it weren’t him, was it Hagrid? Was it your family (one of which he knew very little of)?

“Caleb (Y/L/N) was released from Azkaban today,” you whispered against his chest. He almost didn’t hear it.

“Who?” he asked a little louder than your octave, almost challenging you to speak up, yet, you didn’t.

“He was in for,” you take a breath, “for killing a witch, and the attempted murder of another.”

Severus looked down at you, sitting up, you following suit and leaning against the headboard. He took a hold of your hand gently, running his thumb over your knuckles while you took a breath and wiped your tears, staring at a wall in front of you.

“How did he get out?”

You shrug, “Good behavior, I suppose. He had to do fourteen years, and it’s been nearly thirteen,” He nodded, “I was twelve,” he looked at you incredulously.

“Was he your father?”

“Yes,” you say, choking on a sob. In response, Snape pulls you to his chest again. It explained a lot, why you turned away from people- save for a handful- and turned to animals and magical creatures. They hurt people when they felt threatened, people hurt people as they so pleased.

He was surprised when you had thrown a leg over him, laying completely over him and muttering something about safety and for him to just hold you. He complied, feeling that familiar blush. He hadn’t been on this level of intimacy with anyone, and it proved itself through the beating of his heart. He glanced at his clock, two in the morning. It didn’t matter, the next day was Sunday- or was it today? Nevertheless, he didn’t have to teach, and he could stay in bed with the comfort of you all day.

“(Y/N)?” You hummed sleepily against his chest in response, scratching it lightly. “I love you.” he finishes just above a wind of a murmur. He can feel you smile against him as another sob hits your chest, “I love you too, Severus.”

He woke up to kisses along his cheek and jaw, his neck and collarbones. They were sweet, sensual, full of love. He gave a low grunt in appreciation and wrapped his arms around you tightly, kissing your forehead.

“Good morning sleepy.” he hears you say, feeling the smile against your lips as you press another kiss to the corner of his mouth. How did you not have morning breath?

“Good morning,” he mumbles before you sit up and lean down to kiss his forehead one last time, getting up afterward. He watches your frame while you disappear into the kitchen, setting up for coffee. He slowly follows, examining the uncovered portion of your back from the thin strap shirt you wore, your skirt lightly brushing against the tops of your knees revealing your calves. He doesn’t understand why your skin is making him so distracted, but he comes behind you, pulling your hair to the side and kissing the back of your neck and bending down to leave a kiss between your shoulder blades. He feels goosebumps rise against your skin as he grazes his lips and teeth against your skin. You turn, rubbing your hands up his chest and kissing him as he grips your sides while you nibble at his lip. He opens his mouth a bit, greeting your tongue with his own as he tastes you, groaning a bit. He can feel your hands travel lower, meeting his naval before traveling back up and wrapping around the back of his neck while you press yourself fully against him. His hands grow peckish, grabbing at your hips then the back of your thighs, bringing you up to wrap around his waist. He can feel you, all of you, against him, and it makes his pants restricting and tight, warm, overbearing and underwhelming. His breathing hitches after he feels you grind against him, giving a whisp of a breathy moan into his mouth.

"Distract me."

He complies, leaving your mouth, trailing his kisses down your neck, your face in an expression of congealed enjoyment and satisfaction while your hands grip resistantly through his hair. He lets his own moan cross the foyet of his lips and against your skin.

This was happening, and yet, it felt as if it wasn’t. He would take his time with you, as the universe had done so while creating such a beautiful and passionate and diaphanous person.

He carried you back to bed, where he gently laid you down and led his hands to the hem of your shirt as if asking permission. When you nodded, he lifted it, kissing at your abdomen as the fleeting shirt exposed more and more skin. You helped him take it from your body as it hit your chest, and he could feel your surprise when he kissed and even nipped at the portion of skin between your breasts before gingerly kissing each individually.

“Sev- Severus,” you gasped, gently moving hair from his face as he looked up at you through his lashes. Your face was dusted with a soft pink and eyes glazed over with a cloudy euphoria.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers against your skin after you unbuckle your brassiere. He gently mouthed over your breast, ending at your nipple before doing the same to the other, allowing his hands to find the elastic band of your skirt and pulling it away from your body slowly, following its fiery trail like he had with your shirt, kissing and nipping at your thighs that were hanging from the edge of the bed before running his hand along your pelvic bone and dipping down, grazing your clit ever so gently and feeling the wetness that had pooled in your knickers, making you buck your hips impatiently.

Coming back up, he swiftly tugged at your panties, letting them fall on the floor. He could see the self-consciousness etched in you like a perfectly sculpted art piece that Michelangelo had done himself- equally care infused and emotionally worked into every crevice, dimple, and layer that all added up to you.

You were an art piece with no obtainable price besides the utmost compassion and love that someone was willing to give to you. Something so desired and only he was allowed to have. And he looked at you as such, holding so much love and tenderness and adoration in his eyes for you.

“Please.” he hears you whisper, looking up to him with imploring eyes and a desire to touch and be touched while sitting up and grasping at his sweater- one he’d chosen to sleep in often on cold nights like last.

He obliged, stripping himself of his shirt and pants, before looking at his own underwear- nervous. He couldn’t have even remembered when he was naked in front of someone except when James and Sirius caught him in the showers one day to torment him. And that left him anxiety-ridden, now overriding into the present. You shake your head and sit up, palming at his stomach and leaving kisses on it while your hands explored. He could feel them making way to his buttocks, the backs of his thighs, up the front of them, and to his cock. He whimpered a bit, gripping your shoulders for support as you released him of his underwear, your lips lowering before giving a kitten kiss to the tip of his erect cock. You looked up to him, he meeting your eyes half lidded.

“You’re safe with me, love,” you say softly, nodding at him with a caress of a smile.

His hand pushed you back a bit, putting weight to your stomach to make you lay again as his body leaned over you and pressed a hand to your center while the other caressed your face, support coming from his elbow on the mattress. He found your clit, making you jump a bit as if you’d been shocked. He circled around it before applying pressure and rubbing in such a way that elicited such beautiful, delicious moans from your throat and making your eyes screw closed. In turn, he kissed your shoulder, biting and sucking generously, leaving love marks as he delved into your wet cunt, allowing you to accommodate before adding in two fingers to stretch you out nicely.

“Se-” you gasped and moaned before his fingers left you and he gently eased himself inside of you, making you hold your breath and tear at his skin with your nails, leaving angry red crescents in the wake along his shoulders. He gave a groan- almost a guttural growl, before connecting your lips fiercely, pushing in once he felt you relax around him and set a slow, sensual pace. His free hand, with nothing else to do, found its way back to your clit, his thumb rubbing over it to give you more stimulation because upon Merlin’s beard would he cum too soon if you kept squeezing around him like that.

He removed his lips from yours, opting for your collarbones, sucking on the delicate skin and leaving angry bruises in his wake before standing completely, gripping both of your thighs, and dragging you to him, leaving one to rest on his shoulder as he found a deeper position this way, kissing your ankle. He dragged his hand down your body as you moaned excitedly, bucking against him to find your release, jutting when he returns his thumb to your clit, rubbing it harder than before in an attempt to make you hit the point you’d been longing for.

You do, driving him to his orgasm, and absentmindedly, as if something takes his instinct, he moans- one in which he was sure to have never expected. One in which, he was sure would ruin the relationship between you, forever. “Lily.”

#HP #Harry Potter #severus snape x reader #severus snape #Smut #severus snape smut #severus snape x reader smut #fluff #angst

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lordavanti · 7 years

Text

Imagine Ragnar being to stubborn to accept your help

ONESHOT Request: Heya ^^ If you have time and stuff could you please write a one shot with Ragnar & female!reader where he gets badly injured on a mission? But he loves the Reader and wants to feel able to protect her and so doesn't want to seem weak in front of her. So he hides his injury from Reader, but she finds out and is frustrated he's so stubborn but helps look after him and it's all fluffy? Thank you so much Hun 💕 Words: 1741 Note: Fluffy enough?

You always looked up to those shielmaiden, joining those viking males into battle and raiding. Not that it presented much now, it was a mission that the Earl gave, raiding a small village on the egde of the ocean. It took only a small group of man and you where among them, more in concerne of who would get wounded … or for Ragnar. Your eyes traveled up to his muscled back that walked in front of the small group. He liked to take the reins in missions like this, the earl didn’t approve of it. He saw Ragnar as a real treat, or at least as somebody who would get further in his life. And that was something you looked up to, Rangar, so young and already leaving marks on the world. Like he knew you where watching him he looked over his shoulder, a cocky grinn on his face. You smiled softly, looking down to the ground again, blushing by the fact he really gave about you. You weren’t some fearless shieldmaiden, you were just … you. A girl who cared about the world, a healer who helped Kattegat, a farmer who supported life. And that was something he admired about you. Not your lack in fightingskills but your strenght in helping others. Althrought he never wanted your help personal, he loved to see you work with others. It was like just the beginning, this love, but it warmed you. Brutal, confident and young Ragnar Lothbrok, falling for somebody like you … The village looked so harmless. You saw some farmers working on the fields and you didn’t really understand why the earl gave his men this kind of mission. ‘You stay here at camp.’ Ragnar said to you. He wasn’t looking to you, he was studying his axe with that smug grinn on his face. Besides you there were two others girls, young woman more. ‘Be safe.’ You reacted. He looked up, eyes with that kind of bleu and green you could watch forever in. ‘Safe isn’t the viking way.’ ‘You know what I mean Ragnar.’ You smiled uncertain. You really didn’t liked the whole violence thing, that was what maked you so different from the others. Killing people you only did when their wounds were to bad and even than it was a hard call to make. He grabbed your throat, pushing your back and head against a tree. ‘If the gods want me to die so be it. But my time isn’t there, it feels as if I have to take a lot of adventures first.’ That was his way of saying that he would be safe in his raid on this village. He squeezed your throat, placing his lips on yours in a long fearless kiss. You felt your body react on the pleassure of his lips and his hand around your throat. ‘Ragnar! We go.’ Somebody yelled, pulling the two of you right out the moment. He pulled back, hardly inches and looked down on you with that wild smile again. ‘Be safe.’ You whispered for the last time. ‘Always.’ He winked before running of to his fellow vikings. You breathed slowly out, walking over to the egde of the forest, looking down on the village. It was so peacefull … and that peacefull just became less peacefull when those vikings ran in. On that point you decided not to watch any longer and walked back to the camp you maked, getting a fire started for when they should come back. It was some time around midnight when they came back. You refuses to sleep and stayed by the fire, keeping your hands up so you could ingore the cold biting your body. Their laughter said enough, they won and probably they drank already enough in the village to be knocked out within this and a small hour. You looked for Ragnar, not seeing him gave the cold a change to cover your body in goosebumbs. The relief was just so big when you finally saw him. You jumped up and walked over to him. ‘Are you alright?’ You asked worried, seeing the blood covering his clothes nearby his shoulder. ‘It’s not mine.’ The darkness took away a lot of your sight on him. His smile said enough and you breathed out, relaxing your body now you knew he was alright. ‘Hurt somewhere?’ You asked, looking over his body to be sure. He grabbed the back of your head and pulled you closer, pressing a kiss on your forehead. ‘Rollo needs some help.’ He nodded towards his brother when he let loose of you. You looked back at him, studied his face in the dark, he looked tired … ‘Okay, you sure?’ ‘Yes Y/n, just go you stubborn woman.’ He smacked you on the ass and you ran of to his brother. Rollo didn’t need much care. So when you came back Ragnar was already sleeping. What wasn’t really his thing. Normally he would stay up all night long, singing songs for the gods and drinking ale. But now, he was far away. He didn’t waked up when you layed aside him on the ground. You studied his pale face for a while before you slowly fell asleep yourself. But he kept you awake on moments, always talking to himself, restless in his own body. With the crack of dawn you couldn’t take it anymore and you sat up, looking at his pale face. Now that the sunlight hitted the surrounding you saw a lot more details. The soft layer of sweat on his forehead, his braid slightly blooded and the ground … you looked over his body to the other side of him, the ground soacked with blood. Your eyes traveled to that shoulder again. He said it wasn’t his but it shouldn’t soack in to the ground if it wasn’t his. You carefully stood up. He laid on his side so you walked around him, crouching down on his back side. You took the top of his shirt and tried to look under it to his shoulder. ‘It’s a scratch y/n.’ He murmured. For a second you thought he said that in his sleep. ‘You don’t look good Ragnar, let me take a look?’ You asked him generaly concerned. He pushed himself up, his left arm hardly worked while he sat up against the tree. When his eyes met yours he still looked tired. You brought your hand up, pressing it against his forehead. ‘You are burning up, Ragnar what are you not telling me?’ You asked in disbelief. Was his proud bigger than his own life? He carefully took you wrist, causing your hand to stroke over his temple, cheek, jawline. He pressed a kiss on the inside of your hand and pulled you closer, on to his lap. ‘That you are the most gorgeous woman?’ He said innocent. You tilted you head a little, smiling tender. ‘That wasn’t the answer I wanted.’ ‘You get nothing else.’ He teased you. You narrowed your eyes a little, still concerned and he only laughed about it. ‘I like it when you get all serious over me.’ His hand sneaked around your waist, pulling you a little closer, chest against chest. ‘I don’t like it when you don’t answer.’ You murmured in protest before he placed his lips on yours. It wasn’t the kind of hungry kiss you were just to from his. It had a certain tenderness. You layed your hand over his shoulder, causing him to groarn in pain. ‘Ragnar.’ You whispered, your forehead resting against his. ‘Let’s go home.’ He suggested. You sighned, not protesting against his stubborness. ‘Will you let me look at you then?’ ‘Maybe.’ He smiled almost devilish, placing a fast kiss on your lips before he pushed you off, taking his axe like he was ready to fight again. And you … you just saw that he needed some care, he only didn’t let you. The whole way back, luckely it was just a day travelling, Ragnar was bad. And he got worser the closer the company got to Kattegat. Sweat dripped from his forehead, his arm pressed against his body, blood still fresh on his clothes. As soon the both of you arrived on that farm you rushed over to him. ‘Let me look.’ You insisted. Pushing him on a chair before he could even protest, and he even didn’t. Said enough. You untied his shirt and helped him out of it, uncovering his naked chest you loved so much. But the backside was a lot worse. ‘Ragnar, this could kill you.’ You panicked, seeing the large cut in his shoulderblade. It was a deep cup, needed stitches at the least. But it also got infected, causing him to get a fever. ‘I told you,’ ‘Yes, you have many adventures ahead. I would kill you myself right now.’ You reacted, rushing over to the small medical suply you had laying around. You took a bucket from that icecold water outside placed it on the table aside him. ‘This will hurt like hell.’ You warned him. He only nodded, half away in his own fever. You took a fabric, pulled it under in the water before pressing it on the wound. He groaned and you swallowed away your empathie. ‘Did the man causing this suffer?’ You asked, trying to keep him away. ‘Yes, very much.’ ‘Good, I was willing to go back for him.’ You reacted. Not that you were capabel of murdering somebody, it maked him laugh, what sounded more as a wounded animal. Stitching his shoulder was impossible because of the infection so you just bandaged it after putting some healing herbs in the wound. When you were ready you turned to the front of him, laying your hand on his forehead again. ‘And now you need rest.’ You advised him, already helping him up. ‘You’re an amazing woman, you know that?’ ‘I know a lot and if you don’t shut up right now I will maybe need to drag you to that bedroom of yours.’ You insisted him on walking on. ‘I really wanna kiss you y/n.’ ‘Tomorrow, if you feel better you can kiss me as much as you like.’ ‘Really?’ He looked at you, like a little boy that got his viking bracelet from the earl. ‘Really, I’ll stay around.’ You promised him. He didn’t said much further, sleeping as soon as he landed on the bed.

I’m growing soft on Ragnar Imagines I think ...

#vikings imagine #ragnar imagine #ragnar #ragnar lothbrok #vikings

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