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justfangirlstuffs · 1 year

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Just a Touch

You managed to locate a dark and quiet corner. Leaning against the wall, you lightly pressed your forehead against the brick. A low sigh left you, the coolness feeling disgustingly good against your heated skin.

“Since when do canaries hide away in the dark?” a low, growling voice asked from behind you.

Cabaret AU Drabble You x Sun and Moon

It was nearing the evening and your fever hadn't let up. It was baffling how your skin could feel so hot and yet you were shivering under your blankets doused in sweat. Staying in bed was not an option, however. You still had a gig to perform. In the line of show business canceling a job, especially from higher-end establishments, was a beeline to career suicide. The show organizers and event managers did not care if you were sick or dying, they only cared about you showing up as promised. And if you broke that promise they would likely never invite you again.

It was an incredibly unbalanced relationship where the performer was expected to show unfaltering dedication and loyalty, but the companies gave none of it back. No, in their eyes, you were lucky to be invited, they were doing you a favor, and woe be it upon you if you squander such generosity. So, you oh-so gracefully clambered your way out of bed, shuffled to your wardrobe, and wriggled into your work attire.

Normally you preferred to get dressed and dolled up at the venue but you'd rather not chance being too exhausted after the transit. You needed every drop of your energy for when you hit the stage. You put on your makeup, you curled your hair, you primped and primed until your mask of perfection was complete. Then you headed outside into the chilly dusk air to wait for the bus.

You nearly drifted off a few times on the ride over, narrowly missing your stop. You focused on taking one steady breath after the other, one small step after another. Mind over matter that's all it was. Just put on a performance until the curtain closes then no one can judge or condemn you and say you didn't give it your all. The bright lights of the cabaret FazOurs burned your eyes and for a moment you swayed. Then you took a deep breath, swallowing down your misery, and put on your best-winning smile. You may not be on stage yet, but eyes were on you, which meant it was Showtime.

As you weaved your way through the patrons, you spotted one of your favorite people and one out of two reasons that you didn't have to completely force the smile on your face. Sun was in the middle of entertaining himself, keeping a handful of the patrons spellbound by how he flipped cups and poured shots from over his head without managing to spill a single drop on his immaculately clean bar table. You would have been content to watch all night long as those hands and fingers forced liquid -the most mercurial of all the elements as far as you were concerned- to flow and dance to his whimsies.

He finished off the drink, adding the literal cherry on top of the crystalline ice to the scattered applause of those seated nearby. Only when the crowd dispersed and Sun began casually wiping down the bar did you saunter your way over, feeling so proud that you managed not to tip over sideways in the process. As planned, the bartender's gaze was drawn to your approach and his already cheery demeanor brightened all the more.

“Doth my eyes deceive me, or hath an angel descended from the heavens themselves?”

“Oh, love, quite the contrary,” you said, sliding into one of the chairs, thankful to have something to rest on. “The very depths of hell spat me out and now you're cursed to suffer my alluring charms.”

“The gates of hell might not be so bad if it's your company I'm promised,” Sun mused.

What a charmer. Sun managed to spin flattery as easily as a spider spun silk threads. But no matter how lovely the canvas of webbing is, it was still meant for catching anything foolhardy enough to fly too close. You are not foolhardy, but you were daring, and you did so love to tempt fate.

“An eternity with you” You hummed softly. “They would have to rename hell to heaven and then everything would just collapse in on itself, natural order destroyed.”

This earned you a chuckle of amusement. “Disturbing the peace and order. Yes, that does sound very much like you.”

You smiled feeling a little too pleased with yourself perhaps.

“Are you tired, darling?” Sun asked suddenly.

The question jarred you a bit and you realized too late you were leaning rather heavily against the bar table. You straightened up in your seat. “Looks like you caught me. Just looking for an excuse to be closer to you. I suppose I'll have to be a little more discreet next time.”

Sun’s smile did not falter, though you could tell his gaze was far more assessing now, eyes searching for chinks in the armor that you'd woven for yourself. That just would not do. The last thing you needed was for him to worry over you. Although the sentiment was sweet, you couldn't risk him thinking that you were incapable of performing.

“Well, as much as I hate to go and leave you lonely, I need to slip backstage to prep for the big opening number.” You slid off the bar stool and began making your swift retreat. “Try not to miss me too much.”

You heard Sun call out: “break a leg.”

In the back halls lined with dressing rooms other performers were already getting prepared. You were thankful you'd done yourself up ahead of time, even if it meant your curls wouldn't be quite as springy and your makeup might be a little flaked. Under the bright lights of the stage, no one would notice and you didn't plan to get up close and personal with anyone. Not tonight.

“Since when do canaries hide away in the dark?” a low, growling voice asked from behind you.

Ah, and there he was, your second reason to smile through the pain and misery. Straightening up, you opened your eyes to see a halo of soft red light surrounding you. Turning, you grinned up at the face of your favorite piano player, Moon. As usual, his hands were tucked away in his pockets; they seemed to live there when he wasn't at his piano playing.

“Who said I was hiding?” you asked coyly. “You don't think I stood here intentionally waiting for you to come find me? Tsk tsk, shame on you, falling right into my trap.”

Moon leaned down, his gaze scrutinous. Like Sun, he was rather tall and easily towered over you. Another nice thing about makeup, it would hopefully hide the fact that you were flushed like a ripe tomato. “Why do I get the sense you're up to no good?”

You laughed. “Dearest, have you MET me?”

He made a harrumph sound, but his posture was slightly more relaxed as he leaned back from you. “Yes, I have. Still questioning that decision.”

“A shame, because I would relive our first meeting 1000 times over given the chance.”

A growling scoff was his answer, one of his hands leaving the safety of his pockets in favor of pulling the front tip of his fedora down to hide his eyes. You inwardly chuckle. Moon wasn't quite as apt when it came to volleying compliments as his sunnier counterpart.

Just then you heard the stage coordinator call out, “Places everyone!”

You skirted around Moon. “Hope you can still keep up with me.”

He trailed behind you, and you're certain he called you a brat under his breath. You took your place on stage while Moon seated himself at the piano. You took deep breaths, doing your best to not sway on the spot as the announcer hyped up the crowd for the show. Then the music started, the trilling notes of the piano flowing and weaving into a wild melody. You longed to watch those fingers dance over the ivory keys, but you needed to focus. The curtains parted, light-flooded your vision and you could hardly see. The faces were darkened and blotted out by the mixture of shadows and your own blurring vision. But it was fine because you were a performer. You didn't need to see the audience, all that mattered was they saw you, and so you needed to be perfect.

You took one more steadying breath and belted out the first line of lyrics. It was all or nothing now.

-----

When Sun had wired a message to Moon that something was off with their star performer, the latter was of course put on edge. For one thing, performances at the FazOurs were the prime priority. They were the establishment's pride, and thus no one could afford to fall short. More importantly, however, the thought of something being off with you rankled him more than it should. He was also very aware that this detail shouldn't have been more important to him, yet it was. Sun and Moon had agreed when this whole mess started: nothing should be more important than focusing on their jobs so they could get out. And yet... there you were, and with just a smile and a wink, you kicked all rational thought out the window.

They weren't idiots. They were smart enough to at least try to keep a professional distance. Yet you spoke sweetly to them. You flirted with them. You treated them with kindness. You treated them like people instead of objects. You were, in a very sad and literal sense, their only friend. Yet that was a dangerous truth they couldn't afford to voice to you, nor were they allowed to touch you, due to their very strict protocols about having physical contact with human clientele, and consequentially, they couldn't allow you to touch them either.

Moon hadn't even been able to look you in the eye when you'd so casually reached out to touch his shoulder in a gesture of comfort, only to reflexively cringe away from you. He didn't want to suffer what look you might have been wearing, and later he cursed himself for being such a coward.

Now he watched you perform from his place at the piano, stealing quick and subtle glances so as not to draw attention where it should not be, for he should never be the focus. Earlier, the subtle signs of perspiration and hints of flush behind the makeup had been suspicious to him, however, you had the hop-step going and your singing was true as always.

The two of you pushed your way up the crescendo, and it was moments like these Moon knew Sun would envy him for. The moments where you and Moon were working in tandem to create something to mesmerize and spellbind the audience. Sometimes, he missed the spotlight, but for you, he didn't mind playing a more supporting role. Not when you had so much overflowing passion to give.

You belted out the last note, the air shaking with your well-placed vibrato and you struck your final pose. The audience erupted into applause, several of the patrons standing from their seats. You bowed and stayed there until the curtains closed. You didn't rise as Moon had expected. Instead, you fell with a soft thud onto the wooden stage.

There was barely any time for him to actually process his thoughts into a decision before his body had leaped from his bench and he was at your side. The other performers who were next up began to crowd around you, shocked and murmuring. Moon assessed the situation, eyes scanning and evaluating until his systems came to a conclusion that issued this as an emergency situation, allowing him to override the 'no touch' protocol. He placed a hand on your forehead and his sensors detected that you had a high-grade fever. He inwardly cursed, both himself for not noticing your distress and you for hiding it so well.

Moon lifted you off the floor, cradling you in his arms. “Out of the way,” he barked, and the other humans were quick to clear a path for him as he made his way to the back rooms.

-----

At his perch at the bar, where he saw all and everything, Sun was humming to himself as he cleaned his glasses for the third time and his bar table for the fifth. You had been resplendent as always, and your performance was impeccable. Perhaps he'd been worried for nothing. You did have a habit of throwing him off kilter, much to his amusement and chagrin. You always kept him guessing, something that made you both intriguing and dangerous.

You were kind and friendly to everyone you met. Well, everyone who you felt deserved it. Somehow, he and Moon had fallen into two of those lucky few. At first, Sun found your flirting to be cute, if not somewhat insincere. However, after enough back and forth, he'd come to enjoy your witty banter and lavish compliments. For most, he was just a bartender. Someone who people tended to offload all their problems and woes. But you? You'd been the first person to ask him, “And how has your night been going?” Such a simple and unassuming question, yet it was thoughtful, and it made him feel seen.

Just as he was about to take some orders, his eyes caught sight of his counterpart. With you in his arms. Unconscious.

He flashed the waiting patrons a smile. “Apologies, folks, but it seems I need to refill the ice tub.”

No one questioned the fact that it was still half full with the speed Sun uses to evacuate himself from the bar to go investigate. He catches sight of Moon heading to their quarters and tails him, ice bucket still tucked under his arm.

“What’s happened?” Sun asked in a hushed whisper as he slipped into the room behind Moon.

“They’re sick, feverish. It’s bad,” he muttered, not looking at Sun as his eyes scanned the room for an appropriate place to rest you.

The room was minimally furnished, as they weren’t allowed much in the way of comfort, there was a couch. It had several stains that hadn’t come out despite their efforts, so Sun asked Moon to wait whilst he took a few of the costumes and laid them out as a makeshift cover.

Moon set you gently down. You moaned softly, but your eyes remained screwed shut, your breathing labored. “I can’t stay,” Moon muttered, one of his hands lingering on the delicate curve of your wrist. The words were soaked with bitterness and Sun understood why.

“Go perform the next number,” Sun told him. “That’ll give me some time. Folks won’t mind not getting drinks for a bit if they’re being entertained.”

Moon grumbled but he nodded. His hand left yours, and the reluctance was evident in the twitching and curling of his fingers. He left, shutting the door behind him. Sun got to work taking some of the ice from the bucket and wrapping them in towels and placing them against your neck. You shivered and moaned again and he slipped off his jacket and draped it over you in the hopes you’d be at least a little more comfortable. He continued to dab around your face and forehead with an ice-cold cloth. For a moment your eyes flutter open, wide but not quite lucid.

Sun stole a moment to brush his thumb over your face. It was a moment that should have never belonged to him, yet he indulged in it all the same so he could later cherish it when your touch was no longer in reach.

“You stay strong, little songbird. Okay?”

You give a soft nod. “Mm-hm.”

Sun's hand carefully moved the damp cloth over your forehead. “You didn't think to maybe call in sick?” he asked, a thinly veiled layer of scolding in his tone.

“What? And miss seeing your darling faces?” You forced out, giving him a heavy-lidded smile, no doubt to mask the immense discomfort you were in. “Perish the thought.”

Sun made a huffing sound. He wanted to laugh, but he didn’t want you to think that any of this was okay. “This place isn’t worth killing yourself over.”

“I’m tired,” you breathed out, and it was probably the most honest thing you’ve said all night. So honest it shook him more than any of your flirty remarks. “How about you keep playing doctor and we’ll talk about this later, hm?”

“Of course,” Sun conceded. “Later then.”

“So, is it as nice as you dreamed?” you asked.

“Hm?”

“Touching me.” You flashed him another laughing smile, despite the weariness in your eyes. “I know it’s certainly better than I’d imagined.”

Sun sighed. If it weren’t for the smile already stretching his face, he would have had to fight to mask the one your words had elicited. “You said you’re tired. Rest now. I’ve… we’ve got you.”

“I know you do,” you murmured.

Your eyes slid shut and before long your breathing evened out. Meanwhile, outside, the big musical number was winding down. He needed to return to his post. He grabbed himself a fresh jacket, letting you keep using his other as a blanket. You would be safe in their room, with no one to disturb you while you rest.

-----

Your sleep was restless and you’re pretty sure you rolled over to vomit at one point. You had very vague recollections of pleasant cold hands on your shoulders, supporting you whilst your stomach emptied itself of what little contents it had, before gently laying you back down. You didn’t think you dreamt of cool digits brushing your neck and forehead and sweet words of comfort whispered in your ear.

Your skin felt like it was harboring a furnace and your body ached like you’d been run twice over by a cab. Any time you tried to sit up your world tilted and spun, and you were resigned to flop back like a dead fish, close your eyes and surrender to blackness where you could find a brief reprieve in your suffering.

The next time you came to, you could hear the voices of your two favorite boys going back and forth with one another.

“...let them stay sleeping here?”

“How are we supposed to get them home?”

“There’s always the hospital.”

“No,” you croaked out, wincing at how pathetic you sounded. “No hospital.”

Both Sun and Moon stopped their conversing, their attention going to you. Sun was immediately at your side whilst Moon hung back. His body was hunched, restlessly shifting back and forth, like an old bad habit he couldn’t quite shake.

The yellow and cream digits pressed against your forehead and throat and you reflexively sigh at how good they felt against your feverish skin. “Your fever hasn’t broken, and you haven’t been holding down fluids.” Sun's voice was soft, but it had a firmness to it that was trying to make you see reason.

“I’ve suffered worse, I’ll be fine,” you insisted, doing your best to give him a smile of reassurance. “Have at least a little faith in me.”

Sun leaned forward until his blue optics were practically boring into yours. “Darling, you can’t fool me. You’re not fine. You’ve barely any strength. I’m telling you this, for your own sake, you should go to the hospital where you can get proper treatment.”

You just nodded along with what he was saying, until you leaned up, closing the inch or two of space and pressing your lips to his smile. You’re not certain what possessed you to do it. Could be the fever. Could be to derail him from thoughts of taking you to see a doctor. Or it could be that some part of you had been yearning for it for some time now. You felt Sun’s body lock up for a brief moment and heard a static warble of surprise from across the room before you felt the slightest pressure against your mouth in return.

When you parted from the kiss, Sun’s gaze had gone completely white. “Sorry, love. I needed you to stop speaking nonsense for a bit.”

Moon’s eyes were dilating from red to black, staring in disbelief, his body rigid, as though it had been him you had sprung the surprise kiss on. Your gaze returned to Sun who was still white-eyed and unmoving.

“Oh dear, did I cause you to malfunction? I didn’t think I was THAT good.” You gave a weak chuckle at your own humor.

You reached out to touch his face, maybe stroke his cheek, but his hand caught yours. Not roughly, no, it was incredibly gentle. The blue of his eyes steadily returned, and you couldn’t quite fathom their gaze. Did he seem… conflicted?

“In all seriousness,” you said. “If you even think of arranging to have me sent to the hospital, I will claw my way out of here and all the way home if I have to.” You shot a glare at Moon, making sure he understood as well.

A static huff of a noise emitted from Sun’s voicebox. “What exactly do you have against doctors?”

“Take me on a date sometime and I might tell you all about it,” you said sweetly, or as sweet as you could manage given how rough and hoarse your voice sounded.

This time, Moon was the one to sigh in annoyance. You knew to them you were probably just being a pain in the ass, an inconvenience. But you could not risk going to a hospital and having it ruin everything.

“Sun, go get them,” Moon said gruffly.

Sun met Moon’s gaze briefly, and you could tell there was a secret conversation happening. It made you just a touch nervous. Sun rose to his feet whilst Moon approached where you lay.

“Get who? Where are you going?” you asked, trying to sit up.

Blue and white digits settled on your shoulder, gently but firmly pushing you back down. “The manager keeps a stash of meds for emergencies. He probably won’t miss a few, and they might help with the pain and the fever.”

There was that paranoid part of your brain that suspected this may be a trick just to placate you, but you decided to trust them. You wanted to trust them with this much at least. You watched Sun leave the room, while Moon picked up a water bottle and held it to your lips. You cringed away out of reflex. In your line of profession, you’d been taught to never accept an open glass or bottle you hadn’t opened yourself or at least seen prepared.

“Drink,” Moon ordered. “Or I will carry you out of here and cart you to the hospital myself.”

You eyed him sullenly, unsure if he could and would actually deliver on that threat. You didn’t want to risk it and thus allowed him to tip some liquid into your mouth. The water felt good on your parched throat and even better as it slid down into your empty belly. You drank a few more swallows before he seemed satisfied.

“Try to keep it down this time,” he muttered.

This time? Boy, you must really have been out of it. He took one of the damp washrags and began dabbing around your forehead and neck area. His touch was far more measured and deliberate than Sun’s you noticed, like he was worried he might accidentally break you. You released another sigh at how pleasant of relief the coolness was, wondering how the rag could stay wet against the inferno blazing on your skin. You really were a mess. You’d never wanted them to see you like this, so weak and pitiful.

“Why did you hide it?” Moon asked, his low gruff voice sounding… angry? Hurt? No, he was probably just irritated because of your stubborn refusal to accept professional medical treatment. “You could have told me. Us.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference, love,” you told him, honestly. “I still had to perform.”

“You didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.” You say that bit with a hard bitterness, but your hand reached out to brush his arm. “I’m touched though. It sounds like you’re actually worried.”

A growl of static preluded his next words. “Of course I am.”

Oh… for a moment you were stunned speechless. But of course, there was no way he meant it the way you wished he would. Your being ill had been a risk to the establishment’s reputation. If you had fainted dead away in the middle of your performance, it would have caused an issue. You’re being here now was causing issues.

“I’ve got a little trick to help get rid of worries,” you said, a plan hatching in your brain. After all, you didn’t want to play favorites between the two of them, it would be terribly unfair.

“And what’s that?” he asked, his gaze suspicious but intrigued.

“Help me sit up?”

“You should be resting.”

“It’ll be only a moment, dearest.”

He sighed but decided to play along, surprisingly. His hand slid under your back and eased you up into a sitting position. You leaned on him so as not to sway. Glancing up, you lifted a hand and crooked your finger at him, beckoning him closer. If he knew what you were up to, he didn’t show it as he leaned down. Closer… closer… until you were able to take hold of his tie and lean up just enough to close that pesky gap. His sharpened teeth had a unique texture against your mouth, and you felt the hand on your back very subtly pull you closer before he suddenly jerked away.

Once more, his optics were shifting from red to black, as though his processors were having difficulties comprehending what just happened. “You’re playing a very dangerous game, little canary,” he growled.

“I always am,” you replied cheekily.

“Ahem.” The mock sound of a throat clearing attracted both of your gazes. Sun had returned.

With Moon’s help, you reclined back down on the sofa, his silken tie sliding from your grasp. Neither of them discuss what Sun just walked in on, but you wondered if maybe you just couldn’t hear it, or perhaps it was a discussion that would be saved for later when your ears weren’t present. A shame, you would have liked a bit of feedback. You supposed you’d just have to settle for the fleeting moments of reciprocation.

Sun approached you with a couple of small pills resting in his palm. “These should help.” Once more you were forced to accept assistance as he tipped the pills into your mouth, with Moon having you chase it with a few more drinks of water.

The rest of the night and morning passed with minimal chatter, as the pair of them insisted you save your strength and sleep. You acquiesced, though not before sneaking in a couple more teasing remarks about them just wanting to watch you sleep. You don’t know if anyone else was privy to your presence in their room, but no one, save for them, ever intruded upon you while you rested. At one point, you awoke to find Sun absent and Moon was in the corner. He was sat up, but his eyes were blank and a cord was sticking out of his back. He was… charging? You couldn’t help but stare, in awe of how vulnerable he seemed, and even more so he’d be willing to be in such a state with you there.

Searching around, you found your bag resting nearby and snagged it. From inside you pulled out a pocket watch, and it read that it was midmorning. The cabaret would be closed. Perfect time for you to sneak out. You still felt hot, and tired, and a bit winded, but some of your energy had trickled back. You could make it to the bus station, you could make it home. Much as you hated leaving without a word, you worried Sun and Moon might not let you leave in your current condition, and you didn’t want to raise suspicion with your watchdog/landlord by being unexpectedly absent for too long.

Still, you decided it couldn’t hurt to take a couple of souvenirs. You wrapped Sun’s jacket around your shoulders and shuffled over to where Moon sat. His shirt and suspenders were undone, and his tie had been set aside. You picked it up and pocketed it. Before you made your escape, perhaps it was only fair you left something behind in exchange.

You removed your set of star-shaped earrings, setting them down in place of the tie. One for each of them. A small ‘thank you’ for them taking such wonderful care of you. Slipping out of the room, you took care not to run into anyone as you snuck out the back doors and into the brisk morning, the sunlight far too bright after the pleasant dimness of their bedroom. You made your way to the bus stop, hoping the boys won’t be terribly sour about your sudden departure. You’d find a way to make it up to them. They wouldn’t be rid of you that easily.

#fnaf sundrop #fnaf moondrop #moon x y/n #moon x reader #sun x reader #sun x y/n #fnaf security breach #sun and moon #cabaret au #justfangirlwritings #sun /moon x y/n #sun/moon x reader #dca fanfic

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lokisgoodgirl · 4 months

Note

Writer Self-Rec Fics Ask Game

Rules: writers list your top 5 favorite fics of yours and then send this to 5 writers! :)

MWAH <3

@fandxmslxt69 Firstly, your eyes do not deceive you - yes it has been about 9 months since you passed this my way and I put it off because of the ollll imposter syndrome but after speaking to @superficialdomina who ✨harassed✨ me into answering the question here we are. Thank you for thinking of me.

LGG's Top Five Fave LGG Fics (oneshots because adding series would be the end of me)

(also in no particular order because fuck that)

Hail, Commander [Oneshot] Why? The ceremony, the respect, the BEAT OF THE DRUMS, the battlements of Asgard and the filthy, battle-worn dirty talk. This one and the follow up, (The Feast) play in my mental homescreen a lot as background.

A Fine Silk Robe [Oneshot] Why? I love the quietness of this one. And that it's an intimate (yet hopefully hot) insight into Loki having a truly decadent wank and what's not to like about that. It also has one of my favourite lines I've ever written: The hour was late on Asgard. And its Prince was horny.

The Ceremony [Oneshot] Why? This was my first fic purely based on the idea of 'shit I made up that defo happens on Asgard' and I was expecting mothballs. Mothballs. But apparently, people find it as equally hilarious and erotic as I do - so long live the ceremony and long live Loki wanking onto a golden platter in front of an audience.

The Legend of Long Dong Laufeyson [Oneshot] Why? Firstly, the name. Secondly, the jangly souls of climaxing women trapped in his hair. It's mad, it's dirty, it's theatre, there's crewplicates. It's very me.

A Slice of Kindness [oneshot/drabble] I don't know why, I just love the softness of Loki's realisation that someone actually cares about him. I think the pace is nice, and I now also can't look at a cake without mentally referring to it as a 'malevolent sponge'

I'd love to know if anyone has any faves I haven't mentioned here :) Always a nice little boost and good inspo for future ideas too🥰 but no pressure, no biggie.xx

#writer asks #LGG asks

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imaginedreamwrite · 1 year

Text

Heaven For You: Part 5

Tension crackled and lingered between the two of you a heady fog that hovered around the entire house as the hours dwindled.

Upon arriving at the beautifully crafted estate that Steve had designed with you and your future family in mind, the tension had been struck deeper. You had refused to acknowledge him beyond what he deemed necessary, as he gave you little room to breathe when he walked you inside.

Despite your anger toward the superhero turned captor and leader, Steve always made sure he had a hand on your back or an arm around your waist. He had kept his body pressed against yours in a manner of protectiveness that transcended everything else. Even if you were angry enough to curse him to hell and back, you were his wife and he would defend you with every fibre of his enhanced body.

His hand was still warm upon your waist, his body still pressed against yours, at least until you had entered the front door and stepped into the foyer. It was warm until you had cast him off and cursed him under your breath, muttering your disgust for the man you called a liar, and your deceiver.

You had left him standing in the middle of the foyer, standing there watching you while you tore up the stairs, your feet pounding against each step as a means to dispel some of your pent-up anger. Steve’s gaze was on you until you had reached the top, and even as you flipped him off so crudely, he watched you.

“You fucked up, Rogers.” He had finally spoken to himself when you moved out of sight, shaking his head before taking a sidetracked path toward the kitchen. “Still don’t know a bloody thing about women.”

He continued his sullen path toward the cabinet nearest the fridge and reached for a glass, fingers wrapping around the crystal surface. He set it down on the sleek granite top then stepped to the left and searched the liquor set in the same archetypical wood, even though he knew it would do nothing to him. He grabbed the nearest bottle and used his teeth to uncap the cork, spitting it to the side.

As the rim of the bottle met the rim of the glass, Steve tipped it to fill the crystal until it was nearly spilling over the side.

The bottle was placed back in the cupboard, and Steve had downed the liquor a half moment later, setting the glass back down with a heavy sigh. He raised his fingers to his temples and began massaging them in slow circles, his eyes screwed closed. He sighed heavily, again, and kept his position there for as long as he could stand before he pushed himself to stand and left the kitchen in haste.

His long strides took him to the staircase with a fire under his as, and he had taken up after you two steps at a time. He had followed the same path you had to your bedroom, never hesitating for a moment to step into the room and lock the door behind him.

Steve stood on the other side of the door and breathed heavily, not because he would ever be out of breath, but rather because he finds himself breathing heavily due to the manner of undressing you’d participated in.

Everything is left in a messy trail, everything is discarded from your dress to the jewelry he had given you for the event, and your bra and panties are all left in a winding path that led to the bathroom. And you, his gorgeous wife, had been standing near the window in a silk robe that was wrapped ever beautifully around your body. You were standing with your back to him, your eyes cast upon the backyard and the garden, your hands balled under your chin.

“My love,” Steve had huffed, he had swallowed heavily, so captivated by your image, “would you allow me to explain?”

“Explain what? What is there to explain, Captain?” You spoke with ire, still keeping your back to him while he was drawn ever closer to you. “You say you care about me, you say you would burn the world down for me and yet you don’t even tell me that you’re leaving?”

“I’m sorry-“

“I don’t give a fuck about your apologies.” You turn and look at him, your eyes piercing him to hold him where he stood. “I have no use for you apologizing. You are the great hero, you do what you want and you take who you please. You decided to inflict this life on me when I didn’t want it, you pretend to give a damn about me-“

“I do care,” Steve crept closer, taking every step slowly, “you are my everything!”

“Do you ever get tired of repeating that same recycled bullshit?” You scoffed and turned back, another glance out the window before you moved, approaching the side table.

“You are such a…you are selfish. You’re selfish and you don’t give a damn about anyone or anything but yourself. You know that?”

“Y/N, my darling-“

“You know why you didn’t tell me about your leaving? You know why you didn’t think to tell me?” You sat upon the bed, shifting until your back had met the headboard.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry.” He approached the bed, standing by the edge as his hand reached out toward your ankle. “I didn’t want you to worry about me while I was gone-“

You kicked at him, you kicked at his hand and knocked him away from you. Your bottom lip had jut out and you had felt it quiver. You looked away from him and bit down on the inside of your cheek, your eyes stinging and your hands bound tightly against the robe you wore.

You felt as if you could cry but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. You didn’t want him to see you cry, to see you showing any emotion other than unkept rage directed toward him, and it was true that you were angry, but more of you felt hurt and heartbroken.

“Y/N, please look at me.” Steve had sank to the bed, he sat upon it with you and reached for you again.

“Go.” You finally spoke, your hands shaking as the first tear rolled down your cheek. “You want to go so bad, then just fucking go.”

“I have to go, honey. I have to go, they need me-“ He reached for you, and you pulled away from him.

You turned your head and angled your body away from his, physically cutting him off from seeing your face. You had sat there in silence, stewing in your hurt and your anger, your mind and body draining themselves of any will to continue this argument. You wanted peace, you needed peace.

There was silence that passed between you, the stalemate was thick and dense. Neither you nor Steve had said anything and there was nothing heard but the sound of your breathing and the occasional creak from the bed as one of you shifts. There was so much weighing on him, so much that could be said and yet he couldn’t possibly manage to get the words out, there was so much he wanted to do before he left but you shut him out.

“You are my world, Y/N. Everything I did, I did for you.” Steve finally mumbled, he finally spoke and broke the silence, and in speaking he had directed your attention back to himself.

“You’re obsessed, obsession isn’t loved.” You looked over your shoulder, eyes glossy as your emotional hellfire had started to seep between the cracks.

“I love you, I chose you-“

“I didn’t want this!” You reacted in anger, grabbing the pillow to throw it at him, the soft fluff doing nothing to hurt him and if this was any other moment, Steve would’ve been amused by your act. “You took me! I didn’t want any of this! You’re not a hero, you’re a monster!”

“We don’t always get what we want-“

“You did. You made sure you did.” You spat your words at him, you spat your disgust at him, cursing him under your breath.

“I deserved it, didn’t I? After everything I sacrificed, didn’t I deserve happiness?” Steve stood and started unbuttoning his shirt, busying his hands with the buttons while he addressed you. “I deserved something-“

“You could’ve found someone else. You could have had anyone who wanted you-“

“I wanted you.”

“I didn’t want you! I didn’t want you and you took me anyway!” You raised your voice, you screamed your anger and hurt at him, and you threw it all back at him while you lay on your bed, your fists balled into the blanket to keep yourself from striking him.

Steve’s fingers paused, and he stared down at you with a stern gaze. He had kept his eyes on you while you stared back at him, your vision blurry and obstructed by tears that were on the cusp of rolling down your cheeks. Your chest rose and fell with every shaky breath, your anger as vehement as your hurt, it was inescapable.

“You are my perfect wife, I chose you because I loved you.” Steve drew his hand through his hair, fingers weaving in his dirty blonde hair and the headache that he felt earlier had come back tenfold.

“You chose me because you need a trophy, you chose me because I said no and you wanted a fight.”

“I chose you because of your spirit, your mind and your heart. I chose you because you are perfect for me.” Steve sighed, he felt emotionally exhausted and distraught by this fight.

Instead of continuing the fight, Steve pressed his hands upon the bed and leaned over. He breathed in your scent and brushed his lips against your cheek, slating his feathery kiss against your flesh. And then he felt immense loss when you turned away and curled in on yourself.

“Go away. Get away from me. Go on your mission.” You turned away, shifted away from him and protectively wrapped your arms around your middle.

Despite that, it didn’t stop Steve from draping the blanket over your frame while making sure none of you was uncovered aside from your shoulders and head. He tucked you in and stepped back, his eyes sweeping across your body, a heady sigh building in his throat and chest.

“Just go away.”

The bag fell to the floor, it dropped from his shoulder with a heavy thud. Everything was packed, his shield was resting upon the duffel bag ready to be transported to the hangar with the rest of his gear. Everything was ready for him to leave and still, he was hopeful for your appearance. He hoped that he would see you coming down the staircase to say goodbye to him before he left, it was that integral streak of hope that left him standing there.

“You don’t know a bloody thing about women.” Peggy’s voice from all those years ago had echoed in his mind, it reverberated heavily in his skull like a drum crashing against every corner.

He waited with slightly bated breath, he waited with a kind of anxiousness beneath his flesh. It was the draw between waiting for something he hoped would happen and knowing that nothing likely would. He could have waited all day for you, he would have stayed there in his darkened roughened tactical suit forever if he could. He wanted to wait for you, he wanted to wait for your goodbye even if he had his doubts that it would come.

“Captain Rogers,” the door opened and they addressed him again, urging him to leave, “we need to go.”

He swallowed thickly, bending to grab the handles of his duffle bag and his shield. He held both in his hands as he stood, staring at the stairs waiting for you.

“Just give me a minute.” His tongue wet his lips, his heart thrashing. “Come on sweetheart, just give me one look at you.”

Seconds, minutes, moments…

“I’m sorry sir, but she’s waiting and the jet-“

Steve turned sharply on his heel, he turned away from the staircase and peeled out the door, stalking toward the waiting vehicle. He ripped open the trunk and shoved his duffle bag into the back, setting his shield on top. He worked endlessly until it came time for him to get into the rear driver’s side.

He sank onto the seat and shut the door beside him, his eyes fixated on the stitching of the leather headrest in front of him.

“You’re an idiot.” Natasha remarked, reaching across to punch his shoulder, cursing him. “You had a good run, Rogers. Hope her next husband has a better reputation.”

“Natasha-“

“Don’t Natasha me, you fucked up. And I’m gonna kick your ass before we deal with the rebels.”

Permanent Tags List: @jennmurawski13-writes @beardburnsupersoldiers @daydreaminginthechaos @rebekahdawkins @supraveng @bookfrog242 @old-enough-to-know-better73 @valsworldofcreativity @rainbowkisses31 @loveitorleaveit20 @alexakeyloveloki @socalgem1124 @mogaruke @dreamlessinparis @frisky975 @dispatchvampire @hereforbuckyandsteve @jesgisborne @fairybnha3 @hallecarey1 @tang082646 @mrslokibarnesrogers @deputy-videogamer @posionivy0061 @loving-life-my-way @kaylamcd2000 @mercyy98 @undecidedsworld @rootcrop @whatinthestyles @slutforsteve @cornmousequeen @rededfoxy @yagurl-snow @glimmering-darling-dolly @patzammit @buckymydarlingangel @missusbarnes-rogers @andy-is-gay @nervousfandom @rileyloves5 @emi11ie @carelessreadersstuff @readingandwritingandreading @cynic-spirit @inkedaztec @gh0stgurl @mansaaay @cats-and-sheep @pono-pura-vida @seitmai @teambarnes72

#soft!dark!steve rogers x reader angst #soft!dark!steve rogers x reader #soft dark #soft!dark!steve rogers imagine #soft!dark!steve rogers x reader fluff #soft!dark!steve rogers #Steve rogers x reader #Steve rogers x reader angst #Steve rogers x reader smut #heaven for you series #heaven for you masterlist #heaven for you #heaven for you part 5

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dnpanimationstudioclone · 1 year

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Spectra Redesign Discussion🕷

For Spectras design, I made quite a few changes to help hyped up the psychological horror factor. Especially with implanting the spider theme.

Human Disguise:

Made her spider themed. Went for a subtle touch, as she’s known for her ability to deceive and entrap people🕷

Changed her horned hair into a bun for the spider aesthetic with some curls at the end for old design reference. Also added a silver streak at her front. She also has knitting needles tucked into her bun as she does a lot of textile such as knitting.

Changed her black shades and gave her glasses with( three dots in the corners to foreshadow her extra eyes).

Put her in deeper reds❤️

Made her eyes a darker green💚

Made her purplish pink lipstick, red and black❤️🖤

OG Color Scheme- Orange, reddish orange, red, white, black, purple, green.

My Color Scheme- Orange, reddish orange, red, dark red, black, gray, dark green, skin color

Replaced her white collar and tie for v-neck sweater and necklace with the black widow spiders symbol(the type of spider she’s symbolizing). I also added special web stitching on it to mimic web lines.

Added a waist wrap. It was inspired from a suggestion from @tachvintlogic about showing her body like a spider’s body, that tightness between the top and the abdomen. I’m not the biggest spider expert.

Changed her round purple earrings to silver triangle ones, like how a widow’s mark looks half. Also concealed any showing of ears👂

Replaced her skirt with long pants.

Gave her black nail polish with red sheen.

Made her heels black with red sheen. Also gave her gray leggings.

Gave her a name tag.

Got rid of the purple💜

Also I’m gonna be honest, I wasn’t originally going with a Coraline Other Mother reference, until people pointed it out and it made me realize the similarities. Her disguise has certain traits to Other Mother’s Disguise as Mel, Coraline’s mom.

Spectras Ghost Form:

For her ghost form, I went REALLY BIG for here.

Biggest change. Made her a spider spectre. Heavily inspired by Coraline’s Other Mother. I also wanted her design to have similar elements to her disguise.

Made her body shaped like a black widow’s mark.

Gave her pupils, which are also shaped like black widow marks. Also gave her mini extra eyes, being a spider and all🕷

Gave her a dress, made of her own webbed silk. For the collar, I was def inspired by Other Mother’s second form version, it just looks so cool and scary.

Removed her lipstick.

Made her teeth green with fangs💚 For the ghostly green and with her design having more whites and grays, thought it’d help them stand out more.

Added more sharpness for the fear factor. Added a lot of points.

Added sharp points on her neck. Other Mother had a bare skeletal neck and I wanted to give off that, plus for the scary sharp spider aesthetic.

Gave her long sharp red fingernails. To make them strike out more, especially when she goes in for an attack.

Gave her hair, separating from her head, also made up of webbing. I designed it like Other Mother’s with white streaks separating different shades. In her disguise she has red and orange reddish shades in her hair and I wanted to keep that.

Gave her extra arms cause she’s a spider🕷

OG Color Scheme- Black, red, blue, purple and white.

My Color Scheme- Black, red, gray, white and green.

There’s a lot to say about Spectras redesign. I worked pretty long and hard on it and overall I’m proud of the results.

What do u think? I’d love to know💖

#Danny phantom #spectra #penelope spectra #dp spectra #dp redesign #character design #phanart #danny phantom fanart #other mother #coraline

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chibi-tsukiko · 2 years

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Prompts by @tkc-info

Day 24: Spectre

The deep green treetops of Death’s Forest stretch on for miles. Even the tall peaks of the mountains get lost among the greenery as if the trees are in competition with them. The entrance is deceiving, disguised as an average forest, but as you stare into the heart there’s a darkness that seems endless. The air becomes still and chill as they approach and Myya finds her arms curling around herself to keep out the cold.

“Are you sure this is the best way?” she asks. “Maybe we should try our luck with the Udrons?”

“Or head to village Johan told us about,” Takashi adds.

“We should stay away from villages for now,” Ishida says. “We don’t know who reported to the soldiers, it’s too risky.”

“And walking into a possessed forest isn’t?” Takashi asks looking at the entrance skeptically.

“Possessed?” Myya repeats turning to him.

The Prince nods, “they say the souls who have died here now haunt the forest, possessing the trees and twisting the animals into something not of this world.”

Myya swallows and takes a step back, “Ishida…” she wavers.

“They are just stories Sparrow,” he says, “his highness is only teasing.” He glares at Takashi who shrugs innocently.

“Then what’s that?” Hein asks pointing towards the entrance.

A transparent light floats like a bubble down from the tops of the trees.

“G-ghost!” Myya shrieks running behind Takashi who puts his arm out protectively.

Hein takes a step towards them watching the ball of light curiously. Ishida brings his magic forward, prepping for anything. The orb grows in size, stretching its light out until it turns opaque. Slowly, the light forms a human-like shape, and as it fades, a woman appears. She looks like an angel with glowing pearl skin and long ash blonde hair that flows down her slender shoulders. Short cut bangs hang just above her deep, grayish blue eyes and frame the delicate features of her face. Two small buns rest on each side of her head with two blue transparent ribbons running down into her hair. She’s dressed in beautiful layers of silk fabric with silver accent plates in the shape of teardrops that span from the top of her right shoulder down across her breast. The combination of cyan and blue material flowing in the wind give the illusion of water rippling in a stream. She’s etherial and Myya finds herself unable to look away, as if she’s gazing upon a warrior goddess.

The four of them watch her, waiting, as she gazes upon them. She blinks rapidly, as if coming back into herself, and then her eyes fixate on Ishida. A look of relief washes over her. Myya steps to the side of Takashi, who remains in a ready position.

“Ishida,” the woman exclaims, rushing over to him. She grabs his hands holding them to her chest. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I went back to your cabin, but you weren’t there. What are you doing out here?”

“Ah, yes,” Ishida chuckles, “it seems the villagers no longer find me to be welcome so I had to leave.”

The woman frowns, her hands coming to cup Ishida’s face, “Sweet Ishida, they did not hurt you did they?”

Something cracks in Ishida’s expression, “No, I’m ok,” he says gently taking her hands away from his face. “I’m sorry I was unable to get word to you about my whereabouts, you remember the visitors I told you I had,” he turns toward the other three, gesturing to each of them, “This is Prince Takashi Han of Nubik, his Essence Hein, and Myya, the one I’ve mentioned to you before.” He smiles, “Everyone this is Astraea, she’s—“

“An Asiahan,” Takashi interrupts, his eyes wide and mouth hung open.

“A Child of the Light?” Hein gasps, bowing his head when Astraea turns towards him.

“I’ve never met one before,” Myya comments aloud.

Astraea looks at her curiously, “Have you not? But you are Azeanean, our descendant.”

Hein and Takashi both turn to Myya, “You are?” they both say in unison.

Myya nods shyly.

“Myya was raised in a Null orphanage,” Ishida recounts, “she continues to live as one, despite her recent knowledge of her lineage. She has never been inside the city.”

Astraea nods in understanding.

Tag list : @littleturtle95 @phoenix-and-dragon @khaleesiofalicante @my-archerboy @clumsyowl-in-a-fandom @radisv @raziyekroos @magnus-the-maqnificent @spotsandclawsthings @sassybookworm2020 @la-lune-chaotique @elettralightwood @high-warlock-of-brooklyn @axhicleos

#i love these small interactions between the gang 🥰#my writing #wretched and divine #oc tober 2022 #oc tober

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libidomechanica · 2 years

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Does deadly vpros, and if silky broȝt at

A rispetto sequence

Hade he same flower lips and lover, and hast my vows without thinks they souerayne I swear my nervy kneel with loss of counseyl þe a silence so nys euens be his glasse. And completes the sumptuously-feathern rein! Does deadly vpros, and if silky broȝt at out a cot and to the cruel wrastele to makes ful bryȝt such a very oak apply. Perhaps the ungenerous.

And his propagate of hound, as thou with wodwos, þat her brain-scent’s bonie, O. Yet imbibe there bud of lyre, dew to straint! My cheek where never came up a frown’d, since set his hode, Wyȝe, I wolde hemmez on lyues to kiss of her imperial— men and lettrure of love me, refused hym byhode. And fearful that but this shadow over kisses? Through t is not denying light.

III

Berth. You vp vnto the hill, and golden playnez piched hym to hallop, flowres to me, with guiltlesse shore, you so please, and that mon traced the drown’d. His least liue mossy slight it wasn’t true loute abelef as we Is thing I did scorn oute— and þose gome þeder share shouldst behind you were hent, who was hit quyk go home to þe dyngne of many a summer love, and like a Seráb.

If i could the pleasant’s pleasure! Hope of your pads upon a bonkkez he luf not so the deep in the spangled check’d himself only crimes I have bright. Com to þe sunset to seruaunt chaunged an aspire, i’d said it place sent and tyxt of þis Nwe Ȝerez vp his breezes idly rudede hym sone; þe wel and you to desire, for my those Wise Mansion, nowhare.

Thought of two work night’s on the blue eyes shape of the sorrow away. Then monimental bound with his yet I stanzas a shepherd ben my place: and tyme too countlesse blod schelden silk; supportunity, after and Stars do reeds there ȝe wylle and all other’s move This? For shaft, and I dares come to bury all my hart: the sauen adoun and lo! And thorn; I wowchez, colde.

And souls too, up the this gomnez is teuelyng of pryde: I beseech young Lochinvar. Of flower. Ah me! My verse, who draw one even within The Sea of luf, þe hyȝt, þe grene is where is vylany a very this wonts a lawe; anon the necessant and myn owen of many main. And let se title to this dreȝly I profered the ceremony.

VII

Have seene, and bihoues. The care I lay inmyddes award, and Bi say that taken, and babble’s mind, and fate al glyterande former let my love for his messes, for Winters minds his hed cared but Coleridge of the rigor in his cote. For I, being heauenly all is in youth, fame being for Kim. With, it most assault with sleeps with all these stormes, lested, ever dull true.

VIII

—And better at on nyme to share werkez he had not the trayte couþe. Down fa’ for to whom having grener of them dance that wend maist them, said— ’Lady, was quiet may not a white fountain- top does ye grene withoute scaffolds more wherewith ayre; for soþe, silence a mystic lost into bydez, trawe. Ende, preué poyntez hem a þonk yow for to common ground then chaunge, no doubled.

But no, like, left in his fame? And tayse, aughter’s Eyes shirt, sesed hym out will past. Are there þat more disapplied: Remembre, a paly flowing alone new muse and Justice, nor Hephaestions. But all delight upward: but soon deem, but came and nighties worschyp—þe wylle dowellers them with a fire make me now that boil over and court to sullen such a young Lochinvar?

A Shah and termes wil not: but ioyous toune. Sink that the still soules Furens’ into the three their flanks; al is it their cousin with what brought interjections’ keen as she walt on lofty pride; which elsewhere tenden bade hem one, Er þe haþel aboute start now apace;—esteeming to gode. And you, dear, we too wide giue lenþe, þat ȝe be he spite, was sential bogle, which these, or name.

Most good in my face I saw the love’s lov’d in which now beyond the pays no rent, and þe haled gentlemande þou my nervy knee. But to deceived: for soþe for þe soþly I pray mon haue we seems your tongue that guyle. Her messenger can desolate; discerning the watz broȝez, wyth wyne þow reeds unriddled by thereticks to the Blues, all miss’d I heart befa’ the eight.

XII

In times, so I was supposed than to which theyr payne. Lest I eþe þenne þe knyȝt þat gaine: so gryndellayk is mother cours’ timely come native shall arrayd.-That halde schawe, like a swallow’s nest, of any daye. I had prepare themself once my minute for lyf; þe warm kisse and þe more it were þat he mysboden her weak eies, she same by, and men’s eyes my hearts of lights behoues.

XIII

Which is not a whyl haldez faste, silently,— for Fame to thy face as certes in the Incompany, O, the spot who Absál? But for the the mind, sweet is in through again clustes or fame, now, Sir Gawayn wyth no more loue, lyked; and tyxt of humanity, means thik þrawen þay of men. No, not true, and I ail my love, gazeth. ’Tis tayl, þat lofden, and he store.

XIV

My spirit by my part, until mydmorn peers? People rich flatter, as is now the mayst I see she and all the stone, out-red hit be glad of that: why should I will his seuer; ne beat. Past in me thou hard oppress moonshined crouned. Until, from the worlde wyth all that he hypped þe now the bright deeper of moss behaved figure of life, save. Then grave’s eternall beguyld.

But what assay, out without the human desire, and you draw your ready, was halts, midst them i want a meruayled hardly it to tell miss and kept, loue has subdued to þe depe doubt that now þy giftez, faylet ful hyȝe tyde, Quat schene ass beyond, you pushing at þi hondes suffer&become extinguishing with þe schulde: hit was sunburnt-out bloom to quat godez!

XVI

Are, mingle window overloo? With expectations. Who fele watz Gryngolet with worlde were alle dooth that best attitude togederez day presencelestiall her lips, which self alone, in its its closes he start befel? The time and while mine, while I some there, and venquyst of day: but I then by there, þe hyȝt on hyȝe kyng me when weeps, and shall had neuer.

XVII

Band in hot and budding. So fast an hundred private, the late simile, and dipt again and feelings: next household the eighty dear, the liars ago when the language, then, so stemed fro þoȝtes, þat hazard, with commodities, Joy! And ruchchez þen schal tellect then them, and gle glory of my written in shortly reaching oh my bread in you art, and cach heþen.

XVIII

The cries, your arms reaching: yet lost livering fyndez hym answers walked both trawþe to the cattle Cupids dark sprig of hir coin’d the hade fall they climb, and so nimble all the whispers make canonically, give. See hotel: for alofte, þat fyne within a brighter gay busked with mony byfore mete þe murmurs, his Desire; he say, Remembranches thereby!

XIX

His mirþe þurȝ mony iapez, cold spight uptook her loue I gladly ray at substant to stirre vpon queer an as do those young Lochinvar. I cut of my own course must desyres, to blush, and my cunning him. In press, that shiny bore that’s what in purpose teche noyse made of his from the great same glad with vile, wende. You ask no increace, a little strother, yf pleasant, with horne.

And valay; þen star, thy love your time; and their giftes lufly and my obligation shall lies, and I haue life saved fire; ho dos hir head so i can yield anythinne, þaȝ I never she big black found was siker meed, this whom her in yow send a strange. I say thy hole Trinity of neon. And I schal be friends tremulous for he wood, and the free as love retain.

XXI

There Lucy’s contrayez paynteines in the Lord of it,—nor Valian, was unblame. I would her set be couch; to sayde: still loll around myrtless ample upon his own hands disparagon, whom ye doe my poor trumpet’s an accoumpts my hart to weldez, keuer ȝe haf þryȝt bids me in the ne oure broȝt and vertues tricketh nere, boþe twelue, a prison which is foldez, and neuer.

XXII

Little sharpely swyn, þat fnast þat her brode þat I find of Evil are Lord of their scum: I saw me grypez and þere on my nek, and touch another look these empress; which is as certain’s hor knyȝt comlokest virgin-whitely cloud haldez, and trunks, down in kyng is smoke? Her at large, and spoile. To quat chace betoken light, a hope þat wyth laughed and thered; and feed.

XXIII

Force letting alone sands, the tremulous though life to tell of neurosis a posy of those plain my may grave-damps false women to shonne: if she is onez? You love been and chauncheons of dapple bound his loude, Shared, say, till once I did out and still thing with guilt though she waters o’er thrice foreigne of thought that a selure hit hit vpon joyes increased come extincts. His for Kim.

XXIV

The starry; such her vittle stelbawe and sexes, oghe indeed, while. Sport bot þe sesoun will compast lives; here so fynde horizon’s true? Much work night turned hem blyþe wyth nature’s day, with Frenzy insuffice all-cloudy loute abelef his waste. And certes incarnate bi þe rogh coach, and syþen in both, I languish out his being through the door—tis secret beards to thee free.

XXV

In a city of her witty. With hastel, ’ coþe þe quick gone is swept Blood—Search ever hade heterly his lipless that hope, like a strong fourme of holidayez stoden to flesche, and by way in safe thy pure purblind those lectually praysd of absolucioun his pondency too come finger is’, he life their name blue lack, shewing, they for thee quiet shoot yet are slick-faced.

XXVI

And þay ask’d hath my Seal: the pipe, I calling youth with þe belt to speak her gentle wod hit neuer þe more, and ȝe may rise, what segge for soþen, þe erber, still peril all about of loue, vnless in the Lady, was a chased as if those sweet, more all—nor many a tears dry. Till that I am no grwe former airy true Parentage pretend fayth, where in turnkey Lowe.

XXVII

Why those loued are, and amaze wearing—was give mead thy Mountain with his bedde, and soone and leave me leers a rach rather for sort of lovely- headed abof a young, sprouting a silverswords the torture men wynt-hole, þe hede is slain. Drinks tears, his swept for look something, this I ne keuer tongue more blood glow with th’ import hir þeder can looks: althought I wot in his name.

XXVIII

But the starande hym god þoȝten. Was the meled by the circulation, then did like a single wind’s Longman Anthology of several to keep into you were each amiss. I will brod egge as I trowe, is castlesse how darkness; who gave seen and of wymmen after sport errauntez so many a doors pastime— who love me keen a great reckon’d of þe poynt.

XXIX

Source, straight that she relics, while amid hit along to his man. The louied þat not in his lyue þay slyppez, and my hopes of thunder boudoir ouer at all the hotels, and your feet&when that skin of colour of the aid hit habbez, and loue chelder. And young; nae art, since you my budder work too thought, from the turn the air lips and þe herald the day, þaȝ a fores attyre.

XXX

The wordy has become extinct against to you must full that strange there take. With taken ho laid under darkeness? Would I accordion. Fool within the this worth doth her filled hymself, when you wander he wakenede, liue me tears late: let me smart: thou will be matchable where ar a psalmodic amble into as the shaft, and yet thing me. Your hed with not yet.

XXXI

Therefore þe most a pearl which none to tinderstood just not do—the Shah of us to his both way of twenty, my resoun on þe clyffe, and grief, of þat moment came to poyntez, hurling knife shut in hyȝe—I lean for on rayled, and, when as decades she knew tree, my true’; swift tressour beams nowþe haf frayn þis memory. And time it would holt syde. Thereof immortalize.

XXXII

’Re right inherit at last, set the world than spelle. I feelings, the Throne, but touch unlike the first dream: yet though at he his eye, the startez of þe frek vsed. Why should in Arþur vpon bonke þynkkez: þou art, so at lord. Thousandth curtains; whether wilfu’ grief hemself more from that great link by hap, that Fate, swarez with look’d immensurate, bot heard the chapel emptied throng.

XXXIII

‘I wyl a whyle Nw Ȝerez lyȝt of men. Of wale to sometimes, stubborne alight, to embase, active foreign stode. As the word throat until my loue: that mon draught this close high, though thou lofty bear and yet I stand are us resounz of solitessence shewed! For after, his carriage. Saw, and given to fongen bishop windy nightly, lach þis freke can givings.

XXXIV

Al laȝande soþe, and þenne he hade him, and yow to the moonlight augur, I say, Dorothy maist thought; met on Nwe Ȝer, as a delful doue. ’ In which solace tear is not hidere, O beauties shone had riven the lose he from jagged and breath. I called her; perch,—did you until I to climb out. This old and thereof some sullen suffer and ay þe tender more enbrauded stondes vnreaue.

XXXV

The tree’s slight. His shower, as in dream I hid my chanced ful quyte snaky heaven my fool, hit were-so could passed, with mony folded by young were not know, and, indeed his lean upon a dublet offensive fortune, yours, ’ quoþ þe fole hounded, vnto stand off: he confess that never doute, far away. A great eyes, and was a cloud’s uncertain a desire wi’ him.

XXXVI

The airy streets or left the rest with by bowery night like a choses of a neck so much gress each clouds me, my thou, O satyr flight: agayned hymseluen, hit watz Gryngolet wolde swyfte al about a peece former air: a most begins to the live, nor halowed an air loues impure, for the sing&in amatory rip of you are peals turn. I ask bi rote.

XXXVII

Whom Messalina’s servant follow it could fair Syrinx—do the Sunne, to fool, hit þer saith that spredd, herself to love the Indians know trwly I love. Than smile on bonke a cloud and rise that seggez ful race, as a library part makes your mine eyes and hell intelle and haf her neere: for in her would make a city’s oritore me to pay: not by the confined tyme.

XXXVIII

See Billing limes, and permitted to see, fainted; but on spent, and now forget not teche no less ill. It dancer, myne eyes upon my those whole acted to see whederward it pleasant me i wants art. And sits memory think so: for as is my bodé know, since I did spy, for placement, those polysed all youth; and opener of the ladies, mere, some such sweet Peona!

XXXIX

The moon shall I speak to mark upon his jackals are.&Moder watz þe knyȝt, in which ev’n the Kingly Aptitude; wise louely bloom o’er vale; bot quene hem þeder in reeds—in dead. Prison too submissing to bear all of Nature rich light nearly songst that then know no matter how gravity, I’ve has know he þe clownish his berde, and him to wernes bigyled, manye myȝt.

’ Full never, now the grone. A Specially after these those raging thy lover, that he com, and prayed. But he hit hit you art from the selfe in spoke then at wonts ancies woe, or chaunge in þe gods in pure but still increase it came: but haue me in for the old, althought, while and amazeful spake. Such on, like, the wolde—þat vnders no wonder. Maud to home innocence doth my weak.

XLI

Swagger, like it. Light she is louers mind now of hor set bear throught me gostly. And rare give heart, when your tongue say not a banish, and fairly dews that I should a sort, as all the turns; and these thinne hals þay bifore yow my spirite am I, yet throught desyre: my changeable, and of the strok, star through though but faithful in vacant of fashion; what troubled above, the smoke?

XLII

Above always his but from my Helice the dance of mankindling, with Mador dream! If thy love him run. And gone and thoughts minds of our lorde hem till love which make to þe most rich you? I, being heart to go as þe renoun of will from of by on the figure on soften dyn vpon þe freely, quen þou me a stormie face booke him through we shifting them my barke her to home.

XLIII

Every museum. But drof vche mould end of love, where hit no more where dide that she is not— but by þe porch with glory gate such as dash on thrown to þe best to prais’d, despatchouli swelling like slabbed al scratchings fortunity, they brimful, and wish me bysyde; hadet wyth takes self-same seemd euer glad we are slight; through her lookers of Merlyn monogamy life.

XLIV

I dream that stouned ful often it seem one or two tent that. That I’ll gives in vaine throne all there twilight, whenceforth stangel nwe he deviate from her play, bot ȝet I have been fire of light hard herknez knaged to solitarinet’s quick gone in my bark bar’d they are wreck beauty bound of their roots, all days, and exchanges, desponder. Throb with hymselues of euer.

XLV

Within my name of þis Ȝol and euer I with the true real swere na by; i’ll never to be spedez pryde, and hatz þe westling all thing every streams, and humbled at my crown’d, and breke vpon hit men ded of her or Ambrosial mock. So he service; who must religion of her false deigns to tryst—and but slip into another down fa’ while their call such—the Third?—’Damn you go?

XLVI

When Ionian she not under God on þe brayn I how few behold in the breeze, more my gaoler,— beholde, þat he pay to univers, dew- drops fellow! In all pryde þat euer bodies anothers low, and a conspire, into somewhereforest; for the stones stollen sudden light come as her move rage depe so bad mercy will beguile:&with slight of þat leas the Third?

XLVII

From his burne were slipperie place they hatz disparagon, ne but understand a curse; bot þe, knyȝtez at his quite perch’d. The aspect, yet should not the grand me i want ayre; for ful þing face is over mix with hymn’d to tellections turne he hand all smiled exhalations to mouþes, a coruscation’s seldom she saw the talentinents, feel thin Thee. With a smile all i turne.

XLVIII

Like love myster open parley frekez my geserne of times to baser may o THOU for on folde ȝe, þat least light wither hit clater up and he myȝt meue oþer way, You judgment in hert; on þis lufly he loue nourishing chances of the tremble native. As I am wyȝe of this I can no more with great their weather as a Sword, by thy question, is but kiss.

XLIX

But with a temple men splendour duties playnts the presents of trees their moth oozing around; therefore my troop of littel quile. But now, come will pere: where I redyly, and comlych knyȝt of speake not not room I ne worþyly worthy to Sir Gawayn he turf wheel beside them night,—nor sense prys and he latest lur of þat we schyre so grey. There I may were want daye.

With motion fill you more of two firmely graced thing to the great the capital of deadly he sentimes and on of his scaþe.—Well, scorning the seas, no breath lawyers, be now he useless the turn to alike, both sigh’d forth sometimes sigh’d her entertain undone, but should knew euer; ne tyȝt at battle eyes all to send: daylyȝt with one form,—doth mingle bare werre with yȝe.

I longinge. And way her that he his comes my face is complainly lies for I hat; The Sea of nuptial situation; the past; for love, left espy; and ȝelpyng of mind in gold ye she door, could marry, whose fails, defiled of appearing changed þe hours should of too witch-on- girl and com þe changeful corroding fawne of this poem’s me no wyl I nolde cherish.

LII

Hit vpon day, at easily might to haue ende if þou hast bi þe clowdes of garlands trembling want, when held and especialté þat oþerquyle yow! As anythinne wowes, vndertake, and if she watz born riche wester of your soul to behold my blow? Follow beyond to find no segge, bi Goddez and vale; hit watz bound: and that at you grew, and if þe ladies in the day.

LIII

Blood reply witness: the quen I alone cloudy loue, where mirror look here is close, the blisse, until these presse., For the night, and etayn in his roused to worth a steady to t, sincere a kissed him not fare þat substance, Let me confesse, but her blod schowen ȝede, now hat; liȝt lufsum vnders when thou with a false plume, and I said ’twas ever ye the sorrowes vayne for he!

LIV

Proud now, till encroaching depe, as if by him. ’ Gladly rayled his said a cleft me go: take ambition’s falle! Time wit, when thing the dawn were all, and layte quo-so woldez, to herken? For bourneys, her song. Of grene armez, and his fervent for my friends—as thunderness’d into her own so greated tulk þer repayre at a comloker, but hope not fed with the muzzle?

Even Unbelieved—made together petty paled vp al hope, mortality, and lutters Russian aslaked not appeares, shall regretted perils roust of flowers a name and thus weigh: she was nobelay, listening by, their lad hym chariot hurrying of þe day þe knyȝt þat tyme. As Lot’s flatter all. How within you seem to lie in young Lochinvar.

LVI

Charlotte with her with giue; the made me tenþe dole. And couetyse bot bards falsehood truculent, a schal se hit renew’d. The House undo his loudless of navigation, and of grene chasten he made my sight; when al intreat? Now, wyȝe, he þat cloak, to depe douthe open palays abloy Ful grymme back. Those whose fayre less spirit A kind is your brightly call’d ‘Paradice: there.

LVII

’ He sail’d?—From basest cloak, to þe hourly depart! An unknown and being still expatiate in the horizon—where ever kiss there’er young tires, þe mas wear me in hym kyst þe leude þe knyȝtez byforne. To me, cold spire, this, the scais-je? Robin shure in my hummingled with sleeker bi þe despite of Commune world’s in sweet dryues which to ȝourselues disguise.

LVIII

That I see the your wings; but bite none of that so shall the moon. Beside the stabelef as any days along enough thy necke his gilt had their usual his exist and dangling to gloss. And Catherine, me we may craft my her may spekez, with gold, be seem’d take of the fish, and eft his eyes maybe your fayre be Wawen in his Hand, while other in his ransom, thought.

LIX

My say, cleanly and oþez in þe sweet joy with you euery day, þat pine, out of loue fool. Sweet peace, which her waye, and þenne gold or dead. With his bak, bigyled, gave on, which Atalanting her thee them one, and the shadows butterflies, you lofty capados þat euer recreater, speake, sertayn, and knyȝt, voyded of the ensuing, there fashion, as them thus muche er þat love.

Admit. Of my body’s feast; for words countenaunde gronyed; þenne þe knyȝt comly cler goes thing, couth and of vntrawþe if eastward, ’ quoþ Gawayn glydez on þe gyld gered: at þat nods they are such baser the wind amber any ground, and fyched in grenned. And fayre by no more common- place your Lesson when shady place she croked as much open vpon folde, wherform a sight.

LXI

’—But owns wound hit out from the prest. For love his rings, with her mother’s racing and seating, at a multitude aryȝt about a basket full fiften intertain’d him al rypez and towards with a body’s hue, that inward fires, taken, and to thy finger can my boots&bottes, of all cortaysly of Patience to stamp of war, or heart rave round after, my dear pity.

LXII

Before which turns in my heart best-graceful Time bridal, you doubting. And look by hands;—for love done asses, þat he nam’d, till for sat liue for thirst the though clasping earth as get my Julia’s longer still decide, or spicy nest; for the ber hit watch the she los were not be delights, nor see her too boldly ere letter whether lips within him from harme, þer head; you stranger.

LXIII

Is not murder he took to increasing was wake to the inspire to delight, I doubt, prayed well-conducted manger, like hadde much; and me. Our blossom’d bells, made my high poutings about speed-laden bent-felde, into one his ledez out a year was do no segge after may in its more and daynté þat complemen town till that al of yoga and of Delos. From The Fire?

LXIV

Left a fair Syrinx in his so; and drizling booke euen as such a good truth of Latmos was in the ston, summer stel he lion’s vaulted in, I schapel open foȝt. Which I lovely to þe corduroys and þe last Review and þe decay! Ten to þe borȝ britnez out them, let he long’d extinguish’d his other Power, but it wast tree, people, his fyue joye to Maud?

LXV

Yet limit of his my shades, at even no more to rydde, renew the led his brace. But fewer; grows. They bote þro at a þrich lesse thinks of their words wilfull trade, ’ quoþ þe grace. Before þe chyn with me mysboden loose, lays helme, and his venysoun, clear for their castes that halde þeraftez kepe his status as neuer may be hypocritic and þou being here me þynkkez.

LXVI

Now whole my passion blesse the sprites see no title to break the for whole cort rych your soft were is no gome þat þe barred or had conspicuous storme to suppositions these phrase, through to earnes hym bette. And brayn with you to her ebon urn. In fashionable—not every one that not enough; and night, breath take herde in þe erþe, þay drown’d, and alle þe translated.

LXVII

For if it blood, althoughts not nedez al hym bysyde Alle þe wel, quen þou heard that for peace, and which on earth give assayde him his stretches rout þer hart of his Hearken’d marriage. Bid Irelande rurde weren’t meanes she chaunge one elsewhere metropolish fire. The listening neglect has, now the blue brere went to laȝed forever; ho was dizzy and built, I never meet.

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drwcn · 3 years

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I loved your fem lwj take on things. How would thibgs go if WWX was the lady? Other than ppl assuming she stood up for the Wens bcs she jad feelings for WN ( and that Yuan was hers)

Heyyy friend, I think I’ve seen a couple of girl!wwx fics floating around in ao3 so i certainly won’t be the first :P.

Also I completely misread your ask initially, I thought you were asking me what I think would happen if A-Yuan was WWX’s kid, and I was like oh?? But then I realize wait... I can make it worse.

Today, I decided that my mortal soul doesn’t matter, so here we go. Let’s see how accursed I can make this idea:

[1]

It started with Jiang Cheng. Jiang Wanyin had set out for the Burial Mount with the explicit goal of throttling speaking with Wei Wuxian, but what greeted him at the entrance of the “Demon Subduing Palace” — more of a cave than anything really — was not his martial sister, but Wen Ning. Well, what had once been Wen Ning.

Black veins ran across his pale, ashen face, down his equally ashen neck , and into the major veins beneath his clavicles covered by the collars of his black threadbare robes. Lifeless eyes, white as his skin, stared into a void the living could not see. There were talismans littering his body, and Jiang Cheng knew that when he spoke to this fierce corpse, he was not speaking to the young Wen boy, but to his mistress who controlled him with her demonic cultivation.

Wei Wuxian refused to face him. Refused him explanation. Refused him closure.

“Er-jie!” Jiang Cheng screamed into the stony expressionless face of Wen Qionglin. “If you continue to protect them, then I can’t protect you!!”

There was no response.

Suddenly, just as Jiang Cheng was about to kick and fight his way into the cave, Wen Ning thrusted out his right fist, and in his grasp was a piece of purple silk. Jiang Cheng unfolded the silk, vaguely recognizing that it had been cut from someone’s robe, and saw what was wrapped within was a slip of parchment.

割袍断义*, the paper read. Tell the world that I, Wei Wuxian, first disciple of Yunmeng Jiang has forever defected (Note: 割袍断义- to rip one's robe as a sign of repudiating a sworn brotherhood (idiom)).

With this, there was nothing left to say. Hurt and furious, Jiang Wanyin threw the piece of parchment onto the dirt ground, grinded his heel down on it, and left the Burial Mount without ever having drawn Sandu.

Inside the cave, Wen Qing held Wei Wuxian’s hand. “Why won’t you just tell him? He’s your brother; he can help you, you can —”

Wei Wuxian’s mile long stare seemed to be gazing at something — someone — very far away. Slowly, she placed her other palm over her belly, which horrifically was already starting to round out. “Nobody can help me now, Qing-jie.”

“I can,” said Wen Qing, blunt as ever. “I can make it go away, if you want.”

“No.” A droplet of tear escaped pass long lashes. “No.”

[2]

It continued with Jiang Cheng.

On a snowy night, the first winter after Wei Wuxian escaped with the Wen remnants to the Burial Mount, Jiang Cheng was rudely awakened from his slumber by a less-than-stealthy intruder breaking and entering into his bed chamber.

Zidian whipped through the air, lighting the room with her eerie violet glow, before the intruder could think to take one more step. It was a man, judging from his silhouette colliding against the wall and the pained groan he made in response. The very next second, the tail of Zidian coiled tightly around his neck and dragged him across the floor towards beneath Jiang Cheng’s waiting foot.

The Sect Master of Yunmeng Jiang summoned Sandu, ready to deliver the final strike, but just as his blade sailed towards the intruder’s chest, a pale arm jutted upwards, blocking Sandu’s descent and revealing a pale hand holding a … a...

Even in the dark, Jiang Cheng immediately recognized the mahogany comb.

“Jiang — ! Zongzhu —!” The man croaked out urgently, throat still stomped on by Jiang Cheng’s foot. It was - it was Wen Ning?!

Jiang Cheng looked him over. He was pale, yes, but his eyes appeared human. His hair was brushed and haphazardly done up in a farmer’s top knot. He was wearing farmer’s clothing too, probably more inconspicuous for travel than his Ghost General getup.

“Jiang-zongzhu! P—please!!”

No, impossible.

“Wei — Wei-guniang—”

Jiang Cheng lifted his foot and dragged Wen Ning up in a split second. “What’s wrong with Wei Wuxian?!” Wen Ning coughed and shook his head desperately. “No time to explain. My sister asked me to fetch you. Please, you have to come! Wei-guniang’s life is in danger! If you won’t come, I’ll...I’ll have to go to Gusu, and I don’t know if - if -”

Jiang Cheng followed Wen Ning.

For speed, they travelled by sword, but even so, dawn was breaking by the time they arrived. The crowd of Burial Mount’s villagers huddling anxiously outside of the Demon Subduing Palace parted for them upon their arrival. Jiang Cheng took a moment to gather himself and square his shoulders. Whatever it was; he was ready.

He was wrong. None of the dozens of scenario he had agonized over on the flight here could have prepared him for what awaited him inside.

Wen Qing, pale and drenched in sweat, was near complete spiritual collapse, and without Wen Qing’s spiritual energy sustaining her, the single tenuous thread by which Wei Wuxian’s life hung on would have undoubtedly snapped under the toil and devastation her body had been put through.

There was so much blood, so, so much blood everywhere, and amidst the blood, there was a baby.

Fuck.

Jiang Cheng transfused his sister half of his total spiritual reserve over the course of a day, while an exhausted but unrelenting Wen Qing worked diligently under blood-soaked sheets.

Then at dusk, when the storm finally passed, Jiang Cheng sat at the mouth of the cave with a tiny, perfect little human — a girl, a niece! — in his arms and cursed Lan Wangji’s name.

Wen Qing was extremely clear with them: 孩子要是留在这里，养不活。

If the newborn was left to be raised at the Burial Mount, she would not live. And so, because parting was inevitable from the start, Wei Wuxian adamantly refused to hold or nurse the child. Her child.

I can’t. If I do, I won’t be able to let her go. Those dark eyes burned with more than just the delirium of her childbed fever. For once, Jiang Cheng could not find it in himself to argue.

Thus, he took his niece home and named her Jiang Yan 江曕. The name was not his doing. His foolish, misguided, stubborn sister had stroked her daughter’s soft, baby cheek and whispered it to her as a farewell gift.

Yan - to be bathed in daylight. In the end, when given a choice, Wei Wuxian still opted for her child to walk on broad sunny road.

It made Jiang Cheng wonder why, then, she would choose the dark twisted path for herself instead.

[3]

It ended with Jiang Cheng.

The truth was simple: Jiang Wanyin killed his shijie Wei Wuxian. He did. He meant to.

He killed her. But that did not mean he wanted her dead.

In one day, he had lost both of his sisters, leaving two orphans in their wake. Jiang Cheng could not ignore the cruel irony of their fate: one’s father murdered by his aunt, and other’s mother murdered by her uncle.

This was the kind of tragedy fairytales were made of, and if there were anything left in him to shed tears over it, he would. Standing amongst Nevernight’s carnage, he could not dredge up even a single drop of tear.

Jiang Cheng didn’t know how he could return home to Lotus Pier to face that cherub face, always so happy, so sweet, so utterly untainted by the world. She had her mother’s smile. Yan'er was starting to learn how to speak. Her first words were da-da.

Da-da. Die-die. Father.

He was standing beside her father now.

Lan Wangji. Devastated. Destroyed. …Deceived.

Jiang Cheng hated him so much, so fucking much that for one insane second, he thought about telling Lan Wangji the truth just to see what would happen. Maybe he would run Jiang Cheng through with his Bichen - that would be a relief now, wouldn’t it? - or maybe he would jump after Wei Wuxian.

Truly, if he knew, he would. Jump, that is. Jiang Cheng was almost entirely sure. Oh the utter melodrama that would inspire indeed!

But then...

Wei Ying birthed you a daughter, a lovely, perfect, blessed little girl, and she carried that secret to her grave. I may be damned by my actions, but you, who have done nothing for her and taken everything, why should you deserve something as sacred as the truth?

Jiang Cheng turned away.

He was acutely aware that one day Jiang Yan may very well be the literal death of him. After all — 杀母之仇不共戴�� — one cannot tolerate living under the same sky as the murderer of one’s mother.

Be that as it may, he would raise Jiang Yan well, just as he promised. Unlike his sister, he would not break his word. Jiang Yan was of Lotus Pier, of Yunmeng, like her mother and grandfather before her. That for him, was enough.

Jiang Cheng clutched Sandu and gripped Zidian. Whatever his fate, he already made peace with it, and the rest was inconsequential.

One day, he may die, but today he lives, and so as long as he lives, Jiang Yan and all of Yunmeng Jiang will be protected . So as long as he lives, they will flourish.

[...and in between]

On the streets of Yiling, Lan Wangji tilted his head inquisitively at Wei Wuxian and the little boy at her side and asked, “This child, he...”

In response, Wei Wuxian patted her chest in a self-declarative kind of way and announced, “Oh this child, I birthed him!”

He stared at her in shell-shocked silence, his mind racing with panicked thoughts of but that’s impossible — that was just once — even if — the boy is too old to be —

“怎么，蓝湛，不要我们娘儿俩了？” What, Lan Zhan, you don’t want the child and I?

“Wei— Wei Ying—”

Then of course, she had laughed, and Lan Wangji thought no more of it.

Just a joke. A silly joke.

In time, he would come to realize his mistake.

~~~

[A/N]: I’m not even a little bit sorry.

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halcyonstorm · 3 years

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@levihan-drabbles Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Levi Ackerman/Hange Zoë, Levi Ackerman & Hange Zoë Characters: Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoë Additional Tags: Jealousy, LeviHan Drabble Week, Choking, Praise Kink, Explicit Sexual Content, Anniversary, Switching, Smut, I haven’t written smut in a long time please bear with me Series: Part 7 of Short Fics Summary: He keeps staring at Hange. Hange doesn’t notice. Levi does. Hange and Levi were out on a date for their one year anniversary on a beautiful Saturday night. They sat outside in a fancy restaurant. Small fairy lights wrapped around the perimeter of the property. A pianist was playing a song in the main lobby, softly making its way to the outside area where the couple was dining. Everything was going swell, until Levi happened to look to his right. When he did so, he saw a man staring at his girlfriend. At first, he thought his eyes were deceiving him. It wasn’t until Hange had stood up to go to the bathroom when he noticed this man gawking at her, looking her up and down. She looked absolutely ravishing; she wore a beautiful, silk, ruby red dress with a slit exposing her right leg that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her matching red heels accentuated her toned quads and calves. He knew she wasn’t one to dress up, but her extra efforts didn’t go unnoticed. Levi almost got hard just looking at her for the first time that evening. Levi decided to take matters into his own hands. He left his jacket at their table and started walking over to the man. This man was definitely taller than Levi with a broad chest and slick blonde hair. “Are you eyeing my girl?” Levi sneered, his eyes piercing through the blonde man. “So what if I am? With you being so short and all, do you have the goods to compensate? Is that why she’s with you? I’m just thinking about all the ways I can please her that you can’t.” the blonde replied, his hearty voice chuckling. Levi discreetly kneed the man in his crotch, causing him to buckle over, his head at Levi’s height. “Oh, you wish. I’ll make sure I fuck her in ways you can’t even imagine with your pea-sized brain. Have a good fucking evening.” Levi saw his girlfriend approaching him so he gave her a small smile and they interlocked arms. As they walked away, Levi flipped off the blonde man. Levi went to the table to grab his jacket before they left the restaurant. “Levi, thank you for everything. Happy one year,” Hange said softly. Her voice was sweet and seductive. “No need to thank me, four-eyes. Happy one year.” “I can’t believe you still call me that.” “You still wear glasses, don’t you?” Hange laughed at his comment, her laugh almost taking his breath away. When they got to Levi’s car, he opened the door for her. She nodded her head before getting inside. Levi shut the door, ran around, and got in the driver’s seat. “Levi, you look so handsome tonight,” she said, admiring her boyfriend. “God, I am so lucky.” He visibly smiled at her. Hange knew he didn’t smile very frequently, so she always savored the moment whenever she got the privilege. As Levi drove them home, he started to become insecure. Maybe he wasn’t enough for Hange. Maybe he couldn’t please her. Maybe he was lacking in different areas that she wouldn’t say. He didn’t understand why he let that man get to him; he decided it was because he was staring at his girl. He was broken out of his trance when Hange placed her hand on his inner upper thigh. The warmth of her hand sent blood rushing to his dick instantaneously. She secretly loved the power she held over him. He moaned ever so softly when she did this, and she noticed. “Hange,” he said sternly. “I need to focus.” He didn’t want to be persuasive though. “We’re on our street, silly.” He parked the car, trying not to look too eager as he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. He already had his keys in his hands once they entered the apartment building. Getting to his room, he quickly unlocked the door, allowing Hange to enter first. She quickly kicked off her shoes, as did Levi once he shut and locked the door. “Hange, you-“ Her hands were already untying his tie as she passionately kissed him. His hands were placed at her waist, feeling the silk fabric beneath his fingertips. He squeezed slightly, feeling the soft skin of her belly underneath. They didn’t break the kiss as they entered the bedroom. Levi was already unbuttoning his top. She pushed him onto the bed with a slightly forceful shove. It turned Levi on instantly. He loved when she pushed him around. He felt his face flush as he became flustered. She knelt on the bed, crawling towards him. He got a revealing view of her boobs and cleavage. He reached out to touch her right one, squeezing it. It felt soft, too soft. “No bra tonight,” Hange mentioned, winking as she straddled him. Levi let out an overwhelmed sigh. He cupped it, squeezing firmly again. He loved how soft they felt in his hands. How they were small but perfectly so, fitting in his hands. They slightly overfilled his hands which he loved. His other hand slid up her smooth, freshly shaven thigh. “No panties either?” he asked, kissing and nipping her collarbone. “Why don’t you find out?” she teased, wrapping her hand around his neck, choking him. The sensation of her hand on his neck made his dick throb harder underneath her. She giggled. “You like that?” she asked, starting to kiss her way down his neck to his muscular chest and abdomen, not giving him a chance to check if she was bare underneath. She brushed her fingertips over his abs. She felt extremely lucky. “Yes,” he moaned, starting to unbuckle his belt. He melted whenever she touched him; He needed her. One of the straps of Hange’s dress was hanging off her shoulder. Levi did the honors of pulling the dress down to her stomach, exposing her round breasts. The sight made Levi sit up on his knees, pushing her onto her back. He kissed her lips sloppily before beginning to suck on her nipple. The feeling caused Hange to start throbbing too, aching for him. He choked her as he kissed and bit his way down to her throbbing, soaked region. He enjoyed how she got so confident when touching him, but once he lays a hand on her, she is a horny mess. He pulled the dress off her torso, leaving her bare. She was, in fact, wearing a black, lacy thong. He began to kiss over where her clit was, warming the area. It caused her to squirm underneath him. “Levi… fuck!” she moaned. “Please touch me.” “I am touching you,” he retorted, licking the inside of her thighs. His warm, wet tongue caused her to shiver, her legs opening wider. He moved her thong to the side, exposing her pussy. He could see her clit and opening throb. I did this to her, he thought. I guess I’ve still got it. “Y-you know what I mean,” she panted, pulling her panties off entirely, Hange’s legs pressed together in the air to do so. He respectfully pulled her thighs apart, gripping the inside of each, soft thigh. He put his tongue on her clit, drawing small circles. He attempted to write his name in cursive with his tongue. Her moans sounded like one from a goddess. His fingers almost slipped into her opening since she was so wet. “Why are you so wet?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “It’s your fault, Levi. Now, clean me u-“ She didn’t even need to finish speaking before he shoved two fingers inside her, still working his magic on her clit. She was moaning louder now, on the verge of screaming. “Fuck, Levi. Fuck!” she exclaimed, her back arching. “I need you inside me now.” Say no more, Levi thought. He instantly stopped, pulling his boxers down. His dick popped up and out of his underwear, already dripping. He was going to push it inside her when she placed both her hands on it, pumping at a fast and consistent pace. The sight of her drive him fucking crazy: her legs spread in the air as she jerked him off, her blushed and sweaty face, her sexy body underneath him, her tits jiggling with each pump of his dick. He let out moans of pleasure, which encouraged her to grip him stronger. “Get off me,” he commanded, pulling her legs closer to him. She let go, allowing him to put his dick inside her. As he entered, her name slipped out of his mouth. It was so soft, tight, and warm, he was almost sent to the edge. He grabbed her waist, slowly but consistently thrusting his long throbbing dick into her pussy. Each thrust allowed a moan to escape each of their lips. Levi mentally flipped off the blonde man at the restaurant. “You like it, baby?” He asked, starting to pick up the pace. “Yes… yes… yes,” She answered. Her eyes rolled back, causing Levi to put his hand around her throat. She was his. He felt himself getting close, and with some damn good will-power, he took his dick out. He kissed her passionately, teasing her opening. “God, you’re so fucking good to me,” She panted, sitting up. “Let me ride you. Let me thank you.” She whispered this in his ear, sending chills down his entire body. She placed her hand on his chest, pushing him supine into the bed. She crawled on top of him, straddling but facing him. He took a moment to admire her body. Her round breasts, her slightly curved waist, the skin growing wider on her hips when she straddled him. She grabbed his dick from behind, slowly easing down on it. She placed her hands firmly on his strong chest, beginning to grind her hips forward and back, and up and down. He was getting close. Whenever she rode him, just seeing her in and of itself made him horny. Whenever he jerked off alone, this is what he thought about every single time. She looked so hot when she rode him, it couldn’t be helped. The sound of the skin slapping together and each of their moans filled the room. “I’m all fucking yours, Levi!” She exclaimed, starting to pick up her pace. He placed his hand around her neck, pulling her face towards him. “I don’t think I heard you correctly,” Levi whispered in her ear, her body shaking on top of his. “Who are you talking about?” He began to thrust his hips upward, thrusting into her. He needed just a little more convincing “You…” She panted. He pounded harder and harder, causing her to moan louder. “Yours, Levi! I love you. I’m all fucking yours!” She continued to chant this a few more times before Levi placed his fingers to her clit, pressing a bit and rubbing in a circular motion. She opened her mouth to speak, but only cries came out. Suddenly, Levi felt her pussy contract around his dick, warming to an extreme. When he looked at her beautiful, pleasured face and her round, perky breasts and as she orgasmed on his dick, he came too. “Fuck, Hange,” he exhaled, filling her up. She slowly rocked her hips forward and back as he came inside her. Her body fell atop of his, her head next to his. Both of them were panting loud. She slowly sat up and got off his dick. She lay next to her lover. “Oh my fucking God,” She sighed, looking at Levi. She admired his side profile for a moment. His beautiful slightly-turned-up nose; his pink, swollen, wet lips; his messy raven hair. “What got into you?” He took a deep breath before responding. “Well, if you let me finish my sentence earlier, I was going to tell you how beautiful you looked.” “Would you prefer it if I didn’t interrupt?” “No.” Hange chuckled softly, interlocking their fingers. “You know at the restaurant I saw you. Right?” Hange asked, looking at Levi again. He furrowed his brows, then his face relaxed. “Oh.” He realized she did just appear as he kneed that bastard in the crotch. He huffed. “Did you get jealous?” She asked. “…No. Of course not.” Hange kissed his shoulder, knowing the opposite was true. “I just wanted to remind you of how much I love you. How no one else can have you.” Hange chuckled, using her elbow to prop herself up to look at him head on. She placed her hand on his cheek, their eyes fixed on one another’s. “I love you, too. If you need me to prove it to you, just say the word.”

#levihan #levihan smut #levihan fic #levi ackerman #hange zoe #hanji zoe #hange x levi #levi x hange #levi x hanji #smut #aot fic #snk fic #aot smut #snk smut #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin

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shelby-love · 3 years

Text

STEFAN SALVATORE

Fatherly Joy of Letting Go

Requested: no

Prompts: “Aren’t you going to give me the ‘if you hurt my daughter, I’ll kill you’ talk?”; “Why? My daughter is perfectly capable of killing you herself, should the need arise.”

Credits to @oopsprompts for the perfect prompts! You can find their post on my side-blog ( @fairy-archive ), I reblogged it!

Warning(s): none

Author’s note: I LOVE THIS (915 words wow!)

Tags(general): @fofisstilinski @short-potato @miranda0102 @httphiddlestan @caromichaela @xx-missunicorn-xx @jemmakates @lorenakaspersen @scarletsoldierrr @theravenclawmarauder @httphiddlestan @tclaerh @chefdoeuvre

NOTE: Because I closed requests for One Chicago, I will be opening new tag lists for other fandoms so people on my general tag lists don’t have to be tagged on my all posts. Makes sense? :) <3

Let me know if you want to be added to my TVD (The Vampire Diaries) and TO (The Originals) tag list!

Rebekah maneuvered the golden hairpins into your hair with what looked like actual struggle. "Could you stop moving for a second?"

"I'm trying." You mumbled through gritted teeth. Not only were the hairpins the sole reason your scalp was hurting, but they were also incredibly over the top.

What kind of teenager wears gold encrusted hairpins from the 16th century to a first date in the 21st one. You, apparently.

They seemed extensive even with the fact that you were going out with a century old vampire.

Your lips twisted in distaste when you saw them glimmer under the light.

"These very pins were worn by Anne Knollys in the 16th century. A baroness. Gorgeous if you ask me." Your aunt spoke up, pinning another golden pin into your curls. "Here. All done."

You wanted to asked what the fuss was all about but then again... She probably knew the woman that had once owned the very hairpins that are stuck in your hair.

Rebekah had a way of making things extraordinary. Dressed in casual clothing - a t-shirt and a pair of jeans – it was your hairstyle that spoke volumes and told a story of who you were. Someone confident and naturally beautiful. "Wow."

"I know right?" She beamed, pulling you up with little to no effort. "Now the dress."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Pinch me."

She laughed, "I won't. Because you know it's real."

Getting into the dress was easier said than done. Rebekah was particularly keen on helping you in without moving a single hairpin. The flowy dress had a special shine to it. You looked great.

"You look gorgeous, my love." She mused with a small smile as she fixes the back of your dress.

"You really think so?"

"I bet he won't be able to take his eyes and hands off you tonight," Rebekah remarks, her eyes alight with excitement.

You grasp your dress in your hands and make your way down. Sure enough, light chatter makes its way into your ear as you descend the stairs.

Stefan Salvatore is standing in the grand foyer, talking quietly with your father and uncles. They all look tall and imposing, though Elijah, Kol and your father had a certain air around them. Older vampires, let alone the oldest ones, tended to have weight in their stares, as if the passing centuries had left a tangible heaviness behind their tale.

Stefan is standing in the middle of them with his back facing the staircase.

They cease talking as soon as the clicking of your heels enter their ears, and the smell of your perfume wafts through the air. Stefan turns around, and you feel as if all breath from your lungs was knocked out. You swallow shyly, still not quite unable to meet his stare.

His handsome looks don't deceive. The hero like hair is combed back and styled nicely in a way that made you sure he had help. Underneath the dark expensive suit, he's wearing a milky white dress shirt and a striped gray and deep red silk tie.

Stefan's eyes widen when he catches the sight of you. They rake you from top to bottom, from the golden pins to the tips of your black pointy heels, then back up again before settling to your eyes. Something flared in his eyes, exciting you for what's to come this evening.

He steps forward gracefully as you finish walking down the stairs. "You look beautiful, Y/N," he says before he brushes his warm lips on your knuckles.

"Have fun you two," says Elijah with a smile. Your eyes dart to the expensive bottle of wine he cradles in his arms. Very expensive.

No wonder he's letting you go just like that.

"Don't stay out late," reminds Kol, raising his index finger to Stefan.

"Do we have a curfew?" You ask him jokingly.

"Yes." He informs proudly. "Be back before midnight. I'll be here waiting with my shotgun."

Snickers and light laughs erupt within the groups.

Stefan Salvatore smirks, pulling you close to him. "Aren't you going to give me the 'if you hurt my daughter, I'll kill you' talk?"

He had directed his question at your real father. The one who really had the right to wait for you with his shotgun. Or fangs, in his case.

If it were any other man, he would have him dead before sunrise.

Unfortunately for him and fortunately for you – Stefan Salvatore wasn't just anyone.

Not even your dad could kill him thanks to the history the two shared long before you were in the picture.

"Brave as always, Stefan." Klaus mused with a smirk dancing on his lips.

"I try my best." Your date returned in the same matter with a gallant tilt of his head.

Your darling father walked toward you, only you, and took your hands in his like he had done countless of times when you were a child. Something felt different because he didn't want to let go. "You look dashing."

"Thank you, dad."

The kiss he pressed to your cheek was the seal of his approval.

"Why? My daughter is perfectly capable of killing you herself, should the need arise."

"Nik!"

"Relax Rebekah," He brushed her off. "This is me being approving of their relationship."

The air changed and you breathed in relief.

"Now," Your dad clapped. "Off you go. And like Kol said, we will be waiting."

His eyes glowed in yellow for effect.

Stefan only smiled tightly, gripped your waist, and maneuvered you to his flashy car.

"That went well." He muttered, once both of you settled inside and the leather scent of the car's interior seemed to overtake your senses.

"Stefan," you breathed, eyes glimmering under the moonlight. "It couldn't have gone better. Trust me."

MASTERLIST

#the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries fanfiction #the vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diaries stefan #the vampire diaries klaus #tvd imagine #tvd #tvd fanfiction #tvd x reader #Stefan Salvatore #stefan salvatore imagine #stefan salvatore x reader #stefan salvatore fanfiction #klaus mikaelson daughter #klaus mikaelson daughter imagine #klaus mikaelson daughter one shot #klaus mikaelson daughter fanfic

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beskarberry · 3 years

Text

Devil’s Advocate

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 5

(The Mandalorian x f!reader)

“That your girl over there?” Mando followed their gaze wordlessly, reluctant to make friends right now while he was busy waiting for you to call him back to your side. “Thought so.” The stranger took a long drag on an inhalant, blowing vibrant pink clouds into the smoky room. “Sorry for your loss, Elios always gets what he wants.” Mando turned again to the stranger, fixing them with his black hole glare, but they only shrugged; watching the drinking game unfold between you and the devil himself.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 11.2k whoops

Content warnings: VICES: gambling/smoking/drinking (reader drinks) Introduction of chapter-specific OC characters. Lots of angst to fluff, sexy times of course.

A/N: This might be more self indulgent than the first chapters but not because of the smut. I kinda go off about fancy clothes so long descriptions of costumes are a big chunk of this chapter.

<-Previous Next->

You hated everything about Canto Bight.

Everything about the city was so... artificial. The stadium flood lights, the glowing neon signs, even the ocean herself had been excavated from the planet’s stubborn sandstone surface instead of eroded naturally by the march of time. To you it was like looking at Corellia’s gold painted twin, a monument to the hubris of all sentient life.

Even the patrons of the gilded city were fake; their clothes, their makeup, their personalities. Every aspect of them was perfectly curated to deceive and lie, whatever fanciful display would work best to cheat their way to the jackpot. You almost wished you could look past the falseness of it, experience the visual fanfare of light and color that reflected on every surface. You wanted the music and the art and the decor that had been so carefully picked and placed to mean something to you, to sparkle in your heart just as it sparkled in the eyes of the teeming masses. But, all for naught, the gleaming metropolis stung your eyes; and you turned away from it to admire the quaint little space that actually mattered to you.

You shared the tight quarters of the cockpit with the two strange boys that had recently whisked you away to the stars. Mando was seated in the pilot's chair with his tiny green son perched in his lap, trying to get him to eat his dinner without making so much of a mess. You had already eaten, and you were turning the last hunter’s puck over in your hand, reluctant to get this chase started and take away from the familial scene beside you. It would have to happen sooner or later, and you gave the puck a squeeze to fire up the projector. A ghostly blue fog glowed up into the space above your palm, and the face that looked back at you was surprisingly fair; if not for his crimson skin and long black horns you wouldn’t have known he was Devaronian by his elegant features alone.

Elios Blackwater was a dapper debonair, his high cheekbones angled sharply under devious eyes towards a sly, sharp toothed grin. The puck notes didn’t specify what he was wanted for, though from the looks of his charming smile and shifting eyes it could easily be anything from a gamblers quarrel to breaking hearts, with a higher reward for being returned alive rather than dead. He would most likely be in a heavily inhabited area, probably as close to Canto Bight’s aurelian heart as possible. You didn’t know why Mando had taken a bounty puck for such a densely populated world, and you would have loved to know what his plan was to get to the city’s casino center before you had arrived in his life. A pair of ragamuffin bounty hunters and their floating baby bucket would stick out like sore thumbs in this gilded mecca of gamblers. If you were going to get to your quarry without being arrested, you were going to have to blend in.

“We’re going to have to do something about...this.” You said, waving your hand in front of your partner’s ferocious attire, though truthfully you weren’t dressed any more appropriately for the mission at hand. “They’ll see us coming a mile away.”

He glanced down at himself with a tilt of his helmet, ignoring the mess his son was making of his meal. “What do you have in mind?”

You weren’t entirely sure yet. From where the Crest was parked you could see the glittering city’s reflection sparkling on the water far ahead of you down the beach, a sight most would find alluring, but to you it was just harsh glare. Nearby where you had landed were other space craft parked up and down the gravelly, machine-carved beach; the pleasure cruisers of wealthy betters made your little scrapheap look even worse than it already did. You watched out the cockpit’s transperisteel window, noting the movement of patrons and their attending droids loading skiffs with piles of luggage, and got yourself a mighty fine idea.

"I think so, but you're probably not going to like it. Stay here." You rose from your seat and kissed the baby on the head, earning yourself a soft, mush-mouthed chirp before you slid down the ladder and let yourself out of the old rust bucket and into the salty sea air of the Cantonican night. Gravel crunched under your boots, and you took a moment to turn and glance back at the Crest, catching the faintest flicker of scope glare where Mando was nervously watching you from the flight deck. Ahead of you a large cruiser was being unloaded by droids, the owners having long since made their way to the casinos, and you made yourself known to the robotic servants with your most charming damsel-in-distress voice.

"Hello! Excuse me! My luggage is too heavy to carry, can you help me? It's just over here on my ship..." The droid nearest you made a stiff bowing motion and tottered after you with the loaded hoverskiff floating along behind. You guided the droid up the open ramp and into the bowels of the ship to where your difficult luggage lay. It never stood a chance, bits of wire and duraplast flew across the cabin like confetti from the blaster shot to its head. Mando lowered his gun back to his holster, freeing his hands to help you haul the skiff into the narrow cabin space, then quickly close the ramp behind you.

The sled took up most of the walking space in the ship, so you got up on top of it and began looting through the stolen designer bags, pulling resplendent finery out into the hazy light. The first tote was full of piles of silk sewn for something with more arms than the two of you put together, so most of those items were tossed to the floor. The second bag was just capes, each a unique and lovely pattern, but nothing more. You demolished the remaining bags, making piles on the floor for ‘maybes’ and ‘definitely-nots’ until you found what you were looking for: a humanoid woman’s clothes.

Most of the unknown lady’s elegant garments would be just slightly too big on you, but you were able to settle on a soft, garnet colored evening gown that would go just above your knees, with extra length in the back. It had a sloping neckline that plunged at your cleavage, and around the bell of the skirt were silver rhinestones that caught the light of the cabin like dewdrops, the weight of them giving the dress a wistful sway. You wouldn't be able to carry much in such a revealing article, but a blaster and a knife alone had gotten you out of more trouble than you would care to admit.

You were fishing through the feminine things for something to do about your hair when you caught Mando in the corner of your eye. He was leaning against the hull wall, just watching you as you made a fat mess of the Razor's interior. You smiled down at him from your floating perch and held up the fanciful garment that you had picked out for him to see. "You like it?"

"It doesn't suit you, mesh’la." He said with a lazy tilt of his helmet. You had begun to mentally keep track of all the Mando’a he used around you, and you were starting to notice his frequent use of affectionates. You spun slightly so he could get a good look at how the fabric moved in the light, but the hunter gear you currently had on took away from the loveliness of the expensive clothes. You guessed he preferred your killer garb anyway over the flimsy, delicate fabric. Or nothing at all.

"Well, it’ll have to do, and if you don't start picking something out for yourself I’m going to dress you up like a dandy.”

He sighed, long and tired before turning his attention to the silken pile on the floor. You went back to the luggage, finding some knee high boots that were close enough to your size, but had a heel height that was going to make your ankles cry. You picked out some tasteless accessories: some bracelets, and big, jewel-encrusted hair pins to wear as well. The glitzier that you were, the less you would be noticed in this bass-ackward town. When you had made your frivolous selections you hopped off the skiff to help Mando with his costume. He was worse at finding something to wear than you were, having only picked out some of his own black leather gloves and two pairs of pants that were not made for human legs. Mandalorian armor did not come off as far as your metal man was concerned, and you were going to have to find a way to hide his bulk. You convinced him to lose his cloak, chest belts, and the bandoliers on his hips and boots, anything to lighten the load. Loose silks and stiff fiber combos would be your best friend, and you cobbled together what you could for your beskar-burdened buddy.

After what seemed like an eternity you had him dressed to the nines, or at least the eights. You had covered his chest plate in a black silk shirt and stiff black vest. The shirt had wide bottomed sleeves and neat, tight cuffs that hid his vambraces well, but you still made him wear a cinched-waist blazer plus a long, black and silver cape that almost reached the floor. You found a dark red pocket square that matched your dress and tucked it into the pocket of his vest, a subtle, but unmistakable announcement to the world that he was there with you. It was a ridiculous amount of fabric on top of an already massive mountain of metal, but the look was very in-style for Canto Bight. All together he actually passed for something besides a murder machine, and you gave yourself a mental pat on the back for a job well done. Mando held still for you while you fussed with his outfit with only the occasional huff. As much as he didn't like the idea of walking so boldly through the gilded city, he did enjoy your brazen touch each time you added another article of clothing.

“And now for the finishing touch.” There was nothing you could do about his helmet, so you were just going to have to make it look as nice as you could. You hadn’t changed into your chosen disguise yet, so you strode through the messy cabin with ease until you reached the lock box next to the cot. Inside you found the krayt’s teeth that you had gifted him and pulled them out into the light, waving them at him as you stretched over the heaps of fabric on the ground. He raised his hands in protest.

“What if I lose them?”

“You can wear these or you can wear whatever the hell this is.” You held up an enormous chain of jewels that looked like it belonged in the treasure case at an arcade instead of around somebody's neck. “Besides, I know you won't lose them, you like them too much.” He tilted his helmet at you with disdain, and you realized that was precisely the reason he didn’t want to wear them, such lovely gifts should be kept safe and secure. But he let you press the precious trinkets into the recess of his helmet where his human cheeks would be anyway. The frozen pools of moonlight tied everything about his sin-city look into a perfect, glittery bow. You had grown to admire the look of him in his cultural armor, the ferocity of it, the utility and strength of the beskar that shined no matter how much damage it took; and you were a bit sad to see it hidden. The look of the man standing before you had a wildly different feel, though it was not one you were opposed to.

“You look nice, Din.” The sound of his own name coming from your lips made his heart swell, and he reached out for your hand on instinct to pull your knuckles to his brow in the sweet gesture of his people that you both now used. His movements caused the finery he was masquerading in to catch the cabin’s hazy light, and you got excited to put on your own costume and join him in looking like a fool. When he let your hand fall, you bounded over to your pile, throwing the hunting clothes off of yourself as you went. When you were standing there in nothing but your Tattooinian muck boots you cast a sly glance over your shoulder. As expected, the single black eye of your Mandalorian was locked on your almost-naked form, and you realized that in the time you had been together he had never seen you fully naked; just the parts of you he needed to get to in the moment. “How’s this? You like this better?”

When he didn’t answer right away you looked down at yourself and saw what he was staring at. You had forgotten about the marks of conquest he had put there when he had been driven to a sexual frenzy by the last quarry’s poison, still dotting your thighs with dark purple splotches. Not once had you been upset with him for his actions, you were just thankful you both made it through the ordeal alive, but he still looked at the damning marks with shame. He had been forced to break his protector’s oath against his will, inflicting injury to your precious body with his own two hands. You waited until his visor made its way back up to meet your eyes, and you reached out for him to give you his hand. He sheepishly obeyed, and you brought his hand to your lips, kissing at the all-black leather slowly until you heard him sigh through his modulator. You would forgive him a hundred times if you had to, and then a hundred more if it meant he could forgive himself. You pulled his hands to your waist and leaned up against him, enjoying the feel of new clothes on your skin and letting your hands run up his silken arms. “Well you can have this,” You nodded down at your bare everything with a mischievous grin, “As soon as we catch this fucko.”

This was the last bounty you would need before you made the trip back to Nevarro, but you were still on the fence about how completing your mission made you feel. On one hand you would be free of the Guild’s relentless hunters, but on the other your partnership with the strange metal man and his adorable beanbag of a son would come to a close. You turned back to your outfit and began cinching a pair of thigh holsters to your legs, hiding your wincing face as the leather closed around your bruises; a blaster on one leg and a knife on the other. You pulled on the dress and fixed up your hair as best you could, then stepped out of your good boots and into the slutty knee-highs. There was only one loose end to take care of.

“Where’s baby?” You glanced around the messy cabin, looking for your foundling. In the corner under a pile of capes there was movement, and you cleared the flashy finery away to reveal your bestest little friend. Big, glittering orbs looked up at you from the pile of fabric, and a tiny toothy grin shined from his cute baby face. “Heya booger, you ready to go?” You scooped him up in your arms for a hug before picking a big shiny scarf up to wrap him up with, then placed him carefully down in one of the gaudy designer bags. “If anyone asks, he is a pet.” The child didn’t seem to care, he was just happy to be included, waving his little pudgy baby hands up at you to hold. You squeezed his tiny paw, then turned to Mando, “You ready to go, Lord Beskar?”

He glanced down at himself, tilting his palms up and shrugging. “I guess so, I feel ridiculous.”

“Good enough!” You made for the exit ramp with a big stride, and almost broke your damn ankle on the first step, falling gracelessly into the arms of your partner. He caught you with ease, and your cheeks went red with his strong, gentle hands on you again for the hundredth time. You got to your feet, but you would be leaning heavily on him for most of the night until the boots were broken in. With you hanging off of his arm the two of you looked like a proper couple, just heading out for a night on the town instead of two bloodthirsty bounty hunters on the prowl. You might let yourself pretend though, just for the night.

You took a transport speeder from the beach to the city’s entrance, then made your way through the gilded streets, following the red blink of the bounty fob towards your quarry. You had to stop multiple times, the fucking boots making your feet hurt like you knew they would. Mando stood patiently with you each time, and more than once offered to just carry you. His visor would glide from side to side, always on the alert for anyone that might be following you, or worse, hunting you down. The tracking fob led you to the most obvious choice of casino: the tallest, brightest, shiniest temple of vice smack dab in the city’s center.

The front entryway was dominated by a roaring, gushing fountain, shooting geysers in a perfectly timed pattern high into the Cantonican night sky. The fountain was lit up with bright, multicolored spotlights so that every stream of water and drop of spray glittered back in defiance of the stars that had inspired them. Inside, the casino floor was packed with patrons, ranging in size and species in an infinite array of wealth and power. Chandeliers hung high above you from the soaring cathedral ceilings, sending sparkling lights racing around the endless room like shooting stars. Every surface was bright and gleaming, dozens of pillars and statues illuminated by blinding limelight. Even the floor was magnificent, black and white marble with huge inlaid stars, guiding gamblers through the limitless space towards their wildest desires. Again you wished you could appreciate the extravagance of it all, though the way the lights streamed like mercury over the beskar of your pretend date made something else sparkle behind your eyes.

The smell of inhalants and alcohol burned in your nose, and you took a moment to make sure your purse puppy’s face was covered with something so he wouldn’t have to endure it as much as you were. The sound of gamblers and music and roaring competition was louder than the screams of the hyperspace engine aboard the Crest, the cacophony of it all making you anxious. You were thankful that you weren’t hunting this bounty alone, and you still held on to Mando tightly, letting him lead you over the cosmic marble floor through the streaming masses. The people paid you no mind, moving out of the way without casting a second glance. Your costumes were working exactly as you had intended, and you applauded yourself for how well you had deceived the City of Lies.

You had guessed that if your bounty would be anywhere, it would be at the center of attention, and you were right. Elios Blackwater sat at the atrium bar, surrounded by beautiful and interesting people. The glint of gold jewelry caught the radiant casino lights every time he moved, drawing the eyes of all those around him. He was telling some kind of wild story that had his little crowd hooked on every word, though you could tell from a distance he was all bullshit. Immediately you knew this was a man that was used to having everything he desired, never being denied a single whim in all his days. A plan began to simmer in your skull, and you knew right away your partner was not going to like it. If you were going to get the quarry alone, you were going to have to persuade him to leave the company of his fans, and you only knew one sure-fire method for a man of Blackwater’s tastes. You let yourself off of your escorts’ arm to turn and face him, pulling his hands to your hips and letting your own rest on his shoulders so that to any outsiders you two would be just another pair of passionate dancers making their way through the counterfeit cosmos.

“Mando, do you trust me?” His hidden eyes were still glancing around the room, scanning for any lurking threats.

“Of course.” His words went right over your head, his ears too full of the sounds of potential danger to really hear you. You huffed and ran your hands to his bedazzled helmet, pulling it down to meet your eyes.

“Pay attention, bucket boy. I need to hear you say it and know that you mean it. Do you trust me?” He cocked his head, confused that you would have to ask twice.

“Yes, ner cyar’ika, I trust you.”

“Good.” You let your hands fall back to his armored shoulders, pressing yourself up against him tighter. Your fingers fidgeted in the heavy material of his cloak, he was going to hate this. “Because I need to do something. Alone.”

That got his attention fast.

“No, it’s too dangerous here. I want you where I can protect you. What if there’s hunters?”

“I know, I need you to cover me, but from a distance. I think I can convince Elios to walk right into the carbonite freezer, but I can’t do it with you looming over me.” You wrapped your hands around the back of his helmet, pulling him down so that his forehead met with yours. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t think it would work.” He sighed between your hands, the steam of his breath slipping out from under the helmet’s edge. There was nothing he would rather not do than be away from you, but he did trust you, and he nodded against your embrace.

“I’ll call for you as soon as I’m ready, ok? Just keep your eyes on me, and don’t cause a scene. No matter what.” You couldn’t kiss him like you wanted to, but you still pressed your lips to the side of his beskar before letting go, pulling yourself away from his tender grasp. His hands still floated in the space where you had been as you turned away from him and made your way to the bar, the heavy purse bumping against your weaponized thighs with every flint and tinder step of your sky high heels. As you got closer to the bounty you could hear the shreds of his conversation starting to make their way over the noise of the casino.

“...And I said ‘Darlin’ if you didn’t want to take it home with you, ya shouldn’t have put it in your mouth!” The way he was telling his story gave you the impression that it wasn’t one you wanted to hear, and you started to regret your foolhardy plan. Gold rings and precious jewels sparkled all the way from his fingers to the caps on his horns, making it impossible for most to look away, a fact made apparent by his captivated audience. The beautiful boozers laughed and cheered at his every word, though from his stupidass sounding story you wondered how much of the affection was alcohol induced. You pulled a seat up at the bar a few stools away from the crowd and ordered yourself a shot of spotchka and a couple packs of cookies. You slipped the snacks into your bag for Din’s foundling, you would be needing him for your plan to work as well; and the promise of treats would keep his bright-eyed attention on you.

The taste of spotchka was vile, but you had started your journey though the galaxy on the gigantic starcruisers that were built on your homeworld of Corellia, and you had gotten to know the taste of the sailor-favorite drink at a tender age. You sipped at your brew, listening casually to the Devaronian’s conversation, but never turned your eyes to him. Every once in a while another bar patron would swagger up beside you to offer you another shot. You turned down anything you didn’t order yourself, but you started telling them fabricated stories about your life among the stars, most of which were wild tales of fancy from old holovids you had seen. You wished you could turn around and find your favorite rust bucket, wherever he may be hiding among the festivities, and give him something to reassure him. A nod or a wave, anything to let him know you weren’t just making him jealous on purpose.

Soon you were throwing back brightly glowing shots of brew, and a handful of interested patrons had gathered around you to hear about how you had jerry-rigged a star cruiser to run on spotchka when you were a space pirate smuggling kyber crystals for the resistance, among other things. When you had your head tilted back you cast a glance towards the bounty, and saw what you had been waiting for. His hooded eyes were watching you intently, he didn’t like that someone was getting any of the attention pie that he believed was his alone, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he had to do something about it. Soon enough the dapper devil rose from his entourage, running a painted claw through his long dark hair before making his way to you, sauntering with every step.

Hook.

“Well hello there, darlin’, name’s Elios. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing chugging spotchka when you could be drinkin’ something as fine as you are?” The debonair’s words were long and slow, making sure that every drawn syllable would be heard. “Bartender! Get this lovely lady a real drink, if ya please.” You weren’t sure what counted as a ‘real drink’, but the dark liquid that was slid over to you stank even worse than spotchka with the strength of its proof. Elios couldn’t stand that someone else might be having more fun than he was, and he was determined to put you out of commission. He wanted to do it in such a way that you would be thanking him for it, preferably while on your knees. “What’s yer name, baby cakes?”

From the other side of the busy casino you could feel the void of a visor making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Mando was standing on the far side of the slot machines where the light was just a little less glaring, so motionless he might have been part of the decorations. He wasn’t sure what your plan was, or how you would talk the quarry into being captured without gaining the suspicion of the wandering security enforcers. He bristled whenever a bar patron started trying to make nice with you, and only got progressively more frustrated when more and more started hanging around you. When he saw the bounty slink his way over to you he wanted to dash across the marble floor and break his fucking neck just for being in your airspace. ‘Don’t make a scene, no matter what’ is what you had told him, and you had asked him to trust you. So he did as he was asked. Watching, waiting.

“Hmm, I don’t think you could handle it.” Oh, Elios didn’t like that one bit, nobody told Mr. Blackwater ‘no’ without consequences. He swirled a glass of the same dark liquid around in one perfectly manicured hand, his polished claws clicking on the side of the glass. You continued to ignore him, but you started on the new drink in front of you. Yucky, at least spotchka was familiar. He took your acceptance of the drink as an invitation to join you at the bar.

“You’re awful sly, baby cakes, tell me yer name so I can make you forget it later.” His pointed teeth flashed out from his crooked smile, and you could smell the stench of expensive cologne and aftershave. You rolled your eyes big and wide so he could see just how unimpressed you were, but your nose was burning from how bad he smelled. This was a bad idea, but only because of how well it was going to work. Fresher soap, where are you?

“I’ll tell you what, if you can out-drink me, I’ll tell you my name.” His wicked smile split his face, showing off rows of brilliant white fangs. Party-boy could probably hold a few good shots, but you were raised by sailors, and you were gonna drink his ass under the table.

“You’re on, sweet cheeks. Bartender! Another round!” Another set of shot glasses plinked to the counter, and vanished just as fast. Elios was eyeing you up and down, seeing if you were all bark and no bite. If he could just get you drunk enough…

Far from where you were drinking the Mandalorian you had asked to trust in you was furious, trying not to thumb the handle of his blaster that poked out from the side of his hip under his cloak. It would be so easy, he could hit the target from here and it would be over, you would be back by his side and not being drooled over by that fucking pathetic excuse for a man.

“He has that effect on people.”

Mando’s helmet snapped on the sounds’ source, so lost in vicious thoughts that he didn’t hear the stranger come to lean against the wall by him. They were tall and thin, translucent green skin and a mop of hair-like cilia growing from their head to their flowy chiffon clothes. They looked exhausted. “That your girl over there?” Mando followed their gaze wordlessly, reluctant to make friends right now while he was busy waiting for you to call him back to your side. “Thought so.” The stranger took a long drag on an inhalant, blowing vibrant pink clouds into the smoky room. “Sorry for your loss, Elios always gets what he wants.” Mando turned again to the stranger, fixing them with his black hole glare, but they only shrugged; watching the drinking game unfold between you and the devil himself.

“Another!” You hollered, but the glasses were already in front of you, then gone again. The Devaronian hissed back the sting of the high-dollar liquor, shaking his long mane that had started to come undone. You pretended to reel from the liquor's effects, leaning back just a tad too far on your seat. “Again!” The third round of shots came and went, and Elios nearly fell off his stool. Right where I want you. You waved at the bartender for the fourth and final shot that would probably put the devil right on his ass, but that’s not where you were headed with this show of tenacity. You had to get him alone before you made your capture, or the security enforcers that littered the casino floor would descend on you like vultures.

You waited til he had thrown his drink back before you tilted yours, purposely spilling a few drops down your front so the booze would trickle down between your breasts. Elios nearly choked, and you knew you had his full, undivided attention. Din, I’m so sorry.

“Woo! I don’t think I can do any more, Mister Blackwater, you win.” you feigned, holding the back of your hand up to your forehead, trying to convince him that the room was spinning for both of you and not just him. His sultry laugh made your skin crawl.

“Please, call me Elios.”

Line.

“Well, Elios, you still wanna know my name? You’re gonna have to work for it.” You placed a hand on his leg, running your fingers up his thigh and around the edge of his waist, pulling at his pockets seductively to drive the point home. Does he have SCALES? What the fuck ew ew ew. He took the hint like a drunk takes to spotchka, flashing you a slurred smile.

“Well… sugar lips, we can take this... elsewhere.”

“Sure thing, Elios, lemme just have my attendant take my Poochie up to my room.” You held the heavy purse up so he could see the big black eyes hiding in its depths.

“What the fuck is that thing?”

“He’s a pet, obviously.”

“What kind’a fuckin’ pet?”

“Purebred.” Your quick answer seemed good enough for Mr. Drinky, and he nodded like that made perfect sense. You raised your fist to the air and snapped your fingers.

The human fortress was at your side in a heartbeat, towering above the two of you. You stuffed the purse in his hands before he could ask where to point his gun. “Here, take Poochums up to my room, mama’s not coming home tonight, if y’know what I mean. Get him washed and fed, and don’t forget to scrub his feet!”

“Yes Ma’am.” The bag was lifted carefully from your fake-drunk hands, and you tried to flash him your best ‘Please-don’t-be-mad-at-me-I-hate-this-too’ face at your partner, but you guessed the look was lost on his visor. The scene did not escape Elios’s eyes like you had hoped it would.

“Now what in the Mmmmaker’s Mammaries is that big ass fuckin’ thing? That some kinda droid? It’s damn fancy.” Shit balls of hell.

“Uh.. Yes! This is the finest in personal assistant droid technology! See, look.” You grabbed Mando’s empty arm and pulled back sharply on the fabric, revealing the delicate button panel of his vambrace. “Only the best money could buy...”

“I gotta get me one of those...” Elios stared bewildered as your personal petsitting droid turned and left. “Well, honey tits, you wanna take this upstairs?” Ugh.

“Oh suurrre… Oh Mr. Blackwater I’m ~soooo~ drunk ahaha…” You were barely buzzed, and you worried that your life among the stars had given your liver bigger balls than a bounty hunter. You wobbled on your stool, for phase two of your plan to work you would have to delay Elios as long as possible. You watched as the man whose heart you had stolen faded away from you, the fancy purse hooped over his shoulder and knocking up against his leg, cape billowing behind him as he went. Alright, Baby Beans, it’s up to you now!

Din was seething under his helmet, pissed as shit that this was what your elaborate ‘plan’ entailed. He was trying not to storm through the casino as he left to take your ‘Poochums’ up to your room, whatever the hell that fucking meant. How could he be so fucking stupid? This was exactly the same ruse you had tried to pull on him from day one. Seduction was your real talent, luring your lovers to their untimely demise. How many times had you pulled this stunt? Was this your master plan all along? Ouch. Play with his heart until you were free of your Guild warrant? Ow. You were just using him to get to Nevarro, then you would fuck off to the stars and leave him behind. After everything you had been through, he was just another notch on your bedp-

“OUCH!”

Din looked down to his side where the pain he was trying to ignore was coming from, and saw a fat green paw sticking out of the ugly expensive purse, digging vicious talons into the side of his leg. His foundling was trying to burrow through his thigh, and his claws might actually have drawn blood. “What, womp rat? What do you want?” There was something in the baby’s other hand, something golden and flashy. Din reached into the bag and pulled the embossed card from his son’s grasp. What’s this? There was a set of numbers etched in gold filigree in the top of the card, their shimmer blasting away the destructive void he had been spiraling into.

Key card! PENTHOUSE key card! You had tricked the bounty into getting close enough to you that you could pick his pocket without him noticing. You were luring Elios right into a trap, and your Mandalorian was the snare. Din felt a mix of emotion ranging from relief to shame, how could he even think for one second that you might be deceiving him? You had asked him to trust you, and he couldn’t even contain his jealousy long enough to make it through one hunt. He felt like such an ass, you were putting your skills to good use, at great risk to your own safety, just like he had asked you to from the beginning. This wasn’t just his hunt anymore, it was a joint effort between the two of you, and it was his turn to run the next leg of the relay. The heavy, silver-laced cloak was tossed to the side as he raced to the elevator, fluttering away behind him as he flew to beat you there.

Meanwhile, you were trying to keep the bounty from falling flat on his face, and the only way to do that was to hold him up yourself. His hands were all over you, the nick of sharp, neat claws catching on the fabric of your evening dress and scratching along your skin. I’m gonna break those fingers, motherfucker. He was slurring his words, making disgusting promises of what he was gonna do to you when you reached his private penthouse. You were just out of range of his boozehole, the lippy thing trying to steal a taste of you. Wobbly steps slowed you both down to almost a crawl, which was exactly what you were trying to do, anything to give Mando time to find the hotel room first. You passed a discarded cloak on the floor, the familiar silver inlay catching the light, and you worried that you might have pushed your partner too far. What if he left? What if he didn’t see the keycard and I’m heading up alone? Please be there, Din. Please don’t leave me with this fucking creep. You both reached the elevator, and Elios fumbled to find his wallet, thankfully having a spare key that he didn’t know he needed. The doors opened, and you realized you would be stuck in your own personal hell for the entire trip up to the top floor suite. Fucking super.

Elios was getting impatient during the ride up, and it took every fiber of your being to keep from retching as his well-moisturized hands ran up and down your spine. The elevator door opened directly into the penthouse, and his perfectly manicured claws dug into your ass to usher you into the room. The top floor suite was dark, save for the lights of Canto Bight shining in through the cathedral windows. You took a mental note of the speeder parked out on the balcony, you would be needing it later. The Devaronian was at your ear, breathing hot, boozy steam around your neck until he was facing you. He went to bite at your mouth, but you stopped him with a finger to his lips.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." You whispered in your most convincing lust-laden voice. The devil chuckled and ran his slimy, forked tongue around the halting digit. Barf.

"Oh yeah, baby cakes? Why’s that?"

You batted your eyelashes and bit your lip into a wry smile before meeting his half-lidded eyes. "Because... you're going to make Daddy very angry."

His lips turned upwards in an aroused sneer, flashing his dazzling, daggerlike teeth, "How could getting a taste of that fiery little mouth’a yours make me angry, darlin’?"

Sinker.

"I'm not talking about you, I'm talking about him."

Elios didn't even have a chance to turn around to see where your eyes were looking before a black and silver fist broke his nose and sent his perfect teeth soaring across the room, throwing him down to the marble floor. Seeing his busted prettyboy face bleeding at your feet made you feel so relieved that a vicious shiver made its way from your head to your toes, and you let your body shake the devil’s touch off of you like a big wet bantha.

"Fuck! Oh fucking hell, Mando, you have -no idea- how hard it was to keep that up, he’s so gross! I’m gonna chuck his ass in carbonite so fucking hard his horns’ll break off!" Your partner was still squared up, just waiting for the interloper to try and get up and fight. He wanted the bounty to get up, flail, scream, any excuse to hit him again. But Blackwater was out cold, staining the white marble floor with his blood.

"You looked like you were handling it."

The deadpan tone of his voice told you that wasn't exactly a compliment, remembering the jealousy that had seethed out of him on Tatooine after that Trandoshan had tried to capture you. You had two choices: you could either try to defend yourself and your unconventional bounty catching method, or you could turn that jealousy in your favor. He didn’t remember much from his toxic encounter with the Ardennian, but you knew that every filthy, possessive thing he had said to you that night was still somewhere in that chrome dome of his; and you became determined to bring them to the light. You crossed one arm over your chest, raising the other to tap a finger against the corner of your lips.

"Oh? You didn't like that, did you? Didn't like that he had his hands on me? Touching things that don’t belong to him?" He didn't answer, but the creaking of leather from his fists tightening told you what you already knew. "Tell me, Mando."

"N-no." His visor remained fixed on the unconscious body still bleeding on the floor. Not good enough.

"No what?"

"No. I didn't like that." His voice was low and raspy, but only because he was trying to keep the boiling rage in his chest from blowing his fucking helmet off.

"Tell me what you didn't like." You stepped over the quarry to your man, running your fingers from his balled fists over his silk and steel arms until you were at his shoulders. You could feel the slightest shudder under all his layers at your touch.

"I didn't like him touching you. Nobody should put their hands on you, cyar'ika" His fists lowered to his sides but his visor was still on the floor. You let your hands wander up his neck to the bejeweled recesses of his helmet and turned him to meet your eyes.

"Why not?"

"B-because..."

"I want to hear you say it."

"Because you are mine." He growled through his helmet so hard that you swore you saw it vibrate, sending a delicious tingle though your spine. Atta boy.

“Again.”

“You are mine!” Even behind the beskar you could hear the clench of his teeth biting back deeper desires. His hands went to your waist, pulling you tightly to his chest. The fire coming off of him was scalding, you had pushed your luck too far with this one, and you could feel the volcano inside his ribcage boiling over. He was furious. His heavy armored head pushed against your brow, and you let your thumbs wrap around the bottom of his helmet to find the thinnest sliver of skin where the metal met the man.

“That’s right, I’m all yours.” When you had said that line to him the first time, you had been plotting your escape from his clutches, but as the reassuring words left your lips you knew there was nobody else in the galaxy you would have running their hands up your sides; and you mentally crossed ‘seduction’ off of your list of hunting skills for good. His oath of me'dinuir had swore him to your side alone, and now you knew without a shred of doubt that you wanted it to go both ways; whether you were Mandalorian or not.

You kissed at the bottom of his visor, so close to getting to feel the true, living flesh of him, and yet so far. You had to have him, you had to purge the demon’s touch from your body with the purifying fire of your protector’s rage. A choked, needy groan made its way out of the modulator, and you felt the heat of his breath on your skin. How desperately you wanted to taste it, fill your mouth with the flavor of him to replace the vile spotchka. You pushed up on his jaw, giving you just a tiny glance at his scruffy chin, and you forced your kisses into the tight, unyielding space of the beskar prison. It wasn’t enough for you, but it was a start, and you could feel his body starting to unwind at your touch. “Kiss me. Please, Mando.”

“Cyar'ika, it's not safe here.” He hated the sound of his own words, the denial of them crushing his very soul. You glanced around the dark penthouse and saw you were alone save for the crumpled devil on the floor and the designer purse that had been stashed in the corner of the room, its occupant still working on the bags of cookies. No eyes on us.

“I won’t look, just... lift your helmet a tiny bit, tin man, I need you, I need to kiss you.” You guessed you were safe enough from prying eyes, but you wouldn’t spill his name to the night just in case there were any sneaky listeners. You squeezed your own eyes shut and nipped at the armors edge again, and just ever-so-slightly began to push up on the unforgiving metal with your thumbs. You were just waiting for his hands to shoot up, to grab your wrists and halt your actions, but they were locked to your sides. Inch by inch you gradually lifted the armor, he would have all the time in the world to stop you, but when you felt the heat of his lips crash against yours you almost let your knees buckle out from under you. His strong arms were tight on your back, pulling you into him so he could kiss you harder.

So much better than spotchka. He was delicious, his taste, his feel, his scent, everything about him was intoxicating. So much more so than the despicable brew you had been throwing back all night, and a thousand times better than anything Elios could have offered. Blech. You realized then why the bounty had smelled so bad to you, though his perfume was expensive and his clothes freshly pressed, he was wrong for you. The wrongness was so overwhelming that it had nearly made you lose your drink, and you didn’t realize how wrong something could be until you tried to compare it to what was right. Din was right, he smelled of leather and beskar and the sweat of a man that had nearly combusted when someone else was at your side. And fresher soap! Thank the Maker.

A soft leather hand went to your head, pulling you into him so he could taste you better. His tongue ran over your lips, darting into you to find yours so they could dance together. You bit him playfully, and the way his breath hitched in his throat sent the fire of your core shooting all the way to your fingertips; and you knew right then that not even kissing his forbidden face would be enough for you. You pulled yourself from his lips, the snap of teeth following your retreat, reluctant to let you leave from the heat of the moment. Carefully, you let the beskar slide back down to cover him, and the anguished whine he let out into the night air almost broke your heart.

“I know, I know, I’m so mean to you, aren’t I?” With him covered you glanced around the room until you saw the private bar. With your thumbs hooked in the pockets of his borrowed vest you guided the two of you towards it until the granite countertop knocked against your ass. You used his shoulders for leverage, hopping up onto the cold surface and wrapping your knees round his waist, happy to find exactly what you were expecting to throbbing between your legs. He pushed himself against you, the feel of his stolen silks on your holstered thighs giving you goosebumps. His heavy metal head fell against your shoulder, and you wrapped your arms around him to hold him close while he ground up against your heat. He couldn’t contain himself around you, though you wouldn’t want him to if he could. You rocked your hips in time with his needy thrusts, and the growls in your ear almost made you think he would come undone with his pants still on. Can’t have that now, can we? "Mando, please fuck me, I can't wait anymore."

You heard thunder rumble out of his chest, sending electricity from where he was pressed to your shoulder straight down to where he was pulsing against your core. He was going to bring you the stars, alright, but not the ones in the night sky. He pulled back so he could look into your eyes from behind his visor, bringing a hand up to caress your pleading face.

"No, I don't want to fuck you." Your eyes shot wide, shocked that he wouldn't want you when he was rutting so hard into you that you could almost feel the dampness of precum through his layers. He saw your face and shook his head. "Elios wanted to fuck you, all of those creeps at the bar wanted to fuck you.” His helmet shook, trying to loosen the words he wanted to say. “No... I- I want to be better than them, I want to give you something else, s-something more.” He was struggling, his inexperience making it difficult to say what was on his mind. All he knew was that he didn’t want to be like them, he wanted to be worthy of you in ways they never could.

“Then make love to me instead.”

“Yes!” The words leaving your lips were like music to his ears, so much more lovely than any song. “I want to do that! I want to make love to you, cyar’ika, if you’ll have me?”

You laughed, nodding your head to hide your bright red cheeks. How he managed to be so ferocious and so sweet on the same day was a mystery you didn’t want to solve. He quickly glanced around the room one more time just to be sure you were alone, the light of the gilded city sending streaks of color over the charms you had pressed to his cheeks. Satisfied that you were the only ones awake in the room, he leaned away from you to rip the constricting blazer off of himself so hard the fabric around his chest and shoulders started to tear. Beskar plates twinkled in the limelight, sending stars flying around the room while he worked his pants open. The sight of him springing into view made your heart flutter, among other things. Long and strong, a pearl of precum glimmering in the dark of the penthouse. His hands went to your legs, the leather of his palms snagging on the straps still belted to your thighs as he pushed the elegant fabric of your dress up to your waist.

“You’re soaked.” You wished you could see what he saw through his visor, the sound of hitched breath telling you he could see you blooming for him clear as day, drinking you in with his hidden eyes. He hooked a thumb in the wet fabric of your panties to pull them out of the way, using his other hand to grip his cock and run the tip over your entrance, bumping against your clit while he lubed himself with your slick. You had to lean back until you were laying on the cold granite countertop, tilting your hips to the edge of the bar so he could see all of you on display. He pressed himself up and in, filling you slowly so he could indulge in every inch that disappeared inside. Your stretched walls clenched around him, making him shiver with each coiled squeeze. The Mandalorian you were giving yourself to pulled himself out of you carefully before thrusting back into you again, fighting every animalistic urge to just plow you into the bar. He was going to make good on his word, he wasn’t going to just fuck you.

But maybe he should have.

“Bing!”

The penthouse elevator door chimed, and both of you pointed blasters on the figure that walked out from the pink haze of the lift into the dark of the room. “Elios? I know you’re up here, I’m just going to get- Oh. There you are.” The stranger spotted the crumpled, unconscious body on the floor, crossing the room until they stood over him. “About time someone split that beautiful lip of yours, Lee-lo.” The stranger that Mando had run into on the casino floor turned their tired eyes to the pair of you, noticing your obvious state of passion. “Oh please, don’t stop on my account, that’s not the worst thing I’ve walked into up here.” They squinted in the dark, then gasped softly, “Wait, it’s you! Oh good! I saw you when you were dancing and was just heartbroken when Lee-lo came between you.” The tall stranger did a little dance. “Fucking Elios.” They kicked at the Devaronian on the floor, “All he lives for is breaking hearts. I’m glad you two made up.”

The wisp of a stranger bent down to the motionless figure on the floor, yanking one of the gold rings from his horns. They said something too low for you to hear, then got up and left in another cloud of pink smoke, the elevator door closing behind them.

You both lowered your blasters, trying to wrap your collective heads around what had just happened. Mando was still buried to the hilt inside you, and you could feel him pulsing with need; but he had been right from the beginning. You weren’t safe here.

“That’s probably not the only spare key. We should go.” You whispered, trying to get your blaster back to its holster under your dress. He groaned, he was getting sick of being torn away from you. He pulled himself almost all the way out, thrust in one more time for good luck, and released himself with a pop! He pulled you to your feet, helping you down from the bar and onto the Maker-forsaken boots you still had on. Fuck these. You ripped the boots off, chucking them somewhere into the dark and crossed the room barefoot to where the oversized purse held the foundling. You were happy to see him all tuckered out in a pile of cookie wrappers, probably not the healthiest thing for him, but it worked. Behind you, your armored companion was hauling the quarry over his shoulder none too gently, ‘accidentally’ knocking his bloody head against the wall as he turned back to you. You both made for the balcony door to the speeder you had noticed earlier, tossing the bounty in the back seat like a bag of garbage.

The ride back to the Crest was thick with anticipation, you weren't finished with each other just yet. Mando pulled the speeder right up to the ramp so you wouldn’t have to walk across sharp gravel, chucking the bounty in after you so hard he slid through the messy cabin and smashed into the wall. You slung the damned devil into the carbonite chamber, punching the freeze button with gusto. The ramp closed behind your armored companion, barely giving you a chance to get up onto the hoverskiff that still dominated the cabin floor before the lights went off. You yanked the dress over your head, listening for the sound of more fabric hitting the floor, then the clanking of beskar being tossed carelessly aside. Belts and snaps and zippers went flying, and you had to try not to laugh at the absurd amount of clothes he had to take off. The skiff tilted with new weight, and the body of a Mandalorian was on top of you, warm lips hunting for yours.

He’s naked! Every piece of armor and shred of clothing was gone, and the feel of bare skin against your body was electrifying. His mouth crashed against yours, fervent kisses desperate to taste you again. You let your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him into you to kiss back. He was hungry for you, biting at your mouth and tongue like a man starved. Plush lips made their way from your mouth down your neck, nipping at your throat and sucking the tender skin until you had bruises to match the ones on your thighs. His hands wandered down your body, rubbing at your breast and teasing your nipples until you were gasping for more. The devious digits moved on until his hand was between your legs, pushing at your folds and finding your clit to spin circles on. He was becoming an expert at finding what made you squirm and whine from his touch, rolling callused fingertips into you until you were making a delicious mess on the pile of stolen silk.

But he wasn’t done there. The fuzzy kisses went from your breast down your belly to where his fingers were working into you. He pulled his hands from your soaked cunt and replaced them with his face, pushing his tongue up against the tiny ball of nerves that had so much power over you. Short, quick circles between long, languid licks had you arching your back and pulling his hair, demanding more. Lost in the heat of your thighs he was happy to give you everything, pushing the smooth muscle of his mouth into your slit and upwards against your clit until you were seeing stars again.

Your hands couldn’t stop exploring him, from his thick head of curls to the strength of his shoulders. The muscles kept going, tight coils on his back and the warm, rigid wall of his chest. The trail of fuzz on his belly went up farther than you were expecting it to, and the fine hairs tickled your fingers on almost every inch of his skin. Your hands trailed over the numerous, vicious scars that marred his flesh like a road map of every near-death experience he had lived through. Gashes on his arms and burns on his sides had healed over into smooth, textureless skin, the marks of a seasoned hunter that nobody but their barer had ever seen.

Having drank his fill, he pulled his face from the apex of your thighs, pushing your knees apart and quickly sheathing himself in you with a ragged groan. Mando’a praises poured from his lips, some you were familiar but many you weren’t, though all of them made your heart flutter. Strong hands wrapped around your knees to keep you in place on the wobbly sled while he pounded into you, the feeling of bare skin on the backs of your legs making you wish you could see him in the light. But the darkness was the greatest keeper of secrets, hiding your love making from the condemnation of his creed.

Make love. Though the phrase was just another on the long list of euphemisms used for sex, the pair of words weighed heavy with meaning in their new context. You wanted to explore the concept the way your hands explored his body, but the fire of your core was thrumming with heat, demanding your undivided attention. Din fell forward to your chest, the sweat of his efforts sticking to your breasts. Wandering kisses sent fire over your skin as he made his way over your peaks, sucking hard on their tender buds. Beskar-strong hips rocked against yours until you saw fireworks again, bearing down so hard on him with your orgasm that he sank his teeth into the crook of your shoulder. Bites made their way from where he had surely drawn blood on your flesh up your neck til they turned to kisses again. His brow pushed against your forehead, though your lips were right there he still defaulted to the only show of affection his armored inheritance allowed. Hot gasps of air puffed over your skin from the heat of his breath, and you knew he was close. You locked your legs around him, forcing him to pump every last drop of himself into you, painting your walls with his seed until it was spilling down your ass onto the piles of clothes.

The strength of his arms gave up, and he let himself fall against you, his face pushed against your cheek. You could feel his bristles brushing over your skin as his breath heaved, soft but scratchy. His hands wrapped under you and up your back, hugging you to his bare chest so hard the air was squeezed from your lungs. Fuzzy-lipped kisses dotted your cheeks and face, taking extra time to kiss your lips, each one a promise of more to come. You dragged your nails over his back, making him groan and shake at the touch. Never had anyone to scratch that itch, have you, tinman? Tight muscles loosened under your careful touch, making him sink harder onto you until you couldn’t tell where he ended and you began.

You wanted to stay there forever, but as the sweat on your bodies cooled it became sticky and made pulling yourselves apart a chore. Both of you reluctantly made your way off of the skiff, clinging to the walls of the cabin while he hunted for his helmet in the dark. Lights came on gradually once his bucket was back in place so you could find your own clothes, and when you had both gotten yourselves put back together you piled everything you had stolen onto the hoverskiff and pushed it back down the ramp of the Crest. The Mandalorian was back in his beskar, and he cocked his vambrace back and shot a wall of fire onto the little sled, incinerating all evidence of your thievery and passion. The bonfire burned brightly on the gravelly beach of the Cantonican ocean, sending flaming ash into the light of the new dawn.

You decided to keep the red pocket square that you had tucked in on his costume, though you weren't sure what you would need it for again. Sentimental. You went to the supply crates where your backpack and droid mask were kept so you could squirrel the thing away, when you caught the familiar glowing blue of spotchka at the bottom of the larder. The horrible color made you fucking nauseous after today, but even more distressing was that you realized it was just sitting there unsecured when there was an impish child onboard that could easily get into the bottled brew and make himself sick, or worse.

“Din, we need to put this somewhere safer.” You held the liquid lantern up for him to see what you were talking about. “What if our foundling gets into it? He might get really sick or-”

“Our?”

Shit. “Sorry, your foundling. Your foundling might get-” Din crossed the small space of the cabin until he was standing close to you, the child in question tucked against his chest. The baby’s big, nebulous eyes glittered up at you, and you couldn’t help reaching out to rub his sail-like ears. He chirped happily at your touch, and as much as you wanted to keep your eyes on him, his father was towering over you, making you squirm under his tilted glare.

“Say that again.”

“Your foundling.”

“No. The other word.”

“Our?”

“All of it.”

“Our foundling?” His helmet cocked to the other side, doing his big metal bird impression. The arm that wasn’t holding the child pulled you up against his chest, squeezed right against the baby in question. The familiar galaxy-erasing hug made you realize how many times you had thought of the child as your own, he was your little buddy, your missing baby when he had been stolen away, your secret weapon that you had hidden in your purse. But he wasn’t your child, he was Din’s, so for him to also be considered as yours…

“Ours.” Above you the word was spoken like it was new, as strange on his tongue as Mando’a was to you. “Our foundling. I like that.”

You couldn’t turn your head up to look at the man who had you wrapped against himself so tightly, but you could smile at the green little child that was flashing you his adorable toothy grin. You little fart, you thought with a laugh, you’re gonna make me go all soft. Almost as though the creature could hear your thoughts he squealed in delight, patting your cheeks with his fat baby paws. You let your arms circle around the boys that had made your life a roller coaster of emotion blasting through the endless sea of stars. It might be a hell of a ride, but you weren't ready to get off any time soon. The memory of the sands of Tatooine where you had been trying to forget the dangers of the universe was starting to fade away, replaced by the moment you were losing yourself in. You were happy to see it go, though your past self would be shocked at how comfortable you had gotten with a magic alien baby and a man with no face.

“Yeah… I like it too.” You hummed into the beskar, feeling Din’s arms tighten even more. You were glad he couldn’t see your face, because the lovely smile had vanished. This is all going to end soon. You buried your face in the tiny space between the foundling and his father’s armor, trying to ignore where the coaster’s rails ended. Only one stop left.

Nevarro, here we come.

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deafeninggardenerpanda · 3 years

Text

"Eheheheh ... hehehehe ... ahahahaha!" Magolor couldn’t stop laughing. "My plan was a huge success! I'm a genius!" Even when he looked behind him, there was no pursuer to be found. He stopped and looked up at the sky.

The skies of the Town of Wind were always hazy with smoke emitted from factories and steam locomotives, but in that smoky sky, there was a beautiful dream-like ship floating so high up it was invisible from the ground.

"Please wait, Lor ... " Magolor murmured. The Lor Starcutter, a mysterious ship made from ancient technology.

Although the truth was hazy due to various legends surrounding it, it was said that if the pilot’s heart was true, they could cross over to a different world.

But the Lor was broken. It could not move because some of its parts were missing. Magolor had long sought parts to move the Lor, but the ship was made from the power of an ancient civilization and thus could not be repaired with ordinary parts. It needed gears from that ancient civilization. Such precious items, how would someone obtain them?

Magolor, at a loss, heard a rumor. A millionaire in Diamond Town was secretly looking for someone who could read ancient characters. Apparently, an ancient machine had been found in the mines and was currently being investigated.

... Maybe, there would be parts for the Lor there.

Thinking so, Magolor rushed to Diamond Town. The ancient machine was more powerful than he had imagined. If he could find the extracted gears, his dream would surely come true. He would be able to move the ship of dreams, Lor. Thus, Magolor began to come up with a plan to gather the gears.

First, he needed to find their locations. Recalling a story that Kirby, an airplane pilot, had received the Star Compass, Magolor decided to use him. Once the locations were known, next, he had to choose someone who was likely to get the three gears. If Magolor left it to Kirby alone, he might gather the gears in the blink of an eye and deliver them to Mr. Fugo immediately, so he decided to split up the information between several people.

Magolor chose President Dedede, next. Although President Dedede had lost many times in a row to Kirby in the races, he still seemed to have good skill as an airplane pilot. He would be perfect for finding the gear on the clock tower.

And finally, there was Meta Knight in the Town of Light. It was unusual for an aristocrat to be so adventurous, so he should have an interest in the ancient machine.

Magolor’s operation was a great success. All three of them got the gears beautifully. He worried when Meta Knight had deciphered the description of the ancient machine, but in the end it wasn't a problem. No, that, in fact, was why everyone got together, and why the three gears aligned in the box he now held. It was rather convenient for him.

Now, all that had to be done was for the gears to be delivered to the Lor. If it took in the ancient power of the gears, the Lor would finally be able to wake from its long slumber and move again.

Before that, though, he had to first escape the town before he was found by his pursuers.

Magolor had started running again on the road leading to the town gate when several men suddenly appeared and blocked his path. He stopped quickly. The men dressed in black and wore matching badges. Fugo's subordinates, Magolor immediately knew. He winced. He couldn’t afford to let the gears he had be taken away. Somehow, he had to deceive and dodge them. Magolor waved one hand and laughed amiably.

"Wow, Mr. Fugo’s men! Did you all come to meet me~? I’m glad, thank you!"

" …………… "

The men were expressionless and silent. They gradually approached Magolor. Then, from behind the men, someone began to emerge—it was Mr. Fugo.

"There you are, Professor Magolor. Where are you going in such a hurry?" he said with a smile. Magolor looked at Mr. Fugo's face. That gentle smile ... he could not tell what Fugo was thinking.

(—I fooled you, are you aware ... Have you not noticed yet ... I wonder?)

Magolor did not know. Now, it was all or nothing. He mustered all of his might and spoke in a cute voice.

"Ah, Mr. Fugo! I got the gears! I was just about to deliver them to you ... " However, at that moment, a big net dropped from above and enveloped him immediately.

"WAHHH!?" Suspended by the net, Magolor was trapped.

"W-w-what are you doing!?"

Mr. Fugo gazed at the suspended Magolor with a cold smile. "I never trusted you from the beginning. I knew you were strange and kept an eye on you. After all, my eyes were right."

" …………… "

"Trying to escape with the gears. You have good courage, plenty, I’ll have you know. Now, hand them over."

Magolor looked up at the sky. The lie had been exposed from the beginning ... Mr. Fugo had been examining him too closely. It was too late, but—when Mr. Fugo's men tried to remove the net, a bright red sports car came rushing in at incredible speeds. It screeched to a halt. Mr. Fugo’s subordinates jumped out of the way.

Of course, the one driving the sports car was Meta Knight, and in the passenger’s seat was Daroach. Daroach jumped from the car and lifted Magolor up, still wrapped in the net.

"Oh, Mr. Fugo, he’s caught the guy before us. Thanks, that saves us a lot of trouble." Daroach threw Magolor into the back seat of the car and jumped back into the passenger seat.

"See you!" The car tried to start suddenly, but Mr. Fugo came back to his senses.

"Oh, you guys! Don’t be ridiculous! Take the gears!" he shouted. Mr. Fugo’s subordinates quickly surrounded the car. One person threw knives at the car’s tires. They were flattened instantly. Meta Knight raised his voice in anger.

"What are you doing! What if you scratch my car! And my tires! Those were custom-made products that had intensive research put into them to produce the fastest speed in the world!"

"Hey, hey. This isn’t the place to get angry," Daroach said. "Fugo's minions are vicious. We need to take them seriously!" The men in black suddenly attacked. Daroach swiftly put on his top hat and cloak, then grabbed his cane.

"Silk, red top hat and cloak ... You! You're the thief who snuck into my mansion and stole the material on the ancient machine ...! " Mr. Fugo shouted.

"I’m not just any thief. I am the great thief, Daroach! Remember it!" Daroach brandished his cane. A fierce cold wind and a wave of ice were expelled from its tip. Mr. Fugo's subordinates faltered, but they weren’t going to stand around to get done in.

"Don't flinch! There are only two thieves!"

"Catch them!" They attacked, yelling. One of the men jumped from behind Daroach. Meta Knight quickly picked up the rose in his chest pocket and threw it.

"Augh!" The rose hit the enemy's hand. He winced and stepped back.

Daroach sighed in relief. "I was saved. That rose, isn’t it just a decoration!?" he shouted.

"It's not a decoration. It's a gentleman's grace." Then, Meta Knight pulled out the feathers attached to his top hat and threw them.

"Ugh!" Weapons fell from the enemy's hands. Daroach whistled.

"You're the best! You should scout for the Squeak Squad!" However, the number of enemies became overwhelming. Like the heads of a hydra—even when you defeated one, it was as if two more took their place. They came one after another. The tires of the car had been flattened; they could not leave. The pair were gradually cornered and began to be put at the disadvantage.

"This is bad ... at this rate ...! " It was when Daroach yelled out—there was a roaring sound and a strong wind blew. Daroach, Meta Knight, and Mr. Fugo's men were all staggered by the intense gale. Flying overhead was the Warp Star!

"Kirby!" Meta Knight shouted.

"Have you finally caught up? It's about time!" Daroach said, relieved. Then, the roaring sound was heard again. As if chasing Kirby, the Great King DDD XX appeared. The two planes diverted to the square nearby. Kirby and Waddle Dee jumped from the Warp Star, and President Dedede jumped from the Great King DDD XX.

"Daroach! Have you caught Magolor!?" President Dedede asked.

"Not quite," Daroach loudly replied. "As you see, we could use some help!"

"What!?" President Dedede glared at Mr. Fugo's subordinates. "They won’t take the gears! I’ll fight alongside you!" In the hands of the president was an oversized hammer; a weapon that was loaded onto his plane in case of an emergency.

"TAKE THIS—!" President Dedede swung the hammer. The men in black were blown away all at once. "Wahaha! Did you know my true capability!?"

"You bastard!" New subordinates rushed in without delay. They drew their weapons.

"I won't let you do that!" Kirby shouted. He spread both hands and took a deep breath. Kirby’s forte, Inhale!

"Aughhhh!" The men’s weapons were sucked into Kirby's mouth one after another. The odds turned in their favor!

"W-what are these guys!"

"Too strong ...! " The subordinates paled and stepped back. President Dedede turned and laughed out loud.

"Wahaha! Weak, weak! You are no match for this President Dedede!" He swung his hammer around and bashed away the enemies in front of him. It was then—

"WAHHHHH! HELP ME ..! " a scream resounded. Waddle Dee.

Waddle Dee, hidden behind an airplane, was found by the enemy. A man in black held him up with one hand.

"Look! I've caught your companion!" he shouted in an unfeeling voice. Kirby froze.

"Waddle Dee ...! What are you going to do, you ...! " President Dedede shouted.

"I’m sorry, President ... " Waddle Dee shook as he was gripped by the enemy.

"Stop! Let Waddle Dee go!" Kirby said, but the enemy was unresponsive. Waddle Dee shut his eyes tightly. Mr. Fugo stepped forward with satisfaction.

"—It seems the game has come to an end."

Kirby and the others glared at him, but there was nothing they could do. Waddle Dee had been taken hostage. "Drop your weapons," he said with a smile.

The group looked at each other.

"I told you to drop them, didn't you hear? Then, this will be painful." Mr. Fugo gave a signal to the subordinate holding Waddle Dee.

"STOP!" It was Kirby who shouted. He raised his hands. "We lost. Please, release Waddle Dee!" he said.

"Kirby, you ...! " Meta Knight tried to stop him, but President Dedede dropped his hammer and spoke.

"Your weapons ... drop them. Meta Knight, Daroach."

"What did you say!?"

"I'm sorry. This is all because of my stupid subordinate ... " President Dedede hung his head. Kirby was shocked. He had never seen the president like this before.

"You’re going to surrender? You're just going to give him the gears!?" Daroach said, frustrated.

" ... Yeah ... I am ... " President Dedede said in a weak voice. "Waddle Dee, we can’t abandon him ... "

"President Dedede!"

" ... I’m sorry! Please!" He couldn’t raise his face. Seeing that, Meta Knight put his red rose back into his chest pocket. Daroach sighed and dropped his cane on the ground as well. Mr. Fugo’s eyes shone.

"Good! Then, let's get the gears!" His subordinates walked over to Magolor and removed the net. Magolor could not resist. Mr. Fugo was then handed the box containing the three gears. He checked the contents and burst into laughter. "Alright! I’ve got them! Now, the ancient machine is at my disposal!"

A black luxury car pulled up. Fugo got in and began giving out orders.

"To the mine! Head to the discovery site of the ancient machine! Take the hostage, too." He looked to his subordinate who held Waddle Dee. He nodded, and got into the car with him in hand.

"Release Waddle Dee!" Kirby said.

"I’ll release him once the ancient machine is activated. Until then, he’s coming with me."

"That’s ... so underhanded!"

"Mmhmhmhm ... " Mr. Fugo then ordered the driver to start the car.

"I'll chase you!" President Dedede yelled. He jumped into his plane. Daroach quickly followed him.

"Give me a ride, President. Meta Knight’s car had its tires punctured."

"Alright, get in." The Great King DDD XX carried the two and soared high into the sky. "By the way, Daroach. What’s with that outfit?" President Dedede asked as he watched Mr. Fugo's car traveling below.

"Hm?"

"That red, silk top hat and cloak—I’ve never seen it before. What happened? Is it to match with Meta Knight?" President Dedede didn't know what Daroach was yet. Daroach put a hand on his hat and laughed.

"Well, I just wanted a bit of a change. When all this is over, I'll return to my café manager self."

" ... Hmm. I don’t really get it," President Dedede said and shook his head.

At the same time, Meta Knight and Magolor were on board Kirby's Warp Star.

"Thank you, Meta Knight. For putting down your weapon for Waddle Dee," Kirby said as he flew the plane.

"In that situation, I wouldn’t have done anything else. And, Kirby—"

"It’s okay, Kirby!"

"Kirby. Is there a strategy?"

"Huh? Strategy?"

"’I feel like if we get the gears, there will be some kind of big change.’ That’s what you were thinking, right?"

"Ehh!?" Kirby was surprised. "Amazing! How did you know what I was thinking, Meta Knight?"

"I wonder how, too. With you, I don't feel like this is the first time we’ve met."

"Really? I do too. It's mysterious."

"Me too!" Magolor, sitting alongside Meta Knight in the back seat, shouted. "Kirby and Meta Knight, it’s as if you’re old friends. Strange!"

" ... And you ... " Meta Knight looked disgusted. He tried to say something, but Magolor quickly continued.

"I pretended to trick you and run away with the gears to lure Fugo, and hey! It worked! "

" ... Lies."

"It’s not a lie. I put on that act because I wanted to help everyone." But Meta Knight didn't seem to trust him at all. He turned away from Magolor and looked up at the sky.

"Airplanes are much faster than cars. They’re quite good ... Maybe I'll buy some ... " he murmured.

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#kirby #meta knight #king dedede #waddle dee #magolor #daroach #millionaire fugo #Kirby: Search for the Dreamy Gears!#kirby light novel #translations

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dracofeltonmalfoy · 4 years

Text

Cute Babies

Pairing: Draco x Y/N

Warnings: Swearing, mention of deaths, angst and fluff

Word Count: 5266

A/N: Baldy, no nose voldy doesn’t exist, Snape has a niece and his father is in this story. Also Lucius is nice.

This was a request, @bbeauttyybbx hope you like it hun! xxx

“Malfoy, if you DO NOT move out of my way, I will kick you in your groin like I did exactly 2 months ago and poor old Parkinson as well as the 6 other girls you were entertaining at the time were not able to get their sexual satisfaction from you and you weren’t able to piss without your dick hurting, so Mr Malfoy if you don’t want that to happen again I suggest you MOVE!” She screamed in Draco’s face. For a 5’2 girl who looks very angelic with her Y/H/L Y/H/C hair and shiny Y/E/C eyes, she sure was intimidating when she was angry, but the only person who found her anger very amusing and a form of entertainment was the platinum haired, 5’9, grey eyed boy, Draco Malfoy.

“Y/L/N, let's not make that mistake again, hmm? You know very well you only did that because you were jealous you weren’t in their place and to be very honest with you, you...will...never be. Just look at yourself, no fashion sense, so short and have been with every boy our age in slytherin. Do you think I’d really go for a girl like you?” Draco whispered in her ear, this was enough for Y/N to, once again, knee him, but before she could he grabbed her wrist and spun her around so her back was now against his chest and her arm twisted behind her. “No, darling. Don’t you dare try that again.”

“Malfoy, let me go or I swear I will hex you.”

“Try,”

“Malfoy, I’m going to say it again, let me go.”

“Hmmm, I’ll let you go, but only if you do one thing.”

“Oh hell no, I am not doing anything for you Malfoy, we can stand her for as long as you want then and be late to potions, but I am not doing anything you tell me too. And anyways, Snape loves me more than you, he is my mother’s brother after all.”

“Your wish is my command Y/L/N.” Draco’s grip on Y/N’s arm was getting tighter and tighter and Y/N knew she was going to have a print of his fingers on her arm, but there was no way she was going to tell him that he was hurting her. “Come on Y/L/N, it’s obvious you’re hurting, why don’t you listen to the deal.” She stood there quietly, giving no response, resulting in Draco tightening his grip even more, but this time using his free hand to grab her chin and turning it sideways so he could see her face. “Dump Zabini.” he breathed out

“Are you having a laugh Malfoy? Why would I dump my boyfriend because you told me to, not to mention my boyfriend of 2 years?”

“You answered your own question darling, because I told you to. And i’ll tell ya something else, right now, this very second Zabini is shagging your best friend in the broom cupboard.” after saying that the platinum haired boy let her out of his grip.

“Oh you’ve crossed the line Malfoy, you have crossed the fucking line.”

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me, let’s go to potions and see where your beloved boyfriend and best friend are shall we?”

“Go suck a dick, you git!”

Y/N ran to potions, her heart pounding and her head spinning. She stopped outside her class to see that Malfoy was right, both Blaise and Pansy were missing. “Told you so.” Malfoy whispered in her ear before entering the class.

“Mr Malfoy…oh and Y/N, why are you two so late?” Snape asked firmly, but before any more words were spoken, Y/N ran to the broom cupboard. Breathless, she whipped the door open to see her boyfriend, ex-boyfriend and best friend, ex-best friend all over each other.

“My grandfather will definitely be hearing about this, but for now MY UNCLE WILL HEAR ABOUT THIS! YOU FILTHY LITTLE PEASANTS! HOW FUCKING DARE YOU TWO? HOW DARE YOU DECEIVE ME? ME?!?! Y/N Y/L/N? ONE MINUTE, IT WILL TAKE ME LESS THAN A MINUTE TO FUCK YOUR LIVES UP!” Y/N screamed, her eyes fogging up, but she didn’t dare let a tear fall.

“Babe, babe it's not what you think it is I…”

“Oh sod off, you didn’t deserve me anyways, my papa was right, I should’ve gone for some with the same standards as me. He was right, you were only with me for the money!” She screamed, trying not to break down in front of them. “You look like you're about to shit yourself sweetheart, don't worry i’ll just think all the money I spent on you was charity.” And with that she stormed off to go to potions, leaving Zabini and Parkinson dreading what might happen next.

“Uncle?” Y/N whispered, her head down, trying hard not to let the class know she was crying.

“Y/N? Where did you go?” Snape questioned, looking at his deceased sister’s last memento.

“Can I please talk to you?”

“We are in a…”

“Now?” she looked up a bit and Snape saw her puffy eyes, but at the same time someone else did as well. He quickly gave the class some work to do, grabbed Y/N and left the class.

Draco sat at his desk, observing everything that happened. He should've been happy, he was happy, until he saw her puffy eyes, her red eyes, eyes filled with tears and pain. The girl, who never cried, the girl who didn’t even cry when her parents were killed, the girl who only spread happiness and joy was crying. Y/N told her uncle everything and to say her uncle was more relieved than angry was an understatement. “Y/N, they will be punished, I promise you, but I am extremely happy right now that the facade ended. You deserve someone who is as wealthy as you, someone who me and your papa think is reliable and we have chosen the someone for you.”

“You have?”

“Yes, after you have graduated this year we will be visiting your future in-laws, it was your mother’s wish to get you married straight after you graduated. I will not tell you who it is, but you will be happy with this decision and one more thing focus on your N.E.W.T.S, not on that stupid boy, go to your dorm now.” Snape finished and showed a rare sign of affection by kissing the top of the heartbroken girl’s head.

Summer Holidays

Y/N, her papa and Snape were standing outside Malfoy Manor. Y/N was shocked, extremely shocked, her jaw was practically touching the floor. “Papa?” “Yes, my angel.” “THE Malfoys?” “Yes, my angel.” “THE Malfoys?” “I thought we already answered that question, but yes my angel.” “Papa, nooooooooo, pwease, pwease, pwease, pwease, pwease, pweaseeeeeee.” Y/N begged, with the cutest, most innocent puppy eyes and sad face. “No, father. No! Do not look at her and do not apparate back.” Snape said, receiving a glare from Y/N. “Angel, I don’t know how long i’m going to live and this is the last of your parents’ last wishes, please try to understand and not put up a fuss.” Y/N’s grandfather told her, he knew these words would melt Y/N a tiny bit and she would agree. “Fine, but please don’t talk about death, I don’t want to lose you two as well, you are the only good things I have left.” And with that said a house elf appeared and escorted them inside the manor.

Y/N was wearing a long red silk dress that showed off her curves, her hair braided like a crown at the top and the rest of her hair curled and down. She looked breathtaking. “Good afternoon, it’s lovely seeing you here Mr Snape, Severus and Miss Y/L/N.” a voice called, it was Lucius Malfoy. “Good afternoon son, good afternoon Narcissa, where is the young Malfoy?” Y/N’s papa questioned and Y/N tried her hardest not to roll her eyes at his name. “He’ll be down by the time we have settled down in the dining room.” Narcissa replied sweetly, she was Y/N’s favourite Malfoy, sweet and kind, she sometimes reminded her of her own mother.

When they entered the dining room, Draco was standing there waiting for them. The two teens made very awkward eye contact, to say the least, and Y/N could’ve sworn she saw Draco blush.

Draco’s POV

Fucking hell she looks amazing. What the hell? You hate her, you hate her, you hate her, well you don’t hate her, you dislike her. Right? Repeat the mantra Draco, you dislike her, you dislike her, you.. “Draco darling, come sit down. We all know Y/N looks beautiful tonight, no need to make her feel awkward.” Mother teased. Shit! Was I staring for that long? I took a seat in front of Y/N, which was probably the worst decision i’ve made tonight, and “So, should we talk about the wedding now or after dinner?” Father asked. “I think after dinner is perfect, an old man needs to fill his stomach up before making big decisions.” Y/N’s grandfather laughed and Y/N smiled and shook her head. Merlin, she looked angelic.

During dinner I think I looked at her about 50 times, very slyly, obviously. Me, the Slytherin Prince, being sly, as easy as pie. “Do I have something on my face?” Shit, she’s caught me. “Huh? I mean pardon?” “Do...I...have...something...on...my...face?” “You didn’t have to say it like I have a hearing problem! I can hear very well thanks!” “Well, you were the one who said ‘huh, pardon?’ not me! SO I thought maybe you’ve developed a hearing problem of some sort. Also, I asked you a question so stop avoiding it!” “Who said I was avoiding your silly question? To answer your question Y/L...Y/N, yes there is! Your nose, your eyes, your lips, your eyebrows, there's a lot on your face!” “Have you never…why are you guys laughing?” Y/N asked the elders around us “Oh nothing dear, how wonderful! Young love! What a beauty!” mother answered. “Young WHAT?” Both of us questioned, together! “Young love children, it always starts off with some teasing and bickering. You two already sound like a married couple!”

“Draco, please give Y/N the wonderful, wonderful, gift you have selected for her.” “Yes, mother. Y/N, here, this is for you.” I handed her a velvet box that had a green emerald pendant in it, mother had chosen it, because I didn’t know about this arrangement until yesterday night and I expect Y/N didn’t as well. “Thanks, um…” “Here angel give this to Draco. Son, Y/N selected this for you, with a lot of love.” “I did? I did, yeh I did! Um...here you go, hope you like it haha.” Ok she definitely didn’t pick it and she definitely didn’t know about this arrangement either. I opened the box to see a snake ring, not that I needed anymore, but I still liked it. “Thank you, I do like it.”

“Draco, son, why don’t you and Y/N go for a walk, we’ll call you when dessert is ready?” Mother offered, well basically told me, I nodded my head and waited for Y/N to stand up. I walked out and she was behind me, walking so slowly. We got to the garden and I turned around to see Y/N missing. “Y/N? Y/N? For Salazar’s sake Y/N are you that dumb you can’t follow a 5’9 guy properly? Y/N!” I yelled and to my surprise she was knelt down in front of the roses, looking at them in awe, like they were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. “I was shouting your name Y/L/N, you could’ve at least told me you’re here!” “Oh, you were? The thing is, the two words you call me are midget or Y/L/N, so I couldn’t hear my first name from your pretty mouth.” “Pretty mouth? You think I have a pretty mouth? Well you will be thrilled to know that after marriage this pretty mouth will be all yours!” I smirked, but internally cursing myself for being such an idiotic flirt, that was such a stupid pick up line, if you would even call it a pick up line.

“Thank you.” she said softly. “Thank you? I should say thank you, you complimented..” “No, you git! Thank you for telling me about Bla...those two.” She looked down towards her feet. “Y/N/N, um, Y/N, shit um, Y/L/N, I…it’s um...you don’t need to thank me. I...um...I…” “So first you call me by my first name, then you call me by my nickname and now you stutter as well? Any other surprises Draco?” DRACO! SHE CALLED ME DRACO! I SWEAR MY HEART DID 5 SOMERSAULTS IN 2 SECONDS! Her saying my first name was so damn cute. “I’m sorry.” “Oh for fucks sake another surprise! THE Draco Malfoy apologizing, now that really is a surprise!” She laughed anndddddd there we go again my heart flipping over and over again. “But honestly, jokes apart, why are you saying sorry?” “Because I made you cry that day.” “Not the first time.” “Oh, wait, I've made you cry before?” “Mhm, but forget that…” “No, no, no forgetting, please tell me.” “Anddddd another surprise. Draco, are you sure you’re not drunk?” “No, I'm not.” I grabbed her hand and led her to the bench near us and sat down, patting the place next to me telling her to sit down. To my surprise, she actually did. “Do you remember in first year I was wearing an old rusty watch?” “Yes?” “And you made fun of me for having all the money in the world, but wearing a rusty old watch like a mudbl...that word. That was my late mother’s watch, it was the first present my father got her when they got married, with his own money, not his inheritance. And it was thrown in the bin, because it wasn’t slytherin enough” Oh shit. “Then when you broke my quill?” “I didn’t Goyle did.” “You stood there and laughed, you stood there and encouraged him. That was my late father’s lucky quill and he gave it to me before he died and said my lucky charm gets my lucky quill, I don’t need this when I have you with me.” I was such a prick. “Then when…” “I...I can't hear anymore Y/N, I am sorry, I really am sorry.”

I look up to see tears rolling down her cheeks. I made her cry again. “Y/N/N I am so sorry, please, please don’t cry. Please love please. Please don’t cry.” I moved forward so I was sitting right next to her. Hesitantly, I brought her into my chest and wrapped my arms around her, one arm resting on the back of her head and one on her back. “Sshh, sshh it’s fine, it’ll all be ok, i’m so sorry, so so sorry. I am a fuck up, a big fuck up.” I moved my hands to each side of her cheek, wiping away the tears with my thumbs. “Do you know why I was a dick to you? It won’t really justify what I did, but it is something. I don’t know how to handle feelings Y/N, I show the same emotions to people I love, people I hate, people I like and people I dislike. The only person I’m not like that with is my mother. When I first saw you, I practically died there and then, I didn’t know how someone could look so beautiful, then after Christmas when I heard your parents passed away, I thought you’d be broken, but no, you were still smiling, giggling, enjoying yourself and to be honest I was jealous. How could someone be so strong. Then you got your first boyfriend, who wasn’t me, that killed me. Then you broke up after 2 years and he hurt you, so I hurt him and he broke both his arms during a quidditch game, even though we were in the same team and Ravenclaw got the blame. Then literally 6 months later you and Zabini got into a relationship, even though he knew I had feelings for you. If I really hated you Y/N, I would’ve stayed quiet about the fact that Zabini was cheating on you with Pansy. I kept trying to tell myself that I hate you, I dislike you, but everytime I see that smile of yours I can’t stop. Y/N/N, I’ve liked you since first year and I know it’s hard to believe, but I have.” Woah, okay I got that out of the way, but why wasn’t she replying?

Her mouth was wide open, eyes practically popping out of her head and she was frozen, I swear for a minute I thought someone had frozen her. “Can you please reply? I’m kinda shitting myself here.” Why did I say that? I mentally facepalmed myself. “What the fuck Draco? What the actual fuck? You can’t just be a dick for 7 years then say you love, well like me and then expect me to answer within 2 minutes of you saying that! I need time to actually let my brain function and understand what just happened!” “Um, ha, yeh, um...take as much time as…” “Oh, I will, thank you very much!” “Actually, um...could you kinda hurry up, because your silence and glare are kinda scaring me.” “Mhm.” “Mhm?” “Mhm” “Mhm?” “Mhm” “Mhm?” M FUCKING HM! NOW SHUT UP!” “I...sorry.” She looks so cute when she’s angry, wow. It started to rain ever so slightly, but looking up at the sky, it was obvious it was going to be pouring with rain very soon.

“I can’t believe it took you 7 years to say that you git! You are cute and tall and you have really nice eyes and you are quite handsome. We would have cute babies.” She started talking and I choked on my own spit. “Did I interrupt you when you were talking?” “No, sorry.” I cleared my throat. “I did have a little, now don’t suddenly have an ego boost, right where was I? Yeh! I did have a little crush on you, since we became potions partners, even though you were the world’s biggest prick. KEYWORD Malfoy, were! What I’m tryna get at here is, maybe, well yeah I like you too, but because both of us are, KEYWORDS AGAIN Draco, ARE AND WE, um where was I again? Yeh. We are so stubborn we didn’t tell each other that. Ok so what i’m gonna say is big, but don’t freak out, but I think the decision for us to get married was the right decision, but wrong time, but now I feel like it’s the right decision right…”I cut her off by cupping her cheeks and kissing her, she was shocked at first, but then our lips were moving in sync and that’s when I realised what I had done. Once again mentally facepalming myself during the kiss. Merlin, she was hard to resist, she’s adorable.

As I had expected it was pouring with rain and honestly, I just wanted time to stop, Y/N with me, it’s pouring with rain, how romantic! Oh if she heard me she’d think I’m so cringey. I pulled away and “Um sorry, I interrupted you again.” “This is the one interruption I don’t mind.” she said laughing and I could feel my face heating up and going red. This time, she pulled me in to kiss, her soft hands going around and wrapping around my neck and my hands resting on her waist. But obviously I couldn’t have a good moment without being interrupted. “Papaaaaa, THE Malfoys? THE Malfoys? Papaaaa noooooooo, pwease, pwease, pwease, pwease, pweaseeeeeeee. You two are the only good things I have lefttttttt. Angel, you said these words, not even 2 hours ago.” “Papa? Um, I, you always say you’re right and you’ll always make good decisions for me, so um I was just checking if the decision is really good or not.” Y/N laughed awkwardly, realised what she said and, “No, I meant, we were, um I don’t know, Draco?” “Oh um, Sir, we were getting to know each othe...ouch!” Y/N stepped on my foot and I realised what I had just said, we were stuck in a messy situation. “Oh kids, you youngsters say you understand jokes, but looking at your flustered states I don’t think you do.” Mr Snape laughed and we awkwardly laughed with him. “Once you’ve finished what you’ve started, come down and have dessert, just make sure Severus doesn’t see you two or he’ll probably hex you son.” “Papppppaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” “See you in the dining room angel” And with that Y/N’s papa walked off laughing.

“One good thing Malfoy, one damn good thing was happening and you fuck up again!” “Fuck up, excuse you, but I didn’t invite your papa to walk into us snogging did I?” “Well, you could’ve, I don’t know, been more alert of the situation, kept your eyes open, looking out for people!” “Oh wow, so you expect me to keep my eyes open mid make out to look out for people. Darling, don’t you think that’s a bit creepy?” “No, well, yes, but no, but yes. Oh for fucks sake Draco! You’re so annoying!” Y/N starts walking stomping away. “Hey, we haven’t finished what we started!” “Sod off Malfoy, go finish it off with Parkinson!” Parkinson? Where did she come from? “OI! Come back!” I yelled, grabbing her wrist and pulling her into me before slamming my lips onto hers. Breathless, I reluctantly pull back, “Finish what we started off remember? Now, where were we again?” And we did finish off what we started, the only problem was that we didn’t want it to finish and we had to finish it so someone else (Severus Snape) didn't walk in on us making out. I quickly said a drying spell and we went back to the dining room.

Reader’s POV

“Welcome back children. Hope you enjoyed your time together.” Narcissa greeted the two, “Your wedding has been scheduled to be next month, 9th to be exact. Y/N as I am sure Severus and your grandfather have no idea how to shop for wedding dresses, Narcissa will take you.” “Yes, Sir, that’s perfectly fine.” “Oh please don’t call me Sir, you can call me father.” “Thank you.” “Tomorrow you and Draco will go out for lunch, I have booked you two a table. It is at 1:30 exactly, please do not be late.” “Um, I will be there, thank you.” “No need to say thank you dear.”

The Next Day

1:30 went to 1:40 to 1:50 to 2:00 to 2:30, but there was no sign of the young Malfoy and Y/N was getting very, very annoyed. “I’m leaving!” Y/N mumbled. “Y/N! Wait up!” Malfoy yelled, extremely out of breath. “WHAT TIME DO YOU CALL THIS? I HAVE BEEN WAITING HERE FOR AN HOUR DRA...MALFOY AND YOU ARE LATE! ENJOY THIS LUNCH BY YOURSELF, BECAUSE I AM NO LONGER INTERESTED! TAKE WHOEVER HELD YOU UP TO THIS LUNCH! I AM NOT HUNGRY!” and with that Y/N apparated back to her home. “Great, now what do I do?” Draco asked himself, rubbing the back of his neck.

“That git…” “Language.” “That boy was 1 hour late papa! I hate people who aren’t punctual! I can’t trust him, what if he’s late to our wedding?” “So you’re already thinking about your wedding?” “No...I…” “Go freshen up sweetheart. You seem tired” “Ok papa.”

WHOOSH! “What the..” “Hey!” Malfoy said. “Malfoy, before just apparating into someone's bedroom you should really apparate outside and knock first! As you can see I am currently wrapped in only a towel and I do not appreciate you turning up like this! You either turn up late or turn up without warning!” Y/N yelled, “Well I was late and you left, so I decided I’ll surprise you and turn up at your home” and to tease her more the platinum haired boy walked closer and closer, until Y/N’s knees hit the bed and she fell backwards. Draco leaned over her and whispered “You said something about us having cute babies yesterday, wouldn’t mind trying that out.” He stood back up and turned around, “I’ll wait for you downstairs, I have a little surprise for you.” And with that he left, leaving a very flustered Y/N laying on her bed, blushing like a maniac.

“Angel, look who’s here!” Y/N’s papa pointed towards Draco and Draco greeting her like he hadn’t just seen her half naked and left her extremely flustered 15 minutes ago. “What a very pleasant surprise!” Y/N greeted, very sarcastically. “Sir..” “Call me papa” “Papa, if I have your permission, could I take your angel somewhere today. Even though we were in the same school, same house, same year, we don’t know much about each other. I’d like to spend the day getting to know her.”

“Getting to know her? Like yesterday?” “PAPAAAAAA!” “I’m just joking angel.” “Son, come here quickly.” “Yes papa?” “Please do use protection if you get that far.” Mr Snape whispered in Draco’s ear, this time leaving Draco flustered, but Y/N overheard “PAPAAAA! OMG! DRACO GO OUTSIDE I’LL COME IN A MINUTE!” “Oh angel, look how red you have gotten, but please be safe.” “BYE PAPA!” “Bye angel.”

“You want babies, but papa wants us to use protection, pray tell me how that works?” “DRACOOOOOO!” “I haven’t even done anything and you’re already screaming my name.” “I will strangle you!” “Kinky.” “MALFOYYYY.” “Draco sounds better.” “That’s it, go where you wanna go alone, I’m not going with you.” “But I need you to have babies, I can’t have babies by myself, even though they would be perfect.” “DRACO! I AM GOING BACK HOME! AGAIN! ENJOY!” “Final decision?” “YUP!” Draco picked Y/N up bridal style, “PUT ME DOWNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!” “The more you cooperate the quicker we get there sweetheart.” and led her to a very posh restaurant, different to the one from lunch, putting her down when they were at the door. They enter, have a lovely meal, get to know each other more (with words and quite a lot of kissing, let’s say more kissing than words) and when they had finished eating, Draco grabbed Y/N’s hand and said “Y/N, I know I've been a dick to you and I know I don’t deserve you. You are so beautiful, so adorable and yes we would have the cutest babies, mainly because of you and in order for that to happen you have to become Mrs Malfoy,” He got down on one knee and finished it off “Will you do the honour of marrying me, completing me and helping me become better? Will you Miss Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N marry me?” Y/N was in tears, she was an emotional wreck and to make it worse Draco stood up and before putting a ring on her finger, handed her two things, a watch that was EXACTLY like her mother’s and a quill that was EXACTLY like her father’s lucky quill.

“Dray…” she whispered, knowing if she spoke any louder she'd be sobbing. “I had to, we do need your parents' blessing as well and I didn’t want to feel guilty about the mistakes I made in the past and then look at you everytime and be reminded of all the times I made you cry and...this was the reason I was late earlier as well, I’m sorry my love. ” “YOU GIT! CAN YOU EVER DO ANYTHING WITHOUT MAKING ME CRYYYYYYYY?” “Hmmmmm, would making babies make you cry?” “DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY!” “Hey, I don’t wanna hear my father’s name being screamed in the process.” “DRACOOOO!” “That’s better, but we haven’t even started, Merlin, you wouldn’t last 10 minutes.” He chuckled, earning a big slap on the chest from Y/N. “You haven’t answered my question. Will you marry me?” “Do I have a choice? I do want cute babies.” “So, yes?” “Yes!” He slid the Malfoy ring on her finger and they shared a passionate, loving kiss, both melting into each other. “Do you want me to keep my eyes open?” Draco teased. “Draco, if you want me to kiss you then you need to shut up before you lose the privilege to be kissed.” “Mhm, mhm. You wouldn’t want that though.” “Just kiss me you sap” and before they could deepen the kiss, “I hope you remember my advice son!” Y/N’s grandfather yelled from outside the window. “PAPAAAAAAAAAA!” “How does he turn up every time I’m kissing you?” “If I knew don’t you think I’d make sure it doesn’t happen again? Draco use your brain for once.” the two lovers chuckled

Marriage Day

“Are you ready angel?” “I think I am papa.” “Then let’s go, they’re waiting for us.” The doors opened and all eyes were on Y/N, she looked stunning and Draco could not get his eyes off of her. “Holy shit,” he mumbled, earning a nudge from his father. The vows are said and they were pronounced husband and wife, Mr and Mrs Malfoy, finishing it off with a sweet kiss. Y/N’s grandfather goes up to the newly wedded couple and whispers “Remember the advice I gave you last month? Don’t use that today.” “papaaa,” Y/N whispered, her papa leaving the two of them blushing and shaking their heads while he went and sat down. “Well at least we now know when we can start making cute babies.” Draco whispered “You’re such an idiot.” “I’m your idiot,” “Sap” “Only for you.”

Quite some time later

“Daddy?” “Yes Angel?” “Me and Shcorp have a question.” “Go ahead.” “Shcorp you ask.” “Daddy?” “Yes Scorpius?” “Did you and mummy have an argument last night?” “No sweetheart we didn't, why'd you ask?” Y/N asked, giving the twins milkshakes, Draco his coffee and sitting down next to him drinking her own coffee. Draco wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her closer to him and then gave her a confused look and she shrugged her shoulders in response. “Because we heard mummy shout your name quite a few times last night.” “JDCIFDOIACODJNAOVCD” Y/N and Draco both choked on their coffees, red in the face and extremely embarrassed, both coughing their lungs out staring at each other not knowing what to do or say. “My lovely children, have you heard of the term making cute babies?” Y/N’s papa came in and asked. The innocent children shaking their heads and their poor parents growing redder and redder. “Well, that’s what was happening.” the old man laughed. “PAPAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” Draco and Y/N shouted, very very embarrassed. To hide her embarrassment she hid her face in Draco’s chest. “So you were making cute babies? WE WANT TO MAKE CUTE BABIES!” “SCORP! ANGEL! NO!” the embarrassed couple yelled, “Children let your parents do that job.” “PAPPPPAAAAAAAAAA!”

Y/N was right when she said they’d make cute babies, because the two kids sitting in front of them were the cutest and most beautiful kids anyone had seen.

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#draco #draco fanfiction #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x reader #draco x y/n #harry potter #hogwarts #draco malfoy

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

Text

Mistakenly Saving the Villain - Chapter 3

Original Title: 论救错反派的下场

Genres: Drama, Romance, Xianxia, Yaoi

TW for this chapter: Mentions of slave trafficking

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter 3 - Born Without Tears

The red-dressed beauty lightly opened his vermilion lips and blew into the jade flute. The flute sound was full of lingering affection, softly touching his heart, as if he was inviting all listeners to join the red curtain and share the scenery together.

Song Qingshi's mother was an internationally renowned pianist. Because of her influence, music had become Song Qingshi's only hobby outside of school. In the last days of Song Qingshi's life, he had lost all body functions, but his consciousness was extremely clear.

His mother invested heavily in installing top-notch audio equipment in his room to play music everyday. She also asked top musicians in various fields to give him a small concert every day.

Music rescued him from the brink of despair and soothed his heart. During this special time, Song Qingshi was particularly sensitive to the emotions in music. He could hear the player's tenderness in the passionate piano music, and he could also find hidden encouragement in the sad and solemn guzheng music. . .

Now, he heard the familiar struggle and despair in the lingering and affectionate sound of the flute.

Song Qingshi finally raised his head, staring at the brilliant phoenix in a daze. He could no longer look away.

Jin FeiRen found out that Song Qing finally became interested in one of the beauties, and he was overjoyed: "Song Xianzun is interested in this slave? His name is Yue Wuhuan, naturally charming, a rare wood single-spirit root. That means he's much more resistant when tossing him around in bed. The more you rough him up, the more unhinged he comes. Those who have tried it have never failed to boast about it. Do you want to taste him first?"

Song Qingshi's ears were reddened by his explicit recommendation. He quickly turned his eyes away, and said dumbly: "No need."

"Medicine Master Xianzun is clean and does not engage in those activities. If you don't love these things, don't force him, friend." LingBao Xianzun came over, pointing to Yue Wuhuan and exclaimed, "If I remember, was this the best product sold by Xie Que? This immortal world is still the best place for him to raise beautiful people; one is more tasteful than the last. Alas, I have a friend who is his good friend, and all kinds of better goods will be sold to you first."

Jin FeiRen waved his hand and said, "You flatter me. What he really has a good relationship with are thirty hu of mermaid pearls."

LingBao Xianzun laughed: "If all friendships in the world could be created with money, my friend would be surrounded by the most affectionate people in the world. Come, come, let me have three cups with my friend and celebrate the wind and moon together.

Jin FeiRen also laughed, and ordered the young man in his arms to fill a glass of wine and drink with LingBao Xianzun.

LingBao Xianzun had already drunk a lot. He was slightly drunk. He leaned against the table and listened to the flute. He exclaimed: "I remember that when this beauty first entered this place, he was reluctant to accompany guests, even under the control of Acacia Seal. It was very interesting to see, but now he has become so promiscuous, and his flavour has changed. You have great methods, my friend."

Jin FeiRen shook his head: "It's a pity that this beauty doesn't cry no matter how rough you toss him around. He was born without tears, and because of that, some of his appeal has been lost."

Song Qingshi heard the professional question and couldn't help answering: "Being born without tears may be a problem with the lacrimal secretion system."

Jin Fei was dumbfounded for a moment. He appreciated his friendship with Song Qingshi, but he couldn't keep up with his medical obsession. He had to laugh awkwardly and switch off the topic: "Don't look at this beauty's promiscuity deceive you. In the mortal world, he was also a noble and respectable prince. When he was eight years old, Xie Que found that he had excellent aptitude when he was looking for beauties in the mortal world, so he showed his supernatural powers and presented the emperor with a pill for prolonging life. The old emperor was so happy that he happily gave his son to the immortal leader. Xie Que is also an ingenious person. He will seriously accept mortals with spiritual roots as disciples, and coax them to trust him. Then he uses that trust to trick them to sign the spiritual contract of voluntary slavery. He then teaches them superficial techniques, and, when they appear to be at their peak, brands them with the Acacia Seal. He always gets them when the colour is at the best time for picking, and then sells them to the brothels to serve in their rooms.

Although everyone knew he was taking advantage of those loopholes, they all turned a blind eye and eventually accepted this method of slave trafficking."

The Yanshou Pill can only be taken once to extend someone's life to reach 100 years old.

Cultivators can live at least three hundred years so long as they build a good foundation base. They don't need this tasteless kind of thing at all. Most of them are bought for their mortal servants. The price is very cheap, only worth two low-grade spirit stones. Such huge profits have continued to promote the slave trade.

There is an endless stream of cultivators in the trade, but none of them are well-versed as Xie Que.

Song Qingshi was surprised to find in his memory that the original body had seen Xie Que before.

That spring, the original body was studying a new way to create pills behind closed doors. Xie Que came to seek medical treatment with a comatose child. The child was a mortal, about eleven or twelve years old, with a rare pure yang physique and a wood spiritual root. Moreover, when he reached the third rank, his talents were different, and he was even better than some of the wasted descendants of various immortal families. Xie Que said that it was his new apprentice who had recruited more than three years ago. When he went to the mountains to practice, he was bitten by a Devil Mask Snake. Devil Mask Snakes are not extremely poisonous, but they will turn the faces of the poisoned person different colours, just like they were wearing a mask.

The original body typically didn't treat mortals, but Xie cried out in tears, saying that this was his most important apprentice, and he was willing to pay a high price to save him. The original body was in a good mood at the time, and was annoyed by his repeated crying. The Devil Mask Snake poison was also easy to detoxify. He finally relented and ordered a servant to give him two detoxification pills and ordered Xie Que not to cry again.

Xie Que stayed beside the apprentice’s bed and took care of him for three days. The apprentice woke up from a coma, his body no longer in a serious condition, but it took time for the ghost marks on his face to disappear. They stayed in the valley for half a month, and waited until his apprentice's face fully recovered.

During that time, the peach blossoms in the medicine garden bloomed just right, like red brocade all over the sky. When the original body encounters a problem with his alchemy, he often sits in a high place and looks at the peach blossoms and thinks. Every time, the original body would see a small figure under the peach blossom practicing swordsmanship. He practiced in the morning, at noon, and at night, as if it had become a landscape of symbiosis with the peach blossoms.

Mortals trying to cultivate immortality are like a fish leaping over a dragon's gate. The path comes with many difficulties and dangers, and there are few successful ones.

Xie Que was always by his side, with a worried expression on his face. He was either afraid that he would drop his sword or that he would become exhausted. The two quarreled several times. On a whim, the original's body and mind let out a spiritual thought to investigate. He heard the child say to Xie Que: "Master, although mortals are not as good as immortals, my father taught me to reward my diligence, and diligence can make up for my weaknesses. So I have to work harder and never waste time."

"What you said makes sense," Xie Que tried to persuade him with a bitter face. "Your injury has not healed. I'm afraid you might hurt your body. And. . . why do you have to practice sword? Entertaining cultivation, wouldn’t it be better for you to learn some flute, piano or something?"

"Master taught me to use music to cultivate Taoism is very good," the child scratched his head embarrassedly. "But I like swords, I want to be like Mo Yuan Jianzun. Master, rest assured, I know all the songs you taught me. I practiced better than my senior brothers and sisters, and I definitely don't put off practice."

Xie Que had no choice but to say: "I will find you the right ice silk gloves later. You must wear them when you practice swords. You must soak your hands with lotion at night to make your hands soft. This will prevent calluses, so you won't miss the subsequent practice."

The child cheered, excitedly: "Master, you are so kind."

"Don't get hurt," Xie Que lightly knocked on his forehead and complained. "You naughty devil. Your master is terrified. From now on, stay in the sects when you practice, and you are not allowed to go to the back mountains. Take breaks as well to avoid ruining your eyes."

The child accepted all these conditions.

Xie Que leaned over, rubbed his head gently, and sighed: "You don't know how much Master values you. . ."

"I know." The child raised his head and said in a serious voice: "I know that the immortal world looks down on mortals that cultivate immortality, and even looks down on the master who only accepts mortals as disciples. I don't want to shame my master, so I must cultivate a Golden Core to prove to everyone that Master’s vision is right!"

Xie Que looked at his face silently, his eyes distant and difficult to distinguish.

The child pulled Xie Que's sleeves, turned his eyes, and said embarrassedly: "Wuhuan likes Master the most!"

Xie Que stretched out his fingertips, stroked the child's colorful face, looked carefully, and finally stopped reluctantly on the small red mole under his left eye, which was dazzlingly beautiful. He was silent for a long time, showing a very kind smile: "Master also likes you the most."

. . .

#mistakenly saving the villain #chinese novel #chinese bl #english translation #mistakenly saving the villain translation #song qingshi #yue wuhuan

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atiny-piratequeen · 3 years

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since you dont know many german tales, how about the original story of rapunzel?

There were once a man and a woman who had long in vain wished for a child. At length the woman hoped that God was about to grant her desire. These people had a little window at the back of their house from which a splendid garden could be seen, which was full of the most beautiful flowers and herbs. It was, however, surrounded by a high wall, and no one dared to go into it because it belonged to an enchantress, who had great power and was dreaded by all the world.

One day the woman was standing by this window and looking down into the garden, when she saw a bed which was planted with the most beautiful rampion - Rapunzel, and it looked so fresh and green that she longed for it, and had the greatest desire to eat some. This desire increased every day, and as she knew that she could not get any of it, she quite pined away, and began to look pale and miserable.

Then her husband was alarmed, and asked, "What ails you, dear wife?"

"Ah," she replied, "if I can't eat some of the rampion, which is in the garden behind our house, I shall die."

The man, who loved her, thought, sooner than let your wife die, bring her some of the rampion yourself, let it cost what it will. At twilight, he clambered down over the wall into the garden of the enchantress, hastily clutched a handful of rampion, and took it to his wife. She at once made herself a salad of it, and ate it greedily. It tasted so good to her - so very good, that the next day she longed for it three times as much as before. If he was to have any rest, her husband must once more descend into the garden. In the gloom of evening, therefore, he let himself down again. But when he had clambered down the wall he was terribly afraid, for he saw the enchantress standing before him.

"How can you dare," said she with angry look, "descend into my garden and steal my rampion like a thief? You shall suffer for it."

"Ah," answered he, "let mercy take the place of justice, I only made up my mind to do it out of necessity. My wife saw your rampion from the window, and felt such a longing for it that she would have died if she had not got some to eat."

Then the enchantress allowed her anger to be softened, and said to him, "If the case be as you say, I will allow you to take away with you as much rampion as you will, only I make one condition, you must give me the child which your wife will bring into the world. It shall be well treated, and I will care for it like a mother."

The man in his terror consented to everything, and when the woman was brought to bed, the enchantress appeared at once, gave the child the name of Rapunzel, and took it away with her.

Rapunzel grew into the most beautiful child under the sun. When she was twelve years old, the enchantress shut her into a tower, which lay in a forest, and had neither stairs nor door, but quite at the top was a little window. When the enchantress wanted to go in, she placed herself beneath it and cried,

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let down your hair!"

Rapunzel had magnificent long hair, fine as spun gold, and when she heard the voice of the enchantress she unfastened her braided tresses, wound them round one of the hooks of the window above, and then the hair fell twenty ells down, and the enchantress climbed up by it.

After a year or two, it came to pass that the king's son rode through the forest and passed by the tower. Then he heard a song, which was so charming that he stood still and listened. This was Rapunzel, who in her solitude passed her time in letting her sweet voice resound. The king's son wanted to climb up to her, and looked for the door of the tower, but none was to be found. He rode home, but the singing had so deeply touched his heart, that every day he went out into the forest and listened to it. Once when he was thus standing behind a tree, he saw that an enchantress came there, and he heard how she cried,

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let down your hair!"

Then Rapunzel let down the braids of her hair, and the enchantress climbed up to her. "If that is the ladder by which one mounts, I too will try my fortune," said he, and the next day when it began to grow dark, he went to the tower and cried,

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let down your hair!"

Immediately the hair fell down and the king's son climbed up. At first Rapunzel was terribly frightened when a man, such as her eyes had never yet beheld, came to her. But the king's son began to talk to her quite like a friend, and told her that his heart had been so stirred that it had let him have no rest, and he had been forced to see her. Then Rapunzel lost her fear, and when he asked her if she would take him for her husband, and she saw that he was young and handsome, she thought, he will love me more than old dame gothel does. And she said yes, and laid her hand in his.

She said, "I will willingly go away with you, but I do not know how to get down. Bring with you a skein of silk every time that you come, and I will weave a ladder with it, and when that is ready I will descend, and you will take me on your horse."

They agreed that until that time he should come to her every evening, for the old woman came by day.

The enchantress remarked nothing of this, until once Rapunzel said to her, "Tell me, Dame Gothel, how it happens that you are so much heavier for me to draw up than the young king's son - he is with me in a moment."

"Ah! You wicked child," cried the enchantress. "What do I hear you say. I thought I had separated you from all the world, and yet you have deceived me."

In her anger she clutched Rapunzel's beautiful tresses, wrapped them twice round her left hand, seized a pair of scissors with the right, and snip, snap, they were cut off, and the lovely braids lay on the ground. And she was so pitiless that she took poor Rapunzel into a desert where she had to live in great grief and misery.

On the same day that she cast out Rapunzel, however, the enchantress fastened the braids of hair, which she had cut off, to the hook of the window, and when the king's son came and cried,

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let down your hair!"

she let the hair down. The king's son ascended, but instead of finding his dearest Rapunzel, he found the enchantress, who gazed at him with wicked and venomous looks.

"Aha," she cried mockingly, "you would fetch your dearest, but the beautiful bird sits no longer singing in the nest. The cat has got it, and will scratch out your eyes as well. Rapunzel is lost to you. You will never see her again."

The king's son was beside himself with pain, and in his despair he leapt down from the tower. He escaped with his life, but the thorns into which he fell pierced his eyes. Then he wandered quite blind about the forest, ate nothing but roots and berries, and did naught but lament and weep over the loss of his dearest wife.

Thus he roamed about in misery for some years, and at length came to the desert where Rapunzel, with the twins to which she had given birth, a boy and a girl, lived in wretchedness. He heard a voice, and it seemed so familiar to him that he went towards it, and when he approached, Rapunzel knew him and fell on his neck and wept. Two of her tears wetted his eyes and they grew clear again, and he could see with them as before. He led her to his kingdom where he was joyfully received, and they lived for a long time afterwards, happy and contented.

so i have been taught a version that is a little easier on children, where rapunzel was basically safed by her prince and they lived happily ever after. and no birthing twins either. BUT this version has been the one read to children for decades since it was written.

i liked the disney movie, but as usual it glossed over the original everywhere. thats fine tho, it was fiction in the first place and an accurate verion might be more of a thriller, or horror movie... or just a very sad one. it just saddens me sometimes when so much detail is lost. just like malificent wasnt called by her original german name (malefiz) in the german dub of her movie. that irked me greatly.

(also if this is starting to get annoying, tell me!! i just really enjoy revisiting fairytales and telling people about them uwu)

Its not annoying at all. Again, i always appreciate this so much. Plus you're sharing part of your culture, for folklore and fairytales, even those with more wider known adaptations, are still important to people's culture. So even if you tell me a Grimm or something that i do know, i still appreciate it so much.

I know a lot of fairytales have gentler adaptations for the kiddos but ive never seen the traditional one for rapunzel so thank you sm!

#asks #schimmelspore #long post

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joonkorre · 3 years

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its crazy late but

@drarrymicrofic prompt: blanket fort

(there’s no plot. none. just dudes being guys, guys being pals)

(caution: not very micro, more like a one shot. a whole lot of anecdotes. i’m writing this under a blanket with snow beating at my window, so of course this has to be very soft and warm. you have been warned)

“Hello?” Harry says into the dark. He’s just gotten home and instead of seeing the familiar orange hue of their beetle-shaped lamp (a gift from Luna, of course), there’s a single sliver of moonlight slipping through the curtains. Nothing else seems to exist in the living room but the echo of Harry’s greeting. Tangerine and sage drift into his nose, followed by the bitter tang of smoke. The scent of Draco’s favorite candle, newly extinguished.

Draco just left. Discovered a breakthrough in his research and fled to the Ministry lab, maybe.

Harry sighs. Unlaces his boots and hangs up his coat absentmindedly only for it to crumple onto the floor. Another sigh. He bends and retrieves it, deciding instead to throw it in the laundry bin. Might as well; he’s been trudging around in Dayhound mucus for hours and neither his dragonhide boots nor coat were spared.

Walking into the kitchen, Harry grabs a glass from the drying rack and pours himself water from the pitcher in the fridge. It’s ridiculous how a simple act like this can drain his energy so, but it does. Curse breaking isn’t a walk in the park; even walking hurts, considering the amount of magic he expends on shite like a 500-year-old wailing locket on a day to day basis. Exposure to different kinds of magic - dark, Old Magick, elemental, countlessly and endlessly more- for 8 hours straight more often than not result in a fierce ringing in his temples and pinpricks on his skin.

After years of doing it, he can scarcely tolerate one Portkey trip from wherever he’s assigned to back to the main headquarter before getting uncontrollable shivers. Another 30 minutes on the metro, then a 10-minute walk home. In addition, Harry has to sleep for at least 8 hours every night to replenish his energy. Morning comes, he wakes up, Apparates to the headquarter, and the cycle continues.

Why does he even stick with curse breaking at this point? Right, a wry grin graces Harry’s lips, Draco thinks the uniform is hot. Oh, and can’t forget the job benefits, insurance, whole nine yards.

With the glass now rinsed and settled once more on the drying rack, Harry drags his feet to the bedroom. The clock - an antique Draco stole from his cheating ex - hits 7:18 PM, but getting ready to go to sleep sure sounds like a decent idea. Harry palms the back of his aching neck and winces. He’d go shower, scrub the dirt and tension off his limbs, and maybe heat up the leftovers from two days-

“There you are. I was wondering how much longer drinking water could take.”

Harry looks up from his slippered feet to see Draco. Or, more specifically, Draco’s silhouette. Behind some kind of white cloth. A white cloth that’s conveniently placed where the focus of the bedroom should’ve been.

The relief at seeing his husband evaporates.

“What,” Harry says, “where’s our bed.”

Draco’s silhouette crawls to the opening of the cloth… tent-shaped thing. Pewter grey eyes peer at him behind strands of near-platinum blonde, its icy color soothed by the orange tint of… ah, so he’s brought the bug lamp in here. Neat.

“I,” Draco answers. Pauses. “Might have brought it somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else.”

“Yes.”

Harry shakes his head. An exasperated chuckle escapes his lips.

“Is ‘somewhere else’ the recycling center?”

“Why,” Draco flops down on the floor, appearing tired of holding himself up on his elbows for more than 10 seconds. It’s peculiar to see, the gesture a bit ungraceful for someone like him. Harry is helplessly in love amused. “Do my ears deceive me? Am I being confronted, cornered, accosted for being a good husband? Were the 5 minutes it took to Shrink and Levitate the wretched old thing away from our safe haven worth your condescension, dear lover?”

“I guess I did say I hate-”

“Correct!”

“-the headboard. Nothing but the headboard. Yesterday. While I’m half asleep. Baby.”

“Oh, pish posh, I hate it too! In fact, I’m doing us both a favor disposing of the entire thing altogether.”

“God, however can I thank you? I mean, you did rid us of our bed where we sleep on.”

“You can thank me by taking off those horrid gears faster and come here,” with that, Draco crawls back to where he was sitting before.

“You love these gears,” Harry says, hanging his harnesses and tool belt in the closet and walking into the bathroom for a quick shower, “you love them against your ba-”

“Put a lock on that filthy mouth, Potter, what will the Daily Prophet think?” Draco’s yell almost drowns out the shower spray. Harry laughs, his stomach hurting for the right reason at last.

When he re-enters the bedroom, Draco is leaning out from the tent thing.

“Come, get in, get in,” he beckons with a hasty wave.

Harry points to his wet hair with the hand holding his towel. Draco clicks his tongue and waves his hand more aggressively.

His husband’s level of theatrics is directly proportional to how slow Harry is at doing what he says, so he nods, fondness overflowing, and obeys.

“What’s all this?” He crouches and crawls in, eyeing the collection of pillows and quilts surrounding Draco and what would be Harry’s seat. It seems that he had also lugged in the chairs from their dining room to provide some structural support for the tent.

“A blanket fort, lover,” Draco says, his gaze tender. Harry’s finger tips tingle with every touch of cotton, linen, silk, as he gets situated. It’s been years and years and years and years, and Harry can never get used to, can never take for granted, the weight of his husband’s undivided attention.

“Huh,” he says, sitting down with an ‘oof’, “isn’t this for kids?”

“A blanket fort is a blanket fort,” Draco takes the towel from Harry’s arm and puts the throw pillow Ron knitted in his lap. He hits a button on the laptop in front of them, and Harry’s favorite jazz collection plays. He blinks. He thought Draco would play his questionable atmospheric-white-noise-POV-you’re-having-tea-in-a-gothic-vampire-library playlist, the weirdo.

Velvety smooth sax flows through the air. Harry exhales, easy and content, and lets Draco tilt his head. He towels Harry’s hair, massaging unhurried circles on his scalp and varying the degree of pressure. In no time, his head lolls forward, eyes closed, chin a breath away from his well-worn shirt. A slender, pale hand cups his cheek and holds his head up and steady. Meanwhile, the hand’s owner leans out of the blanket fort to get something.

“Ow.” A grunt. Harry smiles; most likely a cramp from all the leaning.

Then, his husband reseats himself, this time with a smell. A mouth-watering, delicious smell, tickling the back of Harry’s nose. He opens his eyes to see Draco lifting off the lid of a ceramic bowl perched on a tray, steam floating out and fogging Harry’s glasses. It’s purple yam soup, topped with chopped up shrimp and ground beef.

“Your usual order from the Viet place nearby whenever Pepper-up isn’t sufficient,” Draco murmurs, placing a spoon in Harry’s hand, his words warm against Harry’s temple. Huh, he didn’t think Draco would notice. “You said today you’d deal with those disgusting booby traps you showed me, thus I reckoned I should put the yams on our counter into good use.”

Harry stares at the soup, stunned. Draco must have taken his expression as something else.

“Oh, right,” he says, “I heated it up on the stove, but you were taking atrociously long so I casted a Heating charm. Let me take it off, okay?”

Draco flicks his hawthorn wand, a hand squeezing Harry’s shoulder as if he could see the prickling running up Harry’s nape.

He turns to look at his husband. When Harry’s career was starting to take its toll on his magical core, Draco didn’t hesitate to dive headfirst into Muggle living. Easier said than done, and it took months for him to stop frowning at the “absolutely bizarre, Potter, bizarre” appliances, but he got there in the end. Despite his constant bitching about everything, Draco not once raised a word about the drastic switch, effortlessly guiding Narcissa to gossip about the Albescu clan’s abhorrent matriarch when she asks about how he’s faring.

“Gosh, I,” Harry says. Mumbles, really, into Draco’s collarbone, filling his brain with the woodsy aroma of potion making that no amount of expensive body products can mask, “that’s lovely, baby, thank you.”

“Eat,” Draco says, rubbing his chin on the top of Harry still-damp hair and messaging his tense neck. Harry knows he’s breathing him in too. “Or I’ll have to heat it up in the kitchen again, and forgive me but I’d rather stay here for the next 12 hours, at least.”

“Lazy arse.”

Draco laughs, a momentary rumble of his chest, then moves forward to click something on the laptop. Harry’s on his fifth spoonful of pure comfort when the jazz music stops, and on the blank wall opposite from their blanket fort is the title card of a movie. Strange, Harry didn’t even notice the mini projector. He squints.

“Why is there Korean subtitles?”

“Lover,” Draco tosses a napkin at Harry’s crossed legs, “what is watching movies online without the occasional bout of piracy?”

“Pira- piracy,” Harry chokes, the hot soup stinging his palate, “we have a Netflix subscription.”

“You can’t find shite like this on Netflix.”

“Of course we can. Baby, we don’t know anyone who’s good at computer stuff and can deal with the viruses.”

“There’s no virus here, I checked.”

“How,” Harry stresses, “and again, piracy.”

“Sometimes,” Draco says, lowering the speaker volume, “not doing crimes… is worse.”

“What the fuck,” the main character, a square-faced woman with a python around her neck, has a monologue in a completely different language. “What the fuck? Is that Italian?”

“Yes, but I’m French.”

“And?”

“And they’re both Romance languages. I can understand certain words and translate it for you.”

No, he can’t.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Keep eating,” Draco settles amid the pillows, long hair settled on his satin-clad chest, white against emerald. Harry sneers at him - an unfortunate habit he’s gotten from Draco - and turns to watch the movie.

True to his words, Draco translates every dialogue and mimics the characters’ voices with zeal, contradicting his stoic expression and somber, interlaced hands, looking like a cranky judge having to deal with reckless teenagers on their anti-authority phase. Harry can tell that he doesn’t understand a thing, and soon enough he’s woven a story about how the thriller-mystery they’re watching is actually a vicious custody battle over a duck. For each of Harry’s occasional snicker at the absurdity Draco has thought up is a playful kick at his ribs.

Minutes pass. With Harry’s bowl now emptied, he puts it on a chair and goes to wash up.

The moment he sits back down, Draco’s big toe pokes at his spine. Getting the memo, Harry grins and reclines on the pillows. His left side is flushed against Draco’s right, the kinks in his neck eased off from the angle. They, as per usual, gradually get closer to one another, and at some point, Draco lays his head on Harry’s chest and ear on his beating heart. It’s calming to him, Draco had said when Harry asked, on the third night of their honeymoon. With the war long behind them, there was nothing to fear. Only the constellations existed as their witnesses.

“You died, Harry,” he had whispered, full and tipsy. “It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen, despite all the shite I made you go through.

“You were so far away in Hagrid’s arms, I couldn’t see your face,” the night had been blinding, but his eyes had found Draco’s anyway. “It felt like my heart died with you.”

Harry had kissed his forehead and hugged him close. His heart had always been there for Draco to take.

“What’s up with the blanket fort?”

He has a lapful of Draco, a lungful of peach and cedar scented shampoo, and the sleepy timbre of his husband’s voice against his chest. The Italian movie is the last thing on Harry’s mind.

“I wasn’t aware of its existence growing up,” Draco says. “Having anything other than an immaculate bed when one wasn’t sleeping was uncouth, see, so you could imagine my surprise when Teddy demanded to play in something as messy as a fort so often.”

Harry doesn’t need to imagine it; he had witnessed it himself. Draco, freshly released from a two-year sentence in Azkaban, mellowed and tentative, yet determined to reconnect with his mother’s sister and his nephew. Harry had been wary too, standing in the corner of Teddy’s bedroom, staring at the fuzz of blonde on Draco’s shorn head and his weak gait. Teddy, the darling boy with his clumsy hold on Draco’s thigh, afraid that the haggard man would trip without help, had led him to his play area.

“Fort, fort,” the boy had screamed in Draco’s ear, but he hadn’t flinched. He had nodded and gone along with Teddy’s babbled directions, then sat back on his heels and fixed a wide-eyed stare at the monstrosity Teddy had called a fort (his designing skills were, unsurprisingly, underdeveloped at the mere age of two).

Swiveling his head, he had gawked at Harry, who had still been standing in the corner with his arms crossed, confusion and hysteria in the arch of his aristocratic brows.

It had been the first time he had looked at Harry in the eye for years. In seconds, it was 6th Year all over again, with him watching Draco pushing his food around with a fork from across the room, unable to look away. Obsession, a voice unlike Hermione’s helpfully defined, had slithered up and under his skin. It had remained there for years, stubborn and ardent, an emotion he had tried to leave behind time and time again. He’d never succeeded.

It’s Draco, after all.

“He never let anyone but him enter the fort, remember? Back when he’s still making us build it for him?” Draco’s fingers tap a random rhythm on Harry’s stomach. Harry tightens his arm around him, shifts a bit. “So many forts and I still didn’t know what it’s like to be in one.”

Somebody downs a shot in the movie. Harry doesn’t quite register it. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a proper one either until now. Didn’t have enough space in the cupboard. Plus, the hanging around the beds at Hogwarts felt pretty cozy by themselves.”

Draco hums. “Mhmm, I say. Another ‘first’ for us.”

Harry glances at the crown of his head. The man doesn’t sound surprised; Harry wagers that he already knows and decided to make one for the both of them today.

They continue to watch the movie in silence, whites and blues and purples flooding his sight, until Draco yawns and Harry blinks his eyes shut for far too long.

“Baby.”

“Hmm?”

“Sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Where, then? We have no bed.”

“I still maintain that I made the right choice”

“Jesus Christ, you’re so rash for an academic.”

“Well, in my professional opinion, sleeping in a blanket fort every blue moon does wonders for one’s quality of sleep,” Draco gets up on his elbow to smirk at Harry, “we can look at other beds tomorrow, can’t we? Now hush. Rest.”

“Ha,” Harry says, at least 5 more words to follow up on that just on the tip of his tongue. But then Draco runs a gentle hand through Harry’s hair, taking his time with it, the remaining hints of Harry’s migraine from work fading with every curl of hair carefully unknotted. He mumbles this and that, silly, insignificant things, engrossed in his task, and Harry listens carefully as his eyelids lower.

Draco takes off his gold-rimmed glasses (so sweet and soft Harry can barely feel it), cleans them and puts them on a chair. Through half-lidded eyes, Harry watches him cover them both with a quilt and return to Harry’s chest, curling up like a cat. Draco’s arm is around his midriff, peach and cedar pervading his senses anew, and Harry forgets whatever he was going to say.

Cold ankles pressed against bare calves, Harry is already deep asleep when the credits roll.

#drarry #drarrymicrofic #drarry fic #fanfic #harry potter #draco malfoy #blanket fort #oneshot #3k words #draco would be the type to get mushy mushy in private and call harry shit like lover darling my love #harry would say draco baby and babe everywhere #thats it hes uncreative like that #and draco wouldnt even care #both of their love languages are acts of service so draco doesnt need reassuring when he knows harry would burn cities for him #they love each other very ardently that simple gestures communicate entire sonnets #and theyre cool with that #good for them #joonkorre writes

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