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ma1dita · 1 year ago

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about you

this was a request! read it here

words: 4.3k (longest one yet ohmy)

summary: james potter takes ‘easier’ for granted and finds out he now has a living reminder of that

warnings: none! sort of au, everyone lives and they win the war— angst angst angst, maybe open ended!!! groveling james and reader is a MOTHA (afab!)

a/n: guys i missed writing angst…i’m a deeply sad soul at heart so i enjoyed this a lot. I listened to ‘night shift’ by lucy dacus writing the first half, and ‘about you’ by the 1975 for the second half,,,,, both on repeat. i don’t mean to post at ungodly hours but i hope you enjoy!

posted: 11/11/23

—-

Insecurity is an ugly thing. It tugs at your frame, holding your shoulders hostage and your countenance shriveled in a scowl as you slink forward in your seat. But what should the rational reaction be when your boyfriend, the one you’ve planned out the rest of your life with— takes you out to dinner on a random Tuesday and then decidedly backtracks on everything you’ve built together? Your ears are ringing loudly, and you dumbly ask him to repeat himself when he says he wants to take a break.

“So that’s it then. You’ve made your decision and I just have to be okay with losing a year and a half of my life because you aren’t sure if you love me?” Your tone cuts through the fraying tether that holds you two together in the corner booth.

James for once, is at a loss for words. He wasn’t really sure of what to expect when he brought you here tonight, but any reaction to his admission was bound to hurt the both of you. You had to have known about his hesitations. Graduation was three weeks away, and everything was about to change, whether either of you liked it or not. Stupidly enough, James does love you, but that’s not the problem. The proximity he’s had as Head Boy working with Lily Evans makes him wonder if the life he lives is what’s meant for him. It keeps him up at night, gnawing at his resolve and comfort in being with you. He feels ungrateful to have it so easy. Loving you is easy. But the imposter syndrome sneaks into his room late at night in the form of ‘what if’.

“I…it’s just the timing of it all. We’re about to leave Hogwarts, and I don’t want to tie you down if I know I’m unsure of my—our future.”

He reaches out to grab your hand, and many a time ago, his sense of awareness was what you admired about him. You’d both get this familiar feeling of needing comfort, and within a minute, your fingers would intuitively find the other’s like it was second nature. Now, the thought of his touch might make you break his hand off to serve on a silver platter.

“Fuck your timing. If you think it’s as easy as making the decision to just quit while we’re ahead…. I love you. Don’t you…Is that not—”

You clear your throat, the fire in your indignation being stifled by the whimpering feeling of knowing this was going to happen. The understanding of his plight, the knowing that he wants more. You could see it in the way his eyes wander when you all hang out, and you could feel it when he needs time to himself before bed, letting you back to your common room in the late hours alone. Screw your heart for appealing to his indecisiveness, his fear, when the final blow is aimed at the relationship you both once wanted together. Head Boy and Head Girl share living quarters after all. What chance did you stand against the girl he fell asleep a room away from? Maybe he dreams of her too, what you couldn’t give and what more she has to offer.

“Tell me something James,” you choke as your body heaves with something akin to nausea. Being lovesick isn’t as romantic as it seems. The hopeless feeling in your tummy throbs as you clench your fists to keep it all down.

“Whatever you want.”

His reply makes you laugh, desolation gripping your esophagus. Who knew feeling empty would feel like drowning? There is no more air left in your lungs that it almost incapacitates you, your last breath spilling out your final ask of him.

“Do you love me? What did I do?”

The noise and chatter around you seems to fall silent as he zeroes in on your face, crestfallen from the words that leave your lips. It isn’t your fault, but how can he tell you that? At 18, he’s feeling stifled by the privilege of having his life all planned out for him. He knows people spend their lives searching for contentment but James can’t decipher if he’s right for all of this pressure falling upon his shoulders. The societal heir of his father’s business empire. The face of the upcoming war, bringing in a new generation of soldiers to fight.

Deep inside, he’s a wild spirit just wanting to live, to be free. And it scares him that you’d follow him to the ends of the Earth, that there isn’t much thinking involved, just doing. The lack of autonomy stifles his soul. How does one know if they’re meant for more? James doesn’t want you to have to suffer the consequences if he can’t figure it out himself.

“I love you honey. So much it hurts me. I just wonder if it’s enough.”

Your hands clatter onto the table, bumping your half-empty pint of butterbeer as you gather your things, shoving them into your knapsack as his final blow hits your senses. And all he does is watch you, face transfixed as if he sees nothing, like he isn’t making the biggest mistake of his life.

There’s no going back after this, you think silently as you steady your trembling hands. There’s also no way in hell you’ll let him see you cry. Fuck that. Your eyes fall over the curls that drape over the frame of his glasses, his face cradled by candlelight and dear Merlin, do you love this boy. All of him, even the parts that don’t reciprocate the feeling. This is the final snapshot in your memory of him, because this fleeting moment will have to be enough.

“I hope you get everything you ever wanted James. For my sake, I hope I never hear a thing about it.”

Perhaps having the last word will absolve you of the feeling that desecrates your entire essence as you put one foot in front of the other, pushing past the door of the Three Broomsticks and out into the unknown. But it’s not enough.

—

The break in routine absolutely shatters you, if we’re being honest. A year and a half of loving him, and three more before that of liking the slow steady burn that is James Potter…. It’s like looking at the world with new eyes and this window of opportunity with graduation nearing is your chance of starting anew. There’s also the custodial aspect after the end of a relationship, and it’s hard to separate the rest of what’s yours and his in your mind. Your friends are his, and his are yours. It makes quite a predicament to not have things so easy as they consider who to eat lunch with, or who’s dorm to hang out in. Hopefully, things get easier with time but you’re not as confident as you once were.

A part of you feels like you don’t belong anywhere anymore. James is the sun, after all; a natural leader— everyone revolves around his ingenious ideas and the light he brings. He’s the one who always has a plan, and everyone follows in his stead. Where do you fit in all of that? Where do you go?

His parents are likely the loveliest people to ever grace the wizarding world. Euphemia catches you by the arm after the graduation ceremony as you’re about to take the 7th year boat back across the Black Lake. With no family in attendance and no boyfriend to dote on, niceties were expended quick enough to want to run out of there and never look back.

“Darling, are you leaving without a goodbye?” Mrs. Potter smiles, calling her husband over both with grins made of sunlight.

Somehow it resonates in your brain that it’s finally over, and your lip trembles when they pull you in for a hug that rivals your hunger to be loved. You think that even if your parents showed up today, it wouldn’t have felt this kind.

“Congratulations dearest! We’re so proud of you,” Fleamont rumbles, a big man with an even bigger heart as he brandishes flowers out of thin air to hand to you daintily. You’re going to miss them terribly. Is it wrong to want more of this? But you remember why it’s not as James’s cologne floods your senses and his silhouette creeps into your periphery. Your smile grows smaller as you two stare at each other and breathe the same air for the first time in almost a month. Whatever’s thrumming in your being, he holds the key to. Mr. and Mrs. Potter try to loop you into a photo together, the magical kind that moves to capture a memory so intimately but both of you stand perfectly still as his and your hesitant dismissals go unheard.

Loving hands fuss over both your caps and the way hair sticks out until you feel your shoulders jostle together for a moment and his hand lands on the small of your back. The flash goes off as you two look at each other in something that still resembles love. You can’t unlove him, not in a day, a month, or ever, you think. Not if you’ve bared your soul to him, even if he hurt you.

You look away first, urging your heart to come back to reality. He’s not yours anymore, and you still love him. Alice told you earlier that he asked Lily out on a date for next Tuesday. What you were supposed to do with that information you’re unsure, but the feeling in your belly helps you say goodbye to the Potters, and clarify that they can keep the picture since you’re not James’ girlfriend anymore. An awkward silence settles over all four of you.

Euphemia rubs your cheek, hushed promises of keeping in touch while Fleamont looks at his son in confusion. James’ hand flexes in the absence of your body against his. He simply watches you walk away again, alone, while he’s surrounded by his friends and his family. The beating of a tiny heart matching your own as you hop onto the boat proves otherwise.

—-

A baby.

You think back to when it must’ve happened, the weekend before that Tuesday, when everything still felt right. With your last exams of your academic career finally done, both you and James were tangled in his silk sheets until dawn, an amalgamation of passionate whispers and lingering touches you could still feel in the days that followed. As you stared at the flutter of his eyelashes and relished the way he pulled you closer in his dream state, you were quite sure that he is, too, tangled within your soul to let go. That your doubts were residual anxiety from preparing for the future. For the first time in a while, you were reaffirmed that the boy sleeping next to you was your forever. Not being careful was a consequence of feeling safe in his arms, and subconsciously, you both hoped that everything would work itself out. As you walked out of the Head Students’ Lounge past noon with James’ hickeys as a necklace and donning your boyfriend’s shirt, you noticed the blush on Lily Evans’ face. You were just so sure, but that felt like forever ago.

Your parents weren’t happy when they came back from their business trip two months after graduation to find you four months along with a prominent bump and filled with so much fear. All plans of getting a job, of moving out, and joining the Order were now replaced with the startling fact that you are 18 and don’t have a single clue on what to do next. Your childhood bedroom feels smaller tonight, with both your parents standing at the door, all of you unsure of what to say. You can’t remember the last time they tucked you in, but as your dad takes a seat on the edge of your bed, it seems possible that maybe you won’t be alone in all of this.

“Whatever decision you make will be the right one, sweetie. If you love that baby, then we do too,” he sniffles, and you don’t recall having ever seen him this emotional before. One thing you are sure of, is this baby is loved, and made from love. The next is that England is not a safe place to raise your baby.

Somewhere far away, in a hidden place guarded by some of the most experienced wizards, the Order of the Phoenix meets again to determine the future of the wizarding world. James’s eyes dart back and forth from the door to whichever adult is talking about the next mission. You didn’t show up again. All of the meetings so far where he was always the first one to arrive and the last to leave in hopes of getting a glimpse of you, and you never showed. There’s a deep worry that haunts him as the months pass by, and he knows that it would be easy to send you a letter, or to show up at your door, but he’s probably the last person you want to see.

“We’re going out for a pint, you ready to leave James?” Lily whispers into his ear, arms curling around to his chest. But he’s not ready at all, sat on the sofa with his eyes on the door, just in case. Trying to love someone who’s still in love is a losing battle, Lily thinks, as she watches her boyfriend look like a child missing their favorite blanket. But in a war like this one, no one would be foolish enough to decline company.

“I’ll meet you there,” he smiles, leaning back to kiss her cheek. It’s cruel to both of them, the way he’s acting knowing that Lily won’t ever be you. Every chance he gets to have a moment to himself, he thinks of the despondent look on your face as you walked away from him and his parents that day. No more anger at all, no biting words or the fighting spirit that he knows and loves. Both of you just accepted what was to come.

Sirius and Remus approach him later after everyone’s left that they got word that you moved to America. He thinks of what could’ve been, and the thought of your safety is the only thing that lets his mind rest as guilt pushes and pulls at his heartstrings like waves.

He’s spent these months fighting in the war, loving and losing that he thinks this isn’t anything like the white house and picket fence fantasy you both used to cook up. As he grabs his coat to leave, James wonders if by being away from all of this you’ll get to live the life you want.

—

“Okay honey, hold on tight to mama.”

Your little boy was almost bouncing off the pavement with a chocolate covered grin, and it makes you laugh harder than it should. Maybe Florean Fortescue’s was not the way to start off your son’s first trip to Diagon Alley, but your new job at the Ministry starts tomorrow and you’ve been missing your favorite stationery. The town was packed with people with the war having ended and trying to start anew. You haven’t seen any familiar faces and maybe years ago that was a bad thing, but hope spreads over Diagon Alley with strangers smiling at Christopher as he skips on the cobblestone, almost tripping over his own feet at the entrance of Flourish and Blotts.

He runs forward to explore the store as you smile at your creation, letting him wander along the aisles as you have done years before. Being back here is like walking through a memory, and though it used to be home, you know yours is walking around in tiny bright red shoes that light up like his smile. Your fingers flip through the different quills and parchment on display, and after finding everything you need, you hear your son’s laughter in the opposite corner of the shop. Motherly instincts always prevail as your feet guide you to the sound of his voice, since he’s never been one to shy away from a friendly conversation.

“Did you find everything you were looking for, honey?”

James’ head whips up from the tiny boy he was entertaining with color-changing quills to see you, and he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose to make sure he’s seeing properly. The both of you go quiet as time stands still, with Christopher chattering at your feet.

“Mama! Look at this one, it goes rainbow!” he says, tugging at your coat to see the quill in James’s hand. The pieces start to fit together in James’ mind, looking at your pursed lip, then to the sight of this boy smiling with the innocence he had a lifetime ago. This boy, his son, has your eyes. You shake your head rapidly as he intakes a breath of air.

“Honey?” he whispers, knowing that was his name for you.

“So what, he looks like a honey,” you say defensively, grabbing your son’s hand.

He looks like my son, his eyes say—both of you look down to the child who’s all grins and none the wiser piping up.

“My name’s Topher!”

“Yes it is, and now it’s time to say goodbye to the nice man, okay?” Topher pouts and looks up at his father without even knowing it, handing him the quill.

“Keep it. I’ll pay for it, and then you can write to me,” he says almost desperately, losing grip of everything that he’s been trying to convince himself for the past 7 years.

“Don’t be weird, Potter. Don’t…” you shake your head, eyes misting over. Seeing him again brought back everything. It was already overwhelming to have a kid that’s almost the splitting image of him, to learn of a love so pure after one that’s wrecked you to your core, but being here, within arms reach… You’re 18 again and scrambling away from the corner booth trying to get away from the man you love most not wanting you in return.

“Honey, why don’t you give us a minute to talk? Go find me some cool enchanted stickers for me to bring to work tomorrow, okay?” Your baby runs off without even questioning it, his sense of adventure also inherited from his father.

“I’m…so sorry.” James moves closer to you, and you take a step back sighing humorlessly.

“For what? He’s an amazing kid. Even though… he wasn’t planned, I don’t think I could ever see my life turning out any other way.” You shift your weight to your other foot. He looks, successful, if that’s something he would be proud of. He’s wearing an impressive suit, and his eyes are a bit hardened by the past few years, but his charisma, his smile…. He’s still the boy you fell in love with all those years ago.

“I feel foolish. I was so scared to live my life and then here you are raising our child…”

You blink softly at his words, and it reminds him of your youth, all doe-eyed and full of want. You used to want him like he still wants you. In front of him is a grown woman, a mother who’s strong and filled with memories and love that he should’ve been a part of.

“Things happen for a reason, James. We both did what we had to do.”

His hand brushes yours, and you realize you’ve been without his touch for 7 years. 7 years of being scrubbed clean of James Potter, and not a single regenerated cell in your body has been touched by him. But your son is of him, so you think that no matter how this ends, there will always be a part of you that loves James too.

You extend an olive branch to have him come to your apartment this weekend and get to talk. He knows he doesn’t deserve this kindness, but you know he deserves to meet his son.

—-

The doorbell rings and you take a deep breath as you open the front door, looking up at him holding a teddy bear for Topher.

“He’s still down for a nap. Let’s go sit in the den.” You say quietly. The hallway is filled with pictures of your boy, and of you in different stages these past few years. He stops at a portrait of your parents with Topher being swung between them.

“Your parents….”

“Were supportive; I wasn’t alone,” you muse, knowing he knows of your strained relationship with them back then.

“They actually just retired early last year. Overworked themselves and finally comfortable, so they help out when they can. What about yours?” Trying to make conversation with your ex is terribly hard, but it’s in good spirit and there’s not much to do until Topher wakes up.

“They passed, actually. Mum at the end of the war, and dad 6 months after. Never wanted to be apart, you know that.”

Your face falls at his revelation, “I’m sorry for your loss. They were amazing people. Taught me what it meant to be a parent, for sure.” Amicable silence fills the living room before you clear your throat.

“I have to be blunt, James. What do you want from this? You must be married and busy, so if Topher can’t fit into that….”

“I’m neither of those things, honey. I want to try and see where this goes,” he says scratching the back of his neck.

Your heart stops at his endearment, catching yourself looking at him seriously.

“You can hurt me, but I’m not letting you do that to him. Back then, you were all I ever wanted love to be. And then I had my beautiful baby, and I suddenly knew my love meant more.”

“I never wanted to hurt you. It was a mistake, because I was too proud to accept that I had it good. That what I had was meant for me.” James grabs your hands, begging for you to understand. The lost boy he was is a lifetime away from the man sitting in front of you now. Though it’s touching, you keep your heart guarded because the little boy sleeping down the hall is your biggest priority. You hope he can understand that too.

“He’s not a placeholder for your dreams of wanting a family. You have to build that, I did that myself. I’m not going to let you string him along and then once you have a family of your own, you just up and leave.”

“I know. I was hoping the both of you could be my family, if you give me the chance.” You bite your lip as your thumb runs against his. It’s easier to forgive than to forget. But for Topher’s sake, you can try.

“Tell me something James,” you whisper, having needed to know this for the past 7 years.

“Why did you throw it all away? Was the idea of loving me…so terrible?” He tilts your chin up, and you think that the earnest look on his face is the closure you needed to properly forgive him.

“I’ve never stopped loving you. Loving you is the best part of knowing you. Do you think I ever forgot about you?” He chuckles lowly, brushing back a strand of your hair, and you think this could be dangerous if you let yourself get too close.

“I’ve thought about you everyday for the past 7 years, I just didn’t think I deserved you after everything I’ve done. I was so stupid, I am still. But I’m trying to be better.”

“You think of me but dreamt of her. Was it guilt?” Your hand grabs his as you move it away from your cheek, settling onto your lap. The air around you is suffocating.

“It took time for me to figure out that it was intention. Lily was a distraction. You’ve consumed me since the day I met you. My dreams, my thoughts… All of it is you. I choose to think about you as much as I can, because if I didn’t I was scared I’d forget all the good things about us back then.”

You both hear a thump from your son’s room and realize you’re wiping tears away. James stands up when you do, and both pairs of your socked feet pad closer to your son’s room.

“We start this slow. We make decisions together, and if there’s any inkling I get that he doesn’t want this, it’s done. You understand?” Your hands are firm on the doorknob as he’s standing close behind you, hanging onto every word.

“Every word. There’s no turning back from this.” He wants to ask another question, but before he can, your hand unconsciously finds his and your grip is so comforting that he notices himself sniffle.

“If it all goes well, and if you want, we can try again. But that’s in the far distant future, James Potter.”

“Anything you want, honey. That’s the future I’ve been dreaming of.” With you. Your lips quirk into a smile as they brush against his cheek.

Slowly opening the door to both watch your son wake up from his nap, your hand pulls James into the room behind you. Quietly, he sits on the edge of Christopher’s bed, and when his son looks up at him, you both notice the little boy beaming like the sun.

—-

“Everything you love is very likely to be lost, but in the end, love will return in a different way.” -Franz Kafka

taglist: @jsjcue

love me some tunes! i listened to this while writing:

night shift by lucy dacus & about you by the 1975

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#marauders era #james potter x reader #marauders x reader #james potter x reader angst

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breaddippedinorangejuice · 5 months ago

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no thoughts except Gojo Satoru experiencing his first true love.

contains: fluff and hurt/comfort. also gojo satoru fucking cryin'

Gojo is obviously the guy who has a facade of cockiness, some one who's overtly arrogant to the point he's deemed narcissistic, which he is.

That's why when he felt attracted to you, he used all his sub surface charms to woo you, and mostly, bring you to his bed (He thinks he could only be loved for his body because his soul is way too riven with pain. ) To his dismay, it wasn't successful. He was being rejected over and over again, a hearty laugh vibrates in your lungs each and every time.

So when he got fed up, he cried in front of you. Calling you cruel and heartless.

"You're s-so fuckin... hic.. mean" his eyes glossy, lips curling upwards as it trebles against his will.

And you looked at him confused. In your mind, you were grabbing pieces of memories you two had to try and grasp what's happening.

Then it clicked.

"Toru... did you seriously like me?" and the man glared at you

"Of course, goddammit!.. The hell you think I was doin' ..." he pouts

"... to pass time?"

"..."

After that messy situation, he told you he did all of that because that's the only way he thinks it'll work so you told him he's lovable, not because he's the strongest but because he's satoru. Just satoru, no titles or ranks attached. Then he cried again, this time in your arms, heart heavy with all the love he craved since he was young. Feeling warm and fuzzy with all the affection you gave unconditionally.

Finally got this out cuz my brain was rotting FOR DAYS with the idea of satoru experiencing his first love. He would act like a teenager but painfully aware so🥹 God, I love this man sm. That's why I stopped reading since the chapter he got cube'd. Anyways, this is extremely shirt cuz I'm still sick (unfortunately)

#gojo satoru #jjk men #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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milfloveer · 2 months ago

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Premonition 🦋

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x fem!reader

Plot: You have a terrible premonition about the person you love

Warnings: angst maybe but comfort and some fluff wins hihi; premonition of Lilia's death

A/n: Alright fam I'm currently in grief for my wife Lilia and I need some comfort and this was what came to my mind, so please enjoy as much as I do

I woke up frantically gasping for air "LILIA! NO!" I scream from the top of my lungs, tears staining my cheeks. The contact of someone's hands— No, not someone's, Lilia's hands, grabbing my face make me look at her face and the world falls on me.

Sobbing my heart out I lounge my body to hers and hug her tightly, crying my soul out as she says sweet nothing against my ear. Our bodies rock back and forward into a comforting movement, one of her hands holding the back of my head and the other on my lower back, pushing me even closer to her, her face nuzzled into the crook of my neck as mine is against her chest.

As I calm down I slightly pull away and look her in the eyes, ignoring the other members of the coven, probably in distress for seeing the scene before them "Lilia, please don't do it..." I sob with tears still in my eyes.

Lilia looks at me confused with her eyebrows furrowed "Do what?" she asks "Please, I'm begging you- I- I need you." I say between sobs, Lilia seems surprised by my words and so seems the rest of the coven "y/n what's going on? What did you see?" Agatha asks a little frightened cause she knows my premonitions weren't a good thing.

The premonition flashes through my mind again and I tightly close my eyes as I shake my head "No- NO! Please, make it stop!" I sob gripping Lilia's hands which were now on my face trying to stop my movements "Guys what do we do?" Alice asks, concern evident in her tone and her question directed more specifically to Agatha and Lilia than to the whole coven.

Lilia looks at Alice and then at Agatha, the later masking her distress and concern by shrugging her shoulders "We can't do anything about it. So we wait." she says, making the others groan and sigh as Lilia refocus on me again. She leans in and lays her forehead against mine making me open my frantic eyes and look at her concerned ones "Please, please, don't do it- don't leave me. I need you." I whisper, barely audible at the end "Why are you saying this, darling. What did you see?" she asks softly and carefully, I take a deep shaky breath before answering "I saw you falling... Sacrificing yourself..." my voice trembles as I try to say what I saw, she frowns "Please, don't do it, Lilia. Please." I beg her, fear evident in my voice and posture.

Lilia still doesn't understand why I'm begging her, why all the fear, the crying and concern from my side about her, we're good friends, but we knew what the road was when persuaded to go by Agatha, to join her coven "But darling, why are you so afraid of losing me?" she asks "Because I love you." I blurted out making her gasp softly with the impact of the words "Y-you do?" she stutters and I realise what I've just said and try to move away from her, but she won't let me "I'm sorry, Lilia." I say trying to contain the tears of embarrassment and rejection "I hope you're apologising for not telling me that sooner, darling." she says, her voice soft, dripping with tenderness and... Love?

My eyes lock with hers as searching for the answer, then I feel her soft and delicate lips against mine. The whole world disappears and it's only me and Lilia at this moment, our lips move delicately, lovingly, like sharing all the feelings for each other without words, it's... Magic. She pulls away and rests her forehead against mine once again "I love you too and I promise I won't leave you, my darling." she breathes out, brushing against my lips and in that precise moment I knew I didn't need to end the road, my heart was complete, bursting with love for the witch in front of me.

#wlw #agatha all along #agatha harkness #aubrey plaza #kathryn hahn #rio vidal #disney #marvel #marvel disney #lilia calderu x fem!reader #lilia calderu x reader #lilia calderu #patti lupone #patti lupone x fem!reader #patti lupone x reader #jennifer kale #alice wu gulliver #teen

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ashwhowrites · 1 month ago

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Hello, I love your stories and I hope you can make my fun request

Can you do Eddie Munson x Death fem reader

So hear me out let's say there in the upside down (11 and everyone isn't in California there in Hawkins and in the upside down with them and while they where chilling out in the upside down when Steve got hurt all of the sudden they heard whistling and turned and see a badass fem reader and walked up to 11 and starts toying with her (just like the wolf from puss and boots yk Death and when they figured out she's actually death they somehow get her a change of heart (after she tried to kill 11 and showed off her power a bit) and her and Eddie fall in love or Eddie falls first.

Sorry if it’s long

This was actually so fun and I loved writing the Death character. So if anyone else loves it, feel free to request ( once they are open ) for more death reader. I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Death was inspired by Rio from Agatha all along, won't lie. But the Death character is NOT Rio. If that makes sense. Just don't think Aubrey plaza is the reader because she's not, just was an inspiration so I wanted to give the credit to that.

Lady Death

"I FUCKING hate these bats," Steve growled. Nancy sat on her knees as she tried to cover Steve's wounds.

"What the hell is this place?" Eddie asked once he caught his breath. All he knew was that he jumped off a boat and was in a hell pit.

"The upside down," El said. She was looking around, almost like she felt the presence of something no one had seen yet.

"Oh great, so I have to fight to survive in the normal world, and now I have to survive in this sewer-type place? And this girl has powers?" Eddie asked frantically. He knew somewhat of everything that was going on, he just didn't believe it was a real place.

"Dude, I've already told you all of this!" Dustin argued.

"No offense, kid. But I figured you were full of shit!'" Eddie spat.

"Guys! Quiet," El demanded. Everyone went silent as they looked at her. She closed her eyes, trying to feel what was wrong. "There's something here," she whispered.

"Yeah, flesh-eating bats!" Steve hissed.

Before anyone could say anything, El was flung across the ground.

"EL!" Mike shouted, running over to her. But before he could come in contact with her, she was evaluated into the air. The gang watched in horror as she seemed to be held up by her throat, by an invisible force.

"What's going on?" Robin panicked. Nancy worked faster to clean up Steve.

The sound of someone whistling filled their ears. The gang all turned to see a woman walking towards them. She was dressed in a skin-tight green bodysuit, holes on the sides that showed skin, a green crown on her head, and a dangerous smirk playing on her lips.

Everyone stared at her in fear and awe. She was incredibly beautiful, but nothing alive behind her eyes.

"Poor little El, not so strong anymore, huh?" The lady mocked, she flicked her wrist and El fell to the floor. Mike raced over to her, this time able to collect her body in his arms.

"Who are you?" El asked, panting as she took air into her lungs.

"She's Death," Eddie said in awe. Everyone looked at him shocked, how did he know who she was?

Even she was surprised. She was fast, appearing in front of Eddie in seconds as she gripped his neck. Eddie tried to cover up the fact that he was incredibly turned on by her harsh touch.

"Who are you?" she questioned, Eddie blushed under her studying eyes. She took in every inch of his face, something about him was familiar.

"Edward Munson," he choked out. The gang didn't move an inch, staring at the two.

"How do you know who I am?" She released his throat to allow him to speak. She flicked her wrist and everyone in the gang was thrown to the ground. They were stuck, not able to move a muscle.

Eddie was a little scared, looking at his friends and some people he barely knew trapped under her power.

"I've read about you. You collect souls, right? El was supposed to die from Vecna but she escaped. Unfinished business and now you have to finish her," Eddie explained, "am I right, Y/N?"

Y/N stepped away from the boy. She felt uneasy that he seemed to know everything. No one was supposed to know who she was until she took their soul, of course.

With her distracted, the gang ran over to El. El was quick to use her own powers, sending Y/N in the air and harshly crashing into the ground. Her head hit the ground with a thud and her body went still.

"LET'S GO!" Steve yelled, the gang nodded and all ran to make their escape. Eddie went to follow but when he took a look at Y/N's limp body on the floor, he stopped.

"Eddie, come on!" Dustin said, gesturing his hands to show that everyone was leaving.

"We can't just leave her," Eddie argued, against his better judgement he walked towards her.

"You said it yourself, she's Death. I think she's capable of handling a bump on the head," Mike sassed. He was annoyed that Eddie seemed to care about a stranger that was more than willing to kill El.

Eddie ignored Mike's words, kneeling down as he rolled her body over. There was a gash on her head, blood running down the side of her face. Eddie didn't have anything on him to help, but he ripped the end of his shirt and tied it around her head. He watched as his white shirt began to stain with her blood, but he didn't mind.

She couldn't die, he knew that. But he wouldn't feel right leaving her behind with no help at all.

~~~

It's been a few days since the encounter with Death, and she was in everyone's head ( just for different reasons.) El thought of her as a new enemy and most of the gang were terrified to know they were that close to Death.

But she was in Eddie's mind for a different reason. When he was younger he loved reading about death and what happened in the afterlife. He learned what death was, who death was. She's been around for centuries but never aged. Still the beautiful girl, who lost her soul too young.

Eddie often felt a connection to her. She didn't have a family, or any friends. People were scared of her, banished her, leaving her alone for years and years. She was like Eddie and Eddie was just like her. He was alone and banished in his own way, but they had much in common.

He couldn't leave her behind because he understood the pain of being alone. The pain of everyone running away, terrified. He wanted her to feel cared about for once.

Something about Eddie humanized her in a sense. She hadn't felt anything in her body since she died. She didn't feel emotions, her heart, not even her lungs. But when she was near him, touching and seeing him, she felt a beat in her chest. A flutter in her stomach.

Her body felt alive

She was able to trace where he lived from the property of his shirt. She carried the blood stained shirt in her hand as she walked through the woods, looking for his trailer park.

She felt that same beat in her chest as she walked past a small trailer. Random chairs in the front and an ash tray by the door. She walked away, the beat in her chest decreasing. With furrowed eyebrows, she walked backwards, the beat increased.

"Well look at that, having a heart is good for something," she scoffed, turning in the direction of the trailer.

She didn't knock, using her powers to fling the door right off the hinges.

Eddie was brushing his teeth when he heard his front door slam a wall.

"Shit!" He swore through his foamy mouth. He figured a big gust of wind blew through the door but when he came out, he saw Y/N standing in his house. His toothbrush hung from his mouth as he stared at her in shock.

"On-mf-e-sec-mff," he said through the foam. He turned and raced back in his bathroom to spit out the paste and rinse his mouth. He jumped when Y/N appeared behind him.

"Um, hi," Eddie said, staring at her reflection. She stood tall behind him, peaking over his shoulder. Her hair was down, framing her face. She was in her death clothes, the tight bodysuit making him gulp.

"You gave me this," she spoke bluntly. She held his shirt, hanging from her fingertips. He turned around and grabbed the shirt, tossing it to the floor.

"Thanks for bringing it back," he smiled. She flinched as she felt her heart race. But recovered with a smile.

"You're welcome," she said, turning around and walking out. Eddie followed, confusion on his face.

"Wait, where are you going?" He asked, moving to cut her off. Her body slammed against his and she stepped back. Her face stone cold.

"I dropped off the shirt. That's all that needed to be done," she said. Eddie frowned, thinking about how the only time she's in someone's presence is to kill them.

"Hey, you know you can be around people for fun, not just take their souls," the comment sounded like he was a dick but he was genuine about it. He closed the door and moved to his couch, patting the seat next to him.

She eyed him, moving cautiously and sitting next to him. "Well, thank you," she smiled. "And thank you for helping me."

"You don't have to thank me. I promise my friends are kind people, they just had to fight for their lives a few too many times," Eddie sadly laughed.

"You haven't?" She asked, Eddie could feel her eyes. He turned his head to look at her, trying not to get lost in her eyes.

"I have, I just understand how it feels to be the one that's left behind. I've studied you my whole life and you're not as scary as the books made you seem."

Y/N was in awe of the softness he showed and offered her. She couldn't remember when was the last time she got to be in someone's company.

"And by far more beautiful in person," he said, softer and quieter than before. Her heart fluttered and she felt her skin getting warm.

She felt shy, moving her head to hide away but his hand reached out. She jumped slightly at the feeling of his hand on her warm cheek. The eye contact felt intense, like she was in a trance and unable to look away. She didn't want to anyway, she wanted to stare at him all day long.

"You know, since you brought back my shirt. I think I owe you for your kindness," he whispered. Her stomach flipped as a small smile formed on his face. His perfect pink lips stretched as his white teeth were on display. She turned her head to the side, questioning him.

"You hungry?" He asked, "for food not souls." He clarified. She couldn't help but giggle at his words.

"I could eat," she smiled. He smiled back, standing up and grabbing her hand. He was prepared to go right out the door but then he stopped.

"Would you maybe feel more comfortable in..uh-" he stuttered, still feeling the effects of her suit clinging to her body and showing off her figure. "Comfier clothes?"

"What are the options?"

"Steve, if I hear you moan and bitch about the bats one more time, I will cut you myself," Robin threatened.

"I'd like a little support here! I could've died!" Steve argued. Nancy laughed to herself as the two began to argue. Jonathan had his arm thrown around her shoulder, looking down at the menu.

Eddie walked in, his hand in hers as he looked around for an open table. He was shocked to see Steve, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan at a table.

Steve looked up and his eyes locked on Eddie, and then the girl next to him. Eddie gave him a small wave but turned the other direction, leading Y/N. They sat at a table, with her back to his friends.

Steve raced over to their table, he wanted to see if his eyes were seeing things. But as he made it to them, his eyes were right. Eddie was holding hands with Death.

"Can I talk to you?" Steve asked, his eyes on Eddie.

"One second," Eddie said, softly kissing her hand before he let go.

The two huddled over to the side, Steve whispering harshly.

"Are you insane?"

"She's still a person!" Eddie argued

"She's a killer, Eddie. You can't just get sucked into her looks. She's evil."

"She's not! It's a job. She doesn't kill randomly. She only goes when she's called. There's some human inside of her, I'm going to bring it out. She just needs someone to show her" Eddie explained.

"You are going to risk yourself and all your friends because you want to find the human in her?" Steve scoffed, "I don't believe there's any human in her," Steve looked over at the table. She sat drumming her fingers as she twirled a knife in the air with her powers.

Eddie sighed, knowing she wasn't helping his case.

Steve noticed a look in Eddie's eyes. He was desperate and he had this soft look when his eyes cast over her.

"You fell for her already, didn't you?" Steve chuckled. It was nice to see Eddie had a romantic side to him. Steve remembered the feeling of falling in love for the first time.

"Yes," Eddie sighed. "Which I know is crazy but trust me, she came to my house and do you know how easily she could have killed me if she wanted to?"

Steve sighed, he nodded his head. Sometimes he hated being a good friend.

"Well," he puffed, landing his hand on Eddie's shoulder, "Enjoy your date. And the gang will need to hear all about it."

The hand that was on Eddie's shoulder was suddenly ripped off. Steve cried out as his arm was bent backwards behind his back and slammed into a wall.

"Y/N!" Eddie hissed, taking her body off of Steve's.

The rest of the gang looked at the commotion, fast on their feet to run to Steve.

"Sorry!" Y/N said, a look of shock in her eyes. "I felt something burn in my body and lost it."

"From what?" Steve asked, his eyes huge as he sassed the girl, who he now noticed was dressed in Eddie's clothes.

"You touched Eddie," Y/N shrugged. She wasn't exactly sure herself.

"What's going on?" Robin asked. Quickly looking Death up and down, which didn't go unnoticed by Eddie. He snapped his fingers and Robin looked at him.

"Well," Steve said as he rubbed his arm, "looks like Eddie and um Y/N here are on a date."

The gang were shocked, not sure what to say.

"And she's the jealous type," Steve added through his clenched teeth.

"I'll stop by later and talk yeah? I'd like to enjoy my date," Eddie said as he slipped his hand into hers.

"Uh sure," Nancy said, still giving the two a weird look. Jonathan kept quiet, but he was just as confused.

The gang walked back to their table, Robin looking over her shoulder as the two sat back down.

"How the hell did he manage to swing her? She's way too hot for him," Robin scoffed.

"Oh little Rob, we'll get you your own little Death lover," Steve teased.

~~~

Within a few months, Y/N was around more often. She was glued to Eddie's side whenever she could be. Eddie loved it. He loved always having someone on his arm, and he wasn't mad about the kisses that were always placed on his skin.

The gang accepted her, a little on edge at times but she was mostly harmless. It was clear that the two were head over heels for each other in their own ways.

The times she was called to do her work, Eddie waited in his trailer. His heart warming when she appeared back within minutes, claiming she missed him.

Then she'd slide in his lap, Eddie's hands landing on her hips. He rubbed his thumb against her skin, thankful for the holes in her suit. He was guilty of getting hard whenever he saw her dressed in her suit. She was Death so of course she was mean about it. Rocking her hips against him as she slowly kissed his lips.

She was his and he was hers.

Who knew Death could make someone feel so alive.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff x reader #ashwhowrites #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson x death reader

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moonlightazriel · 10 months ago

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Prologue /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Y/N Blackbeak keep dreaming about the same male for decade’s now, she wonders what this all could mean.

Word Count: 751

Warnings: None for this part.

Notes: Welcome to my new series, i hope you guys enjoy it just as much as i do. I was so excited to share this with you all.

Main Masterlist

Worlds Apart Masterlist

The sound of leathery wings sounded above her head, she looked up expecting to see the black wyvern hovering over her head. She blinked a couple of times, landing in front of her was the male, he had onyx hair, brown skin and the prettiest hazel eyes she had ever seen. His sharp jaw and plush lips were forming a smile, he was smiling at her.

She tried to touch his face, retrieving her hand quickly before her iron claws could do any damage to his smooth skin. The male shook his head, marred fingers grasping her wrist. He lifted her hand, pink warm lips ghosting over her cold skin, a kiss of midnight on the back of her hand.

She closed her eyes, feeling warmth spread across her chest, that thing skipping a few beats as he pulled her closer by the waist, still holding her hand. She waited for the kiss, feeling his breath fanning over her face, he smelled like night chilled mist and cedar. The scent wrapping itself around her and calming her wild heart.

“You have plagued my dreams for centuries.” She spoke, her voice hoarse like she had been silent for so very long. “Will I ever see you one day?” Her eyes watered.

The same dream, the same male, but she never found him, and she had spent so long looking for him. She knew he was different from her lovers, from anyone she had ever met. She knew she had to find him, see him at least once, to bring peace to her tortured mind.

With all the gentleness in the world, he cradled her face in between his hands, the rough skin brushing against the sides of her jaw. Those beautiful hazel eyes, tinted with specs of gold looked into hers, like they could see the fractured soul underneath the brave facade she tried so hard to keep together.

“Don’t wrap your pretty head around it.” His lips touched her forehead, and she leaned into that feeling, the only time she actually had peace was in the arms of the stranger that walked on her dreams. “You won’t have to wait much longer, but please..” She watched as worry laced his features.

She wanted to soothe the furrow of his eyebrows, with a cold hand, she brushed the tip of her finger against his cheek, slowly going upwards until she traced his eyebrows, the left one and then the right one.

“Whatever you want to say, do not worry, please.” She begged and the male nodded.

“Do not be hurt if I don't remember you, I'm not even sure you will remember me.” He chuckled, the sound lighting something within her heart.

“Like I could ever forget you.” She traced his lips.

“The Mother works in mysterious ways, all I know is that our time is coming soon.” He warned and her heart filled with hope, would she finally be able to feel his arms around her waist and his hard chest against her for real? No more play pretend, just reality.

“I can’t wait to meet you.” She allowed herself to feel that love, slowly taking roots in her heart, taking her by surprise.

“Soon, my love, soon.” He promised, his lips capturing hers in a delicate kiss.

She woke up, sweat coated her forehead and her heart hammered against her ribcage knocking the air out of her lungs. She felt dizzy, her fingers touching her tingly lips. The early rays of sunshine invading her room, forcing her to shut her eyes tightly together, the image of him burning bright as she did so.

Y/N got up, her body protesting but she had things to tend to. She was able to relax under the scalding water of her bath, but the dark circles still marked her eyes, giving her a tired aspect. She inspected the bumpy scar on the left side of her face, two smaller ones marred her eyebrow, missing the eye for an inch, and the biggest one was from the beginning of her hairline to her cheek, irregular skin patched together forming that monstrosity on her once beautiful face.

But just like her, the male also had his scars, and he never seemed disgusted by hers, he always looked at her with love and admiration, she was sure that when they found each other for the first time, he wouldn’t judge her. Nothing would be different between them, her heart just wondered when that meeting would happen.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Taglist: @fieldofdaisiies @blackgirlmagicforever @a-frog-with-a-laptop @going-through-shit @asweetblueberry2

@roses-r-red54330 @mis-lil-red @sheblogs @hibye02 @impossibelle

@glitterypirateduck @zeroangelo13 @sekiro1310

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #sarahjmaas #moonlightazriel #azriel #shadowsinger #azriel x reader #night court #azriel x y/n #velaris #worlds apart fanfic

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elliewithcellie · 6 months ago

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Rite of Passage

summary: steve takes care of you after a date gone horribly wrong (roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader)

wc: 2.0k

cw: results of the date which is not described, but understood to be sexual assault, Please use your discretion (marked in the tags so it can be filtered), steve stays platonic, he is the comfort in the hurt/comfort, reader takes a bath, semi-graphic description of injuries, angst but fluff in how steve cares so much for reader. PLEASE let me know if I'm missing anything

a/n: this is not for the faint of heart. it has been in the vault since 2022 just as a kind of a coping thing. it's one of the stories i revisit and literally just cry rereading, but maybe it can be helpful to others. this is just one way one can react to this sort of incident. everyone's own reactions are valid, and i love you.

It could happen to anyone. Almost every girl experiences it, some sick rite of passage to prove that you are a woman. To remind you that you are still inferior, second class, an object to be used. Then these women share their stories so nonchalantly, in passing, and in response to their friends’ stories. Some don’t share at all. Some bottle it up and smile through the pain anyway, now nothing behind her once vibrant eyes.

But you never really thought it would happen to you. Not that you were invincible or immune or reckless; it’s just not something that anyone can fully comprehend. You’d been told to smile more. You’d been objectified or ignored. You thought that put you on the list already.

You thought he was a sweet guy. You wished you listened to Steve. You had laughed at his suggestion to “at least bring him back to the apartment.” You were so embarrassed at the thought of making out with some guy while Steve hid in the other room. And you didn’t want your date to know that you lived with another guy. But all that seemed so insignificant now.

You had to walk home. Your teeth chattered in the drizzling rain, your gait slightly wider than usual. You crossed your arms and bit down on your lip hard, a desperate attempt at a distraction. Not a single car passed you on your trek home. The darkness consumed you. The silence betrayed you. With your phone now dead, making it to your apartment was the only hope filling your heart. You prayed that Steve hadn’t waited up for you. You just wanted to be alone.

You fiddled with your keys as you approached the locked door. You didn’t realize how much your hands were shaking. You struggled for a few more moments, begging for the strength to get inside without crying, when the door opened for you.

“Y/N! I’ve been calling you for like an hour! Where have you been?” Steve guided you inside. He attempted to take your jacket from you, but you jerked his hand off of you.

“Don’t! Don’t touch me.” Your voice quivered at the end of your sentence.

Steve lifted his hands and closed the door behind the both of you. “Sorry, I didn’t – I – you’re soaked, hon. Did—did you walk here?”

You nodded. You felt overwhelmed, anger rising to cover your tracks. “Can you just fucking cool it with the questions? My phone died. I walked here. I’m wet 'cause it’s raining. Just—just leave me alone.”

You shoved him out of your way with your shoulder and stormed to your room. You had never acted this way toward him, toward anyone. People knew you to be kind, gentle, and sometimes blunt, but never rude or aggressive. But you felt that part breaking right in front of your eyes. You were confused. You couldn’t comprehend what was happening, that this was happening.

You plugged in your phone. You paced around your room for your phone to light up again. When your phone turned back on, you checked for his number. He had already blocked you.

Your lungs boiled. Your body vibrated with rage. The impulse to scream grew stronger and stronger by the second. So, you did. A guttural, soul-clutching scream escaped your throat. Tears stained your cheeks. You felt your destruction in your hands, transferring the havoc condemned to you to your room. You threw your books, kicked your chair, and flipped your mattress, bawling and yelling through it all. You punched your pillow over and over until hands gathered you in their arms. You fought the arms, but the hold was tight.

“Hey, it’s me. It’s Steve. Relax. I’ve got you. You’re ok. You’re safe. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

You sank into his touch and wept. Destruction left your body and devolved into devastation. Your body suddenly so heavy, you slumped to your knees, Steve following right behind you and still holding you close.

You couldn’t be sure how long you stayed on the floor of your bedroom. But Steve held you with the same force he did from the very start. He wasn’t going anywhere. You cried until you lost your energy, tears still streaking your face. You couldn’t even hold yourself up anymore. You were glad that you had Steve to lean on.

“How can I help?” Steve asked. You didn’t respond. You couldn’t process such an open-ended question. It seemed that Steve understood that. “Water is supposed to help relax people. What if I fill up the tub for you? You can rest in there, and I’ll grab some clothes for you. How does that sound?”

You nodded, not yet able to find your voice. Steve gently lifted you up, and the two of you walked to the bathroom.

You sat on the closed toilet as Steve crouched by the tub, testing the water with his hand. When the tub filled, he stood up and headed toward the door. “I’ll leave your clothes by the door, ok?”

He opened the door, and your stomach flipped. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Please, I don—Can you stay?”

Steve’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink. He closed the door behind him and nodded. “Uh, yeah, ok.”

The two of you sat in silence. You didn’t ask for him not to look. You didn’t start to change. You didn’t move, a haze falling over you. The weight of horror and defeat pulled you down.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes snapped up to Steve’s. “Sorry. I’m just tired.”

“Do you—would you like some help?” Steve’s voice shook as if you were made of glass and one misstep would shatter you.

All you could do was nod. You shuffled out of your jacket as Steve untied your shoes and removed your socks, still damp from the rain. He rose to his knees to meet you at eye level. He patted your arm, and you lifted them halfway into the air, as much as you could muster. Steve carefully pulled your shirt over your head, officially crossing a line the two of you never even toed.

And what Steve saw broke his heart. Blue and green bruises in the shape of fingertips wrapped around your neck. More, less cohesive shapes scattered across your chest down to the top of your hip bones where the waistband of your pants sat.

“Oh my god,” he whispered. He sat in observation, conflict brewing within him. The more he looked, the angrier he got. His shame screamed for him to look away, to salvage the friendship you both have and remain a ‘gentleman’. But the true friend in him wanted to document every bruise on your body, to share the knowledge in your pain, and to lighten the load in any way possible. This part fueled him to continue.

“Stand up for me, please.”

You paused. Your heart began to pound, and you found it harder and harder to breathe. You started to feel dizzy.

Steve took your face in his hands and had you look at him. “Breathe. You’re ok. Breathe with me. In…and out.” You matched the rhythm that Steve set and took deep breaths. You collected yourself under Steve’s gaze, but you were still a little overwhelmed.

“I’m here for you, ok? Whatever you need just say it. Need me to turn around, I will. Need me to leave? I can. But I think you need to get cleaned up, ok? You think you can do that? What do you need from me?”

You thought for a moment. Your brain felt jumbled, like crossed wires scrambling messages. Steve sat at your knees patiently while you considered what you wanted.

“Let’s—let’s just get it over with,” you sighed, a dry laugh forced from your diaphragm.

You stood up with what strength you had left, resolving to lean your body weight on Steve’s shoulders as he kneeled beneath you.

He wasted no time in unbuttoning your pants, desperate to not make a scene of it. He glided your pants to your ankles, and you stepped out of them while using Steve to balance. He stood up and guided you into the water. As you stepped in, the dried blood between your thighs sucked the air out of Steve’s lungs. Now he felt dizzy. Now he felt rage. He could only have guessed, but now he was certain. His eyes stung as he blinked back tears.

“I—I’ll be right back,” he said, turning away from you.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna grab those clothes for you. I’ll be right back. I promise.” He tore out of the bathroom, his tears now falling freely. He was gonna kill him. He was gonna kill that man if it was the last thing he did. He paced the halls debating on grabbing his bat. His blood boiled. Steve didn’t know what to do. He stormed into your room but was quickly reminded of the destruction that already took place. His temper cooled back down. You were his priority. You needed his attention. You needed him. He took a deep breath and collected all of your favorite cozy clothes.

He wiped his tears before knocking. A weak ‘come in’ responded. Steve opened the door. You had already begun draining the tub as you reached for your towel from your seated position. Steve grabbed the towel and pulled you up to your feet. He wrapped you up and did what he could to dry you. Then he helped you into your sweats and socks before guiding you to his room.

“What are we doing?” you asked.

“Well, your bed is kind of indisposed at the moment,” Steve chuckled. “So, you can sleep here for now, ok? I’ll be on the couch if you need me.” The truth was he planned on cleaning your room and putting it back together. He knew it was late, but a fresh start in the morning was sure to allow things to move forward a little easier, right?

“You don’t have to. I can sleep on the couch; it’s fine.”

“Please, I insist.”

“It’s your bed.”

“Well, then, at least stay with me. I want you comfortable. I want you to get some sleep tonight.”

“Are you sure?”

“Only if you are.”

“I think I’d like that, actually.” You tried to smile, but you were much too tired.

“Come on, then.” Steve smiled. He held your hand as he led you to his bed. He pulled the covers back, and you slipped in, Steve following close behind.

The room was dark and silent, two things that again began to trouble you. You stared up at the ceiling, trying to keep your composure. Steve, too, stared up at his ceiling fan, all too conscious of the space between the two of you, hoping you were comfortable, or at least relaxed enough to fall asleep.

“You were right,” you whispered, your lip beginning to quiver.

Steve’s ears perked up. “Huh? What do you mean?” He turned his body to face you, his arm propping up his head.

“You knew he was bad news. I should have listened.”

“No, no. No. You couldn’t have known. I didn’t know. You did nothing wrong. Okay? Look at me. You did nothing wrong.”

You nodded in the dark, the silence continuing to settle around you. You wanted to believe him; you really did. But fragments of memories struck your nerves, all too vivid and all so wrong to be truly convinced.

“Why did this happen to me, Steve?” Your voice broke. Steve pulled you into his chest as you cried for the second time this evening. He stroked your hair as he held you close, failing to keep his own tears at bay.

“I’ve got you, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’m gonna keep you safe from now on, you got that? You can count on me.”

“Thank you,” you whispered.

The room eventually grew quiet and still, the only sounds the heavy breaths leaving both of you. Steve kept his promise, holding you in his arms and keeping you safe the entire night.

#steve harrington x reader #steve stranger things #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington hurt/comfort #sexualassault #me too #platonic!steve harrington #steve harrington #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington x you #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x y/n

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cosmerelists · 27 days ago

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Cosmere Characters as Parents

As requested by anon. :)

If Cosmere characters who aren't currently parents (or who never got that chance) were parents, what would they be like?

1. Adolin

LOVES playing dress-up

Small child: And YOU'RE my servant, Radiant Princess Assassin Duelist! Adolin [solemnly wearing a princess hat and armor, carrying a large wooden sword]: I am at your service, Your Highness.

2. Siri

I'm seeing: Midnight Family Picnics.

Siri: Whose ready for Midnight Family Picnic?? Both kids: [cheering] Siri: Tonight we have a lovely assortment of sweet treats, assorted nuts for salt, and of course a Surprise Stew that the cook whipped up! Siri: Let's set up the tent, and we can get eating!!

3. Kaladin

Wants to support his kid in everything...but may be slightly overprotective

Small child: Dad, Dad look! I climb ALL the way to top! Kaladin: Wow! Great job!! Syl: Wow! I'm surprised you're letting him climb a rock that tall! Kaladin: Well, you know. It's good for a kid to get to explore and be fearless. Syl: ... Syl: Got him Lashed so he can't fall, huh? Kaladin: You know it.

4. Shallan

Has a little bit of trouble setting boundaries--she just doesn't want her kid to feel restricted, you know?

Teenager: See ya, Mom! Gonna go set a building on fire. Shallan: Hey, wait a second! Shallan: You got a good reason? Teenager: Yeah. Shallan: Got a plan to avoid being caught? Teenager: Of course. Shallan: Okay--have fun!! Radiant: ... Shallan: What?

5. Nikaro

As an emo guy, he of course ends up with a kid who is the opposite.

Akane: Are you wearing...a pink shirt with a heart on it? Nikaro: My daughter is obsessed with kawaii fashion. Nikaro: She wanted to style me. Akane: That also explains the sparkly eyeshadow. Nikaro: It does. Akane: ... Akane: Is your goth soul dying inside? Nikaro: Only a little.

6. Yumi

It feels inevitable that Yumi would give birth to a tiny Godzilla child.

Yumi: Look! Mommy made the stack sooooo high! Child: [shrieking with delight as they plow right into it, knocking it over] Yumi: [smile only slightly strained] A mother's love is a powerful thing.

7. Lopen

They say it takes a village, and Lopen definitely has that.

Sigzil: You know...I'm impressed by how well-rounded your kid is. Lopen: Ha ha! A Herdazian is always well-rounded--and very often round as well! Lopen: Every cousin teaches 'im something--he's learned to cook and talk quick and make friends and tell jokes and stick people to walls and all the things! Small Lopen child: [flips someone off] Lopen: He learned that from me! Sigzil: You don't say...

8. Tress

Raises her child on the high seas.

Child: [screaming a sea shanty at the top of her lungs while she swabs the deck] Ann: She getting punished for something? Tress: What? No! She just likes to sing and her favorite one is about swabbing the decks. Tress: I tried to get her interested in spores, but apparently that's not as exciting as swabbing the deck. Ann: [patting her on the back] Well, there's still plenty of time to share your incredibly dangerous hobby with your kid. Tress: Yeah, you're right!

9. Elend

Just doesn't want his kid to have a childhood like his

Elend: Wait a minute...are you reading that book after I told you that the thesis was juvenile speculation sprung from the mind of a man without two thoughts to rub together? Teenager: Yeah, what of it? I'm not gonna take your word for it! Elend: [sniffs] I-I'm so proud!

10. Vin

Just doesn't want her kid to have a childhood like hers.

Sazed: Wow so this is your baby, huh? Vin: Yup! Sazed: So....round. And happy. Vin: Yup! [The fattest, happiest baby you've ever seen gives Sazed a sleepy smile] Sazed: She's...perfect.

#cosmere #cosmerelists #Adolin #Shallan #Kaladin #Siri #Vin #Elend #Tress #Nikaro #Yumi #Lopen

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stardustdreams-andcaffeine · 2 years ago

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The Past That Haunts | Din Djarin

Din Djarin x fem!reader ✧ oneshot

Summary: It's been months since you stowed away on the Mandalorian's ship, running from the ghosts of a past you'd rather forget. You shouldn't have fallen in love, you knew better than to get close, and now you have to pay the penance for your sins. Your past has come back to haunt, and you're his next bounty.

A/N: Really really proud of this one. Should have been studying, but was doing this lol so you all better enjoy. As always, requests are open and I'll get to them when I can because college is insane. Love you all dearly, hope you have a great day wherever you are 🤍

Warnings: violence, sexual themes and suggestive content, mentions of blood, fem!reader, angst, fluff, happy ending I promise (i only like hurting you a little bit, not enough to take away the happy ending)

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No one can run from their past forever.

Lies, secrets, sins—they all have a nasty habit of breaking through the thin soil they've been buried beneath and rearing their heads. What was left behind never stays gone, but rather skitters behind in waiting for the right moment to revive. The past haunts, it stays connected to the essence of a soul and refuses death itself until its dues have been paid.

No one can run from their past forever, not even after you'd almost forgotten it was lurking right there.

And yet, the reason you'd nearly forgotten was laying unconscious in the midst of a hunt he'd dragged you along on.

"Mando, if you're done dreaming of me I could use some backup!" You shout, barely avoiding the clawed fist of the Trandoshan mercenary before you. The bounty was stronger and deadlier than you, but you were faster.

As you danced and weaved around his blows, your eyes slipped to your Mandalorian still unconscious from where the Trandoshan had snuck up on the two of you. This job was supposed to be simple, but even lower grade mercenaries like the one fighting you were still deadly.

With a breath of frustration slipping your lips, your mind quickly raced to try and work out how to get out of this situation. Mando clearly would be no help and while he often punched his way out of problems, you didn't have that luxury. That's why within seconds you whirled around to the mercenary with a nervous smile on your lips.

"My friend, I believe we got off on the wrong foot." Your smile was charismatic as you extended your arms out in welcome to the target. The mercenary snarled at the comment, and you both glanced down to the foot he'd just regrown after Din had managed to chop it off.

You look back up at the reptilian male, a sheepish smile on your lips, "Bad choice of words"

He hissed at you and lunged again, slashing a knife you hadn't even seen him pull. A yelp left your mouth as you dodged the hit, desperately trying to be diplomatic.

"Look, the Mandalorian is out cold," You placated, ducking out of a knife swing by a hair's breadth, "He's the bounty hunter, not me. You and I, we can work something out."

This caught his attention, his yellow-orange eyes tracking your every breath, "You're not a hunter, but you're with the Mandalorian. You wouldn't betray him."

"He doesn't have to know," You reason, shoving every ounce of honey-coated deception you have into your tone, "Look at him! One hit from you and he's out like a light, big guy. There's no way he'll even remember this happened."

The Trandoshan's knife was lowering now, and your heart skipped a beat with hope. This was going to work, and when it did you were going to give Mando hell. You nearly smiled at the thought, but remembered where you were.

"What are your terms?" He hissed, and you take a calculated step towards him.

"I let you go free, and you let me leave with my life." You were getting nearer to the bounty, and he seemed to be so caught up in pondering your bargain that he missed your hand slip to the beskar knife Din had made for you a few months back.

"That seems acceptable," The bounty finally admits, slipping his knife back into its place and surveying you, "I'll-"

With a war cry, you launch yourself at the Trandoshan and jump onto his back, one arm around his neck and the other trying to plunge the beskar knife into his thick, scaled skin. He roars in response, spinning wildly and clawing up at you.

"Just die!" You pant, slashing and seeming to miss every swing.

Din was right, you really did suck at this whole combat thing. It's a good thing you were one hell of a thief.

"Y/N!"

It took more effort than you'd like to admit to keep the relief you felt from crashing over your entire form. Your eyes flicked up mid-spin from your perch on the Trandoshan's back to see the Mandalorian stumbling to his feet.

"Morning, sleepy head! Wanna join the fun?" You breathlessly call out, a tired smile on your lips.

The target takes advantage of your split attention and slices his razor-sharp claws through the tender flesh of your forearm. You clench your teeth to grit through the pain, "Not cool!"

It was mere seconds after the minor blow had been landed that the wild spinning and thrashing of the bounty finally stopped. Your dizzy mind righted to see a gloved hand grab the reptilian male and rip him to a stop.

You slide off his back, groaning to find your balance severely off-kilter. You fall on your ass just as Mando fires a shot at him, slicing it through the target's shoulder and making him roar in pain. His cry is cut off when Mando fires another blast into his skull, making the silence following the thud of the body deafening.

"Cold it is," Mando grunts, holstering the blaster.

The beskar helmet he wears immediately snaps to you, and you've been around him long enough to tell by his body language what he's feeling. Anger, worry, guilt.

Against your better judgement, your heart stutters as Din crouches down in front of you and reaches out for your bleeding arm. The lightning that crackles under your skin as his gloved hands tenderly lift your forearm makes your already dizzy mind spin. It takes the strength you've built up over the last few months to ignore the effect he has on you.

"You waited for a grand entrance, can't say I'm mad," You quip. His shoulders are tight as he keeps his gaze down on your arm.

"I should've seen him coming," Is all he replies, his voice that same sugar-sweet gravel that makes your inhibitions crumble.

"You know, I had it under control until I accidentally made a joke about the foot you chopped off." You laugh, the sound light in comparison to the biting pain, and Din shakes his head.

"That's not funny." He tried to sound convincing, but you could tell he was loosening up now that he'd seen your injury was just a scratch.

"It's a little funny," You fire back, a smile growing on your lips. He looks up at you and that damn mask makes your heart race and your mind wander.

It's the almost imperceptible breathy laugh he lets out, though, that makes you remember how far gone you are when it comes to him.

"I like it when you laugh." Your words are soft, and they're out before you can even think to stop them. Mando goes still before you, your arm still in his grasp. It's then that the position you're in, with him crouched before you, seems much more intimate than it did a few minutes ago.

You go still as one of his hands lifts to your face, and you nearly forget how to breath when he almost absentmindedly brushes a gloved-knuckle against a light bruise forming on your cheek from the fight. His fingers leave fire where they touch, and you can only dream about how it would feel if it were his skin and not his gloves.

He catches himself too quickly for your liking and stands, extending a hand down to you, "Come on, we've got a bounty to cash in."

You take his hand and let him help you to your feet, "I think I deserve a larger cut on this one. I did take him on one-on-one, you know."

"And nearly got yourself killed."

You glance up at him, your brows lifted in a challenge, "I saved your ass, didn't I?"

Din doesn't move back an inch, but rather stays towering over you and cocks his head in response, "Is that so?"

Your heart stumbles yet again. The air is thick with tension and unspoken attraction, and the way he's looking down at you isn't helping. Din is usually as close to void of emotion as he can be, save for his temper and inability to keep from sassing you. It's moments like this though, moments where he's almost playful, that make you remember just how powerful the hold he has on you is.

"Can't deny it this time, Mandalorian." You try to sound cool and calm like he always does, but fail miserably. He just hums before stepping back and breaking the tension-corded air between you.

"Help me get him to the Crest."

And you do, but as you work in the comfortable silence you've grown used to, you can't help but think about how lucky you are. This life, it may seem dangerous and hectic, but it's a blessing to you. It's everything to you. He's everything to you, he has been since the first few moments he found you. There was a sudden tightness in your chest, and you can't help but think of that day—the day your life would never be the same.

||| Months Prior

Your breaths were labored, your legs burned, your vision was blurred with sweat and tears.

You had nowhere to go, nothing in the bustling port town on Corrida could shield you from your fate. Panic clawed up your throat, so thick it nearly choked you.

Not like this, you pleaded to yourself, it can't end like this.

Mind-racing and heart-pounding, you swiftly and nimbly darted in and out of shops and between buildings. You danced in the shadows, became one of them. It was your greatest strength, your stealth, and even though it was what had gotten you into this mess, it was now your only chance at survival.

The day was turning into night, and as light dwindled your hope flared and grew. Once darkness settled over the town shrouded by mountains, your pursuers would lose every chance of finding you. All you had to do was find a way onto a ship and ride it out of this forsaken planet. Then, you'd be-

"Hey, you!"

The voice that rang out sent tendrils of fear to your very bones. You knew that voice. You'd know that voice for as long as you'd live. While there were still thoughts in your brain, that voice would haunt you. You ducked around the alleyway between two shops, your heart racing at a painful speed as you chanced a look in the direction of your old Master.

"You seen a girl running through here?" He snarled, his tone boiling with anger that he thinly kept composed under his Imperial getup. The Empire was gone, but unfortunately the New Republic could not monitor every planet in every system when it fell. You just had the supreme misfortune of dwelling in the town of a group of Imperial officers that refused to back down.

"There's plenty of girls here, be more specific," The shopkeeper he'd asked grunted, going about his work.

Your Master spoke to him for a few more minutes before you forced yourself to slink away, melting into the shadows growing longer as the sky grew darker. As you snuck around the back of the buildings, you heard your Master's voice rise in volume.

"Anyone who finds an indentured woman in a green cloak is to bring her to me, immediately."

You froze, looking down at the cloak around your shoulders. With a pounding heart you shucked it off, cursing the Imperial scum for the clever tactic. Now if he saw you sneaking around, you'd have nothing to hide your face.

Indentured. You bristled at the word, anger flooding your mind. What a pretty way to say enslaved.

You had to get out of here and fast. The Empire might be gone, but this town was still pinned under their thumb. These people wouldn't think twice before turning you over. The satchel that was slung across your body was heavy with the reason why you couldn't let that happen.

With silent steps, you made it all the way to the ship port. There weren't many options present, and the choice would be paramount. Pick the wrong ship, and you'd be cast into the streets for your old Master and his troopers to find you and the item you stole from him that was nestled in the bag you bore.

As you surveyed the ship port, you noted three choices. First, the light freighter that sat loading its cargo near the middle of the port—too busy, too central. Second, the old Razor Crest sitting nearest you—low profile, but you could've sworn you'd just seen a Mandalorian walk into it. That was too risky, too dangerous. Third, and most appealing, the CR90 Corvette—no one dangerous was entering, enough cargo to hide in, it was perfect.

Making your mind, you begin to dart across the ship port, dodging past the Razor Crest and towards the Corvette. It would work, it would be perf-

You skidded to a stop so fast that you nearly tripped and fell. Walking up to the Corvette was your Master, and he'd just begun talking to the owner. Your eyes widened as he motioned to the three storm troopers with him, and they began to search the ship.

This wasn't good, you weren't going to make if off of this planet.

Your eyes wildly searched the port and landed on the Razor Crest just as its back hatch began to close. It wasn't ideal, but it was taking off soon, and that made it your only choice. Holding your breath, you surged towards the beat up ship and vaulted into the space between the closing hatch and the ship's interior. Luckily for you, the Mandalorian you'd seen was in the cockpit taking off when you clanged and rolled into the ship's belly. The engines started and the ship lifted, and before you could comprehend it, you were leaving Corrida.

You escaped. You stole from the Imperial guard Finon Kane, the man who'd enslaved and tortured you and hundreds of others, and escaped. You were free.

A laugh of pure and raw joy bubbled out of your chest as you clutched your satchel close to your chest. You'd done it, you'd actually done it. The other slaves had cheered you on as you made your grand escape, had laughed and whooped with you as you bested Master Kane. And now, you were free.

You barely felt the ship slip out of the atmosphere of the planet as you shoved to your feet. Now was the tricky part—you had to hide from the Mandalorian until he docked somewhere else, and then you could-

A strong, gloved hand closed around your shoulder and whirled you around with such strength and speed that you could only yelp as you were pressed into the cool metal of the Crest's walls. One massive arm barred your throat, and the other held a blaster to your head. The Mando's grip was strong and he oozed confidence, but he was silent.

Silent as death, silent as the reaper in beskar armor.

His shining helmet tilted at you, and your heart dropped to your feet. He hadn't killed you yet, he just kept looking at you, inspecting you, almost testing to see if you were a threat or not. So, he wasn't a cold-blooded killer then. There was a heart, whether it was flesh or beskar, somewhere underneath his armor. You needed to exploit it, and fast.

A shaking smile made it onto your lips and you tried your best to seem as calm as he was, "A Mandalorian, and one with fine armor too. What a pleasant surprise."

"What are you doing on my ship?" Was all he gritted out, his tone rough and smooth all at once. A walking and living dichotomy that, against your better judgement, made your heart trip over itself.

"Is this your ship?" You noted, humming to yourself as your pulse thrummed, "I must have boarded without even looking, it seems so much like mine that I-"

The blaster moved closer to your skin and your words died, your eyes widening as the Mandalorian stared you down through his mask, "The truth, stowaway."

It wasn't a question, but a demand. Flattery clearly wasn't getting you anywhere, so you needed to find a different way.

"I need safe passage," You honestly announced, your charming, hopeful smile still on your lips to persuade him you're not a threat, "And clearly, Mando, you need some help around here. I could be of service to you, I've got a great many skills!"

"Can you hunt?"

He didn't mean animals. That was when you realized this Mandalorian was a bounty hunter, and you cursed every star for crossing your fate into bad luck.

"No, but I-"

"Can you fight?" He interrupted, his voice a calm and collected drill.

"Well, not particularly, but if you'd just-"

"Can you fix the ship?"

You were getting frustrated now.

"Never really been good with mechanics, but-"

"Then you are of no use to me." He decided, letting go of you and holstering his blaster. He stepped back and shuffled through one wall of his ship, looking for something, "I'll dock at the next inhabited planet and turn you over to-"

It was his turn to be cut off, but not by you. Instead, the whooshing of a cabin door opening followed by a child's giggle makes his words die out. Surprise skittered through you at the site. A child. This large, rough Mandalorian Bounty Hunter was taking care of a...a child?

As he stormed over to the little thing, he muttered soft chiding to it before picking it up gently in the hands that just held your life. The child nestled into the crook of his arm, batting its massive eyes up at him lovingly.

And, against every warning and better judgement, your heart, your very soul, melted at the site.

"You're a bounty hunter with a kid?" You asked boldly, stepping forward towards the beskar-coated hunter that turned sharply around to you, the kid still in his strong arms, "And what do you do with it when you're on jobs?"

"He stays here or comes with me," he rasps out simply. You let out a short, unbelieving laugh.

"And you say you don't need my help," You chide, being bolder than you should be and stepping up to the pair. The Mandalorian freezes as you brazenly pluck the child out of his arms, cradling the little one into your torso.

The pure shock of what you've just done makes Mando stand awkwardly, unmoving and sputtering for a moment as he tries to respond. Whatever he's saying keeps dying on his tongue as he watches the child giggle and play with your hair, nuzzling into you the way he was just doing to him.

"I can take care of him while you're on hunts," You reason, looking up at the Mando with a bright, unwavering smile, "And, as I was going to say before you rudely interrupted,"

This shocked the bounty hunter even more. The audacity of this woman, who could neither kill nor fight, to be so bold with him? It struck him into an astonished silence.

"I may not have any of the skills you listed," You continued, looking up at the Mandalorian with his child in your arms, "But I'm amazing at sneaking into places. I'm not a killer, but I'm sure a bounty hunter like yourself could use a good thief."

He crosses his arms at this, cocking his head at you in a way that makes you imagine his face with risen brows and a taunting gaze, "Obviously the sneaking part isn't your strong suit."

"Hey, I got in here, didn't I?" You challenged, holding his gaze before looking down at cooing at the child, "Besides, your little one likes me, don't you sweetheart?"

"Could you give him back, please?"

"What was that?" You hummed, tilting your ear towards the child before smiling at it once more, "I couldn't agree more. Your father does need to lighten up."

The Mandalorian sputtered at her words, not understanding how a little thing like you could have rendered him completely speechless and without knowledge of what to do next. No hunt he's ever been on has ever done that to this extent, and yet here you were. A stowaway that, as much as Din wanted to ignore, needed help. You tried to hide it behind your smiles and remarks, but he could see the desperation in your eyes, the worry in your soul.

You needed help, and damn it all he was going to give it to you.

Din cursed himself beneath his breath, shaking his head at you. If the Guild members knew what a softie he was under this armor he'd lose his entire reputation. He could slaughter targets without faltering, but throw in a child and a smartass stowaway and his spine leaves him.

"I'm not his father," The Mandalorian rebuts, but you can hear the lie in his tone, "I'm just looking out for him"

You scoffed at that, "Leaving him alone, taking him on dangerous hunts? Not things a good father would do."

"Hey I'm a great father!" His temper snapped, and you smiled smugly. You glanced up at him, tilting your head the way he'd just done to you.

"So you are his father?" You challenged.

The Mandalorian started and stopped three different sentences before he let out a defeated grunt and walked towards a far wall of the Crest. He slammed his hand onto a button and the door whizzed open to reveal a spare bedroom with three cots. A hope-filled, bright smile lit up your lips.

He was going to let you stay.

"You can sleep here. You'll earn your keep how you promised, but what I say goes, is that clear?" He ordered, staring you down. Your smile widened, and you noted to your memory the soft side the Mandalorian had that you'd bet only a few people had seen.

"I can't thank you enough, Mando," You responded, and he could see that you meant it. You handed him the child and moved to set your satchel, all that was left of your life, in the room he'd opened.

"Don't mention it." His voice of gravel ordered, and you heard him walking away. You couldn't ignore the sense of safety that he radiated, especially because you hadn't felt safe like this in years.

Thinking he was gone, your smile dropped as you sank onto the cot and rested your head against the cool metal.

"I'm free," You whispered, almost to ensure it was real. A genuine, small smile worked its way onto your lips and into your soul, "I'm free."

The Mandalorian watched from the other side of the ship, and he couldn't help the way his heart tugged. He didn't understand why, but Din knew he cared more than he should have to make sure you stayed free, to make sure you'd smile like that again.

|||

You'd only meant to stay for a little while until you had enough credits and resources to make it on your own. And yet, here you were. It had been months and you still hadn't found a way to leave Din and the child.

He had found ways to make you stay. When he got used to your presence, he found that jobs often went easier with your expertise in stealth. The two of you became a team, and with the child it almost felt like...

Your mind stopped at the word that wanted to come next. Family. You hadn't had one in years, and it scared you because you knew you could do this forever. You'd begun to fall in love with Din Djarin the moment he'd picked up the child for the first time, and by now you were properly whipped.

Once the two of you had the bounty secured away, Din turned to you without leaving room for argument, "Sit down."

You did as he instructed, settling down on the cot in your room as Mando grabbed a med kit and walked back over to you. Even as he sat on the cot across from you, his massive frame shadowed your smaller one.

"Give me your arm," He said quietly, his voice sendings shivers racing down your spine that only worsened when he took your skin into his gloved hands.

He inspected it for a moment before humming, "It's not deep, it should heal quickly without bacta."

You were silent as he worked, something out of the ordinary for you and he knew it. As his skilled hands worked quickly, his modulated voice reached out to you, breaking the silence.

"What is it?"

You knew what he meant. Knowing that he could see through every lie you threw at him, you sighed and settled for the truth.

"Today...scared me."

The words surprised your Mandalorian as he went still before you, his hands faltering with the bandage for only a moment before he continued wrapping your cut.

"The hunt did?" He prodded. You shook your head.

"Seeing you lying there..." You began, and shook your head, the image stuck in your brain, "That's going to haunt me for a while, Din."

He tucked the end of the bandage in, and you kept your eyes down on his work. You couldn't stand to meet his masked-gaze, he'd see the emotion working its way through your eyes. One of his gloved hands hooks under your chin and tilts your head up softly to meet his gaze.

"You saved my life today," He said softly, his thumb brushing gently over your skin, "As much as I hate to admit it."

His words had their desired affect and you laughed softly, shaking your head at him as your soul lightened. Din was right, he was alive and well and it had a lot to do with you. The thought calmed you, but you couldn't hide the way it still scared the very depths of you.

"I should be apologizing to you," Mando started, but you cut him off.

"Din-"

"No, shut your mouth and listen to me for once." His voice was sharp, and it made you go silent with surprise. There wasn't cruelty or anger in that tone. Instead, you found it wavering with what you could have sworn was fear.

The Mandalorian moved his hand from your chin to hold more of your jaw, and with the movement you could hardly think straight, "I almost got you killed today. Had I woken up seconds later, you would have been that Trandoshan's target and not the other way around."

The words made your mouth go dry, and you tried to protest them but Din held you jaw with a gentle firmness and shook his head. It wasn't often that he preferred to do the talking, but you could see how bad he needed you to hear him.

"I'm sorry, cyar'ika. I'm so sorry"

You were stunned into silence. You'd never heard him say any of those words before, not sorry and certainly not cyar'ika. You knew what it meant, and it made your head spin. Slowly, so not to startle him, you lift your hands and rest them on the cool beskar of his helmet. He goes still and you can't help but smile softly at him

"There is nothing to forgive, Din."

His hand drops from your jaw and somehow finds its way absently resting on your waist. The touch sends fire shooting through you, and you have to blink a few times to focus.

"Besides, if I could count the number of times I almost got you killed..." You sentence ended naturally as you laughed softly, and he joined in. The sound was honey to your soul and it made you remember that you'd rather be here than anywhere else in the galaxy.

Much to your disappointment, he pulled away and stood surveying you through his mask, "I should go check on the kid. Get some rest."

And then he was gone, and you spent the rest of the night wondering what in the stars you were going to do.

|||

You docked at Tatooine soon after, the ship in dire need of a tune up.

The last few days had been strange. You'd thought the near death encounter would continue to keep the two of you close like it had that day in your room, but he seemed to be ignoring you at any and all costs. He only spoke to you when he needed to and even then it was clipped and short.

By the time you saw Peli, you were dying to slug him over the head with one of her wrenches.

"Well, well, if it isn't my favorite band of three," The mechanic greets, jogging out to meet you with a smile, "Where's my baby?"

Mirroring her smile, you handed the kid over to Peli who eagerly tucked him close, stroking his long ears and cooing to him softly, "I only tolerate you two for him, you know."

The two of you knew better.

"Can you watch over him for a few hours? We have business here." Mando gruffly stated. You furrowed your brows and glanced over at him.

Business? He hadn't mentioned that to you. Then again, he barely mentioned anything to you these last few days.

"Go, go," Peli shooed, already turning around and walking with the kid back to her lodgings, "He and I will make sure the Crest is all fixed up, won't we precious thing? He loves his favorite aunt, doesn't he?"

Aunt, which would make you and Mando his...You brushed away the thought, not letting it bring you hope or joy. You smiled once more at the mechanic before following Mando as he quickly exited the hangar.

"What business do we have?" You asked. He almost seemed like he was not going to reply before he did so without even glancing at you.

"You'll see."

Your patience was waning, but you went along with it nonetheless. You hadn't been walking long on the desert planet before Mando ushered you in a bar nearby. The business ended up being nothing more than a job hunt, leaving you confused as to why the Mandalorian was being so stand-offish. He'd collected a new round of pucks and then left you to spend your evening alone however you pleased. You didn't know where he went and you didn't quite care. He was being an asshole to you, so you could return the favor.

You returned rather quickly to the hangar and the Crest, finding there was nothing better to do. After a few hours of cards and gambling with Peli and her droids, Mando still hadn't returned and you decided to go ahead and tuck the child in for the night. Bidding you friends goodnight, you hoisted the kid into your arms and climbed the hatch to the Crest.

"What's going on with you father, hm?" You asked softly, bouncing him in your arms. He stared up at you with wide, dark eyes, drinking in every word you spoke.

You walked him over to his makeshift bed, sighing as you settled him in it. You spent a moment longer tracing a finger down his wrinkled skin, a saddened look flickering in your gaze.

"He's going to be the end of me," You whispered, and could've sworn the kid's eyes softened on you. You leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his brow and walked out of his room, "Sweet dreams, little one."

When you shut the door, your eyes traveled to the bandage still tied securely around your wounded arm. Although Mando assured it would be alright, it hurt like hell. You made your way into your room, grabbing a med kit as you went. You set the kit down on your bed and opened it, about to tend to your would when you heard footsteps and then the hatch closing to the Crest.

Your heart leapt into your throat and you stepped away from the med kit and out of your room, your eyes traveling over the ship until you saw the flash of beskar in the dark, "Finally, you were starting to worry me."

"I'm sure I was," came Din's response, but his voice made you freeze.

You watched in shock for a moment as he turned and stumbled slightly as he walked towards where you stood. With wide eyes, you barely could speak, "Are you...drunk?"

The Mandalorian came closer to you, his massive body making you take a few steps back. He kept advancing until your back was pressed against the cool metal of the Crest's wall.

"Din," you whispered, your heart racing as he stopped before you, settling his forearms above your head and caging you in. You could hardly think straight with him like this.

"Close your eyes, cyar'ika." His voice came, low and rough and gentle and slurred.

"Din, what-"

"Close your eyes." He ordered again. With him this close to you, your inhibitions were all but gone and you did as he asked, shutting your eyes. Before you, you could hear him let out a long sigh.

"I was thinking," He started, followed by the moving of his arms away from the wall. You furrowed your brows at the absence of his presence, but before another thought could leave, you heard a sound that made your heart stop and your mind go blank.

You heard him take his helmet off.

"Din, you're drunk-" You couldn't make it past that before he was cutting in. He's never taken his helmet off around you, it was the creed. It was his life. He'd regret this in the morning.

"Shut up." He murmured, his body heat returning close to you. Your eyes stayed firmly shut as he told you too, that way it wouldn't break the code he lived by. You felt his hands touch your neck softly and jumped slightly in surprise at the absence of gloves, "I know what I'm doing. Just keep your eyes closed, mesh'la."

His skin. His skin was touching yours.

Your breathing hitched, and you knew when he settled those bare, rough hands onto your jaw that he did so in a manner to feel the thrum of your pulse in your neck. It was wildly racing, quicker than it ever had.

"I was thinking," He started again, running his thumbs over your skin and forever ruining you from contact with anyone else ever again, "That you almost died."

His low voice had taken on an edge of sadness and you nearly opened your eyes out of habit, but forced them to stay closed.

"You almost died, and I never got to know what those pretty lips of yours tasted like"

What in the stars was happening? Was this real? Were you going to wake up and find it was all a dream in a few moments? Or was this finally putting the last few days into context? Even after your talk, the hunt had messed him up and haunted him just as it had you. And now here he was, his breath fanning across your skin and his lips almost brushing against yours.

You never imagined this would happen, not in thirty lifetimes did you think you'd ever know what it would feel like to press your lips against Din Djarin's.

And yet, in the next second, you knew.

Without warning, he captured your lips with his and pressed his body against yours, keeping you against the wall. He grabbed your hands in one of his, pressing them together over your head to keep you from touching his face. As his lips worked desperately, hungrily, passionately against yours, your knees buckled and his free hand slipped around your waist, keeping you from falling.

This had to be a dream, it had to be. This couldn't be real, but it was. You knew that he was drunk and that he'd probably not remember this in the morning. You tried to pull away, tried to force yourself to stop but he held you fast, crushing your body against his and making you forget your own name with his tongue in your mouth.

You didn't want it to end, but you knew it would have to eventually. It would end and you would have to go back to pretending like you weren't in love with him.

As if you'd brought it about by just thinking it, Din's lips left yours. He wasn't kissing you, but he stayed so close that his nose touched yours.

"I'm sorry," He breathed, his lips brushing against yours.

And then he was gone.

You stood there with your eyes closed long after you heard his bedroom door shut. You cursed every star in the sky, because now that you knew what his skin felt like, every moment without it touching you was pure and unbridled torture. This torture was worse than any you'd felt under Master Finon Kane and his troopers.

When you slept that night, you dreamt of Din's lips on yours.

|||

In the morning, you didn't know whether or not Din was going to continue ignoring you, address what happened last night, or pretend like the last few days haven't even happened. When you greeted him in the belly of the ship and he he greeted you the same as he has for months before heading off to find bounties, you realized it would be the last option.

Anything was better than the blatant ignoring, but having him act normal around you was horrific in itself.

"Hey little guy," You greet the child, a smile on your lips as you reached down and stroked his ear. He giggled up at you just as the Mandalorian walked up the hatch and into the Crest.

"So," You began, watching him set down the bag of pucks he collected in town. He goes still for a moment, but keeps his helmet firmly away from you.

"So," He repeats, sounding utterly anxious but trying to play it cool. It makes humor curl in your gut and you decide to push you luck.

"What's the plan for today?" You ask, and from the sigh he lets out you can see he was expected something regarding last night.

"Picked up some pucks in town, we can go through 'em and see what we can do." He responds. You nod, reaching down a hand and letting the child play with you finger.

"So getting drunk isn't in the cards, then?"

The sharp intake of breath from the Mandalorian nearly makes you crack with laughter. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep your humor at just the smile on your lips.

"No." Din replies gruffly.

"That's a shame," You sigh, looking up at him finally to find him already facing you and the child, "I like drunk you. He's fun."

"I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry." He states, making your humor dissipate in record speed. You hold his beskar-covered gaze for a moment, feeling the phantom scrape of his calloused hands on your skin and the touch of his lips to yours.

"Which part?" You ask, holding your breath in a way that made it clear whatever he said next would cement something between the two of you. He stays silent for a long while before walking up to you, the child between the two of you. He reaches down and strokes the kid's head lovingly before looking to you.

"Which part do you want to be the mistake?" Din whispers, the gravel of his tone silky smooth as it caresses you. He's playing with you, you suddenly realize. You played with him with the drunk comment and he's playing back, testing to see which of you will break first.

You have to smother your smile before it can make it to your face.

"Careful Mando," You respond, your tone barely stable, "You've got a clan of two to protect. I-"

"Three."

He interrupts you with such a sure, calm voice that you almost miss what he says, "What?" You whisper, your teasing gone.

"Three," Din repeats, "Clan of three."

Before you can respond, a nonsensical babble from below makes the two of you look down to see a confused and yet very aware child. His smalls hands are holding your fingers and Din's hand is on his ear, and for a moment it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

But then you and Din come to your senses, and you mutually decide to push off the game of testing the tension until it breaks again.

"We should go through those pucks," Din states, walking away and to the sack he set down earlier. With a smile that you're glad he doesn't see, you wonder how much longer you can go without telling him what he really is to you. You repeat what he said to you in your mind.

Clan of three.

Mando dumps out the bounty pucks, sorting through them as you lean against the wall, your arms crossed and giving your input with each one he clicks open.

"Another mercenary, set on Naboo." Mando announces, the picture of the target hovering over the puck. You click your tongue.

"After the Trandoshan, I think we should take a break from mercenaries," You advise, earning a nod of agreement from Din. He sets the puck aside and grabs another, clicking it on.

"This one's on Tatooine, but I think I'm ready to see something besides this desert planet," The Mandalorian notes, and you hum your agreement.

"Trees would be nice, like on Felucia" You add, an absentminded smile growing on your face, "Or maybe a nice water planet."

"Water and this armor don't go together, mesh'la"

You smirk at him from your spot at the wall, "All the more reason to go."

His sudden laugh is enough to make every sorrow remotely near your mind melt away. Everything is back to normal, everything is going well, everything is beautiful.

Until he clicks open the next puck.

That's when your world comes crashing down.

The silence that settles over the cabin is thick and unlike the comfortable one you are used to. Mando goes as still as death before you, his body taught under his armor. Horror, real and true, washes over every fiber of your being.

Because that's your picture on the bounty puck, and the one who put it out is Finon Kane.

No. No. This isn't real, this isn't happening.

Din says your name, slow and guarded.

No, not when everything was perfect. Not when you'd found your family, your clan.

You begin to shake your head, all of those years of torture and darkness roaring through your mind. You'd just begun to forget it all, truly forget it all.

But you guess it's true what they say, you really can't run from your past forever.

"Y/N, what-"

You're shoving through the Crest towards your room, leaving Din in stunned silence until he comes to his senses and follows.

"Where is it, where is it, where is it?" You mumble, blinding panic tearing you apart as you rummage wildly through your belongings. It only takes a few seconds before your hands close around your satchel, and your chest doesn't loosen even an inch when you lift it and find it still heavy with the item that is dooming you.

You clutch the satchel close and sling it across your body, standing to leave your room only to find Din blocking the path with his massive body.

"Cyar'ika, what's going on?" His voice is commanding as usual, but it holds an edge of panic that you can't deny.

You feel like a cornered animal, and your fingers clutch the strap of your bag tightly.

"Mando, move." You plead, moving to go around him only for him to grab your shoulders and pull you back.

"No, Mando move!' You beg, pulling against his hold, "Din please."

"Stop it!" He orders, holding you fast, his chest heaving with worried breaths. He stares at you for a moment before it seems to click in his mind, "What were you running from?"

You know what he refers to, you mind zipping back to that moment when you stowed away on his ship. Your silent for a long while, your panic not lowering an ounce. You've always felt safe with Din, always. You long to tell him everything, to let him help you because you know he'd never hunt you. You'd feel safe, but you wouldn't be safe.

The Mandalorian couldn't protect you from this, but you could protect him from it.

"I stole something," You whisper, your voice barely above a breath, "And my old master won't stop until he has it and me."

"What did you take?" Mando asks, his tone flooded with calculation as he tries to figure a way out of this, "If we hunt him down first, we can-"

"Din," Your voice breaks as you cut in, placing one hand on the beskar chest plate and longing for the feel of his skin again, "My reaper has come for me. And I can't let him take you too"

Before he can get out another sentence, you use your free hand to search in your satchel until your fingers close around the cool metal of what doesn't belong to you.

Then you pull out the lightsaber you stole and crack the butt of it so hard against the Mandalorian's helmet that he drops to the floor, unconscious.

He taught you that move with a blaster.

And now, you've saved his life with it.

You stand for a moment in silence, your heart slowly shattering in your chest as you look down at the love of your life. Tears cloud your vision, and you look up to see the child looking at you with confused eyes. You break, a sob wracking your body as you bend down to the Mandalorian's slumped body grip his gloved hand, pulling it up to place a kiss to his palm.

"I'm sorry," Your words mirror his from last night, and then you're pocketing the lightsaber that once belonged to the Empire and running out of the Razor Crest.

You're now his bounty, and if he knows what's good for him he'll let this one go.

Let you go.

||| Din Djarin

When the Mandalorian awoke, he was alone.

There was one heart-breaking moment of confusion as he sat up from his slumped position on the floor. It wasn't silent, but there was something missing in the array of noises. There was no laughter, no yelling. There was no light-hearted remarks, no sarcastic punches.

There was no her.

The thought jarred him so deeply from his newly-conscious muddled mind that he shoved himself to his feet, his heart pounding so loud in his chest that he could feel every thrum.

This wasn't happening. She wouldn't have just left, she wouldn't.

He stumbled out of her small room, his gaze wildly shooting around the Razor Crest. The child lay exactly where Din remembered, right before...

What the hell happened? How did he-

The memories came back in a rush—the hand on his chest that had distracted him as her other hand grabbed something from her satchel, something metal and cylindrical. She'd hit him with it, whipped it across his head like he'd taught her. She must've gotten the blaster...no, it wasn't a blaster. It was...it was...

Stars

A lightsaber. She'd stolen a lightsaber all those months ago.

The thought made his head spin and it took a great deal of effort to keep his knees from buckling. Whenever she'd spoken of her past, it had been vague. Mentions of an Imperial encampment even after the Empire's fall, the shoving of her city into slavery, the torture she endured at the hands of her master.

The very thought made him clench his jaw. The first time she'd spoken about this Finon Kane, he'd wanted to find him and slaughter him with his bare hands for ever laying a finger on her. And now...now he had a bounty on her and Din wasn't there to protect her.

The thought spurred him back into action. Din scooped up the child into his hands before rocketing down the hatch of the Crest and towards where Peli worked with her droids. The mechanic seemed slightly nervous, almost as if she was avoiding his gaze.

"Mando, off to do a hunt?" She asked, trying to sound casual and failing. Din didn't falter as he walked up and shoved the child into her arms. Peli startled as she took the kid, looking up at Din with wide eyes. She couldn't see the Mandalorian's face, but it was clear to anyone the pure, guttural rage tangling with a panic he's never known.

"What-"

"Where did she go?" He demanded. The mechanic sputtered for a moment, holding the child close.

"I don't know what you mean," Peli tried, and Din almost growled.

"Peli if you don't tell me where she went I will rip your tongue out," Din snarled. The woman looked at him desperately, her gaze torn.

"She told me not to tell you, Mando. How do I know you're not going to..." Her words died out and it took every ounce of Din's restraint to keep from yelling again.

"Hurt her?" He finished for the mechanic, his voice just as lethal when it was quiet, "She's in danger, Peli. Real danger, and if you don't tell me where she went someone else is going to find her first and she'll...she'll-"

He could't get the words out, couldn't hide the panic flooding his tone. Din didn't know what he'd do if someone else found her first, he couldn't even comprehend that she wasn't with him right now. He didn't think he'd ever have to know what it felt like for her to be absent. The mechanic softened immediately, letting out a long sigh.

"She didn't say exactly where she was going," Peli finally admitted, holding the kid tighter, "Just that she needed to get as far away as she could as fast as possible. When I asked, she said something remote, something green. She took the spare ship in the hangar an hour ago."

Mando didn't need an exact answer to know where she was going, he knew. With a brisk nod of his head, he gestured at the kid as he walked towards the Crest, "Watch him for me?"

Peli nodded, "Of course. Do you think she'll...do you think she'll be okay?"

The Mandalorian stopped, looking over his shoulder slightly so that the mechanic was in this peripheral vision.

"If she isn't, I'll burn the planet down."

With that he was getting on the Crest, his heart hammering in his chest and fear, real fear, flooding every part of his being. He shut the hatch and practically vaulted into the cockpit. Din threw himself into the captain's seat and swiveling to face the control panel. He didn't hesitate as he put in the coordinates. She mentioned trees earlier, and he knew the way she thought, knew she was smart enough to go somewhere with more jungles than cities right now.

Felucia.

He'd go, he'd find her, he'd knock her upside the head for running away from him, and he'd get her back.

And stars help anyone he’s found has so much as touched her.

||| You

It was strange, being on the run again.

Even though it hadn't even been a full year since you last were sprinting from your reaper, it has felt like a lifetime because of your company. Time slowed down with Din Djarin, and for a long while you felt safe, protected, home.

And now you were scrambling around, planet to planet, in the dark alleyways and through dense, uninhabited forests to put distance between you and...

You stopped for a moment, your back pressed up against a tree in the rich, winding forest of Felucia. Who were you trying to put distance between?

Finon Kane, his squadron of stormtroopers, and the only real family you've ever had.

That last one sent a spear of heart-wrenching pain racketing through you. Typical, so very typical, to find something so worth having and to think the galaxy would let you keep it. This galaxy was cold and cruel, it was a better thief than you'd ever be and you knew it, you knew it. And yet you let yourself get close anyways. It's a strange thing what love can do. It made you reckless enough to think that for once, just once, the galaxy would let you make it away with what you found.

It turns out you aren't as good of a thief as you thought, because the happiness you stole has been returned, and your time playing at a good life has run out.

You picked up your brutal pace again, trekking through the jungle and refusing to stop for even the barest of needs unless it was unavoidable. This would never end, this hunt. As you moved, the lightsaber in your bag banged against your hip, reminding you of what had gotten you into this mess in the first place.

You shouldn't have taken it, you really shouldn't have, but you couldn't stand to watch Master Kane take another slave's life with a weapon that didn't belong to him. He'd found it in the rubble of the fallen Empire and he thought he was entitled to it. It had been used as a weapon of terror during the Imperial rule and then after because of your master, and taking it? You'd not only done it so the weapon could be given back to the New Republic where it belonged, but because after everything he'd done to you, after all of the scars you bore because of Finon Kane, you'd wanted to hurt him. You had wanted him to feel every ounce of pain and desperation you had, and for that cause, you were willing to pay the price that was now due.

The jungle-covered planet would do well to hide you for a little while, give you time to gather up some credits in case you needed to run again. You walk around a grove of trees, the jungle beginning to thin the closer you get to a city. As you do, a sound you're all too familiar with makes you stop dead in your tracks.

A steady beeping, consistently increasing as it gets louder.

A tracking fob.

You barely have time to scramble around to the back of a thick tree when a blaster sounds out behind you, singing the side of the tree where you'd just been standing.

"Come on out, thief! I get more credits for bringing you in alive." The gruff voice of a bounty hunter wafts out to you, a hint of smugness in her tone.

Your mind is grappling for options as you sprint away from your tree and towards another thicket up ahead. Your feet are silent on the grassy floor and you deftly miss any roots in your path, so the bounty hunter doesn't notice you at first. When she does, it's made known by the firing of the blaster at your back.

Gratefully, the hunter has horrible aim.

Blast after blast burn into the trees around you, so you continue to stick close to them as you run. How the hunter found you is incomprehensible, but you don't waste time worrying about that matter and sprint for your life towards the city that thrives just outside the jungle's end. The only tricky thing would be making it across the large clearing between the end of the trees you were approaching and the city gates up ahead.

"Get back here!" The hunter shouts to you, falling further and further behind.

You allow the hint of a smile, but don't dare to slow down. The end of the jungle is growing nearer, and it's only a minute or so of sprinting before you're at the city g-

Another bounty hunter steps out from around the last tree in the clearing, a blaster held lazily in his hands. You skid to a stop so suddenly that your feet slip on the floor and you have to catch yourself with a hand to the jungle floor to keep from falling on your ass. You whirl around to go back the way you came only to come face to face with the other hunter ho had already been pursuing you approaching, her chest heaving with breath but her blaster lifted nonetheless.

"Nowhere to run, thief," The one behind you lilts, his voice heavy with experience and sounding almost bored, "Surrender now and I'll let you keep your life."

"I saw her first, the bounty's mine!" The first hunter grits, her eyes flicking from your face and to the hunter behind you. You turn halfway to keep them both in your vision, your heart pounding in your chest.

"You would've lost her if it wasn't for me," The other counters, both of their blasters lowered slightly. You would make a run for it, but you're directly in the middle of the quarrel, and they'd have you dead in seconds. So, you do the only thing that can save you, the thing you've wanted to do for months now.

You pull the lightsaber from your satchel, clutch it in both hands, and turn it on.

The argument between the hunters dies as a burning blade, as red as death and blood and anguish, ignites into the green of the forest. The two colors clash, one seeming wrong with the other, but you clutch it nonetheless and move before they can lift their weapons again.

"That's a..." The male hunter stands shell-shocked, his words dying as he watches you advance on the female hunter who has already begun firing at you.

You're clumsy with the foreign weapon, but her bad aim and you're mild understand of how to move the saber allows the blasts and blade of the same color to clash as they collide, saving you from the death her weapon assures.

Her weapon may bring death, but yours is death.

She nearly blasts your head off, but you manage to shove the lightsaber through her middle before she gets another shot out. Her strangled gasp followed by the thud of her body into the ground nearly makes you falter, but the sound of the other hunter approaching snaps you out of your own mind. It was you or them, you assure yourself.

You'd wounded the other hunter quickly, grounding him before turning the saber off and sprinting for the city ahead. As you did, you shoved the blade into your satchel and barreled through the open gates, the merchants and travelers bustling through gasping and yelping as you shoved through them. The second you were inside, you stopped running and allowed yourself to meld into the crowd, walking in their flow and moving in their manners. It was mere seconds before you were blended into their midst, the only difference between you and them being your heaving chest and singed clothes from a blast or two that got dangerously close.

You thought you'd made it out before a figure shot out of the alleyway you were passing.

A gasp left your lips as they grabbed you and tugged you inside faster than you could comprehend. Before you could reach for the saber in your satchel, the bag was ripped clean off your shoulder, nearly dislocating the limb in the process and making a cry of pain leave your lips. The sound couldn't even make it fully out before you were being pressed against the sand wall of a building with the steel edge of a blade at your throat.

Your eyes were wide and wild as they took in your surroundings—two hunters surrounded you expectantly, not counting the one holding you at knifepoint. They must have agreed to a split bounty and a temporary alliance.

"Check the bag," The one holding you grunts out. On command, one of the two standing around you searches the bag he'd ripped clean off, his hand rummaging through until a sickening smile lit up his lips. Slowly, he pulled the lightsaber out.

"It's here." His response was smug and nauseating. You knew this was going to happen, but you thought you'd have a least a bit more time before it did.

"Haven't seen a real lightsaber before," The other muses, the two of them in the back looking over the silver and gold-plated handle, "You're going to make us rich, girl"

"Give it-" You struggled against the hold of the hunter only for the knife to cut down into the tender skin of your neck, making your words collapse into a breathy cry of pain. He kept the knife embedded slightly into your skin, his eyes boring into yours as a smirk captured his lips, "Move again, and I'll knick an artery on accident. Then, we can see how long it will take for the life to drain out of your eyes."

The word accident rolled off his tongue with a promise, and you fought back a shiver of fear. The press of the burning steel in your flesh was agonizing, and you realized all at once that you were going to die. Whether it was here and now with this group of hunters or when they handed you off to Finon Kane, you were going to die.

The thought made your body grow suddenly cold.

You'd spent so many years thinking that you'd never have a family again, that you'd never know what it meant to love and be loved. It became your bleak reality, and then you quite literally stumbled into the two individuals that would become your entire world.

It was selfish of you to stay, so damn selfish. Deep down, you had known that Kane would put a bounty on your head, that he'd find you one day and make you pay for every bit of trouble he'd endured because of you. Yet you did it anyway. You stayed and you let yourself grow attached beyond hope.

You let yourself fall in love, and that was possibly the worst of the sins you'd committed.

And, just like the other sins, you had thought you could run from that one, thought its penance would never arrive. Now here you were, facing death at the hands of those in the very same profession as your Mandalorian while he was far away on Tatooine, probably wondering what had gone wrong. You knew you'd hurt both him and the child by leaving, but you would rather they be hurt and alive than dead.

"Now," The one holding you announces, stepping back and easing the knife out of your throat, "It's time to bring you to your master in top shape."

You barely had time to register the warm blood trickling down your neck from the cut of the hunter's knife before his fist was cracking against your cheek. The force of the unexpected blow slammed your head into the wall and brought you crashing to the ground. Your groan was just out of your mouth when the next blow came, this one to your ribs. A cry of pure agony slipped out as a loud crack resounded amongst your rib cage with the powerful kick, making tears collect in your eyes.

You felt utterly helpless as you desperately tried to lift yourself off of the ground, but you were so tired. You were utterly exhausted, and it took every ounce of your strength to pull out your beskar knife and slash the tendons along the back of one of the hunter's heels. Purple blood sprayed and he shouted, collapsing to the floor beside you.

"Get back here, you little bitch!" One seethed, grabbing you by your hair and yanking you up to your knees. Before your eyes could focus on where he was, you slashed with your knife. He must have seen it coming because he grabbed your wrist in a bruising grip.

"Drop the knife," He growled, one of his hunter companions still on the floor clutching his ankle and the other standing by the one who held you, the lightsaber handle in his hands.

"Give me the saber," You bargained breathlessly, your voice crutched with torment.

The hunters didn't like that very much, and the one holding the saber slammed it against your cheek. You took the hit with a groan, enough pain already crawling through you that you barely even felt it.

"This isn't a negotiation," The one holding you gritted, "Drop. The. Knife."

It was stupid, and you knew that you should just listen at this point, but you couldn't stop yourself from lifting your chin stubbornly and holding his gaze, "You'll have to break my hand."

"With pleasure," He snarled, his grip tightening on your wrist. Before he could snap it, a low, modulated voice rasped into the alley.

"Break her hand, and I'll make sure your death is the slowest."

You shut your eyes instantly, your shoulders loosening with both relief and agony. He'd come for you. Din had found you, and you couldn't stop the bittersweet feeling crashing through your soul. You wanted to hate him for it, wanted to scream at him and knock the sense of your desertion into his brain. But you knew you weren't capable of hating Din Djarin, not even if you wanted to. Especially not now as he stood like a dark angel in the entrance to the alleyway, glowering with rage wholly directed at the hunters left standing.

"This is our bounty, Mandalorian," The one holding the lightsaber sneered, "Find another-"

He was dead before his sentence could complete, his neck twisted at a wrong angle from where Mando had snapped it with his bare hands.

That made the one holding your wrist let go of you instantly.

"Y-You can have her, she's all y-yours Mandalorian." He stumbled back, running into his downed companion who had finally managed to limp to his feet.

Din didn't respond as he stooped slowly, grabbing the lightsaber and slipping it along his holster. He was as silent as death as he stalked up to you, his beskar clinking slightly in the tense silence. You were still on the floor, your skin bloody and your heart pounding so fast you thought it would burst. You wanted to crash into him and hold him, never letting go. You wanted to let him take you back to the Razor Crest and help you figure all of this out. You were safe with him. But he wasn't safe with you, and neither was the child. You had to protect the child, you had to protect Din.

The two remaining hunters were frozen in terror, trapped in the dead end alley like cornered prey. Din stopped in front of you, his mask peered down at you as his hand reached out. Much gentler than you could even imagine, his hand softly gripped your chin and tilted it upwards and to the side so he could see the blossoming, nasty bruise on your cheek.

His gentle fingers were in a fierce dichotomy with the rigid, furious posture of his body. Mando slid them down, leaving lightning where he touched as he lightly traced the cut in your neck. Your gaze locked with his mask, and he held it for a long minute. Then, he dropped his hand and cocked his head over at the two hunters.

"Which one cut you, cyar'ika?" His voice was dark and tender all at once, and it sent a shiver racing down your spine.

"The one limping," You responded without hesitation, your eyes up on him as he nodded once and began to stalk towards the two hunters.

Confusion rippled across their features, and the one who hadn't cut you was quick to shove his ally in front of him. Their loyalty only ran monetary, and even though you knew it wouldn't save his life he had to try.

"What are you doing? I t-thought you were a hunter!" The hunter who the Mandalorian had his sights on was shaking with terror, and it brought you a wicked sense of justice.

"I am."

The next few moments passed in a mess of beskar and knives and blood. The last remaining hunter could only watch in horror as Din ripped his colleague apart with a confidence that could make any skilled fighter wary. The man's pleas and cries were shrill, and the people on the main road were wise enough to keep walking as they passed.

Then, it was quiet. And Din turned to the last hunter pressed against the wall across from you.

"No, please. I'll tell you anything you want, I'll give you anything please!" He begged, but his hurried words were cut off by Din's hand on his throat. He tugged the hunter close, his beskar helmet splattered with blood.

"If you find anyone taking her bounty, tell them what happened here. Make sure they know they will suffer the same fate. Understand?" Din's tone was taught with thinly veiled anger, and you could tell that it was an effort to keep from killing the man.

The hunter nodded briskly, his eyes wide and his legs trembling. When the Mandalorian finally released him, he was sprinting out of the alley, leaving a tense silence to settle over the two of you that remained. Din turned towards where you still sat on the ground, and as he walked over you were suddenly aware of the conversation that was about to happen, the anger he was about to rain upon you.

Mando extended a hand down to you, which you took and gladly accepted his help as you stood. Your hand gingerly pressed against your cracked rib, every breath and every minuscule movement sending sharp, shooting pain through the area, "You alright?"

"I will be," You nearly whispered, you eyes locked onto his brooding, helmeted stare. There was only mere inches between the two of you, and you knew that if you stayed this close, you wouldn't be able to leave again. You went to step back, but he tightened his hold on your hand enough to keep you close.

"Let me go," You breathed, the words meaning more than just physically.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Din gritted out, his voice conveying the worry and hurt and anger that his mask hid. His voice broke your heart.

"Din, you have to let me go." You were almost begging now, and you could feel the tears welling in your eyes. He shifted his hold so that he was holding both of your hands, probably to keep you from reaching for the saber at his belt.

"Not again," He vowed, his usually collected voice portraying how barely bridled his emotions were, "Not until you tell me why the hell you left me."

You were silent for a moment, trying desperately to find a way to speak without showing just how deeply this was shattering your heart, your soul.

"Did you really think I would turn you in? That I would collect your bounty?" Din asked finally, his voice breaking.

"No," Your shaky voice finally began to work, growing stronger by the moment, "That's the thing, Mando. You wouldn't, which means when these hunters came looking for me, they'd find you and the child."

"You think I can't protect you?"

"Din, I have never known safety until I met you," You swore, the tears collecting in your eyes beginning to fall, "But the man who's hunting me, Finon Kane? He will stop at nothing until he has me and the lightsaber. If I had stayed, I would be giving you and the child a death sentence."

"Y/N, you're staying with me." The Mandalorian asserts, his voice trembling. You shake your head, your tears falling steadier now.

"Din please, you have to leave me here. Protect the child, it's your duty. You have to forget you ever knew me, forget I was ever with you, forget me."

"You think I could do that?" He cuts in abruptly, tugging you closer to show the urgency and truth of his words, "You think I could ever walk away and just forget you?"

His words were dangerous, and you tried to stop him, "DIn-"

"You have ruined me, ner cyar'ika. Every moment I spend away from you is torture, it's a moonless night that never ends."

His words leave you breathless, your eyes wide and your heart stumbling in your chest as you try and fail to find a response. He won't let you speak, though.

"The child and you? You are my clan, my family. You two are all that I have, and I am nothing without you," He's so close now that you can almost hear the unmodulated tone of his voice. Din lets go of one of your hands to rest at the base of your neck and bring your head close to his. What he does next...it's a moment that will forever be etched into your brain.

He brings his forehead to yours, and he leaves it there for a moment. The cool metal of his helmet bleeds into your skin, and you can't stop the soft gasp that leaves your lips. You grab onto his beskar-plated chest for support because you know what this is. On easy nights, Din would often sit and tell you stories of the Mandalorian culture. He spoke once or twice of the Keldabe kiss, a gesture meant to show love and affection. The meaning of this moment was not lost on you, and it nearly ripped out your heart to think that he could...that he could love you back. He possibly loved you and now you were about to die.

"I'm not leaving you," Din murmured, the cool beskar of his mask pulling away from your forehead. You felt the cool metal of something pressing into your hands and you look down to see him handing you the lightsaber, "We'll end this together."

You couldn't look away from him, couldn't bring yourself to walk away again. You were being selfish and stupid, but with what just happened, with what Din had just said, you couldn't leave him.

You simply nodded, "Okay."

Din nodded as well, stepping back from you, "Okay."

There was a moment of tension between the two of you, a moment where each was waiting for the other to say something more, to mention those three words that had yet to be spoken. You watched him walk towards the alley exit, following slowly behind. He'd begun to say some sort of strategy, but you weren't listening. You didn't know what was going to happen next, you didn't know how much time you had. You needed to say it, and you needed to say it now before you lost this chance.

"Mando?" You cut in, making him pause and look over at you as you entered the streets of Felucia, "I love you"

The Mandalorian froze, his muscles going taught. The bustling world around you seemed to dull for a moment, and all that was left was you and him. Your heart pounding in your chest and you felt your breaths getting shorter and shorter as you waited for his response.

You heard Din take in a breath to respond, but someone beat him to it.

"So this is what you've been doing all this time."

It was your turn to freeze, and your gaze was still locked on the Mandalorian's as your eyes went wide with fear, with terror. You knew that voice. You'd know that voice if the galaxy ended and then begun again a hundred times over.

Slowly, you turned to face Master Finon Kane and the six storm troopers that flanked him.

"I believe you have something of mine," Kane cut straight to the chase, his troopers making quick work of clearing the street while he stood not ten paces from you. Your fingers tightened around the handle of the lightsaber still in your grasp, and you saw Kane's eyes dart down to it.

"Hand it over now, and I might consider killing you. Your Mandalorian doesn't scare me."

There was no hiding the blatant horror inundating you. Those words, you knew what they meant. You preferred death to what you knew life with Kane would promise. Staring into his eyes, you were reliving every moment of pain you'd endured at his hands—every beating, execution, and humiliation, they haunted you.

You didn't know when Din had moved to your side, but you felt the nudge of his body next to yours, and it knocked you from your spiral. He was letting you know that he was there, that he wasn't going anywhere. And, looking at the odds, you could honestly say that the two of you had fared worse.

“Stand down and I’ll make your death quick,” you fire back, your voice surprisingly strong. Kane barked out a laugh as the six troopers fell into line behind him.

"You can't kill me, pet. You know it and so do I." With a flick of his fingers, his troopers were moving, two next to Kane and four fanning out in front of us.

"I know that," You responded quietly, but not weakly. Your fingers barely brushed against Din's hand, the movement so small it was imperceptible to those before you, but the way his fingers touched yours gave you the assurance that you were about to make the right move, "But he can."

The troopers couldn't even raise their blasters before Din and you moved on them. The next few moments were a blur, shining beskar and frantic blasts missing their targets as Din cut down the troopers with ease. You could hear feel the blast of the fire caster on his wrist as he incinerated two more.

He had four dead before you could even turn on the lightsaber.

Your eyes shot to Kane's, whose were wide with shock and a bleat of panic when he saw your hands move to grasp the lightsaber before you.

"Don't-"

His cry died in his throat when the red saber born of a bleeding, hate-filled kyber crystal ignited before you. You barely new how to use it, but it wasn't difficult to shove the burning side into the armor of the troopers.

Then, it was silent.

Din sauntered up beside you, standing tall and strong with his helmet cocked intimidatingly at Kane. You didn't turn off the lightsaber, but let its red light cast a vengeful glow across your features.

"You think you're so clever," Finon Kane spat, his desperation betraying him, "You think you could so easily b-"

His words were cut off by the hiss of a lightsaber meeting flesh, and something in your chest loosened as you looked up from where you had shoved the saber deep into his belly. Your old master's eyes were wide and his mouth gaping. He was shocked, he really hadn't thought you could do it.

"For every friend of mine you slaughtered," You grit out, shoving the lightsaber an inch deeper and making him cry out in pain, "Their souls are avenged."

He was dead before his body hit the ground, and you simply sheathed your lightsaber, looked to your Mandalorian, and walked away. You didn't realize that you were trembling until the two of you walked outside the city gates and Din's hand grabbed onto yours, large and warm and sure. The Razor Crest sat waiting ahead of you, and you nearly buckled and sobbed in relief.

"It's over," You whispered, you eyes dazed and your words no more than a breath as the gravity of what just happened crashed over you.

You stopped walking in front of your beloved ship, turning to face Din as he did you, "I'm...I'm free"

You let out a breathy, wild, joyous laugh and launched forward, wrapping your arms around the Mandalorian's neck. He paused only for a moment before you felt him melt into you, his hands slipping around your waist and holding you closer than life.

"Thank you, Din," You whispered, your words a vow and a prayer, "I am forever in your debt."

His hold on you tightened, one hand slipping up your back to hold more of you to him, "You owe me nothing. Your life is yours to hold, you are no longer in the service of any master."

Tears you hated to acknowledge slipped down your cheeks, and you were glad to be pressed so close to him so that he couldn't see them fall. He knew, though. He knew.

You didn't want to pull away, didn't want to know again what it felt like to be away from him. Eventually, it could not be avoided. You wanted to get on the Crest and fly away from this place, to bring your life back to the normal you'd fallen so deeply in love with, the one with the child and the bounties and the adventure and him. Especially him.

"Now," You announced, your tone light and jovial as you pulled away and looked up at Mando with a smile, "Where's the child? I'm sure he's been miserable without me,"

You began to walk up to the Crest, but you hadn't realized that the Mandalorian hadn't followed you until his voice called out and made you pause.

"He's with Peli, safe and sound."

You stopped in your step and turned around to see Din walking slowly up to where you stood. Something in his tone made your heart jolt. Your voice was no more than an unsure whisper when you spoke next, "That's good."

Din hummed, and the sound made every thought abandon your mind. He stopped in his gait when he was just in front of you, but not as close as you thought he'd be.

"Are we going to...get on the ship?" You asked, for the first time unaware of what he was going to do next.

"We will," He finally responded, taking one step closer to you and suddenly making you realize why he'd left the room that was quickly dissipating. He was torturing you, playing with you, and once again uncaged butterflies swarmed your insides, "But first, I want to talk about what you said earlier."

His voice was low and smooth and sure, in direct contrast to your trembling one as you tried to act cool. He was making you squirm and he loved it, "You'll have to be more specific, Mando."

Din took that last step closer to you, nearly closing the gap as he tilted his masked face down at you in a way that had your head spinning, "You know what I'm talking about, mesh'la."

You grappled for a response, you really did, but you didn't know what to say, didn't know how you could possibly respond cooly to that.

"Look at you, finally the speechless one." His voice was taunting and you could hear the smile in it. He grew more serious as he slowly pulled off one of his gloves and achingly slow brought his calloused hand to brush against your cheek. His skin on yours again almost had you buckling to the ground.

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar'ika," Din's words blanketed over you with such a tenderness that your mind raced to understand what they meant. You didn't have to think long, because Din held your chin and brought his beskar-masked forehead to yours, "I love you too, sweetheart."

In all the years of captivity under the Imperial rule on Corrida, you never thought you'd hear those words again, I love you. They were sacred and seldom spoken, and you had stopped hearing them long before your family was taken from you. And now here you were, pressed close to Din Djarin, a Mandalorian whose ship you stowed away on in pure coincidence, and you were hearing those words be said to you in a way that no one had before.

His voice was quiet and playful as he leaned closer to your ear, "And I've got plenty of ways to show it once you get your ass on the damn ship."

Din stepped back from you and turned, walking to the Crest as if he hadn't just promised you everything you've been dreaming of for months. With your pulse thrumming wildly, you followed after him.

"What about the lightsaber? We need to return it to the New Republic," You called out.

The hatch opened to the crest and he walked in without looking back, "They can wait. I can't."

Your cheeks were warm with a blush as you followed him into the Crest, and you couldn't help but wonder how you'd gotten this lucky, what you had done to deserve this. You didn't know, but all you knew was that you'd waited for long, torturous years to have the freedom of forever, and here it was. Here he was. Din Djarin was your forever, no matter how long the breath was left in your lungs.

Your past had finally died, and the ghosts had stopped haunting you. Your present was now your future, and you'd never look back again.

#the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin oneshot #din djarin angst #din djarin fluff #mandalorian oneshot #the mandalorian x reader #din x female reader #din x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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flowerandblood · 1 year ago

Text

Rip my heart, heal my soul

[ Jack the Ripper • modern!Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, stalking, violence, mention of murder and body mutilation, manipulation, obsession ]

[ description: Driven by his hatred of women, who in his opinion are mere whores, Aemond delights in killing them when they least expect it - during their rapture with him. He meets a girl whom he chooses as his next target, but it turns out that this time he is the victim of a feeling he has never known before in his life. Murder, mutilation of his victims, obsessive, poetic, dark!Aemond. ]

This oneshot is an Anon Request and is created with Halloween in mind, so unlike what I usually write, these fisc will be very dark and uncomfortable. Keep this in mind before you start reading.

Next chapter: Rip my heart, heal my soul (2)

Aemond Inside Alphabet

*English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy!*

My others works: Masterlist

_____

He hated how two-faced women could be − with what ease they pretended to be sweet, innocent, warm, looking at him with dreamy eyes, only to fuck him a few hours later in their flat, moaning loudly like butchered animals.

Whores.

He loved to see their expressions of surprise when they suddenly felt a fishing lines tighten around their neck as he fucked them from behind − he smiled broadly choking them, pleased to hear them stop making those sickening sounds, trying helplessly to grab air in their lungs.

Only then did he cum into a condon with a loud sigh of relief.

He loathed them.

He abhorred them.

Women like them laughed at him when he was in highschool, after he lost his left eye − they avoided him, calling him a cyclop, considering themselves superior, beautiful inside and out.

He knew how simple their mechanism of action was − all they had to do was meet a well-built, mysterious, charismatic man and they were all wet, suddenly forgetting about his artificial eye, ready for him to fuck them anywhere and any way.

They wanted to be the unique ones, the special ones.

They kept repeating to him that "they weren't like other girls" and he looked at them with a smile, nodding.

He'd gouge their eyeballs out of their eye sockets, grinning to find that it suited them to look like this − suddenly they seemed to be some kind of terrifying beasts, demons from the innermost abysses of darkness that had come to devour him.

He quartered their bodies with cleavers, packed them in great black sacks into which he placed stones and drove many hours ahead, finding some lake into which he threw their remains, their empty shell, as he liked to think of them.

His first target was his schoolmate who mocked him, but then he began to observe women and girls outside clubs, hunting down those who behaved similarly, pretending to be inaccessible, hard to get.

He knew this was nonsense, a cover for a guy to want to try harder.

Because of what he did, he changed his address frequently, catching light seasonal jobs. Mostly he was employed in cafés, because there he could observe people, often finding new targets. Women would frequently pretend to come to work there with their laptops, but would glance at him surreptitiously, checking if he was looking at them.

One day he heard the ringing of a bell hanging over the door and felt hot in his chest at the thought that this girl was perfect.

She was wearing an oversized pastel jumper, light-coloured shorts and mid-thigh-length woollen socks, her hair partly pinned back − a typical sweet pastel girl making big eyes, thinking he didn't know who she really was.

Whore.

She smiled warmly at him as she approached the counter, but he didn't reciprocate the expression − he looked at her expectantly, throwing a cloth over his shoulder in a gesture of impatience.

"Good morning. A large hot chocolate, please." She said softly, pulling her small rucksack off her back, searching in it for her wallet.

As she opened it, looking in it for banknotes, he saw out of the corner of his eye a student card from a university an hour away from their town.

He pressed his lips together, thinking it was a perfect match.

He scooped her order onto the till and glanced down at her − she reached his shoulder height.

"Anything else?" He asked indifferently and she shook her head, undeterred by his coolness she was still smiling.

Stupid bitch.

"No, thank you." She said calmly, and he told her the amount she had to pay. She placed in front of him exactly as much as he had said, and he walked over to the machine and busied himself filling her order.

"Did you come here on holiday?" He asked her, standing with his back to her.

He heard her move uncomfortably, surprised by his question.

"In a way." She said lightly, but added nothing more.

He handed her a cup and she took it from him − she looked him in the eye and thanked him, then sat down by the window, setting down her chocolate, pulling a laptop from her backpack.

He wandered between tables cleaning them and collecting orders from other guests, glancing at her screen out of the corner of his eye each time, wanting to find something that might give him a clue as to who she was, what she was doing.

He saw that she was constantly typing something in an open text document with quick, sure movements, clicking loudly on the keyboard, taking a sip of chocolate once in a while. When their gazes met she smiled at him, but immediately went back to work again.

Despite his hopes that she would order something else, after half an hour she packed up and left, wiping her table with her handkerchief beforehand and bringing him her empty cup, throwing over her shoulder to wish him a good day.

He felt all tense and bit his lower lip, knowing exactly how he would spend the evening.

As soon as he walked into his flat, he opened the internet browser on his laptop and typed in the name of her university − it was a private institution of higher learning, so she either had to have an outstanding academic record or a great deal of money.

Another fucking nepotistic child, he thought with amusement and mockery.

He started browsing the university's website, its Facebook page and Instagram hoping to see her somewhere, but found nothing. The only thing he found out was that the university specialised in the humanities, psychology, history and literature.

That would explain why she wrote so much.

He felt impatience and frustration when she didn't come for days, unable to concentrate, thinking only of her.

Standing outside the clubs, smoking a cigarette, he caught himself not observing what was going on around him at all, replaying for the hundredth time her visit to the café − her smile, her cordiality, the fact that she had cleaned up after herself so he wouldn't have to.

He knew it was all just a shell, underneath which there was only disgusting meat.

He couldn't hide the gleam in his eye, the grimace of satisfaction that ran suddenly through face and disappeared a moment later when he saw her again in the doorway of the café − this time she was wearing a summer blue dress, her hair tied up in a braid.

She walked up to the counter and ordered the same hot chocolate again with a sweet smile.

He felt he needed to start any light conversation.

"Wouldn't you prefer something cooler for such a hot day? We have freshly squeezed juices." He suggested, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

She cocked her head, curious, and hesitated, involuntarily pressing her lips together.

He looked at them, at their pink, fleshy, moist structure, at her graceful, long neck, and swallowed loudly, feeling the pulsing in his trousers at the thought of tightening the noose around it.

"Do you also have orange juice?" She asked softly and he nodded.

"Of course." He replied.

"In that case, I'll have the juice." She said, taking out her wallet again − this time his attention was caught by the small photos she had slipped into a translucent pocket, a picture of some boy, a dog and an older man.

He wondered if she had a boyfriend and furrowed his eyebrows as he pressed half an orange to the juice squeezer, recognising in his mind that this would complicate things a lot.

He set the glass in front of her and took the banknote she handed him.

"Thank you very much for your suggestion." She said lightly, with a wide, warm smile − she moved ahead to the same table as before and took out her laptop again, starting to type something.

He circled around her for half an hour until he finally decided he couldn't stand it.

He walked over to her table with a cloth and spray, pretending he had to wipe the top − she picked up her laptop, wanting to help him and make some space.

"Do you work even on holidays?" He asked her indifferently, and she blinked, surprised by his question. She grunted quietly, correcting herself in her seat.

"I have to publish academic articles if I want to keep my place at university. But I like doing it." She said, shrugging her shoulders, not even a trace of displeasure on her face. She put her laptop back on the table when he had finished, and he analysed quickly what she had said.

So it was a scholarship after all, she wasn't paying tuition fees.

"What are you writing about this time?" He asked, feeling that this was his only chance.

He glanced at her nervously, wondering if he was crossing the line or being too persistent − she lifted her warm gaze to him and cocked her head.

"I'm writing an article on the prose of Edgar Allan Poe. Do you know him?" She asked lightly, and he involuntarily bit his lower lip at her question.

Prose in which men cut out their beloveds' entrails, collected their teeth, confessed poems over their cadaverous faces, professing infinite love for them, raging with desire, with despair, with the darkness that was tearing them apart.

Of course he fucking knew him.

"Yeah. It's a pretty dark choice." He admitted, looking at her, recognising with surprise that it didn't match either her clothes, her manner or her personality.

She giggled at his words, placing her elbows on the tabletop, not taking her bright gaze off him.

"It is true, however, there is something captivating about him. His darkness is filled with pain, his inner struggle, as if he still lived in agony even when he loved, even when he seemed happy. Each of his poems, each of his stories, is a dark work of art that I could analyse endlessly. He is an inexhaustible source of inspiration for me." She finished her explanation.

He stared at her with his lips pressed together, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen and the painful throbbing in his trousers at her words, thinking that he was about to throw himself at her like an animal.

She was perfect.

"Which of his stories do you like the most?" He asked finally, feeling with surprise that his voice trembled slightly, his heart pounding like mad.

He had the feeling that he was looking at her as if something possessed him.

She thought about his question, lifting her gaze upwards and hummed under her breath.

"Black Cat. This is his first story I've read. I couldn't get over it, had trouble sleeping afterwards. I promised myself I'd never go back to it again, but I couldn't stop thinking about it and ended up reading the whole book." She said with a smile and some kind of excitement.

"And yours?" She asked, continuing their exchange, and he felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought that he had succeeded.

He had intrigued her.

"The Fall of the House of Usher." He whispered, thinking of the woman locked in the coffin alive, unable to get out, whose moans were heard by her own brother, but he chose not to help her, horrified by what he had done.

He thought that perhaps he too could lock her up like this, keep her for himself, only not underground, not in a coffin, but in his arms.

He shuddered when an impatient customer called out to him if he was going to serve her, and he gave her a furious look.

"Of course." He said lowly, walking up to her, asking what he could help with.

Usually if someone frustrated him so much, spoke to him in the way she did when she paid him, complaining about his tone of voice, the way he looked at her, he would find her and do to her what he did to everyone else.

However, now that he had met her, he didn't want to have to change his residence again and decided to hold back.

He saw with a sting in his heart that she had closed her laptop and started packing.

He didn't want her to leave.

She approached the counter and he felt a squeeze in his throat, his whole body tense.

"I'm very sorry this woman treated you this way. I worked as a waitress last year too and I know what a thankless job it is. Don't worry about it. See you later." She said lightly and waved at him.

He led her away with his eyes, watching as she disappeared around the corner, throwing him another happy smile.

From that moment on, he felt that he was completely crazy about her.

He stopped going under the clubs and stalking other women, deciding he didn't need to waste his time with whores when he found her, his Berniece, Morella, Eleonora, his muse, his dark inspiration, his elusive lover, the object of his desire and desperate, hot affection, his obsession.

Never before in his life had he felt so wonderful.

He had the impression that his insides were filled with fire.

After what she had told him, he realised that she must have been studying fiction − he searched for academic works published on the internet about Poe's poetry, hoping to come across her name by chance.

He was not mistaken.

He involuntarily licked his lower lip as he typed another name into the browser and her Facebook profile picture came up.

He bit his lip as he entered her profile, seeing that apart from basic information he couldn't see anything else. However, he already knew that she was three years younger than him and that she was in fact studying fiction.

He went back to her article, starting to read curiously, wanting to see if she really was that good, if her words weren't just haughty, populist feminine gibberish.

The Black Cat is the story not of a madman who murdered his cat in an act of rage. It is the story of a progressive illness and trauma, a proceeding inner agony and schizophrenia that the main character is unable to cope with − his mind and his feelings measured against his animal aggression, his desire to vent his urges and frustrations purely physically. He begins to lose his memory, able to wake up suddenly in a different place, not knowing what he was doing a few days before, losing his grip on reality completely. It is very likely that the other cat he sees does not exist at all − it is merely a figment of his imagination, his remorse, his progressive illness. The protagonist, falling into a spiral of his own madness, is unable to distinguish between his imagination and reality, terrified and filled with aggression, like a feral animal he collapses into himself, eventually leading to tragedy, in his madness walling up his beloved wife. We observe a phenomenon of slow dehumanisation − the protagonist discarding piece by piece all sorts of brakes that on a daily basis stop us from sudden, brutal, cruel acts, leaving only pure reactions, filled with anger and frustration. Despite his actions, the reader, being inside the protagonist's head, involuntarily sympathises with him, understanding that he cannot control how his own mind, that he cannot stop the inevitable, that he is doomed to fall apart completely.

He swallowed loudly, feeling the dryness in his throat, stroking his chin with a nervous, anxious gesture of his fingers, wondering why his heart was pounding so hard, why he was so tense.

He thought that he felt as if she had written about him, as if she had looked into the depths of his inner emptiness and described with tenderness and care what was happening to him.

He bit his thumb thinking that he felt understood, not judged, that there was warmth emanating from her text and what she wrote.

He thought with horror that he might have fallen in love with her.

He waited for her every day, taking more shifts at work than he had to, afraid that he wouldn't be there that day when she came again.

He felt a tickle in his fingers at the thought of seeing her again, of talking to her again, of looking at her soft, happy face.

When, a few days later, she walked into the café in a black top and shorts, he felt immediately what he saw in his trousers, ready to fuck her in his back room.

He thought he couldn't treat her that way − she hadn't done anything through which he should show her such disrespect, treat her so objectively.

She approached him with a light, pleased smile, her eyes shining with joy − he thought, feeling heat in his chest, that she was glad to see him.

"Good morning. I'll have the same delicious juice as last time, please." She said in a calm, warm voice.

He swallowed quietly, the corner of his mouth twitching in a shy smile, which didn't escape her notice.

"Coming right up, ma'am." He said softly, and she blinked, shifting from foot to foot.

He had the impression she was blushing.

She lowered her eyelids meekly, her eyes covered by a veil of her lashes, looking down at her hands.

He tried to focus on his task and prepared her juice, handing it to her as she gave him a banknote.

"Further article writing today?" He asked her in a calm, light tone.

She nodded.

"Yes. Would you like to read it? I want to hear other people's opinions. Maybe you could give me some advice, or hint at your observations." She said softly, with no undertone or attempt to flirt in her tone of voice.

This turned him on even more.

"I would love to. Unfortunately, working here, I won't have as much time to sit down and read everything at once." He said uncertainly and she waved her hand, smiling broadly.

"I don't mean to disturb you while you're working. Give me your email if you want, I'll send you my file." She said with a smile and he nodded, pulling a piece of paper from a drawer and quickly wrote down his address, feeling his hands quiver.

He couldn't find the words with what excitement he was waiting to hear from her.

He paced around his flat taking deep sips of coffee, feeling the adrenaline coursing through his veins, his heart pounding like crazy.

He refreshed his messages once in a while, and when he finally saw a mail from her he sat down rapidly, opening it quickly.

Hi, thank you very much for deciding to devote your free time to me and reading what I have written. Feel free to write me what you think, perhaps you have some comments or suggestions. I am sending a PDF of the article as an attachment. Greetings!

He swallowed loudly, immediately opened the document she had sent him and began to read − this time she was dwelling on Poe's love literature and he felt hot at the thought.

She wrote about how he describes women in his prose, seeing them as phantoms, statues, demigoddesses, elusive to him, being his constant object of boundless adoration bordering on madness.

He agreed with everything she wrote, but one thing caught his attention. He thought for a long time how to put his thoughts into words so as not to scare her away.

Hi, you've done a wonderful job, I'm very impressed. It's great to read what you write and I agree with almost everything you've written. However, I am puzzled by the wording you used when you question the sincerity of his feelings, assuming that what the protagonist felt towards his women was not in fact love, but only an obsession for an unmatched ideal − that he did not see human form in her. I disagree with this statement, looking at the fact that when she ceased to be this ideal, when she died his interest in her did not diminish, his feelings did not fade and his despair, but widened. I think his obsession stemmed from his emotionality, from loving her too much, from not being able to draw a line, sinking into his feeling instead of taming it. I hope you don't find what I've written upsetting and don't take it as criticism. Once again, very well done. Greetings.

He sent it at last and stood up, walking around his living room as if in a trance, on the one hand filled with euphoria that he had had contact with her, that he had been able to talk to her, on the other terrified by what he had written, that he had evinced in those words a hint of who he himself was, that he had shown her too much.

He started to feel anxious when he didn't get any reply for half an hour and literally threw himself at his laptop when suddenly an unread message from her appeared glowing white in his inbox.

He clicked on it quickly and began to read, licking his lips.

Your observation is quite interesting and I partially agree with your statement. I think it is true that a feeling on the part of the protagonist cannot be ruled out, as his inner dilemmas often concern matters of beauty, his remarks on the smallest details of their appearance or behaviour that rejoice him every day. Indeed, perhaps my assessment was too harsh. What I mean is that I believe − but this is my subjective opinion − that when it comes to true love, even when it is wrapped in obsession, the safety of the beloved person should be the overriding thought, the priority − and yet sometimes the protagonist chooses his desire, his psychosis at the expense of the object of his adoration, who, after all, he supposedly loved. If I were to be loved, I would want to be able to feel safe and not wonder every night if my beloved would clamp his hands around my neck and strangle me, whispering that he loves me.

He felt a shudder seeing her last sentence, reading what she had written again and again, feeling the heat in his chest, his heart pounding like crazy, feeling the tension in his trousers, his erection pulsing hard in shock.

If I were to be loved, I would want to be able to feel safe and not wonder every night if my beloved would clamp his hands around my neck and strangle me, whispering that he loves me.

He thought that he would never hurt her.

That he would make her feel safe, kissing every inch of her beautiful, soft body with adoration every day, enclosing her in the embrace of his arms, protecting her from the darkness of the whole world, including his own.

He didn't know what he should answer − what she had written seemed so private, intimate, his hands hovered over the keyboard in uncertainty.

If he could he would find her, go to her and not fuck her, but make love to her all night.

He would have cuddled her close and whispered reassuringly to her with each deep, peaceful thrust of his hips, stroking her soft, warm skin, sinking his hands into her hair, drawing in her scent with his nose.

He quickly unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers, putting his hand under the material of his boxers − he grasped his throbbing, hard manhood between his fingers, the tip of it already leaking with his wetness.

He began to jerk himself off with quick, aggressive slaps of his hand against his balls, panting hard, closing his eyes, thinking about what he would do to her, how tender he would be, how much he wanted to be affectionate, for her, just for her.

He came with a low, helpless groan, panting loudly, resting his forehead against the top of the desk he was sitting at and swallowed loudly, concluding that he had never felt anything like this before in his life.

He took a quick shower afterwards, thinking hard about his answer. He sat down in front of his laptop in only his trousers with his hair still wet, opening the window beforehand and lighting a cigarette, taking a drag thoughtfully, then began to write.

In this case, too, I have to agree with you. You don't really love someone if you can't protect them from themselves. The protagonists fight each other and fail, but does that mean that they didn't really love, or however, is it simply madness that prevails, the fear that fate will take their beloved away from them, so in order not to feel that fear anymore, they end their life first? Whatever it is, they are driven by despair.

He finally wrote and sent the message, letting the smoke out loudly with his mouth, shaking the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray standing by his computer. He received a reply from her after about fifteen minutes and managed to make himself a cup of tea in the meantime.

I think that's the key word in understanding their dilemma. Despair. Their beauty, their wonderfulness frightens them − they can't bear how much they love them. They are despairing that while their affection may be eternal, their bodies are not so, cruelly destroyed by time, that every second brings them closer to their death. This realisation seems unbearable to them. I will amend this paragraph and expand on what we have been talking about. Thank you very much. Will you be at work tomorrow?

He blinked, reading the last sentence, pressing his lips together, writing back quickly.

You're welcome, it's been a pleasure. Yes, I will.

She wrote him back after a moment.

In that case, I'm glad. See you tomorrow!

According to what she wrote she came the next day. This time it was he who smiled at her first, and she reciprocated the expression, walking up to the counter with a light step.

"The article has been sent. Thanks to you I think it's perfect. If you don't mind, I would like to invite you to a temporary exhibition at the museum as a token of my gratitude. It concerns neo-Gothic illustrations for horror novels, including Poe's, and I thought it might interest you." She said, lowering her gaze with a kind of embarrassment, playing with her fingers.

He felt a shiver ran down his spine, his legs suddenly as soft as cotton wool.

Was she asking him out?

He swallowed loudly at the thought, feeling like his heart would burst out of his chest.

"When?" He asked, glancing down at the glass he had just poured her juice into, feeling his hands trembling.

He saw out the corner of his eye that she lifted her gaze to him, hearing with hope that he hadn't declined her offer.

"And when do you have the day off?" She asked softly − he could see that she was smiling, embarrassed and happy at the same time.

He felt a squeeze in his stomach at the thought.

"Tomorrow."

Women often invited him to meetings and he came to them with relish, braiding them into his web, but this time he was terrified and flustered inwardly, outwardly maintaining his icy mask.

He combed his fair hair back, put a black turtleneck, black trousers and a watch, and decided he looked good enough − elegant but at the same time not pompous.

When he arrived at the agreed place she was already waiting for him in front of the entrance, waving at him − she was wearing a light summer strapless dress, a small rucksack on her back, part of her hair braided at the back of her head.

She ran up to him with a smile and they stood in front of each other, unsure of how to greet.

"Hi. Here, this one is for you." She said, handing him his ticket without suggesting a hug or a handshake.

Her approach was very open, but physically she kept her distance.

The fact that he couldn't touch her was driving him crazy.

They both walked into a beautiful neo-baroque building that must once have been a small noble residence and followed the signs. They stepped across the creaky wooden floor into a black room, lit only by spotlights set on each of the works on exhibiton.

For the most part, they were etchings and lithographs with depictions of agony, death, loving embraces, figures full of anxiety, ghosts, symbolic scenes, executed with great precision and care.

They both bent over each work, looking at it carefully, not rushing anywhere, wanting to analyse exactly what they were seeing.

"Amazing how artists can capture the spirit of prose, isn't it? Looking at it I immediately feel what the author wrote about, the same anxiety even though I don't have the text in front of me." She said quietly with some kind of admiration.

He listened to her but had trouble concentrating, smelling the pleasant scent of her girlish, floral perfume.

"Mmm." He hummed under his breath and nodded in agreement, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. He saw that she was looking at him too and they both turned away, embarrassed.

He couldn't help himself − his hand involuntarily burshed hers as they moved on to the next piece of work − he felt her flinch, but she didn't move away.

He heard her quietly draw in air as his fingers tentatively intertwined with hers, feeling like his heart was going to jump out of his chest. He pressed his lips together as her fingers spreaded, allowing him to grab hold.

They watched further.

He didn't let go of her hand then or when they left the building, talking about what they'd seen, pretending that nothing had happened between them, that it was a simple friendly gesture.

He saw that her face was all flushed, her gaze lowered, a gentle, warm smile of happiness on her face − he felt a squeeze in his heart at the sight, at the thought that he was not repelling her, that she was not disgusted by him.

He walked her to the tenement where she rented a room and immediately memorised the number, knowing in the back of his mind that he would surely be passing this way often over the next few weeks. They looked at each other and he wondered if she would want him to kiss her, to go inside.

He wanted it and didn't want it at the same time.

"I hope you had a nice time. Thank you for everything." She said softly looking at him at last, her eyes big and filled with something that made him hot, their fingers still entwined in a light, non-committal embrace.

"Very nice." He murmured, looking down at her thoughtfully, at her soft, pleasant face, at her pink lips and red cheeks.

She swallowed loudly and let go of his hand, embarrassed.

"Goodnight." She whispered and opened the wicket, closing it behind her.

"Goodnight." He replied and led her away with his eyes, watching as she opened the door and disappeared behind it.

He stood and waited to see where the light would turn on − after a moment the warm glow of the night light illuminated a room on the second floor of the house.

From that day onwards, she spent long hours every day in his café, not knowing that every evening he arranged to walk around her townhouse, watching her window from afar, sometimes seeing her silhouette as she walked from place to place, or as she opened the window to let in some cool, fresh air.

Since he met her he has not killed anyone.

Since he met her he had felt no need to kill anyone.

She filled his every thought, his every breath, the vision of her and her face brought him sweet relief, the touch of her hands, their entwined fingers kept him awake.

He felt that they had formed a bond, that she reciprocated his affect − he could see it in her gaze, in the way she smiled at him as she crossed the café door and spotted him behind the counter.

One day, he couldn't stand it and such a direct proposal came out of his mouth that he felt embarrassed for himself.

"I need to spend an evening with you or I'll go crazy." He said standing over her table and she looked at him surprised, her cheeks lit up with a hot blush.

She lowered her gaze, knowing exactly what he wanted, what he was implying, and swallowed loudly − he looked at her helplessly, thinking only of the fact that he was an impatient idiot.

"I need that too." She confessed and he tightened his lips at the words.

That same evening he found himself at her door.

When she opened it for him he clung to her lips as if starved, enclosing her cheeks in the tender embrace of his hands. He pulled away pressing his forehead to hers, her gaze at once fearful and thirsty, warm and dreamy, her lips twitching in uncertainty and fear.

"− I know −" He whispered, kissing her again, capturing her lower lip between his own, releasing it with a loud click, her fingertips running through his hair. "− I know − I won't hurt you − God, I would never hurt you −"

He was delighted by her sweet, innocent sounds as he placed slow, tender kisses on her neck, her shoulders, as he laid her down on her bed, running his fingers over her body, taking his time − he let her calm down, let her feel that he would not take her by force, that he would wait as long as she needed.

"− it's okay − it's okay −" He whispered soothingly, running his hot lips, swollen with desire, over her soft skin, laying between her thighs, letting her feel how hard he was, how much he needed her.

"− oh −" Rippled out of her mouth when she felt it, and he chuckled under his breath, delighted by her reaction. He raised himself up on his elbows and looked at her face, running the tip of his nose over hers.

"Will you let me kiss you down there?" He cooed, lowering his hand to her bare thigh, running his fingertips over it, feeling goosebumps forming where he touched her. She nodded, and he hummed before kissing her again.

They undressed slowly and unhurriedly − as he lowered the straps of her dress and exposed one of her breasts he began to place tender, light, butterfly kisses on her skin, barely brushing it with his mouth, feeling her breathing fast, her lips parted in delight.

She helped him pull off his black t-shirt and his trousers, and after a moment they were both wonderfully naked, like Adam and Eve in paradise before they picked the forbidden fruit.

He looked at her adoringly and kissed her deeply − she reciprocated his gesture, weaving her delicate hands into his hair, drawing him close, his chest pressed against her plump, soft breasts.

He began to slide his lips down her sternum, to her navel all the way down, leaving a moist, sticky trail of his saliva, feeling her writhing beneath him with arousal.

With a gentle, slow movement, he spread her thighs in front of him and noticed her glowing, sticky folds from with her moisture dripped onto the sheets beneath them.

He didn't hesitate for a moment − with a groan of pleasure he pressed his lips to her heat, running his nose over her puffy clit − his tongue slipped tentatively between her fleshy walls and teased in a circular motion what was between them. Her wetness and her taste spilled over his palate, her whole body trembled, her hand tightened on his hair, a shy cry came from her throat.

"− shhh −" He hushed her tenderly, sinking deeper into her hot flesh, his tongue with sure, intense flicks began to invade between her slick folds, licking and rubbing her upper wall just at her entrance, feeling her hidden, spongy spot from which her thighs trembled in his hands.

"− please −" She mumbled, but he shushed her again, knowing exactly what she needed, how he should caress her.

He'd been thinking about this for weeks.

He let her come on his face, felt her body lean back with a loud, pleading whine, trying to push him away − a purr of satisfaction escaped his throat when he felt how much of her moisture flowed out of her − he licked it all off with devotion, teasing her over-stimulated, throbbing walls.

"− such a good girl −" He praised her with admiration and heard her sigh of pleasure. He kissed the inside of her thigh rising up, wiping his face, placing his hands on either side of her head.

"− I need to feel you − alright? − I will take it slow −" He breathed out and she nodded, allowing him to grasp her hips in his hands and cross her legs around his waist.

When he guided the fat head of his cock against her opening she moaned helplessly, trying to fit it in − he kissed her tenderly, pushing against her opening, stretching her throbbing, wet walls with himself.

"− that's it − ah − I know, baby − I know −" He muttered, hearing her moan of effort, trying hard to take in what he was sliding into her, pushing her insides to their limits − her body tensed like a string, one of his hands on her hip, the other holding her cheek, his forehead pressed against hers, her hands entwined around his neck.

They both sighed loudly when he finally filled her fully, feeling her core clench hungrily against him on all sides. He slipped his tongue between her lips as he slid out of her slowly, only to fill her to the brim again with the buck of his hips, their hands clenched tightly on their hot, naked bodies.

"− yes −" She gasped and he groaned into her mouth, feeling his cock pulsate inside her at her words, his thrusts faster but still calm, deep, his thighs slapping against her buttocks with a sticky smacks.

"− just like that − oh, baby −" He gasped out loudly, losing control, slamming into her faster and more aggressively − her head tilted back and her eyes clenched shut, her mouth wide open trying to catch air loudly, her breasts bouncing up and down with each of his thrusts.

He felt her hands tighten on his hips, her body reaching out and literally impaling herself on him, her walls clenching against him, driving him crazy.

"− yes − please −" She sobbed pleadingly, as if she was going to cry, as if she was going to die if she didn't experience fulfilment with him.

He slipped his tongue between her lips, their kisses sticky, greedy, the tips of their tongues teasing and licking as his cock pounded into her brutally with every sure, deep push of his hips.

"− fuck − m' close −" He uttered, and she stroked his hair, reciprocating his kisses with tenderness and devotion, clamping her hand on his buttock, directing him deep inside her, as if that was where he belonged, as if the fact that he was taking her was the most natural thing in the world.

"− yes − please − inside me −" She mewled, and he growled loudly at her words, letting go at last, coming inside her so hard that for a moment he went dark before his eyes. Their bodies were still moving towards each other in involuntary motions when his warm cum spilled into her hot core, giving him a feeling of fulfilment and peace.

He opened his eyes with difficulty and looked at her face, finding to his surprise that she was still alive, that he had not strangled her, her breasts rising and falling in accelerated breath, her gaze warm and hot, her lips trembling slightly.

She lifted her hand and touched his scarred cheek, running her fingers over it.

"− you are so beautiful −" She whispered, and he felt a squeeze in his throat at her words, unable to get the phrase out, enchanted by the sight of her − he merely breathed loudly, letting himself be touched by her.

He couldn't find the right term, the right confession to describe what he felt for her.

He kissed her all night, finally feeling accepted, beautiful, loved, her tender hands stroking his hair, his cheeks, his body all night, praising him, telling him how good he was, how tender he was.

He whispered to her that she was beautiful, that she was his Eleonora, Ophelia, Helena, that he would never hurt her, that she would always be safe with him.

When he returned the next day to his flat, he packed his knives, his fishing lines, his photographs, his mementos of the murders into a big box and drove for hours, finally turning into the woods.

He poured everything he had into a big hole − dozens of blank white eyes, photos of women, their documents, phones − and doused it all with petrol, then threw a light inside and watched his past burn.

Finally, he buried it all back, covering it with mulch and moss and drove back the way he came, promising himself that he was done with it, that he would change for her.

That he would protect her.

From the world.

From himself.

_____

Next chapter: Rip my heart, heal my soul (2)

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icarusflewsworld · 16 days ago

Text

Rhysand & Cassian & Azriel X OC

Hello, here is the chapter 14 of a fanfiction on the world of Acotar where our three favorite Batboys are the mates of a single woman.

Thank you for readings, I love you guys ❤️❤️

Feel free to tell me what you think about the direction the story is taking! Thanks for reading, voting and for your comments. You brighten my day.

! Don't forget to read the previous chapters ! : Here

Enjoy the read !

Chapter 14

Azriel half-opened his heavy eyelids with difficulty. He noticed the room in which he had locked Luxiana yesterday without really seeing her. He repositioned himself a little more comfortably on the wall where he was leaning, his buttocks a little numb from the cold, hard floor he was sitting on. Then, suddenly, he realized. Luxiana! He scrambled to his feet, breathless and heart pounding in his chest. He searched the room frantically for his soul mate.

Then he froze, seeing Luxiana on the bed, in the same place they'd left her yesterday. He could release the air he'd been holding in his lungs, relieved, his shoulders sagging. She was on her back, her face half-covered by her hair, and the drool dripping from the corner of her mouth made Azriel smile gently. Even like this, she was cute. Her arms and legs were at dubious angles, and one of her hands was flat against Cassian's face, which was sleeping as soundly and similarly as Luxiana beside him.

He grimaced. That bastard. He was so close to Luxiana. Luckily, he hadn't taken advantage of the night to take her in his arms and hug her. Well, maybe that was why she had a hand on his face, because she'd pushed him away.

Then he looked down and noticed Rhys, on the floor beside Luxiana, lying full length on the ground, completely asleep.

He frowned as he ran his hands through his hair, watching the room a little more for a threat. The sun was fully up, and the warm yellowish rays streaming through the bay window confirmed to him that it was already late. His eyes widened. Had he slept all this time? Had they slept that long?

He couldn't believe it. He had slept. He usually had great difficulty sleeping. The voices of his shadows, although he was used to them, and whatever else was still bothering him, usually prevented him from doing so, but here, he'd just felt so good. He'd been so reassured to know Luxiana was by their side, and the fact that his shadows had fallen silent, he'd dozed off deeply.

He glanced at Rhysand. He was sleeping well too. It was crazy. In the last few weeks, thanks to their new bond, he'd felt all the times Rhys hadn't been able to sleep because of his worry about Luxiana, but he'd also felt the nightmares he'd had that distressed him greatly. But now Rhys was sleeping peacefully. Was he as reassured as he was to know Luxiana was by their side?

Azriel winced. They'd been foolhardy to sleep at all. Anything could have happened. Luxiana could have run away again, foolishly endangering her life as she had done so well last night.

He took a deep breath, then let it out as he dropped onto the wall behind him and slid down to sit up again, but the clanking of his weapons and armor made more noise than expected. Rhysand and Cassian awoke suddenly, straightening up at once, tense and on guard. They looked left and right, ready to fight, but frowned as they remembered where they were.

"Everything's fine," Azriel said to his two brothers through their telepathic link, not wanting to wake Luxiana, who was still snoring softly. "We just fell asleep."

"Asleep?" repeated Cassian aloud, still confused as he stared at the sunbeams streaming through the bay window.

"Shut up, you'll wake her up," Azriel ordered him, then glanced at Luxiana. Her hand, which had been resting on Cassian's face, had fallen on the mattress when he had straightened up, but she hadn't even felt it. She still hadn't moved. He smiled, at first relieved, but then a worry gripped his gut. She was such a heavy sleeper, it could be so dangerous for her.

Rhysand cast a puzzled glance at Azriel, who nodded in agreement. “We slept really well," affirmed the shadows singer. "It's past noon."

Rhysand's eyes widened, and he glanced at Luxiana. He'd been so reassured to know she was close to him that he'd fallen asleep. But he hadn't had a single nightmare. He hadn't had one in a long time. He ran his hands over his face to wake himself up, and as he moved he realized he was in his combat gear. So were Cassian and Azriel. They'd slept in those uncomfortable clothes, even with their shoes on. It was crazy.

After what had happened yesterday, Azriel had rested on the wall on the left side of the room so as to have his eye on Luxiana, the bay window and the front door. Rhysand had then lain on the floor on that side too, jealous of the closeness she had with Cassian in the same bed. And he hadn't even had time to think about what had happened before he'd fallen asleep. Cassian hadn't lasted long either. He'd watched Luxiana sleep, finding her so pretty, before he himself dozed off without even realizing it.

Rhysand turned his head to Luxiana and smiled as he saw her asleep, hair matted, facial muscles relaxed, sprawled like a starfish on the bed and half on top of Cassian. She looked so cute.

Cassian, still seated, shrugged his shoulders and grinned in acceptance. He'd slept really well and was ready to do it all over again. Especially as the bubble of vanilla perfume surrounding him and emanating from his soul mate calmed him so powerfully that his heart felt as if it had stopped beating. He lay back down and turned towards Luxiana, tucking his wings behind him. He detailed the landscape of tangled hair and drool that offered to him with a smile. He remembered when he'd opened his eyes that night and seen her curled up in a ball under the blanket Azriel had laid over her. She looked cold and he'd wanted to warm her, so he'd reached up to wrap his wings around her body but, without even waking up, she'd pushed him away with a firm hand on his face. And her palm hadn't left Cassian's face all night.

The army commander's smile widened. She was his soul mate. He could see his brothers in his field of vision, and he noticed that they were staring at her too. In any case, the feeling of peace, tenderness and comfort he felt in his chest wasn't just Cassian's. It was their soul mate. It was their soul mate. "How are we going to do this?" he asked through their bond.

"How are we going to do what?" replied Rhysand, deflecting her eyes towards him just as Azriel did.

"When she will love us. Will we have to make a schedule so that each of us can take turns spending the night with her? It’s horrible to think that" A ball of stress and apprehension crushed Cassian's stomach, and the same feelings arose in Azriel and Rhysand. "Will she even want this? One of us is already a lot for one woman, so three for the same one, will she want this? Will she put up with all three of us? Will she even be able to unite with three people? Does the ceremony foresee such a possibility? Will she have to marry just one of us? What about sleeping with her? We've never shared the same woman in bed, so how do we ...?"

"That's enough," interrupted Rhys, "calm down. We'll sort it all out in due time. She doesn't like us yet anyway. Let's take it one day at a time and try to get her to like us first, then we'll see. Besides, given her character, I'm sure she'll sort things out on her own." Rhysand said this, but doubt was also eating him up inside. He'd been asking himself all these questions every second since he'd met Luxiana.

Cassian nodded, relaxing as he took a deep breath. Rhysand was right. Their soul mate was no slouch, and she'd probably manage all three of them just fine. She already did. He returned his gaze to Luxiana and smiled. It would worth it to give everything and fight for her, he was convinced. She was his mate, after all. He reached up to brush the hair from her cheeks, stroking the skin of her face with his fingertips. "My bed would be big enough to receive all four of us. Maybe I'd always known we'd share the same soul mate."

Rhysand smiled wryly as he sat cross-legged. "I swear, if we come to sleep in the same bed for her, if either of you get too close to me or to touch me, especially if you're naked, I'll disintegrate you."

Cassian and Azriel burst out laughing, trying to be as quiet as possible despite everything.

Wanting to get closer to her again, Cassian slid in her direction, but the bed was far too small and limited his movements. He wanted to try again to take her in his arms. He grabbed Luxiana by the hips to turn her towards him and bring her close enough to fall asleep again for hours, but his soulmate grunted.

Azriel rolled his eyes, cursing his brother by their bond. "Cassian, I'm going to break your fingers, let her sleep."

Luxiana, without even opening an eye, pressed both palms and both feet flat against Cassian's abdomen to push him away. And she remained in that position, bent in two and still completely asleep. Cassian couldn't help himself and burst out laughing loudly.

"Cass," Rhysand scolded to make him stop laughing and not wake up Luxiana, but it was too late.

The blonde sat up suddenly, letting out a cry of frustration. She grabbed the pillow behind her to press it against Cassian's face with both hands, surely hoping to smother the brunet with it. But Cassian laughed even harder. The Illyrian gently pushed back the cushion and Luxiana, not wanting to murder him just yet, decided to pull it away. She struck Cassian's thigh once with it, then returned it to its place behind his back. She ran her hands over her face to wake herself up, then crossed her arms, detailing the three Illyrians and their positions. "This isn't the best way to wake me up, you know," she growled in a broken voice.

Rhysand smiled wryly as he slowly rose to his feet. He looked down at Luxiana from his heigh for a moment as she stared at him intently. He leaned towards her, "what's the best way to wake you up then?"

Luxiana swallowed hard, lost for a second in Rhysand's beautiful violet-blue eyes before squinting, remembering that she was angry with them. But why was she already? "Not to," she replied coldly as she lay back down, curling up into a ball with her back to Rhysand.

Cassian laughed softly. "Are you always in such a bad mood in the morning?"

Luxiana muttered through her teeth. "Only when you're the one who wakes me up."

The three Illyrians grimaced as they glanced at each other. Either she was always in a very bad mood in the morning, or she was still angry with them. Rhysand huffed, resting her buttocks beside her soul mate on the bed.

Luxiana, feeling the mattress in her back sink, closed her eyes a little tighter as she moved back, sliding further until she couldn't, coming into contact with Cassian. She preferred him for the moment.

Azriel jumped to his feet and approached the bed, ready to move away Cassian and Rhysand, who were oppressing his mate. Azriel understood that she couldn't be enjoying this too much. He understood that when you're a young woman, you can't necessarily be very reassured by the presence of two unknown men so close to you in a bed. But Rhysand spoke. "We'd like to apologize.”

Azriel stopped a few steps away from Rhysand with some surprise. He'd never seen him apologize for anything before. To apologize was to admit his wrongdoing, and Rhys was the high lord; he couldn't afford to do that, it would have denied his authority. And when Cassian had spoken of making amends to their soul mate, Azriel hadn't thought those words would be uttered by Rhysand. But they had been. He smiled. Rhysand had put aside his pride and his role for their soulmate. He was a good man. He was reassured to know that Luxiana would be treated well with her two brothers too. He was happy to know that relations with his brothers would take a whole new turn thanks to Luxiana.

The blonde, completely taken aback by Rhysand's words, jumps to sit straight, startling the three Illyrians. She leaned back against the headboard and crossed her hands over her thighs. She looked at Rhysand with an attentive and serious face. "Why?" she asked slowly, in a drawling voice as she squinted her eyes.

Rhysand glanced at Cassian and Azriel, and the three of them smiled softly, realizing that their future words could determine the rest of their relationship with their soulmate and her behavior towards them. "For interrupting Feyre's wedding and behaving like cads," continued Rhysand, gazing into his soulmate's electrifying blue eyes.

Luxiana frowned for a second. Was he sincere? Was the high lord of the night court apologizing to her? For real? "Really?"

"Oh we can promise you we really blame ourselves, yes," Cassian smiled as he straightened up and leaned on the bed in the same way as Luxiana.

Luxiana glanced at him sideways, wary. "Why did you do it then?"

Rhysand took a deep breath, he didn't want to lie to her too much so he inspired from the truth. "Yesterday we learned something very... disturbing and..."

"What have you learned?" she asked, inclining her head and detailing the fae lord with piercing eyes.

Azriel and Rhysand glanced at each other. Cassian laughed softly. "Someday you'll find out, believe me."

She crossed her arms, puckering up her face and settling a little more herself in the mattress, making the Illyrian smile triple. "And then what?" she sought to know more.

"And so," Rhysand continued, trying to regain a modicum of seriousness. "As a result, all the decisions that were made yesterday were hasty and made in anger. Like the one where we decided to go and get Feyre to return the favor she'd promised."

"Which is?" she interrupted him again.

Azriel crossed his arms, glancing half-closed at Luxiana. "He could come to it if he wasn't interrupted every two seconds."

Luxiana gave him a dark look, which Azriel returned.

Rhysand placed his hand on the young woman's cheek, then forced her to turn her head towards him and take her eyes off Azriel. He wanted her to see how sincere he was. "We decided this on the spur of the moment, thinking it would be a good idea, and went straight for Feyre. We really didn't think we'd be interrupting her wedding."

Luxiana loved the contact of these three Illyrians far too much. It turned her inside out so much that she couldn't even think straight. When she spoke, her voice was weak, uncertain and a little too high-pitched. "Despite how much you hate Tamlin, you still wouldn't have interrupted his wedding?"

Cassian blew out a laugh. "We would have interrupted him in other circumstances but not here, not knowing he was marrying your best friend and certainly not knowing what she means to you."

Luxiana's eyes widened as she stared at Cassian before her cheeks flushed violently. "Liar," she said, lowering her head.

Azriel felt his heart pounding against his ribcage. She was so cute.

"We don't lie, I assure you," Rhysand said, shifting his hand from Luxiana's cheek to her chin to catch her jaw. He raised his soulmate's flushed head to him.

She looked at Rhysand with doubt. She wanted to believe in his sincerity, but the massacre they'd made at the wedding wasn't erased. "Why do you need Feyre, or me, or anyone?"

Rhysand straightened his back, letting go of Luxiana and putting on a serious face. "Time is running out to neutralize the cauldron and prevent Hybern from destroying the wall. We must save the humans and to do that we must find the second part of the book of breathing. We already know it's in the summer court, but despite our many searches, we haven't been able to find out exactly where it is in the summer court. So we have to go there, locate it and steal it. And that's where we need someone. We're going to need all the help we can get to find that part of the book. And it's because of all this that we were in such a hurry. We hastily decided yesterday to stop searching and get on with it. It was a bad coincidence with Feyre's wedding."

Luxiana frowned. Part of her wanted to believe him, and to believe the glint of supplication that shone in his eyes. He seemed to really want her to forgive them. But another part of Luxiana, her logical, thoughtful part, which was putting all the events together and analyzing them, was screaming at her that something was wrong. That there was something the Lord wasn't telling her.

Even so, she had to admit that his story made sense and could be true. After all, it could really be. She wanted to believe them. She liked them. Besides, it would make sense, that's why they needed a woman, to seduce the lord of the summer court and make him tell her where he'd locked the book. She could do that. "I can do that," she affirmed, nodding seriously. Everything that had happened at the wedding had been terrible and she was still a little upset, but Rhysand was right, time was running out. Now she understood why he'd done it in such a hurry, so she blamed them a lot less. But the doubt lingered in the blonde's mind with a bitter taste in the back of her mouth. What if they were lying? But why would they lie to her? She had nothing to offer them that they could possibly want. And in any case, she'd know in due course whether what they were saying was true or not. "But why didn't you talk to Feyre about it in that case?"

Rhys smiled wryly, she was clever but he'd planned everything. "Because this mission must remain secret, we can't compromise it... there were a lot of people at the wedding and a lot of people we don't trust. That's why we didn't say anything. But when we will be in possession of the second part of the book, we'll talk to her about it."

"And why didn't you let me say goodbye?" She insisted. She intended to get to the bottom of the whole affair.

Azriel huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Why the hell was she so relentless? "As Rhys said, we were on edge. We acted without thinking and seeing all those people, it surprised us. We just wanted to get away as quickly as possible."

Luxiana took a deep breath, then lowered her eyes. She finally had answers to her questions, or at least she could settle for that for now. But it didn't help her solve her problem. She needed to contact Feyre or see her to reassure her. She knew her best friend was worried sick about her. She thought Rhysand was cruel and was probably torturing her. She just wanted to reassure her. Living in anguish would hurt Feyre and she didn't want that.

Rhysand noticed the gleam of concern and disappointment in Luxiana’s eyes. "Is it that important for you to see Feyre?"

Luxiana simply nodded, her mind elsewhere, already imagining hundreds of plans per second to contact Feyre.

"Then we'll take you to see her. Whenever you want."

Luxiana raised a wide-eyed look of surprise at Rhysand before both her pupils began to glow brightly. "For real?"

"For real?" repeated Azriel just as surprised as Luxiana. He had clenched his teeth and his voice was wheezy. Luxiana was also his soul mate and he had something to say about it too, but Rhysand didn't seem to care. He didn't want his soul mate to get too close to Lucien again. He was going to have to have a talk with Rhysand. He had to learn to share all things concerning his soul mate, including decisions.

The lord glanced at Azriel before returning his gaze to his mate and nodding, more than happy to see that dazzling smile on her face again.

Luxiana let out an exclamation of delight as she passed Rhysand and leapt to her feet. She didn't really believe in Rhysand's kindness, but wanted to find out if he had something on his mind or if he just wanted to please her. And either way, she intended to benefit from this moment to see Feyre. "Now then! Let's go now! I'm going in the shower!"

Cassian, who had crossed his hands behind his skull, watched the scene with tenderness. He would love to see this kind of scene every morning. Seeing his mate bickering and talking with his brothers. His heart was doing strange things in his chest, but it didn't seem wrong.

Just as she was about to pass Azriel, he caught her by the arm, immobilizing her with a single blow. She gave him a confused look, but Azriel pointed at her. "We'll go on one condition."

Luxiana inclined her head to let Azriel know she was listening, and to encourage him to continue.

"You don't touch Lucien, if he touches you you push him away and you don't get closer than three steps to him." he said in a growling voice.

"Four," Cassian accented, nodding in agreement with Azriel.

"Four steps," Azriel then modified. "Is that clear?"

Rhysand huffed, casting dark, reproving glances at his two brothers. They mustn't let her think she was their soul mate, she'd get scared and intimidated, but Azriel's jealousy was stronger than that. Rhysand hoped Luxiana had no idea.

The blonde frowned so much her forehead hurt. "What's your problem with Lucien? He's really..."

Cassian jerked to his feet with a growl, "If you're going to speak out about oh how wonderful you think Lucien is, I'm out of here, it'll be without me." He started for the door, but Azriel stopped him by raising a hand.

He caught Luxiana's chin in his grip, turning her head toward him. "It's none of your business what's wrong between us and Lucien. We're allowing you to see Feyre, but we've set a condition in exchange, so we expect you to respect it. Is that clear?" Azriel gritted his teeth. He didn't like talking to his soulmate like that, but he was so jealous, so angry, that he couldn't contain his dry tone too much.

Rhysand squinted at Azriel. He was seeing a whole new side to his brother thanks to Luxiana, and he'd had no idea he was so dominant and authoritarian in his relationships before now. He knew that the three of them were having a hard time dealing with all the amplified emotions they were feeling, but Rhysand, though deadly jealous, would never have forbidden his soulmate to approach anyone. But he said nothing; he knew it was better for everyone if she stayed away from Lucien. And despite that, a bad part of him was reassured to see that Azriel was like that. A bad part of him was reassured that he'd have that role in the relationship and that he'd make sure their soul mate didn't get too close to any other man. But he'd keep an eye on him. He wouldn't let him stop their soul mate from living.

Luxiana smiled as she tilted her head, glaring at the Illyrian who held her attentively. She was determined to find out what was wrong between them and Lucien. She didn't like taking orders, but part of her appreciated Azriel's authoritarian behavior. This time, she intended to stay away from Lucien until she'd got to the bottom of the whole thing and got to know the three Illyrians a little better. After all, as much as she liked the redhead, she didn't really care whether she got close to him or not. He was only her friend. And the important thing was Feyre. She shrugged. "If you like."

Azriel released her slowly, and Luxiana wasted no time going to the bathroom. He watched her walk away with a mixture of emotion in his chest. She'd shrugged her shoulders as if she didn't care about Lucien, and his whole body lightened at the realization, but it wasn't the answer Azriel would have wanted. He would have liked her to tell him that Lucien was nobody to her. But at least she wouldn't go near him. Azriel was so afraid that Luxiana would realize that Lucien was better than him, better than them.

"Luxiana," Rhysand called to her as Luxiana went to close the bathroom door. She turned to him with a questioning look. "We'll wait for you in the hall"

Cassian and Azriel glanced at him half-surprised, half-furious, but Rhysand paid them no mind. He had no reason to keep an eye on her now that she'd not run off to see Feyre like they were going to see her now. And he was giving her some space. He didn't want her to be sick of them already. "There are clothes in the closet," he added feverish to see her in his colors, "please, help yourself."

Luxiana nodded and closed the bathroom door. The three Illyrians reluctantly left the room. The three of them were really going to have to have a talk, especially as they didn't want to behave in the same way with their soul sister.

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