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partoffantasy · 2 months ago

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A Chance Too Late - Dain Aetos

⸻ image credits to booknuts & shauna_the_author & enchanted_chapters_art⸻

summary: Dain Aetos spent years convincing himself that pushing Y/N away was the right thing to do—until he saw her moving on with someone else and realized too late that he was losing the only person who had ever truly mattered.

pairing: dain aetos x fem!reader warnings: angst word count: 2.4k

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Dain wasn’t looking for her. Not tonight. Not here. And yet, the moment he stepped into the crowded hall, his eyes found her instantly, as if they had never stopped searching in the first place. Y/N stood at the far end of the room, a lazy smile playing on her lips as she leaned against the table, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her cup. The lantern light flickered across her face, making her look impossibly soft, impossibly untouchable—except she wasn’t untouchable, was she? Not anymore.

Because Bodhi Durran was standing too close. And Y/N wasn’t pulling away. Something inside Dain twisted violently, a sharp, unexpected pain that rooted itself deep in his chest. He had spent years convincing himself that his feelings for her were inconsequential, that what he wanted never mattered as much as what she needed. And what she needed—what he had always told himself she needed—was protection, structure, distance. A clear boundary between friends and lovers.

And he had been that boundary. He had been the voice of reason, the hand that kept her steady, the one who kept her from making choices that could put her at risk. Even if those choices meant she would have been closer to him. Even if they meant she could have been his. But now, watching the way she laughed at something Bodhi said, the way her body angled toward him—open, unguarded—Dain felt something foreign surge in his veins. Something that had nothing to do with reason.

Bodhi leaned in, murmuring something against her ear, and Dain felt his hands curl into fists at his sides. It wasn’t just how close they stood—it was how natural it looked. As if they had done this before. As if Y/N had already let Bodhi into a space Dain had never allowed himself to claim. He swallowed hard, his jaw tight, trying to tell himself it was nothing. That this was nothing. But it wasn’t nothing, was it? Because Y/N had always been the one to chase him—to fight for him when he refused to fight for her, to pull him out of his own stubbornness, to remind him that he was more than his duty. And Dain, like a fool, had spent every single moment convincing himself that pushing her away was the right thing to do.

And now, for the first time, she wasn’t chasing him anymore. Now, she was looking at Bodhi the way she used to look at him. Dain inhaled sharply, his breath unsteady, an unfamiliar panic rising beneath his ribs. He had always assumed she would wait—that she would always be there, just out of reach, but never truly gone. That no matter how many times he told her not now, she would still find a way to be his somehow.

But watching the way Bodhi placed a hand against the small of her back, guiding her through the crowd, watching the way she let him—Dain felt something crack deep inside him. He was losing her. And the worst part? It was entirely his fault. Because he had spent years telling himself he couldn’t have her. Now, someone else did.

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Rain poured against the rooftops, relentlessly, drumming against the stone walkways. Dain barely registered it. He wasn’t thinking—he wasn’t even breathing properly. His feet had carried him here before his mind had caught up. Y/N’s door stood before him, the last barrier between him and the only thing that had ever truly mattered. His hand was clenched into a fist at his side, rain dripping from his soaked uniform, hair plastered to his forehead. He was a mess—drenched, exhausted, and for the first time in his life, completely reckless.

For years, he had been disciplined, measured, careful. Every step, every decision was calculated to ensure the best possible outcome. But this? This wasn’t calculated. This was impulse, need, desperation. He had no plan for what he would say. He just knew he couldn’t stand another second of pretending he was okay with losing her. Taking a breath that did absolutely nothing to steady him, he raised his fist and knocked. Silence. Dain clenched his jaw. His pulse hammered beneath his skin, it only grew worse when, after what felt like an eternity, he heard the quiet creak of footsteps on the other side.

The door opened just enough for him to see her—Y/N, standing there in nothing but a loose shirt and leggings, her hair slightly damp, as if she had just bathed. The scent of something warm and familiar lingered in the air between them, but all Dain could focus on was the flicker of shock that crossed her face when she saw him. Then, just as quickly, her expression hardened. "Dain?" Her voice was quiet but sharp. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He swallowed, his throat tight, the words refusing to form. She sighed, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossing over her chest. "It’s the middle of the night. And you’re—" She motioned at him, at the way he was soaked to the bone, his shirt clinging to him, droplets of water sliding down his temple. "Are you serious right now?" "I need to talk to you." His voice came out rougher than intended, raw with something he couldn’t shove down anymore.

Y/N let out a humorless laugh. "Now? Now you need to talk?" She moved to shut the door, but Dain reacted instantly, his palm pressing flat against the wood, stopping it from closing between them. "Please," he murmured. It wasn’t a command. It wasn’t an order. It was a plea. Y/N’s breath hitched just slightly, and for a second—just a second—he thought she might let him in. But then she stepped back, eyes cold, jaw tightening. "You don’t get to do this."

Dain felt the words like a blade to the chest. "You don’t get to show up here like this, after everything," she continued, shaking her head, the exhaustion in her voice hitting him harder than any training injury ever had. "Not after pushing me away for years, not after telling me over and over that I wasn’t—" She cut herself off, exhaling sharply. "What do you want, Dain?" His breathing was uneven, his heart hammering, but he forced the words out. "I want you."

Y/N flinched, her lips parting slightly, like she hadn’t expected him to say it. Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe she had given up on ever hearing it from him. "I have always wanted you," he admitted, voice hoarse, raw with regret. "But I was stupid. I thought—" He exhaled harshly, raking a hand through his wet hair, barely able to meet her eyes. "I thought keeping my distance was the right thing to do. That protecting you meant staying away. But I was wrong, Y/N. I was so fucking wrong."

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. She stared at him, her expression unreadable, and for the first time in years, he had no idea what she was thinking. Finally, she spoke. "And now that I’ve moved on?" Dain’s stomach twisted. "Have you?" Y/N’s lips pressed into a thin line, and the hesitation—the barest flicker of uncertainty—was all he needed. "Tell me you don’t still think about me," he pressed, stepping closer, his voice lower now, rougher. "Tell me you don’t still feel something when I’m near you."

Her breath stuttered, her fingers tightening slightly against the doorframe. But she didn’t say anything. Dain swallowed hard. He had already lost so much time. He couldn’t afford to lose more. He lifted a hand, fingers trembling slightly as they hovered just above her cheek. He wanted to touch her. Needed to. But he wouldn’t—not until she let him. "Tell me to leave," he murmured. "And I will." Y/N’s gaze flickered, something dangerous and fragile and devastating flashing across her face. Seconds stretched, impossibly long.

Dain’s heart pounded. He could hear the rain outside, the voices from the hall beyond them, but none of it mattered. Only this moment. Only her. Her lips parted, and for a second, he braced himself for rejection. For her to tell him that it was too late, that she was already gone, that he had missed his chance. But then—

She exhaled shakily, her fingers unclenching, her shoulders sinking just slightly. And though she didn’t say anything, she stepped aside, leaving the doorway open. Dain didn’t hesitate. He stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind him. And everything else faded away.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Rain continued to pound against the windows, distant thunder rumbling low in the sky, but inside the room, the silence was suffocating. Y/N stood a few feet away, arms crossed, posture rigid. Dain could still feel the damp weight of his clothes clinging to his skin, his pulse drumming against his ribs. He had done it—he had finally crossed the line he spent years convincing himself he couldn’t. And now, standing in front of her, looking at the woman who had once been everything to him—still was everything to him—he realized he had no idea what to do next.

All he knew was that he couldn't leave. Not again. Y/N exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Say something, Dain." His breath caught in his throat. He had a thousand things he wanted to say, a thousand regrets that clawed at his chest, but nothing felt big enough, nothing felt right. Then, finally—"I should’ve told you a long time ago."Her lips parted slightly, her eyes searching his face, but she didn’t respond.

Dain took a shaky breath, raking a hand through his damp hair. "I thought I was doing the right thing, keeping my distance. I told myself that protecting you meant staying away, that wanting you the way I did—do—would only put you in danger." His jaw clenched. "But I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong." Y/N let out a bitter laugh, her arms tightening around herself. "And you realized this when, exactly?" She tilted her head, eyes flashing. "The second you saw me with someone else? Is that what it took?"

Dain flinched. The truth of it felt like a slap in his face. "That's not—" He exhaled sharply, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "It’s not just that. It’s everything—everything I’ve spent years trying to bury, trying to ignore. I thought if I kept pushing you away, if I kept telling myself that you deserved better, that eventually—" His voice caught, raw with something too big to contain. "Eventually, I’d stop wanting you."

Y/N’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, it hardened. "And did it work?" Dain swallowed hard. His voice was barely a whisper. "No." She let out a slow, measured breath, but when she spoke again, there was no relief in her tone—only anger. "You don’t get to do this now." Dain’s stomach twisted. "Y/N—" "No." She took a step closer, jabbing a finger toward his chest. "You don’t get to push me away for years, don’t get to tell me over and over that I was just your friend, that I should stop hoping for something more, and then show up at my door the moment I finally—finally—start moving on." Her voice trembled. "That’s not fair, Dain."

He knew that. Gods, he knew that. But he had never been fair to her. He had been careful. He had been cautious. He had been cowardly. "You think I wanted to push you away?" His voice rose, sharp with self-loathing. "You think it didn’t kill me every time I did?" She scoffed, crossing her arms again. "It sure as hell didn’t seem to stop you." Dain felt something crack open inside him, something buried deep for too long. "I thought I was protecting you!" His voice was hoarse, desperate, his hands shaking now. "I thought keeping my distance was what you needed. That if I let myself have you, it would ruin you—would put you at risk in ways I couldn’t control. I was terrified, Y/N."

She blinked at him, stunned silent for just a moment. Dain forced himself to keep going, his voice unsteady. "I was a coward. I told myself I was doing the right thing, that if I was strong enough to stay away, it would be better for you. But the truth?" He exhaled sharply. "The truth is, I wasn’t protecting you. I was protecting myself." Y/N’s breath hitched.

Dain stepped closer now, his entire body shaking. "I was scared," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "Of what it would mean if I let myself love you the way I wanted to. Of how much it would hurt if I lost you. So I convinced myself that pushing you away was the only choice." His throat tightened. "But it wasn’t a choice at all, was it?" Y/N’s lips trembled, her arms loosening just slightly from where they were crossed over her chest. But her eyes—gods, her eyes—were still guarded.

"And now?" she murmured. "Now that I’m leaving?" Dain’s breath stuttered. "Why now, Dain?" Her voice wasn’t just angry anymore. It was broken. Hurt. "Why do you always wait until it’s too late?" His heart clenched. "Because I can’t lose you." Y/N inhaled sharply. Dain’s hands shook at his sides, his entire body tense with everything he had never said, everything he should have said. "I know I don’t deserve to ask you to stay. I know I’ve already lost too much time. But if there’s even the smallest part of you that still—" He cut himself off, exhaling raggedly. "I can’t lose you, Y/N."

She looked at him then—really looked at him. And for the first time, Dain saw the war waging behind her eyes. Part of her wanted to believe him. But the other part? The part he had spent years letting down? That part wasn’t ready to forgive him. Silence stretched thick between them. Then, finally, Y/N took a shaky breath, stepping back. "I don’t know if I can do this again," she admitted. Dain’s chest tightened. "Please."

She shook her head, and his stomach dropped. But then she whispered, "I don’t know." Not no. Not never. But I don’t know. And for now, that was enough. For now, he would fight for her the way she had always fought for him. For now, he would wait. Because this time, Dain Aetos wasn’t going to let her go.

#fourth wing #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing fanfic #iron flame #onyx storm #xaden riorson #dain aetos #dain aetos imagine #dain aetos angst #dain aetos x reader

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