#but remembering that for a brief moment of time he was just a kid happy to be spending time with his father | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

literaila · 1 year ago

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worth

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: the past comes back to haunt you, as it usually does.

warnings: angst, allusions to disassociation, hurt/comfort, mama is sad

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year five.

"wait for me," satoru tells megumi, as soon as he starts walking away.

you're watching as megumi hangs his head, looking like he'd failed at his one objective--escaping--and turns around, glaring at satoru.

you've all been out shopping for the past two hours. getting the kids new clothes, shoes, whatever else satoru swears they need...

honestly, he's kind of cute running around like a maniac from store to store. showing tsumiki a cute dress she could wear, or teasing megumi into trying on a sweatshirt that matches his.

it's quite possibly the only reason you haven't complained.

or pointed out that both of the kids are on the verge of whining all the way home. or that he doesn't need to spend 100,000 yen to make them happy.

"hurry up," megumi tells the man, basically growling at him.

satoru grins and ruffles his hair, resting a hand on his back as the two of them begin to navigate through the crowd. mostly likely, neither of them knows where they're going.

you're not even sure where a bathroom is in this district.

"we'll wait here," you call out, nudging tsumiki. satoru turns briefly to give you a little peace sign, a little grin, and then he murmurs something to megumi you can't hear and they're both gone.

you're a little worried about them being alone together in this state but you ignore it.

"guess it's just you and me, miki," you say to the little girl at your side. she beams up at you, nodding. "do you want to sit down? how do the shoes feel?"

"mmm," she looks down, blinking at the sparkly shoes satoru insisted were perfect for her. "they're rubbing at my ankles a little."

"we can get some new socks, too. that should help. c'mon, i think there's a bench over there."

she grabs your hand as you begin towards the bench, humming something under her breath.

you look down to smile at her and don't notice the person walking by, accidentally bumping into them. "oh, i'm sorry, excuse us--" you turn and your entire body lurches away from you.

for a brief moment, you're not yourself. your conscious moves in an instant, ready to defend itself from everything, anything. you're not yourself, but someone else. someone you used to know very well.

"i--" you breathe, freezing at the person in front of you.

tsumiki pulls on your hand a little, confused when you stop suddenly. she looks to the woman standing in front of you, with a bizarre look on her face, and then tsumiki's brown eyes go back to you, her face riddled with curiosity.

"y/n?"

i don't remember a lot about her but i remember hugging her when she got home from work, and the way she said my name--

you want to forget it all.

it's clear now, several years later, that you would rather forget everything about her--about this woman standing in front of you, basically a reflection of yourself--than have to do this all over again. then have to face the memories of what she did to you. then put that child through any of it.

"hi--hey," you say because you have to.

here's the thing about seeing your mom for the first time in a decade: you can't just pretend you didn't.

you'd like to turn right around and walk away. you'd like to pretend that you've grown sometime in the past nine years, that you've turned into someone who doesn't need to stay and talk to her. you'd like to think that you're someone who can cut her right out of your life and feel all of the better for it.

but you're not.

you can't run away from your mother. you can't apologize for bumping into her and turn around with tsumiki's hand in yours and forget about it. actually, you can't even move right now.

because there's still this girl inside of you.

there's still this child, a teenager who tried so desperately to earn the approval of this woman and never got it. who tried so hard to be everything that this woman wanted, but could never try enough.

and she's clinging to your chest right now, breathing into your skin like a toxin, digging her nails into your heart and begging you to try again. telling you that you've got another shot, a chance she couldn't have--

so you can't leave now. not when you owe it to her, to yourself to try, to trick yourself into believing that it was just a fault of your own, that your childhood memories are only the result of some flaws you've already fixed.

you can't walk away when your mind is stuck on her, her, and--tsumiki.

your broken eyes turn to her.

your little girl who is standing right beside you, waiting for your next move. if you told her to run, she would. if you told her to stay by your side and say nothing, to hide behind you, she would. she wouldn't even ask you what was going on.

but for no reason at all, you can't tell tsumiki anything. you can't whisper to her that it's fine, that everything is fine. you can't introduce her or drag her away.

you can't do anything and it's never felt worse.

"i thought that was you," your mother says, tilting her head at you. she's staring like this is just a casual bump in. like you're colleagues who haven't seen each other since she went on vacation. "you look... grown."

you feel naive. there's nothing you can say to this woman to prove to her that you're better than you were. that you're far too good for her.

"thanks," you whisper, even though you know it's not a compliment. it's an instinct to appeal to her. to be polite and perfect.

your mom clasps her hands together. if you were looking at her--which you're not, you wouldn't dare--you might be able to tell that she's uncomfortable with you being there. almost surprised.

maybe she just assumed that you'd die as soon as you left the comfort of your childhood home. maybe she thought that they would've kicked you out of jujutsu high a day after you arrived, leaving you to starve on the street just like she did.

"well, how are you?"

you swallow. "i'm good."

she nods, and then she looks to your side and finally notices tsumiki there.

tsumiki, with her precious face, her beautiful brown eyes, and carefully organized hair.

you're not sure what your mother sees when she looks at her.

you wish more than anything that you could hide her. you don't want your mom's--you don't want this woman's eyes on her. you don't want her to say a single word to your daughter.

"and who's this?"

but you can't just send her away. you have no idea where satoru went, and tsumiki can't walk around on her own. not right now, not when you're so preoccupied.

you just can't walk away.

tsumiki holds her hand out, just like you taught her. "i'm tsumiki fushiguro."

"it's nice to meet you," your mother answers, shaking her hand warily like she's certain that she might get an infection from tsumiki's skin. and then she looks at you, not daring to ask what she wants to.

you clench your jaw, wanting to slap her hand away from tsumiki.

you should've put up a barrier a minute ago. the only possible block between you and a woman who doesn't deserve the pleasure of meeting tsumiki. who deserves no explanations from you.

but your cursed energy is frozen in place, and you know that if you shut yourself in, you'll never get back out.

"my daughter," you add, a bit louder now.

your mom's eyebrows raise immediately and she pauses, looking between the two of you, searching for some useless resemblance. like it isn't obvious that you share a bond, just from the way your hands are intertwined. like it's not obvious that you braided tsumiki's hair, or helped her pick out the shoes she's wearing.

like it might not be true.

still, she asks tsumiki, "how old are you?"

"twelve."

and you know where her mind goes immediately. thinking that it can't be possible. she knew you when you were twelve, and you certainly weren't pregnant with the little girl standing beside you. you certainly weren't developing any maternal skills locked away in your room, with only the curse that liked to hide in the walls to teach you.

it brings that resentment to the surface of your core, threatening to burst through your skin. you feel suddenly so angry you can't bear it.

and you're not that girl anymore, you realize. you haven't been since you met nanami and haibara and satoru.

since you learned that you were only a child and not a trophy that needed to live up to its name.

"well," your mom sighs, shaking her head. "i can't say this is what i expected."

"excuse me?"

"really, what do you know about children, y/n? don't you think you're a little young?"

tsumiki looks up at you with a frown, about to ask what she means when you stop her.

you squeeze her hand and look away, into the eyes of the woman who created you--who has that string of biology she just judged you and tsumiki for lacking--and still didn't care.

she is nothing if not the proof that dna means absolutely nothing.

"what do you know about children, mom?" you repeat, rhetorically. "at least i know that a ten-year-old shouldn't spend every hour of the day locked in their room, waiting for someone to come let them out."

"i'm shocked that you--"

"at least i know that a child is a gift and not a toy to hide away when you get bored of it."

your mom scoffs. "i can't believe this--"

"neither can i," you say and look to your daughter, who's got wide brown eyes and a confused sort of fear on her face. she doesn't need to hear anything else you have to say to this woman. you smile at her, soft as ever. "go look for dad, okay? he shouldn't be far."

it's been five minutes, and satoru's probably right around the corner, you rationalize. he's going to come pick up tsumiki and rescue you any second now.

tsumiki nods immediately, letting go of your hand. she turns to go do what you said, but before she can there's a strong hand on your shoulder, a body right beside yours, and you almost gasp in relief.

"found him," tsumiki tells you, softly.

you turn to satoru, wanting to beg him to carry you away from her, to get you away from her--but the words won't come. you're too struck by the view of his face, and the knowledge that when you finally escape from this, he's going to be right there.

satoru was there the first time, and he'll linger for the second.

his shaded eyes look back at you, observing for a second, reading your mind, and then he turns.

megumi is trailing at his side, holding a shopping bag. he looks between this stranger and you, a cautious look on his face.

tsumiki is telling him something without any words.

"hello," satoru says, smoothly, breaking the silence. "i don't believe we've met. do you know y/n?"

your mother frowns, scoffing. "i'm her mother."

you can see it when satoru reels back, looking between the two of you for a moment, an intense realization on his face.

maybe he can see the resemblance. the face that might be your own in just a few years.

or maybe, finally, he can feel the horrors of being raised by her. all of the things you've never dared to tell him.

you're pleading satoru for something with your eyes but you're not even sure what.

"there's another one?" your mom asks, almost disgusted, as satoru processes. "how old are you?"

megumi frowns. he walks over to tsumiki, who's already picked up your hand, and asks you: "this is your mom?"

you nod at him, relieved more than anything that he's there, with the rest of you. and that if you can't explain, satoru will handle it.

megumi considers it for a second. "are you sure?"

and you want to laugh so abruptly that it shocks you. you want to grab him by the face and kiss all across his cheeks.

tsumiki is already smiling at you like she knows this. her grip is strong against yours.

satoru smiles at your mom, a vicious ugly thing. "did you need something from her?"

"i--no, we just ran into each other," she tells him, seemingly confused by his entire presence. she looks at you. "who is he? another child of yours?"

satoru licks his lips. "not quite."

you're about to answer when he grabs your empty hand, shaking his head. "i don't think there's anything y/n needs to say to you," he tells her, coldly. then he looks at you. "is there?"

"no," you whisper, coveting the feeling of his hand in yours. the two children at your side, who know what it's like to be loved. megumi and tsumiki, who will never feel unwanted, as long as you have a say in it.

satoru nods, guffly, and turns. "it was a pleasure to meet you," he says, and he moves all of you away. you can almost feel it when he shields the three of you from the rest of the world.

with his hand in yours, the other in tsumiki's, and megumi on the other side of her, satoru leads you all away from her.

and you let him. because the three of them are more of a family--a better, safer one--than that woman ever was.

you can't thank them all for being there, being yours, in this moment, but you will.

at least you know that.

satoru has been watching you for hours.

since you all got home and the kids' questions began.

that was your mom?

yes.

why haven't we met her before?

i haven't seen her in a long time.

was she upset?

yes.

why?

because i'm happier than she thought i'd be, you said, i have a better family.

are we going to see her again?

absolutely not.

after that, the two of them quieted. satoru could tell that they had more questions, that megumi was curious and tsumiki was worried--but neither of them continued.

it was almost unspoken that you couldn't take much more. that you needed a break from it, even if you wouldn't say. so they both moved on, resuming their usual antics and talking about the clothes they got, when and where they'd wear them.

well, mostly tsumiki. but megumi entertained her thoughts for a while at least.

satoru just watched you. the tiny break within your eyes, the gap between you and the rest of the world. you've remained all the same since you got home. cursed energy small, unchanging. your face in one position like it'll kill you to move it.

satoru can't stand it, but he doesn't want to intrude. he doesn't want you to push him away too.

so he only sat there, trying to fill your role (which was impossible) at the dinner table.

and several hours later, after dinner, after space, satoru still hasn't brought it up.

but he doesn't get the chance to. because as soon as you've put both of them to bed--insisting on tucking them in and talking to them both separately tonight, like you're making up for something--you're sneaking into satoru's room.

and he's waiting like he always is. his arms are wide open when you walk into the room, and there's not a moment of hesitation before you fall into them. you don't blink or breathe before you're right against him, keeping yourself up with nothing more than blood and bone.

satoru hugs you close to him, trying to let everything he feels go, just for you.

(because he's just angry.

he's angry that she showed up and ruined your day. he's angry that he wasn't there to keep it from happening. he's angry that when he walked over he could tell there was something wrong because you were frozen--because you were almost barren. no cursed energy, no expression. nothing to draw him to you like usual.

and he's so angry that he can't do anything to fix it.

so angry that being the strongest sorcerer of the modern age means nothing when he really needs it to.

satoru isn't a person who hates. he never hated the people who attempted to tie him down as a kid so he couldn't escape observation. he didn't hate toji when he cut him through the throat. he didn't hate suguru for leaving, or yaga for asking why he didn't stop him.

he doesn't hate.

but he hates her.

for taking your face and twisting it around. for stealing your childhood and pretending like she didn't. for holding your precious heart in her hands and acting like it was nothing of value.

he hates her.)

you both sit there, rocking back and forth, sinking together for a moment.

and then you sniff, and satoru closes his eyes against your head, not sure what to say to make it all better.

what he can do to erase this feeling from your body. what he can do to prove to you that you're worth so much more.

"do you think i'm a good mom?" you whisper to him, as he moves back and forth.

his heart pauses, needing a moment to consider this. to not feel a fire in his soul at the very suggestion.

satoru pulls back, frowning. and he makes sure that your eyes are on his when he says, "there's not a person in the world who could take better care of them than you do," he swears, feeling like it's the most honest thing he's ever said.

he wants to brand the words into your skin just so you never ask such a ridiculous question again.

"thank you," you say, voice breaking, and satoru wipes the tears falling down your cheeks away. each one a different memory, a terrible moment where someone showed you that you didn't matter.

and when they continue to fall, satoru continues to wipe them away.

"do you want to talk about it?" he asks, almost hesitating. he's not sure that he can handle hearing about it--but he would if you needed him to.

"not tonight," you whisper and fall against him again.

satoru holds you close.

and he swears, to whoever is listening, that he'll love you enough to make up for that woman. he'll love you enough to make up for everything.

he loves you enough to be sure of it.

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captain-huggy-bear · 6 days ago

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“What’s that bruise from?”-clayton

I had so many ideas of how I could take this particular prompt and this is only one of them but I like how it naturally developed as I wrote it so, enjoy more Clay content! Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

On any given night of the week when Clayton isn't playing a game you find yourself at his house for a sleepover, if you can calling staying round your boyfriend's house a sleepover. Like always you found yourself in your comfy clothes the moment you arrived at his, not even needing an overnight bag anymore as Clay kept everything you needed at his. Even down to having bought every item in your makeup bag so that you had everything you wanted when you stayed over.

A pair of sleep shorts, an oversized Arizona Coyotes tee and your fluffy socks had you feeling extra comfy on the couch, curled up watching a re-run of Buffy while shoving an chocolate ice-cream mochi in your mouth because they're little bundles of joy.

Clay's eyes are drawn to your legs the moment he sits down on the couch after changing into sweats. At first it's appreciation. You hide your legs away so often under tights or jeans that he can't help but look when they're out. But, appreciation quickly turns to worry and then anger when his eyes catch onto a big purpling bruise on your thigh. It's the size of his hand, large enough to be a fist mark and it's the first thought he has...that someone's touched you, hurt you and you haven't told him. It has him gritting his teeth, grinding them together to quell the upset that starts in him at all the worst possible scenarios.

“What’s that bruise from?” His voice is clipped, tense and when you look up at Clayton from where you're curled up on his couch, legs on show because you're in your pajamas, he's got his lips pursed tight. He looks angry, the sort quiet anger that Clay so often gets on the bench when he's frustrated. Not yelling. Not screaming. Not a big outburst, just tension held by a series of strings ready to snap. You're just struggling to understand why he seems angry when he'd been so relaxed when you'd arrived at his that evening.

"Mmm?"

"That bruise, baby. Where'd you get it?" He wants to ask 'who' gave it to you, but he knows better than to do that...maybe he's overreacting, maybe he's thinking of every worse case scenario when in reality there's nothing there for him to get angry about. But, fuck, the thought of someone putting a hand on you? Of someone hurting you? It makes him blood boil as much as it makes him feel like he's failed somehow.

"Oh, this one?" He watches your fingers rub across the bruise like it's nothing, like it's not larger than your hand, like it's not marring your skin like some sort of plague. He hates it. Hates that it's there at all.

"Yeah, baby. That one. The giant fucking bruise over your thigh that wasn't there 3 nights ago when you slept over." He's snapping now, doesn't mean to, but it wasn't there last time you slept over. You hadn't mentioned falling over or anything that would cause it and he knows for damn sure it's new.

There's a brief pause, a moment in which you seem to take him in, to realise that Clay's really bothered by it. It's like a light bulb goes off in your head, a realisation that he's worried, the way his blue eyes are fixed on the bruise not even looking at you, how Clay's fists are clenched on his thighs, whole body tense like he's waiting for a bomb to drop. How he's snappy in a way that Clay very rarely is with you, always so soft spoken.

"Clay...I ran into a table while teaching." You smile at him like he's an idiot, all amused and patient, like he's a little kid that believes candy grows on trees.

"A table?"

"Yeah, you idiot. I was walking around my classroom and just walked fully into the edge of a student's table...I bruise easily, remember?" You can't count on two hands anymore the number of bruises you've had on your legs over the years. Always bumping into tables, the edges of doors, counters, anything that might possibly be in the way.

You watch the anger drain from him. Clay's shoulders slumping, far more relaxed, tight jaw and tense purse to his lips replaced by a sort sheepish smile that tells you he feels silly...but it's sweet you think. Sweet that he was so worried, that he jumped to concern, that he wanted to look out for you.

"Right...So I guess I'm not beating anyone up then?" You're moving towards him even as you laugh at him, settling yourself down until you're straddling his lap, sitting back on his thighs.

"Unless you want to beat up a table?" You rest your arms over Clay's shoulders, your fingers playing with the hairs at the base of his neck and the back of his chains as you smile at him in good humour. There's a pause before the goofiness fades to a quiet softness from you, a whispered question, "You'd really fight someone for me?"

"Of course I would. No one puts their hands on my girl." He says it so matter of fact, like it's the most natural thing in the world, like he'd never considered another option. As simple as water is wet. The idea that if someone touched you, hurt you, then that was it, he'd have to deal with it. It makes your arms tighten over his shoulders, shuffling closer until you're chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis. Clay's arms wrapped around your waist to draw you closer to him.

"You were really angry weren't you?" It shouldn't surprise you, Clay thinks, it's natural. To be angry when you think someone's hurt your girlfriend. You should only be surprised if he isn't angry about, if it doesn't bother him.

"Well, yeah, I thought someone had hurt you...I thought...I thought I'd failed." He grows quieter as his sentence reaches its end, hands falling to your hips. Clay's fingers dig in just enough to tell you he's upset, that the heavy swallow that rocks his Adam's apple isn't nerves but a sort of weighted sadness.

"Failed?" You try your best to sooth him without fully understanding, fingers running through the hair on the back of his head, nails scratching at his scalp in a way you know often makes him relax.

"At keeping you safe. That's like boyfriend duty number 1, keep your girl safe."

You get it now...god, of course you get it. Clay's always been the leader, the guider in your relationship. Most importantly he's always been your provider and protector. He never let you walk closest to the road. He always made you wait for the green man before crossing. He kept a hand on you in crowded public spaces, and made people give you room, space. He had spent your entire relationship trying to make you feel safe, secure, loved...and he'd thought for a minute that he'd failed at the one thing he'd taken such pride in ensuring.

"Y'know you've never failed at that, right?" You press your forehead against his, nose nuzzling against his own in an effort to bring back that smile you love so much, missing his dimples. "You make me feel safe...doesn't matter where we are or what's happening, even when there's cameras and fans and it's overwhelming...I just feel safe with you." You're more spontaneous around Clay, your brain shuts off so often because you simply trust him that much. You're so safe around him that you know he'd never let you get hurt and it makes just existing so much easier.

"Good, means I'm doing my job, baby..." The smile starts to form, first one corner of his mouth, then the other...a slow spread until his teeth are showing and his dimples are on full display.

"You're like the president of the good boyfriend club."

"Yeah?" His smile grows wider until it's basically a grin, corners of his eyes crinkling up, baby blues twinkling at you because fuck, he loves hearing that he makes you happy, makes you feel safe. It strokes some part of him that needs to provide, needs to make sure you're sorted for life.

"Mmm, definitely getting re-elected this year as well. Might even get a promotion to the president of the good husband club one day."

"I love you."

#huggy bear writes #clayton keller x reader #clayton keller/reader #nhl imagine #nhl x reader

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jscrawls · 1 month ago

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Widows rest

My take on a Black widow! Reader x Batman and Batfam but with a slight twist, reader doesn't know the Bats but they seem to know them...

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, brief mentions of violence, hospitals, poor writing, possible ooc,

Part 8: happy home

🔹🔹🔹

You're officially going ‘home’ today, the doctors have decided that you're well enough to get the boot. It's a little strange to think about, as much as you hate this place it's also the only point of this world you actually know. You have no other base here, no aliases, no hidden safehouse, no Natalia, just you and some strangers. There's been a tension in your shoulders all day, thankfully no one's commented on it yet.

“Are you ready mx Wayne? I've prepared one of the more subtle cars today.” The older man comments respectfully, he's tall, thin, almost haggardly so. yet he carries himself like a military general. Mr pennyworth is an odd one for sure, he eyes the clothes he brought you critically, like he's nitpicking the minute details of you while speaking in respectful deference. It's almost amusing.

“One of the - do you think we'll be attacked or something.” Your tone is flat, yet your words are meant in jest. Though you are curious just how much your husband wastes on cars if there's a selection to pick from.

“If the paparazzi got a sniff of you, then yeah. Might as well count as an attack.” The tall kid mutters as he grabs your bag off the bed, you should probably start calling him Jason instead of the tall one, but eh.

You briefly eye the bag, the only things of ‘yours’ in it is your phone, your medication, and the syringe you managed to keep all this time. You'd tucked that under a layer when you were changing out of the stupid hospital clothes in the bathroom.

“…why would they care about someone leaving a hospital? Isn't Bruce the famous one of the two of us?” The thought annoys and baffles you, most of your experience with press was them accusing you of various assassinations and demanding you be locked away so you're not exactly too keen to run into issue here.

“Mx Wayne, you are a minor celebrity, whether you remember it or not. Being ‘just the spouse’ doesn't mean you're completely hidden in Bruce's shadow.” Mr pennyworth says firmly, his posture straightening slightly, his chin tilting up, he's trying to be firm, He clearly wants to get the message through you.

“…alright, point taken. Shall we?” You start towards the door to your room, both relieved and pissed to leave this place.

“Ahem, are you forgetting doctor's orders?” The tall one- Jason grabs the handles of your wheelchair in the corner, in that moment you want to grab it and throw it off the rooftop.

🔹🔹🔹

You slide the sunglasses a little higher up your nose as you approach the doors, Jason pushing your chair and holding your bag on his arm while Alfred walks in front of you both towards the back exit. Your thoughts drifting towards the next steps, planning your next move…. But why? what exactly are you doing? Playing pretend out of habit, no real mission here. No loyalty or fealty to uphold. No goal in mind. It's a strange train in thought to hit you right as your bathing wheeled out the door by your supposed kid.

You nearly swing an elbow when something is suddenly shoved in your face, a microphone hitting your chin while Jason curses loudly behind you and body blocks the reporter, the duo had been hiding in the bushes like a couple of wild animals.

“Mx Wayne! A word! A word please!” The dark haired woman persists, flailing around Jason while shouting at you, waving her microphone like she's wielding a weapon. “Any comment on your hospital stay? What did you think of your attackers trial? Are the rumors true that you're splitting from Mr Wayne due to your injuries?”

“No comment, don't you people have anyone else to harass?” Jason barks at them, now it's clear to you why he insisted on coming today, he's practically a shield with his stature.

The cameraman tries to slip past Jason, practically kicking at him as he tries to get a close-up of your face. Alfred all but shoves past him as he quickly takes over Jason's job of pushing your chair, grumbling quietly so only you can hear him.

“dear Lord above, no manners these days…”

You're tense, even that small interaction has you feeling put off and unsettled, you're secretive by nature, feeling at odds with yourself already, and now someone's trying to plaster your face on a channel or magazine? Treating you like the press treats Stark? It feels like your skin is crawling, a deeply unsettled feeling nestles in your stomach as you're quickly helped into a car.

🔹🔹🔹

You stare up at the mansion with a neutral expression as you drive up to it, well as the butler drives. Him and Jason have been discussing your physical therapy schedule for a few minutes now while you quietly stare up the long driveway, something about attending every week and needing shots every few days, you really should pay more attention. Gather Intel while you can, yet you're more focused on your newfound freedom.

…Though with the way this place is built, you're still not so free. The manor could pass for a sanitarium, large gates surround the property and you think you can see evidence of security cameras on key points, you agreed to come to this place for appearance sake, but now you kinda wish you'd demanded your own apartment instead. Something private where you wouldn't be locked in a house full of strangers calling you their parent.

“…do you recall anything about this place? Anything…reminding you of anything or…” the butler questions you when he notices your focus elsewhere, Jason glances from the passenger seat back at you with what you can only call a hopeful look in his eyes.

You shake your head slowly, watching as you wheel closer to your next lock-in. “No…nothing at all…tell me a little about it?” Your response is automatic, tone shifting to curiosity and meekness as you meet their stares, though inside you feel hollow as the car parks.

🔹🔹🔹

“-and this is one of your favorite rooms, the library.” Alfred gestures broadly as he opens the double doors, just like with every other room he's shown you.

“Alright…”

You step inside with Jason grabbing your arm like you'll fall on your face, and take it in, the room could pass as part of a public library. It smells musty and old, aging paper and real leather furniture apparent, you walk towards a random shelf and slowly trail your fingers across the spines as you read the titles, Austen, Dickens, Hemingway, Woolf, brontë, the Wayne's are big collectors of the classics it seems.

You glance over your shoulder, catching Jason settling on an armchair with a book in hand, Alfred stands at the door and just…watches you. The old fellow is quite observant you've noticed.

“Something wrong, Mr pennyworth?” your voice is gentle, watching him as closely as he watches you. He shifts just slightly, expression not changing even as Jason looks up from his book to watch.

“Not at all, master Wayne. Are you feeling up for more of the tour? There's still the sitting rooms and the sleeping areas, oh, and the cellars. Silly me.” He's equally gentle, yet you get the feeling this is suddenly a game of some sort. Something telling you to keep a lid on around him.

You fully turn to face him, hand dropping back at your side. “I'm surprisingly tired, to be frank. As little as I've done today…” you don't need to put on an act for that, you're actually exhausted, have been since the paparazzi incident as you left the hospital.

It's silent for a beat, Jason looks between the two of you with a confused furrow on his brow. You and the butler staring at each other like this is a game of cat and mouse. Finally the butler speaks.

“Yes that would happen, being hospitalized for as long as you were can have…. Strange effects on one. Come along if you're able.” He turns on his heel and leaves without waiting to see if you'll follow.

Your brow furrows just a second as you walk after him, was he implying something?

🔹🔹🔹

M.list | prev | next

A/n: we're finally out of the hospital! It only took *checks notes* eight chapters. Lol the interactions are gonna be a lot more interesting now hopefully 😉

Taglist: @cxcilla @mercuryathens @dind1n @redsakura101 @ninihrtss @let-me-dance @ladykamos @one-piecelover @cuntiesweet

#dc x y/n #batman x reader #dc x reader #batfamily x reader #batman fanfiction #bruce wayne x reader #black widow reader

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certaimromance · 3 months ago

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✮ Bittersweet Sixteen.

TASM! Peter Parker x Kindergarden teacher!reader

Summary: After weeks of not speaking, you need Peter to do you a favor and put his suit back on. But the last thing you expected was to find your heart beating for him again, just like in high school.

Words: 4,2k.

Warnings & Tags: fem!reader. lack of communication. friends to lovers. pure fluff. first kiss yep. temporarily located years after the last movie, peter has already graduated from college and left the life of a superhero. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I have had this in my drafts since I started writing here (months ago) and it makes me very happy to be able to stop correcting it a thousand times and publish it.

Your office was your sanctuary. It was the only space in the entire school that offered a reprieve from the chaos—quiet, orderly, and a place where you could drink hot coffee in peace, without worrying about a child knocking it over. But today, everything about the space felt…off. Your desk, usually neat and meticulously arranged, was cluttered, a bag sitting on top that didn’t belong to you. The air was tense, charged with unspoken words. And most notably, you weren’t alone.

Peter Parker sat in the chair across from you, hunched over slightly as he fought with the too-snug sleeves of his old Spiderman suit. The blue and red fabric was wrinkled from years of disuse, clinging to him as though it, too, was reluctant to let go of the past. His hair was mussed from pulling the mask off earlier, and his expression was a mix of concentration and awkwardness as he avoided your gaze.

The last time you’d seen him was on your date—a surprisingly pleasant evening at a restaurant that had intimidated you at first with its crystal chandeliers and white tablecloths. You’d laughed more than you expected, found small moments of genuine connection beyond that of usual friendship, and left the night feeling a little lighter, a little more hopeful. It ended with a polite goodbye and a brief, somewhat hesitant hug. It made you think of the teenage girl you used to be, who had a crush on him back in high school. It might have been silly, but you felt butterflies, and you were sure he did too.

But then…nothing. No calls. No texts. You’d waited, your phone practically glued to your hand, each notification making your heart jump. Days turned into weeks, and the silence between you solidified, leaving you wondering if perhaps the connection had only been one-sided. Now, he had come to your work, yes—but not for you. At least, not in the way you’d once imagined.

It was all because one of your students was the biggest Spiderman fan you had ever met, and that was quite a lot for a kid who had practically lived more without the superhero in action than with him saving lives and walking between buildings. It was only a matter of time before you had a lightbulb moment.

“You know,” Peter said suddenly, his voice breaking the heavy quiet, “I don’t think this suit has seen daylight in years.” He tugged at the sleeve, grimacing when it resisted. “Either it shrank, or I grew. Both are bad options.”

The corner of your mouth twitched, a reluctant smile forming despite the tension. “It’s probably the suit. Lycra has a way of holding grudges if you don’t treat it right.”

Just like me, you thought. You still were trying to remind yourself that he was just there to surprise one of your students and that it wasn't about you or your friendship.

“Yeah,” he admitted, looking down at the suit. “It’s been a few years, at least. I’ve been busy…you know, at the lab.”

You stepped closer, reaching out instinctively to smooth the fabric along his shoulder. The action was small, but the proximity sent a wave of awareness through you. His shoulders were broader than you remembered—had he always carried himself with this quiet strength?

Damn, you had to concentrate. Really.

“Right,” you said softly, focusing on adjusting the suit. “The lab. I know…but you’re still good at the hero thing. Showing up, being there for people. That’s kind of the most important part, right?”

He looked up at you then, his brown eyes catching yours, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you. For a moment, he seemed on the verge of saying something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he offered a lopsided smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Well, I couldn’t say no. Not to you.”

Your fingers paused on the cuff of his sleeve. The words were simple, but they landed heavily, stirring something in your chest that you weren’t quite ready to name. It was probably your heart exploding, just like when he would pass you in the hallways at school and accidentally brush your shoulder against his or when I smiled at you suddenly and said that you looked good. It was deja vu. A big one.

“You didn’t have to,” you replied, stepping back to create some distance. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d been too busy.” Just like how you were these weeks, not to call me.

“Too busy for Spiderman’s number one fan? That’d be a pretty lame excuse.” His attempt at humor was there, but his tone carried an undercurrent you couldn’t quite decipher—something apologetic, maybe even regretful.

You folded your arms, creating a barrier you hoped would steady you before talking. “Jamie’s going to lose his mind when he sees you,” you said, your tone deliberately light. “It’s the perfect birthday surprise.”

His face softened at the mention of your student, and he seemed genuinely grateful for the change in topic. “Jamie,” he repeated, testing the name on his tongue. “You said he’s, what, five? Six?”

“He turned six today,” you corrected, a small smile tugging at your lips. “And completely obsessed with you—well, with Spiderman. He spends half his recess pretending to swing between buildings, and his favorite art project this year was a crayon drawing of you fighting a giant lizard. It’s hanging on the bulletin board outside the classroom if you want to see it.”

“Now I definitely have to see it,” Peter said, his grin returning. “Sounds like my toughest critic.”

“Hardly,” you replied, the warmth in your tone surprising even yourself. “He thinks you walk on water. You’re going to make his entire year just by walking into that classroom with his birthday cake.”

He shifted in his seat, his usual boyish charm dimming slightly as he looked at you. “You’re the one making this happen. You didn’t have to ask me to do this. It means a lot, you know. That you thought of me.”

The weight of his words settled between you, making your heart tighten. There was something in his tone—earnest, maybe even vulnerable—that made it hard to look away. You knew better than anyone how much the decision to give up the hero role had cost him, how many times you two had talked about whether this was his true purpose in life.

“Of course I thought of you,” you said softly, and then, more hesitantly, “I mean, you’re Spiderman. Who else was I going to call for this?”

Parker chuckled, but there was a note of self-deprecation in the sound. That was not an answer to be expected, no matter how obvious it was.

“Yeah. Spiderman. Right.” He hesitated, his fingers brushing against the edge of the mask sitting on your desk. “I just…I didn’t think you’d call me at all. After, you know...”

There it was. The thing neither of you had been brave enough to address until now. Why? Why? Why?

The words hung in the air, thick with the weight of everything unspoken. You could feel the silence closing in, like the pause between breaths right before a storm breaks. His eyes—those warm, familiar chocolate eyes—seemed to be searching yours, as if waiting for some kind of answer, but you couldn’t quite find the words. He was your friend, your best friend, someone you could tell anything to. But now, nothing coherent can really come out of your mouth.

You shifted uncomfortably, the tension in the room almost unbearable. Your heart thudded against your ribs, and you knew you had to break the silence. But now wasn’t the time. Not in this place. Not like this.

“Let’s…let’s focus on Jamie, okay?” you blurted, your voice coming out sharper than you intended, almost a little too loud for the small space.

He blinked, clearly startled by the sudden shift, and for a moment, you both just stared at each other.

“Right, Jamie,” Peter echoed, giving you a smile that was a little too tight, a little too cautious. He shifted, standing up from the chair, and the air around you seemed to settle just a little.

You cleared your throat, stepping back, your gaze flicking to the clock on your wall. “He’s going to lose his mind when he sees you walk through that door.”

He looked at you, his lips twitching at the corners, though the tension in his eyes didn’t fully fade. “You’re sure you don’t want me to do a big dramatic entrance? Swing through the window or something?”

You laughed, though it felt a little strained. “Let’s keep it simple, okay? We don’t want to traumatize any of my kids.”

He chuckled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He moved towards the door, and for a second, you hesitated. He was still wearing the suit—his Spiderman suit, the one that had once made him a legend in your eyes. But now, as you stood there, a thought nagged at the back of your mind. The suit was a part of him, yes, but so was the mask. The mask was his identity, the thing that separated the hero from the man.

“Hey, wait,” you said, your voice softer than before, and he paused mid-step. You walked over to him, the sudden proximity almost overwhelming. The mask sat on your desk, waiting, like a silent question. Your heart raced as you picked it up, turning it in your hands for a moment, letting the weight of it settle. “You should probably put this on. You know, just to keep your identity safe. We don’t want anyone knowing who you really are, right?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said, his voice lower now, almost distracted.

You swallowed hard, your hands suddenly trembling slightly as you moved closer to him. The space between you seemed impossibly small, and for a moment, neither of you moved, just standing there, suspended in this strange, fragile moment. You could feel the warmth of his body, the soft rhythm of his breath as he stood in front of you, and for the first time since he walked into your office, it felt like the distance between you had closed.

And for a moment, everything felt like it did in high school, when you were both teenagers trying to hide the secret and not to fail your subjects.

Gently, you reached up, lifting the mask toward his face. His eyes met yours, and for a fleeting moment, everything in the room stilled. You could feel the weight of his gaze. And in that moment, as you moved to place the mask over his face, your fingers brushed against his skin—a simple touch, but one that felt electric. His jaw tensed under your fingertips, his breath hitching slightly.

You took a deep breath, your heart racing, and carefully slid the mask into place. The action was small, but it felt monumental, the kind of quiet gesture that spoke volumes. It was intimate in a way you hadn’t expected, and as you adjusted the mask, making sure it was secure, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted again in your heart.

“Perfect,” you said softly.

Peter looked at you, now fully transformed into Spiderman, and despite the mask, there was something in his posture, in the way he stood, that was unmistakably him. “Thanks,” he said, his voice muffled through the fabric, though there was still a tenderness in his tone.

The sounds of children’s laughter and chatter grew louder as you moved toward the classroom, the vibrant energy of the moment standing in stark contrast to the quiet tension that had surrounded you both earlier. You stole a glance at Peter. Even in the suit, even behind the mask, you could feel his nervousness, a subtle hesitation in the way his shoulders tensed, the slight uncertainty in his step. It was as if he was still learning how to be this version of himself again, but the earnestness was unmistakable.

When you reached the door, you paused, turning to face him. “Ready?” you asked, your voice soft but carrying the weight of the moment.

“Born ready,” he replied, his smile audible even through the mask, though it was tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

You took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping in first to scan the room. The instant the door swung wide, the children’s eyes locked on you, their faces lighting up with excitement. Jamie, sitting at the small table with his friends, froze mid-conversation. His eyes widened, his face glowing with anticipation as he jumped to his feet.

“Miss! Is it time for the surprise?” he asked, his voice full of wonder.

“Not just yet,” you said, your lips curving into a conspiratorial smile. “But I think you’ll want to pay attention.”

And then, with a theatrical flair you hadn’t expected, Spiderman stepped through the doorway and the cobwebs appeared. The room erupted in gasps and squeals of delight as the kids leapt from their chairs, crowding around him with wide-eyed awe.

Jamie froze, his mouth hanging open as he clutched the edge of the table. “No way,” he whispered, his voice trembling with disbelief. “It’s really him?”

Peter crouched down to Jamie’s level, his movements fluid and natural despite the years away from the suit. “Happy birthday, Jamie,” he said, extending a hand for a high-five. “Someone tell me you’re my biggest fan.”

A soft laugh bubbled in your chest at the mention. The kid hesitated, looking at you for confirmation, and then, with all the enthusiasm his tiny six-year-old body could muster, slapped his hand against Peter’s gloved one with the loudest, most joyful smack. “You’re real! You’re really real!”

The other children chattered excitedly, peppering Spiderman with questions about his powers and his adventures. He handled it all with practiced ease, weaving just enough humor into his answers to keep them laughing but still utterly convinced that he was, in fact, the superhero they adored.

As you watched him, standing back and taking it all in, a soft warmth spread through your chest. He wasn’t just good at this—he was great. His ease with the kids, the effortless way he connected with them, it was clear: he was a hero not only in costume but in every little action. The doubts that had plagued him, the years spent questioning if the mask was still a part of him, seemed so far away in that moment. He had it—the ability to inspire, to make people believe, to make them feel seen and important.

For the first time in weeks, you felt that flutter in your chest again—the one you hadn’t realized you’d missed so much. It was hope, soft and steady, like a heartbeat you’d forgotten how to hear until now.

You stayed near the back of the classroom, content to let Peter soak up the adoration while you took a couple of pictures of it. But every now and then, he would catch your eye, and even through the mask, you could feel the gratitude radiating off him. It was a silent thank-you, a quiet acknowledgment of the bond between you, for pulling him into this moment, for giving him the chance to be this version of himself. You nodded, your lips curving into a small, affectionate smile.

When the excitement finally began to settle, the cake was brought out, and Jamie proudly showed Peter his crayon drawing—an adorable depiction of Spiderman battling a huge, ferocious lizard. He studied it for a moment before declaring with all the sincerity he could muster, “Museum-worthy,” making the kid’s face light up with pride. The joy in the room was palpable, and it was impossible to tell who was happier: the children, who were living out their dreams, or the superhero himself, who was finally realizing that, perhaps, there was still a place for him in this world.

Eventually, it was time for him to “swing” away, and after a round of hugs and high-fives, he disappeared down the hall, leaving a room full of awestruck children in his wake. You stayed behind, cleaning up the remnants of the party and basking in the lingering joy.

By the time you returned to your office and all the kids to their houses, the hallways were quieter, and the sound of little feet had faded. But when you stepped inside, there he was—Peter, still waiting for you, now back in his civilian clothes, the Spidey suit crumpled in one hand like a tired, old memory.

“Oh,” you said, a little startled. “I thought you’d already left.” I wish.

“I figured I’d stick around for a bit,” he said quietly, running a hand through his hair, still slightly ruffled from the mask. “I don’t exactly get to see kids this excited for me every day.”

You couldn’t help but smile in return. “You really made Jamie’s day. I’ve never seen him so starstruck. He’s going to be talking about this for his whole life.”

Peter chuckled, but it was a little strained. “It’s good to know I’m still that impressive,” he said, his tone light, though there was an underlying sadness that didn’t quite match the words. “I guess it’s been a while since I’ve been in the game…you know, the hero thing.”

You just nodded. “You are good at it, you know.”

His smile was a little wistful as he tossed the suit onto the desk, his eyes following it for a moment before meeting yours again. “Yeah…but that’s not really what I came here to talk about.”

At his words, you felt a flicker of curiosity mixed with unease. You crossed your arms, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. “Oh? What did you want to talk about?” Please say you want to correct my bad posture when I took the pictures or something.

He shifted in his seat, his fingers nervously tapping against the desk. “Honestly…I’ve been thinking a lot these past few weeks,” Peter began, his voice quieter now, almost like he was trying to gather his thoughts. “About you…about us. And, well, I guess I just…I missed you.”

Oh, that.

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden vulnerability in his words. For a moment, the room seemed to close in around you, your breath catching in your chest. He missed you? You hadn’t expected that.

Before you could respond, he went on, his words coming faster, like he couldn’t stop himself. “I know things have been weird since the date. And I didn’t…I didn’t want to just text you or call and make it feel like I was making things awkward. You know? So, I guess I just…waited for you, and I get the message.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and every conclusion you ever had was shattered.

“Wait,” you said, the realization dawning on you. “You were waiting for me to call?”

“Yeah. I mean…I thought maybe you were the one who needed space, and I didn’t want to rush things or make it weird. I didn’t want to push you into something you weren’t ready for or didn’t want.”

Not ready? Don’t want? You literally had been wanting it since you were sixteen.

You blinked again, feeling a warm flush spread through you. “I…I thought you were the one avoiding it. I didn’t want to make things uncomfortable, so I didn’t reach out either.”

His eyes widened slightly as the words sunk in, and for a moment, there was just a long silence between you, filled with the soft hum of the fluorescent lights above. Then, finally, a soft laugh escaped him, and you couldn’t help but chuckle too, the tension easing slightly.

“I guess we were both just sitting here thinking the other person would make the first move,” Peter said with a grin, shaking his head.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “This is ridiculous,” you said, your laughter soft but genuine. “We’ve been friends for years, and now we’re both too nervous to talk about it.”

He chuckled, his gaze dropping for a moment. “Yeah. Seems like we’ve been pretty bad at this whole communicating thing.”

The laughter between you two died down, the room suddenly feeling warmer, the space between you shrinking with each passing second. For a moment, there was nothing but the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights and the soft shuffle of Peter’s shoes against the floor. You felt a spark of something flicker within you—something long suppressed, a longing, an ache you hadn’t quite realized until now.

He shifted in his chair, a bit unsure of what to do next, his fingers absentmindedly brushing the fabric of his crumpled suit. His eyes met yours, and for a second, the weight of everything—your shared history, the unspoken words, and the lingering emotions—hung in the air like a delicate thread waiting to snap.

“I guess we should…try this again,” he murmured, his voice low and tentative. The vulnerability in his tone made your heart flutter. “If you want.”

You nodded, feeling your cheeks warm, but this time it wasn’t from nerves. You stepped closer, closing the space between you, feeling the presence of him so close you could almost feel the thrum of his heartbeat.

“Yeah…let’s try again,” you whispered, almost to yourself, but loud enough for him to hear. “I want it.”

Peter stood up, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he was giving you time to change your mind. His hand reached out slightly, as if asking for permission, and you met him halfway, your fingers brushing against his. A spark of warmth shot through you, igniting a familiar flame.

He cupped your face gently, his thumb tracing the curve of your jawline, as if memorizing every detail of your expression. Your breath caught, heart pounding, as you met his gaze—his brown eyes soft, but with that unmistakable spark of affection you had longed for.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured softly, his words both an affirmation and a confession. The sincerity in his voice made your breath hitch in your chest. You smiled shyly, unsure how to respond but feeling the weight of his words settle deep within you.

Slowly, he leaned in, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. His lips brushed against yours lightly, just a whisper of a kiss, a hesitant touch that held more promise than any grand declaration. You closed your eyes, letting the sensation wash over you, feeling your body relax into the familiarity of him. His lips lingered against yours for a heartbeat before pulling back, as if checking in, unsure of how much was too much, too soon.

“I don’t want to rush anything,” he said, his voice a little shaky, as if unsure of how to navigate this new territory between you two. “I just want to take things slow, see where this goes…do it right.”

You nodded in agreement, your hands gently gripping his as you let the moment linger. “Yeah, me too. No need to rush.”

He stepped back slightly, looking at his watch with a sigh. “I should go,” he said, his smile a little sad. “I’ve got work, and you probably have things to do.”

You felt a pang of disappointment, but you understood. The moment, as sweet as it had been, couldn’t last forever.

“Yeah, I get it,” you said, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice. “I’ll see you soon, right?”

He nodded, a warm smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yes, you definitely will.”

Peter took a step back toward the door, but before he could reach for the handle, he stopped, turning to face you once more. There was a hesitation in his eyes, a pull that seemed to tether him to you in that moment. Without a word, he crossed the room in a few strides, his hand reaching for you again, this time more urgent, more sure.

Before you could say anything, his lips were on yours again—this time, deeper, more insistent, as if he could no longer wait for you to make the first move. It was a kiss that spoke volumes—of all the missed chances, of the longing, of everything unspoken between you. It was both sweet and desperate, a promise and a question wrapped up in one.

You responded instantly, your hands finding his shoulders as you leaned into the kiss, feeling the heat of his body against yours. For a few moments, nothing else mattered but the rhythm of your kiss, the way his fingers brushed your hair back, and the warmth of his breath against your skin.

Finally, when the kiss broke, both of you stood there, breathing a little heavier than before, eyes locked in a silent exchange that said more than words ever could.

He ran a hand through his hair again, his expression a mix of longing and determination. “I’m not waiting anymore,” he said softly, as if to himself. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

You smiled, the weight of his confession making your heart flutter. “Then don’t wait,” you whispered back.

And with that, Peter leaned in one last time, pressing his lips to yours, not with hesitation or doubt, but with the certainty that whatever this was—whatever was between you two—was worth fighting for, even if you both weren't sixteen anymore.

#tasm peter parker #tasm spiderman #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter imagine #tasm andrew garfield #tasm fanfiction #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x you #spiderman #peter parker #andrew garfield

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tayraedoll · 5 months ago

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Old Men Know All the Tricks

Hello! Here is part two of Old Man and this is a spicy tamale. MDNI.

Part 1 Part 3

Word count: 3,192

TW: P in V intercourse, swearing, biting, blood, mating cycles, pet names, cunnilingus, scent kink, cream pie, unprotected sex, breeding kink, heat and rut, chasing kink, scent marking.

He was trying to kill you, you were sure of it.

You have been at this for hours, it should be impossible for any being to have this kind of stamina. Sweat ran down your back, face red with exertion. Your legs shook, knees ready to buckle at any given moment.

"You are doing so well.", he says to you. "Just a little longer."

You really wish you could snap a witty retort back at him; but your ability to speak left you long ago. All you could do was keep gasping for air. Even if you could physically speak, your brain was so muddled you wouldn't be able to form the words to begin with. You could not keep this up much longer, you need a break- even just a brief reprieve just to catch your breath. You felt like you were about to faint.

"Aaaand time!", Angel shouts and you collapse onto the grass on your back heaving for air. "Nothin' betta than a 10-mile run eh toots?"

All you could do was raise a hand to flip him off, earning a chuckle from the spider. You had been doing research since you and Alastor started dating- turns out he was not kidding about the mating season or the 72-hour sex marathon. So you took his advice and started going on runs and doing yoga with Angel Dust three times a week. He did this to keep in shape for his job, this workout routine made his job a lot easier when Val would be a dick (pun intended) and force him to work a double shift. You asked to join him under the guise of wanting to increase your stamina for Alastor's lunatic dancing; no way were you going to talk to Angel Dust about cervid mating habits.

Dating Alastor was quite amazing, the man never did anything half-assed. You got flowers at least once per week, candlelit dinners in his bayou, gifts like the ruby you currently had on your middle finger, and the status that just naturally came with being associated with The Radio Demon. But the best part was his words of affirmation, he would speak pure poetry into your ear in peaceful moments alone. You had not gotten to the "I love you's" yet but he conveyed the depth of his feelings with just his honey-sweet words. His charisma alone left you breathless.

The only dark cloud in your dreamland romance was physical affection. Alastor still was not a fan of being touched, even by you, though he tolerated your touch much better than others. The extent of your physical relationship consisted of him holding your hand or resting his hand on your knee when in private, a swift peck on the cheek or lips, or an arm around your waist. You didn't necessarily mind, you were more than happy to move at his pace, but it did make you wonder what would happen come mating season.

That thought leads you back to the present. Mating season will begin any time now. It was fall, the days were shorter and the nights were colder even in Hell. Which is why you subjected yourself to the torture you just endured with Angel.

"I still can't believe yer doin' all dis just to dance with Smiles."

"You've seen the man dance, he's a hazard on the dance floor if you can't keep up.", you reply as you sit up, heart rate finally returning to normal.

"Yea, I remember the day after yer first date wit 'im. If I didn't know any betta I woulda thought you was fuckin' all night wit' the way you was walking sideways.", he wiggled his brows suggestively.

You coughed to hide the blush blossoming across your cheeks. The day after Alastor first took you dancing was a nightmare you wished you could forget; between Angel's sexual innuendos, Charlie's overbearing concern, and Alastor's cocky smirks and false atonement for making you over-exert yourself you reached the end of your patience.

"Any ground made with Husk?", you ask to change the subject. Bringing up the resident feline was a sure-fire way to distract Angel from whatever you did not want to talk about. The poor guy was down bad, but so was Husk- the tomcat just did not realize it yet.

You spent several extra minutes in the shower that night, letting the hot water relax your sore muscles. Alastor had some Overlord business to attend to so you would not be joining him in his room tonight. You tried not to think about what that means, if Alastor wasn't with you then he was with someone else and that someone else most certainly was not finding the deer demon's company as pleasing as you did.

As you prepared for bed you noticed that your chest was a bit flushed and you were feeling a little feverish. You swallowed a couple of ibuprofen- better to just nip that in the bud if you could help it. Probably got sick on that stupid run with Angel earlier, hopefully you would wake up right as rain.

Unfortunately, you did not wake up right as rain. In fact, you were worse; the fever spiked and you were sweating profusely. A fog clouded your mind making it difficult to think straight. But you felt energized, absolutely wired actually. Your senses were working in overdrive picking up every smell and sound and you could practically taste the air around you. You stumbled over to the door of your bedroom, you'd have to let Charlie know you weren't feeling well so she could excuse you from her redemption exercises.

You made it only halfway down the hall when a sharp chill ran up your spine. Before you could turn around you found yourself in a swamp. No- you found yourself in Alastor's bayou to be exact. There was a slight breeze and the stars twinkled overhead, you always found it strange that Alastor kept the bayou under the veil of night, never letting it see the sun. Your sensitive ears picked up the crickets and frogs singing all around. You weren't exactly sure where you were, you could not see the the actual room dimension; it was like you just appeared in the middle of the bayou. So you began to walk, hoping you would find the resident of the room eventually.

You only got a few minutes into your walk when suddenly everything went still. The crickets and frogs stopped mid-song, even the breeze seemed to hold its breath. You froze alongside everything, senses straining to pick up any indication as to what caused the sudden change in atmosphere. Alarm bells went off and your tail instinctively started to lift in a warning display. Your breathing came in shallow little pants as your eyes darted all around you.

Then, a voice- a voice that filled you with equal parts warm comfort and icy dread at the moment.

"Well, well, what do we have here hmm? And where do you think you were off to my dear? Don't you know it's dangerous to be alone in the woods? Especially for little does like you."

"Alastor-", you spin to face him and stop dead in your tracks. His antlers hung over his head like a grand chandelier, his pupils blown wide, and his ever-present smile looked absolutely sinister. "I-I am not feeling well. I am not sure what is wrong."

He stalked towards you slowly, like a wolf cornering a lamb. "Oh you poor, naive, little fawn. You haven't figured it out yet have you? You're in heat my dear, the mating season has begun." His voiced dropped to a sinister growl at the last sentence. Your eyes widened as you began to back away from his advance, a reaction he took much satisfaction in based on the sadistic chuckle he responded with. Your back hit a tree, there was no where else to go and he quickly closed the distance between you two. As he loomed over you he took a deep breath and his whole body shuddered violently. He closed his eyes and growled menacingly.

"W-what do I do?", you asked, this was not going how you imagined it- no candles, no soft sheets, no sweet declaration of love. You were utterly lost and completely at his mercy.

He hummed, then slowly opened his eyes and bent down so you were at eye level. "Run.", his voice was a baritone whisper.

Like a bat out of-- well- here-- you took off. You didn't know or care what direction you were going in, you just needed to get the fuck away. Maniacal laughter which was more like screeching static sounded behind you but you didn't dare look back. You ran as fast as your legs would carry you, thank Satan for those dreadful runs Angel made you do. When you could no longer hear the laughter behind you, you chanced a look back. Nothing- just the bayou surrounded you. You were just about to breath a sigh of relief when suddenly strong arms wrapped around you from the front and you barreled into a sturdy body, letting out a terrified shriek.

"Considerable effort Darling but I think we should preserve your strength for the main event don't you agree? I just couldn't let you get too far ahead...especially when you smell so delectable.", he growled out as he buried his nose in your hair, his muscles pulsing with the effort not to immediately jump on you. He grabbed your jaw in one hand, keeping your body tightly bound with the other, and lifted your face to meet his. He looked hungry-no, he looked absolutely famished. Like a man who hasn’t eaten for days who happened upon a cornucopia of his favorite dishes. You closed your eyes tightly, prepared to be eaten alive.

Instead of his razor-edged teeth digging into you as you expected, he began to gently rub his face against you. From your chest to your ears he spread his scent all over your skin, paying careful attention to your throat and cheeks. When you caught his scent all the adrenaline instantly drained from your body. He smelled of the bayou soil, bourbon, and woodsmoke but it was more than just the physical notes of his scent, you had a powerful psychological reaction to it as well. It was as if he was speaking right to your mind using his smell, and he was saying ‘trust me, your safe, I’m going to take care of you’. The fog returned to your mind worse than before, you were now consumed wholly by thoughts of the buck that held you. Your entire body went slack, a rag doll in his arms to submit to his whims.

Satisfied with your entranced state he shadowed you away, placing you gently on his bed on your back. Your head lazily lolled to the side, barely registering the food and water on a table nearby. The demon quickly regained your attention when he started kissing you softly. You melted into the sheets, eagerly taking all the affection the buck would bestow upon you.

Ever so gently, like he was afraid of breaking you out of your trance, he undressed you. Once he had you completely bare before him he took a moment to admire his gorgeous, little doe. “Si beau, ma biche.” He ran his hands up your body, starting at your hips and stopping to cup your breasts. His touch was icy fire, so warm on your skin but leaving goosebumps in its wake. Your arched your back, pushing your breasts into his hands, whimpering softly when his thumbs tweaked your nipples. His hands ran south, tantalizingly dragging his claws along your skin on the way down.

The moment his fingers touched your clit it was like lightning struck you, a wanton moan ripping out your throat. He leaned up to your head once more, his thumb applying pressure on your bundle of nerves. “Be mine. I want you mind, body, and soul. I need you to remain by my side for eternity Darling. I understand that this may be an outdated request, but wherever I go, I need you to follow. In return for your devotion, I promise to protect and love you with everything I am. Every part of me will belong to you, as you belong to me. Please Darling, say we have a deal.”

For a moment, just a split second, alarm bells warned you of making a soul deal but they were quickly overshadowed by the fog whispering ‘trust me’. You felt too good, too euphoric, and you desperately needed him. “It’s a deal Alastor, I’ll be yours.”

“Delightful!”, he plunged one long digit into you causing you to gasp out. You were so wet already that he added a second finger almost immediately, his thumb circling your clit in roughly. Green light flashed and you felt your soul tether to him, like an invisible string tied around your heart and attached it to his. You came despicably fast, if the fog in your mind wasn’t so thick you’d have been embarrassed. Your body convulsed in on itself with the force of your abdominal muscles locking, a breathless whine leaving your lips.

Before you could recover you found yourself flipped onto your belly, Alastor nibbling on an ear as he raked his claws down your back. You felt the warmth of bare skin on your shoulders and realized he rid himself of his own clothing. “You taste positively sinful My Doe. Mind if I make have a better taste?”. Without further warning he flattened his tongue to the base of your tail and licked up the entire length of your spine eliciting a whole-body shudder from you, the action nearly made you cum again. He then went back down to your lower back, where he started peppering kisses on each of your spots while dragging his tongue between them. His game of connect-the-dots had you squirming underneath him, rubbing your thighs together as slick pooled at your entrance.

When the buck made it back up to your shoulders he paused, “Forgive me, My Dear”, and sank his teeth into your shoulder making you cry out, his palms holding you down by the shoulder blades. He lapped up the blood, soothing the pain. “Now everyone will know you’re mine.”

His proximity washed a new wave of his scent over you, relaxing you back into your trance as he lined himself up and sank into you. One hand fisted into your hair as the other held his weight above your shoulder. Al started with long, slow thrusts, making sure you felt every inch of his cock as it dragged through your walls. He slowly gained speed, leaving you a blubbering mess beneath him. His hand in your hair kept you pinned to the mattress, completely immobilized as his cock bullied your cervix, the coil in your stomach pulling tight. He ducked down suddenly and licked another stripe up your spine, ending at the bite on your shoulder which sent you over the edge. Your core squeezing him like a vice brought him over the edge with you and he delivered his first load of seed.

As soon as Alastor pulls out you roll onto your side, letting out a contented sigh. Your head was still foggy, but you felt sated for now. You get your first glimpse of your mate in all his naked glory; his taupe-colored body was covered in lean muscle, the black on his arms ended at his elbows and they were covered in scars. You felt the urge to return the game of connect-the-dots, but could not get your body to move presently. Your eyes trail lower and fixate on his glorious cock, girthy with a thick vein running up the underside and it was STILL.ROCK.HARD. The sight of him makes your mouth water, you let out a needy, pathetic whimper.

Alastor is on top of you again in a flash, his hips wedging against yours while his legs spread yours wide to give him access. He tenderly cradles your head in his hands as he kisses up your throat and lightly kisses the spots on your cheeks. "Don't worry Darling...we are only just getting started." And he plunges back inside you.

Hour 6- Sweat covers every inch of your body, you've lost count of how many times you've cum. Your hands fist in Alastor's hair as he sucks on your clit, his nails digging into your thighs leaving rivulets of blood on your skin. All you can do is lay there and take what he gives you, your thoughts completely incoherent and cock-drunk.

Hour 18- You finally get a brief break. Al hand feeds you fruits, nuts, and jerky of his own making. You do not have the energy to question what kind of meat the jerky is made from, at this moment you really could not care less. "You need to keep your strength up Sha, we are not nearly finished yet.", he coos at you as he held a bottle of water to your lips encouraging you to re-hydrate.

Hour 36- Your hands are holding onto the headboard like a lifeline, your knuckles turning white and arms trembling with the effort to keep upright as you get railed from behind. Alastor sucks on your neck and whispers "You are doing so well. We are almost there, just a bit longer Little Doe." You get a vague memory, a little Deja-Vu moment of why that should be comical to you, but your next orgasm thoroughly wipes the thought from your mind.

Hour 72- You are sure you are on the doorstep of your double-death. Every limb and joint aches, your cunt is feeling raw, your voice long gone from your cries of pleasure. You have no energy left, quite frankly you have no idea how the demon buck you are sitting on has the energy to bounce you up and down his shaft. The bed around you is covered in blood and the combined releases of Alastor and yourself, you do not know if you should be embarrassed or impressed. The man underneath you hisses as his cock twitches inside you, letting him know he is close. His thumb picks up its pace on your abused clit, with a strangled sob you come for what feels like the hundredth time since you started, tears flowing endlessly down your face. Using the last of his energy Alastor lift his hips up, using gravity to impale you as far down his shaft as he can get you before spending himself one final time inside you. You both collapse to the side, the only sounds filling the room being your erratic breaths struggling to return to normal. You feel his arms wrap around you as he pulls you into his chest. For once, he does not speak, there is no reason to. All the two of you need is the closeness and comfort of each other's embrace. You snuggle into his chest, letting the sound of his heartbeat lull you to sleep as you finally get to rest.

Thanks for reading! Planning on doing a part 3 that is all about the aftercare. Please let me know what you think!

@stattikdemon

@vxllys

@shealizxx

#hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #fem reader #18+ mdni

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gay-dorito-dust · 5 months ago

Note

Hi, I just wanted to ask: If you end up writing something for the monsterfalls au do you think you could do something where reader helps to groom Ford or Stan's newly acquired wings and them just loving the attention and care they give them? Also, love your stories and thanks if you decide to do this.

Stan, while thinking his new appearance was great for scaring kids on Summerween, hated his stone wings that weighed like a pair of cinder blocks.

They made sleeping difficult! How do you make sleeping difficult?! Apparently becoming a stone gargoyle.

That wasn’t even the worst thing either. Ford told him once after he complained about how his wings felt itched and irritated, almost like an itch he couldn’t scratch, that his wings needed constant preening whenever necessary as to avoid such situations from happening.

However Stan couldn’t exactly reach everywhere that needed preening and grew annoyed but his saviour arrived in the form of you.

‘Doll face! Just the person I’m looking for, would you mind helping me with my wings? They’ve been a pain in my ass this entire morning and I could really use some help in getting to the spots I can’t reach.’ He says as you examined his wings, strong and durable just like him, but oddly enough were soft like clay underneath; also just like him

‘I’d be happy to help Stanley but why me? You could’ve asked the kids or even Ford to help preen.’ You asked and Stan stiffened as he remembered the fact that Ford told him about preening; it was a mating thing to display the bond between mates amongst other reasons, which was mainly why he wanted you to preen his wings for him.

Stan scratched the back of his head. ‘Eh, none of them are in the house, doing their own thing or whether and even if they were they’d probably pull out the wrong feather.’ He quickly explains himself, hoping you’d buy it.

‘Okay, why don’t you lay down on your stomach and I’ll get to work.’ You replied after a brief moment of silence and Stanley sighed in relief as he was quick to flop on his bed, displaying his beautiful wings for you to gawk at.

Ford maybe a sphinx with pretty wings but you found Stanley’s wings even prettier, they looked as though they have priceless minerals within them, glistening beneath the light. They were a beauty to behold for those who actually cared to look at them and it never failed to take your breath away. ‘Beautiful.’ You murmured to yourself as you began to gently pull out the loose stone feathers that weighted like a pebble within your hand.

Stan felt like he could’ve fallen asleep then and there with how therapeutic he felt, he could feel his wings getting lighter with each loose feather you pulled, growling lowly in content as he closed his eyes and focused his mind on the way your hands carefully navigated his sturdy wings. He could’ve told you to be a bit rougher as they were like ordinary wings, but he throughly liked the way you treated them like they were glass and the way you run your fingertips in appreciation of them while counting the minerals within them, thinking he wouldn’t notice but he did and he couldn’t help but smile softly to himself.

He could happily stay like this forever if he could but he knew he couldn’t, so Stanley will take whatever time with you he could and keep it close to his heart to remind himself that someone does care about him and his stupid stone wings.

Ford took immense care of his wings but he often forgets that he has them when he’s deep in thought, which leads to him knocking stuff over, smacking Stanley, you or the kids accidentally with them and so on.

His wings were beautiful, majestic and fluffy, unlike Stanley’s which were the colour of gunmetal or cold stone or even gravel.

So whenever he forgets that his wings needed preening, he won’t know until you point it out to him, which is what you did.

‘Ford, did you forget to preen your wings?’ You asked as Ford looks over his shoulder and at his wings, where he could obviously see there was a few feathers that needed to be removed.

‘Ah so that’s why I’ve been in such discomfort as of recently, thank you my beloved for pointing it out. I shall preen them as soon as I’m done here.’ Ford replied but you pressed your hand onto his shoulder.

‘Why don’t you let me preen your wings for you?’

Ford blushed, he has read somewhere that pressing one’s wings was a thing only done between mates, or even that of a courting ritual amongst some bird species, but not only that but preening one’s wings was also seen as a means of survival and self care of one’s being. So the thought of the of you doing his wings for him had a whole lot more meaning to him as he would very much like you to preen his wings, but feared that he might make some…noises of enjoyment from your actions.

You saw his hesitance and said. ‘I’ll be gentle but then again it is all up to you as they are your wings, that and I don’t want to see you in discomfort or pain.’

Ford’s features softened as the blush died down. ‘Okay my dear I trust you with my wings.’

You smile as you sat yourself behind him and began to get to work in easing the loose feathers as carefully as you could, making sure you weren’t using more forced them necessary while praising Ford and his beautiful wings. ‘Your wings are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, but then again they only reflect the person blessed with such wings.’ You then sweetly kissed where his wings connect to his back, a sensitive spot for Ford, causing the man to take a sharp breath as you do so before relaxing once more.

He was a little tense to start off with but gradually Ford felt himself melt under your carful touch and caresses as he purrs low in the back of his throat, tail slowly swishing in a display of his happiness and content regarding the current situation. He knew from that moment as you placed the loose feathers into a neat pile by your feet that he didn’t want anyone else to preen his wings but you.

Then again he was never in dispute with this idea of you preening his wings, he was just a bit awkward and unsure how to ask such a task of you without it coming across too strong, or that you didn’t have a choice but to agree to preening his wings. He just wanted to spend time with you and it just so happened that his wings were also in a state of disarray when you came in, all of which was completely unplanned and purely coincidental, but Ford couldn’t help but thank fate for this moment for he would treasure it forever and always.

‘You okay Ford? I think you’re…purring.’ You spoke with a smile upon your face when you felt his tail hit against your foot, finding it adorable as the purring coming from him.

‘Yes I’m perfectly fine my dear, perfectly fine.’ Ford reassured with a smile upon his face. ‘Perfectly fine indeed.’

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arminsumi · 1 year ago

Text

SAKURA.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 — 五条悟 ⋅ fem reader

NOTE: i really liked this idea and merged it with my little daydream of Gojo being in his clan and meeting you in a small village (like before he moved to the city or something) and tweaked it just a lil bit if that's ok!! i hope i delivered, and mwa ty for your request lovely anon i hope i got it all right, enjoyyy 💐

REQUEST: Can you pls write gojo who gets the Hanahaki disease cause of reader and gojos condition worsens so to keep the strongest alive the higher ups set up an arranged marriage with reader (her mission is to love gojo so he doesn’t die but she is defensive and uncooperative at first) but then she warms up to gojo (he does everything to make her happy) and they both live happily ever after 😭💕

SUMMARY — you meet a boy on a Taiko-bashi as a child. Little did you know, he was the prodigal son of the Gojo clan, and you would be married into that family to save his life.

WARNINGS — heavy angst to fluffy fluff, he steals ur first kiss, domestic life with ur kid Megumi at the end <3 😭, unrequited -> requited love, arranged marriage, quite a lot of blood/bloody flower mentions, disease/afflicted with coughing spells (see about the fictional Hanahaki disease here. Basically u cough up flowers and/or throw up full flowers if it gets life-threatening), poor boy almost dies, there’s a scene where it’s insinuated that he throws up a full flower, some teasing/playfulness yk the usual you'd expect from gojo, lmk if i have missed a warning thank u

WORDCOUNT ≈ 4.3k

PLAY ME ♪ bouquet — Ichiko Aoba

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

When you were seven, a boy a few years older than you – perhaps two or three – passed you by on a Taiko-bashi in a small village. You remember him as the boy with peculiar eyes and white hair who looked back at you on the bridge. In your eyes, it was a very ordinary encounter with a very extraordinary looking stranger.

But in his infinitely blue eyes, there was ingrained a more meaningful and vivid memory of that encounter. He held it very close to his heart. When you and he made that brief eye contact as he looked behind his shoulder, slowing at his mother’s side, he felt a windswept, lovestruck feeling come over him. He batted his pretty lashes at you and stopped walking for a fleeting moment, as if captivated, and then went his separate way with the image of your face burned into the forefront of his mind. His kimono fluttered as he tended to walk in a gliding manner.

When you were fourteen, the same encounter happened again. A familiarly pale face with barely grown-in features looked back at you – his whole body felt a twinge of excitement. He only took one small moment to look at you and yet knew you were the same girl he saw as a child on this very same bridge.

Years went by, and the two of you kept encountering each other at peculiar times in your lives at that same bridge. Neither of you spoke to each other once, well, you didn’t say a word – but he uttered a few boyishly desperate greetings and even bowed as he glided past you to try and get your attention. If only you would have stopped for a chat, the poor boy would have given anything for that.

In some way, it felt like the two of you knew each other, though it was only your eyes that ever talked.

Come your eighteenth birthday, you were burdened with awful news. You were to be married to a man you had never met – someone from the Gojo clan. That person was apparently fatally sick with a disease you had scarce knowledge on. You asked your friend at the time, her name you’ve long forgotten by now, about Hanahaki and all she said was;

“Your lover is going to spit flowers in your face.”

You scrunched your nose up in disgust and confusion at this. A very silly image formed in your mind about the disease ever since your old friend had said that – all you could imagine was your future husband spitting saliva-wettened, half-destroyed flowers at your face.

The Gojo family and your family had always distantly known each other, hence all the visits to the village that they resided in. Your marriage to Gojo was long-debated throughout the years – yet neither you nor him knew anything about it. Neither of you prospected marriage, you were just the two strangers that passed each other on the Taiko-bashi every time the Sakura was in bloom.

The first time you and the son of the Gojo clan were introduced, it had already begun with a rocky start. You walked in when he had been overwhelmed with a coughing fit, and you were hushed back outside. The shoji door smacked shut behind you, and you heard sickly coughs piercing through the translucent sheets. When your future husband stopped coughing, and the blood and petals were cleaned up, you were brought back into the room. There were both your families and some important-looking officials in the large room, all formally sat on the tatami mats with mixed expressions. His mother seemed delighted at the sight of your face – but not more than her son.

Gojo Satoru, an eighteen-year-old at the time, with usually such a loud mouth and good joke up his sleeve, was rendered speechless when you had walked into the room. He analysed and absorbed every feature that made up the image of what he thought was the most charming and alluring creature ever to exist. Definitely a creature, he thought as you formally bowed with him, because no human could possess such an ethereal beauty.

Satoru was intrigued by you from your encounter on the Taiko-bashi, but when he was finally introduced to you he was utterly captivated.

The reasons and conditions for your marriage with the Gojo clan’s prodigal son conflicted with your strong beliefs in love and romance. You had rather aggressively told the poor boy your opinions in the days leading up to your wedding.

“I always thought,” you emphasized with a snotty tone, yet he listened to you like one would listen to the tranquil flow of the river under the Taiko-bashi, “that I would marry someone I loved, and not be forced to love…” you seemed so disappointed with how your life was turning out, that he couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for you.

“I’m a positive person, I have faith that you’ll fall in love with me in no time.” He said cheekily and winked at you. You felt very taken aback by such straight-forward flirting – you must understand, no boys in your village ever did that. They were very proper, even reserved.

He was almost charming in that instant, but then he added; “Who wouldn’t fall in love with me?”

At the time he was so full of himself that you could hardly believe there was space for any petals in his body. But there certainly was – when you left him alone in that room and stormed off, appalled by his conceit, he clutched the side of the door frame and coughed up little pink petals – enough to comprise three whole flowers.

It started worrying him, a few days before the wedding, when he started coughing more often. And not just that, but he started coughing up more petals than he had ever in his life. The peculiar disease had started during a time in his childhood that was coincidentally very close to the time he first passed you by on the bridge.

The night before the wedding, he laid in bed and brooded. And he was never the type to brood – he let life happen and moved on relatively easily. But he brooded, and brooded until it felt like he sunk so deep into his futon that he became one with it. The ceiling blurred.

What was going to happen if you didn’t fall in love?

That thought scared him so much that he violently drove it out of his mind and replaced it with an ideal daydream; he envisioned you and him cuddled up, bracing each other’s bodies, and melting into each other like real lovers do. He imagined you would be warmer than him, with that cool touch he had, and you would also stroke his hair. It was very fluffy, he made sure to point that out to you several times – but you never took a hint.

On the day of your wedding, he snuck to meet you just before the ceremony. He was crouched in the garden outside the room that you were preparing in. It’s then when he heard you voice your feelings to whoever it was helping you get ready.

“How can I love a stranger? And anyways, he is so full of himself, I can hardly believe there’s space for any flowers in there. There’s nothing I like about him.”

“Oh, Y/n, you have yet to learn about him. I’m sure you will find he’s rather charming. He is the pride of the Gojo clan, after all – he has the Six Eyes and Limitless. He’s the strongest, he’ll always be able to protect you – ”

It sounded like the woman talking about him was your mother, with how she praised him so much. She was right, Gojo thought; he could protect you from anything.

His expression was grave after hearing your thoughts. But he put on a lightened smile and masked his slight heartbrokenness when the rituals and main ceremony commenced.

It was a very formal, rigid ceremony. Gojo looked up at you sadly a few times, wishing you would spare a glance. He brooded on the idea that you’ll never love him like he loves you, and then a sickening, ticklish feeling spread in his throat and just as the closing ritual ended, he burst into a coughing fit – one of his worst yet. A bit of blood dribbled out his flushed lips, contrasting against his pale skin. Of course you were concerned – and of course you felt the urge to help and comfort him. But those feelings were purely out of the goodness of your heart.

Friends share love. But even when you and Gojo developed something resembling a friendship, it didn’t alleviate his disease. It was embarrassing sometimes, to realize that you were failing at the one thing you had to do; and that was keep him alive.

He was quite genuinely dying for you to love him.

Yet you refused to be in the same room as him for too long. Your mother had to encourage you. Eventually, both his family and your family worked together to make sure you and Gojo spent adequate time with each other. They organized meetups ranging from fancy nights-out to long voyages to weekend sleepovers. It was comical, how your families got along more smoothly than you and Gojo.

It’s the spring of his nineteenth birthday when the thought of kissing you becomes a reality. Well, it doesn’t go as he planned it. See, Gojo envisioned that kissing you would solve all his problems – he thought he could infect you with his love, somehow worm into your heart through a passionate kiss.

So when you and him sat for tea in a spacious room, kneeled side by side on the tatami mats, he went in for a kiss. You were distractedly straightening out your kimono when suddenly a pair of inexperienced, boyish lips crashed onto yours.

“Mmf!” you reacted with sheer shock – why on earth was he kissing you? The audacity, he had just insulted and made a mockery of you with a cheeky, playful attitude.

“Satoru!” you whined into his mouth.

He cupped the back of your neck and partly entangled his hands in your hair. White lashes sat pretty as he closed his eyes and glided his wettened lips over yours. For the briefest moment, you let yourself enjoy his kiss. But suddenly, as if your principles of love kicked back in and stomped on the moment, you shoved him away.

And a hard shove that was, he fell out of balance and landed on the mats with his elbows, a look of shock and surprise twisting into comedy.

“Playing hard to get?” he joked. His heart sunk ever so slightly at your rejection.

“You can’t just kiss a girl!”

“Come on, I’m your husband – if I can’t kiss you, then who is allowed to?” he asked.

You looked furious, like you were about to bite him, so he slowly started backtracking.

“I just wanted to see if kissing you would – ”

“How dare you, that was my first kiss! I thought I would have a cute first kiss, not a hasty one shared over… over a cup of tea!” you complained.

His expression changed and he started sputtering apologies. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know – I – ahuh!” he started lightly coughing.

And now it was your turn to feel apologetic, because all the bad tension between you and him brought on another violent coughing fit for him.

“I’m okay.” He choked out, eyes water and face reddened – some blood pooled at the corners of his lips, he instinctually brought his hand up to his mouth to catch any that dripped.

You rushed and kneeled over him, placing a much-needed soothing hand on his shoulder. “Satoru, I’m sorry.”

He tried to muster up a joke to lighten your worry, “H-hey, since when d’you call me S-Satoru? I thought it was strictly Go-jo.” he was interrupted by more coughing.

You comforted him, until his parents came into the room. They seemed disappointed with you, but masked it.

The night fell heavy all around the Gojo home. The barren Sakura trees’ branches subtly shook in the wind. A storm was approaching.

“Hey, sweetlips.” Gojo slipped into your room as you were in the middle of preparing for bed. “There’s a big storm comin’, if you get scared you can sleep with me.”

“Are you out of your mi-” you shut up when a sudden, extraordinary crack of lightning sounded and shocked you right out of your skin.

Gojo had a little laughing fit at your overreaction. He was completely calm at such a loud noise. Of course he was.

“I’m not sleeping with you!” you muttered angrily, but then you saw the dejection on his face – no, rather, you saw the way he tried to conceal it, and you felt bad.

Maybe tonight is the night you’ll try harder, you thought.

“Okay, well, don’t cry like a wimp if the thunder scares you ‘cause I won’t come running to soothe you.” He said and left you alone.

When he walked down the hall, his fingers grazed over his lips. All he could think about was how blissful it felt to kiss you, even if you did reject him. And he was your first kiss – maybe it was wrong to smile over that, but he couldn’t help himself as he climbed into the comforts of his bed.

A violent rainstorm engulfed the village.

As the lightning got more frequent and more terrifying, Gojo scrunched up his shoulders and half-hid his face under his blanket. He felt like a boy again, as scared of the thunderstorms as he was when he was seven years old. His pretty upturned nose peaked over the blanket, eyes glistening with tears as he recalled the fateful day you and him encountered each other at the Taiko-bashi.

He held onto that memory with a death grip. No one else ever had the honor of being so close to his heart, not even his best friend who he had made at Jujutsu high when he was seventeen. No, that heart of his he kept reserved for you. He thought to himself that night, while curling up on his side in pain, that even if he dies, at least he would die having been able to love you – albeit without reciprocation.

And then it happened. He shot up and let out a violent cough, and began spluttering over his white blanket. The thunderstorm was so violent that it muffled even the violent coughing in his room. His head felt like a dense ball of tension.

Unrequited love for many boys his age was heartbreaking, but not deadly. He morbidly laughed at that fact, observing the flower that he had thrown up onto his blanket, soaked in his blood.

He was dying.

He defeatedly closed his eyes, breathing through his blood-glistening mouth. His chest lightly heaved. “Y/n, you’re really gonna be the death of me… ah, oh well. That’s okay.” He muttered madly to himself and fell back onto his bed, too weak to stay awake any longer.

It was probably the work of the universe, but you floated down the unlit hall and tapped at Gojo’s doorframe. “Are you awake? Satoru?” you called his name in a gentle murmur.

There was an eerie silence. You slid open the door and caught a glimpse of bloodied sheets and a mangled-looking flower.

“Satoru!” you rushed over to him, stirring him awake with a harsh shake on his arm. “Satoru? Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

He groaned weakly – you felt a small relief. He wasn’t dead, though he really looked pale enough to be. His cheeks were flushed, his lips cracked and dry with residual blood.

Not a word you spoke sounded coherent to him though it was, all he heard was the soothing qualities in your voice. Though his vision was blurred, he knew it was you, because he felt the familiar air and scent of you.

He felt a strange sort of alleviation when you cupped his cheeks, murmuring something. Oh, when did he end up in a doctor’s room, laid on a patient’s cot? Weren’t you and him just in his bedroom at night, during a loud thunderstorm?

All he recalled was that you held his hand and squeezed it for a long time, while you were travelling somewhere. He remembered feeling your comforting presence each time his consciousness stirred.

“Have I died and gone to heaven?” he chuckled jokingly, feeling your lips press to his forehead.

“Huh?”

“Probably dreaming…” he muttered to himself.

“Satoru, you’re not in heaven you’re at Doctor Tanaka’s home.” You told him.

He pinched his eyes shut, overwhelmed by his afflicting sickness and Six Eyes.

“I’m so sorry…” he heard you speaking in a more tender voice to him than you ever had before. He felt the pressure in his chest lessen as you spoke, “… I was going to come to you because the thunderstorm scared me… no, actually, because I wanted to be with you. I felt this overwhelming urge to be at your side, and I don’t know why. Satoru, I’ve been such a fool. I’ve been such a scared fool, fearful of loving a stranger. Or, no, I guess I’ve feared loving someone I’m not supposed to be loving. You’re so special I feel driven away by it. But I promise I won’t flee from your love anymore, Satoru – I love you, and I’ll express it as much as I can in this feeble human form. The rest of our love will happen in the stars, after we die, I guess.”

He opened his eyes. It felt like the burdening fog that had been plaguing him since he was a little boy on the Taiko-bashi finally cleared. Everything felt fresh and sharp, and good and properly comforting. It felt like he had woken up from a long dream or arrived home from a harrowing journey through the landscapes of his mind.

“So you can be good with your words.” Was the first thing he said, and that was such a Gojo response that you knew he was okay.

“How do you feel?” you asked him, peering down at him.

He groaned and stretched and shifted around, fussing dramatically.

“I feel…” he began, and looked over at your lips. “Like I deserve to be kissed.”

“Oh, shut up you…”

He pouted. “Okay, ‘guess the kissing can wai- mmf!”

You kissed him very quickly and recoiled from shyness. His lips were divine.

He shot up out of the bed like he couldn’t just believe what happened.

“Wow.” He blinked at you. “So gutsy, you know you’re not allowed to kiss your husband!” he joked.

“You are such a – ”

“ – good kisser?”

“An idiot!” you giggled, genuinely enjoying his company.

The two of you bantered, basking in the newfound feeling of shared love. When the doctor came back in, he was preparing to witness the worst – but he was utterly surprised and at a loss for words when he walked in on you two smiling and laughing.

And it was the talk of the village. Neighbors gossiped, “Did you hear that Gojo Satoru is cured?” they spoke amongst themselves, “I heard! Apparently it’s a very romantic love story, did you read the newspaper article?”

You and Gojo drifted down the Taiko-bashi, together. He squeezed your hand when you set foot on the bridge, the cool skin of his wrist tickling your inner wrist as they pressed together.

“What are we doing here?” you asked him confusedly.

“Don’t you know this place? It’s the place we met.”

“Ooh, you’re romantic, huh?” you smirked.

A small blush crowned his cheeks.

“I’ve been romantic since the start.” He defended.

“What d’you mean! You were so cheeky!” you kicked his leg.

“I was quite a menace, I’m sorry – not sorry – kidding, kidding, I am sorry.”

He looked at you with a cheeky smirk, knowing damn well what you were talking about.

“You know…” he began, looking over the bridge at the river flowing beneath and admiring how the stream carried the Sakura blossoms. “Whenever I used to get coughing fits – bad ones – I would soothe myself with the memory of when we first met here. I can still recall the kimono you wore, and the Sakura that got tangled in your hair – and I thought about…” he came closer to you, speaking with a charming allure, “How badly I wanted to pluck that flower from your hair.”

You blinked up at him. How could such romantic words come out of him? You didn’t know how to respond.

“Ooh, did I make you shy?” he teased.

“No…”

“I totally made you shy. That’s so sweet. Are you blushing?” he giggled, putting his cool palm up to your cheek to feel the heat, “Oh, you’re blushing blushing. You could burn my hand right off.”

“Satoru!” you giggled.

“Ah!” he clutched his chest dramatically when you said his name, “Don’t say my name like that! I have a wife.” He joked.

“You are ridiculous!”

He gave you a big, toothy smile. “But you love me for it.”

“I do.” You tell him, and though he’s heard it many times after that day, each time feels like the first time you’re saying you love him.

“Gimme a kiss.” He asks.

“Come get it.” You tease, slowly backing away off the bridge.

“Seriously? You’re gonna make me chase you for a kiss? I’ve coughed up petals because of you, ‘n you’re gonna do me like this – heyyy! Get back here!”

Running into the petal-littered streets like carefree kids felt so freeing and exhilarating. He felt like he was catching up on all the fun he missed, if only you would have lived in his village as a child or visited more often.

“Got you!”

“Ah! Jesus, you scared – mmmf!”

He didn’t hesitate to take a much-needed kiss from your quivering lips. He kissed you so hard that you felt dizzied, lost for breath, rendered speechless. And he relished the love pouring out from you.

You stood there being kissed by your husband in a quaint alley, standing tiptoed on the Sakura blossom-littered ground to meet him halfway. Gojo’s heart thumped at the smallest things, like the fact you were standing on your tiptoes – that was the cutest thing in the world to him.

The two of you took a break for breath, and silently admired the Sakura blossoms as they drifted, being swept away by the wind.

Gojo looked at them, and looked at you, and thought of everything that had happened up until now. He was about to say something lovey-dovey but blurted out a dumb joke instead just to hear your laugh.

“Damn, I used to cough up those things.”

You laughed, “Your jokes aren’t good, Satoru.”

“But you laughed.” He said cockily.

“Shut up or I will never kiss you again.” You playfully threatened.

“You don’t mean it.” He tilted his head at you. You cracked a smile.

On the walk home, he kept calling you various nicknames – all flowers.

That day became a cherished memory of the past as the two of you weaved your way into proper adulthood. And the nicknames followed; he went through the whole flower alphabet, even the bizarrely named ones, even the Latin root names. When he wanted to annoy you, he’d call you prunus subgenus cerasus.

Now Gojo fusses around the living room of his tiny Tokyo apartment, preparing food for a little boy of the name Megumi. The day is full and busy, but any second he can get with you, he relishes.

“My tulip, 'gimme a kiss.” He asks.

“Come get it.” You tease.

“Ew.” Megumi grimaces, hearing this exchange right as he walks into the kitchen. He walks right back out.

“Gumi, get back here, food is almost ready.” Gojo calls after him, then leans down to try and kiss you but you playfully dodge him.

It always happens like that – he asks for a kiss, you refuse jokingly, he chases after you for a kiss and you scamper away. Like a running joke that’s a callback to your past.

“C’mere, you – ” he finally snatches you up, too needy for a kiss to play around anymore. “Stay right there and let me kiss you.”

He enjoys every second of kissing you, embracing you tight like he’s never letting go. Just like when he first kissed you, Gojo cups the back of your neck and tilts his head to deepen the kiss. It has you breathless, gasping – he’s so alluring that you shudder.

“Satoru!” you scold, “The food will get cold…” you excuse.

“Okay, okay. But you owe me extra kisses tonight.” He winks.

“You’ll have to get them out of me yourself.” You tease.

“Oh, I will, don’t you worry. I’ll take every little kiss I can.” He says determinedly.

He pecks at your lips, savoring the sound and feeling of the act.

“Ew!” Megumi grimaces, and walks out the kitchen just as he walks in like earlier.

“Gumi! Food! Sit-your-silly-butt-and-eat! You rascal you.” Gojo lifts him by the armpits, and tickles him like a real dad.

Megumi is poker-faced at the tickling.

“Y/n, tell Gojo he’s being annoying.”

“Husband, you’re being annoying.” You murmur up at Gojo.

“Am I?” he smiles down at you, giving you another cheeky peck.

Megumi sighs.

“Stop spyin’ and start eating, little lotus.” Gojo threatens playfully.

“Dad. Save the flower nicknames for Y/n.” Megumi scrunches his nose up.

Gojo's face lit up. “Okay, okay. Enjoy eating, I'm gonna go see where she went off to.”

He hurried into the bedroom where you had wandered into and excitedly whisper-shouted “He called me dad!” he gushed like he was the happiest man alive.

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cherryblossombankai · 5 months ago

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Summary: Years after the final battle, a retired Endeavor moves out of the city. You are working as his new housekeeper, and you begin teasing feelings from him that he didn't expect. Word Count: 5,025 Warnings: lots of talk about feelings, enji and rei talk about the past, all around there's some mention of past abuse and such, enji has a prosthetic arm, unprotected sex, smut with feelings (lots and lots of feelings), fem!reader, she/her pronouns for the reader, age gap relationship (reader is implied to be the same age as Fuyumi) Tag Lists: @pixelcafe-network, @actuallysaiyan, @helloiamadrawer, @satorustar, @sweet-chocolate-sweet, @hinomasumi, @renjis-wife

The dream had never changed. Deep down Enji knew his family would never truly be happy with his presence. He had tried to shake off that feeling for Fuyumi’s sake at least. Of all in the Todoroki family, she was the only one who seemed at peace with fate forcing them all together again. All she’d ever wanted was a happy family, but this was not a happy family. It never was, and it never would be.

When Rei asked for a divorce, Enji didn’t fight her on it. He’d been living alone in the old house with the ghosts of the past for the better part of two years anyway, and she deserved a chance to be with someone good. Someone who would see her gentle strength for what it is, and savor her. The last time she’d come by to make sure he had food, he’d finally gotten up the nerve to put a stop to that as well.

“Do you come here because you want to or because you feel you must?” he asked her, his voice gentle despite the raspiness it had acquired. Gentleness, something he never imagined himself practicing.

“Somewhere in between, I suppose,” her voice was unsteady.

“I don’t want you to tie yourself to me any more than you want to. I have more than enough money to hire help,” he sits back against his chair and stretches out his legs. They’re still sore and stiff, but he can stand on his own again, but he still uses a cane sometimes. “You should be using this time to do things you want to do. You shouldn’t worry about me.”

Rei sits down beside him. “A man asked me out,” she confessed with a flush on her cheeks. “I suppose it’s difficult to imagine not being married anymore. I know the divorce was my idea but—”

He doesn’t have to hear the rest to know where she’s going with this. She’s worried if it was the right choice. Despite everything she’s worried about if he will be okay when she moves on. More than anything, she’s worried about stepping forward with a new relationship.

“Is he good to you?” Enji asks.

“Y-yes, he’s very nice. We met at the library.”

“That’s good. Do the kids know?”

“No, I wanted to make sure you were truly okay with this before things progressed.”

“Rei, all I want is for you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” she admits sheepishly.

She feels guilty to an extent. Guilt is an emotion Rei has never quite been able to get over but she has slowly learned not to misplace it anymore. So much of what went wrong was out of her hands, or she’d done her best but living with Enji was certainly living with an unstoppable force. There had been a brief moment in time when it felt like they were at peace, but it hadn’t lasted long. It almost feels like she just imagined things were better than they were. But she remembered the flush on her cheeks the first time he kissed her deeply and held his face in her hands so delicately. She remembers how he fumbled with the clasps on her lingerie on their wedding night then apologized when she winced the first time they were together.

It seemed like almost overnight the gentle cradling of his hands turned into harsh slaps. The gaze that seemed concerned about hurting her when they were intimate became fierce with determination and rage. It had all fallen apart so quickly, and there was no way to pull it back together. It had taken him quite literally being beaten within an inch of his life for him to see the error of his ways. Still, they’d all paid the price.

“You should find some way to be happy too,” Rei breaks the silence. “I know you think you deserve to be alone forever atoning, and maybe you do, but everyone who loves you wants to see you happy.”

Enji furrows his brow, “No, I don’t deserve—”

“Being miserable for the rest of your life won’t change the past,” she sighs softly. “And over the last few years, we’ve all seen the change in you. Even Natsuo asks about you sometimes.”

“I have been thinking about leaving the city,” he admits quietly. “This house is much too big for me, and I just…I want quiet.”

“I think that sounds nice,” she smiles softly.

“I found a little place,” he fumbles through his pockets for his cell phone. “Well, Keigo —Hawks— found it for me,” he explains as he pulls up the house listing.

Rei takes the phone from him and looks it over. The house is a small two-bedroom in a tiny town known for its therapeutic hot springs, which are conveniently within walking distance of the house. She can see why Keigo would consider it for Enji.

“It looks nice,” she says as she flips through the photos. “Enough room for you and…Someone special.”

Enji snorts softly, “Ah yes because everyone is on the market for a broken-down hero.”

“Why not? You’re still handsome,” Rei giggles. “You could meet someone.”

“I’ll consider it.”

The weeks pass slowly. With Keigo’s help, Enji closes on the house. Over dinner he’d announced to Shoto and Fuyumi he was moving out of the city. He had texted Natsuo as well to let him know, but he didn’t expect an answer. He just didn’t want Natsuo to feel neglected anymore. He wants Natsuo to know that he’s always on Enji’s mind just like the rest of the children. He’d gone to the hospital to visit Touya as well and tell him the news, and also assure him he’d still be coming to visit him. Touya, who made a miraculous recovery due to some uncovered research from Garaki’s lab, had taken the news worse than Shoto or Fuyumi had.

“You’re running from me?” Touya had croaked, his voice just starting to recover.

“No, nothing like that Touya.” Enji’s cane taps across the floor as he comes closer to the glass looking into Touya’s chamber.

It seemed like yesterday Touya was locked in a tank, but now he’s able to have a proper bed. His skin is growing back slowly due to the regeneration cells used in his treatment. The doctors said within a couple of years he’d be healed, albeit with some scarring.

Enji places his hand on the glass, “Perhaps when you’re ready, you could come live with me.”

“You’d want that?” Touya looks up at him, tears brimming in his blue eyes.

“I’d love that,” Enji smiles softly.

Touya comes to the glass and places his hand over Enji’s. “Save a room for me, yeah?”

“Always.”

With all of that settled, the day came for him to move. He was a little nervous. Keigo and Shoto, to his surprise, came to help him move. Fuyumi did as well, but she spent a lot more time worrying about him being far away. No matter how many times he reminds her that he’s only a short train ride away, close enough for him to come to the city every day if he wants, she still worries about him being lonely.

“I know how you are,” she says as she follows the guys outside as they load the moving van. “You’re liable to just lock yourself in the house and not talk to anyone for days.”

“Well, don’t worry too much about that. I hired a housekeeper,” Keigo speaks up.

“You did what?” Enji frowns.

“Yeah, she’s a real nice girl.”

“Oh! That sounds nice,” Fuyumi grins. She and Keigo share knowing looks that Enji picks up on, but decides not to say more. The last thing he wants to do is encourage this behavior.

Once the moving van is packed up, Shoto and Fuyumi offer to drive it to the new house. Enji rides in the car with his driver.

You’re already at the house, using the key Keigo had given you to let yourself in. He had told you that you would be working for Endeavor when you were hired. Many of the housekeepers he’d interviewed walked out the moment he revealed the identity of the client, but you had remained level-headed.

“He is still trying to atone for his mistakes,” Keigo had told you.

“He helped save the world,” you smile kindly. Keigo was pleased you remembered that. “I suppose the least I can do is keep the house clean and mind my own business.”

He’d hired you on the spot, and now you find yourself getting the house ready for him to move. Keigo had even sent you some money to go buy some basics for the house. You may or may not have taken some liberties. You were putting together a bouquet on the porch when the moving van pulls up and is followed soon after by the car.

“Oh, shit,” you mutter under your breath. You hadn’t expected him to be here today. You stand up quickly with the flowers in your hand.

You see Shoto and Fuyumi first, they hop out of the moving van. You wave to them, noticing how Shoto seems a little shy when he waves back. Fuyumi smiles softly and walks up to introduce herself.

“I’m the housekeeper,” you explain after introducing yourself.

“It’s nice to meet you! It’s good to know someone will be around to help him and stuff,” Fuyumi sighs happily.

For some reason, her attitude has you expecting a feeble old man to emerge from the black car. Instead, the man who emerges is instantly recognizable as a former number-one hero. He’s tall and still broad as though he works to keep in shape despite his forced retirement. The only hint of his injuries is his cane and the few scars he has on his face.

“Hello, Todoroki-san!” you smile softly as you come down the steps to introduce yourself to him. He greets you with a kind smile before looking at the flowers clutched to your chest.

“Are those for me?” he asks uncertainly.

“Oh! Uhm…Yes!” you lie and hold out the unfinished bouquet.

He chuckles softly as he takes the flowers and blushes. He’s never been gifted flowers before. It makes his heart flutter in a way he didn’t expect. “Thank you.”

“I hope you don’t mind, I’ve been cleaning inside to get everything ready for you. Takami-san gave me some money to buy some things for the house.”

“I see,” Enji sighs softly. Of course, Keigo would make sure you take on the role of a lady of the house. He feels embarrassed at the idea of Keigo putting in so much effort just to hook him up with someone.

“I bought a few groceries, and of course, some cleaning supplies and Takami-san said you didn’t have much for decor so—”

When Enji opens the door to his new house, it almost looks as though you’ve moved in. It’s what Keigo had told you to do, start some decorating to make it feel like a home. Enji notices the pretty rugs and floral tapestries you have on the walls. He looks down at you, raising his eyebrow.

“I can take it down if you don’t like it,” you blush.

“It looks nice!” Fuyumi says as she walks in behind the two of you.

“Heh, it’s pretty,” Shoto smirks and playfully nudges his dad.

“It’s fine,” Enji groans before taking the box Shoto is carrying from him.

“Would any of you like some tea?” you offer, hoping to break the ice. You feel a little silly now; already being here when he arrived, having decorating…It didn’t matter if Keigo encouraged you to do it, you feel foolish.

“Tea would be nice,” Fuyumi says as she follows you in the kitchen. Shoto goes out to get more of the boxes out of the moving van.

“Todoroki-san, would you like some too?” you ask. You can’t help blushing when you realize he’s putting your flowers in some water.

“That’d be nice, thank you,” he responds.

While you’re making the tea in the kitchen, he sets the flower vase on the kitchen table. Then he and Fuyumi go to look around the house. He notices right away how much effort you’ve already put into it. Everything is spotless and there’s a few touches here and there that show you’ve tried to make it more comfortable.

“She seems nice,” Fuyumi comments to him as they step onto the back porch to look around at the garden.

“She does,” Enji agrees nonchalantly.

“Very pretty,” she adds.

“Oh, want her number?” Enji offers, wholeheartedly sincere in his words. Ever since Fuyumi came out to him, he’s been doing his best to be as supportive as possible.

“Not exactly what I was thinking,” Fuyumi giggles. She looks in through the door to make sure you’re not close by. “I was thinking you should ask her out.”

“You have to be kidding me! She’s the same age as my children!”

“So? If she likes you and stuff,” Fuyumi giggles.

“Absolutely not!” he insists.

“Sorry, sorry,” Fuyumi giggles. She leans against the door frame as Enji looks at the potted plants you placed out. “It’s a good thing she decorated. You wouldn’t have thought to do it.”

“She could’ve waited until I asked,” he grumbles under his breath.

“Well, your feathered friend is pretty persuasive,” Fuyumi reminds him.

Within a few hours, it’s only the two of you in the house. You’re busy unpacking boxes when he sees everyone off. His body is a little achy, as it always is after a full day of activity. He wishes he still had his youth some days, but then again he’s grateful for the clarity he’s found in his age.

“You should rest,” he says softly as he walks into the living room where you’re fussing with the curtains. You’re not quite tall enough to get the rod on the hook. With ease, he reaches over you and fastens the hook. You smile up at him before straightening the curtains.

“I should at least make your bed before I leave,” you insist.

“No, really, that’s not necessary.”

You giggle as you look up at him, “Sure it is! Where will you sleep if I don’t?”

“I’m capable of making my own bed,” Enji blushes and steps away.

“Yeah, but I get paid to make your bed,” you argue playfully.

He rolls his eyes at you, “Fine, fine. But then I want you to go home and I don’t want you coming in too early.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t overwork myself,” you brush past him and make your way to the bedroom.

He follows you, although he’s not sure why. He leans against the door frame and watches you dig the sheets out of the box Fuyumi had helpfully labeled ‘linens’ and begin making the bed. The thought suddenly crept up on him that you might be the first woman to be in his room in years. He turns away quickly and walks away.

You notice him stomping off, but of course you don’t know why. You hum softly as you make the bed then throw the pillows on it.

“Todoroki-san, should I make you something to eat before I leave?” you ask as you breeze into the kitchen where he’d been taking solace from what your presence was starting to do to him.

“N-no,” he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Call me Enji! You don’t have to use honorifics.”

“Oh,” you blush deeply. You’d spent all day wondering if you should’ve called him Endeavor-sama or Todoroki-san and now suddenly he’s permitting you to call him by first name. Yet he won’t turn to look at you and he seems so damn eager to get out of your presence. You clear your throat and when he turns around, you’re bowing at the waist. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.”

Enji feels like he’s going to melt. He shakes his head and comes closer to you, placing one hand on your shoulder to guide you to stand straight again.

“You haven’t,” he assures you softly. “I’m sorry…I didn’t expect…you.”

“Oh? Did Takami-san not tell you I was going to be here?” you blush. “Did you not want a housekeeper? I’m so sorry! I must have seemed crazy all day—”

“No! No, listen it’s fine. I’m glad you’re here to help me,” he lets out a sigh. “I just meant you’re very…Uhm…” His words fail him completely. Pretty? Yeah, sure you’re quite pretty but he can’t tell you that. Nor can he tell you that it’s been ages since he was close to a woman besides Fuyumi and Rei, one of which was his daughter and the other his now ex-wife who he never deserved to be close to in the first place. “Fuck,” he growls and turns away again.

“How about tomorrow we can start over?” you suggest shyly.

“Start over?”

“Yeah,” you come closer to him and place your hand on his back. “It’ll be good.”

“Alright, that sounds good,” he agrees.

True to your word, the next morning you come into the house with a fresh smile. You don’t even say anything about the awkwardness from the day before. You make cheerful morning conversation, and as Enji sits at the kitchen table drinking his coffee and watching you cook, he can’t help wondering if anyone in his family was ever this content in his presence. Does he deserve this feeling now? Maybe he’s a desperate old fool, but he admires you. You’re sweet and funny, even towards him. You aren’t graceful all the time, but you are confident. Even when you mess up, you giggle through it in a way he’d never be able to imagine.

As the days go on, he becomes even more of a fool for you. He can’t help it.

He finds himself at the grocery store and passing the flower section, he considers buying you some. He remembers you had a bunch of daisies in the house and he realizes they must be your favorite. He picks up a bouquet of them, but then changes his mind at the register only to then change his mind right before paying.

He comes home to the sight of you sweeping off the front porch. You were wearing a pair of corduroy overalls that hugged your curves in a way that had made him bite his lip when you first arrived this morning. He notices your bare feet. This morning your hair had been down, but now you have it pulled into a messy updo. He’s always liked long hair. Rei had grown her hair out as his insistence, but he’d been thrilled when she cut it off after their divorce. She was healing.

“How was the grocery shopping?” you ask as he comes up the steps.

“Good,” he grumbles and shoves the flowers at you. His cheeks are flaming red, and he doesn’t look you in the eyes.

“For me?” you giggle.

“Y-yeah, take them home,” he rushes past you.

You watch him go into the house, and you smile softly to yourself before going into the kitchen behind him. He’s putting away the groceries when you find a vase to put your flowers in.

“My roommates would probably just knock them over, so I think I’ll keep them here,” you explain as you set the flowers on the counter.

“Roommates?” he asks. Although you’d talked a lot about yourself, you’d never mentioned roommates. You also never mentioned a boyfriend or girlfriend.

“Oh, yeah. I had to get some roommates to help cover the bills,” you shrug.

“Is Keigo not paying you enough?” he asks and he’s already fishing into his pocket for his checkbook.

“He’s paying me plenty,” you insist.

“How much do you need?” he opens the checkbook and places it on the counter.

“Really, it’s okay!”

“Just tell me,” he presses on.

“Enji, stop!” you snap. His eyes come to meet yours. He can see right away that you regretted taking such a tone with him, and he has to fight down his own pride wanting to lash back out.

“I was trying to help,” he growls softly.

“I know, but it’s fine,” you insist. “Lots of people my age have to have roommates. We’re not all heroes making bank.”

He watches the way you force a sad smile before turning away. It had been his desire only to take care of you, but of course, he always pushes too hard and breaks the things dear to him.

The rest of the day is quiet, and for the first time in months, you don’t stick around for dinner.

He’d been shocked the first day you called out of work. You told him you weren’t feeling well, and just needed to rest. He’d been sure to keep up with all your chores for you so that you wouldn’t be overburdened when you returned. But then you called in for a second time, then a third.

It was almost a week before you finally showed yourself again. This time you weren’t smiley and happy like before. Your brows were furrowed as he sat down at the kitchen table in front of you. You’re staring into your coffee trying to get up the nerve to slide the envelope across the table to him.

“What’s this?” he asks, pointing to the little cream envelope.

“It’s…My two weeks notice.”

“Your what?” his eyes widen and he wants to pretend he’s not hearing this. Fuck, you were the only thing that made him want to get out of bed most mornings.

“I just think maybe I shouldn’t work for you anymore, Todoroki-san.”

“Why?” he feels like his chest is being ripped open. “Because of the money thing? I am sorry about that! I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s not that,” you sniffle back some tears. “It’s really not that.”

“I see,” he looks miserable. “Is it me? Did I offend you?”

“No! No, nothing like that.”

His hands are shaking as he tries to find something, anything to make you stay. He doesn’t want to lose you. Just thinking that you would walk out that door today, and he would never see you again, he felt like dying.

“Don’t go,” he pleads. His pride be damned.

Little did Enji know, you were leaving because you’d fallen for him. It happened so suddenly that you hadn’t even realized it. Everything had just fallen into place, and every time you came to work it felt more like coming home. All of his little quiet gestures, like buying you flowers and making sure to keep your favorite tea around even though you only told him once which one you liked best, had made you feel like maybe he felt the same way. When he’d offered you a check, you’d felt like a commodity instead. It had made you wonder if he only did nice things to keep you around. But now…He’s pleading. You never thought you’d hear Endeavor plead.

“I just think it’s for the best,” you whisper before standing up. You grab your purse to leave before you lose your nerve.

Enji rushes to his feet. The kitchen table is pushed aside as it just becomes an obstacle keeping him from you. The effort of pushing it sends a sharp pain through his back. At the same time, he takes his first quick steps towards you, he falls to his knees from the nerves in his back searing with pain. Still, his hands reach for you, grabbing at your skirt. He’s fought through worse pain than this.

“Don’t go, please don’t go. I’ve been alone…For so fucking long,” he pleads, not caring how foolish he looks. “I know I’m a stupid man. I’ve made mistakes, and I fucked up because I couldn’t just tell you…How I feel…”

“Enji, let me help you up,” you whimper as you try to pry his hands off your skirt. He wraps his arms around your legs instead.

“Don’t go,” he pants softly and he nuzzles his face against your thighs. “Stay with me, just…Stay!”

“Enji,” your hands are gentle in his hair as you lower yourself onto his lap. You kiss him softly on the cheek before hugging him tight, burying your face in his chest. “I…I love you…”

“Oh…oh…” he wraps his arms around your waist and squeezes you against his body. His nose is in your hair, taking in your scent and his hands are kneading at your sides. “My precious girl…” he gently kisses you. The taste of your lips makes his blood run hot, and you can feel the heat rising on his skin.

Everything else is forgotten now. He may not have told you he loves you, but every touch proves it. The way his tongue is slow and tentative against yours, his hands are gentle yet insistent as he touches you. He keeps your body pressed close to his, not wanting to part even a little from you. Even his moans, the first time you grind against him, are so incredibly desperate.

“Can I touch you?” he asks between kisses.

You nod eagerly and he pushes up your skirt. His thick fingers brush against the wet spot on your panties, making you moan softly for him. Months of shy smiles and lingering touches culminated into this hunger neither of you can contain any longer.

He pushes your panties aside carefully and begins rubbing your slit carefully. His hands are a little shaky, it’s been so long since he’s done anything like this. Already his mind his in a daze.

“Is this good?” he asks.

“Y-yes,” you pant softly and spread your legs a little wider for him.

Every moan he manages to draw out from your body makes his cock twitch in his jeans. The outline of his cock is finished off with a thick, sticky splotch of precum on leaking through. He feels needy, feral even. Your walls are hot on his fingers, making him hunger even more to be inside of you.

“I need you,” he growls as he pulls away from your kiss.

He can’t be bothered to take the time to do this properly. He needs you now, and he can tell by the look in your eyes that you need him too.

“I need you too,” you whisper.

He pushes you against the kitchen cabinet, only making space enough between your bodies for him to open his pants and push them just past his ass. Then, he’s hovering over you once more, guiding your legs around his waist. You only get the quickest glimpse of his cock and the dark red patch of hair at the base before he’s pinning you against the cabinet and pushing into you carefully. Your arms wrap around his waist and your hands rest on his ass.

“F-fuck,” you whine as his girth stretches you past anything you’ve felt before. He knows he’s big, huge even, and that’s why he’s going slow despite every instinct to slam into you.

“You feel fucking amazing,” he groans softly.

He clings to your body like he never wants to let you go. He works his way into your warm walls and pauses so you can both acclimate to the feeling once he’s bottomed out.

By the time he starts his pace, he’s rutting into you like a man gone wild. His face his buried against your chest, his mouth drooling and biting at your tits through your thin shirt. He loved that you didn’t wear a bra, he had noticed it from day one but didn’t want to be a pervert. Now he’s leaving saliva stains right on your shirt from biting at your nipples.

“You’re fucking perfect, so perfect,” he pants as he fucks you. “Love you, love you, love you…” he emphasizes every declaration of love with a deep thrust.

You can’t even make a coherent thought come out of your mouth. You can only moan and cry his name in blazes of ecstasy. It’s music to his ears, knowing he’s managing to bring you to this state. You don’t even manage to warn him when you cum on his cock. The pleasure takes over your senses completely. He can only tell by the way you grind against him and your walls clench so tight around his cock that you’ve reached your peak. His nails dig into the meat of your thighs as he feels himself reaching his climax.

“Shit shit shit,” he grunts. “Do I…fuck…pull out?”

Your hands grip tighter on his ass, “No, please!”

His eyes roll back in his head as he quickens his pace. His hips snap frantically, and he shakes when he reaches his peak. You’re filled and then some with his seed. It’s dripping out even as he continues to fuck it into you.

Finally, he slows himself to a stop. You’re limp and weak in his arms. Your head rests on his shoulders.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he rubs your back.

“Mhm,” you hum sleepily, your eyes fluttering closed.

He carefully holds onto you as he stands. He manages to hold you with one arm long enough to pull his pants up. They hang loosely from his waist as he carries you to the bedroom and gently lays you down.

“Rest,” he whispers and kisses you quickly. “Let me take care of you.”

“Will we do it again?” you ask as you watch him dig through his drawers for a shirt to dress you in. He didn’t realize until now that he’d ripped your clothes.

“You don’t regret it?” he asks as he carefully undresses you only to slip a black sweatshirt onto your body. It’s big on you, and he loves the sight of you in his clothes.

“Not at all,” you smile softly.

“Then, we’ll do it again,” he promises. “Next time, I’ll go slow. I’ll make love to you like you deserve.”

“Mm, sounds good,” you giggle as you snuggle up on the bed. “Nap first though.”

“Yes, yes, nap first,” he agrees.

#🌸.writes #enji todoroki x reader #mha endeavor x reader #endeavor x reader #enji todoroki #endeavor #endeavor mha #endeavor bnha x reader

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rin-the-cat · 8 months ago

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Spoilers for Star Trek: Prodigy

Why I'm fine with the J/C reunion, with gifs!

Ok, look. I've been shipping J/C for over twenty years at this point. Voyager was my first fandom and J/C was my first ship and maybe I'm in the minority here but I am fine with how they handled things... Because you have to remember at the end of the day this is a show written for kid and it is about the kids and a romantic relationship between two middle aged people is not going to be the priority... so we didn't get a kiss. Would it have been nice to get a kiss? Of course. But what we did get is:

This hug... like look at this... the way his closes his eye and rubs her back and leans his head a little closer head as it goes on...

And this is not a brief hug... the camera cuts away to Dal and Gwyn's reaction and to Noum and Tysess coming into the room then it cuts back and they are still hugging.

And even as they break a part they keep hanging on to each other and Chakotay says "I've thought about this moment for what feels like an eternity" like he spent all those years thinking about being reunited with his Kathryn... 😭 Plus she puts her hand on his chest and he's not even in a biobed (iykyk)

And then they look at each other like this...

and it's clear from the angle of Chakotay's arm here that he is still touching her

There's also the fact that pretty much any time Janeway, Chakotay, Dal and Gwyn are in the room together the camera will cut from J/C to Dal & Gwyn or from Dal & Gwyn to J/C associating J/C with the show's main romantic pairing... In this scene for example it cuts from J/C to Dal & Gwyn... and after Janeway and Chakotay look at each other in this shot, it cuts to Dal telling Gywn "What ever this reality throws at us, I'm glad I'm in this one with you."

And then there is this shot:

Where Janeway puts her hand on top of Chakotay's while they are literally framed by Gywn and Dal with Dal's personal log in voice over saying "maybe home isn't always a place, it's the people we trust the most."

To me this is "show don't tell" and the thing they are showing us is that these two are in love with each other. To me this is not subtle, this is not subtext. A kiss is not the only way to show that two characters are in love.

There's also the possibility that they were not already a romantic couple when Chakotay left with the Protostar and that it took this separation for them to acknowledge their feelings to themselves. (or possibly just for Janeway to acknowledge to herself how she felt about him, since I think Chakotay was already quite aware of how he felt about her.) That was my assumption all along and if that's the case, give them a chance to process and talk to each other.

Also Holo-Janeway looks so sad here... I'm sure she's happy for Chakotay that finally got home but she also knows she's lost him...😭

#star trek #star trek prodigy spoilers #star trek prodigy #j/c #janeway/chakotay

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arctichotch · 6 months ago

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captain john price x reader

angsty fic where price is MIA because it’s been stuck in my head for months and i had to write it down

wc: 2.7k

— —

It was a rare sunny day in Herefordshire with temperatures in the mid twenties. After a week of miserable rain, the weather Gods seem to have taken mercy on the people of the UK. A near perfect day, watching your three little boys out the back chasing each other around the swing set their father had built for them the summer before. The only thing that would make the day perfect was if your husband was in the garden, chasing them and hearing all four of your boys laughing and enjoying the sun.

But after seven years of marriage, you were well adjusted to the moments John missed. He’d been deployed early this month with very little warning. A mere text as you were both putting the boys to bed had him grabbing his go bag and rushing out the door with no time for anything more than a kiss pressed to the kids foreheads and a quick kiss on the lips for you. He said it shouldn’t take as long as some of his previous missions, hopefully only a week (which is one of your favourite things to hear, thinking back to the time earlier in your relationship where he was taken from you for nearly six months).

However, it was nearing the three week mark and it was still radio silence.

You shook yourself out of your worries when you felt them approaching. At this point you’re a pro at this military wife thing. You know how unpredictable things can be and you also know how capable John and his team are.

You get ready to tame the wild boys in the garden and get them ready for dinner when you hear a knock on your door. A knock that would alter your life in unimaginable ways.

——

Your heart dropped before even opening the front door. You could recognise that hulking figure, shrouded in black standing by his smaller counterpart through even the thickest of frosted glass. You almost turned around, not opening the door and returning to your happy, peaceful life with your children laughing and your husband away fighting his hardest to come home to you.

“Simon? Johnny?” Maybe John had sent them? Maybe they had returned before John and sent them to check on you and the boys? A rush of possibilities rushed through your head the moment you opened the door. You’ve known Simon long enough to know his face doesn’t exactly give much away but there was something in his eyes today that told you something wasn’t right. Johnny just stared at the floor.

“Price is MIA. We lost him.” Brief as ever was Simon. You almost didn’t compute his words. MIA? They “lost” him? But your world froze while your thoughts rushed even quicker. You didn’t know what to say or do. Could you even remember how to breathe?

Before you know it, you’re being guided by Simon into the living room to sit down while Johnny pushed a glass of water into your hands. You try to pull away from him, get more answers from them both because this couldn’t be possible. “Jesus, woman, you nearly passed out, let me help you.” Simon said, trying to get you to sit down.

“He’s missing? What does that even mean? How can he be missing?” You turned to Johnny as he almost forced you to take a sip of the water.

“Look, Simon will explain everything, OK? Where are the lads? They don’t need to hear all this.” You pointed to the back garden, feeling so extremely nauseous it rivaled your morning sickness from the twins. “Alright, I’ll go out and take care of them.” Johnny left the room and you turned to Simon expectantly.

“Right, look, I can’t tell you every little detail, but the basics are we were blindsided by an IED, and when Gaz and Soap woke up from being knocked out, he was gone.” He dropped his head in his hands and sighed (perhaps the most emotion you’d ever seen from him.)

“Didn’t see any bastard enemies nearby but they must have been lying in wait for us to trigger the bomb ready to take someone, and who better than the Captain of the taskforce trying to destroy their little gang.” He shook his head. “We’re heading back out tomorrow. We had to come home and regroup, gather more intel and shit. Gaz had to get his head checked but we’re going to find him.”

“When did this happen?” You asked, dreading the answer.

“Six days ago. We’ve been looking non-stop since though and we’ve got all the resources of the CIA at our disposal. You know Kate’s soft-spot for John. We won’t stop until he’s back in this house.” He looked straight at you, you could feel the sheer determination rolling off him in waves. John was his family too, you reminded yourself. They would fight just as hard as you would for him.

“You said he was taken, right? Who has my husband, Simon? Where did they take him from?” You begged him for answers, needing to fill in the gaps in your mind.

“Look, I can’t tell you for your own safety. We still don’t know all the players in this game so I’m not going to risk your and the kids’ safety. It’s not worth it. All you need to know right now is that we are going to find him. I promise you that much.” You felt the tears rolling steadily down your face, dropping off your jawline onto what you now realise is one of John’s shirts.

“What are they doing to him?” You whisper, not sure you even want to know. From Simon’s look though, it can’t be good. He doesn’t reply, as Johnny walks into the room with your youngest, Sammy, on his back.

“This little lad wanted his Mummy and wouldn’t wash up for dinner before he saw his second-best Uncle Simon.” He said hesitantly, fearing he had walked in before you were ready. But he wasn’t going to risk a three-year-old tantrum, you had enough on your plate as it was.

You wiped your tears quickly before Sammy launched himself at you. Your other two boys rushed in, their hands still wet, and threw themselves at Simon. You looked at them all with a teary smile, wondering what the next steps were for your family.

——

Johnny and Simon stayed for dinner, helping you with the kids before heading back to base with final whispered promises that they would find John and bring him home.

As you tucked your oldest boy, Thomas, into bed for the night, the twins already fast asleep across the hall, he asked “Are you alright, Mummy?” Tommy was wise well beyond his years. You should have known your tears earlier and your quietness at dinner wouldn’t go unnoticed by him. “Is something wrong with Daddy? Is that why Uncle Soap and Simon were here today?”

“Oh Tom, I’m okay, I promise. Daddy is at work and Simon and Johnny came to visit so they could go back and tell Daddy how good you boys are being. They’re like Daddy’s spies.” That made him laugh, which was all you could hope for right now. With a final kiss to his forehead, you left him to enter his little dreamland.

You felt awful lying to him, but he was just so young. You knew so little about what was happening right now with John, that it would be unfair to plague his little mind with such worries. You’d sit them down tomorrow and tell them the mission will take longer than expected, but that Daddy was fighting his hardest to get home to them. Which you knew wasn’t a lie. John would fight his absolute hardest to make it home, you knew that much for sure.

——

It was two months before you saw any of the 141 in person again. This time it was Gaz at your door. They had been in contact, sporadically and mostly through Kate, so you didn’t get your hopes up when you heard his knock. If they were close they would have said something.

You left the boys watching Bluey on TV in the living room and took Gaz into the kitchen, not wanting the boys to see him before you’d gotten an update from him.

“Well, don’t leave me hanging, Gaz! Are you close?” You questioned him.

“We’re closer than we have been.”

“Well, what the fuck does that mean?” You couldn’t take any more of this cryptic bullshit from the four of them. You wanted straight answers and nobody was giving you any.

“Look, you know I can’t tell you details. But we have some very promising leads and we’re getting closer every single day, ok? I’m sorry that’s all I’ve got for you.” He sighed, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

“I’m sorry, Kyle. I’m just… completely at the end of my rope here. I don’t know how much longer I can tell the kids he’s at work and everything is fine. Tommy can’t understand why his dad wasn't there for his first day of school when they’d had it all planned out. I’m at a loss for what to do.” You wiped the sly tears that had begun to fall and got up to fix Gaz a cup of tea. “So, not to be rude but if there’s no news what are you doing here?” You asked, hoping he’d ignore your little breakdown.

“I was over this way following some leads and we all figured Price would kill us if we didn’t check in on you and the lads every so often, so thought I’d pop by.” You smiled, knowing John would have their heads if they left you alone during this shitty time.

“Well, the boys will be delighted to see you, I’m sure.” You smiled weakly at him. He took his tea and headed into the living room, ready to entertain them for a while to give you a bit of a break.

——

It had been four and a half months now and your hope for John’s safe return was slowly wilting. Everyday was a struggle. You maintained your usual facade for the boys but at night you broke down. Every single night, you’d cry and scream into your pillow, begging whoever was listening for your husband to come home. The constant thoughts of the pain and suffering he was in kept you up all night long. That was on the nights you could still believe he was alive. Every morning you looked like hell doing the school run. It was an endless cycle.

You felt the boys were losing hope too. The communications became few and far between. Logically, you knew they couldn’t look forever. John was just one man. They had the whole world to protect. But this was your whole world and if they weren’t fighting to get him home, you had nothing.

You had told the kids at the six weeks mark. Tommy kept asking for his Daddy to come home and take him to school so you had to tell him something. You scoured the internet on how to tell a five-year-old that his father was kidnapped in a war by evil bastards and you didn’t know if he’d ever come back. Unsurprisingly, there was very little online on how to achieve this. You certainly didn’t know what to tell the twins. Honestly, you aren’t even 100% sure of what you said to them, but it stopped the constant questions of “when is Daddy coming home?” without severely traumatising them, which is all you really needed.

The last flame of hope within you had been extinguished.

——

By month seven, you felt like a ghost of your former self. You didn’t cry anymore. You kept the house as happy as possible for the kids. At this point John had missed the twins' fourth birthday and Christmas, which was hard for you all. But you had to keep going, you had no choice. There were three little boys relying on you for everything and even though half of your heart was missing, you had to keep fighting through.

It was a Sunday when you got a knock at your door.

It was Simon and Johnny again. They were going to tell you they had found your husband dead in some desert halfway across the world.

Or not.

“We got him.” Once again, brief as ever was Simon. “He’s alive, we got ‘im.”

“Right, bonnie, I’ll stay here with the boys, Simon will drive you to the hospital, alright?” When he saw you still frozen in the doorway he said, “Should kind of get a move-on, yeah? Gaz is with him trying to chain him down to the hospital bed before he walks here himself. Figure it’s probably better to bring you to him.”

You felt Johnny brush past you to find the boys, exclaiming as he went “Boys, your favourite uncle is here, come give me a hug.” As they came out to greet him, Johnny explained you were going out for a bit with Simon. “Go on, give your mum a hug, she’ll be back soon.”

You shook yourself out of your trance just enough to give them a quick hug and tell them to be good for Johnny.

You felt like a ghost walking out your front door with Simon. Was John really alive and at a hospital within driving distance?

Your silence seemed to freak even the famous Ghost out because he was the one to start the conversation when you were both on the road. “He’s not looking too great, but he’s not critical or anything. He’s awake and won’t sit still, the old bastard. He keeps asking for you.”

You were still in shock. Your ears were ringing. “He’s alive?”

“Mhmm. Yep. Not exactly in the prime of his health, all things considered. But he’s alive. He’s on the med unit at base, refused to go to an actual hospital because it’s too far away.”

“Sounds like him.” You mumbled a bit. At least they had the real John back and not a clone or something. “What did they do to him?”

You saw Simon glance at you for a moment before turning back to the road. “Ah… that’s not my place. Up to him on what he wants to share with you, I think.”

You both sat in silence for the rest of the drive, you still not really believing your ears that your husband was alive and mere miles away from you.

——

Despite being married for so long, you’d never actually been on base. It was an odd experience and you tried to take in as much visual information as possible while you followed Simon’s long strides, presumably to the med wing.

You heard him before you saw him. Well, more accurately you heard Gaz giving out to him then you heard him.

“You can’t keep me here. I need to see my wife and kids, Gaz. Let me fucking go!”

“Sir, with all due respect I don’t think you’re in any state to be anywhere but here. You need to sit down and let these doctors help you!”

Before John could say another word, Simon opened the door and you stepped in behind him. “John?”

He turned to look at you. Fuck, did he look awful. His face was covered in cuts and bruises, his hair and beard were overgrown and a complete mess. He had lost weight wherever he was too. But it was him, it was John.

You almost tackle hugged him, before thinking that’s probably not the best idea considering the state he’s in. But having him hold you again was unlike any other feeling in the world.

You cried into the hospital gown covering his chest. You couldn’t believe this was truly happening. After seven months of pure hell, you had your husband back in your arms, alive.

You felt his own tears falling onto your head as he pressed kisses into your hair, mumbling unintelligible words to you.

You knew the road ahead of you both was a long one, but you’re glad you have him by your side once again to fight your battles.

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lincolndjarin · 1 year ago

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Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty six : crucifixion

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 12.7k

summary : judgement day.

warnings: major character death, above canon typical violence, very brief references to suicide, torture, body horror (briefly), feelings of despair, blood, wounds, general kodo grossness, vomit (reader vomits several times, it is never described in detail), language, angst, brief smut, pregnancy, death, reader is not doing well in this like she's at a breaking point, i may have missed some so feel free to let me know.

a/n: please read the warnings on this chap! it's the most serious of the bks updates, definitely a bit more intense than the rest. gonna work on getting 27 out within the next few day. i've been terrified of releasing this chapter since i started writing it so once i post this i'm going to dig a hole and sit in it and hide for a while lmao.

i changed my editing style so if there's spelling errors lmk!! apologies in advance!!

“My room is too big.”

He bursts into genuine peals of laughter and you gently smack his arm.

“Don’t laugh, it’s a serious issue! My room is enormous.” You’re giggling along with him now, it’s the hardest you’ve ever heard him laugh. You both just laugh for a few minutes, as if each other's company is the most amusing thing in the world.

Once your giggles fizzle out you wait another moment before breaking the silence.

“Where did you grow up?” You can’t see him but you can sense where he sits in the darkness, you crawl forward so you’re sitting between his legs, your own legs wrap around his waist. “I’m just curious.”

“Aq Vetina.” You can’t recall anything about the planet. You aren’t even sure you’ve heard of it.

“Do you remember your parents well? You don’t talk about them very much.” You put your hands on his shoulders, ever so slowly moving them up to his neck until you’re cupping his face.

“I’ll never forget them.” He whispers.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We can’t change the past.” You rub your nose against his, bumping them together as you hum and nod. “My mother loved ships. We didn’t travel, we never had a reason to, but she would take me outside and we’d watch ships fly past. I could never comprehend how she knew the name for all of them, it blew my mind.” You wrap your arms around his neck, staying silent in hopes that he’ll continue, he so rarely speaks so much. “My father worked a lot but he always made time for us, he was always home in time to say goodnight to me. He was always around when I needed him, he always provided for us. On his day off he’d spend the whole day cooking, I’d sit on the kitchen counter and tell him what my mother and I had done that week. When she’d come home we’d all eat dinner together.”

“You sound like you were a happy child.” You can’t help but smile.

“I never had reason to be otherwise.” He says it so matter of factly that you don’t doubt it for a second. He was loved. It only makes you smile wider.

“What were you like, as a child?”

“Well behaved.” You immediately begin laughing once more.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it. My mother homeschooled me, she always made sure I had manners. I wasn’t particularly athletic or talkative so I didn’t play with other kids a lot. It was just me and mama.” He sounds far away, it makes you want to hold him close and never let him go.

“So what did you do all day?” Your tone has softened significantly.

“I would sew.”

“Be serious.” He’s the one who laughs now at the disbelief in your voice.

“I am! I would sit with my mother after my lessons and we’d sew.” His fingertips dance along the back of your neck as he reminisces.

“What kinds of things?” You don’t tease. When you really think about it you suppose such a hobby is fitting for him. A task that requires precision and care.

“I would help her make clothes and blankets that she would sell most days. On the weekends she’d let me do whatever I wanted so I would practice my embroidery.”

“My heart is actually about to explode out of my chest, you’re so cute.” You put on a mocking tone but the thought of such a thing really does make your heart clench. “Little Din Djarin stitching his name into his clothes.”

“You’re a cruel woman.” He leans forward, knocking his forehead against yours, almost as if he were reprimanding you.

“What sorts of things would you embroider?” Your tone goes back to genuine, you could listen to him talk about himself for days and you’d never get bored.

“Whatever my mother wanted. I would ask her what I should do and then I’d stitch it onto her blanket or the hem of her skirt. Mostly flowers, she loved daisies.” You’re pretty sure one of your ovaries literally popped at the thought of a little boy with dark curls and big brown eyes sitting beside his mother and embroidering a daisy onto her skirt. Your heart flutters a bit as you think of the necklace he got you. The silver outline of a flower you now realize is a daisy. “If he was ever gone for more than one night for work my father would bring her daisies, one for each day he was away.”

“Do you still know how?”

“I used to fix Grogu’s clothes when he ripped them but I haven’t done much else since I was a boy. He says it with finality but you carry on, not wanting him to stop talking.

“What were their names? Your parents?”

“Clara and Arin Djarin.”

“Those are pretty names.”

“What was it like for you? You said you had seven siblings right?”

“Eight actually.” You think of them now. There were eight of you and your parents' love for all of you combined wasn’t even a tenth of how much Din’s parents loved him.

“Do you like having a big family?” He lifts you off of his lap, laying you back down as he crawls on top of you, laying against your chest.

“I love it. I miss my siblings everyday, do you think we’ll be able to visit them someday?”

“If it’s safe to, of course we will.” He tilts his head, if you weren’t in darkness he’d be looking at you.

“I wish they had visited here. They would have loved you.”

“You think?”

“Are you kidding me? The younger ones would adore you.” You tangle your finger in his hair, scratching his scalp. “Kids just naturally like you.”

“They just haven’t learned to fear me.” You frown when he says it like a fact.

“I think it’s more than that.”

“Yeah?” The hopeful tilt to his voice has you leaning down to press a kiss into his hair.

“Kids are intuitive, they can sense that you’re a good person.” He tenses up as you tell him he’s a good person. You know exactly what he’s thinking about now, how he punched your husband and then refused to leave.

Neither one of you wants to talk about that though, not today.

“What kind of room would you want? Since your current room isn’t to your liking.” He’s quick to change the subject and you let him.

“In all honesty, I like the cabin, I wish we could just live there.” You run your fingers through his curls as you think about it, gently pulling through any tangles.

“My cabin?” His voice is full of uncertainty as he pulls back a bit.

“It’s nice.” You feel a bit defensive, you consider the cabin to be the closest thing you have to a home. “Can you imagine getting to stay on Naboo? We could spend our mornings walking the market.” You rest your hand on the back of his neck now. “We could get jobs in the city, and then at night we’d come home.”

“To the cabin?” He still sounds rather skeptical of your hypothetical future.

“I’d cook dinner, you’d do the chores.”

“The cabin’s a bit small for us.”

“We’d make it a bit bigger, add a few bedrooms, we don’t need that much space.”

“A few?” He turns his head, his lips brush against your collar briefly as he kisses you there, freezing up when you speak again.

“At least two, one for us and then some for any little Djarin’s who might need space.” With that he sits up entirely, his legs straddle your stomach.

“Little Djarin’s?”

“And Grogu, he would come live with us as well.”

“You’d want him to live with us?”

“Of course, he’s a little Djarin.” Your hands rest on his thighs now as he seemingly ponders above you. He hums to himself in silence for a moment and you can’t help but grin at how seriously he’s taking all of this.

“How many?” He finally speaks again and you laugh at the bluntness of his question.

“Kids?”

“How many would you want?”

“You go first.” You haven’t ever talked about this sort of thing so you want to gauge his answer first so you don’t scare him too much with all the kids talk.

“Maybe five? Or six.”

“Six?” Your voice pitches up immediately and you feel a rumble in his chest as he laughs.

“Or five.”

“How about two, counting Grogu.” Turns out you didn’t need to worry about scaring him off.

“How about three?” Three is manageable.

“Counting Grogu?”

“Counting Grogu.” He seems satisfied with that.

“I suppose we could have three, you’re the one who has to build all the extra bedrooms.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I’d work at the library and you’d work in a shipyard, we’d take turns staying home with the kids.” You pull him back to you, taking his hands and dragging him to lay his head on your chest once more.

“I’ve got enough savings, neither one of us has to work if you’d like.” It sends a twinge of pain to your heart how real this conversation has become, knowing that this exact dream isn’t possible.

You could always make parts of it real.

Someday.

“I’d want to work, to get out of the house, but you could stay home if you’d like.”

“When they’re still ik’aad, at least for the first few years I’d want to be with them.” He’s going to be a wonderful father.

“Then I’d work, not long hours, just enough to get me out of the house, when I come home I’d give you a break, you could do the shopping and I’d watch the little’s.”

“We’d go as a family, I wouldn’t want ‘a break.’”

“You’d want to wrangle three kids in the markets?” You scoff in disbelief but he continues to sound completely serious.

“They’d be well behaved.” You seriously doubt that.

“What about either one of us makes you think our children will be well behaved? Is Grogu well behaved?”

“We’ll manage.”

“They’ll be wild.” They will, not they would.

“And smart.” He sits up again, hovering above you to give you a quick kiss.

“And happy.” There isn’t a doubt in your mind that your children would be happy with Din as their father.

“You’d really want to live here? I could build us a house anywhere.”

“I like Naboo, at least everything outside of the castle. I don’t even mind the castle, I just don’t care for the people inside it.” It’s true, somewhere along the way this place grew on you immensely. You love the city and the people in it. “And they’d get to play in the garden.”

“I would build you a cabin anywhere you wanted, and I’d plant you a new garden.” He kisses along your cheeks and forehead as he speaks.

“You wouldn’t need to plant me a garden if we lived here.” You insist.

“We can’t live here, mesh’la.” He rubs a small circle with his thumb against your cheek. “This is too serious now, we’re supposed to be relaxed today.”

“When did we agree on that?” You muster up a weak laugh.

“It was a silent mutual agreement.”

“I’m plenty relaxed.” You mumble. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his stubble tickling you as you let out an airy giggle.

“I’m actually very tense and I think we should take a break from all this talking and take care of that.” He mumbles against your shoulder.

“Oh?”

“Mhmm.” He emphasizes his point by pressing his erection against your hip, you hadn’t even realized that this is where he was going with that.

“How long have you been waiting to jump me?”

“When we started talking about the five kids I was gonna put in you.” He continues to nip at your neck and shoulders as he speaks.

“Skipping the agreed upon three and going straight to five already? You’re not even going to attempt to negotiate for four?”

“So you’re open to four?” He pulls back and you can hear his smile.

“Let’s start with one and go from there.”

“Right now?” His hips stutter down a bit against yours.

“Maker, you’re insatiable.” You both burst into another fit of laughter.

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“I could get pregnant, and considering the lack of sex I’ve had with my husband I’m sure that might raise a few eyebrows.”

“It would never get to that point, when we’re in the clear with this whole Kodo mess I’m getting you out of here.”

“Like… actually leaving Naboo?”

“Exactly like that. I’m gonna take you far away from here when this is over, gonna keep you all for myself.” His hands move down, giving your hips a squeeze.

“I’m already yours.” You laughed, rolling over to be on top of him. He’s right, if you’re going to leave anyway then what’s the worst thing that could happen?

You never talked about that night after that.

When everything sorted itself out you realized how crazy your fear had made you. You couldn’t just leave. At least that’s what you’d told yourself, now you feel like an idiot for not holding him to his words. It wasn’t realistic, you both knew actually leaving would take so much more preparation than a few whispered ideas during a time where neither one of you was in any position to be making such promises.

It was just talk.

Lysa came to get you from the dining room.

After everyone left you had no motivation to move, you just stood there, frozen in time. After a few hours she found you, she had taken your hand and walked you back to your chambers. She held your hand, she kept you upright when you threatened to crumble. And when you felt a wave of nausea ripple through you she rushed you to the fresher, a hand on your back as you threw up all over again.

You sat breathlessly on the tile, Lysa rubbing your back.

“Gods, I’ve been nauseous since the wedding. Even before everything fell apart.” It’s the first words you’ve spoken since they took Din, your stomach is still churning. “This has never happened before.” You groan, you’ve had many moments of upset throughout your life, but none that made you physically ill. Lysa looks almost painfully worried.

“Ma’am… is there a chance you might be…”

Kriff.

You never talked about that night after that.

Maybe you should have.

You both did a lot of things during those days. You had been so angry, and he had done everything in his power to ease that anger, to keep both of you as happy as someone could be in your situation.

You shouldn’t have used that as an excuse to be reckless.

“I’d like to go to bed.”

“Of course.” She helps you to your feet, walking you back to your room, you turn to her one last time before you close the door.

“I’m sorry. Elaine never should have gotten involved in all this.” You’d trade places with her in a heartbeat if you could.

“It’s not your fault.” She truly seems to believe that.

Except it is. Elaine never would have found herself in this situation if she hadn’t so often been helping the two of you keep your secret.

“Goodnight, Lysa.”

“Goodnight, princess.”

You lay on the bed, unable to bring yourself to sleep in the closet.

It’s cold. Colder than Hoth, as you stare at the ceiling in your far too big bed in your far too big room. Even bigger now that it’s just you.

You let your hand roam down your torso to rest on your stomach.

Just you, hopefully.

☆

You’re now having nightly dinners with Kodo.

You don’t get any respite from him, you just want to stay in bed. You’re nauseous and tired and your head hasn’t stopped spinning since that night. A million thoughts a minute.

Where is he?

Is he okay?

What the fuck can I do about it?

Mostly that.

The worst part is your lack of a plan. If the roles were reversed Din would have already rescued you and you’d be living happily ever after.

But that isn’t how your story is going. Instead you are alone, with no scheme on how to get to him. It’s only been three days but it’s driving you insane, you have never known such hopelessness, it’s maddening. To sit alone in your room all day, staring at the ceiling until Lysa comes to dress you for dinner. Neither one of you ever speaks, afterall, what would you say to each other?

“I’m sorry the love of your life had been sentenced to die?”

How morbid.

Not that you’re above being morbid.

You think about it often. How easy it would be to drive your dinner knife into Kodo’s throat. You’re seated beside him now at dinner, both of you at the head of the table, joined by the rest of his family.

The thought of killing him is the only thing that brings you peace these days. You’ve never once in your life been violent until now. Din is good. He’s a good man. In every way he is the opposite of your husband yet Din is the one locked away, Maker knows where, while Kodo is being rewarded.

It doesn’t make you mad, it makes you furious.

It makes you want to poison his wine.

But you don’t have poison.

And you can’t put yourself in danger. Because you feel fundamentally different, and even if you refuse to think that such a thing is possible you know you wouldn’t just be putting yourself in danger. There’s more at stake now.

That’s what you tell yourself to stay calm, a feat that is getting harder by the minute as you’re sat beside Kodo who is currently bragging about how he defeated a Mandalorian.

“They aren’t as strong as you think they are. Under the armor they’re weak, pathetic.”

It took six battle droids to keep him down. You didn’t even get near him.

“Some people just need to be taught a lesson, don’t touch what isn’t yours.” He sneers and the rest of the table erupts into laughter. “I certainly taught that horned bitch a lesson as well, you all should have seen what they brought me last night.”

You perk up, this is the only thing they’ve said in days that truly matters to you. You’ve heard nothing about the current state of either of them until now.

“What did they do to Elaine?” Everyone’s head turns to you, all their expressions look as if you’ve announced something treasonous but Kodo smiles as if he were explaining something to a child.

“She was properly punished, the way someone who observed such a crime with no intervention should be.” He puts his hand over yours when he says it.

You don’t ask for any follow up.

You don’t think you could stomach it, so you stay silent for the rest of your meal. When you’re finished you stand, the rest of the table is starting to pour more drinks but you simply lean down, mumbling something about being tired before giving Kodo a quick kiss on the cheek and dismissing yourself.

You’re waiting for the night where he joins you in your chambers, after all his father is dead, but it has yet to happen. He had told you that once he was king he would be in need of heirs but he seems happy enough with his pleasure houses and you’re more than grateful for the women you entertain him so you don’t have to.

So you return to your chambers alone, peeling off your gown before burying yourself under the covers.

Sleep evades you as you toss and turn. You aren’t even tired, there’s too much going on in your mind, there’s no room for exhaustion. After about an hour you manage to drift in and out of unconsciousness, earning a brief reprieve from your anxieties until a sharp knocking has you jolting upright.

You don your robe, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you rush to the door, you’re too tired to wonder who might even be bothering you at such an hour as you pull the door open.

Lysa?

“We have to hurry, ma’am.” She grabs your arm, frantically tugging you into the hall.

“Lysa? What are you doing? Are you okay?”

“I am fine, but we don’t have much time.”

“Surely you have enough to tell me where we are going.”

“Do you want to see him or not?”

Din.

You nod, taking her hand as he rushes onward, stopping at each hall to peer around the corners until you make your way to a servants stairwell, skipping several steps in your descent until you run out of stairs. You’ve never been down here, you didn’t even know there were dungeons until recently.

It makes your stomach twist in knots the moment you stare into the darkness.

“Are there no guards?” You whisper, squeezing her hand.

“Not for the next hour, I’ve made sure of it.” She begins walking down the poorly lit corridor, pulling you along behind her.

The stone floor is damp and it smells of mildew. Your bare feet are already freezing after just a few steps.

Every cell you pass is lit from the outside with a hanging lantern, they’re mostly empty, but you catch glimpses of movement out of the corner of your eye every now and then. In all honesty you’re doing your best to take in as little as possible, you don’t want to think about Din being down here in such a place, but there’s one element you can’t ignore.

The wailing.

Someone is weeping, a low, sorrowful song filling the vast maze of halls and you realize quickly you’re heading in its direction, Lysa tenses beside you as you continue on. You’re about to turn one more corner when she abruptly stops, turning to face you.

“He needs to eat.” She removes a fistful of rations from her apron pocket, shoving them into your hands.

“He hasn’t?” He’s been down here for three days.

“He won’t… let me.” You pause, cocking your head to the side and she gives you an apologetic look when she turns. “He won’t let me uncover his face.”

Oh.

“I’ll feed him.” You nod slowly, tucking them into your own pockets before turning the corner. The contents of the cell immediately on your right have you stumbling backwards but Lysa is not swayed, pulling a key from her pocket, unlocking the door quickly before handing it to you.

“He’s two cells down, on your right.” She doesn’t look at you as she rushes in, pulling a roll of bandages from her dress. “Shh… it’s okay, I’m here.” Her voice goes soft as she kneels beside Elaine. You can’t help it as you step into the entryway of the cell.

Well, you’ve found the source of the wailing.

She’s sat on a cot, curled in on herself as Lysa carefully peels back a series of soiled bandages from her face.

“I’ve got you, it’s just me.” She continues to make an attempt to sooth a rather hysterical Elaine as she peels back the final layer of bandages and your stomach flips. “You’re okay, love, I need to change these.” You don’t know how Lysa is so calm, even in the darkness you can see the extent of her wounds. Now you know what they brought Kodo last night.

Both eyes.

“She was properly punished, the way someone who observed such a crime with no intervention should be.”

Oh gods.

You’re worried you may collapse as you watch Lysa tend to her with no hesitation, cleaning them with a careful hand before she begins to redress them. You can’t bear to watch any longer as Elaine begins sobbing once more. You try desperately to force the sight of your mutilated friend from your mind as you count down two more cells before quickly fumbling for the lock, letting it hit the floor as you take the lantern outside the door off its hook, bringing it into the dark room.

It isn’t like Elaine’s cell.

There’s no bed or interior light, it’s terribly dark and fetid, his cell running deeper than her’s. It takes a few steps for you to finally illuminate the room enough to see him.

Maker.

What have they done to your Din?

You don’t hear Elaine anymore, there isn't a single thing that could distract you from the scene in front of you. There is nothing but the sight of your kar’ta. There’s too much for you to worry about, you don’t even know where to start, you’re frozen in place, a small part of your brain refuses to recognize the man before you as Din at all. He shouldn’t look like this.

Armorless.

They’ve stripped him of any clothing you recognize, the thought alone makes you nearly lose your dinner.

They took his helmet, replacing it with a linen sack.

Did they see his face?

You briefly have to shut your eyes, taking a deep breath as you take in the rest of him. His clothes are too thin, he must be freezing, they’ve dressed him in a cotton tunic and trousers that end just below the knee. You can see just how beaten and bruised he is. Unlike Elaine he’s in chains, kneeling on the floor with his hands shackled, taut above his head. You swallow the lump in your throat and finally crouch down in front of him, setting the lantern down beside you as you reach out to place a hand on his chest.

“Din…” Your voice cracks and the moment you come in contact with him he flinches back. Suddenly you know how Lysa held it together so well with Elaine, she just had to. You can’t fall apart, who would care for him now if you did? “It’s me, just me. Just me.” You whisper and place a hand over his heart but withdraw it quickly when he trembles under your touch. You ache at the sight of it but more than anything you’re confused, it only takes a moment for you to realize the issue.

He doesn’t have his helmet. They’ve not only left him here blind, but deaf, of course any touch would frighten him.

He assumes you're here to harm him.

You lean in, careful not to come in contact with him as you speak clearly and loudly.

“Din?” His trembling stops instantly. You find it a bit troublesome how much worse his hearing seems to have gotten in such a short time, you’re half tempted to reach under the bag to make sure he still has his ears.

“Sarad?” Oh, Din. His voice is terribly small and it sends you forward, wrapping your arms around him as you pull him into an unreciprocated embrace.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You make sure to speak loud enough for him before pulling back, placing your hands against the fabric covering his face.

“Are you okay?” He coughs a bit as he asks and you almost laugh at how ridiculous the question is considering the state he’s in. Are you okay?

Technically no.

But far better than he’s doing.

“I’m perfectly fine, what can I do for you? Are you hurting?” You feel his face through the bag as you look down across his body. It doesn’t look like there’s been any permanent damage outside of a pretty nasty cut on one of his legs.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Now’s not the time to play the hero, Din.” He flinches a little and you calm your tone immediately. What the hell did they do to him? “Just let me help.”

“How’d you get down here?”

“Lysa, she says you aren’t eating.”

“She’d have to lift my- the bag to do it.” He sounds apologetic, as if you could ever fault him for following his creed.

“It’s okay… may I?” You bring your hands to the hem of the bag but his head turns sharply.

“I- I don’t want you to look.”

You have no response. He’s always wanted you to look.

“I just, I don’t think you wanna see the condition I’m in. I don’t want your only memories of my face to be this.” He whispers when you don’t respond.

You should have looked when he asked you to. You should have done a lot of things differently.

You shouldn’t have waited so long to look.

You shouldn't have waited so long to tell him you loved him.

You should have just let yourself love him. Why did you fight it for so long? It seems silly now. If you could do it all again you would have just taken his helmet off the first night you met him and you would have married him right then and there. You would have left Naboo that night.

And you would never keep any of it from him. You would tell him how important he is and how loved he is, you wouldn’t make him wait.

Even now you can’t help it though, censoring yourself out of fear. Do you tell him about how nauseous you get every morning? About the way Lysa stares at your belly when she does your makeup?

No.

It wouldn’t do either of you any good, not when he’s in this situation.

You take hold of the edges of the bag once more, gentler this time.

“I’ll close my eyes.” You lift the fabric completely off of him, setting it in your lap as you simultaneously shut your eyes. You keep one hand on his face, using your thumb to find the corner of his mouth as your other hand fumbles to open a ration bar. You feel him part his lips as you feed him. He’s barely chewing, eating quickly and swallowing most of it whole. “Have they fed you at all?” You whisper as he finishes the first bar in a matter of seconds, his teeth lightly scraping against your fingers before you withdraw them, tearing open another bar.

“No.” His voice is still soft as you go to feed him once more, opening each package until he’s eaten them all.

“Are you still hungry? I could see if Lysa has more.”

“I’m okay.” You let your head fall forward, resting your forehead on his.

“What else can I do for you?”

“Nothing. Being here is enough.”

If you had felt helpless before it was nothing compared to this. This is more than helplessness, it’s despair.

“I’m sorry.” You pull yourself further into his lap, wrapping your arms around him in the process.

“Hey… none of this is your fault.” It certainly feels like it is. Why does he keep comforting you when he’s the one shivering and alone down here?

“Please, there has to be something I can do to help you.”

“There is one thing.” You almost open your eyes, you're so relieved, you just want to ease his pain.

“Anything. I’ll do anything.”

“I need you to promise me you won’t look.”

“Won’t look?” Your eyes are already closed, you couldn’t look any less if you tried.

“When they do it. I don’t want you to see it- it won’t be pretty.”

When they separate his head from his body.

“I won’t.” You can’t deny him this, you’ll give him anything he wants. “Do you know how much I love you?” You whisper before leaning forward another inch to kiss him.

The question is genuine. It terrifies you to your core to think that he may not know just how much you love him.

“Of course sarad.” He murmurs against your lips until you let your head rest on his shoulder, fighting back tears.

What do you say now?

What do you say to a man condemned to death?

“I love you.” You mumble into the thin fabric of his tunic.

“I love you too.” After a moment more with him you hear metal jingling as Lysa locks Elaine's cell once more. You quickly pull back from him, pulling the bag back over his head, once you know he can’t see you anymore the tears flow freely. Lysa steps into the cell and you remove your robe, wrapping it around him, immediately he begins to protest.

“Mesh’la, you can’t leave this here.” His voice is strained and it makes you sick to think he started crying once he was out of sight as well.

“Please, y-you’re gonna freeze.”

“They’ll know you were here, sarad’ika.”

“Din…” You’re practically babbling as Lysa removes your robe from his shoulders, an apologetic look on her face as she grabs your arm.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but we need to go.” Tears sting your eyes as Lysa urges you to hurry but you don’t want to leave him, you want to stay, no matter the consequence. You pull away from her, wrapping your arms around his torso.

“You need to go.” His voice is urgent through the fabric as you cling to him tighter.

Would it be easier to just stay? Get caught and join him at the executioners? You’re genuinely considering it when you feel your stomach churn once more and you’re reminded of the exact reason why you can’t stay. Before you lose your nerve and shatter completely you lift the bag, just enough to give you an eyeful of his split lip and bruised jaw as you gently lean in and kiss him one more time.

Doing everything in your power to remember exactly what it feels like.

The curve of his lips and the shape of his chin, the overgrown stubble brushing against your skin as you press your face harder against his, desperation taking over as you taste salt on his lips. You hold him as long as you can, until you hear Lysa urging you to make haste once more.

“I love you.” You press your forehead to his through the fabric, feeling the familiar shape of his face against yours.

“I’ll always be yours.”

That was the last thing he was able to say before you let Lysa drag you out of the dungeons.

☆

It’s like everythings suddenly back to the beginning.

You wake up alone, you go to bed alone, and you wander the castle alone.

There is no plotting or scheming to free Din.

Even if you were a trained killer or bounty hunter, it would be more than difficult to get him out of the dungeon and on a ship off Naboo. It would be even harder to do so when you’re one of the most recognizable people on the planet.

He is buried deep beneath the ground and there is nothing you can do about it.

After all, you're just a doll.

You don’t know when it happened but all your clothes are blue again. Every dress Lysa fetches from the closet is a different shade of blue and all your nightgowns are the color of the sky. A personal brand put on you by Kodo. It’s clearly more than just a preference now, it’s a reminder to you and everyone else that you’re his.

And time blends.

You know a date was set right around the time you visited him. One week until Kodo’s coronation and two until the execution. His first public event after being crowned king will be a death sentence, how fitting.

So you wake.

And you sleep.

And you walk.

Kodo never replaces Din and you haven’t seen Leo since that night, so you’re completely alone. It’s like he’s rubbing in the fact that you’re powerless. There’s no need for you to have a guard, you can’t leave. If you tried you’d be escorted back in an instant.

You tried to convince Lysa to let you see him again last night.

“Please, just a few minutes-“

“I’m sorry ma’am, it’s just not possible. The only reason I was able to get you down there the first time was because the guard that usually lets me in was working nights, he won’t be working nights again until next month.”

Din won’t live to see next month.

“Is he eating?”

“He won’t let me-“

“You need to insist. Tell him I insist, and tell him you’ll close your eyes.”

She pins back a bit of your hair, leaving half up and half down. You both bask in the silence for a moment.

“I’ll make sure he eats.”

“Thank you.”

That had been the last conversation you had with Lysa.

She doesn’t come to dress you in the morning. You think nothing of it and dress yourself in the gown she’d laid out last night. It’s a bit difficult, putting your coronation gown on on your own but eventually you manage, when you’re fully dressed in the obscenely decadent blue fabric you begin to worry.

You have no reason to assume that everything is fine. It would actually make sense for this to be a worst case scenario situation, everything else in your life is right now.

You’re about to leave in search of her but you decide against it. Sitting at the vanity and doing your makeup as quickly as possible, the last thing you need to do right now is give Kodo a reason to be upset with you, you have to be presentable. You smear the shimmering blue eyeshadow across your lids before rushing out of your room.

The halls are full. Servants move quickly from room to room, cleaning every inch as you carefully push through the crowds, making a beeline towards the dining room.

Kodo is seething when you push open the large doors.

He stands at the end of the table, shoving an armored guard as the veins in his neck jut out in his rage.

“Where could she have possibly gone? She’s blind. You’re telling me some blind bitch outsmarted my entire guard?”

Your heart flutters at the thought.

They escaped.

Your hope is shattered the moment Kodo begins speaking again.

“At least we still have the Mandalorian… I want security tripled, guards stationed outside his cell at all times.” He continues grumbling for a moment until he realizes you’re there. “Happy coronation day dear wife! I’m afraid we’ve had a rough morning here, somehow in the night the Togruta girl escaped, do not fret, we’ll find her.”

God's you hope not.

Even if things are worse than ever regarding Din there is one flicker of light in that darkness. Lysa got Elaine out. Knowing that almost puts you at ease.

“Happy coronation day.” You actually manage a smile when you look at your husband, it’s weak but it’s genuine. You want to be mad that they didn’t help Din escape but you just can’t be. You know they most likely tried but if the roles had been reversed and you could only get one of them out you wouldn’t hesitate.

So there is no animosity. Just a flicker of happiness for them.

They got out.

☆

You were under the impression that a coronation was a happy event. Yet when you step out onto the castle steps it seems to be quite the opposite.

They look miserable.

All of their faces are sullen and dejected. How shocking, no one is excited about Kodo being crowned king. He didn’t have any of the outside of the castle decorated or made presentable in any way. No one reacts when Kodo reads from an ancient looking book until a crown is placed on his head.

A moment afterwards you’re instructed to kneel and a tiara is placed onto your head.

The audience is silent and you feel shame when you stare out at them.

Even if you don’t have very much power you still feel as if you’ve failed them. The feeling follows you when you’re directed to the dining hall with Kodo.

“I have a couple gifts for you, wife.” His twisted smile makes your stomach turn as you enter the dining hall, now decorated with blue and gray banners.

“A gift? You shouldn’t have, my king, I- I didn’t get you anything.” You feign remorse as you take a sip of the wine in front of you on instinct before spitting it back up into the cup.

“That’s more than okay, you’re my gift, sweet wife, all mine.” The thought of such a thing makes you sick, you smile despite yourself.

“That’s very kind.” You’ll only ever be Din’s. No amount of blue fabric and faux smiles can change that. He snaps his fingers and a large box is brought to you by a servant, they set it directly in front of you on the table. You look at Kodo who nods, sitting back in his chair as you stand, the box is wrapped in checkered blue paper, a large bow adorning the top. Your hands tremble a bit as you take hold of the edges of the ribbon, tugging on them until the bow slips free, much to your surprise the entire box falls open, the sides collapsing giving you an immediate view of the contents.

The silver, shimmering contents.

Din’s helmet.

Polished like new, it sits before you, and the room suddenly empties. It’s as if you are completely alone, despite all the eyes that are most definitely pinned on you right now. Your hands continue to shake as your fingers wrap around the beskar steel, like you would when you held Din’s face, lifting it to glare into the visor.

Empty.

You can’t help but stare at your own emptiness reflected back at you.

You want to hold it close, press it to your forehead but you’re snapped back to reality by the grating sound of Kodo’s voice breaking you from your focus on the helm between your hands.

“That’s only one of your presents, open the next one.” He hisses gleefully.

You set the helmet down, realizing there was another, much smaller box underneath it. Silently you scoop it up and cradle it in your hands. It’s a larger than a ring box, it just barely fits in your palm as you ever so gently open it, swinging the top open as if it were a tiny treasure chest.

Huh.

It takes a moment.

You aren’t exactly sure what it is you’re looking at at first but when it registers your entire body tenses up, your grip tightening on the gift box.

Bloody and pink, a tongue.

Of course you know better than to assume Kodo would give you any old tongue. This is a special someone’s tongue.

No, no, no, no, no.

You had loved his tongue before anything else.

He can’t do this, he cannot do this to you.

You had fallen for his sharp wit first, it was what drew you into him. His sweet words had won you back, his declaration of devotion.

Now you hold all of that in the palm of your hand.

“What do we say?” His nasally voice breaks through your mental anguish.

No.

“Come on, where are your manners?”

Please.

“Thank you.” Your whisper is nearly silent as you struggle to keep down the scream bubbling in your throat.

“What was that?”

You clear your throat.

“Thank you.”

He makes you take it with you. You don’t bother telling him you won’t be attending the coronation ball in a few minutes, it’s not like you’ll be missed.

In one arm you’re cradling his helmet, in the other the little blue box.

You set each one down carefully onto the bed, even if it’s a bit demented these are the only parts of him you have left. You stare at the little box.

You have never been hateful.

Kodo made you into this. You are full of hate, for most things at this point. You hate your husband, you hate your room, and most of all you hate the little blue box on the bed.

And the music starts.

It must be deafening in the hall for you to hear it from your room but it’s there, loud and demanding of your attention.

You’re moving before you even have a chance to think about it, in a few quick strides you’re standing beside the vanity, your hands gripping the top of the mirror as you pull it down in one swift motion, the contents spill everywhere and the glass shatters in an instant, shards splattering the floor but you take no time to process it.

You move on to the next thing.

You yank each drawer from the dresser, throwing them to the floor, clothes strewn about until it’s light enough for you to push the entire dresser over. In your frenzy you go about the room toppling every stupid fucking table over. So many fucking end tables in one room, and you throw everyone to the floor, trinkets and vases clattering to the ground as you destroy the room. You get a rush of adrenaline as you lift one of your nightstands and throw it against the wall leaving a small dent but more importantly the force of it makes anything hanging on the wall tumble to the floor, glass frames shatter.

Your chest heaves as you stare at the carnage.

And it isn’t enough.

Your face is wet with tears and your hands with blood from cuts you didn’t feel upon your skin as you tear open the closet door, the pile of blankets mock you from the floor, you grab them, your vision now blurry with tears as you pull them out of the closet, throwing them onto your bedroom floor. When you return to the closet you’re in a frenzy, you tear at the fabric before you, yanking each and every dress off their hangers, ripping what you can.

There is nothing else for you to do, so you destroy everything you can get your hands on until the only thing left untouched is your bed, left in pristine condition as you let out a small sob.

Maybe you are a hateful person now.

You feel as though you have every right to be at this point.

You step over the shard of glass, giving your bloody hands a glance before wiping them on your gown.

Happy coronation day.

You sit on the bed, your trembling fingers wrap around the helmet, now that you’re alone you waste no time to hold it against you face, until your body just gives up, too tired to stay awake anymore.

☆

A guard wakes you in the morning, knocking on your door, when you answer it they tell you Kodo requires your presence in his chambers.

You dress in a blue gown that you don’t look too closely at. Stopping at the fresher on the way, rinsing the dried gore from your palms, wincing as you clean your wounds. None of which seem too deep.

You want to cut Kodo’s tongue out, to make him feel it. But you know that sort of thing would be an impossible task. So you daydream about it as you walk. You’re more than displeased when you open the door and are greeted by Leodall. You hadn’t seen him since that night and from the looks of it he wasn’t expecting you. He swallows loudly when you step inside Kodo’s room.

Normally you’d be curious, you’d probably take a look around but your eyes refuse to focus on anything but Leo as you scowl at him.

“Why’d you do it?” You don’t hesitate to ask, you have no idea how quickly Kodo will be joining you.

He simply stares at you, shame apparent on his face.

“You owe me an explanation at the very least.” You cross your arms in front of your chest as he clears his throat.

“I thought he’d reward me.”

You laugh. A harsh dry sound

“What could he have possibly given you that you couldn’t have just asked me for?” Your gaze never softens and you’re practically seeing red as you stare at him.

“I thought he’d give me a lordship.”

You can’t help it as another crisp and pained laugh slips past your lips.

“You thought Kodo would raise your status? I thought you were supposed to be smart.” Is he an idiot? “He doesn’t see servants as people, if you wanted such a thing you could have asked me, maybe I could have done something.”

A glimmer of something similar to hope flashes through his eyes.

“Would you- would you consider doing so now?”

“You cannot be serious-” Your expression goes from fury to disbelief as you stand.

“It seemed worth asking.” He puts his hands up defensively as you storm up to him, poking a finger into his face.

“You slimy little weasel, it should be you on the chopping block, not him. If it were up to me I’d have them put your head on a spike.” The words pour out of you like venom.

“I would be nicer to me if I were you.” He sneers and your incredulity only grows. You can’t help it, you scoff in his face.

“I would rather die.” A part of you really means it.

“You might if you aren’t careful, I saved your life by letting Elaine and your Mandalorian take the fall, I could have told the king that you were a willing participant. I saw the two of you together, I read your little rules. He never forced himself on you. I wonder what Kodo might think about that.” You aren’t a fighter, you’ve never so much as thrown a punch in your life but you grab him by the collar of his shirt and slam him into the wall, the back of his head hits the stone and you don’t feel an ounce of remorse as you do so.

“Do it.” You tilt your head to the side, almost as if you’re taunting him. “Tell him.” Any of the confidence he briefly had is gone in an instant. “The moment you do I’ll tell him that you’re covering your tracks, and that you made a pass at me. I wonder how Kodo would reward you for trying to touch what’s his?” Leo’s head turns as you both hear Kodo’s piercing voice in the hall. You release your grip on his shirt, brushing off your gown as you turn towards the door. Kodo and three others make their way into the room as Leo coughs behind you.

“Dear wife, I have another gift for you.” He takes a step to the side, gesturing at a line of three people you don’t give so much as a glance. He doesn’t even seem to notice the obvious tension in the room. “A new staff!”

“I don’t need a new staff, I’m fine on my own.” You abandon the pleasantries. You’re in such a state of upset right now, what's the point?

“You’re the queen now, staff is required. These three will replace the ones you've lost in a week, until then Leodall will be training them intensively to tend to your every need. Two guards will also be assigned to you but I promise they will be much less loathsome than your Mandalorian.”

All five of them will be trained to keep an eye on you. To report back to Kodo, after everything with Din you should have known he’d keep you on a shorter leash.

You barely look at them.

You hate them.

You shouldn’t, they’ve done nothing wrong, but you hate them.

You give each one a quick up and down, naming them in your mind.

A BD-3000 droid commands the most authority just based on how she stands so you mentally note her as Elaine's replacement. You’ll call her new Elaine.

New Lysa is a pasty young blonde woman with rosy cheeks. You truly wonder how well informed she has been on your circumstance. She’s smiling from ear to ear and seemingly couldn’t be happier to be here.

And new Leo is somehow even more nervous looking than actual Leo, practically shaking like a leaf at the sight of you. The bags under his eyes are worse than your own. A lanky thing with messy brown hair.

There’s no reason for you to fight this, Kodo always gets his way so why bother. So you nod. You don’t pretend to be grateful this time, instead you shove your way past all of them, content to return to your room and never leave.

☆

The morning of the execution comes before you’re ready for it.

Of course you didn’t sleep last night, how could you?

You dress yourself, apparently your new staff isn’t starting until tomorrow, not that you mind another day to yourself. You manage to find something that isn’t blue, a gray dress trimmed with gold, the closest thing you’ll find to funeral attire. No one else will dress with any respect for him but they can’t stop you. Your vanity is destroyed so you don’t bother with your hair or your makeup, you simply don’t care enough.

For the most part you feel nothing when you open the door, only emptiness until you look down.

Someone left you a small vase of flowers.

You pick them up, taking a closer look but your heart skips a beat when you do so.

Daisies.

After a few short breaths you throw the vase into the wall across from your door, tiny shards of porcelain fly everywhere as two servants at the end of the hall give you a look of horror. Your shoes crunch over the remains of it as you make your way down the hall and to the entryway of the castle.

Kodo insists that the two of you get to see him first.

You’re sweating wildly out on the steps as you wait.

Long before you’re ready for it they bring him out.

A shivering skeleton of a man with a linen bag over his head, immediately bile rises in your throat. Kodo is grinning ear to ear when his legs are kicked out from under him and he’s forced to kneel.

Kodo himself reaches forward and tears the bag off, too excited for any decorum or finesse.

You gasp as you stare down at the broken man before you.

In all honesty he isn’t at all what you envisioned.

His eyes verge on being hazel; they're such a light brown. You’d always pictured them to be nearly black. It doesn’t matter what color they are though, when you see the tears forming in his lash line you flinch, clutching the ring on your necklace to silently let him know silently just how much he means to you.

He’s a mess.

You don’t like looking at what those weeks in the dungeons did to him and the last thing you need to do right now is empty your stomach on the palace steps.

He’s too thin. Far, far, too thin, it’s like his entire being has shrunk down. He’s hollow.

Your breath hitches when Kodo grabs a fistful of his dark hair, forcing him to turn and stare at the crowd. They must have cut it while he was down there it’s a mess, jagged edges and shorter than you’re used to.

“This man has committed an act of treason against the crown.” His voice is loud and booming as the city goes quiet. “For such a crime he shall face the proper punishment.” He yanks him downawards, you watch in horror as Din’s head hits the stone, an incoherent mess of sounds pour from his bloody mouth and you have to look away.

He didn’t want you to look.

You remind yourself to try and calm your breathing. You can hear the scuffle as they drag him to the guillotine, placing his neck into the wooden divot, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest as you turn to look. His eyes are everywhere but on you as he looks at the people around him, desperately pleading for his life. Not a single person so much as glances at him, afterall, it’s just nonsense, no one can understand him without a tongue.

You can’t stand it, you almost cover your ears but you manage to resist as Kodo puts an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him.

“You’re welcome, sweet wife.” He whispers, his breath hot and wet against your ear.

Fuck it.

You don’t suppress the shudder in your spine as you shoot him a look of disgust. In a matter of moments everything you care about will be gone, why pretend any longer.

A bellowing chime plays from a nearby clock tower and you know it’s time, you straighten up as you stare at the guillotine in abject horror.

This is it.

Your chest rises and falls in sharp short bursts as everyone prepares themselves, a hush forming among the crowd on the street.

And it begins, a chain reaction that you cannot stop now that the executioner has his ax raised above his head.

You had expected more. More time.

A part of you thought that time would slow, that you’d have a chance to stop it.

But no.

There is no epic fairy tale moment where the sun glimmers off of the blade and the executioner raises his ax, giving you this perfect moment to run to him, to shield him from the inevitable, to beg them to take you with him.

That moment never comes.

You barely have enough time to close your eyes like you promised him. In one unbroken motion the rope is cut, the blade falls and boom.

Just like that, he’s gone.

When you hear the metal slicing through the air you squeeze your eyes shut, hearing only the wet crunch as it cuts through flesh and bone. A soft, squishy thud when his head hits the stone.

In fashion with your decision to no longer hide your disgust from Kodo you vomit. Bending down you puke onto the stones, spraying your own, and Kodo’s feet. The triumphant smile on his face vanishes as he realizes what’s happened. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, refusing to look at Din’s limp body as you give Kodo one last look of detestation before turning around and running back into the castle, not caring what anyone thinks anymore.

The moment you’re inside the reality of it all settles in as you feel tears falling wildly as you run up the steps to your room.

☆

You have been good, and kind, and in return the maker rewarded you by killing the love of your life.

So when you stand in the center of your demolished room you do the only thing your body can do at this point.

You scream.

From deep within your stomach, you scream, loud and raw.

If anything was left unbroken in your room you’d be throwing it at the wall. But there’s nothing so you scream.

You shriek.

You howl.

And you wail.

You scream until there is no more noise. Your voice, like the rest of you, gives up.

You aren’t sure how late it is when you finally stop. You’re tired and it’s dark outside and your throat is raw.

And you lay on the floor. Because the bed is too big, and too cold, and the closet is so empty. So the only place left to sleep is there. You lay on the floor with no more tears to cry and no more sounds to scream as you stare at your bed, only from this angle can you see a rectangular shape under your bed frame.

You wipe your nose with a stray piece of fabric before slowly crawling over to it, you sit on the floor and when you retrieve the item a brand new lump forms in your throat as you stare down at the box Din had bought all those days ago at the market.

Your failsafe.

With quivering hands you open it, staring into the small space containing a mess of items but what catches your eye is a piece of folded paper with your name on it. You take it between your fingers, opening it, careful to not let your tears fall onto it.

Sarad’ika,

If you’re reading this then I’m afraid things aren’t going all that well for me. There are plenty of possible reasons as to why I’m no longer with you, but what’s important is that I plan on doing everything in my power to get back to you. There is only one thing in the galaxy that could keep me from your side, and if that is my fate then this box will ensure you’re taken care of.

The most important thing is for you to get off this planet. I have included a few possible plans for you, do what you have to to survive. Elaine will help you escape.

You can seek out Greef Karga on Nevarro. Tell him Din Djarin sent you, tell him what’s happened and he will see to it that you are cared for. Explain our circumstances and I am certain he will provide you with safe lodging.

Tatooine is also an option. You’ll find a Mandalorian there by the name of Boba Fett, he will not turn you away. You will be protected there, if you need to relocate for some reason after that he will help you locate the Mandalorian convert. Show the Mandalorians your ring and you will be cared for the rest of your life, the convert will protect you.

As an absolute last resort there is a planet located in the Outer Ring called Ossus. There is a school there, taught by a man named Luke Skywalker. I doubt he would be eager to take you in but you must insist. Bring the chainmail, they’ll know who sent you. Take care of each other.

In this box you will find enough credits to get you off planet and take care of you for several months, a year if you’re frugal, I suggest you take a few jewelry pieces to pawn off for extra credits as well. You will find a small chainmail shirt, and a necklace of mine.

And lastly you will find your vibroblade.

Protect yourself. You’re strong, and more than capable of doing so.

I have one request for you, please, I will only ask this one thing of you.

Be smart.

You are the smartest and kindest person I have ever had the honor of knowing. Be smart, take care of yourself. If the roles were reversed I know that I would go to extremes to either get you back, or find justice for you. And all I can do is ask that you do not attempt any such thing, the only thing I would ever want for you is safety and happiness.

So seek those things out.

Be safe. Be happy.

I was lucky to know you, and even luckier to be yours.

an ner kar'taylir darasuum,

Din

All my love.

You flip the paper over, desperate for more, more Din, but all you find is scrawled coordinates to each location. Your fingers sift through the items, everything he promised is found inside but you latch onto the blade. Laying back down on the floor you clutch it between your fingers as you think of Din.

Din, who was yours.

Din, who they took from you.

Who Kodo, took from you.

And your grip on the knife tightens.

☆

Two guards stand outside your door round the clock now.

They never follow you or come into your room but they’re there, silently watching as you direct all your anger at your new staff. As promised Leo trained them to be as persistent and infuriating as he was.

When the two new girls come to fetch you in the morning you can’t help it when you scream at them to leave you alone and to stop trying to clean the ever growing mess of things.

It doesn’t matter that it isn’t their fault, you can’t stand the sight of anyone.

All three of them try. New Elaine and Lysa show up three times a day, trying to dress you and squeeze their way past you into the room but after enough shrieking they always leave you be.

New Leo usually tries once or twice a day, you don’t even look at him. You always stare at the floor, when he tries to speak you give him the same treatment as the girls, screaming at him and slamming the door.

Why should you let them in? You know what they are. They’re here to spy on you, to be Kodo’s eyes while he’s busy being king. They’re easy to evade. When you leave to fetch yourself food or a book from the library you easily outrun them. The two girls are worse at navigating the castle than you were when you first arrived and new Leo has a bad leg, sometimes he’ll make attempts to limp after you but they’re always unsuccessful.

You think of nothing, day after day because there is nothing to think about.

Except for the fact that Kodo took your future away from you. He took everything from you.

If you thought time was blending before Din’s death nothing could have prepared you for now. You don’t track the days as well, you keep your curtains drawn and only leave when you get hungry or start to think of Din. The last thing you need to do is have another screaming fit so you keep him locked away in your heart, an ache that’s always there that you don’t address.

One day, in a fit of tears you took your knife and decided on a whim to kill Kodo. You didn’t care about the repercussions at that point you just wanted him to suffer but the moment you opened the door you nearly tripped, stumbling backwards the guards didn’t so much as glance at you.

Another vase of flowers.

You’re tempted to just kick them down the hall but you can’t help yourself when you lean down to pick them up.

A bouquet of blue lilies. Your nose twitches at the sight of them, out of the corner of your eye you see new Lysa and new Elaine approaching so you take the opportunity to slam the little glass vase into the stone floor. Glaring at them when you do before returning to your room.

☆

Maybe it’s been three days since Din died.

Maybe it’s been three months.

You aren’t sure.

You aren’t sure when you made plans to kill Kodo either but suddenly you have them. A fool proof way to get him alone.

And suddenly you’re dressed for the first time in, well, however long it’s been. In a baby blue nightie with a robe you march out into the hall. The guards watch in silence as you walk away, your bare feet scampering down the stairs until you find yourself watching the main entrance. Waiting for your loving husband to make his nightly trip to a pleasure house, a trip that is typically accompanied by guards.

You grip the handle of the knife in your pocket as you wait until you finally hear footsteps approaching.

“Kodo, honey?” You step out from behind the stone column, holding your robe closed as you bat your eyelashes at him. He stumbles around drunkenly until his eyes focus on you.

You’ve only used your voice for screaming for so long you sound meek, exactly as you want to right now.

“Wife?”

“I thought maybe you’d like to join me tonight…” You hold a hand out towards him, putting on a sickly sweet tone of innocence. His mouth twists into a grin.

“I knew you’d come around eventually.”

He doesn’t question where you’re taking him, he simply follows.

What a joke.

You pull him up the stairs, you know from hide and seek where to find an empty room so you guide him there in calculated silence until he trips a bit, laughing to himself as he stutters.

“I knew if I got rid of the Mandalorian you’d realize how much better I am than him.” The statement doesn’t sit right with you and he can see it on your face, even in his drunken state he can sense your confusion.

You both stop, you’re above him on the stairs as you turn and stare into his eyes.

“You- you knew?”

He simply nods, that sickening smile of his is plastered on his face. His icy blue eyes shimmer with delight.

“How long?”

“When Leo told me I remembered everything. That little altercation in the hall when your boy knocked me out came right back to me, from there it wasn’t hard to figure out.” Your eye twitches as he speaks.

He knew you loved him and he took him from you anyway.

Any hesitations you had are gone as you nod, pulling him onward until you reach the large vacant tower room. He’s so drunk you decide to just drop the voice, pointing at a spot on the floor.

“Lay down.” You mumble, reaching into your pocket once more.

He eagerly does as he’s told, laying down on the cold stone, you take a deep breath, in one swift motion you grab your knife, holding it behind your back as you toss your robe aside. He gives you a toothy grin as you ever so slowly walk to him, standing above him before sitting, straddling his waist.

You look him up and down, one last time.

Your loving husband.

One of his hands plays with the blue lace of your nightie as you collect yourself. You look up at the ceiling briefly.

I’m sorry.

Not for Kodo, but for Din. This is exactly what he didn’t want you to do.

You aren’t a killer. And you aren’t hateful, but a person can only be pushed so far before something breaks.

Be smart.

You think of Din’s note one last time before you bring the blade out in front of you and slam the blade into Kodo’s chest.

He makes a sickly wet sound, coughing as he stares at you in shock.

You remove the knife, the hot steel cauterizes his wounds, there isn’t so much as a drop of blood as your face twists with fury and you bring it down again into his stomach now.

How dare he look surprised by any of this.

After what he took from you? He deserves galaxies worse.

So you remove the knife.

And you stab him again.

And again,

and again,

and again.

Until there is no more shocked look on his face. You don’t have a snarky remark or a statement to commemorate your revenge, you’re all used up at this point, all you have is this, this stabbing motion.

He didn’t even have a chance to fight back.

You crawl off of his body, sitting on the stones as you toss the knife to the side, waiting for a rush of euphoria.

But it never comes.

It doesn’t feel as good as you thought it would.

Staring down at Kodo’s lifeless body. You let yourself crumble. Collapsing down onto the floor, gasping for air as you sob.

This was never going to bring him back.

You lay there on your hands and knees for quite some time, just wailing, because what else are you supposed to do right now? You realize far too late that this was never an act of malice, some demented and shattered part of you thought that this would somehow bring him back, that it would give you peace.

They won’t execute you.

You planned this exactly so they wouldn’t.

Kodo didn’t tell anyone about your relationship with Din in much detail, not enough for them to assume that you could be with child. Everyone will assume that it’s Kodo’s. They won’t kill you, they can’t.

Not if they think you’re carrying Kodo’s child. Now that Kodo’s dead, there’s no one to tell the royal family that you never consummated your marriage, your child is the most well protected person on the planet. The future monarch. It’s almost funny, you haven’t permitted yourself to think about the stirring within you as a child until just now, in this moment of weakness. A child, your child.

Who will most likely grow up without a mother because of the decisions you've made today.

You bite your fist, swallowing a scream as you sit back on your heels.

Your child will never know how loved they were. Your little one will never get to sit beside their mother while their father teaches them to sew. You put your head in your hands as you wail, no longer caring who hears. Your fate is sealed, what does it matter?

You don’t turn when you hear someone coming up the stairs. When they pull you into their arms you try uselessly to shove them away. Your vision is blurry and filled with tears as you stare up at the unfamiliar figure now holding you. They rub your back, drawing swirls and stars against your spine as they pull you closer.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” They mumble into your hair. You dry your eyes hastily on your sleeve, confused by the voice you’re hearing, it’s painfully familiar, on instinct you wrap your arms around their torso, pulling yourself into their lap as you both sit on the floor beside Kodo’s body. “You’re okay, I’m here.”

“I’m- I’m sorry.” You whisper against the stranger's shirt. You knew you weren’t hateful. You’re certain of it now because even though he took quite literally everything from you, you still feel bad when you look at Kodo.

A large hand cups your face, pulling you back to their chest so you can’t see the corpse anymore.

“I didn’t mean it- I- I didn’t mean to kill him. Well I did but I just-” You begin to ramble as a fresh flood of tears begin sliding down your cheeks.

“Hey- hey it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. We gotta get you cleaned up, okay? I’ll take care of this, I’ll fix it.” Their arms tighten around you, giving you a reassuring squeeze. You finally find the courage to look at your companion and it takes a moment for you to even realize who you’re looking at.

New Leo.

Why would he help you? You treat him like shit. When you look at him he looks like he’s about to cry and for the first time since Din was taken from you drop the walls you’ve put up and you let yourself feel bad for him. You show an ounce of kindness to him because in all honesty he’s the first person to make you feel safe since the night Din was taken from you.

A lighthouse while you sail through a storm.

So you hug him.

You pull yourself closer to him and you offer him a comfort you haven’t known for days.

“I’m sorry… for all of it, but especially the flowers, I should have told you, I just- you wouldn’t let me and the guards wouldn’t let me in without your permission and you just wouldn’t look at me.” He begins to mumble his own apologies, sending a surge of confusion through you.

You furrow your brows, pulling back once more giving him a perplexed look as you search his nearly black eyes for some kind of answer.

And it clicks.

All at once it snaps into place and you want to say his name, so desperately, but you’re terribly afraid of being wrong.

And then he smiles. A soft smile that makes you feel okay and you don’t even care if you’re wrong and you don’t care if it doesn’t make sense you just have to ask.

“Din?”

☆

a/n : yeah so uhhhhh yeah uhhhh this is the first chapter i've ever written where im actually very fond of the writing and nervous about the plot stuff so im gonna go hide?? and just vanish for a while lol

I don't have a tag list anymore !! follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates!!

#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #pedro pascal #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you

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sunnyrisee · 8 months ago

Text

Message In A Bottle — Bang Chan

pairing : idol! bang chan x fem! reader

genre : angst with fluff ending, childhood friends to lovers.

summary : you've been loving chan for as long as you can remember, but sadly, he was clueless. you bottled up all your feelings into notes, each folded into different shapes, hoping that one day you could give this bottle of emotions to him.

word count : 3,605

author's note : this is my first time writing on tumblr. also, inspired by fyp on tiktok (i honestly forgot the username). lastly, i apologize if there are any mistakes.

You loved him from the very beginning.

You've been there for him since childhood, watching him grow from a nobody into someone cherished by millions.

Years passed, and your bond with Chan only grew stronger. You were his best friend, his confidante, the one who always believed in him, even when no one else did. You were the one who gently rubbed circles on his back when the sad days overwhelmed him, dropping everything just to see Chan again and bring a smile to his face.

He only let you wrap your arms around him, only you play with his hair, only you caress his cheeks and wipe away his tears. You were his safe haven, his source of comfort in the storm.

It's always like that.

The day Stray Kids debuted was the happiest day of his life. And yours too, because you knew how much it meant to him. You stood in the crowd, tears streaming down your face, as you watched him light up the stage.

As the group gained popularity and recognition, that's when the distance between the two of you started to widen. It wasn't his fault; you understood the demands of his career.

Shouldn't you be happy for his success? Shouldn't you be proud of him? He had waited for this day to come, years of training and sacrifices finally paying off.

Thankfully, he still visits your apartment sometimes, though not as often as before. Back then, you used to talk about everything under the sun with him. Now, it's just a brief hello followed by a bitter goodbye that stings your heart.

As night fell, you found yourself flipping through your old photo album. There were pictures of little Chan and you, captured in moments of pure happiness, building sandcastles, watching sunsets, and running around together, laughing without a care in the world.

You look at your phone and see a message from Chan. You hate the way he can make your heart flutter and a warm feeling spread across your cheeks.

Somehow, a twinge of jealousy crept in. There were countless stunning idols who could easily catch his eye. You scrutinized yourself in the mirror, painfully aware of your differences.

You were just you, not like them—plain, ordinary, and feeling hopelessly inadequate.

But you tried to think positively, reminding yourself to wait for your turn. Chan had always told you to trust your heart and be patient. However, why did you feel such a tightness in your chest, as if tears were threatening to spill?

You sit there clutching your shirt, feeling the intense moment pierce your heart open. You don't know her, but all you can see is her slowly taking your place. It feels like you're watching your own nightmare unfold. God, she's more beautiful than you.

You try not to think of it, but each passing moment makes it harder to ignore. The way they laugh together, and the way Chan gently tucks her hair behind her ear, hurts you more than ever before. It's the same thing he used to do when you were studying hard for exams, a gesture that once brought you comfort and now only brings pain.

Once again, you try to hold back your tears that threaten to spill. You hide it quite well, but little did you know, Felix observed the way you shifted and how you looked away from the scene. He's the only one who knows about your feelings for Chan. He wants to approach you, but you slowly get up, ready to leave before anyone notices your teary eyes.

You hate seeing yourself this vulnerable. No, you've never felt this weak before.

You take your bag and pull out a bottle filled with paper folded into cute shapes. Each one contains messages you've been writing for Chan for all these years. It's your secret way of expressing yourself when words fail you, something Chan has never known about. You took out a small piece of paper and wrote one more message before you left. As you penned the words, you finally let your tears fall freely. You could only hear your painful sobs as you folded the paper into a heart shape.

'For My Channie'

You felt a hand on your shoulder, causing you to flinch slightly. Turning around, you saw the freckled boy with a big smile on his face.

"I made brownies, you know?" Felix grinned. "Thanks to your help that day, I finally didn't burn the kitchen down again."

His warm smile always melted your heart. Felix felt like a little brother to you. Whenever Chan wasn't around, he would check on you, asking if you had eaten or if you were okay. As soon as he saw the tear stains on your cheeks, he understood how much pain you were in. He had never seen you like this before.

"T-Thanks, Lix." You choked out, wiping away your tears. Felix then told you to wait as he quickly packed some of the brownies just for you.

"Here." He said gently, handing you a small package. His caring eyes met yours, offering a small glimmer of comfort in your moment of sorrow. You bowed to him gratefully and whispered a small thank you.

"Felix, could you give this bottle to Chan when he's alone?" You asked, handing him the bottle filled with paper folded into various shapes, each containing a message inside. He was confused at first, but then he nodded understandingly. Giving you a thumbs up, you quietly slipped away, hoping your message would reach Chan and convey everything your heart couldn't say aloud.

You looked at them for one last time, hoping that Chan would notice your absence. But he didn't seem to realize, continuing to talk and laugh with her. He looked so happy, so clearly in love. You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the ache of everything weighing heavily on you. You slowly shut your eyes, trying not to care about what was happening.

As you arrived home, you burst into your bedroom, collapsing onto your bed. The floodgates opened, and you cried uncontrollably, your sobs echoing through the empty room. The pain and loneliness consumed you, each tear a testament to the heartache you had been holding back for so long. Your chest heaved with every breath, the weight of your unspoken feelings pressing down on you. It felt like your heart was breaking all over again, and the tears seemed endless, soaking your pillow as you cried yourself into exhaustion.

"He doesn't care. He never did. Why would you fall for him, Y/n?" You whispered to yourself through your tears. "You should know better... He's an idol now."

You continued to cry as you gathered all the things that reminded you of him and put them into a box. You weren't going to throw them away; you just needed to put them out of sight so you could try to move on.

"Why did I let myself fall for you? And even make you my home... A home I can never get into... Despite knowing every corner of it's well..." You murmured softly, your voice cracking with emotion as you reflected on the depth of your feelings.

As the day went on, you focused on your job as a doctor, dedicating yourself wholeheartedly to helping others, much like Felix. Despite your busy shift, thoughts of Chan lingered in your mind. During breaks, you checked your messages, hoping for a notification from him, but there was nothing.

Why couldn't you just forget about him?

When you finally returned home, a message from him awaited you. He asked about your day and more, and you found yourself staring at the screen, unsure of how to react. Frozen in place, you felt a wave of mixed emotions wash over you, leaving you at a loss for what to do next.

Isn't this what you wanted? Why do you feel so afraid now, when it's finally happening? The conflicting emotions swirl within you, uncertainty clouding your heart despite longing for this moment.

A month without your calls, messages, and silly pick-up lines. Chan hated to admit that he missed your presence. He tried to reach out, asking how you were, if you had eaten, or if he could come to your apartment. However, every time he asked, you always had plenty of excuses.

It's like you're avoiding him.

"Hyung, after Y/n left the party that night, she gave me this. She said it's for you. I don't know, hyung, but when she left... I could tell she was holding back her tears." Felix handed Chan the bottle, and Chan took it, his brow furrowing in confusion. He turned it over in his hands, trying to understand its significance.

You're sad? Why didn't you tell him? What could have possibly made you this upset?

The bottle was from the time you were both still in high school. You both went to a park on a sunny afternoon, exploring a quaint antique truck that had caught your eye. Among them was a small, intricately designed bottle that had caught Y/n's attention. Chan had secretly bought it for you, knowing how much you admired it.

Now, clutching the same bottle in his hands, Chan wondered why Y/n had entrusted it to Felix. His mind raced with questions.

Felix observed Chan closely, hoping that he would finally realize your true feelings. Chan, however, seemed completely clueless.

Chan worked tirelessly until night fell, consumed with stress over the new song. His mind raced with thoughts, unable to focus. As he trailed off, lost in his thoughts, he noticed a little note peeking out from between the folded papers inside the bottle. He noticed that the bottle wasn't just filled with paper shapes.

He picked up one that was shaped like a star and carefully unfolded it.

"Today is Chan's first audition. I hope Chan gets it. He's been working hard for it."

A smile slowly spread across Chan's face as he read the note. His eyes softened with warmth, and a hint of nostalgia flickered in them. He took another paper shape, and carefully unfolded it.

"They finally get a first win! I'm so proud of them!"

He stifled a laugh as he remembered how the kids had cried when they were announced as the winners.

"Channie wants to buy a present for his parents. I'm going to save some money to help him :)"

The note revealed your thoughtful plan to assist Chan with buying a gift for his parents. He soon recalled his savings, surprised to realize that you had helped him accumulate them. That's when he took out all the notes and read through each one carefully. He noticed how the words became more emotional.

"Someday, I want to know not only the colors of you eyes but also the colors of your dreams."

"I told my family and friends to support Chan and all the StrayKids members. They need more recognition!"

"Happiness is when I am excited to meet you and you're excited to meet me too."

"It's your first time on stage, I can't believe how far you've come."

"Your eyes are the warmest place in the world even when I'm looking at them under the coldest rain."

"I hope my Channie is surrounded by people who care and love him. He deserves so much love."

"Don't you ever forget, your authenticity, the real you is more beautiful than all the well-received, striking, scenic facades in this world combined."

"You look tired these days. I hope you get much rest. Don't be such a workaholic, dumbass!"

"How's Korea? You look happier there. Glad to see you with that big smile. Well, I'm still studying here :D"

"When I'm by your side, it's like all of my fears, worries and anxieties melt away thanks to your warm presence."

"No one knows how to ignite the fire in my heart the way you do."

"Channie, I finally became a doctor. I kept my promise, and you are the first person I told :]"

"I'm so in love with you, Chan. In an instant, I knew what I felt. In a brief moment, I knew exactly that you were the one."

Chan read every single one of your notes, tears streaming down his face as he realized how clueless he had been all these years about your feelings. His smile faded as he remembered everything you had done for him—the way you dropped everything just to be there for him, always making time to listen to his thoughts and talk about seemingly unimportant things.

After all this time, you always there for him. His mind slowly repeating all the memories he have with you.

He thought of her long hair, cascading down her back like a silken waterfall. He could almost feel its softness, the way it slipped through his fingers. He remembered her soft smile, the one that could light up even his darkest days, a smile so pure and genuine that it made his heart swell with love.

Her beautiful features danced in his mind's eye, the curve of her lips, the sparkle in her eyes, the way she looked at him as if he were her whole world. He missed the sound of her laughter, the warmth of her embrace, the way she would nuzzle into his chest and sigh contentedly.

How could he have been so clueless?

There was one last paper shaped like a heart. As Chan examined it, he realized that the last paper was a bit messy. He softly opened it, his hands trembling slightly.

"And you know what? The reason why I kept holding on was, I always thought that perhaps, you were waiting for me, too..."

That was the last message. His tears, already streaming down, turned into uncontrollable sobs. How could he have been so oblivious? He cried out loud, unable to believe how foolish he had been. Chan clutched the heart-shaped paper to his chest, memories flooding his mind. The weight of his realization bore down on him, crushing his heart with the knowledge of what could have been.

Now, he couldn't think of anyone else he wanted to spend his life with. It has always been you.

A memory flashed in his mind of how deeply you cared for him, the only one who truly understood him, and the one who had always been there for him through thick and thin.

Felix stood in the doorway, watching Chan break down, his own heart aching for both of you. He had always known about your feelings, had seen the way you looked at Chan, the way you lit up whenever he was around. Now, seeing Chan's reaction, he hoped his friend would finally understand the depth of your love.

He quietly stepped in, placing a comforting hand on Chan's shoulder as he looked up at the younger boy.

"It's been a month, hyung. Do you know that she watched you, in pain, getting close to that girl?" He murmured softly. He described how tears welled up in your eyes as you witnessed Chan caress the girl's hair. Chan's expression crumbled as he absorbed Felix's words, the weight of your unspoken pain settling heavily on his heart. He hadn't realized how much his actions had hurt you until now, and the regret gnawed at him.

"Yah! Are you trying to age yourself prematurely? Stop working so hard, it's showing!"

He stood up abruptly, determination replacing the sorrow on his face. He had to find you, to tell you that he finally understood, that he felt the same way. He couldn't let you slip away, not after everything. Chan grabbed his coat and headed to the door, leaving Felix standing silently. He couldn't shake the image of your tear-filled eyes and the pain he had caused you.

As he was on his way, traffic came to a standstill, and he cursed under his breath. Why was the world moving so slowly for him now? Was this some kind of punishment?

"I've been exhausted lately, pulling night shifts. The chilly nights only seem to make it worse."

As he drove to the hospital, memories of you filled his mind. He recalled the times you had mentioned how hard you worked, often taking night shifts at the hospital. He could feel the cold breeze seeping through, making him shiver. He cursed himself for telling you that you would survive and everything was fine.

He swore that even he might catch a cold from the frigid breeze.

With each breath turning to mist in the cold air, Chan hurried into the hospital. He sprinted through the corridors, regret pushing him forward, and discovered you in the break room, exhausted after a long shift.

"It would mean a lot if you knew that while you're caught up in your own world, you know I'm working just as hard."

It all became clear to him. All those times you talked about your work—the stress you faced, the small victories you cherished, and how you always tried to keep things positive despite your tiredness.

He watched from outside the door, and for the first time in his life, he was captivated by your beauty. Your hair, casually pulled into a ponytail, draped over your shoulders in flowing waves, emphasizing your effortless allure. The calming rhythm of your breath and the tranquil elegance of your sleeping pose created a breathtaking vision that left him awestruck.

"Apologies for not messaging you. Whenever I get exhausted, I crash in the break room."

The moment you opened your eyes, Chan's concerned face came into view, his expression a silent plea for forgiveness.

"Chris? W-What are you doing here?" You asked, trying to mask the hurt and confusion in your voice.

Chris—the government nickname you never use. Just hearing it made his heart ache, a painful reminder of the distance and misunderstandings between you.

Is this what you've been feeling all along?

He was lost in his own thoughts for several minutes before he managed to find an answer. He couldn't tear his eyes away from you. He felt an overwhelming urge to hold you close, to kiss you, but the words caught in his throat.

"I'm an idiot, Y/n. I only focused on my own life and goals while y-you were there watching and supporting me. I didn't see what was right in front of me all along. I didn't see how important you were until now. I'm sorry it t-took me this amount of time to truly understand your feelings..." Chan explained, his voice trembling.

"The truth, Y/n, is that I love you. It took me a long time to unravel the depths of my own heart. You're the missing piece that completes and brings together my scattered, disordered, and messy life... Baby, I'm gonna feel bad for myself if I never had a chance of knowing you in this, o-or any other lifetime. At the end of a challenging day, I just want to come home to your peaceful presence, rest my head on your stomach, and share all the day's burdens with you." He spoke, his voice breaking with emotion.

Tears filled your eyes as you looked at him, the sincerity and desperation in his voice breaking down the walls you had built around your heart.

"And, Y/n. Yes, I've been w-waiting for you too, love." Chan said, his voice trembling, as tears cascaded down his cheeks. He stepped forward, pulling you into his arms.

You held him close as he cried on your shoulder, his sobs shaking his entire body. You whispered comforting words, gently rubbing his back, trying to soothe his anguish. His tears soaked through your shirt, but you didn't mind.

"Shh, it's okay, Chan. I'm here." You murmured softly. His grip on you tightened, as if he feared you might disappear if he let go.

"I'm so sorry, b-baby. I should have seen how much you were hurting. I love you so much, love. Please, forgive me..." He choked out between sobs, his voice filled with regret and pain. You shushed him gently, your fingers running through his hair.

"I love you too, Channie. I will always love you. A thousand year from now, I will still love you like I did a thousand years before." You comforted him, and he sought your warmth, clinging to you tightly.

Chan looked closely into your eyes, cupping your cheek and gently drawing your lips to his. He slowly pressed his lips to yours, in a kiss that spoke of deep passion, tender affection, and a softness that made your heart flutter. Time seemed to stand still, every second stretching into an eternity as you both lost yourselves in the moment.

You both gently pulled away as your eyes meeting in a moment of shared understanding. A smile blossomed on your lips, reflecting the warmth.

"The search is over. Amongst the loneliness of the universe, I've finally found you."

#stray kids #skz angst #skz x reader #skz #stay #stray kids x reader #bangchan x reader #bang chan #christopher bang #angst with a happy ending #skz imagines #bang chan angst #bang chan imagines #bang chan icons

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decentwritings · 9 days ago

Text

Chapter 6

Summary: At twenty-six, you never expected your life to look like this: a veteran, a college dropout, now running drugs to cover your late father’s debts. The military took you away for a brief moment, but now you're back in your hometown, keeping family at a distance to keep them safe. Your simple plan to clear the debt, one job at a time, unravels the moment Mabel steps into your life.

previous part <--> next part

You grip the railing tightly, the sea breeze blowing your hair out of your face as you stare bitterly at the waves. The idea of living at sea comes to mind, its simplicity calling to you—the freedom, the distance from all of this. But there's no escaping now. No amount of crashing waves can drown out the chaos you've gotten yourself into.

The world around you feels vast and endless, yet here you are, caught in a storm you never saw coming.

You try to cling to a simpler time. You remember that weekend your dad took you out to sea, teaching you the ropes. It wasn’t just a lesson; it was a glimpse into a life you dreamed of. You told him you wanted to stay out there forever, anchored in the middle of the ocean, free from the noise of the world.

He didn't shut down your dream but he did tell you that it's best to not wish for that. He said to just buy a boat and to take the trip here whenever you needed to. You swore you would do it; mostly to make it up to him and take him to the middle of the sea one day. On your own boat.

Your grip on the railing tightens as the salt air fills your lungs. That dream died the day you found out what he really did out at sea. The memory of your father lingers, clearer now than you expected. His voice, his lessons—they come back, one by one.

You were just a kid then, but what you remember most is his smile. Not his words, just that smile. Even when the rain poured as you both reeled in fish, his smile outshone the storm. Maybe he was just happy you’d tagged along. He could never convince your sister to join him, no matter how hard he tried.

Maybe that’s why he wasn’t thrilled when you joined the army. You’d always followed his advice, done what he asked. But the one time you didn’t listen, it was to make a choice that put you in danger. Looking back, it must’ve hurt him more than you realized.

You think about the lighthouse in the distance, the one he always looked for before bed when he was at sea. “It’s not just a light,” he’d said. “It’s a reminder. It doesn’t just mean safety—it means home.” He told you the same about your nickname: it didn’t just mean you; it meant home.

“Always look for it,” he’d said, “whenever you feel lost or need to find your way back.”

You’ve never felt more lost than you do now. Part of you wonders if there was a deeper meaning to his words, but all you know is that you wish he were here. You wish you knew what he’d do in your position.

You shake your head, forcing the thoughts away. The weight of your current situation presses down on you, heavy as a storm gathering on the horizon. But thinking about your dad makes one thing clear: he wouldn’t want you to be scared. He wouldn’t want you to let fear make your decisions.

"Aye, Faro," you hear as he joins your side. You lower your head, feeling the tears brimming your eyes. He pulls you into his side and rubs your back gently. "What do you need?" He asks, his voice above a whisper.

You sniffle, rubbing your face in the inside of your arm. You look at him and shrug. "I fucked up, Rudy," you tell him, shaking your head when you hear your voice crack. "I was selfish. And now it's putting the people I love in danger."

Rudy smiles sadly.

"I don't think I'll be able to make this right," you confess, swallowing thickly. "God, at least my dad didn't get any of us hurt. I should've been smarter–I'm a fucking Ranger. How didn't I see this coming?"

Rudy shakes his head. "Y/N," he says your name, catching you off guard. "You're not super human. You're human, just like the rest of us. We all make mistakes. It doesn't mean you're not capable or strong. It just means you're living life.

"Your dad wouldn't want you to beat yourself up over this," Rudy continues, his voice steady. "He'd want you to find a way through it, just like he taught you on those fishing trips. You can't control everything, but you can control how you respond."

You take a deep breath, feeling the warmth of his presence grounding you. "I just feel so helpless," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "He was right. Maybe instead of going to the army, I should've gone to college. I'd probably have the money in cash and paid it off in one go instead of having to work it off." Your jaw tightens at the thought.

Rudy chuckles, standing up straight. You follow his gaze and he nods, silently telling you to follow him. You follow him, but the path you take is familiar. Until you reach the back of his restaurant, this part of it is unfamiliar.

He unlocks the back door then pulls on a string, a bulb turning on, brightening up the room. You still, unable to believe your eyes. The room is filled with several of your accomplishments. From your first perfect attendance award in elementary school to the Medal of Honor you got for saving the lives of some children on tour.

You step further into the room, your heart swelling with a mix of pride and disbelief. It's a small gallery dedicated to you, a testament to your journey and achievements. The walls are adorned with framed certificates, medals, and photos of you in various uniforms—each one telling a story of resilience and courage.

"Rudy, I..." You struggle to find the words, overwhelmed by the unexpected display. "Did you..."

"This is your father's doing," Rudy informs you, admiring it all himself. He looks at you and shrugs. "He may not have showed it or said it, but he was proud. I caught him once raving to the crew about the Medal of Honor. I was on my way to give him an earful for not having picked you up at the airport but...then I heard him."

Your heart races as Rudy's words sink in. The realization that your father held such pride for you—despite the weight of your current situation—sends a surge of emotions through you.

"He never mentioned it," you whisper, your voice cracking. "He always acted like he wanted me to be something different. Like joining the army was a disappointment."

Rudy shakes his head. "You know how men like him can be. They don't always express their feelings the way we want them to. But trust me, he saw you as a hero, and he wanted everyone else to see that, too."

You turn back to the wall, studying the framed photos. One catches your eye—your younger self, beaming with pride as you held up your first award for perfect attendance. It feels like a lifetime ago, a reminder of a simpler time before the world got complicated.

"He was proud of me," you whisper, feeling a lump in your throat. You clear your throat, hoping to get rid of it. "You just let him do this here?" You asks after.

Rudy shrugs. "Your father needed a place to vent. He couldn't share his feelings with your mother because he knew she would disapprove so I told him to use this space. I thought he would make his own gym or something. But then he brought the perfect attendance, soon after your first photo in your uniform–I think he was glad you slowed down a bit because he was running out of space."

You chuckle, looking around the room and not finding a single empty space in the walls.

"I can't believe he kept all of this," you say, shaking your head in disbelief. "I thought he didn't care."

Rudy crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe with a knowing smile. "He cared more than you realized. Sometimes it's easier for people like him to show pride in other ways, even if it's not direct. This was his way of celebrating you without putting it all out in the open."

You scan the walls again, each item a testament to your journey, and a deep warmth fills you. It feels like a balm for the wounds you've been carrying. "I wish I had known," you murmur, swallowing hard. "I spent so much time feeling like I disappointed him."

"You didn't disappoint him, Y/N," Rudy says firmly. "He was proud of you every step of the way. You just couldn't see it through your own doubts."

You nod slowly, absorbing his words. The weight on your shoulders feels a little lighter. "I need to remember that," you say, taking a deep breath. "I've got to fight for Mabel. I can't let fear hold me back."

"Exactly," Rudy encourages. "Now that you're ready to act, we'll plan how to get that list from the police. You've got the skills to pull this off, and I'll help however I can."

You shake your head. "I have another idea." He raises a brow. "I need you, first, to get my mom, sister and nephew out of town. While you're at it, you and Jodie too. I can't do this knowing you guys are still close to danger."

Rudy nods, crossing his arms as he listens.

"I'll figure out a way to get Mabel to leave town, too," you say after, pausing to think. You meet his eyes and he sees them sparkle as your plan starts to come together. "Remember Erin?"

"Yes. The best tipper in the town."

You don't bother to argue right now. "She's a detective now. I know what I need to do."

His eyebrow raises again, so you step forward and decide to loop him in to your train of thought.

\\\\\

When you step into the police station, it eerily silent. The woman behind the front desk looks bored and chewing her gum obnoxiously. You sigh quietly, feeling something stir in your stomach. Your gut is screaming at you that this is a bad idea, but you fight against it and walk up to the woman.

You wait, hoping she would greet you in some form. When a minute passes with silence between you two, you clear your throat. She looks at you, bored and exhausted.

She sits up and grabs a slip of paper, slides it in front of you and says, "Fill out the form and an officer will get back to you as soon as they can," she recites, like she memorized it from a script.

You slide the paper back to her. "Umm, no," you say, clearing your throat. She looks up at you through her eyelashes. "I'm here to see Erin Holland—sorry, Detective Erin Holland."

The woman's expression doesn't change; she merely raises an eyebrow. "Detective Holland is busy. If you want to file a report, you can do it through the form," she replies, her tone flat.

You take a deep breath, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "I really need to speak to her," you insist, trying to keep your voice steady. "It's important."

She rolls her eyes and leans back in her chair, twirling a pen between her fingers. "Everyone thinks their situation is important," she replies dismissively. "Unless you have a badge or a court order, I can't just call her out of a meeting."

Oh she is lovely, you think to yourself bitterly.

You bite your lip, weighing your options. The knot in your stomach tightens, urging you to back down, but you push through. "Look," you lean forward, lowering your voice. Her interest piques and she does the same. "Between us ladies, I'm trying to surprise her. We used to date and I'm back in town–kinda wanna surprise her."

The woman's demeanor shifts slightly, her bored expression giving way to a hint of curiosity. "You're trying to surprise Detective Holland?" she asks, tilting her head.

You nod.

"And you think surprising her at her job is the right move to get back together with her?"

You shrug. "Can't know 'til I try," you retort, forcing a smile.

The woman shakes her head, but a hint of amusement flickers in her eyes. She studies you for what feels like an eternity, and you assume she's trying to gauge whether you're a threat. After a moment, she points to her left and presses a button.

"Her desk is somewhere in there," she tells you, returning to her earlier tasks. "Good luck finding it."

It doesn't take you long to locate it. The years you dated Erin taught you that she was the cleanest person ever, so finding her pristine desk in the far left corner, surrounded by cluttered ones, is easy. You know she must avoid being at her desk because of the chaos around her.

Now you have to wait for her to return. You chew on your nails, anxiety rising as your leg bounces restlessly. Your eyes dart around the room, taking in the bustling officers and the sense of order they embody. It's almost overwhelming.

You used to be Army, for God's sake—why do these guys intimidate you?

You immediately get on your feet when you see her. When Erin spots you, surprise flickers across her face.

"Faro?" she asks, walking around her desk. You rock back and forth on your feet, watching her secure her gun in its holster. You swallow thickly, the gravity of what you're about to say hitting you. "Everything okay?"

"I need your help," you say, taking the seat in front of her desk again. She eyes you, a hint of concern in her gaze, before settling into her chair. "It's bad, Erin. I fucked up big time."

Erin glances around the office, then nods. Without another word, she stands and gestures for you to follow. You quicken your pace, trying to keep up with her as she strides purposefully through the station.

She leads you to a secluded part of the building, into a room filled with boxes of files. The scent of paper and dust fills the air, and your curiosity briefly outweighs your nerves. You peek into one of the boxes but flinch when Erin places her hand over it, stopping you.

"Talk, now," she orders, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You swallow again, the weight of your confession pressing down on you. You start from the beginning—your father's reckless decisions, the bets he made, and his disastrous choice to run drugs to pay off those debts. You explain how he believed he was in the clear, how the money seemed to flow in and out easily, and how he got in deeper by making higher bets, thinking he was helping the family.

"And now I'm just as stupid as he was," you continue, the shame washing over you. "I did what he did, thinking I could pay off his debts, only to find out that I'm stuck in this mess."

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the worst part. "And now, I'm putting the people I love in danger. The first and last straw was that car crash—they hit me on purpose. I might have let it slide if it was just me, but my sister and nephew were in the car too."

"You idiot!" Erin's voice rises, her frustration evident.

As expected, she launches into a rant. "What were you thinking? How could you let yourself get caught up in this?"

Your shoulders slump, taking the reprimand silently.

But she appears to be done. For now.

"Who is it you're working for?" She asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Ronny." You answer. She quirks a brow, waiting for more. "Oh, yeah, I didn't ask his last name. I was too busy getting threatened." You add sarcastically, earning yourself a glare.

She shakes her head. "Look, I need more than that. And quit with the sarcasm, this is serious," you bite your tongue, having a sarcasm rebuttal on the tip of your tongue. "You want my help, so give me more."

You take a deep breath, nodding as you prepare to give her every detail you know about this crew. Her surprise of all your knowledge is shown but you don't question it now. You give her names you know, deals made, money exchanged, transactions made; hell, you think you may have even heard them kill someone. You're not sure.

"How did you retain all this?" Erin asks, looking at you in bewilderment. It occurs to you that she doesn't know about your photographic memory.

You shrug, trying to downplay it. "I've always had a good memory, I guess."

Erin narrows her eyes. "Good memory? You just rattled off names, dates, and details like you've got a dossier in your head. This isn't just 'good.'"

You rub the back of your neck, feeling a little exposed now. "I have a photographic memory," you admit reluctantly.

Erin stares at you, processing the new information. "And you never mentioned this before... because?"

You offer a weak smile. "Never really came up?"

"We dated for three years," Erin counters, raising a brow. You shrug and she shakes her head in disbelief, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Erin lets out a deep breath, as if she's recalibrating her approach. "You know, that's kind of important, Faro. It could've been useful. But no, you just kept that little talent to yourself."

You offer her a sheepish grin, trying to ease the tension. "It wasn't exactly first date material."

She rolls her eyes. "Right, because 'Hey, I can remember every embarrassing detail of our relationship' would've gone over great."

You chuckle lightly, though it feels out of place in the middle of all this mess. You never really thought of that. But the humor doesn't last. Erin's expression hardens again as she brings the conversation back to the gravity of the situation.

"Alright," she says, pacing slightly. "This Ronny guy and his crew—what's their next move? Did they say anything about escalating or coming after you again?"

You grimace, recalling the order they gave you. You should really explain everything; including Mabel. How exactly do you tell your ex about the girl you're in love with without it being awkward?

"So, um," you begin, scolding yourself for stuttering already. "I told them about my photographic memory–in hopes it would get the people I care about out of this world and they could just use me. Well, that backfired because they want me to get a list...from the police..."

She waits for you continue, hearing your pause.

"A list of CIs and UCs." Her eyes widen and you shake your head, letting her know you're not done. "I should mention I said I would do it because there's this girl–"

Erin groans. "Ugh, Y/N, you are such a simp," Erin finishes, pinching the bridge of her nose. Your jaw drops at the name calling. It's unnecessary. "You're telling me you volunteered to steal a CI/UC list from the police... because of a girl?"

You cringe inwardly, feeling the weight of your poor decision hanging in the air. "Not just any girl," you say quietly. "Her name's Mabel. She means a lot to me."

Erin shakes her head, exasperated. The conversation isn't awkward thankfully, but you wish it was if it meant less name calling. "Do you even realize what kind of trouble you're in? Do you know what happens if you get caught with something like that?"

You nod, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "I know, Erin, I know. But I didn't know what else to do. I thought maybe I could trade myself and keep everyone else safe."

Erin stands there for a moment, her eyes searching yours, trying to make sense of what you're telling her. "You're in over your head, Y/N. And believe me, I know you were in a war zone but that was in a different country–this is right in the middle of your hometown."

You look down at your feet, well aware of the circumstances. But it still stings to hear how dumb your decisions were.

"I get that you care about this girl, but putting yourself in the crosshairs like this... it's reckless."

You swallow, knowing she's right but unwilling to back down. "I couldn't just stand by and let them hurt her. Or my family. I needed to do something."

Erin exhales sharply, clearly frustrated. "You should've come to me sooner. You could've brought this to me without making deals with criminals, without putting yourself in even deeper shit."

"I didn't think you'd want to help," you admit quietly, avoiding her gaze.

"I'm a cop!" Erin shouts then lowers her voice when she remembers where they are. "I help people. It's my job. And had you come to me, I would've helped you despite our past."

The weight of Erin's words hits you hard, her frustration more palpable now. She takes a deep breath, regaining her composure, and looks you straight in the eyes. "Despite everything, I would've been there for you."

You swallow, your throat tight. "I didn't want to drag you into this," you mutter. "Not after everything."

Erin shakes her head, her expression softening but still stern. "Y/N, this isn't about us. This is about your life, your family, and this girl you care about. You can't handle this alone, and you don't have to."

The silence between you stretches, heavy and charged with unspoken tension. You shift in your seat, guilt gnawing at you. "I'm sorry," you finally whisper. "I didn't want anyone to get hurt, especially not you."

Erin lets out a sigh, running a hand through her hair. "Well, it's too late for apologies now. What matters is what we do next."

You nod, finally meeting her gaze. "What do we do?"

Erin straightens up, her voice steady and commanding again. "First, you need to stay out of Ronny's way. I'll dig into his crew and see if I can get enough to take them down. But you—" she points at you, her tone firm—"are done with this. No more deals, no more risky moves."

You nod, your heart pounding, hoping this plan works before things spiral even more out of control.

"But..." Erin raises a brow, and you chuckle nervously. "He gave me two days."

Erin clenches her jaw. She shakes her head and inhales a deep breath, calming herself down. "Then we should get started."

\\\\\

Mabel yanks the blanket off the boy, causing him to roll off the bed. He grunts when his body collides with the floor, groaning soon after when he tries to get up with the help of his injured hand. He glances up and his eyes widen, the sight of his ex-girlfriend towering him frightening him.

"What do you know?" Mabel asks him.

Charlie sits up and rubs his chest, confusion crossing his face. "About?" He asks, the question lacking any kind of specifics.

"About Y/N," Charlie tilts his head and she rolls her eyes. "Faro."

"Ooh," Charlie scratches the back of his neck. He shrugs and sits back against the wall. "I don't know anything."

Mabel tilts her head at him. He swallows thickly, not having received this glare from her in a while. "I'll give you a minute." She kneels to be eye level with him, glare much more intense than before. "And if you don't tell me what I need to know, I will make sure your hand stays broken."

Charlie hasn't seen this side of Mabel before. In the two years he's known her, or in the year he dated her.

Charlie swallows hard, his injured hand cradled against his chest. He's not sure if Mabel's bluffing, but the cold, determined look in her eyes tells him she means business.

"Mabel, I swear, I don't know much. Just... bits and pieces," he stammers, his voice trembling slightly. "Y/N, she's—she's in deep. She's mixed up with some dangerous people."

Mabel narrows her eyes, leaning in closer. "What people? What exactly do you know?"

Charlie shifts uncomfortably under her gaze, glancing toward the door as if hoping for an escape. But there's none. "I'm not sure who exactly," he finally admits, his voice a little shaky. "But I overheard her talking to Weeks' crew... something about debts. It sounds bad, Mabel. Real bad."

Mabel's jaw tightens, her eyes flickering with a mix of anger and concern. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" she demands, her voice low and dangerous.

Charlie looks down, guilt washing over his face. "I didn't want to drag you into it. You're better off not getting involved with them again." He sighs when he sees her face, a look of betrayal. "I warned her to stay away from you." He tells her.

Mabel's eyes narrow. "You're not my keeper, Charlie," she huffs. "I can take care of myself. I was in this life before I met you, and her."

Charlie frowns. "But you got out," he says quietly, like it's a secret. "I wanted you out of this. She said she would make sure you didn't get in this either."

Mabel stands up, her hands clenched into fists. "Well, now I am," she says, her voice laced with resolve. "And I'm not letting her handle this alone."

Charlie watches her, knowing better than to argue. This wasn't the Mabel he once knew—the one who stayed back when things got tough. This was a Mabel ready for a fight, and it scared him almost as much as whatever danger you were facing.

Charlie finally stands up, looking at her in worry. "What are you going to do?" He asks, following Mabel out of his room.

"Get you all out of this," Mabel says, sighing quietly as she pulls her phone out. She checks her messages again and scoffs when she sees you still haven't responded; to any of her messages. She even tried calling you, no answer. "Call your brother and the guys."

Charlie hesitates, standing in the doorway as Mabel moves with determination, already scrolling through her phone. "Mabel, calling my brother—" he starts to protest.

"Just do it," Mabel snaps, her frustration boiling over. "We need every advantage we can get. If she's already tangled up in Weeks' old mess, it's only a matter of time before things get worse."

Charlie sighs, reluctantly pulling out his phone, and steps aside to make the call. He glances at her, still worried, but knowing better than to question her any further. As he walks into the next room, Mabel leans against the wall, staring at the screen of her phone, her fingers hovering over your contact.

He comes back from calling his brother and sees her, sees how worried she is.

Charlie walks back into the room, his phone still in his hand, and pauses when he sees Mabel leaning against the wall, staring at her phone. Her expression is hard, but he can see the worry etched in the tension of her jaw and the way her fingers hover over your contact without pressing call.

"You really care about her, huh?" Charlie asks quietly, stepping closer but keeping his distance.

Mabel doesn't look up, her eyes still fixed on the screen. "Yeah, I do," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. The vulnerability in her tone is new to him, something he hadn't heard from her in the time they were together.

Charlie shoves his hands in his pockets, unsure of what to say. "Sorry," she looks at him, wondering what he's sorry about. He shrugs. "I wanted to prove we can be friends so I took you to the pier. Then I had to knock your bag into the ocean...kinda my fault you guys met."

Mabel smiles slightly, amused by his words.

"She's pretty tough," Charlie adds with another shrug. "Tommy said she saved their asses. Even Costa's. Bargained herself to get Costa out of the deal."

Mabel's small smile fades as Charlie's words sink in. "She bargained herself?" Her voice is calm, but her eyes darken with anger.

Charlie nods slowly, sensing her shift in mood. "Something about a photographic memory," he shrugs. He sees Mabel's jaw tighten and he regrets sharing. "Mabel, she didn't want you or anyone else caught up in it."

Mabel clenches her fists at her sides, trying to keep her emotions in check. "She's such an idiot. That's exactly why she hasn't been answering me," she mutters. "She's trying to handle this alone."

Charlie hesitates, not wanting to say the wrong thing. "She's probably doing what she thinks is best," he offers. "Protecting everyone."

Mabel straightens up, determination hardening her features. "Well, I'm done with people trying to protect me by keeping me in the dark." She pushes off the wall, her jaw set.

Charlie follows her out of his place. "What exactly is your plan?"

Mabel looks back at him. "I'll let you know when I have one. Be ready, okay?"

Charlie nods, watching her get in her car then drive off.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #finestkind #mabel (finestkind)#lighthouse #mabel (finestkind) x reader

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