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jawritter · 2 years ago

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Carry On

Chapter 23

Summary: It was just a simple hunt, found on a pie festival. It was supposed to be easy. Something they’d all done one hundred and one times a million. No one could have told Y/N, Dean, and Sam that nothing from that point on would ever be the same again.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: This chapter is gonna be a little heavy right off the bat. VERY, VERY light smut warning. Nightmare. (We’re gonna be back in the barn for a hot second.) Multiple Viewpoints. Dream in in Italics. The reader also is starting to have some thoughts and insecurities.

Due to the graphic nature of this fic, and the fact that it will eventually contain Smut. This fic is an 18 + only fic! If you’re under 18 DO NOT read this fic!

A/N: This fic is beta’d by @kazsrm67 Thanks so much love! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this ride with me!

My Mastlist Series Masterlist

Y/N watched in silence as Dean turned the water on in the shower, and steam filled the small bathroom the pair of them were standing in. She noticed how his hands trembled slightly with every moment, and she was curious as to why? She’d been in the same room with him while he showered before. Hell, she’d seen more of him than he had during his recovery. So why he would be nervous was beyond her.

It was her that should have been nervous, terrified even; but she wasn’t. Maybe because she was far too busy worrying over Dean to be nervous.

When he turned around to face her, his shoulders slumped slightly, he attempted to give her a halfhearted smirk, but it died somewhere on his face, and that’s what made her take a tentative step forward and wrap her arms around him. She didn’t like seeing him this way, and she never would.

“You don’t have to do this you know,” Y/N attempted. “I can go downstairs and make us some breakfast, then we can just binge watch whatever you want to watch for the rest of the day; just have some us time.”

Dean rested his head on top of hers, and wrapped his arms around her, holding her as close to him as possible. Like if he let go, she’d run away and never come back.

“No—you don’t understand. It’s not that I don’t wan—Fuck.”

Dean took a deep breath, he hated when he stuttered over his words. He hated not knowing the right thing to say; Y/N knew this, so she just stood there holding onto him, letting him work it out.

“I just… I just don’t want you to go into this with any expectations sweetheart. Cause the likelihood that you’d end up very disappointed is a big one.”

“Dean,” she quickly interjected, “you KNOW that’s not what this is about.”

“I know,” Dean sighed heavily. “It’s something that’s easier said than done though. It’s one thing to SAY that there are no expectations, but it’s another entirely when I know you're struggling with the lack of… physical contact from my end.”

Y/N was pretty sure, this is what it felt like to be suddenly sucker punched in the gut by some heavyweight wrestler, because she didn’t know whether her legs wanted to give out, or whether she wanted to just vomit.

“Dean, I’ve never said—”

“You talk in your sleep baby… and I don’t sleep much anymore.”

Humiliated, she felt completely and totally fucking humiliated. In fact, if the floor could have opened up, she would have gladly jumped in and allowed the earth to swallow her whole. All this time, she thought she’d been keeping her insecurities to herself. Apparently, she was just fooling herself.

As soon as she could feel her legs again, as she stood there opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water, she turned away from him, fully intent on fleeing the situation all together, and finding a rock to crawl under when he stopped her, and pulled her into him so fast that it almost kicked in that old hunters, fight or flight, reaction, but Dean was stronger than she anticipated, and held close to him without a problem, or maybe she was just that weak.

“Easy, hey, it’s okay,” Dean attempted, but all Y/N could really focus on was the sudden ringing in her ears and the pressure that was building behind her eyes, threatening to roll down her face. “I’m not, mad sweetheart. This is in no way your fault. I’m the fuck up this time.”

Y/N shook her head, unable to make eye contact with him out of shame and the fact that her gut suddenly seemed to be doing cartwheels.

“That’s not true Dean. It’s selfish of me. It’s rude. You’ve been through so much, and I’m lucky to still have you here at all. I should be grateful, and I am. I’m so, SO sorry.”

Dean released her, and pulled the shirt she’d been sleeping in over her head, leaving her completely topless in front of him, but he kept talking, and she was thankful he did, because if he didn’t then she might have not had time to let the anxiety and self doubt she was fighting against win.

“I’ve always had a huge problem,” Dean continued as he slipped her sensible panties down her legs, and held her hand as she stepped out of them, before dropping his own sweats. “That problem is, when I’m struggling with something, or when I’m struggling with my, you know my own mental health, I shut down. Hard. Usually, that means busying myself with things that don’t mean much around me; work, the cars, and I tend to neglect the things that really matter in order to keep myself busy and out of my head. That’s what I’ve done here.”

“Dean, you haven’t neglect—”

“Yes, I have. I’ve been up for a long time now, and I’ve had a while to think this through, and you’re not going to change my mind,” Dean announced stubbornly as he laced his fingers with hers and pulled her into the shower with him, allowing the warm spray to cascade down them. “Just because I don’t know exactly where my physical limitations are, I’ve pushed away any form of intimacy, even if sex wasn’t on the table yet. There was no reason why I couldn’t have spent time with you, other than I’m a coward.”

“You aren’t a coward Dean,” Y/N argued, “I can’t say that in your situation I’d be much better had the rolls been reversed.”

Dean picked up the shampoo off the shelf of the sidewall of the shower, and started working it through her hair.

“Well, I disagree. In fact, you’ve been through just as much as I have here. Maybe not the physical, but sometimes the mental can be worse than any physical limitation. You’ve ripped up your whole life for mine, and I haven’t even been able to make myself give you the time and attention you deserve, but I’m in denial about being stuck in my own head.”

The more he talked, the more the pit in her stomach grew, and the pressure behind her eyes increased. She refused to cry in front of him though, even though she knew he was right, honestly, that’s probably what made it worse. He was right. The mental changes she’d been through, that was a whole new thing for her, and it had affected her, more than she let herself think it had.

“Hey,” Dean finally said, placing his fingers under her chin and forcing her to look at him once he’d washed her mostly from head to toe. “That’s gonna change from now on, okay? I’m going to start making myself stop long enough to pay attention to things I need to pay attention to; I’m not gonna live in this constant fear that whatever happens between us physically I’ll end up wallowing in pain on the floor, and being nothing but a giant disappointment to you or anyone else.”

Dean placed a rag into her hand, and she robotically started to work her way over his body, over every freckle and every scar that littered his imperfect skin, damaged from years of trauma and hunting. It wasn’t repulsive, it wasn’t even something that one could see all the time with the naked eye, but when she looked, really looked at him, she could see it. Dean wasn’t the only one at fault. She knew that.

“I’ll go along with you Dean,” she said, and she watched him physically shy in relief. “But I want you to understand,” she said as she continued to take her time with him, working her way from his head to his shoulders, stopping to paint his face with her fingers, and watching as he shivered under her touch. “You’re not the only one that messed up here. I wasn’t open and honest with you either. I wasn’t talking to you when maybe I should have been. Maybe I should have pushed you a little more than I have been to take care of yourself, especially your mental health, because I was afraid, you’d shut down on me, or push me out completely. I also wanted to respect your recovery time as well as your privacy, cause I know this is anything but easy; still I also should have been talking to you about what I was struggling with too, and I didn’t. I didn’t make the effort I should have made to indicate any sort of closeness. I shut you down too Dean; I shouldn’t have done that.”

Dean said nothing, he just let her talk to him as he let his eyes wander over her shoulders and her face as his fingers danced across the skin of her back as she continued to work on him.

He needed this too, just as much as she did, and she could see that now. She should have seen that before. He wasn’t trying to push her away. He wasn’t tired of her. He was just afraid, and he’d been through enough to have a very good reason to be afraid. It did make her feel better that he was acknowledging that this wasn’t exactly easy for her either.

“We’ll have to lie about the nature of the accident to the therapist, unless you want the therapist to need therapy,” Y/N teased to break the heaviness that had settled over him, Dean chuckled to himself, and smiled genuinely for the first time in a long time.

“We’ll come up with something,” he assured her as she placed the rag to the side, and he pulled her into him again, letting his lips brush over her and down her neck back to her ear. “Well say I got hurt on a job doing construction or something; or just use whatever lie you guys told at the hospital in Ohio.”

Presently, Y/N was standing with Dean under the falling water in the shower, letting his lips leave little trails along her collarbone and throat as his hands explored whatever skin they could find. Mentally, she was in total and complete shock that he'd agreed to therapy, and more than a little concerned that whatever happened to make this shift, whatever she might have said in her sleep, whatever dream he may have had, whatever flashback, must have been really bad. Cause Dean didn’t bend easily.

Without warning, Dean shut the water off and reached to grab a towel off the rack, just outside of the shower doors, to wrap it around her, to make sure she was warm before he even bothered with himself at all, and her stomach dropped to her feet. They were making progress, she’d seen a glimpse of the old Dean Winchester, even if it was just a brief one, but just like that, he shut it down again as they both stepped outside of the shower.

Then the guilt hit her again, he’d plainly told her not to step into the shower with him with any expectations, yet apparently, she had, or else she wouldn’t feel like they had made some ground, just to run a football field’s length in the other direction.

She continued to towel herself off as she watched Dean do the same before, he turned and walked towards the door of their bedroom, not even bothering to dress himself, and laid down on the still unmade bed. She stared at him in confusion for a moment, completely and totally halting her movements as she watched him.

That wasn’t like Dean. Normally, Dean stayed well covered during the day with his typical, multiple layers. Never did he go back to bed after he’d had a shower in the morning; never had he even walked from room to room without his clothing, all the way down to his fucking boots, firmly in place.

It crossed her mind, since they seemed to be in somewhat of a self-examining mood, that this was another problem she had. She was having a struggle with letting go of being his caretaker; always worried if something was wrong with him, if he was hurting, or if he needed something, and stepping into the more intimate role of his girlfriend.

Dean no longer needed a caretaker. He didn’t need someone to fix his food for him, dress him, drive him around, take him to doctor’s appointments, physical therapy appointments, what Dean needed was a partner. Not a nurse. He’d gotten past that, and some of the reason; a lot of the reason they were at this stalemate in their ‘relationship’, is because of the caretaker mentality that she was harboring. She wanted to be closer to him, and if she was going to do that she was going to have to start treating him like a man, and not a patient, because that couldn’t be good for Dean’s mental state either.

So, she did exactly what he did. Mirroring his actions, Y/N dropped her own towel to the floor; the mess could wait, they had all day, and she made her way towards the bed; her entire body trembling with nerves. She watched Dean as she approached him, his gaze never wavering as she crossed the floor and crawled in the bed next to him. There was a hunger there in those green depths, a wanting that she thought had died in him. It was still there, she was just ignoring it because she was far too concerned about his physical well-being.

Dean reached for her immediately; letting her settle into his side as he wrapped his arm around her, and placed his lips to her forehead, letting them linger there for a moment as they settled.

“I love you Y/N, I know I don’t tell you enough, but I do,” his deep voice was quiet, as close to a whisper as she’d ever heard him.

“I love you too Dean.”

He’d never really said it before. He’d insinuated it, but never really verbally told her he loved her, and man if there ever was a day that she ever needed to hear it said, it was then.

“Do—do you trust me?” he questioned; Y/N nodded, snuggling herself deeper into him. She always hated when someone asked her that question.

“I had said I wanted to try something, and I’ve tried to do it myself, but mentally I just can’t get there. There’s just too much trauma—too much damage.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she listened to him struggle with putting his thoughts into words. That wasn’t a side of Dean that he normally let people see; the side of him that he kept hidden. Dean always liked to be in control. Always like to at least look like everything was fine, even when everything really was far from fine.

After a moment of hesitation, Dean’s hand slipped forward to grab her own, and move it down his body.

“Dean?” she questioned as he placed her hand over his flaccid length.

“It’s okay,” Dean affirmed, “I want to know if I can get there. There’s no way I can make myself do this on my own. I need your help if I have any hope at all of— What I’m trying to say is I don’t even know if I can, and I want to know if I can, because that’s what’s tormenting me the most; the fear that I can get started, but when it comes to the punchline so to speak. I mean, I’m literally having nightmares about it. The only way to face that is to face it. I’ve tried to do it alone, and it just throws me into a panic attack.”

“Dean, I have no problem helping you, I want to help you. I’m glad you feel safe enough to talk to me about something this personal, but you’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself, are you sure you wanna do it this way? I feel like you’re making it harder on yourself just getting here with the anticipation of ‘let me find out whether or not I can do this?’ I know there’d be no way I’d be able to respond to that kind of pressure.”

Dean chewed on his lip as he thought. “Then what do you suggest sweetheart? ‘Cause I don’t know how to go about this from here, at least not for me.?

Y/N sat up slightly, brushing his hair back from his forehead as she watched him. He was struggling; she could see that, but she also knew with this much pressure on him, if he tried and failed, he’d never try again, and that wasn’t fair to him or his recovery.

“Well, we’re gonna start off with your ass not even getting out of the bed today, I want you to relax. I want you to distract yourself, and not even think about it. Then, later tonight, we’re gonna go have a ‘normal’ night together. We’re gonna get you out of this house; go out and eat something, next we’re gonna go see a movie, and then we’re gonna come back here like you would have done with any other date back in the day, and see what happens from there. No pressure. No expectations, just… two adults spending some time together, how does that sound?”

Dean thought about it for a moment, before finally swallowing thickly and nodding his head as he loosened his grip on her hand, and allowed her to let go of him. “Okay, okay, I think I can do that.”

“Good,” she smiled at him, and leaned forward to place a tentative kiss on the corner of his mouth before she popped out of bed, and grabbed her housecoat to toss it over her body.

“Where are you going?” he questioned, sitting up slightly on his elbow, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“I’m starving, I’m going to fix us breakfast, then I’M going shopping while you sit here and be a good boy, and not stress yourself out.”

“Shopping? For what?”

She could tell his confusion was getting worse, and that only made her smirk at him as she walked towards the door of the bedroom.

“You’re just gonna have to wait around and find out later tonight aren’t you,” she teased as she closed the door and walked downstairs with her thoughts running a thousand miles a minute.

She was going to make this night successful for him, he deserved this. She was going to try and give him the best experience possible. Even if things didn’t go the way HE wanted them to go, she wanted to make sure he didn’t walk away disappointed. No matter what.

Forever:

@bubsonnobx

@britnwinchester

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat

@wittysunflower

@demongirl1996

@as-lost-as-sams-shoe

@jensenslady79

@spnwoman

@stoneyggirl2

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men

@stixnstripesworld

@fullwattpadmusictree

@nancymcl

@christycreature

@whiskey-infused-dreams

@supernatural79impala

@deandreamernp

@forgetthisbull

@miraclesoflove

@slamminmine

@deanwanddamons

@rvgrsbrns

@chevyharvelle

@i-love-superhero-movies

@lyss-dw79

@magssteenkamp

@lemondropirwin

@squirrelnotsam

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@defenderrosetyler

@thecreatiivecorner

@vicmc624

@busy-bee-angel-misska

@justanotherwinchester

@brilovesdeanwinchester

@idksupernatural

@lyarr24

@emoryhemsworth

@dean-winchesters-gardian-angel

@flamencodiva

@itmejado

@thoughts-and-funnies

@teresa-67

@hearteyes-j2

@peaches007

@bobbie3939

@vulgar-library

@writercole

@fairlyspnfanfic

@sexyvixen7

@spngi

@b3autyfuldisast3r

@donnaintx

@maliburenee

@the-family-business67

@agirlwithdemonblood

@captainsoldiergirl

@twinkleinadiamondsky

Jensen and Dean’s Babes

@deans-baby-momma

@impalaslytherin

@perpetualabsurdity

@msmarvelouswinchester

@akshi8278

@love-jackles

@irmcpar

@pink-sparkly-witch

@deans-spinster-witchs-favorites

@herstarburststories

@mimaria420

@deanwinchesterswitch

@charred-angelwings

@pascal-rascal424

@myloversgone

@fortheloveof-jackles

@eevvvaa

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@samsgirl93

@shawnie74

@kaz11283

@mlovesstories

@ladysparks78

@sarahgracej

#carry on #dean winchester series #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #hurt!dean winchester x reader #hurt!dean winchester x you #hurt!dean winchester x y/n #hurt!dean x reader #hurt!dean x you #hurt!dean x y/n #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn series #jawritter #jensen ackles

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seravphs · 7 months ago

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Hello sera!! How've you been? It's actually my first time sending an ask to your account!

I stumbled across your account because i was sooo desperate into discovering a good kamisama kiss au wherein the fox yokai gets to be gojo-

Then finally! I saw yours! I was so excited that i found one here on tumblr, since tumblr is the only app i use in order to read well made fics!

And now im wondering if you're going to continue in writing the, 'part two: the god finds a husband'.

If you're totally busy or taking a break from your school i totally understand it! But please give a heads-up if you're going to continue!

But if you have already decided on cancelling it, i totally respect your decision since i suppose some of your writings have been piled up and have been waiting to be finished!

Please remember to take a longgg comfortable sleep—enough to to fully energise you! Take care and thank chuu!

Hello!! I love you!

I feel like everyone saw this coming but I fear my writer era might be coming to a close. I’m a junior in college now so I just have way too much to do for my “real life.” I’ve written a few short works that I haven’t posted yet and I’m not sure what to do with them. I haven’t written anything for the series that people want to see most either.

I never want to say never, because it’s not like I’m opposed to or resentful of writing, but the job market is ruthless lol. Unfortunately I have to focus on getting ahead while I can. Mostly I’m just hanging out here to catch up with my friends now but if I suddenly get a ton of free time - or a million dollars - I’ll probably return to these series.

Thank you for being so kind (and respectful) <3 I appreciate you more than you know. If I could I would’ve finished the series just for you, but there’s just too much going on in my life right now. Take care of yourself!

#on a real note I am experiencing some crippling anxiety over how fast life is coming at me

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october-nightt · 1 year ago

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teaser for new series: in too deep

warnings: cussing, slightly sexual content, unfaithful jack

I looked at my phone. jack's girlfriend was so pretty. it was a picture of them together, they looked so in love.

one of the most loved Instagram models there is. she had millions of adoring fans and a pretty face... a gorgeous face.

so, why was jack in your bed last night...why was jack inside of you last night.

you couldn't quite comprehend.

-flashback from last night-

you were sitting on your couch in your living room with a new book you had just bought. you were so excited to read it but before you could even finish the 1st chapter someone was knocking on your door

you were confused because you weren't expecting visitors but you got up and opened the door anyways

"jack? its almost midnight, what are you doing?" you looked at the tall man in front of you.

his bule eyes were darker than usual but you didn't think much of it

he looked good...great even. but you didn't understand why he came here out of all places

"what? I cant come see you?

he asked teasingly

"umm no, I done put my bonnet on, did my skin care, and everything .....plus your my ex"

"you look good...I seen your insta post, I love when your hair is in braids"

you walked over to your couch and sat back down. ignoring his flirty comment.

"ay. take off your shoes at the door" you said as jack walked fully into your apartment

jack did as you said and sat next to you before speaking

"I'ma be as clear as I can Y/N...."

"I need you."

the end.

just kidding!! ima give yall a little more

"jack...the last time we even spoke to each other was the day of the break up. why are you here jack?" you asked.

you didn't feel like getting involved in jack's drama again. its the whole reason you called off the relationship.

"y/n please...just one time. then I'm gone, we can go our sperate ways."

you looked into his pleading eyes, you tried to resist but even after 8 months, this man still did something to you.

after sitting in silence for what felt like forever jack began placing soft small kissed down your neck.

"still so pretty baby" he whispered in your ear.

you let out a quiet moan then before you knew it, jack had pulled you onto his lap and continued to kiss you.

his hands gripped your waist firmly, like he never wanted to let go.

"jack.. this isn't right"

you struggled yo say through your moans

"then why does it feel right?"

you didn't know the answer to that, jack had you right were he wanted you. and no matter how hard you tried to stop yourself. you were already

in too deep

now its over lmao!

but it will be released soon <3<3

#teaser #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow #jack harlow angst #x black fem reader #x black reader

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22degreehalo · 5 months ago

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Pulling my hair out........

Whyyyyyyy are people SO DESPERATE to find ways to justify harry potter being an awful book that nobody ever liked. Why is is SO GODDAMN HARD for people to just admit that a bad person could make a good thing!!!! Even a pretty decent thing!!!!! As if millions of people around the world didn't sit down to read over a MILLION WORDS for fucking nothing!!!!!!!!!!

Because I work in a library!!!!!! Harry potter is still so goddamn relevant guys!!!!!!!! We still have harry potter signs up!!!!!! There are still so many kids reading them for the first time!!!!!! Still soooooooooOOOOO many spin-offs and 'wizarding world crochet' and 'the science of Harry Potter' and 'essays on Hogwarts' and literally anything you can think of!!!!!!!! I wore a cheap-ass witch hat and two separate people asked me if it was a 'Hermione hat!'!!!!!!!! And my coworker dressed up as Professor McGonagall!!!!!!! Another coworker has an 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good' lanyard!!!!!! Hell, my aunt in goddamn America moved in to a new apartment and do you know what event they put on to bring the tenants together? A Harry Potter crafts day!!!!!!!!!!!

Christ all fucking mighty, regardless of how you personally feel about it now (or back then, if you were ~oh so smart~ enough to uhm Acktchually have hated it from day 1), it was a global phenomenon that got millions of kids into reading. Was it in the right place at the right time? Yeah!!!!!! Just like literally anything that becomes a phenomenon!!!!!!! But IT HAPPENED, and *to this day* Harry Potter is a global symbol of reading and wonder and childhood and it's been fucking decades and you simply cannot change that now!!!!!!! You know what people still to this day recommend to people learning new languages? Reading Harry Potter, because it's immediately assumed of everyone that you'll not just be familiar with the story but know all the beats well enough to follow along with the story even when you can't fully understand what you're reading!!!!!!!!!!

Just oh my fucking GOD, I know this is an unhinged rant but I still keep *hoping* that *this time* if I take a peek behind those filtered tags, I might see a post with some vague tangential reference to reality as it pertains to the most popular modern book series of all time, but as always: nope!!!!! God for fucking bid we acknowledge even for a microsecond that Goodness and Beauty are not inextricably intertwined!!! Absolutely anything to justify ourselves as True Of Heart because we, The Good Ones, would never commit such thought crimery as having positive emotions about a work of art whose author later became a transphobe!!! And of course we can't possibly ever praise the work's anticlassism messages oe statements of tolerance or diversity, because that means Saying She's Right About Everything Ever, so we have no choice but to continue this vicious cycle wherein people only ever hear bad things in this goddamn stupid echo chamber and that just becomes the 'objective truth'!!!!!!

God I'm just fucking waiting for when somebody posts some old letters of Tolkein's and suddenly everyone remembers that he was an old white Catholic man who started a lot of the goddamn racial charicatures HP is blamed for and wrote a whole goddamn race of Always Chaotic Evil sentient beings. Where's all that ~hopepunk~ ~ohhh it's about community gathering together (unlike Harry Potter which idk I guess the MC just did everything huh)~~ bullshit going to go then? Not that I think LotR is actually objectively bad, even though I tried to read it and didn't like it and never cared for the movies at all (they're just action movies. They're literally just action movies in a fantasy setting yall I'm glad you guys enjoy them but to me they're pretty goddamn boring 90% of their runtime) because I am a person capable of nuanced thought and acknowledgement of the concept that sometimes other people can find meaning and enjoyment in things that I myself do not without being objectively wrong!!!!!!!!

#i dont like pratchett either. kill me.#ive tried numerous times but its not creative and uplifting it's just. weirdly judgemental and full of itself.#kill me.#sorry im going crazy here but ive been sane on this blog for a while so ive earned it.#like shooting warning shots to keep rents down.#i dont think fictional lolicon or whatever is bad atually either. piss off.#just to clarify the goddamn situation here.#harry potter tw #hp tw #jkr tw #gods I fucking. hate jkr so much I want to bash my head against a wall.

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depressedbagpipe · 2 years ago

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"Blackbird to Robin, do you copy?" (Billy Russo x ofc)

Chapter five

Words: 3780 Warnings: owen being a creepy dude, bad writing, foul language, me not understanding how radio frequency works, ice cream??? art ignorance but not in a cute way, ACTUAL VIOLENCE AND SH00TINGS (pls read at your own risk), death and blood, explosion, me not knowing how explosions work A/N: i have never been to nyc so I'm fully relying on the met's webpage and google maps for the central park descriptions. also, sorry for the long wait, and please, AGAIN, this chapter may contain sensitive topics so please, if you don't feel comfortable enough, skip to the end. also mind you, i have never written/experienced any of this before, so let's pretend this is the best writing you've every seen. Taglist: @badasseddy, @noortsshift, @britishbassett

Series Masterlist Previous chapter <> Next chapter

Chapter five

‘Remind me how this is a good idea again?’

‘We gotta monitor everybody you come in contact with. So it’s either this or I just show up on your date and start talking to you both.’

‘Alright, alright, I get it,’ I groaned, pulling together my coat to muffle the noise. ‘Safest bet.’

‘Safest bet,’ Billy confirmed.

‘And you’re sure the mic’s hidden? And the com?’ I asked, unconsciously bringing my hand to my ear, pushing the ear com even deeper, afraid anybody could see the tiny device poking out.

I could feel Billy rolling his eyes. ‘We’ve checked a million times, Dana, everything will be fine. Do you remember our cues?’

‘Right ear, three times. One cough, and a rub on the nose,’ I recited, my eyes fixed on the white building.

‘Good girl.’

Billy was sitting down on a bench on the other side of the street, with my back to him. Thankfully, he couldn’t see my face, or else he would’ve noticed the way my skin flared up at his words.

‘What’s up with the names, anyway,’ I asked, looking around, looking for Owen. But Owen wasn’t there yet.

‘They’re cool,’ Billy replied after taking a sip of his coffee.

‘They’re lame.’

‘Well, they were our code names during the war. Maybe you’d like to complain to the Marines about it .’

‘But why birds? You guys were in the sea, you should’ve been fish,’ I sauntered.

‘Dana.’

‘Would’ve made life so much funnier. Like, “Cod, this is salmon speaking.” Have you seen Spongebob Squarepants?’

‘Dana.’

‘Literally the Fish News Anchor.’

‘Dana!’

‘What?’

‘Owen’s here.’

‘Oh shit.’

‘You sound excited.’

‘I am.’

‘Liar.’

‘Well, I’d be if you weren’t here but you can’t always get what you want,’ I waved at Owen, who made his way toward me with an excited grin on his face. My mouth was still hidden in my scarf, having the cold weather as an excuse.

‘Be careful, Robin.’

‘I’ll be, Blackbird.’

…

‘It is quite a beautiful piece, isn’t it?’

‘What do you know about modern art, Owen?’ I chuckled at him.

He was staring at the figure of what appeared to be an iron stick on white cardboard. Even the sculpture had no name, and the author was anonymous, leading me to think it had only been a joke on the museum's behalf. Owen was staring at it with a concentrated look on his face, his eyes squinted behind his rectangular-framed glasses. He was scratching his chin in deep thought, nodding his head occasionally, as if the sculpture was talking to him.

‘Not much, but I wanted to impress you.’

‘What a pity, he can’t even make light conversation without making a fool of himself,’ Billy’s voice suddenly said in my ear.

I laughed, despite wanting to scold him. ‘Don’t be mean.’

‘What?’ Owen looked at me again, confusion on his face.

I widened my eyes. ‘To yourself, I mean. I don’t know much about modern sculpture either, I quite prefer impressionist paintings,’ I looked back at the iron stick, hoping Owen would fall for the quick comeback.

‘Yeah, impressionism’s cool. I like the, eh, brushes,’ he said, following after me as I moved on to another piece.

‘Brushes?’ I laughed.

‘Okay, I just told you I don’t know much about art,’ he threw his hands in the air. ‘I mean, I could have done that,’ he pointed at the painting on the wall, a few splashes of paint right in the middle.

I scoffed. ‘Yeah, but you didn’t,’ I said, enjoying the frown on his face.

‘Oh, c’mon! Even a toddler could’ve done that!’ a few people shushed him when he raised his voice.

I smiled at them in embarrassment. Billy wouldn’t have brought the attention to him like that. Why was I even thinking about Billy was out of the question.

‘That’s the point, isn’t it? It’s up to us to decide what the art is about. That’s what makes it beautiful,’ I said, almost wistful.

Those weren’t my words; they were Amelia’s. Amelia Jones, the woman who had sacrificed her life for me for twenty years without expecting anything in return.

‘That’s bullshit,’ Owen scoffed.

‘Well, get your own painting exhibited at the MET and then we’ll talk.’

I was suddenly annoyed by him, his words leaving a stinging sensation in my heart.

‘He’s an idiot,’ Billy’s voice was low.

It made me shiver ever so slightly. I didn’t respond.

‘Alright, I’m sorry, I just, I guess I never really knew how to appreciate the finer arts,’ Owen suddenly spoke behind me.

I turned around, lifting an eyebrow at him.

‘What did you do at school then?’ I tried to laugh it off, but every heartbeat only sent me further away from him.

He shrugged. ‘Chasing pretty girls like you.’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Dana, don’t fall for that,’ Billy groaned in my ear.

I had to stifle the laugh. It was a bit much even for me.

‘You tell every girl that?’ I asked Owen, much more interested now that I had Billy’s constant commentary just to myself.

‘Just the ones I like,’ Owen winked at me.

‘Anything else up your sleeve?’ I asked again.

‘I hope not,’ Billy grumbled.

‘Many things. But I’m not gonna show all my cards just yet,’ Owen grabbed my hand as he led me down the hallway, completely ignoring the rest of the exhibition.

I didn’t like the way his skin felt on mine. It was clammy and cold, and it did nothing to prevent the icy shiver that ran up my arm. Owen must have noticed, because he smirked smugly while he kept his gaze up front.

‘Why not?’ I was desperate to release my hand from his grip, the nervousness growing by the second, but I held my front and followed him regardless.

‘How am I supposed to keep you around?’ Owen replied nonchalantly.

‘I just know in his head it sounded so good,’ Billy noted.

I snorted.

‘You wanna keep me around?’ I smirked at Owen, already knowing how he was going to respond.

‘Definitely,’ he tightened his grip on my hand.

I tried so hard not to wince, not out of pain, but out of discomfort. Under any other circumstance I would have laughed and gone along with his awful jokes and made excuses to continue into a second date, but every single time I tried to think about a possible future in which Owen was something more than a classmate, Billy’s head popped into my head.

I barely noticed Owen leading me to the exit.

‘Wait, we’re leaving already?’ I frowned, looking back to the big sign next to the doors where the words ‘European Paintings’ shone as if someone was holding a light directly from above for me to follow the path to them. Grabbing our coats from the coat check, he didn’t spare a second glance at me. He drew his arm over my shoulders, and even the weight felt weird and unfamiliar.

Owen pulled me closer to him, making me stumble slightly as I stopped for a few seconds while I looked back, not ready to leave the museum, and slightly altered at his rash behavior.

‘Yeah, I think I much rather get that ice cream now.’

We passed over the big doors and into the street. A huge cloud passed over the sun as we went down the stairs onto the main street, and the smirk he sent my way suddenly turned dark.

…

Even the ice cream tasted wrong.

‘I don’t think this is the best idea, considering the temperature,’ I reckoned, looking up at the sky, where the clouds had turned almost pitch-black.

Owen followed my gaze and shrugged, unbothered. ‘I don’t see why you can’t have ice cream in February,’ he gave a big lick to his vanilla cone, fixing his eyes on me as he did so.

I had to stop myself from physically gagging, what I knew was his attempt at flirting going all the way south. The alarms had been blaring in my head ever since we left the museum, and I didn’t know how much louder they could possibly get until I paid attention to them, or they broke on their own accord, whichever came first.

‘Well, at least it won’t melt in my hands,’ I said, using the little spoon to grab a bit of my chocolate one, anything to give me an excuse to not look at him. I winced at the cold that met my teeth. ‘Ouch.’

‘What was that?’

‘Too cold.’

‘Well, I can’t control the weather,’ he took me forcefully by my hand.

I let him lead me away, noticing how he very straightforwardly walked across the gates to Central Park. I sighed slightly in relief, for at least people were walking around with their families and friends, infusing life into the biggest park in Manhattan. I knew that, no matter how much Owen wanted to, we wouldn’t fully be alone, and it would also give Billy plenty of space to hide.

Speaking of, I hadn’t caught sight of him when we left the museum, silently praying that he would be around, no matter how infuriating his presence was. Even though I didn’t want to admit it, his company had been rubbing on me, and the weird feeling his absence left was too powerful for me to ignore.

‘Turn back,’ Billy finally spoke in my ear.

He sounded a bit out of breath, and distant. Whatever connection we had over the ear coms, it wasn’t very strong now.

‘Why?’ I asked.

‘I don’t have powers, Dana, although that would be really cool. There is weirder stuff flying around, that’s for sure,’ Owen laughed. I had almost forgotten about whatever he said, but, once again, Owen didn’t notice the little shenanigan I was playing at.

‘There’s too much interference with the trees. Don’t let him take you to a second location,’ Billy answered pretty much at the same time.

The first thing that popped into my head was that maybe that interference could be nice. It certainly would allow me not to have Billy’s constant nagging in my ear every time Owen put his foot in his mouth. The second thing that popped into my head basically yelled at me to listen to him, and my own anxiety, and run far away from Owen, for good.

It didn’t take a genius to know what I did next.

I only retrieved my hand from Owen’s grip when he abruptly released it. I took fast bites of my ice cream, for some reason feeling I should have both hands empty for whatever came next with him around.

‘Why don’t we sit over there?’ Owen motioned to a bench under a big oak tree, a couple of feet away from where we stood.

I frowned. ‘Sure.’

Owen tried to grab my hand once again, but I swiftly occupied it with my ice cream, if only to give me another reason not to touch him. The flavor still tasted salty on my lips, and it only seemed to grow colder the more we walked.

The bench was a bit away from the main paths of the park, but still within clear distance. I discreetly looked around, trying to find the familiar shadow that has haunted me for days, but Billy was nowhere in sight. To say that I was concerned would have been a misunderstanding. Where the hell was he?

Owen promptly sat down and patted the seat next to his. I sighed and sat down, keeping a bit of a distance from him.

‘I certainly hope it doesn’t rain,’ Owen said, causally raising his arm and putting it back behind me on the headrest.

Looking at his hand, which rested in mid-air dangerously close to my shoulder, I suppressed a shiver and faced him once again.

‘You sure this is the best place for a date? I really think it’s gonna downpour any minute,’ I said looking up at the sky.

‘Nah, it’ll be fine, babe,’ Owen inched closer. ‘Have I told you that you look beautiful today?’

The pet name left me too stunned to speak. I didn’t like how it rolled off his tongue. I didn’t like how he directed at me.

‘No.’

‘Well, you do,’ his fingers braced my shoulder. Thankfully, the thick coat I was wearing didn’t allow the contact.

‘Honestly, Owen, I really think I should get going,’ I started, trying to stand up.

To my surprise, Owen’s hand gripped my arm tightly and forcefully sat me down again, pressing his body closer to mine.

‘No, wait, please, I… Look, Dana, I really like you. And I told you, we work well together, and I would love it if we could be something more.’

His eyes. Something hard gripped its edges and made his gaze somewhat menacing. Though he was trying to be welcoming, his grip didn’t falter.

It was the last warning I needed. ‘Owen… I don’t think I want that.’

He widened his eyes. ‘What?’

‘I’m sorry. You’re great, but I don’t think we should be together. We’re too different.’

He immediately got defensive. ‘Why? Because I don’t like staring at random points on a paper for hours? We don’t always have to go to museums.’

‘I know, but I still don’t think it’s a good idea. Besides, you’ve seen how little time I got. Between the master’s, and my job, and…’ I stopped myself before I could add anything else. ‘My life, in general, Owen, I’m not fit right now for a relationship. I’d much rather have you as a friend, and a classmate if you’ll have it.’

He didn’t say anything. He only kept looking at me. I was about to ask him whether he was fine or not, but then my phone rang. The tension didn’t leave my shoulders even after slowly taking it from my pockets and bringing it to my ear, without checking the caller first.

‘Hello?’

‘Are you fucking stupid?’ Billy almost barked.

‘Wow, hello to you too,’ I tried to laugh dismissively if only to stop Owen from listening to Billy’s near-shouts.

‘Where are you?’

‘Central Park.’

Owen tensed beside me.

‘I know that. Which part exactly?’

‘Nearby the Great Lawn. Why?’

I didn’t like the desperation in his tone.

‘Get out of there immediately.’

‘Why?’ I still couldn’t fight the annoyance that came with his order.

‘For fuck’s sake, Dana, just listen to me for once!’

‘Not until you tell me why? I’m tired of being thrown around like a fucking puppet!’ this time I stood up, walking a bit away from Owen. I turned my back to him as I stopped, staring into the distance, noticing the many families that were picking up their things. Small droplets fell on my hair mere seconds after. ‘Is it because of the rain?’

‘No, Dana, just get out of there. Go back to the MET and cross the street, we’ll meet there.’

‘You’re kind of freaking me out,’ I tried to laugh it off as my heart sped up.

I turn around to face Owen, only to find I was alone at the park. Owen had left.

‘Holy fucking shit, are you kidding me?’

‘What’s wrong?’ even Billy sounded anxious.

‘He’s gone.’

‘Owen?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Dana, get the fuck out of there.’

‘You bet,’ I said as I started walking back towards the MET, much to my own disappointment. I really didn’t want to be following Billy’s words, but I had nowhere to go anymore. ‘Fucking dick, you turn him down and he dips… Who the fuck does that?’

‘Hurry up.’

‘Shut up, Billy.’

‘Blackbird,’ he corrected.

‘Whatever. I’m coming, I’ll see you at the MET.’

I hang up before he could protest against it. A wave of emotions flooded my brain as I thought about the day, the initial anxiety that had kept mounting up since I woke up seemingly crashing down on me. I was angry at Owen for abandoning me, yet I was glad I didn’t have to pretend to enjoy his company anymore. Finishing the last bits of my ice cream and throwing it into a nearby trashcan, my walk didn’t last long, for a fast stream of screaming people made its way across the lawn in every single direction.

‘What?’ I muttered, looking around until my eyes caught what had had the people run for their lives.

Three figures, dressed in black from head to toe, were walking around with big riffles in their arms. Their heads were covered with ski masks, and their bodies were clad with all sorts of other weapons, just as deadly as the guns they held. They started shooting at everything that moved, the firing echoing violently in the air.

I was suddenly paralyzed. I saw people fall to their knees as the bullets made contact with them, yet the shooters didn’t stop. They kept walking forward, using the lawn as their private hunting spot. More men came from the other side of the trees, making more people run and crash as they tried to flee the warzone. I managed to hide behind a tree, too scared to move or run. Parents were grabbing their kids in their arms, leaving their belongings behind as they all ran, trying to get away.

‘Ro..?’ Billy’s static voice was weak in my ear, either because of the interference or because of my own fear.

‘Ro… Black… py?’ he tried again.

‘Blackbird?’ I cried, pushing the earpiece even deeper, praying to whatever god he could hear me.

‘Blackbird to Robin, do you copy?’ he finally came clear, his voice in ragged breaths. I knew he was running, the possibility of running toward me both relieving and frightening.

‘Robin to Blackbird, please, help me.’

‘Where are you?’

‘Great Lawn.’

‘Shit. Can you run?’

‘I don’t want them to see me.’

‘How many are there?’ his voice sounded clearer.

‘I count six.’

‘Damnit.’

‘Blackbird?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I’m scared.’

‘I know. I’m gonna get you out of there.’

I dared peek behind my hiding spot. Even though the tree wasn’t thick enough, it still gave me enough coverage to look back at the carnage without being seen. Dead bodies littered the ground, red covering the once-green field. I felt physically sick to my stomach, and it took everything in me not to throw up right there on the spot.

‘Almost there,’ Billy panted in my ear. ‘I’ve got my men ready, too.’

The quick movement of one of the men immediately got my attention.

‘Robin?’

I don’t know at which point the tears started to fall, but my blurry vision was making everything worse. The man held something small over his head, but I quickly realized what it was.

‘He’s got a grenade. Shit.’

It all happened too fast. One second I was deliberately running away from my life, following the screams of people and the police sirens that had invaded the dead silence between the trees. My lungs were burning, gasping for air and begging to stop, but I forced my legs to keep going. One minute I was running, and the next I was on the ground, heat flooding my body as my head collapsed on the ground. My eyes closed on their own accord, and the ringing in my ears was the only thing I heard for a few minutes.

Everything around me was silent, although I knew it was anything but. Through my peripheral vision, I caught blurry movement, running in every direction. Blue and red lights littered the place, and the air smelled of ash and sulfur. I somehow managed to lie on my back, staring at the dark sky, where the rain had only intensified during the attack.

‘Dana!’ a distant voice called my name, but I couldn’t answer back.

The smoke that had circled the area was heavy on my lungs, and my erratic heartbeat only thumped louder in my ears even as I tried to get up. I felt weak and beaten down, and the side of my head felt hot and heavy. One look at my fingers after gently touching it showed the red blood that trickled down my cheek. I winced in pain, feeling returning to my body and making me realize how every movement hurt.

‘Dana!’

Two strong hands pulled me up. I knew it was Billy, but my gaze was still so out of focus that I could only distinguish him thanks to his black robes. The urge to throw up was even bigger now, the image of the men imprinted on my brain forever. I caught sight of Billy’s gun on his hip when he gripped me by my arms.

‘Are you okay?’ his voice sounded muffled and distant.

His fingers touched the side of my head and I winced once again. I still couldn’t talk, out of shock or pain, but Billy, thankfully, quickly caught on to that.

‘We need to leave. Can you walk?’ he asked, but before I could answer, he shook his head. ‘Nevermind.’

The wind was knocked out of my lungs when he hurriedly hoisted me up into his arms, dodging the many officers and workers that were now rushing to aid the injured. Crying and yelling filled my ears. My vision was still a bit blurry, going in and out of focus, but I caught sight of the many broken people, standing around in shock with tears in their eyes.

‘Don’t look at them, look at me,’ Billy whispered in my ear.

This time I shivered. It would have been ironic, really, after spending the entire afternoon with his nasty comments in my ear. Only this time, his breath tickled the back of my neck, and the way he pressed his nose to the helix of my ear brought a warmth to my body much different from the one that the grenade had caused. And this was a warmth I wouldn’t mind experiencing every day of my life.

He occasionally glanced down at me, his eyes wrinkling at the sides with worry. It would have been a cute sight, if black spots weren’t dancing around my eyes. With every step he took, it became harder to keep them open.

‘Hold on a bit longer, Dana, we’re almost there,’ he continued.

‘I can’t,’ it hurt to speak. I coughed at the hoarseness of my throat.

Billy’s frown became even deeper, and he secured his grip on my legs. I unconsciously rested my head on his chest, his fast heartbeat making me frown too. But it was warm, and I was too tired.

‘Billy…’

‘It’s okay. I got you.’

And then, everything went black.

Next chapter

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #billy russo fanfic #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x y/n #billy russo x oc #the punisher #billy russo imagine #marvel #the punisher au #frank castle #billy russo could step on my back and i'd say thank you

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rafesangelita · 18 days ago

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₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW | FOUR

a pogue!sweetheart!reader series by rafesangelita ©

SUMMARY: making the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make in your life, rafe is heartbroken, driving himself to damn near insanity before he decides to do something he should’ve done months ago..

WARNINGS: heavy angst, rafe and ward argue (what else is new?), ward being a raging narcissist

LINKS: series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

one week. rafe hasn’t seen you, spoke to you, or heard your sweet voice for one whole week. seven, full length, twenty-four hour days.. and yes he’s keeping count. he got back to your place that evening, fully expecting you to be ready to grab dinner, but as soon as he drove up the gravel path, he felt the pit of his stomach drop. something was off. besides the fact that the light was off outside when you turned it on almost religiously at seven o’clock every single day, he also felt this weird sense of emptiness hit him in the chest. the air was too quiet, too still.

he was already calling your name before he went inside, his knees threatening to give out from under him when he rushed into your room and saw that most of your clothes were gone from the chest drawer by your bed. rafe continued to call for you while he nearly ransacked your camper, even going as far as checking the surrounding brush outside to make sure he wasn’t going crazy. after searching helplessly, he went back inside, his worst nightmare coming true when he saw a folded up paper on the kitchen table, along with a check that was torn in half, and the cell phone he bought you.

the first thing he did was pick up the check, his teeth gritting with anger when he saw ‘CAMERON DEVELOPMENT’ stamped in the corner. of course ward wouldn’t just give up on making him miserable. rafe felt his stomach turn when he saw the amount ward was willing to give away just to have you leave him alone. one hundred thousand dollars.. rafe couldn’t understand it. you didn’t take the money, but you still left? looking over at the other paper, he unfolded it with shaky hands, tears brimming his eyes when he saw your handwriting. this couldn’t be.

please know that i’m doing this because i love you, and i want you to have everything you’ve worked so hard for. i know you’ve dreamed about becoming the man of the house one day, and running and taking over the family business, and i just couldn’t live with myself if you didn’t get to have that because of me. your father has made it clear that i will never be part of your family, and for you, i know family means everything. writing this out right now is killing me. i’m sorry that i’m letting ward get what he wants, but i can’t be the reason why you’ll lose everything if i stay. i’ll be gone by the time you read this, so please don’t look for me.. i won’t be able to walk away from you again.

rafe sat there, rereading your letter as if to make sure it was real. he had so many questions but not enough headspace to think of the answers. despite what your letter said, rafe was back in his truck, flooring it to tanneyhill to cut himself off from cameron development. ward had another thing coming if he thought he could just dangle rafe’s livelihood over his head whenever he pleased. rafe felt like he wasn’t going to be able to relax until you were back in his arms again, his mind racing a million miles per minute just thinking about where you could be right now.

he wasn’t going to look for you until he had all of his shit sorted out, this whole thing with ward being at the top of his list. rafe was seething when he walked into ward’s study, his dad going over paperwork with his glasses low on his nose as if he didn’t just make the love of his life pack up and leave from her own camper. ward barely looked up when rafe slammed your note down on the hardwood of his desk. “read this, look what you did!” he shouted, feeling sick to his stomach as ward all but laughed at the piece of paper.

“this should be the least of your worries, rafe. she’s the one who showed her true colors today by leaving so easily. if i knew all it would take was some pocket change to get her to realize you two never stood a chance, i would’ve thrown that money at her a long time ago.” rafe couldn’t believe how mistaken ward was. the man who swore he knew everything, really knew nothing at all. “yeah? ‘you talking about this?” rafe pulled the torn check from his pocket, “she didn’t take the money, asshole. she left because you threatened to take everything away from me,” he was pacing back and forth now, his skin hot as he continued to yell, “you’re wrong about her and you know it!”

ward stared at the check in disbelief. why the fuck didn’t you take it?

there was a long pause of silence between the two of them, a knowing feeling falling over them both. “this doesn’t mean anything—” rafe was quick to cut him off; “no, you don’t think so?” he laughed, “she wasn’t looking for a handout then, and she isn’t looking for a handout now. this whole ‘all pogues are the same’ bullshit needs to stop. i’m gonna go look for her, and when i find her, there isn’t anything you can do about us being together, i guarantee that. cut me off, take me out of my co-ownership, i don’t want nothing to do with you.” ward shot up from his chair, rounding the side of his desk before fisting rafe’s shirt between his knuckles.

“what did you say?” rafe glared down at his father, seeing him for the man he truly was for the first time in his life. he stared in the eyes that were supposed to reflect his own, nothing but greed and hatred evident in those cerulean orbs. he’ll be damned if he let his father run his life and his own son see’s him with the same look one day. rafe decided right then and there that the vicious cycle of ego and pride would be ending with him. no more miserable generations, no more painful relationships. “i said cut me off. i don’t need your money, nor do i want it. everything you’ve ever threatened to take from me was never truly mine. everything except for y/n.”

pushing ward away with a shove to his chest, rafe was halfway out of ward’s study before his father shouted. “if you walk out that door, you could forget about ever coming back!” just then, wheezie walked in, her eyebrows knitted with worry. “this is all my fault, isn’t it?” her chin was wobbling as she stepped between the two of them. rafe was quick to pull her into a hug, shushing her as she cried. “no, this was bound to happen. look, keep my number, okay? just because me and this sick son of a bitch aren’t talking anymore, doesn’t mean me and you aren’t. i’ll call you everyday, alright?”

wheezie shook her head, clinging tighter to her older brother as ward went to pull her away. rafe made his way out of the room with tears rolling down his cheeks at the sound of wheezie yelling for him not to leave, his nostrils flaring with anger when he realized that ward was willing to let all of this happen, let others hurt all because he was too selfish to see a vision that wasn’t his own. walking away from him was ensuring that rafe would never be anything like him. rafe got in his truck and drove back to your camper where he would be staying at until he got you back.

not knowing where to start, or who to ask about your whereabouts, he spent the next seven days driving all over kildare island. he went to the icecream parlor where you worked and asked your boss if he had heard anything from you, or seen you at all, but he was just as concerned when rafe told him he was looking for you. he went to the country club and asked the bartender if he had seen you go in there recently trying to sell cookies or something, but to no avail, no one had any idea. it was like you disappeared into thin air. just as he was going to break down on the last day, he found himself in the port where the ferry ran their twenty-four hour service.

then.. it clicked.

you had to have left kildare altogether, the island simply wasn’t large enough to keep you two from seeing each other again. it’s the only thing that made sense. without a second thought, rafe parked on the ferry and waited until it finally started moving, quickly googling the cheapest and nearest motel on the mainland. sure enough, a bed and breakfast that was only two minutes away from the drop off station popped up. he needed you to be there, he needed to take you home already. the next fifteen minutes felt like it dragged on forever, his heart racing at the thought of finally seeing your face again, and getting confirmation that you were at least okay and safe.

once the ferry reached the check point, he sped off in the direction of the motel, his fingertips itching as he rushed over. when he got there, the parking lot was almost empty, only a few cars parked sparsely around the front. “please be here..” he whispered to himself, jumping out of the driver’s seat and making his way inside. the guy behind the counter sat there unbothered, his dull expression seemingly dragging the mood of the entire place down. it smelled like coffee, cigarettes and old paper. “can i help you?” without pulling his attention away from the outdated television in the corner, rafe nodded.

“uhm, yeah— look, i need to find out if someone i know is checked in here right now.” the guy shook his head, finally sparing rafe a glance. “i can’t tell you that information, my bad, man.” rafe’s fists clenched at his sides. “you don’t understand,” he leaned forward, “i’m this girl’s boyfriend, and i’m concerned about her whereabouts.” he explained. shrugging, the guy eyed the check-in sheet just within his arm’s reach. “again, that’s not my concern.” rafe felt his eye twitch, muttering a ‘fuck it.’ before grabbing the check-in book and going back to the last page.

the guy was about to get up and take the clipboard but rafe shot him a glare before he could make another move. skimming the pages until he landed on an entry date from exactly one week ago, his heart stopped for a second when he saw your name next to ‘ROOM # 22’. tossing the clipboard back on the desk, rafe ran out and looked for your room number on the outside of the countless rows of doors.

“nineteen, twenty, twenty-one.. twenty-two..”

he skipped multiple steps as he booked it up the stairs, eyes zeroing in on the room door that sat at the end of the walkway. rafe was breathless by the time he stood outside, his chest rising and falling as he knocked.

“y/n?!”

your eyes shot open. “y/n, are you in there?” rafe’s voice was loud and clear, your eyebrows knitting in confusion when you peeked out of the blinds. you couldn’t help the tears from forming in your eyes, your fingers scrambling to get the locks open. as if you couldn’t already believe that rafe was standing in front of you, you felt the world come to a standstill when he looked at you with an indescribable look on his face.

“rafe?”

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kitspindles · 3 years ago

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anyway time for a hot take that's probably been discussed a million times already but. essay time!!

I don't think that Will was meant to be Rick's solution for Nico's trauma-- the main solution as in, "Oh, he has a boyfriend now. Everything is all better, no more trauma, he's cured!" I don't think it's like that, though I can definitely understand how some people might see it that way. Putting aside the issue of whether or not their relationship was rushed for the moment... When someone is trying to heal from and process their trauma it sometimes helps to just have another person around to be there, to talk to, to have a friend in.

For a character like Nico, who spent seven books since his introduction (subsequentially four years) pushing away everyone, never opening up about himself, and feeling like he had nowhere to go, having a friend, a real friend, to fall back on is an integral step in overcoming his trauma. We saw this in his friendships with Jason and Reyna, where he was able to share important aspects of himself to them and come away feeling like a bit of the burden had been lifted, even for a moment-- or at the very least like he could speak to another person without scaring them away (tbh, Rick did Nico dirty with the way the majority of the Seven treated him, but that's a discussion for another time). Having someone close to confide in is something that Nico desperately needed but wouldn't allow himself to have-- something he hasn't really had since Bianca died. (Yes, Hazel came along eventually, but even then Nico kept quite a bit from her).

That's where Will is important. Again, yes, maybe Rick didn't need to push them together as boyfriends right off the bat (though they were arguably barely bfs in The Hidden Oracle, still in that "new relationship" phase, and by this point it had been about 6 months since they officially met in The Blood of Olympus, so I like to believe that they were friends first during that little time-skip between series), but regardless of the status of their relationship, Will is still immensely important to Nico taking that step in the right direction. He's one of Nico's first true best friends. They clearly care for each other and help one another.

Anyone who's read the Trials of Apollo fully knows that Nico's trauma is not gone just because he has a boyfriend. I mean, the poor guy has to sit near Mr. D, Dionysus, the god of madness, just to keep it together most days. It's literally stated that he has PTSD and waking dreams. Not even Will can make these problems go away, and he says as much himself. It hurts Will that he and Nico's other friends can't help him more, but that's just the reality of trauma and healing. Having someone to lean on certainly helps, but it isn't a magical cure, and I think Rick knows at least that much.

On that note, I have faith that the Solangelo book will tie up the loose ends of the relationship and answer the fandom's lingering questions and concerns-- how did they start dating, how are they actively working to help each other, more about Will's character and his own trauma (and gods know this boy has to have some), etc., etc. I think we're in for a good wrap-up since the book is co-written by Mark, who knows how to write about trauma and sexuality, and was brought in to help because Rick knew he couldn't do it on his own.

Anyway, all of this just to say: Will is the friend that Nico always needed, and regardless of the status of their relationship (friend or boyfriends), that's an important role for Nico's character to have in his life and a necessary step in healing from... everything.

#nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #pjo #pjo fandom #percy jackson and the olympians #the heroes of olympus #the trials of apollo #hoo #toa #rrverse #rick riordan #jason grace #reyna ramirez arellano #bianca di angelo #hazel levesque #my stuff

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transgenderteensurvivalguide · 4 years ago

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“Elliot Page doesn’t remember exactly how long he had been asking.

But he does remember the acute feeling of triumph when, around age 9, he was finally allowed to cut his hair short. “I felt like a boy,” Page says. “I wanted to be a boy. I would ask my mom if I could be someday.” Growing up in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Page visualized himself as a boy in imaginary games, freed from the discomfort of how other people saw him: as a girl. After the haircut, strangers finally started perceiving him the way he saw himself, and it felt both right and exciting.

The joy was short-lived. Months later, Page got his first break, landing a part as a daughter in a Canadian mining family in the TV movie Pit Pony. He wore a wig for the film, and when Pit Pony became a TV show, he grew his hair out again. “I became a professional actor at the age of 10,” Page says. And pursuing that passion came with a difficult compromise. “Of course I had to look a certain way.”

We are speaking in late February. It is the first interview Page, 34, has given since disclosing in December that he is transgender, in a heartfelt letter posted to Instagram, and he is crying before I have even uttered a question. “Sorry, I’m going to be emotional, but that’s cool, right?” he says, smiling through his tears.

It’s hard for him to talk about the days that led up to that disclosure. When I ask how he was feeling, he looks away, his neck exposed by a new short haircut. After a pause, he presses his hand to his heart and closes his eyes. “This feeling of true excitement and deep gratitude to have made it to this point in my life,” he says, “mixed with a lot of fear and anxiety.”

It’s not hard to understand why a trans person would be dealing with conflicting feelings in this moment. Increased social acceptance has led to more young people describing themselves as trans—1.8% of Gen Z compared with 0.2% of boomers, according to a recent Gallup poll—yet this has fueled conservatives who are stoking fears about a “transgender craze.” President Joe Biden has restored the right of transgender military members to serve openly, and in Hollywood, trans people have never had more meaningful time onscreen. Meanwhile, J.K. Rowling is leveraging her cultural capital to oppose transgender equality in the name of feminism, and lawmakers are arguing in the halls of Congress over the validity of gender identities. “Sex has become a political football in the culture wars,” says Chase Strangio, deputy director for transgender justice at the ACLU.

(Full article with photos continued under the “read more”)

And so Page—who charmed America as a precocious pregnant teenager in Juno, constructed dreamscapes in Inception and now stars in Netflix’s hit superhero show The Umbrella Academy, the third season of which he’s filming in Toronto—expected that his news would be met with both applause and vitriol. “What I was anticipating was a lot of support and love and a massive amount of hatred and transphobia,” says Page. “That’s essentially what happened.” What he did not anticipate was just how big this story would be. Page’s announcement, which made him one of the most famous out trans people in the world, started trending on Twitter in more than 20 countries. He gained more than 400,000 new followers on Instagram on that day alone. Thousands of articles were published. Likes and shares reached the millions. Right-wing podcasters readied their rhetoric about “women in men’s locker rooms.” Casting directors reached out to Page’s manager saying it would be an honor to cast Page in their next big movie.

So, it was a lot. Over the course of two conversations, Page will say that understanding himself in all the specifics remains a work in progress. Fathoming one’s gender, an identity innate and performed, personal and social, fixed and evolving, is complicated enough without being under a spotlight that never seems to turn off. But having arrived at a critical juncture, Page feels a deep sense of responsibility to share his truth. “Extremely influential people are spreading these myths and damaging rhetoric—every day you’re seeing our existence debated,” Page says. “Transgender people are so very real.”

That role in Pit Pony led to other productions and eventually, when Page was 16, to a film called Mouth to Mouth. Playing a young anarchist, Page had a chance to cut his hair again. This time, he shaved it off completely. The kids at his high school teased him, but in photos he has posted from that time on social media he looks at ease. Page’s head was still shaved when he mailed in an audition tape for the 2005 thriller Hard Candy. The people in charge of casting asked him to audition again in a wig. Soon, the hair was back.

Page’s tour de force performance in Hard Candy led, two years later, to Juno, a low-budget indie film that brought Page Oscar, BAFTA and Golden Globe nominations and sudden megafame. The actor, then 21, struggled with the stresses of that ascension. The endless primping, red carpets and magazine spreads were all agonizing reminders of the disconnect between how the world saw Page and who he knew himself to be. “I just never recognized myself,” Page says. “For a long time I could not even look at a photo of myself.” It was difficult to watch the movies too, especially ones in which he played more feminine roles.

Page loved making movies, but he also felt alienated by Hollywood and its standards. Alia Shawkat, a close friend and co-star in 2009’s Whip It,describes all the attention from Juno as scarring. “He had a really hard time with the press and expectations,” Shawkat says. “‘Put this on! And look this way! And this is sexy!’”

By the time he appeared in blockbusters like X-Men: The Last Stand and Inception, Page was suffering from depression, anxiety and panic attacks. He didn’t know, he says, “how to explain to people that even though [I was] an actor, just putting on a T-shirt cut for a woman would make me so unwell.” Shawkat recalls Page’s struggles with clothes. “I’d be like, ‘Hey, look at all these nice outfits you’re getting,’ and he would say, ‘It’s not me. It feels like a costume,’” she says. Page tried to convince himself that he was fine, that someone who was fortunate enough to have made it shouldn’t have complaints. But he felt exhausted by the work required to “just exist,” and thought more than once about quitting acting.

In 2014, Page came out as gay, despite feeling for years that “being out was impossible” given his career. (Gender identity and sexual orientation are, of course, distinct, but one queer identity can coexist with another.) In an emotional speech at a Human Rights Campaign conference, Page talked about being part of an industry “that places crushing standards” on actors and viewers alike. “There are pervasive stereotypes about masculinity and femininity that define how we’re all supposed to act, dress and speak,” Page went on. “And they serve no one.”

The actor started wearing suits on the red carpet. He found love, marrying choreographer Emma Portner in 2018. He asserted more agency in his career, producing his own films with LGBTQ leads like Freeheld and My Days of Mercy. And he made a masculine wardrobe a condition of taking roles. Yet the daily discord was becoming unbearable. “The difference in how I felt before coming out as gay to after was massive,” says Page. “But did the discomfort in my body ever go away? No, no, no, no.”

In part, it was the isolation forced by the pandemic that brought to a head Page’s wrestling with gender. (Page and Portner separated last summer, and the two divorced in early 2021. “We’ve remained close friends,” Page says.) “I had a lot of time on my own to really focus on things that I think, in so many ways, unconsciously, I was avoiding,” he says. He was inspired by trailblazing trans icons like Janet Mock and Laverne Cox, who found success in Hollywood while living authentically. Trans writers helped him understand his feelings; Page saw himself reflected in P. Carl’s memoir Becoming a Man. Eventually “shame and discomfort” gave way to revelation. “I was finally able to embrace being transgender,” Page says, “and letting myself fully become who I am.”

This led to a series of decisions. One was asking the world to call him by a different name, Elliot, which he says he’s always liked. Page has a tattoo that says E.P. PHONE HOME, a reference to a movie about a young boy with that name. “I loved E.T. when I was a kid and always wanted to look like the boys in the movies, right?” he says. The other decision was to use different pronouns—for the record, both he/him and they/them are fine. (When I ask if he has a preference on pronouns for the purposes of this story, Page says, “He/him is great.”)

A day before we first speak, Page will talk to his mom about this interview and she will tell him, “I’m just so proud of my son.” He grows emotional relating this and tries to explain that his mom, the daughter of a minister, who was born in the 1950s, was always trying to do what she thought was best for her child, even if that meant encouraging young Page to act like a girl. “She wants me to be who I am and supports me fully,” Page says. “It is a testament to how people really change.”

Another decision was to get top surgery. Page volunteers this information early in our conversation; at the time he posted his disclosure on Instagram, he was recovering in Toronto. Like many trans people, Page emphasizes being trans isn’t all about surgery. For some people, it’s unnecessary. For others, it’s unaffordable. For the wider world, the media’s focus on it has sensationalized transgender bodies, inviting invasive and inappropriate questions. But Page describes surgery as something that, for him, has made it possible to finally recognize himself when he looks in the mirror, providing catharsis he’s been waiting for since the “total hell” of puberty. “It has completely transformed my life,” he says. So much of his energy was spent on being uncomfortable in his body, he says. Now he has that energy back.

For the transgender community at large, visibility does not automatically lead to acceptance. Around the globe, transgender people deal disproportionately with violence and discrimination. Anti-trans hate crimes are on the rise in the U.K. along with increasingly transphobic rhetoric in newspapers and tabloids. In the U.S., in addition to the perennial challenges trans people face with issues like poverty and homelessness, a flurry of bills in state legislatures would make it a crime to provide transition-related medical care to trans youth. And crass old jokes are still in circulation. When Biden lifted the ban on open service for transgender troops, Saturday Night Live’s Michael Che did a bit on Weekend Update about the policy being called “don’t ask, don’t tuck.”

Page says coming out as trans was “selfish” on one level: “It’s for me. I want to live and be who I am.” But he also felt a moral imperative to do so, given the times. Human identity is complicated and mysterious, but politics insists on fitting everything into boxes. In today’s culture wars, simplistic beliefs about gender—e.g., chromosomes = destiny—are so widespread and so deep-seated that many people who hold those beliefs don’t feel compelled to consider whether they might be incomplete or prejudiced. On Feb. 24, after a passionate debate on legislation that would ban discrimination against LGBTQ people, Representative Marie Newman, an Illinois Democrat, proudly displayed the pride flag in support of her daughter, who is trans. Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene, a Georgia Republican, responded by hanging a poster outside her office that read: There are TWO genders: MALE & FEMALE.

The next day Dr. Rachel Levine, who stands to become the first openly transgender federal official confirmed by the Senate, endured a tirade from Senator Rand Paul about “genital mutilation” during her confirmation hearing. My second conversation with Page happens shortly after this. He brings it up almost immediately, and seems both heartbroken and determined. He wants to emphasize that top surgery, for him, was “not only life-changing but lifesaving.” He implores people to educate themselves about trans lives, to learn how crucial medical care can be, to understand that lack of access to it is one of the many reasons that an estimated 41% of transgender people have attempted suicide, according to one survey.

Page has been in the political trenches for a while, having leaned into progressive activism after coming out as queer in 2014. For two seasons, he and best friend Ian Daniel filmed Gaycation, a Viceland series that explored LGBTQ culture around the world and, at one point, showed Page grilling Senator Ted Cruz at the Iowa State Fair about discrimination against queer people. In 2019, Page made a documentary called There’s Something in the Water, which explores environmental hardships experienced by communities of color in Nova Scotia, with $350,000 of his own money. That activism extends to his own industry: in 2017, he published a Facebook post that, among other things, accused director Brett Ratner of forcibly outing him as gay on the set of an X-Men movie. (A representative for Ratner did not respond to a request for comment.)

As a trans person who is white, wealthy and famous, Page has a unique kind of privilege, and with it an opportunity to advocate for those with less. According to the U.S. Trans Survey, a large-scale report from 2015, transgender people of color are more likely to experience unemployment, harassment by police and refusals of medical care. Nearly half of all Black respondents reported being denied equal treatment, verbally harassed and/or physically attacked in the past year. Trans people as a group fare much worse on such stats than the general population. “My privilege has allowed me to have resources to get through and to be where I am today,” Page says, “and of course I want to use that privilege and platform to help in the ways I can.”

Since his disclosure, Page has been mostly quiet on social media. One exception has been to tweet on behalf of the ACLU, which is in the midst of fighting anti-trans bills and laws around the country, including those that ban transgender girls and women from participating in sports. Mississippi Governor Tate Reeves says he will sign such a bill in the name of “protect[ing] young girls.” Page played competitive soccer and vividly recalls the agony of being told he would have to play on the girls’ team once he aged out of mixed-gender squads. After an appeal, Page was allowed to play with the boys for an additional year. Today, several bills list genitalia as a requirement for deciding who plays on which team. “I would have been in that position as a kid,” Page says. “It’s horrific.”

All this advocacy is unlikely to make life easier. “You can’t enter into certain spaces as a public trans person,” says the ACLU’s Strangio, “without being prepared to spend some percentage of your life being threatened and harassed.” Yet, while he seems overwhelmed at times, Page is also eager. Many of the political attacks on trans people—whether it is a mandate that bathroom use be determined by birth sex, a blanket ban on medical interventions for trans kids or the suggestion that trans men are simply wayward women beguiled by male privilege—carry the same subtext: that trans people are mistaken about who they are. “We know who we are,” Page says. “People cling to these firm ideas [about gender] because it makes people feel safe. But if we could just celebrate all the wonderful complexities of people, the world would be such a better place.”

Even if Page weren’t vocal, his public presence would communicate something powerful. That is in part because of what Paisley Currah, a professor of political science at Brooklyn College, calls “visibility gaps.” Historically, trans women have been more visible, in culture and in Hollywood, than trans men. There are many explanations: Our culture is obsessed with femininity. Men’s bodies are less policed and scrutinized. Patriarchal people tend to get more emotional about who is considered to be in the same category as their daughters. “And a lot of trans men don’t stand out as trans,” says Currah, who is a trans man himself. “I think we’ve taken up less of the public’s attention because masculinity is sort of the norm.”

During our interviews, Page will repeatedly refer to himself as a “transgender guy.” He also calls himself nonbinary and queer, but for him, transmasculinity is at the center of the conversation right now. “It’s a complicated journey,” he says, “and an ongoing process.”

While the visibility gap means that trans men have been spared some of the hate endured by trans women, it has also meant that people like Page have had fewer models. “There were no examples,” Page says of growing up in Halifax in the 1990s. There are many queer people who have felt “that how they feel deep inside isn’t a real thing because they never saw it reflected back to them,” says Tiq Milan, an activist, author and transgender man. Page offers a reflection: “They can see that and say, ‘You know what, that’s who I am too,’” Milan says. When there aren’t examples, he says, “people make monsters of us.”

For decades, that was something Hollywood did. As detailed in the 2020 Netflix documentary Disclosure, transgender people have been portrayed onscreen as villainous and deceitful, tragic subplots or the butt of jokes. In a sign of just how far the industry has come—spurred on by productions like Pose and trailblazers like Mock—Netflix offered to change the credits on The Umbrella Academy the same day that its star posted his statement on social media. Now when an episode ends, the first words viewers see are “Elliot Page.”

Today, there are many out trans and nonbinary actors, directors and producers. Storylines involving trans people are more common, more respectful. Sometimes that aspect of identity is even incidental, rather than the crux of a morality tale. And yet Hollywood can still seem a frightening place for LGBTQ people to come out. “It’s an industry that says, ‘Don’t do that,’” says director Silas Howard, who got his break on Amazon’s show Transparent, which made efforts to hire transgender crew members. “I wouldn’t have been hired if they didn’t have a trans initiative,” Howard says. “I’m always aware of that.”

So what will it mean for Page’s career? While Page has appeared in many projects, he also faced challenges landing female leads because he didn’t fit Hollywood’s narrow mold. Since Page’s Instagram post, his team is seeing more activity than they have in years. Many of the offers coming in—to direct, to produce, to act—are trans-related, but there are also some “dude roles.”

Downtime in quarantine helped Page accept his gender identity. “I was finally able to embrace being transgender,” he says.

Page was attracted to the role of Vanya in The Umbrella Academy because—in the first season, released in 2019—Vanya is crushed by self-loathing, believing herself to be the only ordinary sibling in an extraordinary family. The character can barely summon the courage to move through the world. “I related to how much Vanya was closed off,” Page says. Now on set filming the third season, co-workers have seen a change in the actor. “It seems like there’s a tremendous weight off his shoulders, a feeling of comfort,” says showrunner Steve Blackman. “There’s a lightness, a lot more smiling.” For Page, returning to set has been validating, if awkward at times. Yes, people accidentally use the wrong pronouns—“It’s going to be an adjustment,” Page says—but co-workers also see and acknowledge him.

The debate over whether cisgender people, who have repeatedly collected awards for playing trans characters, should continue to do so has largely been settled. However, trans actors have rarely been considered for cisgender parts. Whatever challenges might lie ahead, Page seems exuberant about playing a new spectrum of roles. “I’m really excited to act, now that I’m fully who I am, in this body,” Page says. “No matter the challenges and difficult moments of this, nothing amounts to getting to feel how I feel now.”

This includes having short hair again. During our interview, Page keeps rearranging strands on his forehead. It took a long time for him to return to the barber’s chair and ask to cut it short, but he got there. And how did that haircut feel?

Page tears up again, then smiles. “I just could not have enjoyed it more,” he says.”

#suicide m #transphobia m #Elliot Page #transgender #representation #celebrities #actors #tv #movies #rep #trans #transmasculine #nonbinary #queer #long post

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clarasghosts · 2 years ago

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i am five episodes in now, so i feel ready to write a critical post, but it won't be too spoilery. wednesday has been an unfortunate disappointment. it's lacking all the humor and energy of the sitcom and 90s films (i haven't read the original comics), and seems to miss the point of them entirely. it really feels like the only addams family story tim burton has ever interacted with is addams family values, but that he also misunderstood the film entirely. wednesday in the 90s films is a fun character! she is not allergic to the concept of fun! while morticia and gomez are always incredibly kind and understanding, we saw wednesday in the films grow into someone more suspicious of others than her parents, which is a fine way to distinguish her character from theirs. in values, though, she is not being contrary for contrary's sake. wednesday doesn't hate that people are having a good time at the summer camp, her hatred of them is the film being critical of 90s conservatives and white suburban conformity. wednesday is the champion of the outcasts and the voice of reality.

what is wednesday the series being critical of? it claims patriarchy, but it's only critical of that in the vaguest, most ineffective sense. it fully feels like wednesday's declaration to never fall in love or marry is seen as a flaw in her that the show intends to fix, rather than a normal life experience for a lot of people (also, why is it that every teen girl story involves romance? are teen girls allowed to have other adventures?? starting to realize beetlejuice is burton's best work, actually). wednesday criticizes her mother for being a housewife, and while morticia being a housewife is a product of the time in which the character was invented, it also dismisses the fact that gomez is essentially a househusband. literally both gomez and morticia spend all their time at home pursuing the things they want to pursue. they are living the dream. morticia doesn't need a job; she spends the whole sitcom practicing different art forms. kind of like, you know, wednesday in the series wanting to be a writer.

if wednesday (both the character and the show) wanted to fight the patriarchy, why did she spend the entire first episode antagonizing every girl she came across, and only befriending boys? she straight up not-like-other-girls-ed herself. wednesday finding out that bianca is the queen bee, and then immediately making her the enemy is not subversive. it's clear that the show is developing bianca into a more complex character, which is good, but even that is not subversive. it's been done a million times. a more subversive (and addams world) tactic would have been for bianca to be a friendly queen bee, and for her and wednesday to quickly become friends. they're both matched in skill and intelligence, so it's awful how the show tries to pit them against each other. while it is good that the show does seem to want to maybe criticize that, nevermore is supposed to be a school of outcasts, is it not? so why is it being developed the exact same way as every other high school in american media? where's the flavor? why is this school itself not a fun subversion, with the town set up as its real-world reflection that it criticizes?

and again, if the show wanted to criticize the patriarchy, it could have taken a stronger stance against tyler getting upset that wednesday was 'sending him mixed signals'. no she wasn't! she was being friendly, like a normal person. a girl being friendly is not her inviting romantic advances, and it's incredibly entitled for tyler to get upset that she didn't ask him to the dance. but instead of the show pointing out how bullshit that is, it had thing apologize on wednesday's behalf. that's stupid at best, and dangerous at worst.

lastly, gomez and morticia. while both actors are decent choices for their roles, it feels like they forgot to do a chemistry test with them. but that aside, i don't know why the show wants to butcher their characters, especially morticia. gomez, at least, is fun, and the show acknowledges that he's a great father. but pitting wednesday against morticia? morticia has always been wholly supportive of her children's endeavors - i am trying to give the show the benefit of the doubt here, since wednesday is a teenager, and may be going through an awkward rebellious period (though what is she rebelling against, even? the whole family is a rebellious period). and they completely forgot to make morticia fun.

#wednesday #wednesday the series

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amateur-deductions · 3 years ago

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Micro Expressions

So I was thinking about what the next post should be about and I thought this would be a good topic to introduce again, especially since it's something you can start practicing right now if you want, so let's get to it

/I N T R O D U C T I O N

So what actually are micro expressions and how are they even remotely useful in deduction? well there are a few concepts needed to understand what they are, but very basically micro expressions are small, uncontrollable twitches that occur when someone experiences a less intense version of an emotion, or when one wants to hide their normal facial expressions, they correlate to certain emotions, and because of this one can learn to read them and interpret them by keeping the context in which they occur in mind, essentially (among other things) acting as a lie detection tool. But to fully use them and understand them we need to first discuss facial expressions

/F A C I A L E X P R E S S I O N S

Circa 1990 Dr. Paul Ekman conducted a series of studies that revealed a now generally accepted truth in psychology: emotions, and the physiological reactions they cause, are universal. This means that no matter where you go, and what people you interact with, be it a person from new york, from Egipt, or a member of a secluded tribe in the Amazon Rainforest, their physiological reactions caused by their feelings of joy, or anger, or disgust (to name a few) are always going to be the same, these ways of expressing said emotions are not learned, but rather a naturally acquired manifestation of them.

You may be wondering how all of this is relevant, but it's the foundation that allows micro expressions to be useful. You see, there are 7 basic emotions that we have inherent, universal facial expressions for, Happiness, Sadness, Anger, Fear, Contempt, Disgust, and Surprise, their facial expressions look like this:

(Cue the picture you've probably seen a million times if you know about this subject)

These are what we call, macro expressions, they are the obvious, "normal" facial expressions that are easy to spot and recognize, they last anywhere from half a second to 4 seconds. But here comes the important part: micro expressions come directly from macro expressions, basically, the only difference is the time they last and the context they're found in

/M I C R O E X P R E S S I O N S

One of the many neat things about facial expressions is that they are unconscious reactions to what we feel, this means if we try to hide them (which isn’t the only thing that causes them, but one of the most useful situations nonetheless), we generally do a pretty good job at doing so, but never a perfect one, which leads to small, almost imperceptible movements and twitches of our facial muscles to occur, movements that correlate with the facial expression of the emotion we're experiencing. Micro expressions are the same as macro expressions, but they last much, much less (hence the name "micro" expressions), and they can be the result of trying to hide our initial emotions in a given situation. They can last for half a second or less, and so they're almost impossible to detect for someone who doesn't have the necessary training

(I couldn't find any micro expression GIFs on Tumblr, but I did find this sherlock one, keep in mind it's slowed down, and you can still see a very quick, very faint movement of the lips upwards, faint crows feet and wrinkles around the eyes, and the cheeks moving slightly upwards, the closest thing I could find to a happiness micro expression. For a bunch of clearer, real life examples watch this video)

So what exactly is this training? Don't worry, it's not strenuous or anything, it just requires a bit of time. The training usually involves looking at clips or gifs of each micro expression and remembering which one corresponds to each emotion and then taking a small test where similar clips are played and you have to recognize each micro-expression. The point of this exercise is to train your ability to see micro expressions and recognize them in your everyday life, but as everything Deduction related, it takes time and quite a bit of practice.

Now, Paul Ekman himself offers training tools on his website if you don't mind spending money to get them, but if you're looking for economic alternatives to this there are plenty of apps, websites, and videos out there available in different regions of the world

/H O W T O U S E T H E M

Once you know how to spot and recognize these micro expressions you need to learn to apply them in context, knowing what someone's feeling in and of itself isn't useful if you can't relate it to what is going on around them. Keep in mind these emotions are displayed as micro expressions because the person in question is trying to hide them, so ask yourself why. Are they attempting to hide anger because they don't wanna hurt the person they're arguing with? or because they see who they're talking to as an authority figure and they're scared to show their anger? why are they flashing a disguised expression of fear when their significant other is visibly rageful? there's a lot you can know about a person by simply looking at the context in which they hide things.

One disclaimer that I think is important is that while micro expressions are an incredibly powerful tool, like everything in the realm of body language, and deduction in general, they should be taken as part of a cluster of signs that point towards a certain conclusion. Just because a micro expression shows surprise doesn't mean it's positive or negative, just because a micro expression shows fear doesn't mean it's fear towards a person and not a situation, or simply a thought, be mindful about what conclusions you reach because reaching the wrong ones can become a problem

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princessofprocrastination · 3 years ago

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Not The Same (GeorgeNotFound)

summary : you put out a song, but it attracted the wrong type of crowd and caused too many misunderstandings.

trigger warnings : threats (including death and doxing), panic attacks, taking of meds.

"you're THOSE type of fans, huh?" you read the comments on your newest song release.

and that was the start of your downfall.

you and your dad really enjoyed singing. at any opportunity you two got, you would be doing a duet.

whether that would be at at a close relative's wedding or your at home karaoke set up, you two knew how to entertain people.

though singing was your passion, you ended up being too busy with school and trying to graduate with a diploma to even think about singing again.

but you swore to make a career of your singing after high school. you just loved it too much.

but then, you didn't go to college for music, which pretty much shocked your parents and your friends since they knew your only passion in life was singing.

but you took a different direction. you still wanted to sing and you were trying your hardest to find a way to make that your career.

someday, anyway. but you needed to have a plan to fall back into in case anything goes wrong.

you were a realist, after all.

so off to college you went.

you spent long hours studying for tests after tests, sat through hours of lectures, did endless amounts of projects.

in the end, it was all worth the wait and fatigue. you graduated top of your class.

you went off to be an intern, clocked in more hours before you could fully go into the next phase of your life.

and after those long hours, you finally made the decision (with the support of your parents) to take a gap year.

but before anyone panics. your gap year was not all fun in games where you took to rest and lay in bed all day.

you took the gap year to see if the music industry fits you. to see if you even had the chance to succeed.

and if it did, you could finally have your dream job. but even if it didn't you were not going to be upset if you needed to fall back onto your backup plan.

in the duration of the gap year, you took voice lessons, and poetry classes for song writing.

and with whatever you have learnt, you took that into writing songs that you felt really relate to your life experiences.

so you spend at least a couple months writing multiple songs.

after almost 2 years, you finally came out with your first song. and it definitely got recognition. more than you thought you'd get, if you were being completely honest.

and that was what pushed you to sit your ass back on your desk to write more, and go into your makeshift studio and make the words into songs.

your parents were ecstatic to hear that you were finally doing the things you loved. and you knew you'd never get this far if it weren't for your family's support.

and so your music journey began.

it was going well for years. you were finally happy doing the one thing you enjoyed doing.

and you definitely think you were good at it. seeing and hearing the positive feedbacks from your family, friends and listeners.

you felt good.

but you lost that feeling when you came out with a new single, called ‘fan of you’.

you spent a while working hard on that song and you felt relieved when it was finally released. it was like a weight was lifted off your shoulders.

and you weren’t sure how one thing led to another, if you were being honest. at first, you received good feedback for your new songs. you even gained new listeners and your spotify rank rised.

but then it didn’t anymore.

your twitter flooded with mentions and your instagram full of tagged pictures and dms by accounts you’ve never heard of.

but you noticed a similarity with all of the spam. a guy name george. georgenotfound for short.

you being you, you looked into it. and that was when all of the information hit you. and all you had to look up was your name on twitter, and there it was, the longest thread of tweets you have ever seen in your life.

you took time to read it all, trying to make sure you didn’t miss anything crucial.

there must be an understanding. you didn’t know this guy name george. you’ve seen his face on pinterest once a while when you scrolled, yes. but you never looked into him.

this amazing person took their time to gather every bit of information there was about the scandal, which you were grateful for, or else you’d be scouring the internet for hours.

to summarise what you read, there was this artist by the name of tia jade who came out with a song a few months prior to yours called ‘just a fan.’

it was a good song, some say, and you could agree. it was professionally written and produced. but many fans of george found out that the song was about him.

not just about him, but about her falling in love with him, when she has never met him. and when his fans started to really listen and analyse the song, it got creepier.

basically, the song was about a fan falling in love with a celebrity/content creator and that they want to know them beyond their persona online.

but tia had apologised a little after the song came out, saying that she made that song based on a fan liking a content creator, and not about her falling for george.

but when you read enough of the issue, it definitely did seem like she was making that song to tell her story about falling for george. but she obviously needed an excuse to cover it up.

hence the apology.

and then you read about how they analysed your song, too.

they compared your song to tia’s and found it to have similar stories. stories about how a normal girl is falling in love with the man by the name of george, who had millions of followers on all social medias.

and if you admitted it to yourself, your song did seem to come out that way. especially if your mentality had been there. clearly your song could have been interpreted in many different ways.

you scrolled to the very bottom of the thread where there was a video of the man himself, george. he was addressing the issue.

“i don’t know how this happened twice. i thought once was weird enough, but.” he paused, focusing on building something on his screen.

“having heard of a song being about me again now makes my skin crawl.” he finished. it was short but enough to make his fans understand where he was coming from.

you scrolled further to see the replies of the thread. you wanted to know what were people saying about it.

and you definitely regretted your decision to do that.

threats everywhere. death threats, threats of beating you up, threats of doxing you. god the negative comments were drowned by the one’s that genuinely thought nothing wrong of your song.

you called you mom. this was the time you needed her advice. you needed to be told what to do. you didn’t want to accidentally trigger people.

you and her were on the phone for hours. she listened to you cried to her. she heard the painful sobs that came out of your mouth whenever you reminded yourself of what people were calling you on the internet.

she heard you cry silently on call when you saw your address and phone number being leaked on twitter.

but even through all of that, you joked around with your mom. “well, this was a hell of a way to be trending.”

you did what she told you to do. get a new phone number, stay in a hotel for a couple days while you try to settle the raging crowd of georgenotfound fans down.

in the span of a couple weeks, you got yourself a new number, a new house and a new car. you weren’t taking any chances.

you told no one besides your mom of the new changes, just to be safe.

and no, the threats did not cease. at all. these people did not have a life, constantly up in your dms, telling you to jump off a cliff or them hoping that a robber stabs you and leaves you dying.

you took your time trying to figure out a way to talk to george. or a way to speak out about this.

you didn’t want to write a half-assed notes app paragraph apologising when- first of all, you had nothing to apologise for and second, you had too much to say to fit it all in a notes app.

lucky for you, you didn’t need to start your own channel or make a sit down video on your own.

your recording label had brought up the idea of a documented series about you and how you became a singer about a year ago, and only started filming and posting the episodes a couple months prior on youtube.

so you took the series to your advantage. you pitched in the idea to your manager, to which she agreed to immediately, knowing that it was best you talked about it now.

this was how it played out on the perspective of viewers who watched that episode.

“bless you.” your producer says after you paused your singing in the mic as you stopped to sneeze.

you gave him a smile and a thumbs up from inside the booth.

the camera cuts to another clip.

the cameraman pans as they captured movers coming in and out of your old house, picking up your heavy furniture and boxes into large trucks to move into the new place.

it cuts again. this time it shows you scrolling on your phone with a focused face while your manager types something vigorously on her computer.

the camera tries to focus on your phone, and sees that you were on twitter, reading a lot of tweets under your name.

you exited the app and slide it away, going into youtube next, reading the comments on your song ‘fan of you’.

you scrolled far, clicking on some of the comments, trying to read the replies to certain comments you saw.

the camera cuts into a black screen. which then cuts again into a new scene, where you sat on your new kitchen counter talking to your mother, who sat on the chair in front of you.

your hair was up in a ponytail. a messy one. you were wearing sweatpants and a hoodie that seemed far too big on you, and your feet covered with fluffy socks.

you were nodding to whatever she was saying to you. it was clear your mind was elsewhere as your eyes were unfocused.

the scene cuts again.

you were seen on the couch, your legs were tucked into your arms and your head down, body shaking. it was obvious you were crying.

you were alone, your mother no where to be seen.

that was the first time the camera caught you crying.

the scene cuts as you were going to get up from the couch.

now, you were in the kitchen again, opening the refrigerator to take a water bottle, then walking to your room upstairs.

the camera follows behind you slowly into your room.

it hadn’t been the cleanest. there were a couple shirts on the floor, your bed undone, cups on your side table, your laptop open on your desk.

you were seen opening a drawer, taking out a small white bottle. you unscrewed the bottle and took out 2 pills, popping them in your mouth, drinking water straight away after that to swallow.

the scene cuts again.

this time, you were seated on the couch in the studio, the atmosphere dark and quiet.

your hair was more kept this time, being help up in a clip.

you were wearing straight jeans and a slightly oversized sweatshirt. you looked more refreshed this time. but it was obvious you hadn’t slept in a while because of your eyes.

your eyes that usually held a lot of happiness and joy turned dull.

“it’s been a while since i’ve spoken to a camera.” you offered a small smile. your song ‘just a fan’ was playing in the background of the clip.

the scene cuts again.

“when i released that song, i was genuinely proud of the work i had done.” you paused for a while. besides the song playing in the background, it was silent.

“but i guess the joy didn’t last very long.” the scene cuts there.

it transitioned to a collage of what people were saying about you. it showed clips of people talking about it on youtube. they even showed george talking about it.

and it cuts again.

it showed a different clip this time. a clip of your ex boyfriend and you at the beach on a picnic, that was taken by a close friend of yours.

this was when you were still in college.

it showed all the fun memories you two made while you were still together.

it showed a video of him studying in the library, flipping through his papers and scrolling through his laptop. it was clear he was hard at work, not noticing you filming him.

but then the scene cuts again. and the music turned somber.

your ex boyfriend’s grave.

it was the day you were visiting him. you sat down next to his stone, a blanket under you.

you were just staring at his stone, not moving.

and it cuts again.

“he was one of the most driven person i have ever met.” you told the camera.

“he knew when to be serious and when to have fun.” you looked down in your hands and played with your rings.

“all he ever talked about was becoming a surgeon. he worked hard in his intern years and continued being passionate through his residency.” you spoke up.

“people had only nice things to say about him. the only bad thing they would say about him is that he can be pretty uptight sometimes, especially when he was stressed about something.” you laughed a little.

“i was a huge fan of him, even when we just saw each other in the hallways. he’s just amazing. i’ve always wanted to be just like him.”

“i wanted to write a song about him but i didn’t the song to be sad.” you said.

“and that was when the song ‘fan of you’ was created.

the scene cuts there and goes into another.

you were in the recording booth again, this time, you were singing into the mic.

the camera pans to your producer and manager dancing and bobbing their heads to the beat.

the scene cuts, officially ending it with a black screen with ‘the end’ in a fancy white font.

you busied yourself with writing new songs as your name got trended again on twitter.

and george has never felt worse about himself ever in his entire life.

he watched the episode as soon as dream sent it to him.

“you’re an asshole, george.” dream sends to him, along with the link of the video on youtube.

as the video ends, he decides to read the comments, wondering what it was like down there.

it was the worse mistake he had ever made in a while.

but he knew he deserved it. he did assumed it was about him, just like the last song made with a drawing of his glasses as their cover photo on spotify.

this time, there was genuinely no reason to think that this song was about him, or anyone with a following whatsoever. he just believed what his chat told him.

sure, there were some familiarity of the character in your song and him, but the world did have 7.6 billion people living on it.

“so, here i am apologising.” george says to his camera, live. his tone was very sincere and apologetic.

“this shouldn’t have gotten this far. they shouldn’t have gotten threats at all, let alone death threats. they shouldn’t have woken up to the world knowing where they live and what their phone number is.”

“and if you’re watching. i sincerely apologise. i clearly was full of myself.” george finishes. ending the live with a small wave.

and were you watching? hell yes.

and that was the day the two of you followed each other on instagram.

he used your songs as his intros of his live, (with your permission, of course.) you showed in your documentary that you were watching whenever he was live or watching his youtube videos.

and that was the start to a beautiful relationship.

you sat on the chair, going live. you waved as people started joining. it went from hundreds, to thousands in seconds.

as you were talking and clicking on your keyboard and mouse, playing a game, you felt arms around your shoulders.

you smiled, yet continued playing.

“why are you live on my account?” he laughs.

you disconnected the headphones so that he could hear what you were hearing.

“george, you’re being replaced.” dream said on discord.

george smiles, giving you a kiss on the top of your head. “that was well deserved.”

#georgenotfound imagines #georgenotfound imagine #georgenotfound fanfic #georgenotfound x reader #georgenotfound

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syndxlla · 4 years ago

Text

Part Fourteen of the More to Love Series

Summary: The wedding is in a week, and you’re suddenly very aware of how little time you have left to figure out what to do. You decide to take matters into your own hands, and formulate a plan. Din invites you to a night of experience, and you admit a simple truth to him.

Word Count: 11.8k words, NO USE OF ‘y/n’

Warnings: SMUT (PiV, a little degradation, praise, creampie, cockwarming, dirty talk), use of alcohol, drunkness, mentions of scars, sexual harassment

Author’s note: HELLOOOO! this is a fun chapter, and i just wanna let y’all know that we are in the endgame now 😭. don’t worry, i still have so many plans for both the princess and din and just the whole world that MTL is set in. thank you for all the support on this story! it never ends and i will forever be thankful for your love!

Part thirteen

You were a fool for thinking the castle would start to settle down after the ball passed. Alternatively, the planning did not lessen, but instead shifted from masquerade prep to wedding prep. The decorations were taken out, and new samples were brought in. It was made very clear to you that this was really Korkie’s wedding and not your own, because every decision and plan that was made was done without your input.

It had been a few days since Din told you everything, and he truly told you everything. You had plenty of time to reflect on it, and process everything. You worked so hard to gain perspective on it, to try and give your future family the benefit of the doubt, and to understand the full situation. However, you ultimately sided with Din, your heart aching for the situation he was placed in. It had been apparent that he would not have told you any of that if he did not hold immense trust in his heart for you, and the word Ka’rta over grew into your thoughts for all these days. The both of you had agreed to tone things down, deciding it would be a fair middle ground. Less nightly endeavors would keep you two apart, and therefore less suspicious, but it especially made the reunions of passion more sweet.

Your mother was long gone, she left three days ago, and finally you felt that you had the palace to yourself again without Hugo and various other guests breathing down your neck. Your time as Corellian Princess was in it’s endgame now as your imminent marriage to Korkie was just on the horizon, and you still had no idea how to escape from it. Most of your days, you spent making up excuses for missing afternoon tea, and trying extra bites of potential wedding cake flavors in the kitchen. Regardless of what you did, however, Din was always there with you, three paces behind. You were also given the opportunity to dismiss him more often now. The eager infatuation with him has slowly become a steady understanding of feelings, and the two of you were able to fall into a groove without the anxiety of wondering how the other felt, and how long it would be until you reunited. Tradition and duty had lightened up as well, and there were less eyes on how Din was treating you, which gave you the liberty to give him back an ounce of his life.

This was one of the best things to ever happen to Din. You would retire to your room early every night, hoping no one would wonder if you were ill, and because you were away from the eye of Kryze, you could allow Din to leave the castle early. At seven, sometimes even six, he would go home to his son. It made everyone happy, and that is why it was important to happen. This was much preferred over a midnight dismissal. You also noticed a change in Din’s presence after this change was made. He was springier, chuckling more, even sitting down when the two of you were alone. He had finally relaxed around you, and you accredit to the pure fact that he was finally getting more rest.

Those were your favorite parts of the day: when you and Din would find a quiet corner in the library, or maybe an empty sitting room, and he would just tell you about the world. He had been everywhere, you were convinced. He went into detail of cities in Coruscant, explaining how they have extravagant silk markets and countless taverns with exotic drinks. He described the heat of the desert, and how he once had to search for a merchant’s missing camel in return for clean water, a story that led to one of the scars on his back and a very rational fear of the desert at night. His favorite place to tell you about, however, was his home. The Nevarro Frontier clearly had a special place in his heart, and he spoke fondly of it’s tall mountains and tight-knit communities.

“Nothing like the Mandalore you know.” He would sigh. A kingdom that may have been fantastic on the outside, but was riddled with war and political division and heartache on the inside. “Maybe I can take you there someday.”

It was those words that sparked your imagination, and the plan began to formulate.

The real dilemma you had been in all this time was trying to figure out how to live happily with a man you truly loved, but also protect your kingdom, home and family. It was a delicate situation, one with many sighs and frustrated nights. However, after Din explained his battle with Bo to you, it’s resolution was slowly becoming more clear. There had to be a way you could win in this story. You would not give hope on that truth.

When Din mentioned taking you to his home, you realized that there was very little keeping you from up and leaving Mandalore in the night. It would be a scandal, it would probably cause an all-out war, but it was worth a try, or at least a dream.

Now, when you had afternoon conversations with Din in the library, you were studying maps of the world. You familiarize yourself with the terrain of Mandalore, how long it might take to get to the Sundari Front, and drawing out escape routes on the backs. Din assumed you had thrown yourself into cartography so you could grasp his stories and adventures fully, which wasn’t altogether false, but it went deeper than that. You tried to keep it under control, but you were slowly becoming more and more consumed by your studies: a recurring issue in your life.

Din hadn’t realized you were becoming obsessed with the geography of the world until about a week after the ball, when you fell asleep by candlelight at a table in the library, your face smushed into the parchment of a map depicting some old blueprints that he had paid no attention to, and your hair falling over your eyes. It was almost dawn, and he had come back from his time with his son already, distressed to see no one had the courtesy to wake you up and take you to your room. He didn’t really expect much else from Mandalore, however.

Din blows out the candle, and gently picks you up, being extra careful not to wake you, and carries you bridal-style out of the library and to your suite. It was these moments that Din looked forward to the most. When he did not have to put on a face, when he did not have a million rules to follow. When your sleepy head rests into his chest, and he can look upon your face with his own eyes, no helmet to obstruct it.

As Din looked upon your resting face, there was much he realized. He first noticed that scar on your body that he hadn’t seen before, and swiped his thumb over it. He also studied the way your chest rose and fell with each breath, how you were perfectly still, and yet completely full of life and beauty and pure goodness as you slept. Din deeply admired how much you cared, how much you cared about everything. The wellbeing of the staff, the customs of Mandalore, him. You threw yourself into your passions, and you had a deep love for the hobbies and aspects of your life that no one else he knew possessed. You were a dedicated person, and he found both attraction and respect ino that.

Din also realized a fundamental truth at the very moment the sky began to lighten up, your cracked balcony doors letting the curtains blow into the suite dreamily. Din felt at peace. It had been so long since he felt peaceful. Too long. He felt the same type of peace here with you that he would normally feel sleeping under the stars with his son nestled to his side. Or the same feeling of peace that he felt when he held his son for the first time. It was a rare feeling, and it was pure. It was so rare that it was only saved for the people most important to him in his life.

You woke up a few hours later, changed out of the pale yellow gown you fell asleep in. Din had not only put you in your nightgown, but had taken the time to pull your hair so it was out of your face. He was more thoughtful than you could have ever imagined. The Knight sits with his back against your door, helmet tilted up at the ceiling, and you wonder if he slept, and why he was not in bed with you. You had invited him several times, and wished he would fulfill the request.

As soon as you sit up in bed, his head lifts, and he stands at attention.

You yawn before speaking, “Were you resting?” You ask, stretching your arms over your head. He shakes his head in response. “What were you doing?” You ask, your arms coming down to rest on your mattress.

“Listening?”

“For?”

He shrugs, “The birds at first, but then it was footsteps. I didn’t want to get caught waiting for you to wake up.” He sighs.

“Well… I wish you would have listened in bed with me.” You glance over at the empty spot next to you. He doesn’t respond, and you are reminded that in many ways, he is still the silent knight you first met from three weeks ago. Din walks over to you, and you smile as he does.

“Did I wake you last night?” He asks, and you were honestly confused about what he was asking. He sensed the confusion, he was always so good at reading you, “When I carried you from the library here?”

“What?” And then you remembered, your eyes blowing wide. “Shit!” You jump out of bed. “What time is it?”

“Uh…”

“Is the rest of the staff awake?” You let your hair down, and slide on the pink satin slippers on the floor of your bed.

“What?”

“Did you bring the map I was studying?” You look up at his emotionless helmet.

“…No?” To be truthful, he didn’t even take the time to glance at the map you studied, he was far too distracted by you.

“Fuck.” You muttered. Din liked it when you swore.

You thought of nothing, and hurried to the door of your suite, swinging it open and marching down the corridor. Din follows you in confusion, trying to catch up to you and bring you back to your room. You’re weary, and just woke up, so you pay no attention to Soniee who passes you in the hallway with your tea, looking at you in confusion, or the maids who were trying to sweep the floor that you scurried over. Din tried to halt you, but was never one to speak unless spoken to, especially not in public and in the presence of others, and felt unable to stop you and ask what was going on. Everyone turned heads to see the future consort in a panic, and were left with questions. Most of them shrugged and ignored it, a few began the rumors.

You practically ran down the stairs, feeling a little out of breath when you finally made it to the doors of the library. The fact that they were closed was still a good sign, and you swing the heavy door open, entering the library with haste. Your heart drops when you see the last person you wanted to this morning: Prince Korkie.

He turns to see the commotion, his eyes are shocked to not only see you out and about this early in the day, but also in your nightgown. He sputters on a ‘Good Morning’, and you don’t even hear it because you’re too panicked to see that he has the map you were reading last night in his hands. You swear in your mind, and your heart falls out of your feet. Din comes hurrying behind you.

“Princess? What is the meaning of this?” He asks, an eyebrow raised, trying to sound chipper as he greeted his fiance. You swallow thickly. Din bows for the prince, and then bends down to whisper in your ear so Korkie can’t hear it.

“Highness, please come back to your room.”

“What? Why?” You say a little too loudly, and before he can reply, the door is opening again with General Vizsla and a group of knights entering.

“Y-your gown.” Din whispers, and you look down to see that it is very sheer, far too sheer to be in the presence of your fiance… and half of the Mandalorian government. You want to shrink from the embarrassment, and notice that Korkie’s eyes are fixed on your chest. What a creep. You fold your arms over your breasts.

“What map do you have there, Prince Korkie?” You ask, trying not to make it seem too obvious that you were clearly in distress, but shaken up by your exposure and the perverted ness of the prince before you. Din wondered what in the world could be so important about that specific map. He stands behind you to cover your back side.

“What is this commotion?” Vizsla asks, interrupting your conversation.

“Nothing, General.” Korkie clears his throat. He turns to you, “Vizsla and I were just about to discuss the plans we have for… the southern border of Corellia.” Korkie awkwardly smiles. You raise an eyebrow.

“Plans?” You ask.

“Yes, you will hear in time.” Vizsla’s obnoxiously nasally voice busts in again. He was always one to unwelcomely invite himself.

You try not to roll your eyes, “And the map, Your Highness?” You repeat yourself, trying not to sound too demanding. You were still a princess, after all.

Korkie nervously chuckles, eyeing the multiple men in the room and shocked by your ambition. He takes a step forward, rolling the map up in his hands as he advances in you and Din’s direction. Din placed a discreet hand on the small of your back, hoping to reassure you. His touch was barely noticeable, but it was enough.

“Princess,” He says, sort of hushed. “You can call me Korkie in front of other people.” It was clear that he had an expectation to fill, and it would be bad on him if his fiance was still addressing him with a title a week before the wedding.

You scoff, “No, I don’t think I will.”

You hold your hand out for the map in defiance, but the prince doesn't hand it to you. He has a dark look in his eyes, one you have never seen before. Din tries to pull back on your bicep, trying to alleviate the situation, but you stay steadfast. “I will take that map now, Your highness.” You bite through the title, wanting it to cut. Korkie lifts his chin with an authoritative look, putting the rolled up map behind his back.

“Get this woman out of my meeting!” He calls out, and turns away. Your face drops, thinking you had the upper-hand, but realize that is taken away from you as two muscular guards pick you up, pulling you away from Din, and walking you out of the library. Korkie always does this, he’s madly in love with you until he’s not. It makes you remember that all of this is probably a ruse for power. Your heart and spirit drop, and you feel nothing but pure disrespect and rage. Din quickly follows. You try to writhe out of the guard’s grasp, not wanting to give up without a fight, but failing miserably. They were both very strong, probably because they had to compensate for how scrawny the Prince is.

“I can take it from here, gentlemen.” Din says, loudly, louder than you usually hear him speak. “I said I can take her!” Din yells when they don’t respond. Then, you hear the indefinite sound of a punch. These guards were still fully armored, but there was no withstanding the strength and brute force of your Knight when you were endangered. The guard Din had punched lets you go as a reaction, and you use it as an opportunity to take your now free hand and twist the wrist of the other guard off of you. All of the self-defense Din had previously taught you paid off in that moment as he yelled out in pain, not expecting your strength or skill. You were taught by the best, after all.

Now that you were free from the clutches of Korkie’s personal guards, you felt Din grab your hand and pull you. The two of you ran through the corridors, down another flight of stairs, and passed the throne room, making sure not to look back in the direction of the library. You ran parallel to the ballroom, and then finally down a final flight of stairs to the foyer of the castle. Din tugs you into a narrow hall, and down a spiral staircase. It was the way to the staff quarters, you remember from the day you went to the ocean. You were shocked and confused about what happened, and truthfully kind of exhausted. You were relieved when Din finally slowed down, and pulled you into Koska’s sister’s room. It was empty, thank the Stars.

“Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close them!” Din says and it startles you, but you do it. He pulls his helmet off with haste, tossing it to the floor with a clang. Din places both of his strong hands on either side of your face, pulling you towards him and then kisses you with so much force and hunger that you stumble back in surprise, your eyes cracking open for just a split second. You didn’t see much, because his face was so squished into yours. All you caught a glimpse of was his eyelashes for a millisecond, but that was enough. Din is pushing you against the wall, pinning you to it, and kissing you so hard that you have to pull away to get some air. “I don’t think I have ever been as attracted to you as I was when you stood up to that prick.” He chuckles, and you hum back. Din takes a deep breath before speaking up again, “What was on that map?” He asks, out of breath, too.

You sigh, sort of embarrassed, eyes still shut tightly, “It was the tunnel plans of the castle.”

“What, you mean the blueprints?”

“Yes.” Your eyes stay closed.

“The blueprints that are at least three-hundred years old?”

“Mhm.”

“How did you get your royal hands on those?” Din asks, baffled.

“It doesn’t matter! What does matter is that I made notes on the back of the map!” You blurt, feeling shame, “I wrote the estimated times it would take and which halls to take from my room!” You groan, so badly wanting to open your eyes. You remembered what you said to yourself all those weeks ago, however, reminding yourself that it should be his choice to show you his face and no one else’s. You sigh, “The Prince isn’t stupid! I’m sure he thinks I’m plotting something now!” You hope you don’t sound too panicked, but if you were being honest, you were. Din sighs, clearly frustrated, although you weren’t sure if he was sexually or emotionally… or a little bit of both. “I’m sorry.” You sigh, your hands coming up and searching for his shoulders. “I should not have been so careless.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” You weren’t expecting him to agree with you, he usually doesn’t. He takes a calming breath, “…Are you plotting something?” He asks, his eyes moving between your closed eyelids in search of a non-verbal answer that he’ll never receive.

You don’t want to answer, but know you don’t have a choice. “Yes.” You feel guilty after saying it, although you aren’t sure why. Din exhales deeply this time. “But listen! We could run! I don’t have to stay here! We can fix this! We can get into Coruscant and they’ll never come looking for us, and then we can go to Nevarro, go to your home! We’ll take your son-“

“Rue.”

“What?”

“My son, his name is Rue.”

Rue. It was simple, to the point, just like Din’s. You liked it. “We’ll take Rue! Please, Din, we need to! It will be the only way we will ever be happy!” Your thumbs rub into the thick skin of his neck. You didn’t mean to vomit so much information on him at once, but he didn’t really give you an option.

He exhales deeply, and you know he’s processing everything you just told him. “We can’t”

“Why not?”

“Because!” He yells and it scares you. You drop your hands, your heart rate rising. A lump grows in your throat and you silently curse your emotions for betraying you. You swallow back a tear. He walks away from you and you hear the helmet pick up from off the floor. He puts it back on his head, and you know from practice and instinct when to open your eyes. When you do, he’s sitting on the chest at the end of the bed, his head dropped and hands pressed to the edge of the wood by his sides. You frown, and walk over to him. Din pushes his head into your abdomen, and you hold him there, just existing in not-so-comfortable silence. It’s tense, and not the type of tension that you usually like to experience with I’m.

He’s surprisingly the one to speak up, however. “We can’t… because Bo will hunt me and kill me and Rue and you… she’ll kill everything I love.” His voice cracks at the same time your heart does. Did he actually…

“Not to mention the war between our kingdoms it will start. Corellia can’t support itself in a war. We both know that.” Din sighs, maybe he was telling himself this just as much as he was telling you.

You sigh. He was right and you knew it, but it didn’t keep you from wanting to run away with him any less. “Din…” He looks up at you. “We have to get that map from Korkie.” You say, more stern but still comforting this time. His head tilts in question. You sigh, feeling guilty. “I wrote something else on it.” You look away from him, your eyes trailing. His hand reaches up to grab your chin, pulling your head to look right at him. Your eyebrows furrow. “Directions to your home.” The atmosphere in the room changes. You can feel it. “I know I shouldn’t have, I know it puts Rue in danger, but it gives us all the more reason to get that map back from Korkie as soon as possible.” His hand drops from your chin. You felt terrible.

“Okay, okay. We can check the library again and… if it’s not there we’ll go confront him. We’ll get it tonight.” He nods.

“Are you sure? What if he reads it?” You were surprised how lax he was, but something told you that he was controlling himself from his true emotions.

“As far as I’m concerned, the Prince has no reason to cause me or my family any harm.” He nods.

“Not yet.”

—

You swallow, your face inches away from the door of the Prince’s bedroom. Din was around the corner of the corridor, both of you knew this was something you would have to do on your own, without his support. You had never been here before, and after ample search in the library for the map all afternoon, there was no other option. It was late, but not inappropriately late. You wore that same dress you wore weeks ago, the soft blue one that was off the shoulder one that adorned your figure elegantly. It was one of the most sophisticated gowns in your closet. More mature than most of the flowy princess ballgowns. It was a diplomatic but still ethereal fashion choice, which you desperately needed after a humiliating encounter this morning. The scar on your shoulder from the endeavor in Keldabe had mostly healed, and only had a pale pink to it. You looked back at Din, who was peering around the corner, for some reassurance. He nodded, and you took a deep breath. Two knocks would be enough. The door swings open, and you are suddenly very aware that you would have to brave this encounter without the support of your trusted Knight. Korkie is who answers the door, and he looks mildly unamused to see you.

“Princess?” He tilts his head.

“Evening, I hope it is not too late?” You suggest, keeping your voice as monotone and unwelcoming as possible. You wanted him to know that you were here for a serious matter.. You noticed he was covering the door with his body, perhaps he was hiding something from you too.

“For my fiance? Never.” You hated being called that, but if it was what it took for him to invite you into the room,you could deal with it. Korkie’s room was large, it was far more spacious than yours. It had a billowing fireplace and sitting area, the ceilings twice the height of your suite’s, and a private library pushed into the northeast corner. You familiarize yourself with your surroundings, and the heir closes the door behind you. You silently scanned the room for the map, you would have to snatch it up without it being suspicious, and you could not explicitly ask for it again. “What do I owe this honor?” He says from behind, charming as usual, although his words did seem a bit slurred. You see that an opened book sat on the seat of a chair in the sitting area. He must have been reading before you interrupted him. You turn around, and lift your chin, trying to look and sound as put together and unsuspecting as possible.

You clear your throat, “I wanted to apologize for this morning.” You nod. It wasn’t true, but you had rehearsed with Din several times the best way to stall time as you looked for the map, and this was the best way of going about. “It was inappropriate behavior, especially in front of the General.” You disagreed with your own words, and felt bad lying, but it came so naturally when done to the Prince.

Korkie sighs, and crosses over the room, looking up at a portrait above the fireplace. Your eyes still searched for your map, but had no clue where it might be. This was your first time here, after all. “Worry not, Highness.” Korkie downs a bit of brandy that was sitting for him. You didn’t like him when he was drunk.

“You’re sure?” You figured that would have made conversation more natural, but he clearly was not in the mood for propriety. He pours another drink, and even pours one for you, offering it. You shake your head and mutter a ‘no thank you’, not really wanting to get drunk tonight. Din wouldn’t touch you if you were drunk. You admired that he respected you that much, but it also deprived you of the one thing worth all the pomp and circumstance. Korkie shrugs and drinks both, and you’re frankly appalled by this conduct.

“Indeed.” He hiccups. “Everyone loves a little show.” He chuckles, and you frown. Was that all your humiliation was to him? A show? “Now, Princess,” He takes a step towards you, and you feel so unprotected. Din would have stepped in by now, you knew that. You didn’t have the same sense of security you usually had when he wasn’t at your side. “Why did you really come here?” He asks, running his hand through his hair.

“Excuse me?” You nervously laugh. How did he figure any of this out? You take steps back that mirror his, trying to keep the same amount of distance between him and you but struggling to when you hit the post of his bed, your back flush against it. Your hands wrap around the wood working, and you look up at him nervously. You felt the same as you didn’t when you were cornered and harassed in the slum of Keldabe. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You clear your throat, trying to solve something, anything. Where could that cursed map be?

“Don’t-“ He says through gritted teeth, he catches himself from lashing out, and collects his composure before speaking again. “Don’t assume I am blind.”

“I would never-“

“Liar!” He spits out and you flinch back. He laughs a few times, it’s that evil, frustrated laugh. It was the type of laugh that people do when they’re trying to calm themselves down, but in turn they simply seem more angry. You were genuinely scared, unsure of what to do in this situation. “What were the directions you wrote on the back of the map?” He asks, and you furrow your brows.

“I don’t know what you mean?” This was partially true. How did he not understand the very neat and clear directions on the back of the blueprints to the secret passages? And in all curiosity, why did he care?

Korkie grunts again. “You are foolish.” He was dangerously close to you, and you wanted to get out of that room as soon as possible. You wanted Din to come protect you, you needed him to. “Are you forgetting who you belong to?” His hand sets on your hip, and you flinch again.

“I belong to no one.” You defy.

“You belong to me.” He grits his jaw again. You closed your eyes out of instinct due to the sheer anger and tension in his tone. His breath smelled of alcohol, and you wished you had the authority to slap him. He laughs his chuckle of malice again, and then before you can blink, he leans in for a kiss. How could he? How could he take advantage of your vulnerable state like this? Your blood boiled, and just in time, you dodge his lips. You swoop under his arm, away from the bedpost and back to the security of a full room you can avoid him in. He looks at you, clearly appalled. You were dizzy, probably from adrenaline. You wished this was surprising, but it was the exact thing you expected The Prince to do. This is when you noticed the map was rolled up and on the floor beside the fireplace. The new perspective of the room is what made you see it. Had he intended to burn it?

“You know,” You say as you take a step towards the map, “You should have another drink.” You offer. “You’re clearly tense,” You stepped between each phrase, “And it would be better for everyone.” Somewhere deep down you wanted to believe that Korkie was only acting this way because he was drunk. But you knew it wasn’t true. You realized that everything inside of you was looking for a redeemable quality in him, a reason to stay perhaps. You wanted to believe he was worth staying for, but you knew that he wasn’t, not when everything you’ve ever wanted was just outside the door.

Before Korkie can take another step towards you, you’re bolting towards the map, snatching it up in your hands and then running towards the door. The adrenaline shoots through your veins, and it only grows when you hear him growl again and his heavy footsteps run after you. You have to physically hold yourself back from squealing in stress, your hand slapping over your mouth. You rip the door open, and try slamming it behind you, but Korkie’s arm is caught in the door, and you smash it. He cries out, and the commotion makes Din run down the hall towards you to check what was going on. Korkie was able to get a hand on the collar of your dress, and he tries to pull you back in, but your strength is enough to get away. You ran to Din, who looked concerned, you could tell by his stance alone. He was tense and his hands balled in fists at his side.

Korkie pulls open the door, holding his arm to his chest, and you look back, your heart racing. You are so relieved when you make it to Din, and you grab his hand, threading your fingers into his and pulling him down the hall in the same fashion he did early that day. Several guards who heard the heir’s yell were running in all directions, but none of them paid any attention to you, thank the stars.

You think you are crying, but you aren’t sure. You felt raw fear being alone with the Prince. You never wanted to be alone with him again, never.

You keep running nonsense in the castle, not really sure where you’re going but wanting to be anywhere other than there. Din is the one to stop you after the mindless escape, pulling you into a branching hallway and against an unsightly window. He grabs both of your arms, and pulls you flush against his chest. He holds you there for a long time, and you both get a chance to catch your breath. You cry into the beskar chestplate, and feel rather foolish for reacting as such. Din was silent, and just held you, his strong arms wrapped around you as tightly as they could be.

“What did he do to you?” He asks, and you sigh out pathetically. Din repeats his question, still calm and gentle, but more urgent.

“I-I was so scared.” You stutter. Din somehow squeezes you tighter after you say this. After you collect yourself a little more, you can speak again, “he was drink-“

“Did he… touch you?”

You weren’t sure why you felt like you were in trouble, but aggressively reminded yourself that Din would never be upset with you, at least not for something like this. “Yes… But not very much, he just touched my hip and leaned in to kiss me.”

“Did he?”

“No!” You say almost defensively, “I got away just in time.” You pull away and look up at him with teary eyes. His hand comes up, and he pulls the glove off. His bar hand caresses your flushed face, swiping a tear off your cheek with his thumb. “I’m sorry-“

“Why?”

“I don’t know!” You breathe out shakily. “For crying I guess? For letting the map get away? For letting him touch me-“ You try to look away but his fingers catch your chin again, pulling your gaze back onto his helmet.

“Stop that. It’s not your fault. He is disgusting for doing that.” Din nods, and you swallow a sob. “Do you understand?” He asks, and you slowly nod once. “And promise me, that you’ll never ever blame yourself for anything like that ever again, okay?” You nod again. “Promise me!” He wasn’t angry or forceful, just steadfast with his words. He meant what he was saying.

“I promise.” You mutter. After you reply you hear his exhale in his armor. He pulls you against his chest again, and you can feel it move with each breath. You wished you could hear his heartbeat again like you could when you wake up next to him. You’re able to finally relax, and his embrace was the most calming thing you had ever experienced.

“I was worried sick about you.” He says, far more soft spoken than his remarks before. You didn’t verbally reply, but he was able to read how you felt. “I don’t like you being alone with him.”

“Me neither.” You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut and letting the final few tears fall out of your lashes. “All the more reason to leave.” He tenses after you say it, and his arms loosen a bit around your shoulders.

“You really want to?” He asks, you nod against his chest. “You know the possible consequences? This could mean the destruction of Corellia.”

“I know. That’s why it’s so hard. I don’t know what to do. I know what I want, and that is to leave here with you, but I don’t want my own selfishness to risk the lives of thousands who I vowed to protect.” You pull your head away from his chest.

“You… really want to live a life with me?” He asks, almost oblivious to your prior remark. You nod nod, or even say yes, but you just look up at him in all seriousness, hoping it would be enough.

It was.

“You don’t even know what I look like.” His arms drop. Did he think you a fool for that?

“We…” You debate your words, “We can change that.” You close your eyes, hoping that it would mean something to him, and maybe it did, but just as always, he didn’t show it. He just takes his cursed, gloveless hand and tilts your chin up to see him.

“In time we will, but only when it is right.” He nods.

It wasn’t the answer you wanted, but it was enough. It was more than anything he had ever given you before.

“Come on,” Din says gently, “There’s something I want to show you.” He beckons with his head down the hall, and you follow, interlocking your fingers with his again, the map in your other hand. You weren’t really sure how he was able to be so calm and reassuring, especially without showing an ounce of emotion through all of it, but it was a Godsend. You weren’t sure if Din loved you, at least not in the same way you loved him, but you were sure that he cared about you, and he wanted you to be safe and happy. And that was all you needed, for now.

“Had he read the map?” Din asks as you walk down a flight of stairs, descending the various levels of the palace and undoubtedly heading for the staff quarters again.

“I believe so.” You sigh, “Although he seemed confused about it. I think he was a little too drunk to fully comprehend, or he was giving me the benefit of the doubt.” You shrug.

“Well, at least we have it now, right?” Din asks, his head slightly turning back to look at you as he says it, and you give a nervous but relieved smile in response. The two of you loop through halls, and you’re very aware of how much the castle is winding down. Staff have retired for the night, doors were closed, even the usual laughter coming from parlors or the ballroom was silenced. Was it really that late? You didn’t really have much of a perception of time anymore after everything that had just happened.

The one part of the castle that was full of life, however, was the staff quarters. As you got closer, you could hear the usual laughter, and warm, welcoming light poured from the low corridor. Music played, it was loud, and your eyes searched for the spectacle that was just awaiting you.

“You said you wanted to get to know the staff better…”

“I did?” You ask.

“A few nights ago, you were really tired, you might not remember.” He shrugged. You didn’t really care whether or not you really said those things, what stuck out to you, however was that Din remembered that. He was observant enough to remember specific phrases you said, and not any phrases, the ones that were sleepy and probably full of nonsense. You would lie if you said you didn’t gush over that a little.

Din takes you into the staff common room, and it’s all clear. The warm smells, the enticing light, the infectious laughter, it all came from the whole castle staff crammed into this one room. There was food, and everyone laughed and danced to the music that a handful of staff members played. Their instruments were humble, probably retired from the royal orchestra years ago, but you could tell there were fond memories and stories linked with every single one. It was hot, and there were a lot of people crammed into the room. The doors were wide open, and the tables were pushed back against the walls so that the floor could be opened to a large and intricate group dance. It was nothing like the pompous dances that the nobility did at the ball, however. This dance was filled with joy, and mistakes were not only welcomed, but celebrated. Expression was the center of the party, and all types of people were involved. Children who were up far past their bedtime joined in the festivities, dancing and laughing and chasing one another, elderly staff sat at the tables, clapping along to the folk music, and the servants who usually give you sour tea and hot bread had their shoes off, jumping on the stone floor of the common area. Some of the knights and guards had their helmets on like Din usually did, and others did not. You realized it really probably boiled down to personal preference, or duty.

You smiled at the spectacle, and it gave you a deep and undeniable sense of community and love. You quickly learned that the livelihood of the castle did not rest in the parties and rules that an uptight Queen set in place, but the very people who made the castle work smoothly.

The laughter and joy was contagious, and you couldn’t stop yourself from joining the fun. You jump into the dance, not sure of the steps, but picking up your ridiculous skirt and starting anyways. You hoped it wasn’t obvious that you had been crying a half hour before, but no one paid any attention if it was. The women in the circle linked their arms with yours, and you spun in a circle. The one to your right couldn’t have been older than fifteen, and she yelled over the noise how to do the footsteps. You couldn’t really hear her, but looked down at her feet and tried to mimic it. You had the cheesiest smile on your face, and the room spun as you danced. Din crosses over to a wall, leaning against it and crossing his arms, watching you.

After that dance finished, another song started, and the moves were rather different. However, a girl pulled you out of the circle, and tugged on your dress. “It’s too big!” She shouts over the music, “You’ll never make it through the next song!” You nod and then walk over to a table. You stand on top of the table after a few jumbled ‘excuse me’s’. You were sure everyone recognized you, but they didn’t treat you differently for one moment. It was… refreshing. You kicked your shoes off, and several people turned to look at you, some cheered, others laughed. You then bite your bottom lip and pull the strings of the corset you wore, loosening it enough to slip out of your crinoline and ruffled-slip, leaving you in nothing but your undergarment petticoat and the top layer of the gown you were wearing. There was laughter, and you didn’t hear or see Din chuckle. You swayed your hips, and after a playful “huzzah!” from the crowd, a few knights helped you off the table. You immediately return to the dance circle, and you’re able to move much easier. You’re thrown back into the stimulating dance. The woman was right, this was much more physical, jumping and kicking was done and it was far more exciting than any of the proper waltzes you had spent your life dedicating time to.

You step out after two more songs, trying to catch your breath and wiping the sweat off your brow. There was alcohol, just hooch, but a bearded man gave you a big mug and you happily chugged it down. Din was impressed with your ability to consume so much so quickly. The men all cheered and hollered as you downed the drink, also impressed with the skill. You didn’t know you could do it, either.

A game of cards is being played, and you’re roped into that, too. You bet some money (money you didn’t have) and helped a tired, old man who usually worked in the stables play, after a few tough rounds, and struggling to learn the rules as you played, you won the pot for the old man. Three other much younger boys who usually worked at the front gate looked in shock as you pulled the money towards you and the man. He laughed and thanked you for your help.

Some little girls examined your crinoline and corset, a few older women all pinched your cheeks, and a fat man gave you a huge helping of mashed potatoes and greens. You got to overeat shamelessly, and it felt so rewarding after weeks of eating like a bird in fear of being judged by your in-laws. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world to be treated normally. You caught a glimpse of Soniee, who braided a boy’s hair. You even noticed that Koska was there, the center of one of the dance circles, swaying her skirt to the beat with another girl, the two dancing together in a vibrant duet of culture and community. Your feet only began to hurt when you were pulled to dance again, and your cheeks ached from smiling so wide. It was the most alive and accepted you had ever felt in Mandalore.

At one point, you found yourself just a few feet away from Din in the dance. You hold your hands out for him, beckoning him to join. “Dance with me!” You shout out. Before you get an answer, however, you're pulled back into the center of the group. It isn’t for a few more cycles and bars of the song that you’re back out by him. “Please?” You try to be as enticing as possible. He shakes his head, his hand coming up to decline. You raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t dance!” He yells back. You roll your eyes and step out of the group momentarily. You grab both of his hands, your face with the cheesiest smile ever, and pull him onto the floor. He tries to fight back, but ultimately loses.

“Yes you do!” You reply, yelling as loud as possible so he might be able to hear you. “You proved it to me last week!” You say and in perfect time, your arms go up together with the beat of the song. He hadn’t done this dance before, but has watched it enough times to know what’s going on, although he looked rather awkward and foolish doing so. You grab his hand, your hips turning left to right in time, and you look down at your bodies, trying to show him as best as you can.

“I have no idea what’s going on!” Din yells at one point, the two of you now in the heart of the party.

“Me neither!” You laugh, “That’s what’s so wonderful about it!” Then came the part of the dance to clap your hands, the two of you clapping up by your face, and mirroring one another. “Now you’re getting the hang of it!” You nod. He rolls his eyes, and is thankful you can’t see it. It would be horrible for his reputation if anyone knew that he was having even a little fun, especially because it was with you. Din doesn’t usually come to these parties. They happen most Saturday nights, but he runs home to his son. Tonight, however, it was important to him that you got to experience it, especially after everything that happened earlier today.

You both start getting the hang of it, and Din mentally thanks his helmet for hiding the smile on his face. Your feet grapevine, and then you both jump. Everyone hoots and hollers, it’s part of the dance. Suddenly, the both of you are in the middle of the dance circle in the same way that Koska was with her partner a few songs ago, and you’re leading the spiral. You can’t wipe the darkish smile off your face and genuinely can’t believe you got him out here.

“Atta boy, Djarin!” Koska yells from a table, standing up and toasting a Ming of hooch. The music picked up in preparation for the big finish. Din and you spun around one another, your bodies coming flush until your palms press flat, your faces only inches apart. You always thought playing off of one another in a dance was important for the emotion during a waltz, but a fancy three-step had nothing on the emotion and passion put into a dance such as this. Somehow, you could still play off of him, and the performance was one of shared respect and assurance. Despite never having seen his face, you got the Knight, you understood him in a way no one ever did. The song ends, the two of you real close to one another, and out of breath. The entire room roared in joy as they cheered for the both of you, and you looked up at the visor of his helmet.

“I want to kiss you!” He yells, and although his request is very clear, no one can hear it over the volume of the room.

“Then kiss me!” You reply. You didn’t give a damn if every servant of the Mandalorian royal family saw it. He laughs, you feel it, and then he’s pulling his helmet up.

He just reveals his lips, but you look upon them with no shame, admiring the way his Cupid’s bow dipped, and the scruff on his jawline. You smiled wide, and he smiled back. You feel honored to share this moment with him. Everyone around you was so loud, and they were cheering for both you and Din. You couldn’t believe how many of them knew his name as they called it out in encouragement.

Din’s free hand wraps around your waist, and pulls it in tight to him forcefully, you blush at the gesture, and the crowd “ooh’s” flirtily at it. Din Djarin then kisses you. He pulls your body into his soft lips and you sigh into it and it;s too quiet for him to hear but as soon as your lips meet, the crowd of staff disappears. Their cheers blur together, and fade out. Your lips move together passionately, and you do so with no shame. He groans against you, and you can feel it more than you can hear it, and it’s all you ever wanted.

For weeks now you just wanted to share your love with him publicly, and now that you have, you’re aware of how personal your love with him really is.

The crowd fades back in, everyone laughing in support and amusement. Your lips softly party and you grin from ear to ear. Din does too, shameless for once. His teeth are nice and straight. Oh God, you loved his smile.

Oh Stars, you loved him.

“Din!” You yell out. “I love you!” It was time to say it, because it was true. You meant it and as you say it, giggle.

“What?”

“I love you!” It’s so loud that you’re even sure if he can’t hear it, you can barely hear it yourself. But, in classic Din Djarin fashion, he doesn’t answer. He was never good with words, and was much better at showing you what was on his mind. He kisses you again, just as passionately, but this time it’s a series of short, quick pecks on your lips that get progressively more sloppy. He smiles into each kiss and you feel those magic butterflies again.

The rest of the night is a dreamy blur, Din dances the whole time with you, the music eventually slows, you notice that there are less and less kids in the common room. It winds down, and your feet ache in the best way. An ache that would be associated with happy memories. It was long past midnight when you decided to stop dancing, and a lone fiddler is all who was left in the band, playing a ballad to end the night. There was still soft laughter, and a few stragglers who slowly danced to the music. Din was one of the few who were still playing cards, one of his fellow knights challenging him to a game. Din was always up for a challenge, and both he and the man he played against looked deep in thought. You realized you were finally able to read him through all that beskar, and he was far more reactive than you ever would have known if you weren’t looking for it. Your cheek sits in your palm, and your eyes are heavy, but you watch him fondly from across the room. Koska sits next to you, handing you a cup of water.

“You had fun.” She hums, taking a sip out of her own cup.

You nervously laugh in response, she wasn’t wrong. “I didn’t realize how connected you all were.” You say with a sigh before taking a sip of the water and being so relieved to finally get some hydration after all of the energy you exerted.

“Yeah…” Koska was in her typical undisturbed mood, relaxed and observant. “These are the people of Mandalore.” She sighs, “They are what we really represent. We aren’t all about war and decoration, there’s so much more to us that the world doesn’t see.” You were touched by that remark, because you had seen it too. “The truth that’s hard for all of us to believe is that the rest of the world only respects us to stay on our good side.” Her voice drops a little. She looks at you, her eyes heavy as always. You aren’t sure how to respond, because it was true. Koska takes another sip before changing the subject, “I’ve never seen him dance before.” She nods towards Din. “At least not like that.” She laughs into her cup.

You smile, “I didn’t think he had it in him.” You tease.

“He wouldn’t have if you weren’t there.” Koska shrugs. “He’s like a whole different person around you. It’s refreshing.”

“He told me about everything that happened.” You reply. “With him and Bo.”

“He did? I don’t think he’s really talked to anyone about it.”

“He just told me last week, after the ball.” You nod. “I had no idea… but it all makes sense in the end.” You finish off the last of your water as his card game finishes, the few people watching cheering as Din lays down his cards and wins. The other knight, whose face was also covered by a heavy, beskar helmet slammed his fist down on the table in defeat. Din took the money that was on the bet.

“He’s better because of you.” Koska says, smiling as he wins. “I’ve had to look out for him in a way for a long time, he’s one of my oldest friends.” She speaks of him fondly. “But I feel like he doesn’t need me as much anymore, now that you can keep an eye out for him.” Koska turns to look a t you, but you don’t notice it. “You love him?”

“I do.” You nod. “Well… I think I do.” You sigh, “I don’t really know what love is I suppose, but I believe how I feel about him is the closest thing to it.” You shrug. “And I’m totally fucked because of it.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Koska explains, “I’ve never been in love either.”

“Really?” You ask, mildly shocked in all honesty. Koska nods. “There’s no one special in your life?”

“Well, there’s one girl.” Koska begins, “But my feelings towards her are more of an… obligation, I suppose.”

“I used to worry that’s how Din felt about me.” You admit.

“Oh trust me,” She chuckles once, “It isn’t like that for him at all.” She hums and you sigh in response, you sit in comfortable silence for a moment after that before Koska speaks up again, “What are you gonna do?” She asks.

“I don’t know.” You admit, turning to look at her, “But now that the majority of the castle staff has seen us kiss, I need to think of something.”

“That was pretty stupid, by the way.” Koska rolls her eyes.

You chuckle, “I suppose it was…” Din starts walking back to you, “But I can’t seem to care. I’m sick of hiding from everyone.” Din makes it to the two of you, and you smile as you look up at him.

“It’s not much,” He holds out the money before pocketing it, “But Rue will be happy.” He laughs and holds a hand out for you to take. “How drunk is she?” He asks Koska.

“She’s fine-“

“I only had one drink!” You roll your eyes, knowing that your night with Din will end very quickly if you were drunk. You take his hand and he hoists you up with him.

“Hm… that’s what you said the other night.”

“She’s okay, maybe a little tipsy but nothing keeping her from holding a perfectly normal conversation.” Koska says to Din, knowing full well why he even asked, a smirk plasters on her face.

“Come on.” Din hums, and pulls you down one of the various halls that branch from the common room, but not the one that both of you were familiar with because of your aid from Koska.

Din leads you through the candle-lit halls, and into a small bedroom. It was cramped, and there was barely enough room for the both of you, but it was cozy. He lit an oil lamp, and it illuminated the room just enough. Din slowly pulls off his helmet, and it’s so dim that you can’t really see anything like normal, but you can make out faint features and the light in his eyes. It was enough. He started to take off his armor too, and you patiently waited with your back against the outerwall that the window was in. He sets the chestplate and pauldrons in a neat pile on the foot of the bed, and kicks his boots off. His arm comes up to rub his neck, and he stretches a few times. He pulls the chainmail up over his head, leaving him in the same peasant blouse and trousers that he wore at the beach all those days ago. You would never get used to how trim his waist was, and how broad his shoulders were. He turns around, and has a smile on his face. You wished you could see him in the light. Din runs his hands through his thick curls and then steps towards you. You close the gap and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for an innocent kiss.

“Thank you.” You mutter.

“What for?”

“For bringing me here tonight… for being with me.” You sigh, and look up at him lovingly. He sighs, and kisses you again. Din starts to deepen the kiss, and you moan into his lips. He was a good kisser, that was for sure.

[SMUT BEGINS HERE]

Din wastes no time, he picks you up by the thighs, lifting you on his waist so you’re kissing down into him, and before you know it, he’s kissing your jaw. Din had learned your body, he knew the sweet spot on your jaw, and always knew just how long he could suck on it before it became a hickey. He never crossed that line, he knew when to stop, but how badly you wanted him to mark you up so Korkie could see, you wanted everyone to see who you loved and why. His strong hands bunch up your skirt, and lift it up so your ass could be uncovered. His arms hold you, and he stumbles back until he falls on the bed in the room. You straddle the knight and get comfortable on his lap. You can feel his hard-on growing, and you’ll never get over the confidence boost that gives you. You start to tentatively rub your hips so that you grinned down into him. You get a sting of pleasure through your spine, and you’re already getting wet. Because you were down in the lower level of the palace, and was totally isolated from most people with thick, stone walls, you take advantage of the opportunity to make noise. You moan into Din’s mouth, and he holds his lips apart for you. His breath against your face was enough alone to drive you crazy, and your fingers twist around the strands of curly, brown hair that sit at the nape of his neck.

Din’s thick, calloused fingers find their way between your legs from the back, and he starts to gently run his fingertips through your slick folds. You gasp at the feeling, he was so gentle with every move. He starts to moan as well as your hips grind further into him in search for more friction and pleasure, and the sound of his voice unobstructed by the beskar is your favorite sound in the whole world. Din settles into his seat, and he pulls you forward onto him. This allows your hips to lift up just enough that he can insert a finger through your cunt. He starts pumping his wrist immediately, fingering you. You pulled your lips away from him, and sat up straight. You throw your head back with a moan, and then bring your hands to the tucked in portion of your shirt. You pull it up over your head, and wriggle out of the slip that kept you clothed. You were finally naked, and you took your free hands and squeezed each nipple. Between the feeling of Din’s fingers deep inside of you, his growing-bulge rutting against your clit, and the added pinch of your nipples, you were already in a euphoric bliss that didn’t take long to reach.

“Din-“ you moan his name, which he loved. He’s eager, and isn’t afraid to show it. Din pulls his cock out from his trousers, and he lets you grind against the tip. You keep it from going in, trying to tease him in the same way that he did the morning after the ball. It was really just driving you over the edge, really, and so before you let his swollen tip prod at your slickness anymore, you steady yourself on his broad shoulders, and take a deep breath before sinking down onto him. Both of you moan out when you do, and he throws his head back, exposing a thick cord of muscle in his neck. You bend down to nip at his adam’s apple before suckling into his tan skin, making sure to leave a massive, purple bruise on the middle of his neck. You bottom out as you do this, and the sensation shoots up your body. You liked being on top for the sheer fact that it gave you a different angle. Din’s length was pressing up into you now, and he filled you up delightfully. Your favorite feeling in the world was being stuffed by him like this.

You could feel every inch of him as you lifted your hips up, you were so wet and it was already such a loud, obscene noise. You kept sucking hickeys into him, and your hands moved from his neck down to the hem of his blouse. You grab the sheer fabric, and pull it up over his head so that Din is finally as shirtless as you. His huge hands stay on your ass, squeezing the fat there and using his own strength to lift you up and down on his cock. It’s slow at first, but it allows the both of you to really savor the feeling of one another. You scratch your fingernails down his pecs, scratching at his abdomen, and then finally trailing in between your legs to circle at your clit as the pace picked up. You lean forward to rest your glistening forehead on his bare shoulder, and your bare chests press into one another.

Din begins to thrust his hips up, and before you know it, you’re bounding on his cock. It’s fast and hard and your weight is slamming you down on to him over and over again with no end in sight. It’s painful in a good way, the same type of ache that would have good memories and passion attached to it. You knew your core would be sore tomorrow, but it was worth it as Din’s huge cock runs against your g-spot over and over again inside of you. Your fingers speed up on your clit, and you bite down on Din’s shoulder muscle to keep from being too loud. He’s grunting and growling and is absolutely feral and the noises eliciting off of his kiss-swollen lips are needy yet dominate at the same time. You could get drunk on his breathy-sighs, his voice as dark and husky as always.

“That’s it,” He groans into your ear, you moan in response to his words. You loved when he was vocal because it was so rare that he actually was. “Are you gonna cum on my fucking cock, Princess?” He asks.

“Mhm.” You pathetically moan.

“Fuck-“ he groans, and then shifts his position. Suddenly, the two of you are standing up, and the way his length moves and twitches inside of you as he stands up pulls an involuntary moan from your lips. Din lifts you up with his arms, arching his torso back so that you can lean on him. He then gets right back at the task at hand: chasing your orgasm. It was close, you could feel it, and somehow Din seemed to have more energy and strength in this position. He lifted you up and down on his cock, and your arms found their place wrapped back around his neck, desperately trying to hold yourself up as he absolutely tears into you. He was so big, you keep forgetting how thick he is until his swollen and hard cock is filling you up like you were only made for this exact thing.

He must have gotten tired, you could tell not only by the sheen layer of sweat on his chest, but he pulled you off of himself, and threw you onto the bed. You giggle at the forceful contact, and like being tossed around in bed. It made you feel small, and it really showed his strength. Din pumps his leaking cock a few times, kneeling in front of you and pulling your legs apart. You bite your lip out of lust before he slaps the head of his length on your cunt a few times. The sound is so dirty, and it makes you even wetter.

“Stars, you’re so fucking wet for me.” He bites his lip, slapping his cock harder against you. “Can you hear that? Can you hear how fucking wet that pussy is?” He asks you. Stars, he was good at this.

“Yes… so wet for you.” You sigh, your hand coming down to play with your clit again. Din mutters a ‘that’s right’ before he slides himself through your folds a few times again before pushing into you one more, and he doesn’t hold back. His hands find their way to your hips, and he presses them down into the bed as hard as he can, pinning you in place. He starts to pound into you, and it knocks the wind out of you because of how abrupt and forceful it is. You can’t even really make noise to show how good it was, and instead a few strangled and helpless cries pull from your throat.

“Do you fantasize about my cock when you’re with your fiance? Hm? Does it turn you on knowing that you’re cheating on him?” He asks, and you can finally moan out. He was right, he knew you would say yes.

“Yes!” You say, “I can’t stop thinking about your cock!” You reply, your voice high-pitched and so needy.

“Do you think about me fucking this pussy like a bitch on my cock when you’re in important meetings?” He asks again. There was something about the disrespect that you loved, it only made things better.

“Yes sir!” You cry. Din chuckles and then smacks your ass cheek. His slamming into you so hard that you can’t believe he hasn’t gotten tired yet. You can see how his muscles flex against the moonlight and your core is aching from the knight but it’s all worth it. “I’m gonna cum!” You warm, arching your back in pleasure. Din then spits on your cut, adding to the hot wetness and dirty sounds, and he pulls your fingers away from your clit and replaces them with his.

“Cum with me,” He groans, and almost immediately, you’re cumming on his leaking cock at the same time that he does. He cums so much, and you’re always surprised by it. His load drips down your folds, and he fucks you through it. It’s filthy and you want to keep doing it for the rest of your life. Your arms come up to grasp his biceps, trying to steady yourself on anything. Din moans loud when he cums, and it isn’t until he starts softening inside of you that he quits thrusting. He doesn’t pull out, however, and he stays stuffed inside of you as he catches your breath. You’re fucked-out, your eyes heavy and breasts heaving with each deep breath that tries to calm your heart rate. “I love cumming in you.” He sighs. You already knew that, but you loved how he told you. He goes to pull out, but your thighs squeeze together, holding him in place.

“Stay inside.” You whine. Din tilts his head.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He bends down to kiss your forehead, and then very carefully and slowly turns the two of you so that he is spooning you, his cock still buried inside your dripping and swollen cunt. “You did good, you did so good.” He kisses your neck as he says these, breathing in deep your scent. “S’good… so good.” He catches his breath, and is just as exhausted as you are, if not more. His chest heaves against your back, and his arms pull you against him. You fight against sleep, but ultimately fail, submitting to rest almost immediately after Din pulls the blanket over the both of you. Just before you fall asleep, you hear him mumble something against your neck, although you aren’t sure what it is.

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part fifteen

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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

Text

In Name Only - Part 18

A/N: Hello, my loves! I hope you enjoy this next little part of our story! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: language, period typical misogyny, description of violence, smut (18+ only)

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

The journey to Honeyholt was a solitary, quiet thing. It was almost too quiet and allotted for far too much time to think. The more you thought about it all, the more you realized how rash and impulsive your decision was. Oberyn would be furious; but he would understand, right? He had to - you were doing this to help avenge him. Admittedly, your plan wasn’t even fully formed at this point, half formed at best - all you knew was that you had to give your family a piece of your mind. You’d lived your whole life getting pushed around and left in the shadows, and you weren’t willing to do it any longer. Oberyn and the Martells - Dorne - were your family now, and you would be cold and in your own grave before you’d let something happen to them.

You weren’t exactly sure what you would do when you made your arrival back at your childhood home; that much you still had to figure out. Improvisation would have to be your friend, and you prayed to the gods, old and new, that you would be able to pull something off. Whatever that something was, you weren’t sure yet. But it would be something; the sins of your family would not go unpunished.

“Unbowed, unbent, unbroken,” you whispered to yourself as you slowly approached Honeyholt. You offered your mare a few gentle pets as she slowed her trotting; she made a small sound almost as if trying to convince you that your actions were foolish. Too bad you’d already known that, “I know, girl. But I have to do something, anything. Oberyn would do the same for me. He will understand - if not now, eventually he will.”

The soft, sweet scents of the region soon reached you as you took in a breath of fresh air. All the best of your childhood suddenly reached you, and you realized just how much you truly loved the Reach, especially Honeyholt. It was a beautiful, lush land, covered with lots of greenery and flowers and animals. Almost magical in some ways; so different from your current home, but that did not take away from the beauty of Dorne either. Two places that managed to be amazing in their own ways, coexisting in peace. Just like you hoped your families would.

But it was too late for that now. Your brother had made sure of that.

“This is as much for him as it is for me,” you explained quietly, almost as if you hoped she would speak back to you. Maybe it was the tiredness or delusion from traveling for the past two days on horseback by yourself. Maybe it was the need for reassurance that your actions weren’t completely off the mark. Maybe it was you trying to convince yourself that what you were doing was justified, “I have to protect him at any cost.”

As you approached the castle, one that looked so welcoming and warming if one didn’t know better, your stomach started to churn. There had been so many years of happiness here, when your father was alive and lord of the place, but it had quickly turned so much darker once he passed and power transferred to your brother. Maybe it wasn’t the place itself that provided happiness, but the people in it that made it a home. That’s what it was - it wasn’t the castle or Honeyholt that was home, it had been your father, and the other kind people that had lived there. Just like Dorne - sure, it was home, but it was Oberyn and the rest of the family that made it warm and inviting.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you heard soft, gentle buzzing in the distance. A tell-tale sign that you were in Honeyholt - the bees that the region was famous for were hard at work producing their delicious honey. You’d grown up with the sounds and smells, and in a way, it set your soul at ease. This was familiar - comfortable.

Once the path narrowed and you were within walking distance from the castle, you slowly slid off your mare and took her reins in hand, letting her walk next to your side. After so much riding, your legs felt like jelly, and you almost stumbled over your own feet. Petting her muzzle, you offered her a kiss to the side of her head as she followed you closely behind. The familiar sounds of people working around the castle reached your ears as you walked towards the main entrance. But before you could go further, you heard a familiar voice calling your name. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you realized that any chance for a quiet entrance was officially ruined. As soon as one person was aware of your presence, word spread around like a wildfire. There was no hiding anything in this type of circumstance; your whole family would know you were here.

Turning your around, your golden cape swirled behind you as you plastered on the best smile you could muster up. Sarvon approached you as he wiped off his hands on a rag he quickly tossed over his shoulder. A sense of regret ran through you; he was a few years older than you and had always been nothing kind - you’d always considered him a friend. He was handsome in a typical sense, tall and lanky, with a kind smile and fair hair and eyes, so different from what you were used to these days.

“Well, well, well, look who came back to see us all,” he held out his hand to you, which you eagerly shook you. If it was possible at all, a bit of your nerves seemed to settle down, “Lady Martell. How are you doing?”

“Sarvon,” you smiled fondly at him, “I’m...well. How are you faring? You look well - I trust everything is much the same?”

“Just the same as ever,” he agreed with a small smile, “but there are some good news - I am to be married within the year! You remember Yennefer? I’ve been courting her and she’s agreed to be my wife!”

“That is most exciting indeed,” you threw your arms around him, feeling a true sense of happiness. He had always been kind and gentle, and he deserved the happiness of a new marriage, “she’s a lovely woman, and I’m sure she’ll make a most wonderful wife. Someone to finally keep you in check!”

“That she will,” he agreed as a light flush rose up in his cheeks, “can I take her for and get her to the stables? What brings you back to Honeyholt, if I may ask?”

“Of course, and thank you,” you held out the reins to him, “I just...wanted to see my brothers, and my mother. I couldn’t stand being away from them for another moment.”

“I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you too,” he agreed, “it’s always a welcome surprise to see you. Dare I ask you if you come to bring us good news?”

“Oh,” your smile faltered for just a moment as you knew exactly what he was hinting at, “I’m afraid not. I suppose I just missed my family!”

“Of course,” he agreed, starting to lead your mare away, “I’ll announce your arrival. I believe Lord Beesbury is in his study.”

“Thank you, Sarvon,” you offered him a small nod, “you’ve been most helpful as always.”

Before he could say anything else, you turned and walked towards the entrance, walking in under the large stone arches. This was it; whatever plan you were going to concoct, you needed to come with it fast.

A few more people excitedly greeted you, surprised by your very sudden and unannounced arrival. It was still early in the morning, and you were positive you were positive that you looked as disheveled and tired as you felt. Deciding not to indulge any of them in conversation, you gave them curt nods, marching through your former home towards the study that had once been your father’s sanctuary. Even as you approached it now, it felt different; more cold and uninviting than it ever had. What was once filled with light and laughter was now quiet and daunting.

But nonetheless, you steeled your resolve and reminded yourself that you were a strong, independent woman, and that this was what you needed to do. The dagger strapped to your thigh suddenly felt like it was made of ice rather than steel, a million pounds heavy as it weighed you down.

When you reached the heavy doors, you didn’t even bother to knock or announce your presence, instead pushing them open and barging in. Your brother dropped the scrolls he was reading as he looked up in shock and awe at the sudden intrusion. His face seemed to shift through a hundred different emotions as he tried to figure out why you were possibly there. Eaton let out a long breath as he leaned back in his chair and a smirk grew on his face. You knew exactly why it was there; it was the same reason you were there.

“My dear, lovely sister,” his voice was laced with venom as you walked up to his bureau, already seething with anger, “what a surprise, although I can’t say it’s a pleasant one. I’m shocked to see your face again...I believe the last thing you said to me was ‘if I ever see you again, it will be on your deathbed.’ And yet...here you are.”

“You know why I’m here,” you spat at him, “you vile, foul, loathsome little cockroach.”

“There’s that attitude that we all love so very much,” he laughed lightly, but there was no happiness to it, “and look at you know. I see you’ve taken to Dorne well, dressing and acting just like those savages. Sending you there was the best decision we’ve ever made.”

“You dare to speak of my home - my people - in such a manner?” your eyes narrowed as you shook your head at him. He would never change, “you have some nerve for a pathetic excuse of a man that won’t even tend to his people and remains in his study all day. You are worth nothing, you are a shame and a disgrace to our father - our name. At least my husband - “

“Your husband,” he spat as you felt your blood pump, “yes, your weak, pathetic fool of a husband. I had the pleasure of meeting him as you well know. He’s about what you deserve, old, foolish, a whore of a man that will never love you. I’m sure things are going quite well - he can’t even get you with child from the looks of it. What a shame; it seemed to work for all his bastards. Perhaps it’s just you. How absolutely tragic - just what you always deserved-”

“Stop speaking,” your anger and gusto had quickly turned to a feeling of deep remorse, muddled with anger, “y-you have no clue what you speak of. You know nothing-”

“I did try to do you a favor, baby sister,” his lips were curled in a snarl as his wicked grin displayed his full teeth, just like a predator ready to take down his prey, “I did try to kill him. And I would have done it too, if it hadn't been for his little right hand man. He had to stop me just before I could finish him off. You know, part of me was glad he survived; I figured he would die a more slow and painful death at your hand. Imagine my disappointment when I heard that Prince Oberyn, the savage beast of Dorne, survived.”

“He barely survived,” your eyes were burning with the tears you were struggling to hold back, “he was on the verge of death - i-it took everything possible to keep alive, Eaton. I was never more scared...I thought I had lost him.”

“And you should have been happy.”

“I would rather die than to live a day without him,” you practically shouted at him, your voice crackling with each word, “he is my husband and I love him. He is everything to me!”

“Love? You are such a silly, pathetic little child,” his dark laughter reverberated off the stone walls, “you have learned nothing - you will never know anything. Life isn’t about love-”

“Yes,” you interrupted him, “love is everything. Father knew that too; it’s a shame you never learned that. I love Oberyn Martell, he is my husband, my family, my home. And I will never let you do anything to him, or any other part of my family.”

“They’re not your family-”

“They are more my family than you ever will be,” you insisted, “all Oberyn did was try to come here and make amends, to try to instill a sense of peace for everyone - for me. Because he loves me and cares about me. He held no ill intent for you, and still doesn’t - he wants to do nothing to you, despite what you had done to him. He just wants peace, and you couldn’t even give him that much.”

“You think he has your best interests in mind?” he scoffed, “he doesn’t care about you! He only wants to make himself look good. He will never love you - no one will ever love you!

"He loves me!"

"He doesn't love you!" you were both yelling at each other but by this point, "Waylar never did either. But look what you did to him, you caused his death and for what? Your feelings? And you almost did the same to your husband. You need to learn that love isn't a real thing and that in this game you survive and adapt or die."

"You are so hateful," you slowly reached for the dagger, ready to pull it out and wield it at him, "your heart has turned to stone. What a shame; we grew up with a lot of love from father but you never learned. I know it's real - not fake - and I will make sure everyone knows. I will make sure my husband knows how much I love him, my children, my family - everyone. I will never end up like you and I couldn't be more thankful than that."

"You will live and die a fool-"

"And you will die as a hateful, spiteful man," you pulled out the dagger and displayed it to him, watching as his eyes grew wide in worry. You had sneaked incredibly close to him and the dagger was mere inches from his throat. It would have been easy to end it all then and there, "you recognize this, don't you?"

"Where did you get that?" he swallowed and you could see his Adam's apple bobbing, "it belongs to me!"

“No,” you insisted with a wicked smile of your own, “it doesn’t. It’s mine, by rightful inheritance. Father gave it to me several years ago before he died.”

“It has belonged to every head of this family for centuries!”

“Until now,” you reminded him, letting the beautiful steel glint brilliantly in the morning light, “now it’s mine. And it stays with me - and I promise you one more thing, dear brother. This blade will be the last thing on your mind as I kill you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” his eyes were wide with worry as you kept the blade drawn and ready to strike at any second as you walked around the desk and stood in front of him. Pressing the blade into his flesh, you dug it in just enough to draw a thick trickle of blood, “you’re making a grave mistake.”

“Oh no, I’m not,” you insisted, making your voice sticky sweet with honey, “I’m not making a mistake at all. It’s not so funny when it’s the other way around, is it Lord Beesbury? Imagine how it felt for Oberyn as you stabbed him, as you inflicted would be deadly wounds. Don’t you think he felt the same way? And what did he do to you? Nothing. He didn’t deserve any of this. But you? You deserve this because you have done horrible things, Eaton. You don’t deserve compassion or mercy.”

“When they find what you’ve done, they’ll have you too flayed like the Boltons would.”

“Oh no,” you shook your head, “I won’t be caught for this. And even if it was discovered to be me, they would thank me.”

“You are a horrible, insistent bitch-”

“You almost took my husband from me - the one man that has loved me unconditionally. The man that would do anything for me - my family. I will be damned if I let you ever harm so much as a hair on his head. You will never harm him, my children, my family, any one I care about ever again. You’ve set up your own downfall, and I will be your executioner. You know the best part of all? I don’t regret a single thing.”

Slowly dragging the blade down the column of his throat, you let it stop just at his heart. It was so close, just within reach. All you had to do was plunge it into his chest and he would be dead. Just like he had wanted Oberyn to be.

So close, almost there...all you need to do was sink it into this flesh. You felt wild, almost like a mad woman - but everything you had been wanting was right in front of you.

Just a little further, a little harder and it would all be done...

"Stop!" the familiar voice pulled you out of your daze as your chest rose and fell in a hectic, chaotic pattern. Nothing made sense right now - only vengeance and redemption - blood, "don't do this. You will regret it every single day of your life. And I can't let you live like that."

The two of you turned and found Oberyn Martell standing in the doorway, looking at the two of you with the most neutral expression you had ever seen; a true and collected negotiator. Your surprise turned to shock as you stared at your husband. He wasn’t supposed to be here, he wasn’t supposed to know about this. The dagger shook in your hand for a moment as Eaton swallowed thickly.

“O-Oberyn,” you were between a rock and a hard place; you could easily have plunged the dagger and ended this, giving yourself a sense of satisfaction and vengeance. But if you did so, you would directly be going against Oberyn’s wishes. He didn’t want this but you did...you were almost positive of it. A strangled cry left your lips as you found yourself between a rock and a hard place, “you’re not supposed to be here!”

“And neither are you,” he took a few steps closer as he regarded the two of you curiously. He was very pointedly trying to keep the situation calm and diffused, “you don’t belong here, my love. This isn’t your home - come with me and we’ll go home. You don’t need to do this, he isn’t worth it.”

“Oberyn, he tried to kill you! He would have done it if he’d gotten the chance - he hoped you would die a slow painful death after you escaped. He loathes you, and for what?! You have done nothing but be kind and he’s a horrible, vile person! He doesn’t deserve my mercy or anything,” tears were running down your cheeks as you tried to rationalize everything to yourself, “what if he had taken you from me? I-I-I won’t let anything happen to you, ever, Oberyn. He deserves this!”

“That may be so, but you should not be his executioner,” he had come closer and closer until he was standing next to you, a hand tentatively wrapping around your wrist, “you do not deserve to live with such a thing on your conscience. Fate will be his undoing. Not you.”

“What if…”

“Don’t do this,” he insisted, as your brother looked around wildly, trying to figure out what was going on, but very aware that any wrong move, accidental or intended, would kill him, “you will never forgive yourself. Anything you would do to him would be too kind. But please, spare yourself the heartbreak and let him go. I’m right here, I’m okay - nothing will ever happen to me or take me from you. Not in this life or the next.”

“Oberyn,” his name was but a shaky whisper off your lips as you met his soft, brown eyes, “I-I just...I love you, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I love you, more than anything,” he slowly started to pull your wrist and dagger away from Eaton's throat, “that’s why I’m here - why I’m insisting you don’t do this. Please don't do this - for my sake and your sake. Just stop and come home with me. To our home - our family."

"Oberyn…"

"Come on, my Sunshine. Its not worth it. He is not worth a lifetime of regret," without even thinking about it, you let him pull your hand away as he carefully pulled the dagger out of your hand, "its okay, my love. It's okay."

Turning your attention away from Eaton's face, you looked at Oberyn and saw that he was just as emotional as you. He tucked the dagger into his waist belt before putting his hands on your face and wiping your tears away, "I-I'm sorry, my love. I thought...I thought this was the right thing to do."

"I know," he promised as he wrapped his arms around you and held you to his chest. He kissed the top of your head as you started to weep into his chest without abandon, "its okay."

Eaton watched the two of you with confusion on his face; whatever was going on, he knew he was safe for now. Clutching at his throat, he wiped away the blood that had oozed down his neck. A small sound of surprise escaped his lips at the burn.

"You," Oberyn turned to your brother with a look of disgust etched into his features, "you will say nothing of this to anyone, or I will personally finish what she started. You will never contact her again, and she will never contact you again. This is over - it ends now. And if I get even so much as a whiff of you in Dorne or anywhere near us, I will make sure you suffer. The Boltons aren’t the only ones who know how to flay a body. Do I make myself clear, boy?”

Eaton was so stunned, stunned into silence as he merely nodded at the Dornish Prince. Opening and closing his mouth a few times, he fell short of words and watched in silence as Oneryn took your hand and slowly led you out of the study. The young lord hissed slightly at the burning sensation on the delicate flesh of his throat. It had all seemed like a fever dream; but the scar that your actions had been sure to leave were most definitely a reality. He collapsed in his stiff wooden chair, a faux throne for a great pretender, and held his head in his hands. Maybe he should have reconsidered crossing the Red Viper - and you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Oberyn remained silent as he tightly clutched onto your hand and led you out of the castle. Only a few rushed words were said, but no one dared to approach either of you. If word of your arrival had gotten around, either no one cared enough to greet you, or they were all scared. But Oberyn was fast on his feet and had the two of you out of there before you could protest or make any sort of comment. Tears were liberally rolling down your cheeks in thick, fat droplets and splattering onto your gown and all the over the ground.

He must have gotten there in a rush and quickly put the pieces together as his steed was wildly saddled just outside the gates. You saw Sarvon rush over with your own mare, almost as if he had been roped into aiding the Prince. Silently, he took the reins to the small mare and helped you to climb onto her back before repeating the same to his stead.

Quietly thanking the young man for his assistance, he said nothing to you before reaching into the saddlebags and handing you a flask of water and some fruit. At least the man was smart enough to know you’d be starving and parched. You took them with quiet ease, too embarrassed and confounded to say anything.

He led the way in silence for some time, still checking to make sure you were closely following him. The tension settling between the two of you was thick and palpable; it wasn't angry per se, but it certainly wasn't good. A few times you had wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension, but found yourself unable. Instead, you remained silent and studied the back of Oberyn’s head to try and get a read on him. It didn’t work; the Prince was good at hiding his true feelings when he needed to.

“There’s a tavern a few miles ahead,” he said quietly after a long bout of silent; it had been morning you’d left Honeyholt and now dusk was starting to fall, “we’ll stay there for the evening and then continue on tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” was the only response you could muster up. He hadn’t even turned to look at you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The tavern was a small, quiet place, quaint and warm, and if you hadn’t been worried about the nerves churning out butterflies in your stomach, you would have been excited to rest there. Oberyn had handled business while you made your way to your temporary lodgings. As soon as you’d entered the room, a low sigh escaped your lips. Turning to the aged looking glass, you could see that you were an absolute sight to behold; hair wild and mussed, tired, bloodshot eyes, and ragged looking clothes. Luckily, there was a tub waiting with hot water in the adjoining room and you were halfway to slipping off your clothes when Oberyn came back into the room.

He offered you a nod of acknowledgment before sitting at the edge of the bed and watching you closely, his arms crossing over his broad chest.

“Go on,” he offered up, raising an eyebrow before looking between you and the wooden tub. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stripped the remainder of your clothes before sinking into the warm water and letting out a long sigh at the feel of the warm water against your skin. It was the most relief you’d left in days, “better?”

“Yes,” you admitted as you grabbed a cloth to start washing your tired body, "thank you.”

“I brought clean clothes,” he continued; his voice was so slow and neutral, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking, “and they will bring up some food. I presume you might be tired and hungry,”

“Mhmm,” his calm demeanor was almost more unnerving than anything else, and you wished he would yell at you. At least then you would know his true feelings.

It was silent for some time before anything happened as the two of you had just stared at one another. Oberyn ended up stripping off his own outer robe and remained only in his trousers as he washed his face in a small basin. Finding it impossible to complete even the simple task of washing your hair, you finally gave in and broke down, “Oberyn? Are you ever going to talk to me again?”

“I thought I had been.”

“You know what I mean,” you made swift work of washing the soap from your body before wringing your hair, “you’ve hardly said more than a few words to me. It isn’t like you.”

“What do you want me to say?” his hands found his hips as he looked at you in question, You were taken aback at his short, snappy response, but at least it was something other than complete emptiness.

“Say you’re angry with me, that you’ll never forgive me or...something.”

“Of course I’m angry,” he said as you reached for the towel as you stood up and wrapped it around your now clean form, “I am beyond livid - furious - do you have any clue as to what could have happened if I hadn’t shown up? Do you have any clue as to how worried sick I was? Every horrible, wicked thought possible went through my mind!”

“Will you ever forgive me?”

“It’s not up to me to forgive you...the question is whether you forgive yourself,” with a heavy sigh, he sat back on the bed and you timidly walked over to him, “you could have been hurt.”

“But I wasn’t…”

“Luckily - this time,” he cut you off sharply as your lips formed a thin line and you willed yourself not to argue back, “but it was still a huge risk - a very uncalculated risk! One wrong move and you could have been hurt, or worse - killed. And what good would that have been? It would have been for naught.”

“I had to do something! You were going to do nothing!” you insisted, unable to keep your silence. While your husband may have had valid points, you wanted him to know you felt just as strongly about your own views, “Oberyn, he is a foul, horrible person! He wanted to kill you, he hoped you would die, and the worst part of all was that he didn’t regret anything. He laughed about, made a mockery out of you and myself. He deserved everything he got and worse!”

“Would you have done it?” how he managed to keep calm was beyond you. He simply looked at you, his breathing even and his eyes full of curiosity as you stood in front of him, wildly flailing while wrapped up in your towel, “would you have killed him?”

“I...I…” his simple question felt like it had punched the air out of your lungs as you opened and closed your mouth a few times, “I would…”

“Do you really think you could have plunged that dagger into his heart, through skin and muscle and bone, and killed him? Do you think you could have watched the life leave his eyes as he took his last breath?”

“I…”

“Killing is not as simple as you think, you sweet, innocent girl. It takes a lot to end someone’s life,” he explained as you stared at your feet, feeling tears start to well up in your eyes, “it is not something to take lightly - I have never taken it likely. I have killed many men, but only those who have deserved it.”

“He deserved it.”

“That may be so, but it’s not up to you to decide that,” Oberyn let out a long sigh as he held out his hand to you, “you do not deserve to be left with such a thing on your conscience. You are much too good for something like that; do not let one man, however terrible he may be, take away your light. He will get what he deserves, everyone always does, and it will be much crueler than anything you could do. Leave him to fate, to the gods, to the universe. He is not a part of your life any longer - you will never have to see or speak to him again. He has built his own bed and he will reap what he sows. But you? You are too kind, too pure, too innocent for such darkness. You are of a different kind than he is; do not let him drag you down to his level for a few moments of the idea of vengeance. It will not be worth it. Never.”

“The things he said...they were horrible, my love,” you took his hand, and let him pull you towards him, so you were standing in front of him. Oberyn stroked the back of your hand, almost absentmindedly as you ran your free hand through his curls, “I have never heard such horrid, loathsome things before - against me, you, our family. He...he said you didn’t love me, that you would never love me. It was all a lie and that I was just meant to go to you and give you children.”

“You know absolutely none of that is true,” he insisted as you nodded, letting a few tears run down your cheeks, “and he knows he is wrong. He says these things because he is jealous, because he will never have them. He is cold as steel and has closed off his heart, and he will never love or learn to be loved. But that does not mean what we have isn’t real. I love you more than you will ever know. I will do whatever it takes to prove that to you, every day.”

“I know you do,” you whispered as he stood up and pulled you into his body, wiping away your tears, “I know what we have is real...it’s just...I don’t know. I was acting rashly, and I just couldn’t handle the idea of someone hurting you, hurting the one person I love the most, and getting away with it.”

“You will never lose me,” he whispered as he traced over your features, “it’s because of you I’m still alive; you stood by my side every minute of every hour for days. Without you, I don’t think I could have made it. You must know that I’m not the only one with the world to lose. When Asha told me of your plans, I thought I was going to lose everything, I was worried. Yes, I am mad - mad that you directly defied what I asked of you, you lied and sneaked out of Sunspear, you went completely and held a knife to a man’s throat.”

“When you put it like that…”

“Truthfully?’

“Yes, I suppose.”

“You are still so young, with so much to learn,” he put a finger to your lips before you could say anything else, “I will teach everything I can, you will learn, in time. But sometimes you must learn to trust others - me. I would never do anything to hold you back, or do anything that wasn’t in your best interest. You know that right?”

“I do,” you admitted, “I suppose I was so caught up with the idea that if I had to suffer, so did he…”

“What a world it would be if everyone thought like that, no?”

“Is that why you’re a Prince, my love? Because you’re so wise and smart?”

“Because I was born lucky. The rest I’ve learned over the years, as you will,” he put a finger under your chin and turned your face up to his, “it takes time, but you will get there, and I will be there every step of the way.”

“I love you,” was all you managed to whisper as you stared back into his eyes, “Oberyn.”

“I love you,” he repeated, “don’t ever do anything like this again, okay? Next time I might not be there, or things can go very differently. It’s not worth it.”

“I promise,” you agreed as he gently kissed your lips, “never again. I'm sorry I worried you, just...please don't ever leave me. I'm sorry."

"Its okay," he nodded at you, and you felt a warmth pool in your belly at the way he observed you - with reverence, devotion, and adoration, "I'm not going anywhere."

Unable to stop yourself, you brought a hand to the top of your towel where it was barely hanging on. Undoing the weak knot, you let it fall to the wooden floor with a delicate thought as you stared at him. Your whole body flushed under his intent gaze, but it was only mere seconds before he wrapped his arms around your waist, his touch warm and brazen on your bare skin.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you crashed your lips onto his, kissing him with a fervent intensity that he easily matched. There was nothing soft or gentle about this, it was a rushed tangle of tongue and teeth as you battled for dominance. But you were no match for Oberyn, a man experienced in life and love, as gripped the back of your neck and held you close to his lips.

Your hands went to the waistband of his trousers as you tried to rip them off as quickly as possible. You wanted and needed him now. His hands found yours as he helped you to undo the trousers and push them to the ground. Oberyn's lips barely left yours as he stepped out of them and he reached for you again. His hands found your bum as he gave it a firm squeeze and you moaned into his mouth. You could feel him smirking against your lips.

"Oberyn," his name was a reverent whisper off your lips as he kissed along your jaw and nipped at the delicate skin of your throat as he did his best to ensure that there would be marks for everyone to see, "please...need you."

"Mhmm," he backed you up against the wall, gently so you didn't hit your back or head too hard. Warm, calloused but gentle hands roamed your body as he touched over every part of you he could reach. His hands were on your breasts, massaging them and rolling your pert nipples as you tried not to completely lose it - not just yet.

You kissed every part of him you could reach, relishing in his soft, golden skin. He snaked hand between your bodies and down to your core, where he started to circle your clit after running his fingers through your soaked folds. It hadn't taken much to get ready for him today.

"All for me?" he rasped in your ear as all you could do was nod and bite on your lip to keep from crying out. He kept touching you, working you up and slowly inserting two fingers, expertly curling them and causing you to see stars. Burying your face into his shoulder, your legs started to feel weak and shaky as you almost reached your high. But before he went any further, he ceased all his ministrations and pulled his hand away.

"Oberyn!" you huffed at him as he bought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean. That was enough to silence you completely as you watched him in awe, "oh."

"Sweeter than the finest fruit," he smirked before taking his cock in his hand and stroking his length a few times, "my sweet girl, you drive me wild with worry and wonder sometimes."

"Only because I love you," you instinctively spread your legs slightly to make room for him. Lining himself up at your entrance, it was a few seconds before he was fully sheathed inside of you. You moaned at the feeling of him stretching you out so perfectly as he took the opportunity to kiss you.

He wasted no time in thrusting into you, slowly at first, but then quickly setting a brutal pace as he tightly gripped your hips. It was almost as though something inside him had snapped he needed you desperately. Soon, the room was filled with nothing but your combined moans, the lewd sounds of skin on skin, and your back lightly hitting the wall. You were almost positive that anyone near you would be able to hear but was going on but it didn't stop either of you.

Before too long, your walls started to clench around him as his cock twitched within you. Unable to form proper words, you came with a cry around him and he offered you a few more shallow thrusts before spilling inside of you.

He held you pinned against the wall for a few moments as you both came down from your highs. You pushed a stray curl from his forehead before he pressed a kiss to your lips.

"I love you," you offered up as a sort of all encompassing apology as you studied your husband's face.

"I know," he agreed as he touched your cheek, "I love you. Now, let's get some rest, Sunshine. We still have a lot to talk about later."

Maybe you'd made a rash and horrible decision; but at least you knew his love for you was truly unconditional.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x fem!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #in name only #ino

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mandoalorian · 4 years ago

Text

Borrowed Time [Din Djarin x F!Reader] SMUT

ੈ♡˳‧₊*: • Chapter 8: The Truth ✩࿐ ˚.✧

Summary: You are the princess of Mandalore, held hostage on your own planet by Moff Gideon and his army of Imperial troopers. Left with no choice, you send out a distress signal; a plea for protection— and who comes? None other than Din Djarin, a foundling of The Death Watch. He, by creed, is your sworn enemy. And where you have asked for his protection, he has been told by his mentor that he must marry you and gain the ability to restore Mandalore to its former glory.

Word Count: 2200>

Warnings: more angst and feelings! 18+ SMUT; unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it), f receiving oral, fingering… very soft sex andddd a praise kink because it’s Din’s first time giving oral :’)

AN: Please reblog to spread this around! It’s not showing up in tags! i think i’m still semi-shadow banned:(

Series Masterlist

Din didn’t say anything for a long time. He didn’t understand. Not the Manda’lor? How could that be possible? If you weren’t the Manda’lor, then... who were you? As if you were reading his thoughts, you closed your eyes and turned around so you were facing the brick wall behind you, and tried your very best to explain the truth. You had to at least make an attempt. You ignored the choked nervous knot in your throat. You couldn’t bear to look at him.

How could you ever even begin to explain this to him. You’d never spoken about what happened back on Mandalore to anyone. You’d kept it to yourself all this time. It was so painful. But you had to try.

“My mother was Duchess Satine Kryze, and I am, by technicality, the Princess of Mandalore. I always will be. When my mother died, fifteen years ago, I became heir to the throne. I became the Manda’lor, and... everything was fine. I had everything under control, and, dare I say, I was a good leader. Until one night, there was a planned attack by the Imperials on my city and they slaughtered everyone. They raided homes and killed children…” a single tear slipped down your cheek. “Moff Gideon came to see me. He wanted… the darksaber. So he had his troopers raid the palace and they found it. And once he wielded it, he became the rightful ruler of Mandalore. And, I still don’t have it back… I’ve-- I’ve never felt so helpless. And responsible for the murder of my people.”

You were crushed. You thought by admitting all of this, it would take the giant burden you’d been holding this entire time off your shoulders, but it didn’t. It only made you dread all the built up pain and anguish you had in your heart… for letting this happen and for lying to Din. You really had failed everyone around you, but most importantly, you’d failed yourself.

Bringing your hand to your wedding ring, you twiddled it around your finger and took a shaky exhale. “Din, I understand if you want nothing to do with me anymore. I can leave, and you’ll never see me again. I promise you that much. But I will get the darksaber back and I will be the rightful ruler of Mandalore. These were my people he killed. He stole it from me. And I won’t let the Imperial’s take anymore than they already have. Not without a fight.”

Compiling all the remaining bravery left in you, you turned back around to face Din and opened your eyes.

And your heart stopped.

His eyes were big and brown and sad. He had short, shaggy brown hair and a light stubble which grazed his jaw. His pink lips were parted slightly as he looked at you with his own eyes. No visor modifying his vision of you. This was raw, and completely him. He’d taken off his helmet.

You tried to ask him why, but no words came out.

“So that’s why the Imperials were chasing after you?” His jaw ticked but Maker, his voice without the helmet was as soft as silk. Rich and velvety.

He was handsome too. More handsome than you could’ve ever even imagined. In a rugged way, not in your typical Prince of Mandalore way. But you liked it a lot.

“Yes,” you swallowed thickly. “Moff Gideon imprisoned me in the palace and he never wanted me to leave. He made me promise to never tell anyone that he had the darksaber, because no doubt, any Mandalorian who found out the truth would venture after him to try and reclaim it for themselves. I was forced to live this lie. But I had to do something. That’s when I sent out the distress signal to coverts around the galaxy. That’s when you came for me, and helped me escape.”

Din tried his hardest to process your words. It… made sense. His gaze fell from your face and he looked down at the ground. He looked so sad and your heart ached. If there was a way you could fix this, you were pretty sure you’d do anything. In that very moment, you didn’t even care about the Mandalorian throne or the darksaber. You just cared about Din.

“Din, I’m so sorry.” you began, preparing to fully beg for his forgiveness, but before you could say anymore, his lips came crashing into yours.

He didn’t have anything to say to you, really. He was just so enamoured by you, that he didn’t care. You could lie to him a million times over and he’d forgive you, because you were just too perfect. You were, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And he loved you.

He should be mad, he knew that much. But he couldn’t bring himself to hate you when all he could think about was just how beautiful your lips were. The entire time you were talking, he was fighting the urge to kiss you. Until finally, he just couldn’t resist anymore.

His mouth was soft and fit perfectly against yours. Your eyes snapped shut and a surprised moan fell from your lips as he took you in his arms and held you. You loved the way it felt… his hands on your body and caressing your skin. Was this… the first time he’d kissed? He was so passionate yet gentle, and Maker, you didn’t want it to end. He was absolutely gorgeous, and such an amazing kisser. When you thought he was going to break away, you raised your hands to his face and cupped his cheeks, swiping your tongue over his lower lip and signalling for him to continue the kiss. He did so, and you opened your mouth, granting him deeper access.

A minute or so later, when the both of you were practically gasping for breath, he pulled off you and rested his forehead against yours. If he was unsure about his feelings before, he knew for certain now.

“We’ll have to leave at dawn,” Din said eventually, huffing and looking into your eyes. His hands were still planted firmly on your hips and he nudged his nose against yours. “There’ll be less Imps around, the earlier we leave.”

You were baffled. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“We’re getting the darksaber back,” he confirmed. “You’re getting the darksaber back. You are the rightful ruler of Mandalore.”

You couldn’t believe it. He still wanted to help you, even after admitting to him that you’d been lying. He no longer had a duty to protect you, and yet he was doing this not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

“Are you sure?” you gasped, completely exasperated. “Are you sure you still want to help me?”

Din nodded his head wordlessly before kissing you again. “We should rest before our escape tomorrow,” Din breathed. “I have a room here.”

“Take me.” you begged, curling your body into his.

Din’s room at the covert was no different to the many other rooms that were habited by other Mandalorians. It was a small boxy room with a bed in the corner. At least it was a real bed though, and not Din’s poor excuse for a bed back on the Crest. He closed the door behind him and turned on the light, although it wasn’t bright whatsoever. It barely illuminated the room in this dull, amber colour, but it was just enough to cast your shadows on the wall.

You gulped, not tearing your eyes from him once. “I think you’re very handsome,” you blurted out, smiling when you noticed a rosy blush cross Din’s cheeks. “And I think it’s a real shame that you have to hide your face. I just know that those brown eyes could charm you out of trouble.”

Din chuckled nervously. “I think you’re very pretty too,” he said. “But you probably hear that a lot.”

You shook your head, the smile never leaving your lips once. “No.”

When Din kissed you, it felt like heaven. As the moment became more and more heated, both of you ended up undressing, and discarding your clothing and his armour into a pile on the floor.

Din carefully laid you down on his bed and hovered over you, planting kisses down your neck, along your collarbones and down your chest. He brought his hand over to your breasts and began with giving them a few experimental squeezes. He brushed his thumb over your hardening nipple and pinched it, earning a moan of pleasure from you.

Not taking his lips from yours, he dropped his hand down your body and to the hem of your panties, dipping his finger under the waistband and feeling just how wet you’d already become. He chuckled to himself, his thick and deft index finger tracing quick and tight circles across your clit. You arched your back into him, a foggy haze crossing your vision as he worked you into a complete state of euphoria.

You chanted his name like it was a prayer, caressing his biceps and holding onto him. After he drew out your first orgasm, he tapped on your thigh. You lifted up your ass so he could pull down your panties and take them off completely. You were an absolute sight to behold, there was no denying that. Your folds were slick with your arousal and Din done everything he could to contain himself. Licking his lips, he knelt down between your legs and began to lap his tongue around your bundle of nerves, even sucking occasionally on your sweet spot.

“Does-- does that feel good?” Din asked, briefly pausing just before you were about to cum again. Your legs were shaking with pleasure and Din just wanted to make sure you were alright. “I’m-- I’ve never done this before.” he confessed.

“Oral?” you asked breathlessly, rolling your head into the pillow.

“Mhm,” he confirmed, nibbling and pressing lovebites into the soft flesh of your thighs. “Never took off my helmet.”

You moaned something incoherent when the curve of his nose rubbed against your clit and you felt the warmth of his breath fan over your core.

“It’s good Din, so good,” you sighed longingly. “You’re doing so good. Please don’t stop.”

So Din kept at it until eventually you were a heaving, quivering mess, and he drove out your second orgasm. When he pulled away from you, a trail of his saliva pulled between your wet cunt and his lips, but he immediately licked himself clean and leaned over your body so he could kiss you again. The way you could taste yourself on his mouth felt so erotic.

You pulled his hard and leaking cock from the confines of his underwear and began to pump at his length. He was hot and heavy, and somehow, he was even better than you had imagined. Even as you stroked him, you yearned for him, and you could feel your cunt clench around nothing as you wished for him to fuck you already.

Din loved how you were a needy, squirming mess beneath him. He positioned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed his engorged tip inside of you, taking a few moments to allow you to adjust to his length. The wet noises as he thrusted into you were lewd and obscenely loud, and if you were with anyone else you might’ve felt embarrassed -- but as Din built up his rhythm and held on to your hips, you couldn’t even think straight enough to feel embarrassed.

“Din,” you cried out, letting your fingers curl in his brown locks of hair. “Oh Din.”

His own hips began to stutter and with a loud gasp, you felt his cock convulse inside of you and a spurt of his creamy hot seed rope your walls.

Din let himself soften inside of you as he caught his breath, eventually rolling off you and laying by your side. He wrapped his arms around you and spooned you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear until eventually, you fell asleep in his arms.

“You will reclaim Mandalore,” he whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I promise.”

_________________________________________

Borrowed Time taglist in the replies!

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @xoxo-callie @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal l @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja200 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz @persie33 @sleepylunarwolf @martellthemandalor @pedro-pastel @steeevienicks @rrtxcmt @saphic-susperia @beskarprincessjenny @readsalot73 @softmedics @jade10077 @dodgerandevans @planetariumx @pascals-cat @ajeff855 @spideysimpossiblegirl @smoldjarin

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal x you

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years ago

Text

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter eight rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peters greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

“He’s such a dick!” Peter exclaimed, flopping on his bed with a huff. You laid down next to him and ran your fingers through his soft hair, feeling him relax immediately under your touch.

“What did Flash do today?” You sighed. This was a pretty common point of conversation between you and Peter. Flash always found a way under Peters skin and you were always the one to dig him out.

“He said I photoshopped our pictures together on Instagram. And he said you’d never even look at me, even if I was, and I quote, “waiting your table on your date with him”. He’s such a dick! You do look at me.” Peter protested. You sighed let out another sigh as you thought of an answer. You and Peter had been together for three glorious weeks and each of those weeks, Peter had Flash on his back about your relationship.

“Yes I do. And I love what I see.” You assured him. Peter smiled slightly, too angry to fully appreciate the compliment.

“He tells everyone I’m lying about us being together. I didn’t even tell people, Ned did. And when I said I was gonna take the day off of school to spend our one month anniversary together, he said it was probably just gonna be me alone in my room reading your articles and crying because you’d never give me the time of day.” Peter scoffed. “I wish he would believe me. I hate constantly having to defend our relationship.”

Not knowing what to tell him, you kissed his cheeks and rolled onto his chest. Your one month anniversary was just a week away and two planned on spending every second together to commemorate the event.

“Take my mind off of him, please.” He pouted as he dragged his pinkie down your nose. “What’s new in my beautiful girlfriends life?”

You two absentmindedly compared hand sizes before locking your fingers together.

“I have my final interview with Cletus next week. Then I really gotta finish my story.” You told him.

“You’ll get it done.” He said confidently. “You’re so efficient. When’s it due?”

“Three weeks.” You answered.

“You know what that means.” Peter said. You nodded.

“Balls to the walls.” You said at the same time he said “Pedal to the metal.”

You giggled and he laughed loudly.

“I like how I made a crude reference and you made one about flowers. It really highlights our personalities.” You pointed out. Peter cocked his head.

“Flowers?” He questioned.

“Yea. Petals. Petal to the medal.” You said. Peter burst out laughing, making the whole bed shake. He flipped you over so you were in your back now with him on top.

“Aw baby no.” He laughed. “It’s pedal to the metal, not petal to the metal. Why would you push petals against metal?”

“I don’t know. Why would you put your balls to the wall?” You shot back.

“I personally wouldn’t put my balls against any wall.” Peter said matter of factly. Him saying something so out of character made you snort with laughter. You immediately covered your mouth and burned red.

“That was the grossest sound. I’m so sorry.” You said with hands still covering your face.

“Don’t be sorry. I love all your sounds.” Peter said as he moved your hands to plant kisses on your face. He started with kisses on your cheeks and slowly moved down to your neck. This was new territory for the both of you so let out a soft giggle to show it was okay.

“I like that sound too.” Peter said as he perked his head up. You smiled fondly and it gave him the confidence to keep going. He placed more hot kisses down your neck and you let out another soft sound.

“I like that sound as well.” He laughed into your neck. His lips found their way under your ear in just the right place.

“Peter.” You breathed. He stopped and looked at you. His eyes were full of something you’d never seen before. Pure love and adoration for you. But it wasn’t the puppy love you were used to seeing with him. It was adult love. Committed love. You looked him deep in the eyes and nodded. Without saying a word, you both agreed to take the next step and solidify your love for each other.

That night, you and Peter laid awake and just stared each other. Neither of you said a word. Everything had already been said that night in his bed. You absentmindedly ran your fingers over his lips as he twirled your hair around his finger. You loved him. You wanted so badly to tell him. But Peter was a teenage boy. He just experienced his first time and you don’t want to overwhelm him with his first “I love you” as well. But from the way Peter was looking at you, you knew he knew how you felt.

“I want you to meet my boss.” Peter spoke suddenly with a dreamy smile on his face. “He’s my mentor and basically my father. He’s very important to me and so are you. I want us all to have dinner together. Let’s do it tomorrow night. He’s gonna love you.”

“I’d love to meet him.” You smiled. And you meant it. Peter barely gave any details about his internship. You didn’t even know his bosses name. You cuddled in closer to Peter and felt absolute happiness all throughout your body. He felt it too. Peter Parker was over the moon with joy. He had never been happier.

The next day after school, Peter practically ran down the steps to greet you. He was still on a high from the night before. You were running slightly late and Peter stood in your usually spot and waited for you.

“Whats wrong, Penis Parker? Did Iron Man forget to pick you up today?” Flash teased. Peter turned his back to him.

“No. If you must know, Y/n is picking me up. She’s just a little late.” Peter grumbled. Flash laughed tauntingly.

“Right, Y/n. Is she gonna pick you up on her unicorn and take you on a date at Avengers Tower?” Flash mocked. Peter just ignored him.

“I can’t blame you for pretending to date her though. She’s so hot. I’d like to take her out and show her a good time. Better than you ever could, Penis Parker.” He continued.

“She’s not hot Flash, she’s beautiful. She’s a girl, not a cup of tea.” Peter retorted. Flash’s cheeks heated up at Peters comeback.

“Whatever. I’d still bang her. Even if she was a cup of tea.” Flash scoffed Peters blood began to boil. He wanted to kill Flash for even thinking about you.

“Me too. That girl is straight up glorious. I’d let her do anything she wanted to me, I swear.” One on Flash’s idiot friends chimed in. Peter shot him the death glare. It was getting increasingly harder to stand there and listen to those idiots degrade you.

“You’re disgusting. Show some respect.” Peter said lowly. It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order. Little did Peter know, your super hearing allowed you to hear the whole conversation as you approached his school. An idea formed in your head.

A nice size crowd had gathered around Peter and Flash’s goons. Peter tapped his foot and waited for your arrival.

“Aw. Penis Parker wants us to show his imaginary girlfriend some respect.” Flash laughed. At that moment, you pulled up on your bike and swiftly took off your helmet. Shocked murmurs swept throughout the crowd. Most stunned of all was Flash, who looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his head. All eyes were on you. Peter noticed Flash’s reaction and smirked.

“Hi baby. I’m sorry I’m late. I’m having trouble getting around after last night.” You said apologetically and shot Peter a wink. You had practiced it in your head. Peters face broke out in an embarrassed smile as boys began to pat him on the back. A few even applauded.

“It’s alright, darling.” Peter said, stepping towards you. You smirked and gave him a big sloppy kiss. It was way more PDA than you were used to but you knew it’d give Peter enough street credit for the rest of college.

“Let’s go babe. Bye Flush.” You called and gave Flash a flirty little wave. If he was gonna call your boyfriend Penis, he was gonna get called Flush. Peter climbed on the back of your bike and you two sped away.

“Thanks for what you did back there. I hate how disgusting those guys are. I’m sorry they were objectifying you.” Peter apologized once you were back in his room.

“It’s alright. It happens.” You shrugged.

“But it shouldn’t. And did you see how they all acted when you kissed me? Like all the sudden I was cool because you were my girlfriend? Don’t get me wrong, you’re incredibly hot and I’m incredibly lucky to have you. But what they don’t understand is, there’s a million reasons why I’m lucky to have you.” Peter sighed angrily. “Your beauty doesn’t even crack the top ten. There’s so much to you. So much grandeur and depth and they just reduced you to a pretty face. It pisses me off.”

You smiled at his kind words and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck

“Peter, I don’t care what a single one of those bonehead boys had to say.” You shrugged. “I only care about you. Those boys at your school are just jealous that you actually have a brain in your head and a heart in your chest when they don’t. Don’t let them get to you. And thank you for all that you said. I really care about you, Peter.”

You wanted to tell him you loved him, but you chickened out. You had only ever said it to Andy.

“I really care about you too.” Peter smiled before kissing you. “Now come on, let’s work on your story.”

That night, you prepared to eat dinner at Peters bosses house. You wore a casual dress and did your hair in loose curls. You wanted to make a good impression on Peters mentor but you didn’t want to look like you were trying too hard. You took a cab, not wanting to ride your motorcycle and risk the helmet messing up either of your hair, to a wooden cabin near a lake. Peter knocked on the door and rubbed his hands together in excitement.

“Here we go.” He beamed at you.

The door opened and your body froze as your eyes landed on Tony Stark. The very Tony Stark who made you your suit. The very Tony Stark who knew you were Venom.

And apparently, the very Tony Stark who was your boyfriends boss.

Tony’s face fell when he looked at you and you felt sick to your stomach. Tony felt it to. He glanced from you, to Peter, to your interlocked hands, then back at you. Your eyes whispered an apology and looked equally as apologetic. He was sorry for how badly this would end when all the secrets were out.

“Come on in, kids. Dinners almost ready.” Tony said suddenly. Peter grinned at you and lead you inside. You faked a smile before giving Tony one last look.

Dinner went as awkwardly as you could imagine. You and Tony couldn’t keep your eyes off of each other. Peter was too excited about his two favorite people meeting to notice the tension in the air.

“Y/n is an investigative reporter.” Peter gushed in between bites.

“Is she?” Tony said, never looking away from you. You felt terrified by his stare.

“She took down Carlton Drake and soon she’s gonna take down Cletus Kasady.” Peter continued with a proud smile. He put his hand on your knee under the table and squeezed.

“Oh really?” Tony’s expression was unreadable. “How did you do it?”

You gulped. He knew exactly how you did it. You had told him the story the day you met.

“I just followed my instincts and didn’t let up until the truth was out.” You stammered. Tony nodded stiffly.

“Right. Y/n, will you join me in the lab? I got something that might help your story.” Tony announced. You felt fear run through your body, all the way to your scalp. You nodded and got up. Your legs were shaking and you prayed Peter didn’t notice.

“I’ll come.” Peter said, moving to stand up. Tony immediately turned around and held up a hand.

“You stay here, kid.” He kept a calm tone. “I just want a quick word with your girlfriend.” Peter sat back down with a smile on his face at the sound of someone referring to you as his girlfriend.

Once in the safety of the lab, you let out the breath you had been holding in all night. You looked anxiously at Tony, waiting for him to speak. He had his back to you, and was still deciding what to say.

“Does he know?” Tony asked suddenly. You shook your head even though Tony couldn’t see you.

“No, sir.” Your voice shook. “I haven’t told him.”

“Do you know about him?” Tony asked, turning to face you. Your face contorted in confusion.

“Do I know what about him?” You questioned. That’s when Tony’s face fell. He realized the extent of the situation. You and Peter were in love and Spider-Man and Venom were enemies. And neither of you knew the other’s secret identity. Tony’s heart broke for the young couple. He knew how much Peter loved you. He also knew how fragile Peter was. Tony wondered if the shock would hurt less if he made the teenagers confront each other sooner rather than later.

“Nothing.” He said quickly. “Here’s what I need from you, tell him the truth.”

You opened your mouth to protest but he held up his hand.

“I don’t want to hear it, Hannah Montana. You need to tell Peter about Venom, or I will. End of discussion.” Tony said sternly.

“But-“

“What did I say? End of discussion.” He repeated.

“But he’ll hate me.” You said sadly. Tony looked at you empathically, knowing you didn’t even know how bad it was.

“He’ll hate you more if you wait to tell him. You have to rip the bandaid off. And who knows, maybe he has secrets of his own.” Tony tried to hint to you. You stared at the floor, not wanting to go back to the dinning room to Peter. You wanted to avoid him, and the conversation, as long as you could.

“You don’t understand, Mr. Stark.” Your voice wavered. “The second I tell him, he’ll leave me. I’m not ready to lose him, I just got him.”

You didn’t want to cry in front of a man you idealized but your heart was breaking.

“You don’t know for sure that you’ll lose him. You need to tell him. Now. You know where he is.” Tony ordered. You could feel yourself beginning to cry no matter how hard you tried to fight it. It was that terrible feeling of needing to cry but feeling too embarrassed to.

“Don’t do that. I don’t want a crying teenage girl on my hands.” Tony said in response to your watering eyes.

“But I love him.” You whimpered. “I love him and I don’t want to lose him.”

Tony’s attention snapped to you. You had never seen Tony Stark at a loss for words before.

“You love him?” He asked. You nodded.

“With all my heart.” You said weakly.

“Have you ever told him that?” Tony asked.

“No.” You said shyly. It was an awkward thing to talk about with a man you barely knew.

Tony looked angry for a moment, then disheartened.

“This is going to crush him.” He muttered.

“I never wanted to hurt him, Mr. Stark. Please believe that. But no matter how much I wish for things to be different, they can’t be. This is who I am. I am…we are Venom. That won’t change.”

“You’ve already hurt him and you don’t even know it.” Tony sighed. You didn’t really understand what he meant.

“I know lying to him is bad.” You admitted. “But would it really be better if he knew? He’d just be afraid of me. I can’t have that.”

“You can’t have a relationship with someone who doesn’t really know you, either.” Tony reasoned

“I know. And I’ll tell him.” You promised. “Just, not yet. I can’t lose him just yet.”

Tony looked at you for a long time and sighed.

“Fine. I’ll give you one week. If you don’t tell him by then, I will.” Tony said firmly. You nodded sadly.

“Okay.” You wiped a tear that had managed to fall. “I’ll tell him.”

“You better. Now let’s go back in there and give him the best night of his life. He deserves that much.” Tony said and you agreed.

You two went back out and ate dessert with Peter. You did your best to enjoy and decide of it, knowing your time with Peter was almost up.

Peter enjoyed his evening to the fullest extent and never suspected a thing. You’d sneak glances at Tony every now and then and he was always staring back.

“I had the best time. Thank you Mr. Stark.” Peter said as you two got ready to leave.

“Yes, thank you Mr. Stark. It was a pleasure to meet you.” You shook Tony’s hand. He shook yours back firmly, both of you knowing you had already met.

“Anytime. And Y/n, good luck. I’m rooting for you.” Tony said honestly. You gave him a thankful nod.

“Good luck with what?” Peter asked.

“My story.” You answered quickly. “On Cleatus.”

You ushered Peter out the door and gave Tony one last look. He nodded at you and held up one finger. You gulped.

This was going to be the worst week of your life.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x venom!reader #venom!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #iron man #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction

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