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flowerandblood · 1 year ago

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The Man with the Bloody Sword

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, bloody sex, fingering, profanation, smut, angst, violence, beheading, trauma, mourning ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his ‘ghosts’, a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, very dark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

Series & Characters Moodboard Lady Walford Moodboard Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He remembered little of the moment of their nuptials and coronation itself, hearing only the loud thumping of his heart, a host of doubts running through his mind. He had waited so many years for this moment that he decided it couldn't be real, that something had to happen to shatter it all.

He thought that her younger brother would not bend the knee, that he would have to kill him and then she would hate him, that he would have to take her as his wife by force and watch her wither and fade before his eyes for the rest of his days.

He could not describe the relief he felt when he heard the loud words from outside the temple of young Lord Walford announcing that he was relinquishing his claim to the crown, only to see his sister a moment later in the gown he had gifted her, red and black, the colours of his house.

He lifted his chin higher, looking at her with a kind of pride − she looked beautiful and dignified, not a trace of fear or doubt on her face. She was looking only at him − he could see in her eyes that she was doing this of her own free will and he allowed himself to be enveloped at last by the peace he so much desired.

The crown that Criston had placed on his head appeared heavy and uncomfortable, but he thought that was what it was meant to be, to remind him that nothing was certain and given forever, that he had to be vigilant, that he could not afford to put his mind to sleep like his father.

Riding his horse towards the fortress amidst the cheers, he imagined with a tightened throat that his mother was already waiting for him there, ready to throw herself into his arms and embrace him, telling him how proud she was of him. He pressed his lips together and swallowed loudly, lowering his gaze, knowing it would never happen.

That night her body and her closeness blurred in his mind the weight of his crown, the grief of feeling lonely and empty, her warm hands clenched on the skin of his back as he rooted into her again and again, his lips joined with hers in lazy, hot, sticky kisses, her soft, firm breasts pressed against his chest in the tight embrace of their arms.

His restless nights were filled with silence and warmth; he was finally able to sleep again, and although he was sometimes awakened by nightmares, seeing and feeling her body snuggled into his, he only sighed with a sense of relief, pressing his face into her hair, thinking only of her scent and the softness of her body until his eyelids closed again.

To him, his wife was like a lit candle in the dark, cool chamber of his heart, emanating a warm, pleasant light that did not blind him, but showed him the way, made him regain his sight.

Watching the helpless efforts of the ladies of the court to catch his attention, he felt amused − their desperation made him grin ironically, causing them to blush in embarrassment, their cheeks rosy with shame.

They did not comprehend his nature, the darkness that lurked in the corners of his mind, his coldness and distance, his bottomless desire to remain in the shadows, to hide even as he remained king.

His wife understood him, his need for solitude, allowing him to spend his days on his duties, patiently waiting each day for the evening when they were reunited.

Although he would never admit it openly, he adored missing her, adored suffering at the thought that, however much he wanted to, she would not come to him without a reason, would not interrupt his training or council, would not seek his attention, focusing on her own affairs.

A few hours of anguish without her presence each day was enough that when he saw her lying in his bed, bare, waiting for him, he would simply sink into the pleasure and relief of her body.

Being deep inside her, he felt safe.

She was his refuge − inside her he would hide when the heavy crown he carried on his head overwhelmed him.

Apart from her, he had nobody and trusted no one.

It seemed to him that she was a lost part of him, that years ago something inside him had shattered into pieces and it appeared that what was left of her fitted into his parts, creating something entirely new and satisfyingly certain.

He appreciated the strength of her character, her maturity and her wisdom, the fact that she knew when to be silent and when to speak, that she never undermined his authority, that she always listened to him with concentration, advising him as best she could.

"All Lord Marrey wants is gold coins. He flaunts his wealth and his position at court. However, that is not what worries me, but what will happen if someone dares to offer him a better price."

She said wrinkling her eyebrows, her face turned to him in profile − she gazed thoughtfully out of the window into the night, stroking her arm involuntarily, her body clad in a richly decorated gown of blacks and reds, her beautiful shoulders bare, her sleeves reaching almost to the ground.

He lifted his gaze to her face, stirring with his hand in his goblet the remnant of wine that was left there, only to lift it to his lips and tilt it, drinking all that was in it, setting it down with a loud clink of steel on the table.

"What do you propose, wife? Should I, in your opinion, kill or lock up anyone who might betray me in the future?" He asked coolly, leaning against the back of his chair with a loud creak of wood, stretching out on it comfortably, the wine he had drunk so far making him feel warm.

Although he tried for a moment to focus on what she was saying, his gaze stopped on her bare back, emphasised beautifully by the bold line of her gown, wondering if she had been walking around the fortress like this all day, letting the guards shamelessly stare at such a large part of her exposed flesh.

He licked his lower lip at the thought, running his hand over his chin musingly.

"Aemond." He heard her impatient voice and felt himself shudder, lifting his gaze quickly to her face − it was extremely rare for her to speak to him like this − she only did it in private and only when he frustrated her with something. "His case really worries me. If you wish, I'll speak with him myself."

He pondered her words in silence for a moment, tapping his fingertips against his armrest.

"And what are you going to do? Ambush him?" He asked impassively, crossing his legs with a loud creak of his chair, leaning to the side with a loud sigh of fatigue, looking at her back again.

Just like when he had the mask on, he could watch her all day from hiding, look at her expression, her profile, her long eyelashes, her eyes and mouth, her agile, light movements full of dignity and serenity.

While he was like an aggressive flame burning everything, she was like the surface of a lake, letting him extinguish himself in the coolness of her reason, in the tenderness of her heart, making him manage not to cross the thin line that separated him from madness.

"I can propose that his daughter become my lady in waiting, and also suggest that I help him find a suitable candidate for her husband." She said calmly, playing with the three ruby teardrop necklace that adorned her beautiful long neck, his gift to her after their wedding night.

He loved fucking her when she was wearing nothing but this, the colour of their red combined with the black of her hair and the light of her body beneath him made them glow with fire in his eyes, the same kind he felt when their bodies connected in a tight, sticky, hot embrace.

He hummed under his breath, lowering his head, looking away, staring at his hand, playing with his fingers.

"Do as you see fit, wife. I will not interfere with your choice of ladies in waiting or the reasons that guided you." He said lowly, rising from his chair with a loud creak of wood and approached her with a confident, lazy step − her eyes grew large, a warmth and trust in her gaze, something that invariably surprised him.

He grasped her chin in his palm and lifted it slightly, stroking her skin with his thumb.

"Let's go to bed. There are a few things I want to convey to you. Among them, what I think of your bare back."

The next day there was to be, as there was every month, a gathering in the throne room, the lords and the townspeople could bring their issues and problems before him.

His Queen, to his satisfaction, willingly attended these meetings, at first standing by his side.

Later, however, he found it undignified that his Queen was not allowed to sit for so many hours, so he ordered a smaller throne to be created and placed next to his, on which she took her place from then on.

She never interjected without being asked, only speaking up when he requested her opinion in public, which was often when the matter was delicate, involved someone's hurt and misfortune and required a more understanding, compassionate approach.

He was pleased each time to hear that the words coming from her mouth were thoughtful, filled with wisdom but also with empathy and concern, without sounding hysterical or despairing, maintaining the solemnity of the situation.

He knew that outside the walls of the fortress, despite the fact that many lords were hostile to her, the people of the kingdom feared and respected him, but it was her they loved, seeing in her gestures of mercy and her support for the poor her value, which he also recognised.

He raised an eyebrow when a woman was brought before them, surprised that from afar he could see how unnaturally green her eyes were, her gaze sharp and assured, her black hair loose, her dress, though the garb of a typical bourgeois woman, perfectly accentuated her mature, feminine shapes.

"Your Grace. This woman I present before you is Alys Rivers, better known to some as the Witch of the East. She is known to foretell the future. I have brought her here because I thought the skills of someone like her might be of use to our King." Said Lord Ronwell, the same one who expected him to marry his daughter.

He refrained a grimace of amusement with the last of his strength, finding it difficult to restrain himself from glancing at his wife, knowing that a fire that could burn cities down probably shone in her eyes.

His words seemed to him a poor excuse for what he had been trying to do for a long time, which was to lessen her influence over him as Queen, to divert his attention towards another woman.

He hummed under his breath, crossing his legs, stretching comfortably on the throne, deciding he would take his time with the situation − the thought of his wife, whom his guards were surely thinking of at night, being jealous of him pleasantly tickled his ego.

"Speak, Alys, Witch of the East. Foretell me my future." He said with a sneer, cocking his head − he heard his wife let out a quiet breath of air with impatience.

She knew why he was doing this, that it wasn't even about this woman, that he was teasing her.

Alys Rivers walked boldly forward, climbing step by step higher, startling him and his wife, a brazen look on his face. He pressed his lips together, feeling discomfort and rage, wondering whether to stop it or not, and then the woman spoke.

"Your Queen will bear you a son with dark hair, a future King, beloved by the kingdom. You will have six children, but only two with your wife." She said softly, looking at him with a slight smile. He felt a squeeze in his throat, involuntarily glancing sideways − his wife was pale, her eyes open wide, her lips clenched into a tight line.

He laughed, running his hand over his face, unable to believe that she had allowed herself to say such a thing in her presence.

"And the daughter of which lord will experience the pleasure of carrying my children inside her?" He asked with a sneer, guessing that she had surely been ordered to say such a thing.

"I shall receive that honour, my King." She said with a sensual smile and he froze, lifting his gaze to her in disbelief, looking at his wife again, regretting that he had allowed her to speak at all. He licked his lower lip, feeling discomfort in his lower abdomen, looking away with rage.

"Hold her." He said dispassionately to his guards, rising from his throne − they immediately grabbed the woman by the shoulders and forced her to kneel, her gaze changed, her confidence gone from her face, her breathing loud and ragged.

"− my King − I −"

"− give me your sword −" He ordered dryly, extending his hand to Criston, who looked at him horrified, but reached for his blade without a word and slid out his weapon with a loud clatter of steel.

"− please, my King, have mercy − I have been ordered to say so −" She mumbled out, seeing the determination and coldness painted on his face.

The most important thing he had learnt over the years of observing people was when they lie.

When she stood in front of him she was not at all frightened, what she said was not uncomfortable for her − she truly believed that with her words he would destroy his wife's trust in him and eventually become his lover.

He was not going to rely on fate in this matter.

However, it was not his opinion or her plea that mattered to him. He looked over his shoulder at his wife's face − she was staring at him, pale, her eyes red, full of tears, full of pain caused by this cruel humiliation she had suffered because of him, her breasts rose and fell quickly in a shuddering breath, her nostrils twitching restlessly.

I will kill with my own hands anyone who dares to offend my Queen.

He had never lied to her.

"Who ordered you to say such things, woman?" He asked impatiently, leaning the tip of his sword against the stone floor, placing his hands on the hilt, towering over her, complete silence reigned around them.

The woman swallowed loudly, no longer daring to look at him, feeling that he stood over her like an executioner.

"− Lord − Lord Ronwell −" She mumbled quietly, all around them he heard sounds of disbelief and argument − someone shouted that Lord Ronwell was a traitor, the man however shook his head.

"This woman lies, my King!" He said enraged and horrified, clearly not suspecting that the situation would take such a turn.

Loud arguing and shouting echoed around him, which quietened immediately as his blade swished through the air and the woman's head tumbled down the stone steps to the floor below, several ladies of the court squealed loudly, horrified by the sight.

"Her every breath would be an insult to my Queen. Let this be a lesson to anyone who tries to plot against her. Guards, lock Lord Ronwell in the dungeons until she decides what to do with him." He said extending his hand with a sword towards Criston, surprised and horrified, his tunic all dirty with blood.

He turned to look at his wife's reaction − she was staring at him with her eyes wide open, her lips parted in disbelief, the heat in her gaze from which his cock throbbed hard.

She wasn't disgusted or afraid of him.

She understood that he had defended her honour.

That he had done it for her.

"My Queen. Forgive me that you had to listen to those disgusting words. Take her body and let us move on." He said indifferently, sitting down on his throne again, expecting them to continue as if nothing had happened.

His wife surprised him as soon as they were alone in his chamber, clinging greedily to his lips, grasping his cheeks in her hands − he groaned low, feeling the throbbing in his breeches, reciprocating her kiss with a loud click.

"− let me wash my hands − they're filthy −" He breathed out into her mouth, but she shook her head, grasping his hand in hers and pressing it to her face, in her eyes heat, longing, gratitude and desire from which he felt himself get completely hard.

His thumb, all slick with the blood of this brazen woman ran over her lower lip − he shuddered when he felt her run her moist tongue over his skin.

"− fuck −" He growled, grabbing her jaw with his hand, clinging aggressively to her lips. She bit him and he groaned low, surprised, lifting her gown, hitting her bare buttock with all his strength. "− how dare you − how fucking dare you treat your King like this −"

He hissed, turning her violently to face the table, clamping his hand in her hair, forcing her to bend over, her cheek pressed against the table top. She panted loudly along with him as he lifted the fabric of her gown with a swift movement, revealing her naked hips before him, her womanhood all pink and swollen, glistening from her moisture.

"− fucking knew it − my little wife is bloodthirsty, hm? − isn't she? − so jealous −" He gasped feeling his heart pounding like mad − he slid his finger deep inside her without warning and groaned weakly, feeling how her walls clenched around him, how aroused she was, her thighs trembling whole before him.

"− please, husband − please, I need it −" She mewled sweetly, innocently, her face and buttock dirty from the blood from his hand − there was something frightening and at the same time so arousing about the sight that he felt like his cock was about to explode.

"− what do you need? − speak, sweet wife, your King listens to you intently −" He said mockingly, sliding his finger in and out of her, once in a while pressing and massaging the spot hidden between her folds, each time bringing out of her a loud, pathetic cry, her body trembling all over, her lips parted wide in pleasure.

"− g-gods, take me − fuck me − please −" She begged desperately. He gasped low at her words, unable to deny her, sliding his finger out of her, quickly untying and lowering his breeches − she whimpered loudly when his swollen manhood slapped against her buttocks.

"− quiet − lay still and let me in −" He growled, with a sure, deep thrust of his hips pushing the head of his cock into her hot interior. He clamped his hands on her buttocks and began to slam into her with a loud moan of relief − she whined loudly in pleasure, clenching her fingers on the table top, her eyes squeezed shut, her eyebrows arched as if in worry.

"− gods, you're leaking − the sight of me beheading that whore made you so fucking wet? − hm? −" He gasped, rooting into her even faster, squeezing her soft buttock with his hands, watching with delight how his fat, swollen manhood stretched her tight, fleshy core with his every thrust.

"− p-please, don't stop, keep going −" She mewled, responding with her body to the movements of his hips, her wet, hot muscles sucking on him greedily, wanting to keep him inside − he was horrified at how sacrilegious and intense this experience was.

"− I'll kill anyone − anyone, gods, just say the word − I'll give you everything −" He burst out and she sobbed loudly. He felt a wave of pleasure shake her body, her walls were clenching around him so tightly he was running out of breath − he slammed into her like mad, his thighs slapping against her buttocks with a loud clicks of her moisture.

"− my beloved King −" She whimpered with difficulty quivering all over, his heart pounded so hard he felt like it was going to rip his chest open, a convulsion shook his body.

"− just like that − oh, fuckkk −" He exhaled, clenching his eyes and tilting his head back, panting hard, feeling a wonderful, overpowering relief, his seed spilling deep inside her at last.

They were both breathing loudly and shaking, unable to believe how strong their fulfilment was − he put his hands on either side of her head, trying to calm himself, his cock twitching all over deep inside her.

"− good gods − are you all right? −" He asked horrified, breathing heavily, reminding himself that they had fucked each other so hard that they could barely get the words out.

He sighed in relief sliding out of her when she nodded, he heard her hiss quietly. He stared for a moment wordlessly at the trail of his spend that trickled down her thighs, his hand reached up to her hot buttock and squeezed it tentatively.

"Let's take a bath."

____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

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thebenjiblackwoodexpress · 6 months ago

Text

Star crossed

Aeron Bracken x Blackwood!OC

𝔖𝔬 ℑ 𝔰𝔫𝔢𝔞𝔨 𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔢𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔚𝔢 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔮𝔲𝔦𝔢𝔱, '𝔠𝔞𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔴𝔢'𝔯𝔢 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔦𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔨𝔫𝔢𝔴. ~ 𝔗𝔞𝔶𝔩𝔬𝔯 𝔖𝔴𝔦𝔣𝔱 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔖𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔶

Description: At a masked Harvest Banquet held by Lord Tully at Riverrun, Aeron Bracken falls in love with a beautiful girl with golden hair. With nothing but the broken ruby necklace she left behind as a clue to her identity, Aeron searches for the girl only to find she is a Blackwood. Can true love triumph over the mutual enmity between their houses?

Disclaimer: I wrote this as a sort of companion to the Beauty and the Beast inspired Benji oneshot I did. It's based on a mix of Cinderella and Romeo and Juliet instead. Not that happy with how it turned out but decided to post it anyway. Fair warning it's very lengthy, I accidentally went quite plot heavy and this writer can never just get to the point your honour. This has no connection with my Aeron x Reader series Jump then Fall.

Warnings: Violence, Blood, swearing, negative associations with bastards (OC has dubious heritage), Black Aly's daughter, female OC, angst, fluff. Love at first sight vibes based on R+J and Cinderella. Incredibly self-indulgent, I just love Romeo and Juliet as a concept.

Once a year the liege lords of the seven kingdoms would host a Harvest Banquet to bring their vassals together. For most noble houses it was one of the most anticipated events in the year, an evening of festivities and an opportunity to gain favour with their liege Lord. In the Riverlands, it was a different story altogether and Aeron was dreading it. Every Harvest Banquet held at Riverrun inevitably descended into chaos, perilous as it was to have Blackwoods and Brackens in such close proximity. Lord Tully had ever been weak and unable to control the two warring houses, and the tensions between them would often dissolve into violence. Aeron was already filled with trepidation as he stepped into the carriage that would take him and his uncle, Lord Amos Bracken, to Riverrun. His uncle's next words only solved to bolster his feeling of unease.

"Nephew, I have never denied you your more scholarly interests, never reproached you although I would have preferred you to have taken an equal interest in your sworsdsmanship."

Aeron blanched at that. He had been recently knighted by his Lord Uncle and yet had only begun to take a true interest in swordplay. He spent much of his time in the expansive library at Stone Hedge, enraptured by the histories of the Targaryen dynasty. His uncle had never understood Aeron's interest in the House of the Dragon, he could surely spend his time concerned with his own House and lands instead?

"Nonetheless, I should like to see you take a wife who will fill the place of Lady Bracken once you come into your inheritance."

Aeron's mouth fell open, speechless, and he was sure he resembled the fish head sigil of House Tully.

"Uncle, I hardly think..."

Lord Bracken interrupted him before he could protest. "There will be many ladies at the banquet, from across the Riverlands and the Seven Kingdoms. It is a great chance for you to find a lady that should suit you. You may make your choice yourself, but grant me this: that you will concede to your uncle to try."

Aeron found the very real possibility of a brawl with Blackwood kinsmen far more appealing and much less frightening than what his uncle was suggesting. He had only a little experience talking with the ladies who would attend his uncle's feasts at Stone Hedge and up until now he'd spent most of Lord Tully's banquets making merry with his friends.

Nonetheless, his uncle had indeed never denied Aeron his interests and had enough faith in him to knight him. He found he could not deny his request outright.

"I will try."

Amos smiled in response and affectionately patted Aeron's shoulder at his acquiescence. A jolt from the carriage as it ran over uneven ground had Aeron's head snapping up to see they were almost at the moat of Rivverun Castle. Aeron adjusted his mask to get a better look at the castle, Lord Tully having decided to hold a masked banquet in accordance with the customs of Kings Landing this year. It was like something out of a folk tale, ensconced as it was on all sides by the Red Fork. Even set in darkness by the cloak of night, lit only by the glow of the moon and torchlight, he could not help but marvel at it as if he were seeing it for the first time.

Upon entering the Great Hall, Aeron took little time in finding his friends, and fellow knights, by the long banquet table which stretched the length of the room.

Quickly pulled into their conversation, he found himself forgetting his Lord Uncle's request entirely. Minstrels soon took up their instruments, and lords and ladies took to the centre of the hall to dance.

Aeron had only cast his eyes ascance over the dancing couples for a moment, but instantly found his eyes drawn to a girl with golden hair that seemed to glitter under the soft glow of the candle light, as if she were herself made from burnished gold. The sound of the minstrels' song, the chattering of lords and ladies, all seemed to fade into the background as Aeron observed the lady's graceful movements, her burgundy dress fanning around her as she twirled.

"Who is the lady whose gentle touch does grace the hand of that knight yonder?"

Jon and Samwell turned to look in the direction of his gaze. "I could not say, even without the mask I have never seen a girl with hair that shade at one of these banquets. Perhaps she hails from another kingdom entirely" Samwell shrugged. Aeron barely heard him.

"Any intimations I have had of beauty, forswear them all. She does teach the stars to shine in their celestial abode above the starry Sept. No, fire to burn and consume for starlight is too cold a light for her. She is golden sunlight that scorches."

Jon snorted. "My good man, what has come over you? I fear you've spent too much time reading poetry. If you think her so fair why not approach her for a dance?"

As the dance came to an end and he watched the golden lady curtsy to her partner, Jon pushed Aeron forward. His eyes subconsciously widened in alarm.

"No, I cannot. I'll only make a fool of myself." Aeron wanted more than anything to approach the lady, but felt certain there were other lords she would prefer than he.

Jon signed, exasperated. "If you will not, then I shall dance with her myself."

Aeron felt a wave of jealousy surge within his, his fists clenched slightly in anger at his friend as he watched him approach the lady, as he himself wished to. As the lady accepted Jon's hand to dance, his heart tightened in his chest and a sudden boldness came over him that had him handing Samwell his goblet and striding towards where they danced. When the golden lady turned away from Jon, as the danced required, Aeron took his chance before he could talk himself out it. Roughly pushing Jon aside, Aeron quickly took his place. This only seemed to amuse Jon, whose knowing smile as he exited the dance floor suggested he'd been hoping to spur his friend to action all along.

As the lady turned back to face him, he watched her eyes, a curious shade of blue that veered on violet, widen in surprise underneath her mask, which resembled a tawny owl.

"I am certain you are not the man I was just dancing with my lord."

Her voice was sweeter than any music Aeron had ever heard and he wanted nothing more than to hear her speak again.

"I apologise my lady, Ser Jon was...indisposed. I wish to take his place, if you will allow."

Swallowing down his nerves he offered her his hand to her palm up. The lady tentatively placed her hand upon his, palm to palm as they began to turn in a circle and resume the steps of the dance.

"I am most grateful for your chivalry, my Lord. I should have been mortified to find myself jilted in the middle of the dance." The lady's tone was teasing, her eyes glittering under the torch light, and Aeron felt his lips upturn in a smile, as he grew in confidence.

"It is no great act of chivalry on my part. I must confess that I am bidden here by your beauty, I could not but notice you from afar and wished to speak with you, if only to express this to you"

Aeron's confidence diminished as he watched the lady's mouth part and heard her small intake of breath. Fearful that he had made the lady uncomfortable, Aeron quickly stuttered out an apology

"Forgive me my brashness, my Lady, I fear the wine has gone to my head and I have spoken out of turn."

They briefly broke apart to weave between the adjacent couple, Aeron's mind racing until they came back together.

"There is nothing to forgive, I take no offence in the compliment. I am gladdened you think me beautiful." Aeron released the breath he'd been holding to know he had not offended the lady but felt his eyes widening in shock at her shy response and the delicate blush upon her cheeks. Did she not think herself beautiful?

"O you are fairer than fair and lovelier still." The words came unbidden from his lips before he could stop them. He had not meant to be so forward, but he found himself wanting to sing the lady's praises, should it please her. The teasing strain that had marked their conversation up until this point left her voice entirely as she looked up at him beneath her lashes, uttering a soft "Thank you", in earnest.

Aeron cleared his throat slightly, trying to diffuse his nerves. "Are you enjoying your evening, my Lady?"

"In truth I do not much enjoy banquets, I had much rather be reading or riding my horse Estella. Although I am happy to have finally seen Riverrun, it is a most impressive structure." she responded, almost sheepishly, to Aeron's surprise.

"I feel much the same, my Lady. May I ask what you most enjoy to read?"

Y/N's eyes lit up at his question, "I enjoy the histories the most, particularly those of the Targaryen dynasty."

Aeron grew more confident in the knowledge of their shared interest.

"I too have a particular interest in the Targaryens, my uncle does not understand it at all and I know he wishes me to remove my nose from my books. But is it not thrilling to read of dragon riders, to know that we walk amongst such God-like beings?"

As their dance came to an end, the golden lady grabbed Aeron's hand and started to pull him towards an inconspicuous door towards the other end of the hall. "Come with me." She said simply and he wordlessly followed, content at the feel of her smaller hand in his. He allowed himself to be pulled by the lady out of the door and along a series of corrdidors until they reached a long hallway, its walls covered in paintings.

Aeron had never ventured this far into Riverrun's halls before. "How did you come to find this, my Lady?"

The golden lady dropped his hand and Aeron flexed his slightly at the loss of contact, already missing the feeling of her hand in his. "My mother had Oscar Tully show it to me before the banquet started, she knew I'd like to see it and I believe you might too."

Taking hold of his hand again, she pulled him towards the third painting on the Eastern side of the hall. Aeron found himself gazing at the girl next to him instead of the painting, as if he were trying to memorise her features and she were the painting, but quickly averted his eyes when he caught her gaze. The painting in front of him was of a knight bending the knee in obeisance to a kingly figure with pale blonde hair.

"They depict the histories of House Tully. This one shows Aegon the Conqueror naming Edmyn Tully Lord paramount of the Red Fork." Aeron did not know such objects, filled with precious knowledge, existed at Rivverun.

"I am gladdened you thought to show this to me, my Lady, I am yours to command. Direct me forthwith." The golden lady grinned up at him beneath her mask and pulled him from one painting to another, explaining little details on each. Aeron could not help but smile at her excitement all the while. Finally, she pulled him towards a painting he could not decipher as the lady next to to him began point out details to him. "It depicts the women's court held at Riverrun on behalf of Queen Alysanne Targaryen by her lady's maid, Jennis Templeton. Queen Alysanne herself was presiding over the Iron Throne in the King's absence. A true Queen."

Aeron smiled softly at her. "Queen Alysanne was a wise and capable consort. By the grace of the Seven, we should see such a partnership grace the Iron Throne again."

To his dismay, the lady's face fell and she gripped the gold chain of her Ruby necklace, her knuckles turning white. He could not think what in his words had offended her but before he could offer her his apologies for any misunderstanding, a horn sounded faintly in the distance. The noble families must have been preparing to leave, the light of the moon suggesting that it was the hour of the eel. Time had slipped away from Aeron. With a look of alarm, the lady took hold of her skirts and, with parting "farewell my lord", she rushed down the hall whence they'd come. The chain of her necklace broke and as it fell to the floor she briefly looked back at it with a mixture of sadness and indecision, before abandoning it entirely.

Frozen to the spot in shock at the suddenness of her departure, it was only upon spotting the glittering of her ruby necklace on the floor that Aeron could force himself to move. Kneeling to collect the broken remnants, he quickly leapt up and broke into a run. He was determined to return her necklace to her, to make amends for any offence he might have caused, and to learn the name of the lady who'd ensnared his heart so quickly.

By the time he reached the Great Hall, she had disappeared entirely into the throng of lords and ladies now departing to return to their own hall He cursed himself for tarrying so long, for being such a floundering fool that he had not even asked the name of the lady. Wrenching his mask from his face in frustration, he looked down upon the broken necklace in his palm. Closing his palm over the cold surface of the ruby, a feeling of resolve came over him. Someone at the banquet would be able to identify the jewel or the lady herself. He would find the girl of burnished gold again.

Aeron searched far and wide for the mysterious lady, sending missives by raven to each House that had been in attendance at the Harvest Banquet, excluding the Blackwoods. But none could lay claim to the necklace he described or identify the Lady with the golden hair. It was as if she had never existed. Aeron was weary with frustration, leaning his cheek against the cold surface of his desk. A knock at the door of his chambers had him straightening up just in time for a herald to announce Ser Samwell and Ser Jon. He bolted out of his seat to greet them.

"Any news of my lady?" His hopeful expression fell as they both shook their heads. "I fear she cannot or does not want to be found. What does your uncle say of this...obsession of yours Aeron?"

Aeron rolled his eyes, "I think he finds the whole affair amusing. He told me he was intrigued to see how it would play out."

Samwell snorted and Jon discretely elbowed him in the ribs. Aeron ignored their antics and tried to think of what else he could do when an idea came to him. Returning to his desk, he pulled the ruby necklace from a drawer and presented it to his friends. "I will bring the lady's necklace to all the jewellers in the Riverlands, one of them must be able to identify the owner. Failing that, I will extend my search to the Seven Kingdoms."

Eyes widening at the lengths Aeron was willing to go to find his golden lady, Jon nodded and turned to leave. "As you will it." Aeron quickly set to his task, making plans for when he would visit each jeweller. He would ride out from Stone Hedge on the morrow.

Aeron had already tried four other jewellers before he came to the one at Fairmarket, entering the establishment with no small amount of anxiety, aware it was frequented by both House Blackwood and House Bracken. "I wish to enquire as to the providence of this necklace. Do you recognise it?" Aeron could not help the hope that surged in him, even as it had been dashed at every turn. His heart began beating wildly as the jeweller began to nod with clear recognition upon his face. "I know it, it was my hands that crafted it. The necklace belongs to the Lady Daenara Blackwood, daughter of Lady Alysanne." Aeron felt as if the ground was collapsing out from under him. He had not even considered the possibility of his lady belonging to the House of his greatest enemies. Her features were not those associated with House Blackwood, not possessing the raven hair and dark eyes of her kinsmen. His mind spun, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions warring with each other until he came to the realisation that it did not matter. He had never met a lady like Daenara Blackwood, never found a person that felt so familiar and comfortable to him even upon first meeting, none so intelligent, none so beautiful. He found he could not extend his inherited hatred of her House to her, and came to a decision.

"How long would it take you to mend it?"

Three days later, the now mended ruby necklace in his tunic, Aeron reviewed the course of events that had led him to his current precarious position. A bead of sweat trailed down his brow as he heaved himself up by the vines on the lowest wall he could find as he had circled Raventree Hall. Swinging himself over the top of the wall he found that he was in a lush garden, likely no where near the household chambers and he began to think he'd been truly stupid in not thinking up a clearer plan. Would he now have to throw stones at every window and pray he found that of his Lady's instead of her cousin Benjicot's?

A glimmer of gold caught his eye between the arches of a wall that seemed to lead to a smaller, private garden and he thanked the Seven for bringing him to exactly where he needed to be, as if by fate. Beginning to climb down into the grounds, he lost his footing and unceremoniously fell to the ground, letting out a low grunt of pain. His Lady must have heard the kerfuffle, for she appeared between one of the arches of the wall separating them to see him sprawled in front of her.

Quickly jumping to his feet, he halted his movements as she took some hurried steps back, eager not to scare her away. He held his hands out placatingly.

"Please, I did not mean to frighten you, my Lady. Will you not stay a moment?"

Daenara's eyes fell upon his golden tunic and the red stallion blazing across it, the sigil of his House.

"You are a Bracken, how can I be sure you do not intend to harm me."

He took several tentative steps forward, prompting Daenera to move further into the garden, dissapearing behind the wall before reappearing in an arch further away from the door which must lead to her private garden.

"I assure you I have no ill intent and would never harm a lady." He followed her as she moved down the length of the wall, shooting him furtive glances. He thought desperately of how he could convey to her that he meant her no harm.

"It is death should they find you here." She had stopped moving away from him at least, enabling him to step right up to the arch she now peered at him through.

"I do not wish to quarrel with your kin, only to return what belongs to you and to speak with you. If it is your wish to bid me go once I have done so, then I shall leave at your will, I assure you." When Daenara gave no response, only looking up at him quizzically with furrowed brows, he continued.

"I came to return your necklace, I hope you will not take offence at my presumption but I had it mended. You looked saddened to see it break so I could not but guess at its significance for you."

He held the necklace out to her across the ledge of the arch, and she slowly raised her hand to take it, brushing her hand against his.

"I am most grateful to you, my Lord. This necklace is, indeed, of special importance to me. A gift from my mother and a symbol of my House, though I know that will not hold much import for you."

Ignoring the door he'd seen entirely, Aeron climbed through the arch, leaping over the wall, as Daenara stepped back to allow him entrance. He was relieved that she now seemed to understand he would not harm her. It pained him to think of it.

"I would not reproach you for loyalty to your House, which is most admirable."

Looking into his eyes with a startling focus as if trying to assess his sincerity, she seemed to find what she was looking for.

"May I request your assistance?"

She pulled her hair back from her neck and turned her back to allow him access. Hands trembling slightly with his nervousness at their proximity, he wrapped the necklace around her neck and closed the clasp of the necklace. His fingers lightly brushed against the graceful slope of her neck, her skin soft and delicate to the touch.

A blanket of golden hair brushed against his shoulders with their closeness as Daenara turned back round to face him, hand clasped around her necklace.

"You have divested yourself of your purpose for coming here, what will you do now?" A glimmer of something he could not place lit her eyes, and Aeron had to forcibly pull his eyes away from them to answer coherently.

"It is only half true that I have fulfilled my purpose in coming to you, my Lady. I wish to speak my intentions, should you permit it."

"What intentions could you have? Have you yourself not borne witness to the chasm that separates our Houses, the danger you now place yourself in just by being here?"

Taking a careful step toward her, their chests almost touching, Aeron lowered his head reverentially and spoke softly.

"The only danger I fear is that which lies within your power. It is you fair lady whose weapons I fear.

Daenara looked surprised at his answer but stepped closer still, having to crane her neck up to look into his eyes.

"I am not so dangerous as that. And to what weapons do you speak of?"

"I speak of your power to grant or deny me your favour. One word from you could dash all of my hopes and tear my heart asunder quicker and with greater pain than any dagger of your kinsmen."

A look of realisation began to dawn on her features, a blush to tint her cheeks before Aeron spoke again.

"Your wit, your warmth, and your beauty ensnared me from the first. I tried to remove you from my thoughts, I admit, upon learning you were a Blackwood, but it was as if I were tearing a constituent element from myself. Do I dare to hope you have thought of me also?"

"I have thought of you many times since that night. I thought you must be a Bracken when you spoke of the Seven and it frightened me, yet I could not bar my heart to you even as I fled from you."

Aeron place a hand lightly on her elbow, his head spinning at the thought of Daenara returning his feelings for her.

"I have searched for you since, my only clue your necklace, so auspiciously dropped. For without it I could not have found my way to you again."

Taking a few steps back from him, Daenera stopped Aeron from following with a hand to his chest.

"I fear I cannot grant you what you seek. My affections as a Blackwood are not meant for a Bracken to possess."

"Your caution is wise, fairest of ladies, but you'll find that a match between our Houses is not without precedent. Queen Visenya Targaryen herself arranged for two matches between our houses to great success. And was not King Benedict Blackwood himself born of both our Houses?"

Daenara's eyes shot up to meet his, her face contorted in anger. "Do you draw the comparison purposefully, for none could be deceived or blinded by my appearance? I know I do not bear the features of my House."

Quickly realising his blunder, King Benedict famously being a bastard, he took hold of her hand in both of his, his expression penitent.

"Sweet Lady, I assure you I meant no offence, it was not my intent and I beg your forgiveness for my careless blunder. I will speak plainly to avoid any misunderstandings between us. I wish to court you and devote myself to winning your heart for mine own."

"You speak such pretty words, I can scarcely believe them to be in earnest."

"Forgive me if my tongue does run away with itself, I will desist should my words displease you. Only do not send me from your sight entirely. My admiration for you is true, my Lady."

"Daenara, you may call me Daenara."

Aeron's lips quirked up in a smile.

"Daenara. And you must call me Aeron." Daenara offered him a tentative smile that instilled him with the confidence to make his next request.

"Will you meet me on the border between our lands tomorrow? I only wish to talk with you and learn more about you, Daenara." That was an understatement. He wanted to know everything about her, her likes and dislikes, what hopes she held for the future.

"I will endeavour to meet you, though I cannot promise. It will not be easy to slip past Benjicot. My cousin is rather protective of me."

He gently took hold of her hand, his moments slow to allow Daenara time to reject his advance. When she did not, he grazed his lips across her knuckles, maintaining eye contact with her "I will wait for you."

Aeron could not repress his joy as he climbed back over the garden wall of Raventree Hall, barely paying any mind to the danger as he snuck back into Bracken lands. His heart soared at the thought of seeing Daenara again on the morrow.

The next day Aeron waited at the border between Bracken and Blackwood lands until he began to think Daenera would not come. The light tread of footsteps and the sound of satin shifting signalled her arrival and he beamed at her. "You came, my Lady." She smiled shyly back a him, "I promised I would try."

As Aeron took a step towards her, she raised a palm up to stop him. "I would not have you risk crossing into our lands again, it is a miracle you managed it unharmed last night. And I really ought not to cross into Bracken lands."

Aeron frowned then held out his hand to her, palm outstretched. "I will not cross the boundary line if it displease you. But we may walk along it side by side if we stay within our own lands may we not?" Taking his outstretched hand, Aeron quickly interlocked their fingers, his own cheeks surely blazing with heat at her acceptance as they began to walk alongside one another, a curious sight. Aeron found he did not care how unusual a pairing they made, simply content to speak with her again, to laugh with her, all the while feeling the comforting weight of her smaller hand in his, as she playfully began to swing their arms.

A sudden movement caught Aeron's eyes and he panicked at seeing Benjicot Blackwood, who would surely kill him should he find him so close with his cousin, at a distance. Realising he'd not yet spotted them he quickly pushed Daenara into a nearby bush on the Bracken side of the border. Swiftly bracing his hands on either side of her head to avoid crushing her under his weight he swept one hand over her head, tucking various strands of hair away from her face, looking over her frantically to determine if the fall had hurt her. "Aeron!" Daenara scolded him, unaware of what could have prompted his strange actions "My Lady, I apologise profusely. Are you hurt anywhere? I saw your cousin approaching overhill and panicked" the last he spoke sheepishly, waiting with baited breath for her to scold him.

To his surprise she smiled up at him affectionately and tangled her hand in his hair, laughing up at him. "It looks like I've crossed into Bracken lands after all, despite my best intentions." Aeron looked at her seriously, their faces so close his nose was almost brushing hers. "You will not come to any harm on my lands, not when I'm with you." Daenara made no answer, but when her eyes flitted from his eyes to his lips he boldly claimed hers with his own. Her hand tightened its hold on his hair to pull him closer to her and he moved his hand to cup her face. When they broke away for air he placed his forehead on hers before placing a tender kiss upon her head and standing, reaching down to pull her up with him and help her out of the bush. "I believe your cousin must have departed by now."

Aeron and Daenara continued to meet at the border, walking hand in hand along the boundary stones which divided their Houses, exchanging kisses and leaving letters for one another in secret, a bond of love growing between them each day.

Daenera stomped towards her meeting spot with Aeron, furiously brushing away tears of bitter betrayal from her eyes. Her mother, the Lady Alysanne Blackwood, had summoned her to her Chambers that morning, and by the time she'd left it felt like her entire reality had been pulled out from beneath her. Daenera was not naiive, she'd always known she was a bastard. She looked nothing like her kin, the only thing making it at all clear she was related to her cousin Benjicot was their shared loyalty and that they were quick to anger. But she had never pushed her mother for the truth of her parentage, thinking it must be a source of pain to her. But now, to find that after she had expressed her affinity with the House of the Dragon for so long, her mother had kept from her that she herself was forged in fire and blood, it was almost too much to bear. Her mother had explained that her father was the Prince Daemon Targaryen, making Daenera herself a Targaryen. It did explain her strangely coloured eyes and golden hair, surely the outcome of the Blackwood influence darkening the pale blonde hair of the Targaryens. But it hurt to hear her mother finally explain why she'd kept her from public festivities such as the Harvest Banquet, or any banquets outside of Raventree Hall for so long, for fear that her Targaryen ancestry should be discovered and make her a target. A fear Alysanne felt all the more keenly as the House of the Dragon had fallen into all out warfare, her own House and that of her love's declaring for different sides.

To make matters worse, her mother had made the truly aberrant suggestion to her to take a husband from their bannerman to further cement her place as a Blackwood, to give her hand to Ser Rickard of all people. He was brutish and vulgar, no matter how loyal he was to their House. But it was the suggestion she should continue to hide such an essential part of herself to avoid getting caught up in the Dance of the Dragons that cut her most deeply.

Aeron smiled upon spotting her but his face quickly fell as he rushed towards her, crossing into Blackwood territory to gently take hold of her elbows and search her face. "What has happened, my Love?"

She felt her throat close up with tears and let her head fall onto Aeron's chest, as he encircled one arm around her waist and one held her head against his chest to comfort her. After a while she pulled away from him, prepared to tell him all that had passed between her and her mother, all the while praying to her gods that it would not change his feelings towards her.

"My mother has informed me of my true parentage. She says that I was born of a brief affair with the Prince Daemon Targaryen, of all the possibilities. That I, myself, am a Targaryen. Worse, he does not know I was even born. I know my mother intended to protect me but it does not make her deception sting any less. To make matters worse, she wishes me to marry one of our bannermen and I don't know how to tell her my heart already belongs to another." Aeron had frozen in shock at her first admission, before realising that he must have known this truth about his lady somehow all along based on his first impression of her. And there were more pressing matters than gawping at her, she was looking to him for comfort, to help her fix this. And he'd be damned if any other man but him would marry the woman he loved, knowing she loved him too.

"My Love, I think I knew from the first moment I saw you that you were made of fire and I have ever been drawn to it. I do believe that fate brought us together in that knowledge. As to your betrothal, I will go to Raventree hence and plead for your hand if you should allow."

Daenara brought her hands to cup Aeron's face. Aeron hated seeing the sorrow adorning her pretty features. "My mother would never allow it, my kinsmen will surely kill you for even attempting it." Aeron took hold of Daenara's hands and pulled them to his heart, looking into her eyes. "I Love you, and I will risk a thousand swords to make you my wife if that is also your wish." In response, Daenara pulled Aeron down towards her by his tunic, molding her lips with his. They broke apart, both turning towards the sound of shouting "Get away from her Bracken."

"Gods, that's Ser Rickard, the man my mother wishes to marry me off to." If looks could kill, Aeron would be in his grave. But he steeled his courage, prepared to defend his lady and his love for her from Ser Rickard and the two other Blackwood Knights trailing him. He pulled Daenara behind him and sent a glare the knight's way, which only seemed to incense him further. "You dare to cross the border and accost a Blackwood, you craven bastard!"

Aeron bristled at his insinuation. "I would never impose myself on a lady without her consent, Ser."

"She belongs to House Blackwood and is to be my wife, I have her mother's permission. Remove your hands from her person."

Aeron took a step towards the knight, speaking through gritted teeth. "From what I hear you do not have the lady's consent, and that is all that matters to me."

"You speak for her do you?"

"I would not dare. But I will not stand by idly as you lay claim to the lady as if she were some common cattle."

Not a moment after Aeron had spoken, Ser Rickard had forcefully shoved Aeron in the chest, pushing both Aeron and Daenara backwards. Shoving him again, Aeron just barely managed to stay standing, looking behind him to check Daenara was unharmed as she'd been holding onto his arm. But she had placed herself between the two in an attempt to stop any further violence from ensuing and time seemed to slow as Aeron watched in horror as a blow meant for him connected with Daenara's face, sending her falling to the ground.

Aeron immediately went to her, brushing hair away from her face, tenderly holding a hand to the side of her head to assess the damage. He felt his heart drop upon seeing a trickle of blood coming from a split in her lip. Her eyes were wide in shock as if she had not yet fully registered what had happened. Aeron had never had a proclivity for violence, but seeing Daenara harmed when he should of prevented it sent a surge of anger through him he had never felt before. He launched himself at Ser Rickard before the other Blackwood Knights could stop him, bringing him to the ground with the force of his assault. The brief moment of confusion lost, the Blackwood Knights forcibly pulled Aeron from Ser Rickard and he shrugged off their arms before kneeling back down next to Daenara, his eyes filled with concern. "Are you alright, my Love, are you in a great deal of pain?" Daenara held her jaw in one hand, clearly pained by it, and raised her hand to Aeron's face. "I am alright, it is not so awful."

A shout interrupted them as Benjicot appeared a few yards away, his face filled with rage. "Bracken!"

Aeron stood up to face him. Benjicot had briefly surveyed the situation and come to the conclusion that the brazen Bracken knight had laid hands upon his clearly injured cousin. "Did you strike my cousin? I'll kill you if you've harmed her."

Daenera rose from her position on the rough ground, dusting her skirts down, and placed a hand on Benjicot's chest. "He did not harm me cousin, but rather protected me from the one who did. You can take my injuries up with Ser Rickard once he picks himself up from the ground." She gestured briefly in the direction of the knight who was coughing and trying to recover his composure after Aeron's assault. Benjicot's breathing began to calm as he realised the truth of the situation, but he glared at Aeron nonetheless. "Benjicot please stop glaring at Aeron. You should know that I love him and intend to marry him." Benjicot took a sharp intake of breath, anger taking over his expression before he seemed to calm himself with a concerted effort, saying simply "I'll take you home cousin." Daenara nodded and took Benjicot's proferred arm, shooting Aeron an apologetic glance. But Aeron had already grabbed onto Benjicot's other arm to stop his movements. "I do not wish for the lady to be in any trouble because of her association with me."

Benjicot shrugged Aeron's hand off. "I care deeply for my cousin and I would not take issue with her even if she does have poor taste in men." With that Aeron watched Daenara and Benjicot walk the way of Raventree Hall before making his way back to Stone Hedge to speak with his Uncle.

Aeron was equal parts surprised and relieved that it took very little convincing on his part for his uncle to sanction his marriage to the Lady Daenera.

Aeron had anticipated an argument, reminding his uncle of the previous terms he'd set for Aeron securing a betrothal. "You told me I could make my own choice. I choose Daenera. I love her Uncle, and I have the good fortune that she loves me in turn." Lord Amos had only let out a short laugh at his nephew's insistence, never expecting him to make such an unexpected match but nevertheless offered him his support in securing Lady Alysanne's consent for the marriage at Raventree Hall the next day.

More curious still was Lady Alysanne's acceptance of the match on the basis that Benjicot Blackwood of all people had spoken up in his favour. Aeron decided to dispense with his confusion in favour of embracing his lady and capturing her lips with his, in the knowledge that they would soon be wed, despite all the odds set against them.

Lady Alysanne sent a raven to Dragonstone shortly after Aeron and Lord Bracken left Raventree, deciding that it was time for Daenara to have the chance to know her father. It took less than the turn of one moon for Daemon to arrive on dragonback, landing Caraxes not far from her halls, eager to meet with the daughter whose existence he'd had no idea of. Daenera had hardly known what to say or do and had curtsied tentatively towards him, addressing him in a timid voice "My Prince." Daemon wasted no time in embracing her, speaking into her hair "My daughter."

Daenera had never felt more sure of who she was, having spent so much of her life in the dark about her true heritage and always feeling a sense of loss she could never fully comprehend. The knowledge that Targaryen blood ran through her veins had enabled her to finally accept the fire that had always burned within her. She had been concerned as to how she would be received by Queen Rhaenyra as Daemon's bastard but the Queen had been unexpectedly welcoming and kind towards her, requesting that she come to Dragonstone along with her husband. Aeron's ready acceptance of her Targaryen parentage had only made her love him all the more. Daenera tried to channel her feelings of contentment into the Valyrian instructions her father had taught her, as she cautiously approached the dragon in front of her. "Lykiri Silverwing. Lykiri, dohaeris Silverwing" she repeated, one hand outstretched to the silver dragon's snout.

Silverwing huffed out fumes of smoke that warmed Daenera's hand, but the dragon did not stir as Daenera made her way along its length to the ladder which would allow Daenera to mount her. Looking back briefly at Aeron, who was gazing at her with a mixture of concern and awe, she turned back to the dragon with steely determination and began to climb up to the saddle, trying to focus on appearing fearless before the dragon she wished to claim. As she reached the top of the dragon's back and settled herself into the saddle she felt the bond between them fall into place, a bond so pure and so absolute she was sure it could never be broken. Taking hold of the reigns she spoke softly, knowing that Silverwing would obey her order now. "Soves."

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕰𝖓𝖉

Writer's note: if you made it this far you are an actual soldier, thank you so much for continuing till the end :) I've tagged everyone who liked my initial post introing this story, I hope that's OK.

@ithilwen-blackwood @twistytimesandthoughts @im-gonna-love-you-forever @momoko-world @houseofthedragonluver-blog @grandoli14 @bryandechartisasmolbean @theswreties

@thornew @jessie123878 @jinx53 @vanityphantomofhearts @shadowwolf202101blog @hanahb333 @cat0803 @dosx @potato1d-blog1 @shemisseshome @queenhelaenatargaryen1

@courtney0-0 @rvllybllply2014 @atrocic @jacobsmemesibling

#aeron bracken #aeron bracken x oc #aeron bracken x blackwood!oc #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #benjicot blackwood #aeron bracken imagine #aeron bracken oneshot #hotd fanfic #bloody ben #bracken twink #aeron bracken x reader #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd fanfiction #hotd season 2 #hotd #hotd s2

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sylverstorms · 2 years ago

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Daniela x Maiden ---- Hunted Ch.7

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6

Life in castle Dimitrescu, you come to realize, truly is a matter of perspective.

What is a prison to most is but a necessary evil for others and even a home, for a select few. A month ago the notion that a human could find comfort in this kingdom of monsters was incomprehensible to you. Rhiannon and Alexia, here of their own free will, stood completely outside your realm of understanding.

Now… you’re starting to reconsider your black and white point of view.

The daughters are highly dangerous mutants, yes, but they do possess appreciable qualities. Their word, for one, is law.

In the days following your agreement with Daniela, you indeed are given anything you could ever ask for. In return, she only requests for you to keep her company in the evening –mostly just hold her and play with her hair while she reads– for an hour or two before dinner.

It is a fair transaction. Yet, you cannot help but wonder… is that all this is?

Bubble baths and having whatever five-star meals you want prepared, at any time, are a major thing. Unrestricted access to the libraries and the back garden so you can exercise and get your much-needed dose of fresh air, also crucial. But beyond all that… what surprises you the most is that you slowly come to appreciate, just as much as the rest, the time you spend with her.

This strange closeness, it’s… new.

Your entire life, you’ve been on the move. One village after another, never stopping at one place for more than two months, you never had friends, let alone anything more. You didn’t miss it, only because you never knew what it was like to have such a thing in the first place. But now…

You want to deny that you like it when she casually weaves her arm around your elbow as you walk together, when she leans into you, when she lays her head on your lap while reading and demands to be petted like an oversized cat. You don’t want to smile at the way she often will just sit there, pouting and complaining about her sisters, or the weather, or whatever task her mother assigned to her that she finds dreadfully boring.

Tonight, she’s fully immersed in her book, only making the occasional comment about the plot. Well. Whatever ‘plot’ serves as an excuse for five chapters worth of porn later, you muse, glancing down at the sea of crimson sprawled across your thighs.

“Ah, finally he tells her he’s wanted her since the beginning!” she exclaims at one point.

You frown. “Didn’t he, like… sleep with two other girls on his journey to her?”

Daniela pauses for a moment. “Yeah, but that was…” she gestures ‘whatever’ with her hand. “He drank and was missing her and they just reminded him of her.”

“How romantic.” you drawl through no small amount of sarcasm.

“Shh, it’s getting to the best part.” Daniela says and you’re about ninety percent sure you do not want to know what said part entails.

Instead, you choose to focus on the texture of her hair, slipping like silk between your calloused fingers, as well as the general warm serenity of the library. It is easy to forget your troubles in this utter calm, surrounded by books and her vanilla scent. Easy to not think, because if you do you’ll see this as what it is; a pretty illusion that just won’t last.

“Ugh, I love graphic descriptions of abs.” Daniela gives a dreamy sigh after a while. “Those that make you feel like you can actually touch them…”

Your eyes stray to the paragraph in question. Immediately, you regret it. You could certainly live your life happily without ever having read about how the protagonist’s girl is worshiping every deep line and shadowed contour of his ‘stone-hard’ abdominals.

“Your bisexuality knows no bounds.” the comment –and the accompanying eye-roll– were supposed to sound solely in your head. Alas, you hold your breath the second you speak them out loud.

Daniela laughs. She laughs and you try to not think about how cute she looks throwing her head further back and exposing her neck like this.

“Hey, I simply appreciate a fit physique.” It’s the alternate way of saying ‘I drool over any and all muscle.’ “Both in books and here in the castle.”

“Do your sisters know how much you appreciate the physique of their girlfriends?” The words hold no bite to them, just harmless teasing.

Daniela closes the book and looks up at you with a faux scandalized expression. “Me?” she gasps. When it’s clear you’re not buying it, the angel-face grows a devilish smile and imaginary horns. “Let’s just say the girlfriends know I strongly approve of my sisters’ tastes.”

“Mhm.” you nod.

“Naw, don’t be like that, Knight.” she turns and nuzzles into your stomach, then lifts your shirt a bit and presses a lingering kiss to its center. “I like you more.” You feel her lips move against you, cool, soft and moist as she speaks and it makes you hot on the spot.

Then, she decides to shatter whatever is left of your innocence with a tiny, experimental drag of her tongue up your ab crack. Your breath catches in your throat.

Slowly, she smiles to herself as she settles back into her earlier position. “Huh. The book is right, after all. This is pretty fun.”

For the remaining half an hour until she has to get up for dinner, you suffer.

–

You expect Daniela to jump into you from around the corners of corridors in the evening, but you are not quite as prepared in the morning.

So, when it happens, you reflexively bend at the waist and almost flip her over your back. Until the familiar smell of her perfume registers in your brain and allows your shoulders to loosen under the circle of her black-clad arms. You inhale through your nose. Breathe out slowly.

“Seren, Seren, look!” She seems oblivious to the heart attack she damn near caused, pointing to the window like a kid on a sugar rush. “The sun is strong today and the temperature should rise above ten degrees. It’s the perfect time to take me out on a date like you’ve always wanted~”

Your lips flatten to a line that you bite your cheek not to break into a smile. “Like I’ve always wanted.” you repeat dully.

“Isn’t it great to finally get what you’ve been waiting for?” she zooms right in front of you, grinning. “Come on, go dress up.” Her hand motions for you to hurry almost too fast for the human eye to catch. “Go, go.”

This is the whole point of your arrangement, that you both get what you want the moment you want it, therefore it’s not like you can just tell her no. The problem is, seeing her literally buzzing with eagerness to step outside, you don’t think you would deny her anything regardless.

A warmer blouse replaces your white shirt, an ash-gray coat on top of it. You hastily pull a scarf around your neck as you descend the staircase to the main lobby, where Daniela waits by the fireplace, rolling her key around her gloved fingers. She’s dressed exactly as she was the moment you first met in the woods, which makes you pause for a moment, muse on how long ago that day seems now.

Yet it can’t have been that long… can it? For a tense moment, a sense of alarm overthrows your excitement to be outdoors.

Until she grabs your hand and pulls you towards the main gates. The carved iron is made to look much lighter than it is as she pushes it open with one finger. The chilly air that greets your cheeks with a biting kiss does wonders to cleanse your mind of worries.

The two of you walk into the forest. Daniela no doubt knows every nook and cranny like the back of her hand; the certainty of her steps inspires confidence you won’t get lost in all the thick trees and melting snow.

“It feels so good to finally get out of the castle.” she hums, stretching her arms over her head, bathed in the sun’s golden rays.

Judging by the skip in her step, she would be running or flying around, if not for you. Which makes you wonder why she wants you along in the first place. If anything, you only appear to be holding her back. A question you do not voice, when instead you speak up to ask:

“The sun doesn’t bother you?”

“I’m not literally a vampire, you know.” Daniela shrugs. No, she just feeds on blood, sleeps during the day and has superpowers. Your expression must betray your thoughts because she instantly adds “Well. It’s debatable. Although my sisters and I aren’t too fond of the light, the sun is also quite warm, so not all bad. Not like it hurts us in any way.”

“Not like the cold.” you state. It isn’t a question.

She stops in her tracks. Gives you an uncharacteristically firm look underneath the shadows of her hood, one that is both cautious and a warning. “No… not like the cold.”

You won’t lie; you’re surprised she doesn’t deny it. “Why aren’t you fond of the light, then?” you wonder aloud. “Instincts?”

“That, too. But mostly it makes us drowsy. And our eyesight is keener in the dark. Here, it’s like a filter has been pulled in front of me that doesn’t let me see as far.” Daniela explains.

For the next ten minutes, you continue your trudge in comfortable silence. Soon, your destination comes into view; a small waterfall surrounded by rocks and lush vegetation you never even knew existed. A grin spreads across your lips, admiring nature’s beauty at its finest. The village still hides many surprises.

“Knew you’d appreciate this little place.” she comments lightly. For someone you’re supposed to be taking out on a date, it sure feels like the other way around.

Almost without thinking, you kneel by the running water, letting your fingertips dip into its crystalline surface. The frost bites real hard, but it must be a dream to take a bath here during the summer.

I won’t be here come summer. Your chin lowers. If you are, then ‘here’ won’t be nearly as pretty and peaceful. You can’t stay long. Looking up at Daniela, her subtly heterochrome orbs fixed on an orange butterfly that has landed on her hand, you wonder if you can tell her why.

“Life sure is weird.” she whispers. “Can you imagine this beauty comes from something as ugly as a caterpillar?” The butterfly flies away, but Daniela’s irises remain fixed on the spot it used to occupy. “Both are insects. And yet… nobody wants the caterpillar.”

You don’t understand what she’s really referring to –as is often the case with her– although you get the sense her sentence is deeper than a mere observation. Is she saying that beauty defines everything?

Or… is she telling you more than that?

Daniela rubs her gloves together and walks over to you, takes a seat on a nearby rock and leaves enough room for you to join. It is only after you do that you realize she didn’t ask; you simply went to her on your own. What that says, you aren’t sure you want to know. Is it possible to be scared of something and willingly approach it at the same time?

“So… are these mini falls special to you? Do you come here to read under the sun when it’s hot enough?” you inquire.

“No. I don’t come often anymore.” Daniela replies. “I used to find sanctuary in this place a long time ago, though. The steady sound of the water helped me focus my thoughts. For a little while, anyway.”

“Sanctuary?” you frown. From what?

“The first years, the hunger was… maddening. Inescapable frenzy. I couldn’t even think.” Her fingers curl into claws at the recollection. “It was a nightmare. Crazy.” It may be your imagination that her voice wavers. Still, to think a monster would sound so desperate to escape herself… “I have no idea how Bela got it under control as fast as she did.”

You swallow, then ask: “And Cassandra?”

Daniela’s dark-glossed lips press together. “Cassandra’s therapy was clearing this side of the forest of most mammals.”

“From what I gather, this spot isn’t one of happy memories. How come you brought me?” you wonder.

Daniela gives you a borderline guilty look. “Actually… it was Rhiannon’s idea. Said if I came here with you I’d like it a lot better than being on my own. That I could gradually associate it with something nice.” A shrug. “Plus it beats my sisters’ advice for a first date.”

“And that is?” you’re feeling bold enough to ask.

“Between Bela’s extremely specific ‘just don’t be weird’ and Cassandra’s ‘shove her into the nearest empty room, go wild and call it success’... I figured this was better.” Daniela impersonates the other two perfectly and you can’t help but chuckle.

What an oddly normal, bizarre family. you muse, perhaps with not as much venom as you would have, weeks ago. And then, another thought strikes you. Before you have time to consider whether you should voice it or not, you find yourself looking into her strangely pretty eyes, speaking.

“You called the early days a nightmare. …what about before them?” Before the bloodthirst. Before whatever virus turned her into what she is. If she recalls that life as you believe she does, then she must surely miss parts of it.

Unless the butterfly does not remember ever being a caterpillar.

But her expression tells you otherwise.

“Just more… scorched earth.” her voice is distant as she says it. Far away, to whatever messed up reality she made up dreamworlds to escape from.

That settles it, then. Turns out she and you have the most important thing of all in common. She knows what it’s like to live in a bad dream that keeps getting darker. She knows that it’s like to be you.

Maybe you’re the one who doesn't understand what it is to be her.

#daniela dimitrescu x oc #daniela dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil village #fanfiction #creative writing #SylverStorms #in which this story returns from the war #and Dani and Knight grow closer <3 #re8

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carrotcakecrumble · 1 year ago

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Loved the little snippets you’ve shared so far – religious Ralph, that is a deep, deep seam…..Dark Sandy? Yes please!!

And you had to remind me of the Laurie letter fic, I know already I am going to love it and if you are going to tackle the *other* letter, OMG, I need that letter deconstructed, I’m too scared to do it myself.

So, let me see what I'd like more of.....for some reason Ralph rent boy is jumping out at me, can’t think why!

And I’ll have all your young Alec please, for purely selfish reasons.

I take it the rest of your Ralph diaries are not in your WIP folder because they are already in the ‘Ready to publish but going to tease RP a bit longer’ folder 😉

Hssjsg THANK YOU!!!

Ok So a little of the rent boy fic💅:

A black Austin. The letter instructed that if he didn’t know what an Austin was, he was to look out for the smartest motorcar to drive by. A few lines later, there was the more helpful advice to watch out for a motorcar that had ‘Austin’ welded in silver onto the grill. After a long and fretful wait, a car matching the description drew up beside him. With it‘s wheels kicking up a cobbled grey cloud, it gave a rather ghostly impression of emerging from a winter’s fog. A hearse, Dickensian almost, Ralph thought. The smartest hearse to drive by.

It parked, the breaks squawking and shivering away the blanket of smog it had created. Ralph approached stiffly and gave three soft knocks to the driver’s window. A fuzzy silhouette inside jumped, and then collecting itself, staggered the window open. Like an eye refocusing, the colours of the interior emboldened and focussed into what was recognisably the very neat and clean interior of a car. The silhouette, now revealed, became a smart, middle-aged man wrapped up in navy wools, leathers and velvets. He had a rather white face, wrinkled and placid, that looked like it had been knitted together with a few dropped stitches. His hands, whose fingers were creating soft, wave-like taps against the steering wheel, were covered in black driving gloves, the knuckles cut out to reveal the red, scabbed skin underneath.

“Ralph, is it?” A refined and tight voice asked, vaguely northern in vowels but otherwised well-docked into proper, gentleman’s English. It pronounced the ‘L’ in Ralph’s name like it was a hill to be gotten over.

“Yes. You’re—“

“I already know who I am. Get in then, Ralph.”

One of the pre-canon Alec ones👁️👁️:

“What is-s-s your name? If you’ll excuse my unmannerly persis-sis-sistance?”

The sailor glanced over, hard blue eyes framed inside water smoothed cheekbones. Someone like this would usually cost a few bob, easily. He could hardly believe his luck having come across it for free, and so willing, too. Alec pinched the braces onto his trousers, glided them up over bare shoulders and then dropped neatly, hands folded in his lap, onto the edge of the bed.

“Lanyon.” The sailor replied, almost shyly, very much different from how he had been the night before. “You’re a doctor,” he said, as though that was a name enough. Then he leant back against the bed frame, arms folded and spiked upwards like the teeth of a tiara, sliding behind his head, fair hair hinting at colour within the dark like a crown jewel.

“Sometimes. Sometimes I’m-m-m an Alec.”

“Sometimes I’m a Ralph.”

“Ralph. Wuh-well. Ralph, how long are you back on shore?”

Ralph turned his head towards the closed curtains, face split in half from the single streak of morning sunlight, “indefinitely.”

“Ah.” Alec pushed closer to him, “So does-s… that mean you’ll be fr-fr…free later today? For a m-m…meal, perhaps?”

A smile spread on Ralph’s face, slowly and jaggedly, “it might.” They sat for a minute, looking and smiling and looking and smiling. Then just as silently, Ralph bit his grin away, and stared down at the fidgeting hands in Alec’s in his lap.

“I’m not free.” He said, abruptly.

“Doesn’t have to be today—“

“No, I mean. I’ve got someone. A girl.”

“Oh.” Alec shrugged, “with her to-today?”

“No.”

“Then you’re free.”

And then a little alternative one:

“Who is that?”

“That’s— but no— Charlotte he’s with— you know her. Gill. You know her.”

“Oh.”

“Would keep a—“

“—gosh. a ten foot poll.”

“Well, exactly.”

“A shame.”

“Though, between us—“

“Oh, you are terrible!”

“—I’ve heard they’re not exactly Mr and Mrs enamoured.”

“No?”

“He’s a temper and she’s a button pusher. Both miserable and— of course, That’s just between us.”

Alec dropped the cigarette butt into his empty gin glass. If the hiccuped conversation over his shoulder hadn’t been enough, he knew when he was getting the look. Quietly, concealed by clammy pools of dancers, he approached the watching eyes. Whilst drawing near, he snatched a (as far as he could tell) untouched whisky off of a coffee table and gave it a little, revitalising swirl.

“Hullo.” He said, voice loud so as to be heard over the vibrant chatter and steady music, “I thought you looked like you needed—“ he offered out the whisky, watched it as he waited for the response.

“Oh. Thank you.” The drink exchanged hands, warm fingers brushing together.

“You’re with— Gill?”

“Don’t remind me.” The unnamed man threw back his head and downed the drink, at first slowly and with conscious grace, and then without warning, tipped it away with a whippy but firm movement that emptied the entire glass. He held it by his waist afterwards, obscuring a golden pocket watch draped over his waistcoat button. They’d met at half past ten, Alec noted.

“I always come alone to these things.” Alec said, looking up from the clock face into an equally obscured, equally as gilded human one.

“Gill dragged me along…” his face moved as though chewing, as though his thoughts were hard bits of gristle. “I’d like to bloody-well leave alone.”

This made Alec laugh, and on sudden impulse he offered his hand into the narrow gap left between their fronts.

“I’m Alexander. Alec. Just to mention.”

“Ralph.” Ralph smiled, “just to mention.”

(AND YES DW THE OTHER CHAPTERS WERENT INCLUDED because then the post would have genuinely taken 10 minutes to scroll through🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️ they do exist secretly maybe)

#these are old and I know they’re terrible #first draft first draf #blaming it on the first draft dhsks #the charioteer #wip tag game #fic wip

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sc4rleteyez · 2 years ago

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I WANNA WATCH YOU CLOSE (I NEED TO SEE FOR SURE), RINNEY

Finney Blake x Robin Arellano oneshot.

Description: Finney stares for too long.

Robin had come over for math tutoring. They were sitting in Finney’s bed, Robin with his back to the pillows and Finney closer to the edge. Gwen was in Susie’s house and his father was probably at work, so they were alone.

Finney had finished explaining the math problems the teacher had left for homework, and Robin looked at him, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. His gaze was heavy, and he could feel it all the way into his bones. Finney smiled shyly. His chest ached, because he just wanted to scream at him that he loved him, grab his face and kiss him so bad, but what if Robin didn’t like him like that at all?

What if he had just made it all up in his head? a fantasy, a cruel, fake love story. What if Robin thought he was weird, or gross, or sick? To be fair, he himself thought that he probably was. How could a boy have such feelings for another boy? Why did he have to be like that? Why couldn’t he be normal?

And Finney looked away, and his smile dropped. Robin looked at him with such admiration in his eyes, Finney didn’t know if it was just that, or if there was more. More importantly, why. Why did he look at him like that?

What did Robin see in him that was worthy of that look? Finney clenched his fists and dug his fingernails into his palms, leaving small crescent moons.

He had tried his best to shove those feelings deep down, he had really tried. He had cried himself to sleep and then thought he was pathetic for doing so. He was never really that religious, but he prayed for the feelings to go away, and they never did.

He tried looking at the girls, with their soft hair and pink lips, but all he thought was how no matter how soft their hair was, it could never be compared to Robin’s silky, black, long hair. Or how their pink plump lips could never be compared to how soft and kissable Robin’s looked. Every thought started in something, and they always ended in Robin. Always Robin.

He had always thought that romance in movies was probably an exaggeration, but now he knew it was not. The boy who was supposed to be his best friend lived rent free in his head. Every time they were together Finney always got the urge to touch him. To interlace their fingers. To dig his hands in his hair. To connect their lips together.

And God, it was frustrating. Because he couldn’t do any of that. He couldn’t hold his hand or stroke his hair or fucking kiss him. He couldn’t.

And it didn’t help that Robin always got in fights, and every and each time Finney had to take care of him. He cleaned and bandaged his bruised knuckles and he always told him that he had to stop getting into so much trouble. That it wasn’t worth it.

But his best friend always said that it was. Every drop of blood shed was for a reason, though he didn’t always tell him that reason. Every time Finney finished setting the bandages on his scarred hands, he wanted to kiss them. Kiss every knuckle and kiss his palm and the back of his hand and his forehead and his mouth.

He didn’t want to let the other’s hand go, but he always had to. And it didn’t hurt so bad in the end, because Robin always looked at him with that same look and gave him a warm, honest smile and a thank you.

And it was only with him that Robin showed that side of himself. He always acted tough and brave, but not with Finn. Oh, and he called him Finn, not Finney, and he absolutely loved that. It felt special. Intimate. He was the only person who called him that.

Finney was pretty sure he probably had hearts in his eyes now every time he looked at Robin, and he wondered, how could he have not noticed yet? Finney knew Robin wasn’t stupid. He probably already knew and didn’t want to make things weird.

Or maybe he didn’t want to accept it. Or maybe he thought that was just how his friend looked at everyone. But how could that be? He knew it wasn’t that. Maybe there was the smallest possibility that Robin liked him too but didn’t know how to tell him? Or was he waiting for him to confess?

Finney always hated that he was such an overthinker, but he couldn’t help it when there were so many things that could go wrong. Especially when he was in love with his best friend.

“Finn?”

Finney snapped back to reality, and Robin started giggling in his face.

“What?” Finney looked away and asked, his cheeks turning red in embarrassment.

“Dude, you just stared at me for like two minutes!” Robin was now laughing out loud, covering his face with his hands.

“Shut up!” Finney pushed him backwards, Robin leaning now completely on the pillows, their faces mere inches away.

They could hear each other’s breathing as their gazes interlocked. Their eyes were like magnets, attracting the other, keeping the other in place.

Slowly and carefully, as if he was treating with an unknown creature, Finney’s hand reached for Robin’s cheek.

Robin blinked, his eyes never leaving Finney’s. Finney’s heartbeat was like a drum in his ears, his mind yelling kiss him like it was a mantra.

So he did exactly that. He closed the distance, joining their lips together. Robin’s hand flew to the back of his neck, immediately kissing back.

The kiss was soft, tender. Both of their lips were dry, but none of them felt it, too focused on the emotional part. Finney felt like his insides were exploding, he was sure his pupils had turned into hearts and a cloud was surrounding his head.

It was nothing like he had ever imagined. He used to think Robin would kiss like he fought, but it was nothing like that.

The first one to pull away was Robin, his lungs screaming for oxygen. He didn’t go far, his forehead together with Finney’s.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that. I can’t believe you beat me to it.” He murmured and giggled, Finney gigging along.

“I can’t believe I just did that.” They separated, their arms traveling down to hold each other and laid together.

They were quiet, but they didn’t have to say anything. They let their actions speak as they gave small pecks to the other and rubbed figures on each other’s skin.

#rinney #finbin #the black phone #finney blake #robin arellano #no beta we die like robin #sorry #fanfic #i pulled the title out of my ass at the last minute #(a deftones song)#sorry if this is bad #pls tell me what you think

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no-droids · 4 years ago

Text

Out of a Trillion

gif credit: @bestintheparsec

Part Fifteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.6K

Warnings: uhhhh so there is a bit of SMUT in this one, not too much and I imagine if you’ve made it this far then that won’t be too big of a deal LMFAOOO uh some ANGST and my attempt at HURT/COMFORT and also violence/blood/injury description, so look out for that!

A/N: I started writing this before the season finale aired and I know we all want a bit of goodness and softness after it, but hopefully this will be okay! I’ll start working on the next part tonight

***

Everything changes and yet somehow nothing does.

From that point on, it’s like… like you’re both just suspended in this perpetual state of wondering, waiting for the other shoe to drop. You know he said it’s up to you, but what the fuck? Look whenever you want? That’s way too much fucking pressure, he’s out of his mind. You’re not equipped to handle that, who does he think you are? Someone that can just… decide things?

And it’s not like you’re afraid of the commitment, or that you don’t want to look. You do, but every single time a moment comes, it just never… feels right. You don’t know what you’re waiting for, what feeling or meaning you’re expecting to magically present itself to you, but you can’t shake the idea that there should be more to it than just randomly deciding to open your eyes at some point, shouldn’t there? Din said there was no ceremony, nothing fancy, and he gave you permission to look because he said he’s not allowed to ask outright, whatever that means. It’s a standing offer because you guess he isn’t allowed to prompt it for some reason, but unfortunately, that leaves you in just about the shittiest position possible. Now everything falls to you—initiation, execution, and consequence—and Maker knows you’ve never been that great making decisions under pressure.

But you do want to look. Sort of.

Sort of. Because… well, this probably won’t make that much sense, but you’re afraid. Mostly for him. What if he’s making a mistake? It sounds stupid, but you’re afraid of what this means for him, the sheer perpetuity of this decision he’s now expecting you to make for the both of you. This isn’t your creed, not yet, and you feel like there’s still so much to learn. Not only about the Mandalorians and his culture, but about him. To know is to love, and so you’ve taken to asking any nonsensical question you can think of whenever he’s around. Though you weren’t expecting it at first, you’ve learned that he’ll always give you some sort of an answer. Some of the highlights include:

“How old are you?” (“I don’t know. Probably mid-forties, but there’s no way to tell anymore.”)

“You don’t know your birthday?” (No, I… think it was in the winter.”)

“What’s your last name?” (“Djarin.”)

“Do you have any freckles? Or moles, or birthmarks?” (“No, none that I’ve ever noticed.”)

“Do you cut your own hair?” (“Yes, but it’s been awhile.”)

“Do you have dimples?” (“I don’t smile in mirrors.”)

“Are your earlobes attached or detached?” (“What kind of question is that?”)

And so forth.

He also gives you so many fucking opportunities to look. One right after the other. You used to think Din was incredibly trusting with how often and voluntarily he decided to take his helmet off around you—he didn’t wait a single day once he first felt your hands on his skin to take it off in your presence. You remember being blown away by his unexpected willingness to part with it after hearing so many tales of the Mandalorians from Kuill; stunned by the ever-present ability to just open your eyes at any moment and that’s all it would ever take. One simple movement—life-altering, and so easy.

Now you find it nearly impossible, muscle memory just won’t allow it to happen naturally. And yet somehow, avoiding it is like stepping around land mines. He doesn’t trick you—he doesn’t set it up, he doesn’t surprise you or anything, but he’s… less careful. When the kid is awake, Din acts normal—he walks around fully armored, he goes on hunts and returns a few days later with a quarry, teaches you more self-defense techniques in the cleared out hull while the kid watches and giggles at your pain from the safety of his floating crib. But when the baby goes to sleep, he’s taken to lounging with the helmet off. He only used to remove it to eat, sleep, or… do other things with you, but he never used to take it off just… because. Now he does. Now he’s less careful about darkness, less strict about how much light he allows to touch him.

Now he shares every single meal he can with you, sitting just off to the side so you’ll never see him on accident but providing the free exercise thereof should you ever decide to seek it out purposefully. Now he interrupts you in the middle of your complaining about the bruises on your knuckles just to lift the rim of his helmet the slightest bit, lean down and give you a quick kiss, and then lower it back into position again before you can even catch a glimpse of the lips you only recognize by touch. Now he keeps the light on when he goes to take a shower, he leaves the door cracked.

It’s starting to give you heart palpitations, you swear. At one point, he lets you to see the entire back of his head and it nearly launches you into a fucking crisis.

It’s the middle of the night and he just got up from bed to use the restroom. He’s quiet enough not to wake you on the way over, but then across the hull and with his back to you, Din flicks the light on in the small bathroom without closing the door. Immediately rousing you after being so accustomed to the pitch blackness, you lift your head from the warmth of your shared pillow just enough to blearily make out the sight of him leaning a hand up against the wall and dropping his head down, and it takes you a second to realize that it’s actually him.

Soft, dark brown locks ending at his collar but somehow looking longer than you ever imagined when you’ve run your fingers through them. Cascading in shaggy, natural curls—tall, broad shouldered and trim waisted, naked as the day he was born. Your heart starts to squeeze in your chest and it just never stops, and for the second time in your life, you feel like he woke you up in the middle of the night just to show you one of the most beautiful things the universe ever decided to hide. There are trillions of people in this galaxy and how many of them have ever seen a sight that would compare? He’s just a man, you don’t think a single person would bat an eye. But to you, he’s… his own monument. Constructed in honor of everything dazzling that happens to lie just underneath something else. A breathtaking view, even from this angle, that could only ever mean something to you.

Would you ever be able to know him? No, that’s not phrased right. What you mean is that… over the course of all your time together, you remember thinking that if he ever took his helmet off, he could walk right by you and you’d never be able to tell the difference. He could be anybody. There are trillions of people in this galaxy and how many of them have the same features? Brown hair, brown eyes, sunkissed skin that only one person is allowed to kiss, not even the sun. Would you ever be able to know him?

Staring at his back in the blissful silence of hyperspace and feeling like the Maker himself is letting you in on one of his proudest secrets, some wild thought suddenly occurs to you that… you think you would. Somehow.

You can’t explain it and you’d never be able to prove it, but you feel like if you lined up every single person in this galaxy shoulder to shoulder, all however many trillions of them there are, then you could walk the entire length of it and somehow come to a stop right where he’s standing. Every single time. You feel like you could do it in the pitch black. You could do it with your eyes closed.

And, he must just be so gorgeous. Maybe not in a traditional sense (or maybe in one, you’d have no way of knowing), but mostly in just… the rawest sense imaginable. Not like how symmetry and straight lines are gorgeous, but how a mountain is gorgeous. Rocky, dangerous, steep, the product of constant conflict between two immovable sides. He’s got scars littering his body, one of which you remember giving him yourself with a cauterizer on his lower back. He holds himself like his shoulders could tell their own story if anyone ever asked them; built to endure, weighed down and made strong with a collection of burdens he chooses to strap to them, steel or otherwise.

You don’t want to close your eyes once Din slowly turns around to look at you, but it happens anyways and you’ve never been so disappointed in your own cowardice.

But then, in a way, it could just be your own self-preservation instincts taking over. No matter how stunning and life changing the spectacle would be, why would anyone ever stare directly at a supernova? For so long, you’ve told yourself that his face is something you shouldn’t ever see on principle, but in a way, you suppose it’s fair he put this decision on you because he always has, even from the very beginning. He trusted you to keep your eyes closed for months on end and you never had a problem with it, so why is it so hard to open them now that he’s given you permission?

A couple weeks of that, and you start to worry that you’re unintentionally rejecting him.

It’s the last fucking thing you want, but how can you avoid it? Din is… different, he notices. He’s made a living off of finding things that inherently don’t want to be found—he knows all too well what secrecy looks and sounds like, he’s quick and observant and you don’t stand a single fucking chance against him in all the years of his practice.

But strangely, for as often as you feel like you can figure out what he’s thinking without ever seeing his face—realizing what his intentions are ahead of time and not feeling slighted when he phrases things a certain way or just chooses not to speak at all—you never truly realized how much that extended back to you.

He knows you, too. He told you so.

For some reason, you didn’t even consider the possibility of it working just as well the other way around. That you could choose to stay silent, and he’d know why. You feel like the mystery of him just eclipses you in every single way that you don’t consider even yourself much of anything, much less something else to be contemplated and understood. While you wouldn’t necessarily qualify the conflict as not being ready to commit, he seems more than willing to respect it regardless and nothing about the way he treats you or interacts with you changes. Normally you’d say it’s like he forgot the whole thing ever happened, but it’s almost the exact opposite. Like he was just naturally expecting it from you.

Are you truly so predictable, you wonder? He said you’d say no. Was he right? You’re not saying no, you just… can’t remember the word for yes right now. It’s right there on the tip of your tongue and the harder you work for it, the more frustrated you become with your own inability to find it.

But, instead of waiting, you think Din just decides to continue the conversation with the promise to come back to you when you finally figure it out.

Sometimes, especially when he’s gone, you find yourself thinking about what moment you’d choose, if you could. Since you can never seem to find the right one naturally, how would it all go if you could construct everything yourself? Where would it be? Naboo? No, that’s too cheesy. One thing you and Din both have in common is your practicality, your respective propensities for wanting to tackle one thing at a time and not needing frills attached to something in order to find a deep connection to it, a personal value to it. You weren’t even bothered when he didn’t claim you as a girlfriend to Peli, that’s how reasonable you used to be about labels. Now you’re your own antithesis, trying to conjure meaning where there isn’t any just so you don’t feel like you’re the one who’s ripping it away. You want this decision to feel as permanent as it is. You want it to be a happy thing, something that happens when you’re both so in love that you can’t bear to have metal separating you any longer.

You think… you’ll just know it when the time comes.

***

“I have to leave,” comes Din’s hushed voice through the darkness, and even though it’s the first thing either of you have said in hours, it sounds frustrated. Like it’s been bothering him for awhile and he’s just now finally telling you. “I… fuck, I can’t stay here, I should’ve left a long time ago.”

You whine softly into the pitch black, turning your head into the pillow and curling your fingers into his hair. “But it’s still so early…”

“It’s mid-afternoon,” he groans back, dropping his forehead down against your skin and breathing hot air along it. “We’ve been parked here for hours, I don’t know how you can sleep so long.”

“I’m not sleeping,” you pout, before gently dragging your nails down his scalp and feeling his whole body shudder with it. “Earlier I was.”

“Mhm,” he murmurs, leaning down to give you one last long, slow kiss. You sigh when his tongue comes out and glides soft and hot against your lips, tightening your grip on his hair.

But soon he pulls away, lifting the covers from over his head and pushing up from between your spread legs. “This one shouldn’t take long,” he gruffs, planting both palms next to your head and kissing you once more in the darkness, dipping his tongue into your mouth this time. You moan softly and taste yourself on him, moving to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, but he breaks the kiss and leans back before you can, preemptively avoiding the possibility of getting lost in it. “I’ll be back around dawn.”

You’ve known it was coming for hours now, so you’re able to play it off way better this time around. “Okay,” you breathe softly, dragging your palms up his bare chest as he lifts himself tall over your body. The slight disappointment underneath is so masterfully hidden, you’re almost positive you’re going to get away with it. “Be safe. Please.”

But then… well. Bounty hunter.

Din pauses for a moment like that in between your open legs, letting you slowly slide your hands down his ribs and over the lines of his stomach. You wait for him to move, find his clothes so you can get around and make some food, wake the kid up from his nap in an hour or so. Can’t stay in bed all day, no matter how much you wish you could.

Only, he still hasn’t moved and you start to become concerned. “Din?”

But then he suddenly groans like he just can’t help it, grabbing both of your spread legs and easily lifting them up. You make a sound of confusion as he maneuvers them until they’re pressed together and draped over one of his shoulders, and then his hips drop and push forward to slide himself thick and perfect into your blazing hot cunt.

Still drenched and swollen from cumming in his mouth so many times earlier, you gasp and he just groans louder, a ragged thing scraping out of his throat while you struggle through blind and unexpected euphoria to reach him. But you can’t—Din hugs your legs tight to his chest and settles in just like this, turning his head to drag soft lips and a hot tongue over your ankle before he starts fucking you. Right up against your g-spot, with your whole lower body in the way and preventing you from slowing him down.

You just have to clap both hands over your mouth just to keep quiet since you can’t reach him. You feel his teeth sink into the meat of your calf, hips pistoning far beyond your reach and it feels so fucking good that you almost don’t hear his gritted words against your skin.

“I have to go,” he groans, repeating it over and over until his voice begins to pull tight and it just sounds like a plea. “I have to go, I have to go, I h—have to… h-have to go, I have to, I have to, I have…”

***

When Din finally steps foot out of the ship, fumbling with his rifle and cursing quietly through the modulator, it’s the middle of the night some twelve hours later.

***

Steady…

Steady………

Fire.

—and… you blink as bark splinters.

Did you…? You look down at the blaster in your hand and then back to the ginormous charred tree trunk for a few seconds, wondering if you’re just seeing shit.

No, it’s real. You actually fucking did it. You…

… hit the target.

All of a sudden, your ecstatic giggle echoes loudly throughout the foresty autumn wonderland around you, reds and oranges and yellows crunching under your feet while you start to dance.

“Hey! See that, bug!?” You call out, shoving the blaster into your waistband and shimmying up to your enthralled audience of one, who just so happens to be smiling as wide as you are as he’s scooped up into your arms. “I hit the target, I hit the target,” you sing, beginning to sway the baby back and forth as he squeals, laughing while you bounce him. “No demon powers necessary, little man! I figured it out, I just have to use one hand instead of two. You can retire now, you’re the right age for—”

A twig snaps in the distance somewhere to your left, and you quickly spin around while reaching for the blaster behind your back.

Except all you see is a blue Twi’lek standing out amongst all the fall foliage, his hands cuffed behind his back and stumbling a few steps at a time while a considerably taller suit of beskar shoves him forward. You relax and immediately turn to look down at the ground, trying to bite your lip so you don’t smile too hard while they both approach. You did it—finally, you did it, you’re on top of the fucking universe right now.

You wait for them to pass by and move up the open metal ramp to the carbonite chamber, but then Din apparently decides to pause when he’s directly behind you, yanking the quarry to a sudden halt.

You know you should probably turn around to address them, but you can’t hide the happiness from your expression, it’s way too obvious. Though, after a moment, you decide to shyly turn to face the two men while continuing to bounce the baby in your arms, hoping that his and your matching expressions of excitement aren’t too terribly inappropriate right now.

Din looks from you to the splintered bark on the tree, and then back to you again, before slowly tilting the helmet up in a way that feels… proud of you.

“Congratulations,” he finally says, and you can hear the genuine smile hidden in the modulated drawl.

“Thank you,” you beam up at him, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. “Was pretty awesome.”

“I’m sorry I missed it,” he tells you, and you don’t know why, but the tone of his voice makes you go so warm. It’s not like he’s openly flirting with you, but coupled with your giddiness and sounding like that in front of a bounty he caught in record time, it just makes your heart fucking throb for him.

“It’s alright,” you murmur, shuffling your feet through the crunchy leaves below and trying to play it as cool as possible. You have company. “I’ll be able to do it again.”

“Let’s see it, then.” He tips the helmet over at the tree, and you look between him and the unfamiliar quarry for a second, not used to Din just… ignoring their existence entirely for you. It’s not like the Twi’lek has said anything or inserted himself into the situation at all, but still. Din has one hand latched onto the cuffs behind his back to prevent him from booking it, but other than that, it’s like he’s pretending he’s not even there.

“Uh…” You immediately feel yourself get nervous. “I can… try.”

He nods one single time in silent encouragement, and you slowly turn to face the tree once more. The kid stays cradled in your arm while you reach for the blaster in your waistband, removing it and using your longest finger to flick the safety off with a practiced fluidity. Then, extending it out in front of you and taking advantage of your newfound strategy of only firing with one hand, you line up the sight and pull the trigger.

You wish you could say it hits. It would be so fucking cool and impressive if you hit the target like that, wouldn’t it? But it doesn’t hit. It misses, like usual. Miserably. And then an amused snort comes from behind you.

“Right stormtrooper, you are—” you hear an unfamiliar accent begin to snark, but the rest of it turns into a garbled howl the second Din jerks his elbow back to slam it in his face.

You whip around just in time to see a cascade of blood pouring down blue lips and sharp teeth—holy fuck. You gasp and take a step backwards with the kid, not horrified by the sudden display of violence (not after Din spent an hour teaching you how to do that, too) but not quite expecting it at that moment, either. But then, well… that’s the second time he broke a quarry’s nose for addressing you with disrespect. There was that other one he choked, you’re pretty sure—though you can’t remember exactly what initiated that.

Din yanks the bounty up the ramp without another word, leaving both you and the kid there to process while he shoves him through the hull and towards the carbonite chamber none too kindly. However, by the time he seals the quarry to his fate and eventually makes his way back to you, you just…

Fuck, you feel so stupid.

You shouldn’t even bother, what’s the point? All that practice and nothing to show for it. If you can’t even hit a stationary target with the pressure of others watching, what makes you think you’ll have any hope at all in a situation where you actually need to shoot? Are they gonna stand still for you? Are they gonna be as wide as a fucking treetrunk? You’re horribly embarrassed, so downtrodden in the face of a cruel taunt that you don’t even want to look at Din when he steps in front of you.

“Hey, just try it again,” he says without delay, but the damage has already been done. It’s not his fault, you’re just… not the kind of person who is meant to shoot a blaster, maybe.

“Ah… it’s alright,” you look out and smile sadly at the line of trees surrounding you, wondering how it’s possible that you only managed to hit one of them this whole time. You don’t see it, but Din quickly touches the tips of his fingers to the side of his helmet twice before you look back at him. “I hit it earlier. I did, I promise. You can see the mark if you look.”

His glove reaches out to brush your hair back, so unbelievably gentle after using the same arm to shatter bone just a few minutes ago. “I know you did. It was a perfect shot, you hit dead center. I see it.”

“I did it with one hand, that’s why I tried the thing,” you mumble stupidly, looking down at your feet. Dumb. Dumb.

A strand of your hair is tucked behind your ear. “Wish I was here.”

You glance over at him, feeling your expression suddenly go soft with a wave of affection. It stops all the harsh criticisms, halting your negativity in its tracks and replacing it with just… soft, abstract things. Mostly just warm, nonsensical fluff, but one clear and resounding thought breaking through. You wish he was here, too.

“Maybe I’ll get good at it eventually,” you sigh, slowly handing him the blaster with the barrel pointed down and away from both of you. Din carefully takes it from you, tucking it away somewhere on his utility belt while you gaze out at the designated target and victorious char mark decorating it. “Or hopefully just okay at it at some point. I guess I just need to practice more, right?”

“That’s right,” he tells you warmly, catching your free wrist. “Try using this one when you do.” And then a lightweight piece of metal is gently pushed into your empty hand.

Your expression furrows while you quickly look down at it, and—

You go utterly still at the gift, not even knowing what to think.

The first thing that you notice is the craftsmanship. Brilliant, structurally flawless, the perfect size to fit your hand. You don’t recognize the specific kind of metal that was used—definitely not beskar—but you think it might be constructed from the same material as Din’s old armor. Dull silver, but with reflective chrome filigree accents around the handle, trigger, and safety. It’s uniquely constructed and unlike any weapon you’ve ever seen before—no hard lines or edges, just a soft fluidity to the design that’s so aesthetically pleasing, it doesn’t really even resemble a blaster at all.

You can feel the visor silently studying your reaction while you continue marveling, noticing something new every time you look. The safety is towards the back of the chamber, just like he said it’d be. The sight is electronic, and you examine the way it’s built directly into the barrel.

Are those extra magnets on the inside? Is this able to micro-adjust the plasma release for the best shot? Holy stars, it must have cost a fortune.

“Din, this is…” you can’t decide where you want to look—the gorgeous crafting, the custom design, or him. Standing so close to you, not saying a word while you search for the right ones. “It’s so beautiful, I…”

“Was made for you,” he murmurs. “Had to be.”

You look back down at the blaster to stop your eyes from tearing up. He didn’t have to do this. This is so… sweet, such a lovely thing to do. Don’t cry, don’t cry—

“What is this?” You ask breathlessly instead, rotating the gun until he can see the symbol branded on the handle. You recognize that it’s his signet, but you never bothered to ask him what it’s called, you never saw it as your place. It’s an animal of some sort, one with a giant spike attached to its skull, and you’re glad you’ve never come face to face with one.

“It’s a mudhorn,” he answers quietly. “They’re… dangerous animals. Fiercely protective, preferring solitude. The kid saved me from one a few days after I met him. It’s… the mark of my clan.”

How fitting, you think, and an honor. Perfect for him, and a bone-deep reminder of your two favorite people in the galaxy on your hip wherever you go.

“Thank you,” you tell him, hoping the sincerity in your voice sounds anywhere close to how you feel. You haven’t even had it in your hand for longer than a minute and it’s already your prized position, the most important thing you’ve ever called yours.

Din nods and takes a small step back. “Now hit the target.”

Feeling invigorated and renewed in every single way, you keep the kid tucked firmly in one arm while raising your blaster with the other. The safety clicks off and your back straightens, chin lifting until something about the angle feels… right. The trigger moves easily under your fingertip, and there’s almost no kickback considering how light the weapon is. What you’re not expecting is the pure white beam of plasma shooting out of the barrel—unlike any blaster you’ve ever seen before—but then the immediate sight of it hitting the tree dead center sends a roar of triumph through your ears. Fuck yes.

“Look at that!” Din calls out over the kid’s happy squeal, and there’s nothing you can do to stop your loud whoop of victory. Even though you know it only hit with the addition of those extra magnets to correct your terrible aim, that still feels so good—you feel so fucking powerful and dangerous. You glance over to Din with a wide smile, but then his arm extends out towards the trunk directly next to the one with charred bark. “Hit that one.”

You automatically swing the blaster in that direction and shoot. A few pieces of wood split on impact and send sharp bits flying as soon as the bright white beam collides with it.

“That one,” Din tells you, and then bark splinters a half second later. “That one.” Bark splinters. “That one, that one, that one—” hit, hit, hit, white plasma flying through the air and bark splintering in rapid succession.

He stops and spins around, pointing to a tree at the very edge of the clearing. “That one?”

It’s furthest away but the trunk’s diameter is enormous. As you lift the blaster, you know you’re likely to get it easily with this sophisticated weapon, even across the considerable distance. So instead, feeling like nothing at all can touch you right now and wanting to see how smart the aim mechanism is, you raise up a few degrees higher before pulling the trigger. Pale plasma launches from the barrel, and then one of the tree’s most prominent branches comes creaking and crashing to the ground right where you split it.

You’re beaming by the time Din turns back to you, the most excited you’ve ever been with your own progress. He holds there for a moment while you lower your blaster and wait for him to speak, both of you looking at each other and not moving, until suddenly you hear his voice coming back to you.

Hit the target and I’ll marry you.

One of Din’s hands slowly comes up to the edge of his helmet, but before you can even process the implication behind the gesture, you’re immediately looking down at the crunchy leaves under your feet and clearing your throat.

There’s a beat of silence where you stare down at the dead foliage and wonder why the fuck you just did that. Right in front of him, right to his face, too startled at how quickly you were being confronted with the possibility that you responded in an equally startled way. It was instinctual, automatic and entirely out of your control, but that doesn’t mean you don’t want to take it back.

But… you can’t take it back. That’s the way things are, and after a few moments, you hear his boots begin to cross the distance to you.

“Come on,” Din murmurs gently through the modulator, carefully taking the blaster from your hand and clicking the safety back on again. “We have to get going. The fifth quarry is far. Three day trip through hyperspace.”

He doesn’t sound upset or disappointed by your unintentional rejection, thank the Maker. You want to explain yourself somehow, but it appears it isn’t necessary in the slightest. His arm wraps around your lower back and he leads both you and the baby back up the open ramp of the Crest, squeezing you close enough to his side that you have to learn how to walk in a different way to stop yourself from tripping over his boots.

The helmet turns and presses to the top of your head while you focus on moving straight. “Proud of you,” Din murmurs quietly, and your chest fills with enough air that you’d be worried about floating away if he wasn’t latched onto you so tightly.

He eventually releases you and walks over to the armory, pressing a button to unlock the doors while you hold the kid and watch him start to remove the multitude of weapons strapped to his body.

Maybe… maybe this isn’t the right time, but something brave surges up inside you. After receiving the most precious gift imaginable from him, hitting all those targets and hearing him say that he’s proud of you, you’re buzzing with just enough energy that for better or worse, it makes you open your mouth and ask.

“Could I… come with you this time?”

Din nearly jerks upright and looks over at you immediately, but he takes a while in responding. You hope he sees it in your eyes. You hope he sees just how much you don’t want to be stuck here again when this is possibly the one time you’d be able to tag along. It’s a bullshit quarry, one he could do in his sleep, and you’ve been getting increasingly restless while stuck on this ship.

When Din eventually does respond… well, judging from his shift in tone, you’re assuming he was just shocked at the question and didn’t take any of that time to actually consider his answer.

“No.” Short. Unfeeling, and not sorry about it in the slightest, before turning back to return the blasters you were using previously to the armory as if you said nothing at all.

Okay… Um. Not great, not what you wanted to hear, but maybe if you explain yourself better, he’ll listen.

“I just… I’m the only reason you have to get this quarry in the first place.” Your voice is quiet, trying to let go of some of the concerns you’ve kept to yourself over the past two weeks. Your fingers fiddle idly with the kid’s little woolen sack as he hangs out in your arms, wanting to plead your case but feeling slightly nervous now. “You were out having a crazy expensive blaster made for me while I shook hands with Karga and agreed that you’d take more work for less pay. I hate that I did that.”

“You had no choice,” Din mutters, turning around and striding past you while pressing a button on his vambrace to close the Crest’s ramp. “My fault for being late.” And… for as warm and comforting as his voice sounded earlier, it now just sounds… dismissive. Aloof. Half-listening, not really wanting to talk but forcing himself to.

“Well this time, I thought maybe… I might be able to help? Maybe?” Maker, you feel yourself going quieter the more he walks around the hull and ignores you. “Karga said it was just a missing person, not even a criminal…”

“Karga says a lot of things,” he grunts with his back to you, voice completely monotone through the modulator.

Come on, speak up. You’ve lacked a backbone for so long, you’ll never get what you want unless you say it out loud and let it be known. You take a deep breath and straighten your shoulders, trying to put a little bit of spine into it. “I can be useful. I can fight now, I’ve been working on my—”

“You think I’m telling you no because I don’t think you’re capable?” He suddenly whips around, voice ringing sharp and challenging throughout the hull while you freeze. You don’t move but everything about you suddenly feels like it shrinks.

“I-I didn’t—” But he cuts you off, taking a step forward.

“I know you can fight, a Mandalorian taught you how. I know you’re useful, I know it’s just a missing person, and I know you hate it when I leave.” He pins you with his eyes through the visor, his tone harder than you think you’ve ever heard it before. “No. Your job is to stay here, on this ship, with my son, where it is safe, and my job is to go get the quarry. Quit asking. I’m not telling you again.”

The baby makes a tiny little distressed sound in your arms and you blink a few times up at the cold metal, feeling all the good feelings from before just… drain out of you.

Okay, that’s fine. Uh. You… the cockpit is behind you, you’ll go up there and fly then. No reason, just… he should get going.

“Okay, yeah,” you nod and tell the wall over his shoulder brace in immediate agreement, before abruptly spinning around and grabbing the ladder. Din doesn’t move a single fucking muscle while you try to find your way up to the cockpit with the baby held to your chest and a dead stone sitting heavy inside of it, hoping your face doesn’t show the vulnerability you feel wanting to take over as you retreat. Get to the cockpit first, get to the cockpit first, get to the—

“Sweet girl, I…” you barely hear murmured through the helmet from the floor, soft enough to sound slightly shocked, but you scramble into the cockpit and shut the door behind you before he can say anything else.

***

Silence didn't used to feel like this.

At first it was eerie, unnatural and stifling when you spent years in a wide open desert, wind swirling and dust pelting. It suffocated you the first few times you jumped into hyperspace, a phenomena you read all about and considered mathematically fascinating before ever experiencing for yourself. It was… foreign and strange, but you began to value it more and more as time passed.

Then, you started to get to know him and silence just became comforting. Something you could bask in, knowing it was a comfort to him. A choice he made because it just fit him best. You felt safe in it, you felt like you didn’t have to be anything else but you. You never had to break it just to avoid awkwardness, you became… closer to it, until you learned to fall in love with it.

But only when he was with you and it was his silence. Not… everything else’s. Now it’s haunting again. Now the sheer lack of sound through hyperspace is a stranger to you, and the distortion of light surrounding the cockpit feels less about the sheer magnificence of manipulating space time and more about the fundamental disconnect it causes. Gorgeous, but at its core, a severance. Ripping the fabric of the universe apart, tearing a wound in it.

It’s been a few hours and nothing exceptional has happened since your conversation in the hull.

You’ll admit that you’re a sensitive person, and because of that, you’ve always had a problem knowing if you were right or wrong when someone comes at you with a hard enough will. You second-guess yourself, it’s one of your worst traits, and you feel like trying to squash that tendency without knowing the limit is partially to blame for why you’re holed up in this cockpit with the kid. You’re quiet but in a different way from Din. When he doesn’t speak, it’s because most of the time, he’s sure of himself and doesn’t need to. When you don’t speak, it’s because most of the time, you’re insecure and don’t want to.

After being left alone with your thoughts for this long, you’re starting to realize that… he was right. What were you thinking, wanting to tag along? Wanting to hang out while he risks his life for this occupation, you probably sounded so fucking ignorant. Maybe… maybe he didn’t have to say it like that, but his point is still very valid and you’re not sure if you’re really justified in hiding like this anymore.

The way he said… your job, though. That still stings a bit. This hasn’t felt like an actual job in a very long time. Was that just an expression, or did he mean it literally? You’re stuck on it, you’ve just been going over this for hours in your head, trying to figure out if you should be the one to apologize or not—or if this is just you overreacting from the start and no apologies will be necessary at all.

“Sorry you got stuck with me, kid,” you mutter sadly to the baby, watching him fiddle with his favorite metal ball in your lap. He makes a little gurgle, purring in that weirdly adorable little way of his and it somehow feels like a reassurance directed to you that he’s just fine the way he is.

Maker, you haven’t heard anything from the hull in a fucking eternity; it’s like Din turned into a ghost, hasn’t even made a single footstep that you could hear since you last left him standing there. You remember performing a quick flight check as soon as you got up here, lifting off as fast as you could and hoping the thrusters would rumble loud enough to cover your series of pitifully shallow sniffles at being yelled at unexpectedly by a very large and intimidating man, not really crying but not really able to breathe normal either. The little monster was able to wiggle himself around in your lap as you were trying to punch in the correct coordinates for the fifth quarry with rapidly blinking, watery eyes, and then proceeded to give your belly the smallest hug you think you’ve ever been given and pretty much break your heart with it.

Lovely little boy, so sweet when he wants to be. He’s sat with you this whole time, he even tried giving you his metal ball to play with but ultimately decided to keep it to himself when he realized you aren’t nearly as fascinated by it as he is. You know it’s probably getting late for him, and you’ve been weighing the idea of handing him over to his father so he can at least get a good night’s sleep somewhere that isn’t your arms. There’s no blankets in here, just your lap.

“I think I gotta go take you to your dad soon, tiny. He’s probably missing you,” you tell him, trying to keep quiet enough that you won’t disturb Din in the hull. There’s a good chance he’s already asleep. “I think… he might still be mad at me. Maybe you can give him the big eyes, soften him up a little?”

Right on cue, his enormous eyes start to droop closed, and you let out a tired sigh of exasperation. That’s not gonna work, come on. They gotta be open, booger.

You watch him slowly drift to sleep, his ears relaxing until they too start to droop, but when you try to take the ball from him and set it down on the console, his eyes immediately pop back open and the toy slips from your fingertips. It levitates right back into his tiny hands as you watch, and then he closes his eyes once more while tightly cuddling the thing he loves most to his body.

Unbelievable.

He’s a child, and yet he’s…

“How are you so strong?” You ask him, unable to even fathom. “You’re the smallest, most helpless little thing I’ve ever seen and you’ve got such… strength. You defy the universe for a piece of metal.”

He doesn’t hear you, you think he’s asleep again. It’s just as well, you figure. He needs to go sleep in his crib, it’s time. You scoop him up and make sure the little ball stays tucked snugly in his arms, before finally standing up and stumbling over to the door on numb legs.

Only, when it slides open, you quickly stop short.

Because there, sitting on the floor and resting his helmet against the corner of this small little platform leading to the ladder, is the Mandalorian.

So much closer than you expected him to be. So big, crammed into such a tiny place. You didn’t hear his footsteps climbing the ladder, and you would’ve noticed it during the hours you’ve spent in the suffocatingly muted quiet of hyperspace. He can be silent but not when absolutely nothing else exists and he’s got a thousand fucking pounds of steel weighing him down at any moment in time. You took off almost immediately once you barricaded yourself inside the cockpit, so has he… did he follow you up in those last few seconds, right after you shut the door? The ones when you were sniffling like a child and trying desperately to turn the thrusters on before you let the tears come?

His head lifts and his back straightens as you’re looking down at him with his sleeping son cradled in your arms, your eyes slightly redder than they should be. You’re a mess and… he’s been here this whole time?

“Could you hear me in there?” You whisper in sudden mortification, but Din just keeps gazing up at you through the impenetrable metal visor. A complete mystery again. Unreadable—he could be anyone.

When he doesn’t answer you, your heart twists with the possibility that he’s still upset with you, and you quickly turn to the ladder to figure out the best way to get down without jostling the baby.

“I’m sorry.” His voice stops you dead in your tracks. It’s so soft, nearly flipping in and out of the modulator from the lack of volume, the most cautious sounding thing you’ve ever heard coming through the filter. “I… hurt your feelings. I’m sorry.”

And… Maker, if anybody else had said it. If literally anybody else had said it, you know it would’ve sounded like the most sarcastic, dickish remark in such a delicate moment. But, you also remember him telling you once that you were tenderhearted. That the galaxy would never be as kind to you as you are to it. This… comes out sounding like he’s trying to change that.

It comes out sounding like he’s trying to use his voice to hold you because he doesn’t think you want to be touched right now. Like… like he’s doing everything he can to be as careful as possible here because you think he might be attempting to do something he’s never done before. Apologize for saying something he didn’t mean.

“You don’t have to,” you quickly tell him. He’s not good with words and apologies are difficult enough to phrase for normal people, you don’t want him to fret over it if that’s what this is. “It’s okay, I know you’re not… you don’t have to. It was stupid of me to ask.”

“It wasn’t,” he instantly counters, his voice finally seeming to find the floor when it was just hovering before. Not loud—still gentle, still making sure the kid doesn’t wake up and you’re not frightened away, but a bit more grounded this time. “It wasn’t… what I wanted to hear, and I didn’t take it well. Not stupid.”

“It was stupid,” you return amicably, looking down at your feet. “That’s not my… job, like you said.”

Din suddenly hangs his helmet down to his chest, pressing his gloves to the part that curves over his forehead and rubbing it. “Shit. I didn’t mean—”

“You were right,” you acknowledge, having spent the past few hours coming to the understanding that it’s the hard truth and he just phrased it poorly. “I’m not… built for it, I’d only get in your way. I barely just managed to shoot stationary targets with a blaster today, and that’s only with that aim corrector built into the barrel. I’m here to be helpful, not—”

“What are you saying?” He suddenly lifts the beskar to study you, sounding genuinely confused. “What aim corrector?”

That… makes you pause.

“The, uh…” Now you’re confused. “The one that adjusts the plasma release on the gun you gave me.”

He doesn’t move an inch or say a single thing to you in response and you awkwardly shuffle your feet for a second, everything so quiet that you can hear every little snore that goes in and out of the kid’s tiny button nose.

You blink at him after way too long of that, not knowing why he still hasn’t said anything. “There’s an electronic sight and like a bazillion extra magnets packed into the barrel, Din, what else could—”

“Sweet girl, that’s… that’s for the Philithiorium,” Din breathes out, like he’s absolutely blown away by you right now. “That gas is less stable than normal canisters, it takes more magnets to focus the white beam without overheating the metal.”

You stare at him, not truly processing. He’s saying that… you made all those shots today without any help at all? By yourself?

Your eyebrows furrow and you blink a few times, but then his slow, heavy sigh echoes throughout the metal walls with disappointment… and you don’t think it’s directed towards you.

“You’re just… always so unsure of yourself.” He sounds genuinely distraught as his helmet tips down to look at the ground. “I made that worse today.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you quickly shake your head, your chest already beginning to loosen slightly by just being around him, hearing his voice, seeing the metal glint under the fluorescent light overhead when he’s in such a vulnerable position on the floor. “It’s okay, let’s just… pretend neither of us said anything at all, okay?”

“Is that what you really want?” He asks you after a moment of quiet, and for some reason, you hear something in your mind tell you that his arms look so nice right now, don’t they? You could fit right there, perfect and safe again.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you smile at him, feeling a bit of the ache trapped inside you continue to work itself out little by little. You’ll be back to normal soon, it’s fine.

“No, I mean… do you really want to come with me?” Din asks you, the words sounding cautious. Confused, like he truly never expected the proposition from you at all. “Or… do you just not want me to go?”

Oof, what a fucking question.

Why would he ask this? It’s not pointed; it’s the softest, gentlest inquiry you’ve ever been posed. Maybe in other circumstances, you’d say that him leaving doesn’t have anything to do with it, but… you’re certain that internally, it absolutely does have at least something to do with it and he was just able to know it before you did. Which is probably why his sharp words seemed all the more cutting earlier. It hurt because he said the truth first, verbalized a very deep insecurity you’ve been trying to hide from him and threw it right in your face when shutting you down.

Though, if it worked differently and you were the one who had to be away while he stayed here, you’d like to think you’d handle it way better than how it is now. At least you’d have a real mission to focus on, new things to see and experiences to have. You just feel… confined sometimes.

You take a deep breath and figure you’ll use sitting down as an excuse to think for a second. There’s practically no room but you find it in the back of the cockpit near the doorframe anyways, doing your best to keep the kid level while you slowly lower yourself to the ground near him. Not touching him, but close.

“I just… I lived my whole life stuck in one spot, wanting to see the galaxy,” you finally admit to him, staring at his chestplate but seeing the helmet tilt slightly in your peripheral. “Sometimes it’s just… hard to see the galaxy and still be stuck in one spot, I guess.”

“…You want an adventure,” Din proposes quietly, and though there’s not a single hint of mockery in his voice, you suddenly feel like it’s really fucking dumb when he phrases it like that. What are you, an eight year old? Wanting to go on an adventure, see things you’ve never seen without any concept for real life? Credits? Time? Resources?

You shrug a shoulder to make it seem like it’s no big deal. Why is he even entertaining this right now? “It’s stupid, I kn—”

“Like on Naboo,” he goes on, ignoring your harsh self-criticism, not allowing you the ability to even get it out once he heard the first couple words. “Going through the forest, seeing that waterfall. Someplace to find for yourself. Explore. Experience.”

You… you want it so badly that you think your eyes might tear up just hearing the words coming out of his mouth when he says them like that. Like he… just inherently understands. He knows.

He knows you. He’s not good with words and yet he found the single most succinct way to put what you thought was a complex yearning without even trying. You can’t even answer him, he hit the target dead on and you’re left with nothing to say that wouldn’t just be a miserable lie.

“Okay,” Din says after a moment, giving you a small nod.

You’re lost now. “…Okay?”

“You’re never going on a hunt with me,” he tells you very seriously, no room for arguing. “Ever. And not because you can’t handle it, understand?” He inhales, quickly adding on to his response before you’re able to analyze it the way you want to. “But if you want an adventure, then… I can try and find a way to give you one.”

Stars. He’s… too kind. You somehow feel like it’s more than you deserve. You were honestly hoping to just shadow him on a hunt, watch him work and stay well out of the way when he needs you to. Helping if you think you’d be of any help; an extra set of eyes and hands. You would’ve been fine even if he didn’t apologize for raising his voice at you, he doesn’t have to do this for you.

“Thank you,” you say for the third time today, feeling like each one has somehow multiplied in sincerity.

“It can’t be right now,” he quickly tells you, apologetic but earnest about it. “I have to find the quarry, and I’m supposed to meet with Karga again in a week.”

You never did let him know about the other part of the deal you made with Karga, you admit. Four pucks, no hassling, no hard time constraints. That’s what you shook on, but you just never found a way to bring it up to Din. Especially since you’ve been so preoccupied with hiding your growing disappointment from him whenever he has to go.

“If…” you pause, wondering the best way to phrase this. Yikes, this is a toughie. “Um. If Karga… I don’t know, hypothetically, if Karga decided to loosen the time constraints back to the way they were before the Corellian bounty, would you… still need to meet with him again in a week?”

You don’t think he even bothers shuffling through all those words. “Say what you mean. Please.”

“That was part of the deal I struck with him,” you quickly explain. “You can hunt on your own timetable again and he’ll keep giving you four pucks like before, no more or less after this one extra quarry. It’s like a… replacement of sorts, for the one I kept you from getting the time before. If credits aren’t an issue, you can take more than a week. But only if you want to, you don’t have to. It’s just there and you should know, that’s all.”

He takes his time responding, lifting his helmet just the slightest bit in… surprise? Maybe?

“You never told me you did that,” Din finally murmurs.

“Ah. Well.” You look down at the sleeping kid in your arms. “I didn’t want you to think I was trying to… keep you here.”

It genuinely is a struggle for you, and you think he’s just now realizing that. As much as you know he gets frustrated with you for always wanting him to be here when he physically can’t be, you think it’s only now that he’s truly realizing the lengths you go to in order to stomp that part of you down whenever you feel it threatening to come up. You allowed him to leave every single time without telling him he could stay, knowing that all that was left for you was babysitting and target practice for days on end.

“Will you come over here?” Din finally asks, and the tone of his voice just punches you in the chest. So soft, so distressed from having you so close yet so far from him and just… full of a quiet hope, like he’s fully expecting you to say no.

“Will we fit?” You whisper after a moment, even quieter.

He doesn’t answer, he just reaches for you. You do your best to scoot over to him without waking the kid, and then Din pulls you the rest of the way once he has a grip. You go right into his arms, laying sideways across his lap and supported by his steel embrace.

Oh, it’s not comfortable but you’ve also never been more fucking comfortable. One of his knees lifts and allows you to rest your back against it without worrying about falling over sideways and down the ladder to the hull, thank the Maker. The beskar pauldron over his shoulder digs into your cheek, but Din immediately pushes an arm up to nudge his helmet off and make it better for both of you. Your face automatically fits into the crook of his neck while he sets the beskar on the bend of his knee, and then he silently cradles you while you do the same to his little boy… who does the same to his favorite metal ball.

“Ni tar’tayl su,” he murmurs into your hair, the one phrase in Mando’a you do recognize, especially with how beautiful and elegant it sounds rolling off his tongue. “Forgive me. Ni ceta.”

You sigh your contentment and melt into him, well aware that you’d still be more comfortable in bed. But when you’re pressed hard against his chest like this and the baby is fast asleep in your arms, you get to feel both of them breathing. Din’s right lung is probably bigger than the kid’s whole entire body, but you like the radically different cycles they go through. You think you count six full breaths coming from the brown sack in your palms for every one of Din’s and two of yours. It creates the most beautiful little symphony that sometimes gets a little off track, but always finds its way back around again.

“How do you say…” You ask, feeling his hand slowly move down the curve of your spine, mindless and hypnotic. It catches the edge of your shirt and goes underneath, and even though it’s not his bare hand and there’s no skin to skin, it still feels so good. Not sexual or sensual even, just… a comfort to you. “In Mando’a, how do you say… out of a trillion?”

Din’s breaths pause for just a second, his portion of the synchronized rhythm faltering. Soon it starts back up, and his head turns to press his lips against your hair.

“I don’t think there’s a word for it,” he admits, gently brushing a thumb across the baby’s forehead while he snoozes. “There could be, but I don’t know it. I’d use… out of a million million millions. Dayn alanyc bal alanyc bal alanyci.”

Your eyes begin to drift closed, exhausted from keeping them open after shedding a few tears earlier. Your first fight and you’re already completely in love with him again after a handful of hours of sulking and one conversation. How is that possible? You’re normally a very forgiving person and it wouldn’t have taken much to make you feel better, you just never expected him to… actually want it from you that badly, care enough about it to get on the floor and ask.

Din doesn’t move the entire night through. You assumed he’d make everyone get up at some point and move to the hull, but he doesn’t. You fall asleep against his chest, comforted by the silence once again.

***

The next morning, Din quietly climbs into the cockpit while you’re humming in the shower. You’re too busy basking in the indoor rainfall to feel the ship pull out of hyperspace, and then jump back into it a few moments after.

***

“How long do you think you’ll be this time?” You ask two days later, sitting on the extended flattop of Din’s old cot and swinging your legs back and forth. The baby is currently sitting on your lap and trying to roll the metal ball down your knee so you’ll kick it in the air, you think, because he keeps dropping it at different moments and forcing you to stop moving your legs to prevent accidentally denting a wall. Every time the ball clatters to the floor, he makes a sad sound and it immediately lifts back up into his tiny hands for another try.

Heavy boots clang against the metal floor as Din drops down from the ladder, having just landed the Crest on the surface of whatever planet you’re on. “I’m not leaving yet.”

“Oh…” You blink, surprised. “Okay.”

“I wanted to do some more training with you first, if that’s okay. You can say no if you want, but maybe not,” Din drawls, striding over to the armory and opening it. He carefully removes your blaster from the front shelf, speaking with his back to you. “You’re going to run.”

“Um.” You take a moment to glance around the enclosed hull, before turning to look back at him with your eyebrows raised. “What, like… in place?”

Din sighs and closes the armory before leaning back against the doors, rubbing the face of the helmet in exasperation. “From me, sweet girl.”

Your legs stop swinging, and the baby grumbles and slaps three fingers against your knee. “What?”

“We’re on Sanctuary II,” he explains, turning to grab his black bag from one of the storage shelves. He unzips it and reaches back into one of the larger pockets on his utility belt, before grabbing a handful of credits and stuffing them inside. “It’s a moon, the New Republic occupied it years ago and made it a safe world for refugees and orphans of the Empire. You’ll have your blaster, some credits, a communicator, and a day head start. You’re going to run from me. Show me how much you’ve learned.”

Is… he for real?

Right now? You don’t even know how to respond, you’re too surprised. Even when Din approaches and carefully trades the kid for your blaster, setting the bag down next to you on the metal bed, you still haven’t answered him.

“If you want?” He asks after a moment, and you quickly jerk your head into a nod and jump off the raised platform, almost knocking into him with your sudden excitement.

“Okay! Fuck yeah,” you grin, but Din shakes his head.

“Rules,” he says seriously, and you quickly do your best to frown, trying to compose your thrilled expression to match his tone. “One. This is a safe world, but things can always happen. You have a blaster now, but it’s for emergencies only. Do not shoot me with it. Do you understand?” You nod, but Din reaches forward to grab your elbow. “Out loud, please. For me.”

“I will not shoot you with this blaster,” you vow obediently, carefully cradling the precious firearm in your hands.

“Do not shoot me,” he repeats while pointing a leather finger at you. “Do not… shoot at me. Near me. Around me. No, just—don’t shoot. Unless I am… very far away. Okay?”

Well, he didn’t have to phrase it like that. You frown, but acquiesce regardless. “I will only resort to blastering if it’s an emergency and you are not around.”

He nods a thank you for putting it into better words. “Second rule. Since you don’t have a ship, I won’t either. We’re on foot. I don’t doubt you can hotwire a piece of junk to do what you need it to do, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t. Good?”

Entirely accurate and entirely fair. “Good.”

“Three,” he says. “I’ll have the kid with me, which is both good and bad news for you. Good news is he’ll slow me down, bad news is I can’t promise he won’t also try to intervene at some point if you’re serious about putting up a decent fight. What I can promise is that I won’t encourage it.”

“Reassuring,” you nod. “Also not really a rule. Please continue.”

“Four.” He pauses for a second. “I think I’m wanted by the New Republic.”

You nearly jerk back. “What?”

“I can’t confirm it and I’m not proud of it,” Din quickly tells you, probably the vaguest possible explanation he could provide. “I’m only telling you so that you’ll know your advantage and find a way to exploit it. I can’t be seen by any officers, or they might arrest me.”

Is he fucking serious? “I don’t want you to be arrested, Din, I—”

“I won’t be,” he assures you. “They owe me one, I just don’t want to cash in yet. Trust me.”

You… do. Insanely, and against every logical thought flittering through your head, you do. If you were ever going to bet money that someone would be able to navigate a safe world on foot without being caught by the numerous officers scattered across the surface, then you’d put all your credits on Din Djarin. It… also shouldn’t really surprise you at all that the people seeking his incarceration also owe him a favor, should it? It actually sounds right on par for him. “Okay.”

“Fifth, and this one is important, so listen up,” he continues gruffly. “You check in with me tonight over the e-comm, alright? I don’t care where you are or how safe this planet is, if you don’t check in, I’ll come find you before the sun rises. Say you understand me.”

“I understand you,” you tell him, your heart beginning to pound in your chest at the reality of this actually happening. “I’ll check in tonight.”

“And if,” he goes on, “by some miracle, you manage to make it more than a full day, you check in with me tomorrow night, too. Say it.”

“I will check in with you every single night for the full five days it’ll take you to find me,” you assert, the adrenaline starting to make you brash and giddy.

Din tilts his helmet at you sternly. It is a very, very stern tilt. “Okay. New plan, forget everything I just said.”

Your expression furrows. “What’s the new plan?”

“That is the new plan,” he says, dead serious. “Us. Not doing this.”

“Oh, come on,” you grin cheekily up at him, poking his chestplate. “I’m just giving you some motivation to find me quicker, that’s all.”

Din stares down at you, and… yeesh. Tough crowd.

“Tell you what,” he finally grunts, sounding incredibly unamused with your jesting. “If you can last that long with only a day head start, I’ll let you come with me to collect the fifth quarry. You can even cuff the bastard yourself.”

You know it’s just because he’s rightly confident in his own deadly skill, but hearing him propose the possibility still shoots a thrill down your spine. “Oh ho, you are gonna regret saying that, shiny,” you beam up at him, starting to hop back and forth on each foot with excitement.

“But if I’m able to find you, you can’t ask me ever again,” he finishes shortly, and you immediately go still in front of him.

“What?”

“If I’m able to find you in five days, I don’t want to hear about you coming with me on a hunt and you can’t ever ask me not to go on one,” Din tells you, his voice rough and gravelly through the modulator. Not mean or harsh, but firm. “From now on, it’ll be off-limits.”

You… take a moment, not knowing if you should feel scolded or not. When you don’t immediately say anything in response, he sighs and turns the helmet away from you.

“Leaving is hard enough as it is,” he mutters, looking at the ground. “Hearing you ask… makes it impossible.”

You slowly lower your gaze to the floor as well, feeling your heart constrict tight in your chest. There’s a real pull under his voice, telling you that information even though it sounds like he doesn’t really want to admit it out loud. It… really is a struggle for him too, then. You understand.

“Okay,” you nod. There’s not a single part of you that actually thinks you’ll be able to stay hidden from him for five days while stuck on foot, so this is essentially a given. You’re not thrilled about the idea, but you’re going to do your best to respect it nonetheless, especially if he cares enough to put off hunting and allow you this experience for yourself. It’s a better compromise than you ever imagined, and you’ll do everything you can to hold up your side of the bargain.

Din clears his throat and straightens his spine, turning the visor until it faces you head on once more. “Final rule. I reserve the right to break any rule we just agreed to, or any fucking rule in this galaxy to keep you safe. Good?”

Your cheeks flush with heat, your stomach suddenly filling with butterflies. He doesn’t do that. Din says what he says or he doesn’t say anything at all, there’s no… taking things back, he’s already breaking his own code.

“What happened to The Way says no take-backs?” You ask quietly.

“This is my way,” he answers you. Quick, not even taking a moment to think about it, before pulling out a fancy looking wristwatch thing and clipping it on you himself. “This is your communicator. It takes more power than the one you have now but it’ll reach a further distance. I have one just like it, they’re locked into the same frequency and timesynced together, and the batteries need to be charged every three days. If you make it that long, I’ll remind you.” Din grabs the bag while you slide your arm into it, helping you hook it around your shoulder with one hand while he cradles the kid in his other. Your heart is pounding now, pumping with adrenaline as he pulls you towards the middle of the hull and then wraps an arm around you.

“Hey,” he murmurs, pulling you tight to him and pressing the helmet to the crown of your head. His voice is barely a whisper through the modulator. “Gar darasuum.” For an eternity.

You find some way to wrap your arms around him, even with your blaster in your hand and the kid hanging out in his dad’s other arm.

“Dayn alanyc, bal alanyc, bal alanyci,” you murmur dutifully against the beskar chestplate, knowing your accent is probably butchering the words but hoping they still carry the same sentiment.

And then you’re squeeeeeezed hard enough to get a little air out of you, before you’re let go and he turns around, pressing a button on his vambrace so the ramp begins to lower.

It’s bright outside but not too bright, and everything is warm and gentle and breezy, right in the middle of a lush plain. You inhale the fresh air into your lungs, looking out across the wide open field, having no fucking clue this is where your day would be leading when you woke up this morning. Oh Maker, it’s gorgeous here. Not like Naboo, where every single thing is picturesque and fit for an e-card, but in a soft, understated kind of way. The sky is a canvas of swirling pastel clouds, pale pinks and yellows and blues, and the communicator on your wrist lets you know that it’s just after noon here.

You take one single step down the ramp, before immediately stopping and turning around to bite your lip at him.

“How am I… how am I supposed to outrun you?” You ask, already clueless. “You’re too good, better than me at everything.”

“That’s not true,” Din reminds you sternly, grabbing your hand at your side. “You already know who’s after you, that’s an advantage nobody else has ever had against me. You know how I think. I don’t know how, but sometimes it’s like you can…” He slowly shakes his head. “See me. Through the metal.”

“But… but that works both ways,” you point out, breathless at hearing him say that but needing to focus right now. “You know me, too—you’ll know exactly where I—”

He shakes his head again, but quickly this time. “Remember what I told you a long time ago? What your best weapon is?”

You… do not. He told you so many things, and you’re assuming every single one of them is going to come into play during this endeavor if you want to outlast. You’re going to have to think back and remember all of them individually, find the time to figure out your best plan of action based on the remarkably little you know about how he hunts.

“You’re smart, remember?” Din murmurs, squeezing your fingers. “Your mind works differently, it sees things in ways I’ll never be able to, not even with this helmet. So…” He shrugs a shoulder like it’s the simplest thing in the galaxy. “Don’t try to outrun, okay? Just try to outsmart.”

You give him a nod after a moment, still not really sure about it, before giving his hand one last squeeze in return and eventually letting go.

Outsmart. Outsmart him, use what you know about him to be the most elusive quarry he’s ever hunted down.

As you make your way down the ramp, you’re already thinking. His helmet tracks footprints, that’s a thing you know. You’ll have to find someone to trade shoes with, then—yours aren’t too beat up, maybe you can find a local who’d appreciate a better pair. Are you going to a city? Would there be one in walking distance? The wilderness won’t work, you’ll be too exposed and it would make you an easy target for either him or wild animals. The weather seems clear here though, and you don’t think you’ll need to worry about rain or snow, but if—

“Oh—but when you do see me,” Din decides to add when your feet finally touch the grass, and you pause once more to turn around and look at him. He stays quiet for a second, studying you through the helmet for too long. Like the anticipation is getting to him already.

You bite your lip back at him and adjust the bag on your shoulder, tummy swirling with nerves and excitement. He tilts the visor up, gazing down at you from the hull with the kid tucked in his arms.

“Try to outrun,” he says gruffly, before turning back into the ship and letting the ramp slowly close behind him.

#the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #smut #angst #hurt/comfort #reader insert #the mandalorian #rough day #no-droids

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buckybarnesdiaries · 4 years ago

Text

gravity

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

helping Bucky to feel better after a nightmare.

word count: 958 words.

warnings/tags: none.

author notes: i wrote this fic listening to gravity by anthony lazaro. none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

You felt cold under the sheets, still sleepy, turning around to hide your face against Bucky’s chest. But the bed was emptied. Bit by bit, you opened your eyes, giving them enough time to adjust to the gloom inside your room. You grabbed your phone from the nightstand. It was quarter to four. You knew instantly that he had another nightmare and he didn’t want to wake you up, since he was aware of the long day working in the hospital. Tossing the sheets away from your bare body, you stuck out an arm over the edge of the mattress to grab his black t-shirt, still thrown on the floor.

You rubbed your eyelids on your way to the living room where the TV was on but the sound was muted. The lights were off. Bucky was sprawled on the sofa with the remote control resting on his lips. He wasn’t paying attention to the old black and white movie playing, having his eyes lost in somewhere through the large window behind the TV. He didn’t notice your presence until you sunk a hand in his scalp, running your fingers thru them. Bucky couldn’t help but purr from the deepest place of his chest, guiding his orbs to above his head. He looked deadly tired and that broke your heart in one thousand pieces.

James gently grabbed your hand to bring it to his lips and place fond kisses on your knuckles, a second before you urged him to get up from the sofa. In complete silence, you unlocked your phone to play a song you discovered the last day, tossing it after on the sofa. Placing your hands on the back of his neck, Bucky rested his forehead on your shoulder while wrapping your hips with both arms.

Very slowly, you two started to dance around the living room with short steps, enjoying the quiet and romantic melody, as you continued caressing his short strands of black hair. The only thing you wanted was for him to relax, to push away all those memories from a person who wasn’t him. It was his body, but not his mind. It wasn’t fair how much he was still suffering because of his past, not being capable of giving himself a single second of break.

“They forced you to commit all those crimes”. You whisper into his ear, feeling his metal arm embracing you tighter. “You’re a good man, James. And I’m so lucky for having you in my life”.

Bucky sniffed against your neck, burying there his face to contain the tears. Your voice was so sweet, it was unbelievable for him that you’d still choose him every day, even after opening himself and telling you about the lives he took off with his own hands. Bucky told you about the war, about Siberia, about the Winter Soldier’s missions, and everything he could remember. He told you about how scared he was, although Shuri erased any Hydra’s command from his head, they could use them against him again.

“I know one day people will see you as I do”.

Your words could be barely inaudible for anyone around because the soft melody was a little louder, but enough for him to hear them. You felt him sobbing, stopping his moves, and just standing focused on your caresses. You held his cheeks onto your hands, cleaning the few tears falling with your thumbs. Leaning on your tiptoes, you kissed his forehead, pressing your lips on his warm skin with so much tenderness. Bucky was trembling under your touch, shortening the less distance between your bodies.

“Can you smile for me?” You pouted at him, showing your boyfriend your best puppy eyes. “Please…”

How couldn’t he say no? He curved his lips half-hearted, discovering those two little bunny incisors in the center of his tooth. But as soon as your boyfriend heard you chuckling, crinkling your nose, his smile grown from ear-to-ear. You knew to perfection how to cheer him up, even if mostly you used to do it practically unconsciously.

Bucky licked his lower lip while raising both of his hands to the sides of your neck, bowing his face enough to kiss you. He had been craving it since he woke up less than an hour ago, finding you clung to his body and your nose sunk close to the huge scar on his shoulder. Sometimes, completely asleep, you used to place fondly smoochies on it. Waking him up a couple of seconds, enough to ask himself how your love for him could be so pure and embrace you as close as he could. He usually used to take a deep breath from your sweet fruity smell, before dozing off again.

“One day… y'know, when the Government is sure ‘m not going to…” Bucky intoned stroking the tip of your nose with his, still softly sniffing, not finishing the sentence. “I… I will marry you. And take care of you for the rest of my life. I promise”.

In silence as his blue eyes got fixed on your orbs, he begged you to believe him. Bucky was desperate for showing you the things you made him feel.

“I know, Buck”.

His smile appeared again, pecking your lips whilst squatting briefly to raise you onto his arms. He was so much better after dancing with you, after your words of encouragement, after practically saying yes to get older together and everything that went with it.

James brought you to your shared bed, removing his t-shirt you were wearing to tuck you under the sheets, between his arms and well-covered by the warmth emanating from his chest. A long time ago, the word home stopped having a material meaning. Home was wherever you were.

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it and/or reblog it.

tag list: @mystic-232 @homesicam @theresnoplatypus @i-love-scott-mccall @slutfornat @goldielocks2004 @whatrambles @the-mystery-spot @multiyfandomgirl40 @purrrrfect @spidergirla5 @wanniiieeee @fanofalltheficsx @spideysimpossiblegirl @nocturnalherb16 @jointhehunt67 @the-witty-pen-name @valenquei @golden-hoax @hunter-of-baker-street @missusstark @vhscherry @warm-sensations @edenxecho @addictedtofictionalcharacters @sarahsmcu @tinylumpiaa @amelia-song-pond @heartislubbingdubbing @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @diaryofkali

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x you #bucky x reader #the winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes

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likeahorribledream · 3 years ago

Text

On The Run

Request: ''I had a bad dream'' with Steve Rogers. - @fangirllife98

Summary: After the incidents from Civil War, you and Steve are on the run together.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader / Nomad!Steve x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning: Nothing triggering, I think? I suck at warnings. There isn't any physical description for the reader.

Notes at the end.

+ This is not proofread, I apologize in advance for all the mistakes you're about to see.

Steve Rogers had been your friend since he had come out of the ice. You used to work for SHIELD but you were neither an agent or an Avenger, you worked in the medical field and you had been hired to monitor Steve’s health until he woke up and after. You spent a lot of time with him and quickly became close friends. You both have very similar personalities and it made it very easy to get along. He could spend hours talking to you about his life from before and he could listen to you for hours as you tried to explain to him everything that was new and different.

He loved that you weren’t an agent or an Avenger, it allowed him to have his own little escape from that part of his life whenever it got to be too much. You were, and still are, one of his best friends and he trusts you with his life.

When he decided to go look for Bucky, he wanted you to come with him. In case Bucky needed medical help, you were the only person he’d trust around his childhood best friend. Of course, you went with him. You had listened to Steve tell you hundreds of stories about the trouble he’d get into with his friend, Bucky was too important for him to refuse to go look for him with Steve.

You hadn’t expected to become fugitives of the law, yet here you are a year later; running and hiding with Captain America.

Steve brought Bucky to Wakanda so that he could heal and understand what exactly happened to him, when he came back the feud between him and Tony was far from being over and since he went against the Sokovia Accords, he found himself on the other side of the law and since you had helped him, you were considered an accomplice and were on the ‘’wanted’’ list next to Steve’s name. Tony could have gotten them out of it but when Steve chose Bucky over him, he decided to let him fend for himself. Steve had given you a choice; he could get you a place to live in another country where you’d be safe from the authorities or you could stay with him but that meant you would have to constantly be on the move.

You’d much rather be constantly on the move with your friend, than staying in one place in a country you didn’t know without being able to see him for who knows how long, the choice had been very simple and easy for you.

After a year, the heat had died down and it allowed you to stay in one place for longer periods of time. Steve had grown a beard and let his hair get longer, it made it harder for people to recognize him. Not a lot of people knew what you look like, but you decided to dye your hair from time to time just in case someone might recognize you.

A few days ago, you and Steve went back to New York. It’s Steve’s safe place and it’s so crowded, it makes it hard for anyone to recognize either of you. Steve had found a shady motel in a shady part of town that accepted to be paid in cash, no IDs required and no questions asked. You each had a room, a door connected them and you always left it opened just to keep an eye on each other.

It’s hard to sleep. You haven’t had a single good night of sleep since you left with Steve, you were scared that if you fell into too deep of a sleep, you wouldn’t hear if someone came for you.

Tonight is your third night in a row at this motel, you were tired of eating food from the vending machines so you decided to go get some takeouts for dinner. Steve doesn’t like when you go out on your own but it was too risky for him to go with you, that’s why you mainly ate food from vending machines. After dinner, you took showers in your respective rooms. After your shower, you put on a pair of sweats and a tank top and sat on your bed, waiting for Steve to join you to watch a movie.

‘’Come on, old man.’’ You called out towards his room.

He was taking his time and you were anxious to get the movie started.

His head poked out from his bathroom door, his hair completely drenched.

‘’That nickname wasn’t funny years ago when you used it for the first time, and it’s not funny now.’’

You laughed and pointed at your smile. ‘’Speak for yourself, I personally think it’s funny.’’

He rolled his eyes.

‘’Come on, Stevie. I’m tired.’’

Steve squinted as he looked at the alarm clock on your nightstand. ‘’It’s barely 8:30. How am I the old man here?’’

‘’You were born at the beginning of the 1900s, I was born at the end of the 1900s thus making you old.’’

‘’Well, give me 5 minutes and I’ll be right there. You can start the movie, I’ll still be able to hear it from here.’’ He told you, going back into the bathroom but leaving the door slightly opened.

You did as he said, you pressed play on the movie you had chosen earlier and sat with your back against the headboard, pillows behind you to make it more comfortable.

Five minutes later, Steve emerged from the bathroom and sat down next to you. He lifted his arm to let you snuggle up against his body and then laid it on your back, his hand resting on your hip.

Movie night always meant cuddle time.

Though you loved Steve with all of your heart and he loved you with all of his, the last few months had started to get rough for the both of you. You had never realized how much you were fond of hugs and human touch until you couldn’t do either. You came to a mutual understanding that, to keep your sanity, you would have cuddle time and it had sincerely helped better both of your moods.

Once the movie was over Steve turned off the TV, gave you a kiss on your forehead and went back to his room for the night. As soon as the lights were off, you fell asleep.

You were woken up a few hours later by something touching your foot above your covers. You quickly opened your eyes and relaxed when you saw Steve standing at the foot of your bed.

‘’What’s wrong?’’ Your voice was barely audible as you were still half asleep.

‘’I- I had a bad dream. Really bad. Can I stay with you?’’ He whispered.

You could hear how anxious he was and that woke you up. You grabbed the covers that were around your shoulders and lifted them up. Steve quickly walked around the bed and joined you, settling under the sheets. You waited until he was completely laid down and lowered the covers on top of both of your bodies.

‘’Are you ok?’’ You whispered.

You were laying on your side, facing him while he was laying on his back, looking at the ceiling. He turned his head and looked at you. His eyes were looking at every detail of your face, trying to burn this image of you into his brain so he’d never forget how beautiful you looked in this exact moment.

Steve’s had a crush on you since the first day he met you. At first he didn’t think too much of it, thinking it was just because you were the first woman he’d seen in over 70 years. Then, you two became really close friends and his feelings only got stronger throughout the years but he was going through a lot and he didn’t think it was fair of him to drag you into his problems so he decided to wait before telling you how he felt. He was finally gathering up the courage around the time Bucky resurfaced and before he knew it the two of you were on the run and he was terrified to confess his feelings to you and that you’d reject him. You two literally only had each other, he couldn’t risk ruining your friendship. Not when it was the only thing keeping the both of you completely sane.

You were both so oblivious, it was almost painful. Steve thought he’d ruin your friendship by telling you how he felt and you were keeping your very similar feelings to yourself because you didn’t think you were good enough for Steve Rogers, America’s Golden Boy. Though you tried not to let it show, you were a very insecure person and you barely felt like you were good enough to be friends with him, there’s no way he’d ever see you as girlfriend material.

‘’I don’t think I am.’’ He finally answered, whispering too.

He laid on his side to face you. It was pitch black in your room, but street lamps outside still managed to peak out from between the blinds, allowing you to see Steve’s face a little better. Whereas with his enhanced everything, Steve could see you very clearly.

‘’What do you need?’’ You asked softly.

‘’You.’’ He answered without hesitation.

You had one hand tucked under your head and you reached out to the other one, brushing your fingers against his jawline soothingly.

‘’I’m right here.’’

He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the gentle touch on his jaw. When he opened his eyes again, he reached out over to you to wrap his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to his chest. You were so close to him that you had to tilt your head back to be able to look at him while he had to look down. You moved your hand to the back of his head and played with his hair that was still a little damp from his shower earlier.

‘’Do you want to talk about your dream?’’ You offered knowing that sometimes talking about it helped him.

He shook his head no, his eyes on you and never looking away.

‘’I don’t want to talk.’’

His hand that rested at the small of your back was now moving up to cup the side of your face, using his thumb to gently stroke your cheek.

Somehow, Steve’s face felt closer than it had a few seconds ago. Your heart started racing and you were sure he could hear it. His thumb moved down, the pad of his finger brushed over your lower lip a few times. It sent shivers down your spine. Steve leaned down a little more, his thumb going back to rest on your cheek. His eyes kept flickering between your lips and your eyes. He was ready to stop at any sign of you being uncomfortable. He gently brushed his nose against yours and when you didn’t pull away, he finally kissed you.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you felt your cheeks heat up. Steve didn’t leave you enough time to kiss him back, as he pulled away quickly. Your eyes opened, scared to see the regret on his face but instead all you could see was how nervous he was.

‘’Is this ok?’’

You nodded as an answer, not trusting your voice to function properly. He quickly closed the gap between the two of you, this time giving you a chance to kiss him back. Both your eyes were closed, his thumb started moving on your cheek again and your hand that was in his hair slowly slid down his neck, then his chest to finally move under his arm and rest on his back. The kiss was slow, as if Steve was afraid to hurt you, but you both could feel all the emotions and feelings that you hadn’t had the courage to confess being put into this kiss. He pulled back, just enough to give you a chance to breathe. Both the kiss and how loved you felt leaving you a little breathless.

He looked at you and waited until you opened your eyes. The look in his eyes made your breath hitched in your throat. He had so much love in his eyes that you thought your heart was going to melt in your chest. He rested his forehead against yours, kissing the tip of your nose.

‘’You.’’ He echoed his thoughts from earlier. His voice was barely audible but he was so close that you could hear him perfectly. ‘’I just need you.’’

I am a big sucker for Nomad!Steve, look at that glorious beard!

I hope this wasn't too cringey. This was my FIRST TIME writing a kissing scene, so please be kind. I know it was probably really bad, I'm sorry!

Thank you to my dear @fangirllife98 for requesting this. I hope you liked it and that it fed your little Steve hunger for the day.

[Taglist: @n3ssm0nique | @lover-of-bucky | @beingagodsucks ]

If you want to be added to a taglist; Bucky taglist, Steve taglist, Missing Piece taglist, Blood Moon taglist or just the general taglist just let me know in the comments or DM me.

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the-bau-quinjet · 4 years ago

Note

hiii! i don’t know if you have done this but can you do a hotch x reader where they get kidnapped by tobias instead of reid? xx

4 Months

Warning: Criminal Minds level violence, drugs, torture, rabid dogs

Word Count: 3562

a/n: I decided to switch up some of the specifics, just to make it a bit more fun to read. I hope you like it :) Also, we're pretending Rossi was there bc he is really the father of the group and it fit better than having Gideon 🤷‍♀️

Masterlist

"JJ, we have to split up." You barely looked back at her, missing the nervous expression on her face as you ran toward the cornfield. "I'll take the field, you take the barn."

You slowed to a brisk walk as you neared the cornfield, raising your gun in front of you. You couldn't help but think about how pissed Hotch would be if he knew what you were doing.

You shook off the thought, knowing he would do the same if the roles were reversed.

Spotting movement, you moved farther into the corn, trying to spot any signs indicating which way Tobias went. A bent corn husk was the last thing you saw before the world went black.

"He's not a witness. He's the unsub." Hotch's eyes went wide as he realized you and JJ were there without backup. "Call JJ, now." He instructed Morgan, taking out his own phone to call you.

Hotch's eyes met Morgan's as both calls went unanswered. No words were exchanged as everyone ran out to the SUVS, putting on bulletproof vests as they went.

Hotch was nervously tapping the steering wheel the entire drive to Hankel's house. He couldn't stop replaying your last conversation.

"Y/N, you and JJ go talk to Hankel. Find out if he saw anything." Despite his stern expression, you could tell his eyes were smiling at you.

"Sure thing." You nodded, mouthing 'I love you' before turning to JJ.

That's it. He didn't even have the chance to mouth it back. JJ would've seen, and even though the team has theories about your relationship, you haven't confirmed anything yet.

He pulled into the driveway, running up to the house, gun out before anyone could stop him.

Prentiss followed Hotch, Morgan and Reid took the left, Rossi and a local cop took the right.

They tore through the house, clearing it with fierce determination, but came up empty.

"It's clear." Rossi called, joining Hotch and Prentiss in the living room. "Where are Morgan and Reid?"

Hotch spared a glance out the window, discovering the barn likely being cleared by the missing agents.

Everyone ran out of the house, arriving outside the barn just as Morgan and Reid lead a distressed JJ outside.

"What happened?" Hotch questioned, glancing over JJ's shoulder into the barn. Clearly you weren't there, but he needed to hope.

"We split up. Y/N went into the cornfield... I had- I had to shoot them." Her voice was detached, eyes glazed over.

"The dogs." Morgan clarified, leading JJ to a paramedic.

"Dammit. The house is clear. No sign of Y/N or Hankel." Hotch ran a hand through his hair, trying to clear his mind. The worry was nearly overpowering, but it wouldn't help find you.

The sheriff approached, removing his hat. "A deputy two towns over gave directions to a man matching Hankel's description. He's headed for a hunting lodge."

Morgan nodded to Prentiss. "We'll check it out."

Your head was pounding. A vile scent reached your nose, causing your eyes to flicker open. You flinched at the closeness of the man in front of you.

"Tobias..." The name slipped out in a whisper.

"They're not here. It's just me now." He stated, calmer than you would've expected.

"Who are you?" You asked, trying to portray a fake sense of calm.

"I'm Rafael." He pulled out a revolver, adding a single bullet to the six chambers.

"No. You don't have to do this." Your heart ached, fear gripping your body as he aimed the gun at you.

"It is my duty to enact God's will." He said, right before pulling the trigger.

Hotch pulled back into the driveway, leading Garcia into the house.

"His computer setup is in there. If there's even a hint of where they might've gone, I need you to find it." Hotch gestured to the back room.

Penelope nodded. Carrying her own computer bags, she followed Derek into the depths of the house.

"What've we got?" Hotch questioned those remaining around the table.

"He knew he could throw us off, pretend to be looking for a hunting lodge." Emily spoke quickly.

"We've got piles of information, journals, notebooks. We're still sifting through it all." JJ added, shirt still bloody from yesterday.

Just then, Reid rushed in from another room. "The walls in the bedroom, they are covered in the latin phrase 'honora patrem tuum', honor thy father."

"Garcia, look for anything you can find about his father." Hotch gave out orders, but his focus was elsewhere. What was happening to you?

"Over here!" Morgan called from outside.

The team ran around the house to see Morgan opening a cellar door. Nodding slightly, Hotch and Morgan made there way inside.

"Tobias Hankel, FBI." Morgan shouted, receiving no answer.

They quickly found the dead body of none other than Hankel's father. Even the new information did little to calm the worry brewing inside of Hotch.

"Confess your sins." He ordered.

"My sins? I don't have any sins." You did your best to hold back the tears, trying to figure out who you were talking to.

"Everyone has sins. Confess, and you will be forgiven." He stared you down, waiting for a response.

You simply shook your head, mouth slightly agape. The smell was getting to you. You couldn't think straight with the pain in your head.

"I- I don't know what-"

"YES YOU DO. CONFESS." He hit you, whipping your head to the left.

"Hotch, he took drugs to escape. Dilaudid cut with a psychedelic." Emily relayed the information her and JJ got from Tobias's sponsor.

"We've got something too. The dates in his journals don't add up. He was talking about his father as if he was alive months after he killed him."

"His father beat him, preached about sin." Emily replied, putting the pieces together alongside Hotch.

"Split personality. Profile the father. He could be the key to finding Y/N." Even just saying your name he felt his heart clench.

"Who are you?" You questioned him as soon as he walked through the door, trying to figure out who you were dealing with this time.

"Tobias." He moved about the cabin almost nervously.

"Who was here before?" You knew Rafael, but the other personality was a mystery.

"My father." Definitely the most violent. He was who you had to look out for. "I'm sorry if he hurt you."

Tobias looked over you newly forming bruises before pulling off his belt.

"No. No what are you doing?" You felt your heart rate increase as he wrapped the belt around your arm. You could barely register the words he was saying, something about escaping from the pain.

"Please. I don't want it. I'm fine." You begged, tears brimming your eyes. He ignored your pleas, injecting the drug into your bloodstream.

Despite how much you hated it, you felt the relief he was talking about. The pain was gone, even if just briefly. You thought about your time spent with Hotch. It didn't feel like long enough. You wanted more. You had so much you wanted to do with him.

"Aaron..." You mumbled his name between kisses. "They could see us." You did little to stop him, despite your words.

"We should tell them." He whispered against your mouth, holding you close. "They would be happy for us."

You sighed blissfully, forehead pressed against his. "Really? You know they've got a pool going to see when we'd finally get together. Who do you think had money on 4 months ago?" You laughed into his neck, pulling him closer.

"My bet's on Rossi. He knows us both too well." Aaron smiled, a full genuine smile.

"You're probably right, but just to make it interesting, I'm betting Reid. He's too observant not to have noticed." You squinted at the window, knowing Reid was staring at the closed blinds on the other side.

That earned a laugh, one you could feel in his chest pressed tightly to your own.

"I love you." He kissed your head, content to hold you for a little while longer.

"I love you too." You leaned ever farther into him. "We can tell them when we get back from this next case."

"Deal."

"Get in here!" Reid called from the computer room, pointing to a screen where you were being broadcast. You were handcuffed and tied to a chair, clearly beaten.

"Pick one to die." The voice of Tobias could be heard, despite him not being visible on the screen.

You shook your head, staring into the camera. You wanted to plead for Hotch to save you, but you knew it wouldn't be fair. He didn't need that on his conscience.

"Choose one, and I will free another."

You shook your head again, trying to think of a clue you could give the team. "I won't let you hunt them like a poacher."

"Now. Or I will kill them all." He threatened, lifting you from the ground.

"I'll pick who lives." You stuttered, breaths coming fast and short. "The right screen."

You were forced to watch as he turned off the camera, leaving the screens to show the heinous murders he was about to commit.

Suddenly, Rossi was talking to you through the screen. The sight of him nearly brought you to tears.

"Y/N. This isn't your fault. None of it. You can't blame yourself. We will find you, but I need you to be there when we do."

You knew exactly what he meant. You were already blaming yourself, despite Rossi's father like relationship with you, it was hard to believe him.

It did give you the strength to remember the team though. You needed to see them, all of them, again.

"He's back!" Morgan called everyone in to view the screens again.

"Confess your sins." They watched as he beat you.

You cried. You begged him to stop. You begged Tobias for help, but nothing worked.

Hotch felt his heart break even more with every word.

Suddenly, you were on the ground, still tied to the chair. You were seizing, Charles Hankel watching as it happened.

The screen went dark, causing Hotch to punch the desk.

"Dammit." He shouted. He didn't care if his worry was beginning to poke through the surface. He needed to find you and he needed to do it now.

"The timestamp." Emily's voice drew him out of his head. "There's only a few minutes between the time of death and when it was posted. He's got to be close to the crime scene."

Finally. Something that felt like progress.

They watched the screen as you appeared again.

"Choose one to die." It was Rafael this time.

"I can't. I can't do it." Your face betrayed every emotion you were feeling inside.

"Pick one." He stated again.

"Me. Kill me." You nearly begged.

"You said you weren't one of them. Your team has 7 other members. Choose one of them to die."

You shook your head, fear gripping you once again as he pulled out the revolver.

"Choose." He connected the gone to your forehead, resting it there.

"No." He pulled the trigger, watching as you flinched.

"Choose." You shook your head, tensing as he pulled the trigger again.

Hotch felt his heart in his stomach, internally begging you to just say a name. He couldn't watch you die, not like this.

"Choose." He pulled the trigger yet again at your silence.

"I won't do it." You held firm, knowing you had limited chances.

"Choose one to die."

You opened your mouth, panting as an idea came to you.

"I choose... Aaron Hotchner." Your heart ached even saying it, but you needed to give him a clue. "He's a classic narcissist. Thinks he's better than everyone. He'd go to his grave knowing he was wrong." You winced internally, trying not to give away your plan.

Hotch left the room, trying to understand your words. The two of you had just argued about the definition of classic narcissism.

"I think you're wrong." You laughed at his amused expression.

"Yeah? Or do you just like making me exasperated?" He questioned your motives, pulling you closer as you laid in bed together.

"Maybe a little bit of both." You shrugged, leaning up to kiss him. "Promise me something?" You asked, a nervous expression on your face.

"What?" He looked at you with so much concern, you felt your heart beat a little faster.

"If... If I die, you can't blame yourself." He opened his mouth to protest, but you kept going. "I know you Aaron. You'd take it to grave thinking it was your fault. I can't let you do that. Not when I know you blame yourself for Haley's death." You felt your heart break for him and the pain he had been through. "Promise me." You were nearly begging.

"I promise." He whispered, his throat tight at the idea of losing you.

He was brought back to the present by the sound of Rossi's voice.

"Hotch, you know Y/N didn't mean any of that." Rossi tried gently, unsure of how Hotch was coping with your situation.

"I'm not a narcissist. What's my worst quality?" He looked at the apprehensive looks everyone was giving him. "I'll start, I have no sense of humor."

He nodded along as his team listed his faults.

"None of you said I ever put myself above the team, because I don't. Y/N and I just argued about the definition of classic narcissism." He paced, trying to put it together. "I'd take it to my grave... Grave was a hint."

"What? How do you know?" Reid shook his head, trying to understand the logic.

"I made a promise. It's a long story." He shook his head, trying to clear the memory so he could focus. "Y/N knew I would remember it."

"A cemetary. It's got to be a cemetary." Morgan added.

"No cemeteries on the map." Garcia was typing away on the computer.

"Like a poacher." Reid whispered, staring at the screen.

"Reid?" Hotch looked at him, eyes pleading for an answer.

"That's what Y/N said in the first video. 'I won't let you hunt them like a poacher.'" He said it louder, more excited than before.

"Garcia, any reports of poaching in the area?" Hotch asked, the idea of finding you causing hope to erupt in his chest.

"Yes, at Marshall Parrish... and there's a cemetery on the grounds." She gave them the address, watching as they ran out to the SUVs.

"I'm sorry." Tobias said it so softly, you were almost certain you didn't hear it at all.

"Wh- why?" Your eyebrows pulled together in confusion, trying to make sense of it.

"He'll win. In the end, he always does." He rose from the crouched position, slowly injecting you with more drugs.

"Hotch!" You screamed, feeling arms restraining you from behind.

You watched as he went into the hostage situation, unarmed and without a vest.

"Derek. Let me go!" You struggled in his grasp, straining to get free.

"There's nothing you can do, he's already inside." He stated the truth, although it did little to calm your nerves.

You settled down, throat tight with worry. You bit your lip, eyes flitting between the door and windows. You just needed a sign, anything to say he was alright.

The sound of a gun firing stunned you. You were frozen in place, fear consuming you. You had just told him you loved him for the first time this morning. What if you never get to say it again? What if that's all the time you got.

You stared in horror as everyone ran toward the house, only to freeze when a voice shouted everything was fine.

"It's fine." He huffed, carrying the small child out of the house toward a waiting EMT. "Baxter is dead."

"Aaron..." You whispered the name, realizing how powerless you felt when he was in danger. The two of you made eye contact across the yard, a reassuring look in his eye.

"Aaron..." You whispered, blinking rapidly as you slowly came to.

"What about Aaron." Charles. Tobias's dad was back.

"I couldn't stop him. I couldn't keep him safe." You muttered to yourself, not fully understanding the situation.

"Is that a confession?" He asked, voice hard.

"Yes." It was more of a breath of air than a word, but it was all he needed to condemn you.

He unlocked your handcuffs, forcing a shovel into your newly freed arms before dragging you outside.

"Dig." he instructed plainly, watching over you as stray tears wet the ground beneath you.

"Clear." Morgan called from one side of the shed.

"Clear" Hotch replied from the other. With the whole team in the small space, it wasn't exactly necessary but it was habit.

Hotch could feel his nerves picking up again as he realized this meant you were still with Tobias. He paced back and forth, feeling powerless.

"Spread out. They have to be on foot." He left without waiting for a response, turning left with JJ to look for you.

You did your best to stall, but Charles wasn't the most patient.

"Dig faster."

"I'm trying. I'm trying." You whimpered, movements speeding up ever so slightly. The massive knife in his hands causing your own to shake.

"You're weak. Move." He huffed, throwing his jacket to the ground before ripping the shovel from your hands.

A flash of light in the trees caught your eye. Flashlights. Your team. Aaron.

Your eyes flickered between the man in front of you and the trees, causing him to turn.

You took the split second he wasn't looking to grab the gun from his jacket, swiftly aiming it as he turned back to you knife raised.

"Only one bullet in that gun." He lunged for you, falling backwards after you pulled the trigger.

You dropped the gun, quickly tossing the knife away.

"Tobias?" You cried, moving back toward him.

"You killed me." He seemed surprised, but grateful at the same time.

You felt the tears pouring down your face as you apologized.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry." You grabbed his hand, watching the light fade from his eyes as he asked one final question.

"You think I'll get to see my mom again?"

You barely registered the arms around you, pulling you to your feet. You couldn't take your eyes off of Tobias. He wasn't the one who hurt you. He helped you, or at least tried.

"I killed him." Your breathing picked up, vision blurring.

"Y/N, look at me." You turned to the voice, blinking rapidly to stop the tears.

"Aaron?" You took a stuttering breath, trying to make sure this was real.

"I'm here. It's okay. You're okay. You're safe now." His words were just as reassuring to himself as they were to you. You caught JJ's eye over Hotch's shoulder, quickly moving to hug her.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry. I never should've-" You cut her off.

"None of this was your fault. It was my idea to split up. I'm so sorry." You cried into her shoulder, knowing how guilty she must've felt.

She hugged you back, tears brimming her own eyes at seeing you alive again.

She lead you to the EMT, not commenting on the look you threw over your shoulder at Aaron. He quickly followed you to the ambulance. JJ left you to talk to Hotch, who stayed beside you the entire time the medics looked you over.

"I didn't mean it." You said when you were finally alone, sitting between the open doors of the ambulance.

"What?" Aaron questioned, his mind not following your own train of thought.

"When... When I had to choose. I didn't mean any of it." You could feel the tears coming, but this time you did nothing to hold them back.

"I know. I knew the whole time." You brushed your tears away, looking you in the eye. "I love you so much." He whispered, his own eyes feeling watery.

"I love you too." You leaned into him, relishing in the feeling of his arm around you. You couldn't help but look over at the team, all of whom quickly pretended not to be watching. You huffed a laugh.

"Yeah, I think they're going to have some questions." Hotch smiled, glad to see you happy even if just for a second.

"After this case, right?" You looked back at him, confirming you still wanted to share your relationship with the team.

"Deal." He smiled, arm tightening around your shoulders to pull you closer.

You couldn't help but bring it up on the jet ride home.

"So, who had money on four months ago?" You questioned, tucked into Aaron's side on the couch.

"What?" Emily raised a brow at your sudden statement.

"That's when we started dating." You grinned at her shocked expression.

"Dammit Reid." Morgan huffed, handing over the money.

"Don't forget Rossi!" Reid high fived the older man, the two grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Looks like we were both right." Hotch smiled into your hair, trying to hide his laugh.

"Yeah. We make a pretty good team." You smiled, leaning into his touch.

"I love you." He murmured, face still in your hair. You turned your face into his chest before responding.

"I love you too."

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman @madewithsebstan

#aaron hotchner x you #hotch x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch xy/n #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner one shot #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fic #hotch fic #hotch fluff #hotch one shot #hotch angst

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hihellogoodbyebruh · 4 years ago

Text

I Know What You’re Thinking, You’re On My Mind (You’re Right)

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Black!Plus Size!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Angel are in love and these are different moments in the span of their relationship.

Warning(s): Just a lot of fluffy goodness....okay some angst (it’s me lol) but mostly fluff

Word count: 2,526

AN: This is kind of a songfic, but also not really? I think of it as a bunch of drabbles loosely connected by random parts of a song. Song title and inspo from Come Close by Common ft. Mary J. Blige. The sweetest little fic I’ve ever written. Fat Black girls deserve to be loved loudly. This is for us. As always, questions, comments, and concerns are welcomed. Happy reading lovelies! xo

Smile, happiness, you could model it And when you feel opposite I just want you to know Your whole, being is beautiful I'ma do the best I can do Cause I'm my best when I'm with you

The sound of a domino being slammed on the table caused several other park goers to turn their heads and see a striking woman jumping out of her seat.

“That’s domino bitches! Y’all really thought you could beat me in dominoes? Shoulda checked my credentials mofos!” Y/N shouted, a huge smile on her face as she talked shit.

The guys around the table all groaned and huffed as she celebrated her win. Coco swore up and down that he would be the winner and Gilly was just as sure that he would be the one. EZ just wanted to play and Angel kept his mouth shut knowing his girl had been playing dominoes with her father and uncles practically all her life.

“Whatever, Y/N. You not seeing me in poker.” Coco grumbled, though he was fighting to keep a smile off his face. He was impressed.

“Well this aint poker is it? Run me my money.” She replied, rubbing her fingers together before holding out her hand.

The men all pulled out their wallets and placed the correct amount of money into Y/N’s hands. She grinned as she fanned herself with the money before draping her body across the smirking Angel’s lap.

“Oh hey there sexy. If you’re nice I might buy you something with this considerable fortune I just won.” Y/N winked.

“You my sugar mama now?” Angel teasingly asked.

“I do taste sweet so I think I fit the description.”

“Damn right you do.” He smirked, before leaning down to kiss Y/N’s lips.

Santo Padre’s mayor, Antonia Pena, had put together a community fair to help raise money for the town and uplift spirits. It was also a great way for local businesses to showcase what they have to offer. Services and items were put into a raffle that everyone who attended the event got entered into. Y/N even managed to convince Felipe to have a little booth to show off his fine cuts of meat and how they could best be used in meals.

Angel was so in awe of her. She managed to pull even his grumpy ass father out of the house and she was constantly a source of light in his life. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky, but he knew he never wanted to let her go. He loved her more than anything and he knew she felt the same about him. She never doubted him or made him feel inadequate. She understood even the ugly parts of him. Didn’t excuse or condone his behavior, but she understood it and always reassured him that she knew he could do better.

“Whatchu staring at?” She asked, after the kiss ended and he kept his intense gaze on her.

“My whole world.” He answered honestly and she felt herself get a little emotional.

“If you make me cry in public, I will hurt you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He replied, nipping at her shoulder and making her grin.

I know in the past, love Has been sort of hard on you But I see the God in you I just want to nurture it Though this love may hurt a bit

Neither of them had the best track record when it came to relationships. Angel had an awful habit of doing things without thinking about the consequences of his actions. Impulsive isn’t a strong enough word to describe how he is. He runs on emotion a lot of the time. It frustrates Y/N to no end. She doesn’t operate like that. She rarely if ever acts on impulse. She thinks too much. Worries too much about how people will react to her and her actions. Her hesitance to engage in things before she’s run every possible scenario through her head makes Angel want to pull his hair out. He hates seeing her unsure of herself. He makes it his mission to help her just get lost in the moment sometimes. And she tries her hardest to slow him down and make him think more on things before he acts.

His lifestyle also guaranteed their love won’t always be sunshine and roses. The first time Angel got hurt Y/N thought she was going to pass out. The level of panic and fear she felt almost took her down. When she finally got to see him in the hospital bed, she burst into tears. Once he was healed, she tried to pull away from him but he wouldn’t let her. The one time Y/N was verbally and physically accosted in front of Angel, he almost shot someone right in front of her. The need to protect her almost overrode his need to keep her away from the more violent side of himself.

The silence was deafening. Neither one was ready to take the first step and speak. The whole ride back home, Y/N never said a word. Not when Angel was getting chewed out by Bishop or when several people practically gawked at her even as they tried to make it seem like they weren’t. She was silent as she went through her nightly routine and prepared for bed.

It was as she sat on the edge of the bed, preparing to slide under the covers that Angel finally snapped.

“You’re really not gonna fucking say anything?” He practically growled at her, glaring at her from where he stood at the foot of the bed. He had on his usual sleepwear of a tank top and sweats.

She sighed, “What do you want me to say Angel?”

“Anything. Cuss me out, kiss me, or I don’t know, maybe thank me?” He suggested, sarcasm in his voice at the last part because he was clearly exasperated.

She cut her eyes at him fiercely. “Thank you? You want me to thank you?”

“Yes.” He stubbornly confirmed.

She shot up from the bed and spun to face him full on. She had never been so mad at him. “Thank you Angel for causing a bigger scene. Thank you Angel for almost igniting a war between two gangs over one stupid joke. Thank you for putting yourself in harm's way and almost giving me a heart attack. Thank you so much Angel.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. It wasn’t just a stupid joke. You think I care so little about you that I wouldn’t fuck someone up for you?”

“I’ve heard way worse..” She argued, so used to minimizing her pain. Her dismissal of the incident as something trivial made him even more pissed.

“I don’t give a damn what you heard. Aint nobody gonna disrespect you in front of me and think I’m just gonna let that shit slide.”

“You could have killed him.”

“I DON’T GIVE A FUCK.” He exploded, making her freeze and stare at him with her mouth slightly open. “You’re mine. I don’t know what kinda cowards you been dealing with before, but I don’t play that shit. There is no joking when it comes to you. Not from some hijo de puta who has the audacity to put his hands on you. He’s lucky the only thing I did was bust him in the head with my pistol.”

“Angel…..” She sighed, her eyes closing as she took in his words. She understood his point but was still uncomfortable with the methods.

He walked over to her and cupped her face in his hands. He kissed her forehead before resting his head on hers. He spoke only after she opened her eyes, “You can be mad. I already know you are, but I’m not apologizing for protecting you.”

She had to get used to being loved and protected so adamantly by someone. So often left to comfort herself and bury her hurt, it took her a while to accept Angel’s form of protection. A part of her kept her guard up waiting for him to turn it against her, but that day never came. Any violent outbursts he had in her presence were never directed at her and so she found herself trusting him whole-heartedly. Her love for him deepened as time moved forward.

You helped me to discover me I just want you to put trust in me

Y/N loved Pops and she enjoyed the family dinners with him and EZ, but she knew he was not the perfect father. He made mistakes and Angel still hasn’t completely dealt with the issues the mistakes left him with. Everything just got buried. She knew when he was starting to feel inadequate or like he didn’t deserve her because he would become even more clingy. He was already very affectionate with her, always having a hand on her back and kissing her head. She loved how open he was, but when he was going through it the touches would have a desperate edge to them. Like he was trying to prove something.

A new episode of Joseline’s Cabaret played on the tv showing off the Puerto Rican Princess’ latest antics. Y/N had on sweats and a tank top as she laid on your back and giggled at the fight on her screen. She doesn't know why she watches that show, but it was entertaining.

Her front door opened and in walked the man she’d been seeing for a year now.

“What did I tell you about leaving this door unlocked?”

“I knew you were coming over so why would I lock it?” She argued, tilting her head back to watch Angel toe off his shoes and take off his kutte.

“You’re so hard headed.” He slapped the outside of her thigh and leaned in for a kiss before lying in between her legs. His head rested on her stomach and her hands immediately began running through his hair. His hands ran over her thighs as he buried his face in her belly and just breathed her in.

“You walked right in so obviously I was right.” Her hands moved from his hair to slide down his back, feeling for any new bruises. “How was your day? Do I gotta kick someone’s ass for messing with my man?” She asked, a teasing tone to her words even though she was kinda being serious.

“I’m all good, mi dulce.” He responded, already knowing her touches were to comfort him but also give herself some peace of mind that he was with her and he was still whole.

It was quiet for a moment before Angel propped his chin on her belly and looked at her. She brought her attention from the television to him. There was a gentle look in his eyes, full of love but also a vulnerability that made her heart clench.

“You love me right?” He gripped her hips tightly as he searched her eyes for the truth in her words.

Her eyes widened at his question. “Of cour-”

He interrupted her. “Because I love you so damn much, querida. I know I’m not easy, but I try to be better for you.”

“Angel…” Her hand gently caressed his cheek as she softly smiled at him. “You are my favorite person in this whole world. You love me like no other and I’ll always love you. Never forget that. And when you do, I’ll be here to remind you.” She leaned forward to kiss his lips and felt his grip on her hips loosen.

The two shared loving kisses for several minutes before he pulled away and kissed her stomach before laying his head back down. His attention finally focused on the television. “What the fuck are you watching?”

She was unable to contain her giggles.

I kind of laugh when you cuss at me The aftermath is you touching me

“Oh, is that funny? Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Not at all gorgeous.” His words and his facial expression did not match.

“Then why are you smirking? I’m as serious as a heart attack. If you miss the ceremony where I’m awarded for my work, we’re gonna have some big problems Reyes.” She threatened, not letting that smirk get to her as it usually did. The club pulled him away a lot but some things she just needed him present for.

“Mmhm…how big?” He asked, still joking around.

“Angel!” She admonished, striking out to punch him in the stomach and making him grunt.

“You know I love when you scream my name. Sexy as fuck.” He growled, before playfully tackling her to the bed. She finally laughed as he kissed and nipped at her neck. He pulled back to look down in her eyes. “Hey, come hell or high water Imma be there. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

The smile she flashed him was bright enough to light the darkest of nights.

I'm tired of the fast lane I want you to have my last name

Dabbing her eyes with a napkin, Y/N smiled as Angel and EZ shared a heartfelt hug after the best man speech. She knew EZ’s speech would be beautiful and she thanked him for his kind words.

“You’re my sister for real now.” He responded, making her wanna cry again but she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before Angel pulled her into a side hug.

“First dance time.” He whispered in her ear, taking her hand and leading her out to the dance floor.

“How does it feel to be Y/N Reyes?” Angel asked, his eyes taking her in. She looked so magnificent in her wedding dress. He wanted to rip it off, but also he couldn’t take his eyes off how good she looked in it. If he shed some tears when she walked down that aisle, who could blame him?

“It feels like the most natural thing in the world. I’m so beyond honored to be Mrs. Angel Reyes.” She responded, her eyes filling with happy tears but she refused to let them fall. She just felt so overwhelmed with happiness. Even though he’d long gotten rid of the jacket, she loved that he actually wore a suit. He hardly ever wore one and it was a damn shame. He looked so delicious she couldn’t wait for them to get back home.

Y/N found herself really taking the moment in. Their family and friends watched them with huge smiles on their faces. She couldn’t keep her eyes off Angel for long as he held her in his arms, his hands always making her feel safe. This was her life and he was her future.

Her eyes twinkled as she asked him, “Ready for forever?”

Come close to me, baby (Yeah, love) Let your love hold you (Let me hold you tonight, babe) I know this world is crazy (It gets crazy, but I'll be right here) What's it without you? (We gon' make it, I love you, I love you, I love you)

#angel reyes #angel reyes x black!reader #black!reader #plus size reader #angel reyes x black!plus size!reader #hhgbyebruh fics #i know what you're thinking you're on my mind

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slashingdisneypasta · 3 years ago

Text

Kurt Kelly x Fem!Bitch!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Someone Gets Hurt

Plot: Some little wannabe steals away your boyfriend, Kurt, while also batting her big ass lashes and winning over your friends, too... until you've had enough. No one out bitches you.

Notes:

Obviously, this is inspired by Someone Gets Hurt from Mean Girls except with Regina (The reader) as the heroine.

Warnings: Overall bitchiness, possessiveness (You about Kurt), break ups (Make ups too though so its not too bad ^^), the ruining of another persons relationship (Random girl Lizzie and Kurt's), rapeiness (Ram), sexual references, underage drinking, overage drinking, just LOTS of debauchery over all, a smut bit near the end (Not full), etc.

Was I too proud with you? Was I too cold and forbidding? And you chose her over me Are you kidding?

Watching Kurt and Lizzie together this week has been torture. Terrible, burning, squeezing, not-at-all sexy torture.

Because Kurt, is yours.

He has always been yours. He was yours in kindergarten, he was yours in middle school, and he was yours all through highschool until this, unfortunate and butt fucking ugly, snag. Crossing your arms now and poisoning them with your eyes, you sit in the cafeteria... and think.

Just, think.

You don't gossip with your minions about all the bullshit going on in school, you don't discuss what you're going to do to the freshmen this year, no. Nothing. You're too busy... plotting.

There is no way in hell, that this pee-brained virgin bitch is going to steal your boyfriend, and not get paid back in turn. Its only fair- and you include interest, in your transactions like this.

One eye actually twitches, when Lizzie... the pee brained virgin bitch in question, gives Kurt a peck on the nose - oh so cute, but you don't even have to look at Kurt to see the disappointment flash in his eyes, - and hops off his lap when the bell rings. He has a free period now, you know because so do you and you usually spend it at the back of the football field together, but she has Chemistry, a thing you also know because hell- you just know everything. That's a basic fact. The whole school knows it and love that you never have to explain how you just fucking know shit.

But even being all knowing does not make you feel better, knowing that itty bitty roach-cunt has her claws embedded in your poor, weak-willed... ex boyfriends,... heart. Or his penis, more likely. Metaphorically speaking, obviously, because Lizzie's the 'Mary'est whore in the land of Westerberg High.

That doesn't really matter though. Either way, he's with her now and not you, and that just wont do.

Maggie, your right hand babe, gets up from your lunch table and leaves for her next class, too. And its only until she's out of sight, that you notice the piece of paper she left behind. Rolling your eyes, a growl of annoyance escapes you and you sigh- turning away from Kurt and Ram's table to see what the fuck it is. The reprieve is almost palpable, not looking at him anymore. It feels a little better- but not by much. And certainly not enough for you to forget what fuckery is going on.

Picking up the piece of paper in one perfectly manicured hand, you see that its an invitation. "Hmm... " Worrying the inside of your cheek, you think; This is interesting.

A Halloween party...

A gleeful smirk quirks slightly at the corners of your lips.

Kurt always did have a thing for Halloween.

And what you meant by 'Kurt always did have a thing for Halloween'- is 'Kurt always did have a boner for your Halloween costumes'. For the past several years, since the two of you blossomed with the help of puberty, you have used your assets as an advantage - because why else have them? - ; With the help of lace tights, push up bra's, winged eyeliner and red lipstick.

This year you've pulled together your favourite costume yet, which is fitting for the task at hand and the fact that its senior year- this may be your last chance to put these bottom dwelling highschool chuckleheads in their place.

I mean, you hope not but its basically a given.

Looking around the party as you walk in, you figure its just the same as any party Ram has thrown before. And his house is perfect for it, you'll give him that. The lights a turned down low enough that everyone looks a little hot, cooler's full of ice and alcohol are set up so you're never too far from a fix and thanks to his houses sound system the music is loud enough to make you think for a couple hours that you're in a place between reality and your dreams; A perfect set up for mistakes and one wild night.

But you aren't here to get drunk and kiss a loser, except for Kurt; You're here to take back the goddamn crown. Which getting Kurt back, will do. It'll humiliate Lizzie, and that's really all you want out of life right now.

Prowling through the crowd - which still knows to part for you, despite your current, slightly lower social standing, - in your knee high, shiny black leather boots, you look for someone to talk to. You know Maggie's here somewhere but that bitch is on her last life with you, after she said Lizzie's hair looked nice the other day. And you think some silent treatment will set her straight.

"Oh- Hi Ram." You find the host in the backyard, about to push an unsuspecting demoness into in a very sheer red blouse into the pool - which would doubtlessly make the blouse more of a red tint to her skin rather then any kind of coverage, which Ram well knows, - , and he double takes when he sees you. A sleazy, mischievous grin slops over his face at the sight, which makes you roll your eyes.

Deeply.

"Ohhh, heyyyy, Y/N!" He has to yell over the sound of the music and the other party-goers, not that you would mind if you didn't hear anything he said. He hasn't got a whole lot of substance, Ram, so you can basically assume that rolling your eyes is always the answer to anything he's saying. His eyes shift back, anxiously, to the girl he's currently got a hit out on, but you just raise your eyebrows sharply at him and he's at attention. "I didn't know you were gonna come! You know, with the state of things... "

Oh, he's so obnoxious. And dumb! So, so dumb. He doesn't know the half of your shit. Yet he still runs his mouth... Rolling your eyes once again, you flip some hair behind your head. "Oh don't worry your pretty little head about that, Ram." Eyes flickering around the party some more, searching for your own target, you rest your hands on your hips that are tightly bound, in various layers of violet georgette cloth. The witches hat on your head is pinned down, so theirs no chance of it flying off. You have a train of thinner fabric hanging down the back of your short-short skirt, and your tight tube top reveals exactly the shapes you require it to. "I'll be perfectly fine- oh, have you seen Kurt anywhere?"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh I think I saw him and Liz against a wall earlier- but by the looks of Liz, I doubt they're in a situation like that anymore." He chuckles, dumbly. The stupid boy has a slur in his voice that you hadn't noticed before but probably should've known would be there. But you're sure focusing in on him now, jealousy burning in your eyes at his description. What does that mean??

"What?"

A geek walks by, toting a bottle in his hands that Ram snatches for himself. As the kid continues by, faster now due to the angry look in Ram's eyes and the animalistic growl that slips from the footballers lips, you continue to glare bullets at Ram. He takes a messy swig of his beer before continuing. "Just sayin', Y/N. Your friend's a prude. Won' even let Kurt get to second base with 'er or anything. So I'd say Kurt's, probably, uhhh... by the pool table, now." He shrugs big round shoulders then, as relief and mirth wash over you. So he didn't mean they'd have moved their dirty little adventure to somewhere they could really get down, or anything. He means quite the opposite.

A smirk graces your red painted lips.

"Well- enjoy your party." You shrug, not really caring as his eyes shine... turning back to the demon girl who's just laughing with her friends; He sure will. Eyes narrowing, you mutter a bitter "Dick." under your breath, as a final bid to Ram.

Turning on your heel, you head back into the house. You've been here plenty of times with Kurt and know exactly where the pool table is (And how uncomfortable it is to be bent over) and sure enough- there he is.

Your boyfriend.

Or, soon-to-be, once-again boyfriend.

He's standing back with a stick, waiting for his turn as he laughs with some over football boneheads. Lizzie isn't here, but you suppose she could have gone to get a drink or talk to one her - your, - friends, but where she is actually doesn't concern your in this moment. All you can do right now, is stand and stare.

God, he's hot.

You miss him; You really do. And, admittedly- not just because he can fuck you like no one else.

But your moment passes, and you gather your wits. Ready.

You're hot, you're smart, and you're ruthless. You can do this.

Saddling up beside Kurt, a genuine smile slips across your face as you look up at him; Running a hand back through your hair. "Hey, Kurt." Slightly widening your eyes, you raise a brow as he turns to look down at you. "What's up?"

Like- its been a while. What have I missed?

Immediate 'Oooooh's and 'Oh no the ex- Kurt watch out!'s erupt from his meathead athlete friends, but what you care about is how Kurt struggles for a moment to tear his eyes away from yours, like the eyeliner you perfected and the colour and the just- you, has hypnotised him. He flashes his friends a wicked grin, waiving them off as he turns to put his body between you, and the group. It puts you so close together- and you sure don't step back any.

Then his eyes flicker down to the rest of you- and he really has a problem looking away. "Oh, uh, hey Y/N. N-nothing much. Uh... you look... "

A gentle chuckle flutters out of you, resting a hand on your right hip. "What? Black cat caught your tongue?"

Jesus- even the mention of that particular muscle reference to him does something to you. And being this close to him again, and seeing his reaction to your outfit... its all just so right. The way things should be.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but immediately closes it again on remembering something. A seriously awkward hm sound escapes him which you don't quite get yet, but you decide that you don't need to.

"So... " You start, getting rid of the tough bravado suddenly... letting awkwardness seep into your tone; Your appearance. On purpose. Eyes downcast, you let your arms slide down to your sides again, lacing your fingers together in front of you for a moment, pretending you're at a loss for words. "Um... maybe this is... weird... "

"What?" A big hand ghosts over your hip- you can just feel his skin graze against you.

You look up to catch his gaze again suddenly, lips and eyebrows scrunching after a moment, unsurely. "Uh, well... " Chewing innocently on your bottom lip, you hold your arms behind your back; not-at-all meaning to push out your chest more. No, not at all... "Me coming up to talk to you... since the break up... "

A hiss escapes him, as he suddenly, seemingly, like just seeing you had him returning to old habits, remembers that fact himself and takes a step back from you. Your brows knit together, up at him- perfectly pitiful.

"Oh man- yeah. Maybe. Fuck!" He runs a hand up through his hair, looking convincingly tortured.

Already!

You could rejoice.

Oh, Kurt... we've only just started.

Sighing, you look away again. "Look, I'm sorry. I just... well, Kurt, I've missed you!"

Suddenly his eyes, still and focused, turn more sternly down on you and your insides squirm at it. Like muscle memory, your body screams for you to back up; Get on your knees, bat your lashes. Ask what's wrong, Daddy?

His eyes narrow, and you resist the temptation to smirk. "Oh- no. No, Y/N. I know what you're doing, okay? I'm not dumb! This is all just too... too... " The fact that he cant even really speak, even as he's trying to be all tough and put up walls between you two, really gives you confidence. You must still really have an effect on him- as you should. Of course you do. One week with a little lily livered slut bag does not erase an entire lifetime between two people. Kurts lips curl into a scowl. "You're not like this." He states, and you raise your brows. Oh? "You're manipulating me, aren't you? Come on, Y/N!"

His tone is pleading. He's begging, you.

Damn, he must really want Miss Lizzie's little ass.

After a moment, you shrug. "Okay, whatever, you got me." Shedding the innocent act, you lean back on the pool table as the boys continue to play; Laying yourself out for him. "Does that mean I was lying? No, I really do miss you."

He scoffs. "Yeah, right." Rolling his own eyes, he focuses his gaze off somewhere else in the party- rather then on you. "All you care about is your reign of terror."

Oh... he knows that's not true.

But still, if he's going to play that way- "Yeah, sure- and all you care about is pussy." Shrugging, you drum your fingers bordly against the edge of the table on either side of you. "I guess we're a pair."

"Fuck, Y/N... you know you're... y-you're... Damn, that I love you. You fucking know that." He hisses, getting mad. And you inwardly smirk.

There it is...

Tightening your grip now, you look up at him to see he's once again looking at you. And for a moment, amongst all the madness that party's are- it feels like its just you two. "And you know... I love you."

Pushing off the pool table, you stalk towards him and trace your hands up his chest; Locking your arms around his neck lazily, and resting your chest against his. And you can see it. You can see, the struggle inside him about whether to just give into you- and your tits and your lips and your hips, and- just, you! Or to stay away. Because you're poison; Even you're well aware of that fact.

You're like a boa constrictor. You get yourself wrapped around your victim and you squeeze, and squeeze, and squeeze... until you have them just how you want them. Moulded into a shape that works well, for you.

But he's a lion. Imposing, and selfish, and self serving. And too big for you to ruin.

Its like you said; You're a pair.

And you cannot give him up.

"Kurt... come on." Leaning up, and talking in a quiet, just-for-him voice now, your lips brush against his and he lets out a shuddering breath. "We belong together, don't we? Its us- forever. You've known it since second grade. Sure, it took me a few more years to realise it too, but we're here now." Sincerity bleeds into your tone; Something you can't help when he looks like he wants to kiss you so badly, like that. "It can't be you and her." It cant. Tilting your head to the side, teasingly, you smirk mischievously; Just for him. "Is she going to fuck you like I do?"

"Shit... " Kurt mutters, eyes stuck on your lips. His hands find your waist, gathering you up against him roughly like he always does when he just wants you. Animalistically, wherever you are- whoever sees be fucking damned.

But he still isn't taking you. And that's a problem.

Brushing a thumb over his bottom lip, you turn your head like your making out to kiss him- but don't. Furrowing your eyebrows, you look pleading at him for an answer. "Was it all a lie, then? With us? Were we?- "

And that does it- he's had enough- he's at boiling point- Lips smash into yours, crossing the centimetre of space between them and he doesn't fuss around at all, to warm up. Your tongues connect almost instantly, and in 0.2 seconds, you two are that moaning, making out mess couple that every party has.

Through your lust filled haze, you can just about feel victorious.

A few moments after that your back hits the closest wall, and your legs wrap around his waist as he holds you up- you two know the drill by now. Kurt's grinding his raging hard on deliciously through his jeans into your bare cunt- moaning and muttering something into your cheek as he sloppily makes his way down to your breasts about you being such a slut.

You REALLY don't mind.

Eyes half lidded, you catch sight of Lizzie in the crowd behind Kurt. The crowd that, apart from her, doesn't care at all what the two of you are doing.

You smirk absolutely evilly towards her, before mouthing 'mine'.

#Kurt Kelly x Reader #Kurt Kelly x Fem!Reader #Bitch Reader #Mean Girl Reader #Mean Girls #Mean Girls the Musical #Heathers #Heathers x Reader #Kurt Kelly x Reader Oneshot #Ram Sweeney

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mochegato · 4 years ago

Text

A Kind of Wonderful

Tim stumbled up to the counter, his friend’s arm holding him back the only thing preventing him from crashing into it. The black haired barista watched him with an amused smile. “Can I help you two?” she asked looking between the two of them.

“The strongest coffee you have,” Tim begged. “In the largest size you have.”

She smirked at him. “How strong were you thinking? That can be dangerous.”

He perked up slightly, the promise of strong coffee encouraging him out of his daze. “I can handle it,” he assured her.

“He’ll love you forever if you can give him something that keeps him awake for the next week… without putting drugs in it,” his companion urged her. “Espresso for me, please.”

She nodded at the companion with a smile and returned her focus to Tim. “I might have a secret recipe I can use, but only for someone very special,” she disclosed in a secretive voice.

“I’m special,” Tim insisted, leaning in to match her tone.

“Oh, he’s definitely that,” his friend snorted.

The barista charged his card and moved to start their orders with a wink. Tim watched her closely as she worked, which the barista definitely noted, if her posturing, smirk, and constant eye flicks to him were any indication. After only a few minutes, she turned back to them with their drinks. She barely acknowledged the friend’s thank you, focusing entirely on Tim to see if he liked her concoction.

Tim took a hesitant sip and his eyes immediately brightened. He turned to the barista with a brilliant, grateful smile. “Thank you Coffee Goddess. This is amazing.”

“Coffee Goddess?” she asked with a shy smile.

“A deserved title after this. How did you do it?” he pressed, leaning closer.

“Trade secret,” she grinned with a wink. “Guess you’ll have to keep coming back to get more. By the way, that isn’t your name on the cup… or your number, though I’d love to have those…. If you’re not seeing anyone,” she added hesitantly, eyeing his companion.

“He isn’t,” his companion threw in. The glare Tim sent was meant to emulate Batman’s. It was meant to strike fear and inspire silence, but instead resulted in an indifferent shrug.

“Oh, okay. Well, feel free to use them… if you want.” She bit her lip as she moved to the next customer.

“Um… I’ll think about it. Thank you again,” he raised the coffee cup up to her and waved nervously with his other hand.

Once safely out the door, Tim eyed his coffee suspiciously. “We can never go back there,” he grumbled into his cup. “This is really good though… maybe I can send someone to get it for me instead,” he mused.

His friend side eyed him as they walked. “What are you talking about?”

Tim looked at her with wide eyes. “I can’t go back in there… she gave me her number. She was… flirting.”

She laughed. “And? She’s cute. And you didn’t seem to mind. You were watching her awfully intently there and there was an awful lot of leaning, by both of you.”

“Because I wanted to see if I could figure out what she was doing!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. “This is great coffee, Marinette. I don’t want to have to wait for open hours to get it.”

“You know, if you date her, you wouldn’t just see her during store hours. She could make it for you whenever,” she pointed out.

“But then I’d have to date her.” Tim wrinkled his nose at the thought. “I don’t want to date her. I just want the coffee.”

Marinette shook her head and kept walking straight ahead, refusing to look at him. “It wouldn’t kill you to get out and go on a date once in a while. It’s at least been since before you met me since you have. She even took the first step for you. You don’t have to agonize over whether or not she likes you. She gave you her number. She does. She’s cute, sweet, a coffee goddess apparently,” the description came out a bit more bitterly than she had intended. She quickly cleared her throat to get back on topic. “And interested. You should go for it. Have some fun.”

“Yeah, not interested,” he scoffed, rushing to keep up with her. “And I have plenty of fun. I have fun with you.”

“Why not? And you can have a different kind of fun with her.”

“I just don’t think it would work out,” he said awkwardly, refusing to look over at her as they walked. “I like the fun we have.”

“You’re crazy. She’s everything you look for in someone,” she insisted, giving him an exasperated look.

“Just drop it, Marinette,” he snapped. He wasn’t happy with the conversation and he wasn’t even sure why, which was even more frustrating because he always knew what was going on. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine, but she gave you her number. You should use it,” she argued, turning back in the direction they were walking.

“I don’t want her number, I want yours,” he yelled exasperated, then froze. He wanted her number? He did? When did that happen? That was unexpected. He was not prepared for this conversation. He needed to figure out what he meant by that before she demanded he explain it to her. Maybe they could pretend it never happened. What was the likelihood she would just let this go and not discuss it? He groaned internally, damned unlikely is what it was. She was going to want to discuss this. He would have to think of a way to distract her.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you have my number” she said, waving him off and continuing to walk.

He stared at her back as she walked away. His mouth dropped open in shock. What the hell? How could she miss that? Why would she want to ignore that? “I meant I want to date you, not her,” he called after her. Well, fuck. This was not the conversation he meant to have.

She paused midstep ahead of him and turned around slowly, wide eyed and mouth parted in surprise. “What?”

She couldn’t really be that surprised could she? She had to have known. She had to have known how he felt, what their relationship was building up to. He might be an oblivious idiot but she wasn’t. They were together constantly… maybe not as much lately, but until the last month or so they’d been inseparable almost since they met. They hung out together, they ate together, they plotted and researched together, they laughed together, and on occasion, napped together.

“When did that happen? I mean… I… Since when?” she stuttered, the surprise in her eyes turning to confusion.

That was a fair question. One he didn’t have the answer to. When did he start feeling this way? Maybe it was the distance over the past month that made him realize he wanted her, that he missed her when she wasn’t there. That he needed her. She brought him back from the edge. She made his life brighter. She made him smile when she was near him. He missed her touch. He missed feeling her. He missed the way he felt when she was near. He didn’t know when it started, he just knew it was. “Now?”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure, Tim.” She turned around and kept walking.

His brow furrowed involuntarily. That was… unexpected. He was prepared for horror. He was prepared for annoyance. A small part of him was even prepared for excitement. What he wasn’t prepared for was avoidance.

“Hey! What do you mean ‘Sure, Tim’?” He moved to get in front of her. He sure as hell didn’t mean to start this conversation, but it had started. They were having it.

“I mean whatever, Tim. Funny. Come on, we’re going to be late,” her voice was suddenly tired.

“I just confessed I like you and that’s all you have to say?” He could see the disbelief radiating from her. She didn’t believe anything he was saying. Why didn’t she believe him? “I wasn’t joking.”

“Sure you weren’t. You suddenly decided after another girl flirted with you that actually you wanted me flirting with you. After not being remotely interested in me that way up until this exact moment.”

Well when she put it that way, it sounded stupid. But it was stupid. He was stupid. He hadn’t realized he liked her until now. And someone else flirting with him was exactly what made him realize it. “Yes?”

She rolled her eyes and turned away to keep walking, her shoulders slumped slightly as she walked. “I’m not doing this today. I’m not in the mood to play pretend.”

“But you’re ready to pretend this never happened? That I never confessed?” he questioned, slightly more hostilely than he intended.

She turned back to face him, a dangerous look in her eyes. “I don’t have to pretend for that. But I am willing to pretend you didn’t just say something like that just to mess with me.” She took a deep breath and fixed him with a hard stare. “God, read the fucking room, Tim. This isn’t funny and it never was,” she growled.

“I’m not just messing with you,” he was close to yelling. Why was it so hard for her to believe he meant it? “She was flirting with me and you were just… okay with it. You were encouraging it and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like that you didn’t care. And yeah, I’m sorry. I’m stupid because I didn’t realize. I didn’t realize that’s how I felt. I didn’t like that it wasn’t you flirting with me. I wanted it to be you.”

“It was me,” she yelled back at him. “It was me flirting with you. For months. You never reciprocated or even noticed. Now? Now you’re interested? After I finally stopped? After I tried to move on and just support you like a normal friend would?”

Tim subconsciously rubbed his chin. That explained why Jason had seemed so intent on landing his punches in their spars the last few weeks. God, Jason figured it out before he did. “You… you never said…”

“Fuck you. I said,” she seethed, poking her finger into his chest. “I said it in a million ways. You can decipher that someone is planning an attack from the way a finger twitches and you couldn’t figure out I liked you when I was laying in your lap? It was embarrassing. It was pathetic. And you never noticed. And I have to believe the only reason for it is because you. Didn’t. Want. To.”

“No! No that’s not… You said you were just comfortable there,” he objected, cringing as the words came out of his mouth. God he was stupid.

“I told you I needed you and you told me to ‘finish the sentence. I’m not a mind reader, that’s Alfred.’” She continued in a mocking impersonation of his voice.

Oh God… he had said that. He remembered that interaction perfectly. He had thought she just needed to sleep. She had been up on a design spree for more than a day and hadn’t been getting good sleep for the week before that either. It never occurred to him… “It wasn’t because I didn’t want to, it’s because I’m an idiot.”

Marinette scoffed, which he supposed was a better reaction than yelling again. “You’re a fucking genius, Timmy. Literally a fucking genius.”

“But that’s… that’s not emotions. I would never think… you could have anyone. Literally anyone. Why me?” His face was scrunched up in confusion and his voice desperate like none of this made sense to him and for the first time he couldn’t see what was happening or why.

“I…” she opened and closed her mouth a few times. “What?” She blinked at him a few times. “No. I meant what I said. I can’t do this right now. Get over whatever tantrum this is you’re throwing and I’ll see you later.” She stalked away, throwing her barely touched espresso in the trash as she walked, no longer having the stomach for it.

He watched as she left, uncertain how to proceed now, how to save this, because now that he’d realized, now that he knew, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t. Now that he finally knew what that feeling that came up every time he thought about her was, he couldn’t ignore it. And he couldn’t let it slip through his fingers just as he was realizing it. She had put herself out there so many times, he would have to do the same if he wanted to show her how serious he was.

He was going to have to do something huge to get her to understand this wasn’t just a passing fancy. He loved her. It developed so slowly, he almost missed it. Not almost. He had missed it. But now that he thought about it, he did. He loved her. He loved everything about her. He loved her passion. He loved her compassion. He loved her spark, her sass, her wit. He loved her smile and the way her eyes shined when she spoke about the thinks she loved. He loved her and he was going to win her back.

<><><><><>

Marinette pushed back from her sewing machine, stretching her back out after her hours long design session she had forced herself into rather than thinking about her earlier interaction with Tim. She wasn’t sure how she wanted to proceed from here but she wasn’t proud of the way she had reacted. On the one hand, she still loved him and he just realized he loved her too… so what was the problem? On the other hand, what the fuck was that timing!

She furrowed her brows at the sound of water hitting outside. It hadn’t been raining when she’d started sewing. And it hadn’t been in the forecast… She walked over to her balcony to investigate and screeched at the unexpected sight of someone standing right outside her balcony door. Her jaw dropped when she took a second, calmer look. Tim was standing on her balcony looking forlorn, his black hair plastered to his forehead and his hand reaching out to gently touch the door’s glass.

Her heart stuttered in her chest seeing him on her balcony. How long had he been standing there! It looked like it was pouring out. Her body jerked with the realization. He needed to come inside before he got sick! She rushed to open the door for him, but paused a few feet from the door. She quirked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. That rain was awfully… centralized. She looked down and shook her head, refusing to let him see her smile so quickly.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Fuck off, Kon,” she mumbled to the floor.

“Yes, ma’am,” she heard yelled from somewhere in the sky as the ‘rain’ immediately ended. She waited a few seconds for Kon to get far enough away with whatever contraption he had created to cause the rain effect, before she opened the door for Tim.

She finally met his eyes with a soft gaze. She puckered her lips to keep from smiling. “Really? Like some kind of Nicholas Sparks novel?” she said in mock exasperation.

Tim gave her a hesitant smile. Teasing. Teasing he could do. Teasing was normal for them. “Come on, give me some credit,” he scoffed. “More John Hughes movie than anything else.”

She let out a breath of relief and cocked her hip. “John Hughes, huh?”

“They’re good movies, Mari,” he nodded, his face set in mock seriousness. He started to take a step into her apartment but stopped, slowly setting his foot back down where it had been.

Marinette shook her head and grabbed his shirt, pulling him into the apartment and close enough to her he could easily caress her face or run his hands through her hair or set his hands on her hips, all of which he desperately wanted to do. “You’re a dork.”

“Yeah,” he nodded in agreement. His voice was quiet, afraid to break the comfortable feeling they had created. “I’m a dork and an idiot and undeserving and unworthy and sorry. So very sorry.”

Marinette shook her head and looked down. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she whispered. When she looked back up, he saw the tears that had escaped and started rolling down her face.

He reached out to wipe away the tears, moving closer until they were almost flush against each other. “But more than anything, I’m in love,” he cupped her face, letting his thumbs gently stroke her cheeks, “and praying I didn’t realize it too late. Please tell me I didn’t mess this up, Marinette, because I do. I love you. I love your heart. I love your determination. I love your intelligence. I love your kindness. I love your creativity. I love the way you make me feel when I’m with you. I love the way you make me feel like I’m enough and want to be better at the same time. I love you. But if I took too long, if you don’t want that anymore, I can… I’ll back off. Whatever you want.”

Marinette stared at him for a few moments, her face went blank until more tears started falling. Tim sucked in a sharp breath. His heart started pounding in realization. She had moved on. She didn’t want this. He leaned back to pull his hands away from her so she didn’t feel like he was forcing himself on her, but before his hands had even left her face she surged forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down to meet her lips.

Suddenly she stopped and pulled away, looking at him with wide eyes. “Sorry! Sorry. I should have asked first. That was just so beautiful… but I shouldn’t have…” The rest of her sentence was swallowed up by his lips. He moved his hands to cradle her head as he kissed her. Her arms tightened around his neck when he moved his head slightly to deepen the kiss, pulling him even closer.

After a few minutes they pulled away incrementally, just enough to catch their breath. Their eyes met and Marinette began giggling, overwhelmed by all the emotions she’d gone through that day. Tim soon joined in, pulling her close again in a tight hug. “Thank God,” he whispered into her hair. “I was so scared.”

Marinette nodded into his chest. “Me too.” She pulled away and looked up at him with a sweet smile. “Want to dry off and watch a movie?”

He looked at her hesitantly. “Can I… can we…” He took a breath to focus himself. “I don’t want to stop holding you yet.”

Marinette grinned brightly. “I think cuddling during the movie can be arranged.” Tim grinned back and pulled her into another kiss. “That sounds wonderful,” he whispered into her lips.

#maribat #timinette #timari #This is not a meet cute #you've been warned

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