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adventuringblind · 9 months ago

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All too Real

Norstappen x Reader

Genre: Smut and Horror (if you squint)

Summary: Max was supposed to be gone, so why is he here? More importantly, why does his hand on her mouth forceful movements have her bothered?

Warnings: Consensual non-consent, Knife play, Impact play, choking, Corruption, Bondage, Mean Dom Max, Sub Lando and Reader, PinV, Anal, Minor blood, Marking, Sensory deprivation, Max is really sweet in this I swear but it's really dark during the scene.

Notes: For the requester who sent me this, I didn’t think I was gonna be able to do it. Be proud of me please! T_T

Side Note: I appreciate everyone who sent me ideas! I can't wait to explore this dynamic more!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

The moon illuminates the sky of Monaco. It’s past midnight; a time where people should be asleep.

Her and Lando sleep on Max’s side of the bed. He’d left earlier this evening to head back to Redbull HQ. He’d not specified what exactly they needed from him. Only that it was urgent fenough for him to get on a plane that same day. Not much of a hassles considering he has his own.

Max had promised he’d make as quick as he could and might even be back the following night. Still, it sucks not having him around at night. He has a way of making them feel much safer when he’s around. Which might just be because he looks intimidating despite being the embodiment of a teddy bear, but who is she to say?

He’d never hurt them. Is even picky about it during sex. Like he’s afraid he’ll shatter them if he lets go enough.

That could be why the hand clasped around her throat and palm over her mouth scare her into compliance. Being met with familiar eyes in this situation is not something anybody wants.

Her heavy breaths are muffled against Max’s hand. The menacing glint that over takes cerulean blue is something she’s only seen when he gets competitive.

The hand around her throat comes off slowly and fishes something from his pocket. A piece of cloth makes its way to her mouth. He slips it in underneath his hand, gagging her and stopping her from forming any coherent words.

She complies with his harsh movements. No point in fighting him, he’s too strong for that. He pulls zip ties from somewhere - probably his pocket again - and wrangles her wrists behind her.

The adrenaline coursing through every fiber of her being only gets worse when he tosses her onto the floor and repeats the actions for Lando. A bit different. A hand over his eyes instead of around his throat.

the Brit fights back more then she did. He’s unable to see who it is he’s fighting, making things more difficult for Max. The inkling he might win out is soon discarded as he is pinned to the bed underneath Max’s weight.

The sweats and boxers come down with ease, leaving the Brit entirely bare. Max leaves him there, only able to yell into the cloth and thrashing around trying to escape. A bit useless without his hands.

Max pulls her upward, back onto the bed next to Lando. He stand at the edge and pulls his own shirt off. “So pretty and helpless, all for me.” The sound of the switchblade opening has her eyes watering. He crawls over her, the moon glinting off the metal as he moves. “Innocent and ready to be broken by me. Only, for me.”

The flat of the blade runs against her skin. “Would you like that? I’d keep you safe, tucked away, only for me to play with. All mine.” The knife tip presses into her skin. She sucks in through her teeth, far too aroused by this new side of max. He gently drags the sharp point against her. It dawns on her that she wants this. She craves Max marking her.

Max slips the knife under where her panties are resting her hip. He cuts away the dainty piece of fabric. “What do you think Lando? Which one of you should I break first?” He flips Lando over onto his back. Both of them being eaten alive by his gaze, like a hunter who has successfully captured his prey.

She’s glad to see she’s not the only one aroused. The hard-on Lando is sporting has Max licking his lips. He’s whining and whimpering into the gag. He teases Lando’s aching cock with the dull end and His back arches off the bed. His spine bending him further into the sensation.

Max pulls away, leaving Lando writhing. He grabs her by the ankle and pulls her level to Lando’s crotch. Instinctively, she opens her mouth. Which is a great decision as he shoves her head into Lando. Choked by surprise and unprepared. He grabs the back of her head and holds her there. “Do you want to breathe, schat? Or are you being pliant because you’re just that much of a slut?”

The bit of air she had in her lungs starts to deplete. The lightheaded feeling has tears running down her cheeks. Max doesn’t pull her off until she’s frantically trying to pull herself off. He keeps his hand on her, not letting her go far. “Big breath for me.” She inhales as deep as she can and he solves her back down.

Large hands - Max’s hands - force her legs apart. He slips two fingers in her and aggressively pumps them in and out. “Awe, still so tight but so. Fucking. Wet~” Each word punctuated with a progressively harder thrust. er body moves back and forth according to Max’s will helping her make Lando get some relief.

In a few quick movements, he has rid himself of the rest of his clothes. He climbs back on top and throws on old her legs over his shoulder. He doesn’t giver her time to think about it. “Fuck, you feel so good for me. Look at you! You’re crying for it!” The pace he sets is unrelenting. Each snap of his hips has her choking further on Lando.

She can feel Lando trying to rut his hips and the sharp sound from Max’s hand hitting his bare skin. Lando shrieks in pain and stops his moving. “You get what I give you. You are mine, remember? Or are you already fucked dumb because of her pretty mouth?”

Curse Max and his good stamina. She’s helpless to push him off her, struggling to breathe, the knife now pressing into her hip. The first cut is quick and clean. A light little thing that barely stings. The second one is harder. Same for the following ones; each more drawn out then the last despite being relatively the same size.

She’s wailing, crying, the lines between pleasure and pain have faded into each other. She finished at some point but Max hasn't stopped. In fact, he's going harder.

His voice is surrounding her. It's falling over her despite both their desperate cries.

Everything stops far to abruptly. Max pulls out of her and drags Lando away. The crying starts when she doesn't know where either of them are. Lost in all the mixed feelings; the adrenaline, pleasure, and pain.

The blood running down her thigh is warm and think. She wonders, briefly, if it's staining the sheets beneath her.

"Come on schat, you can take it." Make coos it so gently despite the despite monas coming from behind Lando's gag. "Or do you need more? Is that what all these desperate noises are for? You're a slut who needs it all?"

Max is the puppet master and her and Lando are attached to the strings. The Brit is shoved between her legs. Neither of them standing a chance.

Her overstimulated pussy is once again subjected to the brutality of Lando. More Max, with the way she can see Max pressed behind him, snapping his hips.

Lando is screaming into her shoulder. She's to fucked to even think about Max and the fact he's not even supposed to be here.

Max stutters. Lando finished ages ago, She counts three. Hers started blurring together and just didn't stop.

The silence as Max slows down is to much. She need him to talk, she'll except anything at this point.

The blood from Lando's thigh is sticking to her. They match now and she isn't even sure when it happened.

Max doesn't pull out of Lando, he runs his fingers across Lando's skin and pulls his blindfold off. Next comes the gag, hers and Lando's. Neither of them can say anything.

No, the tears start instead of the words. Max scrambles to get them situated comfortably on the bed and turns the lights on. He leans them against his own body, whispering to them about how good they did.

"Was that to much? Did I take it to far? I tried to hit everything you said and I think I did-"

"Good, overwhelmed, scary." Lando pants against his skin.

She tries to get Max to pet her head. He gets the hint and complies. "You went to the Milton-Keynes. Did you plan this?"

"I've spent the last two months researching, preparing, and planning. Mostly because Lando said that I wouldn't do it."

"I said you thought we were fragile and you were to scared to actually do it."

"And do you still think that?" Lando shakes his head. The blush on his cheeks evident behind the tear tracks.

"Max-" she whines. "-The sheets ae red now."

"I know love, just wanted to calm down before I moved you two anywhere. First I'll get you patched up, which I already have the first aid ready. Next is a bath and I will change our sheets because I purchased new ones. Then food and water and me showering you in my affection."

Her and Lando look at each other and both of them break out into smiley giggles. "Max, did you know that we love you?"

"The fact you're not trying to run the opposite direction of me makes me think that." Max carries them one by one to the bathroom counter. "I actually thought I went to far the second Lando started fighting me."

"Then I heard your voice and got hard." Lando proudly points out. His attempts at reassuring the dutchman that he had a good time.

"Next time, I'm ditching the blindfold."

"This implies there will be a next time."

"If there is, can we maybe not bite my dick off?"

She looks away, embarrassed at the act of trying to cannibalize her poor boyfriend.

"Do you two know how long we went for? Lan, she had her jaw like that for over a half hour."

Lando gapes at him. "I owe you a jaw massage... but please, I would like to keep my best asset attached."

Her and Max roll their eyes. Her delirious laughs fill the space as Max runs the bath. "Nah, your best feature is your mouth."

"Is that because of my tongue?"

Max glances over his shoulder. "No, it's because it's big, loud, and creates these scenarios."

Not like she can complain. She did want it and so did Lando. And with the 'MV' now plastered to their thighs, she can't help but think Max enjoyed himself a little too.

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noemilivv · 10 months ago

Note

Heyy! I loved the request you wrote about reader finding Hazbin Hotel characters crying and then comforting them, I was thinking, could you write a pt. 2 adding some other characters? maybe Charlie, Husk, Sir Pentious and Adam, or anyone else you’d like 💓💕💞💖

OMG TYSM!! honestly, that is one of my works that i am EXTREMELY proud of and hearing people enjoying that one is just 😭😭

but yes i can certainly do that haha hope you enjoy!!

also side note, since i got two requests that are pretty similar, i’m doing a two-in-one sorta thing!! so i hope this makes it to the anon who requested it :)

Warnings: Swear Words, S1 Spoilers, Mentions of Battles/War, Mentions of Possible Death, Mentions of Deals, Mentions of Degradation, Not Proofread

Adam, Charlie, Husk, Sir Pentious x Reader

Reader finds them crying HCs

Adam

Adam was never one for tears, he was a man, the first one at that! His pride would never let himslef ever be perceived as weak.

But once he got sent to Hell, after his death during the extermination, while that damn snake was in his place — the only feeling he felt was weakness.

Adam had stayed in his room in the hotel ever since he came, begrudgingly that is, he didn’t want to be here. He shouldn’t be here.

But somehow, Charlie somehow let him come, much to his surprise, as well as dismay, but let’s be real here, he’d he pissed either way.

He curled up against the pillow, sighing, shakily, as hot tears slipped down his cheeks. “Damnit.”

Unbeknownst to him, a knock came from the other side of the door, Charlie made you drop off Adam’s ‘Welcome Package’ — When you didn’t get a response you creaked open the door.

“Adam?” You called from the other side of the room. He didn’t look at you, he couldn’t look at you.

“Leave.” He said, his voice cracking, despite the fact that he was attempted to hold back his sobs.

You set down his basket from Charlie on his nightstand. He felt his bed dip as you sat next to him. “It’s cause you’re here right?”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Adam sniffled. “Why you’re upset. It’s cause your here, right?” You elaborate.

He doesn’t say anything. You rub his knee, in attempts to comfort him. “I promise, it’s not as bad here as you think.”

You sigh. “I didn’t think it’d be great here when I first came here either, but this became my home - my family. You’ll get used to it, with time.”

Adam didn’t say anything. But deep down, his heart felt just a tad bit warmer from your words.

Charlie

Due to the upcoming extermination, Charlie was more stressed than ever, she was upset with herself. Upset that her and Heaven couldn’t band together. Upset that it had to end in this way.

Apart of herself grew to worry that maybe if she had been different, more normally, less singy-songy, Adam would’ve agreed.

Then no second meeting would’ve been necessary, no war would be needed.

The night before the battle was a tough one for Charlie, she loved and appreciated everyone she had met throughout her time, and within the blink of an eye, there was a 50/50 chance it’ll all be gone this time tomorrow.

“Charlie?” You called out to your girlfriend, who was crying infront of Angel’s door, “Sorry…” She mumbled, “I’m just so scared…” Her voice cracked, you’ve never seen her so… out of sorts, before.

“What if we lose?” She asked, rhetorically. “You’ve already done so much, Charlie.” You start, pulling her close, cupping her face.

“You’ve touched the hearts every soul here… Regardless of whether or not they admit it.” You run you fingers through her hair, you were scared to, scared shitless, but you put on a brave face. A brave face for her.

“So if it turns out that we don’t make it, there’s something that I’ve been dying to say.” You pull her into a hug, before mumbling in her ear, “You need to know I love you more than anything.”

Husk

You had caught Husk in his vulnerability at a private time. You knew about his deal with Alastor, but never knew the extent of it.

“Good talk, my good man, always nice to catch up!” Alastor said, leaving Husker defenseless, shaking on the floor, as you hid on the other side of the hall.

Husk got up, slowly, and then leaned against the wall, muttering a small ‘Damnit…’

You approached him, “Are you okay?” You ask, very hesitantly, you know Husk is more of a listener then someone to vent, but there was no harm in trying.

Husk sighs, low and gruff, but so hurt, it hurt you. “Made a shitty deal I regret, and I can’t take it back, y’know.” Husk answered, using his claw to wipe a few tears from under his eyes.

You’re unsure of what to do, you’ve never seen him like this, you smile at him softly, and open your arms for him, “Hug?”

Husk chuckles at your innocent antics, “Seriously?” He asks with a smirk, “Totally seriously!”

He sighs jokingly, clambering over to you, accepting your embrace. “This is so stupid.”

“You know you love it!” And you’re right, he did.

Sir Pentious

It was no secret that Pentious wanted to be an equal to the Vee’s, at least, before he officially started staying at the hotel.

And when Vox called him a ‘miserable failure’, it hit hard.

When Sir Pentious entered his room for the night, he shooed his eggs away, left with a sour taste in his mouth from Vox’s words.

A knock comes from Pentious’ door, he goes to answer it, trying to sniffle away his tears, he opened the door to see you.

“I just wanted to say you did a good thing, you’re willing to change even after you fucked up, and honestly I admire tha— Pentious, are you okay?” You rambled on, before getting a good look at his face.

He sniffled. “Y-Yes, I just.. don’t appreciate what Vox said about me.” He said, holding back his sobs, although not very well.

Your heart ached for the poor snake, you pulled him into a hug and patted him on the back, “If he can’t see the amazing Pentious I see, then he’s not worth it, we only met today, but I can already see what a wonderful person you are.”

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the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 5 months ago

Text

Second Chances

Love Bites, Epilogue // Love Bites {Masterlist}

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x fem!vampire spawn!elf!Tav/reader

Summary: Home is a place and home is people. You have quite the large family now, and it's time to provide for them, however you may.

Word Count: 5,729 words

Warnings: 18+, slice of life, spawn ending, Astarion is reunited with his parents, wedding planning, Astarion experimenting with his boundaries, open-ended

18+ Warnings: consensual touching, consensual sex, utilizing Elvish anatomy, fingering, biting, handjob, taking it slow, check-ins, aftercare

Notes: Thank you to everyone who's read Love Bites! I will eventually be adding more to this universe in this future; if you have any requests (add-ons to this story or otherwise), DM me!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

It was an unusually busy night for the tavern. Between the patrons sitting at your bartop and the servers bustling back and forth between their tables and the bar with drink orders, you’d hardly had a moment to slow down and breathe—so it was a good thing you no longer needed to breathe.

One of your patrons—a regular from before your time with a tadpole in your head—paid his dues and wished you a good night. You sent him off with a smile and a wave and cleared away his empty glass. You hardly had the time to wash the glass before someone cleared their throat behind you.

“I’ll be with you in just a second,” you started, not even looking over your shoulder.

Your visitor giggled. “Oh, bartender, give me a glass of your best red,” he drawled. You turned around with a smile and found your fiancé leaning on your bartop, a dopey, pretty smile on his face.

“Wait your turn like the rest of these lovely people,” you teased, gesturing to your full bar. Regardless, you leaned over the bar and kissed him quickly.

Astarion chuckled. “Oooo, whatever would the owner say, seeing the bartender kissing her customers?”

You rolled your eyes. “Good thing I’m the owner, then, hmm?”

Astarion grinned. “Oh, yes.”

“Did you just get back from the Underdark?” you asked, making another cocktail as you talked.

He nodded. “Yes. They’re all doing fine down there, darling, I promise. I’ll tell you all about it when we get home.”

“You haven’t been home yet?”

He caught and kissed the back of your hand. “No, I came straight here, I thought you could use the help on a busy night.”

You smiled at him. “Aren’t you sweet? Let me get back to work, love, and I’ll get back to you when it slows down, alright?” You kissed his cheek one last time and went back to the server trying to catch your attention—another vampire spawn with a table-full of drinks to make.

It had taken almost a year after the business with the Netherbrain, but you’d gotten here, with Astarion by your side. You had expected it to take longer to get to this point: a tavern owned and operated by vampires, keeping some of the seven thousand spawn Astarion had freed when he killed his master occupied and a place that welcomed them. Those who didn’t live and work at the tavern had made a place for themselves in the Underdark and visited frequently.

Public reception hadn’t been great at first. You had just filled a business in a respectable part of town with dangerous creatures, you hadn’t expected Baldur’s Gate to be enthusiastic. But, by some miracle, it had worked. The spawn kept their hands—and their teeth—to themselves, drinking from wild animals and from the blood spared by the butcher shop just down the road. With help from you and Astarion, a community had formed around your little tavern, one that stretched all the way into the Underdark.

For having seven thousand new “children,” you and Astarion were doing fairly good for yourselves. You’d even had the time to do some adventuring here and there when your companions called for your help. It had been some months since you’d picked up a weapon, but you were hoping this dry spell would be over quickly—you had Gale searching for a pair of Sunwalker rings rumored to be in Waterdeep, and the sooner you got Astarion back into the sunlight, the better. Dalyria was attempting to find or make a cure for vampirism, but she hadn’t found anything yet, so the rings were your best bet for the time being.

As always, the hours passed quickly. Before you knew it, you were sending the last of the servers home well before sunup. You and Astarion closed up together and locked the door when you left. He slipped his hand into yours as you started walking home.

“The long way or the short way?” he asked.

“The short way,” you said. “I can’t wait to climb into bed.”

Astarion kissed your cheek. “Oh, I wholeheartedly agree, darling. I still can’t get over the joy of sleeping on an actual bed—and with you beside me.”

You snorted. “And not your stupid plank and bedroll?”

He rolled his eyes. “I was making due with what I had!”

You giggled and leaned into him. “I know, I know. We did pretty good for ourselves back then, didn’t we?”

Astarion looked at you fondly. “We did,” he said, kissing your temple. “We did.”

Home was just around the corner—the place Astarion had grown up and where so many of your best memories were. Now that he had gone back to living in those walls, his memory had been coming back in bits and pieces, little snippets of his life before Cazador turned him. Sometimes it was a relief, when a nostalgic little smile would cross his face and he would recite whatever he’d remembered as if in a daze. Other times you found yourself cradling him as he mourned what had been stolen from him. Recently, the happier moments were becoming more frequent.

Astarion unlocked the door for you and shouted over your shoulder, “We’re home, Ma!”

You giggled as you and Selwynn made eye contact as she put down her knife. “She’s right here, Asty, no need to shout.”

Selwynn came over as you pulled your coat off and hung it up. She kissed Astarion’s cheek, cupping his cheek to hold him closer, as if he might escape. However, since his return home, Astarion had never once tried to get out of her grasp quicker than she was ready for. More often than not, he lingered in the hope she’d keep holding her. “How were the spawn today, dear?”

“Oh, they’re doing fine,” Astarion promised. “The tavern’s helping them get a fresh start and they’ve got a nice little village set up in the Underdark. Some of them are even starting families. As it happens, spawn can get pregnant.”

Selwynn raised one elegant brow. “Well, then. I suppose your plans for the future from all those years ago aren’t completely off the table now, are they?”

Astarion laughed. “Slow down, Ma, let us get through the wedding first, alright?”

You smiled at them. “We’ll get there one day,” you promised. “I’m just happy to have him back for now.”

Astarion beamed at you, all fangs, and leaned down to capture your lips in a sweet, searing kiss—the kind of kiss you never would have let his parents see two centuries ago, but no longer cared to hide.

When he broke the kiss, you were left dizzy and clinging to his arm or you were going to fall over, but Astarion asked easily, if it hadn’t happened, “Where’s Dad?”

“He went to bed early,” Selwynn explained. “Headache. He’s been getting them more often now that he’s stopped trancing regularly.”

You frowned. “If keeping our odd hours doesn’t work, he doesn’t have to. Neither of you have to become nocturnal until we find the Sunwalker rings.”

She gave you a sympathetic smile. “We know we don’t have to, dear, but we want to. We have your wedding to plan, you know. Oh, that reminds me! I made some adjustments to your veil. It’s finished now, if you want to take a look at it.”

“After we eat, absolutely,” you said. “What do we have today?”

“Boar’s blood,” Selwynn said. “I think it should work with my recipe. And I’ve got a few jars left if it doesn’t.”

Selwynn was yet another way you, Astarion, and the other spawn were making normal lives for yourself. Over the past year, she’d been experimenting with cooking and magic to find ways for vampires to eat solid food. A few of her recipes had been successful.

“Looking forward to it, Mama,” Astarion said. He kissed her cheek. Something came over him, clouding his eyes. He shook it off subtly and smiled at his mother.

“What is it?” she asked. None of his moods escaped her.

“Nothing,” he promised. He kissed the top of her head. “Nothing. I just…I love you.”

Selwynn folded him into a hug he gladly fell into. “I love you, too, Star.”

~❊~

After dinner, the four of you retired to the sitting room. Your wedding dress waited for you on a mannequin, your veil draped over it, your shoes next to it. Astarion jokingly covered his eyes, claiming he didn’t want to see it until your wedding day, but put his hands down when you insisted on showing him the veil. As always, his eye caught on the two portraits of him on the mantle—one from all those years ago, his skin slightly pink and his eyes still honeyed, and another that his parents had commissioned when he returned with his features as they were now, with crimson eyes and features made sharper from blood loss. He was gorgeous in both and you never let on that you noticed him admiring himself; he deserved his likeness, after all this time.

Selwynn’s finished veil was the same one she had been working on two hundred years ago, carefully preserved for all that time. She had added some extra length to it since Astarion had returned with odes to your journey and your love.

You held it gently in your hands, reverently looking over the delicate lace. “Selwynn, this is…this is beautiful! Thank you so much, I don’t…I don’t know what else to say. Gods, this is absolutely perfect…”

Astarion hooked his chin over your shoulder to look at the veil, resting his hands on your hips. “Oh, Ma, this is perfect! Wait, is that— Are those fangs?” He narrowed his eyes and leaned closer, then gasped. “Is that me biting her?”

You giggled. “Oh, gods, it is!”

“You told my mom about me biting you because I was struggling to hunt?” Astarion whispered in your ear. “Darling…”

“I couldn’t resist,” you teased. “You were just so cute when you begged me to share my prey with you, only to find I’d eaten already so you had to feed from me.”

He rolled his eyes at you. “Sometimes I think you live to embarrass me.”

“It’s a very special moment,” Selwynn reminded her son, lightly pinching his cheek. He made a sound of complaint but the smile on his face suggested he was more than happy to have his mother picking on him again. “It helped you bond together again.”

Thesan smiled into his goblet of wine. “They would have bonded even without the blood drinking, dear. I’m quite certain they always would.”

You leaned into Astarion’s arms, turning to kiss his cheek. “I have to agree with you there, Thesan. Two centuries and I still fell in love with him the second time as easily as I did the first.”

Astarion turned to you with a happy smile, almost purring as he pulled you into a deep kiss. “I love you, too,” he whispered to you, pressing his forehead to yours.

Thesan glanced at his wife. “Is it just me, or are they more touchy than they were before?”

Selwynn’s smile was answer enough. She cleared her throat to get your attention. “Have you decided on the flowers you want yet?”

“White lilies,” you answered quickly. “There’ll be more, of course, but…the lilies are important.” You glanced at Astarion, remembering setting them on his grave, and he squeezed your hip.

She pulled out a massive book of flowers. “Well, here—take a seat and we can find some other flowers to match.”

~❊~

You and Astarion spent the last few minutes of night on the rooftop, his arm around your shoulders, your eyes trained on the stars. His thumb rubbed your skin gently, a soothing sensation that was easily lulling you to sleep. But as soon as the sky began to lighten, both of your heads turned toward the horizon. You could feel Astarion’s longing for the sun radiating off of him.

“Has Gale sent word yet?” Astarion asked. You could hear the barely restrained hope in his voice.

“Not yet,” you sighed. His answering huff made you reach up and squeeze his hand. “It’s alright, honey. It won’t be long now, I can feel it. We just have to be…patient.”

Astarion rubbed his temple. “I know, I know, we need to give him time to— Gods, darling, I hate taking the moral high ground, I’m getting tired of being patient, and I hate relying on—other people.”

You laid your head on his shoulder. “By ‘other people,’ do you mean specifically Gale?”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “Maybe.”

You bumped your knee against his. “Be nice,” you chided, through your own small giggle as you fondly thought of the boys’ little rivalry. “He’s trying to help us out of the goodness of his heart.”

Astarion sighed dramatically. “Alright, alright—I’ll be civil, even though he has a massive crush on you.”

“He does not! Well, he did, but I’m quite certain he’s moved on, considering we invited him to our wedding.” You kissed his cheek twice in quick succession. “You’re not jealous of his unrequited love for me, are you?”

“Me? Jealous?” he scoffed, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Of course not!”

“Mmhmm,” you teased, not quite believing him.

The two of you lapsed into comfortable silence, watching the sky become a pale lavender color. The coolness of the night began to warm by a few degrees at a time. Astarion stood and offered you his hand.

“Shall we turn in for the night, my darling?” he asked, though you could see the longing to be in the daylight on his face. You nodded and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

You stood and let him help you crawl back down the roof and wall. He dropped down onto the balcony and caught you in his arms. He held you close to his chest and kissed your forehead.

“I think I’m quite enjoying this new strength of mine,” he purred.

You grinned at him. “Me too, remind me to keep you happy and fed so you can pick me up like I’m a feather.”

Astarion giggled and swooped you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style. He brought you over to the bed and gently laid you down on it, kissing you softly as he did.

“Practicing for our wedding day?” you joked, wriggling under the bedsheets and getting comfortable.

He chuckled. “Can’t I just enjoy being your knight in shining armor?” He pulled his shirt off and joined you under the blankets.

“Of course you can,” you said, pressing yourself into his side the moment he opened his arms to you for a cuddle. He hummed softly and wrapped the two of you in the blankets. “Comfortable?”

Astarion smiled against you. “Very. I’d quite forgotten what it felt like to sleep on an actual bed.”

You giggled and kissed him softly. You reached up to cup his cheek, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone. You appreciated the beauty of his relaxed, happy face before you whispered, “I love you, Asty. I know I say it all the time, but…I’m glad to have you back.”

When he smiled, one of Astarion’s fangs peeked out over his lip. “I’m glad to be home in your arms.”

You hummed happily, leaning your head against his chest and let yourself relax against him, your hand sliding into his. Astarion kissed the top of your head and wrapped his arm around you, keeping you laying on top of him.

After what felt like a few minutes, though it could have been an hour with how little you were keeping track of the time, Astarion shifted against you. He brushed your hair behind your ear and hesitantly asked, “Darling… Are you…up for some fun, maybe?”

Drowsily, you shifted so you could look up at his face. “I could fool around for a little while. What are you thinking, Asty?”

“I…I think I want to go a little further tonight,” he said.

“How much further?”

“I want you to touch me again.”

You were waking up quickly now. “You feel ready for it?”

He nodded. “As long as we keep taking it slow, I’m ready for a little bit of touching,” he explained. “In…in baby steps.”

You smiled, kissing his jawline. “Of course, darling. What do you want to do?”

He bit his lip and met your eyes. “I think I want to…give you some attention, like we normally do—you can choose if you want to cum on my fingers or my face—and then…when I get aroused…instead of just letting it go down…” He looked away, looking a little like the embarrassed young man you’d first slept with. “We could take care of it instead?”

You grinned. “Oh, darling, of course! I’d love to take care of you, however you want.”

“Your hand,” Astarion said immediately. “I’d like to start simple.”

“And you can always stop me if you change your mind,” you reminded him, a statement that had been established between the two of you since the night Astarion asked to try being intimate with you again.

For the past few months, you and Astarion had been treading carefully. After making love at his grave, he’d decided to slow down again, and you had respected that decision. A majority of your intimacy had been non-sexual, except for the times he sat you in his lap and reached between your legs. He’d been enjoying pleasuring you but hadn’t wanted to be touched himself, happy to take pleasure from your pleasure—until tonight.

Astarion brushed his lips over your knuckles. “Thank you, darling.” He put his hand on your hip, warm from feeding recently but burning hot from the need now coursing through your veins, even though the thin layer of your silk slip. He toyed with the hem. “May I?”

You nodded and he slipped his hand between your legs. He cupped your cunt through your panties, letting his finger slide along your slit as he pulled his hand back. He rubbed back and forth for a few minutes, pressing soft kisses to your lips as your breathing got heavier.

Astarion hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and met your gaze. You nodded again and whispered, “Please…” He was quick to pull them down enough to get his hand against your pussy again. One finger slid between your folds, rubbing gently.

“Already a little wet for me,” he murmured, kissing the tip of your ear. You shuddered. “Oh, did you like that, my love?” He did it again, this time lightly scraping his teeth over the shell of your ear and you whimpered softly.

Astarion brought his hand up from your slit, getting wetter by the second, and used one finger to start rubbing circles on your clit. Automatically, you bucked into his hand. Even though he’d been touching you like this for months now, it still felt new every time and sent shocks of electricity through your body.

You let a small whine slip past your lips and Astarion beamed. “That’s it, sweet girl, let me hear you. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

You brought a hand up to his shoulder, gripping him tightly, glad you were laying down and pressed against him or the subtle pressure he was adding to your clit was going to make your knees collapse beneath you. “Astarion,” you whimpered, kissing him rapidly. “Astarion, oh gods…”

He chuckled and soothed you with his free hand rubbing your back. He kissed you deeply and you moaned into his mouth.

“Are you ready for more?” he murmured, sliding his fingers down from your clit to your entrance before you could answer. He coated his fingers in the wetness he found there. He met your eyes as he rubbed your pussy. “Do you want my fingers inside you, darling?”

“Yes, please,” you whimpered, bucking your hips into his hand. He smiled at you, his eyes fond, and teased you a few times by sliding the tip of his finger in and then pulling it out without going any further. You whined pitifully, nipping gently at his jaw.

“Alright, alright,” he relented, laughing a little. “One or two?”

You nuzzled into his neck. “Start with one.”

Astarion pushed one finger into you with ease. He began pumping it in and out, curling up to graze your spongy walls, careful to hit your favorite spot every time. He had you moaning his name into his neck in no time, your entire body shaking against his.

“You’re doing so good for me, love,” he murmured into your ear. “You’re so tight around my fingers… I love it when you moan like this, keep saying my name, darling. Can you take another finger, sweet girl?”

You nodded. “Yes, Asty! Please, oh gods…” You moaned deeply as he pulled his finger out, then pushed two back in. You clenched tightly around his fingers. “Gods, you feel so damn good!”

Astarion grinned. “Good girl, just feel good for me, alright? Tell me how it feels, tell me what you need.”

“A l-little faster,” you stammered out between your panting breaths.

He pumped his fingers faster, so much faster that you knew his wrist would start hurting soon. But it did the trick—you threw your head back with a loud moan, fresh slick coating his fingers. You could already feel yourself getting close, but your orgasm seemed just a little out of your reach…

“T-touch my clit? Please?” you begged. “I’m almost there…”

Astarion kept his fingers moving inside you as he brought his thumb to your clit. He pressed down lightly and began rubbing in circles. He switched the direction he moved his thumb in every so often to catch you off guard, making your legs shake every time.

“Can I suck on your tits?” he murmured, eyeing them where they were about to spill out of your slip anyway from the angle you lay in.

“Yes, please!” you gasped, your walls fluttering and clenching. It wouldn’t be long now.

Astarion whispered his thanks in Elvish and yanked your neckline down. He covered both of your breasts in kisses, nicking your skin with his fangs every so often and licking up the beads of blood after. He made eye contact with you as he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples and began to happily suck. His eyes fluttered shut and you put your hand in his hair, keeping his head at your breast, keeping the pressure light so he could pull away whenever he wished. He hummed happily and slowly his hips began grinding against your thigh.

His hardness filled you with unbelievable glee. You stuck your leg out further so he could get better friction. The movement opened you up more and Astarion’s fingers sank deeper into you. You wailed his name.

Astarion shut you up with a searing kiss, his lips swallowing your cries and grounding you to the reality of your bed. You moaned softly into the kiss.

“Not so loud,” he whispered when he pulled away. He looked at you with lidded eyes. “Keep up like that and you might just finish me without ever touching me.” You whined in protest and he giggled. “I thought you wouldn’t like that.”

“Can I touch you now?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Let me finish you first, darling. You’re so close, I know it. Cum for me and then you can touch me, okay?” You nodded. “Good girl. I’m gonna go a little faster to get you there, love, alright?”

You spread your legs further for him and he kissed your neck, sucking harshly. He curled his fingers deep inside you and rubbed your clit faster. Your legs began to shake, your upper body writhing. You whined until it became a sob. You felt the first waves begin to wash over you, your walls clenching rhythmically.

“Cum for me,” Astarion demanded in your ear, his voice nearly a growl, and your body obeyed him before the order even processed in your brain. You nearly clamped your legs shut over his hand as your orgasm swept through you, the feeling like glass shattering throughout your body. You bit down on his neck, your teeth sinking in. You tasted his blood, sweet as honey wine on your tongue.

“Astarion!” you whined as you came down from your high, cuddling into his side. He pumped his fingers a few more times, helping you ride it out. He pulled his fingers out of you at the perfect time and sucked them clean, moaning as he did. You whimpered.

Astarion wrapped his arms around you. “You’re alright,” he soothed, kissing your forehead. “You did good for me, darling. You did so well.”

You rested briefly against his chest, catching your breath. After a few moments, you wriggled against him. “Your turn?”

“Rest for a minute,” he murmured. He kissed the top of your head.

“Do you still want this?” you asked, scratching his scalp.

Astarion brought one of your hands down to his crotch and gently placed your hand over his length. He gasped, his brows pinching together. “Oh, gods, yes, I want this,” he breathed, hips bucking into your hand. “Darling, you— You feel…”

You smiled at him, kissing his neck softly. “Oh, honey, I’ve barely touched you!”

He blushed. “I know… I’m not gonna last long when you really start touching me.”

“Speaking of… What do you want me to do?” you asked. “What do you think you’re comfortable with?”

He bucked his hips experimentally again. “Start with rubbing me over my pants. You can try squeezing me a little. I…I want to try a regular handjob.”

You started moving your hand over his bulge, reveling in the way he reacted with a sharp intake of breath and his hips desperately following your hand. You watched his face for the key signs that he was disassociating. But his eyelashes were simply fluttering in pleasure.

“How’s that feel?” you asked, giving him a gentle squeeze. He moaned happily.

“Good,” he panted. “Really good, keep doing that.”

“Rubbing then squeezing?” you clarified. He nodded quickly. You continued the pace, rubbing his bulge until you felt him kick up beneath your hand, then squeezing his length as best as you could through his pants.

Astarion began wiggling underneath you, a flush spreading from his face down to his neck. You cooed at him.

“Do you want more, pretty boy? Does this feel good?”

The flush spread to his chest. “Take my pants off,” he pleaded. “I need to feel more of you.”

You raised an eyebrow, taking your hand off of him. You gently unlaced his pants and began sliding them down his legs. You took your panties completely off your legs at the same time, kicking them to the floor, for your own comfort. “Do you want your boxers on or off?”

Astarion panted, thinking about it. Then he nodded. “Off, I want them off. I want to feel your skin on mine.”

You nodded and kissed him softly. “Thank you for telling me. Keep telling me what you want, okay? If it’s too much, stop me.”

“I will,” he promised.

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers. He did the same, ready to help you. “Lift your hips,” you told him. When he did, the two of you pushed his boxers off his waist. You pulled them down his legs, trying not to stare at his erection, and crawled back up to lay down next to him. You tucked yourself into his side again and looked up at his face.

“I’m okay,” he assured you, answering your question before you could even get it out. “Please touch me.”

You reached down, coated your hand in your own juices, and laid your hand over his hard cock. He took a steadying breath and nodded for you to continue. You wrapped your hand around him and slowly began stroking him.

Astarion let out a loud moan, his hips stuttering into your hand.

“Look who’s being loud now,” you teased. The flush reaching his chest deepened.

Slowly, as he got used to your rhythm, Astarion began fucking into your hand, rolling his hips at a leisurely pace you were careful to match.

“Feel good?” you asked him, nuzzling against him. He nodded. “Words, please, honey.”

Astarion nodded again and rasped out, “Feels great, darling… Don’t stop, please, don’t stop what you’re doing.”

“Good boy,” you whispered and his cock twitched in your hand. You raised a brow but left that for a later discussion.

You watched Astarion carefully, appreciating the way he reacted to your touch. A thin sheen of sweat coated his skin, created both through his writhing and the attempt to hold back his orgasm. His hips pistoned into your fist, his face blissful and his lashes fluttering rapidly, his legs shaking, his hands unable to keep still.

You took his hand in your free one and squeezed gently. He brought your hand to his lips and kissed the back of your hand. You smiled warmly at him.

“Can—oh, gods, fuck!—can you go a little faster?” he asked, panting heavily.

“Of course, honey,” you promised. You leaned down to kiss his neck, soothing your love bite with your tongue, as you pumped him faster, letting him whine against your lips. You glanced down, watching the pre-cum start to leak from his cock. “Gods, you’re a pretty sight when you feel good…”

Astarion whimpered and nestled into your neck. He bucked a little more ferociously into your hand, smiling into your skin. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too, Astarion,” you murmured, kissing the top of his head. “Still feeling good?”

He nodded. “But…can you pay more attention to my head?”

You looked down at his pink, leaking tip. “Sure thing, honey.” You swiped your thumb over his tip, collecting his pre-cum and further slicking his cock with it. He whined, the muscles of his abdomen tightening. You brought your hand up to his head and focused on stimulating it. Astarion’s whines became incredibly high-pitched as he threw his head back.

“Darling, I’m— I’m close,” he gasped, hips losing their rhythm.

You met his gaze and looked at him lovingly, using your free hand to brush his hair from his forehead. You kissed his forehead and his lips latched onto your neck. You felt his teeth sink in, giving you a love bite to match the one you’d sucked onto his neck. “Cum for me,” you whispered to him, echoing his earlier statement to you.

Just as it had been for you, the command was magic. Astarion moaned wantonly and fucked your hand desperately until his entire body curled inward as he came. Thick ropes of cum fell onto your hand. His orgasm racked his whole body and lasted far longer than you had expected. You stroked him gently, pumping him through it until he let out a little whimper of overstimulation.

You let him go and licked your hand clean just as he had. He stared at you with a little smile on his face. With your hand clean, you laid back down next to him.

“Are you okay?” you asked, gently rubbing your hand over his chest and stomach.

Astarion grinned at you. “That was… Gods. That was wonderful. I feel great!” He let out a little giggle, slightly astonished. “I feel like I’m floating.” He rolled onto his side and pulled you into his arms. “Thank you for doing that.”

You kissed him gently, licking into his mouth and letting him deepen it. He dominated the kiss quickly and you let him take control. He made a small sound of surprise and you realized he could taste himself on your tongue.

A string of spit connected your lips when he pulled away. The two of you giggled, the sexual tension in the room thinning immediately. You pulled him back down to you and cuddled into his chest.

“Any time you want to be touched, I will do whatever you ask,” you promised. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Let me clean you up, Asty,” you said. You pulled a washcloth from the nightstand—which had been prepared for this like it always had been two centuries ago—and gently wiped him clean. He took it from you and did the same to you, then pulled the covers back over you.

“Can we sleep naked?” he asked. “I want your skin tonight.”

You nodded. “I want yours, too,” you agreed. You snuggled into his side, resting your head against his chest. “This was amazing, Astarion.”

He hummed his agreement, kissing your nose. “Absolutely fantastic.”

“But this isn’t all you are to me, Asty,” you reminded him. “I know I say it every time we do anything sexual, but you could tell me right now you wanted it all to stop and I wouldn’t protest. I’d stay by your side. You are enough for me.”

Astarion hugged you tight. “You don’t have to worry about that, darling. You’ll get all of me again one day, I promise. I… I trust you with my body, more than I’ve ever trusted anyone with anything before.” He kissed you gingerly.

You blinked back the joyful tears that had filled your eyes. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Astarion laced your fingers together. “I love you, too.” He met your gaze. “How did I get so lucky to find you again? To be marrying you again?”

“I think your dad’s right,” you said. “I think we’d find each other again in any universe.”

Astarion buried his face into your neck and mumbled something that sounded like, “Love you.”

You wrapped him up in your arms and whispered, “Love you, too.”

One after the other, you dropped into trance, your hands still laced together. The love bites you’d left each other slowly deepened in color throughout the night. Your memories were peaceful and mostly of Astarion. You had a long road ahead of you, but it was a road you’d walk together. With Astarion at your side, your worries faded away; things would turn out fine.

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel @cheeslyy @ofmyth-andmagicart @neetheslayer @whispering-depths @freesidexjunkie @lightsinmycity @the0ldmann @gobbodoggo @oooof-ifellforyou @beeblisss @fangboner @aquaarietes @fiercest-eigengrau-skies @niqhtfell @call-me-nyxx @lueji-m @ceres-xiv @tricksy-trinity @graynstairs @rosa-rubus @ynisthatyou @thegoodwitchs-blog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @kiyastrf94 @vincemachina @silverfangmarks @ravenswritingroom @hinata7346 @hellethil @makepastanotwar13 @caramel-hufflepuff @beemiilk @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @starwatch77 @julianmarie @sadexistentialism @supernaturallover15 @writinghound @frankie-mercury @kindadolly @infernalrusalka

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kazutora-kurokawa · 10 months ago

Note

Could you do a part 2 where the Tokyo boys are to late on saving reader please your hc are amazing

TokRev x Reader: Too Late pt.2

♡ SFW, fem reader, angst, reader gets jumped by a rival gang and ends up in the hospital, kidnapping, torture and murder (nothing too graphic tho) ♡

Characters: Draken, Izana, Kisaki

note: aww thank you 🩷 and thank you for requesting

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Draken

🐉 Was immediately panicking when he got a call from the hospital, almost crashed his bike on the way there because he was driving wreckless

🐉 Cried at your bedside about not being able to protect you the way he should have

🐉 Brought stuff from your house to your hospital room to make you feel more comfortable

🐉 Had all of Toman's captains drive down on the guys who hurt you and beat the shit out of them

Corrupt Toman!Izana

🎴 Felt sick when he saw how badly injured you were

🎴 He knows what it's like to lose the people he loves and he refuses to lose you, one of the only people he has left

🎴 Tracks down and kidnaps everyone who was involved and tortures them till they confess to hurting you

🎴 Comes back to the hospital and gives you a jewelry box with the gang leader's finger in it, adorned by a radiant and expensive ring

Corrupt Toman!Kisaki

🚛 Hanma went to check on you for Kisaki and found you unconscious outside of your apartment and drove you to the hospital

🚛 He dreaded calling Kisaki because he knew that bloodshed was imminent

🚛 Kisaki stayed by your side the whole time you were in the hospital and promised you he'd make the people who hurt you pay

🚛 He sent Hanma out to take care of each of the guys one by one except for the gang leader, he wanted to handle him personally

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkitkats @happy-trenchcoated-impala @rinsprttyg @drunkcheesecake @reiners-milkbiddies

#tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers angst #draken x reader #izana x reader #kisaki x reader #Izana is my man fr I got dibs on him #he's so hot and deadly

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celtigxr · 8 days ago

Text

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 29 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: There is no summary for this. Y'all are going in blind. Word Count: 7913 CHAPTER WARNINGS: Angst, Fluff, Self-Loathing, Depression Sluttiness. Oh, we're still talking about menstrual blood.

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: Yes, this chapter be a big girl. Also trying to pretend that ch. 28 not getting as much comments (given what happens in it) does not bother me. I'm totally okay. Really. (morgan freeman: Celt was in fact, totally not okay)

“Princess Helaena!” Ursula said in wonder when Ser Steffon introduced the princess’ arrival. “What a pleasant surprise! We were about to have supper, but you are welcome to join us?”

Helaena smiled politely, her arms woven behind her, “That is a kind offer, Lady Ursula, but I was wishing for Lady Valeana’s company tonight. May you spare her this eve?”

Valeana had been idly biting the nail of her thumb, an excuse to keep her fingers on her lips, trying to reenact what happened on the balcony a couple of hours ago. Aemond had left her shortly after their kiss when they heard her mother and Floris arguing when they stepped foot inside the apartment. He gave her one last searing kiss and told her that she would see him again that night, though did not specify how that would happen. Then he scaled down the side of the castle, to the gardens below, like some majestic silver-haired mountain goat.

Ursula turned to Bartimos who looked just as surprised. The Celtigars were nearly a full unit that evening, save for Clement who had chosen to remain in the pavilions. Floris, who sat as far away from Valeana as possible, had muttered under her breath about how Helaena would be doing them a favour, that there will be finally food for everyone. Comments like these weren’t uncommon, even back on the Isle, Floris would make passive aggressive remarks at how much food Valeana had on her plate during meals. However, Floris was no longer a simple annoyance Val had to endure, she was worse, and Valeana wasn’t just going to ignore her jabs any longer.

Valeana swept herself up from her chair and answered before her father could for her, “I would love to keep you company, my Princess. I was just starting to get a headache– there’s an awful perfumy smell around that reminds me of a desperate old maid.”

Arthor snorted into his drink, and Shyla sniffed the air naively, not aware that it was meant to be an insult. Floris shot her a dangerous look, but ultimately her lips buttoned and the jab went unnoticed by their parents.

Weaving her arm into Helaena’s, she turned to Bartimos, “Is that alright, father?”

Bartimos hesitated, but he knew he could never deny the princess’s request. “Of course, of course. Will you need Steffon to collect you later?”

Helaena answered this time, “That won’t be necessary, Lord Bartimos. I have made accommodations for my friend to spend the night in my bedchambers.”

Valeana raised an eyebrow at her, but didn’t argue. Her father seemed conflicted, but with one sharp look from Ursula, he relented. As a woman who loved networking amongst her sex, she was not going to let her husband hinder a friendship between their daughter and the only daughter of Queen Alicent.

With a nod, Bartimos conceded, “That is agreeable. Though, make sure to return her early on the morrow. I want her ready before Princess Rhaenyra arrives.”

Making that promise, the two girls bid their goodbyes and promptly left. Ser Arryk was waiting for them outside, and dutifully followed them when they left. Valeana sent him a tentative wave and a sheepish smile.

The knight smirked, “Haven’t stolen any more cooking ale recently, have you, Lady Valeana?”

“The night is still young. I may need your assistance again, Ser Arryk.”

He silently laughed, but made no more comments.

After a moment, Valeana leaned into Helaena’s shoulder, her voice a whisper, “...Are you bringing me to…?”

The princess’s smile was small, but knowing, “I am.”

Val ran a hand over her middle, suddenly feeling very nervous. The butterflies had not left her stomach; they flapped wildly at the memory of her first kiss. Her lips still tingled with the memory, desperate to feel the same euphoria again.

She had no intention of kissing Aemond so quickly, so soon. There was a weak moment the night of the Ball, when they were near the act. Had Daemon not interrupted, she wasn’t entirely sure where that night would have led to. However, when her mind was more sober, Valeana decided that she would take things slow with Aemond, since after all, her heart was still pained with his scorn; the monster that Aemond made himself out to be was firmly present in her mind. Even though her anger for him has become a softer presence, it was still there, stirring her paranoia over his true intentions.

But when she looked into his eye, when she saw his smile, when she felt the warmth of his touch, it was so easy to ignore her anxiety. What was left, however, was her guilt, which she did not entirely understand. Aemond was not her husband, they had only reconciled nearly two days ago, so why did she feel like she committed adultery? Mayhaps it was because she had always believed her first everything would be with him. Her first kiss, which she grew up believing was the ultimate act of intimacy, always had to be with Aemond. There was that moment when they picnicked underneath the mulberry tree when she thought he was going to kiss her, but it ultimately never happened. She blamed it on her frazzled and sweaty appearance that had scared him off.

The decision to kiss Aemond was incredibly impulsive. She was driven by the need to give him something that she had never given anyone else. Valeana’s first kiss will always belong to Aemond.

But her first sexual encounter was with Aegon, a fact that she somehow knew would break Aemond. Actually, thinking back on it, Valeana remembered the comments about Aegon he had spat in her direction. Comments that implied that Aemond already believed that something was going on between her and his elder brother.

“If you want pity, Celtigar, go run back into the arms and pillows of my brother. You shall not find it with me.” “Though mayhaps that is what you desire. To be felt up like a common tart.”

And yet he came to her on hands and knees. Did he still believe those assumptions? They were false then, but now, they were not, even if it had only happened once, and it was more one sided, messy and foolishly impulsive. Maybe she should stop drinking, because so far the times she has drunk herself silly, a Targaryen Prince’s mouth ends up on her tit somehow.

… On second thought.

When they began walking up the stairs and entered the iron gates that separated the Royal Wing, Valeana craned her neck around in confusion. This is where the King and Queen resided, not where Helaena and her brothers’ apartments were.

“Where are we going?”

The princess gave her a secretive smile, “To where the sun and moon meet.”

Valeana peered at Helaena, expression full of confusion, “... Helaena, you are dear to me, but can you please speak plainly.”

Her grin widened, but she stopped walking when they got to a door, ornate with polished oak and shiny brass fixtures. Valeana had only been in this part of the castle possibly twice in her lifetime, and one of those times was the other day. When they stopped at this large arched doorway, there wasn’t a single thing about it that she recognized, but it still felt…familiar, somehow.

“We’re here,” Helaena announces with her hands clasped in front of her. She looked between the door and Valeana, and Valeana looked between her, the door, and Ser Arryk.

“Where is ‘here’?” Val raised her eyebrows.

“Queen Aemma’s private quarters,” the princess looked up at the door before running a hand over the brass bars, “It hasn’t been used since she died. Except by my father… and your mother, once upon a time.”

Valeana’s eyebrows dropped, “My…My mother spent time here?”

Helaena nodded, and then moved over to the kingsguard’s side, “It was her favourite place to be… You should head on in. He’s waiting for you.”

Ser Arryk did not meet Val’s eye when she looked at him, almost like he was trying to pretend that he hadn’t heard Helaena. Trying to conserve as much deniability as possible, should anyone come asking questions. What an honourable man, Ser Arryk was, always escorting her and dropping her off in Aemond’s arms.

Valeana bowed her head, “Thank you, Princess.”

With a kind smile and a tilt of her head, she wished her friend a good eve, and then left her alone at the door. Valeana casted an eye up to it, and then down to the handle, only giving a moment’s hesitation before she pulled and turned the loop to yank it open. She entered the vestibule, with tall arched vaulted ceilings and blue tapestries hanging on either side. It was dimly lit with only wall sconces lighting her way, but she could make out the white sheets that covered the furniture in the solar. Her feet softly padded along the carpeted floor, eyes roaming east where she saw a set of stairs leading up to another grand door, likely to Aemma’s bedchamber. Then she looked west, where a small antechamber led way to even larger arched oak doors. They were slightly ajar, with a warm light emitting from beyond.

“Aemond?” Valeana tilted her head as she followed the light. The butterflies were still actively fluttering about in her stomach, even more so now that she approached the threshold. Beyond the doors was a marvellous library, not near as big as the Royal Library, but its decorated and intimate splendor was unparalleled. Curved shelves reached the ceiling, domed with a fresco of a night blue sky and constellations. On the west end of the room was a large arched window, looking out towards the cliff sides of the Keep, where she could clearly see beaches free of commoners. A telescope sat before it, along with a writing desk hidden under a white sheet.

“Queen Aemma loved mapping out the stars,” the sudden appearance of Aemond’s voice startled her. Her body jolted, and when she spun to face him, he was trying to contain his mirth at her reaction. He was seated at a table full of food, a half eaten peach in his hand. “At least, that is what my father told me.”

“Just as much as you love to startle me?” Valeana’s hand was on her chest to control her startled heart, but that was a fruitless attempt. It was beating erratically regardless at the mere sight of him. The light of the hearth beside him lit up his every contour in an amber glow. His jerkin was discarded, as well as his belt and sword that sat next to the fireplace. The buttons of his black tunic undone down to the valley of his pectorals, the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his hair was loose and untethered, one side brushed over his ear where the strap of his eyepatch went over.

Val suddenly felt very wobbly on her knees. Her mouth watered, and it was not because she didn’t eat supper yet. Perhaps the butterflies in her stomach were actually moths, because they desperately fluttered around inside her, trying to reach Aemond’s flame.

Fucking hells, she thought, openly staring at the way his long legs stretched out before him, taking up as much space as possible. What a terrible week to be bleeding.

“Probably less,” he smirked, as if he knew exactly the effect he was having on her. “Are you hungry?”

She sucked in her bottom lip and nodded, “Ravish–I mean, famished.”

When she made no move to reach for a seat, he raised an eyebrow at her, then pulled out the chair next to him. Blushing heavily, Valeana scrambled to sit down, immediately facing the food. She hadn’t a single thought in that empty little head of hers. Not anything profound, really.

“Are you alright, Valeana?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, confirming her suspicion that he knew exactly what he was doing.

She slowly turned her head in his direction while he made her plate – soft shell crab, deviled eggs, peeled shrimp drenched in herbed butter. Oysters. There were figs, mulberries, peaches, and pomegranates on the table.

Somehow, by the power of sass, she found her voice, “Are you trying to seduce me, Prince Aemond?”

He chuckled lowly, moving onto his plate, “Woo you, more like. Is it working?”

Tentatively, she picked up her fork and stabbed into a shrimp, “You bring me into a secluded secret library of a late Queen, have almost all my favourite food accounted for, and you–” she briefly gave him a once over, “Shedded layers. It may be working, yes.”

The Prince’s smile widened, enough for her to see his teeth, and she noticed that he had that same lopsided smile she always loved so dearly. Then, Aemond reached for an oyster (already shucked) and tilted the shell back into his mouth, slurping up the contents. The shrimp she was chewing was slowly being forgotten until she was forced to swallow.

“No pearl?” She picked up her goblet to bring to her lips.

He hummed, looking at the empty shell, and then back at her. His eye traveled southward, “Not in this one.”

Swallowing her wine felt like she was swallowing gristle, “Seven, Aemond. When did you get so amorous?”

“I am a man, Valeana.”

She eyed him up and down, humming, “And here I thought you were a cat.”

He pursed his lips in amusement, dropping the shell onto his plate with a clank. Then suddenly, Valeana felt herself being jerked towards him. He had grabbed the chair legs and yanked her closer until her side was cradled between his knees. She stared at him wide eyed and smooth brained.

He took her left hand, the pads of his calloused fingers running along her knuckles, “Would you like to check for yourself?” Val’s mouth popped open at the question, but before she could vocalize a word – or produce a thought, really – he moved her hand into the opening of his tunic, splaying her fingers over the bare skin of his pec, right above his heart.

Smooth, firm, warm. Definitely not a cat.

“Hol–ee, hmmm…” She cleared her throat, eyes glued to the exposed pale skin of his chest. Even if he removed his hand from hers, Valeana was fairly certain at this point her palm was sweaty enough to create a suction. “Def-definitely a man.”

“Are you sure you’re not wholly convinced?” He leaned in until his nose nudged against her cheek. “There’s more to explore.”

Valeana’s eyes fluttered closed, fingers curling over the firm expanse of his chest. She could feel his heartbeat, just as frantic as her own. Suddenly she had no appetite, at least not for food. Her core ached, so much so she rubbed her thighs together, and clenched around the cotton plug. A painful reminder that she could not seek out her pleasure, not in the ways she wanted to. Though, perhaps that was for the best. When her mind found clarity, she would be reminded that Aemond was not entirely forgiven. Though, he was quickly climbing up to that finish line.

“You do not need to make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

No, he was making it so, so fucking easy, and it shouldn’t be. After all he’s done, after all he’s said. No, perhaps the Mother knew what she was doing when she chose this week for her bleed. Aemond needed more time.

“Aemond,” Valeana spoke with a stronger tone. When she tried to pull her hand away from his chest, she found she simply could not. Not because he had anchored her to him, but because the feel of his heart beneath her fingers was the only thing that reminded her that this was real. And it stuttered when she pulled her face away, “It’s… it’s not the right moment.”

She felt her heart shatter at the way he was looking at her. That one lilac eye struggled to keep composure, but she could see the letdown, the sadness, the defeat. He offered her a small understanding smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I understand. We can finish our meal, and I’ll have a kingsguard bring you back,” his words were monotonous, carefully controlled to conceal his crippling disappointment.

Valeana immediately shook her head, fingers grasping at his heart, “No, no, I don’t want that– I want to remain here with you, Aemond. I just–I’m not ready to go that far. It’s too early.”

Aemond’s face visibly softened, the smile appearing more genuine. His fingers curled around her hand at his chest before he moved his other to glide along the roundness of her cheek, “Hm, I see now. I will behave myself, I promise. Your virtue is in safe hands.”

She smiled back at him, leaning against his touch, “You may covet my lips, though.”

The ends of his coiled smile deepened. With a hum, he leaned in closer, this time his nose bumping against hers, “Good. They were all I hungered for these last few hours.”

Without another word, his mouth was upon hers. The taste of the sea upon his lips, the nectar of peach on his tongue. It was a bizarre combination, but Aemond’s lips were the gates of the heavens, and his tongue might as well have been the fruit of the gods. With grasping hands and greedy fingers, Aemond had maneuvered Valeana onto his knee without breaking their heated kiss.

Her hand was still atop his breast, addicted to the rhythm of his heart and the firmness of his muscle. Her other draped around his shoulder, fingers tangled in the perfect strands of his moonlight tresses. When Valeana felt his hands upon her waist, where his thumbs gently grazed the curve of her breasts, she let out a little whimper. A whimper that forced him to pull away from her, if only a fraction.

“If you make noises like that, I will not be able to keep my promise.”

She softly laughed through her nose, then finally released her hand from his chest, just to move it up the length of his neck and over his cheek. “Then mayhaps we should save the kisses for dessert.”

Aemond made a grunt of disapproval, but ultimately caved, “Hmmm, Fine.”

With a smile she lifted her chin so she could plant a kiss upon his brow, his eye closing for the moment in contentment. They resumed their dinner, though she remained where she was on his knee, and they picked at each other’s plate in idle conversation.

“You used to abhor seafood,” she remarked as he slurped down yet another oyster. “Now look at you. Eat any more oysters, and you really won’t be able to hold onto your promise.”

With a smirk, he tossed another shell onto the pile he had created. No pearls in this batch. Aemond turned to her, still perched on his leg, now licking her butter-coated fingers, the sight of which was absolute torture. His top teeth sunk into his bottom lip, eye glued onto her mouth.

“I never believed they were an aphrodisiac,” he turned away, trying to distract himself with a sip of wine. “At least not for me. Mayhaps I simply have a refiner pallet. Many things that fuel a man’s lust do not have the same effect on me.”

Valeana eyed him skeptically, as she had a sudden growing urge to prove him wrong. Aemond still felt he was better than any man, that his will was mightier in all ways. And yet the yellowed remnants of his love marks still lingered on her breasts, a visual proof that wasn’t the case.

“And what does fuel your lust, my darling friend?”

When Aemond turned to her, he leaned back against the chair to assess her carefully. His hand was on her waist still, securing her back as she stayed perched on him. Long fingers traced along the velvet fabric of her dress, reaching up to the laces on her back.

“You want the truth of it?”

Valeana nodded.

Aemond sucked on his bottom lip as if contemplating if he should give her the truth of it. After a beat of him battling his thoughts, he moved his second hand to her waist, weaving his fingers together so she was caged in his arms.

He dipped his head next to her ear and said softly, “The hardest I have ever been was when I heard you speak Valyrian. I sat there, next to you, a quiet fool, itching to stroke myself.”

A shudder ran down her spine, and she involuntarily clenched her thighs. Valeana raised her hooded gaze to meet his eye, and despite the overwhelming sense of shyness she felt over the confession, she felt bold enough to speak.

“Iksis bona sīr, ñuha raqiros?” (Is that so, my friend?)

Aemond’s eye closed as he grumbled low in his throat. His hands gripped at her dress as he pulled her closer, until her side was fully flushed against his chest, “Gaomagon ao jorarghugon naejot amīvindigon nyke, Valeana?” (Do you seek to torture me, Valeana?)

His voice was a low base in his chest, making the back of her neck tingle, and her face heat up. “You deserve nothing less.”

Aemond’s touch softened at that, but still kept her close. Instead his head dipped so he was in the cradle between her neck and shoulder, resting his forehead there while his fingers gently massaged the curve of her hip.

“You are right,” he sighs. “Mayhaps that is how we should spend the rest of the evening. Torture me with your silver tongue, and make me beg for a taste of it.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. Between the timber of his voice, the words he spoke with it, and the intimate way she was seated on him, Valeana was having a very hard time keeping her convictions. There was just something about him being so pathetic and needy that sent a whirlpool of arousal in her stomach. She could feel herself cave, with every caress of his hands, how they firmly yet softly roamed over the hills of her sides, her back, the tops of her thighs. Aemond’s fingers ghosted just under her breast, never quite touching, but never that far away from them either.

It was getting too much, too over stimulating, that she had to pull away. Valeana pulled herself from his lap with a flushed face, and actively avoided his penetrating stare, which was likely offended that she had removed herself from his orbit.

“It is getting late,” She announced, mind racing, heart pounding, trying to find a way to calm the evening before she did something stupid. She glided around his chair, and started to walk the length of the library, to the east side where she noticed a reading nook nestled amongst the bookshelves, an arched window tucked inside. It was more of a bed than a sofa, with a plush mattress, a collection of pillows and a wool blanket folded up in the corner.

Aemond stood up almost as soon as she did, moving around his chair to reach her. “Do you wish to leave?” There was a slight urgency in his tone, one which she quickly settled by turning around and smiling.

“No. I told you I don’t… But it is late, and the morrow brings us a long day,” she turned around, moving over to the reading nook. “Do you remember how we used to sneak into the library and you would read to me until we fell asleep?”

The sharp edges of his face softened, his eye watching her with such a deep fondness, that had she looked up at him she would have been rendered speechless at the sight. Instead she walked along the bookshelves that surrounded the plush nook, hands moving along the spines, noting how they were all Valyrian.

“Of course I do,” Aemond moved closer until he was at her back. His hands draped over her shoulders, then moved down until they were lacing her fingers and his chin was resting on her shoulder. He folded their arms across her chest, pulling her flushed against him. “How could I forget that snoring?”

Valeana huffed in annoyance, and when he chuckled lowly at the reaction, she spoke a smidge bitterly: “Well, in that case, I can go sleep in Helaena’s room–”

“No, no,” he nuzzled her neck, planting greedy little kisses along it, giving her a field of goosebumps. “You’re staying here, with me. But tonight… It’ll be you who reads.”

Valeana leaned her head back, which only encouraged him more to leave a trail of fire along the exposed flesh in the junction between her shoulder and neck. “You’re a masochist now, Aemond?”

“Mērī lēda ao, ñuha gevie.” (Only with you, my beautiful)

Reluctantly he pulled away from her, unraveling his hands before he could pull her rear against his pelvis to show her just how tortured he actually was. “Queen Aemma has quite the collection. You will have quite a selection to choose from.”

Valeana sighed, her shoulders caving in the absence of his body. She could feel the damp spots he left along the ridge of her neck and shoulder, burning and yearning for more. Wasn’t it she that was supposed to be torturing him?

She couldn’t concentrate as she perused the books, but she tried. Tilting her head, she forced herself to read the titles, quickly translating them in her mind. There were a lot of histories, a lot about astronomy, one book was even about the mating rituals of dragons. Val’s finger lingered on that one, simply because of the absurdity of it.

“Do you have a preference?” She decided to ask, moving closer to the nook, where the books got smaller, more frayed. More personal.

“I would have you read me every single book in this library, if we had the time,” He answered from the other side of the nook, where he also browsed the titles.

“I feel like that would kill you,” she joked, glancing over and taking in his regal profile and the outlines of his chest through the thin material of his tunic.

“What a lovely way to die,” he smiled, tilting his head back at her. “Mayhaps that is when I’ll finally be forgiven. It would be well worth it.”

Valeana’s features grew soft at that. She had no words for him, because she had no words for herself. It was like she was on a battlefield, and the soldiers were versions of her. Those who fought for peace, those that fought for vengeance, all in pursuit of claiming and protecting her heart. Whenever she felt she was close to giving in and forgiving Aemond, and succumbing to her weakness for him, intrusive reminders of what he had said to her would invade the plains of her consciousness.

“If you want pity, Celtigar, go run back into the arms and pillows of my brother. You shall not find it with me.” “I do not give a shit about her. I never have, and the Seven knows I never will.” “What makes you think I’d ever marry you?!” “Get away from me, you pig!”

“But I will spend the rest of my life in dedication to the pursuit of being worthy of your forgiveness. Worthy of your touch. Worthy of your lips. Worthy of the air you breathe. I need you to know that I am yours, should you still want me. If you ever did.”

Valeana blinked rapidly when she felt her eyes start to sting, then directed her attention back to the books. However, she couldn’t even focus on the titles, so instead she reached out and snatched the first one within her grasp. A small, frayed blue book, with an embossed rose on the leather cover, and two simple words gilded underneath, “Prūmia Udrir.” Heart Language.

“I found a book of poems,” she softly declared, gently opening up the cover and seeing the stained, dog-eared parchment. Val smiled fondly at it, “It looks well loved.”

Aemond returned to his side, bringing his scent and heat with him, instantly flooding her mind with longing. Her morose musings were completely forgotten, now that she was in his orbit. Leaning over her shoulder to read the title of the book, his breath tickled her cheeks as he hummed his approval, “Appropriate.”

“Time to get settled in, then,” clutching the book in her hand, Valeana walked over to the nook and sat on the edge to toe off her shoes. Glancing up,she saw that Aemond was doing the same, while also unbuttoning his tunic.

She immediately froze, “Wh-what are you doing?”

He smirked, “Getting comfortable. Generally I sleep in the nude, but… I am supposed to be behaving tonight.”

Valeana’s face turned into a tomato as his hands unfastened the last button of his tunic before he pulled the rest off his head, “R-right…” Words continue to fail her this evening.

Her mouth fell open at the sight of him: remarkably pale skin, chiseled out of marble, every curve and sharp edge of his body was utter perfection. There wasn’t a part on his torso she wasn’t drinking in; Valeana was desperate to memorize every centimeter of skin, right down to the V at his hips, which is where her eyes found rest.

“Hells…”

Aemond slowly padded towards the mattress where she sat, then hooked his finger under her chin to force her to look at him. “My face is up here, sweetheart.”

Valeana swallowed, “I thought I was the one doing the torturing tonight?”

He chuckled, then leaned in to capture her lips in a sweet kiss, “You are already doing a marvelous job without trying. Though, as much as I love to see that hunger-panged look you have, if my body makes you uncomfortable, I can redress–”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

He grinned broadly, “As my lady wishes.” Aemond then took a moment to assess her state, before tilting his head, “Don’t you wish to undress?”

Valeana flushed vividly, “What?”

“I only meant– wouldn’t you like to be more comfortable? Isn’t that dress incredibly tight?”

It was, like most of her gowns. Even if it was more modest and had less layers, it was still designed to conceal as much of her stomach as she possibly could. Sleeping in it would be uncomfortable. She did have a shift underneath though, and it was burgundy, like the dress, so it would not be sheer. Still, the thought of having such a thin piece of clothing separating her from Aemond was… nerve wracking.

And exciting.

Clearing her throat, Valeana shifted so her back was slightly turned, “Can you loosen these?”

Aemond sat down on the mattress behind her, then gently moved her braid over her shoulder. His fingers grazed along the expanse of her shoulder blades, causing a shiver to run down her spine. Reaching the laces, he untied the knot and began to pull the corset loose, all the while keeping his pointer finger under the hem so he could trail it along her spine. Valeana shut her eyes and sighed, at both being freed from the confines of her bodice, and from the intimate touch.

“Why do you wear so many layers?” His question came softly and curiously.

“To hide my body,” her answer came just as softly.

His movements paused, “Why would you do that?”

Valeana turned her head, her throat bobbing as she swallowed, “Aemond–”

“You have a gorgeous body,” he resumed, finishing off the laces before having his hands crawl around her middle and folding over her belly. Then he tugged her onto his lap, leant in and kissed the back of her neck and along the length of her right shoulder. “You always have.”

Valeana sighed, her head falling back against him. With his hands on her belly, she felt far more self conscious than she did the day his hands and mouth were on her breasts, all exposed and sweaty. But his touch sent tingles of desire and warmth in its wake, and as much as her nature wishes to recoil, she didn’t.

“Aemond–” She pleads his name a second time, whether it is for him to stop or continue, she isn’t entirely sure.

“If you don’t believe me, let me show you,” he reaches down and bunches up the burgundy skirt in his fist, pulling it over her thighs.

“Aemond,” She pleaded a third time, this time with a little more force. She was aroused beyond sense, but the reminder of her moon’s blood was enough to shake her back to reality. Valeana pulled herself off his lap, but didn’t step away from him, just stayed a few inches away as she stood up. “I told you it’s not the right moment.”

Aemond sighed through his nose, his frustration evident, but he swallowed it down. “Apologies,” He ran his hand through his hair. “I promised I would behave, and I am failing.”

“Trust me, Aemond, if it were any other week, I would not want you to,” if she were in any other state of mind, she would have more sense to say no without needing an excuse. But Valeana wanted him, convictions be damned.

He peered at her curiously, “What do you–”

“I’m bleeding,” she smiled awkwardly with a roll of her eye. “An incredible inconvenience, I assure you.”

Aemond blinked at her before his features softened to a slightly amused one, “Ah.” He looked down at the burgundy gown, and realized it all made sense now. With a soft chuckle, he moved his body further into the nook, and beckoned her, “Then we shall be inconvenienced together.”

Valeana rolled her eyes again, shaking her head with an embarrassed grin. “Seven help me… One moment.”

Aemond watched with complete enraptured silence as she pulled off the dress over her head, and then shimmied out of the petticoat underneath. All that was left was the shift she wore, too dark to see through the fabric, but thin enough that he could see the curve of her rear. Especially prominent when she sat down on the edge of the mattress.

Clearing her throat, she bunched up her chemise on her left side, “This will only take a minute.”

Aemond felt a wave of gooseflesh ripple throughout his body at the sight of her wooden prosthetic. It was almost too easy to forget its existence, with how she carries herself as if it were her actual flesh appendage. Though its appearance simply reminded him of his life’s mistakes, and that instantly humbled him. Suddenly he felt so incredibly foolish, trying to seduce her and being greedy for her body, when he already robbed a part of her.

With practiced ease, the type that comes from doing such an act multiple times a day, every day for a decade, Valeana unbuckled her prosthetic from her thigh and slowly slotted it off. She could feel his eye on her, which made her all the more self conscious about it, but sleeping with her wooden leg always made her thighs sore from chaffing, her knee stiff, and her stump itchy from sweat. With a contented sigh, she laid it against the bookcase that framed their alcove, and then slowly unbound the linens around her severed appendage.

Valeana could feel Aemond’s breath on her shoulder, and when she turned to look, he was hovering over her, looking at her leg with an almost unreadable expression. Perhaps it was sorrow and guilt, but there was an underlying anger as well, likely at himself.

Saving him from his self loathing, Valeana pushed the curtain of her shift back over her knee, “Are we settled?”

He shifted behind her, “Not quite.”

Twisting around, she watched as he hooked the strap of the leather patch with a finger and pulled it off his head. His hair fell like a curtain of moonlight around his slender face, shadowing the deep blue sapphire gem embedded in his scared eye. Valeana felt her nose tingle at the sight, as she felt remnants of mourning of the young boy he used to be, his face complete, unshattered, and untouched by violence. After he reached over to place the piece of leather on the bookshelf, Valeana captured the sides of his face with her hands and brought his lips onto hers. Aemond made no movement of protest or hesitation; he fell into the dance of lips, tongue, and teeth with equal longing and need.

Valeana let out a sigh as her back settled in the pillows, lips still locked with Aemond’s. He hovered over her, hands holding himself up on either side of her head. In the end, it was he who ended their kiss, as much as he loathed it. If they continued in this position, he would have his hips rutting in between hers, bleeding be damned.

Valeana gave a little sound of disappointment, which earned her a little smile from the man who hovered over her body. Her hands moved from his face, over his shoulders and clavicle, until they found a home along his chest and abs. That smile broadened.

“Still inspecting?”

“Not entirely convinced you’re not a cat,” she replied, lips pulled into a sheepish pout.

Biting his lip to contain his chuckle, Aemond quickly grabbed the book and placed it in her hand, “Now you’re the one who must behave.” He moved off of her, settling in the space between her and the window, arm reaching out to snag the wool blanket and pulled it over their bodies.

Meanwhile, Valeana moved back so she was in more of a sitting position, and as she was about to open the book, Aemond slotted to her side. His chin rested on her shoulder, and his arm draped over her middle to keep her close. She took a moment to breathe in the moment, allowing a familiar warmth and comfort to fill her bones and relax her shoulders. This felt right. This felt perfect. This felt like something she could do for the rest of her life.

She rested her cheek upon his head and opened the cover, then flipped a few pages before she found the words and began to read. Aemond sighed deeply under her, his eye falling shut at the sound of her timbre reverberating through him, releasing all the tension in his bones and muscles.

And so they remained like that, for a little while, as Valeana read every delicate page she could. Each line more beautiful than the next, made for a tongue such as hers. When she felt the full weight of Aemond’s head on her shoulder, and heard his heavy breathing, she slowly stopped reading. Gently placing the book to her side, she lifted her head and peered to check if he had actually fallen asleep. The loose grip he had on her waist and his closed eye confirmed it. Valeana couldn’t help but smile fondly down at him, looking so peaceful in the dim light. The hearth had dwindled down to red embers, the sconces had lost oil, and the candles were being darkened by their self-snuffers. It was time for her to call it a night as well.

Valeana ran her free hand over the crown of his head, threading her fingers through the silky strands, and ghosting her fingers over the shape of his jaw. He was so unbelievably handsome, it felt like a sin to look at him in this peaceful state. Even his sapphire eye, always open, glaring at her like the midnight sky. Sapphires had always been her favourite, and she wondered if he chose it specifically for that reason, subconsciously or with intention.

Careful not to disturb his slumber, she slid down to a lying position, softly moving his head from her shoulder and onto the pillows behind them. She then positioned her body so it was facing his, making sure to keep his arm draped around her middle, keeping him as close as possible. The book was wedged between them, so she plucked it by the back cover and went to move it to the floor, but the sight of a handwritten note on the back made her pause.

Squinting in the dark, Valeana tried to read the crude attempt at Valyrian script.

“Se vēzos naejot ñuha hūra Nyke jehikagon kesrio syt hen aōha ōños Dōrī isse mēre jēdar Kessa mirre sagon isse sȳndor Ēva īlon ékleipsis arlī”

“The sun to my moon

I shine because of your light

Never in one sky

Will ever be in shadow

Until we eclipse again. - L.”

“Engagement?! What makes you think I’d ever marry you?!”

“Aemond, I– my father—”

“Get away from me, you pig!”

With peridot eyes rolling into the back of her head, Valeana slipped into the void with a cry for help, a cry for him. Then a loud snap, like a clap of thunder overhead, followed by an ear-bleeding scream that would forever echo in Aemond’s skull.

He woke up with a violent jerk, muscles tense, chest heaving. He thought he saw blood on his hands, but he was just fisting the fabric of Valeana’s burgundy chemise. Valeana. She was here, she was with him. They were in Queen Aemma’s library still. She had her back turned to him and he was still holding onto her from behind, moulding his sharp corners with her soft round ones. Something had fallen, he had suspected, which forced him to wake up in a startle. Glancing at the window, he could see rain softly hitting the glass that served as a background for their little nook, but there was no thunder to be heard.

Blinking rapidly, Aemond tried to rid his eyes of sleep so he could peer into the darkness. Tentatively, he sat up on his elbow to cast a look around the library, but found no one. He waited, trying to listen for any sounds that may betray the presence of a hidden figure, but he heard nothing. He shifted further, peering over Valeana’s body so he could crane his neck to see their flanked sides, and that is when he spotted her prosthetic lying on the floor. That is what fell.

The sight of it was agony.

A sharp snap, and a scream. A bone peaking out through torn white flesh, blood on the floor, blood on his hands.

Aemond pulled his eye away from the offending piece of wood, then rested it on her form next to him: curled up on her side, hand tucked beneath the pillow, and softly snoring. Then he trailed his gaze down the length of her body, along the knolls of her curves, down the slope of her hip and thigh. Her legs disappeared underneath the woolen blanket, where he stared the longest.

Aemond was a masochist… But only for her.

He reached out and gently moved the blanket, and then slowly lifted her shift until he could see the rounded end of her calf. A few inches below the knee, soft muscle smoothed around what was left of her calf bone. To drive the knife in, her left leg tangled with her perfect right one. A single foot, a single calf.

Aemond’s fingers trembled when he reached out to touch her knee. He caressed it, as if it were a newborn’s head, fearful that he might damage it further. The tips of his fingers moved lower, trembling more now that he reached the end point of her leg. It was calloused at the stump, likely due to the prosthetic, likely due to years of having to relearn how to walk in ways very few humans would understand.

Was it still painful? Could she feel sharp pain in her knee whenever she walked, but hid it behind a sarcastic smile? His empty eye used to get sharp pains every once in a while, as if a knife had pierced through it again, though that had subsided with age, now it was only a dull sting. More often it was the headaches, like icepicks to his temples, mainly behind his right eye now that it had to compensate for the missing left.

Did she experience the same with her right leg?

“Save your breath, Valeana. You’re almost out of it.”

He made her run alongside his horse.

At the intruding reminder his chest constricted, and he squeezed his eye tightly shut, grimacing at the memory. The sting of his greatest regrets and sins burned behind his lid, tingled his nose, and shook his bones like an earthquake. Aemond grit his teeth so tightly, he could feel it at his temples throbbing as he tried to literally bite back his tears. He was holding his breath, a fact he hadn’t realized until his lungs couldn’t take it anymore, forcing him to inhale sharply and effectively breaking the dam. The trembling that started from his hands now reached every corner of his body, making him shake as if he was caught nude beyond the protection of the Wall.

Aemond gasped as his grief overtook his body. The tears clouded his only eye, spilling down the creases of his cheeks, and dripped down to the point of his chin. He then bowed his head onto her hip, shaking hands grabbing onto her sides to remind himself that she was here, and she was alive. Though perhaps he did not deserve what remained of her. Perhaps he should let her go, into the arms of Aegon, or Jacaerys, or whomever that would make her happy.

His body curled into her side, arms latching around her left leg as he violently sobbed into her hip. The words “I’m sorry” tumbled out of his quivering lips over and over again, a broken prayer, a shuddered plea.

“I’m so sorry, my friend. My beautiful Valeana… What have I done… What have I done…”

Aemond’s unworthy lips kissed her knee and what remained of her lower leg. His tears stained her chemise, head still bowed upon her, a sinner at the feet of the Maiden.

In the sanctuary of the darkness, Aemond freed the beast that he had been afraid of all these years. With green eyes and claws of vengeance, her name was grief, her name was guilt, her name was shame. He could do nothing but present his neck to her, offering up his life and hope it will be enough.

Valeana stirred in her sleep. Her legs moved as she gave a gentle stretch, along with a contented moan. Aemond was forced to pull away as she adjusted herself on the small bed, moving from her right side, onto her left, now facing him.

“Mm, Aemond,” his name tumbled from her pouty lips, while her hand blindly reached out for him.

Mutely, he moved back to her. Lifting her arm so it was draped over his waist, and then placed his own on hers. Aemond then wove his leg around hers, bringing her closer until she was tucked under her chin and secured to his chest.

“Ñuha vēzos,” he whispered into the crown of her head. “Iksan indignus hen aōha ōños.”

(My sun. I am unworthy of your light.)

CHAPTER THIRTY SNEAK PEAK

“Did we not already have this conversation?” He peered at her in confusion. “You told me to stop pursuing her, threatened to chain me to my rooms, and I completely ignored you?” “Aegon,” her tone was a force in its steadiness. Alicent strode over to him, and despite being shorter, it still felt like he was under her. Like he was still a child. “Tell me the truth, for once in your bloody life. What. Are. Your. Intentions?” Aegon’s mouth fell into a pout, his red rimmed eyes stared back at her like a reprimanded puppy. Alicent never swore, he would remember if she did. His mother had a knack of making polite words sound as lethal as a Valyrian steel blade. “To cour–” She did not allow him to finish. Alicent’s hand grabbed his face firmly under his jaw.

Notes: What a couple of sad, sad horny yougens. Anyway, I loved this chapter, and I hope you guys did too. It's a meaty one, with a lot of conflicting feelings, which I hope gives the vibe I wanted to, which is emotional confusion. Also, I just love when strong men get super pathetic. Oh, and one more thing: The Valyrian Moan found in the book is a haiku written by me. It's the only poem thingy that I did not have AI help me write. Haikus are the only thing I can do. It also 👀hints a little bit at the prequel mini series.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel, @t0biasparabatai

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

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changbinsboiledegg · 1 year ago

Note

can I request best friend! skz reactions to finding out the readers bf is cheating on her? c:

Hi hi thank you for being my first request! I changed the bf to gender neutral btw. :)

Warnings: Cheating mentions.

note: Just realized these progressively get longer as they go down. I promise I didn't intend that lmaoooooo

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Chan

He would tell you right away because 1) you don’t deserve to be cheated on. and 2) … why wouldn’t he tell you immediately?

“I need to talk to you.” Chan would say, knowing the information he knew would hurt you.

“What is it? I’m going on a date soon.”

Chan started to feel guilty, seeing how excited you were. But he knew you needed to know before you fell any more deeper for this person.

He’s your best friend, you bet he would be your rock throughout the breakup and the moving on process.

Lee Know

He never liked your S/O. Minho knew from the start they were trash.

Found out you were being cheated on the same time you did and wasn’t surprised, but still very pissed that this person hurt his best friend.

“I knew you were doing charity work with this person.”

“Minho, please.”

“You know I’m right.”

Nonetheless, he would cheer you up and find other means of distracting you from the hurt you felt.

Changbin

Changbin found out accidentally. He was on Instagram and accidentally clicked on a story post of one of the accounts your S/O followed.

At first, he was about to click out but noticed your S/O kissing someone else in the background.

After a few clicks and borderline stalking, Changbin found out the truth.

You were the ‘side piece.’

Changbin immediately sent you the evidence AND messaged the other person your S/O was seeing.

Let’s just say your ex now has a bad reputation now <3

Hyunjin

He was surprised when he found out because you were so happy and your S/O seemed to have treated you so well. At least in front of Hyunjin.

You were the one that came to him, sobbing your eyes out. Hyunjin offered kind words, advice, reassurance— Anything he could that would help you mend your broken heart.

“Let’s focus on yourself. Let’s not talk about relationships right now. Not until you are ready.”

Of course, fresh out of a breakup with trust issues, you have a hard time being positive. Hyunjin knows this.

He was very patient with you for as long as it took for you to feel okay again and even worked with you on how to trust again.

Han

Hands rated E for everyone, predebut Jisung was summoned the moment he saw your now ex with their arm around the waist of another person.

Maybe he didn’t actually fight them, but he sure as hell made sure they knew he saw them and that the other person knew they were in a relationship.

He felt satisfied knowing your ex was now alone as the other person immediately dropped them… Even more surprised to hear the loud smack your S/O received for cheating and being deceitful.

But there was still you, who didn’t know yet. Jisung dreaded having to tell you only because he knew you were in for pain.

Then again, he was pissed off and you’re his best friend so he went to tell you in a rant.

By the time he was done ranting about his best friend— you, dating trash and what they did to you, he immediately apologized and switched to comfort mode as soon as he saw your shocked, heartbroken expression.

Felix

He was disappointed when your ex drunkenly confessed to cheating on you on your birthday, of all days.

Felix remembered how hurt you were that day when your ex canceled plans on you but he didn’t know that was why.

He wasn’t sure why he was disappointed. It wasn’t his relationship nor was it someone he wanted you to be with. But the thought of you finding out that someone did this to you? Disappointed him. You deserved better.

“They are cheating on you.” He said abruptly into a conversation you were having the morning after their cheating confession.

“… What?”

“They told me last night they were seeing someone else and they—”

“Oh God…”

Felix was prepared with tissues and your favorite comfort foods, knowing you would need it.

Seungmin

He found out on Instagram, like Changbin, only it wasn’t accidental. Seungmin had a gut feeling of you S/O’s infidelity.

And boy, was he right.

Now, he didn’t tell you at first. Mainly because he was working behind the scenes to sabotage anything good going on in their life.

Seungmin managed to turn their friends against them, family members, and even got them kicked out of their scholarship program.

Seungmin found you trying to comfort you S/O, unaware of why these things were happening to them Seungmin held his tongue until you left them in the same room together.

“Maybe you shouldn’t cheat on my best friend next time.” He said, smugly.

Of course, he told you everything after you came back and stayed with you for as long as you needed after you broke up with them.

I.N

He found out when he found you crying your eyes out and deleting every picture you had of and with your ex.

Naturally, Jeongin was concerned and confused. But when you managed to tell him in a fit of rage towards your ex, Jeongin left.

…

Then came back with all of your favorites. Favorite snacks, drinks, ice cream, he even bought a few of your favorite movies and took care of the cost of food for the next week so that 1) you wouldn’t have to go out, heartbroken for the world to see. and 2) he wanted to make sure you ate.

“Thank you, Jeongin…”

“No problem. You would do the same.” … “Right?”

“No one’s going to cheat on you.”

“But what if?”

“Then yes. I would do the same. But no one will dare do this to you too.”

Jeongin grinned, thinking you were trying to make him laugh. And you smiled too, because who wouldn’t get a serotonin boost if Jeongin smiled at them?

You were dead serious about what you said, though.

#stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids #skz #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz reactions #skz scenarios

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ak-vintage · 2 months ago

Text

Quarry - Chapter 24

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set immediately following Chapter 13: The Jedi.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Reader is Mando's live-in starship engineer, dual POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, angst, bittersweet vibes, just a lot of love

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

Note: This is the last full chapter of this story. There will be an epilogue tying up any remaining strings (posted this month, promise), but for now, this is where we leave our engineer and our bounty hunter. Thank you for coming on this journey with me. It means more to me than I can say.

---

Never had you been more grateful for the competence and steadfastness of your friends than in the hours following Grogu’s departure. There were no maudlin displays of emotion, no awkward questions or condolences offered, and not a single comment about the absence of Din’s helmet. Instead, everyone simply got to work, and you were certain that it was only the hustle and bustle of activity around you that kept you and Din both from breaking down right where you stood.

As the first order of business, Cara Dune used her secure comm link access to hail the nearest New Republic outpost and request support for prisoner collection and transport. The officer on the other end of the connection was eager to agree as soon as he heard Moff Gideon’s name, and after some logistical back-and-forth, he was able to schedule an escort of two X-wings and a prisoner transport vessel for rendezvous in 12 standard hours.

This was, of course, too long to rely on the stunning effects of your blasters to keep the cruiser’s crew incapacitated, so the marshal then recruited Fennec to help her comb through the ship to check for Imperial survivors. Anyone found alive was quickly disarmed, bound, and gathered in one of the cargo bays for collection by the authorities.

The bodies of the dead, meanwhile, were flagged and identified using the crew manifest. Cara took it upon herself to personally verify and record the deaths of each one of them before hauling their corpses onto a repulsorlift sled and transporting them to the medical bay for disposal.

It was grim work, you thought, but the two of them did it without complaint; by the time they returned to the bridge, both a bit winded and glowing with sweat, the marshal was proud to report that an additional 25 Imperials would be added to the New Republic’s prison rosters.

Koska and Bo-Katan, on the other hand, remained on the bridge. As soon as the mysterious Jedi’s X-wing was out of sight of the front viewport, the former was at her injured lady’s side draping her arm around her shoulders, supporting her weight as she bore her into a chair. The redhead protested, insisting she was fine, but even from the other side of the bridge, you could hear the hiss of a smothered wince as Koska peeled back the fabric of her flight suit. Two angry blaster wounds oozed there, twin scores in the meat of Bo-Katan’s pale thigh, both of them bloody and deep. It was a wonder that she had ever managed to get to her feet again, let again alone stand with both pistols drawn, ready to take on a platoon of Dark Troopers.

It sounded like something Din would do, and your regard for the prickly princess grew as she eventually relented and allowed her vassal to treat her wounds.

You did your best to keep your attention otherwise occupied, to give the two Mandalorians their privacy as much as you could, but even so, Bo-Katan’s bitterness was a tangible thing, rolling off of her in waves and choking the bridge with tension. From the stiffness in his shoulders, from the way a muscle in his jaw clenched and feathered beneath his stubbly beard, you knew Din could feel it, too, and you rested a casual hand on his forearm in support. He hadn’t intended to usurp the Darksaber from his ally – no one could have witnessed the almost-desperate way he had attempted over and over to give it to her and questioned that. You resolved to ask him later, when you were alone, what he planned to do with the sword now that it was in his possession. For now, you hoped that he would not take her black mood too personally.

Once you were certain that all of the loose ends on the cruiser had been tied up, you volunteered to send a subspace transmission to Boba Fett on the Firespray. “Mission complete. No casualties. Wait another 14 standard hours for rendezvous to avoid New Republic prisoner transport.”

You admittedly didn’t know much about Boba’s past, but you had gathered enough to know that having him here at the same time as the New Republic authorities would be asking for trouble. The last thing you needed was for your friend (and your ride off this ship) to be detained for questioning.

As the hour grew later and your boarding party began to tire, you collectively agreed upon a guard schedule for the cargo bay before commandeering a block of now-abandoned crew quarters. Cara had slotted Din into the last shift before he could volunteer otherwise, giving him a hard look when he attempted to protest, and you were grateful to her for it. Without the anonymity of his helmet to hide behind, the heavy weight of exhaustion was clearly visible in his eyes. Dark, dull, and listless, present but only barely, with deep creases in the corners. The man needed rest, whether he was willing to admit it or not.

When he selected a room for himself, you did not question whether you should join him; you followed him in wordlessly. You needed to be close to him, and you refused to allow him to grieve alone again.

The room was small, spartan, and completely spotless, bearing little evidence of the Imperial officer who just this morning would have called this place home. A double bed with sleek gray sheets and a matching blanket took up most of the space, its surface flawlessly smooth, its corners neat and squared in a fashion that screamed military conditioning. A long, six-drawered, black dresser spanned the far wall, and on its surface, the only personal effects visible were a tidy stack of datapads, a small vanity mirror on a sleek, white mount, and a well-loved pack of sabacc cards. A lone chair sat in the corner, a pair of black leather boots tucked neatly under it, and another door along the starboard wall stood open to reveal a dark, unlit refresher.

“A double bed,” you remarked, a forced lightness coloring your tone as you offered Din a tight smile. “What are we going to do with all that space?”

You thought you might have seen a muscle twitch at the corner of his mouth at that, but it failed to stretch into a full grin. Instead, the silence returned, thick and oppressive. The weight of the day – the battle, the victory, the loss – pressed in closely all around you, leaving a bone-deep kind of weariness in its wake. You felt wrung out, raw and depleted in a way you had never experienced, and you knew that if you were feeling it this deeply, the man before you had to be nearly dead on his feet.

And yet his face – his excruciatingly handsome face, already so precious to you despite seeing it for the first time today – remained nearly impassive, as it had for the last several hours. If you had not had so many months of experience reading his body language, you might have thought him detached, indifferent, but you knew him better than that by now. The heaviness in his limbs, the tension in his shoulders, the struggle to look anywhere other than the deck in front of him, the way he could not seem to hold your gaze for more than a few seconds without wrenching himself away…

Din Djarin was exhausted, and he was very, very sad.

Slowly, cautiously, you closed the distance between you, brought both of your hands up to rest on the cool surface of his breastplate, and murmured, “It’s just you and me now.”

The bounty hunter sighed, the sound tremulous and deep, but still he did not look at you. His gaze instead remained on the floor between you, his heavy brow casting his dark eyes in shadow.

“What do you need, ner kar’ta?” you asked him. Your thumbs traced the folds of his cape, the high collar of his flight suit. “What can I do?”

He shook his head and brought one of his gloved hands to cover both of yours. “There is nothing to be done,” he rasped, voice hoarse and low from disuse. He had hardly spoken in hours, and you couldn’t help but feel that his words sounded a bit broken, a bit hollow inside. They made your heart clench in your chest. “Though… I would keep you close. If…that’s all right.”

The pressure around your heart increased, the pain of his words a physical thing, and you felt tears spring unbidden to the corners of your eyes. You had not thought you had any more to give, but apparently, you were wrong.

“Of course. I’m not going anywhere,” you replied wetly.

After what felt like several minutes of simply standing there, providing taciturn support through the touch of your hands, Din finally flicked his gaze up to meet yours. His eyes shone in the dim lighting, deep and nearly black with grief. “And what about you, cyare? What do you need?”

The faintest smile lifted the corner of your lips, knowing it wouldn’t reach your eyes. “A shower.”

That startled a breath of a laugh out him, and he shook his head at you with fondness. “I think we can make that happen. Anything else?”

Slipping your hands out from under his, you slid them up to his cheeks and cradled his face in your palms. “Just you, Din. I just need you.”

“You have me.” He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, and though the move was familiar, you would be lying if you said the absence of cold, uncompromising beskar against your skin wasn’t a little jarring. “Ratiin. Always.”

With a bit of convincing, you managed to coax Din into the attached refresher with you, the two of you crowding close under the vibrations of the sonic shower in a way that achingly reminded you of that night on the Razor Crest. It may only have been a handful of weeks ago, but it felt like a lifetime had passed since that moment. So much had happened in the intervening days, and although the memory of that night would glow warm and bright in your heart for the rest of your life, you couldn’t help but mourn that it had been tainted a bit, colored bittersweet with the knowledge that your life would never again look as it had that night.

Unlike then, however, as you ran your fingers over each other’s bodies or threaded them through each other’s hair, there was no heat to your touch. There was only care. And when you crawled into bed and tucked yourself against his side, the warmth of his bare skin against yours did not inflame but rather soothed. Almost instantly, your eyelids began to droop, the comfort of his closeness and the weight of the blankets tucked securely around you making your exhaustion impossible to ignore.

“Sleep now,” Din murmured into the top of your head. His breath was warm against your hairline, his nose buried your hair, and you smiled weakly at the feeling of his stubbly beard catching against the strands.

“Mm. Love you.”

The soft, warm pressure of a tender kiss against your forehead was the last thing you registered before drifting off, and the sleep that claimed you was deep and dreamless.

---

When you finally woke, you were alone in a rapidly cooling bed, the sheets beside you just barely clinging to the heat of your bounty hunter’s body. Half-conscious and bleary-eyed, you drew yourself up onto your elbows and blinked into the dimness.

“Din?” you called softly. Your voice scratched and grated against your own ears, your throat painfully dry from sleep.

The room beyond your bed remained mostly dark with only the faintest glow of cool white baseboard lighting outlining the edges of the cabin, but it was enough to see him there – sitting in that corner chair, fastening his boots. He was fully dressed again, the flawless beskar of his armor gleaming in the low light.

“‘S all right, cyar’ika,” he replied, keeping his voice low. “It’s my guard shift. Go back to sleep.”

Something about his voice sounded off – a mechanical quality to it that had you frowning at him as your sleep-fogged mind struggled to keep up.

Rubbing your eyes roughly with the heel of your hand, you asked, “You sleep at all?”

The broad outline of his pauldroned shoulders shrugged, the movement only barely visible in the dark. “A bit. More than I expected.”

“That’s good.” You melted back against the pillows then, drawing the blankets up to your chin. “Be safe, okay? Meet you on the bridge later?”

“Yes, I’ll be there.” Again, that odd, mechanical timbre colored his words, but sleep was tugging at the edges of your consciousness once again, the lure of the mattress and body-warm covers too powerful to fight against, and so you did not question it. Your eyes were closed again before the door into the corridor hissed open, before Din stepped through it and it shut behind him.

It wasn’t until you woke again some time later and recalled the brief conversation that you were able to put the pieces together. His voice, the strange, cool, staticky tone that had confused you in the darkness. It was his vocoder.

Din had put his helmet back on.

---

The promised escort arrived right on time around midmorning that day, the two X-wings landing in the launch bay while the prisoner transport docked against the cruiser’s airlock. As the only member of the party who was explicitly friendly with the New Republic, Marshal Dune took point in coordinating the transfer of the Imperials, all of whom had returned to consciousness overnight only to find themselves bound at the hands and feet. Once all of the formalities were taken care of, there was little for Din to do other than observe as the prisoners’ identities were logged one-by-one in the New Republic register, their injuries were catalogued, and they were escorted onto the transport vessel either by a guard or by a field medic.

He didn’t even really need to be there, he knew; Cara was more than capable of managing such a task on her own. He could have taken his leave after this guard shift ended, could have blown off some steam in the ship’s armory with a little target practice or sought out the mess hall to see what he could scavenge for your breakfast. However, he could not seem to shake the feeling that he needed to be present for this. Or, more accurately, for one prisoner transfer in particular.

Moff Gideon had been kept away from the rest of his crew overnight, Cara choosing to house him in isolation in the same brig where Din had found Grogu the day before. She had stayed awake all night guarding his door, unwilling to trust his keeping to anyone but herself, and although he could tell from the dark smudges under her eyes that the fatigue was starting to get to her, the Mandalorian was immensely grateful for her diligence. Had such a capture happened on another day, he would have insisted on watching over the moff himself.

As it was, he had been in no fit state to be trusted with such a responsibility. How could he? Grogu was gone once again, this time likely for good. And once again, Din had defied his Creed in the name of a boy who was not truly his ad, who now never would be.

The first time – during his infiltration of the Imperial base on Morak with Mayfeld – had been out of necessity. Or at least, it had been easy to tell himself that he didn’t have a choice; his options had been either to allow his face to be scanned by the terminal or to give up, to retreat back to Fett’s Firespray empty-handed with no other way of locating Gideon’s light cruiser. That had been an unacceptable alternative. If pressed, Din might even have made the argument that allowing Grogu to be taken into the hands of the Empire without exhausting every possible avenue of rescuing him would have been a more egregious violation of the Creed, as it would have involved the harm of a foundling child in his care.

To a Mandalorian, there was nothing more important than the well-being of a child. Not even a buy’ce.

But this time… This time, he had had a choice, and still he had chosen to remove his helmet. Try as he might, the bounty hunter could not refuse Grogu’s soft, vulnerable, earnest eyes as he had peered up into his visor. The plea in those eyes could not have been any more apparent had he spoken the words aloud in perfect Basic. And when he had reached out his tiny hand and patted Din’s beskar cheek…

Well.

The Mandalorian felt the backs of his eyes begin to sting at the memory, and he blinked rapidly to banish the swell of emotion. What was done was done. It would not serve him or the child to dwell on it any longer than he already had, and the number of tears he had already shed was more than enough. Any more, and he did not think he could bear the shame. What was most important was that he had completed the quest set upon him by the naur’alor – he had cared for Grogu like he was his own, and he had found a Jedi to train him. He had done the right thing.

And that, perhaps, was the root of it all. Even in his guilt and his shame, even in his grief and his longing, he could not help but feel – to the very core of his being – that he had done the right thing in agreeing to remove his helmet. The joy and the recognition on the boy’s face, the warmth of his little three-clawed hand on his skin, the opportunity to look the mysterious Jedi stranger in the eye with his own eyes before he had handed his son over to him. All of these things had been priceless experiences, things he couldn’t regret even if he knew he should.

And you! Your sweet face when you had seen him for the first time, the hungry, urgent way your gaze had traced over his features, cataloguing each and every detail even as you offered him back his helmet. It had been uncomfortable to be observed so closely, to be studied so intently, and yet nothing about it had felt wrong or immoral. On the contrary, he had wanted you to see him, to know him in that way. It had felt right.

How could it have been, though, if it was in direct contradiction to the Creed? The Creed was his life, his moral center, the principle around which he had structured his entire existence. Breaking it ought to have been painful, not…satisfying.

Before he could spend any more time contemplating it, however, two of the New Republic prison guards appeared at the end of the corridor, a bruised and limping Moff Gideon between them. Shoving the riot of thoughts and emotions to the back of his mind for the moment, Din drew himself up to his full height and dropped his hand to hover over the grip of his blaster.

The older man looked a bit worse for the wear after his night spent in the brig, his normally flawless uniform rumpled, his sleek hair disheveled. He had a great black bruise forming across his jaw from the butt of Marshal Dune’s blaster rifle, and dried blood clung to corners of his lips. However, in spite of his haggard appearance, there was no pain or weariness or look of defeat in his dark eyes. Rather, he seemed almost eerily calm, as though the night in solitary confinement had centered him. Had Din not been able to see the binder cuffs glowing around his wrists so clearly, he would have questioned whether the man understood that he was being taken into custody. He looked entirely too…unbothered for a man who was bound for a war tribunal that would almost assuredly find him guilty.

Not that it mattered, Din supposed. Still, something about his nonchalance rankled. The man would be lucky to ever see the light of day again; what right did he have to feel so…confident?

---

By the time you managed to drag yourself out of bed and make your way to the bridge, the prisoner transfer had concluded, and the New Republic forces had departed with the surviving Imperials in tow. You were surprised to find a bundle of credits in a sleek, black bag waiting for you there – more than you had ever seen in your life, to the point where you felt a bit faint at the idea of counting them all. Apparently, because you had been part of the crew responsible for the capture of Moff Gideon and his crew, you were due a cut of the reward money from the New Republic government. This was news to you, as you certainly hadn’t gone into this task with the expectation of any payment, but given that all of your meager possessions had been destroyed with the Razor Crest, you weren’t in any position to decline.

Tossing the bag playfully into the air, you quipped, “Does this make me a bounty hunter now?” You waggled your eyebrows at Din, who offered you a light, crackling scoff through his vocoder.

“Think you have to complete at least one more job before you could be called a professional, cyar’ika,” he replied easily. “Though Moff Gideon is quite the notch in your belt should you decide to take it on full time.”

Cara Dune, as it turned out, had received a field commendation from the prison transport vessel’s captain for the victory, which she took out of a pouch on her utility belt to show you at your request. A small, gold pin featuring the sigil of the New Republic gleamed back at you from her black leather palm.

“The captain said he’d be in touch again,” she admitted, her voice soft and thoughtful. “Said they could use more people like me on the front lines. Hunting down Imperial remnants. Rooting them out.”

You raised your eyebrows at that. “That sounds like a big deal. You had said you were starting to feel a little…well, bored on Nevarro. If they called you up, do you think you would go?”

“I don’t know.” She rolled the little pin around in her grasp as you watched, her dark brows cinched in thought. “Nevarro’s great. And Karga’s been good to me.”

“True, but you said it yourself. You’ve never been one to stay in one place for too long.”

Cara glanced up at you through thick lashes, cracking a wry smile. “You’re not wrong.”

The Firespray arrived precisely when you had instructed, the worn exterior of the vessel a sight for sore eyes after the events of the prior day. You told Boba Fett so when he hailed the cruiser, to which he chuckled gruffly and replied, “It’s good to hear everyone is still in one piece. I take it you have retrieved the child?”

You swallowed heavily and spared a glance toward Din, who met your gaze only briefly before looking out the viewport instead. “…we did,” you confessed after a beat of hesitation. “But he won’t be leaving with us. It’s a long story. We can catch you up once we’re back on board.”

For a moment, dull, hollow silence echoed across the connection – the sound of an open comm line with no voices to fill the space. Thankfully, however, it did not take long for Boba to recover from your revelation. “Understood. I’ll save my questions for the return journey to Nevarro then. If you all are ready to depart, I will prepare for docking.”

“Ready on our end,” you confirmed. “Feel free to proceed.”

As the distant thud of connecting airlocks rumbled through the deck plating, all but Bo-Katan and Koska prepared to disembark. Weapons were gathered, stolen foodstuffs from the mess hall were packed away in bags Fennec had liberated from the ship’s stores, and goodbyes were said. The two Mandalorian women would be keeping custody of the light cruiser, as had been your agreement, though as each of them offered you a cool, formal nod, you could not help but wonder how long the two of them would continue to travel together after this.

The dynamic between them had been openly strained since the moment the Jedi took his leave, taking their already stiff and stoic way of interacting and ratcheting it up to a degree that you could only call frigid. Bo-Katan had become almost unrecognizably surly and standoffish in the face of the loss of the Darksaber, while every offer of service and support from her vassal appeared reluctantly, resentfully given. It was difficult for you to discern which of them was the true source of the brittle tension – whether Bo-Katan was driving Koska away in her resentment of her circumstances, or if Koska was already beginning to detach herself from the princess now that it seemed certain that she would never be Mand’alor.

Either way, you supposed it was none of your business for now. Perhaps your paths would cross again one day, but until then, they had held up their end of the bargain, as had you and Din. Until he said otherwise, the complexities of Mandalorian politics were not your concern.

Your departure was quick after that, the four of you making your way onto the Firespray as efficiently as you could manage through the narrow airlock. The scent of the familiar ship filled your senses – durasteel, dust, and caf with an undertone of something distinctly masculine, and you could not help but sigh in relief as you felt the tense muscles in your shoulders loosen almost immediately. You weren’t certain at what point over the last few weeks Boba’s ship had begun to feel like a safe haven, but it had, and after spending the last standard rotation “behind enemy lines,” as it were, your relief at being back was palpable.

Of course, you hadn’t expected you would return without Grogu. His absence was like a physical thing, a hole in your heart and an emptiness in your arms that you knew would not fade for a long while.

“Feel free to settle in,” Fennec said. “I’ll be in the cockpit catching Boba up while we get into hyperspace. Should be a pretty short jump – no more than a day or two.”

You, Din, and Cara all nodded your acknowledgement before making your way over to the ship’s central ladder. You dropped off the bags of supplies you had taken from the light cruiser in the common area on your way down, and without needing to say anything, you and Din ducked into the bounty cell you had claimed as your own the last time you were on the Firespray, while Cara continued down the ladder to her own cell.

It was the first time you had been alone with the bounty hunter since the night before, you realized. Vague, sleep-clouded memories of his departure from your shared quarters this morning hung in the back of your mind, but the last time the two of you had truly spoken, you both had been raw and wrung out, and Din…

Well. Din had been helmetless.

You weren’t certain whether you had expected him to remain helmetless, but the fact that he had turned down your offer to put it back on right after Grogu left had made you wonder…

Choosing to take advantage of your momentary solitude, you closed the cell door behind you. If he was ever going to start giving you some insight into the innerworkings of his mind, you supposed now was as good a time as any.

---

Hours later found the Firespray deep in hyperspace and you wide awake in your bunk, rolled up onto your side with Din tucked in close behind you. A heavy arm draped around your waist kept your back pressed firmly against his chest, his grip preventing you from rolling off the edge of the narrow bed onto the unforgiving deck below you. You didn’t know how the two of you had spent so many nights sleeping like this on your journey to find Moff Gideon’s vessel; even after one night in a two-person bed, you felt as though you had been spoiled for space. Now, you felt more like a tightly-packed tin of rations; one wrong move, and you would burst from the edge of the mattress and never be able to pack yourself away again in the same way.

Your attempt at discussing the reappearance of his helmet had gone nowhere, the Mandalorian brushing off your inquiries with gentle but firm rebuttals. Removing his helmet had been in defiance of his Creed, he had insisted. Mandalorians kept their helmets on at all times in front of others. Yesterday had been an exception, an anomaly. That was all there was to it.

Never mind the points you brought up about Bo-Katan and Koska. Never mind your reminders of how every person aboard this ship had now seen his face other than Boba Fett, and not for a brief moment, but for hours and hours. Never mind your insistence that he had done nothing wrong, that he didn’t need to make up for allowing himself a few seconds of connection with the boy who had become like a son to him. All of it had fallen on deaf ears, and although he had been kind and patient with you throughout the discussion, his stubbornness hadn’t abated. He hadn’t budged an inch.

You weren’t sure how long this would be the case, but one thing was clear; the helmet was back, and the chances of you catching a glimpse of the bounty hunter’s handsome face again any time soon were slim.

Releasing a soft sigh, you twisted a bit in Din’s grip, looking back over your shoulder to trace the impassive beskar surface with your gaze. He was handsome even with the helmet, you knew; it was how you had fallen in love with him and how he would always appear in your mind when you closed your eyes and thought of him. Only days ago, you had expected to go the rest of your life having never seen his true face. You could go back to that, you thought. Or at least, you could try.

What you couldn’t do was sit idly by while Din compromised his needs and his desires for the sake of some ambiguous religious statute that you could tell he was already beginning to question. You had always respected his beliefs, but never at the expense of his own happiness.

Your mind abuzz with your thoughts, you felt – perhaps for the first time – restless in your Mandalorian’s arms. You wouldn’t be getting any sleep any time soon; that much was certain. Gently, with all the stealth you could muster in the darkness, you wrapped your fingers around Din’s wrist and lifted his arm from around your body. He stirred as you slipped out of bed, a heavy sigh rasping through his vocoder, but thankfully, he settled again quickly, and you were able to sneak out of the bounty cell without waking him.

You made your way up the ship’s central ladder as quietly as you could manage, your way lit only by dim runner lights that dotted the edge of the shaft. When you arrived in the common area, you almost didn’t notice the shadowed outline of Boba Fett’s broad form sitting at the little mess table.

“Ah, welcome,” he murmured gruffly, offering you a nod of acknowledgement. “Sleep eluding you, little one?”

He wore no armor, you realized as you approached, his black linen nightshirt and loose, billowy pants a sharp contrast to his usual sage green beskar. The light of a single lamp illuminated his scarred face, the golden sheen of it reflecting warmly off the smooth skin of his bald head, and he had a steaming durasteel mug cradled in both hands.

“You could say that, yeah,” you replied, the corner of your mouth tugging into a small smile. “You?”

He nodded. “Mm. You’re welcome to a cup of tea, if you would like.” Gesturing toward the kettle keeping warm on the cooktop burner behind him, he continued, “I find it helps settle the nerves.”

“Thank you.” With practiced familiarity, you retrieved yourself a mug that matched Boba’s and proceeded to pour yourself a measure of the fragrant, bitter liquid. “So what’s got you up this time of night?”

The older man shrugged a shoulder and took a sip of his drink. “Even a well-disciplined mind is vulnerable in sleep. Old memories one might prefer to leave in the past can make themselves…difficult to ignore.”

Your smile widened, the expression taking on a wry tinge as you slipped into the rusty, well-worn chair opposite him and settled your cup on the table before you. “I can relate to that,” you mused.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, each of you absorbed in your own thoughts. The tea he had brewed was a strong one, bracing and soothing in equal measure as you let it float over your tongue, and absently you wondered whether he might share with you its varietal and planet of origin before you reached Nevarro so you might seek some out for yourself. Primarily, however, you found yourself studying him in the low light. This was another Mandalorian who chose to remove his helmet, who chose to allow others to see his face. He seemed more comfortable with it on, perhaps, but he did not shy away from taking it off when it made sense to do so.

You could not help but wonder why that was, and the question was out of your mouth before you could think better of it. “Could I ask you a…personal question?”

Boba arched his eyebrow at you curiously. “You may try. Though I make no promises that I will answer.”

“Fair enough,” you agreed with a grin. “It’s just that… I was curious about your helmet.”

“What of my helmet?”

“You take it off. Regularly.”

He inclined his head at you in agreement. “I do, indeed. Speak plainly with me, little one. What is your question?”

Drawing your lower lip between your teeth, you voiced the thing you had been itching to ask him since the day you met, since the moment you saw him dressed in the weathered green armor that had once lived in armaments storage on the Razor Crest. “Do you consider yourself Mandalorian?”

Your words hung in the air for a beat, then another, and you swallowed nervously against the pressure of the growing silence between you.

“Ah,” he finally sighed, voice low and rasping. “That is a complicated question.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. You see, my father was Mandalorian – he, like your companion, was a foundling, taken in as a child and raised among them,” he explained thoughtfully.

You heard the words he did not say just as clearly as the words he did. “But not you?” you pressed.

Boba seemed to hesitate at that, shifting in his seat and weighing his words carefully. “The circumstances of my birth were…unique,” he eventually confessed. “I was raised by my father on a planet called Kamino. The teachings and values of the Mandalorian culture were certainly a part of my upbringing, but I was still a boy when my father’s life was cut short. I made my own way in the galaxy after that.”

You felt your eyebrows raise in sympathy at the revelation. “That sounds lonely.”

Cocking his head, the man across the table took a moment to study you, his flint-dark eyes narrowing ever-so slightly as though puzzled by your response. “It’s no easy thing, to forge a path for yourself without a tribe.”

You nodded. Again, his sentiments felt familiar to you. As a child, you had had a tribe of sorts. Your father, your mother, the other children in your little community on Chardaan.

Before the shipyards. Before Orron Halcard.

“What is it that troubles you?”

You glanced up at Boba, your fingers twisting anxiously around your mug as you took another thoughtful sip of tea. “I’m worried about my…companion,” you admitted after a heavy swallow. “He’s struggling. With being Mandalorian, with what that means. I hoped maybe understanding you a bit better might…help me help him.”

Dark eyes softening at that, you watched as a rare smile quirked the corners of his lips. “You have a kind heart, little one, but I fear my story may create more questions than answers.”

You nodded, returning your gaze to the dark liquid in your cup, watching the whisps of steam twist and rise into the air. You had feared as much.

“What I can tell you,” he continued abruptly, pulling you back out of your thoughts, “is that from the day I drew my first breath, there were people who believed they had a right to tell me who I was. The genetic engineers on Kamino told me that I was a product – payment in exchange for the services of my father. The other children who shared my face told me I was an aberration, an abomination with a faulty genetic code and no true purpose in the universe. The bounty hunters who took me in after the death of my father could not seem to make up their minds about me – to some, I was a prodigy, to others a burden.”

You listened with rapt attention, watching as Boba’s strong, wise face morphed into something fiery, something fierce.

“The Republic, the Separatists, even the Empire all believed that they had the measure of me. But no one has that right,” he hissed emphatically. “I had to decide for myself who I was. What do I believe? What do I value? What do I want? I must be the one to make those choices if I wish to control my own destiny. Perhaps the time has come for your companion to ask himself those questions, to choose for himself who he is and what that means to him.”

Slowly, softly, you smiled at the older man and nodded your agreement. “I want that for him. Very much.”

“Then you have already given him all the support he needs.”

With those words, so confidently and simply spoken, a wave of calm washed over you the likes of which you hadn’t felt since your last night on Nevarro – Din tucked in by your side, Grogu between you, the chattering of an old holovid serial rattling in the background as you dozed together. It was a confidence, a sense of rightness that you had thought had abandoned you the day you landed on Tython, and the relief you felt at its return was staggering.

Boba was right. All you had to do was be there for Din – allow him to ask the questions he needed to ask, encourage him to seek his own answers, and support him whatever his choice. Because as long as it was his choice, it would be the right one. You loved him enough to want that for him. You loved him enough to be his anchor while he worked it out on his own.

Swallowing the final dregs of tea from the bottom of your mug, you rose to your feet and – before you could question it – allowed one of your hands to rest on the older man’s shoulder, giving him an affectionate squeeze through his linen nightshirt. “Thank you for the tea,” you murmured quietly. “I hope you’re able to get some sleep.”

Through the dimness, he bowed his head to you, eyes flashing with something warm and almost fond. “The same to you, little one. I’ll see you in the morning.”

---

Your retreat back to your bunk was a quick one, your heart and mind feeling lighter than they had in weeks. The absence of Grogu still ached, but it felt somehow more manageable; not necessarily easier to bear in that moment, but there was the promise of a day when the loss of him would feel less sharp, when the good memories and the love of him would be greater than the pain of his departure. And as for Din, you were confident that he would find his way. He was the strongest person you knew, cunning and resilient and stubborn to a fault. If anyone could work his way through the mess that he had found himself in over the last several weeks, you knew it would be him. Like Boba had said, all you needed to do was be there for him while he did it. Everything else would fall into place as it was meant to.

You were silent and cautious as you slipped back into your bounty cell. The heavy durasteel door proved easier than you expected to close gently, and with a hand braced against the wall, you shuffled out of your boots and crossed the floor in stocking feet. Din’s beskar armor gleamed in the darkness, and you smiled to find him precisely where you had left him – back pressed against the bulkhead, arm outstretched as though to embrace you, helmet carving a deep indent in the single, thin pillow you shared between you.

Drawing your lower lip between your teeth, you eagerly slipped back under his arm, this time pressing chest-to-chest along the front of his body. His grip on you tightened reflexively, drawing you even closer as you tucked your head under his chin and buried your face in the folds of his cape. The chill of his breastplate nipped at your skin, but you paid it no heed. Instead, you simply dropped a tender kiss to the little geometric pattern right in the center and allowed your eyes to drift closed.

Your parents were gone. The Razor Crest was gone. Grogu was gone. But Din remained. And as long as you were together, you did not need to have all of the answers. It was enough to know that you had each other and that together, there was no obstacle you could not overcome. He was your home now, and you were his.

“Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum,” you whispered. Your breath fogged up the surface of his armor, that bit at the center shining with moisture. It felt significant somehow, as though you were speaking directly to his heart even as he slept. “I will know you forever, Din Djarin. I love you.”

---

Mando'a Translations:

ner kar'ta - my heart ratiin - always cyar'ika - sweetheart, darling buy'ce - helmet naur'alor - smith, craftsman, specifically a metalsmith that works with beskar. It's a title that's called out in the Kyr'tsad Mando'ad, a manifesto of the Death Watch and is later recognized in the book The Bounty Hunter's Code by Boba Fett. Given the Children of the Watch's connection to Death Watch, this felt like an appropriate formal title for the Armorer. ad - child, gender neutral Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum - I love you, literally "I will know you forever"

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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fr3sh-tragedies · 8 months ago

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Beautiful

[BATIM/BATDR] Alice Angel x Female Reader

Summary: Alice has a meltdown after catching a glimpse of her reflection, and you're there to comfort her.

Word Count: 2.09k Content Warnings: Mentions of insecurity Category: Slight Angst + Heavy Fluff || Oneshot

[A/N] #1: To make up for all the angst from last week, this one has heavy fluff instead. A very small amount of angst, but it's quickly resolved.

[A/N] #2: Thank you to everyone who sent in a request! I promise I'll try to get to them as soon as I can.

Enjoy!

Soft scribbling filled the silent space in the study, forming the words on Alice’s mind and printing them below the side of her palm against a thin sheet of paper. A small huff prompted by her exhaustion slipped past her tattered lips. As she finished writing out notes for her latest experiments, her free hand lifted far enough to rub at the one eye that still remained intact, which had fallen heavy with fatigue. Over the hours following the numerous tests she had carried out, Alice had shut herself in her study, curses spilling easily below her breath with each annotation of what had gone wrong.

It seemed as of lately that none of her experiments were going right. Even as she burdened herself with the task of figuring every detail out on her own, she still couldn’t understand what was causing the fault in her studies. Her mind had wandered here and there, the spark of want in her igniting the idea of asking you for help. Each time, however, she discarded the thought immediately. The stress was already taxing enough on her, and she didn’t want to share the weight of it all with the one person she cared about so deeply.

Because of her late nights in her study, Alice hardly ever had the time to be with you. The guilt ate away at her conscience constantly, but she knew that the moment she could understand the issues halting her progress, she’d be able to finally focus on you again. Even so, when she’d come to bed long after you had fallen asleep, she couldn’t prevent the pang of sorrow she felt, knowing you had likely stayed up late to wait for her.

Unfortunately, this only led to her spending more time away from you and trying to perfect her theories in her lab. In her mind, each Butcher Gang member that she had ripped apart and dissected was one step closer to being able to return her attention solely to you the way she craved. Every pulsating heart that writhed in her frigid hand was another markup in progress, and every piercing needle that let a concoction flow through the veins of one of the poor souls that had fallen prey to the Angel aided the approaching future of once again being by your side at every moment.

Another heavy sigh left her as she let her pencil fall back to the desk. Slowly, she leaned back into the chair to stretch with a yawn.

Surely a small break wouldn’t hurt. She knew you were in the kitchen preparing dinner, so it would do her good to at least wander out to give her mind a rest from the work piling up on her desk. You brought her peace, and at that moment, that was all she needed.

Granting herself another brief glance over her notes, she ultimately tucked them into a folder and slipped it into the lowest desk drawer, then finally rose to her feet. A small smile graced her lips as she made her way around the desk and toward the door. Her eye peered over at the rows of books lining her shelves, though her motions faltered and eventually stopped altogether when she caught a glimpse of herself in a small vanity mirror she had sworn she had covered.

Frozen in place, all she could do was stare through the reflection, grimacing at the ghastly sight of her torn mouth, gouged out eye, and the large mass erupting from the side of her skull. Instantly, tears welled up in her eye as wave after wave of insecurity crashed over her. Hours seemed to have passed, and she soon found herself curled up on the sofa with her knees tucked into her chest. She couldn’t recall moving there, though it wasn’t a pressing concern in her mind.

Trembling hands lifted from clutching at her shins to cradle her face as she unwillingly wept. Soon, her palms were coated with salty tears that began to trickle down her wrists and drip against her lap. Past the sound of her heart hammering against her ribs, she managed to make out the sound of footsteps nearing the door.

You strode toward Alice’s study, intending to let her know that dinner was almost ready and to make sure she was okay. As you grew closer, however, you could hear quiet sobs behind the door, instantly prompting your nerves to spike. You quickened your pace and gently knocked on the door to gain her attention. “Alice?” You uttered shakily. “Is everything alright? May I come in?” Before she had the chance to answer, you had already reached for the handle and twisted it, a soft push letting you enter and reveal the room. You paid no mind to the mountains of paperwork resting on her desk and instead turned your attention to the whimpering woman wavering on the sofa.

Within a moment, you had sat down next to her and pulled her against your side, instantly rubbing her shoulder in a soothing manner. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? What happened?” She sputtered out a few words, none of which were discernible. You shushed her and let the tips of your fingers stroke through her jet black locks, ignoring the ink that stained your hand. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. Just breathe for me, alright?”

There was no reply, but you watched and felt as she tried her best to suck in a deep breath, only to hiccup and cough instead. She attempted again, finally managing to breathe in all the way, albeit very shakily.

Softly, you gave her words of encouragement as she steadied her ragged breathing, which finally evened out after some time. She let out a sniffle and wiped at her nose and eye, her head turning away to avert her gaze from yours. Almost hurt by the action, you let the pads of your thumb and index finger gently take hold of her chin and turn her back to face you. “Hey,” you whispered, your hand then sliding up to carefully caress her face. With each featherlike stroke of your thumb against her cheek, her tensed form seemed to ease up more.

“Did something happen? Why were you crying, love?” Another grimace painted her lips as she glanced down with a worn out sigh. “Well, I…” She paused, seemingly unable to form the words. Your free hand softly clasped hers and gave a reassuring squeeze. The motion alone helped her visibly loosen up. “I was leaving the room to go see you and take a break, but I caught my–” She hiccuped as another round of tears began to form. “I caught my reflection,” she squeaked out as she shuffled back to hide her face once more.

Heart now aching, you frowned and peeked up at the shelf carrying the small mirror. She had been doing so well with her confidence. Her self-image seemed to be steady, and she had managed to check her complexion here and there without much issue. Seeing her in that moment, however, brought the entirety of the concern you had long forgotten rushing back.

“Alice, hun, you know you’re still beautiful.” She scoffed. “It’s easy to say that when you aren’t the one who has to live with half of her face torn apart,” she sneered loudly with a sense of venom beneath each syllable, finally able to bite back her hiccups and coughs. Even as she retorted with such fury, the regret instantly made itself known in her features. She shrunk further into herself.

This wasn’t what she had wanted. Not only had she been neglecting your wants and needs over the months, but she had also begun to start petty arguments that resulted in her losing her patience with you for things that weren’t your fault. She knew they weren’t your fault, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself in the heat of the moment. “I’m sorry.” She stared down into her lap and covered her face again. “I’m so sorry, darling, I promise I’m not meaning to be so blunt with you. Things have just been horrendous lately, and seeing my reflection like that? It just… “

Her trembling body stilled when your warm hand returned to her shoulder. “I know,” you whispered. “I’m not mad. I understand why you’ve been so stressed, and I know you’re going to lash out until that stress is gone.”

You scooted closer to her and placed a small peck to her cheekbone. “I love you, hun. You don’t need to apologize, okay?” She whimpered at your words and nodded, turning her body enough to let her head fall against your shoulder. “I love you, too.”

You smiled at her and tugged her closer, your arms wrapping around her torso to let you rub soothingly at her back. With each small sniffle that slipped from her, it almost felt as though she was repeatedly moving closer, and you wondered if she kept thinking she could get as close to you as physically possible somehow. “But can I tell you something?” You questioned at length.

All she could do in response was nod. “Well, it’s actually a few things, but it’s all part of a bigger picture.” At that, she leaned back enough to stare at you in pure confusion. “Bigger picture?” She echoed. You nodded.

“It’s kind of like a list on why I think you should love who you see in the mirror.” Her face flustered and she instantly returned her face to the crook of your neck to hide it. “Oh.”

“Hm, where to start? There’s so many things I love about you.

“Your cute little nose, your small beauty mark on your cheek, the beauty of your eye, especially when it lights up when you get excited over something.

“I love the softness of your lips when you kiss me or press a kiss to my head or cheek. I love your strong jawline I can easily bury my face into if I want to get your attention. I adore your horns and halo I can toy with when we’re cuddling in bed, and your hair I can brush out, even though it stains the brush with ink sometimes.”

She scoffed and playfully shoved your shoulder, earning a laugh from you before you continued.

“I love the way your eye softens when we’re staying up late at night together to talk about whatever comes to mind, and the way your lips curl into a smile when I talk about something I’m passionate about. I love how your nose scrunches up when you laugh or when you find something gross while we’re gathering supplies, and I absolutely love your voice. It’s so comforting to hear you talk, and I always immediately crash the moment you start singing to me at night. I love everything about you, Alice.”

A moment passed, and all you could hear was soft sniffling combined with the feeling of warm tears dripping against your shoulder. The tips of her fingers dug into your shirt as she trembled almost unnoticeably. Just as you parted your lips to speak, she leaned back and wiped at her eye.

“What about…” She motioned toward that tattered features on the left side of her face. “This?”

You grinned at her and cupped both sides of her face. With a small tug, you leaned her closer to yourself and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. When the two of you pulled away, you found her staring at you expectantly. “Honestly?” You started, earning a nod.

“I think it makes you look badass.”

She snorted in surprise and chuckled, teasingly pushing you back as she ran a hand down her face. “You are such a dork,” she finally mumbled between giggles. You grinned back at her again and leaned forward, wrapping your arms around her shoulders. “Yeah, but I’m your dork. And you know I’m right about you being badass, too.”

Even as she rolled her eyes, she couldn’t bite back the smirk that crossed her lips. Her hands slid up from their place against her lap and grasped lightly at your hips before reaching back further to partially wrap her arms around you. “Okay, okay, darling,” she whispered before pressing another gentle kiss to your lips. As your words set in, she could feel her confidence slowly rebuild itself. It would still be a while before she could look at herself again, but she knew you’d always be there for her regardless. “You’re right.”

#fluff #x reader #female reader #slight angst #heavy fluff #batim #batim x reader #batdr #batdr x reader #alice angel #alice angel x reader #alice angel x female reader #twisted alice angel x reader #twisted alice #twisted alice angel x female reader

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renaiswriting · 2 years ago

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Whispers of Strength

Pairing: Xu Minghao/Reader

Summary: The idea of having your best friend tell you, "I told you so," once again was infuriating, but you were sick and he was all you needed.

Warnings: slightly angst (but like- barely, you won't even realize it's there) with soft/happy ending (?) | FLUFF

Word count: 4.2k

Masterlist

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A sneeze was heard loudly echoing through the walls of the darkened room. It was around seven in the morning, and you were still in bed. Your alarm had stopped dreaming about ten minutes ago, but you couldn't find the willpower to get up and start getting ready for your classes.

The rest of the space shared with your roommate was awash in complete silence; there was no doubt that Minghao had left the bedroom a few minutes ago.

Unwilling to turn on the light on your bedside nightstand, you fumbled with the surface of your nightstand, finding a used handkerchief that you had left there in the early morning after struggling to sleep.

It seemed that no matter how much you blew your nose, one side of it was always completely unable to breathe.

Around four in the morning, you gave up, opting to breathe with your throat (something that was completely uncomfortable because you're not used to breathing that way).

After all, the cold air you had been exposed to the day before and the effort you had had to make to let oxygen into your body had ended up killing your throat, and now even breathing the smallest amount of air made you almost start crying.

A new sneeze came violently through your body, shaking you completely as it left your organism. At the burning sensation in your throat, you closed your eyes tightly, accepting the discomfort with resignation.

It was tiring; it felt as if thousands of knives were cutting the inside of your throat at the same time.

The screen of the phone that had been charging all night on your bedside table lit up, revealing that Minghao had sent you a message.

Minghao: You're on your way? I forgot my book for Economics III.

If the idea of skipping class had even appeared for a millisecond, it was completely gone.

I couldn't skip class now that Minghao had spoken to him.

Because skipping classes would mean having to tell Minghao that she was not going to attend, and it would involve having to admit that she had made a mistake.

Minghao had entered the same university as you in the same year. You had been studying the same major and attending the same classes from day one, but you hadn't seen or heard his name until you both found yourselves in the same dorm.

Minghao had requested a roommate change due to having constant problems with the one he had before, and you, being forced to get a new place to sleep that wasn't expensive, had no choice but to sign up for the college dorms.

Minghao had been the quietest person you had ever met, and that was a lot coming from you, who within three years had talked to, at most, about five people.

Was it any surprise that you had never seen him? Not really.

Making friends has been an extraordinarily difficult task for you ever since you were a little girl. For many years, you forced yourself to try to meet different people and keep in touch with them, but you soon discovered that if you didn't write to them, they never did.

And so you gradually began to drift further and further away from everyone, keeping only three friends who had shown that they cared about you as much as you cared about them.

So, at the beginning of your university career, you had promised yourself to focus more on your studies than on making friends, so you went to class, took notes, and when you finished, you hurried straight to the library to continue studying in complete silence for another three hours.

At first, living together was really awkward. Minghao didn't seem to know how to deal with you, and you didn't know how to deal with him.

And it was even more awkward when you passed each other in class because neither of you knew whether you should greet each other or just ignore each other.

Luckily, the relationship started to improve as soon as finals came around because both of you had a lot of studying to do and each of you had your own doubts.

They began to meet in the living room, sitting late at night reading and rereading the same books.

That's how they went from awkward roommates to roommates.

Your friendship began to forge when Minghao found you sitting in the bathroom with the door open and your phone in hand, crying uncontrollably.

That had been a bad week; not only were you extremely busy with all the group work and homework due in the various classes, but also the first exams had started, and you had failed one. So receiving a text message from your (at the time) boyfriend telling you that the relationship had come to an end was not in your plans, and as expected, the situation got the better of you.

Minghao stayed by your side all that night, making you tea and watching those movies you loved so much, and he didn't share your feelings towards them.

Becoming friends with Minghao meant that you had basically been adopted by the group of friends he had, and that meant that every two or three weeks they would get together somewhere to eat and take some of the stress out of college.

And it had been one of those get-togethers that had brought about the current state you were in at those moments. If there was one thing Minghao always took pride in, it was telling you how right he was with everything he advised you:

"Don't drink five cups of coffee before you go to take your exam because you're going to feel like going to the bathroom the whole time."

"Don't lend money to that person; you barely know them."

"Don't put so much spice in that food; it will hurt your stomach."

And in every one of them, he had been right.

So, when Minghao looked at the weather on his phone and noticed the low temperatures, I sighed deeply.

I had been thinking about wearing a certain outfit for almost a week, but it wasn't warm at all, and the solution of putting a jacket on top, which Minghao proposed, was not to my liking.

"The cold is psychological." You spoke to the reflection on the other side of the mirror. From there, her eyes connected for a few moments with Minghao's, sitting on your bed.

"And the fever you're going to get is also going to be psychological." Minghao responded by rolling his eyes. "Don't be stupid; you're going to get sick."

"But you all look ugly!" I cried in frustration, walking over to my various coats and studying them one by one.

"Wear one of mine," Minghao shrugged, too intent on what was happening on the phone in his hands, "it's not that much trouble."

The topic wasn't touched on again; Minghao seemed satisfied with the 'I'll think about it later' answer, and you just prayed that miraculously the sub-zero degrees would disappear.

"Which one are you going to want?" Minghao asked, entering your bedroom with a knock on the door. In her hands, she carried three different coats, all black.

"None," I replied, still finishing touching up my makeup, "thank you."

Minghao frowned, "But it's getting five degrees below zero." Minghao reminded you incredulously, "What are you going to wear?"

"I'm going to go like this; inside the restaurant, it's not going to be that cold."

"Yeah, but in the ten-minute walk to get to the restaurant, it's going to be cold."

"It's only ten minutes; how bad can it be?"

Minghao rolled his eyes, muttering "whatever'.

It was worse than just bad.

Even today, underneath the warmth wrapped around your body from the blankets, you could feel the cold you had experienced the day before.

You: Where is it?

You: "I'll be there in half an hour."

Once again, you blew your nose; it was already red and burning every time the handkerchief touched the irritated area.

You looked as horrible as you felt.

You were just praying that the makeup would cover up any traces of discomfort.

Minghao was sitting in his usual seat; his hand was extended in the air, catching your attention.

He had reserved the seat next to you so that the two of you could sit together.

Your head was throbbing and your body felt weak, but you were determined not to let Minghao notice your condition. So you walked quickly to the seat next to his, pretending that the ragged breathing and sloppy movements were only because you were still tired and not because of the discomfort you felt.Taking a step felt like walking on the sand at the beach, only this one weighed about seventy pounds and stuck to your feet.

"Did you bring it?" Minghao asked as soon as your body settled into the seat. You nodded in response, still not confident that your voice came out at all well. You had tried talking out loud in the bathroom before, and it seemed as if a demon was struggling to speak.

You pulled a large book out of your backpack, relieving the bag of the extra weight it didn't usually carry.

Minghao sighed in relief, stowing it in his own backpack.

While he was distracted, you pulled out a handkerchief from inside your backpack, quickly wiping your nose, and hiding it back in your jean pocket in time to talk to Minghao.

Luckily, Minghao filled much of the conversation, leaving you with the job of reacting or mumbling occasionally to his stories.

The economics III professor entered the classroom, and everyone automatically fell silent.

As the professor began to speak, you discreetly reached back into your bag and pulled out the pack of tissues you had hidden, realizing that the tissue you had grabbed earlier wasn't going to be enough for the rest of the class and that the professor had no intention of slowing down today's class just because you were feeling under the weather.

The professor asked a question that your brain didn't pick up on at all; you just weren't there.

Physically, you were there, but your brain didn't pick up on any of the difficult words your professor was saying.

Your notes reflected it; they were a mess.

You hadn't even managed to make a coherent sentence; most of them stopped mid-sentence because you couldn't keep up.

Minghao looked at your notes, trying to find some word he probably hadn't been able to understand, but he frowned as he looked at your notes.

This was unusual.

Usually you even wrote whenever the teacher took a break or took a breath, so why were you a mess today?

"I read this before," you excused yourself, "it's all in the book."

Which you weren't too sure would do any good since you hadn't even touched that book in the last week, but Minghao seemed to agree with that answer as he quickly rushed to write down what the professor was saying.

Suddenly he stopped speaking, his eyes traveling to the faces of the students in front of him.

You settled into your seat, sitting up straight and adjusting your posture.

You could make out a cough forming in the back of your throat, so you quickly cleared your throat softly, disguising the tickle that threatened to trigger a coughing fit at any moment.

Minghao looked at you with a worried expression. "Are you okay?" he asked.

You quickly smiled at him, shaking your head. "I'm perfectly fine," you reassured him, your voice sounding louder than it really felt. "I'm still very sleepy."

Minghao nodded, looking at your face for a couple of seconds before dropping the subject and turning his attention to the class.

You reached for your water bottle, hoping that the cold liquid would help quell the feeling that you were about to start coughing.

Taking a deep breath, you scolded yourself.

It was just a cold; for God's sake, it wasn't the end of the world, and it was stupid how much it was affecting you.

You stirred in the seat, trying to find a comfortable position to ease the persistent muscle pain.

As you attempted (and failed miserably) to keep your mind in the present, your brain was constantly repeating the same thing over and over again.

"He warned me about this; why was I so stupid? I should have listened."

"Next time, I'll not be this stubborn..."

"Just a little longer, I can make it through the day; just one more hour...

The painkillers you took on your way to your class were not helping at all; it felt as if you hadn't taken them at all. A sudden wave of dizziness washed over you; everything was moving. You stopped writing for a second, until it got better. Minghao turned to look at you, noticing you were not writing anything down. You send him a smile in return, forcing yourself to focus on the teacher's words and desperately trying to appear engaged.

The class finished with their teacher reminding them to read the next two chapters of their book for the next class.

"Shall we go home?" You asked, already rushing to the exit.

"Oh, Jeonghan asked to study together at the library this morning, and I told him we would be joining them, but if you don't want to-"

"Oh, no, yeah! Yeah! Let's go!" You forced a cheerful smile, hoping your eyes didn't give away how dead you were actually feeling.

"You sure? They will understand if you want to go home." Minghao asked you once again just to make sure. In response, you nodded, already heading to the library. "Wait!" Minghao rushed to grab your wrist and say, "We should eat something; I'm starving, aren't you?"

If anything, you were feeling like you were about to throw up because of how bad you were feeling. but you nodded nonetheless.

"You have barely touched your food." Minghao commented with a frown. Today was slightly better than the day before; the sun was kindly warming everybody under its rays. The group had agreed to move from the library to the concrete seats and tables outside so they could all have a small lunch and talk for a little bit before starting to study.

"I'm still kind of full from breakfast." You replied, your fork moving the noodles from side to side.

"Breakfast happened almost five hours ago; you can't possibly be full for that long." Minghao replied, at the same time that Jeonghan moved closer to you, his hand coming into contact with your forehead.

"You're hot."

"Thank you, I know." You replied, biting your lip seductively at him and pushing his hand away from your forehead with a smack.

Jeonghan's hand came back to your face, this time holding your chin and moving your face from left to right. "Your cheeks are red as well; I think you might have caught that virus that's going on around campus."

"What virus?" Mingyu asked. Your tallest friend was finishing his own lunch, liking his fingers, and eyeing the food you had in front of you.

"The one everybody is talking about, Seungcheol got it last week." Jeonghan replied. "He has been throwing up once every hour." Minghao frowned, checking your forehead himself.

"I'm fine, just not hungry." You replied, pushing your food in Mingyu's direction.

"Nah-ah," he shook his head, "if you're sick, I don't want to have it."

You tipped your tongue. "Such an ungrateful brat."

"I've got finals next week; I can't be throwing up!" He defended himself. "Trust me, if you weren't sick, I would eat it."

"You should probably go back home and sleep." Minghao suggested.

"I told you I'm fine!" You snapped, closing your eyes for a second to control your emotions. "I'm totally fine; I just want to study and get over it. Please"

Mingyu sighed, "Fine, but you're buying us coffee. If we're putting up with this attitude, this is the last thing you can do for us."

You bite your tongue, shutting down the need to tell Mingyu to go and fuck himself. "Fine."

"Race 'til the bus stop! Let's see who gets there first!" Mingyu shouted, taking advantage of his long legs.

It wasn't fair; in two strides, he had outpaced the others.

Jeonghan started running as fast as he could, as did Minghao.

You took a deep breath; your body was screaming for you not to.

It was already under too much stress from whatever it was battling at the time (a virus or a cold, or at worst, both) for you to demand that it use what little energy you had left in a race.

But you knew that if you didn't run, others would again insist that something wasn't right.

"I won!" Mingyu sang happily; he was the only one standing up; Jeonghan was laying down on the ground, trying to catch his breath; and Minghao was sitting with his legs wide open, both breathing quickly.

"No shit Sherlock." You commented sarcastically, sitting next to Jeonghan. "At least give us a chance."

"I would usually do it, but today you weren't even trying." Mingyu frowned. You rolled your eyes. Running has only made you breathe with your mouth, and the cold air that was entering your body only caused more harm.

"What do you mean?"

"You're sick." Minghao said calmly, "Just as I told you." He reminded you, looking straight into your eyes.

"I don't know what you're saying." You denied. Minghao shook his head. Taking his own scar from his neck and softly wrapping your own neck with its warmth.

"Stop it; you sweated it!" You faked disgust.

"Stop acting like a five-year-old." He said it coldly.

You froze in your spot, stopping to try to take the scarf off your neck.

You could feel Jeonghan and Mingyu's eyes on your discussion. You felt your cheeks and eyes turning from pink to red in embarrassment.

"I don't."

"Yeah, you do," Minghao replied calmly. "I told you to wear a jacket, and you didn't."

"Stop acting like my dad." You complained, standing up as the bus started coming near the bus stop.

You went first, trying to get as far away from Minghao as possible, hoping that both Jeonghan and Mingyu would understand it and save your ass from Minghao's nagging that was just waiting for you.

But of course, they were completely assholes and chose to sit together two rows behind both of you.

Minghao paid for his ticket, walking towards you.You avoided looking at him for the first five minutes, knowing he was looking at you—or the window, since both were in the same direction—in the reflection of the window.

"I'm sorry for reacting that way." Minghao whispered near your ear, not wanting the people next to them to listen to their conversation. "I didn't want to upset you."

You looked at his reflection for a couple of seconds before choosing the words you were going to use.

"I know," you started, turning to face him, "and I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier."

"If you were feeling that bad, you could just tell me; I would have given you my notes after class."

Minghao looked sad.

and seeing your friend sad made you feel sad.

"I'm sorry, it's just that the whole "I told you" thing is so annoying."

"But I did, in fact, tell you so."

"I know!" You exasperated. "I know you did! You always do, and it's insufferable. For me, it is. I feel like I can't make any mistakes because, at first sight of them, you're the first one to point them out." You left it all out.

"I don't." Minghao said, looking confused. "I didn't say that to make fun of your mistakes or anything like that. Never. I just want to point out that I did tell you because most of the time you just shut people down as soon as they say something you don't like, but sometimes you need to hear that."

"You're stubborn, extremely stubborn." He continued. "And that stubbornness will get you hurt or sick sometime." Just like right now."

Your emotions were all over the place, and now, at the slightly rice voice from Minghao, you were ready to boil your eyes out.

Minghao saw your watery eyes, stopped talking, and painted his face with worry.

"Don't cry, oh my god, I'm sorry, please don't cry."

Minghao wrapped his arm around your shoulders, awkwardly bringing you closer to his body, trying to comfort you by hugging you.

"I'm sorry. "I'm such a dick; you're already sick; please don't cry."

You wanted to tell him that it was okay, that you were in fact mostly crying because of how horrible you felt and how exhausted, both mentally and physically, you felt, but instead, you rested your head on his shoulder, letting the tears run freely on your face and wetting Minghao's hoodie.

The warmth that Minghao's body emitted was comforting; it was like having your own personal sun.

The sweet smell from his shampoo invaded your nose, making you feel safe in the familiarity of the smell.

It was nice to let all the tears out. It was like finally acknowledging how awful you had been feeling since you woke up.

It sucked.

Minghao brushed your hair, cleaning your cheeks from the old tears.

"We're almost home." He whispered, noticing that you were way calmer now that you had let everything out.

You nodded, closing your eyes and focusing on Minghao's delicate touch on your hair, trying to come back to reality.

The bus stopped, and you both went down, walking towards your shared dorm.

"I'll prepare you a bath." Minghao said, letting you take your time taking your shoes off.

"It's okay; you don't have to."

"I want to; it's my "I'm sorry for being a shitty friend" way to apologize."

"But you're not a bad friend." You corrected him.

Minghao smiled, disappearing into the bathroom.

You went to your bedroom, looking for your favorite pajamas. The only thing you wanted to do was take a bath and sleep for the rest of the day.

Minghao called you, letting you know everything was ready, leaving the bathroom all to yourself to enjoy the rose bomb bath he had.

The water was warm, and it smelled so good.

It felt so good in your sick body.

Your muscles are finally relaxing.

You stayed there until the water started to get cold, and as you started to get dressed, the smell of chicken soup hit you.

Minghao was waiting with the table seated.

"This is my mom's famous chicken soup," he told you, filling your glass with more water. "She always made me drink it whenever I was sick, so enjoy it; it's delicious."

"Wow, he's so humble; he compliments his own food." You joked but tried it anyway, your empty stomach welcoming the food with eagerness.

"So? How's it?" Minghao asked, looking attentive to your every move.

"Delicioso!" You answer in a terrible accent.

"Is that Spanish?" Minghao asked, confused.

"It's really, really good!" "It brings the Spanish out in me!"

Minghao laughed, saying, "There's more if you want; you should really eat well; you barely ate today."

You nodded.

He was right.

"Stay tomorrow; I'll take care of taking good notes so you can study later, okay?"

"But I'll feel better tomorrow."

Minghao rolled his eyes. "You'll go to class and spend two hours attempting to take notes while your mind is everywhere but the class; let your body and mind relax for tomorrow. It's just one day; it won't hurt."

You were about to start an argument, but you remembered the words Minghao told you earlier.

"Okay." You replied instead, "But make sure everything's in Korean, please, or at least let me know in advance if there's anything in Chinese. I can barely deal with a second language while sick; I don't think I'll be able to deal with one I don't speak at all."

"Sure thing, let's watch a movie." Minghao proposed, deciding that it would be best to watch it in your bedroom, just in case you fell asleep.

"What do you want to watch?" You asked him while getting comfortable under the blankets.

"Whatever you want." Minghao replied, logging into his Netflix account from his laptop. "I'm fine with whatever."

"Mean girls?" you asked.

Minghao nodded, watching the movie.

You knew Minghao wasn't a big fan of that movie, but you appreciated the fact that he was watching it with you.

"I want to cuddle," you confessed; this was something your mom always did when you were a kid, and we're feeling particularly sick.

Minghao didn't say anything; he moved behind you, doing as you asked.

"Thanks." You mumbled.

"Don't fall asleep; we haven't even gotten to the pink Wednesday part yet." Minghao joked.

"Tomorrow is Wednesday; we should also wear pink." You said your mind was half awake, half asleep.

"The only oink thing you're going to wear tomorrow is going to be your pajamas, but sure, let's do it." Minghao agreed.

You smiled.

Your eyes were burning from exhaustion.

And without thinking twice, you let your kind shut down, allowing your body the rest it wished for the whole day, feeling safe in Minghao's arms.

154 notes · View notes

mimiii-3 · 2 years ago

Note

Hello!

I'm the one that sent the 'my husband' request so thank you so much for writing it. I loved it so much. (^▽^)

Would it be alright if I request Riddle, Jamil and Vil getting jealous at seeing their crush, fem!reader, dancing with someone else at a school ball or dance thing?

- could I please be called 'Rose Anon'?

P.S - Best of luck on your exams. I'm sure that you'll pass with flying colours ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡

Hi Rose Anon! Thanks for the words of encouragement!

Twst boys react to reader dancing with another man

Note/warning: female reader, jealousy, perhaps a bit of yandere undertones, a lil angst + comfort, a hint of kalim x reader, fluff

. . .

Riddle

• he had left your side for just a second to go scold ace and deuce for causing a ruckus at the dance

• when he returned he found you being led out onto the dance floor by some random boy

• watching you sway with another nrc student made his blood boil

• he’s so jealous it’s making his ears burn

• accidentally crushes the glass in his hand, causing some shards to embed themselves into his skin

• the sight causes a handful of students to gasp in shock

• you look over to see your boyfriend pulling the glass shards out, ashamed that he let his anger get the best of him once again

• you rush over and grab his wrist, careful not to aggravate any of the cuts

• the way you tend to his hand with a napkin and fret over him starts to ease the possessiveness inside of him

• with the way you’re falling over yourself to take care of him, there’s no possible way you’d leave him for another man

• his shoulders begin to relax as he peeks over your shoulder to find the nrc student looking dejected

“My hand really hurts y’know…Why don’t we head back to Heartslaybul so you can finish patching me up. I might even break one of the rules so you can stay the night.”

Vil

• could this night get any worse?

• first, Epel got into a fight with grim and knocked over the punch table

• second, some of the punch splashed on Vil’s beautiful outfit

• third, it took him over half an hour to even remotely dull the stains

• and finally, worst of all, he returns to the party to find you dancing with another man

• initially, he wasn’t worried at all. It’s not like this random nrc student could dance as well as hi- oh damn

• this stupid, little student is pretty good

• ‘who is this mystery man and why is he trying to put the moves on MY girlfriend?’

• the threat of competition makes his blood pressure spike

• stomps his way onto the dance floor and aggressively taps on the mystery man’s shoulder

• Vil leaves the man with a snide comment before grabbing you by the hand and leading you to the center of the dance floor

• his left hand intertwines his fingers with yours and his right hand rests dangerously low on your back and pulls you close to him

• the two of you are chest-to-chest as he leans down to lower his face next to your ear

“Everyone seems to be watching us right now. Why don’t we give them a show?”

Jamil

• he’s been so busy running this nightmare of a banquet, he accidentally forgot to make good on his promise to dance with you

• you had been waiting patiently the whole night but you were beginning to grow frustrated

• all you wanted to do was dance with your boyfriend, just one dance would do

• Kalim noticed your mood and made his way over to you

• with his cheery disposition and great sibling energy, you couldn’t help but spill your heart out to him

• ‘well while you wait for Jamil, we can dance together in the meantime. I’d love to dance with you!’

• as Jamil makes his way past the dance floor, his heart drops

• he’s watching as the two of you smile at each other and happily swing to the music

• to think that the bane of his existence and his wonderful girlfriend are so happy in each other’s arms makes him sick

• you look over to see your boyfriend staring at you with most heartbroken look on his face

• you excuse yourself and run after his fleeting form

• once you catch up to him, you cup his face in your hands and place a reassuring kiss on his forehead

• he calms down and brings your hand up to his face

• first he nuzzles your hand with his cheek, then he kisses your palm

“I’m sorry, my love. For missing our dance and overreacting. Tell me how I can make it up to you.”

#twisted wonderland #headcanon #twst headcanons #fanfic #fanfiction #twst jamil #jamil viper #twst vil #vil schoenheit #twst riddle #riddle rosehearts

110 notes · View notes

seasidesandstarscapes · 5 months ago

Text

the chaos of it all

Summary: The five times Don and Bobby get interrupted and the one time they don't (almost)

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Modern AU, Established Relationship, Comedy of Errors, Trans Don, Fluff, Smut, Attempt At Humor

Words: 3576

A/N: @arokel I told u double whammy lol but also since it issss the last day of my Christmas in July, i thought i'd go out with a double decker. of course, this doesn't mean you can't request from here on out!!! I'm always down to clown so just hmu!!!

Thank you to everyone who sent in ideas, you all are the best!!!! <3333

(tagging @crushribbons & @sparrow-in-the-field)

AO3

The rays of the morning sun are not always the gentle wake-up call movies make it seem.

Don squeezes his closed eyes, trying to will away the light that seeps into his disturbed sleep. Instead, he’s forced to face the morning with a frown, and not the one that usually graces his face.

If it wasn’t for the comforting weight on top of him, Don would roll over or move to Bobby’s living room that sits in a state of darkness.

“Just a few more minutes,” Bobby mumbles, burying his face into Don’s chest.

With a kiss to Bobby’s head, Don traces his fingers along his shoulder and sinks into the mattress. Maybe if he just doesn’t think about it, he’ll fall back asleep.

Don drifts in and out of consciousness, to-do lists turning to nonsense, colliding into other plans for the day. He leaves his body, sleep edging in until Bobby moves. Eyes flying open, Don stills as Bobby kisses his shoulder, moves down his chest and towards his stomach.

“Time to get up?” Don stifles a yawn.

“You don’t have to,” Bobby grins, nipping at Don’s hip.

Don sighs, tipping his head back as Bobby teases lower and lower. Don sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and he tenses as Bobby licks at his clit. Bobby is slow, gentle, almost too much so, and Don finds impatience growing as Bobby traces a finger along his folds.

Just when Bobby slides a finger in, a knock on the bedroom door causes both of them to jump. With a swear, Bobby pulls away from Don and braces himself on his forearms.

“What?” He all but snarls at the door.

“We’re hungry,” comes Shorty’s muffled voice on the other side.

Don had forgotten about Shorty and Joe spending the night. A study session turned into game night and after a few shots, that was that.

“I promised I’d make them breakfast,” Bobby mutters, resting his forehead against Don’s thigh.

“We can just get breakfast somewhere,” Joe’s voice floats through and there is a scuffling as if Shorty intends to protest.

“No, no,” Bobby sighs, “I’ll be right out.”

He gives Don an apologetic smile and gets off the bed, throwing the covers back over Don. Biting back his whine of protest Don just watches as Bobby puts on sweats and one of Don’s shirts.

“You coming? I’m making pancakes,” Bobby says just before he opens the door.

Don nods, quirks a brow as Bobby tries to hide his flagging erection.

“I’ll put on an apron or something,” Bobby waves and slips out.

It’s tempting to finish himself off, but that doesn’t feel very fair to Bobby so Don crawls out of bed, throws on the nearest clothes he can find.

The pancakes are great, the company better, but Don doesn’t miss how Bobby squeezes his thigh under the table. They’ll need to pick up where they left off and soon if Don doesn’t want to explode.

However, by the time Joe and Shorty leave, it’s time to head to practice. Bobby’s heated kiss lingers on his lips and Don reluctantly follows him out the door.

II.

Practice goes well enough.

Ulbrickson wants them to bring their time down a little more, but all in all, he doesn’t yell at them and Don considers that a win.

Bobby’s coxing was on edge, but Don’s sure he’s the only one who could tell. Just the way he shouted certain calls, dragging out the vowels until he bit off the end. Bobby was horny and still is as he squeezes Don’s ass as he passes by him to get to the showers.

Glancing around, Don notes where his teammates are, who’s already gone, and counts to thirty before following Bobby into a private stall. It’s easy to find the right one. If there’s one area where Bobby is a creature of habit, it’s his choice of showers.

Don slips in, slides the lock into place and grabs Bobby from behind. With a pleased hum, Bobby reaches up, grips the back of Don’s neck with one hand while the other falls to the hand Don has on his hip. Don mouths at Bobby’s neck, pushes Bobby’s hip so his ass presses against Don. If only his strap-on was easier to sneak into the locker room.

Bobby turns around then, crashes their mouths together as his arms wrap around Don’s shoulders. Don crowds in Bobby’s space, hands braced on the wall on either side of Bobby’s head. Reaching down, Bobby caresses between Don’s legs, smiling into their kiss as Don shivers. Don takes hold of Bobby’s cock, gives it a few sharp tugs and it makes Bobby groan with relief.

God, Don needs Bobby in him now, but just as he starts to guide Bobby closer, the door rattles and there’s a large sigh.

“Guys,” it’s Jim and he sounds tired. “There’s no free showers. Can’t you do this at Bobby’s place?”

“You can wait,” Bobby retorts, his teeth grinding.

“No, I can’t. I’ve got a midterm to get to by 9 and it’s 8:30 right now,” Jim says matter-of-fact. “And you know that class is across campus. Hume, c’mon be a pal.”

Don doesn’t want to get dragged into the middle of this, but he gets it. He really should head off to his lecture too. He passes a silent message to Bobby which gets him a groan in return.

“Fucking fine,” Bobby turns off the shower with all his might. “Close your eyes, Stub, we’re coming out.”

“Thought you guys did that last year,” Chuck calls from across the locker room.

Don stops Bobby from charging at Chuck full on nude, dragging him to their lockers while trying to cover the two of them up with one small towel. Really, the whole team has seen each other naked, but Don doesn’t want to make it a habit.

“These half-boners are going to kill me,” Bobby mutters as he dresses aggressively.

“How about after class?” Don suggests as he dries his hair.

“Storage shed,” Bobby plans, just low enough for the two of them to hear.

Don can work with that. They leave the locker room, hand in hand and only drop their hold once their classes take them to opposite buildings.

“You better be ready for me,” Bobby whispers in Don’s ear.

Don swallows, the click loud in his ears. Oh, he’ll be more than ready.

III.

The storage shed is a little warm, just on the edge of stuffy, but Don patiently sits on a pile of life jackets as he waits for Bobby.

When the door opens, Don can only smile as Bobby throws his backpack to the side and dives into undoing the button on Don’s jeans.

“You were the only thing getting me through class,” Bobby breathes as he sinks to his knees.

He drags Don’s jeans and briefs down, leaning right in to lick and suck at Don. Don gasps, his hands flying to Bobby’s hair. He’s been just as horny as Bobby sure, but with Bobby tonguing him like it’s his life’s work, Don realizes just how pent up he’s been since the morning.

He could come soon, but he wants Bobby in him when he does and he taps Bobby’s shoulder, hoists him up by his sweater to taste himself on Bobby’s lips. Bobby is quick to get out his cock, teases at Don’s clit with the head when the shed door flies open.

“Oh, god!” Johnny stumbles back, hands over his face.

The door slams back shut and Don pulls up his jeans as Bobby tucks himself back into his own.

“What?” Gordy’s voice hits Don’s ears and he winces.

Gordy’s head pops in around the door, a frown already prepared for his friends.

“On the oars, guys?”

“They’re spares,” Bobby bites back. “And we’re on the lifejackets.”

His fists clench and Don takes one hand in his own to help calm Bobby down.

“Same difference. Now I’ll have to be reminded of this every time I have to grab something,” Gordy shakes his head and looks over his shoulder. “Johnny, they’re dressed now.”

Johnny peeks back in, breathes out in relief. “I don’t want to go in, Gordo.”

“Well, too bad. Ulbrickson asked and I’m not going to explain this to him,” Gordy grabs Don and Bobby by their collars and tosses them out of the shed.

Their backpacks follow a second after before Gordy shoves Johnny forward, the two arguing about god knows what.

Bobby lets out a pitiful whimper, throws his head back at the sky. Unsure of what to do with himself, Don shoves his hands into his pockets.

“What about your dorm room?” Bobby asks at last. “I’ve got another lecture at 2.”

It’s not enough time to drive to Bobby’s place so Don nods and leads the way. Finally, finally they’ll have some time alone.

IV.

They’re taking it slow in the quiet space of Don’s room. Chuck is out so Don and Bobby have taken off their clothes and they make out, tender and soft, Don draped over Bobby.

“Mm, what do you want to do first?” Bobby’s fingers dance along Don’s arms.

Don thinks it over and then shuffles down, kissing the tip of Bobby’s cock. Bobby lets out a contented sigh, runs his hands through Don’s hair as Don takes Bobby’s cock into his mouth, inch by agonizing inch.

“Fuck, so perfect,” Bobby breathes.

The muscles in Bobby’s legs flex and Don holds Bobby’s hips down. He wants to properly deepthroat Bobby. With a sharp inhale, Don takes Bobby all the way, his throat opening up as the head pushes in.

“Don,” Bobby whines, writhing underneath him.

In a way, Don’s surprised Bobby hasn’t already come and he pulls up catching his breath before taking Bobby’s cock again.

“Don, where’s your—?” Joyce bursts into Don’s room before letting out a single scream and yanking the door shut.

This time Don does choke on Bobby’s cock and he’s stuck hacking up his lungs as Bobby covers them up with their discarded sweaters.

“Joyce, what the hell?” Bobby yells amongst the cacophony.

“Why didn’t you lock the door?” Joyce shouts back as she comes back into the room, the doorknob caught in a white knuckle grip.

“Cause Chuck isn't supposed to be back for another hour?”

Don’s coughing is starting to calm and he hides his face in Bobby’s leg.

“Anyway,” Joyce shakes her head. “I need ibuprofen and I know Don keeps at least three bottles on him at all times.”

Don blindly points to his desk and Joyce rummages around until there’s the rattle of a bottle.

“Stupid time of the month,” Joyce mutters to herself as she struggles with the cap.

“You don’t get periods…,” Bobby frowns, his voice delicate and unsure.

“Well, yeah I don’t bleed, but I still get cramps,” Joyce sighs. “HRT is weird. Don’t worry about it.”

Don has finally lifted his head as Joyce downs a couple of pills with the water bottle Don was drinking from earlier.

“You coming out tonight?” Joyce asks just before she leaves.

“Yeah, I suppose,” Bobby sighs. “Right?”

Don grimaces. He forgot they had planned to go out for drinks, but with how the day’s been going, Don just wants to stay in with Bobby.

“You better,” Joyce points at Don. “Joe’s been complaining about not seeing his number eight lately.”

Don has been spending more time with Bobby but he didn’t think he had been that absent. Still, Joyce makes a point.

“Okay,” Don gives in.

“Good.” Joyce waves her goodbye and then, “Oh, hi, Chuck.”

Chuck is disgruntled in the hallway. “Can I take a nap or is that too much to ask?”

Even though the day is half over, for Don it’s felt like millennia. He feels Bobby’s frustration in his bones but they both dress when they have their privacy.

There better be plenty of drinks tonight

The bar is noisy and crowded, the alcohol barely taking effect.

Bobby has been dragged into conversation after conversation, leaving Don to nurse his drink. He was having a great time with Joe, but as the night has worn on, Don is stuck in the booth by himself. He watches Bobby gesticulate wildly at Shorty, going on about Syracuse and the upcoming regatta.

It’d be amusing if Don wasn’t so on edge. Just as his drink starts a buzz at the back of his mind, Don decides to fuck all. He slams his glass down, slides out of the booth and grabs Bobby by the wrist.

Without a word, he drags Bobby away and while Bobby protests at first, he is quick to fall silent. Don shoves them into the small one-person bathroom and he pushes Bobby up against the door.

“I swear to god, if you don’t get inside me right now—“

Bobby’s laugh echoes off the tiled walls and he works their jeans open, tugging them down to their knees. He slides his cock between Don’s legs, his fingers brushing along Don’s folds, a little tease to his clit. Don moans, kisses along Bobby’s jaw as Bobby fucks his thighs. He’s fumbling around for the condom in his wallet and pulls away from Don just enough to put it on. Don all but spears himself on Bobby’s cock, their height making this all a little too easy as Bobby holds Don by the hips.

Don stifles his whines but Bobby is loud as he slams into Don. God, he just needs to come. As Bobby speeds up, Don smashes their mouths tougher, ready for the impending orgasm.

The knocks on the door are almost easy to ignore as they keep going, but what they hear next makes them pause.

“If you two don’t let me take a piss right now, I’m off the team.”

“Shut up, Roger. We all know that’s a lie,” Bobby thunks his head against the door.

Roger makes a noise that’s all too serious and Don forgets about his sex drive. It seems Bobby does too as the two reluctantly part. Once they smooth themselves out Bobby opens the door and Don’s heart sinks. It looks like Roger’s been crying but before they can ask, he shoves past them. They’re pushed out and the door closes with a firm click.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Don asks as he and Bobby stare at the closed door.

Worry shines in Bobby’s eyes before he shakes his head. “We need him. Can’t go to Poughkeepsie unless he’s there.”

When they ask their friends, at least who remains, all Don and Bobby get are confused looks or shrugs.

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Joe reassures.

The others join in, easing Don’s worries. A bit of guilt has seeped in, that he almost cares more about fucking Bobby than whatever is going on with Roger.

It’s then Don notices Chuck is suspiciously absent but before he can say a thing, Bobby is leading him out of the bar.

“Let’s go home and finish what we started,” Bobby growls.

One night won’t hurt anyone, he supposes, and Don jumps into Bobby’s car, anxious and ready to just fucking come.

Bobby writhes on the bed, shuddered gasps and moans leaving him.

He arches off the bed, tugs at the restraints around his wrists. Don soothes him, running a hand along his side as he shoves the vibrator deeper into Bobby.

“Don,” Bobby shifts his hips, but it does little to alleviate his needs.

“Want it up another level?” Don asks.

“Fuck, there’s more?” Bobby groans. “Yeah. Please.”

Don clicks the controller and Bobby cries out, his hips leaving the bed. Bobby is gorgeous, hair matted against his forehead, skin gleaming with sweat. Somehow, Bobby has only come once, but the real fun is about to begin. Don starts to move up, ready to ride Bobby when the doorbell rings.

“What the fuck?” Bobby yells and Don’s reaction is to slap a hand over his mouth.

“Don, Donny, I need to talk to you.” Chuck is wailing on the other side, his knocks increasing.

Bobby licks at Don’s palm and he snaps his hand back with a glare.

“I can’t just leave him out there,” Don frowns as he reaches for the controller.

“Just leave it on and get him out of here,” Bobby grits out.

Don’s eyes widen and he just stares as Bobby closes his eyes. “You sure?”

“Mmhmm,” Bobby nods.

Taking a moment to collect himself, Don throws on some clothes and rushes to the front door just as Bobby’s neighbor across the hall comes out to complain.

“Sorry,” Don gives them a shrug as he pulls Chuck inside.

Don leads Chuck to the couch and sits him down before rushing into the kitchen. One glass of water later, Chuck has finally calmed down. Okay, just a minute has passed. As long as Don doesn’t pass five, Bobby will be fine, if a bit wrung out.

“What’s going on?” Don asks, a sympathetic hand on Chuck’s shoulder.

“Roger hates me.”

Don blinks. Is this why Roger was crying earlier?

“I fucked things up,” Chuck continues on. “He’s going to leave and I’ll never see him again.”

“Wait, you two were together?” Don thinks back to practice earlier, how Chuck and Roger seemed just fine.

“No,” Chuck sniffs. “But I want us to be. It’s too late now.”

Ten minutes pass as Chuck explains everything that led up to tonight. Don doesn’t know how he missed it. Yes, he’s neck deep in love with Bobby but he hasn’t forgotten about his team. He brought soup for Shorty when he was sick last week, Jim asked Don to come with him to physical therapy. So how he couldn’t see what was always there with Chuck and Roger is beyond him.

Don glances at his phone. Twenty minutes. And there’s a text from Roger. Don doesn’t mean to be rude as he reads the text, but then he stops Chuck mid-sentence.

“Roger’s looking for you.”

“What?” Chuck’s brows furrow.

Don shows him the text, the concern that lies behind Roger’s words. He knows his boys well enough to know what they mean behind a screen.

“Do I have a chance?” Chuck asks, still in disbelief.

“I think so.”

Chuck pulls Don into a hug and then races to the door. “I’ll never forget this, Don. Thanks!”

The silence is deafening and Don is in a bit of shock. He’ll have to get updates from Joe tomorrow, but right now there’s a more pressing matter at hand.

He runs to the bedroom, door flying open. The sight before him is even better than he expected.

Bobby is covered in his own cum, but his erection is still standing proud and red as ever. His eyes are screwed shut, mouth open and letting out a string of breathless moans.

“Bobby,” Don calls out as he undresses and when Bobby’s eyes open he’s utterly lost.

His eyes are watery, blissed-out as his focus fades in and out.

“Don,” Bobby manages. “Don, please.”

“I’ve got you,” Don climbs on top of Bobby.

It seems pointless to put a condom on Bobby now, but Don does anyway before he lowers himself down on Bobby’s cock.

He’s so full and Don is in heaven. He rolls his hips, drinks up the moan that leaves Bobby. Leaning down, Don licks at the cum on Bobby’s chest, his eyes never leaving Bobby’s face.

Tears spill down Bobby’s face and Don kisses Bobby’s cheeks as he rides him. Bobby’s cock hits him just right and he reaches between his legs to rub at his clit.

“Don, I’m close,” Bobby warns, eyes rolling up into his head.

“One more time, darling,” Don coaxes as his own release closes in. “One more.”

Bobby shakes, listens to Don’s command and Don clenches. It’s enough to push Bobby over the edge and Don keeps riding him until his own orgasm crashes into him.

“Fuck, fuck,” Bobby sobs.

It’s too much and Don is quick to grab the controller to turn off the vibrator. Warmth trickles down Don’s spine as he catches his breath, his hand brushing Bobby’s hair in front of his face.

“I’m gonna pass out,” Bobby slurs.

His eyes are closed, a hint of a smile on his face and Don kisses him on the corner of his mouth. He starts undoing Bobby’s tied wrists, kisses the marks that will remain there until morning.

Bobby shivers when Don pulls out the vibrator and he swipes his thumb across Bobby’s fluttering hole. The little gasp that leaves Bobby is almost enough to encourage Don to go again, but the exhaustion of the day has started to edge in.

Giving Bobby a kiss, Don then stumbles to the bathroom and grabs a washcloth to clean the two of them off.

Bobby is already asleep when Don comes back, limbs thrown about on the bed. It brings a smile to Don’s face and he cleans Bobby dutifully, kissing him as he goes along.

When he tucks himself in next to Bobby, Don glances at his phone and sees a text from Joe.

Chuck and Roger are okay

With the reassurance that all is right with the world, Don pulls Bobby close. It’s been a hell of a day, but in the end, Don wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

#coxstroke #bobby moch #don hume #bobby moch x don hume #don hume x bobby moch #salix's sideblog escapades

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runnning-outof-time · 2 years ago

Text

The Events That Befall Us | Tommy Shelby x Reader - Chapter 8 of Zablife’s Story Share

Request: no - Chapter 8 of @zablife ‘s Story Share - find more of the story HERE.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Solomons!reader

Summary: Some time has passed, and (Y/N)'s time at the safe house she was sent to felt like it dragged on without Tommy by her side. Everything seems to be fine though...until it doesn't.

Warnings: threats made against a person

Word Count: 3052

A/N: I’m really excited to share this addition to the story with y’all … hopefully it makes sense and flows along with the rest. Also I hope it’s ok that I added a title to it, Lee … I wasn’t sure if one had been added before and couldn’t find it, so I thought one up. I wanted to give a shoutout to @flysafepapi whos notes helped me out immensely on planning this chapter out. I’ve babbled enough now…Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: Almost forgot to say that I’ll be handing this over to the lovely @there-goes-thefighter next!! I can’t wait to see where she takes it!!

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

———

"When will you come to get me?" (Y/N) asked, her fingers tapping against her chin as she looked out the window. The seaview from her second story bedroom was lovely to look at, but it wasn't the familiar plains of Warwickshire, and its presence made (Y/N) feel sadder with each passing day.

"I don't know yet," Tommy's voice came crackly through the receiver, a stark reminder that he still wasn't by her side.

(Y/N)'s heart sank as she heard his response. She didn't know how she did it just a mere months ago, but now being apart from Tommy felt like pure torture. The days were dragging, and the times - like this one - where Tommy was on the other end of the receiver were the only ones where she felt like she was alive. But this was the safest place for her to be...at least that was what everyone kept telling her.

"I miss you, Tommy," she said in a soft voice, the child-like nature of her words making her feel pathetic for saying them. But it was the truth.

"I know, love," his response made it seem evident that he held the same feelings that she did. It was just that he was trying to hold them back. Her being away again after he'd just gotten her back was killing him, but he knew that it was for the better. It wasn't safe for her to be with him right now...not until everything blew over. He let out a sigh and brought his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose before he spoke again: "I need to sort a few things out yet before it'll be safe here again."

"What things?" she asked him although she knew that it'd most likely be a dead end question.

"I can't say," his response proved her right, and it made her exhale a sigh.

"Whatever it is, Tommy..." she trailed off, swallowing thickly before continuing, "I just need you to stay safe."

He knew that he couldn't promise her his safety. That wasn't guaranteed in the line of work he found himself in. But he also couldn't have her across the country, worrying about him with nothing she could do to help her case. "I will," he told her, hoping that his voice didn't betray him. "I have to go, (Y/N). I will call later," he said then, his eyes focused on the clock that sat on the corner of his desk.

"Ok, Tommy," she agreed with him, though her heart hurt more now than before. Finishing the call was always the worst. It once again made her wonder how she was able to run off with no word to him on where she was going. Things were different then, she kept telling herself, and now she couldn't stand to be away from his side. Reuniting with him that for that one night reminded her of what she had with him. "I love you," she breathed then, her eyes on the sea once more.

"I love you," his words were raw, sincere, and it made her heart clench. If only she could see him; hold him, maybe things would be the slightest bit better.

The phone call ended there, and (Y/N) didn't miss the haunting fact that she was now truly alone, once again. Setting her chin on her hand that was propped up on the desk she was sitting at, she watched the sea as its waves rolled in and out. If only she could be the sea...moving about without a care; able to do what she wanted, to be with who she wanted. Things have changed now though, trouble was eminent, and she was doing everything she could to keep herself on the sidelines of it. Her days of meddling about were finished for now, whether she liked it or not. She'd have to let the men sort it out. Whether that was good or not, she did not know.

But if there was one thing she knew to be true, it was that being stuck in this bedroom; in this house for days on end without doing as much as walking its grounds was starting to eat her alive. She needed to do something, to get out. So she stood from the desk and grabbed a coat to ward off the chilliness she'd surely be met with outside. After slipping on her shoes, she walked down the steps and into the home's front room.

Mariam, the house's owner, was sitting on one of the chairs, and she smiled at (Y/N) once she noticed her. She was a sweet, older woman who was happy to grant (Y/N) asylum after her living arrangement with Alfie didn't prove to be working. It was agreed upon that there was a potential threat of her being found at her brother's residence, so she was relocated to this address, which was only known to Alfie, her uncle, Charles, and Tommy. (Y/N) couldn't deny that she liked having the other woman's company, but it didn't completely quell her longing for something familiar.

"What will you do today, Ms. Solomons?" Mariam asked, addressing (Y/N) by her maiden name so that suspicions didn't rise around the town. Alfie was known personally around Margate, but Tommy was not. The Shelby name surely preceded him though, so they didn't want to take any chances.

"I think I will go into town; to have a change in scenery," (Y/N) answered, finding her purse hanging by the door. "Is there anything I can get you from the market?" she asked as she turned to look at the woman in the chair.

"No," Mariam shook her head, "be safe out there. Enjoy your time."

"Thank you," (Y/N) said with a nod and a slight smile as she grabbed hold of the door handle. Mariam smiled at her as she then opened the door and exited the house. The air, as expected, was chilly, but (Y/N) smiled as it hit her face. It felt good to be out again, and now the possibilities of what to do were endless.

——

It sounded silly, but being out amongst others felt so foreign to (Y/N). She'd spent the past few weeks in the safe house, and the only person she really had to talk to was Mariam. Occasionally some other, older women would come over and spend time with Mariam, which (Y/N) also relished in, but usually her days were spent in solitude.

She wore a smile as she walked around the coastal town, taking in all of the sights and sounds that were surrounding her. A small shop eventually caught her eye. It was one of those catch-all typed shops that had many different sorts of things in it, from knick-knacks to food goods.

"Good afternoon!" the shop's owner greeted her from behind the register, "feel free to look around and let me know if you need help."

"Thank you," (Y/N) smiled at the man before she started to walk down the first aisle. She took her time, looking at all of the wares that were on display.

Nothing seemed to catch her eye until she found a knick-knack that made her smile. It was small in size, and was of two, cream-colored birds that were facing each other. The words 'love birds' were etched into each of the birds; one word on each bird. Looking at it reminded her of her and Tommy, and it was that warming thought that made her take it off of the shelf. Sure, it was corny, but she was hoping that similar thoughts would come to her every time she looked at it.

She continued down the aisles, looking closely at the other things that were on sale so that she wouldn't miss any potential good finds. She made her way through the store slowly, and eventually found herself at the cash register. In her hands was the bird knick-knack and also a porcelain mouse that was holding a pink flower in its hands. She thought that Mariam would like that, considering that she had many other, similar pieces placed around her home.

"Have you found everything you needed?" the same man that greeted her asked, a welcoming smile on his face.

"Yes," (Y/N) nodded as he began checking her out. She exited the store minutes later after thanking the shop's owner, and after looking both ways, she decided to continue to the right.

Something caught her eye before she began walking. A man, dressed in a navy blue, tailored suit and a matching fedora, was leaning up against the lamp post. (Y/N)'s eyes lingered on him for a moment, and she watched as he tried to avert his eyes the second he noticed her looking. Seeing him made (Y/N) furrow her eyebrows. He looked like he had a purpose, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it could be. Brushing his presence off, she turned to the right and began walking down the street. There was a bakery a few stores away, and she planned to get herself a snack before turning back to go home.

But something immediately seemed off. From the corner of her eye, she could see the fedora-wearing man walking parallel to her, a few steps behind on the sidewalk across the street. An uneasy feeling bubbled up inside of her. Who could he be? What could he want? The questions started bouncing around her mind. Half of her wanted to go over and ask him these questions outright. Realization struck her before she could though. He was probably just one of the men, the soldiers, that Alfie had hired on to make sure that she was protected no matter where she was.

The only thing that threw her off slightly was the way he was dressed...none of the soldiers she'd met in the past ever wore something as nice as the suit this man had on. Maybe he's just upped the ante she thought to herself before dismissing the thought and grabbing the handle of the bakery's door. This was her time to enjoy herself, and she wasn't going to let what was happening amidst her families crowd her mind.

——

Tommy nodded at the two men standing on either side of the closed doors as he walked up to them. Wordlessly, the men opened the door, both nodding back at Tommy before they allowed him to walk inside what looked like a boardroom. It was empty, save for one other man. A man that made Tommy's blood boil almost immediately.

"Shelby," the man greeted after taking the toothpick out of his mouth, "you've decided to meet me."

"Nothing's changed, Luca," Tommy's response was curt, letting the other man know that no advances had been made in the time that had passed since their previous dealings.

"But you've still decided to meet me," Luca pointed out, his eyebrows raised as he motioned for Tommy to sit down in the empty seat across from him. Tommy glanced down before he pulled the chair out and sat in it.

"I'm meeting you because of the letter you've sent," Tommy clarified, leaning back against the chair.

"So I've piqued your interest?"

"You don't need to bring (Y/N) into this," Tommy jumped right to the chase, his voice steely to show the seriousness of the matter.

"Why shouldn't I?" Luca countered, "doing so has gotten you to this room with me."

"No civilians, no children...we agreed upon that," Tommy pointed out, hoping that reminding the man sitting opposite of him would get that man to reconsider his strategy.

But it didn't. "Of which (Y/N) is neither, so tell me why I should leave her out of this," Luca asked for an explanation.

Tommy had one in a second, "because she's not who caused this. She has nothing to do with her uncle, or the things that he's into."

"And what are you willing to do?"

"Excuse me?" Tommy quirked an eyebrow.

"What are you willing to do to leave her out of this?" the Italian clarified, placing the toothpick back into his mouth, moving it around as he waited for the other man's response.

Tommy took a moment to respond, thinking about what was just said. "What do you want?" he decided to throw the question back onto the other man.

"Charles Solomons," Luca named the name, his focus zeroed in on Tommy, watching for the smallest moves or changes.

"And if I give him to you?"

"She's safe."

"If not?" Tommy countered then, cocking his head to the side slightly as he asked about the flip side of the deal that was being wagered.

"Then I tell my men to move in on (Y/N). She'll become a lesson," Luca didn't hesitate in laying out the consequences. Tommy narrowed his eyes at the man sitting across from him. "I know where she is, Shelby," Luca revealed the ace hid up his sleeve. Tommy's lips parted slightly at the admission even though he tried to hide the shock. "I know that she's waiting for you...that you don't know when you'll come to get her...that she misses you. Maybe you should've gone when you had the chance..." he trailed off, tutting at the man across from him.

Tommy didn't know what to say. He seemed to be stuck between a rock and a hard place, and although he wanted to believe that the other man was bluffing, he couldn't ignore the obvious details. Luca must've been listening in to their calls; he had to have known where she was.

A grin formed on Luca's face. He had Tommy right where he wanted him. He broke the silence as he stood from the chair: "bring me Solomons or she's gone, Shelby," he ordered, giving the man in front of him the ultimatum before he left the room without giving the chance for a rebuttal.

—

Later that night, Tommy got a phone call. He picked it up and felt his heart clench at the voice that came through the receiver. "Tommy, I...I think something bad's about to happen," (Y/N)'s words were filled with worry.

"What is it, love?" he asked her, even though he knew what might already say.

"There's men. They...they've been around town, and have been trailing me, and now they're outside the house," she paused, taking a steadying breath before continuing, "I thought they were your's; Alfie's, but I'm not sure anymore. They seem...different, foreign almost," she finished with another deep breath. Tommy clenched his hand together in a tight fist at the words his wife uttered. "Tommy, I..."

"(Y/N), shh," he cut her off, hating the way her voice was cracking now, "it's ok. It's going to be ok. We...we can't talk anymore, but I'm going to make this right, I..."

"You're going to stop calling me? Why?" she cut him off this time.

"The why doesn't matter. Just don't worry, eh?" he stressed.

"Now that you've said that, I'm going to worry," she pointed out. "Is there anything I can do?" she asked then.

Tommy let out a sigh and dropped his head into his hand. "This will get fixed. You just need to stay inside the house. Don't interfere, no matter what happens," he spoke seriously.

There was a pause on the other side of the line. (Y/N) thought over what he said. Her fight or flight instinct was itching to kick in, and she so wanted to choose the former of the options. But Tommy was just about begging her to go for the latter. After a few moments, she exhaled a sigh, "ok," she agreed with his directions.

"Good," Tommy spoke quickly once he heard her agreement, "good, (Y/N). I...I have to go now, love, ok? I'll make this right," he assured her again as he got ready to end the call.

"I love you, Tommy," she told him, trying to keep the worry from her words.

"I love you," he echoed the sentiment before saying his goodbye. (Y/N) followed suit with one of her own before the line went dead. She hung up the phone with a shaky breath before closing her eyes. Something was happening, and she had not a clue what it was. Now she had to put her trust completely in her husband and hope that that would be the right choice.

——

Tommy was up at first light, hooking his best horse up to the wooden vardo that he planned on taking on his journey. He worked with an urgency, hastily making sure that everything was squared away so that he could start out without much delay. He'd just climbed up on the front seat and took hold of the reins when he heard his name being called.

"Tommy?" it sounded like Johnny Dogs, and his voice was approaching quickly. "Tommy?" he called again as he appeared around the corner of the stable.

"Yeah?" Tommy asked, his eyes not leaving the ground.

"Where ya goin', Tom?" Johnny questioned, confusion in his voice.

"Margate, Johnny," Tommy decided to be honest, knowing that the man he was talking to wouldn't tell a soul.

"Margate? Why's that? And why by horse?" more questions were hurled in his direction.

"I need to get to (Y/N)," he answered, his eyes still averted, "I'm going off of the roads. There'll be men who meet me halfway, they'll drive with me to Margate," he detailed the plan.

"It'll be dangerous, Tom," Johnny pointed out, hesitance seeping into his voice.

"That's why I'm going alone," Tommy paused, clearing his throat before continuing, "I'm willing to take my chances to get to her."

He finally looked up then, and Johnny instantly knew that nothing he could say would change the other man's mind. Tommy was like a horse with blinders on now. He needed to get to (Y/N) before trouble did, and he was going to get there, even if it meant going through hell or high water.

(Y/N) was the only thing on his mind.

———

Tagged: @mgcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @peaky-cillian @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @lovemissyhoneybee @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @raincoffeeandfandoms @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @lora21 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby oneshot #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #zablifestoryshare

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at1nys-blog · 10 months ago

Note

Please may I have a Blue exorcist angst headcanon of unfortunate circumstances of how Rin would react when he finds out that his girlfriend's parents were victims of the illuminati experiments and they were zombies and dead and she took it pretty badly..they died when she was 6 and it turned out they were experiments in the illuminati organisation and they died as a result as their lab rats. She just cried in Rin's arms at the death of her parents and the unfortunate circumstances surrounding this and it was unfortunate and a horrible circumstance in so many ways.

The characters from the pervious request I sent..who would react quite badly as well to her tears and the unfortunate circumstances surrounding this..(excluding Renzō).

https://www.tumblr.com/at1nys-blog/744485256545124352/please-may-i-have-a-blue-exorcist-headcanon-of-rin?source=share

https://youtu.be/qoz3kBxdsPk?si=_GCDGJ_giY7nazoX (go to 0:47 of when she cried)

Making this when they get to Peaceful Inari so Izumo's gonna be different. Fun fact I never learned the Illuminati's scientist's name and I had to open another tab so I can check when I need to use his name.

A/N: I wrote once a hc for OP because I kept talking about it with a friend and I thouht that would be the last time I wrote such a thing but now? Why is so fun writing those????? Also, feedback is appreciated :)

Mission is easy: Saving Izumo Kamiki and Shima Renzo from the Illuminati

What to expect: enemies to attack you

What not to expect: past traumas punching you in the face.

The second you enter the Illuminati's hq you are surronded by human zombies

and while everyone fights you just... drop on your knees because of the magic of ✨Trauma✨

Everyone is confused why are you doing NOTHING when you are supposed to either fight or find a way to survive this

But... you are crying???

Yukio Okumura's HC

Yukio knows

Of course he does. You have told him about it he asked you why you wanted to become an Exorcist

Yes, he didn't know the details of how your parents died but still

drops in front of you because he wants to hear what you have to say

Shoots at some zombies in the meantime

When you tell him about your parents he is furious????Like who would do such a thing????

But doesn't show it much on the outside

When you cry into his arms makes sure the two of you are safe and let's you a couple of minutes before reminds you about the mission

doesn't leave your side

Not even when they try to seprate you

Rin Okumura's HC

Boy is as confused as everyone else

Why are you not fighting????

Every zombies he "takes down" he checks up if you are fine, spoiler: you are not

Comes closer to make sure the zombies don't get at you but still stands up to fight a couple of them

Bon assures him he can talk to you, he will protect you

doesn't know if to ask you what is happening or wait for you to talk

when you tell him his blood is boiling and he wants nothing more than to find this Gedoin and tear this place down

You have to stop him because now the only thing you want to do is crying in his arms (he gives the best hugs not gonna lie)

He let's you be

As Yukio would never leave your side but manages to fail when you get separeted

Hopes you are doing fine and that Kuro gets to you first (Kuro does)

Ryūji Suguro’s HC

He wants to scold you so bad because you can't do that RIGHT NOW you are on a mission for God's sake

But at the same time wants to know what the hell is going on. Asks Rin to protect you two.

He doesn't know what to say, nor think for that matter, when you tell him about your parents

When you start crying he is more lost

He doesn't know how to comfort you, he never did it before

Keeps silent while you cry in his arms

Mentally noted to take special care when fighting this Gedoin

WIPES AWAY YOUR TEARS AND TRIES TO MAKE A JOKE WHICH MAKES YOU GIGGLE A LITTLE

Checks up on you and smiles when you are back into "badass Exorcist" again

Promises you, he is treating you to your favorite food/resturant

Konekomaru Miwa’s HC

Very confused and it shows

Kinda forgets about the zombies

Asks you why aren't you fighting, goes :O when you tell him about your parents

Lets you cry in his arms while the fight is going on around the two of them (I totally pictured the scene in my mind through a meme...)

Asks you if you can fight. If yes, makes sure you are doing fine; if not makes it his personal mission to keep you safe without too much help from the others (my hcs is that he isn't as weak as he think he is)

He finds it hard to attack them now because what if they are your parents?

When he gets out of his prison his first thought is to find you

He might not be able to comunicate with Kuro but tries his best to make him understand that he HAS to safe you first

Hugs you when he sees you because he is glad you are fine (he is pessimistic at heart and might or might not have thought you lost all hope to survive)

Try and leave his, or Kuro's side. No, I am serious good luck. He won't let you out his sight nor anywhere away from that cat

Shiemi Moriyama's HC

Realizes something is off before everyone elses

The second she sees you on your knees tell Nee-Chan to create a protection field so you aren't reached from the zombies

Gives you time, but the second you start crying?

She is next to you immediatelly

Unlike the others she is focused on you and only you, forgets where you are honestly

When you tell her about your parents, starts crying with you

Strokes your hair and back whispering that everything is okay

Might start singing or reciting a poem because that is what her mother does when she is sad

Wipes away your tears

Shiemi: I like you better when you smile, even though when you cry you are cute too

Kamiki Izumo's HC

She finds out about your parents at the hospital

She is mad at Shiemi because she is crying

And confused at your lack of interaction.

You tell her you feel sorry for what happened to her mother

Oh now she is mad again because how can you understand what she is going through, uh?

Back at crying because now you have to relive that day AGAIN

Izumo is taken aback, she never saw you crying before. She doesn't know what to do.

She finds herself in your bed, holding your hand while you tell her your story

Looks at Shiemi for advice but she just tells her to be there and listen

“😳” at first when you cry on her arms but then she would loosen it up and stroke your back

#*ೃ༄ at1nys blog˚◞♡ ⃗#blue exorcist #ao no exorcist #blue exorcist anime #ao no exorcist anime #blue exorcist manga #ao no exorcist manga #blue exorcist headcanons #ao no exorcist headcanons #rin okumura #yukio okumura #ryuji suguro bon #miwa konekomaru #shiemi moriyama

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ridiasfangirlings · 2 years ago

Text

Title: Lovely, Dark and Warm (15/15)

Fandom: K Project

External: AO3

Pairings: Sarumi

Ratings/Warnings: M

Summary: Totsuka Tatara was dead, Homra was certain of that. But rumors persisted, that he had been seen wandering the alleys of Shizume, with blood on his shirt and a mouth hanging open.

In retrospect, that was how every zombie apocalypse started, after all.

Notes: And it’s done! Thanks everyone for dealing with my inability to keep a steady update schedule.

Neko ran back and forth excitedly, staring out all the windows of the airship and pointing down.

“Shiro, Shiro, look! Look, Shiro!” From one window and then the other. “Look there! Look, Shiro, that restaurant has a fish on the sign! Let’s stop for fish!”

“We’ll get fish soon,” Shiro promised with a soft laugh, walking up beside her. Neko looked up at him, hesitating for only a moment as if to remind herself that this tall man with the silver hair was indeed her Shiro, and then she brightened and gave a small cheer. Shiro put a hand on her shoulder, staring out at the cityscape that stretched before them. He’d seen it many times from up here but this was the first time he’d truly had people with him that he could call companions — friends, important people who he never wanted to lose.

“It seems we are nearly to our destination.” Kuroh came out of one of the side rooms, moving to join them by the windows. “Kukuri tells me they will be glad to see us.”

“I’ll have to thank the Blue King, that we were able to establish contact so quickly,” Shiro said with a soft laugh. After the defeat of the Colorless King a week ago all of the undead in the city had promptly ceased to move and had turned into the true dead. Scepter 4, in combination with Kokujouji’s remaining men from the Timeless Palace, had begun the heavy task of cleaning out the city, finding those still alive and attempting to return Shizume to something that could plausibly be described as ‘normal.’ The school island, too, had been a consideration in this, and Shiro had done his best to be sure they weren’t forgotten in all the mess. With so much else that needed taking care of, sparing people to fix up a school wasn’t easily done and so Shiro had requested to take responsibility for it. It was the least he could do, for the people he had sheltered with for months.

And besides…I really wanted to go back there. It was strange to think of now — the last time he’d been on this ship it had been his home and his tomb, a beast of steel and engine noise, soaring above the people who he had no interest in learning about. It had been a place of frozen time, where he remained forever unmoving even as the airship charted the same path around the city day after endless day.

The ship itself had been heavily damaged when the Colorless King had crashed it into Mihashira Tower. The remains had been stored beneath the tower haphazardly, out of sight, and then the Colorless King had largely forgotten about it. After the Colorless King’s defeat they had discovered that Kokujouji’s clan had not been entirely wiped clean and that many of the Rabbits had escaped that first night, when the Colorless King overtook Kokujouji’s body and began to kill as many of them as he could to make into his undead soldiers. Those who had escaped returned as soon as their injured but still alive King had summoned them back, and had been able to get the ship back into something of a working order. It was enough to get them back to the island at least.

From there…Shiro supposed it would be fine if he left the ship on the ground, and started to live with people. As long as Kuroh and Neko were with him, that would be enough.

“His Excellency sent a message as well.” Kuroh’s voice broke into his thoughts. “He wishes you well.”

“My old friend….” Shiro smiled softly. “I hope he recovers soon. I would like to talk to him more, when we have time.”

“I am sure there will be time later,” Kuroh agreed. “That is something I believe we will have much of, now.”

“I’ve always had it,” Shiro noted. “But you know…until now it hasn’t meant much. Is it weird that I’m looking forward to having time now?”

“I do not believe anyone would blame you for that,” Kuroh said, smiling. “We have a lot of work to do.”

“Yes,” Shiro agreed. “How is he?”

“Still sleeping.”

“I see…I hope one day soon he, too, will have time with us.”

The white-haired boy, the one whose body had once housed the Colorless King and then Shiro himself, slept in the bowels of the ship, still unconscious despite the Silver King’s power of ‘immortality’ healing the wound that would have killed him. He had remained asleep all this time and no one could say when he might wake. Even so, Shiro had requested to bring him along to the school island, using the airship’s own infirmary setup to look after the boy’s continued health.

In a way Shiro felt that he owed that child thanks, after everything. It would have felt wrong to leave him in a lonely hospital room to wake up surrounded by uncaring walls. This way, when he awoke, he would have friends nearby, and Shiro could finally tell him ‘thank you.’

“Shiro, look! The school! Kukuri!” Neko jumped up and down and waved, as if she could see Kukuri even though the school island had only just appeared over the horizon.

“Shiro.” Kuroh was looking at him, gently, and Shiro laughed.

“Well, then…let’s all go home!”

—

Awashima wiped her brow with the back of her hand, pushing away her own fatigue as she barked orders at another group of Scepter 4 clansmen moving boxes towards the hangar. There were supplies to be delivered to those still sheltering in place in the city and Munakata was still coordinating the rebuilding with the Gold King. There was no time for her to rest.

“Awashima-kun.” Munakata’s voice floated over to her as she approached and Awashima gave him a grateful smile. She rattled off a few quick orders to Akiyama and then moved to join her King, leaving Akiyama to take charge of things for just a bit.

“Captain.” Awashima saluted and Munakata waved a hand at her to relax.

“Please do not neglect your own health, Awashima-kun,” he said softly and Awashima frowned, wondering if she’d let the fatigue show on her face.

“I assure you sir, I am—“

“You are dependable as always,” Munakata said. “Still, even the most dependable must have a break now and again. Come sit with me a moment.”

It was then that Awashima noticed the two cups of green tea in his hands and she gave a relieved smile, nodding and walking with him towards a bench along the side of the warehouse.

“I assume all is going well?” Munakata handed her a cup and Awashima took it gratefully.

“Currently our reconnaissance of the city is at ninety percent. There are only a few more places which need to be mapped and added to the reconstruction list. Cleanup has progressed well and twenty percent of the city is ready for reoccupation.”

“Lower than I would like,” Munakata admitted, considering. “But still an excellent job nonetheless. We were fortunate that Tsubakimon took little damage, and Fushimi-kun was able to get the computer system up swiftly.”

“Speaking of Fushimi-kun, it seems he hasn’t returned yet…?” It wasn’t as though she liked to pry, but Awashima knew it wasn’t like Fushimi to not be hard at work even when all the rest of them were taking a break.

“He will be back shortly.” Munakata chuckled quietly. “He has taken few breaks in this last week. I believe he had some personal business to attend to, so I had him take a little time off.”

“So…he will be back?” Awashima hesitated to say it but felt that someone should. “Suoh Mikoto has returned and it seems even Homra is rebuilding. That being the case, Fushimi-kun could return there if he wished to.”

“There is no fear of that.” Munakata smiled widely. “As he left Fushimi-kun gave me quite the tirade, he was considerably annoyed at being sent away when he had so much work to do. I expect he will return in full good humor, as always.”

Awashima raised an eyebrow at that ‘good humor’ but decided it best not to respond.

“In any case, we will have to keep good relations with Homra as well. I assume Kusanagi-shi has been in contact?”

“Yes,” Awashima said. She fully remembered the scream when he’d answered the phone; apparently she had called right when he’d stepped back into Bar Homra for the first time since Homra’s failed attack on Mihashira. “They will do their part to assist the people on the ground. There are a surprising amount who remained hidden and safe throughout the ordeal.”

“Zenjoh-san will be coordinating additional refugees as well. The official line that His Excellency has sent to foreign countries is that Shizume was ground zero for an industrial explosion that released a potent poison gas, the fallout from which cut off all communications until recently.”

“Will that be believable?” Not that Awashima wanted to question the Gold King but such an explanation felt thin when they’d been fighting on the ground so long.

“Coming from His Excellency, I suspect it will at least be enough to silence questions for the foreseeable future, particularly as we do not expect such a disaster to occur again.”

“A disaster…” There was one other thing that was weighing on her mind but Awashima was uncertain if it would be presumptuous of her to ask.

“You are wondering about Suoh Mikoto?” As always, Munakata knew what she was thinking. “That man remains as troublesome as always. I had hoped that briefly becoming an undead might teach him some humility and restraint but, alas. I suppose one cannot expect a beast to become human so easily.”

“You told me he destroyed the Colorless King,” Awashima said carefully. “In that case, wouldn’t there be a danger from his Sword of Damocles?”

“Currently all is well on that end.” Despite his words Munakata looked thoughtful. “The Silver King’s power of ‘immortality’ seems to be able to extend beyond himself. He was, so he tells me, unaware of such a thing until the Colorless King pinned his body to the Dresden Slate. It was that ‘immortality’ which combined with the Colorless King’s own powers to create the virus we knew as the undead, and which gave the person who called himself ‘Isana Yashiro’ the ability to heal wounds delivered by those connected to the Slate. It was also that ability which he used to keep Suoh’s Sword in check. It is not ‘healing,’ in this case, but rather…a bandage.”

“Will that…bandage hold?”

“That remains to be seen.” Munakata smiled thinly. “In any case, it has bought us some time to uncover a more permanent answer. And in the meantime, Suoh is as energetic as ever.”

“The Red King…energetic?” Awashima repeated, mystified, and Munakata only laughed.

“Now, it seems our break is at an end.” Munakata set aside his empty cup and stood. “We have much work to do.”

His smile was confident and sure, and that was enough to set aside any lingering doubts in Awashima’s heart. He reached a hand out to her and she took it, rising.

They did indeed have much work left to do.

—

“Ah…another one.” Kusanagi couldn’t stop the dejected sigh as yet another wine glass broke into pieces in his hand. Even so he rubbed half-heartedly at the stem with a small dusty towel, putting a hand to his head.

It wasn’t like he’d expected the bar to be in the shape he left it in. It had been months after all, and they were in the middle of the zombie apocalypse. He knew from Yata’s report that the bar had been attacked after they’d left and he knew that the place wasn’t going to be in the best of shape after being left alone to the undead for so long.

Still, he hadn’t expected this level of destruction. The bar counter was covered in deep scratches and marks, ones that all the buffing in the world wouldn’t get out, and most of his glasses were beyond repair. There was absolutely nothing left of the wine and spirits collection that he was so proud of and the wine cellar was a mess.

Well, remodeling would probably be for the best on that one, I suppose. He’d also heard from Awashima, about Fushimi’s ordeal. All things considered, having the wine cellar ripped out entirely and a new one installed might be the better option. Either way, he wouldn’t be ready to reopen the place for a while yet.

The bell above the door chimed weakly and waved precariously on its crumbling chain as Mikoto walked in. Anna was by his side, clutching his shirt, and she ran to Kusanagi as they stepped inside.

“We found supplies,” Anna reported and Kusanagi smiled, looking up at the box hoisted onto Mikoto’s shoulder.

“Good work. We need to start restockin’, if we’re gonna help anyone resettle around here.” Most of that would be Scepter 4 and the Timeless Palace’s work, but Kusanagi expected there would always be people who would fall through the cracks and it would be Homra’s job to keep an eye on them. Being known as a place of shelter for those with nowhere else to go would be a start.

“Where do you want it?” Mikoto asked and Kusanagi pointed to the back room.

“Back there, if you don’t mind.”

“Mmm.” Mikoto walked past him and Kusanagi watched him go, thoughtful. The effects of Mikoto’s time as a living servant under the Colorless King’s control didn’t seem to be visible at all, but still it made him worried.

Anna’s hand touched his wrist and Kusanagi turned to give her a smile.

“Anna. Kamamoto was by earlier, he found somethin’ good for you. There’s ice cream in the freezer.”

Anna’s eyes went wide and Kusanagi put a hand on her head.

“Go on. It’s a treat for all the hard work.”

Anna nodded happily and slipped behind him towards the kitchen. Kamamoto and the other Homra guys that they’d managed to gather up had at least gotten the power back on and found him a fridge and freezer, so something was going right.

Mikoto returned from setting down the supplies, throwing himself onto the tattered couch and lighting a cigarette. Kusanagi reached for another glass and glanced over at him.

“You okay?”

“Guess so.” Mikoto blew smoke, staring up at the ceiling.

“I heard from the Silver King this morning.” Kusanagi crouched down, looking for something beneath the bar counter. “He said he’ll be by once they’ve gotten the school island cleared out. To decide what to do next.”

Mikoto scowled at that and Kusanagi sighed.

“I know. You don’t like bein’ bound to that guy’s goodwill, right? Not much we can do about it now.” Kusanagi’s face turned thoughtful. “He did us a favor though. You got to take care of him in the end, right? The guy who killed Totsuka.”

Mikoto took his cigarette out of his mouth for a moment, watching the smoke curl from the end.

“Yeah. ‘S a pain though.”

“Mikoto.” Kusanagi’s tone was enough to get Mikoto to look up. “You know I’m not gonna stand in the way of you doing what you want to do. But still…I’m glad you’re back, you know? For Anna’s sake too.”

Mikoto looked momentarily surprised and then gave a wry smile, nodding.

“Well…someone’s gotta deal with ‘that guy’ too.”

“The Blue King? Mikoto….” Kusanagi shook his head. “Just try not to destroy any buildings that aren’t already destroyed, y’hear?”

“Can’t promise that.” Mikoto was grinning though and Kusanagi couldn’t quite bring himself to argue with him.

“Well, anyway. C’mere for a sec.” Two glasses sat on the bar counter, slightly damaged, the best ones he’d managed to salvage. As Mikoto walked over Kusanagi grinned and held up his prize: a single pristine bottle of wine. “Had it hidden for a special occasion. Looks like even the undead couldn’t find it. Seems a good enough to time to try it, right?”

He began to pour them each a drink. Mikoto took the glass and lifted it to his mouth, only to be stopped by Kusanagi’s quiet voice.

“Totsuka….”

“Yeah. He’s gone. He was already gone when I got there.” There was something heavy in Mikoto’s voice but at the same time Kusanagi had the strange feeling that Mikoto was trying to console him as well.

“I see. Sorry I didn’t get to see him off.” Kusanagi held his glass up as if in a toast, and Mikoto lightly clinked his glass against it.

The bottom fell out of both glasses and wine stained their hands.

Kusanagi stared at it for a long moment, looking like an owl that had just missed its mouse, and then Mikoto gave a small snicker. Kusanagi found a smile spreading across his face and soon he was laughing too, shaking his head and handing Mikoto the bottle of wine. Mikoto tipped the bottle back in his mouth and took a drink, then handed it back for Kusanagi to do the same.

“That reminds me,” Kusanagi said afterward as he was setting the wine bottle onto the shelf behind the bar, “where’d Yata-chan get off to?”

“Hm, Yata?” Mikoto shrugged, glancing over as Anna ran up beside him with an ice cream pop in her hands. There was a secretive smile on her face.

“Misaki…is meeting someone important.”

—

Yata gave the vending machine a sturdy kick and was rewarded by it making a soft creaky whirring noise as it finally let go of the treasure inside. Two cans of cola dropped into the slot and Yata picked them up, one in each hand.

“Here. Saruhiko.” Yata tossed one to Fushimi as he approached the park bench where Fushimi sat hunched, wearing his blue uniform.

Yata still wasn’t used to seeing that. He didn’t know if he'd ever get used to it. But that wasn't really the important thing now.

“How old is this drink, Misaki?” Fushimi’s face twisted in displeasure as he caught the can.

“I dunno. The vending machine hasn’t been filled since the undead came and all, but the stuff that was in there when everything went down should still be good, right? Wait, the expiration…” He turned the can around in his hands, looking for a date, and then heard the sound of Fushimi opening the can beside him.

“Get to the point already, Misaki. I’ve got work to do.” Fushimi took a drink of the cola and then made a face, putting the can aside. Yata opened his own can and gave it a try. The soda was a little flat but it tasted good; he couldn’t remember the last time he had one of these.

“Don’t give me that, Saruhiko. Your boss is super lenient with you, right?” Yata grinned at Fushimi’s annoyed look. “Well, makes sense. You’re an amazing guy, Saruhiko.”

There was a long pause and Yata glanced hesitantly over at Fushimi. Fushimi had hunched forward and was staring down at his hands.

“…Not as amazing as Suoh Mikoto.” His voice was low and cold.

“That’s not what I meant!” Yata found himself taking Fushimi’s hands in his own. “Saruhiko. Hey. Look at me.”

“I am looking.” He wasn’t though, eyes turned away.

“Saruhiko…” Yata impulsively reached over with a hand, grabbing Fushimi by the chin. “Look. I’ll say it first, so you better listen to me. I’m…I’m sorry I left you behind, that time. I’m not gonna say it was wrong to try and go after that guy in Mihashira, or that Mikoto-san was wrong. But I should’ve listened to what you had to say too. I should’ve gone back for you as soon as I could, no matter what. Knowing I left you there all that time, when I could’ve been the one to save you…I’m always gonna regret that.”

He was staring straight into Fushimi’s eyes, fearlessly, and Yata could feel his face getting hot.

“I’m not gonna ask you to leave the Blues. Those guys did what I couldn’t so… so I guess I gotta be thankful to them for that. But you can’t convince me you don’t care about it, Saruhiko. I saw your face, when that guy made you think you’d killed me.”

“Moron.” Fushimi’s voice was soft, and Yata thought there was a faint flush on his cheeks as well. “You don’t know anything.”

“Then tell me. I’m right here, Saruhiko. Tell me everything I don’t know, so I can understand you again.”

“I’m not--” Fushimi tried to stand and Yata pulled him back down.

“I mean it. If—if you wanna talk about the cellar, I’m here. Or if you wanna talk about how your arm got hurt, or what happened in Mihashira, or when we fought back in Homra — I’ll listen to all of it. So tell me everything, and let me listen to you.”

“Misaki…” Fushimi’s eyes met his at last, the piercing blue that Yata knew so well, and Yata smiled back at him. “You really are an idiot.”

“So are you,” Yata replied, stubbornly. “If you don’t tell anyone, how are we supposed to know? I don’t wanna leave you in that cellar again. If—if you call for me, I’ll come for you, you know? I didn’t do it last time, and I could’ve lost you because of it. But if you believe in me and keep calling…this time I’ll be the one who gets to save you from the darkness.”

“That’s not something you can promise,” Fushimi muttered, slightly bitter, and Yata laughed.

“Yeah, well, I’m an idiot, aren’t I? I make stupid promises and I can’t seem to leave a guy like you on his own no matter how much you push me away. Guess we both just gotta deal with it, right?”

Fushimi froze for a moment and then his hand curled closed over Yata’s and he leaned forward tiredly, resting his forehead against Yata’s.

“You’re a real idiot. You couldn’t just hate me properly.”

“I’m glad you’re alive.” That was the truth of it, right there in those words, and they spilled from Yata’s mouth like a prayer. “I could’ve handled everything else, Saruhiko. But if you’d died…I don’t know what I would do.”

“You too.” Fushimi’s words were soft, hesitant, the kind of words whispered through a doorway in the darkness, and Yata knew he was pushing past something in his mind. “When I saw you had survived…it was annoying, that I wanted to hate you, and all I could feel was relief.”

“S-so, since we’re both alive…” Yata gave Fushimi’s hand a soft squeeze. “It’s okay, right? Whatever’s come between us, the stuff you won’t tell me and the stuff we both did wrong…it’s okay, as long as we’re still alive.”

“As long as we’re still alive.” Fushimi shifted and stood, pulling his coat around him.

“Saruhiko?” The sun was setting and in the light of dusk there was red in Fushimi’s hair, but when he turned his head towards Yata it looked like he was smiling.

“I have to get back to work, Misaki.”

“Ah, right. Yeah, I gotta get back to Homra, I promised Kusanagi-san I’d help…”

“Misaki.” Fushimi’s voice stopped him, and Yata looked up. “I’ll…I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The words were awkward, as if he wasn’t sure he was saying them right, but they made Yata grin even wider and he laughed, waving a hand.

“Right. I’ll see you tomorrow, Saruhiko!” And the tomorrow after that, and the one after that.

As long as they were alive they could keep looking forward to those tomorrows, together.

#sarumi #Fushimi Saruhiko #Yata Misaki #k project #fic #the great unfinished zombie apocalypse AU #which is no longer unfinished!#this was the oldest unfinished thing in my drafts I'm glad it got finished after all this time

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russellsppttemplates · 2 years ago

Text

I only care about you (Mick Schumacher)

Mick and Y/N are quite a private couple on the paddock, but as soon as everything non-essential is out of the equation, they become very expressive when it comes to the people they love

Note: english is not my first language

I got inspiration from these 'domestic prompts' lists on pinterest x

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and although I'm not taking requests per se, if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so!

Tw: curse words

Since there was no GP this weekend, you had spent the night at Mick's place to take the opportunity to spend as much time as you possibly could with him, the triple header ahead of you already promising to make spending time just with him on your own a bit difficult. When Mick woke up at his usual hour, his body working like a clock, he rotated his neck slightly to your side, watching how you were nestled to his side, your hand grabbing a handful of the sheets that were keeping you warm as you peacefully slept, and knowing how much your job had kept you up late that past week, he thought it would be nice to let you sleep for a bit longer. You had the whole weekend to yourselves and some rest would be good. Carefully getting up as to not wake you up, Mick headed to the ensuite for his morning routine, getting back in the bedroom to grab some gym clothes to workout on. As he folded the sheets and made his side of the bed, he went to your side, tucking the sheets around your body as he lightly kissed your head.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Angie's paws could be heard pattering on the wooden floor, her tail wagging at the prospect of a new day (and probably some food too), making him pet the dog until her wagging tail stopped, "Oh, why the sudden change, Angie?". The dog seemed to notice your absence, looking up the flight of stairs for you and ultimately deciding to make her way up to find you. As her paw set on the first step of the stairs, Mick quickly realised what, or who, rather, she was after, "No Angie, Y/N had a really hard week at work so today we're going to let her sleep, okay? It's just you and me this morning", he said as he noticed her stance drop, almost like a dog equivalent of a human shoulder slump from disappointment, since when did his dog not appreciate spending time with him?

Heading to the kitchen, Mick grabbed a pre-workout snack and made his way to his at home gym with Angie trailing right behind him. Looking at the equipment in the room and the cardio indications his trainer had sent him, he decided that he was going on the bike, figuring that, even though the sound isolation was pretty good, it would be the least likely to make too much noise to the point of waking you up.

He was all sweaty when he was back in the kitchen, grabbing whatever ingredients he could find to make a wholesome breakfast for the two of you after also hearing some commotion upstairs, signaling that you had woken up. You were making your way down the stairs when, much like she greeted Mick, Angie started wagging her tail as she stood with her front paws on the first step, "Hello Angie, good morning baby, how are you?", you said once you were in front of her on the floor, crouching down slightly while you petted her as she licked your face. Getting up, you followed her to the kitchen, assuming that it was where you could find your boyfriend. And there he was in his workout gear, the breathable material of his t-shirt clinging to the muscles on his back perfectly well as he maneuvered the mugs and pans around, and noticing he wasn't holding anything hot or sharp, you made your way to him and hugged his back, "Good morning my love", you mumbled into his back, not caring about the material on your cheek, "Good morning schatz", he said before turning around and facing you, "Did you have a good sleep?", he asked as he tamed some of the hairs that had fallen out of your braid and were hindering your eyes, pushing them to the back of you ears, "Mhmm, very good sleep indeed, thank you for letting me sleep until now", you smiled back at him, "I was going to make some breakfast for the both of us, so if you just sit there, please", he motioned to the bar stools by the counter, "you can watch while I cook it", he said charmingly. But you had another idea, "since you haven't started yet, why don't we go and have a shower first because I could use one and so do you", you tempted him as you interlocked your arms around his neck before he grabbed your thighs and locked your legs comfortably around his hips as he carried you to the shower.

Sitting at the counter as you shared breakfast, you thought it would be a nice time to mention something you wanted to get done this weekend, "You know how we talked about me bringing my things here?", you referred to the conversation you had a few weeks ago when Mick asked you to move in with him. It seemed logical to him as he was spending time at your place and you in his, things moving back and forth as you would often forget things in the other's house and it generated a whole situation every now and then, and as Mick put it, "I'm pretty sure I'm going to be with you until the end so might as well have you here all the time, and Angie could do with some company too when I'm not here and keep you company as well when she's not with me", and at the time it ticked all the boxes for you too but since you were in the middle of a work project, you decided to wait until things calmed down a bit. "I have talked to my landlord and he said he was okay with me ending the contract now, so if the option is still up, I wou-", you tried to finish as you felt Mick's hands grab your hips as he spun you around the room, "You're moving in? As in staying here with me forever?", your boyfriend of 4 years finally asked as he stopped turning, earning a nod from you, your head too dizzy to do anything else for the mean time as you also giggled at his reaction. As he set you down, you finally spoke, "yes, I have to pack my things and bring them over because there's people going there next week to see the flat, but then I can come and live with you", you smiled, pecking his lips, and as he didn't feel like it wasn't enough celebration, Mick deepened the kiss, grabbing your butt slightly as he intensified the affection. Angie must have felt excluded from the celebration, her snout trying to get in between yours' and Mick's legs, "Did you hear Angie? I'm going to be here full time now, we're going to have to share everything at all times", you scratched her head as she seemed the least bit worried about having another human to give her attention and treats.

Mick had been invited to of his engineers' wedding and, as expected, he brought you as his plus one. You looked gorgeous, the colour of your dress complimented your tones, the makeup on your face enhancing your naturally beautiful features and your hair was pinned back with a beautiful hairclip Mick had gifted you for your first anniversary. The German driver had no doubt you would be the most beautiful at the wedding, as he always found you to be no matter where he was.

When Mick got home, Angie was first to greet him at the door, sitting down as she looked up at him, waiting for some head scratches, "did you miss me today? I'm sure you're spending all your fun time with Y/N now, you probably don't even have time to think about me", he finished as he started taking his coat off, hanging it and then taking his shoes off to put them in their place. Noticing the smell from the kitchen, he made his way inside the room as you were drying your hands on one of the kitchen towells, "Hi bubs, how was your day at the factory?", you asked, going over to him to kiss his lips, "Hmm, it was nice, worked on the simulator for a bit and then we saw some things about the new car. And you?", he asked as his hands circled your waist, "it was good too, the new project is going well", you replied simply, "I already started making our dinner, the rice just needs a little bit more time and so does the chicken and the veggies in the oven, so if you want, you can go and change into your comfy clothes", you said as you stirred the rice, going to the drawer to grab a spoon, "but first try this, please. I asked your mum for the recipe but I'm not sure if it is supposed to taste like that", you said grabbing some of the sauce you had used on the chicken in the spoon. "Careful bubs, this is probay hot still", you said after you blowed some air on the spoon before bringing it to his mouth as your other hand formed a shell shape to not let anything that might drip fall on his clothes and burn him, "this is delicious, darling", he said after tasting it, remembering the many times his mother used to make this for him when he was younger, "but maybe make it a bit sweeter?", he mused as he looked around the ingredients you had used that were still in the counter, the pot of honey seeming like the final touch to the recipe, excusing himself to go and change with a kiss on your forehead. Grabbing the pot and another spoon, you drizzled some more honey in the sauce before you coated the meat in the oven, washing the cutlery and bowls you had used to prepare dinner when you heard Mick coming back, looking much comfier in one of his Under Armour sweatpants and t-shirts, "Is there anything I can help with?", he asked you as he rubbed his hands together, "the table is set already and the chicken just needs a little bit more time, so you can just sit there and look pretty, shouldn't be a tough job for you", you winked at him as you noticed the rosiness spread in his cheeks.

The couple had chosen to do a small and private ceremony before everyone had dinner under the night sky, a group of musicians playing some slow ballads for anyone who wanted to dance. "Why don't you go and have a dance with Y/N?", Gary suggested to Mick, "she just went to the car the change into some flats, her feet were getting sore from the heels and-, and I don't know how to dance with her", he murmured the last part, "What do you mean you don't know how to dance with her?", said his agent Sabine, "It's like dancing with everyone else", she tried to reason. Yes, you had pretended to ballroom dance in your living room through the years, either inspired by a movie scene or some sing that played, but it was always in a funny way, never acutally following through it properly, his motor skills incling towards buttons on a steering wheel and less to patterns of rhythmic steps, and since you hadn't been together to many events where it would be expected for you to dance a ballad, the occasion and need to do it never came.

"C'mon man, I think she would really appreciate it too, you guys are such a lovely couple, and you might as well do something because Adam is out there just making a fool of himself", he said pointing to his colleagues who could not dance even if his life depended on it, even stepping on some of the children's toes. Mick reasoned that it would be nice, having you close to him as you danced, the ambient of the room was nice and he trusted everyone that was in there and quite frankly, how hard could it be for someone who also learnt button sequences to make a car move fast? When you arrived back from your footwear change, Mick got up and approached you by the door, Sabine and Gary watching the scene unfold from afar, "Ms Y/L/N, may I have the honor of dance?", your boyfriend said catching you off-guard as you accepted the hand he stretched out and headed to the dance area. The team whistled and clapped for the initiative as you hid your face in Mick's chest, holding his waist as you swayed to the music, "they're really enjoying this, aren't they?", he asked as he turned around so you could see them, "I bet your mum will have a video of this within the next 24 hours", you said as you watched Sabine with her phone pointed at you, "But if you're not enjoying this we can stop", Mick offered, looking at your face for any sign of discomfort, "I'm good, I'm good, it's always nice being in your embrace, and you're quite good too", you smiled as Mick pecked a kiss on your lips, Gary letting out a big whistle followed by an enthusiastic "yeah, Mick!" that got everyone's attention on you two if they hadn't already been watching you, "you're not too bad yourself, darling, I think we make a fine pair", he said smiling at you before you nestled your head back in his chest, the slow rhythm of the music and his heartbeat comforting you.

The finishing position on the race had been less than ideal, with Mick starting in the first ten places on the grid and, after a few risky strategies and complicated pit stops, he ended up in the no points area, the frustration on his voice clear as you heard him through the radio on your headphones all while keeping a up lifting speech as he tahmked the team. As soon as Mick arrived back in the garage, the team helped him unbuckle the belts as he got out of the car, helmet and balaclava discarded on the table before he plucked the gloves away from his hands, looking at you with a small smile you replied back, wanting nothing more than to cradle him in your arms as you whispered how proud you were of him, your shyness around cameras, as well as your highly valued privacy, preventing you from doing so.

Mick's grandparents had invited Gina, Mick and you to have dinner at their house on a Monday after they got back from a race. You hadn't been able to go with them as work had kept you for the weekend on an important meeting and, since you left the house early that morning, you had yet to see Mick from when he arrived back home just before lunchtime. So the usual excitement you felt when driving to a family dinner was heightened today, your fingers drumming excitedly on the steering wheel as you put your blinker on, entering the gate and parking your car beside Gina's. Knocking on the door, you were greeted by Elisabeth, Mick's grandmother, her arms wide open as she brought you into a hug, "Y/N, dear, so happy you're here! Rolf, come and greet Y/N!", she called for her husband, "Y/N, so glad you could join us! I bet work has been keeping you busy, but glad you could make some time for us", he said as he hugged you back, smiling sweetly. Just beside them there was an impatient Mick with a lovely smile on his face as his arms remained crossed, waiting for his time to finally greet his girlfriend after not having had her company for the weekend for more than videocalls and messages, hell, since when did his grandparents prefer you to him? He was sure he did not have this reception when he got inside half an hour before. "So sorry I'm late, I tried to wrap things up as quickly as I could, but then HR needed me to sign some papers and that made me loose more time", you explained your small delay, "No worries darling, the oven seems to be a bit lazy today, so the food only finished cooking now. Get comfortable darling, behave like it's your own house, please. And maybe go and greet that pouty and sulky mouse over there", Elisabeth giggled at her grandson's antics. Removing your shoes and coat and setting them aside, you made your way to your boyfriend, "You know you're very cute when you're all pouty right? Nothing about this face scares anyone", you explained as you placed a kiss on each of his cheeks before kissing the tip of his nose and finally reaching his lips for a much needed proper kiss, "it is still astonishing to me that after four years, you're all still lovey dovey about eachother", Gina fake gagged as she greeted you with a hug, "I missed you this weekend, and I think some of the team too, you really do bring a calming vibe to this one when you're around, and Angie too, bless her, I think she was always expecting that you were walking through the door", she said and your heart squeezed a bit at her admissions. Going back to Mick, you grabbed his hands and circled them around you neck as you looked up at him, "speaking of, where is our four-legged child?", you asked Mick, "She was a bit tired from all the travelling so I gave her some food before we left the house and last time I checked the security system's camera she was asleep in her bed. But it's true, we missed you a lot schatz", he replied befofe he pressed a kiss on your forehead, "again, gross", you heard Gina mumble before her grandmother playfully scolded her.

Waiting in his driver's room for Mick to get back from his media duties, your head snapped to the door when it opened, revealing Mick's blue cap as you got up, hugging him once as he closed the door with his foot, "I'm always going to be proud of you, no matter what", you whispered as you kissed his jaw. Mick enjoyed the feel of your arms around his until he announced that he was heading for a shower and then you'd make your way to the hotel, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he grabbed his towell.

Arriving at the hotel room, Mick laid his things on the chair by the living room area as you got the pillows on the bed ready for a much needed cuddle session, and possibly a nap for Mick, noticing how his body was revealing some tired signs. Calling your boyfriend's name, you opened your arms as you sat against the pillows, him immediately getting what you wanted to do and a smile on his face as he crawled to you, laying his head on your boobs, "I love your boobs so much, best place in the world, they're so comfy", he said in the least sexual way possible, just happy and content to finally be around you without the worry of someone filming or walking in the shared affections. Giggling softly, your lips landed on top of Mick's head placing a few kisses there before your fingers started threading to the now longer hair, running your fingers in hope to soothe him a bit. "I'm always going to be proud of you no matter what happens, I hope you know that. You'll always be the best for me, because I know how hard you work, day in and day out, I know how much you care about this and one day it will come, I'm sure of it, and I can only hope I'll see it first hand and celebrate it with you", you said, noticing how his eyes kept trying to close, "Have a little nap while I order some room service, bubs, I'll be right here with food when you wake up", you chuckled as your fingers lulled him to sleep, "I don't care too much about the food, I only care about you", Mick said as he finally allowed his body to succumb to sleep.

#mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher fic #mick schumacher fluff #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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