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xxxdreamscapexxx · 22 days

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Sacrifices series: Chapter 3: Face to face with a monster

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word count: 8k

Series Summary: After closing the Darkhold, Wanda struggled to find her place in the word. Until she met you that is. And in you, she found hope. But the past has a way of coming back and she’s faced with an impossible choice once again. A choice that’s going to break her heart. Chapter summary: Finding the layer, doesn't mean she's captured the monster, who was terrorizing the city and Wanda needs to see you at least once, before she has to go back to her hunt, but it seems the sorcerer has plans of his own...

Warning: angst!; emotional trauma; Hurt - No Comfort ; Blood, human sacrifice, gory details of a mutilated body, dark magic... violence, possession, manipulation; That should be it, but in case I missed anything, please let me know. Also, Reader will be making a very small appearance in this chapter, but she has a significant role to play in the future. Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3

Wanda dropped the piles of books in her trunk, closing it with a loud thud as she looked at the building in the distance. She could see agents coming in and out, carrying objects, while others were escorting people out. Even from afar, she could see those people were scared, worried where they’ll live next, how they’ll afford it. They held their children close, protective, even in their fear. So brave. She knew what it was like to be displaced, to have your whole life ripped from you, to watch it all crumble down in an instant. She knew how much courage it took, to make the next step, and the one after that… She didn’t know how she’ll interview all these people tomorrow. She didn’t know if she’ll be able to carry the burden of their pain and grief as well. Yet, there was no one else to do it. Only she knew what to look for, what to ask… Only she knew how to get the information that even they didn’t know they could have.

The prospect of invading so many minds, of taking on so many lives filled her with pain. All she wanted was to curl in a ball, her head in your lap. She wanted to feel your hands run through her hair, soothing and soft. She wanted to feel you close once more, to have you fully wrapped around her, until she could forget that this ever happened. She wanted peace. She wanted what was stolen from her. But she couldn’t have any of it back, until she defeats this monster first… Even after being in his apartment, after coming so close to him, she had no idea how to find him. He had left no clues as to his next move, or his plans. None that she could see. But the agents will go more thoroughly through his things and have a report for her by tomorrow morning. Perhaps they’ll find something. Until then, she was free to go home and rest. But the compound, with its grey walls felt nothing like the cozy home she had with you. Her room never felt as welcoming as the shared bedroom she had with you. It was all so empty without you. She found no joy in cooking now, since she had no one to share her meals with. She found no joy in walks, since it always reminded her of the days she’d take you and Bella out to different parks to walk and play… Even her sitcoms brought little comfort. Yes, no one got hurt in them, it wasn’t that kind of show. But the real world was nothing like a sitcom. People got hurt every day, they were hungry and poor and lived on streets with nothing but the mercy of strangers to help them face the next day. There were so many in pain. When she remembered that, it was always so hard to fight back the inner voice that told her that she could fix it all. She was the Scarlet Witch after all. She was born to rule the world. It was her birthright. Her destiny. She could make sure that no one got hurt ever again, that no child was ever orphaned, no one ever had to leave their loved ones, no one had to get hurt. She could do that. Wanda could feel the magic rising within her, the raw power of chaos opening up doors for her that were closed to everyone else. She could do anything. She could win this fight with the snap of her fingers. She could erase evil from this world. And they would all thank her for it. Those poor people that she watched get evacuated. They would all be so grateful. They would worship her, just as they were meant to…

Wanda shook her head, blinking a few times, until her eyes focused once more. Red whisps of magic were swirling around her, her blackened fingers moving through the air. She was casting. Not that she knew what. But she knew she needed to get her emotions under control. Keeping the darkness at bay was much harder, when it promised everything she ever wanted. She could have Pietro back. Her boys. And her parents. She could win you back too. If that didn’t work, she could always make you forget she ever left… “No!” She shook her head in defiance. She knew better than to listen to those thoughts. She crawled her way back from an emotional hell, fighting such thoughts. She knew better than to trust them. With a final glance towards the grey building, that seemed to stand like a hungry giant over the people below, she got into her car and drove away. She was done for today. And now she could finally see you. She could finally drive back to your house, she could see you again, hear your voice… She could feel human again for a few minutes. The redhead drove slowly, her windows rolled down, so she could breathe in the fresh air. She needed to get the stench of that place out of her nose, out of her hair and her clothes. She felt dirty. And she almost felt bad for making her way to you, covered in such filth. Then again, it’s not like she was going to knock on your door. Then again… Why shouldn’t she? Why should she deny herself this one thing, this one kindness, when she has sacrificed so much already? What was to stop her from knocking? From walking in… Who could stand in her path, should she choose to pull you in her embrace. Who had the power to stop her? She could kiss you again. Taste you and feel you, like she’s been dreaming of. She could…

“No!” She almost screamed, hitting the breaks. It was just in time too, a pedestrian was crossing the street, standing frozen in fear of her approaching car. She was seconds away from hitting him. She almost didn’t stop. She had barely even seen him. It took the man a moment to get a hold of himself, before he ran the rest of the way to the other end of the street, looking back at her with fearful, yet angry eyes. Wanda couldn’t blame him. But she also couldn’t quite bring herself to care. She could tell that something was wrong. She wasn’t usually like this. Distracted, careless, cold. She didn’t have such dark thoughts either. Not usually. She was much better at controlling them. She studied calming techniques, meditation, she went through every enlightenment course she could find, looking for a way to keep herself in check, but it was especially hard this time. There was just this voice, in the back of her head, a low murmur that had found its way in and just wouldn’t leave her alone. How long has she been hearing it? This voice. Why was it trying to get her to come to you? Except… That’s not quite what it wanted. You were just a suggestion. A means to an end. A way for her to give in. Yes, that’s what it wanted. It wanted her to give in. Wanted her to unleash her powers. Wanted to set the Scarlet Witch free. It wanted her to use that magic inside. It wanted her to let all that chaos loose and never stop.

The honking of cars behind her startled Wanda out of her thoughts and into motion. She sped away from the spot with a heavy heart and she contemplated if she should even come see you tonight. It was dangerous in her state. It was almost reckless, tempting herself like that. Especially with how off she’d been feeling and acting. It would be a mistake… She was once again pulled from her thoughts, when she saw something strange out of the corner of her eye. She was driving past some neighbourhood, all the houses framing the road. But something was wrong. She could feel eyes on her. She could see old ladies in their kitchens, looking out the windows, mothers with strollers, not even looking at where they were going, too busy staring at her… Men, who openly followed her car, as she drove. And then something else. A man with eyes so black, there was no white left in them and a face so sunken in, it looked stolen from a cadaver. A man, who seemed to smile at her, as if seeing an old friend, before he turned away from the road and walked away. Wanda hit the brakes so hard, she almost hit her head on the steering wheel from the force. She felt shaken, like she had witnessed something important, something she should be better at naming. Like she was walking in the dark, her eyes closed, allowing herself to be led. She realized that this place was not her usual route to your house, that she’s never even been here. Just as she realized that whoever this man was, he knew to expect her. He had felt her presence here, known of her arrival, he was watching her, before his eyes ever fell upon her… But how? She pulled the car over and locked it, using her magic to seal the trunk, just to make sure that the books inside wouldn’t “disappear” while she was chasing whatever this was. She had to walk a little, to reach the spot she first saw him, and she looked around nervously to see where he might have went. The eyes of strangers followed every step she took, not even considering to hide their actions, yet none of them approached her. Wanda could almost smell that same sweet, yet repulsive smell she had first felt when she entered the building she was inspecting. The one where He used to live. It was faint, but unmistakable and a strange sense of longing washed over her. A desire to breathe in deeply. To let herself be intoxicated. The voice in her head salivated at the prospect. Hungry.

She decided to ignore it. Pushing back against the low whisper, that told her to give in. Instead she started to walk in the direction she saw him turn. Beyond the first street, the houses started to look poorer, the yards smaller, the windows covered. She could see dogs sometimes, uneasy and nervous, barking in warning, but never really getting close. They were scared. Just like the people who lived here. But scared of whom? The sorcerer? She couldn’t tell. As she walked, the voice in the back of her head, the one she knew to be the witch within, kept warning her. There was danger here. She could feel it. There was darkness too. And the eyes that followed her on the street, seemed to watch her here too. It made her feel surrounded on all sides.

“It’s a trap.” Her inner voice warned. She could feel herself tensing up, readying for a battle, all her senses on high alert. Her magic was just at the tip of her fingers, making her eyes glow that deep scarlet she knew so well, yet there was no one around. At this point she almost hoped someone would try to make a move. Give her an excuse to release all that pent up energy inside, yet no one did. Eventually the street came to a sudden end, a single entrance to a building signifying her only way forward. The door had a padlock and a rusty chain to keep out intruders, runes covering the links in protection. “Pathetic.” Wanda laughed bitterly, the words loud enough to be heard if someone was nearby. That same energy she felt swirling just beneath the surface suddenly came forth, pouring out of her in a burst and shooting forward. It crashed against the building, taking the whole door and parts of the surrounding wall with it, a loud bang ringing in her ears as it fell to the ground. Dust flew everywhere and she waited for it to settle, not wanting to breathe any of it in, before she finally walked forward. The ridiculous chain was still in takt, the runes glowing a dull grey. She laughed humourlessly once more, stepping inside the building and looking around, her steps echoing off the walls. “One chain?” She called out in a challenge. “I can take down the whole building.”

Her voice rang clearly in the large space, that seemed to have been a factory or a storage hanger once, but no response actually came. There was just silence, mixed with that sweet, yet repulsive smell again. “It’s too easy.” Her inner awareness warned, a low hiss in her ear that she felt an almost compulsive need to swat away, even if it was coming entirely from within. Met with no response, Wanda walked further inside, studying the building wearily. In all honesty, she was getting impatient with this whole charade. She didn’t want to be here, playing hide and seek with a psychopath. She wanted to be at the house with you. She wanted you in her arms again, wanted to have you in a tight embrace and breathe you in. Wanted, no craved your warmth against her stiffened, aching muscles. She explored the floor, impatiently walking around, being met with nothing but decay and ruin. There was nothing but old junk, dust and the unmistakable signs of rats and pigeons taking over the building and claiming it as their own. It looked abandoned. But she wouldn’t be here if it really was abandoned, would she? He wouldn’t try to put protective runes, if there wasn’t something important here.

With that in her mind, Wanda summoned her magic, using it to propel herself in the air. From above, Wanda could see that there was nothing special in this room and she moved quietly into the next, passing through a small hallway, only to find a man hunched over a pot, stirring the content inside. He had his back to her and for some reason she felt the need to sneak closer, even though it was impossible for him not to know she was here, considering all the noise she made. “Welcome, Miss Maximoff.” He said, without turning, “I’ve been expecting you.” The greeting startled Wanda for a moment, making her stop mid-flight, before she moved forward, flying over him and the strange liquid he stirred, murky and filled with bits and pieces of something she couldn’t see clearly enough to name. What she could recognize however was that distinct smell that she felt ever since she left his apartment. That repulsive, yet attractive smell that urged her to breathe it in deeply. That is, until she came closer and Wanda realized that the small objects Wanda was observing, were actually eyes.

“Isn’t it poetic? Stolen eyes, to grant you stolen sight!” He said with a small giggle. “That’s what you used that poor man’s eyes for?” Wanda asked, her voice shaking. She tried not to look at the ugly pot, filled with the murky liquid or to picture the man on the wall, with his empty sockets and a gaping hole in his chest. “Poor man?” The Sorcerer laughed. “He was hardly an innocent.” He hinted. “He liked to watch. In fact it’s all he wanted.” The man continued, words slow, as if explaining to a child. “Do you know how many women they forced, just so he could watch?” The Sorcerer asked, raising his hand, so he could make an obscene gesture, that imitated self-pleasure. It made Wanda sick to her stomach. “So you killed him?” She asked. “How noble.” Her voice was mocking and full of disgust. “I thought it was rather poetic in a way. He liked to watch. And thanks to him, I now see everything.” He said in a smooth voice. “Everything?” Wanda scoffed. “Aren’t you a bit full of yourself?” “I saw you coming.” He retorted in that same calm demeanour. “The all-powerful Scarlet Witch.” He said with a purr. “If you wanted to see me, there are far easier ways.” Wanda replied. She wanted to bait him, wanted to know his plans, while she still had him here. She knew that if it came to a battle, he may not survive. Once she unleashed her powers there was no telling what will happen and she needed to know why he did what he did. Needed to know if there was a greater power behind him. Truly, she needed to know why he did all these terrible acts. Needed to know if he was the monster that he was presenting himself to be. “But this one is rather effective.” He smiled at her. “I saw you look into my apartment. Saw you take things that don’t belong to you.” He accused. “How did you see me there? I was alone.” Wanda narrowed her eyes. “All living things need to eat and drink, Miss Maximoff.” The man explained. “And once they do, they’re mine to use.” “That’s disgusting.” She spat, her hands balling into fists. “Oh, don’t play innocent now. You’ve studied magic. I believe one Agatha Harkness had a very impressive collection on the subject. You’ve read her books. You know there is always a price to be paid.” He spoke patiently, as if he could somehow convince her that he was right. “Well, perhaps not for you…” He trailed off. “With control over pure chaos, you don’t need to pay that price, do you? But the rest of us… We still have to follow the rules.” “Trust me, I’ve paid…” Wanda growled, the control over her emotions fraying. “I’ve lost more than you can imagine.” “Ah, yes, of course.” He nodded slowly. “You and I are kindred spirits in that regard.” “Never compare yourself to me.” Wanda spoke through gritted teeth, the urge to hurt him growing stronger. She could hardly hold herself back, desperate to end all this. She felt so tired.

“But it’s true.” He argued, raising his finger in the air, signalling for her to be patient. “I too lost my parents very young.” He began, taking a step closer to her. “And the world is rarely kind to orphans, Miss Maximoff. Had to go hungry, dressed in the rags others gave away to the orphanage. Had to go to school in them too. Other children are hardly kind to their peers.” He lowered his head for a moment, countless cruelties passing through his memory and flooding Wanda’s thoughts. “But I found an escape.” He continued. “I found that knowledge truly does give you power. I found my first real spell when I was 16. It was just a stupid trick. Turning sugar into salt.” He laughed humourlessly. “It was useless for more than a prank, but it opened my eyes. There was real magic in this world. I knew it now. I had the proof for it. My history teacher was stirring it right into her coffee! So I looked. Researched spells and grimoires, travelled on foot, or hitchhiked to chase down any lead for real magic wielders, looked for amulets and enchanted objects. I built my collection, knowing that one day, I’ll use it to make the world better!” He exclaimed, coming to the culmination of his little speech. “But then I found something better. I found the cult of Salvain. I thought it was nothing more than a cult to a non-existing God, but I went to the forest of perpetual silence, where his followers live. It wasn’t easy, trust me, but I made it there. Have you ever experienced mind-numbing nothingness, Miss Maximoff? Have you ever been in a place so quiet, that every sound is swallowed, to a point you can’t even scream, because nothing actually reaches your ears? It was horrible. I was lost in there for days, walking aimlessly and praying for death to mercifully take me. I was dehydrated, hungry, never met another soul… And just when I thought I would die, I heard him. I heard his voice.” He said with fire in his eyes, his face betraying real emotion for the first time. “He’s been speaking to me ever since. Helping me. Guiding me. I let him inside me and he saved me. He showed me the way to salvation and he’s going to save everyone.” He explained with what appeared to be genuine excitement and appreciation, his words hanging in the air for a long moment. “You’re actually insane…” Wanda finally spoke, her head tilting to the side. “Oh, but I’m not.” The sorcerer said with a grin. “He’s here.” He said, closing his eyes in bliss. “He knows you.” He whispered teasingly, stepping closer still. He was just a few feet away now, giving Wanda a chance to take a closer look.

Underneath the grey skin and sunken eyes, underneath the painfully thin, bony face, he was actually a young man. So young. More a boy, than a sorcerer and a monster. But there was very little of him left. She could see the corruption of dark magic spreading over him like a disease. It was probably what ate away at his mind. “Don’t you want to speak to him, Miss Maximoff?” He asked, his big eyes fixing her in a predatory way. “He’s been waiting to speak to you, you know.” “How about this…” Wanda started. “You surrender yourself quietly, and I’ll talk to him.” She suggested, hoping to be able to contain him without having to hurt him. Despite his seemingly docile appearance, he had managed to kill several people already. She couldn’t be sure what he was actually capable of. “I won’t resist.” He told her gently, hands raising in the air in a gesture of surrender. “You shouldn’t resist either. Can’t you feel him calling you? He’s been talking to you for a while now.” Wanda thought of saying something sassy in return, but the words died down in her throat, before she could utter them. The sorcerer leaped forward, grasping her head on either side, his long, bony fingers digging into her skin. “Just listen!” He hissed, before a blast of red magic pushed him away from her and he fell to the ground. She heard him gasp from the impact, his right hand clutching his side painfully, but when she looked at his face, he looked amused. “He told me you wouldn’t just hear us out.” The sorcerer said bitterly. “But thankfully, Salvain has a solution for everything.” He giggled “What did you do?” Wanda growled, her teeth bared. This was the confession she was waiting for. His next sacrifice, his next victim, his plans. Once he gave those away, she could be done with all this. “You don’t feel it yet?” He asked with a raised brow. “You have a strong mind. Pushing him away all this time. But even you can’t resist him forever.” “What are you talking about?” She asked, feeling a bit dizzy as a wave of that horrible smell hit her nostrils again and she had to put her hand to her mouth and nose just so she wouldn’t gag. Instead of a response, he waited, circling her now, though he kept a safe distance. His watchful eyes seemed to never leave her and she was once again feeling dizzy from the way he circled her. It was almost like vertigo, but it came with the unpleasant return of that nagging voice in her head, that wanted to seduce her. She could stop all this right now. She could just blast him with her magic. He had attacked her once, had he not? She could claim his death on self-defence and leave all of this behind. No one had to know what happened. There were no witnesses, no cameras…

No! She had to shake the thought away. This wasn’t her way. She could easily immobilize him and let S.H.I.E.L.D deal with him. She didn’t need to hurt him. She was not going to become a killer. But the Scarlet Witch is a killer, a thought flashed through Wanda’s mind. And even though it seemed like it came from within, even though it had her voice, she finally realized that it wasn’t. There was a presence in the back of her mind, a voice that whispered in her ear, disrupting her thoughts. “Now you get it.” The sorcerer smiled, smug and self-satisfied. “How are you doing that?” Wanda hissed at him, fighting the urge to slap his smile away. She could easily knock him down. He seemed so weak, so fragile… It would be so easy to just… Wanda shook the thoughts away again, starting to get angry at this stupid game they were playing. “I’m not doing anything.” The man in front of her responded. “I have no power to influence you.” He told her softly. “Ordinary humans are easy, but you…” He shook his head. “You’re strong. I had to find a way to help you hear Him. ” “What did you do?” Wanda asked again, her voice shaking so much it sounded like a growl. She was losing her patience. Each second that passed between them felt like an eternity, fraying her nerves. Why not just be done with him? Whatever he planned would simply be left unfinished if he were to die… No, he could have accomplices, acolytes… She couldn’t afford to leave this unfinished. Not when so much was at stake. “I only helped you open your mind to him. That’s all.” He said with a surprisingly gentle voice. “I’m only helping you see. That’s what he wants as well. For you to see the good he can do in this world.” He said with a look of longing in his eyes. “He can do anything. Give you anything. You just have to let him come through…”

As the sorcerer spoke, Wanda’s vision slowly started to blur. The dizzy feeling she’d been fighting, suddenly overtook her and she felt like she was fainting. Except that wasn’t quite it either. It was more like she was being pulled underwater, supressed so deep within herself that she no longer felt one with her body. She was floating within her subconsciousness, a passenger in her own body. Her clothes were slowly changing, her comfortable pants and soft sweater that she wore suddenly fading and being replaced by her old suit. The boots and tights came first, her magic working its way up, red swirling around her and weaving the tight corset into place, her old cape flowing down her shoulders… Magic weaved itself in the places where the suit had torn, glowing… Then came her crown. It glowed in the same scarlet as her magic, surrounding her in unnatural light that looked both terrifying and regal. She’d never seen herself like that. She always felt like Wanda. But this was the Scarlet Witch. This is the destiny she kept rejecting.

“Why fight it, Wanda? This is who you were meant to be.” A voice creeped up on her, ringing all around her. She turned frantically to look for the source, but there was no one. The sorcerer was still in his spot, staring in awe of her, a deeply unsettling smile on his face. “Show yourself.” She challenged, sounding more scared than she liked, hoping to draw out the voice. “If you want to see me, you’ll have to invite me into your world.” Salvain said in a low voice. “Invite you, huh? So you need someone to let you through.” Wanda retorted, feeling some of her confidence return. Whatever entity this was, he couldn’t move into the world on his own. “Not just anyone, Wanda. I need you. Gorden over there was a good servant. He did as he was told, performed the rituals and cast the spells, but he’s not strong enough. His body is failing. He can’t pierce the veil and let me in.” The voice explained in a monotonous tone, as if talking about the weather and not a life. “But you can.” He said, a trace of a smile in his tone. A trace of urgency. “And what makes you think I will?” Wanda lifted her chin defiantly, her lips trembling in barely-contained anger. “Because I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted, Wanda. I can bring back all your friends. I can bring back Vision… You can have your brother back! Your parents too. Your boys! I can make it so they never, ever died. I can make sure they never do again.” He said seductively, his voice bouncing around her skull with all the weight of his promises.

“I tried that!” Wanda hissed, her fists balling at the memory of Westview. “It doesn’t work. It’s not real.” She shook her head. “As powerful as you are, Scarlet Witch, you’ll always need your magic to sustain them. But I… Once I’m in this world, I can bring them back, make them real… I can make anything you want real… You can have your whole family back. I can give you back Vision. Or Y/N. Or even both?” He chuckled. “Both of them, so willing and loving… You’ll want for nothing, Wanda.” “No!” Wanda growled, but to her surprise, her body moved. Her fingers glowed, whisps of magic swirling around them slowly. “It seems your counterpart disagrees.” Salvain purred. “No! You can’t do that!” Wanda’s eyes widened, filled with panic. “I’m not doing anything.” He chimed in, amused. “You are doing this.” He explained. “It’s ok, Wanda. I understand. Aren’t you tired? Aren’t you so utterly exhausted of having to fight for a modicum of peace? For a place in the world? For even a crumb of love… Aren’t you angry? At all the injustice in this world? At the people who turn a blind eye to suffering, to poverty, to strife? You can make it stop! You’ve always had the power to stop it. You can rule this world… But you don’t want that, do you Wanda? I understand… I can help…” “Stop it!” Wanda screamed, her voice bouncing around in her head. She could see more of her magic seeping out of her, now a hurricane of red that swirled around her, building and waiting to be unleashed. The sorcerer, Gorden, was on his knees, awe-stricken at the feet of the Scarlet Witch. His bony face looked even more sickly in the red glow of her power, yet he seemed so at peace. “It’s too late now, Wanda.” Salvain sounded almost smug. “It has already started. Gorden laid the path, now you will open the door and soon… I will walk in the world…” Wanda listened to his words, the terror inside her building at the prospect of what was coming. She had never heard of this entity, had no idea of his powers and if he could truly influence reality the way that he claimed. She hardly knew if that voice in her head was real or if this was all in her head and she was about to unleash her powers upon the world and destroy it. She only knew that she needed to regain her composure and her control over herself if she wanted to stand a chance against him. She focused her thoughts, ignoring his voice and the endless tirade that served no other purpose than to hurt her further and she tried to gain back some of her control, but every time she did, she felt herself being pushed away, her path blocked by an invisible force.

“It’s useless Wanda. There’s nowhere to go…” He chimed in, making her eyes snap open in annoyance. Her power was building, crackling in the air around her like a storm, the pressure in the room growing. If she unleashed that, she would rupture the veil between worlds, creating a passage for him and God only knows what else and she wouldn’t be able to stop any of it. “You’re not in control anymore.” He reminded gleefully. The words bounced around Wanda’s head, heavy and mocking in their finality. The magic that swirled around her now rose to filling the whole warehouse, thundering and waiting to be unleashed. It was almost time and she wouldn’t be able to stop it. She would once again fail. She would fail to protect you, to protect all the innocent people of this world, she would fail herself and her legacy… She would once again be a monster. With that realization Wanda broke down, falling to her knees and letting the tears that she’d been holding back for days finally fall freely. “I’m sorry…” She sobbed, her head bowing down in defeat. “Don’t be sorry, Wanda. You’re doing exactly what you were meant to.” Salvain said with a surprisingly gentle voice, as if talking to a child. “I wasn’t talking to you!” Wanda shouted suddenly, looking up. The Scarlet Witch was now floating, the magic and particles of dust swirling around her. She was getting ready to unleash it all. “I’m sorry I rejected you. I’m sorry I pushed you down and treated you like a disease to be cured. I’m sorry, that I pretended like you weren’t here all this time…” Her words died down into sobs, as she looked through her own eyes, a prisoner of her body now taken over by another. “I’m sorry I made you feel like this all this time.” She whispered. Wanda shook with sobs, her heart beating wildly in her chest, her thoughts a frantic mess that she could hardly distinguish anymore. She thought this would be the end. And selfishly, she regretted that she’ll spend it away from you, when suddenly a red glow illuminated her face and a gentle hand rested under her chin, urging her to look up.

There she was. The Scarlet Witch, in all her glory, was standing above her, her features unreadable. Salvain’s voice had quieted down, pushed aside by the presence of the witch. “I’m so sorry.” Wanda whispered again, her face wet with tears. She wasn’t sure how this moment was possible, both of them face to face, as her body continued to float into the air, magic crackling and threatening to be unleashed at any second, but as she looked at the face of the Scarlet Witch, she didn’t care. “I should have never neglected you.” She whispered at the witch, her green eyes full of regret. “It’s not just me you were hurting.” The witch said gently, her tone a stark contrast to her stronger, more defined features. “This rift between us, hurts us both. We were never meant to be separate. You and I are one, Wanda. The divide leaves vulnerable.” She explained, her strong hands helping Wanda to her feet. “We can only do this together.” “But…” Wanda looked confused. She was still in the air, or her body was, summoning more magic, the walls of the warehouse groining with the force of it. “We are meant to rule the world, Wanda. It is our destiny.” The witch reminded seriously. “Do you really think I’ll give away our throne?” She tilted her head, a sly smile starting to play on her lips. “So you have a plan.” Wanda questioned, an eyebrow rising. “No… We have a plan.” The witch corrected, her smile growing. She offered Wanda one of her hands, their palms touching. The feeling was electrifying. Wanda felt a surge of power pass through her, making her gasp. Than the Scarlet witch moved closer, their faces so close together, their noses almost touching and a warmth spread over her, a kind of relief that made her muscles relax. She allowed the witch even closer, her counterparts free hand wrapping around her waist in a gentle, confident motion. The softness in the other woman startled Wanda. She always saw the witch as ruthless and merciless… Thought of her rough and unforgiving. She always resented her for it as well. “Those were the traits you needed.” The witch suddenly said, a knowing look in her eyes, when she saw Wanda’s confused expression. “That’s not all that I am.” She said, her eyes softening once more.

She guided Wanda even closer, their bodies making contact and making Wanda shiver. The witch’s presence gave her this inexplicable sense of surety. Then calmness. And with it, a deep sense of belonging. And then a longing for more. Her hands wrapped around the witch’s shoulders, as if they were partners in a dance, strangely close and intimate in the bubble of privacy the Scarlet Witch had made within their mind. Their breathing synched together, their eyes locked and for a moment Wanda had the strangest urge to kiss the other woman, to run her hands through her hair and down her back and she felt that desire reflected in the features so identical to hers. On instinct she closed her eyes, lips parting slowly as she leaned in, their foreheads touching for a brief moment, before she tried leaning in even further, only to find the space empty. Wanda opened her eyes to find herself alone and she blinked a few times, questioning if this wasn’t just a figment of her imagination, before she felt that same sense of surety wash over her, her mind opening up and expanding to accept the witch within herself and allow her to merge, just as they were always meant to. Her mind’s eye suddenly opened to the universe as the knowledge and power of the Scarlet Witch bled into her, connecting them, until they were whole. As they merged, Wanda felt more powerful, more alive, more confident than she ever had been in her life. She could finally sense the real, raw strength of chaos magic and she opened her eyes to find herself back into her body, the center of a hurricane of magic that swirled around her and threatened to tear down the whole building.

Without wasting too much time, she focussed her strength, guiding that magic into a single point in the floor, feeling the vail between our world and the next start to bend under her strength. The ground shook and groaned, but gave way to her will, a portal starting to open, rimmed in scarlet. Beneath her Gorden had recovered from his stupor, stopped staring at her in awe and moved closer to the portal that formed, arms open in welcome to the God he had been serving all this time. Wanda sensed the approach of something powerful, something monstrous, as it neared the portal she was holding open and she braced herself for the moment he would pass. He paused some distance from the portal, the world on the other end black and filled with nothingness, before he surged through it. He passed smoothly, landing on the dirty floor of the warehouse, the portal closing shut behind him. Dazed by the strength the journey had taken, he didn’t seem to notice the trap of the Scarlet Witch and started to stand, feeling carried by weak, almost trembling legs. He looked around, winded, breathless, his eyes landing on Wanda, who used her powers to land on the floor softly, her red eyes staring at him. “You made the right choice, Wanda.” He started to say, his voice coming out rough and distorted. It sounded nothing like him, he realized and with a distrustful gaze, started to look down at himself.

That’s when he saw it. The skinny legs, frail frame, bony fingers connected to dry, vainy hands… And a whisper… Except this time it wasn’t the distant voice of a far-away acolyte, but a voice inside his own head. The voice of Gorden Shaw… Salvain felt himself smothered in Gordon’s body, so weak, so frail… A mortal shell too fragile to contain his strength. He had but a fraction of his abilities here and he wanted to free himself from the uncomfortable confines this body provided, but he seemed unable to leave, rattling inside his cage like a wild animal, before his eyes landed once again on Wanda. “How dare you!?” Salvain roared, realization painting Gorden’s bony face. “Release me, at once!” He demanded, his voice a growl. “I’m not holding you.” Wanda smirked. “You cannot exist in this realm without a body and yours didn’t make the trip… I’m afraid you and Gordon will have to share.” “You tricked me!” He exclaimed, enraged. “I did nothing of the sort.” Wanda retorted calmly. “Creating a passage isn’t easy and the veil has many layers. I lifted enough for your consciousness to pass through, but your body… Alas, that was left behind.” Wanda explained, summoning her magic, so she could show Salvain the image of his abandoned body, a mindless heap on the ground where he had passed through the portal. “If you don’t return back to it soon, I’m afraid it would die…” Wanda said with a mocking pout on her lips, the whisps of her magic fading. “You foolish girl!” Salvain growled, low and dangerous, his hands balling into fists. “You should have done this the easy way.” He snarled at her. Before Wanda could realize what he meant, a ball of energy formed into Gorden’s hand, now Salvain’s, and it shot toward her, barely giving her time to block, before it hit her straight in the chest. Another followed, than another, magic raining down on her as he gave her no time to do much more than protect herself from his attack. He groaned and grunted with the effort of it, breathing shallow. “If you would not welcome me, Scarlet Witch, you will fear me!” He exclaimed, sending more balls of energy her way, before he used his abilities to lift her off her feet and fling her across the room. Wanda tried to cushion her landing against a wall, but still groaned when she fell on the floor, feeling several bruises form on her knees, but she pushed herself to stand upright, summoning her own powers and throwing a few energy blasts his way. He blocked them, teeth bared, grunting from the unfamiliar feeling of being inside another’s body. In retaliation he looked around, lifting pieces of metal, wood and brick into the air and sending them flying toward Wanda, who tried to dodge them, but hissed when a sharp nail flew passed her, tearing the flesh in her forearm.

“Aren’t you tired of this charade, Wanda?” He asked with a note of challenge. “Pretending to care about all those ridiculous mortals out there? Pretending to be moral, when I know what’s inside you. You wanted to kill Gorden. You want to kill him still. Be done with all this, so you can walk away and find your little girlfriend. That’s what you really want, isn’t it? Why not just go do that? Or maybe I’ll go find her, once I’m done with you. Show her some real horrors.” He smiled, crooked and ugly. The mention of you and the clear threat he made had Wanda’s blood boiling. Gordon’s features, if sickly before, had now turned wild and monstrous, his eyes bloodshot, his mouth wet, like a rabid animal, cheeks even more hollow now. Salvain’s presence and the energy it took to sustain him, as well as the magic he used to fight Wanda clearly took their toll and the thought of this thing making its way to you made her sick to her stomach. “I would never let that happen!” She spat, gathering her strength and summoning her magic. She levitated in the air, the scarlet whisps of her magic surrounding her once more as she rose higher and higher, her form almost reaching the ceiling, the ground once again trembling, as she made it all crash down.

She watched the rubble start to fall, the ceiling and walls of the warehouse collapsing, chunks of concrete and metal piling over one another, a cloud of dust and a thundering crash sounding around her as she watched Gorden’s body disappear from view. A part of her regretted the unfortunate end of his life. A part of her recognized his suffering and the inner turmoil he must have felt. Another part of her felt glad. Felt relieved he was gone… Or at least she thought he was. Very few could survive the collapse of a building. But S.H.I.E.L.D would have to confirm that. She saw their black cars from the air even now, saw a few helicopters heading in her direction as well, some government, but some of it was the press. Of course, reporters would want to capture this, even if they weren’t sure what they were filming. It would be golden none the less. Even she knew that. After all, the Scarlet Witch was hovering in the air, a collapsed building on the ground… She’d be on the news and the first page of every newspaper and magazine for weeks! Wanda was about to float down, try to give them less of a show, when a sudden rumble sounded from the rubble and a deep feeling of dread settled over her. An unnerving thought crept its way to her, causing a shiver to pass through her body. The confirmation of her fear came in the form of a chunk of concreate that flew towards her head and narrowly missed her. But it wasn’t what scared her most. What she feared came after. In the center of the ruined warehouse stood Salvain, his arms outstretched as more rubble started to float in the air. He seemed to be taking the whole building, forming a hurricane of dust, bricks, metal and wood, as well as anything left inside. And when that was all gone, he started to tear pieces of earth and rock too. “You should have walked away, little witch.” He shouted over the sound of wind, releasing his hold on the flying objects and hurling them in the air. Some were aimed at Wanda, but some flew astray, passing close to the helicopters that now hovered over the scene as well and it took everything in her to try and stop them all, a magical barrier forming in front of her and the nearby helicopters, but she still saw pieces of rubble falling to the ground, scaring curious onlookers, who had gathered to watch the fight, despite S.H.I.E.L.D’s efforts to keep people away.

In the chaos of it, she felt torn. There were so many innocents around. So many people who would get hurt, should she allow him to get the upper hand. The carnage seemed to amuse him, his lips outstretched into a sickly grin. She couldn’t protect everyone. Not like this. She could hear shouting, the cries of women and children as they ran from the falling debris, helicopters whirring around her… It was all too much. * * * With a flick of Wanda’s wrist, a wave of magic surged through the air and although your TV could hardly do it any justice, you could see that it was a powerful blast. A deafening silence came first, the panicked sounds of people fading into utter stillness. Then came a red glow, seemingly bursting from Wanda’s chest and expanding, dipping the whole world into a scarlet hew. You watched with bated breath, your eyes glued to the screen of your TV, your heart hammering in your chest. This was the first time you’d seen Wanda since she left, and the apparent danger she was in did very little to help your anxiety. You could recognize the old warehouse, not too far from where you lived and the thought that she was so close, yet so far, made it feel hard to breathe. Then came a third wave of magic. This one however was a dull grey. It shot through the air in a cluster, like the pellets of a shotgun and everything you saw, was the way they found their target, right in Wanda’s chest, before everything went dark.

#lesbian #writing #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch #sacrifices #magic

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tomakoshark · 1 year

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Man, I can't hold it in any longer. Every time this card pops up, I just have the strongest urge to LAY ON HIM.

His pose is literally so inviting. Like legs open, leaning back. I just want to lay in between his legs and nuzzle my face into his stomach while I hug him.

And I mean, man's got some handcuffs on, I can think of a few other things I could do while I'm there,,,,,,

Just imagine him laying like that often, casually and innocently, minding his own business. And then you just happen to come up, target insight.

Small Fic Below, Male Reader x Leviathan

Just some poorly written kissing and fluff, kind of suggestive

I would've made it spicier/spicy, but I don't think I'm good enough at writing to do that yet eheheh

And just … Oh how he sat there. So comfortable, in a position so inviting. In a way, looking so confident. Even his quick glare has you transfixed, rendering you with a want to do nothing more than to advance.

Stepping closer towards him, he shoots you another brief glance, too absorbed in his switch to properly acknowledge you. Encroaching further into his personal space, you finally plop down in front of him, startling the poor demon as he suddenly pauses his game. “Wha- MC! What are you-?” Before he could finish his question, you crawl a little closer, knees finding their way in the little spot between his legs. Your hands now on each side of him, trapping him in his place. “Ah- M-MC, I don’t know what normie tactic this is b-but- eh!?”

Putting the rest of your weight onto Levi, you nuzzle your face into his abdomen, too absorbed into the warmth of his body and just … how soft he is to care about his current state.

Which is panic. But, a good type of panic? Is it a good type of panic? Should he be happy about this?

He can’t help but feel his face get warmer, his heart beating out of his chest but … this is nice. Unsure about what to do next, or whether he should move, he stiffens further as he feels your arms snake their way around him. Finding purchase around his back, your hands pressed against him and, ah- are, are you tracing patterns on him?!

‘This is it Levi, this is the way you die, by the hands of a normie and in your own bedroom!’ Though, it is really nice. To have you to himself, your breath slow and steady, warm on his chest. The weight of your body, like one of the best blankets in the three realms. And the feeling of your fingers on his skin, which even through his shirt feels … heavenly. He’s calm now, breathing syncing up to yours, his muscles relaxing. And he can’t help but stare.

It was as if he was an angel all over again. Enamored by your presence alone, he finds his hand moving. Ever so slowly, cautious, not wanting to ruin this time with you. Shaking slightly, his fingertips finally reach your head, gently, as though you were the most fragile thing to exist. Lost in this moment, he let his hand wander along with his mind. Stroking your head softly, feeling your hair transition into skin as his fingers began to trace patterns of their own onto your neck. Traveling trails unknown to anyone but him, further onto your back.

That is until you move, picking your head up to rest your chin on him instead. Eyes locking with his. And your smile, small and gentle, pulling at his heartstrings and increasing his now growing anxiety.

‘You’ve done it now Levi, you idiot! Pathetic, stupid otaku, thinking you have a chance with him! Ah- he must think I’m a freak, I have to-’ “Ah- I’m sorry! I shouldn't have touched you! I-” “Levi, it’s okay.” You assure him, giving his waist a squeeze for comfort as a small chuckle escapes your lips. “Are you sure, I stopped paying attention. Ah- to my hand that is, you were just so comforting, a-and warm and … cozy. I-I …” Having pushed yourself off his chest, your face was now hovering only a few inches away from his, the smile on your face impossible to hide.

“M-MC.” “I liked it, Levi. You don’t have to apologize. I like feeling your touch, getting to lay on you, be with you. It’s nice.” His face was covered in a deep blush as his eyes found any other thing in the room to glance at. Meeting your gaze, right now, he might combust. “Levi?” ‘Oh shit.’ Your eyes locked again, the call of his name drawing him back to you. And he can feel it, his heart beating faster, his hands becoming clammier. “You enjoyed yourself didn’t you?” ‘Fuck.’ “Of course I did, th-though not in a weird way, or anything, just-” ‘You’re losing it Levi, control yourself for fucks sake!’

Closing his eyes he took a deep breath to ground himself before meeting your stare. Determination filling his eyes. “I liked touching you- ah I mean, holding you! I just, I don't want to make you uncomfortable…” Slipping a hand up to caress his face, skin warm against your fingertips, you give him another smile. Same as the last but serene, enough to put him at ease. “You’re not going to make me uncomfortable, though I appreciate it. For a demon you have a soft heart…”

You slowly inch closer to him, at least he thinks you do. His chest is getting tighter, however, he’s just as calm again as he was earlier. Eyes flickering from yours to your lips and back once more, the doubt in his mind leaving as quick as it entered. Your lips were soft, softer than he could have imagined. Eyes closed, softly caressing each other's faces, he felt as though he could stay there forever. You and him, sharing this moment throughout time and space, nothing getting in the way, nothing stopping you two from being together. He’d like that, and so would you, but good things must always end. Of course only to begin again, as he chases your lips, stealing as much as he can while you pull away.

And even as you stare into each other’s eyes, breathing regulating and the moment fleeting, he can’t help but feel as though it’s still just the two of you in existence. “MC?” “Mhm?” “Could we … Will you stay here? With me?” You take in the sight before you. Levi, with blown out eyes and cheeks as red as a sunburn. A longing look on his face hopeful for your answer. For something more. Confidence seemingly radiating out from him, compared to his usual self, he appears bold. Still cautious, but bold. It’s a nice look on him.

“Of course I’ll stay.” You lean down and give him another kiss, savoring the way his lips mold to yours, moving in time together like a dance. Pulling away again you hear a huff of slight annoyance coming from the demon below. You can’t help but smirk. “We can continue if you want. I mean with the cuddling, unless you want to-ah!” And with one fell swoop he rolled the two of you over, an embarrassed expression on his face. Slight worry and longing knitted into his eyebrows as he scanned your features. He wanted to make sure he was right, that you wanted him too. “I want to continue, more than cuddling …”

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 1 year

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chapter xvi - gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 4,000+

masterlist

Eris marched to Y/N. His eyes raced across her, noting all the injuries she suffered. Her heartbeat was weak, barely audible to his fae ears.

Azriel watched him with closely, prepared to guard and protect Y/N’s helpless body from Eris’ new and unpredictable power.

He remembered when Rhysand had gained his High Lord capacity. The new strength was both intoxicating and terrifying. It took Rhys time to get a hold on it, to control it.

Furthermore, Azriel didn’t trust Eris like he had trusted Rhysand.

“Give her to me,” Eris growled, only looking at Y/N’s face and not even bothering to acknowledge the shadowsinger.

“I am not so sure I should,” Azriel countered coolly, his hold over Y/N tightening.

Eris finally looked into his hazel eyes, glaring into them. “I would never hurt her, Shadowsinger. I swore allegiance to your High Lord to keep her safe. She needs a healer – and quick."

And without waiting for a response, Eris scooped Y/N into his arms, fully intending to fight Azriel if he tried to stop him.

Now that his mate was in his grasp, Eris whipped around to find his mother. But she was already standing a few feet behind him when he sought her out.

“Go," Leonora urged him. "Take her to the healer. Lucien and I will take care of things here.”

She looked around them at what was left of Beron’s loyalists. They were either dead or had surrendered. Nesta, Cassian, Jurian, and Vassa guarded them with weapons at the ready.

Eris nodded gratefully and rushed Y/N to the royal healer.

–🍁–🍁–🍁–

Even before Y/N fully came to, she knew that she wasn’t in Night Court.

For one, there was the smell: cedar wood, amber, rain, and very subtle hints of both pumpkin and apple. It surrounded her. Then there was the chill, it was different than the Night Court. Someone had clearly left a window or two open. And the cold was refreshing, like a relief after too long and too hot of a summer in the mortal lands. It felt like a chill that could cure the human body and soul.

Y/N’s eyes finally found the strength to flutter open.

She looked around to find she was indeed still in Autumn Court.

And she was laying in a canopy bed grander even than the one she had been given in the Night Court. The detailing on the woodwork was impossible to overlook.

It was lovely and cozy, not at all what she would’ve imagined the dreaded Forest House of Autumn Court would look like. She had expected everything to be red – red like blood – unsettling and harsh. But there was soft browns everywhere, and an overall rustic warmth to the place.

It wasn’t until Y/N looked on the other side of the room that she started to believe she wasn’t just sleeping in a random guest room of a grand estate.

There was a coffee table with a pile of books and an old cup of tea, half sipped. As well as some papers written on, with a discarded quill sitting on top of them all. The candle and roaring fire beyond made it even cozier.

Y/N glanced down to see that her injuries had been tended to and someone had changed her out of the soaking wet underdress that had exposed her to the entire Autumn Court. Beron had made sure to humiliate her, she was honestly surprised he hadn’t stripped her completely naked to make his point.

Now she wore a nightgown with decorative lace and silk in the Autumn Court's colors. It wasn’t very modest – but yet again Night Court seemed the least concerned with modesty compared to the other Prythian Courts – besides perhaps Summer.

Y/N slowly sat up in bed, making sure to be careful of an lingering injuries. But she felt refreshed and healthy.

Beron must be dead. Surely.

If she were alive and put in such a lovely bedroom, Eris must have won the battle.

Come to think of it, Y/N was struggling with remembering the details of the fight. There was pain and fire and blood. But she couldn’t seem to find the last thing that happened to her before she fell into a cloud of darkness.

Y/N found a thick shawl hanging over a chair next to the bed. Almost as if someone knew she would want to cover herself before going anywhere.

She wrapped it around herself and searched the room for something she could use as a weapon.

Right about now Y/N really missed the resourcefulness of having a sentient home like the House of Wind, who could just drop anything she politely asked for.

Y/N smiled with relief when she found a dagger similar to the one Eris had gifted her. It had been slightly hidden in a drawer of one of the nightstands.

She didn’t bother keeping it sheathed, letting the deadly blade gleam.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N gathered her courage before throwing the door open to see what would be waiting for her on the other side.

“Plan on stabbing me, do you?”

“Lucien?” Y/N gasped.

The redheaded male was sitting on the ground across from her bedroom, legs crossed, calmly reading a book. He hadn’t even looked up from it when she’d emerged.

“I was wondering when you would finally sneak out of that bedroom,” Lucien sighed as he finally looked up at her.

Y/N looked at him wearily.

The last few days had been harrowing and she wasn’t sure where she stood with others of these fae. They weren’t her friends any longer. But she wasn’t sure if they were quite her enemies either.

Lucien stood. “Everyone figured you would be the most comfortable with me being the one guarding your bedroom.”

“Everyone?” Y/N asked with a scowl.

He smiled. “Well…Eris.”

“So…So Beron is…d-dead?”

Lucien’s smile dropped as he heard the fear in her voice. He gave a slow nod. “I am sorry…for what he did to you, Y/N.”

But she wouldn’t meet his gaze.

Lucien cleared his throat. “If you are feeling well enough, I thought perhaps I could show you around the Forest House.”

Y/N just gave me a short nod.

Lucien looked relieved at her agreement. “I have a thing for babysitting mortal females that unexpectedly show up in fae courts.”

She could only assume he was referring to Feyre when she was in the Spring Court. But she didn’t bother asking for him to clarify.

“I wish to keep the dagger,” she added darkly, daring him to challenge her on it.

But Lucien raised a brow. “I never said anything about taking it from you. And if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t mind watching you stab a few of the courtiers still alive.”

And then he started walking, not looking back or waiting to see if she would follow.

Y/N quickly caught up with him, the dagger tightly gripped in her right hand.

——

“Only a small portion of the house is above ground – less than half. The rest is built into the stone beneath. Most of the house is hidden amongst the trees and rocks that rest above ground. The property stretches far – even the most trained eye cannot tell where the Forest House begins or ends.”

Y/N had been quietly listening to Lucien’s little tour for nearly three hours now. Now and then she would ask questions. But mostly she just let him talk.

Once again, the Forest House was nothing like she would have imagined. With Beron ruling this kingdom, she half-expected the place to be a dark and grimy dungeon. That evil man didn’t deserve to live in such a beautiful place.

How much had he tainted the Autumn Court with his wickedness?

“But Eris and mother prefer to remain above ground,” Lucien added, catching at how Y/N's body stiffened every time he mentioned Eris. “They need the sunshine.”

Lucien led her out onto a balcony that was surrounded by such a thick woods that it felt more like a tree house.

For a few minutes, the two of them just stared out at the view.

There were trees and hills as far as the eye could see. It looked like someplace one could easily hide or sneak through undetected. Yet Y/N had failed to do just that.

“How did they ever find me in this?” Y/N whispered, really only to herself.

But of course Lucien heard it.

“You would have never been able to pass through, Y/N. There are wards surrounding this court. Beron knew of everyone that ever entered his territory.”

Y/N’s head still bowed in shame.

Then she looked up at Lucien. “Is it hard for you…being back here?”

Lucien took a moment to look out at the trees and mountains before he answered, “I never thought I’d walk through these halls ever again.”

“They must hold terrible memories for you,” Y/N mumbled.

“Yes. But believe it or not, they also hold some good memories. Memories that I haven’t allowed myself to think of in quite some time. I guess that is how I coped with it: either remember everything or remember none of it. at all”

Y/N gave him a sympathetic look and a shy nod. Without realizing what she was doing, her hand reached across the railing and squeezed his own.

Lucien glanced down their hands with a small and shy smile.

“Come,” he said, nodding behind them at the house. “You must be starving. And I’m sure my brother has been pacing all day, waiting to see you for himself.”

“Why wasn’t he the one waiting outside my bedroom?”

Lucien froze and turned to look at her head-on. “Because Eris is convinced that you hate him – or you are scared of him. I can’t tell. But my brother figured he would be last person you would want to see when you awoke.”

“I do not fear him,” Y/N whispered quietly, yet with confidence.

“And you should not,” Lucien surprised her by responding. “I’ve never seen my brother care for someone’s safety the way he cares about yours. Not even my mother.”

With that, he began walking again, leading her through the giant sprawl.

It took almost twenty minutes just to get to the dining hall. Of course it was grand. Clearly, it was meant for hosting the entire court and visiting guests of the court.

And Y/N expected those guests to also be in attendance for this dinner. Or at least the surviving Vanserra family.

But it was only Eris at the other end of the giant hall, pacing with his back to them.

As soon as he heard their arrival though, his back went straight and he whipped around to the face them.

First, there was relief in his eyes at seeing Y/N safe and healed. But that was quickly hidden.

Y/N caught his usual cool and passive expression. But then she blinked and he tried to give her somewhat of a warm look. It seemed to take great effort from Eris to do so.

Lucien was the one to break the silence. “Have any other errands for me, brother?”

Eris glared at him. “I am just relieved you didn’t bore her to death.”

“I am more interesting company than you,” Lucien shot back. Then he turned to Y/N, “I shall leave you two to it then.”

“You’re leaving?” Y/N blurted out accidentally.

Lucien had an almost mischievous smirk as he nodded and took his leave.

Y/N expected that Eris would wait for her to approach him. After all, he was a High Lord now. And she was...Well, she was nothing.

But it was Eris who quickly lessened the distance between them. However, he stopped a longer distance away from her than necessary. Perhaps he really did believe she was scared of him.

Eris cleared his throat. “I assume eating here would be less comfortable. I requested a more…secluded place for us to dine.”

Y/N just watched him.

His tone was softer, gentler. Like he was speaking to a wild doe who would scurry away with any sudden movement.

Her silence seem to unsettle him, though.

“Unless, that is,” he quickly added, “you wish to dine alone in your rooms.”

His gaze shot down to the dagger that was still gripped in her hand.

He couldn't help but smirk. “I see you’ve grown fond of my dagger.”

His dagger? The rooms. The bedroom that seemed to belong to someone.

“They’re your rooms?” She asked without thinking.

Eris seemed caught off guard that she would figure it out. “Yes. I have wards surrounding them, stronger than anything else in the house. I conjured them myself. And there is nowhere safer in the Forest House.”

“B-But where are you sleeping? I do not wish to inconvenience you.”

Eris actually let out a laugh. “I assure you, it is not inconvenience. There is plenty of space in this dreadful place.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say next. But it still felt odd, her staying in his intimate quarters.

But then she couldn’t ignore how at home she felt waking up, how comfortable. She had just been attacked and practically tortured. Yet, she wouldn’t know it with how safe she had felt this morning.

Y/N took in a deep breath. “I would not mind having dinner with you…if I am able to ask you some questions.”

Eris bowed his head. “I believe that is a fair exchange.”

Then he gestured for her to walk ahead of him.

He led her through a few more hallways until they were outside on a terrace.

Plates and silverware were already set up, with candles lighting the small table.

Y/N turned to look at him, but Eris seemed to be trying to ignore her stare.

Clearly he had made a bit of an effort here. And Y/N was taken aback by it.

Who was Eris Vanserra now that Beron was dead and he was High Lord?

He gestured toward table, signaling that she should sit first.

Y/N reached for the one chair, and her face got hot when Eris moved behind to push in her chair for her. Then he moved into the corner across from her.

As soon as they were settled, Eris waved his hand over the table and food magically appeared before them. It took up every inch of the table. Then one set of wine glasses filled with light wine, while the other set filled with water.

“Neat trick,” Y/N pointed out quietly.

“Our cooks made it,” Eris explained, almost sounding bored. “I simply summon it.”

But Y/N wasn’t wasting any time. “When did you know?” She uttered suddenly.

Eris froze mid sip of drinking his wine.

“When did you figure out I was your…mate?”

Eris finished his sip, turning it into a gulp from the question. “As soon as I saw you.”

“But that is not normal, is it?” Y/N challenged.

“I will answer your questions if you eat,” Eris demanded as he gestured to her full plate. “You have been healing and sleeping. You have not eaten in nearly two days.”

Y/N sighed and did as he requested.

“I suppose it not normal,” Eris agreed to her earlier statement. “But stranger things have happened.”

“Why take me to Night Court? It was rather obvious they are not your friends. Why did you trust them, of all people?”

“I do not have friends,” he corrected her harshly. “I took you to the Night Court because it was the safest place for you. There was no other option. Perhaps I was…desperate.”

Y/N’s gaze grew cold and challenging. “And you promised an Autumn army you did yet have to make them agree?”

Eris ground his teeth. “Is that what they told you?”

“No one told me.”

The wind then, Eris surmised.

“Is that why you ran?” He asked quietly.

“I ran because they are not my friends. They only gave me shelter and protected me because they wanted your loyalty – even if that loyalty was forced. And, I guess, because Rhysand’s life depended on it.”

Eris shifted in his chair, having mental battle with himself in his head. “No, Rhysand and his inner circle are not my friends. But their love for you was no act. Even now, they have not left your side.”

Y/N’s head snapped up in surprise. “They’re still here?”

“Yes, unfortunately. Irritating that lot is. They linger here to assure that you are alright. But I told them they were not allowed to speak with you until you had expressed that it was your wish to do so.”

Y/N blinked at Eris’ consideration.

He seemed to be reading her face quite carefully.

“For what it is worth,” Eris began, “they kept my secret by my demand. I did not want you to know about the bond because I thought it would make things left complicated and keep you safer.”

“If I am being fair,” Y/N began. “I am not sure how I would’ve reacted, knowing from the start. I wouldn’t have understood any of it, really. I would’ve been…Well, I don’t know what I would’ve been.”

Eris nodded, appreciating the honesty.

A moment of silence passed.

He leaned toward her. “Were you running here, to me when you fled…or were you simply trying to return to the Mortal Lands?”

Y/N caught the hope in his eyes. She knew immediately what answer he sought.

But she couldn’t give it to him. Not without lying.

Her head bowed. “I was going to the Mortal Lands. I didn’t even realize I had made it to Autumn until the leaves turned red. And then it was too late to turn around.”

Eris leaned back in his chair, controlling his expression. Yet, somehow Y/N still knew that he was disappointed.

Y/N waited a moment before she cleared her throat. “May I…May I make a request?”

“Please,” Eris urged her.

I will give you anything. Anything you wish, he had to stop himself from adding.

“I require a horse. Perhaps two.”

Eris watched her carefully, his face unreadable.

“I had properly paid for a pair in Night Court,” Y/N quickly added when he didn’t instantly respond. “I never stole them. But obviously I lost them when I was…when your father apprehended me.”

“Y/N…” It was the first time he had said her name since she'd crossed into these borders. And she didn’t know why it made her heart flutter. “It is not safe for you in the Mortal Lands. It is not safe for you to be on your own at all. There are some who do not approve of my usurping. And you were exposed. Those who wish to hurt me will come after you.”

Y/N’s breathing was getting heavy as she tried to control her temper. “I didn’t ask to be your mate. I didn’t ask for any of this!”

She shot up from her chair, the table shaking from the movements. “Where are they? Take me to them.”

Eris didn’t need her to clarify. He knew she spoke of the Night Court.

His eyes went dark when he slowly stood.

The movement must’ve been discomforting, for Y/N took a quick step backward from him and eyed him wearily.

“Fine,” Eris hissed before stomping away, not waiting for her to follow.

——

Some moments later, Eris had led her to a wing that Y/N was sure was on the opposite side of the Forest House than her own.

He gestured toward a door, apparently refusing to open it himself.

Y/N huffed and practically charged it.

Nesta and Cassian jumped to their feet. But Azriel looked unsurprised by Y/N’s aggressive entrance. He probably had shadows lingering in the hall that she had missed.

Cassian was the first to start opening his mouth to speak, but Y/N interrupted him before he could. She knew he was about to apologize by his face alone – and she couldn’t deal with it at this moment.

“Take me to the Mortal Lands,” Y/N demanded of Cassian, before he could speak.

His mouth dropped helplessly, and then he looked at Eris over her shoulder, as if he would silently give him answers.

“Take me to the Mortal Lands,” Y/N repeated, even more angerily. “You at least owe me that after lying to me for months.”

Cassian looked to his mate for guidance, but her expression was passive.

“Y/N,” Eris spoke quietly, remaining behind her. “It is not safe.”

“He’s right,” Azriel agreed as he pushed off the wall. “All of Autumn Court knows you are Eris’ mate – thanks to Beron.”

Y/N only glared at the shadowsinger. But to Azriel it was better than her not acknowledging him at all.

“I can take care of myself,” Y/N nearly growled.

Cassian stepped forward. “If you wish to go back to Night Court, we shall take you there. Or...” His eyes flicked to Eris. “You can stay here." He sighed, "But you will be a walking target in the Mortal Lands, open for the taking.”

Y/N looked around at all of them as if they were insane.

Only Nesta seemed to be as confounded as her.

“So then…” Y/N whispered angrily. "I am being forced to pick between my prisons? Is that it?”

Eris stepped to her side. “You will never be a prisoner here, Y/N. You will be a guest.”

Y/N was quiet.

Nesta glared at the new High Lord. “And if he tries anything you do not consent to, I will cut off his prick myself and take you back to Night Court.”

Cassian failed to hide his smile.

Eris rolled his eyes.

But Y/N wasn’t amused.

Everyone watched her closely, waiting for her decision.

“I shall stay here,” she finally announced.

Without saying anything more, Y/N stormed out of the room.

Eris didn’t follow. Instead, he gave the three Night Courtiers a warning look. “My borders remain open to you. If you wish to visit Y/N – on her terms – you may do so whenever you see fit.”

Nesta gawked at him. Then glared at her mate and then Azriel. “We are just going to leave her here? Alone!? With him?!”

“She feels betrayed by all of you,” Eris countered gravely.

Nesta crossed her arms. “And whose fault is that?”

Eris took a moment to answer. “I did what I believed was best to protect her – and I will continue to do the same.”

Nesta slowly stepped toward the High Lord. “You know it wasn’t long ago that you were begging to marry me. I was unimpressed with you then, and I am even more unimpressed with you when it comes to my friend.”

Eris didn’t back down though, not even to Lady Death. “And now you have your precious Illyrian.” Only he could whisper a mere fact and make it sound like an insult.

Cassian shifted his weight nervously, fully preparing to have to step between his mate and her next prey.

But Eris calmly looked at him and Azriel. “Y/N will be safe here.”

Then Eris looked down at Nesta, knowing she needed to hear the next part more than anyone. “And though she is my mate, I make no assumptions that she will accept such a bond. Once Autumn Court has been calmed and she is no longer at risk, she can return to the Mortal Lands.”

“You think it will be that easy to let her?” Azriel challenged.

Eris sneered at the shadowsinger. “You let her go, so why don’t you tell me?”

It was now Nesta who was forced to hide her smile.

Eris straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. “Stay another night or leave. I do not care.”

Then he left to go hunt down his mate, who was surely lost in the Forest House.

––––––

please please please let me know what you think. write me a book report. it's what keeps me going. 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Chapter XVII

#acotar #gust & flame #eris #eris acotar #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #autumn court #lady of autumn #azriel #cassian #forest house #lucien vanserra #nesta archeron #high lord of autumn court

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muiitoloko · 5 days

Note

For Sinclair what if the reader is vulnerable and insecure because she’s not from the same world of him and feel inferior because she didn’t go to university and has a life pretty boring and chaotic (like unemployment and thing like that) and as he his someone important and relatively powerful from the upper class she’s afraid of him will finally get rid of her because she wrongly thinks she’s not enough ?

Title: In the Eyes of the Beholder

Summary: In his eyes you were everything.

Pairing: Sinclair Bryant × Fem!Reader

Warning: Smut

Author's Notes: Alright, folks, let's address the elephant in the room—I'll admit, this might not be my shining moment in the world of writing. Blame it on the pesky little gremlin known as writer's block. As usual, though, I'm all ears for any feedback you've got!

As you sat across from Sinclair in the cozy café where you first met, your mind was consumed by a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. You didn't know why, of all people, Sinclair chose you. He was everything you weren't - beautiful, wealthy, and intelligent. You, on the other hand, were just a simple waitress who hadn't even attended college.

Sinclair had a charm about him that was impossible to resist. Like a human golden retriever, he exuded warmth and affection, his infectious enthusiasm drawing you in from the moment you first met. He would come to the café regularly, striking up conversations with you that ranged from the mundane to the profound. It quickly became apparent that he loved to talk, and you found yourself captivated by his every word.

Despite your initial reservations, you couldn't help but be drawn to Sinclair. His kindness and genuine affection for you melted away your doubts, and before you knew it, you were swept up in a whirlwind romance.

But as your relationship with Sinclair blossomed, so too did your feelings of guilt and inadequacy. You couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he deserved someone better than you. He had everything - a successful career, wealth, and a bright future ahead of him. You, on the other hand, struggled to make ends meet, living paycheck to paycheck in a small apartment.

You felt out of place in Sinclair's world, like an imposter pretending to belong. The stark contrast between his life of privilege and your humble existence only served to highlight your insecurities.

Yet, despite your fears and doubts, you couldn't bring yourself to let go of Sinclair. His love and affection filled a void within you that you never knew existed, and the thought of losing him was unbearable.

But beneath the surface, a nagging fear lingered - the fear that one day, Sinclair would realize that he could do better than you. That he would tire of your shortcomings and leave you behind, casting you aside like a forgotten relic of his past.

As you sat in the café, lost in your thoughts, Sinclair reached across the table and took your hand in his. His touch was warm and reassuring, a silent reminder that you weren't alone in your fears.

"Is everything alright, darling?" he asked, his voice soft and concerned.

You forced a smile, pushing aside your doubts for the moment. "Yes, everything's fine," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

But deep down, you knew that the shadows of doubt and insecurity would continue to haunt you until you found the courage to confront them head-on. Until then, you could only hold onto Sinclair's hand and hope that his love would be enough to see you through the storm.

As a customer walked through the café door, you quickly got up, slipping into work mode with practiced ease. Sinclair watched you go, a fond smile gracing his lips as he admired your efficiency and grace. He checked his wristwatch, noting that your shift would end soon, and he could finally take you to your apartment.

Settling back in his seat, Sinclair leafed through the magazine he had brought with him, his curiosity piqued by the articles within. He commented to himself about the interesting tidbits he found, his voice a constant hum of chatter that filled the quiet space of the café. He was never one to stay quiet for long, his enthusiasm for conversation infectious and endearing.

Lost in the pages of the magazine, Sinclair didn't even notice the hours passing by. He was thoroughly entertained, engrossed in the world of fashion and style until you interrupted him, now dressed in your normal clothes as your shift had ended.

Sinclair nodded, standing up eagerly as you approached, showing you the magazine with a child-like excitement. "Look at this, darling," he exclaimed, pointing to a particularly captivating article. "It's all about the latest trends in fashion. Isn't it fascinating?

You chuckled softly, amused by Sinclair's enthusiasm for fashion magazines. "I didn't know you were into reading about fashion," you remarked, teasing him gently as you walked outside together.

Sinclair shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes as he replied, "Oh, I just like reading all kinds of things. Fashion, technology, literature... you name it."

You couldn't help but tease him further, poking him playfully in the side. "So, does that mean you enjoy reading porn magazines too?" you quipped, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

Sinclair was quiet for the first time, looking at the fashion magazine in his hand with more interest than usual. You observed him, amused by the sudden shift in his demeanor, and couldn't help but notice his ears turning red, a sure sign that he was blushing.

With a good-natured laugh, you teased him. "How many Playboys do you have at home, Clair?" you joked, your playful tone bringing a smile to his face.

Sinclair protested, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "I'm not a pervert, darling," he protested, holding up the magazine defensively. "They're not Playboys, they're scientific journals discussing... um, intimate topics and different sexual positions."

You couldn't contain your laughter, the image of Sinclair with such magazines seeming utterly incongruous with his kind soul. Opening the door to your apartment, you ushered Sinclair inside before following him in.

As you settled into your cozy living space, you couldn't help but marvel at the complexity of Sinclair's character. He was a millionaire futurologist, a man of intellect and curiosity, yet there was a childlike innocence to him that never failed to charm you.

As Sinclair settled down on the couch next to you, you couldn't help but feel a surge of affection toward him. Pulling him close, you nestled into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. You couldn't shake the curiosity about why he didn't share all the things he learned in those articles about sex, but you decided to let it slide for the moment.

Sinclair, sensing your closeness, nodded in agreement, his brown eyes meeting yours with a hint of uncertainty. "Can I kiss you?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

You caressed his cheek tenderly, a gentle smile playing on your lips. It was a question he had asked countless times before, a testament to his respect for your boundaries and his genuine desire to make sure you were comfortable.

"You don't have to ask, Sinclair," you whispered, your voice filled with reassurance. "You know you can kiss me whenever you want."

With a relieved smile, Sinclair leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a tender, loving kiss. It was a familiar sensation, yet it never failed to send shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that only he could quell.

As the kiss deepened, Sinclair's hands began to explore your body, his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. He caressed you slowly, his movements gentle and deliberate, as if savoring every moment with you.

Feeling emboldened by the intensity of the moment, you took control, straddling Sinclair as you deepened the kiss. Your hands roamed freely over his body, tracing the contours of his frame as you lost yourself in the heat of the moment.

Sinclair responded eagerly, his hands roaming over your body with a newfound sense of urgency. It was a dance of passion and desire, a symphony of love and longing that transcended words.

As the kiss finally broke, you rested your forehead against Sinclair's, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you gazed into his eyes. With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you slid your hand under his shirt, feeling the softness of his skin beneath your fingertips. Sinclair's chest rose and fell with each breath, a rhythm that matched the quickening pace of your own heartbeat.

Feeling the few scattered hairs on his chest, you trailed your fingers lightly, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through his body. Sinclair let out a soft moan of pleasure, his grip on you tightening as he reveled in the sensation of your touch.

With a newfound boldness, you tugged at Sinclair's shirt, the fabric clinging to his skin as you peeled it away. Sinclair offered no resistance, his eyes dark with desire as he watched you with a hunger that matched your own.

As his shirt fell to the floor, you wasted no time in exploring his bare chest, pressing kisses along the expanse of his skin. Each touch elicited a gasp of pleasure from Sinclair, his hands roaming over your body in search of more.

But just as you were lost in the heat of the moment, Sinclair gently stopped you, his voice low and husky with desire. "Can I take control this time, darling?" he murmured, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered his request.

A wicked grin spread across your lips as you nodded in agreement, eager to see what Sinclair had in store. "Of course, Clair," you replied, your voice thick with anticipation. "I'm all yours."

With a confident smile, Sinclair stood up, his eyes filled with a hunger that mirrored your own. You eagerly clung to him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you to your bedroom. Each step was deliberate, as if he were savoring the anticipation of what was to come.

Gently placing you on the bed, Sinclair's hands moved with purpose as he began to undress you. With practiced ease, he unbuttoned your blouse, revealing the lacy bra underneath. His touch was electric, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through your body as he trailed his fingers along your skin.

Moving on to your jeans, Sinclair helped you slide them off, his gaze never leaving yours. You felt exposed, vulnerable, yet strangely exhilarated by his intense gaze. As you lay there in just your bra and panties, you couldn't help but feel self-conscious, the mismatched lingerie a stark reminder of your insecurities.

But as Sinclair looked at you, his eyes filled with adoration and desire, all your doubts faded away. In his eyes, you were a goddess, a vision of beauty and perfection that left him breathless.

As he leaned in to kiss you, his lips soft and hungry against yours, you felt a surge of desire coursing through your veins. Sinclair's hands trailed along the waistband of your panties, teasing and tantalizing as he explored every inch of your body with a hunger that matched your own.

With each touch, each kiss, you lost yourself in the heat of the moment, the world around you fading away as Sinclair ignited a fire within you that burned hotter than the sun. In that moment, there was only the two of you, lost in a symphony of passion and desire that knew no bounds.

As Sinclair whispered sweet nothings in your ear, his voice husky with desire, you surrendered yourself to him completely, knowing that in his arms, you were safe, cherished, and loved beyond measure.

"You know, darling," Sinclair began, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine, "I've always been fascinated by the intricacies of human desire and sexuality."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his typical segue into another of his rambling conversations. "Oh? And what exactly have you discovered in your studies?" you asked, a playful glint in your eyes as you indulged him.

Sinclair's grin widened, his excitement palpable as he launched into his explanation. "Well, you see, it's all about the psychology of desire, the interplay of hormones and neurotransmitters, and the myriad ways in which humans express their carnal instincts."

You listened intently, amused by Sinclair's earnest enthusiasm for the topic. "And where did you learn all of this?" you asked, genuinely curious about the source of his knowledge.

With a proud grin, Sinclair confessed, "From my extensive collection of sex magazines, of course!"

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head in amusement as Sinclair continued to ramble on about the intricacies of human desire and sexuality. His enthusiasm was endearing, if not a little overwhelming at times. As you reached to undo his belt, Sinclair's voice faltered for a moment, his attention momentarily diverted by your playful actions.

With a playful grin, you teased him, "I think I'll have to conduct my own research to verify your findings, Mr. Bryant. "

Sinclair chuckled, his fingers fumbling with the clasp of your bra as he tried to keep up with your teasing banter. Finally managing to undo it, he watched with a mixture of awe and desire as you slipped out of the straps, revealing your breasts to him.

His brown eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight before him, his breath catching in his throat. For a moment, he was speechless, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts and emotions.

But then, with a hungry look in his eyes, Sinclair finally fell silent as he leaned in to take one of your nipples in his mouth. You gasped in pleasure, arching your back as he suckled gently, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Moaning softly, you tangled your fingers in his blond hair, urging him closer as he lavished attention on your sensitive flesh. Sinclair's touch was electric, igniting a fire within you that burned hotter with each passing moment.

As Sinclair lavished attention on your sensitive flesh, his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body, you couldn't help but moan softly, your breath hitching with each flick of his tongue. His blond hair tickled your skin as he continued his ministrations, his mouth hot against your skin, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Feeling emboldened by the intensity of the moment, you let out a low whimper, your fingers digging into Sinclair's scalp as you urged him closer. His baritone voice whispered sinful promises against your skin, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through your veins.

As Sinclair's hands roamed over your body, his touch ignited a fire within you that burned hotter with each passing moment. You arched your back, pressing your body closer to his, desperate for more of his intoxicating touch.

With a hunger that matched your own, Sinclair explored every inch of your body, his lips trailing down your torso as he worshipped you with a reverence that left you breathless. Each kiss, each caress, sent bolts of pleasure racing through you, building the tension to an unbearable crescendo.

As his lips closed around your other nipple, sucking and teasing with expert precision, you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped your lips. Sinclair's touch was electrifying, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you whole.

With trembling hands, you reached for the waistband of his pants, eager to return the favor and drive him to the brink of ecstasy. As you teased the fabric, Sinclair let out a low growl of desire, his hips bucking against your touch as he urged you on.

With a wicked grin, you slipped your hand beneath his boxers, feeling the hardness of his arousal against your palm. Sinclair gasped in pleasure, his breath hot against your skin as you stroked him slowly, savoring the feel of him in your hand.

But Sinclair held your wrist gently, his touch a silent plea for you to pause. As he stood up, he released your hand and began to remove his pants and underwear, kicking them aside with practiced ease. You followed suit, shedding your underwear and tossing them aside as Sinclair returned to the bed, his gaze never leaving yours.

Settling back onto the bed, Sinclair reached for you, pulling you close as he began to speak. His voice was a soothing rumble, a comforting presence in the midst of your swirling emotions.

"Thank you for being with me, darling," he began, his voice soft and sincere. "I don't know what I would do without you. You mean everything to me."

Confusion clouded your thoughts as you listened to his words. How could he be thanking you? You were nothing compared to him, a simple waitress with nothing to offer but your love.

Sinclair must have sensed your turmoil, for he reached out to gently wipe away the tears that streamed down your cheeks. "You are everything to me," he murmured, his voice laced with tenderness. "You've given me something I never thought I would find – true love."

His words struck you to the core, a wave of emotion washing over you as you struggled to comprehend the depth of his feelings. How could someone like Sinclair, with all his charm and intelligence, consider himself lucky to have you?

"I don't understand," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I don't deserve you, Sinclair."

But Sinclair shook his head, his eyes filled with conviction as he spoke. "No, darling, it's the other way around. I finally found someone who loves me for who I am, not for what I have."

Tears continued to flow freely down your cheeks as you listened to his heartfelt words. In that moment, you felt overwhelmed by the magnitude of his love, humbled by his unwavering devotion to you.

Sinclair reached out to cup your face in his hands, his touch gentle and reassuring. "Please don't cry, my love," he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. "You are everything to me, and I am grateful for every moment we share together."

His words were like a balm to your wounded soul, soothing the doubts and insecurities that had plagued you for so long. In Sinclair's arms, you felt safe, cherished, and loved beyond measure.

With a trembling smile, you leaned in to kiss him, pouring all your love and gratitude into the tender gesture. In that moment, there were no doubts, no fears – only the overwhelming certainty that you were exactly where you were meant to be, in the arms of the man who loved you more than life itself.

#sinclair bryant x reader #alan rickman #sinclair bryant #close my eyes #alan rickman x reader

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comfortless · 24 days

Note

okay so. König in love or any thoughts rlly i need to crawl into your brain and live there. ;v; you have made me love him 10x more

i can’t decide on whether or not he would be very passive or very aggressive when in the pursuit of someone (let’s be honest with ourselves: there is no inbetween)!

in situations where you’re perhaps working together, it must kick in some sort of urgency. you’re toying with your gun, missing cues, a bit too flighty… as if it isn’t life or death here. his approach is certainly more aggressive, then: you have to be kept safe and away from all of the horrible filth in the world. a battlefield is no place for a princess, and the thought of you getting hurt or worse before you’re able to have a bunch of cute kids or live out on that vast expanse of land with the cozy cabin he’s promised you is horrifying for him.

you don’t get much of an option here. he isn’t retiring his weapons any time soon, but you must. he’s losing sleep, lashing out at any other operator who comes a hair too close. he’s heard rumors of women who sleep around the barracks and those men ogling you must have those things in mind for you. he wouldn’t allow that. he’s seen men come back from torture and he won’t allow that, either. a proposal is rushed, but it’s sincere. he’ll take you on all the nice dates you didn’t get to share prior when he’s on leave. just stay home, send him letters, call him often, and you’ll get the world and then some.

König is only passive when he’s out of his element. meeting an angel on earth in some rundown shop where he’s unprepared and feeling utterly naked without a knife or a big gun on his person is harrowing. he thinks back on those times from high school: the faked confessions, his first kiss only stolen away out of pity rather than love. he has no fucking idea how to approach a woman that he will likely never see again. so, he just doesn’t.

the beast at the corner of the shop flicking through packages of subpar snacks only offers a few subtle glances your way, silently praying you don’t detect the way he openly stares when your back is turned. he follows at a distance, innocuously pretending he’s also interested in the flour down the baking aisle you’re on. he can bake, sure, would happily spend hours in his lonely kitchen preparing you strudel or something more to your liking if you asked, but what’s the point of doing any of that for himself?

if, for some reason he can’t quite comprehend, you decide to approach him… batting your eyelashes and pointing up at something on the top shelf, requesting his assistance, he might try to shove back the thought that you’re only being kind because you need something. he’ll make small talk while passing you the package of semisweet chocolate chips, huff something akin to a laugh when you make a quip about how quiet this store is when it’s your favorite. the flirtations come naturally for you, saying that you wished he could give you an inch or two (as to not heckle anyone taller for help in the future), and damn his loose tongue because he’s quick to respond then. telling you he could give you nine, actually.

silly relationship thoughts…?

he definitely falls into the realm of men that send you the most cringy “couple goals” videos. you know the ones that are like “five reasons your man is not cheating!” followed by a slideshow of a home cooked meal, a soft looking bed, a photo of a couple holding hands and all giddy smiles, a nice clean home, then… a picture of a woman in some cute lacy lingerie. has the worst grin on his face when your expression sours, but he promises to scour the internet until he finds something lovely and strappy for you to wear for him.

sleepy König is a menace!! he snores. loudly. sometimes talks absolute nonsense. it’s impossible to push him away because he’s so big and it’s all dead weight when he’s knocked out. if you’re trying to wriggle out of bed because the birds are chirping outside and the sunlight is peeking at you through the curtains, his grip around you only tightens. he likes to hold your hand while you’re sleeping, too. even when his get a bit clammy. it’s cute until you desperately long for a shower and he still won’t wake up.

his significant other is the perfect comfort to him. even when things are bad: an argument or an entire ocean between you two. your voice whether infuriated or in love, the smell of your perfume or even your sweat, the feeling of your soft skin or the bite of your teeth, your taste whether from your mouth or skin, the view of you’re messy bedhead or dressed to utter perfection. all of you is a comfort. he isn’t just a lover, he’s a horribly obsessed devotee in every way. logs in some mental list what perfume you wear on what day, how you choose to dress depending on what you’re doing, mundane things like how you wring your hands after washing them or just how you position yourself when standing or sitting. every detail has its importance, and he wants to memorize everything about you for those long nights when he’s deployed and you can’t be there with him.

he knows what a meme is, yes, he isn’t that old, but his sense of humor more aligns with whatever is dark or perverse and historical jokes (those “me if i were in medieval Europe” videos might make him grin). if you’re sent one and it goes over your head, he’s happy to explain to you the time period, what role you and he might play in such a scenario, all in so much detail you wonder if he’s actually some sort of genius. only… he would casually tell you he wouldn’t mind going down on you even if you were some maiden from a time long past that hadn’t bathed in weeks.

probably likes to mark you up a bit when he knows he’ll be away for a while. bite marks on your inner thighs, a necklace of hickies on your neck and along your clavicle. it’s embarrassing, trying to explain why you’re wearing a scarf or a thick choker in the middle of the warmer months. he doesn’t do it out of fear that you’ll run off to another (though, maybe that is part of it), but ultimately so you won’t forget. not about the way he made you feel, about the little whines that left your mouth or the way you gripped at his hair, who you belong to just as much as he belongs to you.

#sorry this is all that i can conjure up at the moment!

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stardustdreams-andcaffeine · 1 year

Text

Reluctant Protector | Din Djarin

Part 1 of 2

Din Djarin x Fem!reader

Summary: After being abandoned as a child, you grew up working for one of the most prolific crime lords in the galaxy in order to survive. It all comes crashing down as a split second decision has the Mandalorian hunting you. As it turns out, your hunter might be the only one who can save you. After all, the lines between predator and prey have always been blurred.

Warnings: angst (what's new), mild language, panic attack, violence, fluff, mentions of human trafficking (brief), Mando being a fool in love, adult themes throughout, happy ending (again, what's new)

A/N: This one was from the request that I accidentally deleted (i'm so mad at myself), but it was RIGHT up my alley lol. I hope my sweet anonymous finds this and I hope it is everything you wanted and more 🤍 ALSO! I got sooo carried away so it's a two-parter for ease of reading. You can find part 2 below!

Part 2

You never should have met the Mandalorian Bounty Hunter.

You never should have left the comfort of your home planet as a child. You never should have known anything besides the warmth of your mother's arms. It does not make sense that someone like you would meet someone like him. It should not have been possible, not in a million sun cycles.

So how did your story and the Mandalorian's tangle? How did ‘never’ get overcome so easily, so swiftly?

The answer is rather simple. Anything that never should have been was thrown from impossible to possible the night your parents left on a date night when you were seven years old.

And never came back.

|||

You remembered everything from that night.

You remembered the way the rain pattered against the large window in the common room of your cozy home. You remembered the spread of stars peeking out from behind the rain clouds, ready to shine their light upon the newly-brought night. You remembered everything from that night, including the look upon your father's face when he said goodbye.

You were too young to understand it then, too little to catch the hint of despair and shred of desperation as he ushered your emotionless mother out of the front door.

"Be back before bedtime, mama! You have to finish that story you started last night," Your little voice rang out, a smile spread on your lips.

Your mother, almost numb, did not respond. Strange, she always did.

Noticing your growing frown, your father smiled, but it did not reach his eyes, "Goodbye, little one. We'll be back before you know it"

"Have a good night," You called back, already humming to yourself as you played with the toys your father had spilled out in a hurry before you, "Love you lots!"

You did not even glance up as the door shut, did not even seem to notice that, for the first time, your parents did not say they loved you too. Looking back, it was hard to fathom you had missed all of the signs. But you were just a kid, a kid. How could you have known? How could you have guessed?

How were you to predict that your parents would not walk back through that door?

When they did not make it back in time to say goodnight, you hadn't thought much about it. When you woke up and they still had not returned, confusion began to ring within your young, innocent soul. For the first day, you lost the worry to the joy that you did not have to go to lessons today. You ate what you wanted and played for as long as you liked, but when night came once more, you wondered when mama would return to finish her story.

The food ran out a week later, and it would only be a few more days until you would find out why exactly your parents had not returned.

Your small fingers worked anxiously on the drawing before you. It was all you could do not to burst into tears. Your mother and father were still not back, and you were hungry. You knew you'd have to go into town soon, but you had no money and no adults to protect you.

What had happened to mama and papa, you wondered? Were they hurt? Were they...were they dead?

That was when the front door opened for the first time in a week and a half, and your life changed forever.

You gasped as the door swung open, hope flooding your small being. You jumped to your feet swiftly and, with a bright smile upon your lips, sprinted blindly towards the man who had just walked through the door.

"Papa! I'm so-"

Your words died as you skidded to a halt before the looming Zeltron male before you. This wasn't your father, and your mother was nowhere near him. Taking a hesitant step back, your bottom lip began to tremble.

"Who are you?" You whispered, your small hands shaking and your youthful voice higher-pitched than normal. The magenta-skinned male tilted his head down at you, seeming to examine you closely for a moment.

"Vince Hanon," He replied, his voice smooth and flooded with calculation, "Your father owed me a great debt."

That was when you noticed the towering goons behind Vince, strapped to the teeth with blasters and blades alike. Your eyes widened a fraction before anger boiled through your blood. They hurt your parents, they were the reason mama hadn't come home.

Swifter than Vince or his men could predict, you shot to the side and grabbed one of the long-forgotten toys along the ground and hurled it at the tall Zeltron.

To your dismay, he caught it with ease.

A smirk danced on his face as he glanced at the toy and then at you with what seemed to be mirth. Without a word, his guards stalked forward, one pulling a pair of metal cuffs as he neared you. Surprisingly, Vince held out a single hand, stopping all movements of his men.

"Sir?" One asked, glancing back at him, "The next shipment of children leaves soon. If she is to join, we should-"

"Do not give this one to the Trade," Vince ordered, walking past his men and up to you. Ever so slowly, he knelt before you, "She is young enough to learn, and strong enough to survive."

"Survive what?" You blurted, your heart pounding in your chest, "What's the Trade? What are you going to do with me?"

Vince laughed deeply before you, "So many questions, child. You'll have your answers."

He stood before you, extending down a purple hand, "Come, I'm sure you're hungry."

And so, with no other choice, you took the strange man's hand and left.

Vince never lied to you. He told you the moment you left your home that your father had lost everything trying to pay back the debt he owed Vince. With nothing left to give but his only child, he had offered you up for the child slave trade.

For reasons you would never truly come to know, Vince did not trade you. In fact, he traded no other child after that night.

He informed you that he was the head of a group of people who did bad things for good reasons and rewards. It wouldn't be for another couple years until you understood that meant he was a Crime Lord. What he was doing was wrong, what he was training you to do was wrong.

But you were a kid, and you did what you had to do to survive.

You're not a kid anymore.

|||

Present Day

The barely-used knife pressed its soothing cool into the skin of your thigh as you sauntered through the compound. As you passed the counterparts you had known since childhood, they stepped aside with wary smiles.

They knew your true knife was not the blade with which you had a slightly below average affinity. It was your tongue.

“Look who it is, Vince’s little prodigy.” The sound of the ever-present guards outside of Vince Hanon’s office called out to you, their lips turned up in a not entirely taunting smirk.

“Good morning, lackeys,” You greeted in return, stopping before the large, steel door that held your boss’s office behind it, “Vince sent word that he wanted to see me, another assignment apparently.”

One of the guards snickered slightly, “Hopefully it has nothing to do with using that blade on your thigh. Vince’s little prodigy would be too dead to report.”

“So funny,” You deadpan, shaking your head at the guard.

“You know, if Vince let you train with me as a child you would be proficient in the ways of combat,” The one who spoke first insisted. With a taunting smile, you walked up to the door and patted the guard’s shoulder.

“I’d also be as stupid as you, which is exactly why he didn’t.”

The laughter of the two guards filled your ears and brought a smile to your lips as you pushed the button on the panel beside the door. The steel whooshed aside, revealing Vince’s office. With that easy smile still on your lips, you greet the Zeltron who saved you as a child. His magenta skin gleamed in the sunlight that streamed in through the massive windows that made up the far wall of the office, and his white teeth were a stark contrast to the dark color as he looked up to you and smiled.

It did not go unnoticed that he only smiled at you like that.

Vince Hanon had no lover and no children, but anyone who knew a fraction about him knew that the closest thing he had to family was an abandoned child whose life he’d spared all those years ago. He wasn’t the father you’d always dreamed of, but he was the one you had. He hadn’t sold you for profit as your first father had, he hadn’t let you play with toys or even be a child in those first years under his care, but he had made you independent in this cruel, uncaring galaxy. That was something so very few women got to be.

Vince Hanon made you self-sufficient when you should have died long ago, and it was that reason alone that made you grateful to him. Not caring, as a daughter would be to her father, as you knew he was with you, but grateful.

“My Prodigy,” Vince called out, standing from his massive mahogany desk carved with images of bones and crumbled towers along the legs, “It is always a pleasure to see you.”

“And you, Vince.” Your words were fluid and easy, not entirely a lie. A part of your heart was caught in anxious anticipation, though.

You knew what came next. You knew he’d give you an assignment that made every part of your soul cringe. You knew what came next would push you further down the path of corruption and darkness. You knew, with a biting horror that never seemed to leave you alone, that after a few more years of doing his bidding, that small voice that whispered its disgust would go quiet.

And you’d be just like Vince.

“I was pleased to see your last assignment was handled with efficiency and discreteness,” Vince complimented. You nodded obediently, your hands clasped before you.

“The debtor did not have the credits to pay the balance due, so it seemed the Hothian government misplaced the deed to her home.” You reported, the words less bitter on your tongue than they would have been a few years ago.

“And it was found with my name on it,” Vince finished for you, allowing a deep chuckle to resonate through the room as he walked to your side. He put his arm along your shoulders, pulling you to his side and walking with you towards the back of his office space, “Good work, my Prodigy. I am impressed with how far you have come.”

“Thank you, Vince.”

Your jaw was tight and that nagging grew in your soul. He was pleased that you’d placed an elderly woman onto the streets to repay the debt she owed. The debt to Vince for saving her son’s life after Vince had been the one to order his death.

Is this truly who you were now?

The thought did not last long, as you shoved it deep down and locked it in the same room in your mind where you kept that little girl sleeping in front of an unopened door, waiting for her parents. You did what you had to in order to survive. You had no choice.

How much longer would that lie placate you?

“I have been thinking,” Vince began again, stopping near the far wall of his office where a massive box covered with a large cloth sits. He removed his arm from your shoulders and stepped back to face you, “There is no one in this organization that I trust more than you.”

You blinked in surprise, the words slamming through you.You did not quite know how to feel when your trained eyes examined his features and expression and saw that he meant it, saw that he looked at you as a father would their child. Vince had trained you to see tells in a person’s face, and you saw none in his.

“You honor me, boss.”

Vince took a moment to simply examine your face, his eyes seeming to search for something. When he seemed to not find it, a small, real smile began on his lips.

“I have one more assignment for you,” Vince informed, that smile growing as he took another step back and closer to the covered box, “And if you succeed, I want to make you my Second.”

The world seemed to stop spinning for a moment. Your eyes widened a fraction, your mouth dropping open the slightest bit. His Second, he wanted to make you his Second.

“But that would mean…” You trailed off, your eyes desperately searching for a tell of a lie on his face. You found none.

“You would take over for me when I retire.” Vince finished for you.

“Vince, I couldn’t-”

“Yes, you could.” His interruption was accompanied by a hand to your shoulder, “You have earned this, my Prodigy. You deserve this.”

His Second. You would lead this organization one day, you would be the next Vince Hanon. You would have power and control. No more would you have to fear for the next meal or the next morning. You’d be safe, in control, in power. You could change the way this was run, maybe even do some good.

This was the answer to the nagging in your chest, the horror in your soul. You could have a shot at redemption for all that you’ve done.

“Thank you, boss.” You whispered hoarsely, your voice not hiding an ounce of your emotion. Vince nodded and stepped back, those calculating eyes sweeping over your figure.

“Just one more assignment, child. One more, and it’s all yours.”

“Anything.” Your response was stronger this time, your eyes holding a hope that hadn’t been there since you were a child.

“A recent debtor repaid his debt. I need you to take care of it.” Vince’s words barely registered in your mind. All you could think of was your freedom. Then he pulled the cloth off of the box, and you realized it wasn’t a box at all.

It was a cage.

With a small gasp, your mind snapped back to this moment. The freedom you’d almost been able to taste came crashing down, and that horror roared in your soul so loudly that you actually stumbled back a step.

There was a child in that cage, a little girl who looks to be the same age that you were all those years ago.

“But you…you stopped selling to the Trade,” Your voice was a breath, your words ringing with terror.

“I did,” Vince conceded, stroking a hand along the cage’s bars and making the young girl in it recoil back as far as she could in the cramped space, “And my profits since have taken a steep drop. If I am to cement your future, I need to build up our reputation and savings again. I need to make sure every crime syndicate from here to the Outer Rim knows not to mess with us, with you.”

You were shaking your head, your heart racing and your mind fraying apart as if you hadn’t spent the entirety of your life fortifying it and trying desperately to forget.

“I can’t,” You gasped, shaking your head and taking back a step, “I can’t-”

“Yes you can,” Vince soothed, stepping up to you and holding your arms, “You’re ready for this. Think of everything this could bring you.”

Oh you were. As you stared into that scared little girl’s eyes, it was all you could think about. You were stuck awfully between flashes of your abandonment and what your future would look like if you did this one last assignment. The loneliness in the empty house, the empire you could build. The hunger that had set in after a week alone, the security of always having another meal. The betrayal that had burrowed deep in your chest, the power you could fill its hole with.

“She’s just another trade, a simple barter. Nothing more than the deed to a home.” Vince’s voice was an echo of your thoughts, the devil on your shoulder.

It would be so easy, so easy. After everything that you had been through, why should you care how your safety and freedom was bought? You deserved it, your life has been anything but fair. It would be easy. One trade, and the world, the very galaxy, would be in the palm of your hands.

But would your soul ever recover? Would you ever be able to look at yourself in a mirror again? You knew what happened to little girls who went into the trade, for being in this business you knew all too well of the perversions of the people in this galaxy.

Could you live with this?

Vince saw the flash of an answer in your eyes a moment too late.

The knife was already in your hand and thrown by the time Vince had just begun to open his mouth and shout for his guards. The knife lodged into his shoulder even though you’d been aiming for something more lethal. It was enough to stop him from rushing you, though. You sped forward and tackled him to the ground with every ounce of strength you had. His cry of pain was muffled by the hand you slapped over his mouth. In a quick move, you ripped the knife free from his shoulder and angled it at his throat.

Vince went as silent as death, his eyes wide with betrayal, with…with hurt.

Your chest squeezed painfully at the look in his eyes as you moved your hand from covering his mouth. He didn’t scream, he knew better, “My child, I’ve given you the world.”

His words were choked with tears, you realized suddenly. To your surprise, tears of your own gathered in your eyes.

“I’m not your child,” You whispered, clenching your jaw to keep your resolve, “And I don’t want the world if this is what it costs.”

There was a flash of rage in his eyes, and it made your stomach drop. You’d seen it before, but never directed at you.

“You do this,” His words were calculated and controlled, barely veiling his growing anger, “And I will never stop hunting you. I will show you just what I spared you from when you were a child.”

Something broke within your chest at the thought, but for the first time since seven years old, you weren’t shoving down guilt to do something. You could feel your heart open and free, your soul resting for once, and you knew that this was what you had to do. You need to be able to live with yourself, even if it means you lived a short life.

You are better than this, than everything you have done to survive.

You aren’t a kid anymore. You have a choice.

“So be it,” You murmured, and then slammed the handle of the knife against Vince’s temple. He was out cold as soon as the blow was delivered, which was surprising in itself. That move had never worked before for you. You’re glad it had now, because as you stood and moved away from the magenta-skinned Crime Lord, you realized that this was freedom.

You’re free now, and it was better than the freedom that you would have bought with the trading of your soul.

Without another thought to the consequences of your actions, you turned and sprinted over to the cage where the little girl sat crouched as far as she could in the corner. Her eyes were wide with fear and confusion and hope as she looked up at you.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” You soothed, stooping down in front of the cage and looking at the lock.

Once you saw the shape of the key needed, you stood and jogged to Vince’s massive desk. It only took a few moments of searching before you snagged the key from under a stack of papers and forms.

A knock sounded on the massive steel door, but it thankfully remained closed, “Everything alright in there?”

Your pulse spiked dangerously and your heart missed a beat.

“Everything’s fine, lackeys,” You responded coolly, almost sounding bored, “Vince had to grab something from his chambers.”

This seemed to placate them, and you’re relieved that Vince’s chambers are attached to his office through a door at the very back. Knowing time was running out, you sprinted to the cage and crouched once more. Your fingers trembled as you undid the lock and threw the door open. The girl sat pressed into the far corner, and you let out a panicked breath as you extended a hand out to her.

“Come on, kid. We don’t have much time left.”

She examined your hand for an agonizingly long moment before realizing you weren’t going to hurt her. To your relief, she quickly took your outstretched hand and crawled out as fast as she could. You kept her hand in yours and tugged her towards the door at the back wall that leads to Vince’s room.

“How are we going to get out?” She mumbled. You pressed the button beside the door and it slid open easily, revealing a room of black silk and deep emerald walls. Tugging the girl in, you shut the door and made sure to press the lock button before pulling her towards the wall beside Vince’s bed.

You released her hand for a moment as you approached the massive painting that rested on the wall. Your fingers searched the edges desperately until they found a small button.

“Vince showed this to me when I was your age,” You panted, pushing the button and swinging the painting aside, “He kept it for a quick escape if the compound was ever raided.”

A large, dark hole was in the wall behind the painting—a chamber that led directly to the back of the compound. The young girl shook her head slightly, her eyes going wide as she peered into the dark reaches of the cavernous chamber.

“I can’t,” She whispered, her voice trembling, “It’s too scary, I can’t. I-”

Before you could even console her, the sound of a fist pounding on the steel door to the office in the other room echoed through the walls, “Boss, you in there? What’s going on?”

Your heart nearly stopped and you knew the guards, as stupid as they were, would notice the silence soon enough. Swirling back to the young girl, you did not wait for her response before you hoisted her into your arms and put her into the escape passageway. Thankfully, the girl had the sense to remain quiet despite her obvious trepidation as she waited in the dark for you to climb in after her. Once you had, you closed the painting as quietly as you could just as you heard the office being raided.

It was only a matter of time before they would see Vince unconscious and venture into his bedroom beyond. You had to move, and fast.

“Come on,” You urged, finding the girl’s hand in the dark and tugging her down the passageway. As you moved down a flight of stairs, you pressed the small button on your metal bracelet, releasing a soft glow of light bright enough to illuminate your next steps and banish the girl’s fear of the dark.

“Will they find us?” She panted, her small hand gripping yours tightly.

“They shouldn’t,” You replied, your eyes straining into the dark beyond the small glow of your bracelet as you took turns and twists and more passages to the depths of the compound, “Vince only told me about the passage.”

Even though that should have eased the girl’s tension, her grip on your hand did not relax. It took a few minutes of deep silence before she finally spoke again.

“You really were his favorite,” She breathed, a certain tremor in her voice. You could practically feel the weight of her large eyes burning into the side of your face.

For some reason, her words knocked you on your ass. This young girl knew who Vince Hanon was before she was taken by him, and she knew enough to have heard about you. Was this how the galaxy saw you? As Vince Hanon’s adopted daughter?

The thought made you shudder.

“Why did you betray him for me?” She asked into the thick silence, and a pang shot through your chest.

Your feet faltered, and you stopped the breakneck pace you’d been going at. With a trembling breath, you turned and looked back at the young child. The light from your bracelet lit up the contours of her face, the tear stains etched into her skin and the trauma haunting her young, innocent gaze.

“Because I was you a long time ago.” You swallowed, sudden tears swimming in your gaze as you took in the small child who nearly met such a cruel fate, “Because Vince saved me, and there was no one to save you.”

The words stung some deep, confused part of your chest. A part of you would always…be indebted to Vince. He was the holder of your chains, the destroyer of your moral compass, the tyrant of your life. But, no matter how much you tried to forget it, he saved you. He saved you when your own father would not, and he raised you as his own.

Some twisted part of you would always pity him, even though you knew you shouldn’t.

That’s why, without a word, you smiled sadly at the girl before turning and leading her the rest of the way out of the passage.

|||

The entire city was on high alert.

Moments after the girl and you emerged from the escape passageway and into a back alley miles from the compound, you heard the shouts and the sirens in the distance. Vince had run this city with an iron fist, he did not tolerate betrayal and the people knew that. But now, the King of Crime had been crossed by his own Prodigy.

Every goon he had working for him was now hunting for you.

Doors were shut and windows locked. The streets were empty and the last few stragglers were in no rush to speak to anyone they did not have to. Even now, only a few minutes after the crime had been announced publicly, Vince’s guards swarmed the streets, pounding on doors and demanding entry for searches.

“They’re everywhere,” The young girl you saved panted as you sprinted with her down back alleys and through abandoned shops, “Where will we go?”

“I still have some friends,” You assured in response, stopping suddenly at the back door of a normal, unassuming home miles down from where Vince’s guards were searching. Without pausing to explain to the girl, you pounded your fist desperately against the door. There was a rush of steps before an old, hoarse voice called out.

“We are closed to visitors right now. Come back later.”

“It’s me,” Is all you said in response.

The old fashioned door swung open almost instantly. You had to squint against the sudden flood of light until you could just make out the older woman who stood in the doorway peering down at you and the girl with calculating eyes. She swung her gaze between the terrified child and you before she finally let out a long sigh.

“You finally did it,” She mused, catching your gaze with a knowing look.

“He asked something of me I couldn’t do,” You informed, trying to sound detached even though your entire heart was upon your sleeve, “And I need your help.”

Behind the old woman, children zoomed back and forth of all species and ages. They laughed and played jovially, unaware of the chaos outside. This place was an Orphanage, one you visited quite often with what little money you had left after Vince’s paychecks. You never allowed the Orphanage Keeper to tell you her name for her own sake, but she’d made it clear that she would be at your service should you ever need it.

You needed it now.

The Keeper looked down at the young girl who still held your hand in a tight grip and hummed, “She’ll fit right in, the guards won’t even know the difference.”

Relief broke over you, and you turned from The Keeper to stoop down in front of the confused child.

“What’s happening?” The young girl interrogated, her voice quivering.

“This place is safe for you, The Orphanage Keeper will take good care of you. She’ll make sure you find a home and lead a normal life.”

She caught on to your tone quickly, realizing you were going to leave her here. She began to shake her head and back up from the doorway, “No, you can’t leave me. Please don’t leave me!”

Your heart shattered. Those words had haunted your own soul since you were just as old as she is. They’ve bounced around in your memories in ways you’ll never be able to put into words. To hear them come from her…Tears you did not try to hide fought their way to your gaze as you grasped the young girl’s shoulders.

“They won’t look for you, they’ll be too busy hunting me. As long as you’re near me, you will not be safe,” You explained, smiling sadly at the girl and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, “We’ll see each other again, I just know it”

The girl sniffled, but nodded and slowly stepped away from you. The Keeper smiled down at the child, extending her hand, “Come, little one. Go on inside, I’ll be in soon to show you where you’ll be staying.”

With one last look back at you, the young girl turned and walked into the Orphanage. You stood slowly, watching her retreat into the building of laughing children. When she didn’t look back to you after that, you knew that she’d survive, that she’d make it.

“I have a ship. It’s old and hasn’t been run in ages, but it’ll get you off-world.”The Keeper’s rushed words snapped you back to reality and you looked up at her. Nodding, you ran a hand through your hair and gathered yourself back together.

“Don’t go to the Outer Rim,” The Keeper continued, rummaging through the small compartment by the door before she pulled out a small bag, “He’ll look there first. Try Coruscant, it’s swarming with New Republic. Vince wouldn’t dare go there.”

You nodded swiftly, your mind swimming with the rising surrealness of the perilous situation. Before you could turn and leave into the dark of night, The Keeper stepped forward and pressed the small bag into your palm. With furrowed brows, you looked down to your hand to inspect the small gift. Realizing exactly what was inside, you gazed back up at the woman sharply with wide eyes.

“You can’t give this to me, I can’t take this. It’s too much,” You rambled, trying to push the bag of credits back to The Keeper. She simply closed her weathered hands around yours and pushed the bag back towards you with a smile.

“This does not even begin to make up for all of the support you’ve given me over the years,” She rasped, tears glistening in her eyes as she realized exactly what you already know.

This was goodbye. You would not see her again.

“Thank you,” You breathed, knowing if you spoke any louder you'd be choking on tears. You were thanking The Orphanage Keeper for more than the credits in your hand. Through the years, no matter what horrors you committed for Vince and his gang, this Orphanage always reminded you of the light that still flickered in your soul. It reminded you that you were good.

“May the Force be with you,” The Keeper blessed, and your heart squeezed at the unfamiliar words.

“And with you.”

Then you turned and ran into the night, leaving behind the light of the Orphanage and its Keeper for good. It wasn’t long before you made it to the ship The Keeper told you about, and it’s even less time before you’re shooting up into the atmosphere and leaving the planet behind. As you set the ship’s coordinates to Coruscant, your mind raced.

How far will Vince go to get you back? To repay your betrayal in blood as you knew he would?

Before you could even come up with an answer of your own, the bracelet on your wrist beeped with an incoming message. You extended your hand out before you, brows furrowed and pulse slowly picking up. The hologram that lit up in your palm knocked the breath from your lungs and sent your heart into a dangerous rhythm.

The crackling hologram was simple and straightforward, projected not directly towards you, but to every known crime syndicate member and bounty hunter.

It was a picture of your face, your lips turned up at the very edge in the beginning of a smile. The words below sealed your fate.

“Y/N Y/L/N—WANTED ALIVE

BOUNTY—2 MILLION NEW REPUBLIC CREDITS”

|||

The wind cracked like a whip against your skin as you ran.

“You can’t run forever!” The shrill, sardonic shout of the Hunter made your fear spike as you sprinted through the crowded streets of Coruscant.

You would think that a New Republic-crowded planet like this one would mean at least one bystander extended their help as you so clearly ran for your life. Even these citizens and their senators knew the price of your bounty, though, and they did not raise a finger to help you.

Probably the entire force of the Guild was after you considering how high Vince was willing to pay to get you back. With that high a bounty, odds were that no one was going to help you.

This particular Hunter was alone, a grateful difference from the last few that had come after you. Most had decided to come in groups and split the bounty, which made them much more difficult to elude considering you weren’t the stealthiest person alive.

You ran desperately through the crowd that parted for you. Eventually you’d have to go back into the peril of open, abandoned areas, so you took advantage of the crowd as much as you could. You could see the end of the crowd in the distance, though, and knew that it was only a matter of time before the chase was just you and the Hunter and a stretch of open space between.

As you shoved through the last of the crowd that had kept the Hunter from firing his stun shots, you heard his voice ring out through the air, “No more hiding, sweetheart!”

Your eyes scanned desperately for another way out, for an escape plan or any plan really. Not having much of a choice, you took a hard right and sprinted into an alley. As a show to your incredibly bad luck, you found it to be a dead end.

“Shit!” You panted, turning so fast on your heel that your shoes groaned against the pavement. You stumbled to a quick halt as you found the panting Bounty Hunter blocking your way out.

“Vince Hanon wants you alive,” He mused, a slow smile spreading across his lips, “He didn’t say how alive.”

The Hunter raised his stun blaster and fired, but you’re expecting it and have already dive-rolled to the side. The shot soared past you, crackling as it did, and you wasted no time to see how close it came before you were on your feet and charging at the Hunter. With a war cry, you shoved the Hunter with your entire body weight before he could get another shot out. He grunted as he crashed into the wall, leaving the exit open for you to sprint out.

You did so with a pounding heart, your mind racing to come up with as many plans as you can. You raced down the sparsely populated street, your mind speeding for a solution.

If I can just make it into an outlet, then I-

A crackling fire erupted in your back and exploded across the entirety of your body. With a cry of pain, you dropped to the floor and could barely move your head to see the blue energy crackling across your being. Your body convulsed under the stun shot, momentarily paralyzed.

No. No, no, no, no. This can’t be it.

The pounding of footsteps slowed as they approached your downed form. You looked up in rage and terror at the Bounty Hunter. He shoved his blaster back into its holster and shook his head down at you.

“What a pity,” He uttered, smiling that slick, nauseating smile again, “I was going to take it easy on you. But now?”

You thought quickly of everything you could offer the Hunter that was more valuable than two million credits. Desperation rang through you as you came up empty.

“Please,” Your voice shook pathetically at the last attempt to save yourself, and tears gathered in your eyes. You could feel your body slowly come back under your control and you slid back and away from the Hunter. You hated this, you hated begging for your life.

I can’t go back, was all you could think, I can’t let him have me again.

“I like it when you beg,” The Hunter mused, walking ever so slowly towards your downed, retreating form. He was taunting you, and you both knew it.

When he finally reached you, he crouched and grabbed you by your legs, sliding you towards him.

“No!” You bellowed, thrashing wildly in his grip as he pinned you with his weight, “You bastard! Let me go!”

All sense and reason had left you. Begging wasn’t going to work and it only made him happier, so you wouldn’t try it again. All you had left was a burning terror in your gut of what would happen if Vince got you back. So, you fought the Hunter with all of the fire you had left.

The first slam of his fist into your cheek made blood spray from your now-busted lip. He couldn’t secure both of your hands in time to stop you from clawing at his face. You couldn’t fight well, but you could do that. His shout of pain was music to your ears, but he quickly secured your fists with one hand and continued his onslaught with the other.

“Stupid bitch,” He panted between hits, making stars dance in your vision, “Barely worth the two million”

Those words shouldn’t have wounded you, but you couldn't stop the hurt that exploded in your chest. With unbridled emotions, you spit a mouthful of blood up at the Hunter. He reared back in disgust, wiping your blood off of his face and peering down at you in pure hate.

“Just for that,” Is all he said as he pulled out the stun blaster. Your eyes widened a fraction and you could barely turn your cheek to brace for impact when the sound of a blaster exploded through the air.

But it never hit you.

Suddenly, the weight of the Hunter on you slid off and you turned your head up to see him crumpling to the ground with a burning hole in his chest.

Pure dumb luck.

Hope bursted through you as you scrambled to your feet and delivered an extra kick to the corpse, spitting more of your blood down on him before wiping it off your mouth with the back of your hand. You glanced up, looking around curiously for the one who fired and saved you.

Your gratitude died when your eyes found him.

The world slowed to an almost stop as panic, real and true, constricted your chest. Shining, dark silver beskar gleamed at you in the burning afternoon sunlight. He stood like an angel of death not thirty paces from you. You knew who he was, everyone knew who he was in your line of work.

The Mandalorian. Perhaps the best Bounty Hunter in the Guild, and the most ruthless.

He wasn’t saving you, he was taking your bounty for himself.

You stumbled back, your entire body aching but your mind screaming at you to go, run!

The Mandalorian began to stalk towards you and you turned, breaking out into a desperate run. You could only limp, though, and you knew he’d be upon you before you could stop him. You glanced back as you continued your pathetic excuse for a run, and your heart missed a beat when you saw he had almost caught up to you. Turning your head back forward, tears swam in your vision.

No, your mind repeated again and again and again, No, no, no

You couldn’t outrun him, you couldn’t outsmart him, you couldn’t overpower him. You were done. You were done, and the desperation in your chest revealed that you knew it.

Your exhaustion almost overpowered your adrenaline and you stumbled into the wall of a nearby building, bracing yourself against it as you tried to keep moving. Practically feeling his domineering presence behind you, your eyes searched the building’s edge for a weapon. The best you could find was an abandoned speeder wrench. You grasped the long tool in your trembling hand and whipped around, swinging the wrench with all of the strength you had left.

Your heart faltered as the Mandalorian caught your wrist with ease, looking down at you with that emotionless, daunting helmet of beskar. His grip was tight, but not bruising, on your wrist, and you dropped the wrench. You watched his free hand grab a small device on his weapons belt, and you knew immediately it was some sort of stunning device similar to the other Hunter’s.

“Don’t do this.” You knew your plea fell on deaf ears, but you had to try, “Please don’t do this, I can’t go back.”

His head tilted down at you, but he didn't say a word. The warmth of his hand seeped through the gloves he wore and burned into your skin as he held your wrist. A tear slipped down your cheek, searing its path across your skin. You could feel yourself give up.

You’d been running alone for nearly a week and had barely slept a combined total of three hours. Your body couldn’t take anymore, your soul can’t take anymore.

“Just kill me,” You suddenly begged, another tear slipping down, “If you’re gonna bring me in, just kill me. Please kill me, please.”

This seemed to stun the Mandalorian, because his grip on your wrist loosened slightly. The hand holding the stun device stalled and you heard him take in a breath.

“What?” The word was so simple and so low that you almost missed it, but the rumble of his gruff, modulated voice struck to your very chest. There was something in that voice…something you couldn’t quite place.

Something that made you think he might honor your request, that he might listen.

“Kill me,” You pleaded again, bringing the hand he didn’t hold to press against his beskar chest plate, “Don’t let him have me alive, I’d rather die. Please kill me,”

There was a charge in the air between you two that confused you, and you blamed it on the delusions your panic was causing. With his hand still holding your wrist and your hand on the cool metal plating his chest, you practically leaned all of your exhausted weight onto him. You could barely stand anymore, and you shut your eyes, turning your head and waiting for his killing blow.

Death was better than Vince Hanon.

You waited and waited and waited, but the blow never came.

“I’m not going to kill you,” The Mandalorian murmured, his voice like gravel and deceivingly soothing to your soul. Pure desperation makes another tear slip down your cheek as you open your eyes that are so, so tired.

“No,” Is all you could make out, lifting your exhausted gaze to his helmet.

“I’m not gonna turn you in, either.”

His words sent a shot of confusion through your soul.

“What?” You breathed, your brows furrowed.

“I won’t turn you in,” The Mandalorian repeated, his voice sounding just as confused as you, but with an edge of a vow that made you believe him.

“Thank you,” You mumbled, the adrenaline that had kept you awake for nearly an entire week seeping out of your system, “Thank you”

It probably was not smart, but you couldn’t stop your body from giving in to the need to sleep. You collapsed, your eyes slipping shut and your mind already shutting down into that blissful abyss of rest. As your body slipped to the floor, you felt strong, warm arms catch you. Suddenly, you felt yourself being lifted and pressed into cool metal.

“I’ve got you,” The Mandalorian vowed, his voice uncertain but his soul remembering what it felt like trying to turn in the Child when he first hunted him down, “I’ve got you.”

The Mandalorian held your sleeping form close to his chest as he walked past the outskirts of the busy Coruscant town and near the shipyard where the Crest awaits. To be completely honest, he didn’t know what he was doing. He needed those credits, and it had been all too easy to find you considering how many Hunters were on your trail.

Din stood there in the shadows of an alleyway, watching that Hunter take you down and approach your convulsing body. He watched with a blaster raised, ready to take the Hunter out and then claim your bounty instead. Din watched as you fought like a hellcat to be free, watched you spit your blood up at the Hunter.

When he took out the Hunter, he wasn’t entirely sure if he’d done it to claim your bounty himself or save your life.

As he followed your limping form easily, not even having to run to catch up with you, he was so sure he’d collect your bounty. He had convinced himself he would, even after that familiar nagging of his conscience began.

Then Din caught you, and you begged for death.

Never before had a bounty done that, at least if he didn’t torture them for information first. Yet here you were, begging for death. Din had felt like a sort of Reaper as you sobbed and pleaded for your end, and suddenly he could not understand how the Reaper managed to fulfill those pleas.

In that moment, peering into your tear-filled eyes and seeing the desperation, the fear that wasn’t directed at him, Din couldn’t do it. He couldn't kill you, and he sure as hell couldn't turn you in to Vince Hanon.

So now here he was, carrying you to his ship with the intent of helping you escape.

It was stupid, Din knew that. He shouldn’t be doing this, he should have left you there on the street to fend for yourself. This wasn’t his problem. You weren’t his problem.But he just couldn’t. It was his biggest weakness, and everyone knew it. First with the kid, and now with you. Even now he couldn’t think of leaving you to fend for yourself, not as he looked down at your sleeping form cuddled into his chest as if you had never been held before.

Maybe you hadn’t, just as he hadn’t in a long while.

Ultimately, that was why Din let you cling to him in your oblivious sleep when he would have shoved almost anyone else off.

And it was in that moment that Din Djarin knew he was screwed.

|||

When you woke up, you didn’t recognize your room.

For a moment you stayed perfectly still, knowing that your memories would supplement the answer eventually. As you sat up slowly, you took in the cot you lay upon in the small room.

A ship, you determined.

That’s when the events of when you were awake came rushing back—the Bounty Hunter on Coruscant, nearly getting caught, the Mandalorian.

The Mandalorian…saving your life.

Why would a Bounty Hunter save you?

Instantly, doubt began to creep into your mind. Reason took over for desperation now that you were rested and in a Bounty Hunter’s ship. The Mandalorian was one of the best in the Guild, he would have said anything to get you onto his ship. He had to be on his way to Vince right now.

With a wary mind, you got off of the bed slowly. You tried to be as silent as possible, but failed horribly, as you crept out of the small room you were just sleeping in. As the door to the room slid open, you were met with the hull of a ship. It was relatively clean, but had small clusters of scrap metal and assorted belongings in corners of the room. To your right, as you glanced up, was a ladder leading to what had to be the cockpit.

He was probably up there right now.

Your breath was shallow, but you took your time to scan the ship warily. You paused upon a good-sized metal cabinet in the back. If there were any weapons in this ship, that’s where they would be. You walked up to the cabinet quietly, looking back towards the ladder to make sure the Mandalorian wasn’t coming down. As your fingers reached towards it, your mind was racing with plans.

You’d never beat him in any sort of combat, but if you could sneak up and surprise-

A choked gasp broke out of your mouth as a strong hand grabbed your shoulder and flipped you around. In an instant, you were pressed up against the metal cabinet with a beskar-coated arm barring your throat hard enough to keep you in place, but not enough to cut off your air supply.

“You really think that was gonna work?” He ground out, cocking his head down at you. Your chest was heaving with breath as you looked up at him, desperately trying to look tough.

“Did you really think I was going to let you deliver me to Vince without a fight?” You rasped back, your eyes lit with fire as you stared into the abyss of that beskar helmet.

“Deliver you to-” The Mandalorian stopped his sentence, sounding almost disgruntled as his arm loosened at your throat, “I told you I wouldn’t. I keep my promises.”

“How do I know that?” You countered, suddenly trying to ignore the burning heat of his arm against your throat, even with his armor in the way, “How do I know you’re not gonna say anything to keep me docile before delivering me to him?”

The Mandalorian stopped for a moment, but even as he did your words felt wrong. A part of you, deep within your chest, knew you could trust him. But you were raised to trust no one, so you ignored the intuition and stood your ground.

There was a thick silence as you waited for his response, but it was anything but silent. You were all too aware of how close his body was pressed to yours, of the heat that radiated off of him and the charge in the air.

“If I wanted to turn you into Vince Hanon, you’d already be there,” The Mandalorian finally reasoned, stepping back from you and dropping his arm as if he too realized the intimacy of your position, “You slept for two and a half days, you can check if you think I’m lying.”

A part of you wanted to check just to spite him, but as much as you hated to admit it, you believed him. You stayed with your back against the metal cabinet and observed the Bounty Hunter.

“Where are we going, then?” You inquired, the skepticism heavy in your tone.

“Serenno.” His reply was short and clipped, but you still visibly reacted.

“Serenno?” You retorted, already shaking your head, “That’s Outer Rim. I won’t-”

The Mandalorian cut you off, taking only one menacing step towards you, but it was enough to make your words die.

“You tried the populated, New Republic planet and obviously that didn’t work for you. Vince probably has men crawling through that sector now, so the Outer Rim is our best bet.”

Our? The word came off of his tongue so naturally that it struck a chord deep in your chest. “I was advised to stay away from there. Vince has men patrolling for me there. Why would it be any better now?” You cut back.

“Because now you have me.”

He didn’t raise his voice, didn[t even sound pissed off, but there was something in his words that sent a chill running down your spine. An arrogant man would say those words carelessly, and you knew exactly what it sounded like coming from them. But The Mandalorian? He wasn’t arrogant. He was sure, and for reasons you didn’t want to unpack just yet, it made your heart miss half of a beat.

“If you’re gonna make it out of this, you have to trust me,” He followed up. You almost laugh.

“That’s not happening,” You quipped, but your eyes told a different story. You didn’t want to stroke his ego by telling him that he was already the most trustworthy person you’d met in years. “How are we going to make it out of this anyway?”

There it was again. We. Why had you said ‘we’?

“Only one way that I see,” The Mandalorian responded, turning from you and walking over to a corner of junk on his ship, “Kill Vince Hanon.”

He said it so casually, but it didn/t stop the words from choking you from within. That should have sat easily with you considering what he had almost made you do before you betrayed him. And yet, after everything, you couldn’t fully convince yourself you’d land a final blow if the time came.

There was a long silence, one that indicated the conversation was over. The Mandalorian turned to the ladder, ready to go back up to the Cockpit when you called out to him suddenly, almost desperately.

“Why are you helping me?”

He paused, his back to you as it had been for the last few minutes. He turned his head slightly in your direction, but didn't turn around.

“I don’t know,” He grunted out, then turned and went up the ladder.

He was lying, you knew it the second he spoke. Vince trained you to see tells, and you could see them even through his helmet. You didn’t have time to ponder why he really was helping you when another door near to the one you were sleeping in slid open.

You turned towards the noise, confusion and wariness springing up in your gut. You hadn’t known he had a crew, you had just assumed it was him alone in this ship.

So, considering that, surprise isn’t quite the right word to describe what flashed through you when you watched a child walk out of the room.

“What the-” You breathed, your words dying out on your own as the small, green toddler stopped outside of his room and looked up at you with massive, dark eyes.

Before you could even call out to the Mandalorian, you hear a rushed curse followed by the thud of his feet slamming against the ship’s flooring as he jumped from the ladder. Suddenly, the beskar-coated Bounty Hunter is storming over and scooping the child up into his massive arms.

“What are you doing out, kid?” He scolded softly, but even you could hear the tenderness in his voice—the mark of a father. At least, what you imagined a father would be like.

The child tilted his head up at the daunting, death-bringing Mandalorian and smiled, reaching out with his tiny hands out to the Hunter. You could hear The Mandalorian sigh in resignation, tucking the child close into his body, “You make it hard to be mad at you, kid. You know that?”

Watching this angel of Death, the Hunter who almost became your reaper, cuddle a small child to his chest with those hands scarred with blood and murder…you could feel your heart melting.

You knew instantly that you were in trouble, serious trouble.

The Mandalorian turned to you, holding the child close, “It seems I have a knack for sparing the bounties I’m given.”

Surprise skittered across your face as you took in the meaning in his words. Any small amount of doubt in your safety with this Mandalorian suddenly dissipated into ash. You’d never tell the Hunter that, but you couldn’t deny that his word was good. He said was going to help you, and that’s what he was going to do.

“Cute kid,” You managed to get out, not being able to stop the smile that grew onto your lips, “He’s lucky to have you for a father.”

The daunting, ever-stoic Mandalorian suddenly seemed to grapple with his words, and it takes more effort than you’d like to admit to keep the amused smile on your lips from turning into a laugh.

“I’m not his blood, I’m just watching out for him.” He finally settled on.

Something haunted and broken suddenly speared into your chest, and you knew from the way the Mandalorian’s back stiffened and head tilted that it passed across your face. With a smile that’s sad and built with years of heartache, you locked your gaze with the Bounty Hunter that spared you.

“A father isn’t always bound by blood,” You nearly whispered, breaking away from his gaze and reaching up to run a soft, caressing finger across the child’s large ear. He giggled, leaning into your touch. You smiled wider, this one less sad than before.

“He’s a lot to handle isn’t he?” You asked. The Mandalorian stiffened, seeming defensive.

“No. He’s actually-”

“I was talking about you, Mando,” You interrupted, looking away from the kid’s large eyes and up to the Mandalorian with a raised brow. He cocked his head down at you.

“Careful, I can still turn this ship around and take you to Vince,” He threatened, but you knew now that he never would. Somehow, you just knew that.

“Sure you will,” You taunted, smiling up at him before taking a step back from the kid who reached after you, “What’s your name anyways, Mandalorian? Or am I expected to call you Mando for the rest of our lovely time together?”

“Why would I give you that?” He asked, his voice like gravel and silk all at once. He was a siren and you were a sailor—blissfully doomed from the start.

“Because you already have mine,” You reasoned, alluding to the bounty he took on you, “It’s only fair.”

He paused for a moment that stretched on long enough for you to know that he wasn’t going to give it. You nodded in response, clicking your tongue “Mando it is.”

You turned, walking towards the ladder that led up to the cockpit. You made it up a few rungs when his voice stopped you.

“Din.”

You froze, taking a few seconds to comprehend what he just said. With your back to him, you didn’t stop the smile that grew onto your lips.

“Thanks for saving my ass, Din,” You called back, before continuing up the ladder. It was so soft that you almost missed it, but Din chuckled quietly to himself below. The sound traveled down your spine and turned your heart molten.

You definitely were in trouble.

Then again, you always loved trouble anyways.

|||

The sun hung low in the sky, slinging the last of its light across the tops of mountains and through the lush rainforests stretching between the settlements of Serenno. As you and Din left the Razor Crest in a clearing and trekked towards a nearby city, there was a smile you could not stop from breaking free.

It wasn’t long lasting, for the moment the illusion of peace settled over your shoulders, the Mandalorian’s words were quick to remind you of the truth.

“Stay close to me. Don’t wander off, don’t go anywhere on your own. Keep your eyes open, and if you see anything tell me.” His voice was low and even and perhaps the most daunting sound you’d ever encountered. There was something so dangerous in the smooth, controlled tone modulated by his mask. It almost made you nod in easy compliance.

“I think you’re forgetting I’m used to this life, Mando,” You insisted, walking harder than you’d like to admit to keep up with his pace as the two of you entered the city, “I don’t need you controlling my every step. I know how to take care of myself.”

“Yeah? That worked out so well for you on Coruscant.” Din fired back at you, his voice not even ratcheting up in volume an inch. He didn’t even look over at you as he sauntered down the main street of the city. As the two of you walked, every stare that slipped your way left just as swiftly when they caught sight of the Mandalorian.

“I survived longer on my own than most would. I’m not saying I don’t need your help, just that I’m not a child for you to boss around.”

That seemed to strike a chord in his chest as he suddenly stopped and grabbed ahold of your arm, tugging you to a stop so abruptly that you stumbled right into him. Din steadied you with a hand on either arm, holding you so close that you had to crane your neck up to meet his unflinching helmet peering down at you.

“You think you can make it without me? Go ahead, leave.” He growled, finally showing a touch of emotion in his voice. You lifted your chin to meet his gaze, trying to ignore that way your heart could not seem to find an easy rhythm this close to Din. His words sent ice shooting through your chest, but much to your surprise, you found fire dancing up to tangle with it. You didn’t know whether to be intimidated or infatuated with him in this moment, and that thought was what jolted you back to reality. You stayed silent in response, because you knew the truth.

You would be dead within hours without the Mandalorian.

“That’s what I thought,” Din gritted out, his eyes sweeping over your figure for another moment before he let you go and began to walk away, “Now come on. We need supplies.”

You followed hastily, your eyes scanning the city for signs of hunters tracking you. As you struggled to think of anything besides the impact of Din’s words on you, Din stormed as far ahead of you as he could without leaving you completely behind. All the while, Din was trying to shove down the relief that you hadn’t taken his words seriously and left. The words had come out of his mouth, but within, Din had been begging you to see through the lie that they already were.

What terrified Din most was that he had practically just met you and yet he knew exactly what you could become to him should he not be careful. It was a fact that was hard to ignore when he looked at you and realized that you were the sun and him the moon—a mere reflection of the beauty before him.

Din shook his head to rid the thought, but to no avail. Instead, he grew grumpier and tried to increase the space between the two of you.

Trying to diffuse the tension, you jogged up to stay close to the Mandalorian and sighed, “So, what do we need to get?”

“Food, blankets, ammunition, anything else we’ll need to camp out here for a while,” Din responded. And, without even looking over at you, he spoke again.

“And we need to get you new clothes.”

You scoffed in surprise, looking down at your bloody and torn clothes. He was right, but it didn’t make you any less angry about it. You stormed after him, your fists clenched.

“You’re one to talk, Mando.” You retorted, catching up to him in time to hear his low chuckle. Immediately, your poor, unknowing heart stumbled at the sound and you found yourself once again, unable to be angry with the Bounty Hunter.

“That was a joke,” You realized, looking over at Din with surprised eyes, “Since when do you make jokes?”

He didn’t respond to that, just kept leading the way deeper into the town, “Get a move on, trouble. Can’t spend too long in town considering your luck.”

You followed with a small smile on your lips. It took hours to gather all that you needed to camp out on Serenno, and when Din finally began to turn and head back to the Crest, you almost cried in relief. Your arms ached with all of the wares you helped carry, and you were well past the exit of the city when Din finally began to explain to you the plan.

“We’ll hide out here for now. It’s quiet enough,” He assured, the Razor Crest coming into view as the two of you delved into the dense rainforest just before the clearing where it was parked, “Once we come up with a solid plan to take out Vince, we’ll move.”

Once again, the notion of ‘taking out’ the Zeltron who raised you struck you harder than it should have. You were able to hide it earlier, but as you exited the last of the trees obscuring the Crest, Din did not miss the way you went uncharacteristically silent. He didn’t say anything at first, and you thought he might let it go. As the two of you boarded the Crest and dropped the supplies onto the floor, the kid walked out of the room his crib sat in and looked up at you with wide, excited eyes. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Hello there,” You cooed, stooping down and picking him up, “Glad to see you missed me already.”

The child giggled in response, babbling some nonsense that you couldn’t quite understand. You felt the Mandalorian’s presence before you saw him, especially with how the attention of the child immediately switched to over your shoulder. You turned, not even meeting Din’s stare as you handed him his kid. The little one went happily, grabbing onto his caretaker as if he were anything but a feared Bounty Hunter. You smiled at the child before turning and walking with the clothes Din had bought you to your makeshift room to change. Before you could make it in, though, his voice called out to you.

“You don’t want to kill him.” Not a question, a statement.

So much for that.

Confliction tearing through you, you turned around and faced the Mandalorian and his child once again. Your eyes darted from the Mandalorian’s beskar helmet to the small child he held so close in his arms, and then back again. You could do little to hide the brokenness lingering in your gaze.

“I know it’s wrong,” You whispered, not fully understanding why you were being so vulnerable with this stranger, “I hate him. It should be easy to want him dead. It would solve all of my problems. But…”

The words you couldn’t say spoke just as loudly in silence as they would have in the air.

For a moment, you feared Din would push the matter and force the truth of your past out. Instead, he sighed and set down the kid, “Get changed. I’ll have a meal ready when you’re done.”

And that was that. He turned and walked away, going to do as he said. You stared for a moment in surprise that quickly shifted into a deep gratitude that spilled into your aching chest cavity. Din hadn’t forced you to say anything. He’d seen you were uncomfortable and he had let it go.

This Mandalorian was not who you thought he was, who he looked to be at first glance. With every passing day you spent with him, you realized your first impression could not have been further from the truth. With every day, you were proven more wrong about him in the best way possible.

And with every day, you wished you weren’t wrong at all.

Because how were you supposed to leave him in the end if you kept finding reasons to want to stay?

|||

It had now been weeks since you’d joined Din and the two of you had settled on Serreno.

In order to continue funding living while the two of you grappled with the best way to stop Vince and his bounty on you, Din had taken up a few smaller, low-profile bounties. He was careful not to pick up anything too forward since Vince had most likely noted by now that the two of you were together considering the debacle of Coruscant all those weeks ago.

And every time he went on a hunt, you found a way to join him.

At first, it was surprisingly easy to convince the Mandalorian to let you accompany him on his hunt. You’d claimed it was for your safety and that it was best to be with him whenever you could. After the first few, though, Din grew reluctant to let you come. He now considered the hunts more dangerous than staying in the Crest with the Child. You were running out of excuses to go with him, because you would not dare tell him the truth.

You wouldn’t dare to imagine the pity spreading across his face beneath that daunting mask that had become almost home to you when he found out the truth. In the time you’d spent together, you had fallen into a sort of routine. Wake up, plot and plan, go into town for hunts, execute those hunts. He’d taught you basic combat skills, his gloved hands leaving traces of fire where they corrected your form, and Din had even begun to eat in front of you, just lifting up the bottom of his mask to do so and allowing you to see his strong jaw and lips.

Those lips would haunt you night after night in dreams you could no longer control. To put a long story short, you’d grown attached. Hopelessly attached. And now, you couldn't help but be terrified of him leaving and not returning.

Just as your parents had all those years ago.

The fear was irrational and you knew it. Din was a man of his word and he’d promised you he would see you through this bounty and so you knew that he would. And yet, with the attachment that had grown rather quickly between the two of you, so too grew a fear of losing someone you lo-

Your thoughts stalled on the next word, and with a bolt of butterfly-filled fear in your gut, you amended the word.

Care for. A fear of losing someone you care for.

After all, if your parents—the only people in the galaxy who were meant to love you unconditionally—could leave you, so could the Mandalorian.

Your thoughts were once again interrupted by the sound of Din walking out of his chambers, adjusting a piece of his beskar armor. He struggled with the piece, cursing it out roughly beneath his breath as an amused smile traipsed onto your lips.

“Need some help?” You called out, lifting an eyebrow at him. His gaze snapped to yours and he huffed.

“No,” He rumbled. You hummed, standing to your feet and walking over to him.

“Sure you don’t.” You did not wait for him to object as you grabbed his shoulders and shoved him down into a chair nearby and began to work on the beskar shoulder plate.

“I can do it,” Din informed rather defeatedly.

You laughed softly, “I know you can, big guy.”

Your fingers worked with the plate of metal until you realized he had strapped it on wrong. Swiftly and deftly, you removed it and were just about to replace it when you noticed a jagged cut in his shirt beneath. The cut revealed a patch of tanned skin with an equally long and jagged cut on it that was now red and inflamed. You sucked in a breath sharply.

“What the hell Din? Why didn’t you mention you got hurt on the hunt yesterday?” You pressed, quickly setting down the beskar plate and rushing for a med kit, “It’s probably infected by now!”

“I can barely feel it,” Din defended, but surprisingly stayed in the chair as you grabbed the kit you were looking for and jogged back over to him, “Besides, I was going to put some bacta spray on it later and-”

“Bacta, really?” You cut in, shaking your head at the bounty hunter, “Is that your solution to everything? Put bacta on it?”

He shrugged, “Worked so far.”

Shaking your head, you grumbled your disapproval as you peeled back his shirt to see the extent of the laceration on his arm. Noting that it wrapped around slightly to the front, you moved to stand before the seated Mandalorian to get a better access to the cut. As your fingers danced along the injury, his skin was impossibly hot to your touch.

Because of a fever, you convinced yourself as you opened the med kit and looked around for a surface to set it down on. Noticing your search, Din patted his lap with his hand.

The movement made you actually stutter for a moment. It was a harmless offer, but the sight of it sent shockwaves tumbling through you. With a clouded mind, you set down the med kit on his thigh on the side opposite to his injured arm. He kept the kit braced with his free hand as you stepped between his legs to get closer to his injured arm.

You wished you could say that you didn’t even notice the position as you began to apply disinfectant to the cut, but it seemed to be the only thing on your mind. Din’s body heat bolted into you with how close you were to him and the scent of his soap that still lingered along his body dizzied your mind and reminded you of star-filled nights and rustling trees.

As you looked away from the injury and to the med kit, you grabbed the stitching needle and expertly began to suture his cut closed. You threaded the first stitch through his skin swiftly and without warning, making him suck in a sharp breath before you and instinctively grab onto your lower waist with the hand not bracing the med kit.

You gasped softly at the unexpected contact and looked down, an apologetic look crossing your distracted, breathless features, “Sorry, should’ve warned you.”

Din shook his head, clearing his throat, “No, I’m good. Keep going.”

Yet his hand lingered on your waist.

As you began to stitch up his cut, every free part of your mind was centered on that large, strong hand that rested ever so lightly on your waist. When you were about halfway through the stitch, the tense silence was finally broken.

“Where did you learn how to do all this?” Mando asked, his voice sounding ever so slightly strained.

“Whenever Vince’s fighters would come back from missions, I’d help patch them up where I could. Our healer trained me in a few vital skills while he worked,” You narrated, your voice airy and light as your fingers worked with the needle, “I was always good with the difficult cases because I’d tell them stories while we worked and it kept them distracted. I never could fight well, but I sure as hell could talk.”

“I know you can,” Din mumbled, making a surprised laugh break through you. You looked down at him, peering into the dark reaches of his beskar helmet that looked up at you.

“Careful teasing me, Mando. I’m the one with a needle in your arm.”

He released a low, soft laugh and his hand on your waist tightened the smallest bit. That was the end of the conversation, but it was the beginning of something else entirely. No longer did your attraction live chiefly in your dreams plagued with beskar and a voice so alluring it haunted you. You were awake, and you were sure you’d never been awake until this moment.

It was too much—the attraction, the tension, the dependency you were beginning to build up for him.

Din Djarin was like the hit of a drug or a breath of sweet air or the touch of nectar to the tongue—now that you’d known him, felt him, heard his laugh, you could never want for anything but him and it would never be enough until you had more.

“All done,” You whispered, putting the med kit back together and closing it. With the wound dressed and his beskar plate in place, Din stood from his perch before you could step back. The hand he had at your waist stayed there for a moment, keeping you from running away.

With his hulking presence before you and the way he peered down at you silently through his beskar helmet, you nearly forgot your own name. Your breaths were shallow and your heart raced in its cage of bones. Standing there, looking up at Din with your chest almost touching his, you knew.

You knew that when this was over, you couldn’t leave him. You wouldn’t leave him. You were suddenly unaware of how you’d gone the entirety of your life without him, let alone how you’d continue it after this was over. You felt as if Din was tethered to the breath in your lungs, the beat of your heart, the firing of your thoughts.

And for the life of you, you could not figure out how such a deep, ardent connection had taken root in your soul for someone you’d only known for a few months. It did not make sense, and somehow that was the beauty of it. These feelings were not explainable or rational, they were anything but. And that thrilled you just as much as it made you frightened that he’d walk out the door just like your parents had.

You wouldn’t recover from it this time.

“Din-”

You were cut off by the sound of the small, green child waddling up to the two of you and babbling something you could not understand. As if a knife had quartered down the moment between Din and you, the both of you stepped back instantly. His hands left your waist and yet you could still feel the phantom of their touch.

Din sighed as he stooped down and gathered the kid in his arms, “I know kid, we gotta get you something to eat.”

“I swear that child has the largest appetite,” You mused, a smile lighting your lips as you looked at the vulnerable youngling in the rough, intimidating arms of the Mandalorian.

For a moment, you wondered what it felt like to be in his arms, held close and safe like that.

“What are we gonna do with him for the hunt this afternoon?” You inquired, turning and securing the blaster Din had gotten you onto your belt, “And don’t even start the lecture on how we should be getting serious about our Vince planning. I know it seems like I’m being avoidant but if I just had a little more time then…”

You allowed your voice to trail off when you noticed the different kind of silence filling the crest. With furrowed brows, you turned to see Din tucking in the child to his crib. A sigh sounded from his modulator as he stepped back and checked his weapons, not even being able to look up to your gaze.

“Din?”

He paused, and the silence made your stomach twist. Finally, he looked up at you, “I need to do this hunt alone.”

For a moment, your brain would not grasp to compute the words, “What?”

“This is a dangerous one, and I’d feel better if you were here keeping the kid safe until I have it done.”

It took every ounce of your energy to restrain the panic that immediately roared to life in response to the trauma-triggering words. The timing could not be worse for this conversation, not when you’d just been reminiscing on how haunted you were that he would walk just like your parents had.

You managed to keep your face void of the telling emotions brewing within and shook your head, “Don’t be silly, Mando. If it’s really that dangerous, then I’ll just come with you.”

“No,” He urged, his voice stronger this time as he took a step closer to you, “I need you and the kid safe. I can’t ensure that if you’re out with me on a hunt like this.”

“I can hold my own,” You argued, trying and failing to keep the desperation from leaking into your voice, “I’ll just go with you and-”

“It is not safe for you out there. Vince’s bounty on your head keeps ratcheting up and everytime you leave this ship, your chances of being caught grow. I cannot risk that.” Din cut in, and even though he was grappling to keep the intense worry within his gut from spilling out, you were hopelessly battling the trauma-ingrained panic of what his words meant to you.

He might have been looking out for your safety, but your irrational mind was already jumping to conclusions and you could not stop it. After all, Din had no ties to you besides a promise built on a foundation of good will and blind trust. What would really stop him from finding another ship and leaving you here? The Razor Crest was an aging ship anyways, and he had more than enough credits for an upgrade.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Mando assured, walking past you and towards the hatch that was now lowering and opening to the outside, “It shouldn’t take me all night, but if it does, don’t come hunting for me. I can’t risk you being caught.”

“Din, please don’t-”

Your words died as he walked down the hatch and off into the mid afternoon light.

“Please don’t leave me,” You whispered to yourself.

If he’d spared just one moment to look at your face, Din would have seen the anguish there. He hadn’t looked, though, because something had changed so fundamentally within the bounty hunter when he’d stood so close to you just moments ago.

Din had peered down at you, taking in the beauty of your face and your very soul, and had realized the extent of what he’d do for you. More accurately, Din had realized that there were no limits to what he’d do, give, endure to ensure your safety. He’d always been a natural protector, but this was different. You were different. And Din knew that one more look into your haunted eyes would have him setting course for whatever shithole Vince Hanon lived in and slaughtering him just so you could live with a peace of mind.

So Din kept walking, and left you in the Crest. He left you, not knowing that you did not believe he’d come back. He left you, unaware that you were already beginning to fray with the lies your mind was bellowing down upon you.

He left you, and all you could think about was what would happen if you never saw him again.

#din djarin angst #din djarin #din djarin oneshot #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #fluff #angst #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin fluff #din djarin x female reader #din x reader #star wars #mando x reader #din djarin x f!reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

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dontexpectmuch · 1 year

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Wifey, i have an idea. Imagine Jude being so in love with his gf who has never seen snow before? He adores her so much that he secretly prays that it snows every day and they just play together like little kids do :(((((

Yes i’ve never seen snow. Fulfill my dream please 🧍🏻‍♀️

it seemed like sitting still on the couch was impossible for jude, shaking his leg, rubbing his hands together, getting up to look outside and then going back to sit on the couch was all he did for the past twenty minutes.

they said it would snow, just be patient, was what he kept telling himself over and over again, trying his best to keep his hopes up.

jude just really, really wants to experience your first snow together, he wants to see you all cuddled up in your big jacket and long scarf with your hat covering half of your face. you’d look so cozy, he thinks, it would be cold yet you would radiate your usual warmth mixed with excitement.

22:46. and still no snow. you must be in bed already, he thinks and the thought of yet another day of no snow made jude groan in frustration, angry at the weather forecast even if it primarily wasn’t their fault.

he got up from his spot, almost feeling stupid for spending his entire day in the living room while looking out of the window. he could’ve just spent the time with you, but you had some work left and told him to meet up tomorrow instead.

after his night routine and kissing his mums forehead good night, jude finds himself laying in his bed, phone in his hands as he checks up on your for the last time before also closing his eyes to get rest.

‘still no snow :(‘ he sends you the message, his face subconsciously mimicking the emoji that he used.

your reply came in seconds later, ‘komm schon jude! it’s fine, tomorrow will be better :)’

‘hopefully. i love you, good night’

‘love you too!’, jude could hear your happy voice in his head, the one that always tries to stay positive when he feels sad or hopeless. you really did always lift him up when he needed it the most.

sighing for the last time that day, jude puts his phone away and covers himself with his blanket, praying internally for a better day when he wakes up.

jude thinks he is dreaming as he feels something shake his body rapidly and just waves it off, trying to concentrate on the ball on his feet. at first it was faint, almost inaudible, then the volume increased until he finally heard his name being called out repeatedly.

“jude! c’mon you grandpa, it’s happening! get up, will you?!” your voice appeared next to his ear, straddling jude as he shots up, eyes wide as he looks at you in disbelief.

“dude, what are you doing here!” he exclaimed, heart beating fast as he tries to understand the situation.

“oh, wow.” you roll your eyes playfully, “i thought you’d be happy to see me first thing in the morning.”

now, jude grins, leaning forward on his hands as he kisses you on the cheek, “how about i show you how happy i really-“

shaking your head and pulling away from his touch, you cut him off, excitement entering your body again as you get up from your spot next to him, “no time for that, jude! get dressed! it snowed!”

“huh?”

jude looked around, noticing that his room was brighter than it usually was in the morning and when he looked out of the window, he couldn’t help but get out of his bed to get a closer look. there it was, his usual view of greenery now painted in white, children were playing outside, some elder people were shoveling their front porches.

“get dressed! i’ll be waiting outside!” you kiss his cheek for the last time and leave his room, getting impatient with how slowly jude moved around.

some minutes passed, maybe ten, but not a lot and now jude also stood outside, watching your happy figure create snow angels there, start to build a snowman here and just smiling at him whenever your eyes met.

jude always believed that you looked the best when you talked about something you were passionate about. though, it seems like he had to correct his ranking. excitement looked even better on you, your eyes shined like the moon when reflecting on the water, your smile warmes his insides like a nice hot chocolate after a day out in the cold.

if that is what you look like every time it snows, winter might just become his new favorite season of the year.

————————————

i am hungry, so, so hungry.

#football one shot #football x reader #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x reader #x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fluff #football

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vampcubus · 1 year

Note

Thinking of Little spoon/pampered tanjiro 🥹❤️

a/n: aye me too anon ❤︎

𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎

Tanjiro, who at the end of a long day craves nothing more than your warm body wrapped around him. His wine-colored hair has grown out, tickling your nose as you bury it into the fluffy mass. Your arms cradle him protectively, allowing his body to press into the curve of your own as he snuggles himself ever closer until his back is pressed flush to your chest.

You can feel all the tension melt from his body as you sneak a kiss to his nape. He releases a long sigh that melds into a yawn as he finally wills his eyes to fall shut.

Tanjiro is so used to caring for others that it feels odd to be cared for in return. His knees wobble when you brush his bangs from his forehead to kiss the scar there. He leans into your every touch like he’s starved for it.

He crumples under your loving gestures, barely able to keep the sighs of pleasure from slipping out when you wash his hair for him or roll the knots from his shoulders after a stressful mission.

He can’t sleep well unless he’s tucked himself against you. It’s to the point where he tosses and turns without the comforting weight of your leg over his hip, your soft breaths against his neck, and the compression of your arms surrounding him, cuddling him so impossibly close he can feel your heart thump thump thump against his back.

And when he startles awake gasping for air, the vivid images of a nightmare still fresh in his mind, you always feel it. He hears your breath hitch, the scent of concern filling the air and a hand feeling around for his own to still the trembling. He turns in your arms to bury his face into your neck, comforted by the soothing circles you rub into his back and the sweet nothings you whisper to him, voice still thick with sleep.

You spoil him so heavily that he fears how he’d function without you.

On hard days it seems you can’t quite swaddle him into your arms fast enough.

He’s just returned from a particularly grating mission, his head dropping onto your shoulder the moment he walks through the door.

“Please, hold me,” he murmurs into your neck, taking the knife you’d been using to chop vegetables and setting it aside. You swivel around and gather him up in your arms, a hand on the back of his head to guide his face back to your neck. He breathes in your comforting scent and sags further against you. It pins you between his body and the edge of the counter (which is less than comfortable), but you don’t even think to move.

“Bad day, Tanji?” you ask with knitted brows.

“Mm-hmm,” he rumbles in reply against your neck, the vibrations tickling you. “Missed you. Missed your arms around me.”

“I missed you too. Can hardly sleep without you in them.” You feel him smile against your skin at that, pleased to know you needed him just as much.

Some days he expects you to just know when he needs cuddles. He’s subtly dropping hints that he wants to be held but they keep going over your head. Tanjiro can’t help but feel frustrated. He gets all cozy in bed, leaving space for you to crawl in, giving you the eyes when you meet his gaze in the vanity mirror.

"Something you want, honey?" you tease and he pouts, turning his back to you dramatically and crossing his arms.

"Aren't you going to hold me?" he grumbles, and with that you can't resist sliding onto the futon and wrapping yourself around him like he wanted. It was rare for Tanjiro to be cross with you, but he was serious about his cuddles it seemed.

#‧₊🦇˚⊹ ashi writes #i saw this in my inbox and went !!! i need to write that #tanjiro kamado x reader #tanjirou kamado x reader #tanjiro x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #i'm so in love with him ok #kamado tanjiro x reader #kny headcanons

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misc-obeyme · 3 months

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Hello! (Forgot how to write an ask for a couple minutes)

For your Cozy Comfort Event, could I request a headcannon with Asmodeus with the hurt/ comfort genre?

Thank you! Your writing is always great!

Hello Syren! Thank you, I'm so glad you enjoy my writing!

Okay, I kinda think this turned out pretty okay?? I dunno I really got into it when I was writing so that's usually a good sign lol. I love hurt/comfort, I think I'm gonna write more of that.

Thanks for participating!

COZY COMFORTS EVENT

GN!MC x Asmodeus hurt/comfort headcanons

Warnings: just some angst at the beginning

Asmodeus is the Avatar of Lust and as such, he is known for his confidence and beauty. And yet there is one person with whom he loses all his charisma. You make him feel weak in a way he doesn't fully understand, like he wants to open his heart and expose every piece of it to you - even the parts he thinks are ugly.

It seems so impossible that there would ever be anyone who wasn't interested in him. He has always been able to be with whoever he wanted, simply because he is so desirable. He doesn't understand how to handle your seeming indifference.

Asmo isn't really the kind of demon who will turn to others for advice on love. Far more often, he's the one giving such assistance. But his brothers know you just as well as he thought he did. Asmo especially finds himself seeking Lucifer's advice when it comes to you. He simply doesn't know how you feel and it makes him crazy.

He gets the idea to talk to Solomon about human world courting rituals. It isn't like he hasn't seen them for himself, but maybe there's something more recent that he's missed. You don't seem to respond to his flirting the way he expects you to. You give him nothing but blank stares.

It occurs to him that you have feelings for someone else. He sees you reacting to others in ways he always hoped you'd react to him. His realization leads to a night of drinking Demonus alone in his bubble bath. He doesn't want to party, he wants to forget. He starts to feel too much like Lucifer, though. Eventually he switches gears and starts to focus even more on his appearance. Maybe he just isn't beautiful enough? As impossible as that seems, it must be true.

Asmo decides to act like it's nothing. He's content with just being your friend. He's happy to be beside you at all, even if his heart squeezes painfully every time you smile at someone else. Even if he gets a little shudder of butterflies any time you say his name. He can shove all of that down, can't he? He can hide it all away. He can keep it from you, let you believe that he's okay.

The truth is that he can't keep it in forever. He won't accept that. He'll pretend it isn't true. He'll keep trying until one day it all overflows and he's on his knees, clutching your hands and crying, telling you everything he's ever wanted you to know. The words tumble out of him. He can't take it anymore, MC. He loves you so much it hurts. He thought he could keep it in, but he wants you to see him. He wants you to know. He would do anything to make you happy, he would do anything to hold your heart. His words fade into sobbing, his head in your lap.

Asmodeus can't look at you. He's still crying, but it's slowed. After everything he just said, he can't even imagine looking up at you now. You didn't interrupt him, either. You let him say everything he needed to say. Then you let him collapse onto you and cry. He's afraid to move, afraid to speak again, afraid to look at you.

And then he feels your fingers in his hair. You whisper his name and it sounds like your heart is breaking. He keeps his face hidden as he listens to you tell him that you love him, too. You tell him how you believed he was too beautiful for you, how you thought he was completely out of your reach. How you were afraid to respond too readily to his flirting because it hurt too much. Because you didn't believe it was genuine.

He looks up at you, then. The idea that you might think he was just flirting with you because that's what he does with everybody makes him a little sick. You're crying, too, he sees, and he cups your face with his hands, wiping away your tears. Dearest MC. Don't you know that you're everything he's ever wanted and more? Please let him hold you, please let him protect you, please let him love you. He's desperate because he needs you to understand.

Somehow, he gets through to you. He can see it in your eyes. It takes some time, but he learns how to get you to smile. He reassures you whenever you start to question yourself. He showers you in all the love he'd been holding back and he makes sure you understand that you are more than worthy of it. Asmodeus shows you all his pieces and in exchange, you give him all of yourself.

cozy comforts | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #omnb #omswd #obey me headcanons #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #om asmodeus #om asmo #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me asmodeus x mc #om asmodeus x reader #om asmodeus x mc #obey me asmo x reader #om asmo x reader #misc cozy comforts #misc writes

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be-my-ally · 1 year

Text

Attention needed. (Jealous Elvis Request)

Dearest anon, darling, here you are! Apologies for the *slight* delay, work has kept me far too busy and tired this week - and also, I intended this to be a very quick 1-2k, and somehow that turned into 4k….so hopefully you enjoy!!! I found it a little hard to make it Jerry, who I can’t see knowingly flirting with Elvis’ girl, but I hope I did the prompt justice by making it a -teeny- bit of miscommunication.

pairing: afab!reader x elvis

summary: Reader wants Elvis’ attention, but he refuses to give it to her so she tries to make him jealous, going so far to cozy up with Jerry.

warnings: 18+, jealous!elvis, physical altercation b/t elvis + jerry (not with reader), oral sex (elvis receiving), hurt/comfort with slightly injured!elvis.

wc: 4.4k (whoops)

You hate when he ignores you like this. It’s worse because you know it's calculated, intentional. It’s not just that he’s busy recording, or messing around with the other guys (although he is) but he’s toying with you, in his twisted version of flirting, playing with you. The trouble is that the rules to his games never get shared with you. You’re left guessing how to react, or what his aim is - does he want you to fight him? Argue until you’re forced to be “taught a lesson”? Submit - simply allow him to do whatever, ignoring both your heart and brain? Or some strange, acceptable combination of the two? It seems to change every time, and it’s impossible to guess his reactions at the best of times, let alone when he’s intentionally trying to keep you unbalanced. And it is, certainly, intentional.

It has to be intentional; his determined actions to ignore your glances over at him, ignoring you lingering in the doorway of the recording studio, your hand on his thigh in the car. In fact he’d brushed you off, not in a malicious way, but in a - I’m talking to my boys and having fun and moved my leg and didn’t even realise you were there - way. Which in some ways annoys and hurts you more; because you can’t wholeheartedly accuse him of doing it on purpose, and to bring it up would imply that you don’t want him to have fun with his friends, which of course you do.

So, it has been building the whole day, leading to where you are now. Sulking on the edge of the bed, as you hear him play-fighting with the other ‘boys’ outside, although you can’t see them - its summer and it’s warm enough that the windows are open, but even with the curtains drawn it’s too dark to see. It was late, Elvis’ schedule didn’t conform to trivial things like day and night. So, despite the lateness of the hour, it’s only just coming up on dinner time. He’ll be up in a moment to change - it’s not required for any reason, it’s just family tonight - no-one special to impress, or photographs to be taken but he still likes to look his best. Especially considering he’ll be undoubtedly rumpled and muddy from their roughhousing. All you can think is that you don’t care to think of him looking his best, you just want him to really look at you. See what you’re trying to communicate with him.

You hate how he makes you feel like it’s you who’s lacking, or who has to put in the extra effort. But still you do it - it annoys the hell out of you but you still do it. You’ve changed into a little powder blue set, teased your hair up high - just how he likes, determined to get his attention back. Your intention, is to make him look at you, force his attention onto you, which means a grand entrance. Which means that you’ll have to hide when he comes up to change and allow him to go downstairs alone before following. He won’t be able to ignore you coming in by yourself. You roll your eyes internally, at the ridiculous lengths you go to for him. When you hear them all coming into the house you dive into your little dressing room, locking the door behind you. You can hear him humming to himself - as he thuds about the bedroom, you can hear the closet door opening and closing and the water running in his bathroom as he gets himself ready and then, a few minutes later, his quick footsteps as he hurries out and back down the stairs. It’s what you wanted, but you can’t help but be annoyed that he didn’t even attempt to look or call for you.

The annoyance grows, as you wait, when he doesn’t come himself or send someone to get you for dinner, forgetting in your sheer annoyance that he has no idea where you were. You head down the stairs after a few minutes had passed, you can hear the noise of the dining room as soon as you leave the cushioned sound proofing of his upstairs suite. When you walk in, late, you expect a reaction. Sure you’d wanted him to look at you, appreciate you, but you had also expected a little more. To be denied anything else - him simply glancing up at you, and pointing to the empty chair saved for you to the left of him at the head, was borderline offensive. Normally he’d have commented either in annoyance, or out of a protective worry - checking that nothing was amiss, that nothing had kept you. But tonight he does none of that, simply turning back to his conversation - not even waiting to see if his silent order was obeyed. It was, but you’d argue simply because it was the last seat available, not because you’d wanted to.

That particular place puts you directly next to Jerry, and just out of Elvis’ reach. It’s not an unusual place for you to sit, you’d normally sit as close to him as possible; sometimes sitting up with him or him sitting with you, sometimes even on his lap, but it is rare for him to tell you where to go. He’s commanding and wants his own way, but he’s not normally so demanding in such normal circumstances. You humph to yourself but nonetheless do as he wordlessly commands - you wanted his attention though, not half a glance and an order. You’re quiet through the meal, despite the rambunctious energy from the rest of the table - everyone in high spirits from the finished recording session, and time off they had that evening.

Elvis ignores you entirely, laughing and joking with Sonny and Red who were sat closest to him, but also joining in on the conversations happening around all sides of the table - shouting down to be heard when necessary. It’s a bit of a squeeze on the table tonight with so many of the closest knit memphis mafia boys staying, extra chairs added and the table extended. Which means that while Elvis, as ever, remains with more than enough space you’re knocking elbows with Jerry. You smile apologetically at him whenever it happens and he responds in kind back at you. You like Jerry, he’s always been nice to you and you’ve never felt the competitive edge that some of the other members of the ‘mafia’ seem to have from him. You chat politely to him, but you don’t have huge amounts to talk about tonight and he’s more preoccupied with the other conversations happening around you so you mostly eat in silence.

Being this close together though does give you an idea of how you might catch Elvis’ attention. You lean over to top up Jerry’s wine glass, using your left arm across your body so that you have to place your right hand on his thigh for balance. You can feel him look down in surprise at you, clearly taken aback at the forward action, uncertain as to whether he should pretend it didn’t happen or acknowledge it. You stroke his thigh once as you linger your hand before pulling it away and he appears to hold his breath until you’ve picked up your own glass with it. You don’t look at Elvis. If he wants to ignore you, you can do the same. Time to play with him for a change. Jerry shifts a little, and you smile at him, allowing him the opportunity to pretend nothing happened. He does so, but you can tell he feels slightly uncomfortable at the suddenly charged atmosphere. You risk a sneaky look over at Elvis, and see that his jaw is tight, although he doesn’t give off any other impression of anger. Your own frustration grows, as he continues to stare away from you - even though you can see him chewing his cheek almost every time you look over - as if in silent signal that he can tell you’re watching. Still, he doesn’t say a word to you.

When dinner finishes Elvis leads the way into the TV lounge, and you follow. You need to figure out how to up the ante a little, but without taking it too far. Little did you know the chance would come quite quickly. Elvis immediately settled himself onto the large sofa, cigarillo ready to be lit, and some of the others followed. It was pretty crowded, and it wasn’t long before they broke out to some of the other rooms around, spreading out a little. It made it easier to keep one eye on Elvis, while you considered your options. You were stood near the bar - it wasn’t like you were the only one still standing, every place to sit in the room taken up (despite the fact that normally Elvis would have insisted they make room for you - you’re a lady after all), when Jerry came up to it to pour himself a drink. He asks if you want one too and when you agree he does enough for two, handing you the glass as he comes back out. You chat about nothing in particular, and Jerry seems legitimately interested in what you have to say, and you drink, until you’re significantly more relaxed - almost forgetting about your mission.

You’re two drinks in now, and that plus the wine at dinner has made you a little brazen. You lean against the wall, and you can feel Jerry’s eyes track down your body as you, subtly, push your chest out a little. You continue your conversation, not really talking about much, but you can tell he’s panicking slightly about what to say or do to you. You look over at Elvis again who’s busy entertaining - regaling a couple of the boys left behind with tales from tour, and sigh. Jerry tracks your eyes, and frowns for a moment,

“Why’d you put up with it?” You look up at him, surprised he would be so direct,

“What do you mean? I don’t, he’s just…” You’re annoyed with him but you still don’t want to badmouth him to one of his best friends so your trying to choose your words carefully, “Look, you know probably better than anyone that you can’t tell him what to do, or what not to do. So you just have to…go along with it.” His brow furrows as he looks down at you, and he turns so that you’re both facing each other while resting sideways against the wall - if you turned your head slightly you could rest your cheek on the cold wallpaper.

“It’s just - you’re a swell girl, you’re so pretty, real bombshell like, and you could have anyone, hell he won’t even say he’s in a relationship with ya!” You smile and inch a little closer, not wanting to be overheard.

“Well, thank you that’s very kind. I’m not… blind to my own attractiveness Jerry. I’m not, … look, here’s the thing. I’m not super needy, or desperate to be liked for my own self worth, but I like him, and that might make me an idiot but I do! So, I’ll put up with a little more than I normally would, because I like him, and that’s all there is to it.” He continues to stare, with a slight commiserating look in his eye. You know he understands more than most. You’ve somehow ended up even closer to one another, barely a few inches between you now.

“I just don’t think he treats you right.” He shakes his head, and you go to say something in reply but you’re interrupted by Jerry’s arm being abruptly grabbed and pulled away from you,

“What the hell you doing Jerry? Hitting on my girl like that! What’s wrong with ya!” Jerry stumbles back, and rubs his arm where Elvis had grabbed him,

“Jesus- EP, we were just talkin’ is all. We weren’t doing nothing.” You can sense that Elvis wasn’t believing him,

“Looked from over there like you were about to do more than that. Looked like you were about to try and kiss her. You going around kissin’ my girls now?” You shake your head, starting to protest, and he whirls onto you, holding up a hand, “I’ll deal with you in a second little girl. Come on now Jer - you now saying you don’t want to kiss her?” Jerry stutters back at him,

“No-I uh, god, no offense y/n. I wouldn’t E!”

“No? Sounded like you’d try, I heard you Jer, ‘he don’t treat you right’ is what you said ain’t it!” It’s like watching two cars collide in front of you, you simultaneously feel panicked by the way the conversation is going, but also can’t look away. Jerry suddenly seems to have had enough of being accused or perhaps simply aware of the inevitability of the next event and draws himself up,

“Well, so what if I did - it's true.” The sentence is barely out of his mouth before Elvis’ fist is flying.

“What the hell! Elvis! His nose!” You’re horrified at the action unfolding, but you can’t help but be a tiny bit pleased that Elvis is at least fighting for you, even if it is with a pinch of guilt that it’s at Jerry’s expense. Jerry is, unlike some of the others, not afraid of Elvis - and not unwilling to fight back, although you can tell he’s purposefully not aiming for Elvis’ face. So they scrabble together, Elvis stumbling back onto the edge of the sofa after a particularly hard shove from Jerry.

“Elvis! Jerry! Someone stop them!” You’re shouting at the other men in the room, but it’s too late - the pair go crashing over the top of the sofa, and hit the coffee table on the way down. Both of them lie flat on their backs for a moment before Jerry stands, offering Elvis his hand. He takes it, and is immediately pulled up, shirt ruffled, hair a mess (although he’s faring better than Jerry with a black eye forming and a red nose) and you step forward - “What was that all about! Of all the childish stupid things to do! Look at the pair of you!” Elvis looks over at you, his eyes blazing, panting, before storming out of the room. You turn to apologise to Jerry, and he accepts it with a small nod of his head, heading over to the little bar for a drink after the drama. He’s not one to hold a grudge, and to be fair neither is Elvis - they’ll be friends again in half hour.

You can hear Elvis shouting to himself as he tears through the house and you’re in half a mind to let him wear himself out before going in to him, but the other half of your brain is telling you not to let him rile himself up any more than he already is. So you follow, but slowly, and by the time you get into the foyer he’s sat on the sofa in the music room, leaning heavily against its back, his head tipped back and his eyes closed. You can see his chest heaving with breaths from the exertion, and can tell, from his brief wince on the inhale that he’s obviously hurt a rib. You find it hard to be sympathetic though, since it was of his own making.

“El-“

“Don’t you start little girl - I saw you flirting like a goddamn teasing whore, trying to turn me the fuck on. With Jerry of all people.” You wince at his tone - eyes wide in an attempt to protest your innocence,

“That’s not fair - he wasn’t - … you weren’t paying me any attention! He was just talking to me!” He scoffs at you,

“Well, you’ve got my attention now.” He swings his head forward to look at you and he’s calm, but you know that can sometimes precipitate further emotion from him. You can’t help but think he looks good, even as you can tell there’s bruising forming under his shirt; slightly sweaty, hair ruffled, and his shirt coming untucked. Actually, he looks a lot, and you blush as you recognise the thought, like he does when you’ve had sex. You start to stutter out some apology or explanation but your mouth has gone dry as he continues to stare at you. He crooks his fingers, the same two fingers he always does and you follow him closer. He pats his thigh and you warily approach, half expecting to be flung over his knee, he’s unpredictable like this. You try to perch delicately but he pulls you up and across with a slight grunt. Probably from his rib, you look down at him,

“This is silly - you’re hurt! Let me have a look.” You start to pull at his shirt, as if attempting to get underneath to assess his injury. But he stops you with a tight hand on your wrist.

“I’m fine, nothin’ that won’t be sorted after a shower.” His dismissive tone does nothing to reassure you, but you can’t protest when he shakes you slightly with his hold around your wrist and waist. “Now, baby, what was all that about. You gonna try and tell me again you didn’t do it on purpose?” You falter for a second, you don’t want to lie but you also don’t want to admit to your actions; you’re a little embarrassed to have stooped to such a level. “You’ve been doin’ it all evening - god, all fucking day, trying to get on my damn nerves.” Now that you will protest.

“Elvis! I haven’t! Not all day! I was jus-“

“Ah-ha!” He crows at you, “So you admit, you were this evenin’ though huh honey?” You wince, refusing to incriminate yourself any further. “Trying to rile me up all night you have - turning up to dinner late, and you think I don’t know you were hiding in your bathroom?” You look back at him, slightly stunned to be so called out, his hand leaves your wrist, trailing up to your face. He strokes the side of your cheek from the bone of your eyebrow to the base of your chin. You tremble, feeling goosebumps springing up on your flesh. He does it again, stroking down before he, with the same fingers, grabs hold of your face, gripping your cheeks in his fingers - squeezing them together.

“Say you’re sorry, say ‘sorry Elvis’.” He mimics you in a high pitched tone. You start to protest and his fingers dig in tighter,

“So-rry Elvis.” You repeat back to him, he hums back at you.

“Got a nasty habit of arguing with me, little girl. I ain’t gonna put up with that anymore. Not from you.” You nod, and his hand, almost in praise, travels up your thigh. You squirm, your heart beating fast, suddenly aware of your pulse - you wonder if he can tell. He trails his fingers down your cheeks, stopping near your throat, resting for a moment before skipping down to hold you around your waist again. He leans his head close to yours, his breath tickling your ear. “You want my attention darling, you just gotta ask. I ain’t dealing with this bratty shit no more.” His hand strokes your inner thigh, “Understand?” You frantically nod back,

“Yeah, yeah of course, of - uh - course.” You probably shouldn’t find it so hot to be told off but you do. He shifts you from leaning so heavily on his side, and you sit up completely, looking over at him sternly - you knew he was in pain. He interrupts you before you can say anything though.

“Been tryna get you to just ask me for what you want all goddamn day. But Lord did you make it difficult for me.” His eyes have a certain glint in them, and you’re not wholly surprised when the next words out of his mouth are, “Guess you oughta make me feel better then little one, you gonna make it up to me? - Go on, baby, get on those little knees for me.” You half roll your eyes, not convinced you’ve done anything that requires apologising but still you slink off his thighs to kneel between his legs. It’s not something nice girls should admit to, but it’s not a hardship for you to take him in your mouth, in fact, quite the opposite. So you kneel, letting him unbutton his trouser - his hardening cock immediately jumping free.

You lean forward, stroking him gently to full hardness. You go to kiss the tip, and his hands find their way into your hair, bracketing your head, his rings catching a couple of strands that sting a little. But, in a good way that causes your thighs to clench with each little pull. Your fingers go to gently stroke his balls, and you watch as it prompts a bead of white to form at the end of his uncut cock. He grunts down at you,

“Don’t tease me baby, that’s not how you say sorry.” He pulls your head closer, and the tip of his dick nudges your lips. You let it in, letting it sit for a moment while you adjusted to him being in your mouth again - it’s not something you’re especially skilled at, and you don’t do it often enough to be entirely used to it all but you’re certainly enthusiastic about it. You let it slip out of your mouth with a little pop, taking the time to lick a stripe down his full length, before circling the tip back in your mouth.

“Thatsa good girl, c’mon now, take it in.” You do as he commands, bobbing down again, tasting his slight salty tang, the sweat from his exertion adding to his general manly musk. Your nose brushes against his base as you open your throat, taking shallow breathes in from your nostrils. His hips jerk as you take a moment to suck, causing his dick to knock against your throat - you can’t help but gag, and you pull off coughing slightly - his hands tugging you off quicker than you’d have gone by yourself. “Sorry sweetheart,” he strokes your cheek as you catch your breath, “God you’re fucking gorgeous.” You blink up at him, through your watering eyes and he groans, his head falling back again. “Lord, if you could see yourself right now.” You smile slightly, going back down on him. Your hands come up to hold his thighs and you dedicate yourself to the task at hand. Bobbing the length of his cock, You’re more prepared this time when he can’t help but move his hips and you go with him, fighting your gag reflex. Your hand finds where your mouth can’t comfortably reach, and gently holds him in place while your other goes down to delicately stroke his balls. You go with where his hands in your hair tug you, up and down, as you feel his thighs clench.

You don’t have any particularly strong opinions about swallowing, it just depends on your mood and although he’s made it quite clear he’d prefer for you to swallow he’s not about to force you into anything. Today though, as you look up at him through your wet lashes, you can see the glint in his eye as he murmurs that he’s close, and watches you glance about, realising that in the living room you don’t have much choice, unless you’re planning on dirtying your sleeve or the couch. You make eye contact and it seems to be the catalyst to send him over the edge, swearing as you swallow him down. He breathes heavily for a few moments as you finish licking him clean before pulling off to wipe your mouth and chin clean. He tucks himself away, “That’s it. Good girl,” he sighs, thumbing any lasting traces of wet on your face away, “that was a mighty nice ‘pology.” You smile up at him. Pleased that he’s pleased.

“I really wasn’t flirting with Jerry,” You tilt your head, “…much.” He guffaws back at you, his previous black mood forgotten, looking down at you with half lidded eyes,

“S’ok darling, sorry I lost my lid with ya - shouldn’t, shoul-dn’t have. Knew you wouldn’t really.” He pulls you up into his arms, although you protest, and he starts to try to lay you on the couch. “Lemme take care of you now baby, lemme take care of you.”

“Elvis,” You start tentatively, pushing back on his hands to sit upright. “Wouldya, would you let me have a look at your side? That’s how you can take care of me, let me have a look.” He looks at you, eyes wide,

“You, you don’t hafta baby, it’s my fault.” You hush him, shifting to be sat next to him and pull his top up, he allows it - lifting his arm to help you roll it up and get a clear look. You tut at the red marks mottling his side, can see where it’s going to develop into a nasty bruise right along the line of his rib, clearly where he’d crashed into the coffee table. He winced when you push into it, but (despite your lack of medical training) you’re pretty sure that it doesn’t feel broken or cracked. Just bruised.

“Let’s get some ice on that, and then I’ll put some cream on it later, ‘fore we go to bed.” He blinks at you for a second,

“Yeah, yeah sounds like a -ah- plan.” He grunts as his arm comes down, his facial expression changes quickly, a little smirk forming although he’s still got that soft expression on his face, the one that always appears when he’s being taken care of. “You gonna nurse me back to health? Get you a lil’ cap and gown?” You shake your head at him,

“In your dreams, buddy. C’mon,” You shake his arm as you stand, “Let’s go get that ice.” He nods, following you like a lost puppy.

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