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#and then we went back she was acting perfectly happy again and i was supposed to act like i hadnt been crying 3 min ago.
codfanficedits · 7 months
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Cheating Ghost part 11 - His ending.
Ghost POV:
I lost it all. And for what? For a little toy, for a little smile, for a little weak moment. Sixty goddamn days of my life.
It wasn’t even worth it. It made me lose the job I worked so hard for. Price didn’t want to hear shit after I got my sentence. I tried to explain how it wasn’t really my fault. After all, you and Soap had planned this. No matter how innocent you tried to act in court. I knew what had happened.
I really tried to live with my anger. I had to go to therapy, but that was a waste of my fucking time. I have one little outburst and all of the sudden I am the problem?
I had to sell the house, because of you. Everything reminded me of you, at night I thought I saw you stand in the doorway, I swear I could hear your footsteps, your laugh, your voice. But you were never there. It haunted me, you know that? So I sold it, bought another house. Tried to forget about you. The money I had made during my time in the military, it lasted me a long time. I didn’t have to work, no I could drown my sorrows in liquor and hookers. The funny thing was, money doesn’t last, just like we didn’t.
And I really tried. I tried to get new jobs, but they would never last. God, people are morons and I just cannot deal with them. Do you know how hard it is to keep your house when you’re not able to keep a goddamn job? And furthermore, do you know how hard it is to keep a relationship when you’re not able to hold a job, when the bills are stacking up?
God, and even if I could hold a job, I’m not able to keep a relationship, I keep searching for a piece of you. Even when they’re a perfect match, they’re still not you.
I hate myself for letting you go, I crave how predictable you were, I crave your touch, your voice, you.
Yet at the same time, I am so angry at you for taking everything from me. I deserve better than this. You took everything I worked so hard for.
The anger is tucked away, for now. It reappears whenever I hit the bottle. Everything I’ve been holding in comes out then. It’s not a pretty sight when I get my shit together again, it makes me feel ashamed.
Your little action has made me unable to look into the mirror. I see my fathers eyes whenever my eyes linger to long on the man I see in the mirror. I became what I hated the most and I can only blame you for it.
I even tried to make up with the last woman, the one you found the video of. I went to her house, tried to explain myself. I even apologised for calling her my toy. She had the audacity to laugh at me. She told me to fuck right off. Hell, she even pulled her girlfriend to her side when I asked for a second chance. It left me broken. Not even my back up wanted me anymore.
Lately I’ve been wandering the streets, as a soul without a purpose. I avoid the large windows, I cannot stand to see my reflection in them, the shell of the man I was supposed to be. I had such a good life ahead of me, but it was all ruined. My days are filled with sorrow and time is slipping through my fingers.
It is a good day, a beautiful day, so I decide to go to the park, maybe it would ease my mind, before I would go home and get drunk again. I wander around in the park, aimlessly, the sun on my skin is a nice feeling, it beats the feeling of feeling sorry for myself.
My heart skips a beat when I see you. You’re standing close to the water, and I can’t tell what you’re saying to the man in front of you, but you look happy. The clothes you’re wearing fit your body perfectly, and truth be told, you look better than you’ve ever looked before.
God I miss you. I miss you so goddamn much. I start to make my way over to you, I want to talk to you, maybe there is a new chance for us to be together. The guy you’re with can suck it, I can show you what you deserve.
My blood runs cold when I see the man in front of you go down on one knee.
No.
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buckyownsmylife · 1 year
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friendzone - chapter 2
The one where director!reader is forced to work alongside her new work crush and the idiot who broke her heart
For general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.  
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“Let’s go.” Chris was barely even out of the building and she was already turning the other way, practically running towards the nearest empty room while I stood there unsure of what to do.
Was she even calling out to me? Or did she just want to get away?
It struck me how little it mattered to me. Either way, my feet followed her path as if connected to her intentions, and not my own. “Take off your clothes,” were the first words she told me once I was inside the studio where we were supposed to be filming for the day. 
It was only once they were out of her mouth that she seemed to understand what she’d said.
“I’m being such an idiot.”
“You could never be an idiot.” My mouth also worked faster than my brain, somehow managing to snap hers shut in the middle of the explanation she was no doubt about to latch onto. 
For a second, we just stood there, staring at one another. Trying to connect the dots of what was going on. And then we just both burst into laughter. “I’ll have to admit,” I offered to go first, still between holding in my chuckles, “It’s an awkward position to be in, I’ll give you that.”  
Again, time seemed to stand still. I could feel her eyes on me, but I couldn’t speak. Avoiding her eyes, I looked at the floor as I waited for the inevitable question,
“What do you mean?”
The truth? I didn’t know. Ever since I met her, back in the casting process, something just seemed to click within me. I wanted to get to know her better, I wanted to become close to her.
But then her ex was hired and I forced myself not to think about it.
The first few weeks went by okay. The chemistry was still there - we laughed and we chatted and when we were alone after the filming crew had gone home, we talked - really talked: real conversations, like the ones I couldn’t remember having after this acting gig blew up.
The fight to become a respected filmmaker as a woman made her someone strong, but she’d always been interesting. The stories she told me about college, how she discovered her love for directing, it all spoke to me deeply… it felt as if her story was written for me, a rare book only I would get the pleasure to uncover.
I’d forgotten about the lives we had outside of each other’s company often. Hearing about Chris’ engagement to the movie resolved that. But if I initially thought it was going to hurt, seeing the former lovebirds reacquaint themselves, and having to witness their flame rekindle, I ended up hurt for a completely different reason.
Turns out she didn’t want anything to do with Chris. But in her efforts to shut him out, she did the same to me.
“Don’t worry about it,” I insisted, scared to overstep and diminish whatever was left of the bonds of friendship we’d carefully crafted earlier in the Summer. But if there was anything I’d learned about her in the time we spent together, it was that she never gave up.
“Tell me.” Tenacity should be her middle name, and just the thought of calling her Tenacious T had me smiling, which in turn made her smile too, as she approached me just to poke me. “C’mon!”
“You won’t believe me.” I managed to say despite the tickles attack she’d resorted to. It had me bending down to escape her, but my feet remained solid, in the same spot. I was right where I wanted to be. 
“Try me.” I tried to consider it for a few seconds, but she didn’t seem to want me to think about it at all. “C’mon, Henry. Tell me!” The smile I sent her this time wasn’t nearly as happy. It had her defenses lowering, as she finally stopped moving and stood there staring at me, a question mark perfectly visible in her expression.
“How about instead of being selfish, I tell you something else?” I was the one who crossed the last of the distance between us, pulling her into my arms so I could feel her body against mine. “I’m here for you,” I whispered against her ear, hands rubbing her back in an effort to see her relax, at last.
“Do you want to talk?” I asked once I felt comfortable releasing her - although if it were up to me, I’d stay hugging her forever. She avoided my eyes but nodded in response, and so I reached out to take her hand, guiding us to a couch nearby. It was only ever used in the breaks between scenes, but today, I had a pretty strong feeling it’d be put to good use.
“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted the second we were both seated. She had one leg bent under her body, which was turned completely to me. “He’s just so infuriating.” And there it was - the moment it all changed; when she confided in me her feelings about another man, and I became the friendly figure I’d wanted to avoid as I fell hopelessly in love with her.
“I can see that.” I didn’t want to remain silent, so I opted to find encouraging words to keep her motivated to unpack everything Chris had brought onto her. She nodded at my words, but it seemed automatic, almost instinctive. “Why do you think he decided to join the movie?”
She didn’t need to tell me about his interference - her expression on his first-day filming was more than enough for me to figure out that she truly didn’t want him there. “Oh, he just enjoys messing up with me.”
But I knew it was more than that. “I don’t think that’s it,” I dared to interrupt her train of thought. “You know, love is always selfish. Always. And he loves you.” I didn’t say that I understood that from my own experience, and she didn’t question it.
“What a fucked up way to show it.” Her response made me laugh. I agreed with her, but didn’t find it necessary to parrot her sentiment. Here I was, trying to show her the same sentiment in a completely different way, and I was still being an egocentric son of a bitch.
What she needed was a friend. And I’d be anything for her, even if it hurt me in the process.
“You deserve someone who’ll take care of you.” It was all I allowed myself to say, in the height of my pain. But when she looked up at me from under her eyelashes, the butterflies that erupted in my lower belly were more than enough to keep the sweet sentiment of falling in love still alive.
“Like you?” She questioned, and there was no irony in the words. No innuendo, no judgment. The sentence came alive as hope itself, and the butterflies took flight inside of me, giving me the confidence not to answer with words of my own, but with a kiss.
I leaned down to connect our lips, and the butterflies broke free. This was always meant to be: her and me, together at last.
Who could blame a fallen man for allowing himself to get carried away? A kiss was all it took for my mind to lose its way. The simple meeting of lips became sensuous - and from then to something more, it was only the matter of having her over my lap, hips swerving in a rhythim only the two of us could hear.
It was the beating of our hearts, in unison at last.
//
I was so fucking horny.
Fighting with Chris all day, every day, was taking a toll on me - and I hadn’t even realized it until I saw the lust in Henry’s eyes.
I’d forgotten I could be an object of desire to someone other than the man who’d cheated on me.
Henry’s kisses were hungry - it felt like he couldn’t believe that this was happening, that I was really there, on his lap, biting his lower lip and pressing myself as close to him as possible. They were precisely the balm I needed to get over this - get over Chris and his stupid fucking smirk.
So I dove right into Henry, hoping to forget all about the hurt and anger that had taken over my life. With his hands rubbing my back, it was hard to remember anything else, much less the real reason why I was right there, making out with the main actor of my movie, instead of directing his scenes like I should be doing.
I didn’t even mind that there were people right outside of the room we were in - people who could walk in at any moment and see exactly what it was that we were doing. All I could focus was on Henry and how delicious it felt to rub myself on that hardness I felt underneath me…
“We should stop.” It all came to a screeching halt once he pulled away from me, hair messed up from when I’d run my nails over his scalp, his chest rising and falling from breathing pretty hard.
I wanted to stay. I wanted to keep kissing him, perhaps even in other places… But he was right. I was doing this for the wrong reasons, at the wrong time, and he deserved more than that.
“Okay,” I agreed and climbed down from his lap with as much dignity as I could muster at the moment. We both took a few seconds fixing up our appearances, and I tried not to look too smug as I caught him trying to hide his boner, but he still saw me.
And we both burst into laughter at the same time.
“This shouldn’t feel weird…” I trailed off, scratching the back of my neck. Unfortunately, it seemed to make Henry concerned, for he instantly jumped out of the couch and reached for my hands.
“I hope this won’t change our relationship…” He started, to which I immediately interrupted with, “I hope it does.” It took him a few seconds to get it, but once he did, the most gorgeous smile known to humankind appeared on his lips.
“Well, since you think that way… What about if we go on a date?” The question surprised me. Egoistically, I hadn’t thought about being with Henry on a romantic level - but now it was too late to back out.
“How about we go right now?” I shrugged, already looking for my bag. “I’m the boss, anyway. I’ll just say I’m feeling uninspired and in need of some one-on-one time with my muse.”
“And your muse is me?” He questioned, amusement clear in his tone and face. I simply nodded.
“Who else would it be? Let’s go!”
It was only later in the evening, once he’d walked me to my hotel, that I started to really think about what had happened, and the implications of what could transpire between us. I’d been involved with an actor before, and it hadn’t ended well for me.
But was Henry really anything like Chris? It didn’t seem that way…
“Where the fuck were you?” My ex’s voice surprised me right as I was opening the door to my hotel room, and I turned around to find him sitting on the hallway, apparently waiting for me.
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lilacslug · 7 months
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SPOILERS!
My fionna and cake thoughts!
Episode one: LOVED! So cute. I love all the characters, I love all the beautiful little details they did to really sell them as their gender-bent normal human selves. I love the idea that because Simon is normal now, fionna and cake went from being magical finn and jake copy cats to…well…a normal girl and her cat. I loved that prince gumball worked in a coffee shop and made gingerbread men (like how princess bubblegum made candy people) and that he was very neurotic about making them perfect. Such a perfect little detail that really sells him as the PB variant. I liked female fern being her own character on the bus (at least, I think that was female fern). I love that cake was the one that got summoned into the real adventure time world first. Marshall lee, LSP, everyone was just so perfectly done. I loved that Fionna dreamt of Fionna and cake esc stories, and that she did “3 times in a row”.
Episode two and general thoughts: OH BOY! The flashback 😭😭. I think it’s interesting that Finn hasn’t gained much more emotional intelligence. It says something about his placement in the dead worlds in distant lands. He probably had more development in his middle age and on to get to the 34th dead world. I loved the little call with Marcy and bubblegum and how neither of them could get tattoos because of their magical selves, hitting the same note as the rest of the episode that Simon feels fundamentally different than the rest of the world because of him being from the past.
But the fact that Marceline and Bubblegum are magical actually was hindering them. Neither could get a tattoo like they wanted. And marceline previously wanted to become human again. This could’ve been a very sad moment for both of them, realizing they couldn’t immortalize their love forever due to these hindrances. But instead, they found joy in it. It makes me think about how if Simon chose to be happy he’s been transported to this magical world (like Fionna wishes for) his quality of life could drastically improve. I mean, he lives in a museum of the past. Of course if I were in his position I would find that incredibly comforting in a world so radically different than what I knew, but the metaphor there is apparent.
I also like that Fionna acts as a sort of parallel to Simon, as they are unsatisfied with their worlds and want it to change. And I love that despite Fionna being inside of Simon’s head it’s like she innately KNOWS the real world IS magical and is feeling a sort of dysphoria in living in this “normal” 20th century world. I wonder if Simon fantasizes about his old life using Fionna. Or i wonder if he avoids thinking about her at all costs (throwing away the kids book, and getting upset when people talking about them does suggest this) the world ice king created was so expansive it qualified as it’s own sub universe. I wonder the implications of this in general. Like, what about ice king made this possible, the crown? The crown did act as a sub dimension. Was it also Simon’s previous intellect? He studied ancient artifacts, signifying he was a sort of anthropologist interested in the magical. A very intelligent anthropologist+magical crown with sub dimensional powers I suppose would combine to create this outcome.
I also find it interesting he was SO interested in these artifacts that it was his downfall. And, it’s so sad to see him try and fail to get Betty back. But the fact that an attempt to get Betty back -> cake (and eventually Fionna) appearing into this world. It to me sells that Fionna is more than just a finn copy, and that ice king was also longing for his Betty back. I mean, he did ship himself with Fiona and want her to marry him. And we see that Betty was a strong willed, determine woman, like Fionna. It also does a lot to make Fionna feel like a 3 dimensional character, rather than a finn 2. Especially when the new finn we see visually looks so different, and has a different personality.
It’s interesting episode 2 ended with cake being her normal self. I wonder how she’ll go from a normal cat to the cake we know and love. Maybe the alien that fathered Jake gets involved? Or it’s some prismo time biz?
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damelucyjo · 10 months
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I’m kind of at a point now where I’m mellowed out about the finale now. As I’ve said there’s things I liked, things I didn’t. There were a good few things that still baffle me though.
So here are 2 thoughts that won’t leave my head;
1 - They just needed to add little hints from Henry throughout the season that he really missed his dad and wanted him back in Kansas. Add in a couple of little scenes where there’s a little bit of a FaceTime where he says ‘I miss you, dad’, or even make a point of it in part of the episode where he stayed with Ted whilst Michelle went off to Paris. As far as I can remember he never once told his dad that he missed seeing him all the time. Little things like that would have really helped make Dottie telling Ted that his son missed him not seem like a manipulative tactic on her part too, and would have made him deciding he had to leave not feel like it suddenly came out of the blue.
2 - Why did Ted feel like he couldn’t speak to Rebecca once she told him she was ready to talk about it. He never had trouble talking with anyone before. If he was so sure of his decision, why couldn’t he reassure her that it was all going to be okay. We were never shown them having a conversation about it. But to me, not having Ted say anything in the scene in the stands, other than agree that he’d made his decision, felt like he hadn’t truly made a decision he was really set on or happy with. He didn’t want to go, but he just didn’t want to talk to her about it. The same in the airport. She kept trying to get him to stay because, again, to me, I felt like she knew he didn’t want to leave. I do believe it’s all more to do with what happened with his dad and Ted being all about never wanting people to feel like they’re alone. But he doesn’t know how to help multiple people at once. He had to go back so that Henry never got to a point where he felt like he didn’t have a dad (which I believe he never did or would have, but this was the case in Ted’s brain), but in going back to Kansas he was leaving Rebecca. He had to do that though because Henry’s more important to him. And I could go off on another tangent about how it was apparently more important for them to show this platonic loving friendship between these two, yet I saw more love between Rebecca & Keeley than I did Ted & Rebecca. They spent so much time seemingly not talking! God, I really could go on and on apparently, but I’m gonna shut up about them now 😂
I have many other thoughts that won’t leave me alone either. One the same as everyone else - how Ted & Rebecca are supposed to be very close friends and nothing more, yet why all the fake outs and specific acting choices from both Hannah & Jason. Or the many thoughts I have after reading Brendan’s AMA. But most of these are angry thoughts…
My overall impression, I guess you could say, is that many of the final choices that were made in regards to this show really reflected on the fact that is was basically run by a group of men. I don’t want to believe that many of the things that happened would have happened if they’d had any women who had more say. I may be completely alone in that opinion, and that’s perfectly fine.
But one ‘bad’ episode, even if it is the finale, isn’t going to taint my love of the show overall. I will still rewatch it, just maybe not the last episode as often. I’ll just believe the idea that the ending was all a dream and that they had plenty of conversations off camera. Ted was just popping home to sort things out before starting a new chapter of his life in Richmond.
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venusianelf · 2 years
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The Balcony
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F! Reader
Genre: Angst with happy ending, Fluff, Exes to Lovers
Summary: Months following you and Natasha’s breakup, you both attend a party and have to confront your feelings for each other.
Warnings: Break ups/Messy feelings, Small mentions of anxiety, Reader drinks alcohol but doesn’t get drunk, Mention of s3x, Tony throws a party trope
Word Count: ~1,400
A/N: So I kind of got hit by writer’s block but I finally got the inspiration to write this fic! So I hope you enjoy it! Also it’s inspired by/includes lyrics from the songs Save Your Tears by The Weeknd and Kitchen Light by Xana
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It had been eight months since you and Natasha’s break up. You had thought everything was going smoothly until she came home one night and seemed distant. She had sat you down and explained that you two needed to separate because she didn’t want to hurt you. Confused, you tried to change her mind but it ended in her yelling at you. Shaken and hurt, you watched as she packed up her things and left. It happened all so quickly, you almost weren’t sure it actually happened. The only evidence left being your damp cheeks and her things missing from the apartment.
It took a while but you finally felt like you were starting to move on. Then Tony announced that a party was in order to celebrate a recent success on a mission. Everyone was invited, including you and Natasha. Worried you went to your best friend, Kate. “Kate!” You panicked as you quickly entered her room and sat next to her. “Um, hey there! What’s up?” She asked as she eyed you curiously. “So Tony is throwing a party and I want to go this time since I’ve skipped out on the last few. But I’m worried Natasha will be there,” You explained as she sighed compassionately. “Well she definitely could be there, but I think it’s been long enough that you two can both act civil around each other,” She assured you as she drew a soothing circle on your back. 
“I suppose you’re right. I just haven’t seen her much since then, so I’m worried about us being so near each other,” You sighed as you buried your face in your hands. “Ugh, this is all so embarrassing,” You huffed as Kate smiled gently at you. “I think this is a perfectly normal thing to stress about. But if you’re worried about seeing her again why don’t we make you look drop dead gorgeous so she can’t help but be awed,” Kate schemed as you peeked out from between your hands. “Wouldn’t it be obvious why I was so dressed up though?” You queried as she laughed at your question. “I don’t think so. You haven’t gone to any of the parties recently and yes, she’s always observant but only about anyone but you,” Kate replied as you took your hands away from your face and smiled at Kate. “You’re right, let’s do it,” You responded as she beamed back at you triumphantly. “Hell yeah!” She exclaimed as you laughed.
Tonight was the night. As you made your finishing touches on your makeup, you contemplated tonight’s party. You were excited but also nervous. Taking a deep breath, you smoothed out your dress and checked your phone one more time. Kate’s “on my way!” message had been sent nine minutes ago, so she should be outside anytime now. Putting your phone down, you slid on your shoes and went to grab your purse. Almost immediately after you got your purse you heard a familiar knock at the door. Opening the door, Kate flung herself into a hug with you. “You look gorgeous! This is going to be so much fun!” Kate exclaimed as you smiled at her. “Thank you, you look dashing yourself, and I hope you’re right about tonight’s fun,” You responded as she poked your nose. “Lighten up, it’s going to be fine, and thank you for the compliment, madam,” She responded lightheartedly as you chuckled at her. “There we go! That’s the reaction I wanted,” She laughed as you two headed to her car.
After you arrived, you had spent some time in the corner nursing a drink. After one of many of Kate’s encouragements about getting out there and dancing, you finally did. As you got out to dance you shook your head at her as she cheered you on. Once you loosened up you felt the beat and began to dance more comfortably. Closing your eyes and humming to yourself, you let yourself get caught up in the song. When the next song began you opened your eyes and your sight landed on a certain redhead. Seeing her admiring gaze you felt a surge of emotions run through you. Feeling your eyes water, you broke away from her stare. 
Breaking away from the dancing crowd, you made your way over to an empty seat and calmed yourself down. As curiosity took over you looked back at where she had been to see an empty space. Searching the crowd for her, your eyes settled on her out on the balcony. Steeling yourself, you headed towards her. Opening the doors onto the balcony you closed them behind you and stepped out next to her. “Wasn’t sure I would see you here,” You chuckled dryly as she looked up at you with a swirl of emotions written on her face. “Hah, well I definitely wasn’t expecting you to show,” She responded as you kept your gaze trained on the moon. “That’s reasonable. I haven’t been coming recently,” You replied as she turned her gaze back towards the sky. 
You both sat in silence for a while until you cleared your throat and went to head back inside. Before you could though you felt Natasha’s hand gently grab your wrist. Looking back at her confused, she asked, “Why?” “What?” You asked even more confused. “Why didn’t you ask me why I broke your heart? I made you think I would stay, and I said some things that I should never say,” She asked as you saw her start to tremble. Sighing, you moved back next to the railing. “I didn’t ask because you didn’t seem to want to talk about it,” You replied as she released your wrist and gazed at you while you focused your gaze on the city skyline. 
“You’re right. I didn’t want to talk about it, but you could’ve asked,” She sighed as she ran a hand through her hair. “I know I broke your heart like someone did to me, but I regret it so deeply. I realize that I’m much too late, and you deserve someone better, like Kate,” She rambled as you felt your eyes water again. “Yeah, Kate’s a sweetheart, but Nat I couldn’t even begin to think about being with someone else. Maybe it’s because I'm a little too tipsy but maybe it’s because you’re not too late,” You responded as you fidgeted with your hands. Feeling her gaze on you intensify you continued, “I’ve missed you and I’m afraid to say all of this but I can’t keep it inside. I can’t be wrong to be craving you,” You rambled as you felt her hand rest on top of yours. 
“I’ve missed you too. You don’t know how many nights I spent wishing I could take back everything I said,” She replied as you turned to look at her. “Well if we do this again you better not break my heart or I’ll break your mouth,” You laughed as she chuckled softly with you. “That’s fair,” She responded as you both felt a gentle electricity in the air. As you both leaned in you felt the first tear hit your cheek. As your lips crashed together, you both put all your pent up emotions into the passionate kiss. It felt like a wave crashing over you that cleansed you of all your fears and worries. You had missed this, missed her.
Pulling back you both panted as she pulled your head to rest on her shoulder. Humming into her skin she chuckled, “What’s so interesting dear?” She asked as you felt the reverberation of her laugh. “You smell like my old perfume. Wait, did you take it when you left?” You asked as you pulled your head back to watch her flush. “Um, maybe?” She responded as you laughed. “So that’s where that went! You know I searched all over my apartment to find it,” You replied as you leaned against the railing again. “Well I guess you’ll have to come to mine if you want to get it back,” She said flirtatiously as you flicked her in the arm softly. “Ow, what was that for?” She huffed as you laughed. “Stop trying to get me in your bed Romanoff,” You giggled as she rolled her eyes. “You don’t know that was my intention,” She replied as you gave her a questioning look. “And even if it was, you still have to come to my house to get the perfume back either way,” She continued as you laughed. “Fair point,” You responded as you smiled happily at her. Turns out you worried about the party for no reason you thought to yourself.
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faszaakisshobbi · 11 months
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im back guys and here's my updates on everything!!
the trip was good. I am still exhausted, we walked a lot and my legs are sore. but we got a 99.25 score and 1st place in best school music department and best string orchestra. П seemed happy but exhausted and we embarrassed her a bunch by yelling and cheering whenever they called her name and our school, she would giggle and turn red but it was nice. I feel like we did a lot better than expected! one of the judges also was flirting with her afterwards and tried to get her contact. she just frowned in his face and walked away 💀 I DIDNT SIT NEXT TO HER (she has boundaries and I respect them) BUT I WANTED TO. I COULD HAVE FALLEN ALSEEP ON HER SHOULDER. she looked so great the entire time!! and we convinced her to take a group photo with the orchestra (she is never in photos related to school or with students) but I was the one to convince her!!!! she ran over and stood right in front of me and kind of leaned back a bit into me(?). I almost put my hand on her shoulder but I physically couldn't 😭😭 I didn't drive myself there in the morning and went with a friend, my mom had to pick me up at night and she was 30 minutes late even though I told her when to arrive and П had to wait with me really late I felt really bad. she didn't seem too annoyed though.
I saw Б on Thursday and again Saturday. lesson was very good, she also kept me over 40 minutes gossiping and just giving me more lesson time which was very kind of her. she was pushing me a lot but also I had made a lot of progress in 2 weeks. we are starting a new piece now too im super excited!! she got me 4 free tickets to this cello concerto for Saturday night (IT WAS ABSOLUTELY AMAZING AND THEN HE DID THIS EXTRA SOLO PIECE HE WAS SO GREAT). I brought a friend and they wanted to meet her and I did the stupidest thing. I got the SECOND CHAIR cellist (that is the director of 3 different organizations and i'm pretty sure has her doctorate and is the most intimidating woman ever) to get Б's attention so my friend and I could talk to her. I only did that after the cellist yelled at me for missing a master class and she was like "uhh you want Б? yeah I suppose??" and then Б came out and was just like "oh hi? I don't know your friend" then we just introduced and her and I talked about my sonata and the concert and my friend was just standing there. I FEEL LIKE I MADE Б UNCOMFORTABLE. my other friends said she looked perfectly happy but I felt really bad. she never comes to talk during intermission because she hates people lol. I just feel really bad but I think its okay. and then she was pointing to me for her stand partner. I hope I didn't deter her too badly to the point of her acting different in lesson. im just overthinking things. maybe she will have thought it was funny how confident I was and she'll be even sweeter??
anyway, if you read the whole thing ty! im sure there will be more to post that I just ended up forgetting, but yeah :)
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ashalsdream · 2 years
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❝  i’m only really living in the moments when we’re together.  the rest is just existing until you look at me again.  ❞
For Canach and Tomomi?? 👀
@scribesofcalamity
HI sorry this took so long LMAO but have some soft fluff of them <3
(will also post the images in a separate post because I love the edit but yeah! Enjoy the boys)
@scribesofcalamity - Ao3 link in reblogs.
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Canach hadn’t even heard the footsteps down into his office within the club until a voice he had not heard in what felt like years broke him from his paperwork. 
“Well, I suppose I should stop doubting Ashal when she tells me where you are” the elegant form of each word made Canach’s heart ache, the elementalist in front of him stood with such grace and pride that it was almost befitting of a proud king. Each movement was timed perfectly like he knew all eyes were on him even if it was only the two of them. Everything about him was planned and perfected. Apart from the way he looked at Canach. That had never been planned, that had never been perfected. Each time he seemed to catch eyes with his husband he acted as if he was caught off guard - like he had been blessed and told he was beauty incarnate. 
Tomomi tilted his head when Canach just stared at him and rolled his eyes, a quiet giggle leaving his lips as he walked forward towards the desk, “a ‘hello, my dear lovely husband’ or a ‘I have missed you oh so dearly in our time apart’ would have done just fine” he teased as the other laughed snapping out of his trance on the elementalist. 
“All true words, not that I would admit them in front of you” he smirked, pushing the paperwork aside knowing that he would get murdered for not finishing them but in that moment he didn’t even care anymore. “How did you find me?” he asked curiously, he went to stand up but was interrupted by the purple sylvari simply hopping onto his desk and swinging his legs over so he was sat facing him, leaning down to steal a kiss before he sighed, stretching up. 
Tomomi seemed to stretch to attempt to relieve the stress of the day, “Surprisingly, Ashal’s new boyfriend seems to want to get on my good side and managed to get me transport to Cantha. So, here I am. I’m here on ‘official guild business’” 
Canach hummed in response, smiling at his lover. “I am glad you’re here, look, my love, I am a billionaire now.” he snorted, he knew Tomomi would love him either way. They had been through the worst of times together, he at least hoped he could give him some better times now. But he was concerned on why Tomomi was with them, he had found a peaceful place to live in Vabbi, he had been happy. Why did he leave? He knew it was partly because Canach had left but Tomomi had sacrificed so much for him, he had promised he’d go back home after Cantha - another promise broken. “I’m sorry. I know you were happy there.” 
“Yes, I was. But I am happier when you are with me” The elementalist smiled sadly, he had been happy - for a time. Vabbi had been home. After Jormag he struggled with colder temperatures and while the desert night air had been a struggle, he had gotten used to it. “I was not truly living. I was waiting, waiting for you to come home, waiting for letters from Ashal, waiting to prove myself again - to prove that I am not the monster Jormag made me.” the phantom pain in not only his missing leg but also now the eye that the scion of Jormag had ripped from his skull seemed to ache again as he closed his eyes. He could still hear their voices, tormenting him. 
He gasped when Canach placed his hand on his cheek, “you are safe. I am truly only living in the moments when we are together. The rest is just existing, waiting, until I am able to see you again. See the way you look at me. You are my husband, Tomomi. You are not a monster” 
Leaning against the others hand, he pressed a kiss against his palm. “I am yours and that is truly enough for me. Promise me this will be it?” he looked at him again, he was tired of the fighting - tired of moving, tired of running. He wanted to settle down and he’d had that for a short while in Vabbi. Canach felt guilty for making him move again. But they would be stable here, the commander had others to help her. He can finally give Tomomi the peace he wanted. 
“I promise.”  
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takaraphoenix · 2 years
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All Rise: Season 3 Review
I’m so... vastly... disappointed in this season, to be quite frank.
I adored the first two seasons, the show quickly shot up to be my favorite currently ongoing TV show back then.
And even during those two seasons, I spent them in a state of tense suspense about Lola and Mark; I’ve seen what heteronormativity does to a perfectly fine TV show where the man and the woman were perfect as friends (looking at New Amsterdam in particular here). I feared they may kiss/cheat or that the show would just kill off Lola’s husband, give them a bit of a mourning phase and then make Mark/Lola a ship (again, looking at New Amsterdam here).
So that didn’t happen in season 3 either but damn they somehow managed to something worse?
Not only that they recast Robin with an actor who has... zero... chemistry with Lola, just at all, no, they newly introduce the “college sweetheart” and we spend the majority of the season watching Lola pine for this new character, have sex dreams (and, what’s infinitely worse, marriage and kids dreams) about him and then we end the season with her kissing that guy?
Which, the hypocrisy of that is driving me up the wall on its own if we consider the slut shaming that she did with Mark, when Mark got kissed against his will? She kept calling his lips slutty, she literally slut-shamed him for a non-consensual kiss that he shut down after. I always hated that, because she was supposed to be Mark’s best friend and her behavior around that was incredibly gross, made worse by the fact that she did not slut-shame her other best friend, aka the woman who did the kissing, the woman working with Mark’s girlfriend at the time, knowing full-well that Mark was in a relationship. But her? No, not her, Lola only slut-shamed Mark.
And now she’s the one kissing other guys. Sure, he was the one initiating the kiss, but so damn slow she could have backed out. And after all that pining.
I hate this. I hate nothing more than cheating plot-lines and now you are ruining this character that I love and this show that I love and it’s pissing me off beyond the moon.
And on top of that? The way  the queer rep on the show got treated this season was just nasty.
I always loved Lisa’s character and was so happy when she finally got a girlfriend. And then this season sees her written off the show, which also obviously writes her girlfriend off the show, losing not one but two queer characters. Sure, Lisa had some special guest star moments, but it’s just not the same and Georgia didn’t come back at all.
The season 2 finale saw Sam and Ness kiss each other and I got excited about them doubling the wlw representation, and with two major characters this time around too!
And season 3 saw Sam written off entirely; Lisa at least had the guest appearances but Sam’s just... gone. And with her that entire plotline. Queerness does not come up around Nessa at all... if Nessa is even in it, because she was barely in this season too.
And then we end the season with a literal knife to the gut for Ness, their one remaining queer character (not that it’s been acted upon beyond that one kiss in season 2), leaving her potentially to die and be written off the show too.
Which, chances are quite high, considering that this finale left us with three majorly injured characters (all... characters of color, if I might add that). And it looks like Luke is going to pull through, so there’s about a 50/50 chance for Ness if they need the drama of her death or if they let her live.
I just... I’m just disappointed all around?
They went in their queer rep from 4 to... zero, basically, with nothing queer happening on-screen at all (i.e. dates, kisses, meeting someone, heck, just talking about their sexuality/partners).
And they chose to make their leading lady cheat on her husband, after spending a season of straining her relationship with said husband - which was, might I add, actually a really truly beautiful relationship in seasons 1 and 2.
This is genuinely the worse turn I’ve seen any show that’s been picked up after a cancellation take.
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britkunoichi92 · 2 years
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Okay, look. I know I mention 26/10/21 a lot.
But I think I can actually trace it back to August of that year.
My mum's birthday. She's 63.
At first, the day was great. We went to the South Bank and took a walk along the river. Battersea is nice. All in all, we had a good day.
Except I forgot that I was supposed to be volunteering that day but I forgot bc it was mum's birthday.
Good day overall.
But then everything changed that evening.
Growing up as an only child who's single parent is an alcoholic and has been one for your entire life, you notice things.
We'd literally just stepped in the door and I went to get mum her cake that I had left in the fridge that morning.
Mum was asking me and acting all happy. But something in her voice had changed.
Alcoholics often have a tendency to try and cover up when they're drunk. To appear normal. "I'm not drunk, I'm perfectly fine!"
In my mum's case, she puts on this stupid posh voice and rambles and acts all hyper. It's an act. Bouncy and manic and going nineteen to the dozen and zooming around and babbling nonsense to anyone who will listen. And repeating things.
But I noticed in her voice straight away. And I remember that crushing feeling of dissapointment. Its happened again. She's drunk.
But I did my best to put on a brave face. Don't get annoyed. Don't get angry. Don't fly off the handle and rage about the betrayal and dissapointment and fear that they've gone off the wagon again.
So I pretended for the rest of that evening that nothing was wrong. Luckily we both went to bed early after our long day out so I didn't have to put up with her too much.
But then, it escalated. And October of that year was the next major tipping point.
To this day, I look back and realise that was the closest I ever got to a nervous breakdown.
I could feel it. Like I was going to snap.
Now, I haven't exactly been conventional my entire life. I've always been the daydreaming bookworm nerdy womanchild. Reading, writing, video games. Massive imagination. It never stops.
I always knew I wasn't like the other kids. Can't wear makeup because of my skin. Still have acne since I was 12. In my case it's genetic. Never understood romance or relationships or boys.
I always shy and quiet and bookish. And I think my mum had always been ashamed of that.
But I think this is the worst it's ever been. The worst I've ever been. And that's saying a lot considering I was crazy before. I'm even worse now.
Haven't trained much. Don't have six pack abs. Certainly not MMA material. No motivation. No drive. I have the passion and the interest, and I'm never going to quit my martial arts!
I just know somethings changed me. Alternated me permanently. I'm more introspective, sure. But still a freak.
And maybe its better this way.
I would like to move out at some point and just do my own thing. Continue to be introverted and nerdy. But not having an income and trying to get back into work while living in one of the most expensive cities in the world and not having a hope in hell of being able to live in my own home Borough...
Maybe it's easier just to be like this. Even though living with my mum doesn't help my already shattered mental state.
I'm just used to it now.
Maybe I am emotionally dead. I think I always was.
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lace--space · 2 years
Text
Ron Weasley - Love goes a long way
Mention of sex
You woke up to the feeling of Ron’s hand on your stomach. You loved this moment, every morning the same thing, his hands rubbing your stomach, tracing with his fingers. You turned around in his grasp, facing him. You kissed his lips, knowing that he probably wouldn’t reciprocate because of his sleeping state. He moved slightly, but other than that he stayed perfectly still in your arms. You traced your fingers through his hair. 
“Baby,” You whispered, “You gotta get up.” You kissed him once more, this time Ron kissed back. You kissed him another couple times. His lips smooth and his tongue ever so agile. 
“Time to get up.” You tried again. You pulled yourself out of his grasp and climbed out of bed. 
“Come on.” 
“Okay, okay, I’m coming.” He murmured. “I’m coming.” He rubbed his eyes.
You made your way towards the kitchen and started making pancakes. This is what you always did when Ron stayed over at your place. The two of you have been together for almost a year now. 
“Hey, you hear about that party Harry’s giving?” Ron asked as he entered the kitchen. 
“Yeah, it’s tonight, right?” 
“Yup, at his place. Should we go?”
“It’s your best friend, of course we should go.” You pointed out. 
“Cool.” 
The rest of the day you chilled around the house, sometimes reading with your feet across Ron’s lap. Sometimes just kissing until it grew to something more. 
“Have I told you I love you, today?” Ron muttered, caressing you, tracing his fingers on your back. 
“Mmm, nope.”
“Well, I love you very much.” You smiled before kissing him again.
“I love you too.” 
A couple hours later it was time for you and Ron to make your way over to the Potter’s.You were excited to go, you missed Ginny, Hermione and Fleur and was happy to spend some time with them again.
“Hi!” You said loudly, trying to make yourself heard above the music. You hugged the girls before turning to Ron.
“I’m going to hang with the girls for a while, is that okay?”
“Of course, I'm going to try and find Harry.” You two exchanged ‘I love you’s and you went on with your group. 
“So, Ginny, how's life being pregnant?” You asked, her belly now really noticeable. 
“You know I feel great, even with all the little aches. I’m just so happy we are expecting this baby that I barely even notice when something is bothering me.” 
“I’m so happy for you two.” You said sweetly. 
“Fleur, how are things with you and Bill?” Hermione asked.
“We’re trying, but nothing just yet.” Fleur muttered.
“I’m sure it will happen, maybe even when you least expect it.” You tried helpfully. 
“Yeah, you’re right, we’ll just have to wait a bit longer.” 
“I’m going to try and find Ron, see you girls later.” You said, standing up from the couch you were sitting on and making your way through the crowd until your eyes finally laid on Ron.
“Hey Babe, Harry. How are you doing?”
“Really great Y/N, I can’t wait to meet our baby.”
“I can understand that.”
“Babe?” ron questioned.
“Yeah?”
“No. You called me babe.”
“Yeah, I do that all the time.” You laughed.
“Why?”
“Because I love you.” You looked at Ron weirdly. “What are you on about?” 
“Don’t call me babe. We have nothing.” Ron said angrily. 
“What’s going on?” Now getting worried. Harry looked at you confused. 
“Ron, why are you acting this way?” He asked.
“Where’s Eline?”
“Eline?” You questioned. “ Who’s Eline?”
“Eline,” Ron started, “The love of my life.”
“What!” Both you and Harry bellowed. Ron walked away from the two of you, presumably to find this Eline.
Tears started falling from your eyes. What was happening. How could he be so rude. You were each other's love. You were supposed to live the rest of your lives together. You were full on crying now. You staggered your way to the girls. 
“Y/N?! What happened?” Ginny asked. 
“He’s in love with someone else.” You blurted out.
“Who?” Fleur started, “Ron?” She laughed like she thought you were joking. 
“He loves Eline. I don’t even know a Eline.” You sniffled. The girls all huddled around you.
“We are always here for you.” Hermione said.”And we’ll figure out what’s wrong with Ron, because he clearly is not thinking right.”  
“Let me take you home. This place is not the kind you want to hang around right now.” Fleur said, her accent clear in every word. You nodded at her and stood up, holding her hand, she apperated and took you with her. You appeared in your living room.
“Okay, get yourself a warm drink and then straight to bed. One of us will contact you tomorrow to see how you are.” You nodded and gave Fleur a strong hug.
“Thank you.” Once Fleur was gone your anger flared. 
You picked up a vase in the living room and threw it on the ground, you moved onto the kitchen and threw every plate you could get your hands on. You were so angry. How could he do this to you? How could he say he loved you and then move on 3 hours later to a chick you’ve never even heard of. 
You choose a shot of vodka over the warm drink Fleur had advised and then cried yourself to sleep in your kingsize bed that felt way too big without Ron in it.
The following day all the girls came over to your house to discuss the situation. 
“How are you holding up?” Hermione asked. 
“I’m not. I’m devastated. He is the love of my life.” Ginny ran her hand softly over your back. 
“I wish I knew what’s wrong with him, Ron told me he loved you after just six weeks, whenever we talked he would talk my ear off about you.”
“How can someone change so much in so little time. You said angrily. 
Hermione stood up from the couch.
“What if,” She started, “What if it's a love potion again. Remember. Like back at Hogwarts?” All your eyes turned big. What if it was a love potion. That would mean Ron didn’t fall in love with Eline, but he would still be in love with you.
“Oh Merlin, what if…” Fleur muttered. 
“How do we make an antidote?” Ginny asked Hermione. 
“Oh it’s quite easy. You add four wiggentree twigs, or until the potion turns green. Stir until the potion turns orange. Add caster oil until the potion turns blue. See, real simple.” Hermione stated. 
“Can you make it now? We need to try it on Ron, see if it works.” Ginny asked. 
“Well, I’ll go home and make it. I’ll be back once it’s done. Shouldn’t take too long.” 
All of you said goodbye to Hermione and sat down on the couch or chair. You handed Fleur a glass of white wine and Ginny a glass of orange juice considering her state. You yourself opened up a bottle of rose and poured yourself a generous glass.
An hour went by and Hermione apparated into the living room, potion held heroically in her hand. 
“Ta-da!” She said triumphantly. 
“Great. Now how do we make Ron drink this?”  You asked.
“Easy, give it to me.” Ginny said, holding out her hand to receive the antidote. Hermione handed it to Ginny.
“What are you planning to do?” She asked.
“You’ll see.” 
They all apparated to the burrow.
“Ron?” Ginny yelled. 
“Roh-on!” She tried again. 
“Yeah, yeah, I'm coming.” You looked expectantly at Ginny, the other girls did too. Ron emerged from the stairwell. 
“What’s going on?” He questioned. 
“Here, drink this.”
“Why, what is it?”
“Just drink it.” Ginny sighed. And so he did. 
“Mmm, that’s quite nice.” He said, looking at the bottle. 
“Hey babe, what are you doing here?” He said looking over to you. You let out a breath of air. 
“Just hanging out with the girls.” You said relieved. He walked up to you and gave you a kiss. 
“And all’s back to normal.” Fleur said happily. 
“Back to normal? What happened?” Ron asked.
“I’ll tell you about it later, promise.” You kissed him back and cuddled into his arms. This is how it is supposed to be. The two of you together, living your lives together.
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abombihoney · 3 years
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No offense to the people that felt that way, but I’m honestly not sure how you can get bad vibes from Bianca: she just seemed very nice to me. I like to imagine that, even if she can’t feasibly be motherly to all the bees, Bianca tries her best to love them like a mother should: she just had trouble tending to individual issues, like with Vi. On that note, do you have any ideas for less tragic fics? Obviously it’s your stuff, do what you want, I’m just curious. Thanks for answering, by the way!
oh yeah bianca just cant be a good ruler and a good mother at the same time. theres too many kids and not enough time. and she obviously loves and cares for every single on of them. but loving someone doesnt mean you cant hurt them.
and on ppl not liking bianca even tho shes rlly nice. do u remember that bit after you save the factory? where u interrupt bianca chewing out a guard? and then she immediately does an about face when she sees the team?
on one hand, this a queen whos upset bc her ppl and her guests had their lives threatened.
on the other you have her yelling at someone for a disaster no one could predict.
sorry if u didnt want an explanation, i live to talk but i tried to keep it short and sweet
--
i do have story ideas that arent nearly as sad!
sveral short little things abt day to day things that i think would be cute. exploring the relationships that team snakemouth has with NPCs (ex: leifs friendship w that guy who really likes food)
--
i also have another post game one. where team snakemouth is sent to escort hb, hawk, neolith, and crow to snakemouth den so they can do research on all the roach stuff.
and basically exploring things abt leif that didnt much screen time. like that he can read roach. that he lived before the roaches disappeared. and how he would explain these things.
and then in the labs, having the scientists be able to help him understand whats happened to him. what he is exactly. hiw he works and what he can do to take care of himself since hes a little different from everyone else. maybe even seeing if theres a way to help the other cordyceps in the lab! they obv have the potential for sentience.
and dont forget that leif has to reveal things abt himself for this.
--
oh and i have a post abt it somewhere a zombie prince au. a fairy tale esque one where leif stays awake and doesnt age. he locks himself in with the other cordyceps. partially to keep bugs safe and partially to keep the other cordyceps safe.
as the most intelligent: leif and zommoth 'rule' the other zombies. tho its more that theyre just in charge and keep the other zombies alive and as happy as they can be.
but then we have baby kabbu and vi who are playing explorers in the outskirts. and stumble into snakemouth den, cause kids can always get into things that are forbidden. esp if they are small and like to explore.
and leif finds them and of course theyre terrified lol. but he befriends them, mostly so he can get them out of here and then prevent them from getting back in.
and he does get them out and block however they got in. but they keep coming back and leif gets attached despite working very hard not to. just classic monster man is adopted by precocious children plot
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360iris · 3 years
Text
Wanna Be Down (George Weasley x Reader x Fred Weasley)
Warnings: Pure smut! She/her pronouns for the reader! No funny business between the boys I promise! There’s bound to be some typo that I missed, sorry ‘bout that!
Word count: 1,628
Summary: There’s a birthday, a bunny costume and The Twins... What could go wrong?
A/N: This was originally meant to drop on their birthday, April 1st... I’m 28 days late for that but hey, better late than never! It’s been collecting dust for the entire time and I wanted to set it free. I hope someone enjoys it!
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“You want me to- to wear a bunny outfit and have the two of you…” You faltered nervously, the words seemed foreign on your tongue.
“-fuck you in it.” Fred finished for you with a wide grin, as if this was the most in the ordinary activity to plan.
The twins wanted to sleep with you? This was the first you’d heard of it, that’s for sure. And though the thought sent waves of excitement through your body, the prospect was daunting.
You’d been friends since diapers, a meager six hours separating your births. And whether the bond that formed later was predetermined by fate, or by pure chance, it was wholly indestructible.
Through the years, the three of you operated perfectly insync. Remaining quite persistently glued at the hip; completing every task deemed worthy enough as an odd unit.
There was an unspoken rule that each of you would make sure that the others felt equally included in activities.
So why should taking your virginity be any different?
“We’ll be twenty in a few hours, Y/N. Don’t you want to kick off the new decade with a bang?” George asked, his face genuine and voice laced with just the right amount of sweetness. He always did know how to persuade you into going along with Fred’s crazy schemes.
“Quite literally in this instance.” Fred added cheekily and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.
“Both of you have had sex before though. Plenty of times in fact! You told me about it afterwards! In vivid detail at that! Why are you so worried about me now?” Your brows were furrowed, lips turned downwards in a pout.
Sitting criss-cross on your bed, you tugged one of the many pillows on your bed into your lap. Squeezing it tighter when you met their gazes again.
Fred had his hands tucked into his jean pockets, happy as ever. He acted as if it was only a matter of time before he’d get the answer he wanted.
George on the other hand, at least looked like he was having a conversation with you; and not like he was just waiting for you to realize you’d never actually said no to them before. His eyes were soft, assessing your demeanor before approaching your spot at the foot of the bed.
“You know you’re our favorite girl. Don’t you, Y/N?” He questioned and you suddenly felt smaller looking directly up at him. Ginger waves caressing his cheeks and pooling at his shoulders.
“I mean- I suppose.” You replied dumbly.
“Who do we always come back home to?” He asked again, his left hand lifting up from his side to comb through your hair. The pads of his fingers brushing against your cheek as they went.
“Me.” Your answer was hushed, though it was only the three of you in the flat. They’d closed the shop downstairs hours ago.
“And who trails after me as much as she can during the day, practically jumping into my lap the first opportunity she gets?” His voice was getting lower and his gaze remained fixed to you, you tried your best not to squirm.
“M- Me.”
“Lastly, whose the babygirl that slips into my bed at three in the morning because she stays up too late and gets scared?” He was teasing you now, you knew it, but still gave him a reply.
“Me, George.” Both of his hands were cupping your face now, fingertips laced in your hair, you couldn’t look away even if you wanted to.
“So when I ask my favorite girl to put on the outfit I picked out for her, so I can make her feel good on her birthday, what do you think I want to hear back?” A single brow arched as he waited for your answer, ignoring Fred’s quiet “I helped choose it too, y’know.”
Wrapping your fingers around his wrists, you thought about all the times he and Fred had slept with other girls. How deep down you’d wished they’d looked at you the same way.
He allowed you to remove one of his hands, a dark smirk splitting across his face when you’d slowly brought it between your legs. Only coming to a stop when he was cupping your heat.
“I think- I think I’ve been holding out for you.” It was no higher than a whisper, but it’d been the truth nonetheless. He smiled wider at this confession, leaning in and pressing a light kiss on your forehead.
“All the more reason not to disappoint.” He responded, you faintly registered rustling from behind him.
“Y/N, dear?” Fred called.
“Hm?”
“Time to put the outfit on.”
It’d been relatively easy to slip into the get-up. The bodysuit, wrist cuffs and neck piece fitting like a glove.
“When did you get my measurements?” You asked, looking down at yourself.
“Since when have we not had your measurements?” Fred laughed, pulling you onto the bed with him until your back was flush against his chest. Your head comfortably leaning back on his left shoulder.
George following after you, settled for sitting up in front of you, his knees digging into the pink duvet.
“The ears are a nice touch.” He remarked with a pleased smirk. “Don’t you agree, Fred?”
“Absolutely. All white suits her.” He replied matter-a-factly, hands already roaming your torso. Ghosting over your exposed thighs, he hooked a finger under the bikini line of the bodysuit and let it snap back into place. Your hips jutted outwards at the impact.
“Want to hear you ask for it, Y/N.” George was palming your calves, making you feel small again.
“What do you want me to say?” Your brows furrowed curiously at the request, breath hitching when he utilized his grip to pull you further down Fred’s chest. Your ankles eventually hooking against George’s shoulders.
“Want him to play with your little cunt, don’t you baby?” Fred asked from above you, heat rushing to your face at his words.
“Y- Yeah.”
“Then ask, darling.” He grinned at your eyes widening as you met his gaze upside down.
Turning your attention back to George, you absentmindedly bit at the end your thumb nervously. Sure you’d used curse words like anyone else in the world, but the thought of actually asking the twins to fuck you was on a level you’d never thought you’d reach.
“Georgie?” You tried carefully.
“What is it, baby?” He replied softly, a smile playing on his lips, patiently waiting.
“Want- Want you to make me feel good.”
“How?” He prompted, delighting in your fidgeting. Fred however wasn’t feeling as patient, sending a soft smack to your inner thigh.
“Don’t have all day, bunny.” He chided, slowly massaging the site.
“Want your cock, Georgie.” You finally relented, wanting nothing more than to hide your face in your hands, but you feared being spanked again by Fred. 
George rewarded you with a kiss, palming your clit through the material. He swallowed up every whimper that escaped your lips, only answering by expertly thumbing the area faster. 
“Let’s see how wet you are, bun.” Fred whispered, pulling the bodysuit aside to reveal your heat. Running a finger through your folds, he promptly brought it to your mouth. Smirking widely when you began meekly sucking at the digit.
“I’m gonna get you ready, okay sweetheart?” George asked, mouthing at your neck. He didn’t move until you garbled something close to “okay” through Fred’s fingers sadistically pressing down your throat.
Armed with plenty of lube, the first finger sliding into you felt like nothing. By the third, he resorted to distracting you by rubbing your bud to ease the initial stretch. Although nothing could have prepared you for how uncomfortable taking his tip was.
It was a slow process, full of the boys tenderly guiding you to breathe deeply and relax your muscles. With the abundance of their attention focused on outweighing the discomfort with pleasure, eventually the mild pain began to blur around the edges. 
The level of satisfaction that rolled over you when you’d finally reached the hilt was like no other. 
“Good girl.” Fred purred into your hair as George wiped away a stray tear from the corner of your eye. “Took it like a champ, didn’t she, Georgie boy?”
“Sure did, Fred. Squeezing me so nicely too.” He replied smiling proudly.
“Full- So full.” You whimpered blearily, not sure which boy you were grasping for. Each accepted one of your wandering hands, giving them an encouraging squeeze.
“You’re doing so well, babygirl. How about you let me make you feel good now, hm?” George’s voice was gruff as he patiently waited for you to nod back in response.
Soon the discomfort had melted away, leaving only the easy slide of George’s length and the gratification of being engulfed between the loves of your life. 
You promptly got lost in the jumble of mouths, hands and pleasure. 
“Gonna come for us, love?” George asked, holding your hips done to focus his thrusts. 
“Can I- Can I, please? Please let me come!” You whined desperately, unable to distinguish whose hands belonged to who.
“Go ahead, bunny.” George answered and it was all you needed to hear. Your visioned blurred as your toes curled, the only thing you could register was that he was fucking you through it. Fred’s fingers circling your clit didn’t let up until you were pathetically trying to pull at his wrist.
A weak mewl fell from your lips as George pulled out of you spent. Simpering under his praises, you closed your eyes. 
The sudden smack against your face was sobering, leaving you blurrily blinking up at Fred’s eager grin.
“I hope you didn’t think you were off the clock, bun.”
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goldengoddess · 3 years
Note
hi i have a kaz x reader request!! can you do one where kaz proposes to the reader?? that seems so cute tbh
will you marry me - kaz brekker
pairing: kaz brekker x reader
a/n: i listened to helpless from the hamilton musical while writing this so do with that what you will,,,, kaz would definitely do this just so u know (idk if kaz would consider marrige but if he did this is how it would go)
warnings: nothing ?? proposals ? kaz it a tiny bit more touchy :)
kaz brekker was not one for romantic gestures, frankly he it quite the opposite. every confession of love was silent, hidden, usually given in the privacy of his room.
but he knew you.
and he knew that proposals were meant to be romantic gestures. they were meant to represent the start of a different era of love. he’d heard you tell nina about a hundred times how romantic your parents proposal had been. he’d seen the dreamy look in your eyes the time a public proposal had happened in front of the two of you.
so he was dead set on making sure his proposal to you was everything you wanted it to be. and if there was one thing dirty hands was good at, it was making a solid plan. and a couple solid back up plans.
so he was very annoyed to see your annoyed face on the morning he was going to propose to you. 
you grumbled as you walked across the room to the kitchen where you could finally get some coffee. over her own mug, nina chuckled at your state. “looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed” she giggled and took a sip of what was probably hot chocolate. 
you mumbled a quick ‘fuck you’ and made your way closer to kaz. you quickly planted a good morning kiss on his cheek like you always did. it was part of your routine, that way he knew it was coming and was never surprised or taken aback by the act. your grumpy mood chipped away a little at the way that kaz’s lips quirked upwards as you pulled away. 
you shuffled over to the coffee pitcher just as jesper made his way into the room. he was humming something under his breath and you leaned your head closer so you could listen.
you furrowed your brows in confusion, “jesper? why are you humming the wedding song?”
he stopped in his tracks and shared a quick look with nina and then kaz. he turned to you and grinned, “no reason! just in a good mood, excited for our job later today.”
you huffed and shook your head, “at least one of us is.”
the rest of the day went by the way they always do before a big heist: slowly. it consisted of jesper running around the slat pumped up with too much adrenaline. inej taking out all of her smaller knives from their hiding spots (who knew she kept three under the couch cushions) and strapping them to her sides. wylan drawing out the outline of the mercher house one more time. matthias grumbling about the legality and necessity of what they were doing. nina sitting on his lap so he would shut up. 
and kaz, your sweet kaz, going over the plan in his head while observing you. 
later on, as you were all in your respective positions for the job, you couldn’t help but wonder why kaz had paired the two of you together. when the two of you had started dating, he had told you that he couldn’t trust his own instincts around you. and for that reason, you were always paired with another crow and he usually worked with jesper of inej. but not tonight. 
“kaz?” you questioned, “why are you and i working together tonight?”
you didn’t notice the way his hands hesitated on the lock that he was currently trying to pick. he turned to you and your breath caught in your throat, like you were seeing him for the first time again. it was midnight, there was little light anywhere. but somehow the moonlight illuminated kaz’s face perfectly. he looked beautiful. 
he shrugged and went back to his lock, “just thought it could be interesting to switch things up. this job is simple enough, nothing will go wrong.”
his words set you off slightly. your kaz would never take a chance like that. it wasn’t his style. kaz tended to ignore the odds, but never when it came to you. he’d promised a long time ago to not let his own grudges or greed put you in harms way. what was different about tonight?
before you could ask him, the lock clicked open and kaz swung the door to the hallway open. he extended his arm in invitation, “after you.”
you narrowed your eyes at him but stepped into the room. you took a deep breath and felt yourself relax at the oddly familiar scent of roses. you scanned the room and felt a smile slip into your face at the sight of yellow roses. waking closer to them, you ghosted your hands over the petals. 
you looked over at kaz with a small smile, and found he was already smiling at you. “your favorite flower” he said, stepping right next to you. 
you nodded your head in awe, you hadn’t seen yellow roses in a very long time. kaz dipped his hand into the vase and snapped the step of one of the flowers. he turned to you and handed you a single rose. you grinned and took the flower from him, tucking it gently into your backpack. “thank you honey” you giggled and then quietly moved down the hall. 
kaz stopped you in front of a room with a golden and elaborately decorated door. he motioned for you to open the door and you nodded your head, following his instruction. when you walked in the room was practically empty. the only thing inside was a glass case at the center of the room. you tip toed closer and found a tiny jewelry box. you slowly opened the glass casing and grabbed the small jewelry box, assuming this was the ‘big prize’ kaz had claimed they would find during this job. 
“open it” you heard kaz say from behind you. 
so without looking at him, you opened the tiny black box. what was inside, took the air out of your lungs. it was a tiny silver ring with a shiny black stone at the center. without realizing, you let out a little gasp. 
you started turning your body to face kaz, “kaz what is-”
but before you could say anything you found kaz kneeling on one knee, firmly holding onto his cane for the balance. you let out yet another gasp and nearly dropped the likely expensive ring in your hand. 
“angel” he started speaking
“kaz,” you interrupted him breathlessly, “what are you doing?”
he gave you his favorite mischievous smile, the smile that didn’t quiet reach his eyes but shined playfully in his eyes. “i’m doing my best to propose darling.”
another gasp on your part. 
he chuckled, “i have spent a lot of my life closing off my heart. making it impossible to reach. but then you came along and broke down my walls brick by brick. and impossibly, my heart became yours forever. so i thought it was only appropriate to put a much deserved ring on your finger. so, what do you say angel? will you marry me?”
you let out a small sniffle, happy tears falling down your cheeks. “yes! i want to marry you, i do!” you laughed happily and rushed over to kaz.
you helped him to his feet and he smiled, “excited are we? you’re not supposed to say ‘i do’ just yet darling.”
you lightly punched his shoulder. you moved your eyes to his lips and then back to his eyes, asking for permission. his grin and the quick nod of his head told you everything and you surged forward to kiss him. 
after a few seconds you pulled back and you know that you’ve never smiled as brightly as you are in that moment, “you never fail to surprise me brekker. can’t believe you pulled off a fake heist just for me.”
“i’d do anything for you” he answered quickly. 
“even marry me?”
“especially marry you.” 
taglist;
@vintagebitc @obiwansjedi @thegirlwiththeimpala @hybrid-in-progress @mrs-brekker15 @mrsbrekkers @simplyluvzuko @ode-to-joy @gallysonegoodlung @sixofshadowandbone @castielcouldbeasecretdentist @meiitanoia @caaarstairs @itisroe @the-jess-life @xsamsharons @heavenlymidnight @wtfrae @dreamer-writer-fangirl @bookishcrows @tulipsxbooks @thehighladyofday @seven-halfbloods
if your name is in bold it means i couldn’t tag you!
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no-droids · 3 years
Text
Beginner’s Luck
Tumblr media
Part Twelve of the Rough Day Series
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 14.6K
Warnings: 👀👀👀 SMUT.  Oral sex (male receiving), cockwarming, sexual acts in public, the use of blasters and other canon-typical weaponry
A/N: Twas the night before Mando season 2, and all through the house—NO IM JUST KIDDING SDKSFKSVS anyways I am so sorry for not being here for basically all of last month but I could not miss this incredibly momentous occasion for anything. Merry season 2 my lovely baby yoditos
***
“Well,” a modulated voice gruffs expectantly from behind you, clearly tired of waiting.  “Turn around, let me see.”
“No.  I look ridiculous,” you sulk from the corner of the hull, refusing to do as he says.  You thought this was stupid from the very beginning and openly told him so, but you’re also a complete pushover for him with just enough backbone to be frustrated when you inevitably give in.  “And don’t you ‘sweet girl’ me, it’s not gonna work this time.”
“Sweet girl,” Din’s deep voice lulls through the helmet, raspy and soft.
Fucking fine, if he’s gonna twist your arm about it.  You spin around with a deep frown and a chrome visor stares back at you as you waddle forwards, and you don’t even need to look at the kid cradled in his forearm to know he’s smiling toothily as you clunk and rattle.  Once you’re standing directly in front of them both, you blow the stray hair out of your eyes and plant your hands on your hips, just waiting for the inevitable response.
Only, you don’t get practically any response at all from him.  He stays perfectly still and says absolutely nothing, and though the baby’s mouth falls open with happiness and he reaches for you, he doesn’t make a sound either.
“I told you,” you grumble after a few moments of pained silence.  “I look ridiculous.”
Still, nothing.  You purse your lips, shifting from side to side uncomfortably, and eventually your suspicion grows and festers until it finally bursts forth.  Oh for the love of Maker—
“I know you’re laughing under there,” you accuse with a growl.  He doesn’t move a single muscle but you don’t buy it, not for a single fucking second.
Then suddenly the helmet glances away from you and stares purposefully at the wall of the hull as the kid starts giggling, and you knew it.  You fucking knew he was laughing.
“You look great,” comes tightly through the modulator after a moment, and you pull your lip up into a snarl, vindicated in your findings but not happy about it.
“Is that how this is supposed to protect me?”  You wave your arms, hearing them squeak and clank like you’re a droid that hasn’t been maintenanced in centuries.  The rough metal jerks up and smacks your chin with the shoulder movement and you grimace.  “Make the bad guys laugh themselves to death?”
“It's bad,” Din finally turns back to you and admits with zero shame, and your cheeks burn at how stupid you must look right now.  “Way too big.”
“Too big?”  You blink at him.  “That’s your criticism?”
When he presented it to you, your first impression was some sort of brown paint—but no.  It’s fucking… rust.  It’s damaged and scraped up and it looks like it’s been through the ringer and back, and not in a way that gives it character.  There’s almost a literal hole in the fucking chestpiece and it’s dented so much that it actually creates more than enough space for your breasts, what the fuck happened—?
“You’re telling me you went from this—”  You ask pointedly, knocking your knuckles against the ill-fitting piece of metal and feeling it wobble against your chest, “—to that—” you tap the pristine, gleaming armor strapped to his body that easily costs more than probably quadruple your entire life, “—without any go-betweens?  It’s missing one of the shoulders, Din.”
He ignores you, flipping the chestpiece over your head with his free hand and letting the metallic clatter of it meeting the floor behind you ring out through the hull.  “I’d hoped at least something would fit,” comes his filtered sigh.  “This planet isn’t nice.”
That sobers you up a bit, and you feel your heart thump painfully.  “Are we on Corellia?”  You ask without thinking.
“No,” he tells you immediately, quelling your panic while pulling off your one singular pauldron.  “Tatooine.”
You’ve never heard of it, but from the grave undertone of his voice, you know the drill.  Different setting, same kind of people.  Smugglers, rogues, criminals—the type he’s used to being around and knows exactly what to expect out of them.  You always feel safe when he’s with you, but when he leaves?
“Oh,” you say, because you don’t really have anything else.  It’s quiet for a little bit, but then he continues on before you can come up with something to fill the sudden uncertainty on your end.
“I know someone here,” Din murmurs, bending his knees and sinking down to start undoing and pulling the shoddy thigh braces off your legs.  “Someone… nice.  It’ll be safe as long as nobody sees me leaving or coming back, and the kid would be happy to see her.”
Your eyebrows pull inwards, something… unfamiliar settling inside you.  Din doesn’t have friends, he’s made it clear that he doesn’t really like anyone that he knows well enough to introduce you to.  Even when he’s lowered himself in front of you and is technically undressing you, you feel a spark of… no, not jealousy, that’s crazy.  But for real, who is he talking about?
“Why can’t me and the baby just lay low somewhere remote like normal?”  You ask instead, but he shakes his head.
“No such thing,” he grunts, pulling off the other thigh brace.  “Tuskans or Jawas will find you even in the middle of the Dune Sea.”
“I like Jawas,” you blurt, having had many positive experiences trading with the little creatures on Arvala-7, but his helmet immediately tilts up to pin you in place and you shut up, feeling the tangible unamusement radiating from the thin blade of the visor even when the kid starts giggling again.  “I mean I… don’t like Jawas?”
Din sighs and rises back up to his full height, finally handing the baby over to you now that you’re not weighed down by that ridiculous getup anymore.  “You can either stay with her while I get the quarry or run the risk of pirates finding you drifting above the atmosphere,” he reasons bluntly, not mincing words.  “But it’s not a good idea to be stuck on the surface without protection, someone will find you.”
You bite your lip, hugging the kid closer to your chest for a second.  “Okay, that’s fine,” you murmur quietly after a moment.  “We can stay with your… friend.”  
You clear your throat and move to let him pass by to get to the cockpit, except Din doesn’t take a single step.  You blink up at him and after what feels like an eternity of no response, the helmet slowly tilts sideways at you and… oops.
Was that not subtle?  You didn’t know what to call her, genuinely, that’s why you hesitated.  You didn’t want to use the word acquaintance, it felt too detached for the fact that he said the kid would be happy to see her again.  That’s what’s called a friend, right?  
Maker, why are you being so weird about this?
Thankfully, you end up getting away with it.  After a few painful seconds of looking at every single thing in the hull besides him and humming a song you make up on the spot, Din slowly walks past and disappears up into the cockpit.  You take a deep breath and gently rub the baby’s ears between your fingers as the Crest powers up with a ferocious rumble beneath your feet.
***
It’s bright.  Fuck, it’s so bright here.  You hold the kid to your chest with one hand and shield your eyes with the other as the ramp slowly descends, dust immediately kicking up around it.  Din’s palm is resting against your lower back and his thumb gently brushes back and forth, but your heart decides to drop the very moment his hand does, and as soon as the ramp clanks against the landing platform, he’s striding down into the blazing hot desert sun without you.
Something in your chest squeezes and whispers to you that he probably doesn’t want to touch you when he’s about to see an old friend again, so you wait a few seconds of space before descending down the ramp behind him, not really knowing how you feel right now.  But you’ve barely taken a single step to follow when a woman’s voice screeches out from across a vast distance.  “Oh no, no no no—don’t you even think about it!”
Din slows to a halt at the end of the ramp and gives whoever it is a small nod, nothing beyond it, and if you weren’t purposefully looking at him for cues right now, you’d probably miss the greeting entirely.  You stand on your tippy-toes from behind his cape as a fiery little middle-aged lady in a mechanic’s jumpsuit marches up to him with an attitude that more than makes up for the height difference.
“You’re not allowed here anymore,” she pokes his chestplate brazenly with one hand and props the other on her hip, clearly not excited to see him.  “Not after the ruckus you caused last time, no sir, not on my watch.”
“That won’t happen again,” he gruffs shortly, not providing a single thing beyond it, and you blink.  What… what happened last time?
“It sure won’t!”  The strange woman agrees shrilly, crossing her arms and widening her eyes until she looks a bit like she’s been out in the suns too long.  “I’m still recovering, Mando!”
“I compensated you,” he reminds her, a quiet edge of frustration beginning to creep into his voice.
She suddenly narrows her expression at him, going from manic desert lady to sharp and discerning skeptic within a split second.  “How much do you think my life is worth?”
Din takes forever to respond, seeming to either be choosing his words very carefully or grinding his teeth under the beskar in frustration.  Probably both.  “I brought my ki—”
“You bring trouble!”  She bursts out, stomping her foot on the dusty landing platform and holding her ground.  “I don’t care how cute your little one is, go park your ship on some other poor soul’s hangar bay!”
He doesn’t say anything back, staying completely silent while you stand there awkwardly and wait for his response, and it’s almost like you… forgot.  How quiet Din can be, how unnervingly little he can choose to offer to conversations until he deems the information absolutely necessary to provide.  He allows you to forget that reserved nature of his.  He talks to you.  He never used to at the beginning, but somewhere along the way it just became increasingly common to hear his voice, both with a high-pass filter and blissfully without.  Now though, there’s just too long of a weirdly tense pause in the reunion for you to handle without doing something about it.
So you step out from behind him with the child in your arms, giving her an apologetic smile with as much friendliness as you can possibly put into an expression.
“Hello,” you greet her gently, musically, lifting the baby’s hand to give her a companionable three-fingered wave from the both of you while he coos.  “I promise I’m not trouble, but he did bring me along this time.”
Din and the woman simultaneously turn to look at you; her like you’re just as strange and jarring of a sight to see on this planet as the tiny unnamed boy in your arms and him like your voice by itself is enough to loosen his shoulders.  Though neither one of them ultimately respond to you, you can tell by the way his fists unclench that you’ve at least helped him relax, even if the frizzy-haired lazy otherwise ignores your introduction entirely.
“Now just what in Maker’s name are you doing with a poor little stowaway like that?”  She faces him and pokes his armor again.  “You runnin’ a charity out of that battered piece of junk you call a ship?”
“Three hundred credits to let them stay with you for a week,” he turns back to tell her, cutting directly to the chase.  Alright, so you don’t really understand their relationship at all at this point.  He said she was nice?  And yet he’s already bribing her that handsomely?
“Five hundred,” she immediately shoots back, and your heart sinks.  Fuck, there’s no way.  There’s no way he would spend that much, you’re going to have to find somewhere else to stay.
But… he doesn’t respond.  Which you now remember with a jolt of surprise, means confirmation.  Not wasting words agreeing, he’d say something back to her if he had an issue.  Maker, five hundred credits.  You’re starting to wonder if he’s really able to make any money at all doing this, or if the job is just… fitting for him, so he continues to do it.  He’s spending more and more credits on you every single time you turn around, and while you don’t feel great about it, you know Din well enough to know he’s stable and independent enough to make the decisions he wants to make.
So you just stand there and hold the baby to your chest, unsure of your place, while Din eventually turns around to face you.
Sometimes, if you’re being honest, you almost find yourself wanting to… do soft things with him that you know you shouldn’t while other people are around.  Granted, he’s never told you not to, but the last thing you want to do is undermine his reputation by unintentionally revealing his gentler side.  You want to give him a hug and maybe hand him the baby to say goodbye, but you don’t know if that’s how he wants to present himself to company right now.  Unfortunately, that ends up translating into you just looking at him and awkwardly waiting to see what he does.  Your feelings won’t be hurt if he just takes off without another word now that you know that that’s his intent—you promise, they weren’t hurt the first fifty or so times he’s done it.  You understand him, it’s alright, he doesn’t need to—
But then he leans in and lowers his voice until only you can hear it.
“I’ll be back soon,” he tells you, and you feel warmth creep into your chest.
You understand him.  Which is why you feel like you could almost burst with how much he didn’t have to say that but chose to do so anyway.  You already have a solid time frame—a week—which is more information than you usually get, and it’s such a small thing.  It’s insane; if you made a list, you’d have 1) talking to you, 2) knowing his first name, and 3) seeing a glimpse of his forehead as your top reasons why he might care just as much about you as you care for him.  That’s insane.
He takes a second to reach a glove out and rub the baby’s ear as he makes his adorable little baby noises up at him, before the helmet tilts back up just slightly to look at you.  
“Be safe,” he waits for you to whisper back.
And you think now is finally the time to go, right?  Except he waits just a few precious seconds more, just holding there, silently.  Maker, you don’t want to miss him, why is he doing this to you?  You’re trying to play it cool, see-you-later’s have been commonplace between you for nearing a full year now, so why does it feel like now is the first time he truly doesn’t want to go?
You hold the kid with one hand and start to reach for him the split second he turns to walk away, and you quickly drop it as the dry wind snaps through his cape.  He leaves and doesn’t look back.
Still, you watch him disappear, until eventually you’re reminded of your host’s presence with the tap of a wrench against your shoulder.
“Hope you know your way around a hyperdrive,” the woman says with a smirk.  Maker, Din didn’t even give you her name, you’re going to have to ask.  “Gotta repair at least two of ‘em by sundown.”
You catch the hefty tool with your free hand and turn to her.  “Pre-Imperial or post?  Never done a restoration, but I’m a quick learner.”
She blinks at you like that was probably the last thing she expected you to say, but you give her the same friendly smile from before and look towards the entrance of the hangar for the ships needing maintenance.
***
So Peli is… a character.
She’s quick and entertaining and whip-smart, but you worry that if she had a whip, she might actually use it.  She’s nice—she is, but she damn near works you to the bone once you prove yourself capable.  You don’t think she expected the extent of your practical knowledge of mechanics, she went into it assuming you were going to be useless and did a hard U-turn that very first night.  You both worked together to fix two malfunctioning hyperdrives by sundown, just like she told you she needed, but then she looked vaguely surprised and nobody showed to pick up until two days later.
The second day is more hectic, and the third day is worse.  You cradle the kid on your hip while you work one-handed, smudged grease all over your forehead and sweat sticking your hair to your neck.  Using Peli’s sonic shower never leaves you feeling clean no matter how many times a day you find yourself wanting to wash the dust and grime from your body, the same way yours used to back on Arvala-7, and you immediately get why her dark hair seems so frizzy and dry whenever you step out of the stall and catch sight of the similar rat’s nest on your head in the small mirror.  Hypersonic waves dry it out more than the blazing hot suns on this planet—you look the same exact way you’ve looked for decades and while you don’t mind hard work, you can’t stand the complete lack of water on this forsaken rock.
Din was right, though.  She is nice, but in a way that she never wants anybody else to find out about.  She cooks you food every night but expects you to clean the whole kitchen after, she lets you have free reign over the caf maker as long as you remember to make enough for her, and she allows you and the kid to pass out on the beat-up sofa in one of the secluded back rooms for the time being.  On more than one occasion, when she assigns you chores that require two hands and a steady focus to complete, you overhear her babytalk behind the control panel as she bounces the kid in one arm and plays with his ears.  It fills your chest with a quiet, subtle kind of warmth, and you understand why Din trusts her with him.
At least you stay busy—which, understatement.  She works you so hard that eventually she starts handing you tasks that don’t really seem… pressing.  Replacing the spherical joints on her three pit droids, hand-scrubbing the grime off the pots and pans she uses to cook the same two meals everyday, polishing the dusty windows overlooking the landing platform even though they’re caked over with dirt not even an hour later.  You realize soon enough that she doesn’t have nearly the workload here as she claims, periodically catching her playing cards with the droids while you’re busting your ass doing chores once all the real work has clearly been accomplished, but you’re not upset.  You like being busy, it’s how you’ve lived most of your life.  However, at some point, you actually end up running out of things to do.  After that, it’s like she has to actively look for tasks she still needs completed.
One morning you find her in the parked Crest, ripping open the guidance systems paneling and talking to herself.  You sip your caf and watch silently from the landing bay, hair pulled up in a messy bun and the baby on your hip as the suns rise on your shoulders and she mutters, whole sheets of metal being tossed out from the insides of the Razor Crest.
You've also learned she responds incredibly well to the prospect of credits, so you don’t spend too much time wondering what her goal is—find something in the ship for you to fix and then charge Mando extra for the materials whenever he comes back.
Hilarious though, as if there’s anything in your ship that actually needs fixing.
You spin around with a sigh and walk back into the hangar, knowing today will probably be the first slow day in awhile.
***
A few hours later, you’re invited to play a game of Sabacc for the first time in your life.
There are so many rules—so many suits and names to keep track of, so many values to memorize, only to be forced to choose one card after every round to keep just in case the rest of them happen to shuffle at random, which occurs at least once or twice every game.  There’s too much luck involved to figure out any sort of strategy; you feel like sometimes you’re hopelessly lost and end up winning anyways or you wager nearly your entire stack of bolts on a perfect hand and then you lose the entire thing regardless.
It’s an unpredictable nightmare.  But it’s something to do, and you’ve learned that playing just as stupidly as you bet allows you to easily stay in the game.  The baby sits in your lap and plays with one of your rusty metal gambling pieces while your leg bounces, and Peli grumbles under her breath once it appears you get ahead of her in winnings.
“Beginner’s luck,” she tells her favorite pit droid quietly, who focuses its singular eye at you in a way that somehow feels unfriendly and nods on a brand new swivel, courtesy of yours truly.
You don’t argue, because there’s no point.  The whole fucking thing is luck, but there’s no point.  You know enough about this game to know that you might give something away if you speak, so you keep your mouth shut and let her fill the void.  You know how to stay silent, you’ve learned from the best.  Wordlessly drawing a card from the deck and tucking it in between two others of the same value, you decide to trade one of your other cards at complete random and hope it all just works out.
“Ship looks like it’s brand spankin’ new on the inside,” Peli mutters into her mug out of nowhere, and you pause for a moment, before silently nodding at the offhanded comment and trying not to show how pleased you are by it.  “Was falling apart the last time I saw it.”
You keep bouncing the kid on your knee and fan out the cards in front of you, hoping his big black eyes aren’t reflective enough to reveal your hand.  “I have a lot of free time.”
“I can tell,” she acknowledges, crossing her legs and leaning back into her chair.  Peli sets the mug down and sighs.  “You’re a good mechanic.  I’d offer you a job here, but something tells me you wouldn’t even consider it.”
Now, you do smile.  But it’s a hidden one.  A fond one.  One you find impossible to fight when you’re reminded of him.  You miss him and ache for him and all those collectively angsty things, yes—but mostly you’re just… able to find a bone-deep solace in even thinking about him.  Your heart tightens, but it’s far less constricting than it is a comfort, a firm embrace.  It surrounds you in its safety; Din’s mere existence is your protection, wrapping around you the same way the beskar protects him.  Nothing can touch you.  You’re safe, from all the things you used to fear and all the new things you’ve learned to fear.
No, you’d never consider it.  This planet is too much like Arvala-7, just slightly more populated and dangerous.  You love the baby.  You love him.  You’d never consider it.
“Don’t you get bored?”  She asks you with a raised eyebrow, and your smile admittedly drops the slightest bit.  “Just waiting around for him to come back?”
You don’t have to think about your answer.  Of course you do.  If you’re being honest, it does feel a bit like your life is split between worlds—one with him, and one without.  Whenever he’s not here, you’re thinking about how much you want him to come back, and whenever he is here, you’re thinking about how much you don’t want him to go.  You’ve never experienced anything like that before.  There were a few local farmers scattered far across the arid landscape of the place you used to call home, and three of your neighbors all had kids around your age.  So you experimented when you were younger, since you never had much else to do in your spare time, but you never loved any of them.  You’d always go back home and continue to do chores, continue to look up at the sky and wonder what you were missing.
“Yes,” you admit quietly.
But what you don’t tell her is that in exchange, you get to see the galaxy.  You get to have experiences you’ve only dreamed about, take care of the cutest little baby you’ve ever seen and become part of a family.  You don’t know of anything you could want more.  Adventure, companionship, pleasure, and fulfillment.  Sure, you get restless, and sure, you don’t necessarily feel good about the fact that Din seems to be your driving force even when he’s away, but you know independence.  You know what it means to live for yourself.  You’ve done it long enough that you’ll never forget how to, you’ve experienced it more than enough to know you’re happy about throwing yourself off the cliff and falling into something different.  As much as it’s new and terrifying, it’s better.  Now you have other people to live for, too.  
You marvel at the change—not just from a year ago, but from a handful of months ago.  He used to terrify you.  You used to keep your mouth purposefully shut around him because you were scared of overstaying your welcome and being dropped off somewhere equally as remote as the place you grew up.  Never could you have imagined that the fiercest guardian the galaxy has ever seen would decide you’re also worth protecting.
No, you figure, you just need to… find something in addition.  Something else to also commit to, give yourself something to do.  You can practice the new self-defense maneuvers he taught you, that’s a good idea.  But maybe you can also…
You eventually decide to prompt Peli in a change in conversation.  “Hey, can I ask you something?”
“What do you want now?”  She takes another sip of her caf as if you’ve been bothering her about this all day long, and… well, it’s times like these that you wish you had a helmet, too, if only so you could roll your eyes.
“I’ve got a few pieces of rusted metal in the Crest,” you eventually tell her, careful with your phrasing and not sure how much you want to reveal.  “They’re in bad shape, but I want to keep them.  Could I use some of your tools here to hammer out some of the dents, dissolve whatever crud is on the surface?  I saw you have a forge back there that’s barely been used, just need the metal hot enough to be pliable without sacrificing its integrity.”
She furrows her eyebrows at you.  “But I still need your help with…”
You wait, but she’s got nothing and you both know it.  Still, you keep a pointed silence and wait for it, wondering if this’ll actually work.  This is what Din does, right?  Just refuse to say anything and make the other person crumble under the crushing quiet?  Miraculously, it proves to be successful—you watch her flounder for a response, her will wavering the longer you sit there and stare expectantly at her.
“Fine,” Peli finally acquiesces, and you grin.  “But only if you win this round.  What d’you got?”
You set down your cards to reveal your hand.  A perfect twenty-three if you’ve been counting right, unbeatable unless she or any of the droids managed to get the same, and you know it didn’t happen as soon as she takes a few seconds for mental math and then scoffs.
“Beginner’s luck,” you tell her kindly, pushing all your winnings back over to her side of the table with one hand and scooping the kid up with the other, before turning around and heading towards the Crest in search of Din’s old armor.
***
It’s late afternoon on day five and you’re on your back on a creeper seat, sweat dripping down your neck as you reach up to fiddle with the engine of a T-16, a Skyhopper similar to one you built yourself on Arvala-7.  They're not space-faring vehicles, they’re only capable of reaching the upper troposphere, but owning one allowed you to develop solid flight skills without ever truly being able to leave.  Honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever despised a ship more.
You know you’ve got engine grease all over and you feel like you’re boiling in your own sweat, but you’re almost done.  After this, you’ll be able to go back to working on your side project.
As soon as you’d been granted Peli’s direct permission to do so, you mixed the chemicals necessary to eat away at everything besides the basic structure underneath, and then spent all day yesterday manipulating the metal to better fit someone your size and shape.  You slaved over the wickedly hot forge and developed a whole new muscle in your arm from hammering and reheating, hammering and reheating.  You had to repair the way the chestpiece was tapered into a concave point by folding the thin metal back in on itself multiple times, strengthening it without flattening it back into its original shape too much, and then you ended up melting down some of the extra material from the needlessly large shoulder and thigh pieces to fill in the gaps.
Granted, you still have a ways to go on replacing the crushed magnetics box that was falling off the chestpiece and filing down the rough scrapes and sharp edges, but you’re now left with almost a full set of armor that’s a uniform dull silver in color and molds way better to your general figure than before.  You’re not a blacksmith or armorer by any stretch of the imagination, but you’re good with your hands and did what you could in the time allotted.  It looks better than you ever thought it would, and without access to Peli’s enormous collection of tools and machinery, you know it would’ve been better off in the trash.
Still, you have to finish this engine first before you can rip apart the control unit wiring on the armor to see how the whole set fits together and what else needs to be repaired.  You’ve been working on it for a few hours before you hear the door to the hangar open.  Yet, when you don’t immediately hear Peli’s voice calling out to you, or anyone else’s voice for that matter, your heart thuds in your chest with sudden excitement.
“You’re back early,” you tell the engine suspended over your head, knowing he must’ve already thrown the quarry into the Crest parked outside before coming to see you.  Right on time, footsteps approach and then a boot carefully catches the flat platform between your legs, slowly rolling your seat out from under the ship until the rest of the sunlit hangar is revealed to you.
You know you must look a hot mess right now.  Your hair is a disaster and there’s not a clean spot to be found on your body—sweat glistens and pools along every curve you have and you’re probably drenching the spare jumpsuit Peli let you borrow, but Maker, there he is.  Every time you see him is like the first time all over again, except this time the Mandalorian is looming like a giant over you, the helmet tilted down and silently taking you in.
Instead of settling you, his daunting presence gets you hotter than dual suns in the sky ever could.  Fuck, he hasn’t said a word to greet you, and yet you’re already wondering if you can entice him to shove you back under here and join you.
You slowly push yourself upright and he steps back just enough to allow it, but not an inch more than that.  You have to crane your neck up to keep looking at him, and he stands close enough over you that you wouldn’t have to reach far at all if you wanted to touch him.
And it’s crazy to think that… you absolutely could touch him, if you wanted.  He radiates danger, he hunts and tracks for his continued survival, he’s probably got fresh blood staining the dark fabric of his cape and he’s so fucking intimidating—and if you wanted to, you could touch him.  
Maybe you can partially blame your sore muscles as to why you immediately drop your head back down, but mostly you just want to stare at a part of his body that happens to align perfectly at eye level.  And fuck, nothing stops you from looking.  He doesn’t help you up, but he also doesn’t move so you can haul yourself to your feet, either.  He just holds perfectly still with his body standing tall over yours, content to stay exactly like this while your hand slowly reaches out to wrap around one of his ankles.
He’s so warm, his muscles flex strong under your palm as you let it drift upwards, biting your lip as you flick your gaze back up to the chrome visor and then down again to the apex of his thighs.  Your other hand comes up to scale the beskar strapped to his leg and you roll yourself forward slightly, wondering if he’d let you…
The black fabric stretching over his crotch just barely touches your fingertips before his hand is suddenly whipping out and grabbing hold of your wrist.
You gasp and jerk your head up to look at him, somehow equally hoping that you’re both in trouble and not in it at the same time.  Din’s abruptly chest raises with a large, labored inhale, as if he wasn’t breathing at all that entire time, as if he just now remembered the setting, the fact that he’s not alone on the Crest with you right now.  Peli and the kid have to be somewhere in the hangar, you know that, but…
“We’re leaving tonight,” he breathes out through the modulator, and you have absolutely no fucking problem with that at all.  “But… shit, but…”
“But…?”  You prompt, wanting nothing more than to let your hands reach back up to his pants again, but you settle for slowly dragging one palm up his forearm as his grip on your wrist tightens.
“Fuck, I wanted to take you somewhere first,” he groans like your feather-soft touch is actually hurting him, his hands suddenly dropping yours and pushing you away to clench into fists at his sides.  “Maker—why do you always f-fucking do this to me…”
You raise an eyebrow at him this time, the curiosity starting to mix with the heat simmering down low, the kind that you'd feel even on a frozen wasteland of a planet as long as you were with him.  All at once, you decide to channel him and his trademarked silence, enthralled by the incredibly slim chance that it will work equally as well on its creator.
“…Distract me,” he finally growls out an answer to the question you never asked him, sounding frustrated with you for reasons you still haven’t figured out, and your mouth is drier than the desert outside.  Oh stars, you feel… fucking powerful.  “From everything,” he goes on, talking honestly and openly, more words given to you in thirty seconds than he’s probably offered to anyone all week long.  “Fuck, I feel like I can barely do fucking anything anymore, I’m losing my fucking mind.”
Your heart slams in your chest, wondering if he possibly feels the exact same way about you as you feel about him.  Missing you whenever he’s gone, dreading the moment he needs to leave again whenever he’s with you.  The thought alone is enough to set off fireworks through your veins, pumping hope and excitement from your fingers to your toes.
“I’m sorry,” you breathe out, biting your lip in a way that doesn’t look or feel sorry at all.
“No, you’re not,” Din grunts, before reaching out and hauling you to your feet, and even if there wasn’t a flat seat under you with wheels, it’d still be awkward and uncoordinated as fuck.  “Shit.  I… I need to clean up.  Grab your things, go tell…”
Din trails off after a second, suddenly sounding at a complete loss.  You catch your footing and stare at him as he falters.  “Uh.  Go tell…”  He gestures with a sense of finality to the control room, as if he’s actually successfully communicating with you by doing so.  “Her.  That we’re leaving tonight.”
“What?”  You ask him, thoroughly fucking confused.  “What are you saying right now?”
“The woman,” he clarifies, clearing his throat.  “The mechanic, with the… droids.  Tell her I’ll pay her before we leave, but we’re g—”
“Peli?”  You blurt, completely flabbergasted at this point.  “Did you forget her name, Mando?”
“I…” he shakes his head slightly at you, like you should already know him better than that.  “Never asked.”
“But you—?”  You blink at him.  “But you said she was your friend?”
“You said she was my friend,” he immediately points out, with—oh Maker, just biting accuracy.  It wasn’t necessarily a jab or anything, but you still feel dizzy with how fucking spot on he is about it.  Yikes, you absolutely did say that.  You forgot.
“Oh…” you mumble, at a stunning loss for a response.  “Ha.  Oh.  Yeah, huh.”
There’s too many beats of awkward silence after that, probably because he’s just so blown away by your way with words that he’s just attempting to analyze the wisdom.  Stars, you’re making a complete fool of yourself in front of him, aren’t you?
“Were you jealous?”  He suddenly asks, and you jerk upright, your heart kicking up to a gallop in your chest at the question.
“I’ll go tell Peli we’re leaving soon,” you quickly agree and go to scurry away in abrupt panic, but he catches your wrist and hauls you back before you can get far.  You run into him with a gasp and immediately start to repeat your explanation for why you very suddenly need to depart, but the tips of Din’s fingers catch your chin and force you to look up at him.
“Hey,” he cuts your rambling short with a hushed murmur and the pad of his thumb brushes down your jaw.  “Tell me the truth.”
You don’t have an answer that won’t be incriminating, and you don’t think you can get the delivery right on a lie, not to him and especially not when he’s got you so cornered.  So you just keep completely silent and look up at him like a scolded child would.  Innocent, wide-eyed and scared shitless about the unknown consequences of your actions.
His helmet slowly tilts as he studies you, watching you look up at him for help.  His fingers gradually spread out across your jaw, flattening under the curve of your throat but so gentle, so careful that you’re almost worried he actually is mad.
“I’m sorry,” you immediately offer before he can say anything, your eyebrows pulling up in the middle.  “I’m so sorry, it’s just—I just…”
His thumb carefully stretches up to brush your bottom lip, and you…  Mind blank, no thoughts.  Stars, you’ve got fucking nothing.
“I’ve got nothing,” you admit, giving up before you can even try.  “There’s no reason.  I was jealous.  It’s stupid and I wasn’t going to say anything because I know it’s stupid, and I shouldn’t feel possessive over you but I do, and it’s stupid.  I don’t want anyone else to know you the way I know you, and I’m really sorry if that makes you feel weird, I don’t want you to feel like you can’t have—”
Your chin lifts slightly with the gentlest movement of his hand and the subtle pressure is enough to cut your mindless oversharing off.  Din’s voice lowers until it’s throaty and quiet.
“See that wall?”  He asks, keeping the visor pinned to you while carefully turning his hand to the right, and your whole head easily follows the movement as he guides it.  You have to blink your eyes into focus a few times, but then you immediately see what he’s talking about.  It’s a partition separating the welding room from the rest of the hangar.  He waits until you nod in the cradle of his palm, before leaning in and murmuring to you.  “If we were alone, I’d take you around behind it and show you exactly how that makes me feel.”
You pull back from him with a startled gasp just as a voice calls out from the entrance of the hangar.  “Well, look who finally decided to come back!”
Din slowly drops his arms and stares at you for just long enough to make you seriously worry that he’s going to say fuck it all and do it anyways, before finally turning around and greeting Peli with another silent nod.
She plants one hand on her hip once she’s standing right in front of him, cradling the kid on with her other arm, and you have to take a second to collect yourself now that you’re not at the direct center of his attention anymore.  “Sure did take you long enough, didn’t it?”
“I’m two days early,” he grunts in his immediate defense, but it’s like she doesn’t hear him.
“You’re leaving soon I hope,” she drawls while handing the baby over to him, who makes an adorable little happy squeak at seeing his dad again.  “You owe me five hundred credits.”
“It was five hundred for the full week,” he reminds her, and… he has a point.  Though it was never part of the agreement, you wonder if she’ll be willing to accept less compensation for having the burden of your company be lifted early.
“Five days count as a full week, far as I’m concerned,” she shoots back, and your heart suddenly sinks when Din’s shoulders tighten and he doesn’t respond.
“Peli…” you sigh from behind him before you even realize you’ve spoken aloud.
Your host quickly sidesteps your bodyguard to eye you dubiously, and at the same time, you also jolt and wonder what your goal is here exactly.  You’re ultimately just attempting to diffuse any tension sparking between them, you figure, knowing you’re probably the best mediator here.  She looks at you up and down for a long time, hard and judging, before the baby babbles something wordlessly and she sighs.
“I suppose we can just call it even,” she finally huffs, turning back to him.  “You’re lucky your girlfriend earned her keep, Mando.”
And then your jaw drops.  Holy shit, is she serious?  You assumed Peli valued credits above almost anything else, you never expected her to just… turn down the entire offer like that, so willingly.  Clearly Din didn’t either, because you both just stand there for a moment in front of her in a baffled silence.
Also… girlfriend?
Is that what you are to him?  Admittedly you haven’t talked to him about what to call your relationship, but then again, you’re a practical person and you never really saw a specific need to do so.  You care about him, he cares about you—what else is important?  You don’t need a title to recognize your value to him, and for some odd reason, calling yourself his “girlfriend” just feels like you’re a teenager again.  If you were actually looking for a different word to use instead, you wouldn’t be able to find it, but you know that one just feels… not enough.  Not old enough, not encompassing enough, not complex enough.  It’s an elementary school version of what this is.  And to refer to someone like Din as your boyfriend?  Maker, just saying it aloud would probably make his eye twitch.
“Uh.”  He stands there awkwardly, and you’re so blown away by both the sentiment and specific verbiage she used that you’re practically useless at this point.  Shit, what’s beyond girlfriend, you wonder?  Lover?  No, not good enough.  Partner?  No.  No, not wife, definitely fucking not—  “Thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Peli waves him away and spins around to leave, but not before throwing one final thing over her shoulder.  “That ain’t an open invitation to come back, by the way.”
All of a sudden, you just can’t stop yourself from breaking out into a wide grin, tucking your chin in hopes that she won’t see it with her back turned and decide to pounce on the display of weakness.  The three of you watch her stride out of the room and immediately bark an order at one of her droids to get back to work, who starts looking around in desperate search of something to do, and Din’s palm finds its usual place on your lower back as she disappears.
“What a nice lady,” you offer to him, and he gives you a wordless grumble in response.
***
So it’s a couple hours later and you think the kid might actually have the right idea this time.
You find yourself wishing you had a little hover pod of your own that followed Din around, one you could close the lid on and hide in while blaster fire whistles through the air around you like the baby is currently doing.  You’re trying to listen to instructions—you’re trying, but there’s a lot going on here.  Voices chatting, guns firing, targets being pinged, a lively little band playing in the cantina next door.  
When Din first led you through Mos Eisley and inside this specific adobe hut, if you’re being completely honest, you had hoped for food.  A comparatively large restaurant, perhaps?  Peli didn’t starve you by any stretch of the imagination, but her dinners were the exact same every single night, and you’ve learned to thrive on new things.  While you didn’t necessarily think he was going to take you on a… a date, or anything, you certainly didn’t expect him to take you to a shooting range.
Well.  Now that you think about it, this might actually be a date.
Luckily you’re hidden away in the furthest firing partition from the door, but even without the near-constant barrage of gunfire to your left, the distractions are still plentiful.  The kid actually reached down and pressed the button to close his crib himself as soon as the bright beams of plasma started zooming past and reflecting in his large black eyes, and oh how you wish that were you.  You don’t necessarily feel like you’re in danger or anything, but you’ve also never seen so many guns in one place before and you’re worried you’re accidentally going to hurt someone else.
So far Din has taught you the fundamentals for any firearm—always keep the safety on until you’re ready to fire, never point at anything unless you’re a hundred percent willing to shoot it, yada yada yada—and also the safety fundamentals for blasters specifically.  So, making sure there’s no leaks in the gas cylinder when you first load it, never letting a strong magnet get near the power pack, checking the surface of your target for deflection curves if you want to prevent a ricochet, or maybe in his case, inspire one.  He’s taught you your stance, he’s taught you how to read your sights, now all that’s left is just to… shoot.
Your arms raise up in front of you and the metal feels too heavy and awkward in your hands, and you have to hold the handle in your left and creep your right index finger all the up the side of the barrel until you feel the indented safety switch.  It clicks and you reset your grip to slowly ease your finger onto the trigger, staring down the sight, right at the bullseye.  Din is standing directly behind you next to the kid’s tightly closed hovering pod, arms crossed and just waiting for you to pull it.
Come on beginner’s luck, come on beginner’s luck—
You fire, and… well.  You don’t think you’ve ever seen a shot miss its target that spectacularly in your entire life.  You’re almost surprised the beam of plasma didn’t somehow ricochet back into the booth you’re both standing in, that’s how spectacularly you missed.
“Try again.”
There’s no amusement in his voice, nothing mocking about it.  Pure monotone under the helmet, as if he was just naturally expecting that to happen.  
No, you think in frustration.  You want to surprise him again, impress him with how quickly you can pick things up, turn him on like last time.  You just fucking know that would get to him—seeing you easily hit the target dead center with his own blaster, you know that would get to him.
You adjust your aim and fire a few more times.  Miss, miss, wild miss, miss.  Fuck, so many distractions, plasma flying in the corner of your vision and an increasingly heavy gaze from behind you.  Another miss, a miss, yeesh that’s a miss—
Alright, so you're just embarrassing yourself at this point.
“I think it’s broken,” you shrug in defeat, taking a second to find the safety switch and toggle it before going to set the gun down on the raised adobe platform separating the line of booths from the targets—but then Din suddenly snatches the blaster from your grip and extends his arm over your shoulder, firing off six rounds in rapid succession so wickedly fast that you jump backwards into his rock solid chest in surprise.  He doesn’t give an inch under the collision and even wraps his forearm tight around your tummy as he hits the bullseye with such deadly accurate precision that even the char marks and the line of smoke left wafting from the target’s center are razor-thin.
“Works just fine,” he grunts, setting the weapon back down again before urging you forward a bit.  “Go ahead, give it another shot.”
But you’re on a remarkable delay, just trying to process his sheer speed, how fluid and seamless the entire fucking motion was.  Fucking Maker, blink and you’d miss the whole thing.  He waited to grab the gun from you until you turned the safety on, but then… then how did he fire it so insanely fucking fast?  That’s like five different things he had to do with one single hand within a split second…?
“I turned the safety on,” you blink down at the blaster, clearly just trying to process.
“Yeah,” he agrees blankly, as if he’s unsure as to what specifically you’re so stuck on right now.
“So how did you toggle so fas—?”
He picks it from the shelf gracefully and lightning quick—as if he just can’t help but go that speed around his weapon—and then he twists it on its side, flexing his wrist back until the barrel is pointed upwards and you can clearly see his index finger extend all the way up to the safety switch, flipping it up and down while his middle finger rests over the trigger guard.
“How in the f…?”  You mutter, lifting your hand up next to his and positioning your fingers in the exact same L shape, only the tip of your index finger barely stretches an inch shy of the switch.  “Psh,” you huff, dropping your arm back down again.  “Design flaw.”
“For you,” he acknowledges, using the trigger guard to flip it back to its proper position in his hand like fucking spinning it like that is just the easiest and most natural way to handle the deadly weapon.  “This gun was made for me, it’s a feature.  Yours would be smaller and lighter, have the safety towards the back of the chamber instead of along the barrel.”
The words and the casual display of ability cause a rush of stirring excitement to burst forth inside you, suddenly giddy at the very thought.
“Wait,” you draw the word out with a grin, leaning back into him and gently nudging him with your elbow to make sure he knows you’re only mostly joking.  “You gonna buy me a blaster, Mando?  I did earn my keep this week, didn’t I?”
“Have to find one that fits a big enough sight first,” he mutters while setting the gun down on the table, and you scoff at him as his hands come to rest on your hips.  They squeeze and try to guide you forwards once again.  “Prove that you can at least hit the target with mine and we’ll see.”
“You only get to make fun of me if you give me a real answer,” you rule, planting your feet and refusing to budge.
“Okay, but we both know I’ll make fun of you anyways,” he sighs, and you have to dig your heels in and push back into him to keep yourself rooted to the spot.
“You’re not being a very encouraging teacher,” you accuse without trying to hide your grin.  “In fact I feel very discouraged right now and I think that y—”
But then Din suddenly tips his helmet closer to your ear and lowers his voice, cutting you off.  “Did you know that gifting someone a weapon is considered a proposal of marriage on Mandalore?”
Your smile quickly drops and you gasp, wholly startled at the implication and immediately trying to spin around to look at him.  “Holy shit, are you serious?”
“No,” comes his modulated grunt, tightening his hold and keeping you firmly facing forwards.  “Of course not.  Pick up the gun.”
Okay.
Okay, so that one gets you.
You immediately start giggling, painfully aware that this isn’t the time or place for it, but that one actually fucking got you.  Din easily guides and parks your gullible ass in front of the window carved out of dried mud before picking up the blaster himself and forcing you to hold it with your loose hands, grumbling under his breath.
Shit, okay, focus.  Focus, you can do this.  You clear the laughter from your throat and suddenly get deadly serious, staring your target down like it’s personally gone out of its way to ruin your entire life.  The blaster feels cold in your palms but not when Din’s hands wrap warm and tight around the back of yours, letting you hold the gun how it’s most comfortable for you before gently settling his fingers down over yours.  His chestpiece presses tight against your shoulder blades when he guides the gun up and out, and his arms are long enough to extend yours fully even though he’s behind you and still has some bend to his elbows.  He uses his feet to kick your ankles apart until they’re shoulder-width and then you both carefully find the trigger together.
He’s quiet and slow about it and the whole thing is one giant fucking turn-on.  Maker, chill out.  Chill out, he’s teaching you how to shoot.  This is important stuff, there are people around, chill out…
Din takes a moment to aim the barrel and his hold is so fucking steady, so unwavering and strong.  You wonder if it’d be too obvious if you pushed your hips back a little, you might be able to feel his—
“Fire,” Din murmurs next to your ear, and you pull the trigger without a second thought.
The bright red plasma beam launches from the end of the blaster and hits the target dead center.  You gasp, pulling the trigger again, and unsurprisingly, it’s another perfect shot.
He suddenly lets go of your arms and takes a small step back, but the second he removes his body from yours, the rounds start bouncing wildly off the edges of the target.  Your eyebrows furrow and you try to emulate how you think the angle felt before, but you can’t find it anymore and you’re just failing spectacularly.
When you decide to pause for a second, Din steps up close behind you and wraps his arms around you once more.  You can feel the exact moment he’s locked in his aim, and you fire wordlessly as soon as you know it’s going to hit.  Bullseye, right on the nose.
This time, he lifts just his hands away from yours, staying perfectly still otherwise and you swear you don’t move a single fucking muscle in your entire body before pulling the trigger, but it still hits the far corner of the target.
“It’s broken,” you shrug once again, and Din drops his helmet to your shoulder with a sigh.  “This gun was made for you, which means there’s obviously some mod you have installed that reads biometrics and ruins the shot no matter how good it—”
“Not even close, but that’s not a bad idea,” he tells you, watching you click the safety on and set the uncooperative blaster down.  “I can’t figure out what you’re doing wrong.   Are you just distracted?”
Uh, fuck yeah you are.  So much is going on and more than that, he’s here and he’s just… fuck, you know what he meant when he said he felt like he was losing his mind.  He’s your biggest distraction, all the time.  He’s still standing so close to you and the baby is still isolated and tucked away in his hovering sphere, and you take a moment to think about it.  
Yes, it’s… it’s possible that you may learn better by example than anything else.
“Can I watch you do it?”  You ask him, and Din shrugs before reaching around you and quickly grabbing the blaster from its mud shelf.  “Wait—” you tell him while he raises and extends his arm over your shoulder, and then you wiggle sideways as much as possible in the small booth to squeeze around behind him.  He doesn’t say anything as you swap places with him and scoot up behind him, but you can tell by his body language that he’s confused.  You wonder if he liked that position and watching you shoot his gun, even if you’re complete shit at it.
He stands in front of you for a second and you give him an encouraging, “Okay,” to let him know you’re ready, but then the helmet turns back to look at the target like he’s still unsure as to what you want specifically.  You keep your mouth shut and let him figure it out.  You meant what you said—you want to watch him shoot.  You want to watch him where he’s infamous, watch him do what he’s best at and let completely loose in front of you.
As if it finally clicks for him, Din turns to face the target and suddenly throws the blaster into his left hand while reaching down and pushing a button hidden under the hollow platform with his right.  You have to lean around his broad shoulders to watch the target slide backwards on its track easily triple the distance before squeaking and slamming to a stop.  Din stretches his non-dominant hand out and subtly tilts his helmet before firing six times, easily hitting the bullseye with just as much accuracy as before, and you frown when you notice the only shots that have actually hit the target so far have all been dead center.
He sets the gun down and stands there for a second, staring across the range like it’s nothing at all to him and it’s… remarkable.  Not that he’s a wicked shot, you’ve known that the second you laid eyes on his armor all those months ago.  No, it’s just… you would think this is where he’d thrive, if anywhere.  The entire place is full of smugglers, raiders, scavengers, mercenaries—occupations that define themselves by their grit.  They’re talking as much as they’re shooting, conversing in languages you’ve never heard but suspect Din easily understands.  But instead of fitting in, he’s just… there.  He doesn’t look comfortable, but he also doesn’t look uncomfortable, either.  He doesn’t look like he’s having any fun at all.
None of this is considered a hobby to him, you suddenly realize.  It’s not fun because he’s too good at it.  This is life.  This is going back to school for the most basic fundamentals of a job he’s excelled at for decades—it’s not interesting, he’s gaining absolutely nothing from practicing.
You try to think of the last time you’ve seen him truly in his element.  You think back on all the different settings—he looked out of place on Canto Bight, got into fights on Corellia, hated Coruscant, seemed stressed on Nevarro, and even on Naboo, even in the middle of paradise, he looked unsure if he actually deserved to be there with you.  Now here on Tatooine, where he has real people that he trusts, where he’s surrounded by like-minded individuals shooting his favorite things in the world, it’s like he’s still not able to fully let go.
Is it just you, you wonder?  Does he stand out more just because you’re the one looking?
No, you think.  No.  You have seen him relax.  You’ve seen him laugh before, you’ve seen him be himself with you.  
But… only with you.  A hardened bounty hunter that much prefers the company of a young woman and an infant to literally anyone else in the galaxy.
Fuck.  Why does that turn you on so fucking much?  It’s the display of prowess, the sheer skill he’s developed, how fucking deadly he is—and how you’ve felt him use that trigger finger to trace slow circles around your clit.  The Mandalorian standing with his blaster raised has probably been the last thing too many people have ever seen in their lifetimes, and yet watching from this angle just makes you feel protected, guarded, and… so fucking horny for him.
“Do it again,” you eventually murmur, touching both your palms to his back this time just to feel it.  You want to feel him shoot, you want to feel his muscles move with it.  You want to touch how mechanically he’s able to aim, you want to know if he’s loose or tense when he fires, you just want to… feel it.
Din grabs the gun and as he extends his arms out, you slide your hands up his back to rest under his shoulders.  He’s so broad, he feels so warm and strong, and his trigger releases are so steady that nothing above his wrists move.
Shit, before he’s even finished setting the blaster back down again, you’re already scooting up behind him as close as possible and carefully slithering your arms around his waist, hugging your body tight to his back.  Din stays completely still while your mouth presses against the fabric of his cape and your hands begin to slowly slide down his stomach.
He doesn’t say a damn thing, which makes it even hotter for some reason.  There’s no warning he gives you, no low growl of your name or sweet girl being dragged through the modulator.  He stays completely silent and holds there while blasters continue to fire from stalls to your left, and it gives you the thrill of your lifetime.  Big strong man holding perfectly still for you to touch in the middle of a crowded room.
Your hand slips under his waistband and sink down low until you can trail your fingertips along his cock, hidden from sight beneath the edge of the clay shelf.  The small sound you make at feeling it already firm and at attention for you gets lost in the noise of the shooting range, but you wrap your palm around it and give it a good, slow pull upwards, feeling Din’s back expand with a breath from the sensation.
“Do it again,” you whisper into his shoulder blade, slowly playing with his cock in his pants with one hand while keeping the other wrapped tight around his abdomen.
Din immediately snatches the blaster off the platform and fires it the very moment he takes aim, and you can feel his cock pulse in your palm as he lets off the shots.  Dead center, as always, but he clunks the metal back down with a bit more force this time and then lingers his fingertips at the sloped edge of it for a second, as if he’s considering whether or not he should hold onto it.  
You’re already wet between your legs, but it gets worse the longer he allows you to keep doing this.  His skin is furnace-hot and he throbs for you, and you trail your thumb up to check—oh, Maker, he’s leaking for you, too.  You drag the pad of your thumb over the tip and gently rub the wetness along the curve of his head, before easing back down to give the shaft another slow pull.
A quiet puff of air comes through the vocal filter, but that’s all you audibly get out of him.  Still, it’s more than enough to fill you with a wicked heat and a desperate desire for more.  So you bite your lip and glance around just to double-check that nobody else has wandered over behind you and the kid is still tucked away in his crib, probably passed out in the secluded darkness at this point.  And then you barely take a split-second to consider it before your knees are bending and you’re slowly sinking down the length of his body.
Din is a fucking statue.  He doesn’t do anything to allow your wiggling underneath the raised platform anymore than he widens his stance to prevent it.  Once you’re on your knees in front of him in the dim isolation of your hiding spot though, he takes a single step forward and pins his waist to the hardened clay above your head, and a thrill skitters through you at being completely walled in on all four sides.
You reach up to hook your fingertips in his hem of his trousers and begin pulling them down, so tight and achy between your legs that you want to shove your hand down between them already.  You don’t though, not yet, because you need two hands to be extra careful in getting his cock out.  You don’t even want the fabric of his pants to touch it, you want your mouth to be the only sensation he knows here.
At the very last second, you decide to pull the waistband down far enough to let his balls rest outside the confining clothing, getting increasingly hotter at the thought that this isn’t going to be sneaky and dirty, even if you’re in public.  Din’s wide stance and the floor-length cape hide you perfectly from any prying eyes behind his back, so it’s going to be soft and it’s going to be slow and he’s going to be comfortable while you go down on him.
Your mouth is already watering, so you bend down just slightly and lift your chin to gently drag your tongue along the smooth skin of his balls before anything else.  Honestly—you don’t think he’s expecting you to go there first, because his whole body suddenly jerks at the velvet soft sensation between his legs and you let out a low hum in response.  He can’t reach you down here unless he tries to, so you scoot your knees up a little bit and just decide to go for it.  This way he won’t be able to get it confused, he won’t pull you out from under here halfway through when you suck on his balls before anything else.  This is what you want from him, what’s right here in your mouth.
You switch to the other one and Din twitches with a filtered breath, the skin already tightening up and responding gorgeously under your tongue.  His hand hovers somewhere near the raised platform above your head, fingers curling in his leather gloves and caught right between stopping you and letting you continue.  While he allows it, you ease your way up and make it just tantalizing enough to make him ache without providing any real stimulation, slowly trailing your tongue up the length of his cock and pressing plush lips to the flared head.
Din exhales a shakily while you take your time, tasting the precum as his body produces it, just kissing and licking and purposefully refusing to touch him with anything besides your mouth.  Without being able to see the rest of him from this angle, you're left to your own devices—you’re so gentle and soft about the pleasure that you start to separate the man from the throbbing erection you’re currently playing with.  You begin to enjoy yourself without thinking too much about the struggle he must be withstanding right now, you moan softly against his heated skin even though you know you’re being a tease at the worst possible moment, but no matter how you decide to take your time with it, Din continues to allow it.  He endures.  Silent, perfectly still, until you eventually decide to wrap your lips around the head of his cock and flutter your tongue up underneath it.
But then he jumps and your eyes open when a deep, unkind voice from the stall to your left calls out, “Hey, Mando!  Gonna fuckin’ shoot or just stand there, huh?”
You can hear his immediate frustration in the blaster scraping against the shelf over your head, and you moan softly around his cock the second you feel him tense and start firing.  The smooth skin pulses on your tongue and you slide your fingers around the backs of his knees, opening your throat and slowly taking him deeper.  
And, for a man that has repeatedly fired six perfect shots every single time he picks up his gun, he falters after just three this time.
The heat of your mouth must be too overwhelming.  Too fucking good, too detrimental to his focus and composure to even perform the most basic tasks he typically excels at.  Like a seasoned mathematician that suddenly struggles to count to ten, a renowned author that can’t recite their ABC’s—Mando can’t even fire a weapon right now and it’s all because of you.  
He has to keep trying though, he has to make an actual effort now that you both know someone nearby is paying at least some sort of attention to his performance.  The sound of more plasma arcing through the air over your head slowly disappears into the background in a way that it never could while you were the one firing—you’re completely hidden and safe down here, you can moan low in your throat while keeping your hands around his knees and begin to bob your head without another thought or worry whatsoever.  Handling it is all on him.  He just needs to stay quiet, be still, and shoot his gun.  It should be the simplest thing in the galaxy for him, right?
Wrong.  So wrong.  You hear the way the bolts are pinging off the sides of the target now, you listen to him grunt and let off a few more shots that also sound like they miss.  Your soft palate lifts and you’re practically drenching yourself at how wide he stretches your throat while you take him down as far as you can, and there’s a moment where you’re holding there and you think about doing something about the dull ache throbbing between your legs.  But once you pull off him for air and automatically touch your drooling tongue to your palm, you decide this is what you want more.
Your slick hand wraps around his cock and starts to slowly jerk him off while your mouth moves down to attach to his balls once more, your touch gliding strong and wet along his entire length.  Din almost doubles over into the platform, his hips stuttering up for the first time at the hard stimulation you’re finally giving him.  His skin swells and tightens in your mouth—you can feel the tension locking his thighs down, you can hear the shots above you start to decrease in frequency, and you know he’s already close.
So you move back up to suck on the head of his cock again and slowly swirl your tongue around it, continuing to use your hand to pull steady and firm on the rest of his shaft, and you just close your eyes and wait for him to give you what you want.  His firing soon stops altogether and you squeeze your finger between your thighs and press hard against your clit, just needing to relieve some of the ache.  You keep doing that, you keep drawing circles with your tongue while slowly jerking the rest of him off into your mouth, and at some point, it all just becomes too much for him.
“Shit,” Din gasps, along with the sudden sound of metal skittering against the clay above you, and your eyes pop open in surprise.  “Ah, sh—shhhhh—”
Maker, did he just drop his fucking gun?
You start to pull back, but then suddenly a trembling hand shoots down and clutches tight under your throat, hooking hard behind your jaw to make sure you stay right there.
His cock starts throbbing and he shudders, slamming his other palm on the shelf and cumming hard in your mouth.  You’re already swallowing before he even gives you anything but Maker, you’re fucking desperate for it that your hand moves to curl your fingers against the exposed skin at his hips as if that’ll somehow help you get it sooner.  The first taste of him comes as soon as you dig in and drag your nails down his flesh, and Din is helpless to do anything else besides clutch your jaw tight and gasp raggedly while emptying himself down your throat.
He shakes and shudders and you don’t spill a single drop, clutching his hips and pulling him close to keep him in your mouth, and as he slowly comes down from that plateau, you lick every inch of him clean.  His fingers gradually lose their rigidity around your jaw and eventually, his fingers drop down to press gently against your throat while his hips pull back.
He slips from your mouth and you wipe the wetness from your chin, staring up at his cock wistfully and almost wanting to keep going.  Is that fucked up, you wonder?  What would he think?
He hasn’t moved yet, why isn’t he moving?  Your job is clearly finished here, no matter what kind of way you may feel about that.  The coast must not be clear, you have to assume.  Perhaps someone is wandering around behind him, maybe he’s still being cautious about the nosy person next door—all you know is that you can tell he wants to move but he isn’t, which likely means he can’t.  You know his cock must be so unbelievably sensitive right now, but he’s not easing his body back far enough away from the shelf to tuck it into his pants.  He’s keeping it right in front of your face and expecting you to stay there until he deems it appropriate for you to get up.
The longer you wait for him to step back and let you out from under here, the more your need sparks and grows.  What would he think?  That you’re so desperate for his cock that you still want it in your mouth even when it’s soft and spent?  Maker, he’d be fucking right on the money.
At some point, you can’t stop yourself.  You lean back up to slowly take his soft cock back in your mouth, and Din nearly spasms while you slip your hand under your waistband and widen your knees.
You don’t do anything spectacular to it—you’re not that cruel—but you do hold him on the heat of your tongue and keep him there, fluttering your eyes closed as your finger finally touches your clit.  Air puffs shakily through your nostrils and you think Din is actually shaking harder than you are, his body fighting oversensitivity while yours starts the race towards bliss.  He doesn’t stop you but it also feels like he’s purposefully trying not to, like everything in him is rebelling against the wet heat of your mouth but knowing you’re only doing this because you’re so painfully turned on.  You’re doing this because you need it, in spite of the electric shocks of wicked sensation it seems to be inspiring in him.
Your finger speeds up and you start gently sucking on the warm, giving flesh, and his hand trembles as it grabs at your hair.  Fuck, you don’t care if he thinks you’re desperate—you want him to recognize it, you want him to know exactly how much you love his cock—
That thought sends a dark thrill down your spine and pleasure burns bright and needy where you’re still rubbing your clit, dropping your hips and rolling them forwards against your hand.  And oh, your only lament is that you wish he was the one doing this.  You wish Din was building your pleasure instead of letting you use his body in search of your own, you wish it was his hand working between your legs and about to shove you over that ledge, but then again.  Something about this whole fucking scene is just so… undignified.  Debased.  And you’re getting off on it, quicker than you ever thought possible.
When you cum, you’re good and you don’t make a single sound when you cum.  You squeeze your eyes shut and your entire body jolts with every single shattering wave of ecstasy, and Din tugs a handful of your hair and slowly rocks his hips once, twice, fucking your mouth while you endure wildfire burning through your veins.  By the time you finish convulsing on the fucking floor of a Tatooinian gun range, you know you can go for another and probably get it equally as quick as that one, but Din is already pulling his cock out of your mouth and shoving it back into his pants.  You’re like jelly as your elbow is immediately caught in his arm and you’re hauled up from your hiding spot, dazed and disoriented.
The chrome visor stares you down and you want to shrink in on yourself, thinking he’s going to take your happy ass back to the Crest.  You should be in trouble, you know you should be in trouble.  Leaving the recesses of your dark cubby and coming face to face with your surroundings brings a brand new clarity to light—you totally should not have done any of that.  He was trying to teach you, for Maker’s sake.  He was taking the time to show you the valuable knowledge he’s gained regarding weaponry and self-defense.  Fuck, you even told him on Naboo that you wanted to shoot a gun, and he brought you here to do just that.
Except then he just spins you around and picks up the blaster from the adobe ledge in front of you, placing it firmly in your hands.
“Okay,” he pants quietly next to your ear, breathing hard and shallow through the helmet.  “Now you should be able to focus, right?”
Fuck…  Fuck, is he serious?  You can barely hold the damn thing, you’re shaking so hard.  How does this work again?  What does this do?
“Wh-What?”  You croak—fuck, your voice is gone.  “I… I can’t—”
“Try,” he encourages, helping your comparatively tiny hands flip off the safety but other than that, stepping back and leaving you to it.  Completely and hopelessly lost, you weakly twist around to watch him stand next to the kid’s closed metallic shield.  “Hit the target,” Din reiterates with a nod, trying to catch his breath.  “You can do it.”
You look back out with unfocused eyes to see it still all the way on the far end of its track, and there’s just absolutely no fucking way.  “I… can’t.”
“Hit the target and we can go home,” he tells you, and while you don’t exactly know what home is anymore, something tells you it’s somewhere in hyperspace.  A resting baby, a metal floor, a pitch black hull, and your cheek pressed against a warm chest.
It sounds… wonderful.
Inspiring a newfound kind of desire in you, you lift your arms as best you can and work so, so hard to keep them steady.  The target is in your sights and you do your absolute best—fuck, you really do, but you pull the trigger and the shot sadly bounces off the edge.
You drop your hands, already defeated and drained.  “I can’t.”
“Hit the target and I’ll buy you a blaster,” he ups the ante, and you instantly lift your dead arms again.  Fuck, come on, come on, you can do this.
You shoot.  Nope.  So you shoot again.  And then you shoot again, and again, minutely adjusting your wrists purely based on where the bright red plasma is landing and ignoring the scope entirely.
“A nice one,” he continues over the pew pew pew of you just continuing to fucking miss, fucking miserably, over and over again.  “Expensive.  Hand-crafted, one of a kind…”
Miss, miss, miss, and—no.  Just, no.  There’s only so much glaring failure you can take before you snap.  You finally stop shooting and growl in frustration, going to slam the metal down on its resting place.  “Mando, I ca—”
“Hit the target and I’ll marry you,” he says quietly, and you freeze just before impact.
… What?  N… No…
Miraculously, you somehow manage to calmly switch the safety on and set the blaster down before turning back to see the helmet staring at you, unmoving.
You… you know it must just be a joke, right?  Just a stupid extension to the one he made earlier, it must be.  You blink dumbly at him and flick your gaze between the visor and two large black eyes staring at you from the crib, wondering if you glitched or if you’re just hallucinating.
“Uh…” you hear yourself say, even though you’ve got absolutely nothing, but Din doesn’t offer anything else to fill in the gaps of your startled misunderstanding.  If you didn’t have such a wild fucking reaction to the words, you'd probably wonder if he actually said them or not—that’s how much he gives away.  Silent, so unbelievably silent when you’re begging him to give you at least something.  Is he messing with you again?  Is he just that confident that you’re going to fail?
It takes forever for you to turn back around and face the target, but you eventually do when he refuses to elaborate.  Your heart slams in your chest and you wonder what you’re doing even attempting this.
The moment you lift your trembling arms is the moment you know your heart is pounding too fast—your finger twitches with the wild rush of blood flow and you end up pulling the trigger way before you’re ready.  You fire before you’ve checked your sights, you fire before you’ve taken any sort of aim whatsoever, you fire spontaneously enough to surprise even yourself and it—
—it hits dead center.
Your stomach drops and a jolt of some rabid feeling punches through you, you have no idea what it is.  You whip around so fast that you get dizzy, seeing him standing there, completely still.
“That was just beginner’s luck,” you quickly reassure him, suddenly feeling faint.  Holy shit, holy shit, what the fuck just happened?  “Listen—hey, no, listen, I can’t get it again,” you explain shrilly to the utterly dead silence from him.  “Look, watch this, double or nothing.”
You spin back around, well aware that absolutely nothing about what you just said or what just happened made any fucking sense at all.  Beginner’s luck when you’ve been consistently awful at this, telling him repeatedly to listen when you’re very, very fucking aware he hasn’t said anything, double or nothing on a literal proposal as if double marriage is something that actually exists?
No.  Shut up.  Don’t even think that word, don’t think about fucking anything.  Fire, fire without thinking, just lift the gun and pull the trigger—
You do, and oh.  Oh, no.
“Uh?!”  Your voice comes out on a squeak, now in a complete fucking panic.  What the fuck?  No fucking way.  Perfect, perfect, the odds are fucking astronomical—another deadly accurate shot.  “Ah, um, okay, scratch everything I said—th-third time’s a charm?”
Wide-eyed and having absolutely no clue what you’re doing at this point, you fail to see Din slowly turn his helmet down and to the right as he stands behind you.  You go to lift your arms and pull the trigger, but then he suddenly reaches out lightning-quick and bumps your elbow upwards at the very last second.  
The abrupt push causes your shot to be angled off course spectacularly and you can’t do anything but look up and gasp in horror, worried it’s going to ricochet off the ceiling and land somewhere this building isn’t architecturally designed to absorb.  There’s just enough time to wildly wonder why the fuck he did that—
—but then, like pure magic before your eyes… the beam of plasma adjusts itself in midair.  
It fucking bends.  Across the length of your entire firing lane, it curves in a downward trajectory and hits the target with absolutely impossible physics.
Your jaw fucking drops and you whip your body around in dumb shock to see Din staring hard at the closed shield next to him.
… that’s not closed.
The baby tilts his head at you and coos happily, one ear tipping up while the other tips down, and you’re completely blown away.  Not only at the entirely unexpected demon-power display, but what specifically he was hoping to get out of it.  You’re still stuck, blinking down at the adorable little goof with abilities you’ll never understand.
Only, a hand suddenly grabs yours and drags you back to yourself.
“We need to leave,” Din says quietly, switching the lid shut on the hovering crib and pushing it towards the booth’s exit while tugging you along behind him.  “I don’t know how many people saw that, we need to leave.”
Sure enough, voices in the next partition over start picking up, likely the only ones in here who had a good enough angle to watch the physically unthinkable shot somehow meet its target, and your adrenaline quickly begins pumping while you keep your head down and power-walk your ass to the door.  You don’t know the kind of consequences that could potentially arise from others witnessing the kid’s literal sorcery, but you know you’d rather not take the chance.  The voices start growing louder as you three make your quick escape, beginning to ask others around them if they just saw that, but you’re already out of the rectangular adobe structure and long gone by the time anybody steps out of their panels to hear the uproarious accusations of cheating beginning to fly.
***
Stay tuned for the next part!
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rubysunnday · 3 years
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she’s a lady
Request by @amirahiddleston​ - may i get #3 with benedict bridgerton x reader in which y/n isn’t a proper ‘lady’ but is often forced to go to the galas?
A/N: I hope this is alright, darling!
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Y/N glowered at her aunt. “I cannot believe you managed to convince me to attend this... thing.”
“And I cannot believe that you’re still complaining,” her aunt, Allison, countered. “It will be fine.”
“I’m not a proper member of the ton, Auntie,” Y/N replied, slumping back into the cushioned seats of the carriage. “As everyone keeps making abundantly clear.”
“Lady Whistledown likes you,” Allison said, raising her eyebrows. “As do the Bridgerton’s.” 
Y/N sighed. “Yes, thank you, Auntie. I still don’t understand why you drag me along with you to these things.”
“You entertain me.”
“What am I, your performing monkey?” Y/N asked, giving her a very unimpressed look. “You just like talking to Lady Danbury about how intolerable the rest of society is.” 
“Well, yes,” Allison said, nodding. “But it’s also a good opportunity -”
“Oh, not this again -”
“ - for you to find a husband -”
“ - I do not need you playing matchmaker for me, Auntie!” Y/N snapped, giving her aunt a very pointed and grumpy look. “I’ll be fine.”
Her aunt raised her eyebrows at her niece. “You’ll become a spinster.”
Ah, the dreaded condition known as the spinster. An unmarried woman became known as a spinster when she went beyond the usual age for marriage. This was usual twenty-eight which was, in Y/N’s mind, still fairly young for a woman. 
Y/N groaned and looked out the carriage window, choosing to ignore her aunt’s comment. “Oh, look, we’re here,” she said, thankful that the carriage had pulled up to Lady Danbury’s estate at the right moment. 
A footman stepped forward and opened the carriage door. He held out a hand for Y/N and she took it, letting him help her down the stairs.
“Thank you,” Y/N said with a smile as she pulled her shawl around her shoulders. 
“Y/N!” 
Benedict Bridgerton broke off from his mother and Colin and began walking up to her. 
“Benedict!” Y/n greeted, walking to meet him. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”
“I was dragged along,” Benedict muttered, shooting his mother as disdainful look.
Violet merely gave Y/N a cheer wave as she walked in to the building with Colin and Anthony. 
“Same here,” Y/N replied, shooting her aunt a disdainful look who’d happily caught up with Violet Bridgerton. “Well, we can be miserable together.”
“And perfectly happy apart,” Benedict finished, holding his arm out for her to take. “Miss Y/L/N.”
“Mr Bridgerton,” Y/N replied, smiling. 
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Y/N was miserable. She hadn’t been this unhappy since she’d been forced to dance with Lord Berbrooke until Anthony Bridgerton had swung in and saved her.
“Lord Smith, I don’t suppose we could have a break for a few minutes?” Y/N asked as the dance (the third one she’d danced with him that night) ended. “I’d like a drink and a moment to catch my breath.”
“Ever the lady,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.
Y/N curtsied to him. Lord Smith was not a very nice person and didn’t particularly care about the etiquette of society. Y/N took her chance and tried not to run through the crowd to escape the man. Her aunt had vanished along with Lady Bridgerton and Lady Danbury and Benedict had disappeared off with his sister and she’d been left to the lion’s den with no one around.
In her haste, she didn’t look where she was going and walked straight into someone.
“Oh!” Y/N exclaimed. She felt herself falling backwards only to be saved from impact with the floor by someone’s hands grabbing her waist.
“Sorry!” Benedict exclaimed, wincing with embarrassment as he caught her from falling on to the floor. “That was my fault.”
“I wasn’t looking,” Y/N replied, waving his concern off. She glanced behind her and silently cursed as she saw Lord Smith heading her way, weaving through the crowd like a man on a mission. “Catch me,” she said quickly, looking up at Benedict.
Benedict frowned. He looked behind her and saw Lord Smith approaching and his frown depended. “What?”
“I’m going to fake a swoon to scare him off, please catch me,” Y/N replied, urgency in her voice. 
She didn’t give Benedict a chance to question her, admittedly, shoddy plan. If she'd had more time - and wasn’t so desperate to just vanish into thin air - she probably could have come up with a better plan. But, as it was, Y/N took a leaf out of the debutantes guid book, closed her eyes and dropped, hoping her friend was going to understand her urgency and actually catch her.
Judging from the gasp that went up around them and the fact she felt Benedict’s arms gently lower her to the floor, she assumed he’d caught on to her plan. 
“Have you been practicing that?!” Benedict whispered, moving her so that she rested against his leg. 
Y/N felt a hint of a smile on her lips but forced herself to keep calm. 
“What happened?”
That was Anthony. Which meant she was now safely out of Lord Smith’s grasp. Y/N slowly opened her eyes and found herself looking up into Benedict’s eyes. 
“Hi,” she said softly, smiling. 
“Have a nice nap?” Benedict asked, helping her sit up. One hand rested on her shoulder and the other was still around her waist - his grip firm and reassuring. 
Anthony handed her a glass of water and raised an eyebrow at her, completely unconvinced by her little act. “You swooned?”
“Oh, be quiet,” Y/N muttered, taking the water and sipping it. “It was an emergency.” She nodded behind Anthony at Lord Smith who was standing next to Lady Danbury and appeared to be getting an earful about three dances in a row from her and Lady Bridgerton. “I was trying to escape.”
Anthony rolled his eyes. “Of course.”
Benedict chuckled and Y/N felt his chest vibrate with it. She struggled not to smile a giddy smile as she suddenly realised how close she was to him - and the fact his hand was still on her waist. 
“Want to try standing up?” He suggested, raising his voice on behalf of the ton who were watching and listening.
Y/N nodded and let the two brothers help her to her feet. “Thank you,” she said, turning to face Benedict. “I’d like some fresh air, if that’s alright?”
“Of course, Miss Y/L/N,” Benedict said, all but beaming at her. He took her arm and they slowly made their way out onto the terrace - away from the ballroom and the prying eyes of London.
Once they were safely away from the ballroom, Benedict let go of her arm and turned to her, raising an eyebrow.
“The fake swoon?” He asked, crossing his arms and smirking. “Seriously, Y/N? I expected better.”
“What was I meant to do?!” She exclaimed, throwing her hands up. ““Three dances, Benedict, three. I know I’m not a proper lady but -”
“Don’t say that,” Benedict said softly, taking her hand. 
Y/N frowned. “Don’t say... what?”
“That you’re not a proper lady,” Benedict elaborated. “I don’t like it when you talk about yourself as if you’re nothing.”
Y/N smiled sadly. “Well, in the eyes of society, Benedict, I am nothing. I’m an orphan with almost no dowry and an aunt who’s marriage lasted a month before he died. I come with scandal and a reputation that was ruined before I even arrived.”
“Yet you are as much as a lady as those women in there,” Benedict replied. He raised a hand and rested it on Y/N’s cheek. “If not more. Reputation be damned, Y/N, you are more than worthy of the title of Lady. Heritage and money may buy you the title of lady but it doesn’t make you one. A lady requires grace and agility and elegance. They have to dance and be perfect and - why are you looking at me like that?”
Y/N stared at him. “You and the point of that sentence are further apart than the Earth is from Pluto.”
“I’m trying to compliment you!” He exclaimed, staring back at her. “I was -”
“Going off on a tangent that was entirely unrelated to the start of the sentence!”
“Y/N!”
“Benedict!” Benedict whirled around and marched towards her. For a moment, Y/N thought he was going to yell at her or something alike. 
Instead, he held her face between his hands and kissed her on the lips. 
Y/N, completely stunned by the sudden change in emotion and the fact that Benedict Bridgerton was kissing her froze.
Benedict, noticing her attempt at being a statue, stopped kissing her and stepped back slightly. “I’m sorry that was... I’m sorry. I hope no one saw that -”
“Benedict -”
“If they have, I’ll happily -”
“Benedict -”
“I’m sure Anthony won’t mind -”
“Benedict!” Y/N yelled, grabbing his face between her hands and forcing him to look at her and be quiet. “Shut up.”
Before he could protest, Y/N stepped forward and kissed him on the lips. Her hand moved to the back of his head and she leant forward, kissing him with all the passion and intensity she had for him. 
Benedict broke away from her, panting slightly. “Y/N,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.
“Yes?”
“Anthony’s staring at us.”
Y/N spun around and, sure enough, Anthony was standing in the doorway to the ballroom, conveniently inspecting a flower bush.
“Anthony,” Y/N scolded, walking forward. “What are you doing?!”
“Ensuring my brother doesn’t ruin a lady’s reputation,” Anthony replied, his arms behind his back.
“For the thousandth time -”
“You are not a lady,” Benedict chimed in, walking up behind her and kissing her cheek. “We know.” 
Anthony smiled and offered his arm to her. “Well, I disagree. You are a lady to me, Miss Y/L/N. And, because of that, I’m now your chaperone.”
“Oh, you are, are you?” Y/N quipped, accepting his arm. “Does that mean Benedict has to ask your for permission?”
“I believe so,” Anthony replied. “And besides, I do believe a special license would make an excellent early wedding present for the two of you.”
“Oh, god, Anthony!”
2K notes · View notes
sukirichi · 3 years
Note
hey!! congrats on 500!! could i get breakfast: ingredient 33 + sugar 7 for nanami kento? thanks!!
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VIOLET
violet; a flower that symbolizes faith and affection — this was simply one of your promises to Nanami.
meal order: 🥞 + 33 (royalty au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) (no warnings, other than this fic is unedited.)
notes: thank you so much for joining the event and requesting! i honestly loved this idea so much, i still remember how happy i was when i first saw it and i looked forward to writing it. i hope this was what you were looking for! i may or may not have been too deep in the feels with this one. anyways, enjoy and thank you so much! breakfast has been served!
word count: 7k+ 
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“Nanami.”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
You looked up from under the golden roof, a small smile on your face. The sun shone down brightly, the calm, gentle air making the flowers in your royal garden dance side by the side, almost as if encouraged by the soft kiss of nature. In this lightning, all the colors popped out vibrantly, a wide array of splashes of life laid out before you. “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”
Nanami, your bodyguard, followed your line of sight. “Yes, Your Highness.”
Stiff and straightforward as ever, you connoted with a hidden smile. “Perfect,” you announced, lifting your gloved hands in a beckoning gesture. “Come with me. I must inspect the garden. I heard from the staff last night that my new flowers have arrived. I shall see to it that it came in perfect condition,” Nanami nodded beside you and followed you as you trudged all the way out in broad daylight, your hair shining from the sun’s rays.
As if noticing the harsh glare of heat on your skin, Nanami was quick to open your parasol, standing at least a foot behind you. Trained to be obedient flawless in their duties, his footsteps were silent behind you, nothing but the tapping of your heels against the ground heard from the open space.
You were shielded from the heat, but you weren’t satisfied.
With a faux, distressed clicking of your tongue, you stopped in your tracks, whipping around to face your black-suit clad bodyguard. His gaze immediately fell down to your feet, back tilted in a perfect bow. You sighed, “Nanami.”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“Do you want to be fired?”
He froze at your words, momentarily looking up at you for a moment before turning to the ground again. “Of course not, Your Highness,” although monotonous, you could detect the slight tinge of worry in his voice, and you felt a smile crossing on your lips when you saw his brows furrow. “I extremely apologize if I’ve done something wrong. I must repent for it and assess my worth as your—”
“You’re not holding the parasol properly,” you cut him off and stepped forward, reaching to his extended arm and placing yourself right next to him until your shoulders were close enough to brush against each other.
Nanami’s jaw clenched at the lack of space, probably worrying that this was disrespectful, completely unaware you enjoyed every single moment of it, especially now that your senses were clouded with both his masculine scent and the calming aroma of flowers.
“If you keep such a distance from me and extend your arm to hold this, you’d tire your arm, and when your arm is strained, then you won’t be able to be fast enough to protect me from whatever harm comes my way. Plus, holding it in this manner leaves my nose to be burnt under the harsh sun! You wouldn’t want your princess to have sunburn, would you?”
“Definitely not, Your Highness. I would not want any harm or trouble your way.”
“So then step close to me. Like this,” you gestured to the both of you, and underneath the parasol, the hesitance swirled all over those pretty blue eyes of his. It made you want to sigh; he worried too much sometimes. “See? Your arm won’t be tired and my nose is perfectly safe under this shade.”
“But Your Highness – this distance—”
“I shall permit it for now. The situation calls for it,” you waved a hand nonchalantly, moving to where you wanted to see the new flowers. Although you couldn’t see him, the lack of warmth beside you was a telltale Nanami was too stunned to move, and you turned around, head tilted challengingly. “Or you’re still questioning the judgment of your princess?”
Nanami frowned, “I am not, Your Highness.”
“Good. Let’s see the flowers then,” You chirped with a clap.
It was the perfect day for a stroll, a rare day where you basked in not having to worry about your princess duties. The sun was out, the skies were clear, and was that a butterfly happily flying in your garden? Now that Nanami had grown comfortable after mentally reassuring himself it was fine to stick close to you, it honestly couldn’t have been better. But you being the sneaky little princess you were, you still had other plans in mind.
Three maids appeared out of nowhere, carrying a basket, a blanket, and a bottle of wine. They all strolled your way with their heads duck down, wordlessly setting out the white and red plaid patterned blanket on the soft, freshly trimmed grass.
You clapped your hands in sheer enthusiasm, “Oh, how perfect timing! It is quite tiring to stroll around this massive garden, don’t you think, Nanami? We should take a break.”
“A...picnic, Your Highness? Out here? Would you not be more comfortable inside—”
“The dining halls are boring and all the staff would be staring at me as I eat,” you plopped down rather ungraciously on the ground, taking off your heels and planting your sock clad feet on the blanket. On any other normal day, your dear Mother would’ve smacked you with her fan had she seen you act this way, but your parents were out of town, and Nanami was the last person who’d ever judge you. You had every right to be free. “It’s not a very comfortable thing, as you must know, and I’d like to enjoy my temporary freedom.”
A few beats passed as Nanami processed your words. A frown still on his handsome face, he studied the comfort of your body on the ground, already moving to open the basket with a cheerful hum. He supposed it wouldn’t be so bad to let you be this way.
“I will follow whatever pleases you then, Your Highness.”
You hid a smile through sucked in cheeks, pulling out the cake and acting surprised even though you’d ordered this days ago, randomly dragging a servant aside to shyly ask her to get you Nanami’s rumored favorite cake from when he went with you on a trip overseas.
“Oh, look! Fondant Cake from the Kingdom of Cherie. Fine, fine wine too, the best from His Majesty’s collection, if I heard it correctly,” you could barely contain your glee when the slightest light glimmered through his guarded eyes, hands reaching down to pat the empty space beside you. “Sit down. I need you to eat this for me.”
“But Your Highness—”
“Lest you want me to be poisoned, Nanami?” you reeled your hand back, gloved hands placed above your chest as horror filled your gaze. Nanami – bless his sweet soul – quickly bent his knees in half. Slowly, with disbelief still crossing his mind, he allowed you to spoon feed him, the chocolate sauce of the cake staining the tips of his lips. “Well? How is it? Is it safe to eat?”
Nanami moaned; pride swelling up on your chest because finally, you could do something for him. He was still too cautious though, and he concealed his delight with a slight clearing of his throat, palms flat on his muscular thighs as he nodded your way. “It is extremely delicious, Your Highness. I believe it is safe to eat.”
“Did you like it?” You already knew the answer, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear it straight from him.
“Yes.”
Thankful that your ears were covered by a frilly bonnet so he wouldn’t see how warmth crawled up at the tips of your ears, you beamed at him, proudly presenting more of the surprised you had in store.
“I have fresh milk cheese from the city of Lein too. Do you know that people travel from all over the world just to visit Lein and have a taste of this cheese? If it were not for our good connections to them, we would never be able to taste this,” you felt Nanami’s curious gaze fall on the delicacy on your hands, a smirk tilting your lips because cheese as quite rare where you were from. Setting it down on a plate, you cut a piece of the dairy, the fork nearly shoved in Nanami’s face. “But just to make sure, of course. We never know people’s intentions – I could be poisoned. You know very well there are plenty of people after the throne and my head.”
Nanami’s eyes widened at your implications, “Princess, please do not speak so lightly of the threats over your life.”
“Why, does it worry you?”
Nanami looked at you like you’d grown two heads. “Of course it does. It is my duty to protect and worry about you.”
“Is it really just a duty?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Nothing,” you said through gritted teeth, pushing the plate towards him again before Nanami could comprehend whatever went on in your head. “Pair it with the cake. Maybe there could be a chemical reaction that is life threatening. Oh, how I fear for my life, Nanami.”
Obediently, Nanami swallowed the food, eyes closed from the flavors bursting through his mouth. It wasn’t too much of a reaction, but there were hardly any when it came to Nanami to begin with, so it was enough for you, and your giggles were stifled beside him. “I believe this one is safe too.”
And so began your spontaneous picnic, with Nanami being flustered the whole time because you insisted on feeding him. He refused many times, claiming that a royal shouldn’t feed a servant, much less spend their time with him this way. Even though you didn’t mean it, you rolled your eyes just to dissipate his worries, lying through your teeth that you were full and you didn’t want to be suffocated in your corset.
You proceeded to tell him of the different ways his precious princess could die of asphyxiation. The more grotesque your storytelling began; Nanami ate everything quietly, still oblivious that you had your eyes on him the whole time.
He ate quickly, not wanting to be rude and take up too much of your time, but you insisted that you didn’t want him to choke and ordered him to slow down. As your lovely and dutiful servant, who was he to defy your orders? So he took his time, and you closed your eyes, leaning back onto his firm shoulders that grew rigid under the contact.
Soon though, Nanami relaxed, and you were about ready to fall asleep when Nanami quietly announced he’d finished his food, thanking you for the meal.
“That was a lovely picnic,” you grinned at him, even if you’d barely eaten anything.
After all, you only asked for servings for one person, lying to your staff that you wanted it for yourself. Should the higher-ups ever hear about you ordering two servants to share it with someone else when it was painfully clear to everyone in the kingdom you had no prince, it would cause chaos.
Nanami followed you as you stood up, the servants taking it upon themselves to clear up the dishes before they left you to your own devices. You walked all the way near the back of the garden, a place private only for the royal members for this was where they kept their most precious flowers. Upon seeing that the ones you’ve ordered had arrived and they were blooming beautifully beside the white roses, you ran to it, gesturing for Nanami to come closer. He leant down to inspect it, watching the way it twirled around your elegant fingers.
“This is called a Violet. It symbolizes faith and affection.”
“It is beautiful,” he commented quietly, his cool gaze sliding over to yours. “It suits you very much, Your Highness.”
Your cheeks warmed at the sudden attention, which was ironic, since wasn’t that what you always wanted? “I think it suits someone else better, if I were to be honest,” you admitted mysteriously, leaving your bodyguard confused for the nth time that day, but as always, he kept silent unless spoken to. Nanami’s eyes drifted to the flowers again, the rule of never looking in the eyes of royals burned right through his head.
Deep down in your heart, you knew it was a bit too early, but you’d always been impatient. You wouldn’t wait for the right time or the perfect opportunity – you preferred to grab moments and create them yourself.
Squeezing the hem of your dress under bundled fists, you finally gained the courage to be as upfront with him. “Nanami, can you promise me something?”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“Never forget this flower. When you are feeling down, I want you to remember this lives and blooms here, that it was the Princess’ favorite, and she wants nothing more than to have this whole garden bloom with it,” You knew, you knew painfully that Nanami may never understand your garden referred to your heart and that it bloomed with your affection for him, but was it so bad to hope that one day you may show your adoration for him?
You’d prepared for this – for the possibility that maybe you never could – so you ordered these flowers, wishing silently that someday Nanami might understand the things you could never say.
“When the right time comes, I shall pluck a flower and give it to the person that receives my faith affection, and I’ll create an entire garden for them.”
Nanami absorbed your words, processing them seriously just as a servant should when it comes to their master’s words. A moment later, Nanami nodded once, head bowed in respect. “I’m sure whoever Prince is lucky enough to get your hand in marriage will be absolutely delighted, Your Highness.”
“The person I long for is not a prince,” you hinted, “He sure is charming, however, much to his ignorance.”
Nanami peeked at you under his blond lashes, the confused pout on his face worrisome yet adorable. It made you want to step forward and capture those red lips in a kiss, but you were still his Princess, and he your bodyguard. You couldn’t do it – not now, at least – for his sake. “I am not sure it would be ideal that you marry a non-royal, Your Highness.”
“Tell me, Nanami,” you began, voice turning serious that his ears perked up at the sudden firmness compared to your usually lilted self. “Do you believe love should be constrained by rules and traditions?”
His answer came in an instant, making you wonder if he would still keep to his words if he found out everything. “No, Your Highness.”
You smiled at his answer – longingly, proudly, and at the same time sadly. “And I wholeheartedly agree with you on that.” Without another word, you turned your back on him and walked back inside the large castle, his footsteps finally audible as he followed you.
Funny it was, that you, a royal-blooded woman found so much comfort in the sound of someone’s breathing and footsteps.
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“Nanami.”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
You sighed and placed your book down your lap, playfully glaring at the stiff bodyguard who hadn’t moved a muscle ever since he accompanied you in your private library. “You are causing me an uncomfortable amount of stress. I do not like it.”
“What have I done wrong, Your Highness?” his voice trembled again, his back forming that straight, perfect bow that you knew took him years to practice. It probably caused him a lot of pain if his head guard slapped the other servants’ backs just to straighten their spine, and you winced at the idea of it. No one had ever even dared laid a finger on your hair; not without your permission, anyway.
“I sincerely apologize for my shortcomings. I hereby vow to do better in my duties to serve you.”
“As you should. Now come here,” you beckoned him to come closer, sighing louder when Nanami sat a foot away from you, lips pressed into a tight line. “Closer, Nanami.”
Biting his lip – and you nearly couldn’t tear your gaze away from the sight – Nanami inched closer to you, his back still perfectly straight, eyes staring straight ahead, and he was so rigid you wondered if he even breathed at all.
You shook your head with a stifled smile, soft, tireless hands bunching up to release the tight knots of his firm, broad shoulders. You weren’t surprised he felt this hard under your touch; he was a bodyguard, after all, the Princess’ personal one, at that. It made sense he kept himself trimmed, but it didn’t stop the heat spreading all over your skin anyway as you imagined just how firm he was under his clothes.
Eager to get rid of such inappropriate thoughts, you huffed through your nose, continuing to roll your fingers over his back.
“You look so stiff that I cannot focus on this novel I’m reading. Heavens know how shameful it must be that we are getting scholars to study with me this weekend and I am not even halfway done with this classic. It truly bothers me, Nanami.”
“Your Highness,” Nanami’s voice was hushed, his eyes staring directly into yours. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you a massage. If you keep up being this rigid around me, I will lose focus because it makes me uncomfortable, and if I lose focus, I can’t perform my duty well as the princess, and if I am unable to do that, I lose respect, then my title stripped away from me. Terrifying, Nanami. Terrifying, indeed.”
Nanami was silent for a while, his gaze not leaving your focused face. Then, he turned away, his shoulders deflating as he gave in to the pleasure of your surprisingly expert hands. “I am extremely sorry.”
“As you should be,” you commented sarcastically, “Now relax. Pick up a book you like and have some of the biscuits, tea. I cannot focus with you standing around me like a statue. The stone gargoyles do that for us already,” when Nanami didn’t budge a muscle even after you’d finished massaging him, you waved a hand in the air, brow raised challengingly. “Well? Are you defying my orders?”
Nanami shot up from his seat in an instant, “Of course not, Your Highness.”
You pulled the book up higher to hide the wide grin on your lips, watching his curious and slightly dazed staring at the walls upon walls of books stacked upon one another. His wonder of the sight left you wondering just how you managed not to kiss every part of him senseless, for he was so fascinating and far more intriguing than any other universe written beyond these pages.
Nanami’s long, slender fingers finally plucked out a rather thick novel he seemed to find interesting, making his way back to you. He still sat on the other end of the couch to respect your space, and you kept silent this time, not wanting to cross the line.
He may be comfortable around you now, but you knew Nanami better than anyone, and he still held his orders and duties close to his heart that he would never break them no matter what.
It was a compelling quality of his – one you had no idea whether to admire or be irritated of.
Your twinkling eyes studied his stunning features; from his slicked back hair, to his sunken cheeks, all the way down to the sharp point of his nose and to the plumpness of his lips. He was too beautiful that you wondered how he hadn’t managed to be snagged away yet when you were reminded that Nanami was too busy in his duties of protecting you to have time for romance – and for the first time, you felt thankful for the fact you were a royal.
“That is a good one,” you piped up as you read the title of the classic novel. It was a classic about the variegated realms between dreams and reality, one you haven’t read but always wanted to. “Do you mind reading it to me someday? I love the sound of your voice.”
Nanami’s cheeks flushed a bright red at your unexpected compliment, but he nodded anyway, clearing his throat before he spoke. “S-someday, Your Highness, if your schedule allows it so.”
It sounded so much like a promise – and you looked forward eagerly to it.
Finally gaining your focus and determination to study and perform your royal duties now that Nanami had finally taken some time to relax, you did the same, leaning back onto the velvet couch and crossing your legs over the other. “Someday it is.”
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“You have to be prepared for your coronation ball,” Rubine, one of the assistants of your dancing tutor made known, snapping her fingers in front of your face when you’d unknowinfly spaced out the window. “Now, up on those toes, back straight and head held high, Your Highness. Let us see if you’ve mastered your dance routine. You must understand it is the most crucial part of the ball and all eyes will be watching you. You cannot afford to make a single mistake.”
Suddenly remembering of why you were spacing out, you winced at the previous phone call prior to Rubine’s arrival. “I am well aware of that, Rubine, but...”
“But?”
“My dance partner, Philippe, just called to say he’s fallen ill and cannot make it today.”
“Ah, Philippe!” Rubine tugged at her hair, dramatically bending forwards to groan, “This is the final rehearsal! Your coronation is so near!” She sat up straight and paced back and forth, her long locks jumping and bouncing as she chewed at her nails. “Well, what shall we do now? We don’t have anyone else to practice with you and I’m only here to substitute for Madam Tee. She’d kill me if she finds out you didn’t rehearse, and I doubt any of the boy servants would know anything about the dance.”
“If I may,” Nanami suddenly spoke up from the corner, tentatively approaching the both of you with one of his hands laid flat on his abdomen. You and Rubine fell silent, his eyes flitting over yours for a moment. “I’ve been with the Princess from all of her dance classes. I know the routine very well,” his tongue darted out to lick at his lips, sending both your mind and heart into a frenzy overdrive. “If Her Highness is comfortable with it, I may be her dance partner for now.”
“That works, I suppose.”
“I’d like to see you dance, Nanamin,” you teased confidently, but no mistake, your heart drummed wildly in your chest at the idea of dancing with the man who’d unknowingly captured both your eye and heart the moment you met him. “Let’s see how good you are then. I warn you though; I’m a very skilled dancer. But please, don’t fret, I won’t criticize you.”
You expected Nanami to at least go along with your lighthearted teasing, but he was Nanami Kento; a very dutiful servant who lived to please and serve his master.
He simply pressed a polite kiss to the pads of your knuckled when you offered it, his eyes still unreadable as he praised, “You are a very good dancer indeed, Your Highness.”
You already knew that, but hearing it fall from his lips hit differently. It suddenly got harder and harder to remember the routine, your confidence slipping into thin air the moment his warm hands wound around the curve of your waist, flattening at the small of your back.
Your breath hitched as you looped your fingers through his larger, calloused ones, and your heart absolutely melted because you fit just perfectly in his hands. Considering that you’d taken off your gloves, you could feel ever callous and scar in his hands, a huge contrast to your soft ones that had never known a day of manual labor.
Nanami was close enough you could feel his breath warm your cheeks, with you staring up at him with wide, blown out eyes. He was still expressionless as ever, jaw tight and brows dipped low, but you could see the softness in his gaze – nearly bordering on adoration.
In that moment, you felt yourself falling harder, and soon, you were both lost in the music.
Nanami was right – he did know the dance. For such an unyielding protector, Nanami danced extremely well, his turns and guidance to your twists flawless.
He caught you in his arms each time, his hands slipping back to hold your waist as if it was second nature for him to hold you like this, to dance with you like this. Everything faded into nothingness at the background, both your gazes captured and enamored by one another. Somewhere in the climax of the dance, your chest pressed flush against his a little tighter, your hands squeezing his a little harder, and you both danced like you were the only ones that mattered in each other’s world.
And in that moment, it felt like you did.
When the music slowly faded out to its ending, you and Nanami were both breathing hard from the strenuous performance that required the utmost elegant execution. Still, his hands remained on your waist, your hand holding him in such a manner that you almost refused to let him go.
But you had to – you knew you had to – and with a broken smile, you pulled away from Nanami.
“Wow,” breathed out Rubine “Princess, I am blown away. You’ve danced better than you ever did with Philippe. You two have got amazing chemistry,” she rubbed her chin at the observation, but you and Nanami were turned away from each other, both of your hearts more conflicted than ever. Rubine, however, remained unknowing of this all. “I guess being around each other all the time adds in to that fact too. That was a very mesmerizing and intimate performance – I actually felt a little guilty that I’m witnessing such moment.”
“I am glad I could be of service to Her Highness.”
Your gaze cut through his, the heat in your eyes loud enough that he was compelled to hold your stare. You immediately softened at his expression; giving in to the pleads of your heart that you were and always will be, utterly and hopelessly in love with him – even if it was impossible he’d ever feel the same way.
Surely, though, it wouldn’t be so much of a sin for a princess to be selfish in a while. “I look forward to dancing with you on the ball, Nanamin.”
“I highly doubt that, Your Highness,” Nanami’s eyes blanked out into an unfathomable expression again, making you wonder if the fondness he held you with when you danced ever existed. “You would be swarmed and surrounded by royals and elites – and I shall be watching out for you from the distance, as always. It’s going to be a crucial event and you have duties to fulfil; a dance with your bodyguard would only ruin the importance of the event,” he reminded you, his words like a slap to your face.
You didn’t have to be scholarly enough to interpret the meaning of his words; Nanami was reminding you that he was servant as you were master, and it simply would not happen. “Who knows what people would say...I only worry about your reputation, Your Highness. Words cut deeper than a knife.”
“I know that,” you agreed with a shattered heart, “I guess I’ll just dream then.”
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The coronation went smoother than expected. Until it wasn’t. People from all over the world came, chatting with you about the latest political trends and plans on how you wished to broaden your territories and expand trading systems.
Everything went fine and accordingly to plan until the marriage talk was brought up. Before you knew it, princes and dukes, along with equally socially powerful men came flooding left and right, pressing kisses to your (thankfully) gloved hands and spewing out poetry as if it would impress you. In a way, it did, at least most of them had good taste in literature and were actually well-read, but your eyes kept searching for a certain blond in the crowd, that sinking feeling only growing in the pit of your stomach.
Eventually, it became too much for you.
A neighboring prince asked for your marriage and announced he was good friends with your family, and that about crossed the line and tipped you over the edge until you excused yourself. Growing too tired with all this unnecessary “royal duties”, you disappeared from the crowd, running to the nearest desolated terrace and crying your eyes out.
You never wanted to be a princess.
You never wanted to be born with such luxury, only to pay a price that you couldn’t even choose your own future.
You lost track of time and you no longer questioned why no one looked for you. With each passing second, the crown above your braided hair grew a lot heavier and you slumped across the pillar, burying your tear-streaked face behind your arms. You just felt so tired you wanted to rest – wanted to see Nanami, to run away, to tell him that you loved him.
But he wasn’t there. You hadn’t even seen him the moment you woke up, servants flocking you at every corner as they prepared you for the event.
Your heart ached and you called out for him in broken whispers, wishing that he’d be there to comfort you. “Nanami,” you cried out softly. It was pathetic, really, that the newly crowned queen was crying like a child who lost their toy as you hid from the crowd. “Nanami, where are you, Nanami—”
A pair of arms tugged you into a solid chest, your cheek pressing on top of a rapid heartbeat that raced to no end. Warm, strong arms engulfed you in a hug, a heavy head with a familiar scent falling on the sides of your head that was free from the tips of the crown.
“I thought I lost you, Queen,” Nanami panted, his hold on you growing tighter. Your tears stopped flowing as you fisted his shirt, weakening in his arms and he let you – he knew even the Queen of this prosperous kingdom was still a person and you allowed yourself to grow vulnerable, because this was Nanami and Nanami always caught you.
Before you could stop yourself, you leaned up and pressed your lips to his, the salt of your tears passing to his cheeks.
Nanami stood frozen solid for a second before he kissed you back, taking your breath away because his lips held the same wanting as yours did. Soon, his large hands cupped your face as he pulled you closer to him, sighing into your mouth as if he’s dreamed of this moment as long as you had. Nanami kissed you with so much love pouring from his lips that he didn’t have to tell you for you to know, prompting the dam within you to break.
You were crying – the happy tears flowing endlessly – while his thumbs wiped the tears away.
“I love you,” you confessed as you both pulled away, foreheads pressed against each other. This time, there was no more fear or worry as love shone in both your eyes, your hands still helplessly clinging on to him for dear life. “I love you, Nanami, I’ve always loved you. Please don’t leave me – please don’t.”
“I wasn’t going anywhere, Your Majesty,” he addressed you according to your new title, but nothing has changed for him. “I have loved you too long before, and I’ll still keep loving you if you’ll let me.”
That night, you both shared a plethora of first. The first kiss. The first dance. The first I love you’s that wouldn’t stop spilling from your lips, the confessions accompanied with laughter. It was only the beginning of a wonderful yet unforgettable memory, and you abandoned all the riches and gold in the world because this, right here was your real treasure, and you sealed your promise of your faith affection to him with one last kiss.
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Ever since you and Nanami had established your relationship, you felt like you were on cloud nine.
Being Queen didn’t seem too much of a grueling task anymore, not when Nanami was grazing his thumb over your knuckles under the table when you were doing paperwork, not when work days and boring, dreadful meetings always ended with him pulling you aside as everyone left for a quick kiss that soon turned into a heated lip-locking.
This was bliss – to have him right here, to finally be able to express how much you loved him – and you couldn’t get enough it.
You still had no king despite the number of suitors that visited every week, so much so that the maids have grown weary of cleaning up your trash bin filled with unopened love letters. Quite frankly, you couldn’t care less because you already had the love of your life within your arms. You turned everyone down, and it wasn’t a huge deal because you were just crowned Queen and surely you had far better things to do than worry about bringing about an heir, but it had already been a year and your advisors were mad.
They’ve informed you that several cities and kingdoms were losing trust over your reclusiveness, the diplomatic relationship turning strained thanks to your eagerness to deny everyone.
Your tongue slipped inside Nanami’s, his hands crawling under your night gown as his body crawled between your legs, with you sighing romantically into his mouth.
“Your Majesty,” he mumbled through stuttering kisses, his fingers deftly pressing into your curves. Despite your insistence that he addressed you by your name, Nanami requested that he still keep his duty as your bodyguard, and you were too soft to deny him this. “Your Majesty…I think we should put an end to this.”
You stopped kissing him.
Hands falling from his neck, you pulled away from him, eyes hardened into a glare. “What do you mean we should put an end to this? Are you suggesting we break up?”
“Yes.”
You gritted your teeth at how he said this so easily. Before you could open your mouth to retort, Nanami beat you to it, distracting you by pressing soft kisses on the column of your neck, always so gentle and careful to not leave marks where the maids could see.
“I’m only worried about you,” he whispered, “I am ruining your reputation because I am in love with you. Your Majesty, I promise to still serve you and be loyal to you,” Nanami pulled away after leaving one last kiss to the sensitive area of your neck that always had you whining in his arms, but this time, you whined out of desperation, nails digging into his bicep as he stared at you apologetically. “We cannot keep doing this, Your Majesty. We both cannot be selfish enough to abandon the future of our people.”
“Well, what about my future?” you banged your fist on your chest, “What about my happiness, Nanami, ever think about that?”
Nanami wiped away the tears streaming down your cheeks, pulling you into the comfort of his arms instead. He understood your pain better than anyone for he, too, shared your longing.
“I don’t want you to go,” you cried into his shoulder, gripping his shirt tightly that it crumbled beneath your grip. “It’s not a life if it’s not with you and just tell me what I have to do, I’ll abandon my title and I’ll stay with you, we don’t have to—”
Nanami silenced you with a kiss, this one more ardent than the others.
He whispered sweet nothings into yours, broken promises that he’d stay, that you didn’t have to change anything and that you could work it out. You believed him, or at least you fooled yourself that you did, because your hold on him was regretful, angry, begging.
The next morning, Nanami was gone from your chambers.
The next night, Nanami was gone from the servant chambers.
The next week, you were married to Prince Satoru from a Kingdom you’d never even heard of.
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Nanami resigned. As per rule of the kingdom, staff didn’t need the monarch’s permission to be dismissed from their post. He wasn’t there in your wedding, and he wasn’t there for the next few days to come. These days stretched into weeks, and two months have already passed before you were silently staring out at your window, wondering what Nanami was doing.
The last thing you heard from him was that he went back to his family’s warm, living a peaceful life and bowing one last time to you before he completely disappeared.
His letter remained in your drawers, his neat cursive informing you that he was a lowly servant, and didn’t deserve you, that he didn’t want to ruin your future and only wanted the best for you. You wanted to hate him for it, wanted to curse him for it – but you only tossed and turned in your bed, staring at the ceilings as you pictured his rare smile over and over again.
You wondered how he was doing.
Was he happy? Was he okay? Did he think of you night before he slept? Did he miss you the same way you craved his touch, his voice, his laugh – everything about him and himself?
A loud rattling caught your attention, your head turning to see Prince, or rather, King Satoru saunter in. He was popular in his kingdom and even rumored to have a harem, which you could see happening because he was flirty and shameless.
It was clear that this was a loveless marriage and he only agreed because he had good ties with your family, also adding in to the fact he was the richest and most powerful out of all your suitors. You weren’t too friendly with him, but you weren’t treating each other like strangers too. You both acknowledged each other according to the title, but it never stretched to the fact he was man and you his wife.
Satoru had never talked to you before other than the common pleasantries, so it surprised you when he sat across you, mirroring that familiar torn and forlorn feeling as he stared at your kingdom.
“You and I,” he began quietly, “We both want what we cannot have, don’t we?”
“Hmm.”
“I know you’re in love with someone else,” Satoru smiled, and your eyes widened when he only chuckled knowingly. “It’s okay, Queen, I promise I don’t mind. In fact, I’m just the same as you – I’m madly in love with my butler you won’t understand.”
You nearly toppled over your seat at the sudden confession that Satoru laughed as he helped pull you up, but it didn’t stop you from blabbering.
“You-you’re in love with Geto Suguru?”
“That I am. I’ve been in love with him since we were kids, to be honest, but people had different expectations and plans for me, as you can see.”
“I,” your throat ran dry, your palms growing sweaty. Surely…you could trust him with this, right? “I’m also in love with my bodyguard, or former bodyguard, anyway. His name is Nanami Kento and he’s currently at his farm and I-I—”
“You want to see him and break this marriage?” Satoru didn’t even have to hear the words come from your mouth before he’s pulling you up to your feet, crystalline blue eyes as vivid as the sky. “Well, what’s holding you back, Queen? Let’s go look for him.”
Satoru dragged you along the hallways, liberated laughter echoing in the large space of the castle before you two saddle up your respective horses, shouting for the gate guards to move away. You’ve never felt this free – and Satoru shared the same glee as yours when he stretched his arms beyond the sky, whooping as he smacked his horse to go faster.
By the time you’ve made it into Nanami’s farm, it was nearly sunset, and both you and Satoru were drained from the long journey.
Nanami was dressed in a plain shirt and worn-out sweatpants, dirt caked on his sunken cheeks when he turned at the sounds of horses galloping, you perched on top of your white stallion proudly. “Nanami!” his eyes widened and he dropped the bucket he was holding, the breath taken away from his chest when you jumped off your horse, crashing him into a huge hug.
“Your Majesty,” he spoke breathily, hands coming up to caress the back of your head. “What are you doing here? And King Satoru? What’s going on?”
You answered him by dragging his collar down until his lips danced with yours. Just like that, all your worries and previous sorrows washed away into nothing as his hands gripped tightly at your hips, kissing you back just as eagerly that even he was crying. This time around, you reached to swipe your thumb over the warm tears, kissing him over and over again to remind him your feelings hadn’t changed.
“Let’s go home, Nanami. I promise I’ll do everything right this time around – just please, come home with me.”
You’ve lost count of the times you’ve prayed to the divine beings over and over again to give you one last chance, fearful that maybe Nanami would still be firm in his belief that he wasn’t good enough for you when he was perfect the way he is.
But then he kissed the crown of your head as a silent form of affection, staring deep into your eyes as he smiled, “Your wish has always been my command, Your Majesty.”
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Nanami had his back turned to you, his slender hands plucking the violet flower. Upon hearing your not so sneaky footsteps, he whipped around and laughed just as you roared, making the little girl in his arms giggle, copying your greeting as she hissed her fangs.
“Rawr!”
“Aw, you’re so adorable!” you pinched her little cheeks before peppering them with kisses, your precious daughter laughing at the sudden shower of affection. Nanami laughed, too, the deep sound vibrating from deep within his chest. He held up your baby to kiss the left side of her cheeks while you squished her right, your baby’s cheeks smushed between the adoration of her parents. “You’re so cute – just like Daddy!”
“I am not cute,” he protested dejectedly, although the small smile on his face told a different story.
It wasn’t easy – none of this ever was, but you didn’t regret a single moment of it. The old school traditions of your kingdoms were abolished due to a long, hefty process of appealing to the public and proving that love should never be constrained by rules and traditions, and now Satoru was also happily married with his husband, Geto Suguru. The last letter you got from him informed you they adopted a two baby boys named Megumi and a feisty little girl called Nobara, and you were excited for the children to meet and play again.
Safe to say, it was all worth it. All the moments led up to this were painful and filled with longing, but you’d do it all over again if you could.
Because this was what you promised him – endless faith and affection – and you sealed this lifelong promise with a kiss.
“I love you, King,” you mumbled through his lips, and he laughed as he rocked the baby side to side. The kiss was slightly awkward since her grubby hands were trying to clutch both of your chins, sending you both into fits of laughter.
“I love you too, Queen,” he kissed the top of your head and your crown with it – for you were his woman, his wife, and the Queen who ruled all of his heart – leaning down to kiss his baby’s cheeks before he pulled you both in for a hug. The atmosphere that day was similar from when you first forced him to have a picnic with you; warm, sunny, with the wind encouraging the flowers to dance in sync like how you danced with Nanami when you were younger. Your baby gurgled nonsensically, Nanami smiling to himself as you both stared at the bundle of joy in his arms. “I love you too, Violet. Mommy and Daddy loves you a lot.”
To love him, to hold him, to cherish him – it was a promise you held deep within your soul.
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