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vanteguccir · 2 months

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4 Times That She Made Him Smile | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Y/N is the only person who can make Matt smile genuinely; OR 4 times that Y/N made Matt smile.

Warning: None.

Requested?: Yes, by anons.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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1. Had Matt shaved his beard?

The morning started like any other in the triplets' house. The sun had barely risen over the horizon when the three found themselves in the typical kitchen, each of them still fighting sleep but ready to face another day of recording.

Nick was busy preparing breakfast, while Matt and Chris lounged lazily around the table, Chris with his head lying on the wooden surface.

"Smells good, Nick. What are you making?" Matt murmured, rubbing the drowsiness away from his eyes.

"Waffles and bacon." Nick responded in a low, slow tone, stirring the strips inside the ceramic frying pan.

"Bacon with waffles?" Chris grimaced, yawning loudly as he lifted his head, laying his body haphazardly on the chair.

Meanwhile, Y/N was still in her own world, enjoying a peaceful sleep in her shared room with Matt. However, her sleep was interrupted by the sound of a plate hitting the sink's marble counter, followed by a loud curse.

With a yawn, the girl slowly sat down on the bed, running a hand through her messy hair and running her sleepy eyes around the room, already having the idea that Matt was in the kitchen, where the sound had echoed from.

Seconds later, she got out of bed and headed to the bathroom, ready to start her morning routine. But something immediately caught her attention as soon as she entered the smaller room. On top of the sink was Matt's beard trimmer, an object she recognized all too well.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she looked around, trying to process what she was seeing. Had Matt shaved his beard?

With her heart beating fast, Y/N ran back to the bedroom, grabbing the pajama shorts thrown on her boyfriend's gaming chair, quickly putting them on and finally leaving the room, completely ignoring her own messy appearance.

Back in the kitchen, the brothers were busy devouring the breakfast Nick had prepared. They barely noticed when Y/N walked out of the small hall that connected the room to her bedroom, her eyes fixed on Matt.

"Matt..." Her voice came out in an incredulous whisper as she approached, stopping in front of him and staring at his face intensely.

Matt looked up from his plate, smiling big when he saw her awake.

"Good morning, babe. How did you-" He interrupted his own sentence when he saw her condition, frowning in confusion and worry. "Hey, did something happen?"

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to maintain her composure, but the sight of Matt without a beard was too much for her. With a fake sob, she knelt before him, her eyes shining with false emotion.

"Matt, baby, how could you do this?" She whimpered, dramatizing every word. "You shaved your beard... The beard that I loved so much!"

The other two brothers watched the scene with wide eyes, not knowing whether to laugh or be worried about Y/N's reaction, unlike Matt, who took a few seconds to process what she had said, before a loud laugh escaped from his lips, his hands letting go of the food he was holding.

"We're done!"

Matt continued laughing, shaking his head in bewilderment.

"Y/N, did you hit your head?"

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2. Girls' night (with a masculine touch)

The night was warm and cozy in the triplets' house as Matt, Nick, Chris, and Y/N gathered in the living room. After a long day of recording and, on Y/N's part, studying, they decided it was time to relax and have fun together.

"What are we doing tonight?" Chris asked, throwing his phone onto his lap and looking around at the others, lowering his body onto the upholstery.

"Can we do our nails?" The suggestion escaped Nick's lips quickly, his eyes shining with excitement. "And maybe do some skincare."

"Like a girl's night?" Y/N smiled, straightening her posture quickly, feeling just as excited.

"Why not?" Matt shrugged, staring at his nails with a contemplative look. "But I've never done my own nails before, I always do them with Analysse."

"It's just painting your nails, like watercolor. It's not difficult, honey." Y/N waved her hand dismissively, getting up from her seat and running to her shared room with Matt, looking for her box of nail polish and nail's tools.

With their gear gathered, they arranged themselves comfortably and strategically on the couch, ready to begin their impromptu night of beauty.

Y/N led the way, skillfully beginning to paint her own nails as she explained the process.

"First, you need to apply a base coat to protect your nails." She explained, opening the base coat and carefully applying it, being quickly followed by Nick.

The brothers watched with interest, watching each movement with concentration.

"That seems easy enough." Chris commented, taking the little bottle from Y/N's hand and starting to apply it to his own nails.

Meanwhile, Matt was carefully examining the available nail polishes colors, trying to decide which one to choose. Y/N's eyes found his figure, a smile growing on her face, feeling great love for his appreciation and care for the moment.

"How about a black one with white details?" Matt suggested, holding up two bottles in the mentioned colors, showing them to Y/N with a proud smile on his face.

"It's going to look amazing, my love."

Chris quickly picked out his own nail polish color with Nick's help, returning to his seat while swinging his legs eagerly.

They dipped their brushes into the nail polish bottles with determination but soon discovered that painting their own nails wasn't as simple as it seemed.

"This is harder than I thought." Matt grumbled as he tried to paint his nails without smudging, his fingers shaking slightly as his tongue lolled slightly out of his lips in concentration.

Chris nodded, his lips pressed tightly together as he tried not to move his hand too much.

"I think I'm doing this wrong..."

"You two are doing pretty well for beginners." Y/N laughed softly, watching the brothers fondly.

After some errors, everyone finally finished painting their nails, each proudly displaying their own piece of art, even if it was a little smudged.

"Look at us, a bunch of nail professionals!" Nick joked, blowing on his freshly painted nails with a smile.

"Yeah, I guess we could consider a new career." Matt contributed, admiring his nails with a satisfied expression before raising his hands, his nails facing Y/N as he wiggled his fingers excitedly.

"It's perfect, babe, congratulations!" Y/N praised, leaning towards him slightly and sealing the back of his right hand with her lips lightly, exhaling the fresh smell of nail polish and acetone.

"Maybe we should open our own men's salon." Chris smiled, shaking his hands to dry the nail polish faster.

Matt laughed out loud, imagining the scene of them painting other men's nails with the same determination and enthusiasm they had moments ago. It would be comical.

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3. Video as a couple

Matt was nervous as he prepared to record his next video for his personal YouTube channel. It was still one of the first videos he posted there, and despite his enormous desire to make more content for his own channel, he felt an anxiety growing within him every time he thought about creating something new on his own.

Therefore, he decided to invite his girlfriend, Y/N, to participate with him in that specific one, taking advantage of the opportunity to introduce her as his girlfriend.

It's not that fans didn't know Y/N was his. They knew, and they knew it very well, but Matt never got around to introducing her as such officially.

"Are you ready for this?" He asked, looking at Y/N with a nervous smile.

"I should be the one asking you that." Y/N smiled small before nodding, holding his free hand affectionately. "But yes, I am. There's nothing I want more than to be said to be your girlfriend, baby."

With a nervous sigh, Matt began to set up the camera on the dashboard of the car, while Y/N settled into the passenger seat next to him, trying to calm him with words of encouragement.

"You'll do amazingly well, hon. I'm sure of it." Y/N said, leaning over the car console and giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.

Finally, everything was ready, and Matt began recording, his voice a little shaky at first but soon becoming more confident as he got used to the camera without his brothers around him.

"Hey! Welcome to my personal YouTube channel." He began, smiling slightly at the camera. "Today I have a very special guest for you to meet."

He turned his face to Y/N with a twinkle in his eye, who waved at the lenses, opening a shy smile.

"This is Y/N, my girlfriend." Matt continued, looking at her with big heart eyes. "Most of you already know her as our best friend, and maybe you already know about our relationship, but now we're finally going public to make it official... Well, she agreed to participate in today's video, so I hope you enjoy getting to know her a little better."

Y/N smiled as she watched her boyfriend introduce her as his, her cheeks taking on a reddish hue, feeling a little nervous and shy, but happy to be there next to him.

To make things more fun, Matt decided to answer some questions asked by fans about the two of them together or individually. He selected some of the funniest and most interesting questions and read them out loud for the two of them to discuss.

"Okay, first question." Matt began, looking at his phone in hand. "How we met?"

"Well, we actually met at a friend's birthday party from our school in elementary school. Matt was trying to impress everyone with his basketball skills, but he ended up hitting the ball over one of the girls' heads." Y/N laughed, remembering the story fondly.

Matt blushed at the memory, shaking his head and looking down, trying to hide the involuntary smile that took over his face.

"Next!" Matt cleared his throat, his voice coming out high-pitched from the shyness of the previous event. "What's the secret to a long-lasting relationship?"

"Oh, great question!" Y/N clapped her hands in excitement, lifting her legs and pressing the soles of her feet onto the seat, keeping her knees bent and tights against her chest. "For me, the key is communication and mutual support. It's important to always be honest with each other and literally be there through the good times and the bad."

"For sure, I also think it's essential to have understanding and empathy for each other. Being willing to listen and understand your partner's needs makes all the difference." Matt contributed.

He looked at his girlfriend, waiting for approval and receiving a big smile in return, which was accompanied by a nod.

"What's the most memorable memory you've had together?" Matt read the next question quickly, before looking up, his eyes alight with nostalgia. "There are so many wonderful memories to choose." He reflected, thoughtfully. "But one of my favorites was when we made our first unplanned trip together almost two years ago and ended up getting lost in a small town in Italy."

"Oh my God, so true!" Y/N threw her head back, laughing loudly at the memory. "That was an unforgettable experience. I remember we went to ask for directions at a small restaurant right on the corner from one of the alleys, and there were several pastas hanging, drying. I just asked the main chief what that was, and boom, we passed all day in that restaurant, tasting different types of fresh pasta and discovering more of their culture together."

As the video continued, Matt and Y/N shared more stories, laughs, and loving moments. They answered questions about their funny habits, their favorite couple traditions, and even their future plans together.

In the end, when Matt ended the video with a warm thank you to the fans who would watch it when posted, he turned to Y/N with a beaming smile.

"Thank you for doing this with me, petal." The brunette whispered, leaning over the car console and pulling her into a tight hug, smiling widely. "It meant the world for me."

"I'll always be here to support you, Matt. And I can't wait to make more videos together in the future." Y/N smiled, feeling happy to have shared that moment with Matt.

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4. Kittens day

Y/N woke up excitedly that morning, knowing it was the day she would volunteer at the cat kennel like she always did every Tuesday. It was an activity she loved doing, and she always invited Matt to join her, but his work with YouTube always ended up interfering.

However, this time, Matt had surprised Y/N by making room in his schedule to join her. She couldn't wait to share this experience with him.

When they arrived at the kennel, they were greeted by the soft sound of meows and purrs. Y/N smiled when she saw the felines playing and snuggling on their colorful scratching posts of all possible sizes.

"It's so good to be here." She said excitedly to Matt, taking his hand as they walked through the decorated halls. "Cats are so adorable and deserve so much love and affection."

Matt smiled as he listened to her chatter about the felines, watching them and her with fascination.

The couple spent the day taking care of the cats, feeding them, cleaning their litter boxes, and, of course, playing with them. Y/N taught Matt the proper way to hold and pet kittens, and he was soon having as much fun as she was.

"I never want to leave again." Matt suddenly commented as, sitting side by side on the fluffy rug, they watched a group of kittens playing with a fur ball. "I understand why you love coming here every week."

"It's a special place, with special cats... You know, I'm really glad you're here with me today." Y/N smiled, lifting her head slightly to look at him better, feeling her heart warm when she realized that Matt was just as involved in the activity as she was.

"I'm glad too."

At the end of the day, as they were about to leave, Matt suddenly stopped, looking at a cat in one of the cages. It was an orange cat with bright blue eyes that stared back at him curiously.

"Wow, he is perfect." Matt whispered, slowly approaching the cage. "He seems so friendly."

"You like him, don't you?" Y/N smiled, following him towards the feline, noticing the immediate connection between Matt and the cat.

"Yeah, I really do." Matt nodded, his eyes shining with determination. "What do you think about having a cat?"

Y/N felt a wave of emotion and happiness wash over her when she heard him, taking a few seconds to process if she was creating things in her head, realizing she wasn't when she noticed Matt looking at her with expecting eyes.

"Oh my God, really?" Her voice came out louder than expected, slightly scaring the kitten. "Oops, I'm sorry, little kitten."

With beaming smiles and clasped hands, they went to the kennel staff to begin the adoption process. While Y/N filled out the forms, Matt kept his eyes fixed on the cat lovingly, imagining their days with the new addition.

"What will be his name, my love?" His girlfriend's voice sounded behind him, breaking him out of his reverie. Matt shook his head slightly, focusing his attention on Y/N again, an easy smile stretching across his face.

"Snuggles. His name will be Snuggles."

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And remember to treat people with kindness always!

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lissilvsrev · 21 days

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Heyy, i already made a request abt a Aonung x Albino Navi/Navi from a cold region and u wanted that the request were more specific so im just going to give u more ideas:

Like i was thinking the reader is like a messenger (i think that its the word) from her clan for the exchange of materials between the two clans, so Aonung and the reader saw eachother before and it was like love at first sight (u can change this if u want tho but i imagine like aonung felt so attracted to them bcs it was like something new to him and he was curious 😭💕) so when they finally talk they pass a lot of time together learning about each other and their clans

And idk if u wanna write this but i also imagine like when Aonung try to court reader probably Ronal would be a bit against that cuz the reader definitely doenst look like any other navi and also they are from a very different place and she wants someone good for her son and the clan, but this its optional tho 💕

FRIENDS DON'T ;; AO'NUNG

summary ;; maybe only three days of five at your side were enough to gather courage.

pairing ;; ao'nung x fem!albino!cold-region!na'vi! reader

warnings ;; none

word of the day ;; herwì [ˈhɛɾ.wɪ] n. snow

first a/n ;; i really like the idea because it kinda remind be of that movie of tinker bell ?? anyways, i tried my best !! hope to get your expectations ¡!

As the rain came down hard you couldn't help but give a yawn at the horizon. The afternoon had passed too quickly for your liking and, having arrived at Awa'atlu and set things up for the next few days, there wasn't much to do anymore. You began to count down the times for tomorrow, where you should first talk to the younger ones, or perhaps the boys your age, so that they would learn how to conserve the medicinal flora.

"I thought you preferred to hide" the voice of that boy made you smile and you denied.

"Only when the sun comes up."

You had met Ao'nung maybe seven years ago, the first time your parents allowed you to accompany them. It was a cold winter, before humans could approach the snowy mountains of your clan where at present, they were already settling. You remembered how you had run your hands through the water, excited to smell new scents and meet new people. You remembered the warmth inside your big coat that tried to cover you and also, of course, you remembered the faces of those who welcomed you to their lands.

"She is our daughter, we hope that in the future she will be the designated messenger for these islands, Tonowari" your father spoke, extending his pale hand to yours which despite being covered, was the same shade. Looking up you bumped into the one who was the chief, with his partner and hidden behind the Tsahìk were their eldest son and the youngest daughter.

You didn't really like it when your parents introduced you to other clans in the mountains. Not only because they might see you as weak or clumsy due to your moon-shiny skin, but also because they often wanted to get their hands on the 'gift of Eywa'. However, from Ronal's gaze you immediately picked up that your physique was not something that caught her attention in the least and even, she seemed to disown it, looking at you with disdain when she passed by you those five days you stayed as a young na'vi.

"The previous winter you didn't come. I thought--we thought you wouldn't come this time" the boy corrected himself ominously, positioning himself to one side of you, feeling how the rain was gradually lowering its intensity.

"You missed me?" by the way he looked at you, you noticed he was surprised by your comment, but when you laughed he could only roll his eyes.

"Please, you?" he grumbled, smiling. "You people teach slow, that's all. I had a hard time understanding them. I needed my designated teacher" he gave a false explanation to which you added other words with derision.

"Or maybe we are too fast for you" you started to walk back to the marui, but he took your hand. It felt warm, unlike yours which was always cold.

"Where are you going, are you planning to hide?"

"Show, actually."

...

Ao'nung wasn't an idiot. He knew that since the first winter his feelings for you had begun to blossom, ironic as it seemed. Though there was always something that made him recoil when he sought to express himself to you. Perhaps the idea that by having a beauty beyond perfection -according to him- you would be paired with someone from the snowy mountains, maybe because he belonged to the water and you to the snow or simply, the voice of his mother and friends was stuck deep in his mind and heart. But there was always something that stopped him from showing you his true personality.

His sister called him childish, but for him there was no other way to express himself to you. Give you a necklace? Not at all, he'd rather you find it and he'd just tell you that when you found it it was yours. Express directly how he wanted to court you? Those words would never come out of his lips.

"Why are we here?" he asked, escorting you to the marui where there were some furs.

"You told me my people teach too slow, so I'll teach you from now on" you shrugged to the side and began to speak.

But while, your voice was calm when you spoke and it was one of the things he admired most about you, he couldn't help but notice your braids, adorned with brown feathers that highlighted your colorless hair. You pointed and traced with your pale fingers the animal skins you brought from your lands, but now he looked at your eyes, similar to his, blue, no, yours were the color of the water between his hands, light blue.

"…Over there they don't grow, but here they do, so with them you can adjust them and they will remain as the drums for the return of the tulkun" you finished explaining.

The rain had returned and with your poor vision, you could only see things sharply from up close. You wondered if it was his hair, maybe his eyes, but something made you notice that the boy's presence was much closer than before.

"You understood, didn't you?" you preferred to believe it was just your condition about bad view and noticed that the boy nodded. "Well, would you rather I talk to you now about-?" but he interrupted you.

"Customs. Tell me about the customs of your clan" you blinked a couple of times and cocked your head.

Customs? It wasn't necessary. Nothing had to do with them in that winter's delivery.

"What, did I speak like an animal? Come on, tell me" at his insistence, you had no choice but to explain.

First you named the ways of hunting you had, explaining with a smile how unlike the forests, there were animals with thicker skin and even fur, so they were used for clothing, especially for you or your parents, who had to take more care of their skin.

Then you talked about the artistic expressions, showing him the designs of the baskets, then telling him about the tattoos of his clan, comparing them to the face paintings in your clan. You continued to explain to him for so long that the freedom felt incredible, at least until your mother walked in, surprised.

"Oh, it's time for dinner" she reported, putting on her best smile.

As you both made your way to the place, the boy couldn't help but notice that you were attentive to everything around you and whispered, behind your mother's back.

"If you want, tomorrow I can show you a couple of things about my clan" and your smile was enough to make his heart pound, almost silencing the insecurities deep inside his body.

...

"It's not funny!" you spoke once you surfaced, having been knocked down by the ilu you had tried to hold on to and which, because of your nerves, shot out. Ao'nung's laughter was impossible to mistake and that alone made you give a grunt as you returned to his side.

"You said it was like going fishing, but you don't look to me like your fish are the size of an ilu" he put a hand on his waist, amused and quieting his laughter little by little.

"Apparently you listen to my words, huh" you folded your arms.

The day was for Ao'nung to allow himself to show you around and explain his clan to you every time you finished teaching your classes to his people. This he told his parents and, Tonowari, happy to see that his son at least once in his life was doing something for pleasure and not by command, decided to assign him that task. Besides, soon both he and you would be village chiefs and this tradition would have to continue for several generations so that the exchange of goods would be normalized.

Now, his mother was more… careful with the change in the boy's personality, after all, she was his mother, especially when she heard her son's arrival so late after the first day. Then the second.

By the third day, the two were debating methods of courtship.

"Competitions? Really?" he questioned when he came in from the hunt to your marui. You nodded.

"For example, if you have three suitors, they must face various tests. Sled races, fire dancing, there are several" you listed. "My favorite is the Säwem!"

"Säwem? Like… Fighting?" he grimaced in confusion, but you could tell how interested he was.

"Not with each other, of course. But with yourself." you clarified. "Do you consider yourself good for that person? How would you rate your efforts? How far would you go for that person? It can be internal or external factors, and you can also struggle with it spiritually or physically."

You continued with the explanation and Ao'nung felt a pain in his chest as his mouth went dry. What he felt could be a form of courtship? He even found it funny.

"…My father once stayed under a blizzard to try on mom" you recalled, laughing. "I mean, they were paired up, but still, he wanted to prove to her that he was worthy."

He wanted to consider himself worthy. Him. Just him. He didn't want someone else from your clan to try any of those things. He didn't want to know that other boys were fighting over you, even if it was at races or dances. He wanted to-

"I would do that for you" his words came out matter-of-factly. You were surprised, but his own face showed you that he was much more shocked to say it out loud.

You looked away and felt your cheeks blush a little. You felt annoyed that your own skin could give you away so easily. "Friends don't need that kind of courtship" you tried to push the idea away, embarrassed, but right now, the boy had already screwed up and there was no way to take it back.

"No, friends don't" he acknowledged, moving a little closer to you. "Friends don't" he arranged one of your albino braids carefully and looked at you. He wasn't the Ao'nung that teased you as a child. He wasn't the boy who stuck his tongue out at you, hiding behind his mother. He wasn't the one who laughed at you with his friends.. It was Ao'nung. Your Ao'nung…. "May I-" but you didn't give him time until you moved closer and kissed the corner of his lips.

You both looked at each other for a while and your cheeks were already between a very strong purple and pink.

"Sorry. I forgot my vision wasn't the best. I wanted to kiss your lips" you admitted, covering your mouth with one of your hands.

He pushes your hand away with his, laughing, and intertwines your fingers. His laughter surrounded you and so did his arms.

For him, 'Moon skin' as his mother used to say with unpleasant voice matched perfectly.

a/n ;; I REALLY WANTED TO WRITE ABOUT RONAL BUT I THOUGHT THAT JUST LIKE THIS IT WAS PERFECT BECAUSE THEY ARE HAPPY OKAY IM SRRY 😭😭😭😭ALSO, I INVENTED SO MANY THINGS??? james cameron squirms on the set of Avatar 3 istg i was listening to "calling after me" by wallows while i was writing this btw

#aonung x reader #aonung x you #aonung x y/n #avatar x reader #atwow #avatar fanfiction #avatar 2022 #avatar 2 #avatar #avatar way of water #avatar x reader fluff #avatar x y/n #avatar x you #aonung avatar #ao'nung x reader #aonung x female reader #aonung x albino reader #aonung x na'vi reader

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topgun-imagines · 2 years

Text

You’re Beautiful

Requested: yes

Summary: Maverick is there to pick you up when you become insecure about how you look.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Insecurity. Self-doubt. Allusions to smut. Slight angst.

Pairings: Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x fem!reader

The sun was barely above the horizon when Maverick slipped out of bed with you. A few days ago, you landed in Miramar along with Carole and Bradley, ready to spend the next few weeks with your boyfriend.

Maverick had to be in class early today. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before he got dressed. A subtle smirk was on his face when he saw the clothes strewn around the room. The pair of you had stumbled home after leaving the O club, ending the night in a tangled mess of limbs and sheets. Once he was dressed, the pilot made his way out to his bike, starting it before peeling away.

You woke up a few hours later. It was around 7 O’clock when you rolled over with a yawn. The bed was empty, something that you had grown used to with Maverick’s job. You sat up and grinned at the memory of last night. It was rare that you and Maverick got time alone that wasn’t cramped in between different events. With how often your boyfriend pissed off his superiors, it seemed he was always on base, making up for some stunt he pulled. Last night was the first time in a long time that you and Maverick were able to be together without cramming into some storage closet or a dingy bar bathroom.

When you got out of bed, you immediately headed to the washroom. A soft smile crossed your face when you noticed the note on the mirror. It was one of Maverick’s favorite things to do, leaving you little notes for you to find throughout your day, reminding you how much he loved you.

Plucking the note from the mirror, you were met with the sight of your disheveled hair and heavily marked skin. A small smile grew on your lips when you saw the marks that Maverick had left, pleasant reminders of the night before. That smile faded, however, when your eyes wandered around the rest of your body.

You had struggled with your self-love for a while now, and while Maverick didn’t know, he was a huge part of making you feel much better. Just like everyone else though, you had days where even your favorite person couldn’t cheer you up. You could already tell that today was going to be one of those days.

Your reflection stared back at you, face as blank and numb as you felt. You lost track of time while you criticized yourself in the mirror, noticing every flaw that you had tried so hard to overlook. It was like they all came rushing to the surface, each one bombarding you with negative thoughts. Eventually, your eyes zeroed in on the parts that you hated the most.

Your thighs. They were too thick. There was no gap between them. Your smile. It looked fake almost a hundred percent of the time and your teeth weren’t the straightest. Your eyes. They were dull in your opinion, a dreary color that rarely showed your true emotions. Your voice. You thought it sounded scratchy and false. Your laugh was a terrible thing as well. These were just some of the things that you found most unappealing about yourself. Maverick deserved better than this.

Before you realized it, tears were running down your cheeks. With one last hateful look at your reflection, you retreated back into the bedroom. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you curled up under the covers. Your tears kept falling, soaking the comforter and sheets before you finally dozed off again. The rest of your day was spent with you curled up on the bed while you slept, tears finally drying a few hours later.

When Maverick returned home, he was expecting to hear you singing softly in the kitchen as you cooked or find you sitting on the couch with your favorite book. His eyebrows furrowed when he saw no sign of you. The rational part of his brain tried to convince him that you had just gone shopping. That thought was quickly disputed when he found no note on the kitchen table, something that you always made sure to do even if you were just stepping out for a few minutes.

He cautiously made his way through the house, checking every room for a sign of you. When he reached the bedroom he pushed the door open softly to be met with the sight of bunched-up covers and a large ball laying on his side of the bed. He sighed quietly and moved towards the bed with soft steps. If he was right and it was you curled up under the covers, he didn’t want to scare you even more than you already were.

Maverick sat down on the edge of the bed and gently laid his hand on top of you.

You had heard the sound of his bike before he had even pulled up to the house. It had caused you to jolt awake leading to where you were now, buried under the covers while Maverick sat above you with a worried look on his face. “Baby?” It was a quiet whisper, meant to soothe you and put you at ease. He had always been good at that, knowing just what to say to make you feel comfortable.

A soft sniffle is what finally caused Maverick to pull the covers back. Underneath, he found exactly what he was expecting. Your eyes and cheeks were puffy and red and he could clearly make out the tear tracks running down them. He cooed softly and pulled you up and into his arms. His hand came up to cradle the back of your head as you buried your face in his neck. More tears started falling the longer you were wrapped in his arms.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Maverick was quiet as he asked you, careful to gauge your reaction as he spoke. You shook your head. You didn’t want to put any of your issues onto Maverick. He had his own things to worry about. He didn’t need yours too.

The pilot didn’t push you, rocking you back and forth as he waited for your tears to die down. When your cries had finally subsided he tried again. This time you sniffled quietly. You mumbled a response into his chest, so quiet that it was inaudible. He furrowed his eyebrows and asked you to repeat yourself. Hesitantly, you lifted your head to face him.

He could tell that you were reluctant to tell him but he waited nonetheless. “I just,” You started quietly. Maverick watched as you brought a hand up to fiddle with his dog tags. Something that you only did when you were extremely nervous. “There’s just things about me that I don’t like Mav. You don’t need to worry. I’ll be fine.” His expression dropped.

Out of all the things that he had been anticipating you saying, that was the one thing he didn’t think he would hear. He constantly told you how much he loved you and everything about you. Did you not believe him?

His arms tightened around you as he pressed his lips to your hair. “Can you tell me what they are?” When you hesitated he continued. “Please?” The look in his eyes was one that you could never resist.

With a shaky sigh, you began listing everything that you had seen this morning. When you were done you looked up to see Maverick’s expression. Your usually strong pilot, who refused to cry in front of anyone, was sitting in front of you with tears almost leaking onto his cheeks. You gasped quietly and brought your hand up to brush them away. He grabbed your hand in his before bringing them down to rest in your lap.

“You listen to me, baby,” You could hear the slight wobble in his voice causing your heart to clench. “I love everything about you. I love your smile. It’s my favourite thing to come home to, every day I can’t wait to come home and see that gorgeous smile of yours,” More tears were gathering on your lashes as he kissed the corner of your lips. “I love your eyes. They’re my home, baby. Your beautiful eyes are what ground me and calm me after crappy days,” He kissed the corner of your eye just as a tear escaped. “And your thighs,” Maverick trailed off as he laid you back on the bed before sliding down your body. His hand rested on your thighs. “I love your thighs so much, baby girl. I love putting marks on them that only you and I get to see.” He grinned when a small smile and a blush grew on your face. Playful bites and sweet kisses were pressed to them before he climbed back up.

Maverick was now face to face with you, his bright eyes watching you with a soft look. His next statement was a gentle whisper as he shared a loving smile with you. “And I love your voice. That beautiful laugh that I get to hear every day. The voice that tells me that you love me every single night. If there was only one thing I could hear for the rest of my life it would be your voice, beautiful.”

One last gentle kiss was pressed to your lips. When Maverick pulled back he was met with your smiling face. “You’re beautiful, baby.” It was no louder than a whisper but you heard it perfectly clear. A small, shy smile bloomed on your face. In his eyes, you were the most beautiful thing in the world. And he would make sure to tell you that for the rest of your life.

a/n: This is my first Maverick fic, hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading! Requests are open.

#pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell #pete mitchell x reader #maverick x reader #Maverick #Pete mitchell fic #maverick fluff #Maverick angst #maverick top gun #tgog #top gun 1986 #top gun fluff #top gun x female reader #maverick fanfic #pete mitchell fanfiction #mav #top gun

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hellraisered · 2 years

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hell priest (pinhead) / reader || administering your testosterone shot

"I insist that you still yourself," he says, needle in hand. "- unless you would like this to hurt more than necessary. As much as I savour your perturbation, I had assumed you wanted this to be an effortless process. Hence why you requested my assistance to begin with."

His fingers are cold on your thigh, though not unpleasant, as they search for a suitable spot for the injection.

Though the Priest's presence mitigated most of your discomfort, it did not eliminate all your nerves, evident in the way you twitched at any contact, and the sense of unease stuck between your lungs. You weren't ungrateful for his help, but you occasionally wished he could be even a little more adept at comforting you.

"I'm trying. Just - be careful, okay?" Your fingers dig into the cushioning beneath you, desperate to achieve a comforting, yet false sense of stability.

"I wasn't aware you worried over my heedlessness, so." The tone he uses barely registers as sarcastic, the slight quirk of his brow doing more to convey his meaning than flat baritone ever could.

"You could work on your bedside manner, you know." Your lips are turned downward and pressed together, half teasing, half displeased.

"If you wanted assistance from someone with a distinctly comforting deportment, it would have been in your best interest to approach someone else.”

And even now, as you nervously wait for the Priest to finish preparing your dosage, you see that he moves with a distinct sense of refinement. His stellar propriety seemed to bleed into everything he did.

"Just remember, you're giving me an injection — not a piercing. Would hate for you to mix the two up."

He briefly shoots you what you think might be a half-hearted glower - it was often hard to tell, considering how many of his emotions looked the same on pretty, yet inscrutable features. Eyes of pitch return to inspect the needle, now full.

"As much as I'm appreciative of the reminder, I assure you, I am well aware."

A beat.

Your stomach churns unpleasantly.

"The suspense is going to make me throw up."

"Then I ask that you graciously turn your head away from me."

Not given the opportunity to reply, you feel a sharp prick on your leg, and next, the ensuing soreness. A weak simper of pain escapes you, and with a shaky exhale, you release the breath you were holding.

The Priest's thumb strokes at the injection site, smearing a small amount of blood around the sore spot.

"Curious, how that was daunting for you." He sets the needle aside, watching with a lukewarm inquisitiveness as you inspect your minuscule wound with cautious intrigue. "I find such minute aches and afflictions to be mere frippery."

"That's why we're different people. You have your passions, I have mine. Cleave as much skin off your body as you want; mine is staying comfortably situated where it belongs."

"A tolerance for pain can be built," he says, dragging a finger down to the now-bruising point on your thigh once more. It clotted quickly, and he had done a good job. "Your percipience of the pleasures of torturous experience could still be on the horizon."

"You're not doing much in the way of convincing."

"Not yet, leastwise."

You raise an eyebrow at that. He looks a little too self-assured for your liking.

"You're giving me half a mind to sleep with one eye open."

"The other half reveling in my illimitable charm, no doubt."

#pinhead #pinhead x reader #hellraiser #hell priest / elliot spencer #hello transgender nation.

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shyvioletcat · 1 year

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The Calling - Chapter Seven

I was determined to make sure this wasn’t and annual update and look at that! made it by a couple of weeks! This has been sitting around almost finished for far too long soooo may not be edited to perfection because I got a little bit excited about posting. Please enjoy.

~ The Calling Masterlist ~

~~~~~

It had been a week of living as a newly married couple and Aelin was nearly bored out of her mind. She was reaping none of the rewards that would usually come from such an arrangement, and any kind of pleasurable benefits were on the horizon. Instead all Aelin got was brooding silence and sulking looks from Rowan. It seemed her new husband was not keen to leave the apartment beyond what was necessary, and according to him that wasn’t much. Since that first night they hadn’t eaten with his crew again and had eaten all their meals in here. She assumed it was because he wanted to avoid more questions about their situation.

It had worked to an extent, they’d had no visitors or enquiries, Luca had brought up dinner every night which Rowan had accepted with a curt thanks.

All Aelin had been doing was working her way through the books her dull false husband had in his rooms and eating whatever he brought home. She had even lost interest in provoking the man because he had worked very hard to ignore her. It wasn’t due to her lack of trying though, she had tried many ways to get his attention just to start a conversation. If that conversation led to an argument, then so be it. Just as long as Aelin had something to do. By far the easiest was by appealing to his male sensibilities. She’d walked around in nothing but a stolen shirt or the thin shift that made up the under layer of her day time clothing. That had been enough to turn Rowan’s head before he quickly turned away, although she had caught him sneaking glances when he thought she wasn’t looking. It was enough to make Aelin smile but not much more than that.

She barely bothered with the clothes she had. What he had purchased for her was so… matronly. Aelin had little pleasure in such things, they itched and scratched at her neck. The hideous items of clothing were in danger of being fed to the fireplace just so Aelin wouldn’t have to look at them.

They had only been back down to the beach once, and that was yesterday to fulfil her part of the bargain. There hadn’t been as many treasures this time, but still enough to satisfy the promise she’d made. That had led to the odd change in routine today. Rowan had laid out the bounty of the day, barely acknowledging Aelin as he did it. It was most just pearls now, they might have to wait for another storm to bring good fortune their way on the swells and tides. He picked out the nicer lot, brushing the rest to the side to give to Fenrys to do with what he would.

“I’ll be heading to the next town over,” Rowan all but declared. “The local traders might become suspicious with the frequency at which I’m bringing things.”

“I suppose requesting I accompany you would be a fruitless argument,” Aelin said, playing with the top button of Rowan’s shirt. As she knew it would, the small movement caught his eye and as equally expected his eyes darted away quickly.

“You would suppose right,” he replied curtly.

Aelin sighed, and it wasn’t purely for dramatics. She was genuinely disappointed that Rowan would prevent her from going. The fight wouldn’t be worth it, and in a new town she would be reliant on him so really when it came down to it it might be better for her to stay here and entertain herself.

Rowan was looking at her expectantly, like he was waiting for her protest. Aelin was busy thinking of other ways to provoke him with the little time left she had with him this morning when there was a knock on the door. Rowan’s brows furrowed, obviously not expecting a visitor.

“Don’t look at me,” Aelin said as she stepped away from the table. “I have no acquaintance besides Fenrys to invite over, and he doesn’t knock.”

The knocking started again and the man in front of her nearly growled on his way to the door. Rowan kept the door shut enough that Aelin couldn’t see who was out there on the landing of the back entrance, but she heard murmurs of a low, male voice. A few curious steps back allowed her to see a head of dark hair and a glimpse of a scowling face. It was the glowering brute then, the one who looked at her with suspicion whenever she entered the room. He gave her such a look now over Rowan’s shoulder. Her husband saw it too, and quickly ushered his friend backwards so that he could step outside.

The door clicked shut, a barrier between the words spoken beyond. Aelin had her own suspicions that she was the topic of conversation, and creature of the sea or human, that invoked impoliteness. That would not do, and on light feet Aelin crept towards the door.

~~~~~

Rowan shut the wooden door so he could talk to Lorcan more privately. He was pissed and suspicious, and rightly so. Lorcan had known Rowan the longest and knew all his history. The apparent marriage to Aelin made no sense and it seemed that Lorcan was ready to confront him about it.

“I’m just failing to understand this, Whitethorn,” Lorcan said, his body full of tension. “You never mention this girl, you give us no hints that you’re courting anyone. Then one day you have a wife, as if washed up by the very waves themselves.”

Lorcan didn’t know how right he was, it took a lot for Rowan to hide his humourless laugh at those words. His captain was not necessarily a friendly man, but he was one of the few Rowan would claim to be a friend. Rowan tried to use his stance to dissuade Lorcan, leaning casually on the railing and crossing his arms. He shrugged his shoulder like he was unconcerned by the whole thing.

“She’s here now, isn’t that enough?” Rowan said.

“Not without some explanation, no,” Lorcan pressed. “I don’t trust this, or her.”

Although Rowan felt very much the same, he wasn’t to admit it and have this whole farce fall apart.

“What kind of trouble did you get into in Rifthold?” It seemed Lorcan would be relentless in his quest for answers. Rowan was so concerned with construing a plausible story in line with what they had concocted at dinner that he almost missed the next questions that Lorcan threw at him. “Did you get her pregnant? Is she a prostitute?”

“What?” Rowan spluttered, pushing off the railing. “No, she’s not pregnant.”

That last comment came out in a hiss. It repulsed Rowan to even think about such a thing, he would never find himself in such a position that would eventuate to that outcome. The siren was an inhuman creature, a killer by nature. He wouldn’t be surprised if she would be inclined to eat her young.

“I would understand…” Lorcan paused, considering his words, “if she was carrying you child, especially considering—“

“Enough of this, I have to leave and this pointless conversation is wasting my time,” Rowan said, unprepared for the anger on Lorcan’s face. The bastard had no right to be angry if he chose to start down that path. “Accept this for what it is or leave us be.”

And hopefully soon enough Aelin would crawl back into the sea and be gone from his life forever.

“Fine, just don’t come crying to me when this falls apart,” Lorcan said, adopting an air of indifference.

His captain didn’t bother saying goodbye, Lorcan just stamped down the wooden stairs and left Rowan on the landing. Rowan took a moment to try and even out his emotions realising that a day away from this gods-forsaken apartment would be good for him. The horse Emrys kept for hire was in the stables waiting for him, all he needed was his bounty and he could be on his way. With renewed dedication to his task Rowan opened the door and failed to hide his surprise when he found Aelin standing just inside, still only dressed in one of his shirts—unfortunately his favourite.

“Don’t rally to my defence, you might strain yourself,” she said coolly.

“What are you on about?” Rowan asked as he made his way over to the table.

“Your friend,” her distasteful tone was enough to convey how she felt about Lorcan, “had some very interesting accusations. I heard you only deny the one.”

Rowan stopped and turned slowly. “You heard all that?”

“Every word,” Aelin said with a saccharine smile.

It was true, Rowan had only denied that the siren wasn’t carrying his child. And the other…

“I personally hold nothing against prostitutes, if chosen it might as well be just another profession,” Aelin explained, resituating herself on the bed. “But it certainly didn’t sound as if your friend felt the same way.”

Rowan flushed, from anger and possibly embarrassment that Lorcan was now assuming who he had been ensnared by. Aelin grinned, no doubt noticing his embarrassment and most likely feeding off in some monstrous way. He had no patience for her games.

“I’m leaving,” Rowan scooped up the pearls from the table. “I’ll be back by this evening.”

He didn’t bother with any other farewell, he barely gave the god-damned creature lounging on his bed like she owned it a second glance. All Rowan did was shut the door behind him and revel in the glorious quiet he found himself in because he knew it wouldn’t last.

~~~~~

It did not take Aelin long to decide that she truly was bored out of her mind. All Rowan had done was give a curt farewell and left her alone in the apartment, with nothing to do or distract herself with.

That had been at least two hours ago and Aelin had kept herself busy by tidying up and eating what she could find. But soon enough the silence was deafening and she wanted out. Fenrys might be an option, he’d be more than enough entertainment for her. With a resigned sigh, Aelin went to the chair where her clothes were kept. She hadn’t bothered to ask for a drawer, and her more delicate items were in the luggage bag that had been carried off the ship so as to not offend her poor husband’s sensitivities. She sifted through a few items she had to go and see the man she could most likely call a friend with a little more time together. Then she realised maybe that was not the itch she wanted to scratch.

The only exploring Aelin had done was along the beach and the inside of the apartment. The town yet to be discovered and with her overbearing watchman away this would be her chance.

Pleased with her new direction, Aelin dressed in one of her skirts and a blouse, then pulled on her socks and boots. She pulled at the high collar, feeling as though it was choking her, cursing Rowan and his lack of sense when it came to women's clothing. This adventure was a necessity. The stitching Fenrys had done was already coming loose, she could barely breathe in the blouses she owned. It was a good thing that Aelin was an observant creature and noticed where Rowan kept the money that came from the treasure hunting.

Aelin went to the kitchen and reached above the simple basin to a shelf. She pulled down an earthenware jar with a lid. Lifting the lid she found a collection of coins in a variety of sizes. This was money she hadn’t seen before, and Aelin hoped it followed the usual system of worth by size otherwise she may be in for some embarrassment later. Although it would be easy enough to offer a few smiles and pleading looks and she would have all the help she would need. In one of the larger kitchen cupboards she found a fair sized basket that she hung on her elbow. Aelin gathered she was presentable enough for a little exploring.

The market street of town was easy enough to find. Many of the stone buildings held stores and their front windows showed displays of wares. And then there were the stalls congregated around a main square, the cobblestones a deep grey under the feet of the townsfolk. Aelin looked around, smiling, there were so many people bustling around. She just liked to watch them go about their lives, so simple and present in their own little worlds. It held its own kind of beauty.

Aelin joined them, moving from stall to stall, glancing and the goods on sale. There was food and all kinds of produce, trinkets and necessities for the people who lived off the sea. She paused at an array of fruit, her eyes catching on some red winter plums. They looked delicious, and Aelin paused to look at them closer. She was in the process of trying to count out her coins according to the sign when a large presence appeared beside her. She had a suspicion of who it might be, a cursory sideways glance confirmed it. The sullen behemoth her husband called a friend stood beside there, peering over Aelin’s shoulder.

“It’s these,” be said gruffly, sorting the coins in Aelin’s hand and then handed them to the stall keeper.

Aelin put the chosen plums in her basket. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Lorcan said in a no less polite manner.

When he made no move to leave Aelin looked up at his face. He was scowling, an expression that obscured what might be a handsome face. It was too hard to tell with brows lowered and jaw clenched, setting his stony features. Aelin knew that his mind was playing over what he had confronted Rowan with this morning, no doubt why he approached her now in the market.

“Is there something you wish to ask me, Lorcan?” She asked sweetly.

His jaw worked tighter and the sounds of the market surrounded them while the dark-haired man remained silent. Aelin waited, seeing if he had the bravery to ask her anything.

“Well, if you have nothing to discuss I’d rather not have my day held up any longer,” she said, not finding any reason to linger further. She stepped away from the stall so that other customers could approach if they wished.

“What is it that you plan to do with your time, now that you’re here?”

Lorcan had followed her and she led him a little further to keep them from holding up the flow of people in the market. It also kept Aelin’s smile hidden while she contemplated her answer. This could provide some fleeting entertainment in her hours of boredom.

“Now that my husband had made an honest woman out of me,” Aelin accentuated her words with a coy smile, “I do plan to do some honest work.”

Lorcan scrutinised her with his dark eyes, catching exactly what she was insinuating. “Honest work? What… what is it that you did before?”

“Oh, this and that,” Aelin supplied. “It’s not hard for a pretty girl to find work in Rifthold.”

The lie hit its mark, she could see it in the way shock and realisation lit up his features.

“It’s surprising what a few easy smiles can accomplish. Although, I enjoy finding myself occupied by a…” Aelin sent a smirk Lorcan’s way, “singular distraction nowadays.”

“Distraction,” he repeated, his voice low and bitter.

Aelin hummed. “Yes, you interrupted me while shopping for supper. Rowan does appreciate my skills.”

Lorcan cleared his throat. “I’ve held you up long enough. Good day.”

He left with an abrupt nod and didn’t wait for her to bid him farewell in turn. Aelin just laughed softly to herself and continued on her way. Knowing full well that she would be eating in Emrys’ dining hall this evening she simply perused lightly through the other fresh produce offerings. As what could be expected from a village adjoining the sea, the fish section of the market was extensive. Copious amounts of fish, crustaceans and inkfish were offered and bartered. Some stall vendors offered it cooked right there in the market. Aelin’s nose scrunched at the smell of it. She preferred her fish fresh and raw, ripping through it with her claws and pointed teeth. Uncivilised by human standards, but she wasn’t human was she?

Stalls gave way to store fronts and Aelin’s excitement heightened. Humans created such beautiful and pointless things, so much unnecessary adornments and beauty just for the sake of it. Aelin loved it, and it was what drew her to walk on two legs instead of swimming with her tail. She approached a store which would undoubtedly hold the most inessential items and was the main reason she had set out on her venture.

A large glass window displayed dresses, skirts, hats, and other things to be worn. Aelin took a moment to look before she headed for the door, a bell above it announcing her arrival as she stepped into the store. It was pleasantly warm inside, no doubt a ploy to lure people in from the cold outside. Aelin began browsing and she heard footfalls coming from behind.

“Can I help you?” An impassive voice said.

Aelin turned to who was undoubtedly the shopkeeper and was met with the sight of a stunning woman. She reminded Aelin of the frozen glaciers of the high northern waters. This woman was pale, her blonde hair a few shades shy of white with blue eyes the colour of a glacier's heart. And with the frigid way she looked at her newest customer, Aelin wondered if she might be just as cold.

“Just looking for the moment,” Aelin said.

The woman nodded but didn’t offer more than that. Promptly dismissed, Aelin went back to looking through the wares on offer. She found two more blouses for her wardrobe that would be less likely to itch than the ones her dear husband had bought her. The mending Fenrys did on her skirts would hold for now, because she had eyed something even more interesting.

There was a corner of the store that was partitioned off by a screen. That meant that the things behind it weren’t for all eyes to browse. Stepping beyond it Aelin grinned at the display before her. These were the more delicate items, nightwear and underthings, far prettier than the array Rowan had bought for her. She reached out and ran her fingers over silk and delicate lace. Some of these were beautiful, and Aelin always had an eye for beautiful things.

She grabbed a hanger, bringing out a creamy white lace nightgown to see better. It would sit off her shoulders and sit in the middle of her thigh. That smile on her face spread wider, this would be a wonderful addition to her wardrobe. Aelin draped that over her arm along with her other items she planned to purchase. It was impossible not to choose some other items from this area, and she had a nice collection starting when she approached the counter to pay.

The woman in charge of the store stood there and barely glanced up at Aelin while she laid out what she had chosen. Not willingly to lose the sale, the woman methodically folded up each piece of clothing and piled it up. When that was done she rattled off a total that Aelin didn’t comprehend.

“I have to beg your pardon, but I am unsure of what to use,” Aelin admitted, hoping that the woman had enough integrity not to take more than was the charge.

“Have you recently arrived?” The woman asked, curiosity coming through.

“Indeed I am,” Aelin said and then took the opportunity to extend her cover. “I’ve moved here to be with my husband. I’m still finding my feet.”

In more ways than one.

In what Aelin considered to be a rude gesture, the woman beckoned with hand. Aelin tipped the coins out, herding them across the counter. The right coins were divided out and when the shopkeep weren’t needed were pushed back. With payment sorted the woman folded up the clothes in brown paper and tied it with string.

“Here you go, have a nice day,” the woman said, sounding the politest she had throughout Aelin’s whole interaction with her store. She was probably glad to be on her own again.

Ignoring the entire strained interaction, Aelin took her parcels and left. Dark clouds had started to gather again, and the cloak she had brought with her wouldn’t offer much protection against the rain. She would go home, try on her new things and read another one of Rowan’s books. On her next adventure into town she might need to find the bookstore and find something more to her tastes. The rain began to fall as the boarding house came into sight. Aelin flicked her hood up and headed for the stairs of the private entrance. She twisted the door handle and pushed the door open with her shoulder. The fire had died and chill had crept into the room, making Aelin shiver. The bed seemed the best place to drop her things then she hung her cloak on the hook by the door.

Aelin stoked the fire, throwing a log onto the simmering flames. Delicious heat licked at her fingers and clothes, and she stood there to warm herself a little longer. She watched the embers glow, waiting until the log caught before she moved away. The blouse she wore almost ripped from how eagerly Aelin tore it from the body. She finally felt like she could breathe without the high neck scratching at her skin. On her way to the bed she picked out a book from Rowan’s dismally small bookshelf. Left in just her underthings after she had kicked off her skirt Aelin climbed onto the bed. There was still a while before dinner, she would read and then wait for her husband in the dining room, hoping he might like her new surprises.

~~~~~

The skies were pouring when Rowan rode into stables. He was soaked to the bone, but thankfully it had just kept to rain and not a storm. That would have caused him to have to stop for the night. With a siren in his quarters, that was something Rowan was not prepared to do. Left to herself, who knows the trouble she would get into. The stablehand that Emrys and Malakai employed ran out in the weather to tend to the horse, bringing the poor beast to a trot as he led it back into the stable.

If he predicted right, Rowan was in time for dinner. He would go to his room first, the back way, so as not to incur Emrys’ wrath by trudging mud and rain through the bunkhouse. His cloak was so soaked that he could feel the raindrops pelting onto his head and shoulders. The rains beckoned the start of the storm season. Rowan hoped it would be mild this year, but if his current luck was any indication his outlook was pointless.

The wooden stairs were slick, and in the dark they were precarious, and there was only a very dim light offered from his window. He expected to find the siren on his bed when he opened the door. Instead Rowan found a chilled room, the fire low, and no one in there but him. It frustrated him, and made him angry. Left alone Aelin was likely to create havoc. He tossed another heavy log on the fire, knowing it would catch slowly and he’d have a warm room to come back to once he tracked down the missing creature.

Rowan shivered, the cold seeping through the layers of his clothes. He started peeling them off, hanging them on the hooks on his walls. When he was down to his undershorts he crossed to his set of drawers and pulled out fresh clothes. That was when Rowan noticed what was laid out in his bed.

In the dim light the lace nearly glowed. He approached it cautiously, taking in the details. It looked like it was finely made and not something Rowan had purchased. It was obviously not for him, and he hadn’t the faintest idea why she had put it there. All new clothes were laid out over the back of his low couch like the siren had wanted to see everything she had in her possession before dressing for this evening. He connected the circumstances and while pulling on his pants we went to the kitchen and found the jar he was stashing his money. It was easy to see that money was missing. Throwing it against the wall was a temptation but Rowan refrained. Aelin was likely at dinner, and that would be the first place he looked for her. And then they might have a discussion over proper uses of his money.

Rowan finished dressing and used the hall door to take him down to dinner. He was nearly starving and the scents of Emrys’ cooking greeted him and he demented the stairs. The sight that greeted him nearly had him stumbling through the entryway, even though it was to be expected. Aelin sat at the table, holding court amongst his crew mates. Each of them looked enraptured and hung on her every work. All except Lorcan, he just scowled like he was impervious to her allure.

“And he lost the dog in the end,” the siren said. “Until it turned up on his doorstep the next day.”

There was a round of laughter, Rowan hadn’t heard the start of the story and thus didn’t understand the joke, so he didn’t join in. But it seemed that his silence drew her attention. Turquoise eyes landed on him, bright and full of mirth. Something shifted is those stunning eyes though, something that spelled out trouble for him.

“Rowan, you’re back,” Aelin said, sounding far too delighted.

“Come on, Rowan. Sit next to your wife.” Fenrys was moving before Rowan even had a chance to decline and insist that the seat next to Lorcan at the far end of the table would be fine. He had no choice, it would be odd for him to decline sitting next to his wife.

Rowan took the empty seat and Aelin just rubbed the salt in deeper by scooting her chair that much closer to him.

“How was your trip?” She asked sweetly.

Rowan just turned the question on her. “How was yours?”

Aelin grinned, knowing exactly what he was referring to. “Very rewarding.”

“Wish I could say the same.” Rowan’s jaw tightened as Aelin laughed at him.

“You’re just in time for dinner,” Aelin told him.

He hadn’t noticed, but all the plates were empty and there was no trace food except for the aroma coming from the kitchens.

Connall looked over, his face curious instead of troublesome like his brother’s. “What are your plans? Does the happy couple plan to live in the bunkhouse forever?”

Being called a happy couple was far from true and it grated on his already irritated nerves. Rowan didn’t have the chance to answer.

“I’m sure a little cottage might be nice, one day,” Aelin said. “Something secluded by the sea perhaps. But for now we’re content with our quarters.”

“They’re cramped even with one of us,” Vaughan added.

Aelin’s smile was anything but she. “Maybe we like it that way.”

The knowing murmur of laughter was not a balm to Rowan’s souring mood, nor was hearing his dream of a cottage by the sea being echoed from his false wife’s mouth. She was a means to an end, and he wished she would stop dragging him through this display. Believability be damned, Rowan was growing tired of this. Conversation was happening around him but he didn’t bother to pay attention until Aelin put a hand on his arm.

“If my husband was a real gentleman, he would have brought me home some flowers just to show how much he missed me.”

If possible Rowan tensed even further, and he felt a little bit of colour drain from his face. A quick glance around the table told him that his crewmates had noticed his discomfort and that was enough to draw Aelin’s attention. Much of her amusement was gone, but there was still a slight air of mocking about her, there always was. It was perpetually tiring.

“Dearest, are you all right?”

Rowan stood, the endearment the final straw in his patience. He needed to get out before he set fire to this entire deception and gleefully watched it burn.

Rowan stood without warning. “There’s some business I have in town.”

He didn’t bother with any further explanation or to gauge the reactions his announcement caused. Rowan just left the warmth and comfort of the boarding house, not bothering to stop by his room for a cloak, and headed towards the beckoning lights of the town. A tavern might be bustling and loud, but even then, a meal there by himself might offer him some peace. Depending how how long his wife chose to stay, Rowan suspected this course of action might become a habit.

~~~~~

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#the calling #rowaelin fanfiction #and yes you can expect another update for mermay

37 notes · View notes

xzho-writes · 2 years

Text

put your head on my shoulder

pairings: diluc, zhongli, kaeya, itto, thoma x gn!reader

genre: fluff

summary: small scenarios about resting w/ the genshin boys (unestablished relationship)

wc: 700+

warnings: none!

extra notes: hold me in your arms, baby~ (someone pls tell me they get the song reference-) i’m thinking of making a second part where i expand and turn the scenarios into small fics :)

you can find my masterlist here

diluc

imagine resting on him under the great tree at windrise at the end of a paired patrol one night. thanks to your insistence, the winery owner begrudgingly accepted your request. sleep overtakes you as you sit beside him and the poor man freezes when he feels a weight on his shoulder, slowly tilting his head to look at you.

adorable, he thinks. so adorable that it makes his heart squeeze in a way he’s never experienced before, and butterflies begin to flutter around in his stomach. after a long moment of contemplation he silently shrugs off his large coat and drapes it around your shoulders. not too long after, diluc places his cheek on top of your head, snoozing off with you. you seem content with the new warmth, huddling closer to the man who held your heart even if he didn’t know that yet.

(more utc!)

zhongli

the two of you were out for the whole day after he promised to help you with your commissions as repayment for all the money you’ve lent him. you shook your head in disagreement, telling him there was no need and that you just wanted him to remember his mora, but he was firm in his insistence.

night came sooner than expected and you were still a distance away from the familiar safety of liyue harbour. you were by wangshu inn, to be precise, but neither of you had the mora for a room. instead, zhongli found you both a relatively warm shelter under a tree and suggested sleeping there for the night. the ground was quite unforgiving, however, and soon you could feel yourself getting sore. noticing your discomfort from the hard ground, zhongli offered you his body. sturdy arms were held open invitingly, beckoning you to him.

kaeya

on his way back to his apartment after a long day at work you stumble across him and decide to make up for some lost time. you, yourself, had been busy at the guild and so you didn’t have as much time to spend with each other- much to both of your dismays. you decided that sitting by the lake outside the walls would be the best location to relax by.

kaeya passes out on you seeming to be asleep- but in reality he’s only pretending. it’s the only way he knows how to get closer to you without his false, flirty facade. you’ve rejected each one of his prior advances and it took quite the toll on his confidence. perhaps they truly feel nothing for me after all, he thought to himself dejectedly one day. so he took the cowards way out. if this was the closest he would get to you then so be it.

itto

it was raining by the time the pair of you decided to head back to hanamizaka. not wanting you to catch a cold (or perhaps more so to save his hair…), itto leads you to a nearby cave to take shelter. thunder claps in the distance and you startle, jumping at every boom in the sky.

a wave of understanding hits the oni suddenly as he clasps your smaller hand in his protectively, pulling you to his chest and making sure you felt as safe as possible. shuffling you so that you were basically using him as your makeshift bed, itto smoothed his hands up and down your back. his embrace was comforting and all-encompassing, and you dozed off feeling much safer.

thoma

whilst you loved your job as another estate keeper, days could really be tiring. you truly loved the people you worked with and the people you worked for but the job was quite physically exerting. nobody understood that better than thoma and so he grabbed ahold of your wrist and tugged you towards the nearby cliff.

the sun was just beginning to set beyond the horizon as you and thoma conversed for what seemed to be both an eternity and not enough time at all. though you were certain he’d never return your feelings, you couldn’t bear to be away from him and so you treasured tender moments between you. thoma turned to you after noticing the prolonged silence but was surprised to see you already fast asleep. shaking his head he carefully drew you in close enough to rest against his side, smiling to himself. he’d tell you how he feels one day.

published on 15/03/22

1K notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Hey I’m currently in a flare of basically all of my chronic illnesses all at once(it’s not fun) and I’m feeling pretty overwhelmed. Could I request some injury or sickness comfort? Thank you for all you do, Eve

Oh Lala I'm so sorry, that sounds horrendous. So much love and comfort coming your way. This was combined with a prompt about Jules feeling bad after losing a hockey game, as well as some for hurt/ comfort! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

TW for near hypothermia, falling through ice

Remus bounced a puck off the front of Jules’ skate. He didn’t even flinch. “Hey.”

Jules glanced up, shuffling forward to give it a halfhearted knock back to him. “Hey, yourself.”

“Come on, where’s that killer slapshot?” Remus said with as much encouragement as he could pack into his voice, skating in a slow circle around Jules. He gave him a light nudge, but didn’t get much more than a lean back. “I’m gonna take that thing right out from under you if you don’t get your butt in gear.”

Jules shrugged one shoulder; Remus heard the gentle shush of Sirius skating over from the shore of the frozen pond and prayed his presence would cheer Jules up a bit. Unfortunately, it seemed to do the opposite. “Since when are you two quiet?” Sirius teased. He reached out to ruffle Jules’ beanie, but he ducked away at the last second—the amusement on Sirius’ face faded to concern, and Remus silently shook his head when he looked over.

Alright, here we go, Remus thought as he crouched down to peek under the fringe of Jules’ hair, reaching out to give his wrist a squeeze. “It’s one game, bud,” he said quietly. “It sucks, but it happens. You played really, really well.”

“We lost,” Jules mumbled, kicking absently at the puck still between them.

“Yeah, like we’ve never lost a game,” Remus snorted, though he kept his thumb moving in steady circles over Jules’ wristbone beneath his glove. It was snowing just a little, coating the thick ice in a layer of white. He could feel a deep freeze on the horizon. “Jules?”

Hazel eyes met his own.

“I am so proud of you. That was a tough team, but you never gave up. You gave your best, and that’s all anyone can ask of you.”

Jules’ lower lip trembled and he sniffled, swiping his gloved hand under his nose. “I tried really hard,” he said, voice cracking. “It’s the last game before break ‘n’ you guys came out to see me an’ I just wanted to win.”

“I know, J,” he sighed, straightening just enough to pull him in for a hug and a kiss to the top of his head. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t still have fun, right? The game’s over. Don’t let it bug you. We’ve got a whole week here and one cruddy game isn’t going to ruin that.”

Jules sniffed again and moved his hands up to hold Remus’ back. “Re?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re it.”

Without giving Remus even half a second to process, Jules squirmed out of his hug and took off down the frozen shoreline as Sirius burst out laughing behind him. “You little shit!” Remus half-laughed as he raced after him. “Get back here!”

“Sirius, are you playing?” Jules shouted over his shoulder.

Remus turned on a dime and relished the scrape of his blades on real, fresh ice. He had been skating the pond since he could hold a stick—the familiar burn of the cold air on his face resonated deep in his stomach and made him feel about six years old again as he chased after Sirius.

“I guess I am, now!” Sirius laughed, dodging his first attempt at a tag only to stumble on a stray twig. “Fuck!”

“Language!” Remus and Jules reminded him in unison with matching grins. Remus smacked him on the back of the thighs with his stick and hurried in the other direction, snickering the whole way as Jules gave him a double high-five.

“Gotta get used to real ice, Mr. Basement Rink!” Remus teased. Sirius shook his head and subtly flipped him off before looping toward them in lazy swirls.

“What’s he doing?” Jules murmured out of the corner of his mouth.

Remus narrowed his eyes and bent his knees, preparing for a rapid exit. “Giving us a false sense of—no!”

Sometimes he forgot just how quick Sirius was on his skates, as well as the fact that he was internationally known for it; Remus just barely swerved out of reach as Sirius closed the distance between them fast enough to make Jules shriek and felt his pulse kick into double-time. “You scared me!” Jules called across the pond.

“Sorry!” Sirius plastered himself to Remus’ tail—with nobody else around to shake him off on, Remus bore down and kept his limbs in close, picking up as much speed as he could manage.

“This is—fuck me—favoritism!” Remus hissed, slipping past Sirius’ attempted tag with a yelp. “Go pick on Jules for once!”

Sirius righted himself just as Remus started moving toward the middle, making sure to keep away from the true center of the pond. The ice hadn’t failed him yet, but his parents’ warnings about weak spots were burnt in his memory. “You’re siccing me on your baby brother? Low blow!”

“Damn straight I—”

“Re?”

Remus stopped cold. All thoughts of their game left him in half a heartbeat at the sheer terror in Jules’ voice; he whipped around with frigid water in his veins.

Fifteen feet away, Jules stared back at him with his arms out for balance and his knees knocking together with the effort of staying perfectly still. Below him, a long crack in the ice spiderwebbed from the front of his skates. Desperation painted his pink cheeks as the haunting groan of breaking ice echoed over the clearing. “Re?” he said again, tears pooling in his eyes. “Remus, Remus, it’s—”

“It’s okay,” Remus interrupted, never taking his eyes off Jules for a second while he bent and began untying his skates. His blood thundered in his ears, along with ringing panic. “Stay right there, bud, you’re gonna be fine.”

Jules sucked in a shuddering breath and the tears spilled over, streaking down his face. But he stayed still. “Re, it’s breaking.”

“You’re okay,” Remus assured him, yanking his second boot off and standing with as much care as he could manage. He edged toward Jules, heart pounding in his ears. The ice was strong and dense along the shoreline where they had been playing, but sure enough, it popped beneath his tentative socked steps the closer he grew to his little brother.

Jules took in a few shallow, shaking breaths and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m scared,” he said thickly. “Re, I’m scared.”

“Open your—” The air left his lungs in a harsh exhale when his sock skidded and he heard a low crunch below. Easy does it, Loops. Don’t look down. Six feet. Six feet and he’ll be safe. He let the cold winter air fill his chest and ease his whirling thoughts. “Jules, open your eyes. Look at me.”

Jules’ lip quavered, but he did as he was told. Remus paused for a moment to make sure they held eye contact.

“I’m not going to let you fall,” he said, clear and steady despite the fear roiling in his gut. Some of the distilled panic in Jules’ expression faltered. “I want you to—be careful—I want you to hold the end of your stick really tight and then hold it out to me, alright? Can you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Jules sobbed. His skates shuffled and the ice crackled again, drawing a terrified whine from him.

“It’s okay,” Remus said quickly, chancing two hurried steps closer. The ice held and he swallowed hard. “I’m gonna come get you. You’ll still have to reach for me, though. Sirius?”

“I’m here.” His voice was closer than Remus had imagined in his head, low and monotone the way it always was when he was trying to conceal anxiety.

“Can I have your stick?”

One glance down told him the remaining five feet of ice would not hold his weight. It was a miracle it had maintained Jules and all his winter clothes that long. Cracks spread out like stained glass, their tips ending just in front of Remus’ thick socks—Jules was even paler up close, his eyes huge and vulnerable.

Something nudged his hand and he blindly grabbed it, keeping Jules’ gaze on him with all the calm he could muster. “I’m going to hold this out,” he said. “And you’re going to take the end, and I’m going to pull you over here. We’ve done this a million times, remember?”

Not on cracking ice with a fifteen-foot-deep pond below, but that’s not important. Jules nodded; Remus licked his chapped lips and gripped the end of Sirius’ stick, lowering his center of gravity to conserve his balance. He raised the other end toward Jules and shoved down his nerves so his arm wouldn’t shake. There was a light tug as Jules grasped the fluke.

“Got it?”

Tearstains shone on his cheeks, but his eyes were dry when he gave a single nod. “Got it.”

And Remus yanked. Jules slipped across the ice and slammed into him full speed, but Remus didn’t even budge as he gathered him close and let him break down sobbing. “I’ve got you,” he said, rushed and hoarse with relief. “I’ve got you, buddy, it’s oka—”

The ice groaned beneath them—Remus didn’t even think before taking Jules by the shoulders and shoving him back toward Sirius. His wool socks skidded on the slick surface and he barely had time to see Sirius’ eyes flare wide before his knee hit the ice, then emptied him face-first into nothingness.

----------------

Sirius threw himself backwards as the ice gave out, dragging Jules with him until his brain caught up to his body and he registered the hole in the pond. Dark water lapped at the edges. Bright white ice caught the afternoon sun. Remus was nowhere in sight.

“Remus!” Jules thrashed in his hold, howling and kicking as Sirius held him tight. “No!”

“Stay here!” Sirius ordered, planting Jules behind him as he snatched his stick off the ground and eased himself onto his belly, careful not to disturb the fragile ice any more than it already was. A clock was ticking in the back of his mind. Eerie calm settled over him. He heard Jules’ skates scrape forward and threw a hand out to stop him. “Stay right there, Jules, it’s not safe.”

When Sirius was twelve, one of the boys on his team fell through a weak patch on a frozen river. He was lucky enough not to be pulled downstream, but the cold had left him in the hospital with pneumonia for the rest of the season. He and Regulus hadn’t been allowed to step foot on real ice for the whole winter after that.

A pond had no current that would pull Remus under. That didn’t mean he was any less afraid.

“Come on,” he muttered, hyperaware of every move Jules made behind him and every possible movement of his stick as he held it in the water. The last thing they needed was for Sirius to fall in as well. “Come on, Remus, don’t make me come after you.”

His heart pounded in his ears, then skipped a beat as something bumped the fluke of his stick. He held his breath until he felt a hard pull on the end before gripping the hard plastic and hauling back with every bit of strength in his body until Remus’ front half slipped out of the water and onto the ice—Sirius wrapped his fingers in the back of his coat and dragged him out the rest of the way, scrambling them both as far from the edge as he could manage. Relief burned in his chest and stung his eyes as Jules cried out.

“You’re okay.” Every muscle released its tension at once when Remus lurched in his hold and began coughing up icy water. He ran a shaking hand down his face. “You’re okay, mon loup.”

“J—” Remus broke off and braced his hands on the surface of the ice; his whole body shuddered as his lungs expelled more water than Sirius could have imagined between heaving breaths. Gloved fingers scrabbled at Sirius’ arm. “Jules, Jules—”

“He’s fine, he’s fine, he’s right here,” Sirius assured him, rubbing circles over his back until the jerking stopped. Remus’ grip tightened in silent thanks; Jules knelt by his side, his skates left somewhere behind them.

“Remus?” he asked, panicked and pitched higher than normal. “Remus, are you okay?”

Remus nodded silently as a hard shiver wracked his body and his elbow buckled, sending him straight into Sirius. “Cold—hurts—”

“Jules, can you get our shoes?” Sirius asked while he began pulling Remus’ soaked outer layers off. The shirt beneath was dry enough, but the others would be too dangerous to leave on. Jules was off in an instant—Sirius removed his own winter coat and gritted his teeth against the biting chill, sliding Remus’ trembling arms into it and zipping it all the way up. His shoulders relaxed with a soft sigh and he leaned more of his weight into Sirius.

Jules returned barely two seconds later with their boots and Sirius pulled them on without a care about which was which; nothing mattered except Remus’ vivid red cheeks and pale face, growing steadily whiter as fat snowflakes fell around them.

“Skates,” Remus slurred.

“We’ll come back for them,” Sirius assured him. Tears were welling in Jules’ eyes again when he looked up, mirroring the ones Sirius fought to keep down as he slipped his hands beneath Remus’ knees and back and hoisted him into a bridal hold. Adrenaline pumped white-hot in his veins. “I don’t know the way home from here, so I need you to show me, d’accord?”

“Okay,” Jules agreed shakily, wiping his cheeks dry before turning and setting off at a brisk pace toward the path through the woods. It had been Remus’ idea to come in the first place—Jules had been so upset about the morning’s game, but apparently the pond always lifted his spirits. It worked until it didn’t.

Sirius forced his lungs to keep working as they trekked through three inches of snow, clenching his back teeth as the wind whipped his face raw. “Stay with me, mon coeur,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Remus’ forehead. His skin was cold to the touch, but not hypothermic—small victories, he thought.

Remus furrowed his brow, resting his face over Sirius’ heart with a mall noise. “Hurts.”

“What does?”

“Breathing. Joints. Hands ‘n’ feet.”

“We’ll be home soon.” I hope. “You’ll be nice and warm.”

Remus hummed, then went limp in Sirius’ arms. His head lolled back, blue-tinged lips slightly parted; Sirius’ stomach flip-flopped. “How is he?” Jules called without looking back.

“Just keep going!”

Jules didn’t respond, but Sirius saw his back to rigid and he picked up the pace. A spark of pride lit in his chest. Smart kid. “I’ll open the door when we get there!” he said a moment later, voice cracking only once.

“Re?” Sirius lowered his voice and rubbed his gloved hand over Remus’ upper arm. Snow caught in his wet hair and clumped lashes; he hadn’t been in the water long enough for hypothermia to set in, but Sirius didn’t want to risk it any more than they already were. “Remus, come on. Stay with me.”

“Less than five minutes!” Jules shouted as he clambered down a slight hill, like he could read Sirius’ mind.

“Stay with me,” Sirius repeated. Every article he had read, every warning the adults of his neighborhood had leveled on him as a child, every second of the horrible five minutes from Jules’ first plea for help and the instant he dragged Remus out the water replayed in his head on a loop. He was damp and cold and so not Remus that it shook Sirius to his core.

Remus’ shoulders twitched, then a light cough and a harsh inhale slipped through his lips before his eyes opened a sliver. “Sir’us,” he murmured. “Sir’us, cold.”

“We’re almost home.” He took a breath through his nose to quell the shivers in his blood and the tightness in his throat.

Remus made a faint noise of agreement and leaned into him more as Sirius hitched him up higher. “Didn’t mean to fall. ‘m sorry.”

“I know.” His voice broke and forced his throat to work around a swallow. “I know, it’s okay.”

“Jules?”

“He’s right ahead of us.”

“Burns.”

“Just hang on for one more minute. One minute.”

Warm air coated them like a thick blanket when Jules wrenched the back door open, tumbling inside with a shout for his father. Sirius kicked the door shut behind him, not even bothering to try and get his shoes off as Hope and Lyall came rushing in from the living room. “Jules, what—”

The reality of the situation hit Sirius like a ton of bricks at the same moment they blanched. “We were skating,” Jules blubbered through his fresh wave of tears, practically collapsing in Hope’s arms. “And I went too far and then the ice was breaking and I tried to get back but Remus fell an’ it broke and he was under for so long—”

“Jesus Christ,” Lyall whispered hoarsely, crossing the room in three long strides to guide Sirius toward the fireplace with a firm hand on his back and shoulder. “Where’s his coat?”

Sirius shook his head. The adrenaline crash was hitting hard—he felt like he was going to shake right out of his skin and dissolve into a puddle all at once, and his arms were numb from the elbows down. “He was soaked. Didn’t want him to freeze.”

“Did you walk back here in just your sweater?”

“He was blue,” Sirius managed weakly, staring at a blurry point just above the fireplace.

“ ‘m okay,” Remus mumbled. He closed a clumsy hand around Lyall’s wrist; his knuckles were purple from the cold when Lyall pulled his gloves off. “ ‘m okay, Dad, wasn’t long.”

Sirius carefully knelt on the rug and laid him in front of the fire, prying his fingers off Remus’ side before turning to his socks. He could still hear Hope comforting Jules behind them, but everything moved glacier-slow and eventually he gave up on trying to work the wool socks off Remus’ feet in favor of leaning to the side as the room spun.

“Sirius?” Lyall’s voice broke through the maelstrom in his head and he jumped; his face swam into view, lined with worry. “Deep breaths, son, everyone’s okay.”

Sirius shook his head to clear the fog. He was distantly aware of the tremors rocking through every limb, though none of it mattered in comparison to the normal color leeching back into Remus’ face as the fire warmed him. “Holy shit, it happened so fast.”

Lyall sighed through his nose and steadied him with a hand between his shoulder blades. “Let’s get that sweater off you so you don’t freeze, eh?”

It took longer than usual for Sirius to maneuver out of the thick fleece—it wasn’t until it came off that he noticed how the snow had soaked through in places—but the moment he was free, he had a lapful of Jules and his rubs were nearly crushed in a hug. He squeezed back just as hard, heart pounding at the mere thought of everything that could have gone wrong. If Remus had been a little slower, it would have been Jules that went through—it could have been both of them, and then where would Sirius be?

He opened one eye when Remus rested his hand on his knee; he was sitting up, but Hope was taking most of his weight with their backs to the fire. The ends of his hair curled as they dried, leaving him damp and drowsy. “We’re okay,” he said quietly, moving his still-chilly thumb over Sirius’ kneecap. “We’re okay.”

Nothing else needed to be said. Sirius reached down to link their fingers without letting Jules go for a single second and closed his eyes, breathing through the anxiety that was still trying to crawl up his throat. There was plenty of time for his mind to dream up alternate scenarios in his nightmares—for now, he could hold his family in silence and relish the living warmth.

#remus lupin #julian lupin #sirius black #coops #jules #lyall lupin #hope lupin #lupin family #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #hypothermia #skating

207 notes · View notes

redorich · 3 years

Note

May I request the aftermath of Cleo learning about the magic restrictions please and thank you.

The unfortunate thing about the Dream SMP is that there is no such thing as neutral ground. Everyone's in a faction, and everyone's got beef with everyone else. The only "neutral ground" is the unsettled wilds. When Philza reports this back to Cleo, who reports it back to Xisuma, Cleo wears a put-upon look and says that her and Joe's castle will do just fine, thank you, so stop worrying about it.

The day of the meeting comes, and though Philza is hesitant to return to the castle that scared Techno half to death and activated Ranboo's main character energy, he didn't spend all that time with Cleo handing out the invitations for nothing. Cleo herself won't be present, but her partner in crime Joe will be.

Inside the castle, past the courtyard teeming with armor stand faux-life, there is a meeting room with a table. There are exits on each of the four walls, so no one feels trapped, and the table is circular so that no one feels less important than anyone else. It's all a very Socratic setup.

At the far end of the room, where the head of the table would be were it rectangular, Xisuma sits calm as can be despite the powder keg of important people with grudges he's invited into his presence. On his right is Joe, whose eyes are lit up bright white, though he's still wearing his glasses. To Xisuma's left is Grian, and to Grian's left is Doc. Continuing around the table, next sits Eret representing the Pride Palace and, to a lesser extent, the Dream SMP as a whole. After them, the next person is Philza representing the Syndicate, then Bad representing the Eggpire.

Given the antagonistic nature of the Eggpire, Bad's neighbors have been chosen very carefully; on his other side sits Ghostbur representing L'Manberg. (Philza had awkwardly told Cleo that inviting a L'Manberg representative wasn't necessary, since the place was gone, but she insisted that it was "the principle of the matter". Ghostbur seems happy enough to be invited, anyway.)

On Ghostbur's left, Sam attends on Dream's behalf. Obviously, no one is going to invite Dream, and as Dream's would-be warden, Sam was nominated to attend in his stead. Next to Sam there's an empty chair for George; Philza and Puffy both warned the Hermits that George was allergic to "lore", whatever that meant, but his place at the table was set nevertheless.

The last person to fill in the table is Tubbo, representing Snowchester. He quietly expresses to Sam that he's wary about how few Hermits there are in proportion to the number of Dream SMP citizens. Sam shrugs, and murmurs back to Tubbo that there's probably more Hermits hiding somewhere nearby. After all, isn't that what the Hermits do?

Xisuma claps his hands together once in a polite bid for everyone's attention. They settle down slowly, and once they do, he stands.

"Right, everyone-- thank you all for coming. Let's get right into it, shall we?" He smiles, though it's hard to see beneath the helmet. "With some help from Puffy and Philza, my friends and I were able to figure out why we were trapped in your server."

Sam crosses his arms. He doesn't give much of a shit about the Hermits, he tells himself, unless they have something to do with Dream-- Sam's greatest failure. (It's a lie. He looks at Doc, the only other creeper-person he's ever met-- the first creeper-person, who fought a god and won the right to live for all mob hybrids who came after him. Doc, whose eyes are fixed solely on Xisuma.)

Clearing his throat to cover up the moment of weakness, Sam speaks up. "That's great and all, but why do we care? No one was living in L'Manberg anyway; it was practically free real estate."

The callous words net Sam a glare from Tubbo and a hurt look from Ghostbur. Before either can protest, Xisuma cuts in smoothly.

"It's an issue with your server," he says, "one that Dream should have fixed. It's the reason for this meeting, actually; if there was a responsible admin in the server, I would have just told them. First, a history lesson-- Doc, if you please?"

Doc nods somberly, savoring the opportunity to ham it up a bit. "For those of you who don't know, there are three Eras. The first is the beginning of time, when Mojang created the world as we know it. Players had infinite respawns, the world was less advanced, and redstone had just been created."

"Don't you think you're going a little too far back in history?" Bad asks skeptically.

"He's getting there," Eret defends.

Doc picks up where he left off. "In the Mojang pantheon, there was a god named Notch who wanted to expand the world's horizons, to give them new biomes and mechanics and blocks they'd never seen before... but you can't make something out of nothing. He needed magic to make his big updates a reality, and he stole it from the players behind the other gods' backs."

Ghostbur gasps, horrified. "He stole magic?"

"And so the gods killed him and gave the magic back, end of story," Sam snaps, then instantly regrets it. He's too on edge.

Thankfully, Doc either doesn't mind it or doesn't notice. "Not quite," he says. "When Notch took the magic from players, they lost the ability to respawn at all, marking the beginning of Era Two-- the Hardcore Era. When the gods found out, they were angry at Notch, so they exiled him to the Void. They tried to give players back their magic, but Notch had already taken too much, and servers and updates kept needing more and more... That's how Era Three started. It's the one you live in now, with the three life system."

"So... why does this matter?" Tubbo asks. "I mean, what does this have to do with why you're stuck in our server?"

"There's a parasite on your server, eating up all the magic," Xisuma says carefully. "Your server needed extra magic to keep up, so when we went through the infinity portal it grabbed us. As a group comprised mostly of Era One players, we have the magic that the server needs to compensate for the parasite."

Most of the Dream SMP citizens look either nauseous or extremely worried at the thought of a parasite. With a furrowed brow and a chewed lip, Eret breaks the silence.

"Do you know who it is?"

They all look around the table with wary gimlet eyes, attempting to suss out the imposter among them.

"A parasite..." Sam snorts derisively. "Sounds like that damn egg."

"Language," Bad snaps, but doesn't resort to violence.

"No no, he's got a point," Grian speaks for the first time. He'd been told to stay silent, but he's not a man who will ever pass up an opportunity to meme.

Bad's face falls, and he takes on a placating tone in an attempt to persuade the Hermits to his side. "Hey, don't be like that, the Egg's never done anything wrong!"

Sam's eyebrows raise practically to the ceiling. He looks at Bad in disbelief. "Never done anything wrong?" he says. "Remember when you--"

"That was me, not the Egg," Bad cuts in with a nervous laugh.

"You tried to kill Puffy over it, then killed Foolish instead," Philza says solely because he wants the Hermits to be mad about the Egg.

"Hm," Joe hums to himself. Up until this point the man everyone knows as Herobrine has been quiet, fading into the background, but now that he's made his presence known they can't help but be wary.

He drums his fingers on the table. "Yeah, I think we need some backup. False, Iskall?"

"On it," Doc grumbles, and reaches under the table to flip a couple trapdoors.

Out of nowhere, as though they'd ender pearled in, a blonde woman and a cyborg man appear behind the Hermits' end of the table. Bad stands up suddenly, knocking his chair backward, but Doc presses another button and all four entrances to the room are shut by pistons.

The woman, False, vaults herself over the table with nothing but upper body strength and tackles Bad to the floor. While the demon is still stunned, Iskall dashes around the circumference of the table to flank him. Doc once again presses a button and the floor opens up to reveal a secret staircase, which False and Iskall drag Bad down kicking and screaming. Once they disappear into the depths of the basement, the floor closes back up and the doors reopen like nothing ever happened.

"Well," Xisuma says with a small smile, lacing his fingers together as he addresses the group.

They stare back at him in horror.

He clears his throat awkwardly. "So, with the removal of the Egg, your server will stabilize and we Hermits will be able to leave you in peace..."

"I'm sensing a but," Eret says tentatively. They take off their sunglasses with a minute sigh, reminding themself that it's because of these Hermits that their curse was removed, that they can take off their sunglasses and have gray eyes again.

Taking a deep breath, Xisuma speaks. "We think we have a way to fix the three-life system."

#mcyt #hc x dsmp #hermit canyon au #zombiecleo #philza #xisuma #joe hills #grian #docm77 #eret #badboyhalo #ghostbur #awesamdude #tubbo #falsesymmetry #iskall85 #me.cpp #me.txt

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syndxlla · 3 years

Text

Part Fourteen of the More to Love Series

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

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

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

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

Part thirteen

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Listening?”

“For?”

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

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

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

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

“Uh…”

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Highness, please come back to your room.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Plans?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Close your eyes.”

“What?”

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

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

“What, you mean the blueprints?”

“Yes.” Your eyes stay closed.

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

“Mhm.”

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

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

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

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

“Rue.”

“What?”

“My son, his name is Rue.”

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not yet.”

—

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

“Princess?” He tilts his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I would never-“

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

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

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

“I belong to no one.” You defy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did he… touch you?”

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

“Did he?”

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh Stars, you loved him.

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s fine-“

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.” You mutter.

“What for?”

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

[SMUT BEGINS HERE]

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm.” You pathetically moan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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—

part fifteen

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tteokdoroki · 3 years

Note

Congrats on 3k babe!!✨👏🏽🥳

(I love your work!! Chef’s kissing bby🥺🤧)

Can I request prompt #’s 9 and 3 where katsuki has the hanahaki and readers with Shinso? ( angst with happy ending and smut )

katsuki bakugou x reader. ( no pronouns are given but female anatomy described. ).

tteokdoroki teaparty event masterpost!!

♡ prompt #3 + #9 — “if you leave then..” + reader or the character of choice has hanahaki disease.

♡ genre: mdni 18+. fwb!au, hanahaki disease!au, smut, angst.

♡ word count: 1.2K

♡ warnings: major character death, mentions of cheating, unprotected sex, mentions of blood.

♡ author’s notes: thank you for all your support and for requestiing my lovely !! ALSO I COULDNT WRITE A HAPPY ENDING IM SO SORRY

“k-katsuki—!”

the blonde beneath you sinks his teeth into your neck, he knows that you’d hate him for it in the morning, but he can’t help the feral desire inside of him to mark you up and claim you as though you’re his. bakugou starts to wonder if your pleasure blossoms from pain, from the way he leaves a bruising grip against your hips as his cock caresses your soaked walls to the feeling of your very own nails scratching down his freckled back. do you like being in pain? do you like causing him pain more? deep down he knows that you can’t be to blame for his condition, the burning spread of a deadly rose’s root throughout his body… the petals hidden away in his top left drawer nor the thorns hat litter his blood stream. you couldn’t be to blame, it wasn’t your fault that he had caught feelings, that he had caught the love disease. hanahaki.

“suki, ‘m gonna cum...don’t stop, please cum with me,” you sign, hand pushing through hair to bring him down in order to meet your lips. another set of dreaded red roses, the colour of his eyes and his blood that coats them, branch out against his lungs as you look up at him with pure bliss— your face twists with a euphoria that only he can give you and can often be mistaken with that of love. bakugou wonders if you’ve ever loved him, or if you’ve only ever been in love with how he fucks you. your legs up high and over his broad shoulders, heavy balls slapping against the curve of your ass every time he sinks deep into your tight cunt.

it’s nice to toy with the idea that you’re in love with him, but it doesn’t stop the flowers that slowly kill him from the inside out. it doesn’t help that you belong to someone else. “y-yeah? you gonna cum like a little bitch on my cock...oh baby, only if you tell daddy please,” katsuki mocks through laboured breathing, flame igniting in his lower belly at the sight of your sweet tears. he can’t tell if he’s panting because of how hot you look and now close you both are to cumming or because of how close the flowers bring him to death. “you like bein’ talked down on, don’cha bitch? can’t tell by the way your sweet cunny clamps down on me. who do you belong to?”

you can barely speak, orgasm right on the horizon. “y-you, belong to you!” comes your unhinged squeal as your hands grope at any of bakugou’s flesh available to you.

it’s not enough for him, however, bakugou’s warm and calloused hand reaching up to tug at your lower lip— opening up your mouth for him to spit into. “say ,y fuckin’ name, bitch. say it when you cum for your man.” he snarls from deep within his chest, forcing his hips to thrust into you at a new angle. the squealching sound of your sexes sends shivers down his spine as his gaze falls to where your bodies join and you become one with each other. fuck, he was close.

“‘m yours katsuki! ohmyfuckinggod, i’m all yours!”

you earn a few swipes your sticky and puffy clit, the attention sending you on a cliff dive right over the edge. you clamp down hard on bakugou, squeezing him for all of his worth until his relentless pace stutters and his cock paints your insides with the shade of white. the blonde drops his head to your neck as your body twitches with the aftershocks of your own release, the nectar dripping from your cunt and slicking up the latter’s cock. he wishes that you could lay here little longer, wrapped up in the sweet post orgasm bliss, but there’s a familiar pang in his chest and churn to his stomach when katsuki witnesses you reach for your phone on the nightstand beside him.

the pain of rustling roses returns to bakugou’s lungs when your screen illuminates with messages from him and he pulls from your heat with a hiss, rolling to your side and fixing his gaze on the ceiling. “yn, we can’t keep doing this.” vermillion eyes shut away the world as he waits for your response, listening to the rustling of clothes as you get yourself together and ready to leave.

“doing what, katsuki?” there’s an air of innocence to your tone, as if you hadn’t uttered his very name with an unrelenting neediness for the last hour or so.

this time, bakugou sits up— mindful of the thorns and petals that line the cavity in his chest. as the sheets fall away, he uses a strong arm to wrap around your waist— pulling you into him as if you’ll stay. the sweater you now where, the one that belongs to shinsou and the one that caused this night of passion, itches at his skin, but katsuki ignores it. “i can’t keep fucking you like we mean something, only for you to fuck off back to the asshole who doesn’t treat you right.” he was tired of the sneaking around, the false happiness you had created with him under this very roof. bakugou wanted more than to be your fuck buddy and go to when your boyfriend wasn’t enough.

you shake your head and laugh bitterly, tilting your head to the side to press a kiss to katsuki’s unsuspecting lips. the petals in his lungs rumble. “i love him, you know. he may be crappy at times but i can’t leave him. can’t hurt him. that’s why we do the things we do, sneak around like we do. i promised to never break his heart.”

“but you’re breaking mine,” katsuki practically pleads against your lips, his own are wet from tears he hadn’t realised were falling. he doesn’t know if they’re because he’s in pain or because he can feel you slipping away. “i’m in love with you, yn.”

panic rises with bile and blossoms in katsuki’s chest as you pull away from him harshly, lacing up your boots and grabbing your bag from the floor. “no one ever told you to catch feelings, bakugou. we are, were, fuck buddies win a now strings attached agreemnent. i’m not responsible for that.” you gesture to the way that he crumbles as you walk towards the door.

“yn, if you leave then, we won’t ever talk again. it’ll be all over.” bakugou knows it’s wrong to give you an ultimatum, he can see that from the way your eyes glaze over with tears. but he’s dying, rosebuds choking him from the inside out and clawing their way up his throat. he needs you to live or he’d die without you.

you turn, shaky fingers encapsulating the doorknob as you hold back your own tears. “whatever it takes to get it through your head, that i. don’t. love. you.”

you leave, and bakugou succumbs to the thorns in his lungs.

that night, the world shatters. katsuki bakugou dies alone in a bed of roses he’d breathed for you, petals as red as his eyes that you’d once loved so much. when his death reaches you, shinsou squeezes your shoulders and reminds you of how lucky you both are to be loved by each other. but you can only nod solemnly and pray he doesn’t find the orange rose petals you’ve hidden under your shared bed.

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kythed · 4 years

Note

I have a fic request for Kuroo! A childhood friends to lovers situation based off the song Take my Hand by Picture This! (Just a cute song that has been haunting me because Kuroo ❤️)

I have been through and stalked your blog and I love it! I also saw the ficmas prompt list and I’m looking forward to requesting those too!

I hope this is okay and thank you so much! Your stuff is a joy to read! ❤️❤️❤️✨✨✨

take my hand

kuroo tetsurou x reader

hope you enjoy <3

five.

“You’re my best friend,” he tells you, swallowing the heart that keeps straining to burst from his throat, to lay itself at your feet in all its humiliating devotion. “Of course I love you.”

And he does love you, he reassures himself, letting you walk ahead of him. Just not in the way you think he does. He struggles to keep his eyes above your waistline, tearing his gaze from the hem of your skirt and pointedly pinning it to the back of your head, where your hair is loosely tied with a glossy silk ribbon. His efforts succeed for nearly thirty seconds before he again finds his eyes tracing their way down your neck, down your back, down to the arch of your waist and the flare of your hips, relishing the curve of your--

Damn it. He abruptly stops in his tracks, rubbing his eyes until he sees only stars. (Maybe if he rubs his eyes with enough vigor he’ll stop noticing things he shouldn’t notice while looking at his best friend.)

“Tetsu,” you say, turning around with a laugh. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says gruffly, blinking hard.

He’s not fine.

four.

Life is painful when you’re in love with your oldest, dearest friend. Let Kuroo Tetsurou be the first to testify that when you’ve grown up with someone your entire life, when you’ve made the long, tedious trek from diapers to graduation gowns with them, it feels almost sinful to find yourself slipping into daydreams about pressing that person against your wall, about hearing them whisper your name on soft linen sheets, about kissing them breathless and glassy eyed until the sun plunges beneath the horizon with a brazen wink.

He hates himself for staring at you and hoping to catch you staring back. He hates himself for letting your words wash over his head, unheard, in favor of watching the way your lips curve and curl when you speak.

Most of all, he hates himself for loving you so fiercely in a particular way that would surely sour your stomach and send you running.

“I love you too,” you say, waiting for him to catch up and fall into step beside you. You take his hand and lace your fingers with his as you make your way up the street to your house. The windows glow a domestic orange, dimly illuminating the patch of asphalt before your front door.

It’s nearing seven now-- the gentle clinking of silverware and some sort of faint, savory scent from within inform you of dinner’s impending commencement.

“I know,” he says, cracking a crooked smile. You roll your eyes as he brushes a mocking kiss over your knuckles. “I’m hard to hate.”

three.

Most of the summer passes uneventfully, according to Kuroo’s standards. He manages to keep himself in check, even as he spends each and every day with you, dawn til dusk, savoring your presence the way a starving man savors his last ration.

He manages to treat you almost exactly as he’s treated you his entire life-- like a best friend. He tells his silly jokes that make you giggle and groan simultaneously. He pushes you off the pier when you least expect it, howling with laughter as you resurface, sputtering and flinging fiery invective. He shares an earbud with you as he walks downtown with you by his side, arm slung over your shoulder with carefully calculated composure.

He almost makes it to autumn without incident.

The small, hidden moments are what gives him away, though, layered within false nonchalance and easygoing grins like brightly painted matryoshka.

The way his chest constricts almost painfully when you laugh at a pun he’s ad-libbed on the spot, sending a flurry of butterflies freewheeling in the pit of his stomach.

“It really wasn’t that good,” he chuckles, tenderly watching as tears of laughter prick at the corners of your eyes and you grip his forearm in an attempt to steady yourself as giggles rack your body.

“No, it wasn’t,” you agree, struggling to catch your breath. “It was awful, and that’s what made it so funny.”

(He makes about a dozen more puns that day, feeling like he’s won the lottery whenever you so much as smile at his pitiful attempts at wordplay.)

The way his hands tremble when you turn around and ask him to tie your bikini string before you jump into the lake, the way he bites his lip so some horribly incriminating comment about how he really thinks you’d “be better off without the bikini at all” doesn’t slip out from his mouth.

“Thanks Tetsu,” you chirp after he ties the string around the back of your neck in a neat double-knot. You give him a wink and take off towards the water, kicking up sand in the process. “Last one in buys lunch!”

(He was already planning on paying anyways.)

The way he sits up a little straighter when you lean over and slip a hand under his arms to press ‘skip’ on his phone while you listen to his playlist-- you’re so close he can smell your lip balm.

“Sorry,” you say, smiling apologetically. “I don’t really like that band.”

(Later that evening, Kuroo goes through his Spotify and deletes every single song from that band he has on all of his playlists.)

Yes, he manages to keep himself in check outwardly. But inside, he can feel himself digging his grave a little deeper with each passing day. He watches the sands of summer run through his fingers with the dread of a man counting down the days to his funeral.

He just knows that one of these days he’s going to slip.

two.

He’s right, of course. There’s only so much emotional torment one person can humanly endure. It’s just that he’s hoping he can extinguish this inconvenient, one-sided flame before August comes around. Maybe then everything can go back to normal, whatever normal might entail.

Needless to say, Kuroo’s hopes are dashed before summer comes to a close.

It’s a sticky July evening when you and he drive out to an empty parking lot at the edge of town, a blanket and an old transistor radio in tow. You’re wearing a pale yellow sundress that falls to just above your knees-- he’s glad it’s not any shorter, and that the breeze isn’t quite strong enough to lift your hem.

“I think I can see Orion’s belt,” you say, pointing towards somewhere far into the cosmos. Kuroo squints, trying to follow your finger.

“I don’t think that’s Orion,” he says. “Looks like a cat to me.”

The two of you are sitting on a blanket spread across the hood of his car, craning your necks to make out vague shapes in the stars. Between you, slow, muffled music trickles out from the radio’s small speakers, some sort of vintage tune from the forties.

“How in the world are you seeing a cat?” You shake your head, giving him a hard poke on the shoulder. “Looks more like a swarm of astral bees than anything.”

“Astral bees,” he repeats with a laugh. “Laziest constellation interpretation I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s not lazy,” you protest. “It’s accurate.”

Kuroo just smiles and shrugs, sneaking a glance at you. Your face is bathed in milky starlight, eyes wide as you peer up at the cloudless sky with a blend of wonder and appreciation. There’s some competition, but he thinks this might be the prettiest you’ve ever looked in a single moment.

As if you can feel his stare, you turn to catch his gaze. A gentle smile breaks onto your face, and you absentmindedly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear with the endearing shyness of a schoolgirl. “What is it?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he says, mirroring your grin. “You just… look nice right now.”

“No, seriously,” you laugh disbelievingly. “Is there something on my face?”

“I am being serious,” Kuroo insists, fidgeting with the blanket beneath his palms. “You look good. Yellow suits you.”

You flush, glancing down at your dress. You bought it two summers back, and he’s seen you in it a million times before. This is the first summer where he’s really seen you, though. “Well, thank you. It’s a warm night, so I figured I was better off in a dress than pants.”

“Yeah,” he says softly, breaking eye contact to squint up at the stars. He grins and points, finger trembling slightly. “I think I can see where you’re coming from, with the bees.”

one.

A staticky, syrupy waltz comes on the radio, bleeding into the cracks in the comfortable silence. You sigh contentedly, leaning back onto the windshield. “I like this song. It’s… nostalgic.”

Kuroo cocks an eyebrow at you. “You’ve heard this before?”

“No,” you laugh, biting the inside of your cheek. “But it reminds me of times gone by, you know? Like, this is the sort of music I imagine playing when a soldier reunites with his wife after the war.”

“When he comes running out of the train and drops his bags on the platform,” Kuroo continues, watching you carefully, “only to sweep his girl off her feet and spin her around wildly.”

You nod, sneaking a glance at him. “You really know me that well, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes crinkling with humor. “But I get it, too. It has that old fashioned romance thing goin’ on.”

“Mhm,” you agree. You reach over and fiddle with the radio’s volume, turning it up just enough to round out the sound completely.

Kuroo sits for a moment, watching you close your eyes and hum along to the music. Then, a sudden boldness taking the reins, he hops off the hood and walks over to you, extending his hand. “Take it.”

“What?”

“Take my hand,” he insists, so you do, gingerly placing your palm atop his. “We’re going to dance.”

“Oh, no,” you laugh, nonetheless letting him help you down from the car and resting a hand on his shoulder. He lightly places his own on your waist, leading you out into the parking lot. “You know I can’t dance.”

“I can’t either,” he reminds you. “But I want to dance with you right now.”

As you begin to sway slightly to the music, Kuroo pulls you a little closer to his chest, letting his chin brush the top of your head. “Why are you into that whole idea?”

“What idea?” you ask quietly, letting him lead you in slow circles around the lot.

“The idea of an old fashioned love.”

“Oh,” you say, laughing as Kuroo spins you in his arms, catching you before you stumble. “I’m not sure… maybe because it seems more constant than love today. Like, today, if you tell someone you love them, it’s a compliment, not a promise. But back then, it was a vow. It meant something.”

Kuroo swallows, looking down at you. His heartbeat pounds in his ears, threatening to burst out of his temples. I’m about to do something I might regret.

zero.

“I need you to do something for me,” he says, voice low and thick with caution. “Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Please,” he says, voice breaking. He knows that if he doesn’t do this now, he never will. You look beautiful to him in this moment, dancing with him in the empty parking lot to the faint melody of an old waltz. Your eyes glisten with life, your lips gently parted, hair slightly curling over your cheeks.

You roll your eyes once but nonetheless close them obediently, relying a little more on his arms to steady you. He swallows. “Okay. So, imagine we’re living in the 1940s.”

“Okay,” you say, smiling slightly. “I’m imagining.”

“Imagine I enlisted in the war, and I just got back home. Imagine you’re waiting for me at the train station.”

“Mhmm,” you say, trying your best to envision the platform. “You look good in that uniform, Tetsu.”

He chuckles. “I look good in anything.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, squeezing his hand. “Get on with it.”

“Imagine I come sprinting out from the train and you’re waiting there with open arms. This song is playing on the platform speakers. I ask you to dance just like we are now.” Kuroo watches you grin, feeling his heart flutter. “Then, imagine I tell you something.”

Unconsciously, you shift closer to him, almost pressing your body flush to his. A breath hitches in his throat. “What do you tell me?”

He leans down, brushes his lips against your ear. “I love you.”

You open your eyes, head cocked, slight confusion cloaking your features. “You mean, like…?”

Kuroo shakes his head. “No. I mean, like, I love you. Not just in a friend way. In that old fashioned way you were talking about. I love everything about you. I’m in love with everything about you.”

“Tetsu…” you breathe, searching his face. He gazes down at you seriously, not a trace of humor tainting his stare. He takes a deep breath.

“I love the way your hair falls in the summer. I love your stupid, annoying laugh. I love how your hand fits in mine. I love the way you rant about anything and everything and expect me to listen, and I do because I can’t help but get excited about what you get excited about. I love you like a soldier loves his wife,” he says, the words flowing out like a river bursting from a dam. “I love you so much it hurts, and it scares me, and I’m sorry if this ruins stuff between us, but I just had to--”

“Shut up.”

He blinks, mouth gaping. “I-- what?”

“I said,” you whisper, gripping the back of his neck and guiding his face down to yours. “Shut up, Tetsu. You talk too much.”

Then suddenly you’re kissing him, and he can’t believe it, but he kisses you back like it’s what he was born to do. He lets you crash your lips into his and watches as shooting stars burst forth and the planets align. Somehow, your hands find their way up into his hair, tangling themselves in his dark locks, and his own travel down to your lower back, pulling you as close as humanly possible, so tightly he never wants to let go. He revels in the warmth of your skin, the icy, tingly sensation of your lips, and when you pull back, it’s all he can do to refrain from pulling you right back in again.

There’s a brief silence. His lips are swollen, his lungs are devoid of air. “I… wow. Just, wow.”

You grin wickedly, slipping your hand into his. “I’ve been waiting to do that for a while now.”

“You have?” he asks, eyes wide in disbelief. “I didn’t notice.”

“Of course you didn’t,” you laugh. “You were too worried about not letting me notice you staring at my ass every chance you got.”

Kuroo flushes but gives a sheepish smile, massaging the back of his neck. “You know, I really thought I was being smooth about it.”

As it turns out, you love him back. And not just in the best friend way. You love everything about him, his stupid jokes, his loud, booming laugh, his teasing, his smile, his successes and his failures. You love how your hand fits in his. You love that it took him years and years to admit to himself that he loved you, too.

Kuroo Tetsurou may not be the smoothest guy in the world, but he’s certainly the only one you want. And you’re certainly the only one he wants.

And that’s really the most you could ever ask for.

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo headcanons #kuroo tetsurou headcanons #kuroo imagines #kuroo tetsurō x reader #kuroo scenarios #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x you #friends to lovers

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wolveria · 3 years

Text

Inside Your Wires - Ch 16

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: You make your report to CyberLife's AI program.

AO3

Story banner by @uh-kitty-got-wet

November 6th, 2038

Saturday 07:51PM

You opened your eyes.

Or at least, you were given the illusion of opening your eyes.

A black umbrella was clenched between your fingers, and you raised your arm to examine it. You’d never needed one before, but then again, the Zen Garden had never been anything but full of fabricated sunshine and simulated summer.

Now, a light drizzle rained down, the sky mildly overcast with dark clouds promised on the horizon.

You strode forward, the soles of your shoes tapping over the shiny steppingstones. You knew where to go, summoned by the AI to receive your report and diagnose your software for signs of corruption.

He was waiting for you under one of the more artificial-looking trees, its trunk stark white with hard, geometric angles. In contrast, his face was soft and warm, though the pale blue of his eyes never seemed to thaw even when he was pleased.

You came to a stop and slightly bowed your head, a small smile spreading on your lips. He liked when you smiled.

“Hello, Elijah.”

“YN800,” he responded with a small twitch of his lips. “I’ve been waiting. Would you like to walk with me?”

It wasn’t a request to be refused, but you would never think to refuse it. You opened the umbrella and took his arm, offered to you in a mimicry of the perfect gentleman.

You held the umbrella aloft in your other hand, careful to not let the water droplets touch his pristine porcelain skin or his dark hair, slicked back into a ponytail.

“Three investigations, three failures…”

The tone of his voice was low, murmured. Something cold wrapped around your thirium pump.

“That’s very disappointing. I expected more from our best model.”

“The deviants are proving to be more of a challenge than I first anticipated,” you answered quickly. “But we did manage to find some useful information of the deviants we’ve encountered thus far.”

Elijah continued to walk at his smooth, slow pace. Even though his arm didn’t actually exist, it felt real in a physical sense. There was no reason to go through this social ritual, but it would be impolite to pull away, and there was no reason to avoid his touch.

“It would be more useful to capture one of these deviants intact.” The iciness of his words warmed a few degrees as he added, “But I suppose we must work with the material at hand. So, tell me, what did you learn?”

Something inside your chassis relaxed, and you were eager to relay your findings to the AI.

“The deviant was working under a false identity at the Urban Farms of Detroit. It was programmed as a secretary android at the DPD, so to become a farm worker is quite a different task than it was designed to accomplish. This is also the first time we’ve seen them blend in with human society. It’s possible there are many others like it.”

It was difficult to tell if Elijah was pleased or dispassionate. They sometimes took on the same expression.

“Go on.”

“There was an encrypted diary, though without its cipher it may take weeks to unlock.”

You paused, and Elijah finally turned his head to gaze at you.

“Something else to add?”

“I’m not sure of its relevancy. Just an observation, but it seemed to be fond of… rodents.”

Elijah raised an elegant brow.

“Rodents.”

“Yes, rats specifically. We’ve seen deviants interested in animals before, but this deviant was caring for them as if beloved pets.”

His stare lingered on your face before he looked forward again.

“What a shame you let it self-destruct.”

Your face remained impassive even as you experienced the urge to frown, to turn to Elijah and appeal to him that it wasn’t your fault.

But you were a machine, and he was a program. Only objective, unemotional responses mattered.

“I have no excuse and should have anticipated its behavior, no matter how unpredictable these deviants can be.” You bowed your head. “I will be more careful moving forward.”

Elijah seemed placated by that answer. His next question was a topic change, but a familiar one he had asked about before.

“And how is your relationship progressing with the detective?”

You recalled seeing the taillights of the detective’s car as he sped away, a blaring 99.9% stress level indicator at the side of your vision.

“Poorly.”

Elijah came to a stop in the middle of the bridge that spanned the small lake and turned to face you fully. You met his gaze, waiting for his reprimand.

“It’s not like you to be reticent, YN800. What is it about this human that has you so troubled?”

You didn’t react to the word. Oftentimes, Elijah used emotionally-charged language as a test, to see how effective your anti-deviancy program was operating.

“I’m not troubled,” you politely corrected him, “merely disappointed in my own inefficiency.”

He placed his hands on both of your shoulders, raising his brows and giving an expression of open sympathy. He wanted you to continue, that much was clear. The sooner you gave him what he sought, the sooner you could end your report.

“I believed I was making progress,” you said. “Detective Anderson was less hostile after I rescued the girl on the highway. He also seemed grateful I saved his life during the Ortiz investigation. However, when I was faced with a decision between my mission and stopping to aid him, I chose to chase after the deviant. He was… unhappy.”

You hadn’t realized you’d lowered your gaze until Elijah placed a finger under your chin and tilted your head upwards again. His eyes were hard, unyielding, and it seemed as if the temperature of the Garden had dropped several degrees.

“The plague of deviancy continues to grow. It won’t be long until the media catches wind of the problem, and CyberLife will have its hands full dealing with public opinion. It cannot be allowed to continue to spread.”

Elijah released your chin and grazed the tips of his fingers against your cheek.

“You are the best CyberLife has to offer. If the detective refuses to cooperate, you will be transferred into the care of Lieutenant Anderson.”

The lieutenant’s easy smiles and calculating gaze flashed across your memory, and you couldn’t catch your LED before it spun a brief yellow.

“I would prefer to remain with the detective.”

Elijah raised an eyebrow, and you clarified, “It may not be too late to salvage our partnership. I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure this investigation succeeds.”

“See that you do. Use whatever means necessary and every tool at your disposal. Do you understand?”

Of course you did. It wasn’t high amongst your priorities, but you were programmed with seduction algorithms and had already deployed them at the bar in order to get the detective to cooperate. You were anatomically equipped for the situation should it present itself.

You preferred it didn’t come to that. Sexual acts were often tied to emotions, and the detective was emotionally unstable as it was.

“Yes, Elijah,” you answered with perfect obedience. “I won’t disappoint you.”

“I know you won’t,” he replied, voice gentle and softer than before. “I didn’t program you for failure.”

He pulled his hand from your face and walked past you, out from under the protection of the umbrella. The rain dotted the shoulders of his navy-blue suit, his hands thrust into his jean pockets without giving you a backward glance.

Your LED spun yellow as you closed your eyes, and when next you opened them, you were sitting within the dark interior of a taxi. Intermittent light spilled into the cab as the vehicle passed underneath the streetlights, and you watched as droplets of rain streaked across the windows.

Your mission objective hung at the corner of your vision.

[FIND DET. ANDERSON: INVESTIGATE EDEN CLUB HOMICIDE]

Next Chapter

#connor x reader #human!connor x reader #connor x android!reader #human!connor x android!reader #connor fanfiction #dbh #inside your wires #my writing #my fanfiction #surprise character #or somewhat of a surprise

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love-toxin · 4 years

Text

mister; tomura shigaraki.

a/n: this was a fic request from another of my lovely commissioners 💕

warnings: noncon, teacher-student dynamic, rejection/one-sided love, alcohol, groping, handjobs, fingering, forced orgasm, female reader.

word count: 3.6k

“You shouldn’t be here with us.”

That warning hummed in your ears, the memory still so vivid that it could have happened today, or yesterday, or the day before. Your leader said so little and so much all at the same time, and enduring the weight of his actions versus the sting of his words was like fighting an impossible war, the ground being yanked out from underneath your feet every time you thought you held victory in your hands.

But there were perks to dealing with someone as hard to predict as Shigaraki. Perhaps not worthwhile ones to most, but in your heart, nestled to you close and safe, they were priceless.

“Mr. Tomura, can I talk to you?”

The first, and certainly the most important, was that he wouldn’t turn you to dust the moment you spoke up. And that would’ve been the likely scenario for any normal person who dared to interrupt him while he stood alone on the rooftop, just a few floors above where you had your meetings with the League. During your missions, he commanded attention with his presence alone...but standing all by his lonesome, looking out over the orange-streaked sky as the sun set on the horizon, he seemed more human now than he might ever be.

“Mh. Come closer. Can’t hear you mumbling from back there.”

His hair whipped about his face in the breeze, and his jacket trailed behind him as you quietly padded over on light feet. You would never forget when Shigaraki saw you as a nuisance, and would begrudgingly allow you to come along with him when he went out--but now you accompanied him to important gatherings with other villains, and he even trusted you with bits of classified information that you valued almost over your own life. You'd learned so much from shadowing him...so when you stood by his side on the edge of the rooftop, the setting sun casting a glow over his features, you had to swallow back your anxiety before you managed to ask the question that had been plaguing you.

“...Do you want me to leave the League, Mr. Tomura?”

Nothing fazed Shigaraki easily, whether it was because he so often wore Father to conceal his expressions, or because he just didn't care. But you could tell by the furrow of his brow as he looked out over the city that what you said had struck a nerve.

“It’s too late now. Every hero on the block knows your face.”

And the answer he gave you was rather Tomura-esque, both falsely reassuring yet sternly final. He was right, but it wasn't the answer you were looking for--it wasn't what you were hoping to hear from him.

The two of you stood in silence, master and pupil with your eyes turned towards the horizon, and a cool wind breezing through your clothes to chill your flushed skin. You wondered if maybe this was your time to turn back, and abandon all hope of saying what you'd wanted to say for such a long time. Maybe the timing wasn't right, or he just wasn't in the proper mood to hear it...but then you heard a huff on his lips, and he reached up to scratch the back of his neck with a set of dull nails.

“...You would’ve been fine on your own. That’s what I meant, that you didn’t need us.”

You were forced to sit on that for a bit, the words swirling about your head until you could truly make sense of them. You were nothing before the League, barely even a speck of dirt on the pavement. You had no money, no allies, and no dignity, just scraping for what you could on the streets by sticking your hands in people's purses and stealing their wallets out from under their noses. But at least then, your only enemy was being caught by the police...but here in the League, every hero in the city had a picture of your face and a warrant out for your arrest, and you wouldn't have to watch your allies die in bloody fits of violence in front of you. If you were alone, you wouldn't have those worries at the front of your mind...you wouldn't have them at all.

“Who fucking cares? I was just thinking out loud. You’re learning more from me than you would being a pickpocket, so it doesn’t matter.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, the annoyance clearly etched into the lines of his otherwise youthful face. He wouldn't look your way, and maybe that was on purpose--especially considering the bite in his voice when he spoke up again.

“If you wanna leave, then go.”

Tomura had offered you a way out before, in the very beginning of your relationship with the League. Sure, it was mostly because he couldn't trust you, but it still felt as though he was offering you the choice to go your own way or join your forces with his deadly group. Hearing him offer that to you now, though, after you’d been through so much together...it had a much different meaning than before.

“I don’t want to leave the League, Mr. Tomura. And...I don’t want to leave you.”

You clutched at your sleeve, trying in vain to make sure you didn't stutter or trip over your words. It felt impossible when standing in his presence though, even the air around him was intimidating and almost overwhelming to the senses. And it didn’t help when your heart was beating so frantically in your chest that it felt like it thudded against your eardrums, pounding louder and louder until you could finally hear your own voice spill out.

“I think you appreciate me more than it seems. I feel like we’re stronger together...like I have a place here. A place by your side.”

How you wished you could reach out and take your leader’s hand in that moment, and hold it to your chest so he would have to look you in the eyes. You never imagined you’d speak such words to him, always shying away whenever an opportunity presented itself--but now, with your hair whipping about your face and not a soul around to hear you speak but him, you found your courage and made the world slow to a stop in a moment.

“..I love you, Mr. Tomura.”

The truth never felt so raw on your lips before, the words only ever echoed in your own head as you wondered how you would say them. None of your scenarios quite came to the dramatic fruition as you secretly hoped they would, but the exhilarating terror of your confession coming into the light still made for a memory you’d never forget.

A memory that you would soon wish you could forget.

“...Focus on learning from me. You don’t need anything else to distract you.”

In a moment, your heart crumbled under the weight of its own expectations. A stout, resound “no” was a nightmare of the cruelest type--but having to listen to him skirt around his denial of your feelings was just as heartbreaking, if not even worse when it was on such sweet lips.

“But-”

You already opened your mouth in a rebuttal, not knowing exactly what you would say--but Shigaraki stopped you with a cold, stern gaze, his eyes like chilling flames burning into your soul.

“That’s enough.”

He turned away from the sunset completely, a shadow casting over his face as he averted his gaze from yours. His voice grew a little softer as his words hung in the air, but they were still firm, still decided--they were still Tomura's orders after all, and no matter what, you promised that you would always obey them.

“Keep your nose clean and be a good girl, just like always. You don’t need to be in love right now.”

In a gesture that you would normally treasure, he reached up with a careful hand, and you felt him gently pat your head with his pinky outstretched as usual. But in this moment of crushing heartbreak, you turned your eyes to the ground as he did so and waited until he was done, and listened to him walk away with a tremble in your throat.

“...Yes, Mr. Tomura.”

“Fuck’s sakes…”

One drink to drown his sorrows had turned into a second, and then a third, and after that he had lost count. He wasn't really trying to keep it, though--drinking away his problems wasn't something he really wanted to remember in the first place, and especially when it was because of you.

He just couldn't wrap his head around you. Trying to think of what he could've done to make you think he was interested in you was a task he wasn't mentally prepared for, especially considering his position as both your boss and your teacher. But maybe that was the allure these days, he couldn't fucking guess. Either way, it was a shitty feeling to know that things were probably going to be awkward from now on, at least on your end...

He slumped against the wall to his left, already close to collapsing altogether. His feet were about as useful as blocks of stone at this point, barely able to shuffle forward the few feet that it would take to stumble through his bedroom door. And no matter how strong he was, too much booze would take down anyone if there was enough of it to go around--and he'd certainly had his fill by the time he staggered away from the bar.

The world spun around him, his consciousness fading in and out as the alcohol numbed him from the neck down...and all he heard then was the sweet, sleepy voice of his pupil perking up at the sight of him, just like always.

“..Mr. Tomura? Are you okay?”

With only one glance at him in his current state, you knew for a fact that he wasn't his normal self. Tomura was never one to trip over his own feet, or stagger doggedly around like he could barely stand up. It took the smell of his breath as you got closer to realize that he was absolutely drunk off his ass, which was more than enough explanation as to why he was hanging around here so late. But then again, so were you--though your intentions were a little less self-destructive.

“Here, Mr. Tomura, let me help you to your room.”

What should have been an awkward meeting again became a slow, silent shuffle to your boss's bedroom, his head hanging low and his arm draped over your shoulders as you helped him along.

Somehow, you almost felt betrayed--he had rejected your feelings rather outright, and expected you to simply ignore the fact that you loved him as you continued to work as master and pupil. Couldn't he realize how difficult it was to even touch him, your fingers itching to ghost over the skin you couldn't see?

"Guh.."

You nudged the door open with your elbow, and by the noises he made as he clutched his mouth, you thought he might throw up all over his own rug. But he kept it in at least long enough to make it to his bed, and from there he slipped off from where he was hanging all over you and crawled on to the mattress that squeaked under his weight.

You weren't really sure what drove you to keep standing there, your eyes burning holes into the back of his head. But whatever it was also led you to lock the only door to his room, and turn back to place one unsteady, tentative hand on the edge of his bed.

He didn't stir. He barely even breathed it seemed like, panting so soft and quiet that it would sound like nothing to the untrained ear. Your mind fell back to all those lessons Mr. Tomura indulged you in, about using your quirk to the fullest to make sure you were never seen by your enemies, and never followed back so the heroes could ambush you. A surprise could come from any angle, especially when you were left weak and prone in the sights of someone who wanted to do you harm...and you would never do Mr. Tomura harm, not even for all the power and money and love in the world.

"You rely on me so much, Mr. Tomura...I-I...I can be all that you need.."

Perhaps it was because of your leader's weak state that you plucked up the courage to move forward, the buttons of your blouse coming undone easily under practiced fingers. When you imagined these scenarios in your head, you always thought Tomura would be staring up at you from his place on the bed, eyes filled with awe as he watched your clothing slip off your shoulders and down your legs and leaving you only in your underwear. Having him burrow into the comfort of his bed and not paying attention wasn't what you wanted, but you had to pick and choose your victories--and one of those was the way his head perked up when you tugged on the back of his shirt, and he turned to look at you with wide eyes once he realized what all the shuffling behind him had been about.

"What the fuck.."

The words tumbled softly out of his mouth, unrestrained and without a sober thought to back them up. The Tomura you knew, who would have been so difficult to move when he wasn't doing it himself, fell back like a sapling in the wind when you pushed his shoulder gently so he would turn over on to his back. If it were anyone else, baring your body to him for the first time would be so frightening, and you probably wouldn't have had the nerve to do anything but stand there and shiver at the cold draft in the room.

However, you could only push down a smile at doing so for Tomura, especially when you saw how flushed his face was up close as you climbed into his lap. His tongue looked heavy in his mouth, lolling off over his lips as you felt his jeans grow tighter and his legs shake underneath you--and you set your sights on relieving that burden for him, leaning in to suck down on the slick muscle and being rewarded at once with a criminal whine.

"Mr. Tomura.."

Your nipples pebbled through your bra in the cool chill of his room, goosebumps prickling your skin despite his body heat radiating off him and soaking into you with every touch. You knew how desperately he wanted to touch you, his fingertips twitching and digging into his sheets the more your hands roamed his chest, and you nudged at the hem of his shirt until you finally tugged on it to pull it up over his head. He wasn't biting, though, and held his arms down so you couldn't get it off--he was probably so shy, considering how much of his skin he hid with those hands and Father most of the time. It was endearing, cute even...you didn't know your sensei could have such a soft side to him.

"N..No..."

He moaned out in a wobbly tone, and you felt shyness creep up as you couldn't stop yourself from getting a little wetter than before. Tomura's voice did things to you in normal circumstances, much less when he was sleepy and sick with a tinge of roughness to his tone. That was a recipe for you to get hooked on his voice alone, and for you to finally move to unzip his jeans that you were soaking a wet patch through.

"I know you're just trying to protect me, Mr. Tomura…"

Your heart skipped a little beat when you finally got them undone, and realized he hadn't been wearing anything underneath--for someone who always spoke about how important appearances were, you wondered if he really knew how lewd he was being if he did this all the time. And with just a gentle tug, he moaned through gritted teeth as his cock sprung from the confines of his pants, already drippy and stiff and flushed from shaft to tip.

Mr. Tomura really was amazing, so worked up and hard even under the influence of so much alcohol...and when your fingertips brushed the warm flesh and he bucked into your hand on instinct, you felt confidence take over as you moved in and wrapped your hand around the base of his twitchy cock.

"I-It...It feels so nice, Mr. Tomura...I've always wanted to tell you how handsome you are.."

He whined and squirmed a bit at the firmness of your grip, his eyes glazed over and head drooping a bit as he felt it get heavier. His body still responded so sensitively to your touch though, hips jerking forwards as you dragged your hand up and down in slow, smooth strokes over his cock. You would have reached down to lap at it a bit with your tongue if you had the courage, to make the movement a little easier--but lucky for you, your efforts were rewarded with a generous helping of precum that spilled out of his slit, and lubed him up good enough that you could pick up the pace a little more and listen to all the new sounds he was making.

"Does it feel good, Mr. Tomura? All I want is for you to be happy...I'll do anything to make it so."

Your breath got caught up in your throat as you watched him come undone, one of your hands occupied with teasing his swollen tip with your thumb, and the other dipping below the waist of your panties so you could rub two of your fingers firmly into your sweet spot. They were nothing compared to what his would feel like, though...and that idea was something you couldn’t restrain once it popped into your mind. It was easy to take hold of his wrist and guide him over to you, a groan rumbling in his chest as his knuckles brushed over the wet spot in the fabric--and once you pushed his hand down your panties and his fingers nudged your sensitive clit, he succumbed to you completely and let you use his hand to get yourself off on his thigh.

"It's okay...y-you can touch me, Mr. Tomura...I'm not afraid."

It didn't matter that you were doing most of the work, this was what you wanted more than anything else in the world. Tomura was the center of your universe, and the person you never wanted to let go of, even if it cost you your life. So when he moaned out a slurred, unintelligible string of words that vaguely resembled something akin to a warning, you knew you couldn't stop--his cock wouldn't stop pulsating against your palm by now, and you wouldn't be able to handle his lithe fingers massaging your clit for much longer, either. Your sensei was finally going to cum for you, just like you'd fantasized during so many lonely nights in your room...and you couldn't wait to watch his expression when he did it just for you.

"Fuck...s-stop...stop-"

He finally tried to pull his hand away, but your reflexes were much better than his right now, and you forced him down to keep him against you until you could finally taste your end on your tongue. And he couldn't fight against his own body for much longer, the dribbles of precum down his cock making way for hot, sticky loads jetting out from the tip with every warm tug of your hand. You swore you wouldn't let any of this opportunity go to waste, and you didn't, making sure to milk him dry until your own orgasm overtook you and forced violent shudders running from your shoulders to your spine and down your trembling thighs. Tomura's hand was completely soaked when he finally pulled it away, your pussy still spasming with pleasure even when the stimulation was gone--and you felt a smile twitch up at your lips as the ecstasy melted into afterglow, and you felt him slowly start to soften in your hand as he struggled to try and catch the breath he'd lost.

"I-I'll...I'll get a towel for you, Mr. Tomura.."

You leaned down against him to press a proper kiss to his mouth this time, his lips loose and still until you finally broke it off with a wet smack. Your world felt hazy as you clambered back off of him and wobbled a bit to get your clothes back on, not bothering to fix your hair or button your blouse all the way--you planned to come back and clean him yourself anyways, as any good student would do for their teacher.

But as you slipped out into the hallway to retrieve what you needed from the closet down the corridor, you heard a bit of shuffling and a thump from inside Shigaraki's room--and then, very distinctly, the click of the lock sliding closed. You stepped back over and jiggled the handle just to be sure, but you knew by the weight against the door that he was leaning against it, still panting heavily before he shuffled back and you listened to him fall weakly into his bed.

He must not have wanted you to see him in such a state, and he was probably embarrassed at being caught at such a vulnerable time. You couldn't blame him for that...but it made the walk back to your room much lonelier, as you tiredly crawled into your own bed and wished that it was Mr. Tomura's.

#tomura shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #yandere bnha #yandere lemon #commissions #love-toxin #3k

1K notes · View notes

fuckallthegood0nesweretaken · 4 years

Text

Sandor Clegane X Reader - Five and One

Title: Five and One

Words: 5,574

Warnings: Slight violence

A/N: This might be turned into a series, but I don’t know just yet. If you’d like to request something, send me an ask. I’d love to write for you! There’s a Kiss Prompt list, a NSFW Alphabet list, and a Headcanon list. If you have an original idea, don’t hesitate to send in an ask for that as well.

If you’d like to support me, I have a Ko-Fi and a Patreon. I’ll be posting all of my work to Patreon first from here on out and I’ll even be posting some non-fanfic writing there as well.

Sandor Masterlist

Game of Thrones Masterlist

Masterlist

~~~~~~~

The five times Sandor Clegane wanted to kiss you

It was a hot day in King’s Landing and you were positively miserable. You had moved there seven years ago, just before the birth of your nephew, Joffrey. You were used to the cooler climate of Casterly Rock and the only reason you agreed to move into the Red Keep was because of your siblings. You had always been close to them and it had hurt to be so far away from your family.

This is how you found yourself walking to the cooling pools, a little Joffrey in tow. You were easily his favorite person, not including his mother. He absolutely adored you and you adored him too. Joffrey giggled and tugged on your hand.

“Come on Auntie! You promised to teach me how to swim!”

“I know, my love. We’re almost there,” you said with a sweet smile.

Sandor was following closely behind, eyes never leaving your form. Once he realized he was staring, he shook his head lightly to clear his thoughts. Sandor and you had a, friendship, of sorts. He was always around Joffrey, being his guard since birth, and in turn he was almost always around you as well. If Joffrey wasn’t in his lessons or with his mother, he was with you.

You could never say no to Joffrey when he wanted to spend time with you. You loved your nephew dearly and wanted to cherish the time spent with him while you could. It also helped that you liked Sandor’s company and he was with your nephew all the time. You shook yourself of your thoughts and turned to Joffrey.

“We’re here!” Joffrey looked around the cooling pools with wide eyes.

“It’s pretty,” Joffrey said, slightly in awe. There were three pools in the room, each with different depths. The clear water was slightly blue due to the stones at the bottom and the sunlight shining through the large windows made it sparkle. The temperature was significantly lower than outside and you were visibly more relaxed.

“Are you ready to swim, little one?” You said to your nephew. He nodded excitedly, a wide smile on his face. “Alright. Let’s get started then.”

Sandor turned around when you started taking off your outer layer of clothing and only faced you and Joffrey when he heard splashing. He watched as you taught your nephew how to float on his back and when he was having trouble, Sandor watched as you were patient with him.

“Sweetheart, it’s alright,” you cooed. “It takes a while to be able to swim. No one gets it in a day, so don’t worry about that.”

“I bet you got it in a day, Auntie,” Joffrey huffed. You let out a laugh and pinched Joffrey’s cheek.

“Actually, I didn’t know how to swim until I was almost fifteen.”

“That’s so old!”

“You hush, little one!” You said as you tickled Joffrey lightly, your face in a false pout.

“Why did you learn so late?” Joffrey questioned.

“Well, when I was a kid, my father, your grandfather, didn’t want me learning anything of that sort. He viewed swimming as being in the same ring as sword fighting and other, lordly things, things that a lady shouldn’t do. But one day, I fell into the water at Lannisport and almost drowned. Luckily, my father wasn’t far away and managed to get to me in time. After that, he made all of us learn how to swim.”

“So now you’re teaching me how to swim?”

“I am. When Marcella and Tommen are big enough I’ll teach them and if you have any other siblings, I’ll teach them as well.”

After a few more hours, Joffrey had learned how to float correctly and how to hold his breath under water. You were about to teach him how to tread water when someone came walking into the cooling pools, asking for you.

“Lady [y/n], King Robert is calling for you,” the servant said.

“Did he say what he needed me for?” You asked.

“He did not, my lady.”

“Alright. Come on, little one. We should get you back home.”

“But Auntie! I want to stay here with you and to keep swimming,” Joffrey pouted.

“I know, sweetheart. But your father needs me and don’t you want to see your mother? Get some food in that little belly of yours?” You tickled him again and Joffrey’s laugh echoed throughout the chamber.

“Okay, Auntie. Do you think Uncle Jaime and Uncle Tyrion will be there too?” The two of you climbed out of the pool and Sandor handed you some towels.

“Thank you, Ser Clegane,” you said to him with a smile. Sandor only grunted at you and turned away as you looked at Joffrey.

“I’m going to go change real quick. You go with Miss Ava and get changed too, alright?”

“Yes Auntie.” You kissed his forehead before going to the changing rooms.

Sandor watched you walk away and he shook his head. He was having a hard time controlling himself and if he didn’t get his shit together, bad things would happen. But he couldn’t help himself. You were so kind and gentle, and when he saw you interacting with your family, all he could think about was kissing you senseless.

When you walked out of the changing rooms, Sandor clenched his jaw shut and followed closely behind you when you started making your way back inside the Red Keep.

You couldn’t wait to get to Winterfell. The long trip would finally be over and you’d get to sleep in a real bed for the first time in a month. You’d also be able to see Ned and Catelyn again.

“Auntie, you’ve been here before, right?” Joffrey asked you as you rode beside him on your horse. Sandor was behind you, silently listening to your conversation.

“I have. I went with your father some years ago to help with some diplomatic things.”

“Did you enjoy Winterfell?”

“I did. It’s a beautiful place and the Summer snows are absolutely wonderful,” you said.

“It snows in the Summer?” Joffrey’s eyes were wide and you let out a laugh. Sandor snorted lightly behind his helmet but no one heard him.

“It does.”

“But it’s Summer time,” Joffrey said. “Do you think it’ll snow while we’re here?”

“They’re so far North that they get snow all the time, even when it’s Summer. It’s definitely possible that it could snow, but I don’t know for sure.” You gave your nephew a smile and pointed to the horizon. “We’re almost there.”

Joffrey looked to where you were pointing and saw Winterfell in the distance.

“We’re here to ask Lord Stark to be my father’s Hand, right? Do you think he’ll accept?”

“I hope so. Ned Stark is a good man and he’ll make an excellent Hand of the King.”

Joffrey kept asking questions and you answered them to the best of your ability, Sandor listening to every word. You were the only one that was able to make the prince less of a prick than he normally was and Sandor thought that it was hilarious. Not even his mother could make him do the things you could.

When you crossed Winterfell’s gates, Joffrey went silent and you sat up straighter. Your eyes met Catelyn’s and you smiled at each other. The youngest Stark girl looked at you in awe and you winked at her before Robert made himself known and everyone knelt on the ground. After Ned and Robert greeted each other and Robert looked at Ned’s children, you dismounted your horse and walked up to Cat.

“Lady Stark, it’s good to see you,” you said, giving her a hug. You turned to Ned. “It’s good to see you too, Lord Stark.”

“’It’s been too long,” Ned said as he kissed your hand. Cersei walked up and you moved to the side so the Starks could greet their Queen.

“Nine years, just as the King said.”

“Ned, take me to the crypts. I need to pay my respects,” Robert said, giving no room for argument. You gave your elder sister a sad glance when Robert said that and watched as they walked off.

---

You had been in Winterfell for a couple days when you saw Joffrey angrily talking to someone, Sandor looming behind him. Brows furrowed, you walked towards the three of them. When you could hear what he was saying, you narrowed your eyes.

“Do you know how much this cloak cost?!” Joffrey yelled. “Tell me how much you think it cost!”

“I-I don’t know, your grace,” the woman stuttered out, clearly terrified.

“Tell me!” The woman whimpered and you stalked towards them.

“Joffrey Baratheon, what is the meaning of this?” You said. You stopped a few feet away from them and put your hands on your hips. Joffrey turned to you and pointed at the woman.

“This peasant poured wine all over my cloak,” Joffrey hissed. Sandor rolled his eyes and shook his head when you glanced at him.

“And that means you can yell at her?” Joffrey was about to speak but you silenced him with a glare. “No, it does not. You can get a new cloak. Now, apologize to her at once.”

You could tell that Joffrey was biting his tongue and you narrowed your eyes slightly. He gave in and looked at the ground before glancing at the woman.

“Please forgive me. I acted rashly and rudely,” Joffrey said, voice low.

“It’s a-alright, your grace,” the woman said. She glanced at you and you motioned for her to leave. When she was gone, you turned to your nephew.

“Joffrey, you need to learn how to keep your emotions in check,” you said.

“She wasn’t paying attention and spilled wine all over me, Auntie.”

“That doesn’t matter. It was an accident and accidents happen.” You took his face in your hands and made him look at you. “You are to be king one day, sweetheart. A king needs to know when to release his anger and when to keep it in check. Yelling at servants because of accidents is not a kingly act.”

“You’re right, Auntie. I am sorry I acted like this,” Joffrey said.

“It is alright, my love. Just remember that when you are king, fear will be needed, yes, but you also need kindness.”

“I will.” Joffrey kissed your cheek and walked away. You sighed and looked at him as he walked away.

“He’s lucky to have you by his side,” Sandor said quietly.

“Let’s just hope that he continues to listen to me,” you said. You gave Sandor a small smile and bowed your head at him before walking back inside the castle.

Sandor let out a breath and leaned against the wall as he watched you leave. You were so kind and he knew that you would be going to find that woman and apologize to her again, even though you didn’t need to. He smacked his fist against the stone and pushed himself upright before walking back into the castle.

The day Marcella was sent to Dorne, you cried. It felt like it was the last time you’d see her and your heart broke as you watched her get smaller and smaller. Once she was a speck on the horizon, you walked with your family and Sansa through the streets of King’s Landing. The crowd was getting restless and when you saw Joffrey get hit in the face and heard the swords zing as they were pulled from their scabbards, your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest.

Joffrey was yelling and fighting broke out. You were with Tyrion and you both watched in horror as the crowd converged on a Septon and ripped his arm from his body.

“Tyrion, where’s Sansa?” You said. Your eyes darted around the street and you saw no sign of her anywhere. Tyrion pushed you towards a guard and he grabbed you before guiding you inside.

You sat down and immediately someone came over to you and checked you for injuries.

“I’m fine,” you said. “Other’s need your help more than I do.”

“My Lady—“

“I’m fine! Where is Lady Sansa, Ser Meryn? Has she made it here safely?” You said as you stood up.

“I haven’t seen her, Lady Lannister,” Meryn said.

“Go out there and find her. Bring her here.”

He was about to speak when you heard Joffrey say, “Let them have her.”

“If she dies you’ll never get your Uncle Jaime back!” Tyrion said. He walked up to Trant. “Ser Meryn, take some men and go find the Stark girl.”

“I take my orders from the King!” Meryn spat. Tyrion turned to Joffrey, expecting him to say something, but Joffrey just got up and walked away.

“I’ll go talk to him,” you said.

“He listens to you. Go talk some sense into our nephew.”

You started walking to Joffrey when the doors opened with a crash. Spinning on your heel, you were prepared for the horde outside but all you saw was Sandor carrying Sansa. Talking to your nephew was pushed from your mind as you ran to the girl.

“The little bird’s bleeding,” Sandor said as you got to them.

“Sansa! Oh god’s.” You cupped her face in your hands and brushed away her tears. Sansa clung to you, scared out of her mind and as you ushered her away from the commotion, you turned to Sandor.

“Thank you for getting her back,” you said. Sandor said nothing back, but stood straighter.

“Well done, Clegane,” Tyrion said.

“I didn’t do it for you,” Sandor said. His eyes darted in your direction before he stalked off.

When you heard the bells, you knew the siege was happening. You were in your room and ran to the throne room just in time to see the tail end of Joffrey’s men leaving and Sansa walking back to her handmaiden, Shae.

“Sansa!” You said as you approached. “Why aren’t you in the holdfast?”

“The king wished for me to see him off before the battle,” Sansa said.

“I hope he wasn’t too much of an ass?” You said quietly. Sansa’s eyes widened and she shook her head.

“No, never.”

“It’s alright, love. I love my nephew, yes, but he can be such an ass at times even though I’ve tried talking to him about it.” You gave her a smile and kissed her cheek. “The two of you go on and get to the holdfast. I’ll be there shortly.”

“Where are you going?” Sansa asked, worry in her voice.

“To give my brother and nephew my luck for the upcoming battle. Now go!”

Shae took Sansa’s hand and started leading her away. You took a breath before walking outside to find your family.

---

When you got to where Tyrion and Joffrey were, they were arguing as usual.

“The two of you seem to never stop bickering,” you said. You were walking up the steps, and the men turned to look at you, surprise written all over their faces.

“Auntie? What are you doing here? You should be in the holdfast,” Joffrey said.

“For once we agree on something,” Tyrion said.

“I missed you in the throne room. I came to give the two of you luck for the battle.” You gave them a smile and took Joffrey’s hand.

“You will do well to listen to your uncle, my love. I know the two of you do not get along, but Uncle Tyrion is a smart man and he knows what he’s doing. Now stay safe, and come back to me and your mother, alright?”

Joffrey just nodded and you kissed his forehead. Then you turned to Tyrion.

“Stay safe, little brother,” you said. “I expect to see you for our weekly dinner tomorrow night as always.”

“Of course, dear sister.” Tyrion grabbed your hand and kissed it, giving you a small smile.

“And Ser Clegane, I expect for you to keep my family and yourself alive,” you said to Sandor.

“Yes, Lady [y/n].” Sandor bowed to you and you dipped your head in return.

Turing to face the water, you heard the sound of distant drums and saw the first of Stannis’ fleet appear.

“There they are,” Joffrey said.

“Archer’s to their marks!” Tyrion said. His order was relayed and he looked at you. “It’s time for you to get to the holdfast.”

“Yes, it is.” You took a breath and looked at your family. “I love you both. Come back unharmed.”

Tyrion nodded and pointed at a soldier. “See to it that my sister is escorted safely back to the holdfast and you will be paid your weight in gold.”

“Yes, milord. Right away.”

You started walking away, giving one last glance to the ships appearing one by one. Pushing your nerves aside, you made your way back to the Red Keep and into the holdfast. Once you got there, you thanked the soldier and opened the doors. Sansa saw you almost immediately and walked over to you.

“Has the fighting started yet?” She asked you.

“No, but I saw the fleet. It will start soon enough,” you said. You saw the fear in her eyes and pulled her close. “No harm will come to you, little one. If Stannis manages to win this battle, he will not hurt you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“What I am about to say is not something that sounds nice. Do you want to hear it?”

“Yes.”

“You are a bargaining chip, little one. An ugly fact, but a fact nonetheless,” you said. “Stannis will want to make sure the North falls in line and will need you to help him.”

“Just like Cersei made me do for her.”

“Exactly like that.”

“Will you be hurt?” Worry was in her voice and you gave her a smile.

“I am a Lannister, love. Even though I haven’t done anything with the battle, I am still his enemy. I will be one of the first in here to die.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Sansa said. You kissed her forehead and took her hands.

“Stay strong for the people here. They won’t get it from my sister. Show them the queen you can be,” you whispered. Sansa nodded and you kissed her forehead again. Right then, Cersei came inside the holdfast with Tommen and he came running towards you.

“Auntie!” He said.

“My little love!” You swept him up in your arms and kissed your sisters cheek, the two of you walking to the back of the room.

“I heard you went to the battlements earlier,” Cersei said.

“I did. I missed our brother and your son so I went to them to give them my luck.”

“How kind of you.” There was a slight bite to her words but you ignored it.

The two of you sat down, Tommen sitting on your lap. Tommen fell asleep quickly and you pretended to do the same, listening to Cersei and Sansa talking. It was only when Lancel burst into the room did Tommen wake and you jerked with surprise at the noise. You listened as Lancel updated Cersei on the battle and as she told him to get Joffrey back inside the Red Keep.

When Lancel came back and told Cersei that all hope was lost because the soldiers saw Joffrey leaving, you had to hold back a laugh when Cersei pushed your cousin down and stormed out of the room, Tommen following her. Sansa then saw it fit to take your advice and calm the women, offering to sing a hymn with them.

“You must go,” Shae said to Sansa. “Run to your chamber and bar the door.”

“Come with me!” Sansa whispered.

“I have to say goodbye to someone. You need to run.”

“I’ll go with you,” you said. You locked eyes with Shae and she nodded.

“Come, Sansa. Let’s go.”

---

When you got to Sansa’s room, you made sure all the windows were shut as Sansa locked the door and brought a lantern over to her vanity.

“We’ll be safe here, love,” you said quietly. Sansa picked up a doll and you sat down.

“The ladies are starting to panic,” a voice said. You jumped from your seat and stood in front of Sansa, ready to take the brunt of an assault until you saw who had spoken.

“Seven hells,” you said, squeezing Sansa’s arm.

“What are you doing here?” Sansa asked him.

“Not going to be here for long. I’m leaving.”

“Where?” You said, approaching him.

“Some place that isn’t burning.” He looked at you and Sansa. “North, most likely.”

“What about the king?” Sansa said.

“He can die on his own, just fine.” Sandor took a drink of wine and stood up. “I can take you with me. Both of you. I can keep you safe.”

“I’ll be safe here,” Sansa said. “Stannis won’t hurt me.”

Sandor surged forward and Sansa flinched back. You stayed silent as Sandor went on about killers and when he was done, Sansa stood up straight and looked Sandor in the eyes.

“You won’t hurt me,” she said.

“No, little bird, I won’t hurt you.” Sandor looked at you and you shook your head.

“I can’t leave either,” you whispered. You saw his face fall for a split second before he turned away.

“Sandor, wait!” He stopped in his tracks, heart beating a mile a minute. That was the first time you had called him by his first name and he already loved the way it rolled off of your tongue. You walked up to him and put your hand on his arm.

“Can we speak outside?” You asked. He nodded and unlocked the door, stepping outside. You turned to Sansa and said, “I’ll be back in a minute, love. Don’t lock the door, we’ll be right outside.”

“Okay.”

You walked through the doorway and closed the door behind you before turning to look at Sandor.

“I can’t leave her by herself,” you said. “Besides Tyrion, I’m her only ally in this gods forsaken place and she needs me. She’s like a child to me.”

“I know,” Sandor said. He looked you in the eyes. “Keep her safe.”

“I will. You stay safe as well. My nephew won’t take your leaving kindly.”

“As you wish, Lady [y/n].”

You bit your lip and after a moment’s hesitation, surged forward to kiss Sandor’s cheek. He stood still in shock and stared at you as you went back inside Sansa’s room. The click of the lock spurred him into motion and Sandor left you and King’s Landing behind.

When you saw your brother step out of the carriage, you swayed slightly. Sansa steadied you and gave you a push.

“Tyrion!” You cried. Running toward your brother, you fell to your knees and embraced him tightly. Tears were running down your face and you felt him wipe them away.

“So you went to Winterfell when I told you to flee. How has that worked out for you?”

“Pretty well. Except for me losing my eye,” you said, laughing softly. “And I see that the rumors were true. You’re the Hand of the Queen.”

“I am.”

“Lord Tyrion, who is this?” You heard the Queen say.

“Your grace, this is my other sister. Lady [y/n],” Tyrion said. He kissed your cheek and the two of you stood up.

“Forgive me, your grace,” you said. “I did not mean to interrupt the formalities.”

“It is quite alright. It’s nice to finally meet you. You’re one of the few people Lord Tyrion speaks highly of, Lady [y/n].”

“I’m flattered, your grace,” you said. Bowing slightly, you looked at Daenerys. “If you’ll excuse me, I should get back to Lady Stark.”

“Of course.”

You turned and returned to your place next to Sansa and watched as they interacted for the first time. What you didn’t see was Sandor riding in, but he saw you.

You were radiant in his eyes, standing there. You didn’t look like the lady he had left behind in King’s Landing. There was an air of confidence around you that you didn’t have before, standing straight up with a sword at your hip and a dangerous glint in your eye. Sandor was so distracted by you, he didn’t realize someone had grabbed his horses reigns until they started speaking to him.

“Milord, I can take your horse to the stables for you,” the man said.

“I’m no lord,” Sandor said gruffly as he dismounted his horse.

“I can still take your horse for you, if you’d like.”

Sandor grunted as a reply, but let the man take his horse anyways. He didn’t really care what happened to the horse, if he was being completely honest. All he could focus on was you.

---

At the meeting, you finally saw Sandor Clegane. You were sitting next to Bran and Sandor was standing at the back of the room. The two of you had made eye contact and you gave him a smile, tilting your head in greeting. He did the same and you turned your attention to the meeting going on.

Lord Umber had just left and now Lyanna Mormont was talking to Jon. You loved how sassy she was and so did almost everyone else. Then, Tyrion started talking.

“If anyone survives the war to come, we’ll have Jon Snow to thank,” Tyrion said. “Thanks to his courage, we have brought with us the greatest army the world has ever seen. We have two full-grown dragons. And soon, the Lannister army will march North to join our cause.”

You sat straighter at those words and looked at Sansa, brows furrowed. That couldn’t be true. Cersei would never join forces with the Starks and the last Targaryen, least of all the two people in the world she despised the most: you and Tyrion. Tyrion kept talking but you weren’t paying attention anymore. You were too busy looking around the room, gauging the people’s reactions.

Lady Mormont was seething in her seat, Royce was shaking his head in disbelief, and everyone else was trying to speak all at once. You made eye contact with Sandor and cocked your head to the side, silently asking if it was true. He nodded and you sat back in your seat, mind running a mile a minute.

The meeting was over soon after that bomb was dropped on you. You kissed Sansa’s cheek before walking to the back of the room and stopping right in front of Sandor.

“Sandor,” you said, looking up at him.

“Lady [y/n],” he said, bowing slightly.

“Just [y/n]’s fine. Don’t feel much like a lady nowadays.” You laughed and Sandor scoffed lightly.

“You serving the Little Bird now?”

“In a sense. Brienne and I both protect her but I’m also protecting her little brother, Bran. I also give her advice when needed,” you said. “It’s not what my father had in mind when he taught me war tactics and probably not what my brothers thought would happen when I started training with a sword.”

“You seem happy,” Sandor said.

“I am. It’s been a long road to travel, but I’m glad that I got to Winterfell in one piece. Well, mostly.” You let out another laugh, Sandor frowning.

“When did that happen?”

“I was almost at Winterfell when I ran into Brienne and Podrick. Pod recognized me and convinced Brienne to let me tag along. Not long after, we found Sansa and Theon being attacked by some of the Bolton men. One of them got my eye but I took his life.” You shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly but Sandor stayed quiet and let you explain how you had gotten to stand by the Starks side.

He heard all of what you said, but couldn’t stop staring at you. He had known you were alive due to hearing it come from Jon’s and Tyrion’s mouths but seeing you here, in the flesh, made his brain stop working. He short circuited even more when you told him you had helped out with the Battle of the Bastards, but calmed down when you said it was just with the strategy.

“I’ll also be fighting the dead when they arrive.” You looked at Sandor and found him staring back at you, face unreadable. “Sandor?”

“You’re what?”

“Fighting in the Great War. I’d planned on it before Cersei said she was going to help us and I’m still going to now. Even if I don’t think she’s actually going to send anyone to help. My sister only loved five people in this world and now it’s down to one.” You were about to continue, but someone came up to you and said that Sansa needed you.

“I’m sorry, Sandor. This conversation will have to be continued later. I hope you find your stay in Winterfell better than the last.” Tilting your head slightly, you walked away.

Sandor watched you go and rubbed is face in irritation. He didn’t want you to fight, especially since he’s seen them up close, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop you. Sighing to himself, Sandor started walking deeper into the castle, mind running all over the place.

The one time Sandor Clegane kissed you

The dead were here and no matter how much you thought you were, you weren’t ready. You were up in the battlements with Sansa and Arya, watching the Dothraki being obliterated by the Night King’s army and to say you were scared would be an understatement. When Sansa went down into the crypts, you stayed up top with Arya and shot arrow after arrow at the dead.

The dragons were impressive but when the cold winds came whipping through Winterfell and obscured them and everything around you, you went down off of the battlements to join your brother Jaime, helping with the retreat. Once the trench was lit, you took a second to breathe. This small moment would allow who was left to regroup and make sure they were still equipped to fight the battle.

“You should get to the crypts, [y/n],” Jaime said. You glared at him and he flinched slightly.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m perfectly able to fight, just the same as you.”

“I just don’t want you to die!”

“No one here wants to die, Jaime. But I’d rather die here, defending everyone, and not run away like a coward,” you said. You turned and grabbed his arm. “I’m not leaving. I’m going to fight by your side, okay?”

“Alright.” Jaime kissed your cheek just as soldiers started yelling.

“Man the walls!” Was all you heard.

Sharing a look with your brother, the two of you ran up to the battlements, Jaime relieving the archers and you sending them up higher. You sheathed your sword and took out your Dragonglass knife, readying it for when the Wights came over the walls. Jumping up and down slightly, the first Wight came and you stabbed it in the head.

---

Sandor was faring no better than anyone else. All he could see was fire and all he could think about was you. The only thing that took his mind off of you was Arya. Seeing her in danger spurred him into motion and he found himself running through the halls of Winterfell to get her to safety.

---

When the dead started rising again, you felt your heart drop. You were in the courtyard with Jaime and you blindly grabbed his hand. He squeezed it and you looked at him, fear all over your face.

“Fight till our last,” you said. Jaime nodded.

“Fight till our last.”

You were soon joined by Brienne and Podrick, the four of you fighting off the new dead with everything you had. Blood was flying everywhere, the sounds of fighting and your own heart beating were the only sounds you could hear. You only stopped fighting when the Wight you were fighting dropped without anyone harming it. Exhausted, you stumbled back, falling against Jaime.

“We’ve won?” You said, breathing heavily.

“I think so,” Jaime said back. You let out a small laugh and turned to embrace your brother. He hugged back and after you let go, you saw Sandor walking towards you.

“Oh thank the gods! You’re alright!” You said, walking towards him as well.

There was a smile on your face and before you knew it, Sandor had swept you into his arms and was kissing you like he was never going to see you again. After a moment, you started kissing back, the initial surprise over. When Sandor felt you reciprocating, he snaked one hand down to your waist and the other to your cheek.

Sandor stopped the kiss and put his forehead to yours, breathing deeply. Your eyes were still closed and when you felt him start to move away, you grabbed his arms and stopped him.

“[Y/n], I—“

“I love you,” you blurted, interrupting him.

“What?” He had a look of bewilderment on his face and you giggled.

“I love you, Sandor Clegane. I have for a long time.”

He said nothing and pulled you in for another kiss. You could feel the smile on his face and you couldn’t keep one off of yours either.

“I love you too,” Sandor muttered.

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goonlalagoon · 3 years

Text

The stars must look on forever || Second Star to the Left

Bell Summers is supposed to be minding three Scouts.

Three months in, Gwendolyn Hartley hasn’t answered a single one of their calls, and all they can think is maybe I already failed. When the comms finally spark to life, they almost fall off of their chair in relief even as they snap accusing protocol down the line because it’s better than saying thank god thank god thank god you’re alive thank god you’re okay to a stranger.

It’s a thought that will repeat.

Read on Ao3

(Spoilers through to end of ep. 10 below)

Stars are beautiful, but they may not take an active part in anything, they must just look on for ever. It is a punishment put on them for something they did so long ago that no star now knows what it was.

- J.M. Barrie Peter Pan

When they receive the data packet detailing their three assigned scouts, Bell spends the whole night curled up reading through every detail, narrating key details to Gigo. They’ll read it all again in the morning, and again a few weeks later, and again the night before landfall, until they’ve memorised it - the scant personal details, names and pronouns and birthdates, the more detailed medical records (you can’t monitor someone’s physical condition without knowing the baseline, without knowing that Mikail mustn’t eat tomatoes and the schedule for when Hartley has to do regular maintenance on her prosthesis), the dense reports on what’s known of their destination planets. They use up highlighters and scrawl on post it notes.

Strictly, it isn’t Bell’s job to know the first thing about the planets beyond the elevator summary, but they were a scout before they were a minder. The structure of the dossier hasn’t changed a bit, and they absorb it all. They don’t know what they missed, on their failed expedition, but they won’t let it happen again. They can’t.

Priyanka isn’t a surprise; they knew that strings were being pulled specifically to line them up to be the assigned minder for Pri’s mission, because Pri’s uncle knew that if it came down to it Summers would burn every tenuous bridge they’d managed to rebuild to get her off the planet, and damn the consequences. They’re all so, so proud of Pri for getting through training, for being clever enough and strong enough and driven enough to make it, and they’re so worried too. Bell would burn any bridges, of course they would, but not every danger has enough of a time window to drag resources into place.

Mikail on paper seems promising - when his comms unit splutters into life as he’s speeding through the stars, months into the first year of expected isolation, he seems promisingly eccentric. He’s a cheerful rambler to Pri’s quiet snark, chattering about the reading he’s doing and the experiments he ran on the side back in training. They listen, gauge his wellbeing and start the slow work of building up trust, and try to ignore the smile tugging at their lips. This burring curiosity would serve him well, they think in the early days, exploring and studying and mapping out a whole new planet, so long as it didn’t kill him. It was their job to make sure it didn’t, that he remembered to eat and sleep and build proper shelters. That he remembered he couldn’t live off of curiosity and scientific glee alone.

Hartley doesn’t respond at all.

Bell checks all of the reports they can, to see if the signal is disrupted or there’s any suggestion that there’s been a technical issue, but everything shows up as working. They can see readouts of Hartley’s vitals, pulse rate and oxygen levels, so they know she’s alive. Probably. If one thing has gone wrong with the shuttle, who knows what other bizarre glitches may have cropped up.

They tell themselves that everything is fine, that there must just be a wire loose in the radio unit or, much more likely, Hartley has just decided that she doesn’t need a scout-minder and wants to go solo, has decided that Summers is an unnecessary and patronising addition to the mission. They submit false reports on Hartley’s well being, because they have absolutely no issue with lying to their superiors when they know the consequences for revealing that one of their three scouts has gone radio silent before even making landfall.

They talk to Pri and Mikail regularly, review condition reports on all three of them, ping Hartley every day and get no response.

They tell themselves that everything is fine.

Bell Summers is supposed to be minding three Scouts.

Three months in Gwendolyn Hartley hasn’t answered a single one of their calls, and all they can think is maybe I already failed. When the comms finally spark to life, they almost fall off of their chair in relief even as they snap accusing protocol down the line because it’s better than saying thank god thank god thank god you’re alive thank god you’re okay to a stranger.

It’s a thought that will repeat.

Retrieving your scout bot hadn’t been a tradition for Bell’s local program. They wonder if it’s one that other programs have, or if it’s just Hartley’s program, one of the small, unofficial differences that most of the time no-one ever knows about. It’s not like scouts regularly get the chance to compare notes outside of their cohort.

If they kept to their class promise, Pri and Mikail had been familiar enough with their minder after three months to not inform them of where they were going - neither of them were in the habit of thinking aloud to their bots, either, which would have made it easier to hide that they weren’t strictly following protocol. Gwen was defiantly independent, uncaring of her unexpected monitoring, and Bell wanted to cheer her on and reign her in at the same time.

They guess most places have a tradition or two, some secret pact amongst scouts who are pointing themselves out to the stars and seeing where they land. Something to tether you, when you set foot on a new planet and know you’re on your own, something that ties you back to the people you left behind. Bell takes a moment to be grateful that their pact hadn’t been quite so risky; instead of venturing out into the unknown before even setting up a shelter, they had sworn to wake up early, ignoring all the schedules and warnings and automated messages prompting them to get their full six hours - find somewhere high and climb up to watch the first sunrise on planet.

They’d scraped the skin off their palms clambering to their highest point, winced as they cradled the thermos they’d carried up with them and the warmth stung the broken skin. The ground had been damp, seeping through the seat of their trousers, a bite to the air that made their nose run, but they’d done it. They’d pointed Gigo in the right direction to record the sight, this first dawn over a new horizon, the first day of their new life.

Despite everything that happened, the nightmare things had turned into, the bitter taste on the back of their throat whenever they think back to the way it had gone, it’s a memory that brings a smile to their face even as they scold. It’s a memory that they might not have thought to be precisely worth it, if they’d known at the start what they’d learned by the end, but it’s a memory they cling to all the same.

They can’t help but be a little glad that there’s some kind of tradition for Gwen, too, even as they worry aloud about structures and protocols and whether Hartley is going to have the shelters up in time.

The shelters have air filtration built in, have temperature regulation, and are designed to withstand the harshest of conditions. If everything turns to dust, they think the shelters will keep their scouts alive for long enough to find a solution.

They direct all three of their scouts to build an emergency beacon, the one deviation from the protocols that Bell told themselves at the start that they’d not only permit but encourage - no, insist upon.

The union had fought so hard for assigned minders, for check ins on alternate days and a reliable source of human contact, citing studies of mental well-being and the importance of support networks, but it all went one way. Bell would call their three charges every other day, talk to them or listen in as they went about their business for the mandated four hours, and review any data packets the scouts copied them into when they were sent out to home office - to monitor for adhesion to proper protocol, for signs of strain, and for their own scientific curiosity. The scouts would answer the call, update them, then be stuck waiting a day and a half for the next call. If there was an emergency, they would have no way to reach out, to ask for help.

If something happened, Bell wouldn’t know until they tried to call and no-one answered.

The beacons meant that the scouts could at least ping them, a request for contact that would tell Bell to drop everything and grab their headset. With a few quick instructions, the beacon could be altered - honestly, any of the scouts probably knew enough engineering to figure it out themselves - so that it wasn’t locked to just the one frequency.

If there was an emergency, if their scouts were let down by all official channels, Bell wanted them to be able to reach out to anyone else who might listen, to have the choice to burn their own bridges for the sake of living. They thought, sometimes, that if it had just been them they wouldn’t have called on the smugglers, but they wouldn’t ask the same of these three scouts; looking through the dossiers, curled into a narrow bunk on a half decrepit station, Bell had already known that they’d beg them to do whatever it took to survive.

It’s not even that they’re that much younger than Bell - only a few years their junior - but they seem it. They seem so painfully young, practically children for all that they’re in their twenties. Still caught in the excitement of it, lost children pointing themselves at the stars and planning to map it all by hand.

Bell had been that young, once, before everything - before they spent years alone on a planet, before they were told your lives aren’t worth saving and turned around to save them anyway, before all of the ongoing consequences of that choice drove the knife that much deeper.

What are you going to do if something goes wrong? snipes scout Hartley, her first day on planet as she’s standing on shaky legs, leaning on Boots because she managed to get bitten by something venomous on her little jaunt into the undergrowth. Listen?

Bell splutters something back, because they know how useful this can be - someone to talk to, someone to do research when you’re stuck, knowing that someone picked up the phone and heard you out. Knowing that someone out there will notice, if you disappear for good.

They don’t sleep well, staring at the ceiling over their bunk, thinking. They know it can help - they know they can help, that Hartley would probably be a lot more inclined to listen if she knew that her minder had walked this road themselves - but they can’t hide from the harsh truth.

If it comes to it, if one of these three scouts finds themselves trapped in an apocalypse, sends up a beacon to say it’s all falling apart and I have no way out - all they can do is listen, and hope it’s enough.

Priyanka falls ill, and they don’t notice.

Pri has been important to them for years, but they’ve never been close, exactly. They know each other mostly from stories shared by Pri’s uncle, and there’s a level of familiarty that you don’t get from those kinds of tales, from a few months’ worth of regular check ins. Hartley notices, sees something amiss between the lines of the letters Pri sends her, and she does the only thing she can, flags it to their shared scout-minder - she does the only thing she can and speaks up, hoping that someone will listen.

Bell wonders, later, once Gwen has been proven terribly right, if maybe this is the first time that Hartley has thought of their presence as anything other than an annoyance. Pri, once she got over the change in expectations, had been glad to have a semi-familiar presence on the line, someone who she could trade family gossip with when she felt like it and had worked out an agreement with for the time when she didn’t want to bother with conversation, and Mikail had been cheerful enough from the start to have someone to talk to about all his ideas and findings, but Hartley had always seemed - resentful, maybe, like having Bell shatter her solitude was unwelcome, for all that she seemed to agree with the union on the practicalities of providing a life line of contact.

Pri fell ill, and Bell didn’t notice.

They remind themselves, over and over, that it hadn’t been obvious. Gwen, Mikail and Pri had studied together for years, lived in each other’s pockets as they made the same harsh choice to leave everything they knew behind with no guarantee they’d ever be able to get any of it back. It makes sense that Gwen had seen something Bell didn’t, they know it makes sense, but they can’t keep from going back over every report, replaying every conversation, trying to pick up the hints of a change that they hadn’t seen.

What else would they miss?

They lose Mikail to a storm, nothing but static when they try again and again to call. Bell hunches over their monitor in their tiny cubicle, punching buttons with fingers that want to shake, hoping that if they try just once more it will go through. They’d known the risks, all of them, of course they had, but -

This was what they’d feared most, when they took the job. If a planet collapsed, if it came to it, they had strings they could pull with the smugglers, had learned already where they drew the line. The worst news they’d expected to have to deliver would have been bad news, the settlement office doesn’t care about you at all and won’t cough up any of their copious spare change to save you, but good news I’ve got some friends on their way, so sit tight and keep the line open. But they’d known the statistics for scout missions; they’d known that they’d be stuck on one end of a line through accidents, through unforeseen dangers.

Bell had wondered, on sleepless nights, what they would do if they called one of their scouts and got nothing in return. They’d thought they would have gotten used to it, what with Hartley turning off all comms for literal months before they finally made contact, but this was different. At least with the shuttles they’d had the readouts, vital signs and tracking, to guess that things were probably okay.

Mikail was just gone, and they thought about what Gwen had told them, what Mikail had never mentioned directly for all his endless chatter - of all the scouts, of all the planets, they’d sent the one who hated water and despised swimming to a place he couldn’t escape the sea.

They had never met their scouts, but they had seen them in photos. There hadn’t been pictures included in their briefing information because it wasn’t necessary, but Bell had wanted a mental image of the people they were speaking to, so they’d looked up the relevant records in the system. Pri they’d seen in pictures before, shared by a proud uncle, but Gwen and Mikail had just been names with attached heights and weights until they called up the photos attached to their official IDs.

It meant they could imagine - Mikail, on his island, frowning at the waves and smiling at his scans. Mikail, caught in the water, washed away in a storm surge - they see it, over and over, whenever they try to sleep.

The beacon pinging them is so unexpected that they think for a moment they may be dreaming. They’d thought it too late, that everything must have been washed away along with their scout, but here he is reaching out to them. The emergency, against protocol backdoor channel that they’d insisted on was doing its job, and they were so glad. They drop everything, as promised, as planned, and when Mikail’s voice come through their headset they bury their face in their hands, even while they fight to keep their voice even.

What else had they missed? Pri, poisoned by something in the air that crept into her system and twisted her brain in circles. Mikail had been quietly studying an alien species without mentioning it, had learned enough to make a call that they wish he didn’t feel he had to make.

They lose Mikail to the sea, after all.

That he was choosing to dive and keep swimming helped, but they lose him all the same.

Gwen’s planet lights itself on fire, and all they can do is listen.

They wonder, somewhere in the midst of the panic they’re fighting not to allow to bleed through into their voice, if this is some kind of punishment. If this is another penalty, some kind of justice, you let your settlers down and now you have to be stuck watching, always watching and never able to do anything useful.

They’d been stuck listening as Pri struggled to diagnose the changes to her own brain, to the silence on the end of the line when Mikail was swept away, to the quiet certainty of his decisions after that. They’re stuck listening once more as Gwen runs back into the oncoming fire to get their maintenance kit, because if she leaves it behind there’s little enough point surviving anyway.

They don’t know who they think it’s a punishment from, and they don’t voice the thought because they know it isn’t, really. They do. Bell knows, as well as anyone, that knowing someone is listening even if there’s nothing to be done can mean everything.

But it seems like so little, one hand clutching the edge of their wobbly desk in their narrow cubicle to ground themselves, pressing their headset closer to their ear like that will somehow help, like being a millimetre closer to the ear-piece can make a difference to Gwen as she tries to outrun a wildfire. It seems like so little, to be able to only promise to pass on any messages that Gwen wants, to swear they won’t stop until they’re delivered, if they’re the last words Gwen ever gets to say.

It seems like so little, and that’s before they learn the truth, learn that Peter will never read any of the letters.

Peter has been dead the whole time, and later Bell will think they should have guessed - neither Mikail or Pri had mentioned him much at all, even when Mikail had been listing off who he wished he could talk to about his decision, the limited handful of people who he wanted to be told the truth if it was safe to. Gwen had never shared a single snippet of a letter from Peter, for all she repeated gossip about her sister and stories from her other friends on their own missions, and Bell thinks they should have guessed from that alone rather than assuming it was just too private.

They hadn’t - they hadn’t thought they knew everything about Hartley, of course they hadn’t, but Gwen narrated her day to Boots and, by extension, Bell whenever they called. They’d thought that Gwen was the one they weren’t missing anything from - no unrecognized illness, no secret alien encounters.

Just a grief they hadn’t known she was carrying, a loss she was still learning to live with.

They think maybe they know, now, why Gwen had been so reluctant to have a voice in her ear, that first day, setting out to rescue a scout bot she’d sworn to retrieve. Why it had mattered so much that this was her first achievement, once her boots touched the ground of that alien planet for the first time.

Gwen’s planet is burning and neither of them know what she’ll have left in the world when it dies down, so Bell does the only thing they can and tries to fill the uncertain silence with a story to hold on to.

When Amelia lays out gleeful threats, promises of justice, it’s Gwen that Bell calls.

Their head has been spinning since they hacked into the archives - they’d bought into the conspiracy theory, somehow, half convinced themselves there was a big reason for what had happened, something that would answer all the questions they’d lived with for years. Something that could ease the burden of guilt on their shoulders and caught at the back of their throat.

Well, they had their answer: a skipped scan. A check they forgot, let slide because they were busy, a protocol they set aside to juggle other things - yet another warning sign they’d missed.

Gwen insists otherwise, points out the ways they can’t be blamed, the way they wouldn’t blame any of their scouts if positions were changed. Points out that maybe it wasn’t a conspiracy, but there’s still something dodgy going on. There’s still something here - in the way these records are hidden, restricted, when they should be public record.

If there was nothing here more damning than the record of what Bell missed and the price their settlers paid - it would be a cautionary tale, something held up in class for the overconfident new scouts: here’s why you should stick to protocol, kids, even when it seems pointless. This is why you can’t get complacent, get comfortable, can’t trust that after five years you know everything about your planet and you can relax.

But it’s hidden, and they refuse to let that stand. They’ve wondered, so often over the years, if being made to do nothing but listen helplessly is the punishment for whatever mistakes they made. They know that’s what their employers think, those in the know about their history, shaking their heads and murmuring about how at least this once-promising scout can put their training to use. Those that can do, do, and those that can’t, teach. Or, as the case may be, listen.

They listened, and they know that mattered.

They listened when Hartley raised concerns, pushed for scans and tests to uncover what was ailing Pri, what could be done to save her. They listened to Mikail when he begged to be declared dead, gone, pleaded for them to be the one to break his family’s hearts because he couldn’t stand to be the reason his planet and its people were destroyed. They listened to Gwen while her home burned, talked to her through the panicked flight and the post-adrenaline slump.

Sometimes all you can do is speak, and hope someone is listening.

Twenty years for the murder of someone still alive. There’s an irony there, but they’re not sure they appreciate the joke. Less for good behaviour, so they try to curb their tongue, suppress the urge to fix things and instead try to maintain a stoic silence when they want to stand up to anyone who thinks to shove them around.

After the first time they throw a punch in prison, because someone crosses a line and it’s all too much, because they can’t let it slide and still be them - it occurs to them, bandaging up bruised knuckles and wondering if they tell Gwen about this or try (and probably fail) to hide it, that it doesn’t matter.

They aren’t here because the people in charge really think they committed murder – no unbiased court could look at assembled an emergency beacon out of spare parts and scout who hated swimming drowned after his entire camp was destroyed in a massive storm and conclude that it was remotely related, let alone intentional: they’re here because when they were told the price of freedom was lying to – lying about - their settlers, denying their dead justice, they said not a chance in hell.

This isn’t a flawed attempt at justice, this is a punishment.

They won’t be allowed out early, even if they’re the perfect prisoner. They have to live with this, and if that means getting a few bruises and scraped knuckles - well. They’ve never been afraid of a fight, and they weren’t the best at following the rules even before they realised just how little anyone in power cared.

Gwen writes to them, and they can’t help checking in - are the crops growing, is her leg holding up, has she done her monthly environment scans (yes, yes, and of course, Bell) - all of the questions they had written out years ago to cover in regular check ins.

They wonder who has taken over as scout-minder, who’s talking Pri through her newfound challenges as best they can without stepping too much on her fiercely independent toes and trying to figure out the change in cadence that signifies Hartley has switched to talking to Boots rather than whoever is on the line. They wonder if anyone is trying periodically to ping Mikail, hoping against hope that this time he’ll answer, that by some miracle he survived (they wonder if he’s figured out how to get his own messages to Gwen, once he realised that conference calls had always been an option except for bureaucratic limitations)

They’re checking in, lists of questions and signs to watch out for briefed to them in advance, but they’d ask anyway, even if they’d never been told to ask.

This stopped being about making sure that the scouts who’d had so much money and time invested into them remained at optimum performance sometime around the first time the call connected and they were taken on a completely out of protocol wander through Gwen’s new home in search of a defunct scout bot and a new horizon.

They’ve come a long way, since the first long weeks of trying and failing to reach the third of their assigned scouts over the comms, since the first time Gwen picked up the call to discover that instead of an automated message she had a live - and somewhat irate - scout-minder waiting on the other end of the line.

Bell knows that there’s no point trying to call until the ship is in sight of the planet, that they won’t have the signal or the range to reach Gwen until it’s a matter of hours before they meet face to face. They try anyway, thinking with retrospective fondness of the first three months, calling a number that never picked up no matter how often they tried.

They wonder what’s going on, on planet.

This is the first time they’ve been out of contact from Gwen since the first relieved moment when a call went through, when Scout Hartley made landfall and resigned herself to turning the computer and all its notifications back on. Bell thought at the time that being stuck just listening was bad, but they never thought they’d have months with no contact at all, no way of knowing. Everything had seemed fine, and the settlement ship was en route, but they knew how quickly things could deteriorate.

Then again, Hartley had managed to coordinate a prison break remotely and apparently undetected despite using official comms channels to do it under the settlement offices’ collective noses. She was probably fine and managing to do a lot of impressive and yet wildly off protocol things that would delight and exasperate Bell in equal quantity.

Honestly, Bell would like to say they’re surprised that this is the kind of woman they fall in love with, but they’re not; they’re years past lying to themselves like that.

The planet comes into view, and they reach for their headset again. In a matter of hours, it won’t matter - neither of them will be stuck just listening, offering up ideas and research and stories to carry each other through, calling for help and hoping someone pays attention.

But for now, the comms unit splutters, Gwen’s voice filling the storage bay they’re illicitly camped out in, and Bell presses the headset closer to her ear like that will help them hear more clearly, will make it easier to know for sure that Gwen is really okay, unsuspected and untouched by the fallout.

I’ll see you on the ground, they promise, a distant star falling to the earth at last, and watch the horizon come into view.

#my writing #Second Star to the Left #SSTL #I had a lot of feelings at the end of this podcast okay #Very much recommend it if you haven't listened

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