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rancidpancakebatter · 1 year

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We Write the Story-[P.P.] | Chapter Two

Pairings: TASM!Peter Parker x (Black!)Hispanic!College!Female!Reader

Chapter Summary: The battle at Liberty begins after a trail down memory lane

Takes place during No Way Home

Word Count: 5.5k words

Content: Some superhero fighting, angst, language, mentions of death,

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A/N: This is yet another thing I found in my drafts. Chapter three has one paragraph written but two is done, so yay! As I said in the first chapter, this is very self-indulgent. I tried to put more focus on the reader being Hispanic than black but both are pretty relevant to my experience so there are some minor details that allude to the reader being black. I'm too lazy to edit them out. I hope you can understand.

Your anxiety continued a slow accent as the Spider-Men discussed their game plan. You were put on “babysitting duty,” instructed to watch over Michelle and Ned as they climbed through the portal to fight interdimensional villains.

You watched Peter’s live and felt a twinge of moroseness at his words. Even now, as he was trying to save New York, he accepted the cruelty it threw his way. The chemistry lab was quiet. You had all pulled up chairs at the entrance of the portal, silently watching- waiting. You had hugged Petey before he walked out, but it didn’t calm you as much as you had hoped. As you sat on this unstable wooden stool, your mind wandered to the past.

You remember when Petey first moved in. You were playing in the living room, your wooden puppet jumping as you jerked at the strings. Your father was in the kitchen, the smell of toasted tortillas and seasoned chicken wafting through the air. You liked flautas, but you preferred when your mom would make them. Your father was less familiar with the seasoning your mother would use; he stuck more to his Creole roots.

There was a knock at the door, but you remained unbothered. You and Señor Payaso were on a fabulous adventure, that you didn’t want to interrupt. They knocked again, and this time your father called out to you.

“Can you see who’s at the door, baby?”

You begrudgingly got up and pulled a chair over to the door. As you peeked through the peephole, you saw a familiar face, the sweet woman from across the hall. You liked her a lot. She always complimented your hair and all of your drawings. She was friends with your mother; when she died, the woman came over and cooked a lot, bringing her husband along. Mr Ben was nice too. He would put you on his shoulders and twirl you around.

You moved the chair and called out to your father, “It’s Ms May!”

You opened the door and let her in. She complimented your dress and asked about your day. You told her all about your new colouring book and left to get it for her. When you returned, she was talking in hushed whispers with your dad. Their faces looked serious and sad, but when they saw you, they painted on a smile.

Your father beckoned you, and you happily clambered into his open arms. As he rested you on his hip, he moved some hair out of your face.

“Hey, honey. So, Ms May came over to ask if you would want to play with her nephew. He just moved in and he doesn’t have any friends.”

You looked at May, not fully understanding. “Why does he live with you? Where are his parents?”

Your father said your name in a warning tone and you were confused, but Ms May cut him off, “No, no, it’s okay.”

Her smile was kind and you loved when she smiled at you.

“He lost both of his parents, like how you lost your mom." She explains. "So now he lives with me. He’s very scared, and I was hoping maybe you could hang out with him. You were so brave and it might be nice for Peter to have someone he can talk to about all of this.”

You thought about it for a moment. You couldn’t imagine what you would have done if you had lost both of your parents. You missed your mom a lot; Peter must be feeling that double. You liked Mr and Mrs Parker a lot, so you supposed you would like their nephew too.

“Okay." You agreed, "Does he have a favourite toy? Does he like to colour?”

May told you he would love to colour with you, so you rushed back to your room and grabbed all of your colouring books and three boxes of crayons, just in case. When you returned to the living room, you declared that you were ready to go. You walked across the hall with your father’s hand on your back instead of in your hand as they were very full.

As you walked in, you looked around but only saw Mr Ben. He spoke to the adults while you sat on the couch. You couldn’t hear everything they said, but you caught some of it. Their whispers swirled together and you couldn't tell who said what.

“-in his room”

“I don’t know”

“Thanks”

“He’s just so young”

Your stomach twisted. You remember hearing similar things said about you not so long ago. You hated when the adults around you tried to relate to what you were feeling. You didn’t even understand what you were feeling. You didn’t care what they had to say; you just wanted your mom. There was no one your age to talk to. No friends who got it. You didn’t want Ms May’s nephew to go through that.

You made your way up the stairs, deciding you would find him yourself. You saw an open door and peeked inside. There was a small bed and a lot of boxes in the room. It looked half-unpacked, not really a “room”.

“Hello?” You tried.

There was a scuffling sound but no response.

You walked in and looked around, “Are you Ms May’s nephew?”

You were looking at your feet, careful not to step on anything, when you noticed a pair of eyes under the bed. You set your colouring stuff down and lay on your stomach. He shimmied back some.

“Hi, I’m (Y/n). I’m your neighbour, do you want to play?” He didn't respond, just continued to stare at you.

“Tu hablas español?” Still he said nothing.

“Okay…I’ll just speak both.” You muttered, setting up the colouring supplies.

“Tengo crayons y colouring books, pero si quieres jugar something else podemos.” You began to colour, leaving a stack for him to choose from and the other boxes of crayons at the entrance of the bed.

You silently coloured for a while before you saw a small hand reach forward. He remained under the bed as you heard him flipping through pages. Soon enough, the adults came through the door. They were each surprised by what they saw.

“Where’s Peter?” Mr Ben asked.

You pointed under the bed, continuing to draw.

Ms May laid next to you, “Come on, Peter. Why don’t you come out and play? (Y/n)’s really nice, I promise.”

You shook your head, speaking to the shadows. “No tienes que salir if you don’t want to.”

Ms May looked at you with a question on her brow, one you recognised on adults by now. The "Why are you speaking Spanish?" look. Sometimes it was because you didn't look like your mom, and sometimes it was because they didn't know what you were saying. But you knew her's wasn't mean; Ms May was just curious.

“He hasn’t answered to Spanish or English. I don’t know what he speaks,” You replied with a shrug.

Mr Ben chuckled, “He doesn’t speak Spanish. I think he’s just shy, but thank you for trying.”

They eventually left you be, and you continued to colour. Peter still hadn’t left his hiding spot, but you could hear him scribbling across the page.

“I lost my mom,” You say in an effort to connect. “She got really sick, it happened a few months ago.”

He had stopped colouring, the only sound in the room coming from you and the switching of crayons.

“Grown-ups try to say stuff they think is nice. They tell you they’re sorry. Or they’ll say something like ‘you’re brave’. It’s annoying. I used to hide too.”

You heard him shuffle. He had crawled forward just enough that you could see his face emerging from the shadows, “Do you wanna come in?”

You wriggled in next to him, and he pushed the book he was working on between you. You coloured on opposite pages sharing a box of crayons between you. He used a lot of outlandish colours, his giraffe looking more like an alien than anything you’d seen at the zoo. You focused on your parrot. You passed a lot of time this way.

“How you say, ‘thank you’ in Spanish?”

You were excited to hear his voice again, “Gracias.”

“Gracias, (Y/n)”

He was so small and so scared. Everything he knew had been ripped away from him. You couldn’t help but think he was going through the same thing, only this time he couldn’t hide under his bed. He had to save the world.

You thought of all the times Petey had to be brave. You thought of all the times he didn’t. Like when you watched a horror movie for the first time, and he made you stay up with him all night because he was convinced that something was gonna come out of the closet as soon as he closed his eyes.

You thought of how nervous he was to ask Liz to the homecoming dance- how you had to coach him through it. You thought of how he would trip over himself anytime he talked to her. You thought of how he was just as nervous about asking out MJ. He would text you the whole trip about it (and also some of the Spider-Man stuff, but mostly MJ).

You thought about how kind and sweet he was. An absolute treasure. Petey would speak to you in Spanish if you were alone, knowing that it was a special thing to you, something that kept you connected to your mother. He had learned it through you, but also by studying on his own, surprising you every now and then with all he knew.

You thought about how he had learned to do simple braids in your hair. You had complained about how long it would take to do, and Petey stayed up all night watching youtube tutorials and practising on May. The next day he showed up with a rat-tail comb and a bag of rubber bands, ready to help.

You thought about how he and May would practice making dishes that you grew up with to surprise you for “family” dinner.

Actually, no. Family dinner. No quotes necessary. They were your family. They were all you had, and they were wonderful.

They were your family. Now it’s just Petey. Petey who is currently broadcasting his location so that he can fight a bunch of psychos who would not hesitate to kill him.

You stand abruptly, surprising the not-so-much kids beside you. You rush through the portal and ignore their calls for you to return. You can’t, not now. The Spider-Men hear the commotion and quickly group together. As you turn the corner, Petey’s face is wild with concern.

“(Y/n), You can’t be here-”

You cut him off with a hug. You pull him as close as you can, and don’t hesitate you crush him with all of your strength. He lets out a small “oof” as you accidentally push all the air out of his body. Tears silently fall from your eyes, and Petey finally reciprocates.

“(Y/n), You have to go back. It’s not safe.”

You make no effort to distance yourself, instead mumbling into his chest. “Don’t die.”

Petey pulls you away enough to see your face, “I’m not gonna die.”

Your face twists in anger but he knows it’s not for him. “You will come back to me. In one piece. Or so help me god, these a-holes are gonna wish you had kicked their ass instead.”

A small smile spreads on his face, “I know. I will. No voy a ir a ninguna parte, lo prometo.”

You wipe at your face and Petey chuckles. He’s trying to cheer you up. Even now, Petey is trying to keep you happy, like always.

“Besides, todo el mundo sabe que tengo la hermana más aterradora que hay. Cualquiera que se cruce contigo sería un pinche supido hijo de puta.” It wasn’t perfect but you grasped the message.

You gasped in faux horror, “Aye Petey, Quién te enseñó eso?”

Peter only laughed, “You did. You curse more in Spanish than in English. Which is crazy 'cause you have the foulest language I’ve ever heard.”

You slap his arm, and he pretends it hurt. You glance around and lose your breath. You could see all of New York from here. The city glistened against the deep ocean, the lights dancing across the rolling waves. It was breathtaking. Movement over to your left catches your attention and your eyes landed on Peter. He was leaning against the railing with his arms stretched out while talking to Pete. When you looked, he quickly turned his head, but he was looking at you. Petey chuckled, breaking you from your trance. Man, maybe your attraction was obvious.

“I’ll send him over,” Petey says with a smirk.

You scold, telling him not to, but he was already shouting for Peter.

As he sauntered up, Petey sent you a wink, patting his multiversal counterpart on the shoulder as he passed. Peter looked at you with a playfully confused look. His brows were slightly furrowed but his grin was unmistakable.

“So, what’s up?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. He was so flippant about this whole multiversal mayhem. But also he made you a little nervous, and you were laughing through your flustering.

“Oh, I was just uh- you know...givin’ the whole ‘Don’t Die’ speech before battle. You know how it is.” Peter’s face fell a little sombre, giving you the impression he knew all too well.

He played along, not wanting to address the severity of the situation. You both knew; there was no reason to loll in it. He nodded his head a few times before his arms folded crossed his chest and his head tilted to the side, a soft smile taking over his face.

“So, do I get one?”

You smiled, “Peter Parker. I will be very upset if you die. Don’t do it or I’ll come kill you myself.”

He chuckled, the sound of a sweet song. “Sounds like a lose-lose, I don’t think I’m getting a fair deal.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah? Well, how about this: If you die, no date.”

It was risky, but what did you have to lose? Pete’s words had been on your mind more than you would care to admit. Everything you once knew had been flipped on its head. Maybe there was a chance, maybe he was the right one. But did it matter? It’s completely possible that this man will evaporate from this world in an hour. What harm was there in flirting with him? He was nice with a kind smile, and it felt good to be looked at like that. Like you were something to behold.

Your words seem to surprise him. A deep, thunderous laugh ripped from his chest. It was a delightful sound. One you wanted to hear more often. His hand flew to his heart as he took a step back as if blown away. He looked at you with an amused glimmer in his eye and a grin that split his face. He was the perfect embodiment of "boyish charm."

“Now, the stakes are high,” He teased.

It’s safe to say you were freaking out. You stood at the mouth of the portal, its fizzling crackle a static that you had become accustomed to. MJ held the magic-cube-thing as you tried to keep the both of them calm, coaching Ned to breathe deep and focus. You could hear the zaps of electricity flying through the air, bright flashes of light shocking out the shadows in the dark room. Everything got cloudy for a moment, and you recognised this dust storm as Flint’s arrival. Everyone was showing up fast, and you should have been miles away, but with the portal open, you were nowhere close to safe.

A loud crash echos out and startles a scream out of the kids. You gently shush them, not wanting any unwanted attention. You were working through a plan, an escape route. You loved Petey, but he wasn’t very good with backup plans, and this was a perfect example.

You heard heavy steps and spun to look through the Portal. The talking lizard was stalking towards you.

“Hey! Hey! We gotta go!”

The kids follow your gaze and their eyes widen in fear. You grab the box from MJ and start pushing them in front of you. The Lizard has landed in the room and is throwing tables and chairs.

You make it to the doors and point down the hall, “You guys run to the cafeteria, watch each other’s backs and hide!”

They hesitantly run, glancing at you periodically over their shoulders. You look behind you, and the lizard is trained on your hand. You wave the box, “Come on, big boy, this way!”

He rears his head back and lets out a gut-wrenching roar. You push through the door and into the hall. Your footsteps echo in the dark, empty corridors. You hadn’t necessarily liked high school, but the dreadful memories did nothing to relieve the creepy atmosphere. You could hear his talons cut into the metal lockers around you as he got closer. You whipped your head around to confirm your suspicions. You felt nauseous as you saw his yellowed teeth bared at you.

You swung a sharp left into the library. You ducked under a table and crawled quietly in the dark. As the creature broke through the doors you heard him stop. You could hear a subtle growl leave his throat, sharp breaths as he sniffs around the room. You reach the wall and grab a book off the shelf. You can see his feet as he walks across the floor. Your heart is beating in your chest as he gets closer. His tail swings in front of you, working side to side. You take a steady breath and throw the book into the corner behind you.

He roars and charges at the sound. You make a break towards the lined shelves while he’s distracted. You silently hoped the books you heard being decimated would accept your apology, that they would understand. There’s a door on the other side, it will put you in the hallway right across from the gym. You didn’t like the idea of a big open space, but maybe you could hide if you could make it to the bleachers. It’s the best idea you have right now.

The Lizard had begun throwing the tables you were hiding under before. It wouldn’t be long until he started destroying the shelves too. You crouched down and made your way to the door, pushing it open with shaky hands and closing it as softly as you could. You entered the gym and looked around. You spotted the supply room and tried the handle.

It was locked, “shit!”

You could still hear the library being ransacked. Your only way in was to break the window. You knew it would make a lot of noise, but you had to arm yourself with something. You raise the box and bring it down as hard as you can. The glass shatters and you hear a roar erupt in the building. You ball your hand up in your sleeve and push through the glass wiggling the handle. You grab a bat by the door and a football flag that was hanging on the wall. You hear stomping in the hallway and panic. Well- more so than you were before.

The bleachers were pulled out and you thanked whatever deity might have been watching over you. You find a gap in the bars and squeeze your way through. Just then The lizard kicks in the heavy metal doors. You fall back into the shadows and watch through the space between the seats as he makes his way to the middle of the floor. You try to tame your shaking hands, knowing there was nothing you could do with the adrenaline coursing through your body.

You place the bat between your legs and tie the box to a belt loop on the back of your jeans, that way you can have two hands to swing. You tried to remember everything you knew about the creature in front of you, anything that may give you an upper hand. You remembered him talking about “healing the world.” Apparently, this “enhancement” mutated his genes and he had faster healing and was super strong. He was also a man-eating lizard. And you were just a poor college student from Queens.

Suddenly he stopped, his head turned towards you as he continued to sniff the air around him. A sneer besmeared his face, his eyes opened and it seemed he was looking right at you.

“There you are...” his nauseating voice drew out.

He charged forward and you screamed. His claws reached through the slits and pried at them. He got his arm through and swiped; you fell back as you narrowly dodged them. He continued with that for a while before he abandoned the approach. His yellow eyes glared at you through the gap he had created before growling. He must have grown up watching Dora too. If you can’t go through, you can't go above it, if you can’t go under it, you have to go around it. He backed away and bounded towards the bars you had slipped through. You ran to meet him there, to hopefully hold him off.

He reached his hand through and you swung at it. It didn’t seem to deter him. The response was more like someone playfully pushing your hand away from their plate, as opposed to a twenty-something swinging a metal bat at full force. He reached for you again but this time he caught your bat in his claws. It shredded the barrel, the metal blossoming out at jagged angles. You could work with that.

You brought it over your head and aimed at his arm. He reared back as the metal cut through his scales. You could hear the fury in his scream, your blood ran cold at the sound. You watched as the flesh slowly melded back together, soon the damage was erased. It hit you then, you were truly no match. He brought his hand back up and sliced through the barrier of bars, bending them with little effort to push through. You took steps back as he got closer. He was hunched down, unable to stand in this space. You were trapped if you couldn’t find a way out.

At the other entrance, you saw a fire extinguisher. You rushed to grab it, pulling the pin and aiming it directly at him. You felt the metal bars against your back. He let out another roar and you pulled on the trigger. Foam flew through the air and the smell of compressed CO2 made you dizzy. You threw it and he caught it in his mouth, as his teeth punctured it white plumes billowed from the canister. While he was blinded you tried to squeeze through the bars. In his thrashing, he caught you on the arm. His claws felt like a blade, cutting through you easily.

You cried out as you collapsed on the floor. Rolling over, you pushed yourself up, ignoring the searing pain in your bicep. Your bat was long gone and you were on your own. You made your way to the middle of the gym, trying to plan your next escape. You heard the grating noise you hate to say you knew, he had slashed through the other set of bars. You sympathised with the groan the metal released as it was bent and twisted against its will.

His horrid eyes fell on you again and you turned to run. He gets down on all fours and breaks into a sprint, he's gaining on you (Shia Leboeuf). Your body hurts and all this running is pumping blood, you’re getting woozy from the loss. You trip and hit the ground hard; you feel disoriented. You start crawling forward, hoping to put enough distance between you.

Just then a loud crash rings through the gymnasium. You turn your head to see The Lizard slammed into the bleachers, the seats folding around him under the weight. Something flew across the room and soon a cloud of green smoke enveloped the space. You heard footfall quickly approaching you and curled in on yourself; your brain unable to catch up with the chaos of the situation.

“Hey, hey, It’s okay. It’s just me.” His gloves caught on the cotton of your ribbed top.

You slowly opened your eyes and they fell upon shining stars; chocolate and autumn leaves and everything sweet in the world. His jaw was set, strong enough to cut diamonds. His lips looked velvety and decadent; though they sagged heavily at the end, his distress evident in his frown.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? I smell blood.” He quickly questioned.

You motioned that you wanted help up, but instead of offering you his hand, he scooped you up in his arms. Your stomach fluttered at the act, the gentleness he was showing you. You were pressed tightly against him, you could feel the rise and fall of his chest.

You took a shaky, flustered breath. “I’m fine. El cabrón caught me in the arm, but I’ll be okay.”

He took notice of the way you were holding your arm and shifted you to take a better look. He curled you like he was using you to train his biceps, pushing your chest into his. His eyes grew as he looked over your wound.

“It’s okay. You’re- you’re gonna be okay.” He reassured.

He was breathing heavily. You thought before that it was from exertion, but the panic in his eyes was one you recognised.

“Yeah, I know.”

Your words fell on deaf ears as he continued to mumble; repeating that you would be fine like he was trying to manifest it in truth.

"Peter, Hey. Listen to me, I’m okay.”

He shook his head, breaking his trance, and then finally looked back at you. “Let’s get you out of here.”

You met everyone out on the scaffolding; Lady Liberty had seen better days. Peter had finally set you down, and he had used your mangled sleeve to wrap around your cut. As you stepped through the portal it closed behind you. You glared at the spot it used to occupy.

“Por qué no hiciste eso antes, huh?”

You heard your name called out from behind you and as you tuned you were knocked back by the strength of your two-out-of-three of your favourite teens. You held them close, happy to be in their embrace- relieved that they were safe. They talked over each other, spewing their concern and everything that had happened while you were separated. As Ned spoke he flailed his hands, sparks flew from his fingers and with a flourish of his wrist he accidentally opened a portal.

You threw the kids behind you, waiting for whatever may emerge. To your surprise, Dr Strange stepped forward. He whipped his hand and the box flew from your waist. You all protested: a series of ‘wait’s and ‘no’s leaving your mouths.

“Where is he?”

“Before you do anything Mister- Dr Strange, sir,” Ned pleads. “Peter’s plan is working!”

You all nod adamantly as he eyes your group sceptically, “What plan?”

“He’s curing them!” Ned explains, pride dripping from his words.

You pointed to the corner. There sat an older man who looked a little ridiculous dressed in some gym shorts and a mesh, orange jersey for flag football. Strange stepped forward to get a better look.

“Who’s that?” He asks, his tone losing its previous hostility.

“That’s Dr Connors, the giant lizard,” MJ supplies as the man in question gives a tentative wave.

The wizard looks between the reformed man and your odd group a few times before he slowly nods his head, “Well, I’ll be damned.”

He walks off and you grow nervous. You hope he can see the vision, that he lets Petey do this. He’s sacrificed so much, It would be a shame to see his victory ripped away from him. You watch as the three of them swing around, their synchronization mesmerizing to you. It was almost beautiful. If not also death-defying and frightening.

But the little fear you felt grew tenfold, at an exponential rate. Over the horizon, you saw a flying figure approaching. Your blood ran cold and you can’t help the way your body starts to tremble.

You quickly turn to Ned, “Can you open a portal?”

He looks at you confused, his anxiety rising as he tries to understand why you’re upset. “No, Dr Strange took the ring back.”

You silently curse the old man and spin around, trying to find somewhere to run, when his nauseating voice rings through the sky, “Can the Spider-Man come out to play?!”

You freeze. His haunting cadence fills your ears, and you don’t know what to do. You think of his freakish, twisted smile as he gave his “We are gods” monologue. You could hear his sickening cackle as Peter beat in his face. You heard his taunting drawl as he choked Peter. You thought of how he had killed Ms May. The only mother you truly knew. You wondered if she was as scared as you were in her final moments. You couldn’t breathe; you couldn’t move. Completely frozen in fear.

You could vaguely hear Ned and MJ calling out to you, but the world was too far away from you now. It felt like your skin was melting off of you and your brain was spinning in your skull. He couldn’t be here. Petey couldn’t be here. He was dangerous. He wasn’t like the others, his only objective was wreaking havoc, and he had no remorse for the pain and suffering he dealt.

A loud boom erupts through the night air, a crescendo of collapsing metal and golden rings. You feel the scaffolding shake and see it falling apart around you. It gives way. Michelle panics as she starts to tip back and without thinking you pull her towards you. You watch as she grows smaller and smaller in your view, as everything gets further and further away. You hear a scream but don’t realise it’s yours, the sound leaving your lungs as the wind whips around you. Ned hangs from debris and you scold yourself for not protecting him better.

Your arms wave helplessly around you as your brain looks for something to grab onto. Suddenly Petey appears in your view. His face is battered and bruised, his eyes are trained on you. He looks aged, as if the last twelve hours have stolen what was left of his innocence. It was hard to watch him grow up, he was no longer your Little Petey. But this hurt more. Because this wasn’t him growing up, this was him falling apart.

He extends his hand to you and you reach for it. Your fingers brush against the cool metal of his nanotech before he’s ripped away, pinned to the front of the Goblin’s glider.

You hear a gut-wrenching cry from Peter as he was toted away, saw the defeat and rage in his eyes. You close your eyes and swallow back tears. You had never given much thought to how you would die. You were always so busy worrying about everything else. You worried about your father, you worried about May, you worried about Peter. You worried about your grades, you worried about your job, you worried about keeping your place clean. There was always so much to do, so much going on.

But as the end drew near, you still couldn’t think of you. Petey had lost so much and you hated to think you would be another boulder to carry. Another reason to grieve. You thought of all the milestones you would miss. He had always joked that you would one day be his best man, and he would be your maid of honour.

But you wouldn't be there for his wedding. You wouldn’t be there when he graduated from high school. You wouldn’t be there for his first hangover. You wouldn’t be there for his child’s first steps. You wouldn’t be there. You sent out an unguided wish, a silent prayer to anyone who might hear.

Please, let him be okay. Tell him that I love him, that he was the best friend, the best family, the best brother anyone could wish for. Tell him it’s gonna be okay.

You closed your eyes and let the tears slip. It was odd. They didn’t drip down your face, but floated up, as if not to stain you. You hoped the ground would be merciful, that your death would come swiftly. You imagined you were on the high dive at the pool you and Peter used to frequent in the summers. You were sailing into the deep waters, soon to be comforted by the chlorine and Petey’s cheers. You smiled.

Let me tell you, this depressive episode is going CRAZY, so again, I'm sorry for not posting as much and thank you for your patience. And I would like to reiterate, I am getting through it with the love and support of friends and medical professionals. I will eventually be okay, but I'm not now, and that's okay too. I hate to ask, but if you guys could leave some comments or nice words it would really mean a lot to me :))

Taglist: @actuallypeterparker, @alexa4040, @andrews-lovr, @barbecuetiddy, @cherriescherriesred25, @heejinw0rld, @ilovemoonknight, @Isshecrazyorissheclever, @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs, @negasonic-teenage-asshole, @preciousbabypeter, @princesskittycatofmeowland, @purple-amaranthe, @raajali3, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @tayswiftlovebot, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,

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georgiapeach30513 · 2 years

Text

Rumplestiltskin, Part 2

Summary: Set in the past and meeting Andy for the first time.

Pairings: Prince!Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: adorable

Warnings: flirting, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.5K

Series Masterlist

A/N: When @tis-thedamn-season asks to see some more of Prince Andy and Aurelia, I had to provide.

*dividers by @firefly-graphics

Your eyes focus out into the distance. Seeing Walter’s hoof paw at the ground, stepping closer to you than usual. It only meant one thing, company. Getting a bit of a sweat, because you were here alone. You fold your skirts tighter around the apples you’ve gathered. Clicking your teeth at Walter to lead him back to the cottage.

The new hoofs were beating on the ground. Whoever it was they were fast approaching. “Walter, come on buddy,” he blows a bit of air, ears pricking up, and he digs a hoof in the ground. “Your shoes were just changed, come on,” your only friend doesn’t budge, just looks through the clearing of the woods. “Walter, I’m not supposed to be out of the cottage. If father knows that,” your words trail off when you see a man in armor on a white horse.

Gulping, and trying not to stare at the handsome stranger. Abandoning Walter all together. Silly creature didn’t want to follow you. But it was too late, the newcomer had spotted you, “Miss? Miss? I need help.”

“The ferrier is out, you’ll have to come back,” your head points down to the ground as you try to ignore him.

Jumping off his horse he leads her to wherever you are. “Then maybe you could help me with something else. My horse is very tired. She could use some water, and possibly some hay. I see you have a well. Might I get some water?”

“You mean me no harm?” He shakes his head no, removing his sword, you lurch backwards, but he pushes it into the ground. Walter doesn’t even flinch. “That’s a fine sword. Who made it?”

“Your mother.”

“That’s not possible.”

“It was my father’s. Miss, the water?”

“Right, uh…take the horse to the barn. I need to put up these apples. I’m making an apple pie for my father,” the stranger hums in delight, walking his horse over to the barn as you nervously try and put the apples up. Giving the cottage a quick clean when you gather up some water for the man.

Leaving the comfort of the cottage you see that goofy horse looking into the barn watching everyone. “Silly creature,” you mumble before you walk in yourself. He had removed his shiny armor, and you could see the cords of his thick muscles. The care he gives to his horse has you smiling at him. His hands pet over her nose, and he had already given her hay.

“I took the liberties of getting her ready. I appreciate your kindness,” he turns back to look at you, and you notice just how blue his eyes are.

“Are you part of the King’s Guard?” You ask, handing over the bucket of water.

“You could say that,” he takes a long swig of the water, and streams of it flow down his chin, and onto his shirt. “The name’s Andy,” bashfully you give him your name. Your foot toeing the ground when he tells you it’s beautiful.

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls, Andy.”

“No, I don’t,” Walter blows out a raspberry, and nods at him. “I don’t. I think you are the first maiden I’ve seen in quite some time.”

“Why’s that?” Andy just shrugs at you, pouring the rest of the water over his body. “Sir?”

“It’s quite hot.”

“I can draw you a bath,” you want to slap yourself. A naked man in your cottage, while you were alone. You were being absurd. But the cute little smirk that comes from Andy has your own body heating up.

“You’re without a chaperone. Somehow I think the virginal daughter of a ferrier would not be suitable for that, no?” You shake your head no at him, and start to head back to the cottage. “I could bathe out here. The horse can stand guard,” Walter blows at Andy again, and takes a step back. “He’s quite protective of you. Where did you get him?”

“A traveler traded him for a lamb. I can’t carry the tub in here.”

“I shall do it then. I have been traveling for days. A bath, pie, and…?”

“Stew and fresh bread.”

“It sounds lovely. Thank you, Miss,” he follows you out to the cottage, grabbing that tub with him, and you can’t help but stare. He was beautiful. Sweat had caused the dust to settle on his skin, the closer you got you saw his faint freckles painted over his nose, and even good strong hands.

When Andy takes off his shirt, you notice how his back was immaculate. Hills and valleys of muscles, and his pants dangerously low on his hips. “Miss, we’re crossing an improper line here.”

“Of course. Walter?” Your horse goes to follow you, staying outside the kitchen window where you try not to stare. You promise yourself you’re going to make this pie and get it into the oven. Your father should return soon.

“Daughter,” your father asks you curiously, walking into the cottage, but his head faces towards the barn. “Who is here?”

“Andy.”

“Andy?” He lays down a few items that you had asked for before marching into the barn. You hadn’t ever seen him so angry before. There was determination etched on his face, as he watches Andy pull up a pair of his pants. “No.”

“Sir, I’m not sure what the meaning of this is. I am getting dressed. The lady of the house asked me to supper. I know my manners, clean at the dinner table,” he gives you father a wide smile, and he shakes his head no. “I would hate to pull rank on you. I am the Prince of Pomona, your future king.”

“And did you tell my daughter as much?” Andy looks down to the ground, ashamed he never explained who he was. “Of course not. You should leave.”

“I won’t be rude to the lady.”

“She’s no lady. She’s a peasant, and you are the future king. What are your intentions? Make her your concubine?”

“I’ve only met the girl. You mentioned her the last time I was here. I was curious. She is lovely, Tony. You should be proud. A woman of her beauty and kindness, and raised by a father. Do you want her to stay alone forever? Cooped up in this cottage in the middle of nowhere?”

“I want her to think rationally. No one in their right mind would grant you marriage to her. She needs to marry her own kind,” Andy finishes getting dressed before walking out of the door. “Wait. If you can marry her.”

“I’ve only just met her.”

“I know what my wife sacrificed to have her. She’s not entirely common,” Andy cocks up an eyebrow, moving closer. “I’m out in the middle of nowhere for a reason. I will not tell you the story of my wife, and where she’s gone. You make deals with the devil, he comes to call. You may have your dinner, have your dessert, she can take you to the well, and then be on your way. I don’t care how often you come, you come alone. She’s to be kept hidden, unless you can marry her. I know her future, and I won’t have you sullying it.”

“What’s her future old man?”

“She will be noble again.”

“Are you afraid of the dark?” You ask Andy as you lead him to the well. Walter close behind you, while his horse Clementine walks right beside him, unguided as well.

“No, Miss,” he catches you looking at him, before you quickly look back ahead of you. “What’s the deal with the well?”

“She grants wishes. My father always told me my mother’s spirit lives there.”

“What have you wished for?” Pressing your hands onto the stone, you lean forward a bit, trying to see if you see her face. You never do, just your own.

“Andy, you don’t go telling people your wish.”

“Of course not,” he leans over himself, and stumbles a bit.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, of course,” clearing his throat, he looks back into the dark water, and then turns to the side, smiling at you. “I wish for a kiss.”

“Andy,” his hand slides over to meet yours, before placing it on top. It felt giant compared to your own.

“One kiss. Maybe I didn’t do it correctly,” shimmying his body, he gives you a smile, “I wish that this beautiful maiden would let me kiss her.”

Straightening back up, his hand slides around your head, while his thumb brushes over your lips. Your mouth goes dry when he just barely presses his lips against yours, before pulling back, “I don’t think that counts as a kiss.”

“Of course not, Miss,” he says before slotting his lips against yours, this time holding the kiss. Your body melts into his, and he pulls you in tighter. You have nothing to compare it to, but this kiss was amazing. Your lips tingling as he pulls away. “Have a good evening.”

“Andy, when will you be back?”

“Clementine will need new shoes soon. Just make sure you’re here. I like blueberry pie, too, Miss,” his hand brushes away your baby hairs before he jumps onto his saddle. Giving his white horse a little kick before he trots away. He would be back, again and again, until he was able to call you his wife. Your kindness, and generosity when you had so little would aid you well as the Queen of Pomona. If only he knew that your parents would never subscribe to him marrying a peasant.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @peaches1958 @thedarkplume @duuhrayliegh @rebekahdawkins @johndeaconshands @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87 @feyfantome @athena-penrose

#rumplestiltskin #fairytale #modern day fairytale #fairytale au #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x fem!reader #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x you #prince!andy barber #prince!Andy barber x reader #prince!andy barber x fem!reader #prince!andy barber x y/n #prince!andy barber x you

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sage-nebula · 1 year

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Time for some hot takes™ about Sonic because it's been rotating in my mind since yesterday's bumblekast, and I'm hungry so it's an apt time to make a poor decision by posting unfiltered thoughts on tumblr (albeit unrebloggable because I might be hungry, but I'm not stupid).

The whole discourse over Sonic not killing his enemies is so mind-boggling to me on so many levels, both from the "why do you want him to take the easy way out" level, to the "it's really not that deep, he's a very easy to understand character so it's very obvious why Sega sees him this way" level, and also the, "the IDW comics have every single issue's script OK'd by Sega SEVERAL times before the issue goes to print, you can't say 'this isn't Sega's Sonic' because it IS Sega's Sonic, as in, the Sonic that Sega is putting forth right now at this very moment in time" level.

On the first level — maybe this is just because I grew up in the police state that is the United States, or maybe it's because I'm a naturally assertive-borderline-aggressive person, but to me, punishing a person for doing something heinous—whether it's punishment via incarceration or punishment via death—really is the easy choice to make. Like if I hear that someone has beaten a child to death, my first instinct is to want to beat that person to death with a baseball bat, or at least put them in a dark room to suffer for the rest of their lives. Does this make me a horrible person? Well, debatable—but regardless, my first instinct when I hear that someone has done something heinous is to want to punish them. I want to make them hurt, just as badly as they made that innocent person hurt.

And like, that's easy. I feel like for most people, that's the instinct, right? You do something wrong, you get punished. Only the social science says that this doesn't actually benefit society in any way. Incarceration is NOT effective at making society safer. The death penalty certainly isn't, especially when it comes to the fact that there are people who are sentenced who weren't guilty of the crimes they were convicted of. We know these things, and yet, the first instinct for many of us is still, "go to jail forever" or "die" when we hear about something like a man raping and murdering children.

So for me personally, on a logical level I totally understand why prison abolition is important, I'm against the death penalty, etc. But emotionally it can be so hard to not want to say, "except for . . ." because again, there are people who do truly heinous things. But if you are for prison abolition, or the abolition of the death penalty, you can't have an "except for." Either all people deserve civil liberties, or they don't. This isn't a thing you can go halvsies on. Because when you start drawing lines, then people start finding ways to finagle it so that the people they don't like cross those lines. Systemic racism, and how that is reflected in the American prison system, is a great example of this.

So to say, "well Eggman will obviously never get better and so Sonic shouldn't give him any more chances and should just kill him" — you're basically, imo, wanting Sonic to take the easy way out. Because it's SO EASY to just want to one-and-done it. It's SO EASY to say, "well he never will change, so why bother giving chances?" But the thing that's actually hard is saying, I know that he probably isn't going to change. I know that we'll have to teach this old man this lesson over, and over, and over again. But he's still a living person. And living people deserve freedom. So I'm going to give him that freedom, over and over. And I'll beat his ass when he uses that freedom to try to take over the world again, but I'll still give him that option. Because he's a person, and people deserve freedom, full stop.

Which brings us to level two, which is, Sonic stands for freedom in all forms, that is his BIGGEST thing. Like yeah, he's snarky and he cares about his friends and he likes to have a good time. But one of the driving points of his character from the very beginning is that he hates oppression in all forms. This is why he fights Eggman. Don't get me wrong, the fights are fun! But even if they weren't fun—even when he's very clearly not having a good time, like during the Metal Virus arc in the IDW comics—he still does it because he hates oppression and he wants everyone to be free. Free to do good, free to do bad—that's not his call to make for anyone else. His call is, "you're free to do what you want," and all the consequences that come with it.

Now of course, sometimes these consequences aren't good. Again, he has to teach Eggman the same lesson like a hundred times. Surge makes it clear she won't rest until he's dead. Metal Sonic won't override his programming to turn against Eggman any time soon. The Zeti will try to kill everyone if they come back, etc. The thing is, Sonic isn't saying, "my way is definitely the right way." The fact is, there ISN'T a universally right answer to this question, but even if there was, Sonic wouldn't be concerned with it. It's in numerous theme songs over and over again, but he thinks "it doesn't matter what is wrong and what is right," in terms of, whether people agree with his actions or not. This is why he's unbothered that Surge takes issue with how he lives his life (in the sense that, he doesn't care if she doesn't agree with him, but also he'd like her to be less murdery about her disagreement). All Sonic's concerned with is, do you have the freedom to make your own choices? Yeah? OK. That's it.

Now again . . . he's not twiddling his thumbs. He'll stop you from killing people. But as soon as the danger's passed, he peaces out. You can go on to make more bad decisions if you want. And he'll intervene then. But he's not going to take your freedom from you, either via jail or death. Because wrong or right, that's not who he is.

"But he imprisoned Erazor Djinn in the lamp and then threw the lamp in lava! But he killed Emerl and Biolizard and thought he killed King Arthur!"

Well, first off, I think there could be debate over how "alive" the storybook characters are. Sonic was isekai'd into books in those games. If you were isekai'd into a Mario game, and you stomped on Goombas, are you now a murderer? Should you update your tinder bio to say you killed people when you get back into the real world? Is killing Goombas while you're in the Mushroom Kingdom equivalent to killing a person who you meet out on the street in New York City? I ask these questions because I honestly wonder if that's where Sega's head is at on the storybook games—if perhaps Sonic acts the way he does there because to him . . . well, those "worlds" are just stories in a book. I don't know if that's the case, I'm just speculating.

The actual answer is that Erazor Djinn isn't dead though, just trapped in the lamp (though he still shouldn't be trapped but that's neither here nor there), with Emerl there was literally no other option, same with the Biolizard, and the actual Big Bad of Black Knight was Merlina and she didn't get deep-sixed by Sonic. At least according to yesterday's Bumblekast, those are Sega's official stances on those stories.

Regardless, let's suppose for a moment that there was a game from, I don't know, 2003 in which Sonic decided, "you know what, everyone sucks, I'm gonna go on a murder spree" and he did just that. Let's say that in 2003 Sega made "Sonic Murder Simulator" where you, as Sonic, went around killing people. That was back then. Right now, in 2023, Sonic isn't about murder, and he's not about imprisonment, because he wants everyone to have freedom even when he is personally fucked over by that, because to him, the freedom to do what you want, when you want, and how you want is the most important thing in the world. That's Sega's view on this character right now. It's not that deep, it's not that hard to understand, I honestly don't know why people are making up conspiracy theories that Ian Flynn is gaslighting this fandom, I really don't.

(But also, I honestly feel like there are some people in this fandom who just want Sonic to be Shadow. They want Sonic to kill bad guys. They want Sonic to be angsty about his past, burdened by trauma, and that's just not him. Like don't get me wrong, Sonic has been through some shit, but he's not the type to angst. He's not the type to brood. And he's definitely not the type to kill. If you want a Sonic character who is broody, reflective, traumatized, and willing to kill, the one you want is Shadow. He is right there. He has been right there for like two decades now. Go enjoy him, instead of wanting to make Sonic be him. It's literally what Shadow's there for, it's why he was revived.)

This is a long, unfiltered ramble that I might regret posting later, but either way I just had to get it off my chest. Especially the bit about "IDW Sonic is not real Sonic, he's not Sega's Sonic" because he literally is. Not a single micro-expression gets published in that comic without Sega's express approval. You don't have to like it. You can think that Sega is Ruining Sonic Forever. But to say that Sega's Sonic isn't in the comics is just batshit fucking ludicrous. Ian Flynn is not some criminal mastermind who's scheming to ruin your childhood or whatever. He certainly doesn't hate Sonic or Sega's vision for Sonic, because if he did, he wouldn't still be accepting work from them for this franchise. Whatever he does, and whatever Evan Stanley does, is with Sega's approval. Full stop. Like it or hate it, but at least take issue with the correct people, ffs.

Anyway, I need to go eat some mac'n'cheese now. Vent over.

#NONE of this is inspired by ANYONE i am friends with btw #if you are in a discord server with me - this is NOT ABOUT YOU OR YOUR THOUGHTS / OPINIONS #this is inspired by people who send things into the bumblekast and who post dumbass takes on sites like tumblr & twitter #not you. bc even when we disagree your takes are still thoughtful and not braindead #so i have no issues with you #and in fact hold you in high esteem ♥

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melodylnoelle · 1 year

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Wakanda Sunset

The Cards Have Spoken - Week 11 (My cards)

Here we are being a week late again because I have hit a major life roadblock... but I still hope that you enjoy this piece!

I also referenced @brightsun-and-darkmidnight ‘s piece called Punk from one of the earlier card draws in this one. Please give it a read for context, it’s a very lovely work!

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Characters: Shuri (Additional - Bucky Barnes) Category: Fluff - Picnic in the park (with park being a loose translation on this one) Timeline: Post- The Dark World (took the liberty of making it wayyyy past TDW) Setting: Wakanda Warnings/Notes: This is my first time writing Shuri in any way, so I stuck to making it so something was a little familiar. I hope this is in character enough, but if not, please let me know how I can make it better! // We are trying to keep these all to a minimum of 500 words. You can use these same cards for your own story if you like, but please tag me and @brightsun-and-darkmidnight so that we can see what you do! Please enjoy Words: 1283 Summary: Shuri takes Bucky for a much-needed break from his goats Masterlist

Shuri moved quickly over the uneven grass. It had been a while since she had been out of the lab to enjoy the lush land of Wakanda. She was in need of a change of pace, and this was a perfect opportunity for a certain broken white boy to get a breather, too.

She found him as she expected to as she halted on the top of the hill – tending to his goats not far from his hut. He always seemed to be busying himself while he was here. He had told her once he felt like he owed it to them to get things done, as a thank you for removing the Winter Soldier from his mind. He worked twice as hard as most of the people in the country, only stopping to rest.

Well, she would make sure he rested his mind extra today.

“Good afternoon, Sargent Barnes.” She called when she thought she was close enough for him to hear.

He shook his head, moving his gaze from off into space and turning, focusing on her. “I thought I told you to call me Bucky!”

She smiled at the way they started all their conversations. It was a fun little quip, and she hoped he didn’t mind too much. She jogged down the hill, careful not to jostle the basket on her arm too much, and approached him before speaking again. “How are the goats today?”

He let out a sigh, looking to them. “Well, Punk didn’t get himself hurt today, so that’s always a good start.” A half-smile crossed his face as he looked to his favorite goat, which was bouncing around all of the other ones at a break-neck pace. His eyes looked as though they were looking to something far away, and she couldn’t help but wonder what they were seeing.

“Maybe because he has a good handler to keep him in line,” she bumped his shoulder, and waited for him to shake himself out of wherever he had just been. “I think they will be alright for the rest of the afternoon. If you keep spending all of your time with the goats, we might have to rename you the White Goat.” His head dipped with quiet laughter, and she felt her own smile widen. “You could use a break.”

“Oh, well you don’t know Punk. He gets into trouble pretty easily.” The smile was back, at least.

“Stop putting the weight of his choices on your shoulders for a moment,” she joked back, raising the basket on his arm. “Besides, this food is not going to eat itself.”

He eyed it in question. “You brought food all the way out here to little old me?”

“And for me! And I’m hungry, so come on, would you?”

“If you’re that hungry, we could just eat here. Then I can keep an eye on-“

“That is precisely why we are not eating here.” She insisted, pulling lightly on his arm. “Come, we are on a timeline.”

His brow furrowed. “Why’s that?”

“You will see.” She let go of his arm and turned, sure he would follow without turning to look. Soon enough, she heard his footfalls in the grass behind her. She let her stride slow to give him time to catch up.

She tried asking him how he was doing as they walked, but he didn’t say much. He just started talking about the work that he had done, and the goats. He was supposed to be resting more than this, and she mentally chastised him for not doing so. She didn’t want to upset him further, though, so she kept that to herself. Instead, she launched into a story about the work that she was doing in her lab. He had a fascination with technology, she had realized, and she found it enjoyable to talk to someone about her work that for once had a very interested ear. He listened intently as she spoke about the new version of the Black Panther suit she made for T’Challa, and her recent improvement to the kimoyo beads. She answered his questions, which came as many that he seemed to want answered all at once. His eyes lit up with wonder at every answer, and as she used the holographic projector on the beads to show him schematics. It was a refreshing change in him, and she smiled, satisfied that this was now going as she planned.

It was almost an hour when they reached their destination – a grass-covered outcropping on one of the nearby mountains that overlooked much of the land in Wakanda. Hills rolled in waves of green at varying heights below, dotted with trees and splashes of color from wildflowers. Her timing had been perfect, it turned out, as the landscape was washed in the light orange of the just-setting sun, and the city in the background glinted with gold.

She looked at Bucky as he took in the scene, eyes wide and light. His mouth fell open slightly, and he halted in his steps.

“I know your hut gives you a great view of the sunset, but I thought you might like to see it from a different angle.”

“It’s beautiful here.” His voice was nearly a whisper.

“This is one of my favorite places to come to take a break from the lab.” She sat down at the edge of the outcropping, letting her feet dangle. She set the basket down next to her as she pondered the ground far below. It always amazed her, the expanse of the forest and wildlife there.

Bucky took another moment before he joined her, his steps muffled further by the grass and weeds. He braced himself with his arm as he mimicked her movements, swinging his legs under them. Seemingly mindlessly, he kicked his feet as he tore his vision from the scene in front of him. “So, you said you were hungry?”

“Yes, here,” she reached in, grabbing the foods that she had packed and spreading them between them where the basket had been. “I thought you might have forgotten to eat again, what with only grass to graze on around you.”

He chuckled as he took some of the food that she offered. “Thanks.”

“You are welcome, Sargent.”

He dead-panned a moment before ignoring it, taking a bite of his food and looking back into the sunset.

She followed his gaze, admiring the scenery in front of them as they ate wordlessly.

He was the first to break the silence. “I really appreciate everything your people have done for me.”

“It was nothing,” Shuri shrugged. “You needed the help, and we could give it.”

“But you didn’t have to.”

“Just as you do not have to so endlessly help with work, but you do.”

He shook his head, his food pausing halfway to his mouth. “That’s different, I-“

“You do not owe us that much.” Shuri met his eyes with a steeled look of her own. “You need to rest your mind more than you need to repay us. Do not make my work be for nothing by working yourself to death.”

She let that sit for a moment as he kept staring at her. She held his gaze, waiting for him to argue.

She was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t. He just nodded and looked back out at the deeper orange of the sky. When he spoke again, it was quieter this time.

She let him think his thoughts. She focused hers on the sunset, too, settling back into eating her food. She would take this small victory, that she had gotten him to at least try to relax for just this moment.

#the cards have spoken #shuri #Bucky Barnes #MCU #writing

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hauntedkoalaturtle · 1 year

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10 Tips for Making a Good merakitmainan Even Better

One of the important elements in retaining facts, in transferring it into your short-term memory, is repetition.™

No, it does not audio incredibly remarkable or cutting - edge but there it's. Uncomplicated repetition is essential to remembering a little something.

That means that you might want to discover means of repeating the exact same factors when you're coaching. However it needn't be dull. It doesn't mean You need to just retain stating exactly the same matter again and again all over again.

Among the list of methods you are able to do it really is to make in various things to do which permit folks to evaluate the things they've discovered. The main element is to get the learners associated by themselves in order that they're processing the knowledge, which can be also crucial in remembering it, in lieu of just listening to you.

On the list of main means of carrying out This is certainly with some type of quiz, where you request men and women questions or they check with each other. But which is not the sole approach. Allow me to share 8 ideas for evaluate functions which you can use. Be at liberty to make use of them as your own, I have borrowed them from Other individuals myself!

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1. Snowball fight.

Get individuals to put in writing questions about the fabric on pieces of paper. Then they screw the papers up into balls and toss them at each other ( Carefully ) similar to a snowball battle. Once they've finished, Every person picks up the ball closest to him or her and reads out the issue, then has to reply it properly.

2. Image quiz.

A favorite of mine is the picture quiz or Pictionary. This is when you draw an image representing an idea you have discussed, even perhaps working with a visible you have currently used. Then people have to convey just what the concept was and let you know all about it.

As opposed to just drawing your individual, you may set persons in teams and get them to make up a picture quiz for one another. Or you may get All and sundry inside of a staff to face up and draw a little something for his or her team to guess.

three. Newspaper posting.

Place people into smaller groups and possibly give each a subject or give them all precisely the same matter. Talk to them to jot down a short newspaper post about this that has a headline. It is possible to provide them with distinctive papers to repeat, e.g. The Sunlight and The Times, to determine what distinctive variations they could come up with.

4. Ad.

Get groups to produce a poster or maybe a written ad based upon your subject matter. As an example, if you've been speaking about management, get them to jot down an ad for just a supervisor, location out the attributes necessary.

5. Alphabet.

Give groups the letters in the alphabet ( or, if you wish to make it more quickly, give teams a bit of the alphabet, e.g. A - File ) and request them to think of a term for every letter from the alphabet which pertains to what you've been speaking about. The team with X and Z may well struggle but people today ordinarily think of a little something!

6. Visible aids.

A quite simple technique, give groups matters and ask them to produce 1 powerful Visible help to summarise the topic, which individuals could use to remind them of your vital Concepts. You could possibly request them to generate these on parts of A4 paper, which you could possibly photocopy so All people could just take one again for their place of work with them.

7. Sketches or scenes.

Ask little groups to organize quick sketches or scenes For example key points from the teaching, e.g. superior and negative examples of conduct, customer meetings, ways of working with equipment or some process.

When you've got enough time and also the assets, you can record these on the DVD to maintain as reminders ( set them on YouTube? ).

8. A poem or tune.

Talk to people to make up a poem or simply a music regarding the topic. When you've got time, you could even talk to them to exercise an accompaniment employing objects to help make audio ( e.g. percussion within the squander paper bin ) and add a dance schedule.

All these things will increase variety and delight on your coaching and, simultaneously, will increase the probability of your learners retaining whatever they've realized. Making use of variety will also assist you to make certain those with various learning kinds can entry the fabric.

Do have the team included as much as you possibly can simply because this can make all the primary difference during the influence of the educational. Also, You will be shocked at individuals's creativeness. Any time I request teams to think of Strategies for visuals, tracks, sketches, and so on. I am generally amazed on the factors they think of and they are often a great deal more Imaginative and intriguing than anything at all I would have believed up myself.

Probably the most frequent thoughts I get concerning the matter of advanced male chastity is about how desirable can it be to have a chastity piercing, like a Prince Albert, to be sure the safety of the machine.

The considering behind it is pretty uncomplicated: many of the safer, critical, and so high-priced chastity products need The person to have a piercing in his penis And so the chastity unit can be locked into place properly.

In all probability the most common mix is really a Prince Albert piercing (where by the securing pin enters the penis by way of a hole inside the underside of The pinnacle and exits with the urethra), but there are actually equipment suitable with frenum and ampallang piercings, way too.

So, this raises a few inquiries.

Initial, why would any person do this?

Effectively, the answer to this is simple: it will make the equipment Considerably safer.

Most chastity equipment - even complete belts - is often escaped by a person who's determined to do so, presented he takes advantage of adequate lubrication and will endure a bit agony.

It's probable there are many equipment for which this isn't accurate but I've nevertheless to encounter just one.

But a tool secured which has a piercing is as protected a chastity machine as you might be at any time going to get, simply because the penis is held prisoner having a metal pin essentially passing through the flesh.

Along with the equipment' layout suggests there is no way to get rid of the unit devoid of removing the pin very first, Unless of course you are willing to tear your personal flesh (hardly any Males would want to do this, I am guaranteed).

And for men seriously interested in long-expression and long-lasting chastity, a secure device is a component of your thrill.

There is one area about remaining locked in the secure gadget that really does flip Gentlemen on. The feeling of having no Charge of their particular orgasms is intoxicating for them.

Just bear in mind: no chastity unit is or at any time may be one hundred% safe, indicating no male is at any time retained inside a chastity system towards his will.

There isn't any doubt keretaapi some units are more secure than Some others, and It truly is most likely numerous could only be taken off or escaped from with the assistance of resources.

Although the tools needed are easy and many Males probably have them by now lying all over within their garage. Moreover, getting rid of the system will be completely Safe and sound, also, As long as he took care.

Even a device which employs a piercing pin to maintain the penis protected might be taken off merely by reducing the pin (which may be performed basically and securely using a set of tinsnips or wire-cutters, say).

The second basis for the piercing is For a lot of Males and girls It really is symbolic - which symbolism is incredibly highly effective.

In a significant proportion of associations where they observe male chastity, Element of the dynamic is the lady "owns" The person's penis, or not less than has every one of the "legal rights" about it.

In these situations owning the penis pierced, whether the male genuinely wants to have it done or not (bearing in your mind he normally has the choice in reality, and so It truly is just Component of the game) is symbolic of the facility-Trade.

Naturally, you don't need to be pierced to delight in chastity, and You do not even require a device.

The idea you do is just One more fantasy propagated by different people who have their own agendas for seeking you to acquire into their technique for contemplating.

My partner, John, was pierced but he never ever truly settled in the product, so we took the piecing out and he at this time wears a Lori #2C, which can be designed for un-pierced Adult men.

At the moment He's in long-phrase orgasm denial and The rationale he doesn't escape is he will not wish to.

Male chastity is de facto about two folks who love whatsoever dynamic they elect to put into practice and is just a scenario of becoming informed about Risk-free, sane and smart tactics.

#Youtube

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juletheghoul · 3 years

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Burning Hour (Part 3)

This series has completely taken over my life and I am so happy you are all enjoying it so much - thank you for all of the lovely messages and comments - I treasure them deeply.

So - you shouldn't be surprised that this particular moment on the red carpet absolutely inspired a scene in this story and I regret nothing. Hope you all enjoy this fantasy that's keeping me going lol.

Din Djarin x F!Reader (Virgin reader)

Pairing: Din x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) Angst, pining, slow-burn, implied arranged marriage, language, age-gap (about 10-11 years, legal, reader is of age) Yearning, jealousy, fingering/touching / slight dirty talk (slightly possessive)

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist Series Masterlist Part 4

—

You floated through the morning.

Your dreams were full of kisses, of declarations of love and beskar glinting under the sun and it was hard to concentrate on anything.

You smiled to yourself as you broke your fast with warm bread and butter, feeling his eyes on you from his place behind your father.

“Your highness-” Your father’s advisor came through the door holding the usual paperwork, things for him to look over, letters to read. “-A letter has come for the Princess.” He turned to you then with a smile. He was an old man, grandfatherly and sweet. He handed it to you and you noticed from the corner of your eye Din’s helmet turn towards you.

It was a small letter and you noticed how beautiful the script was as you opened it.

Dearest Princess,

I would be honoured if you were to join me here at my home for dinner. My messenger awaits your response and if you agree, I will send my personal household guard to accompany you. I also imagine your knight will be in attendance, I welcome him and whoever else you choose to bring at my table. Ruby as well of course.

Hoping you’ll say yes.

Ever yours,

Poe. D.

“It’s from Poe, he asks that I join him this evening for dinner.” You were frowning at the letter, conflicted because you wanted to stay home, wanted to meet Din in the garden again. A tiny part of you however, the tiniest part wanted to say yes - wanted to see how Poe would behave. Part of you wanted him to do something unforgivable to wipe the smiles off your parents faces.

“Oh but you must go!” Your father’s voice boomed through the room and you imagined that you could almost hear Din’s jaw clenching.

“Yes my darling, you must go. What does the letter say?” Your mother held her hand out and you handed it to her. She smiled as she read it. “Din, you must accompany her.” She was smiling big, excited at the prospect of a match having been made. No one bothered to ask if you wanted to go.

“Yes of course, let his messenger know that the Princess will be in attendance. She will go, Din- I leave her safety in your hands. Take you who must.” It had been decided for you, and you had to accept it. You felt Mila’s hand grasp yours under the table in understanding.

“Which gown would you like to wear your highness?” She asked sadly as you put on your undergarments and you sighed.

Whichever one makes everyone leave me alone.

“Whichever you think would look best sweetling, I have no preference.” You said the words and they were honest. Yes - Poe was charming and sweet, handsome and in another life you would have been faint with excitement at his interest in you but you were in love with Din. He was the one you wanted to share a meal with. He was the one you wanted to kiss in the open - to have holding your hand as you sat together in front of the hearth. He was the one you wanted in your bed.

“How about this one?” She held out a lovely powder blue gown. You would have said no, something more plain but you had to be seen to be making an effort.

“Yes, that will do nicely.” You smiled but it didn’t reach your eyes. She didn’t comment on it.

“I will tie a blue ribbon around Ruby’s neck to match, and I think you have some sapphires as well.” She brought over a tray of jewelry for you to peruse while she laced up your gown.

Your mind drifted to an interesting place. You imagined you were preparing for dinner with Din and imagined your knight picking out jewels for you to wear.

Would he prefer diamonds? Would he like me better in opals or emeralds?

You had a feeling he wouldn’t mind either way, but it was lovely to pretend even for a moment. She placed a dark blue cloak about your shoulders and stood back.

“You look beautiful Princess, the blue looks lovely against your skin.” She held up a silvered looking glass and you saw the reflection of a happy woman, although why she was happy - no one could know.

“Thank you sweetling, let's get this night over with shall we?” You smiled at her as you both made your way outside.

---

Din, along with five of his best knights, waited for her to set out for Damerons home. Damerons own household guard waited as well, having been sent to accompany her and he surveyed them. They seemed competent enough, he gave them their space nonetheless.

It was getting more and more difficult to put the future out of his mind - he knew that the Princess would marry at some point, it was her duty as Queen. She might even marry Poe - he knew that objectively they were a good match but his mind simply couldn’t stay objective. Not when it came to her.

This whole thing was moving faster than he hoped and he didn’t know what he could do about it.

You have to face facts Djarin, you’ll never marry her. You are a knight, she is a Princess, there is no place for you. Maybe you should just let her go.

It was in him to do so, to ignore his feelings for her; to find Gisela and ask her to marry him - have a couple of little ones and pray for things to work out. The harsh words to get her to hate him on the tip of his tongue but they evaporated like dew on a sunny day when he saw her come out to meet him.

She was a gem- a bright, glittering thing that he wanted so desperately to hold onto.

“I am ready Sir, shall we?” She smiled shyly and he nodded.

“Of course Princess, allow me.” He guided her into the wheelhouse, dreading and cherishing every single second.

The ride was uneventful, the road was quiet thankfully with nothing to see but long swathes of trees and greenery in the gloaming of the evening.

Ruby was napping softly in your lap but woke quickly when you arrived, her little tail wagging happily at the prospect of exploring.

“Yes my little darling - we are here.” She was in Mila’s arms when you pet her, the two of you waiting for the wheelhouse to come to a stop.

Din opened the door for you, he was helping you climb down when you heard Poe’s voice sounding out.

“Princess, I am so pleased you agreed to come-” He was striding over, his squire on his heels. “-I am happy to see you all. Please - be welcome.” He was smiling big at everyone as his guards retreated, no doubt returning to their posts. He crouched quickly to pet Ruby before approaching you.

“Hello Poe, I thank you for your invitation.” You smiled as you took in your surroundings. His home was a beautiful sprawling estate. He must have been wealthier than you thought. “You must give me a tour of the grounds - I would love to see the gardens.” You smiled at him as he offered you his arm.

“Of course Princess, I will show you whatever you wish after our meal - unless you’d like to go now?” He paused for a moment.

“After dinner would be just fine.” You answered as he guided all of you inside.

You weren’t sure what to expect about his home when the letter had come in earlier but it was a pleasant surprise. There were fresh cut flowers everywhere, painstakingly detailed tapestries hung up on the walls as you made your way to the large dining room. Lush carpets and plush chairs, truly a man who enjoyed his comforts.

“You have a lovely home Poe.” You smiled as he led you to your seat.

“I thank you Princess -“ He turned to Din and the other Mandalorians waiting by the table. “-Please, sit with us. I meant what I said, you are all welcome at my table.” He gestured to them to sit.

“I do not wish to intrude, we would be happy to eat with the rest of your household guard.” Din replied, his voice was clipped however.

“Nonsense. I insist, I dare say the Princess would be more comfortable if you were to join us.” He said it with an easy smile and Din hesitated slightly before agreeing. They all sat, lining their helmets up before them.

Din barely spoke.

He had never been one for long speeches - you were unsure whether it was because of the helmet, or just his nature. The other Mandalorians were friendlier and Poe took it all in stride. You could see that he took nothing personal and treated them just as he treated you.

Aside from Din’s cool demeanor and Poe’s etiquette, the dinner went well. The food was wonderful and you didn’t fail to notice some of your favourites on the menu.

“I took the liberty of finding out what you like to eat.” He said it quietly, not wanting to draw attention and you favoured him with a smile. It was hard not to like him, he was very thoughtful.

Once the meal was done, he fulfilled his promise and escorted you outside. It was much more open than the gardens back home - everything illuminated by torches and lanterns. There were flowers and neatly pruned shrubbery surrounding the large building. You noticed a stable on one side, as well a modest greenhouse on the other.

“It’s nothing compared to what you’re used to but I enjoy it. The kennels are just behind the stables and there are flowers and different fruit trees just to the right there - that’s where they get the most sun. I’m afraid the night doesn’t do it justice, it’s much lovelier during the day.” He was walking you through the grounds, your arm tucked under his as your party followed.

“It’s lovely, truly.” You were sincere and you couldn’t help but look up, the sky awash in stars. “I would imagine you must spend a lot of time out here.” You let him guide the way.

“Not as often as I'd like to, but I try. Perhaps when we marry I’ll make more of an effort.” He said it with a wink and you scoffed loudly but without malice.

“Oh is that so? Well then I suppose I’ll have to change some things around since in your mind I’ll live here hm?” Your tone was playful but sarcastic and you were acutely aware of Din following the two of you.

“Oh yes Princess, I am quite sure. My home is yours and you may do with it what you will. I live only to make you happy.” He was just as playful and as annoyed as you were that he was so confident in your union, it was also aggravatingly refreshing to be able to speak to someone so honestly - better yet for them to respond in kind.

You ignored it, Poe was charming, that’s all.

Much to your annoyance, the night was enjoyable. Poe was an excellent host and it was later than you had originally planned when you set off for home. The woods were pitch black in some spots, it made you anxious to ride in the wheelhouse while the world outside seemed like it didn’t exist. The soft light of the moon doing nothing to pierce through the darkness of the road at times.

Reaching the palace had been a relief and you said as much when you stepped out.

“You should have told me Princess, I would have ridden in it with you - if it would have helped.” He spoke as he guided you inside. You had wanted to, but the temptation of having him so close would have been too much - and as much as Mila knew about your feelings towards him - you didn’t want her to see you kissing him.

You patted his arm in silent thanks and he said nothing else.

When you reached your room you hesitated at the door, wanting him to pull you away somewhere but he didn’t - instead he waited until Mila got in. He took his helmet off and you smiled at the state of his hair. Your fingers itched to ruffle through it.

“Princess, if it’s not too late, I would ask you to join me for a midnight ride.” He waited for your answer and your smile widened.

“Of course! Would you permit me to change quickly?” You didn’t want to ride in such a stuffy gown - as beautiful as it was.

“I will wait however long it takes.” He motioned for you to go and you did - urging Mila to help you once you reached your bedchamber.

“The soft linen dress I think - with the long shift and the heavy cloak. I want to be comfortable and warm.” You changed as fast as humanly possible - all but ripping the jewelry off and within a few minutes you were rushing out the door. The two of you making your way towards the stables as silently as possible.

You watched him work deftly, his skilled hands saddling his horse with ease. One horse, not two.

“Are we to ride together?” You looked at him confused.

“Is this a problem for you Princess? I thought it might be quicker to get us to safety should something happen if we were on the same horse. I could saddle you your own if you prefer - we just wouldn’t travel too far.” He hesitated momentarily and your heart leapt at the thought that he would be holding you so closely.

“I trust your judgment Sir, one horse it is.” You kept your voice neutral and he nodded, finishing his work quickly. Once he was done - he helped you up and pulled himself up behind you. The cool beskar pressed up against your back as his arms reached around you to grab the reins.

Your dress pooled up around your thighs slightly, but your legs were covered by your big cloak but it was exciting nonetheless. You felt exposed, with his proximity it excited you way more than it should have. It felt forbidden, taboo and thrilling to have it feel like he was holding you. You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning back into his body slightly but he didn’t complain.

The ride through the forest was quiet except for the sound of the night birds, the crickets and the creatures that prowled at this time. The sound of the horses' steps, the sound of its breathing mixing with yours as well as Din’s. He rode through trees, through the little paths only he seemed to know and after a while you were beside a lake. The soft sound of the water kissing the shore added to the nightsong and you were happy that he had brought you here. He had been silent the whole ride, but you felt him take his helmet off behind you and secure it somehow to the saddle.

“You should know that you looked exceptionally lovely today Princess, blue is your colour.” His breath tickled your neck and you shivered. You turned slightly to look back but you couldn’t fully face him, the angle awkward but he kissed you just under your ear to let you know it was okay.

“I thank you Sir, I hoped you would like it.” You leaned back into his arms to tuck your head under his chin.

“You wore that for me? I thought you wore it for Dameron.” His hands came up to hold onto your arms as he pressed little kisses to your neck.

“I always dress for you.” You left it at that, hoping he would understand that despite everything- he was the one you wanted.

“Can I confess something?” His hand came up to slowly undo the cloak tied at your throat.

“Yes, anything.” You answered almost breathlessly, watching his hands open up the cloak to expose your shoulders, the skin of your thighs poking out where the dress had bunched up even more.

“You might think me wicked but, I thought about what it would be like to kiss you.” His hand trailed down as he spoke, rubbing at your thighs over your dress and you watched them in the low light of the moon, mesmerized.

“You’ve kissed me before Sir, you could kiss me now.” You turned a little more but he stopped you.

“I wasn’t thinking about kissing your mouth lovely girl, I was thinking about kissing you somewhere else.” His hands slowly gathered the fabric of your dress, bunching it in his fist - lifting it inch by inch to bare your legs to him. “May I show you where I want to kiss you?” He stopped but you clung onto his arms around you.

“Yes - please show me.” You felt is other hand join the fray and soon he had exposed your lower half to the cool night air. Your undergarments were damp you knew it - the arousal pooling low in your belly at the thought that he might touch you where you most wanted him to. He didn’t disappoint.

His hand trailed up your inner thigh lightly, slowly, up until he skillfully slid it into your undergarments. He groaned deep in his chest when he touched your bare sex.

“Right here. I long to kiss you, taste you here.” His touch was feather light on the lips of your womanhood, slipping along the seam of you. You whimpered, no one had ever touched you here and you felt the slick dripping out of you as you let him explore. “Would you let me Princess? Would you let me bury my tongue right here?” He dipped his fingers low, parting you slightly to dip his fingers just at the entrance - collecting your arousal onto his fingers before slipping them out and bringing them to his mouth behind you. You moaned at the sound of him sucking you off of them and you nodded frantically.

“Yes Din, I would let you - I’m yours.” You moaned the words and his other hand held you in place.

“And I am yours.” He responded before bringing his hand back to where you craved it, this time he spread the lips of your cunt open wide, honing his middle finger on the pearl of your sex. He rubbed tight, slow circles around it and you moaned - trying desperately to open your legs wider. He chuckled darkly behind you.

“Does that feel good Princess?” He turned your face with his other hand, twisting his upper body enough to capture your mouth in a messy kiss, not quite aligned but it sent a shiver of arousal through you and you felt yourself climbing higher and higher- his finger relentless as he sped up a little.

“Yes - Gods yes - it feels so good Din, I thought about you too.” You moaned the words into his mouth. “I think about you touching me like this, when I do it to myself.” He groaned at your confession, his tongue thick in your mouth when he kissed you again.

His finger dipped low to collect more wetness and the glide of it was just right, just slippery enough to send you over the edge and you almost screamed. Your body seizing up with pleasure as your sex clenched around nothing. He cooed into your ear as you rode it out.

“You are intoxicating my lovely one.” He kissed your neck, as he lowered your skirts.

You watched him, blissed out and boneless as he licked his fingers before grabbing the reins again and slowly making his way back to the palace.

Mila was snoring softly when you slipped into the room and you were careful not to wake her and as tired as you were from travel it took you a long time to fall asleep. Your heart full of love for Din and a hunger you couldn’t satiate filled your belly. It was a craving for his body, for his kisses, for physical love a woman shared with her husband. You fell asleep hoping - though secretly knowing- that he craved you the same way.

—-

As happy as you were when you awoke the next morning, it was quickly dampened - your father informed you that Poe was to arrive at the Palace as his honoured guest. That he was to stay for a time as a gesture of good will.

You saw right through it.

Your parents had decided that Poe was the suitor they wanted for you and they weren’t being at all subtle.

They informed you with big smiles on their faces, no doubt in hopes of pushing you towards him. It was exhausting - this constant reminder that you would never be truly free to live the life you wanted with Din.

When Poe arrived, he was happy - taking this as a sign that he was winning you over.

“Greetings Princess, I cannot tell you how happy I am to be able to spend more time with you.” He was all smiles and you had no choice but to smile back.

“It will be interesting for sure.” With the way you felt about Din, the intense desire to be around him was at the forefront of your mind. As well as the way Din behaved around Poe, it would definitely be interesting to say the least.

—

Your father invited Poe to dine at your private table, and he engaged him in conversation almost the whole night. They spoke of the future, of how Poe would help rule if he were indeed to marry you. Your mother smiled silently, happy to let the conversation center around the two of you.

Din stood still behind your fathers chair and you wanted nothing more than to pull him to sit with you. To talk to him, kiss him and feed him from your own plate.

“I would want to help people to be quite honest, extend a hand to those that aren’t as fortunate as us. There are people out there starving and that doesn’t sit right with me.” He was honest, to a fault like he said but you admired that.

“That’s very noble of you my boy.” The king nodded.

“It’s very honourable isn’t it my darling?” Your mother smiled at you and you smiled back, nodding around a bite of your food.

“I’m sure the Princess and I could do much and more to help the people who need it the most, if she would let me that is.” He had a shy, genuine smile for you, tentatively reaching over and taking your hand in his. You couldn’t very well snatch it back but you felt Din’s eyes burning into the interaction.

This could get messy.

“Princess, I would humbly ask that you accompany me for a walk through the grounds - chaperoned by your knight of course.” He asked as the remnants of the meal were taken away.

“Oh I’m sure she’d love to join you wouldn’t you sweetling?” Your mother cooed, and you smiled and nodded.

“Yes of course.” You let him guide you, Din following closely behind.

—

“I hope I’m not intruding - I know that the King and Queen are very keen for this to work between us.” He held your hand as you walked arm in arm and you couldn’t help but sigh softly.

“Yes they are aren’t they.” Your tone came out a little more exasperated than you’d hoped but he was well aware that you were not to be swayed by him so easily, you knew he should expect some hesitancy from you.

“I understand that you aren’t impressed and that I am most likely not your first choice. For all I know you might already have your eye on someone else.” He laughed and you couldn’t help but look over your shoulder at Din. “Regardless of that Princess, I know this must be difficult for you but I beg of you to give me a chance to show you that there is potential here. I believe that in time you might come to love me.” He pulled your hand up to his mouth and kissed your fingers.

“You are selling yourself quite hard Poe, I appreciate that you understand that my feelings for you aren’t where you want them to be.” You looked up at him apologetically, expecting him to have a sad look on his face but he surprised you; he was smiling - content to listen to you speak.

“I know, it’s not in you right now but I believe you will see me in a different light. I have faith.” He left the conversation there.

——

It was hard to find time to meet with Din, Poe seemed to be everywhere and his determination seemingly had no bounds.

Your mother found you as you dressed for the day - she had a note from Poe. He was asking you to accompany him into town to hand out some supplies. You couldn’t refuse him, not when your mother had delivered it herself.

“Will Din accompany us?” You asked it offhand, your voice neutral - your face a mask of nonchalance.

“No your father is going on a hunt and Din will be protecting him, there will be other guards with you.” She said it with a shake of her hand as she searched your wardrobe for an appropriate dress. “This will do nicely.” She picked out an off the shoulder, deep berry coloured dress that was not at all practical for a day out in the city.

It would have to do.

He had taken you to an orphanage in the heart of the city. There were kids running around of all ages and the older ones ran towards Poe when you entered - recognizing him. He had a big smile on his face as they hugged him around the middle, all decorum forgotten.

“Poe did you bring us anything?” A boy of about twelve years was eager, looking around you to the entourage of guards waiting behind you.

“Of course, brought all of you some good stuff like I always do.” He ruffled the boys hair before he held his hand out to you, you smiled and stepped forward. “I have someone very special here with me today, this is the Princess. Come on over and say hello.” He called them over to you and you saw some of the little girls eyes light up. They flocked to you, asking you if you were indeed the Princess. Asked you if you had a crown, and most importantly why you were there. They were precious.

“She’s here to help just like I am.” Poe answered for you.

A little girl of about six pulled on your dress and you lowered yourself slightly to be at her level.

“Princess, I like your dress, you’re so pretty.” She was smiling at you, her hair was a tangle but her eyes were bright.

“Thank you sweetling, you are much prettier I must say.” You moved the hair out of her eyes and she smiled wide, her little hand clutching at a makeshift cloth doll.

You helped Poe hand out toys and new clothes and there was food for them to eat. You spent the day playing with them and learning about their lives. The women who ran the orphanage knew him and you saw that all of the talk of helping the less fortunate was real, he had already been doing much more than you had ever even imagined.

It was hard to deny the little spark of something that he held within you.

He was handsome, he was kind and smart- funny and generous and with the way his eyes found yours throughout the day; he felt something for you. His eyes were piercing, dark and mysterious and for the first time, he gave you butterflies.

One of the little ones was showing you his space within the building, his bed and his tiny toy horse. He was waxing poetic about how one day he would be a knight. You were smiling at him when Poe stood next to you, his gaze heavy and it sent a flush crawling up your neck to light up your ears.

The fabric at his neck was crumpled and you couldn’t help but reach up to fix it, your arm extended over to him and his gaze focused on it, reached up to hold it to his neck. He placed a delicate kiss to your bicep and pulled you closer. The act was small, but so intimate it did something to you. Melted a tiny piece of you that up until now was frozen to him and he saw it on your face. Felt it in the way you let him hold you close, your arm still around his neck, his hand moving down to hold onto your waist.

The little boy was in front of you now, asking Poe if he would ever give him a real horse and he laughed, not unkindly.

“One day my boy, one day I will give you a horse - only if you promise to behave and be on your best behaviour. Can you do that?” The little boy nodded sagely promising he would. You didn’t pull your arm away, and you couldn’t pinpoint why.

—-

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theteasetwrites · 2 years

Text

The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 42: Means To an End

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader ❧ Era: Season 6 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: violence, mild swearing, mentions of child abuse/neglect, character death, slightly steamy ❧ Word Count: 5.6k

❧ In This Chapter: The attack on the Saviors goes off without a hitch, for the most part, but there's trouble afoot when Daryl takes Denise on a run for medical supplies.

❧ A/N: More moral dilemmas—to kill or be killed? Of course, in this world, it's got to be kill. Reader has to come to terms with murder once again as the gang raids the Savior outpost, and Daryl has his own moral dilemma, as well. I also took the liberty of providing a bit more backstory for Daryl, which is mostly my own headcanons revolving around some bits that are canonically known about his origins. Might even do a flashback at some point if I get the chance.

Rick held a meeting at the church the day after negotiating with the Hilltop.

It was decided—Alexandria was going to lead a mission to infiltrate the Saviors’ compound and kill them all, including their leader, Negan.

There were a few dissenters, namely Morgan, who was a pacifist. He insisted that there must be some other way to deal with them that didn’t involve violence, but Rick and the majority of the people present at the meeting, including you, decided that violence was the only thing these people responded to.

If Jesus’ word was anything to go by, the Saviors didn’t listen, they just killed and plundered. To your surprise, even Aaron was on board with the plan. He said he didn’t want there to be any repeat of the incident with the Wolves, and you were inclined to agree with him

So, every able-bodied fighter who was willing to participate became involved in the plan. Even Bev was ready to help out if necessary. She had been training with you for a few weeks, and she was learning quickly, but you pulled Rick aside and asked him not to enlist her help. She was a little too confident in her fighting abilities, and this mission was going to be a challenging one.

Andy, the man whose arm Daryl injured at the Hilltop, was your main resource for mapping out the compound. He had been inside it just days earlier, so he knew his way around well enough to draw up a map. It was rudimentary, but your group could work with it. You’d worked with less.

The small group you assembled mostly consisted of the group you came to Alexandria with—Rick, Michonne, Sasha, Abraham, Rosita, Tara, Glenn, Maggie, Gabriel, Carol, Daryl, and yourself. Daryl, as usual, was not too excited about you coming with, but he didn’t stop you this time.

Jesus, Andy, Aaron, and Heath, one of Alexandria’s original supply runners, also came along. In total, there were fourteen of you taking on what Jesus had said might be about twenty at the most. The plan was to put them down in their sleep so they wouldn’t alert the others. To you, it seemed a little cowardly, but if it got your people fed, you weren’t going to complain about the strategy too much. It was the means to an end.

“This is how we eat,” Rick said to you all after he described the plan as you sat amongst the others in the middle of a deserted road not too far from the compound. It was your meeting place, and you were hoping you’d meet back there sooner rather than later.

To get in, Andy would approach the guards and present them with Gregory’s “head” (Glenn and Heath had chopped off a few walker heads that looked similar enough to Gregory’s to present to them instead). Then, they would release the Hilltop’s man, Craig. Just after that, you’d take out the guards and begin the killing inside, with the armory as your final destination. If you were going to wipe out a whole settlement, you might as well take their guns, too, Rick figured.

It was a solid plan. You didn’t like killing. In fact, you hated it, but it was like your father used to tell you—life is a series of doing things you don’t want to do, but have to. The older you got, the more that seemed to ring true. If Alexandria was going to survive, you needed the help of the Hilltop. If the Hilltop was going to survive, you needed to take out the Saviors.

It was simple. You understood it, what needed to be done and why. One thing you couldn’t quite understand, though, was why Maggie had come with you. She was almost a month pregnant by now, and it gave you major secondhand anxiety.

“Hey,” you said to her, approaching her slowly so as not to spook her as she loaded her gun. You sat next to her on the grass on the side of the road. Everyone was gearing up, and you had already done so, your automatic rifle, your handguns, your knife, and your axe weighing you down sufficiently by now. “How are you feeling?”

She looked at you curiously, then scoffed. “I’m pregnant, (Y/N),” she said, “not dying.”

You smiled. “I know, I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

She laughed and shook her head. “You worry about everyone except yourself. Besides, I’m fine. Just gonna watch the perimeter, that’s all.”

“Alone?”

She sighed. “Yes, (Y/N). Alone.” She set her gun on her lap and rested a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, I’ll be safer than you out there. You’re the one who’s gotta be careful.”

You nodded. “You think this is a good idea?” you asked after a long pause.

She shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea, but it’s the one we got.”

Daryl had essentially come up with the idea, Maggie proposed it to Gregory, and Rick organized the entire plan. Others, including yourself, also helped, but those three did a lot of the heavy lifting.

“Just… doesn’t seem right to kill someone when they’re sleeping, you know? Even if they’re bad people… But I guess that’s just the way it has to be.”

Maggie nodded. “It’s like Rick said—we gotta get to them before they get to us. Besides, we’re doin’ this for the little ones, right?”

“You mean for your baby?”

She nodded. “Yeah, and the kids at home, and your baby.”

You shook your head with a laugh. “So much for having our babies at the same time.”

You and Maggie had an ongoing hypothetical conversation in which the two of you would plan on conceiving, being pregnant, and giving birth around the same time. You both presupposed that your children would be best friends with each other and would see each other almost as siblings. After all, you saw Glenn and Maggie as the younger brother and sister you never had, so it didn’t seem too far off.

“Ain’t too late,” Maggie said. “When this is over, you and Daryl can get down to business.”

You sighed. “I don’t think it’s going to happen for a while. He’s worried about it not being safe or secure enough.”

“When we kill these Saviors,” she said seriously, “and start that trade with the Hilltop, it will be safe. I promise you.”

It wasn’t something Maggie could promise, but you believed her. Maybe it was that sweet southern accent that always charmed you, or the fact that she was your best friend. Either way, you were doing this for that promise of safety and peace, for a world where you could raise a child with the man you loved.

By the time night fell and the area had been scoped out, you all had your positions.

When the two guards finished accepting Gregory’s head from Andy, Daryl slit one guard’s throat and stabbed him through the head so he wouldn’t turn.

The other guard came back out to return Craig to Andy, but he was quickly disposed of by Michonne. When his body fell to the ground, you took the distinct displeasure of axing him in the head.

In the quietest attack your group had committed to date, you all entered the building like church mice, your guns held high and ready to shoot.

It truly felt like you were some kind of soldier raiding enemy territory, considering the heavy artillery you were wielding.

“Check the doors,” Rick whispered as you all filled the hallway. “Find the arsenal. We take them out.”

You split up with Aaron and Rosita. Though Daryl preferred you to stay by his side, if there was anyone else he trusted to keep you safe, it was Aaron.

Turning down another hall, you gestured to the first door and slowly pushed the door open with an ever so slight creak. Tiptoeing into the small, dark room, you and Aaron each silently decided to take one of the two men sleeping in cots on either side of the room.

Upon further inspection, you noticed yours was actually a woman, who appeared to be about your age. You had your knife raised, and pointed down directly at the woman’s eye socket, but you just stood there shivering, the faint reflection of the light from the hallway where Rosita was keeping watch flickering softly with each jitter of your nervous body.

Peeling your eyes from her face, you looked up on the wall beside her bed to see a framed photograph of the woman and a man on their wedding day.

They were smiling, of course they were smiling. It was the happiest day of her life, you were willing to bet. Who wouldn’t be happy promising yourself to the person you loved most in the world? That was how you felt on your wedding day, so why wouldn’t she?

Looking down again, you noticed the band on her finger as she breathed softly in a deep sleep, her hand resting on her chest and moving slowly with her diaphragm.

You couldn’t even hear the squelching from Aaron’s kill before he was standing next to you again. His presence caught your attention, and you looked at him with wide eyes.

You shook your head, tears threatening to well up in your glassy eyes at any moment. Gently, Aaron pushed you aside so he could do the job himself. You turned yourself around and incidentally witnessed the body of the man in the other cot. His face was soaked in blood from the puncture wound where Aaron stabbed him, but you hoped he at least had a peaceful expression on his face.

Maybe you were a bad person. You didn’t know anymore. The line became blurrier and blurrier with every moral dilemma that bombarded you practically everyday since the beginning.

Maybe your group were the bad guys, the villains of this story. You never thought you were before, but what you were doing now… what you had to do just to stay alive… It seemed like the kind of thing only psychopaths would do.

“It’s done,” Aaron whispered to you from behind your back. He rested a hand on your shoulder. “Come on.”

It wasn’t done. You, Rosita, and Aaron took turns rotating between a few more rooms, with one of you always standing watch in the hallway. You did kill one man, and that was enough to get your mind flooded with questions that had no answers, and images that would stay with you long after the blood dried.

Just after you and Rosita finished putting down the two men in that room, a fire alarm rang out from nearby.

The three of you began running back down the corridor and through a few more winding hallways until you spotted a few Saviors. Aaron pulled you into a room, and Rosita split up from the both of you.

As footsteps approached, you and Aaron huddled together behind the door, your guns ready to fire if anyone should come in.

The danger, however, was inside.

Before you could completely turn around to face the presence you felt, a large man came barreling towards the two of you with a beer bottle in his hands.

Jumping out of the way, he smashed the bottle into the door, then swung around to clock you in the face, so hard you fell to the ground with a thud.

The man was about to turn to take out Aaron next, but he was quick to stab him in the chest.

When the man fell down dead, Aaron lunged over his body to pick you up by your arms.

“You all right?” he asked, inspecting the bloody nose and the black eye already beginning to form.

You nodded quickly, still a little out of it if you were being honest, but ready to get the hell out of there. “Let’s go.”

The place was like a warzone now. Bullets were flying off at every turn, but you and Aaron found a path through them, all the while shooting constantly at the blurred figures you didn’t recognize.

The two of you winded through the halls, taking out several Saviors and nearly losing your hearing from the sound of the automatic weapon in your hands.

After a while of breaking down doors and killing more people than you ever had at one time, you met up with your group inside the compound.

Daryl immediately was by your side and taking your bruised face in his hands, the blood from your nose now dried and crusted. Daryl looked over at Aaron. “What the hell happened?” he asked, equal parts concern and irrational anger at Aaron in his voice.

“Got decked in the face by one of ‘em,” you said. “I’m fine.”

Daryl nodded and calmed himself down a bit. “Let’s get you home.”

Your group finally emerged from the back exit of the now empty compound. It was light out now, about seven in the morning by your estimate.

The raid was a success, but no one was happy. Your group solemnly sent off Tara and Heath on a two-week supply run, and the rest of you planned on heading back home.

Before you could leave, the nearby roaring of an engine startled all of you.

From another exit of the compound, a lone Savior came barreling out on the back of a familiar motorcycle, with mismatched parts and the loud buzzing noise you only knew to be Daryl’s Frankenstein bike.

“Son of a bitch!” Daryl yelled before running the fastest you’d ever seen him towards the bike, tackling the man after he was shot off of the speeding death machine by Rosita.

He wasn’t dead, though.

Daryl delivered a few brutal blows to the man’s face. “Where’d ya get the bike?” he yelled.

Rick pointed his handgun at the man and cocked it.

“Just do it!” the Savior yelled to him. “Like you did everyone else, right?”

You huffed as you watched the man squirm from underneath Daryl, his face bloody to a pulp from the beating.

Before you could ponder on another moral dilemma, an unfamiliar voice came from Rick’s walkie. “Lower your gun, prick.”

It was a woman, who soon revealed she had Carol and Maggie in her possession, and that she wouldn’t hesitate to kill them.

After a while of searching, you all did eventually find Carol and Maggie that day. You were relieved to see that they were all right, though they seemed frazzled by their confrontation with the Saviors. It was only further proof that they were, in fact, bad people.

Still, you couldn’t shake this feeling that they saw you as the bad guys. Who was right? There was no way of knowing. Morality, as you saw it, was subjective. One’s idea of what was right and wrong might not entirely align with another’s. This was a truth you found evident in life before the apocalypse, but it only became more accurate afterwards.

It didn’t matter now.

It was over, as far as you knew. Sure, maybe there were more Saviors. Daryl seemed to think so. That man he ran into who stole his bike, he might’ve been involved with the Saviors. How else would his bike have gotten there? Either it was stolen, or he put it there.

As far as Daryl knew, “D”, as the man was called, was still alive.

Nevertheless, the next week was spent in relative peace.

There was plenty of food thanks to the trade with the Hilltop, and everyone seemed a little less on edge knowing that the deed was done.

Still, you found yourself staying inside whenever you weren’t needed at your class or elsewhere. Daryl didn’t seem to mind since he spent a lot of his free time in the garage, and when you were home he could keep his eye on you, but it was starting to concern him.

“Hey,” he said to you as he came in from the garage. You were sitting on the sofa reading a book about cows you had picked up on a run. You figured you were going to have a cow from Hilltop as soon as the barn was built, so it made sense to read up on them. “You still readin’ about cows?”

He sat down on the couch next to you, his body weight sinking onto the cushion with a soft thud. You eyed him as he wiped his greasy hands on his red rag, and you made sure he threw it on the wood floor instead of the couch like you’d asked. He did.

You had pretty much successfully domesticated Daryl Dixon. Well, you thought, until he put his feet up on the coffee table.

“It’s important,” you sighed. “When we get some livestock going, it’ll be good to know a thing or two about them.”

Daryl nodded as he bit his lip, trying to figure out what to say to you about his concern. “You ain’t gone out much lately,” he said. “Thought you and Carol were supposed to bake cookies or somethin’.”

You looked up from your book. “I had to cancel. I just wasn’t feeling up to it.”

“You okay?”

You nodded and returned your gaze back to your book. “Mhm.”

You were okay… kind of. You couldn’t stop thinking about the people you killed in cold blood, but other than that you were peachy.

Daryl leaned closer to you until he pulled the book down and away from your face, setting it on the side table. “Known ya long enough to know when somethin’s botherin’ ya. What is it?”

You sighed and looked down at your feet. You didn’t want to tell anybody because it seemed so silly. How could you feel guilty about killing bad people you didn’t even know? It was a good question, and you didn’t know entirely why.

“It’s stupid,” you said.

Daryl scoffed. “Shut up and tell me what’s wrong.”

He wasn’t always very eloquent, but he could get to the point.

“It’s just… back at the base, where we killed the Saviors… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

Daryl nodded. He had a feeling that was what was troubling you. He knew you too well to not know. “Ain’t stupid. I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout it too. We all have.”

You closed your eyes and sighed. “There—there was this woman. I was about to… to do it, but she had this photograph. It was from her wedding day. Then I saw the ring, and I couldn’t do it. I just kept thinking… about that happening to one of us. She wasn’t any different from you or me.”

You looked down at your feet in shame. “Do… do you think I’m weak?” you asked sincerely, still not able to face him.

Daryl shook his head. “Nah, you’ve never been weak,” he said. He took a hold of your hand and squeezed it tight, then lifted your chin with his other hand so you could face him. “You ain’t weak,” he repeated, this time more sternly. “You’re strong. You… feel things. That’s your strength.”

Your lips quivered at his words. “That’s just a nice way of saying I’m a crybaby, right?”

Daryl smirked, but quickly shook his head and turned serious again. He wasn’t going to let you kid your way out of this one. “It’s true. Takes a lotta balls to be like that nowadays. Just can’t let it keep you from doin’ what you need to do. Those saviors, they needed to be taken out. You know what they can do—you heard Jesus, and Carol and Maggie… Negan wanted Gregory’s head for Christ’s sake. They ain’t worth feelin’ guilty over.”

You sniffled a little and nodded your head. “I know… and now we have more food, and we’ll have a cow soon.”

Daryl moved his hand from your chin to your cheek and caressed it delicately with his calloused thumb. “Yeah,” he said. “Just gotta get my crossbow back from that prick and then we’re set.”

You laughed. “Hey, at least you got your bike back.”

Daryl scoffed. “Yeah, douchebag didn’t even know how to ride it right.”

You rolled your eyes. “There’s a proper way to ride a motorcycle?”

“Course,” he replied. “Least, my motorcycle.”

You tossed your arms around his neck. “We’ll find you a new crossbow, honeybear.”

Daryl raised an eyebrow. “Honeybear?” He repeated the sickly sweet word with his usual gruffness.

“I’m workshopping new pet names,” you said. “How do you feel about cupcake… or stud muffin?”

Daryl shook his head rapidly. “No, no way. I’m drawin’ the line.”

You pulled him in closer to you and gave him your big doe eyes he couldn’t ever resist. “Oh, come on, snuggle bug.”

You knew you were teasing him, probably annoying him, but you just couldn’t help it. You loved the look on his face when you called him such obnoxious things. It was somewhere between rage and utter adoration.

You couldn’t admire his face for too long after the last nickname, though. Before you knew it, he was pinning you down on the couch and tickling you senseless. “Ah!” you yelled, your voice cracking with laughter. “Daryl, no! No, please, mercy!”

“You were askin’ for it,” he said, continuing to trail his fingers all over your ticklish areas, including your stomach and your underarms. Soon he was even lifting your shirt to blow a raspberry on your belly button.

“Ah!” you cried in shock at the feeling. “You’re crazy!” You laughed until you started hiccuping, but Daryl stopped you short when he plunged his lips onto yours and sucked on your mouth passionately.

His tickling died down and soon he had one hand tangled in your hair and the other massaging your breast. You moaned into his kiss at the feeling, the tingling of his deft hands plucking at your clothed nipple like it was a violin string.

He growled when you delicately trailed your hand down his back to land on his ass, where you squeezed it demandingly. You put so much pressure onto it that you began to feel his hip bones digging into yours. “You want somethin’, baby girl?”

You nodded, your nose nudging against his all the while. “You.”

If there was one thing that could get you to forget about your worries, at least for a while, it was Daryl… and especially sex with Daryl.

By morning, the evening was a blur. As usual, Daryl woke up before you. In a haze, you felt him kiss your cheek before heading downstairs to the garage to work on his bike. He’d been doting on it like it was his own child for the past week.

When you woke, you remembered that you promised to train Bev in self-defense that morning. Though you still weren’t feeling terribly social, you couldn’t bring yourself to cancel on yet another friend.

You met her by the lake as usual. She also attended Rosita’s self-defense classes, but she took your personal lessons as, in her own words, a “supplemental course.”

“Hey,” she said, waving to you enthusiastically. “I was almost worried you weren’t going to make it. Carol said you weren’t feeling good yesterday.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I feel okay today, though. Plus I gotta teach you how to get out of a choke hold.”

After stretching and a few rounds of gossiping, you did just that. You showed her a few different techniques for different situations. Starting with a side choke hold, you showed her how to stun the attacker by punching him in the gut or the groin (you preferred the latter technique). Then, you instructed her to pull the attacker’s head back and expose his stomach to begin punching him there until the wind was knocked out of him and push him away, allowing time to escape.

“How the hell did you learn how to do that?” Bev asked you, out of breath from the demonstration.

You panted as you held your hands on your hips. “Daryl taught me a while back,” you said. “He taught me everything I’ve shown you, actually.”

Bev’s eyes widened. You had taught her a lot, and a lot of it were very niche fighting techniques one would only have to know in very specific situations. “How’d he learn them?”

You shrugged. You knew how. He often told you stories from his past which illuminated his fighting experience. In his childhood and teenage years, he had gotten into schoolyard fights and confrontations with bullies. In his twenties, he was involved in several bar fights and drunken brawls at concerts. In his thirties, he often had to defend his brother when his drug deals went awry, and he gained even more skill when the world turned.

At some point, he even had to fight his own father. That was when he was older and knew he could fight back. He left him beaten and battered, a drunken, pathetic mess cowering on the floor of his childhood home in rural North Georgia. The man absolutely deserved it—he almost hit Daryl over the head with a beer bottle, not to mention everything he had done to him before that day.

Will Dixon was his name. You hadn’t even met him, but you hated him for how he hurt Daryl. From what you gathered, the abuse began when Daryl was a very young child, just after his mother, Sally Dixon, passed away. Merle was abused, too, but he benefitted on account of being older and able to escape the home sooner than Daryl.

In any case, self-defense and survival instincts were ingrained in the Dixon bloodline, albeit under rather unfortunate circumstances.

You couldn’t tell all that to Bev, though. It took Daryl long enough to open up to you about his past, and you were the person he trusted most in the world.

“He used to take self-defense classes,” you lied. It wasn’t a particularly creative lie, but it was a lie nonetheless. You considered Bev a friend, and you hated lying to friends, but it was better than revealing something to her that Daryl didn’t want most people to know. “Mixed martial arts and things like that too.”

Bev nodded. “Smart. My dad always wanted me to take those, never got around to it though. What did Daryl do before all this, anyway?”

Oh no.

This was why you hardly ever brought up Daryl around the Alexandrians—they were always so curious about him. He had been trying hard lately to be more friendly to them, but Daryl’s definition of “friendly” was making eye contact and engaging in idle small talk, which he wasn’t the most skilled at.

“He… was a mechanic.” Another lie. Though he did work on cars freelance, he never held the actual title of mechanic. “Worked on cars and stuff.”

“Oh, that makes sense. He’s always fiddling with that bike and fixing up the cars.”

You nodded. “Yep, that’s Daryl.”

“What about me?” Daryl’s guttural voice came out from behind you, nearly making you jump as he appeared simply out of nowhere. Even Bev, who was already facing him, didn’t see or hear him. He was the sneakiest son of a bitch you ever met.

You turned around to face him. “Oh, um… I was just telling Bev about how you know how to work with bikes and things like that.”

Perfect medium.

You were getting better at this whole lying thing. You preferred to call it “enhancing the truth,” though.

Daryl nodded awkwardly, trying to give Bev eye contact all the while. She smiled at him, though you could tell he kind of terrified her. “I can’t even change a tire,” she joked awkwardly.

You laughed nervously. “Me neither,” you said.

Daryl scoffed. It was his attempt at laughter. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Hey, can I talk to ya, (Y/N)?”

Bev quickly took the hint. “I’m gonna go get some water from my house. I’ll be right back.”

You nodded in acknowledgement before she jogged across the street to her brownstone. You turned your attention back to Daryl. “What’s up?”

“Denise’s got me doin’ a run to this pharmacy,” he said.

You sighed. You hated when he went out. “You’re going with someone, right?”

Daryl nodded. “Rosita… and Denise.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Does she know how to fight?”

“No,” he said. “But she refuses to stay here. Said she’d go on her own if we didn’t agree to go with her.”

“Well, how long will you be gone?”

Daryl shrugged. “Not long. It’s pretty close and we got a truck. Be back before dark.”

You nodded, a little relieved that he wouldn’t spend a night outside the walls. “Okay, just be safe, all right?”

Daryl nodded. “I know,” he said. “You always tell me.”

You cupped his face in your hands and pressed a short kiss to his lips. “Because I don’t want you to forget.”

An exchange of “I love you’s” and Daryl was gone. Bev came back a few minutes after he left, being sure to give the two of you ample time to talk.

“Everything good?” she asked.

“Mhm,” you responded. “He’s just going out on a quick run with Rosita and Denise. Medical supplies.”

Bev could hear the worry in your voice. She rested a hand on your shoulder. “He’ll be fine,” she said. “He’s a tough cookie.” You laughed at the phrase. “Tougher than Eugene, that’s for sure.”

That was right—Eugene had gone out with Abraham earlier, too.

It didn’t take you long after meeting Bev to figure out that she had a thing for Eugene. It was surprising; Eugene seemed to have a thing for every other woman, namely Rosita.

“Eugene will be fine, too,” you assured her. “I mean, he’s with Abraham.” Eugene wasn’t a fighter, not in the slightest, but Abraham was. “You tell him how you feel yet?”

Bev sighed. “No, not yet. I’m too nervous. I’ve barely even spoken to him, anyway.”

“It’s like ripping off a bandaid,” you said. “Just gotta get it over with. You can’t keep fawning over him. Who knows, maybe he feels the same. But if you're looking for advice, I'd say getting a little drunk is your best bet. Gets you a little more... confident.”

She sighed. “I don’t know…”

“Tell you what,” you began, “when he comes back, you are going to tell him the minute you next see him.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Or what?”

You smiled. “Or I’ll put you in a choke hold myself.”

Eugene did come back later that day, along with Abraham, Rosita, and Daryl.

However, Bev didn’t get the chance to reveal her crush to him as he had been grazed with a bullet and was immediately rushed to the infirmary by Daryl and Abraham.

As he waited outside the infirmary, you ran up to him and hugged him as you usually did when he came back. “Thank God you’re okay,” you said, resting your chin on his shoulder.

When you noticed he wasn’t hugging you back, you pulled away. Immediately, you saw the shame in his face. “What happened?”

He lowered his head and you swore you heard him sniffle. He didn’t have to say anything as you put two and two together. Denise didn’t come in through the gates with them.

She was gone.

Dead, to be precise.

“The arrow,” Daryl said in a low voice as he sat on your sofa looking down at the steaming cup of chamomile tea you had made for him, “just… went right through her eye. That son of a bitch, the one who took my bow, he did it.” He looked at you seriously. “Think he’s one of ‘em.”

You knew what he meant, but you didn’t want to believe it. “Who?”

“The Saviors,” he said. “They tried to take our shit, tried to get us to take them back here and take more.”

That was, indeed, the M.O. of the Saviors.

You swallowed hard. “They won’t find us,” you said, trying to convince yourself just as much as Daryl.

He shook his head. “Shoulda killed that prick when I had the chance. I let him go… felt bad for him.” Daryl scoffed at the idea. “I was weak.”

“It’s like you said—feeling is a strength. Just because you felt bad for him doesn’t mean you’re weak. There was no way you could have known what he was.”

Daryl nodded, though you knew he still blamed himself. No matter how many times you told him not to look back at what he could’ve or should’ve done, he always did.

“I’m gonna find him,” he said. “Gonna kill him for what he did.”

You stroked your hair with the hand that wasn’t holding your own cup of tea. “You will,” you said. “But don’t kill yourself trying to do it.”

Things were becoming complicated.

If Daryl was right about Dwight, as D was also known as, there were more Saviors than you all had initially thought.

In any case, everyone in Alexandria was beginning to gear up to fight if need be. Word traveled fast about Daryl’s run-in with Dwight and his men. Weapons were distributed that day, and more and more people were signing up for Rosita’s training.

Whoever Dwight was, he was a threat. It was pretty clear that he was most likely working with the Saviors, but they hadn’t found Alexandria yet, and that was a relief to you all.

The means, it seemed, hadn’t reached an end at all.

There was fear in the air, and a quiet that seemed all too quiet, as if something imminent was threatening to break it.

Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs of any kind are always appreciated!

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357 notes · View notes

sunder-soul · 3 years

Note

okay but like... tom (if he was like actually able to love and have emotions) dating the biggest ball of fluff and sunshine who’s literally known as the only nice slytherin,,,, they’re like really clingy and are always clinging onto him and he tries to get annoyed but they’re just so cute that he stands there like 😐 not even bothering to push them off. and omg when he’s being all dark and stuff like “i will kill your friends and family if you leave me” they assume he’s joking and respond with stuff like “i would never leave you silly”... stop i’m crying😭😭

I took some creative liberties with this so it ended up a lil different, but I kept the core essentials of your prompt 💖 Thanks for this!!

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Dangerous

Summary: Ball-of-sunshine Slytherin Reader encounters a hint of Tom’s dark side for the first time, but it doesn’t necessarily go how Tom expects.

Wordcount: 1.3k

Content warning: none

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

He doesn’t even hear you before it’s too late. You collide into him full-force outside the Great Hall, nearly knocking him back a step with the pure velocity of the hug.

“Hey!” you beam. “How was Potions?”

“It was fine,” Tom says mechanically, even-faced as he gently leans forward and sets you back on the ground – though neither of you step away, and your arms are left around his neck as you grin up at him.

“Fine, huh,” you laugh, “geez, don’t blow me away with all the details, Tom.”

Tom visibly hesitates, frowning slightly as he looks down at you, but right as he opens his mouth to say something another voice rings out.

“Can’t you take a hint?” scoffs Lestrange. “Get off him and go be a disgrace to Slytherin someplace else.”

“Disgrace to Slytherin?” you echo in amusement as you look over at the motley gang of boys always following Tom around. “I’ll have you know that last term Professor Beery told me that I was a delight to have in class.”

“Beery’s an idiot, and you’re not welcome here,” Avery snaps.

“Just because the only time you’re a delight to have in class is on your way out, Avery,” you say teasingly, before looking back at Tom and sliding your hands down to his shoulders. “Hey, I gotta go, I promised Rutherford that I’d help him with the Astronomy assignment before dinner –”

“Rutherford? You’re wasting your time with that idiot?” Black snorts.

“ – but I’ll see you later,” you grin, ignoring Black’s comment entirely as you step back from Tom, “make sure you actually eat something at dinner, Riddle, hugging you just about gives me a paper cut!”

You’re gone before any of them can say another word, your robes billowing wildly behind you as you dash away.

“Why do you put up with that, Riddle?” Lestrange mutters, shaking his head. “It’s embarrassing.”

Tom wrenches his eyes off of your retreating form and steps through the doors into the Great Hall. “It’s harmless,” he says blankly.

The boys shoot each other curious looks but they follow him in silence – they know all too well the consequences of disagreeing with Tom Riddle.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Why are you making me do this?” Tom says flatly, looking around the common room disinterestedly.

You carefully slide the parchment under the glass that Tom was holding, trying to not accidentally sandwich the spider’s legs. “Hold still,” you say seriously, “I’ve nearly got it.”

The spider had crawled across the huge circular study table in the corner of the Slytherin common room about five minutes prior and had made Matilda Greengrass shriek at the top of her lungs.

“I thought you were afraid of spiders,” Tom mutters.

You smile absently, attention captivated by carefully lifting both the glass and the parchment. “I am.”

“Then why aren’t you just killing it?” he asks with a curt wave of his hand.

“Don’t be silly,” you laugh, turning to the stairs. “Now are you coming or not?”

“Where are you going?” Tom demands, but it’s no use – you’re already halfway up the stairs. He grits his teeth, but a second later he follows after you.

“We’ve got to put it outside, don’t we?” you say brightly when he catches up to you.

“You’re breaking curfew to put a spider outside?” he asks, exasperated.

“I’ve got a prefect with me, I’ll be fine,” you say with a wink.

Tom looks away, his expression stony, but he still follows you down the dungeon corridor. “That’s why you asked me to help you?” he asks flatly. “An alibi to avoid detention?”

“More like an alibi for your company,” you grin.

Tom looks back at you impassively, and he doesn’t speak another word until you’re returning to the common room with an empty, spider-less glass. “You should be more careful whose company you seek,” he says evenly.

“Should I?” you smile, glancing at him. “Are you talking about yourself?”

“Everyone knows you only see the good parts of people,” Tom says smoothly, his fingers lacing behind his back as he takes long, even strides beside you, “but it could be very dangerous to ignore the rest.”

“You think I’m ignoring the dangerous parts of you?” you laugh.

Tom looks at you, expression impenetrable. “Does that amuse you?” he asks softly. “I could be anything, after all.”

“Are you going to try to convince me that you’re a secret mass murderer?” you say teasingly.

Tom laughs, much too coldly. “Perhaps not a mass murderer,” he says contemplatively, looking around the corridor with detached interest. “But perhaps I’ve done other things you’d find… abhorrent.”

You draw to a halt and catch his arm, making him stop, too. “You’re being serious,” you say in realisation, frowning.

Tom doesn’t say anything, he only looks down at you with cool, impassive eyes like he was considering his options. Suddenly the dungeon corridor seems too big and too empty, the air colder and darker than moments before.

“Are you dangerous, Tom?” you ask, barely above whisper.

“What would you do if I was?” he replies softly, his head tilting slightly as he turns to you.

Your stomach twists but you try to ignore it. “I’m not sure,” you say slowly. “That might depend on how you’re dangerous.”

Tom’s lips curve into a small smirk and he takes a single step towards you that makes your pulse triple. “Would you really like to know?” he murmurs, lifting a hand and – so gently that your skin erupts into goosebumps – trailing his fingers down your cheek. “Should I tell you what I’m capable of? Would you still want my company afterwards?”

“Are you trying to scare me?” you whisper, swallowing the trembling feeling in your chest.

“Are you scared?” Tom breathes as he steps towards you again, pushing you backwards. Your back hits the wall and you stare up at him, eyes wide. You swallow hard as Tom’s fingers delicately take hold of your jaw and tilt your face up to his, trying to stop your knees from shaking.

“Is that why Lestrange and the others follow you around even though you obviously don’t even like them?” you ask with the faintest tremor in your voice. “Are they afraid of you?”

Tom’s smirk grows and his fingers trail the curve of your jaw and down on your neck, leaving shivers in their wake. “Observant, aren’t you?” he whispers, watching his fingertips brush your skin with interest. “A true Slytherin after all...”

“It would be easier, wouldn’t it?” you manage to say.

Tom’s fingers grow still against your skin, a minute crease appearing between his brows as his eyes dart up to yours. “Easier?” he repeats sharply.

“If I were scared of you,” you whisper, “that way I’d leave you alone.”

His dark eyes flick between yours like he hadn’t been expecting your response.

“Maybe you’re the one who’s scared,” you breathe.

Tom laughs again, a single derisive scoff as he lifts his jaw and looks down at you. “And what about you should frighten me?” he asks contemptuously.

“Maybe you’re scared that I actually like you,” you say quietly, “and maybe it scares you that you like being liked.”

Tom’s eyes widen and his hand drops from your neck like you’ve burned him as he steps back quickly. “It’s late,” he says harshly, looking away down the corridor. “You should get to your dorm.”

You frown. “What about you?”

“I have patrols,” he says curtly, turning on his heel and leaving without another word. You watch him go for a moment and then turn back to the Slytherin common room, your heart still beating fast.

The feeling of Tom’s fingers trailing feather-light across your skin haunts you until you finally fall asleep.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

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#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #slytherin reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle imagines #prompt #dark tom #minific #established relationship #anon #dangerous #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fanfiction #gn reader

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kohakuarisaka · 3 years

Text

Trial By Fire (chapter 2 of 2)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Hawks stopped by your apartment, asking for a patch up, and then asked for so much more.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Role reversal: Keigo is a villain and Touya is a hero. Liberties were taken with Hawks’ quirk and is non-canon compliant. This fic is not nice to Touya. Reader and Hawks smoke. Reader has a quirk. Reader is a female with descriptive female genitalia. This fic contains graphic sexual content, including penis in vagina sex, oral sex, spanking, dirty talk, biting, degradation, and knotting. Consensual ♥

Keigo’s appearance in this fic was inspired by this lovely art piece!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

[ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

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Todoroki Touya was a prince.

Being born to a top-ranking hero was almost the same as being born to royalty. Everyone recognized his name, his quirk might as well have been trade-marked, and he had lots and lots of daddy's money.

If that wasn't enough, Touya was incredibly handsome, too. He had a full head of stunning, bright red hair and beautiful, shiny blue eyes. His smile was charming and voice was hoarse and suave.

He was a skilled fighter, always topping the rankings at UA, the talk of all 'up and coming' news articles back in his teen years. His quirk was flashy and powerful, nearly unstoppable; but, he was also a dedicated hero that trained day in and day out to hone his combat skills.

The boy with the crimson wings couldn't have the fortune of being nobody. That would have been more preferable to his reality.

His father was a criminal, a thief and a murderer. His childhood home burned to the ground when an attempted arrest went horribly wrong, and resulted in half his body being permanently scarred by burns. But, no one would believe that a hero did that to a small boy, even if it was an accident. No, of course not.

No hero academy was going to accept someone with such a reputation, with a name like Takami, with a history of bloodshed, with the evidence smeared across his skin for all to see. He was in and out of foster homes for years before he could get his own place, funded by petty crimes and gang activity, the only way he could survive.

Touya was a prince-

-and Keigo was a gutter rat.

He wasn't the least bit surprised when you told him that Touya had asked you out, even less surprised when you told him that you said yes.

Of course you couldn't resist Touya. He was everything any girl could possibly want, and he could give you a hell of a lot more than Keigo ever could: fancy dates, lavish gifts, a nice family to go home to, a name with a shining reputation.

Touya could make you happy.

And so, Keigo stopped chasing you. He stopped hoping anything more would amount to your relationship. But, even if his life depended on it, Keigo could never stop wanting you, thinking about you, loving you. No one was like you, not by a long shot. No one understood him like you did.

But, you belonged to Prince Touya.

... ..

Hawks woke in a cold sweat, torn from a nightmare. He bolted upright, eyes scanning the room, panting lightly in a daze. His bare chest glistened with the evidence of his agony and his wings flexed out, feathers taut and sharped at the ends, defensive.

He glared at the unfamiliar walls, legs tangled in warm blankets. It took him just a moment to remember where he was.

There was a photo pinned to the wall by your desk: him and you at a spring carnival during your first year of high school. Your hair was longer back then and he had a black eye from a fight with some upper classmen.

The pillows and blankets on your bed were so soft and freshly washed, the scent of the fabric softener still wafting. You had dug out extra pillows and sheets for Hawks when made it clear he was intending to come around a lot more often.

Your apartment, your bedroom, your bed: that's where he was. The only thing missing from the room was you.

Hawks pulled himself out of a bed with a groan and snagged his sweat pants off the floor, where they had been discarded when he arrived. He decided to skip the underwear and just pulled the loose fitting pants on with a tired groan.

He didn't need to search the apartment to know you weren't inside. His feathers weren't picking up any vibrations from footsteps or breathing. It was too still, too quiet.

Confident of where you were, he opened one of the windows in your bedroom, nearest your desk, and shimmied onto the outer ledge, hoisting his torso through first before bringing his legs in until he was hanging outside. He kicked off the side, beat the air once with his wings to gain some momentum and flew up to the roof.

You let out the most undignified yelp when he floated up over the side of the building, bare feet toeing the edge where he landed, giving you an innocent, drowsy look.

"Holy fuck, you scared me," you hissed at him.

It was almost 1 in the morning, and you had slipped on a loose shirt and baggy shorts to head up to the roof for a smoke. Unsurprisingly, you were alone at this hour, able to enjoy the ambiance of the night without one of your neighbors mouth breathing or trying to strike up a conversation. They weren't bad people; but, you didn't want their company.

Even from up this high, you could hear passing cars, the soft squeaking of breaks and the occasional squeal of tires spinning on asphalt. Distant lights were constantly changing: traffic control, cars coming and going, people in and out of their crowded apartments.

"You're not cold?" Hawks asked as he approached you.

"Not really," you answered softly.

Despite that, Hawks flattened against your back. His hands dragged up and down your arms as if to warm them before winding around your waist. You felt more than saw his head droop over your shoulder. As he pressed in close, you felt what was his very shirtless chest fall against your back and the unmistakable outline of his cock against your behind.

"I see you didn't bother dressing," you scolded him, lacking any real malice.

"You like it," he challenged, reaching for your cigarette.

Before he could grab it, you brought it to his lips for him, turning your head to try and face him, despite the awkward angle. You watched him puff the end faintly before huffing out smoke away from you.

"Ohh," he hummed. "You bought the fancy ones this time."

"They're not fancy," you retorted gently.

He flapped his mouth, about to insist you let him buy the next pack. However, he caught himself, remembering how well it went last time. It had resulted in a fight, and you kicked him out, nearly pushing him out the window, not that he couldn't handle that, of course, and it was a funny memory, now that it was over.

Besides, if he was being honest, it was really hot when you yelled at him. Maybe not so much this time since it put him in the doghouse for a week. But, the makeup sex was definitely worth it.

You didn't want his money; 'blood money', you had called it. You adored him, maybe even loved him, wanted him, longed for him; but, you had no desire to take any of his dirty money.

You weren't delusional enough to think that that made you a good person, or somehow morally superior, not to Hawks, or anyone else for that matter. It was a choice that you had made for yourself, to try and get your life on the right track.

Maybe, letting Hawks into your bed was counter productive. He was a wanted villain, after all. Business could follow, even if he worked hard to prevent that. If Touya found out-

You shuddered at the thought, mind racing with the possibilities of what could happen. You didn't want to see Touya ever again, let alone talk to him; but, there was no guarantee that your paths would never cross again. Would he be mad? Would he try to hurt Keigo?

Sharply, you turned your head and kissed at his cheek, lips smearing across the burnt half of his face, as if trying to reassure yourself that that wouldn't happen. Hawks hummed, and you felt the vibration travel along his chest and throat and onto your skin.

"Don't burn your fingertips," he scolded you softly in a hoarse whisper, snatching your cigarette from the burning end.

You had been so lost in thought, you failed to realize the cinders were nearing your fingers, the flame having almost reached the end. You watched Hawks roll it between his fingers, drawing the paper into his palm where he crushed it. The flame died and he opened his hand, letting the wind carry the burnt remains away.

"Kiss me," you breathed, so wrapped up in the moment that you didn't care that you were outside.

He obeyed with a growl, hands grabbing at your waist harshly to spin you around. One hand flattened at the space between your shoulder blades, holding you tightly to his chest while he arched down and captured your mouth.

You heard and felt his wings beat the air, powerful and unyielding: an intentional display of dominance, most likely, that should have made your eyes roll and not your heart flutter. But, you had always been soft for Keigo, and this advancement in your relationship had only made that worse, until you became putty in his hands.

He clearly really liked to play with putty. It was bad enough that he was constantly twisting and turning your body to see what kind of positions he could put you in: something that you, unfortunately, found far more arousing than you should have. He loved to poke and prod, see what kind of noises he could get out of you. He also loved to see how far he could push your limitations.

"Baby," Hawks growled against your mouth, eyes hungry as he took you in.

"Let's be crazy," he suggested, low and hoarse, with a slight edge that made him sound like a stupid teenager again.

He tugged you in close, shamelessly rubbing his erection against your closed abdomen, and making his intentions known.

"Hell no," you retorted, smoothly, sure, but lacking in any real confidence in your rejection.

"Come on," he urged, hands and arms sliding away so he could skirt away from you.

You watched Hawks step towards the edge of the roof with the kind of confidence you would expect from a man that could fly. He casually sat down, rotated to sit longways, one leg spread out for balance while the other rested right at the edge. He leaned back, spreading one wing out along the gravely rooftop, while the other drooped over the side, feathers long and fluttering in the breeze like a crimson, tattered flag.

Hawks crossed his arms behind his head and laid back in full, looking boneless as he stretched out. He peered up at you with a wicked grin, eyes bright as they reflected the distant street lights.

"You're fucking ridiculous," you snapped at him, realizing too late that you were smiling dumbly at the shamelessly display in front of you. Your words lacked any real weight. Rather, you sounded amused or impressed, not angry.

God damn it.

"You love it," Hawks retorted with a soft laugh.

"No," you commanded, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Come on," he urged, rolling your name off his tongue like it was a delicious, sinful delight. "It'll make for a great memory - great story. Tell all your friends you fucked some guy on the edge of the roof. No risk: you know I won't let you fall."

"I wouldn't say 'some guy', even if I had friends to tell," you said to him grumpily, settling a weak glare on the winged villain.

Hawks removed his crossed arms from behind his head, placed one hand on the roof for balance, and leaned up. His cocky expression was gone, replaced with something soft, almost nervous, like he feared he misheard you.

"You'd tell them it was me?" he asked.

"Obviously," you uttered back.

A genuine smile found its way onto Hawks' face. Maybe, he was more deceitful than you gave him credit for. Maybe he knew damn well that you couldn't resist that face, that smile that lit up your heart, those mismatched eyes. Only foolish girls let themselves believe nonsense.

Maybe, you could be foolish sometimes.

You approached Hawks and he leaned back, excitement clawing its way onto his face as he realized he was going to get what he wanted. You smacked his chest and he fell back with a rough laugh.

A slight tug pulled his pants down enough to spring his cock free, already fully hard and leaking against his abdomen. Some distant thought was that you should have been surprised; but, Hawks had proved to be quite the animal, with such a miniscule refractory period and ready to go without much persuading.

You carefully slid on top of him, one leg braced on the roof against his side, while the other dangled over the edge. The weightlessness had you reeling back with a frightened whimper. Hawks grabbed your leg and pressed it tight against his side, keeping you planted on his lap.

"I got you," he whispered soothingly. "I got you, baby. I won't let you fall."

The bastard could fly. He was used to feeling weightless, to feeling nothing beneath his feet. You were not, and the very real risk of slipping over the edge was ever present when you felt the breeze, felt the lack of something beneath your heel.

However, when you planted yourself on Hawks, who was partially dangling over the side, you felt grounded. He felt sturdy and strong beneath you, no fear in his posture, arms and legs firmly planted, wings spread out to balance himself. He wasn't waddling back and forth with uncertainty.

It barely took you a second to relax, to feel safe when his hands gripped your thighs, holding you securely against his weight. Of course he could catch you; but, you doubted he would let you fall in the first place.

Sooner or later, you were going to have to learn to tell him no; but, that didn't have to be today.

"Have you done this before?" you dared to ask.

"Not with a partner," Hawks answered quietly.

You barked out a laugh at his answer, and watched a cheeky grin appear on the villain's face.

"What? Can a guy not jack off on the roof?" he barked.

"You're fucking horrible," you chuckled, slapping at his bare chest.

"I didn't splooge over the edge," he added on.

"You're ruining the mood," you scolded him.

Still, despite those words, and the obviously fact that he had in fact not ruined anything, you reached between your legs and grabbed at the hem of your shorts. They were wide enough that you could just pull them to the side-

Hawks choked on his next breath. You glanced up at his face. His head was angled down so he could steal a look at your sex so effortlessly becoming bare.

"Fuck," he wheezed, as if he hadn't seen you naked dozens of times by now.

Bare of underwear, fabric loose enough to just shift aside, you angled your hips until his cock caught on your folds. Hawks moaned when your wet slit trailed across his length, literally dripping over him.

"-ooohh, you're wet," he hissed softly, sincerely surprised at the discovery.

"You fucked me just a few hours ago, you animal," you retorted smoothly. Your level tone contrasted sharply with the sudden whimper that escaped you when his tip hooked on your entrance.

"Heh. Made you scre-"

Ah, you loved when Hawks gave you perfect opportunities to cut him off. You shifted your hips and sank down, enveloping his length in moist heat, and Hawks' words dissolved into a weak moan. There was no ache, as you were still prepped from earlier, likely still leaking some of him, as well.

Hawks wasted no time laying a hand against your lower abdomen. His thumb dipped between your folds and flicked skillfully at your pearl. The harsh texture of his calloused fingerprint had you whimpering and twitching. His other hand gripped your waist and guided you slowly up and down his length.

"Look down," Hawks instructed, not demanding, not crude, but soft and guiding. His eyes displayed a sort of devotion and hunger that had you helpless to do much other than obey.

Your eyes directed to the ground below, over sweeping floors, dozens of windows and a couple fire escapes. This high up, the ground looked so far away, cars like pill bugs you'd see waddling along the concrete at the community garden. Something electric shot through you, catching your breath in your throat, and Hawks let out a hoarse curse, hips shuddering.

"Fuck, you got tight," he hissed.

His hand let go of your sex and lifted up to cup your face. He turned you to face him, nudging your cheek lovingly with his knuckles. Immediately, you realized, it was his burnt hand.

You turned your head to kiss at his skin, tinged red from thick scar tissue and wrinkly. Slyly, he dipped his thumb into your mouth, the same that had been dipped beneath your folds.

"Don't be scared. I got you, baby," he cooed while you sucked the digit clean.

You smiled and laughed softly, popping his thumb out of your mouth with a lewd, wet noise. "Normal people are scared of heights, pretty bird."

"You're special," he protested, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip.

That praise had your heart fluttering, and you mentally scolded yourself for acting like a school girl.

He pressed down and dipped his thumb back inside, coaxing your tongue out until it lulled over your bottom lip. Normally, you swatted his hand away when he did things like that. But, it was difficult to resist when he was looking at you like that. One gold and one milky eye took you in with a heated gaze while he gently panted through slightly parted lips.

"That's a good girl," he praised, dragging the pad of his thumb over your tongue.

You likely looked ridiculous like this, impaled on his lap with your tongue hanging out. You almost wanted to smack him and tell him to quit; but, Hawks' hand retreated before you could tell him off.

That same thumb returned to your pearl, pressing down with just the right amount of pressure. He lifted his lips a little, encouraging, the corners of his lips threatening to break into a pleased grin. You gently moved along with him, finding harmony in a steady rhythm that had pleasure sparking at your guts.

Your eyes wandered, taking in his aroused expression, exploring the plains of his muscular chest, across the burnt skin on one half of his body, to the red feathered wings that jutted out from behind him. You didn't look over the edge again; but, the sounds of the city were ever present, reminding you of where you were.

"Someone could see," Hawks suggested darkly.

You shuddered, head lulling back, and let out a weak moan. You didn't consider yourself much of a voyeurist; but, that was oddly exciting. You were covered up well enough. They wouldn't see much of you, but the act couldn't be mistaken for anything but what it was.

Hawks shifted his hand away from your pearl and grabbed at your hip, long fingers curling around the thickest part for purchase. You didn't have a chance to consider the lack of stimulation before one of his feathers replaced his thumb, twirling and flicking insistently at your nub.

You moaned again, and let yourself go partially limp, somewhat held up by your hands braced against his chest, but more so by his stronger hands holding your center. You couldn't keep up with him, letting his hands guide you up and down to his length to his liking.

"-know how good it feels," he continued, some strain in his voice as pleasure spewed in his core.

He lost balance a little and the wing drooped over the edge flapped once. It wasn't particularly strong; but, it was enough to startle a jolt and soft yelp out of you.

Your hands slipped, and you were suddenly chest to chest. Hawks bent one leg to lift you higher on his lap, shifting the angle enough to bring him deeper and amplify the pleasure. His cheek slid against your neck and his lips met your jawline.

"You want them to know what a slut you are?" he snarled, less of a question and more of a suggestion.

The sensible side of you wanted to deny it. What good could possibly come of that? The feral side of you, that Hawks so expertly brought out, disagreed. You weren't ashamed of him. You were the happiest you had been in years. He made you laugh, he made you smile, and he made you come harder than you ever thought possible.

He kissed and bit a burning hot path across your jaw, drawing some loose skin between his molars beneath your ear, before wandering across your throat. He mouthed at your pulse, and the reality that he was a wanted murderer rang loudly in your ears.

You didn't recoil of fear or disgust. You moaned, loudly, arching your back and exposing one of yourself to him. He had to resist the urge to lift your shirt and bite at your breasts. If not for your modesty, than because your poor nipples had already been quite thoroughly assaulted not too many hours ago.

His dominant hand slid up your thigh, long, thick fingers effortlessly venturing up the leg of your shorts. He curled his hand around the back and dragged the pad of his finger along your union, gathering slick and remnants of his earlier venture.

Your cloudy thoughts didn't consider what he was doing, until that finger, now wet and slippery, was suddenly circling your other hole. That had you letting out a confused gasp. He didn't press in, just traced the tight ring of muscle curiously, and took your noise positively.

Hawks knew well enough, but the mischievous glimmer in his eyes gave it away.

"Aww. Did Touya never touch you here?" he teased.

He pressed in slightly, being answered by your muscles flinching tightly, if your lewd expression didn't tell him enough. You looked confused, maybe even a little annoyed, but the arousal was still present, thick behind the glare you tried to give him.

As inviting as the heat was, he didn't venture beyond the pad of his finger, which felt like a lot more than it actually was. It didn't hurt, but it didn't feel good, either. You didn't know what to make of it, but found yourself arching into the touch, and downright mewling when he slipped out and returned to circling the ring of puckered muscle, which surprisingly did feel good.

"O-obviously, that's not-" you hissed at him.

Still, through all his teasing and adventuring touches, his hips never ceased, forcing his cock into your sopping wet cunt again and again. The wet, fleshy sounds was loud enough to drown out the bustling city beneath you.

"No more than this," Hawks promised in a hoarse whisper, hot breath fanning out over your throat.

His fingertip eased back in, met with blistering tight heat, and you let out a strange noise, confused and perhaps a little discomforted. No, that was definitely not a place you were used to being touched. But, he wandered that territory carefully, ever akin to your desires. As new as it was, there was no denying the way that touch made your skin prickle.

"You like it," he observed slyly. "Dirty girl."

It probably would have sounded more teasing if he didn't already sound so debauched, thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to touch you as much as you enjoyed being touched. He had you wrapped around his finger. That much was certain. But, you weren't oblivious to the power you held over him.

"Keigo," his name slipped past your lips, breathless and dripping with lust. It wasn't really forced; but, you were intent on getting a rise out of him. "Keigo," and again. "Oh, Keigo," and again.

His teasing finger stopped and his hand shifted to grab at your meaty behind with an almost bruising grip. His pace was suddenly punishing, bouncing you in his lap almost ferociously while his hips pivoted to chase the sensation. He had you wheezing out breathless moans while he grunted and snarled beneath you.

"Close," he suddenly grunted, the word little more than a rumble in his throat.

"Yes," you agreed, deliriously high on the pleasure he pummeled into you.

It was impossible to know how he managed to hold off long enough to get you there first, or if it was specifically the tightening of your walls that got him there. You were mewling and twitching long before he howled out, and the heat of his seed burst inside you.

He was making a mess. You could feel it dripping down your thighs, sputtering out from his thrusting and leaking over his abdomen. Hawks didn't care, obviously, turning his head to kiss greedily at your mouth while his hips kept moving.

When he pulled back, you found yourself disappointed at the realization that he hadn't knotted. However, there was no way you were going to say that out loud. His ego was swollen enough already.

Careless to the mess, he lifted you off his length and helped you to your feet before adjusting his wet pants to at least clothe himself. Your combined fluids had made a mess all over the crotch of his pants, no doubt worse now that he tucked himself away. Your shorts were no better, and you could feel his seed leaking down your inner thigh.

The high wasn't quite over and Hawks was sporting an attractive red tint along his shoulders and chest, blonde locks an absolute mess. Still, at this moment, your focus was solely on getting back inside and cleaning up.

"You're the worst," you scolded him, sounding incredibly fond despite your insult. You took his arm instead of his hand and guided him back into the building.

Hawks swallowed a laugh and, together, you stomped noisily down the stairs. No one passed you by. If anyone spotted you, it went unnoticed. You hardly needed to drag Hawks, who was right on your tail. As soon as the door was opened, he pushed you inside, one arm wound possessively over your waist.

"Keigo!" you whined, flinching when his head ducked into your neck and gnawed at your skin.

"You got me riled up," he growled, pressing into you so you could feel how hard he still was. The sticky mess of his wet pants felt gross; but, you couldn't be bothered to care.

You wanted to tell him off; after all, you had done nothing, and he had done that to himself. But, you felt a tinge of discomfort at your core, aching and eager to be filled again. Your clit throbbed between your thighs, eager for more contact.

Hawks manhandled you onto the nearby wall, taking you by the elbows to plant your hands on the smooth surface. You didn't hesitate to make your consent known, arching your back and propping up on your toes as he roughly dragged your shorts down.

The fabric pooled at your feet, leaving your oozing sex presented to him. Your felt and heard his wings flap, so widely that they smacked against the walls in the small space. Knowing full well what he was doing, the sudden intrusion wasn't quite as surprising; but, still, he managed to force a startled moan out of you.

"Fuck," he snarled, forehead falling against your upper back.

His dominant hand reached around, circling your pearl as he found a steady rhythm. His seed from earlier oozed out, and it was equally disgusting as it was amazing. His free hand gripped your hips, holding you still so he could use you to his liking.

It felt amazing, and each shift of his hips punched a broken moan out of you. It didn't take long for you to feel it, the swell at the base of his cock, catching on your entrance, slowly working you open to take his growing knot.

"You want that, don't you?" he uttered harshly, tilting his head up to breathe the words into the space right above your ear.

Even though it was unnecessary, he made his point clear by shoving it all in, as deep as he could, and grinding, rolling his hips to let you feel the swell at the base.

You removed one hand from the wall, curved your arm back and reached blindly, skillfully finding his hair. Your fingers grabbed a fistful, rough but not enough to hurt him. Hawks snarled when you tugged him in, nails gently biting into his skull.

"You better," you whispered, demanding and hoarse, and apparently delicious enough that he had to stop his thrusts and tilt his head in for a kiss.

Suddenly, the closeness was everywhere, back to chest, thigh to thigh. You tilted your head back to make it easier to reach, and let Hawks kiss his way into your mouth possessively, first with soft lips before his tongue edged the soft skin apart. He dragged along your teeth before trailing your palate like he was tasting something divine.

Eventually, he was satisfied, parting from your lips with a loud pop, licking his own lips as if he had just enjoyed a delicious meal. He carefully peeled back, cock slipping free from your heat, hands letting go when he was confident you wouldn't fall.

An open palm collided with your behind, and the sound echoed around the apartment, drowning out your surprised squick.

"Get on the fucking bed," he all but snarled, the words clawing out through gritted teeth.

Your legs, steadier than you expected, carried you to the bedroom. Hawks, however, tackled you onto the mattress before you could make it, forcing you onto your back with his weight.

He chuckled into your skin and you squealed with laughter. Despite the impact, he was surprisingly gentle, mindful of his strength. Crimson wings flapped, nearly smacking into the ceiling. You briefly feared that he would get hurt on the ceiling fan, but immediately determined that he would be more likely to break it than be injured by it.

He peeled your shirt off, leaving you nude beneath him.

"I've made you such a slut for knots, hm?" he observed, leaning up on his knees to hover over you, and give you quite the view.

His cock was an angry shade of red, thick and heavy where it hung between his legs, almost tinted purple on the tip with the need for release. He had just a moment ago, and it made you wonder if the lack of knotting left him unsatisfied.

The beginning swells of his knot was an enticing girth right at the base, stretching the velvety skin of his shaft, and also tinted a dark shade of red. He was glistening all over, the tip oozing pre as if he hadn't come just a moment ago.

"-and I've made you a slut for me," you teased back, carefully placing your legs on either side of his waist.

He skillfully slipped into you with a pleased snarl, body slotting over yours carefully. He might not have been a giant, but Hawks was still bigger than you, enough to shadow you and leave you feeling small. He rolled his hips slowly, giving you a taste of that swelling before he began a steady rhythm.

Noises punched out of you, whimpers and moans and broken sounds that were almost his name. He balanced on his forearms, one on either side of your head to cage you in, while his legs planted on the bed and his tense abs did most of the work.

"So fucking good. Gnhnn - I don't deserve you," he babbled, uttering the words harshly into the space above your ear, tickling at your hair. "Beautiful and f-fucking perfect."

Hawks was a talker with almost no exception; but, still, despite having heard it all many times, he still managed to get a rise out of you, sweet nothings that made your heart flutter and skin prickle.

"Say you're mine," he demanded, tilting his head down to gnaw gently at your throat.

You swallowed, managing to catch your breath long enough to utter weakly, "'m yours, Keigo."

He lifted his head and dragged his forehead along your temple, huffing out dramatic breaths with each thrust of his hips. A bit more experienced now, you knew when he was close, when the catch became almost too much, the fullness dizzying and almost frightening. Your eyes fluttered open long enough to see his lustful stare, admiring the beauty of pleasure etched across your face.

You dragged your nails down his back, crying in ecstasy when the sparks ignited and pleasure soared through your core. Hawks' dominant hand roughly grabbed a fistful of the sheets, a frustrated grunt bursting from his throat before he roared, likely loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

His thrusting ceased, less he timed it incorrectly and missed this. You made a very distinct noise at the intrusion, the same sound every single time, and it echoed so loudly in his mind. He felt overwhelmed with pride, that he could make you make a sound like that, so utterly debauched and in beautiful ecstasy.

Hawks' own moans, that came out of him like a chuffing tiger, were drowned out by your delicious whimpering. If the fullness wasn't enough, his cock jerked and spurted thick, hot streams of his seed. You could feel each twitch, until he shifted forward, as deep as he possibly could go, and finally stopped.

The muscles of his knot tightened as they finished expanding, locking your cores together. Hawks' head dropped and smacked onto the sheets by your ear. You tilted your head back, nose pointed towards the ceiling as you panted, and felt his rough, staggered breath as it burned your throat.

You felt more than heard the rumbling of his chest where it pressed down on yours. It was unmistakable: the sounds of a satiated beast. The thought had you stuttering out a breathless laugh.

Hawks' nose nudged your cheek and he hummed questioningly.

"You're purring," you answered softly.

"Oh," he answered bluntly.

Luckily, he didn't try to stop it; or, he was consciously unaware of it. Either way, you hoped he wouldn't stop. You loved the sensation of being trapped with him, impossibly close and stuffed like a used sex toy. Just as much, you loved knowing that he was pleased. Shameful as it all was, he had a way of making you feel shameless.

"Baby," he cooed, voice soft and breathless, a little hoarse, like a dying engine. "Are you okay?"

Your arms and legs were still around him, clinging tight like you didn't want to let go. You were strung out and limp, sinking into the sheets, head lulled back and clearly, very pleased. Still, Hawks kissed at your jaw like he was uncertain.

"Are you okay, pretty bird?" you repeated back to him, turning your head to meet his lips with your own.

He kissed you back as opposed to answering, the soft rumbling continuing until you felt it in your own throat. One of his hands tangled in your hair, kneading gently at your skull. Eventually, he peeled back and stared down at you, mismatched eyes unwavering, like you were a specter that would disappear if he glanced away.

He was the one who would be gone in the morning, leaving only an ache in your tummy to remind you that he was here.

But, you knew he would come back.

#takami keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami x you #hawks x reader #hawks x you #villain hawks x reader #villain hawks x you #hawks fanfic #hawks smut

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tnystrk-exe · 3 years

Text

Estocolmo 2

Hannibal x Reader

Masterpost

First Chapter

Warnings: 18+ Oral M receiving, daddy kink, someone walks in

Word count: 5.7k

Chapter Two

The light streaming in through the window woke you up. You curled up in the soft silk sheets, listening to Hannibal’s hums coming from the bathroom. Deciding there wasn’t much more to do than doze, you did just that, taking your time to enjoy your Monday morning. His bed was much softer than the hand me down one you kept at home. You really could lay here forever.

It wasn’t until the bed dipped that you opened your eyes. He was all ready dressed and groomed to the nines. The navy sweater and grey trousers seemed as homey as the man allowed himself to be.

“Hello, handsome,” you greeted.

“Good morning, darling.” Hannibal cupped your face gently, smiling when you leaned into his touch. “It’s marvelous to see you so relaxed, it’s not a sight I get to see often. You’re divine.”

“Devine,” you scoffed in disbelief, “I haven’t had a glimpse of it yet, but I’m sure I look nothing less than a wreck.”

Hannibal’s thumb stroked your jaw, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. “When it’s my fault you look so utterly debauched, I can’t lie and say my pride doesn’t play a factor.”

“There it is,” you couldn’t help rolling your eyes as you dropped a kiss to his hand, “Always taking pride in everything you do. However, much to your dismay, I’m going to have to destroy your masterpiece. A shower does sound perfect right now.”

“Of course, I took the liberty of running a bath for you.”

“Sweet man,” you smiled fondly at him.

Bringing you closer he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. As always, he left you wanting more. This time though, you didn’t chase after him. The night of fun was done. All that was left was the goodbye to wrap up the event completely. Some part of you wanted to push that time back.

You hummed lightly, “You enjoy making it hard to not miss you.”

“All the sweeter when we reunite.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

He tapped your cheek playfully, “Take your bath. I’ll have breakfast ready by the time you’re done.”

Getting out of bed, you stretched. Hannibal’s fingertips ghosted along your spine. “From the looks of it, you’d be happier to help.”

“Simply admiring… You truly are a thing of beauty.” he squeezed your hip before taking his hands away, “I’ll leave some of my things for you to wear on the bed.”

Walking into the bathroom, you were taken by the soft scent of nearly familiar perfumes you’d wear, his cologne lingered ever so slightly. A perfect mix of the two. Looking in the mirror, you surveyed the wreckage. Runny mascara, smudged over lipstick, and rather large hickies scattered across your body did make you look like the definition of debauched. The neck didn’t have as much damage, but covering the few there would still be a pain. So much for keeping things hidden from others. Grabbing the pack of makeup wipes on the counter, you started cleaning up knowing you’d find it to be too much of a chore after the bath.

It was welcoming when you finally got into the still warm bath. Hot water made you relax further as your body let go of the last bit of tension it held. The products seemed to match the ones you usually used, if not make yours seem like cheap dupes. Your lip quirked at that realization, the gentleman seemed to have had ulterior motives after all.

You took your time washing up, deciding time to relax was sparse so you may as well take advantage of the small time frame you did have. A soft knock at the door pulled you back to the present. “Afraid I drowned?” You asked teasingly as the door opened.

Hannibal offered a quiet chuckle as he walked over and perched on the side of the tub, “Asleep more like.”

You didn’t bother hiding yourself. He’d probably be able to draw you from memory by now if you were being honest. “I do have a question.”

“What is it, darling?”

You gestured to the soaps, “Did you have any plans in particular for our night?”

“Not exactly. The night ended perfectly- you wouldn’t mind me saying-” Hannibal tapped your chin affectionately when you smiled, “but there wasn’t anything other than pure intentions when I purchased them. The scent reminded me of you and I thought if you drank too much or there was a storm, those kinds of things, it would be good to have something for you to use. Sending you out into possible dangers was never something left to chance. You’d be safer with me.”

“Ever the good host,” you said, taking his word for it, “Thank you for thinking of me, Hannibal.”

“Always.” Hannibal rolled up his sleeves, moving to sit behind you. “Lean back for me.”

You turned to look at him questioningly, “What are you doing?”

“I find it very important to take care of my partners just as much after. You didn’t give me much of a chance last night. While I’m here, I may as well make myself useful.”

Allowing him to turn you forward again before he grabbed the shampoo and conditioner. You sighed heavily as he massaged the shampoo in, his fingers working magic. “You took care of me,” you argued, “Asked me what I wanted and gave it to me. I didn’t want anything else.”

“It’s just as much for me as it is for you,” he stated, running some water through your hair, “I like to make sure nothing was too much or that you’re not telling me if it was.”

“I’m as good as I’ve been in a long time. Really. If I hadn’t wanted something to happen I would have stopped you. Though, if I had known things would have ended like this I would have stopped by when we had more time. Testing before winter break would have been all that much easier.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t be of service earlier,” he mused. “A difficult time that must have been for my sweet girl. Poor thing.”

The urge to sink into the water was strong as you felt the smallest bit of pride at the endearment paired with an equally small bout of jealousy that you shared it with his other partners. It was snuffed out quickly. Perhaps you’d entertain this for a while, but it wouldn’t last. He liked a life that was above and usually too stiff compared to your own. The pair of you weren’t meant to work long term and that was fine. A simple passing thing between friends was the most this would be.

Things went back to business as usual after that night. There weren't any intense feelings or need for Hannibal. There wouldn’t be any time to entertain the idea even if they had popped up. Not with this insane work piled on top of you and the final test you needed to study up on. The most you had seen him was in passing or when he’d drop off a meal every so often. Though you wouldn’t lie and say your mind hadn’t found itself wandering every so often.

There was nothing you could do about that, so instead you took shifts, grading work then studying. Rinse and repeating the cycle as long as you could handle it. Your head was pounding before you knew it, but all of this needed to be done. A little bit longer, you reminded yourself as you took a couple headache pills.

The buzzing of your phone vibrating on the desk startled you. “Hi, dad,” you sighed, stuck with this particular pain.

“Hey, pretty girl, how have you been?”

Pretty girl, you scoffed inwardly. You had to give him credit- at least he was pretending to be interested this time. That was rare. “Nothing much. Work. School. The usual. It’s been heavy lately.”

“Yeah, of course, things get like that. So listen, your mom and I are running real low late-“

“I already told you I wasn’t any good for money. I’m barely making ends meet as it is… I already sent you the last $600 I could,” you rested your head in your hands, “I’m sorry.”

“Well, what the fuck do we send you to that school for,” he shouted, “It’s a waste of time. You’re not gonna make anything of yourself. All you do is waste fucking time. Everything we do for you and you just take it all for granted. What type of selfish bitch of a kid doesn’t try to help out her parents?”

“Yeah, dad, I take everything for granted. Putting myself through school should have been a breeze. Juggling school and two jobs? Simple fucking shit right? You should know, right? Wait… you couldn’t even raise your kid could you?” You snapped the stress getting to you. “Why the hell do you always do this to me?”

No response. He hung up. The truth of the matter seemingly too much for him. No. That was too much credit. He knew you wouldn’t send him anything. Try again some other time. Sighing you set the phone down. Your throat felt like it was closing and your head was pounding. A couple tears fell, soon followed by a quiet sob. You didn’t want anyone to see, but the stress was getting to you. Try as you might, you weren’t made of stone.

You hadn’t noticed when Hannibal had walked in for a usual evening check up. “Darling girl,” his accented voice was laced with worry as he walked toward you, “What’s wrong?” Hannibal crouched near your chair as he wiped away your tears.

“Everything went to my head. It’s nothing. I’m okay,” you swallowed thickly, as you attempted to stop the crying and sniffling, not meeting his eye just yet.

Hannibal grabbed your chin gently, forcing you to look at him. “Nothing more?”

“Nope,” you shook your head, giving him a slight smile, “Just school and a headache. Thank you for checking on me. I appreciate it.”

He looked you over, not believing you but unwilling in prodding you further. “It seems a break is in order.”

“I can’t, Hannibal,” You gestured to the papers and books around the desk, “The sooner I’m done with all this the better. I just want to go home.”

Hannibal started to pick up your things, he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer this time. “We’ll go to my office, you’ll eat, I’ll grade the work and ask you questions. Follow me.” Before you can get a word in, he turned heel, leaving you to quickly scramble behind him.

The office had the same comforting feel his home did. Though you weren’t sure many besides you felt comfort in his presence. Hannibal Lecter was by all means an intimidating man, even when you did feel like you were close to him. Closer now, you corrected thinking about the fading bruises under your shirt and the sweater he had let you borrow that you had yet to return. Still there was something about his presence that invoked a feeling of calm in you, even with that spike of something questionable. He seemed to always have all the answers and knew exactly what to do with any situation.

“Here,” Hannibal placed a Tupperware and drink on your side of the desk, “You really shouldn’t be spreading yourself so thin, love. It isn’t good for such a delicate thing.”

“I’m hardly delicate.” You grabbed the food giving him a grateful smile. “I’ve got it all handled. It’s just finals and everything stacked up. The future. I stumbled a bit, is all.”

Hannibal sat on his side and started shuffling through your papers. “Nonetheless, I wish you didn’t strain yourself so much.”

“Not all our days can be a nice weekend together,” you pecked at the salad, as much as you wanted to grab some papers off the stack you knew he would never allow it, “Life is still as frustrating as ever.”

“What did they say?” Hannibal asked, nipping the problem at the bud. If you wouldn’t start the conversation he would.

You sighed, “Something along the lines of ‘waste of time’ and ‘selfish bitch’ really wasn't the worst thing he's ever said. I was just already at my endpoint. I’m pretty sure if I dropped my pen I would have had a similar reaction.”

“Being at your end doesn’t justify mistreatment.”

“I know,” you shrugged, “but I don’t have it in me to argue anymore. Deaf ears and all that. What’s the point?”

“The point is making it known that you won’t tolerate that behavior.”

“I’m just tired and disappointed. A part of me is considering just going into the world on my own. The only family that really cares has passed on, what’s the point of hoping my parents would ever consider changing.” You coughed lightly, clearing your throat. This was too much of a therapy session for your taste. “I’ve already made it up in my head that I’m going to wait a year before getting back in school. You know, save any penny I can. These past four years even with aid and scholarship money has been hell. I’m going to be 24 and there’s still just so much to do.”

“I can’t say I envy you,” Hannibal shook his head, “The uncertainty in those years is unmatched.”

“It’s hard to imagine you uncertain of anything. You seem to always know exactly what to do.”

Hannibal scoffed lightly, “Only because time has granted me certain wisdoms. When I was younger I was lucky enough to appeal to someone with my artistic talent and stories of my past. Though I’d like to think it was the former that earned me my scholarship. I may not have had the exact struggles you did, but we’ve all been through situations we needed to push past. It comes in time. Once you get there, you’ll go through life with grace.”

“Well, I don’t have any reservations about using my past. Would you be my mentor?” You joked, for the most part.

“A five year forward request,” he mused, “Are you certain you’d enjoy me that much as a mentor?”

“Someone is gonna have to teach me the ropes,” you shrugged, “We’re more than comfortable with each other and I already know how pleasurable time with you can be, why not learn a couple of things from your infinite wisdom?”

His lip quirked, “Glad to know your thoughts are nothing less than wholesome.”

“Only the purest.”

You ate your dinner as he asked questions. It was a bit unfair, probably, you knew he had helped form the test. Then again, you knew your boss and it was more than likely all of Hannibal’s work. So this little run was sure to be a preview of what to expect. Still, the questions he asked were far from simple, despite how much you studied. Sometimes a raised brow would tell you, you needed to think again. Other times you’d get a soft praise thrown your way that would immediately make you think of when he was against you.

“A few more for me, darling girl. You’re doing so well.”

Your face heated up as you remembered the exact moment he said something nearly identical.

Hannibal looked at you over a paper, a smirk playing on his lips, “You’re looking a bit distracted, are you alright?”

“You know what you did, jerk.”

“Do I?” He laughed.

You shook your head, “You’re unbelievable.”

Hannibal continued grading, rattling off questions off the top of his head. You mind however, wandered. Answering his questions absentmindedly, more preoccupied with memories than the matter at hand. The way his hands felt. His breath against your chest as he chased his high. The gentleness the morning after as he helped you into his clothes, giving you a last kiss before breakfast. A lingering regret at not getting to thank him back properly. He would be the perfect distraction now that you thought of it.

“I won’t help you if you prefer to daydream.”

“I wouldn’t be daydreaming if you didn’t decide to help me in the first place.”

“Touché.”

“Think I’m all done studying. I’m tired of it,” you sighed, stretching, “I want to do something else.”

Hannibal looked at you, brow raised. “What’s that sweet girl?”

You shook off some nerves. As much as the two of you had already done, he was still an intimidating man. His eyes followed as you stood and walked around the desk. Hannibal brought your hand up to his lips. You trailed it along his jaw, feeling the rough stubble that just started coming in, buying yourself some time to steady yourself. A raised brow questioned what you’d do next, but otherwise he leaned into your touch.

“I wanted to thank you for everything. For how good you are to me.”

“I don’t expect anything in return,” he assured.

“Yeah, I know,” you sunk to your knees in front of him, tracing your fingertips up and down his thigh slowly, looking up at him, “but I want to take care of you too.”

He toyed with a strand of your hair, looking almost bored as he leaned back in his chair. “That isn’t necessary, little one, I enjoyed watching you.” Still there was a glint of something in his eye that told you he was interested, merely teasing with the show he just wanted something more from you.

You bit your lip, pondering at what he had deemed missing. The title. A thing that had slipped past your lips embarrassingly but one he had used with stupor throughout the night. Hands settling on his knees, you pushed them apart so you could settle there more comfortably. A pout, “Please, daddy, I’ve wanted to since we met.”

“Always an eager plaything,” he sighed checking the clock on the wall, “I suppose daddy can make some time for his girl.”

That was enough for you to start undoing his belt. Despite the bored act, his half hard cock betrayed him and told you exactly how much he had been interested. You palmed him through his boxers, he didn’t give you the pleasure of hearing anything from him, but that’s alright you didn’t mind earning it. Once you were satisfied with how hard he was, you pulled him out of the boxers. Leaning back on your knees you took it in, unsure if you could fit the length of it in completely.

Hannibal took in your hesitation. Using a finger he tilted your head up to look at him in the eye. “We don’t have to do anything if you aren’t okay with it now. A change of mind is more than alright.”

“No. It’s not that I want to,” you licked your lips, as if to prove how okay you were you wrapped your hand around him, thumb tracing a prominent vein, “I was just wondering if it would fit all the way in.”

He let out an amused huff, shaking his head, “I’m sure you’ll try your best, ridiculous girl.”

Leaning in you pressed a kiss to the head. Just a little more time to work up the courage. You kissed along the shaft, mapping out every vein. Your tongue traced its way back up, catching a taste of precome that had beaded on the head. An encouraging hand threaded itself in your hair, never pushing for more than you were willing to give.

A knock at the door, interrupts the scene.

“A moment,” Hannibal calls out to the person. “Get under the desk,” he said as he started to hide away any evidence that he was with anyone. Your appearance wasn’t completely ruined, not to his taste at least, but the messed up lipstick and slightly ruined hair wouldn’t take much mental work for someone to come to the correct conclusion.

Taking his instruction you got under the desk as he fixed his own appearance, suit jacket over his arm to hide himself. Walking over to the door, “Mr. Henderson,” he greeted, pleasantly, “Please, come in.”

“Hannibal, sorry about stopping by so late,” you heard the door close as the two walked over.

“Nonsense. If anything, the company is welcomed.” Hannibal took his seat, pulling his chair in close, to make sure you were hidden away.

“I was actually going to see if I could convince you to stay.”

Mischief sparked as you grew bored with their droning conversation. Thankfully he had decided to get rid of his belt fully. It didn’t take much to free him again. He spread his legs, attempting to give you the most space possible under the cramped desk. You pumped him in your hand, getting him back to how you had him. The other hand tugged softly at his balls. You wouldn’t be able to put him in your mouth properly with this angle. Instead you satisfied yourself with sucking on the sides of his cock.

“The students adore you,” the other man countered whatever Hannibal had said, “Honestly your classes are killing Jacob’s with every exam.”

“I take great pride in my students. They are an extension of myself. How well they do is a direct reflection of my skill as a teacher,” he sighed, “I have a couple of people in mind that could fill my roll, I’ll ask people to see who’s interested.”

“Still Jacob’s is slacking too much, I may take away his student aid privileges. I see her around here more often than I ever see him.”

You gave a particularly hard suck to a seemingly sensitive spot as his hips had stuttered ever so slightly. No evidence of any misconduct came from his voice as he said, “Oh her? She is a very good girl. Motivated. Never complains about a thing.”

You felt Hannibal throb against your mouth. Taking a break you leaned your head on Hannibal’s thigh, as fun as it would to mess with him more, you knew he took great pride in his social image. Besides, you had wanted Hannibal’s full attention anyway. His hand came down to your hair, subtly showing that he was still paying attention to you to the best of his abilities.

They talked a while longer, before Henderson finally left. Hannibal had pulled out a stack of papers, motioning like he was going to work on grading, and politely asked him to lock the door as he left. When it was clear he pushed his chair away from the desk. You made your way out smiling at him.

“Someone seems very happy with themselves.”

“You enjoyed it.”

“But did you ask permission?” Hannibal asked as worked himself lazily.

You faltered slightly under his gaze, “Well...no.”

“And do you think you deserve any type of reward for that stunt?”

“...I hope so.”

“I’ll forgive it,” he decided, “only because you’re so eager and we never set ground rules. But now it’s on my terms.”

“Yes, sir,” you nodded obediently, not wanting to receive one of Hannibal's punishments just yet.

Hannibal used your hair to pull you closer. You stumbled on your knees catching yourself on his thighs. “Since you were so unsure if you could fit in daddy earlier, after that little stunt, I’m sure you’re feeling better now. Aren’t you?”

The hand in your hair pushed you down. You closed your mouth around the tip. Hannibal groaned quietly, letting you work your way down. Bobbing your head you took more of him deeper every time, but those last two inches were proving difficult. Gripping your hair, he pulled you off of him.

His breath was coming in quick pants, brushing your hair away from your face. “Do you need help, darling?”

“I can’t fit it daddy.” It came out in a breathless whine.

“Yes, you can. Be a good little mouth and let me do the work.”

Again he pushed you onto his cock. This time he took control. His hand kept you in place as he thrusted his hips up. Without the hesitation you had, he fit himself in quickly. Grinding into your mouth he let you choke around it for a while before pulling you up for air.

“See?” He choked out as he used you again, “Fucking perfect mouth… Daddy’s good girl… taking care of me like she asked.”

His grunted praises and moans were enough to excuse the tear prickling your eyes. Over and over he used your mouth to it’s extent. Seeming to enjoy it most when you did choke on him. Hannibal stopped before he came. Pulling you up off the floor and onto his lap. Wiping away the stray tears that had fallen.

“You’re too good for me.” He kissed your cheek.

“You haven’t finished.” You caught your breath as you curled into his chest. His cologne comforted you. The increasingly familiar scent carved a special place in you.

“I’ll finish later,” he promised, dropping another kiss onto your head, “At the moment, I want to make sure you’re alright. I got carried away.”

“I’m not porcelain, Hannibal,” you intertwined your fingers with his, “I like it when you’re in charge… It gives me a chance to not think of anything.”

“Even so these situations require a lot of trust from your partner.”

You shrugged, as you decided to be honest, “At the moment you seem to be the only person I trust. Besides, you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Let’s hope I don’t disappoint you.”

“I can’t see you ever doing that.”

That night Hannibal had taken you home. You received the same treatment you had received the first night you stayed at his house. Mostly you thought it was an apology of some sort for treating you roughly in his office. By some good grace both of you had classes later in the day, allowing you to enjoy the softer side of Hannibal in the morning again.

A new sweater of his joined the one that resides on your futon. You hadn’t thought twice about packing them away when you emptied your apartment out.

Life in New York was eventful to say the least. Different but fun. It had been six months since you had graduated. Your friend from high school shared an even shabbier apartment together. You made a couple friends. Picked up jobs at a bar and a bookstore.

“You’re not any fun,” Alex complained as she adjusted her makeup, “You never want to go out with me.”

“I’m tired,” you complained. “Anyway, why would I want to go to a bar when I work at one?”

“To wreak hell on someone that’s stuck in your usual gig.”

“Have fun with the guys.”

She attempted to pull you off the couch a couple more times to no avail. In truth you were happy to have a moment of peace. All honesty she was the driving force in you actually living your life and not just working the entire time. You really did love her for all of that and the experiences you had. However there were times for breaks to be had from everything. And tonight was one of them.

You showered, got dressed in a sweater and shorts, heated up some leftovers. Throwing on a bad 80’s horror flick, you spent your night in splendor. A break was rare and you were gonna use your relaxation time to its extent. Sleep overtook you sometime in the night, only to be woken up by the annoying shrill sound of your phone.

“Al, baby, I love you so damn much, but if you’re gonna bitch at me about not going out tonight. I just might be tempted to murder you,” you muttered sleepily, “I could get away with it.”

“Sweet girl, is that any way to speak to your friends?” A voice you hadn’t heard in a while asked, disappointment clear in his tone.

“Hannibal,” you said lamely, slightly ashamed that that was the first thing he heard from you in months. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you. It’s… It’s been a while.”

“It has been,” he agreed, “In fact, I called to ask if you would like to come to a dinner party.”

You looked at the clock, noting just how late it had been. “You called at two in the morning to ask me to a dinner party?”

“I’ve been busy and you didn’t leave an address for an invitation. It was… spur of the moment.”

“I missed you too,” you sighed, deciding to be the one to voice it, “Yeah, I’d love to go over.”

“Are you planning on staying with me?”

You sighed dramatically, “Suppose I can give a lonely old man some company. What, you couldn’t find anyone as entertaining as me in Baltimore?”

“I’ve got specific tastes.”

“Is that right?”

Alex walked in, the last part of the conversation hitting her ears and the alcohol in her system making her louder. “Is that the daddy? Does he know he’s ruined men for you? Ugh, can you get him over here to loosen you up? I’d appreciate it that so much.”

“I never said ruined, I just sa-“ you realized Hannibal was still on the phone, “Just please, go take a shower, I’ll make you anything you want to eat if you promise to stay quiet.”

Surprisingly she complied, only saying egg sandwich with cheese and bacon in response.

“Ruined?”

“Couldn’t let that skate by?”

“You’re the one talking about me.”

You coughed. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve got specific taste too. Just something happened with someone and I don’t know, I couldn’t get into it that same way. Like with you. They needed me to tell them exactly how… It was just awkward. It wasn’t satisfying. They were nice though.”

“You compare my experience to their experience inexperience,” he deduced. “You enjoy knowing I’ve got everything under control.”

You tried to shake away the blush. “So it seems we’re stuck in similar positions.”

“We are.”

“Hannibal,” you heard someone call out, “When were you thinking of joining us? We didn’t bother you so much you had to leave us that long.”

He asked him for a moment.

“Seems like someone wants your attention,” you commented.

“Does it bother you?”

“Not at all. Just friends having fun right? It would be hypocritical considering I just told you of my night with someone else. As long as it’s nothing serious with whoever that was, we’re fine.”

“They’re nothing. Someone’s too loud nephew. In fact I think he’s rather rude. You know I can’t stand people like that.”

“You’ll survive. Get home safe.”

“I’ll send you the directions in a moment. Have a goodnight little one.”

“‘Night daddy,” the long unused term of endearment fell from your lips easily.

“‘Night daddy,” Alex sighed dreamily from the bathroom door, “God, is the dick really that good? How could it be?”

You hung up the phone. “Can you please not do that next time? He’s really particular about things.”

She raised her hands up in defense. “Whoa, there. He can handle a little joke at his expense when he’s already been down your throat. Now where’s my sandwich?”

“I’m serious Al.” You sighed when you got up from the couch to get to work on your promise. “He makes me feel like I need to be all proper.”

“You’re fine, doll. A dime if I’ve ever seen one. I’m not gonna ruin this for you, if he randomly decided to call you this late,” she took a seat on the counter, taking the water you handed her gratefully, “Do you want that to be a long term thing?”

“Nah,” you threw the bread into the toaster, “I couldn’t live his life. Sure, I like him and I do think he’s fun to hang around. But it just feels like something that will simmer down eventually. We’ll probably meet up a couple more times and it’ll be done. It’s not like we do anything more than end up in bed and sweet talk.”

“I’m telling you, we’d be set if you asked him to be your sugar daddy. Please ask him to take care of you and be his call girl.”

“How about you?” You asked, changing the topic, “Any pretty girls?”

“This one chick at work,” she shook her head, “Fucking goddess of a woman, LN, I’m telling you. I got it bad. She’s got me waiting for her with her coffee orders in the morning like some kind of obedient little puppy.”

“You know her coffee order.”

“Exactly!”

“How’s the commitment issues?”

“I’m gonna have to fucking work through them. Unlike someone, I think I wanna try out the long term thing.”

“Hey!” You cracked the eggs into the oil, “I’m just not up for it right now.”

“Work him out of your system. We’re supposed to be having fun this year.”

You sighed, “I’m trying.”

“I’m telling you we find you a decent lay. You won’t need to be fucking around with that guy.” Your phone chimed. Alex grabbed it off the counter. “The devil works fast doesn’t he? Address and day of the party. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like. Says he’ll buy you a cute little number.”

“No, tell him I got it.”

“Thank you, daddy. I’ll make it worth your wild. Wink. Send.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I still think he’s ugly,” she shrugged, tossing your phone over, “May as well get a cute dress out of sleeping with him.”

“He’s not ugly. I’ve seen the people you’ve brought home,” You scoffed, handing over the plate.

“Reggie is a fun time! Fuck I miss Reggie.”

“Work chick,” you reminded her.

“Right right.” She argued before taking a bite of the sandwich. “Fine, we’ve both had our questionable older partner moments. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not.”

“Still never called her mommy and that’s a win in my books.”

“I should have never told you that,” you laughed, “I fucking hate you man.”

She pinched your cheek affectionately, “You had your chance to get rid of me. The return policy ran out. You’re stuck. Congratulations.”

“How long until you expire?”

Alex pretended to count it through. “We’re looking at at least 50 years more, if we’re lucky.”

You hummed, “Are you accounting for possible sickness or accidents?”

“I’m immortal for 50 years in between. No arguments at this time please.”

Next Chapter

Tag list: @charc0al-grey

#hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal x reader #slasher imagine #slasher x reader #Reader #smut

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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

208 notes · View notes

alwaysmarveling · 3 years

Text

Rock Band

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Warnings: None, just fluff :)

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Not too sure how I feel about this one, but it’s Wanda so hopefully you guys enjoy it (also I miss playing Rock Band)!!

“You ready for game night, Bird Boy?” Bucky winked.

“You bet, old man. I’m going to crush you, just you wait.” Sam smiled at Bucky with a glint in his eye and mischief clear in his voice. “You guys coming?” Sam turned to look at you and your girlfriend. “The theme is Wii games. Even Thor is coming.” You looked at Wanda for confirmation before answering.

“Yeah, sounds fun. Don’t know if we have the same need for total domination as you losers, though.” Tony laughed from his position in the chair next to you.

“Just you wait, kiddo. You’ll get into it. They all do.”

“Even if I do, I doubt it’ll be that hard to take a bunch of grandpas down,” you winked at the men before scooping some salad into your mouth.

“Since when am I a grandpa?” Sam scoffed.

“Since you became old, which, according to my calculations, has been… oh, right, always. Grandpa in spirit.”

“Well this grandpa is going to beat your ass, so just prepare yourself,” Sam challenged.

“I personally would like to go back to the ‘losers’ thing,” Steve countered. “The only loser is going to be you. Do you even know what games we’re going to be playing, Y/N?”

“Nah, but I figure whatever it is I’ll win,” you smirked.

“Oh, someone’s feeling cocky today. I’d be scared if I were you.” You turned your head slightly to your right, noting how Wanda’s lips curled upwards at Steve’s warning. “Nat has yet to be defeated in Mario Kart, and I, for one, am pretty decent at Smash Bros.”

“You’re on,” you winked at him, the table beginning to clear out. “See you tonight.”

When everyone had left the table but you and Wanda, you turned to your girlfriend. “I suck at Mario Kart. And Smash Bros,” you whined, burying your face into the crook of her neck. “What got into me?” Wanda laughed and ran a hand down your arm.

“You’re too competitive for your own good, detka. If it makes you feel better, Nat already knows you’re bad at Mario Kart,” Wanda smiled, reflecting on the many game nights the three of you and Carol had had together over the years.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better. I’m going to be a loser,” you complained, your voice muffled.

“You’ll be fine, babe. You’re good at, um... What's that game called again?”

“Mario Party 8?”

“Yeah, that one!”

“I can’t win game night with one game, Wanda.”

“Well, you’re always a winner in my book,” your girlfriend reassured you as she played with your fingers.

“Cute, Wan,” you huffed. “Maybe there is a way I could be a winner…” you smiled. When Wanda began to shake her head furiously, you began to beg. “Please, baby, you don’t have to do a lot. Just distract them a little? Please? Pretty please?”

“As much as I love you, Y/N, there is no way I’m messing with their minds just so you can win a game night.”

“I guess you have a point,” you sighed, making sure the fake sadness was clear in your voice. Wanda only laughed, brushing your cheek with the back of her hand.

“I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Besides, if you win, I can’t kiss away your pout.”

“But if I win, you can kiss me as a little ‘good job,’ you know?”

“You’re cute when you pout, though.”

“Am I not cute when I’m smiling from the pure joy of winning?”

“Weren’t you just saying you didn’t want ‘total domination’ less than five minutes ago?”

“Don’t change the subject,” you grumbled. Wanda chuckled, pressing her lips to your forehead.

“Sorry, printsessa. You’d better go practice if you want to try to win tonight.”

“I suppose,” you mumbled, pulling away from the witch. “You’re going to help me, though, right?” Your girlfriend pecked you on the lips, causing a smile to slowly form on your face.

“Of course.”

---

Later that night, you and Wanda were sprawled across your bed watching the first show that played when you turned on the TV. Your head laid in Wanda’s lap as Wanda traced invisible patterns in your hair and along your face.

“Okay, but why is ‘womb’ pronounced ‘woom’?” you spoke up. “Shouldn’t it be ‘wom’? You know, like ‘bomb’? Or what about ‘tomb’? Why is it pronounced like that? Who said that putting a ‘b’ at the end of the word makes the ‘o’ long for some words but not others?” Wanda brought her gaze down from the screen to your face, her brows furrowed and nose scrunched.

“What the heck even made you think of that?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “I’ve just been thinking.”

“Maybe you should be thinking a little less, printsessa,” Wanda giggled, drawing a swirl on your cheek with the tip of her finger.

“That tickles, Wan.” That didn’t stop the witch, who simply pinched your cheek before resuming her tracing. “But I thought you liked my thinking. I have some pretty good thoughts,” you defended yourself, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Like ‘what would happen if the French used the Statue of Liberty like the Trojan Horse?’” Wanda raised her eyebrows.

“It was a hypothetical!”

“A pretty bad one, if you ask me.”

“Well sorry, Miss Smartypants.”

“You can be smart too, dorogaya. You just… have your moments,” she winked at you.

“I hate you,” you grumbled, turning away from her so that you were facing the flashing screen, images playing across it but neither of you really sure—or caring—what was going on.

“You love me.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yeah huh.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, I-”

“Guys, game night is starting,” Tony knocked at your door.

“Okay, we’ll be down in a second,” Wanda told him. You didn’t listen for if he had left, instead turning your gazes back to each other.

“Okay, maybe I do love you a little bit.” Wanda raised her brows, her finger now running along your lower lip.

“Only a little?”

“I might be able to be persuaded otherwise, but as of right now, yes, a little.” Wanda hummed before leaning down to join your lips.

“What about now?” she asked, her lips brushing yours as she spoke.

“I love you a medium bit.” She kissed you again, this time a little longer than the last.

“And now?”

“I love you a lot a bit,” you whispered. Wanda smiled, giving you one last kiss before sitting back up.

“I love you a lot a bit too. Now, let’s get down to the living room. I believe we have a bunch of ‘grandpas’ waiting for us.”

---

“Wanda, Y/N, I missed you. How has life been treating you on Earth?” Thor waved at the two of you. You guys had little time to wave back, let alone respond, before Tony spotted you.

“There they are,” Tony clapped his hands together. “We were just about to get started. First on the agenda is Smash Bros because this one,” he aggressively pointed in Steve’s direction, “said he needs to go to bed before 1. Party pooper.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Some of us just don’t want to destroy our entire sleep schedule in one night.” He turned away from Tony to face the two of you, holding out one controller. “We’ve got one spot left, who’s playing?”

---

More than three hours later, the clock read 11 PM and the group of you had made it through several games. As you expected, you hadn’t won anything, but Wanda held her own in Smash Bros and was actually close to beating Nat in Mario Kart at one point (that didn’t last long, but you were proud nonetheless). Thor beat you all at Mario and Sonic at the Olympic Games, but with all the jumping and yelling going on at the time, you weren’t sure the tower would hold up long enough for you guys to actually finish the game.

“Are you planning on winning any time soon, Y/N?” Nat winked at you from her spot on the couch, one leg resting above the couch and the other bent at the knee on a cushion.

“Oh, shut up,” you laughed. “You know that I suck at video games.” No one else could hear your conversation with the chaos going on over Cooking Mama. That’s right, Cooking Mama.

“I actually thought you were playing us the first couple game nights. And then I finally realized you were just that bad,” Natasha chuckled, quickly having to dodge the pillow you’d thrown in her direction.

“Would it kill you to sit normally for once?”

“Yes,” she smiled, “Yes, it would.”

“How’re you doing, babe? Not too upset yet?” Wanda joined you on the couch with a peck to your cheek.

“Doing just dandy, Wan. See, I can be a good sport.” The witch laughed.

“I’ll check back in with you in an hour.”

“Hey, ladies, we were going to play Rock Band. You guys interested?” Bucky held up the controllers.

“Who won Cooking Mama?” you asked, a smirk clearly written across your face. Bucky rolled his eyes before responding.

“Clint. Now are you guys joining, or what?”

“Mm, I think I’m going to grab a drink. I’ll enjoy the show for a little bit first,” you winked as you slowly rose from the couch.

“She’s only saying that because she doesn’t want to lose,” Sam scoffed. “Y/N’s just upset she can’t deliver on her promise to beat us all.”

“Just you wait for Mario Party 8, Sam. Just you wait.”

“We don’t have that game,” Bruce whispered to you apologetically. “We let Peter borrow it for the weekend. Sorry, Y/N.”

“Are you serious?” You threw your hands up.

“Coward,” Clint teased, sticking his tongue out at you.

“Oh, calm down, Clint. Rock Band doesn’t even have a winner,” Nat chastised.

“Yes, it does! Whoever gets the highest score wins.” The redhead simply rolled her eyes before winking at you.

“Alright, I’m in. Put me on guitar. You coming, Wan?” Natasha turned to her.

“I’m a bit exhausted from the last game. Soon, though,” the witch promised.

“You want anything, babe?”

“A water would be nice,” Wanda smiled at you. “Thank you, detka.”

“Of course.” You squeezed her hand before heading toward the kitchen.

“How come you didn’t ask any of us if we wanted anything?”

“Okay, Sam,” you turned, crossing your arms, “Do you guys want anything?” A chorus of “no’s” echoed through the room. You shook your head, letting out a puff of air before continuing into the kitchen and grabbing one water for you and your girlfriend.

After a small argument over the song choice, Sam, Bucky, Nat, and Tony were all jamming out to ‘Say It Ain’t So,’ and you couldn’t help but laugh from your position on the couch. Wanda’s left arm was wrapped around your waist, holding you close to her, not that you were complaining. You appreciated the body heat, and her, of course.

Sam did have a pretty decent voice, you had to admit. You didn’t think he’d get so into it, but it was quite entertaining.

Speaking of entertaining, it was extremely difficult to hold in a giggle every time you looked at Bucky. Not that he was bad at it—he was surprisingly very good—but it was obvious he’d spent hours playing this game. Eyes closed, head shaking frantically side to side, and cheeks rosy, one might’ve thought Bucky was actually playing at a concert. You were sure Bucky had his part memorized, which was quite a lot for a guy who was still complaining about all the “confusing, new technology nowadays.”

Nat couldn’t be farther from the opposite of the Winter Soldier. As one might expect, she was hitting every note, but from the look on her face, you had a harder time going up the stairs without tripping than she was having playing the game.

And Tony, well, you didn’t really know what to expect with him, but it certainly wasn’t this. For a guy with all the charisma in the world, you thought he would’ve been more… coordinated. He dropped a drumstick at least twice already, and he could never seem to hit the pedal when he had to use the sticks at the same time.

Unfortunately for you, the song quickly came to a close and a new distraction arose—you.

“Y/N, no avoiding it any longer. C’mon, get up here. Which one do you want to be?” You glanced reluctantly at Wanda before answering. If you wanted to play to win, your best bet was singing, but none of the Avengers, including Wanda, had heard you before, and you were in no rush to change that. At the same time, your girlfriend was right; you definitely had a competitive side to you, and seeing the looks on the guys’ faces when you won would be a glorious sight. But maybe it wasn’t all about winning, after all, Wanda had promised you a kiss…

“Put her on the mic,” Natasha smirked. She removed the strap of the toy guitar from her neck before handing it to Steve. Before you could protest, the microphone was shoved into your hands and someone pushed you towards the front of the room.

“Good luck, Y/N,” you barely heard Wanda call from behind you, more worried about what you were going to do.

“Okay, so, Steve and I will be on guitar and bass, Thor on drums, and Y/N on mic. We ready?” Bucky scanned the room for approval. When everyone except for you nodded, he went to choose a song.

“‘Wanted Dead or Alive?’ Really, Buck?” Steve shook his head.

“It’s a good song,” he shrugged, moving to his spot next to Steve. “Should we show them how it’s done?”

“Ha, funny of you to think you’ll win,” Thor boomed, rubbing the drum sticks together.

“Y/N? You’re awfully quiet.” Sam smirked.

“Oh, shut up, Big Bird. Let’s just get this over with.” The man held up his hands in surrender as he backed away from you slowly.

As the first few measures of the song passed, you made a decision. Screw what the rest of the Avengers thought, you were going for it. You took a deep breath as the words rolled across the screen.

“It’s all the same, only the names will change.” The second you started singing, you heard everyone else go quiet around you. Steve, Bucky, and Thor all stopped playing for a second, and you could practically feel everyone’s mouth drop as you forced your eyes to stay on the screen in front of you.

“Every day, it seems we’re wastin’ away.” Just keep going, you told yourself. As much as you wanted to shrivel up in a corner somewhere far, far away, you had already started this. Might as well finish it.

“Another place where the faces are so cold, I’d drive all night just to get back home.” A whistle erupted from behind you—it had to be Tony—and amongst the hooting and hollering, you smiled, relieved, as the rest of the Avengers seemed to snap back into it.

The rest of the guys got back into the groove, and at one point you weren’t even sure you could hear yourself over Thor’s rather enthusiastic drum playing. You had a hard time not laughing at Bucky when you were watching him earlier, but it was pretty much impossible to not laugh now when you were seeing him with Steve. They were definitely feeding off of each other’s energy, and, wow, was it a sight. You’d never seen them this… loose before. They’d definitely need a comb after this game.

Nevertheless, your teammates’ antics helped you fully relax into the song, and it was over before you knew it. On the last beat of the song, you heard a loud crack and whirled around just in time to dodge part of a drumstick coming straight for your face.

“Thor, what the heck are you doing, man?” The god laughed sheepishly.

“Are you trying to kill my girlfriend?” You glanced over at Wanda, who looked ready to grab Thor around the neck. One stern look from you made her hesitate, but the anger remained obvious in her eyes.

“I guess I got a little caught up in the game. In my defense, your human toys are way too fragile.” After one harsh glare from Wanda, the god swallowed and added, “I apologize, Y/N.”

“Dude, how the heck are we supposed to keep playing with a broken drumstick?” Clint inspected the broken piece, which was at least the size of his palm, passing it from hand to hand.

“Ah, forget it. We can just switch to a different game. Y/N’s would’ve won the rest of the rounds anyway,” Bruce shrugged as he pointed at the screen.

The rest of the Avengers followed his finger, and sure enough, you had finished with a perfect score.

“Okay, Y/N, I’ll give it to you. That was good. How come you never told any of us you could sing?” You laughed, shaking your head.

“Nobody asked me.” You shrugged before handing the microphone to Bruce, allowing the conversation to return to what to do about the broken drumstick and returning to your seat next to Wanda. “Babe, I defeated the grandpas,” you whispered before pushing your face into the crook of her neck. More relaxed now that you were safe next to her, she chuckled, grabbing your hand.

“You did. I thought you would’ve been more excited about it?”

“I’m very happy about it,” you murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” she smiled, squeezing your thigh. You whined, prompting your girlfriend to laugh softly and kiss the top of your forehead. “I wouldn’t mind hearing you sing more often. You’re a good singer, malyshka.”

“Thanks,” you muttered.

“Wow, Wanda, you didn’t even know your girlfriend could sing?” Clint teased. With the conversation back on you, you pushed yourself further into Wanda’s body. She reassured you by tracing small circles at the top of your knee.

“Obviously none of you knew about it either.”

“I did,” Natasha smirked, causing you to look up at her in shock. “I heard you singing in the shower the other day when I went to drop off the sweatshirt you left in my room.” You threw your head back in laughter before chucking a pillow in her direction, which she easily caught.

“You suck. You put me on singing on purpose!”

“You wanted to win, didn’t you?” your best friend shrugged, clearly not feeling bad for what she had done.

“Okay, okay, can we get back to game night now?” Sam whined. “Sure, Y/N can sing. But can she dance?” Everyone groaned playfully as Sam pulled out a copy of Just Dance. “Natasha, you’re not allowed to play,” he quickly added. The redhead crossed her arms, a smile on her face.

“Fine with me. Go get ‘em, Y/N.” You grinned. Giving Wanda a peck on the cheek, you stood from the couch yet again and rolled up your sleeves. This was going to be a long night.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #avengers x reader #marvel #mcu #I wrote something #again #alwaysmarveling

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