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violentdelights-violentendss · 28 days

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Ryunosuke Akutagawa having to kiss you to keep his cover.

Pairing: Fem!Reader/Ryunosuke Akutagawa

Synopsis: The two of you need to pretend to be married for a mission, and when your cover was almost blown, Akutagawa could do nothing but press you to a wall and kiss you.

(Initially, this had been supposed to be for multiple characters but I got carried away…lmao… let me know if I should do other BSD men with this trope, and if yes, which ones)

Warning: NSFW

You and Akutagawa sat in silence in the sleek limousine, the thump of the wheels on the road the only noise. You picked at your expensive dress, making sure the, excessively long, slit in your skirt did not reveal anything you did not want to reveal. As you adjusted the black fabric, your eyes could not help but catch the fake wedding ring that sat on your finger. Well, fake as in you weren’t married, not fake diamonds. The glittering diamonds that resembled shards of heaven were very, very real.

Akutagawa was sitting next to you, trying to press himself against the side door to touch your body as little as possible. His elegant suit had made you stare when you saw him before stepping into the car: he almost never wore anything like that. He was wearing a similar wedding ring around his finger.

You two had been chosen last minute to pretend to be a married couple to sneak into the house of a rival boss to gather some information. The party he was hosting for his daughter’s engagement was the perfect excuse. Usually, other people would be chosen, and with more preparation, but a mishap had occurred suddenly and you had been thrown headfirst in the mission. You were reading the paper with your backstory while getting ready, memorizing that you two had met during an economics course at the Yokohama university and all the surrounding unnecessary details, just in case anyone asked.

The car rolled to a stop, and Akutagawa slid you a look, before stiffly taking your hand in his and placing it on his arm. “Let’s go, (Y/N).” He murmured, opening the door. You two stepped out, immediately feeling the gaze of the rest of the party-goers around you.

Nervously, you leaned against Akutagawa as you walked up the stairs. The eyes of the other couples walking alongside you did not help your already unstable feet in the heels. You almost tripped on the red fabric that had been delicately placed on the marble steps, but Akutagawa stabilized you by placing a warm hand on your waist.

You stepped inside the ballroom, and quietly gasped in shock: the room was breathtaking, carved windows with encrusted gold decorations, painted ceilings and mosaics on the ground. “It’s gorgeous,” you whispered, and Akutagawa nodded silently by your side.

You threw him a glance, elbowing him in the gut discreetly. He frowned at you. “You need to look more in love with me, Akutagawa and not stand there as if you were forced to be here.” You whispered, speaking through gritted teeth while a smile adorned your lips. The man next to you nodded, trying to subtly lean into you, pretending to search for your body warmth.

Truth be told, he was actually wanted to do so, holding himself back because he feared he would accidentally reveal something to himself he had tried to keep hidden: his heart thumped a little louder when you were around.

“Let’s get some champagne,” He murmured, starting to lead you to table. Right before you managed to secure to glasses for the both of you, a couple bumped into you, pushing you in Akutagawa’s unsuspecting arms. He froze, before he remembered he was supposed to be married to you. The couple had also clearly wanted to grab some champagne.

“Oh dear! I apologize!” The man said.

“Oh, no worries!” You reassured, grabbing two flutes and handing one to Akutagawa, almost propelling yourself out of his arms.

The man’s wife had been looking at your hand as it delicately held the expensive flutes, immediately grabbing it to observe the ring. “Oh, darling! This is a gorgeous ring!” She said, inspecting it.

“Oh, thank you.” You blushed, looking at Akutagawa with a shade of red on your cheeks.

“I chose one that matched her eyes,” Akutagawa spoke, so quietly that you almost didn’t hear him. Your heart fluttered, and the couple could not help but swoon at the two of you.

You four talked for a few more minutes; well, you talked to the couple and Akutagawa simply stood next to you, nodding or echoing your words.

You then went your separate ways, and you and Akutagawa knew you needed to find the information. The two of you quickly slid to a more secluded area, knowing from the blue prints of the building that the owner’s office was directly above you, and you just needed to climb the stairs unseen.

“Let’s do this,” Akutagawa said, heading towards the stairs after you two had waited for a few minutes, making sure no distant echoes of steps reached you. You followed, the tapestry on the steps muffling the sound of your heels.

As the two of you were exactly halfway up the stairs, you heard movement coming from the office, and some shadows peeked from underneath the illuminated door, projecting eerie shadows on the wall behind you.

Akutagawa, who had been in front of you, noticed first. “Back! Back!” He hissed, and you spun around, starting to run down the stairs. But the staircase was so long that the door opened before you guys could reach all the way down. You only heard the creek of the wood, neither you or the people could see one another, since the staircase curved to the left. But you and Akutagawa had nowhere to hide.

You two shared a terrified gaze, knowing what to do: pushed by Mori, the two of you had agreed on various ways to escape uncomfortable situations such as these, and one of them, as cliché as it sounded, was to pretend to make out. Akutagawa had argued initially, and had only agreed when Mori had uttered his name quietly, the weight of his control hidden behind the single word.

You pressed yourself against the wall, letting the spaghetti straps of your dress slide down your shoulders. Akutagawa loosened his bow tie, and unbuttoned a few of the first buttons of his shirt, clearly hating every minute. You gulped as his pale skin shone in the moonlight. He then approached you, yanking your leg out from the slit, gripping your thigh with his fingers. You flinched, suppressing the real moan that threatened to escape your mouth.

“Sorry,” he whispered in your ear, before he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss initially had been just a peck, but both of you knew you needed to be more convincing if you wanted it to be true.

Akutagawa pulled back, before diving in with all his passion, secretly letting go of all the feelings he had been hiding for quite some time. The kiss turned heated, and soon, the hand that hadn’t been resting on your thigh, moved to your jaw, holding you in place as he dared to slide his tongue into yours. Your lipstick was smudged everywhere, and the whimpers that tumbled from your lips soon became real.

The two barely noticed the steps that had been approaching you, only breaking away from your kiss when someone cleared their throat next to you. You two broke apart, a string of saliva connecting your lips. It almost looked like crystal in the moonlight.

Your chest was heaving, pressing against Akutagawa’s with every shaky breath. Your fake husband’s eyes were wide, and your lipstick had smeared all over his face. Your unfocused gaze slowly zoned on the men that had “caught you”, and you almost felt your heart rumble out of your chest when you tumble out of your chest: it was the owner of the building, the one you had to steal information from, and a few of his most trusted men.

“Ah, young love.” He called, bringing his cigar to your lips. “Unfortunately, I regret to inform you that this area is restricted to authorized personal only.”

You tried speaking, but your words kept freezing in your throat. Akutagawa took the lead. “I am deeply sorry…I lost control. We’re…newlyweds,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically loud.

You leaned against the wall, barely registering what happened, only smelling and remembering Akutagawa pressed against you. You hazily watched as Akutagawa talked to the men, seemingly excusing himself. You closed your eyes, dazed, opening them to find only Akutagawa there, standing in front of you.

“Where..where did they go?” You asked, your voice shaky.

“I told them we would leave right away, simply needing to readjust our clothes.” He grumbled. “This is our chance.”

You nodded, trying to push yourself off the wall, but Akutagawa’s hand on your wrist stopped you. “Wait here. I’m going to make this quick. I’ll come back. And we’re talking.” He said, his dark eyes staring into your soul.

You tried protesting but your whispers were tears in a rainfall, and Akutagawa scampered up the stairs, and you slowly flopped down to the ground. Your eyes widened when you closed your legs: no, it couldn’t be…

You quickly eyed your surroundings, seeing only shadows hiding in the forgotten corners. You rapidly shoved your fingers underneath your skirt and between your legs, slipping one finger inside you. You slapped a hand on your mouth, half in shock, and half to cover the moan that was about to pour out of your swollen lips. Akutagawa had kissed you for just a few minutes, and had managed to make you soaking wet.

You leaned your head against the wall, angrily wondering why you had had to get a crush on the most cold-hearted person in the port mafia.

•

Akutagawa appeared next to you suddenly, his face half in the shadows, rendering his eyes even more shrouded in mystery. Without talking, he grabbed your hand, starting to walk hastily towards the exit. You knew he had probably snapped pictures of whatever you guys needed, and had slipped out of there as quickly as his feet could carry him, leaving behind only his cologne as a testament of his presence.

The two of you walked down the steps you had used to get in, and once again, your stiletto got caught in red fabric. Akutagawa seemed to know that it would happen, and already had his hand firmly pressed on your hip.

The two of you glided down the Yokohama alleyways, resembling living fragments of memories that littered all Yokohama. The minute you stepped into Port Mafia territory, the darkness around you felt much safer, more welcoming, and the two of you slowed down your steps, slightly more relaxed.

“Did you get everything—”

Before you could finish, Akutagawa had pressed you against the wall in a forgotten alley, his eyes so dark they resembled a moonless night. He was unusually close, his breath caressing your lips with fragility.

“What did that kiss mean to you?” Akutagawa croaked.

“What?” Your words were unsure, unclear, begging anything or anyone to help you understand what was happening.

“What. Did. That. Kiss. Mean. To. You. (Y/N).” He asked again, his voice sharper, and his eyes slightly darker.

And suddenly, you understood everything, as if the moon had sent a star to whisper a hint in your ear. You could feel Akutagawa’s heart beating, his chest pressed so close to yours. His eyes weren’t dark becasue of anger, but because of fear. He was scared. Scared that you did not feel his same way.

You reached up a hand to graze his cheek, and Akutagawa flinched, already imagining that you were about to let him down kindly. You were far too perfect for him, after all. But his downward spiral was interrupted by your soft voice, a melody he would recognize even in hell itself.

“Everything, Akutagawa. It meant everything.”

You waited, staring deep into his eyes, feeling the pressure of the darkness surround you. You inhaled sharply when you saw Akutagawa’s eyes lighten, before he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. He timidly pressed against your body, delicately, almost afraid to hurt you. He pulled back to see your reaction, and when he saw you lick your lips, hoping to taste any drops he had left behind, his whole restraint crumbled to the ground.

Akutagawa passionately pressed himself against you, his lips crashing down on yours with fervor. Your two bodies were so close you could feel everything. Akutagawa almost went crazy when he felt your breasts against his chest. Your arms clasped his shoulders, trying to hold him even closer. Your lungs were burning, but you didn’t care, threading your hands in his locks, whimpering in pleasure when he rolled his hips against you.

“(Y/N)…if, if we continue I won’t be able to stop,” he whispered in your ear, his hands gliding down to your waist.

You shook your head as quickly as you could, your perfect hairstyle slowly giving in to the emotions of the night. “I don’t want you to stop.”

That’s all that Akutagawa needed to hear. Without wasting a minute, he yanked down your spaghetti straps, uncovering your breasts to his eyes. His hands reached to grope them, while his lips attacked your neck, sucking a hickey on it, claiming you as his. Your spread legs had made the slit in your dress expose your soaking core, and Akutagawa used that to his advantage, pressing his hips against you.

Both of you reeled in pleasure when his hard dick pressed against your sopping heat. You gripped his shoulder, while he held your hips, the two of you stopped kissing for a second, starting to dry hump each other. Akutagawa lifted your thigh, wrapping it around his waist, making his clothed tip rub against your already swollen clit.

You whimpered his own name in his ears, and he had to still your hips to prevent from cumming on the spot.

“(Y/N), I need to fuck you, right now.” Akutagawa slurred, his words mixing together from his lust.

“Please! Please do it!” You begged, trying to spread your legs even further, but the fabric of your dress stopped you. Akutagawa, noticing your struggle, used Rashomon to rip your dress further from the slit. You gasped, impossibly feeling even more aroused. “Akutagawa! That dress was expensive!”

“I’ll buy you ten more.” He grunted, caressing your thighs. He moaned your name when he realized you had soaked through your panties. He yanked your frilly underwear from you, and stuffing them in his pocket. He blew on his fingers to warm them, before shoving one, and then the other inside you, grunting at your tightness.

“Oh my god, you’re so wet.” Akutagawa almost whimpered, but he managed to control his tone. You threw your head back, when he touched your g-spot, falling forward against his shoulder. Akutagawa fingered you for a few minutes, making sure you were stretched out for him, giving one simple lick to your nipple as a shy tease. He had not meant to make you orgasm, but when you gripped his shoulder tightly, almost screaming his name, he realized what had happened. Your fucked out gaze went directly to his dick, making him leak precum.

After you had come down, Akutagawa did not weight to unbuckle his belt, appreciating your helping hands. You glanced down at his cock when he freed it, feeling yourself gush in anticipation at how gorgeous it looked, red tip and all. Akutagawa gripped his base, aligning himself with your entrance. He looked up at you, making sure everything was fine. His white hair almost glittered in the moonlight, and you could not help but feel your heart beat excitedly as you nodded affirmatively, telling him everything was fine.

With your reassuring gaze warming his chest, Akutagawa pressed his tip inside you. Both of you grunted, and Akutagawa had to stop himself before he blew his load straight away.

You pressed your lips to his, reassuring you everything was okay. Both of you kissed for a few minutes, Akutagawa scratching your scalp with his fingers, moaning into your mouth as he slowly slipped inside.

Akutagawa pulled away from your addicting kisses when he finally bottomed out, pressing his hands against the wall, leaning heavily against you. “(Y/N),” he whispered in your ear, pressing a kiss to your earlobe. He seemed to be calling out for you, needing you to reassure him that you were there, you were real. He was so afraid that this was a cruel joke of life, a dream he would inevitably wake from.

You clasped his back, caressing his quivering skin. “I’m here.” You croaked into his mouth, nibbling his lower lip.

Akutagawa started moving his hips, hiding his face in your neck. His hands blindly clasped your legs around his waist, using Rashomon to carry your weight. His tip managed to reach much deeper into you, and your moans loudly shattered the silence of the alley. If there was anyone scuttling in the alleys next to yours, they definitely knew what was happening.

Akutagawa started repeating your name incoherently, jackhammering his hips into yours. He hit your g-spot at every trust. His eyes were mesmerized by your bouncing tits, flicking the hardened nipple with his thumbs.

“Akutagawa!” You mewled.

Akutagawa went faster, gripping your hips so tightly he left bruises. He wrapped his arms around you, tightly pressing your chests together, the feeling of his dress shirt rubbing against your nipples being exactly what you needed to topple over the edge. You pressed a bruising kiss to his lips, kissing him so passionately you almost forgot your name.

Akutagawa caressed your mouth with his tongue, closing his eyes in blinding pleasure when you gushed around his cock as you climaxed, a cascade of your juices running down your thighs. His thrusts started to turn sloppy, and with one final thrust, sheathing himself as far he could, Akutagawa moaned your name as if it were a prayer, painting your walls white with ropes of cum.

The two of you stayed still for a few seconds, panting against one another, in a silent embrace that was worth a thousand words. Akutagawa’s hands caressed your arms, while you peppered as many kisses as there were stars in the universe on his flushed neck. Slowly, he slipped out of you, stuffing his cock back inside his pants. You winced, feeling his cum start to drip out. Not caring about his expensive shirt, Akutagawa used his sleeve to clean you up, quiet praises tumbling from his mouth.

His hands also slid your spaghetti straps back in place, eyeing the now torn slit that revealed everything he wanted to keep hidden about you. Akutagawa shrugged off his coat, tying it around your waist. Rashomon slowly let go of you, making sure your legs were safely on the ground before slithering back into oblivion.

“Akutagawa!” You called, feeling your weak legs start to stumble and your body starting to fall. Your partner came to the rescue, wrapping his arms around your waist. He was suddenly shy, and awkward, afraid that maybe he had revealed his heart to you too soon.

“Akutagawa, you’re truly the only person I would have wanted to experience this with.” Your words flew to his heart, erasing any doubt that could have sprouted, and you were almost certain you saw Akutagawa smile.

He couldn’t offer the same profound words, years of pain and betrayal blocking them before they even reached his lips, but Akutagawa offered you the closest thing he could to a love confession: “My house is nearby…would you like to come over?” His voice got quiet towards the end, and he hid his face in your hair.

“I’d love to,” You smiled back at him, and Akutagawa knew, that from that moment on, he would no longer be alone. When he intertwined your two hands together, he could not help but gaze at your fake wedding rings, hoping that, one day, they might become real.

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #akutagawa x reader #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa smut #bsd smut #port mafia #akutagawa ryonosuke #bsd x y/n #bsd x you

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adonis-koo · 5 months

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of bones and gods

Summary: in an act of keeping war from breaking, the Prince of Penumbra, Jeon Jungkook must journey to Eunoia to wed their Princess, in one final act of mourning his freedom the night before his wedding, he runs into the Queen of Eunoia

Genre: arranged marriage, enemies to lovers

Word count: 3k

Note: this is a lil drabble based it’s main story Wicked you can read this as a stand-alone though!

Jungkook had been dreading this day for as long as the news had permitted in the air, the day he would have to leave the comforts of his homeland and accept that he was soon to be shackled and forced into marriage with a woman he would never love.

The grip on his reigns were deathly tight, his knuckles white and an icy rage in his eyes that had never quite left since two years ago when his father announced that he would be wed to the princess of Eunoia, and a rite of peace would be settled to cease the five year war.

He had many thoughts about the war, he was relieved, happy even to hear that it would finally end, but at the expense of his own freedom and happiness left him mixed inside.

And then the rage, the hopelessness, the depression that the woman he loved would have to be subjected to his new wife.

It wasn’t fair to have this much resentment for someone he had never met, but he didn’t care, this woman was nothing short but the ire of all his problems.

The hoofs of his horse plotted on the ground in the sound of a drum, five hundred echoing not too far behind as precautionary measures of Eunoia would try anything.

Not that they would, Jungkook personally thought it was a bit much, they were pacifists by nature, not even participating in the five year war despite the other nations putting pressure on them. It was the reason his father had chosen them out of everyone.

“I will be glad when this headache is put too rest,” his father finally commented, having rode beside him the last few hours in silence, “We won’t be staying after the ceremony, there’s much too do in the kingdom once we get home.”

Jungkook said nothing, his anger still very much awake and burning.

His father glanced at him, “Come now, don’t be so sour, she’s pretty. And not nearly the headache Seohyun was. You couldn’t ask for a better wife.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Jungkook hissed out, finally releasing his reigns to peel off his outer jacket.

Despite being early spring, he had taken note for the weather changes during their travels, in Penumbra, frost would still be on the ground. But here so close to Eunoia, it was warm out, buds were already on the tree’s and he could even spot wild flowers in groves of the valley.

And though he despised his soon to be wife and her people and this I sufferable wedding, Jungkook could not deny the peace he felt being on Eunoia’s grounds, he had never been here before, but he could see why it was called the Capitol of the Sun.

“Perhaps some gratitude that it could be worse is suitable.” His father commented, “I know you’ve despised this match from the beginning, and I don’t expect you to make a genuine attempt to make things work,” his fathers gaze darkened, “But I do expect you to uphold our family name, and above all else.”

“Protect the family,” Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“And soon, she will be one of us, whether you like it or not.” His father trotted ahead, sending a knight towards the soldiers behind to set up camp on the outskirts of the city.

Jungkook glared at his back but the loud noise of a horn took his gaze elsewhere, his eyes widening a little at the tall oak tree’s that lead into a forest. They would be arriving at the entrance of the capitol soon.

Jungkook slowly glanced around as he noticed people hidden in the groves and sloped hills slowly emerge.

Field workers, he thought, nothing short of curious as they all glanced at the passing of him.

Jungkook briefly wondered if he was in a dream though, women of all kinds, beautiful, some short others tall, thin or thick, freckles and darker warm skin, hair of bronze or birch, all in gowns short and skin on display.

Harlots. They’d probably be called in any other nation, he had heard of Eunoia’s primal customs, their way of life being looked down upon or considered indecent.

But here in Eunoia, these women were simply workers.

Baskets in hand filled with fruits, wheat or other foraged goods.

“Seems you’ve the pick of the lot for one last night of freedom.” Jeong Dae clearly noticed as well as he gave Jungkook a pat on the shoulder.

Jungkook only gave him a sullied look.

The only woman he wanted was the one he had to leave back in Penumbra.

The forest eventually opened into the field where the capitol was displayed, the sun shining it’s heavens upon its white cobble stone streets, vines growing off every house and flowers emerging from the place it could.

Jungkook couldn’t help but gawk around, his eyes intrigued with every inch they closed in on the castle, he knew it was a new land, but he had never been away from home, not truly, not unless it was to destroy another’s.

He never had the luxury of actually taking in another lands beauty before. And it was nothing like Penumbra, color flourished in every spot his vision could find, ivory that could never survive Penumbra’s cold climbed off every surface.

Stalls of trade had been set up and fountains poured where those gathered for water.

His brows furrowed as he watched a group of young girls play with long pieces of chiffon, some sort of dancing game as they waved the fabric in the air while singing.

Then his gaze set to two young boys, doing a dance of their own, this kind having to do with balancing on their hands, but they continue to fall over.

And eventually Jungkook’s eyes settled on the olden steps of the castle that lead to the courtyard, and upon entering it was just as angelic as the rest of its lands.

Vines bushes out hanging off parts of the upper rails, a large pond circled up ahead and the worn stone decorated the floors of the courtyard only adding to its beauty.

The man that stood behind it, his advisor behind him was the one Jungkook took note of.

Elisar stood calm, a face nothing short of welcoming as Jungkook and his father dismounted their horses.

“We welcome you to Eunoia, we’ve long since await this day and your arrival, there’s very few things left that need tending too.”

Dae Seong shook his hand firmly and Jungkook did as well next.

“We’ve all awaited this day, I’m ready for it to be done and over with truth be told, all this fuss just for a ceremony.” Dae Seong puffed.

Jungkook curiously watched for Elisar reaction, he knew his father rarely made friends.

Elisar only gave a small smile, “There is only but one day left to wait, thank the gods. Follow me please gentleman, I’ve made most arrangements in terms of the agreement for your access to the Noxtria mines, this should all be suitable but it would be best for you to read through it once more before signing.”

Jungkook briefly glanced around once more, light flowed in from every entrance and it felt like gold was spilling in bringing a certain warmth Jungkook didn’t think possible.

The guards ahead opened double doors as Elisar lead them in, “We of course, have plenty of time to discuss these matters later, aside, I’m honored for you to meet my wife Esme and my lovely daughter Y/n.”

Jungkook stood a little straighter, having known this moment would come whether he wanted it to or not.

‘She’s pretty’ his fathers words echoed in his head.

And here she was.

Y/n.

She was shorter then he anticipated her being, and it wasn’t his intention for his eyes to drop to her chest but her gown, truth be told was a risqué move even by Penumbra standards.

But seeing as her mother’s dress had a plunge in hers almost down to her mid stomach, this was very customary for Eunoian’s.

Still, her sleeves were flowing and long, leaves patterned on the sleeves, her shoulders exposed from the material and her neckline plunged dangerously low, a noticeable slit in the side of her dress, giving a small display of thigh if she shuffled.

She did that quite a bit.

His father wasn’t wrong, he begrudgingly thought.

She was very pretty.

Not just pretty, pretty was not a good description of it, it couldn’t describe the soul sucking beauty that radiated from her.

She had an ethereal kind of beauty, the kind that made it look as if her skin was glowing with light, flowers that could bud at her fingertips and eyes that burned with the fire of the sun, an otherworldly, primordial kind of beauty, the kind that men and gods would wage war over.

Jungkook couldn’t describe it.

In fact, lingering on trying to describe it made his lip almost twitch in annoyance.

Esme was graceful, a beautiful radiant smile on her lips as she spoke, “We welcome you to our home Eunoia! I’m sure the travel was long and taxing on you both, I do hope you enjoy our home, we look forward to the severed bonds of the past being repaired.”

It was silent only for a moment, but it was painfully loud as all eyes dropped to Y/n.

Too much fabric was in the way for Jungkook to really get a good look, but he thought for a brief moment he caught a glimpse of Esme twisting her daughters arm.

Who despite the raw energy her persona held, evidently was not nearly as well spoken nor graceful as her mother.

“It’s an honor to host for the royal family of Penumbra, I…” Her voice was a bit ragged, every word sounded like something was stuck in her throat, as if it was a genuine struggle to speak.

“look forward to our life together.” Y/n gritted her teeth, and Jungkook surely never heard a bigger lie in his life.

Her lips twitched as if resisting the urge to scowl as her eyes finally met his, as if left with no other choice but to acknowledge his existence.

Jungkook had seen this look before, it was a look he had received by many in his travels of diplomatic matters.

It made him want to scoff, what right did this woman have to judge him? Beauty or not it didn’t hide the fiery rage that roared behind her eyes.

Justice, or a lack thereof screaming in her face and haughtiness of presumption was evident in the way she held herself, as if she already knew him without so much as hearing a word from him.

It grated on Jungkook’s nerves, he held out his hand, feeling his fathers expectated gaze on him.

‘She will be one of us soon, whether you like it or not’

Her hand was much smaller, but surprisingly he was met with calluses of her own and briefly he wondered what she did to gain them.

Her nails had evidently been cleaned but he could still spot smudges of dirt beneath them that had evaded careful eyes.

He wasn’t sure how though, seeing as she was watching him like a hawk, her gaze was unwavering, refusing to back down or shy away from him as his own locked onto her, pressing a kiss against her knuckle, “Jeon Jungkook, the pleasure is ours.”

It felt like an electric current coursing through his body before the connect was snapped, her hand yanking away from him as if it had been burned.

Y/n’s smile was sharp, nothing less than unwelcoming, “The feeling is mutual.” It was said almost as a sneer.

The Bitch of Eunoia, that’s what they called her, and Jungkook could very clearly see why.

His father said she’d be less of a headache than his old fiancé, but somehow…His eyes followed her figure as she gave a courtesy and was escorted by a knight out of the room along with her mother, his eyes following her figure as the doors closed behind them.

Somehow, he truly doubted that was going to be the case.

This woman would surely give him a headache of a lifetime.

Jungkook sighed as he tipped the bottle of wine to his lips, groaning at how sickeningly sweet the Eunoian wine was.

It felt like a taste of heaven dripping on his lips, though he was did miss the sharper more dry taste of Penumbrian wine, tomorrow he would have to face his destiny and marry the bitch of Eunoia.

But tonight he would drink and mourn.

Glancing at his ceiling, it was high, beautiful sculpted of white speckled noxtria, it made him snort, how could Eunoia use the strongest rock and metal uncovered as decor?

It did make him curious about the castle though, sighing he stood up, a bit wobbly albeit but it was late into the night and he doubt anyone would give him grief.

Keeping the bottle in hand he decided to explore the castle, this was likely to be the only time he’d ever be in Eunoia, he might as well make it count.

Just as he assumed, with it being late at night and nobody gave him grief, the few servants still up gave deep bows and curtseys but made wide room for him.

He didn’t understand the looks of concern they gave but paid them no mind as he took another large drink from the bottle.

Rooms were lit with candles and glowed with colors and flora, beautifully sculpted and windows from floor to ceiling.

Some rooms even having windows on the ceiling, opening into the sky, he had never seen something like this before.

Through journeying around the castle he ended up on a lower level, the room was shaped in a dome and flora once again crawling from every surface and another room with a window on the ceiling, opening up into the moonlight where flowers slowly unfurled, at the center of the room was a large circle that opened into the ground and he recognized it was a white oak stump, the surface sanded as if crafted into a seat.

The curves of it however made it look odd, a top of it sat a crown- or something kin to it, a strong band- he realized was noxtria and a pair of buck antlers, large, thirteen points on each side.

“Beautiful isn’t it?”

Jungkook jumped, clutching his bottle tighter as he whirled around, “Your Majesty…”

Esme only raised her brows a little, clearly amused at having caught the prince off guard, a smile on her face as he attempted to bow, “No need for that, wouldn’t want you to fall and be bruised for your wedding.”

Jungkook begrudgingly straightened, he wasn’t that drunk, “Why is her Majesty up so late?”

“Who isn’t up this late tonight?” Esme countered, slowly walking towards him, before brushing past him as she walked further, “Isn’t it beautiful though?” She asked but didn’t wait for an answer, “It was the crown my great grandmother Galadria wore for her coronation.”

She gestured upwards, Jungkook’s eyes lifted as he realized the large portraits that hung on the wall, the room was a dome shape and four hung halfway across the room.

His eyes wandered to each one, the most recent obviously Esme and Elisar, the portrait was regal, Esme clearly younger and wearing the crown, sitting upon the inner curve of the stump, and Elisar sitting on the actual seat. And then his eyes lifted to clearly her mother, and her mother before her.

All the way until the first portrait, Galadria, sitting alone, but her dress alone took up every space.

“Galadria hadn’t wed at the time until after she was queen. Still, there is something cathartic about her portrait,” Esme hummed in wonder, “I do hope you and Y/n will make a return within the year back to Eunoia to allow her to get her portrait done as well.”

Jungkook only leaned against the marble column, taking another gulp from his bottle as he said nothing in return, he wouldn’t make false promises, he had no intention of returning to this place so long as duty did not command it.

“My daughter…Y/n…I will warn you wicked Prince,” Esme slowly turned around, her dark eyes piercing him as she spoke, “She is not for the faint of heart. Her heart is tender and she has created walls of fire to protect it,”

She paused, taking a long look at him as if accessing him, “She will burn anyone who dares try to hurt her. So protect her.”

“Pardon?” Jungkook couldn’t help but chuckle at her words, shaking his head as he took another drink.

Esme glanced at his bottle before back at him, “It is any mothers wish for her daughter to be safe, do not take this as a command or I a queen, but as a mother.”

“With all due respect, I am not for the faint of heart.” Jungkook lazily leaned against the column once more.

Esme puffed a breath, “I am not worried whether my daughter can handle you, I am certain she will, it is you I worry for,” she folded her hands together, “Y/n is…she is a million souls of the lineage before her, she holds the wrath of a god in her bones,” Esme’s eyes grew cold, “And what are you? A prince who befell a misfortunate time to be alive?”

Jungkook glowered up from his bottle, “I am far more than what you and others say I am.”

Esme curved a brow, “Then I can only hope what you say is true. For Y/n will need that, whether she realizes it or not, she will need someone who will not be afraid of her, who will not let the flame of her soul consume them. Someone who will accept her as she is, I will not presume who you are, but I will put trust that you are not just merely a prince.”

Jungkook said nothing, eyes staying on her as he lifted the bottle to his lips.

“Do come and visit after you wed, I think you’ll fit nicely along the walls of our home,” Esme smiled, light lifting back to her face as she walked past him, snatching the bottle out of his hand, “Now go drink some water, I will not let either of you ruin your own wedding over foolishness.”

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #bts x reader #Jungkook smut #jungkook x reader smut #Jungkook imagine

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Sapsorrow Chapter 8

Masterlist Here, Sapsorrow Masterlist Here

Word Count: 10,700+

"Whom so ever fits the ring becomes wed to the warlord who owns it" Themes: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, forced proximity, lord and subordinate, one bed trope, apprehension, mutual pining, obligation, slow burn, eventual love, protective, "where is my wife" trope.

Starlight

(Image Source: https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/462322717990096069/)

Tag List: @maybe-a-bi-witch @fuzzyfestcat @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @be-good-please @little-bunnybabe @sukilovesyou @acehyacinth @andriannag @one17 @canthebest1 @khaleesihavilliard @hungrhay @sentieence @lebanese-afg-ya @captaincupio @szired @sexc-snail @alphaash99 @mfreedomstuff @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mrs-wolfwood @jaguarthecat @marsbars09 @vespidphoenix @cinnbar-bun

Notes: Thank you to @i-am-vita for her banner! Oh, boy. This is a big chapter. Next chapter will be MDNI, 18+. Thank you for your patience with me working at this. Two more chapters to go!

Song Suggestions: Young and Beautiful - Je suis Parte & Por Una Cabeza - Carlos Gardel

The ship swayed over the cloudy swell of darkened waves, shepherding the vessel away from the Kuraigana port and to a location your captain deemed appropriate for a newlywed bride to be hidden away from her husband.

Captain Buggy D Clown was not one to shy away from anything, especially not when something as interesting as causing drama and theatrics at the expense of Lord Dracule Mihawk was present. He was eager to present this challenge, whether you or Mihawk were also eager was a completely different tale entirely.

Within the Captain’s quarters aboard the Big-Top, you struggled with the back of your dress: uncinching the rigging your ward managed to tie for you to keep your body contained within its material. A huffed and agitated smile awoke on your face, picturing this struggle in comparison to the one to come after your starlight ensemble. If the moon was as difficult to rid from your body, you could not imagine how taxing the sun would be over your skin and concealing you from your husband.

Husband. You have a husband now. A husband that would be more than agitated to know you were now out to open seas and venturing to unknown horizons, away from the celebration he carefully curated for you.

“-Everything alright in here, Starlight?” the nasally crack of Buggy’s voice cut through the wooden door, “‘Ya need help?” You chuckled darkly, attempting to pry the material from you to no avail.

“Actually, Captain,” your voice held a frantic wave within its tone, “I think I do. The back is snagged, and I can’t get the damn thing off of me.” The door slowly creaked open, after a gentle rap alerted you he was to do so. You turned yourself away to conceal your exasperation from him, the stutter in your hands giving away your agitation as you continued to fumble over the ribbons at the rear of your dress.

“Do you trust me, Doll?” you heard his voice alarmingly close to your body, enough to cause a hitch in your throat. You glanced over your shoulder, witnessing Buggy’s teal eyes glancing up through his eyelashes and lips parting in concern.

“Considering you have robbed me of my wedding night with my beau,” your warning tone cut through the air as swift as a guillotine, “Spirited me away from the unity celebrations, and-,” you huffed, turning back around and glaring out of the bay window, “Confined me to spend this time alone and isolated from all those I hold most dear: I hardly deem you worthy of my trust presently, Captain.”

Buggy’s gasp was melodical and pitched up two octaves higher than his usual cadence. You could feel the waves of anxiety rising within his shoulders and expressed through several strangled breaths.

“I-I’m sorry, Lady Dracule. I didn’t think of it from your perspective and how my actions would-.” Whatever else Captain Buggy D Clown spoke after the first four words meant very little to you. Your mind looped them repetitively, the call and roll of the words felt both surreal and magical, you could hardly think about anything else.

“-Would’ve rather stayed on shore, it would be less flashy and make the chase all the less desperate. We could turn back if-,” Buggy’s words halted as he glanced back into your eyes, noticing the distant expression with a melancholy sorrow eclipsing your painted features. “...-Are you alright, my Lady Dracule?” he asked you.

“Lady Dracule,” you repeated, your brows forming a pillar at the center of your forehead and causing a small swell to mist your eyes, “I’m Lady Dracule, now.” Buggy took a moment to glance over your features, noticing this shift of emotion permeating through your stance.

Apprehensively, he reached his hand forward and gently caressed your shoulder. The gentle squeeze broke you out of your circulating mind, looking down and meeting the eyes of the cerulean-haired captain.

“Can I help you out of this dress and into the assortment I crafted for you, my lady?” Buggy asked softly, watching as you nodded in affirmation for his fingers to set to work.

“I’ll get this off in just a minute,” he whispered, his index fingers hooking through the loops in your back and slowly releasing the garment’s hold over your body, “And then we can think about your hair, and retouch your makeup. I’ll get Cabaji to bring us a bottle of the wine we swiped from the reception, too.”

You allowed a soft giggle to fall from your parted lips, the relief from being rid of the tightness of your dress while knowing you were in capable hands. As Buggy’s fingers aided you in being free from your garment, while respectfully aiding you into the new dress, your mind wandered to your husband and what he was doing in this moment. Did he notice your departure, or was he enjoying your joint celebrations in solitude?

“Where,” Mihawk’s yellow eyes glared accusingly around the guests through narrowed lenses, “Is,” he advanced, Yoru drawn with the pointed tip threatening the jugular of the Captain of the Red-Force, “My wife.”

Lord Dracule Mihawk, distracted momentarily by his guests and acquaintances upon exiting the ceremony space, sought out your hand to claim within his. He blindly reached beside him, outstretching his desperate hands to shepherd you to his side, his fingers brushing nothing but air in its wake.

He noticed your absence immediately.

“Easy now, mate,” Shanks raised his arms, noticing several members of his crew withdrew their concealed weaponry and aimed it at the enraged former warlord, “Easy, easy. She’s safe, I swear this to you.”

“Where is she?” Mihawk spat, his feet sliding into an assaulting stance, interweaving his body to draw closer to the red-head’s teasing face, “What have you done with her?”

“She’s with Buggy- Oi, relax,” Mihawk’s pupils narrowed, his eyes wide and wild at the knowledge departing from Shanks’ lips, “She’s safe, it’s all a part of appeasing the tradition.” Shanks attempted to soothe over the growing temper Mihawk was steadily elevating, gesturing for his crew to holster their weaponry.

“What tradition?” Mihawk barked, pressing the sharpened tip of Yoru deeper into Shanks’ neck, not quite puncturing the skin.

“We just wanted it to be perfect, Hawk-Eyes,” Shanks’ hazelnut eyes bore with no utterance of mistruth within his orbs, “And you’re a native to Kuraigana, born and raised here. This is us following your traditions to the absolute letter: crossed ‘t’s and dotted ‘i’s, mate.”

“Y-You’ve,” Mihawk stumbled over his words, darting his frantic eyes between Shanks’, “You’ve kidnapped my bride?”

“You want the map to her, Lord Mihawk?” the rational voice of Shanks’ first mate rumbled through the tense air, “I had the clown make one up, for all our sakes.” Mihawk snapped his eyes away from Shanks’ to bear into the soul of Benn Beckman. As their eyes met, Beckman fished out the tanned envelope and offered it out gruffly towards the broody and aggravated newlywed groom.

“And, are you all to just sit here and wait until I bring back my bride?” He barked at the Red-Hair crew, “Or are you coming to witness me suffer through this act of degrading humiliation?” Mihawk growled, eagerly searching through the crowd to see any contenders to refute his beckoning challenge.

“You should take your wards,” Shanks suggested, weaving his body away from the steely tip of Yoru’s point, “Your two witnesses to view your wooing.”

Zoro leant down into Perona’s ear, his brow knit with puzzlement and concern.

“I don’t follow, what is going on? Where’s our governess now?” Zoro quietly grunted into Perona’s ear, a giggle arising with her retort.

“Are you truly not following, or are you just saying that to be an imbecile?” Perona smirked, glancing up into Zoro’s serious eyes, “O-Oh, you’re serious? Okay!” Zoro patiently awaited his promised explanation, Perona thinking of the simplified version of this complex tradition to relay to him.

“In Kuraigana culture, the bride is either stolen or whisked away at a point in the evening - generally after the reception feast so the food doesn’t get cold. It looks like it’ll be a while yet before we get something to eat-,” Perona’s train of thought was broken with a growl from the green-haired apprentice.

“-Get on with it, Perona,” Zoro’s voice cut through the air gruffly, his eyes darting the surroundings for a clue of his governess’ whereabouts.

“Oh, alright. Sorry, Zoro,” Perona giggled, shaking her head and preparing her words to present once again, “The bride is then hunted by the groom and they share a moment where he must perform a task or a demonstration of artistic skill to woo and entertain his new bride. Considering she is no longer under the shroud of her own family name, but a whole new person in this case: Lady Dracule, he must win her heart under this new banner and usher her into her new life with him.”

“So, what? Is he gonna dance or something?” Zoro asked, puzzled and taken aback by the absurdity of the tradition, “Or is he gonna challenge her to a sword fight? What can he do that would woo her?”

“Zoro-...” Perona again giggled, shaking her head with a warm smile drawing her cheeks up beneath its radiance, “...-Mihawk sings.”

“Mihawk sings?” Zoro snapped his eyes over to Dracule Mihawk, watching as the lord of Kuraigana’s lips curled into a sinister snarl and brows furrowed deeper into rage.

“Two witnesses, no more,” Mihawk growled, placing the mighty blade upon his back and rolling his neck, “And we shall return within the hour.”

“Only if she’ll have you, mate,” Shanks’ grin playfully split his face, “You have to woo her. Humble yourself before her. This is your opportunity to actively pursue her,” the redhead stepped forward, clapping his right hand over Mihawk’s left shoulder.

“You never got the chance. Use this time to show her how much you want her, and then,” Shanks’ grin turned sly, glancing at Beckman who shook his head and fished out a cigarette from his breast pocket, “That’s when we can show you how radiant she is, all wrapped in sunlight.”

Mihawk’s rumbled growl cut through the air, turning on his boot heels and gesturing to Perona and Zoro with his index finger, “You two, with me. Let us depart and reclaim my bride.”

“Aye, sir,” Perona and Zoro spoke in unison, immediately springing into action and readying themselves for a short journey to find, woo and claim you with your title as Lady Dracule.

Mihawk’s fuming rage catapulted him into a near frenzy, working with haste to unroll the sails and weigh anchor, using the tide to carry his small ship and snarling at the crudely crafted map.

“This better be accurate for your sake, clown,” Dracule Mihawk spat, scrunching the map and thrusting it into his shirt pocket with his left hand. Upon withdrawing his hand from his pocket, he hovered it above his face, staring at how delicately the band of unity was glimmering under the light of dusk.

It felt balanced, as if this broad band was awaiting the day he would finally wield it atop his finger. As if his life was waiting for this moment to start, for this new role and purpose for his life to fulfill. He hardened his resolve, throwing off his outer coat and withdrawing his sleeves to his elbows. He will find you, and find you quickly.

And when he does, he will woo you.

If the moon-dress was the prelude to a masterpiece in composition, this dress would be a symphony to stand the test of time. Material as pastel as the celestial rocks littering the night sky sporadically danced across the midnight material depicting the sky at nightfall. In the dim light within the cave Buggy had chaperoned you into, the dress almost looked as if it was producing its own light.

“This is the most extravagant thing I have ever done with my life,” Buggy huffed a chuckle through his comment, “And that’s truly saying something, my lady. I’ve never done anything like this, and I’m almost jealous that I won’t be the one wearing it.”

“You’re more than welcome to borrow it for a performance, Captain,” you giggled, looking down at your arms that had been ornately decorated with chained droplets of beaded glass, “It is simply breathtaking.”

Glancing over at yourself in the reflective walls of the cave you had found yourself in, your hair was now softly falling in waterfalls against your back and your makeup retouched by the clown and his enthusiastic crew. You could hardly recognise the woman gazing back at you.

“As breathtaking as you are, my lady,” Buggy whispered while adjusting your hair over your shoulders, “And hopefully enough to get me back into your good graces?” He shifted his eyebrow upwards, glancing hopefully over your shoulder with widened eyes and fluttering eyelashes.

“You’re not out of the thick of it yet, dear captain,” you playfully taunted him, nose scrunched and smile growing, “It’s not only I you need to appease.”

As if on queue, a small commotion was occurring outside the cave. Elevated voices, a shuffling of feet and the clang of harsh metal meeting rock reverberated within the cave mouth: silence following such an abrasive sound.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Buggy repeated hurriedly, excitement and anxiety dancing in a dangerous fight for dominion over his cadence, “You take a seat on your throne and look all pretty,” he gestured with his hands flailing outwards, “I’ll finish lighting the candles,and then I’m gonna flee as fast my legs can carry me to give you two some privacy.”

You laughed at his excitement, turning and drawing up your heavy skirts to fan out atop the velvet-covered throne Buggy had placed down for you. Frantic clicks of flint and steel, a string of nasally curses, and a shifting of boot-heels tripping over themselves as Buggy set the final elements of his role in the ruse awaiting your spouse.

“Okay, I’m gonna-... woah,” Buggy’s words halted as he turned to view you on your throne, sitting with the elegance and radiancy that you had drilled into your many students over your career as a governess.

“‘Woah’, what, Captain Buggy?” you huffed out a small laugh, watching his eyes shifting over each element of your ensemble.

“Y-You know,” he stuttered, shifting his feet as if under the spell of hypnosis, “You’re not technically married if you haven’t consummated your union. You can always run away with me if you want to-.”

“Buggy,” you scolded him, your laughter now falling unwithheld from your lips, “For one: I am not cut out for a path of traveling piracy,” your smile continued to decorate your lips with its radiancy, “And two: I am in love with Dracule Mihawk, my husband.” That final confession shocked you, not admitting those words aloud to yourself or another before this very moment.

“Right, right, of course,” he laughed at himself, studying his handiwork as your skirts pooled over your feet and down the slight elevation over the rocks. The voices within the mouth of the cave continued to draw ever nearer, the agitation and anger almost tangibly felt the closer they came.

“This is where I take my leave, my lady,” he nervously chuckled, looking to the cave mouth with his lips split into a straight wincing line, “If I stay, the broody asshole will likely attempt to take my head and throw me into the sea.”

“In that case,” you smiled, bowing your head low to the clown, “This is where I thank you for the part you played in ensuring this day was a possibility.” Buggy gasped at your bow, taking a final moment to study you as you rose from your seated curtsey.

“You are so beautiful, my lady,” he whispered, bowing to you before turning on his heels and uttering a final sentence before picking up his sprint, “Congratulations on your successful ceremony. Save me a dance at your reception.”

Chuckling at his fleeing form, you were left in only a butterfly’s wing of solitude before three figures almost stampeded within the decorated hollow of the cave. Each of them halted, eyes wide and jaws slack as they took in their surroundings.

The ground was littered with candelabras, all lengthy wicks lit. Lighting a pathway towards the throne, tealights scattered the floor beside a long stretch of the softest white carpet. Upon the edge of the carpet, the material of your skirts pooled and the unnatural light of several stones attached to the hem illuminated the floor. Dark material shifts into soft lights at each subtle movement from your body, the stones on your arms providing a small ringing melody as you offer them a small, coy wave.

Perona’s smile rose on her cheeks, recovering the fastest of the three as she offered you a similar wave in return for your own. Zoro snapped his lips shut, smirking as he glanced between you and your beau who continued to be stupefied beneath this new radiant presentation.

“I have found you,” Mihawk whispered after taking a small moment to recover, “My bride, my beloved.” You smiled wider, taking a moment to study your husband as he began taking small and intentional steps towards you.

Perona hastily and quietly ushered Zoro over to the side, taking a seat on a large boulder and tapping the surface beside her in a gesture for Zoro to sit beside her. Without removing his eyes from the scene unfolding before him, he quickly sat on the stone and awaited Mihawk’s every chosen moment.

Electing to remain silent, you watched and hung onto every movement, utterance and breath produced as he continued on towards you. Before he fell within your proximity, he halted and inhaled a shaken breath as he humbly knelt with both knees on the floor, his hands laced and placed within his lap. Your breath hitched, eyes darted between his honey-coloured eyes which then immediately snapped shut.

He deeply inhaled a breath, his eyes remaining closed as he focussed on his movements. He lilted a rumbled hum, a tune unfamiliar to you produced from his nose and serenading you with its melody. Mihawk was singing, and he was singing for you.

“Never I’ve known love like this,

As vibrant as the seas.

I’ll sheathe my blade, and disarm my shield,

For a chance just to please.”

His eyes remained shut, lips almost cautiously relaying the lyrics as he produced them. After the small verse produced, his words waved more confidently through his lips and enunciated each spoken lyric.

Perona attempted to silence her elation by slapping her hand over her lips, her other hand finding Zoro’s knee and giving it a firm squeeze to express her excitement physically. Zoro was not faring much better, his own shock written on his face he could barely notice Perona’s hand on his knee as he gripped his thighs to stifle his surprise at Mihawk’s skillful melody.

“The way your lips summon me,

The way your eyes hold promise,

May your bed never be empty,

Should dawn be upon us.”

Mihawk’s eyes opened, his breath hitching as he witnessed the longing gaze you were offering to him. Your eyes swelled with emotions, lips parting and drawing up in a melancholy smile. Mihawk offered you a small, bashful smile as he continued to sing to you.

Your eyes never left Mihawk for a minute, watching as he knit his brows together and continued to utter promises through melody towards you.

“I will share my days with you,

For this to you I swear.

Nightfall I be by your side,

For it’s not yours alone to bear.”

He rose his knee from his kneeling into a lunge, bowing his head down and removing his hat from his head. A final promise uttered lyrically from within his skilled melody, you holding onto each word.

“The seas and sword were my first love,

The training alone be vast.

Although you were not my first to love,

May we both be each's last.”

Mihawk sucked in a baited breath, awaiting a small reprimand or disciplinary comment regarding his abilities. He was no singer nor composer, the lyrics produced alongside the melody were spur of the moment. His skills were of the sword, not of poetry and lyricism.

“Do my words and melody please you?” Mihawk whispered, his eyes holding firm to the floor as his dark curls bobbed to a lower bow, “Will you allow me the luxury of my heart, my body and my soul joining with yours, Lady Dracule?”

He elevated his head, his eyes softening and rapidly blinking to stifle the rising beat of his heart as he remained in his humility. A man such as he was not accustomed to humbling himself before anyone, doing precisely as he pleased and when he pleased to do it. With you, this was uncharted and untested waters. He was in love, and would spend the rest of his days romancing you should you ask it of him.

Truthfully, he was prepared to offer his adoration, praises and romance to you at all hours whether you asked it of him or not.

“You may have me, I am yours,” you answered him after several moments of pregnant pause, rising to your feet and offering him your right hand to take with his left, “Just as you are mine.” Mihawk released a breath he did not know he was withholding from his chest, the weight rolling off his shoulders and having him relax beneath your admission.

He took this moment to study your carefully painted lashes, noticing the subtle hints in tints and hues decorating your skin at the hands of the genius jester. The stars were reflected in your eyes, the pigments complimenting the change in darkened material pooling over your dress.

“C-Can I,” he fell over his words, closing his eyes and mentally scolding himself for his stumble, “Can I kiss you, my lady?” A small squeak from the corner of the room had you both break from your illusion that this corner of reality was not yours alone to share. You also had two witnesses.

Mihawk snapped his eyes over to the two words sitting happily on the boulder beside the decorated floor, scolding them with a single pointed look. At his momentary shift of focus, you used the opportunity to rise from your sitting position on the throne Buggy sourced for you and stooped down to collect Mihawk’s chin between your index finger and thumb.

You shifted his face back, witnessing the momentary shock as he gazed into your eyes. With a soft smile, you lowered your face and collected his lips with your own. Although he was kneeling, Mihawk was a tall individual. This position did not have your neck aching at its stoop, but was comfortable as you slowly pressed more of yourself against the former warlord.

Mihawk wrapped his arms around your waist, bunching the fabric within his hands and holding you firmly pressed against him. He parted his lips, his tongue darting out to dampen your bottom lip as he squeezed your hips within his wide fingers. You hummed against his lips, your fingers raking over his beard to entangle within his curled locks. He smiled into the kiss, rising from the floor and fully bracing himself against you with his forearms circling your waist.

The ruffles of the skirts below you illuminated several of the rocks littering the material, a gasp fleeing from Perona the longer she stared at the balled objects adoring the fabric.

“The rocks light up when they move!” she hushed her whisper to Zoro who waved his hand to silence her as he witnessed the loving embrace between his lord and lady. Although Zoro would never admit it aloud, he was enjoying every minute of witnessing such joy between two people he held most dear.

Breaking from the kiss, your eyes half lidded as they gazed up at your husband. His expression mirrored your own, gazing lovingly down at you with a soft smile gently creasing the corners of his eyes.

“Let’s go home,” Mihawk whispered, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead and hovering his lips over your skin as he cradled your head against his chest, “I hope Shanks and his crew have left as some wine.”

“I’m more concerned about the food,” you giggled, prompting Mihawk to break away from your forehead and smooth his hands over your hair, “All I’ve had to eat and drink today is that single piece of honeycomb, a glass of wine for breakfast, that small sip of unity wine shared with you, and a glass of wine with the clown when he prepared me in this ensemble.” His eyes widened, looking into your smiling face in shock. You laughed up at him, raising your hand up to caress his cheek.

“You’ve only had wine and honeycomb for the whole day, my beloved?” his tone held a small air of caution within.

“Yes, my heart,” you huffed out a small sigh of laughter at witnessing his agitation. Although his anger never left, the small twitch of his lip and hitch in his breath indicated his pleasure of receiving such a high honor of that title.

“Well that will simply not do,” he growled, shifting you in his grip to slip his arm around your waist and usher you through the cave mouth, “I have some sourdough and salted butter on the ship. We’ll break into that before we partake in the reception feast.” You smiled up at your husband, watching as he wordlessly gestured for your two wards to follow behind you.

Where Perona could not stop staring at your dress, the only thing within Zoro’s focus was how you looked up at Mihawk, and how Mihawk looked down at you. The love you held for each other within that expression alone had a pang sound within his heart, and caused soft doubts to shift his perspective.

Whether spoken aloud to you or not, Zoro’s quest in becoming the world's greatest swordsman would one day rip this fresh union apart. He would kill Mihawk to claim that title, and that would surely mean the destruction of your happiness.

As you made your way through the sandy coast and onto Mihawk’s vessel, Zoro continued to seek out different ways to achieve his goals and leave you both to thrive in your happiness.

From the peaceful drift into the Kuraigana port, to the reunification with your guests, Mihawk would not allow you a moment to break away from him. Hollars and cheers at your arrival were quickly silenced as they took in the next aspect of your ensemble.

Now exposed under the light of the moon, at each small movement of your legs beneath the dark skirt, the illumination of bioluminescent rocks shook and roared to life. The fanning material danced at your feet, the weight of the many layers of broad skirts heavy upon each footstep. You truly appreciated Mihawk’s presence at your side to enable you to lean against him for support each time the gown pulled at your waist and hips.

Your bodice was encrusted with similar trails of glassy stones, the overlaying chains from your neck to your waist forming the unity of constellations between both yours and Mihawk’s birth signs. Buggy had put an excessive amount of thought into such a piece, pooling all his knowledge to provide you the best reiteration of starlight he could truly muster.

The outdoor reception space was littered with soft strings of light, a circular wooden floor elevated a step up as a makeshift dance area. Several clusters of seats were available off to the sides of the wooden floor they were standing on, where a small quartet of musicians lay off to the side of the area and softly painting the air with their melodical portraiture.

Mihawk paid his guests little mind, other than a curt nod or a subtle smile to your former students. The many staff continued to present platters of bite-sized ensembles, each small taste of food attuned to both yours and Mihawk’s refined palates. Each time a tray was presented to you, you would break your conversation away from your guests and thank the staff with a warm smile on your face.

As he showcased you to his guests, he watched as the fatigue of the day was slowly catching up with you. The little stumble of your feet under the weight of the dress, the small waver in your smile when you assumed none were watching, the way you clung to his side: he was observant of your every moment and there at your side to catch you should you fall. He was yours to do with what you will, clay awaiting molding into the husband you desired him to be.

Music began to play at a more elevated volume, the guests encouraging you with a soft cheer to get you to open the dance floor together. Mihawk looked subtly off to you, noticing you were struggling beneath the layers of your skirts. No matter how vast your training in becoming a debutant yourself, nothing could have prepared you to carry the amount of weight from rocks of various shapes and sizes.

“Beloved, are you-,” Mihawk began, his short question being stolen from him by the nasally interruption of Captain Buggy D Clown.

“-If I may, my lady Dracule,” Buggy’s broad, painted smile laid brilliantly over his lips, “I have a small surprise for you.”

“Oh?” you asked, brows elevating up your forehead in curiosity.

“Your resume presented to the world government several years back indicated you were an excellent dancer, trained the best of them attending here today, in fact,” he complimented you bowing in a low and crouched stoop.

“I am a competent dancer, yes,” you admitted, eyeing him curiously as he picked at your hem with his gloveless fingers, “And I do enjoy the movement when the moment is called upon.”

“Then it would be such a shame should the moment be taken from you under the weight of this dress, my lady,” Buggy smirked up at you, a silver object playfully juggling between his fingertips. Before you realized what the object was, Buggy precautioned both you and Mihawk, “Bird-Boy, stand back. My lady, close your eyes and hold your breath.”

Immediately doing what you were told, you heard the ignition of a flint-lighter and the warm flash of open flame illuminating your eyelids to a deep crimson color. Gasps and screams from your guests informed you of all you needed to comprehend at this moment.

Captain Buggy D Clown had lit your dress on fire.

A wild rush of heat expanded over the base of your skirt, the tongues of blaze lapping at your skin and immediately cooled with bursts of icey air. As you felt the rising warmth begin to die down, you opened your eyes to witness the small, illuminant rocks burst and break to soothe over the licks of flame. Upon each burst of impact, the color of your dress would change to a crisp white, to a warm blue, down to a dark hue of red, all the way to a dim purple.

At the last burst of rock sparking and spurting over the gown, the arrangement that remained was a softer, pale dress that halted just below your knees. The slit from the hem on your left side tastefully elevated to just below the angle your thigh met at the curvature of your hips. The dress fanned out, dipping in at your waist and cinching in your bust. There were no remaining rocks nor combustive fabric on your body, much to your delight.

After you adjusted to your new weight distribution, feeling lighter and more energetic already, the picture you were left with standing before you was Buggy’s throat being impaled on the smaller blade formerly hung around your husband’s neck. Your eyes widened and your body moved faster than your mind did to halt the scene unfolding before you.

“First you kidnap my wife, now you light her on fire?” Mihawk barked, slashing at his throat while Buggy stuttered over his words, “It seems as if you are trying so desperately to get me to kill you, Clown. I should have you flogged and cast into the seas for your idiocy-.”

“-My heart, I am unharmed,” your voice broke him away from his heavy threats, his hands immediately withdrawing from the clown to cradle your cheeks within his palms. You kept your face calm, reassuring him with your expression alone that you remained unaltered and unharmed.

He floated his eyes between yours, briefly dipping to your lips before withdrawing back up to your eyes. You nodded within his hands in an act to reassure him further, your smile never faltering. After a hushed moment’s pause, Mihawk could no longer contain himself.

Hastily, he dipped his face down, lips colliding with yours and drawing several cheers from your guests. He hungrily consumed your lips, molding and shaping them beneath his with the desperation you were yet to see its equal. He swooped his hands behind your head, collecting the soft waves Buggy had created for you in fistfuls as he desperately joined his lips with yours. You slowly raked your hands over his waist, holding him close and reassuring him with soft circles against his body with your thumbs.

Squeaking against his lips at a small tug of your hair, Mihawk immediately loosened his aggressive grasping of your against you, and softly traced his fingertips over your jaw and set to cradle the scruff of your neck. The world faded from existence the longer Mihawk held you against his lips, folding himself against you and holding you in momentary blissful stasis.

Withdrawing his lips from yours, he gazed into your eyes while briefly panting to catch his breath. Shock eclipsed your features the exact moment you broke away, the cheers from your guests ignited the silence within the ringing of your ears.

“That was a good ‘en, Hawkie!” Shanks swayed in his speech as he slurred in his stupor, “Do it again!”

“Quiet down, Captain,” Beckman grunted, gently clapping Shanks on the shoulder, “That’s our exterminator you’re talking about. She deserves a little more respect than you’re offering the both of them presently.”

“Right, right. I’ll switch to water for a bit, Becks,” Shanks nodded, looking over at his crew and gesturing to the water barrels with his tankard. Mihawk never strayed his eyes from your features, constantly ensuring you were unharmed from the prior blaze.

“May I dance with you, my beloved?” Mihawk quietly offered, removing his hand from your neck and apprehensively outstretching his hands to you. You smiled at his soft gesture, immediately placing your right hand within his left and allowed him to chaperone you onto the dance floor.

At the swell of music, you hastily pressed your right hand against Mihawk’s left shoulder while he elevated your right hand to extend to the side. His left hand found the middle of your waist and pulled you against himself.

You carefully extended your left knee over Mihawk’s leg, the slit withdrawing itself tastefully to reveal your thigh to your guests. At that gesture, Mihawk immediately readjusted his stance: shifting to claim the base of your thigh within his hands as he awaited the appropriate rhythm to dictate his momentum.

“The Clown read your resume,” Mihawk smirked down at you, beginning to shift and maneuver you effortlessly within his arms, “But alas, I have not.” He nudged you with his left hand, following his lead by twirling your body within his arms and releasing his hold over you.

Both legs now firmly on the ground, you shifted your hips and began to rhythmically follow the melody rising with your feet. Holding your arms perpendicular to the ground, Mihawk collected your left hand and pressed a small kiss atop your wrist before raking his digits over your forearm.

“You never read my resume before you hired me?” You called over your shoulder, as he raised your left hand to cradle his neck behind you.

“Never,” Mihawk smiled, placing his right hand over your right and his left over your stomach. He began ushering you both with a rapid sway of his steps, a maneuver you flawlessly followed with each stride. He twirled you away, holding contact with your right arm before reclaiming it in his left hand.

“Then,” your puzzled expression remained atop your features as you once again faced Mihawk, “Why was I hired here? What drew you to me?” Your beau’s smile elevated, his eyes cracking at the corners as his nose scrunched upwards.

“Truthfully, my beloved,” he confessed, leaning forwards to indicate for you to fall backwards in your steps, “I am not certain what drew me to you. A feeling, I suppose.”

“A feeling?” you elevated your eyebrow and smirked up at him, “Something as simple as a feeling?”

Mihawk chuckled, twirling you away from him and catching your forearms within his grip, ushering your back to meet his chest. You huffed out a small exasperated breath, shaking your head and swaying with him to the rhythm.

“A feeling,” you repeated in a whisper, attempting to not allow your disdain from presenting too prominently against your features. Mihawk released your right arm, leaning forward and collecting your chin between his thumb and index finger.

“Allow me the luxury of rephrasing, my beloved,” Mihawk whispered, drawing your forehead to press against his while he moved his body from behind yours to face you once more.

Drawing up his left hand, he collected your right and his right hand found your back once more. His smile continued to highlight his face, a smile you had come to adore painted on his face beneath his mustache.

“From the moment I met you all those years ago, I adored you as a skilled governess,” he confessed, stepping backwards while you followed with your forward step, “The way you managed a variety of individuals: debutants, gentlemen and all those in between. Even the witless marines-.”

“-Mihawk,” your warning tone was broken with a small laugh, your smirking reprimand forming a smile over your lips, “Be kind.”

“Apologies, my beloved,” he snickered out a small chuckle, ushering for you to step outwards before hooking you back into his arms, “I never assumed you would accept a job at such short notice in the first place.”

“I had a lull in my waiting list,” you shrugged, turning to face him with a broader smile on your face, “And the stuttering scribbles were intriguing.” Mihawk laughed at your reference to his original summons for you to begin your tutelage of the two wards under his care.

As the melody swelled, he sighed out a breath, once again placing your forehead against his own and furrowing his brows. In a low whisper, he relayed his final confession to you. There was no room for humor, nor was there a place for the utterance of a lie within his breath.

“Before there was a possibility of joining with you in matrimony, I simply thought: ‘that was that. Time to live my life as an unmarried swordsman until the next generation rises up to claim that title from me’,” he smiled, halting his movement as the music ended its swell, “I never thought I would be training that aforementioned generation to take my life, nor did I imagine this twist of circumstances leading you to be within my arms now.”

You smiled a melancholy smile, only half elevated on your face at his confession. Trailing your hand over his shoulder, you extended it up to collect his whiskered cheek within your palm, soothing over his bottom lip with your thumb.

“And is this the life you wanted for yourself, Mihawk?” you whispered up at your beloved, searching his eyes for more truth within, “To live in momentary matrimonial peace before Zoro claims your title alongside your life?”

“This is the life that I have forged for myself,” he whispered against your thumb, pressing a kiss against the padded tip, “And I will hold onto it with every breath I still use to sustain my lungs. I love you, my wife. I am yours, and you are mine, for as long as we both shall live,” he withdrew your hand from his lips and circled it over his neck, “And for whatever comes next.”

“For whatever comes next,” you mirrored back with closed eyes and lips parted, “Sounds like an awfully exciting adventure, my heart.” Reopening your eyes, you witnessed the smile once again return to Mihawk’s lips.

At the music’s end, he swooped down to claim another kiss from you. Applause rang through the air, prompting you to part from the oscillation as hastily as you had it begin. The Red-Hair pirate crew and the Buggy-Pirates had begun offering each other their outstretched hands to lead them onto the dance floor.

You felt a small tap on your shoulder at the exact moment a soft, pale hand with pink-polished fingernails brushed with Mihawk’s own shoulder. You shook your head, confused as you were ushered into the awaiting arms and broad shoulders of Roronoa Zoro.

His smile was shallow, his mind plagued behind it with the smog of heavy thoughts. Extending out his hand, you took it and curtseyed as he bowed with you. Ushering you to circle the floor with a practiced waltz, Zoro continued to twirl you in silence.

“You have gotten much better, Zoro,” you complimented him, met with only a single hum in acknowledgement. You furrowed your brows, glancing between his bourbon-hued orbs while he refused to draw his gaze up to meet yours.

“Did you enjoy the drinks? I have yet to sample the wine presented at the reception-,” you were cut off as Zoro’s thoughts spoke atop your own.

“-I am going to claim his life from him, do you understand?” he gruffly commented, glaring over at Perona and Mihawk as he spun her within his arms with a broad grin and her unwithheld smile mirroring in return, “I intend to kill lord Dracule Mihawk.” You almost stumbled in your dance, recovering quickly as he continued to twirl you.

After taking a moment to collect your rapidly lashing thoughts, you inhaled a large gulp of breath and extended your exhale slowly through your lips.

“If that is what your destiny is leading you to fulfill,” you reached up your hand and collected his cheek, turning him to meet your eyes, “It is not for me to understand, nor is it my desire to halt you from achieving your goal.” He gasped at your words, stumbling over his feet and barely recovering.

“You won’t ask me not to?” Zoro’s breath hitched on his exhale, searching your eyes for any cause for further stumble, “You won’t plead for me to find a new goal? To settle for being second best and remain that way until we’re all cracked and graying?”

Giggling at his comment, you extended your arm out and circled it over his head: twirling the conflicted man within your arms.

“I married the ‘World’s Greatest Swordsman’, Dear,” you noted, your smile never wavering as you rejoined him within your arms, “It is an occupational hazard.”

Zoro’s surprise lingered on his features, his eyes misting over with the swell of emotions he did not prepare himself to express this night.

“And between us-,” you leant up to his ear, using this opportunity to draw him into a warm and encumbering embrace, “-I would rather it be you. You are someone we both trust,” you withdrew him from your arms and smiled whimsically up at him, “Someone who will grant him the luxury of a swift and merciful departure from this life, should you both be ready to take that step.”

Where you assumed he would grunt out a gruff groan, you were shocked when he leant further into your arms and circled his forearms around your waist. He nuzzled into your neck, his shoulders beginning to sink against the weight of his confliction.

“You trust me?” he choked within his soft whisper, “You trust me to give him an honorable death?” His shoulders shuddered within your arms, you immediately drew your hands up to caress his moss-coloured locks.

“Of course I trust you, Zoro. Just, if you were to grant me one simple favor,” he withdrew from your embrace, continuing to hold your waist as he stared down and awaited further instruction, “Please don’t kill him tonight?” Zoro’s laughter cut through the air, drawing many eyes over to your location as you joined him in his unbridled laughter.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my lady,” he chuckled, briefly joining his forehead against your own and scrunching his nose with his smile.

“Good boy,” you complimented him with a single tap on his shoulder, “And your dancing really has improved.” You nodded to his feet, noticing how effortlessly he was shepherding you throughout the movements.

“I learnt from the best, my lady,” he winked down at you, his golden drooped earrings glinting within the refraction of the lights.

As the melody crescendoed from one song into the next, you twirled from within Zoro’s arms and immediately met your right hand against a cool piece of metal, curving beneath your fingertips.

“If I may, my lady,” the cool rumble of Sir Crocodile reverberated within your chest and shot a tingle up your spine. Although no malice was withheld in his tone, the danger was always present with a man such as he.

“Sir Crocodile,” you nodded, focussing your body on allowing him to lead you throughout the floor, “I would like to take the opportunity to thank you for your beautiful dress you crafted for me.”

“I do plan on collecting that debt from the both of you, my lady,” he smirked down at you with a broad grin. His eyes held a bored malice within his purple orbs, hunching down to claim your body within his arms. The impressive height he towered over you had you feeling smaller within his grasp, an advantage you planned on gaining back from him with your wit.

“And what would you ask of me, Sir?” you smiled up at him, twirling within his arms and circling your body around his back. You drew your fingers over his flesh, watching the visible shudder arising beneath the movement, “I am a simple governess-.”

“-You are Lady Dracule, now,” he retorted, gazing down at you through the corner of his eyes, “A lady who has sway and leverage over a lord. A lady who holds the heart of such a man as he, the ‘World’s Greatest Swordsman’. A lady who-.” You hastily pressed your fingers atop the golden hook, your eyes baring dangerously into his own.

“-Who was and forever will be-,” your low tone had Crocodile taken aback at your statement, “-A simple governess.”

“And what would a simple governess be able to offer me?” his amused grin parted his lips and elevated his brows. The silvery mark over his cheeks and nose had the purple hues holding more danger within their orbs, “Music and dance lessons, I have hardly a use for.”

“A governess who has done all a governess could do here,” you smiled up at him, leading him into a twirl, your spin prompting almost a laugh to fall from his lips, “Tamed and trained two unruly youths, along with having one of the world’s most powerful men fall to their knees and beg to claim me as their own.”

The smirk of Sir Crocodile rose on his lips, his words beginning to form behind his teeth only to be halted by a final word of warning from you.

“Whenever you desire such a woman to perform such an impossible and improbable task as this,” you silenced him with your words, “You know where I will be.”

At that, you bowed a low curtsey to him and attempted to flee from his arms, only for the hook to catch the crook of your elbow and tug you back into his arms for his final words.

“An expert tamer of unruly individuals,” he whispered in your ear, the ghost of his last cigar lingering on his lips as his breath met with the shell of your ear, “I shall keep you in mind for when such a purpose arises.” Unclasping your arm from within his hook, Sir Crocodile took his leave of you with a final bow.

You shook off his words, the next partner finding themselves within your arms whipped their cerulean hair against your cheek as they spun you on your toes three times in a circle.

“I truly am sorry about the kidnapping, my lady,” Buggy uttered with a warm smile, “And I am only partly apologetic for the glorious blaze.” Although you had met both Buggy and Sir Crocodile at the same time, you felt much more comfortable being wielded within his arms than the experience prior.

Buggy released you, clapped his hands three times and stomped his feet rhythmically to the music. You laughed, mirroring his posture and his rhythm back at him. His eyes widened, heart swelling at you matching his exaggerated movements and prompting him to produce some far more elaborate motions.

He was a joy to dance with, his own starlight shining within his teal eyes and reflecting back onto his various assortment of formal attire. Although no longer wearing a frill-neck collar, his cravat had just as many ruffles fluffing at his jaw.

“I am not sorry in the slightest for either,” you admitted, your own nod and spin on your toes keeping Buggy mirroring your movements first before stepping in again to claim you in his arms.

“Not even the kidnapping?” he winced out a small apprehensive grin.

“No, it was an enjoyable experience,” you confessed, laughing in his arms as he assumed the waltz position and stepped in time to the swell of music, “I especially enjoyed the wine.”

“Then you have found the perfect match in Mihawk,” he nodded, scrunching up his nose at the thought, “Personally, I don’t know how you both drink that vinegary piss. I prefer the sweets to compliment and mask my saltiness. Rum is best.”

“I thank you for your compliments, captain,” you smiled at him.

“About the vinegary piss?” his brows furrowed in confusion, his smile scrunching into a soft pout. You laughed at his comment, shaking your head at him.

“About the perfect match,” you confessed, feeling the end of the music calling to you. Buggy chuckled, offering you a small bow before dismissively waving his hand at you and uncharacteristically turning on his heel.

You were puzzled at that final gesture, not understanding where such an expression was necessary before you felt a hand clasp around your waist.

“‘S not you, love,” the voice of a red-haired captain uttered beside you, “He still is hung up on our old childhood rivalry.”

“Ah,” you gasped in understanding with a curt nod, turning in his arm to face him. Dancing with Shanks was an occurrence you were privy to experiencing from time to time aboard the Red-Force with his crew. His attitude was always playful and light with you, always a gentleman.

“You truly look spectacular tonight, Vile Exterminator,” he complimented you, shifting his dancing position to usher you with his right hand in light of his missing left hand. Joining now both of your right hands, you both stepped in and out before twirling under his arm.

“Thank you, Red-Haired Rat,” you smirked at him, feeling a pair of eyes watching you dance within Shanks’ arms.

“I think the big man wants a word,” Shanks confirmed your suspicions, nodding over to his steel-haired first mate, extinguishing his cigarette with his boot heel against the gravel road beside the dancefloor. Shanks twirled you twice more before you were flung from his arm and into the awaiting and ill-practiced hands of Benn Beckman.

“Sorry, my lady,” he uttered, his legs awkwardly swaying him from side to side with you within his arms, “I’m no good at this formal dancin’. I don’t do this.”

“I know, Benn,” you smiled at him with a soft, close-lipped grin, “But I do appreciate the effort.” He hummed with a curt cough in response, truly feeling out of place with this genre of dance.

“About what’s to come,” he gruffly coughed, attempting to spin you on the dancefloor as easily as he could ask his body to perform such a skill, “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” You sighed out a small huff of breath, shaking your head at him as he continued to explain to you.

“There’s a lot of knots,” he confessed with a winced, grimacing smile, “I mean, a lot of knots.”

“I trust you,” you shrugged, feeling his tension rising in his shoulders and stance. You halted the elaborate dance, ushering him off to the side of the dancefloor and opting to sway with him to the beat while he aired his concerns.

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable with the experience,” he confessed, the gray tint of his eyes holding you firmly within his vision, “Some of the knots are in-... -a few key places.”

Your rapid and unwavering blink told Beckman all he needed to know regarding his apprehension.

“It was my own fault for asking this in the first place, Benn,” you confessed again with a shrug, “And, I reiterate: I trust you. We’ve known each other for years, and of all those aboard the Red-Force,” you feigned a small hum of deep thought, before smiling up at the burly first-mate, “I do trust you the most.”

“I hope your trust isn’t misguided, my lady,” he grunted, your left hand being claimed by a presence at your side. The small, almost invisible smile, from Beckman informed you that the Rat was once again at your side.

“And, she’s mine again,” Shank’s playful tone cut in, peeling you away from Beckman and onto the dancefloor once more. He ushered you into a skilled twirl, your smile once again returning to your face as the swell of music reached the peak and began its crescendo towards the final.

As Shanks made to draw you into another embrace at his chest, you felt the tug of your waist pull you back within familiar and comfortable arms. A warm smile and a flush rose to your cheeks, humming as you lent into his chest.

“Missed me, beloved?” the man behind you held an air of confidence, turning you within his arms as you looked up at him through half-hooded eyes.

“Always, my heart,” you retorted, elevating your arms to seek out the nape of his neck. He hummed at your confession, mirroring your adoration down at you, “Shall we have a rest? Enjoy some mead and begin the fire?”

“A fire?” the elated voice of the cerulean-haired clown-captain called out in joy, “We’re having a fire like the good old days?” Shanks hesitantly walked beside Buggy, offering him a small smile and confirming with him.

“Just like the old days,” Shanks nodded, looking between Buggy and Mihawk, “Back when Roger made us collect the wood, but wouldn’t let us near the flint and steel.”

“And look who’s got the spark now, boys!” Buggy’s crackled cackle and his powerful stance prompted laughs to rise among the guests. Beckman shook his head, wordlessly directing the Red-Hair crew to begin building a fire for you and your husband to enjoy.

You nuzzled into the warm and exposed chest of your husband, feeling the weight shift from you against him as he slightly elevated you off your feet.

“I think sitting down is a good idea,” you confessed, looking down at your worn shoes and rapidly swelling feet from the elaborate dancing and carrying the weighty dress.

“Then that is what we will do, my beloved,” Mihawk smiled softly down at you, pressing his forehead against your own as he enjoyed the feeling of holding you in his arms once again.

Sitting within the arms of your husband, the crackle of the fire illuminated the guests that remained behind at the castle, some setting up bedrolls and pitching tents within the surroundings.

Mihawk hooked his arm around your shoulder, drawing you against himself and pressing soft kisses against your temple while whispering sweet phrases and poetry within your ear. His beard tickled at each short utterance, prompting a giggle to fall from not only the words, but the feeling of his beard against your skin.

Shanks was the first to notice the small lull in atmosphere, a fiendish grin finding purchase against his lips as he refilled his tankard from the barrel of mead.

“Alright, you lot. According to the customs of Kuraigana,” Shank’s stumbling and partially inebriated voice slurred, “We all know what comes next for you two. We’ve ‘gotta follow all of the traditions of the land. You know, so the ghostly hag is happy.”

“What are you implying, Red-Hair,” Mihawk’s prior warm tone cracked under its now icey exterior, “Surely you don’t mean-.”

“-Why the ‘Bedding Ceremony’ of course!” Shanks attempted to rise to his feet, stumbling backwards and momentarily sitting upon the lap of his first mate, who apprehensively caught him. “Thanks big man,” he mumbled, rising successfully to his feet and thrusting out his tankard, “You go up there with your Sunshine bride, and we wait out here and make as much noise as we can while you perform your husbandly duties.”

A warm flush rose to your cheeks, littering your face with the warmth of blood swelling to the tips of your ears. You could feel the rapid pulse beating in your eardrums, your heart stampeding your racing mind of all thoughts of what was yet to come.

“Then you come and rejoin us as one flesh,” Shanks concluded, saluting Mihawk with his broad tankard, “And we drink to the happy couple, and carry off our celebrations into the wee hours of the morn.”

“Is this truly a custom of this land, my heart?” you uttered quietly to the broody bearded man at your side, his attention snapping over towards you. His eyes softened as his heart swelled, lips parting while drawing up his right hand to caress your cheek.

“Unfortunately it is, my beloved,” he whispered with a half-smile, “And a custom we need not adhere to should you find discomfort in such a feat.”

You allowed a small giggle to fall from your lips, leaning into Mihawk’s gentle caress and pressing a soft kiss on the heel of his palm.

“It could be worse,” you allowed the giggle to rise in volume as your smile broadened, “In Germa-Kingdom, the guests watch the act while they throw sugar-coated almonds at the newlyweds in the hopes it will aid in producing male offspring.” You placed your hand over Mihawk’s, his still holding your cheek as his smile mirrored your own.

“I suppose this custom is not so bad, then,” Mihawk chuckled, rising to his feet and offering you out his hand, “Shall we, my beloved?”

“I suppose it is time,” you smiled in return, placing your hand within his and allowing him to hoist you up from your position on the log. Mihawk’s brows creased, mild agitation forming at the center of his forehead. Before you could ask him what was bothering him, he turned his head to Beckman: who was already rising to stand.

The blush returned as your eyes widened, almost forgetting what you had requested of the cursed moss-agate ring on your unity finger.

“Beckman,” Mihawk’s agitation growing in depth as the hoarse growl rumbled in his throat, “In light of the fact this is part of the covenant pact forged with the ring-.”

“-I would not lay a single finger unnecessarily on your wife, lord Mihawk,” Beckman’s whiskey voice hummed as he inhaled his cigarette to the filter end, “Would you prefer it be Shanks in his current stupor using his right hand and teeth?”

“Absolutely not,” Mihawk barked at the suggestion.

“Then I will make it quick and precise,” Beckman reassured him with a curt nod, “Follow up in twenty minutes, and your bride will be awaiting you to unwrap her within your marriage bed.”

Beckman outstretched the crook of his elbow, a satchel containing what you presumed to be your sun-dress shrugged over his shoulder. You apprehensively withdrew your hand from Mihawk’s, giving him one more longing look before you allowed yourself to be ushered into the halls of Castle Kuraigana.

You both walked in silence, unsure of what words needed to be spoken between you before you engaged in this next aspect of your night together. The silence was peaceful, the soft tranquility you had not experienced since beginning this venture of matrimony. You were almost thankful this moment was granted to you to share with one of your most respected acquaintances in your time as a governess.

He chaperoned you into the halls, finding the door that led into the suite allocated to both you and Mihawk as the lord and lady of Kuraigana. In the wake of the soft tranquility, anxiety at the anticipation of what’s to come awoke within your chest. Your heart elevated its rhythmic thundering, your mind beginning to swirl and race as the anticipation only grew.

“Take a moment, my lady,” Beckman’s soothing voice hummed at you, “All the time you need, alright? It’s a lot of changes to adjust to, and I would never dream of rushing you.”

“Thank you, Benn,” you exhaled, rolling your neck and attempting to stifle the rise in your anxious thoughts. After a few small breaths, you reopened your eyes and smiled to yourself as you felt finally ‘ready’ to begin this new chapter of your life.

The door shut behind the first-mate of the Red-Hair pirates, you made your way behind the dressing screen. You silently thanked Buggy for ensuring this garment was easier for you to remove than the one prior, but anticipation rose in your chest as Beckman revealed a satchel to you.

“This is going to be extremely difficult to do whilst blindfolded, my lady,” he gruffly chuckled, retrieving several golden strands of linked chains from within the canvas bag, “Are you certain this is adhering to the covenant you made with the aetherial pest?”

“To quote my own words, Benn,” you shook your head and straightened your shoulders, “‘Sunlight: a dress that meets the intensity of the sun with its rays of gold and copper. An accumulation of material so outrageously forbidden, it be intended for your eyes alone with its purpose. A dress so scantily designed that you will find none to ever match its equal in both color and provocative appearance’.” Your voice mocked your own recollection, prompting Beckman to chuckle at your tone.

“Well then, there may be a small hiccup in our plan,” he shrugged, taking out a strip of lengthy material and beginning to fold it in half. Upon measuring the half-width, Beckman used his canine teeth to puncture the fabric and tear it into two, thick strips.

“What do you mean, Benn?” your eyes followed his movements with both intrigue and curiosity.

“For his eyes alone,” he quoted back at you, chuckling as he handed you one of the strips, “Looks like I won’t be the only one experiencing sensory deprivation in this little encounter, my lady.” Taking the fabric from his outstretched hands, your brows knit together before the realization hit you.

“You’ll have to wear a blindfold too.”

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bitchesgetriches · 2 months

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If You Don’t Eat Leftovers I Don’t Even Want to Know You

You Are above Bottled Water, You Elegant Land Mermaid

You Should Learn To Cook. Here’s Why.

On entertainment and socializing:

The Frugal Introvert’s Guide to the Weekend

7 Totally Reasonable Ways To Save Money on Cheap Entertainment

Take Pride in Being a Cheap Date

The Library Is a Magical Place and You Should Fucking Go There

Your Library Lets You Stream Audiobooks and eBooks FOR FREEEEEEE!

What’s the Effect of Social Media on Your Finances?

You Won’t Regret Your Frugal 20s

On health:

How to Pay Hospital Bills When You’re Flat Broke

Run With Me if You Want to Save: How Exercising Will Save You Money

Our Master List of 100% Free Mental Health Self-Care Tactics

Why You Probably Don’t Need That Gym Membership

How to Get DIRT CHEAP Pet Medication, Without a Prescription

On other big expenses:

Businesses Will Happily Give You HUGE Discounts if You Ask This Magic Question

Understand the Hidden Costs of Travel and Avoid Them Like the Plague

Other People’s Weddings Don’t Have to Make You Broke

You Deserve Cheap, Fake Jewelry… Just Like Coco Chanel

3 Times I Was Damn Grateful for My Emergency Fund (and Side Income)

When (and How) to Try Refinancing or Consolidating Student Loans

The Real Story of How I Paid Off My Mortgage Early in 4 Years

Season 2, Episode 2: “I’m Not Ready to Buy a House—But How Do I *Get Ready* to Get Ready?”

The Most Impactful Financial Decision I’ve Ever Made… and Why I Don’t Recommend It

On buying secondhand and trading:

Almost Everything Can Be Purchased Secondhand

I Am a Craigslist Samurai and so Can You: How to Sell Used Stuff Online

The Delicate Art of the Friend Trade

On giving gifts and charitable donations:

How Can I Tame My Family’s Crazy Gift-Giving Expectations?

In Defense of Shameless Regifting

Make Sure Your Donations Have the Biggest Impact by Ruthlessly Judging Charities

The Anti-Consumerist Gift Guide: I Have No Gift to Bring, Pa Rum Pa Pum Pum

How to Spot a Charitable Scam

Ask the Bitches: How Do I Say “No” When a Loved One Asks for Money… Again?

On resisting temptation:

How to Insulate Yourself From Advertisements

Making Decisions Under Stress: The Siren Song of Chocolate Cake

The Magically Frugal Power of Patience

6 Proven Tactics for Avoiding Emotional Impulse Spending

On minimalism and buying less:

Don’t Spend Money on Shit You Don’t Like, Fool

Everything I Know About Minimalism I Learned from the Zombie Apocalypse

Slay Your Financial Vampires

The Subscription Box Craze and the Mindlessness of Wasteful Spending

On saving money:

How To Start Small by Saving Small

Not Every Savings Account Is Created Equal

The Unexpected Benefits (and Downsides) of Money Challenges

Budgets Don’t Work for Everyone—Try the Spending Tracker System Instead

From HYSAs to CDs, Here’s How to Level Up Your Financial Savings

Season 2, Episode 10: “Which Is Smarter: Getting a Loan? or Saving up to Pay Cash?”

The Magic of Unclaimed Property: How I Made $1,900 in 10 Minutes by Being a Disorganized Mess

We will periodically update this list with newer articles. And by “periodically” I mean “when we remember that it’s something we forgot to do for four months.”

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phantasmagoria-in-neverland · 1 year

Note

Hi again! May I also please request some headcanons of what being married to various Star Wars characters is like?

Various Star Wars Characters Headcanons: What being Married to them is like.

Hi, of course you can! I'm sorry it took me so long to finish this, but hopefully it will be worth the wait. I'm going to get started on your other request as soon as I am able, and also, I didn't add Cal to this one given how lengthy it already is, but feel free to ask me to. Oh, one last thing, if anyone wants to request Wedding Day or Proposals Headcanons you absolutely can, I would have added them in this one, but as I've said, it's way too long. Enjoy!

Obi-Wan Kenobi:

-I am absolutely convinced Obi-Wan would make the perfect husband, if his way of life didn't get as in the way as it does. Still, if he has decided to marry you, he surely has gotten over any conflicting feelings about breaking the code, and has made you and your marriage his absolute top priority. Obi-Wan is nothing if not a deeply committed man, and once he is pouring all of it on you, you can be certain he will fight to make your relationship work against each and every odd.

-Obi-Wan is, most of all, a caring and attentive partner. He always makes the most of the time you spend together, and never makes you feel clingy or annoying if the separation ever gets to you. He never forgets your anniversaries or what and where your "firsts" together have been, and his gifts, while not necessarily expensive, are always super thought out.

-He is an amazing communicator with basically endless patience, fights with him are practically nonexistent, and even when they do happen he goes about it super rationally and never ever raises his voice. He would bend himself backwards for your happiness and safety and he always pays attention to make sure you are 100% comfortable with him, and with coming to him about any issues or feelings you might have.

-Obi-Wan proposed to you with the intention of letting you know just how committed he is to the family you are building together and how much he trusts you. So really, jealousy is definitely not an issue in your marriage. Still, nobody knows about it, not even Ani, even though he and a few other close friends definitely suspect something. Especially because Obi-Wan absolutely refuses to not have his wedding ring hidden somewhere on his person. (There have been... a few close calls because of it, you're both lucky he can charm his way out of almost anything.)

-He is very domestic, or at least does his best to be, with his duties in the way and all. He always tries to cook at least one meal for you, and he absolutely adores coming home to you and something you've prepared for him (no matter how good you are at it. Honestly if you're still learning, he is your number one supporter and encourager.) He never complains about chores and does his best to make them enjoyable for the both of you, if you have something you'd rather not do, whatever it is he is more than happy to take over.

-Obi-Wan is great with children, and if you decided to have some after the fall of the Order, he would be an amazing dad. Just keep in mind that he might be quite a bit more apprehensive/protective after you are forced into hiding, he blames himself for a lot of things and it might take a while for him to be ready to expand your family. But don't worry, once you both find some peace again he will be ecstatic about it, after all, there's nothing in the Universe worth more than you guys.

Anakin Skywalker:

-Anakin wouldn't be a bad husband by any means, but he's got some work to do on himself you might have to help him through. Still, I assure you, he would do his absolute damned best to be great for you, and he would love you more than it should be humanly possible. Nothing could ever even come close to meaning as much as you do to him, he would literally let the whole galaxy burn if it made you happy. Which might, depending on you, be one of those tendencies you should pull him away from. Or don't, no judgment here.

Anyway, what matters the most is: Anakin is devoted.

-Ani is very empathetic, especially when it comes to you. Sometimes you feel like he might understand your moods even better than you do, which means, as soon as he feels like you might be even a little bit sad or stressed, Ani is dropping everything to come cheer you up. Which no doubt will get him in trouble, but it's not like he cares. He can be a bit clingy/overprotective of you, honestly. Again, if you want him to be a bit more responsible then you're gonna have to help him work on it. Won't ever forget your "firsts" or anniversaries, but gifts are not really his forte, so except a few handmade pieces every now and again he would much rather celebrate by going somewhere and creating new memories together.

-While he has no trouble at all understanding you, Ani has quite a few problems with communicating himself and his thoughts. Half the time he tells you every little detail of what's going through his mind, which could easily lead to him overthinking if you don't help him calm down. And every other time he can't even get his mouth open to tell you how his day is going, which usually happens when he is particularly upset about something, luckily it's easy to tell it's happening and you won't have too much trouble coaxing it out of him (He really really wants to tell you everything, he just doesn't know where to even begin.) So, even though fights can happen quite often, mostly because Ani tends to be a bit emotional about things he cares for, they are easily resolved. He refuses to go to sleep without you/knowing you mad at him, so really, they don't last more than a few hours.

-Anakin proposed to you shortly after you confessed your feelings for each other, seeing no point in waiting since he knows with his entire heart that you are his other half. Jealousy might be a little bit of an issue, mostly because nobody knows that you two belong to each other and the secrecy drives him up the walls, and as I've said, Ani can be a bit hot-blooded about what he loves. But honestly, it's an easy fix, just don't spend more time with someone else than you do him, and let him hold you close if he needs it.

-Speaking of the secrecy, Ani didn't even think twice about breaking the code for you, what makes you think he wouldn't try to scream how much he loves you from every rooftop in Coruscant? Honestly, unless you don't mind all the endless problems that you and especially him would have to face with the Jedi Order, you're gonna have to be really convincing to make him see reason. And even then, he's not going to act like you're not the most important person in his life, or accept that he can't kiss you whenever you feel like it, or be ashamed of displaying his wedding ring. The best he's going to do is probably move the both of you behind a column or something... as if that wouldn't be suspicious in a room full of force sensitives. So really, your relationship is only a secret because the people around you would rather pretend it is. Mostly because they recognise that you are good for him, Obi-Wan most of all.

-Anakin might not be the best at taking care of the house, or have much patience for chores, but he's not gonna leave all the burden to you. He's going to help until he completely runs out of patience and then he's going to distract both of you and make it a "tomorrow's" problem. I feel like he'd be great with kids if you decided to have them, especially if he's gotten away from the Order. And also, having them might really help him mature/become a little more responsible, he really wants to do right by you.

Luke Skywalker:

-Luke is a sweetheart whose first priority is always his family, and that really shines through in your marriage. I mean, have you seen him with his father? There's nothing you could do that would make Luke give up on you, ever. He thinks the world of you no matter what, and he never blames you whenever you can't be the best version of yourself. Saying he's an understanding partner would be putting it very lightly.

-Luke treats you as if you were his shining light in the darkness, his saving grace, the beacon of hope in his life. He always wants you to feel appreciated and valued, and he does his absolute best to let you know that through his actions and words, but you can see it the most when any type of celebration comes up. He has a list of all the things you casually mention during conversations that you might want or need, and he gifts them to you any time he has even just a slight excuse to.

-Luke is also a great communicator, and he always keeps his calm during conflicts. He does his absolute best to put himself in your shoes if you disagree on something, and even when he can't he never makes you feel like your opinion is "wrong". Even though he might seem a bit plaintive to those who don't know him well, Luke only brings up even really small issues to avoid either of you stewing on it needlessly. It's much easier in the long run to just get things off your chest, and reach an understanding. So in the end, while disagreements surely happen, they extremely rarely evolve into fights.

-Luke proposed to you out of the simple and pure desire to be able to call you his family. There's nothing that brings him more joy than catching a glimpse of either his or your own ring shining on your fingers. It's like the physical proof that he is yours as you are his, that he has a home he belongs to. Leia and Han love you to bits, the happiness you bring to the family and most importantly to Luke, is the best thing they could've asked for. Han would say he knew you two would get together from the very start, but honestly, it was Leia who just felt it. Either way, the chemistry you two shared would have been hard to miss, which is why Luke didn't have much of a choice in telling them about your relationship. (It's difficult to keep feelings secret when your twin sister is force sensitive.)

-Luke isn't a jealous man by nature, but really, the sheer trust he has in you and what you two have is more than enough for him to never be bothered by those who flirt with you. And honestly, he understands them, how could they not want to, he's just unbelievably glad that out of everyone, you chose him.

-Luke is amazing at taking care of the house, (the perks of growing up on a farm) he never leaves messes behind, he knows how to cook, and any chore will be carried out efficiently and without complaints. His way of life is simple and peaceful, like a true Jedi, and depending on you, you'll either be the most homely and tranquil couple the galaxy has ever seen, or you will bring fun and excitement into his life and you'll balance each other out. Either way, he is amazing at going with the flow.

-For as much as your family means to him, Luke might still be a little hesitant about having kids. It's not as if he doesn't want them, stars no, but he has quite a few worries. Most of all, he fears turning out like his own father, and how fragmented and unsteady the Galaxy is, even after the victory of the rebellion. Honestly he just wants them to be happy and have an easier life than he did, which he's deadly afraid of not being able to provide. It might take a while to reassure him, and you'd have to be patient, but he's going to be the happiest man in the whole Universe as soon as he's holding your child in his arms, so it's gonna be worth it.

Han Solo:

-It would take a while for Han to realize that hey, this is serious, that he truly really might want to spend the rest of his life by your side. There would be a time when that realization would frighten him, make him pull away from anything he isn't ready to lose: you. Commitment is not something that comes easy to him, and it would be the roughest patch in your entire relationship, it would take lots of reassurance and persistence on your side, but once that is over, oh boy is he committed. When Han finally accepts the true extent of his feelings for you, that he now can't for the life of him let you slip through his fingers, be prepared, cause he's gonna make this work, you're stuck with him now. (And Chewie)

A relationship with him is fun, he knows how to have a good time and he wants any time you two spend together to become a good memory, even under less than ideal circumstances. He's going to make the most inappropriate jokes at the most inappropriate times, he's going to tease you like his life depends on it, and he's going to make you laugh like nobody else ever could. It only takes putting up with his enormous but quite fragile ego, really.

He has a tendency to avoid taking anything too seriously, which depending on you might get a little annoying at times, but he is also really dependable when it comes down to it. Sure, he is going to complain to hell and back, but he would die for you in a heartbeat, anything less than that is just more material to jokingly throw back at you when he wants to get out of doing something. It never works.

-Celebrations and anniversaries are Han’s favourite days, does he only remember about a few of them the literal day of? absolutely, but damn him if he doesn't make them special. Han is all about living in the moment, he wants every second dedicated to celebrating you or your relationship to be memorable, and he can be cheesy when it comes to it, just never say that out loud. You guys' song is playing, even tho he insists you don't have one? He is holding your hand or dancing with you. What do you mean he's being romantic, he just had to show off his moves. You have a favourite food and you suddenly find it in the kitchen? Don't look at him like that, he didn't do it for you, he was just craving it and was nice enough to get you some, even tho there's only one plate and you are pretty sure you can still spot the residues of a failed cooking attempt.

He might not get you a gift every time, cause that's not really his forte, and depending on the time you might be a little short on money, but there are a few really significant ones every now and again, like the dress or suit you’ve been saving up for, or the necklace he bought you when you'd been away from each other for a few days and stars did he miss you.

-Han is… not great at communicating in a way that doesn't contain an excessive amount of snark. It's never insulting, and he makes sure to stay clear of anything that might actually hurt you, but this man grew up with only fighting spirit and sarcasm on his side, and he still has a hard time remembering that he doesn't have to defend himself from you, that showing you his emotions and caring doesn’t mean he’s pathetic. The longer you two are together the better he becomes at taking a step away to calm down before speaking, sure, your relationship is still made of almost constant banter, but now it's playful and lighthearted, and Han truly makes an effort to be serious when you want him to be. Hotheaded and stubborn as he is, he would never hurt you on purpose.

-Han proposed right after he got over the mental breakdown that came with realizing the extent of his feelings for you, now that he's aware? It's ride or die. Really, there have been very very few people that he has ever cared for more than himself, he would trade his happiness for yours, he couldn't love you more than he already does, couldn't love nobody else the same way.

Still, this man's jealousy is through the roof. It's definitely not because he doesn't trust you, but he can't help but fear the day you might meet someone worthier of your affection then him. For as cocky as he tends to be, Han knows he is not always the easiest to get along with, so just let him stand close to you when you're out, and wrap his arm around you when somebody is “clearly” trying to flirt with you, and he will be back to his confident self in no time. It would be even easier to deal with if you were comfortable with letting him tell everyone and their families that you're married. No but seriously, there is no chance your relationship was ever a secret, Han has no filter when it comes to bragging and oh boy is he proud of you. And lets not forget the wedding ring, being a pilot he mostly wears it on a chain around his neck, but that thing is on display. He even develops the endearing habit of holding onto it when he is doing something just a little too risky, you're his lucky charm, and if you were to show off your ring just as much as he does? Well, you might never hear the end of it, but you can tell he gets sentimental about it.

-Han never thought he'd be one for domesticity, and in a lot of ways he still isn't. He can't cook to save his life, he despises chores so much that you can pretty much just thank Chewie if the Falcon is a somewhat livable space at all, and some of his clothes have holes in them he barely tried to mend. But you have made a huge difference, and even tho he won't even try and help you when it comes to stoves, he'll take care of the coffee and he'll set the table and you don’t even have to ask. He won't help you and Chewbacca with the cleaning and tidying but he'll make sure to stop leaving things around and pick up after himself to give you an easier time (not a day goes by that Chewie doesn't thank the stars for your existence). And he still fusses about his clothes, but he makes you something to drink and watches you sew with so much awe you feel like you're hanging the stars in the sky.

So yes, he still sucks at it, but he loves what you two have more than anything in the world, and he tries, he really does, cause you make him want to be the best version of himself. And when it comes to kids, well… parenthood scares him half to death, but he knows it will be amazing if he has you to learn with, and no matter what obstacles your family will have to face, he promises you, he'll make it work.

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin:

-Din is a family man through and through. He would be dedicated to your relationship from the very beginning, and even more so now that you are married. If he has gotten into a serious partnership with you, especially if it happened after he found the child, it means that you are it for him, you are the love of his life, the parent of his kids, his clan, the only one he will ever have by his side. And it's useless to say that he is loyal to a fault, he will have your back against anything and anyone, come hell or high water, and he will protect you even on the smallest of things as if his life depended on it. Anything that is important to you automatically becomes top priority for him as well, and you will never want for anything as long as there is breath in his lungs. It can be a bit much at times, especially because he pretty much puts you on a pedestal, but it's not as if he wants you to be perfect, he knows your faults and embraces them, he just can't help but be adoring of every single part of you.

With him, you will never even have a chance to look down on yourself, you and Grogu are the best thing that could have ever happened to him, and he will remind you of that until his voice gets hoarse if he thinks you don't believe it.

-Din is not big on celebrations, but he always does something to make you feel appreciated, and he remembers all of them. Even if he doesn't bring you anywhere fancy, he knows quite a few beautiful and secluded spots, where the two of you can simply bask in each other's presence and be at peace. A simple but thought out gift he remembers you like, your favourite song in the background, any type of food you like the most. He's observant and he knows you like the back of his hand, so rest assured, the entire day will be tailored to fit your mood and preferences. And if you do something for him? Stars, you just might kill him. No, his voice isn't shaking, he's fine, don't worry he just needs a minute.

-Din never raises his voice at you, and he has the patience of a saint, but he isn't great at expressing his own thoughts and feelings. He listens to everything you have to say, and because of how much he respects you and values your opinion, he always takes the points you make into consideration with great attention. Din hates fighting with you and he isn't afraid to admit when he's in the wrong, so usually arguments end fairly easily, but he also isn't afraid to stand his ground, which is where most of your troubles reside. If he has listened to your perspective and still thinks he's right, he can come across as a little… patronizing. He would never believe himself better than you of course, quite the opposite, but he can at times sound curt or dismissive, even when he doesn't mean to be. Just tell him that, and he will be more than willing to try and express himself better, you might have to help him with it tho.

-Din proposed to you almost out of the blue, you probably wouldn't expect it, and he might not even have a ring on him, but his speech would be so heartfelt and honest that you might have a hard time holding back tears (and honestly, once you say yes he would too, you just wouldn't be able to see it). I imagine it would happen something like this: he came home from a job that had dragged on for a little too long, ready to just collapse somewhere on the floor of the Crest, and forgetting in his tiredness that he is not alone anymore. He would be almost taken aback once he opens the door, finding the lights still on and you, with the child held tightly in your arms, asleep on his chair in the cockpit, clearly having tried to stay up to wait for him. It would be a sudden but gentle realization, that now he has everything he has ever wanted and never thought he could have, that you are his family, and he has to officialise that, he has to properly make you a clan of three. And oh is he itching to rip off his helmet and finally let you see him. Altho he would rather do things properly, because you deserve nothing less, he’d just have to ask you right in that moment.

Any jealousy Din might have would evaporate once you get married, but please, do flaunt your ring, he will melt.

-There's not much space for domesticity in the life of a bounty hunter, nor is it a Mandalorian specialty, but against all odds, Din craves it more than anything. You are his home, and he tries his damn hardest to be the same for you, and he's quite the natural at it, although the last time he's experienced it himself has been way back when he still had his parents, so he is a little rusty.

Chores are swiftly dealt with, he'd much rather do it all himself than make you do it, and he rarely accepts help unless he's basically dead on his feet and things can't wait, because he's stubborn like that. But if you were to cook for him and the kid? And he could watch you do it? And maybe you have some music playing in the background? And stars forbid there's a smile on your face? Din is convinced he has died at some point and this is heaven, and he doesn't deserve it at all but you're clearly an angel and for some reason you care for him and he really hopes reincarnation isn't a thing because he wants to stay here with you for the rest of eternity. It's dramatic and he will never say it out loud, not like that at least, but he's sentimental at heart.

On the topic of kids, do I even have to say it? Din is more than willing to expand your family, especially if you were to somewhat settle down, and as we've all seen, he's a great dad.

Poe Dameron:

-Poe would be an amazing husband. Affectionate to a fault, Poe is a very tactile person, which translates to him being quite physical in his demonstrations of love. If he can, he will always stand or sit close to you, feeling more at ease while sharing your space, and if you aren't uncomfortable, there would definitely be some hand-holding, or you could even sit in his lap honestly, he'd be happy about it.

He'd give you his arm when you are tired so that you can rest your weight on him, wrap an arm around your shoulders or waist when you're walking together, lift you up and down from high places, especially when it comes to you climbing into a ship, especially if it is his ship (Yes, he knows very well that you are more than capable of doing things like this on your own, doesn't mean he can't dedicate his life to making it easier tho); He would offer you his hand to hold onto if you're walking on unsteady ground so that you won't risk falling, he would surprise hug you so much you'd come to expect it anytime (but really, the surprise part was just an excuse so it's not like he's gonna stop), would hoist you over his shoulders if you were ever too short to see or reach something, and give you piggy back rides at absolutely any time.

-Poe is also a very passionate and very charming man. You could be married for a hundred years, and he would still treat you as if he was trying to win you over, every chance he has to court you, he's gonna take it. Which is exactly why he thrives when it comes to celebrations and anniversaries. Flowers find you anytime he has a chance to go pick/buy any, which is far less often than he'd like given his position in the Resistance, but travelling so much means that he has a good excuse, every planet warrants at least one new bouquet to gift you.

He will either leave them somewhere for you to find, like on your bedside table when you wake up, or give them to you personally, while trying to wait until things have calmed down and not immediately after he is done embracing you when he returns to base. Both options are accompanied by a note he has written while away, whether the note is going to be extremely lovesick or downright flirty depends heavily on his mood at the time, and if your cheeks are going to be flaming hot by the end of them... well, that depends on your willpower.

Speaking of which, you might start to associate the flowers to a promise of safe return, and picking up on it, Poe will gift you a beautiful, specially commissioned pendant that has both of your favourite flowers on it, that can immortalise without withering his promise to be by your side until his dying day.

Also anything interesting he might see while travelling will be brought back to you, from clothes to special types of local chocolate to anything that correlates to a hobby of yours. Or, truth be told, anything that reminds him of you, and that is a lot of things, but he might keep some of those for himself, just to have a piece of you to hold close to his heart when he can't hold you.

-Poe hates arguing; sure, playful teasing or loving banter are his bread and butter, but actual fights make him more sad than angry. Of course, disagreements happen, and Poe is more than willing to listen to your point of view, before swiftly changing the subject and letting it be water under the bridge. Honestly, maybe influenced by his parents relationship, Poe believes in a somewhat fairytale-like kind of love, and most of the time he does manage to make it a reality, other times... well, sometimes fights just can't be avoided, especially when it comes to someone as impulsive as he is. He always finds a way to make it up to you tho, so that's good.

-Poe proposed to you after a dangerous mission that almost ended terribly wrong, with either you or him getting out of it by the skin of your teeth. He'd have been keeping the ring he had intended to propose with for the past couple of months, right in the breast pocket of his pilot suit, where his heart is. He'd had a grand proposal in mind, one that would be romantic and memorable, but never found the right time.

That all went out the ship the moment he got slapped right in the face with the reminder of just how possible it is for either one of you to not come back for the night, to die, and just like that, leave behind your relationship and your love, and all that you have been together. He didn't even let his feet touch the ground after jumping out of his X-wing before he went down on his knees. He of all people should know, that no time is better then right now, with his heart in his hands.

Now, it might come as a little bit of a surprise, but Poe isn't a jealous man, and not only because he is almost always draped over you in one way or another, but because he is incredibly sure that the two of you are soulmates. On the same note, there's absolutely no reason for you to worry either, while he might have been a bit of a flirt before, it all stopped the moment he took interest in you. Also, everybody knows that you belong to each other, and not just because the entire Resistance was invited to your wedding, but because Poe's absolute favourite topic of conversation is you. And if you're wondering, BB-8 was both the ring bearer and the flower girl at your wedding.

Speaking of rings, being a pilot Poe can't wear his on his finger, not that he would have anyway, when it looks so perfect on the same necklace that holds his mother's ring, right in front of it, with your name carved on the inside on display.

-Poe, as I've said before, is pretty much a hopeless romantic, so domestic life is definitely right up his alley. He knows how to cook, and he does so rather well, and with as happy as he is to prepare you homemade candlelit dinners, he attunes himself to your taste so much he could very well be considered your personal five stars chef. With Poe’s positive attitude towards pretty much anything, chores are definitely not something to be dreaded in your house. Stopping to dance and sing at some point or another is basically a requirement, and pillow fights are far more common than they should be for high ranking members of the Resistance, but it's so fun and lighthearted that time will run by just as fast as if you were out on a date.

Poe would love nothing more than to start a family with you, but you're both still young, and he is in no rush. Ideally, the two of you won't have to wait too long until your victory will once again bring stability to the Galaxy, and you could settle down on a beautiful planet (Yavin 4 sounds great to him) where you'd have all the stability needed to raise your children.

3K notes · View notes

rinixo · 1 year

Text

someday

Din Djarin/Reader | 4.5k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, smut, oral sex, vaginal fingering, resolved sexual tension

After a wedding, desires they have kept at bay spill forth. There's no coming back from this.

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After three days of trekking through a misty, muddy forest, you were looking forward to a hot shower and a meal. Your feet hurt from stumbling down rocky hillsides and your back hurt from carrying your pack, now filled to the brim with artifacts from the ruins you had plundered.

You, Din, and Grogu had landed on this outer rim planet just about four days ago, seeking some ruins that your sources told you may be connected to the Jedi. Initially, the three of you were going to explore the ruins together but Din had been wrangled into helping a local settlement with a problem.

As you disembarked the ship days earlier, a young woman had hurried towards your small party, a frantic look on her face. She had explained that her fiancée had been recently kidnapped and was being held for ransom by a local crime lord, and she begged for assistance. The town had pooled together the ransom funds, but past experiences with the criminals had shown that they most likely would not have honored their terms. Thus, the woman’s plea for the armored Mandalorian to rescue her fiancée and deal with the crime lord and his goons once and for all.

Din had been hesitant at first, but at your insistence had agreed to help. You felt bad for the young woman – named Tineke, you later found out – and knew you wouldn’t have been able to alleviate your guilt if you or Din had refused. Privately, the two of you decided that Din would go after the criminals while you journeyed to the ruins to find what you could. Tineke had offered to keep an eye on Grogu while you were out.

According to your maps, the ruins were about a two-day hike from your current location, hidden in caves the Crest would not have been able to land near. Similarly, the crime lord’s hideout was two days in the opposite direction. The locals had told you that the ruins were considered haunted and were thus rarely ever approached by sentient beings. That suited you just fine – you were not particularly superstitious and knew the rumors would only help ensure a safe journey there and back. Din was less than enthused at the prospect of you wandering off on your own, but the promise of the ransom funds as a reward helped to sweeten the deal and convince him to let you go. The Crest needed some repairs, and fuel was expensive and hard to come by out here in the outer rim. Credits were always welcome.

Thankfully, you were right and your journey was uneventful. The most exciting thing that happened was you scaring yourself with your own shadow while in the caves and slipping in mud after a rainstorm. Now, as you approached the town, you were eager to clean up and see Din and Grogu. The thick forests and rocky cliffs had made your short-range communicators mostly ineffective, but you had remained in contact in what ways you could over the last few nights. Din had installed a mod onto your wrist comm that allowed the two of you to send pulses that vibrated when you touched them. The two of you had come up with a kind of secret code, where around the same time each night you would send an ‘I’m ok’ pulse and he would send one in return. If either of you failed to respond, it would signal something was wrong. Thankfully nothing had yet to go wrong, and it was nice to have a reminder that you weren’t alone during the dark nights.

You had expected Din would have finished his task and returned faster than you had – benefits of having a jetpack – and based on the excited chattering you could hear from the town center you guessed right. Before you had left the locals had skittered from place to place nervously, always looking over their shoulders. Now there were people out everywhere, and it looked like they were planning some kind of celebration. Lights and streamers hung from building to building, wrapped around trees, and you could smell something delicious cooking. It was quite the sight.

Squeezing through the crowd, you murmured apologies as you searched for Din or Tineke. You quickly found them both, along with Grogu and another young woman held close at Tineke’s side. All four of them turned towards you as you approached, and you smiled at Grogu’s pleased squeal at your arrival.

“You’re back!” Tineke exclaimed. She came forward and surprised you with a tight embrace. You looked over her shoulder at Din, who offered a half-shrug in response. Tineke then let you go and pulled the other young woman towards you.

“This is Galina, my beloved,” she introduced the two of you. Galina proffered a shy smile, hand clasped tightly in Tineke’s. “The bounty hunter rescued her and banished the crime lord and his people.”

“Banished?” You mused, mouth curving into a half-smile. Din sighed. You were enjoying the young woman’s excited if not somewhat exaggerated enthusiasm, even if he was not.

“Yes!” Tineke said, eyes shining. “And I’m so glad you’re back – we were just talking and I just insist that you stay for our wedding celebrations. It’s the least we can do to repay you.”

“Oh?” You raised a brow, intrigued. Behind the excited couple, you could see Din shake his head ‘no’. Attending any kind of celebration wasn’t exactly up his alley, but you were tired, and muddy, and it was getting late.

“I’m sure we can spare a few hours,” you agreed, and the two young women squealed with happiness. Din sighed again, and you cast him a reproachful look.

“Is there somewhere I can clean up?” You asked. Galina explained that her family was already setting aside rooms for your small party in thanks for her rescue and that you could bathe and change into clean clothes there before joining the celebration. She led you towards her home, and you stepped tiredly behind her, Din joining you shortly after.

“Really?” He asked, and you scoffed.

“Just for a few hours?” You asked. “I haven’t showered in three days and having a real ‘fresher sounds great. Plus free food, Din, you can’t argue with that.”

Another sigh was your response, and you knew you had won the argument. You pulled your pack to your front and opened it up to show him what you had found.

“Besides, it’ll take me a bit to decipher these,” you explained. Din took the pack from you and carefully looked over your findings.

“Very well,” he conceded.

An hour or so later, you were drying your hair as Galina’s sister – a heavily pregnant woman named Lin – laid out several outfit options for you. She chatted excitedly the whole time, about her husband, her sister’s wedding, and what color of gown would match your eyes best.

“How long have you and the Mandalorian been together?” Lin asked as you allowed her to help you wrap the simple yet elegant fabric around your body. You coughed awkwardly.

“Oh, no, we’re not together, not like that,” you corrected, and Lin threw you a knowing glance. “We’re…just friends. Traveling companions.”

Lin huffed out a short laugh. “Oh of course,” she replied. “My Nilo and I were just friends once, and well –“ She patted her swollen belly, and you tried not to flush at her insinuation.

“He has a creed,” you tried to explain, but she was quite sure of herself and merely cast you more knowing looks as you finished dressing. You decided not to argue with her, as the truth of your relationship with Din was complicated even for you.

There was something there, you’d bet on it. Though you had never seen his face, you could sometimes feel his stare on you. There were moments when the two of you were closer than just traveling companions would be, though he always seemed to pull back at the last moment. A gloved hand on your back that would creep just a little too low, a prolonged tap on your thigh to get your attention. Once, on the edge of sleep, you had just been barely aware of him standing near your cot before he pulled your blanket up to cover your bare shoulder, and the brush of his hand still made you shiver.

It was driving you wild, and yet you could not summon the bravery needed to breach the gap. You were so sure there was something there, but the fear of rejection stayed your own hand. Part of you knew that you’d never really know unless that gap was bridged, but out of respect and a desire to not make living together on the cramped ship awkward you always hesitated.

Lin declared you dressed and ready, bringing you out of your solemn thoughts. You looked at your reflection in the mirror, pleased with how the fabric clung to your curves. Patting your hair, Lin instructed you to go downstairs to join the celebrations.

You trounced down the stairs and made your way out into the cool evening air. All around you lights glittered, the air heavy with the smell of incense. It was quite the change from the fearful first impression the town had given three days ago.

You looked around for Din and found him off to the side of the main plaza. He was leaning up against the side of the building, arms crossed as he watched Grogu run around with some local children. As you approached, you appreciated the way his armor caught the light, noticing not for the first time that he cut quite the figure.

“He seems to be enjoying himself,” you said in greeting as you joined the bounty hunter. His helmet dipped in acknowledgment, and you stood in an easy silence as you watched Grogu play. Further ahead, the wedding party was settling under a large tree that marked the center of town. The sound of strings and bells started, and the crowd let out a series of cheers as music beckoned people out to dance.

The newly wedded couple were the first to venture out. Even from this distance you could see the adoration in how Tineke and Galina circled each other. Gradually others joined them in the dance, and you looked over toward Din.

“Do Mandalorians dance?” You asked, half-teasing.

Din shook his head. “My covert never did,” he said shortly. “Not much cause for celebration.”

You hmm’d in response. “That’s too bad.”

A pause, before Din spoke again. “Do you?”

“Do I dance?” You asked, and he nodded. You smiled and twirled in response. He turned his head slightly to watch you and the way the fabric swirled around your hips and legs.

“A little, and not well,” you laughed. “But it’s fun, when I do get the chance.”

His gaze lingered on you for half a breath longer before he tipped his head toward the crowd. “You should go. Have fun.”

You glanced in that direction, heart sinking just a little. “A-alright,” you replied. “See…see you later?”

He nodded again in response, and you let yourself wander into the crowd and sink into the rhythm of the sound and movement, and tried to forget your aching heart for a few moments.

Din’s gaze wandered between the child playing in the dirt and the girl dancing under the twinkling lights. Even in the crowd, he could pick her out easily – the way her hair looked in the warm light, the way her gown hugged her waist. All things he hoped to imprint into his mind.

He had thought you beautiful for a while, but you were truly breathtaking here, under the stars. He watched as you spun around, that easy grin on your lips. A local man – a boy, truly – came forward to take your hands and he could hear your laugh as you let him twirl you. He clenched his fists, not used to needing an outlet for the feelings in his chest. Jealousy, desire – all fairly foreign to him until you had entered his life.

Din almost wondered if you could tell how he felt towards you. He often found himself staring at you, studying the way your brow furled in confusion at some complicated equation. He had begun to memorize the way it felt to pass his hand along your back, to the curve of your waist, and the way you’d look up at him as he did so. He liked how the refresher smelled like your soap after you finished bathing.

This was the first time the two of you had been separated by different objectives, and the entire time you were apart he had fought the urge to constantly check in to make sure you were safe. He knew you were smart and resourceful, but the idea of you being hurt or lost made him almost sick with worry. Each night he would send you a pulse through your communicator, and his heart would pound each second it took to feel your response.

Seeing you again in town, safe and successful, had made a weight slide off his shoulders. If it were anyone else he would have insisted on not staying for this party, but he was becoming increasingly susceptible to your desires. A year ago he would have scoffed in the face of the Mando that would agree to attend a backwater town’s wedding celebration – but the Mando from a year ago didn’t know you.

“Having fun?” A cheery voice snapped him out of his reverie. The pregnant woman from earlier, he didn’t catch her name, had come out of the crowd to join him. She fanned herself with a paper fan, one hand caressing her stomach gently.

Din grunted in response, not feeling particularly chatty. The woman sent him a gleaming smile, and a tinge of mischief was in her eye.

“That’s a pretty girl you’ve got,” she pointed her fan in the direction of the crowd where you continued to dance. “Surprised you’d let other men get so close.”

“She’s not mine,” Din bit back. “She is free to dance with whomever she wishes.”

“She wishes it was you,” the woman challenged. She pursed her lips, a tone of authority in her voice.

“You rescued my sister, and gave us this night,” she continued. “So let me give you some advice in return, bounty hunter. If you don’t take the chance, someone else will. A beautiful young girl like that…you’ll run out of chances sooner or later.” With that, she snapped her fan shut and bid him farewell before wandering back into the crowd.

Din watched her go, throat dry, knowing she was right. He had deluded himself into feeling content with what he felt, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before you would move on and he’d be left with the ‘what-ifs.’

Hours later, you stumbled into the small but comfortable room set aside for you, cheeks flushed from the dancing and feasting. You hummed to yourself softly as you began to prepare for bed, the low light of a lamp casting dancing shadows across the walls.

You hadn’t seen Din since you had left to join the crowd earlier. You guessed he had dipped out early with Grogu, and while you were somewhat disappointed you understood. His room was directly across from yours, and you had knocked softly as you returned to let him know you were back as well. There had been no answer, and so you resigned yourself to rest until daylight. No doubt Din would want to be off as soon as dawn arrived.

The soft ‘click’ of the door opening and closing made you turn, and you saw Din standing just inside your doorway. His bulk took up most of the entrance, and you cast him a small frown.

“Oh, did I wake you?” You apologized, hands dropping from where they had started to undo the fabric of your gown. “I didn’t mean to. I’m fine.”

“You didn’t,” Din replied, and then was silent again. You raised a brow, confusion apparent on your face.

“Oh.” You waited for a few heartbeats for him to say why he was here. If he was just checking on you, he would have left by now, right?

“Do you…need something?” You asked, and in response, he stepped slowly towards you. You didn’t know why you felt so nervous. He stopped just in front of you, hands twitching nervously at his side.

“Your gown,” he stated. “It looks – you look good.” Din’s voice was soft, and so was the touch he gave you as he raised a gloved hand to brush over your shoulder. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“Din?” You whispered. His hand stayed hovering over your shoulder, and there was a tension in the air – between the two of you, and in the way he seemed to both want to pull away and move in closer.

Slowly, as if you were trying not to startle a wild animal, your hand come up to touch his. He watched as you gently pulled off his glove and set it to the side. Your bare skin brushed against his, and you smiled at the softness of it.

You pressed your palm against his and wondered at how neatly they fit together. You knew your hands were smaller than his, but seeing them like this honed in on the difference.

Gently, you folded his fingers down and brought them to your lips. You both heard and felt how Din’s voice hitched at the touch, and you closed your eyes as you directed his hand to your shoulder where the clasp of your gown was.

Understanding, Din began to undress you. He carefully unwound the fabric, a sort of measured hesitation in his movements. His hand drifted from one shoulder over your collarbone to the other and guided the cloth down over your breasts. Eyes still closed, you huffed out a small sigh as he grazed soft fingers over the peak of your breast, hardening nipples brushing over his palm as he let the gown drop to your hips.

You let yourself move closer as he pushed the fabric all the way down so that it pooled around your legs. Even through the helmet the feeling of him staring at your bare form burned deliciously. You fought the urge to cover yourself – not out of embarrassment, but from the pure blaze of attention you felt from him.

Taking his other hand, you pulled off the glove and brought it to the center of your chest. You held it there, looking up into the T of his visor, wondering if he could feel the way your heart pounded under your ribcage.

“What are you thinking?” Din asked you softly. You blinked up at him through your lashes.

“I wish I could kiss you,” you admitted, and heard his answering sigh and felt his fingers graze softly against your skin. He tilted his head forward and you followed so that your forehead and the front of his helmet met gently.

“I know,” he husked. Taking your hand, he tugged you towards the low bed in the corner of the room, turning out the light on the way. The room was plunged into darkness until your eyes settled a few moments later. You couldn’t see more than the vague outline of his figure as the two of you settled down onto the soft blankets.

He laid you out there, hands stroking softly up and down your body. You wondered if he could see you clearly through his helmet.

“Someday,” he promised.His hand stroked your cheek gently before it came down over your neck and collarbone. You relaxed into the sheets and let out a pleased sigh as his hand brushed over the plush weight of your breasts. He rolled your nipples in his fingers, and you arched sweetly into the tug of it. While one hand continued to tease you there, the other crested down your stomach, dipping briefly into your belly button before spreading wide over your lower pelvis.

“Open,” he commanded breathlessly, and you obeyed without question. Parting your trembling thighs, you keened softly as the hand not occupied with your breasts slid down to cup your center. Two fingers slid between your lips to find you wet and wanting, and they rolled over your clit slowly.

“Very good,” Din praised, and you smiled. His fingers dipped into the wetness dripping from your pussy, coming back up to slick over your slowly swelling clit. Biting your lip, you resisted the urge to roll your hips into his touch.

He stroked you methodically, purposefully. Wholly interested in your pleasure, he delighted in the way your breath left you in soft gasps. He spread your thighs a little wider and slid two fingers up into you so that you had no choice but to arch up and roll into it.

You scrunched up your face at the stretch of it paired with the firm pressure he was applying to your clit. Din grasped the leg closest to him and brought it to lay over his thigh so that you were spread even more, your hips lifted at an angle. He fucked you with his fingers and you reached out, grasping at what armor you could reach.

“Yes,” you groaned, and he answered you with a particularly rough push of his fingers. “Just-just there, please –“

“Anything for you,” he answered. “Anything you want, beautiful, wet, tight girl –“

His fingers curve, poking at that spot inside you that made you feel bottomless. You wanted more, wanted to feel your cunt stretch around him. You didn’t realize that your fevered thoughts were spilling out into nearly incoherent rambling until you heard him answering.

“I know, I know,” he placated, the hand not playing with your slit coming up to brush over your parted mouth. “I want it too, sweet girl, I want you so badly – you have no idea what you’re doing to me –“

You dart your tongue out to meet his fingers and your stomach coils at the sound that comes from him when you suck on them.

“Fuck me, Din,” you beg, and he groans.

“Not yet,” he crooned, hand not once letting up from its intense pace. “Someday, not yet, come on baby – “

You arch further as your stomach curls and your leg goes numb. You are on the precipice of orgasm, pleading with voice and body for Din to let you fall over the edge.

He obliges you, like he said he would, and murmurs filthy praise as you shake and clench on his hand. Your legs snap close before he forces them open again, the pad of his thumb rubbing over your puffy clit to prolong your release.

You lose your voice in the height of it and come crashing back down on waves of liquid heat. Your eyes flutter open, eyesight blurred, and you look down your body at where his large hand is still cupped over your aching cunt.

“Din,” you plead, and his head snaps from where it was focused on his hand to your face. You blink wetly at him, propping yourself up on your elbows.

He wasn’t going to. He was pleased enough with being able to touch you, feel you, and have you come undone at his hands. Maker, he could die happy having done that. But the way your eyes begged, blown dark and wide with pleasure, made that last rope of resistance snap.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and rolled so he was covering your body with his. You molded yourself up against his, rolling your hips to feel where his cock lay – hard and throbbing for you. Your hands came up to tug on his shoulders, and he dipped his head down next to your neck as he ground his hips into yours.

“L-let me touch you,” you begged. “Please –“ you pushed against his shoulders to roll him back over, switching places so that you were in between his thighs. His helmeted head leaned up to look at you, cock twitching as your shaking hands went to his belt.

You wasted no time in undoing the clasp and pulling down his trousers enough to pull his cock out. It was heavy and hot in your hands, and a throb of pleasure shot through you at the size of it, the thought of how well it would fill you up.

Someday, you echoed his earlier promise before dipping your head to lathe your tongue over him. Din groaned in response, head falling back to hit the mattress. His cock jumped in your hand and you hummed around him as you began to work to take him as deep into your mouth as you could.

You could feel how his thighs trembled. His cock leaked pre-spend, the salty taste of it coating your tongue as you ran it up and down his length.

“Fuck,” Din cried hoarsely. The number of times he had imagined your lips around his cock failed to compare to the feeling of you wet and hot between his legs. He wanted to taste you in turn, and told you so through gritted teeth.

You moaned at his words, the vibration of it adding to the man’s cresting pleasure. One hand came down to tangle at your hair, tugging and stroking in time with your own pace. The other he used to prop himself up on one elbow – he wanted to see you there, between his thighs, taking his cock in your mouth.

“Maker you look so fucking good,” he rasped. “Fuck, gonna come down your throat, pretty girl – fuck –

Your hands squeezed him at his base as you lowered your mouth further, spittle dripping out from where your lips were wrapped around him. The sound of it was filthy – his groans, your choked moans around his length, the slick of your hand stroking him hard and fast.

His hips twitched as he edged closer – not quite fucking your face, but enough to signal his desperation. You loved the way his hands tightened on your scalp, loved the way he was coming undone underneath you.

Din pulsed in your mouth, and you hollowed your cheeks to suck once more before he husked out a series of curses, coming down your throat. His hips bucking, his abdomen tight as he groaned all the way through it. You swallowed it all, hand and mouth not leaving him until you lapped up the last of his spend

You looked up at him. His hand was still your hair, your lips and chin soaked from your own spit and his release. Both of you were panting – soft gasps in the cool air of the dark room

He rasped your name, hand coming down from your scalp to trace the curve of your cheekbone. You closed your eyes and leaned into it, climbing up his body to lay against him, skin prickling where it touched cold beskar. He stroked your head and face as you laid a flushed cheek against his chest. His other hand stroked down your bare back, tracing imperceptible patterns.

The dam had been breached. Both of you were satisfied, but both wanted more.

“Someday,” he murmured again as if he could read your mind. “I promise.”

a/n: part 2??... perhaps（´∀`)

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin smut #mando smut #mandalorian smut #the mandalorian #din djarin #din x reader

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impala-dreamer · 3 months

Text

Wonderstruck

A Magical Short Story

~ Attending a wedding alone is rarely fun. Add to it a bunch of people you don't know all hidden behind masks, things can get a little shaky. But sometimes, if you're lucky, magic can happen...~

Henry Cavill x F!Reader

3,160 Words

Warnings: Nothing but romance and magic and fluff and mystery!

A/N: Yes, it's me. No, I have not been kidnapped. This was written in part for my personal goal of branching out a bit, but moreover as a Valentine's gift for @mariekoukie6661 and @kittenofdoomage <3

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

Her dress was sleek and as dark as midnight; her heels were high and deadly. Her lips dripped with crimson; a silver mask hid beautifully sad and strikingly painted eyes.

She kept to the edges of the ballroom, ducking behind round tables clad in expensive linens and gold inlaid china, skirting billowing gowns as they spun on the dancefloor. She slipped in and out of the shadows with a slowly emptying champagne glass pinched delicately between two fingers.

Despite her annoyance in being there, she could not deny the beauty of the night. The massive room was decorated in glamorous gold and pearl accents. Heavy velvet curtains hung over the windows on each wall, letting in a glimpse of the moonlit garden outside. The floors were marble that had been polished to perfection, and a warm candlelight glow illuminated the room.

It felt as if she’d stepped into a fairy tale.

A fairy tale about a sad girl watching the party from afar, alone but for the bubbles in her glass.

Which, sadly, were now gone.

Y/N sighed heavily and looked across the dancefloor at the long bar that stretched across the back wall of the ballroom. A hundred guests in suits and gowns, feathers and masks, twirled in front of her, blocking the path. Silently, she weighed the pain of entering the waltzing throng over going another moment without a healthy buzz in her head. She took a breath. She took a step.

Her heels clicked rhythmically as she laid her course for the bar. She kept her eyes on the goal, carefully maneuvering through the dancing couples, wondering if they’d all been to some class she hadn’t been invited to. All their steps seemed identical; all the women spun with the same flourish. She shook her head. Life should never be so choreographed.

After nearly tripping over a dragging tail of taffeta, Y/N finally made it to the bar and braced herself on the top. As she caught her breath, a deep but soft laugh hit her ear.

She turned toward the sound and spied a large man leaning on the bar a few feet away. He turned as she did, leaning one elbow on the bartop and kicking a long leg over the other. His tuxedo was immaculate and perfectly tailored; his shoes shined like the stones below. He wore a mask of black with silver adornment, and two crisp blue eyes scanned her form from beneath. She could feel them sneak down her body, lingering a bit in the deep curve of her waist and at the globe of her ass.

She cleared her throat, drawing his eyes up to hers.

“Something funny, Slick?” she asked, lips pursed in clear annoyance.

The man grinned. His lips were full and pink beneath a thin scruff of a beard.

“I liked your dance,” he said in reply.

She was startled by his accent - elegant and somehow too perfectly English, as if he were pretending to be from across the Atlantic. She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes at him, trying to figure him out.

It was nearly impossible. The masks were a problem.

Y/N rolled her eyes. She didn’t know why, but she felt that he needed to work a little harder to get her attention. Maybe she was bored, maybe the shock of his voice had her aflutter. Whatever it was, she turned up the sass.

“Yeah, well, I was a ballerina in a past life.”

Again, he laughed. A little louder, a little more enticing.

“I can see that. Prima ballerinas often trip over themselves and end up slamming into tables.”

She bit back a laugh and turned back to meet his gaze. “We take a special class for that.”

The man cocked his head towards her champagne flute. “And with an empty glass, no less.”

“What can I say, I’m very good at my job.”

Slowly, he pushed himself up from the bar and took a step closer. “May I buy you another?”

Her eyes slid up from his shoes to the loose, curly mop of black hair atop his head. He was tall and broad, and looked as solid as a statue. Her pulse quickened.

“I’m pretty sure it’s free,” she teased.

He stopped a foot from her side. “Still…” With a quick snap of his fingers, he called for the bartender and ordered them both another round.

“A dirty martini, Mr. Bond?” She smiled at his order.

“Shaken, not stirred,” he replied, lifting his glass.

His smile was as intoxicating as the golden liquid in her glass and butterflies swirled in her stomach.

Each took a sip, swallowing slowly with their eyes locked. The blue crashed over her and Y/N lost herself in the sparkle of his smiling gaze.

Worried that she was staring too hard, she tore herself away and let out a hard breath.

“So… how do you know the bride?” she asked, trying to pry his identity free.

He licked a drop of vodka from his lip. “I don’t.”

She laughed gently. “Wedding crasher, huh?” She leaned closer, dropped her voice to a whisper. “Don’t worry, I won’t turn you in.”

He moved in even closer. A warm scent pulsed off of him, flooding her senses with leather and vanilla and something she couldn’t place. Something spicy that made her mouth water so much she forgot that she was supposed to be playing hard to get.

“That’s kind of you,” he whispered. “I don’t think Charlie will press charges though.”

She smiled. “Ah, you’re on the groom’s side.”

“And you?”

His eyes fell to her lips and Y/N’s cheeks burned.

“I, uh… I work with Chloe, the- the bride.”

He nodded and took a sip of his drink. “Charlie and Chloe,” he said with a light laugh. “So many Cs.”

He was too cool, too confident yet sweet. She almost hated him.

“Who are you?” she asked, confused and irked. She had not come to the wedding to meet anyone, let alone a gorgeous, blue-eyed Brit, who may or may not actually be British.

Another slow sip guided her eyes back to his lips and she wondered if he tasted as good as he smelled.

“Henry,” he said softly.

She laughed. “Of course you are.”

“Why’s that funny?”

“Because of course your name is Henry. With your perfect accent and your sexy tuxedo…”

He stood up, suddenly towering over her, and tipped his head, eyes swiping over her again.

“And what about you? You’ve got to be called Celeste or Audrey or something classic and elegant.”

Y/N drained the rest of the champagne at the bottom of her glass and stood to face him properly. “Well, Prince Charming, why don’t you just call me Cinderella.”

Henry reached for her hand and she gave it jokingly.

His kiss was no joke, landing softly on her skin and making the rest of her shiver. She held her breath and nearly fainted when he looked up.

“Pleased to meet you, Cinderella.”

Her head swam a bit and she wondered if that was what swooning was.

“Charmed,” she said with a dreamy smile.

He held her gaze, swept a warm thumb over her knuckles. His touch was like fire and she wanted to run. Away from him or into his arms - she couldn’t decide. All she knew was that there was magic in the air and she could not seem to tear herself away from the mystery of his face. His eyes were tragically beautiful, as if she was lost at sea on a broken raft, thirsting and alone, but she had the comfort of the blue waves to keep her safe. She thought herself insane. He was just a man in a mask at a fancy wedding. Just a tall, impossibly fit, perfectly dressed man at a masquerade ball. A deliciously gorgeous man who smelled like drinking in front of a roaring fire in a cozy library filled with old books in some ancient castle in Scotland. A man who was still holding her hand and her gaze, stealing too many moments and breaths from her day.

Y/N shook herself and pulled her hand from his.

“I should… go…” She turned toward the room. She had to get away, had to free herself from the captivating stranger and return to ignoring her coworkers and the bride’s overly friendly family. “It was nice to meet you, Henry.”

His frown nearly cracked the earth beneath her feet.

“Don’t leave just yet,” he pleaded. “I… Well, I don’t really know anyone here and you’re…”

She looked back over her shoulder as he hesitated. “Yes?”

He blushed and sought comfort in his shoes. Such a beautiful sight: a strong, confident man instantly melting into shyness.

Blue eyes looked up. “Beautiful and enchanting and… I was hoping that we could dance.”

She nearly fell over, knocked out by his voice and charm. A quick breath steeled her nerves. “Sadly, I cannot.”

He stood up fully but somehow still seemed small. “Dance with me?”

“Dance at all,” she corrected.

He laughed. “Well, how about another drink and some conversation?”

With a sigh, Y/N looked back at the crowd, into the sea of indistinguishable masks and unfamiliar forms. Giving in, she nodded politely and spun around to the bar.

They ordered another round and took up residence at the end of the counter, half hidden in shadow, invisible to the other party-goers. Music soared above their heads but they could barely hear it, so engrossed in each other’s stories.

They spoke of simple things- movies they’d loved as children and that well-worn paperbacks were still tucked into their bookcases. She asked him about home and he talked about the London traffic and how he preferred to stay around the house on rainy days playing games on his PC. He poked her about work and she glossed over her job, insisting that they keep the conversation light and free from day-to-day struggles. They drank and laughed and fell even deeper into each other’s gaze.

It was strange to have a conversation with a stranger in a mask. She knew that he was handsome- his eyes were brilliant, his lips perfectly plump. His jaw was tight and his neck was thick. He was big and sturdy, yet gentle and bashful. Though most of his face was hidden, she knew he was perfect.

Perhaps a little too perfect.

But as the alcohol flowed and the night wore on, Y/N couldn’t find a reason anymore to run. The night had cast a spell around them and there was no escape. There was magic in the gilded accents around the room, in the symphony of violins that danced above their heads, in their true smiles and tentative touches.

Even if he wasn’t perfect, she thought, the moment was.

And the moment was suddenly broken.

A firm hand on her wrist dragged Y/N from her place at the bar and onto the dancefloor. The bride would not be ignored and refused to take no for an answer. Pained by the intrusion and the demand, Y/N reluctantly took Chloe’s hands and twirled her around. The skirt of the massive wedding dress billowed like a cloud around Chloe’s small frame and Y/N laughed as she was nearly caught up in the fabric.

Heart racing and smile wide, she turned back to Henry but was shocked to find his place empty. Their glasses sat abandoned on the bar and Prince Charming was nowhere to be found. She felt a tug in her chest and a dampness behind her eyes.

Before she could shrug it off as just a random encounter and push his blue eyes from her mind, a tap on the shoulder made her gasp.

She spun on the spot and found him there with a sweet smile and open arms.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, dipping into half a bow.

Excitement rushed through her and Y/N bit her lip. “I told you, I’m not a good dancer.”

Unwilling to let her back away, Henry scooped her up and held her close, one hand capturing hers and the other pressing gently into the small of her back. He leaned in and teased his lips at her ear.

“Then let me lead…”

His fingers pulsed against her back, guiding her to move against him. They turned a few times until she was dizzy in his arms, laughing as he whispered into her ear:

“Left… right… back… you’ve got it…”

His breath on her skin was like a gust of summer air, warm and delicious, flooding her body with calm.

“See? You’re not too bad at this.”

Y/N looked up into his eyes and felt the world fade away. They rose up together off of the dancefloor, floating gently above the other guests, impossibly alone in the crowd. She knew she was drunk, knew she’d pay for it in the morning, but she didn’t really care. She didn’t care that her friends were watching, probably whispering about the mysterious man she was dancing with. She didn’t care that she’d twice stepped on his toes or that there was no way she could hide the fact that being so close to him wasn’t turning her into a melted, lustful shell of what she usually was.

The music crescendoed and Y/N held her breath. Henry dipped his chin, blue eyes locked on her hers. The world slowed down, the seconds stretched on forever. She closed her eyes, savored his exhale against her lips. His hand slid gently up her back, fingers wove through her hair. She felt her legs grow weak, her stomach tensed, her heart skipped. He took a breath.

The band stopped short and Y/N startled as the crowd shited. The moment was gone, ripped away once more by the party swelling around them.

A rush of silk; the click of hundreds of heels. Cheers rose throughout the room as a giant cake was rolled out onto the dancefloor. It towered up to the ceiling with beautiful rows of white creme roses and pearls strategically placed to make the fondant glow in the warm light trickling down from the chandelier above.

As the guests closed in, Y/N was pulled out of Henry’s arms and her heart ached as he once again was out of her sight.

Black suits swarmed around her, heavy gowns brushed against her legs. Voices rang loud. Bodies closed in on all sides.

Breathless, she spun, searching for an exit, for a way to push through the throng.

A hand appeared and reached for her. She clasped his fingers and Henry raced toward the big doors to their left, pulling her free of the mob.

They tumbled out into the cool air and found relief as the doors closed behind them, blocking the music and the excitement, leaving them alone in the night.

The garden was dark but magically aglow with warm, golden light. Fairy lights twinkled around them, strung from bushes and topiaries, highlighting a stone path. Beyond, a labyrinth of tall evergreen waited for curious souls to venture inside, daring the branches to keep them from reaching the end.

Wonderstruck by the evening- the dramatic escape, the music, the champagne and Henry’s crystalline eyes- she stumbled. One single step turned her ankle and the deadly heels she never wore took her down.

Her gasp tore through the garden, but Henry was there to catch her fall. She swung in his strong arms and her fear turned to laughter.

“This is just absurd!” she said, steadying herself with a palm over his chest.

Henry was calm and stable, easily holding her upright. “What’s that?”

“I mean… You literally just swept me off of my feet.” She shook her head and with a blushing smile, pushed away. “This is getting silly.”

Away from his grasp, she teetered again and Henry took her hand before disaster could strike.

“Why don’t you sit down for a moment,” he suggested, nodding towards a stone bench not far away. “Those shoes are dangerous.”

“You have no idea.”

She let him help her to the bench and watched in awe as he fell to one knee. Like an actual Prince Charming, he took Cinderella’s ankle in his hands and gently ran his fingers over the thin strap holding the shoe in place.

“You’re not swollen,” he reported. “That’s good.”

When he looked up, concern fading from his eyes, she gave up trying to suppress the enchantment of the night and took a deep breath.

Hands cupped around his face, she leaned in and finally met his lips.

Startled but delighted, Henry pushed up to meet her, taking her once more in his strong arms and kissing her properly.

Tiny lights flickered in the breeze, soft music seeped out into the garden, and Prince Charming and Cinderella found each other in the dark. Lips hungry and hands wild; heat mixing between them like a budding fire.

When the clock struck twelve, it chimed loudly and they broke apart, laughing.

“Seems about right,” she joked, looking towards the wedding. “Party ends at midnight.”

Henry dragged a thick finger over her collarbone. “Does that mean you’ll turn into a pumpkin and disappear?”

She laughed softly. “I don’t know when the last time you read Cinderella was, but… no.”

He licked her taste from his lip. “So you don’t need to go then?”

Her smile fell. “I do…”

“You could stay…” He dipped his chin and looked up through the mask, blue eyes dark in the light. “We could… find a spot-”

Y/N shook her head and reached for his hand. “I can’t, I’m sorry. I have to be back in the city tomorrow for work.” She lifted his fingers to her lips and left him with a final kiss.

Henry sighed. “Pity.”

She nodded and gathered her strength to stand and do what she should have done hours ago- run. Except this time, she was certain she meant it to be into his arms. Only this time, she couldn’t.

“I’m sorry…”

Quickly, she turned, carefully stepping back onto the stone path and away from the mystery man with his intoxicating voice and perfectly engrossing kiss.

He stood and called to her, desperate for one more look at his Cinderella.

“Wait-”

She paused, hand on the big glass door, heart in her throat. “Yes?”

“Don’t I even get to know your real name?”

She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “It’s Y/N.”

Henry bowed his head in thanks and when he came up, the mask came off, slowly revealing a face she’d only imagined in her dreams.

He blushed at her shocked stare and laughed gently.

“It was nice to meet you, Y/N.”

She sighed, blissful and lost in a dream that she prayed would last the rest of her life.

“You too…”

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@akshi8278 @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @the-wounded-healer05

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #fluff #romance #one shot #maybe more if it goes well i have ideas

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unashamedly-enthusiastic · 3 months

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How did you end up with a wedding dress with pockets??

Here's what happened:

I decided that a dress is a dress and I am wearing it once, I am going to the discount dress shop and buying one that is half decent. bish bash bosh maximum £500

Went to three different outlets and tried on 50+ dresses and not one of them fit the criteria of "wouldn't mind being photographed in this"

Decided go to an actual bridal shop that is not wildly expensive to see 'is it all dresses and I should lower my standards?' or 'there is an actual reason these cost more'

Go in and select 5 lacey, art deco, heavily beaded slim fit fishtail dresses, the kind my Pinterest board is filled with

My mother selects what can only be described as a behemoth of unembellished satin. It is double the total fabric of the 5 dresses I am holding.

I thought she was holding it up as a joke, but she goes "I think it will really behoof the wearer" BEHOOF

There is no space in the changing room with this monster in there so I decided to try it on first so the immediate rejection will clear up much needed spanx wiggling-into space.

Unfortunately, and to my mothers eternal smugness, I am behoofed.

It has the most ridiculously pleated puffy waistline that should not work, and i quip to the seamstress that they "could probably hide pockets in there, can they add pockets? I've always loved a dress with pockets"

And she only hears the last part and goes "ah yes and now you have them in your wedding dress!"

And I go ????!?

And she very politely fishes in the 400 folds to find the in seam hidden pockets

I run to the changing room to test they do indeed hold my full phone and put a deposit on it immediately

My mother was so smug she bought the dress.

#I have never lived this down #She has the worst fashion sense #And is colourblind #And YET she choose the perfect wedding dress #Long post #I found my ask box!#Yesterday was our 7yr anniversary

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cod-dump · 11 months

Text

They laid there, silent as the enemy searched the building for them. They were outnumbered, out gunned-- Soap always tried to stay optimistic, but this wasn't looking good for them. Especially not for Ghost. He took a couple bullets, protecting Soap. Now they were hidden in a old storage room, laying in a narrow space between boxes.

Ghost kept saying he was fine, but Soap couldn't focus on anything other than the pain in the man's voice when he said that. Soap was pressed against the wall between the boxes, Ghost in front of him. Soap knew Ghost did that so he could continue protecting him, continue to take anymore bullets for Soap.

"Johnny."

Soap snapped at attention, he hated how strain Ghost's voice sounded. How out breath he was.

"If we get out of this..."

"When, Si. When we get out of this."

Ghost laughs, it sounded painful, "When we get out of this... Let's get married."

Soap stares at the back of Ghost's head, "What?"

"You heard me, Johnny. This is the last close call. I want to marry you before something happens to one of us."

Soap crawls forward, pressing against Ghost's back, "We're going to have a big, expensive wedding. A huge cake, my whole family will be there, all of 141--"

Ghost leans back against him, hearing footsteps in the hall outside of the room they were hiding in.

"Whatever you want, Johnny, we'll have."

#call of duty #cod mwii #modern warfare ii #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #drabble

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my-cherie · 10 months

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𝗗𝗢𝗘𝗦 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗠𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗪♡

pairing ꒱modern! step-dad! pantalone x male reader warnings ꒱ step relationships (though reader doesn't know it), cheating on pantalone's part, a few pet names (darling, sweetness, pet), grinding, dirty talk, praise. wc ꒱ 600+ thoughts ꒱ small genshin drabble bc pantalone doesn't get nearly as much appreciation as he deserves, this man is HOT, y'all. inspired by the abba song with the same name. NOT BETA READ.

You hadn’t seen your mom in a long time. Ever since you moved away for college she barely contacted you, so to say you were baffled when her wedding invite came in would be the century’s understatement. Putting on your best suit, you messed with your hair a little more and tried your best to straighten your tie, before giving up and just deciding to go like this. Not like you were trying to impress anyone.

While you were on the way to the ceremony, you checked the invite again. This was maybe your mom’s third husband ever since your dad left? You weren’t sure, but maybe this “Pantalone” (as you came to know his name from the invite) would be nicer than your other step-fathers.

… The place was fancy. You almost wish you hadn’t come, because the venue in itself already seemed straight out of an expensive magazine, with the full-on white decorations, roses and tulips and baby’s breath everywhere and a ton of seats in the middle of a cute, meadow-like wedding venue and now you were sure that this Pantalone guy was at least filthy rich, because your family sure as hell didn’t have the money for this place, even with the money your mom managed to get from her past failed relationships.

You stumble amidst all the guests, making small talk with some cousins, aunts and uncles, before finally settling into the back of the garden, nursing a glass of white wine that you were sure cost more than your apartment. Trying to look for anyone else you knew besides the few relatives you had talked to, you were disappointed to see only strangers.

Fuck, was your mom gonna take too long to come out?

“Hello,” you startled, who— “do you mind if I wait here as well?

Oh, that’s a very pretty man.

He’s wearing probably the most expensive suit you’ve ever seen, with a beautiful blue tie, silver glasses and— Is that a fucking Armani suit?

“Sure dude, uh,” you shift under his attention, distractedly biting the inside of your mouth, scrambling for a common topic you could talk to this stranger about, “do you know the groom?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” He chuckles in amusement and you realize suddenly that he seemed a bit... bored. He was just observing everyone and not moving to greet any of the people in the venue, even though you can see that quite a few people seemed to wave and smile at him.

The unknown man seemed to not want to socialize with anyone else, besides you, that is.

You mess with your tie again, trying to distract yourself from the beautiful, beautiful man besides you. Your tie just never seems to sit correctly on your suits, no matter how many times you've watched those tutorials on Youtube about how to do the perfect tie.

“Do you need some help there?” The man — fuck you forgot to ask his name — asks, clearly seeing you struggle.

“Please, if you could.” You smile at him, embarrassed.

He comes closer, slowly redoing your tie for you, and you stare at his face meanwhile.

Without meaning to, your eyes are attracted to his lips and you bite your own again, thinking about how they look very much kissable. When you look up, he’s already looking directly at you, a smirk playing at his lips and his eyes muddled with arousal.

So you weren’t the only one to feel the pull of attraction between you two then, good. You weren’t even enjoying the wedding anyway.

(The man kisses hard, you dimly register, your body hidden away from view by the way he’s holding you, kissing you breathless.

His knees are slowly grinding your dick and fuck if it doesn’t feel good, making you moan each time he does it, holding his hair tighter.

“Do you like it like that, darling? Does it feel good?” He talks dirty like he’s made for it and when you don’t answer, he pulls away the tiniest bit. “Answer me.”

And you have to gasp for breath, he has already made you into such a mess in a few seconds, it’s humiliating, but not enough for you to not beg him.

“Yes! Yes, it feels amazing! Please, please—“ You don’t know his name, god damn it all. He seems to notice your predicament, because he snickers a bit.

“The name’s Pantalone, sweetness.”

You give him your name as well, completely forgetting that your mom’s soon-to-be-husband has the same name as the stranger ravaging you. Even though it’s a very clearly unique name, your brain has been completely taken by his ministrations, hazy and distracted.

“Cute,” he says, before going back to kissing you to oblivion and starting to grind against your cock with his own, clearly hard and wanting to continue just as much.

“I’m going to enjoy ruining you, pet.”)

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eternalsams · 1 year

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Paint It Black ⇴ J.Seresin

pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader

summary: you didn’t want to get married, you didn’t need a ring to prove your love for your man. But when the circumstances want you to, you’re forced to tie the knot with Jake to stay with him. And you’re scared your soon-to-be-husband won’t agree with your only request.

warnings: none, only pure fluff

word count: 1 147

a/n: english isn’t my mother tongue, please take it into your consideration :)

masterlist

“Baby, you’re sure?” Jake frowns.

“Yes, Jake, I want it like that. But I know you like classic things so if you don’t want to, then we don’t do it. I don’t want you to feel forced to do it.”

“I'm not feeling forced to do anything with you, baby. I just know that this is big, even for us.” He tries to give you a reassuring smile.

“We’re known for doing big.” You give him a quick look.

“Then, let’s go. We’re doing it.”

The wet noise echoes in the room, making you wince.

“Oh my God, we’re doing it.” Jake groans.

The white fabric of your weeding dress drowning in the black dyed water. You drop it entirely into the hot water and takes a metal spoon to stir everything. When you started dating Jake five years ago, you didn’t want to get married, that wasn’t in your plans. Not that you didn’t love Jake, you loved him with your entire being and told him the three little words for your 3 month anniversary. You talked about it with him and first he tried to convince you that eventually you’d change your mind but after a long conversation, he stopped trying and accepted the fact that you didn’t want to get married.

You’ve been happy together for five years, until Admiral Simpson announced you that you had been deployed. In more than five years, you’d stayed at San Diego and it was great. You met lots of friends and, even better, you met the love of your life. Simpson gave you two weeks to pack your things and leave the west coast. When you told Jake about your deployment, he had been silent for multiple minutes and left the room to go to your shared bedroom. You feared he would call it quit and leave you alone after five years together. But he didn’t. He came back with a tiny bag in his hands. He gave it to you and sat down on the couch in front of you, waiting for you to open it. You rapidly looked up at him through your lashes and started undoing the knot. A silver ring fell in the palm of your hand and you looked up at Jake.

“What’s this?” You asked.

“I don’t want to stay away from you. I don’t like distance and I’m pretty sure a long-distance relationship with you will drive me crazy and you’ll have to check me into a mental hospital.”

“Jake...” You stared at the beautiful ring in your hand.

“I know what you think of marriage and I wouldn’t ask you that if there was another solution but-”

“Okay, let’s do it. Let’s get married.” You nodded your head and slipped the ring on your finger.

Jake jumped from the couch to take you in his arms and hold you as close as possible. You couldn’t contain the giggles as he peppered your face with kisses.

“Now the most important question. Since when do you have that ring hidden in our room, Mr Seresin?” You took his face between your hands.

So here you are, watching the water dye the wedding dress your mother got you two days ago. You told Jake about your desire to get married in black and, first, he didn’t agree. He came from a very religious family and when you told him you wanted a black dress, the only thing he saw was a funeral. The wedding was supposed to be white. But you eventually convinced him by showing him gorgeous black wedding dresses on pinterest and he couldn’t wait and see you in yours. Second obstacle; the budget. When you saw how expensive black wedding dresses were, you almost had a heart attack. You could never gather that amount of money when the wedding was in a week. So you decided to get a white one and take the risk to dye it. The wedding was in five days and you couldn’t afford for another dress. Even if Jake told you he would get you ten more dresses if you asked him, you didn’t want him to spent his money because of your mistake.

“And now we wait.” You say as Jake wraps his arm around your shoulders.

Today was the wedding day and you and Jake haven’t told anybody about your dress. You knew your friends wouldn’t care less if your dress was white, black or even rainbow colored. But you knew your and Jake’s families would have a hard time accepting your choice. But it wasn’t their wedding, it was yours. They should be glad you accepted to get married and don’t judge your tastes. So you were in the small room, smoothing the lace parts of your dress. It’s was just beautiful. The black dyeing worked perfectly and even if you had to dip it twice, the results were better than what you had expected. Jake only saw the dress when you got it out of the water the first time, the time it turned out to be more blue-ish than black. You asked him to trust you and he did. He didn’t ask any more questions and trusted you when you told him the second dyeing was perfect.

Phoenix is just behind you and can’t stop taking pictures on her phone to send it to Rooster who’s with Jake. Of course, Bradley doesn’t show the pictures to your fiancé, he only teases him by saying you look more beautiful than ever and Jake swears to God that if his wingman doesn’t shut up, he’s gonna rip his tongue out and make him eat it. Only your close friends and your families have been invited to the wedding due to the early convening and it was clearly enough for the both of you.

When the time of you walking down the aisle finally come, Jake can’t stay still, his feet refuse to stop taping against the tile on the floor of the small church you found. His gaze is locked on his cufflinks and when the music you chose for your entrance starts to play, he immediately looks up at the doors. They open and you appear. More magnificent than ever, just like Bradshaw has said. He is so mesmerized by your beauty that he can’t see your and his families whispering in the rows, either complimenting your dress or finding it completely out of place. But neither of you care about what the others think. How could he ever think black was a funeral color? You look ravishing in your dress and he already know the pictures are going to be unforgettable. You look like one of those characters straight out of a Tim Burton movie. You were his lovely and splendid bride. You reach him and take the hand he hold out to you.

“You look... perfect.” He breathes out with a shy smile.

“Told you it was a good idea.”

“The best idea ever.” He says as he kisses your knuckles.

#hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #top gun #top gun: maverick #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader

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arinbelle · 7 days

Text

Moments V

A/N: I’ve been working on this fic for over a year and I’m so happy it’s done. I really wanted this conversation to happen right after the Blood Rite or even after Nyx’s birth but alas. So anyways, here we are.

@nestaarcheronweek

Moments Masterlist

~*~

Part V: Shackled

Nesta surveyed the cerulean gown, fingers gliding over the satin before turning away. It was a silent rejection, one of many, and he moved out of the way as the tailor pursed her lips but replaced it with a red one.

Cassian had come with her to help her pick out a dress for her sisters and Emerie to wear at their mating ceremony, but after the tenth one he was beginning to feel antsy. It wasn’t that he minded the small boutique, hidden amongst stores selling sweet caramels and cakes, or fresh bread and spiced meats. He’d been here before, rather, he’d been wrangled over with Mor and Amren, even with Azriel to find gifts for the females he never brought to meet them.

It was Nesta’s neither here nor there look on her face that had him apprehensive. She’d been deemed fully healed and back at her full strength three days after the Blood Rite and so preparations for their Mating Ceremony had taken over immediately. She’d doled out the responsibilities the night before; Mor on decorations from whatever colors and schemes Nesta already had in mind, Elain and Feyre on the guest list, Azriel to set up security parameters, and Amren to confirm with all the vendors they bought from. Rhys was of course the master fund for all expenses, to which Nesta had agreed to with a sly smirk.

Yet today, their first day out together since everything had been settled, to find dresses and taste cakes, was proving to be difficult. If it had been a case of true dislike, or perhaps indecision, Cassian wouldn’t have minded. But Nesta had never been an indecisive person- she knew what she preferred and it never took her long to get what she had in mind. So he knew something was wrong when she’d given her silent or quiet rejections to the various cakes and dresses and flower assortments.

“That’s alright,” he finally decided to cut in, before the boutique owner began laying out another collection of dresses. “We’ll come back another day. Thank you for your time today.”

The boutique owner didn’t seem to mind, likely happy to be rid of them, and he bade her another farewell while ushering Nesta out.

“We weren’t done,” Nesta said when they were finally a few paces away from the shop. “I need to get things done today if the ceremony is in a few days.” A risky timeline for a wedding ceremony, let alone a mating one that was as extravagant as they’d planned it to be. But he ignored that.

She had pulled herself out of his grip, crossing her arms in the middle of the cobblestone street, staring him down with that familiar fire. He’d missed it these past few days but had attributed it to exhaustion from the Rite or nerves from what she’d endured. And he’d stayed silent about it too. Perhaps stupidly, perhaps warily, but he’d kept quiet, even when the dejected look on her face seemed to be worsening with each passing day.

“We’re not getting anywhere right now. How about we take a break and come back another day, Nes?”

She didn’t move so he reached out his hand, waiting. Always waiting. Something was wrong but she’d speak when it was time. Until then, he was fine to walk with her in silence for however long she needed.

A few breaths passed but she finally loosened her stance, moving closer before grabbing his hand. He pulled her in tight, wrapping an arm around her waist before moving them down the street. She allowed it and he pressed a kiss to her crown before ushering them towards a juice stall with a long line.

She looked up at him, a small smile gracing her beautiful face. He traced the curve of her lips, the slope of her nose with his eyes, taking in the beauty. He might have been staring too long as a lovely blush colored Nesta’s cheeks and she shoved his face away.

“Stop that,” she snapped, but there was no bite to it.

“Never,” he promised, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheeks before changing to another line that was selling something that smelled tempting each time the wind blew past it.

”If you were hungry you could have just said that,” she huffed, but it was all amusement now.

He thought about it, taking a few steps forward as another order completed ahead of them.

“Fine, yes, I did want to eat,” he admitted, ignoring the smirk she sent his way. “But I had us leave because it wasn't getting anywhere. You didn’t want to be there so why suffer through it.”

She stiffened in his hold and he knew he’d probably struck a chord. That hadn’t been his intention, but he cursed himself silently. Sometimes his honesty got him into more trouble than he asked for.

They were silent for the rest of the line with Nesta only speaking to the vendor and ordering fried potatoes with cheese and a mint lemonade.

”No, I don’t want fish, thank you,” she spoke quickly, cutting her eyes at him as he made to speak. She rolled her eyes at him as he paid, thanking the stall owner before grabbing their food.

”You could use the protein. We’re going back to regular training in a few weeks,” he called behind himself, knowing she’d have something cutting to add. He delighted in it, teasing her incessantly about her huffy dislike of all the things he tried to get her to eat.

“And you could stand to skip it,” she said sweetly, with nothing kind in her smile. She reached for her plate and popped a wedge into her mouth before continuing. “I mean truly, I don’t know what they’re feeding you, Cassian. You don’t need any more muscles to ogle at.”

He chuckled at that. “Don’t you mean more muscles for you to ogle at.”

Her eyes narrowed but she shook her head emphatically, finally giving into the banter he’d so desperately been trying to distract her somber mood with.

“It’s embarrassing honestly, all the staring I get when I walk around with you and your wings hulking behind me. The size of you is scaring the poor citizens of Velaris.”

“You don’t seem to mind the size of me most days. And nights. Especially nights,” he added with a wicked grin.

She blushed, breaking her gaze from his own, snickering quietly even as she stared out at the harbor.

“You’re an idiot,” she finally settled on, mouth twisted in a wry half-smile.

”You still laughed,” he pointed out, poking her cheek as she swatted him away.

They ate in peaceful silence, until a restless urge overcame him and he couldn't keep it in any longer.

“You're not happy.” It was an observation from the past few days. Her face, her mannerisms, her behavior all had him more worried with each day.

“What?,” she asked, startled at his words.

He tried again, grabbing aimlessly for better words to get through to her.

“Doing all this I mean. I don't have much experience as a bride of course, but I think you're supposed to be enjoying yourself.”

“I am,” she protested quickly. Too quickly.

“I am,” she tried again, but it was quiet and a far more obvious lie this time than he was used to seeing from her.

“I just mean, your heart doesn't seem to be into it. Do you not want this ceremony?”

There he had said it. It had been a concern he'd toyed with for the past few days but he's convinced himself there was nothing to it. That he was imagining it. But he'd said the words and Nesta hadn't jumped to deny it. In fact she'd gone silent, looking everywhere but at him.

“We should go,” she finally said, her food half uneaten, lemonade completely untouched. “It's getting dark.”

And that was that.

She seemed to be waiting for him to finish his food but he found his appetite wholly gone then. It was a quiet, painful walk back to the House of Wind and an even worse flight up. Nesta did not look at him, did not dare to meet his eyes, and he found himself secretly relieved. He didn't want to know what he'd find should she look up at him. Disappointment or anger or perhaps both.

Nesta broke away from his hold too quickly for him to not notice it and grimace. But something held her back, one foot in the terrace they’d arrived on and one foot inside the House, and Cassian watched expectantly.

”Can we talk?,” she asked softly, looking back towards him. Something was stirring in her blue-gray eyes and it gave him pause and a moment to reconsider. But something within him told him to agree, and go forward.

He took the few steps to reach her and placed a kiss at the back of her head. “Always,” he promised.

She led him to the smaller alcove they sometimes used to have lunch in between trainings. It was a cozy room, with a fireplace they no longer needed in the blooming heat of summer, and two plush armchairs facing each other.

Cassian sat, stiff and uncertain, but he did it. She settled in across from him and to an unpracticed eye they’d see her move as elegantly as ever. But he saw the faint tremor in her hands, her gaze, the nervousness in all of it. And it set him on edge.

”I didn’t want an audience,” she started. “Out there I mean,” she nodded to the terrace and the world that lay below them. “We’ve done that before and I don’t want to get into another screaming match over the Sidra while all of Velaris watches.”

So it would be that sort of talk. He had to agree though. It wasn’t his finest moment and considering they were extensions of the royal family, it didn’t represent them all very well by public opinion.

Nesta played with an errant string on her shirt, fidgeting with it until he cleared his throat. She met his eyes then and he was terrified of what he saw. Before he could brace himself for whatever blow she was about to land, whatever hit-

“I think we should cancel the mating ceremony.”

The room was suddenly suffocating him. Hot and wretched air seemed to be all he could breathe in and the walls were definitely closing in around them. There was no way he’d heard her correctly.

“What?,” he blurted out.

Nesta’s stricken face told him he hadn’t heard anything wrong and his worst nightmare was in fact turning true. Silence laid waste in the space between them, and the longer it went on the worse he felt. Nauseous and overheated and jumping out of his skin.

“It was your idea,” he managed to bite out.

“I know…,” she sighed. “I know and I’m sorry-”

”Sorry…,” he chuckled, but it was cold. Flat.

He shut his eyes, trying to reign in his temper. It had no place here, he knew that, not when she was trying her best to talk to him as calmly as possible. He knew she was going through something, had known for the past few days. Angry as he could feel himself getting he knew it would undo any progress they had made in the past year. Maybe all of it.

“Okay,” he started again, opening his eyes and taking in her guarded pose. “Can you…tell me why?”

“I don’t want to fight,” she whispered pleadingly. He heard it, the tremble in her voice, and it broke his heart that she was this upset.

”We aren’t fighting sweetheart. Talk to me.”

Nesta curled up on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her satin dress, and her arms seemed to be holding her together.

”I don’t think it’s a good idea. To have the ceremony.”

”You don’t want to be mated,” he summarized, trying and failing to keep the hurt out of his voice. Or perhaps it was desperation.

”No. It’s not that. I mean,” she met his eyes, some of the tension gone, to his relief. “We are mated. Technically. I just thought about it and the ceremony is official. I mean, we’re having the priestesses come in to bless it. I know all about that Cassian. It’s serious. It’s ordained by Prythian’s magic, the land’s magic. It is binding.”

Cassian scoffed. “And you don’t want that.”

”No,” she snapped. “I think you don’t.”

Before he could protest the shocking assumption she moved on, a hand shot up to halt him and whatever he had to say.

”My parents were a love match. Did you know? It was so rare where they’re from, so everyone in their families was against it. But they loved each other.” Her eyes narrowed in contempt. “It was supposed to solve everything. Should have. But when I was growing up, I know what I saw. Resentment and anger and frustration. They were stuck together and they hated what they’d become. My father loved my mother, and I think she loved him in her own way, but they weren’t good for each other, in the end.” She shook her head at the thought. “ And I see that now, far more clearly than I did when I was a child. I know how it happens and it never starts off obvious or grim. It starts off like this.” She motioned a hand between them.

“We are not your parents,” he pleaded, not even sure where this was coming from.

”We don’t know that,” she stated flatly. “And I don’t want you to wake up one day, ten, fifteen, two hundred years from now and realize that we want two very different things.”

”Nesta-“

She spoke so softly he almost didn’t hear it. So soft yet laced with heartbreak. “I don’t want you to resent me. And I never want to hold you back.”

He shook his head emphatically, hoping she understood. “Never. You could never do that. That is not us. Wherever this is coming from, whatever you’re scared of, that isn’t us.”

“It may be. It could be. It’s different for you,” she explained, shifting in her seat, hands wringing nervously in her lap. He wanted her to just look at him, hold his gaze in that fierce strong way he was so used to from her. But she was so on edge he didn’t know if she even could.

”Explain it to me” he said simply.

”You grew up here,” she tried, hands gesticulating around them. “This world, your world, it tells you these things about the mating bond that I have never heard of. That I can never understand. But I can tell from what little I’ve learned, it is sacred to all of you. It is…” she struggled to find the words.

Nesta stood up then, and he was taken aback by the sudden movement. But he remained seated, focusing his attention wholly on her.

”I loved you,” she breathed out, holding his gaze in a tearful snare. “I loved you from the moment I met you. I knew it was only ever going to be you for me. And that was enough for me. If husband and wife was all I ever got, it was enough for me.”

He opened his mouth to tell her he loved her too. That he’d been so enamored by her from that first moment they’d met, that he’d-

“I have only ever wanted you Cassian. But you, you wanted a mate.”

”No!” He shot up to his feet then too. He had to, to defend himself, to defend them.

Nesta ignored it, lifting her chin in defiance. “I don’t think I can ever live up to the myths and legends your people tell of such a union and the bond. Mates are equals in every sense of the word. We are matched somewhat in power but what else? I am not like you, nor your family. I am not good or kind or honorable.”

“You’re wrong,” he breathed out shallowly, moving towards her. She stepped back and it took everything in him to not howl at the motion. To gather her up in his arms and force her to listen, to see how wrong she was about him, about them, about it all.

“You said it yourself, so many times Cassian. I just never wanted to see it. And your family…,” she scoffed. “They’ll likely never let me forget it.”

”They aren’t a part of this,” he growled. “Fuck them. Fuck them all. All I want is you. Do you not feel the same? Is that what it is?”

”I already told-,”

”Do you love me?,” he demanded. “You told me you wanted a mating ceremony and now you don’t. You also told me you loved me. Or was that a lie as well?”

She lifted her chin in defiance, hackles already rising at the bite in his tone. And just as suddenly as he’d seen her temper spike to match his, it seemed to completely disappear. Nesta seemed to turn inwards, eyes downcast. “You said you’d be shackled to me.”

Cassian’s breath came out of him in a whoosh, and understanding had finally hit him.

“I didn’t mean it.”

”Then you wouldn’t have said it,” she stated coldly. “But you did, and, I can’t even blame you. I would not be my own first choice for a mate, so why would you? Given everything you have heard of this bond, in what reality would you ever want to be with someone like me. I fall flat of all the expectations and I see it and I accept it and that is why I’m canceling our ceremony. You want a mate but you would not have it be me if you had a choice. And I won’t force you into it.”

”Nesta,” he pleaded, hating the crack in his voice. Hating all that he’d done to get them to this point. He’d take it all back, all of it, if only to reverse this moment right here.

Nesta did not wait to hear more, see more, skirts bustling as she hurried out of the room, Cassian reaching his hand out far too late to catch her.

~*~

He would wait it out. That was what he’d promised himself when she’d locked herself away from him. He's convinced himself that he should take a step back, give her some space, and they’d try again the next day. Perhaps they just needed to cool off and Nesta more so than him, needed time to re-evaluate. But that plan had quickly disappeared when he remembered the broken look on her face as she’d reminded him of his cruel words.

Shackled.

It took him back to that night on the bridge. He’d thought to wait out then too, opting to see her the following day when they’d both had time apart. And what had it gotten him? A mate who’d been stolen from her bed in the middle of the night, likely convinced he hated her. And he’d never made it right had he? In all these days together, planning and teasing, joking and smiling, he’d never corrected himself. Never apologized the way he’d rehearsed and planned to as he’d made the flight to Emerie’s house the day of the Blood Rite.

No, waiting wouldn’t be an option today. He’d given her an hour and then made his way upstairs.

He knocked at the door forcing his heart to ignore the soft, muted cries he heard beyond it. If he let himself feel it all as he often did, he may tear down the door itself to get to her. Every instinct in him was roaring to the surface and he barely subdued them.

“Go away Cassian.”

“Please.” It was all he said, all he could say, but something in it seemed to have gotten through to her because he heard a murmur and then the telltale click of the lock. A phantom wind opened the door and blew him in, and he murmured a silent thank you up to the House.

The bed dipped as Cassian seated himself beside her, and Nesta burrowed her head further under the covers.

A tense silence filled the room and he heard Nesta grit her teeth. Cassian shifted closer.

“I didn’t mean what I said-”

“But you-”

“I know,” Cassian cut her off. “I know I did anyways. I shouldn’t have said it at all. It was spoken in anger and, Nes, it was a mistake.”

Nesta didn’t speak but she did remove the covers from over her and sit upright. Cassian controlled the urge to reach out and smooth her hair, the lines on her face and her tearstained lashes.

“I didn’t mean it,” Cassian insisted again, extending his hand towards her splayed out on the bed. She withdrew it sharply before he could react and he swore he felt something shear against his heart. Cut and slice and dice him up inside at the small motion.

“You did.” She may have tried to keep the accusation out of her tone but there was only so much that she could do. And only so much he could ignore. “I saw it in your face. You meant it, Cassian. Don’t make yourself a liar just to make me wrong.”

“I…” Words died on Cassian’s lips and he looked away. “I didn’t mean it in that way though,” he whispered hoarsely.

“What other way is there to mean what you said?,” she snapped.

Cassian got off the bed and turned his back to her. His wings twitched with irritation and he tamped down the urge to spread them to ease this edginess in his bones.

“You’re young,” Cassian’s voice shook when he finally spoke. His hands shook and he interlaced them to calm himself down. “You’re powerful, you’re…so strong, Nesta. So strong. And you could have so much more.”

He turned slightly, dragging a hand over his face, suddenly feeling so tired. Nesta did not speak but her eyes were wide, glistening with something he couldn’t place.

“You could have had a kingdom. Could have been a queen with the power you had.” He shifted on his feet. “Still have,” he added on. “You could have had a prince who would have become a High Lord one day.”

He spat out the words High Lord, not caring if Nesta realized that the ire he felt towards Eris was still strong and present.

“You’re settling with a bastard.” He felt her flinch at the word, but Cassian went on as if he hadn’t seen it. “I have no name to give you and no title to share. You’re shackled to me, and you could do so much better. And I hate that,” he admitted with a bitter laugh, “But it’s the truth. And it’s why I was so angry that night. Because I know all that but still I was hoping I could have you. That I could ever endeavor to be worthy of you.”

“You are,” she insisted, breaking the silence that had built up between them. Her lip wobbled but she didn’t cry. Instead she reached out a hand to him, and he took it on instinct. But he did not join her on the bed, instead falling to his knees before her. Nesta tightened her hold on his hand and he reveled in it. Delighted in that reassurance that no matter what, she was still here, still willing to hear him out.

“From the moment I met you, I was falling for you.” A whispered confession but he’d kept it from her for too long. She was doubting him. Them. And he couldn’t allow it.

“I knew, and my brothers knew, and the wiser option would have been to stay away. You were human and fragile and mortal, and it was never going to end well. And I promised myself I would stay away, but I couldn’t. You were so…,” he struggled with his words. There was a band around his neck and it was hard to speak. But he did it anyways, nearly choking. “You were beautiful, and you were fierce, and loyal and brave. Everything you wanted to keep hidden from the world, I saw it. Nesta, I saw you.”

Nesta blinked back tears, holding her composure far more than he thought he was going to.

“I know,” she whispered, more to herself than him.

”I kept finding stupid excuses to come see you,” he chuckled dryly. “A letter to the queens, a message from Feyre, all bullshit. I just needed to see you because I wanted to know you, all of you. Then you fought with those queens and you defended the humans in your land. And I saw you plead with them for mercy, to help your people, and they mocked you for it- I nearly killed them right then and there. Rhys had to go into my mind and tamp down on me.”

He stopped before he made this new confession. Because it would either fall short on expectations or it would heal them.

”It was then that I knew I was in love with you. You are good and kind and honorable, and I am sorry you don’t see it. You were standing up for those who had no voice. You were courageous, loyal, and fighting for justice and righteousness and innocent lives. It was everything I had spent my entire life fighting for on killing fields and strategy rooms. I remembered how many times my pleas fell on deaf ears. And I knew then, that you were it for me, that I was in love with you, and that we were probably going to die in that war anyways, but it didn’t matter to me because I had found the woman I wanted to spend whatever time was left of my life with. The mating bond hadn’t even registered to me yet, Nesta.”

Nesta was crying now, silent tears streaming down her lovely face and it was all he could do to not reach over and wipe them away. All of his instincts roaring to the surface to cut and kill and hurt whoever had hurt her. Except it was him. He had hurt her, so who was punished then?

”And I will never forgive myself for what happened with Hybern. I promised to protect you and I did everything but. When Hybern threw you into the Cauldron, right before you went in, you looked for me. In a full room of your sisters you were looking for me, just as I have always been looking for you.”

Nesta nodded, confirming what he’d always suspected. It was the bond he’d felt between them when she’d been thrown into the Cauldron. She had sought him out in those moments of desperation before she’d drowned in that black water, and he had died a thousand deaths watching her go in, helpless and useless as she fought alone.

“The mating bond snapped, and you went under the surface. I felt you drown, I felt you die, I felt you beg for someone to help you and then I felt your anger when you decided to save yourself and take something back. And it meant nothing to me. The mating bond. I was grateful to it, but all that moment caused you was pain and fear that will likely follow you for your entire life. And I would do anything to take that away from you if I could.”

He lifted her hand, clenched and bone-white in his own, to his lips, and he kissed it savoring the blood and life and warmth he felt under his lips. That she was here with him. Through it all, here she was, this female, borne of darkness and anger and fear and strength and calamity. Still she was here, still she was his, and still she stood tall and proud beside him. He’d never stop marveling at her, at all she was, and all she had survived and fought for to get here.

With him.

Cassian pressed another kiss to her wrist. “I am in love with you. I love you. I will always love you. I don't need a bond to tell me that. Even if we didn't have it I’d tell you the same. I want to spend the rest of our lives together, no matter what. I never want to be apart. I want whatever you want. If you don’t want a mating ceremony, damn it to hell, we don’t do it. If you want to take some time and think, that’s fine too.”

Nesta stroked his cheek and he burrowed into it. That warmth and life she held for him.

“But know that I love you Nesta and I will never resent you for being you. I will never not want to be with you. Ten years from now, two hundred years from now, you are all I will ever want by my side. Know that if nothing else.”

He had never been one for poetry, for flowery words and beautiful language. It wasn’t in him but something in him knew this much had to be said. They’d had a whirlwind relationship these past few months and he knew so much had been left unsaid. Some of it was fine, but some of it he knew had led to distress. To him. To her. He’d had so much more to say the night she’d all but banished him and gone to Emerie’s. So much planned and he’d never done it, never thought to in the aftermath of the Blood Rite and Nyx’s birth.

But Cassian had been consumed by her from the moment they’d met. And every moment after. If she doubted him, them, he had to do something about it.

He waited apprehensively for an answer, a sign, something, anything from Nesta to know what their next move would be.

Nesta didn’t break his hold on her, nor did her gaze lower from his own.

Nesta’s voice broke when she finally spoke.

“I love you too. I always will. I…I don’t know what the future is going to bring and I’m scared,” she whispered before leaning down and touching her forehead to his own.

He breathed her in, sighing with relief as some of the tension in both of them loosened.

“We’ll deal with it, all of it, as it comes. I’m here with you. Always. I’m not going anywhere.”

Nesta seemed to be holding in a sob. “Do you promise?”

He ran a hand down her face, her back, soothingly. She was all but shaking.

“I promise,” he said before kissing her. She kissed him back fervently and they were both out of breath when she finally broke apart.

Cassian opened his eyes and watched her. He vowed, “I promise, on breath and blood, I will be with you for as long as you’ll have me. I will love you for the rest of our entire lives and I will cherish every moment we are given together. And when this world ends I will search for you in the next. And through it all, I will never stop loving you.”

Nesta smiled softly at that, before reaching for him again for another kiss. The kiss could have ended worlds. It could have stopped time. It was just them in that moment, bound by the very fabric of their souls, with the melody of their bond soaring high before tightening stronger within each other.

He’d meant every word.

So long as he breathed, he would be by her side, unyielding, loving her with every moment of their lives.

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bruhstories · 2 years

Text

perfectly imperfect

summary: otto hightower gathers more allies in support of his nephew after the destruction of the dragonpit. y/n reyne, lady of castamere, offers her hand in marriage to aemond targaryen to secure the safety of her land and people.

pairing: aemond targaryen x reyne!fem!reader (aged up)

warnings & content: canon-divergent, graphic descriptions of violence, aegon makes fun of disabilities, aegon is a dick to women, typical asoiaf shenanigans, unprotected sex, p in v, loss of virginity, fem bodied reader

wc: ~3.7k

a/n: listen, i did not plan on simping for aemond, okay? i was actually planning a daemon fic but i got carried away. also, there are NO spoilers for episode 10. i know it got leaked, i haven't watched it yet.

It seemed as if Aegon had won a trophy in Helaena when compared to Aemond's betrothed. He had complained about his sister-wife when he was a child, complained that she wasn't beautiful enough, that she was strange, with her fascination for insects, particularly spiders. Aegon could not fathom why his wife was drawn to such peculiar practices, but part of him was grateful he ended up marrying Helaena and not Y/N Reyne.

Aemond, on the other hand, made no verbal complaints about his soon-to-be wife. He had always obeyed his mother's rules, and he knew his marriage to the Lady of Castamere was nothing but political — an alliance with a powerful and rich family would only benefit in supporting Aegon's claim to the throne. All he had to do was put an heir in Y/N and secure his Targaryen lineage. He didn't have to love her, but he would respect her.

After the destruction of the Dragon Pit, Otto knew he had to act swiftly, asking lords and ladies all around Westeros for their support. It was Y/N Reyne who offered her own hand in marriage in exchange for the protection of her lands and people, and Otto and Alicent agreed. A small price to pay for the riches of Castamere. With her silver and gold, they could fund soldiers for the impending war between the Blacks and the Greens.

Not long after Aegon's coronation, Y/N Reyne travelled to King's Landing for a quick wedding. There was no time for feasts and parties, there was no time for her to get to know her husband — she wanted her people safe, and Otto wanted supporters.

The Lady of Castamere arrived at the Red Keep on horseback with a promised 200 soldiers, chests of gold, silver and rubies. Greeted by the king himself, Y/N bowed down, offering Aegon a dagger encrusted with small rubies on its silver handle.

"It's not Valyrian steel, your grace, but it was made by my finest blacksmiths." She removed the hood of her cloak, exposing a scar that went from her cheek, down her neck, the rest hidden behind her chest plate.

Aegon scrunched his nose at the sight of her scar, but the look of disgust came after she removed her leather gloves, revealing a missing ring finger on her right hand.

"You'll make a fine wife for my brother." The king sneered, and Alicent smiled. Finally, her son was speaking like a true royal. "Seeing as you're both cripples." Aegon laughed, toying with the dagger in his hand, bored and perhaps drunk.

Y/N pursed her lips. It took a lot of willpower not to bark back at him. She had sworn her loyalty to him, after all.

"I see your grace has a sense of humour." The Lady of Castamere smiled, the scar more visible when her cheeks puffed up.

It made Aegon's stomach churn to see a flawed woman. At least Helaena tried to look feminine, dressed in the finest of silks and wearing the most expensive jewellery, like a true queen. Yet Y/N was boyish, wearing metal plates and leather trousers. In the king's mind, she should've been in a carriage, not on a horse. She should've worn a dress, not an armour. She should've let her hair flow, not wear it in a plait.

The silence in the Red Keep was deafening, until Alicent offered to take Y/N to her chambers and Otto ordered Ser Criston Cole to take the westerlands soldiers to the East Barracks. The Lady of Castamere was taken aback when Alicent had asked her about her wedding dress, as Y/N had not brought one.

"I assumed it would be a quick wedding." She shrugged.

"I understand, but the king would not like it if you came to your own wedding wearing... that." Alicent sighed, exhausted by Aegon's shenanigans. "Come, we'll find something in Helaena's chambers."

All of the queen's dresses were beautiful, most of them silver or gold, but they did not fit Y/N. Her frame was quite athletic, as the scar on her skin was won in battle, and she was much taller, making the dresses look like they were tossed on a fence, not worn by a woman.

"My lady, I am truly sorry-"

"No, it's fine." Alicent chewed on her lower lip, an idea creeping in her mind. Y/N could wear one of Rhaenyra's old dresses, preferably one that wasn't black. In a bitter twist of fate, Rhaenyra's clothes did fit Y/N, and it only made Alicent more conflicted about her friendship, about everything that was happening.

It was overwhelming to see her son's future wife wearing her best friend's clothes. In the dusty golden dress and her hair in a braid, Y/N reminded Alicent of the day she had asked Rhaenyra about her and Daemon, a day that changed the course of everyone's lives. Who knew back then that their friendship would turn into animosity?

"My lady? Is something the matter?" Y/N took Alicent's hand in hers.

"No. No, you look perfect. Please, I have one last request." She smiled, but there was so much sadness hidden behind that smile.

"Of course."

"Untie your hair. Let it flow down your back. Just for tonight. After your wedding you may do with it as you please."

It was a strange request, but Y/N did not dare question it. She untied the bow holding her hair in place, running her fingers through her locks. Satisfied, Alicent hurried her out of Rhaenyra's chamber and into the Throne Room, where the king, the queen, the Hand, the High Septon, and Aemond waited.

That was the first time Y/N met her soon-to-be husband, the patch on his eye making him look both mysterious and menacing. She then understood what Aegon meant by cripple. Y/N bowed in front of the king and queen, taking her place to Aemond's right side. The younger Targaryen showed no emotion whatsoever at her presence, instead took her hands in his, listening to the Septon's prayers.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love, and take you for my lord and husband." Y/N uttered her vows, noticing the disinterested look on Aegon's face.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love, and take you for my lady and wife." Aemond did not hesitate snaking his fingers behind Y/N's ear, pulling her into a soft kiss, interrupted only by the king's own drunken chuckles, mixed with hiccups.

"You are now man and wife — one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever." The High Septon concluded, followed by dead silence.

Everyone knew what would happen next — consummation. Y/N was clever enough to know that she had to give Aemond an heir, but part of her hoped she would not be with child. She wanted to fight by her husband's side, not stay in the Red Keep or Castamere and raise children. Nevertheless, she was urged by Otto to follow Aemond in his chamber, and she reluctantly did.

To her surprise, her husband gently held her hand on the way up the stairs, and while she has been in battles, lost a finger, and had her face mutilated, the thought of losing her maidenhead made her feel sick. Before her mother died, she had prepared Y/N for the consummation of her marriage — how to seduce her husband, how to please him, what to say, where to touch him. It all seemed easy in theory, but putting it in practice was much, much harder.

There was a lump in her throat that she couldn't swallow, and although she felt cold, beads of sweat began to form on her forehead. Y/N thought she knew fear, but nothing compared to this. It did not help that Aemond did not utter a single word after speaking his vows, and perhaps it was for the best. There was nothing he could say that would make her feel less anxious. When he began to remove his cloak and unbutton his doublet, Y/N froze.

"Wait." She finally spoke, and Aemond did wait. He wasn't necessarily impatient to consummate his marriage, unlike his brother who would fuck anything that had two legs and a pretty face. "Before we proceed, I have to say this."

"Go on." Aemond neatly folded his cloak, placing it on a wooden chair, the half-unbuttoned doublet exposing his chest.

"I'm a fighter, not a mother. I will gladly give you an heir, if that is what you desire, but I want to fight side by side with you, my lord husband." Y/N hurried to where he stood, stripping herself of her ego by pleading with him.

"Why?" There was a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. The only other person who shared Aemond's passion for violence was Ser Criston Cole. Not even his brother was seduced by violence, let alone a noblewoman.

"You are a dragon." She replied. "I am a lion. We are not meant to be kept as pets. You, out of everyone, must understand the thrill of the battle, especially when you fight for what you believe in." Y/N spotted the wine on the table and poured herself a cup, only to ease her mind — and her body.

"And what do you believe in, then?" Aemond watched her sloppily drink the wine, the red liquid spilling down her chin, down the crook of her neck, staining the dress of the woman he so much hated.

"Violence." The Lady of Castamere slammed the cup on the table, feeling herself a tad more courageous. "Pure, ecstatic violence."

It was quite clear that her mother's seducing techniques would not work on a man like Aemond, and they did not need to work, because Y/N's honesty completely enchanted him. To have someone share his passions was more than he could ask from a wife. Once, he was fascinated by, perhaps enamoured with Helaena, but she was soft, and had he married her and grown to love her, she would've softened him. Y/N, on the other hand, was the spark he needed to ignite the fire flowing in his veins. He was a dragon, after all.

"I do not desire an heir." Aemond admitted. He couldn't see himself a father, partly because his own father seemed to prefer his nephews instead of his sons. The fact that Y/N was not interested in being a mother only solidified his love for battle. "And I do not care if you give me one."

Aemond's words awakened something in Y/N, something she had never felt before. It most certainly wasn't love — she couldn't possibly love a man she had just met. It was something else. Lust.

"So, will you allow me to fight, then?" Her voice went up an octave, excited, like a child receiving a toy.

"Gladly. Tell me," Aemond decided to consummate the marriage by discussing their experiences in battle, "have you killed before?" He poured himself a cup of wine. The young Targaryen wasn't keen on drinking, like his brother, but he enjoyed the occasional cup of Arbor Red. And he enjoyed drinking it over talks of spilled blood.

Y/N nodded, taking a seat at the table, finally feeling relaxed.

"Once." She watched her husband sit on the chair next to her, urging her to tell him how and when, and to not shy away from details. Y/N explained that it truly was an accident. Or, better it started as an accident. "Because father never let me fight, I used to dress like a boy and play with wooden swords. But because I was also a spoiled child, I couldn't fathom losing." She sighed, and Aemond was beginning to pick up on where her story was going.

"You don't seem like a spoiled child." Her husband watched her unwind, taking her shoes off and kicking them away.

"I suppose I never wanted to be one, but I liked the perks that came with it. That day, I was playing with the stable boys, and one of them beat the life out of me. I didn't mind the physical pain, but I felt humiliated." Y/N scoffed. "When I attacked him, he removed the hood from my head and instantly recognised me. I was fortunate enough that the other boys left, but out of fear of father finding out what I was doing, I pushed him so hard he fell and hit his head in the stone wall."

"But it was accidental." Aemond mimicked his wife by taking his boots off. He felt strangely comfortable around Y/N, discussing issues he could never talk about with his family.

"Indeed." She agreed. "But I was afraid he would heal and tell the maesters who did that to him. When I caught a glimpse of a dagger, I picked it up, straddled the boy and stabbed him."

"How many times?" His voice was dangerously low, and although Aemond was leaned back in the chair, his fingernails dug into the wood of the armrests, excited to hear more.

"Enough for him to never recover. There was so much blood." Y/N gingerly touched her face, as if she could still feel the hot crimson liquid trickling down her chin. "Warm blood — on my hands, my clothes, my face. I should've felt guilty, but I didn't." There was no hint of remorse in her voice, and her eyes darted to Aemond's lap. It did not surprise her that he was aroused by her story, the bulge in his leather trousers growing more noticeable every time she spoke about blood.

"Then what happened?"

"I left him there, ran back to the castle, burned the clothes and went to bed." Y/N laughed, not at the poor boy's death, but at how selfish she had been. "I was young and stupid."

"You talk as if you're an old hag." The corners of Aemond's lips turned into a smirk.

"It happened a decade ago."

"Tell me, then, if you had your current wisdom, what would you have done?" He leaned forward, studying his wife.

"I would do it all again." Y/N smiled, the wine taking over her brain. She played into her husband's game by imitating him and leaning closer to his face. "I would perhaps get rid of the body this time." Y/N whispered into Aemond's ear.

He had heard enough — enough to desire her in bed. It could've been the wine, it could've been that he hasn't laid with a woman in a long time, but Aemond grabbed Y/N by the back of her neck, pressing his lips onto hers. She allowed him to slide his tongue between her wine-stained lips, and even dared to pull him closer.

Her fears? Gone.

Her morals? Gone.

Her last shred of dignity? Gone.

Aemond pulled away, earning a soft sigh from his wife, only to pull her up from the chair and push her onto the table, the cups clattering onto the floor.

"You..." He whispered, struggling to pull her dress up. "You were made to be mine." Aemond resorted to tearing the dress apart. He didn't like it, anyway, and he knew it brought sorrow to his mother.

Y/N melted under his touch like steel in dragonfire. She hastily pulled his green shirt over his head, taking a moment to appreciate his looks. It tickled Aemond's ego. He did not give two shits on people's opinion of him, but seeing the lust in her eyes only fuelled his inner fire.

"I-" She pressed her palms against his chest. "I am a maiden." Y/N told him, as if he expected her not to be one.

"I can't promise to be gentle." Aemond kissed her again. "But I can promise you will enjoy it."

That was a foreign concept to her. All the stories she heard from her mother were about pain, and how it was a woman's duty to bed her husband and not take pleasure from it. Only whores enjoy it, her mother would say. A whore she would be, then.

Once both of them were stripped of their clothes and morals, Y/N squeezed her thighs together, partly because she wanted to tease her husband. And Aemond was too far gone to respect his wife. His elbow pushed between her thighs, opening her legs while his hands dug into her hips, pulling her closer to him, like a starving dog.

"It will hurt." Was his attempt to comfort her.

"I know." Y/N nodded, her fingernails digging into his upper arms, bracing for pain. "I'm ready."

With her consent out of the way, Aemond slowly slid the tip of his cock between her already slick folds, stopping when he saw the discomfort on her face.

"Relax." He demanded, but it came from a good place. Being more experienced, Aemond wanted everything but to hurt her. When she nodded again, he pushed further, only to hear his wife scream in agony. "Bite into my shoulder. I don't suppose you want to wake everyone up."

Reluctantly, Y/N obeyed the order, her teeth sinking into his skin, and when he bottomed out, she arched her back in pain, wriggling and writhing under him. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes, despite Aemond stopping every movement to allow her to adjust to his size. What was worse was gone, and Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders, clinging to him as if her life depended on it.

"By the gods, it hurts so much!" She cried out, gasping when she saw the mark she left on his skin.

"I know. But it will not get any worse than this." Aemond assured her. "Do you trust me?"

"I do." Y/N sobbed, but he was right. The pain slowly dissipated, and her muscles relaxed, no longer feeling on edge. It still hurt, yes, but it did not compare to the sheer pain she had felt moments ago.

When Aemond began rolling his hips, something awakened in the Lady of Castamere. The slight discomfort was still present, but it was quickly replaced by an unknown feeling which Y/N realised was something primal and instinctive — pleasure. Not even the thrills of fighting could compare to the pleasure she felt when Aemond thrusted harder and harder into her sloppy cunt.

"Fuck, you're so tight." He practically growled, surprising himself with his own words. Aemond wasn't the type of man to talk during these intimate moments, and while he enjoyed the occasional visits to brothels with Aegon, his wife was superior to all the whores he'd ever fucked.

Even her gestures were drawing him to her — the way Y/N rolled her eyes back, how she gasped, how she scratched his skin, leaving her mark on his body. Sure, Aegon might be disgusted by her scar and missing finger, but to Aemond, she was perfectly imperfect.

"So g-good!" Her thoughts were fuzzy, her words barely coherent. All Y/N could do was take him all in and revel in the bliss Aemond offered her.

But he wanted more, and when he pulled out, she complained. It bewildered her how much she actually enjoyed herself, to the point she cried out when she couldn't feel his cock stuffing her.

"Turn around." Aemond ordered, but he was already in the process of flipping her over, his hand pressing her face on the table.

Instinctively, Y/N lifted her ass up, like a bitch in heat, her fingernails leaving scratches on the wood.

"Please, put it in." Her cheeks were squished on the hard surface, body hot to the touch. There was no more room for decency and grace when all she wanted was for her husband to fuck her stupid.

"Already worshipping my cock, eh?" His lips pressed a kiss on her shoulder before he released the grip on her neck to lift her leg on the table. But he delivered, and he pushed his cock into her yearning cunt, a string of moans escaping her lips.

Y/N arched her back, not believing it would be possible for her to feel better than before. Oh, how wrong her mother was. She could feel him deeper, and he was anything but gentle and respectful.

The more he thrusted, the more she bucked her hips, using her trembling arms for support. Aemond's chambers echoed with her moans and his grunts, with the sound of skin on skin, and the disgusting wet noises that filled the Street of Silk.

And then it happened — Aemond's pace quickened, his fingers bruising her hips, and Y/N could feel her climax boiling into her core, awaiting release. Her spongy walls clenched around his cock, her head felt lighter and her chest heavier.

"Gods, Aemond, I can't-" She fell flat on the table, the filthiest guttural sounds emanating from her.

"Fuck." He could feel himself closer to his own climax, but he swiftly pulled his cock out, spilling his seed onto her lower back.

The warm liquid made Y/N prop herself on her elbows, curious as to why he did not finish inside of her.

"No heirs tonight." Aemond said, as if hearing her thoughts. "You're not a cow for breeding, you are my wife."

"I could've taken the tea." She spotted a piece of fabric from her wedding dress and took it, attempting to clean herself.

"You could've, but then everyone would find out." He snatched the fabric from her hand and wiped her skin clean. "And what would my grandfather think, then? That you're not a woman of your word, or worse, that you're plotting against the king."

Aemond was right. The maester would surely let the Hand know, and then she would either be imprisoned or killed.

"Very well. No heirs tonight." Y/N took the soiled fabric, tossing it into the fireplace.

Aemond brought Y/N one of his robes, draping it around her shoulders, his hand resting on the small of her back. Strangely, he felt the urge to hold her close to him, this woman he met and wed on the same day. He felt the need to protect her, despite knowing very well she did not need his protection.

But the only people he ever showed affection were his mother, and occasionally his sister. He did not know how to be a husband. But to show his wife that he trusted her, Aemond quietly took his eye patch off, revealing a sapphire gem in place of his missing eye.

"Disfigured." He uttered, watching his own reflection in the mirror next to the fireplace.

"No, perfect." She smiled, tilting her head so that he could better see her scar. Aemond brought his index finger to her cheek, tracing the scar down her neck, down her collarbone, in-between her breasts.

"One flesh, one heart, one soul." He repeated the Septon's words, and they began to make more sense.

"Now and forever."

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