#sorry for taking up so much space on y'all's dash
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color me purple ♡ part two
✄ - - - - part 1 , part 2 , part 3 - - - - soundtrack - - - - ♡
synopsis: it’s summer and you’re back at camp stillwater. as a counselor you mean serious business and you’ll do whatever it takes for your cabin to come out on top. the only thing in the way of that; ellie williams and her crazy antics.
| 𓆣 | pairing & wc: ellie williams x reader. wc: 3.3k
| ❀ | cw (by part): 18+ themes (MDNI), modern au, fem reader, some fluff but mostly angsty, HEAVY sexual themes on the verge of smut, swearing, slight mention of marijuana, ellie is kinda a perv, ellie calls foot fetishes weird so if u have one i'm sorry lol not trying to kink shame its just for the plot !!
a/n: happy wednesday y'all!! i was literally kicking my feet while writing this hehe. i love being a delulu lesbian on paper. also i've never played poker before so if i worded something wrong i am so sorry lolz. sending hugs and kisses 2 you all ♡~ lola
Mrs. Campbell seemed taller this evening as she stood waiting to confront you with your fate. The moon shone brightly casting her long, mangled shadow across the dirt. As she spoke, your gaze remained locked to it, avoiding the disappointed look you knew was written all over her face.
“What do you two think you’re doing?!?” she yelled. You struggled to form any words with the large lump consuming your throat. Your stomach would’ve dropped too but you were pretty sure you had lost it during your barefoot dash through the woods. Ellie stood next to you just as silent until your devastated face clued her into your current state. She quickly tried to rationalize, speaking for the both of you.
“Mrs. Campbell, we're so, so sorry. Seriously, it was all my fault, please don’t blame Y/n!” You softened hearing Ellie so quickly take the fall. Feeling compelled to finally join this tense confrontation, you looked up from the ground. Your eye’s met with the wardens but they were filled with concern rather than fury as you had expected. Your injuries had alluded to a situation that she felt needed a bit more context.
“I’m just trying to figure out how you two ended up here bloody, wet, and 2 hours past curfew!” she said. With the guidance of Ellie you calmly explained the situation. Of course, it wasn’t the full truth. You took extra care to leave out the part about your little smoke sesh. And after what felt like hours of questioning and nagging, you and Ellie were given the benefit of the doubt, remaining counselors for the summer.
Mrs. Campbell gave her final say, “You girls better count your blessings. I’m feeling nice tonight. But, I can’t let your behavior go unpunished. Neither of you will be participating in tomorrow's first round of games. I'll take your campers under my wing while you two think about your behavior back at the cabins. Alone.” Tears welled in your eyes as you came to terms with the consequences of your actions. Ellie shifted her gaze to your heartbroken expression and the corners of her mouth turned down. Sure it was just one day of sitting out, but she knew how much the competition meant to you and felt like a total piece of shit for making you miss out. Even if it wasn’t completely her fault.
“That’s final. Now both of you please go wash up and stop making me worry!” Mrs. Campbell concluded.
You and Ellie made the 5 minute walk to the showers in silence, still shaken up from the recent events. Despite the water’s icy temperatures, it felt nice to wash off the evidence of your night living on the wild side. However, Ellie showered one space over with little emotional relief, too consumed by you. She just stood idle as the sharp drops of H2O hit her back. Questioning how you felt about her, if you were mad, and what you were thinking but wouldn’t say.
She couldn’t take it anymore and quickly switched off the water, drying off with a rough gray towel. You followed in suit, stepping out wrapped in your pink towel. The textured fabric wrapped tightly over your breasts hoisting the mounds up to peak over the linen. They sat pretty like a Victorian woman in a tight corset. Ellie, now in a fresh pair of clothes, kept her head forward but eyed you from her peripherals before finally speaking.
“I’m so sorry… I don’t even know what to say. I never wanted to get you in trouble.” She looked absolutely miserable, so convinced you hated her. You’d never seen this side of Ellie before. A side that was real and vulnerable. You had always pinned her as this impenetrable tough guy, never seeming bothered by anything. And now here you were, bothering her. What was so special about you, why did she care?
“Ellie, I’m not mad at you, just a little sad. This was my choice as much as it was yours.”
Ellie turned to you, voice breaking, “Wait… really?” Part of her felt like an idiot for bringing it up now, considering it was all in her head, but you didn’t think twice about giving her the reassurance she seeked.
“Yes, really.” Ellie gave a timid smile slanting to one side and breathed a sigh of relief knowing that her assumptions were just a product of overthinking.
“Now please, stop being so melodramatic and help me patch up all these stupid cuts.” You took a seat on the long bench placed in the tiled bathroom and Ellie followed like a humble servant. She got down on her knees like she owed it to you. Taking a wet cloth in her right hand and carefully cleaning your cuts one by one. Her touch was gentle, almost too much, but she didn't want to hurt you. You took pleasure in Ellie’s tender care and couldn’t help but wonder if she’s like this with all her friends. Even more, you questioned if it’s something you should be enjoying as much as you did. Ellie took her sweet time rinsing out the dirt from your wounds that you had acquired as an unwanted souvenir. Tending to your injuries gave her more time to study all of your nooks and crannies. Something she had only dreamed of. Ellie enjoyed every second until she reached your thighs, your gorgeous plush thighs. She observed as your pink towel bunched at the abdomen before splitting down the sides of your legs in a triangle-like formation. Mind hazy with desire, she couldn’t help but yearn for the other body parts under that towel that she wished to tend to. Ellie internally slapped herself for the heat that followed her nasty thoughts and her tour of your body was cut short. Following the clean, she took some Neosporin to smooth across the bigger gashes that covered your knees and elbow. You winced at the friction.
“It really got you good huh,” she teased, “maybe you can lie and say you got attacked by a bear or something.”
“No, not a bear,” your eyes rolling, “just Ellie Willaims and her antics.”
“Oh shut up, you had fun.” You didn’t say anything back, just gave a smile, because you knew Ellie was right. As much as you wanted to be upset about how everything went down and how you were so easily influenced by her, you just couldn’t. Maybe because you knew she had no ill intent, or maybe you were beginning to realize that breaking rules wasn’t so bad- perhaps, it was even a little fun.
You woke up early the next day with everyone else, despite your impromptu grounding. Although you yearned for sleep, the sun shone too bright and the girls chatter, too loud. You pulled the scratchy covers of your twin bed up, making it semi-nice for your next sleep. A sleep you looked forward to, as it signaled the end of this awful day. But, with the cabin overcome by girlish excitement it was hard to remain in such a sour mood. You ventured to the top of an empty but rickety bunk bed to observe the members of team red from above. It was like watching a village of little ants running around prepping for the day ahead. Some flew out the screen door to shower, a few braided each other's hair, and all of them finished dressed up in color coordinating outfits.
As 9:30 am approached, you wrapped up your finishing touches to the last few stragglers with silky hair ribbons and red face paint. By 9:40, the once bustling room was empty and the silence was loud. In an attempt to occupy your wandering mind you cracked open a Nancy Drew book, the 3rd in its series. The crisp pages slid between your fingers as the mystery consumed you, but it wasn't long before your peace was interrupted.
A peculiar knocking sound tore you from the novel opened in your hands. Setting it down on your green and pink bedding, you ventured to your dirty window to scope out the inexplicable noise. On the other side of the glass stood Ellie, like a kid, throwing rocks at your window. You stared out the gray panes that divided her in four, rolling your eyes at the audacity of it all. She continued her little performance pulling out a janky sign written in dried out blue marker. It read I'm bored… You pretend to be distraught at the news, playing into her little game. Ellie then flipped the sign over to show you the back where she had scribbled the words Do U wanna hangout? and then some idiotic smiley face to complete the message. Ellie’s own face mimicked the emoticon as she displayed all her teeth like a child on picture day. It was stupid and cheesy and it was kinda working.
The sign continued to waver in the wind as you consulted the imaginary angel and devil that lurked on your shoulders. You finally answered Ellie (whose arms were getting tired) through the window with a simple middle finger and yanked the curtains closed knowing you weren’t supposed to be leaving your living quarters that day. And although you maintained a tough exterior for the sake of the bit, you felt just a little bit giddy being invited over by Ellie. That same giddiness nagged at your morals until finally you sided with the devil. Besides, everyone will be gone and too busy to catch you guys slacking off.
You rushed to the sink to brush your teeth aggressively and then changed into a red cropped shirt with a wide neck and black biker shorts that sculpted your ass perfectly. You weren’t sure why, but you had this sudden need to impress her. Her opinion now carried a weight that was foreign to you. That weight then influenced a smear of the same cherry flavored lip gloss from the night before, remembering Ellie’s thoughts on it. You slipped the tube into your bra just in case and then skipped over like the girl next door.
Ellie opened up with a smirk. Her hair was messy and despite waking up hours ago her lounge wear remained on. You didn’t mind though. Something about her toned body in a black wifebeater tank and gray sweats made you excited.
“Well hello there.” She gestured for you to come inside. You sat in the middle of the room on an old, sage green rug. Anticipating Ellie’s next move, you pulled your scuffed up knees to your chest. She plopped down next to you and began to poke.
“I was starting to think you weren’t gonna show up.”
You scoffed, “I mean, I hate you Ellie, but not that much.” You straightened out your right knee and gave her a little kick in the shin.
“Shut up dude. I know you love me.” Ellie nudged your shoulder and you gave a simple chuckle in response, but inside you were questioning the past feelings of distaste you once harbored for her and the new ones that replaced them. You needed a distraction.
“Sooo.. how are you gonna entertain me??” Your question sent Ellie’s mind to all kinds of places, some dirty most dirty.
“Oh? So you wanna be entertained? How about a little game of poker?”
“Poker?” you said, becoming suspicious of Ellie's seemingly normal answer but the tone of her voice was a dead giveaway to the mischievous plans.
“Well… not just any poker. I play a little differently.” You urged her to continue.
“Like different how?”
“Ever heard of strip poker?” she questioned, scrunching her freckled nose in anticipation of your response. She wouldn’t think twice about indulging in this game with other friends but it was something about you and the unspoken homoerotic nature of your relationship that made the request much more daunting.
“Oh my god Ellie,” you gave a long sigh, “Do you really wanna see me naked that bad?” Usually her face would go bright red at a comment like this but today she was prepared for your little quips, having taken the leap to propose such a game in the first place.
“No. I wanna watch you lose.” she stated bluntly. And with her words, a jolt of that familiar cutthroat attitude surged through your body along with a little arousal that you ignored, pretending it was just adrenaline.
“Oh you’re on.” you spat. What had Ellie Williams done to you? Just days ago you would have opposed such a scenario like sneaking over to play strip poker but her dangerously seeming presence was exhilarating to you. She was a drug you just couldn’t quit. And before you could even think twice, that drug was pulling out her playing cards and popping a mixtape ← into her old cassette player.
You grew quiet and the music grew loud as you anxiously waited for Ellie to shuffle the deck. She had a classic one with the red patterned backings. The cards slotted into each other as Ellie thumbed the split stack from bottom to top. It made a satisfying noise that repeated a few more times before she dealt them out between the two of you.
The rules were simple, each chip signified an article of clothing, whoever had the worst hand lost a chip and a little bit of dignity along with it. A stack of 4 old poker chips sat in front of you balancing on the ridges of the rug. 1 for your shirt, 1 for your shorts, and 2 for each sock. Ellie had the same. You could practically feel the sweat gathering on your brow as the game began. The first round was close, Ellie with a straight and you with 3 of a kind.
She quickly snatched up one of your chips before saying, “You lose!!”
“This is just the first round, don’t get used to it.” you replied, peeling off your left sock. Quickly you placed your other foot on top of the now bare one, hiding it from Ellie like it was something to be embarrassed of. She took note of your behavior and clarified her intentions.
“You know, I don’t have a weirdo foot fetish if that's what you’re thinking.”
“Oh my god. Shut. Up. I don’t think that, I just don’t want you looking at my feet.” You turned your face away from her, putting your hand up theatrically. Your embarrassment amused Ellie.
“Just wait till you have to take your top off.”
“That won’t be necessary.” You tried seeming confident in your reply but your face felt hot and your hands were clammy. You didn’t want to imagine being so exposed in front of Ellie. What if she doesn’t like it? Why did it matter if she did?
“Right, we’ll see how that goes…” Ellie’s voice trailed off, letting go of your stubborn ramblings. The game continued as so; round 2: you won, round 3: you won again, round 4: Ellie won. At this point there were no more socks to take off. Your stomach twisted and turned thinking of the next possibilities. Part of you wanted to give up and take off but the other part of you wanted to stay around and see what Ellie looked like without a shirt. This confused you.
During round 5 you could hardly focus, but luck was on your side when all Ellie could present was a pair against your straight, leaving you a winner. Without a second thought she crossed her arms grabbing at the hem of her tank. Her biceps flexed with motion as she pulled it over her head revealing a black sports bra. You stared unintentionally, mouth agape.
“Like what ya see?” Ellie remarked. Your cheeks flushed red and your head shot down into your lap like a reflex.
“Relax, we’re just friends having fun. You can look.” she continued. Right… friends. You took a deep breath in trying to calm yourself. There was still more of the game to play and a craving for victory that lingered.
The next round was brutal leaving you with a measly high card, the worst hand you could get. Before Ellie even revealed her hand, your mind was at war deciding if you should remove your pants or shirt first. This felt like so much more than a simple game of cards with a friend. I mean here you were in front of half-naked Ellie, questioning if she was more of an ass girl or if she liked tits better. After your losing cards were revealed you took a pause, twirling a stray thread around your finger that you had pulled off the rug. Just as you were settling on pants Ellie interrupted.
“If- If you dont wanna, you don’t have to. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.” Ellie was starting to feel guilty for roping you into her games. For her, this wasn’t about winning, it was about pleasure and that's what made her feel so bad. You were here to play poker and Ellie was just waiting to see what panties you wore that day. Such a perv.
“NO,” your voice raised, halting Ellie’s skewed thoughts like your life depended on it. “I want to.” You stood up slowly trying to steady your shaky hands. Gently, your long fingers rimmed around the waistband of the shorts. Ellie sat criss-cross looking up at you like a god. The black spandex peeled off your wide hips and down your thighs at an agonizingly slow pace for Ellie. Finally reaching your knees they fell the rest of the way down, pooling at your ankles. The cool air tickled your pantie-clad privates, sending you back down to the warm spot you left on the floor.
Ellie couldn’t even speak. It was like a wet dream seeing you dressed in nothing but a crop top and some lacey, pink underwear. The heat between her legs was almost unbearable and she could feel as her slick seeped straight through the plaid boxers hidden under her sweats. Too busy with her downstairs, she failed to give you any sort of sign that would hint to the pleasure your body was giving her. You felt stupid for even wanting that from her and flipped to lay on your stomach trying to hide your nakedness. Without Ellie’s approval or encouragement you felt ashamed.
Wanting this moment of awkwardness to pass, you reached for more cards to continue to the next round. Ellie grabbed the deck before you could even reach it.
“Actually uh- we should just stop.” she said, not even able to make eye contact from how overwhelmed she was with lust. Of course, you didn’t know this and a downward spiral of thoughts began. Have you done something? Said something? What happened?
You stuttered out a “Wha- why?” Ellie continued staring down at her crotch. Her stupid crotch- that was the reason why. She knew that if she lost the next round, her sweatpants that shielded her from embarrassment would have to be removed. The large and growing wet spot of your doing was something Ellie refused to let you see. She assumed that if you were to ever discover the amount of arousal a friendly game of poker caused, you’d be disgusted and never speak to her again.
“I just- I think you need to leave.” You blinked hard and fast, trying to swallow back any tears being provoked by Ellie’s response.
“So… I’m that ugly, huh?” you said, voice now shaking. You felt humiliated.
“No, no!! It’s not th-”
“Save it Ellie,” you yelled, tears beginning to run down your cheeks. “This is the last time I let you make me out to be some loser idiot who falls for all your tricks! I am not ending up like all those stupid girls who you’ve fucked over!” You kicked open the swinging door taking one look back at Ellie. Her face was dumbfounded, confused, hurt. What were you saying? What was all that supposed to mean? She thought of chasing after you but knew it would be no use. You were too stubborn and upset to be talked to by Ellie, and it was quite clear that neither of you had realized what this game had meant to the other.
✄ - - - - part 1 , part 2 , part 3 - - - - masterlist - - - - ♡
taglist...
@endureher @gold-dustwomxn @alexpritch @4rt3m1ss
(taglist is for all callmelola111 works, if you'd like to be removed just kindly lmk)
#wlw#ellie williams#ellie williams fanfic#ellie smut#ellie tlou#ellie williams fan fiction#ellie williams series#ellie williams smut#ellie williams x reader#ellie x fem reader#callmelola111#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie x reader#ellie x you#ellie williams tlou#tlou#the last of us#tlou 2#tlou 2 smut#tlou fanfiction#tlou2#tlou ellie#the last of us 2#tlou series#the last of us ellie
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I got a couple questions on clown church! So first, who does scutwork on a church ship? We've heard mention of kin in the kitchens, but who's taking out the trash, mopping floors, fixing gapers, etc? Is there a duty rota, or are there kin that see it as a holy calling? Secondly...what do the faithful picture the afterlife to be? A Dark Carnival, sure, but are they watching, laughing at the castes who laughed at them in life? Or do they get to perform if they did a good enough job in life?
I'm incapable of being brief so I'm just gonna readmore this for the sake of everybody's dashes! Sorry I ramble so much. U///U
RE: the dirty work, that is a great question and one I wish had occurred to me much earlier in the writing process tbh haha! Complete transparency: my first instinct is to say very beleagured midbloods and very disposable and unlucky lowbloods. If I'd thought about it sooner, I would have given that some setup! But it didn't occur to me, which does definitely make it seem like it's being done by the purplebloods on-ship. Shared dirty work is a nice thought, but also definitely doesn't seem very trollish.
Not a deal-breaker--possibly the church just isn't very trollish about this, like they aren't very trollish about the concept of community! But honestly, I feel like the more workable explanation is just the ignorance or lack of investment on the part of our POV characters. Church highbloods have a certain amount of kinship that's super alien to the other trolls, but they're not even universally cooperative with each other, let alone with other blood colors, and Gamzee is definitely not exempt from that now that he's socialized into a larger group of trolls.
All this to say; If I was a lowblood in charge of cleaning a ship full of murder clowns, I would have a LOT of incentive to fade into the background and only come out when I had to, and also to quickly avoid any sight or sound of any clowns who did happen to be up. And if I was Gamzee, who is now a sober trained soldier who's been much "better" socialized RE: his place in society, I would probably not take note of the coming and going of those lowbloods, unless they were dumb enough to somehow get right in front of me and interact. So I would say probably unlucky cleaning staff from warmer colors of blood. :T Someday maybe I'll go back and back-edit a dropped mention or two of them in there, we'll see.
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RE: the Dark Carnival, that's not actually part of the religion I've given as much thought to, so I'll weave some fuckin story fabric here and now I suppose lol. normally I do this in my head with my hands on the keyboard staring into space so I'll try to trim the thought process down.
I guess my concept of it would be...any troll could be part of the carnival, but the goal for the faithful would be the audience, or for exemplary kin, as ringmasters and acts, but always in charge or control for the watchers' amusement. Whereas lowbloods and seadwellers would be paint and bloodsport and literal cannon fodder, etc. And selling the hotdogs and shit probably I guess lol. I haven't gone back to see what details, if any, I've put into the fic; there's definitely mention made of "your ticket" as a reference to like, your salvation, your way into the proverbial carnival.
Gamzee also says to one of the members of the CoF that they "took their ticket in their hands and tore" and curses UU essentially "i hope you're forgotten and your soul freezes alone forever in The Great Black Empty" so that all implies to me that I've implied to y'all that kin who had that implicit chance at salvation and did something blasphemous or heretical can lock themselves out of any kind of carnival at all, even as tortured circus acts, and are damned to just like, oblivion.
...Which makes sense to me, considering I also put in a mention that Gamzee would hate to be the last one of his faith left alive, because there would be nobody to commend his soul, with the implication that there wouldn't be any salvation or afterlife for him if they didn't. Which positions oblivion and forgottenness as the ultimate punishment. I dropped that in there as a reference to canon, the idea that he'd "run from death forever" if he was the last one left alive, but also it's an interesting data point theologically haha.
#Price of Forgiveness#I'm incapable of trimming down my rambling I apologize hahaaa#TuT#At some point I should put this in the reference document#.................not tonight tho lol I'm tired#ask time!
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what got you into writing? have you written for hockey from the very start?
omg i love this question! even if it completely embarrasses me and outs me as a loser lol
also apologies for how long this ask will inevitably be, i know you asked a basic question, but i'm incapable of being short winded but you probably know that by now. so i'll put a "read more" just so i don't take up too much space on everyone's dash :)
to put it simply, i never had a whole lot of irl friends and also had an incredibly overactive imagination that never went away (on top of being a middle child who felt perpetually ignored but we don't have time to unpack that). so i spent a LOT of time daydreaming.
i have always LOVED writing, it's always been so fun for me to craft stories and arcs, even if i didn't really understand that until high school. in middle school, i started writing just wish fulfillment self insert ocs for different fandoms based on which hyperfixations i had at the time, but it was never anything serious until i was a freshman in high school?
i had a friend who also wrote some stuff and we ended up writing together and sharing our writing with each other (i'm going to tell you what fandom, and just know the movie had just come out and we were feral for it....it was les mis fanfiction). i had published a few of my works on fanfiction.net (this was pre ao3 days, okay?) and the first fic i was super excited about, but got some good critique that it was misogynistic (and it was) so i deleted it and started working on new things. i ended up writing a few avengers pieces? but i don't think i ever formally published the lengthy oc fic i had extensively planned and written because i was afraid i couldn't commit to updating it (and then my obsession with marvel eventually dissipated after endgame).
ANYWAY, i'm sorry this is such a long answer, but i took a break from writing, and just perused tumblr for fics (i've had this tumblr for about 10 years i think? or at least i've been on tumblr for that long at the very least, i deactivated my old account). i ended up living in cincinnati and got really into nfl football (it's instilled in me, my family is a football family first and foremost). so i started reading nfl fics, and that's how i met @lukeevangelista early 2023 (right around the 22-23 nfl playoffs) and she got me hooked on hockey somehow (i'm easily influenced apparently). a few months after observing and learning about hockey (and reading fics, of course) i tried to write one myself and that's how head start (the jack hughes fic) came to be!
and i've been publishing my writing on this hellsite ever since! it's been really fun and i've met a lot of great people and read a lot of great stuff! and i don't think i tell everyone enough how happy i am to be here, y'all have made this a very fun and rewarding experience. :)
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4, 6, 17, 20?
oooh well this got long so I'll do a break to save everyone's dashes
4 a sentence or paragraph that you’re proud of
oh man, I’m proud of a lot of what I’ve written, especially lately. I feel like a lot of the stuff that hits hardest only hits right within its larger context. I love a sucker punch sentence after a long, slow buildup. I was really happy with the bit with Nick walking into the lake at the end of “don’t stop if I fall”:
It felt so strange, but also like a need as primal as human touch being met for the first time after an eon of starvation. His whole body was a raw burn and the water that rose up around him was a cool compress. His hands, cracked and callused from a lifetime of abuse, drank up the moisture and grew soft. He kept walking.
I mean, how bizarre would it feel to have never been submerged in water? if your only contact with water had ever been via sinks and showers and maybe a tepid, cramped bath?
I’m really proud of a lot of my comedy moments, too. I think my comedic pacing and timing has gotten better over the years and I’ve always loved to write banter. But I think I’ve gotten better at structural comedy via the narrative also, not just funny dialogue, particularly for characters who would not say funny dialogue - like in “I’ve seen all the demons that you got”:
Vash came back into the shop stinking of cigarettes[…] Knives sprayed him with air freshener and retreated to his office while Vash spluttered.
[…] he told Vash where he was going, and Vash's eyebrows did a little dance. Knives was sorry he didn't still have the can of air freshener.
6 what character do you have the most fun writing?
ok there’s recency bias happening here obviously, but I fucking love writing Zazie. they’re so fun. y'all won’t know why I’ve had so much fun with them until November but it’s just refreshing to write a chaos gremlin who doesn’t have baggage, lol.
17 do you think that readers perceive your work differently to you? what do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or motivations?
until fairly recently I would have said that readers would be surprised to know that I’m asexual but then I found out that apparently aces who write smut are, like, the backbone of society XD but seriously, my go-to answer for “why does someone who doesn’t want to have sex write about sex” is just why would someone who doesn’t want to go to space write about going to space. why would someone who doesn’t want to commit a murder write a murder. stares directly at the stupidly massive quantity of speculative fiction ever written and then looks into the camera.
other than that uhhhh I have no idea? a few times I have had readers leave reviews like “oh wow, you must have experienced [thing] because you describe it so accurately” and I take that as a huge compliment because it means I’m a very good study of human character and psychology. but no, to those specific commenters in the past, I have not been a member of a cult, grown up on a farm and/or killed chickens to cook, nor had any transcendent group sex. thanks for thinking my life is that exciting tho! <3
20 tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble about (symbolism, character or relationship development, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes)
ok there’s a big one in the big bang fic that I can’t talk about yet but I HOPE people see what I did there. and are just like “I see what you did there”
yes I love these!!! generally it’s wordplay or symbolic references that I just don’t know if anyone picked up on because no one said it in any comments… argh I’m struggling to think of a lot right now but in “I’ve seen all the demons that you’ve got” I really hoped that when I used the phrase “dose makes the poison” that people connected that all the way through Knives’ past work refining ricin and him having been dosed with ketamine (which is, like, a legitimate and important medication but the dosage is SO important)… ummmm also in “don’t stop if I fall” there’s just so many. I hope people grokked every usage of the lyric that the title came from - every time the words “don’t stop” were used in that fic it was very deliberate (including the extremely dubious consent sex scene).
one small one in that same fic that I hope someone/anyone caught was this sentence: “He remembered this ground like an old friend, this stained glass landscape.” because Wolfwood remembers the grounds of the orphanage as stained (with his own blood, with the attempts to water the seedlings when he was a kid), and because the ground is glass (sand, silicate) and therefore contains no nutrients, and because of the obvious religious connotation (but which doubles back on the other two as meaning, you know, a bright thing with no substance). I was happy with that sentence.
a bit of a character note that I cling to at all costs is that if I’m writing something post-canon, any version of canon, even my own AUs’ iterations of “canon,” then Vash WILL miss Knives and grieve him constantly. and he’ll feel a lot of guilt about feeling like he shouldn’t grieve Knives, shouldn’t be allowed to feel grief because Knives was so “evil” and Vash “won” and blah blah blah, and that every time someone celebrates the world not ending it is another twist to the knife in his guts. look up pyrrhic victory in the dictionary there’s a mugshot of vash. it just matters to me to always be clear that vash is not actually okay with how it all shook out in the end.
#sf writes#it's so hard to remember anything ive ever written as soon as im asked a question about it#oops#lohikaar#writer ask meme
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I've officially started calling this the "not a sir au" so feel free to block if you don't give a shit and don't wanna see it lmao
Might fuck around this week and redraw in the newer style with and without the giant hoodie lol
Seriously considering keeping the wings cause that and blue hair is my only out of reality indulgence (the design is otherwise pretty true to life honestly) and I just wanna curl up in the fluffy wings and nap all day ngl
That and I like the idea of reinforced personal space alongside opportunities to express with them
It was, like always, an accident.
Captain tried to scamper away--the coward--and somehow broke a floorboard, taking the shirtless guy with him. Wherein they fell down into a storage area with something that didn't agree with a sudden spark.
Completely blowing a fucking hole into the side of the ship just a bit above the waterline. In front of God and everyone.
Nikia screeched, running to the broken floor boards before turning on her heel and dashing under the deck to see the damage.
The shirtless guy was covered in soot and carrying her captain over his shoulders with a distinctly sheepish expression down the hallway. The open door to a storage room hanging open to a view of the open water.
"Holy shit are y'all alright?!?" Nikia panted, face flush as her hands shook.
Shirtless guy grimaced.
"Yeah, we're uh, we're fine, sir. Your captain is just out cold." He shifted his shoulder to bounce her Captain's prone body in demonstration.
"Well... That's good..." She mumbled, face twisting at the ominous sight of waves lapping at the edge of the hole. He looked over his shoulder and winced.
"Oh! Right. Sorry about that. I-I'll get some of the guys to patch it up until you can get to a port and dry dock. No idea how bad the damage actually is."
Nikia grimaced. He was right. There wasn't any telling right now how bad the damage was unless they could examine the hull properly. And just slapping some boards in place wasn't going to be good enough. One rough storm could break the ship for good without proper repair.
"Ah appreciate it... Weren't y'all just fighting us though?" Nikia couldn't help but ask. He laughed.
"Oh yeah! Well, offer still stands." He shrugged.
"You got the authority ta make that kinda offer?" Nikia asked. "Ah'm sure yer captain is nice and all but my boys still fired first. Ain't that rude for pirates or something?" She said, leading the way back up top.
He grinned, a wide beaming smile as he chuckled.
"Yeah, it's not like anyone got hurt... Well, until that. Besides, my crew was getting bored--"
"Ace! Uh--Sir! There you are! I was worried Namur would have to fish you out of the sea!" The man with a pompadour paused just halfway down the stairs, sunlight turning his oak brown hair gold. Nikia looked away, a bit embarrassed that his pretty smile made her feel flustered. 'Ace' was really pretty too, but the soot made him look more like trouble than 'too pretty to talk to'. Although she hadn't been looking at his face much despite this.
"Well as you can see, I'm fine! I was just telling Sir that we can patch up the hole until they can get it repaired." Ace smiled, freckles shifting under the grime in a way that made her snort while looking away. "Oyaji won't mind, right Thatch?"
'Thatch' grinned from the corner of her eye.
"Oh, he definitely won't mind at all! He's taken an interest in your crew after all." Nikia huffed.
"Their stupidity certainly is somethin' to marvel at." She grumbled, stuffing her hands in her hoodie as she stepped lightly up the stairs. "Ah, beans. Forgot the food. EH! GET YA FOOD, DUMBASSES." Nikia called out before turning on her heel and sliding past the two men to get back to the kitchen.
No point in wasting any of it. Though she didn't expect Ace and Thatch to follow just ahead of her goofy ass crew.
Out of politeness, she let them and anyone else that came down serve themselves from what she'd made. At some point the captain rolled awake and got some food while sulking under her glare.
There certainly wouldn't be any leftovers tonight.
--*--
Thatch watched as he ate a rather flavorful potato soup with diced veggies and fish--sea king from the taste of it.
Sir, the chef, ate a slightly different meal. Baked potatoes and greens. No fish in sight. Thatch wanted to ask but the young man made a point to seat himself at the counter with no chair nearby, wings curled around him like a shield from any unwanted interaction. Which was apparently any at all.
There was a soft snort at his side as the captain of this ship settled into place. He was a bit charred and bruised but otherwise in fine spirit, a fresh, unlit cigarette between his lips.
"Ah, you look like a man that wants to talk to our little Sir. Good taste--but good luck with that. He's a bit.. " the man made a sort of awkward spinning gesture with his wrists as he struggled to find the word.
"Introverted?"
"Distant?"
"Intimidating?" Several of the crew piped up quietly with fond smiles.
The large man that had told Sir about what Thatch's crew was doing in their ship shrugged.
"He prefers smaller, familiar company. But he won't turn you away if you ask him something. He's actually quite sweet when you get to know him... Until you mess up." He grimaced.
Yeah... Thatch saw that much.
Resolute, Thatch stood up and started to make his way over only for the young man in question to swiftly finish his meal and take the dishes into the kitchen without even looking back.
Somehow, Thatch felt like Sir knew that he was coming over to talk...
Luckily, he had plenty of opportunities to talk to Sir. After all, Oyaji considered it a matter of honor to house the smaller crew and escort their damaged ship to a competent ship yard for repairs.
It was partially Ace's fault their ship was damaged.
"Gura-hahaha!" Oyaji laughed with a wide grin. "My sons won't mind a few new bunkmates while we take your ship to get repairs. Marco, my first mate, can handle the particulars." Thatch perked up and looked at Marco, subtly gesturing to Sir with a pleading smile. Marco arched a brow in confusion.
"Well, Boro, looks like I'll be bunking with you again." Sir huffed, brushing a wing across the large man's back as he laughed.
"I doubt they're that pressed for space like we were, Sir." Boro laughed.
Thatch mouthed a plea and Marco rolled his eyes.
"As a cook, I suppose you could bunk with Thatch's division." Marco declared with a smile.
"Absolutely not. I'm not a cook for starters." Sir denied. Thatch looked at him in confusion.
"But didn't you cook the food?"
Sir didn't look at Thatch as he responded, his eyes fixed on a far wall as his expression remained sort of annoyed.
"I follow a cook book. That hardly makes me a cook. At best, I reluctantly made food. And that's just cause it was getting depressing seeing them eat raw potatoes and greens cause it was the only thing they didn't burn."
There was a round of awkward and embarrassed shuffling. Boro chuckled with a sheepish grin.
"Sir is the only one that can read our last chef's handwriting so..." He shrugged.
"Look, I don't care where I sleep but if y'all are expecting me to know Jack about shit in the kitchen yer gonna be disappointed." Sir grumbled, his wings puffy and curled forward around his shoulders.
Marco gave Thatch a questioning look but he just grinned back.
He hadn't changed his mind in the least.
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WHAT NOT TO DO WHEN INTERACTING WITH MY BLOG - Customizable Edition
BASICS !
Name / Alias: Ti
Pronouns: Any is fine with me. But default is they/them
Blog type: single muse | Multi-muse | non selective | semi selective | selective | mutuals only | private | other (temporarily mutuals only until i have more free time)
Type of muses: canon | OCs | both | other (specify)
GENERALITIES !
Triggers people MUST tag: nsfw. Animal abuse. Child abuse. Chain mail/messages.
Interest tracker / checker: I have it and it's mandatory | I have it, it's not mandatory but I'm more likely to follow back / interact with the people who fill it | I have one and I prefer it if people fill it in | I have it but it's to people whether to fill it or not | I don't have one | other (specify)
Reblog karma: I practice it | I practice it sometimes | I don't practice it | I always reblog memes from the source | indifferent | other (specify)
Rule passwords: I have one and it's mandatory | I have one and it's optional | I don't have one | I send passwords | don't sent passwords | [space for eventual additions / explanations]
3-5 ESSENTIAL RULES PEOPLE HAVE TO RESPECT
I can be slow on threads. My muse leads me to what they wanna reply to. Sometimes a thread has more of my attention and muse than others. I also work a job and have other hobbies. I won't always be here.
Please tag your NSFW, especially if it's an image. Please no fancy tags, just tag it simple nsfw or something easy. Having fancy ways to tag something that I CANNOT black list it, might get you unfollowed.
Do not send hate of any kind or spread hate of any kind. This can be with call outs, or reblogging things of 'every time this gets reblogged *insert person* dies.' It will get you unfollowed.
3-5 IMPORTANT PET PEEVES TO KEEP IN MIND
People who CONSTANTLY pester me for threads or telling me they replied (I am okay of course if I give you PERMISSION to tell me when you reply. I have one person I asked to tell me when they reply cuz their replies don't always show up on my blog.) I am fine if you ask me about a thread once in a while, but doing it every day or really constant will get you blocked.
Really bad grammar.. I don't mind mistakes, I make mistakes too in my writing. But if it's constant, I'm sorry I can't do it. It bothers me too much. I am WAY more lenient to people who's first language isn't English, but tbh, those people have WAY better grammar than people who is first language.
People who take art as icons and cannot say where they got them from (giving the artist credit.) I'm not saying you have to have a BIG ASS list on your blog of all the credit. But it someone asks who made your icon, please be able to tell the person the artist. Please be able to credit artists some how if asked. (The icons I didn't make I can say who made them when asked on Shigaraki.)
2-5 THINGS THAT WILL LEAD TO INSTANT (SOFT) HARD BLOCKING
I changed it to hard blocking. I do NOT soft block. I either unfollow or hard block. Unfollow = We can still RP together, it's just that your content on your blog bothers me. Hard block = I will no longer talk / RP with you.
Reblogging call outs. I want no drama on my dash, including call outs. Talk it out like adults instead of spreading rumors and bull shit. All y'all claim to be adults but you certainly don't act like it. I've seen my friends called out and everyone blocks them without asking for THEIR side of the story. So yeah, I want none of that on my dash or in general ANY drama. I admit if it's a few times you post drama, I am okay, I get you may need to vent. But if it's a constant thing, I'll hard block.
As stated above, really bad grammar and sentence structure. I cannot read run on sentences. It gives me a head ache. The same with GIANT blocks of texts-- no paragraphs just a big wall. I don't like that either.
People I just don't vibe with. If you give me bad vibes, I'll block you.
People who soft block me or block me, I will block in return.
2-5 THINGS THAT LEAD ME TO UNFOLLOW / SOFTBLOCK A MUTUAL / SOMEONE I INTERACT WITH
This kinda goes with the above mentioned...
People who post really long posts that are NOT RP. Like that color of the sky post. I hate it. Posting long posts that take me a few scrolls to get by might get you unfollowed.
Posting politics.
2-5 REASON YOU DON'T FOLLOW (BACK) SOMEONE
You are a personal blog or all it seems you post is musings and ooc. If I see NO RPs from you, I won't follow. I will also unfollow if I see no RP content from you. That being said, SOME personal blogs I DO follow, esp if they're a friend.
You are a bot / p0rn blog.
I just happened to miss you. It happens. If you RP I usually follow back. And if I don't follow you-- Just RP with me and I probably will notice I am not following you and follow. MY BLOG IS NOT MUTUALS ONLY.
tagged by: I yoinked
Tagging: YOU
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How is your writing process and how/when do you decide to post something? For example...do you have already a lot more chapters/parts written of TASTE or do you finish a chapter and then post it immediately? Btw....LOVE YOOOOOOUU ❤️❤️❤️
HI ANON 🫶🏻 I hope ur taking care. I love u too. v v much. I don't wanna clog the dash like lemme let y'all enjoy the wind up in this site AKJBFEKJ but for those interested:
SO. I'm kinda sick fr because I actually work at 3 chapters at the same time for different works (I usually have 3 WIP at the same time, rn I only have one posted not counting TPD), is anyone else like this? like wtf selene why LMFAOO
Like, my mind fr be a windmill of just like activity so I'll take a night, write for one work, and then take the other night to work on another. So, right now, I'm working on 3 WIP- two are just not yet posted. I've learned from my mistakes of posting a story without WRITING AT LEAST HALF THE THING FIRST LIKE YEAH SELENE UR GONNA BURN URSELF OUT LMAOOOO. Usually, yes. I write a chapter, check it with my draft and then post it. I've been in that mental flop era so I haven't been consistent- TASTE chap 6 was supposed to come more quick but I was kind of just not in the mental space. Usually, I try to update every week- whatever it is that is in my catalogue of works based on how I'm feeling.
I usually free write with a heavy planned schedule for each chapter. So, for TASTE- I have all the chapter names, all the chapter events and quotes + things I want to focus on in that chapter + how I want to tackle character flaws or even highlight them o wow (so that the growth part is much more satisfying, yk?).
I know it's ready to be posted when I feel that it checks off most of what I want the chapter to conclude and also like now I actually go back and reread my chapter I WAS PLAYING GAMES FR WHEN I FIRST STARTED POSTING LMAOO now I really worry about quality and whether or not people enjoy it? I write long chaps so I get real nervous lmao but I'm anxious in general tho so must be a selene thing.
But yeah- kind of messy of a fanfic writer haahhajbfgjebfeb I'm sorry I just came into this game literally in February. I only read fics and worked on my original works and poetry and shit. I'm learning. BUT U GET ME! 🫶🏻
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20 questions tag 🌹
tagged by the lovely @anna-something !!! (:
Rules: Answer 20 questions and then tag 20 people.
Nickname: well my name’s yulin & I feel like thats a weird enough name in itself, its quite asian and most people cant even remember that to start with haha.
Zodiac: Aries, & just to throw it out there, i’m an infp!!!
Height: 160cm?
Last thing I googled: party baby bap dress code LMAO just to remind myself for taipei boom in a few days.
Favorite music artist: not counting b.a.p/kpop.. theres so many… owl city, years and years, stromae, troye, melanie, lana…. etc
Song stuck in my head: the title song of the film ‘our times’ (cutest movie)
Last movie I saw: Your Name (i love all things anime hmu to chat about anime all day everyday)
What am I wearing right now: a pink shirt with the word ‘pink’ on it i love clothing that states itself
Why did I choose my url: i LOVE the rose concept and jongup… and I can totally imagine myself aggressively but lovingly throwing all the roses at jongup
Any other blogs: yes I was SO active on tumblr when I was 13-16 ish I had a soft grudge(still don’t know what that is tbh), pastel, pale, writing, kawaii/japan/cute, and even a gore blog (yes I was very emo)
What did your last relationship teach you: N/A since I never told my crushes how I feel lmao!!! esp since my last crush already had a gf haha I hate my feelings
Religious or spiritual: can’t I choose both? my family is hardcore buddhist and I guess I am too. I used to meditate and I really should continue, haha.
Favourite coloUr: I study in the UK now so this is the correct spelling yesss, and its pink and black, blackpink.
Average hours of sleep: I mean in art uni you really get inspiration at like 4am so usually I don’t sleep until 3,4am which is so bad but, if I have anything on the next day (like actual life) then maybe 1, 2 am.
Lucky number: I don’t understand the concept of a lucky number like?? how do I even choose a number in all the numbers of the universe?
Favourite character: any fictional character? from my favourite ghibl film, San from Princess Mononoke, or, in an anime, the pink-haired girl from Future Diary just bc she has pink hair (I cut my pink hair recently;;cries) and is super sadistic. from books there’s too many aahh.
How many blankets I sleep with: just my one pink duvet. and 10 cute plushies, they dominate my bed. I sleep in the corner.
Dream job: a free-lance artist that makes enough money to support my family who gave up so much $ for me to send me to art uni aaaaaa, realistically its hard, but I hope I can get there one day!
Tagging (you in no way have to do it!) (I’m quite a new BABY blog so I don’t know many blogs on here so I’m sorry if you’ve been tagged 100 times already): @junhongiee @jion-a @daestopiaa @tigerbaby @fluffybbang @ribbon-in-the-rose @b-ap @bap-chalddeok @bangxster @stanbap @happy-daes @daeumie @baphae @s-kydive @siriuslyjongup @damatoki @daehyuns-beautiful-golden-skin @daehnii ♥
#thanks for tagging me!!! this is actually my first tag ive done on here thank u#sorry for taking up so much space on y'all's dash#i love all of you so much i'm always sitting here on tumblr looking at your posts ok#hope you all have a good day#Be Happy#=BAP#<3#tagged#answered
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Puzzle Piece
Chapter 12 of Of Love and Time
Summary: Your sickness takes over. A surprise visitor just might have an unexpected cure. You discover a space filling up that you didn't even know was empty.
Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (no y/n)
Series content: teacher/parent AU, fluff, slow burn, lots of mutual pining, sexual tension, mentions of past trauma (tagged in detail for specific chapters), depictions of violence (nothing explicit, no gore), angst, a dash of hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, Grogu is at the equivalent age of a human 4-year-old and can speak
Notes: Y'ALL. Okay. I seriously need your attention for a sec before you start reading. This chapter right here? This is the chapter. The one I've been waiting to write ever since I thought of this idea, which happened around when I posted chapter 2 or 3. I have poured my entire soul into this one and I am SO HAPPY with it. I fought so hard with myself, wondering if it was ready to post or not, and I'm not sure why, but it's here now and I hope y'all enjoy. I have been dying to share it with you!! But this is where things get tricky and I'll need your help. I'm worried that now that I've written this one, that I might lose motivation for this story. Especially as new fic ideas start to crowd my brain. I'm 100% still writing this fic and seeing it through to the end, fret not, but it's just that chapters might take a bit longer to get out than they have so far. So just pls keep up the love and let me know you're still invested! It'll definitely help with my motivation! Also if any fellow fic writers have any advice for this phenomenon?? It'd be greatly welcomed and appreciated! 🥺
Okay, that's all! Thank you for your attention! Please enjoy this Long Boi and let me know what you think! I'll say this now because I have a feeling I'll be saying it a lot as you all react: you're welcome, and I am sorry. 😜
I'm beyond grateful for all the love you continue to give this story. It means the world to me! I love you all so much! ❤️
As always, taglist is under the cut! Let me know if you'd like to be added!
Chapter content: mention of vomiting, nothing descriptive
“...Din?”
It was hardly a whisper. You were frozen in place, staring at Din, who stood on your porch with several bags cradled in his hands. His brown shoulder bag was also slung across his body. Butterflies filled your gut as if a box filled with them had been opened, releasing them to freedom. You blinked several times to make sure you weren’t hallucinating.
“Are you okay? I… heard you weren’t well.”
The sound of his velvety voice after so long felt like a splash of cool water on your burning face. You took in a gulp of air.
“I-um, yeah, just a little under the weather.” You hated how coarse you sounded, but pushed the thought away and stood to the side, opening the door for him.
“Come in.”
He nodded and made his way through the door. Your mind was racing with questions — the loudest one being how you were supposed to treat this encounter. You stepped toward him after shutting the door and took a breath, gesturing to what looked like every grocery item the planet had to offer.
“What’s all this?”
Din set the bags down before looking back at you.
“I was asked to deliver something to you.”
“Was it the entire grocery store?” You teased, trying to add a little laugh that came out sounding like a dying Loth Cat.
Din reached into his shoulder bag and produced a large piece of yellow poster paper.
“This is from your students.”
Your lips parted as you looked between Din and the paper, your frail hands accepting it from him. The cover read ‘Get Well Soon!’ in very squiggly writing, along with a variety of little drawings — planets, creatures, hearts and other shapes, even some portraits of the artists themselves — surrounding the words. You bit your lip as your heart swelled.
You opened up the card to find fourteen little messages with a signature and drawings next to each one. They wished you well, said they missed you, and sent you soup and other treats via their drawings. It was all so precious. But the message that had you fighting tears was near the bottom on the right side, next to a heart and a familiar-looking drawing of a Blurrg:
“You can count on us too, Miss! Like 1 2 3! We love you, feel better soon! -All of us”
You cupped your mouth with a hand and took in a breath through your nose while you took in the sweet words. Their kindness sent a wave of warmth through you, like a fuzzy blanket tucked around your heart. It was overwhelming. You closed the card and held it to your chest, watery eyes returning to Din.
“Thank you for delivering this. It means a lot.”
“You’re welcome.”
You glanced back down at the pile of bags at Din’s feet.
“So then, what’s up with all that?”
Din looked at the pile as well, gloved hand coming up to scratch his neck.
“I-uh, wasn’t sure what you liked, so I picked up a few different things.”
Your mind went blank. You opened your mouth to say something, but your brain wasn’t producing any words.
“I wasn’t sure what you were sick with, either, so I brought stuff to help different problems.”
“You-... you got all this for me?” you asked, your tone betraying your disbelief.
“Din, you didn’t have to do that-”
“I know.”
His gaze snapped to you, arms snapping to his sides.
“I wanted to.”
You sighed and gave him a weak smile.
“Well, thank you. I… really appreciate it.”
He nodded before picking up a couple of the bags.
“There are some things that need to be refrigerated, could I…?” he jabbed his head towards your living room.
“Oh- yeah, of course. The kitchen’s just through there.” You stepped into the living room and pointed the way for him.
“Thank you.”
Just before you could offer to take care of it yourself, he cut you off.
“Don’t even. I’ll just be a minute.”
You were caught off guard, but recovered after a moment with a laugh and a shake of your head. You tucked the card into the space between your wall and your holo stand and stepped back to the entryway to peek in the other bags. Some crackers, various hydrators, fresh produce, and other such goodies were tucked inside.
Wait- were those your favorite cookies in there? Your brow raised as you eyed the box.
“So what have your symptoms been?”
Your head snapped up as Din re-entered the room, causing it to throb. You squeezed your eyes shut.
“Um, I’ve been vomiting, my head’s hurting, chills, when I stand up I get kinda light-headed. I can’t really tell if I have a fever or not since I’ve been constantly hot and cold.”
Din didn’t answer right away. You heard a tiny beeping sound.
“You’re burning up.”
You opened your eyes and tilted your head. Din just pointed to his helmet.
“Ah, thermal map?”
He nodded.
“Very cool,” you said with a nod. He took a step towards you.
“You know, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone with symptoms like that. It could be dangerous if you faint or fall.”
“I’ll be fine,” you insisted.
He tilted his head in that exasperated way.
“You’re not standing straight, Missy.”
“Pssh,” you scoffed, “sure I am.”
You were wrong. A moment later you were falling over. Din was quick to catch you. You grasped his upper arms to steady yourself.
“Yeah, okay — I’m cashing in my winnings from the race now.”
You looked up at him.
“Let me help you. I just want to make sure you’ll be okay.”
You stared into his visor, unsure of what to do.
“Say the word and I’ll leave. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But… I’m worried for you. If you’ll let me, I’d like to help.”
You couldn’t help feeling guilty; after everything you’d done, he still wants to help you? It didn’t make total sense, but you weren’t in a position to say no. Not when he was right and you were presently too dizzy to stand on your own. And you couldn’t lie — the last thing you wanted was for him to leave.
“... Okay.”
He let out a breathy sigh.
“Thank you. Let’s sit you down now, okay?”
You nodded and let Din walk you over to the couch. He pulled your covers up over your legs. You smiled and invited him to sit next to you. He did so, though he kept himself stiff as a board.
“So when did this start?” he asked.
“Early this morning.” you said, letting yourself hit the back of the couch. You recounted the details of waking up to a nasty surprise and then calling in sick.
“I’m sorry that happened,” he said when you finished. “It sounds familiar to me, though.”
“What do you think it is?”
“My best guess is stress,” he said as he turned his body to face you. “You might’ve put yourself through too much, and now your body’s shutting down and forcing you to rest.”
You scoffed. “Sounds like me.”
A light silence fell over you both. You were grateful it wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward, but the guilt of not contacting him in so long still swirled about in your mind.
“One thing that might help is letting it out. What sort of stress have you been holding?”
You looked at him with raised brows, you brain going through a checklist of what had been bothering you as of late: having feelings for Din, not knowing how to express them, knowing you shouldn’t express them — yet, at least — guilt for leaving him hanging, fear over how he felt about you now, guilt for not telling Gila about what happened and going through whatever process that would jumpstart-
Your stomach churned again. There really was a lot on your mind. You took a breath.
“Well,” you started, “I guess I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking about things. And some of it has been hard to work through.”
He motioned for you to continue.
You bit your lip. He said to let it out, right? What was the use in keeping this in, especially now that Din was right in front of you? You let your tongue take over and say the first thing to come to mind.
“I was scared you were angry with me.”
“What? Why?” He asked with a tilt of his head and a small scoff.
“I shouldn’t have run out on you like that, and I’m sorry I haven’t called or messaged you. I just needed to figure myself out and there’s so much to talk about… I just didn’t know what to do.”
“Hey, wait,” he scooched a bit closer to you. “I don’t blame you for that. Not at all.”
You looked at him. There was no way for you to visually gauge his sincerity, but you didn’t need to — it was in his voice.
“I understand that the circumstances are tricky. I knew that going into it, but I guess I couldn’t help myself.”
You gave him a little smile.
“I am sorry, though,” he continued, “I don’t regret doing it, but I do regret the pain it’s causing you.”
“I don’t regret it either, really, but I do have to report myself to the admins for it. And I just don’t know what that’s going to look like.”
He let out an irritated sigh.
“I’m so sorry, Miss.”
“Hey,” you placed a hand on his where it rested on his thigh. “I might be scared, but I can face the music. I’m just worried about what it’ll mean for you and Grogu.”
He turned his palm up to clasp your hand.
“Don’t worry about us,” he said, visor locked on you. “We’ve seen worse.”
You took in a breath and gave him a small grin.
“See? How does that feel now?”
“A little lighter.”
“Good.”
You squeezed his hand.
“Thank you for listening.”
He nodded.
“So then…” you trailed off, eyes finding his visor again. “Are we okay?”
He bowed his head down to you, scooching closer before sandwiching your hand in both of his.
“Of course.”
You smiled.
“I do think we should have an actual conversation about everything, just so we know we’re on the same page.”
“That sounds good,” he said with another nod. “But let’s wait until you’re better, okay? Wouldn’t want to aggravate your system while it’s healing.”
You grinned.
“Smart idea.”
He caressed your hand with both of his. The feeling reminded you of that night, when he drove you home and told you his name. You remembered how much you wanted to keep holding on. You took a deep breath and squeezed his hand.
Just as you were settling back into silence, your stomach lurched. Your hand flew up to your mouth. Din sprang into action and handed you one of the stray plastic bags. You projected your head into it just in time to let your body release whatever infuriating substance that remained in your stomach. Your throat burned with each heave.
After a moment you felt Din scooch closer to you, gathering your hair behind your head. One hand held it back and the other came to rest between your shoulder blades. His fingers ran slowly back and forth from their position. The sensation was so gentle and warm; it immediately began to ease the tension in your body. You sighed before your body jumped back into its protest.
“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Din whispered.
“Let it all out, I’ve got you.”
After some more coughs and spurts, your breathing evened out. You poked your eyes out from the bag and looked around your messy floor. The sight of discarded gloves and gauntlets had you furrowing your brow.
Your eyes widened as Din’s bare hand held the tissue box out to you.
It was beautiful — large, with thick, defined appendages. Glowing brown skin that had you gasping for breath for reasons unrelated to your health. You took a tissue to wipe off your face and kept your gaze away, a bit grateful for the excuse to hide your flushed cheeks.
After tying the bag shut Din took it from your shivering hands and set it on the floor.
“Let’s lay you back down.”
He gently gripped your shoulders and guided your weary frame back down onto the couch. He removed his cape and draped it onto you, then brought up your covers and tucked them around you.
“I’m going to go take care of this for you real quick, okay? I’ll be back.”
You whispered a hoarse ‘okay’ in response. You stared into his visor and tried to manage a little smile to show your gratitude. He gave your shoulder a small squeeze and stood from the couch. He gathered up all the bags holding the contents of your current and previous episodes from throughout the day and turned back to you.
“Is the trash bin out back?” he asked.
You nodded and pointed behind you.
“By the back door.”
He nodded and walked off. You sighed and rubbed the worn fabric of his cape between your fingers. Despite the lingering embarrassment of the situation, you were happy he was there. Both he and Gila had been right about it being a bad idea to try handling this alone. And his presence was so soothing — like reaching an oasis after spending weeks in the bone-dry desert, moments away from your last breath only to be saved by the relief of sweet water down your parched throat.
With the thought of parched throats, you eyed your water bottle on the ground. But your face immediately scrunched up at the notion of putting more things in your body. You shook your head and pulled Din’s cape over your mouth, closing your eyes and resting your head against the couch. The faint sound of running water filled your ears as you focused on your breathing.
You heard the faint tap of Din’s boots on your carpet before some shuffling, then the sound of plastic being moved about. Moments later the couch sunk beside you as Din sat back down. He brushed a stray hair out of your face before his hand came to rest on your forehead. You sighed and leaned into the contact. His skin was cool against the fresh sweat that covered yours. His thumb traced upward from your eyebrow in a continuous motion. Your muscles relaxed.
“Is that a little better?” came his gentle tone.
You nodded under his hand.
“Good. Just keep resting, okay?”
He replaced his hand with a damp cloth before he stood from the couch. You frowned and cracked your eyes open. Din was opening your living room window, mindful to keep the curtain down to shield you from the sunlight. Once he was finished, he strode across the room once more.
“I’ll be right back,” he called.
You closed your eyes again. The calming sound of a wind chime swaying in the breeze flew through the window. You focused on it to keep from thinking about your stomach.
~~~
Boba finished preparing ingredients for dinner as his comm buzzed in his pocket. It was a message from Din.
‘I’m going to stay here for a while,’ it read, ‘She’s really not doing well and it’s not safe to leave her alone.’
Boba let out a small ‘huh.’ He began typing a reply.
‘Figured it was bad. We’ll take care of the child. Give her our best.’
He moved to pocket his comm when a light bulb went off in his head. He whipped the message feed back up and added another note.
‘Packed you some spare clothes in your sack. Y’know, just in case. Let us know if you two need anything.’
Boba set the comm in his pocket and headed over to where Fennec and Grogu sat on the sofa in the living room, watching a program about the misadventures of some fictional aquatic creature. They both turned to him.
“Any word from Mando?” Fennec asked.
Boba nodded.
“He’s with her now. She’s very sick, so he’ll be staying with her to make sure she’s taken care of.”
“Is Miss gonna be okay?” Grogu asked, wringing his fingers together in his lap. Fennec tugged him into her side.
“She’ll be just fine, kiddo. Promise.”
Boba nodded in agreement and knelt down to look at Grogu before adding,
“And now your papa is there to help, and he gave her the special card you all made. I bet she’ll be better even faster than you think.”
“Really?” Grogu asked with a smile.
“Maybe,” Boba said with a shrug. “It’s always possible.”
Boba gave Grogu a wink, which made him giggle.
“Miss is gonna be better soon,” Grogu said, clenching his hands into fists.
“That’s right. No need to worry, little guy.”
Boba stood and patted Grogu on the head.
“How about a little treat before dinner?”
“His dad wouldn’t be too thrilled about that,” Fennec said between chuckles.
“Well, he’s not here now, is he?” Boba replied, booping Grogu’s nose while giving him a mischievous smile.
“Shh, I won’t tell,” Grogu whispered, putting a little finger to his mouth.
The three of them shared a laugh. Boba lifted Grogu into his arms and the trio made their way into the kitchen to peruse their options.
~~~
You blinked your eyes open and immediately winced at the pain returning to your head. Din was sitting next to you, head facing the holofeed. He turned to you as you stirred.
“Hey,” he said.
He had removed his boots and the rest of his armor, the pieces sitting in a neat pile against the wall.
“Did I fall asleep?” you asked, removing the now warm cloth from your face.
“Yeah, for a little bit. How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” you said with a little yawn. “My head’s still killing me, though.”
He nodded.
“It might be a good time to try these out.”
He reached behind him and produced a box of plain crackers. You pulled the covers over your mouth.
“Don’t worry, these are meant to stay down. It’ll be a good start for your stomach.”
You looked up at him. He solidified his words with a nod.
“We’ll need to get some food in you before you can take any medicine.”
You furrowed your brow before slowly nodding and sitting up. He opened the box and handed you a packet of crackers. You took one out and examined it. Big salt crystals decorated its surface, and little holes created a neat pattern in its center.
“It’ll be okay. I’ve got you.”
You glanced at Din before taking a deep breath and biting into the cracker. Its salty flavor pleased your taste buds, and you didn’t feel any dread from your body as you swallowed.
“It’s good,” you said as you finished it off.
“I’m glad. Grogu likes these a lot. I honestly think they’re too salty.”
“The salt is the best part!” you said with a little giggle, taking out another cracker.
He laughed and shook his head.
“Just be careful, don’t eat them too fast. I’m guessing you haven’t had much food today.”
You shook your head.
“We’ll get you a real meal after your body adjusts to those. Once you’ve had a few more, try one of these.”
He reached behind him again and pulled out a bright green drink in a tiny bottle.
“This is filled with electrolytes, it’ll help replenish your body. It’s also meant to be easier on your stomach.”
“Okay,” you took the little bottle and placed it in your lap next to your crackers.
“Thank you again for all this, Din. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”
He gently placed his hand on your knee.
“It’s my pleasure, Miss.”
You stared at his hand. Large and strong, easily taking up the entire surface area of your knee with space to spare. Bones protruded through the skin as his fingers moved about. A similar sense of confusion flooded your senses, just like when you saw his chin. Was this a sight you deserved to see? What made him trust you enough to be so vulnerable? You looked up at him.
“I know we said we were going to wait, but… can I ask you something?”
His visor locked onto you, his hand going stiff on your knee.
“Okay.”
“Why me?”
“What do you mean?” he asked back with a tilt of the head.
“I mean… I guess I’m just wondering how you trust me enough to do things like this-” you motioned to his bare hand before looking back up.
“We haven’t known each other very long, and I know gestures like this are a big deal, so I don’t quite understand it.”
He didn’t answer right away. A little ‘tch’ sound bounced out of his modulator before he shifted to face you.
“Let me tell you, then.”
He took his hand away from your knee and tucked your hair behind your ear.
“For me, trusting someone isn’t so much a matter of time. It’s a matter of action. Of words. I choose to trust someone after seeing for myself what makes them who they are, and how they treat other people. With you…”
His knuckles ran up and down your cheek. Your heart rate increased as electricity flowed through your face. You were blown away by how soft his skin was. You gulped and tried to focus on his words instead of the way his touch clouded your mind.
“With you, I knew I could trust you after talking to you about Grogu those first few times. It didn’t take long, because he’d come home and rave about you. And I trust his judgement. Then I’d go see you and you’d be the same way about him. That told me you genuinely cared about him.
As time went on and I saw more of you, I noticed more things that I liked. And I wanted to start trusting you… with myself.”
Your mind went blank. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. Your tongue ran on without you, your brain too tired to think before speaking.
“Din,” you breathed, “how does someone as broken as me give you the confidence to do that?”
He sat straighter.
“What? Broken?”
A little shock pierced your gut. He sounded angry. You looked down at your crackers.
“I just- I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but people don’t typically stay around me for very long. Gila’s the one exception but more often than not, I’m more of a pit stop.”
You took a breath.
“Something about me makes people leave. I don’t know what, but I don’t want to disappoint you by not being capable of being constant or long-lasting. I don’t want you to regret any of these choices.”
You stared at his hand again, memorizing every curve of the bones, every little spot that decorated the beautiful skin. You took it all in as if this would be the last time you’d ever get to see it.
“Hey- look at me.”
You didn’t move. You couldn’t bear to look. Your chest fell with the heft of your words, a dull pain seeping through. He called your name as he grabbed your chin and brought your face up. You froze in his grip.
“There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing you’ve done has made you deserve to be treated badly. I need you to understand that.”
You didn’t say a word.
“And I know it hurts,” he went on, “but you can’t let those experiences stop you from letting people in. Believe me.”
All you could do was stare as he continued, hand leaving your chin and coming around to cup your cheek.
“You are an incredible person. Strong, smart, determined, feisty,” he let out a little laugh.
“… Breathtaking… in every sense of the word.”
He paused with a sigh, thumb sweeping across the apple of your cheek.
“Just because some people couldn’t handle all of that does not mean you have done anything wrong. Those traits are part of what makes you you, things I have grown to... appreciate.”
You had a feeling that last word wasn’t what he wanted to say, but you didn’t push it. You were helpless under his gaze, mind completely blank. He whispered your name, soft and tender, like he was keeping it safe on his lips. The sound of it filled your heart with warmth and life, as if a dormant volcano was suddenly erupting in your soul. His hand fell to your shoulder before he continued.
“I choose to trust you because of the person you’ve shown to me. All of those things, plus how kind, loyal, caring, selfless…”
His hand squeezed your shoulder, his other one moving to cover one of yours in your lap. How was his skin so soft? The contact sent a blaze through your every nerve.
“... and so, so much more, that you are. You deserve to have people in your life that recognize and uplift these things about you — don’t forget that.”
Those words pierced you, as if you’d been shot in the heart with a blaster. You hadn’t expected any of this. Your chest squeezed as tears pricked behind your eyes.
“You want to know what amazes me most about you?”
You didn’t speak. You hardly breathed.
“How you choose to love people. Even though life has been cold to you, you go into it with warmth. You treat everyone with the things you weren’t even getting. That kind of love is so rare. Don’t you see, that’s what defines you — the way you choose to love despite what you’ve been through. Does that really sound broken to you?”
A tear spilled from your eye. Your mind was swimming. Your heart was pounding. You stared at Din as he tilted his head closer to you, his thumb running across your knuckles. You didn’t know what else to do other than lean forward, your head falling onto his shoulder. His muscles tensed before settling again under your touch, his hands coming to rest on your back. He quietly cleared his throat before pulling you a little closer.
It was as if he’d taken your abused heart and kissed the bruises that decorated it. Not getting rid of them, but easing the ache, and then held it close to protect the fragile organ from further harm.
He held you in his arms like the most precious of gems: a gentle and firm caress that had you sighing against the fabric of his flight suit. You mumbled a little ‘thank you,’ and he squeezed your frame.
You’d never felt so at home before. He was so warm. So safe. His being encased you in a shield of soft affection that you never wanted to part from. You surrendered to the sensation, your hand coming up to rest on Din’s chest.
This was different from when he’d held you as the two of you put Grogu to bed — this was yours. Right now, he was all yours.
And you were all his.
~~~
“Yeah, I think that’s doable,” Gila said into her comm. She jotted a note down as she spoke.
“What other ideas did you have?”
A small knock proceeded Kos entering her office, waving a hand in apology. She nodded at them.
“Someone wants to see you, says it’s urgent.”
Gila scrunched her brow, ducking her head towards her comm.
“Hey- I’m going to have to call you back.”
After a brief goodbye she hung up the call and asked Kos to send in the visitor. Her brow shot up and her mouth made an ‘o’ as they walked in. Kos closed the door to her office, leaving the two alone.
“I didn’t know you were still here — what can I do for you?”
The visitor walked up and took a seat across from Gila, hands folded together in their lap.
“I need to file a report.”
~~~
You weren’t sure how long you stayed in Din’s arms before your stomach growled. To your dismay he nudged you back up and encouraged you to keep eating, separating from you aside from a hand on your leg.
Once you’d had a few more crackers and downed the little bottle of green liquid, energy slowly began to flow through your system. The dried layers of sweat on your face became more apparent when you scratched your nose. You grimaced.
“I feel kinda gross,” you said, “I think I’m okay enough to take a shower.”
“Sounds good, in the meantime I’ll get some food ready for you.”
You narrowed your eyes at him.
“On one condition,” you held up a finger. He tilted his head.
“You make sure to eat, too. Can’t be taking care of me if you’re not also cared for.”
He scoffed.
“Says you, Missy.”
You tried to keep down a chuckle and fix him with a look.
“But don’t worry. I will.”
You smiled and poised your feet on the ground. You took a deep breath and held onto Din’s offered hand to hoist yourself up, your other one holding his cape to your frame. You wobbled a bit before finding your footing, your mind still going foggy from the movement.
Din stood with you and gathered your things into a bag.
“You okay to walk?” he asked.
“I think so,” you said, wrapping the cape around your shoulders. You took a few small steps towards the stairs, Din staying just behind you.
You made it to the staircase before you needed to stop, your body still weak and heavy. Din placed a hand on your back.
“Can you make it up?”
You took your breaths slow and deep, never feeling like you were getting enough air. You glanced up at Din with a small shrug. He stepped closer and wrapped his arm around you.
“May I?”
You nodded. But you didn’t expect him to scoop you up in his arms, balancing the bag of items in his hand while his arm came under your knees to hold you secure. You let out a little squeal; he snickered.
Your head landed in the crook of his neck. The fabric of his cowl was softer against your skin than his flight suit. Half of your face was shielded by the lip of his helmet, cloaking your vision in partial darkness. The slight turbulence that came with each step had you slightly bumping up and down in Din’s grasp, the motions relaxing you when paired with the heat from his body.
Your mind wandered to your dreams, where your head ended up in this spot almost every time. In a home, in a park, in other places you didn’t recognize. No matter the context, you gravitated to it. Now that you were actually here, it was no wonder your subconscious wanted it so badly. You fit perfectly, like this spot was made for your head to rest on. You smiled and nuzzled into the cowl, breathing in that crisp scent that always accompanied Din’s presence.
His neck muscles flexed when he swallowed. He gave you a little squeeze.
When you two made it up the stairs, you pointed the way to your room, reassuring him with a giggle that he could enter when he hesitated at the door. He set you down by your bed and began placing your essentials on your nightstand. You tossed the cape on the bed and started walking towards the bathroom.
“I’ll go start on the food now,” Din said when he finished. “Is there anything you’d like me to bring from downstairs?”
You stopped to face him and thought for a moment. You briefly remembered that cookie box you spotted and bit your lip.
“Don’t worry, I’ll bring the cookies.”
Your wide eyes snapped to him, and he laughed. He doubled over, hand on his knee, and he laughed.
There it was. The belly laugh you’d been aching to hear. Nothing was covering it up, nothing at all interrupted the path between his laugh and your ears. It only lasted for a moment but it had you gasping for air.
It was beautiful.
The ethereal sound of his baritone hysterics reverberated through every inch of your body, sending goosebumps up your arms. Your cheeks ached from the stretch of your smile.
“How did you know?” you asked, glee pouring out of your voice. He took a second to catch his breath.
“I saw you looking at them earlier. Guess I made a good choice.”
You giggled.
“Anything else?”
You shook your head.
“I think I’m good. But bring anything you want, too, and please use whatever you need. Just make yourself at home.”
“Thank you,” he said with a nod before making his way out.
You crept into your bathroom and popped into the shower. The warm water did little to help your situation. Your body was already so hot, but a cold shower would only exacerbate your symptoms. Though washing away the sweat and grime from the day still filled you with a sense of refreshment. You took your time, washing off every surface and letting the steam cleanse your sinuses.
There were moments when you’d talk yourself into staying in there just a bit longer, so that Din would have more time to eat in peace.
When you were done you changed into a clean set of pajamas and wrapped a towel around your dripping hair. Your body felt a little stronger than it had beforehand, which you were grateful for. Though your steps were still wobbly as you made your way to the door and opened it.
You stopped.
There was Din, sitting on the edge of your bed. A bowl of food sat on your bedside table behind him. The faint daylight from the window bounced off the beskar, making the chrome surfaces glitter like crystal. The image of him here, in your bedroom, having made you a meal, stirred something in you. You wanted to cry.
What gave him the right, you wondered. What gave him the right to bring you to your knees just by existing.
It was as if someone had reached into the recesses of your mind and pulled out your idea of what perfection looked like, then molded it into reality before your eyes. It seemed so natural to have him here, being part of your home. You wondered how you were ever able to live in this room alone, much less the whole house. After this, you never wanted to do that again. A small huff left your lips.
Shit, you thought.
Oh.
Shit.
Shit shit shit.
Your head began to spin and your hand clenched around the doorframe. You leaned over, your free hand gripping the air as your legs began to give out.
Din looked up and immediately made his way to you, arms extended in caution. Your eyes never left him.
“Are you okay?”
You blinked as you looked into his visor. Your chest heaved with short breaths. You nodded quickly, not trusting your words to dismiss his worry. He was not convinced.
“Are you sure? Come here.”
He wrapped his arms around you and stood you up straight. He supported your frame as he brought his hand to your forehead, pressing the back of it against your freshly cleaned skin. Your eyes didn’t move from where they stared into the black abyss.
“At least you don’t feel feverish anymore. Let’s get you some food.”
You let him lead you to the bed with his hands on your shoulders.
He helped you settle in. You pulled his cape over your legs before laying against the headboard and letting him put your covers over you. He handed you the bowl. You stared at his figure: broad and strong. Hands capable of just as much gentleness as they were of wrangling bounties. The stories those hands could tell, you thought. You wanted to hear them. You took a couple deep breaths, filing away your thoughts in favor of maintaining at least some of your composure.
You tapped the bed next to you, inviting Din to sit with you. He hesitated, looking between you and the spot before rounding the bed. He stopped again and looked at you. You smiled and nodded, tapping the spot again. He slowly lowered himself down, stretching his legs out beside yours and folding his hands in his lap. The extra weight on the bed had you feeling secure; you smiled.
“Thank you for making this,” you said as you looked at the food.
It was so colorful; Din had created a soup with a clear broth, noodles, and plenty of veggies swimming with what looked like Bantha meat. You recognized most of these ingredients from the grocery bags he’d brought with him.
“I hope you like it. It usually helps me when I’m not well.”
You took a bite. Your eyes went wide.
Warmth encompassed your mouth and spread throughout your body. The combination of flavors from the produce and the perfectly prepared Bantha marched in a colorful parade around your taste buds.
Tears welled in your eyes. It had been so long since you felt this sensation.
“Is it okay?” came Din’s quiet question beside you. You nodded profusely as you swallowed.
“It’s amazing!”
You took another bite, a smile growing despite you trying to chew. Din chuckled.
“Now don’t go too fast, your stomach is still fragile.”
You nodded again. You’d forgotten about that. You slowed down the pace and put your spoon down in the bowl. You looked over at Din.
“Did you eat?”
“Yes ma’am,” he said with a laugh. “I had some soup downstairs.”
“That’s good,” you replied with a nod.
The two of you sat in a small silence. You took a couple more bites of your food. Even though the silence was comfortable, you started worrying that Din might be bored.
“I don’t have a holoconnection in here,” you started, ”but I do have a data pad if you want to watch something… or something.”
He hummed.
“Is there something you’d like to watch?”
“I don’t watch too many things nowadays,” you started, “but there is this one show I found that’s pretty funny. I just started it not too long ago.”
“Let’s do that,” he said, “it’ll probably help get your mind off things.”
You smiled and reached down to retrieve your data pad from your bedside, a hand keeping the soup stable on your lap. Din reached for the data pad, offering to put on the show for you while you continued eating.
“What’s it called?”
“Parks and Recreation.”
He tilted his head toward you.
“I know, it’s a weird title. But I promise it’s funny.”
He huffed and pulled it up, setting the data pad down between his legs and yours.
The next episode in your lineup played. You and Din watched along as you ate your soup. You glanced over every now and then to see if you could gauge a reaction from him.
As the episode went on you got worried; he had been letting out little laughs here and there, but you had no idea what was coming. When Ron Swanson got back together with Tami II again and things got weird, you wondered if he’d be turned off from it.
On the contrary; he laughed all the more. He asked questions. He would point and provide commentary, giving you looks that you swore you could match actual expressions to. You grinned and released the tension in your muscles. He could be very animated when he wanted to. You loved it.
You set the bowl down on your side table once you’d emptied its contents, you and Din having watched three episodes at that point. He paused the show when the third one ended and pointed towards your table.
“There’s some medicine next to your water bottle. It’ll help with your head.”
You gulped it down along with another tiny green bottle that Din had set there for you. You settled back down with a full stomach, a sigh escaping your lips.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Better,” you said as you smiled at him. “Thanks to your expert care.”
He chuckled.
“I’m glad.”
He lifted his hand, keeping it still in the air for a moment before placing it on your thigh.
“I… I was worried.”
Your heart swelled at the crack in his voice. He ran his thumb back and forth on your leg. When you looked up at him, his gaze was fixed on his hand.
“I’m sorry to have worried you, Din. I promise I’ll be okay.”
“I know,” he said, looking up. “You’ll be just fine.”
You smiled. A pleasant silence cloaked you both for a moment before you heard a faint beep.
“Oh-” Din breathed as he pressed the side button on his helmet.
“Everything okay?” you asked.
“Yes, Fett’s just updating me on Grogu.”
“Ah,” you started, “how is he?”
“He was worried about you, too. Made sure to tell him that you’d be okay before I left.”
“Aw, that angel,” you whispered as your heart squeezed.
“He wanted to come along, you know. Almost stowed away in my bag.”
You threw your head back and laughed. The image of Din putting on his bag and then opening it to see why it was extra heavy, only to see Grogu’s little pleading face poking out filled you with joy.
“That’s so sweet,” you said when you caught your breath. “I’m sorry to be worrying everyone so much.”
He shrugged.
“That just means we care.”
You smiled.
The two of you jumped into conversation after that, talking more about Grogu and the rest of Din’s little family. He told you more about how they all met and stayed together after Din’s ship was destroyed — what you now realized was the ‘Crest’ in Grogu’s family drawing — and Grogu went off with the Jedi, and then how they decided to continue raising him after he came back.
He told you about having to take an important pit stop on Mandalore before that because he’d wound up with the darksaber. The very same darksaber that gave him claim over the Mandalorian throne. How in the hell did that happen, you asked in utter disbelief. He told you about his face-off with Moff Gideon, and how he’d tried to ditch the glowing sword shortly after getting it.
“The only way they’d let me out of it is if I got publicly challenged and defeated. Bo Katan, the woman who wanted it, insisted the people of Mandalore witness my royal ass-kicking.”
You laughed.
“What even is your life?” you teased.
“A mess,” he deadpanned. You laughed harder.
~~~
Time checked out as the conversation went on. You were enthralled by Din’s tales, no matter how much he tried to play them down. You shared a few of your stories as well. The hours passed you both by, the sun slowly disappearing from the sky and bathing your room with its glowing farewell.
When the night arrived, Din got up to turn the lights on. That’s when reality returned to your mind.
“I don’t know how long you were planning to stay, I know it’s getting late. Do you need to head home?”
Your voice was hesitant. Your health aside, you just didn’t want Din to leave. The idea of being alone in your house after today was almost painful.
He returned to the bed and sat on the edge, right next to your legs.
“I told Fett and Fennec I’d be here for as long as you need me. They’re fully prepared to look after Grogu for however long that is.”
He took your hand in his.
“How do you feel?”
“Fine,” you answered, “I’m still feeling some of it but it’s not as bad as it was earlier.”
“Good,” he said.
The two of you looked at each other for a moment. You weren’t sure what to say next. He probably wouldn’t feel comfortable spending the night, you thought. Plus, he wouldn’t be able to take off his helmet to sleep if he did that.
“I understand if you’d prefer I didn’t stay, but you might relapse in the night.”
Your brow shot up.
“You- you’d be okay with staying?”
“Of course,” he said, squeezing your hand. “LIke I said, I’ll be here for as long as you need. If you’re comfortable with that.”
“I was just worried about you,” you said. “I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“I’ll be fine,” he said with a little laugh.
“If you want to sleep without the helmet, you’re welcome to the guest room. I want you to be able to rest well.”
“I don’t think I would if I couldn’t be here in case something happens,” he said slowly. “But I will do that if you’d prefer it.”
You shook your head with a smile.
“Do you want to wear something more comfortable? I might have something in my closet-”
“It’s okay,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I have some clothes. How about this, I’ll go change while you wash up and we’ll meet back here?”
You nodded. Din helped you stand before taking your dishes downstairs. You walked over to the bathroom and took care of your nightly routine. You looked in the mirror. Your hair flopped about, frizzy and unkempt since you didn’t brush it after showering. Your face was still a little pale, and your clothes hung loose on your frame. Not the way you imagined spending a night with this man for the first time, but you were comforted with his presence all the same. You took a deep breath and headed back to the bedroom, grateful that you were too tired to overthink any of this.
You settled back in your bed. When you heard Din enter the room you turned to the door with a smile, which was quickly replaced with parted lips.
He had changed into a pair of sweats and a zip-up jacket that was half open, leaving his neck exposed to you. Heat rushed to your face; this was more skin than you’d ever seen from him.
He made his way over to the other side of your bed, asking silent permission before settling down beside you. You tried to not let your eyes linger on his collar bone peeking out from the neckline of his shirt. Especially as it flexed when he moved.
As per usual, you failed. You bit your lip and took a deep breath.
“I don’t know if you want this, but there is one little thing we’ve forgotten about.”
Din’s tone was deep. It sent a shiver down your spine. You furrowed your brow, unsure of what he was referring to. You ignored the directions your mind wanted to go in, quietly clearing your throat.
“And what’s that?”
Din kept his visor locked on you as he reached behind him, ducking down to fetch something off the ground next to the bed. He resurfaced with the box of cookies. The sight of it made you gasp.
“Oh yeah, I forgot about those!”
He chuckled.
“You’re probably okay to have a couple. But be careful.”
You nodded and Din opened up the box, pulling out the tray that held the sugary disks within. You grinned as you took one out and ate a bite, relishing the sweet sensation that took over your mouth.
“Good?”
“Mhm,” you mumbled with a nod. Din chuckled before taking out a cookie for himself and setting the tray between you both.
You kept your gaze fixed on your lap when you heard the familiar hiss of his helmet. The gesture filled you with warmth rather than anxiety after your earlier discussion. You smiled and pulled out a second cookie.
“What made you pick these out?” you asked.
“Hard to say,” he replied as he also reached for a second cookie. “I was looking around in the store and these just looked good.”
The clarity of his voice was a bit jarring. It was soothing to your ears. Though you were surprised; all this time you thought the modulator roughed up his voice, but the raspy undertone was still evident outside of it. You chanced a glance in his direction. Familiar pink lips parted to make way for a set of strong teeth to bite into the cookie, a small glimmer of tongue poking out to lick away a crumb. You looked away, face hot once more.
“Well, you’ve got good- good taste.”
You downed the cookie, stuffing it in your mouth to keep from stumbling over yourself again. You declined a third one when offered, causing Din to put them away and set the box aside. You took a sip of your water before settling deeper into your bed.
“I should probably sleep propped up tonight, yeah?” you asked.
Din nodded.
“Probably best. Here, sit up for a second-”
You did as he asked and he leaned over to help adjust your pillows, fluffing a couple of them up before nodding at you to lay back down. It was the perfect position. You looked at him with a smile.
“Thank you, Din. Not just for this, but for everything today,” you paused and let out a sigh. Your voice grew groggy as fatigue settled in.
“I’d probably be in much worse condition if you weren’t here.”
He tilted his head, a hand coming to rest on your head.
“Thank you for letting me help.”
Your smile grew as you took a deep breath, your heavy eyes staring into the vast abyss of Din’s visor. You looked for where his eyes were resting behind their black shield.
You wanted to know what color they were.
You covered your mouth as you yawned, stretching your body out for a second before snuggling deeper into your position. You pulled Din’s cape up over your chest before pulling your blankets over it.
“I’ll be here if you need anything, okay?” Din whispered, leaning in closer to you.
You nodded, nuzzling your head into his hand.
“Good night, Din.”
“Sweet dreams… Miss.”
~~~
Din kept his hand in place until he was certain you’d fallen asleep. As your breaths grew deeper and your eyes ceased their squinting, he stroked the skin of your hairline with his thumb before slowly removing his hand and sitting up.
He let out a sigh, a weight leaving his shoulders at the sight of your peaceful face. He leaned back until his helmet thumped against your headboard and took a deep breath. Worry had plagued his mind long before Gila told him you were sick. That information only made it more intense. But what mattered was that you were okay now, in every sense.
He’d make sure of it.
It was strange; the only other being to make him worry this much was Grogu. It had been that way for so long. And then out of nowhere, you came along and changed everything. Din tried to figure out when you had crept past his walls and into his heart, but he couldn’t. It was almost as if you were always there.
He played through the memories of the day: the moment he first saw your face he’d almost dropped all the groceries. You looked so fragile, as if the slightest gust of wind would just carry you away. He wanted nothing more than to hold you. He remembered your talk on the couch, how shocked he was to hear how you felt about yourself. How could someone like you not see what he sees?
That was another thing — Din wasn't very good with words. He shocked himself with how he spoke to you in that moment. Something about the situation inspired those words to flow, and it had all been so natural.
Adoring you was so natural. He loved it.
He recalled carrying you up the stairs; the small weight of your head in the crook of his neck… it felt so right. As if your embrace was the puzzle piece he didn’t know he was missing. He didn’t want to let you go.
His thoughts continued to wander, thinking back to past moments he spent with you. Moments spent hearing about you when Grogu would tell him about his day at school. Moments of a joy he didn’t know was possible when the two of you would talk, or explore the night sky. Moments of annoyance when Fett and Fennec would point out how obvious his feelings were.
But they were right.
He wouldn’t be this open with you if it wasn’t true. He wouldn’t be doting on you this much if it wasn’t true. He wouldn’t be considering the current thoughts in his mind if it wasn’t true.
What your face would look like… if he were looking at you with his own eyes.
Din leaned up and shifted his position to face you. Your chest rose and fell with each breath you took, your face tranquil. He wondered what you might be dreaming about. He smiled under the helmet. Maybe you were running around with your students like you did at the zoo and at Grogu’s birthday party. Maybe you were beating up drunk assholes. Maybe you were holding Grogu in your arms.
Maybe Din was holding you both in his, like he did in his own dreams.
He shook the image away. Wishful thinking at best, he thought to himself. But it didn’t stop the desire he had. Din closed his eyes and gathered his bravery. He brought his hands up to his helmet. The seal hissed as he lifted it off and placed it in his lap. After another breath, he opened his eyes. All at once, the air left his lungs.
He already thought you were stunning, but… He’d truly been missing out.
Your features were so much clearer, so much more defined. Your skin was soft, that much he knew by then, but now he could see that. And he could see how your lashes curtained over your cheeks, how your hair cascaded over the pillows, how your adorable nose twitched every now and then as you slept. The natural palette of your existence was unlike any set of colors he’d ever seen before. It was definitely preferable to the blue tint his helmet placed on the world. Tears teased their presence behind Din’s eyes as a smile stretched across his face.
Damn… he wanted to see your eyes. Wanted to look into them with his own.
And damn, did he want to kiss you.
But not like this.
Your guard had been lower today, the filter he suspected you’d been keeping around him essentially gone with your strength. He didn’t want to take advantage of that. No, if he was ever so lucky as to kiss you, you’d both be involved.
Instead he set his helmet to the side and leaned down, cheeks growing warm when he stopped just above you. He took in the expression on your face before closing his eyes and gently pressing his forehead against yours. He took in a sharp breath through his nose. Every muscle in his face clenched together. His eyes squeezed more tightly shut as he took in the sensation of his bare skin touching yours. It was the most minimal of contact, but it still sent his mind spinning.
He lifted his head and slowly opened his eyes to see you, expression unchanged aside from a small smile pulling at your lips. Din grinned at the sight, and said the words he'd wanted to say as you fell asleep:
“Sweet dreams, my dear.”
***
taglist: @dincrypt @anrimdjarin @kodye1018 @persie33 @janebby @allmahfeels @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @onomatopoetic-aesthetic @queen-since-97 @tobealostwanderer @darlingotaku @fangirlalexia @justdrawings101 @bluemacaron @onebrownoneblue @440mxs-wife @what-iwish-you-knew
#the mandalorian#the mandalorian fanfiction#din djarin#din djarin x f! reader#din djarin x you#din djarin x reader#mando x you#grogu#slow burn#of love and time#fluff#my writing
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Defy Your Authority: Chapter 4
Read on AO3.
Part 3 here.
Part 5 here.
Summary: David Rose voice: Oh, my god!
Words: 3200
Warnings: dude
Characters: Kylo Ren x Reader
A/N: First: Thank you to @bastila-ren and @elmidol for their beta-kindness.
I'M ALIVE. I got super burned out at my job, took 5 weeks of FMLA, got incredibly depressed, but now I'm back! Very thankfully, my COVID symptoms were extremely mild. Thank you very very much for your well-wishes and your concerns.
I wish I could express enough apology for my lack of activity, but hopefully uploading a chapter is thanks enough. You all have been so supportive and kind to me. I am SO thankful and appreciative of everything y'all offer me!
(as a side note: I know some people do not like dude, that it throws them out. I am very sorry, but in the politest way possible: I am not going to stop using it. I like it too much.)
I also hope you enjoyed the chapter! God I wonder what's going to happen next chapter. I just don't know.
Love you all so much <3
“Piece of shit.”
Growling, you tugged out another panel from the silencer’s dash. At this point, about a dozen slats of buttons boxed you into the pilot’s seat, crowding you in the cockpit. All of them looked flawless upon inspection, and this new one was no exception. Wires were attached and the circuits were complete, every switch was grounded. You’d gone over a handful of systems already, trapped in this cockpit for hours. The silencer’s refusal to function made no sense. There had to be something you were missing.
The memory of smoke and flames licked at the perimeter of your mind. Yeah, there was a lot you were missing.
Pain burrowed, opened a well in your chest, and you shook your head, rubbing your tired face. There wasn’t time to think about anything else. Sitting forward, you started reattaching the panels to the console. You needed to focus on this. Even though the answer to where you’d go and what you would do once you were finished remained nebulous. Even though you were now apparently unknown and unloved by almost everyone in the universe, including the one man you’d waited on for months.
You caught a sigh in your chest, exhaling into your palms, shutting out the urge to cry. Crying right now was a waste of time. You still had about fifty systems to check, and you’d only read through about half of Kylo’s post-flight novella. Swallowing, you grabbed your datapad from the seat and flipped to the report, forcing yourself through the urge to skim.
It wasn’t like you weren’t interested. Normally this sort of thing was like a buffet for your freakish little brain. But you kept tasting embers on your tongue. Kept seeing your crew--completely unarmed, helpless fuel outpost workers--drowning in destruction. Kept hearing Hux’s voice: Multiple Resistance fighters… Heat gripped your neck, clogged your throat. Multiple fighters for a tiny station. Multiple fighters against three soft, fleshy bodies.
The First Order was not your creed; just your employer. The machine of war had always been an inconvenience to the prestige of working on elite starfighters. You knew that the loss of three cogs was nothing to that machine. In the past, it’d been nothing to you too. But you’d never eaten meals or laughed with or supported those lost cogs when they’d cried. This loss wasn’t just to war. This loss was horrifically and uniquely yours.
“Stop.” You shook your head, tossing your datapad back on the seat. You’d finish putting the console back together, then you’d figure out what to do next.
Jaw tight, you grabbed another panel, and your grip slipped. The sharp edge sliced your palm where the wood had lanced you earlier.
“Fuck!” You dropped it and clutched your hand, seething while you tried to squeeze away the agony. Everything from your fingers to your wrist throbbed, and your chin quaked, tears burning your sight. “Fuck! Fuck!” Snarling, you kicked the panels at your feet. “Fuck!”
The thin cut felt like a sobbing gash. You tore off your jacket and wrapped the sleeve around your palm, wincing when you tightened it to the wound.
“Stupid fucking panels!” you growled, kicking the panels again. “Stupid fucking ship, stupid fucking Kylo, stupid fucking Resistance!” The final kick dented a panel, popped off a shiny button. “Gods!”
You covered your face in your jacket and screamed until your throat crackled, until your lungs were dry. Head spinning, you drew in a breath and screamed again, stomping the floor until dizziness dropped you into the pilot’s chair. Warmth glowed at your cheeks, leaked down your back. Tremors rippled to your toes as you took in a long, steadying breath, exhaling in reluctant relief.
You considered sitting there forever. But it only took two seconds for you to remember how Kylo also sat in this chair thinking of and dealing with everything that wasn’t you before you grunted and climbed out of the cockpit.
The rest of the hangar seemed wholly unconcerned or otherwise ignorant to your tantrum. Wiping your eyes, you hopped to the ground, wagging off the lingering fury in your limbs. Maybe you just needed a walk. You cleared your throat and kept your hand clutched to your chest, the whispering ache pulsing in rhythm with your heart.
In all the hours you’d been in the cockpit, the Steadfast had continued to orbit Orinda. Xi-class shuttles whirled beyond the hangar entrance--probably staffed with crew collecting reconnaissance from whatever the Resistance left behind from the attack. Your feet carried you to the fuzzy blue edge of the magnetic shield’s barrier, meters from vacant space. A quiet hum resonated from its perimeter through your soles.
You gazed into the galaxy. Orinda was a glimmering grain of sand, adrift in the celestial trenches. A fuel outpost turned graveyard. An acceptable casualty of the Resistance. Another home where you couldn’t return. That whispering ache rumbled to a hiss and cast itself over your skin, raking it over with misery, with exhaustion. Your chin quivered. The only place you could think to sleep was the silencer. Eyes falling to the floor, you turned back to the hangar.
“My quarters.”
You squealed and jumped, clapping your hands to your chest. Feet away stood Kylo Ren.
“Shit!” you said, exhaling in relief. “How the hell do you do that?” When he said nothing, you continued, “Like, sneak up on me like that.”
“You’re not perceptive.”
You frowned. “Okay, well…” He wasn’t wrong. You sighed, shrugged. “Anyway.”
Kylo stepped forward, assessing you in your tank top, scrutinizing the tourniquet you’d made of your jacket. “Your hand.”
“It’s fine,” you said, holding it behind your back. “Your quarters?”
His stare lingered on your exposed shoulders, on your neck. “Stay,” he said. “Until the silencer is repaired.”
“That could be as early as next cycle.”
“Given your skill, yes.”
It was difficult to look in his direction. Every worn nerve screamed for his touch. “And then what?”
“You’ll depart to another station.”
You tried to flush the pain from your voice. “So,” you said, “you want me to stay with you through, like, one cycle, and then leave.” You looked to the ceiling in faux-consideration. “Cool. I think I’ll pass.”
Kylo’s eye twitched. He moved closer, tone icy. “You have nowhere to sleep,” he said. “I…” He paused. His tongue rolled in his mouth. “You mean to tell me you prefer the silencer.”
“Well,” you replied, “I’ve never fucked the silencer. I never told the silencer how I felt about it. The silencer has never treated me like a stranger who just walked off the plains of Lothal.” You tapped your chin. “So, yeah, I prefer the silencer.”
He grit his teeth. “You’re no stranger.”
“Sure could’ve fooled me!” A couple of heads turned in your direction.
“Quiet,” he hissed. “It apparently takes very little for you to be fooled.”
“Excuse me?” you replied. “Run that by me again, Supreme Leader?”
“Now your hearing fails you.”
“This is great.” You offered a false smile. “This conversation is going really well.”
Kylo snarled, shoulders bunching with restraint. “You speak this way and then question why you’re unwelcome,” he replied. “Deaf and foolish.”
“Oh!” A frustrated laugh escaped. “Okay, then. Talk to you later, Your Excellency. I need a nap before I keep trying to fix your dumbass ship.”
Shaking your head, you folded your arms over your chest and stormed past him, anger blurring your vision. Stupid fucking asshole--
You made it three steps before a warm leather glove grabbed your shoulder, and you stalled, goosebumps shooting to your hands. Kylo spun you, your face inches from his, your breath fleeing and forgetting to return. His lips trembled, his jaw tightened, his gaze boring into you before it met the floor, seeking to stare anywhere else. The pressure of his fingers was firm, then floating. And then he swallowed, grip crushing your shoulder, his eyes finding you again.
No one else in the hangar would’ve known, looking at him. But this Kylo Ren was familiar to you.
This Kylo Ren was terrified.
“I don’t…” His voice was a feather in the air. “You are…” He averted his attention, stiffening. “You have a home.”
Your chest swelled. Water stung your eyes. “I do?”
“Yes,” he replied, utterly sincere. “But not here. Not now.”
Hairline fractures crept into your heart.
“Kylo.” Your composure cracked. All of you wanted to melt, to disintegrate into his being and know each word trapped on his tongue. There was a reason you could not find him, that he would not unfold himself to you. “Please. Why do you want me gone so badly?”
His lips parted, as if he were about to speak--and he paused. He drew in a breath through his nose. “Complications,” he replied. “Factors you do not understand.”
You stepped closer, throat tight. His breath brushed your nose. “Tell me, then.”
Kylo huffed, shifting on his feet--and his face froze. His limbs locked, muscles taut. His gaze widened, fixated on something over your shoulder. Air leaked from him, like time was slowing to a close. You blinked, looked behind you. But nothing was there.
Frowning, you cleared your throat. “Kylo?” He didn’t even acknowledge you. “You’re really just going to leave it like that?”
His pupils were pinpricks.
It wasn’t like you were heartless. You knew that he was attempting wasn’t easy. But what you were feeling wasn’t a sail on a skiff either. You didn’t just deserve more. You needed it.
“Okay,” you said, backing out of his hold. “This was nice. But I have a TIE fighter to repair. So.” He didn’t respond. Didn’t even move. “Whatever.”
You turned--Kylo’s focus flicked to you. His mouth dropped, like there were words he wanted to and couldn’t speak. Instead, he remained silent, fury simmering in his gaze while you pivoted away. You didn’t say anything either. You didn’t think you had to.
When you arrived at the silencer, you clambered into the cockpit, like it was a hole you could hide in until he disappeared. Shame, stubbornness, or surrender--you imagined one of these was responsible for why he didn’t pursue you, but you didn’t care. This ship repair would be your parting gift to him, and you could take off, probably spending the rest of your life wondering how you’d managed to fuck up your affair with the galaxy’s most ineligible bachelor.
Loose panels still swarmed the pilot’s chair. You sighed and put on your jacket, settling in and throwing your feet on the dash. Your hand thumped with irritation as you closed your eyes.
Just a couple of hours. That’s all you needed. Then you’d keep working like the foolish little--
Clank.
You yelped, flinching in your seat.
Clank.
Heart fluttering, you scanned the cockpit before realizing the noise came from outside the ship.
Clank.
It was behind you. Someone was messing with the refuel port. Or the solar lines. You couldn’t tell. Grumbling, you scrambled out of the chair and hoisted yourself up the escape. If they were fucking up this stupid ship even further--
Clankclankclank.
“Hey!” You popped your head free. “Will you...”
For a split second, you’d thought Kylo had decided to rip the solar line access open and tear into his own power supply. But then your vision focused. The man crouched over the ship was a different intimidating masked man dressed only in black. Your stomach twisted. It was the one from the Buzzard. The one who’d shoulder-checked you.
“Kuruk.”
His head whipped in your direction, the talons of his predator’s gaze gouging your chest. He pulled his hands free of the solar lines, his gloves greasy with reactant.
“Lieutenant.”
Previously you’d thought absolutely no one but Hux could spit that word with that degree of acidity. But if Hux spat it like acid, then Kuruk hocked it--dragged it up through his throat and sputtered it like necrotic phlegm.
You crawled onto the dorsal plane with the coordinated majesty of a blurrg, trying not to heave and ruin any level of authority you might have tricked him into thinking you maintained. When you’d made it to both feet, you straightened, as if you did this all the time, and moved toward him.
“What are you doing?”
“Repairing a starfighter.”
You snorted. “Really,” you replied. “Tearing out a power supply is repairing?”
Kuruk jerked his arm, wrenching free another line, spewing collector dust into the air. “Closer to repairing than sleeping in the cockpit.”
Heat rushed your spine, swathed your neck. “Yeah, well…” You examined him, watching as he cocked his head to avoid the blinders attached to his helmet. “At least I can see properly when I work on a ship.”
“Magnification’s built into the visor.”
More heat, this time crackling in your cheeks, drying your tongue. “Look,” you said, “this is my job. I don’t need amateurs screwing it up for me.”
He paused, turned his gaze on you again. “Amateurs?”
You shrugged. “In comparison, yeah, probably.”
Kuruk leaned on his heels, wiping his gloves on his jacket. “I don’t think so.”
“Uh, I do.” This man looked like a weapon. Not an engineer. “What experience do you have?”
“It’s called the Night Buzzard,” he replied. “You might be familiar with it.”
You paused, brow raising. “You…” It was impossible to restrain your laughter. But he didn’t move. “You’re kidding. Right? That’s a joke.”
Kuruk’s hands tensed.
“Dude, that ship’s the ugliest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” you replied. “Did you modify it with a boiled chokeroot?”
His head tilted. He rose to stand, so controlled he looked to be fighting gravity. “I can do more work with a boiled chokeroot than you can do with an entire Star Destroyer’s worth of resources,” he drawled. “Lieu. Tenant.”
The hair on your nape stuck straight, your pulse leapt to the ceiling. But the knowledge that Kylo was within thinking distance abated your fear.
“Might wanna get one then.” You grinned. “You’re not making much progress here without it.”
He stared, filthy fingers furling into fists--and then relaxed, the tension sloughing like reactor slime from his frame. Silent, he returned to a squat, rending more lines from their channels. For some reason, a tiny, irreverent part of you was disappointed.
No, that was a lie. You knew why you were disappointed. But this man wasn’t the one you wanted to be taunting into a wild sexual rage. Exhaling, you crossed your arms.
“It’s still my job,” you said.
“And I’ve been told that once it’s done, you’ll be gone.”
“What?” You gawked. “What the fuck? You, too? I didn’t even do anything to you!”
“Debatable.”
You rolled your eyes. “You’re mad because your Master didn’t want you to disrespect an officer.”
“No.” Kuruk’s attention snapped to you. “You’re loud.”
Blood drained from your face. “I’m…”
Moments blinked in your memory like a holodrama. Like how you’d spent the entire time aboard the Buzzard thinking about Kylo slamming you against the dashboard and breaking your pussy open. How you’d mentally undressed him, verbally taunted him, physically ached for him. How you’d blazed with hatred for him and stoked it with longing. And how you’d just noted that you were desperate to wind him into a state of frenzied lust so he’d wreck you entirely.
“Oh, fuck.” You glanced at the hangar’s entrance and wondered how quickly you could hurl yourself into the vacuum of space. Speaking of hurling… “Oh, fuck.”
You couldn’t spare Kuruk another glance. With shaking hands, you fumbled your way to the ground, steadying yourself on your weakening knees. There was no way you were going to spend another minute on this ship trying to fix a starfighter while getting thought-eavesdropped by multiple men, one of whom seemed hell-bent on doing your job for you anyway.
All you needed to do was find General Hux and get him to reassign you to another station. You’d figure the rest out later when you had time to process your myriad of losses and crippling rejection. You held your breath the entire trek to the command center, only releasing when the doors opened and you spied Hux at the head of the room, briefing someone on something you didn’t care about.
Wiping your forehead, you trudged over to him. Hux’s gaze darted between you and the other officer, his brow furrowing as you approached.
“A moment,” he said to the man. “Can I help you, Lieutenant?”
Yeah, it definitely sounded worse out of Kuruk’s mouth. “Can I get a new station? I, uh, I need a new station.” The officer peered at you in horror. You coughed, standing at attention. “General. Requesting a new assignment, sir.”
Hux’s lips pursed, his eyes narrowed. “The silencer is already repaired?”
“Uh, no. No, sir, it’s not.” You stared at your shoes. “Still requesting a new assignment. I believe my work here is complete.”
A pause hung in the air. Hux observed you like you were a recently apprehended criminal. He sighed.
“Dismissed, Captain.” He waited for the man to depart before turning to you. “What do you mean, your work here is complete?”
It was hard to find the appropriate words. “I mean. Uh. Permission to speak freely, sir?”
“No.”
You groaned. “Okay.” A long breath, flooding your lungs with air. “Well. My services are no longer required. My presence is redundant. I cannot return to Orinda. I’m requesting another station.” You exhaled. “Sir.”
Hux’s pink face pinched together. “Something happened with Ren.”
Warmth flushed your neck. “Uh, no--”
“Lieutenant,” he said, like the words were thorns on his tongue, “I unfortunately believe your insight and skill may still be of use to the First Order.”
“Sir?”
“The TIE project has been approved. You may be just the person to manage it.”
You balked. “Oh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea--”
“No?” Sharp green eyes pierced you into silence. “I thought you might leap at the opportunity, considering how cruelly the Resistance slaughtered your staff.”
Your heart clenched, your chest speared with pain. Better TIE units wouldn’t save them. But you could at least ensure their loss wouldn’t be in vain. Though you’d never supervised an undertaking of that scale before, the excitement of a challenge glittered in the distance. Glittered, then dimmed under a brooding, Kylo Ren-shaped shadow.
“Well…”
Hux glanced away, gazing through the thick panes of transparisteel, as if offering you any more praise would blind him. “Go to the Supreme Leader. Inform him of my plans.” He offered a slight shrug. “If he disagrees, then so be it. We’ll find you a new station.” The thought was left unfinished--he seemed very confident Kylo would not disagree.
Too bad you disagreed with him. “Yes, sir,” you replied. “I understand. Where might I find the Supreme Leader?”
Hux frowned. “Am I his keeper, Lieutenant?”
A brief, blissful image of your fist connecting with his chin flashed through your mind. You shook it away.
“No,” you said. “No, sir. I’ll find him. Thank you.”
He nodded. “Dismissed.”
Shooting him a glare, you pivoted on your heel, marching out of the command center. All you needed to do was find where Kylo Ren might be by searching the entirety of this huge Star Destroyer. That would be easy.
#kylo ren smut#kylo ren x reader#kylo x reader#kylo ren fanfiction#kylo ren#defy your authority#fya2#fanfiction problems#GOLLY-GEE WILLIKERS
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mission as usual // i love y'all 3000 challenge
hi everyone! this is a submission for @pagesoflauren's i love y'all 3000 challenge. i saw this come up on my dash and figured i would do a prompt (or two, maybe). i haven't written anything in quite a bit, and the inspiration may as well have slapped me in the face. here is the link to her original post!
pairing: Clint Barton x James "Bucky" Barnes [WinterHawk]
warnings: hurt/comfort, possible fluff overload, typical canon violence
prompt: "Who did this to you?"
word count: 1.5k
Mission As Usual
After most Avengers missions the tower became chaotic. The brisk footfalls of new agents discussing upcoming missions. Stark's R&D engineers tweaking and updating weapons and transportation vehicles. The medical staff taking care of patients and preparing for those who would be coming from other missions.
You could say that the Avengers were a kind of group who believed in self-sacrifice — even if it was a subconscious effort — and the worst of the bunch had to be one-Clint Barton.
Clint had this streak of consecutive medical visits post-mission going — he was currently weighing in at 62, and that's not counting the various clumsy accidents he gets into in the tower.
But the only problem he truly faced was getting past his mother-hen of a boyfriend. Bucky meant well, truly. He just can't help it when he gets his Sargent voice going and telling Clint to "be more careful".
"He was like this with me when we were kids", Steve had laughed, "glad to see that hasn't changed."
The only difference is Steve Rogers was the most sickly kid in all of Brooklyn, hell, all of New York and Clint was just a huge, self-sacrificing klutz.
Missions with just himself and Natasha were rare nowadays. They hung out all the time in the tower regardless, but there was nothing quite as special when they got to team up against HYDRA or former members of the Red Room.
Half the time that they were out in the field they were back to back watching each other's six. Clint's bow always drawn tight with an arrow and Natasha's batons buzzing in her hands. No one worked quite as in sync as the two of them, well, unless you look at Steve and Sam Wilson.
Their mission this time was tracking down a rogue HYDRA agent who escaped their grasp during their last roll in the mud with the whole team. Seemed simple enough. In, out, get the guy, interrogate, and have time to catch a new episode of The Blacklist.
As most injuries to the Avengers happen, one minute Clint was in a Mexican stand off with the HYDRA agent, Natasha coming up from behind, and the next his face was slammed down onto the asphalt.
His ears were ringing, head throbbing. There's another one, he must've called backup. Clint slowly pushed himself up to his knee, blood trickling down his temple. He flung his head around, seeing his attacker coming back for another blow.
Clint ducked under his leg that was out to kick him and snatched a knife from his boot, swiping at the back of the man's knee. A hiss sounds above him as the agent joins Clint on his knees, slamming his knee hard into his stomach.
All of the air that was in his lungs rushes out, and he's sitting hunched over, suffocating, and trying to regain his breath. "I'm supposed to be watching Nat's six", he thinks.
He finally returns to his feet, wheezing but breathing better than he was. His and Nat's grunts are heard as they continue to fight the HYDRA agents. In due time, Clint knocks out the agent by kneeing him in the head and Nat had apprehended the other.
"Alright Squad Four come in for clean up." Nat says briskly into comms.
Two quinjets land, and suddenly the steps Clint needs to take to get to them seem so impossible. Thankfully, Natasha comes up next to him and helps him to bear his own weight. Bless her and her red head.
A few SHIELD agents rush out of the first quinjet armed and with handcuffs to apprehend the HYDRA agents. The second one that Nat leads him towards has a pilot and a few medical techs to give them a basic once over before Bruce and Dr. Cho can get to them at the tower.
The flight from their mission site to the tower pass by in a total blur. Clint is fading in and out of consciousness, his head is throbbing, and everything hurts.
"Mr. Barton, sorry to interrupt," one of the med techs signs, "your hearing aids were damaged during the fight, Mr. Stark is going to have to make some new ones for you."
"Aw hearing aids, no." Clint says slurred and he knows he's a bit loud due to not being able to hear himself.
Landing at the tower winds up being more of an affair than usual. With Clint's lack of hearing, he had no clue what was happening. Lips were impossible to read as hurried conversations occurred around him.
Of course, Bruce and Dr. Cho tried to gang up on him and force him onto a gurney, hell, at least a wheelchair to wheel him to an exam room. As the sharpshooter does, he makes a big stink with slurred words and glassy eyes.
Natasha had pushed him into a wheelchair anyway.
Clint really just wanted to crawl into a vent and hide until he felt better — and maybe pop a few ibuprofen tablets too. But there he was, post-checkup with Bruce, sitting on the counter in the communal kitchen.
As with most of Clint's now 63 consecutive medical visits, bandaids were on multiple parts of his face. He was also sporting some nice bruises on his stomach and temple where his head had been slammed into the ground.
He looked and felt like he was hit by a truck filled with 17 elephants, and then ran over by a train. Ok, maybe he was getting a bit dramatic now.
Nonetheless, he was sitting with Natasha, Tony, and Peter — this new spider-child that he swears Tony picked up off the street and he has to stop calling him 'Mr. Hawkeye, sir'. His injuries were on full display, only because after having to cut Clint's shirt off to give him that once over Bruce didn't even want to try and get a shirt back on the poor man.
"You know, I know I'm an asshole, but you look like shit, Legolas." Tony snarks as his hands move quickly.
"Thanks, Tony. You are so sweet to get me a glass of water." Clint pulled this master guilt-tripping look that always got to Tony and like their game always goes, the short man retrieved what Clint wanted.
And that sure put a large grin on his face. Ow, it hurt... damn bruises. It also helped when he saw Peter laughing and the shaking of Nat's head as she sipped from a wine glass.
Everything was finally settling down, and as he got sucked into a tough game of Angry Birds on his phone, he was stunned at the sudden movements in his periphery.
Looking up — and completely missing his shot with the bird that was simultaneously a bomb — he saw Bucky rushing at him, pressing into his space between his legs. Words were tumbling out of his mouth but Clint couldn't begin to comprehend them. Too much, too fast.
"Buck, no aids, they broke." Clint signs quickly.
He watches Bucky's face change from concerned and kicked puppy to an angry scowl and back in two seconds. His metal hand reaches to cup Clint's cheek, the archer immediately pressing into his hold.
"Who did this to you?" Bucky signs with his other hand, face serious.
"HYDRA agent. Thought there was one, turns out it was two." Clint sighs in exhaustion.
Clint watches as his boyfriend looks him over, grimacing at the bruising and the bandages covering him. He knows Bucky worries when he goes on missions without having him as a backup, and this just further proved that.
He watches as Bucky turns to Tony and say something, but Clint doesn't bother to try and follow along to the conversation. He looks to Steve and Sam, both dressed in their running gear, the sweat on their brows, and they share a knowing look.
Clint was about to be put on bed arrest by one Bucky Barnes. So much to his plan of hiding out in the vents.
He watches Sam mouth 'Buck, overreacting again', and shakes his head with a fond smile. As much of a pain he was when Clint was hurt, he found it very endearing. At times when Clint had been injured way worse, Bucky had helped him into a warm bath to soothe his aches and pains, massaging his scalp, and rambling to him about his day.
Bucky taps Clint's knee twice, their signal to pay attention so they can see each other signing, he looks up into his steely blue eyes and catches a small smile on his face.
"How many now?" Bucky signs with a smirk.
"63, and counting!"
"Stop that Clint Frances."
"You did not just middle name me."
"Hm, whatcha gon' do about it doll?" Bucky smirks, signing something vaguely inappropriate as their friends had cleared out the room to give them privacy.
"Nothing. Although, I could use some good ole Bucky-bear cuddles." Clint smiled softly, looking at his boyfriend lovingly.
"Of course, I'm always going to take care of you. No matter what."
Even with Bucky's overprotective nature, Clint still couldn't help but blush at the affection from his boyfriend. He knew he still had to face the upcoming Sergeant speech, but in that moment, nothing else really mattered as he sat in Bucky's arms.
#winterhawk#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x clint barton#clint barton#bucky barnes fan fic#clint barton fanfiction#marvel#marvel fanfiction#buckypcrker#ap.fic#i love y'all 3000 challenge#pagesoflauren3000challenge
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PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 21
First time reader click here
TWs/SUMMARY: Wanda fluff, Loki fluff, we're getting a whole ass friendship! Dad sucks. The outfits are neat tho! Check the end for a mood board 😍
a/n: dress inspo and aesthetic visuals can be found here, here and here. (Paolo Sebastian, Firefly Path gowns and Viona Ielegems photography).
"Gi-i-irl..." Wanda drawled, seeing me arrive with Tony, both of us freshly showered and still hazy from the amazing orgasms. God only knew what she'd seen in both of our heads - if judging only by the vivid, crimson blush she spouted, it was definitely something very NSFW. Bruce already sat at the dinner table, quietly slurping his soup, his back and shoulders the most relaxed I'd ever seen. He gave me a knowing smile once he noticed my presence in my usual spot by his side.
The rest of the team appeared completely oblivious, preoccupied by their food.
"So, about the party. Got any costume ideas?" I cut straight to the chase, unwilling to wait for Wanda to start asking for details right in front of everyone.
Steve, Bucky, Pietro, Thor and Natasha all answered affirmative, the latter whacking Clint upside the head and firmly stating "no funny business". I couldn't help but wonder what kind of crazy shit the Bird had in mind and was kind of disappointed at Nat's intervention. A good chaotic moment was always worthwhile in my opinion!
The other bird, Sam, approached Bruce with caution as he wondered if the scientist was interested in doing a paired costume with him, only to be interrupted by Tony declaring, with childish glee, he had a "wicked project" that he and Bruce would be doing together. The scientist gave a resigned sigh and apologized.
Sam wasn't deterred by the slight setback; he approached Clint instead and after being given an okay from Natasha, the Birds decided to pair up. As they should, if you'd ask me.
"I have a costume but I need some accessories. Wanda, Lokes, join me on my lil' shopping trip?" I prompted, wanting everybody to be included. I was fully prepared for Loki to scoff and dismiss my invitation but the Asgardian nodded after a second of brief speechlessness. Didn't anyone invite him to birthday parties as a kid? Either way, Thor gave me a grateful smile, like a proper big brother. Both Asgardians had grown visibly closer during the past couple of months which made me hide a secretive smile behind a spoonful of soup.
It turned out, Loki hadn't exactly been introduced to the buzzing beehive that is NYC. He didn't get out much and when he needed to be somewhere, the man simply teleported to the desired destination. As convenient as it must've been, I still expressed my outrage at his lack of experience doing the usual "touristy" things that, in my opinion, every non-newyorker was obligated to do when visiting. Yes, even if said visitor had literally traveled across different galaxies.
Wanda wasn't much better in terms of city knowledge. According to her, she'd lived here for several years already but never bothered to go beyond the borders of the block surrounding the Avengers tower. The witch didn't have friends outside of her teammates (therapy. they all needed so much therapy. y'all...) so she simply saw no point in going anywhere beyond the local mall.
Which was trash. I mean, I loved Hot Topic and Forever 21 as much as any other young adult with depression and anxiety but it was literally impossible to wear clothes made out of cheap cotton and polyester all the time. I'm pretty sure I would have hives and ulcers if I attempted that.
"We're going on Sixth Avenue and that's final. No friend of mine will be wearing shit from Wal-Mart at a Stark party," I interrupted Wanda's defensive stuttering, using my other hand to summon an Uber.
"That is good advice," Loki, previously silent, added in a sweet tone. I counted on the fashionable Asgardian to be on my side and with his schmoozing skills, I didn't even have to drag Wanda inside the car by, like, her hair or whatever. The three of us barely fit into the small Toyota anyway.
A thought struck me when I had to consciously avoid stepping on Loki's leather shoes and keep away my elbow from Wanda's stomach. "Mister? I'll give you a hundred bucks cash if you turn around and drive to this address," I hurriedly rattled off my home address, delighting in the way the driver nearly did a U-turn at the mention of crispy dollar bills.
We arrived home quickly. Wanda gaped in mild disbelief at the size of my house while Loki looked about as interested as he'd ever be. His face was akin to an expression one made while smelling fresh manure. Opening the garage, I was greeted with an unpleasant surprise of my dad's outrageously painted Corvette standing neatly by my white Range Rover.
Loki looked and felt considerably less tense in the back of my car. The subtle signs of discomfort all but left his face replaced by slight wonder as I explained how to adjust the temperature and turn on the heated seats.
Dad met us at the gates. "You didn't come in to say hello," He pouted. His breath reeked like a five-day drinking binge hangover and he looked a dead man.
"We're in a hurry, dad. There's a lot to be done," I replied curtly, hoping to get rid of him fast. I hated being sober around my drunk father. My fingers twitched on the steering wheel.
"You're like your mother, always busy," Dad's laugh was coarse and bitter. "But at least you find time for Stark and his friends. That'll do your future real good," He clapped once on the hood of my car, heading back to the house with a wave of his hand, just in time to miss the disgusted shudder that ran through me.
I knew my dad well enough to understand the implications of what he meant by his words. In his world, fucking way up to the top was considered the norm. I'd rather cut off my own foot than use Tony that way.
"Sorry you had to see that. I thought he was still in Cali," I gritted my teeth, pulling out of the driveway.
"I'm sorry you had to experience that. I have no kind words regarding your father," Loki's look was sympathetic in the rearview mirror.
"Or your mother," Wanda added, messing with her seatbelt. Loki nodded tersely.
"Aight, aight," I sighed, set on improving the mood. "Let's not poop this party. We're getting some absolutely delicious beverages and wasting my money on outrageous pretty things. My treat."
Wanda's protests were drowned out by Motorhead and Loki's grumbling was overshadowed by Guns'n'Roses. Their resistance didn't stand a chance. Few blocks out, the witch was singing along to November Rain, heavily accented and terribly off-key, and the Asgardian watched New York city intently behind the protection of the tinted rear windows of my ride. He seemed mesmerized by the crowds and the variety of colorful shop fronts. This was the the one and only reason I eased off the gas pedal and drove the speed limit for once.
The atmosphere was, well, magical. Looking at my two companions, I discovered the familiar city anew with every question they asked, every remark they made. The desire to ask in turn about their homelands melted like the tension I was harbouring after the run-in with my father. Content and warm, I had my attention divided between Loki and Wanda juggling their wonder back-and-forth between themselves and the absolutely crazy NYC traffic.
So what if I parked in a no-parking zone just to get us the most delicious coffee in the city? Loki, the resident tea person, ordered himself something unpronounceable, something that made the barista twitch. Wanda got a sugary-sounding vanilla-white chocolate perversion. I just got a mocha, having had outgrown my adolescent desires to experiment with "how sweet can I make this coffee before I literally puke?" beverages.
With a laugh, I instructed them to pose in front of the nearest reflective surface to brag about our coffees on Instagram - this café deserved more recognition. My companions reluctantly obliged.
I wonder if the barista realized just who had bought the coffee - Loki was quite a media darling when it came to fangirls. Tony's PR team did a wonderful job on the Asgardian's redemption arc. The trickster only fueled the utter devotion his fangirls had for him by being extra nice and charming in every video I've seen. I guess you can't out-mindcontrol manners outta somebody, he was raised a prince after all.
It wasn't raining but the autumn chill seeped into the tiny spaces between my layers of clothing. I already managed to regret my fashionable dark academia inspired outfit at least twice, however the matching vibe all three of us had was positively dashing. Loki, wearing his usual onyx black and dark green. Wanda with a burgundy sweater dress and thigh high platformed boots - sweater dresses, out of all things, had no business looking this good on anybody. But she pulled it off.
"You said you've got a costume. Mind sharing what it is?" The witch said, curiously peeking into the windows of a nearby vintage boutique as we took our leisurely stroll with steaming paper cups keeping our fingers warm.
"A fairy dress. It was custom made for me last year and I actually didn't get to wear it. I need some jewelry to go with it," I explained, stopping to show a photo of the dress on my smartphone. "And some shoes, too. Let's hope the party will be held completely indoors, otherwise I'll freeze my ass off."
"Custom made?" Wanda squeaked, looking at the garment in wonder. Loki gave a vaguely approving nod.
"Yeah, there's a company that makes these fantasy dresses. You want one? What did you have in mind for your costume anyway?" I switched the topic quickly, seeing how Wanda withdrew into herself slightly. I heard from Peter she grew up poor, in the middle of a war and I didn't want to make her feel bad or anything. I wasn't good at these things...
"I thought maybe I could match with you," She replied, slowly taking a sip of her coffee.
"Sure. There are a couple of shops with really cute dresses that fit the aesthetic." Marchesa. We need a Marchesa store. And a Zuhair Murad - if there was one on this stretch of road. "What about you, Lokes? Anything in particular strike your fancy?" I asked our silent companion, frantically googling the information I needed.
"Black," He answered moodily.
"Boo, you whore," I rolled my eyes at his scoff. We had watched the Mean Girls recently and he got the reference, immediately raising a sarcastic eyebrow. "You know, you could do so much with this pale aristocratic look you've got going on. How about a medieval vampire?"
"Like Lestat? He's fucking hot," Wanda and I understood each other promptly. She jumped on the bandwagon immediately.
Combining my blunt honesty and her adorable fawning over a fictional bloodsucker, we managed to convince Loki into going on a hunt for brocaded, velvet suits and blouses with ruffles for his look. The trickster revolted at the mere suggestion of procuring some fake fangs, instead magically making them appear and showing them off in the middle of the crowded sidewalk, much to my and Wanda's delighted shrieking. He looked, I daresay, very attractive, like a porcelain figurine. Delicate but dangerous.
We arrived at the store that showcased beautiful, airy dresses of silk, chiffon and tulle. The lace was delicate and the seams invisible. I ushered Wanda into a dressing room with a shop attendant that was quietly but strictly instructed to not discuss the cost of the dresses and hide the price tags.
"I want it to be a gift. My friend here deserves no less than a magical experience," I explained quietly, winking at a bewildered Loki.
"Why did you do that?" He asked once Wanda was given a selection of several dresses in flattering colours and led into a separate dressing room.
"These dresses, they're special so they're a bit pricey. And knowing Wanda, she'll make a scene and refuse to let me buy them for her," I idly twirled my phone in my hands. "But every girl wants to be a princess and it's kinda sad she never got to be one. It's more than just a dress, it's more than feeling pretty, although it's a big part of it. She'll feel on top of the world."
Loki nodded. I'm certain he didn't understand it - being a man and all - and I wasn't sure I understood it completely, too. I never lacked pretty or expensive things, always got whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. But for a moment, I thought how it must've been for Wanda - seeing all these girls on TV, looking like pictures - and never having the chance to experience that. A concept that made me so sad, I was tempted to ask the customer service person for a glass of scotch. Being poor sounded depressing as hell.
Suddenly, Loki's cool, large hand landed on mine. "Thank you. I am certain Wanda will be the most beautiful lady at the ball."
I stared at him. Loki understood.
"Well, I... I don't know how finicky you are on gender labels for clothes, but there were a couple of blouses you might want to check out. They've got the neck ruffles and shit." My throat suddenly seized up and I had to clear it before speaking, steering away from the uncomfortably emotional moment. Thankfully, Loki wandered off without as much as a word.
THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie
& the promised aesthetic
#tony stark x y/n#tony stark x reader#tony stark x you#bruce banner x you#bruce banner x reader#bruce banner x y/n#stephen strange x y/n#stephen strange x you#stephen strange x reader#party favours#bun writes
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Witcher Of The Night (Chapter 10)
THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.
WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST
CHAPTER 9
Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader
Summary: Geralt has found a djinn as your ticket for your way home. Though, some conditions doomed his fate. Your confession for the witcher got him climbing down towards the goal of sending you away; reconsidering what could happen when you stay for a week or maybe more. Howbeit, your panic-stricken confession lead into unlocking the Djinn out of its confinement and thus, leading you into becoming one possessed human and giving Geralt factual reasons as to why he was destined to you.
Warnings: Possessed reader. A gushing reader who managed to accidentally confess her feelings for the witcher. Upset Cirilla. Weird shit going on. Soft, hardheaded but smiley and frustrated Geralt all at once. A VERY MUCH NOT accurate words of Elder speech. AHONHONHON. I’m sorry in advance. Mention of blood. LOTS of Geralt Gif’s because…why not?
Words: 5.9k
A/N: You’ll have tension on the next chapters. When I mean tension, I mean sexual tension. I can hear y'all screaming and waiting for this moment to shine. HAHAHHAHAHA. I hope the wait is worth it.
TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!
Disclaimer: PNG’s used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren’t from moi as well. GIF’s INCLUDED ARE CREDITED TO THOSE WHO MADE THEM! I DO NOT OWN THEM!
MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!
You understood everything now. Very perfectly. Geralt was acting weirdly soft to you because he was finally throwing you away.
That was a more reasonable explanation to his sudden supple treatment towards you as you remembered how he was avoiding you the day before you were captured by those asshats. Though, it stopped there. He saved you and that was it. That was the only thing you remembered aside from the blurry image of you confessing something heartfelt to the witcher as he carried you to send you off to some healer.
You didn’t tell him anything ridiculous, didn’t you?
Those cheeky, dashing smiles he tries to give whenever he catches you staring made you narrow your eyes once you timidly avoided his beams like a blushing baby.
He was probably just happy that you were going to be out of his majestic hair once you wish for a genie to take you back home. It hurts to know that the witcher was happy and basically twerking inside his head about shooing you away.
Truly, your heart was feeling heavy because of it. The heavy feeling being brought as you had your steady hike with his family. Those lips that were jutted out in a pout was ineradicable even till the moment you’ve arrived at a tranquil looking lake.
Geralt took notice of your vexatious pout that was permanently carved as he threw the fishnet out in the lake. Dismissing your attitude with a faint shake of his head at the wonder why you were looking downright dejected when it was finally the time you could go home and leave the havoc that you were in.
“So, a Djinn is a fish? Since you’re using a fish net…” he’d heard you question the bard that was leaning on a dead tree, arms crossed like an executive in some company as he watched Geralt trawl for your Djinn. The witcher tugged on the rope of the fishnet and pulled; seeing no pitcher yet that had a Djinn and only an empty bottle of wine that was thrown out in the lake. He frustratingly exhaled a breath and ceaselessly tossed the fishnet back in the water.
Cirilla and Kolby were crouching down beside the swamp as they were playing with the water in their hands. Patiently waiting for whatever you were finding.
“Haven’t you heard of genies?” Jaskier bellowed, making your eyebrows twist together in ire for his attitude. You crossed your arm and gave yourself a second before a loud cajole left your lips, “—The mystical creatures that grant you three wishes?”
Your frowning self promptly turned the opposite as you remembered a movie that you’ve loved back in your laptop, “Oh! The one from Aladdin! Will the Genie come out of it? Is it a smoke of blue?!”
The bard let out a perceptible loud sigh, eyes focused at the witcher who was mindlessly cussing to himself for finding his Djinnie-Djinn-Djinn that took three hours already. He gave you a look that consisted of abounding judgement.
You shrugged to yourself; dusting off his sarcasm, “I suppose not,”
“—The last time it came out, it attacked my throat and gave me the ill-fate of having no voice to talk nor sing. I’ve been brought to a healer—thanks to Geralt and his selfless virtue, and been brought to an orgy which eventually; Yennefer–” Jaskier’s chatters were ceased by Geralt’s stern tone that echoed a meter away as he was hauling over his fishnet, audibly groaning as he felt something heavy that has been caught.
He hoped it was no monster or anything.
“That’s enough, Bard.”
Jaskier leaned off the dead tree, hands on either side of his hips as he looked offended by always being cut-off in the middle of his chitter-chatters with you, “Why do you always cut me off when it’s about the mage from Vengerberg?” a teasing pause. “—It’s like you don’t want me mentioning about her because the small rat is around,”
The witcher gave no response other than a displeased hum, not giving his amber eyes while the fish net dripped as he dragged it out to see some type of vase that had a peculiar seal, “Hmm.”
He’d heard a clap and it was from the bard, “Oh, a pitcher! It’s the Djinn!” before his voice suddenly upturned into a softer tone like he was avoiding something. The leaves crumpled beneath his shoe as you felt Jaskier discreetly side stepped away from you or everyone like a frog in the mud, “I’m just going to…give you space and peace like you hoped for,”
The message was for Geralt as he slowly but surely hid behind a tree where Cirilla and Kolby was. A distance which is still coherent for him to hear you both from a distance. You’ve eyed him like he was going loco when he gave a thumbs up behind the tree and peeked with only his head showing to the both of you, a beam on show.
“Don’t forget to make three wishes when the harsh wind hits you! Also, make it fast so it doesn’t thwack you in the neck!”
Geralt held onto the pitcher, inspecting a different seal in his hands. Much more different than the one they had decades ago. It was an eight figure hand clustered in a circle with random stars all over.
“Are you sure this wouldn’t be a snake in the grass, Geralt?” the witcher heard the bard speak from behind the tree, loud enough for you to hear his question thrown. There was a moment of silence as Geralt studied the pitcher a lot more closely, trying to understand and remember what the seal meant.
He’d finally taken the chance to voice out to the bard in a gruff tone, “As long as she doesn’t wish for anything that would mutilate anyone,”
You gave them looks; back and forth as they went on to their talk like you weren’t there with them. It’s not like you could understand whatever magic or terms they were even talking about. This was the problem for living in a world that you weren’t familiar with; not a single thing that you were used to besides the cooking. Other than that, their world was living in history that you somehow didn’t wish to have lived in.
With magic even involved in their lives like it was a normal thing.
“What if this backfires, Geralt? You know..like it would give her a tumor in the neck and then you’ll go find a healer again and—” Jaskier cut his sentence in haste when the witcher gave him a scolding glare. He’d shut his mouth, contemplating on what his next words would be.
“—You sure it’ll give her what she wants?”
“It can grant the most far-fetched wishes,”
“So, when you wished for peace prior to that day; giving me tumor is the best idea for your Djinn?”
Geralt gave him a mocking smile, one that consists that his patience was wearing thin again for the talkative bard who asks too much questions like he was the person who came from another world and not you, “But, it quite helped, didn’t it?”
The bard rolled his eyes back at him, puffing out a breath as he emerged behind the tree and leaned his shoulders on the dry wood; his face contorting in anxiety as he saw Kolby crouched in front who was giving him those puppy eyes.
You were too engrossed from their talk and didn’t notice Geralt who was now in front of you; handing over the pitcher where a Djinn was kept.
“As long as she’s the master, the Djinn won’t hurt her.” he reassured for you; feeling your agitation take over as you were realizing that there was a risk that their genie could hurt you. Though, those glowing eyes of his that resting on you; giving an unfamiliar tenderness of his gaze was simply telling you that it won’t happen.
But, the stingy feeling inside your heart wasn’t helping those warmth within his eyes.
“Make your wish, Midget.” he simply said, dropping his gaze for a second before returning back on your glum filled eyes, “—Once unbarred and has three of your wishes, the djinn is set free,”
You loosely held onto the pitcher like you were hesitant. It was there now. Your way for home. One of the options that can get you coming back from where you came from. Away from their chaotic world that had too many fremd explanations about their way of living other than earth where having a stable job was the only problem you had.
Not for the fear of monsters and people selling you off to some duke or king.
“—and…you are also..” the witcher drawled out his words, seeming to be in deep thought as his features turned stony and inexplainable, “—free. Back to where you came from,”
He sounded like he was choking when the witcher continued his speech; or maybe it was just you who wanted to think he actually didn’t want you leaving?
Shocking to say, you actually didn’t want to. His family was extraordinaire and caring. The type where they wouldn’t blink just to save you from danger even if it would involve them bleeding to death.
Geralt’s family was one of a kind. Thus, you realize how much of a family you had back in earth. A family who let you work overseas to help them in their lives as you work your ass off so they could pay their bills. It’s not that you weren’t thankful that they’ve taken care of you when you were a kid and even paid for your college fees, but sometimes working abroad can be depressing when you have no one around.
No one to hold and share your sadness with.
“What if I…” Wish to stay? your thoughts were in a mess. You trailed off and anxiously bit the insides of your cheeks as Geralt waited for you to finish your sentence. Yet, you clicked your tongue and changed what you wanted to say instead, “—What if it hurts me? As much as how it did to Jaskier?”
Geralt’s shook his head, frowning as he does so, “I won’t let that happen, midget.”
The way he said it; soft and reassuring like he promised that this option you had involves no pain. Leading you into yearning for something that seemed to be unreachable and utterly fantastical for it to happen in reality. That is; if their world was really your reality.
Nevertheless, you could feel every sorts of emotions and feelings. It was frustrating you to the point of being unreasonable by wanting to stay.
Jaskier faintly smiled as the bard realized what you were already holding. This was it. The last time to have you around. He was indecisive about it despite of him not wanting to welcome you warmly on the first day since you were hunted by an Alghoul. However, it seems like the latter had a change of heart and actually began to appreciate your annoying, little presence. Definitely like a cute rat that he probably feeds when nobody is looking.
“Should I bid you a goodbye right now?” he solemnly muttered as he fidgeted with his fingers. An action he does when he was anxious or thinking about something. You gave him back a gloomy smile and felt your chest feel even more heavier than it ever did.
The princess had her nose scrunched to its extent. Eyebrows furrowed in total bewilderment as she was trying to understand what was happening behind her back. “Why do we need to say farewell? To whom?”
Jaskier mustered up the courage to tell her, expecting for another set of her tantrums because of the sudden decision that Geralt has made for you, “—To Y/N.”
With just two words, it was enough for the princess to squeak and protest, completely objecting at the plan ahead as she gave the witcher a furious glare. “What? Geralt!”
She’d hopped forward against the muddy ground, hissing as she does so while Jaskier tried to catch her but she was too quick for him to slide away from. Geralt heard her heavy marches, closing his eyes in fatigue and stress as he murmured, “I shouldn’t have brought you both with me,”
It took five seconds for Cirilla’s steam to blow like a train; throwing angered protests at the witcher that was bound to protect her till the day she dies, “How dare you not tell me this?! I demand for her not to leave!”
“Princess.” Geralt firmly stated, a sigh leaving his lips as he does so and continued, “She doesn’t belong here,”
“I don’t want her to leave!”
“She belongs to her rightful dimension,”
Cirilla gave out a frustrated huff of her breath, snobbishly crossing her arms before the witcher as she gave him a scowl, “Don’t act like I didn’t see you both together in your bed last night, hugging her to sleep!”
Jaskier blinked repeatedly at that; giving the witcher a double take and also making you narrow your eyes at them from what they were pointing out.
The princess knew. She knew what she saw when she wanted to check if you were already awake yet and saw Geralt sleeping like a baby. Beside you with an arm surrounding you close as his palms rested along the middle of your back; intentionally avoiding the wounds before it could even open up itself.
It was the first time she ever saw the witcher having to sleep like a deadbeat without waking up due to his heightened senses because she tried to peek. He was completely vulnerable and seemed like to be in deep slumber; cuddling another person in his arms like it was his comfort.
“Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon.” Geralt snarled, giving her the sharp eyes as and a tone that tells her to stop before he doesn’t talk to her for weeks end. He’d used her full name for the first time in forever and simply to say; Geralt was pissed.
Cirilla’s voice wavered, feeling her throat run dry and eyes seem to appear cloudy as she took in Geralt’s hostility towards the truth that has been said. He was always like this, pushing people away when he seemed to feel like they were finally having a connection; fearing for being attached and for what outcomes it may bring.
“You are certainly an idiot, Geralt.”
The witcher’s nose flared in discontent, her narks immediately went straight to his head as he wore a nasty scowl; letting the irritation straight out of his mouth as he starts spitting ire at everyone who seemed to make his life a little more difficult, “Are you done talking shit now?”
The princess went on with her glares, peering up at the witcher with a piercing glint of her eyes, “You never fail to disappoint me,”
“Thank you, Princess. I always do plan to disappoint people. Comes in becoming a witcher,” was the only sarcastic remark that the witcher managed to reply with a rough grouse and an obvious roll of his eyes.
In between their heated argument, Jaskier even had the guts to butt in like what he always do; his face sketched in opposition for the sudden decision at hand like Geralt wanted it done in haste, “Do you really need to go back? I mean, I’ve talked to Geralt about it last night! He’s just one stubborn witcher and trying to push you away because he’s scared of being attached! We can always keep your Djinnie-Djinn-Djinn and just use it when you feel like going home—”
The latter was harshly cut off by a gruff sputter of Geralt’s warning, “Bard.” his nose flared even more, “—Will you fucking shut up? Even just for a minute?”
You didn’t know what to do. Everyone was telling you not to do it yet, even your heart as well. It was crazy, to even choose between living in a dimension that was full of peril or a world where it keeps you depressed because something was hugely missing in your life back in earth.
There was someone intensely staring at your face and you knew it was the angered witcher, no doubt because he seemed like he wanted you away already, “Wish for what your heart desires, midget.” he lowly hissed and gave a nasty grimace to the two pair of people who was strongly ceasing the progression of you going home to where you belong.
Everybody didn’t dare to make any form of noise except for the Hirikka who was looking at you in curiosity; never knowing what was going on. Jaskier shook his head in disappointment at the witcher, giving him a look that was pure of dissatisfaction and it was the first time that the bard ever did. He was trying to make Geralt feel guilty for his decisions or whatsoever.
“Final words for us before you go, small rat?”
Your heart was downright heavy as you began to send off your final messages to the people who did nothing but be kind enough for letting you stay despite of not knowing who you are. You gave Cirilla a look full of warmth, faintly smiling back at the princess who was now sobbing because the only person whom she felt a different type of connection was now leaving. The idea of not being able to see you again because you didn’t belong to their world was giving her distraught as you were the only person she connected with that involved with a woman’s touch.
“To Cirilla,” you choked in your own words, feeling the hesitance in your throat as you evidently swallowed. “—Hey, don’t cry. You’re going to be the strongest and bravest woman I can ever know. With a witcher by your side, he’ll mold you into becoming a better person as well,”
Your voice was faltering like a thin sheet of paper. Silently, the witcher stared; feeling the heat of his gaze grazing on the side of your face as you continued to bid your goodbyes.
“Jaskier,” an acknowledge that made the bard scoff with a forced grin, trying to make the situation lighter for everyone, “I know you’re utterly enamoured by my singing, small rat. Now is the perfect time for your confession!”
You managed to roll your eyes a him, “Keep annoying everyone. I hope Kolby bites you in your sleep,”
“I shall die a brokenhearted man!”
Last but not the least, a message for the witcher who has always been saving you like a knight in shining armor. An expected knight in your fantasies.
Never even expecting to like him in a way that you wondered how it would be like to be his lover. Nonetheless, the thought was a blur because he wasn’t just a mere human. He was a mutated one and a person who takes his job very seriously as a monster-slayer.
Maybe being his other half would be pretty much an adventure.
“Geralt,” you turned your heel to face him, considering the distance that he was an arm away from you. He’d given you an apathetic gaze, masking in whatever he was feeling right now as you couldn’t see right through him as of the moment, “—I’ve seen this in the movies too much and I understand why you’re handling everything in silence,”
He was just that type of person. You knew because there has been lots of people you’ve encountered who had his type of personality and you understood his character completely.
Hence, the type of person he was needed care because they weren’t used to people caring for them. He needed the conciliatory affection because he craves for it even though he hardly says he don’t; and even when he does receives it, the brightest way to do it is to push that person away because he knew he didn’t deserve the tender care.
“You’re no monster for me,” you genuinely spoke with all your heart. Geralt’s stoic expression seeming to waver as you’ve given him a look of appreciation for everything he did for you, “—You’ll never be because I know you have a good heart,”
He gazed at you even longer than he should, eyebrows in a pained twist that created a frown etched on his face. What were you even saying? Your mind was literally a ball of yarn right now as you stand in front of him; thoughts flying elsewhere as you started to panic because you wanted something off your chest before you go. Permanently.
Therefore, your mind thought it was the right moment to confess such feelings that you knew it wouldn’t ever be said once you go back, you snapped your head away as you cringed for your stupidity, “—andthatIlikeyoubutnobodyneedstoknowthatbecauseIneverconfessedtoanymanever! Like really really like you. My heart is just–just pounding like a drum whenever you’re around—”
It was fast. A mere whisper of your heart being a YOLO little bitch by speaking out your feelings like a crazed woman offering some type of sacrifice as you were citing spells to your own; that type of fast talking that won’t get any normal person to understand the heck you wanted to comprehend.
You were idiotic enough to forget that he wasn’t any type of normal.
Geralt’s hum seem to stop your panicking mental state. His hum sounded perplexed and utterly…amused.
You swallowed the nervous jitters down your throat before opening an eye to see him cocking his head to the side, judging your embarrassed self and probably judging you from even confessing despite knowing it would be a one-sided affection from the witcher.
“Midget.” you’ve heard your conscience speaking to you, his tone somewhat quieter but still in that gruff voice of his that made your insides tingle. Your eyes was squinted shut as you looked away, avoiding his stares and went on with your audible monologue, “Oh my God, I should’ve wished first before confessing like a lovestruck high school girl,”
Geralt couldn’t help but subtly clear his throat. You always never fail to amaze him in terms of your panicking, clumsy gestures. He raised a surprised brow, thoroughly understanding what has happened prior to your rants.
“Midget.”
“You didn’t hear anything!” you squealed and held onto the handle of the Djinn, furiously tapping it with your index finger in sheer embarrassment for the failed confession. The witcher clicked his tongue, shifting on his own burly weight and keeping his teeth together as he tried to think of an answer to your sudden confession.
“Hmm.”
“What do you mean hmm? IT WAS JUST A WHISPER!?”
Jaskier had his forehead furrowed in utter curiosity, just hearing the soft mumbles and your yelping kept his curiosity at bay. Yet, he’d heard you screaming, “Small rat, don’t you know that witchers have heightened senses and he understood you a lot? Probably even hear your heart pounding fast every time you’re—”
You’ve snapped your eyes open, realizing you were covering your face away from the witcher who was faintly smirking down at you with an unfathomable twinkle in his eyes that weirded you out. However, Jaskier’s words seeming to whack you in the head for being stupid and not asking more for what the witcher’s abilities consists of.
“Wait, what? He can even hear my—I SHOULDN’T HAVE SAID THAT!” His super hearing caught you off-guard. You didn’t expect that he had that kind of skill because all you knew was that he was strong and exceptionally good at using his swords.
Well, the news definitely shocked you to the core. You were mouthing words at Jaskier as the bard narrowed his eyes back, not understanding a thing from your silent mouthing of words as you wanted the ground to eat you alive. “WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME, THEN?!”
Your hostile reactions was surely bewildering the bard, “Why? What did you tell him, Y/N?”
“Midget.”
You’ve heard Geralt’s stern baritone pitch of his, thus igniting a fast shake of your head as you could feel the heat travelling up in your face like a jet plane, ignoring the witcher who stood tall before you, “NOTHING, Jaskier! I’m so stupid!”
“Your reaction doesn’t mean nothing…”
The discomfort was making you deal with a lot of things. Rejection, anxiety and being a butter finger. Your eyes caught the Djinn wrapped around your fingers as you tried to cover your face from the witcher. So, you’ve did the inevitable and ungracefully held onto the seal before giving Geralt a once over.
Hence, you didn’t know what he was thinking when he suddenly ceased your wrists from doing so.
His bright amber eyes looked at you in warning, meeting yours in a reluctant shadow of his emotions when you’ve held onto the seal looking like he had a change of heart and didn’t want it to happen.
Maybe, it wasn’t too bad to let you stay for a little more while. Just a week or maybe more. His consciousness spoke at the back of his Ivory head. He wanted to make sure of something; if it was really destiny trying to play with his emotions for whatever bullcrap he was feeling when he’d heard your confession.
“Midget!” roughly scolded Geralt as he’d realized you already had opened the seal before he even stopped you. Jaskier had Cirilla and Kolby behind a far end tree as they watched you both struggle from trying to open the Djinn prior to your confession.
Both of you held onto the seal. Eyes locked onto each other; his in utmost dismay and worry as the pitcher was ajar from the seal, currently unimpeded from its body. Then, there was a strong ripple of the brisk wind clawing down your feet, crawling up the curves of your bodice in a way that could frighten you because it was not any normal.
The whistle of the wind came in with hushed voices that you couldn’t understand nor recognized. An invisible phantom of cold fingers reaching your head like it wanted to crush your skull as the voices whispered louder; like a spell that you couldn’t comprehend.
Your knees were giving up from the pain it wanted to bestow. Those eyelids of yours fluttering shut as the spirit was trying to suck on the energy you only had. But, you didn’t flop on the ground as you could feel tangible warmth surrounding your body; not letting you fall nor letting go.
The cluster of wind became stronger. You’ve heard him yell back, keeping you as close as he can and felt strong, calloused fingers grab onto the side of your face; shaking you awake as he kept you standing still, “Make your wish!” he loudly demanded amongst the rustle of everything.
The pitcher loosely lost its touch from you as it fell to the ground. A wish. You needed to make wishes. Your eyes drooped, blinking in a daze as your vision caught the only thing in your fore sight.
A medallion. His medallion. A witcher’s medallion that was currently vibrating on his chest like something alarming was happening or was nearby.
“I-I wish…” you whispered more so to yourself, hearing the witcher groan out loud as he tried hard to keep you still. The force trying to keep you both apart but Geralt wasn’t backing down nor did he plan on letting go.
Jaskier, Cirilla and Kolby had their palms over their ears from the harsh wind encircling them. Keeping still behind the huge Oak tree. Then, the winds abruptly ceased as they were crouched behind for cover.
You were unconscious for one second; your whole weight given to the witcher as he had an arm on the small of your back, your face tightly smothered on his hairy chest that you awfully find endearing and pleasing. You’ve inhaled a long breath like you weren’t given oxygen, batting your eyelashes up at the witcher who was supporting all your weight with his strength.
A listless look for the witcher was all it took for him to narrow his eyes back at you, checking for any signs that you weren’t you. Though, none. You were okay and…you were still there with them.
The bard peeked his head out, checking what happened when he seen you with complete limbs and being hugged by the witcher himself. Jaskier shrugged to whatever the hell happened and hollered, “Well, that was pretty much an anticlimax for the second time.”
Gently, the witcher pulled you away from him. His strong fingers clasped upon your shoulders as he eyed you very seriously. The sudden shift of the wind keeping him uneasy as he didn’t trusted the harmless process of having your wishes. “What did you wish for, Midget?”
You shook your head from the delicate pain in your head; sighing as you wearily told him, trying to give him a smile that appeared thoroughly forced because you kept on wincing and holding onto your temples, “Don’t wishes shouldn’t be told? Because it never comes true when it does? Especially when you wish upon the stars? I’m not telling it—”
Your words were cut short by a shrilling scream that made Jaskier, Cirilla and Kolby jumped from behind their tree; hastily striding to where you were. “Stay back!” the latter ceased them from coming any closer as you fell on the ground, back flat and your back arched in a horrifying way.
The veins in your throat was throbbing as you felt pain in the valley of your breast. A part that was scorching hot like you were being burnt alive. You painfully whimpered as your body felt fluid, desperately grasping onto your chest to relieve the pain or try to take off whatever causes it but there was none.
You yelped another loud scream; feeling it boring holes inside your body and in your heart. Geralt hurriedly knelt in panic, the panic suddenly crashing him like a freight train as his face was stern in confusion. He’d held onto the side if your neck, his thumb stroking your jaw which got you hissing as the pain incredibly added another; like a gas to the flames as you’ve moaned from the intolerable pain.
“Cáerme,” You’ve suddenly hushed, hearing the unfamiliar voices violently ruining your peace; making everything hurt as you whispered it out loud.
The witcher couldn’t help but stare you down in ponder and utter worry. He heard you. A word that sounded familiar but he didn’t quite understand as it only took a person who was an expertise in it that could interpret the words you started to say.
“Saov,” Geralt’s breath hitched, golden eyes agape and his expression in thorough shock as he tried shaking your body to wake you up from whatever is trying to possess you.
It was like fighting for something you could never see.
“Y/N!”
Amber eyes. Chalky white hair. A distinguishable face was the only image in your head as you could hear Geralt’s angered voice screaming ‘no!’ in the background; a blurry image sketched inside your head as he was fighting knights and unfamiliar people surrounding his family who came with him.
Including you.
With Jaskier and Cirilla who had blood staining their clothes as the night swallows her loud cries.
“Raenn,”
Despite of the witcher’s warning, the bard scooted off to where you were; dragging Cirilla with him as Kolby trailed like a pup. Howling at the same time as you screamed once more, “Geralt, what’s happening?!”
You’ve suddenly snapped your eyes opened as you threw your head back, the color of your eyes giving Jaskier a fright as he also knelt before you, his eyes bulging out of his eye sockets as he saw black. Raven black.
“Certainly not the small rat!” the bard shrieked before pulling away from peering down at you, falling onto his back as he gave Geralt a once over.
His brawny physique was crouched beside you, his wild, disheveled hair framing his face as he loudly groaned out loud like he was also in deep pain, seeming to hold onto his chest like he was having a toxic heart attack.
“Aep.”
Your words. It was used for magic and spells. Next thing Geralt knows is that he was suddenly pushed off the ground, his back hitting the ground with a loud thud as he felt phantom fingers keeping him steady and still. He harshly breathed through his nose, struggling with the force that was keeping him down.
Though, to no use; he couldn’t. It was some sort of potent spirit.
“Yn.”
Every word you say was filling vile inside his chest. It hurt as much as you did. But, he could withstand the pain more than you do as he was roughly growling beneath his chest.
“Geralt?!” Jaskier and Cirilla yelled out in chorus when they’ve seen him get hauled back by some unforeseen creature. Their focal point on Geralt that they didn’t notice you hurriedly crawling towards the witcher like a possessed woman.
You sat on his shredded, prominent torso once you’ve reached the witcher, tilting your head to the side as your eyes were completely pitch black. His eyelids fell shut once he was dragged down; Geralt was unconscious. You’ve held a palm in front of his face before uttering one last speech that certainly didn’t come from yourself. It was a bedevilled version of you that had no control over your system.
“Vatt'ghern.”
With that, you’ve leaned down very closely to his face. Warm breath hitting his face as you were tilting your head like a single strand of string can only be passed onto both of your lips together. The witcher sighed as he does so, face in a peaceful state as an unpredictable line of dark smoke escaped your lips, streaming down his ajar lips of the witcher who was down and unconscious.
Jaskier and Cirilla couldn’t move. They were dumbstruck at the scene that unfolded before them. All of your energy was taken from you as the possession has started and so, you’ve dropped dead on the ground. Closely beside Geralt as a blurry vision of you dropping on the rocky ground in the night sky ended your consciousness.
It was a blurry image that had you seeing Geralt run over for you, his face covered in grime and blood as he appeared to be on the verge of crying.
As your head fell on the ground with a soft thud; without warning, the witcher snapped his eyes open. Thick, robust fingers grasping onto his medallion that laid on his sturdy, bewhiskered chest. His eyelids drooping in total weary as he remembered a short event that concluded when he’d shortly fallen off in unconsciousness; giving him a dream as to why you were bound to him; destined to be with him forever.
The witcher saw a future with you. It wasn’t just any ordinary dream that he had because this time; he was euphoric in it. Utterly happy and smiling with you in the picture.
Destiny really never fails to fuck him hard for the second damn time.
YES. THIS IS ANOTHER ONE OF MY FAVE CHAPTERS THAT I’VE WRITTEN. Guess what midget wished for?
Taglist: @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @vania-marie @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-starfleet @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernatural @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer @marvelousell @kingniazx @angelias134 @tapismyforte @chook007
#geralt of rivia#geralt#geralt of rivia x reader#geralt of rivia x you#geralt of rivia x y/n#geralt x you#witcher geralt#geralt x reader#geralt x y/n#geralt x female reader#geralt of rivia fic#geralt of rivia series#henry cavill#henry cavill x you#henry cavill x y/n#henry cavill x reader#the witcher fanfic#the witcher#the witcher fic#jaskier#cirilla#geralt of rivia fanfic#white wolf#butcher of blaviken#Witcher of the night#witcher of the night series#WOTN#seb-owns-these-tatas
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Nightmare Before Christmas and Din because that line my god😍
Howdy anon!! 🤠 So writing this made me cry???🤷🏻♀️🤷🏻♀️ Idk why I'm like this. Also I'm well aware he would never do the helmet thing but it's fanfiction and it's just for fun y'all!! 😅 I hope you enjoy it!
Warnings: cursing, lil angst :)
Nightmare Before Christmas-"We're simply meant to be together"
~~~~~~~~~~
Heat bubbled off of your skin and grew thick and hot between you and the Mandalorian sitting in the captain's chair beside you.
Your arms crossed tightly over your chest and you let out a loud huff. "What do you think I did before you, Din?" You spat. "Was I just some fucking damsel waiting for a dashing Mandalorian to sweep me off my feet and keep me holed away in his ship for the rest of my life?"
The masked man grew eerily still. "You know you can leave anytime you want to." He responded, his voice warbling, trying to stop his emotions from spilling over.
You shook your head. "I don't-" You sighed heavily. "I don't want to leave, I just don't want you to babysit me-"
"Babysit you?" He stood from his seat, his helmet pushing the rift in between you even farther still. "I'm trying to keep you alive, cyar'ika."
"I can take care of myself, believe it or not." You stood your ground, your chin pointed up at him.
"Do it then!" He exclaimed. His hands flew up from his belt to wave in the air before you.
You breath was shallow and you could feel your anger pulsing under your eyes. "Do you mean that?" You asked softly. Your eyes studied the dark space where his eyes sat behind his helmet.
The Mandalorian fell silent, his helmet dropping to look at the ship floor.
Your breathing picked up as your heart began to prick with emotion. "Din, if you don't say something right now, I'm walking out that door."
Din said nothing, just shifted his weight and scratched at a scuff mark on the ship floor with his boot.
You looked over his form as your lip quivered. You could see every gentle moment with the armored man. The first time he had taken off his gloves and touched your skin, how he always threw his body in front of yours at the first sign of trouble. You could see it all and forced yourself to accept that none of it had meant as much to him as it had to you.
Hot tears began to spill down your face and suddenly you felt embarrassed to be standing in front of him. Embarrassed that you had ever thought he had ever felt the same way about you. Walking hastily, you marched out of the ship and onto the planet of Dantooine below. Your footprints were messy at the pace you were walking and the harsh wind of the desert planet whipped through your clothes easily.
Your heart was flipping and flopping in your chest and your mind started racing, thinking of how you would get back to your home planet from here.
Din's voice barely carried over the wind, your name in his mouth sounded ragged and well-used.
You thought you were imagining it at first, but there it was again, closer now and it sounded different-alive. Out from behind a microphone.
You turned in the sand and saw him standing behind you. His face not shielded by his beskar and exposed for you to see.
Your breath caught in your chest as you looked over his features for the first time. The mustache you felt tickle your skin and the brown mop of hair that shed all over the ship floor. His dark eyes that were powerful enough to ensnare you even through his metal helmet.
"What are you doing?" You asked, much too quietly for him to hear you.
The sun beat down on the two of you mercilessly as you moved towards each other. When he was in earshot you repeated yourself, "What are you doing?"
Din shook his head, his eyes seeing your face for the first time without the tint of beskar. He brought a tender hand up to your face and took in air as your skin met his glove. "Don't leave."
Your eyes couldn't help but linger on his full lips, the want of them tingling down your spine. You had to force air in and out of your lungs, for your mind was completely overtaken by the rigid lines of Din's features and the way his hair moved in the Dantooine wind. You nodded yes, and the word "K." was all you could get out.
"I just..." He shook his head and sighed. "I can't do this without you anymore. If you're not with me, what's the point?"
"Din..." You breathed, reaching out to touch his face for the first time.
He closed his eyes as you touched his skin and you could almost feel his love for you thumping under his skin.
"I'm sorry if I..." He stopped and pulled his lips into his mouth. "You know I just want to protect you, right?" His dark eyes bore into yours and you felt like it was very possible that you would fall right into them.
You smiled softly and nodded.
He moved his hands to clutch your shoulders. "You're my top priority. Always. Sometimes I don't think and I just act and..." He trailed off, his thoughts being carried away on the Dantooine wind.
"I know." You said, your hand dragging downwards across his chest. "I just want you to be able to be free and not worry about me."
The Mandalorian smirked and looked down to your feet below. "I'm always going to worry about you, cyar'ika."
Your cheeks grew hot at his pet name for you. "Well, stop it." You teased.
He snickered and ran his gloved hand over your hair. "I guess we're simply meant to be together then, huh?"
You nodded. "I guess so."
#hai writes#mandotober#din djarin x y/n#din djarin x reader#nightmare before christmas#spooky prompts
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Long post but uhh I don't know if you can insert a cut on mobile so sorry in advance, skip if you're not abut reading about Lan Xichen and ABO-verse characterization I guess? Vague spoilers for MDZS if you haven't read or watched it yet too, lmk if I miss a smth u think I should tag for
Okay y'all don't come at me with a pitchfork or anything but like... I've read my way through so. Much. A/B/O fic in MDZS/The Untamed ship tags and I kinda can see y'all Alpha Twin Jades if I squint, and I have opinions on the stereotypes/tropes but I can't focus enough to pin down why it bothers me so I'll just drop this take for y'all:
Instead of alpha Lan Xichen, how bout omega Lan Xichen who's supersensitive to pack/intersect dynamics growing up in the hyper repressive Cloud Recesses that further encourages him as sect heir and then leader to not make ripples and just compromise or mediate like the world's gonna end bc he just doesn't feel safe on a biological level if tensions are high and shits bout to go down?
Like hear me out, he leaves his home on fire never knowing if he'll return or ever see his family again and he feels uprooted in all the worst ways, head and heart screaming in equal measure that is your pack, you were sworn to nurture them how could you let it get this far with Obey shufu, that might be his dying wish and If anything happens to Wangji, Gusu Lan will need another heir and suddenly, he runs into Meng Yao, who smells like a safe haven, someone he can trust, someone who is not a threat.
Like you can even interpret his status as the number one ranked gongsi as him refining a natural talent through overcompensating because internalized biases? I like to imagine Wangji being petty when people say shit like that about his big brother around him from a very young age, because in comparison to Wangji's more distant personality, xiongzhang's warmth and natural empathic drive to take care of Gusu Lan is obviously much better suited to the role of leader (less stuff said about the fiasco that was Qingheng-jun's marriage, the better, and this is an interesting dynamic to have no matter what Wangji ends up presenting as).
It would fit in well with why Xichen seems to still believe in Meng Yao for far longer than anyone else does, why he always seems to walk a tightrope between trying past the point of no return and failing to reconcile, and why he tends to emphasize the group to the detriment of the components of said group. Him equating the well-being of his pack(s) with safety is just a hornet's nest of unresolved issues just waiting to become angst fodder. I'm aware this is more of a cultural thing, but honestly the aggressive independence of an alpha don't jibe for me for him (though it might be interesting to see someone interpret how his emotional repression interacts with alpha Xichen instincts, and how that all comes to a head instead?) because Xichen's seclusion after Guanyin Temple like this has more angst potential if his secondary pack disintegrates so spectacularly (and he blames himself) while at the same time Wangji has finally found Wei Wuxian again and while on some level Lan Xichen is happy for his Didi, on some instinctual level Lan Huan is going DANGER DANGER DANGER bc this is the guy that Wangji would have broken himself for, no one is allowed to do that to my brother and especially not you, guy who's been playing with his heart with a little dash of why are you leaving? All these years I know you loved him but why do you get to be happy at the cost of my own happiness? I have no brothers left, not you, not Huaisang, not the ones I've killed. Where is my safety now?
Alternatively, him failing to reconcile his sworn brothers + Wei Wuxian coming back into their lives just to rip a Jin Guangyao-sized hole in his life takes on a different flavor if Xichen is an alpha or a beta like imagine him getting real protectively aggressive over the one brother left that he can still claim as his without reservation. Like he's inclined to think more kindly about Wei Wuxian after everything but boy oh boy what a great time for all that repressed anger, despair and guilt that you didn't have time for when you were bandaging your baby brother's back and being a caregiver for a recovering young'un and being Sect Leader at the same time to suddenly come out, huh. I think Xichen got robbed not being able to actually get fucking pissed at him on Wangji's behalf. We could use some cathartically mad Xichen in the fandom. Like I know y'all like to joke that Jiang Cheng is angry grape but 1) let them both have some kind of venting mechanism because that's better than simply containing it, arguably and 2) I'd argue that when Jiang Cheng actually does get mad and not just irritated it's not without some reason. I've seen sad Xichen, happy Xichen, smooth af Xichen, drunk Xichen, "I know something that you don't" Xichen, etc., but angry Xichen? Also, guilty Xichen is a rare flavor hereabouts
Like you could also interpret Xichen as a beta who's always kind of skirting the edge of the dynamic between the other 2/3rds of 3zun who are each one of the other two secondary genders (one of each in the Triad) which might also explain how he seems to be so unruffled all the time; rather than sublimating his instincts or leaning so hard into them he doesn't know how not to be politely protective, he kind of exists in a space where scent/genders doesn't subconsciously play in as much to his behavior (or even make that a Gusu Lan Sect specialty idk) and just. Steers people into that which tends to be kinda mediating in a nudging way I don't know I'm getting fuzzy on the details but world building fam.
Anyway I think the idea of Xichen having to navigate a world in which he has to deal with people who pepper him with microaggressions about his secondary gender if he presents as omega or a world where his status as a beta blinds him just enough to the degree and real nature of the tension in the brotherhood is kind of fascinating, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.
#hot spicy take maybe idk#Lan Xichen (Lan Huan)#lan xichen#lan huan#Lan Wangji (Lan Zhan)#lan wangji#lan zhan#Wei Wuxian (Wei Ying)#Wei Wuxian#mentions of 3zun/Venerated Triad#3zun#character meta#let Lan Xichen have and express a range of emotions#Ive also got a bone to pick with ppl who overwrite Jiang Cheng as always angery tsundere and im just. sigh I remember reading this in#Hetalia except then it was Romano and not much has changed I guess like look#even if you just LOOK at how Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling interact in CQL#like yeah Jiang Cheng seems to hate the kid ifnyou just go by the surface dialogue but p.sure theres a moment where JL defends JC to WWX#rhat JC wasnt gonna actually break hisnlegs#and theres a post on how JC automatically comforts JL when he has The Breakdown that sums this up nicely but I dont for the life of me#remember who was talking abt it sorry#alao whem I say fuckign pissed immean TESLLY fuckign pissed on Wangji's behalf even tho Inalso habe opinions on how ppl tend to write LWJ
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Sight For Sore Eyes
"Quarantine is making me really sad so could you maybe write a soft George request where the reader is American and they have a long distance relationship and haven’t seen each other for awhile but then she is able to fly in and surprise him, maybe with some help from his family (*bonus they have a sweet romantic night in and they’re both just so happy) also this doesn’t have to do anything with being quarantined. Just a general visit to London for the reader to see her favorite person lol xx"
Quarantine do be hitting hard though. I've been struggling with wifi but we're pushing through y'all! Stay sane out there, nonny. ♡
w/c: 3k
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You met George when he'd spent some time filming on location, just outside of your city. He and some of his cast stumbled into the late-night dinner where you and your friends were having shakes and sharing laughs.
One of your dear friends pointed across the way to the group of dazzling strangers, and pretty soon your entire table was swooning over the same silent, sweet looking blonde boy. He kept casting glances toward where you all sat ogling him, stifling giggles and averting gazes when his saucer eyes looked up and over.
When the guy got up and sauntered toward your table, you thought surely your best friends wandering eyes had offended him and he'd come over to say something about it. A hush fell over your friend group as the stranger stood glancing at everyone before his eyes landed on yours.
"What's your name?" He asked gently, in an accent you hadn't expected. Everything about his question caught you off guard, and your friends tore their eyes away from the guy then, so they could gape at you.
"What's yours?" You wondered through a small laugh, eyes locked on his sparkling blue pair. A smile stretched across his face as your friends tried to remain calm. Your waitress appeared, nudging the stranger a few steps away to deliver a couple of milkshakes, but the pretty guy didn't go very far. He came back into your view soon after, to tell you his name.
That's how it all started. You thanked every luck star that aligned that night, for George to have wound up so far from his home and landed just near yours long enough to meet you.
After he'd finished filming, you stayed in touch. It was no secret that there was something going on between the two of you and when you finally got the guts to address it, George seemed relieved.
"Now I have no reason to be afraid of asking to see you again when I'm back in the states." He chuckled, voice low and sweet over the phone.
After then George made it a point to come and see you every time he stopped in America. And there were many stops. You were pretty sure half of his visits had little to do with his job, but you weren't complaining.
You were always glad to have him near, to show him around your city and stop in that little old diner where you met. George said it was because they had the best cup of coffee in all the US, but you knew better than that.
He kept coming back for you. Enough times to have met (and charmed) most of your family; and to make friends with the little old ladies who frequented the park the pair of you liked to walk around.
But because of money, and time, and a few other miscellaneous frustrations, you had yet to visit him. Every time rough plans started to patch themselves together around a plane ticket to London, something would go wrong. George would say "It's the thought that counts!"
But you were tired of daydreaming, as you hadn't seen your boyfriend face to face for months in a row. He was away, filming and sleeping close to home. And when George's project wound down, and as his birthday neared, you decided enough was enough. It was high time you'd done what George was always doing for you.
You took to your contacts, finding his sister's name. You'd never met her, but she'd popped into enough of George's facetime calls for you to feel as though you had. Once, she even stole his phone and ran to the loo so she could cry to you about something she couldn't seem to tell anyone else.
So as you rang the girl, you felt more excited than scared for the plan you'd been brewing.
After making sure she was alone and ready to scheme, you and George's sister spent an hour piecing together the perfect surprise.
You planned to book a flight for the morning before George's birthday, land in London that afternoon and stay with his sister without him finding out until the day after. It was a grand scheme indeed but with his sister's vow of silence, and you blaming all your extra-long shifts (to afford the trip) on a few newbies getting sacked, George didn't seem to catch on at all.
There were times you had to pretend to be a little extra somber when George wondered when you'd each other again. And one night after a few glasses of wine, you almost spilled your guts over a phone call. But you didn't thank heavens!
By the time you started packing, chattering to his sister over the phone, you were dead nervous. You'd never met his family, hell, you'd never even been to the UK. But his sister assured you that she would be at the airport in time to fetch you and happily hide you away without a hitch.
As you lugged your suitcase to the waiting gate at the airport, your phone buzzed in your pocket. George had sent a text, asking if he could call in a couple of hours. You laughed at the timing and thought fast about how to respond without sounding suspicious.
You settled for telling him you had a busy day and that you'd call when you were able, hoping he'd just think you were swamped with work.
With that, you turned your phone off and bit your nails as you boarded the plane. After a few too many failed attempts to plan a trip much like this, it was finally happening and George had no idea.
His sister was at the waiting gates, dancing in place with her arms outstretched. She jumped into a hug and laughed over how exciting this whole thing was. She was so pretty, with eyes that matched her brothers and a heart just as warm as his.
"Let's be off then, we've got to hide you away!" She laughed, taking your suitcase and throwing it in her car. You'd hardly processed the fact that you were finally in London, far more excited for the prospect of seeing George very soon.
On the ride, you chatted about tomorrow and how George seemed none the wiser. His sister invited him round for dinner, a usual celebration he wouldn't second guess. He'd never expect to show up to you.
You thanked his sister for being so accommodating and excited to help with your plan to surprise George. She was thrilled to have finally met you and said so all the way to her flat.
When you arrived, her very happy dog Lola leaped up to lick you, your second warm welcome of the day. Your host ordered take away and left you to settle in as she dashed into the shower for the night. You relaxed in the spare room, propping your suitcase in the corner and settling on the twin bed.
You finally turned your phone back on to find a missed text from George, checking in on you sometime earlier in the day. You took the moment alone to ring him, somehow missing him more even though he was (unknowingly) closer than before.
"Sorry I've been away, love. How are you?" You sighed, relishing the quiet space.
"S'alright darling, I know you've been working a lot," George assured right away. "How was it today?" He asked.
"Uh, good, yeah good." You fumbled, unable to lie to him but still trying to cling to your anonymity. "How was your day?" You shifted the subject, knowing all your awkward nerves would soon be worth it.
George rambled about meeting up with some friends who insisted on taking him for birthday drinks. He mentioned being lucky to have people in his life who cared so much for him, and who he cared for just as well.
"And my sister's invited me round for dinner tomorrow. Her idea of celebration has always been centered around food." He laughed and you do too, but only because he's clearly oblivious.
"I do wish I was with you, though." George's voice grew somber over the phone and your heart ached and sped up all at once. You hated how sad he sounded as he talked about missing you, but still, he wouldn't have to for long.
Just then, the doorbell rang. Ah, your take away had arrived, and Lola was just as excited to greet the delivery person. Her barks echoed through the hall as you shot up from your slump on the bed.
"Was that a dog? Where are you?" George asked curiously, increasing your heart rate by a million. His sister was still in the bathroom, and the impatient delivery person had rung the doorbell again.
"I'll call you back." You panicked, hanging up the phone in a rush as you hurried to answer the door and the dog. The kid on the porch seemed annoyed to have waited so long. You took the bags of food from his grasp, pressing your back to the door after it shut.
"You almost gave us away, Lola." You nodded toward the little dog who cocked her head to the side as she eyed to take away.
When it was your turn to wash up, you were afraid to call George back, even in the quiet tucked away room. You just had a silly feeling that he'd surely figure you out, if you did. So, you opted to text George not to worry, that you'd talk with him tomorrow. Which was so much more than true.
You joined his sister in the living room, where she'd set up your dinner, proper slumber party style, leaving some sitcom on mute in the background while you talked for hours on end. You told her how Lola almost ruined your perfect plan and she laughed through a bevy of examples of times George was too daft to see what was right in front of him.
And while you traded secrets and stories and split bits of dinner, you'd nearly forgotten how excited you'd been to surprise George. His sister's company was so familiar and fun, you joked about calling the whole plan off and spending the rest of the weekend laughing together.
But the morning came quickly. You fought off jet lag through bouts of excitement as you helped George's sister make a birthday cake from scratch. She begged you to tell her the story of how you'd met her brother.
"He's told me a dozen times but I want to hear your side of the story." She laughed, warming your heart. You'd been a bit nervous to make a valuable first impression when you'd first landed in the sweet girl's home, but it didn't take you long to realize George had already done that for you. He seemed to have told his sibling all about you, and she seemed to really care.
When the afternoon rolled closer to the time George had been invited over, every minute passed like an hour. You started to feel bad for keeping your phone turned off. What if he thought you forgot his birthday? Oh well, you figured, the wait was totally worth it.
"God where is he?" His sister complained, turning off the oven that had been keeping dinner warm.
"Fashionably late." You laughed stretching from where you'd been relaxed at the table over cups of tea.
"He does spend too much time choosing what to wear. Always has." She shrugged, accepting her realization.
When the fateful knock on the door came, you were just applying a fresh coat of lip gloss in the vanity of the guest room.
"He's here!" Your host rounded the corner, clutching the doorway with a wicked grin.
You beamed up to the girl, setting down your lipgloss and hurrying to trade places. Last night after dinner had been eaten and you couldn't stop giggling, the two of you planned out just how to handle this moment.
You waited in the doorway, listening to the front door open in the distance.
"Happy birthday!" George's sister greeted from far off. It was finally happening!
"Thank you, kid," George responded sweetly, the sound of his muffled voice like music to your ears. You listened as his sister went on...
"Everything is ready, I figured we could set up the garden table since it's so warm out."
"Shall I help?" George asked, polite as ever.
"Of course. Uh, go fetch my Bluetooth speaker from the spare room?" His sister was so good at making it sound like a passing thought. You glanced at the little blue speaker on the nightstand and bit your lip in a smile as footsteps grew closer your way. You leaned against the doorway as Lola approached, proudly leading the way like she was in on the surprise too.
When George finally rounded the corner, you resisted jumping in his arms to see the look on his face.
"I know it's your birthday but it is rude to be so late, you know?"
George stalled, big blue saucer eyes darting across your figure like he couldn't believe you were real. Your smile grew as his eye pierced into yours again, just before he reached out to wrap you in the best hug you'd ever had. His hands pressed you against him as your wrapped your arms around his neck, laughing into his shoulder.
"You're here!" George excitedly rang into your hair. He stressed each word as if to ask how and when you'd managed to pull this over on him.
"And now, so are you!" You chuckled as you pulled away from your embrace to get a good look at the guy you'd come all this way to see. You placed a hand on the side of his soft face as his eyes stayed wide and grew a little glossy.
"Happy birthday, love." You cooed, searching his sparkling eyes and leaning in to press your lips against his. His hands remained splayed around your waist, holding you close as he returned the soft kiss.
After a few sweet pecks, George lowered his head into the crook of you next, slinking his arms around you to hold you close once more.
Through some quiet mewls and sniffles, George rambled about how much he loved you and how he couldn't believe you were here and how glad he was for it. You smiled at him, soaking up every babble and the sight of him before you.
"Come on ya big softie, it's dinner time." Your fingers intertwined with George's as you pulled him down the hall and into the back garden where his sister had set up the patio table with a cloth and pretty patterned plates.
"Where's my speaker?" She demanded to know through a laugh, resting a plate of warm food down.
You spun in your heels with a giggle and hurried to retrieve the forgotten device, even after all your careful planning.
"Now it's a party." George's sister declared, taking her speaker from your grasp and propping it on a nearby box of flowers. After giving Geoge the mission to play his favorite songs, she poured wine for each of you saving her own glass for last.
"Guys, I don't know what to say... thank you." George cast his eyes across the table and reached out to grab your hand in his once more, giving you that same dazzling glance you'd fallen for long ago.
Some soft pop tunes crackled through the tiny speaker in the corner, and the sun was warm on your back. As you sat and started to eat the warm expertly cooked meal, after you gushed over the taste, George demanded to know every detail of the plan you'd pulled off. You told him how you thought it up but you owed a big portion of the smooth sailing to his sister who went out of her way to help you.
George admired his sister's selfless act of kindness as you stood to pour everyone some more wine.
"Yeah well I don't know how to break it to you, but she's living with me now. You can visit on weekends though I suppose." His sister joked, tossing you a playful wink.
"Yeah, nice try." George reached over to you and pulled you into his lap, keeping you close.
"First my dog, now this." His sister feigned offense, glancing at Lola happily curled under George's feet. The pup had been hot on his trail all night long.
"It is his birthday, after all." You reminded, throwing an arm over George's shoulder, happy to have settled so close after far too long away.
"Oh, that's right." His sister stood with an excitable grin, scurrying off to go get the cake you'd made this morning.
"I'm so glad you're here." George sighed, his hands holding you in place against him, there was no place you'd rather have been.
"Did you get everything you wanted for your big day?" You asked George, who hadn't spoken of a parcel or present besides all the good company he'd been glad to keep.
"Ask me again, tonight." George gazed up at you with a smile that grew when you shook your head with a laugh.
"It has been lovely to stay with your sister but I can't wait to go home with you."
George always called your place home, when he was there. But you realized now, it had nothing to do with location. George was your home. And you were his.
And as beautiful as London has so far seemed, you planned to stay in this visit, with the guy you came all the way to see; who was glad as always, to see you too.
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