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yourgothiccqueen · 6 months

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LN4 - “Clueless”

Request: Requested by @anniesimpson2128 🖤

Summary: Lando has been flirting with Y/N for as long as he can remember. Unluckily for him, she hasn’t noticed.

Pairings: Lando Norris x Female Reader

Warnings: None! Just a fluffy little story ❤️

Word count: 1.6k

You lay on the grass, Lily lazing beside you, as the warmth of the sun beats down on your face. You use your arm to shield your eyes from the harsh rays, feeling your skin begin to flush already. It had been a long couple of months, traveling around the world with your best friend Lily. You'd befriended her a few years ago, and had instantly clicked, becoming attached at the hip ever since.

Being a freelance journalist, and always up for an adventure, you'd jumped at the opportunity to accompany her to almost all of her boyfriend (and your close friend), Alex's, races.

Legs stretched out in front of you, you allow yourself to relax, readying yourself for the nap of a lifetime.

Before you can doze off, you feel a sudden shadow cool your face, and sense someone is stood above you.

"Hello there, gorgeous." A familiar tone smiles.

"Hi Lando!" You grin up at the sun kissed, curly haired man. "Joining me for a sunbathe?"

"Don't tempt me." He lifts his arms up above his head to stretch, and you catch a glimpse of his toned stomach. "I've got two more meetings today before I can relax properly. Can probably have a five minute break though."

Lando Norris - the incredibly talented, sarcastic and sassy F1 driver.

You'd met him through Alex, of course, a few years ago now, and had quickly become firm friends with the young driver. He was gorgeous, sure, but you'd never been anything more than friends. He didn't see you that way.

Platonic with a capital P.

Lando sits down next to you on the grass, taking a momentary breather from his busy schedule.

"Looking beautiful as always, Y/N." He beams at you, as you peek up at him through your lashes.

"Why thank you, Norris." You reply.

This was typical Lando. Always the smooth talker with every woman he meets.

"You wearing sun cream? You're gonna burn laying out here, it's fucking boiling." He says, gazing up to the sky, a hint of concern in his words.

"Yes, Dad." You joke. "I've got my factor 50 on, no need to stress."

"Good, good."

A moment of comfortable silence falls between you. You allow your eyes to flutter shut again. If they'd have been open, you'd have noticed Lando gazing down at you longingly, an unknown look in his eye.

"Gotta any plans for the rest of the day?" He quietly queries, a hopeful tone to his voice.

"Nothing much. Just chilling with Lily." You nod to the dozing woman beside you, dark sunglasses covering her eyes.

Lando's eyes light up slightly.

"I don't suppose you'd fancy..."

"LANDO!" A voice calls from the building behind you. "Back to work, mate!"

If you were sat any closer to Lando, you'd have heard the disappointed sigh leave his mouth.

"Duty calls - see you later, gorgeous." He smiles down at you.

"Bye Lan, have fun." You smile back, gently.

Lando treks off towards the building as Y/N closes her eyes once again, soaking in the sun.

Lily rolls her eyes under her glasses at how clueless her best friend could be.

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

Later that evening, you find yourself in Lily and Alex's hotel suite, searching Netflix for something to watch. You have dubbed yourself the 'third wheel' of their relationship for as long as you've known them, and thankfully they didn't mind the occasional extra company.

"Where's Lando this evening?" You ask, curious as to where he's gotten to. It's getting late, and he's usually done by now. Not that you track his schedule much, of course.

"Got held up in meetings, should be here soon though." Alex states. "What film do you want to watch?"

"Ooh, can we watch Pretty Woman?" Lily asks, gazing at Alex. "Please?!"

"Urgh, fine. If we must." He roles his eyes dramatically, but lets a small smile creep on to his face. He doesn't mind what they watch, as long as he gets to watch it with Lily.

"I hope Lando finishes soon - I don't want him to miss movie night. He deserves a break. That boy works too bloody hard!" You exclaim, making yourself comfy against the cushions.

Alex shoots Lily a look, both of them choosing not to acknowledge how evident it is that you care about Lando as more than a friend.

In perfect timing, the door opens as Lando makes his way inside. His hair is disheveled and he looks exhausted.

"Shit, you good?" Alex asks.

"Just a long day. I'll be fine." Lando yawns in response, stretching his arms.

He makes his way over to the sofa, immediately flopping down next to you. He presses a kiss to your forehead, which sure, should be weird amongst friends, but this was just typical Lando. You smile up at him in response.

"Anything I can do to make you feel better?" You ask, concern lacing your voice.

"Pizza?" He asks, hopeful.

"Already ordered some. They'll be here within the hour."

You know Lando well enough to know he's always hungry after a full day, so made sure there was food en route for when he got in.

"Hell yeah, see this, is why I love you!" He exclaims.

You giggle in response, shaking your head slightly as you look at the TV. You miss the way his eyes widen at what he's just said, and you miss the knowing glance he shares with Alex.

Just friends. You're just friends.

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

The night wears on, Alex and Lily retiring to go to bed halfway into the film. You and Lando persevere, tucking into the leftover pizza lazily as the credits begin to roll.

"Surprised you didn't go back to your room to sleep." You state. "I bet you're exhausted."

He shrugs. "Yeah, but I wanted to spend time with you. Haven't been able to see you much today."

"That's sweet." You smile at him.

You'd gotten closer to him as the film rolled on, and are now tucked comfortably into his side, able to feel his warmth. Your head rests against his shoulder.

"This is nice." He allows himself to whisper.

"What is?" You murmur sleepily against him.

"Nothing, don't worry. You getting tired?" He asks, gazing down at your closing eyes.

"Nope." You smile. "I'm wide awake."

"Sure you are, sleepy head." He says sweetly, one of his hands reaching up to stroke your hair. "You look very pretty when you're all tired and...cosy."

"You saying I don't look pretty any other time, Norris?" You smirk up at him, teasing him slightly.

"Hey, course I'm not!" He lets out a short laugh, before becoming slightly more serious. "You're pretty all the time. Gorgeous in fact."

You smirk at him "Aw Lando, are you flirting with me?"

"Duh." He replies simply. "Wasn't it obvious?"

You suddenly feel very awake. You had simply been joking. There was no way in hell that Lando Norris, your gorgeous, charismatic, sassy friend had seriously been flirting with you - right?

You sit up slightly "Wait, really?"

You gaze into his eyes, waiting to see a hint of a joke. There isn't one.

"Yeah, I've been flirting with you for the past year." He nudges his shoulder against yours, giving you a soft smile "Thanks for finally noticing."

You rack your brains of all the times over the past year Lando has called you beautiful, cared for you, and held you slightly closer than typical friends do. You'd thought that was just him. You didn't realise he was only acting that way with...you?

"Wait." You begin "You're flirting with me, because...?"

Lando rolls his eyes, but not unkindly. He allows himself to feel brave, resting his hand on your cheek.

"Once again, isn't it obvious?"

Oh.

"Oh!" You respond, finally putting the pieces together. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"I thought you knew I liked you!" He almost laughed, exasperated. "I mean, the flirting wasn't discrete Y/N!"

"I mean, I didn't know! I thought that was just you being, well, you!" You exclaim in response.

"You think I go round calling every girl I meet beautiful and want to spend every hour of the day with her?" He protests. "I mean, how many dates have you seen me go on since I met you?"

Once again you rack your brain, and come up with nothing.

He sees in your eyes that you fully understand how he feels, how he has felt all this time.

"Yeah." He says softly. "Was only you. Was only ever you."

You gaze up at him, his hand still resting on your cheek. Everything is falling into place, and you can almost sense how right it feels. It's always felt right with Lando.

It's your turn to be brave, as you inch closer to him, allowing your eyes to drop to his lips. Lando follows your lead, letting you take control of the moment. His breathing is shallow, filled with anticipation at the thing he hasn't even dared imagine over the last couple years, incase it never became a reality.

Yet here he was.

Your eyes flutter shut as you press your lips against his. You mold perfectly into him, as his hands move to your waist, pulling you closer. You allow your arms to wrap around his neck, deepening the kiss. Time stops. Neither of you breathe. Its electric and perfect and meant to be.

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

Lily and Alex awaken early morning, emerging from their room to find you and Lando entangled on the sofa. His shirt is on the floor, and you have a very visible lovebite on your neck.

"Oh my god." Lily half whispers half shouts. "Finally!"

"Jesus christ, I thought this day would never come. Back away quietly in case it's all a bloody dream!" Alex whispers, guiding Lily out of the room again as she giggles with joy.

They leave you and Lando, no longer third wheels, wrapped in each others bodies. Meant to be.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 imagine #formula one #fyp #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris one shot #lando norris x female reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x y/n #mclaren f1 #landonorris #lando norris fluff #alex albon

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evermoredeluxe · 1 month

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taylorswift: In summation

We have officially wrapped the European leg of The Eras Tour. With it came the most passionate crowds l've ever played for, new traditions in the show, and an entirely new era added in. It was a more hectic pace than we'd done before, and I'm so proud of my crew/ fellow performers for being able to physically perform that show and build our massive stage, take it apart, and make magic with so few days in between for recovery and travel. They're the most impressive people I know and I'm so lucky they gave The Eras Tour their time, their energy, and their expertise.

Walking onstage in London was a rollercoaster of emotions. Having our Vienna shows cancelled was devastating. The reason for the cancellations filled me with a new sense of fear, and a tremendous amount of guilt because so many people had planned on coming to those shows. But I was also so grateful to the authorities because thanks to them, we were grieving concerts and not lives. I was heartened by the love and unity I saw in the fans who banded together. I decided that all of my energy had to go toward helping to protect the nearly half a million people I had coming to see the shows in London. My team and I worked hand in hand with stadium staff and British authorities every day in pursuit of that goal, and I want to thank them for everything they did for us. Let me be very clear: I am not going to speak about something publicly if I think doing so might provoke those who would want to harm the fans who come to my shows.

In cases like this one, 'silence' is actually showing restraint, and waiting to express yourself at a time when it's right to. My priority was finishing our European tour safely, and it is with great relief that I can say we did that.

And then London felt like a beautiful dream sequence.

All five crowds at Wembley Stadium were bursting with passion, joy, and exuberance. The energy in that stadium was like the most giant bear hug from 92,000 people each night, and it brought me back to a place of carefree calm up there.

We had some EPIC surprise performances from my long time friends@teddysphotos, @florenceandthemachine, and @jackantonoff. Performing 'Florida!!!' with Flo for the first time was unforgettable and Ed took me right back to our old Red Tour memories. It was the most dizzying honor to become the first solo artist to play Wembley 8 times in one tour. To the fans who have seen us this summer, you'll always have the most sparkling place in my memories. You were a dream to perform for, dance with, and share those magical moments with. We'll see you all again when we resume The Eras Tour in October, but for now we get to take a much needed rest.

Thank you for the adventure of a lifetime.

May it continue...

💚💛💜❤️🩵🖤🩷🩶🤎💙🤍

📷: TAS Rights Management

#eras tour london 8 #eras tour #florence welch #ed sheeran #jack antonoff #taylor swift

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zhongrin · 2 years

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floaty companion

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, al haitham, childe, cyno, kaveh

◇ tags ◇ character!seelie, cuteness overload, no romantic pairing but your seelie loves you very much!!

◇ a/n ◇ this is largely inspired by @hiraya-rawr and @genshinarchives seelie!companion and seelie!reader concepts respectively. important: please don’t send in requests for seelie!reader on genshinarchives, she’s not writing for that concept anymore!

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

seelie!zhongli's antennae are abnormally longer than normal seelies and remind you of a dragon’s. his tail is a tad thicker than normal seelies too, and he has tiny claws on his stubby little arm. it’s just as unique as it is adorable.

pee-colored shining golden color. people have mistaken him for a huge mora coin whenever he curls into a ball and has most definitely tried to grab him.

because of this, whenever you’re traveling inside the city, he prefers to bury himself within your hair - or, if your hair is long enough and you wear them down, he would gladly use them as a curtain as he sits on your shoulder. otherwise, he’ll peek out from your coat or pocket. he’s still a curious one, after all!

when you’re out and about is when he will float alongside you, enjoying the scenery and fresh air. careful though, you might want to check on him every now and then, because sometimes he just stops to admire the view. grandpa behavior. oh and sometimes he’ll disappear and return with a pouch of mora… how did he get those? he’s just extremely lucky when it comes to mora, it seems. or maybe he has some seelie mora-seeking intuition. who knows?

always tries to sip on your cup of tea. always ends up 1) falling into the teacup or 2) poured tea all over himself. the day you got him a mini teacup he literally bounces in excitement on your palm.

seelie!al haitham is a silver colored ball (which will magically shimmer green under certain lighting) that trails after you quietly…. until he sees a bookstore that is. in which case he’ll pull on your clothes or ear so you take a detour.

people laugh at you when you tell them your seelie is literate, and they think you’re crazy when you say he’s fluent in at least twenty languages and counting. well, jokes on them, he’s helped you decipher runes and guide you to secret passages in all the ruins you’ve gone to explore.

basically, those trips almost always end up with you finding lost treasures or new valuable information, which meant more mora. which means, you’re kind of rich because of him, and so he demands payments in the form of books and cuddles.

he’s normally very docile but you had witnessed him headbutting a yellow-colored seelie with a brownish tint on its antennae that seemed to be curious of your presence and hovered a little too close for his liking. you think the poor thing is now probably stranded all the way to the sumeru desert. yeah… best not to anger him.

he’ll sometimes disappear off to archons-know-where by himself, but he always comes back within the day. and he always has a souvenir when he returns; from a torn page of a book (you think it’s poetry but you have no idea what it says because they’re written in a language you don’t know) to a freshly bloomed padisarah, it always ends up with you cradling him in your arms and him silently enjoying the extra attention.

poor seelie!kaveh fell onto your bag while you were resting up in your adventure of traveling around the sumeru desert. you take pity on his unconscious form and decide to carry him until he wakes, intending to look for his owner the soonest you return to caravan ribat….

only, what happened after that was him waking up, taking one good look at your face, and now he’s stuck onto you like glue. quite literally. you sleep that night and when you wake up the next day he has somehow sewn a little pocket on your coat for him to ride in.

he brings you flowers or shiny-looking stones at least five times every day. sulks (by burrowing into his ‘home’ on your coat and refusing to acknowledge you until you apologize) when you don’t take good care of said presents.

he seems to become very hostile whenever he sees any silver-colored seelies. they’re a rare variety, but the two times you’ve encountered them throughout your adventures, your little yellow-brown seelie had screeched so loud you think he gave you tinnitus.

whenever you stumble into buildings you haven’t seen before, he’ll dazedly float out from his pocket home and squeak happily. he’ll drag you on a little tour around the building and inside said building if you’re allowed to enter.

seelie!childe is a strange ocean-blue colored ball that seems to be able to produce water out of nowhere???

you playfully knitted him a silly little red scarf to differentiate him from the other blue-colored seelies and he’s taken a liking to it. he always gets pouty whenever you take the cloth off him so you can wash the grime off. how can you know that he’s pouting when seelies don’t have mouths? umm. let’s just say you have a special emotional connection.

super noisy, squeaks and bumps and nuzzles onto you 24/7. will not sleep if he’s not nestled onto your neck. likes to perch on your person, be it your head, your shoulder, or your pocket.

when he’s angry he turns into a purplish color and zaps anything he’s in contact with. sometimes he does this to you when you’re being neglectful of your safety. suffice to say that his shocking (pun intended) warnings have saved your life more than once.

doesn’t do too well in hot weather. he literally melts onto your shoulder and refuses to detach himself. thrives on cold weather; he seems to really love snow.

soft pastel purple color is the hue of seelie!cyno. his antennae is darker colored and shaped like jackal ears.

can summon tiny lighting strikes. you have no idea how that works. just know that your little companion will not hesitate to do it to people who make you uncomfortable.

protective. will float in front of you and survey the area first. you two probably have determined a set of signals to ‘communicate’ with each other. always waits for you to catch up when you fall behind. very rarely he hides in your pocket; even when you fight he’s there as moral support and would act as a distraction to your opponents.

has a very good sense of direction somehow. you’ll never get lost with him around. if you’re going the wrong way, he’ll smoosh your cheek to get your attention and point in the right direction.

seems to be very obsessed with this card game called tcg. whenever he sees someone selling cards on the side street stalls, he’ll bump you in a warning and lead you towards the said shop. seelies don’t have eyes but when he faces you with a rare card in hand you swear you can see him making puppy eyes at you. and he might be a seelie, but you figured with the winning streak you have with him controlling your plays, he might be well on his way to becoming the most legendary tcg player in the whole teyvat.

#astronetwrk #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #rin writes #zhongli #zhongli x reader #childe #tartaglia #ajax #childe x reader #al haitham #al haitham x reader #cyno #cyno x reader #kaveh #kaveh x reader

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gojoidyll · 6 months

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Imagine taking Katheryne's place for the day in Liyue, and when the traveler comes by for a new commission they are surprised to see you. You, on the other hand, aren't surprised to see them as you expected for them to come by. However, what you didn't expect was to see someone who doesn't belong.

He was clad in expensive looking attire, the contrast of blues and whites matching perfectly with his pale complexion and long silver hair. His eyes were mesmerizing too. They reminded you much of your dear friend Zhongli's eyes despite the major difference in color.

"Oh, y/n, we didn't expect to see you here today! Where's Katheryne?"

"Hello Paimon, Traveler, Katheryne is out for the day and a new commission popped up asking for anyone who was free to take her place. The mora is good, so I decided to take up the job since I don't have anything else to do."

"Oohhh, that makes sense," Paimon answered.

You smiled before directing your attention to their tall friend, "may I ask who this is?"

"This Neuvillette," Paimon introduced with an air of arrogance in her voice, "he's the chief justice of Fontaine! Pretty cool, huh?"

You bowed to Neuvillette, "it's nice to meet you sir."

"No, the pleasure is mine... your name is y/n, correct? The traveler and Paimon talk a lot about you. They were actually saying how they wanted me to meet you at some point."

Before you could say anything, you felt a tug on your sleeve, "miss y/n, your shift is over."

Nodding you turn back to the three before you, "well, as you can tell, since I'm done working for the day, why don't I tag along? That is, if it's alright."

Meeting Neuvillette was definitely interesting. He was both kind and courteous. A true gentleman. Not to mention that you quite like how he spoke to you. His voice was nice, smooth, and definitely easy on the ears. And just as he liked talking about Fontaine, he also liked listening to you.

Most of the time when you hung out with the traveler and Paimon, Paimon was usually the one who dominated the conversation (not that you minded, you weren't much of a talker to begin with), so being the center of attention in a conversation for once definitely made you nervous. Especially when such a handsome and refined man was giving such a attention.

And later you would fail to notice how Paimon and the traveler would give each other a high-five before leaving both you and Neuvillette to talk amongst yourselves. Neuvillette noticed, however, but decided to not say anything.

"You know Miss y/n," Neuvillette started but you gently cut him off, "y/n is fine."

"Y/n," he amended with a smile, "I've actually been quite the fan of yours for some time. And truthfully, it was I who asked the traveler to meet you."

As it turns out, you were actually a performer of sorts. Your voice was something that everyone could admire for hours on end. But at some point you decided to take a break. The life of an adventurer too good to pass up. (You did promise yourself to sing again someday, but for now, you were on a ... vacation of sorts.)

"You- you're a fan of mine?"

"Yes, I always enjoyed your performances when you would grace Fontaine with your voice. And when I heard you had went on break, I honestly thought I wouldn't be able to hear you again."

Your face felt hot all of sudden, it wasn't everyday that such a gorgeous man showered you in such praises. You felt him grab your hand as he stopped walking to look at you.

"Y/n, I-"

"Am i interrupting something?"

You looked to see who it was and immediately broke out into a bright smile, "Mr. Zhongli!"

You gently let go of Neuvillette's hand before walking up to your friend to give him a hug, "I haven't seen you in awhile! Where on Teyvat have you been?"

"Just traveling my dear, nothing to worry about."

As you pulled away to introduce Zhongli to Neuvillette, you didn't notice how the air got thicker and the area more tense than what it was.

Oh, and did I forget to mention that you didn't know that Zhongli is actually the geo Archon? Yeah...

Having two dragons fight over you is quite nice, though.

#genshin #genshin impact #zhongli #neuvillette #genshin zhongli #genshin neuvillette #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette x you

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snail-noodle · 6 months

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Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader

Before he got corrupted, he was once called Light Milk Cookie (I'll change it once they reveal his true past name in canon)

I may have went a bit far with these.... enjoy 🤗

◇◇◇◇◇◇

💙 Before his corruption, he was known as Light Milk Cookie. You first met him when he stopped to rest at your village. You were absolutely mesmerized at his appearance, barely catching onto his question. "I've traveled quite a distance. Is there perhaps an inn around here that I could rest at?"

You stuttered as you offered him a room to stay in your home, informing him that your village had no inn, just a few shops. Hearing your offer, he gave you the most beautiful smile you have ever seen from a cookie, thanking you for your generosity.

💙 Light Milk Cookie had meant to stay in your village just for a day or two. In the end, he ended up staying for 3 whole weeks! Word had gotten out to the other villagers that one of the Five Great Cookies had arrived to their humble little town. Some believed he had stayed to show and tell the villagers of his knowledge that he had received throughout the years. In truth, he had stayed for you.

💙 During his stay, he spent most of his time with you. You would both talk about your favorite hobbies, your dreams, and the places you wish to see. Light Milk Cookie would listen to you with great interest, mentally keeping notes of what you like, what you didn't like, things you yearned for, and so much more.

💙 Your village is founded in the middle of a forest with a river nearby. You were a bit more adventurous than those in your village, so you would show him the many hidden spots that had the best sceneries in the forest. There was eventually a moment where the two of you had confessed your feelings for each other. The gentle sound of running water of the nearby river and the soft chirps from the birds among the trees only made the moment even more intimate and romantic.

The two of you practically spent the whole day in that quiet little spot. Hidden away from prying eyes, the two of lay close to each other, your hand entangled with his as you listened to his many stories of his past adventures with his friends.

💙 Before he left to continue his journey, he left you an enchanted scroll. He laughed softly at your confused face, "This scroll will allow us to communicate, even when we're far apart from each other." Reaching inside his backpack, he took out another scroll and a quill pen. He took a moment to write something, and once he finished and closed the scroll, the soft chime of a bell rang from the scroll you had been holding.

Opening the scroll, you blushed as you read what he had written for you. "This is.. this is amazing!" You gazed at the scroll with wonder and excitement. Light Milk Cookie's heart fluttered at your praise. The enchanted scroll had been a new idea that he came up with recently. To hear this from you filled his heart with so much joy!

💙 With an embrace and a loving kiss, you bid him a farewell. You stood at your front door, your gaze never leaving his form as he grew smaller the further he walked away. Only when he was completely out of sight did you finally return back to your home. He had left you the magic scroll, but he had also left you with a few items of his own. You reached for the scarf that he had gifted you, you giggled as you wrapped it around your neck, the sweet smell of blueberries enveloping your senses.

💙 As time went on, the two of you would exchange letters to each other at every moment. The sound of a bell ringing in your house almost every minute. Weeks would go by as he would tell you about every cookie and creature he would encounter in his path. Some good, some bad, and some downright strange. As the holder of Knowledge itself, you knew he was stronger than any other cookie in this world. Still, you can't help but worry whenever he mentioned having to fight a beast or some vile bandits.

💙 Just as he wrote you about his encounters, he wrote you many poems dedicated to you and your hometown. Some had you giggling, and some had you completely red in the face. His words were like honey; He yearned to have you by his side, to join him in his own kingdom. He made promises to take you to see the vast world that is Earthbread.

💙 Eventually, he had reached his destination and promised to send you a letter later that night. You waited a whole day, but then that day turned to weeks, and those weeks turned to months. Your mind and soul ached with worry for your lover. You would send him a letter once a day, hoping for any response. Your heart is aching for his comforting words.

Nothing.

💙 One morning, as you were preparing breakfast to start your day, you froze as the sound of a bell chimed across the house. Rushing to your room with tears in your eyes, you quickly grabbed the scroll from your desk, your hands shaking as you read what he wrote you.

I'm coming, my dearest.

A shriek of terror was heard outside the moment you finished reading the words. Your heart pounded with fear as you ran outside to see the commotion. You gasped at the sight before you. What once was a beautiful morning sky has now turned to complete darkness. Eyes... many blue blinking eyes, big and small, littered the dark abyss. All of them seemed to be looking straight at you.

💙 Laughter. The sound of laughter rang out throughout the sky. "At last, at last! I've returned to you, my love!" You gasped as a cookie suddenly appeared right in front of you, causing you to stumble back and fall. Before you could even hit the ground, the strange cookie caught you just in time.

"Be careful, my precious pearl! Wouldn't want you to crumble so soon!" His eyes twinkled at you mischievously, giving you the most biggest grin you've ever seen from a cookie. You looked at the strange cookie, no, the strange jester, with confusion. His voice, the hair, and those brilliant blue eyes. They reminded you so much of him. Surely it couldn't be...?

"Light Milk Cookie?"

#BOY OH BOY #i love romance guys #i love evil little jesters #:]#shadow milk cookie #cookie run kingdom #cookie run #shadow milk cookie x reader #crk #crob #crk x reader #my writing

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mysticheathenn · 9 months

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What are you Destined for?

Hi there! Remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

The extended FREE reading includes:

What steps to take that will lead you to your destined life?

Messages, Signs, and Synchronicities from your Oracle Cards.

Pile l:

Where are you currently in life? (Tarot: Knight of Wands, Eight of Wands, Five of Swords, Eight of Pentacles, Two of Pentacles, and Eight of Cups)

Shuffling your cards, a sign that says dead end pops up in my head along with the song Energy by Keri Hilson. Currently, you may be at a job that doesn’t fulfill you or doesn't give you any kind of balance in your life that you desperately crave right now. Some of you may have issues with if not colleagues possibly the higher-ups at work because you don’t feel appreciated and like the song energy it’s draining you day in and day out and you don’t see the light at the tunnel some days. Some of you wish you could quit but you know people around you will see you as a fool because maybe this job gives you good benefits, discounts, it’s “stable”, or maybe it looks good to have on your resume but inside you’re dying. You know you can’t keep doing this job forever and know you need to leave soon but aren’t sure when to leave or even how because for just a few of you, you may not have a backup or even know what you want to do with your life. Maybe you’re a part of the group where your parents have told you X was a good career choice and you never thought about looking into anything else because you trust the opinions of others or trust in something that’s more predictable than having constant downs and ups.

What are you destined for? (Tarot: Knight of Wands, Eight of Wands, Five of Swords, Eight of Pentacles, Two of Pentacles, and Eight of Cups)

Travel, flexibility, and freedom are what you are destined for. I’m hearing influencers or even content creators for a lot of you. Just remember content creator doesn’t always mean social media you could possibly be an artist and use social media to help promote your brand. The song Belle from Beauty and the Beast is playing in my head. It’s the song where Belle is singing about longing for adventure and the great outdoors something more than this everyday life that has everyone satisfied and content with not wanting more. You want to be your own boss and not have to deal with the constant drama of having other people around you telling you what you can and cannot do. This may be specific for only just a few of you but maybe you have a manager who doesn’t like to let you take time off from work or even play favorites with who they allow and don’t allow to do things. For those who want to be influencers, I’m mostly seeing travel, and artists (writers, bloggers, painters, sculptors, etc) again you don’t have to be but I’m feeling this pile wants freedom or at least a job where they can wake up how celebrities do. If you want to do nothing all day, that’s what you do. If you want to go to Bali at the drop of the hat that’s what you do and so forth. You don’t want to be tied down to a desk job your whole life and I’m here to tell you you aren’t. You are destined for this life pile 1 but it’s up to you to walk away and come up with a plan that will help you on this journey.

(This extended reading is available for FREE!)

Pile ll:

Where are you currently in life? (Tarot: The Hermit (reverse), 6 of Cups, The Fool, Temperance, The Moon, and The Tower (reverse))

Healing. I kept hearing the word healing over and over again in my head. Some of you are on a spiritual, religious, or even personal development journey where you are currently in solitude trying to work on your shadow self and other areas in your life that either haven’t been going well for you or something happened to where you had to take a step back and see the red flags to a situation that you were color blind before. For some of you this could have been a relationship (platonic or romantic) that forced you to see someone for who they really are and caused you so much pain to the point you just want to be left alone right now to heal and replenish yourself because you feel you can’t depend on anyone else. You feel everyone is out there to hurt you right now but you know deep down you don’t truly feel that way you’re just hurting and need to do some inner journey work to figure out what and where you go from here. I’m here to tell you it’s nothing but up from here boo.

What are you destined for? (Tarot: The Hermit (reversed), 6 of Cups, The Fool, Temperance, The Moon, and The Tower (reversed))

Generational Curse Breakers. With the 6 of cups someone handing over a cup filled with nothing but goodness and loving energy while you have a cup that is sitting behind you empty on a broken rock states you want to do and show up better for the next generation whether in your family or for people around you. You are walking down a new path that no one in your family or in your friends group has walked down before because you have seen growing up what certain environments, behaviors, or even thought patterns can do to a person and you don’t want that for yourself. You want to be able to uplift people, see people thrive, and grow in a loving environment. You want people to see and feel nothing but peaceful and calming energy from you like maybe your dream is to be that safe space for those you love or for your future children if you decide that’s what you want. You are done with people handing out traumatic experiences and passing them off as trophies or something that should be normalized. Good for you babe! I’m proud of you.

(This extended reading is available for FREE!)

Pile lll:

Where are you currently in life? (Tarot: Five of Wands (reversed), Seven of Wands, Knight of Pentacles, Ace of Pentacles (reversed), Ace of Swords, Five of Cups (reversed)

Rolling in the deep by Adele is your song pile 3. Even though the lovers, 3 of sowrds, or even 2 of cups isn’t in your pile I am sensing some of you are going through it with a relationship. Maybe you thought you found your prince charming and you wanted to prove that you’re a ride or die to the point it left you empty, drained. The meme “I done ride and died, ride and died so much I died” is coming to mind. Some fo you thought this person was some sort of savior for very few of you this person may have provided you a certain lifestyle only to throw it in your face constantly making you feel like a burden. This doesn’t have to be romantic as again no romance cards are here. This could be family, a job, or even friends who you feel you have given your all to and you’re just tired and left on E. The saying no one is coming to save you is coming to mind. You have to save yourself.

What are you destined for? (Tarot: Death (reversed), 6 of Cups, Wheel of Fortune, Temperance, 6 of Wands, and 10 of swords (reversed), 10 of Cups, and The World (reversed))

Victory is what you are destined for pile 3. Finding your community that loves and appreciates you for you exactly. You are the only pile where your destined for cards are different from the where are you currently in life question. So this tells me that you are going to go through a transformation. People you were once attracted to or would attract in your life (again doesn’t have to be romantic as no romance cards) will leave you alone as your energy is going to be changing for the better. You will be thriving to a point in your life where in order for people to reach you they need a bean from Jack and the bean stock or an extremely tall ladder for those who don’t know that children's story. I’m not getting too much more information on this question as it’s quite straight forward and I rather not repeat myself. Just know your environment, yourself as a whole will be changing. There was a tweet that once said "I want the next person in my life to have to go through God in order to get to me."

(This extended reading is available for FREE!)

Thanks for checking out my reading. Be sure to check out Patreon for the rest of the FREE reading. I appreciate all of you, until the next reading.

Stay Safe and Be Blessed.

#spirituality #tarot reading #pick a card #pac reading #pick a pile #pac tarot #tarotcommunity #witchblr #tarot cards #tarotblr #divination #patreon #pick a picture #pick a photo

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whxtedreams · 27 days

Text

Familiar yet Foreign

A Din Djarin x f!reader oneshot

Summary: In the depths of Canto Bight, you find something you thought you lost; his trust.

Written for @burntheedges roll-a-trope challenge - my trope was fake dating/marriage.

Word Count: 3.7k

Tags: fake marriage, untrustworthy reader, mentions of past injury, one bed hehe, protective!din, unwanted male attention, fear of loss, handcuffs, thief!reader.

Main masterlist - series masterlist

Canto Bight, the infamous, glitzy gambling hub, was a paradox.

On one hand, it was no place for a thief like you. With security cameras, guards and wealthy patrons on high alert.

On the other hand, the place was ripe for a skilled crook like yourself. With the promise of hefty winnings on the casino floors and in private games, temptation was everywhere. The dimly lit alleys and extravagant parties provided perfect cover for those with the expertise and daring to take advantage of the high-stakes environment.

In a way, Canto Bight was both forbidden territory and an opportunity waiting to be seized.

The only problem was you had made a promise to the Mandalorian you were traveling with.

The Mandalorian, or rather, Mando, had stood in front of you where he had sat you on a crate on his ship earlier that day. His arms crossed over his chest. The glare you knew he gave you, hidden behind the helmet.

"Listen," he said, "you're going to sit here and you're going to stay out of my way. You're not going to cause any trouble, not going to bring any attention to yourself. You're going to stay right here. Got it?" His voice was cold and unwavering and his stance made it clear that the matter was non-negotiable.

You had waited ten minutes after he left before you left.

There was too much to see and steal after all.

The city was a sprawling, pulsating beast by night. The dimly lit alleyways and shadowy rooftops were your playground as you navigated discreetly through the city. You moved like a ghost, flitting from one venue to another. From the lavish cantinas to the high-rolling casinos. Your fingers were nimble and sure, plucking riches from the hands of the wealthy as easily as if they were picking ripe fruit.

You had missed this, the thrill and adrenaline of a thief's life.

Mando was like a jailer recently, keeping you caged on his ship. He had refused to let you leave for months. The reason was clear - your error. It wasn't just a simple slip-up; it had led to an injury that had stained both Mando’s and your hands with your own blood. It had caused the bounty hunter's protective instincts to kick in. He was determined to keep you under his watchful eye, his actions both a punishment and a precaution. The atmosphere on the ship had turned heavy with tension, the silence broken only by the hum of the engines and the occasional sigh or muttered curse from the stoic warrior.

He used to talk to you, used to seek out your company.

It had been months since a conversation lasted more than five seconds.

You felt so lonely.

The air of Canto Bight was like a drug, a potent mix of excitement, opulence, and thrill. It was just what you had been craving. The atmosphere was electric, the glitz and glamor everywhere you looked. The streets were filled with people eager to gamble, party, and seek out adventure. The promise of a good time and the chance to escape your mind was intoxicating and you found yourself drawn in like an Alderaan furry moth to a flame.

You were navigating the cramped, labyrinthine ventilation shafts as you tried to avoid detection of the guards. They had thrown you into the trash filled back alley as you tried to enter the high states casino. It was a risky move, but you had done it many times before.

You were skilled at getting into places you shouldn’t be in after all.

However, this time, your luck ran out the moment you crawled out of the vent and made a turn into a narrow corridor. Unknown to you, the hallway was not empty. You turned the corner and head butted into a solid, metallic surface. As you looked up, blinking in surprise, you realized with a pang of dread that you had head butted Beskar.

Mando.

Shit.

"I can explain," you said. The words tumbled from your mouth in a rush as Mando’s gloved hand grabbed hold of your wrist.

“We can talk about that later. I need you.” He said.

You trailed behind Mando, your footsteps echoed softly in the dimly lit corridors. The music from the cantina below was a distant, booming pulse. Its sound muffled by the thick walls but still strong enough to fill the air. The occasional glimpses of flashing lights spilled out through the doors you passed and it painted the floors in a deep purple hue, providing the only source of illumination in the otherwise dark and ominous hallway. You could feel the tension in the air and the Mandalorian's steps ahead of you seemed purposeful.

Mando came to a sudden halt in front of a guard that stood in front of large golden double doors. His hand that had been grasping your wrist just moments before moved to rest on your spine. You felt a slight pressure, a silent command to stay put. You looked up at Mando, confusion and curiosity in your eyes as you tried to puzzle out his actions.

“Mywife,” Mando said.

His what?

Before you could open your mouth to voice your confusion, Mando’s hand gave a sharp tug at your shirt and pulled you against his chest. The sudden movement caught you off guard and you stumbled into him, your back now pressed firmly against the cool Beskar. The question that had been forming on your lips died on your tongue as you felt the solid presence of the warrior behind you.

The guard looked you over, his expression skeptical as he took in your bewildered face. He raised an eyebrow and directed his attention back to Mando, his tone unimpressed. "You sure about that?" he said.

“It’s new,” Mando replied.

“Very new,” you said.

Your gaze shifted from the guard's face, which was locked in an intense, one-sided staring contest with the Beskar helmet behind you. To your left, a framed sign on the wall caught your eye. It was a gaudy, overblown declaration advertising a casino room beyond was open to married couples only.

Oh.

“My wife and I would like to play Sabacc. Now.”

The guard sighed.

“Fine, but one wrong move and I will throw you out. Mandalorian or not.” The guard grumbled as he opened the door for you to step through.

Mando steered you through the threshold of the doors and into the crowded, lively room beyond. Round tables were strategically placed throughout the space, each occupied by couples absorbed in either their game or live Fathier Racing holograms. Groups of people roamed the floor as they moved from table to table, eagerly watching the games and races unfold. Along the walls, secluded booths provided intimate spaces for groups of people, their conversations hidden behind the low, padded barriers. The air was thick with tension and excitement. The hum of chatter and the clink of credits filled your ears.

Credits to steal.

“I can feel your fingers twitching.” Mando said.

You stole a glance at Mando. His helmet faced away from you as he scanned the room. His gaze moved from table to table, taking in every detail just as you had but for an entirely different reason. His hand was still pressed firmly against your back, its weight a constant reminder of his presence. It was familiar yet foreign. You could feel the slight tension in his touch, the subtle way his fingers pressed through the fabric of your shirt. A silent signal for you to stay close.

You clenched your fists tightly, the action a meager attempt to control the tension that coursed through your body. Your fingers dug into your palms as Mando turned his helmet to look down at you. You could feel the weight of his gaze bearing down on you, even through the visor of his helmet. You took a deep, steadying breath, maintaining the neutral expression on your face despite the hammering of your heart against your ribcage.

"Are you going to behave?" The low hum of his voice behind the modulator sent a shiver down your spine as he spoke. You swallowed hard, struggling to find your voice as you nodded stiffly in response.

“Always.”

He scoffed; the sound muffled through the modulator in his helmet. His hand tightened in your shirt as he gripped the fabric firmly.

“I don’t need a repeat of last time.”

Despite the gruff and frustrated tone in his voice, there was a hint of gentleness in the way this hand smoothed the fabric of your shirt, his touch surprisingly careful. With his guidance, he led you to an empty booth at the back of the room. The dim lighting provided a secluded area away from the main gambling tables. You could sense the tension in his stance, the controlled strength and power coiled beneath his armor. As he motioned for you to sit, his presence loomed over you like a shadow.

As you settled yourself on the cold metal bench of the booth, Mando’s voice cut through the hum of the casino. "If I tell you to stay, will you?" His visor was trained on you, the purple dim lights above the booth casted shadows across his already intimidating visage.

You nodded.

He shifted his weight and rested his hands on his hips. He then cocked his head to the side, his gaze locked onto you. He exhaled, the sound a deep, mechanical huff, as if he were gathering his thoughts or summoning some inner strength.

With a swift, practiced movement, Mando unclipped a pair of cuffs and secured one around your wrist. You felt the cold metal pinch against your skin, the sound of the click as the cuff locked into place. Without a second thought, he attached the other cuff to the heavy table leg, effectively tethering you to the booth.

“You understand why I don’t trust you?”

You nodded again.

Because you do. You really do.

Once you were secured to the booth, Mando leaned in close. The cold, hard surface of his helmet mere inches from your face. In a low, firm voice, he informed you that he would return once he had acquired the information he needed or captured the bounty he was hunting. The weight of his words and the situation's gravity settled over you like a leaden blanket as he took a step back, his figure disappearing into the crowd of gamblers.

So, there you sat, bound to the booth. The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. You could have easily slipped free the cuffs and you knew Mando was aware of this fact as well. This waiting game was a test, a trial to see if you could be trusted again. If you had the discipline and restraint to stay put despite the temptation to flee.

You waited for him.

Around the two hour mark a burly Weequay pushed his way into the booth beside you. The weight of his body caused the metal bench to creak and groan under his weight. He settled into the space with a smirk, his eyes scanned you up and down with a leery gaze.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you said.

"You here all alone?” The Weequay leaned back, his arm slid over the back of the booth and came to rest behind you with a casual familiarity that immediately set your nerves on edge. He chuckled softly as his eyes lingered on your bound wrist. “And handcuffed?” His other hand reached for your bound wrist.

Just as you were about to snap a retort at the Weequay, a deep shadow fell over the booth. Your eyes instinctively lifted to find the source. In front of you stood the imposing figure of the Mandalorian, every inch of his body radiated tension and anger. His hands were clenched tightly by his sides, his stance wide and aggressive, as if he was barely holding himself back.

The Weequay's face twisted into a frown as he turned around, his gaze locked onto the imposing figure behind him. The cocky expression fell from his face and he visibly tensed, his body jolted in surprise at the sight of the armored warrior. He swallowed hard; his confidence vanished like smoke in the wind.

"If you want to leave with your hand attached," he stated, each word punctuated clearly, "I suggest you take your hand off my wife." Mando's voice was as cold and hard as the Beskar he wore, the threat in his words clear and unequivocal.

The Weequay's eyes widened in surprise at the term "my wife," and his head whipped over to look at you. He stuttered over his words, his eyes darted between you and the Mandalorian. He hastily slid out of the booth; his apologies spilled out of his mouth in a rush as he took in the sight of the furious Mandalorian towered over him. In a heartbeat, he turned on his heel and scurried away, disappearing into the crowd.

The moment he left; you could see the tension in Mando’s shoulders relax. In his hand was a drink, the condensation on the outside of the glass glinted in the casino lights. With a nod, he placed the drink on the table beside you. The liquid within beckoned to you, the cool, cold condensation a tantalizing promise of relief. You practically lunged for the drink, your parched throat relishing the cool liquid as you downed it all in one gulp.

“Your wife, huh?” You smiled as you put the empty cup on the table.

After watching you practically inhale the drink as if dying of thirst, Mando bent down as he ignored you. With a swift motion, he unlocked the cuff around your wrist and freed you from the booth. He then stood straight again; his gaze fixed on you.

“Got the information I needed. We can head back to the Crest.” He said as you rose from the booth.

Mando’s reaction was instant as you reached out and grabbed his wrist, his body jolted at the unexpected touch. He turned back to face you.

“What?”

You looked up at him, your hand still wrapped around his wrist and suggested, "What if we get a room? With an actual bed, maybe?"

He stared at you.

“I may have stolen enough credits, so I can pay for it myself?”

His visor betrayed no reaction, but his body seemed to tense beneath your hold. Then, he nodded.

Mando seemed to consider your suggestion for a moment before he spoke, his voice gruff beneath the modulator. "Fine," he said, the word coming out as a reluctant agreement. He then adjusted his grip, his fingers wrapping around your wrist instead. "But only because you didn't run off," he added as he pointed his finger at you, a note of subtle approval in his tone.

As he pivoted on his heel and began to lead you through the casino, you couldn't help but smile to yourself. There was a sense of triumph in the way he tugged you along, your hand encircled by his sturdy grip. The sound of the casino faded into the background as you followed him through the corridors and to the lobby.

The moment Mando reached the counter, he reached out and rang the bell. After a moment, the guard from earlier emerged from the back room, his expression a mix of tiredness and irritation. The guard let out a long sigh, leaning heavily on the counter as he recognized the armored figure before him.

"Two rooms," Mando said. With a flick of his hand, he tossed a small stack of credits you stole onto the counter and it clattered against the hard surface.

The guard darted from the credits to Mando’s helmet and raised his eyebrows. “Two rooms?” He asked.

Mando remained still as he stared at the guard.

"Now, why would a husband and wife need two rooms?" he sneered, a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. The guard crossed his arms across his chest, as if challenging the Mandalorian's response. The tension in the air thickened as he stared at the guard, his grip on your wrist tightened ever so slightly.

“One. Room.” Mando said and you felt the anger radiate off him.

The guard raised an eyebrow at Mando's tone, seemingly surprised by the man's demeanor, but he quickly snatched the credits from the counter and handed Mando one room key.

With a swift, almost violent motion, Mando snatched the key and remaining credits from the counter. The guard's fingers barely moved out of the way in time.

It wasn’t until the door shut behind you with a soft click and a sense of isolation enveloped you that you noticed Mando's shoulders relax again. His rigid stance loosened as if shedding the tension that had been weighing heavily upon him. The dim lighting of the room cast dramatic shadows across his armor, but for a moment, in the quiet of the room, he looked less like an intimidating warrior and more like a man struggling to hold onto his composure.

He walked past you, his movements purposeful and measured and made his way to the chair in the corner of the room. He spoke as he sat down, the sound of the chair creaked slightly under his weight as he folded his arms. "I'll take the chair," he stated, his voice flat and matter of fact. He leaned back in the chair, the metal of his armor clinked against the wood.

You sat down on the edge of the bed closest to him, the springs of the mattress dipping slightly beneath your weight. You looked over at Mando seated in the chair he had claimed as his own. "I'm sorry," you said.

His helmet flicked up to glance at you, but other than that he didn't move.

You sighed.

“I’m sorry you can’t trust me like I want you to.”

“I did trust you.”

You looked up at him and nodded slowly.

“I trusted you to trust me and you-” he stopped himself with a deep sigh and shook his head, “Do you know I still find your blood in the Crest?”

Your eyes closed involuntarily as shameful memories flooded your mind. Flashes of his shaking hands on your bloody body in the dimly lit corner of the Crest. The memories played out in quick, vivid snapshots, like photos being shuffled in a deck of cards. The sound of his angry, raised voice echoed in your head. Its volume and intensity were a stark contrast to his usual collected and calm demeanor. His hands tearing at your clothes to get to your injuries. His hands holding you down as you cried. Your cold body drenched in your own blood. His cries as he held you. You could almost feel the fear that oozed from him, a fear you had never seen in him before, and it terrified you more than your injury had.

“I can’t see you like that again,” he said.

You took a deep breath and opened your eyes again, the memories still lingered like ghosts in the back of your mind. Without uttering a word, you nodded in acknowledgment.

You turned away from him, your focus shifted to the bed that seemed too large and too empty for just you. The words "Sleep with me?" left your lips before you could second-guess yourself, your voice almost a whisper in the quiet room.

“What?”

“I miss you Mando. I won’t touch you, I just - miss you.”

Without a word, he stood from the chair.

Mando did not take his armor off like he used to. He did not slip under the covers, instead laid on top of the sheets. He did not hold you close to his chest like he had for countless months.

The distance was palpable; not just the space between your bodies, but also the distance between the connection you once shared.

Instead, you found yourself clutching the soft fabric of his cloak in your hands as you laid beside him. The scent of him that had once seemed soothing and comforting was muted by the metallic smell of his armor. Fatigue tugged at your eyelids, your mind teetering on the edge of sleep as you held onto his cloak. The bed seemed too large, too desolate without his embrace.

He was so close yet so far.

Familiar yet foreign.

As you were on the verge of that sweet surrender of sleep, his arm moved around your waist and pulled you gently closer to him. His touch was unexpected, his movements cautious yet deliberate. Your body slotted against his armored form, the cold touch of his armor against your skin a sharp contrast to the unexpected warmth that spread through you at the contact.

“Can I trust you? Will you trust me to keep you safe? Because I can’t see you like that again and I need to know if I can trust you to listen to me when it matters most,” he said. You could hear the strain in his usually calm and collected voice. The underlying hint of fear in his tone.

You nodded into his side, the strength of his grip on your waist a comfort. You had no intention of leaving his side again, the memories of his angry voice and shaky hands was still fresh in your mind. You wanted to stay close to him, for him to trust you in the way he once had.

He nodded as he sat up in the bed, his movements methodical and practiced. You silently watched as he began to remove his armor, each piece came off with a series of clicks and scrapes as he unclasped and untethered the Beskar from his body.

He left his armor stacked neatly on the chair; each piece placed with a level of care. Then, he returned to the bed, the mattress dipped slightly as he slid under the sheets. His body warm against yours.

You could have cried.

You did cry.

The warmth of his bare hand against your stomach as he pulled your back against his chest emanated more than just physical comfort. The solidity of his body against yours was a reminder that he was there with you. His touch was firm yet gentle, his fingers splayed over your stomach in a way that suggested he was afraid of letting go. You sank back into his embrace, the steady beat of his heart against your back a soothing lullaby you had not been able to sleep without.

You weren't alone anymore.

Notes

Did I stay on track of fake marriage? Maybe? – listen I tried. I sat down to try and write this three times and scrapped it three times before I finally stuck with this. But regardless, I had a lot of fun doing this! I haven’t necessarily written in the Star Wars universe before, only AU’s with Din so this was very intimidating. I did, however, like writing it. It was just scary because I didn’t want to describe something incorrectly or not write it correctly?

#din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #mando x you #mando x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian

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queenshelby · 22 days

Text

Daughter Dearest (Part One)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (47) x Step! Daughter (21)

Warning: Infidelity, Smut, Dysfunctional Family

Home. The word itself tasted like mothballs and childhood memories, both bitter and sweet on your tongue.

What others would call home, did not feel like home to you at all, not after your mother had destroyed everything that you were familiar with just when you had turned fifteen.

It was then that she had begun an affair with an actor named Cillian Murphy, whom she had met on the set of a movie he was filming and, just as if she had planned it all, she became pregnant with your stepsister Sadie.

Your mother was 37 at the time, with Cillian having been five years her senior.

It was all over the papers at the time and, just as you thought that things could not get any worse, she left your father, who was heartbroken and bewildered, and moved in with this then stranger to you.

You and your twin sister, Cliona, were expected to just follow suit, like little lost puppies and whilst Cillian himself seemed like a nice man, it was not something that you were able to do that easily. You had always been strong willed and gave your mother quite the run for her money with your rebellious nature which, in part, was the reason why she had pushed you to go away to live your father in New York.

New York was where you had finished school and, as soon as you turned eighteen, you made your way on a journey around the world.

You travelled to New Zealand, Africa and then South Amerika too. There were times when your money ran out but you always managed to get by, taking on odd jobs here and there, just so that you could survive.

It was during your time in Tanzania, when you met a woman, in her forties, who worked in an orphanage with you, and it was her who introduced you to photography. She told you that the camera was woman's truth and that with it, you had the power to tell stories.

She handed you her canvas camera and you began to snap away, discovering facets of Tanzania, its people and its wildlife in ways that words alone could not articulate.

The experience had left an indelible impression on you and from that day onwards, you knew that photography would be the lens through which you viewed the world and translated your experiences.

Your wanderlust had taken you on a three year journey, one that had seen you capture the beauty of the world through photographs. You had even managed to sell some of them to a hip magazine, which showcased your work alongside a spread of your adventures.

The pay was decent, just enough to keep you going and still let you see the world.

College had been an option, but not one you wanted to seriously consider. You had never been one to follow the rules and conventions that came with higher education, and the thought of being stuck in a classroom for four more years seemed unbearably tedious.

But then, after an amazing three years, your travel journey came to an abrupt end when you got into trouble with the law while passing through the UK, on your way back to New York.

At London Heathrow, just after taking a flight from Rome, you were stopped by customs for questioning regarding a package that they found in your luggage. It was a small box that just fit snugly within the zippered pocket in your backpack.

Inside the box there were as an illicit substance and it was this substance that got you arrested.

You were questioned for hours, leaving you dazed, frightened and confused about how the drugs had even gotten into your bag and, after a series of panicked phone calls to your family, your mother agreed to bail you out.

Days later, in court, you were given a short sentence, including a travel ban for three months and house arrest for one.

"I much rather go to jail than live with my mother for four weeks," you thought to yourself, but the sentence had been handed out and, before you knew it, you were taken to where you had once lived, in the outskirts of London.

Time seemed to slow down the moment you crossed the threshold of that Victorian house, so familiar in every fine detail that it seemed to shrink around you.

The police officer who accompanied you rang the doorbell on your behalf and, after a few moments, your sister Cliona , whom you hadn't even spoken to in a year, opened the heavy oak door.

Her dark eyes, much like yours, narrowed at the sight of you, before dissolving into a cold, expressionless mask.

"Hi, Cliona," you greeted her, but it was clear that she wasn't interested in talking.

Her thin lips barely moved as she spoke. "Mum isn't home, but come on in," she simply said to the officer rather than you.

Cliona's dismissive attitude was nothing new to you, but it still hurt.

You had once been close, like two peas in a pod, but she had changed somewhere along the way. Growing up, you had always been the rebel, the one who pushed boundaries and questioned authority, while she was the obedient one, always trying to please your mother.

Over the years, that gap had only widened, until it seemed like you were living on opposite ends of a vast, unbridgeable chasm.

With a resigned sigh, you stepped into the hallway which is when you saw him, for the first time in 18 months. It was Cillian, emerging from one of the rooms at the far end of the hallway, with your little half sister Sadie clinging to his side, her tiny fingers wrapped around one of his fingers.

As soon as Sadie saw you, she ran towards you , squealing with excitement, and you couldn't help but smile at the sincerity in her voice as she called out your name.

"Y/N! Y/N!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around your waist. Her laughter echoed through the expansive hallway as you stooped down to pick her up, your heart feeling warmer and softer than it had in months.

You had always kept in touch with her, and even visited her on numerous occasions, putting up with your mother for short periods of times for Sadie's sake, mostly while Cillian had been away filming.

He was a busy man and your interactions with him to date were limited. Cillian took a step towards you, his warm smile radiating kindness.

"Welcome home, I suppose," he said with a slight chuckle, his rich voice resonating through the room. You couldn't help but blush as he looked directly into your eyes, the corners of his eyes crinkling in genuine delight at seeing you. It was a small but friendly gesture that made you feel a little better about this somewhat unfortunate situation.

"Thanks," you mumbled, not quite sure what to say in response. You had imagined seeing him again, but there was something utterly different about him now, something that you had not noticed when you saw him last, about eighteen months ago, at your aunt's wedding.

He had grown a little older, his hair was peppered with more silver strands, giving him an air of maturity, though his eyes seemed the same vibrant shade of blue that they had been before, sparkling with intelligence and a hint of mischief.

While you were spending some time with your little stepsister, the police officer pulled out some paperwork and what looked like an ankle monitor , informing you that this would now be a part of your daily life since it was ordered by the court for the next one month.

You couldn't help but wince at the sight of the device. It felt like an electronic handcuff latched on, but you didn't complain, knowing that it could have been much worse.

"So, I guess it's a house arrest for you now," Cliona said with a roll of her eyes, "good luck with that."

"It's only for thirty days," the officer interjected, clearly trying to soften the blow of the situation, "and if you follow the rules and stay out of trouble, you'll be free to go where you want after that, at least within the UK."

You couldn't help but feel a wry smile creeping up on your face, thinking about all the things you would be able to do once this house arrest was lifted.

But for now, you had to follow the rules and make the best of a less than ideal situation.

"Mr Murphy, are you happy to sign for this?" the officer asked Cillian, handing him the paperwork related to your bail conditions. Cillian looked down at the documents, his brow furrowing slightly as he read over the terms.

"Sure," he then said, signing his name with a flourish before looking at the monitor with disdain while the officer turned it on, causing it to light up around your ankle.

"What a strange contraption," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he handed it back to the officer who was quick to leave shortly after that.

"I should probably find my room and get unpacked before mum gets home. I know how much she hates mess," you said as soon as the officer drove off and Cillian nodded in agreement.

"Of course, you can use your old room, it hasn't changed much," he said before picking up your large backpack and guiding you upstairs.

"You know I could have carried this, right?" you remarked to Cillian as you watched him struggle with your backpack, his face turning slightly red with the strain.

He chuckled good-naturedly. "I know, but it's no trouble, really," he said as he adjusted the weight of the bag on his shoulder.

You nodded silently, following him as he took you to your old room, which was still located at the far end of the hallway, as it had been before.

He opened the door for you, stepping aside so you could enter first.

As you stepped over the threshold, your senses were immediately bombarded by a whirlwind of emotions – nostalgia, bitterness, and a strange undercurrent of longing.

You had spent countless nights in that room, sitting by the window, watching the stars through the cold glass, dreaming of the day when you could escape the confines of that house after finding out that your mother wanted a divorce. But then again. you were older now and none of this mattered anymore. Now, it was somewhere to sleep for the next thirty days, and, after that, you knew that you would be evaluating your options. You left your camera bag by the door but the moment you turned around you caught Cillian's gaze, and you could have sworn that there was something tender hidden deep within the blue recesses of his eyes, like a secret too precious to be shared with the world.

"I'm glad to see that it's still the same," you muttered to yourself, as you placed your other smaller bag onto the bed.

Cillian chuckled lightly, reminding you that he was still standing there, a few feet behind you.

"I'll let you get settled in now," he said with a warm smile. "Dinner is at seven, if you want to join us. Your mother should be home by six," Cillian added, before walking out of the room, leaving you to your own devices.

"Thank you Cillian," you called after him, letting the moment linger for a second, as a chance to catch your breathe and let your thoughts reel.

The air in the room felt heavy, the scent of old books and dust hung thick against it, like an unwelcome fog. The room was exactly how you remembered it, every piece of furniture, every painting on the walls. It was like going back in time.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, as you pulled back the window curtains, revealing the oak tree that stood tall and strong outside. The view had not changed one bit and this realization was as oddly comforting as it was heartbreaking.

You ran your hand over the windowsill, recalling how you used to sit there for hours on end just watching the world go by in this quaint little town on the outskirts of London. It triggered memories of when you had first noticed your mother changing, and her new job on the set of Peaky Blinders getting the better of her.

She was one of the production managers, young and enthusiastic, and of course, this is where she met Cillian.

It all went downhill from there, and as they got more and more involved, her behavior changed.

But you never thought to blame him for the failure of your parents' marriage. Their marriage was doomed for years before and yet, the way she put an end to it, by starting an affair with another man, was what really irked you.

Pushing aside these thoughts of the past, you forced yourself to focus on the present and this presence included staying here, with your part of your broken family, for the next thirty days and you knew that this was going to be tough.

And tough it was when, over dinner later that day, your mother criticized your life choices.

"You know that none of this would have happened if you had decided to live a normal life," she charged at you between bites of roast chicken and boiled potatoes. "Finishing college, finding a real job, staying out of trouble...," she continued on, and her voice was sharp and condescending.

How many times had you heard her repeat the same things, trying to mold you in her image, trying to give you the role that she had always wanted for herself? You swallowed hard, keeping your composure even as the anger boiled inside you.

"Photography is not a career. It's an art and art doesn't pay the bills," your mother added with disdain.

"Well, art sure pays your bills, because you did not work for years and still have a roof over your head because your husband clearly earns enough money acting," you replied calmly, taking a sip of your water. You glanced at Cillian, who was sitting quietly, seemingly lost in thought. Sadie, however, was busy coloring with crayons, oblivious to the tension around her.

"That's different," your mother retorted, frowning at you. "Cillian is smart about his work while you, on the other hand, are reckless," she continued on, causing Cillian to sigh heavily.

"Marion, enough," he simply said, shaking his head probably taking pity in you and your current situation. "Can't we just enjoy our meal together as a family?" he then asked, and your mother huffed but said nothing more.

The rest of the meal passed in silence, with only Sadie occasionally breaking the awkward atmosphere with her chatter.

After dinner, you offered to help Cillian with the dishes, stacking the rinsed off plates

by the sink while he loaded them into the dishwasher. As he worked, you couldn't help but notice the way his sleeves were rolled up his arms and his hands moved with ease, his fingers deftly maneuvering the utensils as he placed them in their designated spots in the dishwasher. He had incredible hands, almost perfect, and whilst this was a small thing, it was also oddly intimate, and you felt the heat creeping up to your cheeks as you watched him.

You shook your head slightly, mentally chastising yourself for reacting in such a way.

Cillian was your stepfather, nothing more, and yet there was no denying the way your heart skipped a beat when his hand brushed against yours as you both reached for the same dish.

He smiled at you as he caught you looking, and your face flushed with heat.

"Thanks for helping me with these," Cillian then said as he closed the dishwasher with a soft click. He wiped his hands on a nearby towel and turned to face you, his eyes finding yours. "And, you know, I'm sorry about the whole house arrest thing. If there's anything I can do to make it easier for you, just let me know."

His words caught you off guard. It had been a long time since anyone had extended their help to you without expecting something in return. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. "Thank you," you finally managed to say. "But it's fine," you nodded. "Thank you for letting me stay here," you added astutely, trying to put a positive spin on the situation.

Cillian gave a slight smile, "Of course," he then said before

turning to walk back towards the living room. "I better go keep your mother company," he said, pausing for a moment before adding, "And, I meant what I just said about the house arrest, if there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask me."

Left alone in the kitchen, you couldn't help but replay that moment over and over again in your mind. You tried to shake it off as just a kind gesture and not something more, but something about the way he looked at you left you questioning yourself, leaving a strange flutter in your chest.

Shaking of these thoughts, you went to your room in order to find something to read or maybe even draw. But of course, your mother had got rid of most of your art supplies when you moved out, claiming that it was all just a waste of money.

Thus, after you got changed into a singlet and some PJ shorts, you made your way back downstairs, recalling a few large shelves stacked with books in the study, which was locate right next to the living room.

Cillian was still sitting with your mother on a comfortable couch but, much to your surprise, there was a large gap between them. He was reading a book while she watched some reality TV show with her uncritical gaze.

When you entered the room, Cillian looked up from his book and his eyes were immediately drawn to you, taking in your form, even though there was nothing particularly sexy about what you were wearing.

He felt the heat grow in his chest, dimming his thoughts and distracting him from the lines of text that he had been attempting to read which, to him, was a strange sensation and not one he had expected.

Thinking that you had gone unnoticed, you walked into the study and towards one of the large bookshelves before flicking through the spines of the countless novels stacked up haphazardly along the rows.

But then, suddenly, you heard a familiar voice from behind you.

"Can't find anything interesting?" Cillian asked, making you jump and drop the book you had been holding in your hands and, almost simultaneously, you dropped to your knees to pick it up, your heads bumping into each other.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" you exclaimed, your hands flying up to your forehead instinctively as you tried to steady the pounding that had started there.

"No, it's my fault," Cillian apologized, his voice close behind you and he put his hand on your shoulder, causing tingles to run down your spine. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you said as you turned and looked up at him, your eyes meeting briefly.

"I was trying to find a novel and, god, there are so many to choose from in here," you added, gesturing towards the towering bookshelf that seemed to stretch up towards the high ceiling.

Cillian chuckled, "Well, I do read a lot, but don't worry, I can give you a few recommendations if you want them," he said, a playful twinkle in his eye.

"I would love some recommendations, actually," you said, your face lighting up. "Something about, I don't know, human nature I suppose. I love reading stories about conflicted individuals or history," you said, with a light shrug of your shoulders.

Cillian smiled at your answer, "Did you read the Grass Arena?" he asked, his voice full of curiosity.

You nodded, "Yes, I did. The story was dark but tantalizing," you mentioned, leaving Cillian a little surprised. "I think it's really good book," you smiled, causing Cillian to furrow his eyebrows.

"A really good book huh?" he echoed, a gentle laugh escaping his lips. "It's one of the best, I think. John Healy's work should be regarded as an invaluable contribution to literature," he declared, and you couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm, momentarily getting lost in his bright blue eyes.

"Okay, I agree. It's probably in my top ten," you whispered, before shaking yourself out of your trance-like state, adding, "So, any other recommendations then?"

Cillian nodded, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he guided you towards a different bookshelf.

"I think you might like this one," he said as he pulled out a tattered copy of 'On the Road' by Jack Kerouac, the pages yellowed with age. "I know it's a classic, but it's always a good read and you love travelling, so if you haven't read it yet, you should," he added, his voice full of warmth.

You took the book from him gratefully while inadvertently brushing against his hand. Your palms grew warm and tingly, causing you to look up at him with wide eyes. Cillian's eyes locked with yours and there was a charge between you, a current thrumming beneath the surface that tickled your skin.

"Uhm, thank you ," you mumbled, sliding the book from his grip and stepping back. He nodded, seeming to understand the sudden need for space.

"Sure thing," he said, before turning to head back to the living room. "Goodnight, Y/N," he told you and you nodded, taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart before tucking the book under your arm and heading to your bedroom.

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 3 months

Text

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 2: I’m The Son Of Rage And Love]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Jesus Of Suburbia” by Green Day.

Word count: 6.2k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

On the shores of the Susquehanna River, just north of Harrisburg, you find a Wawa with no gas: bags on all the pumps, cars with their fuel caps unscrewed and dangling. This is a common courtesy adopted en masse, like rationing during the World Wars or flying American flags after 9/11. It signals that a car has already been siphoned, no gasoline to be found here, no transparent flammable gold made of eons-past decomposition. You wonder if in a few million years, some unfathomable new apex species will be drilling your liquefied remains from the lightless layers of the earth to power their spaceships.

“Then we got sent to Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling,” Rio continues, gnawing on a piece of beef jerky, Jack Link’s in a red bag, teriyaki. Mercifully, whoever took the gas left some of the food. You are sitting in the parking lot, a quaint zombie apocalypse picnic, trail mix and Rice Krispies Treats, Herr’s potato chips and Tastykakes, warm soda sipped from plastic bottles. Luke and Rhaena are on the roof of the Tahoe. Jace is tearing the convenience store apart; he is convinced the employees must have kept a gun somewhere in case of robberies. You know he’s fine. You can hear him banging around and swearing in there.

“Then we built some schools and a hospital in Djibouti,” you say.

Aegon is baffled yet intrigued. “Djibouti…?”

“It’s on the Horn of Africa, near Ethiopia and Somalia.”

Luke snorts. “It’s nice of you to assume he knows where Africa is.”

“Huh.” Aegon tosses a green M&M into his mouth. “Djibouti is horny.”

Rio says: “And after that we spent like six months in Key West, and then we got shipped to Corpus Christi, where Chips very narrowly avoided getting impregnated by, marrying, and inevitably acrimoniously divorcing a Marine.”

Everyone laughs except Aemond, who gives you a teasing smirk. “Did you really?”

“Uh, no. He asked me out, I ghosted him, that’s as far as it went.”

“Why’d you ghost him?” Baela says, crunching on Utz Cheese Balls.

Aegon turns to Rio. “You want a Honey Bun?”

“You’re my Honey Bun,” Rio replies. Aegon smiles, his sunburn flushing darker.

You shrug, eat a handful of candied almonds, tell a half-truth. “I just didn’t like him enough.”

Rhaena yelps and points: a snake, black and maybe five feet long, is slithering across the parking lot. It passes beneath the shade of the Tahoe and then continues towards the bushes. A moderate amount of panic erupts.

Helaena glances up from her notebook. “Rat snake. Not venomous.”

Rhaena shudders. “Well, I still don’t like it.”

“Where were you stationed next?” Daeron asks Rio.

“Chinhae, South Korea. Wicked cool place. The people love Americans, the food is incredible. We were there to rebuild a pier that got wrecked in a typhoon. They have these cute dolphin-looking things, they’d swim right up to the edge of the water with fish in their mouths to try to give to us. Like cats bringing home mice for their owners.”

“Finless porpoises,” you say.

“Yeah, those. And after Korea, it was Diego Garcia.”

“Diego…what?” Rhaena says.

Aegon turns to Luke. “Try to act like I’m stupid for not knowing where that is.”

“Diego Garcia is a tiny little island in the middle of the Indian Ocean,” you say, a bit wistfully. “It’s technically owned by the British, but we share a base there, we use it for airfields and to refuel submarines, things like that. We were renovating the housing facilities for Camp Thunder Cove. At night we’d go to the beach, have a few beers, look out into the ocean and it was just…nothing. Wide open dark nothingness for as far as you could imagine.”

“That’s what we need now,” Helaena murmurs as she makes elegant cursive annotations in her notebook, the cover picturing different species of spiders, a pinktoe tarantula, a green lynx spider, a black widow. “Someplace to go where no one will find us.”

“So you’ve known each other since basic training.” Aemond’s remaining blue eye shifts between you and Rio, like he’s still trying to puzzle it out. There’s really no mystery. You’re friends, and you’ve always been friends, and you’ve never been more than friends, despite many of your fellow seamen’s jokes to the contrary.

You tear open a Slim Jim. Aemond rebandaged your hands this morning, though they barely hurt anymore; he touches you with a clinical, focused restraint. “Not quite that long. Rio enlisted a few months before I did, so we weren’t at Great Lakes together, and then carpenters do technical school in Gulfport, Mississippi near Biloxi, and electricians train at Sheppard Air Force Base in Texas. We met after we were both assigned to Naval Mobile Construction Battalion 1.”

“The First and The Finest,” Rio quotes the motto, grinning. “The original Seabees, founded during World War II. People called our battalion the Pioneers, which…is kind of ironic now.”

Aegon says, munching noisily on trail mix: “It’ll be so appropriate when you end up dying of a broken leg or the flu or in some other totally preventable way.”

“It’s so crazy, people died of anything back then,” Luke marvels gravely. “Tuberculosis, pneumonia, infections, starving, freezing, poisoning, getting kicked by a horse, giving birth…”

Rhaena shoots him a fearsome look and Luke shuts up, but of course he can’t take it back. There is a long uncomfortable silence punctuated only by birdsong and Jace’s muffled outbursts from inside the Wawa. Everyone looks at Baela, concerned, pitying, entirely unable to do anything to improve her situation. She is still eating Cheese Balls with one orange-stained hand, but the other rests on her belly.

“Clearly, the timing is less than ideal,” Baela says after a while, and if she’s terrified she doesn’t sound like it. “It wasn’t planned to begin with, but I was determined to make the best of things. I figured that I could still finish up my master’s degree with a baby, and Rhaena and our parents could help, and Jace would be done with law school soon, and it might be stressful for a while but we’d all get through it. And now…” She shrugs wryly. “Now all those plans are gone. Just gone.”

“You’re going to be okay,” Aemond says; a fierce low determination, a promise, a vow.

Baela smiles at Rio. “How old is your baby?”

He is caught off-guard, clears his throat, averts his gaze. Aegon looks over at him, alarmed. “Oh, she, uh…she’s little. Really little. She…” And Rio, so rarely at a loss for words, can’t continue. He eats his beef jerky instead.

You explain for him. “Sophie’s due date was right around the time the phones and internet went down. The last we heard, she was headed to Odessa to stay with Rio’s parents.” Aemond and his companions nod and don’t say what they’re thinking, but it’s swimming in their eyes: Sophie could have died, the baby could have died, they both could have died, you and Rio might be risking your lives to cross the continental United States for nothing. “Rio’s parents live in this…well, I joke around and call it a doomsday prepper cult, but that’s not really what it is, it’s just a farming community out in the middle of nowhere. People who have their own chickens and gardens, churn their own butter, don’t wear deodorant, make medicine out of tree bark…and a lot of them have kind of a survivalist mentality, they stock pantries and collect guns. So we figure we can reunite Rio with his family and then carve out lives for ourselves in relative peace.”

Rio reaches over to bump his fist against your shoulder. He is grateful. You punch him back, fairly forcefully; it’s like hitting a brick wall. Rio is as tall as Aemond but probably outweighs him by a hundred pounds.

You ask Aemond: “What’s in the Bay Area?”

“Our parents have a beach house. It’s up on a cliff by itself, pretty isolated, and surrounded by state parks. That’s where they were when everything shut down. I assume they’re still there.”

“Beach house?” Rio raises his eyebrows. “On a cliff?”

Rich kids. REALLY rich kids. “Your parents couldn’t just fly you to California in a private jet or something?” you say.

“Our pilots stole the jets,” Aemond replies, not realizing you were joking.

“Oh.”

“Jace and Luke’s parents were home in London, so getting there isn’t really an option, and then Baela and Rhaena…”

“Mum and Dad were on a business trip to Moscow,” Baela says. “I’d like to think they weren’t eaten, but…they were probably eaten.”

“I am so sorry,” you manage awkwardly.

A single zombie goes shuffling past the Wawa on the main street, a woman in a floral church dress, hair falling out of its curls, one pink high heel that clicks on the pavement, blood all over her mouth and chin. She notices the nine of you and begins to hiss, lurching closer. Daeron shoots her down and then trots over to retrieve his arrows, yanking them out of her cheek and eye socket. Rhaena winces. Aemond, distracted, bites into a Nature Valley granola bar. Aegon opens a can of Pringles, pizza-flavored.

Luke is peering through his binoculars, looking south towards Harrisburg. Faintly, you can see sunlight glinting off the gilded statue of a woman—the Spirit of the Commonwealth—that tops the green clay tile dome of the state capitol building. “What is that?”

“The sculpture?” you say.

“No. Farther away. Those big concrete towers, right on the water.”

Now you know exactly what he means…and you’d forgotten all about it. It’s an oversight you hope doesn’t cost too much. “That’s Three Mile Island. And we should leave so we can put more space between it and us.”

“Oh, fuck me…” Rio mutters.

Now everyone else is squinting to see the facility, barely visible from the Wawa. “Why?” Aemond asks you.

“Because it’s a nuclear power plant. And since the electricity is out everywhere, as soon as its backup generators fail, it will melt down and the whole area around it will become radioactive.”

Aegon puts two Pringles into his mouth so they look like a duck bill. “How do you know?”

“Did no one else go through a Chernobyl obsession phase in high school?”

“The professor mentioned it in one of my chemistry classes,” Aemond says, but he sounds doubtful; this must have been years ago, when he was consumed by med school prerequisites and had no space left in his brain for mere curiosity.

“Okay, listen up.” Rio knows the key points; he’s had to study different sources of electrical power. He demonstrates with dramatic hand gestures. “You have super radioactive reactor fuel, usually uranium or plutonium. You have a pool of water around it that circulates continuously. The heat of the fuel evaporates the water, which makes steam, which spins turbines, thus creating power. But if the external electricity fails, the water stops circulating, and the heat vaporizes all of it, and when there’s no more water the reactor fuel overheats and melts through the floor and poisons the earth, air, and groundwater. Any questions?”

There is a chorus of distressed chattering as people swiftly rise to their feet, clutching armfuls of snacks for the road. Jace comes trudging out of the Wawa, conspicuously not in possession of a firearm.

“No luck?” Daeron asks.

“Obviously not.” Then Jace snaps at Aemond: “Why were you stomping around all pissed off in the medicine aisle earlier? What were you looking for?”

“Nothing,” Aemond says quickly.

“Seriously, dude, what was it?”

“Nothing!”

“Damn, Plankton, calm down.” Jace shields his face from the sun, following Luke’s nervous eyeline towards the concrete cooling towers to the south. “What’s that?”

“Three Mile Island,” you say. “And we’re leaving now.”

Aegon yawns loudly. “I’m so full! Rio, can you carry me to the car?” And before anyone can tell Aegon to shut up, Rio has crouched down to let him scramble onto his back. Aegon cackles and waves his can of Pringles around as Rio sprints to the Tahoe. Now there are a few more zombies stumbling up the street, but you don’t waste arrows or bullets on them. Baela runs them down as she swerves out of the parking lot and drives northwest, heading towards Clarks Ferry Bridge where you will cross the Susquehanna River in a less populated area and commence the long slog to the Ohio border. She turns up the volume on the CD player: London Bridge by Fergie. Immediately, Rio, Aegon, Daeron, Rhaena, and Luke are singing along.

Baela checks the fuel gauge and looks at Aemond in the rearview mirror. “We have half a tank left.”

“We’ll find gas somewhere.”

“Aemond, it’ll be alright. Don’t worry about me.”

“You’re not going to be able to walk to California.”

Baela can’t think of a response. He’s right. Outside, the miles roll by in a blur of radiant, reptilian, early-summer green.

~~~~~~~~~~

Each time the interstate is blocked by a snarl of crashed vehicles or a backup too thick to navigate through—both common occurrences—Aegon digs the folded map out of his shorts and charts a new course for Baela to follow. This particular divergence might prove fortunate. The Tahoe has rolled into Distant, Pennsylvania, an Appalachian speck of a town, churches, coal mines, dilapidated old sheds. On the outskirts, perched on a hill and surrounded by oak trees, you find a small single-story brick house with a myriad of banners on the flagpole: an American flag, a Confederate flag, a black POW/MIA flag, Don’t Tread On Me, Trump 2024.

“Yeah,” Aegon says, scratching his scruffy chin as he peers up through the windshield. “I feel like they probably owned guns.”

“How do we know they’re not still home?” Baela asks warily.

“No car in the driveway,” Aemond observes. “No windows boarded up. They probably ran into trouble while they were out somewhere and never made it back.” Then he waits, the question upspoken. Are we going to risk it?

“We’re down,” Rio says after exchanging a glance with you.

Aemond turns to Jace. Jace—curly dark hair down to his shoulders, eyes on the house, chewing his full bottom lip apprehensively—doesn’t reply at first.

“You said you wanted a gun, Jace. All the Walmarts are cleaned out. This is what shopping looks like now.”

“Fine. Okay. Let’s go.”

Baela parks the Tahoe in the gravel driveway and tells Rhaena and Luke to stay inside with Helaena until the property has been cleared. The rest of you climb out, afternoon sun and mountain wind, dandelions crushed under your shoes. There’s a barn behind the house, you see now, gaps between the wooden boards and flaking red paint.

Luke is standing up through the open sunroof, inspecting the scene with his binoculars. “No movement.”

“We’ll take the house, if you want,” Rio tells Aemond. You’re clutching your borrowed baseball bat with bandaged hands, though it still feels unnatural; your M9 is in its holster in case of emergencies. Jace, Baela, and Daeron start plodding across the yard towards the barn. The grass is tall and mostly shaded, the oak trees decades old, massive, weaving a patchwork canopy of leaves.

Aegon trots over and slaps Aemond on his left shoulder, his blind side. Aemond says without looking at him: “I’ll go with them. You wait out here.”

Aegon drives an imaginary ball with his golf club. “I’m very sensitive to rejection, you know.”

“You’ll survive.” Then Aemond follows you and Rio to the house.

Rio tries the knob, locked. He doesn’t waste a bullet by trying to shoot the lock off the door, something that is far less reliable than movies would have you believe. He kicks it open instead, three tries and then the screws that secure the latch give way and the door swings ajar. You wait, counting seconds in your head, listening for growls or footsteps. There are no sounds except the breeze sighing through the trees, the warbles and wing flaps of birds. You steal a glimpse of the barn. Jace, Baela, and Daeron have unhooked the rusted iron latch and are venturing inside, Daeron last and glancing around watchfully, his compound bow already drawn. Rio steps into the house.

It’s hot, stifling, all the windows shut. But this has its advantages. You inhale deeply: no trace of decomposition, no black swampy nauseating rot, just dust and lemon Pledge and old-people staleness.

“Smells fine,” Rio says. And then, loudly: “Anyone home? We’re just looking for supplies. We don’t want to hurt you. If anybody is here, just let us know and we’d be happy to leave. And, uh, sorry about the door.”

You stay close to Rio as he sweeps through the living room—floral couch, television turned off, crosses on the walls—and then the kitchen, where bananas are turning black on the counter. Aemond is to your right; he’s placed you on his blind side. He trusts me, you think. When did that happen? You haven’t heard anything from Aegon or the barn. That must be going well.

In the bedroom, Aemond pulls the curtains open to let some light in. You search the drawers, the closet, under the bed. No weapons. The bathroom has 1950s-style pink porcelain, the dining room table is set for a meal that never happened. There is a deer head mounted on the wall, ten points, not bad.

“I can’t believe these fuckers didn’t have guns,” Rio says. “But where the hell are they?!”

You have always watched more than you’ve spoken. That’s why you’re good at shooting things, and why you’re still alive. Rio talks and you listen; Rio acts and you reflect. “Wait.” You turn to Aemond. “Did you see a cellar outside?”

“A what?” He is perplexed. “Like…a wine cellar…?”

“No. A regular cellar.” You walk back into the midday heat and circle the house, Aemond and Rio hurrying to keep up. Over by the barn, everyone else is stretched out across the grass, joking, relaxing, Baela with her hammer on the ground and her hands laced over her belly, Helaena cradling a praying mantis in her palms and showing it to Rhaena. Aegon is teaching Luke how to smoke with a pack of Marlboro Golds he found at the Wawa. Luke, game yet somewhat anxious, takes a puff and then immediately coughs until he starts retching.

“I want to try too,” Daeron says.

Aegon shakes his head, taking a nonchalant drag off his own cigarette. “Nope. Not for you. Illegal. You’re under eighteen.”

“I want to try!”

“Shut up, you can’t even vote.”

“Nobody can vote, the government has collapsed!”

You find it at the back of the house: a pair of large metal doors leading down into the underground cellar. The weeds have begun to encroach on them, wild violets and black nightshade.

“Awesome!” Rio says, lifting the doors open one at a time, the hinges shrieking. They’re heavy, but they cause him no trouble. Underneath is a staircase and a room dark with shadows; you can see a light switch that won’t work, the electricity long gone. Rio unclips the flashlight from his belt—taken from Saratoga Springs, waterproof with a 90-degree head so it doesn’t roll, known as a Moonbeam—and ducks down into the cellar. It’s a small room, easy to clear, and then you can start inventorying your findings. Rio is laughing, ecstatic. There is a workbench, a coil of thick rope, an array of tools—screwdrivers, wrenches, hammers, saws—some homemade leather wallets and holsters, cans of Brillo color spray…and then a treasure trove of weapons mounted on the walls.

You scan the collection. “We got Marlin .22s, we got Ruger Magnums, we got Remington 12 gauges, we got hunting knives…and one Glock 20.”

“A lot of ammo under here, Chips,” Rio says, yanking boxes out from beneath the workbench and stacking them on the floor, organized by caliber.

“No scopes?”

“Not that I’ve seen yet.”

You lift one of the Remingtons off its hooks and examine it: dusty, unloaded, vines of rust on the receiver. “We’ll have to go through and sight all of them. I don’t think they’ve been used in a while.”

“That’ll be a lot of noise. But here’s the place to do it, I guess. Low population, and we’re not staying.”

“Exactly.”

“Sight them for close range, like ten yards?”

“Yeah, that should work.”

Aemond says, eyebrow raised: “I didn’t know the Navy used shotguns.”

“Everyone hunts where I’m from.” You put the Remington down on the workbench then pick up the Glock, a box of 10mm ammo, and a can of Brillo. “Come on. Grab one of those hammers. I’ll show you how to shoot.”

You bound up the cellar steps and out into the shade of the oak trees, not stopping until you are at the edge of the property. Across the backyard where he lounges on the grass, Aegon gestures to the barn and asks Luke: “What’s in there anyway?”

“Nothing. Saddles and a few dead horses.”

“Oh, dynamite, I gotta see the dead horses.”

Jace says: “Aegon, man, what is your diagnosis?”

You use the can of Brillo to spray a large chocolate-colored circle onto a tree trunk, then make another two feet above that. You count your steps as you walk back towards Aemond: approximately ten yards. You load a single bullet in the Glock, aim for the bottom circle, and fire. A hole appears at the very edge of the circle. You take the hammer from Aemond and give the rear sight a few knocks. “This isn’t recommended, but it usually works.”

Aemond is smiling. “Okay.”

You load the full magazine and try again. The bullet hits closer to the middle this time. “Here. Both hands.”

Aemond takes the Glock but hesitates. “Is…my eye…?”

“It shouldn’t be a problem. A lot of people close one eye anyway when they’re aiming. I always do.”

He is relieved. “Oh. Good.”

You tap the underside of the Glock. Aemond obediently lifts it. “The line of sight is slightly higher than the barrel, so you have to account for that. And then gravity will pull the bullet lower, and the longer the range of the shot, the more it will drop. So when you fire, the barrel should be angled upwards just the tiniest bit, not horizontal.”

“Like throwing a football.”

“Yeah, exactly. It’s an arc, not a straight line. At first it’ll feel like you’re trying to do all these calculations in your head, and it will be overwhelming, but then it becomes muscle memory and you don’t even have to think about it.” Jace, Baela, and Daeron are now eagerly crossing the yard to help Rio carry the guns out of the cellar and receive their own lessons. “Alright, we’re going to start with a really terrifying enemy. I want you to shoot that tree.”

“What a formidable tree.”

“Aim for the top circle. And if you hit it, then you can practice on Jace.”

Aemond laughs, butter-yellow sunlight filtering down through the trees, the shadows of leaves flickering over his skin, a mosaic of flesh and earth. You ghost your open hand down the length of his arm as if adjusting the angle. Really, you just want to touch him, to feel his warmth and his stillness, the tension of his muscles, the rhythm of his pulse. He’s watching you, lips parted, goosebumps rising beneath your fingertips. Birds are chirping, sparrows and blue jays. High above, squirrels leap and scrabble through the branches. You pull your hand away.

“Look through the sights. The rear sight at the back of the barrel is shaped like a U, and the one at the front is an I. Is the I in the middle of the U?”

“I have no idea.” A pause as he reconsiders. “Yes.”

“Right, it is, and the bullet should go exactly where you want it to because I already sighted that Glock. I’ll show you how to do it later. Now shoot the tree.”

Aemond aims but doesn’t pull the trigger. He’s nervous; he doesn’t want to seem incompetent, pathetic. You imagine it is rare that he isn’t the one with the solutions.

“Hey,” you say softly, and he looks over at you. “You don’t judge me for not knowing how to cure people. I won’t judge you for not knowing how to kill them. Deal?”

Now he’s smiling again. “Deal.” He returns his attention to the tree, lets a few more seconds tick by, and fires. He hits one of the branches. “Oh, that is…embarrassing.”

“It’s not that bad. You hit something. Try again.”

More seconds, more birdsong, more wind through the grass and the leaves. Aemond’s second bullet pierces the trunk about six inches above the top circle. “Yes!” he cheers, boyish triumph on his scarred face.

You resist touching him. It is startlingly difficult. “That was really good.”

He lowers the Glock, and you click the safety on for him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you say.

“Why’d you ghost that Marine at Corpus Christi?”

“I told you. I didn’t like him enough.”

“Okay, sure, but actually. What was wrong with him?”

“I’ve known you for like twenty-four hours. You think you’ve earned all my secrets?”

“Well, not all of them,” Aemond says, grinning. Rio is showing Jace, Baela, and Daeron how to load the .22s. Aegon is swinging his golf club in circles as he follows Luke into the barn. Helaena and Rhaena are giggling as butterflies land on their outstretched fingers. “But our time together could be very finite. It seems unwise to waste it by trying to preserve some amount of mystery.”

“You’ve convinced me.” You want to be known by him, you want to be understood. That is a frightening thing to realize. It’s like handing a stranger the keys to your home. Will they visit graciously, or will they rob you, ruin you, burn you down? “I haven’t seen many examples of love working out for people. I’ve seen couples who hated each other, and couples who split up, and a lot of women having to raise kids all on their own and turning into these…bitter, exhausted, hollowed-out versions of themselves. I never wanted that to be me. And for as long as I can remember, I’ve felt like that was just one wrong choice away from becoming my life. I don’t want men to disappoint me. So I don’t give them the chance.”

You think Aemond is going to say something cheap, flirtatious, awful: Give me a chance, baby. I won’t disappoint you. Instead he says: “I haven’t known many happy couples either. I mean…Luke and Rhaena would be the closest, I guess. But they’re so young. I’m not sure if they count.”

“Rio and Sophie seem happy. But they’ve also barely seen each other in five years.”

“It does things to you, when you start to believe love might be doomed to end or tear you apart or turn to hatred. If it’s just an evolutionary mirage to trick us into reproducing, what’s the point of giving someone that power over you?”

“Exactly.”

“I feel like one of us should be trying to talk the other out of being so fatalistically cynical.”

“Yeah, totally. Okay. You talk me out of it.”

He chuckles. “No, I don’t think I can. You talk me out of it.”

You’re watching Aemond, realizing you like everything about him—his smirk, his height, his hands, the clear direct blue of his eye—and wondering what the hell you’re going to do about it. Then there is a scream from the barn.

What?? Who??

“Luke!” Aemond shouts, and takes off across the yard. Now you’re all running, even Rhaena and Helaena who don’t have anything to fight with. Everyone is yelling, their lungs heaving in wild June air, their shoes pounding against the earth.

Inside the barn, on a wooden floor strewn with hay, Luke is shrieking as he tries to push a zombie off of him with his bare hands. She’s an older woman, grey hair in rollers, yellow nightgown stained with gore. Something has happened to her feet. Both of her legs end in exposed tibias and flapping strips of purplish, rotting skin. Aegon is beating her with his golf club, but he can’t get a good shot at her head. If he accidentally hits Luke, he could make it worse, he could stun him or even knock him out, and he’ll be bitten in the few seconds it takes anyone to remove his undead assailant. Rio lunges to grab the zombie. She snaps at him with bared teeth and he retreats, drawing his M9.

“Don’t shoot!” Jace is saying. The air is putrid: dead horses, dead people. “You’ll hit Luke!”

Your own M9 is suddenly in your hands, the safety clicked off, one eye closed. “Luke, don’t move.”

“Kill it, kill it!” he pleads hysterically, pushing the zombie as far from him as he can, his palms sinking into the decomposing bruise-colored tissue of her chest and throat.

“Don’t shoot!” Jace orders, but you ignore him. He fades into the background with all the other frenzied voices. Your finger on the trigger, a boom like thunder, bits of bone and brains against the wall. Luke shoves the corpse away, trembling, sobbing. Rhaena flies to him.

Aegon spots the fresh blood on Luke’s right hand and panics. “Is that a bite?!”

Luke notices the wound for the first time. “I don’t know!”

“What do you mean you don’t know?!”

“I don’t know!” Luke wails, tears flooding down his pink face.

“I thought you cleared the barn!” Aemond roars at Aegon.

“It fell out of the loft, we didn’t think anything was up there!”

Luke is blubbering: “I hit my hand against one of the stalls, I think that’s how I cut myself, I was just…I was pushing it away…I didn’t think it bit me…oh my God, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t want to die…”

“It only takes once, kid,” Rio says grimly, fidgeting with his M9, looking at Aemond as if for permission.

“Don’t touch him!” Jace hisses, stepping in front of his brother and clutching his bat. “No one is going to hurt him, it’s not a bite, you can’t prove it’s a bite!”

You reach for Luke’s bleeding hand. “Can I see—?”

“Get away from him!” Jace swings his bat. The tip of it connects with your skull, just a graze fortunately, but still enough to rattle you. Rio charges Jace, tackles him to the floor, starts throwing punches. Baela has apparently forgotten she’s heavily pregnant and is trying to pull them apart. You join her.

He’s going to demolish Jace. He’s going to break his nose or jaw or something. “Rio stop, I’m fine, stop!”

There is another gunshot, a cataclysmic earth-shaking explosion that makes the pain in your head surge from a ripple to a wave. Aemond is aiming his Glock skywards; a hole has appeared in the roof of the barn. “Stand up!” he commands. Rio and Jace reluctantly comply. You help Baela to her feet.

“Aemond,” Jace says. “You have to stop them, they’re going to kill Luke—”

“No one is killing anybody.” Aemond lowers his Glock. “Maybe he’s been bitten. Maybe he hasn’t been. And even if we knew for sure that he was going to turn, we don’t just execute people like this, threatening them when they’re terrified. We have humanity. We have compassion.”

There is a silence that strikes you as heavy, laden, holding meaning that escapes you. Aegon points at Luke. “So what the fuck are we going to do about him?”

“We’ll tie him up,” Aemond decides.

“What?!” Luke exclaims.

“There’s rope in the cellar. We’ll tie his arms and legs so he can’t do anything and keep him like that for a few days until either his hand heals up or he turns into a zombie. Someone will always have to be with him to help him eat and take a piss and also…you know. Deal with it if he turns.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Rhaena says immediately.

Aemond’s voice is now gentle, sympathetic. “I don’t think you want this.”

“If Luke has to die, I should be the person with him.”

“You’ve never had to put someone down before.” And in this statement lives another: Aemond knows what that feels like. Aemond has had to kill someone when they turned.

“I’ll stay with him,” Rhaena says again, this frail harmless doe-eyed girl, and you see a steeliness in her that you hadn’t thought existed.

“Okay,” Aemond relents. “When you’re asleep, Jace or I will take over.”

“It’s not a bite,” Jace murmurs, like he’s trying to convince himself.

“We’ll all find out soon enough,” Rio says, casting him a glare, then goes to fetch the coil of rope from the cellar.

Aemond cleans and bandages the wound on Luke’s hand. Then the weapons, ammo, and newly immobilized Luke are loaded into the Tahoe. Aemond asks you once everyone else is inside: “How’s your head?”

“Fine, I think.”

“Hurts?”

“Just a little.”

“Dizzy? Double vision?”

“No, nothing like that.”

He takes a quick look, parting your hair with his fingertips, feeling gingerly for blood and swelling. And this is becoming a serious problem: every time he touches you, you want more.

“Aemond…who did you have to kill?”

He doesn’t answer. For another moment his hand lingers by your temple, then Aemond turns away and climbs into the Tahoe. This time, no one sings along to the next song on the mixtape. Heads rest on windows, eyes are vacant and misty. Baela steers the Tahoe westbound on Route 1004, the Chainsmokers drifting through the speakers: All We Know.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Pick a card, any card,” Aegon says when he’s done shuffling. He fans out the entire Uno deck face-down and offers it to Rio, Aemond, and Jace. They each select a card, then Aegon picks one for himself. Finally, he holds out the deck to Luke, who stares up incredulously from where he’s still bound with rope and sitting on a curb in the parking lot of a Burger King just outside of Yarnell, Pennsylvania.

“Are you serious?”

“You’re an adult male, aren’t you? You think being in the middle of transforming into an undead murder machine exempts you from gasoline siphoning duty?”

“I’m fine!” Luke insists.

“Great. Then pick a card.”

“I can’t move my hands, you idiot.”

“Pick it with your mouth.”

“I hate you.” Luke bites his card of choice and waits with it clasped between his teeth, glowering.

“I want to pick a card,” Daeron says cheerfully.

Aegon refuses. “No. Too young. A baby.”

“Aegon, I’m seventeen!”

“Can’t enlist, can’t do jury duty, can’t buy lottery tickets, can’t sign up to drink gasoline. Okay, everybody show their cards.”

“I got a three,” Jace says, then yanks Luke’s card out of his mouth and reads it. “He got a skip.”

Aemond’s card is a nine, Rio’s a five, Aegon’s a reverse. “That means you lose, Jace,” Aegon announces, admittedly rather gleeful. “You had the lowest number.”

“This is bullshit, I had to siphon last time!”

“Then stop picking bad cards.”

“Jace, I can do it,” Aemond says.

“And get to be the martyr, as usual? No thanks. Give me the damn hose.”

Aegon roots around under the Tahoe seats and produces a long, semitransparent siphoning hose. “All the ones with the little pump attachments were sold out everywhere by the time we thought that might be useful,” he explains to you and Rio.

“That sucks, Jace,” Rio says. “I mean, literally, it sucks.”

“Next time we cross a bridge, I’m pushing you off it.” Jace takes the hose from Aegon, pops open the gas cap of the Dodge Ram 3500 you’ve found, and threads the hose down into the tank. He sucks on the other end and then shoves it into the Tahoe once the gasoline starts flowing. The fuel gauge was hovering just above E. Hopefully you can get at least a few gallons out of the Ram, another fifty or a hundred miles, maybe even two hundred, enough to get you across the Ohio border.

Jace is bent over and vomiting gasoline onto the pavement. Rhaena and Baela sit with Luke as Aemond feels his forehead and peers into his eyes. Daeron accompanies Helaena as she goes to scavenge inside the Burger King, her burlap messenger bag slung over one shoulder. Rio is now holding the siphoning hose and watching the liquid gold pour into the Tahoe, his smile growing with each passing second. Your eyes fall on Aemond and stay there, his careful hands, his brow knitted with concentration.

A whisper from behind you: “We could fake date to make him jealous.”

You whirl to see Aegon, mischievous smirk, neon green plastic sunglasses. “That is a super generous offer and I appreciate the thought you put into it, but no.”

“Why not?”

“It’s dishonest. It’s manipulative. If something is going to happen with Aemond, I want it to be real.”

Aegon sighs. “No, you’re right, it was a dumb idea. I just figured I have a lot of experience.”

“Experience with what?”

“People pretending to love me.” He flashes a strange, sad smile, then follows Daeron and Helaena into the Burger King.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n

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m00nlight-ramblings · 8 months

Text

Bright Like The Sun

You and Halsin reunite after months apart, and you have a surprise waiting for him.

Pairings: Halsin x AFAB reader

Warnings: pregnancy, fluff

Word Count: 1.8k

Requested: yes

A/N: Graphic created by me. I do not give permission for my work (both graphic and writing) to be used without my permission.

The caravan of adventures stood at the ready, a few people milling about to make sure everything was loaded correctly. Others were tearfully saying goodbye to loved ones, tear-stained cheeks and soft cries filling the main square of the area.

Others, like you and Halsin.

Wiping a tear, Halsin’s finger gently ran over your lip, staying their for a brief moment. The gentle display of affection caused you to smile softly – sadly – and you looked at him, his beautiful hazel eyes brimming with tears as well.

“My love,” His voice was gently and he stayed close, his larger body nearly covering yours as he held you tightly. His arms wrapped around your shoulders and he rested his head on top of yours, his soft hair falling on to your face. “Not a day nor night will go by where you are not in my mind, and in my heart,” Pulling back again, he looked at you, holding you by the shoulders, “I will write you letters. Hundreds of letters – not five days will go by where you don’t receive a letter from me.”

“I know,” You spoke, your hands finding their way to Halsin’s. They rested on top of his as your curled your fingers around his. He laid a gentle kiss on your forehead before you spoke again, “I will miss you until we are reunited – I hope my thoughts and memories are enough to satiate me for a full year.”

“The memories of last night will be burning in my mind for all of time,” Halsin said lightly, joking to break some tension. You laughed softly as he tipped his eyed, forcing you to look into his eyes, “Your body…your moans…you saying my name is more beautiful than any song ever created. Last night was one of the most beautiful nights in all of history.”

While Halsin waxed poetic about your lovemaking, as he often did, you couldn’t help but smile. Your heart hurt, thinking of spending any time apart from him.

Halsin had agreed to travel back to Moonrise Towers to help rebuild the land and re-instate the surrounding towns. Baldur’s Gate needed you to stay behind, to help with everything now that the Elder Brain was destroyed – so you two were at an impasse. Your love had blossomed and grown on the adventure to rid the tadpoles and defeat the Shadowlands curse, and you were more than excited to start your life together with Halsin…but both of your respective people needed you now, and neither of you were in a position to say no.

One year, You thought, the tears springing to life again at your eyes, Twelve months and we will be together again. Halsin wiped your tears and wrapped you in a kiss, his tongue pressing into your mouth. The shiver of arousal rippled through your body and you held on to him tighter, desperate to keep him locked in place.

Someone from the caravan shouted, causing you to both to pull away from the kiss. They were leaving now, there was no more goodbyes able to be shared. Halsin looked to you again as your burst into tears. He held you tight and peppered kisses on your cheeks.

“My heart, you will always be with me. And I will always be with you. Remember that on the long nights, or cold days. I will always be thinking of you. This temporary pain will be nothing compared to the beautiful eternity we get to share together.” He promised, wiping away the last of your tears. You nodded and looked at him, finally ready to say goodbye.

“Goodbye, Halsin. I love you so.”

Halsin smiled and kissed you, “I love you more than there are stars in the sky.” With a final kiss on your forehead he joined the others at the caravan. The large group left through the city, and as he walked through the gates, Halsin looked back at you, blowing a kiss. You smiled sadly and waved to him, pretending to grab the kiss in the air.

Twelve months may be temporary, but you wouldn’t stop longing for him for the entirety of that time.

The birds chirped as the traveling group came upon Moonrise Towers, the sun shining brightly in the sky. You took a deep breath in – the whole journey there, you couldn’t stop smiling. The last time you were here, the Shadow Curse had barely started to lift, and you could only spare a look back as you journeyed on. Now, however months later, the area was bustling back to life, once decrepit buildings now flourishing, and once shadows, now life.

You pulled your coat closer to you, the crisp morning air bristling around you. Your heat thumped rapidly and the group came to a stop, a gentleman helping you off of the traveling cart. Thanking him, you hopped off gently, walking a few steps to take in the scenery. Still smiling, you put your hand to your eyes to shield the sun as you looked up to the now beautiful Moonrise Towers.

Guards, workers, and pedestrians strode by you on the grounds, gardeners maintaining the foliage in the front. Flowers burst in clay pots, and giant trees littered the front area. Tears glimmered in your eyes as you saw what seemed to be a completely different place from before. You heart swelled with pride – Halsin and the rest of the crew were doing a fantastic job.

“Ma’am, may I help you?” A guard came to you, smiling. You turned to him, dropping your hand. Instinctively, you laid your hand gently on the mound in your coat. “I see you’ve arrived with the other travelers that just came. Are you needing assistance at all – someone to find, or such?”

You nodded, “I’m looking for Halsin?” You peeked around the guard. He nodded.

“Master Halsin is usually very busy around this time, but let me see what I can do. Come this way.” The guard took you through the entrance of Moonrise Towers. The grand entryway had sprung to life in its new rebuild, decadent golds and red tapestries decorating the halls. Candles burned on every wall and in every corner, and the strong sense of spicy incense filled the air.

A far cry from the last time you had visited.

The guard slowly weaved in and out of groups of people and took you to another grand room, right of off the main entryway. There, a group of important-looking citizens gathered, discussing something in motion in front of a large fireplace. Two guards stood at attention at the entrance of the room.

The guard signaled for you to wait at the entrance and he strode into the room. You followed him with your eyes and realized he made his way to Halsin.

My Halsin.

Your heart thumped in your chest, the blood pounding in your brain. You couldn’t fight the smile on your face if you tried. You watched the guard touch Halsin’s shoulder, alerting him to your arrival. Halsin, obviously not expecting anyone, looked confused for a moment but followed where the guard was pointing to. When his eyes locked yours, his mouth fell agape and he rushed to you, closing the distance between you two in only a few steps.

“My heart!” He cried, holding your shoulders. The feeling of his touch was indescribable – you could feel the tears in your eyes as you both smiled at each other, lovesick. He went to hug you but you gently stopped him, a flicker of confusion on his face. “What are you doing here? What is the meaning of this surprise – to what gods do I thank to see your face sooner than twelve months?”

“I have a surprise for you,” You said, taking a step back. “I know we agreed upon twelve months, but…” You unbuttoned the fabric of your spring coat, revealing the mound you kept inside.

You son, with his perfect tiny elf-pointed ears, and button shaped nose, laid in your homemade sling, sleeping peacefully. Though his eyes were closed, when open, the stunning hazel orbs would always wildly inspect everything they could get their sight on. His tiny little fingers would grab for anything within reach, and his giggle was the sweetest lullaby you had ever head.

You looked up at Halsin, watching his reactive. Instinctively, you gently placed a hand on your son’s head, “We just couldn’t wait.”

Halsin stood agape, looking between you and your baby. After what seemed like a lifetime, he finally spoke, “He is…?”

“Yours, of course. Ours,” You slid the jacket off and placed it on the nearest chair, “The night before you left for Moonrise brought more than just vivid memories. It brought us our son.”

Halsin gazed upon the baby in wonderment. Once the words finally settled over him, tears brimmed in his eyes and he grinned, reaching for his son. You smiled as you undid the sling, gently passing him to Halsin. Though the baby was covered by Halsin’s giant hands, he was gently with his touch, cradling the baby as if he was the most precious gift in the world.

Which, to the two of you, he was.

“Our son…” Halsin whispered, looking upon him. He kissed his forehead gently and rocked him back and forth.

“I haven’t named him yet,” You said, coming to Halsin’s side and peering at the two of them, “He’s been ‘My Sweet Baby Boy’ for some time now…I wouldn’t want to have done that without you, of course.”

“Forgive me, my heart,” Halsin said, almost breathless, “I just…am overwhelmed. I cannot believe not only that you are here but…our son.”

You nodded, “I know.”

“Altan,” Halsin finally said, “For him. I like the name ‘Altan’…‘bright like the sun’.” He looked at me and bent his head down to gently kiss me, leaving me breathless. I smiled into the kiss, pressing my lips on to his. When he pulled away, he looked at me. “Our son.” He said again. I chuckled and nodded, looking at our baby.

“Our son. Altan…our son.”

Halsin smiled and leaned into me. Altan slowly opened his eyes and cooed, looking right at Halsin. He gasped and looked at him, still as stone. Altan smiled, reaching his arm up to grab at Halsin’s face. Halsin tipped his head down so Altan could reach, and Altan pressed his fingers to Halsin’s chin.

You giggled and watched the interaction, your heart feeling like it was about to burst. In all your life, you never had any idea that happiness could feel so big, so expansive.

Halsin looked at you and kissed your temple. Returning his gaze back to Altan, he smiled. He spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Our son.”

---

A/N: "Daddy Halsin" has a whole new meaning. Okay...I'll shut up now. ANYWAY reblogs/likes/comments are so so so appreciated if you enjoyed my work!

#bg3 #halsin #halsin x tav #halsin x reader #bg3 halsin #halsin fan fic #halsin fanfic #halsin fluff #halsin x oc #halsin fan fiction #baldurs gate 3

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catelyngrant · 10 months

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So I'm thinking about the Fourteenth Doctor, and the bi-generation, and how he may have come to an end. What happened to him after those years he spent with Donna and her family, and with so many other friends on Earth (oh, I am headcanon-ing, friends), existing day-to-day and beginning to heal? After he learned how to let himself be loved, and shown compassion, and forgiven—and, eventually, learned to love, forgive, and care for himself? What happened when, at the end of this journey, his regeneration energy (I assume?) traveled back (in some hand-wavey fashion) to become the Fifteenth Doctor, who is born out of that love and forgiveness and compassion and is ready to move forward in the universe?

Fourteen becomes Fifteen—but what about the TARDIS?

Fourteen's TARDIS was created for the same reason Fourteen was: they needed to slow down, to be gentle. They needed to find a home that wasn't moving at the speed of light. So maybe this TARDIS is a little gentler, too. Maybe she's a little more careful of herself and her charges.

When Fourteen takes Rose to Mars, they land right where they're supposed to, and Rose sees wonders. Nothing bad happens, and they return home five minutes after they left.

When Shaun wants to see a football match from 1988, he opens the TARDIS door and she takes him right there, flying all by herself, to Fourteen's chagrin.

When Fourteen takes Mel to New York, they have adventures that don't involve running, or hiding, or screaming with anything but laughter. When Fourteen takes Jo, Ace, and Tegan to the Jurassic era, the only danger he faces is when he makes an age joke.

When, after Sarah Jane dies (yeeeears in the future, tyvm), Fourteen takes Luke, Maria, Clyde, and Rani to see Florana—the place he promised to take Sarah Jane all those years ago—the TARDIS chooses the safest, most beautiful moment in time for them to honor her memory.

When Donna and Martha and Yaz and Shirley sneak in for a joyride, they have the time of their lives, and the TARDIS covers for them. (Fourteen suspects, but can't prove it.)

When Fourteen is struggling, and chafing at life on Earth, and just needs to run, to fix things, to solve puzzles, to get away from the day-to-day of it all, the TARDIS lets him. She takes him so many places he's never been before, and they're all beautiful and wild and remind him what he loves about the universe.

(He tries, a few times, to go places that might bring him pain, and she gently refuses.)

And every now and then, someone will try to get in. This TARDIS doesn't have a key; she just opens to those in her care, and refuses entry to those she doesn't trust. She is safe, and so are they.

When Donna's in her eighties and can't get around as easily, the TARDIS takes her where she can manage. When Rose is overwhelmed with the pain of the world, the TARDIS takes her to places where none of that pain exists, and lets her stay as long as she needs to.

They live magnificent lives, and the TARDIS takes care of them. And then, at the end of it, Fourteen is ready for what comes next, and he becomes Fifteen. There's only one Doctor again.

But this TARDIS...

I think she stays, right in the corner of that yard. She leaves and then lands so precisely that roots and ivy grow over her. The Doctor is gone, and eventually Mel and Sarah Jane and Jo and Donna and Martha and everyone that traveled with the Doctor once upon a time in a different TARDIS are gone too.

But Rose is still there. Luke, Maria, Rani, and Clyde are still there. Their families, their kids. The TARDIS opens to them, and shows them the universe. She takes them only where she chooses to, and it's always exactly where they need to go.

She always takes them home, to the garden that once belonged to Donna Noble.

The Doctor finds new companions. Some of them come home to Earth after awhile, but they're not stuck dreaming of the universe. You showed me the furthest reaches of the galaxy, Sarah Jane said. You showed me supernovas, intergalactic battles, and then you just dropped me back on Earth. How could anything compare to that? We get a taste of that splendor, but then we have to go back.

These new companions, they return to Earth and their lives there, but every now and then, they swing by that old house that the Noble family has lived in for generations. They say hello to this old/new box, and she invites them in.

They don't have to say goodbye to the universe. She's right there in Chiswick, waiting for them.

And sometimes—on rare occasions, when they need it, or when he (or she, or they) does—she takes them to the Doctor.

#doctor who #fourteenth doctor #fifteenth doctor #the tardis #donna noble #dw spoilers #headcanons #my fic #ish???#(also i have a bulletin board covered in string detailing exactly how sarah jane is actually alive and well in 2023)#(i also just choose for it to be so)

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lowkeyrobin · 2 months

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FIVE HARGREEVES ; now you're gone, out of reach

summary ; you end up disappearing due to the kugelblitz and five gets drunk as hell at the wedding after finding out

warnings ; language, talk about death & loss, five being drunk

disclaimers ; five is reminded of reader with fruity things, scents, drinks etc

track ; cigarettes, david kushner

word count ; 1.3k

masterlist

You were just some un-powered love interest to Five Hargreeves, having traveled to the ends of the universe and back with him. You'd also been stuck in your pubescent body, due to some accidents at the Commission.

But they were gone now, for the most part.

You and Five never really made it official, so to say. Too much trying to save the world and restarting your lives over and over again for it.

But as you sat at the bar in the Hotel Obsidian, you old, retired skinbags who didn't seem to age had finally worked out your romantic problems. Apparently, the space time continuum wouldn't allow you two to be any further than five feet away from each other, fate dragging you out to Pennsylvania to join Klaus on a road trip.

You were far enough away from the first wave that snatched the lobsters, avoiding it by a few feet on that dark night. You'd avoided death like another character in Final Destination.

You stuck by him like your life depended on it, unknowing of your soon-to-come fate.

After nearly avoiding another wave of the Kugelblitz, which sucked up a shit ton of cows by the Amish where Klaus supposedly came from, you all knew something was up. Not because you'd been sucked away, but because cows don't just disappear. Neither do lobster, but no one ever takes you seriously. You needed a break, maybe you hallucinated it, right?

Like how Five apparently hallucinated ever knowing you, right?

Upon returning to the Hotel Obisidian, you run up to your room, hoping to retrieve a comfort item from your room, at least a blanket, to cope with the oncoming stress.

And then, you never returned.

Five assumed you probably fell asleep, and didn't bat an eye when his newfound lover never returned from their room that afternoon. The grandfather paradox was explained to the Hargreeves siblings, informing themselves of what they'd done to the timeline, fucking it up enough for it to want to destroy itself, creating a black hole of sorts to eat everything up.

It ate everything up within a million miles radius, other than the powered individuals and the hotel itself which had gone untouched, other than you, of course.

Upon realizing that he hadn't seen you in damn near days, and that the theories and excuses that you were asleep or out on an adventure couldn't be true, Five searches the Hotel Obsidian for you. He wished to see you again, wanting to drag you onto the dance floor and slow dance with you at his side, his brothers and their lovers feet away doing the same, staring into each other's eyes like there was no tomorrow, because there wasn't.

As he enters your room, a light, fruity smell burrows into his nose. A warm yellow, quilted blanket lays on your bed, vertically scrunched like you were holding it before disappearing into thin air.

The fear grasps onto Five like nothing had before. His chest tightens like his ribs were suffocating his lungs and heart, his mind racing a million miles an hour.

He forgot you weren't one of them. You were just... you. Normal.

He searches the room top to bottom, praying to God that this wasn't some sort of sick prank. But, with no trace, he accepts the truth, realizing you'd faded into the fabric of the universe.

Soft, salty tears pour down his cheeks.

His last day on Earth and he couldn't even spend it with you.

How many days had you been gone without him even batting an eye?

His ignorance caused your disappearance, not that you weren't protected by the locked safe known as the Hotel Obsisidian, which remained untouched for the most part by the Kugelblitz. You didn't have that special little barrier that came with the children born on October 1st 1989. You couldn't have been protected anywhere you went.

As the world crumbles around him, Five solemnly trails down the many flights of stairs back down to the bar, trying to keep his spirit lifted for his brother's wedding. He couldn't be weak now, not in a time for final celebration before his pain would be relieved, everything he had to internally die for to be lifted away.

A long, perilous journey waits for him among the stairs.

"Don't die, Mr. Five."

Christ, he could hear Pogo a million light years away warning him.

He sits at the bar alone, his mind drifting to another world as he absent mindedly drinks himself to death. Behind him dances Luther and Sloane, enjoying their first dance together.

Aftward, Diego and Lila join them on the dance floor. Accompanying them is Klaus, Ben, and Viktor.

Five maintains his seat at the bar, trying to fuck himself up as much as possible.

He looks over his shoulder, seeing Diego and Lila enthusiastically bouncing around, enjoying their last memories together.

That should've been you and him. He should've had you wrapped in his arms, spinning you around out there with colorful lights blanketed over your bodies. He wanted to feel you pressed against him, fingers intertwined as you danced in that ballroom for the first and last time. He wanted to remember every good and bad moment with you one more time before you both became another speck of dust for the stars.

Viktor, concerned, approaches Five, knowing of the events of your disappearance. Five was the only one who couldn't push past the loss at the moment, which was obvious. He sits down next to his brother, a glass of some sort of alcohol stored in a small shot glass in his hand.

"You alright?" He asks.

"Good as I'll ever be" Five slurs, resting his head on his left hand, his elbow perched on the bar counter.

"Miss Y/n, don't you?" Viktor frowns, rubbing Five's back in an attempt to comfort him.

Five nods, taking another chug from his vodka, the strong, sour taste on his tongue causing him to cringe. "Just wish I had more time. Like, the light that guided me through the dark is just gone. All lights turned off can't be turned on, I guess"

"That's oddly poetic" Viktor chuckles. "Your inner old man will always be stuck deep down inside of you, huh?"

"Says you." The physically younger man laughs, "You're what? Thirty-four? How long were you stuck in the sixties?"

"Dude, it was like a month"

"Whoops"

The two laugh loudly, drunk out of their minds to ease the hurt of imminent death rolling upon them. They look back at their family, dancing, smiling, enjoying their time together. They smile, knowing that even at the end of it all, they'd be happy together.

That's all it took.

Five mixes himself up a pineapple refresher to try and settle his liver, not trying to let organ failure take him before the Kugelblitz did. As he remembers, he's brought back to memories of you and him at a bar back in the sixties, sipping on some fruity margaritas in Dallas.

"Fuck it, I need something stronger"

"Something stronger and you'll end up jumping off the roof within the hour"

"Where's Klaus the alcoholic know-it-all when you need him?..."

As the hotel crumbles around them deep in the night, Five sleeps, blacked out, with your yellow blanket beside him. It reeked of a citrus scent, reminding him of you.

His tired, baggy eyes and messily hair speak volumes if his slurred speech before he knocked himself out didn't. He awaits to see you again in the fabric of the universe, awaiting to be scooped away as he slumbers one last night, this time, alone.

As he begins dissolving into stardust, he dreams of relaxing on a quiet beach with you, the smell of fruit stuck in his nose, colorful, patterned shirts covering your chests loosely.

At least he was able to find peace in your absence.

You were gone and out of reach, but even with that, he'd find a way to get to you, to reach you just one last time.

#lowkeyrobin #gn reader #gender neutral reader #they/them reader #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #the umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy #gn! reader #five x reader

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