#the pain in serendipity

[pendragyn]

tumblr did the thing again

[perenlop]

hey yall genuine call to action here. i need to find a book series i read in middle school that i can’t remember the name of at all

so the book was formatted as a collage of several different notes, school planners, grades, teachers notes, text messages, diary entries, crumpled wrappers or used objects (this would all be on the same page material, it was not actually multimedia) and it all told the fictional story of a young middle school girl who lost her dad not that long ago and wants her mother to marry her boyfriend so she can have a nuclear family again, but she realizes that the transition there is rocky and her grades begin to suffer, and you can see notes pop up of teachers asking if she’s okay, texts about how awful a sleepover was at her house because of her stepdad, etc. there’s also a sequel where the mom has a baby with the stepdad and they have to deal with him being a premie and the stepdad is maybe weird about it

specific details i remember are that the main character can’t drink milk without getting sick because her dad was getting milk for her cereal when he died, the mom being a lawyer and having to resign bc of the baby (or got fired), and the stepdad was a weird war guy

[a-star-that-fell]

re: the gallbladder thing, i think what was the most terrifying was being completely alone the whole time i was in the hospital. my ex “helped” take care of me when i was at home afterwards but from the er to discharge i didn’t have anyone who didn’t work there with me

[mona22]

Čitajte.

Malo više dobrih knjiga, malo manje štampe.

Malo više sebe, malo manje druge.

Malo više sne, malo manje stvarnost.

Malo više trenutak, malo manje dane.

Hermann Hesse

[haylstrmz]

[mysticdestiniesarchive]

Day 3: Let the Unseen Be Seen

We bring you another guy who has been eagerly waiting to meet you: Shinji Hirayama!

Even with being born into a family with a long history of producing exceptional mages, Shinji stands out. As an elemental mage, he’s one of the few in his family who learned how to control all four elements. But thanks to his appearance, this dreamy genius with a talent for music is often perceived as a slacker by others - not that he minds.

One other talent sets Shinji apart from the rest of this family: the fact that he is an esper. When he was a child, a certain event caused Shinji to gain the ability to see and talk to spirits, thus giving him esper powers. Set adrift between this world and the next one, he tries to help as many spirits as he can along the way. Shinji decided to go to college to set his parent’s mind at ease - to prove that he isn’t getting lost among the dead.

“The world is far more beautiful than most ever notice. But if they paused for just a second they might find themselves seeing everything with new eyes.”

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Face it dear, you need someone like me.

Synopsis: You live a happy life with your husband, Ralph, who never notices you running off in the middle of the night to a certain radio host…

Warnings: Cheating, NSFW under the cut! Alastor being Alastor! Oh and Human Alastor because he will always be my fav <33

Navigation!! // Masterlist!! // Serendipity Writes (event )

You lived a quiet life. Your husband Ralph was more than enough. He worked in construction and was busy all morning and into the late hours of the night, getting home at eight p.m sharp every evening. The two of you had a lovely marriage, some would say picture perfect even. A small house, living in the city. What more could you ask for?

Well maybe some alone time. Or financial security. But hey you can’t have it all right?

You hadn’t intended on cheating on your husband. Hell you didnt even want to get involved with Alastor, he was just a colleague. But, he had so sweetly convinced you to go dancing with him one night after your husband knocked out on the couch. Sneaking out was easy when he slept like a log and honestly? It was the best night of your life. You felt alive. Like things were okay. You felt so pretty in your dress, with your hair done up. The two of you had even shared a flask on your way back to your home.

But then Alastor turns down the wrong street, and now you’re on his doorstep, the both of you fiddling with the lock, trying not to pull away from each other even though you both need air. But everything felt so good, so right. When he finally opens the door to his home you both stumble in, giggling all the way. He hazardously removes your coat, letting it drop to the floor as he does the same with his. You kick your heels off, while he does the same with his. Garments are tossed as you both make your way up the stairs, sliding into walls and becoming an entangled mess of laughter. His hands are everywhere they shouldn’t be, and yours remain wrapped around his shoulders, manicured nails raking through his hair as the kisses descend from your lips down the side of your neck, where he bites down ever so slightly. He kicks the door to his bedroom open wider, the two of you walking in as he sits you on the bed, pulling back to see your face. Lips are swollen, and the red lipstick you had worn for him was smudged off the side of your lip. The marks down the side of your neck were beginning to form despite only being made moments ago, but he’s a passionate lover who loves to leave his mark on things.

No, you hadn’t intended on cheating on your husband. But he was so gentle with you, so warm and loving, his touch lit you ablaze like if you were a forest fire. Feeling something felt amazing, and he felt all the better.

No, you didn’t want to cheat on your husband. You didn’t plan on taking your lunch breaks just to walk around the park with Alastor. That wasn’t done intentionally, it just happened. The same way everything else did.

You didnt want to cheat on your husband, but when he knocks three times on your door nine thirty you know it’s Alastor. You don’t even think twice before leaving to spend the night with your favorite man. A man who isn’t your husband.

You dont like cheating on your husband. No, not when you hear him talk about how much he wants to start a family with you. How painfully you have to smile back at him, knowing you aren’t even interested in sleeping in the same bed as him anymore. What a cellophane Alastor called him.

“That man is undeserving of you dear. When are you going to be honest with yourself hm?”

He’d say, at the worst damn time too. Slotted perfectly between your legs, asking you these things when your mind is nothing but mush because of him. But isn’t that the best part? Because it’s him you’re doing all this for. It’s Alastor you choose to spend your nights with, and that makes him want you so much more. So you could imagine his pain when he knocked three times and you didn’t answer. No, not when he heard those sweet sounds of yours from the other side of the door. How dare you.

Yes, Ralph was your husband. But Alastor was so much better than him, it was almost hard to fake it. “I love you so much Y/n.” Your husband said with a sigh, sleep finally taking over his body. You just nod, feeling guilty. No, you don’t like cheating on your husband. But how are you supposed to feel when your husband doesn’t feel like your husband anymore? When he feels like a man you sleep with so he doesn’t become angry with you? You gather yourself together quickly, not even recognizing the time, and shut your bedroom door quietly. You make your way to the kitchen in a robe, and almost jump out of your skin when you see Alastor standing next to the counter with a cup of tea in his hand.

“Alastor…- Alastor I-“ You were at a loss for words. How did he even get in?

“Tell me, my dear. Why won’t you leave him?”

Alastor asks, setting his hot cup down on the counter. His smile doesn’t change, but it’s thin. You know he’s upset with you. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to, break the news to him.” You say, looking down. Alastor scoffs, pushing off the counter to walk towards you.

“Do you love him?”

Alastor asks, stopping a few feet away from you. “I do…but-“

“No. Do you love him?”

Alastor asks again. He knows the answer. You both do. “No. No I don’t.” You whisper to yourself, tears brimming your eyes. Alastor smiles wider now.

“Then why do you let him use you? You know he isn’t half as good with you as I am.”

He says, getting close enough to take your hands in his. Tears fall from your face, and Alastor coo’s as he wipes your tears.

“I don’t want to hurt him.” You say, sighing. Alastor just smiles.

“Why don’t,”

He says, moving to tilt your face to look at him. He smiles as you stare at him teary eyed, and though usually he’d love it, right now he wants that sad look gone.

“You get your things, and why don’t we leave?”

Alastor asks. You stare at him wide eyed. “Leave? But, my home-“ Alastor tut’s at you, pulling away from you to walk back to his place by the counter. You stand there, shocked.

“Do you really need to stay?”

Alastor asks with a laugh.

“Darling, you’ve already hurt him enough.”

He says, hoping that will snap you out of it. When he see’s you still, stuck there, he pinches the bridge of his nose, glasses moving up.

“He can’t give you what I can.”

He says, and you shake your head.

“Alastor he’s been a good man to me. I can’t just-“

“Can’t what? Sleep with another man and then try to act like you’re perfect? Dear you and I both know we are far from perfect.”

Alastor says, and it hurts because you know he’s right. You’ve already hurt your husband, so why are you still sticking around as if you care?

“He’s been there for me through so much. He needs me.”

You say in a low voice. You didn’t think this would hurt you this much.

“What about what you need?”

Alastor asks, studying your features closely. He walks back to you again, this time pulling you closer to meet him halfway. This time you’re forced to look at him. He gets closer to your face, and you hate the way you feel butterflies when his thumb traces your bottom lip.

“Face it dear, you need someone like me.”

[shogunish]

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼𝘀 & 𝗶. [𝟬𝟱]

synopsis. megumi believes that the greatest stroke of serendipity is his dad and you tucking him into bed.

words. 1.4k

warnings. none!

note. living off of gojo crumbs these days..life is not gojo-ing the way it used to gojo 😔💔

previous || next || masterlist

family tasted like honey. thick and sweet and easy to spread out, even though it was a pain to wipe the excess of it off the spoon.

megumi knew what honey tasted like, but it was too sweet for his tastes until the evening his dad tucked him into the sheets and the dim lights of the lamp dipped the room into golden hues. kuro and shiro were curled up at his little feet, keeping megumi warm and cozy like a cocoon of fur.

a teddy bear — one that satoru had won for him at a fair — was in megumi’s arms while he stared at his dad with eyes like that of a doe. innocent and pure, but a little sleepy around the edges. “where’s [name]?” megumi pouted, blinking his big eyes.

a look of surprise flashed across satoru’s features and yet..he wasn’t surprised at all. the kid was so attached to you, always wanting you in this little home and asking about your whereabouts. he had been devastated when satoru explained why you couldn’t come over because of your period and even wrote you a little card, wishing you a speedy recovery for your tummy aches.

“she’s washing the dishes, little man,” satoru explained calmly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “you need anything from her?”

a beat of silence. then, megumi nodded his head once slowly. “yeah. it’s important.”

affectionately, satoru ruffled a hand through megumi’s messy locks and chuckled like he always did: so carefree and easy-going. “fine. i’ll get her. wait a sec, yeah?”

megumi eagerly waited in his bed with his black eyes round as the moon and shimmering like the night sky just outside his window when his dad came back with you in tow. the mattress dipped underneath your weight and some more as satoru took a seat right next to you on the edge of his bed.

this was the picture megumi wanted to see for so, so long.

his papa being next to his mama, tucking him in and wishing him a good night.

“papa told me you wanted to see me?” you asked with a gentle smile sitting upon your lips, voice soft as silk and warm as..honey.

yeah, maybe honey wasn’t too bad if you were there.

the innocent words of a mere child got stuck in megumi’s throat. dark eyes darted about the room, plump cheeks reddened like ripe apples on a warm summer day and for some reason, his heart was pounding under his ribs. instead of hurrying him, you waited patiently for megumi to find his words that had gotten lost in his throat.

“can you tell me another story?” megumi mumbled into his precious teddy bear with the fancy bow wrapped around the neck.

ah, how sweet of a kid megumi was. you swore your heart melted like ice-cream in the sun and turned into nothing but a puddle.

“you tell him bedtime stories?” satoru inquired. lips pulled into a warm smirk, he couldn’t help but feel curious what his son and the cute babysitter were up to when he way away for work.

“i do,” you confirmed, “every evening, i tell him a story until he falls asleep.”

satoru chuckled. “you’re lucky, buddy. [name] never tells me stories when it’s bedtime for me.”

at that, megumi giggled. “papa’s jealous.”

was this what family was like?

to have mama and papa sitting on the edge of his bed, tucking him in and being so playful with each other? to go on walks together and have mama tend to his scraped knee while papa was busy scolding the stones megumi had slipped on?

megumi never wanted to let go of that feeling. ever. not even homework could ruin the warm, fuzzy feeling of honey in his tummy.

nonchalantly, you waved a hand in front of satoru’s face, brushing his feelings of so-called jealousy off. “anyways,” you said, “let’s see what tonight’s story will be..”

behind you, you could feel satoru pouting at the way you dismissed him like he was nothing but a fly on your shoulder and maybe he even whispered to megumi how cruel women could be, but you paid his antics no mind.

“ah.” your face lit up when you came up with a little story. “a long, long time ago, there lived a princess far away from home. all she wanted to be was a child, but her big bad brother forced her to become the wife of a king of a culture foreign to her. but despite her hardships, she wasn’t alone. you know why?"

a gasp fell from megumi’s lips; the kid was obviously hooked from the very moment you opened your mouth. “tell me! what happened to the princess? did a prince rescue her?” he asked, wanting to know all the details about the world you had made up in your head just for him.

shaking your head, you smiled and leaned in like megumi’s excitement was rubbing off on you. “even better. she was gifted three dragon eggs that would eventually hatch and bring magic back to the world…”

while the princess was starting to conquer the world with her dragons and make a name for herself, megumi fell asleep. his little eyes felt like lead and all that could be heard were his soft snores and an occasional sniffle. the teddy bear was still held tightly by megumi though. not even an apocalypse could rip the plushie from his hands, you and satoru thought.

“so dragons and princesses? that’s what you’ve been telling my son about?” satoru inquired once he closed the door behind megumi’s bedroom and it was just the two of you on his couch, watching the last scenes of some mediocre rom-com play out.

“so you are jealous,” giggling, you nudged satoru playfully before relaxing back into the soft cushions with a sigh making it past your lips.

it was a little moment of peace before you’d go back to your own home. the more you were with the gojos, the more you noticed that your four walls lacked some life. sure, a couple of plants lived on your shelves and on the window sill, but they weren’t a little kid asking for cookies right before lunch or dogs barking in their sleep or satoru who’d keep you company on the couch.

home was nice, but this..this was family. life.

“maybe a little bit,” satoru joked and stretched his arm along the backrest, so close to your shoulders. how badly he wanted to just pull you in and relive the moment you snoozed away on him, but he refrained from doing so.

like there was an invisible line he didn’t want to cross.

satoru blamed the rapid beating of his heart on the way you handled megumi. how couldn’t he feel a little attracted to you when you got along with his son so well? it was just the hormones, he wanted to tell himself but the budding feeling in the soil of his heart spoke otherwise.

it wouldn’t be long until that sprout would grow roots and bloom into something that would fill the cavern of his chest; lungs, arteries, heart and veins. all of it would be in full bloom.

while satoru could rip out the budding something like it was weed, he chose not to.

“you know, there is a little party that my company holds and i thought it’d be nice if you became my plus one,” satoru spoke in soft tones before settling his sky blue gaze on your surprised face. he could watch the cogs in your head processing his words and then– ah, it clicked.

“..are you sure? i don’t think i’d fit in well.” furrowing your eyebrows, you immediately thought about all those men in suits from brands you couldn’t even pronounce and their curled mustaches, their wives draped in diamonds and everything fine.

it was a world you didn’t belong to and yet..

“let that worry be mine,” satoru assured you with an easy shrug of his shoulders and a smile on his lips which was so easy on the eyes. “you’re the only person who could make that evening interesting and there’s free food.”

“i’m in.” you immediately agreed.

satoru blinked in surprise.

so all it took for you to accompany him was the promise of free food.

taglist. @torusmochi, @cinnamonmon, @risuola, @ayanominitrash, @lordbugs, @phoenix666stuff, @hotvinimon, @stevenknightmarc, @sukunasleftkneecap, @erigaur, @lu-lynds, @staryukis

[lev1hei1chou]

JUJUTSU KAISEN MASTERLIST

A- Angst

F- Fluff

C- Comfort

GOJO SATORU

Boyfriend!Gojo (F) - Oddly specific Bf!Gojo headcanons By Your Side (A, F) - What if Gojo didn't die and was revived Dentist Calls (F) - Gojo gets a cavity Kikufuku (F) - Kikufuku chef Gojo ft. his cooking partner Serendipity (F) - A tall, handsome stranger at a bookshop 9:01 (F) - Gojo gets a piercing with you Why him? (F) - Gojo's daughter wants to marry uncle Geto 7:36 (F) - Gojo proposes in his own style As I Was Saying (F) - Gojo is determined to interrupt your phonecall First Day (F) - Dad Gojo's sends his child to preschool Skincare Rituals (F) - Gojo and skincare Jealousy, Jealousy (F) - Gojo gets hit on at a date Marked By Love (F) - Gojo finds your tattoo A Blossoming Proposal (F) - Gojo has competition: a child. Gym Time (F) - Gojo works out with you Curses Unveil Confessions (F) - Confess after getting injured in a mission Sick Day (F) - Gojo is a total pain when he's sick First Steps (F) - Dad Gojo gets a surprise when he returns from a mission Flowers For You (F) - Gojo gets you flowers, just because Birthday Present (F) - Dad Gojo teaches your toddler some words Little Snitch (F) - Gojo's son is a snitch Caught (F) - Gojo and your child have been caught lying Mini Gojo (F) - You dress up your baby like a miniature of Gojo Monopoly (F) - Gojo and the gang play monopoly Boop Wars (F) - You boop Gojo and start the boop war Birds and bees? (F) - How are babies made? You hug! Old Man (F) - A child calls Gojo 'old man' Grammy (F) - Gojo thinks he deserves a grammy Impressioner (F) - Gojo tries to impress you (and fails) Kitchen Catastrophe (F) - Gojo isn't the best cook, but he tries Fashion Icon (F) - Gojo's baby has to be a fashion icon 7:25 (C) - You think Gojo deserves better Cravings (F) - Gojo rates your pregnancy cravings Run Away (F) - Gojo's daughter wants to run away from home 3:27 (F) - Gojo finds you sleeping in his uniform A Dad's Promise (F) - Gojo meets his baby for the first time

SERIES

Gojo's Youtube Misadventures (F) - Upcoming

NANAMI KENTO

Faded (A) - Breaking up with Nanami The Shibuya Incident (A) - Nanami's fate in Shibuya, pt 2 of Faded Warm Mornings (A) - He's not gone, right? pt 3 of Faded Second Chances (F) - Patch up with Nanami, alt ending of Faded Trip to Malaysia (F) - Nanami moves to Malaysia with you A Future with You (F) - Nanami builds a future, pt 2 of Trip to Malaysia Sakura Blossom (F) - Cafe date with Nanami Little Superhero (F) - Dad Nanami gets called to the preschool Zoo Day (F) - Nanami visits a zoo in Australia

FUSHIGURO TOJI

Guardian (F) - Toji saves someone, uncharacteristically

GETO SUGURU

Geto's Warning (F) - Geto's daughter wants to marry uncle Gojo Forbidden Love (A) - Would you choose love or morals?

MULTIPLE CHARACTERS

Orange Peel Theory (F) - Gojo, Nanami Lipstick Kisses (F) - Gojo, Nanami Makeup Artists (F) - Gojo, Nanami, Toji My Husband (F) - Gojo, Nanami

[fan-goddess]

hello!could you write a reaction to the dragon's house × !fem!reader, when she was flying over the sea with the dragon and one of the enemies was on the ship and shot from a crossbow.

(she and her dragon are alive but slightly injured)

Aegon,Aemond,Jacaerys Velaryon-romantic love

Alicent,Daemon,Rhaenyra,Helaena,Laenor Valeryon-platonic love

sorry if there are any mistakes! I hope everything is clear💝I've actually been thinking about this for a long time💥

HOTD characters reactions of when reader is hurt

The summary: The characters each find out during your usual flight around kingslanding that you were shot down by some people belonging to a certain group that hate the Targaryen traditions and believe it to be an abomination.

A/N: They’re all personalised and hopefully different backstories, but have given reader the same dragon in all of them as making dragons are hard. The wound is also pretty much same, but the severity is altered in some places. In the platonic ones I made reader call them mother or father, since I made them a parent. Some of these are very different as I expanded on some more and developed others. You can tell which.

This ain’t fully proofread we die like Luke!

Taglist: @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee @targaryenbarbie

Warning: Wounds, various gore mentions, incest, kissing, tried to make it gender neutral and lack of descriptions but there are some scattered about! (if I miss any let me know)

Aegon Targaryen:

When Aegon heard the news from his mother who’d rushed to inform him of your sudden injury, he all but sprinted to the infirmary where you were being treated by one of the leading maesters.

“My love, are you alright?!? I am so sorry my love I should have insisted to accompany you! When I find the man who did this to you I shall rip off his head and feed his insides to Sunfyre and Shrykos!” He declares, the words tumbling quickly with how much rage flooded his body at the sight of your wounded self. You could barely keep up with him if you were being honest.

“Aegon, my sweet husband, it is fine! ‘Tis merely a flesh wound!” You insist, yet wincing as soon as the reassurance falls from your lips.

“And yet here you are heavily bleeding, and in very much pain! You should take some milk of the poppy!” Aegon says, looking around to find the bottle, even when you try and insist you were fine. “If you were fine you’d be with me, in our bed, safe and unharmed! So don’t argue with me wife or my wrath will be misguided!”

You merely humour him by sipping slightly at the small contents of the cup the maester had passed to you. Yet still, you can’t deny that the liquid had its desired effects, as your previously aching wound now significantly dulls down to a mere small throb once in a while.

“Now wife. Tell me who hurt you.” Aegon demands, his eyebrows furrowed and his grip tightened on your body as he insured you would be unable to get away from him.

“Just some idiotic men thinking themselves higher than us my love. They shot at me and Shrykos from their ship when we least expected it with bloody crossbones of all things, and somehow barely managed to skim us. Yet they somehow did not expect the very large dragon to get angry that their rider and themself was just attacked with no prior warning. Shrykos certainly made sure to enact on our lovely families motto. By the time she was done with them, there was nothing left but fire and blood sinking to the bottom of the sea.”

Aegons face slowly turns more and more relaxed, and by the end of your tale he’s practically grinning for joy as he kisses you deep on the lips. “That’s my bloodthirsty wife!” He mumbles against your lips, forgetting all about his past aggressions to make you feel as safe and as loved as you could be in his arms. The maester that continues to awkwardly stand their waiting to finish wrapping your arm be damned.

Aemond Targaryen:

He finds out before anyone else, as he tends to wait for you after your dragon rides if he’s unable to go with you that day. So when you come back later than usual with blood dripping down your arm and half an arrow sticking out of you, he certainly is very angry, and very much willing to get on Vhagar and hunt down and kill those who dared harm his wife. Yet he knows he must stay calm for you.

He notices how you try and mumble your dragons name under your breath, so when he makes it past one of the dragon keepers he makes sure to let them know that Shrykos may be in need of some healing. He assumes by the way your mumbles quieten after he says the order that that was what you were trying to tell him. Yet when he actually looks at you Aemond quickly realises you’ve actually fainted from blood loss.

Aemond rushes you to the Maesters room where he insists only the best work on you, even though he couldn’t afford to be picky what with you bleeding out in his arms and all. Though after a few threats and lot of claims regarding his dragon, the maesters quickly manage to remove the arrow and stem the bleeding whilst you continued to lay unconscious on the healing bed. Aemond stayed by your side the entire time, holding your hand tightly in an act of reassurance. Even though you were still unconscious.

He stayed with you the entire time though. Still holding your hand even when he fell asleep. When you eventually woke, three days after you were injured, Aemond was sure to reassure you that you were safe. Even though by the tenth time you were very ready to smack him.

“Tell me ābrazȳrys who did this too you. Vhagar has been ready for the taste of flesh since I found you. I am sure Shrykos too is ready for the thrill of the chase of those who harmed both her and her rider. Tell me, so I can make sure we can tear them limb from limb.” His words drip malice, and yet there is distinct comfort within them. Aemond has never truly been able to show his affection towards you with displays of anything other than action. And in this moment, it just so happens that action involves heavy bloodshed and possible carnage.

“Those men who hale from the vale. The ones claiming our traditions to be an abomination. A sin in the eyes of the seven. They surprised me and Shrykos as we flew above the seas and got some good strikes. But don’t worry ñuha jorrāelagon. Me and Shrykos made sure to burn them to blood and ash before we needed to flee back to kingslanding.” You attempt to smile to reassure your husband, but if anything it appears to make it worse as you wince at the pain suddenly flaring through your whole right arm.

Aemond stays quiet as he makes sure to force you to drink some milk of the poppy.

“Ābrazȳrys. If you were to die, I would have gone to the brink of insanity. I would’ve gone to those peoples homes and burned them all to the ground for what they have done to my wife. To the future mother of my children. They have harmed you though. The have scarred you. And for that offence alone, I cannot allow them a single more moments of breath. I cannot allow them to live.” Aemond storms off leaving you laying there in half shock and half admiration. You knew he would be true to his word. Which is why when not even a day had passed since Aemond had left, you’d heard whispers of what Aemond had done, and you smiled and thanked the gods for a husband like yours.

Jacaerys Velaryon:

If there was one characteristic you could say your husband embodied to the fullest, it would be loyalty. As no matter how many other women, maids and nobility alike, threw themselves at the future heirs feet he always ran back to you.

Even when other men such as the Lannister’s attempted to charm you with their admittedly horrible, yet according to them successful attempts, Jace was always there with a watchful eye, making sure all knew who you belonged too.

He was protective too. A dragon while not in appearance but definitely in spirit. Jace would always find a way to make sure you were safest whether you wanted him to be involved or not. Even this noon when you wanted to get one last dragon ride before dinner, Jace still insisted there was no need. Yet your stubbornness knew no bounds it seems, as while his back was turned you made quick speed to where Shrykos usually slept and flew her into the great distance. A mere speck in the sky before Jace knew what had happened.

You had started the flight laughing with the biggest grin on your face, eager to see the sights from the sky. Yet of course things turned worse as men from one of the many religious groups of the seven kingdoms took notice of you and your dragon, and decided to shoot you with their admittedly massive weapons.

You dodged the best you could, and yet with a scream from both you and Shrykos, you realised you were both hit.

“DRACARYS SHRYKOS! DRACARYS!” You screamed, satisfied when you hear the hells and the screams of the men and the ships bellow. With your good arm, you steer Shrykos to the direction of dragonstone and order the instructions, before all appears to go dark.

When you wake, all seems strangely normal. That is of course, before you see the giant bandaged wound that is your arm. You can see a hint of red peeking from the bandages and are about to see if you could rewrap it, before Jacaerys comes through and with wide eyes realises you are awake and well as you can be.

“My love!” He shouts, running over and encasing you in his arms. Not hearing the low hiss you make when his hands clasp around your still admittedly sore arm. “Where have you been!? You’re hurt!” He yells, finally taking noticing your blood that steadily pools to the surface. “Let us get you to the maesters!”

As much as it hurt you to have Jace pull you like he did, you merely let it all happen so not to cause an event bigger fuss of you than what he already is making. Yet when you get to the maesters chambers and nearly find yourself fainting, that’s when you suddenly understand your husbands worry.

When you wake up though, it’s the feeling of Jaces familiar warmth that settles you as you gaze on his sleeping form. Yet as you wake, so does he it seems. As not even a few minutes after you’ve woken Jace is quick to rise with you. His eyes wide and worried as they roam you for anymore possible injuries you may possibly somehow have hidden.

“Are you alright my love?!” He asks, his eyes still roaming for even a moment of weakness from you. “There maesters took care of your arm and the arrow. And I heard word from the dragon keepers who tell me Shrykos is healing dutifully from his wounds!”

“Good.” You simply say, hissing slightly as you sit up and try to keep yourself grounded. “I’d kill then if she wasn’t.”

Jacaerys laughs at your threat, and his face looks almost serene as he just looks at you. His eyes going soft as his hands continue to hold yours. It’d be an almost affectionate moment had it not been for the sudden flare up of pain in your arm.

“Fuck!” You yell, hissing once again as you’re reminded of why you’re even in the maesters room in the first place. “It is alright husband I’m fine!” You insist seeing the worry now marking his face.

“I will worry when I want.” He simply says, kissing you on the top of your head before moving to sit next to you on the bed. His head resting on yours as he puts his arms around you. Your eyes shutting as a sudden hit of exhaustion hits you, yet you welcome it fully as Jaces arms feel just so welcoming and calming.

Alicent Hightower:

Alicent had always been like a mother to you. Caring for you when you were sick and making sure that you were always in your highest possible health. It was probably why she’d insisted since you were young to fully call her mother, even though you were not biologically related to her.

Whenever she heard about even the slightest of injuries though, she always worried relentlessly about the damage. Which is why when you appeared before her clutching a bleeding wound from your shoulder, you’re quite honestly surprised she hadn’t dropped from shock.

“Oh my darling what has happened?!” She’d gasped, frozen in shock as she stood there not knowing what really to do.

“Bastards on their boats took a few shots at me and Shrykos whilst we were on our morn flight. They got two good shots at us to hurt us but don’t worry. Before we got here Shrykos managed to give them what was coming for them…” You groan, holding your shoulder in your hand that has now from the lack of adrenaline, has begun aching dramatically.

“Oh never mind the men I care only about you!” She fusses, coming closer before stopping half way, staring between your shoulder and your pained face. Maybe Alicent will drop from shock after all.

“SOMEBODY GET THE MAESTERS!” You hear a voice yell, before all appears to go dark before your eyes. When you wake though, it is as if the light is blinding you. You blink a few times to ground yourself, and it’s with a sudden surprise you realise that you feel a familiar warmth on your hand. You turn your head slightly, stiff from the lack of movement you think, and realise Alicent is staring at you with great worry on her face.

“Are you feeling alright my darling? The maesters have cleaned and sewed up your wound, but according to them it shall take a while for it to fully heal. You must tell me dear girl, in detail, what happened out there. What did those people do to you?”

“After me and Shrykos took off, we flew to the stormlands. We were drifting round shipbreaker bay, when those men the council warned us over took notice. Crossbows the size of my arm began shooting at us mother, so I am grateful they managed to get me and Shrykos only once.” At the mention of your dragon, your face turns to worry. Yet before you say anything, your mother quickly moves to interrupt you.

“Your dragon is safe my love. The dragon keepers have been keeping me up to date on her healing, and she is steadily heading to full recovery. The arrow has been removed fully, and the wound has stopped bleeding.” She says, her face betraying her as she is unable to hide her distaste of your dragon.

“Thank you mother, I appreciate the consideration. I know you have no love for Shrykos, nor any of your children’s dragons.” You say, your honesty true as you smile in thanks and understanding.

“You’re welcome my heart…” Your mother smiles, her hand reaching out to hold yours. Which while you admittedly want to shy away from, yet you push through your discomfort to allow your mother this moment that you know your adoptive sister would not have allowed.

“I do not want you to fly unaccompanied anymore my heart,” Alicent begins, shushing your with a single movement when she sees you about to harshly protest. “I have discussed this with your brothers and sister, and they have all agreed. Aemond has already taken the duty on his ever eager shoulders, and has said he will ride with you tomorrow morn at your usual time. It may be in your best interest to thank him next time you see him.”

“Of course mother…” You sigh, already dreading Aemonds smug face and wanting to punch it. Yet you withhold yourself from groaning out loud only from your mother’s sake, who is still holding your hand with intended comfort, even though she is doing nothing but make your blood pump fast around your body. Still, you say nothing. Allowing her to believe she is comforting you with a motherly smile on her face.

Daemon Targaryen:

Daemon had always possessed an amusingly short temper. It was especially tested though whenever it regarded to you. Whenever you got yourself hurt as a child, whether than was to do with training or just an accident in the halls, he always demanded to know the man behind your pain. It’s why you weren’t at all surprised when he reacted that same way when you flew back to Dragonstone and stumbled towards him with an arrow stuck in your shoulder blade.

“Who has dared to harm you zaldritzos? Tell me so I can show them what the exact consequence is for messing with a dragon. I am sure caraxes is already fuelled with my anger alone and is ready to face those who dares spill such precious blood.” Daemon snarls, his face unable to hide its anger as he holds your body steady so it won’t suddenly collapse.

“Bastards from the bloody ships on the bloody sea. Got us good… got us good…” You slur, every word feeling forced from your very gut as your eyes grow heavier and heavier.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes zaldritzos! Don’t you fucking close them!” You hear him snarl once more. But still, you cannot resist the temptation of sleep as you disobey your father and close your eyes.

When you find yourself waking, it is Daemon is standing by you while you slept. His eyes hard and stern as they observe you.

“I suppose you’re mad?” You can’t help but say. Your face admittedly ashamed as you stare to the floor, unable to hold his stare.

“Of course I am mad!” He yelled, refusing to allow you to turn your head away as he forces you to make eye contact with him. “My daughter has gone out without telling me, and she has gotten herself hurt the same way soldiers are hurt in wars!”

“I am sorry father!” You say, tears brimming in your eyes as the disappointed and anger shines through his. “I cannot control where those bastard men sail-“

“But you can control where you fly!” Daemon yells back. His voice rough and frustrated as the inner dragon inside him comes out. “I have taught you better than this zaldritzos! I have been teaching you how to ride that dragon of yours since you were a mere child! So why was it you were no doubt flailing about the sky like an amateur, when I know you could have done better?!”

“I’M NOT LIKE YOU!” You shout, shoving your father away as he stares at you with an expressionless face. “I am not a great leader, or a great dragon rider! I am still learning father! My lessons have not yet stopped being taught! Those men on the ships who shot at us were the ones you had warned us about. The ones claiming our great traditions to be an abomination and deserving of punishment. Me and Shrykos did not know their affiliation as we flew above them. Only when the arrows began to fly for our heads did we realise… I got an arrow in the shoulder, which has now since been removed. Shrykos though listened perfectly and managed to get out of there without any particularly damaging wounds. Still, my anger shon through her, and we managed to light the whole of the fleet up in flames before we flew back home. Where of course, you found me…”

Daemon is silent throughout your rant, yet by the end, when you’re breathless with how quickly you spoke, his hand is placed on your non-injured arm in an unfamiliarly comforting manner.

“I know you are not like me zaldritzos. While I have made you in my image, I hardly expected it to be your only outcome. You have become strong. You have become a fearsome warrior able to bring honour to our family name and our ancestors. I suppose… I may have forgotten that I too have made mistakes. I am sorry zaldritzos…”

The tears that had brimmed earlier in your eyes now tear down your face now that you hear your fathers words. His pride. So you do the only thing you can think of at that moment to show your appreciation. You take your arms and place them around Daemons waist, pulling him into a hug where your head is against his chest. Thankfully his arms seem to automatically go around your own body, and you can’t help but find this act comforting and safe.

“Thank you…” You can’t help but murmur.

“I would never let anything hurt you…” He murmurs back. Words which to anyone else may sound meaningless, but to you, you know they hide your father’s true feeling of care.

Rhaenyra Targaryen:

Rhaenyra had always been a sort of mother to you. A light to guide you in the darkest of your days. Whenever you took ill or had an injury, it was always she who stood by your bed, holding your hand in her own. Even though both husbands and loyal guards warned her of her possibly falling ill herself. Not that she ever did somehow though.

It was like that now. That afternoon, you had decided on a whim to take Shrykos on a fight around the coasts bordering the land surrounding Dragonstone. Yet it seems you coincidentally forgot Daemons talk about the rising threat of a religious group following faithfully the followings of the seven, as you tried to fly past them calmly and peacefully. Shrieking in fear when you realise it was not a harmless fly that flew past your face just now, but a very deadly steel-tipped arrow.

You barely made it out of there alive. The only injuries you yourself sustaining being a few arrow nicks on your shoulders, and the worse of it being a shallow puncture from one of the few successful shots. Shrykos though took most of the hits. Her rage seething the more those pathetic men tried to harm both her and her rider. It was quite satisfying you must say, when you flew away with the fresh smell of burning corpses still behind you, lingering on your clothes.

Yet when you got back home and were standing in front of your mother, that satisfaction quickly changed to a strange sort of guilt when you see her horror struck face.

“What has happened my darling!” She tells, taking ahold of your arm to look at your injury while you yell at her to try and say you were fine, even though you wince as soon as she yanks you towards her.

“Bloody men on the coast of Gull Town decided to shoot at us from their fucking boats. They got only a few good shots before Shrykos managed to get to them. By the time we left, we ensured they became fire and ash. I doubt there are any men alive after that….” You say, barely able to stand as the sudden blood loss reaches you.

You’re barely able to think as your mother brings you to the castle hanging on her shoulder. Soon, maesters surround you whilst your mother fusses by your bed to the left of you. She insists and demands certain things, but by the end, your grateful to feel the pain in your arm significantly lessen not only due to the lack of wooden arrow, but also due to the large amount of milk of the poppy that was pretty much forced down your throat.

“Is it all better now my darling?” Your mother asks, putting your hand between her own to soothe you as if you were a small child who’d scuffed their leg falling on some loose gravel.

“It is fine mother!” You insist. Even smiling as you play the part of the healthy child, able to bounce back from any injuries. Yet somehow she can still manage to see through your facade.

“Are you sure?” She asks again. Her brow raised in questioning as she makes you feel like a young child again. Small, and helpless as you cry to mother.

“Yes I am fine!” You firmly say, taking your hand from hers and placing it on the cold clinical bed sheets. Already missing the familial warmth your mother’s hands had provided you with. “I do not need you pressing!”

“Okay my love. I believe you.” Rhaenyra smiles, acknowledging her child’s want for independence. Moving from the chair she previously had sat on so she can place a quick kiss to the top of your head and smile fondly at the way your nose scrunches. “I will leave you now my love. The maesters had said you’ll fully heal by the moons next turn, but you’re fit to leave the bed tomorrow morn. I’ll visit you then.”

As quick as Rhaenyra leaves, you find yourself already wanting her motherly touch to tell you it’s okay. Your legs tucking under your chin as you hold yourself under the covers, letting your eyes shut so hopefully you’re able to wake up tomorrow by your mother’s voice.

Helaena Targaryen:

Compared to all your other family members, it has always been Helaena you were closest too. A close bond forging between the two of you since girlhood that not once has ever been broken.

You were with her when she claimed Dreamfyre, just as she was there for you when you claimed Shrykos. You also made sure to try and be with her whenever she experienced one of her, moments.

Yet that morning, you were way too busy trying to get ready for your usual morn flight to be with her when she took what the queen would call, a funny turn.

‘Blood of the dragon lost twice over. Beware the boats from bellow filled with men of hate.’

She’d seen your injury and the fire coming from your dragons mouth, and being the anxious person she was, she waited at the dragon keeps entrance with her hands fiddling with each other.

When you fly in holding your arm to try and stem the blood, getting off with difficultly as you try and not fall, you almost scare yourself when you turn and suddenly find yourself face to face with Helaena, who holds a bandage ready to treat you with it.

“Give me your arm…” She softly asks, waiting for you to release your arm from your grip so she can slowly and carefully take the arrow from your arm, choosing to ignore your vocal cries of pain so she can make sure to get the arrow out. When she does, she chooses to just drop the bloody wooden chunk to the floor so she can quickly wrap your now gushing wound, which she cleans with a slightly damp clothe that can’t have been out of the water bowl for long.

“What happened?” She asked while she cleaned your red streaked arm.

“Do you remember those men Aemond warned us about? The ones who hate us for our heritage?” You ask, waiting to hear Helaena unique hum to show she’s truly listening. “Well when I was flying by Tarth, those men were in there boats and obviously spotted me before I spotted them. So they shot at me till they hit me.” You shrug, regretting it soon as you did as you hiss at the sudden flare up of pain.

“It’ll hurt badly. I didn’t manage to take any milk of the poppy from the maesters, so we’ll probably need to visit them soon.” Helaena simply says, giving you a smile before she takes your hand in her own. An act you cannot say in words how much it means to you, given how you know of her usual revulsion for physical touch.

So you stay silent. Allowing her to lead you to the maesters with a small smile on your face, that is wiped right off when you become face to face with them. They stare at your with judgement and soulless eyes as they remove you from Helaenas comforting warmth and instead force you to feel cold metal against your flesh. They ignore you as they unwrap the bandages. Only giving each other looks as they wordlessly judge the state of your body.

It almost makes you want to tear their heads from their bodies and feed them to Shrykos. Who no doubt is feeling your frustrations and anger down in the dragon pit.

Yet you hold your tongue for Helaenas sake, who is watching the maesters take supposed special care of you from the corner of the room. She gives you small smiles whenever you make eye contact, and it’s only with them you manage to pull through. The milk of the puppy though they force down your throat certainly makes you more cooperative though you must say.

“Thank you Hel, for looking after me.” You say, staring at her as soon as the maesters deemed you healed enough and left you. No doing to go get the queen to inform her of your sudden injury.

“It is no problem…” She softly smiles back, moving forward to stand next to you so she can hold your hand in her own. Her soft flesh relaxing you possibly even more than the drugs flowing through your system. “I will always be there for you…”

Laenor Valeryon:

Even though you always knew that Laenor could never truly be your father, he nonetheless always managed to act like one better than anyone. While your mother was busy attending to your brothers, it was Laenor who was always busy attending to you, making sure you were fussed in a way a princess should be fussed.

He always made sure to give you the bestest care a princess may need it. Like right now for instance.

“I NEED A MAESTER RIGHT FUCKING NOW!” You remember your father screaming while your vision slowly began to blur in a variety of difference places. “Where are you hurt ñuha nūmio? Where is the pain? What can I do?”

“Arrow in the fucking shoulder.” You groan, bile building in your throat as you resist the urge to vomit. “Only there father. Shrykos was hit too. Fuck it hurts so much…”

“Do not worry dear girl! The maester will come!” As he says this, guards come running with a maester in tow. The guards take ahold of you carefully as you nearly collapse under the sudden blood rush. The maester barking orders for what to do to you to cause the least amount of damage to your body as possible.

When you get to the healing room, you’re placed roughly onto a bed where now a whole group of maesters now flock to you like a group of crows over a fresh carcass. They all say a different method on how to treat you, yet it’s Laenor whose voice shines louder than them all.

“You will not cut up or harm my daughter!” He yells, his voice firm and harsh as he glares at them all. “You will take out that fucking arrow, and you will heal her. Or I swear, as the heir of the realms husband, I’ll make all of you fucking regret it!”

All is silent, and yet with a firm glare they all scatter to complete your father’s order. Soon, cloth is finding its way in your mouth to quench your screams as hands force the arrow once imbedded in your arm is forced onto a silver plate. Blood gushing down your arm in an admittedly disturbing manner.

By the end, there is an elder looking maester stitching up your blood coated arm, and an arrow head and some wood pieces. Laenor held your hand with every scream and every clench of your body. He made sure you felt as safe as you could in the presence of the same type of men who killed your aunt. He also made sure to quickly push them out as soon as they were done with there work. Nodding along in a dismissive manner as they insist they are still needed.

When they are eventually shushed away however, with the door shut quickly behind them, Laenor quickly finds himself by your side again. His hand laced firmly in yours as he takes a lone damp cloth so he can clean away the dried blood still decorating your wounded flesh.

“Does it hurt much? I can always call a maid to fetch you some milk of the poppy?” Laenor insisted, his touch delicate as he makes sure not to harm you in any way.

“It merely stings…” You shrug, wincing though soon as you do due to the sudden flare up in your shoulder. “I do not need any milk of the poppy father. I can manage my pain.”

“I can see that…” He grins, even chuckling when he sees your own smile. “Though, I must ask. What happened? You did not exactly give me much information before the maesters came for us.”

“Me and Shrykos began our normal journey to the direction of Runestone. But on the coast of Gull town, it appears those men mother had recently warned us about, the ones who deem our customs immoral and a disgrace to a seven, spotted us before we spotted them. They took no time before they were shooting at us with giant crossbows on their ship. They took us by surprise, and managed to get only a single time, but that was enough to enact Shrykos’ rage. I didn’t even say the command father! Shrykos enacted our joined rage and set fire to their ships and their bodies. If they weren’t dead by the time we left, I am almost sure they are all at least dead by now.”

He takes in your words carefully. Murmuring small words every so often while he holds your hand as a sigh of sympathy. When your done though, his face is smeared in deep anger. A hatred you have never seen your father show ever before in your lifetime.

“Well it’s a good think they are dead though,” He finally says, snapping from his thoughts with a huff. “Because if they were alive, Seasmoke would be gorging on a feast right now!”

“Thank you father…” You simply say, falling into his arms that welcome you immediately. You close your eyes and allow yourself to bask in his familiar comforting warmth.

[phillydilly]

We made it

⊹♡— in which she falls in love with the boy she grew up with, and they realise that the highs and lows of life hadn’t stopped them from succeeding

Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of j*s Verstappen, mentions of substance abuse

When I was six years old, life led me on an unexpected adventure, a journey that would intertwine my fate with Max's in the most remarkable way. It all began on a sweltering summer afternoon as I aimlessly wandered the sun-soaked streets of our tough neighborhood. The air hung heavy with the scents of asphalt and distant hopes. My parents were both ensnared by the cruel clutches of addiction, leaving me to navigate the challenges of life on my own, like a small boat adrift in a stormy sea.

On that particular day, a strange serendipity drew me away from my usual aimless wanderings. The distant sound of a kart engine reached my ears like a siren's call, beckoning me toward the source of its excitement.

Curiosity piqued, I followed the melodic hum until I stumbled upon a makeshift karting track hidden within a forsaken corner of our neighborhood. There, in the hazy afternoon light, I found a young boy, no older than me, toiling away in solitude, his small frame dwarfed by the task at hand. He was Max, his eyes heavy with a sadness that belied his tender age.

As I approached, Max looked up, his eyes meeting mine with a mix of surprise and weariness. "Hi," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken stories. "I'm Max. Do you want to race me in my go-kart?"

It was an invitation, a small glimmer of hope that hung in the air. But beneath the surface, I could sense a darkness, a heaviness that Max carried within him. It wasn't long before he began to open up to me, sharing the painful truth of what had transpired earlier that day.

Max had been part of a race, one filled with the adrenaline of competition and the dreams of victory. Yet, the story took a darker turn. He had lost that race, and the consequences of that defeat were more profound than I could have ever imagined. Max's abusive father, consumed by anger at his son's perceived failure, had abandoned him at the track, leaving young Max alone with the daunting task of cleaning up and packing away the remnants of their racing dreams.

In that moment, as I listened to Max's story, my heart ached with empathy and a sense of shared vulnerability. I couldn't bear the thought of Max having to endure this ordeal alone, left to grapple with the shadows of his own past. Without hesitation, I offered to help him.

Together, we folded up the discarded tires, picked up the strewn bits of trash, and neatly stowed away the racing karts. It was during this collaborative effort that our friendship began to take root, as we shared stories of our troubled pasts, found moments of laughter amidst the chaos, and whispered our dreams of becoming Formula One drivers under the setting sun.

As the golden orb dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows that stretched toward us, Max and I walked back home together. The bond that had formed during our shared experience grew stronger with each step. We might have come from the darkest corners of our neighborhood, facing adversity that seemed insurmountable, but in each other, we had found the greatest treasure—a friend who would stand by us through thick and thin.

The years rolled on, bringing with them the trials and tribulations of adolescence. Max and I continued to nurture our friendship, our shared passion for racing, and our unwavering support for one another. We became each other's pillars of strength in a world that often seemed unforgiving.

At the age of 14, we faced another turning point. Max's unwavering dedication to racing clashed with the realization that my passion for it was waning. I felt like I was holding him back, and the weight of guilt began to bear down on me.

"I don't think I want to race anymore," I finally confided in Max one day. "I think it's time for me to find something else.”

Max looked at me, his face serious but kind. "You don't have to do something just because I love it. We're best friends, and I want you to be happy."

His words offered solace, but I still grappled with the fear of losing him and the uncertainty of what lay ahead for our friendship.

High school came and went, and our bond persisted, though not without its changes. There was a subtle tension between us that hadn't existed before. I was nervous around Max, unsure of how to act.

One day, as we sat on my front porch, discussing our plans after graduation, Max turned to me, his eyes intense with emotions he could no longer contain.

"I don't want to lose you," he said, his voice trembling with vulnerability. "But I can't keep pretending anymore. I'm in love with you."

I was stunned, my mind racing as I processed his confession. I had never thought of Max in that way, but as he spoke, I realized that my feelings were more complex than I had ever imagined.

"I love you too," I said, my own voice quivering. "But if we try this and it doesn't work, I don't want it to ruin our friendship."

Max reached for my hand, the touch of his fingers reassuring. "We've been through a lot together," he said, his gaze unwavering. "We can handle anything."

With that, we embarked on a new chapter, our friendship evolving into a romantic relationship. The weight of unspoken emotions lifted, allowing us to be our true selves around each other, without the fear of losing the connection we had nurtured for so long.

As the years rolled by, we navigated the ups and downs of life together. Max faced challenges in his racing career, but I was always there to support him, just as he had been there for me. We both graduated from college, securing jobs in our respective fields, all the while never letting go of the love that had blossomed between us.

Now, at the age of 24, we sat side by side in the grandstands, our eyes fixed on the racing track. Max had made it to his first F1 championship race, a moment we had both dreamt of since we were kids. The tension in the air was palpable, the excitement electric.

And then, it happened—Max emerged victorious, clutching the coveted trophy. Tears of joy welled up in my eyes as I watched him celebrate his hard-earned triumph.

"I couldn't have done this without you," Max said, his arm wrapped around me, his voice filled with gratitude.

"I'm so proud of you," I replied, pressing a kiss to his cheek, my heart swelling with pride.

As we watched the other drivers celebrate on the track below, Max turned to me, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion that words could hardly capture.

"You know," he began, his voice soft but resolute, "I never would have made it this far without you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

I smiled, the gratitude and love I felt for Max filling every corner of my heart. Our journey had been a tumultuous one, shaped by the challenges we had faced and the unbreakable bond that had carried us through. From a chance encounter on a karting track to the heights of an F1 championship, we had weathered every storm together. Max Verstappen had not only become a champion on the track but a champion of my heart, and I couldn't imagine a life without him by my side.

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity

chapter fifteen

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): allusions to death and cannonical violence, angst

series masterlist; previous part; next part

Draco is confined to the Hospital Wing for three whole weeks.

He was in and out of restless sleep for the first week, comatose in the second and fighting off the fog of pain reducing potions in the third.

Harry has detention with Snape, polishing endlessly dirty cauldrons, until the end of the year, which you and all of Slytherin house think should've been a far harsher punishment, but at least he's not gotten away with attempted murder.

You had visited Draco diligently almost every day during your free periods, alongside Pansy and Blaise, keeping him up to date on typical Hogwarts gossip and bringing him notes for classes that he needed (and avoiding the topic of quidditch because the thought of the matches he'd missed had put him in the most foul mood). He'd asked about the other trio that made up your group when they weren't with you, but there wasn't much you or Pansy could say.

It's like you've gone back to square one with him all over again.

Ever since the duel in the second floor bathroom, Mattheo has been avoiding you like the plague and you have no idea why.

But it's not just Mattheo; Lorenzo and even Theodore have not uttered so much as a hello to you; if Draco wasn't hospitalised you were certain he'd be giving you the same treatment. And it seems that Pansy is being offered the same sentiment, too, which can't mean anything good.

The two of you had been thrust together in solitary, abandoned by your friends, who would whisper conspiratorially with eachother when you were not there, and would completely change the subject when one of them spotted you or Pansy heading their way.

It was downright infuriating.

He could see it written all over your face, but he couldn't risk either of you knowing what they were doing. Blaise was an unfortunate exception; Mattheo tried to get him to leave it be, but his best friend was relentless, and would not stop pestering all four boys until he took it upon himself to follow them when they were none the wiser all the way back in September when the task had officially commenced.

The Vanishing Cabinet was almost repaired.

They were one step closer to completing Draco's seemingly impossible task. But, of course, Mattheo's father didn't think they were doing it fast enough, and he did not care that Draco's hospitalisation took priority over a stupid wardrobe. He would force his son's hand if he had to.

So the boys had spent the better part of a week locked away in the Room of Requirement. They hardly went to lessons, and when they did, it was only to keep up appearances to cause less suspicion among the staff (especially those that they suspected were high up in the Order's chain of command) and their peers.

He knows you're angry about his avoidance, but Mattheo cannot bring himself to involve you; to put you in anymore danger. Your display of power was enough to engage his overprotective side, and he knows that if he was able to figure you out before he even considered a civil friendship with you all those months ago, that his father would have you figured out in half the time. He already suspected that the Order knew about you, if Dumbledore knew, which already put you on Voldemort's radar, even if his father didn't know the siphon's true identity. He only knew that there was one in existence.

Mattheo only hopes that his father is too focused on his vendetta against the Headmaster to figure it out.

It's becoming increasingly more difficult to lie to you. Even the Unbreakable Vow he's forced to adhere to doesn't seem powerful enough anymore. You know about Horcruxes, he knows that for certain. Which puts you in danger, no matter if you know where the objects are or not. When he saw the memory of you holding the ring without knowing just what was in your hands...

...Mattheo had to keep you far away from that burden for as long as possible and he hated that Dumbledore had knowingly given you such a cursed object without a thought or qualm of the consequences.

Now, alongside Theo and Enzo, Mattheo is staring resolutely at the deep brown wooden door of the Vanishing Cabinet on a random Friday afternoon. The spell that they'd discovered had worked thus far; there were only so many more incantations needed for it to catalyse the spellbinding properties of the complex magic that was weaved into the wood centuries ago.

The boys were putting off the inevitable for as long as possible. But as Blaise arrived, with a freshly healed Draco in tow, they knew that it was time to do the inevitable.

"Harmonia Nectere Passus." Draco repeated the spell for the nth time and allowed Enzo to let the bird, whose wings were flapping wildly in his tentative hold, into the deep abyss.

They waited.

And waited.

And waited some more until Mattheo slowly reached for the handle, brows furrowed in apprehension when he felt the palpable pull of the wardrobe's magic, and opening it with a soft creak. The bird flew out and rose towards the ceiling of the Room of Requirement, disappearing from their sight and into the rafters in the ceiling.

The five of them stood silently for some time after that, each coming to their own grim realisations.

They had done it.

Finally after months of trial and error; after months of physical and mental torture, they had fixed the unfixable.

But at what cost?

Their left arms burned in earnest as Voldemort rallied his forces to prepare for infiltration. Blaise looked at his friends in solemn understanding. Horror swept through them like a wave in the sea.

What had they just done?

~∞~

He watched you from the shadows of the viaduct for some time before he decided to approach you.

You were sat in the courtyard, accompanied by Pansy, Ginny, Hermione, Luna and Neville (an odd bunch – your little group had garnered some whispers from passers by, and sneers too but none of you cared to pay them any mind).

He admired your beauty. The way your features brightened inexplicably as you laughed with your friends; how your eyes softened as a smile stretched across your flushed face; how the sun framed you like a halo would an angel. He hated that he would be the one to burst that bubble of indescribable happiness.

As he made his way towards you from the shadows, approaching you for the first time in a week, his chest tightened as your features hardened when you noticed him. He knew he deserved it. But it didn't mean it didn't hurt any less.

"What do you want, Riddle?" the way Pansy spits his surname pains him just as much as your furrowed expression. He knows without a doubt, that the boys' actions had hurt her just as inherently as they had hurt you, if not more. But she would come to understand, eventually, that it was done for her protection.

"I need to talk to you." He says slowly. "To all of you."

This has their attention. And you watch as he brushes a hand through unruly curls, the sunlight highlighting deep, dark eyebags, as if he hadn't slept all week.

"About what?" Ginny demands, sitting up straighter from where she was lounging lazily next to Luna, whose head is tilted inquisitively. You still haven't shown him much of a reaction, and your mental walls were built up high and solid. Hermione looked skeptical, and Neville only looked confused and scared.

"You need to get in contact with the Order." he begins and he watches as you share a look of concern with Hermione.

"Why?" Hermione asks him and he casts his eyes to her chocolate ones, a grimace overtaking his face.

"Because there's going to be an attack on Hogwarts. Tonight." His statement sets off a chain of events.

Neville is a blubbering mess of nerves and fear as he rushes to stand. Luna has a contemplative look on her face; seemingly calm in the aftermath of Mattheo's words. Hermione looks terrified, but her face cools with a mask of indifference as if she herself is preparing for battle. Ginny looks up at him, a determined glint in her eyes as she rises to her feet, pulling you all up with her. Pansy looks horrified, her hands twisting together frantically as your own hands fight to calm them. And you...

Gods he wants someone to paint the look on your face onto a canvas; to cement it into existence forever.

Your brows are furrowed, creating a divet in the space between them and your lips are pulled into a frown that casts a melancholic sadness across your warm features. You're staring up at him with big, questioning eyes and all he wants to do is grab you and take you far, far away from everything; drag you to another continent so that he knows for certain that you'll be safe.

"How do you know there's going to be an attack?" you ask and he wants to desperately put off the inevitable, but he sees it in your eyes, and in your eddying thoughts (as well as Pansy's) – you already knew what he was about to admit, even if it killed him in the process.

"Draco had a task-" the Dark Mark burns angrily against the skin of his forearm and Mattheo grimaces and his heart skips a beat when you move towards him, shaking off Neville's wary hand. "-It was meant to have been completed three weeks ago-"

But he ended up having a brutal near death experience.

Is what he was trying to say, but the Mark was causing him agony, tearing at the very seams of his brain as he tried to make sense of the words appearing in his mind. But he couldn't string them together.

The feeling is gone as soon as your hands are gracing his skin, which is hot to the touch.

You watched as his face scrunched in pain and your heart physically hurts for him. You wanted his misery to end. So you used your ability and siphoned away some of the magic that was binding itself aggressively to Mattheo's very being, letting the veins of dark magic coarse through your's and settle restlessly into the conduit around your neck, casting your indigo core in dark shadows of obsidian.

It burned like hell, but watching his face return to it's relaxed state, was worth it.

"Why did you do that?" he asks you incredulously, staring down at you with wide onyx eyes.

"You were in pain." you say breathlessly. "I don't like seeing you in pain."

He brings his forehead to rest against your's. It's the first point of contact you've both had all week and you all but melt into him.

"I'm trying to explain myself to you," he mumbles. "But this damned thing has a chokehold on my very core."

He's glaring hatefully toward his left arm and you hear the way your friends take a collective inhale of breath. You grasp it gently, running sooting lines up and down his forearm with a soft caress of your fingers that has his tensed shoulders relaxing imperceptibly.

"You don't have to explain yourself, if it means you may end up killing yourself in the process, Théo." you reply, ignoring the eyes that are on you, feeling like you're the only people stood in the viaduct courtyard. "No one wants that. I don't want that."

Ginny clears her throat, knocking you from the haze of staring into his captivating eyes. She's looking at Mattheo with a little more determination than before. He shifts on his feet, hand reaching for your's, which you take without question, letting him hold you in some way, for comfort.

"Does the Order still have people guarding the outskirts of the castle grounds and the town's streets?" He asks Hermione who nods slowly, confused on how he knows this information. "There are spies everywhere, Granger don't act so surprised."

His words resonate with all of you, but you don't have time to ponder it as Mattheo continues.

"Find them and tell them, now. There's not enough time to waste." he says, voice strong and commanding. "And where's Professor Dumbledore? He needs to stay away from the Astronomy Tower."

"Why?" Ginny asks but it's not Mattheo that answers her question.

"They're going to kill him, aren't they?" Pansy's voice is no louder than a whisper, and the way Mattheo flinches is an answer in itself.

Hermione is frozen. Eyes wide in horror.

"He's not here." She says, voice low. "He took Harry to search for a- for a horcrux. They won't return until well past curfew."

Your mouth gapes in realisation.

"The only point in the castle that Dumbledore can apparate to and from is the-"

"Astronomy Tower." Mattheo says with you and you turn to eachother with identical looks of dread on your faces.

"Go to the Order. Tell them to get reinforcements."

It's the last thing he says before he drags Pansy away, probably towards the Slytherin common room where the others are, leaving you with your friends in a state of pure distress.

You run to the nearest Order member you know of immediately and Professor McGonnagall is just as shocked as you all are.

Reinforcements are called upon immediately and by eight o'clock, just before curfew, the corridors are swarming with Order members.

~∞~

The Dark Mark streaked vibrantly green across the night sky like an ominous painting. It had appeared only moments ago. When Bellatrix Lestrange and a group of more than a dozen Death Eaters had infiltrated the school's usually impenetrable defences. Calamitous and imposing with the snake moving silkily into the mouth of the giant skull, Dumbledore's Army and Order members were fighting tooth and nail to eliminate the hoards of Death Eaters that had managed to get past the wards.

Meanwhile up in the Astronomy tower, protected against Order members with their own wards, Mattheo stood shrouded in shadows, alongside Draco, Theo and Enzo as they watched the swirls of green mist form a cloud of animosity in the vast, open room. They stood in typical Death Eater masks, to conceal their faces, all but Draco who stood with his head held high, right hand clenching his wand harshly, to prevent it from trembling like a leaf.

Professor Dumbledore and Harry Potter landed with uncoordinated grace only moments after Bellatrix had cast the Mark. The former looked haggard and ill – as if he could topple over with a gust of wind at any second.

This will make Draco's task easier. Theo said wordlessly as they observed the way the Headmaster clutched at his chest with his decaying hand.

Mattheo agreed without so much as moving a muscle. Body tense as he tried to imagine you safe in your dorm room, away from the chaos that was no doubt about to ensue. But he knew you better than that.

He knew you were in the fray, fighting for the right cause. Fighting for your life, and your friend's lives. He could hear the distant sound of spells clashing against eachother; walls crumbling; people screaming out for help. He only hopes one of those screams is not your own.

He locks away the thoughts. He cannot be distracted right now. Not when the deed was about to be done.

"Go and wake Severus. Tell him what has happening and bring him to me. Do noth- nothing else. Speak to nobody and do not remove your cloak. I shall wait here." Dumbledore says faintly to Potter, who slowly slips the infamous Invisibility Cloak over his head, but before he can conceal himself fully, Draco's arm begins to burn, as does Mattheo's.

It's time.

The floor creaks as Draco moves to step around the corner of the room where he sees a ripple of movement by the door, but no body. Harry had already disappeared under the cloak, seemingly unmoving, as if he was paralysed.

He errupted around the corner in seconds, shouting "Expelliarmus!" and had disarmed his Headmaster with surprising ease, though he does well not to show the emotions cross his face. The Elderwand, that was previously gripped snuggly in Dumbledore's dueling hand, flies in an arc-like shape onto the floor, rolling under a group of orreries in the far corner of the Astronomy Tower.

Professor Dumbledore was, for the first time in his over one hundred years of life, deathly weak and utterly defenceless. Despite this, he did not look panicked or distressed. He only greeted Draco with a cold smile of recognition.

"Hello Draco. Pleasant evening, isn't it?"

Draco stepped into the foreboding green light, reflecting off of the countless metal contraptions surrounding them. His eyes darted across the clearing, from where Dumbledore stood, to where Potter's now invisible body lay.

Mattheo, Theo, Enzo and Draco knew he was there. But the others did not, probably expecting him to be fighting alongside the Order. Most were fighting below, others were waiting for a signal of their own. But Bellatrix wanted to watch her nephew complete his task. She had appeared silently beside Mattheo and had spotted a veil of magic that wasn't supposed to be there.

She looks suspicious. Make it look convincing. Draco heard Mattheo's warning and so the acting began.

"Who else is here?" he demanded, face void of any telling emotion. Dumbledore only smiled knowingly.

"I might ask you the same. Or are you acting alone?"

Draco's stoney eyes fell on Dumbledore's weakened figure.

"There are Death Eaters roaming your school grounds. We let them in right under your nose and you didn't have the slightest idea." Draco sneered, lifting his wand higher in anticipation.

"Ingenious." Dumbledore replied, and Mattheo could sense a shift in his demeanor. "I wonder...where are they now? You seem quite....unsupported."

"They're a little preoccupied with your precious Order. Fighting below. They won't be long, but I have a job to do." Draco responds icily, wand hand twitching. Mattheo knew then that Draco wouldn't make the killing blow.

"Well then, might I suggest you get on and do it," Dumbledore says, his voice growing softer as he smiled. "You are not a killer Draco Malfoy. Am I to believe that your friend would try to help if she knew what you were about to do."

"I've made peace with that possibility, sir." Draco says, though regret shines in his light grey eyes. It shines in all their eyes at the thought of what you will say in the wake of their ultimate betrayal.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of. The things I've done!" Draco continues, his voice surging with growing confidence.

"I do." Dumbledore says slowly. "I know you and your friends almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley in your desperate attempts to kill me all year. I can't help but notice that they have been feeble at best. Forgive me, my boy, but I wonder whether your heart has really been in it–"

"It has been in it!" Draco retorts vehemently, as if Voldemort was listening from around a corner. "We've been working on it all year and-"

There's a loud and muffled yell somewhere in the corridors below them and Mattheo stiffens at the thought of it being you.

He'd only seen you once in passing, fighting against Dolohov with one of the Weasley offspring. You didn't recognise him while he was in his Death Eater robes, You were fighting strong and fast against the older man, who barely stood a chance against all your unleashed power.

"Somebody is putting up a good fight." Dumbledore says, voice filling the tension that permeates the air.

"You managed to introduce Death Eaters into my school which I'll admit, I thought was impossible. How did you do it?" He sounds intrigued rather than nervous or frightened. Mattheo tenses more. Ignoring Bellatrix's presence as she too observes, clearly fighting the urge to intervene and kill Albus Dumbledore herself.

Draco did not respond. His focus was on the battle happening beneath them.

"Perhaps you ought to continue with the job alone, although I am curious to know where your friends are." Dumbledore's words prompt Voldemort's right hand woman to forcefully shove Mattheo from the shadows.

He stumbles unexpectedly, but rights himself as his gaze settles on his Headmaster. He removes the mask and runs a hand through his unruly curls.

"Ah Mr Riddle." he greets with cool eyes of steel as if he wasn't a lamb sent to the wolves. "I have to say, I'm surprised it's not you stood in Mr Malfoy's position."

"My father wanted to punish his father. Thought it was fitting that Draco did his dirty work for him." Mattheo says, voice low and deep as he stares into irises of silver. Dumbledore cocks his head as Mattheo opens up his mind to the Headmaster as he speaks out loud to fill the otherwise empty silence.

I warned the Order before the Death Eaters got here. They were prepared.

Perhaps Miss Meadow was right about you after all. Dumbledore's response holds an ounce of regret that does not translate to his face. Do not let your father know of her abilities. We both know what he will do with her if he does.

With my life, Sir. He will never know that she is the one with the power to summon from the elements.

She doesn't know the full extent of her abilities does she?

We've barely scratched the surface, Sir.

With the most imperceptible of nods from his Headmaster, Mattheo comes to stand beside his best friend, face stoic, yet expressionless, resembling his father's old face as if they were identical twins.

"What if your back-up has been thwarted by my guard? The Order are efficient at what they can do."

Malfoy merely stared at him. He did not know of the passing conversation that had just occurred between the other two men.

"I see," said Dumbledore kindly, when Draco neither moved nor spoke. "You are afraid to act until you have an audience."

"I'm not afraid!" Draco snarled, though he still made no move to hurt

Dumbledore, who stood defencelessly before the two of them. "It's you who should be scared!"

Mattheo's bones were practically vibrating with anticipation. Draco needed to stop stalling.

"But why? I don't think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe. So tell me, while we wait for the rest of your friends. How did you smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a long time to work out how to do it."

Draco looked as though he was fighting down the urge to shout, or to vomit. He gulped and took several deep breaths, glaring at Dumbledore, his wand pointing directly at the latter's heart.

It's Mattheo who responds this time, giving Draco the time he needed to compartmentalise his emotions. "We had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that hasn't been used in years. The wardrobe that Graham Montague got lost in last year."

It takes effort for all of them to hold back their snickers as they vividly remember when Montague had emerged almost two months later.

Dumbledore makes a sound of acknowledgment that was more of a painful groan than a sigh. He closed his eyes for a moment.

"That was clever. There is a pair, I take it?"

"The other's in Borgin and Burkes," Mattheo continues, voice raspy and slow as he explains, reminding Dumbledore even more of who the boy's father is.

"They make a kind of passage between them. Montague told us that when he was stuck in the Hogwarts one, he was trapped in limbo but sometimes he could hear what was going on at school, and sometimes what was going on in the shop, as if the wardrobe was travelling between them, but he couldn't make anyone hear him. In the end he managed to Apparate out, even though he'd never actually passed his test. He nearly died doing it. Everyone else thought it was a really good story, but we – Theo, Draco, Enzo and I figured out that there could be a way into Hogwarts through the Cabinets if we fixed the broken one. My father thought it was....ingenious."

"Very good," murmured Dumbledore. "So the Death Eaters were able to pass from Borgin and Burkes into the school to help you. A clever plan, a very clever plan. And, as you say, right under my nose..."

"Yeah," Draco says, quite recovered from his momentary stupor and bizarrely, seemed to draw courage and comfort from Dumbledore's praise. "Yeah, it was!"

"But there were times, weren't there?" Dumbledore went on, "When you were not sure you would succeed in mending the Cabinet? And you resorted to crude and badly judged measures such as sending me a cursed necklace that was bound to reach the wrong hands–"

Draco flinched.

"–Poisoning mead that there was only the slightest chance I might drink–"

Mattheo grimaced only slightly. He imagined that Theo and Enzo had similar flinching responses, too.

"Yeah, well, you still didn't realise who was behind that stuff, did you?" Draco sneered, as Dumbledore slid a little down the ramparts, the strength in his legs apparently fading.

"As a matter of fact, I did," He said. "I was quite certain it was you."

"Why didn't you stop me, then?" Draco demanded and Mattheo couldn't help but wonder, himself.

"I tried, Draco. Professor Snape has been keeping watch over you on my orders–"

Everyone in that room froze at his words. A pin drop could be heard for miles at the noxious silence that followed that statement.

"No that's not right. He hasn't been following your orders, he promised my mother–"

"Of course that is what he would tell you, Draco, but–"

"He's a double agent, you stupid old man, he isn't working for you, you just think he is!" Draco shouts over the dying man.

"We must agree to differ on that, Draco. It so happens that I trust Professor Snape–"

"Well, you're losing your grip, then!" Draco sneers again, ignoring Mattheo's careful hand that rests on his friends shoulder in warning. "He's been offering me plenty of help, wanting all the glory for himself, wanting a bit of the action–"

Mattheo drowns out Draco's depressing monologue in favour of observing the way Dumbledore grew weaker with every passing second. They didn't have long. They needed to get this done.

"How long was Rosmerta under the Imperius Curse, Mr Riddle?" Dumbledore's question brings him back to the present.

"All year." He responds lowly, shamefully. Admitting it felt like being pelted by thousands of tiny shards of glass, but he knew that was the guilt.

"So poor Rosmerta was forced to lurk amongst her own bathroom stalls and pass the cursed necklace to any student who entered unaccompanied?" Dumbledore sounds intrigued, disgusted and weirdly amused as he lists off his suspicions. "And of course she poisoned the mead before she sent the bottle to Slughorn, perhaps believing it to be my Christmas present, despite it being so late into the new year. Very insidious. Of course Mr Filch would not think to check something addressed from her. Tell me how you were communicating with her. I believed we had monitored all forms of communication in and out of the school."

"Enchanted coins." Draco replied, his wand hand was trembling badly now. "I had one and she had the other-"

"Like the secret method Dumbledore's Army used to communicate last year? Did Miss Meadow give you that idea?"

"Leave her name out of your mouth." Mattheo hissed, teeth gritted together in a rage. He could practically smell Bellatrix's curiousity. He wondered how she'd managed to stay so still and quiet for all this time. He had almost forgotten that she was there, had he not felt the daunting barbed walls of her mental shield.

"I got the idea from Granger, actually. I overhear her talking about all sorts in the library." Draco says, sharing a fleeing glance with Mattheo, who once again drowned out the sound of their voices, in favour of trying to reach you.

Meadow? Nothing.

Answer me! No response. Your mind was as hard as a stonewalled fortress against his desperation.

There was a bang and a collection shouts from below, louder than ever; it sounded as though people were fighting on the actual spiral staircase that led to where they were stood.

Wordlessly he tells Draco, Enzo and Theo to be ready to sink into the shadows and leave at any given moment. Their silent aggreement has his tense shoulders slacking only for mere moments.

"There is little time, one way or another," said Dumbledore. "So let us discuss your options, Draco."

"My options!" Draco said loudly. "I'm standing here with a wand – I'm about to kill you–"

"My dear boy, let us have no more pretence about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first Disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means."

"I haven't got any options!" he yelled and he was suddenly as white as Dumbledore. "I have no choice! I have to kill you. Or he's going to kill me and my family."

"I appreciate the difficulty of your precarious situation." Dumbledore responded "Why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Because I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realised that I suspected you."

They all winced at the sound of the name. Except Mattheo. His onyx eyes only hardened.

"I did not dare speak to you of the mission with which I knew you had been entrusted, in case he used Legilimency against you, but I suppose with the help of his son you would have been fine," Dumbledore continued, casting a singular look at Mattheo. "But now at last we can speak plainly to each other...no harm has been done, you have hurt nobody, though you are very lucky that your unintentional victims survived. I can help you, Draco."

"Where was that offer when Meadow came to you?" he snapped, wand hand raised and shaking. Mattheo's eyes shut briefly. Your name was bound to be brought up in the next meeting at this point.

Dumbledore said nothing in response to that and Mattheo practically growled his discontent. But before anyone could utter another word, a dozen sets of footsteps thundered up the spiral staircase and Bellatrix Lestrange had finally, finally stepped out from the shadows, a menacing smirk stretching across her gaunt face as Severus Snape stood ominously beside her, wand poised and ready to strike.

~∞~

hiiii!! it's been a while (like two weeks??) since i updated serendipity

this is part one of the astronomy battle scene from the book – the next part (chapter 16) should be out within the next week since i have uni work to complete 😒 but i hope you enjoyed this one xxx

also unrelated to this post, i saw niall horan last night and it felt like a fever dream?? take me back right now.

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj @nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette @prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl @rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost @weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @benwadsworthsgf @rainy-darling @faeriepigeons @lovely-blackinnon @hiireadstuff @gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome @nopedefe @spencerreidsthings @navs-bhat @agent-tempest @magimtz23 @y0urm0m12 @sbrn0905 @leona-hawthorne @whatsupb18 @moni-cah @taylorann2013 @unstablereader @gisellesprettylies @nat1221

[agentstarkid]

SERENDIPITY ✦ DR3

“Serendipity is an unexpected and very lucky finding, that is, a coincidence that fills us with happiness. Serendipity in love implies the feeling that the universe conspires in our favor, bringing that special person into our lives at the right time and oh boy, did the universe send her everything she ever needed in the form of a 5'10" man with a built-in accent, a love for Tim Tams, adrenaline-fueled spirit and a smile that could light up a whole town.”

✦ pairing: daniel ricciardo x famous!latina!reader

✦ type: social media au

✦ face claim: becky g

✦ warnings: female!reader, covid-19 & quarantine mentions, age gap, language.

✦ pit wall live: HAPPY FRIENDSHIP DAY BESTIES! 🤗💗 I've been working on this for a month, honestly I thought I was gonna finish it fast but tbh that was really naïve of me 🥴 the amount of times I ended up changing almost every little thing is insane lol but today I sat down and commited to finish and post this! this is my first ever smau or any kind of 'x reader' really, so please be kind 🤍 and of course it was going to be about the love of my life!

— oh btw, my idea is to get to present time and make it angsty so let me know what you guys think! I really hope you enjoy!

─── The Joker & The Queen (Masterlist)

JANUARY 01, 2020

yourinstagram and danielricciardo added to their stories!

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danielricciardo has followed yourinstagram!

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yourinstagram

♡ liked by anitta, danielricciardo and 6,546,214 others

yourinstagram 2019 was full of happiness, pain, healing and growth. I loved a lot, I cried a lot and I laughed a lot. I'm grateful for a lot of things in life, but I'm specially grateful for you guys ❤️🥂 I LOVE YOU! ❤️

tagged: selenagomez, fioamato, iamdannaschwarz, itsvittoriasousa

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fioamato It's out with the old and in with the new ⏭️😜

iamdannaschwarz this could be the start of something new indeed 😏🤭 yourinstagram 🙈 user yourinstagram girlieee does this mean you found your Troy Bolton tonight? 👀👀👀

iamdannaschwarz what a year it has been! Through the ups and downs you prevailed. So proud of you! Cheers, amiga! 🥂❤️

itsvittoriasousa u deserve the whole world, i wish everyone knew ur heart 🥺 love you biiiiiiig ❤️

user1 can we talk about that dress!!!! jaw dropped 🤯

user2 Mami 🔥🔥🔥

selenagomez ❤️🥂🎆

user3 danny ric you ain't slick baby we can see u 👀

user4 words on the streets that they were seen pretty close the whole night 👀

user5 girlies do we think the writing on the napkin belongs to mr. ricciardo? 🧐

user4 what about the last pic?? could it be about a nod to him???

user3 somebody call the fbi and the cia we need to decode this 🔎🔎🔎

sebastianyatra una locura de año 🚀 happy new year penguin!

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JANUARY 25, 2020

justjared

♡ 9.075 Likes

justjared New couple alert?! YN LN, 21, and Formula 1 driver Daniel Ricciardo, 30, were spotted on a walk and getting cozy during a night out in New York. More photos now on JustJared.com #YNLN #Daniel Ricciardo Photos: Backgrid

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user1: well that's a couple nobody saw coming 😶 good for them tho

user2: These pictures are so creepy as to get these they literally have to stalk these people and are probably hiding in bushes or wherever to get the shots

user3: he's a full-grown man in his 30s messing around with a teenager how shocking 🙄

user4: how is she a teenager if she's 21??? she is a consenting adult and has been for a while...make it make sense user5: it's a 9-year age gap not 25 😑 y'all should learn to mind your own fucking business

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FEBRUARY 05, 2020

danielricciardo added to their story!

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yourinstagram added to their story!

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yourinstagram

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yourinstagram starry nights, sunsets, little moments, deep conversations & special feelings 💖🃏

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iamdannaschwarz pov: you were there to witness the first conversation 🤣

itsvittoriasousa never knew a person could blush that hard 😂 yourintagram you are both getting blocked 🙅‍♀️

fioamato 🃏🃏🃏

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michaelitaliano and scottyjames31 have followed yourinstagram!

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MARCH 11 & 12, 2020

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yourinstagram has added to their story!

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APRIL 09, 2020

yourinstagram

♡ liked by danielricciardo, jbalvin and 5,723,498 others

yourinstagram Quarantine with an aussie boyfriend: turns out, 'G'day mate' is the only greeting you'll ever need. Who needs handshakes anyway? Also, you get to excessively use the word 'mate' without being judged. It's basically a linguistic free pass 🤷🏽‍♀️😂🇦🇺

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user: OMG OMG IT'S FUCKING HAPPENING!!!! EVERYBODY STAY CALM!!!

user: Dan-Y/N nation how we feeling today? 😍

user: wasn't she dating sebastianyatra tho?

user2: nah they've been friends for years

user3: «cristina» is lowkey about her tho 🤭 "you were 19, i was 23"?? and there's a 4 year age gap between them?? they deffff had something going on a few years back AT LEAST 👀

user2: who knows maybe they did, but they refer to each other as "like-a-brother" and "like-a-sister" so as far as we know they are only best friends 🤷🏽‍♀️

fioamato what do you say titi yourmomsinstagram does it get the seal of approval?

yourmomsinstagram 🤔🤔🤔 yourinstagram she face-timed me and told me to pass the phone so she could talk to him. They talked for an hour. They are besties now, she's just trying to play hard-to-get 🙃

danielricciardo and 5,345 other liked it

fioamato 😂😂😂

jbalvin encantado de verte feliz hermanita ❤️

danielricciardo tell your boyfriend he's really lucky 🤙🏼

yourinstagram thanks will do, mate 🤙🏼

user OMG??? you guys are so unserious 😭

user2 MOM??? DAD???

user3 danielricciardo yourinstagram i'm glowing, flourishing and thriving 🥰😭

michaelitaliano shitty accent though

yourinstagram I love my haters ❤️ you guys are my motivators ☺️ btw don't you have a kangaroo to fight?

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APRIL 29, 2020

yourinstagram

♡ liked by michaelitaliano, danielricciardo, lewishamilton and 6,498,498 others

yourinstagram Spanglish country…we’re doing it!! Watch kanebrown_music and I blend sounds, languages and dance moves in #LostInTheMiddleOfNowhere (Spanish Remix) 😜 song and video OUT NOW 🔥

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iamcardib OKAAAY MAMAAA 🧊🧊🥶

lali ALTA DIOSA 🔥

user she 👏 never 👏 misses 👏

itsvittoriasousa BRO U ABSOLUTELY ATEEE

user jaw drops to floor eyes pop out of sockets hearts out of chest 😍

danielricciardo wow caliente 🔥

user the amount of unwell I am in this exact moment

user2 daniel is right. muy caliente 🥵

user3 i'm losing my mind over 2 words + emoji okay

user4 daniel stop being a cunt and make an appearence in one of Y/N's ig lives

user5 user4 you could totally hear his voice in the last one lmao

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MAY 03, 2020

danielricciardo

♡ liked by pierregasly, jensonbutton, iamdannaschwarz and 710,610 others

danielricciardo Just a bunch of life 🤠🚜🇦🇺🇺🇸

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yourinstagram awesome taste in music mate 👍🏼

danielricciardo big fan of hers 👍🏼 love finding new underground artists ☺️ user imagine calling THE yourinstagram an "underground artist" lmaooo user2 they're both such little shits i love them your honor 😭

kristenanniebell ❤️❤️❤️

scottyjames31 I see you're in good company mate

corey_wilson goodness I miss the ranch so much

user daniel said lemme give you thirsty bitches a few droplets of water

user2 there's so much to unpack here omfg

iamdannaschwarz you're welcome 😌 also there's a no-return policy in the contract ok bye

fioamato you're welcome 😌 x2 itsvittoriasousa you're welcome 😌 x3 danielricciardo nah i think i'm gonna keep it for a long while thanks. i'll rate you guys with 5 stars 👍🏼

user3 THE LETTER ON THE LAST PHOTO ???? I'M SENDING Y'ALL MY THERAPY BILLS

user4 THE MATCHING RINGS PLEASE!!!!!!! 😭😭😭

user5 all this soft launch shit is killing me guys help somebody let them know that we already know so they can stop playing!!!

yourinstagram but where's the fun in that babes? 😌 user holy shittttt!!!! y/n ???? i- 🤯 user5 OH MY GOD!!!! HI MOTHER AJKFFLAHDASD user2 it's a fucking confirmation!!!! dan-y/n nation we got it!!! it's crumbs but we got it!!!!!

user6 we stan a suportive bf ☝️🤩

user7 999 for grammy's best album of the year ✨manifesting✨

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─── Please don't forget to reblog & comment! ♡

[ace-of-zaun]

It’s Because:

Silco x gn!reader - 1k words - SFW

cw: fluff, angst, pining, denial of feelings, falling in love, brief mentions of death, injury, and trauma, happy ending

summary: Silco is not in love. At least, that’s what he tells himself. 

a/n: i’ve never written anything like this before, i hope it works!! (it really hurt to type as well but my physio told me i had to.) inspired by the song i’m not in love by 10cc

Silco is not in love.

Unequivocally, categorically not in love. 

He doesn’t even know what love is when he meets you as a jaded, starving teenager, too busy trying to make ends meet to even think about something as trivial as love. But he does know that the easy way you smile when you meet his eyes makes his day just that little bit brighter. 

He’s not in love when he spots you a few years later, standing quietly amongst the meagre crowd in the bar, listening to his rallying speech of change and independence. Although, the spark in your eyes as you watch him is like a match to the burning in his chest, and for once in his life, it makes him feel alive. 

Silco isn’t in love when he accompanies you on mission after mission, learning to trust one another as he watches your back and you watch his in return, securing resources, and medicine, and meals for the starving children of his city. It’s just the adrenaline from the sprint back home, as you both narrowly escape the Enforcer’s clutches, that sets his heart racing to the dozen.

He can’t be in love when he watches you from across the bar, laughing, and singing, and dancing along to the jukebox, unaware of how effortlessly you light up the room. And so what if deep down he wants to join you and bathe in that light, soaking you in until you're his? It’s not like it means anything anyway. 

There’s no such thing as love on his birthday when he refuses to tell anyone the significance of the day, instead scowling down at yet another shipping manifest. Except, when you hand him a cupcake and kiss his cheek as you walk through the bar on your way to the market, he hopes the red of his ears and the longing expression isn’t too noticeable. 

Love isn’t present on the night you cry in his arms, heaving sobs that wrack your body as you mourn those lost in the fight, yet more casualties in this never ending fight for freedom. It’s simply the right thing to do when he lulls you to sleep, shushing your cries until your breathing slowly evens and your heart beats sync up with his. 

Silco tells himself he isn’t in love when you sit side by side, legs dangling off the little bridge that crosses the river as he gifts you a starburst necklace that once was his mother’s. And it certainly doesn’t mean anything when you gaze up at him with the softest smile, intertwining your fingers with his while you gently rest your head on his shoulder. 

He is not in love the day you stand with him in the little alcove across the street from the bar, sheltering from the rain that drips down to form galaxies of puddles along the square floor. You’re up on your tip-toes, his arm is around your waist, and when your nose bumps against his, his heart beats so loud he’s sure you can hear it-

But then his brother is suddenly there, pulling him away from you as he insists he goes for a walk with him, and Silco makes the worst decision of his life and agrees. 

In thunder and rain, Silco knows that love ends in nothing but betrayal when he is forced to disappear, body pulsing with pain, mind in tatters. He’s hurting, and angry, and beyond scared. But weaved in between it all, he thinks of you and pictures the way you looked and felt beneath his fingertips, and thinks that maybe it’s not all bad. 

There’s no time to think of love when, years later, he finally gets his revenge and reclaims his bar, his home; a second chance at raising the city his people deserve. Though, it’s almost like serendipity when he happens to take a break from arranging his schedule to look through the window down into the square, and there you are, standing in the middle of the street silently watching his workers carry in new furniture. 

He isn’t in love when he runs down to you, nearly tripping down the stairs in his haste, pushing through the doors until you’re right there in front of him, the only place he truly feels safe. But when you don’t scream or slap him or curse him for leaving you, instead striding across the distance to throw your arms around him in a tight embrace, he forces himself to choke back his tears and allows yours to soak into his shoulder instead. 

Silco continues to remind himself that he’s not in love in the coming months, while you sit beside him day after day, helping him put his plans into motion, listening to every word, every worry, every whisper. Really, who can even tell that his heart skips a beat when he spots that you’re still wearing his mother’s necklace, still so mirandous even after all this time?

He’s not in love the evening you sit atop the bar, laughing as you retell a story from your youth, caught delightfully off-guard when he can’t help but surge forward, capturing your lips while his hands cup your heated cheeks. It’s just one of those things, he supposes, to finally feel content standing between your legs, your own lips pressed in a smile against his, in a way that kick starts his once dead heart. 

But now, nearly two decades after he’d first laid eyes on you as a naïve boy, he lays next to you in bed and watches you sleep peacefully, tangled in the sheets the same way you’ve weaved yourself into his heart. And in the quiet lull of the night, he runs his fingers over a shiny, jewelled ring, custom-forged to match his mother’s necklace that still rests around your neck. 

He thinks of easy mornings and four-word questions, and for the first time in his life, allows himself to simply feel. 

Maybe, just maybe, Silco is in love. 

[prolix-yuy]

Beautiful Release

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: You and Din have an agreement. Simple, clean, easy. But not this time.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, IT'S PEGGING DIN TIME! Anal sex (m receiving), rough sex, sex toys, fingering (m receiving), handjob, frottage, blowjob, swallowing, cumshot, mentions of oral sex (f receiving), mild dubcon (Reader isn't aware of Din's mental state and stops the session to re-negotiate boundaries), painful sex, sex as self-flagellation, hurt/comfort.

Notes: Welcome to my addition to the Peg That Middle Aged Man Event 2024! This idea had been bumping around in my brain and this gave me the perfect excuse to write it. Thanks @wannab-urs for organizing this event, making the gorgeous banners, and giving me a chance to live my fantasies after S3 gave us the most delicious kneeling restrained Din image. I will never forget it, it's burned into my brain forever.

Set after S2 and before The Book of Boba Fett.

Cross-posted on AO3

He’s come to you before, but never like this.

Din always treats your encounters like serendipity, but from the first time you’ve known how far from the truth that is. He finds ways to drift into your path, tilting his helmet like he never expected you to be at this spaceport, which you prefer for its discretion, or in this cantina, which serves a hell of a barium fizz. The niceties always devolve into the silent request, which you never fail to fulfill.

But now, there’s a holomessage blinking on your control panel.

Send me your coordinates. Usual encoding.

It’s brisk, cold, mostly to protect you both, but even then something’s off. He’s never admitted to seeking you out. Something stirs deep in your stomach, consulting the encoding slug he gave you ages ago in case you ever needed him. Funny, the first time you’d use it would be because you think he needs you.

Your winding relationship with Din Djarin began at the business end of a blaster, but you can’t fault him for that. The ship you were flying then had all the hallmarks of a slaver vessel, but when he found your crew of rebel sympathizers he lowered his weapon. One escort and a few short-lived conversations later, and you’d forged a razor-thin alliance. 

Your paths wound their way across and through each other for over a year, and in that time Din warmed to you. He gave you his name, his allegiances, his contacts if needed. In return you forged documents and built jammers for his ramshackle ship. Mutually beneficial, and after a time pleasantly warm. His laugh always surprised you, a low chuckle when you turned a phrase just right on him. 

And the kid! The curious little gremlin that had been accompanying him more in recent times did help to smooth the rough spots. Grogu’s presence always brightened your days, brief moments of pure joy from his tireless antics. Din seemed to be ever the exasperated protector, but when he tucked Grogu into his arm his aura glowed. 

However, the times when Din “stumbled” upon you with seemingly no purpose had little to do with play dates or trades. Well, maybe only in the most euphemistic sense.

It was on a cargo run - cargo being more frightened people fleeing under the guise of your fake shipping business - that Din first encountered what would bring him back to you time and time again. There was a man among the stowaways who took an interest in you, the feeling mutual. He wound his way around like a lothcat in heat, and when you whispered how you might be able to pass the time he enthusiastically agreed. 

You weren’t much of an exhibitionist, but the ship wasn’t meant for privacy. So when Din happened upon you bending the man over a cargo crate, your strap slickly splitting him open as he moaned behind your clamped hand, you did feel some mild embarrassment. You weren’t sure how long he watched you thrust into the other man, but the little cough that alerted you to his presence made you turn and take him in.

He was clearly affected, hand gripping his belt as the other clenched by his side. Fascinating. The Mandalorian had surprises in store. 

The man garbled about sucking Din’s cock, letting the Mando cum on his face while you pounded his tight hole, but you stuck your fingers in his mouth and picked up your rhythm again. You’d met other Mandalorians in your travels, but Din’s particular religion was much stricter than most. He might take hefty offense if you assumed any of the armor could come off. Instead you let him watch without comment as your companion came all over the side of the cargo crate, soothing him through the aftershocks. As you cleaned him up you noticed your audience fled, and you determined never to speak of this. 

It would take two months for Din to come to you. 

“People like this?” he asked when you showed him your strap and assortment of attachments. You shrugged, picking out the one you secretly thought he’d enjoy.

“Some do, some don’t. It’s just one of many things I like,” you said, leaning against your bedroom wall as he filled the small space with restless energy. “I’m sure you like plenty of things too.”

There it was. The little roll of the shoulders and flex of a hand that told you Din wasn’t as inexperienced as some would believe. 

“Never tried something like this,” he mumbled, and you smiled under the knowledge that he was nervous. Din Djarin, feared throughout the galaxy, and dearer friend than you ever expected, had something he wanted and didn't know how to ask for.

“Would you like to try it?” you said, taking the last barrier away. He tilted the helmet down, fingers restless on his hip. 

“Yes.”

That first night you didn’t fuck him, though by the end he was so close to begging you almost came from the sound. Instead you opened him up with your fingers, got him used to the feeling of fullness and how to connect it to pleasure, while he laid on your bed and gripped the sheets so hard you thought he’d rip them. His pants bunched across his thighs, you got to admire the cords of muscle rippling as you made him shake and choke. His cock, velvety and weeping on his stomach, made your mouth water, but you only offered to suck it when he was just on the precipice. Your hot mouth wrapping around his head, two clever fingers stroking his prostate, tipped him over into bliss as he shouted his completion. Pride swelled in your chest at his belabored breath, chestplate heaving and thighs quivering on either side of your head. 

When you returned from cleaning up he was already dressed again, despite your protests to wait and let you ease him down from this new experience. He thanked you, awkwardly, and left quickly. Lying in the same bed that night, still smelling of him, you reasoned with yourself. He probably had a lot of feelings to sort out, both around his pleasure and the fact that you gave it to him. You hoped he trusted you enough to know you’d be discreet. And, as your fingers slid into your underwear, you hoped he’d seek you out again.

It was only a week before you were at the same spaceport again, his heavy boots clanking up your ramp. You tried to hide your own nerves, but when Din stood before you and let the visor drag up and down your body, a delicious grin crept onto your face.

“Ready to try more?”

Indeed he was.

He enters your ship without preamble, a brief flit of concern clouding your features at how quickly he disarmed your security measures. You weren’t expecting him for another hour. He must have jumped to get to you. 

It’s thrilling, to know the Mandalorian’s need is so great. 

But when he enters and closes the door behind him, the energy is…off. Not seductive, teasing, edged like the other times. No, he’s holding his body so tight and so still. There’s nothing aggressive in it, but you glimpse why his enemies fear him. Without a face, and with so much obscuring the flesh beneath, you’re not sure when he’ll strike. 

He catches you rummaging through your drawer, the strap in your hand. Assessing, you give him a gentler smile than usual, hands visible, softening your stance.

“Hello, Din.”

He nods, quickly, unbuckling his belt and yanking his cape free. Both fall to the floor carelessly. You press on.

“How about you tell me what you want?” you say, watching him carefully as he opens his pants plaquet. The mouthwatering strip of skin you covet peeks from beneath his top.

“Just need…need this,” he says, and while naturally a man of few words you’d taught him to be more vocal in this respect. 

“Okay, Din. How about you kneel on the bed and we start there?” Your voice lowers into a soothing register, reaching for his arm. 

“No,” he almost shouts, startling your hand back. He recovers. “No, I want…” You can practically hear him licking his lips on a sigh, slowing himself down. “Can you sit against the headboard?”

Brows raised, you nod. He’s never ridden you before, always preferring to let you take him from behind or on his back. Pulling the strap-on over your leggings, you settle against the headboard and wait for him. He doesn’t take long, kneeling on the bed briefly in contemplation before swinging over your lap. Shucking his pants half down his legs, you can’t resist a giggle.

“Might be better to take them off,” you tease, letting your hands lay featherlight on his hips. A huff crackles through the vocoder but he doesn’t move to disrobe further. 

“I’ll open you up a bit first,” you say, one hand reaching for lube while the other snakes its way to his hole. You encounter surprising slickness, but he’s nowhere as warmed up as you get him.

“S’okay, I took care of it,” he mumbles, both hands coming up to grip the headboard above your head. Slicking lube on the dildo, you move to finger him enough to ease your way in.

“Just a little more…”

“I’m fine.”

The curt retort snaps your face to the helmet, now more of a cowled chin and shining halo of beskar above your head. There’s something bubbling uncomfortably under the surface, something you feel the need to drag out by the scruff of the neck, but it’s Din. You never talk feelings with Din. Frankly, you barely talk at all during, or after, any of your nights together.

“Sorry,” he breathes, forcing relaxation. “I’m ready. Please.”

Your eyes linger for a moment longer, then you circle the base of your cock in waiting.

He descends slowly, gritted breaths and sharp blasts of air from his nose echoing above you. You watch the strain in his thighs as he sinks and sinks, his cock only half-hard against his stomach. Leaving a hand on one hip, you stroke soothing paths up and down his lower back, watching for discomfort. Instead he’s marble around you, coiled, body not releasing as usual. Normally when you fuck him he dissolves, rolling his hips back onto you and choking out praises of how good you feel.

None of that comes. He meets the base of your cock and immediately slides back up at an almost punishing pace. He can’t be that acclimated yet, and his pained hisses and grunts only make that more apparent. 

“Din, slow down,” you request, hands firmer on his hips to try and even his pace. If he heard you he says nothing, now slamming his hips down on your cock. “Din,” you beseech again, nails starting to dig in. His grunts grow to growls, something from the heat of battle, your headboard creaking from his crushing grip. 

Clarity overtakes you, the shudder of his stomach and forceful downstrokes only getting more intense. There wasn’t pleasure in this. Something is eating up Din inside and he’s trying to fuck it out of himself. And he’s using you to do that.

“Din Djarin, STOP.”

The echo of your voice, strong and steely, finally brings Din to a stop with your cock buried deep in his ass. His chest heaves in front of you, limbs quivering from the exertion, but he’s as still as he can be. Gripping his chestplate, you push him back enough to look him in the visor, your anger righteously reflected back.

“You don’t punish yourself with my cock,” you order, teeth clenched and seething. “Do you think so little of me, that I’d just let you rip yourself to shreds without a word?” 

Din freezes, but this time you know it’s shame. If you were in a clearer headspace you might have tried reassurance, or asked him to lay beside you and talk about what’s destroying him, but you’re just too upset. 

“Is that all you come to me for?” you spit out, knuckles aching from gripping his armor. He’s silent for long enough that you consider throwing him out before he speaks.

“Something happened. And I just want to…be empty. To not think about it every moment.” He leans forward and your visage warps as he presses his forehead to the crown of your head. The anger thrums but starts to ebb as he folds around you. “I didn’t know where else to go. You’ve always taken care of me. More than I deserve.”

The sadness in his voice is palpable, and even with your mouth still sour from his deception you find the compassion to wrap your arms around his middle. The chestplate presses into your cheek, a metronome for Din’s slowing breaths. 

“If you have any care in your heart for me, don’t ever do that again,” you grit out. Din’s breath catches. 

“I care for you,” he says, and a door in your heart you never realized was cracked widens for Din’s admission. 

“I care for you too, you karking asshole, which is why I want you to say something instead of trying to hate fuck your feelings out.”

Din’s chest begins to shake again, but you’re sure it’s laughter this time. You manage a giggle of your own, letting him lean back and look at you again. The motion shifts your cock in him, and his sharp sigh arches your brow.

“If you wanted to forget, you could have just told me,” you say, rolling your hips sensuously up into his clenching hole. Din’s head drops back, grip tightening on the headboard again as you grind into him.

“Please,” he begs, so soft and vulnerable you can’t help but give him what he needs. 

Slowly you press up into him, guiding his hips to rock on your cock. You love the feel of his ass in your hands, well muscled and perfect for grabbing, manhandling him just enough to show he can let go. He follows your direction reluctantly at first, but as you plant your feet and start thrusting with more range he loosens. You can feel it in his arms, holding on to the headboard for dear life, and the building rhythm of his hips meeting yours. For a man whose life is violence, you never want to bring that into your sessions. But a light swat on one asscheek pulls the most delicious moan from deep in his chest.

“Fuck,” he groans, bearing down on you even more. Tilting your hips, you arch his back enough that you’re sure to hit his prostate on the next thrust. 

“Maker!”

There it is.

“Close your eyes,” you whisper. Waiting a moment, you zero in on that perfect spot inside him and hit it with every one of your thrusts. “Do you feel that? Feel how good I’m fucking you?”

“Yes, fuck,” Din curses, one hand flitting down to squeeze the base of his cock. He’s at full attention now, head bobbing against your stomach. You swell with pride that he’s having to stave off his orgasm so quickly, but you’ll be the one to make those decisions now. 

“All I want you to think about is how good you feel,” you purr, tugging his hand away and replacing it with your own. You long for his skin against yours, so you pull up your shirt to skim the head of his cock against your soft belly. He chokes, stuttering away but he’s trapped between your hand and thighs.

“Wait, Maker, I’ll cum if you…” he garbles, but his body keeps meeting your grinds. You shush him gently, stroking from base to tip and smearing precum over the head. 

“You will, but only when I let you. You know I’ll make it good for you, make nothing but this pleasure you’re feeling fill that head of yours.” His rapid nod almost knocks you in the head with the beskar, but he manages to tuck into your neck instead. The helmet is a shocking cool against your skin, but the act of burrowing into you must be rewarded. Bringing your arms around him, you press along the length of his body, trapping his cock between.

“I’m gonna pound into this tight ass until you cum all over us. You like that?” The wail Din lets out shoots heat to your cunt, wishing more than anything that you’d opted for a toy that gave you a little stimulation too. Instead you hammer fast and hard, barely pulling out. Your hips and thighs burn with exertion at his bulk on top of you, but he’s frantically bouncing back and rutting his cock into the wet mess your bodies make. 

“Don’t stop,” he gasps, and you’re not sure if it’s the vocoder but you think his voice sounds watery. “Please, cyar’ika, don’t stop.”

Cupping the back of his neck, damp with sweat, you whisper, “I’ve got you.”

With a handful of final pumps you’re coated in his cum, sliding around your belly as he seizes over and over. Pressing deep, you hold strong against his shuddering body as he finishes. Each weakening thrust draws him down on you, heavier and loose-limbed. 

The armor makes it hard to find the soft spots, so you take to kneading the back of his neck and palming his spine. Before his last aftershock, you urge him higher on his knees so you can slip your cock out - slowly, so as not to shock his jellying body. Easing him down, you hold his head in the crook of your neck and settle him on your lap. His hands slide down from the headboard to your shoulders. 

Then you hear it. A tiny sniff, then another. You can’t pretend you didn’t notice them so close to your ear. So you gather the broad man in your arms and hold him. His hands don’t know where to rest, finally winding loosely around your lower back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” you tell him again, and the sniffing starts to recede. His body, however, slumps against yours, and it takes all of your strength not to start giggling.

You fucked the Mandalorian right to sleep. Bravo to you.

When Din finally stirs, a deep rumble in his throat, it’s been almost an hour. Your toes are half numb and you’re dying to shift into any other position, but much like a lothcat falling asleep on your lap, you couldn’t bear to move Din. Especially when he started snoring, one of the most endearing and hilarious sounds you’d ever heard him make. 

In the time he slept you wondered what happened. What terrible thing hollowed him out and haunts him. Something keeps him up at night, if the depth of his sleep is any indication. Recent, possibly. Traumatic.

Your breath caught in your throat. If something happened to Grogu you know he would have told you. You ask after him all the time, teasing that you’ll be his Auntie (Din always says he has plenty of them across the galaxy). 

Had you seen the Razor Crest fly up? Where was that old bird anyway?

What happened in the time since Din last saw you?

The cycle of possibilities always ends the same. Maybe he cares for you in some way, but not enough for you to ask. No matter how much you want to.

A shift on your lap alerts you to Din waking, kneading his shoulders and neck lightly to alert him to your presence. He’s never slept with you before, but it wouldn’t surprise you to learn that he’s quick to draw at unexpected circumstances. Of which this one definitely is.

“What…” Din croaks, and if not for the helmet you would have offered him water. 

“It’s okay, you’re on my ship. You’re okay.” 

It takes Din another minute to realize what’s happened. Him, half naked on your lap with your strap pressing against his ass. You, covered in drying cum beneath him. In a flash he’s swinging his leg off your lap, attempting to stand but obviously they’ve gone as numb as yours because he stumbles and crashes out of sight. 

“Oh kriff, are you…?” you start to ask, but as quick as he’s out of sight he pops back up again, tugging up his pants and tucking himself away.

“Sorry, that was…I didn’t mean to…do that.” 

All of the heaviness and anger and lust fizzles away to laughter as you try to suppress the ridiculousness of the moment. After a moment of indigent head tilting Din’s shoulder also shake, chuckles fuzzing out of the vocoder. 

“Oh Maker, what an understatement that is,” you sigh, wiping your stomach with the edge of your bedsheets. Din visibly cringes, hands on his hips.

“Sorry for the mess,” he apologizes, but you wave it off.

“I’ve had much worse, believe me,” you shoot back. Clean enough, you sit on the edge of the bed and look up at the inscrutable man. 

“Want to talk about it?”

Din’s stance shifts, helmet tipping down for a moment before coming back to your face.

“...Not yet.”

You hum and nod. “Well, you know how to find me if you do.”

Din nods. “Thank you.”

As he picks up his effects you shimmy off the harness at the foot of the bed, mentally ticking through the steps to clean everything. Din watches you set it down, stilling until your eyes come back to him.

“It gives you pleasure as well?” he asks, which raises one of your eyebrows.

“I mean, about as much as rhythmically hitting your hips against someone can do.” His posture changes into something hard to decipher, so you continue. “I’ve got a few that do more for me, but it depends on the person I’m with. Comfort, boundaries. As you’re well aware.” You gesture to the armor, his chin tucking down to look at it.

“So you’ve never cum with me?” he asks, and a sudden feverish heat blooms under your skin. Din has a sex appeal you appreciate, but have never acted on beyond what he’s asked for. Now, something’s changed so dizzyingly fast you’re scrambling.

“Well, you’re pretty spent after our sessions. And you leave quickly. I don’t ask for more than you can give.”

Din takes a step towards you, putting his belt and cloak back down.

“What do you ask of other people you fuck?”

Your heart hammers in your chest. How can he turn the tables so quickly and spectacularly? Trying to gain the upper hand, you pull a confident face on and speak as breezily as possible.

“Most can’t get it up twice after I fuck them within an inch of their life, so fingers, tongues, toys, any and all of the above are excellent ways to repay the favor.”

He’s even closer now, and the facade is barely holding up. It’s like the vulnerability he showed you can’t possibly be returned.

“You’ve never asked me,” he says, and you can’t believe there’s a note of regret in his voice. The bed hits the back of your legs, and you steady your voice even though those words make your pussy throb.

“I didn’t think it was allowed.” Your voice drops low as Din steps into your space. 

“Difficult, but not forbidden.” Din’s hands come to your shoulders. “Sit down, please.”

Your knees fold so fast you bounce on the bed, looking up at him. He joins you on one knee, hands coming to rest on your thighs.

“I broke my Creed. I would do it again, for the exact same reason, but now that makes me an apostate.” His hands come to the helmet, thumbs tucking underneath the lip.

“Din, what happened?”

He pauses, and you swear you can feel his gaze through that smoky visor. 

“Close your eyes.”

Darkness surrounds you, then a hiss and a thunk. 

Then the voice of a man you care for, unfiltered and bare.

“I’m not ready for anyone to see my face. But I want this, with you. If you can forgive me.”

You could be dreaming still. It would make just as much sense.

“I forgive you, Din. But just this once,” you sneak in at the end just to hear how melodic his laugh sounds. Then his hand splays over your stomach and urges you to lie back.

“I hope you don’t mind teaching me this. I don’t have much experience,” he says, fire licking through your body as he tugs your leggings and underwear off.

“Don’t worry, you’re a quick learner,” you say breathily.

And when he finally kisses you, sweet with your musk on his tongue and your orgasm dripping from his fingers, you teach him how to do that as well.

END

"I need some distraction Oh a beautiful release Memories seep from my veins Let me be empty Oh and weightless and maybe I'll find some peace tonight.

Sarah McLachlan, Angel (yeah I know I used the sad dog song)

[risuola]

💙 sensei — he's your sensei and everyone seem to notice that he likes you. everyone but you. — student-teacher dynamics

💙 too much — satoru is exhausted once he gets back home from long mission. his composure snaps and he unloads his frustration on you. — angst, idiots in love

💙 policeman — you get back home and see a mess. there was a break into your apartment and your first thought is to call your cop boyfriend. — hurt/comfort, exes to lovers

💙 mug cake crisis — every household has to face a crisis sometime. yours came at 2:48 am and you had to sweeten your husband's way into peace again. — teeth rotting fluff

💙 promise — you felt sick watching your husband's fight with Sukuna, but your unborn daughter seemed to sleep just fine. little that you know, satoru made some promises to her — angsty, manga spoilers 💙 promise pt. 2 — fluffy alternate ending to part 1 💙 broken promise — VERY angsty alternate ending to part 1, manga spoilers

💙 birthday gift — sometimes you forget about your own birthday, but no worries, satoru's got you. — fluff

💙 real life surprise — life's full of surprises, but last thing you expected is for the fictional character to jump out of the screen

💙 07.12 — gojo satoru doesn't celebrate his birthdays. he made it a habit to work on that day, but to you that day is important. — fluff, established relationship

💙 skip santa, we're both on the naughty list anyway — it's easy to tell that there's something between you and satoru. it's also easy to tell that there's no way to pull him out of the bed. — suggestive & fluffy, kissmas 2023

💙 infinity — when was the last time you slept? you couldn't tell, but satoru was determined to get you to rest — fluff-ish, idiots in love

💙 miserable — satoru hated the way he would recognize you always, even if just by the taste of your tears — heavy angst, hurt/barely any comfort

💙 serendipity — a story about two people lost in the middle of arrangement not one of them wished for — series, arranged marriage

💙🖤 love medley — a collection of tracks about friendship, trust and love — series, college, roommates

💙🖤 lost cause — you had a soft heart, but the cruel world of sorcery took a toll on you. an universe in which satoru and suguru have another closest friend, but it's her that spirals into the circle of evil madness. — angst, manga references

💙 shush, we're in the library — how far can a teacher-student affair go? — smut, part two to sensei

💙 you cryin'? — you and gojo hate each other. he bites and you always bite back. one time you say too much and his self-control snap. — smut, frenemies 💙 you cryin'? pt. 2 — your reality now? gojo's shenanigans, idiotic pet-names and so. much. touching. — smut, frenemies to lovers

💙 do you want to stay? — after the painful breakup with satoru, your friend dragged you to the party, but the night went very wrong and very right. — angst+smut, exes to lovers

💙 safe word — satoru got back home angry and that got him carried away. contains heat, regret and aftercare — smut

💙 do you want my fingers? — you really needed to rest, but satoru, your classmate decided to practise his pen-spinning abilities. — smut

💙 say my name — never in your life you thought you'd go to bed with a compete stranger from the internet. — smut, kinktober 2023

💙🖤 call it double trouble — it's been a while since you last saw your college ex-boyfriend gojo and a halloween party led to your reconnection. this time though, he has a friend. — smut, threesome, kinktober 2023