#your writing style... i am gently holding this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thewintersoldierdisaster · 4 months

Text

a/n: a little fic inspired by a convo @youunravelme and i had a couple of days ago! couldn’t stop thinking about this little idea and just had to write it ☺️ a little bit more lore in the squeaks’ verse added here and lots more to come! enjoy!!

tw: a little innuendo, domestic fluff

word count: 4.3k

summary: it’s talia’s first day of kindergarten and neither you nor mat is handling it particularly well

mat and t’s first day of kindergarten

You lean forward on the counter and smile at Talia, who’s looking at you skeptically. “How about we pick some snacks for your lunch tomorrow?” You ask chirpily.

“How about no?” Talia looks back at you with wide hazel eyes and a nervous tilt to her lips. Her fingers twist together and she kicks the heels of her feet against the legs of the stool she’s sitting on.

“You’re going to be hungry if we don’t pack any snacks,” you reply reasonably, unzipping the brand new Disney Princess lunchbox you’d picked up a few weeks ago at Target. The rush of back to school shopping, even if it wasn’t for you, was a high like nothing else. You’d gone slightly overboard on the supplies and in a burst of excitement, had bought yourself a new planner and half a dozen packs of various styles of pen. You can’t help but get excited about stationary.

“If I was home I wouldn’t be hungry and I could have snacks whenever I want,” Talia points out, tugging at the end of her dark braid. She twists her fingers in the hair below the tie and you reach over the counter to gently untangle her fingers.

You prop your chin on your palm and nod. “You could. But you’re not going to be home. It’s your first day of kindergarten and you’re going to have so many new experiences,” your tone is infused with excitement and you’re relieved to see that the nervousness in Talia’s expression fades a little. Her mouth twists to the side, eyebrows drawing together over her nose.

“Am I gonna see Tulsa?” She asks, hopeful.

“Tulsa’s in the next school, remember, baby?” You reply carefully, hating to burst her bubble. “She moved to a new school too.”

Talia’s lower lip quivers and she sounds impossibly sad when she says, “I thought me and Tulsa were gonna be in school together?”

“Not this year,” you reply sympathetically, but then perk up to continue, “we’re still getting first day of school ice cream with Tulsa and Gunnar and Aunt Holly and Uncle Bo. That’s exciting, right?”

Talia’s eyes light up at the promise of ice cream and you knew that would work. She’s her father’s daughter when it comes to her sweet tooth.

“And you and Daddy, right?” She asks, leaning up in her knees on the stool, little palms pressed flat against the countertop.

“And me and Daddy,” you confirm. “We’re even bringing you to school in the morning, before Daddy goes to work.”

“Okay,” Talia nods once, decisive, and her mood about starting kindergarten is all but gone. “Mommy, can I have fishies for a snack tomorrow?”

You move around the kitchen, gathering up the components for her lunch, “sure, love bug, you can have fishies.” The snack-sized packet of Goldfish get tossed into her lunchbox, along with a handful of raspberries, a peeled Cutie, exactly five pretzel twists, a Nutella and peanut butter sandwich cut into stars, and a small water bottle. Now that she’s into it, Talia’s definitely got opinions on what should be included with her lunch.

“No, you can’t take seven cheese sticks,” you sigh, pulling the bag out of her hands and replacing it in the fridge before shutting the door. “I’ll give you one.”

“But I want six!” She yelps, hanging from the fridge handle. “I want six!”

“Six what?” Mat’s voice echoes through the kitchen, the back door closing behind him.

“Daddy!” Talia squeals and makes a beeline for his knees, crashing into them with a muffled grunt from Mat. He holds the pizza box high over her head in one hand and rubs at her head with the other. “Mommy won’t let me have six cheese sticks.”

Mat grins at you over Talia’s head and you roll your eyes back, crossing your arms and leaning a hip against the counter. You wait to see how he’ll handle it.

He slides the pizza box onto the counter and hoists Talia up next to it, leaning his palms on the counter and kissing her cheeks until she giggles. “Mommy is always right, Talia Bee,” he says seriously. “Especially when it comes to knowing how many string cheeses you can eat.”

You smile to yourself, turning to the cabinets to get out plates and glasses for dinner. Mat keeps talking to Talia behind you. “Besides, the last time you ate three string cheeses you puked on my sneakers, what do you think six would do?”

“Uhhh,” Talia’s eyes go wide and she cradles Mat’s face in her little hands, “puke six times?”

You and Mat wrinkle your faces into matching expressions of disgust. “Yeah, we don’t want to do that, right?” Mat laughs, tickling Talia until she shrieks for him to stop.

Before Talia can knock into it, you slide the pizza box out of her reach, warmth filling your stomach at how adorable Mat and Talia are together. Every time you see them, with their dark heads bent together conspiring, your heart lurches with love. Having a family with Mat is all you’ve wanted since you’d seen him around his teammates’ kids.

“Daddy?” Talia pipes up a few minutes later, half-chewed pizza in her mouth.

“Swallow first, please,” you remind her, snagging the green peppers off of Mat’s slice. You have no idea when he even orders with green peppers when you’re the only one who likes them.

Talia chews and quickly swallows while Mat waits with a soft smile on his face. “Can I wear my helmet to school?” She props her chin on her fists and grins charmingly at you both. Her hockey helmet is covered in stickers and glitter, a project with Mat that you hadn’t been privy to before it happened. She’s really easy to spot on the ice during her skating lessons though.

Mat grins at your daughter, clearly delighted at the prospect of her walking into her classroom with the decorated helmet on, but he shakes his head a little. “I think your helmet is better left on the rink, TB. Didn’t you and Mommy pick out a dress?”

You casually slide a few carrot sticks on her plate, mentally fist pumping when she grabs one and absently starts chewing on it. “Yeah, baby,” you chime in, “I thought you liked the dress we picked? With the blue stripes and your fancy heels?”

Talia’s fancy heels are a regular old pair of sandals with a twisted knot over the toes and an ankle strap, but they also have a quarter of an inch thick sole by the heel and so, they’re “fancy heels.”

“Oh yeah,” Talia nods. “I forgot. Can I bring Sparky?”

“Sure you can,” you agree. “But he has to stay in your backpack, okay? We don’t want him getting lost.”

“And maybe,” she plucks her fingers at the crust of her pizza, “maybe I can take Daddy’s hat. And maybe my sparkle jacket?” Nerves creep into her voice and it wavers a bit, making your heart clench painfully. You just want to protect her from all the bad feelings.

Mat reaches out to tug at the end of her braid, “you can take my hat in your backpack too.” His lips twist up to the side a little, concerned about Talia’s nerves.

“And you can wear your sparkle jacket over your dress,” you promise. Mat’s Stanley Cup Champion hat and Talia’s customised playoff denim jacket had been staples in her wardrobe all summer and you’re not surprised that she wants to bring both with her to school as comfort items.

Talia beams and Mat slings his arm over the back of your chair, relaxing now that Talia’s happy again. “How about you finish that pizza and we get in a little park time?” He suggests, laugh echoing around the kitchen when Talia jumps up on her chair to start chanting about the park.

After clearing up dinner and wrapping the leftover pizza up, the three of you head out to the park, Talia zipping ahead of you on her little pink bike. Mat links his fingers with yours and you squeeze his hand gently.

“She’s getting so big,” he comments sadly, his lips turning down in a frown. You look up at his side profile, studying the way his eyes never leave Talia for a second. Your heart flips in your chest, a painful lurch when you think about how you should be holding another baby right now, how you want so badly to give Talia younger siblings. Mat looks down at you and squeezes your hand tightly, drawing you away from the negative thought spiral. His lips twitch, like he’s trying not to smile and you know he’s about to say something out of pocket to lift your mood. You wait and sure enough, he says, with a little twinkle in his eye, “maybe we should homeschool her?”

A laugh bubbles out of your chest, the absurdity of his question slash suggestion easing the knot in your chest.

“Mat, baby,” you giggle at him, “you have a high school education and I can’t do math. It took all of my brain power and patience to teach her how to read and write.”

“Okay, homeschooling is out,” he replies, leaning in to give you a quick peck before running off to the swings, where Talia is calling for him to push her. She still has her helmet on and it’s tipping just a little bit over her eyes. Mat’s behind her in an instant, sending the swing higher and higher into the air. You reach Talia’s bike and set it upright, sitting on the seat and watching your two favorite people in the whole world laugh together.

A warm early September breeze ruffles your hair and you wave when Talia shrieks for you to watch how high she’s going. You want to live in this moment forever and commit every detail to memory.

Mat spends the next forty-five minutes chasing Talia around the park, wearing her out enough that bath time is a breeze and she slips under her covers with little argument. You and Mat pile into her bed too and Talia curls up against your side, yawning widely. Mat reads Madeline, voice getting quieter and quieter as Talia nods off, until he’s stopped reading altogether and her mouth hangs open, face slack in sleep.

“Sleep tight, love bug,” you whisper, kissing the top of her head before easing out from under her arm. Mat helps, holding your waist and keeping you steady as you get to your feet. He plants his own kiss on Talia’s forehead and clicks off the bedside lamp and turns on the nightlight before following you out of the room.

A sort of bittersweet mood traps you and Mat while you get ready for bed later. You know she’s ready for school, ready to make new friends and learn, but it’s hard to know that your tiny best friend is going to be out of your sight for eight hours a day now.

“She’s going to kill it,” Mat says, opening his arms for you to cuddle close. You rest your cheek over his heart, arms wrapped around his waist.

“I know,” you sigh. Your legs tangle with Mat’s under the covers. “What am I going to do with my day now?”

“Bottomless brunches and window shopping at the Americana,” Mat teases, kissing the crown of your head.

You tuck yourself even closer to him, soaking up his body warmth. “Oh ha,” you drawl. “Very funny.”

“It’s why you married me,” Mat chirps and you know he’s grinning without even having to look at him.

“Mhm,” you hum. “Definitely not for your big….wallet.”

You giggle and Mat groans, training his fingers up and down your spine, making you shiver. “That was even worse than mine, Squeaks,” he mutters.

“Guess your terrible sense of humor is rubbing off on me,” you snark, kissing Mat’s chest and closing your eyes. He mutters something under his breath, but his heartbeat is steady in your ear and you’re asleep before you know it.

The next morning is harder than you expected, emotion clogging your throat as you get a special breakfast - Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes, bacon, and fruit cut into different shapes - ready for Talia while Mat helps her get dressed.

He’s surprisingly adept at doing her hair, a high ponytail braided and tied off. There’s a big white bow at the top of her ponytail and her smile is huge as she spins in the little blue and white striped sundress.

“I love this dress, Mommy,” she beams, wiggling excitedly while you tuck a napkin into her collar to keep her clean.

“You look like a princess,” you compliment her. “Daddy did a really good job with your hair.”

“Thank you,” Mat wiggles his eyebrows and sits down to his own plate of Mickey pancakes.

Talia looks at you with wide eyes and covers her mouth with both hands while she tries to whisper, “Daddy messed up soooo many times.”

Mat’s lips flatten into a straight line and he looks at Talia with sarcasm written plainly on his features. “Gee, thanks, TB. I thought we agreed not to tell Mommy that?”

Talia shrugs at him and returns to her breakfast, humming happily under her breath. You smile at Mat and lean over the counter to kiss him gently, darting your tongue out to lick up a drop of maple syrup on his lower lip. “I still think you’re pretty impressive,” you whisper against his lips.

Mat grins against your lips and Talia makes a fake gagging sound, “kissing’s gross!”

You pull back from Mat with a laugh and point your fork at your daughter. “You won’t always think that, now finish breakfast. You don’t want to be late for your first day, do you?”

Talia shovels another bite of pancake into her mouth, slightly less enthusiastic, and you kiss the top of her head before going into the front hall to find her backpack to make sure everything is packed up. It’s heavy, full of fresh supplies (including a 64-pack of Crayola crayons with Talia’s initials Sharpied onto each individual crayon, a fit of mania from Mat, because “no one is going to try and snake my baby’s crayons from her!”), the Disney Princess beach towel that’ll be used for nap time, and one of Mat’s old button downs that’ll be used for a smock during art class.

You zip the backpack and settle it back against the wall, swallowing the emotion clogging your throat. Seeing all of Talia’s gear packed up is making everything so much more real.

Mat’s hands on your hips startle you a little, and you jolt back against his chest. “Penny for your thoughts?” He mutters, kissing your cheek. His palms are warm on your sides, fingers splayed towards your belly button.

“Just thinking about how it seems like time is moving so fast,” you sigh.

Mat nods against your neck and mumbles into your skin, “can we get serious about trying for another again? I miss the baby years.”

Your heart beats in triple speed in your chest, anxiety flooding your veins, but you nod, whisper, “yes, definitely. I want another baby, Mat.”

The conversation is halted when Talia comes stampeding into the hallway, twirling around. “Mommy! Can I wear your lipstick?” She clasps her hands under her chin and pouts adorably. You should resist, tell her no and swipe on a little of the Pink Sugar Summer Fridays lip balm that she loves instead, but you find yourself nodding and pulling away from Mat to grab your purse off the hook.

“Sure, baby,” you squat in front of her, digging out the well-loved tube of Black Honey from the bottom of your purse. Talia puckers her lips out in a kiss and you swipe on a little bit of the sheer balm.

Twenty minutes later and running slightly behind schedule, after you make Talia pose for a few pictures with her Back to School board and she insists on Mat sitting on the step next to her for a picture, you’re all buckled into Mat’s car for the quick drive to the primary school. Talia’s swinging her feet in her booster seat, smiling happily now that she’s wearing the red cowboy boots Aunt Liana had brought back as a souvenir from her trip to Nashville over the summer instead of the sandals you initially wanted her to wear.

“Mommy,” Talia sing-songs, “I’m hot.”

“The air conditioning is on, T,” you sigh, rubbing at your temple. You know she’s probably hot because of the boots and the denim jacket she’d insisted on wearing. Her sandals are in your tote bag and all she has to do is ask for them, but a stubborn streak runs through your daughter, inherited directly from both you and Mat.

You can see the side of Mat’s lips tick up out of the corner of your eye, his fingers tapping along on the steering wheel as Justin Bieber plays on the radio - the old-school throwback station, which makes you feel ancient. He looks at Talia in the rear view mirror and says casually, “I bet you’d feel better if you let Mommy give you the sandals.”

Talia’s face crinkles up in disgust. “I don’t want the sandals. I wanna wear my Mashpill boots.”

A little giggle bubbles up in your chest, it’s getting rarer that Talia mispronounces a word, so you’re living for the Nashville/Mashpill mistake.

“The sandals won’t be as hot,” Mat says, and then, laughing, adds, “plus your feet won’t stink!”

“My feet don’t stink!” Talia gasps, outraged. She shoots back, shouting, “your feet stink!”

You laugh and Mat mock-glares at you. You give him an innocent smile, teasing, “keep your eyes on the road, dear.”

Mat scoffs at you, rolling his eyes even as a full smile graces his lips. Talia’s still chanting in the back about stinky feet, at the right age for the silly humor. Mat reaches out and rests his hand on your thigh, letting his fingertips drift up under the hem of the linen dress you’re wearing. The pads of his fingers dance lightly over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh and you shiver a little, goosebumps rising on your arms. Mat’s smile turns smug and he taps the volume button on the steering wheel with his other hand, singing along loudly to the Billy Joel song now playing. Talia’s little voice chimes in from the back seat with her made up lyrics, and by the second verse, you’ve joined in for the three-part harmony.

Mat pulls the car up to the curb outside of the school, parking behind a line of SUVs before turning the car off and pocketing his keys.

“Ready, T?” You turn around in your seat, smiling widely at her.

She sighs and kicks her feet up at you. “Mommy, can I have my sandals?”

Your smile softens and you nod, reaching behind you for the tote resting at your feet. “Sure can, baby. I think you’ll be more comfortable this way,” you reply, getting out of the front seat so you can open Talia’s door and change out her shoes before she hops out of her booster seat. Mat’s already out on the sidewalk, holding her little pink backpack in one hand.

He looks like such a stereotypical dad in his dark jeans and navy polo, hair scraped back off his forehead and slightly beat up sneakers. The little pink backpack just makes him even hotter and you can’t help but stare. When Mat catches you looking, he gives you a slow smirk and a quick wink, holding his hand out for Talia to take.

She grabs his hand with her free one and lifts her feet off the ground without warning, swinging between you and Mat. Your arm nearly pulls out of its socket and your heart skips a quick beat, but Talia giggles and you love that she feels safe enough to do that. Mat swings his arm, sending Talia forward and eliciting even more giggles.

“Maybe we can just skip school and go to the park?” Talia asks, planting her feet back on the ground and squinting up at the school. It’s a cute little square brick building, kindergarten and first grade classrooms on the outside of the hallways and glass windows looking in on a courtyard. The ceilings are lower inside to make it more welcoming to the kids and Mat can brush the ceiling tiles with his fingertips when he stretches his arm over his head - something he had learned during the open house a few weeks ago.

But from the way Talia’s looking at the building now you’d think she was standing in front of Hogwarts.

At the same time you open your mouth to suggest going to the park after school, Mat pipes up and says, “that’s a good idea, TB. You don’t need to go to school, you can just stay home with Mommy.”

“Mat!” You hiss at him over Talia’s head and he cocks his head at you, barely looking apologetic.

“What?” He mutters back. “It’s an option.”

“It’s not!” You say, at the same time Talia says, “I wanna stay with Mommy.”

You glare at him, hoping your expression conveys the exact levels of ‘see what you did?’ that you’re feeling. Mat’s mouth curls in a sheepish expression and you can see his hand tighten around Talia’s, like he’s not going to let her into the school. Before any of the three of you can say anything, you spot a tall older woman striding down the path towards your little group. You recognize her as the principal and are bracing yourself for the absolute hysterics that Talia is sometimes prone to.

“Hi Talia,” she smiles, bending a little at the waist so she can be at eye level with your daughter, “I’m Mrs. Seaver, the principal. Do you remember meeting me at open house?”

Talia nods, totally mute, her fingers tightening around yours. Your hear squeezes a little for her, nearly ready to break down and bring her home, like Mat had suggested.

“Why don’t you come with me and we can get you settled in your classroom?” Mrs. Seaver continues, somehow managing to get Talia’s hand and backpack away from Mat and starts walking her back up the path to the school. “Your mom and dad will be so excited to hear all about what exciting things you got up to today.”

Talia looks back at you over her shoulder, an apprehensive look on her face. Mat makes a move to step forward and follow them, but you reach out to lace your fingers with his, tugging him back gently. “We literally cannot keep her from going to school,” you whisper, pasting a bright smile on your face and waving at her with your free hand.

Mat looks constipated and you nudge him with the back of your hand, muttering, “smile,” until he manages something halfway decent.

“She’s just a baby,” he says out of the corner of his mouth, waving like a robot. “She shouldn’t be old enough for school.”

You sniffle a little, watching the door shut behind Talia and the principal, your hand dropping from the air. “I don’t understand how time went so fast,” you hiccup, tears building at your lash line. Anxiety starts to churn in your stomach. “Maybe you’re right, maybe we should keep her home another year.”

“Oh, whoa,” Mat wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you to his chest so he can hug you tightly. “We definitely need to distract you, if you’re starting to agree with me.”

He laughs and you manage a weak giggle against his shoulder. Mat’s hands are warm against your back and you melt into him. “I’m going to miss having my little sidekick around,” you confess, suddenly exhausted from holding it together. Other than a few hours a week at pre-k, Talia’s been by your side practically every second since birth.

Mat drops a kiss to the top of your head, “I’ve got a couple of hours before I have to hit the gym, why don’t we go home and make you a new sidekick?”

You can hear the grin in his voice and you pull back from his chest, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Don’t tease me, Mat,” you murmur, heart pounding wildly. He’d said about trying again earlier, but you weren’t really sure if he was serious.

“Not teasing you, Squeaks,” he replies, the familiar nickname falling from his lips warmly. At this point, he uses it more than your given name, the curse of those damn Nikes. Mat grips your chin in between his thumb and index finger and tilts it up a little more so he can bend his head and kiss you sweetly. “Let’s give it another try and if…well, if not, we can look more into surrogacy again.”

Your head bobbles a nod and your heart swoops a little in your chest, the excited/nervous fizz of Mat’s words making you feel a little dizzy. Baby making is a land mine sometimes for your brain, but right now all you know is that everything in your body is screaming for your husband to give you another baby.

Mat’s grip on your chin tightens briefly and he kisses you again, lacing your fingers with his to drag you back to the car. You skip along behind him, laughter fighting to escape your lips.

“Should we make this one in the bedroom?” Mat teases, holding open the door for you. His hazel eyes twinkle with mischief. “Or in the shower like T?”

A flush works its way up over your chest and face, your entire body going hot. Mat laughs at the expression on your face and you mutter, “we don’t know it was the shower.”

“Right, could’ve been the back seat of the car or the couch or in Bo’s bathroom,” Mat’s eyes dance, his smile wide and shit-eating.

You can’t help but smile back at him, electric delight working its way through your veins.

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal x you #mat barzal fic #nhl fic

386 notes · View notes

luffington · 3 months

Note

i need stoner!aokiji fic PLEASE

✧.* art credit!

➤ pairing: aokiji (kuzan) x afab!reader

➤ word count: 836

➤ warnings: drug use, established relationship, pre-timeskip aokiji, cockwarming, nipple play, oral (f receiving), temperature play (it's inevitable), voyeurism, brief mention of kizaru x reader

sorry i took forever to write this... i'm STARVED for aokiji content with where i am in the anime right now but he showed up for 5 seconds in a filler arc so now i'm ready to go :3

written in headcanon-ish bullet format!

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Aokiji is laid-back and lazy all the time so it's hard to tell when he's stoned or not. Sometimes you'll come back to your shared place at Navy HQ to find the entire house reeking of weed, your boyfriend relaxing on the couch with his long legs spread wide and smoke pouring from his lips. He greets you with a casual "yo" and offers you his half-smoked blunt.

He is canonically a boobs man. You sit in his lap, cockwarming his massive dick, as he slips one of his big hands under your bra to fondle your right tit like a stress ball, squeezing and kneading at the soft skin.

He peers over your shoulder to skim the daily newspaper with hazy, unfocused eyes. Pretends to glance at the Navy papers he's supposed to look over (his ass is NOT reading!). Eventually, he gives up and pulls off your shirt and bra to really play with your tits.

Grabbing them hard enough for flesh to spill out between the cracks of his fingers, rolling them around and jiggling them. His chilly breath tickles your ear as his cold fingers tweak your nipples until they're stiff. He twists one harshly to hear you gasp, then chuckles and soothes it by rubbing his thumb gently over the areola.

When you inevitably get cotton mouth, he pushes two fingers between your lips and lets you swirl your tongue around them as if they're ice cubes. If it gets really bad, he'll actually create ice for you to suck on. Any part of him inside you turns him on, even if it's from his abilities.

Lazy man does drug that makes him lazier… he is horizontal the entire night. Good thing you love sitting on his face!

Aokiji’s strong hands grip your thighs and hold you flush against his face, drowning himself in your wet cunt. He slurps noisily at your juices, licking and kissing all over your vulva. Makes sure to wrap his plush lips around your clit, tonguing at the sensitive bud and sucking on it like his life depends on it.

Every sensation is intensified by the eternal iciness of his body. You cry out his name as he fucks you with his cold, slick tongue. You can’t help but grind on his face, losing yourself to pleasure and the haziness of marijuana. You almost feel bad for practically suffocating him until he groans, “Just like that, baby. Ride my face with that cute little pussy.”

He moans when you cum, slick gushing all over his lips and chin. Your chest heaves as you crawl off of him with shaky legs and plop down on the bed next to him. “Shit. Delicious as always, baby,” he drawls as he grabs a new blunt and lights it. “Alright, hop on my dick.”

You roll your eyes — he’s just so romantic. You’d already ridden him reverse cowgirl style after he got tired of cockwarming, but his dick was back at full hardness just from eating your pussy. You don’t think he even touched himself during it.

So you do as he asks, the weed making you especially horny, anyways. Wispy smoke pours from your parted lips as you lazily grind on his fat cock, stretching your insides deliciously and filling you up so good.

Slow and lazy sex is kinda his thing, unless he’s riled up from a particularly difficult assignment. (And even then, he has time to calm down on his lethargic bike ride home. You think it’s just an excuse to fuck you dumb.)

Aokiji sits up on his elbows to suck your nipples messily, spit running down the swell of your breast. Making obscene slurping noises that have your eyes rolling back into your head. When he gets close, he thumbs your clit in tight circles to make sure you cum together.

You moan and throw your head back as your third orgasm of the night washes over you. He lets out the deepest, sexiest moan as his cum fills you up to the brim.

He’s snoring two minutes later. You shuffle to get out of bed and grab a snack, but his strong arms wrap around your waist, spooning you from behind. Guess you’re stuck there!

Kizaru is his dealer (the true stoner king of the Marines) and somehow always gets the highest quality weed. He usually comes over for a smoke sesh with you and Aokiji when he gets a new strain he thinks you'll enjoy. He likes to watch the two of you fuck, sitting across the room watching attentively from behind his sunglasses and palming the fat bulge in his pants. Sometimes he asks to join in. It's up to you to decide -- Aokiji doesn't care either way, as long as one of your tight holes is wrapped around his cock.

(Akainu always screams at them when they show up to work high. Neither of them care. Threatens to snitch to Sengoku but Kizaru sold him an ounce last week so 🤷‍♀️)

#marijuana exists in the op universe bc i said so #request #mine #my fics #anon #aokiji x reader #aokiji smut #kuzan x reader #kuzan smut #aokiji #kuzan #one piece x reader #one piece smut #kizaru x reader

218 notes · View notes

perfectsunlight · 3 months

Text

( 𝟮𝟴 ) ✏ 𝘄𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗮 𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 (𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗳 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻)

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: none

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀: 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘃𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲

“what are you wearing?” minjeong said slowly, brows furrowed as she set her bag down and took a seat in front of you. she was used to your usual overdressed sense of style, but this was entirely different today.

you raised your eyebrows at the president before moving your hair to show your outfit off more. “do you not like it?” the two of you had agreed to meet at a cafe near the university since jennie had an at home interview today and they wouldn’t be able to hold their session at their usual spot. soft jazz played in the establishment while minjeong got settled in her seat.

the blonde’s eyes scanned your ensemble as her confusion deepened. she gently shook her head before turning her attention to her book bag, unzipping it as she spoke.“it’s not that i don’t like it. it’s just unexpected. did you have something special planned today?”

you glanced at your watch, biting your lip in thought. “well, actually, yes. i’m going out after we’re done.”

minjeong blinked, her expression shifting from confusion to surprise. “isn’t your exam review tomorrow morning? you’ll be tired.”

you shrugged nonchalantly before rolling your eyes. “you sound like my sister.”

smu’s president forced a chuckle, her fingers fumbling with the zipper of her bag. “i just want you to do well,” she said softly, her eyes avoiding yours. “your hair looks cool.” you said as casually as possible, not even looking at the girl while you complimented her.

the blonde felt her face heat up slightly before mumbling a quick ‘thanks’ as she handed you a pencil. “so where are you going?”

you smiled, a hint of excitement in your eyes. “i have a date.”

minjeong didn’t know why her heart sank, though she managed to keep her expression neutral. “oh, that sounds nice,” she said, forcing a small smile. “who is this mystery person?”

“is this an interrogation, president?” you snickered as you adjusted your top. the other girl laughed, though it felt hollow. “because i need to know if i’m still driving you home tonight,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “i like having a plan.”

you rolled your eyes playfully. “well, don't worry, you won’t have to.” your hands flipped open your notebook and slid it to minjeong. it was customary to start your sessions with minjeong grading the homework she gave to you the previous session.

minjeong took the notebook, her eyes scanning the pages, but her mind was elsewhere. she forced herself to focus, scribbling notes and comments in the margins. the usual rhythm of your sessions provided a temporary distraction, but the thought of you on a date kept creeping back into her mind.

her gut feeling told her it was wonyoung. she didn’t like the feeling of wony going on a date with you. not because she liked you or anything, but because the taller girl wasn’t a good person.

well, that was minjeong’s logic anyway.

the usual session proceeded like normal, with you diving into the material and minjeong guiding you through the concepts. despite the concepts you were still struggling to understand, you both managed to focus and make progress.

your work always felt easier to do when she was present. minjeong truly was gifted, and you could see it in everything she did.

as the time neared 7:30, minjeong took out a red pen and started writing you some practice problems. “am i driving you to your date?” she said as a half joke, but also a half real question. you chuckled and shook your head. “no, she’s picking me up here.”

“wonyoung?” the president questioned in a manner as nonchalant as she could muster. your swift nod was the only answer you gave.

minjeong’s stomach churned, but she forced a smile. “alright then. i hope it goes well.” she slid your notebook back across the table to you and put her pen away.

“thanks,” you said, giving her a grateful smile. “thank you for your help, again.”

minjeong nodded as she rose to pack her bag, but didn’t leave her seat. “are you going on a date too?” you teased as you noticed the other girl hadn’t left yet and it was already close to 7:45.

minjeong laughed lightly, shaking her head. “no, no date for me tonight. i just want to make sure you’re okay before i leave.”

you appreciated her concern, but tried to downplay it. “i’ll be fine, really. jennie didn’t pay you to babysit me.” you joked, earning a raised eyebrow from the blonde. “i’d rather not upset your sister.”

you glanced at your phone, checking for any messages from wonyoung, but there were none. “everything okay?” she asked, trying to keep her voice casual. you sighed, putting your phone down. “she’s late. maybe she got held up?”

minjeong bit her lip, feeling a mix of anger and sadness for you. “i’m sure she’ll be here soon,” she said, though she wasn’t entirely convinced. “try calling her?”

and so you did, only to be left with dial tones and a voicemail greeting.

“she’s probably driving,” you said quickly and put your phone down again. minjeong hummed in feigned agreement, already having a feeling that wonyoung would not be coming.

another fifteen minutes passed, and minjeong’s concern grew. you kept glancing at your phone, checking the time and your messages. it was clear that wonyoung wasn’t coming, and your initial optimism was long gone.

finally, you sighed, slipping your phone back into your bag. “i guess she’s not coming,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing to hide the hurt in your voice.

minjeong’s heart broke at the tone in your voice. any other day, she would make fun of you or crack a joke. maybe even laugh at you. however, today she felt like just being supportive.

to be honest, she never wanted to see you upset. and to see you so disappointed over a girl who wasn’t worth it? it broke her heart.

“we can just go out instead.” the blonde suggested as she rose from her chair and swung her bag over her shoulder. you raised an eyebrow at the girl, smirking slightly as you also stood.

“like a date?”

“no, just like how we always go out.” the president quickly responded as she held the door open for the both of you to walk. “you’re holding my door open? seems like a date to me.” minjeong’s blush only deepened before she rolled her eyes at you. “you know what, i’m taking you home.” minjeong huffed in annoyance. a grin crawled onto your face as you decided to keep teasing the president.

“are you going to open my car door too?”

“i’m actually going to lock it so you can’t get in.”

𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧: @silantryoo @forever-in-the-sky2 @rosiehrs @urfriendlylocalidiot @chaewonluvsme @zhivaxo @baebeefyburrito @jisooftme @winterlve @mina1vr @rgxjsss @uzumakioden @bexisbomb @tzuyuscloud @cwpiqwon @dream-chasers-things @demtions @sewiouslyz @jeindall777

@writingficsblog @ad0rechuu @lauxymy4 @awkwardtoafault @popstaryunjin @hibernatinghamster @tocupid @myothegreat @yerevies @alexxis10 @sighsam @ddeulgiheree @kikelikesmc @ddoxhan @justalittledissociation @jenaissantex @captivq @lea-pg @skisk1 @justme-idle @neuftaeng

CLOSED.

#smau #kpop smau #aespa smau #aespa x reader #winter x reader #minjeong x reader #wlw #crack fic #kpop crack #fluff #the variable #perfectsunlight

200 notes · View notes

lincolndjarin · 10 months

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty six : crucifixion

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 12.7k

summary : judgement day.

warnings: major character death, above canon typical violence, very brief references to suicide, torture, body horror (briefly), feelings of despair, blood, wounds, general kodo grossness, vomit (reader vomits several times, it is never described in detail), language, angst, brief smut, pregnancy, death, reader is not doing well in this like she's at a breaking point, i may have missed some so feel free to let me know.

a/n: please read the warnings on this chap! it's the most serious of the bks updates, definitely a bit more intense than the rest. gonna work on getting 27 out within the next few day. i've been terrified of releasing this chapter since i started writing it so once i post this i'm going to dig a hole and sit in it and hide for a while lmao.

i changed my editing style so if there's spelling errors lmk!! apologies in advance!!

“My room is too big.”

He bursts into genuine peals of laughter and you gently smack his arm.

“Don’t laugh, it’s a serious issue! My room is enormous.” You’re giggling along with him now, it’s the hardest you’ve ever heard him laugh. You both just laugh for a few minutes, as if each other's company is the most amusing thing in the world.

Once your giggles fizzle out you wait another moment before breaking the silence.

“Where did you grow up?” You can’t see him but you can sense where he sits in the darkness, you crawl forward so you’re sitting between his legs, your own legs wrap around his waist. “I’m just curious.”

“Aq Vetina.” You can’t recall anything about the planet. You aren’t even sure you’ve heard of it.

“Do you remember your parents well? You don’t talk about them very much.” You put your hands on his shoulders, ever so slowly moving them up to his neck until you’re cupping his face.

“I’ll never forget them.” He whispers.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We can’t change the past.” You rub your nose against his, bumping them together as you hum and nod. “My mother loved ships. We didn’t travel, we never had a reason to, but she would take me outside and we’d watch ships fly past. I could never comprehend how she knew the name for all of them, it blew my mind.” You wrap your arms around his neck, staying silent in hopes that he’ll continue, he so rarely speaks so much. “My father worked a lot but he always made time for us, he was always home in time to say goodnight to me. He was always around when I needed him, he always provided for us. On his day off he’d spend the whole day cooking, I’d sit on the kitchen counter and tell him what my mother and I had done that week. When she’d come home we’d all eat dinner together.”

“You sound like you were a happy child.” You can’t help but smile.

“I never had reason to be otherwise.” He says it so matter of factly that you don’t doubt it for a second. He was loved. It only makes you smile wider.

“What were you like, as a child?”

“Well behaved.” You immediately begin laughing once more.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it. My mother homeschooled me, she always made sure I had manners. I wasn’t particularly athletic or talkative so I didn’t play with other kids a lot. It was just me and mama.” He sounds far away, it makes you want to hold him close and never let him go.

“So what did you do all day?” Your tone has softened significantly.

“I would sew.”

“Be serious.” He’s the one who laughs now at the disbelief in your voice.

“I am! I would sit with my mother after my lessons and we’d sew.” His fingertips dance along the back of your neck as he reminisces.

“What kinds of things?” You don’t tease. When you really think about it you suppose such a hobby is fitting for him. A task that requires precision and care.

“I would help her make clothes and blankets that she would sell most days. On the weekends she’d let me do whatever I wanted so I would practice my embroidery.”

“My heart is actually about to explode out of my chest, you’re so cute.” You put on a mocking tone but the thought of such a thing really does make your heart clench. “Little Din Djarin stitching his name into his clothes.”

“You’re a cruel woman.” He leans forward, knocking his forehead against yours, almost as if he were reprimanding you.

“What sorts of things would you embroider?” Your tone goes back to genuine, you could listen to him talk about himself for days and you’d never get bored.

“Whatever my mother wanted. I would ask her what I should do and then I’d stitch it onto her blanket or the hem of her skirt. Mostly flowers, she loved daisies.” You’re pretty sure one of your ovaries literally popped at the thought of a little boy with dark curls and big brown eyes sitting beside his mother and embroidering a daisy onto her skirt. Your heart flutters a bit as you think of the necklace he got you. The silver outline of a flower you now realize is a daisy. “If he was ever gone for more than one night for work my father would bring her daisies, one for each day he was away.”

“Do you still know how?”

“I used to fix Grogu’s clothes when he ripped them but I haven’t done much else since I was a boy. He says it with finality but you carry on, not wanting him to stop talking.

“What were their names? Your parents?”

“Clara and Arin Djarin.”

“Those are pretty names.”

“What was it like for you? You said you had seven siblings right?”

“Eight actually.” You think of them now. There were eight of you and your parents' love for all of you combined wasn’t even a tenth of how much Din’s parents loved him.

“Do you like having a big family?” He lifts you off of his lap, laying you back down as he crawls on top of you, laying against your chest.

“I love it. I miss my siblings everyday, do you think we’ll be able to visit them someday?”

“If it’s safe to, of course we will.” He tilts his head, if you weren’t in darkness he’d be looking at you.

“I wish they had visited here. They would have loved you.”

“You think?”

“Are you kidding me? The younger ones would adore you.” You tangle your finger in his hair, scratching his scalp. “Kids just naturally like you.”

“They just haven’t learned to fear me.” You frown when he says it like a fact.

“I think it’s more than that.”

“Yeah?” The hopeful tilt to his voice has you leaning down to press a kiss into his hair.

“Kids are intuitive, they can sense that you’re a good person.” He tenses up as you tell him he’s a good person. You know exactly what he’s thinking about now, how he punched your husband and then refused to leave.

Neither one of you wants to talk about that though, not today.

“What kind of room would you want? Since your current room isn’t to your liking.” He’s quick to change the subject and you let him.

“In all honesty, I like the cabin, I wish we could just live there.” You run your fingers through his curls as you think about it, gently pulling through any tangles.

“My cabin?” His voice is full of uncertainty as he pulls back a bit.

“It’s nice.” You feel a bit defensive, you consider the cabin to be the closest thing you have to a home. “Can you imagine getting to stay on Naboo? We could spend our mornings walking the market.” You rest your hand on the back of his neck now. “We could get jobs in the city, and then at night we’d come home.”

“To the cabin?” He still sounds rather skeptical of your hypothetical future.

“I’d cook dinner, you’d do the chores.”

“The cabin’s a bit small for us.”

“We’d make it a bit bigger, add a few bedrooms, we don’t need that much space.”

“A few?” He turns his head, his lips brush against your collar briefly as he kisses you there, freezing up when you speak again.

“At least two, one for us and then some for any little Djarin’s who might need space.” With that he sits up entirely, his legs straddle your stomach.

“Little Djarin’s?”

“And Grogu, he would come live with us as well.”

“You’d want him to live with us?”

“Of course, he’s a little Djarin.” Your hands rest on his thighs now as he seemingly ponders above you. He hums to himself in silence for a moment and you can’t help but grin at how seriously he’s taking all of this.

“How many?” He finally speaks again and you laugh at the bluntness of his question.

“Kids?”

“How many would you want?”

“You go first.” You haven’t ever talked about this sort of thing so you want to gauge his answer first so you don’t scare him too much with all the kids talk.

“Maybe five? Or six.”

“Six?” Your voice pitches up immediately and you feel a rumble in his chest as he laughs.

“Or five.”

“How about two, counting Grogu.” Turns out you didn’t need to worry about scaring him off.

“How about three?” Three is manageable.

“Counting Grogu?”

“Counting Grogu.” He seems satisfied with that.

“I suppose we could have three, you’re the one who has to build all the extra bedrooms.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I’d work at the library and you’d work in a shipyard, we’d take turns staying home with the kids.” You pull him back to you, taking his hands and dragging him to lay his head on your chest once more.

“I’ve got enough savings, neither one of us has to work if you’d like.” It sends a twinge of pain to your heart how real this conversation has become, knowing that this exact dream isn’t possible.

You could always make parts of it real.

Someday.

“I’d want to work, to get out of the house, but you could stay home if you’d like.”

“When they’re still ik’aad, at least for the first few years I’d want to be with them.” He’s going to be a wonderful father.

“Then I’d work, not long hours, just enough to get me out of the house, when I come home I’d give you a break, you could do the shopping and I’d watch the little’s.”

“We’d go as a family, I wouldn’t want ‘a break.’”

“You’d want to wrangle three kids in the markets?” You scoff in disbelief but he continues to sound completely serious.

“They’d be well behaved.” You seriously doubt that.

“What about either one of us makes you think our children will be well behaved? Is Grogu well behaved?”

“We’ll manage.”

“They’ll be wild.” They will, not they would.

“And smart.” He sits up again, hovering above you to give you a quick kiss.

“And happy.” There isn’t a doubt in your mind that your children would be happy with Din as their father.

“You’d really want to live here? I could build us a house anywhere.”

“I like Naboo, at least everything outside of the castle. I don’t even mind the castle, I just don’t care for the people inside it.” It’s true, somewhere along the way this place grew on you immensely. You love the city and the people in it. “And they’d get to play in the garden.”

“I would build you a cabin anywhere you wanted, and I’d plant you a new garden.” He kisses along your cheeks and forehead as he speaks.

“You wouldn’t need to plant me a garden if we lived here.” You insist.

“We can’t live here, mesh’la.” He rubs a small circle with his thumb against your cheek. “This is too serious now, we’re supposed to be relaxed today.”

“When did we agree on that?” You muster up a weak laugh.

“It was a silent mutual agreement.”

“I’m plenty relaxed.” You mumble. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his stubble tickling you as you let out an airy giggle.

“I’m actually very tense and I think we should take a break from all this talking and take care of that.” He mumbles against your shoulder.

“Oh?”

“Mhmm.” He emphasizes his point by pressing his erection against your hip, you hadn’t even realized that this is where he was going with that.

“How long have you been waiting to jump me?”

“When we started talking about the five kids I was gonna put in you.” He continues to nip at your neck and shoulders as he speaks.

“Skipping the agreed upon three and going straight to five already? You’re not even going to attempt to negotiate for four?”

“So you’re open to four?” He pulls back and you can hear his smile.

“Let’s start with one and go from there.”

“Right now?” His hips stutter down a bit against yours.

“Maker, you’re insatiable.” You both burst into another fit of laughter.

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“I could get pregnant, and considering the lack of sex I’ve had with my husband I’m sure that might raise a few eyebrows.”

“It would never get to that point, when we’re in the clear with this whole Kodo mess I’m getting you out of here.”

“Like… actually leaving Naboo?”

“Exactly like that. I’m gonna take you far away from here when this is over, gonna keep you all for myself.” His hands move down, giving your hips a squeeze.

“I’m already yours.” You laughed, rolling over to be on top of him. He’s right, if you’re going to leave anyway then what’s the worst thing that could happen?

You never talked about that night after that.

When everything sorted itself out you realized how crazy your fear had made you. You couldn’t just leave. At least that’s what you’d told yourself, now you feel like an idiot for not holding him to his words. It wasn’t realistic, you both knew actually leaving would take so much more preparation than a few whispered ideas during a time where neither one of you was in any position to be making such promises.

It was just talk.

Lysa came to get you from the dining room.

After everyone left you had no motivation to move, you just stood there, frozen in time. After a few hours she found you, she had taken your hand and walked you back to your chambers. She held your hand, she kept you upright when you threatened to crumble. And when you felt a wave of nausea ripple through you she rushed you to the fresher, a hand on your back as you threw up all over again.

You sat breathlessly on the tile, Lysa rubbing your back.

“Gods, I’ve been nauseous since the wedding. Even before everything fell apart.” It’s the first words you’ve spoken since they took Din, your stomach is still churning. “This has never happened before.” You groan, you’ve had many moments of upset throughout your life, but none that made you physically ill. Lysa looks almost painfully worried.

“Ma’am… is there a chance you might be…”

Kriff.

You never talked about that night after that.

Maybe you should have.

You both did a lot of things during those days. You had been so angry, and he had done everything in his power to ease that anger, to keep both of you as happy as someone could be in your situation.

You shouldn’t have used that as an excuse to be reckless.

“I’d like to go to bed.”

“Of course.” She helps you to your feet, walking you back to your room, you turn to her one last time before you close the door.

“I’m sorry. Elaine never should have gotten involved in all this.” You’d trade places with her in a heartbeat if you could.

“It’s not your fault.” She truly seems to believe that.

Except it is. Elaine never would have found herself in this situation if she hadn’t so often been helping the two of you keep your secret.

“Goodnight, Lysa.”

“Goodnight, princess.”

You lay on the bed, unable to bring yourself to sleep in the closet.

It’s cold. Colder than Hoth, as you stare at the ceiling in your far too big bed in your far too big room. Even bigger now that it’s just you.

You let your hand roam down your torso to rest on your stomach.

Just you, hopefully.

☆

You’re now having nightly dinners with Kodo.

You don’t get any respite from him, you just want to stay in bed. You’re nauseous and tired and your head hasn’t stopped spinning since that night. A million thoughts a minute.

Where is he?

Is he okay?

What the fuck can I do about it?

Mostly that.

The worst part is your lack of a plan. If the roles were reversed Din would have already rescued you and you’d be living happily ever after.

But that isn’t how your story is going. Instead you are alone, with no scheme on how to get to him. It’s only been three days but it’s driving you insane, you have never known such hopelessness, it’s maddening. To sit alone in your room all day, staring at the ceiling until Lysa comes to dress you for dinner. Neither one of you ever speaks, afterall, what would you say to each other?

“I’m sorry the love of your life had been sentenced to die?”

How morbid.

Not that you’re above being morbid.

You think about it often. How easy it would be to drive your dinner knife into Kodo’s throat. You’re seated beside him now at dinner, both of you at the head of the table, joined by the rest of his family.

The thought of killing him is the only thing that brings you peace these days. You’ve never once in your life been violent until now. Din is good. He’s a good man. In every way he is the opposite of your husband yet Din is the one locked away, Maker knows where, while Kodo is being rewarded.

It doesn’t make you mad, it makes you furious.

It makes you want to poison his wine.

But you don’t have poison.

And you can’t put yourself in danger. Because you feel fundamentally different, and even if you refuse to think that such a thing is possible you know you wouldn’t just be putting yourself in danger. There’s more at stake now.

That’s what you tell yourself to stay calm, a feat that is getting harder by the minute as you’re sat beside Kodo who is currently bragging about how he defeated a Mandalorian.

“They aren’t as strong as you think they are. Under the armor they’re weak, pathetic.”

It took six battle droids to keep him down. You didn’t even get near him.

“Some people just need to be taught a lesson, don’t touch what isn’t yours.” He sneers and the rest of the table erupts into laughter. “I certainly taught that horned bitch a lesson as well, you all should have seen what they brought me last night.”

You perk up, this is the only thing they’ve said in days that truly matters to you. You’ve heard nothing about the current state of either of them until now.

“What did they do to Elaine?” Everyone’s head turns to you, all their expressions look as if you’ve announced something treasonous but Kodo smiles as if he were explaining something to a child.

“She was properly punished, the way someone who observed such a crime with no intervention should be.” He puts his hand over yours when he says it.

You don’t ask for any follow up.

You don’t think you could stomach it, so you stay silent for the rest of your meal. When you’re finished you stand, the rest of the table is starting to pour more drinks but you simply lean down, mumbling something about being tired before giving Kodo a quick kiss on the cheek and dismissing yourself.

You’re waiting for the night where he joins you in your chambers, after all his father is dead, but it has yet to happen. He had told you that once he was king he would be in need of heirs but he seems happy enough with his pleasure houses and you’re more than grateful for the women you entertain him so you don’t have to.

So you return to your chambers alone, peeling off your gown before burying yourself under the covers.

Sleep evades you as you toss and turn. You aren’t even tired, there’s too much going on in your mind, there’s no room for exhaustion. After about an hour you manage to drift in and out of unconsciousness, earning a brief reprieve from your anxieties until a sharp knocking has you jolting upright.

You don your robe, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you rush to the door, you’re too tired to wonder who might even be bothering you at such an hour as you pull the door open.

Lysa?

“We have to hurry, ma’am.” She grabs your arm, frantically tugging you into the hall.

“Lysa? What are you doing? Are you okay?”

“I am fine, but we don’t have much time.”

“Surely you have enough to tell me where we are going.”

“Do you want to see him or not?”

Din.

You nod, taking her hand as he rushes onward, stopping at each hall to peer around the corners until you make your way to a servants stairwell, skipping several steps in your descent until you run out of stairs. You’ve never been down here, you didn’t even know there were dungeons until recently.

It makes your stomach twist in knots the moment you stare into the darkness.

“Are there no guards?” You whisper, squeezing her hand.

“Not for the next hour, I’ve made sure of it.” She begins walking down the poorly lit corridor, pulling you along behind her.

The stone floor is damp and it smells of mildew. Your bare feet are already freezing after just a few steps.

Every cell you pass is lit from the outside with a hanging lantern, they’re mostly empty, but you catch glimpses of movement out of the corner of your eye every now and then. In all honesty you’re doing your best to take in as little as possible, you don’t want to think about Din being down here in such a place, but there’s one element you can’t ignore.

The wailing.

Someone is weeping, a low, sorrowful song filling the vast maze of halls and you realize quickly you’re heading in its direction, Lysa tenses beside you as you continue on. You’re about to turn one more corner when she abruptly stops, turning to face you.

“He needs to eat.” She removes a fistful of rations from her apron pocket, shoving them into your hands.

“He hasn’t?” He’s been down here for three days.

“He won’t… let me.” You pause, cocking your head to the side and she gives you an apologetic look when she turns. “He won’t let me uncover his face.”

Oh.

“I’ll feed him.” You nod slowly, tucking them into your own pockets before turning the corner. The contents of the cell immediately on your right have you stumbling backwards but Lysa is not swayed, pulling a key from her pocket, unlocking the door quickly before handing it to you.

“He’s two cells down, on your right.” She doesn’t look at you as she rushes in, pulling a roll of bandages from her dress. “Shh… it’s okay, I’m here.” Her voice goes soft as she kneels beside Elaine. You can’t help it as you step into the entryway of the cell.

Well, you’ve found the source of the wailing.

She’s sat on a cot, curled in on herself as Lysa carefully peels back a series of soiled bandages from her face.

“I’ve got you, it’s just me.” She continues to make an attempt to sooth a rather hysterical Elaine as she peels back the final layer of bandages and your stomach flips. “You’re okay, love, I need to change these.” You don’t know how Lysa is so calm, even in the darkness you can see the extent of her wounds. Now you know what they brought Kodo last night.

Both eyes.

“She was properly punished, the way someone who observed such a crime with no intervention should be.”

Oh gods.

You’re worried you may collapse as you watch Lysa tend to her with no hesitation, cleaning them with a careful hand before she begins to redress them. You can’t bear to watch any longer as Elaine begins sobbing once more. You try desperately to force the sight of your mutilated friend from your mind as you count down two more cells before quickly fumbling for the lock, letting it hit the floor as you take the lantern outside the door off its hook, bringing it into the dark room.

It isn’t like Elaine’s cell.

There’s no bed or interior light, it’s terribly dark and fetid, his cell running deeper than her’s. It takes a few steps for you to finally illuminate the room enough to see him.

Maker.

What have they done to your Din?

You don’t hear Elaine anymore, there isn't a single thing that could distract you from the scene in front of you. There is nothing but the sight of your kar’ta. There’s too much for you to worry about, you don’t even know where to start, you’re frozen in place, a small part of your brain refuses to recognize the man before you as Din at all. He shouldn’t look like this.

Armorless.

They’ve stripped him of any clothing you recognize, the thought alone makes you nearly lose your dinner.

They took his helmet, replacing it with a linen sack.

Did they see his face?

You briefly have to shut your eyes, taking a deep breath as you take in the rest of him. His clothes are too thin, he must be freezing, they’ve dressed him in a cotton tunic and trousers that end just below the knee. You can see just how beaten and bruised he is. Unlike Elaine he’s in chains, kneeling on the floor with his hands shackled, taut above his head. You swallow the lump in your throat and finally crouch down in front of him, setting the lantern down beside you as you reach out to place a hand on his chest.

“Din…” Your voice cracks and the moment you come in contact with him he flinches back. Suddenly you know how Lysa held it together so well with Elaine, she just had to. You can’t fall apart, who would care for him now if you did? “It’s me, just me. Just me.” You whisper and place a hand over his heart but withdraw it quickly when he trembles under your touch. You ache at the sight of it but more than anything you’re confused, it only takes a moment for you to realize the issue.

He doesn’t have his helmet. They’ve not only left him here blind, but deaf, of course any touch would frighten him.

He assumes you're here to harm him.

You lean in, careful not to come in contact with him as you speak clearly and loudly.

“Din?” His trembling stops instantly. You find it a bit troublesome how much worse his hearing seems to have gotten in such a short time, you’re half tempted to reach under the bag to make sure he still has his ears.

“Sarad?” Oh, Din. His voice is terribly small and it sends you forward, wrapping your arms around him as you pull him into an unreciprocated embrace.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You make sure to speak loud enough for him before pulling back, placing your hands against the fabric covering his face.

“Are you okay?” He coughs a bit as he asks and you almost laugh at how ridiculous the question is considering the state he’s in. Are you okay?

Technically no.

But far better than he’s doing.

“I’m perfectly fine, what can I do for you? Are you hurting?” You feel his face through the bag as you look down across his body. It doesn’t look like there’s been any permanent damage outside of a pretty nasty cut on one of his legs.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Now’s not the time to play the hero, Din.” He flinches a little and you calm your tone immediately. What the hell did they do to him? “Just let me help.”

“How’d you get down here?”

“Lysa, she says you aren’t eating.”

“She’d have to lift my- the bag to do it.” He sounds apologetic, as if you could ever fault him for following his creed.

“It’s okay… may I?” You bring your hands to the hem of the bag but his head turns sharply.

“I- I don’t want you to look.”

You have no response. He’s always wanted you to look.

“I just, I don’t think you wanna see the condition I’m in. I don’t want your only memories of my face to be this.” He whispers when you don’t respond.

You should have looked when he asked you to. You should have done a lot of things differently.

You shouldn’t have waited so long to look.

You shouldn't have waited so long to tell him you loved him.

You should have just let yourself love him. Why did you fight it for so long? It seems silly now. If you could do it all again you would have just taken his helmet off the first night you met him and you would have married him right then and there. You would have left Naboo that night.

And you would never keep any of it from him. You would tell him how important he is and how loved he is, you wouldn’t make him wait.

Even now you can’t help it though, censoring yourself out of fear. Do you tell him about how nauseous you get every morning? About the way Lysa stares at your belly when she does your makeup?

No.

It wouldn’t do either of you any good, not when he’s in this situation.

You take hold of the edges of the bag once more, gentler this time.

“I’ll close my eyes.” You lift the fabric completely off of him, setting it in your lap as you simultaneously shut your eyes. You keep one hand on his face, using your thumb to find the corner of his mouth as your other hand fumbles to open a ration bar. You feel him part his lips as you feed him. He’s barely chewing, eating quickly and swallowing most of it whole. “Have they fed you at all?” You whisper as he finishes the first bar in a matter of seconds, his teeth lightly scraping against your fingers before you withdraw them, tearing open another bar.

“No.” His voice is still soft as you go to feed him once more, opening each package until he’s eaten them all.

“Are you still hungry? I could see if Lysa has more.”

“I’m okay.” You let your head fall forward, resting your forehead on his.

“What else can I do for you?”

“Nothing. Being here is enough.”

If you had felt helpless before it was nothing compared to this. This is more than helplessness, it’s despair.

“I’m sorry.” You pull yourself further into his lap, wrapping your arms around him in the process.

“Hey… none of this is your fault.” It certainly feels like it is. Why does he keep comforting you when he’s the one shivering and alone down here?

“Please, there has to be something I can do to help you.”

“There is one thing.” You almost open your eyes, you're so relieved, you just want to ease his pain.

“Anything. I’ll do anything.”

“I need you to promise me you won’t look.”

“Won’t look?” Your eyes are already closed, you couldn’t look any less if you tried.

“When they do it. I don’t want you to see it- it won’t be pretty.”

When they separate his head from his body.

“I won’t.” You can’t deny him this, you’ll give him anything he wants. “Do you know how much I love you?” You whisper before leaning forward another inch to kiss him.

The question is genuine. It terrifies you to your core to think that he may not know just how much you love him.

“Of course sarad.” He murmurs against your lips until you let your head rest on his shoulder, fighting back tears.

What do you say now?

What do you say to a man condemned to death?

“I love you.” You mumble into the thin fabric of his tunic.

“I love you too.” After a moment more with him you hear metal jingling as Lysa locks Elaine's cell once more. You quickly pull back from him, pulling the bag back over his head, once you know he can’t see you anymore the tears flow freely. Lysa steps into the cell and you remove your robe, wrapping it around him, immediately he begins to protest.

“Mesh’la, you can’t leave this here.” His voice is strained and it makes you sick to think he started crying once he was out of sight as well.

“Please, y-you’re gonna freeze.”

“They’ll know you were here, sarad’ika.”

“Din…” You’re practically babbling as Lysa removes your robe from his shoulders, an apologetic look on her face as she grabs your arm.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but we need to go.” Tears sting your eyes as Lysa urges you to hurry but you don’t want to leave him, you want to stay, no matter the consequence. You pull away from her, wrapping your arms around his torso.

“You need to go.” His voice is urgent through the fabric as you cling to him tighter.

Would it be easier to just stay? Get caught and join him at the executioners? You’re genuinely considering it when you feel your stomach churn once more and you’re reminded of the exact reason why you can’t stay. Before you lose your nerve and shatter completely you lift the bag, just enough to give you an eyeful of his split lip and bruised jaw as you gently lean in and kiss him one more time.

Doing everything in your power to remember exactly what it feels like.

The curve of his lips and the shape of his chin, the overgrown stubble brushing against your skin as you press your face harder against his, desperation taking over as you taste salt on his lips. You hold him as long as you can, until you hear Lysa urging you to make haste once more.

“I love you.” You press your forehead to his through the fabric, feeling the familiar shape of his face against yours.

“I’ll always be yours.”

That was the last thing he was able to say before you let Lysa drag you out of the dungeons.

☆

It’s like everythings suddenly back to the beginning.

You wake up alone, you go to bed alone, and you wander the castle alone.

There is no plotting or scheming to free Din.

Even if you were a trained killer or bounty hunter, it would be more than difficult to get him out of the dungeon and on a ship off Naboo. It would be even harder to do so when you’re one of the most recognizable people on the planet.

He is buried deep beneath the ground and there is nothing you can do about it.

After all, you're just a doll.

You don’t know when it happened but all your clothes are blue again. Every dress Lysa fetches from the closet is a different shade of blue and all your nightgowns are the color of the sky. A personal brand put on you by Kodo. It’s clearly more than just a preference now, it’s a reminder to you and everyone else that you’re his.

And time blends.

You know a date was set right around the time you visited him. One week until Kodo’s coronation and two until the execution. His first public event after being crowned king will be a death sentence, how fitting.

So you wake.

And you sleep.

And you walk.

Kodo never replaces Din and you haven’t seen Leo since that night, so you’re completely alone. It’s like he’s rubbing in the fact that you’re powerless. There’s no need for you to have a guard, you can’t leave. If you tried you’d be escorted back in an instant.

You tried to convince Lysa to let you see him again last night.

“Please, just a few minutes-“

“I’m sorry ma’am, it’s just not possible. The only reason I was able to get you down there the first time was because the guard that usually lets me in was working nights, he won’t be working nights again until next month.”

Din won’t live to see next month.

“Is he eating?”

“He won’t let me-“

“You need to insist. Tell him I insist, and tell him you’ll close your eyes.”

She pins back a bit of your hair, leaving half up and half down. You both bask in the silence for a moment.

“I’ll make sure he eats.”

“Thank you.”

That had been the last conversation you had with Lysa.

She doesn’t come to dress you in the morning. You think nothing of it and dress yourself in the gown she’d laid out last night. It’s a bit difficult, putting your coronation gown on on your own but eventually you manage, when you’re fully dressed in the obscenely decadent blue fabric you begin to worry.

You have no reason to assume that everything is fine. It would actually make sense for this to be a worst case scenario situation, everything else in your life is right now.

You’re about to leave in search of her but you decide against it. Sitting at the vanity and doing your makeup as quickly as possible, the last thing you need to do right now is give Kodo a reason to be upset with you, you have to be presentable. You smear the shimmering blue eyeshadow across your lids before rushing out of your room.

The halls are full. Servants move quickly from room to room, cleaning every inch as you carefully push through the crowds, making a beeline towards the dining room.

Kodo is seething when you push open the large doors.

He stands at the end of the table, shoving an armored guard as the veins in his neck jut out in his rage.

“Where could she have possibly gone? She’s blind. You’re telling me some blind bitch outsmarted my entire guard?”

Your heart flutters at the thought.

They escaped.

Your hope is shattered the moment Kodo begins speaking again.

“At least we still have the Mandalorian… I want security tripled, guards stationed outside his cell at all times.” He continues grumbling for a moment until he realizes you’re there. “Happy coronation day dear wife! I’m afraid we’ve had a rough morning here, somehow in the night the Togruta girl escaped, do not fret, we’ll find her.”

God's you hope not.

Even if things are worse than ever regarding Din there is one flicker of light in that darkness. Lysa got Elaine out. Knowing that almost puts you at ease.

“Happy coronation day.” You actually manage a smile when you look at your husband, it’s weak but it’s genuine. You want to be mad that they didn’t help Din escape but you just can’t be. You know they most likely tried but if the roles had been reversed and you could only get one of them out you wouldn’t hesitate.

So there is no animosity. Just a flicker of happiness for them.

They got out.

☆

You were under the impression that a coronation was a happy event. Yet when you step out onto the castle steps it seems to be quite the opposite.

They look miserable.

All of their faces are sullen and dejected. How shocking, no one is excited about Kodo being crowned king. He didn’t have any of the outside of the castle decorated or made presentable in any way. No one reacts when Kodo reads from an ancient looking book until a crown is placed on his head.

A moment afterwards you’re instructed to kneel and a tiara is placed onto your head.

The audience is silent and you feel shame when you stare out at them.

Even if you don’t have very much power you still feel as if you’ve failed them. The feeling follows you when you’re directed to the dining hall with Kodo.

“I have a couple gifts for you, wife.” His twisted smile makes your stomach turn as you enter the dining hall, now decorated with blue and gray banners.

“A gift? You shouldn’t have, my king, I- I didn’t get you anything.” You feign remorse as you take a sip of the wine in front of you on instinct before spitting it back up into the cup.

“That’s more than okay, you’re my gift, sweet wife, all mine.” The thought of such a thing makes you sick, you smile despite yourself.

“That’s very kind.” You’ll only ever be Din’s. No amount of blue fabric and faux smiles can change that. He snaps his fingers and a large box is brought to you by a servant, they set it directly in front of you on the table. You look at Kodo who nods, sitting back in his chair as you stand, the box is wrapped in checkered blue paper, a large bow adorning the top. Your hands tremble a bit as you take hold of the edges of the ribbon, tugging on them until the bow slips free, much to your surprise the entire box falls open, the sides collapsing giving you an immediate view of the contents.

The silver, shimmering contents.

Din’s helmet.

Polished like new, it sits before you, and the room suddenly empties. It’s as if you are completely alone, despite all the eyes that are most definitely pinned on you right now. Your hands continue to shake as your fingers wrap around the beskar steel, like you would when you held Din’s face, lifting it to glare into the visor.

Empty.

You can’t help but stare at your own emptiness reflected back at you.

You want to hold it close, press it to your forehead but you’re snapped back to reality by the grating sound of Kodo’s voice breaking you from your focus on the helm between your hands.

“That’s only one of your presents, open the next one.” He hisses gleefully.

You set the helmet down, realizing there was another, much smaller box underneath it. Silently you scoop it up and cradle it in your hands. It’s a larger than a ring box, it just barely fits in your palm as you ever so gently open it, swinging the top open as if it were a tiny treasure chest.

Huh.

It takes a moment.

You aren’t exactly sure what it is you’re looking at at first but when it registers your entire body tenses up, your grip tightening on the gift box.

Bloody and pink, a tongue.

Of course you know better than to assume Kodo would give you any old tongue. This is a special someone’s tongue.

No, no, no, no, no.

You had loved his tongue before anything else.

He can’t do this, he cannot do this to you.

You had fallen for his sharp wit first, it was what drew you into him. His sweet words had won you back, his declaration of devotion.

Now you hold all of that in the palm of your hand.

“What do we say?” His nasally voice breaks through your mental anguish.

No.

“Come on, where are your manners?”

Please.

“Thank you.” Your whisper is nearly silent as you struggle to keep down the scream bubbling in your throat.

“What was that?”

You clear your throat.

“Thank you.”

He makes you take it with you. You don’t bother telling him you won’t be attending the coronation ball in a few minutes, it’s not like you’ll be missed.

In one arm you’re cradling his helmet, in the other the little blue box.

You set each one down carefully onto the bed, even if it’s a bit demented these are the only parts of him you have left. You stare at the little box.

You have never been hateful.

Kodo made you into this. You are full of hate, for most things at this point. You hate your husband, you hate your room, and most of all you hate the little blue box on the bed.

And the music starts.

It must be deafening in the hall for you to hear it from your room but it’s there, loud and demanding of your attention.

You’re moving before you even have a chance to think about it, in a few quick strides you’re standing beside the vanity, your hands gripping the top of the mirror as you pull it down in one swift motion, the contents spill everywhere and the glass shatters in an instant, shards splattering the floor but you take no time to process it.

You move on to the next thing.

You yank each drawer from the dresser, throwing them to the floor, clothes strewn about until it’s light enough for you to push the entire dresser over. In your frenzy you go about the room toppling every stupid fucking table over. So many fucking end tables in one room, and you throw everyone to the floor, trinkets and vases clattering to the ground as you destroy the room. You get a rush of adrenaline as you lift one of your nightstands and throw it against the wall leaving a small dent but more importantly the force of it makes anything hanging on the wall tumble to the floor, glass frames shatter.

Your chest heaves as you stare at the carnage.

And it isn’t enough.

Your face is wet with tears and your hands with blood from cuts you didn’t feel upon your skin as you tear open the closet door, the pile of blankets mock you from the floor, you grab them, your vision now blurry with tears as you pull them out of the closet, throwing them onto your bedroom floor. When you return to the closet you’re in a frenzy, you tear at the fabric before you, yanking each and every dress off their hangers, ripping what you can.

There is nothing else for you to do, so you destroy everything you can get your hands on until the only thing left untouched is your bed, left in pristine condition as you let out a small sob.

Maybe you are a hateful person now.

You feel as though you have every right to be at this point.

You step over the shard of glass, giving your bloody hands a glance before wiping them on your gown.

Happy coronation day.

You sit on the bed, your trembling fingers wrap around the helmet, now that you’re alone you waste no time to hold it against you face, until your body just gives up, too tired to stay awake anymore.

☆

A guard wakes you in the morning, knocking on your door, when you answer it they tell you Kodo requires your presence in his chambers.

You dress in a blue gown that you don’t look too closely at. Stopping at the fresher on the way, rinsing the dried gore from your palms, wincing as you clean your wounds. None of which seem too deep.

You want to cut Kodo’s tongue out, to make him feel it. But you know that sort of thing would be an impossible task. So you daydream about it as you walk. You’re more than displeased when you open the door and are greeted by Leodall. You hadn’t seen him since that night and from the looks of it he wasn’t expecting you. He swallows loudly when you step inside Kodo’s room.

Normally you’d be curious, you’d probably take a look around but your eyes refuse to focus on anything but Leo as you scowl at him.

“Why’d you do it?” You don’t hesitate to ask, you have no idea how quickly Kodo will be joining you.

He simply stares at you, shame apparent on his face.

“You owe me an explanation at the very least.” You cross your arms in front of your chest as he clears his throat.

“I thought he’d reward me.”

You laugh. A harsh dry sound

“What could he have possibly given you that you couldn’t have just asked me for?” Your gaze never softens and you’re practically seeing red as you stare at him.

“I thought he’d give me a lordship.”

You can’t help it as another crisp and pained laugh slips past your lips.

“You thought Kodo would raise your status? I thought you were supposed to be smart.” Is he an idiot? “He doesn’t see servants as people, if you wanted such a thing you could have asked me, maybe I could have done something.”

A glimmer of something similar to hope flashes through his eyes.

“Would you- would you consider doing so now?”

“You cannot be serious-” Your expression goes from fury to disbelief as you stand.

“It seemed worth asking.” He puts his hands up defensively as you storm up to him, poking a finger into his face.

“You slimy little weasel, it should be you on the chopping block, not him. If it were up to me I’d have them put your head on a spike.” The words pour out of you like venom.

“I would be nicer to me if I were you.” He sneers and your incredulity only grows. You can’t help it, you scoff in his face.

“I would rather die.” A part of you really means it.

“You might if you aren’t careful, I saved your life by letting Elaine and your Mandalorian take the fall, I could have told the king that you were a willing participant. I saw the two of you together, I read your little rules. He never forced himself on you. I wonder what Kodo might think about that.” You aren’t a fighter, you’ve never so much as thrown a punch in your life but you grab him by the collar of his shirt and slam him into the wall, the back of his head hits the stone and you don’t feel an ounce of remorse as you do so.

“Do it.” You tilt your head to the side, almost as if you’re taunting him. “Tell him.” Any of the confidence he briefly had is gone in an instant. “The moment you do I’ll tell him that you’re covering your tracks, and that you made a pass at me. I wonder how Kodo would reward you for trying to touch what’s his?” Leo’s head turns as you both hear Kodo’s piercing voice in the hall. You release your grip on his shirt, brushing off your gown as you turn towards the door. Kodo and three others make their way into the room as Leo coughs behind you.

“Dear wife, I have another gift for you.” He takes a step to the side, gesturing at a line of three people you don’t give so much as a glance. He doesn’t even seem to notice the obvious tension in the room. “A new staff!”

“I don’t need a new staff, I’m fine on my own.” You abandon the pleasantries. You’re in such a state of upset right now, what's the point?

“You’re the queen now, staff is required. These three will replace the ones you've lost in a week, until then Leodall will be training them intensively to tend to your every need. Two guards will also be assigned to you but I promise they will be much less loathsome than your Mandalorian.”

All five of them will be trained to keep an eye on you. To report back to Kodo, after everything with Din you should have known he’d keep you on a shorter leash.

You barely look at them.

You hate them.

You shouldn’t, they’ve done nothing wrong, but you hate them.

You give each one a quick up and down, naming them in your mind.

A BD-3000 droid commands the most authority just based on how she stands so you mentally note her as Elaine's replacement. You’ll call her new Elaine.

New Lysa is a pasty young blonde woman with rosy cheeks. You truly wonder how well informed she has been on your circumstance. She’s smiling from ear to ear and seemingly couldn’t be happier to be here.

And new Leo is somehow even more nervous looking than actual Leo, practically shaking like a leaf at the sight of you. The bags under his eyes are worse than your own. A lanky thing with messy brown hair.

There’s no reason for you to fight this, Kodo always gets his way so why bother. So you nod. You don’t pretend to be grateful this time, instead you shove your way past all of them, content to return to your room and never leave.

☆

The morning of the execution comes before you’re ready for it.

Of course you didn’t sleep last night, how could you?

You dress yourself, apparently your new staff isn’t starting until tomorrow, not that you mind another day to yourself. You manage to find something that isn’t blue, a gray dress trimmed with gold, the closest thing you’ll find to funeral attire. No one else will dress with any respect for him but they can’t stop you. Your vanity is destroyed so you don’t bother with your hair or your makeup, you simply don’t care enough.

For the most part you feel nothing when you open the door, only emptiness until you look down.

Someone left you a small vase of flowers.

You pick them up, taking a closer look but your heart skips a beat when you do so.

Daisies.

After a few short breaths you throw the vase into the wall across from your door, tiny shards of porcelain fly everywhere as two servants at the end of the hall give you a look of horror. Your shoes crunch over the remains of it as you make your way down the hall and to the entryway of the castle.

Kodo insists that the two of you get to see him first.

You’re sweating wildly out on the steps as you wait.

Long before you’re ready for it they bring him out.

A shivering skeleton of a man with a linen bag over his head, immediately bile rises in your throat. Kodo is grinning ear to ear when his legs are kicked out from under him and he’s forced to kneel.

Kodo himself reaches forward and tears the bag off, too excited for any decorum or finesse.

You gasp as you stare down at the broken man before you.

In all honesty he isn’t at all what you envisioned.

His eyes verge on being hazel; they're such a light brown. You’d always pictured them to be nearly black. It doesn’t matter what color they are though, when you see the tears forming in his lash line you flinch, clutching the ring on your necklace to silently let him know silently just how much he means to you.

He’s a mess.

You don’t like looking at what those weeks in the dungeons did to him and the last thing you need to do right now is empty your stomach on the palace steps.

He’s too thin. Far, far, too thin, it’s like his entire being has shrunk down. He’s hollow.

Your breath hitches when Kodo grabs a fistful of his dark hair, forcing him to turn and stare at the crowd. They must have cut it while he was down there it’s a mess, jagged edges and shorter than you’re used to.

“This man has committed an act of treason against the crown.” His voice is loud and booming as the city goes quiet. “For such a crime he shall face the proper punishment.” He yanks him downawards, you watch in horror as Din’s head hits the stone, an incoherent mess of sounds pour from his bloody mouth and you have to look away.

He didn’t want you to look.

You remind yourself to try and calm your breathing. You can hear the scuffle as they drag him to the guillotine, placing his neck into the wooden divot, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest as you turn to look. His eyes are everywhere but on you as he looks at the people around him, desperately pleading for his life. Not a single person so much as glances at him, afterall, it’s just nonsense, no one can understand him without a tongue.

You can’t stand it, you almost cover your ears but you manage to resist as Kodo puts an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him.

“You’re welcome, sweet wife.” He whispers, his breath hot and wet against your ear.

Fuck it.

You don’t suppress the shudder in your spine as you shoot him a look of disgust. In a matter of moments everything you care about will be gone, why pretend any longer.

A bellowing chime plays from a nearby clock tower and you know it’s time, you straighten up as you stare at the guillotine in abject horror.

This is it.

Your chest rises and falls in sharp short bursts as everyone prepares themselves, a hush forming among the crowd on the street.

And it begins, a chain reaction that you cannot stop now that the executioner has his ax raised above his head.

You had expected more. More time.

A part of you thought that time would slow, that you’d have a chance to stop it.

But no.

There is no epic fairy tale moment where the sun glimmers off of the blade and the executioner raises his ax, giving you this perfect moment to run to him, to shield him from the inevitable, to beg them to take you with him.

That moment never comes.

You barely have enough time to close your eyes like you promised him. In one unbroken motion the rope is cut, the blade falls and boom.

Just like that, he’s gone.

When you hear the metal slicing through the air you squeeze your eyes shut, hearing only the wet crunch as it cuts through flesh and bone. A soft, squishy thud when his head hits the stone.

In fashion with your decision to no longer hide your disgust from Kodo you vomit. Bending down you puke onto the stones, spraying your own, and Kodo’s feet. The triumphant smile on his face vanishes as he realizes what’s happened. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, refusing to look at Din’s limp body as you give Kodo one last look of detestation before turning around and running back into the castle, not caring what anyone thinks anymore.

The moment you’re inside the reality of it all settles in as you feel tears falling wildly as you run up the steps to your room.

☆

You have been good, and kind, and in return the maker rewarded you by killing the love of your life.

So when you stand in the center of your demolished room you do the only thing your body can do at this point.

You scream.

From deep within your stomach, you scream, loud and raw.

If anything was left unbroken in your room you’d be throwing it at the wall. But there’s nothing so you scream.

You shriek.

You howl.

And you wail.

You scream until there is no more noise. Your voice, like the rest of you, gives up.

You aren’t sure how late it is when you finally stop. You’re tired and it’s dark outside and your throat is raw.

And you lay on the floor. Because the bed is too big, and too cold, and the closet is so empty. So the only place left to sleep is there. You lay on the floor with no more tears to cry and no more sounds to scream as you stare at your bed, only from this angle can you see a rectangular shape under your bed frame.

You wipe your nose with a stray piece of fabric before slowly crawling over to it, you sit on the floor and when you retrieve the item a brand new lump forms in your throat as you stare down at the box Din had bought all those days ago at the market.

Your failsafe.

With quivering hands you open it, staring into the small space containing a mess of items but what catches your eye is a piece of folded paper with your name on it. You take it between your fingers, opening it, careful to not let your tears fall onto it.

Sarad’ika,

If you’re reading this then I’m afraid things aren’t going all that well for me. There are plenty of possible reasons as to why I’m no longer with you, but what’s important is that I plan on doing everything in my power to get back to you. There is only one thing in the galaxy that could keep me from your side, and if that is my fate then this box will ensure you’re taken care of.

The most important thing is for you to get off this planet. I have included a few possible plans for you, do what you have to to survive. Elaine will help you escape.

You can seek out Greef Karga on Nevarro. Tell him Din Djarin sent you, tell him what’s happened and he will see to it that you are cared for. Explain our circumstances and I am certain he will provide you with safe lodging.

Tatooine is also an option. You’ll find a Mandalorian there by the name of Boba Fett, he will not turn you away. You will be protected there, if you need to relocate for some reason after that he will help you locate the Mandalorian convert. Show the Mandalorians your ring and you will be cared for the rest of your life, the convert will protect you.

As an absolute last resort there is a planet located in the Outer Ring called Ossus. There is a school there, taught by a man named Luke Skywalker. I doubt he would be eager to take you in but you must insist. Bring the chainmail, they’ll know who sent you. Take care of each other.

In this box you will find enough credits to get you off planet and take care of you for several months, a year if you’re frugal, I suggest you take a few jewelry pieces to pawn off for extra credits as well. You will find a small chainmail shirt, and a necklace of mine.

And lastly you will find your vibroblade.

Protect yourself. You’re strong, and more than capable of doing so.

I have one request for you, please, I will only ask this one thing of you.

Be smart.

You are the smartest and kindest person I have ever had the honor of knowing. Be smart, take care of yourself. If the roles were reversed I know that I would go to extremes to either get you back, or find justice for you. And all I can do is ask that you do not attempt any such thing, the only thing I would ever want for you is safety and happiness.

So seek those things out.

Be safe. Be happy.

I was lucky to know you, and even luckier to be yours.

an ner kar'taylir darasuum,

Din

All my love.

You flip the paper over, desperate for more, more Din, but all you find is scrawled coordinates to each location. Your fingers sift through the items, everything he promised is found inside but you latch onto the blade. Laying back down on the floor you clutch it between your fingers as you think of Din.

Din, who was yours.

Din, who they took from you.

Who Kodo, took from you.

And your grip on the knife tightens.

☆

Two guards stand outside your door round the clock now.

They never follow you or come into your room but they’re there, silently watching as you direct all your anger at your new staff. As promised Leo trained them to be as persistent and infuriating as he was.

When the two new girls come to fetch you in the morning you can’t help it when you scream at them to leave you alone and to stop trying to clean the ever growing mess of things.

It doesn’t matter that it isn’t their fault, you can’t stand the sight of anyone.

All three of them try. New Elaine and Lysa show up three times a day, trying to dress you and squeeze their way past you into the room but after enough shrieking they always leave you be.

New Leo usually tries once or twice a day, you don’t even look at him. You always stare at the floor, when he tries to speak you give him the same treatment as the girls, screaming at him and slamming the door.

Why should you let them in? You know what they are. They’re here to spy on you, to be Kodo’s eyes while he’s busy being king. They’re easy to evade. When you leave to fetch yourself food or a book from the library you easily outrun them. The two girls are worse at navigating the castle than you were when you first arrived and new Leo has a bad leg, sometimes he’ll make attempts to limp after you but they’re always unsuccessful.

You think of nothing, day after day because there is nothing to think about.

Except for the fact that Kodo took your future away from you. He took everything from you.

If you thought time was blending before Din’s death nothing could have prepared you for now. You don’t track the days as well, you keep your curtains drawn and only leave when you get hungry or start to think of Din. The last thing you need to do is have another screaming fit so you keep him locked away in your heart, an ache that’s always there that you don’t address.

One day, in a fit of tears you took your knife and decided on a whim to kill Kodo. You didn’t care about the repercussions at that point you just wanted him to suffer but the moment you opened the door you nearly tripped, stumbling backwards the guards didn’t so much as glance at you.

Another vase of flowers.

You’re tempted to just kick them down the hall but you can’t help yourself when you lean down to pick them up.

A bouquet of blue lilies. Your nose twitches at the sight of them, out of the corner of your eye you see new Lysa and new Elaine approaching so you take the opportunity to slam the little glass vase into the stone floor. Glaring at them when you do before returning to your room.

☆

Maybe it’s been three days since Din died.

Maybe it’s been three months.

You aren’t sure.

You aren’t sure when you made plans to kill Kodo either but suddenly you have them. A fool proof way to get him alone.

And suddenly you’re dressed for the first time in, well, however long it’s been. In a baby blue nightie with a robe you march out into the hall. The guards watch in silence as you walk away, your bare feet scampering down the stairs until you find yourself watching the main entrance. Waiting for your loving husband to make his nightly trip to a pleasure house, a trip that is typically accompanied by guards.

You grip the handle of the knife in your pocket as you wait until you finally hear footsteps approaching.

“Kodo, honey?” You step out from behind the stone column, holding your robe closed as you bat your eyelashes at him. He stumbles around drunkenly until his eyes focus on you.

You’ve only used your voice for screaming for so long you sound meek, exactly as you want to right now.

“Wife?”

“I thought maybe you’d like to join me tonight…” You hold a hand out towards him, putting on a sickly sweet tone of innocence. His mouth twists into a grin.

“I knew you’d come around eventually.”

He doesn’t question where you’re taking him, he simply follows.

What a joke.

You pull him up the stairs, you know from hide and seek where to find an empty room so you guide him there in calculated silence until he trips a bit, laughing to himself as he stutters.

“I knew if I got rid of the Mandalorian you’d realize how much better I am than him.” The statement doesn’t sit right with you and he can see it on your face, even in his drunken state he can sense your confusion.

You both stop, you’re above him on the stairs as you turn and stare into his eyes.

“You- you knew?”

He simply nods, that sickening smile of his is plastered on his face. His icy blue eyes shimmer with delight.

“How long?”

“When Leo told me I remembered everything. That little altercation in the hall when your boy knocked me out came right back to me, from there it wasn’t hard to figure out.” Your eye twitches as he speaks.

He knew you loved him and he took him from you anyway.

Any hesitations you had are gone as you nod, pulling him onward until you reach the large vacant tower room. He’s so drunk you decide to just drop the voice, pointing at a spot on the floor.

“Lay down.” You mumble, reaching into your pocket once more.

He eagerly does as he’s told, laying down on the cold stone, you take a deep breath, in one swift motion you grab your knife, holding it behind your back as you toss your robe aside. He gives you a toothy grin as you ever so slowly walk to him, standing above him before sitting, straddling his waist.

You look him up and down, one last time.

Your loving husband.

One of his hands plays with the blue lace of your nightie as you collect yourself. You look up at the ceiling briefly.

I’m sorry.

Not for Kodo, but for Din. This is exactly what he didn’t want you to do.

You aren’t a killer. And you aren’t hateful, but a person can only be pushed so far before something breaks.

Be smart.

You think of Din’s note one last time before you bring the blade out in front of you and slam the blade into Kodo’s chest.

He makes a sickly wet sound, coughing as he stares at you in shock.

You remove the knife, the hot steel cauterizes his wounds, there isn’t so much as a drop of blood as your face twists with fury and you bring it down again into his stomach now.

How dare he look surprised by any of this.

After what he took from you? He deserves galaxies worse.

So you remove the knife.

And you stab him again.

And again,

and again,

and again.

Until there is no more shocked look on his face. You don’t have a snarky remark or a statement to commemorate your revenge, you’re all used up at this point, all you have is this, this stabbing motion.

He didn’t even have a chance to fight back.

You crawl off of his body, sitting on the stones as you toss the knife to the side, waiting for a rush of euphoria.

But it never comes.

It doesn’t feel as good as you thought it would.

Staring down at Kodo’s lifeless body. You let yourself crumble. Collapsing down onto the floor, gasping for air as you sob.

This was never going to bring him back.

You lay there on your hands and knees for quite some time, just wailing, because what else are you supposed to do right now? You realize far too late that this was never an act of malice, some demented and shattered part of you thought that this would somehow bring him back, that it would give you peace.

They won’t execute you.

You planned this exactly so they wouldn’t.

Kodo didn’t tell anyone about your relationship with Din in much detail, not enough for them to assume that you could be with child. Everyone will assume that it’s Kodo’s. They won’t kill you, they can’t.

Not if they think you’re carrying Kodo’s child. Now that Kodo’s dead, there’s no one to tell the royal family that you never consummated your marriage, your child is the most well protected person on the planet. The future monarch. It’s almost funny, you haven’t permitted yourself to think about the stirring within you as a child until just now, in this moment of weakness. A child, your child.

Who will most likely grow up without a mother because of the decisions you've made today.

You bite your fist, swallowing a scream as you sit back on your heels.

Your child will never know how loved they were. Your little one will never get to sit beside their mother while their father teaches them to sew. You put your head in your hands as you wail, no longer caring who hears. Your fate is sealed, what does it matter?

You don’t turn when you hear someone coming up the stairs. When they pull you into their arms you try uselessly to shove them away. Your vision is blurry and filled with tears as you stare up at the unfamiliar figure now holding you. They rub your back, drawing swirls and stars against your spine as they pull you closer.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” They mumble into your hair. You dry your eyes hastily on your sleeve, confused by the voice you’re hearing, it’s painfully familiar, on instinct you wrap your arms around their torso, pulling yourself into their lap as you both sit on the floor beside Kodo’s body. “You’re okay, I’m here.”

“I’m- I’m sorry.” You whisper against the stranger's shirt. You knew you weren’t hateful. You’re certain of it now because even though he took quite literally everything from you, you still feel bad when you look at Kodo.

A large hand cups your face, pulling you back to their chest so you can’t see the corpse anymore.

“I didn’t mean it- I- I didn’t mean to kill him. Well I did but I just-” You begin to ramble as a fresh flood of tears begin sliding down your cheeks.

“Hey- hey it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. We gotta get you cleaned up, okay? I’ll take care of this, I’ll fix it.” Their arms tighten around you, giving you a reassuring squeeze. You finally find the courage to look at your companion and it takes a moment for you to even realize who you’re looking at.

New Leo.

Why would he help you? You treat him like shit. When you look at him he looks like he’s about to cry and for the first time since Din was taken from you drop the walls you’ve put up and you let yourself feel bad for him. You show an ounce of kindness to him because in all honesty he’s the first person to make you feel safe since the night Din was taken from you.

A lighthouse while you sail through a storm.

So you hug him.

You pull yourself closer to him and you offer him a comfort you haven’t known for days.

“I’m sorry… for all of it, but especially the flowers, I should have told you, I just- you wouldn’t let me and the guards wouldn’t let me in without your permission and you just wouldn’t look at me.” He begins to mumble his own apologies, sending a surge of confusion through you.

You furrow your brows, pulling back once more giving him a perplexed look as you search his nearly black eyes for some kind of answer.

And it clicks.

All at once it snaps into place and you want to say his name, so desperately, but you’re terribly afraid of being wrong.

And then he smiles. A soft smile that makes you feel okay and you don’t even care if you’re wrong and you don’t care if it doesn’t make sense you just have to ask.

“Din?”

☆

a/n : yeah so uhhhhh yeah uhhhh this is the first chapter i've ever written where im actually very fond of the writing and nervous about the plot stuff so im gonna go hide?? and just vanish for a while lol

I don't have a tag list anymore !! follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates!!

#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #pedro pascal #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you

491 notes · View notes

luci-is-a-bitch-x3x · 11 months

Note

Hello!! Can I have a request for MC would turn to sheep form when they detected the brothers are. In the mood and try to comfort them (let the brothers hold them and maybe cry for) please? I love your drabbles, but you have the right to not write this, all up to you!

Also, can you fold your fic by use the keep reading between the paragraph please? Ot would helpe more to reblog them and won't cause other people have to scroll down whole fic if they're not the fan of OM. Thank you and wish you have a good day.🍀

Obey Me! Brothers react to: Mc turning into their sheep form to comfort the brother when he's upset.

Lucifer's (you are here), Mammon's, Leviathan's, Satan's, Asmodeus's, Beelzebub's, & Belphegor's reactions.

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Hello! Thank you for the request! If this isn't what you had in mind feel free to request again! I am going to write it in a different style like you requested but I might not write everything like this! Might have some angst but its mostly comfort! The characters may not be how you imagine! I apologize for any poor jokes, bad spelling, and terrible grammar. Without further ado, please enjoy the content. ♡

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Lucifer's reaction:

Finding Lucifer upset or crying is a rare occasion. It's a side of himself that he doesn't let others see often, if at all. Lucifer takes pride in being seen a certain way, so he may yell or try and scare anyone who sees him crying off. He may even claim he wasn't crying at all. If Mc and Lucifer are together Lucifer won't be as bad about pushing Mc away when he's crying, but there may still be occasions when he tries to get Mc to leave him to cry alone. He just doesn't want Mc looking down on him or looking at him differently.

For this little scenario lets say this is the first time Mc finds Lucifer crying. Mc was probably just trying to bring Lucifer some coffee or tea, they had become so used to stopping by and checking on Lucifer that knocking just slipped their mind. The sight Mc finds is one that suprises them, Mc didn't expect to find Lucifer sitting at his desk crying, his gloved hands cover his face partially but Mc can still clearly see the tears streaming down his face. Everything seemed to happen in a haze, Lucifer didn't even look up from his hands, just started yelling to 'leave him alone' or 'go away' as he turned his chair so he was facing away from the door.(I've never written about Mc's sheep form before, so this may be a little off, just bear with me) Mc didn't even mean to, but suddenly a *poof* happened, there was a bunch of smoke and Mc was in their sheep form.

The tea Mc had intended to give to Lucifer dropped to the ground and spilled everywhere when Mc transformed into Sheep Mc. Lucifer didn't even turn the chair, figuring the person dropped whatever they had in a hurry to leave his study. What Lucifer didn't expect was to hear tiny taps on the floor to his study, the taps seemed to get closer to him, causing Lucifer to turn his chair in the direction of the sound. Lucifer's cheeks were stained with tears but his crimson eyes were as intimidating as ever, his eyes bore anger, but after seeing Mc tiny and small in their sheep form, Lucifer's expression turns soft. No words are spoken, even though Sheep Mc can talk, instead Sheep Mc climbs onto Lucifer's lap. with Lucifer's help.

Sheep Mc places their tiny arms around Lucifer, hugging him gently, treating him with care. Lucifer hold's Sheep Mc close, not even trying to stop himself from crying anymore. Lucifer doesn't say anything, he just hugs Sheep Mc until the tears stop falling down his face, he may even occasionally pet Sheep Mc in attempts to calm himself. Once Lucifer has calmed down and is no longer upset, he will quietly thank Mc. If Mc chooses to stay in their Sheep form he will gladly allow them to continue to keep him company. Having Sheep Mc in his lap while he works and deals with his brothers just makes everything better. Lucifer doesn't ever tell Mc why he was crying, and Mc shouldn't ask. Its just an unspoken rule, if Mc doesn't ask questions Mc can comfort him. He doesn't need someone to talk to, he needs someone to hug and care for him, his pride would never let him admit that though.

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Thats all for now babes! Hope you enjoyed!! ♡ This is not proofread. Feel free to comment or reblog any thoughts or any add ons you have! Sorry this feels rushed and short! I will be posting the other brothers reactions as well. & I'll try and make the other brothers versions a bit longer! i'll add the links to the other drabbles once they are posted! Please be patient!! More content is coning, I promise so stay tuned! Stay safe! & Stay healthy loves!

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

⟡˙⋆Masterlist⋆˙⟡

#obey me drabble #obey me thoughts #obey me imagines #obey me x reader #obey me fluff #obey me mc #om mc #obey me x reader fluff #obey me lucifer #om lucifer #om lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #sheep mc #obey me sheep mc

430 notes · View notes

unluckywisher · 4 months

Note

Hi:) can I request some Rafayel fluff pls? (Perhaps drawing time together?) If not, whatever inspires you feel free to add more things to it.

~ Drawing with Rafayel ~

Tags: Rafayel x Reader, fluff, no warnings, reader isn't proficient at drawing, sitting on his lap but it's non-sexual, he helps you relax, he helps you draw.

Style: Second person narration, no description of reader, no use of pronouns, no use of y/n.

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! It's always fun to write the lil sassy fish. Sorry if this took a long time, I had exams 😭

Word count: ~0,8k

You are hanging out at Rafayel's house, watching him paint like any other day. But to be honest with yourself, you are growing slightly bored with the painting he's working on today. Not that there's anything wrong with it, you normally would have enjoyed it, but today you aren't really vibing with the situation.

Maybe it's because you've been on vacation for a week and you're itching to go back into action against some Wanderers, or maybe it's just a random change in mood, but the fact of the matter is that you can't stay still. You have to do something. So much so that you don't notice how your fingers have been drumming against the couch's armrest for a while now. But he does.

"With all that noise, I can barely concentrate, you know?" He says, turning to face you, brush in hand.

You immediately stop, realizing what you're doing.

"Sorry."

"What's on your mind? You seem restless," he says, putting down the brush and sitting next to you on the couch.

"Yeah, I don't know... I guess I miss work. Feeling like I'm doing something."

He scoffs.

"You have to learn how to have a moment of peace. In fact, we're going to do that right now."

He stands up, your eyes following his movements with curiosity. He grabs a sketchbook and two pencils, then makes his way back to the couch.

"Are you going to make me draw?"

"Exactly."

You sigh, taking the pencil he offers you.

"Raf, you know my drawing skills are mediocre."

"You don't need to have good drawing skills to be able to unwind by drawing," he says, sitting right next to you and opening the sketchbook to a blank page.

"I don't even know what to draw."

"You're right, you need inspiration before you do this. So let's go."

He stands up once more, making you question why he is so excited about this. He extends his free hand toward you. You grab it, and he pulls you to your feet, leading you out of the house.

The ocean expands all across your field of view. No matter how many times you see it, you're always mesmerized by how beautiful it looks.

Still holding hands, you walk up to the shore. The sun is bright in the sky, but it's not uncomfortable; the sea breeze tousling your hair. Rafayel smiles at you.

"Well? Anything you wanna draw?"

You shrug. The view is pretty, sure, but you don't know if you're up for the task of drawing what you see.

He rolls his eyes. Letting go of your hand, he sits down on the sand.

"Fine, come here." He motions for you to sit on his lap.

You do, resting the sketchbook on your legs. He leans his head on your shoulder and whispers, "Close your eyes."

"What? Why? How am I going to choose something to draw with my eyes closed?"

"Forget about that for a second."

You decide to do as he says. Eyes closed, your focus switches to what you can hear. The waves lapping, the sway of vegetation, a bird chirping, Rafayel's heartbeat and breathing, your own... You find yourself syncing your breath with his.

You feel his hand caressing the side of your face, his fingers sliding through your hair, gently massaging your scalp. You lean into his touch.

"Okay, now, after taking a deep breath, I want you to open your eyes again."

The view is the same, but now that your mind isn't running a mile a minute, you're able to take it in better.

"We're going to draw the waves," he says. "They're easy, look."

He looks over your shoulder at the open sketchbook, and using his pencil, he makes a few arcs across the page. He stops to let you do the same.

"Don't overthink it."

Heeding his words, you attempt to do the same as he did. Your lines aren't as even or as elegant as his, but that's not the point. You know it isn't.

"Now we're going to add the shoreline..."

He puts his pencil aside and takes your hand as you hold yours. He guides it to the bottom of the page, etching a soft line. You let your hand be lead without much thought about what you're drawing, and this time the line looks nicer.

"A line at the top for the horizon..." He continues to whisper.

He guides your hand to the top of the page, a few straight lines mirrored across the waves you drew.

He lets go of your hand.

"See? You made a drawing," he praises, wrapping his arms around your middle.

"Well, you helped me. I feel like I cheated," you say, holding up the sketchbook.

"I won't tell anyone if you don't tell anyone," he smiles against your ear.

"Thank you. For helping me relax," you turn your head towards him, kissing his cheek.

"Well, if you give me a kiss each time, I'll have to help you more often," he muses, his ears turning red.

You laugh, leaning back to rest against him. It's a nice day.

#wisher's wishes #rafayel x reader #lads #l&ds #lnds #love & deepspace #love and deepspace #rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #l&ds rafayel #lnds rafayel #love & deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace rafayel

156 notes · View notes

wish-i-were-heather · 2 months

Text

A FOOL FOR YOU PT 5⤵ GRAYSON HAWTHORNE X READER

ABOUT: 2610 words, no use of y/n (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4)

STORY: after so long avoiding it, you and grayson finally talk about what happened and figure out what it all means

WARNINGS: none!!

TAGS: @littlemissmentallyunstable @gretag13 @lanterns-and-daydreams @whatsamongus @alwaysthefangirl @zuzanna-jadw1ga @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @low-caloriesmonsterultra @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @jimcarreyfann42 @maybxlle @xoxo-vee @elysianwayy77 @ravishinglyliving - lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!

A/N: this took wayyyy longer than i meant it to, sorry about that. i hope you guys liked this series because it was so fun to write!! (i dont plan to continue it but who knows...)

When you woke up, you could feel the cool morning breeze making its way into your room. The birds were chirping outside, and the sun was just at the right level to where it would hit your eyes and make it hard for you to open them all the way.

Your bed felt warmer for some reason this morning- the blanket heavier, the mattress firmer, the pillow softer. You weren’t complaining, no, it was actually a… nice change. A change from your normal routine, no matter how much you relied on it. Maybe it wasn’t really different and you were just still half asleep, or-

Wait.

You never slept with your window open.

You shouldn’t have been able to feel the breeze. Or hear the birds. Or have that much sunlight peeking through. It wasn’t that things just felt different this morning, but this wasn’t your room.

When your eyes snapped open, they widened at the realization of who was beside you, the realization of whose arm was resting lazily across your stomach.

Grayson Davenport Hawthorne.

Your breath caught when you saw him. Thankfully the man had put on a shirt, but he looked so unlike himself while he was asleep.

Grayson’s usually perfectly styled hair was tousled, some light strands falling onto his forehead. His breathing was slow, steady, gentle, and you could see the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. His lips were slightly parted, making a barely audible hum with each exhale. He looked younger, more boyish in this moment of relaxation.

It was a different look on him, but not necessarily a bad one.

He stirred slightly, and you were completely frozen, only watching as he rolled over from his back to his stomach, closer to you. You had no idea what had possessed you to get into a bed with Grayson Hawthorne last night, but you were now suffering the consequences.

You tried gently to push his arm away, but Grayson was surprisingly strong in his sleep and wouldn’t let go. In fact, it only seemed to wrap around you tighter.

He was killing you right now.

The worst part was, your mind was blanking as to how you got there. You knew that neither of you had anything to drink, so it wasn’t that. You also would’ve been able to feel it if you were hungover.

It was probably the mind fog from having just woken up, but you still didn’t like not remembering.

Pushing his arm off you only proved to be futile yet again. Just as you were about to get desperate and resort to calling his name, Grayson awoke.

Well, saying he was awake was an overstatement. Grayson let out a groan and his arm tightened around you further, like he didn’t realize it was you he was holding onto. He kicked his legs out, taking up a surprisingly large amount of the bed, almost tangled up with you.

“Hmm,” he muttered, slowly opening his eyes. “I… what the-”

Grayson’s eyes widened like yours when he saw you next to him and saw where his hand was placed. He immediately retracted the arm and as awkward as you’d found it, part of you missed its warmth.

He cleared his throat and spoke again. “Good morning. You’re awake.”

“Uh, yeah,” you confirmed. “Why am I-”

“In my bed?” Grayson interrupted. “After the pool last night, we came back up here and talked for a bit. You fell asleep and I didn’t want to wake you, so I figured I’d let you stay.”

Oh.

Phew.

“You should've just woken me up and I could’ve gone to my room, it’s not that big of a deal,” you told him.

“You’re a peaceful sleeper. I didn’t wish to get in the way of that.”

Did he really have you blushing this early in the morning?

“Oh, thank you,” was the only response you could manage.

Grayson sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. Everything about him looking younger and peaceful as he slept had gone away, and he was now back to his sharp eyes staring at you intensely. The eyes you could never read, the eyes that he always managed to hide so much behind.

You forced yourself to sit up too, and- oh my god you were wearing his shirt.

You hadn’t even known that Grayson owned anything besides the countless suits he always wore. And those sweatpants, apparently, from when he was drunk the other night.

But here you were, wearing your shorts from the night before but your hoodie replaced by a soft white shirt that was far too big for you. You realized you were still wearing your swimsuit under it, but it had dried by now.

A small noise came from his nose, just a little too loudly for it to be a normal exhale.

“What,” you groaned, sheepishly looking up to meet his eyes. “Do I really look that pathetic that I managed to make Grayson Hawthorne laugh at me?”

His corners of his mouth twitched upwards. “You don’t look pathetic. It’s just your face, you look…” he cut himself off and paused to find the right adjective. You could tell what he’d been about to say.

Please don’t say cute. For the love of all things sane, please don’t call me cute.

“Amusing.”

Somehow, that was worse.

You sighed and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The night before was starting to come back to you:

After the kiss, the two of you had stayed out there and talked for a good while. You got out of the pool, put your regular clothes back on over your swimsuit. Then Grayson offered to go up to his room. You accepted the offer, and when you got up there he’d offered you one of his shirts because your hoodie had gotten wet. He then put on a shirt himself, and you simply sat on his bed and talked.

And apparently you’d fallen asleep in the same bed.

Grayson cleared his throat. “You’re thinking.”

“Yes I am.” You didn’t even bother being surprised that he could read you so easily because of course he could.

“Is it selfish of me to guess that you’re thinking about last night?”

“I don’t know about selfish, but it certainly wouldn’t be incorrect.”

A beat of silence.

You felt out of place there, sitting on the bed next to him, probably looking like a mess. But the way he looked at you during that silence proved that he wasn’t necessarily upset about your unbrushed hair or half-awake eyes or the way the sleeves of his shirt on you nearly went down to your forearms.

“I meant everything I said,” he finally spoke. “I hope you know that.”

Oh, now he was willing to bring up the elephant in the room? Last time it had taken him a week. Though you supposed it was harder to avoid when you’d both woken up in his bed.

“Even when you were drunk?” You asked.

His voice was surprisingly soft. “Even when I was drunk.”

Another silence. There seemed to be a lot of them that morning. And in that silence, you let the reality of what had happened settle in:

You kissed Grayson Hawthorne last night.

Twice.

And all either of you had to say about it was some awkward banter.

But you didn’t know what else to say. What was a kiss to someone like Grayson? Was it just a meaningless action to him? Could he just kiss someone and forget? Or was it the opposite, you’d kissed and now there was no moving on? You assumed- you hoped for the latter, and knowing him it was most likely, but you couldn’t be sure.

He was Grayson Hawthorne, after all. Who knew how many girls wanted to kiss him. Not that he ever let them, but you wouldn’t think it strange of him to find a kiss to be worth nothing.

So you figured you just had to ask.

“What are we, Grayson?”

To your surprise, he smiled softly.

“That depends,” he told you. “What would you like us to be?”

Avery had sent you a voicemail at eleven the night before. She’d also texted you countless times ever since then, well into the morning.

By the time you left Grayson’s room, it was nine.

Your hoodie hadn’t dried overnight, so he’d let you keep his shirt. You’d tied it up to try to make it fit at least a little, but it was still far too large. And it smelled like him- that didn’t help.

You pressed play on Avery’s voicemail.

“Hello? Are you- oh, it’s a voicemail. Okay, uh, well, call me back when you can. You said you’d let me know what happens with you and Grayson. I mean since you haven’t come back yet I can assume it went well? I hope so, maybe since it’s late you guys-” She paused. “Nevermind, I don’t want to think about what you’re doing. Call me. Bye.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. What on earth did she think you were doing? But you couldn’t blame her, because you’d initially had the same thought when you woke up next to him that morning.

Avery answered your call back almost immediately.

“Hello?” Her voice said through the phone.

“Hey, I’m alive.”

There was a high noise from the other end, but you couldn’t quite make it out.

“Finally! I thought you drowned in the pool or something. You wanna tell what happened? It’s been, like, twelve hours.”

Damn, she was right. You’d gone to the pool at eight last night, and it was now nine in the morning. You spent most of those hours alone with Grayson, your mind decided to remind you. You had to push the thought out of your head.

“Yeah, I’ll tell you,” you said. “In person, though. Where are you?”

“We’re in the back, by the pool. Thought it would be funny to wait for you here.”

You frowned. “Who is we-”

“Max,” she explained. There was another sound from beside her. “She says to get the fox over here, beach.”

Talking to Max and Avery didn’t prove to be productive, but it had been fun. Long story short, Max thought the idea of drunk Grayson was hilarious and Avery fully thought you were joking when you told her you’d kissed.

That only offended you a little.

But the talk by the pool didn’t last too long. Eventually, you made your way back inside. You just wanted to be alone with your thoughts for longer. You still didn’t completely know how you felt about the whole situation, despite discussing it with your two closest friends.

You realized it was almost ten o’clock and you still hadn’t had breakfast, so you went to the kitchen. As you got there, you couldn’t help but think back to when Grayson had come in, hungover yet looking completely put-together. When he’d reached into the refrigerator and grabbed cherries for some reason.

You laughed quietly at the memory.

“What’s so funny, hm?”

Your head snapped back and you were met once again with Grayson Hawthorne. And once again he was in a suit, his hair fixed, looking perfect.

He had a talent for putting himself together.

“Nothing,” you replied. “I’m just thinking.”

Grayson walked over to you and nodded. “You do that a lot.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot to think about.”

“Care to share?”

Having a conversation with Grayson Davenport Hawthorne was always difficult. Not because of the way he spoke, no, but rather because of the way he looked.

How were you supposed to focus with those silver-gray eyes looking down at you, with the way the corners wrinkled with each poorly hidden smile? How were you supposed to stand up straight when every time his fingers even brushed your skin you melted into his touch?

How were you supposed to exist when he did too?

Oh, right, he asked a question.

“I’m thinking about what you said,” you told him honestly. There was no point in trying to hide your feelings from him now.

“And remind me,” he said, moving even closer. “What did I say?”

“That you meant everything you said, even when you were drunk.”

He nodded along, but he was clearly focused more on you rather than what you were saying.

“You said you wanted my face.” You said slowly. “I know you were drunk and it was just a stupid comment, but-”

He stopped with a finger to your mouth. “We went over this the morning after, no?” Grayson’s hand moved from covering your mouth to cup your face again and it took everything you had not to lean further into it. “I would be honored to have your face.”

Even if the words were stupid, the meaning behind them was so much stronger.

When he leaned in to whisper in your ear you nearly fainted.

“May I?”

You didn’t answer, but you let your arms wrap themselves around his hips as he leaned down to meet your lips with his and-

“Jeez you guys, get a room!” Grayson stood up straight at the new voice, but your hands stayed on each other. “This is like the third time this week I’ve walked in on you two kissing out in the open. Other people live here you kno-”

Xander, who had entered the kitchen and complained about your affection, completely froze when he saw you.

“You’re not Avery.” He then pointed to his brother. “You’re not Jameson.”

Grayson cleared his throat. “Xander-”

Xander gasped. “Wait, are you two, like, a thing? Like, dating? Like, kissy kissy cuddle cuddle muah muah?”

“Xander-”

“Oh my… I knew it! I mean, I didn’t want to make any assumptions, but the two of you have been acting pretty weird for a bit now and I thought-”

“Xander-”

“-hold on. Nash owes me so much money now.”

“Xander-”

“What Gray? Of course we have a bet going. I guess my optimism is finally paying off! I was right, you are getting together! This is the best news of my life-”

“Alexander.”

Xander finally stopped rambling and looked at his brother. Grayson was absolutely glaring at him, the kind of look that spoke volumes. And coming from him, it was even louder.

“Damn,” Xander said, shaking his head. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were such a party pooper. Actually, who am I kidding, I’ve known that forever.” He shrugged. “Just… keep kissing or whatever. Good job. Er, uh, I mean-”

“Just go away, Xander.”

“Yes sir. I’m gone.”

Once the footsteps were too far to be heard, Grayson let out a sigh of relief.

You burst out laughing. Grayson only stared at you with a blank expression, like he was waiting for you to stop, which only made you laugh harder.

When you’d finally caught your breath, he let his hand find your face again, this time tangling itself in your hair. “My brother seems to think we’re dating.”

You didn’t try to hide the blush that covered your entire face. “And how do you feel about that, Grayson?”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t be upset if his assumption turned out to be true.”

Silence somehow fell upon the two of you again, but this time it was different. Not unsure, not nervous, not awkward. This time, it was a comfortable silence. A silence in which you looked into his eyes. A silence in which you could finally read one of the emotions hiding behind them:

Love.

“Grayson?”

“Yes?”

“I think I figured out what I want us to be.”

#grayson hawthorne #grayson davenport hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson x reader #the inheritance games #the grandest game #the hawthorne legacy #the brothers hawthorne #tig #tig fanfic #tgg #mightier than your sword𓂃🖋

99 notes · View notes

tkaulitzlvr · 1 year

Note

Hiii so I've been holding onto this idea for a while and like, thought it would look so good in ur style of writing🫶🏻

Reader and tom are extremely close friends 🫣

Reader is like sleeping in her bed and like her eyes flicker open and she sees a massive spider yk on her pillow 😍 so she gets a fright but tried being quiet. Her hotel room and Tom's hotel room were joined together, so she opened the door that separated the two rooms and she walks inside. She goes over to Tom and like lightly shakes him awake. He wakes up and asks her what's wrong and she says what happened. She asks him if she can sleep in his bed for the night and he's hesitant but he says yes. She gets in his bed and and after a little while, alot of smut 🥰

I love you and ur stories so much!! 🤍

SCARED - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: there is an unwanted guest in your hotel room, so you decide to share a room with your best friend, the outcome something neither of you ever expected.

content: fluff & smut.

a/n: honoured u chose me for this request🙏 i hope i did it justice, thank you for requesting!!

my eyes were slowly beginning to close, after what felt like hours of trying to fall asleep, tossing and turning, trying out multiple positions, coming to the conclusion that this is one of the most uncomfortable hotel beds i had ever slept in.

tom had been snoring obnoxiously loud in the room next door for at least an hour, falling asleep soon after he had said goodnight to me, the loud snores emitting from his mouth not helping, his door slightly ajar, no light coming through it.

turning on my side as my eyes are almost shut, i spot something round and black on the corner of my pillow. assuming it is just my imagination, my lethargy making me see things, proving to me how much i really need to sleep, i ignore it. but then it moves. my eyes shoot open, now alert and my mouth opens in horror, seeing the huge spider standing on my pillow, crawling quickly across it. i shriek, jumping out of bed and standing on a nearby chair in the corner of the room, quickly covering my mouth as i worry about waking tom. it begins to move across the sheets, until it slips underneath them, now out of sight.

“fuck fuck fuck!” i whisper, standing on the chair, afraid to move, not having any idea what to do, not wanting to step onto the floor, or anywhere, let alone kill it, my arachnophobia kicking in, spiders, or any insect in fact, always being my biggest fear. my eyes slowly move to tom’s door, trying to peer inside, the gap too small, but i soon come to the realisation that my choices are limited, and if i want to get any sleep tonight, then it will have to be in his room.

it wasn’t that i was worried it would be awkward - tom and i were really close, having known each other since we could walk, our friendship only blossoming from that point. we had never slept in the same bed, though, and i was a little reluctant to ask him, but, as the large spider re-emerges from the sheets, i dart from the chair to his room, creaking the door open and closing it behind me, worried that the spider will find its way into his bedroom.

the room is dark, hard for me to make out anything, but the minimal light through the small gap in the curtains, allows me to spot tom’s sleeping body. his chest is bare, he never slept with a shirt on, rising up and down slowly, quiet snores coming from his parted lips. i feel bad for disturbing him, but i have no other choice, creeping around to the side of the bed he is sleeping on and grabbing his shoulders, gently shaking him awake.

“tom? hey, wake up.” i whisper, trying to be as gentle as i can, knowing he won’t appreciate the 3am wake up call. he stirs a little in his sleep, but doesn’t wake up.

“tom!” i hiss, a little louder this time, watching his eyes slowly flutter open, his eyebrows furrowing once he sees that i am standing at the side of his bed.

“what are you doing here? you okay?” he yawns, his voice raspy and full of sleep as he sits up, flicking the bedside lamp on and rubbing his eyes, adjusting to the light.

“there’s a really big spider in my room.” i say, tom giving me an irritated look, clearly not impressed with my excuse for waking him up.

“really? what, you want me to go in and kill it for you?” he asks, moving the covers off of him, revealing the only item of clothing he is wearing, a pair of baggy shorts.

“i don’t know where it went.” i pause, a little anxious to ask him what i actually wanted. “can i just sleep with you for the night?”

he hesitates a little, pursing his lips together. “i can just kill it-”

“please tom? i really don’t want to go back in there, you know how much i hate spiders.” i plead, studying the way his face softens as he gives in, getting back under the covers.

“fine, get in.” he says, opening the sheets for me at the other side as i climb in, resting my head on the covers whilst he shuts the light off, leaving us in the dark.

“i bet the spider wasn’t even that big.” tom laughs, breaking the silence as i turn to face him, laying flat on his back as i am, little distance between us, but enough to stop someone making assumptions if they were to walk in.

“it was! i saw it crawl across my pillow, i wouldn’t have woken you if it was small.” i defend, a smile creeping onto my face as he returns it, my eyes falling to his lips.

“pfft, you know that’s not true, remember when we were kids? you screamed at the top of your lungs, and the spider was literally this big!” he teases, making a tiny circle with his thumb and pointer finger, laughing as i roll my eyes.

“so what i’m scared of bugs? it’s like the most common fear in the world, give me a break.” i sigh sarcastically, tom putting his hands in the air in defense, muttering a small ‘okay okay’, before letting the room return to its previous silence.

my mouth falls open as a yawn escapes from it, my body falling further under the covers as i get comfortable, ready to fall asleep.

“goodnight.” i say, closing my eyes.

“night.” tom mutters, his limbs spread across the bed, giving me little space, but i didn’t mind, enjoying his company, even though we weren’t speaking. the silence was nice, comforting even, tom and i so close that we didn’t have to make conversation, able to sit quietly beside each other without it being awkward.

his arm slings loosely around my waist as he shuffles a little closer, his head so close to mine i feel his calm breathing against my neck, my body tensing up a little at the unexpected touch. we were best friends, but never really got physically close to each other besides from hugging, definitely not doing anything like this.

“this okay?” he asks, not wanting to push any boundaries, making sure i was comfortable with it, this the first time we have ever done anything even close to cuddling, the idea never crossing my mind as i didn’t see romance in him - only a friend, at least not until now.

“yeah, of course.” i manage to say, clearly nervous, not expecting him to want to be this close to me after he was so hesitant about letting me sleep in his bed.

“you sure?” he asks, sensing the uncertainly in my response.

“mhm.” i say, relaxing my body a little as i melt into his embrace, loosening up and feeling a sense of security that i had never experienced before.

i turn my head to the side, facing him as my eyes open slowly, seeing his already staring into mine. the look on his face is foreign, the light from the curtains illuminating his features so that i can just make out his expression. his lips are parted, slow breaths emitting from them. and his eyes, the look in them is hard to decipher, soft yet concentrated, studying my features as they repeatedly flicker from my eyes to my lips, the brown pools filled of a look similar to one of admiration, love even. he is hard to read, my mind trying to figure out what he is thinking as i continue to look into his eyes, the pit of my stomach swelling in nervousness.

but, before i can buy myself more time to try fathom the complex system that is his emotions, he fits the puzzle pieces together for me, attaching his lips to mine. my eyes widen in shock, his mouth gently moving against mine. his hands find their way to my waist, pulling me closer to him. i slowly begin to relax, kissing him back as i feel him smile against my lips, my arms resting behind his neck.

our lips move in sync, fitting together perfectly, moulding in a way that echoes our love for each other, one that we always thought to be strictly platonic. but the way he holds me so gently, with so much care that i could break if he applies pressure, carries the unspoken yet completely mutual realisation that this is way more than just a friendship - and the certainty of our kiss meaning we can never go back from this.

he slowly moves on top of me, not breaking the kiss, his hands cupping my face as his thumbs smooth over my cheeks, the skin turning a light shade of red at his touch. the kiss becomes a little more heated, not yet messy, the passion reciprocated between us as neither us want to pull away, addicted to the feeling, silently wondering how and why it has taken us so long to get to this point, wishing we had done this earlier. yet the way i deepen the kiss, tom holding me with so much love it is palpable even through the heavy air, makes me feel as if i have held him like this for years, us being like this seeming so natural, so right.

his hands reach for the hem of my t-shirt, stopping briefly and breaking the kiss for the first time.

“are you sure about this? we don’t have to.” he says, staring into my eyes, his eyes full of concern, showing me all the patience in the world as he studies my features, a small smile tugging at his lips, both of us breathless.

“i want to.” i say, holding his face in my hands, nodding my head slowly, giving him more reassurance as he still looks a little uncertain. but he soon relaxes once i reconnect our lips, his hands carefully lifting my shirt up and over my head, breaking the kiss to stare at my body, my top half now bare as i wasn’t wearing a bra.

i begin to feel insecure as his eyes scan my figure, instinctively covering my breasts with my hands. he tilts his head, shaking his head a little before placing his hands over mine, interlocking them so that they are no longer covering me, my body now exposed to him.

“don’t cover yourself. you’re so perfect, i want to see it all baby.” the pet name rolls off his tongue so naturally, so smoothly as if he had been calling me it for years, this entire situation feeling so right, the way he looks at me with such admiration confirming that we are meant to be like this, destined to be intimate with one another.

his head moving to the crook of my neck, planting small pecks there, low whines escaping my lips when he hits my sweet spot, teeth grazing the area, i take this as an opportunity to attach my fingers to the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down as far as i can. he sees that i am struggling, placing one final kiss to my neck before pulling them down past his feet, his boxers soon following, leaving him completely naked, the only physical barrier between us being my shorts, tom noticing this.

he reattaches his lips to mine, gently kissing me whilst looping his fingers around the material, pulling them down, along with my panties, throwing the clothing somewhere onto the carpet, nothing but the thick air, filled with our unspoken love for each other, between us, our nakedness a mirror to the desire that takes over.

his forehead rests against mine, his inconsistent breathing tickling my cheeks. i feel him position himself at my entrance, his eyes looking into mine, searching for any uncertainty within them, hating the idea of pressuring me into doing anything. i nod, sensing his apprehension, putting any doubts he has to bed.

“i’ll be gentle, i promise.”

those are the last words he says before sliding into me, my walls stretching with his thickness, pain soon clouding my senses as i wince a little, grabbing onto his arm and squeezing the flesh, signalling for him to stop his movements. he senses my discomfort, taking my hands in his and using his thumbs to stroke the skin gently.

“i’m so sorry. i promise it won’t hurt for long.” he whispers against my lips, giving me a short kiss, his eyes never breaking away from mine as he waits for any signal, any sign that the pain has subsided.

i begin to become accustomed to the feeling, ready for him to carry on, his dick still not fully inside me. i squeeze his hands, letting out a small ‘move’, as he nods his head, kissing my forehead and continuing to slide into me, a strained moan escaping from his lips.

my eyes fall shut, pleasure soon taking over as he said it would, my mouth falling open as he bottoms out, our chests moving in and out, in sync with one another.

“keep going.” i breathe out, wrapping my legs around his waist, drawing him deeper into me.

he quickly obeys, moving in and out of me slowly, going gentle as he promised, the pace just right as i can feel every inch of him inside of me. small moans escape from my mouth, tom placing his head into my neck once again, planting open-mouthed kisses onto my collarbone, my hands threading through his dreads, savouring the feeling of him inside me, knowing that i will never experience anything else like it, our bodies fitting together so perfectly, moving in a way that seems too good to be true - the way he hits all the right places sending me into heaven, my mind questioning wether i am there already.

“you’re doing so good baby, so good.” he praises, his words muffled into my shoulder, his hands now roaming my body, feeling anywhere that he can manage to touch, his pace increasing slightly as he works towards his release, still making sure he doesn’t hurt me.

his skin resembling pure silk, smooth and soft, each muscle crafted by god itself, tensing and relaxing as he moves in and out of me, concentrating on nothing but the pleasure i am feeling, his face now inches away from mine.

a knot starts to form in my stomach, signalling that i am close. my legs tighten their hold on his waist, allowing him to move into me even deeper than he was, hitting a whole new angle as i cry out in pleasure, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. tom watches my expression, acknowledging the way my face twists in contentment when he moves at a certain angle, now doing it repeatedly, my release close.

i try to verbalise it, but my ability to produce coherent sentences is long gone, my mouth uttering a small ‘so close’, tom nodding his head as his eyebrows knit together.

“i know baby, i know. me too.” he sighs, kissing me messily as our lips collide together, the cold metal of his lip ring contrasting with his warm hold on me.

he snaps his hips once more, this enough to push me over the edge as i release, my mouth falling in an ‘o’, shape, no sounds escaping from it despite the millions of thoughts rushing through my head.

after a few more sloppy thrusts, i feel tom shoot his cum inside of me, throwing his head back with a loud groan, riding out our highs before collapsing breathlessly on top of me, stroking my hair with his shaky hands, our heavy breathing sounding throughout the now silent room.

he pulls out, our juices dripping down my legs as i whine at the loss of contact. he wastes no time in wrapping his arms around me, bringing me into his inviting embrace, kissing my lips softly.

“i love you. i’m sorry it’s taken me this long to realise, but i really am in love with you.” he whispers, his hand sitting comfortably at my lower back, the other tucking any loose strands of hair behind my ears.

“i love you too.”

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #tokiohotel #kaulitz twins #tom kaulitz x reader #kaulitz #tom kaulitz angst #tom kaulitz fluff #tom kaulitz smut #tomkaulitz #bill kaulitz

528 notes · View notes

marvelavengerspovs1 · 6 months

Text

Feel Better

Pairing: Bucky x F!reader

Warnings: No warnings, just fluff!

Length: 674

Summary: Bucky takes care of you while you’re sick.

A/N: I am currently sick so I decided to write a cute little post to make me feel better (and so I can procrastinate on my calc homework)

I do not give consent for my work to be translated, copied, or sold!

You felt fine a day ago. Maybe your throat was a little scratchy and you sneezed maybe once or twice but you felt completely fine. But Bucky knew better.

The scratchy throat soon turned into a sore throat and the sneeze turned into a coughing fit and a low fever.

“Bucky, I’m fine!” You push your boyfriend’s hand away from your shoulder and try to get out of bed.

“Doll, you need to rest.” You give up and let Bucky gently tuck you into bed.

“Bucky, It’s probably just allergies.”

“Doll, you’re burning up and all you want is soup. It’s not allergies.” You sigh and watch as he goes into the bathroom.

You hear him turn on the bathtub and fill it with warm water and some Epsom salt. He goes into your side of the dresser and gets out a clean pair of black sweatpants, a pair of underwear, and his red henley that you stole.

“Really, Doll?” Bucky turns to you with a smirk.

“It’s a comfy shirt and it smells like you.” You shrug.

Bucky lets out a laugh and brings the clothes into the bathroom. He grabs one of your favorite candles and lights it before turning off the bathroom lights. He goes to your side of the bed and sits next to you, gently stroking the side of your face.

“Come on, Doll. This will make you feel better, and I’ll make you a nice bowl of canned soup and some ginger tea.” You laugh at his comment about soup but start coughing.

“Bucky, just go stay with Steve. I don’t want to get you sick!” Bucky looks at you before kissing your lips.

“Well, I just kissed you so now I guess I’m sick.” You gasp before weakly punching his arm.

Bucky’s face scrunches and he holds his arm. “OW! What the fuck Doll?”

“Why did you do that, I’m sick! I don’t want to take care of your whiny ass!”

Bucky smiles down at you and kisses you again. “Doll, I’m a super soldier. You don’t need to worry about me.”

You look up at him before grabbing his hand. “I’m sorry for punching your arm.”

Bucky kisses the tip of your nose before getting up and carrying you bridal style to the bathroom. “It’s ok, Doll. Now let’s get you in the bath.”

Bucky gently puts you on your feet and helps you undress. He peppers kisses all over your body, saying how sorry he is that you’re sick. He gently takes your hand and helps you get into the tub, making sure that you’re comfortable.

“Ok, Doll. I’m going to make your tea and soup, I’ll be back with a glass of water.”

You grab his hand before he can leave and kiss his knuckles. “Thank you, baby.”

He kisses your forehead with a smile. “Anything for you.” And Bucky leaves the bathroom, leaving the door open in case you needed him.

You relax into the bathtub and close your eyes. You could feel your muscles relax as you let yourself be. However, the chills start to come and soon you’re shivering. You decide to sit in the bath for a few minutes before getting out to get dressed, you wanted to get all of the “sick” off of you.

Bucky comes in with a glass of ice cold water. “Doll, you’re shivering!”

He quickly puts the water on the counter before rushing to you. He helps you get out of the tub and gently dries you before helping you in your clothes.

“Can you get me some medicine?” You ask, your teeth chattering.

“I already put it on your bedside table with your soup and tea.” Bucky quickly picks you up to tuck you into bed.

“You don’t have to do all this Buck, I can handle getting into bed myself.” You tell him as he runs to get the water he left in the bathroom.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m doing what I want to do and that’s taking care of you.”

#avengers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader fluff #bucky barnes fluff

163 notes · View notes

jamilelucato · 7 months

Text

The Writer and The Illustrator (Part 01)

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Miss [y/n] Summary: Miss [y/n] is not your average young lady, for she is also W. Jabber, a talented writer who challenges societal norms. All was well until her publisher presented her with a new challenge—to write a children's book disguised for adult readers and to have it illustrated. And to help her with the task, she knows only one good painter in London. Age rating: although this chapter is pretty chill for younger audiences, the next parts will have more explicit scenes, so let's keep it 18+. Author's note: I said I'd be back with the Bridgerton boys, and here I am! Benedict, for the win! Hope you guys like it! (Part 02 here!) To read Anthony's fic, click here! For other stories, click here. Enjoy! Miss [y/n] was a writer. A good one, she dared add. Of course, that was unnoticed by the people of the ton, who would not have appreciated female writing, even if it was that great.

For that precise reason, Miss [y/n] prospered in a secret double life, where she was a pleasant lady by day and a fierce author by night. Her publisher was the only man she considered a friend since he knew her true identity and was present in both parts of her life. Needless to say, such an intelligent and refined man, capable of admiring penmanship made by a woman, would already have a wife. And would be dangerously too old to be anything more than an extra father figure in Miss [y/n] 's history.

Being close and such, Mister Brendy often challenged [y/n] 's writing abilities, encouraging her to try new styles in every new book. He'd often advise her towards writing the genre most wanted by the public at that specific time, and [y/n] was always quick to agree — as she held Mr Brendy's opinions very highly. Also, her family desperately needed the money [y/n] provided anonymously. Pretending it was a subsidy presented by an old aunt from the country, the young woman allowed her family some great comfort; furthermore, she permitted herself the luxury of new dresses every season.

"Good afternoon, Mr Brendy. How are you this evening?"

The sky wasn't fully dark when Miss [y/n] popped into the tiny printer's shop, but she was confident enough that nobody followed her in; thus, she modelled no cape or undistinguished clothing. She was merely herself before her old chum and a couple more teen-boy workers.

"Very well, dear," the printer replied, holding a modest smile. Mr Brendy had gently round features, and his smile, even the smallest ones, was exceptionally pleasant to witness. "Hope you're ready to hear your next challenge."

"I wouldn't be here if I weren't, Mr Brendy," she answered, lowering her eyes to the papers over his table, looking for clues to his oncoming request. Most authors did not enjoy working with demands, but [y/n] thrived with them, and she was Mr Brendy's favourite because of it.

"Well, have you how many nephews and nieces again? I always forget; I'm sorry," Mr Brendy got up and walked towards Miss [y/n]'s chair.

"No need to be sorry, Mr Brendy — I, sometimes, forget as well," she smiled. "I currently have three nephews and one baby niece. She's such a lovely newborn!"

The gentleman placed his hands in his trouser pockets, scratching his throat before saying, "Yes, newborns are usually a delight—a blessing."

"Couldn't agree more," Miss [y/n] couldn't help her anxiety taking the best of herself. "But what does my siblings' offspring have to do with my upcoming, in need of writing, book?"

After another scratch of his throat, Mr Brendy finally spoke his true intentions. "Do you remember when you found me shivering from the rain outside and asked if I could publish your first book? And even cold, you managed to make all these demands regarding our partnership?"

"Of course, I remember! I was a baby lassie of fifteen years of age, but wasn't I a captivating writer even then?" Miss [y/n] was only joking but noticed that Mr Brendy wasn't less tense. "Does this talk have something to do with my demands? Do you need to lower my percentage of profit?"

Dear God, she hoped not.

"Nothing of such. Your books are bestsellers, Miss [y/n]. Money is not the problem," he said. "However, your other contract demand... The one where you work alone..."

"Yes?" she was desperately nervous.

"Would you be able to make an exception?"

There was silence in the room. It felt like even the employees outside the tiny office were muted, waiting for her answer.

"I'm sorry, Mr Brendy, but what are you implying? You want me to write in association with another author, is that it?"

"Not another author per se," he gritted his teeth, and the noise startled Miss [y/n]. "No," he restarted, "I don't want your writing to get jumbled up. You have a magnetic way of putting words to paper; I would never allow anyone else to interfere with that."

"Thank you," she said, happy for the compliment, though confused about how to respond. Mr Brendy was a good man, but he rarely presented free praise.

"I want you to work partnered with a painter, an illustrator. See, this is where your nephews come to action — children's books are the latest fashion, the genre bestseller of the hour. We have no author good enough to conquer that style the way we want," he paused, "— at least no better writer than you."

She was flattered but primarily confused. Her books weren't for children. Under the name of W. Jabber, she published pieces about politics and devotion, death and art, but all of that over a darker tone, very adult if you dare. What would be her place when speaking to children? What story could she have stored to tell those little kids rushing to a bookshop, looking for the newest realise?

"I want you to write a children's story the way only you could — designed for the parents. I want it perfectly disguised so that, when a parent fetches the book — tediously and only doing it for the quietness of their offspring — they get stunned to find out the narrative is very well made for them as much as the child."

"You reckon I could write such a thing?" she asked in a second of bravery. "I don't think I can."

"Upon rereading your latest, my dear, I discovered that if anyone can, it is you," he said. "When I first read Storms of Love, I could never have deduced the novel was about the Priest falling in love with his bastard son. At first glance, the story felt like a mother missing her son when he decided to go to seminary!"

She pressed her lips together, feeling shy. It was a horrible habit, as the lady knew she looked dreadful when she did it, but she couldn't help it. How many times, during balls, did she have to hear people praising her without knowing that Jabber was [y/n]?

"Again, thank you, Mr Brendy. You know I adore compliments," Miss [y/n] tried to smile, but she couldn't disguise her dismay. "Regardless, I…"

"I would never force you, Miss [y/n]!" the printer rushed closer to her, taking the liberty of placing a hand on her covered shoulder. "But before you say anything, know that the illustrator would be one of your selections, and we could do the whole interaction anonymously if you so desire."

"It's not the teamwork that unnerves me, Mr Brendy, but the writing of a children's book for adults." Miss [y/n] stared deep into Mr Brendy's eyes, but that was a wrong choice. His big, green eyes stared at her back, filled with hope for her to accept. How could she say no to the older man who knew her more than her father?

She placed her hand over his on her shoulder before saying, "Do you truly believe I am the best option for this chef-d'oeuvre? It takes courage to defy society with a youngsters' novel."

He smiled in that way only a proud grandparent could. "Yes, I believe you can."

After the conversation with Mr Brendy, Miss [y/n] at least managed to secure the illustrator would be her pick and not be some random person chosen by the printer.

That was exceptionally tricky, however. [y/n] did not know a bunch of painters — at least not enough that were indeed talented for her intentions or kind souls that would not reveal her identity. She did not want to be Lady Whistledown's next victim.

Miss [y/n] came up with one name and one name only. It was the only name not crossed from her list made in the dim candlelight of past midnight.

Benedict Bridgerton.

Thorny indeed. Could she trust him?

She and her parents had been friends with the Bridgerton family for years now, and Francesca was what [y/n] could call her best long-distance friend, but how far did she know Benedict?

He was a second son, which did not help his reputation, but there was no denying he was a gentleman and a remarkable artist. They used to play together at Aubrey Hall when they were both too young to feel ashamed.

Benedict was her friend, at least as far as being friends with a man could go for a single lady.

Subsequently, Miss [y/n] waited for the promised ball Lady Danbury would throw for the people of the ton, anxious to see if Benedict would say yes to her proposition and not tell anyone her little secret.

"Miss [y/n] [y/l/n]," said Lady Danbury, appearing out of thin air beside the young lady, "you look nervous. What for, my dear?"

[y/n] swallowed hard. "Do I? I suppose I could look like that, but I promise I'm fine as a horse."

"If that horse is about to go racing," said the old lady sharply. "Seriously, sweetie, entertain me. I fear this is the first ball I throw where nothing good happens. It starts to hurt this hostess's feelings, you know."

"Lady Danbury, well, if you must know…." [y/n] was certainly not about to tell her the real reason beyond her nervous appearance. Lady Danbury was a lady of gossip, and that was the last thing [y/n] needed. "My mama, just yesterday…" started [y/n], but she never managed to finish her lie because Lady Danbury interrupted her with a yell.

"Mister Bridgerton!"

Oh, Christ. [y/n] felt like she was all wet with sweat. What were the odds?

"Mister Bridgerton!" shouted the old lady again, this time prolonging the last name of the gentleman walking by.

"You know, Lady Danbury, I'm not obliged to answer since there are three 'Mister Bridgerton' alive at the moment," said Benedict, stopping closer with a grin. "Two of them are at this party right at this moment."

Lady Danbury hit him with her cane, and the gentleman pretended to feel pain beyond what he must have felt. "Very funny, Mr Bridgerton, but we both know one of them isn't even old enough to be called mister."

"Yes indeed; Colin is a not fully formed child, but I rather only Bridgertons talk about that," he joked.

Only when his giggle ceased did the tallest Bridgerton siblings notice Miss [y/n]'s presence. It was a bit embarrassing for her, as she was staring at him laughing and how magnificent he looked — so relaxed that his hair moved with the movement of his chest. She had to tilt her head quite a lot to face him, so there was no covering her gaze.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss [y/n] [y/l/n]. I did not see you there."

"Clearly," Lady Danbury whispered in her condescending tone, making her sound like a teenager.

"Good evening, Mr Bridgerton," Miss [y/n] said, ignoring Lady Danbury's comment and smiling at the gentleman before her. She had been looking for him after all.

"And now you two have been officially introduced," said Lady Danbury surly, allowing no interruptions. "Can I finally talk to you, Mr Bridgerton, about what I wanted?"

"You, calling upon me, had a reason!" said the Bridgerton man at the same time Miss [y/n] burst: "We knew each other already!"

"Oh, all right," Lady Danbury sighed, defeated. Benedict and [y/n] smiled, feeling victorious — but Benedict's smile was broader. "Mr Bridgerton, I insist on talking to you as I'm sure you must be anxious to meet my niece."

"Your niece?" he echoed.

"Yes, the one coming from Chester," continued the old lady. "Winnie Danbury. You had heard about her coming, yes?"

Lady Danbury's eyes seemed challenging as if asking for one of them to deny her tellings, as [y/n] was sure no one mentioned Miss Winnie before. However, they both stayed silent, agreeing with a head shake.

"Miss Winnie Danbury," said [y/n], testing the name, "is it her first time here in London?"

Lady Danbury moved her body to face Miss [y/n] as she had partially forgotten about the girl's presence. [y/n] was a charm; the old lady had only good things to say about her, but sometimes the Miss would rather stay in a corner barely lit, which infuriated Lady Danbury. Miss [y/n] was a beauty; she needed to be seen more often — even if society didn't agree with the elderly lady.

"Yes, it is," replied the aunt. "Oh, she's beautiful, Mr Bridgerton. And so talented! Did you know she plays five different instruments?"

Of course she does, [y/n] thought, sighing to herself. The anonymous writer dreamed of playing an instrument or, at least, being able to draw. She'd like to have another artistic talent besides writing. It was well viewed when a woman played wonderfully and even painted; it all did better than writers. Writing for a woman was like talking to the devil; her great-uncle had told her once when she'd suggested she had some talent for it.

"Lady Danbury, it will, undoubtedly, be a pleasure to meet another member of your family," said the gentleman.

"Especially if she's like you," whispered [y/n], afraid her tone sounded too provocative for the old lady's ears.

"But," continued Benedict, pretending not to have heard the young woman's comment, although the left corner of his mouth indicated otherwise, "is there any reason you should be offering your niece to me?"

"Why, yes! You are the oldest Bridgerton bachelor at the moment," said Lady Danbury and turned to Miss [y/n] before restarting, "and it would be a lovely match, wouldn't it?"

[y/n] had no reason to disagree.

"Of course. A Danbury with a Bridgerton, the missing couple in London."

Lady Danbury smiled as if she knew more than those young fools, and touching Benedict with her cane, she began to depart.

"I'll leave you alone, as I feel that my mission here is already complete."

"Oh no, please," Benedict pronounced sarcastically, "stay and tell us more about Miss Winnie."

But Lady Danbury had already turned away and walked away from the two of them, focusing her attention on Penelope Featherington, who was creeping through the room, trying hard not to be noticed.

Mr Bridgerton looked immediately unnerved by the noble lady's departure as if he didn't know what to say to Miss [y/n] [y/l/n]. And he didn't.

The two had known each other for a while and were even good friends, but she remained an unmarried woman in the presence of an unmarried man, and alone, the two seldom exchanged words. They were sharp when doubled against another Bridgerton or one of her brothers, but Benedict had always seen her as just one of the women of the ton.

She had her appeal, a magnificence in disguise. For example, she didn't take anyone's breath away but wasn't ugly to look at. In addition, she had more prominent curves than other women, a virtue when it came to her cleavage but a flaw when considering her corset region.

Benedict never judged her for that. On the contrary, he liked knowing she had something he could hold onto.

No.

He didn't like it.

Why exactly am I thinking about Miss [y/n]'s curves? The gentleman chastised himself. Forget it before you say something foolish!

Miss [y/n] noticed the dreadful hush and decided to speak first since she had something to say.

"Mr Bridgerton, I... I'd like to have a word with you," she felt her cheeks flush with nervousness. "In a less... crowded place."

Benedict gulped. So he spoke aloud. Bollocks.

"I have a business proposition. Perhaps it will interest you," she resumed, relieving Benedict immediately. "You still paint, yes?"

"Yes," he replied overly quickly.

"And you draw?"

"Well, yes." The gentleman stopped talking to reminisce. Would she like a portrait? Strange. No one hired painters during balls, and never, ever should a single lady ask a gentleman for a painting (at least not if she wasn't interested in the man himself).

Does she have an interest unrevealed? He thought but renounced the idea. It was [y/n] who stood before him. The same girl who played in the mud and one day made fun of him for having such fragile hands.

She had no interest in Benedict other than his artistic gifts.

"Need a painting, Miss?"

"Not precisely…" She looked nervous. "Can you pace with me to the refreshment table?" she asked, walking over to it before hearing him nod. It was the least guarded place in the salon at that moment.

He followed her, for he was too curious to drop it.

"How would you feel…" she started saying after analysing their surround "if it was offered to you a chance to illustrate a book?"

"A book?" he echoed, a bit too loud.

[y/n] waited a bit before continuing.

"A children's book, but adults can deeply interpret it."

"That's rather specific," he pointed out. So what was the meaning of all that? How was [y/n] in any power to offer him such a proposition?

"Mr Bridgerton, I simply want to know if you could be interested. If you are not, then I'll never mention it again," she said, her voice slightly shaky, even though she was playing chilliness.

Benedict took a step further, thinking she was out of her mind and only his closeness could bring her to her senses. "How can you do me such an offer, Miss? As I recall, your father is not in the editing, writing and printing business."

She closed her eyes tight, not believing she was about to confess to Benedict Bridgerton.

"But I am."

"Yeah, right," snorted the Bridgerton gentleman, crossing his arms in front of his chest. But [y/n] stayed utterly silent; she didn't dare utter a word, and Benedict could not stare at her big, closed eyes for that long without wondering: who was she? He was momentarily sure he didn't know. "[y/n]?" he called her, daring, in a whisper, to utter her first name.

[y/n] opened her eyes, surprised that Benedict had used her first name. She had always thought of him as Mr. Bridgerton, the handsome and charming gentleman whom society's most eligible ladies always surrounded. But now, she was asking him for help and needed to trust him with her secret.

"Yes, it's true," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm W. Jabber, the author of several books. I published under a male pseudonym."

Benedict was stunned. He had heard of W. Jabber's work and greatly admired "his" writing. He had no idea that the author was Miss [y/l/n], the girl he had known since childhood. He looked at her, seeing her in a new light. She was not just the girl who played in the mud; she was a talented writer who broke society's rules to pursue her passion.

"I had no idea," he said, his voice full of awe.

"I know," she said, a small smile playing on her lips. "It's not something I can share with many people."

"And you want me to illustrate your next book?" he asked, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that his childhood friend was a published author.

"Yes," she said, her eyes shining with excitement. "I've been working on a new book, and I think your illustrations would be perfect for it."

Benedict smiled, feeling honoured that she had asked him. "I'd love to help you," he said. "But how will we do it in secret? We can't let anyone know."

"I have a plan," she said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Meet me tomorrow at the park, and I'll tell you all about it."

Benedict nodded, feeling a sense of excitement at the thought of working with [y/n] on a secret project. He had always admired her intelligence and wit, but now he saw a new side that intrigued him even more.

As they returned to the salon, Benedict couldn't help but wonder what other secrets Miss [y/n] [y/l/n] was hiding. But for now, he was content to focus on their new project, a collaboration that would push the boundaries of society and showcase their talents in a way that no one else could.

#benedict bridgerton #Benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x yn #bridgerton #bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton #polin #lady danburry

174 notes · View notes