#stand by me fanfic
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Blue Jeans [Chapter Five] Piece By Piece [Ace Merrill]
Warning(s): cloud 9, disappointment, bullying, Ace being Ace, comfort, slight manipulation, OFC.
No Minors Allowed!!
The following weekdays flew by quickly and before Elise knew it, the release date for The Brain That Wouldn't Die had come. She woke up early that morning on cloud nine.
In addition, her father was visiting from Castle View for the weekend. It put a small damper on her mood that she could not catch up with him until Saturday morning due to her shift and the date, but the feeling soon passed as Elise reminded herself what the day had in store. Besides, her father would understand.
Before her shift, Elise laid out a pair of slim-fit jeans and a cute button-down blouse, intending to return home, bathe, and then get ready before the movie. Ace suggested picking her up at the house, but to avoid judgment from her mother or questions from her grandmother, she asked him to meet her in front of Irby's Pool Hall instead.
Everything seemed to be moving along smoothly until Elise got to the diner and Nan called her into the office. Bobbie, the dishwasher, shrugged his shoulders as she walked in as if to say he wasn't sure if it was good or bad. Honestly, she was nervous.
Nan sat down in her chair with a huff and rested her arm on the counter; her hair was pulled up in a tight beehive style.
“Myra called out tonight.”
Elise figured as much. She had plans to go to the drive-in with them.
“We're completely understaffed. ‘Sides Tammy, there ain't another waitress on the afternoon shift.” Nan paused to look at what appeared to be a written schedule on her desk. “Damn girl didn't give me a warning beforehand, and I tell you, if I had another option I'd go with it, but I don't.”
Elise could see where this was heading. She tightened her jaw and waited for the bad news.
“Do you mind working doubles today? I already asked Liza but she can't do it,” Nan asked.
A tight uneasy feeling overtook Elise. It felt like someone had punched her in the gut. She could easily say no, but Nan was a nice woman; she hated to leave her in a bind. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she shook her head.
“I can do it.”
Nan grinned.
“I knew I could count on you, hon.”
Elise left the office with a deflated look on her face, ignoring Bobbie’s questioning stare as she grabbed a clean apron and headed out front. Liza met her at the counter with a wide smile, but as soon as she saw the disappointment in her eyes, she frowned.
“What’s wrong? Who do I have to choke?”
The blonde snorted and blinked away her tears.
“No one. It's just going to be a long day.”
And it was.
To make matters worse, when the next shift rolled around, Elise had a feeling that Tammy had it out for her, for some reason. Every move she made was met with scrutiny and spite. And then when she introduced herself to the kitchen staff, Sophia Burchill, the cook referred to her as ‘The’ Elise, an indication that someone on the afternoon shift was talking about her, and not in a good way, Elise reckoned.
It was a mess.
Her only moment of comfort came when Gordie and Chris walked in. Despite being a few years older than them, she was more than happy to see them.
“No Vern or Teddy today,” she asked, bringing the menus over to the booth.
Like before Gordie gave her a wide-eyed look, surprised to see her, until Chris answered for them.
“Busy, I reckon. Teddy is sometimes in summer school. Don't know when he gets out.”
Bummer. Elise took out her server pad.
“What can I get you both?”
After taking their orders, she took the guest check over to the Pass and put it on the counter. Sophia peeked into the front of the house and snorted.
“Those little shits again.”
Elise raised a brow. Did she mean Chris and Gordie?
“They're nice. I like them.”
Sophia grinned and then wiped her sweaty face with a spare rag; her blonde bangs stuck to her forehead.
“You like Ace don't you?”
Elise felt her face heat up, but she ignored it and nodded.
“He's been nice to me so far.”
“I'm sure he has, hon. A guy like Ace is always nice to the pretty ones.” Sophia paused and motioned with her head towards the two teens. “Hang around with that lot and you'll see how fast his attitude toward you will change, pretty or not.”
What did she mean? Elise narrowed her eyes, then turned and walked away. Whatever business Ace had with the teens was his, not hers. She poured their drinks, then brought them to the table with a scowl on her face, an action that didn't go unnoticed by Gordie.
“Are you OK?” He asked.
Chris raised a curious brow, glancing at her.
“Double shits are not for everyone,” Elise uttered with a forced smile. She opted not to mention the other reason why she was in a foul mood, and took an uneasy breath.
“Were you made to?” Gordie asked.
The blonde shook her head.
“I had a date planned but I didn't want to leave Nan in bad shape. And it's not like it'll be a permanent thing.”
She hoped not anyway; she didn't much like the people on the late shift.
“You had a date?” Gordie asked in dismay.
Chris was not sure why he was asking, other than him possibly having a crush on Elise. Poor guy.
“That's none of our business, right Gordie.”
The brunette shot him a look of annoyance, then shook his head.
“Sorry,” Gordie uttered.
Elise chuckled. She did not mind the small talk. It was honestly a breath of fresh air. But after the two left, her misery continued. The dinner rush was much worse than breakfast, and by the time it finally died down, Elise was exhausted, mentally and physically. Luckily the shift ended soon.
Wiping down the counter, she heard the familiar chime of the doorbell and forced a smile.
An hour to go. I can do this.
“Sit where you like. I'll be right–”
Her welcome caught in her throat as she saw Myra and a brunette, whom Elise was certain she had seen before, walk in, dolled up in cute blouses and makeup that made their eyes look bigger. And to make matters worse, Ace and his friends were right behind them.
Elise avoided the blonde as she gathered menus from the plastic stand, but she had to admit, he looked good in a motorcycle jacket. It would have been nice to have watched the movie with him. When she dared another glance, she noticed the brunette leaning on the counter, staring at her.
“Elise right? ‘The’ Elise.” She asked.
There was that nickname again. The blonde tightened her jaw. She was certain that Myra, who had sprinted into the kitchen for some reason, was the one behind it. Elise was too tired and dispirited to care.
She answered the brunette's question with a nod.
“It's a real bummer you couldn't join us.”
“Yeah…bummer,” Elise uttered. Her voice cracked a bit.
The brunette grinned.
“You know–”
“Why don't you stop harassing the staff and go sit down, Cora.” Ace wore a smile as he leaned over the counter beside her, but his eyes were dark as if he was challenging her to talk back to him.
Cora forced a smile and went to sit down beside Charlie Hogan.
“She's right though. It was a bummer without you,” Ace stated.
Sure it was. Elise took a deep breath to calm herself. She was starting to feel overwhelmed.
“The staff will be right with you. Please sit down.”
Ace tilted his head and grinned.
“You mad at me?”
“I have no reason to be,” Elise admitted.
It was Myra who she was mad at. She hated to think less of someone, but she had a feeling the woman used her. She needed an opportunity and Elise walked right in and handed it to her.
Speaking of which…
A choir of guffaws tore through the air, and then Myra and Tammy walked out from the back. As the night shift manager, the dark-haired woman rarely lifted a finger to help, unless she was raring to berate Elise. Seeing her come out of the office and turn her attention to the blonde worried her a bit.
“Take a break, Elise. You look like you need one.”
Myra snorted.
What was her deal? Elise tightened her jaw, but she did not disagree with Tammy. Honestly, she needed a moment to breathe; she was on the verge of tearing up. Sitting the menus back down, she quickly walked outside and stood against the building near Norway Bank and Trust.
A soreness in her throat made her tighten her jaw. Why was she being bullied? Was it because of Ace? Because he seemed to fancy her? That was an ignorant reason to pick on someone. Elise took a deep breath but after the day she had; the disappointment, the verbal abuse, she couldn't hold back her tears.
Things that did not necessarily bother her before suddenly did; her poor relationship with her mother, and her father's absence. It was like a door had been opened. Everything that led up to the move came tumbling out and the events of tonight became insignificant.
Elise sobbed.
I hate this. I hate–
The chime of a bell interrupted her. She widened her eyes and quickly dried them, just as Ace sauntered around the corner.
“There you are.”
“Yeah…I–” She paused and cleared her throat. Her voice sounded weak and broken. “If you need something, Tammy can take care of it.”
Ace snorted and leaned against the wall beside her. Even under the dim light, he could see that Elise had been crying. The girls often took things too far.
“You want me to go? I can turn back around,” Ace asked, motioning behind him.
Elise sighed. That wasn't fair.
“No.”
Ace grinned.
“Don't take what girls say to heart. They can be ruthless, even to one another.”
“They're bitches,” Elise uttered in spite.
Her statement made Ace snort. He liked her fire, but he preferred her innocence; it was much more of a turn-on. Stepping in front of her, he poked her nose in warning.
“Behave.” The irritation in her eyes amused him. He leaned down, whispering. “You're not wrong though.”
Elise chuckled. She felt a little better at least.
“So what…you came out here to tell me to ignore them.”
“I came out here to ask for a refill, but whatever makes you feel better, darling,” Ace lied.
How did he do it? How did he make her feel the way he did? Like all her worries were insignificant in contrast to him. Elise hardly knew him. She suppressed a smile and glanced into his eyes. They were a dark shade of blue that reminded her of storm clouds.
“You have pretty eyes.”
“Is that so?” Ace asked.
He thought about it, about kissing her. It wouldn't be hard to get a reaction out of her; she was emotional at the moment. Ace did not want that. So instead, he did something out of character; he opened his arms and hugged her.
Elise rested her hand against his chest and pushed him back, an action that took Ace off guard.
“I'm covered in grease.”
Ace snorted. Was that all?
“Awe. I'm flattered.”
Elise turned up her eyes. She warned him, at least. Sliding her hand around his back, she pressed herself against his chest.
“I hope you like the smell of burgers and sweat.”
Ace hugged her back. She did reek of today’s special.
“You should be more concerned about how you plan to repay me for this. My kindness doesn't come cheap, you know.”
Elise hummed, enjoying the warmth of his body and the vibration of his voice.
“I'm open to suggestions.”
Ace grinned. He had her hook, line, and sinker.
“Go out with me tomorrow. Just us.”
“My dad is visiting from Castle View for the weekend,” Elise retorted.
She missed him.
“Tomorrow evening then,” Ace suggested. “You can see him in the morning, then the rest of the day you'll be mine.”
For some reason, Elise liked the sound of that. Her heart began to race.
“Fine. Tomorrow evening.”
Ace knew she'd agree. He slid a hand into her hair and patted her head. All the pieces were starting to fall into place.
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First Time for Everything
Summary: Ace Merrill isn't unlike everyone else in aspects of he's always had a first time for everything in his life, even if he tries so hard to deny he ever had a first experience with anything.
His most recent and jarring experience is with Richard 'Eyeball' Chambers, his best friend and the real leader of their little gang.
Warning: mentions of past child abuse and child neglect, underage drinking and smoking(it's stand by me we should know these fellas aren't quite adults yet) homophobic language (it's like the 50s), Ace being a typical asshole, mental breakdowns. Mentions of self-harm, and mentions of losing a loved one. Child abuse, bullying, it... it's ace merrill...he can only be oh-so nice.
Notes: I just think they're kinda fruity✨
Ace Merrill always had his issues, his ups and downs, highs and lows in life. While contradictory to what he spews and boast, he's fallen on his ass screaming and crying for help more times than he has tripped and walked it off.
Ace was only five years old when he was back handed by his father for "Being too loud". He still feels the sting of it, how he fell to the ground and a ways away from his father.
He remembers his mother rushing to pick him up and scolding his father only for her to get back handed as well and take Ace with her to his bedroom. That was the first time he was ever back handed.
Ace was only eight when he was picked up by his pants and nap of his shirt, then chunked into the water by an older cousin.
He couldn't swim yet and was trying to teach himself to fish while at a lake house of a relatives for the thanksgiving holidays. Screaming and crying, wailing gasping on water.
He went under three times and only came up a fourth time after an Uncle jumped in to get him. He was eight the first time he nearly drowned, and thankfully the last time.
Ace was ten when he was left at school alone for three hours. His mother was in the hospital due to sickness, and his father off too drunk to remember to pick him up.
He told the ladies at the front office someone was coming to get him, and he didn't need to ride the bus home...only to walk the long long walk home.
It was a crisp autumn evening, the sun vanishing quickly and the walk to his house had no lights and he didn't have anything to ride home on.
Hot wet tears stained his face that day he dragged himself home, scared, alone and hungry and let himself in the house that was left abandoned for the night. He was ten the firs time that happened, but it wouldn't be the last.
Ace was thirteen when he was offered a ride home during winter.
A boy named Richard Chambers, a smile that was so warm it could've melted the snow, and a laugh so intoxicating it made Ace smile.
He rode a little bicycle, ruby red, an "Early Christmas gift" from his relatives down south who couldn't make the trip this year for him. It has room for someone to stand on the back.
"I normally take my little brother home, but he went home with some friends, and you live near me!" He happily told him.
Ace gladly accepted the offer and held on tight to Richard as they went up and down the large hills. Ace basked in how it felt like they were gliding, flying down the long stretches of hills and oh how he and Richard laughed and ran out of breath when they got to Ace's house. He was thirteen when he made his first ever friend.
Ace was fifteen when he experienced his first major loss in life. His mother passed away from her illness.
Ace didn't actually know what she passed away from, none of them really did. She would get more clumsy and forgetful, pass out more and more, nearly caught the house on fire....
The doctors said it was a stress induced illness. so ace took it upon himself to help her more. he learned to cook, clean, do laundry, wash dishes properly, how to keep the house tidy, and do his school work, and have dinner done in time for his lousy father to get home.
The stress free environment was never stress free however, since his father loved using him and his Mother as his punching bags after a bad day, and everyday was a bad day to that man.Ace swears he put his mother in an early grave, and he was fifteen when he lost the only person to ever protect him, he was fifteen when he vowed to hurt his father for taking away his mother. It was the first time he ever lost someone he truly loved.
Ace was fifteen when Richard joined him at the funeral. It was spring and beautiful, the perfect time for his mother to pass. "You said she always did love spring, now she'll be immortalized in it." Richard told Ace.
"What do you mean?" he croaked out, voice weak from the crying he'd been doing for the past week.
"On you know, every time you think of her, you'll think of spring, and how beautiful it is, and how nice the flowers are....That's what I do when I think of my aunt, the flowers of spring on her grave.." Richard always had a way with words, and the words made Ace cry again, and just as the fresh tears fell from his face and a sob broke out of his mouth and echoed in the still silence of the funeral, you could hear thunder and the sound of rain starting to pour down on the church while Ace wailed his heart out for his Mother. The stormy gloomy weather matching his mood. It was the first time he felt a hole in his heart and wailed until he couldn't talk.
Ace was sixteen when he learned how to replace a razor blade on his shaving razors. Ace learned quick how sharp they are and how you have to be careful with them, or how you can easily hurt yourself by accident on them. He learned that pants covered up bruises and cuts, and during the winter months when he dawns long sleeves for warmth no one questions it.
Ace learned that the thighs were the best and easiest place to cut, and how to pinch the skin. He learned having a scolding hot shower or bath that turned him a pretty pink made him bleed more. He learned the relaxation that would come with hurting himself. He was seventeen when he hurt himself to feel a litlte something. It was the first but not the last time he hurt himself on purpose.
Ace was seventeen when he felt the world collapse beneath him. He was told to get his shit together or it was off to the military with him by his Father's wrathful hands.
He discovered the joys of drinking, and smoking not just a month earlier, along with the joy of cutting and stabbing. He was seventeen when his father broke a bottle over his head and pushed Ace out of the house.
He was seventeen when his father pushed him out of a moving car at night and made Ace limp home.
He was seventeen when Richard found him....crying by the lake, and offered him his hand and a shoulder to cry on.
Ace was seventeen when his father skipped town suddenly, leaving Ace to live home alone, and with his uncle....who ran the junkyard. He was seventeen when he stabbed someone, and did a damn good job of hiding the body.
It was the first time he killed someone, and hopefully the last.
Ace was Eighteen when life got better again. Richard had formed a gang, or as he called it "A group of the local outcast Ace" and outcast they were.
Drinking, stealing, threatening, vandalizing, raising hell and smoking a pack a day nearly. They all got names that weren't their own. Ace was no one, he was John Merrill, but now? Now he was Ace...
He was special, everyone wanted an Ace for a full deck of cards, people would love and adore Ace. He was Ace Merrill, and he kicked Richard off the pedestal of leader and appointed himself the new leader, calling Richar, "Eyeball". Why? His eyes did this adorable twitch, that made Ace chuckle every time he watched his eyes wiffle and droop, twitch and make him shake his head.
He was eighteen when the cobra gang formed. It was the first time he felt alive.
Ace was eighteen again when he got a girlfriend. She only lasted about a month? Maybe two...Ace kept her around as eye candy, she was some cheerleader chick the guys bragged about who gave good favors in return for cigarettes and booz.
She was hung up on Ace like he hung the moon itself but he couldn't stand her in his lap. Or how she giggled, he hated her, she filled him with a blind rage so much so he back handed her in front of everyone one night. Screaming at her to "SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH!!" Well she didn't like that and broke up with him, and none of the guys really agreed with it. He didn't care he brushed it off.....
Until Richard pointed it out. "Ace...hey man....your acting like my dad..." His dad, Mr Fucking Chambers....no better than Ace's now dead and gone dad. Ace thinks thats the first time he really truly felt bad for hurting someone, if only due to it concerned tone from Richard.
Ace was on his seventh bottle of beer and nearly done with his pack of cigarettes when he realized how shaky he felt. How he couldn't breath, how the world spinning and seemed loud around him.
How his skin felt tight and how nothing felt like he was really there and living.
The cold air of autumn felt colder than before but welcoming, and he felt hot and sweaty, he fell off the porch steps he was on and stumbled around aimlessly before falling to his knees, unaware and oblivious to his surroundings. Ace could feel himself breathing heavy as his heart pounded in his ears before he felt like he was puking out sobs with how they didn't want to come out.
Gagging and choking on them before he wailed and screamed. He still doesn't know why just that he had clawed at his arms so badly they were red and a few spots bloodied. He remembers the coldness of that night and then the warmth and reassurance of being rocked and soothed. He couldn't breath until later and apologized profusely. It was his first, and not his last breakdown.
It wasn't until the cold harsh winter that would cover the ground in snow rolled around that Ace had to dial a lot of things back and realize a few things. He and the boys....
Didn't ever do anything during winter. Spring thought mid Autumn was their peak rebellion time, of being horrible. Winter? No one wanted to get to wild, they drank more and smoked more, flirted more and went out to diners and stole a bit more on occasion, but mostly it was a "Buckle down for school" time sadly.
Ace...ace wasn't doing good in school. How bad was it? .....He was getting by with the skin of his teeth levels bad. So here he was at the kitchen table, getting tutored from Richard in math and biology.
"So you have reading down, and spelling, history is perfect...Hey you should do that!" Richard was going through the study rubric of what all Ace was good with, so far he sucked ass with math and biology. "Do what?" Ace spoke dryly as he got up for a beer, popping the cap off as it fell onto the counter with a little tink sound.
"Go do something with history! You love the stuff, even when Mrs Johnson says your being a lazy screw off you pop off to her the right stuff! Stuff we never even know about!" Richard had that beautiful warm smile that got Ace to crack a small one before slumping in his chair.
It was the first time he considered life outside of Castlerock.
Winter break rolled around, and ace Somehow passed midterms of "See what you know" with flying colours except in math. His biology improved! But...math still suffered severely he didn't care much though. "So why are you so good with history and reading anyways Ace? Of all the things, i'd always expect you to be bad at those...no offence."
Richard always spoke the truth when it was just the two of them, and while they were once again at Ace's house, this time he was making homemade hot chocolate, yes homemade hot chocolate, for the two of them, it felt...odd. "Hmm? Oh uhhh...mom, she always...She always read big books to me, and would hold me as we listened to those radio dramas you know.." He vaguely explained as he stirred the pot holding the warm coco.
"You never talk about her...she was so sweet, why dont you talk about her Ace?" Richard seemed genuinely curious, and Ace couldn't fault him nor blame him for that. He didn't say anything just poured the hot coco into two mugs for them both, it wasn't until after he poured them he realized it was the quote on quote 'wedding' mugs his mom got for her and his father, back when they were happily married that is.
It was just matching mugs, Something with flowers...If you placed the mugs just so, next to each other it would make a cute heart.
"I just...She was...I just don't like living in the past." He stated. "You barely live in the now Ace...it doesn't hurt to talk about the past I mean..don't you ever wonder where your dad is?" Ace snapped, he didn't even mean to he just did. "HE'S IN THE GROUND WHERE HE BELONGS!" A loud bang on the table, shaking it as some coco swirled, then spilled over the sides, and a choked gasping cry left him as he covered his mouth shaking.
"...John....Hey...I'm sure that's true but...It's okay, he deserves it...come here." Ace wasn't budging and so Richard pulled the chair to him, the sound echoed in the house as it skid across the hardwood floors, and stopped when he was thigh to thigh with Richard. It was the first time he talked about his past, but not the last.
on one of them..his first one, the rest he neglected, or shoved off and away until they left him.
"Yeah im gonna get heeaaad~!!!" This made both of the boys burst into side holding laughter. Barely able to contain themselves from such a shit joke about getting head from some chick. "Okey, okey, really tho...like making out...you gonna kiss her?" Ace got slightly serious after their fit of laughter.
"....Ace I don't know how to kiss a girl.." This took Ace aback. He always thought Richard was more of a ladies man...least he saw him as such. He was handsome, sweet, a bit of well a dick at times but that added to his charm Ace felt. "Oh...that's okey, I haven't either." He foolishly confessed to him.
"You've had more girlfriends than me and haven't even kissed one!! HA! Fucking fairy!" Richard was laughing hysterically again as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. "Hey! Your one to talk! Least I've had some! You barely got the town whore to kiss your cheek! Fucking Jennett McNEeeeerrrr that CUNT what a biitch.." This earned Ace the pleasant sound of Richard wheezing from laughter, and Ace was going him soon after.
"FUuuck mee! Oh Ace...fuck man, uggh...okey...I have an idea though...why not practice on eachother?" Ace burst into more fits of laughter until his eyes fully fell on Richard who seemed dead serious and had that sly grin on his face.
"...Really? Thats faggy.." He stated taking another swig from his bottle. "Yeah, and? You wanna be good at kissing girls? What are you a pansy?" Without a moment's notice Ace took another swig of his drink and launched himself at Richard.
Half on him, half off, hands cupping his face as he pulled him towards him and littered sloppy breathless kisses all over his lips. Richard joined quickly as he dropped his bottle and pushed Ace on the grass cupping the blond's face as he moaned and whined into the kiss. It went on for what felt like hours but it quickly died when they pulled away for air. "You taste really good..." Richard breathed out. "Yeah you too..." Ace returned to him, panting and realizing they had a lot saliva over their lips and face. Seems they were a bit messy with this whole kissing thing.
"Wanna go again?" Richard barely had time to gather himself before Ace was back ontop him kissing him deeply and letting a few giggles escape them both as they started tussling on the grass.
It was a month til Summer, and just four days before Graduation. Ace was sitting in the Principles office, leg bouncing up and down as his right hand covered his mouth, the other held a death grip on his bag.
Something about his grades and passing, he was terrified. He didnt want to be held back again, he dididn'tant to be alone again, he dididn'tant to deal with any of them at all.
"Merrill John? Come here now please" Oh he felt sick, he could feel his lunch wanting to come out the way it went down. He felt sweaty yet was freezing to death, his heart was pounding, and his breaths were severely uneven.
"So John, take a seat," He fell into the chair in the small office. Looking around seeing normal things. Books, files, couple plants, small trinkets, normal office no different than the counsellors. "So You have been doing wonderful in History, as well as English which is good! Your Science/biology has greatly improved to where your passing.....now your math." Oh god.
Oh god no, not the math, it cant be that of all fucking things, MATH!? That will be his downfall he SWEARS! MATH! OF ALL THINGS!!!
"It's still quite low, but the good news is-" He didnt hear the Principle, he already dropped his bag and pulled the trashcan that was in his office to vomit into. Gagging a few time before his lunch came up.
"Christ almighty Merrill! Now! Do you need the nurse before we continue? John! God son calm down, your not failing!! You passed math! The grading period is done! You passed!! Your extra curricular dont count towards graduating calm down!!! Go To the nurse! Take the can with you!!" Ace gave an extremely weak nod before puking again, he couldn't help it sadly. All this stress, all this anxiety and worry came out in the form of him sweating and puking, better than crying and weeping he supposed.
He did get to lay down for a bit in the Nurse's office with an ice pack, so that was nice, and Richard took him out as congratulations for passing math finally.
"Took you til graduation but hey! You made it!!"
He did..he did make it didnt he?
Graduation went as well as anyone could have predicted. Which was shockingly well! Ace wasn't even the trouble maker there! It was some other guy named Adam....who thought it would be funny to steal a few awards and hide them, making everyone sit around for an extra hour.
Ace and Richard didnt mind, sneaking close to eachother to talk and make fun of everyone, already reminiscing about thier prom that they barely attended, and what all they would be doing after graduating.
"thinking about getting a job out of town maybe...or in town and moving one day." Richard told him. "Yeah? sounds good...sounds good..." Ace told him. "What about you Ace?" "Hmmm? Oh uhh...I dont know...maybe work at the mechanics shop for a bit...." He wanted to go with Richard, where he went he wanted to follow, where he would go he wanted to be there with him. Where Richard went he wanted to be there home, to welcome him, or vise vera.
"Im gonna miss our study days.." Ace weakly confessed. "Dont have to! Might go to college and we can help eachother!" Collage...he forgot all about that, college...oh what would he do with College? What would he go to school for.. "Heh..yeah college..yeah...." the conversation ended quickly after as everyone was ushered into the Gymnazium where graduation was being held.
Richard passed with a very high score, all things considered, and Ace passed with an Honors in history and english...
He passed with honours in two of his classes...
The summer was hot as always, even when it was heading back into fall, but while speeding down a strip of the well known and worn path of Castlerock, hte Cobra gang was once again rasing hell for one last time, yelling, screaming, causing hell for one last time.
Why the last time? Well Ace was starting work soon, as was Richard, and they found a college the next town over, offered dormitories, and thier work would be in that town. So this was the last time to raise hell before making the long drives to work and start college.
The summer was full of swimming, fun, fights, more theft, and of course, Richard and Ace being together constantly. That brat of Richard's brother even joined them a few times.
As the day was winding down to a final end, and everyone was dropped off, Richard stuck with Ace walking with him to his house. "So...You wanna admit it?" He asked out of the blue. "Admit what?" Ace sounded confused as he said this. "Admit that your a homo, a fairy like my brother teased you about~" Ace could deal with meny meny things, but Richard getting that chim in his voice? He couldn't ever deal with it. "NO! Im not!! Fucking door won't open!" Ace always fumbled whenever Richard made him flustered, he couldn't help it the guy had him wrapped around him like string.
"Come onnn~ Admit it Acey!" He leaned against the door nearly pinning Ace against the door as he gave him a quick little kiss.
"Im not!!" Ace finally got the door open and rushed inside with Richard following closely behind. "I think you are! We always make out! Kiss! I know you've gotten off to me and well come on what guys moan each others names and give each other hand jobs Ace!?!" Richard had a very valid point to all that..
"Its not! Its! Its not! Not!!! Its only faggy if you fuck another guy!!" Ace was red now. "Oh so you giving me head in the car at lovers peak doesn't mean anything~" Oh he had a point.. "NO! IT! No it doesn't!! You have to...to penetrate them...you know...like with girls.." Ace told him.
"Well i mean...we got time, got all night, next week we start getting ready for collage~ dont see why not...Come onnn John!!" Ace didnt sya anything he just stared at a spot on the floor while leaning up against the wall. He wasn't expecting this tonight.
"I dont know..." He softly spoke out. "I'll be gentle! i wont hurt you!" "Yeah but we dont even know how to do that! Why do you think we've stuck with hand jobs! And Whos gonna penetrate who Dick!" Ace was yelling and more scared and anxious than anything, "How about I take care of you on the bed doll~" "NO! Not tonight no!! fucking goddamn whisky always makes you a horndog!" It didnt take Ace long to march upstairs to his room.
"There's a first for eveything you know Richard..." Ace sighed out and laid by Richard. Both glowing in the aftermath of thier orgasms, thier first, penetrate orgasm at that. "Yeah...yeah there is....fuck..." Ace recovered fairly fast from his orgasm, and was smoking, while Richard laid our catching his breath. "What do you mena theres a first for eveything?" Richard asked him. "Oh you know....first time to fall, first time to hurt yourself, first time to....lose someone..first time to...smoke, to drink, to nearly drown, to kill, to...to everything." He had a sour taste in his mouth suddenly. "First time to love~ First time to fall in love and last time, first time to kiss the most handsome guy in all of Castlerock, first time to moan your name and you mine, first time to go on a date, first time to cuddle~" Richard was curling up on Ace dragging him down to get him to go to bed with him and put his cigarette out.
Ace gave in and put it out before cosying up against Richard in the bed.
There really was a first for everything wasn't there?
#stand by me#ace merrill#stand by me fanfic#ace merrill fanfic#fic#ace x eyeballs#ace x richard#i dont remember their weirdly cutesy shipname....#not beta read at alllll#kiefer fans come get yalls JUICE#kiefer sutherland#i want this fic SEEN DAMNIT#fact! ace merrils name is john...and he was only 16 when he tormented the bkys in the film!! i had lkts to do and go off of✨️✨️
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Stand by me
Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5 • Chapter 6
Summary: Din Djarin, a young introvert Mandalorian, meets the golden boy Luke Skywalker on Naboo the last year of high school. He’s about to learn that love’s not easy when you are not willing to embrace your feelings.
Or 5 times Din comforts Luke after a break up, and 1 time Din shows him that he’s a keeper.
Pairing: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker.
Characters: Din Djarin, Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa, Paz Vizsla, The Armorer, Anakin Skywalker, Padmè Amidala, Grogu, Cara Dune, Greef Karga, Biggs Darklighter, Boba Fett, Obi Wan Kenobi, Fennec Shand, Wedge Antilles, Han Solo, Omera, Winta, Mara Jade, Cobb Vanth, Mace Windu, Master Yoda, Moff Gideon, Sheev Palpatine.
Rating: Mature (+18)
Warnings: Canon typical violence, Smut.
Tags: Canon Divergence AU, 5+1 Things, Meet-Cute, Miscommunication, Friends To Lovers, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Angst, Fluff, Bisexual Luke Skywalker, Demisexual Din Djarin, Protective Din Djarin, Top Din Djarin, Bottom Luke Skywalker, Coming Of Age, Possessive Behaviour (not from the main characters), Toxic Relationship (not between the pairing), Sassy Anakin Skywalker, Confused Din Djarin, Human Disaster Paz Vizsla, Adorable Baby Yoda.
Chapters: 6/6.
Navigation: <- Previous Chapter
They rolled over on the mattress, Luke giggled lifting his leg, pressing it against Din's waist. Din held his thigh, leaving a trail of kisses down his neck and chest "We could do this right now, cyar'ika." He said in a low voice.
"I know." Luke said quietly, his beautiful hands stroking Din's hair. "I've learned every word by heart, hoping..." He trailed off, he breathed in "Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde."
Chapter 6: Naboo
I could stay lost in this moment forever - Aerosmith
The air was getting thin inside the high council tower, Anakin crossed his legs staring at Obi-Wan sideways, a smirk appearing on his face.
"You have lost your mind, Master Skywalker." Mace Windu said, resting his elbow on the armrest.
Obi-Wan tried to intervene "Luke had no choice, Master Windu." He looked at Anakin in a reassuring way. Nodding.
Anakin took a deep breath "Master Windu, my son came to me and told me about his decision." He nodded half smiling "And I trust my son's judgement. Always."
Windu stared at him, then turned to face Master Yoda.
"The child with the mandalorian is, change that we can not. Help Luke we must." The Great Master spoke.
Windu sighed displeased.
"Thank you, Master." Anakin bowed at him in respect. "I might add that the child is safe."
"But we don't know where." Master Windu remarked.
Anakin frowned, staring at him with piercing eyes, then his expression softened, he chuckled "You know, Master Windu, I have this recurring dream in which I am standing before you and witness the way something pushes you out the window and you just disappear into the dark Coruscant's night." He laughed mockingly.
Windu sighed "Not the window dream again, Anakin." Anakin kept laughing. "I'm serious, a Padawan is in danger and your son made a stupid decision." He huffed "Sending little Grogu with a mandalorian..."
Anakin went serious, he cleared his throat "That mandalorian is a skilled warrior and a good man. The kid loves him."
"I don't care if your son is in love with that mandalorian." Windu retorted.
Anakin flinched uncrossing his legs, leaning forward on his seat, Obi-Wan shook his head. "I was talking about Grogu. Not about my son." He pressed his lips together "Don't you ever talk about my son's private life like that again."
~
Two weeks later, Anakin was sitting on the settee in his living room, his elbow resting on the armrest, his fist covering his plump lips, deeply absorbed in thought.
"Father?" He moved his head to see his son approaching him, the blonde Jedi walking slowly.
Anakin smiled fondly, patting the seat next to him "Sit down, young Skywalker."
Luke complied and his father couldn't stop staring into his eyes. Luke frowned "What is it dad? Are you alright?"
Anakin nodded blinking, shifting his gaze "Yes." Luke rested his hand on his thigh, Anakin looked down, putting his hand on his son's "I called you to tell you we had a meeting today, the council made a decision."
Luke sighed, closing his eyes.
"But first, tell me the real reason you asked Don to take the youngling with him."
Luke pulled a face tilting his head "It's Din, dad, Din." His father chuckled. "Well, I told you, I don't trust the order, someone inside..."
Anakin cut him off "No. No. I don't want the official version, I want to know why him? Why did you choose the mandalorian?"
"I trust him, besides, he's like a father to Grogu." Luke smiled "He might as well adopt the little one."
"Oh." His father arched his eyebrows "And that's it? That's all?" He insisted.
Luke narrowed his eyes, staring at his father "That's all."
Anakin hummed, rubbing his thighs with both hands, he leaned back and not breaking eye contact with Luke he sighed "Why are you so afraid, son?"
"What?" The blonde man frowned.
"What are you waiting for? I know that you think you can fool your poor old man, but, bottom line, you can't."
Luke looked away.
"Look at me, Luke. Come on, tell me. What are you doing here, on Coruscant, talking to your father instead of protecting the man you love?"
Luke sighed rolling his eyes "It's not that simple, dad."
"You love him, he loves you... It seems very simple to me." The old man deadpanned.
Luke smiled wrinkling his nose, shaking his head incredulous "I think he does." He chuckled.
"Oh, boy." Anakin said clapping his hands, Luke winced. "You think? Kriff, Luke! That man have been loving you since you were kids."
"That's not true. He didn't love me back then." His eyelashes brushing his cheeks as he stared down.
"Bantha shit! You only needed to be more obvious, son. If I were you I would have totally gave him a good blowj"
"Dad!" Luke yelled, cutting him off. "Alright, I tried, okay?" Anakin frowned. "I threw myself to him, practically naked I should add, and he rejected me."
Anakin was pursing his lips "Maybe it's not about the sex, I was joking, son. But I can totally see that he is your Padmé." He nodded.
Luke stared at him, frozen, his breath going faster "And that!" He stood up "That shit right there! Stop telling me that! I won't find my Padmé, because I already have one, and guess what, dad, she's my mom!"
Anakin squirmed in the large couch, avoiding his son's face.
"And I'm not you. I'm not you! I'm living my own life, and I was trying to please you, all this time. And I was miserable, trying to meet your standards!"
"Gods, son, breathe!"
Luke was panting, his eyes cloudy, the tip of his ears red, his hands curled into fists.
"I love Din, he rejected me and I've been looking for love in someone else's arms, I didn't find it, because I'm a mess, and all I want is to be with him, to wake up next to him and tell him that I will love him until the day I die." He blinked back tears, swallowing through the lump in his throat. "I'm not you, I didn't find love at a young age, I don't need my Padmé, I need my Din." A tear running down his cheek.
Anakin stood up slowly, cupping his wet cheek in his hand "Then fight for him." He nodded, meeting his son's blue eyes. "Let's finish this. We're leaving in two hours."
Luke was now paying attention to his father again.
"I can hear him calling me through the force, Luke." He whispered like he was sharing a secret. Luke frowned.
"It's him, he's still alive, the man that tortured me for years, trying to make me turn to the dark side." He pressed his forehead against Luke's "I want him dead, he's the one behind all of this."
Luke gasped "Palpatine? The former supreme chancellor?" He asked sheepishly.
His father nodded "Be ready, the entire council is going. Even Master Yoda."
Luke smiled, they've finally moved forward.
~
When Din heard that his friend Cara was on a mission on Sorgan, he knew that it could be the best place in the galaxy to keep Grogu safe.
The child was toddling across the grass, Din was resting his back against the hut's frame door, Cara was sipping spotchka sitting on the floor next to him.
He had never seen the child so happy before, the kid was playing surrounded by other children, he was in his element.
Din's heart swelled with pride, staring at the little green bean. Omera walked out the hut, nodding "He looks so happy." She smiled.
Din looked at her, thinking about the way the woman made him feel the night before.
She was taking care of Grogu, feeding him, caressing his little forehead, she looked up at Din with sincere eyes as she smiled tenderly. Din's heart skipped a beat.
That was new, he has never felt something like that for anyone but Luke, he was confused, he couldn't wrap his head around it. He knew he was in love with Luke, but he was taken aback by Omera's softness and kindness.
She was a widow, she lived with her daughter, Winta, in a cozy hut. She took Din and Grogu in, making them feel at home.
That night, Winta fell asleep holding Grogu's hand, Din watched them, smiling behind his helmet.
"They look like siblings." Omera said sitting next to him, bringing him out of his thoughts.
She covered Din's hand on the table with her own, searching for his eyes behind the black visor.
Din looked down.
Cara and him helped the villagers fight against some raiders a few weeks before, he was living a different life now, he wasn't hunting some outlaw across the galaxy. He was having a taste of heaven.
He thought about Luke. His Luke. His millaflower. His angel.
No, heaven wasn't complete, not when an angel was missing. And he missed Luke, he missed him so much that it hurt.
"You two can stay here all the time you need." The woman said with a soft voice.
Din looked back at Grogu.
"What is it, Din?" She asked squeezing his hand.
"We're hiding, we won't stay here for too long." He cleared his throat "I'm just waiting for him to contact me."
"Him?" Omera asked curious.
Din looked at her nodding "My love. The man I love."
"Oh." She withdrew her hand from Din's, gingerly.
Din's heart clenched when he said that out loud, remembering that Luke knew it by now. That he finally said those words to him. But the Jedi didn't say a word. He just stood there, staring at him. He didn't say he loves me back.
Omera smiled "Well, you're welcome to stay till then."
Din nodded, he was about to thank her when they heard a blaster shot, breaking the peaceful silent night. Din grabbed Omera by her arm and he headed towards the children's bed kneeling, shielding the three of them.
He heard steps approaching the hut, he drew his blaster to point at the entrance, waiting. He was about to shoot when he saw his friend Cara, she locked eyes with him.
"I found a bounty hunter outside the village. Don't worry, he's kriffing dead." She sighed "But Din, I'm pretty sure he was after the kid."
Din sheeted his blaster raising off his knees, he looked at Omera, she was holding the two kids tight, soothing them.
Heaven was gone.
~
Din was feeling distressed, he looked down at the baby's eyes, afraid of failing him. Grogu held his finger in his clawed hand. "Let's see where I can take you, ad'ika." He said getting inside the Razor Crest. Leaving the village behind. Leaving Cara, Omera and Winta behind.
He turned around to press the button to close the ramp when a punch landed on his left ribs, letting him breathless.
His body hunched forward, he groaned in pain, seeing the baby on the floor, hearing his whines. He tried to reach the kid, but the aggressor kicked his ribs, choosing that part of his body again in order to inflict him more pain.
"Gods!" He yelled, he was now on his knees pressing his hand on his bruised ribs, the man kicked his helmet this time, Din's back hit the floor. He crossed his arms, shielding himself, the man ignited a saber that Din recognized as the darksaber.
He kept blocking the man's attacks, the darksaber trying to reach the parts the beskar wasn't covering.
It felt like hours. Din was exhausted, gasping for air, in pain.
Finally, Din pointed at the man with his flamethrower, and fired it, the man covered himself, taking a few steps back.
When the man opened his eyes and lowered his arm, Din was behind him, pointing at his neck with his vibroknife "Move and you're dead."
The man moved swiftly, and Din grabbed his legs, the man fell on his knees as Din was holding his head with both hands now, "I won't hesitate this time, I will twist your neck."
The man nodded, closing his eyes, understanding he was defeated. Din passed his arm around his neck, tightening the grip, he pressed and pressed, until the man fainted.
He looked around for Grogu, his heart running fast. "Grogu! Kid! Where are you?" The kid wasn't where he saw him last time. "No. No. No."
He was losing his mind when he heard a soft chirp coming from behind some baskets. "Grogu." He said walking towards the baskets as fast as he could. The baby appeared from behind, smiling at him.
Din sighed in relief taking the kid in his arms "Dank farrik, ad'ika! Let me see if you're hurt."
The baby cooed happily tapping his helmet with his little hands. "I assume you're not hurt then, huh?" He chuckled.
Once he secured the ship, as well as the baby in the improvised hammock he fixed for him in his bunk, he took the man to the ship's cargo and yanked him unconscious into a carbon freezing chamber.
He frowned staring at the darksaber lying on the floor, extinguished. He took it in his hand, he sighed, so this is Bo-Katan's sable, he thought.
He swallowed hard, knowing that he defeated the man that was wielding the darksaber, and according to creed winning that saber in combat made you the Mand'alor, Mandalore's true leader.
Din drew in a sharp inhale "No." He shook his head heading towards the cockpit. "Kriff! I don't need this right now."
Once in the cockpit he hit the coordinates, the aggressor wielding the darksaber changed the scenery, he wouldn't hide the child anymore, he was returning to Coruscant.
~
Leia walked towards Din, her big brown eyes shining, she pressed her lips together, a nod, a brief smile, as she reached out to take Grogu in her arms.
"Welcome little one." She said caressing the kid's chin with her index finger. She looked up at Din "Welcome my friend."
Din caressed her arm, fondly. He didn't realize how much he missed her until he saw her again.
She stared at his visor, her expression going serious "I'm so glad you're here, please, follow me."
"What happened, Lei?" He asked, afraid.
She pursed her lips.
~
After leaving Grogu with Obi-Wan in one of the classroom's temple, Leia took him to the infirmary.
Din was crying in silence behind his beskar, she stroked his forearm, attempting to soothe him.
Din walked inside the room, Luke was lying on the gurney, his eyes closed, there were medical droids around him, monitoring vital signs.
Din fell to his knees by the bed's side, staring at Luke's face "Luke." He said under his breath, his voice breaking. He caressed his arm, noticing that his right hand was missing.
Leia held him by his pauldrons gently "Please, Din, come outside."
Din kept watching the droids working on his cyar'ika through the big window, he stood guard carefully for two hours.
"Mandalorian."
He flinched uncrossing his arms, he looked at the man standing beside him.
Anakin was staring at Luke, he looked calmed, serene "He's going to be fine. He's recovering so well."
Din frowned under his helmet "He's unconscious, sir."
Anakin hummed "But he's tough."
"I know."
Silence.
"The man you brought..." Anakin looked at him sideways "Did you know he was Gideon?"
"What? No, that's impossible, I thought..." He made a pause.
"Luke did good, you protected the child with your life. Gideon was there to kidnap Grogu." Anakin narrowed his eyes.
Din felt his blood going iced.
"That motherfucker didn't see it coming though." Anakin added clenching his jaw.
"What thing?" Din asked expectant.
"That at the same time he was on your ship we were killing his Lord." He sighed. "This is on me... Luke, Grogu, even you." He stared at Luke again. "Palpatine was trying to get to me again, he wanted to clone Grogu, though I don't know why, and he wanted my son dead. He knew that losing Luke would finally lead me to the dark side."
"I don't understand, sir." Din's head was spinning.
"It's a long story." He sighed "I'm so proud of my son, he faced Palpatine when I was lying on the floor, the man cut his hand off." Din squeezed his eyes shut. "And it didn't stop Luke, he kept fighting him, shielding me as I felt tears running down my face."
"Luke..." Din whispered, his throat tightening.
"The only thing that stopped him was when Palpatine used force lightning against him, he finally dropped to his knees as Leia reached out to hold him. His eyes closed and Master Yoda beheaded Palpatine while he was still hurting my Luke."
Anakin swallowed hard, blinking back tears. "He saved me, Din, he saved me in every way a human can be saved. And I love him, I love him."
Din's shoulders slumped, his hands trembling.
"This is over, don't worry, we already discovered who was helping Gideon from inside the order, she's under arrest, and I can assure you, they won't see the light of the day again." Anakin looked down, staring at the saber hanging from Din's utility belt.
"We contacted your mother, she's coming to Coruscant, so you can give the darksaber to her, just like you instructed Leia. Are you still thinking it's a good idea to hide the fact that you're now the new Mand'alor?" He asked narrowing his eyes.
"Yes, Sir, it belongs to Bo-Katan, I want to keep it that way." Din answered in a low voice.
Anakin nodded "Now, go mandalorian, sit next to my boy, hold his hand, I know he will appreciate waking up next to you." He nodded.
~
Din was holding Luke's left hand, his head hanging down, he was falling asleep when he felt Luke's fingers moving weakly around his own.
He leaned forward staring at Luke's face, happiness taking him over "Cyare? Luke?" He asked chuckling when he finally saw those beautiful blue eyes.
Din took Luke's hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles softly, Luke hummed closing his eyes, stirring under the sheets.
"How do you feel, cyar'ika?" Din asked kissing the palm of his hand now.
"Never been better." The blonde laughed graciously.
Din looked into his eyes dumbfounded, Luke propped himself up on his elbows, to press his forehead against Din's "Are you really here?" Luke asked shivering, stroking the back of Din's head.
"Yes, love, I'm really here." Din pressed a kiss on his cheek.
Luke sighed "Grogu?"
Din smiled staring into his eyes "He's here too. Safe."
Luke nodded, sighing again, this time in relief.
They both winced when Leia and Padmé entered the room running, Din pulled away from Luke, making room for his sister and mother. He smiled walking away, putting his helmet on.
~
Din was holding his buir so tight that he almost felt like the foundling she once saved from a certain death again. Scared and hopeless.
"I am so pleased to see you again, my son." She said caressing his face.
"And so am I, buir." He said leaning into her touch.
The moment he handed her off the darksaber he felt lighter, in peace. "We'll stick to the official version, the Jedi found it in a temple." He said staring at the saber in his mother's hands.
"Nobody won it in combat." She added. Din nodded. "We'll see you then, my son."
"I'm going with you, buir." Din said holding her arm.
"Oh no, you stay here for a while, I know Luke is recovering, and I can read you like one of those ancient mandalorian books."
Din flinched "Buir?" He asked not understanding what his mother was implying.
She cupped his face in her hands "You deserve to be happy my beloved son, take your time, Paz and I can manage this, you know that."
Din stared into his buir's visor, blinking, utterly touched by her words.
"Those pretty eyes, those are the eyes of a man who knows that I'm right." She said fondly.
Din couldn't hide it anymore.
~
Late at night, Din was leaving Grogu's room, walking down the corridor, when Luke approached him. "I was looking for you." The blonde said, taking Din's hands in his own.
Din looked down astonished "Luke, your hand..." He said under his breath.
Luke chuckled "It's a prosthetic hand, as good as the old one, right?" Din caressed the back of his right hand, reverently. "Din, love, listen, I'm leaving tonight."
Din tilted his helmeted head "What?"
Luke nodded "Uh-huh, I'm going to Naboo, to take a few days off. Would you come with me?" He asked, staring at Din's visor, his eyes glistening.
"Yes." He answered in a split second.
"Alright, all settled, leave the Razor Crest here, Han and Leia are dropping us on Coruscant. We're staying there for at least a week." He smiled, caressing Din's helmet.
"But..." He trailed off, noticing Luke's soft expression, he would prefer to take Luke to Naboo on his own ship, he pressed his lips together "Sure, mesh'la." He said instead.
Luke smiled, putting a hand on the back of Din's helmet bringing their foreheads together "You deserve some rest, babe."
Din smiled. He was right.
~
The flight was a nightmare, even when he loved the Tatooine Suns, Solo's cockiness was unbearable. Din was eager to spend some time alone with his cyare, Solo kept preventing that. It was obvious the man hated Din with a burning passion.
Naboo looked as beautiful as Din remembered. He leaned his hands on the balcony, the landscape before his eyes sending shivers down his spine.
"You're a vision, Din." He heard Luke saying, he turned around only to find his angel encircling his waist. He sighed resting his head on Din's shoulder.
"Cyare." Din stroked his back, madly in love. Finally. They were finally alone.
Luke hummed nuzzling his neck, whispering against his skin, the sweet hot puffs tying knots in Din's abdomen.
"What are you whispering, cyar'ika?" Din asked tightening his arms around him.
Luke caressed the nape of Din's head, playing with his brown locks, he pressed a soft kiss on his neck. Din groaned, the tip of his fingers digging into Luke's back.
"I love you." The blonde said pulling back enough to stare into Din's eyes. "I love you, Din." He said again, his eyes traveling down, fixed on Din's lips now. He run his thumb over Din's lower lip.
Din's heart was pounding against his ribs, he wanted to hear those words over and over again, he wanted to stay in that moment forever. He parted his lips, smiling, then he kissed Luke's thumb, he closed his eyes, opening them again to look into Luke's "I'm yours Luke, I'm yours, even when we were apart you were always there."
Luke drew in a sharp inhale while Din planted a kiss on the palm of his hand.
"I've always been in love with you." Din said, his voice breaking "I would give everything to make you happy, would you let me, cyare? Would you let me make you happy?"
Luke's face was open to him, his eyes so big and he couldn't stop smiling, he looked like a child, and Din hated himself for making him wait for so long.
Luke pushed Din with one hand, and Din frowned feeling confused "Cyar'ika?" He asked sheepishly. All of sudden Luke cornered him, pinning him against the strong balcony column.
Din gasped staring down at his face while Luke was grabbing him by his cape around his neck, pulling Din in in a desperate kiss. Din put his arms around his Jedi, thinking he could float any minute now, Luke's lips on his own felt like the first ray of sun after a long cold night.
Luke was making little noises that made Din forget everything around them, Din started running his hands all over his Jedi.
Luke's hands threaded in his hair, the kiss so deep that Din couldn't take it anymore, he broke the kiss pulling back a little, Luke's eyes looked like a slim blue ring around his blown black pupils. His angel looked totally wrecked, with his ruffled hair, his robes loosened, his lips red and glistening and his cheeks like two strawberries.
"Kriff I'm so in love with you, Luke." Din said cupping his face in his hands and Luke closed his eyes taking a deep breath. Din kissed him again, but this time softly, Luke tilted his head caressing Din's waist.
"Din?" He asked opening his eyes, Din looked at him, expectant. "I've been waiting for this since we were seventeen." He narrowed his eyes and Din's heart plummeted out of guilty. "I want you to know, every time you comforted me after a breakup, I wasn't sad only because those relationships didn't work, but also because I couldn't have you." He said and tears were filling his eyes slowly.
"I'm so sorry, Luke, I'm sorry, love, I should have known that I was hurting you by being such a coward..." Din was caressing his face desperately, as the tears rolled down Luke's cheeks. "No." Din managed to say almost choking.
"Don't say that, you're not a coward, you've never been that. You're here, that's all that matters." Luke said kissing his jaw, soothing him by running his hands over his arms "You're here, with me, and I love you, Din." He smiled against his skin "I love you..." He whispered kissing Din's lips again.
Din tossed his head back, letting his Jedi devour him, pulling his hair every time Luke sucked on the skin of his neck "Kriff, cyar'ika." He said out of breath, no my love, this time I won't stop you.
~
He had never seen something more beautiful and intoxicating in his entire life, he had fantasized about this moment so many times before but nothing could have prepared him for what he was seeing and feeling.
Luke was staring into his eyes while Din was thrusting slow and deep inside him, his legs wrapped around Din's waist "Let me see you, Din." He said when Din tried to hide his face against his neck, not able to take everything Luke was offering.
His pretty face in ecstasy, his hands grasping his shoulders, the noises he was making, his name falling from his lips, the way his body shivered beneath Din's. It was too much, it was overwhelming.
Din's heart was burning and he was losing his mind, his pace going faster. Luke hissed through gritted teeth, eyes closed. Beautiful, beautiful. "Kriff, Luke, you're killing me, please cyare, I won't last." Din pleaded but the tight heat of Luke around him was punishing him, he had to close his eyes, focusing on last a little longer.
"Don't care, just..." Luke moaned sinfully "Just feel me, Din, and let yourself go."
Din groaned as Luke clenched around him "Fuck, Luke, fuck!" He said against Luke's lips, their mouths brushing every time Din rocked his hips, Luke wrapped his arms around Din's neck and they were sharing sloppy kisses, moaning inside each other's mouth.
Din was supporting himself with his forearms on the mattress "Din..." Luke moaned deeply, biting Din's bottom lip. Din let out a whine and passed one arm under Luke's back, lifting the Jedi enough to change the angle.
Luke's eyes widened "Yes, Din, ah, yes, like that." He moved finding Din's thrusts "Stars! Just like that!"
Din rested his face against Luke's, closing his eyes, twitching inside him, his rhythm faltering, his whole body exploding, his free hand closing in a fist around Luke's shaft, stroking him.
Luke came so sweet and lovely over his hand moaning his name and Din felt the way he clenched around him, he pressed Luke's body against his own, grabbing him by his hips, thrusting up until he felt his cyar'ika going boneless, his own body tensing.
He came inside Luke in silence, breathing heavily against his neck. "Gods, I love you." Din said still holding him tight, still inside him.
Luke didn't say a word.
They collapsed against the mattress. For a second Din was feeling anxious. This was the first time in ages he was in this situation and he noticed the way Luke went silent. He was panicking.
But he was so satisfied, so in love, that he could only stare at his cyare's face, lying beside him, contemplating his afterglow. "Cyare..."
Luke looked at him smiling, he propped himself up on his elbow, leaning forward to stroke Din's cheek and jaw. He bit his lower lip, "Leia told me it was different." He said breathlessly. His hair damped, plastered to his lovely face.
Din cleared his throat "What's different?" He asked brushing Luke's bangs, to see his blue eyes.
"Making love for the first time." Luke whispered boring into Din's eyes, his lips slightly curling up.
Din groaned as he grabbed Luke by his nape "Stars, baby, come here." He said kissing Luke's lips, caressing his cheek, praising him between nips and tongues that found each other. "I don't deserve you, Luke." He said honestly, as his eyes were downcast.
Luke cupped his chin lifting his head to look into his eyes, Din blinked with lips parted. "It's funny cause I feel the same about you." The blonde chuckled.
Din didn't blink now, not even once, lost in those ocean eyes, he wanted to give him the galaxy, he wanted to give him everything, he sighed shivering. He caressed Luke's chest, the tip of his fingers brushing the still heated skin, he easily felt Luke's heart thumping against his touch.
"Be my clan, Luke." He said holding his breath.
Luke put his own hand over Din's, he closed his eyes nodding, he leaned forward kissing Din again, he smiled into the kiss, softly opening his eyes, looking up at his lover "Yes, Din, yes, I want to marry you."
Din's heart skipped more than just one beat.
Gods, Luke!
They rolled over on the mattress, Luke giggled lifting his leg, pressing it against Din's waist. Din held his thigh, leaving a trail of kisses down his neck and chest "We could do this right now, cyar'ika." He said in a low voice.
"I know." Luke said quietly, his beautiful hands stroking Din's hair. "I've learned every word by heart, hoping..." He trailed off, he breathed in "Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde."
Din froze listening the perfect mando'a that escaped his angel's lips. He kissed Luke desperately, tears running down his cheeks, he repeated the wedding vows in basic "We are one together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors." He cried resting his forehead against Luke's.
Luke wrinkled his nose "Husband." He sighed caressing Din's nape.
"Riduur..." Din said nodding, his voice breaking.
They kept holding each other. The warm breeze of Naboo's night waving the curtains, caressing their bodies, embracing them. The sweet scent of millaflower overwhelming their senses.
~
Luke was standing on his tiptoes, his chin resting on Din's shoulder, his arms encircling him from behind. He moved his face to kiss Din's neck. They were contemplating the sunrise, maybe not anymore.
Din hummed caressing his hands "Cyare." He smiled closing his eyes.
Luke pulled his head back "Are we a clan of three?" He asked quietly.
Din frowned "What?"
"Have you adopted Grogu?" He asked now, searching for Din's eyes.
Din's heart skipped a beat, he didn't adopt Grogu, not because he didn't want to, but because he was on a mission and he was a man of honour.
"I haven't." Din answered hesitantly.
Luke hummed pressing another kiss on his neck "What are you waiting for, love?"
Din turned around slowly, staring at his husband's eyes, incredulous "Luke?"
"We promised to raise warriors." He stroked Din's chest "And I know he's already your son, not matter what. I want, I want Grogu in our lives."
"Cyare..." Din took him in his arms and kissed him with his heart full of love "Yes, cyare, we're going to be a clan of three as soon as we get to Coruscant."
Luke stared into his eyes, smiling "I can't wait to see our son's little face again, honey."
Din's eyes roamed his angel's face so happy, so in love, Luke calling Grogu their son took his breath away.
"Tomorrow?" Din asked, his throat tightening out of emotion.
"Tomorrow." Luke took his hand walking him into their room again. "But now, I want to spend the day in bed with my husband's arms around me." He chuckled.
Din laughed squeezing his hand "Today and the next day, and the next, and the next..." He said pulling Luke against his body, kissing him one more time "I'm gonna kiss you all day long, riduur."
Luke chuckled against his lips "Good."
Good.
Eventually, Luke fell asleep in Din's arms.
Din stayed awake, caressing Luke's arms, staring at his face, so serene, peaceful, and when his riduur grimaced in his sleep Din soothed his frowning by running his thumb softly between Luke's eyebrows.
He contemplated everything about his angel, the sound of his breath, the way his chest moved, the softness of his skin and hair. Yes, I love you, cyare.
And Luke woke up next to his husband, feeling his arms around his body, and he smiled at Din, closing his eyes, resting his head on his chest.
Forever, Luke. Forever.
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Rory Gilmore X Ace Merrill
I feel like Ace Merrill is the jealous type.
#ace x rory#rory x ace#rory gilmore#ace merrill#rory gilmore headcannon#ace merrill headcanons#gilmore girls#stand by me#stand by me fanfic#gilmore girls fanfiction#headcannons#fanfiction
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Fanfic covers I made that I’m not using
#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things#the lost boys#the lost boys fanfiction#hocus pocus#fanfiction#fanfic#my book covers#wattpad cover#wattpad#wattpad story#the black phone#the black phone fanfic#supernatural fanfiction#stand by me#stand by me fanfic#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction
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#polls#personally i dont like it but thats only because i dont like fandom. the type of stuff that gets the most attention#in fandom usually just annoys me idk. how to explain it in a way that wont come off as me saying#fanfic or whatever is evil its just the fact that it just bombards alot of the conversations?#i prefer it when the thing i like has 10 fans and theyre all on one message board or forum#like for example mtvs downtown is getting popular but apart from annoying#'me and the mid nerd guy i copped by being weird and sexy' posts its not awful....#but then smth like... clone high or smth i suddenly cant remember ppl just got so annoying abt that show??#like i cant stand it i dont even bother watching it anymore plus its just weird to me now like i can't watch it regardless#im just rambling but personally i do not like it. like i dont want what i like to get a revival#i dont want anything new! i just want to enjoy the thing and move on 😭#fandom seems to prioritize shipping and memes over evaluating or simply just enjoying something!#this goes for anything. music film tv books....
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Can’t help falling in love
summary: 5 times Aemond was in love with you + 1 time he finally confessed his feelings
warnings: friends to lovers (at the age of 9, 10, 15, 17, 19), a pinch of angst (Aemond healing after losing his eye), but overall so fluffy and sweet you may want to skip dessert
words: ~ 5500 (I got reeeally carried away with that love confession)
1.
Aemond is weeks away from his tenth birthday and he feels as miserable as ever. That feeling is an iron weight upon his heart, his mood irritated and face features grim more often than not. He is still without a dragon — and it’s the only thing he can think of, day and night, steadfast and stubborn in his obsession that most of his family finds to be blown out of proportion. It might have stang him less if only it wasn’t for the constant teasing and pitiful jokes that added to his distress and the never-ending heartache. He learns to keep a straight face and act as if he doesn’t really care, but deep down he does, way more than he’ll ever admit.
His training sessions are a way to channel his anger, and he lashes out at a straw man, again and again, clinging to the thought that, at least in these moments, he is not entirely powerless. He keeps his focus on the target, attentive to Ser Criston’s advice — “Soften your knees”, “Keep your feet light, your hands heavy”, and for a couple of hours he forgets about his misery.
It’s when the training comes to an end, the dreaded realization sinks in again, and Aemond is lost in his thoughts, mindlessly twirling the wooden sword in one hand, his gaze wandering around the yard.
And then his eyes fall on a bright green spot — and all of a sudden, he sees you. A girl of his age, the hem of your green dress a bit dusty, boots covered in dirt, a few strands of hair fallen loose, a coy smile on your face. You meet his gaze and wave at him excitedly.
Aemond looks dumbfounded. A girl in the training yard. Waving at him. He blinks once, twice — and in the next moment, you’re standing merely a few steps away, glancing curiously at his sword.
“It looks so hefty! Is it heavy? What is it made of?” a string of questions, your voice sweet and joyful.
There’s a brief pause and maybe you mistake his stiffness for arrogance as you are quick to add:
“Oh, my manners!” gasping but showing no actual regret. “Forgive me,” you curtsy, your smile growing even wider. A timid smile appears on his face in return and he finally comes to his senses.
“It’s made out of red oak. It’s not very heavy, you get used to it,” Aemond raises the sword, letting you take a closer look. Within another blink of an eye he finds himself talking to you, your questions endless and maybe a bit naive but he genuinely enjoys it.
That’s until you both hear a loud cry.
“Lady Y/N!” your nanny comes running in, out of breath and scowling. “I told you not to wander around...,” she chokes on her words at the sight of the young prince. She curtsies, too, but it isn’t nearly as cute as when you do it.
She sprints decisively in your direction. “It wasn’t very polite of you to interrupt the prince’s training, you little menace!”
And then Aemond, to his own surprise, moves to stand in her way.
“She didn’t interrupt a thing,” he disagrees, lips thinned into a tight line.
The nanny stops and looks at Aemond dubiously, switching her gaze from him to you.
Ser Criston is the one to resolve the conflict — he comes from behind, with a polite smile plastered on his face.
“Young lady can watch from the balcony. The guests are very much welcomed,” he calls for the maid to escort you and your nanny up there. While you’re away, he looks at Aemond with a grin:
“Already wooing the ladies, my prince? Let’s hope you are as good with your sword as she thinks you are.”
He does make Aemond work for it but the prince fights back, winning one bout after the other. He keeps glancing at you and you wave at him every single time.
Aemond is too young to know what love is, too shy and guarded to even entertain the thought of it. But when you look at him, with your childish grin and your eyes bright with mirth, he doesn’t feel lonely anymore.
2.
It’s been two weeks since Aemond lost his eye and he hasn’t left the bed. The pain is still blinding, burning and constantly making his only eye water. But what hurts even more is the humiliating disability. The triumph of claiming Vhagar died down, and now the prince was faced with the harsh reality he needed to adjust to and the process wasn’t an easy one. The fever has only recently gone down, leaving his body weak and freezing from the lack of movement, but he couldn’t bear the thought of stepping out of the room.
His mother wouldn’t leave his side and even Aegon often came to visit, clearly blaming himself for not being there for his little brother. Yet their presence barely brought Aemond any comfort and most of the time he would pretend to be asleep to avoid any conversations. He knew they only meant well and he was being cruel but he couldn’t help it as his pride was shattered and he gave in to sadness.
That is until one night he wakes up to a weird sound. He’s only half-awake when he hears a vigorous tapping that clearly comes from the outside. Except it's not from the other side of the door — but rather outside his window.
He’s startled by this guess and suspiciously walks closer. It takes him a few seconds to focus his gaze and discern a human’s silhouette — and then another few to realize that it’s you standing on the window sill. He feels like his heart will jump out of his chest as he rushes to open the window.
You climb through and clumsily drop to the floor. But before he can get worried, you are on your feet again, eyeing him with concern.
“Oh, Aemond,” your gaze and voice are both so soft, it makes his lower lip quiver. You carefully approach him and put your hand on his shoulder, gently sliding it on his back in a soothing motion and then cuddling him. He welcomes your company with a sigh of relief. You smell of oranges and you give the best hugs.
“They told me no one was allowed into your chambers,“ your hushed whisper burns his ear. “The silliest thing I’ve ever heard!” you pull away from him, still lightly panting, cheeks flushed and hair messy. “I knew I had to find a way to come see you.”
You examine his face, frowning at the scar that’s still healing.
“Does it hurt?”
He only nods, afraid that if he opens his mouth, he won’t be able to hold back a sob. You move closer, resuming the gentle motion of rubbing his back.
Ever since that day in the training yard, you kept in touch, regularly sending each other letters, chatting about everything and nothing, sharing your little secrets and observations. You recently mentioned that your parents allowed you to come see him again, but with the tragic change of events, Aemond completely forgot about the preplanned visit.
“I will take his eye,” you say out of the blue, caressing the unharmed side of his face, your voice laced with anger. Aemond thinks he might’ve heard it wrong.
“...Whose eye?”
“Luke’s! I shall take his eye, as payment for yours,” you tell him with zero hesitation. For a girl of your age, you’re way too eager to plan such a thing, yet he somehow has no doubts that you can actually do it.
Aemond shakes his head.
“You shouldn’t,” his voice quiet but firm. “The King was very adamant about that, no payment is needed.”
“Well, maybe he is too old to think straight,” you retort. “You are his son and you lost an eye! Justice must prevail,” you tilt your head at him, clearly thinking that you’re in the right.
And he knows that you are but he also knows no justice will be served. It’s the last straw for Aemond — he looks away in shame as tears, hot and angry, start falling down his cheek. You waste no time hugging him again, letting him cry on your shoulder, and the two of you stay like that for what feels like an hour.
And then, in the comfortable silence of your embrace, he hears you asking, very seriously:
“Are you sure I can’t take his eye?”
At that moment, he can’t stop himself from letting out a laugh — a weak one and barely audible, but still, he laughs, for the first time in two weeks, and you are the sole reason for it.
Your cheek is pressed to his, your fingers running through his hair, and Aemond realizes he can’t lose you.
He begrudgingly persuades you that taking Luke’s eye isn’t worth the trouble.
3.
By the age of fifteen Aemond becomes quite accustomed to the eyepatch and it gives him a boost of confidence. Losing an eye only made him train harder and his persistence pays off when he’s the one to win, time after time, no matter who his opponent is. His hair grows longer, now silky smooth and with no sign of his boyish curled ends, his face features sharpen. He learns to walk with his head high and hands clasped behind his back, mastering the intimidating look that makes most people want to stay away from the one-eyed prince.
His tricks could’ve never worked on you, though.
You come to visit him a few times a year, and he eagerly awaits your arrival. All the days in between, you keep talking through letters, them getting longer as you get closer. He keeps those letters locked in a hidden compartment of his table. And sometimes, for no specific reason — or maybe for the reason he can’t yet formulate — he is drawn to reach for them, which always ends with him rereading the letters for hours. Some of them he knows by heart and yet it never stops him from having the pleasure of seeing your handwritten stories and little jokes that were only meant for him.
Today is no exception and Aemond is so enthralled by reading, he almost misses the knock on the door. The sound brings him to reality but he is in no hurry to react. The knocking comes again, and the prince groans, annoyed at the maid’s persistence. He carefully puts the letters back and goes to the door, armed with his cold gaze.
And then he opens it — and it’s you standing in front of him.
Aemond barely has time to register what’s going on when you launch yourself at him, your arms immediately enveloping him in a tight hug, your laugh ringing in the air. He hugs you back and, while you can’t see it, he’s grinning from ear to ear.
“I swear you’re getting taller every time we meet!” you look up at him, beaming, and he lets you in. “I soon will need a ladder just to hug you properly.”
“I’ll be sure to let my body know of your disapproval,” he sneers and you stick out your tongue.
“While you are at it, shall you also work on your friendly face? I overheard the maids being frightened to go into your chambers,” you try giving him a scolding look but end up giggling at his reddened cheeks.
“I am friendly enough!”
“Yes, nobody glowers quite like you,” you snicker and flop right on the floor, the move always making him smile. Aemond tried persuading you to sit on any other surface that’s actually meant for sitting but you insisted that his fluffy rug works just as well, so he eventually gave up, deciding to join you. He never complained since.
Before he knows it, he’s immersed in the conversation while you enthusiastically share the recent news and everything that’s happened to you on the road. Only about half an hour in, he notes a small bag you’re clasping in your hands.
“You come bearing gifts?”
“Oh, I almost forgot I had it,” you laugh, abashed. “I decided I should bring you something to replace this crumpled-looking thing”.
It takes Aemond a minute to realize that you’re talking about his eyepatch. But he has no time to protest as you silence him with a gesture of your hand.
“I took it upon myself to count for how long you’ve been wearing this one already,” your tone gets serious. “I must say, that number is disturbing.”
There’s a moment of silence and then he clears his throat, his voice unsure. “Very kind of you to think of that, I shall replace it later on.”
He reaches his hand to take the bag but you quickly cover it with yours, fingers brushing over his, and he freezes.
“Are you still not convinced that I can take a look at it?” you try to make eye contact but he averts your gaze.
“Aemond, I was with you and I think I’ve seen enough back then — none of it scared me.”
“It is not a sight for the faint of heart,” the prince mumbles, his bravado faltering.
“Well, I don’t remember fainting the first time. You should have more faith in me,” you try to reason, holding his hand.
Aemond ponders for another minute — or maybe ten, he isn’t sure, and you patiently wait, not wanting to press him any further. Then he finally makes a decision and, after taking a long, sad sigh, he removes the eyepatch and looks at you, the sight of him is the very definition of insecurity.
You stay silent for about five seconds before concluding:
“Oh, it healed so nicely!” with no hint of uncertainty in your voice. Your smile reassures him a little as you peer at the sapphire, looking very pleased.
“The gem compliments your eye very well,” you give him your verdict, taking the new eyepatch out.
“We might have a different understanding of what a compliment is.”
“This is me trying to say that I really like the way it looks,” you chide him lightly. “And I consider myself to be quite understanding, thank you very much. Will you stop pouting and let me put it on?”
At this point he surrenders, giving you permission, and you move closer, giggling with excitement. You gently fix his hair, making sure it’s all combed back, and then lean to put the eyepatch on. You have a habit of biting your lower lip when you’re too concentrated on something, and Aemond can’t help but gaze at that part of your face while your teeth graze over the pillowy surface.
He’s never let anyone this close — and not just in the sense of physical proximity. The moment is very intimate, and the softness of your movements tugs at his heart. He is suddenly very aware of the very short distance separating you two, and he holds his breath. You are oblivious to his stare and soon lean back, satisfied with the result and glancing at him with something akin to fondness.
He wishes he could paint a picture of you right at this moment, so tender and caring and sitting by his side.
He also wishes he could kiss you — and that thought scares him to death. And yet, once it appears, it never goes away.
4.
Aemond is seventeen and his life has been pure torture since you stopped visiting him. He hasn’t seen you in over half a year (seven months and eleven days, not that anyone is counting). It’s not your fault as your father has unexpectedly fallen ill and you couldn’t leave his side. The prince exhausted the maester with questions, asking for advice to write back to you, worried sick that your separation would be stretched for way longer than he could handle.
Luckily, the Gods took pity on him, and he was glad to learn that your father got better, and you will come to King’s Landing soon. Your visit coincided with Aegon’s birthday, but Aemond didn’t care about the feast, his mind only occupied with the thought of seeing you. He was both nervous and excited to the point of not even hiding it, which led to Aegon teasing him relentlessly. Helaena, on the other hand, wholeheartedly supported Aemond’s feelings for you.
“She will be delighted to see you, too, I am sure of it,” his sister tells him the day before the event.
“But the reason for it might be of a different nature,” Aemond remarks, and Helaena gives him a compassionate look.
“You will never know her true feelings unless you ask,” she encourages. “The two of you are so close, I consider her part of the family.”
Aemond knows that he’s of age and his mother hinted that, despite him showing no interest in courting, some ladies still found him attractive. He dismisses the idea but then finds himself thinking of it from time to time. When the realization forms in his head, it’s nerve-wracking but oh so compelling — he thinks he would’ve really wanted to marry you. He just doesn’t know how to tell you about it.
The day of your arrival comes, and Aemond wakes up at dawn in anticipation, determined to confess his feelings. He tries to come up with a speech, but it feels wrong and sounds weird, and he decides it will be better to improvise. He all but runs to the courtyard to be the first one to greet you. However, when you step out of the carriage, smoothing your dress, and your eyes meet, Aemond stops dead in his tracks and the world around him stands still.
His confidence might’ve blossomed — but not nearly as much as your beauty did. Somehow in those recent months, you’ve matured into a woman that takes his breath away.
It’s not a drastic change, it’s all in the details: the contours of your face are more defined, the cheekbones prominent, your hair knotted up high in a perfect style and even your pace is much slower and gracious. You walk towards one another, both suddenly cautious. But when you are a couple of meters apart, a well-known smile appears on your face and you hold your arms out to him and he finally hugs you again, after all this time. Aemond relaxes, inhaling the familiar scent of fruits that you undoubtedly munched on your way here.
“You look exactly as I remembered you,” you say as you slip from his embrace.
“And you are a sight to behold,” he breathes out, taking you in, and your cheeks heat up at the compliment. You’ve never been shy with him before, so this is also new. He wonders what might’ve caused this change.
As the two of you walk around the castle, it feels a bit awkward at first, and you keep glancing at him with emotion he can’t read. But Aemond is too happy to see you to give it much thought, and within an hour you ease into the conversation, too. By the time the evening comes, the tension disappears, and you are laughing at his sarcastic remarks again, and he savors every second of it.
The feast in honor of Aegon is lush and crowded, but you stay by Aemond’s side, enjoying each other’s company, and he only has eye for you. When the music gets too loud, you sneak out and soon find yourselves in his chambers, just like in the good old days.
Aemond is in the middle of telling you about Aegon’s recent foray to the Flea Bottom, when you say. “It’s just the two of us,” your fingers sink into the fluffy rug. “You don’t have to wear it with me. You know it, right?”
He wears the eyepatch with everyone, only taking it off before going to sleep. Moreover, he actually cherishes it because it’s a gift from you.
Aemond hesitates. “I thought you quite liked it.”
“I only gave it to you because yours started to look like it was pulled off a dead man’s body!” you laugh.
Before he can think of an answer, you lean closer — your shoulder brushing his, your hand touching his face, the same gentle warmth he remembers so well, — and remove the eyepatch yourself. The sight doesn’t bother you in the slightest as you confess:
“I accept you the way you are, Aemond,” and then, a moment away from him opening his mouth and saying the thing that’s been on the tip of his tongue for the duration of the day, you add, “That’s what friends are for — and you are my best friend.”
And just like that, with this word alone, his plan goes out the window.
A friend. Aemond can’t even be upset at the reveal, because, honestly, being your friend feels like a blessing in itself and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. How could he be so selfish and foolish to even think about risking it all, risk losing you?
So he keeps his feelings to himself, locking them away deep in his heart, and doesn't argue with you.
Maybe he should have.
5.
By the age of nineteen Aemond reaches the conclusion that he wants to take the risk. Otherwise, he thinks he might actually die as his heart can not hold all his feelings anymore. In two years' time, there isn’t a single thing about you that he hasn’t come to love, and keeping it a secret becomes harder with each day.
Aemond is ridden with doubts to the point where he can’t hide it any longer and he decides to seek advice — and the prince can’t think of a better person to talk to than his mother. Unbeknownst to him, Alicent was the first one to notice. Years ago, when you were kids, she quickly sensed the effect you had on her son, and it brought her joy as she watched the two of you get closer with time.
So when Aemond bursts into her room, anxiety radiating off of him as he starts jabbering away, his pacing erratic and voice trembling, it takes her about a minute to realize what's going on.
“My dear, I think you must talk to her,” she approaches him, an understanding look on her face.
Aemond cuts his speech short, eyeing her with wonder:
“You don’t seem surprised.”
“Your affection for her is as bright as a fire blazing,” Alicent chuckles. “I believe she is the only one who doesn’t see it.”
“Should I tell her...?” he doesn’t dare say it out loud, not yet.
Alicent briefly takes his hands in hers, squeezing them. “You should tell her the truth.”
Her encouragement gives him a dash of hope, lifting a weight off his chest. Aemond knows in an instant that the letter won’t cut it, and you must have the conversation face-to-face. Fortunately, your next visit is in a month, so his suffering won’t last for much longer.
Aemond almost reaches the door but then sharply turns to his mother again, his cheeks flushed:
“Will you give me your approval?” and this time, he looks straight at her as he wants to see her genuine reaction.
Alicent smiles, quick to reassure him. “Yes, Aemond. Your betrothal would only make me happy.”
The prince feels elated, almost euphoric, as he finally goes to meet you and runs the remaining distance from his chambers to the yard. But when he sees you, the smile disappears from his face because he notices that something is wrong.
You look visibly upset, your eyes watering and fingers fumbling with the dress, even though you try to force a smile in return. The hug you give him is weak and you keep looking at your feet.
“What is the matter?” he’s never seen you this sad, but you brush him off.
“It’s just a headache, no need to worry.”
Yet that’s exactly what he does, offering to call for the maester, or to prepare you a warm bath, or bring you some tea...
“A cup of water would be nice, thank you,” he leaves you in the hallway to go and get it himself, the task only takes a couple of minutes. When he returns, you stand with your back to him, your shoulders are shaking — and he hears quiet, muffled sobs. If it wasn’t for the nearby table, he would’ve thrown the cup away, his focus on you alone. As he rushes to envelop you in a hug, you don’t fight it, instead nestling your face against his chest, not hiding your tears anymore.
Aemond gives you some time before asking again.
“This doesn’t look like just a headache. What is the cause of your anguish?” now he’s the one running his fingers up and down your back.
You let out a sound that’s a mix between a groan and a whine.
“My father says I am to be betrothed soon. He says I am of age already and... and he wants me to meet some of my cousins,” you sniffle. “I told him I have no wish to get married but he refuses to listen,” you bite your lip, not wanting to cry again.
Surely, that’s not how Aemond wanted to ask you. But he decides to take his chance.
“Mayhaps there is another way out that could make you feel better.”
“Please don’t tell me Vhagar will burn them down,” you jest but the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. Aemond thinks your idea isn’t that bad — but he has to try his first.
“If he insists you should marry but doesn’t have a particular candidate, maybe you can pick one yourself?”
“I’ve met all my cousins — and half of them are imbeciles, the others are too old to survive a wedding,” you scoff.
“Then pick someone you are not related to,” Aemond suggests.
“Do you have a particular candidate in mind?” when you ask with a tinge of annoyance, you don’t think he will answer. And then you look at him — and see him grinning before he says:
“Me”.
You glare at Aemond with eyes wide and mouth agape, the expression frozen on your face for a good minute.
“Are you laughing at me?” you manage to say.
“I wouldn’t dare,” his nerves are as tight as a wound-up string.
In the blink of a moment, your face lights up. You are looking at him indecisively, searching for words, agitated. But Aemond mistakes your confusion for rejection.
“At the very least you will marry someone you know,” he tries to reason — but it backfires, wiping the joyfulness off your face.
Taken aback, you inquire. “You pity me?”
He doesn’t grasp the poor choice of his words yet.
“You pity me and that’s why you want to marry me?” you give him a look of disbelief, your eyes glossy, and he can’t get his head around what just happened.
“Oh, it was so silly of me to think that...,” you choke back a sob, putting your hand over your mouth.
Never in his life he thought he would be the reason for you looking so heartbroken. Aemond covers your hand with his palm — and you let him, as he tries to gather his courage.
“I only meant to say that I —”
And then you recoil, snapping your hand back.
“Aemond, don’t,” you take a step back from him, then another one. “You have said enough. Please, let me be,” you turn away and leave the hall in a hurry before he can utter another word.
... 1.
He finds you at your usual spot, under the blossoming cherry tree. You’ve always said you liked the color of it, little white flowers reminding you of early spring, your favorite time of the year. You don’t know that Aemond insisted on planting that tree specifically for you. Just so he can sit nearby and, as you were basking in the sunlight with your eyes closed, he would get a chance to look at you with all his unconditional love and have those moments engraved in his memory.
Come to think of it, he had so many memories of you — and every single one of them was bliss, and he can recall them so easily like it was yesterday.
And so he does.
“When we first met, you wore a green dress,” his voice startles you, but you don’t turn to face him, sniffling with your arms folded. “It was the color of forest trees. Black lace around the hem of it, the matching hair ribbon that you kept losing,” he keeps his distance, his hands shaking.
“Yes, I remember it pretty well,” you sigh, avoiding his gaze, baffled by his sudden outburst.
“The second time was when you climbed through my window, almost gave me a heart attack,” there’s a hint of a smile in his voice that you catch even without looking. “Blue dress, you tore a huge piece of it and couldn’t care less. You were the first person to make me laugh in two weeks even though it seemed impossible. But not with you.”
He sees your eyebrows furrowing, hands sliding down to rest on your knees.
“Helaena’s name day came next, your dress was bright pink. Luke tried to make fun of it and you threw a cup full of water in his face. To this day, it’s one of my fondest memories.”
You dare to look up at him, perplexed, your eyes wet from crying.
“Three months after was the light-blue dress, then the peach one and the brown one. Then the white one which didn’t survive the horse riding lesson, and Helaena gave you one of hers. Light green, too long for your liking, even though you pretended otherwise to please her,” the corners of your lips tremble, your face softening.
“Then for a year you only wore violet, much to your nanny’s dismay as she thought it made you look ill. And I thought you were the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, no matter what dress you were in,” he can’t take his eye off you.
Your face expression melts into a stunned one.
“I didn’t realize it back then. Or maybe I didn’t know how to call it. I just knew that your visits only brought me happiness,” he takes a step toward you, uncertain, but you don’t move from your spot.
“When you were fourteen, you picked the autumn colors — orange, dark yellow, deep red. Your started braiding your hair, tried to braid mine,” you can’t hold back a smile. He was fussy when you first voiced the idea but he ended up loving the process so much, he would allow it just to feel your fingers flowing through his hair.
“I think you actually enjoyed it,” you mumble, and Aemond smiles, too.
“I did. I enjoyed every minute that I got to spend with you.”
You stand up then, feeling your pulse quickening.
“The day you brought me the eyepatch, you wore emerald green. I was terrified to show you the scar,” he pauses, catching his breath. “You assuaged my fears with your kindness. But then I was terrified to learn that I wanted to kiss you.”
You think you are dreaming. Is it possible that you fell asleep under the tree? You don’t want to get your hopes too high, but when he looks at you like this, your own fears start melting away.
“Then was the black dress, the grey one, another white one. The golden one you wore to meet Vhagar,” when he saw you that day, he almost forgot how to breathe. You showed no sigh of apprehension as you fearlessly approached the dragon. He was absolutely besotted.
“And then came the agony of not seeing you for over seven months,” he closes his eye for a second, overwhelmed. He almost misses it when you speak:
“Seven months and twenty-five days. Not that I was counting,” his eye snaps open, instantly on you again.
You gravitate toward each other without even noticing. Aemond’s heart skips a beat when you’re at arm’s length, your eyes shining and lips slightly parted. Even in the state you’re in, you look so beautiful, it’s mesmerizing, and the words are stuck in his throat. You are the one to break the silence.
“Aemond, please don't give me false hope,” your heartbeat is too loud, you don’t hear your own voice. He does.
“I do not wish to marry you out of pity,” Aemond takes the last step. “I want you to be my wife because I am in love with you,” he wipes away the remaining tears off your face, his fingers linger, making you shiver. “I’ve been in love with you for quite some time. For a few years, actually,” his voice gets low. “For what feels like an eternity,” Aemond murmurs.
“Why haven’t you told me?” you pout, nervously toying with the collar of his shirt.
“I was afraid you didn’t feel the same. I still am but maybe... Maybe I am wrong?” his gaze is fixed on you, one of his hands following the contour of your waist, your body warming at the touch.
“Tell me that I am wrong,” he whispers, begging.
You look at his lips, the soft curve of them that you’ve dreamt of for so long.
Aemond always thought yours were the most kissable he’s ever seen.
You don’t know who closes the distance first — but his mouth is suddenly on yours and the sensation leaves you disarmed. Kissing him is like being swept with a wave of tenderness, and you’re floating in it, his lips so fervid and supple — truly perfect — your head is spinning. The kiss is not awkward nor modest as you hastily cling to each other, his hands gripping your waist, your chest pressed into his.
Aemond feels like he’s drowning, and he wants more of you — all of you, and then your fingers tug at his locks, eliciting a groan from him, and it is simply a miracle that his heart doesn’t explode. You move in impeccable sync, in the passionate harmony that erupts from years worth of mutual pining. His lungs burn but he resists the urge to break the kiss and stretches it out the best he can until you are breathless, too.
“Never knew that you were so fascinated by my wardrobe choices,” you tease, and his hum turns into a chuckle.
“You know what my favorite memory is?” you ask, your forehead resting against his.
“When we were ten-and-three, and you were teaching me how to hold a sword. I tackled you to the ground and scraped my knee,” you both smile at your then enthusiasm. “And you set everything aside to spend the rest of the day with me even though it was hardly a wound. And I remember thinking,” you hook your finger under his chin, “that there’s nowhere else I would rather be than with you, with this favorite boy of mine.”
The air around you is tense, and you are enchanted by each other.
“Did that help to prove you wrong?”
“I may need some convincing,” his breath fans over your lips.
“You can take your time,” you laugh — and then the sound of it is muffled by his athirst mouth.
His favorite memory will be this.
And every other moment with you that’s to come.
author’s note: I’m sorry if this came out messy and rushed. I tried my best to write a shorter fic (this is short for me lmao) and idk how I feel about it. I much rather prefer them longer because I’m a sucker for stories about two people getting to know each other and falling in love BUT I get it that others don’t want to read long ass fics (which kinda breaks my heart but I'm being so very brave about it)
anyways, thank you for reading!
💙 the longer version of this fic might have looked like this (yes, this is a shameless plug! because I adore this one to pieces!! bite me)
🎵 the title is a quote from Elvis Presley’s song (duh). there are quite a few covers of it but one of my favorites is by Twenty One Pilots. there’s also a female version — by Ingrid Michaelson — and I think both of them fit the story really well.
💞 my masterlist
P.S. I’m also on AO3 (lol, who isn’t), in case you prefer to read fics there.
English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!
#aemond targaryen#got the idea out of the blue (oh the things I do instead of sleeping...)#wrote it in two days#pretty sure it's once in a year kind of miracle#my expectations are low though and I will probably never write anything like this again lmao#anyways I think I should get back to actually adding the tags and shut tf up#here’s a SPECIAL tag that I call 'the woman Aemond is in love with stands up for him'#I already used this trope twice and WILL use it again watch me#my stuff#aemond x reader#aemond x y/n#aemond x you#aemond targaryen x y/n#aemond one eye#aemond one eye x y/n#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen fanfics#aemond targaryen fics#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen fanfic#hotd fanfiction
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(x)
#archive of our own#ao3 quotes#ao3 stuff#archive of our own quotes#fanfic#fanfic quotes#funny#ao3#just accept your true calling as a theatre kid and go get your adhd diagnosis already#this is actually a really good fic#it explores gender in a cool and meaningful way#also#this is me with literally every one of my friends#how I ended up being the only non-theatre kid is a mystery#(actually I have crippling anxiety that decides to pop in every time I stand in front of a group so that might be it)#adhd#theatre#theatre kid
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You know, he likes her better without all that makeup on
#if anyone knows fanfic where haymitch is flabbergasted by seeing effie without makeup on for the first time please send them my way#I’m just a sucker for haymitch realizing he’s a fool and that was standing before a goddess this whole time#which is with and without makeup on anyway#but he’s just … you know… haymitch#anyway#these two are going to be the death of me#whoever keeps up with the strawberry blonde hair effie trope… i like you#y’all#i’m listening to wasteland!baby by hozier while drawing this#listen to it for a complete experience#fanart#hayffie#effie trinket#haymitch x effie#haymitch abernathy
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Astarion's butt.
That's it, that's the post.
#Think I mentioned before I was an ass woman#I keep getting jumpscared by Astarion dick picks on this sight but no butt appreciation#I will not stand for it!#asstarion#baldurs gate 3#astarion ancunin#astarion bg3#bg3#astarion x tav#astarion my beloved#astarion romance#astarion x reader#write me fanfic where Tav is an ass lover#PLEASE#shitpost#hornyposting
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Dark Secret [Chapter Three] Unfathomable [Ace Merrill]
A/n: In the book, it was Chris who pulled the gun on Ace, but I went with the movie lore for this.
Warning(s): nightmares, fear, dry heaving, OC, Alternate Universe, loss of control, kitchen sex, Ace being Ace, supernatural elements, eldritch horror, thoughts of violence, mentions of blood.
No Minors Allowed!!
There were few things in all his life Ace Merrill could say made him feel uneasy.
The day Gordie Lachance pulled a gun on him was one of them. He was certain that the little bozo would do it too; he grew a set of balls that day. A big mistake. Ace and a few of his friends caught him around town and broke his nose and two of his fingers.
Then, there was the incident with the deputy sheriff at the time, Alan Pangborn, who caught him cracking into the safe at the Mellow Tiger, the same incident that put him in Shawshank for 4 years. He was now the sheriff, much to Ace's dismay and while he did not get back at him like he did with Gordie and his friends, he did give Alan the bird anytime he caught his eye going through town.
Ace could count on his fingers the number of times he felt uneasy, but what happened last night wasn't unease; it was pure terror.
He didn't have control over his body. It felt like someone else was pulling the strings, yanking him around like a damn puppet. To make matters worse, it almost happened exactly like he dreamed. He almost killed his wife.
The other version of himself, the puppet, had and without remorse. The sensation was indescribable; it felt real. Ace could feel the weight of the hammer in his hand. He could hear the wet squelch and the crunch of Elise's skull as he smashed it open like a rotten pumpkin, an image that turned his stomach and made him retch.
An intense bout of nausea washed over him like a heat wave and his mouth filled with saliva. Ace flung himself from the side of the bed and sprinted to the bathroom across the hall. He hovered over the toilet bowl and violently dry heaved. There was nothing on his stomach, but he wished there had been. At least then he might feel a little better.
“Ace,” called a silvery voice.
An unexpected yet warm touch on his back between his shoulders made him tense up, but he soon relaxed and the bout of nausea ebbed away. Elise gently rubbed his back.
“Can I get you anything?”
Ace was too weak to make a quip at his own expense and merely shook his head no. He did not turn to look at her for fear of seeing her head caved in, so he squeezed his teary eyes shut. Her presence was enough. He felt anchored, but as much as he wanted her there, he knew he needed a moment alone.
“I need a shower.”
He felt Elise run her fingers through his unkempt hair, and then she hummed.
“I'll get you some clothes to change into.”
Ace didn't argue with her. He let her stand and walk out, leaving him alone on the floor.
As soon as the door closed, Elise let out an uneasy sigh. What was going on? She had never seen Ace this way, so out of control. It was terrifying.
Then last night. What was that?
Her eyes averted to the rusted hammer on the floor beside the bed in concern. It had not been picked up since he dropped it. Honestly, Elise did not want to touch the thing; there was something off-putting about it, like forcing two similar magnetic poles together. She felt like it was rejecting her.
In the meantime, she opted to ignore the hammer. The sound of the shower kicking on pushed her to act. Elise walked over to the dresser and retrieved a summer-appropriate outfit for Ace. If it were up to him, he'd wear whatever button-down smelled clean enough, even if it didn't pair well with the undershirt.
Taking them to the bathroom, she knocked first to alert Ace, then she went in and sat them on the edge of the sink. Through the floral curtain, she could see his silhouette beneath the shower head. He was merely letting the warm water cascade over him.
“Can I join you?” Elise asked.
As soon as the question came out, her face heated up. Even after being married to Ace for three years, and having an abundant sex life, she was still shy around him. It was hard not to be; he was on a whole other level than her.
Luckily, he did not seem to hear her over the shower. Elise backed out of the room, opting to start breakfast.
Unbeknownst to her, it was not the water that drowned her out; it was the sharp sound of whispering that tickled Ace's ears. He covered them, but the noise continued, more persistently than before. Then, something he remembered from the night of the incident made his blood run cold.
Come unto me.
Ace leaned forward and gently banged his head against the wall, over and over.
–
By the time Ace came downstairs, Elise was nearly done with breakfast. She was waiting for the toast to pop up when she heard the soft pattering of his footsteps and turned to look at him. Aside from a red mark on his forehead, he seemed fine, much better than before.
“How are you feeling?” Elise asked softly.
Ace sauntered to the fridge and retrieved a soda.
“Fine.”
Elise sighed. It was not what she had hoped to hear, but that was just how Ace was; blunt and reserved. Still, last night was strange. She had never known Ace to sleepwalk before. It couldn't have been linked to the seizure. So, why? Ace wasn't going to be much help in her figuring it out.
After he woke her up, Elise sat up with him until morning. Ace hardly spoke a word, and she didn't press him. Whatever happened in his dream, messed with him; that much was obvious. While she was curious and a bit unnerved to see her husband holding a hammer while he loomed over her like a horror movie slasher, she knew that if he did not want to tell her, then he wouldn't.
The sudden pop of the toaster took her by surprise, making her jolt in fear. She tossed it a glare and then moved the pieces onto a plate, taking them to the table.
“Even if you aren't hungry, you should still try to eat some toast or crackers.”
Ace crushed the can much to her irritation and sat it aside, then stepped behind Elise and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“I'm starving.”
Was he? Elise puckered a brow and glanced over her shoulder at him. At least he was feeling well enough to eat; his color was back. Perhaps the dream turned his stomach. She brushed his damp hair from his forehead.
“What happened?” She was referring to the mark on his head.
“Smacked it on the edge of the sink,” Ace lied.
Elise snorted.
“What a klutz.”
Ace frowned and clasped her face.
“Behave.”
She knew that she should not tempt him, not after he spent the night sick, but she just wanted to know that he was going to be okay.
“Make me.”
“Darling, you act prudish, but I think you like to poke the bear,” Ace breathed. His other hand sank between her thighs, sliding her nightie up in a clump. “It drives you crazy, doesn't it.”
Elise felt her face heat up. Perhaps she did.
“I'll never tell.”
She wouldn't, Ace knew, but it was fine. He liked her good-girl personality; it's what first attracted him to her. She was kind and selfless, faithful to him. If innocence was a drug, then he was addicted to it.
Ace felt himself harden. He leaned down and captured her lips in a rough kiss, listening to her hum in response. Elise was so easily susceptible to him. He wanted to devour her. The hand against her face tightened and the other slid beneath the band of her panties, easing them down her hips.
“We're in the kitchen,” Elise pointed out.
She wasn't against the idea; there were better places to have sex though.
“I'll make it quick,” Ace cajoled, licking the shell of her ear.
Elise hummed softly and he continued. Sinking his hand between her thighs, he entered her, thrusting his fingers against her walls. Once she was ready, moaning and wet, Ace slid out of her and unzipped his pants. He urged her down on the table, between the plates, then freed himself and slid into her again.
She rocked against him with each thrust, attempting to keep her moans of pleasure quiet. Ace relished her pleas; he relished hearing her overcome her sense of shyness as he slowly drew them out of her, but today he wasn't entirely into it. Not after last night. He finished, of course, on the back of her thighs, moments after her, but it was a muted pleasure that lasted only seconds and left him frustrated.
Ace raked a hand through his hair. What was wrong with him? Sliding out of Elise, he tucked himself away. By the time he was done, Elise had wiped the mess off her thighs with a paper towel and leaned against the table to look at him.
“Are you sure you're OK?”
“I need a ride to the Emporium,” Ace deflected.
Elise hummed. He didn't want to talk to her about it; he had his reasons, she hoped.
“Let me get dressed, then I'll take you there. Try to eat something.”
She left him in the kitchen and sauntered upstairs to change. When she was done, dressed in a blouse and jeans, she hurried to the front door to find her keys to the Chevelle missing.
“Ace?”
He was neither in the kitchen nor in the house. Elise turned up her eyes and slid on her Gallencamps, then wandered outside. It wasn't hot out yet, but the morning air was dry and humid. As she walked down the front porch steps, she noticed Ace sitting in her car with the windows down; a lit cigarette was resting between his lips. Elise scoffed.
“Not in my car,” she chided, walking up to the driver's window. “If you're gonna drive, then you're gonna put that out. I don't want the leather to smell like smoke.”
Ace snorted. “When did you get to be so damn nitpicky about your car?”
Elise reached into the window and plucked the cigarette from his lips.
“When I married you,” she retorted.
Tossing it onto the ground, she stomped it out with the toe of her shoe, then walked to the passenger side and crawled in. Ace spared her a humored look. He was a bad influence on her, but he had no regret. Absolutely none.
–
The blatant tick-tock of numerous cuckoo clocks permeated the stale air as Ace walked into the Emporium Galorium. He spotted his uncle at the front desk, a man in his prime with a head of gray hair and a receding hairline, inspecting a diamond with a loupe magnifier. His blue eyes lifted and upon seeing Ace, he curled his nose.
“I was wonderin’ when you were gonna drag your ass in here.”
Ace snorted. “Here I am.”
Pop put away the diamond and leaned back in his chair.
“Your car is outback. I left the keys in it. Next time I'm gonna charge ya.”
Of course, he would. Ace strutted to the front desk and leaned on it, prompting Pop to raise a curious brow.
“Where's my half?”
“Your half of what, John?” Pop asked.
Was he serious? Ace snorted and shook his head.
“The money I earned from the job I did for you.”
It was Pop’s turn to snort.
“You mean the job you didn't finish.”
Ace tightened his jaw. He should have listened to Elise; he knew his uncle would find some way to screw him out of the deal.
“Are you fucking–”
“All I'm sayin’ is, boy, you didn't come through for me. Henry Rawlins had to take the haul to Jerusalem's Lot himself,” Pop interjected. He scratched his chin. “All I can do for ya is give ya what you earned; 75.”
Ace tapped his foot in irritation. He was mad, but something in his head was pressing him to ring the old man’s throat.
“75…out of the 300 you promised me.”
“Take it or leave it, John,” Pop countered. “Would you prefer having nothing?”
Would you prefer I bust your head wide fucking open? Ace didn't know where this sudden need for violence was coming from, but it felt…good. He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. When he opened them again, the world around him seemed to fade to black.
Pop noticed the despondent look on his nephew’s face and raised a curious brow. It felt like he was staring right through him. He felt uneasy. Reaching beneath the desk, he pulled out a leatherette money bag that he kept close by and counted out the 75 he told Ace he would give him, then sat it on the counter. His nephew never moved an inch; he never even blinked.
“If you're about to seize up or somethin’, take it outside.”
A thin stream of black oozed from Ace's left nostril and fell onto the desktop with a plop.
“John.”
Pop hesitantly reached out to him, but just as his grubby fingers touched Ace's arm, all the clocks in the shop went off with a deafening cry. Each cuckoo was dissonant like a room of people all talking at the same time but not about the same thing. He covered his ears in pain.
As Ace came too, the noise ceased. He blinked, not sure what happened, then saw the frightened look on Pop’s face.
“Take your money and get out,” Ordered Pop.
Ace raised a brow.
“I ain't done–”
Tossing two Benjamins on the table, Pop pointed a finger toward the door.
“Now get out!”
Ace collected the money and then hurried out of the shop. Outside, he stood against the wall in confusion. What was that? He blacked out for a moment, he was sure. That didn't concern him as much as seeing the look of fear on Pop's face when he came to. That was new. He had never seen Reginald Merrill so afraid in all his life. It made him feel…ecstatic.
Ace chuckled. Rubbing his face, he ignored the stain of black on his skin and clutched the money in his hand.
Things are starting to look up.
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This is a ref for Leo I have for an upcoming fanfic, but this is probably generally how I'll draw post-movie ROTTMNT Leo half the time now.
Also Leo uses a cane because I use a cane because of injuries sustained— not too severe, but mobility aid is needed to make things easier after that
He still has his other blades, but this is to showcase the more headcanonny art. And yeah, on the combat cane, the height adjustments are replaced with buttons to (1) active the shocky-shocky! and (2) detach the top. I'll probably update it bc I think Donnie would go ham on upgrading it for Leo.
And out-of-context spoiler for the fic:
#buwan's art#my art#about rottmnt fanfic and headcanons#rottmnt leonardo#rottmnt leo#rottmnt leo headcanons#unpause rise of the tmnt#I was looking up ideas for the combat cane#and I ended up kinda yearning for a weaponized mobility aid#bc like#holy shit that'd be cool#but also like#I know I wouldn't trust myself with it bc I have the fight-or-flight reflexes of a Peacock#miyamoto usagi I guess?#it's an AU ver. like— he's a descendent like Yuichi#because I like Usagi Yojimbo and 2003 TMNT#so I must#it's simply how it is#also Leo can stand and run in short bursts without the cane- but it's harder without it (same w/ me)
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As a romantic, sentimental shit, I decided to add a little spin off to the Moving In series.
While I'm not a huge fan of Christmas, Christmas Eve always felt really special to me. Christmas Eve traditions in our family have changed a lot over the years but I'm really excited to start my own! I've been trying to imagine what my perfect Christmas Eve would be like next year and it'd be pretty damn close to this.
If you celebrate it, have a lovely Christmas tomorrow! If you don't, I hope you have a wonderful day!
There's no way to keep the cat off the twinkling fairy lights on the tree. You've tried every trick the internet could offer but nothing stops her; except her own sleepiness.
After a long afternoon fighting the lights (and losing), she's curled up in the armchair, peacefully sleeping.
The tree is safe.
For now.
"Your fluffy murderer is asleep." Bucky hums contentedly, pulling you impossibly closer to him on the sofa.
"Good." It's about time. Even the TV playing Olaf's Frozen Adventure doesn't seem to be disturbing her and she loves that movie.
You're surprised the heat hasn't knocked Bucky out yet. Between your body heat, the matching pyjamas you're both wearing and the glowing embers of the fire, you're surprised he's not asleep too.
"What's Santa bringing tomorrow?" Bucky teases, running his hand from your hip to your waist, slipping his hand under you top and letting it rest there.
"I don't know! Hopefully the stand mixer I asked for... Maybe some baking supplies... Some cat treats maybe." You smile at the thought and feel Bucky laughing against your back.
"That cat of yours has not made it onto the Nice List, sweetheart. No chance. Santa won't be visiting her." His lips are curled into a smile as they drift from your collar, up the back of your neck.
"She's been good the rest of the year. She's only been naughty since I put the tree up." You feel like you have to protest on her behalf, even though you know Santa will be bringing her plenty of cat treats.
"So there's hope for you too then if that's how Santa works. If he excuses short bursts of naughtiness, you might still make it." His hand trails its way back to your hip, slipping just under the waistband of your pyjama shorts.
"I've been good this year and you know it!" You tease, pressing your ass back against him.
"Oh see no, this is naughty." Bucky corrects you, kissing your neck with a little more pressure.
"I don't think so. You seem to like it so this is me being nice." You wiggle your ass against the front of his pyjamas, enjoying the evidence of his interest.
"Don't argue sweetheart, that'll put you firmly on the Naughty List." He knows you hate reasoning like that.
"Well, if you've been so good this year, what's Santa bringing you?"
There's a short pause but the kissing over your neck doesn't stop.
"I don't know... I don't need anything." He didn't ask you for anything for that same reason. "I have everything I need here."
"That's gross. Grow up." You know he can't see the way that made you smile so you're free to affectionately bully him for saying it.
"You're so right." He laughs, somehow shuffling even closer to you.
"I'm sure if I got down on my hands and knees in front of the tree and looked right in at the back, I could find a gift with your name on it." You go back to rubbing your ass against his crotch, tempting him to escalate.
"Sweetheart, that view alone would be enough of a gift." He's got a special way of making you feel like a temptation, without ever objectifying you. God, he's wonderful. "But I want to see that pretty face. I want to lay you down under your tree and unwrap my gift properly."
"Unwrapping your gift early will put you on the Naughty List!" You try to feign disgust at the very suggestion but really, that's all you want.
"Then I'll be the happiest man on the damn Naughty List this year." He laughs, scooping you up and laying you down on the plush carpet.
"You're more of a terror than the cat." You giggle before his lips are pressed to yours, kissing you with an intensity you really quite enjoy. His tongue slips past your lips, rubbing against your own and it's almost dizzying to start so intensely.
Your fingertips dig into his broad, muscular back and shoulders. It's easy to let need cloud your brain and he doesn't seem to mind as he sheds his pyjama top.
"We aren't matching anymore." You smile, reaching for the bottom of your own top, pulling it off in one swift motion.
"Excuse me. You're unwrapping my present for me." Bucky pretends to be horrified but your decision has its perks. He's now got full access to your breasts and it's like Christmas came early for him.
He wastes no time, sucking and kissing and licking your breasts. His tongue flicks over your stiff nipples, enjoying the way the sensation makes you squeal and writhe under his mouth.
"Bucky... Please." You whine after a while, desperate for him to move on.
"Someone's needy." Bucky smiles, raising an eyebrow before he reaches down to remove the bottom half of your pyjama set.
Fuck, he's not wrong. His fingertips trail against your sex, checking to see whether you're as aroused as you sound and he's almost surprised to find you are.
"God, you're so wet. I'm going to make this pretty little pussy gush for me." He slips a thick finger into you, followed by a second and he's thrilled to realise you'll be able to take him already. He can take the edge off for you now and then take his sweet time licking his own load out of your fluttering cunt once he's given you what you need.
"Please." You whimper, noticing he's offered you nothing awfully useful. He hasn't curled his fingers to stroke your walls, he hasn't moved at all actually.
"I wanted to take my time with you." Bucky begins, removing his fingers and taking off his pyjama bottoms. "But that's not what you want right now, is it?"
You shake your head, giving in to your own desperation freely, knowing he'd want you to be honest.
"That's okay, sweetheart. Let's take good care of you." The residual heat of the fire warms your bare skin as Bucky arranges your thighs, settling himself between your legs.
"Good girl." Bucky hums, dragging his thick, bare cock through the evidence of your arousal, coating himself in the slick mess between your legs. "So pretty for me."
He watches the way your body accommodates him so willingly and your whines remind him not to keep you waiting.
His thick, leaking tip presses to your entrance and the feeling of him sliding into you is breathtaking. It always is.
Both of you stop breathing for a few short seconds until he's slid the whole way home, buried as deep inside you as your bodies will allow.
"Hey, look at me." Bucky whispers, holding the side of your face gently with one hand, making you realise you'd closed your eyes.
"You're so beautiful, you know that?" He begins to pull back slowly before pressing back in, setting a slow rhythm.
If feels wrong not to tell him the same. It's wrong not to tell him how wonderful you think he is. It's not fair to let the moment pass without mentioning that you love getting to do this with him and be vulnerable but still feel safe. You love having him in your space and spending time together and getting to enjoy these tender, intimate moments at the most random of times. But those aren't thoughts for now. Those are thoughts for when you're both fully satisfied and cuddling together, breathless and tired and entirely aglow on this same carpet later this evening.
That feels right.
"You are the most incredible man I've ever met." You reply instead, tugging gently on his soft, dark hair to pull him into a kiss.
You hear him groan against your lips, offering the same intensity as before. He speeds up his thrusts to match his mouth, sliding in and out of you with purpose and a delightful need to spill his release into you as he's coaxing yours from you.
"Play with yourself." His instruction is clear and driven by his own need. He needs to feel you cum before he can allow himself to do the same and his orgasm really seems to have snuck up on him.
Your hand slips between your bodies with a practiced ease, finding the little bundle of nerves between your legs, rubbing it in tight circles.
"Good girl. Fuck, I wish you knew how you feel. So wet and soft and warm." He hasn't taken his eyes off your face and that only lets you see how pleasure is evident all over his. He's almost overwhelmed and it's so lovely to watch.
"Fuck, I'm so close." You whine, begging him not to change a single thing. Not his pace, not his angle, nothing. This is perfect.
"Cum for me, sweetheart. Go ahead, I'm right behind you. I've got you."
The release is all consuming for a good few seconds, your body fluttering and twitching, milking Bucky's from him and he so willingly gives it to you. He groans gentle praises as he works both of you through your highs, taking every ounce of pleasure he can get from you while giving you as much as possible.
When your peak and his have both subsided, he slips out of you, giving himself a second to catch his breath.
"If you weren't on the Naughty List before, you definitely are now." You giggle, kissing his forehead repeatedly.
"I'm just getting started." He smiles, kissing your lips before moving down your body to kiss between your thighs.
#Bucky Barnes x reader smut#Bucky Barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes#becca writes spice#Olaf's Frozen Adventure is a top tier Christmas movie and I will hear NO SLANDER#We weren't allowed to watch Christmas movies growing up#so I might watch the Grinch for the first time tonight#I sat for hours last night and did a lovely set of Christmas nails#with little handpainted intricate snowflakes#and I'll have to take the nails off on Wednesday morning to go work in the coffee shop :(#I did ask Santa for a stand mixer so cross your fingers for me
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she's everything. he's just a footsoldier.
ocs from left to right: aubri and [LOUD CUCCO SQUAWK]
#loz#totk#loz oc#loz fanart#gerudo#yiga#tears of the kingdom#legend of zelda#totk oc#zelda oc#totk fanart#tloz totk#legend of zelda oc#loz gerudo#totk gerudo#loz fanfic#desert bandits#aubri#as it stands in the fic they're still trying to ice each other but that won't stop me from drawing them like this#(it's a redraw of a post i can't find. pretty sure it was a jojo cover)#didn't mean to make aubri look like patrick bateman legs scene in the 2nd slide my bad
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A Shield Against the Snow
yet another only one bed scenario, because I’m obsessed with them
Boromir/Reader (gender neutral)
Word count: 1,472
Rating: T
Here’s my next installment of How to Cope with a Middle Earth Bed Shortage, this time with our beloved Boromir! (previous chapters include Eomer/Reader and Legolas/Reader).
Read on AO3!
“We’ll have to share.”
Boromir turned to look at you incredulously as you held your bedroll out to him, and for a moment you feared that your suppressed longing had revealed itself in your shaking voice. But your whole body was shaking with cold as it was, and it seemed you were safe.
“It’s our only option,” you added weakly.
Boromir had lost half his supplies in the snow hours earlier, nearly tumbling into a ravine in the treacherous climb up Caradhras. The two of you had gone scouting ahead for a safer path, but were now facing a night in a snowstorm alone, lost, freezing, and with a single bedroll between you.
“Nonsense.” He turned away, looking irritated. “Go to sleep, and I will keep watch.”
“Keep watch for what?” You gestured to the forest of boulders and ice, ominous in the dying evening light. Too inhospitable even for a campfire. “There’s nothing out here but snow.”
Boromir pulled his cloak tighter around himself and didn’t answer.
“If you’re not going to sleep, we might as well keep walking,” you went on, raising your voice over the biting wind. “We might be able to catch up with the Fellowship by dawn.”
“So late, and in this blizzard? The sun is setting, and soon we will be utterly blind!”
You jabbed a gloved finger at him in triumph. “Then how do you expect to keep watch?”
“I—” But you had bested him, and he scowled. “Just go to sleep.”
“You’re being ridiculous!”
“The Men of Gondor can outlast a little snow.”
“Boromir, you’ll freeze—”
“I cannot share your bed!” He was breathing hard. “I cannot. I beg you, do not ask me again.”
You had expected a show of protest—Boromir always was a stickler for propriety—but the vehemence of his refusal stung. All these weeks the Fellowship had traveled together, he had never spoken so coldly to you. Always he had been kind, warm, talkative, seeking to walk by your side or offer you extra food at mealtimes. There had even been moments when his hand had rested on your shoulder, his eyes fairly glowing with what you had thought—what you had hoped was…
“I thought you were more practical than this.” Bitterness sharpened your voice to a swordpoint. “Would you truly rather freeze than lie beside me for a night? Just to stay warm?”
“Yes.”
He may as well have slapped you. Valar, he hadn’t even hesitated. But the shock of pain subsided quickly, fury taking its place. “Yes?” You stormed toward him, the bedroll shaking in your gloved fists. But the snow had frozen slick on the rocks at your feet, and Boromir’s hand darted out to steady you as you slipped.
Your eyes locked. He was all tension, jaw clenched, fingers tightening on your arm. Something desperate warred behind his eyes.
“Yes?” The word ghosted from your lips in a puff of white, a furious challenge.
“Yes.” His grip tightened, tightened, nearly painful. “For your warmth would burn me.”
“What?”
His breath billowed out in uneven clouds before him, anguish roughening his voice. “To lie beside you, to feel you pressed against me all through the night, to feign indifference all the while—” He released you and stepped away, shaking his head. “It would destroy me utterly.”
You stopped feeling the cold at once.
Boromir must have seen the shock in your eyes and stepped back again. “Forgive me. I had hardly wished to burden you with my desires, least of all now, here.”
“Desires? But how—how long have you…”
He lowered his eyes. “You will think me a barbarian, for I have wished to share your bed since first we met. Though I admit, I had imagined rather different circumstances than this. I am sorry to bring you discomfort,” he added, misreading your stunned silence. “Sorrier still to threaten our friendship. But you understand now why you must sleep alone.”
The bitter wind whipped at Boromir’s hair. Squaring his shoulders against the cold, he turned away into the darkness to begin his watch.
“Wait.” You shook your head breathlessly, finding your voice at last. “No. Share with me. Please.”
You set down your bedroll in the shelter of a little rocky outcropping, in as much shelter as could be found from the wind, and turned back to him.
But the desire in your voice had been lost in the freezing wind. “I cannot…” His mouth moved, but no sound came out. Misery twisted his features, and he stepped back once more.
You came to him instead, reaching out a gloved hand to sweep the snow from his broad shoulders, your fingers lingering on his collar in a gesture he couldn’t possibly misunderstand. “It’s so cold, Boromir,” you whispered. “Let me keep you warm.”
A shudder ran the length of his body, and he pulled you into his arms so urgently that he stumbled in the snow, gathering you to his chest with a breathless laugh. “Yes,” was all he managed to say. “Yes, love.”
And you kissed him.
Boromir’s lips were cold and chapped, but so were yours, and it was a sweeter kiss by far than any you'd conjured up during your long journey together. You melted into his embrace, heedless of the wind biting at your skin, and you clung to each other tighter even than the snow clung to your hair and cloaks.
Already you were warmer than you’d been in weeks. That wasn’t saying much, of course, considering how long the Fellowship had been hiking in the snow. And while Boromir’s mouth was invitingly warm, you felt no heat from his gloved hands, nor the snow-encrusted cloaks and furs between your bodies.
You shivered in his arms. Without speaking, you both trudged, still clinging to one another, to your bedroll, climbing hurriedly inside and draping your snow-encrusted coats and cloaks over the covers for extra warmth. It was more cramped than you’d anticipated, but you found you didn’t mind. The length of Boromir’s body was pressed tight to yours, and you grinned, nuzzling even closer to him.
Boromir wrapped his arms around you, drawing the covers as far over your heads as you could to shelter you from the wind. And without wasting a moment he slanted his lips over yours again, his fingers carding through your hair. He still wore his bulky gloves, making the gesture more uncomfortable than romantic. You laughed fondly and drew away.
“Let me.” You untangled your hair from his glove and took his hands in yours. Inch by inch you slipped the worn leather from his fingers, first one hand and then the other. His eyes were locked on your movements, his breath hushed.
You removed your own gloves next, and the warmth of his bare skin against yours was more welcome than a roaring fire. You gathered his fingers in your smaller ones, heating them against your lips with a long breath. Gently, you massaged his heavy palms, his calloused fingers, his broad fingertips.
“Had I known what sharing a bed with you would be like,” Boromir whispered, eyes slipping shut contentedly, “I would have mislaid my bedroll days ago.”
You laughed, withdrawing one hand slowly to trace the side of his face with your fingertips—the unkempt beard, the weathered skin, the little lines at the sides of his mouth where his smile widened. You had never touched his face before, and you wondered how you’d managed to go so long without doing so.
Boromir mirrored your gesture, cupping your face in his hand. With his other he propped himself above you—protecting you from the worst of the elements even now—and kissed you as though he’d been thinking of nothing else all those weeks you’d traveled together.
He drew away only to press a kiss below your ear, his lips parting hot against your racing pulse. You gasped, arching into him—and the covers above you shifted, sending a flurry of snowflakes cascading into your faces.
The next minutes were spent spluttering, coughing, shivering, knocking knees and elbows as you hurried to readjust the blankets above your heads.
Peace fell again at last, and your breathing calmed.
The wind was quieter now, as though it regretted its former cruelty, and the sun was nearly gone—Boromir’s face was little more than a warm silhouette under the blankets.
“Is this better?” you whispered, the last of the snow finally brushed away.
Boromir swept a strand of your now-mussed hair from your forehead. “No. I wish I could feel more of you tonight.” His voice was soft, the words ghosting warm over your lips.
“So do I.” Your fingers played at the hem of his tunic. “Perhaps, if we were very careful…”
For a moment he looked tempted, but you both knew it was a foolish idea, and he drew your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “There will be time for that later, my love. I would hardly have you freeze to death now.”
“No, nor I you.”
He laughed softly. “You return my affection, dearest—how could anything harm me now?”
#boromir#boromir x reader#lotr fanfic#tolkien fanfic#only one bed#is this just a bunch of cliches glued together with commas and em-dashes?#yes it is but i stand by it#god i hope these only one bed scenarios aren't getting old#i mean that won't stop me but still
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TIMBER FICLET
Bernard washes Tim’s hair for him.
(A little angst/fluff and hurt/comfort, mostly just these two being in love and domestic)
—————————————————
“Ow.”
The complaint is quiet. There’s no real fire behind Tim’s voice, more a sound made for the sake of breaking the silence than anything else. He doesn’t even wince as gentle fingers poke at the cut on his temple. He’s sitting in a dining chair, moved in front of the kitchen sink so Bernard can stand in front of him and clean up his cuts. Out of the two of them, it’s Bernard who hisses at the touch, looking a little queasy.
He still has it in him to steel Tim with an unimpressed look. “That didn’t hurt, so don’t pretend it did.”
Tim huffs out a laugh as the hand tilting his chin up moves to squeeze his cheeks. “Why do you look like you’re gonna be sick, then?” He asks, words muffled by his squished lips, and Bernard shakes his head. He releases Tim’s face in favor of picking up the damp rag and dabbing again at the cut. It stings, but not bad. Bernard has already gotten all the grit out, and his dabbing seems to just be a distracted motion at this point.
He chews his bottom lip. “Because it looks worse than it is. I don’t like seeing you hurt at all, but I really don’t like knowing they got close enough to do this,” he sighs. Tim slumps in his seat. He reaches out and takes Bernard’s free hand in a silent apology. Their fingers fit together easily, a familiar comfort to both of them. Bernard drops the rag on the counter and pauses to look Tim over again. Distractedly, he reaches up to play with a strand of Tim’s bangs.
He smiles. “You keep your hair so neat now. I remember when there was a bottle of gel in it every day.” He fingers a strand of black hair, soft and freshly trimmed. Nothing like when they met. Tim cringes at the memory. Yeah, he’d had a big thing for spiking his hair back then. Nowadays he prefers to keep it short and out of the way, even if Stephanie had lamented the loss of the longer hair he’d settled into for a while.
Tim leans into the touch. “And yet I still get all kinds of gross stuff in it every patrol,” he teases. Bernard’s fingers still. His eyes light up the way they always do when he comes to a realization that he likes.
He leans forward, further into Tim’s space, and beams at him brighter than the sun. “Can I wash it for you?”
“I—” Tim leans back and blinks rapidly. His nose scrunches as the question processes. “You want to wash my hair?” He asks. It’s an odd request. Nobody has washed Tim’s hair for him since he was a very small child. Even through his worst injuries where he needed help getting to the shower, Tim has managed to avoid it because hair just wasn’t a priority. He reaches up to feel his own hair, fingers brushing Bernard’s as he rakes them through his bangs. Hm. Not so overwhelmingly gross that Bernard would make washing it a personal mission.
Tim’s head falls to the side in a bewildered tilt. “Why?”
Bernard shrugs. “I like taking care of you.” He speaks simply. “I think it would make both of us feel better.”
It’s not something Tim would have imagined allowing someone to do. But when Bernard asks, he can’t find any reason to say no.
Tim doesn’t even leave the kitchen. They’d never both fit in his tiny shower. Within a couple minutes of Bernard grabbing their supplies, Tim finds himself leaning his head backwards over the sink’s edge, the back of his neck cushioned by the towel draped around him. He hears the water running for a bit to heat up, and he watches Bernard’s face as the blonde tests the temperature.
He chews the inside of his cheek when he concentrates. Always has. Cute, Tim thinks.
The detachable sink head is pulled down. “Ready?” Bernard asks gently, and when Tim lifts his eyes to Bernard’s own, he’s struck dumb by the sheer amount of adoration softening his expression.
Bernard…really cares about him. Enough to dote on him, to cook for him, to wash his hair for him, and what has Tim done to deserve that? He’s so troubled by this thought that he doesn’t answer immediately. It takes Bernard tapping his forehead with a finger to chase those thoughts away.
His expression is…difficult to put a name to. “Still with me, love?” He whispers. Tim nods. He clears his throat.
“I’m here. Sorry.” He shakes his head a little. “Ready when you are.”
Bernard smiles. “I’d give anything to spend a day in your mind.”
Tim would never want him to experience that.
Warm water showers him as Bernard moves the stream to his head, and Tim sighs at the feeling. The water thoroughly soaks his hair within a few moments when Bernard pushes his bangs away from his face and into the spray. It’s the perfect temperature, and the sink head’s pressure feels nice from so close.
It isn’t long before the spray is moved, and Tim hears the pop of a shampoo bottle’s lid. He glances over, and Bernard is letting a decent amount of Tim’s expensive shampoo pool in his palm. He sets the bottle aside and moves back in, and Tim hums as he feels his boyfriend’s fingers start to work the shampoo into his hair. He works first to build a lather but Tim’s hair is shorter these days, so it only takes a moment before he’s running his fingers from root to ends, coating every strand in soap. He blinks down at Tim when he notices him watching his face.
“Baby, relax. You don’t have to keep your eyes open,” Bernard insists. Tim hadn’t realized how intense he probably looked while staring. He laughs a little, and though he doesn’t always like the vulnerability of closing his eyes when he relaxes, it’s Bernard. He trusts him. His eyes fall closed as short nails scratch at his scalp lightly. The scent of his shampoo floats in the air like steam from the water’s heat. It’s a scent that he loves. He’s used the same shampoo for most of his life. It was the same brand and scent his mother used. It smells like home, the same way that Alfred’s laundry detergent and Stephanie’s body wash and Bernard’s hoodies do.
Tim sighs again, but this time, the tension bleeds out of his shoulders. He smiles a little. The scratches against his scalp and the slight tug of his hair as it’s washed feels…really nice.
He isn’t sure how long Bernard shampoos his hair before he finally pulls the warm spray of water back overhead to rinse the suds away. It was definitely longer than his hair length warranted. There’s something so domestic about this moment, and when he drowsily blinks his eyes open to check in on his boyfriend, the blonde’s expression looks just as content as he feels.
“Conditioner next,” Bernard says quietly, like he’s hesitant to break the silence that had fallen over them. “Doing okay?”
Tim nods sleepily. “Mhm,” he confirms. It was probably for the better that he’d be finishing soon, because once Tim let himself melt into the feeling, he knew he could easily fall asleep under Bernard’s affectionate ministrations. The conditioner goes on with just as much care as the shampoo. Tim actually leans his head back into the feeling as one hand scratches at the nape of his neck, the other one running through his bangs almost leisurely. Caressing his hair, almost like he’s being pet. The mental comparison doesn’t make him bristle the way he usually might. Nothing about the gesture feels condescending or insincere.
Soft lips brush his forehead. Butterflies stir in Tim’s gut at the unexpected affection, and a smile tugs at his lips. “Love you,” he murmurs. Bernard’s hands still for just a moment. Then, the lips are back again, this time kissing his cheek. The tip of his nose. His chin, just below his lips. When he finally kisses Tim’s lips, they get lost in it for a moment as Tim stretches his neck upwards to meet him.
Tim’s gripping the sleeve of Bernard’s sweater by the time he pulls away. “I love you, too.” He says like he’s desperate for Tim to believe him.
Tim does.
They sink into comfortable quiet again as Bernard rinses his hair. He’s thorough, making sure all of the conditioner has been washed out before he finally turns off the tap. The room suddenly seems much quieter now that the constant shower of water has stopped. Bernard tugs the towel around Tim’s neck up to tousle his hair. He rubs firmly enough that it jostles his head around, and there’s a mischievous glint in his eye as he does it.
Tim sticks his tongue out, rising to the bait but not truly annoyed. In fact, he’s relieved to see Bernard teasing him again. The tense worry from earlier had faded into something far sweeter.
Bernard finishes with the towel and drops it unceremoniously on Tim’s head. “There. Do you feel any better?” He asks. The smile can be heard in his voice, even while Tim is busy tossing the towel aside.
“Yeah. I think I do feel a bit better.” It’s an understatement. Tim feels lighter than he has in ages. Bernard looks relieved to hear it.
“Me too,” he confesses. Tim stands and stretches, lifting his arms high until his back pops. What he really wants after all that is to crawl into bed, preferably with Bernard, and sleep until his body feels fully rested. It’s not a luxury he often gets.
Tonight he feels like indulging. “Thank you, Berns. Really.”
“Tim, it’s no problem. I wanted to—oh,” Bernard perks up as Tim starts towards his bedroom, rather than his laptop where he’d usually spend hours after patrol finishing reports. Tim’s heart stutters pleasantly when he hears the footsteps immediately begin following him. “You’re sleeping already? Did I break you?”
Tim shakes his head at the last question. “Big spoon or little spoon?” He glances backwards as he pulls back the comforter. Bernard looks thrilled.
“Big. I wanna hold you,” he says, painfully earnest. And Tim still isn’t great with earnest, but god, Bernard makes it look so easy. So he lets himself be held. He lets himself drift off, feeling secure with strong arms squeezing tightly around his middle. He lets himself sleep in far later than he usually does.
And every now and then, after a particularly close call on patrol, he lets Bernard wash his hair for him.
#this was an exorcise in present tense and it kicked my ass#this fic has HANDS#anyway they’re gay and they make me sick /pos#why do they act like that. i cant stand them#batfamily#dc comics#tim drake#bernard dowd#timber#timbern#fic#fanfic#ficlet
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