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HEARTLESS 💔 - PART NINETEEN

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) x f!reader

Summary: Jack needs to go on a mission and leave you and Wyatt at home; it hurts him but he needs to get the job done, at the same time you and your son prepare yourselves for Halloween 🎃

(This is the nineteenth chapter of my HEARTLESS 💔 series)

• PART ONE TO EIGHTEEN ON MY MASTERLIST

Warnings: fluff, a little bit of angst and overall no other warnings to avoid spoilers so you are on your own here besties

A/N: I missed our cowboy so much, my besties! As this is almost the end of our lovely story, we need to let him and sugar go with their happy ending, but of course there's still some Halloween treats going on. Also, kind of obvious but this chapter takes place on Halloween

5.8k words

If someone asked Wyatt exactly what a marriage was, he wouldn't be able to explain it properly, he didn't understand much about grown up stuff, it was boring and his little life of playing with animals and with his toys and eating his mommy's delicious food while being a cowboy with his daddy was way more important to him; however, Wyatt had watched enough cartoons to know that mommies and daddies lived together with their babies and his dad had told him that if his mommy accepted his surprise, then that would happen to them and he was excited about that.

Wyatt was so willing to have you and his daddy together for good, he took all the instructions Jack had given him seriously, because he wanted everything to be perfect for you, he wanted his mommy to be happy with his daddy after all, and for that, he would help Jack do whatever he needed, but luckily, his daddy's first instruction, apart from being completely silent about the beautiful, glowing ring, Wyatt was asked to act as normal as possible, so he could surprise you when the moment was right, and so was it that the next few days went by completely normal, you and Jack were going strong in your recent relationship as Wyatt was enjoying farm life more and more, and the very few times you actually had to go back to the city in order to pick up more clothes, check on your apartment and make sure everything was in order, your son was each time sadder and sadder to leave the ranch. He had everything he ever loved in there, a life with his mommy and daddy, animals, Silver Pony and Silver Star and the mere prospect of having to go back to the city scared him to death. He loved his home and his family and he had made up his little mind he wouldn't leave without a fight. Luckily to him, you also had no plans of returning to the city, as the weeks passed and your relationship progressed with Jack, you didn't see the need of returning permanently to the city. Of course it was still necessary to do so, eventually for some doctor appointments, shopping for new clothes and stuff like that, but if you were going to be honest with yourself, you also didn't see you and your son going back to a small, cramped apartment once you got used to that gorgeous ranch. It was beautiful, spacious and it had everything you needed; not to mention you had re-encountered love once more. Saying you weren't madly in love with that stupid cowboy would be a huge lie, it's not that you had ever fallen out of love with him, you hadn't, even during the worst time of your life and how cruel he'd been to you; you should have done it though, however, you simply couldn't. Even during the hard moments in which you burned with anger at the mere thought of what he'd done to you, that intense love was just there, underneath all. You had both dreamed and dreaded the moment Whiskey would walk back into your life not knowing what to do, and even if it was hard at first, then you were thankful it happened in a way you are able to see Jack really meant his feelings and you both couldn't fight the passion any longer, even if you still felt a paralyzing fear of being hurt, you decided to trust your man in your own terms: he had a chance, the only and final one, and in case he did anything to ruin that, then you and him would be history.

Luckily to you and Wyatt, Jack was nothing but the best and most caring boyfriend and father; all he wanted was to make sure you and your son were happy and well. He would spoil the two of you and do anything in his power so you would be next to him. He loved you more than anything in the world and his son was the most precious little thing he could ever ask for. He was taking care of his family like he should have from the beginning and there was no stopping him this time. That's why he went over his plan with Wyatt for several days, talking to his son and using his help to form an alliance in order to make you the best proposal he could think of. Yeah, you two had been engaged before your son's birth, but you didn't want it to be like that, especially because you both had come to an agreement of having a new beginning. So Jack kept your former engagement in a box and locked it in his closet, it was a pretty ring, but he still remembers coming home still feeling hot headed after the argument you two had over the revelation of your pregnancy. One of, if not the biggest regret he'd ever had in his life was definitely his reaction towards the news that changed both of your lives. He didn't know what to say or what to do after you broke the news to him, it was in fact, as if he had stopped processing facts for a while. However, when he finally realized what had happened it was as if something had broken inside of him, he felt as if he had lost the ground under his feet and above all, he felt betrayed, as if it didn't matter to you the family he had previously lost. Of course Jack knew that wasn't it, he knew he was severely mentally ill at the time and that was a reflection of it, and yet, he also knew he should have been a decent man for you and your son. But instead, he'd told you unspeakable things, he'd made you the vilest proposition someone could ever think of - for you to choose between him and your son - and he left you crying, on your own and went to a bar to get wasted.

When he came back home, all he found was the silence and emptiness he felt surrounded him and also around him. Your clothes, belongings, accessories, everything that made that home a little more yours than just his were gone, and the only proof you'd ever been there was the engagement ring you left on his pillow. You'd made your choice; you'd chosen your son.

So that was the whole reason why he thought it would be a nice idea to get you a new engagement ring, he had a feeling the previous ring carried a lot more negative meaning than the two of you would like to admit. Besides, he got to choose a brand new jewelry for you, not sparing any money - one of the greatest advantages of being a high profile Statesman employee after all. After gathering his son's help, Jack waited for the perfect moment, he was anxious and nervous, as he hadn't really planned on a specific scenario, instead, he tried to find a suitable time and place, feel in his heart when it should happen, preferably when Wyatt was also around, as your son showed great interest in it, being a supporter of the idea since the beginning.

It happened in the late afternoon, just a regular day of the week that ended up becoming one of the most special days of your life. You and your family had gone for a horse ride, Jack deciding - with your agreement - that Wyatt was already old enough to learn how to ride a horse, you three stopped by at the stables but the little boy went with Silver Star, which didn't stop her from trying to running and that lead your cowboy to use his lasso to stop her and your son from going too fast. On one hand you were a little scared, your heart racing from seeing your baby boy looking so big and independent from his parents, but also a huge wave of pride to see him becoming a cowboy just like his dad.

You'd made a basket with treats and sandwiches in order to have a picnic and the moment you three settled by the willow trees - one of your favorite places at his ranch - and Jack realized the sun was setting, creating the perfect atmosphere of laughter, happiness and a beautiful landscape. He winked and nodded at his son showing him it was time to propose to his mommy. Wyatt clapped his small hands in excitement and watched intently while the cowboy got on his knees in front of you, taking your hand and professing you love words. You knew what was happening, but at the same time it felt like you didn't, as your heart was racing so much and the tears simply couldn't stop clouding your vision. You held your breath the moment he showed you a brand new engagement ring, it was one of the most beautiful jewelry you'd ever seen in your life and there was no way you could ever say no to that.

The moment Jack finally asked you the question, proposing to you and you said yes, it was as if time had stopped and there were only the three of you in the world, your happy little family, you, your son and your future husband. You had said yes and that was how you were officially engaged to Jack Daniels once more.

•••

"Sugar, listen to me…" Jack placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer "it will be a short mission, in a few days I'll be back home, I ain't even looking towards any women, you know they don't compare to you. I've never been unfaithful to you and I ain't starting now sugar…"

You could see the honesty and pleading in his eyes and even if it was recomforting to be assured like that by him and acknowledge how dedicated he was to you, however, you would be over the moon if your concern was reduced to only a bunch of whores throwing themselves onto your man.

"Cowboy, it's not it, I mean, I know you're faithful and I'm also faithful to you, and I will always be… but I'm scared and worried. You remember what happened on your last mission… I don't want that to happen again, I mean, I don't even want to think of the slightest possibility of it, please. You have a family now, me and Wyatt, you are leaving us home, but we want you here with us" You used just about the same pleading eyes in order to convince your cowboy to stay, you couldn't place your finger exactly on why you were so anxious and needy, but if it were up to you, you'd use his lasso to keep him tied down to your bed, not letting him leave at all. You felt so vulnerable without even understanding why, but your biggest desire was to be held by him and assured he wouldn't move an inch away from you. He placed his hands on the side of your face and stroked your cheek so gently, affection and love pouring from him as he saw you looking so helpless at that moment. He leaned in for a kiss and smiled

"It will be fine, sugar. It will be just a few days as I said, I'll be alright, keep my ass safe… you know it's an emergency, that's why Champ called me, I will call you every day, and I'll make sure to keep you updated, I have a gorgeous family to come home to, and I ain't never let that go, now please, help me out because I can't have two sad puppy faces staring at me like that without breaking my heart" he pointed at Wyatt who pouted and looked at his daddy's bag. You felt emotional and didn't know exactly what to do, but you nodded, as your future husband needed help. He was the best damn agent that place had ever seen, of course he would come back home safely.

You wiped your tears and lowered yourself, picking up your son and snuggling him.

"Don't be upset my angel, daddy will be gone just for a little while, right daddy?!" You looked at him, who picked up the cue and nodded

"Yeah buddy, daddy will be away for a couple of days to work, but I need you to be a strong cowboy and take care of mama, can you do that for me?" Wyatt nodded reluctantly, his red eyes almost making the cowboy turn around and give up the idea of going to work. He couldn't though, otherwise he would've done it once for all. The cowboy couldn't resist the urge of wrapping his arms around his son, pulling him for a tight embrace.

"You know daddy loves you and mama more than anything in the world, right? It will be for a short while, and soon enough I'll be here for you, remember you wanted to go out trick or treating? Daddy promises he will be back before Halloween, okay?"

After Wyatt nodded, sighing but snuggling him and you also pulled him into a real needy and long hug, leaving home to go on a mission was definitely the hardest task that cowboy had done; he questioned himself if he was doing the right thing, after all, when he got suspended from Statesman, all he wanted to do was get back on the field and show them all he was still a top notch agent, the best they'd ever had and that he could handle any kind of situation, but once he saw how his family felt anxious and upset about him leaving, he felt tortured to go to work, he didn't have to, he had plenty of money and wouldn't need to work violent and dangerous job now he was settling down once more. Still, he felt like he owed that to Champ, even if he disappointed the older man with his bad conduct during the last mission, they still shared a very special bond - Jack was like the son Champ never had, and the younger cowboy envisioned the older one as a fatherly figure. No wonder why Jack ended up only in therapy after nearly sabotaging such a serious mission instead of going to prison. He hopped on his Bronco and drove to the headquarters, trying not to think much of his broken heart to be gone.

The first night was rough without your cowboy, even if Whiskey had called, and then he had video chatted and talked to both you and Wyatt, it was still so sad and lonely without him. Worse than the years you spent alone with your son, the absence of Jack now was depressing, after staying with him, living almost an endless honeymoon it was upsetting to say the least. That night, your sweet Wyatt snuggled closer to you in bed and you only fell asleep with your face buried deep into his curls.

What really changed your routine happened the morning after Jack left; it was as if you knew something was up but you couldn't actually get a hold of it, instead, you simply woke up with the worst wave of nausea you'd ever witnessed. It was odd, you hadn't had dinner the night before nor eaten anything suspicious, so the first thought that crossed your mind was immediately dismissed. You couldn't and you wouldn't.

As much as you tried to push aside those thoughts, they insisted on coming back whenever you got distracted, you tried your best keeping your mind busy, focusing on the son you actually had. So you and Wyatt spent most days together, playing, cooking and baking, even if the slightest food smell made you feel sick to your stomach and riding and petting the horses. You knew Halloween was approaching and Wyatt was excited to go trick-or-treating, as it was going to be the first ever Halloween his daddy would be a part of it and even if you two had actually to drive downtown to do it, as the ranches were too apart from each other, you still promised him you would carve the pumpkins with your son, and you sort of kept your promise, if it weren't for the fact the moment you began cutting open the pumpkins, the smell was enough to make your stomach twist and you had to rush to the bathroom, however, this time wasn't possible to hide it from your son, which caused Wyatt to run to you worriedly

"Are you okay mommy?" He asked you while placing his small hands on your back "can we call daddy please?"

You shook your head and smiled weakly at him

"No baby, mommy is fine, I just got a tummy bug, that's all" you assured him, even though you knew there was more to it and you simply just didn't want to admit it. You asked your son for a bottle of water from the fridge as you grabbed your phone and checked the app you used to keep your cycle in check and even if you knew the answer, a part of you was still so stubborn you couldn't bring yourself to believe it. Taking turns between checking your app and the calendar, you sighed and closed your eyes, letting yourself digest the information that your period was late.

There was a huge chance you were pregnant again.

You couldn't sleep at all that night, tossing and turning in bed and playing the most different scenarios in your head. Jack would be happy, wouldn't he? He was the one who was insisting on having a baby, but you also terrified yourself at the possibility that maybe, he was just trying to convince you to marry him. What if he changed his mind and panicked? What if he never came back from the mission? No, you shook your head and squinted your eyes, trying to physically keep your anxiety away from you. The very little you managed to doze off were filled with dreams about you and the cowboy getting into a huge fight and breaking up. That was something that couldn't happen, you knew your heart wouldn't take that kind of disappointment for a second time, and if he even threatened to walk away from you both, well, from you three, you would never see him again.

But a part of you desperately begged you to calm down and relax a little, maybe you weren't even pregnant, you couldn't say for sure without a test, and all of that could've been just a mind trick after panicking so much at the idea your body actually began reproducing that kind of symptoms. It wasn't the first time your period was that late and it could have been a stomach bug, after all you hadn't been eating well since your cowboy left you a week ago. There was still at least another one to come and the idea of actually buying yourself a pregnancy test was horrifying. However, since Wyatt started asking you to dress up as a zombie cowboy, you knew you would have to buy him some things such as fake bruises stickers and a costume hat, as you wouldn't risk ruining the beautiful and expensive stetson Jack had gifted your son. It would be the perfect excuse, you would do some Halloween shopping and also get yourself a test, everything would be just fine, you assured yourself, after all, you still had a small hope in your heart things were nothing but your mind playing tricks on you.

The next morning, while Wyatt went to get dressed as fast as he could so you both could go out and get him his costume, you watched yourself in the mirror. We're your breasts larger? You didn't know if they actually were or if you were under the wrong impression, if Whiskey had been there, he would be able to tell it immediately. In fact, he would probably be the first one to even notice it. Then you stared at your stomach, was it a little swollen or you were just getting paranoid? As you were lost in your thoughts with your blouse lifted you felt tiny hands on your tummy and looked down at Wyatt's smiley face staring at you

"You look so pretty, mommy!" He said happily and smiled big at you, his small arms wrapping around your waist as he rested his head against your womb and sighed deeply. He was an affectionate boy, but he had never done that before… Why start it now?

You stroked his curls very gently and lowered yourself to his level

"Do you think mommy looks different?" You asked

"No, just pretty" he shrugged happily and ran outside the bedroom.

•••

Another week had passed without any confirmation nor denial; you simply didn't have the guts to take that test and see for yourself if you were indeed pregnant or not. You talked to your cowboy every single night, and even if he thought it was odd you weren't up for some web sex with him, he didn't push it, as you simply lied by saying you were on your period. Whiskey could tell something was off, but he assumed it was just a combination of his absence and your tiredness. Besides, Wyatt was staying up later each night, so he could talk to his daddy which caused you both to behave yourselves.

You had taken Wyatt out for shopping, he'd bought as many Halloween things he wanted, you also bought some extra candy just in case some trick or treaters passes by the ranch, which you thought it wouldn't happen, but you didn't want to risk not having any and while your son was too distracted by the shampoo aisle - you'd asked him to pick the best shampoo to wash his hair - you grabbed your pregnancy tests. Tests. Because you wouldn't trust just one, so you decided three would be a decent enough number. It broke your heart to see how sweet Wyatt was the moment he spotted a mother shopping with her baby girl. The moment he saw her, he giggled and rushed to them "look mommy! A cute baby!!!" Wyatt had squealed just as you hid the tests under a bunch of other stuff you followed him, smiling at how sensitive your son was. You nodded and agreed with him, playing with his soft curls.

Not only that, after the episode, Wyatt spent the whole week asking you about babies. If you thought they were cute, if he was a nice baby, if you and his daddy had a baby would it be a normal baby or would it be a cowboy baby. In other circumstances, you would be very amused by his questions, but given what was going on, you felt extremely anxious about it. Perhaps that was the whole reason why you kept postponing the test for days; however, you knew Jack was about to come home any day now, and you needed to have an answer, it wasn't fair to you or him, not to mention he would see right through you and figure something was definitely wrong. So the day before Halloween, you made your son dinner - chicken nuggets, mashed potatoes and peas, his favorite - and played with him until he fell asleep. When you were sure you wouldn't be interrupted, you finally took courage, grabbed your tests and followed the instructions.

And the wait began.

And it felt like forever, until the whole three of them showed the lines indicating that indeed, you were pregnant.

You didn't react for several minutes, perhaps it was the shock, even if you deep down inside already knew you were expecting a baby. You were going to be a mom, again. You got pregnant by the man who abandoned you and your son once, would it go wrong this time? You didn't want to believe it, at the same time you were flooding with all kinds of anxious thoughts and feelings. You wish you could just curl up on the couch and fall asleep until you could come up with a solution to that situation, but Wyatt's fast steps drew your attention "mommy!!! Help me get dressed!!!" He giggled as he barged in his cowboy outfit, holding his fake blood and wound stickers. His excitement was so adorable, it made your heart warm at how cute he really was. You wrapped your arms tight around him, pulling him closer and snuggling your son. He was a little confused at your affection but giggled "help me mommy!" He asked as he couldn't wait to go out.

The moment you saw your son, your heart warmed and filled with love, he was so precious, the most important little thing in your life, and you'd just learned you were growing a new life inside of your womb, his baby brother or sister, you didn't know, but at that moment, only Wyatt mattered, the way he looked so excited, his little chocolate eyes glimmering you decided you would stop feeling sorry for yourself, you were a grown woman, you had been through a pregnancy once and you could do it a second time. No matter if your cowboy was going to step up or not, though you hoped really hard he would, you would focus on your son, making sure he had the Halloween he had waited for all along.

•••

Wyatt jumped excitedly, although he still held your hand and smiled big

"I got a lot of candies, mommy!!!" He giggled as you carried his bag which was indeed way heavier than what it could be considered healthy. His costume was adorable, a mix of zombie and a cowboy as he fit in perfectly with the other kids. You had driven downtown where all the people gathered and enjoyed the festive day, seeing how your life would be like for the following years. You knew Jack had no intentions of moving away, definitely not going to the city, which you also agreed. You liked that atmosphere, the small town kind of warmth, it was nice and you also remembered you would need to start looking for a new school for Wyatt. And not only that, you would need to care for a whole new baby, and Jack wasn't even there to calm you down. And that was when it hit you: he hadn't called you that night, even worse, he had promised you and Wyatt he would spend Halloween with you both, as a family, but instead, he had established no communication and a wave of anxiety and worry rushed through you as you began picturing the worst possible scenarios. The story of Jack nearly dying his last mission, the cruelty of the death he nearly faced still haunted you and you would be lying if you didn't wake up quite a few times at night after having a nightmare about losing your cowboy. You couldn't give into those horrible thoughts, not at that moment, your son was happy, you were spending a very nice time together and if it weren't for the fact a lasso wrapped around you and Wyatt, making you both stop dead in your tracks…

And a lasso?!

You and Wyatt exchanged confused looks before turning around and facing Whiskey's shit eating grin as he was in his fight position, lasso in hands and looking every bit of devilish handsome he always did. Damn, stupid pregnancy hormones.

"DADDY!!!" Wyatt's deafening squeal was enough for Whiskey to loosen the rope around you both as he opened his arms to receive his son's sweet hug. They had missed each other so much, he couldn't even believe he had actually had the guts to leave his family to go on a mission, but the important thing was that he was back, in time to spend one of his son's favorite holidays. He wrapped his arms around Wyatt and snuggled him, kissing the top of his head and ruffing his hair gently, loving his costume, and chuckling at the enthusiasm in which your son told his daddy every single little thing that happened the days he spent away. And then it was your turn to rush to your cowboy, being too emotional after everything that happened, including the mini internal meltdown you had at the mere fear he had died during the mission, you rushed to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. Your cowboy was finally back home, to you and your family, and you couldn't be happier as you needed him more than anything now.

Jack was so happy at the warm welcome he received from his family and he knew that was exactly what he wanted all along; he wanted to have a good reason to come back home to, and now he had it. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you for another kiss, he saw how beautiful you were, you were almost glowing and there was something different about you even if he couldn't actually tell what it was.

"I missed you sugar" he whispered against your lips and looked down as Wyatt kept tugging at his sleeve, wanting to spend some time with his daddy, after missing him desperately

"Come on daddy, let's trick or treat!" Wyatt begged with his cute puppy face, his energy restored to the fullest now he was surprised by the wave of excitement at the fact his father was there, for him and for his mommy.

•••

Jack had returned from his mission just about an hour before meeting his family, he thought of calling you and let you both know, but instead, he decided to surprise you and it couldn't have been better. He knew you two would be downtown, so it wasn't difficult to spot his family, but as much as he wanted to come closer, you were both walking fast at a reasonable distance from him, so the best idea that came to his mind was simply using his lasso on the two of you, which was both funny and cute, since you never saw it coming, but to him, the best part was when the two of you rushed to him, as if he'd been gone for months instead of just two weeks. It made his heart clench with love and affection, he was finally home, with his family and he cherished that like no other. The way they spent the rest of the evening walking around, getting Wyatt more candy, then they stopped by a small cute place to have some corn dogs and then the three of you headed home.

Wyatt only fell asleep after hours home, he had eaten some of his candy, while you figured what you'd do with the rest of it since it was way too much. Your cowboy had barely taken off his jacket and was already all over Wyatt, leaving you some time for yourself, in which you showered, and got ready for bed. You still didn't know how or when you'd break the news to him, but you felt your stomach twisting the moment you saw him walking towards you with a bottle of wine. You couldn't drink that, what were you supposed to say? Luckily to you, Jack hadn't insisted and even if he was a little suspicious, he didn't question you why you'd said you had a headache, though he seemed a little disappointed to miss you the opportunity to have a drink with you, he still kissed your lips gently and went to shower, needing the relaxation and the hot water pouring over his sore shoulders. He was so happy to be home, all he wanted was to finish his warm shower and get under the covers with his sugar, so he could relax and enjoy a moment of peace. Once he finished showering, he decided to shave, wanting his face to be smooth as possible in case his sugar decided to ride her cowboy. It didn't take him too long to finish, just a little trim on his mustache and he would be good to go. He didn't know exactly why he looked down, at the trash can, but for whatever reason he did it, and at first when he saw those boxes in it, he thought maybe they were antibiotic boxes, but that didn't make any sense, if either you or Wyatt got sick to the point of getting antibiotics you would've said something, so the cowboy squinted his eyes in order to take a better look at it and felt his heart skipping a beat the moment he realized it was indeed a pregnancy test.

In fact, it wasn't just a pregnancy test, there were quite a few boxes, which meant you really made sure to know whatever the result was. Now, it deeply saddened him to know why you hadn't said anything, you hadn't even mentioned the suspicions you had; and it also made sense why you were acting a little off. Jack shook his head and swallowed hard, he had desired to have a baby with you, another one, to give your son a baby brother and sister, and it hurt him to see you decided to be silent about it because he had hurt you way too many times. However, he couldn't simply shrug it off and pretend nothing had happened, he needed to talk things through and for that, he took the proof into his hands and went after you.

•••

When you heard Jack calling your name instead of 'sugar' you knew something was wrong. You swallowed hard, knowing something was up, just by the way he walked towards you. Your heart neatly dropped the moment you saw exactly what he was carrying. That was not how you wanted him to find out about things, you wish you had prepared him beforehand, talked to him or perhaps prepared him a cute surprise, you weren't sure, but you were so scared.

"Is this what I think it is? Are you really pregnant sugar?"

"I-I am so sorry Jack, I didn't mean to get pregnant, it was an accident, I didn't want to do that, please don't be mad and don't leave us, please" you begged but you were interrupted by the cowboy falling onto his knees in front of you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and with tears in his eyes, he lifted your shirt up only enough to see your belly. He placed an affectionate kiss to it and rested his head against it in complete silence. He didn't need to say anything else, he was hopelessly in love with the fact he was going to be a father again and this time he would do things right.

____

A/N: I hope you besties enjoyed this chapter, because the next one will be the end of this beautiful series 🥺❤️

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osped · 6 months

Text

Crawling Back to You

Pairing: Incubus!Dieter Bravo x Virgin F!Reader

Summary: Have you no idea that you're in deep?

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, religious corruption kink, bastardizing prayers, brief drug use, mentions of alcohol consumption, grinding, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, breaking a hymen, descriptions of blood, biting and drawing blood, pheromone incubus anatomy, size difference/kink like whoa, monster transformation, monster fucking, PiV sex, wildly unrealistic sex, kind of dubious consent in the way that she has no idea what she's getting into so Dieter checks in A LOT, consent is sexy and monsters especially should ask for it, Reader has no idea what she's doing when it comes to summoning an incubus.

Notes: Like most things Dieter's involved in, it takes twice as long but you reap the most rewards. A little late for Halloween, but spooky season is 24/7 and I needed to put this out into the world as soon as possible. Very special gold star mutual thanks due to @ezrasbirdie who gave me the prompt for this story and then talked me through some of the ideas she had. Religious corruption kink is super new for me, not being raised in a formal religion, but it was incredibly interesting to explore in this way. Apologies for the sacrilege, friends, it's all in the pursuit of sexyness.

A big disclaimer! This is not a blueprint for losing your virginity! This is some wildly unrealistic sex, especially for someone who has never experienced PiV intercourse before! Please be safe and careful with your bodies. While we thirst over these scenarios and would love to take monster cocks, always practice safe and fun sex with partners who care about your comfort.

A second disclaimer that in this fic, the Reader defines losing her virginity as experiencing penetrative sex and breaking her unbroken hymen. Virginity does not look the same for every person, and each individual's circumstances may be very different. Virginity is also a social construct that has some gross stigmas around it, which we'll be briefly addressing. I've also kept the reader's age unspecified (18+ of course) but that she has gone to college, so whatever age you may be reading this, your own sexual journey moves at your pace and if/when you define that you've passed this milestone, that's the right time for you.

Cross-posted on AO3

The lines chalked into your hardwood floors glow with a sudden and panic-inducing heat, smoldering as a phantom breeze whips around your kneeling body. The lights in your apartment flicker and dim as a sooty haze hangs around your ankles. Springing to your feet, you frantically search for something to smear the careful symbols to nonsense while a crackle of electricity raises all of the hair on the back of your arms and neck.

It’s much too late to go back now.

Something pulls in the center of your chest as the room expands and contracts like a great beast breathing. You try to stand strong but the tremble in your frame chatters your teeth. Suddenly the room plunges into darkness, and a crack echoes in your ears before the light swells back to full strength. Bracing yourself for what may be in the circle you foolishly copied, you peel open your eyes.

Then, your mouth falls open, because never in your wildest dreams did you expect Dieter Bravo, famous actor, to be sitting in the middle of your half-assed summoning circle.

“What the fuck?”

He looks just as bewildered as you do, cross-legged on the floor and pulling his lips from a turquoise bong cradled in his lap. He’s wearing sunglasses - did you spirit him here from halfway around the world? - and an open silk bathrobe patterned with roaring tigers. The waterfall of folds bundle in his lap, and for a mouth-drying moment you wonder if he’s got anything on beneath. Then he shifts, billowing a cloud of skunky smoke at your ceiling and placing the bong at arms length.

Well, he is wearing socks at least, pulled halfway up his legs and under Crocs. You don’t know whether to laugh or choke on your tongue.

“What the fuck to you too,” he grumbles, creakily getting to his feet and dusting little frills of ash from his shoulders. It’s now easy to see he’s sporting tiny black boxer briefs, and your eyes fight to land anywhere but there. They finally find the book, opened to the page you scoffed over until your finished glass of wine goaded you on.

“This can’t be happening,” you finally squeak out, shifting on the balls of your feet as you spin and press your fingers into your cheeks.

“Sure is,” Dieter says, one hand on his hip and looking at you with naked curiosity. He’s swept back the robe on one side, showing off the shapely curve of his thigh, the soft definition of his stomach, how large his hands…

“I didn’t…I couldn’t have…you…go back,” you stammer, heart and head pounding. Does this mean you’re a witch? Did you honestly summon something with a book you rented from the library? Nothing makes sense with this man staring at you - practically leering - as you contemplate whether you’re having a dusty-old-book-based hallucination.

“Breathe, baby,” Dieter purrs, hands making soothing motions in the air between you. Taking in a big breath and letting it out explosively, you follow Dieter’s motions to sit down with him. The floor is hard and unforgiving on your bottom, but you criss-cross-applesauce with him as he leans back on his hands.

“Normally when I show up, people aren’t all that surprised,” he says, and his voice is raspy and sonorous in the room. You swallow hard, finding comfort in twisting the hem of your pajama shirt in your palms.

“Well, it’s pretty damn surprising to have THE Dieter Bravo in my living room,” you say, a momentary swell of pride when you realize your sarcasm hasn’t flown the coop with your sanity. Dieter chuckles, tilting his head onto one shoulder.

“Who were you expecting?”

“Honestly, no one. Nothing,” you lie. Half-lie. You were hoping for something pretty specific.

“Very cute, but let’s not pretend we don’t know what’s going on here. I know exactly what you were hoping would pop up in this pretty little circle of yours.”

Your eyes wander to his inner thigh, then snap to a symbol on the floor.

“I thought…” You sigh, ducking your head. “I thought I was summoning some sort of…sexy demon. At least that’s what the book said.”

“An incubus,” Dieter offers, and you nod.

“But clearly something went wrong, because you’re here, somehow.” You scrub a hand over your face. “No idea how I messed up this bad. I didn’t even know you could mess up this badly.”

“Oh, you didn’t,” Dieter says in a carefree voice. “Mess up, that is.” You arch an eyebrow at him.

“But I got…you.”

Dieter leans forward, elbows on his knees as he cocks his head with a knowing smile. In the dim light of your apartment his eyes seem even darker than before.

“Exactly what you asked for. At your service.” He tips his head, tongue slipping from between his plush lips to swipe along his full lower one. A sudden patter of arousal grips your hips, and he half closes his eyes and breathes deep.

“That can’t…you’re Dieter Bravo.”

“Yes.”

“You’re an…incubus.”

“Also yes.”

The next question blurts out of your mouth too quickly to stop.

“Why?”

His laugh is just as quick and breaks some of the tension digging into your spine. The warmth of it wraps your head in cotton, smiling along.

“Oh, starlet, I should be pissed as hell to be pulled away from that fantastic party I was about to ruin, but this is turning out to be much more fun.” Your cheeks warm at the affectionate name. “How many people do you think summon incubi these days? A demon’s gotta get by.” He’s sliding closer to the edge of the circle but not moving past it. A small voice in the back of your mind notes that he might not be able to.

“So…acting,” you say, not without a little smirk. He seems to like that, smile stretching wider and crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“What, should I be slinging burgers?” he asks with another snort of laughter. “C’mon, don’t tell me it doesn’t make sense. Beautiful people, sex appeal galore, fast living and high octane relationships? I haven’t been hungry in ages.”

Your hands still in your lap, studying your fingers as you let the silence linger. Dieter allows it for a time before his voice pulls you back.

“But you summoned, and I came. You must have a reason.”

Now that the silly half-buzzed fantasy is mere feet from you, saying it aloud is daunting.

“You’ll…you won’t get it.”

His eyebrows lift in slow surprise.

“Try me.”

You're turned on more than you’ve ever experienced in your life, and Dieter’s nostrils flare as his jaw ticks.

“I was having a drink. A couple,” you correct, the dregs of the bottle giving you away. “And I was just hating the way I was feeling about everything going on and I looked at this book and it seemed like a funny thing, to try and summon a demon…”

“Incubus, get it right,” Dieter purrs, and the air thickens.

“I didn’t think it would work,” you protest, hands coming up to cradle your temples.

“But you hoped, enough to do all this work on the one day of the year when magic is easiest to grasp,” he teases, tilting his head to the side to catch your eye. It’s definitely not helping the situation that he’s Dieter Bravo, solid C-list star who’d captured your attention in more than one of his movies. Thoughts of his dark eyes and full lips drew your hands down your body on more than one occasion before…

Dieter growls low and frustrated. “Let’s cut to the chase, starlet. You’re laying out a buffet and I can’t even have a taste.” You blink owlishly at him before he smirks, licking an incisor. “I can smell how much you want me.”

Shock slams your mouth shut, face burning. Your traitorous body has failed you again.

“You called and I answered. I’m still in your circle, so you could send me away, but I doubt you know how to do that.”

He’s right. You’ve trapped him here. With little old you.

“Or, you could tell me what you really wanted when you spent all this time writing all these little symbols so carefully.” Dieter’s fingers dance along the chalk lines, smile turning cheekier. Steeling yourself, you let the truth out into open air.

“I called you because…I’ve never had anyone before.”

Dieter’s face remains cooly neutral, but you can see his nostrils flare briefly.

“You’ve never…”

You shrug, self-deprecating smile cutting through the awkwardness.

“I’ve done some things, by myself, but never…I’ve never had sex with anyone in the…classical way.” The words are starched and wooden but hit a chord with Dieter. He repositions to sit back on his knees, hands splayed on his bare thighs. The smooth expanse of his chest begs to be touched.

“I thought I smelled something special here, and I was oh so right,” he rasps, nipping at his lower lip while he drags his eyes over your body. “Human virginity is a social construct, but inexperience in pleasure? Being allowed to revel in your body discovering all the ways it can feel? That is a rare treat.”

You don’t expect the sudden rush of emotions at Dieter’s eagerness. Years of people either finding you broken or fetishizing your “purity” had given you an even larger complex than you thought.

“It’s not…fucked up that I’m doing this?” you ask.

“What sounds better to you, letting some Chad fumble through trying to pleasure you when his dick can barely handle your sweet cunt, or allowing someone with centuries of experience give you everything you ever desired?”

Your aforementioned cunt knows which one she wants.

“May I ask why you’ve waited until now?” he says, interrupting your railroading thoughts. Shyness and shame clouds your eyes.

“My parents were very religious. Lots of ‘thou shalt nots’ and ‘obey thys’. But I wanted to be a good daughter. So badly.” Dieter’s eyes are darkening as you speak, fingers pressing divots into his thighs. “So I did everything they said. Followed all the rules. And I grew up their perfect little girl. Never got caught sneaking out with a boy, never drank or smoked or anything.”

“How…boring,” Dieter comments. It stings between your shoulders.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much all I heard when I went to college. That I was boring for not liking weed. A buzzkill because I was nervous about breaking rules. And sex…”

Here you swallow, your lower lip trembling before you bite it back.

“I thought I was doing everything right. Everyone told me I was doing everything right. And then I get into the real world and nobody wants…” Looking up you catch a softer expression on Dieter’s face, true understanding blunting the lust.

“How have these fumbling fools tried to pleasure you?” he asks, and maybe the wine is still thrumming in your veins (it’s not), but your tongue is looser than it’s ever been.

“Grinding mostly. I think they’ve…cum…but I don’t. Not like when I do it myself.”

Dieter snarls softly. “Fuckers,” he rumbles, an oncoming thunderclap crackled with electricity.

“Every time I feel like I’m damaged goods,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I thought maybe this would…fix me.”

The lights in the room dip low as Dieter chuckles. Darkness seems drawn to him, settling around his shoulders like a fine stole.

“Betrayed by the God you worshiped so faithfully,” he muses, rolling his shoulders and licking his lips. “Don’t worry, starlet, I’ll take care of you tonight.”

“Can I…do anything for you?” you ask. Dieter’s smile softens, tutting quietly.

“Believe me, you’ll be perfect,” he praises, the heat in your cheeks even more unbearable. “Like I said, I’m rarely hungry anymore, but your arousal will be delicious. I’ll gorge myself on your peaks and leave you sated…and ruined for any after me.”

That should be a warning. It only makes your want greater.

“Okay,” you breathe out. Dieter’s smile widening again. Are his teeth…sharper?

“Now we can fuck to our heart’s content in this summoning circle here,” Dieter says, tapping his finger in the air. Motes of copper light and sparks rain down from an invisible barrier. “I’ve had more challenging obstacles. But if you would like me at my best, break the circle starlet.”

Standing back up, you retrieve a cloth from your kitchen table. When you return Dieter is standing in the center, prowling ever so slightly in his tiny prison. You move to wipe the line connecting the circle when…

“Are other celebrities incubi?” you ask, kneeling in front of him with open curiosity on your face. Dieter’s predatory smile quickly shuffles to confused and incredulous.

“I mean, maybe, I don’t keep close tabs.”

“Tom Hiddleston could totally be one. Or Robert Downey Jr. Heck, maybe Marvel just employs incubi to keep their revenue going…” Leaning down, you move to wipe the mark.

“Strange little starlet,” Dieter chuckles, and a warm breeze tickles the back of your neck. With one swipe the circle is broken.

“Hannah Waddingham would totally be…” you start to say, nerves tumbling words from your lips, but thankfully Dieter’s stop them.

He moves so quickly for a moment you’re sure he’s going to devour you, tear you limb from limb for imprisoning him. Instead he crashes your mouths together, hand firm on the back of your neck as his broad shoulders press you on your back. His hips slot between your thighs so smoothly you’re arching into them before you can think straight. Once your head is carefully lowered to the floor his hands find your wrists and press them above your head, maneuvering your thighs to wrap you around his waist. The dizzying feat of agility pales in comparison to his kiss.

Dieter commands your mouth to submit, tongue hot and lewd between your lips. You’re afraid you’ll choke on your own but he strokes delicate paths into the lush depths that keep you barely breathing. His lips are plush and yielding, pulling away to drag against the corner of your mouth or teasing the edge of your lips. And his teeth. You’d had boys clack against you, or press them harshly against your lips. Dieter knows exactly when to scrape them against your tongue, how much pressure to put with your lower lip trapped, the anticipation of them sliding against your skin before he dives in again.

“What a soft, pretty thing you are,” he rasps, and there’s a deep grinding quality to his voice now. Like stones moving slowly past one another, it vibrates straight to your clit as he inhales deeply behind your ear.

“Dieter…” you manage, his face lifting from his ecstasy to study your own. His eyes are somehow losing the edge of white, expanding into inky blackness. He lazily laps at his lower lip, and when you lean up to kiss his chin he snarls and presses deep into your apex.

“I’m sorry, starlet, I forgot you’ve been waiting to break promises,” he teases, sliding a hand down to knead at your ass. As quickly as you were laid out you’re suddenly in the air, legs wrapped around Dieter’s waist as he carries you out of your living room. His strength has you feeling light as a feather, barely a nuisance as he searches out a place for his plans.

“The bedroom.” You motion to a half-opened door and Dieter’s knowing smile precludes entering.

“Eager, aren’t we? What if I wanted to lay you out for everyone to see?”

The image of your body laid bare, covered in moonlight and monstrous hands, flutters your eyes as the bedroom door shuts behind you.

“No, tonight you will remain in my confessional,” he says, kneeling down on the bed and letting you fall back into the mess of pillows and sheets.

“You’re very fond of religious metaphor,” you rib, rubbing your thighs together as Dieter sheds the robe and his Crocs, a brief moment of clarity bubbling a giggle up your throat. Dieter’s motions slow as he regards you again, kneeling between your legs.

“Maybe I am rather fond of…corruption,” he husks, the word lighting on your skin like sparks. “Maybe I like seeing you forsake all for me.”

If he asked, you just might. The high of his attention is so great.

“But in this moment, what I mean is we will speak no lies in this room.” His hands trail down your thighs, and now your body remembers it has no experience from here. You shake, heart pounding as Dieter crawls up your body with only brief brushes to guide his way. “My promise is that you will know pleasure as great as I can offer. And you will tell me everything you think, and feel.”

He hovers over your body, broad enough to block the paltry light through your window.

“Would you like to be pleasured?”

“Yes, Dieter, please.”

His smile is wicked, and the scrape of his fingernails up your ribcage arches your back. In a fluid slide of his fingers your shirt is over your head and tossed into darkness, leaving you bare-chested under him. He hums with appreciation as his face descends, curved nose dragging along your tender skin. Time hangs in the balance as you tense for what may come, but Dieter only traces dizzying paths with the tip of his nose and the fullness of his lips. Up one side of your ribs, placing kisses at intervals, then along the underside of your breast. His hot breath warms skin, nipples hardening sharp and sensitive at the scratch of his facial hair. Then down the center of your stomach, a long and cyclical detour around your bellybutton. Stomach trembling, he hushes you as his fingers slide under your waistband and bunch your sleep shorts and underwear in his hands.

Another fluid drag and you’re nude, still swimming in endorphins at Dieter’s skilled touch. It’s only when hot palms wrap around your knees and begin easing them apart do you balk. Instinctively you clamp your legs together, heat flooding your face. Dieter tuts, smoothing his hands up and down your jittery thighs.

“What are you afraid of, starlet?” he asks, ghosting his fingers over the apex of your sex. Just the brush against your mound steals your voice, that same hot shame and anxiety pulling you in on yourself. When you don’t answer, Dieter commands more firmly, “Look at me, sweetheart.”

Dragging your eyes from the ceiling back to him doesn’t help. He’s all mischievous eyes and knowing smiles, pressing a kiss to both of your knees as he rests his chin on them.

“I can make it easier for you,” he says, fingers finding a soft crease in your hip and stroking along it. “Give you something for the nerves, for any pain. I’ll only let you feel good here with me.”

You take two more grounding breaths and ease the pressure on your knees.

“”Sorry, I’m just…no one’s ever…” you say, but before you can explain your woeful inexperience he’s wedging his way between your legs and holding your thighs open in his firm tight grip.

“I’m the first to taste this forbidden fruit?” he asks, and you clench involuntarily. He waits as you gather yourself enough to nod. A deep, dark chuckle falls from his lips. “Starlet, you have no idea what you’re in for tonight.”

The question claws up your throat but no sooner has he glanced at your pussy he’s diving in to press his tongue deep and sweeping through your folds. The velvet slither arches your back off the bed, a strangled cry earning a satisfied hum between your legs.

“Holy shit, Dieter, oh my god,” you rasp as he flicks his tongue in fast swipes over your clit. It’s foreign and taboo, so much wetter and softer than your fingers and you can barely stop your hips from bucking into his mouth. One hand presses you down to the bed, his chin tilting up to catch your eye. Slick shines his mouth, and your pussy throbs when you realize his eyes are the shiny black of nightmares and creatures used to the dark.

“No god here, sweetheart. Only me. Only take my name in vain,” he growls, and the rush of blood in your ears speeds up when you realize the hand pressed on your abdomen spans the width of your hips. Black-tipped claws indent the flesh, prickling your skin just shy of pain. Dipping low again, Dieter swirls at your entrance and prods in, nose pressed tight to the button of your pleasure. The supple stretch is unfamiliar, pulling at a primal need to let him fill you. It tightens your thighs and shudders you against him as he forces you down again, the bite of claws a sharper warning. His jaw doesn’t stop, plunging and delving into you as deep as he can manage.

“Dieter, it’s never…oh fuck, it’s never felt this good before, please…please, I can’t stand it,” you beg, a rush of slick coating his tongue. Now a true snarl seeds your cunt, and in the charcoal dark his silhouette thickens, shoulders broadening under your knees. He pushes you further up the bed, pulling even greater cries from your chest. Dragging his tongue from your sopping hole, he sucks greedily on your clit, hands wrapped around your waist to lift you half off the bed. Suspended and flowing with arousal, your hands unclench from the sheets and circle his wrists. The skin is hot under your palms, and they dig deeper in at your scrabbling touch. It’s not enough, so with a boldness you pull from a dizzying depth you bury your fingers in his curls.

At first touch they’re soft. Long enough to wind around your fingers. You give a gentle tug and swear you feel a shudder around you. But as you bury them deeper another sensation tickles your palm. Something unyielding and curved, smooth like bone. Two protrusions fit in the webbing of your thumb and forefinger, short enough that the blunt tip brushes your knuckles. Horns, you think. A demon is eating me out and he has horns. And where you might have tried to wake yourself from a nightmare at this thought, instead you wrap your fingers around them and tug.

Like lightning something changes in Dieter. His lips tear from you with a roar that fills the room, your mind, spreading like forest fire and drying your mouth out. You hold on as he drops you back to the bed, the sound still ripping from his throat. Then there’s pain, supernova-like in intensity and scorching through arousal and fear. Your eyes snap down to Dieter’s mouth, but it’s no longer defiling your pussy. It’s clamped hard on your inner thigh, air puffing sharply through his nose. The pain radiates, and you realize he’s bit you. Not an overzealous love bite, you can feel the puncture of incisors and pump of blood into his mouth, the same pattern as your racing heart. Your hands release his horns, pushing you up as your mouth drops open in horror.

“Dieter,” you gasp, but with his horns released the pressure abates. His eyes open slowly, catching your terrified face. The curve of his brow morphs from surprise to apology to determination. Then a thumb presses firmly to your clit and circles it, washing pain away with pleasure teetering right on the edge. His fangs remain in your thigh as you stare at him, incredulity on your face but pleasure rocking your hips. He adds pressure to the bite again, speeding up his fingers as your brain struggles to differentiate one from the other.

Then, just as your spine begins tingling and your fingers go numb, one slick finger penetrates your cunt, smooth and deep, barely noticeable compared to the symphony of sensations. Like a reward, Dieter gives you the final stroke that crashes your orgasm over him, slamming you back to the bed as pain and pleasure and shame and exhilaration floods your brain. You barely register Dieter’s jaw releasing, fingers working you through your orgasm as the slow laps of his tongue lull you back to your body. Every muscle quivers, attempts to sit up failing twice before you manage to come up to your elbows.

Between your legs Dieter is pressing devotions to the spot he bit, open-mouthed kisses with peeks of tongue soothing the injury. His finger is still inside, a lazy caress of your walls foreign but not unpleasant. Finally he lifts up to his knees and turns his attention back to your face.

“I’m sorry, starlet, you got me a little too riled up there. I’ve fixed it, but you might be sore tomorrow.” A bloom of teeth circle your inner thigh, but no blood oozes out. You felt the pop, felt him inside you, and somehow he’s taken it back. “Can’t have you injured because of me, not very professional.”

“I hope it stays,” you pant, fingertips tracing the dark marks. The tenderness arcs down your spine.

“Fuck, you’re made for sin, starlet,” Dieter purrs, and now your attention can turn back to him. Grounding yourself with a healthy, “oh fuck,” is the only way you can fathom what he’s become.

He towers over you even kneeling, broad body only more tantalizing as he’s grown in stature. The well-known triangle tattoos you’d seen in paparazzi photos are joined by swirling patterns up and down his arms, concentric rings and text you can’t read patterning his skin. Where only wild curls were before now jut two smooth horns, curved away from his face and looking suspiciously similar to a goat’s. His skin almost steams in the room, wisps of smoke or condensation haloing his silhouette like an ominous aura.

Then his hand flexes again and you realize how full you are with just one finger inside, even observing how thick and wicked they’ve become.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, and there’s only a hint of teasing now as he works his finger inside.

“It’s…okay,” you gasp, staring at the place where you’re connected. His thumb ghosts over your clit again, but so soon after your high it’s over sensitive, making you hiss and tremble.

“Shhh, starlet, just relax. Thought it would be better to take advantage of the pain.” With a final stroke that lights up your nerves he slips out, holding his fingers up for you to see. They’re wet with your arousal and a little blood, a lot less than you thought. “Now that’s out of the way, we can take our time giving you the best fuck of your life.” With a knowing smile, he pops his fingers into his mouth and licks them clean.

“Fuck, you really are…an incubus,” you say, acquainting yourself with the dull ache of your loss. There isn’t much fanfare, no swelling of emotion. If anything, breaking your hymen is probably the least memorable part of your night. Dieter’s smile falters briefly, and in a dizzying turn of events he shrinks back, closing in on himself. Ducking his head, you might think he was embarrassed, or shy. It looks stranger than the horns on him.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Touching the horns got me a little too worked up. Let me open you up on my fingers for a little while longer, that’ll give me enough time to…change back.” His smile is sheepish now, hands roaming your thighs and stomach. Instead of the skin-crawling terror you thought that would instill, you’re practically preening under his touch.

“Is this you? This form?” you ask, and you let your boldness move to your hands. You stroke your fingertips over his, investigating the smoothness of his claws, how the joints of his fingers are more pronounced than yours. He scoffs an uncomfortable laugh.

“Uh yeah, mostly. But you’ll have a lot more fun bragging that you lost your virginity to THE Dieter Bravo,” he redirects, shaking his head like he’s annoyed he’s not that man yet.

In your brief and paltry handful of intimate moments, you never considered yourself bold. You’d let men touch you until your discomfort was too much, or your embarrassment pulled to the forefront. You never asked for the touches you enjoyed, or sought out the pleasures you dreamed of. But now, with a creature that’s endearingly vulnerable before you, your voice is finally strong enough to be heard.

“I’d like you to stay this way,” you say. Sitting up further, you skim your hands up his arms to cup his face. Your touch snarls his lip briefly before he settles.

“You can’t handle that, starlet. I’ve kept my human form reasonable, but you will not be able to take my cock,” Dieter husks. Tugging your wrist down to his waist, you palm him through fabric barely able to contain him. Thick and long in your hand, he drops his head and thrusts against you and gets bigger.

“Ruin me, then,” you whisper, filthy and naive into his ear. “I’ve waited all this time, saved myself for no one but you. Make me take no lover but you. Make me pray to you for ecstasy.” Leaning in to the metaphor rewards you. With a dangerous rumble he pushes you flat on your back, one hand wrapped around your throat.

“You want this, starlet? All of it?” he grits out, sickening cracks and pops echoing in the room. His hips force yours wide, planting his other hand by your head and carefully watching your face. The shine of his fangs whips your heart into a gallop, more ink dancing on his skin as he transforms from something beautiful to something magnificent. The room darkens perplexingly until you realize wings spread from his shoulders, thin light gleaming through the stretched web of skin. His aura crackles with molten motes, a whiff of fire and smoke making a home in your lungs. When he looks back at you, half familiar and half transcendent, his roguish smile brings one to your lips.

“Strange little thing, wet and ready for me,” he croons, removing his hand from your throat. A rip of stitching signals he’s as nude as you are now, and your eyes widen when the heavy length of his cock rests on your mound, curving past your navel and thicker than your hand can circle.

“Say you want Dieter Bravo back, and I’ll have just as much fun wrecking you in that form,” he says, but there’s something cautious between you now. A shimmer of anxiety and distrust. You’re holding a thread of something truer than he intended to give you, and if you drop it you’ll never find it again.

“Can you help me make it feel good?” you ask, sliding your palms along his chest. Without proper pupils it’s hard to track his expression, but you think it’s awestruck.

“Of course, starlet. You’ve learned to cum from pleasure and pain, but I won’t have you suffer more than necessary.” Dieter leans down and cups your head, bringing your nose to his neck right where it meets his shoulder. “Breathe,” he instructs, and you inhale deep. Below the smoke and heat you smell sweet new earth, lush and fruitful. It makes your mouth water, clutching at his shoulders as he begins rocking his hips against yours. His monstrous cock slips in the wet mess between your legs, slicking the underside generously.

“Fuck, you arousal is so delicious, I could taste you for centuries,” Dieter whispers. Lifting up, he smiles at your dazed expression and wandering hands. They trace his features, lingering on his lips. “How are you feeling now?”

You want him inside you, filling you up to bursting, to breaking. The need is hotter, all-encompassing. It’s surety that he won’t hurt you, that you’ll be shown pleasure beyond anything you’ve experienced. It’s lust but also trust.

“Can you kiss me?” is what you say, and Dieter’s smile is a touch softer before he leans down and claims your lips.

You swear you hear a hiss when he touches you, his skin scorching but not enough to burn. Parting his lips and nudging your jaw open, he traces the inside of your lower one with the tip of his tongue. One hand cups the back of your head, cradling you to his mouth, and with a forbidden thrill you realize his hands are now large enough that his fingertips caress the perimeter of your face. The threatening pressure of claws in your skin arcs arousal back in your cunt, winding your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he orders, and with a magnificent beat of bat wings his silhouette glows with dancing light much like a breath sparking fire to life. The warm hue of his human skin has gilded to gold, tattoos moving along the dips and peaks of his body. Eyes black and fathomless, his smile is a lifeboat in a raging ocean. He lets the heavy weight of his tongue wet his lower lip as your eyes widen, hefty cock lifting from your mound to press at your entrance. Scrabbling fear overtakes you, and you clutch at Dieter’s shoulders as the pressure mounts.

“Again, starlet,” he croons, but his voice is the rumbling of great stones moving over one another as you inhale deep of his scent. Cool water pours through your limbs, easing your muscles and letting your legs drop open wide. His other hand presses at your lower back and arches you off the bed, resting your thighs atop his own. Then, with a controlled push his head breaches you, wrenching a wrecked moan from deep in your chest. He stops as soon as he’s engulfed in your heat, the only betrayal of his own state residing in the long exhale of breath that tickles across your chest.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. Tell me if you need me to stop,” he grits out, but you shake your head and roll your hips. It’s sloppy, inexperienced, but he moves ever so slightly within you and it punches a groan from between Dieter’s clenched teeth.

“Please, Dieter, more,” you beg, his claws tightening around you again. Another measured advance, another wail, more snarling and groaning from the creature stuffing himself inside you. Whatever aphrodisiac he’s fed you is working magnificently. You’re full, the pressure intense, but the pain is dull and quiet. He’s watching where you’re joined so closely, stretched obscenely around his cock, waiting for your thighs to unclench before backing out and pressing deeper in.

“Touch your clit,” he gasps, “Rub that pretty clit so you can take all of me.”

Your fingers are nowhere as decadent as his tongue but they pull bursts of ecstasy close to the surface. Venturing a look down, you’re dismayed to see he’s barely halfway there, so much more of his pulsing cock still to take. He already feels like he’s in your stomach, battering against your lungs. Tears spring to your eyes, lower lip wobbling.

“It’s not going to work,” you whisper, and even with the knowledge that Dieter could turn human at any point you still wallow in the rejection you anticipate. Not good enough for anyone, not even the person you called for.

“Shhh,” Dieter soothes, easing you back down to the bed. He tugs over pillows to tuck under your hips before covering you with his body, still looking in your eyes even at his towering height. “Breathe. Do you want me to stop? I can let you rest, change back to my human form. If you can take all of this…” His hips twitch forward, a soft cry tumbling out. “...then you can take my human cock perfectly.” With a tenderness your eyes water for, he strokes his thumb along your cheek. “Do you want me to stop?”

It’s already so much, so intense and mind-blowing, but you can’t help yourself.

“I want all of it, Dieter,” you say, consequences be damned.

Much in the same way touching his horns unleashed something in Dieter, hearing those words unlocks something even more primal and greedy in his face. Dropping down to his elbows, he presses your face against his neck.

“Bite,” he orders, the word igniting every pleasure center in your body. “Hard, starlet, give me one as good as I gave you.” The words are barely out before you sink your teeth into the crook of his neck, but instead of blood or other ichor you’re flooded with pleasure. The sensation rips an orgasm out of you, hips bucking on his cock. You register Dieter pulling out to the tip before slamming his hips into yours, seating himself fully inside your throbbing cunt. You don’t know how your body makes room for him, how you’re not screaming (well, maybe screaming some), but he’s inside you and littering your body with, “oh fuck, oh fuuuuucks” as he swirls his hips.

“I did it,” you coo in pleasure-dipped delirium, head flopping back on a pillow as Dieter starts thrusting into you in slow passes.

“You sure fucking did sweetheart, look at that perfect pussy taking my monster cock,” he praises, now sliding along your clit with focus. The overstimulation rolls right into desire again as your cunt learns how to gorge itself on pleasure.

“It feels…good,” you say, bearing down on his thrusts to meet him with a little more force. He purrs in admiration, starting to speed up ever so slightly.

“Yeah? Like how good you feel all stuffed full?” Dieter asks but it’s nonsense now, his focus pulling between your face and his cock pumping in and out of you. There’s a little more pain now, places where his cock brushes that zip sharp up your spine, but it’s far from unpleasant. In fact, you might like it. Maybe really like it.

“More, Dieter. Want to feel you. Please,” you moan, restraint flickering in Dieter’s eyes.

“Fuck, baby, you can’t say shit like that when I’m so deep in you, I won’t be able to…” His thought falls off as his thrusts speed up, a little more force at the end each time. It’s kissing at something devastating inside, something clawing its way to the surface through years of shame and dread.

“Please Dieter, I’ll beg for it. I’ll…” Your brain wraps around a wicked idea. “I’ll pray for it.”

That does the trick. Dieter’s lips curl back in a snarl as he rears up to his knees, wings spreading to fill the room with only him. Hands gripping your hips, he looks down at you not like a lover, but like a fallen god.

“Then do it, starlet,” he challenges. His smile is cool, but his cock twitches in your cunt. You have him.

“Glory be to you, Dieter,” you say, and hellfire light erupts around him. Dragging himself out of your cunt, he holds tight as a bowstring.

“And to your…fucking massive cock,” you continue, eyes rolling back as he fills you to the brim. “And to your true form, in all its beauty,” you add, softer now, drawing his eyes back up to you. Time hangs as he studies your face before dipping down and sealing your lips with a kiss that means too much for words. When he lifts away you finish the prayer.

“As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be.”

Dieter’s smile glints.

“A-fucking-men,” he rasps, giving you just enough time to press your hands against the headboard before he starts railing you.

You’re lost in pleasure and ache and sin and Dieter pounding recklessly into your cunt. His grip paints bruises along your waist, battering thighs marking the inside of your hips. His claws dig into your flesh and sharp scrapes tighten your nipples. Hands roam up over your breasts, around your neck, pressing your wrists into the bed as ominous splintering and cracks echo in your ears.

“Another before I cum on your tits, sweetheart,” he pants, spitting down onto your clit and circling it with vigor. You cry out, hips bucking as the thickness of his cock impedes on your quivering walls. “It’s so close baby, just cum around me. Let me feel you cum on all my cock this time.”

“I can’t,” you cry out, shaking and sobbing around him. Dieter tuts, his rapidly increasing slap-slap-slap of thrusts maddening.

“You can, and you will starlet. You didn’t think you’d take my cock. I didn’t think you’d take it, and look at you now. So you’re going to cum. You’re going to cum now.”

The order shakes the room, pictures rattling on the wall as a final flick hurtles you off into oblivion with Dieter’s roaring triumph right behind. He’s somehow still fucking his cock into you even though you’re so tight it almost hurts to be cumming so good. A final crackling roar and you’re achingly empty, followed by a hot splash of cum across your stomach. Then another cresting your breast, and more and more until you’re covered in it, sticky trails sliding to pool in your bellybutton and drip over your sides onto the covers. Dieter is gasping above you, glowing like a sacred artifact as he pumps the last drops from his cock.

You close your eyes once and it’s a mistake. As soon as you let your eyelids touch exhaustion grips you, fighting your desperate attempts to reopen them. It’s battling this bone-deep tired when you experience Dieter’s return to a human form. The horns receding, tattoos fading to just the ones that grace tabloid pages. The wings fold away, and soon a sexy as hell rumpled and soft body replaces the supernatural one.

“Wore you out, starlet?” Dieter Bravo asks, kneeling between your parted knees with a rakish smile. You try to return it with a nod but your whole body is heavy, the mess barely bothering you. Dieter hums thoughtfully, and in a few moments a warm washcloth is cleaning up his cum.

“Side effect of my influence, helps a lot in the moment but it’s got some pretty strong sedative properties. Good for a speedy exit.” His chuckle sounds faraway now, even as you try to clutch at it.

“Stay,” you manage to croak out, hands seeking his body. You find his hair again, nose buried in your sex as he licks softly at your folds. The building ache there creeps back down to something dull and manageable.

“Our contract is up, can’t stay once you’ve given me what I’m owed.” Dieter’s lips start leaving small kisses along your abdomen, fingers soothing your skin. “Even if it was very, very good.”

“Please,” you try again, racking your rapidly puttying mind for anything to keep his hands on you.

“Even when you say it so sweetly,” Dieter says, but there’s melancholy now. It glances off your fingertips as sleep pulls you under.

In the between world of dreams, you think he says something more to you, but Morpheus snatches it away.

Hail, starlet, full of grace, Dieter is with thee.

This might be the silliest thing I’ve ever…well, hmm…

Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, all those delectable orgasms you gave me.

Holy starlet, bringer of…something special.

Pray for this sinner.

There’s blood on your sheets when you wake, though less than you expected. There’s also less pain, though the ache takes your breath away when you sit up too fast. Hobbling to the bathroom with the cool pink of morning light guiding, you inspect your body in the mirror.

You don’t look much different than before. Some strange notion of losing your virginity making you suddenly appear “mature” is dashed away. Maybe there’s a little glint of a secret in your eye, but not much more. Actually, surprisingly not much more. You expected bruises, scratches along your body and love bites marring your landscape. Instead your canvas is unblemished, no marks or injuries to hide. It’s almost as if he’d never been there.

Sitting down on the toilet, you wonder if maybe he wasn’t. That you dreamt up debauchery due to food poisoning or someone spiking the punch at the Halloween party. You couldn’t possibly have summoned an incubus.

A dark mark inside your thigh catches your attention, and any doubts dissipate. A ring of teeth, four larger fangs prominent, marrs the inside of your thigh. Brushing your fingertips over the circle, the skittering thrill of those memories settle in your chest.

You ride on the endorphins for a few days, a handful of people noticing. A work friend tries to interrogate you on it but “a lady never tells” is a saucy enough reply for her to give an approving look. You buy a new bed online, the base of yours splintered to ruin, but you keep the cracked headboard like a souvenir.

Online dating doesn’t seem as daunting now that you’re not so worried about the dreaded “first time.” You even accept a few dates, meet some generally nice men with generally boring personalities. They don’t make your heart race like a certain celebrity whose name you googled briefly before slamming your laptop shut. They certainly don’t kiss like him, or make sexy little jokes or terrify you as much as intrigue you.

So for a while you try to move on. There’s no other option, right? Dieter Bravo the Movie Star would never give you a second thought. Dieter Bravo the Incubus surely has better things to do, more lascivious living. So you try to find something even remotely like what you felt that night.

It’s mid-November when you find yourself sitting on your living room floor again, piece of chalk in hand. You lit candles this time, bought black lace lingerie, made yourself up to feel pretty. It doesn’t help your shaking hands as you pull the rug off the summoning circle. Touching up a few spots, you settle by the broken line where you released Dieter. It all popped off when you completed the circle last time, so with a deep breath and a swipe of the chalk, you reconnect the chalk.

And you wait.

And wait.

A bulb in a lamp flickers but it’s brief. An errant breeze almost snuffs out a candle. But nothing happens. Your knees are sore, eyes watering but you blink the tears away.

It was a long shot, you have to admit. A fluke chance, never to be repeated. You’ll have to settle for something bland, safe, loving but…

Nothing like Dieter.

You’re about to get up from the floor when one other idea tempts you. Something you thought he might have said before leaving you ruined.

Pray for this sinner.

Clasping your hands in your lap, you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

It’s been a long time since you last prayed.

“Dieter…” you whisper. The fine hairs on your neck rise up, but you press on.

“Dieter, I pray to thee,” you continue, closing your eyes. “Come to me in my hour of need.”

A pause, then a final entreaty. “Please.”

A rumble creeps into your body, tiny puffs of candles snuffing out reaching your ears. You dare not open your eyes yet, too hopeful for disappointment. Instead you wait, and hope.

A hot hand, thick fingered and human, slides up your chest, over your throat and cups your chin. Relief floods your body, melting back against a solid chest and chuckling lips.

“Hello, starlet,” Dieter croons in your ear, wrapping his arm around your waist and tucking his head into the crook of your neck. Your fingers search for curls, burying in his hair as you lace your fingers with his.

“You came,” you breathe, sparks igniting on your skin as he presses a line of kisses from your shoulder to your ear.

“How could I not, when you prayed so sweetly?” he teases, tugging you back to sit in the cradle of his crossed legs. “Smart of you to try the circle, but outside of all hallow’s eve you don’t have access to enough power for that trick.”

“But you came,” you repeat, turning your face into Dieter’s ministrations. He nips at the side of your jaw, soothing it with his lips before murmuring a confession into your skin.

“I hoped you would call again.”

A thick emotion swells in your chest, and you spin in his grasp to crash your mouths together. The momentum knocks him backwards to the floor, letting you straddle his waist and feast on his ample lips. His hands roam your back, reverent in their paths. When you break to suck in lungfuls of sweet air he leans up to mouth at your neck, possessive hand on your ass urging you to grind against him.

“Have you let anyone else fuck you?” he growls. To your delight the anxiety and trepidation that colored your first encounter is nowhere in sight. You smile wolfishly down at him.

“How could I? You’ve ruined me for any man,” you tease, and under your body he writhes, the whites of his eyes trading for inky black. “Plus, one time is hardly enough to know if I even like sex. I’ve barely begun to explore.”

The fangs flash between his kiss-swollen lips, and under the promise of any delight you desire you glimpse the even more exciting fondness that will draw you back to him again and again.

“Then we have a lot of work to do.”

END

Crawlin' back to you Ever thought of callin' when You've had a few? 'Cause I always do Maybe I'm too Busy bein' yours To fall for somebody new Now, I've thought it through

The Arctic Monkeys, "Do I Wanna Know?"

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osped · 7 months

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The Flower of the North

Chapter Fifteen: My Dearest Friend

Series masterlist

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Stark!Reader

Chapter Summary: Y/N's best friend Margaery Tyrell arrives in Dorne, and the two have so much to catch up on.

Word Count: 2.8k

Chapter Warnings: Flirting, masturbation (male); mentions of female masturbation, homophobia, and periods.

Series Rating: Explicit (18+)

Tag List: @scarlet-prey @local-mr-frog @hiroikegawa , @soko222 , @ephemeralsunny , @christinamadsen , @underthechemtrails, @targaryenmoony , @harriedandharassed , @laura-naruto-fan1998 , @mybworlds , @omgsuperstarg, @msmorningstaarr

Before You Begin...Here is the new chapter! It's very short but it's important because Y/N's bff Margaery finally enters the picture. I will give you a head's up that there isn't a whole lot of Oberyn in this one, but I can promise you next chapter will be a big one for him and Y/N and he will be in it A LOT. Now without further ado...

As Y/N was waking up, she had completely forgotten about what she did last night. It wasn't until she looked down to see that her pussy was still exposed that it all came back. I'm going to burn in the seven hells, she thought to herself.

A knock came at the door. It was Dalia coming to dress her for the day. Y/N pulled her nightgown down so she was now covered up and tucked herself into the sheets. She couldn't let anyone know what she had been doing. She had to get rid of any sign she was pleasuring herself last night.

Y/N called for her handmaiden to come in. Dalia opened the door and she two greeted each other. "How was your day off?" Y/N asked as she sat up.

"Quite alright," Dalia said as she closed the door behind her. "How was your training with the prince? There are rumors going around that you beat him in a fight."

Y/N chuckled at the memory. "I did. Not to brag or anything..."

"You beat the Red Viper himself! You deserve to brag about it."

All Y/N could think about was how she had touched herself to the thought of him last night. And made herself come for the first time.

After she combed Y/N's hair, Dalia asked her what dress she would like to wear today. At first she was about to say it didn't matter, but then the Stark girl got an idea:

"How about that indigo one?" Y/N suggested. "The one that is two pieces."

"You haven't worn that one yet," Dalia observed.

"I know," Y/N replied. "I figured I would try to put it to good use."

Soon after her arrival, the Dornish royal clothes makers designed and sewed several dresses and gowns for Y/N. Some showed a bit too much skin, whether be cleavage or her stomach. She opted to not wear those. Y/N had grown up in the North where it was much more conservative. Women were told that showing off a lot of skin was a bad thing. Thus leading to Y/N to become insecure about that.

But she decided that since she was in Dorne, now it would be a good time to conquer that fear. And it might be nice if she managed to send a certain Dornish prince into a frenzy over it.

When she finally put the dress on, it was strange to Y/N. It felt weird to have her stomach stick out at all for anyone to see.

"Are you having second thoughts, my lady?" Dalia asked. "I can get you a diff---"

"Oh no, Dalia," Y/N quickly assured her handmaiden. "It will do just fine."

**********

Y/N was wondering which Martell family member would see her first. She was hoping it would be Oberyn, but who would have known?

Weirdly enough, she did not run into any of the Martells in the hallway. She must have been the last one up.

But then, when she got into the dining room, none of them were there. Not a single one. Were they still asleep? Did they all decide they wanted to eat breakfast in bed?

It wasn't until she heard a voice clear behind her. She turned around to see it was Dalia. She said, "I apologize, my lady, but I neglected to tell you that the Martells said they wanted you to come to the gardens. They have a surprise for you."

Y/N's eyes narrowed. "A surprise? For me?" Then Y/N remembered that her name day was coming up. Did her mother tell the Martells about that and to plan a present for her?

She walked to the gardens where she saw the entire Martell family, from Prince Doran to little Loreza, were standing crowded together. Of course, Y/N looked for her favorite member of the family. Sure enough she saw him there, and she did not miss how Oberyn raked his eyes up and down her figure. I reached my goal. He likes my dress.

"Hello," Y/N said to the family. "I heard something about a surprise for---"

The family parted in the middle to reveal the surprise. And it was a very good surprise.

"Margaery?" Y/N was relieved to see her best friend standing there but still couldn't quite believe it.

But her best friend was indeed standing there. Her brown hair pulled back. She looked beautiful as always, wearing a low cut pale green dress and a warm smile on her face.

The two girls squealed in delight. Y/N ran right into her best friend's arms. They gave each other the biggest hug imaginable.

"I missed you so much!" both girls exclaimed at the exact same time. They giggled at this. They always had a habit of saying things in perfect unison.

The girls stopped hugging but Y/N clasped both her hands in Margaery's and asked, "What are you doing here? Don't get me wrong I'm glad to see you, but---"

"Well, I happened to see your mother," Margaery explained. "And she suggested that it would benefit you to see a familiar face."

"You saw my mother?" Y/N asked in surprise. "How...and shouldn't you be with your husband?"

"Oh. You haven't heard?" Margaery asked. "We have so much to catch up on." Y/N noticed that her best friend had said this with sadness in her voice. Did something bad happen to Renly?

Y/N turned to the Martells and thanked them for allowing Margaery to stay. She liked them very much, but it was so good to see her best friend.

Then, the two friends walked off hand-in-hand. But Y/N stopped when a hand was placed on the shoulder. She had a feeling it was Oberyn's hand. This was confirmed when she heard his voice whisper in her ear, "That's a beautiful dress you have on, little wolf. It's perfect for you."

Y/N looked up to see Oberyn smirking down at her. All Y/N could say was, "Thank you, my darling prince." She whispered it so only Oberyn could hear.

Y/N had been thinking about how Oberyn said that she never came up with a nickname for him. He had so many for her. Little girl. Sweet girl. Little wolf. But she didn't have any for him. So she decided to try a term of endearment and see how he would respond.

And from the look on Oberyn's face, he seemed to like it.

As Y/N and Margaery walked off, the Stark girl noticed that the Tyrell girl was smirking at her. It was funny how both her best friend and the object of her desires both smirked quite a lot.

"What?" Y/N pretended to play dumb.

"You seem to get along quite well with your betrothed's uncle," Margaery pointed out.

Though Y/N knew she could talk to Margaery about anything, she brushed it off. "He's just a friend. And he did offer me a chance to come here so I could explore. So I owe him quite a bit. But it's purely just a kinship between us."

"Then why are you blushing?"

"A Northern girl like me is not used to the Dornish sun."

"If you say so," Margaery nodded her head. But she did not believe her friend at all.

**********

Y/N sat with her best friend in the gardens. Penny had joined them and Margaery had taken a liking to the direwolf.

"She's beautiful," she said, petting the wolf's fur. "And so soft."

"She's a rarity, too," Y/N said. "She and her brothers and sisters are most likely the last of their kind."

Margaery nodded and looked up at Y/N, though her hand never left Penny's back.

"Do they know who murdered him?" Y/N asked. Margaery had just told her friend of how her husband, Renly, was now dead. She was a widow before they even consummated the marriage. Apparently Y/N's mother had been there to make an alliance with him, but it was never made official.

"No," Margaery said. "They believe it was a woman who served in his Kingsguard, but Loras insists it was---"

"A woman?" Y/N asked, astonished. It was unheard of for a woman to be a knight.

"Yes," Margaery replied. "Loras insists that it was his older brother Stannis that had something to do with it."

"Well, either way," Y/N said, "poor, dear Loras."

She meant it. Y/N would never admit this to anyone else, but she found it rather stupid that Renly would try to claim the throne. Even if Cersei's children weren't actually Robert's, they were still his children legally. And if all of them died, it would go to Stannis, being the second brother. Renly was far down in the line of succession and was the least likely to become king.

But that still didn't change the fact it was tragic. Y/N barely knew Renly, and besides being an idiot, he seemed like a decent man. And the most important thing was he made Loras happy. Y/N always hoped that he would find someone to love, especially in a world that was not tolerant of homosexuals. But it seemed like Loras had found his special someone. Until that was all taken away.

War really was a horrible thing.

"How is he doing?" Y/N asked.

"He's devastated," Margaery said. "He's now at Highgarden, mourning." Y/N's heart broke at this.

"And how about you?" Y/N asked. "How are you doing?"

Margaery shrugged, "Well, not too many women can say they were widowed at my age. And for so short a time."

"Well, you and Renly may have had the quickest marriage in history," Y/N pointed out. "You should be proud for such a title." She figured that they needed to laugh after all of this heavy talk. Margaery let out a light chuckle, appreciative of her friend being able to make her smile.

"Anyway," Margaery decided to change the mood. "I've missed you so much. And now I can't believe that you're going to be married." Y/N nodded. "Quentyn is very handsome, too. And he seems very kind." Y/N nodded once again. She didn't need to say a word. Margaery knew exactly what her best friend was thinking.

"But you prefer his uncle."

Y/N was caught off guard by Margaery's accusation. Her very true accusation. Y/N looked to see her best friend giving her a knowing look.

"You don't know that," Y/N tried to deny it.

"Y/N, I've known you since we were seven. I think by now I should be able to tell when you have feelings for someone."

Y/N seriously thought about just lying again. Insisting that she and Oberyn were platonic. But Y/N realized that she hadn't really talked to anyone about this yet. She hadn't talked to anyone about her growing feelings for the prince.

And Margaery would be the perfect person to talk to about it. Since they were little, she was always the person she would talk to about her problems with being a woman.

Y/N could remember that she bled for the very first time when she was at Highgarden. Margaery was the person she went to. Y/N was terrified to ask a grown woman who wasn't her mother for help, but Margaery assured her that Lady Tyrell would be helpful.

Y/N could remember all of the times when Sansa and Arya, being her little sisters, would get on her nerves. She remembered a very specific time when Sansa called Y/N's embroidery "a horrid sight." Or when Arya ruined Y/N's favorite cloak by placing it down on the mud to walk across. When Y/N lost her temper with both of her sisters, she wrote letters to Margaery for advice on how to make it up to them.

It was all of these memories that caused Y/N to admit, "Fine, I like him very much." She still sounded ashamed by it, as if she was committing a horrible sin.

"You shouldn't feel guilty about it," Margaery assured her. "He's very handsome. And from what I've heard he's very experienced."

"Yes," Y/N said. "But I'm engaged to his nephew."

"Then why don't you just marry Prince Oberyn instead?"

"What?" Y/N asked in shock.

"Why not? You'd still be marrying within the family, just a different member. Maybe you could ask Prince Doran about it."

Y/N was about to agree to this, until she remembered: "But my family."

"What about them?" Margaery asked in curiosity.

"What would they think of him? What would they think about me marrying a man who has a reputation for sleeping around with both men and women? And a man with eight daughters out of wedlock? Those things might be common in Dorne, but they frown down upon it in the North."

"Your family isn't the rest of the North," Margaery said. "If you really want to marry him, they may support you. And even if they don't, being married Quentyn wouldn't be awful."

It's not that Quentyn is an awful person. It's just that he's not Oberyn.

"He is kind," Y/N said. "Though he is a bit too boring."

"At least he doesn't prefer your brother's company over your own." Both girls lightly chuckled at this.

"Remember when we were little and we would talk about what our ideal husband would be like?" Y/N asked.

"Yes," Margaery said. "Back when we thought everything was going to be so easy."

"Childhood. Such simpler times."

**********

First, she had showed up wearing an outfit that showed more skin than usual. Then, she called him, "my darling prince." Oberyn thought about leading Y/N away, taking her to a private spot in the gardens, and kissing her. He didn't give a fuck about the game they were playing at this point. The only thing that had stopped him from doing so was that he knew it was important for Y/N to catch up with her dear friend.

Instead, he just went up to his chambers and pulled down his trousers. He began stroking his cock. This wasn't the first time he had touched himself to the thought of Y/N Stark before. The most recent was last night. He considered just walking to her room and asking her if she wanted him to pleasure her. But he had made a promise to himself that she would be in the one to decide when they time was right for them to go beyond flirting.

As he moved his hand up and down his cock, Oberyn's mind filled with dirty thoughts about Y/N. About how she would look sucking his cock. Or pumping it in her own hand. He thought about kissing her soft lips and playing with her clit. He thought about her calling him "my darling prince" over and over again. Or even just "my darling."

When Oberyn had finally finished satisfying himself, he quickly tucked his cock back into his pants. Just as he stepped out the door, he saw Margaery Tyrell wandering down the hall. It was as if she was looking for someone.

"Lady Margaery?" he asked.

Margaery looked at Oberyn. "Hello, Prince Oberyn. I was actually looking for you."

"Oh?" Oberyn asked in curiosity. He made his way closer to the young woman. "Is there something wrong?"

"Oh, no, not at all," Margaery quickly replied. "Quite the opposite, actually. As I'm certain you know, Y/N's name day is coming up soon."

"Yes," Oberyn nodded his head. He remembered Y/N mentioning it.

"Well," Margaery explained, "I wanted to talk to you, and the rest of the family, about perhaps celebrating her name day. Whether be dinner or a ball I'm not certain. But I want to do something special. I think she will be sad about not being in Winterfell for her name day and I want to lift her spirits just a little bit."

Oberyn brightened up at this. He had a feeling something like this would make Y/N very happy. And he loved to see her happy.

"I think that's a wonderful idea," Oberyn agreed.

"You do?" Margaery said in excitement. "Oh, thank you, Prince Oberyn! Will you help me plan it?"

"I'd love to," Oberyn nodded his head.

He was already starting to think about ideas for gifts.

NEXT CHAPTER - COMING SOON

Closing Remarks...Funny story: so this week I had to write a short paper on Anne Boleyn as part of my big final project for my class. And this week I'm writing a chapter featuring Margaery Tyrell. Margaery's actress Natalie Dormer played Anne Boleyn on the TV show The Tudors (which is a really good show and I would highly recommend if you're looking for something to watch). So Natalie Dormer has been at the forefront of my mind for the past week lol.

Anyway, hope you liked the chapter. Next chapter will be Y/N's name day and like I said, it will be a big chapter for her Oberyn. Ain't gonna say what happens... We will also get a POV from a Stark kid. Not Robb, but one of the other ones...

Please let me know what you think. Send in your questions & comments either in the comments section or my inbox. I'd love to chat! All rude comments towards the story, the people who like this story, or me will be deleted. If you don't like it, then don't read. Don't forget to reblog and follow me @princessanglophile for updates on this story and other content. And if you want to be added to the tag list, let me know. Have a lovely day everybody!

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osped · 7 months

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so besties...

Marcus is a man who only had crumbles of affection when he was dating Teresa, she did the bare minimum and that was all he settled for, so when he started dating you, he was still used to only having crumbles so when you showered him in affection he was so surprised, a little shocked even, well, he wanted that, but he just assumed he would make all the effort again, but he was so wrong, having you just showing to him how much he meant to you, was a whole other level

And then, when you two got all snuggled up on the couch, Marcus liked movies, he liked classic ones and he wanted you to see them, but he didn't want to be pushy or annoying and it sucked when Teresa wouldn't even pretend she was interested, just reading stupid magazines and not paying attention at all, you on the other hand, just dropped everything you were doing to watch movies with him, resting your body against his, entwining your fingers together and kissing his hand gently, to remind him how much you loved and spending time with him ❣️

(ignore her ugly face, that's you on the gif)

65 notes · View notes

osped · 7 months

Text

MoonKnight/Moon Boys System Masterlist (last updated 8/23/23)

● ° • ❥✂︎ Symbols ❥✂︎• ° ●

💕= romantic 👥 = platonic 🔞 = 18+ content 💧= angst 🍼= baby/parenting involved

📝 = one shot ⚡️ = preference/scenario

🗣 = requested

● ° •HC/Scenarios/Preferences • ° ●

Steven Grant Centric 📖

Steven with/being asked out by a Confident!Reader 💕🗣

Reader with Hyper Feminine Decor 💕🗣

Marc Spector Centric 🩹

-Nothing yet, feel free to request

Jake Lockley Centric🔪

Road Trip HC 💕🗣

Reader with Hyper Feminine Decor 💕🗣

###

All Moon Boys 🌒🌕🌘

Moon Boys w/ a Influencer!Reader💕🗣

Moon Boys w/ a Plus Size/chubby!Reader 💕🗣

Moon Boys w/ Reader who’s on their Period 💕

Reaction to Reader crying at the end of a Movie 💕

Helping Calm Down an Overstimulated autistic!Reader 💕🗣

Tall Reader 💕🗣

Reaction to Reader Coming Home after a Night of Drinking 💕🗣

Reader who Gives Physical Affection and is slightly Clingy 💕🗣

Squeamish Reader 💕🗣

Clumsy Reader 💕🗣

Partner who Wears Dark Clothing 💕🗣

Selective Mute Reader 💕🗣

Reader with tattoos 💕🗣

Reader with Nipple Piercings 💕🔞🗣

Trans reader 💕

Moon Dads 💕 🍼 Additional Content

Ghost Reader 👥🗣

Game Dev reader 💕🗣

Reaction to Reader wanting to have a Second Child with Them 💕🗣🍼

MoonDads doing “Dad Things” 💕🍼

Goth Reader 💕

Moon Boys with a Vulgar Reader 💕🗣

Moon Boys with a Reader who Smokes Weed 💕🗣

###

● ° •One Shots • ° ●

Catfight 🔪💕📝

The Sticky Note Game 📖🩹🔪💕

Parking Lot 🔪💕📝🗣

Your Drawings Look like Heaven to Me 📖💕🗣

Plus One makes a Sour One 🩹💕

Lady Problems 🩹💕

Roll for Stealth with Advantage 📖💕

All Over Your Face 📖💕

Candy 🔪💕🔞

Good Smells 🩹💕

Made with Love 📖💕

Unexpected Addition 🔪📖💕🗣

Point of View 🩹💕

Post-Nap Lunch 💕🩹🍼

###

● ° •Blurbs • ° ●

Peacock Spiders 📖💕

Test Reader 📖🩹🔪💕🗣

Playing House 🔪💕💧

Plant Dads 📖🩹🔪💕🗣

You Spin Me Round 📖💕

Triplets?! 📝

Playing with (goth) Makeup 🔪💕

Witch Reader 💕📖🗣

Date Night 💕📖

67 notes · View notes

osped · 7 months

Text

MoonKnight/Moon Boys System Masterlist (last updated 8/23/23)

● ° • ❥✂︎ Symbols ❥✂︎• ° ●

💕= romantic 👥 = platonic 🔞 = 18+ content 💧= angst 🍼= baby/parenting involved

📝 = one shot ⚡️ = preference/scenario

🗣 = requested

● ° •HC/Scenarios/Preferences • ° ●

Steven Grant Centric 📖

Steven with/being asked out by a Confident!Reader 💕🗣

Reader with Hyper Feminine Decor 💕🗣

Marc Spector Centric 🩹

-Nothing yet, feel free to request

Jake Lockley Centric🔪

Road Trip HC 💕🗣

Reader with Hyper Feminine Decor 💕🗣

###

All Moon Boys 🌒🌕🌘

Moon Boys w/ a Influencer!Reader💕🗣

Moon Boys w/ a Plus Size/chubby!Reader 💕🗣

Moon Boys w/ Reader who’s on their Period 💕

Reaction to Reader crying at the end of a Movie 💕

Helping Calm Down an Overstimulated autistic!Reader 💕🗣

Tall Reader 💕🗣

Reaction to Reader Coming Home after a Night of Drinking 💕🗣

Reader who Gives Physical Affection and is slightly Clingy 💕🗣

Squeamish Reader 💕🗣

Clumsy Reader 💕🗣

Partner who Wears Dark Clothing 💕🗣

Selective Mute Reader 💕🗣

Reader with tattoos 💕🗣

Reader with Nipple Piercings 💕🔞🗣

Trans reader 💕

Moon Dads 💕 🍼 Additional Content

Ghost Reader 👥🗣

Game Dev reader 💕🗣

Reaction to Reader wanting to have a Second Child with Them 💕🗣🍼

MoonDads doing “Dad Things” 💕🍼

Goth Reader 💕

Moon Boys with a Vulgar Reader 💕🗣

Moon Boys with a Reader who Smokes Weed 💕🗣

###

● ° •One Shots • ° ●

Catfight 🔪💕📝

The Sticky Note Game 📖🩹🔪💕

Parking Lot 🔪💕📝🗣

Your Drawings Look like Heaven to Me 📖💕🗣

Plus One makes a Sour One 🩹💕

Lady Problems 🩹💕

Roll for Stealth with Advantage 📖💕

All Over Your Face 📖💕

Candy 🔪💕🔞

Good Smells 🩹💕

Made with Love 📖💕

Unexpected Addition 🔪📖💕🗣

Point of View 🩹💕

Post-Nap Lunch 💕🩹🍼

###

● ° •Blurbs • ° ●

Peacock Spiders 📖💕

Test Reader 📖🩹🔪💕🗣

Playing House 🔪💕💧

Plant Dads 📖🩹🔪💕🗣

You Spin Me Round 📖💕

Triplets?! 📝

Playing with (goth) Makeup 🔪💕

Witch Reader 💕📖🗣

Date Night 💕📖

67 notes · View notes

osped · 7 months

Text

Happiness Deserved- Chapter 1- The Break

Summary: After a year of settling into a life with Santiago Garcia, he breaks your heart. (~1,500 words)

Warnings: Angst. Language.

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

You heard the front door slam shut. So hard it rattled the lamp on your desk. Santiago was in a mood. His heavy footsteps came up the stairs.

“Hey,” you said, “I just have a couple of invoices to send out and we can head to dinner.”

He leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. His dark eyes bored into you.

“What?” You said. You hit send and pushed back from your desk. He looked angry, but his resting face had always been pretty intimidating so it was difficult to tell sometimes.

“What are you in this for?” He said, calm but deadly.

“In what? What?” You shook your head, confused. “Starting a conversation in the middle is more of my verbal tic than yours. You want to fill me in?”

He gestured his hand between you two. “This.”

“Um, this relationship? I’m here for you. I’m always here for you. Are you okay?”

His gaze was cold and assessing. “Just for me. Nothing else.”

I stretched your arms above your head. “Well, I wouldn’t call it nothing. We spend what feels like a good sixty percent of our time doing it.”

“Not that. The money.”

“What money?”

He stood up and walked closer. His stance was aggressive. “From the job.”

You hated to even think of that job. It had never been worth it, not in your eyes. It had almost cost you your sanity, waiting around like that for the people you loved.

You push all of that aside and try to work out what Santiago might be saying. “The job? I had nothing to do with it.”

“I know that. Do you know that?” Santiago’s eyes were pinned on you. His jaw was tight.

It felt like he was setting a trap, conducting an interrogation. But since you didn’t know what this was about, you were flying blind.

You smiled at him, trying to diffuse whatever this was. “You’re angry. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“Do you want to go first?”

You felt panic start to rise out of your gut and into your throat. He hadn’t started in the middle of a conversation. He’d dropped you into a fight. You were clearly on different sides, but you still had no idea why.

“I-I don’t know what’s wrong,” you said. “It feels like you’re mad at me, but everything was fine this morning.”

He leaned down on your desk and you felt something you’d never felt before for Santiago. Fear. He looked at you like he didn’t recognize you. Like he hated you.

“You’ve been transferring thousands of dollars out of my account every month that we’ve been together,” he said.

“No.”

“You linked our accounts. You set up the transaction. It’s happens at the same time the money is being transferred from off shore to my banks here. You probably hoped I never noticed.”

He leaned in a touch more, but you held your ground. He finally backed off and started pacing. That, at least, was familiar.

“That whole thing with your money is a mess,” you said. “It has to be a maze or the IRS might get suspicious where you got about twenty million dollars from suddenly. It has nothing to do with me.”

He shook his head. “You have all of my account information.”

“I have never as much as touched your computer. How would I have gotten your banking info?”

“You’re smart enough to figure it out. And it’s in the will I gave you. In case anything ever happened to me. Maybe that was your Plan B?”

You sat back in your chair. “Okay, you need to stop accusing me of something you have no proof of. Remember who you’re talking to.”

He stopped pacing and looked at you, his eyes cold. “Who?”

You lost your breath. It caught in your throat like you’d swallowed a thorn.

He put his hands on his hips. “I’d heard a lot of things about you before we met. Benny told me you’d set yourself straight. Turned out you were just looking for a fresh mark.”

It stung that he would bring up your past, all those years you’d run wild looking for something you couldn’t even put into words. You knew he’d done the same before he joined the Army, searching for the same things.

“Benny would never have said any such thing,” you said. “I’ve always been honest you. We’re not bringing up relationship histories because you definitely have gigantic piles of skeletons buried behind the house. We agreed none of that mattered anymore.”

You saw his face go from restrained anger to just anger. You’d seen it before, once, when you’d visited him and the guys in Europe. They’d come back from a mission that had gone completely sideways. Someone they’d been forced to rely on had been a dumb ass and hadn’t stuck to the plan. Santiago would’ve beaten the shit out of the guy if Benny, Will, and Frankie hadn’t basically locked him in the house all night.

You hadn’t helped because you weren’t physically strong enough. Plus, the dumb ass had deserved what he’d had coming to him.

Santiago hadn’t had much of a temper lately. He’d mellowed since retiring. He’d let himself mellow. It had been a joy to watch.

Now, you saw him working over every negative thought in his brain. You knew he spiraled when he got angry. You saw his body go completely tense, even his fingers were curled tightly over his biceps when he folded his arms again.

He relaxed his jaw enough to speak. “You’re going to transfer the money back. You’re going to get all of your shit out of my house. You’re leaving today.”

You ran your fingers over your eyes. Like you could wake yourself up. “I don’t- just listen. Please.”

“I’m not interested in a fucking apology.”

“You’re not fucking getting one because I didn’t do anything wrong. Stealing from you doesn’t even make sense. If I needed money, I’d just ask. We’ve been together for a year. What made you think that I would do this to you?”

He laughed. “You won’t even fucking admit it. Fine. Show me your bank accounts.”

He walked around the desk faster than you could get away.

“You’re acting insane,” you said.

“I feel insane. I thought I knew you. Show me. Now.” He leaned in, his head next to yours.

The lick of fear you’d felt before had been nothing. This was terrifying. Not that he’d hurt you, but he really believed everything he was saying.

Without thinking, you logged into your bank accounts. “Here. Checking, brokered accounts. These are my retirement accounts. There’s nothing there. You need to tell me why you think I’ve been stealing from you.”

He was already reaching past you to the keyboard. He went to another site and typed in the login information without hesitating. “What about this one?”

You looked up at him, but he didn’t look back. You didn’t recognize the website, but you did recognize the account holder. You blinked at the information. “That bank isn’t even American. It looks like an offshore account. In my name. I have no idea what this is.”

“Almost a million dollars there. You still want to play stupid?”

“I’ve never seen this.” You clicked through the tabs on the website. He was right. There was a lot of money in there. And it was all in your name. “It looks like something you or one of the guys set up to help clean your money after the job. But this money never transfers out. I didn’t set this up.”

“That account number that it’s coming from. What’s that?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s one of mine.”

You took your hands off of the keyboard. You tried to breathe, but stopped when it started to feel like hyperventilating. “We both need to calm down. We can figure this out.”

“I’ve figured it out,” he said brushed past you to use the computer.

“There. I transferred it back myself. While I change the passwords on every fucking account I have, you can pack up.”

“Santiago, you know me better than this. We trust each other. You have to trust me. Maybe Benny or Will knows what’s going on.”

“Why don’t you call Frankie while you’re at it? Are you fucking the three of them too and doing the same thing?” His brown eyes, usually warm and loving had become cold and sharp.

His words sunk into your brain like anesthesia. That he would think you would betray him like that, or be like that with men you considered your brothers. You didn’t know words could hurt like that.

Your body got up and walked out of the room. A part of your brain willed yourself to look at him, to get him to work with you instead of against you. But your body walked out. It barely blinked. It just packed up your shit and left.

110 notes · View notes

osped · 7 months

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This is the Masterlist for my story "With You"

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9a Part 9b Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Part 16: Conclusion

My Masterlist

1K notes · View notes

osped · 7 months

Note

2. Which Moon Boy texts you most often, like the most texts?

I know we think it's Steven. It probably is.

But Steven likes a good ol fashioned phone call too. He loves to hear your voice, especially since his whole existence has been so confusing.

Marc is a texter. And he's blunt. There are a lot of periods and no emojis. At first, you're like, are you mad or something?

He's like huh, no, babe, I thought your joke was hilarious.

And you're like, Marc, you responded with, "Ha ha."

Jake will text you logistics - you're safe, he's safe, but other than that, he's going to come right home to you and talk in person. He won't worry you while he's out at night, but asap, he's back in your arms.

303 notes · View notes

osped · 7 months

Text

Triple Frontier Boys and Love Languages

Santiago Garcia x reader William Miller x reader Benjamin Miller x reader Francisco Morales x reader

Summary: A series of one shots of the TF boys. Each fic is a different love language and within each fic is 4 of the non-T*m's. Within each of the boys is two scenarios; one where the boys express their love to you, one where you express your love to your boy in question. Each scario is it's own thing, unless it expressly states a lead in. It is not a poly relationship, but you can potentially string many of them together. 8 paragraphs per fic, 40 in total. Some have smut,s ome don't. Hope you enjoy!

P.s. these are all old but I wanted to compile them into one masterlist

Love Langauges: Acts of Service

Love Languages: Physical Touch

Love Languages: Words of Affirmation

Love Languages: Quality Time

Love Languages: Gift Giving

Feel free to share other scenes, ideas, or thoughts!

75 notes · View notes

osped · 7 months

Text

Marcus pike does not like horror movies.

Now don't get me wrong. He loves October. He loves halloween. Sitting out on his porch in an affordable (but still high quality) costume with a bowl of candy and remarking on all the very sparkly princesses and scary skeletons that make their way up to his house all night is one of his favorite nights of the whole year. But he doesn't enjoy the gorey side of halloween. He's more than happy to find himself on the couch on a saturday night and watch seasonal film about witches and spells- but nothing with explicit gore that makes him jump and double check the shadow at the end of the hall later that night.

"Real life is terrifying enough in my opinion. I don't need to add to it on my time off."

That is, until he met you.

When you tell him on your first date that you love halloween he all but beams. But the confession is then paired with a shy smile as you admit you enjoy the macarbe just as much as the softer side of the holiday.

"I'm a bit of a horror buff, honestly."

That's when his smile threatens to falter- not because of disgust, god no. But because the next words out of his mouth are "Me too!" despite the fact the man refused to watch a single Saw film because the trailers were enough to turn him off of it.

But the way your eyes lit up at the shared interest was enough to make him lie straight through his teeth and bite down his own concerns when you ask if he'd like to have a movie night together.

Of course- the truth does come out.

When you're thirty minutes through Saw and you see Marcus watching with gritted teeth and a permanent grimace like he'd preparing to get punched in the face, you ask him truthfully if he wants to watch something else.

The poor puppy dog look that takes over his face is enough to make you want to kiss him then and there.

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osped · 7 months

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter five : lunar interlude : just a man (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ my kofi ♥ series masterlist ✩

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

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.0k

summary : a look into din's point of view

warnings, etc. : language, sexual fantasy, masturbation

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

Absurd.

It’s absurd how much the job pays. Din’s not even sure he should take it at this point because it’s too good to be true. But they promised monthly payments up front and he needed a new ship, and with what this gig pays, within the year he could buy a fleet. He could do this for a few years and be set for life.

So he catches a ship to Naboo.

And he meets with a rather obnoxious prince who loves the novelty of having a Mandalorian working for him. It’s a good thing the job’s seemingly so easy because Prince Harand is off putting enough to make him reconsider. It’s simple, act as a personal guard to his wife. In exchange he’ll receive more credits than he’ll know what to do with and a private place to reside in. All he has to do is keep her from harm and make sure she doesn’t get into trouble.

“Is she prone to getting into trouble?” Din doesn’t try to hide the distaste in his voice at how high-and-mighty the man is acting.

“You expect me to know that?”

Pig.

After he accepts he’s given direct permission to disregard any of her orders that would prevent him from doing his job.

He declines the invitation to attend the wedding, to say he’s indifferent to the whole affair would be an understatement. He isn’t in any hurry to meet the woman who agreed to marry that. So Prince Harand gives him a note, he doesn’t bother reading it, he just tosses it on the vanity and he waits alone in what he is told are your chambers.

Weddings take a while.

So he can’t help but be curious, after all did his employer expect him to just stand in the same spot all day? So he snoops, he’s allowed to be nosy, it might help him do a better job if he can get a grasp on who you are. He spends the next two hours inspecting the room from top to bottom and much to his annoyance he learns nothing. There isn’t a single personal item here. All the clothes are seemingly unworn, there’s no clutter, nothing. If anything he feels like he knows even less about you. Shit, does he even know your name? Had the prince mentioned it? Maker, did the prince even know the name of the woman he was marrying? What a clown. Whatever, it doesn’t matter, she’s royalty and he’s the help, she probably won’t even address him. So he waits for several hours. He just stands there, eventually he considers just leaving and reporting for duty tomorrow but he can hear voices in the hall now so he stands up a bit straighter, then the door creaks open and Kodo drunkenly peers in before slamming it shut again.

Idiot.

Is that laughter?

He doesn’t get any time to wonder what that was about because a Twi’lek opens the door and then you walk in. And he’s frozen in place. Your eyes are on him and the room is suddenly dreadfully hot. It’s like you're under some sort of spell that pulls you towards him and he can’t breathe. Why would they put such garish makeup on such a beautiful face?

He should say something. He needs to say something. Introduce yourself you dimwit.

He opens his mouth but before he can utter a sound you touch him. It feels like his heart has stopped. He can see you speaking but he doesn’t hear a thing, captivated by the way your mouth moves when you talk, your tongue poking out slightly to wet your lips as you graze his chest plate with your fingertips.

It’s enough to make a man want to abandon his creed and take you right there.

This must be some kind of punishment for all of the terrible things he’s done. The gods are punishing him with this paragon of a woman that he is doomed to spend his days with but he can never have. The ringing in his ears finally clears up and he hears the first words he can actually get a grasp on that come through your perfect mouth.

“Is this some sort of weird fetish of his?”

Well. The ringing is back in his ears. He thinks he might just have to die in this position at this point cause it’s definitely too late to speak up, he waited too long, what the hell is the matter with him? He’s a fucking bounty hunter for gods sake, he’s fought beasts of all shapes and sizes and suddenly he’s been conquered by some woman he doesn’t even know?

Your small hand grabs the edge of the helmet and he’s finally able to snap out of it when you go to remove it. On instinct he manages to catch both your wrists in one hand.

“Don’t.” Thank the gods the modulator covers up the way his voice cracks. You’re scolding him, you’ve poked a finger into his chest plate but he’s having a hard time paying attention because he can’t seem to take his eyes off of the way your face flushes red, and then your neck, and then your chest.

How low does the crimson tint go?

For Makers sake snap out of it man, you’re one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy not a school boy with a crush.

You’re staring at the Twi’lek, scowling. He has to silence his helmet to hide the laughter that bursts out as you actually manage to get him to leave just by eyeballing him.

He manages to get through the conversation with you without tearing your clothes off, although there is a close call when you hike up your skirt to remove an anklet and like some sort of repressed Victorian woman, he sees just a glimpse of your ankle and can feel blood rushing south.

For god’s sake. At that point he just closes his eyes because this situation cannot get any worse, and then he can hear your dress hit the floor and he has never had to work so hard to keep his eyes shut.

“...I want to hear it from you.”

“My job is to make sure you are not harmed.” Can you hear the strain in his voice as he wills himself not to get hard? Gods he hopes not. He needs to get out of this situation fast, he’s getting ready to dismiss himself and find Kodo and tell him to take the money back, that he can’t do this but you say something that stops him dead in his tracks.

“Actually I’m good.”

He can’t stop the exasperation in his voice.

“Excuse me?”

“Can you not hear through the helmet? I’m good. I’ve already got an ensemble of people trailing me. I don’t need another.”

You can’t be serious.

“You’re dismissed.”

You are.

People don’t typically talk to him like that. They’re always too afraid. But you aren’t, you don’t seem to be frightened by him in the slightest. He was going to leave, he wanted to leave, but it’s been a long time since someone challenged him like this.

“You don’t have the authority to dismiss me.” He snaps back.

He likes arguing with you. He doesn’t get to argue with people. Who wants to argue with a Mandalorian? Most people don’t want to get shot by a trained killer.

You don’t appear to be most people.

He wants to rile you up, wants to see the fire in your eyes, he’d do just about anything to be the target of your anger.

So he teases you, until he leaves, making sure to get the last word in. He sets up a few imperceptible motion sensors just under your door knob so he can make sure he’s alerted if you decide to make a run for it.

And then he’s alone. So he goes to where he was told his lodging would be, it’s about a twenty minute walk but he doesn’t mind, it’s secluded, cozy. The cabin reminds him a bit of the crest, just big enough to be comfortable.

He takes a cold shower and tries not to think about his boss's wife.

✩

The next few weeks aren’t any easier.

You seemingly can’t stand him and he decides it’s for the best. You should hate him, he deserves it since your husband is paying him outrageous amounts of money to follow you around all day and fantasize about all the ways he could make you hate him a little less.

It’s hell.

Having to watch you day in and day out. Watch you wander around aimlessly, like a bird trapped in a cage. His least favorite days are when he has to attend dinners with you and your husband. The man is an ogre. And that’s why he can’t seem to leave. He thinks about it, often. Just packing up and catching the next ship off planet. But if he leaves, who's going to protect you from this creep? So he stays.

Eventually, he watches you less like it’s his job and more like it’s his religion.

Things only get worse when one night he wakes up with a start, sitting up in bed as he hears the beeping from his gauntlet that signifies your door being opened. It’s the middle of the night. What if somebody got in? There’s no way, you have a state of the art locking system that only he and a few staff can get into, unless they have a code. What if it was just your husband? Why does that make him don his armor faster? He has no right to barge in there if it’s simply your spouse coming in to fulfill his marital duty, yet he’s in a dead sprint towards the castle the moment he’s dressed. He had fallen asleep in his flight suit with his helmet on anyway, it didn’t take him long and when he gets to your room he’s tense the moment he sees that the door is closed. Ever so slightly adjusting the audio on his helmet he discerns that the room is empty so he switches his vision so he can trail you and sure enough a set of footprints is going off in the familiar direction of the library.

It was a relief. To know that no one had gotten in and you had simply left on your own accord but why would you be sneaking out to the library? You go to the library everyday, you should be sick of it. So he silently walks until he sees the faint light of a glowrod illuminating your face, a stack of books clutched in your arms. And he’s about to say something, you’re only a few feet ahead of him but when you turn you’re wearing such a thin nightgown, and the robe is hardly doing anything to cover you. Before he can react you’re rushing forward slamming into him.

And now he’s facing the worst torture yet.

Your robe fell off one of your shoulders as you dropped and now you’re sprawled out on the floor below him, your hair is down, messy from sleep, your slip of a nightgown riding up your thighs as you look up into the darkness at him. And then you fucking groaned. And all he can think about is how easy it would be to turn that fabric into confetti.

Help her up jackass.

He reaches down and of course you swat his hands away. You should hate him.

He helps you back to your room and the moment he knows you aren’t going to try anything he rushes back in the direction of the library. He knows you're fuming, the least he can do is go get your books. But then he’s picking them up and looking at the titles he can’t believe how warm it is in the castle suddenly. He’s used to the heat. Wearing this many layers you build up a tolerance.

But now he’s looking at the stack of smutty romance novels you’d wanted so badly you’d snuck out to get them and he’s sweating.

He makes it back to the cabin in half the time it usually takes him. He was in such a hurry he had completely forgotten about returning your books to you. He tosses them to the side and in an instant he’s practically throwing his armor to the ground, he only manages to get half of it off before he sprawls out on his bed, discarding his gloves haphazardly as he frees his cock from his trousers. His helmet bumping against the wall as he leans back and starts stroking himself, his palms are so clammy he doesn’t even bother spitting in his hand.

It’s shameful how close he already is just at the sight of you on the floor like that. His hips stutter upwards into his fist as he imagines you on top of him, your thighs wrapped around his waist, hair disheveled, wearing that pretty little negligee. Maker, your skin always looks so soft, you’d feel so much better than his calloused hands. Were you gonna read those dirty books and touch yourself with those delicate little fingers of yours?

It doesn’t take long after that before he reaches his hasty climax, cumming with a filthy groan of your name, shooting ropes up onto his stomach.

He definitely deserves to have you hate him.

He tries to not even look at you after that. Until one day when you’re in the library once again and it’s obvious to him that you’re pretending to read your book, your eyes dart up to glare at him every few seconds.

You’re looking at him like bounties look at him once they’ve been caught and are plotting to attempt an escape, purely out of habit he chides you.

“Don’t”

And that’s all it takes. He actually manages to talk to you. Of course it’s easier once he imagines you as a particularly unruly bounty, to snap back at you. If you were a real bounty he’d have a hard time turning you in.

You’d look nice in the cuffs.

Don’t. Keep it in your pants you moron.

He even offers to take you to the gardens, you deserve that at the very least, a few hours outside of this sweltering castle.

Then he takes you back to your quarters and you look at him with those heart eyes and he feels like he’s going to pass out when you so eagerly make him promise to show you the gardens.

It’s selfish. But he has to get in one last dig, he has to see that bloom of color on your skin one last time as he tells you that your book had been upside down.

It all becomes so manageable. For a moment he thinks that the two of you might be able to handle this little antagonistic relationship that you’re beginning to build. It would be nice, to have you keeping him in check, to have reminders that you dislike him.

But he had to go and ruin it all.

It all went wrong so fast it made his head spin.

It all started when you were in that damned dress. You’d been the most stunning woman he’d ever seen even in the campy, over the top makeup, and the flashy unattractive dresses. But now here you were in that yellow gown and it was like he was seeing you clearly for the first time. There weren’t any flashy accessories to distract him from your face. That flawless face.

So he was already a little off his game at that point.

And then he slipped up. He couldn’t help it, not when you were standing next to him, dressed like that. He called you little flower. That had been something just for him and like the blundering fool that he was in your presence he blurted it out without thinking. He could feel that familiar paralysis, he hated the effect you had on him. Thank the gods he had done it in Mando’a.

But you’re you so of course you don’t drop it. And then you make it worse because you touch him.

And then he makes things worse because he lashes out.

Then he thinks you’re hurt and he makes an ass of himself.

And lashes out again. He’s not even that mad about the droid comment he’s just overwhelmed, he’s never been this overwhelmed and this stupid fucking planet is so hot.

It keeps getting worse, he can’t shut the fuck up and finally you tell him to leave and he can’t because he wants to stay, he wants to stay and scream at you because he can’t stand how much he needs you it makes him physically ill how you haunt him day and night.

So he says no.

And the look on your face is enough to make him want to swear a new creed to make sure you never look so betrayed ever again.

After that you should hate him. He’s glad you hate him. He’s glad you’re giving him the silent treatment, he deserves much worse.

The first day all he can think about is apologizing. You sit in that little nook, back in your blue dresses, looking furious. He just doesn’t know what to say that won’t make this worse.

The second day all he can think about is how he could make it up to you. He’s got a couple of ideas of things that might wipe that frown off your face. He’s obviously not going to just abandon his creed but you definitely don’t make it easy, there’s a million different things that he wants to do to you that would be rather difficult if he can’t use his mouth.

He doesn’t make any real progress on day two either and later that night ends up with his face buried in his pillow, fucking his fist.

The third day he’s actually kind of pissed. If you two have something in common it’s how stubborn you can be and suddenly he’s mad at you, for no real reason, he supposes he’s just sick of feeling sorry.

And then there’s that dinner.

He wants to kill that ignorant, snooty, little man more than he’s ever wanted to kill a person. He wants to make it last, it’s been a long time since he’s killed something, he would enjoy killing Kodo.

But all that rage goes away when he catches a glimpse of your expression and it’s replaced with fear. He’s never seen you look so small and suddenly he’s terrified that you’ve lost that fire. He’ll go back and massacre Kodo right now if he truly did extinguish your flame.

So he breaks the silence. And asks if you're okay.

And he’s relieved when you ramble on, even though he wishes so desperately he could wipe your tears away. Of course you’d be harder than that to put out. His light is okay, and that's all that matters.

So he leaves you your book.

He had gotten bored and read one of them. The Smitten Paladin. It was racy but it’s what she had gone to get in the first place so why not. But that isn’t enough. Not after what you just went through, so he opens the cover and leaves his favorite color, green, written inside, it’s the least he can do.

✩

He goes into the next day with the intention of apologizing. Not entirely sure what for.

Sorry your husband is a scumbag. You should leave him for me.

Doesn’t exactly have a ring to it.

Before he can think of what to say you come out of your room and he’s thankful for the helmet because his jaw would be on the floor.

Maker, did you wear that just for him?

The green dress clings to the outline of your torso and it feels like he’s been punched in the gut. Actually, he’s been punched in the gut plenty of times and this is worse because your hair is down and it’s all he can do to not tangle his fingers in it and drag you back into your room. What kind of game are you trying to play with him? Dressing in that color, making yourself irresistible, what the hell is your angle? He’s cautious and slow when he greets you. He remains on edge all the way to the library.

And then you take out the fucking book.

You can’t be serious.

This can’t be happening.

You can’t just do this.

You can’t just sit there in that dress. With your hair falling so exquisitely across your face, begging to be brushed behind your ear, reading porn directly in front of him.

If you’re trying to punish him it’s working. This is torture. If you used this method to interrogate him for information he would have folded immediately. He sits there for hours, sweating his ass off as you perch in that little nook of yours, it would be so easy for him to just bend you over it and lift up the skirt of that lovely little gown. Is that what you want? He’s getting dizzy. Why else would you do this and then read a fucking erotic novel in front of him? Is this some kind of test?

Then you look at him. It’s easy to forget since he’s always wearing a helmet that you don’t know when he’s staring right at you. You glance up at him through your eyelashes and you don’t look away. He’s so hard he’s pretty sure he’s about to burst through the front of his pants. What is your goal here? Your face is turning that delicious shade of red and you haven’t so much as looked at the pages in front of you for minutes at this point.

If this is some game of chicken he isn’t going to lose. No matter how badly he wants it, he won’t lay a hand on you unless you ask him for it. Did you just squeeze your thighs together?

For god's sake, ask for it. Ask for anything he’ll fucking do it.

He can’t take it anymore. So he speaks, teases you. It’s innocent enough.

Keep it innocent.

So you go back and forth and it’s safe. For a moment. He manages to adjust himself in the chair so it hopefully isn’t too obvious that he’s pitching a tent severe enough to camp under. And then he can’t stop himself from asking how the book is and before he knows it you’re asking if he had to take a vow of celibacy.

This isn’t okay.

And then you ask if he can take the armor off.

For Makers sake you’re married.

He needs to ask about something else. Anything else.

“The book, what’s it about?”

Yeah, let's talk about the porn again. Dumbass.

And then you say the words that make him want to just abandon his post and quit. Get as far away from this planet as possible.

“I wasn’t really stuck on anything… I suppose I was just trying to figure out how he fits it all in there?”

Fuck. Does she know? Is she trying to be coy?

You can’t know. He hadn’t seen your eyes dart between his legs. This can’t be happening, this is so bad. Kodo would have him killed for this. So he plays his last card, that he read the book. And thankfully it actually works, you’re so distracted by the fact that he read your book that he manages to get you out of the library and back to your chambers.

He can’t get back to his cabin fast enough.

Cold shower. Bed. That’s the order of events. Nothing else.

But he can’t get away from you. It’s worse when he sleeps because in his dreams you are so much less confusing.

In his dreams you join him in that cold shower and you warm him up in several different ways (and several different positions) and he can take off his helmet and look at you unfiltered. You're the leading lady of all of his dreams, since the day he met you he has never had a break from you.

That isn’t always a good thing because he wakes up from those dreams he has to go see the real you. The one that hates him. As you should.

✩

It was already a rough morning, there is nothing as humbling as waking up to find you’ve cum in your pants like some pent up teenager.

The morning only gets rougher when he goes to retrieve you and you aren’t there.

Fuck.

What’s the protocol for this sort of thing? He doesn’t even bother trying to figure that out because his hand is already on his blaster and he’s throwing doors open. This isn’t the time to panic, he needs to pull himself together.

And then he throws open the right door and you’re sitting there in the tub with your hand shoved between your legs, your head tilted back ever so slightly with your eyes shut tight. You’re his dream come to life and simultaneously his worst nightmare. He wants to look away. He needs to look away but he’s a goner the moment he sees your soapy chest.

This has to be a record breakingly bad morning.

And yet by some miracle he fixes it. Or rather, the garden fixes it. You couldn’t pay him to look away from your face. He wants you to look like this all the time, beaming, curious, truly happy. And he can’t help himself, he doesn’t deserve it, but he’s greedy and he wants to know more about you, wants to hear your voice. So he suggests the game and Maker, you play it.

Gods, he’s weak. Why do you make him so weak?

The moment you ask for a question if you win he knows what you’ll ask. He hadn’t planned on letting you win, but you looked so content, he could just tell you but he passes on the last question. He wants you to know what it means.

It’s selfish to ask for anything else, he shouldn’t be rewarded for this kind of behavior, but he does it anyway, and he asks for more. He asks for more days, just the two of you, and you say yes.

And when you ask what sarad'ika means he’s sure this is where he gets what he deserves, this is where you’ll spit in his face, call him a creep, and tell him to leave. But you don’t. Instead you politely say good night to him.

This can’t be real. There’s just no way. But there you are, each morning, in your much simpler gowns that suit you so perfectly, and you ask him to read because you don’t want him to be bored and how could he possibly say no to you. You could ask him for the moons and he’d find a way to give them to you.

But it has to end eventually.

And it does on the fifth cycle as reality crashes in and he has to escort you to dinner with your husband.

She’s married.

✩

It keeps getting worse. He’s asked to leave. He can’t. He can’t just leave you in a room full of drunk men, especially these drunk men. Especially that drunk man. His mind is racing at light speed but he can’t think of a single argument for why he should stay.

And then you look at him with those pleading eyes and his heart starts pounding out of his chest.

Maybe he could take on six battle droids.

But he doesn’t, of course. Because what if you got caught in the crossfire. You hadn’t produced an heir, you were still expendable to Prince Harand. And he has to leave you alone with him.

It’s the longest two hours of his life.

He wants to tune it out, to turn off any exterior sound on the helmet but he can’t because what if something happened to you? So he listens to every word.

He’s never felt so small.

It’s a pitiful feeling. To go through your entire life being used to doing things a certain way to protect the ones you care for. And then when it comes down to the person that means the most to you you can’t do a thing.

For a man who has solved nearly all of his problems in life with a blaster, to suddenly be unable to do so? It’s pathetic.

They could punish her if I intervene.

They could kill her.

They could kill me.

Lock me up.

Who would protect her then?

Maker, he hasn’t felt this crushing sensation in his chest since he had to say goodbye to the kid. He can’t breathe.

He’s supposed to be the strong one.

Yet he has been conquered by a fucking door.

He doesn’t even realize you're out. Or that you’ve kicked him. Or that you’re suddenly sitting between his legs. He’s too far gone. It isn’t until he feels his helmet adjust that he snaps out of it.

Because you’re real. And you’re okay.

No thanks to him.

And he can’t stop the words that pour out of his mouth. Never in his life has he been reduced to this, afraid like this. You should be disgusted. That the Mandalorian sworn to protect you had been diminished to this. Just a man.

But you aren’t. You’re warm, and gentle, and soft, and real.

He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve you.

So he stands. And he helps you up.

He needs you to hate him again. It’s the only thing that keeps him grounded.

So he escorts you to your chambers, and you turn to him and say those five damning words.

“Do you wanna come in?”

He’s weak. And he’s selfish. Don’t do this Mando.

But he isn’t a Mandalorian right now. He’s just a man.

With you he's just Din.

So he nods.

339 notes · View notes

osped · 7 months

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter four : sarad'ika (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ my kofi ♥ series masterlist ✩

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

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 6.8k

summary : you finally get a chance to see the gardens

warnings, etc. : language, panic attacks, general kodo grossness

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

Sarad'ika.

You won’t forget it this time, you can’t. So you write it in your book, just under Mando’s favorite color you write the two little words that have been keeping you up at night. Once you get that out of the way you’re left alone in the quiet, wide expanse of your room. You have about ten seconds of time alone with your thoughts before you get restless.

You need a change of scenery, and fast, because it’s taking every single ounce of restraint you have left to not stick your hand back up your dress, lock yourself in your room for the rest of the week, and think about that stupid, stupid dream. Opening the curtains you could see the sun starting to come up, so you pulled the rope that summons the girls because you desperately need a bath. You need to get rid of this dirty feeling that envelops you.

His phantom touch lingers on your skin. He had been so real, you swear you’ll have bruises on your waist when you undress.

Elaine and Lysa can’t get here fast enough, but when they do you’re already halfway out the door.

“Fresher, bath, now.” You’re still rocking a thin sheen of sweat and your mouth is dry. Lysa doesn’t seem thrown by your tone but you have to shoot Elaine a pleading look to make sure she doesn’t ask.

“Yes ma’am.” Elaine guides you into the fresher and quickly starts undoing your dress, while Lysa draws the bath. You know your entire body tenses up the moment she starts unlacing your bodice, thank the gods she doesn’t comment on it. You waste no time, the moment you’re free from your garments you step into the bath, you’re still not used to cold bathes like this, back on Hoth you’d pull from hot springs down in the planet's core to heat your water. But you couldn’t be more thankful for the cold now because it seems to be cooling the fire that lingers in your stomach. The girls retreat back to your chambers to prepare your outfit for the day.

“Not green.” You manage to squeak out as you sink lower into the bubbles. Watching them go. Alone with your thoughts again. Focus on something else. Don’t think about the Mandalorian. Think about how unnecessarily big this tub is. It’s less of a bathtub and more of a small pool honestly, you could swim laps in here. You float yourself over to the edge of the tub to find a washcloth, you need to scrub off any imaginary touches that might linger on your skin. You start at your shoulders, your mind manages to stay empty until you get to your chest. Then he’s there again, clear as day, so you try to think about something else, think about the least sexy thing you can, the first thing that comes to mind.

Your husband.

Yikes.

Surprisingly that works. You think about Kodo and the ache between your legs vanishes completely until you actually have to wash there. Gods, the last thing you need to do is start touching yourself here and now and have one of the girls walk in, so you make it quick, squeeze your eyes shut and shove the washcloth between your thighs and don’t think about him.

But you can’t get away from him, after a moment you open your eyes slowly and it’s like he’s right in front of you.

Fuck he’s actually right in front of you. The door to the fresher is wide open and it’s like he’s frozen in time, one hand on his blaster, the other on the door handle. His visor fixed on you.

He lingers way too long, you both know it.

Finally, in sync you both seem to snap out of it. He immediately turns ninety degrees to stare at the wall. You know he’s apologizing but you can’t hear him over the ringing in your ears as you feel your face turning crimson. You’re doing everything in your power to cover yourself with the bubbles but you know he definitely saw something, for Makers sake he was ogling you for a second there. There is a beat where it’s silent, you’re staring at him and he’s staring at the wall and finally you find your voice.

“Get out!” You’re covering your chest with one hand as you point at the door with the other. It might be the first time you’ve ever seen him stumble, Elaine walks in as he’s rushing out, wordlessly brushing past her, her eyes go wide as she turns from him to you. Your head is in your hands now. “I think I’m done.” She wraps you in a towel as you stand. She’s grabbing another towel to dry your hair as she extends a hand to help you step out. Guiding you to a stool and sitting you down, humming softly as she pats your hair dry. So much for the cold helping, now it feels like your entire body is on fire.

“He was just worried.” She says it matter of factly and you whip your head around to stare at her.

“What?”

“He was worried about you. We were in the closet when he barged in, all he saw was your bedroom doors wide open, and an absence of you. By the time I stepped out into the hall he was throwing doors open.” She smirks as she turns you back around so she can finish drying you off.

“He should have knocked…” You grumble as you cross your arms in front of your chest.

“Go easy on him, it’s the first time in what? Three weeks? Four weeks? He’s never been in a situation where he’s shown up to retrieve you and you weren’t there, he probably thought you were spirited away in the few hours he wasn’t keeping an eye on you.” Once your hair is mostly dry she starts loosely braiding it.

“I’m capable of surviving an hour without him.” You huff, you know she’s probably right. And there is a small part of you that kind of likes how much he seemingly cares.

“You’re his responsibility. I think it’s sweet how he takes his job so seriously.”

“Of course you think it’s sweet, he doesn’t follow you around like he’s your shadow.” You mumble but she laughs it off.

“Come on, Lysa is probably alone with him right now and freaking out, so we better not keep her waiting.” She covers you with a robe and takes you by the arm, ushering you back to your chambers.

You didn’t know it was possible to look ashamed through so many layers of metal and fabric, but there he is, standing outside your quarters like always except now he’s strung-out. You swear you catch his fingers clenching into a fist for a moment before brushing past him to get dressed, Elaine closing the door behind you before rushing over to Lysa. You’re standing in front of the mirror now and you can see them whispering to each other, you don’t bother trying to get involved when you see Lysa suppress a giggle.

They dress you in a lightweight pink gown, you’re thankful that they seemed to pick up on your distaste for heavy makeup as they do it much more simply, and before you can stop them they’re leaving. And now you have to sit and stare at yourself in the vanity, putting off the inevitable. It was going to be hard enough facing him without the whole bath incident but now it feels a thousand times worse. But you can’t put this off forever so you might as well get over it. Gritting your teeth you open the door and step out, before you can even look at him he’s rambling.

“I’m so sorry, I thought something might have happened to you, I assumed the worst and it was stupid and I should have knocked but I was worried and I promise I didn’t see anything and-” He stares at the floor the entire time and his words are rushed and quiet.

“Stop.” You cut him off. You had been prepared to let him grovel but the moment you heard how genuinely distressed he sounded you had decided to forgive him. You didn’t even know it was possible for him to sound so rattled, he’s acting like he saw a ghost.

“Stop?” He sounds like he’s got way more speech prepared and honestly, you don’t wanna hear it.

“It’s fine. It was an honest mistake and I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” He hesitates for a moment. “But I am sorry.”

“Stop it.” You glare at him but start walking in the opposite direction of the library. “But… if you’re really sorry I know how you can make it up to me.”

“Anything.” Well you were gonna ask him to take you to the gardens but if he was offering up anything. It’s almost like he can read your mind because he immediately shoots you a warning look. “Within reason.” Damn it. Gardens it is.

“I believe you still have a promise to fulfill?” You stop at the fork in the hallway, no longer sure of where you’re going. It takes him a second to realize what you’re implying but after a moment he nods towards the right and walks slightly ahead of you instead of trailing behind.

By the time you make it outside and to the forest trail neither of you have spoken. There’s still an oppressive tension looming over you both. You can’t look at him and seemingly he can’t look at you.

Of course in your case it’s because last night he had stared in your own personal porno and in his case he just saw you naked and you just so happen to be married to the guy who pays his salary.

Maker, is this even salvageable at this point? Do you want to salvage this?

You have to. This is all you have. Even if you hate him, (although you’re not even sure if that’s still true) even if some small part of you is attracted to him, (you also aren’t sure that part is all that small anymore) even if he saw your tits this morning, (he definitely did.) He’s all you’ve got at this point. So yes, you want to salvage this. All you have to do is say something, if you say the right thing you can fix this whole mess. If you say the wrong thing he might never be able to look at you ever again but that has to be a risk you’re willing to take and your mind moves faster than your mouth as you blurt out what might be the dumbest thing you could possibly say right now.

“Are we friends?” Gods, are you a child? He doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t stop to look at you. His stride never wavers as he continues marching down the trail.

“I don’t have friends.” Well shit. Big surprise the guy who’s paid to spend time with you doesn't consider you a friend. “But, you are probably the closest thing I have to a friend. Even if you don’t have a choice in the matter of my presence.” He finally turns to look at you. Maker, he sounds genuine, why is your heart fluttering, he called you a friend, it doesn’t get less sexy than that. “Am I your friend?” Did his voice just crack? You’re imagining things.

“Well, I talk to you more than anyone else, I spend more time with you than anyone else, so I suppose you’re also the closest thing I have to a friend.” You’re about to say something snarky to make your statement less mushy but you step out of the trees and your eyes go wide.

It’s nothing like they say it is in books. You’d always imagined a garden to be one big mass of the same shade of green but it’s so much more than that. There’s so many different greens, they all stick out, and there’s so many other colors, nothing back on Hoth that compared to this. You’d all but forgotten about Mando as you just gawked. It was massive, you could probably spend all day walking and never step on the same spot twice. There’s so much you don’t even know where to start.

You didn’t even know real flowers could be that brightly colored. You’d only ever owned fake flowers growing up because nothing would grow in the cold, the sharp hues of your plastic lilies would look pathetic next to these. These were alive, they swayed in the wind. Bugs flew through the petals. Everything felt alive. Up until this point you had not found one part of this planet that you liked more than home, but this was better than anything you’d ever had a chance to see.

“Does it live up to your expectations?” He’s next to you now, you don’t understand how he’s looking at you and not the field, you can’t tear your eyes off of it. You want to hug him. Well, no, that would be inappropriate, but you’re so thankful you almost don’t care.

All things considered you probably shouldn’t even be alone with him at this point with your combined track record the only things that happen when you’re in the same vicinity are arguments. And now nudity. But you’re so happy you don’t give a shit. You’re so happy that when he holds his arm out to you, you take it without a second thought and let him lead the way.

You wonder if you’ve been this happy since you arrived. Have you been happy at all since you found out you were promised to Kodo? You can’t recall. He’s very thorough, he makes sure you get to see everything, every flower, vine, leaf and root. Everytime he stops in front of something so you can get a good look he waits until you move first, to make sure you’ve had your fill of every single thing. When you ask him questions about the flora he seems almost embarrassed that he doesn’t have answers for you. It’s kind of cute. You don’t know how long you stay like that, arm in arm. You don’t even hear him when he finally speaks, you’re completely captivated by a butterfly.

“What?” It isn’t the usual tone you take with him, there’s a warmth to your tone that you typically reserved for people back home.

“I asked if you wanted to play a game.” Well you certainly weren’t expecting that.

“What kind of game?” You can’t help but be skeptical, even though you don’t think he’d try and ruin your good mood and you want to trust him. This just seems out of character for him.

“Well, since we’re almost friends with each other, I thought we might get to know each other better. That’s what friends do, they know things about each other.” His voice is casual and he sounds almost relaxed. It suits him. And he’s right, friends should know each other.

Friends are good. Friends are safe. Friends don’t have sex dreams about each other. You should be friends. That’s the safest thing to be, and it would be nice to have a friend.

“So what… we just ask each other questions? That doesn’t sound like a game, it sounds like a conversation.”

“Sounds like someones scared of losing.” He looks straight ahead as the two of you begin walking towards what appears to be a lake, there’s a gazebo next to it and a few other things you can’t make out in the distance. You can’t help but scoff.

“Fine. What are the rules?”

“It’s simple, we ask each other questions but you can choose not to answer, you can pass. First person to pass on three questions loses.” Well this seems easy enough, and he’s so secretive you’ll win without a doubt.

“Okay, but I get to go first.”

“Of course.” Is he smiling under the helmet? He probably has a nice smile. Is that something friends think about each other? Who cares, you can let this one thought slide, it's innocent enough. you hesitate for a moment, why not start simple.

“Where are you from?”

“Pass.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly serious.” His tone is still light so you know you haven’t struck a nerve. How odd.

“Okay so wait, what do I get if I win? Since it’s obvious I’m going to.” That gets a genuine chuckle from him. It’s nice. It’s not as bassy as his voice is, but it’s still low, raspy and authentic. You want to hear it again.

“What do you want?”

For you to grope me in front of a mirror?

Well friends don’t certainly ask friends for that. What did you want?

“I want a question.”

“Well that just doesn’t make sense princess, we’re playing a question game.”

“No, the winner gets to ask the other person a question and they have to answer. No passing.” You know you have a smug look on your face, you already know what you’re going to ask. He thinks about it for a long time, long enough that you’re worried that he might say no.”

“Okay. Deal. Where are you from?” You’ve reached the gazebo now and you both take a seat. You rest your arms on the railing so you can stare at the lake.

“Hoth.”

“I didn’t know Hoth could sustain life.”

“We live underground, why did you take this job?” You kind of expect him to pass again but he answers without missing a beat.

“I needed the credits. This was the highest paying job.”

“Why did you need money?” You pull your eyes away from the water to look at him, you’re kind of surprised to find his helmet already facing you and not the scenery, it’s gorgeous here.

“It isn’t your turn.” He asks again before you can protest. “What’s your family like?” You consider passing but it could be worse.

“I have eight siblings and I’m really close with them. Well I was. I never got that close with my parents, small colony royalty, they liked to act like they were above it all so in our colony of less than 500 people who had nothing to do, we had nannies.” You can’t help but roll your eyes at the memory. He nods slowly but doesn’t ask for a follow up so you just ask your next question. “Did you like being a bounty hunter?”

“I don’t really feel anything towards it. It was work, I didn’t hate it, I didn’t love it. I was just good at it.” He doesn’t even have his usual tone of arrogance, he says it like it’s a fact. “Did you choose to marry him?”

“Pass.” You respond way too quickly, and you know you’re practically giving him the answer by passing. But you don’t want to say it, don’t want him to feel sorry for you. “When do you eat and drink?” He chuckles again, Maker, you want to marry that laugh, you want to make love to that laugh, you want to bury yourself alive and die in that laugh. Nope, that’s not a normal thing friends think about each other you fucking weirdo.

“When you aren’t looking.”

“What? That doesn’t make any-”

“No follow up questions.”

You play for a long time, going back and forth until the sun is much lower in the sky. It’s exhilarating to have a real conversation go on this long, the two of you don’t even argue (for the most part.) He tells you so much about himself that you can hardly remember all of it, you keep a mental list of your favorite things.

“Did you really read the Smitten Paladin?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a little straw in your helmet so you can drink stuff?”

“No.”

“Do you sweat a lot in all those layers?”

“Sometimes.”

“Is your name really Mando? Cause that’s, like, super convenient if it is.”

“It’s not.”

“What is your name?”

“Pass.”

“What color is your hair?”

“Brown.”

Now you’re tied, whoever passes next loses. You had passed earlier when he had asked if you wanted the rest of your books back. Cocky son of a bitch. When you had asked if he had read them all he responded with, “ Not yet.” You need to win. So you think long and hard until you come to a question you’re sure he won’t answer.

“Where are your quarters?” You give him a satisfied smirk, let's see him worm his way out of this one.

“Why do you want to know?”

Yikes. He’s got you there. Do friends usually ask friends where they sleep? Doesn’t matter, you’re so close to the win that you just deflect.

“Are you gonna pass?”

He takes a minute. A long minute, just staring at the lake, and you’re ready to accept the win when he points out past the water.

“There’s a cabin just on the edge of the pond. I live there.”

You’re so shocked he actually answered that you don’t even care that he didn’t pass, you squint and sure enough there it is, you’re surprised you didn’t see it before but it blends in so well with the trees. There’s a small cabin by the edge of the water. You have a million follow up questions but of course he cuts you off before you can ask any of them.

“What did you mean when you said I was your least favorite?”

Shit. You can’t believe he remembers that. Gods you don’t want to lose, and you can’t bring yourself to lie because you would always know your win wasn’t real and there’s no satisfaction in that. So you sigh.

“My first couple of days here I was very bored so I made a list of my favorite people here.” You can feel your face getting hot. He must be getting used to seeing you get red like this, it practically happens hourly at this point. “You used to be on the bottom of the list but now you aren’t.”

“Where am I now?” There is no hurt in his voice, just speculation. He’s leaning closer to you now. You can’t help but close your eyes and just enjoy his smell for a fleeting moment. Smoke, metal, and fresh linen. That last one is a bit shocking, he must have other flight suits that all look the same.

“No follow up questions.” You smirk. “How did you know I left my room that one night I snuck out to the library if you live across the lake?”

“Pass.” You don’t even get to enjoy the win because you’re a little disappointed that you don’t get to know the answer. “You win princess.” He stands and holds out his arm again and you quickly take it as you start walking back in the direction of the trail. When had it gotten so dark? The sun was nearly set and you’d hardly even noticed. You’d spent the whole day out here.

You want to ask your question immediately but the moment you open your mouth he speaks.

“We should do this more often.” He sounds so carefree, it catches you off guard

“The game?”

“No, but we can do that as well if you’d like, but I meant getting out of the castle.” Honestly the thought of being out more often thrills you, you just aren’t sure what the rules for that are since you married into the royal family.

“I would love to get out to the garden more often.” You whisper it, almost just to yourself.

“Not just the garden. Have you ever seen the rest of this planet?”

“No.” You haven’t even been off of the royal grounds.

“Okay, new deal. On the first day of the week we go somewhere, even if it is just the gardens.” Your heart skips a beat. He has a day now, just like Kodo, Mando has his own day. You wish you could keep the dopey grin off your face.

“Deal.”

You don’t speak until you're back inside the castle, you don’t even speak when you walk through the halls, you’ve finally found a comfortable silence with each other. You do of course unlink your arms, you don’t know why you both feel the need to pull away at the same time. After all you’re just friends, but you do anyway. Now you’re at the door to your chambers and Leo is waiting for you, impatiently tapping his foot.

“You didn’t attend any of your meals.” His voice is short, clearly upset with you. You give him an apologetic look, and you are hungry.

“Sorry… I guess I just lost track of time, if you bring dinner to my chambers I’ll eat now.” Normally you’d just go to the dining hall but you want one more moment alone with Mando. Leo eyes the two of you but takes his leave.

“As you wish, ma’am.” As he begins walking away you turn back to your steel companion.

“You owe me one more question.” You grin up at him. You wish you could see if he was smiling too.

“Ask away, princess.” He puts his hands on his hips as the helmet turns down towards you.

“What does sarad'ika mean?” You say a silent prayer that this doesn’t ruin the perfect day you’ve had. He doesn’t respond or move for quite some time. Your stomach is in knots and you start mentally cursing yourself out for bringing this up again. But he clears his throat and when he does speak it’s so unexpectedly gentle you almost take a step back.

“In Mando’a, sarad means flower, or bloom, and ika means little.”

Little flower.

He had called you little flower.

You don’t think friends call each other little flower.

You honestly aren’t sure what to say so you just sort of nod, but you don’t want him to feel like he upset you so when you open the door to your room you turn back towards him one last time.

“Thank you Mando. I had a really nice day.”

“Good night princess.”

“Good night.” You close the door.

You wish he had called you sarad'ika again. ✩

The next three cycles are the best you’ve had so far.

You don’t talk about your question and honestly that’s fine because you still aren’t sure how you feel about it. But being friends with Mando is nice, once you convince him that you aren’t going to bolt the second he looks away you actually get him to read a few books, you’re surprised he never picked something up until now considering how much time you two actually spend in the library. You stick with your fiction novels and are surprised to find how much he enjoys history books. He's a fast reader and matches your pace of a book or two a day.

But it’s the fifth cycle of the week. Which means you’re dolled up in blue and you have dinner with your husband tonight. You haven’t seen Kodo since your last dinner when he humiliated you so you aren’t exactly excited. Something tells you Mando isn’t all that thrilled either, he’s quiet today. He’s always quiet until you get him going but you aren’t feeling chatty today so neither is he. You both read in silence for as long as you can until finally you can’t put it off any longer and you loudly slam your book shut and stand.

“We should probably get going.” You smooth out the wrinkles in your dress from sitting so long. He doesn’t speak, only nodding as he stands, setting his book down on top of yours. You begrudgingly make your way down the hall and are thrown off by the amount of noise coming from the dining hall, when Mando opens the large doors for you you’re shocked to see nearly a dozen men eating, Kodo is seated at his typical spot, the head of the table and he stands as he sees you.

“Wife! So good of you to join us! I thought I’d invite some of my brothers and cousins to dine with us tonight.” He’s just as drunk if not drunker than he was last time and much to your discomfort the rest of the men don’t seem much different. Taking a nervous step inwards Mando starts to close the doors once the two of you are inside. “One moment Mandalorian, you won’t be needed tonight. Afterall, it’s just family.” There’s suddenly ice in your veins. You spent so much time trying to get rid of him you hadn’t thought about what would happen when he wasn’t there to protect you.

“I’ve sworn myself to her, I’ll stay” A chill runs up your spine. You’d gotten so used to his voice being lighthearted and gentle that it sends a jolt through you to hear him speaking so sternly. You don’t recognize the tone, even from your first few days with him. More importantly, when the hell did he swear himself to you? Was that a part of the job Kodo was paying him to do? It seems a bit severe for a bodyguard gig.

Kodo doesn’t seem in the slightest affected by the inflection of his voice even though the other men in the room look wary.

“I insist, Mandalorian. Take the night off.” He holds his cup towards the two of you before he sits back down and starts rambling to the men, seemingly picking up where he left off on some sort of hunting story. You turn, your eyes wide with worry towards Mando, you want to beg him to stay, you want you grab him by the shoulders and plead with him to not leave you alone but you know that he can’t. Even if he wanted to. It’s not like he can fight every royal family member, all the staff, and the half dozen battle droids that trailed behind Kodo. He turns to leave and you turn back towards the table but before he opens the door you hear him whisper just loud enough so only you can hear it.

“I’ll be right outside. Nothing’s gonna happen to you.” And then he’s gone, the doors close with a loud thunk and you pull up a chair.

Surprisingly Mando’s promise helps you relax, you sip your wine and you don’t have too bad of a time. It’s a miracle that the presence of all of Kodo’s relatives is a bit of a blessing. Sure, the room being full of men originally was absolutely terrifying but they keep his attention off of you and you quickly realize that they’re too scared to even look at you, you don’t understand that bit for a while until in an instant it clicks.

You’re Kodo’s.

He calls you wife because that’s all you are. You belong to him, therefore it would be an insult to Kodo to leer at you. As disheartening as that is, it's a bit of a relief and you’re able to enjoy most of your dinner until the servants come around and take your plates, which is a welcome sight because it means you can leave. Funnily enough you miss Mando standing behind your shoulder. You feel almost empty without him looming although you suppose you’re bound to feel that way after spending four full weeks by each other's sides. You’re eager to get back to him, to feel the safety of his presence and you’re about to stand up and leave when Kodo’s voice fills the room, commanding the attention of everyone present.

“Isn’t she just a gem?” In the blink of an eye everyone's heads are turned towards you. “Such a pretty little thing,” His grin is viscous and the way he says it makes your skin crawl. “aren’t you princess?” You hate the way it sounds coming from his mouth, and not in the same way you “hate” it when Mando says it. You detest the way Kodo says it.

But he’s so drunk a small wind could knock him over. You can handle this. If you can tease a Mandalorian you can subdue a douche bag prince.

“Thank you, my prince.” You bite back the venom that inevitably tries to seep out.

“Don’t you all think she’s lovely?” Once everyone's eyes are on you, you feel less confident. You wish he would just go back to calling you bland as the men nod and hum in agreement. You feel sick. It’s like having dinner with a dozen Kodo’s, they all have the same dull blonde hair and unpleasant voices. You’re preparing to leave again when what you assume is a cousin speaks up. He looks like he has a few years on Kodo and you know that the prince is the eldest of his brothers.

“When do you plan on getting her pregnant?”

You want to throw up. You can’t stand the way they talk about you like you aren’t even there.

Kodo’s grin widens.

“I think we’ll wait. My father is still young and if her looks are her only redeeming quality, I'd like to keep them intact for as long as possible.” The table erupts in laughter and you think about throwing your wine glass at him. Would that be considered treason? You don’t know so you just tune them out, you know they’re still talking about you, they do for a while.

So you drink your wine and stare straight ahead. Now that Kodo has seemingly given them permission to speak of you they don’t stop. Every once in a while you’ll catch a sentence or two and you have to swallow down the bile that threatens to erupt from your throat. They’re shameless, and they’re vulgar. The only thing that keeps you seated is that you know that none of them will lay a hand on you. It’s the only perk to being seen as nothing more than an extension of your husband. They won’t touch you because you’re his. You have a hard time finding comfort in that fact.

After what feels like an hour you stand up, your chair screeching loudly against the wood.

“I’m rather tired. I think I shall retire to my chambers.” You don’t bother hiding the repulsion from your voice but Kodo only smiles and nods as you turn to leave.

“Goodnight, wife.”

“Goodnight, husband. ”

You don’t turn back around until you’re out of the room.

You let out a sigh of relief once the doors are closed and immediately look for Mando, you don’t see him at first and a wave of betrayal washes over you. Did he leave? He had promised to stay. Could you even be mad at him for leaving? Kodo offered him the night off, he hasn’t had so much as an hour off since he started. You think back to what he had said weeks ago.

“You’re a full time job, sarad'ika.”

You hadn’t even thought of how draining that must be until now.

But he had promised.

Stop being a cry baby, don’t act like some heartbroken little girl, you’re being overdramatic.

You only get a few steps away from the dining hall when you almost trip over something and when you look down he’s there. He had been so still you’d missed him entirely. He’s too still. He should have said something by now, or gotten up. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach as you look around. Kodo dismissed all the guards on this floor except for the several repurposed battle droids in the dining hall that served as his personal guard, there’s no one here to help you as you kneel down directly in front of him. His back is against the wall and his knees are bent, hands folded in front of him.

“...Mando?” you say it as delicately as you can manage, leaning your head forward so you’re in his direct line of sight. “Mando are you alright?” Is he shaking? “Mando, I need you to talk to me.” You can hear the anxiety in your own voice, echoing through the silent hallway. He doesn’t move so you just say fuck it and crawl between his legs so you can rest your ear against his chest, it isn’t easy with the chestplate but you settle in just above it.

Maker, his heart is racing.

You pull back and stare into the helmet. The concern is apparent in your expression as you place both hands on the sides of his helmet as you would when holding someone's face. His chest is rising and falling too fast.

“Can you breathe Mando? I need you to talk to me, can you breathe through the helmet?”

Fuck you can’t tell. You lean in closer, resting your temple against the Beskar until you can hear his breaths. The modulator isn’t even picking them up, you’re hearing them through the steel.

It sounds like he’s hyperventilating.

“It’s me Mando. I need you to tell me you're okay or I’m going to have to take your helmet off to make sure you can breathe.” Gods, you don’t want to have to do this. You whisper your own name a few times to him. “It’s me Mando, I’m right here.” You’re about to do it, you don’t know what other options you have so you squeeze your eyes shut tight and grip the steel of his helmet and take in a deep breath, in the beat of silence before you can bring yourself to do it you hear the modulator crackle.

“Are you hurt? It’s like he’s just waking up as his hands fly to your hips, holding onto you like he can’t even believe you’re real. The modulator barely picks up his murmur. But you drop your hands down and rest them on his shoulders as you sigh in relief. Thank the stars.

“No, I’m okay.”

He’s nearly incoherent as he speaks softly and quickly you barely catch most of it, the modulator doesn’t pick up the majority of it so you have to listen closely to hear his voice through the helmet, he’s still struggling to catch his breath.

“I didn’t know what to do… never felt so useless… never frozen up before… could hear everything… to rip his tongue out… talked about you like that… if any of them had touched… would have broken down that damn door … wouldn’t care about the stupid droids…”

All animosity you had ever felt towards the man in front of you vanished, even if temporary. Because that’s all he was right now. He wasn’t the Mandalorian, right now he was only a man.

“I’ve never… don’t understand what… wanted to stay… what if you… too many droids…” You press your forehead against his helmet to try and hear better and you finally manage to put together a couple sentences. “I couldn’t just go in, because if I got hurt, who would look after you? I can’t protect you from a jail cell, I’ve never had to worry about that before…”

You can’t take the way his voice shakes so you hold his helmet in your hands again and tilt it upwards to meet your gaze.

“Hey… I am okay.” You enunciate each word as you stare into the strip of black. “Nothing happened, I am unharmed.” You take his hand in yours and bring it up to your face so it cradles your cheek. “See? I’m okay, nothing happened to me. And if something was going to happen to me you would stop it. Okay?”

You sit like that for several minutes. Knelt between his legs, rubbing your thumb gently against the helmet as his unmoving hand rests on your face.

It takes him a while but his breathing finally seems to level out. When he speaks again he’s loud enough for the modulator to pick up and it’s jarring how normal he suddenly sounds.

“It’s late, you should be in bed.”

“Okay.” You’re just happy he’s okay.

Although now you feel a bit self conscious about the position the two of you are in. But it’s like he reads your mind as he puts his hands on your waist and easily lifts you as he gets to his feet. You don’t have a chance to say anything before he’s already walking. You just follow, and when you arrive he opens the door to your chambers for you.

You want so desperately to speak. You want to comfort him, you want to say anything to let him know that you’re okay, that he’s okay, but he speaks first.

“Good night princess.” He says it with a finality that lets you know that there will be no further discussion on what just happened. That tomorrow you will act as if this never happened. But you don’t want that.

“Good night, Mando.”

He waits for you to close the door, you wait for him to walk away. But neither of those things happen. So instead, because the two of you are just friends, you open the door a little wider.

“Do you wanna come in?”

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