#Tearing down strongholds

[ilsanslut]

꒷♡꒷ STRESS RELIEF!

♰ featuring: wriothesley [genshin impact]

♰ note: i’m in heat and all i can think about is a stressed and tired wriothesley eating out his pretty gf from the back to relieve his tension.

sypnosis: get you a man who will drown in your pussy and call it “stress relief”! wc: 2.6k content/trigger warning(s): 18+. smut. femme/female bodied!reader. messy pussy-eating. dominant/feral!wriothesley. marking. biting. spanking. squirting. cursing. hand-holding. groping. hair pulling. ꒷꒦

It was almost as though Wriothesley was being crushed under the constant pressure of his job as the warden within the shadowy confines of the Fortress of Meropide. The burden of his obligations bore down on him like the merciless force of the sea that imprisoned them all within the stronghold. When a problem arose or strife broke out among the prisoners, he was the one they all turned to for help. Today, on the other hand, appeared to be the day that he would be pushed to his breaking point. There was a mountain of paperwork that was piled high on top of his desk and seemed to never end; the pipes seemed to trickle and leak indefinitely, necessitating constant repair; the elevators are out of commission for maintenance, forcing everyone to use the forgotten, decrepit, and mildew-smelling stairwell; and, to top it all off, there is a 'Credit Coupon' thief swiping people's credits beneath their noses. And, not to mention, he had been so backed up with dealing with everyone else’s problems that he had already missed his afternoon tea.

Anyone near could feel the ominous aura radiating off of the iron doors of his office.

Though, amidst the chaos and tension, one beacon of solace shone through—you. His light in the darkness. The one thing keeping him sane.

Your warm smile and unwavering support were the calming forces that held the key to unlocking his cold heart. He craved the comforting words you spoke, the softness of your touch, and the calm you provided amidst the chaos of everyday life. You turned into a haven for him—a haven from the relentless pressure that felt like it would swallow him.

Which is exactly why you weren’t surprised when a guard came to you while you were aiding Sigewinne with a patient, informing you that the Duke requested your presence in his office immediately. Lunch was usually shared by the two of you, but you expected that he would be too overwhelmed with work to remember to eat, let alone take a break, given everything he has been going through. The two guards outside his office gave you a pitying glance as you got closer, understanding that things were not good. Nevertheless, they let you cross the bridge and into his office. You went in, and the first thing you saw was Wriothesley sitting on the bottom two steps, as if he were waiting for you. You noticed that his tie was unkempt, his jacket was completely abandoned, and his hair had a disheveled tousle that suggested he had either been tugging or running his hands through it for at least a while. That, and it was impossible to ignore the worn-out look in his faded hues.

But as soon as your eyes met, his worn-out expression changed to something strange but familiar—something you had seen on many sultry nights spent by yourself with him in the past. His eyes were fixed on you, freezing you in place with an indisputable lust, a carnal hunger, and a burning desire. Pushing himself up from the steps, he moved toward you with calculated, deliberate steps, each one more heavy than the last, like a beast cornering its prey, his heavy steel boots clinking against the copper floors. Soon, he was towering over you, hands twitching at his sides as though he were refraining from tearing you apart where you stood.

“You look good.” You blurted, swallowing thickly in your throat, as you were cornered against the heavy steel of his office’s door.

He chuckled, throaty and sultry, as his hand met your waist, the other one coming to rest it’s forearm above your head as he caged you between the door and his muscular frame, “Yeah?”

His casual drawl had your knees going weak, threatening to buckle beneath you while his thumb rubbed slow, salacious circles into your hip. “I think I’ve been better.”

You shrugged nonchalantly with an indifferent hum, raising your hands to trail absentminedly over his large chest that bulged through his dress shirt, finally coming to toy with his tie. “Mhm. You missed lunch today, you know.”

“Did I?” His voice was husky—deep, the subtle rumble of his baritone voice going straight to your core causing your thighs to squeeze against one another—an action that didn’t go unnoticed by Wriothesley, who’s palms grew hungry on you, manuvering behind you to grope thick handfuls of your rear shamelessly. “I’ve been so swamped with work that it must’ve slipped my mind. But . . . I’m sure you understand, right, baby?” His arm that was poised above your head lowered, his partially gloved thumb stroking at the supple flesh of your cheek. “Why don’t you let me make it up to you, yeah? . . . I have an idea that will make us both happy.”

You had an idea as to what he was alluding to, but nonetheless, you nodded with a hum of agreement. This made Wriothesley smirk in response, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so that he may lean in and press a kiss to your temple.

“Turn around.”

His dominant undertone left little room for argument as you did what he asked, turning around so that you were facing the metal door of his office. Without another moment's hesitation, you felt yourself pushed against it, your body pinned against Wriothesley's heated form with your cheek smushed against the cold metal face of the door. His body pressed firmly against yours, and you felt something unmistakable grinding into your ass, all the while his sharp canines drug themselves up your neck, a silent warning to stay put.

And you did.

Hot, sloppy kisses trailed themselves down the back of your neck as greedy palms groped and squeezed at your body wherever they could reach—almost as though they were attempting to alleviate tension with every heated touch. Sensing his descent, you eventually heard him drop to his knees behind you, his gloved hands reaching up to lift your skirt and turn it over to expose your plump, pliant rear. A growl, something animalistic and ravenous, came from the back of his throat, and one of those large palms rose for a split second before slapping your right cheek, making you squeal and making Wriothesley laugh.

“Careful, Y/N.” He chided, using his palms to massage the abused flesh as an imprint of his hand—ringed fingers and all—slowly began to appear on your ass. “This door may be thick, but this chamber echos. You don’t want the guards and—Gods know who else—hearing you on the other side, do you~?”

You felt your face heat up against the frigid door’s surface, now acutely aware of the silence on the other side, which meant his guards were now undoubtedly listening. Nonetheless, you nodded, casting a shy glance over your shoulder to your lover, who was already gazing up at you with half-lidded eyes and that salacious smirk on his face that just made your knees go weak and your folds gush with arousal.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that though,” He stated nonchalantly, leaning over to press a soft kiss against your ass as sinful digits reached up to peel your already soaked panties down your thighs until they pooled at your ankles. Wriothesley groaned inwardly, his pupils blown, as he used his thumbs to spread you apart in all your glory, admiring how your folds glistened in the dim lights of the lower floor of his office. “*I can’t promise that I’ll be going easy on you either, baby.”

Without saying another word, his hands reached out and took firm hold of both your cheeks, spreading them wide before plunging straight into your dripping folds. Immediately, your knees were buckling beneath you as a pleasured mewl escaped your lips, your nails dragging against the metal surface in an attempt to find purchase. With his hands leaving your ass to wrap around the front of your thighs, his tongue was unrelenting as it ruthlessly claimed every inch of your pussy to himself, drawing you closer to him so he could continue to devour you. His tongue was hot, heavy, and drooling as it spread you wide open, encircling your clit, and slurping up whatever delicious goodness you had to offer. His nose pressed deep into your wetness, drowning in your depths, but he did not seem to care in the slightest. He wanted more—craved more—and one thing about Wriothesley was that he was a man who got what he wanted.

His tongue and ravenous lips wrapped around your tender nub and sucked away like a starving man enjoying the sweetest nectar of life, leaving you a moaning mess above him and unable to stop your hips from moving on their own as you practically fucked yourself against his face. You didn’t care if the guards—or anyone else, for that matter—heard you. All you could focus on was how his sweltering and deft mouth had you practically creaming onto his selfish brims already.

“Wrio~!” You keened, nearly losing your footing had it not been for Wriothesley keeping you firmly in place by his grip. “I-I can’t! I-It’s too much!” You whimpered just as another cry drew from your lips from a jolt of pleasure from your nethers.

In response, you felt another sharp spank rain down on your ass, and Wriothesley finally withdrew, but only so that he could snarl out, “You can and you will. Fucking take it, Y/N.” He was breathless, panting—truly, a man starved in his most primal state.

He pulled away momentarily, strings of your arousal clinging to the lower half of his face, which was glistening in your translucent juices, to turn to your inner thighs. His jaw widened before clamping down harshly on your once supple flesh, biting and sucking the blood to it’s surface to leave furious marks in his wake.

“Wriothesley!” You wept with delight and surprise at the lewd action that made your folds rub together, and you were unable to ignore the disgustingly lewd squelching sound that came from your cunt.

He repeated the same action, this time on your ass cheek, taking the pliant flesh between his teeth and delivering yet another primal bite to your soft skin, effectively marking you. “Shit, Y/N.” His heated breath wafted over your clit, making you clench around nothing as he huffed and panted like a mutt against your thigh, an action that your attentive lover obviously noticed. “The things you do to me . . .~”

Without saying anything more, he plunged back into you, even more intense than before. With his deft fingers reaching around your front and rubbing quick, merciless circles onto your clit, he was aiming at his sole target, your sopping hole. Pushing his tongue in and out of your wetness, he slurped every last drop of your sweet juices onto his tongue. He was milking you like a machine—using your clit as the trigger to release more and more of your translucent fluids onto his tongue, which he rapaciously gluped down. All the while, your toes curled in your shoes, and as every one of his hot, heavy pants exhaled through his nose, you were able to feel it against your pretty asshole.

“Wrio, wrio, baby, please! R-Right there, I-I’m gonna . .” Your hasty pleas were cut off, your hand reaching back to tangle itself into your boyfriend’s smokey locks, holding him in place as you basically rode his tongue.

You felt him chuckling against your folds before you heard him, unable to stop the sharp cry that escaped you from the sudden vibration. His hand left your clit, however, it was soon replaced with his mouth in favor of meeting your hand with his own. He pried your death grip from his locks, intertwining his fingers with your own as his head shook back and forth between your thighs. His lips suckled away at you in such an unforgiving way that it made your head spin and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Anyone within the immediate vicinity could definitely hear the unabashed slurping and squleching sounds emanating from his efforts as they reverberated through his office's chambers.

He took your hand in his and massaged calming circles around your knuckles until you finally came undone in front of him, unable to contain your overwhelming euphoria. A series of cries and mewls left your lips, leaving you breathless as your juices came flooding out of you, drenching your lover’s face and attire in a torrent, which he happily gulped down. Had it not been for his grip on your frame, you most definitely would’ve collapsed, but he held you firmly against him, even using his face to support your weight at one point like your own personal seat—because it was. After all, he was yours just as much as you were his, and he’d be damned if anything tried to change that.

His hurried movements subsided during your high, his tongue now languidly stroking your folds to carry you through your blissful daze; still, you could not control your hips from lurching each time he touched your tender, pulsating nub. Before long, he began to back off, giving you some leverage and giving himself space to finally breathe. His hot breath wafted against your behind, his chest rising and falling with each breath, finally being kind enough to himself to give him the sweet, sweet oxygen his lungs had been begging for.

Slowly, he rose from behind you, your half-lidded gaze meeting his own through the tears that formed on your lash line, which he wiped away with a swipe of his thumb.

“Y’still with me, pretty?” He whispered in a honeyed drawl, placing a soft kiss against your shoulder as the hand that was holding your own moved to your bicep to rub soothing circles along your arm.

You nodded, albeit weakly, still recovering from the mind-shattering orgasm he had just put you through.

“Y’feel better now, Wrio?”

He responded with a hearty chuckle, rolling his neck in a tantilizing way that exposed his throbbing Adam’s apple and scarred throat. His gaze met your own again, this time with a familiar spark burning behind his dusky hues, “Ahh, a’litte bit.”

He leaned over you once again, his forearm resting above your head as his chest pressed against your back. You gasped, your hips jolting as you felt his rock-hard bulge pressing against you, just barely managing to graze your sopping folds.

“Still feeling a little ‘tense’ here . . . but you’d be willing to help me out,” He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. Although you couldn’t see him, you could practically feel the smirk beaming from his stupidly handsome face.

“Right, baby?”

Oh, he was going to be the death of you someday.

ⓒ vampiie 2024 — all rights reserved. please do not repost my work outside of tumblr, modify, or translate my work in any form/means. please do not share my work to tiktok or any other site.

#genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #wriothesley #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley headcanons #wriothesley imagines #vampiiebitez

[bet-on-me-13]

Reformed Dan but misunderstandings suck

So, Dan has been Reformed for Years at this point. You could go with the Fandom Typical version of just chilling out, or you could go with the AGIT version of the Redemption. Either way, Dan is fully reformed and trying to find his way in the World.

Unfortunately, not everybody knows/believes him.

You know all those Time Traveling Heroes who came back to stop some great catastrophe? That was Dan.

Impulse is fucking terrified of this guy, cause he Grew Up in the Central City Stronghold and saw Phantom tear down the Walls protecting the City in person.

Booster Gold grew up in the Metropolis Stronghold, so while he never really saw Phantom in his timeline he still did know of him. I mean, obviously, he murdered every hero on the planet and subjugated most of the world, but he doesn't have much personal stake in that.

Eobard Thawn hates Phantom. Thawn himself grew up in a world where Phantom killed every Hero in the world, and he was terrified that Phantom would track him down when he tried to become the new Flash. But once he became a Walking Paradox he saw as Time itself changed to erase Phantom from existence, he got really jealous. Why did Time decide Phantom was bad enough to erase, why not him!? He's Evil! He's a Terror on the Timeline! He deserves Clockworks attention dammit!

And then, they discover evidence that Phantom has come back in Time,

So now, any and all Time Travelers are trying to find the guy who single-handedly was the Apocalypse, and want to kill him to save the world. Or out of Jealousy in Thawns case.

Either way, no matter where Dan goes to try and settle down, a bunch of annoying Heroes always find him and attack him, yelling about "Stopping his Plans" and "Saving the Timeline!" And "It should have been me dammit!"

Honestly Thawn is the most annoying one, he just runs in and rants at him about how he is jealous of how much attention Clockwork gave him. Dude, just sdmit your crush already and leave me alone. (I'm not sorry)

#Dp x dc #Dpxdc #Dc x dp #Dcxdp #Danny phantom #Dc #Dcu #Dan Phantom #Dark Danny #Retired Dark Danny #Redeemed Dark Danny #Redeemed Dan #Thawn has a major Villain Crush #He will absolutely never admit to it though #Dan just wants to be a farmer #Why do these guys keep running in and ruining his crops? #Oh shit is that Booster Gold? #That one Janitor who didn't recognize him that one time he snuck into the Metropolis Strongholds Museum? #Wow dude how is he doing? Is he still using that Time Travel Tech Dan helped hom steal from the exhibits for shits and giggles? #Dan thought he was amusing and helped steal the Time Machine #Even Dark Danny appreciates a funny guy like him

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 1

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Summary: The Atreides daughter is sent off to Giedi Prime to marry the Harkonnen heir in an attempt to quell the feuding Great Houses. The bride, however, must prove her grit and earn the respect of her new family if she is to survive her new life. Perhaps she will find that she had more Harkonnen in her than she thought.

TW: none (for now)

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut (just not in this chapter lmao), No use of y/n, Original Characters, cannon what cannon

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Please bear with me, it has been ages since I've written anything and this is my first ever work of fanfiction. I've never written in the second person before so if you catch any mistakes, especially in verb tenses, please let me know. English is not my first language. Also, this might start out a bit slow but I promise things will pick up soon.

The smell of grass and the crashing waves of Caladan brought you comfort as you stood before the starship that had been rented from the Spacing Guild.

Your brother had insisted on accompanying you to Giedi Prime, but a round trip would have been unnecessarily expensive, even with the vast wealth of your Great House. Besides, it would be foolish to deliver the heir of House Atreides to the home world of their sworn enemies. It was bad enough they had to send you there.

"Give them hell," Paul teased as he hugged you goodbye.

You laughed, but you knew his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He had faith in your strength and ferocity, but he had much less faith in the hospitality of the Harkonnens.

"I'll miss you," you pull away and try to give him a reassuring smile but you, yourself, are not so certain of your fate.

You made your way to your mother, next in line to bid you farewell.

"Remember your training." Lady Jessica held your face and planted a tender kiss on your forehead. She had already given you all the advice she could.

You take her hands in yours and kiss them. "I will," you tell her solemnly.

You finally make it to your father, whose eyes are already welling with tears.

"My darling princess," his voice cracks as he lays a hand on your cheek. The Duke may seem a stoic man to most, but those who truly knew him knew he had a big heart.

Perhaps it is because you are one of those people that you finally feel that weight in your chest that you've been dreading since the signing of your marriage pact. It will be a truly long time before you would see your family again. If you could ever see them at all.

The Duke waves at an attendant who approaches with a silver tray. Leto takes the dagger resting on it and places it in your hands. "To remind you that you will always be an Atreides, that you will always be my daughter."

You let your tears fall as you hold the gift close to your chest.

"Don't cry now," your father pulls you into a hug, hoping to hide his own tears, "or I might never let you go."

You let a laugh slip through the sobs. You knew it was already decided and it is your duty to fulfill. The Sisterhood and the Emperor himself endorsed the match. Nothing could change it now.

The harsh light of Giedi Prime's black sun assaulted your eyes as you made your way down the starship's gangplank. The stark, high-contrast black and white made everything a pain to look at. You were thankful for the veils of your travelling gowns for providing you at least some shade.

You were greeted by House Harkonnen's steward, Jaromir Naggul, and swiftly led into the imposing, Brutalist fortress of their stronghold. You were almost happy to escape the infrared outside.

"Your belongings are being sent to your new quarters as we speak," Jaromir, a lanky but stately man, informs you. "You may change out of your traveling clothes and rest there. The Baron will receive you in the throne room in the afternoon."

You note his accent and the mild contempt in his voice, as if you were an inconvenience.

"This is Iassa," he gestures to one of the servants that had been following you through the halls. "She is your assigned slave. Should you need anything, you may tell her."

The word almost knocks the breath out of you.

You eyes turn to Iassa in her pale gray robes and you give her a polite nod. She hastily curtsies in return.

You knew the Harkonnens and even the Emperor kept slaves, but you suppose it never occurred to you that you would be charged with one yourself.

"Of course," Jaromir continues, "any of the servants in the fortress will be at your command, but Iassa will be in waiting for you in particular."

"Of course," you reply coldly.

"You will be staying in the guest wing for now," Jaromir says as he shows you the door to your quarters. "Of course, until your wedding. When you will then be moved to the na-Baron's apartments."

"...of course," you repeat, grateful again for your veils that they hide your dread.

You are silent as Iassa helps you into a black gown for your audience with the baron. It is the fashionable color in the Harkonnen home world. Although there were many other 'fashionable' traits on Giedi Prime, this was the only one you felt comfortable adopting right now. The complete lack of hair in every individual you had seen was certainly unsettling, but you sensed it would be rude to speak about it.

"What is the na-Baron like?" you ask.

Iassa pauses her fastening of your dress, she swallows. "He is a fearsome warrior, my lady," she keeps her gaze averted, "handsome and popular with the people."

Her voice was shaky but she seemed genuine. You only wonder if those words hold the same implications here as they do back home.

You look over to Iassa as she fetches your shoes. It's not difficult to see that she fears you. You cannot help but feel that that is all there is. You are still an off-worlder. An Atreides no less. She harbors no respect for you.

You take care to style your hair in the fashions of Caladan, fastening a falcon-like pin at the back of your head. The symbol of your house. Perhaps it is a risky choice, to be seen as defiant by the baron should he notice, but you could already feel the black sun beginning to drain the life out of you. The thrill of quiet defiance would have to sustain you for now.

Jaromir returns in time to fetch you and you are led to the throne room.

The baron's grotesque floating body looms over you and his subjects. You had never met any of the Harkonnens before but you were sure that was him.

"Welcome to your new home, Lady Atreides," the Baron utters your last name with thinly veiled loathing. "Let me present my nephew, Feyd-Rautha."

A tall muscular young man steps forward. Stately and regal as a Harkonnen could be, he looks over you with condescending eyes.

He certainly looked like a warrior, and you could see how the people of Giedi Prime could find him handsome, but you find yourself wanting to spit in his face.

"Forgive me for not greeting you when you landed, my lady," the na-Baron bows to you. His gravelly voice sends a chill down your spine, "I was preoccupied at the time. I trust you have settled well?"

You curtsy in turn, "I'm sure my lord had important duties to attend to. I am grateful for your hospitality. My rooms are very comfortable."

"Do not find them too comfortable young lady," the Baron calls from afloat his chair, "your wedding celebrations are to begin and you will be sharing rooms with my nephew before long."

Feyd-Rautha smirks at this and you are almost willing to cast decorum aside to slap it off his face.

"Tomorrow, your groom will take part in the arena to demonstrate his prowess as a worthy husband and leader, as per the traditions of our house," the Baron announces. "I'm sure you will make a point to attend."

"I would not miss it, dear Baron."

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha smut #dune #dune part two #house harkonnen #house atreides #leto atreides #lady jessica #paul atreides #baron vladimir harkonnen #duke leto atreides #austin butler #jessica atreides #space-mango-company #fic: stranger

[the-broken-pen]

The hero was getting blood all over the villains nice jacket.

“I’m sorry about the blood—“ they murmured, and the villain hushed them.

“We’re almost there. Just—just stay still, okay?”

If the hero didn’t know better, they’d say the villain almost sounded afraid.

“It’s okay. M’fine.”

The villain breathed a harsh laugh, cradling the hero to their chest as they walked.

“Yes, you certainly look fine bleeding everywhere.”

There was that tone again. The hero frowned. The villain had never used that tone, especially not with them, and they had no idea what it was—

They barged into the villains apartment, as the hero realized the villain was concerned.

Oh.

The villain set them down on a couch, gently, but the hero still flinched. The villain apologized, soft and gentle, and ran their hand over the wound, assessing the damage.

The villains face went carefully blank.

The hero’s head spun, just a little, and they closed their eyes to fight it off. A moment later, they opened them to find the villain wrapping their side.

Their eyebrows crinkled.

“You—when did you get those?” Their voice cracked.

The villain looked up at them.

“Just a minute ago. You passed out,” they said calmly.

Their fingers continued deftly wrapping the bandage on the hero’s side.

“Wait. Why are you,” the hero grit their teeth as the villain brushed against the wound. “Why are you helping me.”

The villain laughed.

“For someone so observant, you miss a lot of things.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

The villain shook their head.

“I knew you were a bit obtuse, but darling, really. Work with me.”

They tied off the bandages, helping the hero sit up against the arm of the couch. The villain held their gaze, cool and collected and concerned, all at once.

“Your powers stem from emotions, yes?”

The hero nodded, once.

“So positive emotions make you stronger. They can heal you, right?”

The hero had tried to keep that bit of information under wraps. Not only could they heal themselves if they were happy, they could heal anyone. They didn’t want to end up some tool to be used in some military stronghold. Still, they healed civilians when no one was looking.

If they were mad, though? They could destroy anything, tear concrete in half, send metal into dust.

The hero cleared their throat. “Yes. Positive emotions can heal me. Not feeling super happy right now, so I’ll get back to you on that—“

The villain sat back on their heels.

“Do you trust me?”

The hero blinked at them. They were ready to give them some bullshit answer about how they could never trust the villain and never would; but that wasn’t true. The villain had saved them, more times than they could count.

And between the agency and the villain? Well, the hero knew who they would choose.

“Yes,” they said hesitantly, and the villain kissed them.

Warmth flooded them, and they reached for the villain, tugging them closer, and the villain smiled against their mouth.

The wound on their side began to close, and the villain felt it. They smiled, pleased with themself, like a cat.

“I give you positive emotions, huh,” they said, still grinning.

“For someone so observant, you can be so obtuse—“ the villain kissed them, again, to get them to shut up. This time, the hero smiled.

The wound closed further.

“I didn’t know you liked me,” the hero murmured.”

“I tolerate you. I just happen to hate everyone else.”

The hero laughed, side twinging with pain.

The villain checked the half closed wound, then turned back to the hero.

“Kiss it better?”

The villain rolled their eyes.

This time, when the villain kissed them, the hero didn’t let them stop.

#writing #writing community #creative writing #snippet #angst #heroes and villains #fic writing #ficlet #writing prompt #hero whumpee #healer #healing power #kisses #hurt/aftermath #hurt/comfort

[dottores]

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine, dottore.

notes: this wasn't as long as i wanted for it to be but im just happy i got it out on time aufhdasuidfh i didn't think i'd be able to. i’m v sorry i haven’t answered asks yet! i promise i’ll get to it this weekend, i just got home

DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE

“Hand the boy over.”

You recognized the men standing at the end of the hall now that they had come a bit closer—two nobles who had been down in the ballroom for the event. You didn’t know their first names but Artem had pointed them out as being part of the Skliar Family of western Snezhnaya, a family that was particularly anti-Fatui and loud about it… when the Fatui weren’t around, of course. They were the two younger sons of the family, a few years older than you.

Artem had been surprised that the family even showed up and you figured that they probably had ulterior motives…

… but this?

Your arms tightened a bit around the sleepy boy resting in them and he shifted a bit, stirring at the movement. He was observant, unfortunately, and seemed to realize very quickly from the tenseness in your shoulders that something was wrong. You wanted to tell him to go back to sleep but you couldn’t push out the words from your lips before he was shifting around.

When he glanced behind him to see what was happening, his whole body started trembling, red eyes widening at the sight of the two men. He didn’t cry or let out any fearful noises, it was a sort of petrified fear that made you wish you could hide him away until you figured out what to do and how to handle this.

You looked down briefly, past his face to where his legs were hanging on either side of your body, remembering how they were all cut up and bleeding to the point it was clearly painful for him to walk on them. You figured that maybe he was just clumsy and tripped running up or down a set of stairs but then you remembered how he had been hiding when you saw him, pressed into the shadows of an alcove. 

They’d been chasing him. 

“Oi, girl, did you hear me? Hand the boy over,” the shorter of the two demanded harshly, taking another step forward. 

You could see now from the shorter distance the anxiety that riddled his body. His fingers were trembling and his eyes were darting around as if monsters were going to sprout from the shadows and tear him to pieces.

They were bold for attacking the Fatui while in their most protected stronghold, if not a bit foolish—a part of you questioned whether or not they might be drunk, you had noticed some of the younger aristocrats guzzling down alcohol to try to make the night bearable enough to get through. You wondered if they knew that the Ninth Harbinger was naught but a few feet away from them behind the wall on their left. You might’ve commended them for their bravery were they not targeting a child. 

You smiled thinly. “No.”

“No?” The taller man asked, voice low.

He moved toward you—you wondered if he meant to be threatening but you didn’t see a vision on him, and even if there was one hidden somewhere, it was hard to feel threatened when you knew that the Regrator was lurking behind a door right to your side. He had to know what was happening, you could see a shadow right beneath the crack at the bottom of the door, signaling he was standing there listening to the confrontation and ready to step in, but you figured he wasn’t making himself known because he wanted to see how you handled this. 

A test. You hated tests. 

You figured you’d be able to handle it if it came down to a fight. Your father and grandfather had been quick to teach you how to immobilize grown men considering you’d be taking over your family’s position in a few years and would have to be able to drag them to the cells without them overpowering you. You would rather it not come to a fight though, your family’s hydro art was dangerous and very easy to butcher with.

“That is what I said,” you replied after a moment and then added: “If you are hard of hearing I can suggest you to a doctor, I’m sure he would be willing to take a look for you. Although, I do warn you, I’ve heard his methods are rather… unsavory.”

His methods—another subject that you had yet to broach with yourself even though you knew very well that you had to think about it. You had to force yourself to keep your chin raised as you stared at the two of them for their reactions; you had heard terrible, terrible things about the Doctor while you had traveled northward through Snezhnaya. Brutal experiments, missing children, twisted creatures and monsters that he lets free from his labs when he decides them to be a failure or drained of use. 

How was a man like that your soulmate?

You used to wonder, as a kid, what having a soulmate like your stepfather said about your mother. Now, you know that their bond wasn’t even real but yours was, and you were tied to one of the most dangerous and wicked and cold-hearted men in all of Teyvat. 

What did that say about you?

Were you a bad person? Maybe not yet, you didn’t think so at least, but maybe you had the potential of being one, if the gods thought you fit to be with him.

The taller man was livid at your implied threat of Dottore, livid and scared, reaching for something at his side—a dagger?—and you remembered then how Artem had made a comment about how many of the antagonistic families had lost people to the Fatui, particularly to the Doctor, the Friar and the Marionette. You tensed, ready to use your vision at a moment’s notice, feeling the energy seep through you as you summoned it to your defense but the man never came toward you. 

Instead, he was stopped by the shorter one.

“Hold on,” he said quietly. “That girl, she was with the Melnyks at the ball. Their heir introduced her as his fiancée.”

The taller man scoffed. “The Melnyks are so in bed with the Fatui that they’re willing to share their women now,” he spat, shooting you a look that was nothing short of derisive.

You inhaled sharply at the blatant insult. You had never been so directly disrespected like that before—in the courts of Fontaine, the nobles liked to keep their insults as passive and well-mannered as possible so that they could not be called out for making disparaging remarks about another noble family, which could cause severe financial or political trouble depending on what family had been slighted. 

You were a frequent victim to those veiled insults, dealing with underhanded comments about who the Black Cells would be passed to should your grandfather pass, implying that you were unfit to be the Warden. And then, even worse, the ones where people would make offhand observations about how maybe you would be the perfect fit for Warden considering you don’t have a soulmate, because in Fontaine, it is known that only the cursed and the heartless are not given their fated partner by Celestia. You thought that if they knew who your soulmate was, they would double down on their beliefs.

“I am not something to be shared,” you said, the thin smile on your lips now void of emotion, “and I am a lot more than just a girl who is someone’s fiancée. You will find that out soon enough if you continue to test me.”

Finally, the shorter man seemed to notice the vision laying against your chest, fashioned as a pendant on a necklace and he hesitated, glancing between you and the taller man once as if debating on warning him against acting rashly. 

Well, that at least confirmed that they did not have visions. 

You felt significantly more confident at the realization, letting your tense shoulders relax and your arms loosen around the little boy—feeling your change in demeanor, he also seemed to relax, his tight grip on your hair releasing as he laid his head back down against your shoulder. 

Did he really have that much trust in you?

But then, before the taller man could explode on you or the shorter man could warn him not to, their expressions shifted from anger and concern to downright fear—except they were not looking at you, they were looking directly behind you.

Before you could even turn to look, long and thin fingers wrapped around your shoulders, nails digging harshly into your skin—distantly, you thought for sure it would be bruised tomorrow but you were more anxious at the sudden new arrival and whether or not they were an ally or enemy. 

They leaned over your shoulder a bit and as you glanced to the side with wide eyes, you caught sight of another head of silvery-blue hair, cropped short like the boy in your arms. Red eyes gleamed cruelly from within the two holes of the black and white mask he wore, a hint of something unstable simmering right beneath the surface. 

“What a treat,” the man behind you said, voice lifting into a giggle that made your hair stand on end. “I had just run out of bodies to run my tests on.”

The storm was nigh. 

Dottore grimaced as the winds whipped around him wildly. Above him, the tall trees of the forest creaked and groaned, threatening to topple over beneath the harsh gusts. The sun had long set but his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, sweeping across the forest floor as he followed the path from Zapolyanry Palace to the estate he owned in the area, making his way to the ruins that were just off the path.

They had yet to find the Iota segment. Dottore knew that he was still in the area of the ruins he was exploring, he could sense that much from the inherent tracking system he had for each of the segments but they hadn’t reached the ruins yet. He wondered how Epsilon hadn’t been able to find him if he was in the ruins, unless he had wandered off and then made his way back when he realized that the sun had set and a storm was coming but something didn’t sit right with him about that. 

Either way, it was making Dottore antsy. He didn’t like it. The last time he had lost a segment, it had been a situation just like this a little over four hundred years ago. He felt unsettled.

“You found her.”

Epsilon’s voice didn’t even edge on accusing as he watched Dottore carefully. 

He had his answer, he just wanted a confirmation. 

Dottore did not intend on giving him one. 

“I did not.”

Epsilon let out a small puff of amusement, nothing short of a gibe, eyeing Dottore from the corner of his eye—he was the only one of the older segments that didn’t wear a mask, the few times he did was when he was posing as Dottore in Harbinger meetings or on missions that he didn’t want to handle. He could tell from his expression that he didn’t believe a word Dottore said, if anything he thought entertaining that Dottore was trying to deny it and that only made him even more irritated.

“We all felt it,” Epsilon murmured. “The others might not have figured out exactly what it was but I did. I’m sure Lambda did too. I advise you to choose wisely as to whether or not you would prefer him or I at your side when dealing with her. We both know his desired course of action and he will do whatever’s necessary to ensure that our research is not impeded.”

“As he was created for,” Dottore said coolly, “and thus is expected of him.”

“Even at the cost of the life of your soulmate?” Epsilon questioned, studying him intensely for a reaction.

Your. That was an intentional choice of words. All of the other segments referred to you as their soulmate as well. It was never Dottore’s soulmate, it was our soulmate. Even Epsilon had appealed to him in the past by stressing that it was not just his decision as your existence affected all of them.

This was an attempt at manipulation—a carefully picked choice of word that would ignite all of the possessive and selfish tendencies that had been ingrained in Dottore ever since he was living on his own after his village case him out, hoarding anything and everything he could get his hands on, and then again, after he had enrolled in the Akademiya, dealing with people leeching onto his research to try to get credit.

What’s his was his and you, unfortunately, fell under that category as much as he might loathe to admit it. 

“I can handle Lambda.” Was all Dottore said in response to Epsilon’s comment, dismissing his warning.

Epsilon made a noise as if he didn’t quite believe Dottore. Dottore didn’t acknowledge it. They continued on in silence for a few moments, the wind howling around them as they crossed the path into the old ruins of a temple of the previous Cryo Archon—crumbling towers reached high into the sky, disappearing into the clouds, and a massive derelict statue that was teetering dangerously in the wind. The snow had started to fall, they were running out of time to find the Iota segment but Epsilon didn’t look the slightest bit worried and Dottore frowned a bit, suspicion itching at the back of his mind.

“You should at least allow the younger segments to meet her,” Epsilon finally continued, completely unperturbed by the threat the storm posed to one of the younger segments. “They will be dysfunctional when they realize they never got the chance to meet her and then you will have three useless segments to figure out what to do with.”

“None of the segments will know that she is here, much less meet her,” Dottore said sharply. “I have information that needs to be obtained from her and then she is going back to Fontaine where she will stay, are we clear?” 

“So you admit that she is here,” Epsilon smiled thinly, as if that was exactly what he wanted to hear, and Dottore gave him a cold look.

“Enough of your games, Epsilon. What is it that you are trying to achieve with this conversation?” 

Epsilon didn’t respond. Instead, his red gaze trailed from him to somewhere behind Dottore. A sinking feeling in his stomach, Dottore turned around to see what he was looking at. Instantly, his eyes fell upon a familiar young boy standing right behind a pillar, watching them with wide eyes and a hopeful expression. 

Iota. 

“She’s here?” he whispered as if Dottore had just proclaimed the coming of the Celestial gods unto Teyvat, and then, more excited, he lit up: “She’s here?!”

Dottore realized, very quickly, that he might’ve just been played for a fool by his own segments. Without responding to the Iota segment, Dottore looked to the right where Epsilon was still standing. Epsilon barely acknowledged Dottore as he stepped forward with a small smile and upturned eyes. 

“There you are,” he said. “We’ve been looking for you.”

He did not sound particularly relieved or frustrated—if anything, he sounded pleased. Dottore watched as he patted Iota on the head once and then turned to look at Dottore, with an expression that edged at nothing short of triumphant. 

He remembered how Gamma had looked so nervous, unable to meet his eyes—he had thought it was because he was anxious over losing two of the younger segments but he realized, quickly, that it might’ve been because he was anxious about having to lie to Dottore. 

Iota had been waiting for them at the ruins and Dottore knew the young segment well enough to know that unless given direct orders (sometimes even when given direct orders), the boy would panic and wander trying to find his way back until he got himself so lost that Dottore would have to shut him down until they could figure out where he was and bring him back. Someone must have told him not to move from the ruins until they arrived, and that someone…

Dottore stared at Epsilon, catching the sly look in his eyes as he turned his gaze back to Dottore. Had he planned this? Had he schemed out a situation to get Dottore alone long enough to force him to admit that you were in the palace in front of the Iota segment? Would he really go so far as to put one of the younger segments at risk to do so? 

Yes, Dottore realized, watching the unmoved expression on Epsilon’s face as he watched Dottore realize what had just happened—he absolutely would because he knew that it was the only thing that Dottore would take seriously enough to handle himself, otherwise he would have just sent Epsilon alone to handle whatever it was. 

More than that, Epsilon knew that with the incoming storm and a missing young segment that the situation would remind him of the one that happened all of those years ago with the Beta Segment and Dottore would be in an uncomfortable and agitated state of mind, more susceptible to snapping and admitting what Epsilon wanted him to say. 

Conniving little-

Dottore’s tongue scraped against his teeth as he bit back a slew of curses, rage sweeping over him like the white water torrents of a rushing river.

Gods be damned about the war and needing as many spare hands as possible for his research, Dottore had half a mind to deactivate all of the segments and start anew once you were gone so he didn’t have to deal with any more insubordination and disrespect from himself. 

Though he found that the thought of you being gone in any way sat poorly in his chest. Livid, he realized that you might’ve already managed to strengthen the bond just through the two conversations he had with you. 

Teeth grinding together, he forced himself to turn on his heel and make his way back to the palace before anything else could go wrong with your unexpected arrival in Snezhnaya. He would get his segments out of Zapolyarny Palace and drag them back to the estate, leaving you at the mercy of the Regrator until he could finish his briefings with the segments and send them all far, far from Snezhnaya. 

You distinctly felt like a mouse cornered by a cat, except instead of being the one hunted by the predator, you were watching another mouse about to get devoured, knowing that you would be next. It was with a sickening type of engrossment that had you unable to draw your eyes from the scene in front of you, fear crawled up your spine, seeping into your blood, but your feet were rooted to the ground below you.

The man—who you noticed also looked particularly like Dottore, except he was closer to your age—had slunk past you to approach the two men at the opposite end of the hall. A part of you wanted to put the boy down and run back to your room, locking the door to hide from the shitshow about to go down but he was clutching at you like some sort of lifeline, little fingers gripping the cloth on the back of your dress as he hid his face from view. And even if he wasn’t, you had a feeling that your feet wouldn’t cooperate if you tried.

“Kappa,” an unfamiliar voice whispered from somewhere behind you, urgent and worried.

Your gaze snapped to the side, eyes falling upon another kid with silver blue curls and red eyes, a terrible burn scar covering the whole left side of his face. He was young, no older than fifteen or sixteen, and there was an anxious expression on his face, brows furrowed and lips pressed together as his eyes darted around.

Another child of Dottore’s? It didn’t make any sense, did he have three children? Or was the older one his brother? Or were they experiments? Your head hurt and you were suddenly very, very tired—you needed to lay down. The night’s events were finally catching up to you and your body was beginning to lag, crying in protest as you continued to stand rooted in the middle of the hall. Your room was so close but it was not close enough, you would have to get past the masked man to reach the door and you had a feeling he would not take kindly to your attempted escape.

And what had the other boy called the little one? Kappa? Why was that so familiar? 

You let out a shaky breath, trying to think.

Kappa, that was so familiar… one of the words from the old tongue? The ones that Dottore used to accidentally pass over to you? 

But was that even possible? You would have to check your notebook but you were pretty sure that the first time you received the word Kappa was right around the time you had received your first word from him and that was what? Eight years ago? 

There was no way this child was older than five.

What was going on?

“You-” the taller man choked out as the new arrival drew closer. “You’re-”

“You’re bold for attacking little Kappa right under our noses,” he mused, a lilt to his tone that had you on edge. He reached forward, snatching the man’s chin between two fingers as he forcibly craned his head to the left—examining him like some sort of test subject. “I’ve been trying to get Hearsays up and running again but I just don’t have enough contenders after the last incident… I suppose you’ll do well. Hehe, you’ll at least make for good entertainment, one way or another.”

You watched as he dragged his nails down his cheeks, leaning a line of blood in his wake before he turned his attention to the shorter man with a look in his eyes that was nothing short of gleeful.

“You simply won't do.” He clicked his tongue a few times in disappointment, shaking his head in a sharp and jerky motion that looked borderline painful. “I’ll just pass you off to one of the others for them to run some tests on. I think Rho is starting a new batch of experiments soon, yeah? Isn’t he, Gamma? Gamma?”

He was suddenly agitated as he glanced backward, waiting for a response. The other new arrival—the younger one with anxious eyes and twitching fingers—looked caught off guard at being pulled into the conversation.

Finally, he nodded, throat spasming as he swallowed. “With the residue, yes. The last batch failed.”

“Perfect,” he smiled sharply, and though you could only see half of his smile, even beneath the dim lighting you could see the rows of sharp teeth lining his mouth. “He can get the scraps.”

“Kappa, are you okay?” Gamma returned his attention to the boy in your arms, trying to grab his arm to look at him but every time he tried, Kappa shifted away, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Kappa, c’mon, he’s going to be so mad, just talk to me.”

“He’s okay, for the most part,” you said quietly.

At the sound of your voice, Gamma drew back, red eyes guarded and nervous. He looked at you as if you were a possible enemy, shoulders tense and body language closed off. He looked to be reaching for something at his side—you wondered if he was armed but his fingers were trembling. Even so, you decided to try to calm him down, not wanting another agitated person to deal with.

“What does that mean?” he asked, glancing between you and Kappa as if you had been the one to hurt the boy.

“His knees are cut up and bleeding, I was going to bring him to my room to clean them up. He was having trouble walking on them,” you explained, keeping your voice steady as you watched him carefully, trying to figure out how you would defend yourself while holding a kid in your arm.

But it was for no need, Gamma looked a bit at ease at your words but he frowned as he reached to hold Kappa’s leg to check out the wound but Kappa whimpered and snapped his leg away, accidentally jamming his knee into your side. You bit back a grunt, wincing at the small bony knee digging into your side but only rubbed his back, trying to soothe him.

Maybe his legs were worse than you thought. Concerned, you glanced down and briefly wondered why he wasn’t voicing his pain if that was the case. 

“One to ten?” Gamma suddenly asked, holding up his hands to show Kappa. The boy pressed his cheek against your shoulder, watching Gamma as he lifted two fingers, then three, then four, then five. At eight, Kappa pointed and Gamma looked severely distressed. 

“He’s going to be so mad.” Gamma looked like he was on the verge of tears. “Kappa, how many times have we told you that you have to say something when you’re hurt?”

He turned his face away again, pressing it into the crook of your neck and Gamma looked around nervously. “Well… he seems to like you. Kappa doesn’t really like anyone so I mean…”

Gamma suddenly floundered for words as you raised your hand to pat Kappa’s back again, red eyes focusing righting on your pinky finger. 

For a moment, he just stood there, gaping and wide eyed but then his expression shifted as he glanced over to where the masked man was still mocking and terrorizing the two aristocrats from the Skliar family. 

In an instant, Gamma looked like he was going to throw up, face pale and ghastly and you could only stare at him, trying to figure out what had caused the abrupt change in demeanor. 

You had a distinct feeling that it had to do with the presence of the masked man and that made your stomach churn with nerves, eyes darting over to him.

“Oh gods, you’re-” he began, voice catching over his words as he stared at you, taking a step back as if he was on the verge of fleeing. Then, his gaze darted up to the masked man he had arrived with, who you could feel staring at you from halfway down the hall, and then back to you with an expression nothing short of horrified. “Oh gods, oh no, Theta is-I have to-I have to get the Doctor. I have to-I’ll be back.”

And then he was gone, turning on his heel and sprinting down the hall, leaving you alone with the little boy called Kappa and the masked man who you could hear drawing closer to you from behind.

You felt like a frozen deer, body tense and cold as you felt the front of his body brush against the back of yours. He reached over your shoulder, long fingers wrapping around your wrist as he lifted your hand up.

You glanced back, eyes catching his for just a moment, and your throat dried at the look in his eyes—wild and unpredictable with a sort of untamable glee that reminded you of the Hydro Archon when she finally took interest in one of the court’s trials. 

And when she took interest in a trial, only one sentence would be exacted onto the defendant: execution. 

His face twisted into an unsettling and chilling smile, teeth glittering like knives beneath the candles that lit up the hall.

“You’re her.”

“Is he mad at me?”

The Iota segment had been on the verge of a meltdown the entire walk back to the palace. They had finally made it out of the forest and were crossing the snowy span of land to the bridge that led to the wide gates of Zapolyanry Palace. The weather was even worse now that there were no trees to buffer—the wind whipped around him violently, howling and shrieking, snow pelting his face like little icicles yet it was not enough to drown out the sniffles and cries of Iota as he wrapped his fingers around the back of Dottore’s shirt, clinging to him desperately as he tried to keep up with the man’s long strides. 

“Of course not,” Epsilon soothed, ever the conciliator as he tried to calm Iota down so the boy didn’t delay them anymore than he already had. 

“He won’t even look at me,” Iota cried. At once, Dottore turned to look over his shoulder, eyes landing sharply on Iota from beneath his mask, lips twisted down into a deep frown. Iota let out a cry akin to a wounded animal. “That’s even worse, I mess everything up, I’m sorry.”

Dottore’s head hurt. He grimaced as the wind nearly dragged his hood right down, tightening the drawstrings of his cloak. Distantly, he noticed that Epsilon was picking up Iota and letting the boy latch onto him as he cried but he tried to ignore it. Iota would get over it in a few hours, he always did—he was sensitive and broke down easily but bounced back before the day was up, burying his attention in some book or paper until he totally forgot about whatever set him off. 

As soon as they got back to the palace, he’d have Epsilon bring the boy down to the basement so he could nestle away in the library down there and then he’d be good as new, bustling to Dottore’s lab to bother him trying to tell him about all that he had learned in his readings. 

Besides the destructive tendencies, Iota was easy to handle for the most part. He was quickly upset but that was a product of the mentality he was created in and the reason for his creation, which he wasn’t supposed to know but the Zeta segment decided to open his mouth about it in an attempt to drive Iota into a meltdown to disrupt Delta’s research so he could pull ahead on it.

The Iota segment was created so that Dottore could do research into the Aranara of Sumeru—unfortunately, Dottore did not realize that the events of the night he was cast out of the village made him unable to see the Aranara anymore, thus making the Iota segment a useless creation. Dottore had debated on just destroying the segment and using the spare parts to create a new one but Delta had convinced him against it, claiming that he would use the failed segment as a means to help with his research instead. Ever since Iota found out about that a few decades ago, he’d been even more unstable than he already was from the mindset he was created in. 

“Enough, Iota,” Dottore said icily. “Have your meltdown on your own time.” 

Epsilon clicked his tongue as Iota caught himself over a sob, pressing his face into the man’s skin as if to hide his tears from Dottore. Epsilon gave Dottore an accusing look, Dottore raised his chin—this is on you.

Epsilon smiled to himself and then looked away, proud.

Again, he reconsidered deactivation, this time far more intensely, and again, Dottore cursed you because all of the misfortune he had faced the past two decades was solely because of your existence.

You, with your irritating attitude and despicable personality, playing the soft-spoken angel to everybody but him. 

You, with your exhausting persistence, meeting him toe-to-toe and word-for-word in every confrontation and conversation he had with you. 

You, with that infuriatingly striking purple dress—low-cut and thin strapped—that he hadn’t been able to draw his eyes off of the whole night no matter how hard he tried. He couldn’t help but wonder just how shameless Fontaine fashion was if that was what you wore to a formal event.

Purple. Nearly ten years and you were still obsessed with the same color. How were you so predictable and unpredictable at the same time? He couldn’t stand the thought of you, he hated unexpected, extraneous variables—the only course of action for dealing with them was removal or isolation and he was beginning to realize that neither of those solutions might be an option for him.

But it was just another hurdle for him to get over. If neither removal nor isolation were viable options, he would need to find a different solution. 

Holding it constant… 

No. That was not an option either—though the more he thought about it, the more tempting the option became. He had enjoyed that irritating attitude of yours and those biting comments that made his brain search for retaliation. He even more so enjoyed that taste of instability, which went against all of his ideals. Dottore was a man of careful calculations and obtaining expected results and yet somehow, when he found himself unable to predict your next words and actions, it left him excited. 

How could one hate the unexpected and yet enjoy it in the same hand? Unless it was not the unexpected, it was you bringing it to him. Dottore’s head throbbed, he felt like a pendulum, swinging back and forth and back and forth and back and forth as he tried to figure out how he felt in relation to you so he could decide upon the best course of action for dealing with you. 

How bothersome. Already, he could feel things shifting—something he had sworn he wouldn’t let happen.

Not for the first time, he felt absurdly jealous of his own segment; Epsilon, who could understand emotions far better than the rest of them ever would be able to and used it against them very often. He wondered if the man already knew what Dottore was feeling—if the smirk on his lips had anything to say about it, Dottore thought he probably did. 

What do you have planned? Dottore wanted to ask Epsilon because he knew that there was some underlying game going on that Dottore couldn’t place yet but he didn’t want to dive into that conversation while Iota was still on the brink of self-destruction, crying and sniffling and choking over his own sobs. 

Dottore thought he might trust Epsilon the least out of all of the segments. Unlike Lambda, whose goals and ambitions were as clear as crystal, Epsilon was an enigma, driven by emotions that the rest of them couldn’t understand. He liked to play games with them, push buttons that they didn’t even know that they had, and your presence in Zapolyanry Palace was a large, bright red one that Dottore just couldn’t seem to destroy.

So long as you were around, Dottore would be at the mercy of Epsilon’s unwelcome schemes and he had a distinct feeling that Epsilon would be playing at trying to make the bond between the two of you stronger. He would have to work to counter it without even knowing the game.

Bothersome. This was all bothersome. Dottore hated games. He hated dealing with his segments. He hated being vulnerable. He hated all of this. 

All of it? Dottore pushed away the treacherous thought furiously. 

“Is that-” Epsilon began but abruptly cut himself off as he moved forward to walk at Dottore’s side, peering ahead carefully through the wicked storm.

Following his gaze, Dottore looked out across the bridge leading to the palace to see a small figure sprinting in their direction—no cloak or covering, only wearing a thin outfit to shield against the sheer cold of the bitter winter storm.

“Gamma,” Dottore murmured in agreement. 

He could feel the anxiety rippling from the boy in waves—anxiety and fear. It didn’t take much to push Gamma into a panic attack but this was different. Dottore could feel it. It wasn’t like the usual ones he experienced. Brows furrowing, he watched as Gamma approached them, eyes wild and cheeks bright red. 

Instantly, Dottore felt uncomfortable, realizing something was very, very wrong. 

“Theta is with her,” Gamma wheezed, doubling over as he tried to catch his breath. He seemed as if he had been crying—a cold feeling, unrelated to the wind and snow around them, settled over him, sinking into his stomach. “You have to get him, he’ll hurt her, he’s in one of his moods. You know what he’s like when he’s in one of them. He’s dangerous and violent. You have to do something.”

“Who is he with?” Dottore asked slowly.

He stared down at Gamma as he waited for a response but deep down, he very much already knew who Theta was with and an old and unwelcome emotion spread throughout him, freezing his bones and blood, weighing on his chest like stones. An emotion that he had long learned to suppress, one that he hadn’t experienced since his days at the Akademiya when they had him placed on trial—he could barely recognize it, it was hard for him to put a name to it until Gamma opened his mouth again. 

“Her,” Gamma gasped. “Our soulmate.”

Fear. The emotion was fear. 

rbs appreciated!!

#dottore x reader #dottore smut #dottore x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact smut

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Suffering in Silence

Sully Family x Fem Autistic Dream walker! Reader (Platonic) Word Count: 965 Words

A/N | I just watched ATWOW today, and can I just say I cried my eyes out and it was absolutely stunning. No spoilers don’t worry :) This is a vent fic based on my own experiences as an autistic individual!

TW: break-downs, panic attack, screaming, self depreciation, minor SH (hair pulling, hitting oneself)

The reader is the same age as Neteyam.

I knew I was different than the rest of the Na’vi, I was taken in by the Sully’s as an infant…but I was different. Even Jake didn’t understand me. Why did I feel so foreign in my own mind. I couldn’t handle the bustle of clan life, my composure breaking down at the constant overwhelming stimulation. I saw the look in my siblings’ eyes and the eyes of my parents, was it embarrassment or pity? I have no idea. I cried and screamed silently at night as I didn’t want to be even more of a burden to them, well that’s what I thought of myself.

It was a normal morning and I had said my goodbyes as I went off exploring the forests of the Omaticaya. But I wasn’t in the best state of mind. A series of self-deprecating thoughts swirled in my mind of how I brought shame to the family and how I was useless. In the depths of my mind, I didn’t see Jake nod to Neytiri as I left the stronghold on my Ikran.

I land in a cove around twenty minutes or so away and dismount. In the centre of the cove is a crystal-clear pond, I pet my Ikran on the nose before sitting by the water’s edge, I gaze at my reflection as tears well up in my eyes. My face distorting with the spell of emotion as I reflect. With a shaky breath I leant against the trunk of a looming tree and curling myself in a ball, rocking back and forth in a fruitless attempt to quell the ache in my head and heart.

I hate feeling like a failure, and I longed to be fit in. My body convulsed as screams clutched at my vocal cords, yet I didn’t let out a sound. My composure slipping through my finger like sand as my head flicked left and right as a stress response, my heels grinding into the rocks as if my soul was trying to escape. I’m not sure I’m in control anymore.

In my state of weakness, I failed to hear the landing of Ikran’s and two gasps before I was swarmed in a flash of blue.

And that’s when I screamed.

A piercing scream finally broke free making the blurry figures stumble back.

“GO!” I scream, ashamed that they had to see me like this.

“Baby girl…” Jake whispered as he crouched down about an arm’s length away. “Can I come closer” His eyes boring into mine, making me ball up tighter. I couldn’t bear the pressure of looking into his eyes, my fingers wound tightly into my braids and harshly tugged, grasping for any sense of relief.

“Hey-hey now” Jake spoke, and he gently pried my fingers out of my hair, his hand engulfing the crown of my skull as I throw my head back into the bark of the tree, his hand protecting my queue. Hushing noises came from Neytiri as she crawled up beside me and placed a hand on my knee to stop me from kicking. I was hyperventilating at this point as I whimpered out in between breaths.

“I-I’m sorry” I cry.

“It’s ok baby girl, just breathe” Jake murmurs, rubbing his thumb under my eye taking my tears away and taking in deep breaths urging me to copy.

“Don’t be sorry, there is nothing to be sorry for (Y/n)” Neytiri states, her eyes boring concern yet she stayed unmoving, like a rock in a rushing river.

I continued to rock myself and following Jakes breathing as he opened his arms up for a hug. I was slowly gaining my senses back as I fell into his awaiting embrace. After a while of Neytiri’s comforting gaze and Jake’s hand running up my spine, I spoke. “Can we go home now?” I whisper into his dreadlocks exhausted.

“Sure can, kiddo.”

Jake took me on his Ikran and Neytiri and my own followed closely behind, we soon arrived home to an awaiting Neteyam, Kiri, Lo’ak, Tuk and Spider.

Sighs of relief are heard when they spotted me hiding behind Jake’s legs, his and Neytiri’s hands intertwined with my own.

“(Y/n)! You’re home!” Tuk called as she came barrelling into my legs, earning a small smile from me, I miss the loving look Jake and Neytiri send each other.

“Glad to see you’re safe sister” Neteyam called as he gave me a pat on the shoulder as we enter the home.

“You alright (Y/n)? I’ll find out if anyone hurt you and ill show them not to mess with the Sully’s” Lo’ak called as he caught me affectionately in a headlock before being swiftly removed by Neteyam as he called him a Skxawng (moron).

“Oh (Y/n), you’re not hurt, are you?” Kiri questions with her brows knitted.

“No, no. I’m fine.” I murmur my voice fragile from wailing and screaming myself raw, Tuk feeling my mood she wrapped my calf in a tight embrace as I lean and caress her scalp with a smile.

Spider stayed relatively silent as he watched from afar as I go and lay down in the bed. Utterly drained from the emotional distress I had to endure.

With a heavy sigh I lay gingerly on my back and let my eyes fall closed. That was until I felt everyone clamber into the bed around me, shielding from the outside world. As everyone got comfortable, I relaxed into Jakes side with Neteyam to my other and Tuk splayed on top of me.

“We love you (Y/n); we will always be here for you.” Everyone whispered as we all rested together. I couldn’t help the tear slip down my features as I fell into a blissful sleep surrounded by my family. The family who loves my unconditionally.

#Sully family x reader #autistic #avatar the way of water #avatar #ATWOW #fanfiction #James Cameron #2009 #2022 #Jake #Neytiri #Neteyam #Kiri #Lo'ak #Tuktiery #Spider Avatar #x reader #avatar x fem reader #avatar the way of water x reader #ATWOW x reader

[pangur-and-grim]

okay I’m sharing a sample chapter because I think it’s funny, if anyone is mean I will cry real human tears

Chapter 9

I decided to take seducing the mad sorcerer more seriously.

His odd acts of kindness, listening to me gab about my friendship troubles with Glenda, patching my wounds, the dragon scale, it added up. I mean sure, the guy turned me into a vulture, threatened to pull my teeth out, and implanted my chest with some sort of sick torture device…. but……. hmm, maybe this wasn’t a great idea.

Still, I wanted out of this vulture body. He could transmogrify me. All I needed was a path, connecting between those points, a way to ‘make it worth his while’, as it were.

“My lord,” I squawked over breakfast. The mad sorcerer was having thick-sliced bread with jam, and I was having a squirrel that had gotten trapped in the chimney and only just begun to rot. I’d flown it down to the kitchen to eat with the sorcerer, figuring a lonely guy like him would enjoy a social meal.

“My lord,” I repeated, swallowing the scrap of squirrel intestine that dangled from my beak. “I think you should turn me into a woman.”

The mad sorcerer choked on his bread.

After some spluttering and hacking of breadcrumbs, and indecision on my part as to whether I should be smacking his back with a wing, he recovered enough to answer. “Why in the world…...? Also, you are flinging rat…. particles everywhere, from this point onward you are forbidden from eating indoors. Effective immediately,” he added, as I raced to get in one last beakfull.

“It’s a squirrel, my lord.” I said, wiping my beak on the brick oven I perched on. “They have the fluffy tails, that’s how you can tell.”

“Stop that! Stop that!” The sorcerer rose to shoo me off the oven and, confused, I circled the room and landed on a chair.

“Anyway, so the transmogrification, my lord. I figure since the prophecy is clear about bodily sex, I can swap to the other one while still weaselling out of the whole thing. Pretty smart, right?” I finished wiping my beak on my own back feathers, and then raised a talon to scratch an itch beneath my chin.

“’Thick eyelashes for a boy’…. I suppose you’re right.” The sorcerer seemed deep in thought. “And you are rather disgusting as a vulture.”

“Well, no, I groom regularly my lord,” I protested, “Look, there’s this nipple-looking thing at the base of my tail, see? And I get oil from there and smear it all over the place. Keeps me shiny!”

“Stop flaring your feathers, I do not wish to see it. I will use the needle if I have to, obey my instructions.” The sorcerer kneaded his forehead with a hand, his toast lying forgotten on the table. A trio of the small humanoid kitchen constructs had descended on my squirrel, one carting it away and the other two working with brushes to scrub the scraps of red off the brickwork. I decided not to protest.

“I have given you free reign of this stronghold because, lacking opposable thumbs and any possible allies, the damage you could do is minimal. As a human, the situation changes.” The sorcerer had his forehead lined and serious, but the lack of a solid ‘no’ made me giddy. Time for a sales pitch!

“I could cook and clean! And decorate, my lord, this place is pretty drab. That’s not even getting into the other stuff I could do.” I cocked my head in what I hoped to be a significant manner, vultures not having any eyebrows to raise.

“The other stuff? No, no, no I see that look on your face, please don’t answer, I know exactly where this is going.” The sorcerer’s eye flashed, and another little construct emerged to carry away his toast. Disappointment struck – I’d been hoping the sorcerer would eventually exit the kitchen having forgotten it entirely, leaving the crisp bread available for plundering. But back to selling myself.

“No, see my lord, I reckon I could perform se-“

“Shut up, shut up, please stop talking. Alright, I will turn you into a human woman if you agree to one condition.” The mad sorcerer raised a single bony finger.

“Oh, my lord?” Joy and relief unfolded like a flower. “And what’s that?”

“Please stop trying to seduce me.”

#the context is that there's a prophecy about the knight's death #but he looks a specific way in that prophecy. so they're avoiding it through shenanigans #im at 50k words as of today

[leovenuslatina]

Dear you 💖

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

a love letter from your fs 💝

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

psa - this PAC is a little different this is more a channeled message than a tarot reading enjoy!

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ᰔᩚ

* take a deep cleansing breathe

and pick a pile that calls to you *

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

pile 1

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ᰔᩚ

Dear pile one, I am absolutely thrilled to express my utter joy and excitement at the mere thought of being in your presence. It feels like an exhilarating adventure filled with endless possibilities. When I am with you, time seems to stand still as we embark on an enchanting journey of love and inspiration. Your warmth and comfort embrace me like a cozy blanket, providing solace to my weary soul. Every moment spent together is cherished, as we create unforgettable memories and share the deepest of conversations. Your companionship brings out the best version of myself, igniting a flame within that cannot be extinguished. In your delightful company, I find solace, encouragement, and a sense of belonging that surpasses all expectations. Pile one, you are my safe haven where happiness thrives and dreams come alive – and for that, I am eternally grateful.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

pile 2

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ᰔᩚ

Oh "Dear Pile Two, You Complete Me" - how you fill my life with joy and clutter! As I gaze upon your haphazardly stacked papers, misplaced knick-knacks, and random odds and ends, I can't help but feel an inexplicable sense of fulfillment. You are like the missing puzzle piece to my organized chaos. Who needs a meticulously tidy workspace when they can have the delightful chaos of a well-curated pile? From bills that need paying (eventually) to notes scribbled on Post-it's, you hold the irreplaceable treasures of my forgetful mind. Sure, some may scoff at your seemingly disorderly nature, but little do they know the hidden wisdom within your disarray. So here's to you, oh magnificent dear pile two - although your tidiness might be questionable, your charm is unmatched.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

pile 3

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ᰔᩚ

Dear pile 3, it's only you and me against the world. As I stand here, overlooking the vastness of our existence, I can't help but feel the weight of the universe pressing down upon us. It is in this moment that I realize the magnitude of our relationship, for within your embrace lies all that we hold dear. The world may attempt to tear us apart, but we shall prevail. Our bond is forged through the trials and tribulations we have faced together; a stronghold against adversity. As the tempest rages around us, threatening to consume all that we hold sacred, know that I am steadfast by your side. Our unity imbues me with an unwavering strength; no longer alone in this tumultuous journey through life's torrential storms. Together, pile 3, we defy fate and conquer uncertainty as champions of love and resilience.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

pile 4

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ᰔᩚ

Dear Pile 4, you are my perfect person. The mere thought of your existence fills me with an indescribable mix of joy and longing. Every fiber of my being yearns for your touch, for the sound of your voice whispering sweet nothings into my ear. In this chaotic world, you are the anchor that keeps me grounded, the lighthouse that guides me through stormy waters. Your presence brings clarity to my thoughts and purpose to my existence. From the deepest depths of my soul, I believe that we were destined to be together - two halves of a whole seeking solace in each other's arms. Yet, fate continues to test our resolve, placing seemingly insurmountable obstacles in our path. But fear not, for I shall endure any hardship and surmount every challenge to be by your side. For you, dear Pile 4, are worthy of every sacrifice and every drop of blood spilled in this epic battle against destiny itself.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

#black tarot readers #pick a pile #future spouse #channeled reading #pick a card tarot #tarotcommunity #daily tarot #tarot #tarot cards #tarot daily #tarotblr #love reading #love messages #lovers #i love them

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Forget-Me-Not 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Loki

Summary: You return to your childhood home to put the past to rest.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You toss another can in the bin. The kitchen is littered with your mother’s addiction. Vodka bottles line the counter and beer cans sit in piles on the tile. In some, you find the putrid remnants of forgotten mouthfuls. You rinse them over the sink and fling them over your shoulder, listening to them land in the tall container.

The house rankles with neglect. The walls are layered in filth, the floor is unswept, and the couch is dingy. You shake your head and mutter. 

You’re reminded of the teen girl who trod through her mother’s mess every day on her way to the front door, her room her fortress; the only space she could claim as her own. That sacred stronghold she kept spotless in a measly grasp for an ounce of control. 

You drop another can in the sink and back away. You shake the stale dregs from your fingers and flee without a second thought. You stumble out onto the shady porch and gulp in air. Fresh, fertile, and free.

You sit on the highest step and hang your head. Your eyes flick over to the basket of flowers. Your foot twitches, wanting to kick it into the dirt. You sigh and tilt your chin up.

You’re sad but not for your mother. You know you should be. No one else will mourn her. They’ll all whisper about how she wallowed in her filth, how she died lonely and abandoned. But they won’t care. They won’t grieve her.

Neither will you. What they don’t say behind their hands is that she was rotten with the liquor. Bitter to the core. The bottle was her shield and her weapon. Her excuse to be what she was. Vile and venomous.

You don’t miss her, you pity her. You stand and face the house, your eyes tinge as you glare at the screen door. Splinters fill the dents in the frame and rust recedes from the hinges. The birds chirp louder and louder and all at once, the world is quiet.

Paralysed, you watch yourself run up the stairs and stop before the door. Twenty years younger but just as broken. Your shadow listens with her ear tilted. A man’s voice rumbles from inside and your mother croaks in return.

“She’ll be home soon,” she says before she sucks on the neck of the bottle, a loud glug bubbling from its depths. “Plain but quiet.”

Your lip trembles and you falter as if you’ve been struck. The teen girl turns to face you, she’s about to run but the door opens and she’s caught. 

“There you are,” your mother’s voice chafes in her throat, “we got company–”

You lunge forward to grab the girl before she’s dragged inside. It’s too late. Your knee hits the step and you shudder. How cruel were those village gossips, to warble about the girl but they never said a cross word about their own husbands.

Your stomach fills with bile as you push yourself to your feet. You won’t go inside. Not this time. You turn away and heave, swiping the tears from your eyes. You swear you can hear the girl screaming and sobbing as you walk away. Just like all the others who ignored her.

Your feet carry you without a destination. Water trickles noisily and lures you in. You sit on the overturned tree and watch the ripples lap over pointed rocks. 

You should burn the place down. A pile of ash is worth more than those stained walls. You look down at your hands and shake them out, as if you can shed the memories like snake skin.

Only one person heard that girl. Just the one but he turned out just the same. It was never empathy, only a trick.

Forget him. Forget all of it. You sat in that room, across from that doctor, and you did just that. You’re not going to let it back in.

A twig snaps and you sit straight, breath hitching as you search the shadows between the trees. The sunlight flickers through the leaves and the water reflects the world in warped lines. You stand and go to the river’s edge, looking down at yourself. Not a girl anymore, just a tarnished woman.

“Somehow,” the slither jars you but doesn’t surprise you, “I knew I’d find you here.”

You don’t answer him. You know that’s what he wants. For you to shake, to shriek, to do what you did then. To grovel for him to stop, to go away. Just there, on the riverbed, pebbles jabbing into your stomach, your face soaked with the cold water.

“Offer still stands.”

“I don’t want your money,” you say to his rippled reflection.

“Mm, but we both know you need it.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” you sneer, “you never did.”

He snorts, “I know a lot about you. I know how you feel, I know how you whine and beg and–”

“Are you so pathetic? You cling to the past like some desperate old man. This isn’t high school–”

“No, it isn’t,” he agrees, “yet here we are and hardly a thing has changed,” Loki struts along the river to its narrowest breadth and steps across, “you are still nothing, and I am still me.”

“A big fish in a tiny, dried up pond,” you spit as you sidle away from him.

“I am the same shark–”

You bend and grab a sharp rock. It’s big and thick and just holding it cuts into your hand. You spin and whip it in his direction. It just misses his shoulder as he sidesteps, plunging a foot into the riverbed. He snarls and kicks his shoe up, shaking it like a wet cat.

“Why would you do that?” He hisses.

“I’ll do it again,” you bend to take another stone, “I will bash your fucking face in.”

“Whooo,” he whistles and snickers as he crosses his arms nonchalantly, “she’s found her voice.”

“Fuck you,” you grip the stone and rear back your arm, “I won’t miss again.”

He tilts his head and his nostrils flare. His snakish eyes narrow and he clucks, “neither will I.”

You stand, locked in stalemate, waiting for the other to crack. He drops his arms, hands on his hips as he raises his chin defiantly.

“I waited twenty years,” he snarls, “what’s a little longer?”

He twists on his heel and hops over the river. You squeeze the rock as you watch him stride away. Arrogant and assured. You fling the rock and it bounces on the ground after his heels. He doesn’t look back as he disappears into the forest.

The beast might hide to lick his wounds, but he always comes back.

#loki x reader #loki #dark loki #dark!loki #thor #avengers #mcu #marvel #au #backwoods au #drabble #series #forget-me-not

[darkbluekies]

In the middle of the night

Yandere!doctor OC x reader Y/N

Summary: You wake up in the middle of the night in panic and Dr Kry does everything he can to make it better. While getting you something to eat, he is confronted by a man who seems to have caught onto his obsession with you and has to be dealt with quickly.

Warnings: drugs, overdosing, killing, framing/faking someon's death, panic attack, obsession, yandere

Word count: 2.4k

There are a few times you call for Dr Kry during the night and tonight is one of those nights. You wake up, drenched in sweat and filled with anxiety in a panicked state. A tight pressure sets over your chest, making you even more frantic. You're lying in your bed with a thick pillow behind your back to keep your head high. That's how you always stay — day in and day out. You can't breathe if you lay flat on your back.

You reach for the phone hung up on the wall that is connected to Dr Kry’s cellphone. You hold the white, plastic phone to your ear while twirling the spiral cord around your finger. 

“Y/N?” Dr Kry asks quickly when he picks up. “What’s wrong?”

“P-Please come”, you cry. 

“I’ll be there in two minutes.”

And then he hangs up. You sink down on your bed with your hands over your chest, manually trying to help your body breathe again. Two minutes later, Dr Kry runs into the dark room, wearing light blue pajamas and silk robe in the same color. You’re in the hospital dress every patient gets. It’s the only type of clothing you’ve worn for a long time. 

“What’s wrong?” Dr Kry asks and crouches down in front of you to be able to see the face of your hung head. “Look at me.”

And you meet his blue eyes. 

“Please don’t cry”, he whispers and pats your tears dry with a soft napkin. “It hurts my heart so badly to see you cry."

“I-I can’t breathe”, you sob. “I want my family. I want my mom."

"They can't be here", Dr Kry says softly but can't help but feel a burning hatred for your family at this moment. "Only I am."

"I-I want my m-mom! I think I’m having a heart attack.”

“Nonsense.”

Dr Kry stands up and starts to move towards the window. You hurry after him, refusing to spend even a second alone in this fragile state. You need someone by your side to reassure you that things will be okay. Dr Kry gasps as he feels your arms wrap around his waist from behind. He looks down at your hands that are clenched together in a stronghold. He can swear that he feels his heart burst at that very moment. You're so sweet, what would he do without you?

He turns around in the embrace and finds you looking up at him with the most precious teary doe eyes imaginable.

"Please don't leave me", you sob and lean your head against his chest.

He freezes, brain going empty. He gulps hard and looks around in disbelief. Is this really happening? Is he dreaming? Suddenly he doesn't feel like the muscular guy he actually is, he feels like he's that little boy he once was getting a hug from his first crush. Shaking arms come up to wrap around you. One hand meets the small of your back and the other on the back of your head, to secure your head in his chest. He thinks he'll die if you remove your head from his heart.

"I'd never dream of leaving you", he smiles and caresses your face, trying to not sound as mushy as he feels. "I was just going to open the window."

You shake your head and bury your head into his chest again. Dr Kry starts to worry that you can hear how hard and how fast his poor heart is beating. His entire body has become limp, he doesn't know what to do. His head starts to feel oh, so light.

"What … what do you want me to do then?" he asks and hears how his own voice is so distant. God, he's dizzy. 

“Please just hold me”, you beg. “I know it’s not professional … but I really need it. I-I’m sorry-”

He gulps hesitantly. “Don’t be … I’ll hold you …”

He picks you up in his lap and sits down on the bed with you in his arms. Dr Kry has never held someone like this before. Not even past lovers. It has never been something he’s been comfortable with and he wouldn’t do this to just anyone. But you’re his darling, his miracle. You’re not like his past lovers. You have made his life worth living. If you need to be held, he’ll hold you. 

You lean your head on his broad shoulder and feel how his muscular arms wrap around you protectively. 

"Am I going to die?" you sob.

"Of course not", Dr Kry says softly, squeezing your hand gently. "This is just temporary. You'll see that you feel much better soon."

"Do you promise?"

"Of course. Do you want me to do anything for you?"

"Can you read for me? "Please?"

"Of course.”

He lets you go carefully and walks over to the bookshelf and picks out the one he's currently reading for you and returns. Gliding back on his rolling stool with a reassuring smile.

"We were on chapter three, right?" he asks.

You nod and sniffle. He reaches out his warm palm to wipe your tears. All he wants is to kiss your pretty, wet lips and take the pain away from you. He wants to break the barriers between doctor and patient, but if he does, he might risk never seeing you again. 

"Thank you doctor", you say quietly and glance towards the clock on the wall. 2:30. "I feel bad for bothering you so much."

"Never feel that. You are my number one patient. I'd do anything for you — and I really mean that. Nothing you'd ask from me is too much."

He starts to read for you and you try to relax and control your breathing again. His voice doesn't take away the pain, but it distracts you enough to enjoy the chapter. After he’s done reading, you seem to be a bit calmer, but something still doesn’t feel right. 

"You know what, Y/N?" he says after a while. “How about we go down to the kitchen and see if we can get you something to eat?”

“I can come with you?” you ask in surprise. 

“I don’t think there’s so many people down there at this hour. I think we’ll be fine.”

You don’t know if you’re hungry or if you just really want to explore the hospital, but you accept his suggestion. There’s only been a few times you’ve been let out of your hospital room, but you’ve never been down to the kitchen.

Dr Kry gives you his silk robe to cover you up and give you some warmth before taking your hand and leads you out into the empty corridor. He walks you to the elevator and pushes the button. 

“Do you have a partner, doctor?” you ask as the elevator takes you down. 

“No, I don’t, why do you ask?” he says.

“You deserve someone. You’re a good guy.”

He sighs. He wants you. That’s all he wants. 

“Thank you, Y/N”, he says instead but wishes that he could say more. 

They step out and Dr Kry looks around to make sure no one watches the two of you. He doesn’t want people to look at you. You’re for his eyes only. 

The only part of the hospital that is in full use for the moment is the ER. Dr Kry leads you through corridors until you reach the kitchen. It’s a large space filled with pots and pans and fridges and stoves. You can’t see where it ends. 

“What do you want?” Dr Kry asks. “If there isn’t anything ready, I’ll cook for you.”

“I don’t know”, you answer. “I don’t feel so hungry.”

“I want you to eat something before going back to bed, Y/N. I will choose for you if you don’t make up your mind.” He lets go of your hand and gives you a gentle push. “Go on, go look through the fridges.”

With his encouragement, you walk over to the metal fridges and start to see if there’s anything in there that could make you feel better. He leans his back against one of the stoves with his arms crossed, watching you. A sound behind you makes the both of you turn. A doctor is standing in the door opening, looking displeased.

“Dr Kry, finally, there you are”, he says shortly. “I need to speak with you.”

You look at Dr Kry in confusion and a bit of fear. Will he scold you for being in the kitchen? You don’t want any trouble.

“Continue to look, I’ll take care of this”, Dr Kry says and moves away from the stove.  

You turn back to the fridges, hearing how the door closes behind them. You can’t help but feel a shiver run down your spine. That look that Dr Kry had in his eyes reminds you of death. 

Dr Kry looks at the man with fury in his eyes and doesn’t start to speak until he’s sure the door has closed behind him — sure that you can’t hear him. 

“What do you want?” he asks and doesn’t even try to hide the annoyed feelings he’s feeling. 

“That woman’s/man’s family has been asking for them for weeks by now”, the other doctor sighs. “I want to know what you are doing with them! Why aren’t you letting the family meet them?”

Dr Kry sighs frustrated. Why does he have to talk about this at three am? You’re not feeling well, Dr Kry has to keep his eye on you. This man is ruining the sweet moments you had together tonight. 

“Can’t this wait?” he mutters. “I’m literally busy.”

“You’re always busy”, the man spits. “If I want to talk to you, I have to search you up in the middle of the fucking night because you’re gone during the day.”

“How did you know I was awake anyway?”

“I saw you pass by the reception.”

“And why are you up?”

“Because I have to help the ER nurses, what else? Stop trying to change the subject. Don’t you know how much trouble you’ll be in if you continue to deny the family any information about your patient or let them see them?”

“Then let me get head deep in trouble.” Dr Kry grabs the door handle harshly, a clear signal that he wants this conversation to be over. “I’m doing my job. Y/N is in no way or shape ready to leave the hospital yet. Besides, they’re an adult. We don’t have to give out information to family members unless they’re underage. Y/N doesn’t want to meet their parents or any family members, so tell them to drop the subject and leave us alone. Now if you don’t mind, I’m busy.”

With that said, Dr Kry opens the door, walks into the kitchen again. You look over your shoulder at him with the sweetest eyes that makes him melt. He locks the door behind him as he feels all anger wash away. 

“Are you finding anything?” he asks softly. 

“I think I found some muffins”, you say and hold up a frozen package. “But … it’s frozen.”

“Let’s put it in the microwave.”

He walks over to you and takes it out of your hands, almost gulping at how soft your skin is feeling. You watch how he takes out two muffins out of the package and places them in the microwave. He presses a few buttons until the two blueberry muffins start spinning around.  

“What did he want?” you ask. “That man.”

“Nothing”, Dr Kry smiles and leans against the stove. “He just wanted to ask me about some work.”

“You looked mad though. Are you sure everything is okay?”

“Everything is fine, Y/N. You’re the patient, I’m the doctor, remember? Let me handle this.”

“Did it involve me?”

Dr Kry laughs softly to cover up how shocked he gets. You watch him in confusion. 

“No, no, of course not!” he lies. “Don’t worry about it. You haven’t done anything wrong. And even if you had, I would take care of it for you. You have nothing to worry about. All you need to do is relax and focus on healing and I will do the rest.”

“Thank you, doctor”, you say quietly.

“No problem.”

The microwave’s beeping ruins the moment. Dr Kry picks out the steaming muffins and gives you one of them. You only hold it for a second before the warning signals shoot through your body and forces you to drop it down on the metal table in front of you with a yelp. 

“Are you okay?” Dr Kry asks quickly and takes your smaller hand in his. “Did you burn yourself? I’m sorry, I should have waited before giving it to you.”

He blows some air on your hand and fights the temptation to kiss it. You bring out the sleeves of the robe to cover your hands and pick it up again. This time, you have an easier time eating it. Dr Kry watches you fondly, smiling at your cute expressions. Gosh, he loves you so much! He can’t imagine his life without you. These sweet moments are the ones he treasures forever. 

“Let’s go back to your room”, he says. “You need some more sleep.”

You nod. Dr Kry places his hand on your back to guide you back, your hands being occupied with holding the hot muffin. You walk by the reception when walking towards the elevators. Dr Kry catches the eyes of the other doctor. He looks at the two of you in a manner that makes Dr Kry clench his jaw. From now on, Dr Kry will keep an eye on that man. Something about him makes him uneasy. If he ever dares to try something with you, Dr Kry won’t be very forgiving. 

He puts you to bed and waits until you’ve managed to fall asleep again before making his way out of your room. Dr Kry has to get rid of that man before he manages to figure out just what you mean to him. If more people understand your relationship, they’ll take you from him and put him in jail. He can’t let that happen. He has to get rid of that man before he can tattletail. 

Dr Kry makes his way to the medicine storage and searches for sleeping pills. A few of these in the man’s coffee and he won’t notice a thing. It’s not easy to get rid of people in a hospital, but Dr Kry has become a natural at faking others death. Overdosing on sleeping pills and then taking a bath could only be the man’s own fault. He just wanted to relax after a long night of hard work! He didn't mean for it to end so tragically.

By the end of the night, the man no longer breathes. The last bubbles have left his mouth. And he’s no longer a threat. Dr Kry smiles as he makes his way over to your room. You’re safe again. 

#yandere #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere fics #yandere stories #yandere doctor #yandere oneshots #yandere au #yandere fluff #yandere scenarios #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x reader

[barbieaemond]

Red Bird • I

Pairing(s): Aemond Targaryen x Alysanne Hightower oc, Daeron Targaryen x Alysanne Hightower (minor)

Word count: 4.8k

MASTERLIST

taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @arcielee @chompchompluke @bunbunbl0gs

(English is not my first language)

Red Bird.

That's how her father called her. For that crimson shade in her hair. For the old tale.

He did it when she made him laugh. He did it to comfort her. He did it on his dying bed. He called for her. But she was far, far away, locked up in a gilded cage of redstone bricks. Dreadful winged beasts to guard it.

Lord Hobert Hightower was a good man. Loyal and dutiful. He lived to serve his House and he did, ruling the most ancient city of the Realm with a firm hand but a kind heart. He had a gentler soul than his younger brother.

“Otto began to pull the strings from our mother’s womb. That’s why he was born before time.”

Joke or not, Otto was a born politician. And his older brother was proud of the stature with which Otto had incensed their noble House. No matter the cost. But King’s Landing had wrapped its coils around Otto and Hobert had watched its poison spread behind his brother's eyes, making him wary, cold, calculating. Losing his lady wife had only made things worse.

At least on that, Hobert could understand.

He had lost his Lynesse two days after Alysanne’s third nameday. She had given him three healthy sons and one daughter, but she had never recovered from her last birth. And the Lord had mourned her for many moons.

Alysanne Hightower was raised by a Septa. With each passing year, despite the strictness dictated by the clergy woman, Lord Hobert caught glimpses of his lady wife through Alysanne’s stubbornness, through the wrinkle between her eyebrows when she disagreed on something, through her loud laugh.

She was tough to yield.

He should have scolded her for that, but he hadn’t.

Ormund, his first son who was almost fifteen years older than Alysanne, periodically accused his father of spoiling her. But the Lord didn’t care, for he knew. He knew that sooner or later, Alysanne had to put aside her beloved books, forsake her fantasies, her little trips outside the castle. He knew he ought to sell her to the highest bidder.

Thus, he let her do as she liked. And she did.

She knew that in the Age of Heroes, the Ravenry of the Citadel was supposedly the stronghold of a pirate lord who robbed ships as they came down the Honeywine.

She knew that during summer nights, the cobbled streets and stone bridges below the castle would smell of moonbloom and nightshade.

She knew you would find melons and peaches in Ragpicker's Wynd. But the Thieves Market was the only one to sell pomegranates.

And if she closed her eyes, she could trace the way the beacon on the mighty Hightower would reflect on the water of the Whispering Sound, guiding the ships to port.

Oldtown.

A place she made her own, to the point it had become mental, intimate, conjurable by her fingertips wherever in the world she would be. And she knew her future would eventually led her somewhere else.

She stored everything in her mind as another library she could reach anytime she wished. She drank the words and painted thousands of images in her mind, her memories like colorful brushes.

Her father kept saying she got used to lock herself into it, amongst the dark and dusty shelves; that it was a childish habit, not properly suited for a lady, a Hightower lady at that.

But she didn't listen, she never did, to the point that once, her lord father had to forbid her any access to the libraries and no further trips downtown.

"I don't understand." she said pleading that night. Large tears were trapped into her big blue-green eyes, making them red and blurry "What wrong am I doing? What's the harm in reading?"

Her Lord Father had shaken his head, keeping his gaze fixed on the dinner plate.

"Nothing wrong with reading, red bird. But you're neglecting your other duties. Septa Brenna tells me you missed your needle work twice last week."

Alysanne took the advantage of her father not looking to roll her eyes. A tear escaped running down her cheek. "I was just late. I thought she already left my chambers."

"And why were you late?"

"Because I didn't want to go."

Lord Hobert leveled her with a reprimanding stare but she simply shrugged. "I'm awful at needle work. I’ve accepted it. The Gods accepted it. Why can't you and Septa Brenna do the same?"

"All that reading is a waste of time." her oldest brother peeped in.

It was no secret that the first and last child of Lord Hobert had little love for each other. Ormund was to inherit Oldtown, everything was due to him. No one would ever question his word, even the dullest one. She ought to fight to even state her own.

Alysanne looked at him, sitting proudly beside their father, content for having done absolutely nothing except spending the morning sparring with a sword, blabbing about hunting or jousting, or some other physical activity for which her ears were still too young to hear.

Out of pure spite, she raised her chin and faked genuine curiosity. "Can you even read, brother?"

Ormund only glared at her. "That mouth of yours will get you hurt one day, little sister. No Lord of the Realm would want a woman beside him who doesn’t know when to shut her mouth."

"Ormund, that is enough." their Lord father said, and that was the end of it.

But they used to go on the matter on regular basis until Alysanne had to cave in. She began to attend her needle work again, gaining the scowls of Septa Brenna at her awful embroidery and her father's permission to reaccess the libraries.

Thus, she went back to burying her nose in books and pages so old they seemed like dead leaves between her fingers.

Two moons after her twelveth name day, she was reading about the legendary Symeon Star-Eyes in a book she had secretly stolen or, how she liked to phrase it, accidentally borrowed.

Maesters didn't allow their precious books to be borrowed from the ancient libraries of Oldtown, not even by the only daughter of Lord Hobert Hightower.

"You have to return that."

Alysanne didn’t bother to answer, keeping her eyes focused on the book but she did raise her head to scowl at her Septa when the woman pulled her dark auburn hair a little too much.

"That was intentional."

"So was your ignoring my statement."

Alysanne and Septa Brenna didn’t exactly see eye to eye on many levels but in time they had managed to find some ground. The Septa was a rigid woman, assigned to educate Alysanne as a proper Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, a perfect Lady Hightower. Loyal and dutiful.

Too bad Alysanne had little care for duty.

She was Lord Hightower's only daughter, the last of her siblings, three brothers who had abundantly fulfilled their highest duty, carrying on the Hightower name. She was the spare and a woman, her destiny was to leave Old Town and her name behind and marry into another. She had even come to accept it in a way, as long as they leave her alone and let her do what she liked. She felt it as a blurry thing, way far in the horizon and in the future.

Until it wasn’t.

"What are you doing still up?"

Her father’s voice finally managed to make her look up from the book. Through the vanity mirror, she saw the man on the threshold, a slight dip between his eyebrows.

"Father, you know I stay up till late."

Lord Hightower sighed and closed the door. Approaching his daughter at the vanity table, he tied his hands behind his back and said "We should do something about these…rebellious attitudes of yours."

Alysanne frowned, watching his father in the mirror, his tense shoulders. He smiled briefly and put one hand on his daughter’s shoulder.

"Tomorrow is going to be a long day, daughter. You should take some rest."

"Tomorrow? Why? What is happening tomorrow?"

"The Queen will be visiting her ancestors’ home. Along with her brother, Ser Gwayne and her youngest son, Prince Daeron. I have accepted the Queen’s request to make him my cupbearer and my squire. Naturally, I said yes. How could I refuse? A Targaryen prince, here? It’s an honor."

Alysanne turned on her chair to look at this father. Eager anticipation blowing her eyes wide.

"Do you know if he will bring his dragon? I’ve read that dragons and dragon riders share a fierce and mysterious bond! Some texts claim it’s magic, from Old Valyria! Can you believe it, Father? A dragon flying over Old Town!

Lord Hightower chuckled and helped his daughter rise from her chair, escorting her to bed.

"We’ll see, red bird. Now, do as your father says and go to bed."

Alysanne sighed and went under the covers. Before leaving, Lord Hobert turned on the doorstep and looked at Septa Brenna, the wrinkles on his forehead seemed suddenly sharper.

"Make sure she’s wearing her finest dress tomorrow."

"As you wish, my lord."

When she was escorted to the hall, she felt like she was going to pass out.

Never, not once, Septa Brenna pulled the laces of her corset so tight like that morning. She had looked into the mirror and thought the dress was beautiful, yes, but she felt a bit uneasy. It was different from what she usually wore. More womanly. Even more so when Septa Brenna lowered the green straps, fully exposing her young shoulders.

She entered the room and felt many pairs of eyes on her, all the pleasant talking instantly ceased. Her father, her brothers and their ladies, they were all there. So was the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Alysanne looked at the woman, a young woman, clad in green, her dark hair braided and tied atop her head with threads of gold, shining brightly as the Queen inclined her head to take a long and better look at Alysanne.

The young lady almost startled when she heard Septa Brenna hissing on her neck. "Seven Hells, child, what are you doing? Go pay your respects to the Queen."

And she did. She approached the Queen and bent her knees.

"My Queen. It is the highest of honors to meet you."

Silence followed for almost a minute, then the Queen smiled warmly and took Alysanne by the hands. "My dearest cousin, how much you have grown. It warms my heart to see what a lovely lady you’ve become."

Alysanne managed a smile, looking down at the Queen’s hands holding her own. She couldn’t but notice her nails, all red and chapped.

"You honor me, your Grace. It is a delight, for all of us, to have you here, back in your ancient and noble house."

Queen Alicent smiled again, with distant nostalgia, even sadness. Whatever it was, it didn’t reach her eyes. Then she turned, beckoning someone to come forward.

"This is my youngest son. Prince Daeron Targaryen. Son, meet Lady Alysanne Hightower."

A young boy, maybe a year younger that her, stepped forward, one arm behind his back and the other outstretched to her, palm upwards.

"My lady." he said politely, waiting for her hand.

"My prince."

Once he kissed her hand, he straightened his back and smiled. Although she was taller than him, Alysanne was slightly taken aback by his appearance.

She had never seen a Targaryen before, save for book illustrations, and the princeling before her looked the spitting image of Old Valyria: shining curls of silver falling around a delicate face and two violet eyes. He wore black, but the cloak resting on his left shoulder was green, tied to his doublet by a three-headed silver dragon.

Stepping back, the Queen and Lord Hobert shared a long look.

"I think it’s best to retire for a while before the banquet."

"Of course, your Grace. I have had your old chambers prepared for you."

Alicent smiled and took her leave with a nod. When she was out, Alysanne saw the lady wives of her brothers do the same, so she went for the door as well.

"Not you, sister." Ormund said, and she stopped.

She was standing in front of Septa Brenna, who gave her a small sympathetic smile, a genuine one, before leaving the room.

Alysanne turned on her heels to face her family and clasped her hands on her green gown. A dreadful feeling began twisting her stomach.

For a moment no one talked, but then her father stepped forward and grabbed her softly by the shoulders. "My daughter. My sweet only daughter. You’re young but I dim you wise enough to understand the consequences of the Queen coming here."

Alysanne swallowed and lowered her gaze, feeling that blurry thing suddenly becoming limpid, and then blinding.

"I—"

"It’s true that the Queen wanted to escort her son here. She cares deeply about her children. But that is not the only reason."

"She wanted to see me."

"Indeed. And you know why?"

The young lady looked up in her father’s eyes and saw her future, arranged and sealed like one of the ships leaving port. Duty was calling.

"I am to marry the prince."

Lord Hightower only nodded. Then he smiled, kindly, taking her daughter’s face between his hands.

“You need not worry, red bird. We will stand by you, always. We will light your way."

Her lip started to quiver but she refused to cry, not in front of her brothers. "Father, I beg you. I will do as you command, just…don’t make me leave Oldtown so soon."

At this, Lord Hobert stopped looking at her and withdrew his hands.

"You must understand, Alysanne. There will be preparations to be done."

"What kind of preparations? Can’t they be done here?"

"Preparations regarding your education." her oldest brother intruded again.

Alysanne turned her head to look at him, a grimace twisting her mouth. "My education is perfectly fine, brother. I’m afraid the same cannot be said about yours."

"Meaning?"

"Enough." said Lord Hightower, but Ormund laughed and pointed a lazy finger at his sister.

"That is what I’m talking about. Your education is quite alright sister, it is your tongue that needs to be educated."

"I said enough!"

This time Lord Hobert almost yelled, shushing his bickering children. Then, with a loud sigh, he looked at his daughter and his tone became commanding, like it never was before.

"Prince Daeron will stay here until he becomes a knight. You will have the chance to stay close to your future husband and get to know him. A chance most ladies are not granted in the matter of arranged weddings. But when the time comes, as in when Queen Alicent decides so, you will leave Oldtown and take a place amongst Princess Helaena’s ladies in waiting, in order to learn and live the court.

"Father—"

"It’s an order, Alysanne!" the Lord snapped "You are not suited to marry a prince now. But you will be. Your brother is right. You are too willful. You can’t allow yourself to speak out of turn at the Red Keep. Not with my brother, the Hand, there. Not when the King’s health worsens day by day and the winds carry whispers of war. Not when the House of the Dragon stands more divided than ever. House Hightower must stay united. This is a duty we all must endure. You too, red bird."

Alysanne fixed her eyes on the floor and swallowed, tasting salt in the back of her throat. "As you command, Father."

The banquet was a grand thing. Cooks outdid themselves with their best skills to honor and impress the Queen. She was given the best seat at the head of the table, with her son sitting next to her and Alysanne right beside him.

The young lady spent the afternoon in a bubble of doubt. She knew this day would eventually come, she had feared it, but now that it was actually happening, she didn’t know how she was supposed to feel. She wasn’t scared, but neither was she happy. What she knew for certain was that she didn’t want to leave Oldtown so soon.

And about the dragon prince, well…he had been polite, kind even, and it was indeed a great honor to marry a prince of the realm. But a kind smile was not enough to judge his character yet, and royal didn’t necessarily mean decent.

She was nervous when she sat at the table, but the more time she spent sitting beside him, the more she found that the prince was very pleasant company. He was young, yes, but it was clear he had a gentle soul and gentle manners. And this warmed her heart. Love in a marriage was rarer than a white raven, but so was a gentle husband. She found out he was fond of sweets, especially of cream, since she saw him set it on the left side of his plate, saving it for last. She smiled fondly at that and then she turned to him.

"My prince, if you don’t mind me asking, I was wondering if your Grace had brought your dragon here."

The young Prince set down the spoon and smiled eagerly. "I did, my lady. She’s flying somewhere but I can feel her close."

"You…you can feel her?"

"Yes. I can’t explain it...it is the strangest of feelings." he paused as to find the right words and said "Like…having a second heart, beating outside of you."

Alysanne smiled dreamily as if she was witnessing a mystery unraveling in front of her and the Prince smiled back.

"If you wish, I can take you to see her tomorrow."

Her heart jumped in her chest with trepidation.

"You are too kind, your Grace. I would love to be granted such a privilege."

Prince Daeron kept smiling and nodded. "Tomorrow, then."

When she went back to her chambers, the heavy grip on her insides had loosened. Septa Brenna began to untie the laces of her dress while Alysanne started to remove the hurting pins stuck into her auburn hair which, after so many hours, were positively piercing her skull.

She cast a glance at her Septa through the mirror, then set the hair pins down on the vanity table. "You knew, didn’t you?"

"I did." was all she said, keeping her gaze down and her hands busy on the laces.

Alysanne was quiet for some moments, then she turned forcing the older woman to stop her job.

"Will you come with me? To King’s Landing?"

Septa Brenna simply raised an eyebrow. "You silly child."

"Need I remind you you’re addressing a future Princess of the Realm?"

"I’m yet to see that day, princess." Then she sighed heavily, looking at the young lady with a patient motherly stare. “Do you really think I would let you go into that viper’s den all alone? Your head would be on a spike in less than a moon."

Alysanne couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. "That sounds a bit too dramatic. I am the Queen’s cousin."

"And you think that matters? History has taught us well that blood is more than often shed among kin, not strangers."

"You sure know how to lighten the mood."

Septa Brenna helped the young lady putting on her night gown and saw her grabbing a book left on the nightstand and going for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I need another book." she said, matter-of-factly.

"A future princess of the realm does not wander around at night in dark libraries."

Alysanne paused on the door and turned her head, smiling like a fox.

"Well, I’m yet to see that day."

She could reach the libraries blindfolded and walking backwards.

They were a bit ominous at night, the majestic walls swallowed by the shadows and yet Alysanne find them comfortable, found shelter in them. Thus, it was a bit surprising for her to see the light of a single candle moving between the massive shelves, a solitary ghost basking in the darkness. She was even more surprised to see that the ghost had taken the shape of Queen Alicent.

The woman was still wearing the green dress she wore at dinner, but her hair was loose, falling down her back in a cascade of dark curls. She stopped in front of a shelf and looked at the titles. Alysanne made her presence known by softly clearing her voice.

When Queen Alicent turned her head, Lady Alysanne bowed.

"My Queen. My apologies for intruding. I didn’t know you were here."

The woman smiled reassuringly. "No need for apology then."

She took a long look at her and noticed a book clutched to her cousin’s chest.

"Last time I was here, Maesters didn’t allow to borrow books from the libraries."

Alysanne widened her eyes like a deer caught in the middle of the wood but the Queen smiled again and said "Fret not, cousin. Your little felony is safe with me."

The young lady visibly relaxed and stood there for a moment, not knowing what to do or what to say to the most important woman of the realm and more than that, her future good mother.

"If you have any trouble finding sleep, I could fetch the maesters to bring you some lemon balm, your Grace."

"There’s no need, cousin. Thank you. I believe no kind of balm would soothe me enough to stop worrying about my children."

Alysanne slightly furrowed her brow. The Queen’s children were Princes of the Realm, living in the Red Keep, alongside the King. Why was she so worried to the point of not finding sleep?

"Sometimes books can soothe our nerves, take our mind somewhere else." she offered, glancing at the book shelf beside her "were you looking for something in particular?"

The Queen sighed clasping her hands on her womb. "I’m not sure. I’m looking for a gift. I wish to take a book to my son. My second son, Aemond." she gave Alysanne a knowing look before whispering "I know it’s not allowed to borrow books but surely the Maesters will close an eye for the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Your little felony is safe with me, your grace." she promised, returning the same look. "Does he like to read? Prince Aemond?"

"Too much, I’d wager. Mostly history and philosophy. I would like to give him something more…entertaining. But I can’t make up my mind."

Alysanne glanced back at the book shelf but then she remembered what she was holding.

"Take this." she said, offering the book to the Queen.

Alicent took it and read the title. "The legendary chronicles of Symeon Star Eyes. I’ve heard about it."

"It tells the legend of the blind warrior."

"And you believe it to be just that? A legend?"

"I believe legends always hide an ounce of truth, your Grace."

The Queen nodded and cast another glance at the cover.

"Thank you." she said finally, clutching the book to her chest.

"I saw you talking with my son earlier at dinner."

"Uhm, y-yes. Yes, your grace. The Prince was very kind and patient enough to suffer through all my questions about his dragon."

"I trust your father has talked to you, did he not?"

"He did, your Grace."

Queen Alicent nodded again and remained silent, looking at the young lady before her with a distant look. She seemed almost absent, as if her body was there but her mind was lost somewhere, in a thought, or some memory.

Then she sighed and stepped closer to Alysanne. There was an urgent honesty in her brown eyes.

"Unfortunately, we live in a manly word. Made for men and ruled by men. Our choices are not ours to make. But you can trust me with this, cousin. My son will treat you kindly. He is just a boy but he has a sweet disposition. And who knows…in time you might even learn to love him."

"Did you?"

The question left the Queen utterly stunned.

Alysanne immediately realised she had gone too far.

Did you learn to love him, the King?

For a moment she thought Ormund was right. She seriously had to learn when to shut her mouth.

It was the silly curiosity of a young girl. For everyone, in Old Town and even outside of its borders, knew that it was Otto Hightower who had put the royal sigil on House Hightower.

But at what cost?

The very same clad in green with chapped nails and tired eyes. The same woman who once was just a girl, just like Alysanne, with dreams and hopes—what was she now? A Queen, yes. But the more Alysanne looked into her eyes, the more she realised how old she looked. How miserable she seemed.

"I’m deeply sorry, your Grace. It was completely unacceptable for to me to ask you—"

"It’s quite alright, cousin." said Alicent, smiling reassuringly. Then she took a step closer and simply said "Thank you for the book. I bid you goodnight."

Before the Queen could leave the library, Alysanne reached her at the door.

"Your Grace, uhm…before you leave, I was wondering…how long will I stay here before joining you in King’s Landing?"

"There are quite few years ahead of us before the wedding. Have you had your first blood?"

"Not yet, your grace." she embarrassingly admitted.

"Do not worry about it. There’s plenty of time."

Young Prince Daeron kept his word.

The next morning, he summoned Lady Alysanne outside the castle and showed her Tessarion, or how she was called, the Blue Queen.

Much like her rider, Tessarion was still young, so her size was small. But small or not, Septa Brenna made her feelings about the creature quite clear while escorting Lady Alysanne.

"You hear me child? I’m not going anywhere near that thing." she warned, trying to keep up with the pace of her young lady. Alysanne laughed, eager to join the prince on the small hill where Tessarion had chosen to rest.

She widened her eyes when she saw her and stopped altogether. She couldn’t believe her own eyes. There was a dragon in front of her. A dragon in flesh. And she was beautiful, her wings and scales were dark blue, like cobalt, while her claws, crest, and belly took the shades of copper.

Her mouth fell open and she dared take one step closer, but the young Prince stopped her, raising his hand.

"I think it’s best to stay there, my lady. Tessarion is young and she doesn’t know you yet."

Alysanne nodded dutifully and looked back at the dragon. A growing smile bloomed on her pink lips. "She’s...so beautiful."

Daeron smiled proudly and looked at Tessarion, who was curiously observing the young lady through her golden eyes. The Prince touched her on the snout and even though she was several steps away from them, Alysanne could have sworn she heard the dragon make a low rumble, much like the purring of a cat.

She watched the prince say something to the dragon and not a moment later, the beast lurched onward and took to the skies, her blue wings blending with the sky.

"I guess she didn’t like me." the lady joked when the Prince approached her. He chuckled, his wavy silver hair ruffled by the wind. "I’ve told her to do as she likes. She needs to know the sky."

Alysanne watched the winged shape disappearing above the clouds and asked "How many dragons are there now in King’s Landing?

"Three, my lady."

She turned to him furrowing her brow and he heard her silent question.

“My brother, Aemond, he doesn’t have a dragon. His egg didn’t hatch.”

“Oh.” was all she said.

She remembered reading about the Targaryens and their mighty dragons. She read everything about the custom of putting a dragon egg into the crib.

She also knew that if the egg didn’t hatch, it was considered a gloomy message from the Gods. A bad omen.

“One day…” Prince Daeron’s voice shook her from her memories "when Tessarion has known you better and she’s big enough to saddle two…one day I will take you to the skies with me, my lady."

Alysanne smiled fondly at him, feeling the adrenaline flowing through her veins at the mere thought of flying on dragonback.

A silly dream. A childish dream. Yet destined to come true.

Though it will not be the Blue Queen who will take Lady Alysanne to the skies, but Vhagar, Queen of All Dragons and Ruler of the Skies.

Thank you so much for reading!! 💚💚

#red bird #liv (in la vida loca) #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x fem!oc #aemond targaryen x ofc #ewan mitchell #hotd fic #aemond x oc #aemond x fem!oc #aemond targaryen #dark aemond targaryen #dark aemond #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen smut #aemond imagine #house of the dragon fanfic

[stardustdreams-andcaffeine]

Reluctant Protector | Din Djarin

Part 2 of 2

Din Djarin x Fem!reader

Summary: After being abandoned as a child, you grew up working for one of the most prolific crime lords in the galaxy in order to survive. It all comes crashing down as a split second decision has the Mandalorian hunting you. As it turns out, your hunter might be the only one who can save you. After all, the lines between predator and prey have always been blurred.

Warnings: angst (what's new), mild language, panic attack, violence, fluff, mentions of human trafficking (brief), Mando being a fool in love, adult themes throughout, happy ending (again, what's new)

A/N: This is part two to the request I mentioned! Once again, got carried away and I kinda love it, hope you love it too!

Part 1

You managed to wrestle off the growing panic attack for close to an hour after Din left.

You sat close to the child, reminding yourself that Din at the very least would not leave the youngling he protected so dearly. When your mind began to doubt even that certainty, you could not stop the flashbacks when they began. The scenes of that night you remembered so well began to torment you. 

Flashes of your father’s last words, of his lies that your innocent being so willingly believed. Flashes of your mother’s absent gaze. Flashes of Vince swooping in to claim you. 

Vince. Din had said it himself, the bounty was at an unbelievably high credit amount by now, and only a fool would keep helping a bounty that could fetch such a high price.  This thought crumbled whatever little strongholds remained on your self control and you shot to your feet, garnering a confused babble from the kid. 

“Stay here,” You breathlessly instructed, touching the blaster at your waist as you stumbled for the hatch. 

You would not be left, not this time. Not again. Not when Din meant so much to you. 

You made sure to close the hatch behind you to protect the youngling within and set off for the city beyond where Din had no doubt ventured to begin his hunt. Your vision was blurred with uncried tears, and your chest was ever so slowly constricting upon your heart and lungs. Your stomach twisted with nausea and breathing became a conscious chore as you grappled for sanity, for reality. You would find him, you decided. You would find him and help him on the hunt.

It was stupid and irrational to anyone else, but you were haunted by ghastly memories and scarred by trauma and it wasn’t stupid to you. All you could manage to think was that it would not happen again. You would not be left again.

Din Djarin

Din trailed his target from afar, his trained eyes tracking the bounty’s every move and interaction. 

After close to an hour and a half, he’d finally managed to banish you from the center of his thoughts and instead focus on the task at hand. But even then, as he waited for the bounty to enter a vulnerable, isolated area where he could confront them, Din could not stop his mind from traipsing to the Vince situation. 

You had been dragging your feet for weeks to come up with a solid plan to confront your old boss, and Din knew that it was because of the way you felt indebted to Vince for raising and protecting you all of those years. You had never mentioned how you’d come into his service, but Din knew well enough that Vince was the father figure in your life. As much as he wanted to let you have time to keep working through that struggle, Din knew that time was running out. The hunt for you was only intensifying, and soon enough the two of you wouldn’t be able to keep up this quiet lifestyle. You’d be on the run, and Din wanted nothing more than for you to be at peace. 

He was so distracted by that thought that he hadn’t even noticed the growing commotion on the street below his perch until the scream of civilians and the crashing of metal and glass caught his attention. Din snapped his gaze down to the street only for his heart to drop straight to the floor.

Because there you were, sprinting as hard as you could away from a hunter with a tracking fob in their grasp. 

Din instantly snapped into action, a nasty curse slipping past his lips as he dropped down from the roof he was crouching on and broke into a run. He cursed you in his head, furious that you’d left the safety of the Crest even when he’d told you not to. 

“Move.” Din growled, shoving past patrons and bystanders as he sprinted after the trailing commotion of you and the bounty hunter. 

Thinking quickly, Din took a shortcut through an alleyway. After scaling the wall at the end of it and dropping at the other side, he managed to emerge just ahead of your frantic escape. Adrenaline tangling with dread in his blood, he managed to grab ahold of your running form just as you sprinted past the alley’s opening. Whipping you inside, he had you pinned against the back wall with a hand at your mouth to silence you before you could even scream. 

The panic in your eyes at the sudden movement lessened as your eyes focused on him, your body pinned snugly between the wall and his beskar-plated chest. This was the closest he had ever been to you, what with no space at all remaining between the two of you. If it were a different circumstance, Din’s mind would be clouded with thoughts of your body so close to his. 

But there was a hunter after you, and for that reason alone Din forced himself to ignore the press of you against him.

Din could hear your voice muffled against his hand, but didn’t pay attention as he pressed closer to hide you and glanced out of the alley just as the bounty hunter jogged past. The hunter looked utterly confused, wondering where their bounty had just disappeared to. 

Before the hunter could think again, Din had released you and rushed them. He grabbed the hunter and dragged them into the alley harsher than he had you, and just as he did, you whipped out your blaster and landed a fatal blow to the hunter’s chest. Din released the hunter, letting their body slump to the ground between the two of you. As a deafening silence settled over the absence of chaos, Din looked up from the hunter and to your trembling form. 

He was furious. 

You had almost gotten yourself captured, and he never would have known until he would have returned to the Crest after the hunt and seen you gone. The very thought had his throat closing in terror, and it was that terror that Din was able to blanket and express as rage to hide the blatant outpouring of how he really felt about you. 

“Vaabir gar ganar a jaro?” Din raged, not even realizing the words were Mando’a until he saw the flash of confusion on your utterly perfect face that was contorted with an emotion Din was too angry to notice. He repeated, “Do you have a death wish?”

“Din, I-” You tried, your voice trembling almost as badly as your body. 

“You could have gotten killed, or worse!” He shouted. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly now, and in his horror-driven anger, he still hadn’t noticed. You had never heard him speak this loudly before.

“I-I’m sorry.” Your voice was frail and unsure, so unlike how you usually were, “You left me, and I didn’t…I didn’t know what to do.”

Din stormed forward, grabbing your arm firmly, but nowhere near painfully, “I said I was coming back! Why would you-”

Din’s words died on his tongue. Now that he was touching you, he finally noticed the tremors surging through your body. Like the plug of a drain had been pulled, his rage flooded away and he could no longer conceal the concern he harbored for you. Din examined your face for a moment and took in the faraway, haunted look in those stunning eyes of yours. He saw the way you weren’t fully present in this moment and he realized suddenly that you weren’t just scared, you were in the midst of some sort of panic attack.

“Cyar’ika, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Din’s voice was tender compared to the fury that had bridled it before. “You left me,” You repeated, ever so softly and brokenly, “You left me and I didn’t know if you were going to…going to…”

You couldn’t even get the words out, you were so badly shaken, and it broke something so deeply within Din. Suddenly, he couldn’t care less that you had almost been captured. All Din could think about right now was how to help you, how to bring you back to him. 

In the darkness of the alley, Din brought his hands to your face. His thumbs ran along your tear-streaked cheeks and Din knew that the sight of your tears was one of the most rattling he’d ever encountered. He wished he could mark down every one of them and note where and who they came from so he could hunt them down and make them pay. 

“What’s wrong, cyare? I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, sweetheart.”

Your hands grabbed onto Din’s arms as he cupped your cheeks in his hands. To Din, it almost seemed as though you were holding onto him as if your life depended on it.

“You can’t leave me too,” You finally managed to gasp out, your large, panicked eyes rising to meet his through his mask, “You can’t leave me too.”

The very thought of leaving you made his stomach turn and Din instantly let go of you just so he could tug you close to his body. He’d never wanted to take off his armor as badly as right now. He wanted to pull you closer, closer than the beskar allowed. The way you instantly crumbled into him made his heart shatter, and it killed him not to understand why someone so fortified and seemingly unshakable was so utterly terrified. 

“I’m not gonna leave you, cyar’ika,” Din mumbled, rooting one of his hands through your hair to hold you closer to his chest, “I’m not gonna ever leave you.”

In that moment, Din forgot everything else besides what it felt like to have you in his arms. He wished that it could last forever, but he knew that this was only a temporary fix to whatever was happening to you. Besides, the longer you were out here, the more likely it was that another hunter followed a tracking fob here and found you. 

“Come on, let’s get back to the Crest,” Din softly urged, pulling back but not daring to let go of you. Instead, he kept his arm wrapped protectively around your waist as he led you back to the Crest. 

He needed answers. He needed to know what had caused you to be in such distress. 

|||

Your POV

It had been nearly three hours since the incident in the town today. 

In the time that followed, Din had gotten you back to the Crest and launched you immediately off of the planet and into a far corner of the galaxy from Serreno. 

Once he was sure you were far from the planet you’d just been tracked down to, he left the cockpit and settled you onto the cot in your room with a blanket around your shoulders. He left only for a handful of minutes before he was back with a steaming mug of soothing tea. Then, he simply sat down beside you in silence, allowing you to soak in his presence and strength until you felt ready to speak. 

Now, hours past the episode earlier, you finally had worked up the courage to speak to him.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” You mumbled, not being able to meet the Mandalorian’s gaze, “I know I jeopardized all of our safety by leaving and I know I should have listened-”

“Hey, stop that,” Din interrupted, making your rambling instantly stop. You kept your gaze firmly down on your lap and you heard him sigh from beside you, “Look at me, cyar’ika.”

Cyar’ika. You weren’t entirely sure what the word meant in the common tongue, but coming from Din it sent warmth spiraling through you. Din surprised you by gently grabbing your chin and turning your face to meet his. 

“I’m not mad at you. I was just…scared.” 

The rumble of his voice grounded you, and as he dropped his hand from your chin you almost reached out to stop him. 

One vulnerable moment passed by and you sighed deeply, “I was too.”

That was what Din had been waiting for, you could tell by the way his entire body seemed to stiffen. With intrigue that he could not hide well, he tilted his head at you. 

“Why?”

The question jolted through you even though you had known it would be coming. You peered deeply into the depths of his mask that had become a safe haven to you, and you made a choice.

“My parents abandoned me when I was seven years old,” You started. And when the Mandalorian bounty hunter, perhaps the most intimidating person you’d ever met, reached over and took your hand in his, you had the strength to keep speaking.

You told him everything. Afterwards, as you lay staring up at your ceiling that night, you realized just exactly what Din Djarin meant to you. 

And you were finally ready to let go of Vince Hanon.

|||

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

The Mandalorian’s voice rang with uncertainty just as you finished rigging up the comlink with an untraceable chip, just as Vince taught you as a child.

“Have a little faith in me,” You quipped, glancing up at Din as you leaned back in your chair sat across from him with the rigged comlink between you, “I know Vince Hanon better than anyone. It will work.”

Din sighed, resting back in his chair and propping one arm up on the side of it, “As long as that comlink won’t lead him right to us, I guess nothing bad can come of a conversation.”

“I’ve been rigging coms since I was eleven, Mando. This baby is untraceable,” You assured, savoring his low laugh in response. The two of you sat in Peli’s hanger on Tatooine. You had met her only a week ago, and yet she’d taken quickly to you. Already, you felt the familiar ache in your chest every time you had to leave just as you began to make a friend. 

You couldn’t allow yourself to think that way, not right now. So. you sucked in a deep breath and leaned forward, activating the comlink. A series of beeps sounded out as you typed Vince’s connection swiftly into the com and then…silence. 

Silence.

Silence.

And then…

“I have to admit, Prodigy. It took you longer than I originally bet to contact me. I’m impressed.”

As Vince’s voice wafted out of the comlink and stung your ears, you had to bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep from breaking apart all over again. In a moment, you had your composure back and leaned forward, feeling the intense gaze of Din all the while.

“What else did you bet on concerning me, Vince? I’m sure you’ve lost more than a few up to this point.” Your voice was sharp and light, and you hoped Vince did not see through the ruse and notice how frantic you really were within.

His laugh barked through the comlink, setting you slightly at ease. At least he wasn’t yelling. Yet. 

“Good to hear you haven’t changed,” Vince mused.

“You’d be surprised,” You bit out. On the other end, Vince hummed in response. 

“Tell me, my prodigy. What is it that pushed you to contact me now, after months of running?”

“It’s just that,” You replied, your heart now ricocheting in your chest. This was it. What came next were the lies, and you hoped and prayed that he would buy them, “I’m tired of running. I want to know what it’s going to take for you to end this, to let all of this stop.”

“Aw, now tell me the truth darling,” Vince tsked, and you nearly lost your cool as you waited in dread-filled anticipation for what he would say next, “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that Mandalorian that you’ve had as your guard dog, now would it?”

You made sure to wait a beat to respond, “He left me on Serenno. Now I’m on my own, and I think we both know how long I’ll last like that.”

There was another pause, and your mind was racing with the possibilities of what would happen should he not believe you. 

Vince sounded humored when he finally responded, “He left you. I’m sorry child, but I’m starting to see a pattern here. First your parents, and now your bounty hunter.”

“Watch your mouth, Vince.” Your anger was not forced. 

“Oh, I struck a chord there.” Then he paused again, and laughed suddenly into the silence, “Oh no, please don’t tell me you grew to care for this bounty hunter.”

Suddenly, Din’s gaze on you was burning hot and your heart missed more than one beat. You had to grapple to keep your composure, for it felt almost exposing to have this topic brought up when you knew you wouldn’t have to lie as much.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. He left, and now I need to know what it’s going to take for you to end this hunt,” You gritted out. 

“Come back to me, then I’ll call it off.”

You didn’t even hesitate.

“Not a chance,” You assured, your pulse racing a bit faster, “You’re a businessman, Vince. Let’s make a deal.”

This was it. That was the bait, now you just had to wait and see if he’d take it. 

And if you knew anything about Vince Hanon, you knew that he couldn’t deal over a comlink.

“Tempting,” He pondered, seeming to pause to consider the trap laid before him. You were sure he considered that possibility, that the Mandalorian had not left and you were setting him up, which you were. Luckily for you, Vince Hanon had always underestimated you. 

“Tell you what,” Vince finally decided, making you sit up a bit straighter and look over at Din briefly in anticipation, “Come back to homebase, alone. We’ll talk and see if we can’t come up with something.”

“And how am I supposed to be sure you’re not going to attack me as soon as I do?” I questioned in return.  Vince laughed heartily across the comlink.

“Oh how I’ve missed you, my prodigy,” Vince chuckled, sighing to himself, “We’ll make it a neutral zone. You have my word if I have yours.”

You knew he was lying, but you could lie too.

“Done,” You reply. 

“Good,” Vince purred, his voice making your stomach turn, “I’ll see you tomorrow. I have missed you.”

That was the one part that you could not be sure was a lie or not. 

“See you then,” Was all you said in response before shutting off the comlink and sitting back with a huff of relief. After a brief pause of silence, you glanced up to see Din already looking at you. 

“Told you it would work.”

Din nodded, standing up from his spot across from you, “Now for the hard part.”

The two of you had walked through this plan at least a hundred times in the last week. It was simple. Get access to Vince’s homebase, get him to talk with you, and then, when his guard was down, Din would come in through one of the secret passages only you and Vince knew about and help you end this for good. 

You stood as Din made his way over to you and handed you a small pouch heavy with metal, “Here’s enough credits to get a ship. There’s a shipyard a couple hundred paces from where we’re docked. Get one and head straight for the homebase. I’ll trail you there tomorrow morning.” You accepted the credits gratefully and nodded, “Remember, be careful. Vince will have all of his outposts looking for you. He doesn’t trust me anymore, he’ll be expecting you.”

Din nodded stiffly, “I’ll make sure the kid is safe with Peli before I leave.”

You nodded in return, and the two of you stood there in tense silence for a moment. You both knew what was coming next, and you both knew the risks.

“It’s gonna work. I know it will,” Din assured. You took in a deep breath, your brows drawn in worry as you met his gaze through the dark of his mask. 

“It has to.” You suddenly were slammed with a piercing ache in your chest as you realized this was a goodbye. Even if it was just for now, it scared the hell out of you. 

You didn’t want to leave him.

Without uttering another word, Din stepped forward and tugged you close to him. He seldom hugged anyone, and had only done so once with you when you had completely broken down before him on Serenno. Now here he was, holding you just as close as you were holding him. 

“Thank you,” You breathed, not moving back an inch, “For everything. I could never repay you for all of this.”

“You’re not gonna pay me for helping you. I’m not in this for a profit.” He rumbled, and his voice once again reminded you of what home really was, “If I was, I would’ve turned you in months ago.”

A surprised laugh broke through you and you stepped back, reluctantly pulling yourself out of his arms, “Another joke, this is becoming a new habit.”

“Only for you, cyar’ika.” His voice was like honey to your soul and you were reminded of how addicted you were. 

How in the hell did this happen? When you first met him, he was a hunter and you were his bounty. He then became your reluctant protector, which you could understand enough, but now….Somehow Din Djarin went from a reluctant protector to the one person who made you believe in fate. 

“Be safe, Din.” You instructed as you slowly walked back. 

“You too.”

And then you left, turning around and heading for the shipyard he pointed out. As you did, your heart stayed right there with the beskar-coated Mandalorian. 

His hands were safe, they would protect your heart. Even if he wasn’t aware he had it yet. 

|||

Walking back along Vince’s turf, you realized just how many scars you bore from this place. 

Some were physical, but most were internal. Either way, those scars reminded you of the caution you needed to proceed with and exactly what was at stake. Those scars helped you walk with assurance into the mansion that you had fled from what felt like a lifetime ago. 

“There you are! The lost child finally comes home.” Vince’s voice echoed through the halls of his mansion, making adrenaline spike instantly through your veins. The crime boss walked to meet you in the foyer of the mansion, his lips alight with a smirk but his eyes uneasy. 

“She came alone, sir,” One of the five guards with you reported, before holding up a single blaster gifted to you by Din, “She was armed only with this.”

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, prodigy?” Vince mused, taking the blaster and examining it for a moment before tossing it aside. The metal guns slid across the polished floor.

“Five guards, is that really necessary Vince?” You inquired, gesturing to the five hulking members of Vince’s crime organization around you. All of them were familiar to you. In fact, you were close friends with most of them before your fallout with Vince. To be on the other side of this was about as unpleasant as you assumed it would be 

“As I said, you are full of surprises. I had to be sure you would hold up the neutral zone,” Your old boss replied, examining you closely for a moment before turning and leading you off into the mansion you knew like the back of your hand, “Come. Let’s find a place to talk.”

Vince led you off into the bulking facility, finally guiding you into the massive conference room where he holds most of his meetings. The room sat near the highest floor of the mansion and jutted out the side, leaving nothing between you and the floor hundreds of feet below except for a solid, metal floor. 

To fully convey the type of business meetings Vince held here, there was a large, circular hole in the middle of the floor near where Vince finally stopped walking. Air roared in through the hole, and you didn’t have to question what it was for. You’d seen Vince use it before when clients were being…less than compliant. The drop was fatal, and there was no one who had ever survived it.

“Now, you wanted to talk so badly. So talk, child.” Vince announced, turning to you with an almost taunting gaze. 

You wasted no time getting to the point, “What is it going to take for you to stop this hunt?”

“Woah now,” Vince chuckled, clasping his hands before himself, “Let’s ease into this. First, I have a question I have just been dying to ask you.”

He took your silence that followed as a sign to continue on, “Just how did you manage to get the Mandalorian bounty hunter to be your loyal guardian?”

“I don’t know why he did it,” You responded truthfully. You left it at that, not wanting to do the ‘small talk’ thing with Vince. 

“I mean, it really is quite interesting. A bounty hunter as respectable as the Mandalorian tracks you down, but instead of cashing in my generous bounty, he helps you evade me. Then again, you always did know how to sweet talk, didn’t you?”

His words bit into you and you absorbed them with as much composure as you could. Surprisingly, you found that they did not hurt you as much as they would have months ago. Vince’s words are beginning to mean less to you with every passing day. 

“Get to the point, Vince.” You drawled out. He is unfazed by your words and continues on his tangent as he often does.

“What really boggles me, though, is that he just left. He didn’t cash in your bounty, he just…left. Why is that?” Vince presses, looking like a cat that has caught a mouse in a trap. You refused to be trapped, though, and didn't cower away. 

“Your guess is as good as mine.” 

Vince hummed to himself, his eyes seeming to pierce straight through you, “So you do care for him, then.”

That took you by surprise, but you absorbed it as best as you could. 

“Until he left me,” You admitted, deciding to allow Vince a hint of truth caught in the lies you were spinning, “But I guess you and I both have a habit of caring for people we probably shouldn’t.”

Finally, you were able to catch him by surprise with your biting retort. Even the guards around you seemed to take in a collective, sharp gasp. Vince’s gaze faltered, and you could see the fury he kept well-hidden behind his smirks and calm facade. 

“You wanted to do business, so let’s do business,” He averted, and you took the small victory his avoidance indicated.

“I’ll call the hunt off with one condition. Come back to work for me, and all will be forgiven.” This time, you actually laughed.

“You’re kidding, right?” You retorted, looking at Vince as though he was insane, “I came here to compromise. You want me to work for you again, but I never will. Now, we have to find a common ground. We have to make a deal.”

“I’ve taught you well,” The crime boss admitted. All the while, your mind was split. You knew that Din was somewhere close by right about now, and you would only need to stall for a little while longer before he showed up. 

“What do you propose?” You pushed, needed to continue the conversation to give Din more time to get into the mansion. Vince paused for a long while, and the guards around began to get antsy in the silence. They shifted from foot to foot before finally Vince broke the silence. 

“Here is your deal,” He finally spoke, his eyes lit up with excitement as he surveyed you, “I will give you a test. If you pass, I’ll call off the bounty. I’ll even publicly announce a penalty if anyone still pursues to take or harm you.”

You went to respond when he pressed on, “And you will have your freedom from me.”

This was where you faltered. You knew that Din was close and that soon enough everything you were dealing with Vince would not even matter, but his offer still made you pause. Interested, you couldn’t help but take the bait. 

“What’s the test?” You asked warily.

“And where’s the fun in that?” Vince hummed, shaking his head at you, “You’ll have to take the deal before I tell you.”

That was a dangerous game. You had no idea what his ‘test’ was, and you knew that whatever it was would not be pleasant. But, you were running out of time to stall Vince and you needed to buy Din more time. 

So, you did exactly what he wanted you to do. Din would be here soon anyways, what would the deal really stand for?

“Deal,” You agreed. You watched surprise flicker across Vince’s features. He hadn’t expected you to agree so easily. Looking all too pleased with himself, Vince clapped his hands together.

“Wonderful!” He turned to gesture to two of the five guards surrounding the room, “Please bring in our test.”

The two guards spared you a long glance, and in that glance you noticed a shred of pity. These were people you grew up around, people whose lives you’d saved and who had saved yours. To see them hesitant to do Vince’s bidding made you even more uneasy, but it brought you a shred of hope. If these guards still shared a thread of loyalty to you, maybe they would not kill you if it came to that. 

You were so focused on thinking about your own survival that you didn't even realize the guards were dragging someone, not something, into the conference room until a glint of light on metal caught your eye.

Nothing could have prepared you for what you saw when you looked up, because there he was. Your Mandelorian. He was in cuffs, stripped of his weapons, positioned right near the open hole in the floor, and…

A gasp left your lips and before you could register what was happening your eyes were locking with his. Not his mask, with his eyes. They took his helmet off, and now you were looking at Din Djarin’s face. 

You allowed yourself one selfish second of taking in the sheer rugged beauty of his features that nearly knocked you off of your feet before you forced your eyes to train on Vince. If you closed your eyes like you wanted to, it would give away too easily just how deeply you cared for Mando. You didn’t want to shatter his anonymity, but you knew there was no escaping it. That didn’t stop the guilt that shriveled in your gut, or the memory of those piercing brown eyes that was being burned into your brain. 

“What the hell is he doing here?” You asked, masking your sudden, rising panic with feigned anger. Vince looked all too smug as he waltzed over to Din and placed a hand on his beskar-armored shoulder. His face was drawing you in like a magnet, but you forced yourself not to look. Din didn’t choose to do this, to break his code and his way of life, you couldn’t violate him like that. 

No matter how badly you wanted to see his breathtaking face again.

“I caught him on the outskirts of my mansion,” Vince replied, making you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from flinching or showing your terror, “Which is interesting since you just said that he had left you.”

“He did,” You asserted, not fully being able to hide the tremble in your voice, “On Serreno. I don’t know why he’s here.”

Vince laughed at that, “Oh I have a few ideas. Your freedom depends on which one of them is true.”

“What’s the test?” You gritted out, your heart beginning to keep an irregular beat. 

“The test is simple,” Vince announced, walking away from Din who was surrounded by two of the three guards and approaching you, “Prove to me that you do not care for the Mandalorian.”

“What?” you breathed out, growing more and more erratic with each passing moment. Vince just kept on smiling

“Prove to me that he means nothing to you. Prove that he’s not here because he never left you at all and this is all a trap for me. Prove that you do not care for him.” His words were dripping with arrogance, but you knew Vince Hanon well enough to see the truth. His words rang with jealousy. 

Vince could not stand the very thought that you could care for someone who was not him. He wanted to be the only person you truly cared about, he wanted you to love him like a little girl would her father, he wanted you to love him like he loved you. 

But a father would never do this, and this wasn’t love. 

You had always wanted to love Vidar like you saw other children love their parents. You wanted him to be the father you had lost so badly that you were willing to convince yourself that he really cared and that you did too. You both had been lying to yourselves, but it was too late now.

Now, you had to play along and find a way to save the one person you truly cared for.

“How?” You asked, trying to look as calm as you could. Vince seemed surprised by your sudden shift in character and seemed to lower his guard for a moment. He grabbed the blaster the guards had confiscated from you and shoved it into your hands.

“Take this, and shoot your Mandalorian in the head.”

Your world seemed to stop as you simply stared down at the gun in your hands. No longer being able to avoid it, you gave in to your desires and looked up to lock eyes with Din. He was already staring right at you, so as soon as your eyes met, something broke within your gaze so that only Din could see it. 

He was so so handsome, and you realized that they had taken off his helmet not just to allow you to shoot him, but to try and shake you as well. Before you could even turn the blaster on Vince, your boss interrupted, “And don’t even think about shooting me instead. If you do, Mando here will be dead before I can even hit the ground.”

On cue, the two guards who you were raised with lifted their blasters to point at Din from either side. True helplessness welled up in your gut. There was no way out of this. There was no way you could save him without giving yourself up. 

As you raised your blaster to point at Din’s head, you knew you couldn’t do it. Din saw the brief flash of defeat flicker through your gaze, and his features went from nervous to utterly frantic. He didn’t dare say a word, but he shook his head the slightest bit. His intentions were clear.

Do it, Din was practically screaming at you, Kill me. Don’t go back to Vince.

The blaster shook in your hands, and you once again saw the pity on the guards' faces as tears blurred your vision. With every moment that passed, your facade crumbled. It was plain to anyone in the room that you were moments from agreeing to go back to Vince, and Din was growing more and more restless.

“Come on,” Din breathed, so low you could barely hear it. 

Your heart was shattering within your chest and a single tear managed to slip down. That was your tipping point, and you no longer tried to hide the quivering of the blaster in your hands. Din’s gaze was growing desperate the more distraught you became, for he knew exactly what you were going to do to save his life. 

In an act of pure defeat, you dropped the blaster with hot tears already slipping past your defenses. Din struggled slightly against the vice grips the two guards had on him, and it only deepened the crack opening in your chest. When your eyes clashed with his, you knew this was it. 

You looked over to Vince, not able to look at the despair in Din’s gaze. Just as you were about to say you were going to go back to Vince, you noticed the twitch of pure rage across your old boss’s features. There was a flicker of jealousy that quickly followed, and then, quicker than you could stop it, Vince took a step closer to Din.

“Always have to do it myself,” Vince spat, turning to the Mandalorian and kicking him squarely in the chest.

You gasped in horror as Din’s eyes went wide and he stumbled backwards towards the opening in the floor leading to a couple hundred foot drop.

“NO!” You cried out, shoving away from the guards around you and tossing the blaster aside. The only thing you could see was the Mandalorian falling without his jetpack that they no doubt stripped from him.

You sprinted as hard as you could, and before anyone could stop you, you dove and slid across the hard floor. You slowed to stop at the edge of the hole and threw your arm down, managing to latch onto the cuffs bracing Din’s arms just as he fell through. 

The weight of Din snapped you forward towards the hole, and you had just enough time to brace a foot against the lip of the hole as you held fast to your Mandalorian. Your soul-sighing relief at catching him did not last long when his weight held by one of your hands on his cuffs dislocated your shoulder with a sickening crunch.

Your scream of agony echoed through the meeting room, and you managed to pry open your eyes to peer down at Din through the roaring of wind. Your eyes met his as he dangled hundreds of feet above the ground, the only thing keeping him alive being your already-weakening hand secured to his restraints. 

“Din,” You breathed, your tears falling down into the wind. 

The horrifying sound of cracking metal made you snap your attention to his restraints. Under his weight, they were beginning to bend and fail. 

“You gotta let me go,” Din choked out, and more tears fell on cue. You shook your head almost violently, your vision dotting with white amidst the blinding pain. 

“Help him!” You begged, your voice raw and cracking, “Help him, please!”

One of the guards moved to help you, but Vince stopped them with one raised hand, “I will. If you agree to rejoin my organization.”

“No!” Din’s sudden shout, something extremely rare for the Mandalorian, took you by utter surprise, “Don’t. Please.”

More cracking sounded from his restraints, and in a matter of seconds, the metal binding his hands together had begun to snap apart. You had enough time to latch onto one of his wrists just as the restraint integrity failed and snapped apart, but the weight of holding him by one hand only now nearly tore you apart in anguish.

You couldn’t lift him on your own, not with your shoulder in this state. You couldn’t save him, not without damning yourself. 

“I’m sorry,” You sobbed, looking down at the man who had saved your life. 

“Cyar’ika please, don’t do this. Just let me go,” Din pleaded. 

You could tell that he was trying to pry his hand free from yours to make the choice for you, but you held fast to his wrist.

“I can’t.” Your breath was almost lost to the wind, but it was loud enough for Vince and his men when you spoke next.

“I’ll do it, I’ll come back to you! Just help him.” And with that, your fate was sealed. 

The guards sprung into action, darting forward and grabbing onto the Mandalorian and tugging him out of the hole. Relief danced with misery in your chest as you helped drag him fully out. As soon as his body was out, Din slid away from the drop off and tugged your body instantly into his. 

You melted into him, dropping your head into the crook of his neck and savoring the feel of his stubble. One of his arms was wrapped around your back diagonally, holding you impossibly close. With the other, he gently prodded your injured shoulder. You hissed instantly in pain, wincing as his fingers danced across it. 

“I know, darling. I know,” Din murmured, then held you closer as he quickly and expertly relocated your shoulder. Your cry of pain was short and immediately chased with a relief of pressure that made you drop further into him. One of his hands found your jaw and angled your face so your forehead was pressed against his. 

Skin on skin, breaths mingling—it would be heaven if you didn’t know the hell of saying goodbye was on the horizon.

“I’m sorry,” You sobbed, not caring what the two of you looked like to everyone else in the room with you practically in his lap, “I’m so sorry.”

“None of that,” Din urged, his nose brushing yours, “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

There was such defeat in his tone that it tore you apart. There was so much you hadn’t told him, so much he didn’t know about how you felt about him. You did not have to look around to know that the five guards who were once your family were watching the ordeal with a somber facade.  

“Din-”

“I know,” He whispered, his lips brushing yours and sending electricity crackling through your body. 

You knew Vince was watching your every movement and you knew that if he was jealous before, he’d kill you for this, but you did not care. All you cared about was that the Mandalorian was holding you close and his lips were so close to yours that they almost touched. 

So you leaned forward and pressed a feather light kiss to his lips. 

You wanted more, and you could tell from the way Din almost chased your lips after you pulled away that he did too. You couldn’t, though. Not if you didn’t want Vince to kill him. But that one small, fleeting kiss was enough to ignite you, to strengthen you, to forever rip you apart. A confirmation of what was swirling in your chest and a reminder of what now could never be.

It was Vince Hanon’s voice that broke the silence, but not in the way you expected him to. 

“You love him.” Not a question, a statement. 

The words jolted through you, but you accepted them with a bittersweet ache of your chest. You locked your gaze with the dark brown eyes of the Mandalorian and nodded, “I do.”

Those two words seemed to shatter whatever was left in the depths of those brown eyes. There was a solemn silence that followed your response, and when Vince spoke next, it was so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

“Take him and go.”

Not daring to hope in the words just uttered, you swiveled around to lock your gaze with the equally broken one of your old boss. Vince Hanon looked down at you and for once, you could see a flicker of the love of a father in his torn eyes. 

“What?” You breathed. Vince swallowed hard and held his jaw tightly. 

“Take him and go,” He repeated, his eyes softening upon the closest thing to a family  that Vince had ever known, “You’re free.”

Not waiting to see if he would change his mind, Mando and you managed to climb to your feet. Instantly, you looked to the nearest guard who looked at you with…happiness. 

“His helmet and jetpack,” You inquire, to which the guard nods and jogs away to go and grab Din’s belongings. The Mandalorian’s hand dropped to grab onto yours and you looked over at him with a bright, uncontrolled smile. You didn’t know if you were going to be able to see his face at the end of this, so you tried to capture every detail. 

“Didn’t I tell you that it was all going to work-”

Your words were cut off sharply by the sound of a blaster followed by the explosion of searing heat through your upper torso. 

Bits of blood and seared flesh splattered across the beskar armor of the Mandalorian as, in the split second of happiness you both had allowed, Vince had changed his mind, and the love in his eyes had melted away as he lowered his smoking blaster. Your sharp groan of pain splintered through the shocked air, and your wide eyes met the petrified, fury-lined gaze of the Mandalorian.

“Y/N,” Din breathed, his arm circling your waist as you collapsed into him, “Y/N stay with me. Stay with me!”

His frantic voice was dulled in your ears as you slipped down to the floor. He followed you, cradling your body into his lap as your organs slowly began to shut down in the shock of the injury. Your breath came in gasps and you couldn’t seem to fill your lungs no matter how hard you tried. You managed to look over to Vince, who stared down at you in furious, jealous determination.

In his eyes you saw the answer to why he’d taken back his word—If I can’t have you, then neither can he.

“Kill the Mandalorian and dispose of the bodies,” Vince ordered flippantly, an ice cold wall slamming down within his mind. 

You clutched Din’s hand tightly, your half-lidded gaze slipping up to his. Not even thinking twice, Din held you close and shielded your body with his. It wouldn’t do much—you were already dying. You were going to die with him in his arms, and you could think of no better way to go. Just as you braced for the blaster shots, you heard the click of metal followed by an astonished gasp. Slowly, Din moved away from you and you heard him release a low, shaking breath. In your half-delirious state, you managed to look over to the source of the commotion. 

There was Vince Hanon, standing in shocked outrage as the five guards he’d just ordered to finish you and Din off now stood with their weapons pointed at Vince.

“Sorry boss,” One bit out, his chin lifted high as he defended you, “This one’s personal.”

At the rollercoaster of grief to panic to relief and back, your body slumped further into Din now that you knew the two of you were safe. 

Well, at least he was.

“Get the med kit!” Din shouted to one of the guards, who readily sped off to the corner of the meeting room and grabbed the bacta kit that was kept there for emergencies. Din looked back to you, running his hand along your hair, “You’re gonna be okay, cyare. You’re gonna make it.”

“Can we go home now?” You breathed, your eyelids growing heavier by the moment. Din nodded, running a finger along your cheek. 

“We’re gonna go home,” He vowed. 

It was his vow that allowed you to blissfully drift into the comfort the darkness brought you. 

|||

Arriving into consciousness was a series of steps. 

You remembered flashes of light and sound and beskar steel all wrapped in darkness and sleep. There were groggy memories of strong hands and whispered vows as you slowly ascended back into the waking world. 

When you finally awoke, you barely felt the pain you’d fallen asleep with.

As you slowly sat up, one hand braced against your barely tender and mostly healed torso, you took in the familiar surroundings of the Crest. With furrowed brows, you glanced around the small cramped room that had been yours during your months with the Mandalorian. 

Din. 

The thought shot you out of your half-awake stupor, your mind sharpening at the chaotic memories that infiltrated it. You and Din had survived. You had escaped Vince and you survived. 

Even though a part of you wanted to crawl back into bed and delay whatever conversation was coming, you forced yourself to stand on wavering feet. Instantly, you could feel the ache of the shoulder you had dislocated and a slight burn of pain where you had been shot.

With more strength than you previously thought you’d have, you stumbled out of your room and into the hull of the ship. The space was empty, but you heard the wafting of a voice from the cockpit above. So, gathering what little strength you had, you managed to make it up the ladder and up into the cockpit. As you swayed to your feet on the solid floor, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Din sitting in the pilot’s chair with the youngling beside him. 

“I don’t know, kid,” You heard him sigh, turning from the child to look out the front of the ship and into the space beyond, “She’s been out for three days. She should be awake soon.”

His voice was unsure, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your beskar-plated protector. The child noticed you before Din could, and his large dark eyes connected on you. The youngling let out an excited squeal and jumped down from his chair, scurrying over to you. 

“Hey kid what are you-”

Din’s voice cut off sharply when he heard your laugh and turned to see you hoisting the small, green child into your arms, “I missed you too, buddy.”

You smiled sweetly down at the youngling who nuzzled into you, melting your heart as you held him close. Even though your gaze was down on the kid, you could feel Din’s burning stare on you. Looking up, you smiled at the sight of that familiar helmet. 

“Morning,” You greeted. When Din slowly stood and said nothing, you gently set down the kid. You saw him take a shuddering breath, almost unnoticeable if he wasn’t the sole focus of your attention. 

“You shouldn’t have come up the ladder, could’ve gotten hurt.” Was all he said. You laughed softly.

“I think a fall from a small ladder would be the least of my injuries right now,” You pointed out. There was a dragging silence that followed, and your smile faded. There was no avoiding the conversation to come, “Din, I’m so sorry. So many things went wrong back there and I-”

Din just shook his head and moved so swiftly that it made your words stutter in shock. Before you could finish your apology, Din was pulling you into him. His grip was firm, but gentle around your injured shoulder. Now that he was touching you, you could feel the tremble of his hands. 

“I almost lost you,” He mumbled. Sudden, hot tears sprung to life in your eyes. 

“I almost lost you,” You reminded, holding him a bit tighter, “How am I alive?”

“Right after the shot, Vince’s guards helped stabilize you with bacta before we could get you to a chamber.”

You nodded, your throat nearly closing up at the thought of Vince’s guards turning on him. Now that your mind was upon the subject, you mumbled against Din’s chest, “And Vince?”

“His guards turned him over to the New Republic on attempted murder charges. They’re bringing the whole organization down.” Din answered, one of his hands stroking your hair.

You thought that hearing those words would burden you with guilt or haunt you with sour memories. But, for the first time since Vince took you in at seven years old, something within you could rest. It was over. The pain, the loneliness, the obligation to serve a man who you felt indebted to—all of it was over. 

Before you could reply, Din swiftly pulled back and slid his hands to cup your cheeks. Your heart missed two separate beats before it settled back into rhythm.

“Next time your life and mine are on the line, let me die.” It was not a suggestion, it was an order. 

“I can’t do that,” You all but whispered. He shook his head vehemently.

“Let. Me. Die. Are we clear?” Din repeated, no room for negotiation in his tone. You held his gaze through the beskar helmet for a long pause before a sad look passed through your gaze. You were transparent, and you knew there was no longer anything you could hide from him. 

“Let’s hope we’re never put in that position again,” Was all you could respond with that would be true. Din just shook his head at you, releasing your face and mumbling something beneath his breath about ‘stubborn’ and ‘head-strong’.

“If you were in my position, would you not have done the same thing?” You couldn’t stop the question, and even though you hid your curiosity with a scoff, the question burned in your mind. 

Would he? You were almost positive that he would have, but you needed him to say it. You needed to know that you weren’t being delusional in the heat of a chaotic moment. 

You needed to know if what you felt was shared by him.

The question seemed to catch the Mandalorian’s attention and he sighed, reaching up a hand to trace it along your cheekbone, “In a heartbeat. Cyar’ika, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

For a moment, you swore your heart stopped beating. The two of you were dancing around what was at the forefront of both of your minds, but you couldn’t last out much longer. As you stared into the shining beskar of his helmet, you remembered the features of his face. His rugged jaw and kind, brown eyes. You remembered it all. 

“How the hell did we get here?” You breathed, smiling up at Din softly. He let out a slightly trembling breath.

“I don’t know,” Din replied, swiping his thumb across your cheek again before settling his hand under your jaw, “But I think I was made to love you.”

If your heart stuttered before, it gave out completely now. For a moment, the only thing left in the galaxy was you and him and the youngling staring up at the two of you with large, curious eyes. You were where you belonged. Smiling, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the cool metal of his helmet. 

“I love you too,” You whispered, walking past him and settling into the seat beside him. As you did, the youngling walked up and jumped into your lap, making you giggle softly, “Where to, Mando?”

Din, almost seeming dazed, stumbled slightly to his chair and sat heavily. You chuckled at him as he fumbled with the controls for a moment before he cleared his throat and seemed to gain his composure.

“I need to find more of my kind to help with the kid,” Din replied, looking over to the small green child sitting in your lap. 

“Well then,” You sighed contently, strapping yourself into the chair and making sure to secure the child, “Let’s go find them.”

Din reached out a hand and grazed yours with it, holding it for a moment before turning to the control panel and punching coordinates. As you watched him, you knew you could do this forever. 

You still didn’t quite understand what could make two unlikely paths tangle. After all, you never should have met the Mandalorian. And even when you had, he was meant to be your reaper, your reckoning. 

Instead, he had become your everything. 

And if you had to endure your parents’ abandonment a thousand times over just to meet Din Djarin, you would do it with glee. 

Over and over and over again. 

#din djarin #din djarin angst #din djarin oneshot #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #angst #fluff #star wars #din x reader #din djaren #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #mando x reader #mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

[leportraitducadavre]

It is quite striking how the main plot of Naruto focuses on the problems brought about by a military system whose foundations are intrinsically patriarchal and how much of the “feminist fandom” focuses on the little to no inclusion of women within that system, rather than its dismantling, which was proposed to and tried to be carried out by other characters such as Konan (to mention a female character as bringing Sasuke to the picture might “compromise” the fandom’s idea of “feminism” that upholds itself under the notion that only women can be part of it).

To quote @dushman-e-jaan:

What’s even funnier is that the military as an institution is deeply patriarchal: it’s patriarchy at its best. So wanting Sakura’s inclusion into its apparatus is just a dull, neo-liberal contextualization of locating a “middle-class side-lined girl” into patriarchy and its state strongholds, its militia arms, extensions that are extensively, liberally, and fully utilized to maintain state’s oppression. Something which we saw in the case of Ame’s mass-starvation, Uchiha Massacre, Hyuuga Clan’s slavery, etc. In this regard, to Sakura fandom, inclusion in this oppressive-apparatus is a power-fantasy, a means to cut in on the action not cut it out; so therefore, the question shouldn’t be as to why Sakura isn’t included; it ought to be that why should there be any expansion on the basis of inclusivity into patriarchal institutions in lieu of smashing these systems? However, Sasuke’s just a mean “terrorist” who made “weh-men tears” flow, so the misogyny is just Q-anon deep, and nothing but tumblr feminism can unfurl its insidious tentacles.

In lesser terms, the problem with this idea of “inclusivity” within an intrinsically repressive patriarchal system is that it is sustained on a smoke screen that hides the rottenest veins of the state, because then what is relevant is not the dismantling of an oppressive, enslaving, and genocidal political system, but the lack of female participation within that oppressive, enslaving, and genocidal political system. To this specific “woke feminist” fandom that is the real problem, that is the real issue within such a mindset.

Women are forbidden or diminished from positions of power in a structure specifically designed to oppress different groups of people to keep others at the top of the pyramid, and instead of seeing such a construction as a direct reflection of the real world’s dogmas and the characters that oppose them as real world’s feminist, you lot complain about the lack of female representation or “female power” within that maniacal structure! You’re more concerned about women not being “housewives” inside a military state that rewards blind nationalism and punishes criticism with literal genocide, than dismantling the entire structure upon which such a patriarchal notion is built.

[The idea that women cannot show off and are forced into a lesser role or have their capabilities diminished in pursuit of the enhancement of male abilities is absolutely in line with the patriarchal structure that Naruto's military system reflects. Even the "sexism" that Kishimoto reflects within the manga is consistent with the political system he puts forward and disputing it to make it more "feminist-friendly" does nothing but detract from its verisimilitude.]

Funnily enough, even when I point this out, they will find a way to twist it to their own benefit, because then Kishimoto is the one responsible for not “allowing” female characters to rise against such a patriarchal system (despite Sakura never suffering any of its worst consequences as she was taught by the Hokage herself, or even Hinata getting to be a slave-owner). Inclusivity is everything that this argument boils down to, your twisted wish to see women at every single panel whether it’ll be against or in favor of a genocidal state.

That’s what “woke feminists” taught you and that’s what you’ll defend with your breath, the problem gets again individualized and the real issue, the real problem that the plot is trying to reflect, gets buried upon piles of these arguments.

“The problem is about the military state that at its core it’s patriarchal” =/= “Then why did he write it as a patriarchal state?”

“The military state it’s patriarchal at its core so it’s the real world one” =/= “Then why didn’t he write female characters rising against it?”

“There’re characters that oppose such structure, which is feminism at its finest.” =/= “But they aren’t female.”

And so on… it’s impossible to “win” or get our point across as you move the end goal every time a new argument arises. It’s about fulfilling your power fantasies of invincibility rather than bringing down the patriarchal structure; just like with Naruto’s character, is about gaining acknowledgment within the oppressive system (becoming a renowned/desired individual) rather than dismantling the power sphere to guarantee other minorities’ safety.

Their idea of feminism comes down to women having a more important part inside that tyrannical paradigm, bringing the power scale towards them. It’s not about stripping oppressive institutions of their power, but rather having influence over such spaces.

This is an example of White Feminism’s victory; white feminism doesn’t want the oppressive structure to be questioned, they don’t want their faint position of power to be argued; they want to expand their influence and reach beyond the usual cultural “female” spaces, so they bring down the discussion to simpler topics, like the idea of female participation in such affairs; if they are involved, then it’s good if they’re not, then it’s not.

Even the fact that many of these "feminists" jump to the other side and incur either in the over-festivity of the capabilities of female characters (some being basic skills such as moving with speed) or in the minimization of such to compare them with the "better" male capabilities (which only serve in more violent, clearly patriarchal issues to which these people consider superior given a clear misogynist internalization of the little relevance of powers that are not aligned with the intrinsic violence of the military system) contradicts their supposed dogma.

Under this premise, and I repeat myself because I must keep my arguments as simple and repetitive as possible, the patriarchal system against which they claim to rebel is sustained and deepened since the women who claim to subscribe to the feminist movement have modified their bases to obtain greater relevance, greater individuality among the exploited community -they stop being oppressed to some degree as a reward for their contribution, they become what they swore to destroy in exchange for “inclusion.”

True feminism is about the dismantling of an oppressive structure, passing through the various spheres of repression; gender disparity is only one of many power relations to be questioned, not the only one.

#naruto #naruto meta #white feminism #woke feminism #anti feminist fandom #anti sakura fandom #anti hinata fandom #anti hinata #anti sakura #in defense of kishimoto

[justaltruix227]

||Honeybee - Ranboo, Tubbo & Michael||

Song: Honeybee - Steam Powered Giraffe Art: FuzzyCryptid - YT Fandon: DSMP

"Oooo Ooo Oooo Ooo." The Enderman sat in a field of flowers humming to himself, tail flickering around as the wind carried some petals past.

"You didn't have to look my way." The Enderman tilts his head to the side, following the petals. Spotting the small ram and his son beginning to approach.

"Your eyes still haunt me to this day." A warm smile on the brunette's face slowly melted one on the Endermans' as well, Tubbos, mismatched eyes look down to the toddler in his arms.

"But you did. Yes, you did" The Enderman looks down to the allium he's holding and then back up to his boy.

"You didn't have to say my name" As Tubbo got closer, Ranboo reached over and placed the flower between Michael's ear.

"Ignite my circuits and start a flame. But you did." A smile formed on Michael's face as the two of them sat down to join the Enderman.

"Oh, Turpentine erase me whole." The memory of that day starts to go dark, as Ranboo's memory slips.

"Cause I don't want to live my life alone." Ranboo reaches a hand out to try and get Tubbo's attention, only for the Ram's blackout figure to move further away.

-

"Well, I was waiting for you all my life." Ranboo closed his outstretched hand, tears staining his face as he sat up.

"Oh." A small bzt comes from his hand as he begins to open the tightly closed fist.

"Why" A small honeybee sits in his palm, wings a little crinkled but not damaged from the pressure.

"Set me free, my... honey-bee," The bee begins to fly away. A small smile on his face as tears formed.

"Ho-ney-Bee." The bumblebee flies around the Enderman a few times before taking off for good. A sad chuckle as the Enderman gets up for the day.

-

"You didn't have to smile at me." An image of Tubbo comes into his mind when they first met, so innocent and sweet. His bee boy.

A soft smile on his face, horns barely showing past his fringe as he wore his green shirt. "Your grin's the sweetest that I've ever seen." Comparing the ram to how he looks now.

Scars trailing over his body from the firework, a detonation button for his nukes in hand. "But you did. Yes, you did." But he still had a smile on his face, he was still him, he still was his bee.

-

"You didn't have to offer your hand." He remembers following Tubbo around with a grass block on him, the ram talking his ear off about his plans to build Snowchester.

-

"Cause since I've kissed it I am at your command." A smile on their faces as they talk to Foolish about building them a mansion to live in together. "But you did."

-

"Oh, Turpentine erase me whole," The duo explained to Tommy how they fell in love after the marriage. Tom's mouth was wide open with shock but congratulated them.

-

"I don't want to live my life alone." Ranboo made it back to his house, only to find out his 'Do Not Read' book was missing, only to later find it in one of his double chests.

-

"I was waiting for you all my life." Reaching Dream's cell in Pandora's Vault he shifted awkwardly as Dream began to thank the hybrid for the help, Ranboo denied any form of help as Dream revealed his chest was full of copies of his missing book.

"Oh," Opening one of the books, he's met with the realisation the front page is blank...

"Why." Only a :) on the page.

"Set me free, my... honey-Bee." Ranboo began to freak out, as blocks around him began to collapse, and the prison floor began to crumble around him, causing him to fall to his death in the pit of lava.

-

"Ho-ney-Bee." He awakes in his obsidian 'panic room' rocking back and forward. The signs around the room provide no comfort. He cries as he tries to remember anything. His friends, his enemies, what side he was on - anything.

-

"Hello Goodbye, Twas nice to know you." Ranboo goes to find another stronghold, deciding to make a lab for him to relearn the powers he's long forgotten.

Honeybee.

"How I find myself without you" He reaches for the potion labelled 'remember test #1'. Hands shaking as he gulped it down as he sat in his lab.

-

"That I'll never know." He panics as he flips through his first memory book. Seeming frustrated with the words, he lights a fire.

Honeybee.

"I let myself go." As he slowly moves the book to the flame, the sides of the book begin to catch aflame. Only to quickly put out the flames realising to burn the book would mean to forget.

I let myself go.

-

"Hello Goodbye, I'm rather crazy." The cold breeze hit his face as he realised Nikki and Technoblade saw him. After talking to him and getting his opinion on things, they began to loosen up.

"And I never thought I was crazy." The two extended an invitation to The Syndicate with open arms. Only to have them discuss Snowchester. -

"But what do I know?" Ranboo runs into his and Tubbo's home to destroy the ladders up to Michael's room.

But what do I know?

"I let myself go." Finally exhaling as The Syndicate leaves, a chuckle of relief comes from Tubbo as he gently punches the Enderman's arm.

I let myself go.

-

"Honeybee." The chilled air flows through the window in Snowchester, Ranboo takes a second to regain his composure as a tear slides down his face because of the memories.

"Honeybee." He looks down at the rose sitting on the window sill, a small bee landed comfortably on the petals. the buzzing providing comfort.

Honeybee.

"Hello Goodbye, Twas nice to know you." He hears soft giggles behind him from his son.

"How I find myself without you." "That I'll never know." He wipes the tears off his face as he turns and smiles at the toddler. The piglin gave a warm smile to the enderman as he waved to his dad.

Honeybee.

"I let myself go." Ranboo walks over and leans down to place a kiss on Michael's forehead before moving back to the stove.

"Hello goodbye, I'm rather crazy." A sigh leaves his mouth as he's glad he's back in the present. He begins to make the rest of the pancakes.

-

"And I never thought I was crazy" He remembers finding Micheal in the nether.

But what do I know?" The smile on the Piglin's face when he saw the gold carrots in Ranboo's hand.

But what do I know?

I let myself go" Micheal laughed at Tubbo and Ranboo as they caught him a new chicken.

I let myself go.

Hello Goodbye, twas was nice to know you." Tuboo and Micheal sit patiently as Ranboo sets the timer of a camera before sprinting over to them. Smiles on all their faces.

That I'll never know.

-

"How I find myself without you." A small thump and something grabbing his leg causes the Enderman to look down.

"Hello Goodbye, I'm rather crazy." The piglin clings to his leg smiling up as Ranboo bends down to pick him up.

I let myself go.

"And I never thought I was crazy." He boops the kid's nose as he places him on the table next to where he's cooking.

Hello Goodbye, twas was nice to know you." Michael scoffs down the pancakes before taking Ranboo's hand to play with him.

But what do I know?

How I find myself without you." Ranboo smiles as he gets onto his knees to play blocks with his son, his tail flicking around.

"Hello Goodbye, I'm rather crazy." The enderman's focus on building the perfect tower stops him from hearing the door click.

"And I never thought I was crazy." Just as he finishes placing the last block, the Piglin is up and running to the door. A small brunette walks in shrugging his jacket off with a smile on his face.

Now you have to go.

#altf4work #dsmp #drabbles #emotional #dsmplore #c!tubbo #c!ranboo #c!beeduo #beeduo #ranbooxtubbo #c!michael

[thebadgerclan]

Injured

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova

Summary: When you’re injured, Aleksander drops everything to get to you...

A/N: There’s talk of a wound being healed in this, but nothing overly graphic

When Aleksander received the letter, pure terror filled his heart.  It had been delivered by a ragged looking First Army soldier, one who had clearly rode hard and fast from where he’d been sent.  General Kirigan, the letter read.  Your wife has been seriously injured.  We have no Corporalki to heal her, please send reinforcements.  He screamed for Ivan and Fedyor, and the Heartrenders were at his side at once.

“Prepare the coach and send it behind me,” Aleksander ordered as he ran to the stables.  His seconds’ protests went unheard as he saddled his stallion and kicked him into a gallop.  You’d been sent to Novokribirsk to help one of the First Army regiments rebuild a small village that had been ravaged by a fire.  You hadn’t been gone a week, and the first word Aleksander received was that you were wounded.

It was panic, fear, and rage that made him push his mount harder, that made him ignore the fatigue and hunger and discomfort that came over him.  When night fell, Aleksander pulled his hood up and pushed on, refusing to do more than slow to a canter when Midnight tired.  After two days of nonstop riding, Aleksander reached the Fold, which in hindsight, he should have considered.

There was no time to wait for a sandskiff, not when you could be dying, so Aleksander took a risk.  He wreathed himself and his horse in shadow and rode straight into the Fold.  The eerie quiet only spurred him on, and an hour later, bright sunlight hit his face.  The military encampment you were stationed at was only another mile away, and though Midnight protested, he soldiered on.

The First Army General was waiting when he arrived.  “Where is she?” Aleksander demanded.  “Where is Y/N?  Where is my wife?”  The General gestures for Aleksander to follow her, leading him into the medical tent with a grim look on her face.  Your whimpers and cries of pain reached his ears immediately, which set your husband into a run.  

He found you lying on a cot, blankets heaped atop you, your face pale and covered in sweat.  “Y/N,” Aleksander breathed, falling to his knees at your side.  You looked at him with glassy eyes, and for a moment, your husband worried you might not recognize him.  But then you spoke.  “Sasha?”  “Yes, my love.  I’m here, your Sasha’s here.  All Saints, what happened?”  A corporal who had been seated at your side cleared her throat.

“The village we were aiding was a stronghold for anti-Grisha sentiment,” she explained.  “We had Y/N in First Army clothes, but when she used her power….”  Anger flared in Aleksander’s chest, but he tamped it down.  He would deal with whoever thought it was a good idea to send you to such a village later.  “Our medics did what they could, but she needs a Healer.”  

“Ivan and Fedyor are on their way.  Please, leave us.”  The Corporal nodded, leaving you and your husband alone.  “Aleksander,” you whimpered.  “Sasha, it hurts.”  Your husband found your hand beneath your blankets and grasped it, squeezing tightly.  “I know my love, I’m sorry.   I’m sorry I can’t take the pain away.  But Ivan and Fedyor will be here soon, I promise.”  A tear slid down your cheek, and your husband bent to kiss your forehead.

Your skin was burning hot against his lips, which Aleksander knew was not a good sign.  Your breathing was labored and shallow, and Aleksander felt tears welling in his own eyes.  “Sasha?”  “I’m right here, my love,” he assured.  “I’m not going anywhere.”  “How did you get here so fast?” you asked, voice ragged and weak.  “You needed me,” he answered.  “As soon as I got word that you were hurt, I was riding out here to you.  I didn’t stop once.”

“What about the…” you trailed off, seeming to lose consciousness.  “The Fold?”  “I rode straight through.”  You hummed, your eyes shutting.  “Try to sleep, my darling.  I’m not leaving your side.”  But you were already asleep, eyes moving rapidly behind your eyelids.  True to his word, Aleksander did not once leave your side, not when the same Corporal from earlier offered him food, not when it was suggested he sleep.

It was a struggle to keep his eyes open, but Aleksander refused to sleep.  When the sound of horses hooves was heard outside the next morning, he perked up, and when Ivan and Fedyor walked in, your husband thought he might sob.  “Moi sovernnyi,” Ivan greeted, tossing his cloak aside and preparing to get to work.  “Where is the wound?”  “On her abdomen,” the Corporal answered.  Apparently she hadn’t left your side once before Aleksander’s arrival–he’d have to see about promoting her.

Fedyor pulled the blankets and your clothes back, sucking in a breath at the sight that met him.  It was a large wound and had been packed, but was in desperate need of a dressing change.  “This will be easier if we put her under,” Fedyor said.  “She won’t feel any pain.”  “Y/N, sweetheart,” Aleksander said, shaking your shoulder gently.  “Ivan is going to put you to sleep while Fedyor helps you, alright?”  You nodded, the movement barely noticeable, and Ivan dropped you into a coma.

“Sir,” Ivan said.  “Perhaps you should–”  “If you think I’m leaving her side, you’re delusional.”  His second nodded, and the Heartrenders got to work.  The packing was removed, revealing the full extent of your wound to their gaze.  “It’s infected,” Fedyor stated, your overly-heated skin making more sense.  “I have to strip away the infected tissue before I can go any further.

Aleksander nodded.  “Do what you have to do.”  Your husband didn’t watch as Fedyor worked, but kept his gaze on your face, peaceful in the sleep Ivan had you under.  For hours, his Heartrenders worked, removing infected tissue, grafting clean, healthy tissue from your arm into the wound.  Aleksander kept your hand in his, whispering words of love and reassurance to you, wondering if you could hear him.

He crooned a lullaby to you in Old Ravkan, one he’d sung many times to you when you couldn’t sleep, hoping the melody would soothe you.  Night had fallen and lanterns had been brought in so Fedyor could continue to work.  Just before dawn, the Heartrender slumped back, his face glowing from the use of his power, but utterly exhausted.  “It’s done,” Fedyor said.  “She’ll be in some pain for a while, but the wound is closed.”

Indeed, where the gaping wound had been hours before, there was now a patch of new, pink skin.  When Aleksander touched your forehead, he found that your fever had broken, and he sighed in relief.  “Thank you,” he said, rising from the seat he hadn’t vacated in nearly a day to take Fedyor and Ivan’s hands.  “Thank you for saving her.  I am in your debt.”

Fedyor had fallen asleep, but Ivan bowed his head.  “It is our honor, moi soverennyi,” he said.  “I understand you’re both exhausted, but when can we move her?  I want her home.”  “She is stable, sir, but I would give her time to rest before moving her to the coach.  Perhaps until midday.”  “If that’s what you think is best.”

So Aleksander returned to your side, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.  “My love,” he whispered.  “My Y/N, I love you.”  This time, when a hot bath and meal was offered to him, Aleksander accepted, though he hurried to be back at your side.  You had yet to awaken, which Ivan assured you was normal, and when midday arrived, your husband summoned the coach.

His Heartrenders had rearranged the interior of the coach: a makeshift bed now stretched across half of the inside, the seats folded to the walls, half of one remained out for Aleksander.  It took four people to get you inside, and once you were, your husband fussed over the blankets and pillows until he was certain you’d be comfortable.  Ivan gave you one last examination, and when he deemed you fit for travel, you were off.

The going was slow at Aleksander’s insistence, wanting the jostle you as little as possible.  When you reached the Fold, the coach was loaded onto a sandskiff, the horses left in Novokribrisk.  You remained asleep through the Fold, but when you arrived in Kribirsk, you stirred.  “Aleksander?” you asked, and while your voice was tired, you sounded more alert.  “I’m here, Y/N.”

“Where are we?”  “Kribirsk,” your husband explained.  “Ivan and Fedyor healed you, and we set off soon after.  You’ve been asleep for about a day.”  You nodded, and at your request, Aleksander helped you to sit up, piling pillows behind you.  “Sweetheart, what happened?”  “I used my power, and one of the villagers came at me with a knife.  I don’t remember much after that.”

“You’re alive, that’s all that matters.”  You nodded, and your husband kissed you, letting his lips linger against yours for several minutes.  “I love you so much, Y/N.  So, so much.”  “I love you too, Aleksander,” you replied, kissing him again.  When you arrived at the Little Palace you were ushered to the Hospital Wing, where Aleksander insisted you receive a complete examination.  Only when he was satisfied that you were healthy did you return to your rooms, where your husband doted on you for several days.

#aleksander morozova x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #the darkling x reader #general kirigan x reader #shadow and bone