#the unbreakable promise series | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fanaticsnail · 2 months

Note

i just wanted to say i really liked your garp fic and i was wondering if you were going to do a part 2?

Bonnie Lass (2/2)

Masterlist Here, Part 1 Here.

Word Count: 7,925

Synopsis: You finally meet with the handsome older gentleman at the other end of the den-den-mushi. He promises a night you will both not forget in a hurry - will it live up to that expectation?

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+ You have been warned, smut, p in v sex, oral afab!receiving, bonnie lass - wee bonnie - lass - bonnie gendered terms used, afab! reader, "The Garpening", flirting, supportive boss Mihawk, den-den-mushi calls, both are shameless, age gap, unprotected, creampie.

Notes: This fic was brought to you by a bottle of wine, long chats with @carrotsunshine, @since-im-already-here, @sordidmusings, and @feral-artistry, my incessant need to write for older men, and an overbearing need to know exactly where Garp's appetite leads him.

Apprehensive and Apologetic Tag list: @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @cinnbar-bun @i-love-myself-xd @the-reas0n-is-y0u

The seabreeze whipped through your hair, the gullsong serenading you as Mihawk’s vessel made to dock at the Marine port. You squint your eyes up, staring at the bleached stone walls of the large building that held the promise of good food and pleasurable company. Hanging on the words Vice-Admiral Garp last spoke to you, your body immediately felt compelled to wander forward to exit the ship and gleefully skip towards the mighty doors.

But you knew better.

The presence of your boss, Dracule Mihawk, fell beside you: his bicep brushing with the pointed tip of your shoulders as he physically began rumbling a low growl. He despised attending meetings held by the World Government, meaning he would likely require additional resources to get him through the week you were to remain docked at harbor.

“My lord,” you addressed him, turning your body with a curt nod to him. He hummed in response, unbreaking his eyes away from the headquarters of the world government. With a small exhale of breath, you regained your composure and began relaying his itinerary for the day to him.

“An hour after we dock, your presence is required to partake in a meeting of the warlords of the sea,” you began, elevating your clipboard and scanning the paper pages for the next item on his agenda, “Afterwards, you have a brunch with Boa Hancock and Jinbei - to what end, I was made unaware. After that, you’ll be given your assignment to rid the outer ring of the ‘unruly plague of piracy’ the World Government deems important enough for your skill - likely to be completed over four days of battle, given the numbers,” Your brows furrowed, searching the pages for further information, “Then you are to meet with your tailor, just before your new headshots are to be confirmed by den-den-mushi.”

Mihawk clenched his fists, gritting his teeth as the marines roped his ship into port. The more you spoke, the more agitated he became. Not agitated at you, never agitated with you - he despised these meetings, and hoped that bringing you along would ensure a safe and swift encounter. He always struggled with managing his agendas and itineraries with these encounters, almost electing to bring you along simply for moral support if nothing else.

“And then?” Mihawk spat through his clenched jaw, fists balling at his sides.

“And then,” you confirmed, placing your clipboard under your arm and smiling up at your boss, “You have been booked into an onsen for a private spa, a massage and hot stone session in the hamam, and,” you stepped further towards Mihawk, adjusting his overcoat and soothing over his shoulders to rid the material of fray, “After that, I have sent a bottle of Rosso, and asked for for the next book in that romance series you have been indulging in to be awaiting you in your personal suite.”

Mihawk exhaled a sigh of relief, clapping a hand over your shoulder in a gesture of appreciation. You smiled up at your boss, nodding at him to affirm your notion of providing his relief. You turned away, bringing your attention back up to the top of the building, and focussed your pointed gaze at the silhouette glaring over the balcony of the highest point.

“And while I am distracted by a good book and a bottle of wine,” Mihawk’s taunting purr cracked into your ear, “Where will you be, my dear?” You drew a sheepish grin up to your lips, a faint flush igniting your cheeks

Mihawk leant down into your ear, his breath tingling and hot against your flesh as he uttered his warning into your ear.

“Wined and dined by an old man?” he taunted down, his smirk visibly present in his tone, “Keeping me at bay while you enjoy a few stiff drinks, before being railed by something else stiff-.”

“Lord Dracule Mihawk!” you scolded him, turning to join your ignited gaze against his playful, honey-colored orbs, “I am first and foremost your assistant.” Mihawk’s lips twitched at the corners, indicating his amusement as close to a smile as he would ever publicly display. You huffed out your breath, shaking your head while adding, “I have never met him in person, and he is yet to extend a formal invitation to join him for dinner. I will be busy all day tending to your affairs, as I always am, Sir.” His amusement never lessened, only growing on his lips with another twitch.

“And after the day of your duties?” Mihawk’s brow twitched in interest, “What then?”

“What then,” you shoved your index finger into his chest, scraping it up to tap the tip of his nose, “Is that I will be tucked safely within my bedsheets after a long bath and a hot meal. I am here to serve you, sir. I am your assistant, and I am a damn good one.”

“That you are, dear,” he confirmed, placing his other hand on your shoulder, holding you in place, “Which is why, after today, I have given you three days paid shore leave.” Your stunned silence only propelled him on further to add, “Buy yourself a new pretty dress, and enjoy the sights,” he leant forward with a small wink, his darkened lashes kissing against the waterline to hide his brilliant amber eyes briefly, “And then, get the old man to roar your name in the thralls of joint ecstacy. By my orders, dear. You have earnt it.”

The warm rise of warmth held against the apples of your cheeks all day, constantly repeating Mihawk’s comments in a circular swirl within your mind. From the moment your temporary office was welcomed by a pink-haired cadet, to filling in a variety of paperwork, to taking various den-den-mushi calls, to clocking out for the day - the flushed heat held firm against your cheeks.

No whisper of a word, nor scroll of a calligraphed note, graced your temporary office with its presence. You honestly thought you had been forgotten, neglected in the knowledge that you had journeyed long beside Dracule Mihawk to be within close proximity to the man who held your undivided attention every day for the past year.

Just as you were packing away your desk for the day, the den-den-mushi began to roar to life on your wooden countertop. The reverberation of its guttural grunts and gurgles had you satiating its tone by answering the call.

“Lord Dracule Mihawk’s den-den-mushi. State your intentions, and make it quick-,” you growled, your professional tone wavering in agitation due to the proximity of your shift ending.

“-Oh, sweet bonnie lass. I dinnae mean t’keep ‘ye waitin’,” the soothing drawl of Vice-Admiral Garp purred through the transponder. You huffed out an exasperated breath, your brows furrowing further against your forehead as you navigated through your swelling mind.

“Vice-Admiral,” your warning tone cut through the air, halting all further conversation with a concluding utterance of, “My office hours have concluded for the day. Should you desire to reach Dracule Mihawk for any need, you may try again at-.” Your words were stolen from you by Garp’s tone cutting through them like a knife through hot butter.

“-Please, lass,” his plea cracked through the den-den-mushi, holding you hostage to his words, “Please dannae brush me aside. I have been in meetin’s all day, and I have been trying to claw my way to you from the wee hours of the morn, to the quiet moments of the noon.” You rotated your neck, relieving tension found within the tight bands of your muscles.

“Vice-Admiral,” you began, interrupted once again by his rumbling brogue growling through the mouthpiece of the den-den-mushi, “I have had a long journey at sea. My only welcome being more work at the bequest of my employer. I do not have time to entertain you over the transponder today. If you desire to speak further, you can try again tomorrow, Vice-Admiral-.”

“-Garp, lass. It’s Garp, please,” his breathy voice gasped through the speaker, “I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I should’ve been down by the docks waiting - up to my knees in sea water to reign your ship in with my bare hands.” You hummed at the thought: a high and mighty Vice-Admiral of the marines lowering himself to the duties of a simple cadet at the chance of meeting his eyes with your own in person.

You took a moment's pause, contemplating his words and mulling the thought of him demonstrating his strength and stamina to you while shepherding Mihawk’s ship into port. Did he have old navy tattoos on his biceps? Did his advanced age hinder his ability to perform such a task? Gathering he was the one who suggested such a notion, and him being a man of high honor, you gathered he would be up to such a muscle burning task.

“Alright, Garp,” you hummed into the transponder, leaning back into the transponder and purring through your vocal challenge, “Make it up to me.”

A shuddered groan sparked through the mouthpiece, your own giddy joy elevating in your chest and igniting your body with soft tingles. If he had this much sway over you with just a small growl of his voice, you were unsure of where the next few moments were to bring you.

“Meet me at the docks in two hours, Bonnie Lass,” his tone was hushed enough to draw you in closer, your ears pricking to catch every syllable granted to you, “And I’ll treat you to a night you willnae forget in a hurry.” Your broad grin split your face, a small squeak of joy threatening to escape your lips with a soft hum.

“And how should you like me, Garp?” you asked him, your taunting purr calling further into the receiver end, “Should I prepare my wardrobe for an outdoor activity,” you questioned, your foot tapping lightly within the air while hooking over your knee, “Or should I just throw a coat over some lingerie and call it a night?”

Several cracking objects bent and broke, echoing throughout the den-den-mushi transponder; something akin to wood snapping and nails tearing through mahogany. You rewarded such a sound with a melodic giggle, only producing more creaking wood noises in consequence.

“Wear something dainty for me,” a low rumbled growl purred at you, “What you choose to wear under it is your prerogative.”

“Aye, Sir,” you confirmed with a curt nod, “Two hours, and I’ll be all yours.”

“All mine,” his low drawl parroted back to you, the giddy chirp of his voice endearing in your ears. At the click of the receiver, you sprung immediately into action and hurried out of the office doors.

You bid a cheery farewell to the cadets loitering in the hallway, thanking them for arranging your office, before leaving the washed-stone building of the World Government headquarters. Your smile never left your lips, the promise of meeting the man who held your romantic affections weighing heavily on your mind and fluttering harshly within the pit of your stomach.

While bathing, cleansing your skin and hair, and ensuring every part of you was styled and scented with the sweet and sultry persona you had presented yourself to be, your thoughts turned to pondering unspoken questions. Will he enjoy the way you present yourself? Will he behave like the perfect gentleman? How should you act: the way you shamelessly speak over the den-den-mushi, or poised like a lady? Would he like this particular color on you, or on the floor beside you?

You shook your head to rid them of the spiraling doubts, soothing over your tight dress and hooking your coat over your forearm while exiting the suite you had organized for yourself. Clicking and locking your door behind you, your eyes briefly met with Mihawks: a book tucked under his arm and wine bottle within his grasp, twirling the cork with his screw and filling his wine glass in the window. He shot you a knowing look, mouthing the words: “make him roar.”

Your cheeks flooded with the heat of scorched oil, flash point igniting in your eyes at the final utterance of support from your boss. Shaking your head, you made your way briskly to the docks. The dimly lit lamplight illuminated your path, the click of your heels tapping lightly on the solid sandstone pathway. The flap of gulls wings shepherded your final steps atop the docks, your eyes meeting with a truly unique sight you were not expecting in the least.

In the middle of the pier stood a highly decorated marine, silver hair backlit by the radiance of the moon and standing with his wrists clenched behind his back. His beard was neatly cropped, his eyes fixed on your approach, his lips exhaling a shaky breath he prayed you didn’t notice. As your feet carried your body closer, you halted a few feet away from him, tilting your chin and pursing your lips playfully up at him.

“Vice-Admiral,” you purred up at him seductively, your eyes wide and innocent to contradict your expression.

“Bonnie-Lass,” he gruffly commented in response, a smile painted brilliantly on his lips. A delightful shudder flew up your spine at his undistorted voice finally meeting with you. You flit your eyes hastily over him, examining his stature inquisitively - a gesture he returned with gusto, eyes hovering over your meticulously cared and styled hair and outfit.

“May I invite ‘ye aboard, lass?” Garp’s softness in his tone pulled you in, his arms waving behind him to gesture towards his impressive ship, “I ‘kin understand if being on a ship again after so much time on the water might no’ agree with ‘ye-.”

“-I would love to see your ship, Captain,” you remarked gleefully, stepping past his arms and following his gesture to the broadwalk, “I adore sea travel, and enjoy the rocking of the waves. I find it comforting.”

As you stepped past, your intoxicating radiance graced Garp with the aroma of your sweet perfume. The way your presence called him immediately to follow you, his feet falling in tow with your every step, was not something he ever accounted for.

The moment your voice picked up the receiver of the den-den-mushi, Garp’s sour mood was immediately stifled under your comforting tone. The first time he called Castle Kuraigana to relay orders to the broody warlord of the sea, he was ill-prepared to be met with a tone so honey-sweet and kind. He was immediately smitten, often calling the castle with any excuse he could muster to hear more of your sweetness pouring onto him through the speaker of his den-den-mushi.

But now you were here in person, Garp truly had no idea how to handle you. He did not know if you would allow him the luxury of holding you against himself in a warm and welcoming embrace. He did not desire to lean down and claim your lips with a kiss, only to be met with a turn of your cheek and an utterance of, “You’re too old for me,” falling from your lips. He truly did not know what to expect from you, and the unspoken anxiety was eating at his stomach and clouding his mind.

“Garp?” you called over to him, halting your advance onto his ship and turning to face him, “Are you going to guide me along your vessel, or am I to find my own way without you?” Garp snapped his eyes to meet with yours, his winding thoughts pausing as he bore his intense gaze into you.

“Although I do enjoy exploring new areas, I would prefer to be ushered in with the pleasure of your company,” you continued, a coy smile springing to your features, “After all the promises you made to me of the many months we’d been speaking,” you took a step back, falling closer to his larger body, “I would prefer you to keep your word.”

“And which word might that be, lass?” his gruff whisper crooned down at you, his eyes half-lidded and lips parted in desperation, “I had promised ‘ye an array of mischief, if ‘me old mind serves correct.”

“Considering I’ll be on, I’m assuming, this ship for the next few days while Mihawk completes his assignment,” you contemplated, darting your focus between his two eyes, “Would you show me to my quarters so I may send for my belongings to arrive on the morrow?”

“All work an’ no play, lass?'' he huffed a small laugh down at you, “An’ here I thought you’d want something more playful the first time we met in person, or perhaps something a little more-...” His thoughts trailed off, his tone almost disappointed at your formal conversation. He took it as his first rejection from you, opting to not push his expectation and desires onto you should it make you uncomfortable.

You exhaled through your nose, your smile not leaving your lips as you shook your head at him. As Garp allowed his spiraling thoughts to plague his mind, fully trapped within his misguided notion you had rejected his flirtatious advances, he didn’t feel the grip of your fingers around his teal tie until his body was thrust forward by the strength of your forearm.

Drawing all of the power you could muster, alongside the courage you felt you needed to complete such a feat, you claimed the lips of the decorated Vice-Admiral of the marines beneath your own. You set a bruising pace, turning your head and standing yourself up on the tips of your toes to reach more of him. Your other hand found his broad chest, dropping your coat to the floor while fisting the material of his outer coat beneath your palm and cradling him closer to yourself.

Stepping backwards onto the ship, you ushered his hulking body aboard while unbreaking from the passionate embrace. As your knees knocked with a hard benchtop behind you, you ushered the larger man to turn, forcing his body down to sit himself down on the bench. You opened your mouth, your tongue raking against his bottom lip.

A groan fled from his lips, Garp’s needy hands grasping at your flesh over the material of your dress. Fistfulls of the material was claimed within Garp’s hands, the hemline of the material being shimmied up your thighs to grant more of your flesh to be exposed to him. He opened his mouth, allowing you to seek out his tongue to brush against your own with expert and practiced precision.

As the material continued to ride up your body, you hooked your knees either side of his broad thighs and straddled his waist. The split side of your dress strained beneath the grasps of Garp’s hands, stretching the material harshly before your ears pricked at the harsh ‘rip’. You squeaked in Garps mouth, drawing your lips away from his with a frown.

“You tore my dress!” you exclaimed, your accusatory reprimand mixing with a hidden smile beneath your frown, “It was my favorite!” Garp paid your chastising tone no mind, peppering your neck with several, open-mouthed kisses.

“I’ll buy ‘ye twelve more,” he gasped, nipping and sucking at the exposed flesh of your neck, “All the colors you desire,” he raked his teeth against your jaw, “All the patterns in the world.” You keened a small moan into the air when he found a sensitive piece of flesh between your throat and your pulse.

His hand dipped between the material of your dress, raking his fingertips over your thigh to hold your hip only to pause while held in complete shock.

“You’re ‘nae wearing anythin’ beneath this dress, bonnie lass,” he growled against your jaw, his teeth catching on the bone and clamping over your soft skin.

“You said it was my prerogative,” you gasped, turning your head to seek out his lips with your own, “Why do you think I wanted you to show me to my quarters, Sir?” You pressed a long and heavy kiss against his lips before tearing yourself away once more. “But it seemed as if you couldn't handle the uncertainty for a moment longer,” you kissed his whiskered cheek, “So I am improvising.”

Garp immediately responded by raking his broad hands beneath your bare ass, barely covered by the material of your dress, hoisting you into the air and marching you throughout the corridors with heavy and intentional steps. You giggled at him, weaving your hands over his shoulders and massaging his scalp with your fingertips, and nuzzling down into his neck. You inhaled deeply, committing his cologne to memory while nipping and sucking on his exposed flesh close to his collar.

“It’s against protocol to leave visible marks above my uniform,” Garp growled, leaning his head back and exposing more of his skin to you, “If you litter my skin with any bites, I’ll see to ‘ye punishment personally.” In response to your rough, peppered kisses along his neck and bearded jaw, Garp slapped his hand on your right ass cheek before kneading it within his fingers and palm.

“I am no marine, Garp,” you confessed, wrapping your lips around his pulse and sucking at the skin with fervor, “And I’d like to see you try.”

“Y’ell do as ‘yer bloody told, lass,” he growled, leaning away from your lips. As his eyes met with yours, he squeezed the flesh of your ass with a warning pinch. You squeaked in delight, Garp’s hearty laughter pleasantly echoing within your ears.

“I’ll do as I bloody please, Garp,” you taunted in return, biting a crescent shaped mark against his pulse, soothing over the mark with your lips and tongue. You sucked at the mark, hearing a hitch in his breath as he continued to lead you towards the guest suites.

Tearing your lips away, you hummed at the heart-shaped mark you pressed into his skin. It was a medal of lust, visible to all who see it - and see it, they will. Garp’s pulse was elevated further, his passionate advances leading him on with heavy and intentional steps. His boot heel kicked in the door to cabin quarters, your anticipation only growing as Garp lowered you onto the freshly made bed.

Your back hit the plush mattress, your hair sprawling out on the sheets as he lowered his head against your neck. He pressed a few intentional kisses against your exposed flesh, his hands desperately raking over your chest to knead your breasts slowly and sensually. You sucked in a soft groan, your brows furrowing up as his thumb and index finger rolled over your puckered nipples. At your small gasp, he took it as encouragement to continue stimulating your breasts with his left hand, as his right rose the hemline of your dress over your hip.

Hastily, you shot your hands forward, fumbling over the buckle of his belt to rid it of its hold on his pants. Just as quickly, Vice-Admiral Garp surged forward: claiming both of your wrists within his circular grip to halt your advance. You furrowed your brows as he pinned your wrists beside your head, your wide eyes meeting with his mischievous grin.

“What are you-,” you began, silenced by a heavy and open-mouthed kiss pressed against your lips, claiming you beneath him with rough bites and soothing caresses. He groaned against your lips, leading your hands with his to wrap around his shoulders and weave into his hair once more within your fingertips.

“Let me taste ‘ye first, bonnie,” he growled against your sensitive skin, You gasped a sigh of affirmation, nodding against his smiling lips, “Let me make it up to ‘ye for ‘me surliness earlier. Please let me have ‘ye like this.”

Trailing open mouthed kisses down your neck, halting briefly at your breasts before trailing down your stomach; Vice-Admiral Monkey D. Garp made his intentions incredibly clear to you as he shimmied the line of your dress higher over your body.

“Let me show ‘ye how much I’ve been craving the sweet call of my name from those pretty lips o’ yours,” Hooking your knees over his shoulders, he scraped his bearded chin over the sensitive inner flesh of your thighs before grazing his lips over the top of your core, “I’ll have ‘ye cryin’ and whimperin’ for me before ‘ye even see my cock.”

He tested your sensitive flesh: flicking the tip of his tongue out to brush against your swollen clit. Immediately, your back arched up and a soft cry flew from your lips before you could stop it. Garp chuckled, looking as your pulsating core was welcoming more of his touches, giving away your arousal with a pool of your sweet essence pouring from your contracting entrance.

“You are so beautiful, bonnie lass,” he pressed a sweet kiss against the top of your groin, his smile felt against your flesh, “And ‘ye finally all mine.” After allowing another chuckle to fall from his lips, he advanced forwards and skillfully licked a clean and expert stripe along your glistening walls.

Vice-Admiral Garp was known for many things: His brutality in war, his aggression while training cadets, his calculated advances on the battlefield, his impossible strength, and his insatiable appetite. This appetite was now displayed to you as he hungrily and desperately lapped at your core like a man on death row, consuming his last meal while awaiting execution. The balance between savoring the flavor while horking down like a man starving had your eyes rolling back and hands fisting at his cropped hair to hold on tightly.

“O-Oh fuck,” you cried, your eyes now tightly clamped shut as you relished in his skilled ministrations. The roll of his tongue, the mouthing of his hungry lips, had you physically quaking against his face.

“Shakin’ like a leaf, lass,” he taunted, nuzzling into your aching core, “‘ye want ‘te see what else I ‘kin do?” Your toes curled as he prodded your entrance with his tongue, his nose circling your clit and spreading your arousal throughout your core. Skillfully thrusting his tongue in and out of your desperate and delicate slit, you felt as if you were going to explode in ecstasy the moment he began vibrating his tongue with a deep, rumbling groan.

“G-Garp. I-I don’t know if I-I can-... hnnng-... I c-can’t last m-....mmmn-... m-much longer,” you cried, your thighs clenching on his neck and shoulders to hold him in place. Your body reacted against your will, arching your back off the mattress while desperately riding his face. You felt the band winding tighter in your abdomen, each area of your body desperately shooting sparks, teetering on the edge of unravel.

Two firm hands clapped over your thighs: one holding down your stomach and pinning you against the bed, the other kneading over your thigh. Garp pulled his face away from your needy cunt, hovering his hot breath and breathing puffs of cool air over your hole. You whimpered in desperation, wriggling against his wide-spread fingers to get any stimulus to conclude your high.

“W-Why-,” you cried, a slap on your bare ass halting your words and having you throw your head against the pillow.

“-Because I warned ‘ye nae t’ leave a mark on ‘me body. It’s against protocol, lass,” he chuckled, his whiskered chin scraping over your thigh as his smiling lips pressed a kiss against the outer corner of your crotch. You growled, leaning up on your elbows, staring into his eyes with a dark agitation.

“And after all those promises of making it up to me?” you spat, your nose scrunching, lips pursing and brow furrowing. Garp rose from his low position against your exposed flesh, a foreign desperation depicted in his wide eyes.

“Were they all empty words?” you uttered. You knew, for a fact, that Vice-Admiral Garp was mad for you, but that only made you want to taunt him more, “All an act to get me to open my legs, just to leave me disappointed like the rest of them?” A stuttered gasp flew from his lips as he crawled up the bed, weaving his clothed torso through your legs to meet at eye level once again. In turn, you shimmied your body away from him, turning your face away in an attempt to hide your smile.

You knew how desperately he wanted you. The moment your lips collided with his above deck, you felt just how much he absolutely adored you. Considering he held you on the edge of ecstasy, only to pull away from you as you were about to unravel , you decided it would be more entertaining to watch him grovel for you.

“Perhaps you were only interested in leaving a sour taste, teasing me with your pretty brogue and taunting me with your dream-like promises,” you continued, lips pouting and brows triangulating up in the center of your forehead. Garp staggered in his movement, his hands reaching out in an attempt to grasp yours, only met with you pulling away.

“L-Lass, I didnae mean t-,” he began, halted by your melancholy sigh in an attempt to stifle a rising giggle in your chest.

“-You said I’d beg and plead for your hands and lips to be in a few key places, if I recall correctly,” you pouted, playing into your role, “How disappointing, only having me beg and writhe beneath you to pull away at the crescendo.”

“P-Please, lass. I’m sorry. I am a cruel, cruel man,” he confessed, claiming your left hand within his right and peppering the flesh with a flurry of kisses, “What can I do t’make it up to ‘ye, ‘me bonnie lass. Tell me,” he trailed his kisses up higher, halting at the inner flesh of your elbow, “Order me, dictate me,” he continued spreading kisses up to your shoulder, soothing over your scorching flesh, “I beg ‘ye to reconsider your withdrawal. I am ‘ye humble servant, wee bonnie.”

Your smile broke through your pouting expression, your head snapping over to meet with his. His eyes were wide and frantic, desperate to know he had not lost you by enacting his cruel punishment.

“Off the bed,” you ordered him, a twinkle of mischief sparking to light in your surly expression, “And strip yourself, slowly.”

“Aye, bonnie lass,” he stumbled over his words, immediately staggering backwards and falling to the side of the bed. He began unbuttoning his overcoat and shaking it from his shoulders hurriedly, prompting a giggle to break through your practiced character.

“I said slowly, Garp,” you purred at him, sitting up and moving your left calf along your right, “I thought you would be good at following orders, considering your title as a marine.” He halted his hasty undress, opting to silently follow your orders by unhooking the clasps of his belt and unbuttoning his pants. As the hem lay limply on his hips, he slowly popped each button of his shirt and raked his index finger along his torso to separate the fabric.

Shamelessly following each movement with a bite of your bottom lip, you reclined on your side and encouraged him to continue with your sultry and beckoning eyes. His heart fluttered, feeling so small beneath your predatory gaze. After speaking with you for so long over den-den-mushi, and desperately seeking your approval with his choice words, he was certain he knew what to expect when he met with you.

He had never been so pleased to be proven wrong in his life.

As he released the final button of his shirt, you clicked your tongue at him and pointed your index finger at the teal sash decorating his neck.

“The tie stays on,” you spoke through narrowed eyes, testing his resolve to follow your orders. He huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head as he peeled his shirt away from his skin - leaving the teal tie around his neck. He shimmied off the fabric before hooking his thumbs through his belt hoops, slowly pulling the material over his hips and down his muscular thighs.

Hungrily and awestruck, you followed each taut flex of his impressive muscles: his forearms, his biceps, his shoulders, his pectorals, his abs, his thighs - nothing was hidden from your eyes as he continued to slowly undress himself before you. His head-shot from the World Government truly did not do him justice - a man dignified and refined, muscular and carved from slated marble. He was a sight to behold, and was anxious to receive your approval at each passing moment.

Stepping away from his pants, Vice-Admiral Garp was standing before you in naught but his teal tie and tight undershorts. The growing pole to tent the center of his trousers had your mouth watering beneath your stoic and sultry expression: keeping your hand close to your chest to not reveal your desperation for him.

“Does this please you, lass?” he whispered below his breath, the corner of his mouth ticking with his melancholy expression, “An old man far from his prime, humbling himself before the delicate flower of Kuraigana. Is this all ‘ye dreamed of?” His small sigh caught your ear, prompting your brows to furrow in deep thought. His eyes were focussed on the floor, unable and unwilling to tear them away to meet with your exploratory eyes.

Vice-Admiral Garp was self conscious. He found himself unworthy to be at the receiving end of your interest, a fact that had become clearer and clearer the more the night flew on.

“Take off your undershorts, Garp,” you ordered him, slowly rising to your knees on the mattress, “And lie back on the bed.” You witnessed as his cock twitched beneath his pants, a growl purring in the chasms of his chest as he hooked his thumbs around the hemline of his undergarments.

Slowly shimmying down the elastic, his impressive cock sprang above the surface, slapping his abdomen with his shining mushroom tip on his belly. The slit was dripping with precum, the veins throbbing with anticipation while he bashfully lay his back down on the mattress. His cock stood to attention, knob throbbing while his shaft was hoisted in the air. He was neatly cropped, every follicle of his happy trail meticulously maintained down his stomach.

Without much warning, you eagerly straddled his waist with a giggle of joy. A gasp of shock fled from his lips, followed by a huff of laughter as you eagerly threw your dress off your body and looked down at his reclined form. There was a hidden uncertainty within his eyes, a hopeful sheen sucking you within his orbs each moment you gazed into them.

“Now what, lass?” he questioned you, eyes searching yours as he reached up his palm to cradle your cheek, “You’ve got me pinned and helpless beneath your thighs. Does this please you? D-Do I-...” his voice trailed off, remaining uncertain as his eyes sought out deeper, unspoken desires within your own, “...-Do I please you?”

You sighed, flipping your hair over your shoulder and looking down at him through half-hooded eyelashes. Your soft smile drew up over your features, a secret and hidden kiss’ shadow rising within the right-hand corner of your mouth - a place that immediately held Garp rendered defeated under your beautiful features.

What began as mild lust had blossomed and flourished into something more sacred. Garp was indeed smitten with you, desperately wanting to both treat and tease you, but now that he had you - he was clawing at being a worthy partner for you to couple with. He knew you were beautiful, he knew you were intelligent, he knew you were wise - but he did not expect, upon meeting you in person, to be rendered helpless upon seeking your approval.

Wordlessly, you sought out the tip of his glistening cock with your needy hole, slowly circling the knob without welcoming him fully into your walls. He gasped at the contact, surging forward to grasp at your thighs over his waist. Your arousal coated his tip, painting it with your own lust and propelling his sinful desires on further.

“You’ll please me by letting me ride your thick cock until you can’t take it anymore,” you purred down at him, angling your lips to almost brush against his own, “You’ll please me by splitting me open and filling me up with every inch you’re willing to give me. You’ll please me-...” you leaned your torso down, your breasts brushing with his pectorals, nipples circling his own in a sultry dance as you hovered over his cock, “...-By allowing me the luxury of cumming on your cock, my pussy milking you of your thick load and splashing back onto your cock once it meets with my cervix.”

Garp held his breath, furrowing his brows as he felt you inch down to claim his shined knob within your entrance. He focussed on the hitch of your breath, the swell of your heart rate, and the small whimper in your voice. He focussed on the twitch of your closed eyes and your parted lips as you sank further along his shaft.

Although his appetite was insatiable, he would never rush you in adjusting to his girth and length. He relished in every stretch your walls made to accommodate his impressive size, focussing on how your brows knit together and breath hitched at every small move. He tried to hold back the twitch of his desperate cock, trying not to lose himself within the feeling of your cunt fluttering to adjust for his cock to fully sheathe itself within you.

As the hilt of your crotch met with his, his cock disappearing within your fluttering cunt up to the brim, he finally allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief at being sheathed completely within you. Grinding yourself down, you suppress a strangled moan within your throat as you feel your walls adjust and accommodate to his impressive size. Testing a small movement, you inched yourself upwards and slunk down against his shaft - a sigh mirrored within Garp’s lips as he restrained himself from fucking up into you.

You began to slowly rake your walls up, before slamming your body back down against his groin: mutual cries of bliss falling from each other's lips as you focussed on riding his cock. You hastily drew up speed, setting a rhythm that had his hips rolling beneath your own. Your mewling cries of his name were rising into the air each time you felt his knob touch the edge of your cervix.

His hands gripped firmly against your thighs, ushering you to bob, grind and gyrate against his cock to chase your own ecstasy. Your clit brushed with the small tuft of hair remaining at the base of his shaft, stimulating the small bud each time you drew yourself down to his crotch.

He stared up in disbelief at the way your body responded to him. He was mesmerized at each whimper of your voice, each flutter of your eyelashes, and each slam of your aching cunt welcoming his throbbing cock within his walls. He couldn’t get enough: you were intoxicating and addictive with each writhe against him.

Your rhythm began to get more stuttered, your body responding to the elevation of your ecstasy. Your walls began to thump against him, wringing his cock and clamping down on it as your approaching orgasm began to shudder against his shaft. His breath hitched, his own brow furrowing as he felt every pulse within your walls ushering him into his own bliss.

As you continued to grind against him, Garp struggled to hold back against his own desires of flipping you over and stapling his hips against your own by railing your body into the plush mattress below. He did not want to destroy his good standing with you by completing such a lewd act, reacting in penance from drawing himself away from cumming into his awaiting lips, and simply chose to take each moment you gave him as a gift.

The flutter of your cunt began squeezing his shaft, the sensitive spongy underside of your clit meeting with his knob propelling you further in the release of your incoming ecstasy. Your whimpers and cries of his name falling freely from your lips had both Garp’s cock and heart swell in pride that his body was granting you such bliss.

“G-Garp, I-I’m gonna-...” you called, clenching your eyes shut as you continued to gyrate and grind down against his cock.

Garp’s iron will snapped, immediately hooking his arms around your waist and tackling you against the bedsheets. He caged you beneath him, plowing greedily into your shuddering walls with an eager snap of his hips. You shrieked in shock, your ecstasy being ushered in further by Garp stampeding you both towards your ends with a heavier and more controlled rhythm.

Each heavy rake of his cock within your cunt had his balls slapping against your puckered ass. At this new angle, you cried out, desperately clawing at his back and shoulders to draw him in closer to you.

He hoisted your knee over his hip, latching his lips onto your neck and sucking a deep, angry, mark into your porcelain flesh. You cried for him, every ounce of your flesh ignited by the sparks of untamed ecstasy as you thrust your hips upwards to meet with every sharp snap of his rhythmic hips.

“Cum for me,” he purred at you in a gruff growl, “Cry out my name.” His rhythm began to weigh heavier with each deep thrust, heavier and heavier with every staggered slam of his hips. “I want the entire base t’ know I’m makin’ ‘ye feel good. Want ‘ye fookin’ boss t’ know you’re becoming unraveled by my thick cock, ‘me bonnie lass.”

At the mention of your boss: Mihawk’s verbal warning of having Garp cry your name in bliss echoed back to you. In a final ditch effort of having Garp cry out for you, you latched your lips onto the mark you created a few hours prior and teased the flesh with your teeth and tongue. Garp knit his brows, growling through yelping barks below his breath at how truly good you made him feel.

“O-Ohh f-fuck, Garp. I-I’m-... ahh-... I’m c-cumming,,” you called, clawing and gnawing at his flesh like a lifeline anchoring you to the earth. He sucked in a breath feeling the twitch of his end spurting the first few moments of his orgasm within your walls. As much as he desired to pull away from your eager cunt to not risk his seed finding purchase within your walls - he simply could not help himself. He immediately began plowing harsher into you, his cock spurting his cum within you like a valve turning to release hisses of pent-up pressure.

His voice became elevated with each staggered thrust, each subtle whimpered cry of his name coinciding with you grinding and writhing beneath him to chase your mutual highs. At one final bite of his flesh, and a particularly harsh snap of his hips, the two of you began experiencing the first realms of joint ecstasy.

“F-Fuck bonnie lass, I cannae pull out,” he roared your name, gyrating and pumping his seed deep within your cunt: splashing back spurts of his load within your needy, throbbing cunt.

“D-Don’t you dare t-try,” you scolded him, eyes rolling back in bliss as he chased his orgasm within you. The walls of your pussy began contracting against his thick cock, shepherding him into releasing hot ropes of sticky cum within your eager walls. For every thump of your walls, you were granted by a spurt of his release within them - milking him of every fiber of his essence.

As you both rode through your highs, the hums of your voices and gasps of your breath caught up with you. He snapped his hips forward, remaining sheathed within your glistening walls, as he raked his fingers through your hair. Your strands stuck against your forehead, your pupils blown with lust as you gulped back another cry of ecstasy as his cock throbbed within you. You sobbed, hiding your forehead against his chest as you attempted to come down from your high.

Taking a moment to each gulp in oxygen to fill your lungs, Garp rolled from caging you beneath him, unsheathing his cock from within your pussy slowly. He looked down at your entrance, watching as it clenched to chase his retreat from your body with an eagerness he was yet to witness in some time. You were a masterpiece, a body unraveled and glistening within the realms of the afterglow in unbridled lust. He adored you.

“You alrigh’, lass?” he asked you quietly, his lips grazing your temple as your lungs refilled with oxygen. You smiled up at him, eyes closing while your body chased his lips to feel his wired whiskers against your skin longer. You hummed at him, rolling over to your side and grazing his chest with your open hands.

“Never better, Garp,” you cooed back at him, feeling your energy supply depleting the longer you remained comfortably within his arms. He cradled you against himself, feeling the soft song of slumber calling to him each moment you remained nestled against him.

“And what of t’morrow?” Garp asked, his brow cocking up at the corner while he fought to keep his eyes open, “‘Ye got duties to attend, I’m sure.”

“Dracule Mihawk has allowed me the luxury of a few days' shore leave,” you confessed, sleepily, “I don’t think I’ll be returning to my station any time soon, Vice-Admiral-.”

“-Garp, bonnie lass. It’s Garp, remember?” he cooed down at you, shimmying his body down to locate the plush duvet and nestling you both beneath it, “When you’re with me, it’s always Garp.”

“Alright, Garp,” you purred up at him, eyes hooded and feeling serenaded by sleep, “Will you stay by me tonight? Show me you still want me in the morning?” He huffed out a breath of disbelief, cradling you further against his chest and pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead.

“Rest assured, Bonnie Lass,” the rumbling drawl of his voice cooed down at you, his fingers brushing over your hair and smoothing over each strand, “I will still want you every morning.”

Both of your warm smiles clung to your cheeks as you fell into the arms of sleep, feeling calm and at peace while clinging to one another. You had never been so pleased to be relieved of duty, your legs and body remaining blissfully numb by being plowed into by Garp’s throbbing cock.

An apology for his rough actions came in the form of caging your hips against his face, his arms weaving over your thighs, and him welcoming you to ride his head until your voice grew hoarse from the sheer number of times he had you cry his name on his eager tongue. Enthusiastically lapping at your glistening cunt with the fervor of a man being granted the feast of a lifetime, he refused to part his lips from your glistening walls until you violently shook with a scream of his name.

When riding down your high and sobbing through your ecstasy, you looked down at his eager eyes: twinkling with mischief. Upon meeting his gaze, he kissed your thigh and cooed up at you: “Just one more? One last time before I let you go, ‘me wee bonnie lass?” for the fifth time that morning. After all, his appetite truly was insatiable.

#one piece #x reader #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #monkey d garp #garp x reader #monkey d garp x reader #mihawk #platonic mihawk #mihawk's assistant #garp is a menace #monkey d garp smut #op smut #op x reader smut #garp smut #op garp #age gap kink

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onyourhyuck · 2 years

Text

〔 MASTERLIST FICS 〕

.　 *　.　　　　. 　 ° 　. ● ° .

¸ .　　★　° :.　 . • ° 　 .　 *　:.　☆

° :. ° .☆ 　 . ● .° °★

★　　★°★ . 　*　　.　 °☆ 　. ● . ★　° .　 •

[Lee Haechan.]

Lowlife part 2.

Light Weight.

Lowlife.

Heart 2 Heart.

Growing Pains.

I just want to get high with my lover.

Sore Loser. <3

Faith In You.

Red String Theory Part 3.

Red String Theory Part 2.

Red String Theory Part 1.

KEEP IT A SECRET.

Back 2 U.

More Than Friends, Less Than Lovers.

Rules.

Childish.

Reflections.

3:00 AM.

6:00 AM.

Meddle About.

Sorry, Heart.

Bully.

MIROTIC Love.

One Thousand Desires.

Womaniser.

Needin’ Gangsta Love.

Hate The Game Not The Player.

Contract Love.

Quiet Down.

Professional Teaser.

Unpredictable.

He provoked me!

[Mark Lee.]

Ultimate Spider-Man: Spider-Mark.

GOLDEN HOUR.

Crimson Lace Part 2

Crimson Lace Part 1

MIRACLES DO HAPPEN.

BEST FRIEND.

Ballin Series: Shooting My Shot.

5:55PM.

Cupid’s Chokehold.

Looks That Kill.

Rockstar.

Déjà Vu.

Peppermint?

Not So Holy Afterall.

[Jung Jaehyun.]

Do I Wanna Know?

Perfume.

White Night.

2 Baddies Jaewoo.

Sweater Weather Part 1.

Sweater Weather Part 2.

Sweater Weather Part 3.

Ballin Series: Meet Me At The Court.

[Lee Taeyong.]

CANDY.

[Lee Jeno.]

Double Whammy.

Sleigh Race.

Anti Romantic.

Neighbour From Hell.

Sinking Ships.

Just The Way I Like It.

Tutor Sesh.

Ridin’.

Jealousy, Jealousy.

[Na Jaemin.]

Mrs Na? Part 2.

Mrs Na? Part 1.

The Anatomy Of Na Jaemin.

Obsession.

10:00PM.

Her Protector.

Kiss & Make Up.

His Princess.

Knight In Shining Armour.

[Park Jisung.]

Special Mittens.

7 Days.

REPLAY.

[Huang Renjun.]

Giddy’ Up!

Trigger The Fever.

Oops! I Did It Again.

Sneaky Link.

Devil’s Touch.

Just A Substitute.

[Na Yuta.]

We Met In April.

Baby Daddy.

The Cursed Nine Tailed.

Touch.

[Kim Doyoung.]

Rent A Boyfriend.

Kiss.

The Next Step.

Exam SZN.

[Kim Jungwoo.]

Dive.

Can We Go Back?

CANDY.

2 Baddies Jaewoo.

Options.

[Johhny Suh.]

His Healer.

Never-Ending Goodbyes Part 1

CANDY.

Unbreakable Promise: Meet Me In Another Life.

Only His.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank youu! Reblog this post and follow me for more updates it helps out.

Tags: @angelbabyhyuck

#nct fanfiction #nct smut #nct x reader #nct u scenarios #nct series #jeno smut #nct hard hours #nct masterpost #nct masterlist #nct scenarios #nct jaemin smut #mark smut #haechan smut #johnny smut #jaehyun smut #renjun smut #jisung fluff

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seresinhangmanjake · 8 months

Text

I've Promised You Forever

Dad!Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female reader

Summary: Jake and his Honey are married!

Notes/Warnings: None, really.

Words: 2454

Oh, Baby Series

---

“You’re less nervous than I expected,” Rooster said, his eyes meeting Jake’s in the mirror as they adjusted their bowties in sync.

They’d been up for hours, the whole house alive and bustling as people put things in place. Phoenix, his mother, and Gram stayed by your side, but the rest of his team set about accomplishing their own tasks. Coyote was on decorations. Payback on flowers. Fanboy on the cake—probably not the best of ideas if they wanted it arriving without a bite taken out of the side. Bob had Eve. And Rooster, with the exception of occasionally checking on the others, had remained with Jake.

“Am I?” Jake asked, but in truth his friend was right. He wasn’t nervous. From all that led up to this day, he found no reason to be.

“For this being the day you marry the love of your life? Yes, I would say you’re surprisingly calm.” Done with his tie, Rooster turned to eye the side of his friend’s face. “I mean, I know this is literally happening in your own backyard, but it’s still a big deal.”

Jake finished messing with the bow and his hand landed on Rooster’s shoulder, giving it a few pats. “Of course it’s a big deal. I’m not denying that.”

“Ok, then why—”

“How is she doing?”

Rooster paused at the sudden shift, but adaptable as he was, he adjusted quickly to the randomly tossed question. He thought over his answer, then his brow lightly pinched, his head tilted to the side, and he said, “Actually…no more nervous than you.” He shook the confusion off his face. “I don’t get it. I’d be freaking out right now, but I guess I’ll chalk it up to you two already facing such a hefty amount of trials and tribulations together that you’re numb to nerves.”

Jake chuckled. That hefty amount was no joke. Nothing about you and Jake managed to edge along the conventional route. Not how you became a family. Not how you developed as a couple. Not how you chose to marry. Your relationship was forced through more than most, and at the end of the day, it was being one another’s rock in a sea of utter chaos that made it all survivable.

More challenges would find their way to his family, Jake knew. No one was immune. But come hell or high water, you and Jake proved to be unbreakable, and that wasn’t going to change.

“She looks incredible, though,” Rooster continued. “You’re going to lose your mind.”

—

“How do you feel? Are you nervous? Can you believe you’re finally going to be married?” All questions shot from Jake's mother as she straightened out the veil attached to your loose bun. “It feels so different being a wife. But I know you’re the best possible woman for my son.”

You turned your head to meet her eyes and you smiled. “Thank you, Eliza.”

She rounded you and took your hand in hers, lightly squeezing. “I know you and Jake have had a rather unique journey, but if anything, I believe that proves how much you are meant to be together.”

You grinned and nodded in agreement. Unique was right. In every way. From the moment you met, you knew your path together would not be straight. It would have its twists and its turns, as it eventually did. But that jagged road the two of you had wobbled along trained you and Jake to accept being different. And in being different, you were more than happy to throw out rules and expectations, instead choosing to do exactly as you wanted whenever you wanted to do it.

That habit was demonstrated perfectly the night prior when Jake snuck back home despite his mother’s and friends’ insistence on not seeing his bride before the wedding. He’d waited until his team fell asleep at Rooster's, then drove back to his house, kissed his daughter’s forehead, and snuggled up to you in bed, not caring about the scolding once his absence would be discovered come morning; a scolding that came in the form of his Gram's small hand smacking into his shoulder.

A sudden knock at the door was followed by the peeking of Nat’s head into the room. “You ready?” she asked. “Rooster is about to go down the aisle with Eve.”

You grinned at the thought of the job you’d assigned your friend, which he’d accepted with an unexpected excitement. And thankfully you’d enlisted Payback as photographer so you’d get to see for yourself the six-foot tall wall of a man holding an infant and a basket of flower petals in his arms as he made his way towards Jake.

And then it would be your turn.

"Ready," you confirmed.

—

Under any other circumstances, Jake would’ve chuckled. He would’ve taken the opportunity to tease his friend the way his friends so often teased him. But as he watched Rooster carry his baby girl down the aisle, doing his best to hold her close and help her drop light pink petals along the pathway, Jake couldn’t help but smile.

Eve was content in his arms. She was peaceful, as if she knew it was a joyful day over anything else. She hadn’t cried without Mama and Daddy, Bob informed him. She didn’t fuss when made to put on her white tulle dress or slide the headband into her wispy hair. So when she reached the end of the aisle, in appreciation Jake bent down to place a kiss on her forehead before Rooster took his position to the left of his shoulder.

“Deep breath,” Rooster muttered as everyone in their seats stood and turned.

His mother’s arm was linked with yours while she guided you past your friends toward him. The smile you displayed was ear to ear. Bright. Vibrant. But his mother’s took up nearly half of her face; wide with lips pulled back so far the corners caught her tears before they could reach her chin.

She’d thanked him a million times the week before. Despite becoming so prominent in Jake’s life, she had the lingering sense that at any moment, he would cut her out again. She felt it an honor to be at her son’s wedding, to walk the woman he loved down the aisle and hand her over so he could call his little family complete. Though, rings on fingers and vows from lips were not a symbol of completion, not for him. He’d been complete from the moment you came back into his life with his baby girl strapped to your chest.

Jake’s eyes remained locked on you as you neared. Each of your steps came with a matching thump of his heart. He’d never tire of seeing you come to him; the anticipation of having you close and holding you in his arms, even when simply being greeted after a long day at work. Still, this was a bit more—an acknowledgment in front of everyone he loved that he could officially call you ‘wife’ whenever and wherever he wanted—and he pressed his heels into the ground to keep from bouncing on his toes.

Once you were close enough that he could catch your flowered perfume, Jake took your hand from his mother and raised it to his lips to brush a soft kiss over the back. “Hi, Honey," he whispered, intertwining your fingers. You gave your bouquet over to Phoenix then took his other hand, mirroring the weaving of fingers.

A subtle pink tinted your cheeks. “Hi."

“Alright,” Gram clasped her palms together. “You kids ready to be married?"

Your teasing smile sent a zing down Jake’s spine and he returned it with a wink.

"I'll take that as a yes," she said, then called to the small crowd, "You can all be seated and we'll get this show on the road."

His ears felt full of fuzz as his grandmother began to speak her practiced lines; the ones she’d run over with him a hundred times to make sure they suited his wishes, despite him telling her just as many times that whatever she would say would be perfect. Jake knew he’d be solely focused on you anyway, taking away from his ability to fully absorb her words.

Her voice was a consistent humming in his ear, and not until she lightly nudged him in the arm did he snap out of the glowy haze you’d surrounded him in to realize it was his cue.

“Right,” he said, clearing his throat. When you giggled his lips curved upwards. “Honey…” he started but then paused to stare again, just for another moment. At how amazing you were. At how beautiful, wrapped in a dress that hugged every dip and swell of your figure, with the soft style of your hair, and the red shade painting your lips. He was already imagining the marks of your kiss all over his body.

Then sensing the flush of his skin and the sting of oncoming tears, he swallowed to try to hold himself together. His fingers squeezed yours tighter.

“Honey, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it forever,” he began. “I love you. I love everything you are. Everything we are. I love the work and the struggles and the progress we’ve made to have what we have. I love our baby girl.” A tear slipped down your cheek that Jake reached up to brush away with his thumb before taking your hand again. “The two of you are my gift. My world and my heart. You own a piece of me that I never want you to give back,” he continued. “And I wake each morning thankful that you were so strong when having our Eve. I thank you for being so brave when you chose to come back into my life," he said. "You’re everything and all of it, Honey.”

Your thumb stroked over his, then you pulled his hand closer to press a kiss to the digit. “Jake,” you sniffled. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it forever.” He snickered at the familiar line before allowing a smile that matched yours to take over his face. “We were never a mistake. We weren’t a matter of convenience or simplicity. We weren’t a shot in the dark,” you said. “I believe that someway, somehow, this is where we would have inevitably found ourselves. Standing here, with our baby beside us, husband and wife. This is how it was always meant to be. And I know that in my soul.

"I love you," was a clear statement from your lips. "You are mine, Jake Seresin. You’re everything and all of it.”

Your radiating love filled him fully and he settled comfortably into the warmth that spread through his veins. Then he heard another sniffle, just to his right.

“Goodness,” Gram breathed as she wiped at a fallen tear. “You two…” She shook her head; took another breath. “Rings?”

Bob reached around Rooster to hand your ring to Jake as Phoenix slipped his into your palm. The exchange of bands rebloomed the flutters in his stomach. Then before Gram could get out her next instruction, Jake framed your face with his hands and joined your lips in a long kiss.

“I love you, Honey,” he muttered between one soft kiss and the next. “Always.”

—

The evening had passed in the blink of an eye, but you didn’t miss a single detail of how the day unfolded. Each bit of it utterly perfect. Each moment more precious than the last. You couldn’t say you woke that morning with any expectations other than to enjoy your friends and family, but now that it was nearing its close, you realized everything far surpassed what you could’ve ever hoped for. A wedding had the potential to bring some chaos, as did most things during your and Jake’s relationship, but it was nothing other than smooth and easy. Everyone you cared for was by your side. Your daughter was happy in the company of those who loved her most. And you and Jake were together. All as should be.

Under the low glow of the fairy lights woven through the trees, you and Jake swayed to the gentle music. With your head resting on his shoulder, your arms around one another, you watched your friends and family enjoying themselves. Laughing, joking, teasing each other. They took turns dancing with your daughter in their arms, dancing with each other, or their dates. Rooster’s in particular–your friend and coworker—had her eyes glued to him and a blush across her cheeks as he rocked Eve back and forth while slowly moving about the installed dance floor.

"You still feel alright with not telling them?" Jake’s voice was suddenly low in your ear, far from able to be heard by your guests with you being off to the edge of the wooden flooring.

"That we've been married for months?” you asked. “Yes, I imagine it's still best we keep that to ourselves."

“I agree,” Jake said with a chuckle. "Think of the drama we'd face from our devastating betrayal."

"I know. I can't believe how selfish we are."

He hummed. “You know, if you really think about it, by not telling them we are actually sparing them the pain and trauma.”

"That’s very true."

Jake chuckled again, a vibration from his chest to yours, and hugged you closer. A moment later you lifted your head to meet his eyes and smiled at your husband. The man who had been your husband for one hundred and twenty-six days, officially tied exactly three days after he slid that engagement ring onto your finger. You’d planned on waiting, but not seventy-two hours later, as you laid beside one another in bed, skin still damp with sweat and chests rising and falling in heavy breaths, Jake suddenly flipped on his side, cupped your cheek, and said: ‘What if we do it tomorrow?’. The rapid expelling of the question made you realize he had been thinking about it as much as you had. You’d instantly agreed, smiled, kissed, and spent the rest of the night wrapped around one another. The next morning you were married, and maintained the agreement that no one else needed to know. The two of you would know. And that was enough.

"No,” you reaffirmed, brushing a stray lock of his blond hair back into place. “I think I like having our little secret."

Jake paused the movement of your bodies and, with a grin, said, "So do I, Honey." Then he placed his hands on your cheeks, just as he had earlier in the day, and once again drew you in for a kiss.

---

A/N: I hope it was ok :)

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @cinderellasmissingshoe @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @novagreen04 @multifandomlover4life @mayhemmanaged @memeorydotcom @ryiamarie

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #top gun #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #tgm #tgm fic #tgm hangman #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin fanfic #dad!jake seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin series #jake seresin imagine

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when-wax-wings-melt · 7 months

Text

Y'all wanted the presentation? Here's the presentation. Image descriptions are below the cut!

(technically this wasnt part of the assignment, which was "write an essay and read at least one full page to the class" so the reason why there's those huge blocks of text is because that is taken directly from the essay. i can condense things if I WANT to condense them)

[ID: 15 screenshots of a powerpoint presentation. The text is either white or gray, and the theme is various shades of purple, typically with bubbles of dark/light purple and images.

Slide one: Title reading "Keeper of the Lost Cities: A Love-Hate-Love Relationship, And What It Can Do To Your Psyche" with three images on the side. The first image is a meme of two stick figures, the first saying "kotlc lore is second nature to us rabid fans so it's easy to forget that the average person only knows the average special ability count and one or two vackers", the second figure saying "and valin, of course," and the first saying "of course." with text at the bottom reading "Even when they're trying to compensate for it, experts in anything wildly overcompensate the average person's familiarity with their field." The other two images are of Shannon Messenger, a white woman with blonde hair. The images are captioned "The dastardly mastermind behind it all" and "meet Shannon Messenger".

Slide Two: Title reading "Background" with a block of text and two images. The text reads "In total, the Keeper of The Lost Cities (KOTLC) series has over 7000 pages, split between nine and a half books (Book 8.5 was, uselessly, a novella) with a planned tenth coming in late 2024, and a graphic novel dropping in November. It’s the kind of series that hooks you the same way a fisherman hooks a fish: with a promise of a treat that goes very, very unfulfilled." The top image is the cover of the first keeper of the lost cities book, captioned with "book one of what will soon consume my entire brain for years and years and years" and the bottom image is a fish staring at the top image as if it is a tasty treat, captioned "Poor, innocent little 6th grade me".

Slide Three: A block of text reading "This is to say: KOTLC is a good series, at least at first. It’s certainly been my core obsession for a good (or bad) five years. It’s a hook because you can’t escape once you’ve begun. It’s my own personal brand of heroine, as Edward Cullen might say if Bella were a too-long book series that doesn’t resolve any plotlines or character arcs and instead piles more information on top of worldbuilding until contradictions are more plentiful than the packed main cast." An image of Edward Cullen from twilight is captioned "Me, apparently".

Slide Four: A small caption at the top reads "If the series ever ends you can call me Brant when Jolie asked him to leave the Neverseen the way I will burn down my house and kill everyone I love (haha just a joke to get us going)" with an image of a huge explosion below it. Text reads, "Basically, KOTLC is a good series, but the idea of recommending it feels like I’d be violating several articles of the Geneva Conventions. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. The thought of it ending is an impossibility on the scale of the apocalypse and I hope (I'd rather) the world ends before this series does."

Slide Five: Titled "Queer-Coding in the Lost Cities" with the image of Sophie Foster and Fitz Vacker on the side. Text reads, "The queer-coding doesn't just stem from Sophie’s dedicated denial of both her worth as a human being and her desire to kiss her pretty girl friends. A connection called a “Cognate Bond” is often referred to in the text as the closest two elves can become, emotionally and mentally. Cognates exist when two Telepaths (such as Sophie) have such a deep and unbreakable trust bond that they become more skilled together than they were apart. In creating and maintaining this bond, they have to complete trust exercises and not hold back secrets keeping them from total confidentiality. Sophie’s cognate is her friend (and love interest, and, debatably, ex-boyfriend) Fitz, whose romantic relationship was in a large part focused on their cognate one. Their trust exercises involve staring into each other’s eyes, holding hands, having matching rings, and Fitz telling Sophie that she’s the only person he can truly trust. Fitz also asks his father at one point if cognates are allowed to date each other— his father affirms the statement."

Slide Six: Titled "Queer-Coding: Qualden, Tiertice, and such other 🤨🏳️‍🌈 moments" with the text, "Notably, Alden has the authority to do so since he himself was a cognate, only undergoing a nasty breakup— sorry, only losing the bond after his cognate, Quinlin, kept too many secrets. It’s implied that two other characters were once almost Cognates, only to grow too far apart when one of them, Prentice, has his sanity forcibly shattered and is locked in prison, leaving his (gay lover) best friend, Tiergan (code name Granite), to raise his son. The choice to parallel Fitz/Sophie, Alden/Quinlin, and Tiergan/Prentice was possibly not a conscious one, since Messenger has never attempted to hint at the existence of homosexuality before, but it still resonates with hundreds of queer teen readers who look at the portrayal of utter devotion and trust between two men and think, wow. this is what i see in myself." The image is a quote from Neverseen, reading "'What did you give him?' Granite asked, cradling Prentice like a baby. Prentice's head lolled to the side, his body limp and pale." / "Granite held Prentice tighter, whispering, 'It's going to be okay.'"

Slide Seven: Titled "Honorary Errol "I have five identities and they're all the true me" Forkle Mention". Smaller text below reads "Strut it Magnate "I inspired Loki but don’t even ask about the horse thing" Leto!" A picture of Mr. Forkle is next to a tumble post by me about Forkle being trans based on the Loki thing. The slide is decorated with several trans flags.

Slide Eight: Titled "Beauty Standards" with text reading "Speaking of things Shannon Messenger did subconsciously, it’s so painfully clear that this series was written by a white American woman that it makes me break out in hives. Messenger establishes very early on in the series that all elves, no matter who they are, are gorgeous in comparison to humans. For some reason that I’m sure has no correlation to Sophie and therefore Messenger’s personal biases (aka Western hetero/cisnormativity and gender roles), every single elven character is slim with clear skin and no glasses. For some reason, beards seem to be impossible for elves to grow naturally, since the only time facial hair ever appears on anyone’s face is when they take an elixir to change their appearance." An image of Sophie with her human family is captioned "Sophie with her ugly nasty disgusting human family apparently".

Slide Nine: Text reading "Valin is a member of “the drooly boys” who, had they been “human, would’ve been skinny, with acne and braces. Since they were elves, they were fairly good-looking—or they could’ve been if they hadn’t slicked their hair into greasy ponytails” (Messenger KOTLC 170). It seems elves have evolved past the need for brown eyes, acne, crooked teeth, facial hair beyond eyebrows, and variations in body fat—not to mention most other features that make people unique. There is indeed a single elf who is fat and even has wrinkles (elves also don’t physically age past 30, fun fact). He alters his appearance with berries that swell his skin, making him the only unique body type besides Sophie’s human family, who are consistently thrown in terrible comparison to her new, movie-star-looking adoptive parents. The berries also make him smell, interestingly enough." Images of Councillors Zarina, Terik, and Clarette line the right side of the slide.

Slide Ten: Text reading: "By portraying the elves as the standard for beauty and then removing any pimple, stretch mark, fat roll, body hair, crooked tooth, big nose, or any of the thousands of features that add depth to faces and bodies, Messenger tells us that perfection lies in eliminating all “flaws.” She tells her young readers that they are desirable if they look like Sophie, or Biana, or Keefe—not Stina with her curly hair, or Dex’s too-skinny arms, or Forkle’s large stomach, or my human body." The family portrait of the Vackers is also there.

Slide Eleven: Text reading: "Mostly, what defines KOTLC is how it’s interpreted rather than the content itself. I look at Sophie Foster and see parts of myself, but that does not make her me. These characters always feel so painfully real, desperately relatable, as if Messenger cobbled together a main cast from bits of my life, but they are not. In the end, they are just characters. In the end, it’s just a series made for middle schoolers, in the same way the sun is just the sun, and the stars are just there to twinkle merrily and not to be explored." Sophie on the cover of Exile is also there.

Slide Twelve: Text reading "Literally the day after I finished this presentation a new Marella short story came out in the paperback version of Stellarlune (book 9). This is a quote in the short story:" with a picture of the short story of Marella being gay about Linh. Also on the slide is "🚨🚨🚨Alert Alert!🚨🚨🚨" "🤨🤨🤨🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️" and "Everyone is excited about Marellinh canon but I think she will simply never acknowledge it again."

Slide Thirteen: Just the text "Oh, By The Way, This Series Is Off The Walls Insane"

Slide Fourteen: Text reading "Things that happen in this series: Alicorns have sex and then there is a graphic birth scene (but the Forkle as Loki thing is going too far 🤨), Love Interest confesses his feelings by telling Sophie he wants her to be assigned to marry him by the government, An ogre bodyguard plays matchmaker with her charge and his crush (successfully), There's a guy who can sense "potential" except is definitely lying about this, Villains die so disappointingly. So far we have "hit on head with rock" "smushed by door opened too quickly" "exploded" "fell into evil birthing sauce" (this last one was cool though), and A school principal becomes president" Three tumblr screenshots and memes detailing other things that happen in the book are also there.

Slide Fifteen: THE END. A screenshot captioned with "Credits for the fake book 7 cover go to @/aphelea on tumblr" shows a canva/booktok style fake cover for Flashback, with a dancing couple, a horse, and the words "he was a boy. she was a horse. could I make it any more obvious?"

/end id]

#this id was HELLLLLLL by the way. like I had to take breaks and stuff this was TERRIBLE #i hope it's good enough because fellows. my eye is actively twitching from writing that shit out manually #anyways hope u enjoy the essay might make it somewhere sometime blah blah #summer rambles #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #the essay was actually mainly about sophie's insecurity but #it's even better w the transitions #i'll have you know my class LOVED this they were giggling and chortling and such #if the quality is bad. well. good thing we have these lovely image descriptions

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oscarseyebrow · 7 months

Text

Hurricane: Chapter One

Pairings: din djarin x force sensitive female reader Rating: explicit. 18+ (later chapters will contain explicit smut) Word count: 9k Warnings: canon typical violence, mention of death of enemies, description of injury, reader being captured, slow burn, enemies to lovers. later chapters will include pregnancy and a brief mention of the death of a parent. A/N: while being on a hiatus, i decided to rewrite this fic as it had completely changed direction from where i began and i wasn't happy with it. i hope you all enjoy the new version as much as i've enjoyed writing it again and this time, i will tell the end of their story! i also want to give the biggest shoutout to @the-scandalorian for your time, your patience and your constant support. thank you for being the best beta and a wonderful friend 💖 Series masterlist | Masterlist | Taglist

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Heavy boots pound relentlessly, their rhythmic thuds echoing through the twisted, uneven terrain of the forest. They never falter or break their stride, propelling you forward. Each step interrupts the eerie calls of creatures in the night, a cacophony of sounds that sends shivers down your spine. Like sinister fingers, the branches snap, scrape, and snag, viciously clawing at your clothing and skin as you desperately try to outrun your pursuer.

He’s close. Closer than ever before.

This is what it has come down to, a deadly game of cat and mouse, an unrelenting chase where every move determines your fate. Time had become a blur, lost to the dark abyss that had inked over your surroundings long before you ventured into it. The very darkness you hoped would grant you cover now seems to conspire against you, mocking your latest attempt to slip away unnoticed.

Over the months, you had encountered many hunters on your trail. At first, it had seemed almost effortless to elude them. Your abilities granted you an undeniable advantage—speed, agility, and an unwelcome connection to the Force. None of them had stood a chance against you; their end had come before they even knew what was happening.

But this hunter was different, tenacious and unyielding in his pursuit. He closes the gap with every twist and turn, narrowing the distance between you. Your name, once a mere whisper in the wind, now reverberates with an ominous promise as he tracks you to your last known location.

His strength is palpable, his determination unbreakable. And now, here you are—heart pounding in your chest, consumed by a single instinct: to run. You push against your limits, desperately seeking an escape from the predator hot on your heels.

A red, searing spark slices through the darkness, a fleeting flash from a blaster. The acrid scent of burnt air mingles with the sound of splintering bark, a tree beside you left scarred in its wake. Instinctively, you tuck into a tight roll, narrowly evading the next shot.

A bead of sweat trickles down your forehead, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. The fine line between life and death stretches taut before you, and you refuse to grant him the satisfaction of being the one to sever it.

You’re back up on your feet as another surge of raw energy courses through your veins. Each stride is a calculated leap, nimble and agile, clearing any obstacles that threaten to halt you in your tracks. The thicket becomes denser, the branches clawing at your flesh with renewed vengeance, as if conspiring to slow your progress and grant him the upper hand. Yet, you continue in silence, the wave of adrenaline numbing your senses, shielding you from the pain of their grip.

Finally, when your feet clear an uprooted tree, you deliberately drop to the ground. Fingers gripping your blaster tightly, the safety disengaged, you force your racing breaths to slow.

In the stillness that envelops the darkened forest, you listen intently, attuning your senses to the silence around you. You push beyond the pounding of your heart, further still, and that’s where you notice it. An absence of sound. The weighty silence settles like a suffocating blanket, shrouding both predator and prey. The thunderous thud of his heavy boots has ceased, mirroring the stillness of your own.

Pressing your back against the rough bark of a fallen tree, you draw a deep breath, steeling yourself. This is who you are, a fighter, a survivor. You’re equipped with the skills to get out of this situation—you had been taught well under the Empire.

For a fleeting moment, you close your eyes. The world around you teems with vibrant life; pulsates with an energy you can’t resist. You tap into it, harnessing the power that had gotten you into this whole mess.

Given the situation, it’s difficult to focus, but still, you try. You reach out in an attempt to grasp any help the Force has to offer. Despite the struggle, you find what you’re looking for—a flickering presence that doesn’t belong here—The Mandalorian.

Suddenly, a sound breaks the silence—a rustle, a snapping twig—your gaze darts toward the opposite direction from where you had sensed him. It seems too distant to be him. Could the Force have misguided you? Was it possible for the Force to be wrong? It had been so long since you were able to use it properly, to truly call upon your connection to it…maybe you weren’t interpreting it correctly.

You ignore the guidance offered to you through the Force and place your trust solely in your surroundings. Deep down, you know he’s close. Yet, you dismiss the pull of your gut instinct and opt to slip away.

It’s now or never.

Your body presses low to the ground while you move silently. Damp leaves and thick mud cling to your front. Every sense in your body sharpens—the scent of the mossy ground beneath you, the sting of sweat mingling with the scrapes on your skin. Your entire being fixates on survival, pausing for a second to reach out to the Force again to check your surroundings.

Nothing. There are no sounds that don’t belong to the eerie symphony of the darkened forest—no thundering beskar, no trace of movement or breath. Absolute stillness. Slowly, you rise, surveying the moonlit area for a moment before you propel yourself toward a narrow gap between two gnarled trees.

Freedom beckons, so tantalizingly close. Just a few more strides, and it would be right there, within your grasp.

Then, it happens.

It hits you with the force of a cataclysmic collision, expelling all of the air from your lungs. The Mandalorian emerges from behind the tree, anticipating the impact, his solid frame poised to absorb the force of your body hurtling toward him. For just a split second, there’s a feeling of complete weightlessness before you collide with the ground. You’re down, but not defeated. Swiftly shifting your weight to the left, you avoid his grasp and deliver a quick kick to his knee, causing him to crash down beside you.

Synchronized movement unfolds, an intricate dance of opponents keenly aware of each other’s every move. You fire first, only for him to dart out of the way with a lightning-quick dodge, your shot barely grazing the corner of his chest plate. The ricochet momentarily shatters your focus, panic creeping into your core as you begin to grapple with the consequences of your misjudged shot, while the Mandalorian seems to register surprise at your near hit.

Undeterred, he launches once more, but you’re too quick. You take evasive action, executing a roll, your fist connecting flawlessly with the side of his ribs as you raise again. He’s winded. His modulated groan reverberates in the air and allows you a second to recover. But he’s not far behind. Now back on your feet, you parry his relentless attacks, the rhythm of the battle pulsating between you.

Neither relenting nor yielding, every fibre of your being fights for your survival while he fights for credits that will no doubt buy his next meal. This can’t be how it ends for you. You’ve endured too much to be taken down by a mere bounty hunter.

Grunts and groans puncture the air as blows land on both sides. His attacks are measured and deliberate, his reach surpassing yours. But you’re much quicker. Amidst the chaos, you sidestep his lunging assault, seizing his arm and leveraging the momentum to hurl his heavy frame to the ground. You’re almost proud of yourself until he retaliates and sweeps your legs from beneath you. Gravity pulls you down once more, your head colliding with his armour and causing an explosive burst of light to engulf your vision.

Your focus wanes, slipping from your grasp. You blink, once, twice, and then he has you.

“Stop fighting,” he demands, breathless yet commanding, as he pins you to the ground and traps your arms with his knees.

At that moment, you note the stark contrast between his voice and your expectations. He sounds different. His voice is devoid of emotion, yet soft. Distorted, yet strangely velvety. Gasping for air to desperately refill your lungs, you both engage in a silent struggle, your eyes fixating on the impenetrable visor of his helmet. It reveals nothing and yet you can sense it, the energy radiating from within. He holds no satisfaction in completing this job. After the relentless chase, you expected a triumphant gloat to be concealed within that mental shell. But it’s not.

Tilting your head away from his gaze, your fingers strain where they’re pinned to your sides. You have a vibroblade, nestled securely in the strap around your thigh. The tips of your trembling fingers brush the handle, its coldness a stark contrast against your clammy palm.

“Fuck you,” your words escape in a breathy whisper as you launch your next desperate attack, but it’s anticipated and effortlessly countered. The last thing you see is his helmet descending upon you, followed by a resounding thud. Darkness falls, consuming all your senses.

The cat has caught the mouse.

***

A gentle swaying motion and a caressing breeze coax you back to consciousness. In that fleeting moment, you could be anywhere–weightless atop the tranquil surface of a serene lake, bathed in the warmth of the sun. It kisses your skin, filling you with a sense of serenity you rarely experience these days. It has been an eternity since you felt such freedom, devoid of burdens. In this relaxed, suspended state, you are liberated, free. If you were to extend your fingertips, you could almost feel the cool water cascading over them, your body gently rocking in its embrace.

And so, you reach out, anticipating the familiar sensation. But instead, an icy chill seizes your hand, a sudden heaviness grips your being, and your limbs refuse to respond. Panic surges, robbing you of the tranquil calm that had momentarily embraced you. A searing pain lances through your side, jolting you awake.

Gasping, your eyes snap open as you struggle to make sense of your disorientated surroundings. Gone is the water, the lake, the radiant sunlight. Instead, you find yourself suspended upside down, a tattered cape fluttering behind the imposing figure of heavy boots.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Fuck.

You’re alive, but your freedom is gone. Your hands are bound, your body hoisted unceremoniously over a rigid shoulder. You have a choice to make: do you submit and face your fate or continue the fight? You’re exhausted, your body bruised and aching…do you have anything left in you to fight?

This can’t be the end.

With gritted teeth, you clasp your hands together, summoning every ounce of strength you have left. They fall upon the man’s back with a resounding force, a desperate attempt to break free from his grip. Yet, his armoured form barely registers the impact, beskar shielding him from the brunt of your attack.

“Put me down!” Your voice is cracked and dry but overflowing with defiance as you writhe and strain against his strong grip.

He tightens against your struggles. It’s the only response you get and you find it ignites a new flame of determination from your darkest depths. You shift your weight, aiming to unbalance him. For a moment, you think it works. He staggers, offset by your attempt but whether through your own effort or his loss of patience, he eventually drops you to the ground in a graceless heap.

It’s then that the full extent of your exhaustion becomes clear: muscles ache, bones protest, and the pulsating throb in your head spreads outwards to the point you find yourself closing your eyes and applying pressure to the area where the Mandalorian had headbutted you.

The asshole. If you were to survive this night, you knew there would be a shining bruise there come the morning.

You attempt to push yourself up to your knees, hoping to make it to your feet. It’s not to be. A mud-coated boot gives you the smallest shove and you end up rolling onto your back, defeated once again.

You close your eyes, attempting to steady your breathing amidst the waves of pain. When you open them once more, you find him standing above you, his head slightly tilted against the backdrop of twinkling stars. This isn’t the time for distractions, but you can’t help noticing the way his beskar illuminates beneath the reflective glow of the moonlight.

“I can bring you in warm…” his voice breaks the silence, presenting the first option to you before taking a deliberate pause. “Or I can bring you in cold.”

His hand gestures toward the ominous presence of his blaster, and right beside it, tucked into his belt, is your own. Moments tick by, and he remains motionless above you, an enigmatic statue frozen in time.

Without a single word, your decision is made evident as you sit up. The Mandalorian reaches down, his gloved hand gripping your wrist restraints, and effortlessly hoists you to your feet. He leads the way, his strides pulling you along until you fall into step beside him, surveying your surroundings. The forest is now all but gone from sight in the darkness, and you see that you’re closer to the outskirts of town.

You trudge across the uneven terrain, contemplating the different outcomes that await you. None of them are hopeful. One thing is clear in every scenario: you can’t outrun or outfight this bounty hunter. So where does that leave you? A surge of frustration courses through you, angered by the situation you have allowed yourself to fall into. Anger bubbles beneath the surface, and so, you unleash your next attack with words instead of actions.

“Did they send you to do the job the others couldn’t?” you ask. “How many did it take before they brought you out? Five? Six? I lose count of how many I’ve had to kill.”

Still, he remains silent as your steady voice taunts, probing for a reaction. He refuses to give you the satisfaction of acknowledgement. His message is clear: you’re wasting your breath.

Undeterred, you press on, uncaring whether he answers or not, “Did they have families? Were they your friends?”

Nothing. Resolute silence.

It only angers you more. You twist your arms, attempting to free your restraints from his grasp as you pull away from him in a bid for freedom. The man follows, his muscles tensing beneath the armour to keep his grip on you as you fight against him and finally show the first cracks of panic.

“I swear to the Maker and all the Gods above, as soon as I get out of these restraints, I’ll make you regret every second of this. Do you hear me?”

If he does, he doesn’t answer you, so you raise your voice, “I said do you fucking hear me?”

“Yes, I fucking hear you,” he grits and pulls your body closer to prevent you from flailing around.

He’s frustrated, you can feel it. It oozes from him like a thick, suffocating smog. There’s a moment of silence between you and he chooses to wait, allowing you a few seconds to calm down before he speaks again.

“I’m not the only one looking for you, but I am the only one willing to take you in alive. So are you going to let me get us out of here, or are you betting on your survival against the other hunters with your hands bound and no weapons?”

You despise the way his voice calms you. You want to fight, want to pull free and run in any direction possible. But there’s something that keeps you there, your eyes trained on his visor as you look for any hint of the man beneath the opaque glass. This is about survival, and being captured alive gives you a lot more options than being brought in dead.

You hate to admit it, but he’s your best option right now.

No more words are exchanged for the remainder of the journey. The crunch of gravel beneath your boots announces your arrival at the town’s entrance. A palpable silence blankets the air, unsettling in its weight. The energy shifts inexplicably, and both you and the Mandalorian tense in response. His grip on your restraints tightens, his hidden gaze scouring the surroundings, mirroring your own vigilance as you search every corner, every shadow.

With each step you take through the small town, windows shutter and people retreat from the streets. You swallow, feeling a sense of warning through the Force. And then you see it—the swift leap from one rooftop to another. This time, you’re the fortunate one, reacting swiftly. Your hands twist, seizing the bounty hunter’s wrist and yanking him out of harm's way as blaster bolts rain down upon you.

Why are you saving his life when he is so willing to hand you over for someone to sacrifice yours? It’s a clear calculation—he needs you alive, fighting with him instead of against him. This is how you both get out of here, alive. It’s a mutual understanding as you drag him to safety between two buildings.

Everything seems to happen in a blur, time accelerating rather than decelerating as it had in the forest. He releases his hold on you, shielding your defenceless form with his own body as a blaster bolt ricochets off his armour. Before you have a chance to react, his blaster is in his hand and he shoots down the attacker from the roof.

You turn, catching sight of another hunter charging toward you. With your hands bound, your only option is to rely on your perfect timing as you deliver a swift kick to the front of his knee and destabilize him with a sickening crunch of bone. It’s followed by a loud scream of agony as he doubles over, right into an uppercut from your restraints which sends him crashing to the ground, unconscious.

With a quick glance over your shoulder, you see the Mandalorian occupied with three other hunters. Now is the moment, and without any hesitation, you flee in the opposite direction.

Your footsteps echo loudly between the tall buildings, alerting those close by of your location. It’s not a smart move, goes against all of your training, but desperation propels you forward. Your path weaves through the labyrinth of twisting streets and finally, you pause, finding a temporary hiding place to catch your breath.

The pain continues to pound inside of your head, everything becoming so loud; blaster shots across the street; the yells of the pursuers being taken down by the Mandalorian. If they’ve found you this easily, you know those who work at Moff Gideon’s command won’t be far behind. Up until now, you’ve been able to play it smart, always staying one step ahead of them all. But your first mistake is proving likely to be your last.

You need to calm down. Breathe. Focus.

Every nerve ending in your body seems to come alive–you have to go, you have to run. The Force all but screams it at you, encouraging you to slip out into the street once more and take off in a slightly different direction. Swiftly taking a right turn, you hear the resounding crack of a blaster shot pierce the air. You veer left, evading two more shots. A body plummets from a nearby building, their weapon sliding along the ground. You react on instinct as you thrust out your bound hands and use your pull through the Force to snatch it into your grasp in one fluid motion. Though you’re not at the best advantage to aim, you find a way to make it work.

Gunfire and thudding sound through the streets as you engage in a fierce battle, skillfully manoeuvring through the chaos, instinctively ducking and sprinting at precisely the right moments. This isn’t a mere stroke of luck or chance–it’s a testament to your abilities, the Force, a result of countless encounters you’ve faced throughout your life.

Once again, silence descends, and you become acutely aware of your ragged breaths as you struggle against your burning lungs. You don’t have long. Seconds, maybe. You sense the Mandalorian’s energy drawing nearer. You sense him to your right, searching the street parallel to your own. Pushing a little further through the Force, you should be able to pinpoint the precise source of his energy, but you don’t have time. He seems close enough for this to work.

You step out, blaster aimed, expecting to come face-to-face with him at the exact moment you both step out into the open.

Except, he’s not there.

“What…” you breathe.

Confusion clouds your focus as your eyes dart around, desperately trying to calculate how you got it wrong. You were so sure you had the advantage, so certain of his location and the speed at which he was moving. Not once had it occurred to you that he may have also known your exact location, waiting for you to make the first move.

“No…” one simple whisper slips from you, laced heavily with dread as the beskar-clad figure emerges from the shadows.

He quickly disarms you, throwing your new-found blaster aside as his chest rises and falls in sync with your own accelerated breaths.

“Nice try,” his voice holds a hint of smugness at your apparent disbelief.

He readjusts his grip on your restraints, tugging forcefully and causing you to stumble as you dig your heels in, desperately attempting to resist his pull. Undeterred, he continues striding forward.

“I saved your life,” you try. “You owe me.”

Silence.

The rhythmic thudding of his boots is your only reply.

“I’ll take you to other bounties. I know where to find them,” you try bargaining. “You’ll get payment for food and fuel, and you’ll have more credits than you’ll ever be able to spend.”

He doesn’t appear to be interested. Your attempts are a complete waste of time.

“Please…” Your tone softens in your attempt to appeal to him without the bullshit. “Please don’t take me in. You have no idea what they do to people like me.”

He says nothing.

***

Underneath the scorching sun, a day of silence stretches out before you. Mando, as you have taken to calling him, pauses only briefly at a roadside vendor to buy a drink for you, his caution preventing him from staying any longer than necessary. Now that other hunters have caught wind of your whereabouts, he insists on keeping a low profile…as low as a shiny tin-can-of-a-man is able to.

As the day wears on, the sun gradually descends towards the horizon, casting elongated shadows across the landscape. With each agonizing step, the fatigue in your feet intensifies, while the searing pain in your wrists serves as a constant reminder that you need to find a way out of your restraints. If Mando harbours any concerns for your well-being, he conceals it well. But then again, why would he care? To him, you’re nothing more than a contract that promises credits.

Throughout the day, you find your thoughts wandering to who exactly he will be delivering you to. Will it be the New Republic? The notorious Bounty Hunters’ Guild? Or perhaps he would hand deliver you to Moff Gideon himself.

Somehow, you doubt the latter.

You walk together until the land becomes vast and barren with very few discernable landmarks in sight. It’s here that Mando comes to an abrupt halt, catching you off guard. Towering boulders provide convenient cover, but more importantly, smaller rocks offer a place to sit and rest after hours of relentless walking. He turns his head slowly, surveying the area and once satisfied there are no immediate threats, he finally turns to look at you. Despite not being able to see his eyes, you feel his gaze from behind the inky-black visor. His eyes fix you in place while he decides his next move carefully.

“We’ll wait it out here until dark.”

It’s a logical decision and one that resonates with familiarity. You understand it far too well, slipping away under the cover of darkness, hoping to evade detection. With a slight nod of your head, you silently show your understanding.

Exhaustion weighs heavily on you as you finally ease yourself down to rest on one of the weathered rocks. Every muscle protests, throbbing with aches in places you never knew existed. The events of the past day have taken an undeniable toll on you, leaving you feeling as though decades have been added to your battered and bruised body.

“Do you think you could remove these for a little while?” you ask, a touch of vulnerability lacing your words.

Mando subtly shifts his weight. It offers a glimmer of hope, a sign of the smallest crack in his resolve. You maintain the helpless facade, testing the waters a little more.

“Where would I go? We’re in the middle of nowhere and I’m too exhausted to fight you. Even if I tried to run, you’d catch me before I took a single step away from this rock.”

You feel his conflict, and while your lips desperately long to curl into a smirk, you force yourself to frown deeply and wince while flexing your fingers slowly. There’s no faking the hiss of discomfort that follows when the metal bites a little deeper into the raw skin beneath the bindings.

“Fine,” he sighs. “But try anything and you’ll be back in these until I hand you over…got it?”

You nod. Mando doesn’t move. He’s waiting for you to say it. You find yourself gritting your teeth as you bite back any snide remark that begs to claw its way out: he won’t be able to get you back in these things once you are out of them. But you play along, letting him feel as though he has the upper hand here while you bide your time.

“I understand.”

Mando steps close enough to you to work on releasing the binders from your wrists. His presence becomes palpable. You smell the scent of the forest intertwined within the threads of fabric beneath his armour; the subtle fragrance of the well-worn leather of his gloves, a testament to the countless battles he must have fought. Beneath his flack vest, a faint musk clings to his skin, a lingering trace of his relentless pursuit. In a different situation, this combination of smells would be alluring, drawing you closer with a desire for familiarity and comfort. But in your current predicament, they serve only as a reminder of your capture.

A prickling sensation tingles across the broken skin that had been hidden beneath the unforgiving grip of the binders. The gentle touch of the evening breeze carries a coolness that both soothes and aggravates the tender area. As Mando stands before you, there’s an unexpected pause, almost as though he contemplates the discomfort that has been his doing. His gaze lingers for a fleeting moment, revealing a flicker of empathy. You watch him with interest, seeing a glimpse into the depths of his guarded nature. And then he remembers himself: he retreats into his stoic demeanour and turns away from you to settle onto a rock across from yours.

Only slivers of daylight remain as the final light of the day starts to give way to night. You know you’re on very limited time: once the sun completely descends and darkness falls, you’ll be on the move again. You have to do what you can to make yourself valuable enough to save. This isn’t the first time you’ve found yourself captured; you know how this works.

“So, you’re a Mandalorian?” you begin.

Your question carries across to Mando and you watch the way his helmet tilts ever so slightly, showing that you have his attention.

“It’s not often you see Mandalorians these days…I’ve only ever met one before. Very different to you, though. Whew, she was a talker.”

“You’ve met others like me?” Mando asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Hook, line and sinker.

“Only once…” you trail off, observing the way he hangs on your every word. “At one time, she was very powerful. She had a whole following of Mandalorians. But…things happened and her followers found a new leader–don’t worry, she was still alive when I left…a great fighter, though. You Mandalorians sure are equipped with some fancy accessories.”

“Who is she?”

At this, you simply smile at him and shrug a little before turning your head away, pretending to lose interest in the conversation that he has fully immersed himself into.

“I’m afraid that information stays with me,” you confirm and then glance back over at him with your follow-up. “Whether I take it with me to my grave is up to you.”

***

They had found you.

Following a brief respite and hours of relentless travel shrouded in darkness, the hunters had, at last, closed in on your location as the first faint glimmers of daybreak began to paint the horizon.

Your boots pound through the dew-covered grass as Mando’s footfalls echo in sync with yours, an urgent rhythm as you both try to put as much distance as possible between yourselves and the chaos that unfurls behind you. The ship is so close. A beacon of hope in the early morning sunlight, its gleaming exterior promising escape.

A rapid beeping pierces the air, growing in intensity with each passing second. You know exactly what that is, and so does Mando. There’s a split second of shared recognition of the impending danger, and in a swift, instinctive motion, he propels his body towards yours. The impact takes you down to the ground, his sturdy frame protecting you just in time as the explosion reverberates through the air and unleashes a powerful shockwave. Mando’s armour absorbs the brunt of the debris, shielding you from it. As soon as it passes, his body is gone, allowing you to regain your bearings.

It’s hard to focus. Your ears ring, your head swims. Somewhere amidst the muffled chaos, you hear Mando’s voice, urgent and commanding. Time seems to stretch on, distorting reality as you blink and shake your head in a desperate attempt to clear your brain and focus.

“Come on!” Mando yells.

With a determined effort, you push yourself up onto your knees, only to feel a firm grip on your hand. One of Mando’s gloved hands clasps yours, pulling you upright again. The strength of his grip steadies you, allowing you to find your balance.

“Take this,” Mando pushes something cold and heavy into your hand. You drop your eyes to see your blaster and even in your disorientated state, it’s a surprise. “Now run for the ship. Run!”

One last burst of energy, that’s all you have to give. With a nod, you wrap your hand securely around your blaster and start your sprint for safety. Blaster bolts pierce the air around you, crackling and pinging on impact with the ship as they ricochet in every direction.

The Mandalorian follows your trail of disturbed grass. His pace is slower–hindered by the shots he turns to fire at the hunters–but he’s not too far behind. He’s close enough to deploy the ramp, within distance to shout for you to take cover and as he thunders up behind you, he fires a few more shots to slow them down.

“Take down as many as you can,” he gets out between his ragged breaths. “Then hit this button when I say—it will close the ramp as we take off.”

With that, he’s gone, leaving you alone, staring at the button for the ramp.

Time seems to slow as you stand there, torn between the decisions you have to make: do you stay and trust this man to help you, or do you jump out as you close the ramp? He wouldn’t be able to stop you during take-off.

A heavy frown clouds your features, intertwined deeply with conflicting emotions. The Mandalorian has gotten you this far. He has kept his word of protecting you. Were you going to betray him after he had quite literally put his life on the line to save yours?

Your trembling fingers rest against the button, ready for your cue to press it.

Who were you kidding? You’re not going to press it.

You’re not conflicted. You owe this man nothing.

A third plan forms in your head and you draw in a slow breath as a flicker of determination sparks a new fire deep inside of you. This is self-preservation. It isn’t personal.

His command travels through the hatch from the cockpit, his instruction clear as the engines rumble their signal of take-off.

“Press it now!”

You don’t.

You stand and watch the hunters approaching, almost close enough for you to execute this plan.

“It’s not working!” you lie, edging your words with a beautiful act of panic. “I’m pressing it, and nothing is happening!”

Within seconds, boots thud overhead and then a blur of beskar jumps down through the hatch. Mando makes no use of the ladder in his hurry.

“What do you mean, it’s not working?”

The stakes are high. You have one shot at this and you can’t fuck it up.

“I’m pressing it and nothing is happening!”

Mando steps closer to the panel as you take a small step to the side, creating the perfect line-up of his body with the ramp. Your decision has been made, fueled by desperation and the hope that, in the end, this would all be worth it.

You draw in another steady breath and let it out slowly, focusing on the hunters as they approach, waiting for just the right moment as Mando’s thumb hovers over the button.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur quietly.

His helmet snaps around to face you. You don’t need to see beneath his visor to understand the exact moment the disbelief hits him.

He has no time to react. With the hardest kick you can manage, you send him tumbling down the ramp and into the clutches of the hunters below.

***

It doesn’t take long before you bring the ship down into a controlled landing. The hisses and whirs are accompanied by your muttered curse as you sigh and rest your head back against the pilot’s chair. There’s a sense of regret forcing its way in. You know deep down that returning to the room you have spent weeks hiding out in is a gamble. You’re risking everything to come back here. But you can’t leave without what little belongings you have left. Their worth outweighs the danger. They hold more than material value; they hold the key to your survival, the last traces of your past. They’re all you have left of your life before and the risk to retrieve them will always seem worthwhile.

With closed eyes, you reach out for the Force, seeking solace and insight. You search for a glimpse of the path that lies ahead, for a warning of any danger that awaits you if you leave the safety of the ship. But as the Force welcomes you, it withholds the answers you need. Instead, it offers something different, something unexpected. A current pulses through your connection, a bright energy that has been absent for so long. It seems as though the Force has chosen to reveal a different path to you and you push further in an attempt to see more.

Another Force user, closer in proximity than you’ve felt since you were a child. Their light is pure, untarnished by the pull of the darkside. Hesitantly, you push yourself up from the chair and look around the cockpit. For now, you’re alone, but there’s a persistent pull that beckons you to search further through the ship.

You don’t have time for this, you remind yourself as you climb down into the hull. There is a very angry Mandalorian looking for you. He would find you and when he did, he would no doubt kill you for what you had done: you crossed him, stole his ship.

No, you were becoming distracted, your connection to the Force seeming to drop like radio static on an out-of-tune channel. You breathe slowly, regaining your focus and allowing the pull to guide you as you come to a set of small doors. Whatever it is you’re able to feel is on the other side, alert and waiting, aware of your presence.

You’re not entirely sure what you’re expecting when you hit the button, but you’re taken aback by the large, glossy orb-like eyes that stare up at you. It’s something small, green, and rather peculiar-looking. Large ears perk up and it tilts a small head, curious at the sight of you. You’re not the Mandalorian that owns this ship. You’re not supposed to be here.

The realisation happens like the toppling of dominos and your stomach plummets: a Mandalorian, a Force-sensitive child.

These were the two Moff Gideon had been looking for. They had to be.

What were the chances of finding another Mandalorian bounty hunter with a Force-sensitive child in his care?

You step back, head reeling and heart pounding. This discovery, this child, could be your ticket to redemption, a chance to be welcomed home by Gideon. You can’t deny yourself a moment of envisioning what that would look like, offering the innocent life you’ve stumbled upon as a testament to your unwavering loyalty. You can almost hear his praise, see the way his lips curl into a knowing smile as he opens his arms to you…no.

You would never go back there. You couldn’t.

Panic sets in as the last fragments of your control slip through your fingers. All that’s left is vulnerability, exposed like a raw nerve. You sever your connection to the Force and this child, knowing that nothing good would come of it. You’re losing—the odds are stacked against you and in your panic, you slam your hand repeatedly against the control panel to seal the doors to the cot once more.

You have to go. You have to get as far away from this child as possible, you have to leave behind the last flickering chance of reconciliation with Gideon. The safety of this child outweighs any opportunity for absolution, you know that deep down. It doesn’t make the choice any easier though. It bares down upon you as you flee from the ship, having already wasted too much time.

In the cover of your room, dried mud cracks from your boots, crumbling and joining the tapestry of unidentifiable stains on the floor. You had paid over double the credits for this dismal sanctuary, the owner’s vow of silence now a hollow promise in hindsight. The bounty hunter had tracked you down regardless.

As you pace, the floorboards groan underfoot, protesting the burden of their existence, while the peeling paint on the walls reveals grime and more stains below. You could have chosen a more upscale haven, a place where unsavoury memories weren’t woven into the current lodgings, but anonymity was your greatest ally.

You need to calm down. You have to think about this carefully.

Amidst the storm of panic threatening to engulf you, you have to remind yourself of the important facts. A single close call had shaken your resolve, but you were still clinging to your advantage, a precarious lead in this deadly chase.

Drawing in a deep, measured breath, you quiet the clamour of thoughts echoing through your mind. You sift through the chaos, grasping only those that will serve your survival right now. Everything else, you would deal with later, once safely away from the bounty hunter.

Your pacing ceases. Your hands find solace braced against the small table before you. As you lower your head, your gaze studies the small collection of possessions resting there–a few additional blasters, a clean outfit, and a meticulously crafted helmet. It was a gift, given to you by someone you had cherished deeply; someone you had respected and looked up to.

What would he say if he could see you now?

He had given everything for you. He had taught you, trained you, tried to guide you, and for what? Since his passing, you had chosen every wrong path that strayed so far from his teachings that you could barely recall them these days.

A soft, ragged breath escapes your lips, carrying with it the weight of the situation as you move one of your bruised and blooded hands to rest against your helmet. Oh, how you long for his counsel. You would give anything to hear his wisdom and witness his ability to navigate even the biggest problems with unerring precision. Deep down, you know what he would say. Keep fighting.

A swift shake of your head brings your focus back into sight and you begin to gather up your belongings. Methodically, they find their place within your bag, which you wear with a wince as it settles into a tender area of your shoulder. Everything you hold dear now fits within a single bag, not counting the arsenal of weaponry you securely fasten into their rightful place. Some had been lost during the chase, but you still had more than enough for another encounter, if one should arise.

With everything you own in tow, you stride toward the door, prepared and determined to escape from the planet and continue your life of being on the run. However, your journey is abruptly halted within a second of the door sliding open. Cold beskar collides with you, knocking the breath from your lungs as you’re unceremoniously pinned against the opposite wall, belongings now strewn across the stained floor. Your hands desperately grapple his arm in an attempt to ease some of the pressure restricting your airways. But he doesn’t budge. Mando has learned the hard way, and he refuses to allow you even an inch of movement.

One of his strong arms presses across your collarbones, keeping you in place while the end of his blaster jabs underneath your jaw, causing a cold stillness to settle across your writhing body.

“If you’ve laid even one finger on him…”

The limited space between you is fraught with tension, disturbed only by the sound of the safety catch being disengaged. It’s a noise you’ve heard countless times, but this time, you find yourself beginning to panic as you hear the tone of his voice. It’s devoid of the stoicism you had become familiar with, and instead, it carries an undertone of desperation, an element of urgency that cuts through you and warns you of Mando’s intentions if he doesn’t get the answers he wants.

Your lips part as you try to struggle again, gasping for air so that you can answer him.

“I…I…I can’t…” your voice is strained in your attempt to draw in a breath.

Mando’s arm is suddenly gone, and so is the support of the wall as you’re hurled away from it. Aching bones are met with the abrupt, unwelcoming force of the table as you stumble against the edge of it. Pain explodes from your hip, sending a shockwave through your body and you finally crumple to the floor.

Every muscle tenses, every instinct screams at you to react, but your limbs feel strangely unresponsive as you drink in the precious air, your lungs greedily accepting the offering.

What you first perceived as aggression now takes on an entirely new face as he advances toward you. Fear, palpable and potent. It’s a fear of losing something precious, something that he holds most dear: the child.

“I didn’t touch him!” Your words erupt from you, your own panic saturating your words.

You scramble backward, your hand instinctively extending as a feeble barricade against his approach.

“I didn’t touch him,” you repeat. “He’s safe, I swear. He’s on the ship.”

A heavy silence descends upon the room, tense and thick with contemplation. From behind the visor, you feel Mando’s gaze fixed on you, unwavering and inscrutable. You sense his hesitation and observe the way the tight ball of his first slowly unfurls. This isn’t a man easily deceived, but you think he believes you. He accepts your truth.

He bends and retrieves your helmet from the floor, silently studying it as he turns it in his hands. You wonder if he understands it, if he can sense the triumphs and losses it has seen. His gloved fingers run along the helmet’s contours, feeling the subtle grooves and indentations that give the dark metal its distinctive character.

“Who are you?” Mando finally asks.

His helmet tilts fractionally and you know his eyes are now on you again.

“I’m someone who can take you to Moff Gideon.”

Every muscle in his body freezes at that name. You have him right where you need him, and when all you’re met with is silence, you continue.

“I’ll come with you. I won’t fight you. Then you can decide if you’re going to turn me over…or let me help you. We have a common enemy, Mando, and—”

“Stop talking,” he cuts you off.

“Instead of fighting each other, we can help each other. You want to find him, and we can–”

“There is no we,” his voice is firm.

He leaves no room for misinterpretation as he closes in on you again.

“Give me your hands.”

With a heavy sigh, you hold them out and close your eyes as the binders pinch at the raw skin around your wrists. What did you think he was going to do? You had crossed him, fed him to the wolves and stolen his ship.

He picks your bag up from the floor and hoists it over his shoulder then takes hold of your helmet in one hand, your restraints in the other, and walks you out of the room.

You needed a new plan.

***

The tranquil azure light of hyperspace dances through the hatch from the cockpit, bathing you in the smooth glow. Since your return to the ship, the bounty hunter had spent most of his time up in the cockpit and you welcomed the silence that had settled in his absence. It gave you the space you needed to reflect on the chaotic sequence of events that had led to this moment; you, sitting on the cold, metal floor of the hold with your back against the sealed cargo crates.

There was a lot to think about.

Occasionally, a terse command from the cockpit breaks the silence of the ship. You pick up on words such as “no” and “stop that”, which only seem to be met with coos and soft babbling. The child’s voice, innocent and almost oblivious to the tension that lingers in the air.

During the hours that follow, you drift in and out of uneasy sleep. Each time, fragmented dreams are interrupted by the vessel’s subtle tremors and the soft cadence of Mando’s footsteps as he periodically checks on you. The rhythmic thuds of his boots become almost imperceptible until, at last, he descends from the cockpit once more. With the child asleep above, you can only assume he has time to focus his attention on you again.

You blink, focusing your gaze through the dimly lit hold as you watch him take a seat on the crate across from you.

“Here,” he murmurs and extends a flask toward you.

Bound hands make it challenging, but you manage to take it and consume nearly its entirety in desperate gulps. The cold liquid caresses down your parched throat and helps to soothe the dry, scratchy sensation. You contemplate wiping your mouth on the back of your dirty hands, but upon closer inspection, you pause with the realisation that they are still stained with dirt and blood. Much like your torn and tattered clothes, they bore witness to the battles you’ve endured with the man sitting opposite you.

“Thank you,” you finally speak, voice croaking with the lingering dryness the water hadn’t been able to soothe.

He offers a brief nod and maintains a steady gaze through his visor. You have piqued his interest, despite the way he fights against it.

“Do you have a name?” you ask after a prolonged silence.

“Mando is fine,” comes his reply. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

For the first time since he joined you, you avert your eyes and focus on the wall behind him. By now, you have mastered the art of silence and elusive answers as a way to reveal very little of yourself under interrogation.

“I’ve worked for many people,” you reply flatly.

Mando sighs at the lack of depth to your answer, as if he had expected something a little more from you.

“How did you find other Mandalorians?”

Your gaze returns to him as he asks his next question. He tries to hide his desire for knowledge, and his yearning to discover others of his kind. It resonates with you on a deep level. You understand his desperation, having experienced it yourself. The longing to connect with those who share your story, your origins, your essence. Yet, you’re aware of the harsh reality; the Jedi had mostly been killed and any who survived had vanished. Mandalorians were but a scattered few, their presence so sparse in the galaxy that they barely existed at all.

“As I said,” you shrug and immediately regret it when a sharp pain jolts through your shoulder and upper arm. You desperately try to hide the wince, but it flashes across your face quicker than you’re able to fight it. “I’ve worked for many people.”

He sighs heavily. You know this man is smart enough to know when he is fighting a losing battle. You’re tired, you’re hungry and there’s not an area of your body that doesn’t ache. You’re in no mood for his questions.

Mando moves to stand, his own groan of discomfort audible through the static of his modulator. You’ve both taken quite the beating and you can’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction that you’re not the only one struggling.

“Do you…” He begins and then trails off as though still processing his next question. “Do you want to get cleaned up?”

That was quite unexpected.

You raise your eyebrows slowly, suspicious of his endgame. It’s almost as if he picks up on your hesitation because he quickly clarifies.

“I’ll go back up into the cockpit. You can use this area…and the fresher is right there,” he nods in the direction of a small opening in the corner.

“I…uh,” your eyes dart back over to him, still somewhat suspicious. “That would be great…thank you?”

You’re not entirely sure why it comes out as a question. With an edge of hesitation, you twist yourself just enough to hook your arm over the top of the crate so you can use it to pull yourself back up to your feet.

“Could you take these off?”

You hold up your hands, bringing your binders into view. This time, it’s Mando who hesitates. His helmet has a subtle tilt while he considers your question and your previous actions.

“No,” he states firmly.

“No? How do you expect me to clean up when I can’t use my hands?”

He shrugs. He stares straight at you and shrugs.

“I warned you not to make me regret taking them off last time.”

Your stare hardens into a glare so fierce, you’re almost sure it could melt his precious beskar armour. The tension in your jaw sets your teeth into a tight clench as your fingers unintentionally begin to curl into fists. He sees your festering frustration and chooses to defuse it.

“You see that?” Mando asks and points to something over your shoulder. You turn your head slowly, spotting the carbonite chamber over the far side of the hold. “That’s where you’ll end up if you so much as think about pulling another stunt like you did earlier. Consider yourself lucky you’re standing here with your wrists bound. Get cleaned up or don’t, the choice is yours.”

You say nothing. It takes every fraction of your control not to laugh at that. Lucky? You’re far from lucky right now.

You want to get cleaned up, you really do. But your stubbornness keeps you rooted to the spot, your eyes continuing to burn a hole through the front of his visor to keep him on edge. You’re unpredictable, he knows that. It’s how you have managed to slip through so many attempted captures. So while you understand his need to protect himself and the child while you’re on his ship, it doesn’t stop you from being pissed off about it.

Still holding your silence, you cross to the fresher and turn to close the door. There is no door. All that sits on the wall is a broken control panel, the functional buttons long gone.

You sense his heavy gaze lingering on you as you turn on the water and watch the way it cascades over your fingers, a brief respite to wash away the layers of dirt and dried blood caking your skin. Glancing up, you meet your reflection in the small mirror, and a heavy sigh escapes your lips. The evidence of the gruelling confrontation is marked across your skin in the form of vivid, darkening bruises. Scratches, trophies of your frantic battle amongst the branches, streak across your cheeks.

You try to cup the water, attempting to bring some relief to your battered face, but each attempt fails. The water slips through the gaps in your bound hands, unable to keep hold of it in their limited position. Your frustration snaps as you slam your hands down against the small sink. Simultaneously, an agonising surge of pain courses through your arm, causing a small cry to escape you before you’re able to muffle it. Everything about this is humiliating. He stands watching you, a silent witness to your struggle.

You should have fought harder. To the death, if you had to. You had given in too easily and allowed yourself to be captured. What would Gideon say if he could see you now? Something tells you that you won’t need to wait long to find out. Once Mando hands you over, he will find you.

“Here, let me help,” Mando’s voice–albeit softer now–startles you from the small doorway.

“Why?” you snap. “So you can feel better about yourself? So I can thank you for taking care of me after you fucking captured me?”

You don’t give him time to answer. His silences are too long and you’re done with them.

“You did this,” you shove him with your other arm, causing him to stumble back a couple of steps from the doorway. “You did this. You asshole. You fucking asshole. You should have put me in carbonite and been done with it! You…You…”

You reach to shove his chest again but this time, he grabs hold of your hands and keeps them pressed against his chestplate.

“You asshole,” your voice cracks.

The wind has been taken out of your sails and your head lowers, defeated.

“Are you done?” he asks, his voice still calm and quiet.

Your silence is the only answer he gets and when you don’t pull away from him, he lowers your hands and releases your binders. Not for the first time that day, your senses are filled with him. You think you would be able to identify his smell anywhere now; well-worn leather, polished armour, a musk on his skin. It takes you back to hours earlier, when he had first removed your binders and stood so close to you.

“Can I see your shoulder?”

You nod and help him with removing your shoulder pauldrons. He takes each one in his gloved hands and places them down carefully, treating them with the respect he would show the pieces of his own armour. Each time, he waits for you. He keeps his hands at a respectful distance while you unclasp your shirt. He turns his helmet to allow you some modesty as you slowly slip your arm free so he’s able to feel around the area when you tell him he can.

No further words are exchanged. He simply follows your lead, as though he is beginning to learn your movements. He has studied you, memorised your fighting pattern, and watched your decision-making processes. In the hours you have spent together, both in and out of combat, he has started piecing together the parts of you he has seen.

He removes his dirty gloves and sets them down beside your pauldrons. With your eyes still lowered, you note the inky tones of his bruised knuckles and the way his fingers flex almost nervously at being exposed under your gaze. It’s the first part of him that you have seen, the first glimpse of the person beneath all of his armour.

“Turn around,” he instructs.

Very slowly, he moves his hands toward your shoulder and it catches you off guard. It’s not his actions that surprise you but rather the warmth of his touch as his fingers gently seek out the tender area he had seen you struggling with earlier. Everything about him had been cold and frigid; his voice, his posture, his overall demeanour…yet his warmth, unexpectedly coursing through his touch, reminds you of his humanity.

A hiss escapes your lips as your breath catches when his thumb applies pressure to the most sensitive point, coaxing an involuntary flinch from you.

“Sorry,” he’s quick to apologise. “Try and keep still. I need to feel around this area.”

The cold that radiates from his beskar is a stark contrast to the warmth of his hands and despite the discomfort they cause when he moves your arm slowly to assess the movement you have, his touch is not unwelcome on your skin.

No. You have to stop that thought right there.

“I can’t say for sure, but it doesn’t seem like anything is broken. Could be a torn muscle. It’s probably going to be tender for a few days.”

You nod, signalling your understanding as he helps you to slip your arm back into your shirt. Your mind bounces between the way his hands felt, the warmth they brought to your skin, and the way he had mentioned a ‘few days’ so casually in his assessment of your shoulder.

Did that mean there was still a chance for you to make yourself valuable enough to not hand over?

“I’ll leave you to get cleaned up. Do you…do you want some soup?”

You can’t help yourself. You lift your gaze, unable to hide the half-amused, half-confused expression from your face. This is a funny little dynamic you have going on, one of threatening violence and offering soup. At this, you begin to smile.

“Soup would be great.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #mando x reader #mando x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #hurricane series

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lendeah · 4 months

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After the Weave 1.

series masterlist

Summary:

After defeating the Nether Brain, Gale makes a promise to Tav: he will move to Waterdeep and marry her. However, he breaks his pledge when he feels the pull of his former goddess, Mystra, and leaves to forge the Karsus Crown and become a god, which leaves Tav feeling betrayed and alone.

Astarion, now fully consumed by the shadows, offers Tav a new mission. Together, they try to rebuild themselves and move on from their past. As they rely on each other in unexpected ways, they find a new sense of purpose and meaning, and realize that fate will always lead you back to where you belong.

Pairing: Astarion x OFC!Tav, past Gale x OFC!Tav

Tags: Angst, Drinking to Cope, References to Depression, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Emotional Baggage, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Post-Break Up, Tav finds herself again with Astarion, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, language.

Also on AO3

Being with him was like being enveloped in a warm, golden glow; his presence adding vibrancy and light to every moment. Even in the bleakest moments, when I felt lost in the chaos of battle, he remained a constant beacon of hope and love. His strong arms always provided support and comfort, our souls intertwining in ways I never thought possible. But every now and then, when the chaos around us subsided and we had a moment of peace, Gale would pull me away from the rest of our troop. We would find a quiet spot, away from prying eyes, and just be together. In those moments, it was like the rest of the world didn't exist. It was just him and me.

"With you, I forget my goddess. I love you" he had whispered in my ear, under a sea of stars. And in that moment, it felt like all of my doubts and fears disappeared. Gale's love for me was real and true; it was something worth holding onto amidst the chaos of war.

So as we stood victorious over the defeated Brain, I turned to the wizard with a triumphant smile and tears streaming down my cheeks. This was what we had risked our lives for, what we had fought and bled for.

"Beloved," Gale whispered, his voice brimming with emotion. "We have faced countless perils together, defying fate itself. Our love has withstood trials and tribulations that most would crumble under. I cannot fathom another day without you by my side."He took a step closer, our bodies gravitating towards each other as if pulled by an invisible force.

The crashing waves and salty sea air filled their lungs as they stood on the decks of the city, overlooking the ocean. The sun was setting in a blaze of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over our faces. "Let us leave this place," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "We should go back home to Waterdeep. We can build a life together, away from the battles and the constant threat of danger. We can find solace in each other's arms, and create a haven where love and peace reign supreme." he took a deep breath, mustering the courage to add, "Let's get married." His words resonated deep within my soul, stirring a longing I hadn't realized was there. Yes, Waterdeep, the city of wonders and dreams, seemed like the perfect place to start our new chapter.

"Yes," I whispered, the word escaping my lips like a fervent prayer. "I'd be honored to marry you, Gale Dekarios."

He took me that same night, slow and deliberate, as if we had all the time in the world. As we laid in each other's arms, the the warm body next to mine, our intertwined hands, and synchronized breaths felt like an unbreakable bond, our future stretching out before us like an endless summer day. And through the days following the battle, it did. Helping reconstruct buildings, tending the wounded, and giving food and shelter to those in need; everything was keeping us so busy that I didn't notice the faraway look in his eyes. He still held me close at night, his touch as loving as ever, but something seemed to be weighing heavily on his mind.

One morning, exactly one week after the last battle, when my hand reached out instinctively to the side of the bed where Gale used to lay, I felt coldness that wasn't there before. The familiar scent of his cologne lingered in the air, but the silence revealed a very different reality. A heavy feeling settled in my chest as I tried to swallow down the lump in my throat. My eyes scanned our small tent frantically, searching for any sign of him, but all that remained was a single letter addressed to me. Its edges were slightly crumpled, evidence of many folds and unfolding during long nights. With trembling hands, I opened it and read every word carefully, trying to hold onto every piece of him that I could.

To my love

The crown is somewhere in the Chionthar. If I salvage the stones I can reforge it. Only then can I attain the power to protect us from all harm, my love. We could rule together, you as my goddess by my side as I ascend to godhood. I know I pledged to forsake my past for you, but now I must break that vow. The weight of this curse is too heavy for me to bear alone, and I cannot bear the thought of living with it forever. I need to confront her, to stand as her equal this time. I will do everything in my power to surpass her, to make up for all the wrongs she has done, even if it means leaving you behind. But you must understand that if I am successful, I will return to you and make up for all the time we have lost. Please hold onto hope and know that my heart aches with every step I take away from you.

Farewell, my love, until we can be reunited once again.

My tears turned into a relentless stream, blurring the words on Gale's letter as I read it for what felt like the hundredth time. Each phrase cut deeper than the last, carving painful wounds that would never heal. How could he do this to me? Betrayal and rage consumed me as I struggled to understand how the person who had asked me to marry him barely days before could turn their back on it for the sake of power and vengeance.

After that, everything became a blur. I found myself falling into a rhythm of constant busyness. I would wake up at the crack of dawn and immediately begin tackling the tasks that awaited me. And while it brought me some sense of fulfillment to help those in need, it also served as a convenient distraction from Gale's absence and his quest for power. If I kept myself busy enough, I wouldn't have time to dwell on my shattered relationship with Gale, on the nightmares that plagued my mind with the blood and death I had been through in the last year.

I had become known as the go-to person for any problem, big or small. I made sure to accept every task that came my way, no matter how difficult or time-consuming it may have been. Whether it was helping someone mend their broken roof or comforting a grieving family, I threw myself into each task with determination and purpose. But it wasn't just physical tasks that occupied my time. Many villagers would come to me seeking advice or simply wanting someone to listen to their troubles. And so, in addition to being their physical savior, I became their emotional support as well. For that brief moment when they smiled or thanked me for my help, all the weight on my shoulders lifted and for just a moment, everything felt okay again. Yet, behind my forced smile and empathetic words lay the reality of my shattered existence, haunted each night by the memories of my past as the darkness enveloped me.

Each night, I awoke drenched in sweat, my mind haunted by visions of cruel emperors, slaughtered gnomes, and fallen tieflings. The stench of death clung to me, as if the blood was still fresh on my hands. And the nightmare continued, as I woke up alone in a dirty basement, with no one to turn to. So it became my mission not to sleep; if I was busy and distracted, I didn't have time to think about Gale or death. And if my actions were making other people happy in the process, then everyone won.

However, as the days passed, I could feel myself becoming more and more distant from my friends. With Halsin, Wyll and Karlach gone, Lae'zel busy settling her people in the city, Shadowheart tirelessly rebuilding Selûne's temple, and Astarion retreating into the shadows, I felt completely alone. I found myself longing for their company, for the familiar banter and laughter we used to share. But every time I even attempted to reach out to them, something held me back. Maybe it was fear of being a burden or just not wanting to face my own emotions by confronting theirs. And even on those few occasions I did meet with Lae'zel or Shadowheart, I couldn't bring myself to tell them about Gale's letter or how much it hurt me because I couldn't bear to see their pity or judgment.

"He's just traveling. You know him, always seeking knowledge!" I lied through gritted teeth.

But deep down, I knew that the lie was eating away at my soul. The truth was too painful to voice out loud, even to my closest companions.

So, I buried my agony in feeling helpful, as I always did. I worked tirelessly to provide aid to those who had lost their homes and loved ones. I took on more tasks, stayed up later, and pushed myself beyond my limits. But it seemed like the harder I tried to deny my emotions, the louder they screamed for attention. My exhaustion finally caught up to me, both physically and mentally. One day, as I was helping a family rebuild their home after a devastating fire, I collapsed from exhaustion. The family helped me, of course, but word quickly spread that I had fallen ill. People began to avoid me, their once-welcoming demeanor turning cold and distant. They no longer sought out my help or accepted any aid I offered. This only added to my mounting frustration and despair, until finally, I reached my breaking point.

With nothing but time on my hands, the memories of Gale flooded back with a force that knocked me off balance. All those moments we shared flashed before my eyes in vivid detail – our first meeting on the portal, our adventures in the underdark, where we had first kissed, him asking to marry me... It was like ripping open an old wound that never fully healed. But even worse were the memories of slashing, cutting, severing flesh, of fresh blood and dead bodies. I needed another distraction; and that distraction came in the form of wine and rum. But even as I drowned my sorrows in ale, I knew it was a temporary escape. The sweet burn of alcohol numbed the pain for a little while, but it always came back tenfold once the drinks wore off. Before long, I found myself frequenting taverns more and more often. It was my new coping mechanism, my escape from reality. With each passing day, I could feel myself spiraling deeper into despair and self-pity.

One night, as I stumbled out of yet another tavern, swaying on unsteady legs, the piercing sound of my name being called cut through the fog of alcohol-induced numbness.

"Elara, what-?" The voice was familiar and filled with concern. "Oh gosh... he has left for good, hasn't he?" the tone was gentle but firm.

My dizzy eyes can make up a silver updo and tan skin. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I glance over at Shadowheart. Her usually warm and welcoming expression was replaced by a mix of concern and disappointment.

I let out a bitter laugh before taking another swig of rum. "No shit," my words are slurred and barely coherent. "I can't believe you really bought into that whole traveling bullshit."

Shadowheart's expression shifts from concern to irritation as she leans closer to me. "Don't you dare mock me," she hisses. "You know as well as I do that something is wrong with you."

I smile grimly

"Oh, so now you care?" I say, trying to glare at Shadowheart through bleary eyes. "You have been away for months and it's only now you decide to play the savior card."

Shadowheart's expression darkened at my words, and I could see the hurt in her eyes. But I am too angry, too drunk, to care.

"Well, I'm doing just fine," I continue, taking another long sip of my drink. "So why don't you return to your temple or whatever shithole you came from and leave me alone."

She rolls her eyes.

"Yes. Of course, you're doing fine. You're so fine that I found you lying in a tavern, wallowing in self-pity, drunk off your ass. Clearly the picture of good health and sound mind."

I scoffed, staring at Shadowheart with glazed eyes. "What do you know about me? About what I've been through?" My words slurred together, fueled by the mixture of anger and alcohol coursing through my veins. "You think you can just waltz back into my life and judge me? Well, you can't. You have no idea what it feels like to be abandoned by the person you love."

Shadowheart's brows furrowed, her normally composed demeanor faltering for a moment. "I do know" she snapped "In fact, the person I love is all the way down in the freaking avernus!"

The word hung in the air between us, the weight of its significance crashing down on me like a heavy stone. I stare at Shadowheart, the alcohol dulling my senses but unable to numb the pang of guilt in my chest. She's right - I hadn't even considered what she must be going through, separated from Karlach.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, lowering my eyes in shame.

Shadowheart's expression softens slightly.

"It's alright. I know you're hurting." She pauses, choosing her next words carefully. "But drinking yourself to death won't make the pain go away. It will only make things worse."

I struggle to keep my mouth shut, but my stubbornness gets the best of me and I shake my head defiantly. "I don't care," I mutter through clenched teeth, taking another long sip of my drink. But deep down, I know that's a lie. All I want is to forget, but part of me knows that I can't just push these feelings away so easily.

Shadowheart sighs and reaches to grab my hand.

"Listen to me," she says firmly, looking me in the eyes with a determined gaze. "I know how hard this is for you. But you can't give up like this. We need you - your friends need you."

A surge of anger rises within me at her words, and I jerk my hand away from hers.

"Don't talk to me about friends," I snap bitterly. "Where were my friends when I needed them? Everyone left." I choke "Everyone always leaves."

Shadowheart's face creases "We were all dealing with grief in our own ways."

I scoff and take another gulp of my drink.

"Grief? Is that what you call it? How convenient."

Shadowheart's eyes narrow slightly at my accusation, but she keeps her composure. "I never abandoned you," she says firmly."None of us did. We were worried about you."

I let out a bitter laugh.

"Sure, you were all so worried."

After a long moment, she lets out an exhausted sigh, seemingly coming to terms with the fact that I will not budge on my decision. "You know what? Fine. Drink yourself into oblivion," she says with a resigned tone. "But just know that when you're ready to face reality, we'll be waiting." Slowly, she turns and leaves the dimly lit street.

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

Several days later, I find myself in a similar situation, but at a different place. I wanted to ensure that none of the others will attempt to track me down. While Shadowheart's words still hangered in my mind, I couldn't help but feel shame at the person I have become. It was hard to admit that I needed their help. Accepting it would mean admitting defeat and acknowledging that I hit rock bottom. But the hardest part was accepting that Gale would never come back to me, enduring the nightmares without any ale to numb them.

I sit alone at a table in the corner, watching the other clients as they laugh and drink with their companions. I envy their untroubled attitude and wish I could join in on their happiness. But deep down, I know that my grief is consuming me.

A group of rowdy half-orcs stumble over to my table, clearly drunk and looking for trouble. I try to ignore them, hoping they will just pass by. But instead, they stop right beside me and leer down at me with malicious grins.

"Looks like we found ourselves a little present," one of them slurs, gesturing towards me with his mug.

Another one takes a step closer and smirks at my face, his breath reeking of alcohol. "Look at her, all alone and pathetic."

My hands grip the edge of the table tightly as I feel a surge of anger rising within me. If I had my magic... But I take a deep breath and try to keep my voice steady as I respond,"There is nothing here for you."

The orcs, however, don't seem to care about my words as they continue to make crude comments about my appearance.

"All those scars, what are you? A mercenary?" one of them snorts, taking another step closer.

I feel a lump form in my throat as I struggle to hold back tears. Normally, I would have stood up for myself or even fought back, but tonight I am too lost in my own misery to even react. Suddenly, one of them reaches out and grabs my arm forcefully, causing me to flinch in fear.

"Come on, babe," he slurs. "I'll make you forget all about your troubles."

I start to panic, my mind racing as I search for a way out of this situation.

But before things can escalate any further, a strong hand grabs one of the men's wrists and forcefully pulls him away from me.

I look up to see a familiar face - For a second, I think it's going to be Shadowheart again, a flash of ivory hair aprearing in the corner of my eye. But then I realize it's someone much, much worse.

"Leave her alone," he growls, his voice full of authority.

It seems like they want to replicate, but once they take a look at his bared fangs, the half-orcs hesitate for a moment before backing off and leaving the tavern with grumbles and curses. When he turns his head back to me, Astarion has his usual smirk plastered over his face.

"Hello, my dear" His sharp features and piercing eyes send a shiver down my spine. "I see you've fallen quite low since our last encounter."

"What do you want, Astarion?" I spit out through gritted teeth, still shaken. Yet another companion to make fun of my state. Great.

Astarion sits down across from me, still wearing his smirk. "Just curious to see how you were coping without your favorite vampire comrade," he taunts, taking a sip of his drink. "Not very well, by the looks of you." he comments, gesturing towards my disheveled appearance. I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment as I try to smooth out my hair and straighten my clothes. This is not how I wanted to be seen by any of my friends, let alone Astarion.

"Whatever" I reply nonchalantly, "Did Shadowheart tell you to come here?"

Astarion smirks, knowing exactly how to push my buttons. "No, no, she didn't. I just happened to be in the area and thought I'd check up on my dear friend." His words drip with sarcasm.

I scoff and take another swig of my drink, trying to ignore him.

"But really," Astarion leans in closer. "What happened? One minute we're all fighting side by side, and the next, you're drowning yourself in ale."

I glared back at him, feeling defensive. "None of your damn business."

He leaned back with a smug grin. "Ah, but I think it is."

I let out an exasperated sigh and take another swig of my drink, hoping he'll get the hint and leave me alone. But as usual, Astarion seems to enjoy getting under my skin. He reaches across the table and grabs my drink before I can protest.

"Hey!" I try to grab it back but he holds it out of reach.

"No more drinking for you," he says with a mock stern expression. "Now tell me what's going on."

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine." I say, trying to dismiss the conversation.

Astarion's eyes narrow as he studies me intently. "Fine? You look like you've been through hell." he states bluntly.

I sigh and run a hand through my hair again, feeling a sense of exhaustion wash over me. Maybe it's because of everything that has happened in the past few days or maybe it's just the alcohol finally catching up to me.

I glare daggers at him and finally relent with a heavy sigh. "Fine. Gale...he's gone."

"Gone?" Astarion's eyebrows raise in surprise. "As in dead?"

I shake my head sadly. "No...just...gone." My voice cracks on the last word and I have to take a deep breath to compose myself.

A look of understanding crosses Astarion's face and he nods slowly. "Well, it looks like he really went all in on his illusions this time."

I sigh, in no mood for jesting.

Astarion, sensing my lack of humor, leans back in his chair and adopts a more serious expression. "I'm sorry for your loss," he says sincerely, sliding my drink back across the table towards me.

I reluctantly take the drink and give him a nod of acknowledgment, appreciating his rare display of empathy."Thank you," I reply, my voice softening slightly. "I appreciate that."

He nods, seemingly lost in thought for a moment before speaking again. "Although, you know, at the end of the day it's Gale we are talking about, so is it really that big of a loss?"

I roll my eyes at Astarion's insensitive comment. "He was still a good boyfriend, despite his flaws," I reply pointedly.

"Hmm..." Astarion seems to be pondering this before shrugging nonchalantly. "Well, if you say so."

I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down before continuing. "Anyway, what do you want from me? You always have an ulterior motive for your visits"

Astarion smirks again, leaning back in his chair. "You know me so well," he drawls sarcastically. "I actually came here with an interesting proposition."

I raise an eyebrow skeptically. "What kind of proposition?"

He smirks, "You see, even though I excel at pretty much everything, it appears I'm struggling with the... spawn issue, if you know what I mean." He pauses dramatically, waiting for my reaction. "And being the hero that you are," he continues with a hint of condescension, "I was wondering if you could grace me with your whole knight in shining armor wisdom and help me out. Not that I actually need it, mind you. I just think even someone as skilled as myself needs guidance in this kind of situations." He leans back in his chair, with a relaxed smile.

"No"

His face falls dramatically. "What? What do you mean no?"

I roll my eyes.

"I mean exactly what I said," I reply firmly, not breaking eye contact with Astarion. "I have no interest in being your 'knight in shining armor' or helping you with any spawn issues. Find someone else to pester."

Astarion's face falls at my immediate rejection, but he quickly composes himself and leans forward with a suave smile. "Come on, darling," he purrs, reaching out to touch my hand. "Think of the thrill, the excitement of facing such a challenge together."He pauses and adds "just like the old times."

A wave of emotion washes over me at the mere thought. Memories of the past flood my mind, when Gale's presence provided a comforting weight on my side. When our group was at its strongest and most united, standing together against all odds. When everything seemed so easy, so at reach.

I reply with a bitter tone, "Those days are gone for good."

Astarion groans "Gosh, will you stop being so dramatic."

I raise an eyebrow at that. He is one to talk.

Astarion chuckles at my eyebrow raise, a playful glint in his eyes. "Touché, my dear." he admits. "But I'm serious about this, you know. We make a great team, you and I. And who knows, maybe hunting down vampire spawn will help distract you from your... sorrows."

I sigh, torn between the desire to wallow in my grief and the possibility of finding some kind of purpose again. I will admit, weeping and drinking myself to sleep every night does, while comforting, sounds sad. Plus, Astarion's proposition is tempting. At least that way I will have something other than ale to distract myself with.

"Fine," I finally relent, surprising both him and myself. "But Just because I'm agreeing to this doesn't mean I have forgotten you haven't reached out in months."

Astarion's smirk widens as he raises an eyebrow mockingly. "Oh, I would never dream of such a thing," he says with exaggerated sincerity."But let's just say, I did save your sorry behind from those hideous orcs. So I'd say we're even now."

I roll my eyes at his theatrics but can't help feeling a glimmer of anticipation deep within me. Perhaps there is still some fight left in me after all.

With a clap of his hands, he exclaims triumphantly,"It's decided then, dear Elara. You'll join me at the Crimson Palace tomorrow. I've already arranged for a room for you here," he says smoothly. "And trust me, it's much more luxurious than any tent or tavern room you've ever stayed in."

My brows furrow

"Absolutely not. I refuse to live in that sinister place." I say firmly. "Much less if it's with you"

Astarion lets out a dramatic sigh. "Oh, of course not. Because living alone in a moldy, cramped basement beneath the barracks is much more appealing."

I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. It almost sounds like he's been planning this for a while now.

"Wait, what? How do you even..." And then, I know. "Shadowheart told you, didn't she? Is there anything she didn't tell you? That damned snitch."

Astarion chuckles at my outburst and shrugs nonchalantly. "She may have mentioned it," he admits with a sly grin."She has always been keen on gossip, after all."

I let out an exasperated sigh and shake my head.

Astarion grins, his red eyes sparkling with amusement "You can't expect me to trust you to do a good job while out of my sight. I mean, from what I see now, you could scape at any moment to get drunk and pass out in the street. And then, what good would that do to our poor spawn?" He says, pretending to be deeply worried.

I roll my eyes and cross my arms defensively. "Fine," I huff. "You win. I'll stay at the Crimson Palace, but only because it's the best option for the spawn."

Astarion raises an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Oh, so you do care about the spawn after all? I'm touched," he says sarcastically.

I shoot him a glare, and he relents with a smirk.

"Alright, alright. Enjoy your drinking session then. But don't forget, tomorrow we have important responsibilities."

"Ah yes, the joys of parenthood" I say sarcastically.

And to my surprise, I don't even finish my drink before returning to my basement, finally having something to look forward to.

#astarion ancunin #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #baldurs gate fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #astarion baldurs gate #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic

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lewmagoo · 10 months

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a curse i cannot lift | rhett abbott

description: in which everything he holds dear is ripped from his grasp

warnings: 18+ only, werewolf au, pregnancy, allusions to sex, perry abbott assaulting people (idk how else to word that lol), murder, violence, blood, kidnapping, angst, werewolves are unfairly targeted in this world

pairing: werewolf!rhett abott x f!werewolf!reader

listen to the playlist here

notes: this is part of 'the wolf' series! you technically don't have to read the first part but it'll make more sense if you do. access the first part here. access the series masterlist here

dedication: to @lovinglyeternal, without you this series wouldn't have been born. also dedicated to @bro-ooke ; thanks for beta reading this for me!

From a young age, Rhett Abbott had been taught that there was no greater honor in life than to obtain a mate. In wolf culture, finding one’s mate was a fateful, sacred occurrence. It was the joining together of two souls as one entity.

And he had found that oneness when he found you. The moment you walked into his life, his entire world changed. His fierce loyalty had always been dedicated to his family, but when the two of you joined your bloodlines, his loyalties changed.

It wasn’t that he’d turned his back on his family. Far from it, in fact. But they no longer came first. It was you that came first, above all others. Together, you were responsible for loving and protecting each other. You had made that pledge to one another on your wedding day, a blood oath that was unbreakable and would withstand the test of time.

Rhett had heard stories of the sacrifices mates were willing to make just to protect one another. But he’d never fully understood the magnitude of such a thing until he had a mate of his own. Sometimes it scared him, and made him feel a little wild, knowing the lengths he would go to to protect you.

But he wasn’t alone, because you were just as territorial over him as he was of you. You had one another’s backs, and swore to each other that you would keep the other safe. However, he would one day find himself unable to fulfill his part of that promise to you, all because of the foolish actions of one man. And those actions would result in Rhett losing you.

But hell hath no fury like a wolf whose mate is stolen from him. And when Rhett Abbott’s fury was unleashed, no one would walk away unscathed.

Neither of you could have ever imagined your lives would be turned upside down. You had only just begun your mateship together. You had made a home for yourselves on Abbott land - an old barn at the edge of the property that Rhett had converted into a living space for the two of you and the family you would soon create together.

Life together was sweeter than you ever could have imagined. From the moment you met him, you felt an all-consuming sense of peace, knowing this was who you were meant to spend the rest of your life with. He was the one that had been formed for you by the cosmos before either of you was even born. A collection of burning, blinding, brilliant stars all forged together into one beautiful man with ocean-blue eyes.

But, even for mated werewolves, life still had its difficulties. One’s hardships didn’t miraculously disappear once one found their mate. In fact, the joining together of both of your packs posed its fair share of brand-new issues.

Particularly, the issue of keeping secrets.

The Abbott family was very secretive. There were things weaved through the fabric of their family history that Royal had done his best to bury. Chief of those secrets was the fact that the land they lived upon was not their own.

Historically, werewolves were not treated like high-class individuals. In fact, they were often treated like the scum of the earth. The bottom of the barrel. Humans were afraid of their wild tendencies, and this resulted in irrational, widespread fear.

The wolf community had fought long and hard to obtain equal rights, and after a seemingly never-ending battle, they had finally made some headway. Laws had been put in place, protecting werewolves and their families from discrimination and inhumane treatment.

Laws had also been put in place against hunting werewolves. These laws had been passed in all fifty states before you or Rhett were even born. The werewolf hunting business had once been very successful, but these days, hunters were almost non-existent. Hunting and killing werewolves was now considered a federal crime.

You were of the belief that hunting for sport had been eradicated. The elders in your pack had lived through the days of the hunters, and had seen the laws passed forbidding hunting. They all believed the worst of it was behind them.

But little did you, or your pack, know that there was a family of hunters right in the very town you were living in. A prestigious family at that, one whose money was tainted by the blood of hundreds of innocent wolves.

The Tillerson family had been hunting for centuries. The only reason they decided to stop was all thanks to a little truce made with Royal Abbott.

Long before either of his boys was born, Royal had struck up a deal with Wayne and Patricia Tillerson. The Abbotts were to remain on a specified plot of land. As long as they held up their end of the bargain, the Tillersons would not harm a single hair on any of their heads. But if the Abbotts or their future offspring tried to move to unapproved plots of land, they were fair game.

The reason for this was that they didn’t want werewolves sullying the reputation of Wabang. It was a beautiful town with rich land and even richer oil wells. Werewolves would only drive away tourists and potential buyers that might come through seeking land and agricultural gain.

So, Royal and his wife settled on that specified plot of land, and it became known as the Northeast Wyoming Wolf Reservation. After that, all was seemingly fine and dandy for decades. until your pack came along.

Your pack originally left your hometown because tensions were rising with a neighboring pack. Your family had every right to live there, but the other pack harbored animosity against all of you, and instead of enduring an all-out war, your family, namely your alpha, decided it best to move elsewhere for the safety and well-being of the pack.

So, you found yourselves in Wabang, Wyoming. You joined forces with the Abbott pack, and in a twist of wonderful fate, you met Rhett, the son of Royal, which proved to you that you were always meant to come here, because in any lifetime, in any universe, you would always find him.

Royal was the alpha of the Northeast Wyoming Pack, which wasn’t much to speak of, as it was only him and his family. Royal was old and tired. When your pack came along, and it became clear that you and Rhett were to be mates, Royal willingly gave up his alpha status, because there could only be one alpha over a pack.

He allowed your uncle, Malakai, who was already the alpha of your own pack, to take leadership of the now-conjoined pack. Royal was willing to wash his hands of all of it, and it struck you as odd at first. What wolf willingly gave up their statues like that? But It would all make sense when you eventually learned of his motives. He didn’t want to be the one held responsible if anything happened to the pack. He knew if the Tillersons ever targeted the pack, the responsibility of protecting them would no longer fall upon himself. It would fall upon Malakai. And any wolf who was incapable of protecting their pack would face consequences from the National Werewolf League.

But there was, of course, the fact that Royal hadn’t been honest with your family from the beginning. He had welcomed you into the reservation, allowing you to settle there and make homes for yourselves. He had given over his alpha status. For all intents and purposes, he seemed genuinely happy to welcome your ragtag group into the fold. But he never bothered to warn you that if any of you decided to live elsewhere, outside of the reservation, you might just encounter some hunters.

Rhett hated that his father refused to tell the truth. Royal had even made his family swear they wouldn’t say anything. His reasoning was that it might cause a full-blown massacre if word got back to the Tillersons that the wolves were trying to rebel against the guidelines put in place.

While other state governments recognized werewolf hunting as illegal, the Tillersons had a particularly close relationship with the governor of Wyoming, and the leader of the state had essentially promised that he would look the other way if the wolves violated this agreement and ended up dead. He was just as money hungry as the Tillersons, and he harbored a hatred for werewolves. He was in agreement that the wolves were bad for business and was perfectly content to get rid of them if it meant protecting the state.

While Rhett understood his father’s fear, he believed it was wrong and dangerous not to tell your pack the truth. So, in the early days of your marriage, he finally decided that he could no longer sit on this secret and potentially allow it to put a rift in your marriage, or result in your family being harmed. He wanted to reveal everything to you.

So, one night, he called for a family meeting with just your pack. He had already revealed the truth to you privately, and together, you had agreed that it was only fair to inform the others. So he stood before your family that night and explained to them that they were not as safe as they thought they were.

It took guts for Rhett to go against his father like that. In your eyes, by putting the good of the pack before everything else, he displayed true alpha qualities, and something in you made you believe that someday in the future, he had what it took to take on the role as the new alpha of your pack.

But until then, there were things that needed to be sorted through. Such as the fact that there were hunters in your midst. Your family took the news better than you were expecting, but they were, of course, angry about being lied to.

“But hunting is illegal. How the hell are there even still hunters around?” One of your cousins, Jace, asked.

Rhett sighed. “The Wyoming government doesn’t give a shit about us. The Tillersons have the governor by the balls, he’ll look the other way if wolves end up dead.”

“We could report it to the League.”

“Y’ could,” Rhett replied, “I don’t know how much good it’ll do ya. They’d need proof that the Tillersons were actively hunting wolves. And so far, they aren’t. They’ve kept their noses clean for years. Without proof, the League won’t do anythin’.”

Finally, Malakai, the alpha, spoke up. “This is why your dad gave up his alpha status and let me keep mine when we joined packs, isn’t it? So none of the responsibility would fall on him.”

Rhett grimaced, nodding slowly. “I think so. But you’ll have to talk to him about that. Like I said, he didn’t want me t’ tell any of you. He was tryin’ to avoid a war with the Tillersons. If we start violatin’ our agreement with them, they might get trigger-happy.”

A murmur went through the pack. They didn’t like this situation, but at the moment, there was nothing that could be done. As long as everyone followed the contract put in place, there would be no trouble. And for the time being, it seemed as if nobody had a choice in the matter. Until another course of action could be figured out, things would remain exactly the way they were.

Rhett felt awful to have to break such news to the family. But in the end, you quietly assured him that he’d done the right thing. “I know going against your dad wasn’t easy. But I’m proud of you for making the right decision.”

“How come I still feel lousy about it?” He grumbled.

“It’ll pass,” you assured him.

And it did.

After that moment of honesty, his relationship with your family deepened. They all respected him for what he’d done. He felt loved and accepted in a way he never had before. He found a family that loved him for him. Not for what he could do for them. Not under any conditions. They just loved him. And he could hardly fathom why, but he was grateful.

But above all else, the purest of loves he’d ever felt was your love. Undying, withstanding the rest of time. You adored him, you would lay down your life for him, and he, you. Sometimes the realization stole the very breath from his lungs. Being with you just felt right. He was no longer held down by the binding loyalty he had to his own family. While he still remained loyal to them, you came first, before anyone else.

He made a pledge in his heart, determining that when the two of you had children of your own, he would never put them through what he’d had to endure as a child. A ‘tough love’ father who thought men displaying emotion was weak, and a mother who ultimately loved her children, but her loyalty to her husband overshadowed them, and made them feel like they were not as important.

Rhett would love his child unconditionally and allow them to express their emotions without fear of judgment or consequence. He would be gentle and forgiving and kind, because children deserved such mercies.

As fate would have it, he would one day receive that opportunity.

After your marriage, it didn’t take long for you to fall pregnant. With the way you went at it together during your first heat, there was no doubt in your mind that it would result in conceiving a child. And sure enough, a little while after that initial heat cycle, it happened.

Funnily enough, it was Rhett who figured it out before you even came to the conclusion yourself. And it was all because your scent had changed.

Between werewolves, one’s mate was attracted to them by scent. A mate’s scent was unique and intoxicating to the other. Neither of you would ever forget the first time you caught the eachother’s scent, when you initially met. It was overwhelming and all-consuming.

But now, something was different.

Your scent had changed. That intoxicating, spicy, sweet scent you emitted, for his senses only, had changed into something lighter. Sweeter. Almost like cotton candy. It caught his attention one morning as you were getting ready for the day.

“Stop,” he spoke, his tone low and even. He’d caught you by the arm, his large hand gentle against you.

You smiled curiously as he tugged you closer. “What?” You asked, a breathless giggle on your lips at his behavior.

“Y’ smell different.” He buried his nose against the side of your neck and inhaled deeply. It tickled, but you remained still, watching curiously as he trailed his nose lower, intent on finding the source. He froze for a moment, only to quickly drop to his knees before you. There, he nuzzled your abdomen, breathing in again.

A look of tender amazement softened his features, and he gasped, lifting his hand to press over your tummy. Then his gaze flickered up to meet your own. There were tears in those bright eyes. “You’re carryin’ my pup,” he whispered.

Your own eyes widened, and you lifted your hand, covering your mouth in surprise. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, because you had been hoping this would happen. But you were still overcome with wonderful, all-encompassing elation.

You laughed for joy, kneeling on the floor with Rhett and throwing your arms around his neck. “A baby! We’re having a baby!” You cried happily.

But he leaned back, a strange sense of wonder illuminating his features. The corners of his mouth tugged upwards into a sweet smile. “We’re havin’ a daughter,” he whispered in response, throat tight as tears glimmered in his eyes.

You stared at him in amazement. “H-how…?”

“Your scent. When Rebecca was pregnant with Amy she had that same kinda scent. Like pink cotton candy. Or maybe bubble gum. You smell the same.”

That revelation pulled a musical laugh from you, and you threw your arms around your husband again, bubbling with an excitement that warmed your belly like fizzy champagne.

“

Laughing with you, Rhett leaned back, nuzzling his nose against your own before he kissed you fervently. You melted into him, bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle.

“I knew it wouldn’t be long before I put a pup inside ya,” he murmured against your lips, mouth hot on yours.

You smiled into the kiss. “I knew it, too.”

He pulled back to fully admire you. “My beautiful mate,” he murmured in adoration, splaying his palm over your abdomen. “Mother of my child.”

He spoke with such reverence, but beneath it was a possessive air that made you shiver. You were his. He was yours. Your hearts belonged to each other, intertwined by the Fates themselves.

“Love you,” you sighed, eyes fluttering shut as you let yourself lean into his warm touch.

“I love you too, little wolf.”

You relished in that quiet, intimate moment together, overjoyed that you were finally starting your own family.

There were a few select moments in your lifetime that you would consider the best moments of your entire life. Discovering that Rhett was your mate was one of them. Your marriage to him was another. And finally, learning you were expecting a baby was the cherry on top.

You couldn’t hide your happiness if you tried. As mates, it was your shared dream to further your bloodline. It was considered the highest honor in werewolf culture. You were teeming with excitement, eager to reveal the news to the rest of the pack.

It wasn’t easy to hide, as it was. They would be able to sniff it out no matter how much you tried to hide it. So you didn’t bother hiding it at all. That very day, you shared the news with your families, receiving an emphatic “I knew it!” From your mother, and an excited “I can’t wait to have a baby cousin to play with!” From Rhett’s niece Amy.

That night, a grand celebration followed, and you swore that you didn’t stop smiling once . Oh, how your life had changed. After you announced it to your loved ones, you were happily thrust into the process of making preparations to welcome your little one into the world.

This, of course, included visits to your pack doctor, Rose Tenpenny. You had known Rose your entire life. She was a skilled pack healer and midwife who subscribed to ancient remedies and medicines, the knowledge of which had been passed down to her from her mother, and her mother’s mother before her. There was no one else you’d rather have look after your and your baby’s health than her.

You were on cloud nine as baby preparations followed. The women of the pack got together to make a memory quilt for your baby. All the men set to work building furniture for the nursery. And, best of all, Rhett took it upon himself to build a cradle for the babe. He was skilled with his hands, and he considered it the greatest honor to build this little bed for your child. He put so much love into the creation of that bed, and it touched your heart.

Everything seemed so perfect. Too good to be true. It felt as if nothing could ever take this joy away from you. That is, until it all came crashing down like a mountain avalanche.

Ever since your union with Rhett, you had had a rocky relationship with his brother, Perry. Rhett himself had a complicated past with the man, and since your marriage, he had distanced himself from his brother. He didn’t like the way Perry behaved toward you. Both of you knew it was because Perry harbored jealousy against Rhett.

He was jealous of what you had. Jealous that his little brother had a mate and he didn’t. But the reason Perry didn’t have a mate was because of his own stupidity. He had tried to force it to happen on his own rather than waiting for fate. He fell for a girl named Rebecca. She wasn’t his mate, but he insisted she was. Claimed everyone else didn’t know what they were talking about.

Perry had somehow manipulated Rebecca into believing they were mates. Or, at least, from what Rhett could see, she just went along with it to keep Perry happy. If she wanted to leave, the intention was dashed when she fell pregnant with his child.

She made the decision to stick it out and see if a baby would change Perry’s demeanor. But it didn’t. In fact, it seemed that he only got worse after Amy was born. Rebecca put up with it for the first seven years of Amy’s life, and finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. She disappeared into the night, seemingly without a trace.

Perry insisted something had happened. That she would never leave of her own free will. Someone had to have taken her. Rhett, however, believed that she did leave on her own.

You knew things had to be bad for her to leave her own child behind. That went against every instinct of a mother wolf. It made you wonder if there was more to the story. If she’d left with the intention of coming back for her child, but she had met an untimely demise in the process. You supposed you would never receive an answer to that question.

Perry delusionally claimed that he could still feel her out there. Between mates, it was a natural occurrence to be able to feel the other’s presence. And many times, when one was in danger, the other could sense it. Perry insisted he had this with Rebecca, but you knew he didn’t. He had no idea where she was because she wasn’t his to begin with.

In the meantime, his jealousy against his brother only continued to fester. Their relationship had already been strained as it was, but since Rhett had brought you into the picture, it was even worse. The only good thing to come out of it was your relationship with young Amy.

She was sweet as pie and even at her age, she knew the way her father behaved was wrong. It broke your heart that she had to deal with such things, but she didn’t let it slow her down, or change the way she felt about you and Uncle Rhett.

Perry attempted to remain civil while Amy was around, but there were times when he just couldn’t help but run his mouth and get himself in trouble. It had happened on numerous occasions, to the point where Rhett didn’t like bringing you around him

And after you found out you were expecting, your mate grew all the more protective of you. This primal need to keep you safe burned in his belly, and he wouldn’t allow anyone to harm or disrespect you.

But no matter how protective of you he became, Rhett always had full control over his wolf at all times. He could shift at will, and even when he was intensely angry or upset, he could still control the shift and keep himself from going off the rails. But Perry did not have that same control, and because of this, Rhett was always on guard when he was present around you.

His older brother was notorious for losing his temper. Rhett had seen it time and time again. Perry had always been like this. Even as a young boy.

When werewolf pups are born, they are born entirely human, and do not yet possess the ability to shift. That ability usually comes at around ten years of age.

And Perry gained that ability like clockwork on his tenth birthday. Teaching him how to control the shift was a beast in and of itself for Royal and Cecilia. They struggled like hell to help him learn how to shift at will rather than involuntarily.

Around that time, Rhett was still very small. It proved incredibly difficult to raise a little one and train a brand-new wolf. Some things fell by the wayside. Rhett did not receive the love and attention he so desperately needed during that moment in time. It was hard for him to get acclimated as he grew older.

But he saw the way Perry was, how wild his wolf was, and he decided that when his own wolf came in, he would be nothing like his brother. He would learn control.

And he did. Royal and Cecilia hoped Rhett’s ability would rub off on Perry. But, unfortunately, it did not. Instead, Perry got into trouble, and Rhett was always lumped in because he followed his brother around everywhere.

But the worst moment of all was the day Perry lost control at school.

There had always been high tensions between the Tillersons and the Abbott brothers. The three boys had an innate hatred of wolves, a prejudice ingrained within them thanks to their parents. Luke and Billy weren’t particularly aggressive toward Perry and Rhett. But Trevor? He and Perry especially hated each other.

Trevor was known for mouthing off. He’d mouth off at his parents, at his teachers, at innocent passersby in the school hallways. He was a loose canon, and it was only a matter of time before he went off on the wrong person.

Trevor foolishly decided he was going to mess with Perry that day. He caught him in the empty hallway as Perry and Rhett were leaving school. He started jeering Perry, daring him to “go werewolf” on him. Rhett, who was only twelve at the time, and significantly younger and smaller than Trevor and Perry, tried his best to pull Perry away.

But it was no use. The situation escalated until Perry was lunging, and suddenly, there was screaming, and Trevor was on the floor, clutching at his throat as blood poured from a slash wound caused by Perry’s claws.

“What did you do?!” Luke shouted as he knelt beside his wounded big brother. “You’re dead, Abbott! You hear me?! Dead!”

A teacher heard the commotion and came out, only to realize in horror what had happened. 911 was called, as were the Abbott and Tillerson parents. Perry was kept locked in a classroom, alone, until further help could arrive.

In the end, Trevor’s wound was only superficial, and he would go on to make a full recovery. However, he would walk away with a permanent scar on his neck. Four claw marks, acting as a permanent reminder that he’d been attacked by a wolf.

The offense should have garnered a heavier punishment. Patricia Tillerson was out for blood. She wanted to kill Perry for what he’d done to her son. But Wayne had a different approach. As money hungry as he was, he was fine to settle on a payment for what had happened.

Royal paid the Tillersons a hefty sum of money, which nearly drove his own family into financial ruin. They were already struggling to stay afloat as it was, and giving away that big of a sum of money set them back severely. But if he paid the sum, the hunters would leave the Abbotts alone.

So he gave them the money, and after that, the Tillerson boys were enrolled in a private school the next town over, and the instance was swept under the rug.

Angry over how it was handled, and the lack of justice for her son’s pain, Patricia threatened to leave Wayne. He told her to go, but his condition was that she couldn’t take her boys with her. He refused to let his sons go, and he threatened blackmail if she went ahead and took them anyway. So she left, alone and angry, determining that one day, she would gain the retribution she sought.

It took many years, but that opportunity finally presented itself when Wayne Tillerson dropped dead.

You’d heard about his death. The whole town had. But you didn’t care in the least. As far as you were concerned, one less werewolf hunter in the world, the better. But that still left three of his sons.

When Wayne was alive, he refused to let anyone but his lawyer and his accountant read any legal or financial papers. He didn’t let his sons get involved. But when his health started failing him, it became necessary for the boys to step in. As the eldest, Trevor took that mantle upon himself.

But it wasn’t until his father died that he really started doing a deep dive into the seemingly endless paperwork. Financial statements, property deeds, the whole nine. For Trevor, it was the property deeds that caught his attention. Specifically the deed for the land on which the Abbotts lived.

He noticed an interesting little tidbit. It appeared that the property line had been mistakenly marked, and needed to be moved back a significant distance. But it just so happened that that specific plot of land was where you and Rhett lived.

Driven by greed, Trevor took the deed to the family lawyer, insistent upon getting the go-ahead to deliver the news himself. It wasn’t difficult, and soon, he was headed right for the reservation, smug as could be, ready to deliver the blow to your family.

However, when he came lumbering up to your house and knocked loudly on the door, he received no answer. “Abbott!” He shouted, banging a little louder. But the house was empty. You and Rhett had left earlier that morning so you could go in for your monthly prenatal checkup with the pack doctor. You were both blissfully unaware that your lives were about to be turned upside down.

Back at your house, Trevor was tempted to shove the legal paper he held in his hand in your mailbox, but his heart was set on delivering it in person. However, he saw the next best person to deliver it to when he caught a glimpse of Perry just down the way, saddling up his horse.

A smirk tugged at the eldest Tillerson’s mouth. He brushed his fingers over the claw marks that scarred his neck. Maybe this could be his way of getting back at Perry for what he’d done to him all those years ago.

So he marched right toward the stables, and when Perry saw him coming, he visibly tensed. He hadn’t seen Trevor in a long time. As volatile as Perry was, even he himself had no desire to get into it with the man. He knew he’d end up killing him if given the chance, so he kept his distance.

Now, however, Trevor was coming right at him, and there was no way of keeping his distance any longer.

“Hey, Abbott!” He called.

Perry sighed. “What?”

“Any idea where that brother a’ yours is?”

Perry shrugged as he tightened the cinch on the saddle. “Fuck if I know,” he mumbled.

“Well, I have a little somethin’ for him.”

“Huh, guess you’ll have t’ wait ‘til he gets back.”

“I figured I’d just give it to you instead, an’ you can pass the word along.”

Perry rolled his eyes, stepping back toward the stable when he realized he’d set his hat down inside. “I ain’t your messenger, Trevor. Just leave it at his doorstep or somethin’.”

“Thing is, I really wanted to deliver it in person,” Trevor continued, following Perry into the stable. “I want you to read it, too.”

Again, the Abbott brother rolled his eyes, whirling around to snatch the paper from Trevor. “Fine! I’ll give it to ‘im, if that’ll get you off our fuckin’ property.”

At those words, Trevor’s smirk turned into a wicked grin. “Actually, it ain’t your property.”

That caught Perry’s attention. “What?”

“Read it.”

With furrowed brow, Perry quickly unfolded the paper and his eyes skimmed over its contents. Heat flared in his chest. “This is fuckin’ bullshit.”

“You wish. It’s legit. Either you all move that fence of yours back, or you’ll get fined by the state. And you and I both know you ain’t got the money to pay that fine, since your daddy gave it all away to get us to keep our mouths shut about what you did to me when we were kids.”

That struck a chord. The heat in Perry’s chest grew hotter. “You’re just lucky it wasn’t worse,” he grumbled.

Trevor scoffed. “So you’re saying I should be thankin’ you for not ripping out my throat?” He laughed heartily, though it was fake. “Fuck you, Abbott.” His first mistake was reaching out to shove at Perry.

The wolf growled, his eyes flashing yellow. “Get your goddamn hands off me.”

“What are y’gonna do, hm? Kill me? Maim me?”

Perry got in his face. His body trembled as he fought to control his shift. But he had no control, because he’d never learned it. “You got five seconds to get the fuck outta here.”

But Trevor wasn’t afraid. He stood chest to chest, hunter to wolf. “Do it. I dare you. Then they’ll come lookin’ for me, and when they find out you killed me it’s over for you wolves. Is that what you want? To destroy all that civil rights shit your kind fought for?”

Perry seemed to consider his words, and Trevor nodded in satisfaction. “That’s what I thought. You don’t have the balls.” And then, as he was prone to do, he had to add one last blow to his monologue. “Bet that’s why your wife left you. She realized you were a spineless fuckin’ co-”

He never did finish those words. In mere seconds, Perry was lunging, growling, out of control. And then, Trevor was on the hay-scattered floor, bleeding out, his throat slashed like it had been so many years ago. Except, this time, he wasn’t walking away alive.

Perry stood over his body, his chest heaving, growling like a wild animal. The paper he’d been holding had fluttered to the floor, and the breeze blew it into a corner to be forgotten.

Just like that, Trevor Tillerson was dead, and as the blinding red rage cleared from Perry’s vision, he realized what he’d done. He stood there, staring at the blood on his hands, and the blood on the floor, and he felt as if he was frozen in place, his feet fastened to the floor with concrete.

What should he do? He’d just killed a goddamn human. If news got out about this, it would be very, very bad, not just for the Abbott pack, but for the entire werewolf community. But Perry was very quickly beginning to panic, unsure of how to fix the egregious crime he had just committed.

So he did the only thing he knew how. He scrambled out of that barn, climbed onto the back of his horse, and set off at a gallop to his father’s house just down the way. It was nearly lunchtime, so he knew that Royal would likely be home, in the kitchen, waiting as Cecilia prepared his lunch for him.

The kitchen was quiet, save for the sound of Cecilia humming as she readied the food. Until, suddenly, Perry came bursting through the door like a bat out of hell. She dropped the knife she was holding. “Good Lord, Perry!” She exclaimed.

Royal looked up, brows raised. And that’s when he saw the blood. Cecilia also noticed, and she put a hand to her mouth. “What on earth happened?!”

Perry looked at Royal, entirely ignoring his mother. “Dad, I need help.”

Just by looking at his son, Royal seemed to know what ‘help’ entailed. He stood from his seat, already moving to grab his hat from the peg near the door.

“Royal, what-”

“I’ll be back soon, save me a plate,” he simply said as he followed his son out the door.

Cecilia fought the urge to chase after them. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what that blood meant. And she’d picked up on a specific scent when Perry came in. A scent she knew, but was too afraid to admit it. The less she knew, the better. But she had a feeling she was going to find out what had happened sooner than later.

Outside, Royal had a plan. “C’mere,” he said to his son, motioning him toward the garden hose. “First of all you need to wash this shit off so you don’t get it everywhere.”

Perry proceeded to scrub the blood from his hands, and then Royal led him to the truck. “You mind tellin’ me what the fuck happened?” He asked, voice low.

Perry sighed, lowering his head. “Trevor Tillerson came snoopin’ around.”

“Yeah, I know that, I can fuckin’ smell him on you. How did it end with you covered in his goddamn blood?!”

So, Perry recounted what had happened. Every last detail. And as he spoke, Royal paced back and forth, his boots kicking up gravel as he did so. Once his son finished, he stopped, turning to look at him. “Alright then. Let’s fix this. Before your brother gets back. The less people are involved in this, the better.”

“You…you ain’t callin’ the sheriff?” Perry asked in disbelief.

“I call the sheriff, not only do you go to jail, but it puts this whole fuckin’ pack in danger. I ain’t gonna let a group of humans run us outta our home. So we’re takin’ care of this ourselves.” He jabbed his thumb toward Perry’s horse. “Go take the tack off that horse and toss it in the back of the truck. You probably got blood all over it and that’s just gonna act as evidence if anyone comes snoopin’ around here.”

And so, the two Abbott men set about covering up the crime. They placed Trevor’s body in the back of the truck, they scrubbed the stables clean, and then, Royal instructed Perry to get into Trevor’s truck and follow after him. Royal drove his own truck and Perry followed him deep into the west pasture and as far up into the woods that the vehicles would allow them to. Then they carried Trevor the rest of the way until they came upon a good spot to bury him.

All of this took quite some time, and by the time the body was in the ground, Royal breathlessly turned to Perry. “Drive the truck up to Lover’s Lake and let it sink.”

And so, Perry did what he was told.

Just like that, the crime was covered up. Trevor Tillerson was six feet under, and the only two people in the world who knew about it were Royal and Perry. But it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

In the meantime, you and Rhett were just arriving home from your midwife appointment, blissfully unaware of what had just taken place. You were purely, incandescently happy. Doctor Tenpenny had given you a gleaming bill of health. The tiny babe within you was growing just as she should.

You were still quite early on, so you hadn’t begun to show yet. But that didn’t stop Rhett from resting his large hand against your belly from where he sat beside you in the rickety old GMC Sierra he drove. He was so very excited to be a father. The excitement sparkled in his eyes and you swore that blue had gotten impossibly brighter.

“I am so fuckin’ in love with you, little wolf,” he murmured once he’d thrown the truck into park. He leaned across the seat to kiss you sweetly.

You smiled against his mouth before you replied. “I’m so fuckin’ in love with you too.”

“M’ sweet wife.” His thumb ran circles over your abdomen. “Can’t wait to see you all round with my pup.”

You hummed, eyes fluttering shut as you relished in his warm touch. “Soon,” you assured him.

“I know. It’ll happen quicker than we can blink. Then we’ll be holdin’ our brand new baby girl.”

You kissed him again, unable to voice your feelings, because the words got caught in your throat. But that was okay, because no other words were needed.

Soon, Rhett slipped away and rounded the truck to open your door for you, which you gratefully accepted. “I was thinkin’,” he said, his arm slung around you as you walked up to the house. “Maybe I’d stop in town and grab us some lunch? I gotta bring the horses in from pasture first but after that I’ll get goin’.”

“Oh, would you?! I’ve been craving fries from Lucinda’s!” You exclaimed.

He smirked. “I know. As if you didn’t give me enough hints by sayin’ ‘I could really go for some fries!’ all mornin’,” he teased.

“Sorry, I’m just starving,” you said with a laugh.

“I’ll get ya your fries,” he assured you, “an’ a milkshake, too.”

Happily, you leaned in to kiss his cheek. “You’re the best.”

“I know,” he said right back with a knowing glint in his eyes.

You pushed at his chest as you shook your head at him. “Go tend to the horses, wolf boy.”

He stole another kiss from you, playfully swatting at your ass before he finally slipped away, allowing you to head back inside, your heart warm as you did so.

He headed over to the stables, and when the grazing horses saw him they immediately perked up. Particularly his mare, Esmeralda. She trotted up to the fence, letting out an excited whinny.

“Hey t’ you too, girl,” he said, reaching out to scratch her chin, her favorite place to receive pets. She eagerly searched his flannel pocket for treats, but came up with nothing. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. Got tied up takin’ mama to the doc. I’ll bring ya somethin’ next time.” He kissed her muzzle, and then he pulled back to saunter over to the stable so he could pull the doors open.

On his way up the lane, he caught sight of Perry approaching on horseback. But he noticed something a little off. The horse wasn’t saddled, nor was he wearing a bridle.

“The fuck you ridin’ bareback for?” Rhett asked with a slight laugh, raising a brow at his brother as he got closer.

“Cause I felt like it,” Perry mumbled as he slowed the horse and finally slid to the ground, boots kicking up gravel.

“I’ve never seen you ride without a saddle in my life,” Rhett continued.

“There’s a first time for everythin’,” Perry dismissed.

Rhett eyed him. He seemed a little…off. Not like himself. “Per, you feelin’ alright?”

“‘m fine,” he snapped.

Rhett sighed, shaking his head at his brother’s antics. He wasn’t sure what had gotten up his craw, but he decided it best not to ask questions.

Until he stepped into the stable as Perry led his horse to his stall. A strange scent hit Rhett as soon as he crossed the threshold. Strong and chemical, like bleach. But there was something else, something underlying. He breathed in deep, his face comforting in confusion.

“You smell that?” He called to Perry.

His first clue as to something being wrong should’ve been that Perry froze. “I don’t smell anythin’,” he said as he opened the stall door.

“Bullshit, it’s strong as hell,” Rhett countered. He stepped further into the building and breathed in. “I smell blood.”

Perry didn’t say a word, but just from his posture, Rhett knew he was lying. He never was good at hiding his guilt. As soon as he pulled away from the stall and moved to leave the stable, Rhett stepped into his path, blocking him.

“Why the fuck does it smell like blood and bleach in my stable?” He demanded, voice low, gaze hard.

Perry’s wide, brown eyes flickered away, looking everywhere but his brother’s face. He didn’t say a word, and it sent a flash of sizzling anger through Rhett, like a bolt of lightning. “Perry!” He barked.

“Get outta my way, Rhett.”

“No! What did you do, huh?! Hurt one of my horses?!” Rhett wouldn’t stand for harm to come to any of his animals. He’d beat Perry to a pulp if he found out he’d hurt one.

“I didn’t touch y’re fuckin horses!” Perry snapped.

Rhett could hear how fast Perry’s heart was beating, pounding erratically against his rib cage. He was lying. “If it ain’t horse blood, then whose is it?”

A beat of hesitation. Then another. And soon, it became clear that Perry wasn’t going to say a word. Rhett growled angrily and finally stepped aside. “Get the fuck out.”

And he did. Perry hightailed it out of that stable, guilt weight at his shoulders. Rhett was going to get to the bottom of this one way or another. But for now, he had a group of restless horses to tend to.

With a deep sigh, he rolled his head to loosen the tension in his neck, and then proceeded to get the horses gathered and into the stable. Just to be safe, he checked each one over for any potential injuries. But they were all unharmed, as he’d expected.

Rhett wasn’t stupid. He knew that the scent he’d caught wasn’t horse. It was human. This was someone he knew, because he recognized the underlying scent. But he didn’t want to say it out loud, didn’t want to admit who it was because then that would mean… surely his brother hadn’t killed someone, right? Perry was volatile at times but he’d never killed anyone. However, Rhett knew perfectly well what the man was capable of.

He’d seen him lose his temper. He’d seen the way Perry couldn’t control his wolf. He was capable of killing. He was one step closer to going rogue and that thought made Rhett’s stomach turn.

He hoped it wouldn’t come to that point.

In the meantime, there were other things to tend to. Rhett decided he didn’t want to go snooping. He was afraid he would find something that he wished he never knew. So, he shook the thoughts out of his head and proceeded to get the horses situated.

A little while later, he was finally making his way back to the truck, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. A shower sounded appealing, but his first order of business was, of course, picking up lunch for you.

It was a thirty-minute drive into town, so by the time he returned, it had been over an hour that he’d been gone. In that time he’d tried to push the incident with Perry out of his mind. He knew that you would notice something was wrong, and he didn’t want to potentially drag you into whatever mess his brother had just made. You were meant to be enjoying this time as you prepared to welcome your little one, he didn’t want to put any undue stress on your shoulders.

So he put his best face forward and sauntered into the house with milkshakes and bags of French fries in hand. You’d heard him pull up, and you eagerly hopped up off the couch, where you’d been reading a book that your midwife had given you.

“I was about to start gnawing on the couch,” you remarked with a smile as you scurried up to kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks for picking this up. You’re so good to me.”

“Anythin’ for you, little wolf,” he hummed. He never thought he’d turn into such a sap, but having a pregnant mate will do that to a guy. Not that he minded. You were worth getting sappy over.

“You still gonna call me little wolf once our little is born?” You asked him as you settled at the kitchen table, eager to tear open your bag of fries.

Rhett smiled as he sat across from you. “You’ll always be m’ little wolf. Even when we’ve got a little wolf of our own.”

His words warmed your chest. He made you feel so loved. You couldn’t wait to see that love translate into the way he handled your daughter. He was going to be a wonderful father, you just knew it.

Your meal progressed with comfortable conversation, the two of you discussing your plans for the rest of the day, and what the schedule looked like tomorrow. It was a sort of domesticity that you loved.

After lunch, it was back to business as usual. The day continued like any other, with nothing seemingly out of the ordinary. Rhett had even sort of forgotten about his encounter with Perry in the stable, and went about his work day like normal.

By the time evening rolled around, everything seemed perfectly fine. Rhett came inside to shower, and you got dinner on the table like you usually did, one of your favorite records playing on the antique record player you kept in the living room.

Rhett was still in the shower as you began setting the table, and you were interrupted by the sound of a car pulling up. Then there were hurried footsteps, and seconds later, the sound of pounding on your door.

Brow furrowed, you set the plate you’d been holding onto the table, tuning in to the agitated voices of two men on your porch. Something was wrong. Wiping your hands on your apron, you strolled over to the door, rolling your eyes when the pounding came again.

You pulled the door open to reveal Luke and Billy Tillerson. You stared at them in surprise. You’d heard of them plenty of times. You knew what the Tillerson name meant. But you’d never met them. Now here they were, standing right in front of you, and you could tell something was wrong.

“Can I help you?”

“Beggin’ your pardon, Mrs. Abbott. Is your man home?” Luke spoke. He offered a charming smile, as if it fixed everything.

“He’s busy. Why do you ask?”

The man shrugged. “Just need to ask him a couple questions, is all. We can wait right here for him.”

“We’re about to sit down to dinner. Can you come back tomorrow?” You offered. You got the sense that they suspected your husband of something. It made your heart quicken in your chest.

Luke narrowed his eyes, still fighting to be polite. “Now would be preferable. Really gotta talk to him.”

“Well, like I said, we’re about to—”

Suddenly, there was a strong hand on your shoulder, and Rhett was gently pulling you back, placing you safely behind him as he stepped into the doorway. “Hope you ain’t botherin’ my wife,” he said.

Luke raised a brow. “Botherin’ her? I was askin’ where you were. Mind steppin’ outside so we can talk?”

Rhett had a sneaking suspicion as to what this was about. So he turned to you. “Stay inside. I’ll be back in a minute.” He left no room for debate.

Quickly, he stepped outside, pulling the door shut. He motioned for both men to follow him off the porch, leading them a little ways away from the house, hoping your enhanced hearing wouldn’t pick up on the conversation.

“What do ya want?”

“Trevor came up here earlier today. He hasn’t been home since.”

Rhett remained neutral in expression, but the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. “Really? I didn’t see him. You sure he was here?”

“Yes, I’m sure! Came here himself to give you papers about the land you’re on.”

Rhett’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Papers? What papers?”

Behind his brother, Billy huffed. “Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb with us.”

“No, I’m bein’ serious! What papers?!”

Luke folded his arms over his chest, shifting his weight to one foot. “He came up here around 9 o’clock this mornin’ to give you papers tellin’ you that you have to move the property line back. The land you’re on right now isn’t yours.”

Rhett felt his chest tightening. “I don’t know anything about any fuckin’ papers. But I do know this land belongs to my pack and you ain’t takin’ it.”

“Look, I’m not the one who wanted to kick you off the land. If it was up to me I wouldn’t really give a shit, as long as you all keep to yourselves. But Trev cares. He talked to the lawyer. Got him to put some papers together tellin’ you to move. You’re really tellin’ the truth when you say you never got the papers?”

“I didn’t get the damn papers. I never saw Trev. I was gone this mornin’ with my wife. Didn’t come back ‘til around 10:45. Then I brought m’ horses in from pasture and went into town. I didn’t see hide nor hair of Trevor the whole time and that’s the God-honest truth.”

Luke sighed deeply, nodding his head. “Alright, alright. I believe ya. Thing is, we haven’t been able to get ahold of Trevor all day. Somethin’ happened.”

Rhett could take a pretty good guess as to what had really happened. He was putting the puzzle pieces together in his head, and his blood was beginning to boil with rage. He was tempted to tell them to go ask Perry, but he held his tongue. Part of him feared what might happen if he blew the whistle. What would it mean for the pack? Even so, he kept himself calm and steady and refused to give away

“Listen, if I hear or see anythin’, I’ll let you boys know. Until then, I’d like t’ have a nice dinner with my wife.”

It didn’t seem like Luke wanted to let it go, but he finally relented. “Fine. But this isn’t over.”

He nodded at Billy, and the two brothers turned and walked back toward their shiny new truck. Rhett remained fixed upon the driveway, his arms crossed over his chest, making sure that they actually left.

As soon as they were out of sight, he sighed deeply, bowing his head. He was torn. Should he confront Perry and try to get him to confess? Or should he just leave it? After all, the less he knew, the better.

Rhett thought of you, and the daughter you were expecting. He didn’t want anything to endanger your future. What would happen if it got out that a wolf had killed a human? All eyes in America would be on their community. Years of rights that had been fought for could be threatened.

Of course, that was the worst-case scenario. In reality, it could only end up being Perry who would pay for the crime. Maybe justice would be served fairly. But in his heart, Rhett knew that wasn’t the case. Trevor Tillerson had been looking for an excuse to run the wolves into the ground. Maybe he’d get his wish from beyond the grave.

“Rhett?” Your soft voice pulled him from his thoughts. He turned to find you standing in the doorway of your home, a look of concern on your face. “What’s going on?” You’d only caught bits and pieces of the conversation. Your heightened hearing was very useful, but you had to really focus to be able to utilize it. You had thought it best not to listen to what the men were saying, even if you were curious. If Rhett told you to stay inside, you knew he must have sensed some sort of danger.

He didn’t want to involve you in this any more than he had to. He worried that he might get pulled into it, and he didn’t want to take you down with him. He shook his head, letting out a sigh as he sauntered back to the porch. “Just…just don’t worry about it, alright? Let’s eat supper.”

“You’re not in trouble, are you?” You asked in fear. The prospect of hunters on your property made you uneasy.

“Nah, nothin’ like that. It’s better if we don’t talk about it for now. Let’s just eat supper.”

So you dropped it, even though you didn’t want to. The way his features had gone tense told you not to keep pushing. If he wanted you to know more, he would tell you.

Dinner continued as normal that night, but Rhett was quieter than he usually was, very clearly troubled by something.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” You reiterated as you stood at the sink washing dishes, with Rhett beside you drying them.

“Darlin’, I’m askin’ you right now not to bring it up. I…I don’t like keepin’ things from you but I’ve gotta think this one over before I say anythin’. Understand?”

You nodded, turning your body to face him. “Okay. You’re just worrying me, is all.”

Rhett sighed softly and tossed his dish towel aside before he reached out, large hands resting on your hips and pulling you close. “I’ve gotta do what I have to to protect you and our pup. And that’s what I’m doin’ right now. Protectin’ you. And askin’ you to trust me.”

You placed your hands on his chest, meeting his gaze. “I do trust you.”

That was all he needed to hear.

Over the next few days, he was still waging a war in his mind, trying to decide what to do. It was almost as if he was in denial. If he didn’t acknowledge Perry, if he didn’t confront him about the crime, it didn’t happen. Everything was fine.

But as he was cleaning out the stalls in the stable one morning while the horses were out to pasture, he came across something very incriminating. A crumpled piece of paper shoved away in a corner of a stall, forgotten.

Curious, Rhett bent to grab it, straightening up and letting his pitchfork rest against his side as he opened the paper. He scanned the words printed across the page, and his stomach dropped. So this was what Luke had been talking about.

Rhett stared at the paper, trembling in his grasp because his hand was beginning to shake from the anger bubbling up within him. This only confirmed what he suspected. But before he flew off the handle, he needed to get to the bottom of this. He needed to ask Perry what had really happened.

So Rhett tucked the paper in the pocket of his jeans, set his pitchfork aside, put his hat back on his head, and set off toward the Abbott house up the lane. He walked with purpose, his eyes set hard ahead of him.

He could see his brother and his father up ahead, both working on a repair in the corral fence that stood in front of the house. Royal was the first to catch sight of Rhett, and he nodded in silent greeting, curious as to why his son was in such a hurry.

“Rhett,” he called out to acknowledge the younger man’s presence.

But Rhett wasn’t there for Royal. “Can I borrow Perry for a sec?” He asked. His tone was urgent. He didn’t miss the way Perry went tense.

“Can it wait?” Royal asked. “Gotta get this fence done, we got a new horse comin’ in today and it needs to be ready.”

“It’ll only take a few minutes,” Rhett countered.

Perry sighed, but relented, setting down the crowbar in his hands before he turned and stepped out from under the fence. Rhett was already moving, encouraging his brother to follow him as he walked away from the corral.

When Rhett finally stopped, he pulled the piece of paper he’d found in the stable from his pocket. “Mind tellin’ me what this is?” He needed to hear it from his brother’s mouth.

Perry went still as a statue, his face pale. That reaction sent fire through Rhett, and his grip tightened on the paper, crumpling the end. “What the fuck did you do?” He hissed.

“N-nothin’!” Perry tried.

“Bullshit! I want you to say it! What happened in my stable, huh?! The blood I smelled? Now this paper? I know Trevor Tillerson was up here the other day. Luke came lookin’ for him that same night. I didn’t wanna believe that you were capable of somethin’ like this, but maybe you are.”

Perry was hesitating. He’d gone dead silent, as if he was frozen in place. He didn’t know what to say. And that only served to piss Rhett off.

“Talk to me, goddammit!”

“He wouldn’t shut up,” Perry finally relented. “Kept runnin’ his mouth off and I just…I snapped.”

Rhett stared at him. Eyes wide. Chest heaving. He let those words wash over him, and they felt like searing acid on his skin. “You…snapped?”

“He said somethin’ about Rebecca and I just saw red! Next thing I knew he was on the ground covered in blood!” Perry was trembling. Tears were shining in his eyes.

Rhett was vibrating. “You fucking killed him. In my stable.”

“Like I said, I just snapped!”

The younger Abbott could hardly bear to look at his brother. His head was spinning. Deep down he’d known Perry was guilty. That he’d killed Trevor. But now that he’d actually admitted it? It felt like a gut punch.

“I can’t believe you…” Rhett trailed off, hands clenching at his sides. “No, I can believe it. You’re out of fuckin’ control, Per. This is serious, you hear me? You just put the whole pack in danger!”

“I–” Perry started, but Rhett held up his hand.

“No, y’know what? You’re gon’ make this right. You’ve got two days to clean up the mess you made. Either you go to the sheriff, or I will. And if I have to do it, it ain’t gon’ be pretty.”

He shoved the paper into Perry’s hands. Then he got in his face, chest to chest. “If they start goin’ after this pack, there ain’t gonna be a place safe in heaven and earth for you. And if you think I’ll protect you when they do, you’ve got another thing comin’.”

Then, Rhett turned on his heel and stormed off, leaving Perry standing there in the driveway, staring down at the paper that had started it all. For the first time since he’d killed Trevor, the severity of the situation seemed to set in. He thought of Amy, his young daughter, and how this would affect her. If he lost her, he had nothing left. Could he really go through with confessing to this crime? Even if it meant losing what was left of his family?

Rhett was a man of his word. If Perry didn’t confess, he would do it for him, just as he said he would. But Perry felt lost. Uncertain. His judgment was clouded by his own guilt. So he turned to his father again, asking for help, because he didn’t know what to do. Royal would have an answer. Surely he would.

“I’ll talk to Rhett,” the Abbott patriarch assured his eldest son. “See if I can talk him off the ledge. I ain’t gonna let Amy lose you like she lost her ma, alright? She needs her daddy now more ‘an ever. I’ll fix this, son.”

But this was not something that could easily be fixed like a downed corral fence. It was a sinking ship with a cracked hull that no amount of sealant could repair. And whoever remained left on board would surely drown in the depths of the ocean.

In the meantime, Rhett was reeling. Now that he knew the truth, he worried that the Tillersons might show up on his doorstep again. And this time, he wasn't sure if he could lie. He was worried that they had begun to suspect him of having something to do with Trevor’s disappearance. He might soon be faced with the choice of staying quiet, or exposing his brother's nefarious deed just to save himself from being accused of it. He would not go to jail for something he didn’t do. He had a wife and a child to think about.

And when faced with a choice between his mate and his brother, Rhett would always choose you.

He hoped that Perry would do the right thing and confess to his wrongdoing. But if he made no move to fix the mess he made in two days’ time, Rhett would have no choice but to intervene. It was necessary for the good of the pack.

However, things were already spiraling out of control quicker than he even realized.

Just across town, on the Tillerson ranch, a sleek, black limousine was just pulling into the expansive driveway. Luke and Billy stood outside the house, waiting for the lone passenger to step out of the car.

The driver came around and opened the door, and moments later, Patricia Tillerson gracefully emerged from the back of the limousine, her heeled boots kicking up dust as she did so.

She stood there for a moment, reaching up to remove her sunglasses as she eyed her sons. “First your father. Now this?” She finally spoke. She had been in town a few short months ago for Wayne’s funeral. Now, here she was again, under an entirely different circumstance. “Have you made any headway into finding your brother?”

Luke shook his head. “We were waitin’ for you before we did anything else.”

Patricia sighed. “This whole time you could’ve been– you know what? Nevermind. Let’s talk inside.” She stepped past the two boys and made her way up to the large house, walking with purpose as she did so.

Luke and Billy dutifully followed her.

Patricia’s first stop was the liquor cabinet, where she poured herself a glass of brandy. Then she turned to her sons. “Tell me again what you’ve been doing to find Trevor?” Her gaze was hard. She didn’t think they’d been doing enough.

“We…we went to the reservation the other day to ask around about him. Rhett Abbott claims he never saw him. I believe him, he’s an honest man, and–”

His mother scoffed. “Man? Luke, honey, he’s an animal. A savage beast, if you will. There’s no telling the lengths he’d go to throw you off his trail.”

“But Ma, I don’t think he was trying to throw us off,” Billy echoed, shaking his head.

“Shows what you boys know about wolves. They’ll say anything to get off the hook. That fuckin’ pack had something to do with Trevor disappearing. And I pray to God it’s not the case, but they’ve more than likely killed him. Or worse, turned him into one of them. Either way, he’s dead. No son of mine will succumb to the werewolf curse. I’d sooner kill him than let him be turned.”

“So what do you want to do, then? You told me not to call the sheriff, so I didn’t. I’ve stayed silent about this, waiting for you to get here. The more time we waste, the less chance of finding him alive,” Luke pressed, motioning his arms impatiently.

Patricia downed her brandy in one go. “If they have Trevor, they aren’t going to give him up easily. So we give them a little…incentive.”

Billy and Luke shared a look. “What kind of incentive?” Asked Billy.

Their mother folded her arms over her chest, squaring her shoulders. “They took one of ours? We’re going to take one of theirs. We’ll interrogate ‘em while we’re at it, try to get some answers as to what really happened to Trevor.”

They were hunters. And Patricia the best of the best. It would be easy to get back at the Abbott pack. They just had to find the most vulnerable member.

There were plenty to choose from. Between the little ones in your own family, and Amy on Rhett’s side, any number of those pups would be a good target. But Patricia Tillerson had done her research.

It was Rhett’s portion of land they were after. And Rhett just so happened to have a mate. What better way to find his ultimate weakness than to steal the one he loved above all others?

So, she instructed her boys to stake out the property. To track yours and Rhett’s whereabouts so they could discreetly step in and carry out their intended mission without him intervening. Because they knew, if he caught them, he would not let them go without a fight. And it was very likely that they would have to put him down if he came at them.

How fortuitous it was that the very next day after they began their stakeout, you left the property to head into town, without Rhett. The only other person you had in tow was Amy, and she wasn’t a threat whatsoever.

Luke shared a look with Billy. “Guess that’s our chance,” he remarked, and his younger brother nodded in agreement.

So they followed you into town, sure to stay a good distance back so you didn’t suspect anything right off the bat.

In the cab of Rhett’s truck, you and Amy were entirely unaware of the impending danger. You had a few errands to run in town, and Amy was always up for going on excursions with you. Although she had packmates her own age now, she had spent her whole life surrounded by adults, and had essentially been raised by her grandparents and Uncle Rhett, so it was a little difficult for her to integrate herself in with kids her own age. Even if those kids were also wolves like her.

Besides, she’d had to grow up fast because of what had happened with losing her mother. Your heart ached for the part of her childhood that she’d lost, but she seemed to have adapted okay. Even so, you always made sure to include her whenever you had plans by yourself. She was always eager to spend time with you because she loved you for the way you loved her Uncle Rhett.

“I’ve never seen him smile so much,” she’d told you, early on in your relationship with Rhett. “You make him so happy. I’m glad he found you.”

And from then on, a bond was formed between you and the little blonde girl. She didn’t have a mother, and it made your heart ache. So, in a way, you took on that role. You couldn’t fully raise her in the way her mother would, but you reached out to her and spent time with her as much as possible, in hopes of providing some sort of nurturing.

And now there was a new baby on the way, and Amy was teeming with excitement at the prospect of welcoming a little cousin. You could tell she was going to be a big help to you once the baby finally came. She was already asking to babysit, when she got a little older, of course.

Today, you were doing a little shopping to pick up some groceries for Cecilia for the family dinner that you were all having that night, and to buy odds and ends for the baby’s nursery. Amy was just bouncing with eagerness to help you pick things out. You also planned to take her out to lunch at the little diner in town, and you were going to try out the brand new cafe that had just opened. Wabang had little to no coffee shops at all, so a new one was the talk of the town.

Amy didn’t drink coffee yet, even though Uncle Rhett once let her try some of the black coffee he always drank. She said it tasted like dirt water, and it turned her against coffee altogether. Instead, she was looking forward to having a strawberry banana smoothie as a treat to drink on the way home.

Little did you know that you’d never make it home that day.

You set about your errands without a care in the world, listening to Amy rattle off facts and highlights about the book she’d been reading lately. She talked your ear off, but you were perfectly happy to listen.

You were unaware of the eyes watching you as you eventually crossed the street to stop at the butcher’s shop. Or when you finally ended the day by stopping at Half Moon Coffee.

You didn’t notice anything until you were finally back on the road, headed for home. And this time, Luke didn’t bother trying to be inconspicuous. He followed you closely, and when you glanced in your rearview, you realized who was in that shiny new F150.

Your stomach dropped, and you let your eyes flicker back to the road. Without saying a word to alarm Amy, you pressed the gas down, speeding up. Luke sped up as well. Your heart quickened in your chest. A feeling of ice cold dread settled in your gut, spreading throughout your extremities.

“What’s wrong?” Amy asked beside you. She could sense your discomfort and hear your pounding heart. Although she had not yet developed the ability to shift into her wolf, her heightened senses had begun coming in clear and sharp. She picked up on things a lot quicker than she used to.

“Nothing,” you lied.

“Are you sure? You’re scared.”

You knew you couldn’t lie to her. You glanced at her from the corner of your eye. “We’re being followed. I want you to grab my phone and call Uncle Rhett, okay?”

You knew Rhett would be able to sense that you were in danger. That was how it worked with mates. But you wanted Amy to call him so he was immediately aware of the situation and knew exactly where to find you. However, she never got the chance to call him, because in a split second, your assailant sped up, shot around you, and then, several feet ahead of you, slammed on his brakes.

You shrieked in surprise, jamming your foot down onto your own brake. Amy let out a yelp, and your phone flew out of her hands and onto the floorboards. Instinctively, your arm shot out in front of her, protecting her from going forward.

As you skidded to a stop, narrowly avoiding colliding with the other truck, your first thought was to back up and go the way you’d come. If you got close enough to town you might be able to ask for help. But something told you that it wasn’t going to be that easy. Even so, you tried it anyway, throwing the truck in reverse and frantically turning the wheel. You almost had it, too. If it wasn’t for Billy jumping out of the Ford and easily firing two arrows from a crossbow into the tires.

You heard the hissing before you realized what it was. Then the truck shuddered, and you realized the tires were going flat. “No!” You cried. You hit the brakes again, and soon, the truck slid to a rough, jarring halt. You could see the brothers quickly approaching through your side view mirror.

“What do they want?!” Amy cried, trembling with fear beside you.

You knew you had to protect her. So you turned to her, eyes locked into hers. “Get down on the floor. Stay in this truck and do not get out. See if you can call Uncle Rhett. I-I’ll get out and talk to them.”

But you never got the chance. Suddenly, your door was yanked open, and you gasped in surprise, coming face to face with Luke.

“Get out of the truck,” he said.

“Please, this isn’t–”

Billy lifted the crossbow, pointing it right at you. “Get out!”

With trembling hands, you fumbled to unbuckle your seatbelt, chest tight with fear as you scrambled out of the truck. Behind you, you could hear Amy crying, scared out of her mind.

“No!” She wailed, grabbing onto your arm in a futile attempt to keep you from going with them.

“Amy, baby, let go of me!” You exclaimed, afraid they’d hurt her if she didn’t settle. But when you glanced back at her, you saw a wildness in her eyes. She’d already lost her mother, she was terrified of losing you, too.

But in the blink of an eye, you were hauled out of the truck, kicking and screaming. Luke was strong, but you were a wolf, and you were stronger than him. It wasn’t that difficult to pull yourself out of his grasp, and you growled threateningly, whirling around to face both men, daring them to come closer.

But one had a crossbow fitted with silver arrows. You could tell by the way they glinted in the sun. If Billy shot you with one of them, it would not end well. Silver was was like poison for werewolves. And you thought of the babe inside you, and how it might harm her. You didn’t want to risk getting shot.

But it was still your instinct to fight. “What do you want with me?!” You cried, baring your fangs, your eyes flashing gold.

But both of them grabbed you at once, wrestling you against the side of the truck, even as you snarled and snapped and struggled. You managed to catch Luke by the face with your claws and leave a considerable slash in his cheek, at which he growled in pain. But it only angered him and his adrenaline made him even stronger.

Amidst the scuffle, you felt something sharp against the side of your neck, like a pinprick, and then, a thick, metallic collar was fastened crudely around your throat just as your body began to betray you.

You gasped, and suddenly, you had no control of your limbs. Your brain screamed at you to fight, to flee, to preserve yourself. But you couldn’t move. Before you even realized, you were plummeting toward the ground, and your vision swam with black spots until, finally, you succumbed to unconsciousness entirely.

Billy looked at Luke as they stood over your crumpled form. “What should we do about the kid? Wanna take her with us too?” Billy asked.

Luke sighed, reaching into his back pocket to grab a handkerchief to dab at the wound on his cheek. “Ma wouldn’t want us just to leave her. I’ll grab her, she could be useful. You get this one into the truck,” he motioned toward you before he sauntered around to the passenger side of your GMC.

However, when he opened the door, expecting to find a distraught Amy, he came up with nothing. The cab was empty, and Amy was nowhere to be found.

“What the fuck?” Luke whispered to himself. “Goddammit!”

Where on earth could she have gone? All that surrounded the was open plains. In the amount of time it took to get you down, there was no way she could’ve found a hiding place that quickly.

Hurriedly, Luke ducked to check beneath the truck, and the truck bed, only to come up empty-handed. He cursed again, kicking at one of the slashed tires.

“She’s gone!” He exclaimed to his brother.

Billy’s eyes went wide. “How?!” He asked as he shoved the bed cover closed on the F150, effectively covering up the fact that you were currently laying inside it.

“I don’t know! I thought they couldn’t shift that young but maybe she did and that’s how she got the slip. I guess it’s not that big of a deal, but Ma will still be pissed we let her get away.”

Billy shrugged it off. “Whatever. We don’t even have to tell her the kid got away since she doesn’t know she was here to begin with. ‘sides, Rhett’s mate was who we were after anyway. We got what we came for. Let’s go.”

And so, the Tillerson boys climbed back into their truck and headed off toward their ranch, your unconscious body hidden in the back.

Meanwhile, in that old, rickety GMC, a furry little wolf pup was just squeezing out from under the front seat, where she’d hidden herself from the view of the hunters. She crept toward the door, where she stuck her head out and sniffed at the air. She smelled the remnants of gasoline and exhaust, and she whimpered.

Amy wasn’t sure how she’d ended up in this predicament. One moment, she was watching in terror as you were ripped away from her, and the next, she was shrinking, and when she looked down, her hands were little black paws.

Driven by her fear, she managed to wedge herself beneath the bench and hide there until the Tillersons left. Now, she had no idea how to shift back to human, but she knew she had to get help. So she launched herself onto the dusty ground, and took off in the direction of home.

Meanwhile, at the Abbott ranch, things were in upheaval.

Rhett had been out with his father and brother, searching for a lost steer that had somehow gotten away from the herd. Rhett claimed a coyote probably got to it. Royal insisted the animal was simply lost.

Halfway out into the south pasture, Rhett was hit with a sudden shock of anxiety, as if someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water on him.

“Whoa,” he gently spoke to his mare Esmeralda, tugging on her reins to bring her to a stop. He gasped sharply as, all at once, this horrible, consuming wave of dread began spreading within his chest.

“No,” he croaked, and just like that, his entire world began to spin off its axis. He clutched at his chest as his heart began to pound. It felt almost like a heart attack, except he knew it was nothing of the sort.

You were in danger.

“Somethin’s wrong!” He desperately shouted ahead to Royal and Perry. He hardly recognized his own voice. It was a guttural, anguished cry.

He urged Esmeralda into a gallop, hurtling toward the other two men. “Gotta go back!” Rhett cried. He spoke your and Amy’s names, and that immediately got their attention. Together, the three of them set off for the house, with Rhett urging Esmeralda as fast as she could go.

As soon as he made it to the house, he eased the horse to a stop and, quick as lightning, jumped to the ground. Although he had the ability to sense when you were in danger, that ability did not allow him to pinpoint your exact location. He had to follow you by sense alone, and the closer he got to you, the stronger that terrible ache in his chest would get, letting him know he was on the right track to find you.

He’d never felt this before. Not to this magnitude. He had always been told that it was an intense feeling, indescribable in every sense. And it was. It was the strongest sensation he’d ever felt. Like his heart was outside of his body, pulling him toward you.

The second his feet hit the ground, he was running, sprinting into the house in search of Royal’s truck keys. He startled his mother, who was in the kitchen making preparations for the dinner that night.

“Goodness gracious, what’s happened?!” She asked her son. He shouted over his shoulder that you and Amy were in danger, and Cecilia gasped, her heart dropping at the thought of her granddaughter and daughter-in-law being harmed.

Keys in hand, Rhett threw himself toward the old Ford Ranger, flinging open the door, ignoring the voices of his family members shouting after him. His vision was tunneled. The only thing that mattered was getting to you. He was just about to turn and tell Cecilia to inform your parents of what was happening, but then, altogether, he froze.

A chill ran down his spine, and he sucked in a ragged breath. “No,” he wheezed. “No, no, no.”

“I-I can’t feel her,” he whispered. He wrenched the truck door back open, and he locked eyes with his mother, who was waiting concernedly nearby. His knees nearly buckled as his feet hit the ground. He stumbled forward, and Cecilia caught him. “Mama, I can’t…I can’t feel her!”

“What do you mean you can’t feel her?” She asked her son. But she knew.

“She’s…she’s just gone! I can’t…I don’t…” Rhett could hardly speak. His throat felt like it was constricting, cutting off his airflow. A harrowing sense of dread washed over him. He knew what this meant. All of them did. If a werewolf could no longer feel its mate’s presence, it could only mean one thing.

That mate was dead.

And that realization drove Rhett to his knees. Cecilia caught him so he wouldn’t hit the ground hard. He clutched at his mother’s shirt, his face buried against her abdomen, and he wailed out his pain, the agony of which was too great for him to bear.

Perry was demanding something above him. Shouting about finding Amy. But Rhett couldn’t hear him. He was deafened by the rush of blood in his ears. Deafened by the ringing sound. He thought of you, and the baby you carried, and he wept.

Just like that, in the blink of an eye, he’d lost everything.

To be continued…

tagging: (a mix of those already on my taglist/those who were tagged in the first part)

@cdauni @gothamrots @happyrebelruins @bobfloydsbabe @myfandomchangesalot @mikpieboo @petersunderoos96 @eighthwvnder @yanna-banana @bradshawsbaby @bradshawsbitch @sebsxphia @rhettabbotts @milesmillergf @briseisgone @laluneveillesureux @gohnspants @hangmanapologist @wkndwlff @damrlova @withahappyrefrain @michaego @whisperofsong @kmc1989

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#rhett abbot x reader #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott fic #werewolf rhett #the wolf series

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crazyunsexycool · 4 months

Text

Unbreakable

Chapter 7

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: Fluff, drunk reader, she's flirty when she's drunk

A/N: It's happening guys... We are moving forward with this story. Slowly I'll start doing bits of time jumps here and there!!! Also this chapter is a bit all over the space.

Series Masterlist

“You’re sure you want to go out for this girl’s night?” Nat asked from your living room.

“Yes. I want drinks and karaoke.”

You walk out of your bedroom as you finish putting on an earring. Your outfit was simple, jeans, a t-shirt and a leather jacket.

“Fine by me. Are you a lightweight?”

“Probably. I’ve never had more than one drink.”

“So we get to test the limits?” Nat smirks at you.

“Yes. I’m very excited. Is Nebula not coming?”

“She’ll meet us there.” Nat gets up and heads for the door.

“Ok, c’mon Marvin. Let’s go have a good time.”

****

Nebula was waiting outside of what looked like an abandoned building. Inside though fairy lights lined the ceiling, a spotlight was aimed at a corner where a tv, a mic stand and a very crappy stage took up space. The place wasn’t too crowded, which was perfect. The bar itself sat in the middle of the room in an oval shape creating two almost completely separate spaces.

“No dogs allowed.” A bartender yells over a drunk guy's horrible rendition of Thriller.

“He’s a service dog.”

The guy eyes you for a moment and you have Marvin turn to the side to show off his vest.

“Fine but we aren’t responsible if something happens to him and if he ruins anything it’s coming outta your pocket.”

“I promise he’ll be in his best behavior.” You smile and walk toward the karaoke side of the bar with Nat and Nebula.

Nebula’s black eyes scanned the room more than once. She and Nat sat with their backs to the wall and observed the others.

“This place looks ridiculous.” Nebula mutters.

“Don’t worry, we’re going to be so entertained that you won’t really notice it. Y/N here has never gotten drunk before.”

“Really? I bet she’ll get drunk on two drinks.”

“I’ll take that bet.” Nat says. “What do I get when she’s drunk by the first one.”

“I’ll give you my gun.” Nebula offers. “But I want your bracers, the electric ones.”

“Deal.”

“You know I’m sitting right here, right?”

Nebula waves you off dismissively while Nat gets up and orders the first round.

****

It took two drinks to loosen you up and one more to get you to get up on stage to sing Girls just wanna have fun. Nebula seemed to not really be affected by any drink and Nat was surprisingly on the verge of being drunk. It took another drink to get you back on stage. You had all of the people at the bar singing along to bohemian rhapsody.

🎶 “So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?

So you think you can love me and leave me to die?

Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby

Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here

Ooh

Ooh, yeah, ooh, yeah

Nothing really matters, anyone can see

Nothing really matters

Nothing really matters to me.”🎶

You sang your heart out. Although some words were a little slurred. What you weren’t aware of was Steve leaning against the bar, completely amused by your carefree attitude.

“Romanoff.”

“Rogers.” Nat shoots back. “Thanks for coming to pick us up.”

“It’s no problem. I see she’s having fun.”

“Definitely. You know what’s funny, she hasn’t stopped talking about you at all.”

Steve flushes pink immediately but before he can say anything you head in his direction. With wide and hazy eyes you look up at him.

“Steve? What are you doing here? It’s supposed to be girl’s night.”

“I’m sorry, did I ruin it?”

“No, don't be silly.” You giggle and bat your eyelashes. Nat rolls her eyes but smiles at your drunken flirting.

“He didn’t just show up.” Nat offers. “I called him to be our designated driver.”

“Oh, makes sense. You’re so smart Natty.”

Nat shakes her head and turns to the bartender to pay the tab while Nebula walks out.

“Can we get mozzarella sticks before we go home?”

“Sure.”

****

You were sitting in a small pizza place a block down from the bar. Even Marvin got to snack on some chicken while you munched on your late night snack. Nat and Nebula had called it a night and decided to go back to the compound.

“So how was girl’s night?” Steve asked next to you.

“Oh it was so much fun. You should totally come next time.”

“If I did, it wouldn’t be a girl’s night.”

“You’re right.” You shrug. “But we made an exception for Marv.”

“So I have the same privileges as a dog?” Steve laughs when you look at him with wide eyed horror.

“What? No. Don’t be silly. You won’t have to sit under a table.” You snort a laugh and then get very serious. “I need to ask you something but you need to be honest.”

“Ok, what’s your question?”

You turn to give him your full attention. His bright blue eyes shine with amusement and they captivate you.

“You’re so pretty.” You blurt out. Steve huffs a laugh but his cheeks are tinted pink.

“Thank you. That isn’t a question though.”

“Why are you single?”

“Oh, so we’re going for loaded questions.”

“I mean you’re so nice and caring and fun to be around. I always feel safe with you. Did I mention that you’re so pretty? Also you have a killer smile.”

“I do?”

“For sure. Every time you smile at me I just get weak in the knees.”

“Your smile makes my knees go weak too.” Steve says back.

“Nope.” You take a bite from a mozzarella stick. “Can’t use my own compliment on me.”

Steve chuckles and shakes his head. You wait patiently for him to say something.

“Ok well, you have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. I could get lost in them if you’d let me.”

You give a little giggle and send a wink his way.

“I’m also so happy that our paths crossed and we met each other.” Steve sent a shy smile your way and you mirrored it.

Your little bubble burst when Marvin gave a little huff, indicating that he needed to go outside. Steve helped clean off the table and offered you his arm as you walked Marvin. Then he walked you to his car and opened the door for you and Marvin to get in.

You groan as you turn in bed. Your head was throbbing and your mouth was so dry. With an annoyed huff you open an eye to look around. At least you were home. You spot the water bottle and pills on the nightstand and you take them, drinking half of the water in one go. There’s a small knock at the door which might as well be jackhammers on your head.

“Come in.” You murmur and the door opens.

Steve stands in the doorway with a tray of food. He tries to hold back his laugh when you groan again and try to hide under the covers.

“Good morning.”

“Shhh. My head is killing me.”

“You’ll survive, you’re just hung over. Why don’t you try to have breakfast?” He says as he walks over to you. Marvin is right behind him and he jumps on the bed.

“I think I’ll throw up if I do.”

“I think you’ll be ok. Besides, it'll help settle your stomach.”

“If you say so.” You grumble but sit up. Steve sets the tray he was holding on your lap and sits on the edge of the bed.

“Start with the toast.”

You do as he suggests and nibble on the toast. Steve talks in a low but soothing voice until he gets you smiling again. Once you’re done with breakfast you lay back down, this time Steve sits against the headboard.

“I had this really weird dream last night.” You tell him.

“Yeah? What was it about?”

“We were eating mozzarella sticks and I told you that you were really pretty.”

Steve laughs but looks down at you fondly. He’s met with brows that are furrowed in confusion. Then realization hits you like a truck and your eyes go wide.

“That wasn’t a dream was it?” You whisper.

Steve throws his head back laughing. “No it wasn’t. You’re a bit of a flirt when you’re drunk.” He says once he calms down. “It’s cute though.”

You groan and hide under your blanket. He chuckles some more.

“In my defense I’ve never been drunk before.” You say from under the blanket before pulling it down and looking up at Steve. “And for the record I stand behind everything I said.”

You smirk as Steve’s cheeks turn pink. The color traveling up to his ears. It was cute, he was cute.

“Do you have any plans today?” He asked after a few seconds.

“Nope. Other than walking Marv.”

“Good. Want to have a movie marathon?”

“That sounds like a great idea. We still have a bunch of movies on the list. Or we could start binge watching some of the tv shows we have on the list too.”

“I’ll let you choose.”

You smile before getting up and heading to the bathroom.

An episode of some trash reality tv was playing on in the background but you and Steve had stopped paying attention to it. Instead you were having a conversation. It was mostly talking about nothing serious. Steve was completely turned toward you with an arm laying on your top of the back of the couch. You mirrored his posture and unconsciously you both reached out for each other’s hand. Between smiles and jokes you were having a good time. This is what you liked to do the most with Steve.

From what he and Nat had told you their life consisted of being on the move at all times, especially the two years before the blip. So you didn’t mind staying home and watching tv or playing a few board games, it’s not like you would have really been out.

“I need to ask you something.” Steve said as he intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Ok?”

“Well first I want to say that I’d understand if you didn’t want to and it wouldn’t change my mind about our friendship.”

You frowned in confusion as you waited for him to ask what he was going to ask.

“I like you. I think you know that. I like you as more than just a friend and I wanted to know if you would like to go out with me?”

“Like a date?” You whispered. It wasn’t really a surprise but you hadn’t expected it now. You still wanted to tell him about what you had gone through. So that he could understand your hesitation about certain things and that it wasn’t him, as cliche as that sounded. But you also really liked Steve. Since the very beginning, it’s why you didn’t want to run into him again but now you were glad it happened.

“Yes, like a date.” He smiled but there was a flicker of fear of being rejected in his eyes.

“I’d love to.”

His smile brightened and he gave your hand a quick squeeze.

“You really don’t have to if you’re not sure. I would never want to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

You smiled at him then. It was things like that that made you like him more and more each time.

“I do want to, really. It’s just… What happened with my ex really messed me up. I never thought that I would want to trust anyone else let alone date them. But then I met you.”

Steve smiled softly then. His whole demeanor was calm and easy going. It gave you the push to keep going.

“I just want you to know that I want to do this with you but sometimes I’ll have my reservations. It’s not a reflection on you, it's just my fears because of what I went through.”

“I understand and we can take this as slow as you want. You set the pace and I’ll follow. There’s no rush, I just want to be with you in whatever way you’ll let me.”

It was your turn to squeeze his hand as a wave of emotion hit you. Fear was definitely there but so was hope and surprisingly enough excitement. You had to wonder if Steve was this attentive and caring as a friend, what would he be like as a partner?

“Oh my God it’s happening.” You said in a rush as you got to the table Lisa was sitting at. She jumped slightly at your voice and looked at you in confusion.

“What’s happening?”

You take a deep breath. It had only been the night before that Steve had asked you out but you were still all over the place with your emotions.

“I’m going on a date.”

“That’s wonderful.” Lisa smiled and placed her hand on yours. “Tell me everything.”

“You remember my friend Steve right?”

“Yeah, the ex-military guy that was teaching you self defense?”

Lisa still didn’t know that it wasn’t just some military guy but Captain America himself. You nod in response to her question and then tell her what happened the night before. It was easy to talk to her and you explained your mixed feelings but she was right there supporting and encouraging you to take the next step.

“I did say yes. I’ve never felt like this with anyone else before you know.”

“I do.” Lisa nods but you notice that her eyes aren’t on you so you turn.

Walking up to your table was a beautiful, curvy red haired woman. She smiled and at first you thought it was directed at you but then you realized that smile was for Lisa.

“Y/N I hope you don’t mind but I asked my girlfriend to join us. I just wanted the two of you to meet.”

“No it’s ok.” You smile and turn. “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.” You hold your hand out and she takes it.

“The pleasure is all mine. I’m Cassie. It’s nice to put a name to the face, Lisa mentions you all the time.”

“All bad I hope.”

She chuckles and shakes her head.

“I’ve heard about Marvin too.” Cassie looks under the table to find Marvin sitting patiently. “He’s so cute.”

“Thanks, he’s the best boy.”

“Well babe you’re just in time because Y/N here just told me she got herself a date.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“I was telling Lisa that I was still nervous. After everything that happened last time, I didn’t think I’d find someone that I would even consider dating.”

“I imagine it can’t be easy to trust someone again. Lisa told me where you met but she didn’t tell me about what happened to you.” She reassured you. “I can only say to trust your gut. If at any moment you feel unsafe you call us.”

“Thanks.”

“So, now the other reason I wanted to meet today.” Lisa announces and she places an envelope on the table next to you. “Go ahead, open it.”

“No way.” You say a bit too loudly, getting the attention of a few patrons. In your hand was a wedding invitation with Lisa and Cassie’s name on it. “This is amazing, congratulations.” You looked up at them and stood to give each of them a hug.

“When did you get engaged?”

“A few weeks ago but we didn’t tell anyone until we decided on a wedding date.”

“Do you have engagement rings?”

They both held their left hands out and you gasped at the beautiful matching gold and diamond rings on their fingers.

“We proposed to each other on our anniversary.” Cassie says with a fond smile.

“That is so cute.”

You ask them a few questions about the planning and if they were going to wear traditional dresses. The conversation went on for a while.

“We should get going but,” Lisa said as you all stepped out of the restaurant you’d met at. “Make sure you RSVP to the wedding and you’re getting a special plus two.”

“Plus two?”

“Marvin of course and maybe a certain someone could be your date.” She wiggled her brows at you.

“We’ll see after the first date.”

“Well don’t wait too long to let us know.”

“I won’t.” You said your goodbyes, watching as Lisa and Cassie walked away hand in hand.

In that moment you realized that you wanted that. Not only did you want to love and be loved but you wanted a relationship with Steve. With a small smile on your lips you headed towards some clothing stores to find something nice to wear.

The buzzer went off. You knew it was Steve but this time it was different because he was here to pick you up for your date. After letting him in you took one final look at yourself in the mirror. It was getting colder out now so you went for style and comfort. You’d chosen to wear a cream colored sweater, a suede mini skirt and boots.

There’s a knock on your door and you give yourself a little pep talk as you go to open it. Steve is standing there with beautiful flowers in his hand. He has on a navy blue henley that makes his eyes pop more and dark jeans. You give each other an appreciative glance.

“You look beautiful.” He finally says.

Heat creeps into your cheeks as you smile.

“Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself.”

Steve huffs out a little shy chuckle as he blushes slightly. His eyes go to the bouquet in his hands and he holds it out for you to take. You were both flustered and that realization eased you a bit. Just knowing he was just as nervous as you were. You thank him again and grab the flowers before quickly finding a vase. Then you grab Marvin’s leash and your jacket before leaving.

“So where are we going?” You ask as Steve opens the door of his car for you.

“You’ll see.”

****

You were surprised when Steve parked by a museum. He moves around his car quickly and opens the door for you and then Marvin. As you start walking toward the entrance he offers you his arm which you take.

Steve takes you past some of the displays and straight to the back of the building. You smile when you see the entrance of the planetarium. Steve went up to the employee and showed them the tickets before both of you went to find your seats.

****

The planetarium was practically empty except for another couple and a small group of friends. Steve had chosen some seats that kept you relatively separate from them though. As the show progressed Steve would lean in and tell you what he saw when he went to space for the first time. It was definitely much more interesting than what was being said.

Once the original show ended you left the planetarium but decided to look around the museum. You stopped at every few displays and shared your opinions. When the art was good it was good but when the art left something to be desired Steve couldn’t help but criticize the pieces. As if it was personally offending him. You laughed every time his face scrunched in disapproval at prices he didn’t like.

“Ok,” you said between sips of your drink. After the museum Steve had taken you to a Thai restaurant. It was the same as the first meal you shared. “What was your favorite subject in school?”

“Art.”

“Really? Why is that?”

Steve shrugs. “I was invisible in school. I was angry that no one would even look my way unless they wanted to bully me. Art was a way to get my emotions out. Drawing was like therapy for me. Then I just fell in love with it.”

“Do you still draw?”

“Yeah.” Steve smiles.

“And do you ever share your work with anyone?”

“Are you asking to see my drawings?”

You shrug. “Maybe.”

“I have a few I can show you.”

You smiled at him then.

“Your turn, if you could have any superpower what would it be?”

“Easy,” you smile. “Teleportation. Imagine all the money and time I could save just by being able to teleport anywhere. Also it would be so much easier to plan vacations.”

“That is a good choice.”

“Well you are the expert on super things, so I would hope so.”

Steve smiles. “Are you ready to get out of here?”

“Yup.”

“Alright let’s go.” He replies, he doesn’t even let you pay for half of the meal or anything. Reminding you that it’s a date and he invited.

After dinner though you aren’t ready to go home. In order to prolong your time together you suggest a walk through the park for Marvin’s benefit. This time as you walk though you feel bold enough and take Steve’s hand. You see the slight blush on his cheeks before he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. The conversation picks up where you left it back at the restaurant and you ask each other very random questions. It’s fun to see him relaxed and be able to have a sort of nonsense conversation. Not even at the beginning of your relationship with your ex had you felt so at ease with someone.

“Have you ever been arrested?”

Steve laughs but tries to hide his face from you.

“You have? No way. What did you get arrested for?”

“It was back in the 30s. There was this guy that kept harassing this group of girls. I just happened to walk by when one of the girls burst out crying because she was so uncomfortable. I asked him to stop but he didn't. Then he threw a punch. It was in a park so there were cops nearby. They came to break us up and I got arrested for disorderly conduct.”

“Please tell me there is a mug shot out there somewhere.”

Steve laughs but shakes his head.

“I don’t think there is. If there were, I'm sure Shield took it to make sure my image was safe.”

“Damn.” You give a small pout. “I would’ve loved to see that.”

“No way. I’m sure you would have framed it.”

“Yup.” You laugh. “I would’ve enlarged it and hung it up in the living room.”

Steve chuckles and shakes his head as you continue the walk around the park.

The night unfortunately came to an end. Although from the park to the car ride back home Steve hadn’t let go of your hand. That was a good sign, right? You stood outside of your apartment door. Marvin pushed his way in once you had unlocked it, leaving you and Steve alone.

“Thank you for tonight, I had a lot of fun.” You smile up at him.

“Me too. So what’s the verdict? Would you like to go out again, on a second date?”

“I’d like that.”

Steve breathed a sigh of relief as he nodded.

“Have a good night.” He says and smiles before he turns to leave.

You catch his hand before he’s able to turn completely. Standing on your toes you give Steve a quick kiss on his cheek. He flushes pink but his eyes are on your lips. You watch him lick his lower lip. The tension grows between you the longer you stand there so close together.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please.” you reply almost breathless in anticipation.

Steve turns back to you completely. His hands frame your face and he slowly dips his head. Steve’s lips are so close to yours, you can feel his breath on your face. You anxiously wait to finally feel his lips on yours but when you look at him you find him studying your face.

“You are so beautiful.” He whispers. “Are you sure?”

The fact that he’s asking again makes you want to cry happy tears. You nod, placing your hands on his chest and tilting your head up to close the distance. Steve’s lips are soft. His kiss is gentle and sweet. There is no urgency but there is desire and passion behind it. Before you’re able to fully enjoy the kiss Steve is pulling back just enough to look at you. You give each other goofy little grins before Steve gives you another quick peck.

“Now it’s a good night.” You say and his smile widens.

“See you soon?”

“Definitely.”

Steve pulls away. The smile that you love seems to be etched on his face permanently as he turns and leaves. You miss him already but you know that you’ll see him again soon. With the night coming to a close you lock your door and lean your back against it. You bite your bottom lip to try and stop yourself from smiling but you can’t help it.

Deep down you knew that Steve was it. This new development in your relationship was just the start and you couldn’t wait to see where it went.

Ch 8