Spent An Hour Making These Instead Of Writing

spent an hour making these instead of writing

Safe Place

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: What starts as a night off alone escalates into some trouble in town. Luckily, when you’re employed by one of the fiercest warriors in the galaxy, backup is never too far away.

Tags/Warnings: category is- MUTUAL PINING[!!] they just don’t know it. mostly comfort/fluff. some violence in the beginning + 1 minor injury. mentions of alcohol and spice (cannabis) use. Reader is fadeddd most of the plot lmao. Protective/Soft Din 🥰 mentions of Force-sensitive Reader. also no Grogu today, it’s past his bedtime :(

Word Count: 8.6k

a/n: not me posting this on the cusp of season 3 finally premiering 💀 also this was supposed to be shorter but honestly, this thing got so out of hand so fast, idek why it drags on for as long as it does. but i was inspired by this very stoned prompt i thought of months ago with my favorite tin can babygirl and decided to finally finish it so. here we go. ✨

ps: i’m still trying out the 3rd person pov thing so lemme know if you hate it or not. also to settle any confusion amid the new szn, this takes place between s1 and 2 :)

Translation: Sen’ika = little bird

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It’s supposed to be an easy night.

Mando is on a hunt and she’s been left in charge in his absence. Normally she would’ve argued coming along and you know, making herself useful as she’d originally agreed upon. But the Crest could only land so close and the additional foot travel was too long and treacherous for the Child to follow along. Plus Red trusted her enough to leave her alone with his foundling without making off with his ship and she had no other choice but to agree.

A few days had passed now since he’d departed. He estimated he’d return in about a week, so she was in no rush in waiting for him. Mando had settled them on the outskirts of town, far enough where they could lay low in peace but still close enough for her to make any emergency supply runs in town. She was left with everything she needed to care for the kid. And with specific instructions not to leave the Crest unless it was absolutely necessary.

Which is exactly what she’d decided to categorize this as.

The pair of double doors leading into the local cantina burst open and she stumbles back out into the streets, giggling to herself as she cradles a pair of warm cider bottles to-go in her pouch. She hadn’t planned on lingering at the bar but three drinks and a pair of shots with a group of local girls later, plans were changed. She was even invited out back to share a round of their spice joint, a generous offer she simply couldn’t refuse. She was now blissfully intoxicated and felt lighter and happier than she’d been in weeks.

The kid had finally settled in earlier and if his recent patterns served her correctly, he’d be down for the rest of the night. She was finally alone, a privilege she found extremely rare these days since joining Mando’s crew, which gave her ample time to wander into town. Was it responsible of her to leave the Crest and the kid alone? Most would argue it wasn’t, Red most of all. But he wasn’t here to say no! Plus, she had locked the ship down to keep the kid inside and protected from any potential stragglers. All goes well, she would be in and out before he woke up.

And she was confident about this because she’d already gone out just last night. Sure, she hadn’t been out this long, but again, Mando wasn’t expected anytime soon.

She liked exploring towns. It gave her a reason to not only scope out her environment, but to familiarize herself with the locals and figure out which spots in town were traveler-friendly. It was easy to wander when she was on her own, but now that she was a full-time employee, it had become somewhat of a rare treat.

It was week’s end for these particular folks, which meant most of them were out in droves tonight. She could still hear the fits of laughter and drunken serenades belting out of the cantina behind her as she walked away. The air was far cooler at night and the refreshing taste of it in her lungs gave her cloudy head the clearance it needed.

She was delightfully drunk and probably just as high, but she was conscious enough to know she needed to get back. Leaving the kid alone for a couple of hours was fine, but stretching it out any longer than that was far too much of a risk. Live music was playing somewhere from around the corner, locals dashing around her as they hopped from one cantina to another.

The energy buzzed around her like an electric current, yet she walked with a familiar ease. She felt oddly safe within the center of town. But as she drifted further into the outskirts, the street lamps dulled and the crowds thinned out. A pair of fraternal moons became her guiding light as she willed herself to remember the path back to the Crest.

And for a while, it was fine. Despite the silence, she couldn’t help but feel a bit more on edge out here alone than when she was surrounded by a bunch of drunk miners. She ignored it though, trying to tell herself it was probably the spice making her antsy. But the farther she walked, the longer her paranoia festered and itched and scratched until she realized it wasn’t the libations talking to her.

It was the Force.

She realized too late she was being followed until just before she was confronted. A Balosar male slinks out from an alleyway behind her, long and slim with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his oversized coat. She wills herself to keep her eyes straight ahead but she could hear him glide over to her side to match her stride.

“Where ya goin’ sugar? The party’s that way!” he drawled, sending an immediate chill up her spine. Shit.

“I know where I’m going,” She doesn’t look at him as she attempts to brush past him. “Have a good night.”

He reacts by slipping around her once more, this time blocking her path directly ahead. “Whoa whoa, take it easy!” His accent is thick and laced in what she can only describe as mock-innocence. “Relaax, nobody’s gettin’ hurt here!”

Her facial expressions remain unmoved, glancing up at him boredly. In reality though, her heart was hammering against her ribcage. The last thing she needed, especially right now, was unwanted attention from anybody, let alone from this total stranger. She moves to step forward but he cuts in her way, a sly grin stretching across his face.

“It’s okay baby,” Her stomach internally caved in at the pet name. “just tryna find where the cool people hang out.”

“Wouldn’t know where to point you to.” she replies flatly, straightening her back. “Excuse me.”

She attempts to move around him again, but his arm comes up to lay on the wall next to her and he leans forward to cave her in. “Where’re you from then? I’ve never seen anyone this pretty so far out here.” His free hand inches towards her face but she’s quick to turn her cheek, her jaw clenching behind her lips.

“And you never will.” she snaps back, already inching backwards.

This only prompts him to step closer, a frown crossing his slimy face. “Ey, you don’t have to be a bitch.” His tone switches almost predictably and her hand slips behind her cloak to reach for her holster.

“Back off.” she snarls him a warning with the coldest glare she can make.

He tries reclosing the gap between them again. “C’monn honey- ”

“NO.” Her fight-or-flight instinct kicks in and she fully pushes her weight on him to shove him down. Her stand off is cut short though when he finds his balance and pushes back. She’s thrown back against the wall and before she can even process it, a pocket knife is jabbed against the skin of her neck.

Shadows move over his shoulder in her peripheral vision and when she follows them, 3 more Balosars creep out of the dark, hovering behind the first one in a sort of half circle around her.

It’s at this moment that she realizes 2 distinct things. Firstly, she doesn’t recognize them. In her 4 or so days since they touched down, she’d observed the villagers in her down time and gathered a very broad consensus of who was who— and in that time, she hadn't seen any Balosars in this town, which told her they were also just passing by. Secondly, she thinks as she watches the other 3 close in, she’s tangled herself in a very complicated web here. It was 4 against 1, with a notable size difference amongst all of them. She couldn’t see straight, was hilariously underprepared for a fight given the company she was currently keeping, she was fucked up and only growing more inebriated as her vices soaked into her bloodstream, and she was alone. No baby, no bar friends, no civilian witnesses.

No Mando.

Fuck.

A strangled little noise escapes her throat when the knife is pinched further into her skin and she curses herself at how whimpered it comes out.

“Fine, since you wanna do this the hard way..” the first Bathosar sneers almost mockingly, his frame towering over her own.

She’s curling into the overcast of her cloak when her fingers finally find the handle of her blaster, skin digging tightly into the cool of the metal. She looks into his eyes and sucks in a deep breath before the tension snaps.

Fuck it.

In an instant, a shot zaps out, aimed directly at his foot. He cries out when it makes contact, and she smashes her blaster across his temple when he folds over in distracted pain, his knife clattering to the ground. Despite her inebriation, she can sense the others jumping into action and she points her gun at the closest one, shooting him right in his chest before he can get any closer. She doesn’t have time to watch his body crumple to the floor as she turns to shoot at the other two, a rapid succession of plasma bolts whizzing out almost desperately. Her second target barely misses her line of fire and as she follows his trail, she fails to block the third Balosar from tackling her into the wall. She cries out as he harshly elbows her wrist to disarm her, the blaster forced out of her hand.

“Grab her!” She hears her attacker hiss from above her before she’s suddenly snatched from behind. Her arms are pinned to her sides as she’s grabbed and lifted several inches off the ground.

Her heart is pounding, blood pumping into her ears as she yells out. Her feet start kicking furiously in an instant, every functional instinct left in her telling her to fight back. “Get off me!” she shrieks, flailing until her boot finally connects with a knee. She hears him yelp behind her, his grip slipping. She jabs her elbow fully into his nose, sending them both tumbling.

Two separate voices are shouting incoherently above her in a blend of confusion and exasperation. She can see her blaster just feet away and she starts crawling, scrambling in a desperate effort to reach it, until she’s yanked backwards by her ankle.

“Pin her down.” she hears one of them growl maliciously from above.

Her stomach turns as she’s dragged back into her assailant’s grip, trails of her fingernails digging into the dirt floor. She feels her brain short-circulating in its panic so she resorts to one last defense tactic.

She starts screaming.

And it’s a shriek that’s piercing and raw and louder than she was planning it to be. But she screams anyway in hopes that anyone within the block can at least hear her, even if it’s another drunken villager on their way home.

“Shut her up!” A second voice hisses hastily, hands scrambling to smother her.

“NO- ” She bites down on the first hand that touches her face and only squeals louder, her pitch jumping another octave in her hysteria. She starts kicking again, nails scrambling in the dirt for a spare rock, a glass shard, anything physical to grab in her defense. When her palms only fill with clumps of dirt and sand, she clenches her fists around them anyway.

What started as a dreamy, whimsical high has quickly soured into a debilitating panic trip. Rather than floating in euphoric bliss, she feels tranquilized, her focus and motor skills severely hindered and overpowered by these 3 much larger adversaries. Her stomach is turning over under her ribs, waves of nausea churning with her rising panic. Her heart is pounding too fast she feels, and her lungs are tightly clenched despite how fast she’s gasping for air.

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until she’s flipped on her back, the welling tears spilling down her temples. Before she can scream again, a balled up handkerchief is forced into her mouth. Two of them meanwhile, are putting their full weight down on her to pin her limbs to the ground. The first one is limping over to them, his knife recovered in his hand while patches of fresh blood trail behind his injured foot. She audibly whimpers now, wriggling in their grasp like a drowning fish.

“You know.. I was gonna let you go after all this,” he starts, turning his blade over in his hand as if to inspect it. “But that was before I believed the rumors.” He pauses here, and the dread is only momentarily overwhelmed by her instinctive curiosity. “I mean- we all knew the bounty’s primary target was a Mandalorian with a green pet- ” Her stomach drops. “ -but there was no mention anywhere about his pretty little accomplice.”

She rustles again as he looms over her. “And I gotta tell ya, I didn’t think it was true at all. I mean, a Mandalorian with a business partner? And a girl at that!?” He almost laughs before he pivots. “But then we sees’ you in town, carryin’ this little guy around, and we think, maybe there’s some truth in all this, ya know?” Her stomach sinks even lower at the realization that they not only spotted her with the kid, but that they’d been watching her this whole time too.

Double fuck.

Suddenly, he’s kneeling in front of her, his injured foot tucked behind his knee, and she’s roughly sat up to face him by the snatch of her hair. “So here’s what’s gonna happen,” She grunts helplessly when his blade is pressed deeper against her neck as the three men crowd around her. “you’re gonna point me in the direction of the gremlin, you’re gonna watch us shoot his kidnapper, and then, and only then, will I finally kill you myself.”

Her brows crease in pain as she tries to pull away from his blade, but the hand twisted in the back of her hair only pushes her into it. The handkerchief is yanked out for her to answer and his head tilts to catch her eyes. “So?” he snaps. “What’s it gonna be? Now or later?”

Her eyes harden, nostrils flaring. Honestly, right now, she just wants to tell him to fuck off. It’s not like this was her first time being mugged and/or threatened, and unfortunately not while inebriated either. But this one felt pretty damn close to getting got. Her brain is already scrambling between scattered half-assed theories on how to get her out of this.

Fw-ip !

A whizzing sound passes under her and it’s so subtle, she almost doesn’t notice it. Then there’s a pause of silence that’s almost too heavy to be coming from nothing before she notices that the first guy’s eyes have blown wide open. They make eye contact and she squints, almost confused.

Suddenly, he’s thrown back and he starts screaming before she realizes he’s being yanked into the shadows by his wounded foot. She can hear the mechanical whizzing again as he’s dragged, even over his friends’ shouting, and it takes another split second for her to realize it’s a whipcord. And just like that, the Force alerts her that she’s not alone again. But instead of dread, something else flutters in her gut.

The Balosar’s screams are cut short by a single blaster shot, and she inhales a gasp of air before a chill crawls up her spine.

Two heavy, familiar boot steps clunk in front of them as its owner steps into the dim lighting.

She exhales and pure euphoria blooms in her chest.

He’s towering over them, broad shoulders stiff and gloved hands clenched into iron fists, his armor gleaming like a beacon even in the cover of night.

She can’t stop the smile that’s spreading across her face. “Mando..-”

“Kill him!” One of the Balosars yanks her back into his chest as his friend scrambles to his feet, blaster already in hand. She squeaks and the sound seems to snap Mando into full action. She’s yanked to her feet as his arm wrangles itself around her neck.

From here though, she can see her Mandalorian in his full glory. She watches him stalking towards his prey, blaster bolts bouncing off his beskar like raindrops as the other guy empties his clip into him. And of course, when that doesn’t work, he headbutts him to stun him before striking. Despite the weight of his armor, Mando moves like a viper and is just as deadly.

She feels herself being dragged away and she grunts in protest, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. It’s then she remembers one hand is still clenched. Without a second thought, she swings backwards, smacking the guy right in the face as she temporarily blinds him with a fistful of dirt.

“Agh- !” He shouts and she slips out his grip. She starts towards Mando, but then she’s grabbed by her hair and is yanked backwards with a cry. “Fuckin’ bitch- !” She hears him snarl before the back of his hand strikes her directly across her cheek.

She drops against the brick wall behind her, his body towering her, but from the corner of her eye, she spots Mando. The second guy is now motionless on the floor and his helmet is fully trained on the last one. And based on the swell of his chest and how hard he’s breathing now, she doesn’t need to gauge anything else; he just saw what he did and he’s furious.

He crosses the space between them and drags him backwards and away from her. The Balosar starts fighting back but he's quickly overpowered as he’s disarmed with an unnatural twist of his wrist. Mando spins him around and lands a punch directly into his face once, twice, thrice and then a final fourth blow before the guy falls to his knees. And it’s there that he goes for the kill, grabbing his head with both gloved hands and snapping his neck with an enraged grunt and a sickening crunch.

She watches the final body crumple to the floor with blown out eyes and her jaw fully dropped. She’s physically shaking, she realizes, and can barely breathe, let alone stand on her own. But when Mando finally turns to her, his chest rising and falling, she clings to the wall behind her to gather herself back up.

“What the hell happened??” Mando’s tone is harsh and agitated, even under his modulated panting. “You weren’t on the ship when I-”

He’s cut off when she runs straight into his arms. She all but collapses into his chest, arms coiled around his neck and her face smothered into his cowl. Before he can even process what’s happening, she pulls back to look up at him. “You’re earlyy!” She’s practically beaming up at him, one of her hands tracing the cheekbone of his helmet.

He’s speechless. First, a hug. And now she’s.. glad to see him? Not to mention how she’s smiling up at him with those big, adoring puppy-dog eyes. She’s never been this nice to him before, not even around the Child. “I- ” he hesitates before clearing his throat. “ -Yes. The target uh, took less time than I thought.”

This only makes her smile wider before she buries herself in him again. This time, her arms slip around his back, her cheek leaning into his chest plate. She could care less about how the edges of his armor were pinching into her skin, or how his fully loaded bandolier was pressed very uncomfortably into her collarbone. All that mattered to her right now, was this. “I’m so happy you’re here.” she all but whimpers, closing her eyes to savor the coolness of his beskar and the familiar scent of metal and gun smoke.

Now Mando was really stunned. But he can also feel the physical tremble in her muscles and the speed of her pulse, so he relents with a long sigh before a single arm drapes around her back. “Are you okay?” he asks, his tone much softer this time.

She nods into his chest before pulling away again. “Y-Yeah I just- ” she takes a deep breath and lets out a shaky exhale. “ -that was.. too close..”

“What happened?” He decides to ask again. “Are you hurt?” His hands quickly pat her down as if checking her for any other injuries before one of them comes up to gently cup her chin. He carefully tilts her face to get a better view of her red cheek and it doesn’t go unnoticed when she refuses to make eye contact. His helmet tilts ever so slightly. “Sen’ika..”

Her lips press together and her brows furrow as she flinches. “Well..”

“Did they kidnap you?” He asks, his other hand gesturing towards the 3 bodies behind him.

This makes her head snap back up. “No! No, they had no idea where I was staying. They were just trying to follow me back t..” she trails off the moment her brain catches up to her lips, and now that she’s face-to-face with him, she can practically feel Mando’s visor burning a hole into her forehead.

The pause between them stretches out uncomfortably before he finally speaks. “Where did you go?” His voice makes her insides squirm, like a teenager getting caught out after curfew.

“Uh..” She starts and suddenly she’s become hyper-aware of how hot her face is. She can’t remember the last time he was this close to her, and the realization of this somehow makes her self-conscious. She’s also still remarkably faded, too faded in fact to fake any semblance of sobriety. And if he’s already here, there’s really no point in lying to him, he’s way too smart for that. “..the bar.” she finally finishes meekly.

His shoulders slump as he exhales. “You got drunk?” he asks incredulously.

Her face brightens in embarrassment. “Okay, look- ” she starts and she can practically hear him groan under his helmet as he looks up to the sky. “-to be fair, I only went after the kid passed out, cause I knew he wouldn’t wake up.”

When she looks up, his helmet only tilts to the side, a silent move that only prompts her to keep going. “Ok, so there’s this pattern I’ve noticed, so when you give him a full meal and a glass of warm milk, and then you just let him play with his toys and get him to make them float around the room, after a certain time, he’ll get super tired and, like, fully sleep through the night. And I know that sounds like the most basic excuse in the book but I swear I tested this three nights in a row and it worked every time, okay so I wasn’t being totally stupid..”

She doesn’t realize how long she’s been rambling until she glances up again. He’s now leaned in closer to her, and for a moment she thinks he’s examining her cheek again. What she doesn’t realize is how carefully he’s looking into her eyes. He can tell she’s been drinking by now, and despite the trauma of the attempted assault on her just now, her eyes are still way too bloodshot to just be the liquor. Not to mention the hint of another smell on her..

She inhales sharply through her nose when she feels his gloved hands slip over her own. She gazes into his visor, as if straining to look for a pair of eyes behind it and leans in ever so slightly. She’s never been as curious to see what his expression looks like as she is right now. Her face softens as she stares up at him. “Mando..?” Her voice is just above a whisper and oh-so delicate.

She can feel his thumbs gently press into the pulse points of her wrists as he stares at her, and the surprising warmth of his touch makes butterflies flutter in her ribs. And just before she can open her mouth to call out to him again, he leans directly into her eye level.

“Are you high?” He’s audibly confused.

Her eyes turn into saucers in silent panic and it’s here that he can see her pupils are blown wide open.

“…Uhhhh…”

He sighs heavily as his head drops in defeat. It’s the only answer he needs.

“Okay,” he relents as he lets go of her. “Get your stuff. Let’s go home.”

He immediately stiffens once the words slip out. Oh, fuck fuck fuck.

No Din, no! This was temporary, remember?? She’d only made that abundantly clear the day she stepped foot on the Crest with a single bag and 2 datapads. It was always a mutual agreement though: she was to join him on the Crest to work full-time on tracking down a Jedi, with a deadline of at least a couple of months before he was to drop her off at a new planet of residency of her choosing. After all, she’d only just begun resettling her life and it was a path she intended to follow through on her own. Din understood this partnership was fleeting and it was unfair of him to call this ‘home’, yet for some reason, he insisted on slipping up in little moments like this again and again.

Though based on the glazed, clueless look in her eyes, she didn’t notice at all. “Okay.” she simply says, turning around to scan the alley for her belongings. As she skirts off in one direction, Din sees her blaster laying just a couple of feet away. He picks it up for her when a loud clanging catches his attention.

“Hey!” She calls out, straining to pull her bag out from under one of the bodies. Once she rolls him off with a kick of her foot, she holds up her bag and pulls out one of the sources of the noise. “Look, the cider survived!”

His helmet tilts almost disapprovingly, but he does nothing else as he holds her blaster out to her. “C’mon.” he all but huffs impatiently.

“Okay okay, sorryy- ” she slurs, stumbling over the same body as she returns and accepts her blaster. “One of these are yours ya know!” Mando is already walking away as she’s throwing her up bag over her shoulder, and she has to scramble to keep up with him, a move that makes her trip on her own two feet.

His helmet tilts over his shoulder at her. “Can you walk?” She’s not sure if it’s meant to sound demeaning or not, but it makes her puff her chest as she pouts at him.

“Of course I can walk!” she shoots back. “You’re just going too fast.” He grunts in response, helmet facing forward again and continues his pace. She’s not sure if it’s the spice but his strides feel more rushed than usual. His shoulders are also still fully straight, she notices and something tugs in her chest as she tries getting a sense of what his body language is telling her. She’s only a step or two behind him, and her eyes wander to the floor in front of her, the words spilling out before she can stop herself. “..are you mad at me?”

She almost sounds like a child, remorseful and heavy with guilt and she already hates how it comes out. But what punches harder is his response. Or his lack of it. Because he simply keeps walking at the same pace, fully ignoring her. No grunt, no hum, not even a sigh. And for some reason, this makes her ache. She stumbles over her own feet again and almost instantly she can feel tears threatening to well under the skin of her cheeks. She wants to curse herself for getting emotional, but it has to be liquor making her moods swing so drastically, she tells herself. Not that this thought doesn’t stop her from speaking again.

“I’m fired aren’t I- ”

Before she can blink, she runs face-first into a wall of beskar as he stops abruptly. She can’t help but yelp as she clutches her now-throbbing nose and when she looks back up, he’s turning to face her again. He stares at her until the silence frays at her nerves, and just when she can feel her face burning up to her ears, she hears a soft exhale from his modulator.

“C’mon,” his voice is soft as his right arm slightly pokes out towards her. “I can hear you tripping around from up here.”

Her brows furrow ever so slightly. “Are you makin’ fun of me?” she asks.

“Does it sound like I am?”

Her eyes narrow this time. “Mayybe.” she coos. But she loops her arm into the crook of his elbow and is silently delighted when he tucks her against his side. She finds it much easier to match his walk now and she can’t help the jump in her pulse as she’s pressed closer to him. In fact, she has to bite her lip to stop the silly grin threatening to spread across her cheeks. They walk in comfortable silence for a while before her spinning brain comes up with another enquiry.

“Mando?”

“Hm?” His response is barely registered under his modulator.

“How’d you find me?”

For a moment, Din doesn’t answer. And it’s not for the lack of one either. He’s just not sure where to begin. Does he start when he first re-entered the Crest to find the kid safe and sound but with her nowhere in sight? Or when he went back outside in hopes that she was on the roof stargazing or fiddling with the ship. Or when he started speed-walking through the nearby alleys because now he really couldn’t find her and just before his panic could bubble over, a single sound just yards away made his heart stop before he jump-started into a full sprint for her.

“I heard you scream.” he eventually replies and it almost sounds like his teeth are pressed together under that helmet.

She smiles at that. My hero. She almost wants to swoon until he speaks up again.

“I’ve warned you about being alone Sen’ika,” His tone is still soft, but firmer this time. She flinches and tucks her face down from him, nodding once.

“I know, I- ” her head swirls at the pang of shame but she swallows the urge to say anything other than what was necessary here. “I’m sorry.”

Another pause of silence. She decides to focus on their footsteps instead. There was something about the synchronized crunch of gravel under their boots that just satisfied every single sense in her. And it isn’t until she looks up and gets a full glimpse of the night sky that she realizes the spice is still very much in her system, unnatural neon lights and shapes bouncing across the stars. She stares in drunken awe up at them for a little too long and when she sees the Crest finally back in eyesight, she practically deflates in relief.

“Hey,” Then, Mando gently slides his arm out of their loop, leather ghosting down the length of her arm until he cups his palm over her fisted hand. “What matters to me most is that you’re safe,” he says softly. His visor turns to her, and he slowly opens her hand to slide his own into her palm. His gloved thumb gently squeezes her knuckles in what she can only gather as reassurance. “Okay?” His tone is so warm, it’s almost tender.

It catches her so far off guard, she’s pretty sure she short-circuited and is only still breathing on emergency autopilot. Her cheeks flush up and her eyes are blown wide open in the same sweet doe-like expression he adores so much, that he can’t help but smile behind the safety of his helmet. She blinks and she almost resets, clearing her throat as she looks straight ahead. She’s still blushing as she smiles and nods once. “Okay.” she replies sweetly.

Even his gloves are impenetrable, thick and almost twice as large in size. But she can still feel a warmth radiating from the other side against her skin. Suddenly feeling brave, she shifts, slipping through his gloves and slowly linking their fingers together. Mando stiffens at first, until her nails sink into the shape of his knuckles, and he internally melts. Before he can process his own reaction, he squeezes back, his thumb gently stroking over her own.

She looks up again, grinning from ear to ear. Clouds are dancing in her vision, stars swelling and shrinking in size across the painted skies. She dares herself to glance at him from the corner of her eye. He’s looking straight ahead thankfully, only semi-lit under the glow of the moons, but his beskar has never been more radiant. The same colors in her eyes bounce off the high points of his armor, illuminating him in an almost ethereal glow. She can’t stop her eyes from wandering. He’s perfectly shaped from every angle. He stands tall and proud, and walks with an effortless swagger so few could replicate. His mere presence can shift the focus of an entire room. He’s daunting and striking and is the picture of discipline and strength. Yet he cradles her hand in his like she’s made of glass. She’s never seen anything past the chiseled cut of his helmet, yet he’s never looked more beautiful in her eyes right now. She knows she shouldn’t be looking at him the way she is right now; with stars in her eyes and the softest, most affectionate little smile spreading from cheek to flushed cheek.

“You’re so pretty~” she slurs out in the sweetest tone. From behind his beskar, Din’s heart jumps into his throat.

“You’re drunker than I thought.” He doesn’t skip a beat though, somehow keeping his tone flat and neutral.

“It’s still truee,” she shoots back, leaning against his side with a wide grin. “It’s always been true!”

He glances at her wordlessly and she smiles back at herself through his visor. He’s not sure what to say to that, if anything, he’s too flustered to think of a rebuttal. He’s never been called pretty by anyone, even as a joke. Eventually he clears his throat and looks away and she only grins wider. Did she just leave him speechless? She can’t help but try to read his body language for any hints.

BONK.

Unfortunately she’s so distracted by the dancing Mudhorn on his pauldron that she fully trips on the descending base of the Crest’s ramp. The only thing that stops her from falling on her face is Mando’s sudden grip on her elbow. His visor slowly turns to her again. And she knows he’s frowning this time. He yanks her back to her feet and they finally ascend to the deck. She sighs happily once she stumbles into the safety of the Crest.

As Mando closes and locks up the gangway behind them, a late thought suddenly strikes her. She turns to him with panicked eyes. “The kid!?”

“Shh-!” He quickly hushes her with a gloved pointer over her lips. She stares into her own flushed reflection as her voice echoes into the cockpit above. She’s hyper-aware of just how loud she’s being now that she’s no longer outside. Along with the scent of sunkissed leather directly under her nose. She doesn’t move until his finger slowly pivots to her right and when she follows his direction, she spots his hover pod, sealed up and safe and sound, just as she’d left him.

She sighs softly and her shoulders slump in relief. Mando leans in pointedly. “You’re lucky you were right.” he whispers into her hair. “He didn’t flinch when I got home.”

As goosebumps sprout up the back of her neck, he pulls away and crosses the room to the ladder. “I’m gonna lock us down. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow.” Just before he climbs, he turns back to her. “Bedtime, Sen’ika. Now.” It's a gentle, but final warning.

She nods wordlessly and he leaves her in the middle of the room, dizzy and flustered. Her ears are also ringing now that she’s swallowed in silence. Eventually, she slowly pads into her designated corner. Her hammock is tucked away in the pocket of an empty storage closet, a thin makeshift curtain the only barrier between her ‘room’ and the deck. The walls hum around her and she realizes the heat has been turned back on, thankfully. She’s too drunk to fully wash up but she’s got enough energy to rip off her tight, itchy outdoor clothes and boots. She grabs the closest pajama-adjacent shirt and lounge pants she can find and wriggles them on.

She opens her hammock and finally allows herself to lay down, eyes turned to the dim ceiling.

How would it have felt if she’d laid her head on his shoulder?

No.

Would he have pushed her away? Or allowed her to stay?

Her brain’s focus shifts to the vision of his arms. His hands. His sweet, soothing voice.

I mean, he let her hold his hand, didn’t he? And hug him. Surely she could’ve gotten away with a little shoulder lean.

Gods, no.

Is he soft under all that armor? Does he run hot or does the beskar keep him cool? Is there a human face behind that m-

No! Stop it!

She physically shakes her head to break her train of thought. This was dangerous terrain. Just because you’re drunk doesn't mean you should be humoring these silly curiosities of yours! Her eyes squeeze shut and as she tries to take a deep breath, she realizes her heart is racing.

This is ridiculous.

Okay, so what if she has a crush on her employer?? It's not exactly a new phenomenon, and it certainly wasn’t the first boss she’d ever fallen for either. What was insane was what she liked about him. Because for the very first time, she couldn’t put a face to it. Instead, it was in his voice. His strength. His unwavering faith in his Creed, in the Way. He was loyal, honorable and resourceful. Stubborn as a Bantha, but quick to strike like lightning. He was also kind and selfless. He had the patience of a saint for the Child and innocent locals and despite his daunting appearance, he never hesitated to help out others, even if it meant pushing back on their schedule. There were actually various reasons why she liked him, and she couldn’t even put a name to a single one of them.

Not that any of it mattered. Because not a word of this would be uttered to anyone, let alone to him. Not to mention that this was a temporary gig, it’s not like she’d be around much longer anyway. The last thing she needed was to complicate this job for herself with her unprofessional schoolgirl behavior.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she shifts her focus to the only other thing clouding her judgment. Her head is still spinning but the heaviness behind her eyes makes it easy to keep them closed. She also focuses on slowing her breath, allowing her limbs to fully sink into the cradle of her hammock. A few minutes melt away and just as she finally feels herself beginning to drift..

“Pin her down.”

She physically jolts awake as the image of her ex-attackers kneeling over her flashes behind her eyelids. Her heart jumps to her throat as that same awful wave of nausea courses through her. Okay so clearly she wasn’t over what happened just yet. Her stomach turns again though this time for far more terrifying reasons.

She leaps to her feet before she can stop herself. She’s not sure what she wants just yet, but she knows whose presence she needs. She whips her curtain aside and almost jumps out of her skin when she sees Mando already standing at her doorway. “G-Geez- !”

He doesn’t flinch. He’s also holding a metal cup that he offers to her when she looks at it. “Drink this before you fall asleep,” he simply says.

“What is it?” she accepts it anyway, peering inside before taking a test sip.

“Just water,” Mando pauses and inwardly smiles when she gags at the aftertaste. “and powdered electrolytes to cut your hangover time in half. You'll thank yourself in the morning for it.”

“Mm, awesome!” she flashes him a pained grin and he almost chuckles. She’s so adorable like this, it’s almost painful.

He lingers for just a moment longer before he nods once. “Sweet dreams.” He starts walking away until a single hand on his arm makes him stop in his tracks. His helmet shoots towards her expectantly and when her eyes meet his visor, her voice suddenly clamps in her throat. She catches the almost-panicked expression in her reflection’s eyes and looks away. She almost starts apologizing, but he turns towards her instead, closing the distance between them. “What’s wrong?”

“I- ” Her face feels warm again despite her growing anxiety and she feels betrayed by the flush burning across her cheeks. She huffs and looks down at her feet. “Never mind, it’s n- ”

“Sen’ika,” He doesn’t even have to say anything else. His helmet ducks to try and catch her eye. “Tell me.” His voice is so gentle and reassuring that she has no choice but to succumb.

Fuck it, right?

“C… can I stay with you tonight?” Her voice is so soft, it’s almost a whisper. Her hand gently squeezes his sleeve, teeth catching on her bottom lip. “I don’t.. wanna be alone tonight..” To be fair, it wasn’t a lie.

It’s so quiet, you could hear a pin drop from the cockpit. In fact, she can’t even hear him breathing. Fuck. Did she fuck it up? Is he weirded out? Is she fired? Again?? Fuck! Take it back!

She has no idea just how startled Din really is though. She can’t hear his heart doing somersaults in his chest or how almost-terrified he looks behind the visor. But then she looks up at him with those frantic angel eyes for just a moment, he knows that despite whatever’s asked of him, how could he ever deny his little bird?

She opens her mouth and he perks up. ”Okay,” he says. It’s just as soft as she asked and almost nervous. He nods to follow up and clears his throat. “Of course.”

Her eyes round and she blinks back at him, almost dumbfounded. Holy shit, it worked? “Yeah?”

He nods again. “Yeah,” he replies lightly before his helmet jerks in the direction of his bunk. “C’mon.”

He crosses the room to his bunk to open the hatch. The kid’s pod is hovering peacefully right by the door where either of them can reach him if they have to. She follows him wordlessly where he steps aside for her. “Pick your spot, I’ll be right back.” he tells her.

Ironically, she was no stranger to his bed. He’d offered his room to her plenty of times before she carved out a spare corner for herself to give him his privacy back. She never imagined she’d actually be sharing it with him for once. She downed the last of her water and put the cup aside before she stepped into the bunk. She decided to slide into the corner facing the wall to give him as much space as possible.

Mando’s only gone for a few minutes, but in her panicked, overthinking state, it feels like ages. She finds comfort in his sheets. After getting so used to this space then moving out for a stretch of time, they felt familiar and almost welcoming to come back to. She acknowledged this was mostly due to their scent, the warm, woodsy musk that she recognized as what was likely the scent of his skin. She nuzzles into his blankets, inhales and sighs into them.

Then his boot steps echo back into earshot. She rolls onto her back and props up on her elbows, watching his shadowed figure fiddling outside. After a particularly heavy sigh, he clicks a light off and steps inside. For a second, he almost looks like a shadow sliding along the walls. It’s then she realizes he’s not wearing his beskar. He's stripped down to his full flight suit, boots, gloves and of course, his trademark helmet. There’s still not a shred of skin in sight but this still gives her a full view of his own figure. She’s dumbstruck at just how broad he truly is even without his armor. Then, it dawns on her that he took off his beskar to make room for her and something flutters under her ribs.

He looks at her and she scoots into the wall. His gloves clench and unclench in a subtle twitch as he slides into the space next to her. It’s a tight squeeze, laying shoulder to shoulder, but it’s a fit that would’ve probably been unbearable with the few inches of additional armor on. She crosses her arms, making herself smaller and fitting around the bigger gaps between them.

They both sigh and for a moment, it’s quiet. Her heart’s weirdly racing and she’s not sure what to say. Or if anything should be said at all. He shifts next to her, and her first thought is that he’s warm, even under his dense flight suit. He sighs again, and it sounds spent. She wonders if his eyes are closed behind that helmet.

Her head cranes towards him. “Long day?”

A short huff cracks through his modulator. “Something like that.” He’s smiling behind that response.

She grins back and looks up at the dark ceiling again. Colors are still swirling in her eyes if she squints long enough, but they're fading, she notes. There’s another short pause before this time, he breaks. “If.. this is too uncomf- ”

“It’s not.” she cuts in sweetly, still smiling to herself. Despite the angle, he’s warm and sturdy and she’d never felt more secure sandwiched between a man and his metal walls. She gently nudges his side. “Thanks again for saving my ass.”

He huffs again and nudges back. “Any time.” he replies.

She giggles and pauses, words pricking at the tip of her tongue. She’s feeling brave again and in her growing drowsiness, she decides to throw caution to the wind one last time. “Mando?”

“Mm?”

She inhales and shifts, her chin gently pressing into his shoulder. “Can I be honest about somethin’?”

His helmet shifts to her expectantly before pointing his chin at her. A silent approval to keep going. “I’ve been surrounded by armies my whole life. For as long as I can remember. Rebels, mercenaries, outcasts. You name it, I’ve met ‘em,” She peers up at his visor, ensuring she’s making eye contact. “And I’ve never felt safer with any of ‘em than I have with you.”

He doesn’t so much as twitch, but she swears she hears his breath seize under the helmet. Once again, his chest blooms and swells and something warm settles in his stomach. He smiles inwardly and before he can stop himself, a gloved hand comes up between them, leather knuckles stroking along the shape of her cheek.

She leans into it for just a moment and then she breaks through, ducking under his arm to curl herself up into his side. She rolls onto her own side, an arm draped across his chest and her head resting below his collarbone. Surprisingly, he not only allows her position shift, but he wraps his arm around her and even pulls her into him. “I made a promise to you,” he says. His hand settles between her shoulder blades, his thumb tracing a single circle into her back. “As long as you’re with me, you’ll be safe from harm. I intend to keep that promise as long as it takes.”

With her ear pressed into his shirt, she realizes that his pulse is racing against her. He also smells nice, like a combination of gunsmoke, the outdoors and the linen of his sheets. It’s woodsy and crisp, but it’s warm and homey and so intoxicatingly comforting.

She wants to say it.

She could get away with saying it if she played it right. But she's too drowsy and delirious and exhausted to keep thinking. He’s draping his blankets over them, tucking her into the ultimate heat source and she wants to soak in it. There’s a cool press against her hair and she realizes that his helmet is leaning into her. “Is this okay?” he whispers to her.

She nuzzles into his shirt and sighs contentedly. Sleep is pulling her into its depths faster than she anticipated but she has enough energy to sweetly mumble, “No. It’s better than okay.”

He exhales through his nose from above her and his hand gently rubs her back. “Get some sleep, mesh’la,” he purrs. “I’m here.”

She doesn’t know what that one means. She makes a mental note to ask tomorrow. Right now, she picks her head up to press a single kiss into his collarbone before plopping back down. “G’night Mando..”

His heart rate picks up again. He pulls her up closer so her head is nestled into the crook of his neck. This allows her to wrap both arms around him. His helmet tilts down and she swears she feels his eyes on her. “Good night.”

She closes her eyes and smiles, allowing herself to sink into his warmth and scent for the first and probably only time. Her words were never truer than in this moment; never had she felt safer than in this tiny bunk, wrapped in her Mandalorian’s blankets. She falls asleep shortly afterwards, her breaths evening out and her heartbeat slowing into a tranquil pace. This time, her mind takes her to more pleasant dreamscapes.

She can’t detect Mando at all, listening to her pulse as she sleeps. She doesn’t feel how long it takes before his gloves slip off in the dim lights and two arms fully wrap around her. She can’t sense his warm palms holding her against him, one across her back, the other coming up to smooth and brush her hair. And she’s long gone by the time he makes the conscious choice to give his helmet a break, telling himself he needs the air and it’ll be back on long before she wakes up tomorrow.

Somewhere in her subconscious, thoughts flash across her eyes; images of the Child, his laugh, his bright brown eyes, and his infectious joy. Repeated images of Mando, his visor, his cape, his arms. His sheets. His voice. His leathered touch. Their hands linked under a coat of stars.

She swears she feels a pair of ghostly lips brush against her forehead, if only for a moment, but she never quite figures out where they came from. Not that it matters. Because for now, this is enough. Even if it is only temporary.

* * *

a/n: stream season 3 only on disney + <3

if you would be so kind as to reblog this if you feel insecure about your writing skills.

But have you considered: Thorin might be nearsighted?

Case in point:

Exhibit 2

“It cannot be.”aka Doesn’t actually recognize Azog until he starts talking…

This needs no explanation:

*BOOM*

Exhibit 3:

Not subtitled, but Thorin shouts for Kili when actually Fili is the one who was almost crushed >.< 

Exhibit 4

Not pictured because I couldn’t find a gif, but Thorin prompting Balin to lead them out of Rivendell because he “can see knows these paths”

Exhibit 5 

Cut off Azog’s arm, was probably aiming for something slightly more fatal, couldn’t tell he was alive when dragged back inside Moria…

Exhibit 6

WHERE’S BILBO?

(”I have no idea because I can’t see for shit.”)

Conclusion:

Since wearing glass in front of your eyes is slightly more of a liability for a fighter than people’s faces being slightly blurry, I’m just gonna throw this out there as a possible explanation for fandom to run with ;)

Want for Nothing

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x modern!OC, Tessa DeVon

Words: 6,404

Rating: Teen+ (inuendos, testing the waters--mmm) (18+ for spicy themes to be safe)

Warnings: no-angst confession, pining, LOTS of touching, kisses and grinding, lovely dirty talk, sweet, sweet romantic tension

A/N: a bit of fluff, bit of pining, and no small amount of delicious chemistry for these beloved characters who are FINALLY acting on their feelings... Much love to @fizzyxcustard in celebration of her recent trip around the sun... belated, but very much deserved! This one's for you, m'love 💞

Summary:

Take away the robes, the sword, the crown, and the weight of responsibility; these things leave Thorin as just a dwarf. A dwarf with pride, passion, and loyal to a fault-- and yet also easily the most honest and endearing man Tessa DeVon has met in this or any other realm- most notably, hers.

And does she ever crave him. The dance with death they faced on their Quest is over, and Tessa ever so wants to settle into a gentle ending with her Dwarf King.

The busier the two get, she'd do nearly anything for a moment alone, and when she happens on just such an occasion, she's thrilled-- only to doubt reading into the situation with one sided intentions. But what if these feelings were not so one-sided? How might she be rewarded when she brings her heart to the surface…

Read on AO3

There's a learning curve or two, for Tessa to learn in Erebor. Or three. It’s hard to keep count; it feels like there is a new one every day…

The Mountain is both familiar and not. The stories she’s heard on their cross country trek to the Erebor has painted a clear picture in her mind– and now, she’s seen it in the flesh and has the chance to have a hand in helping rebuild it. Her reinstated King has his mind set to restore the parts that should be redeemed back to their former glory, and to also sort out the plans for the things he wants to change. As the second of his royal namesake, Thorin II has the rare opportunity to make this kingdom as he sees fit– one to truly bring all the dwarf kingdoms into the fold and see Erebor and her people reach higher highs than his forefathers ever conceived.

And that’s a hell of an undertaking.

Not that he wished to micromanage, but Thorin has spent days slaving over each department’s planners and ledgers to get a solid master plan in place, with those he trusts at the top– because if his Company worked this hard to come home, too, he's going to see that they thrive in their new roles. There's bound to be missteps -trial and error- but the kindly voices of hardy dwarves around him will help him tackle the learning curve.

There is also the matter of his conscience– another, new learning curve of his own. Thorin must wrangle and settle the guilt of his failings… and thank Aule that Tessa promised to be here to see it through. 

He’s told her any time she’d listen that he relies on her for that blessing– the mercy that passes his understanding.

Tessa is so proud of the whole operation, of all of them– if a little at a loss of what to do, herself. Through recovery, she was able to be of help during a most stressful time; but the first night the entire Company sat together again for a reunion meal now that they’ve all healed, the questions came to how they would divide the shares, their stations, etc. Each member, to the last dwarf,  volunteered to aid Thorin however he deemed. 

The journey brought them together so closely, and none could go long without seeing each other now that they’ve been through Hell and Back Again. 

In the very beginning however, Tessa could not have felt more like an outsider. 

Welcomed as she was and tested through trial after trial living amongst them with linked arms, living in the Lonely Mountain was a new experience entirely. She might have been given nickname after nickname by the men in her life: from playful to annoying, to something called Sanâzyun… but she was and could never forget, in every way, a stranger to this land: to the Race of Men, Elves, to the dwarven kind.

… to the very World of Middle Earth. 

So while she rested her head each night under the assurance that she had a secure place here and plenty of friends who cared for her, Tessa made no mistake to try and assume she knew it all from a few stories and some history lessons around a fire. 

Out of respect, she nearly excused herself in the early meetings when they talked over all this– but Thorin stopped her in her tracks each time she made to stand. In perfect grace, he’d extended an offering to her, 'naturally'. He swears she'll want for nothing if she chooses to stay, 

'Celebrate your wins, yes. But please, share in this– our joys and our revelry as well– this home we've won together. This Mountain is yours to call home if you wish it so. You bled for this just as we all have. I cannot imagine a soul here would not want for you to stay, Tessa.'

So she agrees to stay… like she was going to choose anywhere else. Everyone cheered when she gave the news.

So they each set to work. 'Rome wasn't built in a day', and neither will Erebor. Tessa decided to shadow Balin and find the nooks and crannies that can be preserved. Royal Quality Control– similar enough to her old job, she reasoned. She learns the Mountain home best this way... though in doing this, she also caught a bout of 'smog sickness' from the lower mines at first– the third learning curve. She had to learn the power of hydration in the hot forges and the importance of a good, well-fitting facescarf.

But as with all new things, these stumbling blocks were all teaching lessons: Tessa’s to find her place in this world,  and Thorin’s to not sweat the small stuff and to try and rest himself.

–and maybe learn to come to terms with his heart’s feelings too. Tessa’s a bit ahead of him on that front… 

It's been weeks since their last talk on the subject;  of their undeniable chemistry. Rather than put a name to their draw to one another, the dwarf King and his odd, other-worldly Darling with her funny flat twang of an accent have remained in a dance of sorts, ever since… and Tessa -poor thing- has never quite forgotten what's all been pushed to the side and gotten in the way.

Perhaps, she wonders as she slips on her long sweater atop the layers of embroidered dress, I can snag him aside for a little chat tonight. God knows he needs a break. Maybe I'll pay Dwalin for a good distraction, some whiskey– yeah, that'll do it.

So, with a smirk, Tessa slipped a bottle of her personal stash from her makeshift bedside table, wrapped it in a leather skein, and set out into the Hall at Fili's call for her. 

Here Tessa found herself surrounded by the brashest blend of personalities in what was beginning to be actually a very relaxing moment... At dinner, the Company had all been merrymaking and having a blast of it. There's been builds, a hog tying, and something called a 'Stumpfest': which for those out along the mountainskirts, that was a success called for a celebration. Tessa will take any excuse to open this whiskey again. 

Then as the evening dwindled on, the stories began; clusters of family and friends telling their tales of old, and thankfully, making an attempt to include Tessa as much as possible. It often felt like a personal storytime to her, whenever her boys took the helm of a conversation. 

'Ye won't believe this next one lass, just wait till ya hear-'

Good thing Tessa brought the whiskey for the occasion- she'd need it for herself after all these gory war stories…

Across the room where Heads of House have gathered for a meal, Thorin was actively blurring the lines between work and play as they speak. His sidebars, from what Tessa could vaguely tell were ones of nostalgia which segued into his current happenings quite well. Still, she'd listen to him all day if she could. 

Everyone at the table, and truly everyone in Erebor, sees their king as infallible, immovable and without any chinks in the armor– never knowing that his biggest enemy is himself. After all, his fatal flaw is never turning that brilliant mind of his off. Funny, Tessa thinks to herself, that he'd be a prime candidate for Redbull or Five Hour Energy advertisements for as much as he complains about not having the energy to get through the day. Though in the warm din of the evening fires blazing across the fire stones, he'd gained a second wind through a pint or two of his favorite ale.

Tessa snuck a glance from where she sat among a circle of master storytellers; namely her dear Bofur and Nori. Even with hilarious sources of distraction right next to her, she’s unable to part her sights from Thorin for long. He’s just– captivating. Even here - at the end of the day with his hair down and tunic untethered to the low point of the neckline. He’s irresistible. And not helping Tessa’s endless pining of him…

As the hour dragged on, she was pleased to see Thorin laugh and ease himself of those hard lines of focus he wore– and was hit with even more delight when he met her eyes with rapture and ultimate fondness, even from across the room. It was electrifying, every time, to have his focus all on her. (What she wouldn't give to have a way to speak mind to mind, because she cursed the distance between them whenever he looked at her like that.)

Sure enough though, the pull to be by his side was too strong– and he, too, beat her to the same draw. 

Thorin came to her circle of conversation, where Bofur was regaling another far-fetched story Tessa assumed was toeing the line of fantasy. While he didn't react to the outbreak of laughter that ensued, Thorin spoke above them on the downbeat, begging the group to allow him to borrow Tessa– effectively excusing the pair 'for a quick review while she has the time'. 

Tessa assumed this was a lovely excuse to take a walk, as they left the hall and into one of the upper corridors.

–but it wasn't. No, he's actually picking her brain and trying to find the right bit of parchment in the Mapmakers Study to show her something, and swept her away to help him look. 

For a moment, Tessa did find this adorable: Thorin, flitting about mumbling a decade's worth of history as if she can hear him properly, explaining what he's doing. But it's just his way of trying to catch her up to speed, so she took their outing as a dear expression of that. 

Inside this room, Tessa found a little perch beside the table she happened upon. It's ancient and caked with rubble, dust, and stacks of books. Oh, and of course, Dwarven scabbards; because who in their right mind in Erebor would find themselves without their steel at their side, even one abandoned generation ago? The mess was a funny sight. Careful of nicks and splinters, Tessa minded where she sifted through, all while Thorin dug around like he owned the place speaking only in fragments- sorting his thoughts as he did the hidden treasures laid out before him.

A comfortable quiet passed between them, leaving Tessa to a host of thoughts in her inner dialogue. When Tessa recalled the memories and stolen moments they shared like this– the ones they typically came so close to talking about, but were always interrupted for one reason or another– the flair of impatience reared up.

Thorin's promise, especially.

So, Tessa broke her waiting silence,

"You said once, 'I wouldn't want for anything'. Not while I lived here, right?"

Thorin only barely cocked his head, still on the hunt for whatever he was searching for. 

"Mm, that's right," he offered blindly. "Why do you ask."

A knife's hilt caught her attention. To admire the goat's-leather handle, Tessa picked it up and leveled it on a finger– and kept her gaze from him, as aloof as she can manage, 

"Well I gotta say…" she lightly sighed, "If the taste of what I had in Laketown is any indication, I'd say I'm pretty neglected."

Polite quiet was thrown out of the room– by Thorin’s hand on the table rolling something off it by accident. 

The sound turned Tessa towards the clatter, and then to her lovely companion. Completely puzzled, Thorin looked up to her newly alerted. Concern coated that expression.

Tessa made a concerted effort to keep her face as neutral as possible. Really sell the blasé look to him;

"On the back porch?..." Tessa threw the memory into the open. 

Tomorrow would be the blessed day that’s been over a year in the making: the day that would see the dwarves reach Erebor, and the buzz about Bard's small home couldn't be more lively. With the exception of Kili's room where he fought with sleep and the aches, the Company had trouble getting a good night's rest when the journey would be reaching its end in a matter of hours– when they'd take the boats from Laketown and see their home again. Yes, this was the night before they take on their last stretch of road, so Tessa joined Thorin on the balcony for their nightly chat– presumably their last peaceful one for a while.

He's wearing red tonight. It's a borrowed shirt and decidedly too long in the arms– and yet he pulls it off with a rugged finish. He could don any color and he'd look amazing… even though the Durin blue is the natural choice. Surely it will return after a wash day gives it new life.  

Threading his arm, relaxed, Tessa keens in the cool of the night and said she'd decided to come outside to simply enjoy the view while she has it. –but as he noticed she's looking right at him when she said the words, Thorin settles into the moment's respite with her, comforted as never before- and squeezes the hand laid atop his. 

Didn’t last long, this stretch of magic and attraction. When picking up the sound of Bilbo and Balin wandering out the door on the far side of the dock to talk with him, Tessa took her leave; well, not before she snuck a kiss on Thorin’s cheek before he can turn and say otherwise. But words never came in his surprise: only action.

It’s so fast– Thorin catches her wrist back, pulls the palm over where his heart beat, and gives Tessa a real kiss for the very first time: warm and firm due to how close she was. 

The pair didn't notice since Tessa bluffed so well, passing them and the Company with that stolen moment with the King all to herself. Secret kept, she simply beamed in what looked like pride to the outside, after slipping inside and losing herself to drink and a buzz that had nothing to do with the wine. 

A tense parting would come the next morning… As Kili's health waned, Fili stubbornly set standing by his brother’s side, the Company received an earful of even more warnings about the Mountain's curse, and poor Bilbo fluttered about more nervous than he'd ever been. Before they set out from the city, when Thorin asks Tessa to stay in Bard’s home and care, she agrees because it's obvious: she'd protect his family without question and understands Thorin to-a-tee. He worries for them both, his sister-sons, but in turn, Tessa makes him swear to be careful until they can rejoin him. He gives his word as best as possible- as the Uncle, the Leader, and something more... 

Under the little half canopy, some wooden chimes blew their way in the breeze as a send-off song of their own. Nothing more to promise as she knew nothing truly was, Tessa offered Thorin as confident a smile and 'go get em' as she could manage. 

But as she heads inside, Thorin catches her elbow again to make her stop. She's thrilled her brave show of affection wasn't a dream, when the dwarf cups her head and kisses her goodbye again in private where no one can see them: under tarps, caring touch, and broken bits of light above them… shedding what hope they could offer this tired, wooden corner of the world .

–And it all fell into place; each line of Thorin's confusion dissipates as he realizes just what Tessa means. 

What's more is his response, interest seeping in: 

"Is that what you want?"

Tessa cocks her head. All too demurely, mind you– sliding a hand back through her hair's part, the flirty act deliciously fluffed it up. She's feigning innocence, but even the smallest of moves all but scream how she's presenting herself from the chest, out. 

True, Tessa wants his kiss again.. But she wanted something even deeper, felt herself wanting for more than just that one brief connection on the surface. 

She yearned for every bit of Thorin: those moments of pride she’d observed in public, as well as these intimate ones here. She wanted his heart, his mind, his kindness, his righteous  rage… she wanted to taste every story he’d gift her, and wrap herself up in that voice for the rest of forever. 

So in short? Yes; she wanted him. 

But this behavior… this is a wager. A huge limb she's leapt onto. 

Whatever Thorin was looking around the desk for her to see went forgotten. Instead, he chose to close their gap. 

With steady steps, he saunters close to his fairer company– dangerously eyeing her face, to her neck, to the slope of her chest, and to her eyes again. The move forced Tessa into a lean back onto the desk, pinned. Under such dazzling eyes, she just holds back Thorin's stare with a saucy, hidden smile.

"The lady wants for a bit of attention, does she?" 

Thorin soothed the woman in reach as he framed her perfectly, hands bridged on the desk on either side of her. 

"Just a bit, maybe," Tessa slides her hands along his lapels- not so cautiously anymore. "Not to be an inconvenience, Your Majestic-ness…"

With a careful eye, Thorin outlined her features as he looked her over, ignoring her jab and seeking the intention underneath. He's no simple-minded man- he sees everything in a word: what she says and what she means, even in her jests. Something akin to doubt crossed his face as he spoke his mind, 

"I'd not been certain… Forgive me if I cast the wrong impression your way," Thorin sought her forgiveness through a tender touch of her arm, "Tessa, I've only ever– I've tried my utmost to carve away time to you, as you rightly deserve. Though I’ve not presumed or demanded so…"

A lovely flip bashed against Tessa's chest, her desire: spurring her nod of the head to placate his worry. 

Thorin asked further, meekly,

"Am I to believe you– might feel as I do? Regarding that night, and… the morning that followed, and the– Mahal, what you said in the infirmary…" Thorin winced at the shared memory; indeed, reading into things too late. 

Tessa bopped her head again, a subtle way to show her heart lies with him without a doubt in her mind. That it wasn't too late…not when she'd given her reason for staying, why she'd stay in Thorin's corner, and the reason she'd keep coming 'round: 

'Love– present tense.' 

"Feels like ages ago, but– yeah." Tessa confessed. "Kinda hoped it wouldn't be a one-time thing," A small, enticing smile tinged the side of her mouth. 

"I feel a fool all the more, then," Thorin chuckled as he swept Tessa into his arms more comfortably, "I truly have been distracted, haven't I."

"I don't think a single person here would blame you, Thorin. You're more than busy– you're booked three or four times over, hon," Tessa laughed herself, sinking into his arms. "Your people's King comes first, and I know that; and I can behave myself well enough on my own between my sightings of the guy."

Thorin's look softened upon her. He clearly wasn't content with this status quo.

"And it's not like I feel ignored, not in the slightest! M'only–" Tessa trailed off, turning coy again and fixating on all these details up close; the stiching and braidwork she'd come to associate with this more illustrious form of 'Thorin', "--just finding myself craving a certain someone's attention sometimes. Just from one, particularly regal source, busy as he is…"

With his palms swept up her corseted sides, the dwarf before her teased her right back. To her delight– Thorin likes to play, too.

"And whose attention is that?” he asked lightly, “There are several dwarf lords here tonight, all from noble blood. Whose attention have you sought after, so patiently?..."

Breathless as she locks in on his lips and gives a playful little smirk, Tessa hug hims loose around the shoulders.

He's got her: snug in tight, in perfect space to nuzzle noses, close to speaking into her partially open mouth,

"Tell me, Tessa~"

His Darling swallowed. Won't take much, she'll be caving any moment now. Broken and breathy, Tessa stood stock still beside herself. Her chest heaved with the words,

"-'d like yours."

Thorin rumbled, "Louder."

"Yours." Tessa's shudder.

A happy, low moan came from Thorin in response, his forehead dropping to hers for a nuzzle. What she'd been reduced to by this man's voice…breaking eye contact from that gorgeous face to study his neck.

"Shyness, from you. Wherever did this come from, pretty thing?"

Forget shyness and patience. Tessa whines, tipping her head up for a kiss.

"Thorin, please."

The dwarves' King quiets her with a devilish hush of his lips before collecting her hair back and capturing hers in one fell swoop. But one right after another, Thorin easily lost himself in the sensation.

 Just as guilty and greedy for so much more. 

Breaking for labored breaths and a too-long glance, a delighted smile lit up Tessa's face, and one in equal measure to his. 

Giving him attention back, Tessa's hands cupped his strong neck and jawline, fingers teasing deliciously down to his beard before seeking a path through his hair like he'd done to her. This earned a straight growl and a deliberate step forward to pin her to the table-- to the point where Tessa felt Thorin's 'presence' in every sense of the word.

She sighed his name, like she could breathe it until the end of time to sustain her. For Tessa, it was easy, and right off the tongue, to react like this at the lack of room, distracted by his press to notice him straying to lap at her neck now. 

Paws cradling her to him, Tessa's stance spread to let her leg give out and lift on instinct. 

Reading her moves by touch, Thorin yanked behind her knee to prop her up against the surface to fit himself to her. She was pretty sure a knife hilt and some empty scabbards laid flush against her bottom, but she barely cared.

"Thorin--" Tessa lightly sighed and swallowed for control. Her head buzzed from within, and echoed by his moans answering hers, "some--ah.. Don'-- nnng d-door?"

"I don't care." Thorin growled in a deep place in his chest. "Let them come. I've waited for you long enough."

Tessa gawked: has he??

She could chuckle now, she's that relieved– but gasped at the sensual kiss and light suck to her ear. Thorin teases the stud between his teeth. Nuzzling her back to center, he mumbled something delicious in his native language before his mouth was yanked back to meet hers again by way of slightly trembling hands.

There's no hope now; Tessa's addicted. Now locked in, she bit along Thorin's bottom lip to claim him– wordlessly crying out 'mine' to his lips.

The game of back and forth wound up with Tessa being hoisted fully onto the table, Thorin's hands petting just about any curve he could reach. Fingers long since tugged her collar down so he could worship her jewel-adorned chest, one palm braced above her as she has him locked between her legs by the waist, making out with him half atop her. 

As her sights stayed fixed on every bit of his regal features, Tessa's exploration of Thorin's chest and arms' reach had him heaving heavy, excited breaths when they broke away-- each huff exerting intense restraint to not bowl her over and lose himself in her entirely. The sight thrilled her.

While she held onto his pillar of a bicep, Tessa gave Thorin's neck an extra dose of care and took advantage of the angle to whisper all sorts of nothings up to him– anything to break his damn restraint and give her some sort of pressure between her hips.

"God you're gorgeous…”  Tessa sighed, the praises coming naturally. “Watching you run this place like you were always meant to... teasing with those baby blues of yours, and all I can do is watch you-- so fucking unfair."

Thorin shuddered under her tongue.

"How the hell am I supposed to focus all those days last week… stuck in that throne room, wishing I could just walk right up to that dais, n'sit on your lap... That's my spot, after all; you promised you’d keep it for me~"

"Mahal, Tessa..."

Tessa smirked, 

"Part of you wouldn't even care if I did, would you? I could wear that blue dress you like on me so much. Won't be any mistaking whose I belong to then, huh~" She whispered up to his ear. "Maybe one of these days I just..might..do that."

Thorin rattled a low growly noise, something fierce and turned on. 

He caught her neck in a light hold, tearing her from her niche under his curtain of hair,

"Nnng, must you say things like that..."

Tessa upped the ante on the sweetness, despite the lustful glare he gave.

"Would you rather I lie and say less, my darling Highness?" 

"Lies don't become you," Thorin grit out, tugging her up flush against him, "But if you're to be so lavish and colorful in your descriptions of what you'd like me to do to you, I'd prefer it to be in a warm, lit room with a good, sturdy bed– and not in the same hour I have to turn tail and face my innermost council with my 'sword drawn'."

A chortle burst from her with a lovely giggle-- the audacity, she could imagine the faces now. 

Thorin fixed a look at her laugh, straightening his waistband as subtle as possible.

"You are set on becoming the death of me, aren't you."

"I doubt you really wann’a make a deal with Death now after all this time, do you? Thought you had work to do."

"Work that you do not seem remotely interested in partaking in right now, little minx."

"I am interested, I've always been interested," Tessa sang up to the object of her affections, "Just thought maybe you deserved a break–" Tessa eyes him back with a glance... and a super slow uptick of the leg,  "Just a nice, little distraction."

Thorin pressed in at that front leg advancing. He groused into her shoulder, inlaying a kiss between his thoughts. 

"What was that?"

"A desperate dwarf's plea, my darling dove." Thorin moaned at the base where her neck and shoulder met. "'Have mercy on this stubborn soul.'"

"Hey~ m'not trying to embarrass you," Tessa smooths his hair back and directs him by the bearded chin to face her, "Just want you to feel the same as I do. Just as good, just as special."

"My special one, you are." 

Thorin mouthed at her cheek after a sweet kiss, continuing, 

"--and how I'd enjoy showing my special one just how special she is–”

Tessa sank into his arms tightening around her waist, giving in to his support.

“For Mahal as my witness,” Thorin all but sang into her ear low and clear, “I'd not show my beloved my efforts in this musty place. I'll not have her on a desk that's not been touched in who-knows-how-long when I commit every blessed inch of her to memory…”

Good God.

Thorin rakes through her hair before the poor thing could speak, could think- 

“No; I shall have her on the finest bed in these Halls. Nothing in earshot but a fire raging: crackling the air around us, accompanied by that perfect sound of every sweet noise I drive out of her- filling the Mountain itself. Every last beg and moan and sigh and cry. I take my time. I do not rush, and I will not allow her to hold a drop of her sweetness back from me. And believe me, Sanâzyun, I will know."

Tessa... stopped working. 

Then he promised again, 

"You will want for nothing… whilst you are under my care and my house. Not now, nor until my last breath." Thorin pulled back to hold her gaze to him again, "Does that please you, my sweet, neglected One?"

The tiniest noise escaped Tessa-- not unlike steam from a teapot-- but was silenced as Thorin sealed his filthy promises with a lavish kiss to her jaw. 

The rest of Tessa's neck bowed, compliant; leaving Thorin with the room and to he time he willed to carry on with adoring attention to her nape, all while massaging up her leg through her dress.

… –at least until an oaken door flung open in a crash against the wall. 

Tessa flung into panic mode- what she must look like, a wanton thing; Thorin forced them both to duck, quick now, under the desk. 

Once landed on her ass and tucked in by Thorin's massive, immovable arm, Tessa choked on her laugh– heaven knows why they're doing this... But Thorin simply held her: back flush against him with the unspoken swear to not move a muscle.

"Will Mahal in His Grace please give me a reason not to whack this oaf, please! I need a sound voice of reason for once, THORIN!! 

"I'll show ya REASON, you ancient pair a' donkey's buttocks!!" 

Tessa looks at said King over her shoulder to catch sight of it; Thorin simply rolls his eyes and firms up his mouth. 

Tessa mouths, 'donkeys buttocks?' It took everything to keep her from giggling– this scene is ridiculous. Thorin however, while keeping a sharp ear on where the others were in the room, met her silent question with a cheeky wink. They listened on– praying to every spirit that their surprise company would just leave. The wandering hand cupping Tessa's waist spoke volumes as much….

Which worried her– because she could hear steps all around the backside of the table.

She can't really believe this: two grown adults were hiding from from their dearest, closest comrades and kin. 'Like randy bairns', Dori would say… Of course, he's presently debating with Gloin something fierce. 

"Well surely you gotta give him the context, Dori!!"  Fili chimed in to lay down the law. Tessa could imagine the hand motions he's giving to seem his most princely. "Be fair, now! Tell him who's really got the grievance." 

"The lords over the Guild are making a right mess of the armory- we got one chance to do this right, and it's all gone to straight horseshit. It doesn't even take a novice to know what a mess it is- ye can't even walk straight down the Hall, there's rubbish everywhere!" 

"I TAKE OFFENSE TA THAT!" Gloin fired up again, "I've given a GENEROUS allotment to see to the– bah, just as- Not asking ya to come see fer yourself like a nanny," grace reentered the Redbeard's tone, "but- Thorin, you in 'ere?"

A hand petted along Tessa's ribcage. Not a word. 

"You sure he's in here, lad?"

"Saw 'em come in here myself…" Fili mused low in his chest.

Tessa bit her cheek against the pang of nerves for distracting Thorin in the first place. Then, a silent nip to the soft spot on her still-exposed shoulder changed her feelings; she became confident she needn't worry if he wasn't.

"Don't exactly got the best track record of watching where folks are going tho, are ya boy."

"That was one. time." Fili groused, never living down the 'Ponies Incident of the Spring'. "Fine. Let's go your way, Dori."

The two bickered on with an exhausted Fili following suit. But by Grace, Favour and Luck, at the sound of his nephew's grunt to close the oaken door again, Thorin let his head fall back on one of the table supports. 

The sigh that left him was tired and worn. 

Tessa slunk back to recline against him- more across his lap so that she could see him fully, 

"Popular mister you are, huh?"

Thorin bristled at even his closest blood relative who left the room. "Only ever at the peak times I wish not to be."

Tessa chuckled at Thorin's interrupted expense, but snuggled up to him all the same. Naturally he welcomed the cuddle, and coincidentally helped her heart slow down a bit at both their rush of passion and the scare. With a shadowed curtain over them, the pair out of the low lamplight, this hiding spot did wonders for the senses and made everything feel more cozy between them– yes, even criss-crossed on the cold floor. Thank goodness for the linens over the table.

Reminded Tessa of those tarps that gave them shade in Laketown. How similar this all felt, a nighttime deja vu rather than the day... 

"Suppose I might be the selfish one, after all–" Tessa stomached her guilt. "This is just this sort of thing I was trying to avoid..."

"What do you mean?"

Tessa truly felt juvenile now, cooped up and hiding from prying eyes. 

"This." she sassed, "Crawling around like children, trying and almost failing to keep a secret thing going?"

Thorin gave a naughty laugh at this, one that betrayed his years, too.

"Now that you mention, who's to say this need be a secret, really..." 

"You, apparently," Tessa wrenches back to look Thorin dead in the eye, "You're the one who hid us under a flippin' table!"

"Because you were nearly about to faint at my next words– and I'm not letting my nephew see either of us in this state!" Thorin laughed, incredulous. "Imagine what you'd might have cried out for the whole neighboring quarters to hear, had I carried on just so-"

And she did indeed start a poor try to smother her giggles at the sheer embarrassment. Thorin tickled the daylights out of her sides until she scooted into his lap further to gain the high ground. 

While Tessa revealed in this soft spot she’d found in her dearest and most unexpected crush, the thought sunk in how quickly he did, in fact, hide away. He had said he was trying to avoid the look of losing himself, and Tessa couldn't forget that appearances - though vain- were important to him.

As much as she loved the man underneath the regalia, Thorin was the King- he and the crown were inseparable. 

"Don't tease, Thorin." Tessa heaved, breathless. It was easy to disguise her pause as mirth for a moment. 

But Thorin pored over the way her face must have changed with a careful regard,

"I am not teasing you."

He cupped her cheek then, keeping her close with a gentle hold, Thorin leaned in to brush their foreheads together. 

"What of you, my Heart," he rumbled softly, "Would you sacrifice your happiness as I have… and wait along for a mere moment's peace with the one you seek for the rest of your days when you may have it all, freely?"

Tessa's brought to tenderness by his words.

"Well.." she managed with a Southern smile, shifting to mesh her fingers with his off her face, "When it's you, I think any chance is worth it, even if it's small. Even if…."

She glanced up, to the plans laid out on the table above them,

"... this is the only chance I get to really work up the guts to tell you just how much I would want that with you."

While she couldn't read his mind, she was no fool: Tessa saw how her words affected Thorin, as maybe he never got to hear them.

Those lovely, heavy-set brows tilted and softened. 

"I'll take ya however I can getcha, yknow." Tessa tried to lighten her meaning, "I'm really not out to keep you from those who need you, hon. That list is getting longer by the day."

"And if.. I said I needed you?"

Oh how she tried not to set her hopes too high for that. And yet, she was gifted with its blessing:

" 'My people', our friends, will manage well enough on their own." Thorin brushed Tessa's bangs away lovingly, "And I for one agree with your point of view; you are right. I believe I should spare my time when I can. Indulge in that ‘self-care’ you speak of.”

The term sounded funny coming from him, and caused a smile to flicker into your lips.

“Just for a spell of rest and company every now and then can't hurt…” Thorin decided, “-if you say it really matters."

Music to Tessa's ears. 

Taking that height of heart, Thorin scooped Tessa into his lap the rest of the way. Damn the cramped space, but she made herself fit anyway.

"Maralmizi, Sanâzyun." Thorin said, as solemn as a promise that would be given by a King. 

But that light in his eyes- the one that shot into the soul when you looked at it… Tessa couldn't turn away if she tried. In fact, she melted into it, wrapping Thorin up in her arms. 

That's the look of a lover…

…Did he just say he loves me?

"Something tells me," Tessa whispered down to him, "that I think I know that one. You just spun three words, with eight very sweet letters around in Khuzdul… M'I right?"

"A fair observation, yes," Thorin chuffed in a smile, he spiraled a lock of hair around a finger, entranced by its ombre fade of color. "Clever thing."

Tessa beamed in full joy, and nuzzled into him again. 

"I may crave this sight of you all I like," he confessed, "--yet I would also see you by my side as well, Tessa. And proudly keep you there, if you wish," he gave a crooked smile, "If that will satisfy your wanting for the time being, I will make the effort to ensure you do not feel this way again."

Entranced by that smile and adoring words that came from it, 

"Not just for work?"

"You'll have it all. Merely say the word, and you’ll have the world by my hand."

Tessa rested in this comfort. She didn't want the world… just him, really. 

"...I'd like that."

And so, Thorin kissed his Tessa again with ultimate softness- and dare she say, love. 

Perhaps they’d tell the party when they came back into the room, perhaps not just yet. Perhaps they’d keep this between them for now…

Taglist: @lathalea @sotwk @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @guardianofrivendell @middleearthpixie @absentmindeduniverse

^^If I've neglected any tags, please let me know, friends!

You are spoiling us!! 😍 ! Okay I wish you would write something with Boromir, maybe where he is tired and reader takes care of him :") something soft ♡

@noldorinpainter So sorry it took me long. :) Also I deviated from your request, but just a little. Hope you enjoy. Oh, in case you're interested, the songspiration was Gorod 312 - Pomogi mne - loosely, but still. The art is by The-Wizard-of-Art

Tagging @scyllas-revenge @glassgulls @lathalea @fizzyxcustard @absentmindeduniverse @court-jobi @middleearthpixie @sotwk @emmyspov @evenstaredits @guardianofrivendell @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @asgardianhobbit98 and sorry, sorry if I forgot anyone, I got lost somewhere between Discord and Tumblr.

Ok, here it is:

Before the Storm

“Your lips are softer than they look,” you lean out of the kiss unhurriedly, basking in the feeling of his breath upon you face.

“Hmm?”

“Your…lips…are…soft,” you alter your own statement – and the sense of it, too, “But only when I kiss you. Why aren’t they soft, when you kiss me?”

You don’t need the answer as much as you need to see that deceitful mouth twitch and tighten, as too predictable images float up before his mind’s eye. The sight is fleeting, yet you cherish it better than any words he could say.  

“You utter the strangest things, dove,” your Captain states with no particular expression.

His eyes are still closed. Your heart forgets how to beat, shrinking in sweet pain, as you touch the very tips of his eyelashes and stroke them as carefully as you can afford it.

“I do them, too,” you whisper more to yourself than to him.

He looks so distant, and so close, and stern, and defenseless.

The armchair by the fire is built sturdy enough to hold the weight of you, curled on his laps and clinging to his exhausted self like bindweed.  

It is unkind – wicked of you to enjoy such moments, when you have to thank his tiredness for that.

For a blissfully long sting of minutes all you can think of is how his breath becomes more and more even, tamed by the movements of your hand, running through his hair over and over again.

“I must go down.”  

“Yes, do,” you agree easily, “Nobody wants you here.”

“Shall I stay and make them?” there’s no single kind note in his voice, but the gleam in his eyes makes up for it to the full.   

You allow yourself a laugh that is more of a sigh.  

“Stay and sleep. They will look for reasons to put up with you meanwhile.”

The arm, which was up to now slack around your waist, gains strength and presses you to him too hard for a caress.

You lose yourself in another endless kiss.

“Consider this one,” offers he as evenly.

You nod, not ashamed of letting him see how you’re learning to breathe again. Lifting his spirits is worth the fear of denial in your book.

“I’ll bring you the furs,” you say, as he finally relaxes back into the tattered seat.

“No,” the protest is sharp and almost order-like.

Startled by this sudden harshness, you pull back, yet he doesn’t let you to slip away too far. It is not his embrace, but his look that stops you this time. The weariness and despair in it drive a knife through your chest, wiping out everything except your love for him – that and pity you hope he’ll never know you harbour for him.

“Please, dove,” asks he under his breath, “I need…”

“I know,” you cut in, unable to bear it any longer, “Take your rest, Boromir.”     

 His palm ghosts against your cheek in gratitude, and you wish you could shut out every emotion that comes with it. You wish for it to end and to go on.

You close your eyes, too, and dissolve in his arms, longing to be reborn into a safer world tomorrow.

With him.