Summary: Asahi overheard Noya and Tanaka talking about their future and who they’ll marry, and Asahi can’t help but imagine your future together. 

Pairing: Asahi Azumane x fem!reader

Words: 700

Requested: No, just something I had lying around for some time. 

Warning: none, just fluffy fluffy fluff

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You and Asahi have been friends, ever since you started high school. But soon you started having feelings for him. For a long time, you didn’t tell him. One day, you told him, that you liked him. And to your surprise, he liked you too. After that, you guys became a couple. The school was finally over, And Asahi was going to his after-school practice. Then you noticed his water bottle in his seat, so you decided to give it to him. You walked to the gym, and you could hear shoes squeaking against the floor. You opened the door and saw how hard the guys were working. You waited till they took a break, then you began to walk over to Asahi.

“ Hey Asahi, you forgot your water bottle in class! ” You said, with the bottle in your hand.

“ Thank you y/n, what would I do without you. ” He said and smiled.

“ I don’t know either ” You said, and kissed his cheek. His face turned red, and you just laughed.

“ Hey Asahi, who’s the cute girl? ” One of his Teammates asked. Asahi looked at his teammates, and he blushed a little.

“ Well, I guess, I should introduce you guys. ” He said.

“ Guys, this is y/n, my girlfriend. ” He said and wrapped his around you.

“ EEEHHH!? ”

“ You never told us you had a girlfriend!? ” They said shocked, you just laughed.

“ It’s nice to meet you all. ” You said, and waved at them.

“ She’s so cute, ” A male with black hair, and a blond stripe. And another male beside him.

“ Hey y/n, why don’t you stay until practice is over? ” Asahi asked you, and you agreed to his offer. You watched him with wide eyes. The practice was Soon over, and since it was Friday. Asahi decided you could stay at his place. You were waiting for him until you felt something grab your hand. You turned around, only to see Asahi smiling down at you. You smiled back, and intertwine your hand with his. You began to walk in silence, just enjoying each other’s company. There was silence until Asahi said.

“ I Love you, what would I do without you. ” Asahi said.

“ I don’t know what I would do, without you, Asahi. ” You said, and kissed his cheek. When you reached his place, you Entered and took off your jacket and shoes. Just then, Asahi swept you off your feet and held you Bridal style.

“ A-Asahi what are you- ” you didn’t have time to finish your sentence before he kissed you on the lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back. Before you knew it, you were thrown onto his bed, he crawled on top of you and started kissing again. You didn’t know what happened to Asahi, but you kinda liked it. He pulled away and said.

“ I Love you y/n, ” he said.

“ Where did All of this come from? ” You asked him.

“ I just really love you. ” He said and gave your lips a peck.

“ Okay, what happened today? ” You asked him. He sat up and started to tell you.

“ Okay. So today I overheard Noya and Tanaka talk about their future, marriage, kids, and All that. And so I started to think about you. ” He said, and you listened to him, and you began to smile.

“ I have to be honest with you, for a second I saw you in a wedding dress when you came into the gym today. ” You felt your cheeks heating Up, just thinking about it.

“ What about kids, did you think about that? ” You asked him.

“ K-Kids!? No, I didn’t think about that!? ” He said while panicking.

“ Though, a future with you does Sound like a perfect future for me. ” You said, and cuddled closer to Asahi.

“ I Love you y/n. ” He said, and hugged you closer, and kissed your forehead.

“ I Love you to Asahi. ” You said and smiled.

DYNAMIGHT ADVERTIZING.

warnings: she/her pronouns used. strong language. counter sex. size kink. tiny bit of body worship. praise n condescending comments from katsuki.
wc:1.1k
synopsis: katsuki brings home some of his newest merch for you to try on, but he definitely wasn’t expecting you to look that good in it.

katsuki knew he liked it when you wore his clothes; fuck, it was one of his favorite things, but this was different. his sweatpants that were three sizes too big on you were now replaced with tacky shorts that had ‘DYNAMIGHT’ plastered on the ass of them, topped off with a cute hoodie with his name along the sleeves. it was cheesy, you weren’t going to overlook that, but all in all, it was undeniably cute. 

katsukis signature colors adorned your body with tight-fitting fabrics that clung perfectly to your curves in a way that made him flushed and made every snarky comeback he would usually spitfire long gone.

he had brought home some of his merchandise for you to try on and take a few promo pictures in together, but that plan seemingly flew out the window when he saw you in them.

you peeked out of your shared bedroom door, fully letting yourself leave when you saw him leaning on the counter waiting for you. “katsuki,” you called his name, waiting to continue talking until he looked at you. “whaddya think? does it look good?”

his jaw fell slack when he saw you and he sucked his teeth, blood red eyes training on you. “fuck yeah it does, you kiddin me?” 

“you think so?”

“mhm, now, cmere.” he beckoned you over, sitting you up on the counter so he could stand between your legs that he held open with his hands. “you,” he began, lips ghosting over yours, “are so fucking pretty.” you adverted your eyes, and he just laughed and kept talking. “in fact, you look like you’re my biggest fan,” he teased, eyes boring into yours. 

“shut it,” you gently flicked his shoulder, a gentle laugh bubbling from your lips to hide your embarrassment. 

nonetheless, his warm hands that he placed firmly on your back were hard to ignore. you leaned into his touch, humming in content when his warm hands traveled lower, middle and ring finger tracing the elastic of the shorts. “katsuki,” you muttered his name, and he just let his eyes flicker to yours before going back to your waist, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips as his hands daunted lower. 

“huh?” 

“you jus’ gonna ignore what we’re supposed to be doing right now?” you questioned, and he let out an amused huff. 

“fuckin’, maybe?” he laughed, and you just shook your head, pretending like his calloused hands didn’t leave a trail of goosebumps on your skin while they made their way up your stomach and under your shirt. 

you tried to think of something snarky to say, but decided to settle with a quiet hymn of okay instead. he let his head rest against your shoulder while one hand traced the underwire of your bra and the other fiddled with the fabric of your shorts. “careful,” you began, “keep feeling me up like that and i might just become one of your biggest fans.” 

his sharp inhale was audible, and you failed to bite back the laugh that bubbled out of your throat. you knew he was keen on praise, but you just loved how he fell apart in your hand and turned into putty at every little comment. 

“just ‘might’?” he questioned, quirking an eyebrow. “we might have to fix that. cant have you thinking i’m anything less than the man of your dreams,” he jeered. 

“i dont know how truthful that is. guess youre gonna have to put your body to work to prove it, huh?” 

“i’m not worried. you know my money is where my mouth is, yeah?”

with that, he pressed a kiss to your neck, littering them up to your jaw. he chuckled low when you tilted your neck to give him more access. 

“want me to touch you so bad that you’re just givin’ it up, huh?” 

you whined before running a hand through his hair and scratching his scalp, to which he hummed. he sucked a hickey onto your collarbone, moving his hands and taking your bra off more expertly then you could have done it. 

“hands of a magician,” he commented, laughing at his own joke after. 

“so dumb,” you shook your head with faux dissapointment before moving to take your shirt off. he swatted your hands away, quietly tsking in the back of his throat. 

“gonna keep the shirt on for me? i wanna see how pretty you look all fucked out ‘nd representing your favorite hero. could you do that for me?” his words were dipped in honey, and you melted into each syllable. 

he grabbed the undersides of your thighs and slid you forward, pulling you off the counter just so he could bend you over it and see his hero name plastered over his girl, exactly where he wanted it. 

“glad you know who this piece of ass belongs to,” he muttered in a breathy sigh, hand massaging it with a hard pressure. “can i,” he began, letting his voice trail off with a questioning tone. it only took your meek uh-huh before he spanked you one, two, three times. “sorry, jus’ like seeing that ass jiggle,” he laughed before pulling the shorts and your panties to the side. “ready?”

“ready,” you smiled, flattening your hands on the marble countertop to try and prepare yourself. 

you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth to try and shut yourself up, breathless fuck’s spilled from your mouth as he slid into you, one hand on your lower back and the other next to yours on the counter. he let out deep groans, digging his head into the nook between your shoulder and neck once he bottomed out. you could feel his built body against yours, and you squirmed under him, silently pleading for some friction, though the stretch between your legs was serving you pleasure. 

“hold fuckin’ still,” he muttered, standing back up straight and resting on his elbows, capturing your body between his arms. 

the initial pumps were slow and tedious; teasing rolls of his hips drove you insane, and you grabbed at nothing, body feeling feverish as you plead for it; rougher, faster, deeper. 

who was katsuki to deny those demands? he couldn’t- not when your every moan and whimper sounded so pretty underneath him.  

“gonna pound you, yeah?” he asked for permission.

“yeah, please,” you arched your back into the counter some more, letting his increasingly rough spanks and thrusts swallow your conscience. 

a rough hand grasped your neck, pulling your head up from its resting space on the chilling counter. “you’re real lucky to be fucked by the dynamight, huh?” he jeered, and you nodded. “what’s that?”

“i am!” your voice shrilled, embarrassment and desperation entangling. 

“thats fuckin’ right, you are,” he huffed, biting his lip. you could feel the countertops growing hot next to where his hands were planted, and you couldn’t help but attempt to dully note how much he lost his exposure when he was using you. “you’re so fuuckin’good.”

reblogs appreciated!

Warming Up

Ship: Yanfei x AFAB!reader

Genre: Smut (a little hurt comfort)

Trigger/Content Warnings:NSFW, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, Hypothermia trope, reader is selective mute and uses sign, reader also works at a bar, pre-established relationship, first aid gone sexual, Yanfei has some reptilian/adepti traits so like ¼ monster fucking maybe??, cunillingus(receiving), fingering(receiving)

Word Count:1.8k

Masterlist:Happy Holidays ;)

It was a cruel trek from the bar you worked at back to your home in Liyue and unfortunately, your transportation options did not include the niceties of “weather permitting” options. In your hands was a neatly wrapped box of liquors your boss had given you for being such a charming worker despite being of so little words, especially while working a holiday shift. The bottles clanged in an obnoxious high-pitched clamor when you stepped up the cobblestone stairs to the street next to yours, causing your sound-sensitive self to flinch violently. Unfortunately this only caused the bottles to rattle more and you internally cursed yourself at becoming the source of such a loathsome ruckus. Your jaw unconsciously grits as you change your grasp of the box.

It was unfairly cold this year. You didn’t expect the temperature to drop so severely and you hated the involuntary shivers that rippled through your body at the windchill. It had to be significantly below freezing…

You encouraged yourself internally that things would be fine once you got home to your girlfriend. She always had this wonderful habit of greeting you with a generous and loving smile that warmed your heart. She was also the fortunate holder of a vision- a Pyro vision, specifically. Normally you would be scared to interact with someone who could probably burn your house down if they sneezed the wrong way, but Yanfei was different. She always executed the utmost care regarding her vision and knew the local law by heart. That second part was no surprise considering her career in law, but her personality wasn’t the stereotypical droll of a lawyer. She never seemed focused on the Mora of the job, but rather wanting to keep the area where you two lived a peaceful area. When she had told you about her ideals months prior, you felt your heart warm at the thought. She’s beautiful inside andout…

Yanfei also never minded your silence. While there were awkward moments, she never seemed to hold it against you or address them. Rather instead she picked up sign language to talk with you.

“You can speak with this, right? If not I can figure something else out,” the pinkette grinned at you, starting to sign a broken sentence. You, who’d known sign for a couple years at this point, tried to disguise your smile.

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

You didn’t have the heart to inform her that instead of what she meant to sign, she signed “How was fuck?”

You smiled unconsciously remembering your girlfriend’s inquisitive face and how it warped once you wrote to her what she actually said. Her eyes widened significantly past her normally sleepy expression and her hands shot up in an apologetic gesture, as if she were afraid she offended you. You loved that woman so much.

The area around you blurred a bit. It felt as if you hadn’t had enough to eat yet today. Only a bit longer until you’d make it home, you could do this. Think positively! It honestly wasn’t that bad out.

… how long had you been out in this weather? You vaguely realized your arms were locked around the box of booze in a vice you don’t think you could easily move. Fortunately your blood still ran hot in your legs and you kept walking.

Your hands grew paler during your walk and the edges of your knuckles burnt an uncanny red, like a sunburn. Your legs kept moving.

The breath began to burn going in and out of your windpipe. Your pulse hammered harder. Yet your legs kept moving.

Each crunch of your feet crushing snow beneath you spurred you on with the thought that you would make it home soon to your girlfriend, that she would greet you with that smile from her desk then wrap you up in her arms in a gentle hug and you’d spend the rest of your holiday with the woman you loved most…

A door was thrown open and you were abruptly pulled inside. You vaguely recognized the lights around you before the sound of the box in your hands crashing to the floor nearly stopped your heart. Your head became too warm and mushy to understand what was going on, and your vision blurred even more severely.

╞══════════╡

Blearily, your eyes opened to the view of your living room ceiling. The first notable thing was how much your knuckles, nose and fingertips stung. It was like they were horribly scraped, though upon lifting your hand to examine, you found there were no such wounds. Rather instead they were just a chapped red and slightly flaky. Your gaze followed your hand and you became slowly aware that you were no longer wearing your shirt, instead being as naked as the day you were born. You glanced down at the rest of your body and the sight before you caused your heart to leap into your throat.

First,yes, you were naked past your top.

Second, Yanfei was curled on top of you, sleepy face mushed against your chest and ambiently providing warmth to thaw you out.

Thirdly, there was a blanket over the two of you, most likely to trap the heat Yanfei was producing for you.

Fourth, your beloved girlfriend was definitely not wearing clothes. You could spy the tops of her breasts and the bare smooth skin of her arms as they peeled out from under the blanket, but otherwise, the blanket hid both your modesty quite well.

When her head tilted absentmindedly in her sleep, you felt a sharp jab. You glanced at Yanfei again, noticing what you thought was a hair accessory or some weird form of jewelry was poking you mercilessly. It didn’t bend like jewelry and it was so hard…? The hell is that…?

You tentatively traced the oddly keratin-like appendage poking you. The smooth texture reminded you of when your family would hunt and clean Cervids- the way the antlers would feel in your hand as you cleaned them as a long-lasting reward from your kill.

As your thumb traced over the ivory once more, sleepy teal green eyes blinked awake. Upon seeing your conscious face, Yanfei smiled gratefully.

“Oh, thank everything… you’re okay.” She leaned her head into your touch, unconsciously warming you even more as she gazed lovingly into your eyes.

You didn’t speak, but signed “I wasn’t aware you had antlers.”

Your signing was slow and deliberate so as to be easy to interpret for a beginner. She grinned cheekily.

“I thought you knew. They don’t move around, they’re attached to my head.”

“You act like I have solid logical thinking.”

She laughs at your comment, then nuzzles her cheeks further into your chest.

“I was so worried when you came in looking the way you did. You were all frost nipped and out of it, so I did what any reasonable person would do and started treating you. You’re lucky I know that much.” Her closing comment sounded like it should’ve had bite, but her tone was simply caring and pleased at the warmth of your body against hers, not unlike a lazy cat who was spoiled by their owner.

“You’re naked underneath the blanket.”

“So I am,” she replied casually, as if it were normal for you two to be cuddling naked. It wasn’t, for clarification.

Your face heated up as her whole body now shifted against you, savoring the feeling. You definitely felt the peaks of her nipples against your chest, the smooth firmness of her belly, and the supple flesh of her thighs which were interspersed with occasional patches of hard yet smooth-surfaced scales. She watched you with an unwavering affection.

“[Name], I want to do things with you, but you should really rest. Your body temperature dipped quite a bit… So why don’t you let me take care of you while you recover?” She cooed and stroked the side of your cheek. She never sacrificed tenderness for her point with you, though- she knew to always say her piece but also express unsaid love if she couldn’t say it in that sentence alone.

Trusting your girlfriend completely, you nod your consent.

Her upper body dips below the covers and she traces a path down your sternum, then re-traces it with her whip-like tongue. She left a burning trail between the racks of you rib cage, causing a building ache to throb deep in your gut.

You lifted the blanket to watch Yanfei as she hovered above your sex, her emerald eyes glossing over each fold and crease. You shivered in muted pleasure when she ran a finger through the dampness that had just began to pool.

“Your reactions are so cute,” she puffed out a hot breath, only causing your body to writhe further and a needy whimper left your lips. Your face grew redder at the sound you’d made and, as if synchronized, Yanfei flushed more as well. She’d never heard your needy sounds, but now that she’d heard you for the first time there was no way she could go back.

Her adept and thin fingers skimmed your outer labia and dipped in to savor the soft flesh of your clit. She stroked slow deliberate circles and watched you with a confident yet sweet smile.

You keened and your hips stuttered at the suffocating arousal she was weaving into your consciousness. She pulled her fingers from your over-sensitive nub and instead pressed further down, sinking a finger in your expecting cunt. The movement was slick and with little resistance. Yanfei cooed into your heat.

“So good for me, you’re nice and ready…” with those last words, she tilted her head down so her mouth engulfed your sex. Her serpent-like tongue twisted along your clit and her finger moved in balanced and quick pumping motions in and out of you, building up a quick tempo.

Her orchestrated movements controlled your body like a puppet, bringing your whimpers to a wail-like crescendo and building you up to your high. Amidst your whining, you became vaguely aware of how her eyes glowed hungrily beneath you, thriving off of the sounds and movement of your body as if it were her lifeblood.

She crooked her fingers up and began to abuse a ridged spot within you that had you seeing stars. You gripped onto her hair and one of her antlers unconsciously. Your body drew taut with an orgasm at the half-moan she let out. Your breath had been robbed from your lungs blatantly and you laid there, gasping for air as your body shivered in the after-effects.

Yanfei crawled out from under the covers fully, giving you a borderline sly smirk.

“Let’s get you some food and maybe if you’re up for it, you can do me next?” She wiped her mouth against the back of her and, eyes glowing with anticipation.

Want me some more holiday spirit?

monstersandmaw:

My small contribution to Orctober…

Male orc, afab reader, light nsfw, mention of pegging…

The mug slipped from your hand and sloshed into the washing up bowl, sluicing a small tide of suds and water over the edge and down your T-shirt.

“You want me to what?”

“Not if you don’t want to, obviously…” he blurted, his already dark green cheeks flushing a deeper shade.

You turned and, in the blink of an eye, closed the three steps between you and the hulking, seven foot orc in the kitchen doorway, and placed your hands on his hips.

You watched his throat work as he swallowed, earthy brown eyes sliding away to bore a hole in the kitchen lino flooring.

“Tell me I heard you right, darling…?” you said softly, and he flushed again.

After rubbing gentle arcs across his hip bones with your thumbs where you still stood anchored to him, you looked up into his gorgeous, gentle face and finally found his gaze on you.

“I want you to peg me,” he mumbled around his huge tusks. “I want you to make me come like that.”

“Come here first,” you grinned and pulled him down into a kiss so fierce it took him off guard.

His hands grabbed your hips a moment later, and he hoisted you easily up to hug his waist with your thighs before growling low in his throat and backing you up against the wall.

“You’ll do it?” he asked between kisses.

“Darling, it would be my pleasure,” you beamed back.

—-

It’s not much but I hope you like it all the same. Happy Orctober, friends.

ChapterOne

Medieval!AU

“Letters are signs of things, symbols of words, whose power is so great that without a voice they speak to us the words of the absent” - Isidore of Saville

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader (AFAB, she/her pronouns)

Rating:Teen 

Warnings:Violence, gore, peril, period-typical classism

Author’s Note: Reader in this series will be based in part on the lives of both Margaret, Duchess of Norfolk and Margaret Paston. This story is set in medieval England, but I have done my best to keep her physical features vague, and as the story progresses her background will hopefully help lend to self-insertion. This will be up on my AO3 in a bit - more historical notes will be left there. Enjoy!

Word Count:2.6k

He comes in the night, on the back of a horse with flared nostrils and hooves that shake the earth.

Your small village is not one to receive frequent visitors, tucked away in the dense woods as it is. In the landscape’s soft bosom, green and quiet, the hunter is a stranger who cannot go unnoticed. He rides through every few months, takes a room at the inn, and departs before the next morning’s first birdsong. Voices hush as he enters the tavern and deposits his coin on the counter. The only villager to have spoken to him is the barkeep, a man with eyes almost as shrewd as the hunter’s.

Even his name evokes chaos. Din. Like the roar of a crowd, the clamor of voices and bodies and metal that exists in the deep recesses of your memory. Swords clashing, men yelling, blood spilt on muddy cobblestones. 

When the hunter rides through, the women whisper. Some say their cousins in York have seen him slice a man’s head clean off his shoulders. Others say their fathers knew him as a boy, that there was a time when he was kind and fair. The men claim to have taken him in combat, to have scarred him, that the chain around their necks was torn from beneath the hunter’s cotte.

The hunter passes through like smoke on the wind, seen but for a moment, the smell remaining long after he departs.

Tonight the evening is cool and bright. The sun seems as though it refuses to dip behind the trees, keeping the earth golden and mischievous much later than usual. It is for this reason that the townsfolk are taken by surprise at the appearance of the hunter when they are still working. Their heads turn as he passes, watching the hunter, seeing that he does not stop at the tavern.

Tonight, Din Djarin points his horse’s nose down a different path. He rides towards the estate that sits a small distance from the town, across the river, through thick forest and open farmland.

The family in the manor across the river has lived there since it was built nearly two hundred years ago. Constructed in the Norman style of imposing gray stone, it’s a cold, uninviting structure meant more to be the placeholder of a conqueror than a place where someone might live. An outer wall, fortified at the corners by circular towers, protects the inner sanctuary from attack. It’s relatively small, but it projects an air of nobility and royal favour all the same. Clearly, the family who live here are well-off and have been for some time. 

As Din guides his steed towards the building, he sees that it is bustling with activity. Fires burn in the narrow, arched windows and sentries keep watch outside the gates. Smoke rises from within and distantly, so faint he might have missed it if he weren’t who he is, Din can hear the sound of an instrument being played.

It is clear that much business is conducted here. The hunter would be surprised if that weren’t the case, given the flurry of activity present at all Norman strongholds across the island. A young boy rides past him as he approaches, carrying a leather satchel that likely holds letters to someone in the vast country beyond.

Upon his arrival, Din tells the guards his business and dismounts from his horse. He leads her through the front gate and into the inner courtyard where the main house is situated. The mare, called Crest, is one of his most beloved possessions, so he cannot help but watch as a stable boy takes her reins and walks her over to a hitching post. She begins to graze.

Inside, the castle is distinctly colder than the air outside. The walls are adorned with thick, delicately woven tapestries, and the ceiling is painted in bright reds and golds. A young woman approaches and beckons Din to follow, eyes downcast and hair hidden beneath a white veil that falls to the middle of her back. They pass through several doorways, up a winding set of stairs, and down a long, echoing hallway before the woman pauses at the very last door.

She knocks thrice, in quick succession. From inside, a voice calls out, inviting the two of them in.

Your back is turned to the handmaiden and your guest when they walk through the door and into the drawing room. Through the window beside your writing table you can see out onto the grounds below. Outside, two of the guards are engaged in conversation, smiling and laughing between themselves. Though a fire roars bright and hot just beside you, a cold feeling overcomes you and your hands clench where they’re interlaced over your midsection.

“The hunter, Din Djarin, milady.”

The door squeaks and slams shut again, closing you in with this famed, mysterious hunter. He’s silent behind you and it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You let the silence continue for a moment, interrupted only by the sound of burning logs, before you turn to face him.

He stands there, hip cocked, a gloved hand on the pommel of his sword. His hair is mussed and his beard grows sparse on his jaw. He looks at you from under the ridge of his brow, the whites of his eyes gleaming in the firelight.

“How lucky am I, that the mysterious hunter would answer my call,” you quip, meeting his dark gaze head-on. You don’t fear him like the villagers do - this meeting can only go one way, which leaves no room for preconceived ideas of who this man is.

He raises a brow. “I mean you no insult, my Lady, but I was under the impression I was to meet with the Lord of the house tonight.”

That makes you smile. Of course he would assume such a thing. “No, I am afraid it was I who summoned you, and with myself alone you will discuss the forthcoming matters.”

His jaw works for a moment. “Your husband,” he begins, speaking carefully, knowing the line he’s treading close to, “does he know I am here, at your request?”

“Yes.” Whether he approves is another matter, but the hunter needn’t know that. 

He considers this. "What are the matters you summoned me here to discuss, madam?”

You purse your lips, lifting your head, setting your posture out of habit. The light in the room has shifted; the sun is now below the horizon, so the space grows darker as only the firelight illuminates your faces. 

“The Lord is currently away on business, tending to his late uncle’s affairs in the south. He is not due back for some time.“ You meet his gaze to underscore the seriousness of your next words.  "There have been five attempts on my life since my husband departed. I have reason to suspect they were all orchestrated by the same group, though none of my knights have been able to track them down. I called you here to offer you substantial payment in return for their heads.”

The hunter shifts his weight. He looks off to the side, staring beyond the parchment lying blank on your desk. You watch his face closely as he considers your words. Lines appear between and above his brows, and his lips turn down at the corners. 

You can tell he’s thinking about it, so you sweeten the pot, so to say.

“I can pay you one-third the reward up front for each man you pursue, and the rest once I have confirmation that they are dead.”

“I don’t work for hire, madam.”

You scoff. “Do you take me for a fool, Din Djarin?”

His eyes meet yours and something in them softens, ever so slightly. Outside, someone shouts, followed by raucous laughter. 

“No, madam. I collect bounties placed on criminals by the crown, not by private individuals. No matter how pressing the issue may be.“

The words make you bristle; they border on disrespect, suggesting that he is a man beholden to no one rather than a subject who regularly passes through your lands uninhibited. To act as though he is too good to collect your reward, despite not even knowing what it is. You tilt your head, clasping your hands behind your back.

Clearly this man knows not the implications of what he says. You should have expected as much from someone with his background, or lack thereof.

"Iam the crown in every way that concerns someone of your standing, hunter. If you do not need the coin, then say as much. But do not let your frivolous self-imposed rules inflate your ego beyond your name.”

That makes the hunter narrow his eyes. He takes a step forward, his broad shoulders looming over you, as though he intends to intimidate you into simply accepting what he just said. No, you think to yourself, not moving an inch, I am not a woman who can be bullied into obedience. You lift your chin so as to more easily look him in the eye.

“How quickly the lady of the house forgets her roots,” he mutters.

The fire of anger within you roars to life, brighter and hotter than that which warms your faces. You feel your mouth curl down into an ugly sneer, eyes widening in shock. How darehe! 

Just as you’re opening your mouth to assure him of his imminent demise at the hands of one of your guards, a commotion can be heard approaching quickly in the hallway beyond the door. Footsteps, many pairs of them, all running, overlapped by the sounds of indiscernible shouting. You and the hunter forget for a moment your quarrel and each turn to look at the door.

“My Lady!" 

The voice is that of your handmaiden. She sounds terrified, her words nearly screams as they echo through the stone walls of your castle. On instinct you step back, positioning the hunter between yourself and the door.

Another scream, this one cut too short. Men holler and then the door rattles violently. You catch a glimpse of the hunter drawing his sword before you’re diving towards your desk, frantically searching for the item you know lies in one of its drawers.

You can hear as the wooden door swings and slams against the stone wall beside it. Your fingers find the handle of your dagger and you spin around just in time to catch sight of the hunter’s sword slicing a man’s stomach clean through. Another attacker launches himself at you. Meaty hands grab at your arms and shoulders, the seams of your dress tearing under blunt, bloody nails. The length of your dagger finds one of the gaps between his ribs and he slumps, his breathing gone ragged and shallow and weak.

As you yank your dagger out of the man’s side you look up and see that the hunter has taken down two more men and is occupied with a third, their swords locked crosswise together. The attacker, who you belatedly recognize as one of the guards who was stationed outside the gate not an hour ago, shifts his stance and presses forward, his blade inching closer to the hunter’s face.

Din Djarin grunts and, in a move you’ve never seen the likes of before, uses his sword to twist the other right out of the man’s hands. He shifts his grip and, fast as a streak of lightning, brings the gleaming steel down on the attacker’s delicate neck.

The silence that follows is interrupted only by your shared, labored breathing. The hunter stoops to wipe his bloodied sword on the fabric of the headless man’s tunic, then stands and faces you. 

You grit your teeth, standing up straight, dagger still firmly gripped in your hand. 

"Thank you,” you tell him. He nods once.

“Gather your things,” he says, as though it’s the most obvious statement in the world. He begins searching through the men’s clothing, emptying their pockets of coin and small weapons.

You balk. “Excuse me?”

“Gather your things,” he repeats, “we don’t have much time. There could be more approaching as we speak, we must go.”

“We? I am not going anywhere with you, you… you…”

The hunter looks up at you with tired eyes. “Then you will die.”

It is so blunt, so honest, that your mouth snaps shut with the realization that he’s right. You look around the room - a space that was once a haven for you to execute your duties as a noble woman is now littered with the bodies of traitors. This place can no longer guarantee your safety, not when the very men charged with protecting you were the ones to nearly kill you.

A strand of hair has come untucked from your wimple and veil. You feel it brushing your forehead, out of place and irksome. With a trembling hand, you reach up and tuck it away under the white linen that marks you a married woman.

“Very well.”

There are only a few things you know you must bring: your Bible, a wooden box filled with coin, your mother’s ring, and an extra set of garments. You decide at the last moment to pack your parchment, wax, stamp, and writing implements, just in case.

Din Djarin walks with long, determined strides, sure-footed without room for question. Keeping pace beside him, you avert your eyes when you pass the body of your handmaiden; she was one of few kindnesses you were allowed in this place, and to see her light snuffed out like that of a candle would surely test your resolve more than anything else you’ve been through today. You follow the hunter down the stairs and out into the main foyer, where the grand front doors stand wide open. As you step through them, you close them behind you. You’ll have to write to someone - anyone, but most likely your husband’s brother, who lives the nearest of any of the family - to ask that they look after the estate. That they clean up the mess you’ve left behind.

It sours your heart to think of the damage you’re causing the family, running off in the night like this, but if you stay any longer you’ll surely be killed. Especially if you’re alone, without guards.

Shutting and locking the doors must do for now.

Outside, all is quiet. A horse grazes on the lawn; you assume this must be his, for you’ve never seen the buckskin mare before. You immediately make your way to the stables, where your beloved stallion should be waiting. The ink-black horse, called Voyager, has been in your care since he was a colt. His temper is volatile with everyone except you and it’s a small comfort knowing your companion will come along.

You saddle the horse with as much haste as you can manage, securing your belongings inside the leather saddlebags. Then, though your skirts limit your mobility somewhat, you mount Voyager and guide him out of the stables.

Djarin is waiting near the outer gates. He sits upon his horse with a hand on his hip, watching you. Though his expression remains stony, something in his posture tells you he’s surprised to see you so comfortable in the saddle.

“What?” you ask, though it comes out a bit more defensive than you intended. “Surely you didn’t think I spent all my waking hours in that dreadful tower, did you?”

The hunter says nothing. There’s a beat, a moment of silence drawn out too long, and then he takes the reins in one hand and turns towards the path that leads away from your home. You’ll have to cut through the forest to avoid the village, even though night has fallen, to avoid any chance of anyone seeing the two of you leaving together.

As you follow your reluctant protector away from your home, away from the monument to the family you married into not long ago, you do not turn and look back.