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kingdaddydaichi · 3 months

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WHEN HE GOES FERAL OVER YOUR SCENT ✮⋆˙ ft. daichi sawamura x f!reader

✮⋆˙ warnings/notes: nsfw. MDNI. oral (f. rcv'ing). (implied) squirting. 850-ish words. the way i had to take my socks off while writing this bc it got so hot all of a sudden idk why?? i had to cover my mouth while editing to muffle all the funny noises that kept spilling out without warning.

DAICHI goes absolutely feral when he smells you...

you’ve been making out for a few minutes when your boyfriend pushes your shirt up and pulls your bra down, letting your tit spill out into his warm, waiting hand before lowering his mouth to your nipple. it quickly buds against his tongue, a soft gasp escaping you as you watch his lips wrap around it, a light blush dusting the tops of daichi’s cheeks when they hollow to suckle at your breast.

his breath is hot against your skin as he travels further south, down down down until his face is just a couple of inches away from your heat. he’s been such a gentleman up to this point, slow and tender. but when his slow hands spread your thighs apart, he catches your scent and fwoohf - his carnal switch flips and a pearl of precum wets his underwear as something inside him snaps.

you yelp at the sheer force when he tugs your bottoms off, your sopping wet panties included, his urgent strength lifting your hips off the bed. your legs, which he’d yanked straight up into the air, fall back down, gracing his shoulders and you swear you hear him growl. he’s breathing you in, tasting your flavor on the back of his tongue before he’s even licked you.

“you- the way you smell…” there's an edge to his voice that makes you shiver.

before you have a chance to feel self-conscious about his words, daichi’s tongue is eagerly lapping at your inner thighs. you try sitting up to watch him but fall back against the pillow again with a loud sigh when his hungry mouth finds your folds and he begins to feed.

his hot, wet tongue darts out of his mouth to prod at your swollen clit before running the length of your entire slit. your hands shake as your fingers curl into his short, brown hair. he dips his tongue into your tight hole, moaning against you when he tastes the source of your scent. his wet muscle pulls out and abandons your opening, but your desperate whine leans into one of sheer pleasure when his thick fingertip pushes past your rim while his tongue swipes its way back up to suckle at your clit. your trembling thighs close around his head as his finger sinks deeper inside you, massaging your soft, slippery walls. daichi’s breath is hot and damp on your cunt when he groans, his deep voice sending delicious vibrations through your whole body as he rolls your clit around the tip of his tongue. he’s savoring you, his thick cock straining painfully against the mattress as he drinks you down. “oh fuck, hhhn~” his lips form a seal around your clit and he begins to suck in earnest, the suction drawing your hard bud into his mouth, rubbing it against the tastebuds on his pulsing tongue. “dai- i’m- hah~”

he adds a second finger, curling both of them inside you, finding that rough sweet spot that makes your hips jerk, stretching you, preparing you for his uncompromising girth. he doesn’t even realize he’s rutting his hips into the bed, his deep groans tumbling into you. his nose is buried in your mound as he devours your cunt, breathing in more of your feminine musk like a man starved for air.

“oh god, please…daichi!” a million fires blaze inside you all at once and you feel a warm release as your walls convulse around his finger. you fill your lover’s mouth, his eyes closed and brow furrowed in determination to swallow every last drop of you. it’s what he’s worked so hard for, what he’s wanted - no, needed - so badly this whole time.

daichi releases you with a wet slurp, his chin shiny with your slick. he raises to his knees between your legs, watching you. you've never before seen his eyes so fierce. he peels his shirt off, leaving his torso naked. your eyes could appreciate so many things: the small patch of hair on his broad heaving chest, his strong abs and sculpted v-line, the trail of dark hair that disappears somewhere below the waistline of his pants. but what they settle on is daichi’s hands unbuckling his belt and working his pants open.

you reach out to touch the strained bulge in his boxers, the darker skin within peeking through the hole. he sighs and watches open-mouthed as you pull his rigid cock out, stroking the warm, silky skin over his rock hard shaft, wrapping your legs around his waist and digging your heels into the thick muscle of his butt to urge him closer.

he pushes his underwear down, his meaty penis disappearing inside his boxers again before springing out over the waistband. he’s so painfully hard, his tip an angry shade of red as he towers over you, strong arms caging you in with your legs spread before him, so welcoming.

“need to fuck you,” he slurs, pussy drunk and feral. “need to fill you up…”

"take it, dai. take what you need. s'all yours, baby~"

your walls flutter in anticipation when he guides his precum-slicked cockhead to your slit, rubbing it between your slippery folds, getting himself as wet as possible before pushing his blunt tip through your tight ring of muscle. he sinks in slowly with a long guttural growl, relief washing over him with every satiating inch.

daichi m.list ✮⋆˙ haikyuu m.list

✮⋆˙ thank you for reading. i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i did writing it. 18+ reblogs/comments/follows/likes always welcome and appreciated !!

#king daddy daichi 👑#daichi #daichi sawamura #daichi x reader #daichi sawamura x reader #daichi x f!reader #daichi sawamura x f!reader #daichi x you #daichi sawamura x you #daichi x y/n #daichi sawamura x y/n #daichi smut #daichi sawamura smut #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #daichi x fem!reader #daichi sawamura x fem!reader

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nex-is-sleeping · 1 year

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Happy Valentines Day !

This post will be my Valentine's special, a huge load of headcanons for a lot of Sonic characters and maybe a little fic, idk- But without further ado, Lets go !!!

Sonic

•He would be really excited for Valentine's !!!

•The pet names he'd use are love/babe/baby

•Sonic is the type to take you out, like on a little romantic picnic.

•He'll make sure to bring your favorite food and drink ! And for himself obviously some Chili Dogs and Pepsi (His favorite drink is Pepsi bc I said so)

•After, You two will lay down and look at the clouds ! Or, if it's night, stargaze !!

•Today he will be spoiling you and you have no way of stopping him.

•He'd lavish you with compliments and affection

•"God, how did I end up with such a beautiful, handsome, pretty, amazing, and overall perfect partner ?"

•"I love you so much, babe !!!!"

•As I said before, it's puppy love 24/7 with Sonic

•He just loves you so so much- like he would do nearly anything for you.

Tails

•He'd be so stressed out to be honest 😭

•The petnames he'd use are darling/hun/honey

•Tails just wouldn't know what to do for you.

•So, he went to his best friend, Sonic, for help !

•Sonic wasn't much help either.

•In the end, he would make this mechanical heart that would open up, and inside the words are "I love you, Y/n !"

•Please compliment him on it !! He worked really hard on it and tried to make it perfect. Perfect is the only thing you deserve, nothing less !

Knuckles

•Knuckles would have so many ideas !

•The petnames he'd use for you are babe/hun/sweetie/love

•You two could perhaps go to the theater ?

•Or or, a movie night at home !

•You two ended up at home, watching your favorite movie with your favorite snacks and drinks.

•Knuckles argued with the characters in the T.V. can you blame him ? They where going the wrong way !

•After the movie was over, you two built a pillow fort, and ended up sleeping together in it- JSKDKFKG

Amy

•SHES BEEN PLANNING FOR WEEKS OMFG

•The petnames she'd use are love/darling

•Amy loves Valentine's day and it's also her favorite holiday !!

•She'd bake you your favorite pastry

•She had to make sure it was perfect ! Every little detail mattered if it was going to be given to you !

•She'd also spoil you- She would give you tons of presents !

•Not only with gifts though, with compliments too !

•"I love you so so so soooo much, darling !!"

•"I wouldn't trade you for the world !"

•She truly means everything she says and loves you with all of her heart <3

Silver

•He'd take you out to a nice restaurant for sure !!

•The petnames Silver would call you are darling/my love/baby/sweets

•He'd take you to his favorite, Olive Garden he lives off of those breadsticks

•Order whatever you want ! It's his treat !!

•Silver will pay. No matter how much you insist, even if it's just a penny.

•You make him so nervous, but it's the best kind !

•He'd definitely sneak a bite off of your plate

•If you got spaghetti, he'd try to do the lady and the tramp thing, yk when they both eat one pasta noodle and end up kissing ? (He'd miserably fail)

•He'd give you so many kisses anyways ! Why ? Because you deserve it, dummy !!

Blaze

•I headcanon her as aro, so I don't have much for her, sorry 😭

•Her petnames for you would be love/darling/treasure

•You guys always spend the day together on Valentine's because that's actually the day she asked you out !

•Her love language is gift giving, so be prepared to be overloaded with gifts-

•But her top thing is flowers ! All in purple, white, and in your favorite color !

Shadow

•He'd prefer something just you and him

•His petnames for you are My Love/Babe/Starshine

•Shadow LOOVES cooking, but doesn't admit it.

•He'll surprise you with a dinner he made himself !

•Saying everything was perfect was an understatement to say the least, I mean, why wouldn't he make the best dinner for his love ?

•You will catch him several times throughout dinner staring at you

•"Why wouldn't I stare at the prettiest thing in the world ?"

(I MADE MYSELF SO FLUSTERED WRITING THAT LINE AAA)

•He literally did everything for you that day

Rouge

•You two would have a date at home !

•Her petnames for you are sweetheart/babe/baby/jewel

•She would put on a playlist that she herself made

•And you two would slow dance together !

•She really wanted to do something that involved in you two getting close together, her love language is physical touch after all

•She did that little dip at the end of the playlist and kissed you, and WOAH

•"I had such a fun time tonight, my jewel, we should do this more often <3"

•You two ended up cuddling the rest of the night

And that's all !! I really do hope you all enjoyed ! Have a great Valentine's day !!! And remember to request !!!

#sonic #sonic writes #headcanons #x reader #sonic x reader #tails #tails x reader #knuckles #knuckles x reader #Amy rose #amy x reader #silver #silver x reader #princess blaze #blaze x reader #shadow #shadow x reader #rouge #rouge x reader

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chrysochroma · 3 months

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within your walls (desire, desire, till there’s nothing left of me)

@febuwhump 2024: Day 2: solitary confinement

@badthingshappenbingo : locked in a freezer (card is at the end)

Rating: Teen And Up

Words: 2,367

Fandom: Hermitcraft

Warnings: Kidnapping, Torture, Human Experimentation, Unethical Experimentation, Temporary Character Death

Read on Ao3

the title is from Strangler Fig by the Crane Wives

this is inspired by @aquaquadrant and @lunarcrown ‘s Hels to Pay AU and From Eden by aquaquadrant.

i highly suggest you read that first bc it is both amazing and the context is helpful

this is the link to aquaquadrant’s From Eden master post

this is also inspired by this piece of art by lunarcrown

as well as lunarcrown’s orginal comic

anyways, enjoy some pain and suffering :)

Deep inside the Hels Tek facility, Tango stood, claws dripping with redstone dust, in front of a grid of circuitry.

The machine Dr. Atlas had sent him to repair wasn’t too complicated, in fact it wasn’t much of a challenge at all. It was just as simple as replacing a few components with the ones the circuit required and drawing a few more lines of redstone dust. The mechanism felt reminiscent of a puzzle you might give a toddler—Tango felt that all he was doing was placing the different shaped blocks in their corresponding holes—but he figured that it was just a test to see what he knows, which didn’t surprise him. This was like his entrance exam before being hired to work at Hels, he supposed. It explained why Dr. Atlas always seemed to be just a few feet away, no matter where they were. Tango hoped that that was a good sign.

A voice came from behind him. “Very nice.”

Tango jumped and spun around to come face to face with Dr. Atlas. “Oh! Doctor, didn’t see ya there. I finished fixing this thing for you,” He gestured at the contraption behind him.

Atlas took his eyes off Tango and studied his repair job instead, as Tango continued to talk.

“It wasn’t too hard, a few things were in the wrong places but that’s pretty much it.” He turned around to look back at his work.

“I see,” Atlas responded, somewhat distracted. His eyes had locked back onto the swirling crown of blaze rods floating above Tango’s head, and he reached into his lab coat.

“So, do you have anything else for me to do?” Tango fiddled with a spare comparator as he spoke.

Atlas stepped closer. “I think that you’ll be very beneficial to us here at Hels Tek.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Dr. Atlas.” Tango spoke, still focused on his redstone.

“So am I.”

Tango felt a sharp prick on his neck, and before he could turn to see what it was from, his legs gave out from under him and his vision went black.

A numbing chill spread through Tango’s bones as his eyes slowly opened. His mind was racing but his breathing was sluggish, muscles slowed by the cold. His senses seemed dulled—whether it was because of whatever knocked him unconscious or yet another effect of the raw, sharp iciness he was surrounded by, Tango didn’t know.

He was laying on the floor, staring up at a plain, white ceiling, dotted with glowstone lamps. They cast a warm yellow over the room, providing Tango with a false sense of warmth that he wished was real. He started to sit up, then immediately noticed an unfamiliar weight on his wrists and neck. The deep jangle of chains being dragged along the floor pulled him even further out of unconsciousness.

“Good morning, Mr. Tango.”

Tango’s eyes snapped up to see Dr. Atlas writing something into a small notebook. The pair made eye contact through the wall of glass separating them, and Atlas smiled. Tango tried to push himself up onto his feet, his arms trembling, but nearly fell onto his face instead. (He glanced up to see Atlas watching him fail to adjust to his lack of energy, then write something down.) His arms, his legs, his brain all seemed to betray him as he struggled to stand, but finally, he forced himself to do so. The heavy iron chains that connected to his collar and shackles and kept him tethered to the ground seemed to drag him back down, but he stood and looked Atlas in the eye.

“Hey, Atlas.” He called out. “What is this?” His voice was filled with confusion and frustration, but overall much less fear than there should’ve been.

“Your new assignment,” Atlas responded.

“Uh, no, thanks. What even-“ He looked around for a second, cutting himself off as he stared into the solid white room beyond the glass box he was trapped in. “What is this?” He repeated.

Atlas snapped his notebook shut and tucked it into one of the pockets of his lab coat. “Like I said, your new assignment, where you will be staying. Indefinitely.”

Tango frowned. “Yeah, no, let me out.” He looked down at the new jumpsuit he was wearing. “And where are my clothes?”

Atlas didn’t respond.

“Hey!” Tango raised his voice. “Let me out of-“ He stepped forward and the chain attached to his collar pulled taut, momentarily choking him. Hurriedly, he stepped back, coughing.

Dr. Atlas stepped up to the glass door, then punched a code into the keypad mounted on the wall next to it. The door opened with a click and Atlas stepped inside, followed by two other Hels Tek employees, who moved to stand on either side of him. Tango’s eyes flitted around the room, trying to keep track of all three at once. Then, Atlas nodded, and the other scientists stepped up, each grabbing one of Tango’s arms. Tango’s muscles tensed up—at least as much as they could—and he pulled against the scientists restraining him. Still, they held him fast, not much effort required.

Atlas stepped forward, reached up, grabbed one of Tango’s blaze rods, and yanked. The blaze rod sizzled, leaving a trail of sparks behind it, but it came loose from Tango’s crown and smoldered in Atlas’s hand. He brought it up to eye level to inspect it—golden, shining, smoking, and most of all, valuable.

Tango gasped in pain, but quickly regained his composure and continued to pull away from the scientists, while glaring at Atlas.

“Hey! Stop it! You can’t do that!”

Dr. Atlas tucked Tango’s blaze rod into his lab coat, then looked back at Tango. “Yes I can.”

The two scientists pushed Tango down, forcing him to his knees. He pulled against their grip with all his strength, but couldn’t do anything to stop them as they pushed him closer and closer to the ground, until he was on his stomach, his face pressed up against the concrete. One of them pinned his wrists behind his back, and the other held his neck against the ground until they had him under their control.

“Guys, hey-!” Tango protested.

Atlas leaned down, fixated on Tango’s swirling crown, then plucked each of the blaze rods out of orbit, one by one. Tango felt each and every one of them leave their place, their absence feeling like a pit in his heart.

“C’mon, not another one,” Tango pleaded. Dr. Atlas ignored him.

In the absence of any blaze rods, sparks fizzled up around Tango’s head, but no new ones formed.

Atlas frowned. “Hm. That’s a shame.”

“Atlas, stop this! Just- c’mon-“

One of the scientists forced his head back to the ground, slamming it into the concrete. Tango gasped at the impact. Then, from the sparks, a new blaze rod flared into existence. Atlas smiled.

“You know,” He looked Tango in the eye. “You and I are going to do great things together, Mr. Tango.”

“Atlas! St-“ he cut himself off with a wince as Atlas stole his final remaining blaze rod.

Still smiling, Atlas stood and walked out of the room, the other two following him out. The door slammed shut behind them, pushing another wave of ice cold air over Tango.

Slowly, he sat up, aching and fatigued, shivering. Then he tucked himself into a ball, too tired to fight back. He closed his eyes.

All of Tango’s days seemed to blend together, forming one painful, seemingly endless existence. Except it wasn’t really endless—Tango had died almost too many times to count over that long expanse of time. Almost.

Minuscule thorns like hypodermic needles jabbed into his skin from all angles. They seemed to suck the blood out of him, slowly and steadily, until there was none left. The branches wrapped around his arms and legs bore scarlet red berries, and the droplets of Tango’s blood scattered over the leaves and floor looked just like minuscule versions of them. They brought a constant, throbbing, piercing pain that Tango could never take his mind off of, at least until-

But that was too slow.

Deep red mist seemed to linger in the air, clouding Tango’s vision and filling his lungs. It burned his eyes and throat, adding to the pain swirling around his body. Each time a bottle dropped, he felt as if a portion of his soul was ripped away, claimed by the burgundy flecks that seemed to glimmer in and out of existence. He lost more and more of himself, never given a chance to recover, until-

But that was too effective.

Steam swirled up from the ground, enveloping him in a cloud of warmth. The red-hot, glowing coals were almost comfortable under his feet. The heat was scalding, yet familiar, and almost sympathetic. Tango was hardly surprised when the first sharp sting across his face came. The Doctors needed to have their fun, after all. So, he stood in the welcoming embrace of liquid hellfire and heard his bones snap, and break, and shatter, until-

But (as much as it was fun) that was too inefficient.

A cold, slippery nothing filled Tango’s throat, invading his lungs and emptying his mind of anything except panic. It was too thin, too slick to get a hold onto as it dissolved into his core, turning his embers into nothing but smoke. It filled him with terror like nothing else ever could. He was surrounded by it, and helpless to do anything to stop it from ripping away his life, his soul, his fire, until-

But that harmed the product.

A prickling, unnatural chill crept over Tango’s bones. It seeped into his skin like salt dissolving into water—slow and gradual, yet present all the time. It seemed to touch each and every one of his nerves, somehow lighting them on fire and enveloping them in numbness at the same time. It sent a shiver down his spine so curious it almost could’ve tickled if it didn’t hurt so much. It ate away at him, bit by bit, until-

It was perfect—slow, constant, enveloping, (painful,) impeccable. And so the experiments began.

Tango sat, unmoving, just like they told him to. He held still, just like they said, as rows of thorns were stabbed into his arms. Both of his arms were completely numb, yet seemed to be flickering with pinpricks of pain. Dr. Atlas himself was there to pluck the blaze rods from his crown, tucking each one into his coat as if he meant to protect them with his life. It was a constant cycle: Dr. Atlas would take a blaze rod from him, another thorn would be stabbed into his arm, and another blaze rod would appear, ready to be stolen once more.

There had once been a bouquet of wither roses in front of him. They were enchanting, almost would’ve been beautiful, if he hadn’t known what it was like to feel their wrath. Now, there was a pile of deep purple, almost black rose buds lying discarded on a table off to the side (they only needed the thorns).

As a scientist moved to place another bud in the pile, a clump of black, dusty pollen tumbled out of the flower and onto Tango’s arm. Almost immediately, it melted into Tango’s skin, turning the surrounding area a bit gray.

Dr. Atlas’s eyes instantly locked onto the still slightly gray spot. He pointed to the scientist holding the rose bud. “Bring that over here.”

They complied, and Dr. Atlas stuck his finger into the center of the rose, then pulled it out. Black dust coated the tip of his gloved finger, sticking to it like glitter. He turned back to Tango, then smeared the pollen across his forearm. Just as quickly as before, it absorbed into Tango’s flesh, this time leaving faint traces of black veins underneath his skin.

A newfound sense of pain rushed through Tango’s arm, pumping through his bloodstream. The sparks above his head flared, and a blaze rod shimmered into existence, taking its place in his crown. Dr. Atlas reached up a hand, then plucked it, a faint smile on his face.

The pollen was better, they’d found. It was more potent, more harmful, more efficient. The once discarded rose buds had suddenly become a treasure trove for the scientists, and Dr. Atlas couldn’t have been more pleased. And so the testing began.

Test #1: Tears welled up in Tango’s eyes as the now familiar prickling numbness drove him further to insanity. That black dust coated his throat and lungs, making him cough. A couple tears rolled down his cheeks as he felt one of his blaze rods get ripped away from him.

Test #60: Slowly but surely, they were tearing him apart. He felt like, as each blaze rod was stolen from him, a part of his fire went along with. His soul was being taken and sold to the masses for nothing but a bit of profit.

Test #157: Tango longed for the sliding metal doors to his blank white room to open. Even when they were there to refill the respawn anchor, trapping him here. Even when they came to empty the hoppers of his blaze rods, using him for their gain. Even when they came to chop off his claws, preventing any resistance. Because it was better than nothing, right?

Test #326: For Tango, crying was a constant. He took some comfort in it—among all of the deaths, all the malfunctions, through the never-ending blanket of prickling numbness, at least he had this. It was enough.

It wasn’t too much of a change for Tango when Dr. Atlas and the others came to move him into his new home. Just one torture chamber in a blank room to another. He could barely even notice a difference (maybe he didn’t care to).

Dr. Atlas smiled at him through the glass. “Welcome to your new home, Tango Tek.”

#writing #creative writing #hermitcraft #tangotek #bad things happen bingo #prompt: locked in a freezer #fandom: hermitcraft #febuwhump #febuwhump day 2

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sunlightandsuffering · 28 days

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POSTING JEDI AU BC I WANT IT TO SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY BC I LOVE IT AND IT'S SO CUTE !!!

Jedi AU

Mikasa comes to Eren at sixteen, prim and shy, but ever eager to please. Eren is twenty-one, and he is not at all impressed with the assignment.

Everyone else heralds it as an honour, what a big achievement to have your own padawan learner when he’s barely an adult himself.

Eren on the other hand sees the ‘honour’ for what it really is: babysitting. And not just for him, but for Mikasa as well.

Because his own master had been drawn away on other assignments, missions that Eren couldn’t go on. And the Jedi Order couldn’t have their most rebellious young master running around the galaxy unsupervised. So, they’d given him Mikasa and said here, teach her. They’d successfully saddled him with more responsibility than he’d ever wanted and effectively knee-capped him from doing anything too crazy… Not that the things he did were ever really that crazy, they just weren’t so perfectly in line with the Jedi Order’s world philosophy. She’d stepped off the ship in a blaze of barely contained excitement, he could tell, even as quiet as she was that she was practically bursting with energy, but she’d been raised by the order, so what could he really expect? Orphaned at a young age and found miraculously on the burning remains of her planet, Mikasa had been taken in by a wandering Jedi and raised at the temple.

For all intents and purposes, she was the perfect specimen, everything a Jedi should be and so not who Eren had wanted to teach.

She’d looked up at him dutifully, waiting to be spoken to, eager to receive orders and Eren knew immediately she was going to be a problem. They were so diametrically opposed it was laughable, and he thinks the Order probably is laughing at him, payback for causing them so much trouble over the years. Eren sighs, reaching his hand out for a shake, “I’m Eren Yeager, I’ll be your new Master.” “I’m Mikasa,” she tells him sweetly, finally letting a small smile overtake her lips, “I look forward to working with you.” Oh, this was going to be a struggle of epic proportions, he can already tell.

The longer Eren spends with Mikasa, the more sure he is that the Jedi Temple moulded her to be everything he isn’t, to be his worst nightmare personified.

Because that’s exactly what she is.

“Well, Master I think we should follow Jedi protocol, and it says to call –” “Mikasa,” He tells her warningly, and she shuts up, her mouth pursing shut, she’s used to it at this point.

This is how 90 percent of their discussions go these days. “The other masters will be mad,” she sing songs as Eren drags a droid away from the wreckage of the ship he’s trying to access.

Eren sends her an unimpressed glare over his shoulder, grunting as he hefts the droid out of the way, “Yeah, well the Jedi Order can stuff it, there’s a lot of things they get mad at me about.” “Why do you insist on doing everything incorrectly? Maybe if you did things the right way like I tell you to, then you wouldn’t get in so much trouble.” “Who’s the Master here, Mikasa?” She shuts up again, huffing in irritation and Eren has to remind himself it’s him, he’s literally the master here, their very small age gap and her immense knowledge of Jedi principles blurs the line sometimes. He’s only five years older, sometimes it’s a little hard to boss her around so much, especially when to top it all off she’s almost as good of a fighter as him. He curses away to himself as he steps into the abandoned ship, because of course, he had to be paired with the most gifted Jedi of the new generation, topping even him in her midiclorian count and with the uncanny natural ability to simply kick ass. Her fighting skills are amazing, almost on par with his own, her only fatal flaw is perhaps that she’s such a rule follower. It blinds her in other aspects, makes her too trusting, too sweet.

Something that could one day get her killed. Eren looks back sharply at the thought, his pain-in-the-ass little padawan nowhere to be found, standing guard until she’s given another order, proving his point. Eren sighs, “Mikasa, get over here brat.” He hears her make a little noise of affront at being called a brat, she gets all cute when she’s huffy, like an angry kitten, and then there are footsteps as she enters the ship. She’s hurrying so fast she runs right into him and Eren grunts as her little body collides with his at full speed, but he’s quick to steady her, firmly grasping her shoulders.

“Mika,” he chides softly, “Be careful okay, and remember to follow me okay, what if there were still enemies out there, what if something happened to you?” There’s a pretty blush staining her cheeks, but still, she protests, “I can take care of myself!” Eren quirks an eyebrow up at her, his hands rubbing softly up and down her biceps, “And what did I say about that?” Her cheeks puff up as she repeats his words back to him, “I can’t say that until I can beat you in a spar three times in a row.” “And have you?” He questions, because yeah, sometimes being her Master is a little bit fun. “No,” she grumbles out in irritation and he smirks, giving her a playful love tap to her cheek before letting her go, and she gasps in response, “Eren!”

“Master,” he corrects easily, already slipping further into the ship to investigate, and now he’s really pissed her off, her usually sweet, quiet presence raging behind him. She’s stomping around the ship, showcasing her rage at being spoken down to, and Eren can’t help his smile as he inspects the engine controls, trying to grasp what exactly went wrong here. He hears something fall but doesn’t look back, engrossed in attempting to revive part of the ship, maybe he can find an old flight path if he gets it going.

His fingers fiddle with buttons and wires, all the while Mikasa seems to be making a lot of noise behind him, a lot more noise than he thinks he’s ever heard her make before. Mikasa really is the perfect padawan, or well she probably would be for any other Jedi – intelligent, kind, brilliant fighting skills, quick on her feet – all qualities necessary in a great Jedi.

Eren would have preferred someone more flawed, an orphan with maybe a bit more emotional damage he could counsel, someone more similar to him. Not quite such a rule follower, someone he could really bond with, who might look up to him.

Mikasa isn’t any of those things. Except for right now, it seems as Eren turns around finally after something else goes crashing to the ground. His padawan is glaring at him from where she’d very obviously knocked something over, sweet, docile Mikasa who never allows her emotions to get the better of her is evidently, very displeased with him.

And most interestingly, demanding his attention, even more as she stares him down, those quicksilver eyes raging, purposefully knocking something else right off the shelf next to her. She’s exactly like a cat, a displeased little creature that gets what it wants. Eren can barely repress his smile, maybe there’s still hope for him yet, some fire in those pretty silver eyes of hers.

He’s almost giddy at the thought because maybe she’s not a completely lost cause, maybe he can still corrupt her just a little, mould her into being a truly great Jedi instead of a standard foot soldier, someone who thinks for themselves, assesses the situation and decides the next course of action instead of consulting the damn Jedi temple on everything. “Miki,” Eren hums, and she perks right up at the name, it’s one she favours and something he doesn’t call her often, reserves it for special circumstances. “Are you mad at me?” “What gave you that idea?” “Miki,” he chides, beckoning her forwards, and she stomps towards him angrily.

She stops just before him, glaring up at his tall frame, evergreen locked with silver and Eren smiles, full and genuine at the cute little expression of rage on her face, eyebrows knitted together in irritation. “Tell me what’s wrong?” “Master, you always dismiss me! And you rarely let me fight, even though I can. At the temple I was the best, I beat all the other kids, and I- I was so excited when I found out I’d be training under you, but you never let me show off, never let me fight.” She deflates towards the end of her monologue and Eren hums in acknowledgement, “It’s not because I don’t trust you Mikasa, I’d just rather watch you fight in more controlled environments first. It’s only been a few months, I don’t want to throw you head first into battle.” “But-” He tuts her, his hand slipping up into the tangles of her hair, pushing her bangs back behind her ears, he’s always had a fascination with that sleek pretty black hair of hers, how soft it is, how it feels under his fingertips, “Don’t worry I’m going to let you fight Mikasa, but once you can beat me three times in a row, which I know you will do.” He gives a soft little yank at one of the dark strands of her hair, “You’re a great fighter Mikasa, brilliant, especially with your lightsaber, but you fight predictably. Just like the Order teaches, the same spar you’ve done a hundred times. That’s not how real enemies fight, that’s not how I fight.” Eren smirks, his hand combing out her hair now, something Mikasa leans into, has always enjoyed the rare time he shows her affection.

“I fight dirty, and I always win. There’s a reason I’m so revered at the temple, that my missions are always successes, albeit with perhaps more damage than I’d usually like. It’s because my methods differ from the Jedi temple, and I think that’s something you need.”

“Oh,” she murmurs softly, eyes now shut, like a cat, as he continues to finger his hands through her hair, his other one slipping up to join in the soft thick strands. She makes a little noise of contentment as he gathers the thick dark mop of her hair in his hands, leaning in as he styles it into a makeshift bun, using his own hair elastic to fasten it at the base of her head. He presses a soft kiss to her temple as he finishes, affection she’s never had, that Eren can’t help but give, something the Jedi Order frowns upon but Mikasa needs more than anything, such a touch-starved child.

His hands skim down now, settling over her shoulders, “Do you understand now? It’s not because I don’t trust you, it’s because we’re already training Mikasa, and if I have my way you’ll be the best Jedi the order has ever seen.” “Even better than you?” She breathes curiously, her eyes soft and warm now, pliant, heather grey. He chuckles, “Of course, you’re my padawan after all, you’ll have to be better than me.” Mikasa smiles, such a full and beautiful smile, so bright he almost has to look away, “I have to train all those bad Jedi habits out of you though, I think they sent me the worst recruit they could find.” At this, she smacks him and Eren cackles, pinching her side.

“At least I know how to cook.” Eren guffaws, “Barely!” “I’m better than you!” “Not by much.”

Sometimes, Mikasa wonders how Eren ever thought she wouldn’t fall in love with him.

Force, how the Jedi Order had thought she wouldn’t fall in love with him? It’s like they were hoping for it. Even when she was younger, she could remember hearing about the trouble-making padawan that no matter how he went against the Jedi temple rules, never had an unsuccessful mission. She had been enamoured, who was this boy, this legend in the making? And then as she’d gotten older, moved up the ranks herself, set to become a padawan, she’d seen him in action and she’d been star-struck. Only once in battle before she’d been ushered away to safety, only a glimpse, but the way his hair had stuck to his forehead, slick with sweat, blood spattering his tunic, forearms pulled taut as he held his light-saber. He’d looked like a vengeful God, and for reasons unknown to her, she hadn’t been able to get him out of her head ever since. He’d appear in her dreams, always standing over her, shirtless, saving her life, the lines of his back cut like there should be wings there.

She’d seen him only once more before she’d become his padawan, and it had only elevated him further in her mind, up high on that pedestal she could never reach, never even hope to touch. He’d been in the middle of the council, and she’d been sneakily walking by, only to hear the voices of the council. And Mikasa, ever the dutiful student, hadn’t been able to help her curiosity. What she saw had been the dressing down of a lifetime, as Eren stood in the middle of the council, being utterly ripped apart for his most recent mission. She’d been nodding her head along, agreeing, until Eren had finally defended himself, speaking of all the lives he’d saved.

That had shut them up rather promptly, and Eren had been smirking when she’d finally disappeared down the hall, her heart beating with far more than just the adrenaline of listening in on a top-secret meeting.

Because Eren had looked particularly handsome that day, his hair windswept against his cheeks, the long cloak the Jedi typically wore conspicuously absent to display lean muscle instead.

And now, at sixteen, the peak age for puberty, when hormones are running high, especially in battle, the Jedi Order had thought it was a great idea to pair her off with a handsome rebellious twenty-one-year-old? It was cruel, to be honest. Everyone else she knew had older men with beards for masters, shrivelled up and half dead. And here she was with probably the best-looking boy she’d ever seen in her life, and he was around her all the time. Mikasa knew she would be a good Jedi, it was what she was born and raised for after all, she’d spent countless hours sparring, mastering her use of the force, everything to be the best she could possibly be. But lately, she finds what is thwarting her the most is the whole ‘no attachment’ part of being a Jedi.

Because it’s becoming really hard for her not to get attached.

Eren steps out of the bathroom, clad in only a towel, his other hand occupied in drying his long hair, water dripping down the divots of his abs. Her mouth suddenly feels very dry, and he sends her a wink as she eats her soup. Yeah, it’s becoming really, really hard for her not to get attached. He disappears down the hall to his quarters, and Mikasa spends ten minutes fanning herself, chanting the Jedi Code over and over again.

No attachment, absolutely none, not allowed!

But really in hindsight how did they expect her not to fall in love?

Eren is passionate, almost to a fault, and since she’s joined him on his missions as his padawan she’s realized that he’s particularly passionate about her safety.

In a way, it’s kind of flattering, and in other ways, it makes her heart almost beat out of her chest.

He’s always saving her, even when she doesn’t need saving, he’s always there. And afterwards, he’s scolding her for ever being in danger in the first place, as if it isn’t part of both of their jobs.

But it’s afterwards, that’s the part she adores the most, after the lecture and the yelling when he’s tucking her into his chest and whispering into her hair how much she scared him, that she shouldn’t go out and be so reckless. To which she always replies cheekily, “Isn’t that what you trained me to do?” He always pinches her side for that particular comment, but it never gets old, being wrapped in the warmth and safety of his arms, it feels like coming home, like safety in a way the Jedi temple never has.

“Mikasa,” Eren chastises her from the head of the ship where he’s piloting them off towards some faraway planet for their next mission, ready to shoot them into hyperdrive, “What are you doing?” He can tell she’s up to no good just by the sound of her footsteps, how she tries to soften them just slightly, her breathing clipped as she tries not to let him hear her. He spins in his chair to find her slipping out of his room, and he quirks an eyebrow curiously, repeating his question, “What are you doing?” She winces as she’s found out, slumping in place. She’s cute, adorably messy all dolled up in her pyjamas, hair tucked up behind her in a messy bun that he aches to pull into a proper one. Always her damn hair.

“I had a nightmare,” she murmurs, “I was gonna go sleep in your bed.” “C’mere,” he beckons her, his hands just itching to properly tie up that silky hair of hers and almost as soon as she’s within reach he’s dragging her to his lap, turning her around. She shuts her eyes blissfully as she leans back into him, her head tilted against his shoulder as he massages her scalp, gathering the sleek strands into a soft bun at the base of her skull, one that won’t come out so easily like hers did. “What was the nightmare about?” He murmurs as he ties it up with her pretty red ribbon. “Losing my parents.” She doesn’t miss a beat, and Eren sighs as he turns her in his lap, her hair now secured properly. “Are you scared?” She shakes her head, grey eyes tearing up, “I just miss them.” And before she can stop herself, the tears are rushing down her cheeks in hot streaks, more than Eren is equipped to deal with. He sighs, rough hands coming up to wipe at her tears tenderly, “I’m not going to bed anytime soon I have to pilot us to the next planet, but why don’t you sit with me? You can keep me company.” “Okay,” she murmurs through her tears and Eren settles her in the chair next to him, piling her up high with a soft fuzzy blanket as he tucks her into the large swivel chair. “Better?” He asks, and she nods, wiping the rest of her tears into the blanket and Eren smiles, his hand finding her knee to lovingly stroke, “You’ve got me now, I’m here, and I’ll never leave you.” “What about,” she sniffles slightly, “What about when I become a master in my own right?” Eren chuckles, “We’ve got a few more years but even then I think I’ll keep you around Miki, you’re not so bad.” She smiles through her tears, resting her head on her knees as she looks at him, “Would you have stayed with your master if you could?”

Eren shrugs, his hand still resting on her knee comfortingly, and Mikasa shivers as he strokes over sensitive skin not covered by her blanket, his hands so big and warm.

“Probably if I could have, but you know the council wanted me doing my own thing, cause less chaos that way, you know how it is.” It’s quiet for a moment and Eren smiles at her softly, squeezing her knee, “But I’m happy how things turned out, I got you instead and that’s not bad at all.” Her breath hitches and she feels like she can’t breathe, her eyes drawn towards his lips and the chiselled cut of his jaw, so brutally beautiful, the harsh angles of his face contrasted with the soft length of his eyelashes, those brilliant green eyes. He’s stunning, and she just wants to lean across the controls and kiss him, has to grip the arms of her chair just to stop herself.

That night she falls asleep encased in his arms, even better than his bed, warm and protected. She’s only mildly upset the next morning when she wakes up in her own bed, devoid of her master, no evidence it had ever happened at all. Except when she glimpses her reflection in her bedroom mirror and where she expects to find bedhead sticking up at all angles, she finds only perfectly smooth plaits, meticulously woven and expertly banded together.

Mikasa is not oblivious to the fact that Eren has needs, more carnal needs, it’s something she’d discovered a few months into her apprenticeship. She’d seen a pretty girl leaving his rooms as she reported, bright and early, ready to start the day. Eren hadn’t exactly been thrilled to see her, looking a little worse for wear. He’d grumpily told her to come back in an hour.

She’d left wondering what this awful feeling in her gut was, this painful sorrow she didn’t understand.

The feeling had only grown with every subsequent girl she saw him with, how he’d pick them up in different worlds between missions, shooing her off to her quarters and telling her not to knock on his door that night. The deep selfish part of her always wondered what he’d do if she did knock, if she claimed to have a nightmare, would he drop everything for her, push the girl out the door to tuck her into his arms instead? The only thing stopping her from testing the theory was her Jedi training, and her strict promise to herself not to get attached.

She’s not attached already, she’s absolutely not! Well… maybe she is, just a little bit.

And as she teeters on the edge of seventeen, a few months until her eighteenth birthday, her attachment becomes more and more apparent. She’s been with Eren for almost two years now, watching him, learning from him. She’s intimately familiar with him, his every quirk, every preference, how he likes his breakfast, how to beat him in a spar.

It’s becoming dangerous, just how well she knows him, because she’s starting to notice things… things she has no business noticing.

Like his obsession with her hair, how he can never seem to pass up the opportunity to touch the long sleek strands, or how he fusses when she leaves it loose sometimes. He always claims it’s unacceptable for battle, too much of a liability, but Mikasa thinks he just likes to touch it, and she won’t complain. She’s grown to love it, the feeling of his hands in her hair, battle-calloused hands working at her scalp so gently, plaiting her hair with expert precision.

Mikasa absolutely refuses to admit that she ruffles her bedhead up a little more than she should, that she enjoys how he fusses over her in the morning when it’s particularly wild. Mikasa has noticed this obsession with her hair also seems to extend to his overnight guest preferences. At first, it had pained her to see all these beautiful women slip from Eren’s quarters, long sleek dark hair, always a shade of dark brown or raven as her own, and always long and silky. Temptresses, Mikasa thought of them, beautiful women with perfect bodies, and long flowing hair, styled in a way Eren would never allow her to even think of. To leave her hair loose was to be killed in battle, and it was something her master adamantly refused, always pulled the pretty dark strands taut against the back of her head in some sort of twist.

She tugs on her long strands self-consciously as she sips her morning tea, awaiting the exit of Eren’s visitor from last night. She’s thought about cutting the strands short, but she thinks Master would have even more of a conniption about that, and if nothing else she loves how he touches her, can’t help but finger the strands, comb his hands through the silky locks.

Mikasa prides herself on how perfectly taken care of it is, always smelling of lavender and sage, preening when Eren notices the scent. There is the click of a door and Mikasa’s head snaps up, torn from her daydreams and she spots her, a blonde today, the golden colour more bronze, so dark it almost borders on brunette. And as they lock eyes, Mikasa’s mouth twists up in disgust, because she’s discovered another preference of her master’s, one she hadn’t been sure of, but today confirms it.

He prefers Jedi women, to anyone else.

She’s not sure when he picked up this proclivity, probably only in the last few months, but recently it feels like every girl she sees exiting his room she’s also seen around Jedi headquarters.

It’s awkward, but at least they don’t linger.

Because Jedi don’t form attachments… Thus, Mikasa cannot be forming an attachment. And there is, therefore, zero reason for her to be excited about the prospect of Eren preferring Jedi women, hopeful even. Why should she be excited about that? Why would she? She’s not attached, not at all.

She’s also not jealous of the pretty blonde Jedi she’s seen around Jedi headquarters, that she’s seen Eren talk to more than she’d like. Mikasa does not fume silently as she watches the woman slip out of Eren’s bedroom, Jedi robes askew and with a slightly guilty look on her face. “Mikasa,” She whispers, shocked as she stands in the main lobby, a stand-off as she notices Mikasa seated at the ship’s helm, glaring miserably at Eren’s door. “Misha,” Mikasa responds coldly.

Internally, she chastises herself, the ever-present voice of the order in her ear, urging her to call this woman ‘master’, to give her the respect she is owed. Mikasa takes a cue from Eren for once and continues to simply glare at the woman instead, the petty part of her refusing to even stand to greet her. “What are you doing up dear? I umm I hope we didn’t wake you –” “You didn’t,” Mikasa retorts, cutting her off, “But you should head out, Master and I have to leave soon.”

“Oh,” Misha mumbles, looking slightly put out, “Well could you pass along a message for me?” No, no she will not, but Misha doesn’t have to know that. “Tell him I’m around here a lot if he ever wants to…” Misha trails off and Mikasa wants to growl at her, how inappropriate the request is. The Jedi Order trained part of her kicking and screaming in her head about propriety and attachments and the fact that this is her fucking superior, asking her to proposition her own master on her behalf. But instead of saying anything, Mikasa forces a smile, just the smallest twitch of her lips, snuggling further back into her chair, “I’ll be sure to relay the message.” Misha smiles, “Thanks Mikasa, you’re a promising padawan I know you’ll do great things.” Yes, yes she will, but she doesn’t need this woman to tell her that. “Goodbye Misha,” Is Mikasa’s only response, a dismissal, and she can’t resist the cruel smile of triumph at how Misha deflates. The woman linger for another moment, glances back towards Eren’s door one more time as she leaves, looking slightly put out by the entire interaction.

It is a small consolation to Mikasa, especially when Eren asks about her a few hours later, looking glum. “Did you see Misha when she left this morning?”

“No,” Mikasa tells him primly, “But when we were fuelling up I saw her laughing with Master Reiner, they seem quite close.”

“Oh,” Eren replies, looking slightly put out, “I umm didn’t realize they knew each other so well.”

“Neither did I,” Mikasa comments casually, beginning to steer the ship out of the port, a responsibility Eren has finally allowed her again after the meteor incident.

“But they must be quite close,” She continues nonchalantly, “She was touching his arm, they seemed so comfortable together.”

Eren says nothing and Mikasa presses her lips together to repress her pleased smile as Eren drops down into the seat next to her, a hand slipping up to affectionately tug at her bangs, “Don’t crash the ship again please.”

She beams at him, “I’m only as good as my teacher, Master.”

“That’s it, give me the wheel, brat.”

Life is good.

#jedi em au #jedi au eremika #jedi eremika #lys's drabbles

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fireemblems24 · 4 months

Text

Scarlet Blaze Ch 12

Spoilers below for all Hopes routes up to Ch 12.

MAIN STORY

More backtracking.

I had Shez say we shouldn't return because I'm sick of backtracking. Hubert got mad at me. Ugh.

I also don't get why TWSITD wouldn't want Edelgard do take over. Isn't that like their plan? She does all the hard work then they kill her? Isn't Rhea's death #1 on TWSITD's Christmas list??

SIDE MAPS/CAMP

Ashe is still miserable, but no special words for Annette. I hope Mercedes does.

Marianne is actually motivated to fight this time. She actively dislikes fighting the Kingdom though. (Dimimari still alive)

Lamo, Linhardt doesn't give two shits about Edelgard's war, he just wants to go back to Enbarr and take a nap.

Petra also seems relieved she's fighting rioters and not Kingdom soldiers.

Everyone else - there riots, hung. This one random dude - so there's this dance competition

Mercedes wants to be left alone and pray for Annette. She should've known though that the Empire's actions are sentencing a sizable portion of Faerghus to death, right? I have less sympathy for her than Ashe, who was just following Dimitri's direct orders.

Hubert looks like such a try-hard with this new design. Sometimes I forget.

Hubert doesn't trust Shez. This is such a stark contract to AG, because Hubert thinks Shez will lose control and kill Edelgard and is threatening to kill Shez.

So there's another cut scene where they say TWSITD doesn't want Fodlan unified, but don't they in 3 Houses? Isn't the whole point of the experiments on Edelgard so she's strong enough to kill Rhea and take over Fodlan? Like, I get why they'd be mad that Edelgard kicked them out, but if they were smart they'd let her do all the dirty work and then just take her out and then profit without losing anyone. This whole, "TWSITD doesn't want us to unify!" really smells like bullshit bc of the backlash Edelgard got for siding with them in Houses. Now they're retconning it into "oh, no no, they don't want her to succeed!" Uh, yes, they do, that's what they spent years planning on. Makes no sense.

SHEZ & CASPAR B SUPPORT

They talk about training and how Caspar wants to surpass Shez in fighting ability.

Really the only thing of note is Caspar's persistence.

SHEZ & LINHARDT B SUPPORT

Linhardt is still investigating Shez's power, who has mixed feelings about it.

The problem is the power woke up when Shez was facing death, making it hard to recreate. So Linhardt just commits to studying Shez on the battlefield.

Linhardt is stone cold. After realizing he may not be able to study Shez's power he says he'll need to revaluate the value of their relationship.

SHEZ & BERNADETTA A SUPPORT

Their plans to help Bernadetta is not going well. Everything ends in chaos.

There's moments Bernie's anxiety is treated seriously in this support at the very least.

It ends with Bernie realizing Shez doesn't scare her anymore and that the way not to be nervous around people is spending time with them.

SHEZ & PETRA A SUPPORT

Petra tells Shez he can come to Brigid once it's over.

She hopes to increase trade once the war is over and thinks having Shez around will help.

It's pretty fucked up that Petra thinks the best way for Brigid to stand out is to comply with their oppressors until they "earn" their power or whatever. Recruited Petra is always better.

Shez tells Petra she's "every bit the leader the Fodlan ones are" like fuck off, we know that. Petra just owns it though. She's like, "no, I'm Brigid's queen." We love that for her.

I'm having Shez be as much of a dick as I can though right now (fuck this route for making me kill Annette, Gustave, Rodrigue, and Ingrid - the Black Eagles deserve worse), and this was the first time I felt bad.

HUBERT & MONICA A SUPPORT

The battle of the simps.

I really wonder what the writers were thinking. Oh, I know what the Black Eagles needs, another mage and another character who wants to suck Edelgard's toes! We don't have enough of either yet.

Monica insulted Edelgard's painting without knowing it was Edelgard's. This is probably the hardest trial she's ever faced (yes, it's probably worse than kidnapping and imprisonment for her)

Edelgard got offended. That girl can't take any criticism.

Monica aspires to be Edelgard's servant and is happy that the war she's causing may make that possible. Question is, does Edelgard want to put up with a stalker?

FERDINAND & DOROTHEA A SUPPORT

Dorothea has realized that she owes Ferdinand an apology. Finally.

Ferdinand really rides that line between cringe and endearing and right now I don't know what side of the fence he's on right now. He's shouting at Dorothea so he can keep a distance and giving her the chance to laugh at him if she wants.

Dorothea's embarrassed because everyone is overhearing this lamo. And people are assuming they're dating.

Poor Ferdinand is like Dorothea's still annoyed with me. Then Dorothea tells him he doesn't need to apologize, which makes him think she'll never forgive him, but it's actually because she has too.

They both get embarrassed when she tells him what's going on.

Honestly this is a WAY cuter version of the same story and a lesson in how much execution matters. I was all team Petra/Dorothea (and Ferdinand I didn't really ship with anyone), but now I like Ferdie/Doro too.

While I'm kind of bummed we basically got the same conversation, a rewrite really helped in this case so I get why they went that route.

MONICA & DOROTHEA C SUPPORT

Why did they have to do my girl Dorothea like this? Wasting one of her supports on Monica.

Monica is upset she didn't realize Dorothea was the songstress sooner.

So, Monica is a fan of Dorothea too.

Also Dorothea finds Monica unsettling. Same.

But hey at least Monica got through a conversation without saying Edelgard.

LINHARDT & CONSTANCE C

So is this about Constance being mad that Linhardt doesn't care about his noble status or about him investigating her condition?

Linhardt calls her for siding with the church over the Empire for a bit, but it was only for survival.

Man, Constance just makes no sense fighting for Edelgard. She wants to glory of nobility so awkward.

These two aren't having the same conversation. Linhardt is curious about her crest situation and Constance is going off about wanting to revive her house.

He just walks off after getting annoyed by her lol.

JERITZA & EDELGARD A SUPPORT

Jetiza likes the war because without it he'd be killing someone "less deserving" because Fuck You random Faerghus citizen. I guess they "deserve it"

Also, holy shit, dude acts like it's just inevitable that he murders

At least he wants to get arrested. Edelgard doesn't want him to get arrested.

My question is, did Jeritza go around killing willy nilly or just House Bartels? Because he makes it sound like he can't resist killing and just went and ganked whoever was unlucky.

Or was it that Edelgard recruited him right away and made him her personal guard dog?

MAIN BATTLE

Hanneman and Leonie, not who I expected.

I love how we only see mothers crying over their dead kids when it's TWSITD's attack that does it and not Edelgard's.

Edelgard says no more innocent lives lost today, which may actually be true since we're attacking TWSITD and not commoners from Faerghus.

Is there anything you can do about Leonie? She died of poison, but since it's related to Jeralt stuff, I'm guessing it's because I didn't recruit him? If I did, would she have gotten recruited?

Solon retreated. Annoying.

Hubert, who was a dark knight the whole battle, claims he doesn't know the magic TWSITD uses.

I forget how anime magic girl Edelgard's design is in this game. It's kind of weird.

I keep earning reknown, but I don't know what it does.

Duke Aegir and co seized a fortress. Time for Ferdinand to do something cool?

Caspar's brother is a prisoner.

Does this mean I get to put off fighting innocent citizens of Faerghus for another level? Because I prefer SB bored out of my mind than upset that I had to kill Ingrid, Rodrigue, Gustave, and Annette.

Leonie's dead too now. Geeze, SB is a bloodbath.

xxx

#fire emblem #scarlet blaze #fire emblem three hopes #three hopes #scarlet blaze spoilers

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theshireisburning-so-mordoritis · 2 years

Note

I have a kind of angsty request for a din x reader if ud like it?

What if the reader maybe a hunting partner or smth avoids looking at din bc they dont like seeing their reflection (insecurities yay!) in his armour but din thinks its bc they don't like him and then somehow he finds/works it out idk

Do with it what u fancy <3

Like I See You

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: Angst. Insecurities. Self-loathing. Reader spiralling. Reader's parents are arseholes. Protective Din. Soft ending.

A/N: This asks has been in my inbox for so long whilst I've figured how exactly I wanted to approach this and then whilst I re-wrote what I had about 20 times until I was finally satisfied. Shoutout to the wonderful @acourtofsnakes who read through when I wasn't sure I was doing a good job and had to put up with being sent alot of snippets along with the caption "does this make sense?" Ily my friend and I couldn't have done this without you.

It’s one of those days.

The days where your mind decides to be your worst enemy and spits insults like acid - firing up each and every insecurity you’ve ever felt in rapid succession like a never ending horror reel in your brain whilst you stare at the mirror.

And shutting your eyes doesn’t work. The image lingers - imprinted - distorted - your mind turning it to something monstrous to fit the words that blaze incriminatingly across your features.

It’s the type of day where you compare yourself to everyone that goes by even though you know you’re only feeding the parasitic thoughts behind your self loathing behaviour. But you can’t stop. You can’t snap yourself out of it with kind affirmations no matter how hard you try, mantras like I am enough - I’m perfect just the way I am - they sound weak in comparison to the other things ramming against your skull. False even.

You can’t even distract yourself with the job you’re supposed to be doing, you're that unfocused, and of course Din notices.

He noticed the moment your mood shifted, the moment your smile became a tiny, hollow thing and the wild spark of your eyes dulled. He noticed the moment your shoulders sagged as if struggling under some colossal weight and he could almost sense you shrinking into yourself, trying to make yourself appear smaller, unnoticeable to everyone including him, even as the two of you leaned side by side against the sticky bar of a run-down cantina waiting for an informant.

Din just doesn’t understand why.

You were born to burn, not fade to shadow. You burned right through him - his armour and his unimaginably high walls that he thought he would never lower for anyone until you came along and showed him it was okay to depend on another every once in a while.

Before he had loathed the idea of sharing his work with someone - his home - but then he had found you.

You, who had stunned him from the first time he warily approached you. With your sweet expression and mischievous smile - the way your eyes glittered as light bounced off the dagger that you flipped so effortlessly in your hand. You who had immediately launched into a vividly detailed plan of how you and him could slip into the bounty’s hideout and rip it apart from within from the moment he reluctantly had suggested he might need some help.

You had been glorious, destruction in your veins and blood streaked across your face - your neck - your bruised knuckles as you sunk a blade into one man's spine and twisted. Together, they had broke against the bounty’s muscle with the force of a tsunami and by the time there was no one left - no one except the cowering heap that you dropped at his feet with a warm, buttery smile - Din was fucking starstruck.

He’s remained that way ever since. His awe twisting - blooming - into something that takes his breath away even when he watches you do the most mundane things. Every move you make seems to hold a beauty to it - a whisper of power - something unique he can only ever link to you that makes his heart seize behind his ribs.

And he can’t understand why it feels like he’s now watching that flame that burns within you go out before his very own eyes. Why you’re trying to make yourself invisible and refuse to meet the dark gaze of his visor even though he knows you can sense his eyes on you.

'What’s wrong?” He prods quietly.

You sigh then, a flicker of something pained passing over your features before you can hide it. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

"You’re a terrible liar.”

"And you’re not usually this fucking nosy.” You snap, muscles tensing, still refusing to spare him even a single glance. “I said I’m fine, Mando. Drop it.”

His brow pinches in a frown, eyes narrowed to slits as he lets your sudden burst of anger crash against him. Tasting the defensiveness and frustration brushed through it. He knows this. He’s all too familiar with becoming aggravated when he doesn’t know how to get shit that’s bothering him off his chest, the way he would allow it to bleed out through rage or violence because trying to form it into words made him feel foolish.

It seems like you’re both similar in that way, maybe you don't need him trying to gently coax it out of you.

Maybe you need a fight to let it all come pouring out.

You’re furious by the time he’s dragged you into the tiny bathroom. Baring your teeth like a snarling beast as you yank your wrist from his tense grip.

The contact had thrown you. Your heart stopping before it broke out into a chaotic gallop that you could almost believe would be heard by the Mandalorian as he took an intimidating step closer.

The blank slate of his visor had bore into you and you had felt it so excruciatingly - the weight of his assessment, the crushing force of your own insecurities as he crowded you. Close enough that everything you considered a flaw was laid before his eyes in startling clarity and reflected back at you in the mirror sheen of his helmet.

It made your stomach churn, anxiety crawling through your chest, an icy hand that winds around your neck and grips tight until his sudden touch had shattered its hold.

"Come with me.” He’d growled.

And temporarily stunned, you’d gone. Stumbling to keep up as he all but dragged you away from the roaring noise of music and clashing conversations to a room so quiet you could hear your blood rushing in your ears as your surprise gave way to anger.

"What the fuck are you doing?” You hiss, ripping away from him as he slams the door closed behind him. “We’re supposed to be waiting for someone.”

You make to push past him and he doesn't budge an inch, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he looms over you. An immovable wall of solid beskar. “We’re not doing anything else for this job until you tell me what’s going on with you.”

You glare at him, fists clenched tight at your sides “I said it was nothing.”

"And like I said, you’re a fucking terrible liar.” He shoots back.

Why do you even care, you want to scream. There’s a fierce energy building inside you, the volatile kind - self-destructive - born from too many emotions spinning through your head. You try and focus on the steady drip of the faucet to will it down - counting specks of mould on the worn tiles - how many times the light can flicker in between each uncomfortable breath you take.

"It doesn’t matter.” You grit, attempting to assert some kind of authority of the situation. “All that matters is that we have a job to do and we’re wasting time.”

It doesn’t work.

"No. We’re out. I’m calling it.” He advances on you slowly, his tone creeping towards irritation at the stubbornness of your denial. “You’re too distracted, lost somewhere in your own head. You might not give a shit that it could get you killed but I do.”

Suddenly there’s a wave of tears building - burning behind your nose - those nasty little voices purring through your skull as you gape at him.

Useless.

Can’t even do the one thing he keeps you around for, your job.

Why would he ever look at you the way you wish he would when all you are is a constant hindrance to him.

And then you get defensive, that energy bursting hot and fast through your blood before you can slam it down.

"You don’t get to make that decision for me Mando.” You snarl, swatting away his outstretched hand that reaches for you when expression threatens to crumble. “Don’t! You don’t have to keep pretending you care, I know I’m dispensable, if I die you can get another partner anywhere.”

He reels back as if you’ve struck him. “You really think I’d do that?”

"Why not! It’s not like I’m special is it? There’s heaps of other hunters out there, one’s more skilled - more reliable - probably easier on the eyes too.” You laugh humourlessly, eyes stinging with salt as you begin to pace. Ignoring the gentle lilt of your name that he tries to offer as a grounding force, something to bring you back to him when you’re clearly beginning to spiral.

"Hell you could replace me right here and now if it’ll make your life easier.” You babble. “Just think of all the credits you can rake in, not having to put up with my shit anymore.”

Your breaths are starting to come quick and shallow and before you can say anything else Mando is immediately in front of you - his hands snatching at your shoulders before he drags you into a bone-crushing hug.

You struggle against it for a moment - a fighter down to the last possible second - and then you fall apart. Harsh, ugly sobs wracking your frame whilst his gloved hand smooths over your hair, his helmet pressed to your temple as he makes soft mouthed sounds to try and comfort you.

He waits until your cries quieten down, until the quake of your body lessens to a light shudder and then he tilts his head to look at you. “Look at me. Look at me - mesh’la - please.” He murmurs.

You shake your head. You don’t want to see how pathetic you look, can’t bear the thought of what will stare back at you in the reflection of his beskar.

"Please.” He repeats.

You bury your face closer into his cowl, croaking “I can’t.”

There’s a beat of silence - disrupted only by the rhythmic drip drip drip from the faucet. And then he’s sighing - a desperately sad sound that twists something vital in your chest until you're sure you’ll feel a snap.

"Can you tell me why?” He murmurs, hesitance bleeding through him as you stiffen in his arms and he swallows thickly. “It’s not just now is it, you haven’t been able to look at me in days and if it’s because of something I’ve done - if I’ve made you feel this way - then I need to know. I need to make it right, because I can’t lose you.”

Oh - oh no - he thinks it's his fault.

Your throat closes up and for a moment you feel like you could cry all over again. He carries a guilt that has never been his to bear and it wounds you in some way - that this man who has only known you for such a short time takes your happiness so personally that he would beg to right a wrong that he’s not even sure he himself had made.

He says that he can’t lose you like he refuses to entertain a scenario where you’re not by his side and you don’t even realise that you’re practically crushing him to you in another fierce embrace until you feel the gentle weight of his helmet resting against the crown of your head.

"It's not you Mando." You blurt, a soft flutter brushing through your chest when he squeezes you tight as his body sags with relief. But only seconds later he stiffens again and you know he’s heard it. The implication. It’s not you. There’s someone else.

You know he’s worked it out by the sudden change in how he holds you - the subtle shift from comforting to protective - his body all but curling around yours.

He growls. “Who.” And you shudder.

You need to explain and fast before he decides to storm out of the bathroom and track down everyone who’s come into contact with you in the past few days. This job you’ve been on had required a lot of stealth so as to not tip off your target and if you were going to pick up where you left off after everything then the last thing you needed was your Mandalorian going on a vengeful rampage.

He lets you untangle yourself from him reluctantly, follows like a shadow when you point to a spot on the floor and state lamely. “We should probably sit for this.”

You can feel his eyes on you as you slide down the wall, as you fold your legs only to stretch them out in front of you not even a moment later. He’s not stupid, you know that, you know Mando is wisely giving you the time you need - refraining from pushing whilst you try and get your head together under the guise of making yourself comfortable on the grimy floor.

When you’re as ready as you think you’ll ever be you take a deep breath to begin but suddenly find yourself hesitating.

Were you really going to tell him? Could you let every sad little truth pour from you when you've spent so long plugging it up, shoving it down. Building a damn in your mind and your heart to keep it from making a mess for those around you.

Hunters were meant to be strong - an undeniable, deadly force. They didn't do insecurities - self-doubt - weaknesses. At least that's what you'd always been told. It's the impression you got from every one you ever met, including Mando.

So how could you tell him that you were haunted by all of them. That every now and again they ripped into you and made you feel like your worth was less than nothing. How could you lay yourself emotionally bare like that and expect that he would still look at you the same after?

…Except hadn't you already? You had spiralled before his very eyes. You had screamed and cried and shattered to pieces and yet… there had been no judgement.

There had been nothing from him except comfort and patience. The press of his body against yours as he held you like you were infinitely precious - like he wished nothing more than to be a barrier against all these things he was clueless about except for the fact they were trying to hurt you.

"Did you know I always wanted to be a hunter?” You ask so suddenly that he jerks, surprised.

It makes you smile when he softly shakes his head , when he shifts from his relaxed position against the wall and tilts his body towards yours as you offer a rare glimpse into the life you had before him.

"I thought it sounded like the coolest job ever.” You recall. “Getting paid to chase down bad people and learning how to use a shit load of weapons? What more could I want? And it turned out I was good at it, better than a lot of other things I’d tried to force myself into growing up.”

He makes a soft noise of agreement - like he gets it - and your lips twitch. “When I returned home after a really long time of taking pretty much every job that came my way, I thought my parents would be proud. I thought they’d be happy I had made some kind of a life for myself and that I wasn’t struggling for money like they had worried I would when I decided to make my own way instead of relying on them.”

You close your eyes as the memory resurfaces. “They weren’t. My dad basically said I was no better than a vulture, feeding off other people’s misfortune, but my mum…”

Your voice cracks and you swallow hard, fingers picking at a still healing wound on your hand before a gloved one stops you. Silently lacing thick fingers through your own as you struggle not to sob.

“My mum told me I had ruined myself. My face and my body. I had forgotten how obsessed she could be with our family’s image and legacy until she told me that no one would want someone who was covered in scars or who’s nose or teeth weren’t perfectly straight because they’d been damaged too many times fighting with bounties."

He sucks in a breath and you can feel it. His rage.

It pours from him in waves as he visibly bristles beside you, drenching his voice when he rasps your name and you have to hurriedly continue. Shoving the rest of the story out of you because if you stop and let yourself wallow in the emotions clawing at the pair of you then you may never fully get the weight of it off your chest.

"I told her I didn’t care.” You spit. “That if my appearance bothered people that much then maybe they were the type of people I didn't want to be around. And it had been the truth, I fucking meant every word.”

"But then I started noticing the way some people would look at me, the way they’d be scrutinising my face or my hair or what I was wearing and I’d hear her voice in my head again.” You don’t realise you’ve trailed off, gone distant, until the soft pressure of Mando’s thumb drawing circles on your hand brings you back.

"I started wondering if they thought the same as her when they looked at me too and then it was like I couldn’t stop. Eventually it happened enough that when I was looking at myself, sometimes I started to think it too.”

His fingers tighten around yours, the soft, aching sigh of “Cyar’ika” slipping through the modulator wrapping around the pain in your chest.

You sniff and your voice comes out thin - watery. “There’s days where I still hear it and when I look in the mirror, or something reflective like your armour, it’s all I can see. But at least I’m still a good hunter right, I’ve got that left? Only, today I completely fucked that up too. So when I can’t look at you Mando, it’s not because you’ve done anything to hurt me or piss me off, it's because when I do, all I can see is how much I disgust myself.”

There’s silence between you as he digests everything. It stretches out and allows your thoughts to wander with it - undecided if what you feel after all that was said is relief or something else. It’s nice that you’ve been able to talk about something that has pained you for so long but now Mando has another piece of you that no one else does - the part of you that is most vulnerable - and you don’t really know what to do with that.

"They don’t deserve you.” He mutters suddenly, so quietly that you almost had to question if you’d simply been hearing things.

You frown. “Who?”

He has your hand in his lap now, cradling it in his larger one as he traces nervous patterns with the other. His voice is steady however, utterly serious. “Your parents, the people who give you those looks. Anyone who can look at you and not see how incredible you are.”

Your chest spasms and you look at him in surprise before your lips attempt to curve into a weak imitation of a smile.

"I appreciate you trying to make me feel better Mando but…”

"Don’t do that.” He chastises you gently. “Whatever voice is telling you right now that you aren’t worthy of being told what I’m about to say to you, I want you to tell it to shut the fuck up and listen to me.”

You snort and the way he tilts his helmet in your direction makes you pretty sure he’s currently got his eyes narrowed at you, an expression on his face that would probably say if you don’t listen, I’ll find a way to make you. You nod for him to continue.

"You are incredible.” He reiterates. “You chose to make something of yourself when you could have had an easy life and you fucking excelled at it. You’re one of the best hunters I’ve ever seen even on your off days and you’ve saved my ass more times than I’d like to count.”

You murmur a sly seven and quicker than you can react he pinches your thigh. A yelp bursts from your throat followed by a shaky laugh and it’s a quick reprieve from the way the pride in his voice was making your ribs constrict.

"You’re a genuinely good person, I’ve never seen you turn away a single person who’s come to you for help and you constantly go out of your way for people. Even those who probably don’t deserve it, like me.” He sees the way you open your mouth to argue and quickly holds up a hand to stop you, shrugging. “I was an asshole when we met, don't deny it.”

He had been. But you had sensed that there was something underneath it all. That there was more than met the eye when it came to this particular Mandalorian and you had been intrigued. And also right.

He shifts next to you and then there’s the brush of buttery-soft leather at your jaw. Hesitant fingertips tilting your face fully towards him as his helmet hovers just above your forehead and you gulp.

"Mando…” You whisper.

"Your mother called you ruined but that’s not what I see when I look at you.” He breathes and you tremble as he palms your cheek. “Every part of you is beautiful and there is nothing that black eyes, bruises, broken bones and scars can do to take that away. They only add to it. They prove that you’re a fucking warrior. That you’ve lived and fought and survived everything the galaxy has had to throw at you. How can your body be ruined when its remained strong and kept you alive despite the hell you’ve been through?”

Something breaks inside you - you’re crying and you don’t even realise it until Mando’s other hand leaves yours to gently swipe away the tears with both thumbs.

It’s the loveliest thing anyone has ever said to you and it seems to highlight the fucking number that those words from your mother have done on you - the fact that you have no idea how to take what Mando has said. How you're supposed to believe it.

But you want to.

You desperately want to believe it so you can drown out the poison in your head with it. Take all those pretty words and lock them safe in your heart for when you next need them.

And unsurprisingly, thanks to how adept you've become at reading the other, Mando instantly catches on to your internal struggle.

"You don't have to believe me right now." He tells you softly. "I know it won't magically make everything go away and you'll suddenly see yourself the way I see you."

He leans back and pulls you with him, tugging you into his chest - the cold kiss of beskar soothing beneath your tear-stained cheeks - as his arms wrap around your shoulders and waist. His chin notched at your crown and the venomous voice in your mind more quiet than it had been in days as you eased into his comfort.

"But one day you will and until that happens I'll gladly be there to remind you as many times as you need me to."

You choose to believe that, a hopeful smile tugging at your lips as you lift your head from its place buried in his neck, to place a soft kiss to the cheek of helmet and whisper. "Thank you Mando."

You choose to believe that you'll always have him by your side. That the ugly words staining your memories will fade eventually.

That one day you'll see yourself as the warrior you've always been.

And for now that's enough.

Main taglist: @autumnleaves1991-blog @ecuadorlady @readsalot73 @acourtofsnakes @justanotherblonde23 @tiffanyblew @alexmarie29 @simsiddy @dihra-vesa @gingerbreadandpaper @sleep-tight1 @prettylilhalforc @mstgsmy @wildmoonflower

Pedro Taglist: @outlawedmando

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian fanfic #pedro pascal character fic

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waterloggedsoliloquy · 1 month

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okay. here's the scene. sicely is forced along at a fancy party bc THRAWN is forced along at a fancy party for high command and political leaders in the outer rim. pryce got her own ticket bc shes the governor of lothal and her plus one is Publicity Boytoy #4, a human man whose name she will forget by the end of the evening but it is still likely enough that he'll annoy her to a high enough degree for her to want to have sex with him (i do not believe pryce is capable of non-caliginous attraction). even if she could she wouldn't want to go alongside thrawn again because his capability to infuriate and exhaust her beggars belief. and thrawn hates her with an icy seething passion. and due to the aforementioned caliginous-exclusive romance one might think this would mean pryce would be attracted to thrawn and you would be right. but it's really not worth pursuing that at all, because thrawn has the romantic capacity of one of those self-guided museum tour casettes with the anodyne voices, or maybe a picture on r/malelivingspaces where a bunch of Ayn Rand books are displayed prominently on a shelf in a clearly-inherited house. and also he annoys her with his constant questions and generally helpless demeanor in any context where he does not have complete control and authority. so going with her is out. and eli cant come because he's off in the unknown regions listening to a holodrama in Cheunh and getting happy he understands 85% of it (he is missing a decent amount of cultural context due to grammatical cases and familial-standing based honorifics and sentence structure). faro has her own ticket too because her uncle is a patron and benefactor for many Outer Rim charities and gentlemen's clubs, and he dotes on her. so she cant be thrawns plus one nor can he be hers because she's going to spend the entire time at this thinly-veiled diplomatic insider trading scam of an event having her first normal conversation in a year with family, and if thrawn goes with her he will be introduced to that family (nightmare scenario. never again). so thrawns option is his only other friend, a 16 year old he more or less kidnapped and has entered an uneasy truce with. is this pathetic? profoundly. the depths of thrawn's patheticness and overall dysfunction is some kind of ocean trench or hole in which i seem to be the only bastard blazing bravely downward.

SICELY: I don't want to go. THRAWN: It is not optional. SICELY: Why the hell not? THRAWN: You are a cultural attaché and a diplomatic representative of your people. There will be many ambassadors there. It is a learning experience. SICELY: Can you put it in writing that I hate thiS, I hate partieS, I will go kicking and Screaming, I hate you, and if you make me wear a Stupid fancy outfit I will Screech like a branded banSheeSteed?

Thrawn wordlessly opens up his datapad, types it all out, attributes the quote to Sicely, and turns it around to show them.

SICELY: Thank you.

Sicely agrees to go to the party and even gets convinced to put on a nice outfit (given as they dislike being unable to wear anything than an officer's uniform, Faro frames it as a break from monotony and Sicely says it must be difficult being right all the time. Faro concurs). Thrawn, being only able to analyze fashion within the context of it being an artistic statement, is the kind of guy to wear white to a wedding. It takes the combined effort of nearly every woman in his bridge crew (which is most of them, Thrawn hates working with men) to convince him to not just wear his standard uniform and gives him a catalogue full of options.

Anyways. The commute to the party is mostly painless after this point and the party itself is mostly the same as usual, Sicely haunting the air by Thrawn's elbow like some sort of wraith comprised entirely out of teenage spite, Thrawn trying to hard to remember the difference between his polite eye contact face and menacing inquisitive eye contact face that he keeps missing what people say to him. there's music playing. ronan is there, being insufferable. tarkin is there, being insufferable and terrifying. if krennic is also here there will inevitably be A Scene. eventually sicely gets bored of trying to subtly help Thrawn save face when talking to people (he just called a woman's outfit "appropriate for the ocassion" and even Sicely is aware that that's ruder than when they said she looks draped in tinsel) so they wander off, like a husky whose owner dropped the leash, or a balloon halfway filled with helium and halfway filled with a suicide's ghost. everyone at this party looks garish and varying degrees of miserable to talk to, which does in part remind sicely of home, but the kind of diplomatic misery present here is an altogether different breed one could expect from highblooded children, and most of the parties sicely went to as a kid were shindigs, hootenannies, barn-burners, and halloween parties where everyone drank age-appropriate drinks which were not illegal. so one can imagine they feel a bit lonely.

and then finally they hear it: one adolescent voice ringing out above the rest. there is one other teenager at this party. sicely makes a beeline for it. it's a brown-haired human girl dressed in all white, and shes chewing out some senator with as much vitriol as can be acceptable in such a setting as this. this rather quickly scares off said senator, and sicely (holding their mocktail) steps in before someone else can command her attention. the first thing she sees is, of course, their stupid cactus antlers. the second thing she sees is the chimaera insignia on their stupid suit.

SICELY: Um. Hi-- LEIA: You're a bit young to be a Navyman terrorizing the Outer Rim, aren't you? LEIA: Or are you simply a fan of the works of the Seventh Fleet? LEIA: I don't know how you people find the gall to come here and rub elbows with senators and charity organizers outright working to undo the very damage of the atrocities you and the rest of the Navy cause.

Sicely can't help it. They grin.

LEIA: You ought to be ashamed of yourself if you think this is funny. LEIA: Surely your people are among the ones being subjugated by Tarkin's great work? SICELY: Oh, nah-- my people are off Subjugglating elSewhere. LEIA: Oh! Lovely to know there's scum anywhere you go in the galaxy. SICELY: Can you yell at me some more?

It's only when they find out that she's a princess that Sicely realizes they have one goal in life: become dashing butch knight. pull Princess Leia.

#cecil drawls #long post #YOU SEE MY VISION #SICELY VC IM SCRUFFY IM ROGUEISH IM HANDSOME DO YOU LIKE GIRLS #sicely nohell

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freakinflipflop · 6 months

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Hm actually. I just had a jay ferin character design thought

Now I don't know too much about sailing on the open ocean but. I feel like it's been implied that it gets Hot. Both with the general design choices on pirate clothing and the fact that working hard labor all day in unfiltered sun.

So uh. Why was girlie wearing a jacket? A dark colored jacket, implied to be fur lined?????

And hold on. Is that dark color...... navy blue??

OK so. Hear me out. Jay Ferin early character design: her ACTIVELY facing discomfort in order to hold on to the part of her identity aligned with the Navy. Her clinging to her navy uniform bc it's familiar, even when the sweat's dripping down her back and it's hard to focus with heat exhaustion. When she finds the blazing hot sun she looks away. Even when she sees the damage that the Navy has caused to people she's starting to call family. She's still suffering through the heat for that comfortable conformity.

#jrwi #jrwi riptide #jay ferin #i could logucally extend this to her later design but i am currently busy 😔#flippin flops

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baeddelicto · 9 months

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MÆRA

(Older woman/boy(girl), v light gore, somno?, hypno?, idk i dint actually knw how to label writng mech?)

930 words

《Incubation in 3..2..1..》

*krxh* "Dont you fret hun, i know its daunting down there in that chamber but we're up here with sweaty palms too. Now the fluid is breathable and full of that sweet ambrosia so go ahead and take a breath, relax, and drift away" *khp*

She's right its always a crapshoot isnt it tryn sumthn new nd honestly this fluid hasnt even reached my mouth and i already feel better, less tense, floaty like a salt bath if it were the color and viscosity of dirty engine oil...

Smells sweet, ambrosia huh, hear goes... tastes sweet not that hard to move through my lungs actually, i wonder how lon....

■

"Slipped right past hypnogogia... hope that ain't the case on the flipside. Lower the serum dosage 20%."

"Yessir, entering stage 3......stage 4..... cresting, begining reentry, stage 3"

"Drop another 20. Shit boy slow down. He lied to you Doc."

"It would seem so."

"0 drinks a day my ass."

"We've reached hypnopompia sir."

"Atonia?"

"Yessir!"

"Hot Dog!"

■

Fuck, fuck why can't i talk? Shit somethings wrong w the fluid i cant move! What is-

"Hey sugar, im sure youre all worked up by now so im gonna remind you of earlier when i told you dont fret but um now im not gonna say that bc right now thats what you need. That fear got you real focused. And i need you to take that focus and push out. Focus on the edges of your vision and try to see past all that filth in that pit."

Oh its Jacinta...thats nice... i guess i should listen to her and do something other than freaking out. seems simple enough. Fuck i didnt think a dark room could spin this much. Dont hurl. No hurling. Pleass God. Wait how did Jacinta get in my-

Woah im outside.... That ridgeline its the Salspar Escarpment...

"There you go, Youre a natural kiddo! Now walk toward the escarpment keep your eyes on Salvor's Peak."

I can do that... heh mom always said i needed direction gues i got one. East by Southeast. Honestly one of the better directions westerly spring winds and the rings of Sarthis blaze violet in the afternoon sun. Oh fuck almost tripped that would have been embarassing Jacinta would hav- Why do my feet look so weird and my legs i look lik afucking bug! FUCK oh god wheres my dick?! Wheres my SkIN! FUCKFUKfuckFug I cant feel anything why didnt my knees hurt when i fall? My hands are tearing into my thighs but i cant feel it FUck im bleeding fuCk its everywhr fuck i-

■

"heyy kid how ya feeln?"

Jacinta whispers to me as she lightly brushes the hair out of my face. Her weight was flushing the mattress so that the side of my hip was pressed into hers. She clasps her hand to my brow then traces the half moon of my face to my cheek. Her raven hair glows a deep amber in the evening light streaming in from the window. She gave a crooked smile.

"You're burnin up bud. We gotta get some fluids in you..." She turns to a small table behind her, a messy plait spills over her shoulder and swishes over the small of her back. The rattle of paper on board heralds

"Petragua or citralyte?"

I nod to the petragua and she replaces the other and proffers my mouth a straw. She gazes down at me warmly as i suck down the plum-apricot-chem slurry. The infusion perks me up a bit.

"Alright now don't drain it dry. Don't want it coming back up all over my vest." She pulls it from my lips and i eek a short and quiet suckng sound that manages a full 5 seconds of embarrassment even though the sound was .3 seconds long.

"Kid ill be real with ya. You did great..exceptional even! Most of the time we dont even get to a stroll the first time we just... well its a whole lot more work on my end than what happened with you so i just wanted to say... im proud of you."

She squeezes my shoulder and feathers her hand to my cheek again.

"I know all this been hard on you and you've put in a lot of work before you even got in the pit and it payed off." She picks up the petragua again and hangs it in the air for a second.

"To all your work...and all of our work... and to your health." She sips some of it then positions it back towards me again. I slurp with even more energy this time.

"Having such a strong liminal drive link seams to really make a difference. Honestly i think you two should meet but we have to get clearance pfft its bullshit. How are you supposed to pilot together if you dont even know eachother? How are we supposed to figure out what this spark is that makes the liminal drive work if we never get to observe you interacting in a controled manner? I swear im gonna have a word-"

*slurpppppp* she pulls it from my face.

"Oh listen to me blathern on, you got another 18 hours til youre on rotation again. You can head back to your room whenever. Ill see you then ok? I just wanted to check in on you." And with that she rises, throws her vest on, and clacks and jingles out the door with a two finger wave lingering behind her with her plait.

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ayyyez · 1 year

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In honor of the "wife thinks about Madara just standing there during sex" post, how about Madara watching his s/o masturbate? 🤣

a/n: you know when I opened requests I just KNEW I'd get some sort of random Madara smut request like this but OF COURSE it's in reference to that post lmao but yeah sure why not. Also I wasn’t sure if you wanted vaginal masturbation or what not so I kept it vague on that front. Haha thanks for sending in the request.

warnings: smut, sexual content

tags: smut, masturbation, teasing, banter, under the cut bc smut

Madara wonders how he finds himself in this position, watching you touch yourself while he’s impossibly hard and unable to touch you but he’s also unable to look away. He’s enraptured by the sight in front of him.

It starts with some innocent flirting that leads to some hot making out and then the inevitable banter. It’s like the two of you just can’t help yourselves (in every way).

It’s because of the banter really, the battle to one up each other while in the throws of heat. That and the passing dirty talk question he asks. ‘You want me to touch you? You want me to me make you feel good like only I can?’

Now you don’t know why that flicked a particular switch inside you today. Other days it would make you chuckle. Some others it’d have you rolling your eyes but agreeing. Today though it got you up for the challenge.

‘Oh.’ You say pulling back a little. ‘You think I need you to touch me to make me feel good?’ You narrow your eyes. ‘I can get myself off just fine without your help.’

His smirk fades as he studies your expression. His firm grip loosens. The gears in his head are turning. He hadn’t expected that and he’s thinking.

You lift your chin for good measure daring him to test you.

‘Is that so?’ He finally says, removing his grip entirely. ‘Perhaps you ought to show me then just how good you can get off without my help.’

And that’s how he finds himself getting a grand show just for him. You’re sprawled out on the bed one leg bend, the other wide open giving him full view. You’re working your hand just how you like, your hands getting slick. You can see how worked up he’s getting too the fierceness in his eyes.

He’s shirtless but his pants are still on. He’s hard of course, so very hard tentingagainst them. The only relief he’s allowing is the occassional hand rub to give sweet relief against the strain of the fabric.

You make a show of running your other hand over your chest. You fondle it a little, thumbing a nipple and grazing it. It makes him growl. He wants to be the one touching it, touching you. He’s practically whinning.

His eyes though never leave you. Whether they’re following your hand motions, the outlining the contours of your body of just meeting your heated gaze. It ignites a new blaze of passion every time.

God, you want each other and knowing you’re playing this game of not being able to touch each other just makes it so much hotter. Your entire body is on fire and the more you work yourself the more you think maybe you should give in and let him touch you.

But then he smirks and it pushes you to prove yourself.

Especially since his own self resolve seems to be breaking. He’s bringing his own hand to his crouch more and more. He’s spurring you on now.

‘Yes, just like that.’ There were no rules about verbal help alongs after all only touching. ‘Touch yourself for me.’ Of course he had to make this all about him when you were proving you could do this yourself.

With new found need you pushed yourself on to the grand finale.

Feeling that familiar build, that coil tighten ready to snap. Your moans were spilling and your thighs trembling but you tried to keep them open since you were putting on a show after all.

You are vaguely aware of Madara encouraging you along. Rubbing himself in time with your motions and moans. Damn why is this so hot? You forget what this was all about in the first place and you’re coming.

When you come down from you’re high he’s already over you.

‘I can’t stay away for a second more.’

He’s asking for permission to touch you because needy man cannot stand being away from you and you just reved him up ready for the main round if you’ve got it in you.

#request #nart request #madara request #madara uchiha request #madara #madara uchiha #smut #madara smut #teasing #banter #anon request #anon #lol this was fun to write #headcanons #hcs

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fonulyn · 7 months

Text

I've been thinking about Infinite Darkness again, as one does lol, and especially why I'm not super fond of Claire in it. it's been hard to come to terms with that because I started out loving Claire, she's always been one of my favorites, she's fierce and loyal and does anything she has to for what she considers to be the right thing, the fair thing. I love her fierce attitude in re2 remake, and I despite Degeneration's shortcomings as a movie I loved how Claire was portrayed in it, that she'd chosen her own path and she was working tirelessly to make the world a safer place her own way.

which is also why I don't agree with the take that she was sidelined in ID because she didn't get to go in guns blazing, because to me it felt very natural to her almost anti-gun stance in Degeneration, AND because holy shit people a female character does not need to go around waving weapons to be badass?? she does the brainy thing, she figures out the entire conspiracy on her own, but she gets no credit for that feat?? bc she doesn't shoot enough guns?? yeah no. she did great. but I digress.

so, I went into ID loving Claire and came out of it annoyed as hell, feeling like she'd been betrayed and done dirty, but it's so hard to put a finger on why exactly. there's something about how she acts, something about how she specifically interacts with other people, that feels so awkward and so unlike her. she's so needlessly antagonistic, for one.

(and the ramble continues under a cut bc this got long)

and honestly, I think the main issue I have with her is that they dumbed her down. she's not an idiot. and somehow she still apparently assumes that a government agent can just answer all her questions and spill all secrets, and then she gets huffy when he doesn't? I get it that it sucks being dismissed by a friend, but at the same time they're not interacting as friends there, but as representatives of their respective organizations. I can't assume my doctor friend would spill all the info on her patients just because we're friends, exactly like I wouldn't tell her private info about my students. sometimes a person's job does come in the way. and Claire should be clever enough to know that and not just get pissy when she doesn't get what she wants.

and even bigger issue is the ending scene. it starts off so nice, all joking, and then when Leon says that he thought he told Claire not to do anything stupid while clearly in on the joke, Claire suddenly goes all "HEY I'M JOKING"?? yeah Claire, we know, everyone knows, but suddenly she decides to flip a switch and go from joking to angry.

and the "when are you going to stop treating me like a kid" line? it's just blatantly wrong. in re2? they don't even spend that much time together but when they do, they clearly treat each other as equals. in Degeneration? another character dismisses Claire and Leon immediately jumps in to defend her and let them know how capable she is. he and Claire talk about different paths, but in no way is it ever even hinted at that one of the paths would be better or worse than the other. there's never ever been anything but mutual respect between them. and I think it's a huge disservice to both to just dimiss that.

AND the infamous Chip of Destiny™. again, Claire is not stupid. she should know that the conspiracy goes deeper than just Wilson, and just exposing him will drive all the rest of the bad guys deeper underground where they'll be impossible to find. and even more importantly, exposing that information would paint the most ginormous target on her back, she'd be hunted down. and while that might be a risk she's willing to take, she also should respect that it's not something Leon is willing to do to her.

(I'm not saying Leon is blameless in that scene either, he could've spelled it out for her, like he did to Shen May earlier on. he could've at least tried to explain his side. instead he just clams down and makes things worse. I understand his motivations, he thinks he can dismantle the corruption from the inside (erroneously as we know but he's operating with way more limited info than we are) and he doesn't want to put Claire in danger. but damnit boy, open your mouth and say it, if not in that many words then at least some vague version of it!)

so yeah, I think that sums up my biggest issues with Claire in ID. she clearly is bright and can use her brain but then she has a couple of moments where she just. doesn't. for some reason. and how she's so needlessly antagonistic. she's always been ready to throw down if necessary, which I've always loved, but she's never snapped at people like she does at Leon in ID. it's like she's intentionally trying to be mean and I just can't fit that into my perception of Claire, I can't.

with all that said, ID is still one of my favorites of the animated RE movies (yes it's a movie lol), it just bothers me that they did this to her. she deserved better!

#rant #or #meta #idk which fits better lmao #probably rant bc i am annoyed but damnit #or more disappointed than annoyed tbh #infinite darkness #characterization #claire redfield

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sweatandwoe · 1 year

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Ghouls play hide & seek but dialed up to 11. Sibling of Sin is really good at hiding, bc they know all of Copia's best hiding spots. 😏

It's really not fair. To the ghouls at least. Agreeing to their game but hiding in plain sight.

Or not plain sight, but in a common spot. Somewhere they've already checked over a few times. But few would think you'd hide under Copia's desk, while he's currently using it.

Luckily, you know a way to make sure he won't tell the ghouls.

"Tesoro," it's a groan of the endearment. He's got one hand over his mouth, his eyes rolling back slightly. "You can't keep doing this, amore mio."

You continue to move your hands, smiling at him. You lean forward, to press a kiss to his reddening cheeks. Then another to his nose, while you continue to move your hands back and forth, twisting your fingers just so, getting him to groan.

"Fuck." His hands go to catch your wrists, mismatched gaze blazing while he gazes into your eyes. "Tesoro, you need to stop."

You pout at him, and the fire smolders out a bit. Enough for him to lean forward, to brush his lips and mustache over your forehead. "Did it feel good, at least?"

"Yes. You know it did." He says, mismatched gaze narrowing at your smile. But he releases your wrists and cranes his neck from side to side. "Your massages are always so... stupendo."

It's easy to grin, moving back to kneeling like you had before he mentioned his stiff shoulders. His eyebrows shoot up for a moment before you slide under his desk and he sighs, tucking himself in. "Thank you, Copia."

"I still don't know why you play this game with the ghouls."

"They need enrichment." You explain easily, moving to rest your head against his knee. His hand quickly comes to rest on your head, playing a little with the hair there. "Hide and seek seems to help them be less antsy."

"Less likely to knock shit off of my desk."

"That too." You sigh, relaxing on the floor. Copia is used to the game enough to have a cushion to rest your legs on. And for other reasons. You turn slightly, glancing over his legs, running your eyes up his form. He can't see your grin from where you are under the desk, but soon your hands are resting on his calves, slowly drawing them upwards. "But I can't let my Papa get antsy either."

His body stiffens, fingers tugging at the hair so close to your scalp. "Tesoro." It's a warning, but you make sure your giggle is loud enough for him to hear it.

"Copia," and you relish in how he groans when you say his name like a purr. You re-adjust yourself, hands moving to his knees and spreading them just enough to get between them. "I think I can find another way of enrichment. For myself, at least."

His fingers tighten in your hair, and you smile when he peeks down at you. One eyebrow raises before he smirks. "You want to play a game then, tesoro? For your enrichment?"

"Oh, yes, Papa."

He smiles, but there's an edge to it while he moves to cup your cheek instead. "It has been a while since we've tried to play Hide the Sausage."

You stare up at him, seeing his lips twitch. "I don't think I need enrichment anymore."

The man breaks out a chuckle, a glimpse of the laugh trying to get free. "Oh come on, amore! That was a good one."

You hoped the ghouls appreciated the game, as Copia began to use your presence as a backboard to as many heinous jokes as he could manage.

Should've sucked his dick right away, you think, as he goes on about something with rigatoni and starts laughing before even finishing the joke. Gazing at him, watching him laugh while he works, it's hard not to smile. At least it's a cute sight while you wait for the ghouls.

#mdni #cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia #ghost band #copia

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boxwinebaddie · 3 months

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did kyle cry when he found out raven was stan

yes...A Lot.

which is kind of a big deal, because jersey kyle...

never cries.

ever.

so its a large part of the Why Can't Jersey Say I Love You ask meme, that, ik, is taking me forever -- i have so many asks rn haha -- but for the sake of context/lore, i will summarize part of it here. ( badly )

in essence, kyle, who is the least okay/mentally fortified person ever, is under the false pretense that everything in his life is fine...bc he refuses to process that it isn't. because to him, as long as everything is going to plan, w/ no detours or distractions...Everything Is Perfect.

see, kyle...likes to plan. kyle likes order. kyle does not like chaos.

he does not like to deal with messy, complex human emotions, fussy things, upsetting things, dramatic things, any kind of touchy feelings. its inefficient, makes you vulnerable, its embarrassing, its impractical. most of all...its unpleasant/upsetting. kyle doesn’t do unpleasant and upsetting...kyle Is unpleasant and upsetting.

and after stan died...kyle wept inconsolably. he cried rivers, lakes and oceans, day in and day out, only to realize that all the puffy eyed, red cheeked, blubbering and snot...were for naught, because kyle could cry until he died of dehydration, sob until his chest was swollen, scream until his throat was raw & bloody; it didn't matter.

because it wouldn't bring stan back.

...that no matter what he did, how hard he begged, bartered or pleaded...at the end of the day, his sweet, precious stanley marsh was still Dead and kyle was still the same sad little boy he always was, drowning in his sorrows & his dead super best friend's jacket, weak and whimpering, eyes warbling. a waste. a weakling. a worm.

so one day...he just...Stopped.

he just stopped feeling things.

completely.

as a coping mechanism ( aka not-coping ) he just decided to compartmentalize all those uncomfortable, intense feelings, anything that wasn't useful to him and ignored them all together. pretended like they didn't exist. will not humor them. which makes sense bc in addition to not crying, kyle also doesn't laugh.

this, i think, is interesting because, to keep himself 'safe' and in working order at all times, kyle doesn't think about unpleasant things, he also is outwardly abhorrent to prevent things from getting to close to him, anything he could get attached to or might get sentimental about because he doesn't like to be vulnerable at all.

conversely, stan feels things extremely deeply and all the time. so he is constantly in distress and disarray because at all times, he is aware of how Sad he is and can't compartmentalize things like kyle can.

( can we see why it might be super easy for ravenstan to tell someone he loves them and why it would be really hard for jerseykyle? fML )

but back to kyle who count on both hands...maybe one hand...the amount of times he's cried.

he cried the morning after the sadie hawkins dance in sixth grade when all the news crews and ambulances and firetrucks were at stans old house, watching them put shelley in a body bag, and telling him like, in stans jacket, that they couldn't find him and that the flames were so hot that he probably got incinerated in the blaze.

he cried when he found out raven was stan. it was...a lot.

he also cried...

...when they broke up during the ravesey divorce. </3

like it was....Oooooof. it was so sad and fucked up. like when i tell you jersey kyle, like scary ass jerseykyle, who never bends to Anyone, was literally on his hands and knees begging ravenstan to stay I'MMM :(

he was clinging onto the hem of stan's shorts, absolutely devastated, lip quivering, fucking hyperventilating like nononono--stan, don't go! please, Please don't go! please, please, please don't go! :(( don't leave!! don't leave!! waitwaitwait!!! i do! please just--just Wait!!! :(( i do, baby! i Really do! so, so much and -- i! FUCK!!! i can--i can Say it! please just give me one second! i can--NO!!! NONONO sTAN, PLEA

sigh....*narrator vc* He Could Not Say It.

it was sooooo goddamn AWFUL!!! like literally the one thing that kyle fears the most in the world is losing stanley marsh which had already happened once and was now happening AGAIN??? oh my Godddd

his abandonment issues are so gnarly :'(

aStandonment more like

he also held it together while stan was there, however, the second that door closed, kyle wept BROKENLY into stans big shirt, full body shaking, knees to his chest, loud, open mouth sobbing, the knees of his pajama pants drenched, desperately trying to reach stan, to try and explain himself with words that wouldn't come, only to find that stan had blocked him...On Everything.

it was AAAaaAAa ;-;

uUuUuGh!!! plus it's sooooo sad and Scary when jerseykyle cries because it basically triggers a massive, full-blown Panic Attack!! because he's like oh god why am i suddenly feeling every bad thing ive ever repressed? why can't i breathe? why does my Chest Hurt??

:(( jErSey

hell is a PLACE, bitch!

anyways...tldr: yes, kyle did cry when he found out raven was stan. he cried when he lost stan, found stan...and then lost stan again.

fun! :)

-uncle nina, jojo posing at the gates of gay boy angst hell

#i gotta stop doing the ask memes at the top of my box #BUT I AM PASSIONATE ABT THIS #also please note that stan was packing a bag and jersey was like nonononono where are u going where are u going :(#and stan was like Out and kyle was like stan its -10 degrees you are in a shirt and shorts like u cannot go out like that!!#i cant let you go unless i know youre somewhere safe #and ravenstan was like Kenny Is Picking Me Up #WHIIIIIIIIIIIICH OUGH MY GOD WHEN I TELL U KYLE WAS TRIGGERED AS HELL OH MY GOD THE VIOLENCE #like kenny was dating marj but u know hes still a little insecure abt kenny being in love with stan even if it was unrequited #but more than stan was sober and kenny was not also this was def abt to cause a stan bipolar ep so kyle was worried abt him #relapsing it was OOOOOOF marj and kenny also broke up during this period of time bc kenny took stans side and marj took kyles #ommmfg i cant talk abt the ravesey divorce i hate it so Bad #but i am very passionate abt jersey kyle and how he just made himself into a machine and like doesnt know how to be human #but yeah so jers does not feel things as a coping mechanism so he does not know how to process anything that is important #and doesnt cry bc its gross and insufficient and not useful to him he doesnt love people bc it is not practical #and he did that for so long and it was so dehumanizing that like he does not know how to be vulnerable or soft so #yeah...kyle does not cry if hes crying its for a good reason its also super bad bc hes probably having a panic attack #and is rly scared/upset bc he suddenly gets hit w all the waves of unpleasant human emotion he repressed & freaks out bc he doesnt kno #what to do....i love u jerseykyle even if u cant say it back bb

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canariie · 8 months

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Hiii I saw that you are taking fanfic requests and I'd love to rq a Hitsuhina future fic where they are married and with kids, maybe something in the same vein as Baby it's Cold Outside bc I absolutely adore how you wrote their interactions here and I think that there needs to be more content of Hitsuhina having a family of their own in general 💖

Thank you Anon for the lovely note! I am a HUGE fan of domestic fluff so it makes me so happy that you enjoyed it!

I have a multichapter WIP in the works, tentatively called faded, so I figured this would be a good one to answer with! There's still a lot that I have to write and plan; I want to take special care for this one because it was inspired by a conversation with a dear friend so please look out for it in the future!

For now, please enjoy this scene!

—

faded [selected scene]

Rating: K+

Synopsis: Toushiro and Momo watch the festival fireworks while her son sleeps.

Word Count: 860 words

Setting: post-Epilogue, fifty years (and then some) in the future when Momo and Toushiro are adults

—

“I’ve never seen you so gentle with anyone…” but me. Momo cleared her throat, focusing on the little boy’s dark curls. Against the dark of the night, they shone as the colours of the fireworks blazed in the background.

Toushiro laughed softly, running his fingers through Natsume’s hair slowly. “He’s very hard not to care for. I can see why he’s loved by everyone.” A ghost of a proud smile settled on his face, making Momo’s heart stutter.

“But what makes it the easiest,” he murmured, “is that all the best parts of him—they’re all from you.” Toushiro looked up, his teal eyes deepening to an emerald and Momo felt the breath escape from her chest. And just like that, she felt younger, though a warrior worn of battle, yet a girl less experienced in matters of the heart.

“His smile, his cheerful personality, his hair, his best belief in others—I’m glad he takes after you.” Natsume made a slight noise and Toushiro adjusted him, pulling him up onto his lap and letting the little boy sleep against his chest.

The scene was so tender and heart felt and it was just like she imagined a million times that it squeezed her heart, until it felt almost painful to breathe. Like a tidal wave of emotion, every single feeling that she had held back started to pour out, overwhelming her. Before she knew it, tears started streaming down her face, and she tried her best to quickly wipe them away.

“Hinamori?”

Momo shook her head quickly. “No, no these are happy tears,” she sniffled, trying to dab at her eyes with a handkerchief. “In my wildest dreams, I’ve always hoped to see the two of you together.”

Toushiro looked at her with the same look he gave Natsume before he pulled her to his side, settling his hand on her waist. “Nothing in my dreams would ever have compared to this.”

That made Momo cry even harder, tucking herself into Toushiro’s neck like she had done many times years ago when they were both younger and the world felt smaller. Inside she knew that was much too old for this—she was a mother for goodness sake—but under the cover of the night sky, she finally felt the courage to admit to herself that maybe she didn’t want to be alone anymore.

“Let’s just hope he isn’t a Bedwetter like his mother,” Momo could hear him chuckle to which she quickly jabbed him on the side. “That is a habit I grew out of years ago—and it was one time!” Momo defended, not raising her voice any higher to disturb the little boy. She swiped at the dried tear tracks, sending an attempt at a glare at the taller man, which did nothing to sway the smirk from his face.

There was a moment of quiet, and Momo could hear the voices from beyond slowly quiet and the lights flicker out, like summer fireflies bidding goodbyes. The fireworks were starting to slow, until the only light that remained was the lone white moon. It made the hair of the tenth captain shine and casted deep shadows on his face, brightening his eyes.

“But to be completely honest, Natsume’s best traits are his eyes. When I first saw him open them up after he was born,” Momo smiled wistfully pulling back the hair from Natsume’s forehead, “I immediately fell in love.

“They’re a bit brighter than yours but it reminds me of the ocean. It made any pain of the pregnancy completely worth it.” She bent forward and kissed the little boy’s forehead. “I would do anything for him.”

Momo traced a finger gently along the profile of her son. “But his smile, when he truly is over the moon and his eyes shine—that’s you Toushiro, that’s all you.”

She looked up and Toushiro was looking back at her with an inexplicable look on his face. While it stirred old feelings in her, Momo lamented inwardly that in his absence, she had lost her ability to read him in moments like this.

He pulled her hand towards him, making her tilt her head up and losing herself in deep emerald.

“Hinamori,” he breathed, his voice ragged. “I care for you—for him, for us.”

“Oh Hitsugaya-kun,” Momo shook her head, her brown eyes shining. “I know you do.”

She gently pulled her hand away, holding it against her own heart. “But there’s too much at stake now—I can’t risk anything that can hurt him. You leaving without a word, fifty years ago—it hurt me more than ever blade ever did. And that’s a pain I swore I never would have Natsume go through.”

Toushiro was left speechless, the only movement the widening of his eyes. Momo swiftly got up, taking Natsume in her arms. She held out the tenth division cloak to him which the white-haired man took quietly. “Thank you for tonight. Good night—Hitsugaya-taicho.”

Before he could say anything, she turned her back on him and moved through the night with the sleeping boy mindless of the storm of emotions inside of his mother.

—

I hope this leaves people with a lot of questions as it did answers haha This won't come out for a long time but please look forward to it!

#canariie: my fics #canariie: asks #this is the mamma mia fic hahaha #i think i played angel eyes by abba constantly while writing this out lolol #momo hinamori #toushiro hitsugaya #domestic fluff is my weakness but i want to write this well so it's drammatic and hopefully also realistic for the circumstances #the characters find themselves in! i want it to be believable in the end

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