#something along the lines of (i just need to hold it together this journey is nearly over)

[noisynaia]

Hi! Can you do a Din x F!reader where when Din is visiting Greef Karga and telling him about how he wants to redeem himself, but then Karga asks him if that's really what he truly wants? Maybe the reader takes Grogu somewhere while they talk and he asks Din something like, "Have you ever considered not going back to Mandalore? You can be happy here with her." Or something along those lines? Thanks! You have a great talent! ♡

𝑊𝐻𝐼𝑇𝐸 𝐹𝐼𝐸𝐿𝐷𝑆

Thank you so much sweet anon 💕 This is such a lovely idea and I had such a great time writing it. I live for soft Din who just yearns for happiness but needs a little help realising that he is deserving of it. 💗

word count: 5.4k 

pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader 

note: Mutual pining. Love confessions. Found family. The helmet comes off. Din has his first kiss. The Razor Crest lives. No use of (y/n). This has not been beta read and English is not my native language.

You are sitting in the passenger seat of the cockpit with Grogu, who is softly babbling, in your lap as he cradles his beloved little silver ball with both of his tiny hands. Din is sitting in the pilot chair next to you, getting the Razor Crest ready for landing. You can’t help but stare at him as he skillfully manoeuvres the ship. You have been travelling with the Mandalorian and his foundling for a little over a standard year now and what had started out as a small crush on Din has now bloomed into so much more, even though you had tried to fight it and protect your heart you have fallen utter and deeply in love with him. 

The three of you are on your way to Nevarro to talk to Din’s employer Greef Karga. You have been with him to Nevarro a few times before and you are exited to be back, but you can’t help but worry that this might be your last time on the planet, at least while travelling with Din and little Grogu.

You have tried to fight your feelings for Din, but no matter how badly you tried there was nothing you could do to stop yourself from falling. You know that you are only setting yourself up for heartache, knowing that there is no way that the two of you ever could be together, even if he reciprocated your feelings which you don’t think he does. He is Mandalorian after all and you are not…  Even though he is now an apostate. But that is why he will be travelling to Mandalore, to proclaim his creed and seek redemption and you can’t help but have a feeling that that journey won’t involve you which hurts. You know that your stay on the Crest always has been temporary. Just a job, after all. Just a needed help looking after Grogu. Staying on the ship with the little youngling while Din is out hunting bounties, but you feel like Din soon will tell you that you no longer will be needed. 

That you will be parted with Din is going to hurt, but losing Groguis going to be unbearable. You have ended up caring so much for the little green kid, loving him so much, you don't think you could love him more had he been your own child. It is terrifying, the thought that you one day will have to say goodbye to him. You try not to think too much about it and you shake your head as Din is landing on the barren ground that constitutes as the spaceport of Nevarro City. 

You cradle Grogu in your arms as you descend down the ramp with Din, the warm glow of the late afternoon sun is reflecting off his beskar making him look even more impressive than usual. You can’t help but feel proud to be walking by his side as you step through the pillars of the tall arch that open Nevarro City up from the spaceport. You are met by Karga that are walking towards you, arms spread in a welcoming gesture and a big wide smile lighting up his face. You can’t help but giggle when you notice that he has two small droids in tow, holding the ends of his long robe so it doesn’t drag along the ground.  

“Mando, my friend! I was beginning to fear you would never return.” Karga greets him before turning his attention to you, offering you a great big smile. “And I see your beautiful travel companion hasn’t left you yet.” He lets out a friendly laugh. “You haven’t got tired of that old bucket head yet my dear?” You let out a giggle, you have missed the older man’s friendly, teasing banter.  

“Not yet.” You smile at him. “Besides, this little one makes me stick around.” You say, looking lovingly down at the little child in your arms. 

Grogu is shrieking with happiness at the familiar face and Karga looks at him with an even wider grin on his face than before, if that is even possible. “And would you look at that, my favourite little green baby! How are you doing kid?”  

“Grogu.” Din says in a flat but not unfriendly tone, looping his thumb in his belt.

“Come again?” Karga turns towards the Mandalorian.  

“His name, It’s Grogu.” Din clarifies. 

“Huh, if you say so.” Karga shrugs his shoulders before taking Din’s gloved hand in his, placing his other hand on the armour of Din’s upper arm in a welcoming gesture. “Now come, come! A great deal has happened here since your last visit.” 

It is true that a lot of things have happened, the city is looking amazing, many of the buildings are new and shiny, more trees and greenery than ever before, even the people on the street look more vibrant and happy.   

“Yes, a lot of things have changed here. It doesn’t even look like the same place.” Din lets out. 

“Yes, yes! We have a construction boom going on in the city, it is all rather exciting. But now come, come! It has been a while and I’m sure we have plenty to discuss.” Karga smiles, clearly proud of the new state of the city. “The two of you are very welcome to join us, of course, but I will not take offence if you would prefer to take a look around instead, it will probably be more exciting for the little one.” Karga addresses you, gesturing to Grogu. “I will happily offer one of my droids to give a tour of the new city if you are interested or maybe show you to the healing baths, those Twi’leks know what they’re doing, very soothing.” 

“Thank you but I think we will be alright. I think we will go to the bazaar, find something nice for this one.” You smile down at Grogu who is happily cooing at your words.  

“Good choice, you have to spoil the little bogwing as much as possible, being spoiled is an important part of being a youngling. And make sure you go to the fruit market. The meiloorun melons are most delectable this time of year.” Karga states before turning to Din. “Well, shall we, Mando? I’m sure we have a lot to discuss.” 

Din turns his head back at you, his visor looking straight at you and you know that his eyes under his helmet must be locked with yours, it is a thought that always sends a warm rush through you and makes your heart beat a little faster. 

“I’ll find you later. You have your com on you, right? ” He asks you which makes you roll your eyes with a teasing smile on your lips even though you still feel your heart beat a little faster than normal by his gaze. 

“Of course.” You say, picking up the little device from your pocket to show him. “But we will be fine. You worry too much.” You say as you put the comlink back in your pocket. “I’ll call you if a reptavian is out to eat us or if we are about to be abducted by pirates or, I don’t know, maybe a kowakian is stealing Grogu’s meiloorun.” You tease him, he is always being so overprotective.

“Ah, ah. You must remember, a man is always allowed to worry about the people he loves. ” Karga chuckles while giving Din a playful pat on the back. Your smile falls at this and you feel your face heat at his comment. Din clears his throat awkwardly. You know that Din cares for you, but in what capacity you’re not sure, he is always making sure that you are safe and comfortable. He, of course, loves Grogu dearly, but Karga’s innuendo about Din loving both of you has your heart beating even faster than before.

“Shall we.” Din comments quickly, clearly flustered by Karga’s words too.  

“Sure.” Karga exclaims. “It was lovely to see you again, now go and enjoy the city. I think you will find the place quite pleasant, we have built a new school too, great for the little ones.” He tells you, gesturing at Grogu, like he is trying to sell the idea of settling down here before turning to leave with Din. 

You watch the backs of the two men as they walk up the stairs before they disappear into Karga’s building. You shake your head slightly before looking down at Grogu. “Shall we?” You ask him, echoing Din’s words from before. The little kid gurgles happily up at you which makes you smile widely. Maker, you love his cute little face so much. 

You walk down the bustling street to the bazaar. You have to admit that the changes to the city really are very impressive, you could actually imagine living in a city like this. You start your shopping, a ration run was long overdue anyway and besides the needed basics you find a lot of other things too. A new robe for Grogu, happy to find some small enough to fit him, Maker knows he needs more, you feel like you are constantly washing the few he has. You also find a few things for yourself and you are happy when you find a booth that is selling Din’s favourite brand of nutrition packs, and in his favourite flavour too, not that he has told you that they are his favourites, but it was easy to figure out as they always are the one he picks.

“So, is it melon time now?” You ask, looking down at Grogu after you have paid for the nutrition packs. Grogu is cooing happily as if he understands and you chuckle down at him making your way to one of the fruit stands. 

Karga was right, the meilooruns look perfect, ripe and mouthwatering. You smile at the elderly Twi’lek behind one of the booths, placing Grogu down on the ground before you start picking out the tastiest looking fruits, making polite conversation with the fruit seller while still keeping an eye on little Grogu. You pay for the fruits and the Twi’lek behind the booth hands you the last one. You feel Grogu tuck at your pant leg as he looks up at the fruit in your hand, clearly very interested in the orange-red melon that is almost bigger than his head. You chuckle at him, bending down to let him hold it which makes him let out an excited shriek.      

“Good job!” You coo at the youngling as he proudly holds the big fruit with both hands, waddling over to the basket that you have lowered for him, where he, with a little difficulty but complete determination, lifts the fruit up to join the rest.     

“Aw, what a good boy, helping mama out.” The Twi’lek coos at Grogu. 

Your heart clenches at the woman’s comment and you yearn by the idea of actually being the little green kid’s mother. You smile at the fruit seller and then down at Grogu 

“Yeah, he is the best.” You sigh softly.  

Grogu is looking up at you with those big bright eyes of his, softly babbling before reaching his tiny arms up towards you in a gesture to tell you he wants you to lift him up. You are happy to oblige, picking him up and nuzzling your nose against his little chubby cheek before leaving a soft kiss on the same spot. 

“Well, sweetheart I think that was all.” You tell him with a smile. “Your dad is probably also finishing up with Karga about now.” 

“Why don’t you take some of these too, on the house, for being such a sweet boy.” The Twi’lek says, putting a few pika fruits and some jogans down a brown paper bag.  

“Oh, no, that’s too kind of you.” You try to politely decline the woman's sweet offer but she just shrugs you off. 

“Now, none of that. We like giving gifts here on Nevarro.” She smiles at you as she shakes her head, making her lekku’s swing from side to side, before looking at Grogu. “Why don’t you give these to your father, little one? Proof that you were nice and helpful while out shopping with mom?” She smiles at Grogu who is cooing and making grabby hands at the bag and you can’t say no to him, so you let him take it and thanking the sweet Twi’lek before going out to see if Din is finished at Karga’s. You can’t help but feel at peace here, people have been so sweet and welcoming. 

—      

Karga is pouring himself a glass of spotchka, offering a glass to Din, just like he always does, which Din declines, just like always does. “Hm, so today isn’t the day I’m gonna see your face either.” The older man jokes, lifting his glass to take a sip of the strong beverage. Din only scoffs at the comment. 

“I came to tell that I won’t be able to take any bounties for a while.” 

“Well, I am happy to hear that, Mando. Finally ready to give up that tumultuous life of yours?” Karga says with a big smile on his face. Now this was not the reaction Din had expected, confused by the man’s words.

“I have shown my face. I have to go to Mandalore to seek redemption in the living waters.” Karga’s smile falls as Din tells him this.

“Oh, Mando. Now I had hoped that you had come to tell me that you were ready to come quieten down here in Nevarro City.” 

“I have taken off my helmet, I need to go to Mandalore.” Din tries to explain, but Karga does not seem to see that as a problem, waving a hand in the air as if what Din is telling him isn’t an issue in the slightest, like Din hasn’t broken the most holy of creeds, cutting him off with an unconcern look on his face.

“Well, have you considered not going?” The other man simply states. 

“I am an apostate now.” Din tries again but it still doesn’t seem like an issue to Karga. 

“Isn’t that just all the more reason to stay here. You might be considered an apostate among your people now, but here you will be welcomed with open arms. You could hang up your blaster, settle down and give the kid some stability, maybe even add a new little one to the family, I’m sure that lady of yours would enjoy that.” The older man says with a wink followed by a deep belly laugh before continuing. “Now, I don’t know how ugly that mug of yours is under there.” He says gesturing at Din’s helmet. “But I know that ain’t gonna scare her away, even a qartuum could see that that girl is enamoured with you.”

Din feels his face heat up under the helmet at Karga’s words. “She isn’t my lady.” Din mutters, not able to suppress how deeply he wish that you actually were.   

“Hmm.” Karga hums, not sounding convinced. “If you say so. But, Mando, my friend, I have known you for a long time, since you were a young man and I don’t think I have ever seen you as happy as you are now, with her and the kid. I know you keep insisting that there is nothing going on between you and her, and that might be the truth, but you can’t convince me that you don’t want there to be.”

Din wants to protest, to tell the man that his statement is wrong, but he knows that it would fall for deaf ears, and he would give himself up anyway, Din has also always been a terrible liar. Of course he want’s something between you. His employer has seen right through him, hit the head right on the nail. Din has over the last few months started to come to terms with the fact that he has fallen completely and utterly in love with you. It is scary, completely unknown territory and Din doesn’t now what to do with these feelings he has for you, sure that you don’t feel the same - but, as little as he likes to admit it, a little hope has bloomed in his chest by Karga’s words. ‘Even a qartuum could see that that girl is enamoured with you.’ could that really be true?

 Could you really feel the same for him as he feel for you? No, of course not, Karga is just teasing like he always does, right?  

“I can’t hang up my blaster. It’s not that simple.” He sighs, shaking his helmeted head. 

“But it’s not that complicated either.” Karga says, taking another sip of his spotchka before continuing. “You deserve some happiness, Mando and  I think she can give you that. This is just an old man’s advice and you can do with it as you will, but I hope you believe me when I say that all I want is to see you happy.” He finishes this drink, setting the now emty glass down on the table before pulling out something from the pocket of his extravagant outfit.  

“Now go back to that girl and that Grogu of yours and treat them to a nice dinner, I know how much that kid loves to eat.” He chuckles. “I have a nice prime tract set up, right over by the hot springs. You can spend the night there, I’m sure she will appreciate having somewhere nicer to sleep than that old ship of yours.” Karga says with a smile as he slides enough credits for a nice dinner and then some over the table along with a keychip and a little piece of paper with an address scribbled down. “Think about what I’ve said okay? It’s a nice place and it can be yours if you want it.” He adds, gesturing to the key that Din is now clutching in his gloved hand.

Din simply nods at the man and mumbles a quick ‘thanks’ before leaving. Karga’s words ringing in his head as he makes it down the busy street to the bazaar to find you and Grogu.

—      

The house Karga has lent you is beautiful, which makes perfect sense, the High Magistrate has always struck you as the type of person with an eye for finer things, the makeover the city has gotten is proof of this. You had taken a little tour of the house, not able to stop yourself from fantasising about what it would be like to live in a place like this. It’s nice to pretend even if it’s just for a single night or two, you hope you get a chance to try out the soothing hot spring in the backyard before you have to leave again. It will probably be soon, you know how badly Din itches to travel to Mandalore to redeem himself. The thought making a tight knot form in your stomach, you and Din havent really talked much about it or talked about what was going to happen with you. You don’t even know if you would be allowed to come with him as a non-Mandalorian. Maybe the time you have been dreading so badly finally has come, Din telling you that he no longer needs your services and that he will travel to Mandalore with Grogu and reclaim his creed without you. It makes your little tour of the house feel so much more bitter sweet, the fantasy of the three of you living in a place like this seem stupid and silly.

You can’t help yourself from dragging your feet towards the open door of the room in which Din is currently putting Grogu to bed, watching them from the doorway. You are in complete awe by the sight of Din sweetly tucking Grogu in for the night, placing the warm blanket over the little kid who is placed on the soft bed. The contrast of the two is always a sight. The big brute bounty hunter, clad from head to toe in shiny, intimidating beskar, and the tiny little kid with giant shiny eyes and wobbling ears.

Even though you have known for a while that you love and care deeply for both Din and little Grogu, now as you watch them, you know that the love you have for the both of them is deeper than anything you have ever felt before. You love the little green kid as if he was your own and you have fallen deeply in love with his armour wearing dad. 

Your heart yearns so bad by the sight of them, the love Din has for his little foundling is so bewitching and you find yourself stepping into the room, softly tip-toeing over to the bed, feeling yourself being pulled in like a magnet. Din looks up at you when you reach the bed. His helmet conceals his emotions but he doesn’t seem to mind that you have come over to them. Grogu has already snoozed off, Din pats the empty space of the bed next to him, encouraging you to take a seat which you do. The two of you sit there in silence for a moment looking at Grogu as he sweetly sleeps. You wonder how many more of these small moments you have left with them. You suddenly feel like you might start crying. You sigh as you stand up, stepping over to plant a soft kiss on Grogu’s forehead before turning your gaze to Din, giving the man a weak smile as he rises from the bed too. The two of you quietly stepping out of the room and towards the living area.       

You sit down at the soft sofa, Din sitting down in one of the comfortable arm chairs. A silence falling over you as you both seem to be occupied with your own thoughts. 

After Din had found you and Grogu at the bazaar he had taken you out to one of the nicer places to eat in the city. Fancy, but not too fancy to bring a kid. Din had, of course, not been eating, but you had made sure to get some food back with you to the house that he ate while you were out in the backyard playing with Grogu, giving him privacy to take off his helmet. He might have taken off his helmet that time for Grogu, and now is an apostate for it, but he still follows the creed. 

It had been a good evening, one you wished you would have many more of, but that just seems like wishful thinking, but Din had been very quiet. Not that he has ever been a huge chatterbox or anything, but he had been quiet even for his standards. You can’t help but wonder if something is wrong, now that you also sit in silence here.           

“Din?” 

“Hmm?”

“You are being awfully quiet tonight, anything on your mind?” You ask in a low voice, close to a whisper, feeling a little unsure if you should even ask him this.  

“Oh, Karga just said some things to me. I don’t know, I guess it just made me get stuck in my own thoughts, I’m sorry about that.” He says with a slight shake of his helmet. 

You open your mouth to answer but he continues before you get to say anything.     

“Do… Do you like it here?” His voice is softer than normal and slightly shaky. 

“Here on Nevarro?” You ask a little confused, mirroring his soft tone.

“Yeah, here on Nevarro… Wo-would this be the kind of place you could see yourself live in?”

“If I was living in a house like this? Absolutely!” You grin at him, but Din doesn’t seem to be in on the joke, his shoulders tense as he fidgets with the leather of his gloves.   

“Well, Karga he… he offered it to me, the house here... Well, to us. To uhm, to stay.” He adds. 

Us… Could he mean? Your stomach does a flip until you realise what he means by ‘us’. Him and Grogu, of course, the clan of two. You look over at him, offering him a weak smile as you imagine it for a second, Din and Grogu living in a place like this, the warm blanket of domesticity covering them.  

“That sounds nice.” You say, giving him a little smile. It really would be nice for them to have a quiet life, but you know that it is never going to happen. That isn’t the life of a Mandalorian.

“Yo-you really think so?” He sounds startled and you can’t help but giggle softly at him. 

“Well, yeah, of course. I can imagine you preparing lunches for Grogu in the morning, lots of meriloons for snacks, of course, and then taking him to school.” You say with a playful smile on your lips, remembering Karga’s comment about the new school they had built. “And, all the other kids thinking Grogu has the coolest dad ever with all that beskar.” You laugh softly at your little fantasy. 

“So I would be a cool dad, huh?” He finally chuckles along with you. 

“Oh, yeah. The coolest.” You nod. “How many other parents wield the dark sabre?” You snicker. 

“No one, I guess.” He chuckles again and, kriff, how you love the sound of it.

“Oh, and you would bake for all of the bake sales, obviously!” 

“Pff, of course, I would!” He plays along. “I would bake all the pika cakes needed. Hell, the little one gets them for free.” He says, nodding his head in the direction of the kitchen where the bag with the fruits Grogu was gifted at the market lies. “But you would have to help me taste test them, make sure that we come with the best cakes. Can’t lose my cool dad status because I’m being outshined by another parent with better baking skills.” 

Wait is he saying that you would be there too, in this hypothetical scenario?! 

“Would I?” Your tone has lost all the playfulness from before, now low and unsure but also hopeful. 

He stiffens, shoulders getting tense again. “Wouldn’t you?” His voice is now soft and a little shaky through the modulator.

You can’t believe the direction the conversation has taken. “I guess I would if you want me to.” You confess. 

“I do. I really want you to.” He whispers your name. The visor of his helmet trained on you and you know that he is looking directly into your eyes.  “I would want that. I never thought I could have that, but with you… With you and Grogu, that is all I want.”

“Din I…” You feel how warm tears are slowly falling down your cheeks now. “I want that too. I want you.” You get up from the sofa and he rises from his chair, the two of you slowly approaching each other until you stand with only a few inches between you. 

“I don’t want to go to Mandalore, not anymore.” He whispers. “I don’t…” He takes a shaky breath, like he is getting ready to tell an earth-shattering secret. “I don’t mind being an apostate.”  

“Din are you sure you don’t want to go..?” You can’t believe his words. You are happy, of course you are, but this is his creed, his life, his whole identity. You need him to be sure.

He doesn’t answer you, just standing still in front of you, like a statue. You start to think that he might have regretted telling you this, that he is realising that he does want to go to Mandalore and that he just got caught in the moment for a second, but then he moves. It is like everything is going in slow motion, it takes you a second to realise what he is doing as he brings his hands up to the side of his helmet, a loud hiss sounding through the room before he removes the beskar from his head.

A little gasp escapes your mouth as you take in the sight of his unhelmed face. You are met by a pair of the most beautiful eyes you have ever seen, tender and bright, like the twin suns on the planet you grew up on. His hair, that is slightly mussed from the helmet, is a deep brown which matches the colour of his eyes. Dark stubbles are adorning his jaw and a trimmed moustache is framing his upper lip and you notice how soft, how kissable they look. There is no doubt in your heart as you stare into the his eyes, this is the man you love, reaching your hand out to softly cup his cheek, making sure to not make contact with his skin until he lean against your hand himself, not wanting to overwhelm him if he isn’t ready for your touch yet, but he does lean in, letting out a little gasp as your palm gently cups his cheek.   

“Hi.” You whisper, finally breaking the silence.

“Hi.” He echoes as your palm rests against his bare skin, fingers slowly brushing over the stubbles of his cheek. A faint, sheepish smile on his lips and a slightly unsure look in his eyes, clearly not used to being looked at and not knowing how to react to your gaze without his helmet. He has nothing to be shy about though. He is so gorgeous and you are gonna let him now. 

“Din, you are beautiful.”    

He doesn’t answer, still taken in the feeling of being touched without the armour. You let him take all the time that he needs and a little while goes by before he finally breaks the silence.

“I kind of want to kiss you, cyar’ika.” He confesses, voice barely more than a whisper.    

“You can.” You tell him your voice is soft, a mellow smile on your lips as you stare into the deep umber of his eyes. He nods slightly, giving himself a moment to let the idea of finally being able to kiss you sink in, you don’t rush him, letting him do it in his own tempo.

“I-I’ve never kissed anyone before.” The words are coming out soft and shaky, almost apologetic, as he confesses this to you. It doesn’t surprise you, it must be incredibly nerve wracking for him, after so many years behind the helmet, standing bare and exposed in front of another human being. It makes sense that he never has kissed anyone before considering the creed he has lived by. You can’t help but feel a little giddy by the idea of being the one to give him his first kiss, a soft and loving gift he can carry with him forever.   

“Din, that’s okay.” You reassure him before adding with a slightly cheeky grin. “It’s not like I mind teaching you.” This makes him smile too, letting out a low sound, the ghost of a laugh, you have heard that sound before but never without the modulator of his helmet and you feel your heart flutter warmly. 

“I’m glad you don’t.” He whispers gratefully as he begins to lean in closer until your lips meet in a soft, sweet kiss. His hands moves up to cradle your face, gently cupping your cheeks with his broad hands. You hum content into the kiss, your lips moving slowly in sync, a part of you wants to deepen the kiss letting your tongue explore his mouth but you hold yourself back, this will hopefully be the first kiss of many and you want this one to be sweet and soft and not overwhelm him. 

You finally have to pull away to catch your breath, finding those beautiful eyes of his that you have already fallen completely for. 

“I love you.” You whisper into the quietness and he smiles at you, the prettiest smile in the galaxy, before leaning in to capture your lips in another kiss. 

“I love you too.” He mutters against your lips. “I have for a while.” 

You let out a choked gasp, not believing that this is really happening, that Din really loves you too.

“I think I’m ready for something new.” He tells you softly, placing a sweet kiss on the top of your head before resting his forehead against yours. “A new beginning right here with you.” 

“That sounds good.” You smile. “But I think you might have to kiss me again, as your official taste tester I need another sample.” 

He lets out a low laugh before kissing you again. A kiss that tastes like the beginning of something beautiful. 

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[hyunfilms]

blue side of the sky (lmh) | twenty one. (final)

♡ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: waking up after 3 months with no recollection of your past, your friends do what they can to help you remember. except, they omit an important piece to the puzzle - afraid you would remember the heartbreak and hurt all over again.

—pairing: lee know x f. reader

—genre: (18+) exes to lovers, bestfriends to lovers au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 4.4k

—chapter content/warnings: not much, really just wrapping everything up mainly for these three, some crying, overwhelming feelings of nostalgia and missing someone, two cute flashback scenes

☁︎ on rotation: magic hour - jhene aiko

—a/n: thank you again for coming along on this journey <33 i appreciate you, and the support always means so, so much to me 🩵 i'll be back with chan's fic soon. 🥰

As the days go by, you find yourself feeling better in your own skin than you were a year ago. Despite the troubles you had endured, you feel like you're finally where you need to be. Things feel settled, time seems to be moving slower, your relationships traversing on calm waters. Because the flower shop had been booming with more customers and clients, Mrs. Pak made you lead florist while she hired another part-timer, Bora, who helped in between her classes. You're mainly at the shop, preparing pre-ordered bouquets and setting some aside for grabs at the store; while the other half of your time is now spent traveling to venues to set up for special events. You've greatly appreciated the bump in responsibilities, enjoying that most of your time is spent doing what you love. During nights or weekends that you are free, you occasionally head to the pottery studio to continue creating pieces to add to your collection or sell.

As for Minho, the time felt like it did you well. But in a sense where you were able to say your peace to the past, where you were able to process the highs and the lows in that chapter with Minho. Though things changed the trajectory of everything, Minho has never left your side. He continued to create enough distance until you were ready to bring him closer, always ready to support you in any way that he could. But, there was never any pressure to be more, to be less. Minho let you be and that's because he loved you;

And he loved you enough to let you go.

Loved you enough to let you properly conquer this world without him holding you back.

In the end, you will always love Minho, but you're realizing that loving him as who you are now, as where you are now, as his bestfriend, will always be more than enough. So you let it sit the way it is now, afraid to force something that wasn't meant for the next chapter of your life.

In the end, you will have Minho the way the universe allows you to, and vice versa. 

In the end, you'd rather have a part of him than lose him at all. 

"Hey." You pick up the call, gathering some last minute items and tossing them into your bag.

"Hey, I'm out front." Minho says on the other line while he shuffles around in his car.

"Okay, I'll be right there."

"Take your time." You purse your lips together before ending the call. You run your chapstick across your lips once more before grabbing your bag and heading out of the door. You walk through the side door seeing Minho relaxing in the driver's seat— scrolling through his phone. Since it's been a good amount of time, your stomach no longer drops when you see him, heart no longer feels like it's beating out of your chest, palms no longer wet and sweaty from anxiety. 

And it feels nice. 

Refreshing.

Peaceful.

"Hey." He says, turning to you as soon as you swing the door open and settle into the passenger's seat. You give him a tiny smile before buckling in your seatbelt. "All good?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Is it too warm?" Minho adjusts the heat slightly.

"No, it's good. It's perfect." He nods, driving off to your childhood neighborhood. "Cafe is okay? Surprised you were able to run off." 

"Mhm. Yeah well, JJ's got it, plus we hired another person to help out. It's been pretty smooth lately."

"That's good. Then, you're able to do more for your dance group and the studio, right? Just like you wanted?" He nods.

"Yeah, I am. We're finishing up for our competition next weekend."

"I'm glad you have more time for that now. I'm sure it'll go great."

"How's the shop and Mrs. Pak? Still busy, I'm assuming?" You sigh and let out a chuckle.

"Yeah, it's booming lately. But, Bora's been a lot of help when I can't be around so I'm grateful for her. I was just afraid of Mrs. Pak having to handle a lot on her own again."

"I'm sure she appreciates everything you do for her and the shop." You nod.

"I have to travel next weekend. The client that hired us for the event is about 2 hours away."

"You'll be okay?"

"I'll be okay. I know I can call you guys if anything comes up."

"Okay." He looks at you, content with your answer. And when Minho looks at you, he still sees love, feels love. 

He always will. 

But, he's also gotten to understand what it truly means to put you first, to put your needs above his own, to be your bestfriend. For a moment, he felt lost when you distanced yourself; no longer by his side like you used to be. He wondered how he could salvage everything and fix the problems overnight to bring you close again. He wondered what he could do differently this time, wondered how he should act, how he should talk, how he could paint himself in a different picture. He felt exhausted from trying to control every single aspect of life, micromanaging every little detail he could. 

Then, he realized the answer was in front of him this entire time. He realized how much he was holding you back when you started to smile more, when you started to laugh and move with grace more comfortably; dancing along with the wind, while your eyes held more life than they used to. He realized you needed to shape your own life outside of him, outside of Jisung and your friends, outside of Uncle Adrian.

Create your own version of the greenest grass, the bluest skies, the starriest nights.

This is the unconditional love you needed, even if it was from a distance.

As he continues to drive, he peeks over from time to time, watching as you keep your eyes glued to the surroundings as it passes by. He can't really tell if things are starting to feel familiar, or if you are trying to dig deep within yourself to find that familiar feeling. Overall, you seem to be content, and you don't seem to be regretting your decision of asking Minho to take you here.

When Minho finally drives down a familiar street, he slows his speed a bit; pointing towards certain places while telling you as much as he remembers from his own memory. Although Minho wasn't a part of your life during this point of your childhood, you and Jisung used to take him to this neighborhood pretty often— bringing you to the convenience store you always hung out at, the grocery store your families frequented, the park that had the monkey bars you and Jisung used to fight over. Even though he wasn't there, he felt included. Always.

"You guys took me here quite a few times." Minho points at the convenience store. "We'd go in there and spend our spare change because they had $1 surprise gifts." Minho chuckles a bit. "We'd get a range of things, like random sticker books. Bracelets. Keychains. You even got lucky once and got your favorite pink pencil case out of that." You giggle.

"I still have that sitting on my desk." He nods.

"Yup. We'd spend so much visiting there. They always had our favorite snacks. Sometimes, there would be a hotteok cart nearby. It stopped coming after awhile though." He turns down a road that leads into a residential area. Most of the houses were designed similarly, probably having the same layouts and just enough rooms for families to live comfortably. It's a quiet street, barely any kids playing out front or around on the block. Minho parks his car along the curb, pointing at the park that's a bit of a walk down a path into the middle of the area. "Wanna talk a walk to the park with me?" He looks at you as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

"Sure." He gives you a small smile before heading out of the car, finding his place next to you as you stand and breathe in the crisp fresh air. He digs his hands into his jacket pockets, careful to not walk too quickly. You finally catch wind of a few kids playing around at the park while their parents hang around. Minho chuckles a bit when he hears a child screaming and laughing while their father spins them around on the roundabout; pleading for their dad to go faster.

"Jisungie hated that thing. Even when we'd come here in high school."

"Let me guess, he almost fell off of it." 

"Yup." He lets out a breath. "Anyway, you and Jisung grew up at this park. When we came here all together, we'd play around on the monkey bars and wait for the ice cream truck to come. That ice cream truck sold the specific brand of strawberry shortcake ice cream you loved so much. You refused to buy anything else."

"You know, now that you mention it, I haven't had that in awhile." You giggle and kick at the leaves beneath your feet, eyes now darting to the kids chasing each other around the park.

"You loved that ice cream." He walks over to the tree on the opposite side. "We used to play the dumbest games here, like tag. Hopping from bridge to bridge, trying not to step on the ground or else we'd be out." You laugh.

"Everything sounded so fun."

"And chaotic." You watch as he looks at the tree bark, running his fingers across the surface before calling you to his side. "Come look at this."

"Hm?" You hum, walking around to stand next to him. You let out a small gasp seeing your names carved messily onto the bark, the 'o' shape on your mouth slowly forming into a tiny smile. "This was in high school?"

"Yup. We spent a lot of good times here." You look at him. "Ready to walk to your house? It's just down this way." He points towards the ongoing path behind him.

"Mhm." You nod. 

The walk is quiet, but it's a comfortable silence that falls between you and Minho. It's quick anyways, especially being that you thoroughly enjoy taking in the fresh air while observing your surroundings. You can hear the birds chirping amongst the trees that line the pathway, the dirt beneath your feet with every step. You follow Minho as he turns down the corner and stops, pointing at a dark brown, ranch-style family home. It's not small, but not the biggest; obvious that the maintenance wasn't a high priority over the years, the paint chipping off in certain areas.

"That's it." You stand and stare, taking in the small, quaint house sitting by itself— a good distance separating it from the next house over. 

"Hm." You hum. "It does feel like home." You say, unable to explain the huge wave of nostalgia that suddenly overcame your senses. "I can't put my finger on it, but it certainly feels like home." Minho nods. "I can't believe we were here. This is where I grew up."

"Yeah."

"Wish I could remember it." At this point, an elderly lady comes out— walking onto the small porch with her cane. She notices you two and gently smiles, heading towards the flowers planted along the walkway into the house.

"I don't usually see pretty faces like yours come around. Are you from here?" She asks with a sweet smile, tending to her growing rose bush.

"I, um, grew up in this home when I was really young. I just wanted to come by and see it. I hope you don't mind that we're standing here looking at the house." She chuckles.

"Nonsense. My son bought this house but eventually moved out of the country, then had us move in here."

"That's nice."

"Does it look the same as you remember it?" Minho looks at you, but before he could intervene, you respond simply with a :

"I think so. Feels like it."

"I'm glad." She looks at her door then back at you two. "Do you, maybe, wanna come in?" You shake your head, afraid of it being too overwhelming, too much. Especially for someone like you, who is still learning life and the world.

"Oh, no. Thank you, though. We're going to leave soon. Seeing it from here is enough."

"You sure?" Minho asks quietly. You look at him and nod.

"Okay, sweetheart. If you ever change your mind, please knock. My husband and I are just around in the house."

"Thank you." You give her a small, curt bow before turning to Minho. "Let's go."

"Okay." Is all he says before following you down the path, creating enough distance between you and the house before chiming in again. "You sure you don’t wanna go in, Y/N?"

"Mhm. I'm just afraid it'll be too overwhelming for me, and I won't even know why. I'll have nothing to compare the feeling to.” You pause. “I promise. I'm okay seeing it that way. I think—" You sigh. "I think that feeling of seeing it and having it feel like home is enough. I don't want anything else to take over that."

"Okay." He pops his arm out for you to take and hold onto it. "That sounds good to me. We can make our way to the cemetery at a good time."

"Thanks, Minho."

"Course." The two of you continue to the car, laughing and smiling at the kids that are still playing in the park. You plop into the passenger's seat and buckle your seatbelt, rubbing your hands together to get rid of the morning cold. Minho checks on the flowers in the backseat, making sure they're still sitting prettily before hopping into the driver's seat.

"Good?" You nod. "Ready to go see your mom?"

"I am."

"Mmkay." Is all Minho responds with before pulling away from the curb. The cemetery is close to an hour drive in the opposite direction, and Minho makes sure you're comfortable for the ride over. He keeps it rather lowkey, playing soft music in the background while keeping the heat on. He doesn't really try to make small conversation not only because he's not much of a person for it, but because he can also tell your mind is already occupied. He does ask you from time to time if you're hungry and if you'd like to eat first, but you respond with a soft 'no;' reassuring him that all is well through a smile before leaning your head against the window.

Uncle Adrian was caught up at work, but he lets you know he'll meet you at the cemetery as soon as he's able to slip away and pack it up for the day, telling you to take your time and sit with her for as long as you'd like. You aren't really sure what you're gonna do when you get there though, to be honest. You're not even sure how long you plan to stick around. But, thankfully, Minho doesn't mind. He knows you need this right now, and he'll do whatever he can to help ease this.

To ease the transition in closing this chapter, in moving forward.

☁︎ FLASHBACK | EARLY COLLEGE

Minho is woken up in the middle of the night when he hears you giving off small whimpers. You're still snuggled against him, enveloped in his arms; though, he feels you twitch every now and then. He looks down at you, brushing the hair away from your face when he realizes you're still asleep and probably having a bad dream.

"Y/N." He says softly with a gentle shake at the shoulder. "Baby." He says a bit louder when you don't budge. He's a little bit rougher with his shake, finally getting you to slowly pry an eye open before the other follows suit.

"Hm?" You sleepily ask, rubbing at your face.

"You were having a bad dream."

"No."

"No?"

"My mom visited me in my dream. I was crying for her."

"I'm sorry, love."

"Nothing to be sorry about."

"Do you remember if she said anything to you?" You nod and wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly as you recall the best parts of your dream. Although it was a happy, beautiful dream, you found yourself tearing up at the thought of how angelic and peaceful your mom looked. At least, you could confirm that she was okay and that she was happy— wherever she was at.

"Mhm. She said she missed me, and that she was really happy to see me. She said she thinks about me all the time and that she's always by my side no matter what." You sniffle. Minho lifts your chin with his finger, wiping away at the tears that manage to slip down your bottom lid and down your cheeks. 

"I'm glad she visited you."

"I am, too." You begin to cry a bit harder as reality hits you, the thought of not actually being able to physically hug your mom feeling incredibly painful tonight. "I miss her so much, Min. I wish I could hug her."

"I know you do, baby. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I just got scared. I wish I could do more to help."

"No, it's okay. Just really miss her. But I'm glad she seems to be happy."

"And I'm sure she's very happy because she can see you doing well and being so strong."

"I hope so."

"I know so." Minho gives off a tiny chuckle before pulling you close and hugging you tightly. "Let's get back to sleep, yeah? We've got a couple of more hours before we need to be up."

"Okay."

"I love you."

"I love you, too." You whisper against his chest, shutting your eyes in hopes of finding sleep again.

☁︎ END

It's a bit past lunch time when you arrive at the cemetery, and you still don't feel hungry. You do feel nervous for whatever reason, somewhat anxious, even. Minho parks in a free space, shutting off the car while letting out a breath.

"You okay?" He looks at you while you stare out of the window. All you can do is look at him and nod once more before unbuckling your seatbelt and stepping out of the car. You grab the bouquet of flowers from the back seat, hoping to rearrange them at her grave. Minho takes lead down the grassy field, stopping a few feet away from the car. He stands above a grave, looking down at the flat headstone before laying down a blanket and turning to you. You slowly approach him, letting him throw an arm around you and give it a soft squeeze.

"It's her." Is all he hears you say before you kneel to the ground and place the flowers down. It takes a moment before you register what's happening, before you realize that you're finally meeting her after all this time. 

Again.

You take another moment just to observe, to sit and be still. Then, you look at her picture, and you just cry. You cry, and cry. Because you miss her, because all you feel is overwhelming love for her.

You shakily run your finger down the picture, her smile so beautiful, so calming.

So peaceful.

You wish you could hug her tightly.

"I wish I could hug her." You say softly, and Minho can't help but gently rub your back to help ease your crying. Though, it's nice to know that you aren't alone, and you know you never will be. You do believe that your mom has been here with you, never leaving your side— especially throughout everything that's happened.

"We can stay here for as long as you need to." Minho adds. You quietly begin to arrange her flowers, Minho sitting back after he's added the bowl of oranges to the headstone. He watches as you delicately fix each stem, each flower, helping them stand tall and long. 

"Do they look okay?"

"They're beautiful." You give him a small smile.

"Mrs. Pak just got these in a couple of days ago. The baby blue Baby's Breath? They're so pretty."

"They are." 

"I hope she likes them."

"I'm sure she does." You sit back contently, hands falling to your lap. 

"Minho, I really wish I could remember the moments I've had with her. I think that's been the most upsetting part about everything. Not remembering the times I've had with my mom. Cause I can't get those back, and I can't necessarily make new ones with her."

"I'm sorry, I know. But, I know Uncle Adrian would be more than happy to walk down memory lane with you whenever you're ready. And I know she'd be happy to see you making new ones with him. She's with you everywhere you go, and she's in everything you do. You know that, right?"

"Mm, yeah. I just.. I don't know. I wish I could have a pass to go back in time to talk to her, or see her in my dreams." You sigh. "At least I can talk to her here, though. I hope she hears me."

"She does." Minho responds softly, watching as you stare at your mom's photo. He doesn't interrupt, gives you a moment to let your thoughts be.

To let you hold space. For you, for your mom.

And it's like this for awhile. Minho doesn't mind, especially since the weather has cleared up a bit and gotten warmer.

"Yo!" Jisung suddenly comes up the path, hands dug deep into his jacket. "Sorry I'm a bit late, I got caught up with some work stuff even though I told them I was taking off early today." He lets out a sigh as he sits next to you on the blanket. "You guys okay?"

"Mm yeah. I think so." You murmur.

"You sure, cielo?"

"Mhm. I just miss her, is all." Jisung pulls you into a hug and rubs at your arm while looking down at her headstone.

"Whenever we went on trips, your mom would always buy me bags of my favorite gummies. She'd always take us to get ice cream, or to the local convenience store to buy whatever snacks we wanted. Sometimes, she'd sit outside with us just to get some air and people watch." Jisung chuckles. "Your mom was really like my second mom. She was the nicest person. Always smiling. Kinda like you, I guess?" You laugh.

"Wow, you guess?" He shrugs. 

"Twins, for real." Jisung continues to tell you stories about the trips your families have taken together— how she would never let you two be unhappy, always willing to take you two to the places you wanted to visit even if everyone else was tired. She'd patiently wait for you two to finish playing, swimming, whatever it was— as long as you two were happy.

Then, the three of you find yourselves sitting quietly in front of her grave, looking out at the hills beyond it. The sky is bright and blue with no clouds in sight, weather warm with a very gentle breeze. The trees around you are full, showing off their healthy green leaves.

You sit, you breathe, you feel.

You turn to Jisung who is quietly dusting off your mom's grave, picking at the old, tiny, brown leaves that have accumulated in the corner. A small smile grows at your lips when you notice how focused he is on the small, tiny details; finger tracing the edges of the flat headstone. Then, you turn to Minho, who quietly sits by your side, looking out at the distant city view ahead. He suddenly meets your gaze, a smile growing at the corners of his lips. He pulls you into his arm, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

No words being exchanged, no words needed to be said. 

Nothing.

You've come to know what the blue side of the sky truly means, what it truly feels like. Because there is so much pain, anguish, hurt in this world, so many grey skies and loud, aggressive storms. 

But not in this moment.

In this moment, there is only happiness, comfort, peace. Blue skies and warmth. 

In this moment, there is only love.

☁︎ FLASHBACK | EARLY CHILDHOOD

"Y/N." Your mom says as she holds your hand as you attempt to walk in a straight line on the curb. You giggle when you almost lose balance, your grip around her fingers tightening as you regain it. "Y/N love, are you listening to mommy?"

"I am, I am." You giggle and look up at her, flashing her that million-watt smile she adores.

"Okay, good. I just want you to listen to me for a second."

"Okay, mommy."

"You know, the world isn't a scary place, but it isn't perfect either, love." You continue to walk silently along the curb, listening to your mom. "You know mommy is always doing her best to raise you well, right?"

"Mhm, mhm!"

"I don't want you to grow up fearing new places, new adventures, new people. But, I also want you to protect yourself and save yourself for those that really deserve you. Every bit of you. Okay? I'm trying my hardest to raise you to be brave and strong, and I know you will be. But sometimes, you can't be. And that's okay. That's why it's so important to have good people around you. Good friends. People that care about you and love you no matter what. Always surround yourself with love."

"I have friends." You smile at her and she smiles back. "Like Jisungie."

"I know. And Jisungie is a perfect example of a good friend who will never leave your side. But sometimes, Jisungie might not always be there. What are you going to do?"

"Be strong! Because I am strong!" She laughs when you raise your arms to show off your muscles.

"Right, be strong. You're my brave girl. You will always be my brave and strong girl. Life may not always be that kind to you, but I know you'll be able to overcome anything. You deserve the very best, always. Never let yourself believe otherwise."

"Is it because I'm like you, mommy?"

"Yes." She giggles. "Yes it is. You're just like me." She scoops you into her arms before planting a kiss on your cheek and pointing upwards. "You know, if you ever have bad days, or if you ever need a reminder. Just look up at the blue sky." She pauses and taps the tip of your nose. "Because no matter what, that blue sky will always come back after the rain. It'll never let those grey skies completely take over no matter how hard the rain comes down. It will always come back and be there for you."

☁︎ END

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[edges-of-night]

Imagine LotR characters reacting to you having had a long day ♡

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Aragorn is tireless when it comes to work, so sometimes he’ll forget the time himself. He’ll silently scolds himself then, because he wants to you to be able to relax once your work for the day is done. He would offer to make you a calming tea with herbs he’d search for you in the forest, so that you can unwind together in the evening.

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

Arwen would be the kind of person who keeps checking in during your work, be it physically or mentally demanding – or both! Either way, she wants to make sure you’re not overworking yourself. In the cases you do have a long day anyway, she will remind you that it is over now and that you should take it slower tomorrow. She’d offer you to cuddle and stroke your hair, and you’d calm down through her ethereal presence alone.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir would be the type of person to visit you at your workplace and, should the day almost be over, distract you tenderly from what you were doing so that he could steal you away and would get to spend the evening together with you. Be it hugging you from behind when you’re sitting at your desk or laying his hand over yours, holding the tool – the man can hardly wait to you for himself again, and he is not ashamed to show it.

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

After long days, Elrond is always short of scolding you for overworking yourself. But he knows how seriously you take your duties, so he swallows down any frustration, especially after you’ve returned to Rivendell in the evening. Without pressuring you, he will remind you how important it is to set your boundaries and that you don’t have to say yes to everything.

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

Once Eomer realizes that it is going to be a long day for you, he puts everything else aside and prioritizes the preparations for you. He will make sure that you can unwind as soon as you’re home. Depending on your mood, he would sit in front of a cosy fire with you or go for a horseback ride through the night.

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

After a long day, Eowyn would welcome you home with a sympathetic smile and a quip. Then she’d put her arms around your neck to give you a kiss and ask what you’re in the mood in for. Her breezy nature makes it easy to forget all the hardships of the day – now, you’d get to spend the evening however you please.

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

Faramir worships you like a deity, and that is precisely how he treats you after a long day, too. He’d shower you in kisses, embrace you in a warm bath, read you poetry, and help you get dressed in the most beautiful nightgown – or do nothing of the sort, if you ask him to just give you space. He respects your every wish.

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Frodo would sigh but smile when you return home after a long day. He’d say something along the lines of “I told you to take it easy”, but quickly proceed to ask you what you’d like to have for dinner. Frodo likes to take care of you, so you’ll have nothing to concern yourself with after work. He loves to take you on faraway journeys by reading from his favourite books, and he’d quietly chuckle to himself once you fall asleep on the armchair.

･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Galadriel will have nothing of your “But I still need to do…” – with a firm voice and kind eyes, she’d remind you of your well-being and that no job is so important that it cannot wait until the next morning. So instead, you would be whisked away by song and soft lights, maybe to your favourite spot in Lórien, from where the two of you will watch the sunset with your favourite drinks. No burnouts on her watch!

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf’s attitude toward your ‘long days’ is heavily dependant on what kind of work you’re giving yourself up to. While he commends every good deed and self-sacrifice, he draws the line somewhere. When you come home after having done nothing but tedious labour for some lord all day, exhausted and boneless, he’ll have nothing but a disapproving grunt from behind his pipe. Needless to say, your favourite baked goods would magically appear in the kitchen just a few moments later!

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

Not only does Gimli admire your power, he openly brags about your amazing productivity and relentless helpfulness. However, once you are alone, he’d make a point of quietly whispering to you, “Still, you got to take care of yourself, dearie!” That does not stop him from spoiling you with lavish Dwarven banquets by the fire though! With Gimli, there is never any shortage of luxury.

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

After a long day, Haldir would offer you a hot bath and silent company. He is majorly impressed by your work ethic, even though it borders on unhealthy sometimes. He’d never say that out loud, of course! All he does is offer you comfort in the ways he knows how to express. He’d ask you about your schedule tomorrow to unknowingly work ahead for you – only to disguise it as him being even more diligent than you once you found out.

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

More than anything, Legolas is amused by how much you try to achieve in one day. Once you’re back in his arms, he’d muse about how much time mortals spend with work and other duties, instead of savouring their precious time. Though you are tired, his semi-philosophical outpours – and especially his light-hearted mood – never fail to make you laugh.

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry looks up at your endurance and sense of duty. He is not afraid to tell you either. However, his idea of a relaxing evening is usually to go visit the Green Dragon, to drink, sing and dance. You can’t deny that his energy and movement help you loosen up. If the dancing alone doesn’t help, Merry will offer you a massage to ease your tension. He may be the thinking type usually, but special times demand special measures!

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Let’s be honest, Pip cannot relate to your workaholic attitude at all. That said, he does admire you for your enthusiasm and helpfulness. He’d be the kind of person to surprise you with your favourite dessert when you come home, having prepared it all afternoon just to make you happy. You will spark a whole new drive in him!

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Your return home is always Sam’s favourite part of the day – right after waking up next to you, no doubt. His calm nature never ceases to soothe you. Sam knows how to unwind and always has your favourite pipe ready for a quiet sunlit evening in his garden or your self-built rocking chairs. He’d quietly ask you about your day, but after some conversation, he’d go, “That’s enough of that, I’d say” and just entertain you otherwise until you’d go to bed.

#lotr imagine #lotr headcanons #lotr x reader #aragorn x reader #arwen x reader #boromir x reader #elrond x reader #eomer x reader #eowyn x reader #faramir x reader #frodo x reader #galadriel x reader #gandalf x reader #gimli x reader #haldir x reader #legolas x reader #merry x reader #pippin x reader #samwise x reader #* fluffy #* hurt/comfort

[ohraicodoll]

okay am actually obsessed with feral reader & i saw you’re taking prompts/requests!! so how would feral reader react to joel being injured 👀 either while on patrol in wyoming or on their journey there w ellie

Aww thank you!! I'm so happy people have taken to her! And yesssss I'd had something along this line roughly in my head so I'm definitely down with this prompt!

Beast Joel Miller x fem!reader The Last of Us (Show/Game) 2.3k Words Warning: Gore, violence! Really putting the feral in Feral Reader lol

Later, she’d tear herself apart because they knew better. They knew to stay in pairs, knew to still be cautious, knew to not be so casual about the trips to the outskirt cities during patrols. It didn’t matter how long they’d been at Jackson, they knew what life was like outside the walls and it wasn’t something they could be nonchalant about. Complacency led to death and Jackson gave you a taste of that life. Life before a monstrous fungus destroyed everything. They were paying for that delusion now.

She grit her teeth at the sound of flesh hitting flesh, of Joel’s growl of pain and anger coming from around the corner where she was hiding. Something had felt off and she’d come back only to find he had been ambushed, wrist shackled to a pipe low to the ground and cut on his forehead bleeding down into his eye. The bruise blossoming on his cheek told her he’d already taken a few punches.  

From her hiding spot, she could see there were two guys in the room with him. One crouched down holding a knife close to Joel, blood smeared across his face from a busted lip and black eye already forming. The other was standing closest to her, watching what was unfolding with a pistol hanging loosely in his hand. She almost snarled at the site of the blood spreading from Joel’s side, turning her favorite denim shirt dark red from some injury she couldn’t fully see. He was as angry as she was, brow heavy and glaring up at the two with a sneer. It was a stare that had promised violence, had signed death warrants and delivered it. They’d hurt him. They’d hurt Joel. It wasn’t an impossible thing. He was human. She’d seen them get into fights before, but this time they’d cornered him and there was no Ellie barrier. No leash that told her to be quick and efficient and not freak the kid out. No second focus for her. No one besides Joel to protect. All she could feel was rage because they’d hurt one of her people and were enjoying it, grins on their faces and chuckles leaving their throats. Her hackles raised, teeth grit together to the point her jaw hurt, as her hand gripped the bow she’d brought. They had planned to hunt. Got tired of dinner experiments and attempts to cook so they were going back to what they knew. Hunting wasn’t entirely off the table, just a different kind of prey was the target. She’d have to move fast. Move before the one closest to Joel could hurt him, move before they could react and shoot either of them. She didn’t have the same brutal strength her partner did but she was quick and quiet and that was all she needed. Taking a deep breath, she swiveled around the corner and drew the bowstring back taut, feeling it almost kiss her cheek before releasing with a quiet swish. It was fast and at close range the arrow hit home hard and brutally into the back of the guy closest to her’s skull. 

A choked gasp left his throat from the impact then he was sliding to his knees, crumpling and drawing the other’s attention. Even in the chaos she could see Joel’s eyes flick over, take her in as she ran in a dead sprint towards the one crouched by him. He was still kneeling, knife in hand, but he was slow to react. In the back of her mind, she wondered how these men could have gotten the jump on him. Maybe all the jokes about him getting older were starting to ring true, her complaints about settlement life making them complacent coming back to haunt them. Domesticated. They’d been domesticated and for some reason that pissed her off more. The stranger hadn’t managed to get off the ground fast enough and instead was the perfect height for her to get the bow around his neck and yank him hard into her knee. He choked and wheezed, arms flailing as she growled and pulled. She pulled with all her strength, using her arm strength to keep the bow as tight against his windpipe as she could while her knee pushed him harder and harder into it. Ellie had asked once if they had ever snapped anyone’s necks. Like in the movies where they simply yank the goon’s head slightly in the other direction and it cracks, easy peasy. She’d told her it wasn’t that easy. Spines and necks are actually a lot tougher, can take a lot of strain and usually need a lot of pressure to break. Right now she wished it was that simple. Wanted to see how much pressure she could drive into his spine before that crack would reach her ears. The guy finally stopped flailing in panic and decided to use the knife still in his hand, stabbing wildly over his shoulder in an attempt to reach her and get her off him.

Joel was bucking and yanking at the cuffs, yelling as he attempted to get free or reach them to help. His hand was turning purple from the pressure and the blood in his side was spreading even more. She wanted to tell him to quit it, to think and focus because he was only hurting himself. 

Both her hands were starting to hurt from the strain of pulling the bow and he wasn’t going down. With a hiss, the knife managed to skim her shoulder, slicing through her shirt sleeve. It was a gamble but she couldn’t keep it up, was going to exhaust herself before the guy would be out. When the stranger went to stab her again, she dropped the bow abruptly and grabbed his arm, wrenching it far back and ripping the knife from his grip as he screamed in pain. The knife found its home soon after, stabbed into the side of his head, cutting off the sound of his strained gasps. Jerking it back out, she took deep breaths while holding the knife, panting and watching the body collapse at her feet. There was silence for a bit, the slight clinking of the cuffs rattling against the pipes all she could hear for a second and adrenaline shooting through her veins. She enjoyed that silent moment after the fight was over where all she could hear was the sound of her heartbeat and lungs expanding and collapsing. It was the sound of still being alive. Joel’s eyes found hers and she relaxed a bit, seeing the way they burned. Either from want, gratefulness, wonder, she wasn’t sure. But never fear or disgust and that’s all she cared about. He was safe, they were alive, the people were dead. And maybe that small moment with him was what distracted her right before a third attacker came barreling in, tackling her to the ground. The man was big and angry and screaming in her face. The tackle had put her at a disadvantage, shoving her onto her back with her arms pinned between their bodies along with the knife. She couldn’t get her harms free or make any room to get leverage against him. The third attacker was heavy and her breath had been knocked out of her. She struggled to gulp in the air, to get breath into her lungs, before the man’s hands were around her neck. Joel was shouting her name. The man was spitting and yelling so close to her she could feel the spit land on her skin while his hands squeezed. They were big, were wrapped all around her neck easily. All she could do was buck like a trapped animal, teeth and claws bared as she struggled wildly under his weight. If she got taken out, Joel would be next. If she died, Joel would die. He couldn’t get free, couldn’t get back to Jackson and Tommy, couldn’t get back to Ellie. Her throat was raw and lungs burned, her mind desperately trying to find a solution but all she could hear ringing in her ears was Joel’s yells. The man was almost nose to nose with her, dirty face twisted in rage.

As hard as she could muster, she smashed her head into her attackers, feeling the clatter of bones and teeth shake her skull. He shouted and jerked back, hands loosening just a bit. Not enough she could get her arms free, but enough that she rushed forward and latched onto his neck with her teeth. She clamped down as hard as she could. His skin was dirty and salty and bile rose but she bit down harder and harder. Flesh tore beneath her teeth and blood rushed into her mouth, metallic and sharp, as he screamed and tried to get away from her. It only helped her to do more damage, ripping the skin. Jackson was home, but it wouldn’t tone her down. If anything, it gave her more to protect, more things she would tear herself apart to keep safe. She’d rip the throat out of anyone who dared to hurt what was hers. The man rolled off of her, desperately trying to cover the large hole in his neck as blood flooded out. She spat out the chunk of flesh with a growl and turned over with a hard swing of her hand, the knife skimming off bone before sinking into his chest with a hard thud. There was a wet gurgling sound coming from him and she panted, spitting some of the blood in her mouth onto his body. There was no appreciating the silence this time, no letting the rage simmer down. It stuck to her, hot and bright, like the blood coating her mouth and jaw. “Which one had the handcuffs?” she bit out and almost startled herself at how rough and raspy her voice came out. It felt raw, painful, but she swallowed past it and climbed unsteadily to her feet. Joel’s face was a mask as he took her in, took in the three bodies around him and the blood covering her. He didn’t say anything, only jerked his head at the guy with the shiner she had attempted to strangle. Her body didn’t feel grounded, a second delay in her processing making her feel out of it, but she focused on the taste of copper on her tongue and roughly went through the guys pockets searching for the key. Her fingers wrapped around a small piece of metal and she sighed in relief, thankful she wasn’t going to have to find a way to break the pipe and get the cuffs cut off in Jackson. Joel still didn’t say anything as she walked over and kneeled heavily in front of him, hands going to the cuffs and working to get them undone. His hand and wrist were torn up from all the yanking he had done and she was thankful it wasn’t his dominant one or he’d be pissed. Not broken, but the skin was bruised and purple and would need one of the doctors to look at it along with the wound in his side. The metal clicked and she pulled his hand free, not letting go, instead checking it over completely before she cupped his cheek and took in the gash on his forehead. “Hey,” he bit out the word, eyes dark and lips pressed together into a hard frown. She ignored him, focusing on checking him over and taking a mental log of all his injuries. She should have killed them slower. “We’ll have to scrap this run and get you looked at. I don’t trust those cuffs and the last thing we need is you getting infected,” muttering, she yanked up the bottom of his shirt without even asking and took in the long gash along his ribs, “You’ll need stitches. I can also see if Maria can get the blood out of the shirt and maybe patch the hole. This one’s a good one, I don’t want you to have to throw it away.” Joel growled her name again, this time louder, and grabbed her chin roughly in his hand to  force her focus onto his face.

She clenched her jaw under his fingers, swallowing blood and pain. Waited for the beratement, the breakdown of what went wrong and the self-punishment he liked to give himself so often. Waited for the potential disgust at the violence. But she wouldn’t apologize. He’d seen her do worse for less and she wouldn’t apologize for protecting him.

Instead, he watched her and took in the hard line of her brow, the blood drying across her mouth and chin and smeared all over, the bright fire of rage still burning in her eyes. And then he yanked her forward, kissing her hard and brutally, practically pulling her into his lap.

He didn’t cringe away at the taste of someone else’s blood on her tongue, of the way those teeth had ripped into someone a few moments before. He drank her in desperately, uninjured hand diving into her hair and tightening on the strands. The pain was still there. Her throat was raw and his hand stung as it clung to her side, knife wound bleeding even as he brought her onto his thighs. They both didn’t care, swallowing the other’s gasps of pain and pleasure.

Her whole body relaxed in his grip as if to say he’s okay, he’s okay, he’s okay and she let herself hold him tight and kiss him.

He would never say thank you. It was a process to get the words dragged out of him, but with him his actions always spoke louder. His fingers skimming her throat whispered that he would have killed them himself if he could, his tongue against hers spoke of his acceptance, his tight grip on her was his gratefulness.

Joel didn’t pull away from her, didn’t try and change her, and she’d rip the whole world apart for him for that fact alone. He was her family and she protected what was hers.

#tlou #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x feral reader #joel miller female reader #joel miller #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #raicodoll writes #oc: red #fic: beast #Series: feral #anon asks #asks #request fic

[gingerjolover]

I need jb riding my strap for Valentine’s Day 🫠❤️💗

OOOOOH BABY

this one is SO highly requested, and ive got some opinions

shall we take a blurb-esque journey together?

RPF smut under da cut, minors gtfo<3

there was no specification for reader but i think this could be soft!gf reader or even masc!reader bc realistically i think you're getting treated like a princess on valentines day

i do think jules has certain feelings about v-day like maybe the capitalistic affects on holidays riddled with consumerism

but she also will use ANY excuse to spoil you

so vday could be a day where jb literally just does whatever you want, like you wanna go to the aquarium? you bet your ass she's taking you to the aquarium. movie marathon? oh babe, she's on it and has snacks and drinks and the living room all cozy and decked out

depending on how long your relationship has been going on for or even if its relatively new but maybe it' your first vday together, its clear that jb is a GIVER

like she would literally rip the moon from the sky and give it to you kneeling down holding it on a silver platter for your taking

but the one thing that you really want is to give back to her

and there are plenty of things that you can do for jules, she strikes me as a "just wanna be in the same room and breathe the same air" kind of lover

like after a long day you washing her hair, giving her tense muscles a massage, rubbing cuticle oil on her nails and giving her hands a massage with some nice lotion, "coloring" in her tattoos, or even just giving her a long hug or cuddling and pressing kisses to her skin are all acceptable physical means of compensation for what she does for you

but she doesn't ask for things, especially during sex

she strikes me as someone who isn't quite stone, but maybe somewhere adjacent where like yes of course she wants to get off but she finds SO much pleasure in making you feel good that sometimes she doesn't NEED to

but you want to spoil her so after a really nice dinner or maybe a fun day at home, you're both snuggled up and on the couch or the bed and i think the approach might be a little different

soft!gf is definitely more timid when initiating sex, not like timid like shy but more passive? like jb knows your body better than you do practically and she knows by the way you squirm that you want her to fuck you

regardless, i think jb's perfect starting point is her being able to make you cum at least once with her mouth/fingers OR a combo

like thats a starting point, it can only build up from there but to her that is the best way for her to gauge where you're at and its a good spot for her to be (girlie LOVES to be between your thighs, she eats like she's never eaten before i will die on this hill)

and jb will usually kiss up your body afterwards, her wet chin and lips smacking kisses on every part of your skin

the little fucker loves to press her lips to yours, mumbling against your mouth, usually along the lines of "tastes good, hm?", moving away from your lips and pressing kisses on your face, her brown eyes twinkling mischievously

and usually your hands in her hair as she makes her way down, tongue and teeth teasing a nipple, sucking hickeys into your chest but tonight you tug on her hair gently

she looks up, lips all puffy and pink, baby cow eyes blown out with lust, "what're ya rushin' me for?" or something comes out of her mouth, her lil southern twang making an appearance

and you're like, "the strap," and she's smirking, thinking you're being needy and she tries to dive back in, "be patient..."

"no i- i wanna use it on you," tumbles out of your mouth, confidence skyrocketing from your first orgasm

and she looks like a deer in headlights being like, "huh- w-what?"

and all it really takes is you whining a please, before she's helping you adjust it on your body

i feel like soft!gf has very little experience actually wearing the strap, maybe masc!gf has more experience despite jb being the giver in the relationship

either way jb is sitting lowkey awkwardly, her cheeks are a pink mess or she's doing that eye thing where it's kinda giving side eye

"we don't- i don't have to do this jay, i can just use my mouth," you say, making sure she knows she has full control

and she's stammering like, "what?! no i just-"

"what baby?" you ask her so sweetly, running a hand through her hair, and she's shaking like a fucking leaf

"if you keep looking at me like that with that, thing, on you i'm gonna cum," she says quickly, hella embarrassed that just you kneeling on the bed with it is doing something to her

it's honestly a blur but next thing you know jb is on top, riding the strap, your hands on her hips

and she talks about you being whiny.... biiiiitch she is the WHINIEST mf ever on the strap okay

she literally can't form coherent words, her forehead is glued to your shoulder, her breathing heavy as her hands press on the bed next to your head

you have to encourage her to keep going, truthfully she doesn't have a ton of rhythm, like the way she moves her hips is sloppy because she's feeling more than just the base of the strap on her clit like she would normally feel

i think you'd adjust slightly, pushing her up gently and thrusting upwards and she would damn near shriek

it takes a lot to get her worked up sexually, she's the dirty talker when she's domming you but she has no words, just little mumbles and whines and whimpers and they sound so pretty you can't help but patronize her just a bit because she does the same to you but a million times worse casually

"doing so good jay," you'd breathe out and she's about to lose it

poor jb's literally leaking all over the base of the strap like she can't help it

and when she cums she literally squeals and you have to stifle a giggle because her face is buried into your neck

she moves in to overstim territory pretty quickly so you kinda move her off of it and pull out which she does not like and she kinda huffs when you do

and then you pull out all the stops

lots of kisses, warm cloth, ice water through a silicon straw (she likes to bite them this is my hc another hill i will die on), words of affirmation and praise and then a nice soak in the tub

i wouldn't say she's in subspace but she is kind of in a haze until she's laying with her back against your front in the tub and its almost like she sobers up

"you're in my spot," she grumbles, the grumpiness in her voice a result of absolute vulnerability

you just giggle, pushing her hair out of her face and kissing her cheeks

"we can switch" before she's scoffing like of course you were going to switch

there is definitely a debrief about how she felt, i think she can't quite articulate how much she likes it but its not going to be an everyday thing because as much as it felt good she feels more pleasure getting you off

*insert cheesy "happy valentine's day" exchange here* which julien engages in with an eye roll and a small smile before going into the history of western consumer driven holidays

and of course when engaging in pillowtalk, she does spitball some "new positions" that you could try if "you ever want to ya know, wear the strap again," and you're like.... "so you liked it?" with a smirk, and she's kinda playing it off before being like, "maybe for my birthday we could..."

#anon cutie #julien baker x reader #boygenius x reader #julien baker smut #julien baker blurb #gingy's cupid shuffle #gingy's blurb night #sorry this is so late y'all! #posting a lot the next few days #love u<3

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Ahh I'm so excited to see another person writing x readers for Pokémon SV!! Could you write something where the reader jokingly "proposes" to Arven with the line "Will you make me sandwiches every day for the rest of my life?" Thank you!

The weather in Paldea was quite nice this evening. Fitting for a picnic.

So you and Arven decided to settle down on a grassy field near the base of Glaseado Mountain. It was usually quite cold and windy, but the weather decided to be generous today with a light breeze.

After all you’ve been through together, from hunting Titans to journeying through Area Zero, this was a much needed break for you both. Plus since you were a Champion, you had to step back from the spotlight for a while.

As Arven fixed up some sandwiches, you watched your Pokémon frolic about, smiling fondly at your pride and joy of a team.

Even the Paradox Pokémon you recently caught seemed to be getting along with them perfectly fine. You worried they’d have a hard time fitting in with the present..but it's great to see them becoming the best of friends.

Hearing quiet squeaks, you turned your attention to your Tandemaus...who now had two smaller mice at their hips.

You stared down at them, perplexed as to where they came from, so you consulted the Pokedex for any clues.

“Oh! So you’re...Maushold now? Huh.." This was especially surprising; under normal circumstances, you'll immediately notice whenever a Pokemon of yours evolves.

Instead Tandemaus somehow evolved behind your back and...apparently spawning children is all that changed about them.

"...oh well, glad to meet the new family members." You chuckled softly.

Maushold nodded, before shifting their focus to the picnic table. They skipped over to Arven as their children held onto their parents’ tails.

How adorable.

“Hey hun?” You called out. “You’re gonna have two more mouths to feed!”

“What...oh.” Looking up, he blinked as Maushold stopped in front of him, apparently seeing a cheese sandwich he was making. They squeaked loudly in demand, the little ones tugging on his pant legs.

"Ah! Hey!!" He stumbled back a little and threw his hands up in surprise. “Okay, okay! I'll feed you and your uhh..kids. Hang on.”

Once he was released from their hold, he hastily cut the sandwich into little bite-sized pieces, before kneeling down to give it to them on a plate. “Here you go fellas. A meal for a family of four.”

Nodding in gratitude, the mice ran back to you and [Koraidon/Miraidon], deciding to eat their food with you. The parents made sure their kids ate first before helping themselves.

You smiled sweetly, seeing how much your boyfriend cared for your own Pokémon. Whenever you faltered in the art of sandwich-making, he’s there to save you all from an abhorrent meal. It's just a few of the many reasons why you loved him.

After Maushold was done eating, the parents let their children go play with your Legendary, while they sat comfortably in the grass, keeping a close eye on them. They held each other’s hands, turning to nuzzle noses lovingly.

Such a display warmed your heart, reminding you of all the dates you’ve been on with Arven.

In the beginning, he shyed away from giving affection (even when there’s only wild Pokémon around). But after everything that's happened, especially after learning the fate of his parents...he’s never held you closer.

He only then realized you truly did love him and wanted to stay with him.

It’s fair to say your bond was as strong as a Tandemaus'.

Though since they’re actually a married couple..you wondered if you'd have that kind of love with him in the distant future..

Maushold suddenly perked up and gestured for you to come closer with a sense of urgency And you kneeled down, curious as to what they wanted to say.

“Uh huh....what..? I-I..I mean yes we are, but we’re not--” Sighing, your smiled awkwardly, shaking your head. “We’re just not ready for that yet. With trainers, couples are different.”

They knew how much you loved Arven, but didn’t realize there was a “dating” process for humans; their species simply goes straight to the married life, so they didn’t know what you were waiting for.

While you weren’t entirely opposed to the idea of marrying him, now was simply not the best time. Maybe once you both graduated will it be something to consider.

But as you looked back and saw him splitting a sandwich with Mabosstiff, an idea popped in your mind. 

It may be extremely corny--and might end with you begging one of your Pokémon to use Amnesia on you--though it could prove to him that you’re fully committed to this relationship.

Besides, it’d be an interesting way to dance around the subject.

So after telling the plush mice your plan, you stood back up and headed to the picnic table, sitting across from Arven. “Hey, so um..there’s something I wanna ask you.” You attempted to stay serious.

“Hm?” Blinking, he finished his food and tilted his head. “What’s up?”

“W-Will..youmakemesandwichesfortherestofmylife?”

His face looked blank.

“....[y/n]...I love you, but you’re gonna have to speak way slower than-”

Suddenly, you grasped his hands and stared deeply into his eyes; he was taken aback and didn't know what you were doing, but kept his gaze on yours.

Despite feeling flushed, you took a deep breath before continuing.

“Arven, I-I..can see the future. Not that kind of future with robot Pokémon running around, but a future with us being together, enjoying sandwiches just like we are now. So basically what I’m trying to say is um...would you--will you make me sandwiches every day for the rest of my life?” A bashful smile overtook your face. You rushed through the last line still, though nowhere near as fast as before.

Both of you could feel the stares of all your Pokémon as they stopped playing, confused and amused at the moment their trainers were sharing.

Arven’s face flared up at the “proposal”. Normally he’d hide it with his hands, but unfortunately that was impossible, so he just huffed and looked down, thinking.

“You..don’t mind being with me forever? I mean...I-I know I’m not a strong trainer like you or smart like Penny..” He muttered. “Is being a “sandwich artist” even a-?”

“Of course it's a redeeming quality.” You chuckled. “They say the best way to someone’s heart is through their stomach. But obviously I love you for, well, you. Whether you make great food or not.”

“....hah, thank you. So to answer your question....”

For a few moments he remained silent, before looking back up at you with the warmest of smiles and sparkles in his eyes.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind doing that for the rest of my life. Whatever sandwich you want, whenever you want it!”

#i spent ages trying to figure out how to format this as a 'joke proposal' but fhdbfhrhr #clanask #anonymous #pokemon x reader #pokemon scarlet x reader #pokemon violet x reader #pokemon arven #pokemon arven x reader #arven x reader #fluff

[lilambs]

hi could i request an inexperienced reader and a soft experienced eddie having their first time together? i love ur writing sm :)

hi peach, i hope this is okay. if not you are more than welcome to resubmit and i’ll try again

-

“i’m gonna touch you now okay sweetheart? that okay with you?” eddie muttered ever so softly.

you couldn’t really understand why you were so afraid, this is something you had been begging eddie for.

he had always told you no before; stating that you were everything to him, and that things like this took time.

he could sense the fear radiating off of you, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. just say the word and i’ll uhm. i’ll give you some space alright?”

you took a deep breath before parting your lips, “i trust you. i know that you won’t hurt me and i want you to be my first.” you replied.

eddie felt like his heart was threatening to beat out of his chest and make a run for it, stunned at the pure vulnerability you were giving him.

he lifted his hand to gently cradle his palm against your jaw, his ring laced thumb resting on the soft fat of your cheek.

growing with desperation his eyes met yours, searching for another piece of consent.

he could never be too sure.

“please.. i want this.” you mewled, and those four words alone was all it took to rev up his engine.

eddie practically consumed your lips with his, not leaving any chance for a non-verbal argument over dominance.

you could tell he was holding back, the fear of doing something that would make you regret choosing him still lingering in the back of his mind.

so you slipped your tongue into his mouth, causing him to let out of soft groan. while leaving a fiery burning in the pit of his stomach.

he shifts both of your bodies so that he’s on top of you.

your mouth involuntarily continues to let out the most delicate sounds ever known to man.

or at least that’s what eddie thinks.

he mindlessly starts to roll his hips against yours, the rough denim material and the thin pleated skirt not enough to block the feeling of his painfully hard erection.

twitching ever so slightly at every noise that leaves your cute little mouth.

he slides his hand down from his jaw to your neck, giving it a small squeeze.

he starts to continue his journey of exploring your body, his hand traces your collarbone in continuation towards your stomach before arriving at his desired destination.

your precious cunt, protected by both your skirt and glorious cotton panties with a cherry that was placed right in the middle.

his fingers begin to slowly creep their way to the warm supple flesh, as if they had a mind of their own.

he had knew everything there is to know about your body, he would even go as far to say he knew you more than you knew yourself.

starting to feel self conscious as he becomes face to face with your aching slit, you bring your hands down to cover whatever was exposed.

eddie’s eyebrows furrowed, he crawled down to leave gentle wet kisses along your thighs. “so fucking beautiful honey. my pretty girl, would do anything for her.” he muttered against your soft skin.

you let out a whine, needing to feel his lips against yours, “kiss me. want you to kiss me.”

he grinned, leaning up to take his shirt off before devouring your lips. to eddie you tasted like everything right with the world, there was no other way to explain your taste other than pure euphoria.

his warm tatted flesh against yours sent fleeting waves of an indescribable sensation throughout your entire body.

the same body you had seen hundreds of times now holding a different sight, you couldn’t even begin to explain.

from eddie’s soft russet hair to his captivating hands that were littered with bulky silve rings.

he was beautiful.

you started to reach behind your back and unclasp your bra while eddie left a line of kises across your jaw.

he could feel every bit of self control that he was holding onto slowly leave his body. he needed to control himself for you, you were his pretty little petal and had to make sure you felt good in every way possible.

self restraint seemed impossible when your perky nipples are practically taunting him, begging to be touched, licked, pinched, anything.

you can feel your heart beating out of your chest, moving a mile a minute as eddie placed his hand on top of your slick riddened slit, his fingertips ghosting over your clit.

you flinched as eddie started to rub his thumbpad against the wet spot on your panties, driving him to edge of insanity.

“doing so well baby. so well.” he said, his voice being then vocal replication of honey as he rubbed continuous circles through the fabric.

muttering endless amounts of praise about how beautiful you are and how well you’re doing.

you’re met with vigorous shocks of pleasure waving through your body. adrenaline building in your fingers and toes.

pure ecstasy stuttering over you as eddie slid your underwear off before slowly sliding in the tip of his index finger.

he starts to gently pump his finger in and out of you, leaving just enough room to cause friction but never completely taking it out.

by now you had completely lost the ability to form any sort of words, all you could do was thrash around and whine every other two seconds.

“there’s my pretty girl, how’re you feeling sweetheart?” he asks.

you looked up at him, all the answers he needed were in your eyes. he grinned, loving the sight of pure pleasure on his girls face. and it was all because of him.

“words baby. tell me what want.” he leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead, his cool lips sending a relieving revelation onto your risingwarm skin.

tiny bits of drool were slipping out of your mouth, making it nearly impossible to speak. so all you could do was miserably nod your head.

he chuckled, fortunately for him his palm was facing upward. so he started to play with your clit with his thumb, rubbing in a circular motion.

by now your discomfort was entirely out the window and replaced with pure bliss.

he started to increase his speed, the feeling of your warmth clenching around him giving him the okay to do so.

“still with me baby? hi honey.” he murmured, raising his free hand to move the hairs that were stuck on your forehead to the side. letting you rest your head against his arm.

your body started to thrash around as the pleasure started to burn in a good way,leaving you with a feeling that was tightening deep inside the pit of your stomach.

eddie let his finger plunge deep inside you, while you whined strings of “uh..uh..uh..” into the room.

you lock eddie’s arm into a death grip as you let go, him continuously finger fucking you throughout this gratifying process, gradually slowing his pace until you’re practically panting like a lovesick puppy beneath him.

he eventually slowly but surely slides his finger out of you before submerging it into his mouth, savoring the taste of your sweet slick; enjoying it so much that he goes back for another taste. dipping his finger into your slick before bringing it back up and popping it into his mouth.

your legs started lashing as you rode of out the aftershocks of your high.

eddie stood up and crossed his arms against his chest, admiring the result of his “lightwork.”

you meekly raised your hand and let out a desperate whimper, signaling to him that you wanted to continue.

he grinned before beginning to tug his jeans off, resulting in his erection creating a tent in his boxers.

you let out a small gasp as eddie pulled his boxers down, his cock finally springing from its clothed prison.

you had taken plenty of bathes and showers with him before, he was your boyfriend for christs sake you knew his body inside out.

but you still couldn’t help but be stunned by how big he was. panic rose in your chest as you began to question how he could fit that inside of you.

eddie attempts to distract you by smothering you with kisses, grinning as you started to giggle uncontrollably.

even while your mind raced relentlessly you couldn’t help but slowly feel soothed at the thought you couldn’t be with anyone better than him.

“hi pretty girl.” he murmured in your ear before placing a gentle kiss on your temple. “look at me honey, in no way do we have to go through with this okay? need my girl to feel safe.”

you weakly nod, “i’m okay.”

his heart jumps out of his chest at those two simple words, “my peach.”

he leaned down so his forehead could meet yours, you softly shut your eyes while eddie took the chance to admire you and all your ground breaking features.

you inhale before you try to brace yourself for what comes next. fear creeping up your spine as eddie aligns himself with your entrance and slowly pushes in.

“look at me sweetheart, there you go. just look at me yeah? just like that honey.” he cooed, he could feel your walls stretching, slowing down in fear of hurting you.

he starts to slowly rut his hips, slipping the tip of his cock in and out, allowing you to get comfortable and used to the burning sensation.

he leaned down and started to pepper your face in an endless amount of kisses, successsfully distracting you.

he attempts to bottom out, slowly plunging into you for a little longer before sliding further in.

there is a shock of agnozing pain causing you to sharply inhale. tears track down your cute little face as you start to dig your nails into his arms causing him to slow his movements even more than before.

“i know honey i know.” he whispers as he leaned down to kiss your tears.

after a while the pain quickly gives way into pleasure, “uh..uh..uh..” the reoccurring mumbling stumble from your mouth without a thought behind them.

eddie feels as if he is on the borderline of hysteria as he tried to fight the urge to not pound into your newly touched cunt.

eddie successfully managed to bottom out, his hips coming to a halt as your walls tightened around him. your face crumpled in pain, cheeks growing a fiery red as tears began to fall.

he raised his hand up gently wipe your tears with his pinky, “look at me baby, are you okay? do you need to stop?”

your eyes flutter open up and are met with his beautiful doe eyes, face scrunched up in worry and concern.

“keep going. please keep going” you reassured him, you could take it, he was making this experience nothing but pleasurable for you. smiling at the sound of your sweet voice he slowly continues to glide into you.

the more that time passed the more the pleasure became absolutely delicious. your poor little cunt finally relaxed around him, giving him the leisure to pick up his pace.

the hurt felt so good, to the point where you were eternally greatful for the most perfect boyfriend anyone could possibly receive.

he adores you. he gave you a small smile as he starts to take in how ethereal you are, he had truly hit the jackpot with you.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #daddy!eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie x you #daddy!eddie #bimbo!reader #soft!eddie munson #eddie munson x innocent!reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #soft smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x chubby reader

[jreads]

Unexpected Constellations (Part 15)

Rating: M (18+, Minors DNI)

Word Count: 9K

Warnings: Foul language, Fluff oh my god so much fluff can you believe it, Smut, Angst if you squint

A/N: The end. AAAAAHHHH?! I started this fic in the depths of my illness and it's been with me as I navigated my way through a horrible horrible time in my life. But good god does it hold such a special place in my heart, especially as my first piece of proper fic writing. Thank you and I love you to all the people who have joined the journey along the way and left comments and support, you guys are the best. I might go cry now, but please keep an eye out for more of my work in the future! 🩶🤍 masterlist.

“Entering the Adega system.” 

The navicomputer’s sudden robotic timbre jolted you from where you sat, straddling Din’s lap in the open cockpit. Contrary to your behaviour, he barely even flinched, licking a stripe up your neck before kissing back down and pulling the strap of your top off one shoulder. Things were not going according to plan. How fortunate.

“We should… We’re going to be… there soon… we should—oh, stars.” Your head lolled back, granting him easier access; he took it greedily. One palm had a handful of your hip, the other scaled up your back to cradle your neck.

“Need you,” he grunted into your chest. Animalistic almost.

Oh, fuck. Yes. 

You fumbled with his belt as he unhooked the button on your trousers. There was no time to undress, to do anything past the minimum. But neither of you cared much in the moment. You had come into the flight deck to ask him if he wanted caf; what the hell had happened? Not that you could find it in yourself to complain, especially as you raised your weight just a fraction so he could tug your pants down, pull your panties to the side, line himself up easier and—

Your moan was embarrassingly loud and he—ever the strategist—tried to silence it with a sloppy kiss. He bottomed out, hitting something unfathomably deep inside you.

“Quiet.” His eyes were squeezed in concentration. “We can’t wake Grogu.” 

Shit, Grogu. He was still asleep in a closed pram, but of course the cockpit door didn’t shut. You would both have to be very quiet. But as Din drove his hips upward, unable to keep still, you realised it might be more of a challenge than you had bargained for.

He drew back down before thrusting again. “I don’t think… I can’t… Din!” He slapped a hand over your mouth then, and something about it was so hot that you clenched around him, hard. It was his turn to make too much noise.

It turned into a game of reckless abandon, Din’s movements sharp, the circle of your hips deliberate, a test to see who could keep it together. And you were both losing.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. He had reprimanded you for being too loud, but he wasn’t faring much better. You were pulsing around him, eyes rolling back, and he could feel your mouth agape under his hand. You had liked it when he covered your mouth, he had felt it. He wondered if you would also like his hand around your throat, your hands tied behind your back. He wondered just how dirty you could get.

The green circle of Ossus loomed closer in his periphery, but what really mattered was the way your body jerked with each drive of his cock. The choked whines that managed to escape his muffling. Din gripped you by the waist, practically pulling you down onto him.

He had wanted you to himself—just for a little bit—before Skywalker inevitably stole you away. It wouldn’t be forever, he hoped it wouldn’t be for very long at all, but any minute spent far from your side suddenly felt unbearable. He’d stay inside you forever if it meant you never left him.

‘Learn to be selfish sometimes, Djarin. It’s the one thing you’ll never regret.’ Maybe the man had a point because holy shit this was amazing. You were amazing.

He was getting sloppy, nearing that dangerous edge that seemed to come all too quickly when he was with you. And you opened your eyes, refocusing on him, as if you could feel it too. You looked fucked out, drunk, eyes hooded and so dark he could see his own reflection in them. He hoped Luke Sykwalker was a merciful man.

You both came at the same time, and he struck deep, turning his own moan into a gasping exhale instead. You whispered a quiet ‘Oh’ beneath his palm before succumbing to the tremors of your orgasm. 

Moments passed, and when he finally uncovered your mouth, he realised that you were laughing. Breathless and giggling. 

“What just happened? I came in to ask if you wanted caf.” And then you were collapsing again into a fit.

He chuckled with you, suddenly sheepish. “Sorry.”

“No. Don’t say sorry. That was… fuck.” Another shaky giggle. Stars, it was so good to see you laugh. He brushed a stray hair back from your face, trailed a thumb over your cheekbone and your features cleared, going soft. “What is it?” you asked, as if his thoughts were written in the creases between his brows. Maybe they were.

He whispered. “Don’t leave me.”

Your eyes widened, mouth parting. “What?” Hands cupped his face. So smooth against the roughness of his stubble. “I’m not… Din, I’m not leaving.” 

He said nothing, afraid his words might betray him.

Understanding passed over your face. “You thought I wanted to go to Ossus to ask him to train me?”

He couldn’t look you in the eyes. Because yes, that’s exactly what he had thought. You lifted his chin.

“He won’t.” You said it with such surety, as if anyone wouldn’t kill to keep you close. “And even if he would…” You were shaking your head. “…I have something much more important right here.”

It was dizzying, this relief. 

“I just need some guidance… a few questions answered. That’s all.” You leaned in to kiss him, sweet and innocent and far too chaste. “I would never leave you.” 

The two of you sat there for a moment, the Razor Crest gaining steadily on the planet, his cock softening inside you. Your presence so permeating that he forgot, just for a moment, that he actually had to land the ship.

Luke was waiting for you as the Crest touched down, dressed in immaculate black, as if he was expecting you. Grass swayed in the ship’s wake, but you had little time to focus on the flora. He captivated your attention immediately; your preparation having done absolutely nothing to assuage your anxiety. In addition, the wisdom that emanated from him only served to remind you of your own training, your inferiority. But Din was just behind you, and Grogu, squealing at the sight of him, launched his small body down the ramp.

“Well, it’s very good to see you too, Grogu,” Luke addressed the child before regarding you. Grogu had already busied himself with a passing butterfly, easily distracted. He extended a hand. “I was wondering when I would get to meet you.” You were hyperaware of the clamminess of your palms when he clasped yours in his own. However, he only offered a smile. You were a bit starstruck.

“Mandalorian.” He inclined his head in greeting towards Din. Din returned the gesture. “When I saw the ship circling, I thought perhaps Grogu had reason to return. But I sense that I was wrong.”

For hours you had pondered over what to say, picked apart the small meanings of each specific word, but suddenly it seemed your entire vocabulary had emptied from your mind. You started to speak and then trailed off, suddenly unsure of how to word your reasons for coming. What if he couldn’t help? Was this stupid? Were you stupid to come here?

“It’s all right. Conversation is only a formality, really. I know why you’re here. I can feel it.” You noticed the lightsaber hilt at his side, the way it caught the light. He seemed to track your gaze. “I’m not sure if I can be of much more help, but I’ll certainly try my best.”

You hadn’t expected him to be so… kind? Willing? Maker, what a relief. “Thank you.”

But Luke only motioned to the treed hills behind him. “Walk with me.” To Din he said, “There’s a lagoon just beyond those saplings. Grogu is well acquainted with the aquatic life there. We will rejoin you soon.” There was little room left for discussion. But still, before you parted ways you cast Din a heavy look, one you could tell he returned. It said don’t worry and I love you and I’ll be back soon. You could imagine his eyes under the visor, firm and yet understanding. You loved him so much that the force of it might cleave you in half.

He angled his helmet toward where Skywalker was already walking, a way of saying get going. And so you turned, rushing to keep up with him, noting the calm posture of hands clasped behind his back. And the way the impending forest seemed to part and whisper around him.

You ambled for quite a while, in silence through the greenery. The air of the planet smelled sweet, buzzing and alive, quite like Rishi. But more powerful.

“What do you feel?” Luke’s voice broke the quiet, soothing although sudden.

“Life.”

He seemed satisfied with the vague answer. “Good. That’s the Force. It resides in all living things, and you recognize it. That’s why you connect the way you do.”

“It’s strong.”

He nodded. “Yes. Ossus has a rich history with the Jedi. The power of it resides in the very soil of the planet. That’s why I chose to stay here. To teach.”

So much power. Such potential. But pure, uncorrupted, all of it.

“Something troubles you.”

You hummed at the ground. “It’s hard to explain.”

It was silly of you to think that he might resent you, cast you out. Because he stopped you in your path, a look of real comprehension on his face. “I can imagine.” Luke gestured to the side, a pile of flat rocks arranged in a circle. “It may be easier not to talk.”

Nerves gripped at you again, sending pins and needles down your legs. “I… I’m not trained in Jedi meditation—”

He had already lowered himself and crossed his legs atop one of the makeshift seats. “That’s alright, I will guide you. Sit.”

He seemed so sure. Momentarily, you were glad for his assertiveness. Especially as you fumbled for words and picked at your fingernails, fumbled with your beskar vambraces. You followed his direction, mimicking his own body language. 

“Don’t dwell on what you were taught before. Listen to my direction and don’t try to force it… it should come naturally.” Luke’s posture was commanding, and you found your own spine straightening in self-consciousness.

He had already closed his eyes, seemingly oblivious to your inner dialogue. “Let yourself drift. Feel the nature around you. The leaves… the way they move. The animals, the insects. Don’t worry about me; I’ll find you.”

Connecting with the planet was easy enough. You had done it before on Sorgan. Though you felt you were the clunky, uncoordinated counterpart to Luke’s polished and refined technique. When you meditated with Grogu, sometimes you could see things, images, memories that belonged to him. Was Luke going to be able to see those things? You suddenly found yourself racking your brain for moments of guilt, embarrassment, things you would rather he didn’t witness—

“Focus,” he reprimanded, a hint of humor beneath his words.

You shrunk a little, mumbling a quick sorry under your breath. Okay. Whatever. You were here for guidance, and it could only be effective if he understood what he was dealing with. Who he was dealing with.

The sun was peeking through holes in the forest canopy, dappling your skin and the surrounding bamboo shoots with glowing warmth. The flowers, hidden within tall grasses, seemed to rise on tiptoes towards its light. A fat insect swooped low over their vibrant colours before shooting up, up, up. You went with it, feeling the ground fall out from beneath you. In the distance there were shimmers of light off the reflection of a calm pond. Ripples disturbed its surface, caused by a devious little green hand… a shriek of delight. Behind it, a gruff voice, shining silver, weapons laid in a pile on the ground. Love. Oh, such love. I radiated from them, so strong that it seemed to emanate from all around. So strong that it emanated from you.

You felt the moment that Luke joined you, distantly aware of his consciousness. He beckoned to you, and you turned from the scene, toward something much more serious. It was as if he opened himself to you, willing you to imitate his own action. The connection was so strong that it caused your pupils to flicker beneath closed eyelids. His life passed in flashing images.

Endless sands of the Tatooine desert, Jawa Sandcrawlers, an astromech unit, black smoke from a scorching fire. A hooded figure, the blur of hyperspace stars, a loud and affectionate Wookie, the cozy interior of a rounded ship. A beautiful woman with long brown hair. Headstrong and fearless. The Cloud City, dazzling in shades of white and gold. Memories began to overlap, and you gasped both in shock and familiarity. The Death Star, its ghostly halls, a black cape sweeping over them. The sound of heavy boots. Lightsabers, blue, green, red, yellow eyes and cracking skin. Explosions. Death and sorrow and jubilation and fear and loss and learning. Grogu. No, that couldn’t be right. An older Grogu, wrinkled and hunched over in a house of mud and sticks. A planet of brilliant white snow. War and hate and redemption and love and family. The legends, the stories you had read about on the web, they were nothing compared to this. You could feel what he felt, the complication of it all. You were barely aware of the cool slide of tears down your cheeks. Your physical body felt a whole planetary system away. Months could have passed, and you would have been none the wiser. Some time later, there was a phantom hand on your shoulder, Luke’s voice steady behind you. 

“Come back.” 

You tried, but it was impossible. Like grasping at clouds. At dispersing smoke. Who were you in comparison to this vast existence? Irrelevance. No one. Nothing. 

“Use my memories. Find yourself.”

You floated through his consciousness like a wraith, searching desperately for a sense of belonging, pulling at threads on a tapestry. There was a particularly strong one down a darkened hallway, littered with fallen droids. They were felled by lightsaber strokes, the melted metal still glowing from the heat of the blade. Shouldn’t you be afraid? 

But you weren’t, not at all. Because somehow, impossibly, you knew that at the end of this hall was home.

The door of the ship’s bridge slid open smoothly and you saw the back of Luke’s cloak, the dirty blonde of his hair. But then he stepped to the side and looked at you—really looked at you. But you weren’t there. This was his memory. 

In that moment, you understood why you were drawn to it.

Helmet held at his side, Din held Grogu, the beginnings of silvery tears lining his beautiful eyes. “It’s time to go,” he said softly, and the child’s ears drooped. “Don’t be afraid.”

You opened your eyes, lashes clotted with tears of your own.

Luke was smiling at you faintly. “Interesting… that out of all my memories you would choose that one. That should answer your question, shouldn’t it?”

“My question?” 

“You could have chosen a memory of the Empire… of the Death Star… of Palpatine… but you didn’t. You shied away from fear or anger as a tether and moved towards love.”

Huh. It had seemed such an obvious choice that you hadn’t even bothered to frame it that way. “But, I thought that attachment was forbidden for the Jedi.”

Luke looked pensive. “It’s been written that way in the texts, but I’ve been giving it much thought lately.” 

“How do you mean?”

“Well…” He clasped his hands in his lap. “I don’t think it’s so black and white. I think the volatility of attachment is what made the Jedi implement the rule and enforce it so vehemently, but that doesn’t mean it’s innately bad.” Luke seemed lost in thought for another moment. “My father… attachment to my mother is what drove him to the dark side of the Force.”

Oh. You hadn’t known that.

“…But attachment to me is what brought him back.” He lifted a pebble from the ground, spinning it. “It’s a complicated concept.” Then, he laughed lightly to himself. “I can’t train you.”

“I figured you would say that. I didn’t come to ask to be trained.”

“I know.” He nodded. “But I want you to know all the same. It’s not because of what you were taught, or how you were taught it. It’s not even really about attachment either. It’s only because, in a matter of time, I would lose you for the same reason I lost Grogu.”

To Din.

“He seems to attract force sensitives,” Luke said, a handsome smile gracing his features.

You shook your head. “No… No, he just attracts trouble.”

“I can feel how much you love them, and how much they love you. Something like that… it’s rare.” He stood, extending a hand to help you up as well. 

You took it, knees aching. How long had you been sitting there? Hours maybe? The sun was much lower.

“I understand you have a crystal in your possession.”

“Yes, I do.” You were surprised by how little it bothered you now. 

Walking with you, Luke offered: “I could help you with it, if you’d like?”

“Yes. I would like that.”

The walk back through the forest was one of renewed peace, Luke’s insights having soothed some long-jagged edge inside you. You could hear Grogu’s voice echo through the treeline as you finally approached the Crest. How you longed to go to them.

“Your apprehension has waned,” Luke noted as you climbed the ramp. 

You nodded. 

“I only told you what you already knew. What your family has already made clear.”

“It helps to hear it from someone like you.” The storage compartment opened easily, and you found the box that Din had referenced, the same old wood, the same paranormal feel. Though it wasn’t nearly as intimidating anymore. You reached in to retrieve it, standing and turning back to Luke.

“Don’t doubt yourself. Internal conflict can lead you down a darker path. No one decides who you are… only you.”

His words reminded you of similar ones heard only days before. They think they know who I am, but they won’t give me the chance to show them who I want to be. A Twi’lek surrounded by swirling fabrics.

He led you to a rounded stone hut atop a steep hill. The interior was cool, simple. He sat once more and you followed, placing the box on the soft ground beneath you. You flipped the lid.

The red of the crystal was angry, the fissured lines etched into its surface somehow impossibly deeper. It seemed so at odds with the soft green of this planet. But nestled beside it was that small piece of piping, bent in at one end from where you had clutched it. Din must have pried it from your grasp while you were unconscious.

Luke smiled at it. “Thoughtful,” he mused. “It will be useful.” Fingers fluttering through air, he lifted the crystal, turning it in the dim light of the den. “Did you know that no crystal is naturally created red?”

No, you hadn’t known that.

“In the presence of a Sith, particularly a powerful one, it becomes corrupted… it bleeds. That is why the blade becomes scarlet. Sometimes, because of the unstable nature of it, the saber will flicker, whereas those of the Jedi are often still and calm.”

“What about D— The Mandalorian’s saber?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about the creation of the darksaber. I feel that is a story better told by the Mandalorians.”

The kyber crystal came to rest back in its box, and Luke rose to retrieve a bundle from across the room. Within it were a number of strange pieces of metal, each of varying shapes and sizes. 

“Your piece will make most of the hilt, but you will need a power cell… stabilizers… an activation lever. Pick what speaks to you; I will supply the rest.”

You moved—comfortably quiet—in tandem, similar to the arts and crafts you had done with the children on Sorgan. I made you want to laugh, comparing the creation of a weapon to such innocent fun. But before long, you had a line-up of materials in front of you, springs and screws and things you couldn’t even name, spaced out and flat on the ground. In the center of it all was the crystal, glowing faintly as if in anticipation.

“When you’re ready…” Luke began, “…close your eyes and connect. You’ll feel all the components around it, the way they interact. It will feel a bit like a puzzle.” He looked wistful. “All you have to do is solve it.”

He said it as if it was easy. Maybe it was. Didn’t you want to find out? 

Your eyes fluttered shut, and the room around you faded to black.

It was similar to the dream you had had of the crystal before, a sort of limbo. Except it didn’t speak to you anymore. It beckoned as always, but seemed to heave with effort, giving the impression of being sick or injured. When you reached out to it, it sighed. 

The parts of the saber came into focus, making an odd sort of mental sense. Like trying to chart a hyperspace lane, careful of obstructions and aware of where all the stars fell. Clicks and twists. Overtop of it all, the casing of metal pipe fit into place. Like it was made for this. The surface puckered and folded, and you let it do as it pleased. The was a final pop, a miniscule hiss, and the work was done. A bead of sweat was traveling its way down your brow.

Luke was assessing you with a look of satisfaction. “Very good.” You took in your creation.

Interesting and perhaps symbolic, that a piece of your captivity would be used for this. Reclaimed. It had bent itself into creases as if it had been squeezed.

“It’s quite unique. Representative of its owner.” He cast a glance behind you.

Was it? 

“Ignite it.”

The command had you looking at Luke. The nervousness must have been evident in your eyes because he nodded once in encouragement.

You felt around for the activation lever. Felt, because your eyes had squeezed themselves closed. Each heartbeat reverberated through your bones; each breath was too loud. There was no doubt anymore, no fear, and yet a kernel of hesitation still crawled its way into your stomach.

Fuck it. You had what you wanted. This wouldn’t change anything.

The blade hummed to life.

Its searing light burned the backs of your eyelids. 

Luke was silent. 

Oh, stars.

But when you finally gathered the courage to look, what you saw stunned you to silence as well. Parted your lips and somehow forced an exhale from already empty lungs. 

It was white. Pure white, like starlight.

“How is this even possible?”

Skywalker was smiling in a way you hadn’t yet witnessed. “I’ve seen it once before. With a close friend. A great warrior, and a good person.”

Unbelievable.

You swung it experimentally, low and then high, angled perpendicular above your forehead. It was lighter than Din’s and the handling was different. It moved in smooth arcs, cutting through the resistance of air. The crystal within felt sated; it hummed in synchronicity with the blade… contented purrs. You laughed, carefree and airy.

“You’ve been given this to protect and defend. Use it wisely.” You wished there were words to convey your level of gratitude to Luke. As you extinguished the blade, all you could do was thank him and assure him that you would.

A squeak of excitement sounded from the archway behind you. Din was there, a fascinated Grogu in his arms. 

You felt like a child, running into his arms. “Did you see that?” Someone needed to clarify that you weren’t just hallucinating.

He smoothed your brow, the child clawing at the folds of your clothing. “I never doubted you, cyar’ika.”

He hadn’t, had he? Since the beginning, since bringing you aboard the ship, in matters of life or death, even since learning the truth about your past. What a magical thing it was to have someone see all of you, every dark and twisted crevice, every scar you tried so hard to hide away, and still find such beauty in it.

Luke had to clear his throat. “I won’t keep you. But I would like to thank you for gathering up the courage to come here. I know it was not an easy feat.” He surveyed Din. Despite being much shorter, Luke stood with a poise that exuded power. “I know that I’m in no position to ask you for anything, but I will ask that you take good care of them. Such power attracts attention… and danger. I hate to refer to your family as such, but in the eyes of many… they are weapons. It is imperative that they stay protected.”

“I’d sooner fall on my own blade then let anything happen to them.”

Luke’s seemed to share an unspoken thought with Din. “I know.”

Something about the way he said it was unnerving. Because you knew he meant every word.

The place Din had picked was shrouded in darkness by the time the Crest landed. Miles away from the closest tourist spot, it was secluded and quiet. Breathtakingly beautiful.

A sprawling lake sparkled with bright moonlight, stretching far into the distance, where it was lined by tall trees of the lushest green. The ship’s ramp descended just a few metres from the shoreline, soft sand and small pebbles that shifted with the light lapping of the water. Aside from the comforting noises of nature and the small ticks of the cooling Crest, all was quiet.

Grogu had drifted off hours ago and would likely sleep until morning. Din had tucked him in to the pram with gentle movements, smoothing the small bit of hair that was starting to appear on the top of his head. Such tender care. He was a good father. Though he’d likely never admit it.

“You’re staring,” he remarked as he closed the pram lid.

“Am I not allowed to?” You rose from where you leaned against the ladder, saber hilt hitting your thigh. Its weight would take some getting used to. “You get to see me all the time. I have to look at you far longer to read you beneath all the armour. It’s hardly fair.”

He motioned to the open ramp and the world that waited beyond it. “You want to even the playing field?” Din offered you his arm.

The night was clear and the air was warm, alive with a breeze that felt almost like a caress. There was no need for a fire, and so you sat on the sand, bare feet flirting with the fresh water of the lake. Din had removed his helmet, and you had helped him with the armour plates so he could lay back on the sandbank, stretching out, arms beneath his head.

“The stars look different from here,” he mused. You took in his features, bathed in cool light, and the sparkle of constellations in his eyes.

“How so?”

He dragged an arm through the sand and around your waist, pulling you down and into his side. Took your chin between his fingers and tilted it toward the sky. “Look.” 

Colours bled like a watercolour painting across the dark night, the auras of each star so bright that it reminded you fleetingly of the halo of your lightsaber blade. A rippling curtain of turquoise green floated from horizon to horizon, ghostlike in its movements.

“Woah.” You couldn’t help the breathless exclamation, the laugh, and the smile that it left behind. Never before had you seen anything like it. It was stunning. 

Naboo was everything you had hoped it would be. Otherworldly allure. A sanctuary in the midst of a dangerous galaxy. Somewhere the three of you could come to just relax for a moment. Be no one beyond yourselves. No responsibilities, no judgements.  

The wave of heartache was unavoidable. “He would have loved this.” Your father. Who talked of coming here over and over and over. An unreachable dream encased in four walls of dark durasteel. Who talked of wishes and magic and fairy tales of brave knights in impenetrable armour. He had been right about so many things. “I think he would have loved you.”

Din turned his eyes away from the sky, his shaky breath unmissable. “I wish I could have met him.” He pressed a kiss to your hair. “…thanked him for raising such a strong woman… wish I could tell him that I’ll take care of you now.”

Simple words… but a galaxy of meaning.

“I’ll take care of you,” he murmured again. 

Din kissed you, and it felt like a thousand words melded into one moment. Breaths mingled, hand wandered. There was sand in his hair, and probably in yours too. Once you broke away you said just that, brain short-circuiting.

He said it was easy enough to wash out. He wasn’t referring to the fresher.

“You’re kidding.”

“Am I?” His smiled turned to a stupid grin. “Want to go swimming?”

Drunk on him, you agreed. How would he feel in the cool stillness of the water? You wanted to find out. Stars, he was unbuttoning your shirt with talented fingers and your mind was going a pleasant sort of fuzzy. He pushed the sleeves off of your shoulders. Threw your top to the side. Unhooked your saber hilt. Dove into the soft part of your neck. 

“Not sure if your father would have approved of this,” he mumbled into your shoulder and you giggled, giggled, like a little girl. His hands were hot on your bare skin, sliding down to the waistband of your pants. You hadn’t even started on his flight suit yet.

“I do want to go swimming,” you admitted to him. “You’re distracting me.”

He continued his ministrations. “Focus then.”

Fine. His zipper slid down with little resistance. Every time you undressed him it felt so thrilling, erotic. A memory floated back, Omera’s whispered words on Sorgan, like some forbidden secret. 

‘He’s so hot.’

You had found such a sentiment silly at the time, especially in the face of such violent conflict. But even then—just a little, maybe a lot—you had agreed with her. And even more so now. He was.

Din had managed to work your trousers down just as you slid the top of his suit off. He was smiling at you, cheekily before standing, shucking the rest of it off and offering you a hand.

The water was cold. Not enough to change your mind about going in, but certainly enough to elicit a sharp squeal. Din seemed unfazed, wading a distance in before diving under the surface. 

“It’s nice,” he said upon emerging. Appalled, you could only gape at him. “Come on.” He splashed you once and you sent a loathing glare back. One which he only laughed at. “I’ll pull you in…”

“You wouldn’t dare.” You sent a flicker of Force outward, enough to make your eyes glow, just for theatrical effect.

Din smiled, wading up the shore to where you stood, dripping lake water. “I’m not scared of you.” He looked like a god.

When he lunged for you, you let him.

The water felt like sharp, cold silk. You were gasping down gulps of air to overcome the shock and he held you through it, chuckling lightly at your dramaticism. “See?” But after a few short-lived seconds of crisp panic, you began to adjust and found that—temperature aside—he was right. Though the night was dark, the moonlight only just enough to highlight the chiseled angles of Din’s face, you could feel that the water was clear. Fresh and glassy. But you weren’t letting the sudden assault go so easily. You splashed at him playfully and watched the water drip down the muscle of his jaw. The way he looked at you… it might as well have been a kiss.

It was your first time swimming, or at least fully submerged in water that wasn’t a tank. What a marvel, the way it made your body feel so light. You hadn’t even considered to be afraid of the lake, not with Din right beside you. “I’ve never done this before,” you confessed, suddenly giddy.

Din placed a hand under your back, tipping your legs up. “Watch this.” You were falling onto your back in slow motion, the water and Din’s arms supporting you to stay above the surface. As the sky became visible you realized that you were floating… like an idle ship in space. Suspended in midair, water tickling at your sides. You laughed, eyes full of multicoloured stars. Such a wonderful feeling. “They should make bacta tanks like this.”

You didn’t have to look at him to tell that he was smiling. Grinning. Again, that whispered utterance of Mando’a syllables that was becoming increasingly familiar yet still remained a mystery.

Curiosity got the best of you. Without looking him in the eyes, you dared to ask, “What does that mean?”

He didn’t hesitate. “It means beautiful… means you’re beautiful.” 

“Will you teach me?”

“Mando’a, or how to swim?”

“Both?”

“Of course.” He was supporting you lightly by the waist. “How about I teach you one right now.”

You smiled at the night sky. “Okay.”

“Close your eyes. Listen to the way the words sound.” His mouth was by your ear then, and the phrase he uttered sent goosebumps along your skin. 

“It sounds familiar.”

“That’s because I’ve said it to you once before.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means I love you. Literally, it means I will know you forever.” His fingertips tapped along the length of your spine, under the water. He was barely even touching you anymore and yet you were still afloat in serene stillness. 

You tried it out, tongue stumbling over some of the pronunciation. Despite what was probably a butchery of the sentence, Din leaned over your floating figure to press his lips to your forehead.

“I love you.” You righted yourself, moving closer to him. “I love swimming… I love the water.”

“I wanted to fuck you in that pool on Rishi,” he admitted.

Oh. Holy shit.

“I spent way too long in there thinking eventually you’d say ‘to hell with it’ and come and join me.” His hands were frictionless under the surface, sliding up your thighs. “Rishi was torture. Your fucking shirt, your hair…”

You thought back to it, the stifling weather, the meeting with Castann, the way he had fallen so sternly silent afterwards. Ah. “That’s why you were so quiet. In the cantina… you were jealous.” Your words had held a hint of humor, but when he dragged his eyes up to yours there was only dark seriousness there.

You softened. “Oh, Din.” The water rippled as he adjusted his hold on you, bringing your bodies impossibly closer.

“It wasn’t anything that you did, just…” He paused, and you brushed a wet curl back from his face. “…with him, with the Marshall, there’ve been others too… I could never touch you the way they could, I couldn’t connect with you that way. It just frustrated me.”

“That’s not true.” The sparkling glare off the lake lit up his skin, the broadness of his shoulders. “I didn’t need to touch you or kiss you to know how I felt. Maker knows I wanted to, but that wasn’t what did it. It was just you.”

“And if I couldn’t have given you anything more?” There was such vulnerability in his voice. In the question.

You cupped his face, drops of water falling from your wrists to his collarbones. “You’re enough. You’re so much more than enough.” When you kissed him, you could have sworn that a tear mixed with the lake water running down his face.

It was sweet. Sweet and soft and lazy and he smelled like the trees. You felt weightless in the water, cocooned in his arms and the warmth of his body heat. He took his time against your mouth, moving like the soft ripples of the lake before nipping lightly at your bottom lip. Hiking your legs up to wind around his hips.

It felt like fireworks every time he touched you. Like you had dared to move too close to a flame and caught alight. But you would be happy to burn like this. The water didn’t feel cold anymore.

“Can I?”

You nodded. He always asked. As if he expected the answer to suddenly change.

Din unclasped your wet undershirt with deft fingers, throwing it as far as he could onto the sandy shore. Your chest rose and fell against his own, lake water swirling in the space between.

You felt surreal under his palms. Powerful and alive and thrumming with energy. He wanted to make this good, really good. It was something he had discovered with you recently and was still learning to take advantage of. It drove him crazy to make you feel good. He had to see it, to hear your moans, to soak up your praises shamelessly. Stars, it made him hard.

And he was starting to learn what you liked. But there was such opportunity, so many doors he had yet to open. He couldn’t fucking wait. You were kissing along his jawline and he was trying to remember all the things he wanted to try but dank farrik it was difficult especially since he was kind of still staring at the way water trickled down the valley between your bare breasts.

“Stop thinking so hard,” you whispered against his neck. So you could read minds. “Just let go.” Your hands were roaming over his pecs, and he was forgetting which way was up and which way was down because the sky was reflected so perfectly in the water’s surface and all he could feel was you.

He strode up the sandbank, out of the water, the chill of the breeze making you shudder as you clung to him and lay you down on your pile of discarded clothes. Your skin was glistening and on impulse alone he licked up the center of your chest, tasting saltwater and desire. Gasping, you lifted your hips up, searching desperately for some sort of friction. Needy, always.

Din went to pull at your underwear, but the water had stuck them to you like a second skin. Usually he could take his time, but right now… 

He reached for his weapons belt, withdrawing the blade. Watched your eyes widen. Not with fear, though. Shit. He slid the edge under the fabric at your hip and sliced—hearing it come away with a clean rip. You hissed, arching needily toward the blade’s edge.

“Careful,” he chided.

Your eyes had darkened. “I trust you.” Oh, you liked it. You fucking liked it.

“Do you?” He was going to combust. Because as he pressed the flat length of the blade to your neck, you bared it to him. “You know I would never hurt you.”

“Not unless I asked you to?” The innocent tone of the question made his cock twitch. For just a moment, he was robbed of the ability to speak. “Or not unless I begged you to,” you urged him. Buffering, reloading, knife still at your neck. 

“Come on, Mando.”

Mando. You lay your hand over his own, tilting the angle of the blade until its sharpest edge rested over your skin. You were breathing heavy, but he was breathing heavier. You arched further into him, a desperate sound escaping you, and something in him snapped.

He had your hips pinned in an instant, trailing the knife over the rise and fall of your chest and down, down, down, through your breasts, past your navel and back to where your underwear sat, half torn off your body. “This what you want?” He cut the fabric around your other hip and pulled the ruined garment free. You gasped. “I was going to be gentle tonight.” Farrik, he could see the sheen of your arousal and it was making some primal part of him go a little feral. 

Your hands were wandering, grasping aimlessly at him. But a hunter’s instinct had taken over, a strange combination of a need to capture with a desire to please. He had your wrists trapped in one palm, winding the wet material of your panties around them, and tying them off before raising them up above your head. There was a rock to the side of him and he retrieved it, placing it in between your hands, over the knot of your bindings digging into the sand. It would hold if you didn’t strain too hard. He pulled back once the work was done just to look at you, completely bare before him, writhing and completely at his mercy. And stars, he was focused. So hyperaware. On the clench of your trapped fists, the peaks of your nipples, the softness of your skin, the way your scars seemed to glow in the light, the way your thighs clenched together.

“You want me to fuck you, pretty girl?” A broad palm travelled up from your waist to cup your breast. He rolled a nipple between his fingers and watched the way you panted. Would you like it if he put his mouth there?

You did like it. You liked it a lot. 

“Oh. Fuck.” Your moans were music to his ears, and he alternated sides, keen to keep them going.

“I should tie you up like a bounty…” He was blabbering, almost incoherent, drunk off the feel of you. “…let you loose in the forest and hunt you down. Would you like that?” Judging by the mess he found between your legs, he figured the answer was yes. “Lucky for you, I’m not feeling very patient.”

You choked when he slid two fingers inside of you. How fast could he make you come? He was getting awfully good at it. The movements of his hand were sharp, deliberate, the heel of his palm brushing up against your clit with each repetition. You started to tug at your makeshift binding but it held, mercifully. You were getting loud, trying to muffle the pleasured cries in the flesh of your shoulder. Oh, this was fucking addicting.

Sliding his free hand up your torso, he tested a flex of his fingers around your throat and felt you tighten around him in response. “You’re mine.” Tighter. “Only mine.” Faster. You were seconds away, bucking your hips up into his hand, chanting in agreement.

“I’m yours. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.” Din slid his hands free at the last moment. “No.” It felt evil to laugh at your groan of anguish, but he couldn’t help it.

Your hands had come free, but it didn’t matter. He flipped you by your waist to lay on your stomach, arching your hips up and flattening himself over your spine. Reaching down to line himself up and pausing… just long enough for you let out another desperate whine. “Didn’t you say something about begging?”

You pushed your ass back against him and he almost lost it. Almost. But you were just as stubborn, refusing to give him the satisfaction. That wouldn’t do. “Beg me, cyare.”

You caved so easily that it broke his character, made him smile. “Please… Din please.”

“Please what?”

“Please, fuck me. Please.”

“My wife. So polite.” He pushed in, all the way, in one powerful motion, stealing the air from both of your lungs. It’s like you were made for him, greedily taking everything he was willing to give. He was punching sobs out of you with each thrust and your bound hands were grasping for purchase on the beach, handfuls of wet sand. “Never going to get enough of you.”

Din snaked both hands around your body, one up to circle around your neck and one down, past your stomach where he could feel the blunt head of him poking through, all the way to your clit. The vibrations in your throat traveled through his palm as you moaned and cried out, and each circle of his fingers had you clenching down on him, so tight that the pleasure was burning hot.

He had used to fist his own dick thinking of taking you from behind, yet his imagination had done it no justice. Every arch of your spine, every tremble, every kriffing pulse of your cunt had him reeling, desperately trying to keep a hold on the brutal pace he had set. He wanted to mold you to the shape of him, selfishly, so that you fit him—and only him—for the rest of time. Imprint his name down your spine, leave purple marks on your neck that would last for days. This sort of love was brutal, possessive, like a wild animal. Oh, he wanted you to be able to feel the ghost of him between your legs when you walked.

You met him, thrust for thrust, mumbling words between every sharp breath. “Feels… so… fucking… good…” It felt better than good. It was the most blinding sensation he had ever experienced. “So… close… don’t stop.” He could tell. From the way every muscle in you was tensing, from the way you were gripping him. And thank the stars for it because he certainly wasn’t going to last much longer. “Want you to… come inside and… watch it leak out… then… fuck it back… into me.”

Din collapsed, spilling into you with a low groan. It felt never ending, wave after wave after wave and just as he thought he was coming down, you clamped down on him like a vise, whimpering and shuddering through your own orgasm and only prolonging his own. It was all he could do to prop his weight up and keep from crushing you.

For a long moment, the only sound was lapping water and the uneven heaves of breath as you both fought to recover. He released your neck, watched your head slump forward, trailed a palm over the dips in your back. Did as you asked, leaned back and watched pearls of his own come drip into the sand. With two fingers he swiped up the excess and pushed it back into you, soaking up your weakened whimper like music.

“You okay?” Because he had been hard, unforgiving. If he had hurt you…

“Am I oka—” You huffed an exhausted laugh. Din flipped you over onto your back and drank in the disarray of your hair, the softness of your eyes, the satisfied smile. “That was… wow.” You lifted your hands to him, bashfully. “Can you untie me?”

It was his turn to laugh as he reached for the panties around your wrists, still damp and now coated with sand. You were watching him as he worked, eyes trailing from his face down his chest and stomach, lower. He stared back and you looked away sharply, as if you had been caught doing something you shouldn’t. Adorable.

“Don’t get shy on me.” The knot on your wrists came free.

“M’not.”

He leaned down to whisper at your ear. “Especially not after you told me to fuck my c—”

“Okay!” You slapped him playfully on the chest. He liked to tease you, if only to see you flustered and melting. Din was suddenly overcome by the urge to hold you. And in doing so, was struck dumb just by the fact that he could.

Under the stars, in the sand, between a copse of trees and the expanse of lake, you curled into each other.

“I might fall asleep,” you warned.

He traced the vertebrae of your spine with a fingertip. “I can carry you.”

“Kay.” When your lips met his shoulder, he smiled. “Do you think Grogu will want to swim? Tomorrow?”

The idea was laughable. “He’d probably much prefer to terrorize the tadpoles.”

“Poor things.”

You stayed along that lake for 5 days, adventuring and playing with the kid during the day and fucking like wild creatures at night. One evening, skin still slick with sweat from riding him for what had felt like hours, you asked what he wanted to do next. Never before had the galaxy felt so open, so full of possibility. And never before had you had someone to explore it with. A family.

“We need to visit the covert. Thank the Armourer and…” Din trailed off.

“You want to go back to Mandalore.” He had spoken of a plan to redeem himself, to rediscover the mines below his people’s home world. You refrained from recalling what the Imp had said, he did too. But the curiosity, the need to know, it was palpable. 

His fingers threaded through your hair. “Only if you’re okay with it.”

“Of course. I know it’s important to you and I want to help. In any way that I can.” 

Din struggled to ask you for help, or for favours, and that was something that only got slightly better over time. But you were by his side anyways, as he wielded the darksaber as a symbol, united long-estranged factions of Mandalorians, and eventually retook the planet.

It hadn’t been easy; in fact, it had been terrifying. Moments when you had been separated were torturous, so much more frightening because now you knew the depth of what you stood to lose. But against all odds, and yet another run-in with the Empire, you and Din and Grogu had mercifully made it out unscathed. 

Victorious and now hidden away on a small parcel of land just outside of Nevarro City, a generous gift from Greef Karga. Or rather, a piece offering after Din threatened to kill him for sending you into the jaws of your captor. He had claimed to have no knowledge of the supposed ‘buyer’ and you believed him. But Din had not been so quick to forgive.

The Clan Mudhorn cabin was a quaint place, small, but somehow the perfect size for your peculiar little family. There were frogs for Grogu to play with, and the sun rose and set every day. And thank the maker, there was finally a proper bed. Just the one, but the three of you had made it work. A hammock had been fashioned just beside the kitchen for Grogu to sleep in, though more often than not, you would wake to find him snoozing happily between you and Din. On those nights, neither of you would have the heart to move him back.

It was so easy to fall into domesticity with them; to hide away the weapons for a time and just be. But the past was not so easily forgotten. And the future was imminent.

You woke from the dream with a choking sob, hand covering your mouth on instinct to keep from waking them. But it was too late. Din brushed a lock of hair back from your face, brown eyes concerned. “I thought they were getting better.” You hadn’t found your voice just yet. “It’s okay, take deep breaths.” He breathed with you until the muscles in your body slowly started to release. “That’s it. Good girl.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Shh. Don’t apologize.” Having his arms around you was easing the lingering panic better than any medicine. “You want to talk about it? One of the usuals?”

The usuals referred to dreams of captivity, of your father’s death, of the buried traumatic memories associated with your upbringing. But this… this had been different. It came trickling back in bits and pieces.

“No, I… I saw Skywalker. But he was older, much older.” How strange. “His hair was turning grey. There was a boy, young, with raven black hair.” Din was rubbing comforting circles on your curved spine. “I don’t understand, it was all just disjointed images.” But you knew what had roused you from the dream with such urgency. 

The master needs an apprentice.

Din knew better than to discount your visons. Even so, part of you wished he would. Wished he would tell you it was just a dream and to go back to sleep.

“You’re safe. We’re here.” As if he sensed himself being referred to, Grogu’s green claws fought their way up the bedspread. “We can stay up if—”

“No, no, it’s alright. It’s probably nothing.” Din’s eyes looked sad. “Just… can you… hold me?”

“Come here.” He pulled you down and tucked your head under his chin, arms winding securely around your back. The child managed to wriggle his way under Din’s elbow, collapsing with a satisfied sight between your chests. You kissed him on the head.

An ex-Sith, a Mandalorian, and a very small, basically Jedi. The stars must have a sense of humour. But perhaps they were also merciful. You clung to that hope, almost as hard as you clung to Din, Grogu sandwiched between the two of you.

The galaxy was loud, but Nevarro was quiet. People were suffering but now, for this fleeting moment you could be ignorantly happy. 

In your secluded constellation, safe from the rest of the supernovas, you could breathe and succumb once more to a peaceful slumber. If only for just a while longer.

THE END

thank you for reading ❤️‍🩹

Taglist: @that-girl-named-alex @aavengingbucky @prismaticpizza @blub-senpai @a-phan-of-youtube @jaguarthecat @lizajane3 @come-hell-or-eldren-fire @graciexmarvel @soobinsrose @simply-maggie @alwaysdjarin @minky77 @tinytinturtle @tae27 @groguspicklejar @slightlyuglierbeyonce-blog @willow-t @abbyhaslongshorts @andrewshotspot @racetrackheart @leithatnight @messageinadaisy @lostinsideourminds @wren-2-d @goth-cowgir1 @aphterthoughtt @sleeplessskeleton @teawrites01 @dashlilymark @imherefordeanandbones @sunshine96 @kalea-bane @http-onie @focusedarrow @tremendum @leeeesahhh @candylovesans-officialaskblog @babeincolor @tanzthompson @lazyassmermaid @tragerlover @softlymellow @sasakipsposts @ladymando33 @icee228 @littlelyingdelilahsblog @djarin-dreams

I added some tags that slipped through the cracks too (totally my bad)

#din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian #sw the mandalorian #din djarin #sw fanfic #the mandalorian series #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #my fic #jreadswrites #unexpected constellations

[dreaming-medium]

Animals Without Direction

Chapter Nineteen - Dance Lessons

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Masterlist

Your entrance to the throne room is entirely different today than it was yesterday. This time you’re walking in on your own two feet; albeit a tad bit painfully. But, it gets better by the minute.

Seungmin walked next to you. Both of you kept up light conversation on your way in. He asked questions about the front lines, everyone’s wellbeing.

It surprised you how many questions he asked about Jeongin; you had no idea how close the two were.

As per usual, Chan and Minho were at the back of the throne room. Both of them are talking about the war and different things they had planned.

When you limped into their view, they stopped talking. Chan stood up from his throne quickly.

“Y/N!” he exclaims. “What are you doing out of bed? You need to be resting.”

You scoff and roll your eyes with a smirk. “Attempting to keep me in bed would be the same as it would with you, my lord.”

Minho smirks and chuckles lightly, his hands clasped behind his back.

“She is correct about that one,” Seungmin mutters under his breath.

Chan sucks his teeth and meets you halfway across the room. His hands hover all along your body, trying to place them somewhere. He wants so badly to help you, hold your arm to help you walk, check the bandage underneath your pants to see if it needs to be changed.

But instead, he settles for grabbing your shoulder lightly.

“How are you doing today?” he asks gently.

“Fine, my lord.” You look down at your leg. “It is a little sore, but nothing I cannot handle. I have felt worse.”

Chan clicks his tongue. “Your Elven blood works fast.”

Hearing him say that still sends a chill through your body. The rebuttal sits on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow it. For the first time in your life, you just let a comment like that roll off your back.

“Thanks to Felix, it is only a typical stab wound.”

The grip on your shoulder tightens a bit. A cocktail of emotions fly over Chan’s face, you’re not able to read all of them. His facial muscles twitch so much with each one.

You clear your throat and look down at the floor.

“Any news of the front lines?”

Chan releases your shoulder reluctantly, his hand dropping at his sides. He shakes his head once before turning to walk back up to his throne.

Minho is the one that speaks up. “Aye, our armies successfully captured Fort Burnside.”

You and Seungmin walk up towards the throne together. 

Yes, you’re thrilled that Miroh has claimed another victory. But, why does it feel so bittersweet? What are you all missing?

“Why do you seem so upset by that?” Minho asks you.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by you that his question seems genuine. There’s no venom or passive aggressiveness to it. 

“Forgive me if I do not seem as mirthful as I should be given the victory.” You pause, looking down at the floor. “It is just… This all seems too easy.”

When you look back up at Minho and Chan, they’re both listening intently to your words.

“I began to grow suspicious after the victory at Bonereach Blockade. It was not until my journey home with Jisung that I realized we have not seen a single soldier from the Mercy Division.”

Chan’s eyes widen and he sits back in his throne.

“I believe Erbus is plotting something. They are lying in wait until our guard is down.”

Seungmin shifts next to you. “Is the Mercy Division the ones who–”

“Yes.” Chan cuts him off. “Yes, they are.”

Chan moves around on his throne and rests both of his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in between.

“Not a single one has been at these battles?”

“Nay, not that I have seen, my lord.”

He nods a few times, looking around the room in thought. Minho watches the side of his face carefully for any reaction. He’s probably able to read him like a book at this point.

“It seems you are not alone in your suspicions, Minho,” he speaks to his advisor without looking at him.

Chan’s eyes shift to Seungmin. “Do you think that Inuin’s ambassador will have any correspondence about this?”

“Hard to be certain, but most likely. If Inuin is planning any sort of alliance with Erbus, this is how we will find out.”

The Jarl’s eyes flicker to your face for a moment before he looks back at Seungmin. His head cocks to the side a bit in a nervous twitch.

“I just do not believe that–”

“Chan, it is the only way, and you know it.” Seungmin interrupts him.

“She only just got back.”

This grabs your attention right away.

Chan continues, “The circumstances have changed due to the injury. I strongly believe that she should not carry out this mission with you.”

Once again, do they not realize you’re right there? You’re having flashbacks to your first visit to the throne room.

With one eyebrow cocked up, you raise your hand a bit and grab all three men’s attention. “Hello? I am right here?”

Chan shifts around once more. His nerves are making him too fidgety to stay still in one place for too long.

“Apologies, Y/N.” he says quickly. “I am simply… apprehensive about the mission that we had called you back to Miroh for given your current state.”

“I spent a better part of the day informing our Jarl that nothing will keep you here, injured or not.” Seungmin doesn’t look at you when he says this, he keeps eye contact with Chan.

You roll your eyes. “I can speak on my own behalf.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you look off to the side. “I would also very much appreciate it if I was told what this mission was. You have been alluding to it since before my departure a month ago.”

Seungmin and Chan stare at each other for a few more moments. If looks could kill there would be a double homicide in the room.

Neither of them answer you. 

Minho scoffs and grabs your attention. “You know of Inuin’s ambassador’s masquerade ball, correct?”

“Aye.”

“You are to attend the ball with our rogue and assist in pickpocketing the key off of the ambassador so that Seungmin can sneak up to his office and steal whatever correspondence he can find.” 

You raise an eyebrow and eye Minho suspiciously. “And how am I supposed to do this? I am no thief.”

“Nay, but you are a woman with a high appeal.”

The compliment goes right to your head and your heart stutters in your chest. Your cheeks suddenly grow hot and you can’t keep Minho’s gaze. 

Foot to foot, you shift your weight and clear your throat. 

“And?” you ask, voice a bit strained from the embarrassment of receiving a direct complement.

“ And , a man can become quite distracted when dancing with a beautiful woman.”

Your jaw drops a bit and you look at him with wide eyes. Then you look over at Chan, who has since broken his venomous focus with his rogue.

He rubs his hands together nervously, tongue coming out to lick his lips. “You can refuse.”

“It is the only way we can get those papers, Chan!” Seungmin’s voice is the loudest you’ve ever heard it. 

This man has never raised his voice once in your presence. Your head snaps over to look at him; his lip is pulled in a sneer and his eyebrows furrowed.

“I worked for weeks to get an invitation to this ball! Y/N says she is fine, the masquerade is not for another week, giving us plenty of time for preparation and travel.” His arms move about wildly to emphasize his point. “We will not get another chance like this one to get ahead on anything!”

Chan’s head twitches to the side and he sucks his teeth. His fingers pick at the skin on one of his hands.

“This war is bigger than you, Bang Chan. It’s bigger than anything. And you are apprehensive over something meaningless.”

Angrier and angrier, Chan’s expression pulls. Nevertheless, Seungmin keeps going. “It is only dancing! Do not sacrifice a military advantage simple because you harbor–”

“Enough!” Chan snaps suddenly. His voice booms out through the stone room.

Your entire body reacts; you physically flinch away from his bellow. Your shoulders come up by your ears and slump forward. 

Chan clenches his jaw so tight you see the muscles move around on the side of his face. The veins in his neck pop a bit. Seungmin remains still and silent.

A few silent moments pass. 

The Jarl looks down at his hands, collecting his thoughts. A long, heavy exhale leaves his nose before he looks up right at you.

His expression is still unreadable. But his eyebrows twitch like they want to pull together in pain. 

“Y/N,” he addresses you thickly. His throat bobs.

“Yes, my lord?” you reply weakly.

“ If you choose to complete this quest, you would be taught the ceremonial Dove Waltz. It is a tradition at formal Inuin events. During the dance, every man dances with every woman twice. You would need to successfully pickpocket the ambassador during one of these turns with him.”

A dance? You would need to learn a dance and pickpocket skills? In a week ?

Licking his lips again, Chan punches one of his hands into another while leaning back on his throne. His eyes leave yours for a moment as he looks around the room, then back to you.

“But it is entirely up to you and how you feel.” His eyes glance down at your leg quickly.

A soft ‘huh’ leaves your lips in disbelief. Tonguing your cheek, you fidget with your shirt sleeve for a moment. Then, you crack each knuckle on both hands.

“How simple is the dance?” you ask first.

“Extremely. Children learn it.” Seungmin answers immediately.

“And how easy is pickpocketing?”

Seungmin snorts. “Extremely. Children learn it.”

You can’t help but laugh and shake your head in disbelief. Glancing up at Seungmin, you raise an eyebrow at him.

“And would you be teaching me to dance?”

Before he can respond, another voice calls your attention.

“Nay,” Minho smirks. “That would be me.”

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

“I did not even know that the Keep had a ballroom.” you say looking around the vast space. The ceilings are high and several chandeliers line it. Beautiful paintings cover the wall, it's a shame that they’re covered in a thick layer of dust.

“We do not typically use it,” Minho answers you.

When you had passed by in the past, you just thought it was a dusty, unused room in the back of the Keep. 

“When was the last time Miroh hosted a ball?”

Minho thinks for a moment, “I was a youngling when the last event was here.”

The door to the ballroom closes behind the two of you. 

A large fireplace was lit in the wall, different scones along the stone were alight with flames of their own. The light gleamed off of the cobwebs collecting in the corner.

“Why did we need to come in here?” you ask, glancing around the dank room.

Minho left your side and walked over to an apparatus that sat on the wall. It was about chest height and covered in a dusty, white sheet. 

“Miroh only owns one of these,” he grabs the sheet and pulls it off the instrument carefully. 

It looked like a cabinet with a horn on top. The brass curled around and got wider as the opening of the horn got bigger. A large crank sat on the side of the main body of the thing. 

“What is that?” you ask, eyeing it from a distance.

Minho behind winding the crank over and over again. Several clicks are heard inside the cabinet. While he’s cranking it, he fiddles with something on top.

He continues to ignore your question while he cranks the contraption.

You take a few steps closer to him, watching closely.

Minho stops cranking it and once he lets go, music begins to flow out of the horn opening. It sounds tinny and farther away than any live music you’ve ever heard. Your eyebrows furrowed together and you cock your head to the side.

“I am guessing the mercenary has never seen a crank music player.”

“Nay.”

Minho only smirks and steps closer to you. 

The music begins to play. It’s a slower waltz tempo, the music sounds smooth, each note flows into the next.

“Now, as Seungmin stated earlier, this dance is rather simple– children learn it.” He stops right in front of you, his head tilted down to look into your eyes. “We only have a week for you to learn it.”

“Do you believe it will take me a week to learn a mere waltz?” 

“Nay, I think it will take you a week to be able to pickpocket me while dancing this waltz.” His eyes scan you up and down. “Now, arms up.”

Both of Minho’s hands grasp at your own. He keeps your right one outstretched to the side and places your left on his shoulder.

Both of you maintain eye contact, something glints in his eye and you can’t quite put your finger on what it is.

“The steps are simple, Y/N.” His voice dips down to a lower register. The hand in yours tightens and grips you snugly. His other hand goes down and rests on your waist. “The man always leads, which means he steps forward first, you will step back. Left foot.”

Minho steps his left foot towards you and leads your body backwards, you step back with your back.

“Now, to the side.” He shifts both your bodies to the side. “Shift your weight a bit, now you step forward and to the side. It’s just a simple box that you’re stepping in.”

Your steps are a bit choppy, but you still do the steps nonetheless.

“Perfect, now we do this over and over while going in a giant circle for a bit.”

Without stopping, Minho leads you over and over again through the grand room. The music playing loudly from the player against the wall. 

After a few steps, you look down at the floor at your two clumsy feet. Minho quickly lets go of your waist to grip your chin.

“Eyes on me, mercenary.” he says lowly. Your jaw clenches and you keep his eye contact.

His hand returns to your waist. In a fluid movement, while he’s stepping forward, he pulls your body flush against yours.

Chest to chest, hip to hip, the two of you twirl around the ballroom. 

His lips are pressed into a line, that mysterious light in his eyes doesn’t leave. It only amplifies in the candle light.

Minho smells of a clean musk; like pine and bergamot. 

Since your return to Miroh yesterday, he hasn’t looked at you with venom or hatred once. What changed?

“This is not so bad,” you whisper, holding his searing eye contact. 

“This is only the main step of the dance.” Minho smirks and squeezes your hand once. “Are you ready for the next?”

You roll your eyes, “Aye.”

He stops in place.

“After four box steps, the man will twirl you out.” Minho’s hands move and he pushes your waist to encourage you to spin out. “And then he will bring you back in.”

When you spin back in, he does not come chest to chest with you, no. Minho’s entire front is pressed against your back. 

His breath is hot against your neck.

“Hold your arms like this,” he whispers in your ear. A shiver tears up your spine. 

Minho grabs your wrists and crosses your arms over your chest and has your palms facing out to both sides. His own arms wrap around your body to hold his hands like yours are against two mirrors. 

“Lean to the side,” Minho’s voice has a slight rasp to it as he’s murmuring into your ear. He pushes you slightly to the left, while he leans to the right. 

His face is right next to yours, your noses almost brushing together. 

You can’t look into his eyes, you can only stare at his perfectly plush lips. They’re slightly wet, he must’ve just licked them. They part for a split second and you can feel the shaky exhale come out of his lips and fan over yours.

“Come back to center,” he whispers and both your bodies return back to the position they were in. 

Minho grabs your right wrist, “Bring this arm up and around like this.” He brings your arm up and around the back of your head to stretch out to the right again. “Turn to me.”

Your bodies turn and meet again in the waltz hold. This time, Minho holds you even closer than before. 

“Got it?” he whispers to you, eyes searching yours. All you’re able to do at the moment is nod.

Your stomach is doing flips from his warm grasp, from the way his entire body is pressed flush against yours. All you can think about is Minho.

“One last step before you change partners.”

Minho’s hand wraps tighter around your lower back. 

“Dip back,” he hushed.

You lean back slowly, his hand remains strong and firm on your back. HIs body follows yours a bit as you bend backwards. Your chin falls back to expose your neck even more.

The hand you have up his bicep tenses.

Minho’s grip on your hand tightens even more and due to your sensitive hearing, you can hear him take a deep breath and then gulp.

When he exhales, it fans out along your neck. Goosebumps raise all along your arms.

He holds you in this dip for much longer than you think is necessary. Minho’s entire body is hovering over yours, his strong arms keeping you up as you bend backwards in the most graceful way you can imagine. 

“Then, you’ll come back up.” His voice is thicker.

Slowly, as if not to jar you, he brings your body back up to his. Once more, you’re chest to chest, nose to nose.

His hand doesn’t return to your waist, it stays on your lower back, fingers splayed out to keep you as close as possible. 

Your breathing intermingles. His scent surrounds you with his arms.

It was the closest you’ve been to Minho without a snarky word or dirty look thrown from one person to the other. 

The fabric of his thin tunic feels soft under your fingertips.

You’re unable to meet his eyes once more, you’re looking down at the collar of his shirt. 

Minho’s nose bumps into yours lightly and your breath hitches.

His lips are so warm you can practically feel them on yours. 

He gulps.

The music continues to play.

The hand in yours twitches.

His heart slams against his ribcage just like yours.

“Then what?” you murmur. Minho hesitates.

“Then,” he rasps, “you twirl away to the next partner.” A pause. “And the dance starts all over again.”

He makes no move to step away from you. The grip he has on your entire body is unwavering, if anything, it’s tighter. 

The music swirls in the air. 

“Y/N,” he whispers. His lips barely move when he says it. 

You look up at him.

His skin is so flawless in the dim candlelight. There’s a pink tinge to his cheeks that stretches all the way to his ears. His eyebrows are pulled together like he’s in deep thought, lips are pursed.

Minho clenches his jaw and licks his lips. He opens his mouth to say something and immediately closes it again. 

“Yes, Minho?” you ask quietly. 

His face twists a bit more, his eyes dart down to your lips and then back up to your eyes. His hand in yours feels a bit clammy.

“Y/N, I–”

The door opening behind you causes Minho to jump away from you a bit.

“How is it going in here?” Seungmin calls across the room.

“We only just finished going over each of the steps.” Minho answers, clearing his throat.

“Am I able to see it?”

“Aye, you’ll be one of her partners after all.” There’s a distinct tone change when Minho responds to Seungmin. If you didn’t know any better, you would say that Minho was jealous– again.

Minho reluctantly breaks away from you and struts over to the music box.

Seungmin stands along the outer edge of the dancefloor. “I will be ready to take your place as your next partner, my fair lady.” he says with a mock bow.

You scoff and roll your eyes. Your heart is still racing from your intimate moment with Minho.

The advisor cranks the music box again and resets the top of the music. He stalks back over to you. 

“Now, let us try the whole thing from the top.”

Minho nods his head in time with the music a few more times. You feel him go to take his first step forward, so you step back and to the side, like you practiced. He leads the two of you around the floor, completing four waltz box steps.

He twirls you out, then back in.

Your hands press together, your bodies lean to the side. When you look over at him, it takes so much willpower to stare into his eyes and not down at his lips.

With your bodies returning to center, you turn out and come back to the waltz position. Minho’s hand slides around and he dips you back.

The dip is quicker this time. But, you don’t miss the cool blow of air he pushes out over your exposed neck.

When he brings you back up, he assists you with spinning to the side and you’re stopped by Seungmin taking a hold of your body in the same way that Minho had.

His grasp feels different.

No less pleasant by any means. Just different.

His warm chocolate eyes stare down at you with a proud look to them.

“Excellent!” he praises you and you flush. “Now, you just need to be able to pickpocket the ambassador while you do so.”

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #i.n x reader #stray kids fantasy au #skz fantasy au #animals without direction

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Fireleaf (Part Twenty-Three)

Oh, @greeneyedivy and I are SO not ready for this 😭😭😭. The LAST PART. It has been such a pleasure having you readers come along this journey with us. Right from the very first conversations Ivy and I had, when Fireleaf was just a little idea, we knew it was going to be something special. We've enjoyed every second of working on this story, and we thank you all so, so much for the comments, the likes, the reblogs, the asks. We appreciate you and love you all, and we hope you enjoy this final chapter!

And Ivy, my love, my soulmate, my moon and stars, my braincells, I thank you for writing this with me, for sharing your brilliant brain and ideas and coming together with me to write the Lucien fic we so badly wanted in our lives. I love you wildly 💋.

Warnings: None.

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Dion and Willow were officially, finally, mated.

Their bond, your sister had told you in an excited letter sent to Dayview Cottage, had snapped into place when they, too, had decided to take a vacation. 

And though you and Lucien had taken an entire, much-needed month to just be together, you were looking forward to seeing everyone. To celebrating. To see what the new era of the Autumn Court was like.

“Hold still.” You murmured to Lucien, your faces inches apart. He’d watched your reflection in the mirror applying gold shimmer to your face, and had decided that he wanted to match.

“I couldn’t get any more still if I tried.” Your mate snorted back.

“You’re a fidget.” You dabbed at his cheeks, the gold absolutely resplendent against the tone of his skin. You leaned in to plant a quick kiss to his lips. “But a very pretty one.”

You couldn’t be more excited for Dion and Willow’s mating ceremony. A night of eating and drinking and dancing and just enjoying that the worst was behind you all. And after that, you were ready — ready to throw yourself into whatever the future held.

With both you and Lucien dressed up to the nines, the two of you stepped back to survey yourselves, side-by-side in the mirror. Your dress was of the same burgundy shade as the tailored jacket he wore. You’d both left your hair flowing down around your shoulders, little flowers pinned within — which Lucien had also insisted on joining in with. And with the shimmering gold on your faces, the sunlight streaming through the window, the love that radiated off of you both…

“We look…” you blinked, lost for words.

“Like a king and queen.” Lucien finished with a smile. “Or a High Lord and High Lady. Perhaps we should start our own court.”

You snorted. “A court of chaos.”

“A court of flowers and gold.”

You reached out, touching that gold that lined his cheeks, his outer eyes. “A court of poems and sonnets.”

And those russet eyes…emotion filled them. Love. Happiness.

“A court of always and forever.” He grabbed your hand. “Come, my queen. We have a ceremony to attend.”

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They’d opted for an evening ceremony, when the colours of the court were at their greatest. It was as though the day’s sunlight had lent its vibrancy to the various shades of autumn, painting a landscape that was simply breathtaking.

Almost as breathtaking as Willow in her gown. 

Ivory and jewelled, every drop of light seemed coaxed towards her. And she — she was glowing. As was Dion.

They made an utterly stunning couple, and that feeling of rightness that radiated from them, their love…you knew that you and Lucien must give off the same feeling. And proudly so. 

The ceremony felt intimate, despite the many people who had gathered to attend. The temple in which it was held was bathed in the buttery evening light, shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows and seeming to cast a spotlight on Dion and Willow, and the priestess who had been selected to swear them officially mated. And gathered on the seats to watch the ceremony — your family.

Not the one you’d been born into. There was no sign of your mother or your other sisters, and it didn’t bother you one bit. Everyone you cared for was there, in that room. Eris and Linden. Catrin and Helion. Members of the Vanserra household’s staff that you were all equally fond of. And to tie it all up — you finally had the pleasure of meeting the other two Vanserra brothers, Lux and Hale.

It said a lot that they hadn’t rushed back upon Beron’s death, but were here for the ceremony, wives and children in tow. It was a relief that your introductions hadn’t given off any negative feelings, not made any alarm bells ring. It seemed that Lux and Hale were another two decent Vanserras. And had absolutely no qualms about the fact that Beron had been killed, and by Eris, no less.

And so, Dion and Willow swore their eternal love and loyalty to each other, their hands joined as the priestess announced them Cauldron-blessed. And with a chorus of applause and well-wishes echoing through the temple as they sealed their vows with a kiss, you weren’t surprised to find your eyes tearing up.

Such a journey you’d all been on. So much you’d all had to withstand. And yet here you were — you with your love, and your sister with hers.

Beron Vanserra had tried to break you. Had tried to destroy what you’d dared to dream of having. And now you had it — the happy ending. You all did. And he would never again be around to ruin it. 

You caught both Dion and Willow in a tight embrace, barely able to congratulate them around the lump in your throat. But when Lucien wrapped his arms around the three of you…when the four of you squeezed each other and truly stepped back to look at what you’d lived to experience—

You’d never felt happiness like it.

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The true celebration began when the sun had set, and everyone had sat down for the feast. 

The air held nothing but a sting of pure elation as you ate and drank and talked, the various voices of your loved ones all mingling together to create the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. There was nobody in that room that didn’t deserve to be there — that didn’t belong. And as you sat at a table with your mate and his brothers, getting to know Lux and Hale and their wives, their children running around excitedly whilst you talked, your sense of family only strengthened. 

This was home. This was love. 

Soon, the food was gone, making way for the best part of the evening — the music and the dancing. A live band of minstrels played fast, excited music amongst the beauty of the gardens, and it wasn’t long before most were gathered on the grass, their clothes a flurried flash of colour as they spun and danced and cheered, the flames of lit pyres casting such brilliant, intimate light. Every song was better than the last, every dance more freeing.

It was in the gardens that you found Linden — leaning against a wall, a wine glass in his hand as he watched the dancing. 

Or rather — you realised, as you followed his line of sight — as he watched Eris dancing.

You sidled up to your friend, easing his chalice from his hand and finishing the drink off in one huge gulp. He gaped at you in comical outrage, reaching out to gently pinch your arm.

“Asshole.” He admonished playfully. “I was drinking that.”

Your eyebrows flicked up. “Were you? It seems to be that the wine went warm while you were busy ogling the High Lord.”

Linden scowled. “I wasn’t ogling, I was just…”

“Ogling.”

The two of you stared at each other, a beat passing—

And then threw your heads back in laughter at the same. Linden pulled you into his side, draping his arm around your shoulder.

“Okay. Perhaps I was ogling a little. He’s a very pretty High Lord.” A smirk played on his lips. “Where is your lover boy?”

“Right now?” Your eyes flicked around the huge gardens, looking for any sign of where Lucien had got to. “I believe he’s happily being chased by a group of children. I don’t have the heart to break it up.”

You felt the chuckle that rumbled through Linden as he continued to hold you against him. And you contentedly sunk into the embrace, savouring his warmth, his scent.

You’d lost so much time with him when he’d been sent away. Never again would you lose that contact.

It was as though he’d read your thoughts as he pulled back, angling himself to study you. And despite the comfort and ease you’d always felt with him, in that moment, you felt strangely…self-conscious, under the intensity of his gaze.

“…What?” You asked, running a hand over the tight, hugging fabric of your dress.

“You’ve been through so much.” Linden murmured, rare emotion sparking in his eyes that instantly replaced the humour. “So much in that time I was away. All those years I spent training you…strengthening you…I never could have imagined what you’d have to eventually face. What you’d have to use that strength for.”

Pink dusted your cheeks as you dipped your head. “You taught me well. It was the strength that you gave me…thoughts of you…that got me through it. I never forgot what you said when you gave me that braid.”

He smiled — though it soon dropped. “I’m just—sorry, Y/N. That I didn’t come sooner. That I—”

“Enough of that.” Your hand flew up to cup over his mouth, halting his words in their tracks. “We were both victims of circumstance. Of my father’s schemes. But looking back on it now, I think…I think I needed to face it on my own. To learn what strength I truly had.”

Your dear, closest friend stared at you, the regret in his eyes eddying and shifting into warmth. Softness. Pride.

“I firmly believe,” you said, removing your hand from his mouth, “that everything happened exactly the way it needed to. Even the painful, lonely parts. The parts when I wasn’t sure I could get through it. I think…I think I had to face those things to get where I am now, Linden. And I couldn’t be happier—”

Your words cut off with a whoosh of air escaping you as he yanked you closer to him, wrapping his broad, muscled arms around you and squeezing you tight. His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, and he pressed your face against his chest. Pressed a kiss to your hair.

“I am so fucking proud of you.” He said quietly — just loud enough for only you to hear over the music. “So proud. You are brave, Y/N, and you are strong. And I cannot think of anyone more worthy of this happy ending.”

Tears warmed your eyes, and you pulled back to look at him, your arms still wrapped around him. “And what of you? What’s your happy ending?”

You didn’t think he was even aware that his gaze immediately made its way over to Eris, still dancing and showing no signs of stopping. Linden seemed to consider your words for a moment, his head cocked slightly.

“I’m not at all sure.” He admitted softly. “The future is always uncertain, no? But…but for now, I have a reason to stay here. And I feel excited to explore that.”

You could already see it — Eris, High Lord of the Autumn Court, and Linden at his side. The two made a stunning pair. And perhaps Eris was the home that Linden had spent over two centuries searching for.

At the mere thought of it, you almost succumbed to your emotions again — until a burst of excited giggles sounded nearby, and both you and Linden looked up to watch Lucien happily zipping through the hedges, his nephews and nieces hot on his trail.

Linden chuckled, loosening his hold on you slightly. “What’s next for the two of you, then? Children?”

You blinked. “Cauldron, no. I’d like…I’d like to live first. To just…be with my mate. And to see what the world is like when I’m not watching it through the bars of a golden cage.”

His smile was so utterly brilliant as he placed a kiss on your forehead. “I can’t wait to see what you do with the world.”

Before you could think of a reply, Eris was suddenly flouncing over to you, his cheeks flushed and his hair tousled. He met Linden’s eyes briefly, sharing a heated smile that was too intimate for your eyes, before he turned to you. 

“Care to dance with me, sister?” He held out a hand.

Your heart immediately warmed — not just at that word, but…but at the memory. All that time ago, now, at the Harvest Festival, when Eris had asked you the same then, too. 

Neither of you had known, at that time, the bond that would be built between you. 

One that you knew you would never, ever let go of.

It was with a great, unguarded smile that you placed your hand in his and squeezed.

“It would be my pleasure.” 

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You didn’t know how long you and Eris spent dancing, your feet eventually beginning to ache and the heat of the nearby pyres causing sweat to roll down your neck and back. But eventually, the fast-paced music slowed into something gentler, and you smiled as the two of you followed its lead, falling into a more languid dance that offered you the space to talk as you moved around the other dancing bodies.

“You look beautiful.” Eris told you earnestly, fond eyes flicking over you. “I hope my brother told you that.”

You laughed softly. “He tells me multiple times a day.”

“Ah — you’ve trained him well.”

The two of you shared a grin, yours shifting into a softer smile as you stared back at him. “You look beautiful, too.”

Indeed, he looked every bit the honourable High Lord he’d always been. A tailored suit of the deepest red and gold brocade, a crown of twining autumn leaves atop his head, and the strength and pride that shone in his amber eyes—

Magnificent. Eris Vanserra — your High Lord, your friend, your brother — was truly magnificent.

“And how is it?” You squeezed his hand. “Being the most important person in the entire court, and all.”

He snorted. “It’s a fucking chore. I’ve never drowned in so much paperwork. I’ve almost lost my voice multiple times, from the sheer amount of people I have to talk to. Sometimes, I’m so tired that I fall asleep sitting up — eating dinner.” He paused, his eyes glancing over your head…to Linden. “But I find that I’m actually enjoying it. Perhaps because of who I get to do it with.”

Something squeezed tightly in your heart. The realisation, perhaps, that things couldn’t have turned out more perfectly for your close unit than it had.

There had been pain. Tragedies. A senseless loss of three innocent lives.

But together, you would all live for them. Together, you would make your court into something everyone could be proud of.

Eris suddenly pinched your side, and you raised an eyebrow. “And what of you?” He asked.

“What of me?” You shot back.

“How is it being a wife?”

Your feet stuttered in their movements, causing you to stumble so clumsily that Eris had to right your stance. You blinked up at him to find him smirking at you, mischief shining in his eyes.

“You little shit, how did you know?” You asked.

You’d deliberately kept the news a secret and surprise, not wanting to steal the thunder of Dion and Willow’s ceremony. 

But it had been that same night that you’d officially accepted your mating bond that Lucien had gazed at you, his fingers rubbing soothing circles into your skin — and asked you to marry him.

And you, of course, had accepted. 

You didn’t want a big ceremony. Not after all the planning you’d had to sit through for your wedding with Dion. The thought of months of planning a big event, just for the satisfaction of those you’d have to invite, made you recoil.

You just…wanted to be Lucien’s mate. And his wife. And so it was that very next morning that the two of you had gone to a temple alone, dressed in nothing but casual, everyday clothes, and had a priestess swear you not only mated, but wed. 

Lucien Vanserra — your mate and husband. You still couldn’t get your head around how lucky you were.

But the two of you had hidden your rings for the duration of Dion and Willow’s ceremony. You gaped at Eris—

“How did you know?” You asked again.

“One of the first tasks I wanted to face as High Lord,” Eris answered, “was to visit the various temples across the courts and begin discussions of repairs and renovations that my father neglected for years to arrange. He held no regard for the priestesses and their beliefs — and he allowed a lot of their temples to waste away over the centuries. It was during one of these visits that a priestess enthusiastically offered me congratulations on yours and Lucien’s nuptials — not realising, of course, that the two of you had kept it to yourselves.”

You snorted, hiding your face against his shoulder as your cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry. We didn’t want a big ceremony…after everything.”

“What could you possibly have to be sorry for?” He paused, pulling back to stare at you. “After all the two of you have been through, it seemed only right that you had something just for yourselves. Weddings are a chore, anyway. I’m happy for you.”

You swallowed hard, sure your eyes were glistening again. “Thank you.”

“And I’m absolutely honoured to officially welcome you to the family.” He grinned. “Mrs.Vanserra.”

You blinked, still not entirely used to the title. You’d not found yourself in a situation, yet, where you’d needed to be referred to by your new surname. 

It sounded…strange. Wonderfully so. And right.

“You know,” you cleared the lump from your throat, “there was a time when I dreaded the day I would be called that. Now…now I couldn’t be more proud.”

“Because you married the right Vanserra.” He squeezed your hand. “And you’re going to have a sickeningly happy life together, just as you deserve to.”

Never, under the heat of a thousand fucking suns, could you have predicted such an outcome. On that first night that you’d been at the estate, when you’d stumbled upon Lucien reading in the forest…never would you have thought that he would be the one to become your husband. Or your mate.

Perhaps you should have had an inkling — with how drawn you’d been to him, right from that first encounter. 

Be it fate or the Cauldron or the Mother…the path you’d journeyed, even at its toughest, deepest cracks in the road, had been the one you’d needed to traverse to get where you were now.

You had no regrets. Not a single one.

“And you and Linden…” You smiled up at him — your brother-in-law. “Perhaps one day, we’ll be revisiting this conversation, and you’ll be calling yourself Eris—”

“Y/N!”

Upon the interruption, the two of you glanced up…just in time to see Lucien hurrying over to you, hands firmly steadying the little girl who was perched on his shoulders…and who was sprinkling daisies in his hair.

“Look.” Your mate beamed at you, entirely in his element. “Hana and I made daisy chains.”

You stared at your mate. 

And then turned to meet Eris’s gaze.

And you knew — you damn well knew, as the two of you threw your heads back and laughed loud enough to drown out the music, that you were both thinking the same thing.

Thinking back to that conversation you’d had with Eris all that time ago, not long after you and Lucien had first slept together.

To what Eris had said to you: we don’t have the luxury or freedom to go gallivanting around fields and making daisy chains, or whatever it is that Lucien does in his spare time—

The two of you laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed until your stomachs hurt, until tears were escaping your eyes.

And Lucien just blinked at you. “What did I say?”

Eris snorted, shaking his head. His laughter was still choking him slightly as he let go of you, pushing you towards your mate.

“Dance with your wife, brother.” He said. “And stop hogging our niece. I want to dance with Hana.”

Poor Lucien still looked bewildered as Eris reached up, plucking his niece from his brother’s shoulders and setting her gently on the ground. And the sight of him tenderly leading her into a dance, holding onto her little hands and guiding her feet whilst she spun around in her dress — your heart damn near burst out of your chest at the sight.

But then Lucien was spinning you around to face him, planting his hands on your waist. You grinned up at him, holding back another laugh at the smattering of daisies in his hair.

He pushed his lips into a playful pout. “Why are you laughing at me, mate?”

Because you were happy. Elated. Because you could finally breathe and imagine a future. One that you’d chosen for yourself. 

But you merely pushed up onto the tips of your toes, a smile still on your lips as you kissed the love of your life.

“I’m not.” You said softly. “I just love you.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Hours upon hours passed, with no signs of the celebrations slowing. 

You enjoyed every second of it. Dancing with Lucien, and then Dion, and then Willow. Sitting down on the blanket that Catrin and Helion occupied and enthusiastically speaking to them, drinking down their stories. Getting to know even more about your other brothers-in-law and their lives, their histories. And you and Linden chasing the children through the wildflowers and joining their hands to dance in a circle whilst the sweet sound of childlike laughter mingled with the ongoing music.

It was easily one of the happiest nights of your life.

And when the sky began to lighten…when things finally began to wind down, and the children had curled up around Catrin and Helion and fallen asleep, and guests had begun to return home, and Linden and Eris and Dion and Willow each broke away from the group to go off in their couples…you grabbed Lucien by the hand and tugged him away with you. 

The two of you settled atop a knoll covered in vibrant wildflowers, and it was there that Lucien slotted you between his legs and you happily, quietly, watched the sun rise over the court, painting the sky in peachy hues. 

A new day for all of you. A new era. The rising of the sun felt beautifully symbolic, and for a long, long while, you and Lucien didn’t need to speak a word. You were content to just lie in the grass and flowers together, his fingers rubbing soothing circles into your skin. 

Day had truly broken by the time he angled you to look at him. And his russet eyes were brilliant and unguarded as he gazed at you.

“The book,” he said — the first words he’d spoken since you’d nestled down on that knoll, “the book of poems and sonnets.”

You reached out, idly playing with the braid he now wore every day. “What of it?”

For a moment, he seemed to ponder his words. And then he smiled…somewhat coyly. “I don’t know…it sounds a little silly, but…I began to wonder if that book was a prophecy, somehow. Of our story. Each of my favourite poems from that book — that I knew by heart before I even met you — seem strangely…accurate…to us.”

Your head fell into a tilt. “How so?”

He laid back, pulling you down with him. And his fingers slid into the strands of your hair as he stared up at the morning sky.

“The tempered glow of moonlit skies, sketched waltzes in his lover’s eyes, and no immortal heart did dance, the way his did so thoroughly.” He recited, the words smooth like silk. “That one reminds me of the masquerade ball — when we first kissed.”

You smiled, perching your chin on his chest. Gazing up at him. “And what else?”

“And in the storm, however brief, he bared himself for soil and leaf, and skin-to-skin he branded her deep, with all his flames that burned beneath — that one reminds me of the hunting trip. When we bedded down in that cave for the night and…kept each other warm.” He squeezed you. “And it goes on…a mossy cave that swallowed light, was where they bedded down that night, and as she slept, her face to his, he knew he’d never win their fight. And it’s strange…because I remember watching you sleep that night…looking so soft and gentle…and thinking that there was no way I was going to be able to fight off my feelings.”

Slowly, your fingers inched up to his face, dancing over his jaw, his lips. The words sent a shiver down your spine…such beautifully accurate words. 

It was almost as though that ancient, beaten-up copy of Poems and Sonnets Volume II had, indeed, prophesied the journey that you and Lucien would be taken on.

“I love that book.” You hummed softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “It makes me think of that first time I saw you…reading it against that tree, and looking effortlessly beautiful while doing so. I found you breathtaking.”

His lips twitched beneath yours. “Even though I was terribly rude to you?”

“I think it intrigued me even more.”

The two of you laughed, your eyes meeting and just…staring. Drinking each other in, bathed in that early morning light. Your happiness glowed even brighter than the sun.

“There was one more poem…” Lucien murmured, his breath fanning your face. “One more that always stuck in my mind.”

You brushed your thumb over his cheek. “Tell me.”

He paused, eyes scanning your face. And then he sucked in a slow breath, as though he was…nervous. “…For she was love, and lust, and hate. The lightning storm that souls create. And what chased him nightly from his sleep — the truth. She was, in fact, his mate.”

You stared at him, a lump rising in your throat.

And Lucien stared back at you.

And you only became aware of your tears as your vision blurred, and Lucien was reaching out to wipe the teardrops from your cheeks. Reaching out to kiss them away with his lips.

It was your story. Poems and Sonnets Volume II was, somehow, your story. 

It had all been there, perched in Lucien’s hands, from the first moment you’d laid eyes on him. A beautiful telling of what was to come.

And you were thankful for it all — even the bad parts, the hard parts. The parts that had seen you curling yourself up to cry yourself to sleep at night.

Because every bit of it had lent itself to this outcome — you and Lucien here, now. In love. Mates. Husband and wife.

Lucien Vanserra. He was yours, and you were his.

It was a purely happy sob that choked you as you told him, “I love you so much.”

And those beautiful russet eyes shone brighter than any sun possibly could.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips. A promise of forever.

“I love you, too, my fireling.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

lucien tag list: @brekkershadowsinger @sillycrownlady @ruler-of-hades @lectoradefics @lucyysthings @littlemoonash @janzquu @carmelalikestoread @cathyac @tasha2627 @elkessecretplace @inkyvelvet @acourtofthought @zazite95 @antisocialcookie16 @sehalpha25 @fuckthatfeeling @adamgetawaydriver @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @lostpirateinwonderland @scrunklybunny @owllover123 @vangoghsbaby @goodbyemilkyway @babyimagangsta2 @cynicalpotato95 @draguta @pee-stachio @rem-ie @mateobneun-rattattui

#acotar #lucien x reader #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #lucien fanfic #acotar fandom #acotar writing #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfic #acotar headcanon #acotar x reader #acotar smut #acotar fluff #acotar series #fluff #mating bond #smut #lucien smut #lucien fluff #lucien fic #angst #sarah j maas #vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #autumn court #acotar universe #reader insert

[sarahwroteathing]

Alarm Clock

[Steve Rogers x Reader]

Word Count: 1877

Summary: Sometimes all you need is a midnight conversation with someone you love.

Warnings: So much softness, I was way too in my Feelings

A/N: More retired Steve because I’m now obsessed. It’s fine. Enjoy it, my lovelies. I appreciate you being so patient with me.

Bingo Fill: Next Generation Fic

There was a time when you wouldn’t have noticed his absence. Or perhaps it was better to say you wouldn’t have been pulled from sleep by it. But you were together all the time now, free to devote as much time and attention as you had to each other. It’s amazing how much you found yourselves learning about each other, even after years together. When there were no cracks for the details to slip through, each quirk, habit, and half-remembered anecdote was a thing of wonder, a personal artifact worthy of careful study. And as your lives became more integrated, new habits arose and new quirks were revealed.

Steve quite liked milk and sugar in his coffee, now that he had time to enjoy it.

You enjoyed reading out loud to him almost as much as he enjoyed listening to it. 

Steve would rather die than eat an artichoke. (Not even remotely true, but you’d laughed so hard at his expression upon taking that first bite that he had complained as theatrically as possible just to prolong your joy.)

And, most relevant now, you were no longer capable of sleeping alone.

You found him at the hall window, shoulders hunched to peer through the small telescope stationed there, a birthday present from Clint.

“What are you doing?”

He straightened up at your voice, turning to you with slight concern.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping or - ” Your words were cut off by an insistent yawn. “Sleeping?”

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Did you get cold? I pulled an extra blanket over you before I left.”

“No I just…” You shrugged. “Felt your absence, I guess.” 

He gave an apologetic smile, going a little soft inside at the reminder that he, plain old Steve Rogers, was still that important to you. 

“I must love you or something,” you said quietly, leaning into him and wrapping your arms around his waist. 

“Or something, huh?” he asked, kissing your forehead as you gave as close to a laugh as you could manage in your half-asleep state. “You don’t have to stay up with me, sweetheart. Go back to bed. I’m okay.” 

“Well, I want you to be better than okay,” you answered, shuffling around and guiding him with gentle but insistent hands until he was facing the window again, this time with you pressed against his back, holding him tight like he might wander away otherwise, like there was anywhere else he’d rather be. 

Steve placed a hand over yours on his stomach, stroking his thumb over your knuckles absently. Your sigh landed between his shoulder blades, and he suppressed a shiver. 

“What are we looking at?” you asked.

He hesitated a moment before answering.

“The tree line.”

“Okay.” 

Your hands made a slow journey up his chest and back down, and Steve took a deep breath, matching the motion.

“See anything?”

The street was deserted, unlit houses just barely visible off to the left and right. Your closest neighbors were well separated from you by sizable lots and mature trees. Across the street was undeveloped land, a line of trees and brush that swayed slightly in the wind. There was no other movement, no sign anyone but the two of you were even awake in your little corner of the world. 

“No,” he said quietly. “There’s nothing.”

Your hands made another gentle pass, but you stayed silent. 

“Do we need to talk about this?” Steve asked, turning his head to catch a glimpse of you.

“Maybe. But it can wait.”

For a few minutes you stayed at the window, you with your face buried against his back, placing kisses there when the quiet started to seem too solemn. Steve released a breath he’d been holding for longer than he’d intended, turning in your arms to offer a more complete hug before leading you downstairs.

You trailed along as he checked the doors and windows, only releasing his hand and wandering away when you reached the last one. 

He found you again in the kitchen, two mugs and a plate of cookies balanced precariously in your hands. 

“Can we talk… now?” he asked hesitantly, taking the plate from you before it could tip too far.

Your eyes softened.

“Yeah. Come on.”

Steve followed you to the living room, smiling as you bypassed the couch to sit on the rug instead. He swiped a few throw pillows and a blanket before joining you. 

You whispered a thank you, arranging and rearranging the pillows and snacks several times before Steve resorted to dragging you into his lap. 

“Bossy,” you mumbled through a smile as he pushed the pillows behind him to lean back against the couch with you in his arms. 

“You can move if you want to,” he said, letting out an amused huff when you only snuggled closer, resting your head against his shoulder. 

“I know.”

Steve reached over to take a cookie from the plate, offering it to you.

“Trying to butter me up, Rogers?” you asked.

“Maybe a little.”

“I’m not going to yell at you,” you said, leaning back a little to look him in the eyes. 

“Well. Sometimes I probably need to be yelled at.”

“I don’t think this is one of those times.” You brushed a kiss over his cheek before settling in his arms again. 

Another pause, peaceful. Companionable. A quiet harmony of slow breathing and the rustle of a blanket. Then…

“No one’s out to get you here,” you said softly. “I promise.”

When that only earned a hum of acknowledgement, you changed tactics.

“Well, maybe they are. But only in a sexy way. Or a ‘my yard is better than yours’ way.”

He snorted, and you smiled against his shoulder.

“Jesus. Well, unfortunately for them, I’m happily taken. And I couldn’t possibly care less about our yard. Sorry about that.”

“For not caring about the length of our grass? Pretty sure that just makes you a well adjusted human with reasonable priorities. Besides, I’m happy to keep paying that kid down the street to care about it for us. Less work for us, and he gets money to go to the movies or… I dunno. Buy whatever it is teenage boys buy these days.”

“Yikes.”

“Judgemental,” you scolded teasingly. “What did you buy as a teenage boy?”

“Uh…” Steve let out a thoughtful sigh. “Groceries. Drawing paper. Asthma cigarettes.”

“Asthma -” You broke into giggles, and Steve lightly pinched your arm in rebuke.

“Now who’s being judgemental?”

“I’m not! I… Just, you know. Little hell raiser Steve with his leather jacket and asthma cigarettes.” 

“The leather jacket came later. Woulda been the cheapest suit jacket I could find. Or a patched up winter coat.”

“Sexy.” 

“Oh yeah. The real reason I needed the serum was to fend off all my admirers,” he scoffed.

“Hey, I would have admired you.” you protested quietly. “My favorite things about you have always been the same. Your eyes, always telling me more than you mean for them to. That beautiful smile. Your weird sense of humor.”

“Weird?” 

You laughed, tilting your head to place a kiss on his neck. 

“Yes, weird. But charming. My point is, Steve Rogers has always been a dreamboat. People were just stupid.”

Steve didn’t know what to say to that, so he just held you a little tighter, thought about the locket he gave you on your last birthday. The last time he saw it, open on your nightstand, the picture inside was an old one, when he was still just skin and bone and eyes too big for his face. 

“Now, however, I have competition. Have to glare at people at the grocery store when they stare at you too long.” 

“You don’t have any competition,” Steve argued, hiding a smile in your hair. 

“Bonnie thinks you’re a retired GQ model. She’s very confused by our relationship.”

“Well, Bonnie can mind her own business.” 

“Ooo and last week I heard that Aaron thinks I’m in witness protection, and you’re my Marshal.”

“I don’t think that’s how witness protection works. He thinks we’re faking our relationship?”

“Very Lifetime movie, right?”

He hummed in agreement, a few seconds later adding, “I’d watch that.”

“Yeah, me too.” 

“I think we got a little off topic though,” Steve said with a smile. 

You laughed. “Yes, sorry. We can talk romcoms another time.”

You wiggled around in his lap, sitting up straighter so you could see him better, holding one of his hands in both of yours. You were still smiling, but the humor dissipated, replaced by tender concern. 

“Tell me how you’re feeling.” 

Steve took a deep breath, leaning to rest his forehead against yours for just a moment before speaking. Gathering courage, maybe. Or just comfort. 

“I don’t know. I just get… restless sometimes. And anxious. And I’m not sure where it comes from, but it makes it hard to sleep.”

You hummed, reaching out to stroke his cheek with a delicate touch as you pieced together your answer. 

“You know… There are some mornings that I wake up earlier than I need to. And I roll over and check the clock, and I see that I still have time left. Sometimes thirty minutes, sometimes two hours. And sometimes instead of falling back asleep or snuggling up to my favorite person, I just… lie there. Full of anxiety. Waiting for the alarm to go off. I know it’s going to, and instead of accepting and enjoying what time I have left to rest I just spend it all… waiting.” 

Steve was quiet for a minute, studying your face, letting your words sink in. 

“You think that’s what I’m doing?” he asked. 

“Sometimes,” you said with a shrug. “Maybe. You get in your head and convince yourself something bad must be coming. So you wait for it. Instead of… being present in the time we have.” 

Steve nodded thoughtfully. 

“I think you’re probably right. Sometimes it just… feels weird to be this happy all the time. It doesn’t fit with the pattern of my life before.” His lips tugged into a frown. “That sounds terrible, doesn’t it?”

“I liked the part about being happy all the time,” you whispered with a nudge and a smile. “I really, really liked it.” 

And you very clearly did get joy from his happiness, your tired eyes lit up and a sweet smile gracing your features. A smile that turned into something quieter, almost shy when he leaned in for a kiss. You melted into it, sweet and sleepy. Slow. Perfect.

“So, no more waiting for the alarm clock,” Steve sighed as he pulled away. He didn’t go far, his lips still brushing against yours as he spoke.

“You’re retired, Steve. You’ve got years of pure Saturdays ahead of you,” you said softly. “Just toss the damn thing out the window. You don’t need it.”

“You may have to remind me sometimes.”

“Whenever you need. Just say the word.”

And you stayed like that, just holding each other in the dark living room until you both fell asleep again. 

When Steve woke the next morning, it was to warm sunshine streaming through the windows. To birdsong and the smell of coffee and an extra blanket draped over him by the person he loved.

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I am simply too soft for my own good. How are we feeling, friends? Share your thoughts with me, please. Asks, replies, and reblogs make my world go ‘round 💜

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Tags: @shifutheshihtzu​ @internalbullshit​ @lilasiannerd-blog​ @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory​ @iwillbeinmynest​ @scotlandasshole​ @netflixa​ @hardcorehippos​ @singingprincessstudent​ @sophiealiice​ @blue1928​  @a-book-pressed-rose​ @bbparker​ @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun​ @feelmyroarrrr​  @orangespocks​ @multifandomgirl-us​ @buckybarneshairpullingkink​ @patzammit​ @pato-el-cerdito​

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #steve rogers one shot

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 3/5/2024

really fucking around in Breath of the Wild and not defeating Ganon, even though i think i am fairly well prepared, which is probably indicative of something or a metaphor for some larger issue. oh well! guess we'll never know!

listening

Rock the Jungle by The Daniel Pemberton TV Orchestra, off an album of music from and inspired by LittleBigPlanet, a video game i have never played. Daniel Pemberton is a remarkably prolific british composer who mostly does film these days but also does a lot of BBC stuff.

this is the kind of scrubby pad to the brain electronica i need sometimes. i think these are heavily filtered and processed kookaburra sounds? at about the minute fifteen mark it adds a rolling, rollicking bassline that is, as im sure we all know by now, fucking catnip to me. at about 2:20 it adds alarm blares that fade in and out of a sort of disco-y organ? it uses its five minute runtime pretty well imo. i think this was off the spotify discover weekly.

-

reading

T Kingfisher's The Clockwork Boys, recced by @rae-being-naughty lo these many months ago, and my library hold finally came in. the goodreads blurb is a remarkably accurate sales pitch so let's yoink that

A paladin, an assassin, a forger, and a scholar ride out of town. It’s not the start of a joke, but rather an espionage mission with deadly serious stakes. T. Kingfisher’s new novel begins the tale of a murderous band of criminals (and a scholar), thrown together in an attempt to unravel the secret of the Clockwork Boys, mechanical soldiers from a neighboring kingdom that promise ruin to the Dowager’s city. If they succeed, rewards and pardons await, but that requires a long journey through enemy territory, directly into the capital. It also requires them to refrain from killing each other along the way! At turns darkly comic and touching, Clockwork Boys puts together a broken group of people trying to make the most of the rest of their lives as they drive forward on their suicide mission.

i had a lot of fun with this! very pratchett-esque in its imperial critique through bureaucratic loopholes thereof, which is catnip to me, but i do think Kingfisher is simply better at writing women. the forger is an only child and it fucking shows.

i think if it were 5% more devoted to Humorous Bits and didn't have some nice character work between the forging accountant and the big sad blond paladin man, i would have gotten frustrated with it. i think it is simply more of a comedy than any of its blurbs suggest, and it can be difficult to ride that line between comedy and character growth through desperate acts without getting a little bit of whiplash. this is me being very depressed and a bit nitpicky though. the line "Time passed, like a kidney stone" is going to stick in my brain for a while. i already have the sequel on hold

-

watching

if you do nothing else today could you please watch this car chase for me? ok thanks

Gunsmith Cats is a three-episode OVA that's a fancam of the american city of chicago and the cool girls that live and shoot and drive there, but let's just yank the MyAnimeList description

In the dangerous suburbs of Chicago, skilled bounty hunters Irene "Rally" Vincent and "Minnie" May Hopkins run Gunsmith Cats, a firearms store of questionable legality. One day, Bill Collins, an agent for the Chicago branch of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives, blackmails Rally and May into working with him on a case. The stakes are high, but Rally’s gunmanship and May’s knowledge of explosives are unmatched. As Rally and May unravel the secrets of the case, the two will need to use guns and grenades while being faster, stronger, and better than everyone else in order to stay alive.

all three episodes are free (in really nice quality) on youtube. i pitched this to wendy as "rally is jigen lupinthethird's little sister" and her driving skills and marksmanship... i'm not sure who would win between them but i wouldn't like to live on the difference.

animators, historically, hate animating guns and cars, except for the masochistic ones who use it to flex. there are at least three shots in each episode where i want to stand up and hold my cat above my head and hoot like a fuckin tusken raider. in the first episode, there's a raid on a smuggling warehouse (you know, a warehouse) where the BATF agent and Rally throw each other their guns and have a really cool FALLING OFF A CATWALK back to back shootout. it's hard to describe. watch the episode. i wish there were more than three episodes.

this is an OVA that, aside from the requisite panty shot and WHOOPS my whole shirt tore (one of each per episode per girl) is fairly normal about women? rally and minnie are...roommates. that bicker and eat pizza. they have a cool network of other slightly shady women they interact with a lot, and the big bad for most of the episodes is also a woman. this isn't like a bastion of feminism or anything it's just neat. sort of middling on the ass portion of the Weeb Ass Shit scale. low on the weeb and shit parts too. again this is a fancam of chicago with cool girls

i watched this bc i was trying to use up kanopy credits and came across the precursor to this, Riding Bean, which i did not love for several reasons (the big one being the legitimately pedophilic lesbian relationship) but the creator took the concept of Rally out of that forty minute...experiment? and that led me to Gunsmith Cats. thank u ppl who put free anime on youtube

-

playing

still futzing about in breath of the wild. fucking around with sidequests and a sudden need to at least discover all the shrines.

for example, i did all the labyrinth shrines. underneath the akkala labyrinth is the scariest room in the world, bc six of those fuckers are alive and they will all target you the instant you open that chest.

cannot be bothered with the eventide island shrine yet (the roguelike) bc it frustrates the hell out of me. did the thyplo forest one, which was extremely annoying bc it dimmed my whole TV screen (including the UI) instead of just dimming the game itself. im sure someone thought that would be such a cool detail but instead i found it extremely annoying and vey difficult to swap weapons or start campfires.

and then i trundled through a list of shrine quests, bc i apparently had TWELVE missing?? three were korok trials, one was eventide (apparently it only shows up as a quest if you are on the island or have finished it, bc if u die on the island it kicks you back to a pre-island save lmao) so for the others: three i just had to talk to people to officially start and then immediately complete the quest. remember when i was anxious about softlocking myself out of the jungle dragon shrine quest bc i went right there instead of talking to Kass? never fear, nintendo's got my back

"kay how did you possibly miss reading the giant stone tablet to start this quest--" i am not a clever woman. i go "oh i know what to do!!!" when i see the Orb and hare off without looking around further.

A Brother's Roast i missed bc i forgot to talk to everyone in Goron City after defeating rudania, didn't run across Test of Will (the Goron challenge in the Gerudo highlands) bc i forgot to look off that side of the tower and was very focused on gliding into the labyrinth at the right spot, and didn't run across Guardian Slideshow on the far south beaches bc i hadn't explored there yet.

A Stolen Heirloom was deeply annoying. i had four out of five quests complete to unlock this, but there is an unmarked side quest where you have to go into this lady's house at night to figure out she wants fireflies. maybe she has some ambient daytime barks about this? i have never heard them. this was a little obtuse. also i don't love the stealth in this game. this game's stealth really works when you are well out of detection range bc u have a sniper bow, and i find it works less well for me when i have to follow a target. no i haven't finished the korok stealth trial either.

non-shrine nonsense:

ive been using Stasis as a sort of VATS equivalent. in fallout, i like to hit VATS every once in a while just to see who's out there. how many radroaches are nearby. this also highlights most interactable things which i think is nice of the game

gerudo town stuff: i missed this sand seal racing challenge by SO little the first time which annoyed me so much, it took me six more tries to beat the damn thing. i am very charmed that they actually put in a garden for the kid who was trying to grow a garden!

some beach vegetation mysteries: im really baffled by this singular hearty radish growing in full sun in what is essentially sand with a dusting of palm bark. all the other hearty radishes i have seen are in deep forests with partial sun and lots of leaf litter. what the hell is this then. plus a neat little unique sea wrack? korok circle instead of the usual lilypads.

i didn't know this game knew how to do rainbows at all, let alone double ones!

i will leave you with my many attempts to make stamina potions.

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making

making things requires both the perfect levels of anxiety (too little anxiety and im out doing normal people things, too much anxiety and i shut down, a medium level means im frantically making things to distract myself. we are at the high end of medium) and some level of income bc i inevitably need one or two things to finish projects. eg we are at the level of anxiety where i am only able to do simple things like repainting a whole bunch of big frames for my maps (procured when i had money) but i need more matboard. so they are sitting, 90% finished, in my office closet.

garden update: more than half my bush beans came up with no leaves and promptly died, which could be due to any number of things but im choosing to believe it's bc my bestie's five year old planted them a little too deeply. so it goes. all the sweet peas are fine, all my normal peas and most of my regular climbing beans came up. a little annoyed bc only a third of my nasturtiums came up even after soaking them for 24h as recommended. the shit i Bought (tomatoes, marigolds, mint, rosemary) is doing fine. the spinach and dill i planted are doing fine too, although the spinach also had about a 50% germination rate. this does mean i don't need to thin them but. Hm. yanno?

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem

[triplexdoublex]

technically yes nobody can save you but I agree that hearing your fav saying that they’ve been through the same stuff that u have is very comforting especially when dealing with mental illness cause it can be a very isolating experience. But it is your choice and decision to get better, your fav person can show u that they also went to therapy and how it has helped them and that can influence you to go and try it out but that’s still up to u. With Kells I think he’s struggling a lot even if he tries not to show it to not worry us that much, and from what I’ve seen I don’t think he feels deserving of our love and devotion to him or that his mind wants to believe that we will turn on him and he’ll end up alone as he was most of his life. The line “who am I when the music stops” imo kind of shows that he’s scared all the love and support will leave when he’s not singing no more, and that maybe everyone who hated will come out in support of him only when he’s dead, cause that’s what’s happened to a lot of artists who have passed (like he mentioned in his line “thinkin maybe the hate’ll finally go away if I’m not alive”). He definitely knows we love him through the support we give him on music and project but I think he’s scared to even through music really be honest with us cause he’ll be scrutinised for it. He’s got so many eyes on him now and I think he’s scared to lose the fame and publicity he so badly wanted for so long. I believe with “don’t let me go” he even said that it was a song he usually wouldn’t put out if he had more time to sit on it or something. and I think that’s why he’s also holding onto Megan. She helped him get the fame he worked so hard for years to get, he finally got the recognition that he so badly fought for and I think if he loses her he's afraid he’ll also lose that part of fame and the awards and such, not saying he didn’t get awards before Megan but she definitely helped him get to another level of fame and publicity. And I think if he loses Megan he’ll be made fun of in the media. At the start everyone was so out of their minds on how a guy like him could get the world loved hottie Megan Fox and if it comes out saying that they aren’t together anymore, even tho all the people who saw the relationship as toxic or weird will be happy, he’ll still be laughed at for managing to lose the “most beautiful women”. Like they made fun of him after the em disses, he’ll also be made fun of if he loses Megan.

TW// Suicide ideation

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Yes technically you’re saving yourself by making the decisions needed to better your mental health but sometimes you need that spark of hope to get you started and kells is that spark for a lot of people. I’ve had many sparks along my mental health journey one of them actually being song lyrics from the song “Self Conclusion” by The Spill Canvas. I was driving home from work thinking about ending it all, I already knew how I was gonna do it — I had recently had my wisdom teeth removed and this was back when they would give you prescription pain meds for literally anything (which is how how the opioid crisis started) They gave me Percocet even though I said that I didn’t want them because I was afraid of getting addicted (addiction runs in my family) He insisted I would NEED them. But I didn’t they sat in my cabinet full and unused, and I was planning to take the bottle. I had just pulled into my driveway when the song started playing , a song I’d heard a million times before but the lyrics “we all flirt with the tiniest notion of self conclusion in one simplified motion, the trick is your never supposed to act on it, no matter how unbearable this misery gets” hit different in that moment and felt like a sign to me to stay and get help. I sat in the car and sobbed for what felt like fovever , then went inside and got rid of the pills. And did start therapy shortly after. Yearsss later when I met the lead singer I thanked him for SAVING me! Of course I was the one who decided not to go through with it and to start going to therapy , but what if I never heard that song at the exact moment I needed it , would I even be here having this conversation… there’s a good chance I wouldn’t. So yes I believe I was saved by their music!

Kells definitely gets a lot underserved hate , he has shared many times that he worries about not being appreciated until his dead. Another lyric that comes to mind is “everybody hates, but can anybody love me, guess they’ll wait until my face is on the mural” i think he finally did get a little taste of being taken more seriously when Tickets to my downfall and Mainstream sellout both went number one and her acquired a bunch of new fans . But it must be so hard to know that pretty much everyone outside of the fanbase hates him.

I don’t believe Megan helped kells to rise to fame , if anything he boosted her non existent acting career ( when was the last time you heard about Megan Fox before they got together … maybe 2007ish ) Kells gained more fame for revitalizing the pop-punk scene, but I do agree that he will be dragged for ‘loosing Megan’ I’ve already seen evidence of it in social media comments

#machine gun kelly #mgk #colson baker #megan fox #tw// suicide

[juliasdowntonstuff]

Intoxication

I've written a new one shot (it's slightly too long to be considered a drabble, I think)

This one was loosely inspired by James Blunt's song “Bartender” and takes place a few weeks after the entire Bricker-incident came to a head that evening in Cora´s bedroom.

This is also the first time I've written something as explicitly M-rated as this (please let me know what you think of it). The second half of this contains said explicit parts and I will try to divide that off with that line feature for people who might not want to read that.

For now, I hope you enjoy some drunk Cobert on a night out in London...

It was a cold, yet still rather pleasant, evening when Robert and Cora walked along the pavement in London Mayfair. Their destination, the grand hotel and restaurant Robert had chosen for them that night, was already in plain view ahead of them. He had not told her where they were headed, but the familiar sight of the red brick facade with its many nooks and balconies was all she needed to see to know. He had selected their favourite restaurant, Claridge's - a decision no doubt influenced by the last time he had tried to take her out to dinner and failed because of a stupid decision she had made. 

What was supposed to be a nice surprise on his part had turned into a night both of them regretted, or at least she hoped so, for she certainly regretted every aspect of it in hindsight. He had said quite a few things she found hard to forgive when she had returned to Rosamund's house in Belgrave Square and found him waiting there for her, but she and her behaviour were the reason he had uttered them, she knew that.

Their entire exchange from that night was still very much present in her mind as they silently walked in the direction of the grand entrance. It was unusual for them to talk so little, they always found it quite easy to talk to each other about anything and everything. Cora would have been more than happy to listen to him rant about the next problem the estate was going to have to face or what the farmers had said the day before when he had visited them together with Mary on his rounds, but he stayed silent and kept to himself. They were not on good terms, that much was certain. He had even taken his hand back after he had helped her from the motor, letting it fall back to his side instead of holding it out for her to put her hand in the crook. Things had been amiss for weeks now, months even, and she did not know what to do or say to get her Robert back. They had talked about it and things had seemed to be looking up, but that had been an illusion.

She looked over at him and saw his eyes fixed on some point ahead of them, almost as if he were ignoring her entire existence next to him. She could almost swear that she even saw his jaw clench when he saw her face turning to him out of the corner of his eye. Cora felt as if she was still not forgiven, even though weeks had passed since that night, and he had apologized for his behaviour with a beautiful set of pearls the last time they were in London for Rose's wedding. Things had returned to normal in the weeks after that - apart from the aspect of their marriage that she usually described as terrific fun. They had been better, or maybe she had just thought they were. The palpable tension between them as they walked to the restaurant was almost too much for her to bear.

Cora was shaken from her musings when they were greeted by a young man in uniform and she suddenly found herself in the restaurant that held so many happy memories she shared with her husband. But she couldn't help but feel a slight disappointment well up inside her while they waited for the young man to find their reservation in the book. The prospect of a rather frosty dinner - if their journey here had been anything to go by - did not seem too enticing to her.

“Excuse me, Mister Crawley, but I can't seem to be able to find a reservation made under that name.”

Her head snapped up, looking at the young brown-haired man in uniform, who was somewhat frantically running his finger down the list of names with reservations for that night. He must have been rather new to this post, judging by the sheer nervousness his entire being exuded.

“Please check again, I definitely called in a week ago,” Robert said calmly, even managing a small smile. It was clear that he was not at all used to being in a situation like this one. He had never had any problems at restaurants or hotels to find reservations. The mention of his title would always be the winning argument, even though he tried to refrain from using it too much. 

When the young man still couldn't seem to find their reservation in the book, Robert sighed and decided to play his trump card: “Try Lord Grantham then, maybe whoever put it down used the title instead of the family name.” He was getting impatient and it reflected in his tone, even though he still stayed cordial and polite.

It only took a few seconds and another run of his finger down the extensive list for the young man to look up again with a smile and exclaim:  “Ah yes, there we have it, Lord Grantham, sir. I am very sorry for this hold-up. If you please want to follow me to your table, milord, milady?”

Robert had to put a lot of effort into not wincing at the younger man's wording. Proper etiquette must have been a lesson taught in his no doubt costly education he had missed for one reason or the other. Or maybe the war had changed more things than Robert could fathom. 

Cora wasn't sure if he had truthfully spied their title on the list of reservations or if it was the mention of said title that did the trick, but she was grateful nonetheless. The situation was becoming quite embarrassing the longer it had seemed to stretch. 

The mutual silence continued well into their main course, only disrupted by Robert ordering their food and drinks and some pleasant and rather polite small talk about the food in front of them, which was an unknown sensation to her. This might have been more than acceptable for most couples in the peerage - couples who did not love each other. But Robert and Cora did - they had for more than three decades until their relationship had taken a turn for the worst without either of them seeming to be able to find a way back to the other. This evening proved it. The last time they had had a shared dinner with just the two of them in an atmosphere as uncomfortable as this one must have been on their honeymoon, while they were still trying to get to know the other.

The lack of talking, however, caused a spike in their intake of alcoholic beverages with their food, each of them taking a sip when they would have usually said something that could potentially interest the other. Cora couldn't remember the last time she had this much to drink with her dinner or in general, and she could already feel the inebriation starting to get the better of her judgment. The background noise droned on, washing over her repeatedly and in combination with the wine was making her feel slightly dizzy.

Robert might have been more used to drinking alcohol than she was, or at least he could stomach it better, but the alcohol slowly got to him as well by the time their dessert arrived. The music playing in the background was not quite to his taste - jazz was too modern for the traditionalist in him - but the longer the dinner stretched, the more he couldn't help but want to take his wife's hand and guide her to the dance floor in the middle of the classy dining room with the art deco interior.

She looked beautiful that night - not that she was ever anything but beautiful to him - but something about her dark hair in that intricate coiffure and the different shades of blue fabrics of her dress complimented her features even better than usual. 

He reached out his hand, waiting for a response from her. All he got, however, was an arched eyebrow in question, her gaze flickering between his big hand and his face.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked when he realised she had no idea what his outstretched hand was alluding to.

“Really, Robert? Here, with the jazz music you hate?”

He nodded his head yes. Some part of him was aware of the hesitance in her question that offered him a chance to retract his invitation, but his slightly intoxicated conscious mind couldn't care less. 

Hesitantly, she abandoned her bombe glacée that had just arrived together with his Eton mess and gingerly put her much smaller hand in his, letting him guide her to join the handful of other dancing couples.

He had never experienced a dance feeling so foreign and yet so familiar in his more than 50 years of existence, not even when he had not yet been taught all the different traditional dances a future Earl had to know. The music that softly filled the vast room lacked any sense of regular and danceable rhythm, at least according to him at that moment, and he struggled to think of steps that fit this particular piece of music. The tall and slender figure in his arms, however, was most familiar to him. He had spent hours upon hours twirling his darling wife around so many different ballrooms over the course of their long-standing marriage. Robert had never enjoyed all these grand balls, had hated the need to socialise with other Earls, Barons and Dukes whose names he could barely remember at the end of the night while his wife was at the other end of the room, talking to the wives of other members of the peerage. Many a night was spent like that, him nursing his drink while listening to the boastings of the other men about their last successful hunt or the new mistresses they had found to keep them happy and occupied in their loveless marriages, while he could only stare at the source of all his happiness across the room, waiting for a chance to excuse himself from the situation. It was their way of finding the joy in these long nights that always seemed to stretch incredibly long, twirling around the room to the familiar rhythms of waltz after waltz. 

At first, Robert stumbled around the dance floor more than he danced, Cora merely following his lead, or rather lack thereof. However, at some point, she must have taken over and started manoeuvring them skilfully around the floor under the grand chandelier illuminating the equally grand room, without it looking too obvious to anyone who might have been watching them. Robert should have kept an eye on their surroundings to prevent them from bumping into other dancing couples, but he could not get himself to drop his gaze from her face. He studied it even though he knew her features better than the back of his hand - he knew her mouth that formed a hint of a smile at that moment, and he knew how her lips felt pressed to his in a fiery kiss. He knew her elegantly sloped nose and how it scrunched up when she was not holding in her laughter at something, completely disregarding etiquette and propriety when it was just the two of them. He knew her brilliantly twinkling blue eyes and how they always conveyed her innermost emotions, no matter how hard she tried to be stoic upon his mother's countess' training she had had to undergo after their wedding. Her eyes were not simply blue, but Robert couldn't name all the shades of that colour represented in them. Cora, or any other woman for that matter, probably could have. 

He couldn't care less about the names of the hues present in her eyes - what he cared about was the love for him he always saw reflected in them. It had been a while since he saw that love, and this time it had all been entirely his fault. He had pushed her away and into the arms of another man. Nothing had happened though, and for that he thanked God and whoever else might have listened, but it bugged him beyond belief nonetheless. How could he have been so incredibly thick? 

Maybe it was the dancing, or maybe it was the amount of alcohol they had both already consumed, but he could have sworn that he saw that love in her eyes again as they danced on the black and white checkered floor.

Before long, the current song came to an end and gave them the chance to return to their desserts. While they were gone, a waiter had refilled their glasses without so much of a question.

“When did you learn to do that?” he asked before taking a bite of his dessert. He relished in the sweetness of the meringue combined with the fine acidity of the berries. How anyone could prefer some heavy chocolatey dessert to the lightness and freshness of his chosen dessert was beyond him. Cora had, years ago, tried to explain to him that she just preferred the heavy sweetness of a chocolate cake or mousse after all the savoury dishes of earlier courses, but her point had never stuck with him - they had simply agreed to disagree.

“Do what?” she replied, cutting into the small dome covered in chocolate on her plate.

“Dance to this sort of music?”

She looked up from her sweet and chocolatey ice cream-filled cake at his question, a forkful of it coming to a halt mid-air.

“Do you remember Rose's stay with us and her surprise for your birthday? Well, I asked her to teach me one or two things afterwards. It never hurts to stay up to date with new things, be those fashions, foods, or dances.”

“Quite right. Rose did a splendid job then. I do not know why I asked you to dance when I had no idea how to do it, you saved me from quite some humiliation, my dear.”

The words slipped from his mouth before he could think. He had not used any term of endearment for her in months, given their strained relationship, and he had no idea how she would react. This evening was planned to hopefully bridge the deep divide between them, to mend what had been broken for too long and he knew he could not afford to take a wrong step. The fact that she had agreed to dance had signalled him that he had chosen the right path, but would this jeopardize it? He waited for a response with bated breath, deciding instead to stare down at his plate.

“I should like to think you asked me to dance because you wanted to.” Her tone was hard and matter-of-fact, it was an unfamiliar sensation to hear her speak to him like that. 

He looked back up at her, a slight blush on his cheeks, while he finished the last of his dessert.

Robert saw her cheeky smile and the twinkle of mirth in her eyes. She was mocking him, he should have known she was. She was his wife, and he had spent more of his life with her by his side than without. Of course, she would find a way to lighten the mood with her humour.

Her gaze changed, no longer challenging him. Instead, her eyes softened further and she smiled gently at him. Her enticing, disarming smile that brightened even the darkest of rooms enchanted him. It reminded him of the smiles she used to give him while they were sat around a dinner table when his mother had once again made everyone feel uncomfortable, most especially the two of them. No matter how crude his mother's remarks had been, she would always make sure that he knew that she supported him and would take in stride whatever was thrown at her.

“The rest does not matter, Robert, not to me. And I could not care less about what the other people thought of me leading the dance - if they noticed at all, which I doubt. People are rarely interested in things that do not involve themselves.”

She finished the last of her dessert, followed by another sip of her wine.

Robert felt the tips of his ears warm further, no doubt they must be flaming red by now, much like his cheeks. After gulping down the last of his beverage, he said: “Would you like to go home?”

Not long after, they both found themselves in the back of the motor taking them home to Grantham House in St. James's Square. It would have only been a twenty-minute walk from the restaurant, but both knew that they had had too much to drink to think it sensible to walk the entire way.

The butler had taken their coats and bid his goodnight upon their late arrival, locking the grand wooden doors behind them as they made their way up the many steps. Both, Robert and Cora, stumbled one or two times as they ascended the stairs leading to their rooms in their London home, giggling quietly while trying not to garner any more attention in the mostly empty house.

Cora was still holding his hand, which he took as a good sign. She had taken it in hers on the short ride home from the restaurant, letting it come to rest in her lap. He had chosen not to comment on that gesture, afraid he could ruin that understanding that seemed to have formed over the course of the evening.

They walked along the scarcely-lit, long and narrow hallway leading to both, her bedroom and his dressing room, with her walking slightly ahead of him, almost as if she were dragging him. When they had reached the door to her bedroom, however, he rather forcefully turned her around, hindering her from reaching for the golden doorknob. She gasped slightly at the suddenness of his action, her entire body stiffening in shock.

The next thing she saw was her husband's face mere centimetres away from her own, his blue eyes staring at her intently. She could feel his hot breath on her face and she saw his dilated pupils, her hand still firmly held in his while his other one found its way to her waist, pulling her closer to him. Before she knew it, she felt his lips crashing down on her own in a hot kiss that knocked the remaining breath out of her. Soon, his hand let go of hers and found its way to her face, caressing her jaw as he continued to kiss her hungrily.

The sudden sensation of his touches and kisses made her entire body tingle, it awakened a desire for him she had not felt this strongly in months. Cora wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself even closer than before, her body now pressed flush against his as she stood on the tips of her toes. Her hands wound themselves into his grey hair, playing with the slight curls at the back of his neck, tugging at the locks ever so slightly. He always kept his hair nice and tidy, mostly shorter than this so that it would not curl, but she had always adored his curly hair and the boyish charm it had added to his appearance.

Robert broke their kiss, drawing his face back a few centimetres to look at her flushed face while she was gasping for air. His hands were still on her neck and waist, with seemingly no intention of letting go and he smirked naughtily at her, aware of the effect his ardent kisses had on her.

“Maybe we should go inside before someone finds us out here,” she whispered in response.

Robert did not respond in so many words, but kissed her again, pushing her backwards closer to her bedroom door so that she was pressed firmly between the white lacquered wood and his body while he tried to find the knob to let them in without looking.

He kicked the door shut with his foot once they had entered the smaller room that was already tinged in warm hues of orange and red emitted by the crackling fire in the hearth. After turning the lock on the doorknob to keep any possible intruders outside, his hand once more encircled her waist, the other one running over her back, fumbling with the top buttons of her dress, trying to pry them open without tearing them off. 

She pushed his dinner jacket from his broad shoulders before her nimble fingers quickly worked on his already crooked bow tie and waistcoat, discarding the items in a pile on the bedroom floor. His kisses became even hungrier, his tongue exploring her mouth, dancing an all too familiar dance with hers. He could still taste hints of the red wine he had ordered, mixed with sweet notes of chocolate left from her dessert of choice.

Cora broke their kiss again, turning around in his arms while pantingly whispering: “This should make it easier. I do not want to have to explain any ripped-off buttons to Baxter in the morning.”

Robert only chuckled lowly in response, thankful that she made the hard work of undoing the countless buttons of her dress just a tiny bit easier. Once he had undone all of them, his hands ran up and down the sides of her body, coming to rest on her waist and shoulder. He bent down, placing a trail of soft, feathery kisses on the exposed skin of her neck before he started to take out the many pins holding her hair in place. While he was amazed by the sheer amount of pins stuck in his wife's hair to make her elaborate coiffure stay in place, she let her dress fall to the ground, her arms reaching for his head behind her back, pulling him closer to her, urging him to continue his kissing ministrations on her neck.

He also made quick work of her undergarments and chemise that joined his already discarded jacket and waistcoat on the floor.

Her hair now let down from its prior intricate up-do, she turned back around to face him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Before he knew it, she had unclasped his cufflinks faster than he ever could have - he had always struggled with them and was thankful for his valet who always did the fastening of them for him -  and just as quickly undid the buttons on the front of his shirt, which then piled on top of the rest of their clothing.

He bent down to kiss her again and he was met with her wandering hands roaming his chest, arms, and back before she broke their kiss yet again. Robert had to suppress a groan of annoyance at the interruption, only to be pleasantly surprised when she walked to the bed, her hips swaying from side to side. He couldn't help but stare at her naked form. If she only knew the effect she still had on him. Well, she must have had an inkling of it, otherwise, she wouldn't have tried to tease him like that. 

Gulping, he quickly rid himself of his polished leather shoes and discarded the rest of his clothing and joined her on the canopy bed. 

Robert kissed her, his mind feeling hazy as his hands wandered over her delectable body and hers ran over his chest, only to find their way back into his hair, further mussing it. He knew that whatever this was they had started was not going to take long to finish that night - he turned them over so that he was hovering above her, stilling his kisses to look at her, silently asking for her consent, just like he always did. No matter how intoxicated he might have been or how much she had teased him up until that point - he would always ask, not wanting to force her to do anything she might not want. It was a remnant of the early days of their marriage when he had had trouble distinguishing between his desire for her and his duties as a husband while not taking advantage of his wife.

She knew he would ask, he always did. When they were younger, she had thought this to be his guilt making a reappearance every time they shared the bed, which had annoyed her more than anything. But she had grown used to it and had come to find it very endearing, she had realised that this was just his true, gentle nature and it was another aspect of her husband that made her feel like falling in love with him all over again every single time.

Cora's back arched upwards, her chest pressed close to his, when he finally entered her. Her arms came up to keep him close as he filled her out, waiting for her to adjust to him again. It had been months since they last shared their marital bed in that way, but it felt so good and familiar, the both of them quickly finding their shared rhythm in bed again.

Their heavy breathing filled the room, joined by moans and whispers of endearment by either spurring each other on. Her hands continued to roam his upper body and ruffled his once-tidy hair, while he alternated between kissing her mouth hungrily and nibbling at that sensitive spot on her neck, which he knew to be one of her weakest spots. 

They moved together as one as he sped his rhythm up, knowing that both of them were close to their highest high. He softly kissed and nibbled at that sensitive spot just below her ear and heard her moan his name in response. When he felt her walls convulse around him, he couldn't help but get undone himself, kissing her fervently as his motions stilled.

He opened his eyes a few moments later, panting from their exertions, and looked down at his beautiful wife lying still beneath him. Her chest was rising and falling quickly as she tried to catch her breath herself. She looked so serene with her eyes closed, and her long wavy hair splayed out on the pillow beneath her. Robert would almost describe that view as angelic and it hit him yet again.

He had been so blind, Bricker had been right - it pained him to acknowledge that fact given the history, but it was true. Robert had all he could ever wish for and more, and he had taken her for granted, had passed her over and ignored her when she had started to get more involved with the things she truly liked to do, simply because he was afraid of what might or might not happen. And in all his caution of changing things too much, he had almost destroyed the very thing he cherished the most by not trusting her like she had always trusted him. He had been such a fool to ignore his wife, his darling Cora, and had almost lost her and her love in the process.

Cora opened her eyes as he let himself fall to her side. She watched him, her eyes still darkened by desire, as she turned on her side to face him.

“You know, I almost forgot what this feels like, to share a bed with you in this way. I almost forgot why I told the girls ahead of their weddings that things like these between two people who trust and love each other can be the most terrific fun, but tonight reminded me of that. Tonight reminded me of how much I love you and miss you, and that extends to before as well. The dancing reminded me of our little sneaky routine to get out of socialising at balls, it reminded me of easier times, when we navigated calmer seas, and I am sorry for ruining that for u-”

His hand came up to still her hand, which had been drawing small circles on his chest while she spoke softly into the quietness of the room.

“Cora, I told you before. There will never be a single thing you could ruin for me, never. I did not trust you when I should have. I know that I apologised before, but I will do it again and again and again until the end of my days if that is what it takes. I am truly sorry for the way I acted, for pushing you away and for saying those nasty things - I did not mean any of it. Tonight, I promised myself, was to be my last try to get the affections back I know I lost months ago. You accepted my apology and we got back into our daily routines, but I still felt that the fissure in our marriage had not magically disappeared after that simply because I uttered the words I'm sorry. I wanted tonight to make up for it all, I wanted to put this chapter in our lives behind us, once and for all. Maybe it was the wine or the food, maybe it was the dancing, or maybe it was just that sparkle in your eye that hinted that you still loved me, despite all my previous shortcomings. I do not know what it was, but it gave me the courage to be bolder than I probably should have been. Nevertheless, I am glad it led us here, back together, at last.”

Cora giggled, it was rare for her husband to talk this much about feelings and the reasonings behind the things he did or said. “Well, if this is anything to go by, then I would say that the wine played quite a big role. And I want to thank it from the bottom of my heart for giving me back what I cherish most in life - my darling husband.”

“I quite share that sentiment, my dear. But I think we will both be talking differently about our gratitude for the wine influencing our decisions tonight come morning. I suggest we both ask for some powder first thing, God knows we shall both need it.”

Cora nestled into his side, after which he pulled up the blankets to cover their bodies. They both started to feel the effects of everything that had contributed to their present situation: the late hour, the vast amounts of alcohol consumed that evening and the most terrific fun they had had - it all made them feel quite drowsy. 

Robert pressed another light kiss on top of her head, murmuring: “I love you, my dearest one.”

“I love you, Robert,” Cora replied, her voice starting to slur considerably more than before.

Just when she had finished that short sentence, she fell into a deep slumber. He could tell by her deep and even breaths, even in the darkness that had fallen over the room since the fire had died, that she was asleep in his arms.

With a satisfied smile on his face, Robert, too, fell asleep, knowing that they finally bridged the divide that had kept them apart for far too long. Things would finally all look better in the morning - if one was to ignore the imminent pounding headaches they would surely be experiencing.

#downton abbey #cobert #cora crawley #robert crawley #fanfiction #drabble #cobert give me life #one shot

[lycheesuwa]

End Story: Golden

Listen to: Daylight (Taylor Swift: LOVER album)

Osamu x Reader x Suna [Fluff/ Angst]

Summary: The closure

Ft. Watanabe siblings, Kita Shinsuke

link to part 8 | series masterlist | My masterlist

Natsuki’s glowing. She's dressed in a soft pink and red kimono that flows around her ankles. “How am I so lucky?” Natsuki whines to you as the professional make-up artist does her face.

You smile at her. “You're lucky because you found your soulmate, Natsuki.”

“As if ya didn't,” she giggles to you. “When d’ya think ’Samu’s gonna propose?!”

“We're not in any rush,” You shake your head. You and Osamu have just moved in together, since Natsuki moved out to live with Kita. The move across the street was hardly an issue, but the small Hyōgo apartment had been much, much kinder to you than the cities you've lived in, and you know you’ll miss it sometimes.

“Do ya think you and ’Samu woulda gotten together sooner if ya met in uni?” Natsuki asks.

You pause to consider her question. “Maybe,” you say. A lot of the pain and frustration you had would be spared, but your love with Osamu is sweet and golden instead of the cold blue that Suna brought you. Osamu holds you when you sleep and always makes you breakfast in the morning. He’ll hold your hand on the street and even introduced you to his brother as ‘ma girlfriend, (Y/n).’ Osamu is everything you never knew you needed in a partner.

“I'm glad ya found someone fer ya,” Natsuki smiles at you. “And I know that Shin is glad fer ya guys too.”

You give her a smile as her face brightens at mentioning her soon-to-be husband.

When you walk to the front of the altar behind some of Natsuki’s highschool friends you met once before the bachelorette party, you catch Osamu’s smile from the middle of the groomsmen’s line. You know you have to walk next to Rēn, one of Kita’s closer friends, but you catch Osamu mouthing at you, “beautiful.”

Natsuki’s crying when Kita reads his homemade vows and she barely gets through hers. Apparently they had more interactions in highschool than anyone knew about, and even through university. They are so infatuated with each other you're surprised she even applied to jobs around Shizuoka city, even though you know that's where her brother was. Regardless of the journey, they made it here today, standing together to be united for the rest of their lives.

The second he gets to the end of the willow branches that are bent over to make an archway, Osamu picks you up in a hug, and nestles his face into the crook of your neck, leaving a small kiss. “You look so beautiful today,” he murmurs.

“You look so handsome,” you say back, running a hand along his shoulder over the amber-red of his Yukata.

As everyone breaks from the Watanabe house to prepare for the reception held at Kita’s house, you find Osamu and yourself helping clean up a little before the festivities move. 

“Hey, (Y/n),” a low voice says to you.

You turn and see Suna standing there. 

Suna's eyes are ochre in the bright sunlight. His hair is getting long, bangs brushing his eyes instead of resting above his eyebrows like he prefers for games. He’s wearing a light grey yukata, and holding a small box as a gift for Kita and Natsuki.

He showed up alone. You don't see the girl from a year ago with him, although you hadn't seen her at all. Maybe she hadn't chosen either him or Atsumu, something that makes your heart ache for both of the men.

“Hello, Suna-san,” you say. You feel Osamu’s gaze on you, and turn to wave your hand towards him. You've been posting pictures at Onigiri Miya more often, and hinted at moving, and you'd be surprised if Suna doesn't know. “Are you well?”

“I am. It's nice to see you're doing well, too.”

Osamu slides his hand along your waist, to rest under your obi wrapper. “Shii-chan couldn't make it back ta Japan?” Osamu asks him.

Suna shakes his head. “She's on a business trip at the moment.”

Osamu nods thoughtfully. “I’m gonna start tha’ car. I'll be waitin.”

He turns and you catch his face, pulling him in for a quick kiss. “I'll be there soon.”

When you turn back to Suna he’s grinning. “I figured,” he muses.

You hum, not sure of what to say to him.

“I'm sorry I was a jerk to you all those years,” Suna says.

You hold your hand up. “Stop, Suna-san. It's okay, I know you had a lot going on with the other girl and volleyball. And now that I have Osamu… I'm seriously happy.”

“I'm glad,” Suna let out a breath he was holding. “Are you going to get married?”

You shrug and turn for the car. “Some day. C’mon, today is Natsuki and Kita-san’s day.”

Suna tucks his hands into the folds of his Yukata, and bows his head. “You're definitely happier with ’Samu, so I'm glad I never returned your feelings.”

“That's why?” you roll your eyes. “Your ego is bigger than I thought.”

Suna chuckles along with you. “Guess so,” he mumbles.

“I spent new years with Osamu,” you tell him as you reach the car. “We watched the sun rise together… and I think that's when I realized I need to be with someone who I can stand in the sun with, instead of hiding me in the shadows.”

“I was really  a jerk,” Suna says softly. He opens the back door to climb in. “You look better in the light, anyway. More… gold, or something.”

You lean over the console to kiss Osamu’s cheek. “What's this about being golden?” he asks, taking your hand.

You gesture at the field before the car, the grasses lighting up under the sunlight. Slowly you lift his hand to your lips. “You are my light, and golden love, Miya Osamu.”

Fin.

Thank you all so much for sticking with me through this mini series! Hope you all enjoyed it~

(also i made the banners go me :3)

#miya osamu #osamu #haikyuu osamu #osamu x reader #x reader #fluff #osamu fluff #osamu x reader x suna #haikyuu!! #suna angst #sunriseminiseries #lychee.suwa

[softlyapocalytpic]

Deacon

My interpretation of Deacon is very much in the camp of, “every good lie has a seed of truth”. Got no idea if that what makes a good lie, but I think it’s a fun story telling device so idc. I never want to take away from him being a liar because it feels like it’d be a disservice to his character, but from his dialogue it feels like there’s always that grain of truth. Rather than just flat out lies, he twists the truth. The only time it ever feels flat out is when you’re supposed to doubt him, (like that he’s been to Greenland or played cards with Mr. House). It’s wacky, outlandish, and he plays it straight because that’s apart of the joke.

Because at his heart he’s a goofball! I think that Deacon shows more of who he truly is than he realizes by the mere fact that he doesn’t really know who that is anymore. If you spend sometime time as the lie, when does it become the truth?

He’s so edgy in own head, but I think that his true colors show from his actions which are usually spent either a) protecting the people he loves, or b) keeping their spirits high. He may be cynical, but he doesn’t want to be. He admires optimism and hope and surrounds himself in it, and I think some of it rubs off on him when he isn’t looking.

How can he not? The way that I can hear his voice SPARKLE after you blow up the Institute… Like the whole world has just taken on a new brighter shade. But also the way that he fights, and he fights, and he fights even in the darkest hours of the Railroad. At times I think he feels beaten down and broken, like he couldn’t get up again, but then he looks at these beacons of hope like Dez, Glory, and everyone else and he can’t help it! While he definitely has the “man loses last bit hope he didn’t know he had” moment, he doesn’t stay in the darkness. He’s magnetized to the light. Something something a lantern in the dark hehe.

Piper

I’ve fallen in love a little bit with almost all of the Fallout 4 companions, and Piper is the latest 💞. I made a conscious effort to spend more time with her on my survival play through and she’s just so charming. Bethesda knew what they were doing and they got my pansexual ass hook, line, and sinker. She’s sweet, and awkward, and passionate, and quirky, and goofy, and driven. What’s there not love?

I think my Piper is definitely a reflection of what I’m feeling like in my early twenties, except a more fantasized “country girl in the big apple vibes” version. Life is an adventure, and oh fuck being an adult with responsibility is difficult. I care so much about my community yet feel so isolated for one reason or the other. She’s fighting for justice but doesn’t have it all together yet. She trips, stumbles, and is learning.

I think the biggest roadblock for loving her character had been the contradiction of being ostensibly pro-synth but also lambasting McDonough for being a synth publicly. However, when I took a look at that as a character arc I really began to appreciate her!

Piper’s point was never to promote synth hate, and I’m so compelled by her grappling and dealing with the fact that she did. That her constant strive to deliver the unabashed truth, along with her (rightful) disdain of McDonough as a person meant that she helped the paranoia. That she made synths the bad guys rather than the Institute at large. Her seeing the toll of a full out war with propaganda from all sides, and developing another layer to her belief system. An awareness of her words and how they effect people.

Cait

I know that for some character arcs it’s about learning to be okay in your own body, on your own, but it’s SO important to me that Cait ends her story with someone absolutely smitten for her. It doesn’t matter the gender (although I’m personally partial to a girlfriend for her), she needs someone to hold her. To be patient with her. To call her out on her shit when she’s being dumb, and stand by her through the roughest parts of her journey. I want her to feel warm, and safe, and held and to be surrounded by people who love and appreciate her.

Also want her to have a complicated relationship with drugs that isn’t easy, but that she feels like she has agency and choice over. That she doesn’t need to feel ashamed for her drug use! That sure she’s got baggage but she’s so worth carrying it. I want Cait to live an easy breezy life where she’s surrounded by laughter.

(Man I guess this was less meta and more me wanting to give Cait nice things lmao).

In such a bad mood after reading something that I won’t say more about because I don’t care for engaging in internet discourse! So instead I wanna post something positive! These are just some thoughts on a couple of the companions. Definitely not the full breadth of my thoughts, but I’m kinda just not in the mood to be critical right now. Just need something good to cheer me up. Hope it can do the same for you!

My interpretations generally tend towards the sweeter more optimistic end, and I’m aware of that. But I stand by them none-the-less. I want the wasteland to become a softer place, not a harder one, and I think that while characters start out in dark places they can be lifted out of that. Fallout already spends so much time really showing off the depths of the horrors of humanity and I think that it needs to foster hope. Hope and growth give meaning to the struggle. The violence may be pointless but then we can choose to be different. Idk y’all it’s nearly two in the morning and I just want some feel goods after being absolutely STEAMED.

If you wanna join in on the fun and add your own thoughts I’d love to hear them. About these guys or any others. I just picked a random three myself. It can be angsty! I just ask to keep things respectful and compassionate in how you talk about it.

#fallout 4 #fallout 4 deacon #fallout 4 cait #piper wright #headcanons #meta #my hopes and dreams