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kiribaku-queen · 3 years

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The Blood King and his Queen [10]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Romance, Angst, Drama

Word count: 3.6K

TIGGER WARNING: 18+ scene, first time, taking virginity, vanilla sex. If you are not comfortable reading smut or are NOT 18, please read up until the line!

Summary: From being a mere servant girl to marrying the scariest prince in existence, your world changed right before your eyes. Exchanging places with the princess, you knew, wasn’t going to be easy. But could you have found love on the way? Or was it never meant to be?

A/N: Happy reading my loves!

Thank you for helping me reach 1000+ followers! I have a follower event posted, if you haven't seen it! Requests are still open if you are interested. Rules are posted after this chapter and you can see them if you scroll down my page. Will be reblogging soon!

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It all felt like a dream. When you woke up from the warm, sun rays, Bakugou’s dreamy face was the first thing you saw. Eyes closed without a care in the world. You finally felt a piece and that everything was turning right for you, that this was going to be your new life.

There was nothing you wanted more than for you to be in Bakugou’s arms, and that’s where you were this very instant. His arm wrapped around you in a tight, protective hold, his face just centimeters away from you, you could feel his breath tickle your skin. He looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping. So relaxed and calm. You wonder why he couldn’t look like that all the time.

But happiness and euphoria came to a halt when you both became a lot busier. Especially since the ball was right around the corner. You were lucky if you were able to even hear his voice. He would be in bed late at night and you would miss him in the mornings because of how much of an early riser he was. Sure it was disappointing now being able to see him nowadays, but after this ball, you were going to spend the rest of your life with him. So there was no need to fret over it now.

You were walking down the hallway with Mina as she was teaching you more about how this palace ran. You got an idea of how your palace ran since you were basically everywhere. Bakugou’s palace was sort of the same concept, only a few things were different. You had to learn where everything was and how to run as queen and what better way for someone to show you than Mina. She was close to the Blood Prince so she had a good idea of how the palace ran. She was telling the history of the royal family, their ups and downs and their legacy. Mina was deep into conversation when a hand covered your mouth and brought you to a secluded area nearby. You make a sound of shock, but because the hand muffled the sound of your voice, Mina didn’t notice and continued walking on.

You were expecting your back to be slammed against the wall, but you were surprised when a hand gently stopped the impact. You came face to face with the one and only Blood Prince who had a smirk on his face.

“Katsuki!” your eyes welled up with tears and you immediately pulled him in for a tight hug. God, you missed his touch, his warmth, his everything. Bakugou hugged you just as tightly. He pulled away to give you a chaste kiss upon your lips. You couldn’t help but melt into him, your knees falling weak. Thankfully, Bakugou still had a good grasp on you.

“I missed you,” he breathed, letting your foreheads rest together.

“You stole my line,” you joked, kissing him again. This time, Bakugou was smiling into the kiss.

“Shouldn’t you being your princely duties,” you reminded him, trying to pull away but Bakugou wasn’t done with you just yet. He kept trying to kiss you despite you physically pulling away to talk to him. When he started getting frustrated with your refusal to kiss him, he started attacking your jaw line and your neck.

“Katsuki~” you whined.

“Let’s just enjoy this moment. I don’t have much time before they notice I’m gone,” he said in between kisses.

“You missed me that much?” you teased and you expected Bakugou to give you some snarky remark but he admit it.

“I missed you so much. I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he came back up to your lips, claiming you as his. He pushed your bodies together, your lips never leaving each other at that point. You both craved each other. After getting that first kiss out of the way, you weren’t afraid to kiss each other all you want. It was almost an addiction. The flavour of his lips made you crave for more. You were too immersed in each other that you didn’t notice a pink haired soldier giving you the death stare. Obviously, you weren’t going to look at her direction any time soon, so she cleared her throat, making her presence known.

“Are you done yet?” she asks, startling the both of you. You were quick to pull away from embarrassment that you got caught. But Bakugou, on the other hand, just stared at her while still saying in his pose: one arm around your waist while the other was bracing the wall. Mina didn’t hesitate to grab you, pulling you to her side.

“If you’ll excuse me, your highness, but I’ll have to take my girl back. I was in the middle of a lesson and if she’s going to be your queen, she’s gonna need to know this stuff!” she scolded her future King. She took your hand and personally escorted you away so she could finish what she was saying.

“Tch,” Bakugou smirked, finally standing tall and watched as his most trusted soldier took you away. Mina was the only person, besides Kirishima, who was allowed to be that sassy with him. He took another moment to look at your retreating figure before joining the rest of his soldiers who were resting against the wall, waiting for his highness to be done with his business.

As Mina had her hand in yours and continued to talk your head off, you kept looking back behind you at Bakugou. Mina noticed that you still weren’t paying attention and stopped in her tracks. Her eyes traveled to where yours was and her eyes softened.

“Are you listening to me?” she playfully scolded, placing both of her hand on her hips as if she was mad.

“Yes, ma’am,” you said sadly, giving her your best puppy dog eyes. Mina knew those eyes but she wasn’t going to fall for them so easily. Bakugou’s figure was quickly disappearing, but Mina wasn’t budging. So you jutted your bottom lips out, adding to the effect and pleaded to her. Mina knew that she was going to let you go but just wanted to give you a hard time.

“Alright, just one!” she allowed and your face just brightened up. You dashed down the hall, as quickly as you could in that dress, straight into Bakugou’s arms.

Bakugou didn’t sense it at first. He thought your little makeout session was the last he was going to see you until after his work was done. He wasn’t expecting you to make a run for it down the hall to him. Bakugou only turned around when he heard running coming closer to him. As soon as he turned around, you jumped into his arms and gave him one last passionate kiss.

Mina smiled softly as the sight, her heart full of happiness and love for the both of you. Kirishima and the boys looked away respectfully to give you guys space. Sero had to slap Denki’s face away because he was just staring so obviously.

Before Bakugou could relax into the kiss, you already pulled away and returned to Mina’s side. For the first time in his life, he had no words to say. He could only stare at you in disbelief, but in the good way. He smiled, shaking his head and continued on his way in an incredibly good mood.

You returned to Mina’s side, feeling accomplished and you both giggled like little girls.

“Okay, okay. You’ve had your fun, your highness. But I really need to tell you about this war because I think it’s so interesting and I think you’d really like it. So…” Mina babbled on, getting really excited to talk about the history of the Kingdom. Of course you were listening but your mind still wandered to a particular blonde prince that had your heads in the clouds.

You were back in Bakugou’s room, getting ready for bed. You looked in the mirror, brushing your hair out and lost in thought. The date until you officially marry Bakugou was fast approaching and still, you hadn’t told him your biggest secret. Whether you tell him now or later, he was going to be angry. Nothing was happening yet. You don’t think the real princess knows. If she did, you were sure you’d be back at the palace by now. So were you safe? There is never going to be a right time to tell him. But was it best that you took this secret to your grave? Could you handle all the guilt? No. You had to tell him. Tonight, you decided.

You had just finished brushing out your hair when you saw Bakugou enter your room, making you gasp in surprise.

“You’re back already?” you asked, getting up to greet him at the door. He welcomed you with open arms, taking in your scent.

“I’ve got to get plenty of rest for tomorrow,” he said. Ah, that’s right. The ball to celebrate your engagement was tomorrow. Already?

“Oh, so you didn’t come back early because you missed me but because you were getting ready for tomorrow. I see,” you huffed playfully, crossing your arms and walked away. Bakugou grabbed your arm before you could walk completely away from him and pulled you in close.

“Stop. You know I missed you,” he said seriously. Your hand touched his bare chest, his warm radiating from his body made your heart race. No matter how many time you could see him shirtless or how many times you’ve touched him, it would still bring butterflies to your stomach.

The same thing could be said for Bakugou. It didn’t help that you were wearing a loose, fitting nightgown, leaving everything up for the imagination. Granted, he had already seen your naked body once, but it was only a glimpse. He didn’t get a good look before so he could only imagine what it would be like when you were under him, taking your naked form all in.

Bakugou scoops your face in his large palms, bringing you close to him until he places his lips on yours, the fluttering feeling in your stomach only intensifying. He broke the kiss for both of you to catch your breaths and claimed your lips as his again. His kisses felt different, like they had a purpose. His hands started roaming around your body, making you feel hot all over. It started on your back, then slowly caressed down to your waist and then over the curves of your ass. Your mind was filled with thoughts of him that it was driving you mad.

Bakugou wasn’t satisfied with just kissing you. He was craving more. Hungry for more, he moved on to kiss your neck but you tried to stop him.

“Wait, I need to tell you something first,” you grabbed onto his shoulders, but the way he moved his lips and how his tongue swiped against your skin was making you almost forget what you were about to say.

“Do you trust me?” he breathed, detaching from your neck momentarily.

“O-Of course I trust you. But it’s kind of important,” you said.

“Kind of. Surely it can wait till the morning,” Bakugou continued attacking you with kisses.

“But Katsuki-” Bakugou interrupted you by completely stopping his actions to look you dead in the eyes with the most serious expression.

“Do you trust me?” he asks again. You stared into those crimson orbs of his and sighed.

“I trust you. But-” you couldn’t finish your thought because Bakugou had turned you around so that you could see yourself in the mirror.

“Whatever it is you have to say, it can wait till morning. Right now, to me, there’s nothing more important than making sure you feel like a queen,” he declared, looking at you from the mirror.

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

Bakugou starts kissing your neck again, his soft lips coming into contact with your bare skin sent chills down your spine. You allowed yourself to submit to his touch, closing your eyes to heighten your senses to his touch.

Gently and deliberately, his hands moved to the back of your gown, untying the bow. He fingers wrapped around the silk fabric, feeling every knot come undone. He goes slow, feeling the curvature of your waist, then your lips, then all the way back to your shoulders. He takes his time removing your gown, admiring your bare shoulders and back that were now exposed. Your gown falls with a soft swish to the floor. The cold air made you shiver but Bakugou made up for it by his roaming hands that were so warm to the touch.

He feels up on your naked body again, this time roaming up the front, groping your breasts in his hands and then caressing your neck. His mouth moved from your neck to your shoulders. You could feel his tongue swipe against your skin for a more tingling sensation. You didn’t want to waste another minute. You turn around and kissed him. He holds you tightly in his arms, kissing you back with the most love. You pull him closer to you, guiding him to the bed.

You fell onto the bed, his arms falling on both sides of your head. Bakugou climbs on top of you, removing his cape swiftly without disconnecting the kiss. He then scoops you up in his arms, you hands fall to rest on his cheeks and the back of his neck. Your tongues tangoed together in a lover’s dance.

God, what was happening right now? You were completely naked, Bakugou was half naked at the moment. The ambiance of the room was intense and clearly getting more heated by the second. You had no idea what you were doing nor did you know what was going to happen. Everything was happening so fast, you didn’t have time to think. All you knew is that you didn’t want to stop. Your lower region became numb and tingly. You’ve never felt this sensation before. Everything was so new. Your mind was all fuzzy with thoughts of him, it was driving you crazy.

One hand roamed down to your waist while the other hand was busy doing something else. You could hear him fiddling around with his pants and the sound of it coming off. Almost immediately you could feel something hard hit your inner thighs. You jumped in shock, only imagining what it was.

You didn’t know anything about sex. You were so coped up in the palace walls and you weren’t educated on anything. The only thing you remember growing up was that you shouldn’t show your body to anybody but your partner. And that was only if you were married. But what were you doing now? You weren’t not married yet Bakugou was devouring you all over. His touch was so addicting and he was touching you in all of the right places. An unfamiliar feeling started in the pit of your stomach and there was an aching feeling in between your legs.

Bakugou broke away from the breathless kiss, saliva connecting your tongues together. He takes this time to admire your bare body. He never noticed how curvaceous you were, you were just perfect. Your chest was heaving up and down, making his eyes move to the mounds of your breasts. Your nipples were erect from how turned on you were feeling. Bakugou couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight. Then he ventured lower and he almost groaned when your legs were already spread, ready to take him in. It was making him even more hard.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he whispers. He licks his hand and started pumping his cock. If he didn’t do something soon, his cock would explode for being neglected. He moves closer to your entrance but before he could put it in, you stop him by putting your hands on his chest.

“What are you doing?” you asked, panic starting to rise in you.

“You trust me, don’t you?” he asks. You nod your head. “I promise, I’ll make you feel so good. It’ll hurt for just a bit.” He warned. You take a deep breath, putting all your trust in him. He glances up at you. When you looked ready, he slid his dick inside you, all of it and fast. You take a sharp intake, surprised by his action and how much it hurt. So much so that you feel it in your throat. You grab onto his forearms for dear life. He leans down into you and whispers in your ear.

“Breathe, my princess. Just breath,” he tries to direct you. And so you do as you’re told. Bakugou doesn’t move and just stays still to let you adjust to his size. Slowly, you start to relax. You let your shoulders fall and allow your body to fully ease. The tightness around his cock eventually became looser. That indicated to Bakugou that that was a sign to move. Bakugou slowly thrusts into you. The feeling of pain was still there in the start, but the more you relaxed, the more you felt that pain turn into pleasure.

You started to moan, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. You’ve never felt like this before. It was all new, but making you crave more of his touch.

Bakugou groans loudly at the pleasure. He loved the sounds coming out of your mouth, the loved how your tits bounced up and down from each thrust. But he loved how you clenched around him more. Fuck, he wasn’t expecting you to be so tight. You felt so warm and despite not prepping you beforehand, you were so wet. The sounds of your slick folds meeting his cock were sinful. Suddenly, Bakugou snaps his hips into you, making him go deeper inside you. You moaned loudly and threw your head back.

“You like that?” Bakugou’s voice was raspy. You nod your head enthusiastically, almost impatiently.

“I love that,” you respond. “Do it again.” You begged. Bakugou smirks and does it again. He lets his cock be free from your clench before slamming back into you. You moan loudly again and clench around him even tighter.

“Fuck,” he curses, continuing to slam his hips into you.

Your servant girls were nosy, as all servants were. They wanted to know the gossip. The girls were right at your door, ears pressed against the giant wooden frame. They were listening in and giggling to each other. Two masculine figures appeared behind them, clearing their throats intentionally. The mighty soldiers, Kirishima and Denki, made their presence clear. They looked intimidating, arms crossed against their chest to look cool, or at least Denki was. The girls bowed their heads and scurried off. Some of them looked back to see both of them guarding the door to give you two privacy. Denki took notice of some of the girls and gave them a flirty wave. They giggled again before leaving their sight. Denki smirked and tried to give Kirishima fist, but Kiri denied it, smacking his hand away with an eye rolls and shake of the head. Denki shrugs his shoulder and put his hands on his belt.

Bakugou thrusts into you with more force and more power than before, moans are filling the air, both yours and his. You claw at his back trying to get something to grab but you’re just leaving markings on him, which he doesn’t mind. All of a sudden, Bakugou pulls out, panting and clear frustration painted all over his face.

“Fuck, not yet,” he panted, holding his cock in his hands. You didn’t know what he meant by that, but you whimpered at the loss of contact. Wanting to feel something, you grabbed his face and brought him in for a kiss. The prince groans into the kiss, that being his last straw. He pulled out wanting to last longer, but seeing that you were impatient and wanting more, he had to please his princess. He brought your legs around his shoulder and thrusted into you, not giving you time to breath.

“Mhm, ah!” you groaned, separating from the kiss. You felt excitement rapidly grow in your lower region, a feeling so pleasurable you had no idea how to take it.

“Wait, Katsuki. I feel too good,” you warned him in between moans.

“I’m almost there, too,” he said, going faster to chase his high.

“Ah! Fuck, wait! K-Katsuki! AH!” The pleasure was almost too much for you. The feeling was getting larger and larger until you couldn’t take it anymore and just let go. You threw your head back and clenched your eyes so hard you saw stars. Your pussy clenched around his cock so tightly that it was Bakugou’s turn to let go. With one last groan, your walls were coated in a thick, hot, white substance.

You both stood still, able to finally catch your breath. Bakugou leaned down to touch noses with you, his beath on yours. You were so high on cloud nine that you didn’t think before speaking.

“I lo-” you began but quickly realized what you were about to say. You put your hand over your mouth to prevent you from saying those three magical words. Don’t say it, you thought. If you said it, you’d never be able to take it back. Bakugou takes both of your hands and pinned them above your head.

“I love you, too,” he leans down to whisper in your ear. Tears brimmed in your eyes, threatening to spill out. Because you felt so happy. So happy that you didn’t want this dream to end.

A/N: Spoiler alert: enjoy this chapter. Enjoy every chapter so far. All that serotonin you’re feeling? Soak it all up. Because this is the last fluff chapter you will ever get 😊

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, just let me know! And I’d love to know your thoughts, what you think of the series so far and what your expectations are for upcoming chapters! Do you want a happy or sad ending? What angsty scenes are you anticipating? What do you not want to happen?

Don’t forget! My requests are open until May 9th!

1. Send in a request or headcannon of any Boku no Hero or Haikyuu characters

2. I prefer angsty requests! As for headcannons, I'm down with any genre. If you are sending in a request, please be as descriptive as possible! Its hard to write when the topic is so broad!

3. FYI if alot of the requests are the same, I will most likely combine them all or only do one or two of them since I dont want to repeat alot of the same topics. It'll get boring: not only for the reader but for me as well

4. ❌No NSFW! Not experienced enough but I can hint at some sexiness

It would be really cool if you could send in some requests! I’ll be doing all of them to the best of my ability, you won’t be disappointed!

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quickspinner · 3 years

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Oops - Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3

(See part 1 for summary and warnings)

Marinette was having a hard time keeping her mind on girls’ night. Rose and Juleka had just signed a new lease to move in together in the coming month, and it should have been exciting, but somehow she just couldn’t get into the discussions about decor and whose couch they should keep and how many dishes they really needed.

Marinette had other things on her mind.

Her phone buzzed in her hand and she glanced at the others quickly before turning it over.

Sorry, babe, I’ve got a gig that day. Wish I could.

Marinette bit her lip, trying not to be upset. She started to type a reply, when another set of messages came in.

You could come if you want We could go home together after Just go easy on the drinks this time ;)

Marinette giggled, but sent back You sure? I won’t be in the way?

I’d want you there even if you were. You’re small, we can stick you in an instrument case if we need to

Marinette laughed aloud at that.

Should I dress up? she typed.

Anything you wear looks good on my floor. Do what makes you happy

Marinette pressed her legs together, bouncing her knees, and then sent, before she could rethink it, Doing you makes me happy.

There was a long pause before his next message, and then it was just an address and a time, followed by Can’t wait to see you Friday . And Saturday morning. Don’t make lunch plans.

Marinette gave a little squeal, hiding her face in her hands.

All of the girls were looking at her with varying expressions. Juleka and Alix looked amused, Rose excited, and Mylène just looked happy for her.

Alya was looking at her with a slow spreading grin. “Well weeeeell,” she drawled, leaning on the counter between them. “Let me guess. Setting up your next booty call with your new boytoy?”

There was enough truth in that to make Marinette blush deeply. Alya cackled.

“Details, girl,” she said, slapping the counter. “You’ve been doing this guy for weeks now, what’s the story? He must be good to still put that dopey look on your face after all this time.”

“What—n-no!” Marinette spluttered, looking at the rest of the girls. Juleka was rolling her eyes while Rose and Mylène covered giggles. Alix had that same amused expression as she shook her head slightly. “I’m not gonna talk about that,” Marinette insisted. “It’s none of your business!”

“Come on, Mari, spill,” Alya said, leaning forward again. “It can’t be that embarrassing. Does he fuck you up against a wall with all your clothes on and call you a naughty girl?”

Marinette choked, and Alya laughed.

“Oh, Marinette, you’re such an innocent,” she chortled, sitting back with a smirk like she had gained some kind of victory.

Marinette’s face burned with both shame and...anger. How dare Alya dismiss her just like that? Like they were still silly teenagers and Marinette couldn’t even talk to a guy, let alone take him home and—suddenly she realized she was tired of Alya’s patronizing, and on top of that, she felt insulted on Luka’s behalf. Taking a breath, Marinette straightened her shoulders and put on the best air of nonchalance she could manage despite her red face. “He probably would, if I asked him to,” she said airily. “But he really likes to take his time for that part.” Summoning up every ounce of the boldness Luka inspired in her, she blurted, “If he wants to make me come fast and hard, he uses his hands.”

The entire room went silent as they all stared at her. Pretending like she didn’t feel like she was going to throw up from nerves and embarrassment any second, Marinette added dreamily, “He has amazing hands.”

Alya raised her eyebrows, clearly amused and at least half disbelieving. “Not his tongue?”

“He’s a great kisser,” Marinette smiled, deliberately misunderstanding. Alya grinned wolfishly.

“No, girl, I mean when he e—“

“Oh, he’s great with his mouth on me too,” Marinette interrupted, eyes widening innocently. “It’s just, when he uses his hands, he can still use his voice. Mm, he has such a sexy voice.” The shudder that went through her was entirely real. “It makes me so…” she couldn’t quite bring herself to say it, and took a sip of her wine instead.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I can’t believe that you like this guy dirty-talking you,” Alya accused, narrowing her eyes as she set her cup down with a slam. “Little miss sweetness and light. You can’t even handle it when we talk about fucking.”

Marinette shrugged as if she was completely indifferent to what Alya believed. “You don’t say it like he does,” she commented, and took another sip of her drink, staring off into the distance as if she’d completely forgotten Alya was there. She was stretching the truth a bit, she knew. It wasn’t dirty talk, not really, not the way Alya was thinking. Luka didn’t have to be filthy to work her up; he could recite phone listings in that hot, growling voice, and it would be enough to put her over the edge, so when he told her she was beautiful, that he loved the way she smelled or tasted or felt or sounded, or asked what she wanted, or suggested something he wanted her to do for him, or panted out how close he was…

She shivered again.

Alya didn’t need to know that though. Marinette flicked her eyes around the others, a little nervous about their reactions. Mylène was smiling, Juleka was smirking, and Rose had her hands clasped together and was practically vibrating with excitement. Alix was snickering behind her hand.

“Aw, did Marinette just shatter all your illusions, Alya?” Alix laughed. “You just can’t handle that your oh-so-innocent bestie has a hot side piece.”

Marinette frowned. “Can you have a side piece if you don’t have a...a main piece?”

Alix patted her shoulder. “You can be your own main piece.”

“Marinette,” Alya said, putting her drink down, suddenly serious. “This isn’t like you. Just who is this guy, anyway? Does he even have a day job?”

“Yes,” Marinette frowned. “He’s a teacher.” It wasn’t a lie; Luka did teach private music lessons in addition to his performance work, but with Alya giving her that judgemental look, Marinette didn’t intend to give her any details.

“Ooh, hot for teacher, nice.” Alix reached over and, though feeling a little foolish, Marinette met her high five, but Alya looked unconvinced.

“Well, just be careful,” Alya cautioned her. “You’re still on the rebound—” Am I? Marinette found herself wondering. It didn’t feel like it, actually, when she thought about it. “—and I know you’re feeling pretty vulnerable right now and I don’t want this guy taking advantage of you. If you wanna have fun with him, whatever, but be careful what you tell him and don’t loan him any money.” She sighed. “And especially, don’t fall in love with him. He’s a good time, and that’s it, and he’ll only break your heart if you start wanting more.”

Marinette just stared at her, mouth hanging open slightly, as Alya turned away. There was a tense moment and then Rose piped up, “All right, are we ready for the movie? Let’s get started!” The girls all murmured agreement and began moving toward the living room.

Marinette put her drink down,

“Hey,” Alix said, leaning over her shoulder. “Alya’s just trying to look out for you. She didn’t mean it how it sounded, you know that. If you say this guy is cool, I believe you, but it never hurts to watch out for yourself, right?”

“Y-yeah,” Marinette managed a weak smile. “I get it. Sure.”

***

Marinette was having a shit day. One of her underlings had screwed up at work, which meant, to the bosses, that Marinette screwed up, and then she had to smile and take in the teeth from her bosses while soothing her horrified intern and trying to deal with the problems he’d caused. She’d complained about it to Alya when she got home, and stupidly, she’d mentioned that knowing she had a date with Luka tonight was the only thing that got her through the day. That earned her another well-intentioned condescending talking-to about being careful and not getting invested in something that was clearly only temporary. “I know you, Marinette,” Alya insisted. “He’ll say something sweet just trying to get you naked and you’ll get infatuated and start planning your whole future while the whole time he’s got one foot out the door.” Nino, who’d showed up to pick up Alya in the middle of it, had grudgingly sided with Alya over the whole thing.

“It’s not really like you, Nette,” Nino said with an uncomfortable shrug. “I mean, I don’t want to be all judgy and weird. I just…well, you’ve...” He’d trailed off and hustled Alya out the door when he saw tears in Marinette’s eyes, leaving her at least with the dignity of breaking down in private.

She flopped over the arm of the couch and sobbed until her phone beeped a reminder at her. Luka , she thought, touching her swollen face. She couldn’t go out like this. Honestly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to anymore. She just wanted to crawl into bed and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

But she had this date, and…

Alya’s words flooded back and fresh tears fell down her face. Maybe Luka wouldn’t care if she canceled. Maybe…maybe she shouldn’t be feeling so sick about that thought. Maybe Alya was right and she was on the road to another heartbreak. Luka had never said anything, after that first day, about wanting anything more. They weren’t always having sex when they were together, they did other things, but they did always end up in bed eventually. But that didn’t mean anything! Right? Maybe—Marinette sighed. Maybe she didn’t need anything else to spiral about tonight, thanks so much, Alya. Why wasn’t she allowed to just have fun without Alya telling her what was best for her? She enjoyed spending time with Luka, and yeah, he made it clear he enjoyed all the... intimate things they did, but that didn’t mean—

Focus , she reminded herself, wiping her eyes again. She still had a date tonight that she was in no condition to go to, and if she didn’t call soon Luka would already be on his way to meet her.

She took a couple of deep breaths to steady herself and called him.

“Hey, beautiful, what’s up?” Luka asked, his smooth voice light and cheerful.

“Hi,” Marinette squeaked, and then gulped down a sob. Shit, she should have texted, she sounded awful.

Luka’s tone shifted immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“N-nothing major, I just...I had a really bad day and...I don’t think I’m up for our date tonight. I’m so sorry, I know it’s really last minute, I hope you haven’t left yet, I just—” She caught a tear on her hand and wiped it away, trying not to sniffle into the phone.

“Of course it’s okay,” Luka said, his voice low and soft. “Don’t force yourself, it’s fine. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Marinette choked, her throat tightening again.

“Okay. Well, how about if I grab some takeout and bring you dinner? I can pick up something for your roommate too if you like.”

“Oh, you don’t—you don’t have to do that. Alya’s out with her boyfriend, I’m not sure she’s even coming back tonight. I mean, you don’t have to pick up anything at all, I can just scrounge something, I'll be fine, I think we have some...some ramen or something I can make…I’m not very hungry right now anyway.” Ugh, she was a babbling idiot, why hadn’t she just texted him.

“Late lunch?”

“No…” Marinette frowned, trying to think. “I don’t think I ate lunch.”

“Thought so,” Luka chuckled.

“B-but—I—“

“I don’t have to stay if you’d rather be alone,” Luka told her, his voice so full of sympathy that she wanted to cry all over again. “But at least let me bring you something to eat. It’s not like I had other plans. What’s your favorite food to cry into?” His tone turned teasing. “I can at least bring you some real ramen instead of the instant stuff, if that’s really what you want.”

Marinette bit her lip, picturing for a moment the congee she used to get at the shop by her old office. She loved it, because it reminded her of her mother’s, but she hadn’t had in in ages because they didn’t deliver to this part of town, and—

“Anything you want,” Luka told her softly. “Come on, what are you thinking about?”

“It’s out of your way,” Marinette said, shifting on her couch. “I...give me just a second, I’ll think of something, um…”

“Marinette,” Luka said, a touch of amusement in his voice. “Just tell me what you want. I’m all over this town for gigs all the time, a few extra subway stops won’t kill me.”

She told him, and gave him directions.

“Okay. I’ll go pick it up and be there as soon as I can. You take a nice long bath or a shower, or at least wash your face, okay? Get comfortable for a night in.”

Marinette smiled a little at his prescription, and whispered, “Okay.” She sat there a few minutes longer after they hung up, trying to gather enough caring to get up and do as he suggested. Finally she made it up off the couch, and drifted into the bathroom.

She cried more in the shower, but she did feel better after standing in the hot water, which at least relieved some of the stiffness and stinging of her face and eyes, and helped her breathe easier. She sat on her bed wrapped in her towel for a long moment, feeling limp and languid, but if she was sitting here naked when Luka showed up, he’d probably think she wanted some other kind of comforting, and she just wasn’t sure she felt like it tonight. She dug out one of her more modest nightgowns, made of thin, soft fabric that fell to her calves, with wide straps and a shallow scoop neck that covered most of her chest. It was still pretty, because Marinette liked pretty things, but it wasn’t seductive or anything like that.

Not that she was in any condition to seduce anybody, she thought, as she pressed her fingers below her aching eyes. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to let Luka come over. Would it hurt his feelings if she made him leave the food at the door?

Marinette had almost decided to do just that when she heard him knock. She paused with her hand on the doorknob, and then sighed. Well, if her puffy, blotchy face and stuffed up nose grossed him out and he didn’t want to see her anymore, then at least that would be one less thing for Alya to bitch at her about, she thought as she opened the door.

Luka’s expression shifted from concern to sympathy as soon as she came into view. “Aw, come here,” he said, reaching for her as he stepped inside. Marinette let him wrap his arm around her and leaned into him as he squeezed her. He kept her under his arm as he walked to the table, where he put the bag of food down and then turned to embrace her fully, folding her in a tight hug, as he swayed slightly and rubbed her back. It felt amazing, actually, and Marinette pressed her face into his chest, inhaling his scent and enjoying the firm feel of him, warm and solid.

“You want to eat at the table or somewhere else?” he asked.

“Couch?” she mumbled into his chest, and he steered her over to it.

“Sit down then, and I’ll get it all ready.”

He brought her the bowl a few minutes later, sitting down next to her as he made sure she had a grip on it before he let go. “Do you want me to go?” he asked, tucking a damp lock of hair back from her face. “Or would you rather have some company? I won’t be offended, if you’d rather be alone.”

Marinette looked up at him and opened her mouth, and then changed her mind, looking down with a blush. “Actually some company sounds nice,” she mumbled.

Luka smiled, and leaned forward to kiss her temple gently. “Let me grab my food then.”

When he returned with his plate, he sat next to Marinette and put his arm around her shoulders. Marinette cuddled against his side, tucking her feet under herself. She admired the ease with which Luka balanced his plate on his knee as he ate, but then from some of the stories he’d told her she supposed he was probably used to eating in weird places

The congee felt good on her raw throat, and she ate almost the whole bowl before she sighed and set it on the coffee table to snuggle more firmly against Luka’s side. He’d already finished, and he put both arms around her. She told him a little bit about her day, leaving out the details of the argument with Alya, and Luka made sympathetic noises and kissed her forehead.

Alya’s wrong about him , Marinette thought, tucking her face against his neck. He’d never treat anyone the way she thinks, even if it was only physical. He’s too sweet. And I don’t...I don’t think that’s what this is. I think...maybe he really meant what he said at the cafe. Maybe he still does. She took a shaky breath, and Luka’s face turned a little closer to hers, so she knew he was listening.

Marinette chickened out. “Could we...maybe get in bed and watch a movie?”

“Sure, I’d love that.” Luka smiled. “What’s your favorite thing to watch when you feel crappy?”

Marinette blushed. “You’ll laugh.”

Luka grinned. “So what if I do? If you like it, that’s all that matters. Be selfish tonight, Marinette.”

Luka followed her to her bedroom, and his eyebrows shot up when she produced a dusty old DVD with a picture of a bus on it. “Speed?” he said, sitting on the bed, and then bit his lip. He held up a finger, turned away from Marinette, and buried his face in her pillow as he laughed. Marinette grabbed her other pillow and whacked him with it.

“I told you you’d laugh,” she pouted as Luka pushed himself up and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I love Keanu Reeves.”

“Give it here, and get comfy,” he told her, getting up. Marinette gave him the movie, and he put it in as she tossed the blanket back to the bottom of the bed and got under the sheet. Then she had an internal panic attack as Luka kicked off his shoes and socks and shimmied off his jeans. Oh, maybe she should have—but he’d never have been comfortable if she made him stay dressed, and it didn’t mean they were going to…Stupid, they could have stayed on the couch, why did she invite him to bed?

Barely thinking, Marinette caught the hem of his shirt just before he went to pull it off. “Can you...leave it on?” she asked, and blushed when he looked at her quizzically. “I really like cuddling with you but I...I just—”

“Just?” Luka asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Never mind, it’s stupid,” Marinette sighed, letting go, and feeling like an idiot. “You should be comfortable.

“So should you,” Luka said, sitting back down on the bed. “I can wear a shirt if you want, it’s no big deal.” He reached over and smoothed back her hair—now mostly dry, thankfully. “Is something wrong? You know you can tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable.”

Oh, she was the worst. He was so kind to her and she was the worst , and how could she admit anything like this to him? Marinette hung her head, and told a truth that wasn’t the truth. “I just...don’t like it when our skin sticks together,” she confessed, and then put her hands over her face. “I’m so sorry. Forget I said anything. I’m being stupid.”

“I’m not forgetting anything,” Luka laughed, sliding under the sheet beside her. “Why are you acting like you did something wrong?”

“It’s...not very romantic,” Marinette sighed, wrinkling her nose.

Luka rolled his eyes. “I’d rather you be comfortable than preserve some imaginary aesthetic that no one but us would even be aware of. I don’t mind wearing my shirt or keeping the sheet pulled up if it makes you more comfortable.” He slid down a bit, and stretched his arm out towards her. Marinette snuggled up next to him again, and sighed contentedly as she rested her cheek against his chest, glad that he wore a soft, slightly worn t-shirt instead of a crisp dress shirt.

“Comfy now?” he asked, his hand sliding up to massage the back of her neck.

“Mm,” she agreed, and leaned into his touch with a hum. Eventually they slithered down to lay flat in the bed, Luka curling against her back with his head on her pillow, murmuring sly comments about the movie every now and then that made Marinette giggle, and occasionally reach back to elbow him when she thought he was getting too far out of line. No one, she told him, dissed Keanu in her bed.

“Yes ma’am,” he agreed, laughing into her hair before he kissed the top of her head. Marinette smiled.

It was nice, having him snuggled up against her, his teasing voice in her ear, and Marinette’s mood was lifting with each passing moment. She found herself focusing on his broad hand resting on his stomach, his breath tickling the back of her neck, and the warmth of him behind her, the brush of his chest against her back when he breathed. Heat began to pool low in her belly, and her breathing quickened. She pressed back a little, just enough that her back was resting against her chest now, and Luka nuzzled her neck, placing a little kiss below her ear before settling again. Marinette sighed, annoyed with herself. Here she had been worried about giving him the wrong idea, but now that she was comfortable and relaxed, she was starting to change her mind.

Marinette sniffed experimentally, and found she was breathing much better. She shifted slightly, biting her lip, and then rolled over to face Luka. He blinked at her a little sleepily, and then he smiled. “I’m glad you didn’t revoke my bed privileges. I’m really comfortable right now,” he murmured. “You look like you’re feeling better.” .

“I am,” she said, and wiggled a little closer, her body already warming at the thought of his touch. She leaned up and kissed him, and any hesitation she’d still been feeling vanished at the soft feel of his mouth against hers. It seemed to wake Luka up too, because his hand went to her face and he returned her kiss with equal enthusiasm. Marinette caught hold of his shirt, and tugged him closer when he would have leaned back. “Can I be selfish, Luka?” she breathed, and felt him shudder as she kissed him again. “Even after all you’ve done for me? Can I ask for more?”

“Always,” he rumbled, rolling up onto his elbow to follow her as she kept tugging on his collar, wiggling to get beneath him. She gasped as he pressed against her, and arched her body up into his, suddenly feeling desperate. Had he been turned on this whole time and said nothing? Alya is so wrong about him.

“Comfortable , huh?” she teased, and Luka grinned sheepishly.

“I was,” he defended, “Mostly. I can ignore it when I have to, and you didn’t seem like you were up for much.” He kissed her softly.

“I wasn’t,” she admitted, and then rolled her hips up into him. Luka groaned, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as he grabbed at her hip, and her own eyes closed in pleasure. “I am now,” she sighed. “Please, Luka.” She shivered as she felt the fabric of her nightgown bunch under his big hands, the hem sliding up her calves and over her knees.

Alya was wrong about him, Marinette was sure, looking up into his eyes as he bent down to kiss her gently, but thoroughly. He only broke the kiss when he finally found the hem of the nightgown. “Can I take my shirt off now?” he asked teasingly as he dragged the nightgown up over her head. Marinette made a muffled sound. “What?” he laughed, but his laugh cut off when she pressed her hips up into him again.

“I said, yes please,” she told him smugly as he reached back for his collar.

Marinette settled her arms around his neck and pulled him down into her, eager now for the press of his skin against hers. Luka’s hands carded into her hair, tipping her face to the perfect angle as his mouth descended on hers again. She spared one fleeting thought fr Alya’s warnings before she gave herself up to the moment.

Alya is wrong about Luka...but she might be right about me. Maybe I am falling in love with him.

***

The movie menu screen had been playing for a while when Luka finally picked up the remote and turned the tv off. “I’m going to grab a drink,” Luka said, kissing Marinette’s jaw. “You want something?”

“Yes, please,” Marinette sighed. “I don’t think I can move yet.”

Luka chuckled and kissed her again. “Be right back.”

Grinning to himself, Luka stopped to pull his boxers and jeans on and made his way to the refrigerator, leaning down to find the water bottles he knew were tucked into the back for him. He’d gotten picky about water on the road, so Marinette, thoughtful as always, kept a few bottles of his favorite brand for him. He grabbed one and cracked it open, taking a long gulp, and then bent to reach in and grab the filter pitcher to make a glass for Marinette.

“Excuse me?”

Luka jumped and straightened, and turned around to find a woman standing in the apartment doorway, lit from the hall behind. She had one hand on her hip and the other on the doorknob, where a set of keys was still hanging.

“Hey,” he said, shutting the refrigerator door. “You must be Alya. I’m Luka. I’m Marinette’s—ah—” He’d almost said boyfriend, but he wasn’t, technically, and he suddenly realized he had no idea what word to use. “Friend,” he finally finished lamely, acutely aware of how the word hung between them as he stood there half-naked and disheveled. He lifted the water bottle to his lips again, still parched. “Sorry, we didn’t realize you were coming home tonight.”

He turned to get a glass from the cabinet, and felt Alya’s eyes on him as he poured the water for Marinette and put the pitcher back. He glanced up and, as he suspected, the look she was giving him was not one of appreciation. Luka had seen that look before and knew that she was seeing the dye and the piercings and the tattoos and not much else. He waited for her to say something, but when she didn’t seem inclined to, he shrugged. “Well, it’s nice to meet you,” he said quickly, and then made his way past her and back to Marinette’s room. “I’ll let Marinette know you’re home.”

He shut Marinette’s bedroom door behind him, blowing out a breath, and then looked at the bed.

He forgot about Alya for a moment when his eyes fell on Marinette, looking relaxed and blissfully happy, one lovely shoulder and her feet peeking out of the sheet she had tucked around herself. He could still see the marks of her earlier breakdown on her face, but she looked at peace now.

If he hadn’t already been sure he loved her, he didn’t think anything on earth would have saved him from falling in that moment.

Luka brought the water over and set it on her nightstand, then leaned over her to set his on the other one. Marinette smiled dreamily up at him, and he bent down and kissed her gently. She smiled against his lips.

“Your mouth is cold,” she told him, and giggled.

“Yours is hot,” he teased, kissing her again, a little deeper. Then he sighed. “Your, um...your roommate is home,” he told her, half-regretting it as Marinette stiffened instantly. “I kind of ran into her in the kitchen.”

Marinette bit her lip, looking up at him as a blush lit her face. “Oops,” she murmured, and then giggled in a way that said maybe she wasn’t all that sorry. Laughing, Luka all but tackled her, pressing her back into the pillows as he kissed her messily, moving his lips to her neck and collarbone when she tried to squirm away from him.

“What was that for?” Marinette giggled, pushing lightly at his chest until he propped himself up on his arms.

“You are criminally hot,” he told her, smirking when the red tinting her cheeks darkened. “Especially when you blush.” Always when she blushed, but especially now, looking so ravished and yet so sweetly pretty, shy and shameless at the same time.

He leaned down and kissed her again, more gently, and she hummed against him, kissing him twice more when he would have pulled away.

When she finally let him sit back, he asked, “Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” she said with determination, slipping her hand around the back of his neck and pulling him back down into another kiss. “Come get back in bed with me.”

Not at all unwilling, Luka shimmied out of his pants and crawled over her, slipping under the sheet and tucking it around his front before laying an arm down in invitation. Marinette shifted over to him, and Luka shivered when she moved the sheet away from between them. Instead of settling her head down on his shoulder, she kissed his chest, and his neck, and pressed herself up against him. “I don’t think you’re as done as you led me to believe,” she whispered with a teasing smile.

“Well not anymore.” Luka grinned up at her, shifting onto his back in answer to the press of his hands on her shoulders. “Feel like scandalizing your roommate?”

“Believe me, it’s her turn,” Marinette huffed, climbing on top of him, and looking up at her pretty face with smiling lips bruised from his kisses, haloed by mussed black hair he couldn’t wait to tangle his hands in again, Luka promptly forgot anyone else even existed.

Later, he was nearly asleep, curled around Marinette with the sheet tucked between them, when she whispered, “Luka?”

“Hmm?” he blinked his eyes open, though he couldn’t see much. He felt her tense, though, and moved a hand to her arm, rubbing his thumb along her skin.

“I think I’m falling for you,” she finally said, the sentence half a sigh as the air rushed out of her.

Luka froze for an instant, completely awake now, and he felt Marinette flinch and tense. Quickly he pressed his lips to the back of her neck, and slid his arm around her waist. “Let me know when you’re sure,” he murmured against her skin. “I’m waiting at the bottom to catch you.”

He felt her sigh and relax, and then she rolled, scooting up close against him and pillowing her head on his shoulder. Luka held her, rubbing her back softly, and turned his head to bury his face in the pillow to keep himself from screaming.

On his way out in the morning, Luka gave Alya a broad grin and a two-fingered salute.

***

“Girls, we have a problem,” Alya announced, plopping into a chair and slamming her to-go cup down on the table.

“Good morning to you too, Alya,” Alix muttered, face propped on her fist. “What the hell is it that you needed to talk to us about this early?”

“I met Marinette’s boytoy last night.”

Blank stares from around the table. Alya sighed. “The one night stand? The guy she’s been fucking every night she had free for the last month and more?”

Alix raised her eyebrows. “Still not seeing the point. So Marinette’s getting laid. A lot. Good for her. Wasn’t it your idea for her to get back out there in the first place?”

Alya slapped the table. “That’s just it! She’s not out there! She’s hung up on this dude and my point is that this isn’t like Marinette. You know she can’t just do random hookups. This has been going on for a month straight and you know she’s going to catch feelings, if she hasn’t already. And that guy, he—he’s not Marinette’s type . He’s got tattoos and piercings and dyed hair and his clothes are practically rags!”

“Sounds hot,” Alix observed, and Alya rolled her eyes.

“It’s not Marinette , and he’s definitely not the type who’s looking to settle down with one girl. He’s going to fuck her until she starts wanting more and then he’s going to break her heart. If we’re lucky. If we’re not, he’ll string her along with a bunch of promises, probably cheating on her the whole time, and then really break her heart. This isn’t the kind of relationship Marinette wants!” She waved her hands around for emphasis. “Marinette wants a house and a picket fence and a—a hamster. She needs husband material .”

“It does seem like Marinette wouldn’t be satisfied with a purely physical relationship,” Mylène said hesitantly. “But are you sure this man is no good? What if he does like Marinette?”

“They could totally fall in love! Opposites attract, you know!” Rose added, hooking her arm through Juleka’s with a giggle. “Maybe all Marinette needs is somebody a little bit different to take her mind off...you know. Him .”

“Rose, there’s different and then there’s different, ” Alya sighed. “Some different is okay, but picking up punk guys in nightclubs is a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“Mkay,” Alix sighed. “Even supposing we agreed with you, and I’m not saying we do, what would we even do about it?”

“What we need is a distraction,” Alya said, tapping a finger on the table as her brow furrowed in thought. “Someone who can get her mind off of her fuckbuddy and back to thinking about kids and hamsters.”

For a moment the girls sat in silence.

“Well,” Juleka said slowly, as heads turned toward her. “There’s my brother, I suppose. He just got back into town a couple months ago.”

“Oh, that’s true!” Rose exclaimed, laying a finger alongside her cheek as she thought. “Ooh, that could work, Juleka. I mean, if Marinette and this guy are in love, then she’ll just be making a new friend, right? And if Alya’s right, then there’s no harm in just introducing Marinette to someone else.”

Juleka shrugged. “Hard to say with him though, whether he’ll be into Marinette. He’ll either get bored or fall hard. He likes creative types—“

“That’s definitely Marinette,” Alix said dully.

“People who are honest—transparent, even.”

Alix snorted. “Also Marinette.”

Juleka was looking even more thoughtful. “People who don’t back down, who think outside the box...yeah, we could try it.” She shrugged. “Don’t know what Marinette’ll think of him, though.”

“He is very handsome,” Rose pointed out. “Not much like— you know , but that might work in our favor after everything. He looks a little bit like Keanu Reeves, and you know Marinette loves him.”

Juleka snorted. “He wishes he looked like Keanu Reeves.”

“They have the same vibe,” Rose defended.

Juleka just shook her head. “Well, if Marinette’s into ink and piercings and the whole bad boy look right now, it shouldn’t be a problem, anyway. Dumbass looks like the rough type but he’s a total teddy bear. Best of both worlds, I guess.”

“Okay, I’ve heard enough,” Alya declared, clapping her hands. “Plan A. Juleka and Rose are throwing a housewarming party.”

“We are?” chorused Rose and Juleka.

“We’ll invite Marinette, Juleka’s brother will be there, we get them together, and they hit it off, and she kicks her loser booty call to the curb. Problem solved.” Alya nodded firmly.

Alix dropped her head onto her arms. “What’s plan B?” she mumbled. “Seems like this whole plan could fall apart if they end up not liking each other.”

Alya waved a hand dismissively. “We’ll figure that out after we see how this one goes. I’ll have thought of something before the party.”

***

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Marinette said, tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear as she folded her laundry. “I didn’t expect to hear from you today. I thought you had plans tonight.”

“I do,” Luka replied. “I just have a few minutes and I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” Marinette frowned. “What?”

“Well, I had a very interesting conversation with my sister today,” Luka told her, and she could hear amusement in his voice. “She invited me to a party later this week. Said there’s a friend of hers she’d like me to meet. Thought we might hit it off .”

“O-oh,” Marinette managed, dropping the shirt she held. “Really?” Insecurity flooded up and threatened to drown her. Aside from that one late night conversation, they hadn’t really revisited their relationship status. She hadn’t had the courage to bring it up again. If Luka wanted to meet someone else, he was still technically free to do so, but...but she’d thought...

“Yeah, maybe you know her,” Luka laughed. “She’s in your field, after all. Some hot-shot, up and coming designer named Marinette Dupain-Cheng .”

“Oh. Oh. ” Marinette’s eyes widened, and then she frowned. “Wait, do I know your sister?”

“Well, that’s what I called to find out.” Luka snorted softly. “Know a Juleka Couffaine by any chance?”

“Juleka?” Marinette shrieked. “You’re related to—how did I not know that? Why didn’t she ever say anything? Why didn’t you?” She racked her brains, thinking back.

“Mm, generally we’ve been busy not saying other things. Gotta say Jules hasn’t exactly been on my mind when we’re together.” His low chuckle made Marinette blush.

“Right.” Marinette blushed. “And I suppose I never mentioned your name to her, and Alya just calls you—” She stopped, embarrassed.

“What?” Luka asked, humor in his voice.

“My, um...boytoy.” Luka laughed uproariously, and Marinette began to giggle again. “Or sometimes things that aren’t quite so nice. She thinks you’re not good for me. Because...because of how we met, and all. Um.” She took a breath, hesitating, but then remembered that awful feeling just moments ago when it seemed like the floor had dropped out from under her, and decided it was time to put everything on the table. “She thinks you’re just in it for the sex, and I’m going to get invested and end up getting hurt.”

“Oh, I see.” Luka drawled. “As if I haven’t been head over heels for you since the moment I saw you.” Marinette blushed, and bit her lip, but Luka went on before she could say anything. “I get it. Sounds to me like your roommate’s trying to set you up with someone who’ll take care of you. Get you away from that sex-crazed loser that’s seduced her poor little innocent bestie.”

Marinette buried her face, phone and all, into the throw pillow next to her and giggled until her sides hurt and she was gasping.

“Are you done?” Luka asked, still sounding amused, when the giggling finally subsided. “Or do I need to send someone over there to administer oxygen?”

“I’m fine,” Marinette snickered. “Listen, Luka, my friends are having a party next week and I’ve got this weird feeling they’re trying to set me up. Will you come be my date to Juleka’s party? Maybe—“ She steeled herself and took the plunge. “Maybe if I introduce them to my boyfriend , they’ll back off.

There was a moment of silence. Marinette forgot to breathe.

“I’m going to need you to say that again when we’re in the same room,” Luka said, voice deliciously deep and husky, “So I can kiss you properly. Can you come over?”

Air rushed out of her. “Aren’t you busy tonight?” she asked, and smiled at the sound of his laugh.

“Not anymore.”

“Are you sure?” she teased. “I thought you had plans.”

“Consider them cancelled,” Luka told her, “Get your gorgeous ass over here.”

She did, and after she had said it again, after the kissing and the other soft words, after the more-than-kissing, they cuddled close, happy, sated, and basking in their newly upgraded relationship. Marinette felt Luka stir and prop himself on his elbow.

“You know,” he said, his breath washing across her cheek. “I’m thinking about this party the girls are planning.”

“Do you still want to go?” Marinette asked, reaching up

“Absolutely,” he said, and then his voice dropped, making her shiver slightly as he nuzzled her ear. “But why don’t we make things a little interesting.” He whispered his plan in Marinette’s ear, and she began to giggle.

***

Juleka sighed as she looked at their new apartment, cleaned and decorated without a scrap of cardboard left in the place, and gazed with exasperated fondness on all the little finger sandwiches and appetizers Rose had spent all day making. Luka had better appreciate this, she thought, as she pasted on a smile and started letting in the guests that began to arrive in ones and twos. Well, at least Rose was happy. Any excuse to bust out the glitter and craft paper and try out all these super cute recipes she found on Pinterest.

Juleka was genuinely happy to see Luka, though, when he finally knocked on the door. Her schedule had been packed lately, which was great from a career standpoint, but she hadn’t seen as much of him as she wanted to since he’d come back from his travels. She felt a little guilty that it had taken Alya’s plotting to get her to make room on her schedule to see him.

Well, hopefully she was about to make up for it.

“Hey, Jules,” he said, kissing her cheek and then Rose’s. “Congratulations on the new place.”

“Thanks,” Juleka half-smiled, all the admission she was willing to make that she was glad to see him. She was pleased to note that he’d listened to her admonishments and dressed up. He looked nice, in a black dress shirt open at the collar and jeans that were mostly intact. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the tattoos on his arms, and the dye in his hair was bright and fresh. Good. Maybe he had half a shot with Marinette, if he didn’t open up his big mouth and screw it up.

“We’re so glad you could make it, Luka!” Rose squealed, throwing her arms around his neck. Then she drew back with a dismayed expression. “Oh, but she’s not here yet.”

Luka shrugged. “That’s okay, I’m in no hurry. I meant to tell you, I’ve...actually been seeing someone, to be honest.” He had the grace to look sheepish, and winced at the way Juleka’s eyes widened.

“What?” she asked sharply, and then smacked his arm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Luka shrugged, and Juleka’s heart sank at the stupid grin that spread over his face. “We weren’t really official until just a few days ago. After we talked about this. I don’t think I’ve put my guitar down since then except to pee, so…I kinda forgot.”

“Gross,” Juleka muttered out of habit.

“Oh,” cooed Rose, clasping her hands together, before grabbing Juleka’s arm and shaking her lightly. “Ohhh, he looks so happy!”

“I am happy,” Luka grinned. “Really, really happy. She’s amazing, I’ve never met anyone like her. It’s maybe too soon to say it, but...this could be it, you know?”

Juleka felt a little sick. She hadn’t realized she was so invested in setting up Luka and Marinette, but the crushing disappointment she now felt said she was. She liked Marinette a lot, and she loved Luka more than almost anyone else in the world, and the more she considered the idea of them together, the more she thought it could work. Even though she had told herself (and Rose) not to get her hopes up, she absolutely had.

But Luka was practically glowing, so Juleka swallowed the sick feeling and told him she was happy for him. And she was, really. She had to be happy about anything that made him smile like that. As much as she would have liked to have Marinette for a sister, she wanted Luka’s happiness over all.

She wasn’t looking forward to dealing with Alya, though. Focus. Luka was looking at her with a little hopeful half-smile on his face and Rose would kill her if she crushed his enthusiasm.

“Well, when you’re sure we won’t scare her off, bring her to dinner.” Juleka punched his arm lightly. “I have to meet the lunatic who would date you.”

“Sure, sounds good. So, is there a tour?” Luka asked with a grin, and Rose bounced on her toes before grabbing onto his arm and tugging him further into the apartment. She gave Juleka one commiserating glance behind his back before she began introducing him to the small gathering of friends in their modest living room.

Juleka sighed and stationed herself back by the door to head off Alya when she came in and warn her.

The next person to show up, though, was Marinette, which was a bit surprising. She was supposed to be coming with Alya, and she wasn’t nearly as late as she usually was. Juleka felt like pouting as she looked over Marinette. She was dressed up too, in a chocolate brown dress that hugged her figure nicely to the waist, covered with a sheer lace overlay that ran up over her neck and shoulders. The skirt hung to her knees in sheer layers edged in scallops of pink lace that were piled thick enough to cover everything important, but thin enough to tease. Her hair was loose and flowing around her shoulders, and she was smiling so cheerfully, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. She’d have been the perfect bait if the trap hadn’t already been sprung. Dammit, Luka , Juleka thought grumpily. You’re missing out, dumbass .

“I brought cookies!” Marinette said breathlessly, holding up a cellophane-wrapped platter. “You can keep the plate, I got it for you.”

Juleka mumbled her thanks, smiling at the combination of cookies shaped like roses and black bats on a platter that matched their new dishes. “Thanks, Marinette. That’s really thoughtful.”

“Of course,” Marinette grinned, bobbing on her toes a little. “I’m so excited for you guys!”

She looked so genuinely excited that Juleka had to smile. “Most everybody is here already,” Juleka told her, waving her on into the apartment. “Rose is in the back showing some people around, but she’ll be back up in a minute. Wine?”

“Please,” Marinette said gratefully, and Juleka poured her a glass. “You did a great job of blending your styles, it looks so pretty in here, but, you know. Juleka pretty and not just Rose pretty. I really like what you did with the curtains—”

Juleka let her ramble on, glancing at the clock now and again. Alya and Alix were due any minute and she had to head Alya off before she did anything...pushy. Luka didn’t like pushy. Marinette drifted into the living room to chat with some other friends—and damn, the front of that dress might be all sweetness and light but the back was really sexy. “Damn it, Luka,” Juleka muttered with a frustrated sigh. “This girl better be fucking incredible.”

Luka was just following Rose back from the spare bedroom the girls were turning into a combination craft/music room, when he caught sight of Marinette chatting with a few other people in the living room.

Rose saw her almost at the same time, and gave a little squeal. “Marinette, you made it!”

Marinette came to hug her, and Luka waited while they exchanged pleasantries, trying to keep his cool so he didn’t give anything away. Finally Rose remembered he was there and turned to him, tugging Marinette forward a little.

“Oh, Marinette, this is Juleka’s brother Luka!” Rose chirped. “Luka, this is Marinette, the friend we were telling you about.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other. Just long enough to give Rose pause. Then...

“Hi,” Luka said, grinning down at her.

“Hi,” Marinette murmured, smiling up at him.

“You look good enough to eat,” he told her, settling a hand on her hip and tugging her closer. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rose’s eyes widen and had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“Is that a promise?” Marinette winked, and the tremble in her voice said she was about to laugh too.

He bent down and she pushed up and they met in a passionate kiss. Her arms went around his neck (she remembered just in time not to dump her wine down his back) and his hands found her back—which was mostly bare, he realized as he felt warm skin under his hands. The noise he made wasn’t very dignified but it would only add to the show; he slid his hands down her back and onto her ass. Just to really sell it, naturally. No doubt she was kneading his chest and shoulders for the same reason.

Damn, she even tasted like chocolate, the little minx. He’d be willing to bet she did that on purpose.

Beside them, Rose practically had to stuff both fists in her mouth to keep herself from screaming. She looked around and grabbed Mylène’s arm, shaking her as Rose hopped up and down.

“Rose, what is—oooohhh,” Mylène’s eyes went round as Rose spun her around to face the kissing couple. Rose leaned down and began to hiss excitedly into her ear. “Wait, slow down— what? ” Mylène slapped her own hands over her mouth and looked at Rose.

“ I know!!” Rose whisper-squealed, reaching up to tug at her short hair with both hands. Both of them looked towards the door, where they could see Juleka letting in Alya and Alix.

“Marinette gave us the slip,” Alya said, rolling her eyes. “Something about needing to pick up a card or some nonsense. She’s looking good, though, which is a good thing for us, right? She’s got this cute little brown dress with pink and she looks like a chocolate strawberry macaroon.”

“Wait till you see the back,” Alix grinned. “Just these two lace panels that meet between her shoulderblades and the rest is bare. Seriously hot. I’m totally begging her to make...” She trailed off as she looked at Juleka’s face. Juleka sighed.

“Listen, Alya, I need to tell you—” Juleka began, but Alya interrupted her, her face scrunching up as she looked at something over Juleka’s shoulder.

“Oh you’re kidding me, I can’t believe she brought him. What is she thinking?” Alya demanded, grabbing Juleka’s arm. “How could you let him in?” Juleka raised her eyebrows, but before she could say anything, Alix had leaned around them to see what Alya was looking at.

“What now?” Alix grumbled.

“Marinette brought her boytoy,” Alya spat, frustrated. ��I can’t believe her.” Juleka nearly laughed at the irony until connections started snapping together in her head. With a feeling of dawning horror, she paused and turned slowly to look behind her, just in time to see her brother sticking his tongue down her friend’s throat. I’ll kill him , she thought. “No wonder she didn’t give me any pushback when I suggested she dress up a little,” Alya muttered, but Juleka barely heard her.

“Nice,” Alix said, still leaning around Juleka to see, eyebrows raising in appreciation. Then she frowned. “Hold on, isn’t that—”

At the same time, Juleka blurted “Wait,” and Alix broke off as both she and Alya turned to look at Juleka, who had gone pale. “ That ’ s the guy Marinette went home with? The guy she’s been banging every chance she got since—” A look of horror crossed her face. “That’s who she’s been telling us—oh, gross. ” She put a hand over her mouth, sure she was about to vomit. “Oh my God, I don’t know what I did to deserve this but I deeply regret whatever it was.”

“Never mind all that, we have to find a way to get him out of here before your brother shows up,” Alya hissed.

Juleka groaned and put her face in her hands.

Alix began to laugh. “I do feel sorry for you,” she told Juleka. “I really do. I definitely wouldn’t want to know any of that about my brother.” She paused, and made a face, turning slightly green. “Oh God, did not need that mental image, and mine’s not even real.”

“I’m gonna hurl,” Juleka mumbled. “I can’t believe I have to live with this knowledge.”

Across the room, Marinette broke their kiss long enough to ask, breathlessly, “Think they got the point?” Luka glanced up and began to laugh into her hair as she nibbled his collarbone.

“Juleka’s face is priceless right now.” He dropped his head and licked her neck, before moving his face up to whisper in her ear. “If we don’t get out of here right now I’m going to bust a gut and ruin everything.”

“Then by all means, let’s go,” she giggled. “Tell me the next time they look over.”

Luka glanced up. “Now.”

Marinette slipped her hand between his legs and squeezed, making him jump with a “whoa.”

“Sorry. Too much?” Marinette whispered.

“Not if we’re leaving right now,” he grinned back, and let Marinette take his hand, giving him her best bedroom eyes as she backed towards the door, tugging him along. He didn’t even have to feign the dopey look on his face as he stared back at her. As they passed the knot of her friends, all staring saucer-eyed at them, she waved at them.

“Thanks for inviting me, Juleka! Sorry I have to bow out early, but um...I have something to take care of,” Marinette giggled, handing her wine glass to Alix as she kept towing Luka towards the door. He smirked at Juleka and winked.

“I’ll text you about dinner,” he called over his shoulder, laughing, and then grabbed Marinette’s ass just before they stepped out of the door.

“Holy fuck,” Alix muttered, still gaping at the door. “Was that really Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” She began to laugh. “I am so fucking proud.”

“This isn’t funny!” Alya hissed. “This is a disaster!”

“Oh, it’s hilarious,” Alix gasped, barely able to breathe, and Rose and Mylène nodded, both giggling. Rose squealed, bouncing on her toes.

“This is amazing, I can’t believe it, it’s like fate or something—”

“I’m not sure that’s how fate works.” Mylène was trying to hold in her laughter for Alya’s sake. “But they certainly seem happy together.”

Juleka, still looking a little green, put her hand on Alya’s shoulder before Alya could retort. “Look, it’s fine. You don’t have to worry about her. Luka’s the only person on the planet who’s a bigger sap than Marinette. If he’s into her, he’s all in.” Remembering the way Luka had been glowing when he’d talked about his new girl—when he talked about Marinette —she managed a tiny smile despite her nausea. If Luka got his way maybe she’d have Marinette for a sister-in-law after all.

It was wiped away a second later as Alix guffawed, “Oh, she loves him being all in,” and Juleka groaned.

“I need alcohol now ,” she grumbled. “I am going to give him so much shit in the wedding speech to make up for this.”

***

Outside, Luka and Marinette got to the elevators, and then collapsed against the wall in a brief fit of giggles.

“That was brilliant,” Marinette laughed, squeezing Luka’s arm. “I’m so embarrassed but it was so worth it, did you see Alya’s face?”

“Juleka’s gonna kill me,” Luka chortled. “I can’t wait. Come here.” He pulled her close and kissed her, softer and more carefully than he had inside, and Marinette hummed with pleasure. Not that she hadn’t been enjoying their sloppy makeout, but this was more Luka’s style, and since she loved Luka, she—Marinette paused, and pulled back to look at him, biting her lip as he blinked and smiled softly at whatever he saw in her face. Marinette took a breath.

“I love you,” she said, keeping her eyes on his, though her pulse hammered in her veins. She hadn’t thought his eyes could get any softer, but he looked at her as if she was the greatest treasure in the world as he cupped her cheek and laid a soft kiss on her lips.

“I love you too,” he said roughly, and gathered her up in his arms, squeezing her tight, lifting her off her feet as he squeezed her hard.

Marinette giggled into his shoulder. “Poor Alya,” she muttered. “So wrong and so right at the same time.” She pulled back and kissed him again. “Take me home, before someone catches us making out in the hallway.”

“Too late, dudes.”

They both looked up, and Marinette’s mouth fell open as she saw Nino stepping out of the elevator with a pained expression. “Does the phrase get a room mean anything to you guys?”

“Oh,” Marinette ducked her head sheepishly. “Sorry, Nino. By the way, this is Luka. He’s...Juleka’s brother?”

Nino blinked, and then groaned. “Oh, shit.”

Marinette giggled. “We’re um...we’re leaving now. Uh...Alya might be a teensie bit—” She held up her pinched fingers. “...stressed?”

Nino rolled his eyes, but reached back to catch the elevator door for them before it closed. “Guess I’m on damage control,” he sighed, but with a grin. “Come on, get out of here.” Needing no further encouragement, Marinette pulled Luka into the elevator. “Bring him to dinner or something next time,” Nino called as he let the door close. “We can’t keep meeting like this.”

In the elevator, Luka and Marinette looked at each other. “Oops,” she whispered, and they both broke down laughing. Luka hugged her close, and Marinette sighed. “You know,” she mused. “As far as mistakes go…” She smiled up at him. “You’re the best one I ever made.”

#quickspins #oops #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #alya salt #depending on your sensitivity level #nsfwish fic #one night stand to lovers #pro lukamari #i'll never not know you

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let-them-read-fics · 3 years

Text

BP Headcanon / One Shot: Raising A Kid With Lisa

Requested By Anon: Lisa / Reader while they're raising a kid

Quote Requested By @ssamssamu: "I knew I did from that first moment we met. It was… not love at first sight exactly, but- familiarity. Like: oh, hello, it’s you. It’s going to be you."

Pairing: Lisa x Fem!Reader

Warnings / Misc. -- Fluff, Slight Angst, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: This one's kinda long, guys 😳 I hope you enjoy, though. Thank you for the requests!

PS ~ Your child is female in this

♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Dear lord... 🛐🤰

Let's get started

First off: milf

Second off: you'd either come home to find her, your child, and your 5 cats passed out, or chaotically playing with one another

WHEN YOU'RE NEW PARENTS:

If you give birth, she's literally the most supportive wife ever

Getting you any and everything you need, no matter the time of day or night

"Lis?" You ask into the darkness, voice coming out rough as it slips past your sleepy lips. Her soft snoring is cut off in an instant as she wakes up, ready to help.

"I'm here, my love." She yawns, quickly stretching before reaching forward to take your hand into her own.

"Can you get me some ice chips?" You wince, hating to make her trek all the way down the hall when she was comfortable and sleeping so well.

"On it, baby." She stands and brushes her lips against your forehead, reassuring you that she doesn't mind the task.

"Thank you; I love you," you call after her as she walks towards the door. She turns to you just as she reaches it, pressing a kiss to her fingers before holding a finger heart up for you.

"I love you more."

----

"Here you go," she says, helping you sit up in the hospital bed. "I got you a little water with it, just like you like." She raises the cup for you, tilting it so that the cool liquid can slide towards your lips, soothing your dry mouth. The styrofoam squeaks lightly, momentarily accompanying the sound of the beeping monitor that's keeping track of your vitals.

You gently push the cup away after you're satisfied, wrapping your arms around her waist as she puts it on the bedside table. She cuddles you back, kissing the top of your head.

"Thanks again, babe. I don't know what I'd do without you." You mumble against her, still exhausted from all that you went through earlier today. She crouches down beside you, taking your hands within her own as she looks up into your eyes.

"You've made me the happiest woman in the world, Y/N/N; I have you and our cute little baby girl now. I think that's more than a fair trade for getting ice chips at 3 in the morning."

You laugh, leaning forward to rest your forehead against hers.

"We did pretty good, didn't we?" You ask after a moment, gazing over at the clear bin your daughter is laying in, resting peacefully.

"We sure did." Lisa says, feeling tears prick at her eyes. She raises a hand to your cheek, cupping the soft skin as she looks at you tenderly.

If she gives birth, you'd do everything for her as well and take good care of her as she recovers

She'd try to be a bit more independent, though, just because that's how she is

She secretly loves when you surprise her with just what she wanted, but was too shy / stubborn to ask for

You come back into the bedroom with a pint of ice cream and two spoons in hand, clad in one of her oversized shirts.

"I got your favorite," you smile, saddling up next to her on the bed. She sits up with a shy grin, feeling beyond lucky to have someone like you.

"Thank you baby," she says, taking a scoop of the sweet treat as you stick it out to her. She sighs as the flavor coats her tongue, reminding her of all the reasons it's her favorite.

"You know," she starts after a minute, grabbing your attention mid-bite. "You taste even better than this."

She smirks as you nearly choke on the ice cream, coughing a bit as it trails an icy path down your throat.

"Yah, jagi! Are you trying to kill me?"

She doesn't want to feel like a nuisance

You reassure her that she isn't at all, and eventually she listens to you

Lets you help her more and cater to her needs

Repays you in the form of cuddles and millions of sweet kisses

As soon as she can safely take care of herself, she's back to normal (aka, being a crackhead)

If you adopt or have a donor, oh boy

That child is spoiled the moment you lay eyes on it

Raising her as your own

You agree to tell her about her past when she's older, if she wants that

Constant reassurance of your love for her

Telling her how proud you are of her

---

She'd be teaching your kid dance moves before she could even walk

"Lis, baby, she literally just bent her knee."

"I don't know what you're talking about. She was definitely practicing the move I taught her last night."

Almost always making a mess when she feeds her (though that's not entirely Lisa's fault... babies are messy)

Seriously, both of them completely covered in baby food and milk when you walk in

Lisa asking if she can buy a hazmat suit for when it's her time on diaper duty

Pouting when you say no

She decides to wear goggles, gloves, and a face mask instead

Singing softly to your daughter as she rocks her to sleep

Sometimes falling asleep in your rocking chair with your baby in her arms

And you find them and just 🥺

WHEN YOUR DAUGHTER IS A TODDLER & UP:

Visiting Lisa's family and your own when you can

Very wholesome memories being made with them

Food fights

She is 110% down to act silly and do anything your kid wants

You unlock the front door of your shared home, tiredly rubbing your neck after a long day of work. The sound of one of your daughter's favorite movies playing on the living room TV brings a smile to your face, and you quickly set your things on the kitchen table before joining them.

Upon stepping foot into the room, you comically narrow your eyes.

"What are you wearing?" You ask both of them as an amused smile grows on your lips.

Lisa turns to you now, appearing to have been so invested in the movie that she hadn't even heard you come home. You start to wonder if maybe she was the one who wanted to watch the movie all along.

A tin foil hat rests atop her head, matching the adorable, mini-sized version that your daughter is modeling. Lisa's grin widens cutely as she looks you up and down, happy to finally have you back home.

"Here mama, we made one for you, too!" Your daughter says excitedly, giggling as she hops up and runs towards you, cap in hand. You crouch down so she can put it on you, feeling your heart melt at the happy look in her eyes; she's proud of herself, and so are you.

"Thank you baby, it fits just right." You praise, lifting her into your arms as Lisa stands up and approaches you.

"We missed you, lovey." She presses her lips to yours, humming against them when you bring a hand to her hip to pull her even closer. You pull away before you can get too invested and scar your child for life, opting instead to cuddle into the cozy embrace that Lisa offers to the two of you.

The warm material of her sweater brushes against your skin as she brings her arms around both of you, protecting you from the slightly chilly air of the room.

"You know, I still have no idea what the hat's for..." you smirk, feeling your daughter raise her head from where it previously came to rest against your shoulder. She scoffs, sounding offended that you don't know the answer.

"It's to protect us from aliens. Duh," she rolls her eyes, making you and Lisa chuckle. Clearly Jennie has been giving her some sass lessons lately.

"My most sincere apologizes, princess," you bow your head in mock shame, doing your best to conceal your smile.

"Let's go sit back down. I wanna hold my girls," Lisa declares softly, kissing your temple as you go to agree.

The three of you make your way back to the couch, snuggling up close as Lisa presses play.

Very affectionate

Constantly squishing your cheeks and gushing about how cute you are (she does the same thing to your daughter too)

Spoils her (and you) rotten

Matching onesies

Matching outfits, totally coordinated (usually Celine or some other designer brand)

Pillow / blanket forts

"Queen Y/N, requesting entrance." You announce with a smile, hands full of snacks for the three of you as you sit back on your knees in waiting.

From inside, you hear Lisa say, "Your Highness, there's a guest at the door. Would you like to see her?"

Your daughter's faux royal voice almost makes you crack up. "Oh, alright. Open up." She commands, sounding British.

Lisa parts the front two blankets, doing her best to conceal her grin as she locks eyes with you.

"SNACKS!" Your daughter shrieks, completely breaking character.

"No no no! Wait--" She eagerly rushes over to you, knocking you over in the heat of the moment. Your mom skills kick in and allow you to angle the bowls correctly and keep most of the food in, though a few stray pieces of popcorn fall out and land in your hair.

"Oops... sorry mommy," your daughter says, snickering softly.

Lisa leans over you, peering down at where you now lay on your back. She smirks as she picks some of the popcorn out of your hair.

If you're preparing a meal for the three of you, they'd turn on some music and come hang in the kitchen with you

Dance battles everywhere

Lisa doesn't always let your daughter win, either, and it makes your little girl all the more competitive

Taking your daughter to street markets to introduce her to new foods and develop her palate

Betting on what foods she'll like more

Lisa getting sulky when she loses, and never shutting up about it when she wins

PICTURES PICTURES PICTURES

Lisa's always taking pictures of you all to add to your family photo book

More like photo books

Seriously so many pictures. She just can't get enough of how cute her little unit is

Taking trips to local cat cafés to let the gang play

Lisa convincing you to let her get another cat

"Pleaaaase?" She draws the word out, wrapping her arms around your waist. You glance over to where your daughter is surrounded by a sea of fluff balls, almost unable to be seen. She's laughing her head off, filling the room with her cute giggles as the kitties brush against her.

"Just one more. Last one." Lisa says, gathering your attention again.

"You said that last time," you quip.

"I mean it this time."

"I feel like that's a lie..."

"If you let me get this cat, there'll be a reward for you later." She husks the last part out, letting her fingers trail to the back of your neck to rest there. She leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek, then your jawline, smiling against your skin when she feels your heart beat a little faster.

"Fine, Lisa. But this is the last one," you point a finger at her, pushing her back slightly.

"Thank you, my love. You won't regret it." She smirks, head held high as she slaps your butt and goes to the crate to pick her cat of choice.

Roadtrips

Sightseeing and exploring

Teaching your daughter how to take good pictures, too

"My little prodigy" - Lisa (🥺🥲)

You and your daughter go to Lisa's performances anytime you're able

Cheering the girls on, fully decked out in BP merch

"BLACKPINK IS THE REVOLUTION!" Your daughter screams, bonking her light stick against her head wildly. From the vantage point of your front row seat, you lock eyes with Lisa before glancing down at the little human with an amused smile. Lisa laughs when she notices her, leaving only the backing track to play for a second. She giggles again and points to you before picking back up with the song, a wide smile on her lips.

The other members look down and laugh, too, clapping for her.

Your baby has too much energy for her own good -- something she definitely got from your wife.

Visiting the girls often

They always love to see both of you

Jennie makes food for her and spoils her with lazy days, Jisoo teaches her how to play video games and be more of a crackhead, and Rosé teaches her to paint and sing (and also speak with an Australian accent)

"Nœř"

They all have a secret handshake with her, different for each member

Which you think is absolutely adorable

They always take such good care of her

Always showing up for her school recitals and performances

When you pack your daughter's lunch, Lisa will usually sneak extra sweets into her bag, thinking you don't notice. You do, but you'd never tell her that. Seeing her think she's actually being sneaky is cute

Your Relationship With Lisa

Playful banter

She still makes time for you

Likes to be connected in some way as often as possible. Holding hands or pinkies, back hugs, kisses, gentle caresses, cuddling, etc. -- anything she can do to constantly remind you of her love.

You both always look forward to date nights

You drop your daughter off so the girls can watch her, or you call a sitter

Lisa takes you wherever you wanna go

Some past places: the park (to stargaze), the roller rink, fancy restaurants, art museums / galleries, couples dance classes (when you want to practice a new style and have an excuse to dance the night away together), or even just the couch

Sometimes both of you are too exhausted to go out, so you opt to stay in instead

Other times she wants to get all fancied up and see how gorgeous you look in your outfit of choice

She loves to show you off

"Damn, baby. How do you get hotter every time I see you?"

You look over at her with an incredulous expression, still clad in your oversized shirt with you hair pulled back.

"I haven't even gotten ready yet..."

"Still sexy," she coos, coming up behind you to give you a hug. You settle back into her arms, sighing softly when she trails soft kisses along your shoulder, towards your neck.

"I have to shower," you inform her, releasing the words gently. Part of you knows you'll be late for your reservation if you let her continue, but you can't find it in yourself to care. You've been aching for her touch lately, both of you caught up with the stressors of life. But she's here now, letting her hands roam to the places she knows they shouldn't be.

"Lis..."

"You know," she pecks the mark she just finished making on your neck, feeling satisfied as it darkens before her eyes, "I'm in need of a shower, too." Her fingertips flirt with the waistband of your panties, dipping underneath the material to caress your skin.

"Didn't you get in a couple hours ago?" You ask, furrowing your brows in genuine curiosity.

She laughs at that, letting her head fall against your shoulder as she stills her movements.

"Y/N, can't you just go along with it? Jeez, let me flirt with you."

Both of you chuckle together now, giggles mixing together as they fill the air of the room.

"Alright, alright. Go ahead."

"You look-- No, you know what? Let's just get in. I'll show you instead."

One of the best showers of your life ;)

You somehow managed to make it to your reservation on time

Lisa had to help you walk, though

Cause, ya know

Wöbbĺý łəğ§

Flirted like crazy at dinner

But was also very romantic

As a plane blinks by in the distance, merely a speck on its journey across the dusky sky, Lisa ponders on what her life would've been like, had she not met you. That lonely looking plane symbolizes what she'd probably be doing right now: flying somewhere for tour or brand deals. Every flash of its lights is like a call out to the universe, searching for something it doesn't yet have. It reminds her of how she felt before she met you -- like something was missing.

"I love you, Y/N/N, so much," she says out of the blue, looking over to you. "I'm lucky to call you mine." She says sincerely, gazing into your eyes with a big smile. You turn her into a lovesick, giddy teenager just by being yourself. One look from you is capable of sending her falling all over again.

Her fingers intertwine with your own, hands resting on the table.

"I'm so proud of us. There's no one I'd rather grow old with." You bring her wrist to your lips, kissing it tenderly. Her heart melts at the action, and she cups your cheek in her palm.

She takes you to the park after dinner, right back to the place you met

It leads to a big sentimental talk about when you fell for one another and realized you were in love

You take a bite of the froyo you got as desert on the way here, looking over to her as she begins explaining.

"I knew I did from that first moment we met. It was… not love at first sight exactly, but- familiarity. Like: oh, hello, it’s you. It’s going to be you."

She looks so sweet after she says it that you almost melt right then and there. You put the container down on the bench beside you before turning back to her. Curiosity shines in her doe eyes as she waits on your answer.

"Oddly enough, it was the same for me," you start, feeling your cheeks tug up into a smile as the memories come flooding back. "As soon as I made you laugh that first time -- when I saw your face light up after I told that stupid joke -- I knew it was you. I never knew what I was missing until I met you."

She cups your cheek, rubbing the pad of her thumb across it as tears begin to well up in her eyes. Years ago, when both of you happened to be in this very spot at the same time, you had no idea what life had in store for you. She had no idea that when she accidently bumped into a complete stranger, that that person would become her world.

She wouldn't feel complete without you, and neither would you without her. The life you've created has taken sacrifices and courage, but you know you'll always have one another no matter what. She makes the hard days bearable, and the good days unforgettable. She's your reason, just as you're hers.

"I love you--"

Both of you say the phrase at the same time, laughing when you realize it. It's a sweet moment, plucked straight out of a romcom.

She leans forward after a few seconds to kiss your lips, reclaiming them for her own.

Holding hands as you walk through the city

Not wanting the night to end

You stop in a couple other thrift shops and take some pictures together before deciding to go home

You catch up on some movies / Netflix / trashy TV that you've been wanting to watch together, finally having enough time to do so

She holds you close, snuggling up against you and not letting you go

Fights

Of course, they're inevitable

Never fun

You both communicate well, though, so they don't happen too often

But when they do, they usually start over little things, your annoyance only heightened by the stress you're constantly under

It's tough on Lisa, being an idol on top of everything else, and it's tough on you to have to raise your daughter alone sometimes

You don't fight in front of her (your child), and you don't say things to attack each other's character. Sometimes you just get loud because you're frustrated and trying to get the other to understand things from your point of view

You usually take time to cool down and then come back together later, once you've had time to think and reflect

After putting your daughter to bed, Lisa comes to your shared bedroom.

"Y/N/N, baby, I'm sorry. Please open up, I need to see you." She says quietly, resting her forehead against the door. She's beyond disappointed in herself, baffled by the fact she could treat you in such a way.

You look over to it, weighing your options as you toy with your wedding ring out of habit. This was a particularly nasty fight, and you hated every second of it; the anger in her eyes broke your heart.

She hears shuffling from inside, and she stands up straight. When you open the door and lean against it, eyes red and cheeks puffy from crying, her heart sinks. It's not surprising that her words hurt you so much, but knowing that she caused you pain in any way is almost too much to bear.

She purses her lips as she gathers her thoughts, and you momentarily look down to the floor, scuffing your foot to busy yourself.

"I never should've said any of that to you. Work has just been stressing me out lately with the comeback and all, and I took it out on you. I was wrong," she says, fresh tears spilling out of her eyes. She quickly wipes them away, not wanting the moment to be about her. She knows if she breaks down in front of you right now, you'll be forgiving her in an instant and wrapping her in the embrace that she's been in dire need of all evening.

That's exactly why she doesn't give in; now isn't the time to be selfish. She sniffles, willing the tears away as she finds the words she wants to say to you. She has to make things right.

"You're everything I've ever wanted, and I treated you like that? I'm ashamed of myself, Y/N. I'm not asking you to forget about this; I just want you to know how sorry I am."

You let a shaky breath out as you look into her eyes, deciding on what to do. You can tell she's being genuine; her fear of losing you is real, and she's doing everything she can to prove how guilty she feels.

You drop your hand from the knob and step through the threshold of the door, wrapping your arms around her neck. The second you do, her tears finally begin spilling out again. Your hair tickles her nose as she nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck, securing her arms around your waist like her life depends on it. You cry together, letting out all of your stress and frustrations while muttering out strained apologies and I love yous.

"I forgive you, Lisa." She sobs a bit harder at that, and you feel her lip tremble. You stay like that until you both calm down, your sniffles fading to hitched breaths every now and then.

"Come on, let's go take a bath."

She decides to take over, wanting to make it up to you. She has you sit down and relax while she lights some candles and fills the tub with your favorite scents and oils

She comes back out into the bedroom to get you as the tub fills up

She carries you back to the bathroom, cradling you lovingly in her arms

You get in and cuddle, massaging the pain and tension away from each others shoulders

Very soft way to end such a stressful day

She reassures you that she'll be better for you and that she never wants to lose you or jeopardize what you have

You believe her, and to this day she's never been like that again

You still argue from time to time, but you both listen more and stop things before they can escalate

When All Is Said & Done

At the end of the day, Lisa always makes sure you know how happy you make her and how much she loves her life with the both of you

Even though things get hard sometimes, you wouldn't want to do it with anyone else

One day, when your daughter is away at school, Lisa and you are snuggled up on the couch, watching some TV

"Y/N/N?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Let's make another baby."

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regretthatsme · 3 years

Text

The Doe - Harry Potter x fem!reader

A/n: Harry's second child is named Arthur Remus in this. Albus Severus is a god awful name about two god awful people.

Harry was quickly running to the seventh floor. He was running late for class.

You see, Harry was a teacher. An illegal one, maybe. But, a teacher nonetheless. He was certainly a better teacher than toad-face.

Today, Harry was going to teach a very important lesson. Today was the day where the students would learn expecto-patronum.

He was watching the students file into the Room of Requirements. The excited chatter of teenagers filled the empty room.

"Alright. Alright!" Said Harry, immediately silencing any conversation. "Today, we will be learning the patronus charm. It is one of the most difficult spells to learn, so don't be discouraged if you don't get it on your first try."

Harry did the demonstration of the spell, a bright white stag erupting from the end of his wand.

"Think of your happiest memory. Allow it to fill you up." He said while circling around the room. "A full body patronus is the most difficult to produce."

He was getting lost in the magic and pure joy that echoed across the room, and that's when he saw it.

A glittering silver doe standing right in front of him. Some students stopped to stare at the marvel aswell. Harry's patronus seemed to notice, and it began to walk towards the doe. The stag bowed his head. The doe reciprocated, only to scamper off seconds later with the stag following suit.

Harry stood in awe for a few moments. He tried to think back to his teachings, but his mind kept going back to that damn doe.

And that one class became two. Then three. Then the week.

One month.

It's been one month. And that's when he told Ron.

"I don't know, Ron. I can't stop thinking about it. It keeps coming back. And I tried to ignore it, but then it comes back stronger than ever before." Harry expressed to his friend.

"I don't know what to tell you mate." Said Ron as he bit into a chocolate frog.

"I know... it's just... I feel... something."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know! Just.... will I ever find her?"

Ron looked at his friend. Harry was hunched over with sullen eyes. He was deep in thought. He's serious, Ron thought.

"Cheer up, mate. I'm sure you will find her again."

Harry got up from his bed and started pacing. "What if I don't? I saw something incredible. Indescribable even... I found my soulmate, Ron!" Harry was almost shouting in frustration.

"Relax! It's not my fault. Stop screaming at me!" Ron told Harry. Harry began to take deep breaths and sat back on his mattress.

"I've never felt this way about anyone before. I've never had someone to love, you know? I don't want them to slip away like everyone else."

"Hey, not everyone has slipped away. You still have me and Hermione!"

Harry chuckled. "Thank you for listening. I know it's weird to talk about sappy stuff with me."

"Hey. If you can't talk to your friend about your soulmate, what good are they?"

-*-*-*-

Harry prepared for the next lesson, this week focusing on protego. The library was quite empty, only a few second years and one other fifth year.

That fifth year in question is a certain Y/N L/N. She was.... wow. She was one of the most beautiful people in her year. Her H/C hair was so lush and thick and shined in the sun. It shined almost as much as her eyes, which captivated whoever looked into them.

But it's not just her looks that captured the hearts of many, it was also her mind. Her brilliant mind. She could answer any question in the blink of an eye. She could pass any test with flying colors. But, she was creative and oh so kind. More kind than anybody Harry had ever met. Just being in her presence was enough to brighten anyone's day.

Certainly enough to lighten mine, thought Harry.

"Hello, Harry." Y/N said. She had moved to sit across from him.

"U-um. Hello, Y/N." Harry studdard.

"Did you need me? You were looking at me so I thought you might need help."

"Oh. Um-no. It's nothing. Don't worry."

"Well, alright. Just out of curiosity, what are you researching."

Harry looked down to his roll of parchment. "Protego. I'm going to teach it next class."

"That good. It's important to be able to protect yourself. Be sure to discuss protego maxima. It protects against even stronger spells. Seems quite important for an 'army'."

"Of course. Thank you for the recommendation"

Y/N leaned closer to Harry till her lips brushed against his ear. "I'm very excited about our next class." She pulled away, winked, and walked away.

Harry's heart couldn't stop beating. He was panting, yet felt like he couldn't breath. No. No. No. No. I have a soulmate. I can't fall in love with someone else, thought Harry.

-*-*-*-

Harry wondered aimlessly down the corridors under his invisibility cloak. The night was peaceful. Just him and his thoughts, no interruptions. Until he heard a choked sob. It sounded like it came from a first year. What did the toad do the poor first year.

He rounded the corner to see Y/N comforting a young Slytherin girl. "I know. I know, Amelia." The Slytherin was still sobbing hard as ever, no matter how much consolidation she recieved. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

"No. Just be here. Just hug me." Said Amelia. Harry could see a tear trickle down Y/N's face.

"You want to see something cool?" Amelia nodded, though it seemed a bit reluctant. "I'm going to cast a spell. Are you ready?" Amelia nodded again, much more vigorously.

"Expecto Patronum."

And there it was.

That damn doe.

That damn doe that haunted him since the day he saw it.

That damn doe that made him rethink so many choices.

That goddamn doe... the love of his life.

He knew that he probably shouldn't do it. He knew that he could be caught if he were to. But, he couldn't help himself. He couldn't fucking help himself.

"Expecto Patronum." Harry whispered.

A stag erupted out of the top of the wand. It immediately ran towards the doe, almost as if he missed her. The stag pranced around both Y/N and doe before bowing down. Just like in the Room of Requirements.

"Can I touch it?" asked Amelia.

"I don't see why not."

She reached up to touch the deer. As soon as she did, Amelia started giggling. Y/N did as well. It felt like pure happiness.

They backed away, and the doe took their place. She bowed down as well. They raised their heads and look into each other's eyes. They kept eye contact as they stepped closer together. Until they came together.

Before long, the deers disappeared.

"I can go back, now." Said Amelia.

"Do you want me to bring you back?" Asked Y/N.

"No thank you." Amelia made her way down the hall. Y/N waited until she couldn't hear the patter of feet.

"Harry. I know you're there. Harry! Where are you?"

Harry took off his cloak before spewing out apologies, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or if I messed up. I couldn't help myself. I should have stopped myself. I knew this was - mmmph!" His rant was cut off by a pair of lips on his.

"Harry, there is nothing to apologize for!" Y/N giggled. Merlin, it sound like music. Harry couldn't help but laugh with her.

"So...."

"You're my soulmate then, Y/N?"

"If you would like to call me that, I suppose."

"I would if that's alright with you." Harry places his face in the crook of her neck. Y/N could feel the shit-eating grin on his face. "Would you like to go to Hogsmead on Sunday?"

"Sounds lovely."

-*-*-*-

"James! Wake up!" Y/N tried waking up her son. "Come on. It's your first day of school."

"No. Bed."

"James, if you don't get up, I'm confiscating your broom." Said the boy's mother. It's safe to say that he got ready alarmingly quickly.

Lovely, thought Y/N. She walked downstairs to her two other children eating breakfast. "Good morning, Lily. Good morning, Arthur." She finished each greeting with a kiss on the forehead.

"Good morning, mum!" Said Lily. She was bouncing up and down with excitement, even if she wasn't going to Hogwarts just yet. Arthur stayed silent, however.

"Arthur? You okay? It's your first day at Hogwarts! You should be excited." Said his mother.

"I know. I'm just... nervous." He said, a frown made it's way onto his lips.

"Darling!" Y/N's husband clambered into the room and placed a quick peck to her cheek. He turned to face Arthur. "How are doing? Are you excited?"

"Yes." Arthur faked a smile for the sake of his father.

"Oh gosh! Look at the time! We have to get going or we'll be late!" Said Y/N as she frantically collected her family's belongings.

-*-*-*-

"Dad, what if I am put into Slytherin?" Asked Arthur, about to board the train.

"Arthur Remus Potter. Slytherin isn't a bad house. In fact, it is quite extraordinary. Your mother was almost put in Slytherin for how determined and cunning she was! It would be an honor to have you be in Slytherin. Just as much of an honor as if you would be in Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw. We will love you no matter what."

Arthur hugged his father so tightly as tears leaked from his eyes. "I-I don't w-want to l-leave you, Dad. I don't want to leave Mum, either. Or Lily."

Harry pulled back and wiped the tears from his eyes. "I know. But, before you know it, you'll be back home and you'll be sick of us all over again." Harry laughed. He had to laugh. If he didn't, he would cry too.

Satisfied with that response, Arthur left his father's embrace and walked over to his mother, who was watching the whole time.

"I love you so much. I love you to the moon and back." She said, giving one last hug to her children before they boarded the train. They grow up too fast.

"I'll write every day." Said Arthur, waving from his compartment on the train.

"Write us when you get settled in! And be sure to tell what house you are in!" Shouted Harry. The train started to ride away. Harry looked at his children then to his wife. He was and will be forever grateful for the woman standing beside him, who gave him a family, who gave him so much.

And to think it all happened because of a damn doe.

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x ravenclaw!reader #harry james potter #harry potter x you

161 notes · View notes

iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

Text

Rivals

A/N: @obsessedwithrandomthings requested some Neville angst in the form of enemies to lovers from me so here is what I hope is Neville angst! Honestly, it’s more rivals with a lot of unresolved sexual tension but I still hope you like! She also made this wonderful banner! I also don’t know if you can tell but I am really inspired by greek mythology and witchcraft lore in general (I'm a historian, what can I say?) and this fic is full of it so if that’s not your thing, then I apologise! Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Rival professors

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, gets a lil bit steamy

Word count: 4.7k

There wasn’t a man on the earth that could infuriate you more than Neville Longbottom.

And you had known Draco Malfoy for over a decade.

There was a history between the two of you; a natural hatred that came with the Slytherin/Gryffindor rivalry, but there was always something more. A deeper attraction that ran between the two of you despite how hard you rejected it.

He felt it too; and he fought it with every breath.

You thought you would get some reprieve upon your appointment as the Divination professor at Hogwarts, but as you entered the staff room your first week there, Neville Longbottom was stood speaking to Headmistress McGonagall.

“You have got to be shitting me?” You cry.

“Professor (Y/L/N)!” McGonagall admonishes.

“I’m sorry Headmistress, but seriously? Longbottom?”

“I’m not thrilled about the prospect of working with you either.” Neville drawls.

McGonagall looks between the two of you, a small frown pulling down the corners of her mouth, “I do hope you’ll get along in front of students.”

You glare at the tall brunette, “There’ll be no issue with that on my part, Headmistress.”

Neville returns your glare with just as much acid, “The one thing we’ll agree on then.”

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

It’s the little things he does that bother you; such as smirking at you from across the Great Hall or taking the last of the milk in the staff room. Neville knows exactly how to get a rise out of you, and he does an excellent job of it.

The rivalry that had seemingly ended upon the end of your education, promptly started back up again.

Constant competition broke out between Neville and yourself: who got the higher grades? Who had the highest pass rate? Who got the most laughs out their students?

It never ended. He would goad you, and you’d goad him right back. Practical jokes would be played on each other often. You were both frequent customers at the Weasley twin’s joke shop where materials were hoarded, and plans were formed.

McGonagall watched the two of you bicker in the staffroom; a regular occurrence. She watched the both of you argue from across the room with a fond look on her face. The rivalry would always be present between the two of you; and she was surprised – to say you were a gifted seer, you had not foreseen the palpable tension between Neville and yourself.

She watches the back and forth between the two of you; head moving as if watching a muggle tennis match. Insults and jibes are thrown between you both and yet, despite the bitterness of the words, there was no major malice in your voices.

McGonagall sips at her tea, rolling her eyes at the two of you. She supposes that it would only be a matter of time now.

----------

The week before term starts you get a letter of rejection in your notice box. Your application for the money for new textbooks had been denied. You scrunch the paper in your hands; feeling the all too familiar emotion of frustration running through your veins. Your argument for the textbooks was sound; it would be easier for the school to purchase the materials for the students than to rely on the students to use their own money.

You knock on the heavy, wooden door of McGonagall’s office; entering upon hearing her grant permission. “Headmistress, why has my application for new textbooks been rejected?”

“We’ve had to siphon funds for the Herbology trip.”

You see red, but keep a lid on your temper in front of your boss, “Pardon?”

“Divination is an elective subject; Herbology is compulsory through all seven years.” McGonagall reasons.

“So because of that, my students have to use textbooks that are falling apart?”

“We can add the material onto the reading list if that makes anything better?”

You sit back in your chair, “Term starts in a week. Students will have bought their books already. The very reason I applied for the textbooks was so that students didn’t have to buy them.”

McGonagall holds her hands up, “I’m sorry, Professor.”

You sigh through your nose, standing to leave, “Thank you for your time, Headmistress.”

Anger rises within you; all directed at the maddening Herbology professor. You understood that Herbology was a compulsory subject, and that it was very useful in determining a student’s future career as a Healer or a Potioneer. But Divination was becoming increasingly popular among the muggleborn students who grew up knowing the tales of tarot reading, palmistry and clairvoyance. And after the war, so many students sat in the class hoping for a relief in their grief – to find an answer to the well-asked question, do they find peace?

You confront Neville in the staff room, “The reason I cannot get new textbooks for my Sixth Years is because you’ve used the money for a trip to London to meet Herbert Beery?”

“He taught Herbology here before Professor Sprout, it is a worthwhile trip!”

You pause the rant sitting at the tip of your tongue; letting his words settle. “Repeat those very words for me, Longbottom.”

Neville frowns, “What?”

“Repeat. Those. Words.” You enunciate; each syllable pronounced.

“Herbert Beery taught Herbology here before Sprout. It’s a worthwhile experience for students interested in taking the subject further.”

The cushion in your hands hits Neville in the face. He looks at you astonished as you shout, “You’re taking students to meet an ex-professor?”

“What aren’t you understanding about this?” Neville questions as another cushion hits his face, “Stop doing that!” he yells.

“Why didn’t you bring him here?! He knows the school; it’s known territory! And it would have saved enough money so I could get my textbooks!” You throw more cushions at him; enjoying the way he has to dodge them. “You didn’t think this through at all, Longbottom.”

“Calm down, (Y/N). Your students can always buy the textbooks.”

“Not this close to term starting!” You throw yourself down onto the couch with a groan, “You’re an arsehole.”

Neville glares, “This trip is a once in a lifetime experience for my students. Herbert Beery is officially retiring from the field after this lecture.”

“And yet you couldn’t invite him to Hogwarts?”

“No.”

You stand, shoving his shoulder as you pass him to leave. “I can’t even begin to tell you how pissed I am. I can’t even look at you right now.”

Leaving him there, surrounded by couch cushions, you take a breather in the courtyard. Inhaling the fresh air, you start to see things more clearly. It seems that a friendship would never exist between the two of you; the rivalry stemming from Hogwarts running so deep that it could never be breached by kind words and actions.

A plan forms in your head for the perfect revenge, and it would mean a visit to Diagon Alley.

---------

If there was one thing that your education at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry had taught you, it was if you were going to prank someone, you had to make it a good one. George and Fred Weasley are more than happy to help you enchant the chalk; neither asking too many questions – they see the mischievous glint in your eye and know not to interrogate too much.

Neville walks into his classroom to find his students already sat in their seats. He lets them continue socialising as he sets up his materials for the day; this lesson focusing on the theory behind Herbology rather than hands-on practice. He grabs his chalk from the bottom of the board, proceeding to write the date and title before turning to his class, pulling their attention away from their friends and on to him.

It takes him two minutes to notice to amused expressions and the stifling of laughter.

It takes him five minutes to figure out why.

On the chalkboard behind is a caricature of his face on the body of a baby Mandrake. He’s crying big, fat tears that make their way down the length of the board before turning to dust at the bottom.

Neville can feel his face heat from the anger building within him and coursing through his veins, setting them alight. He knows exactly who’s behind this, and it isn’t any of his students.

--------

Your class settle into their assigned seats; the crystal balls already placed in the centres of their tables. Once upon a time, students would groan at the sight of them, but now they regard them with interest.

You grin at your students, knowing what lesson they had last, “How was Herbology?”

Thomas Wadsworth in Ravenclaw begins to laugh, “I knew you would have something to do with it, Professor.”

“Was it obvious?”

He shakes his head, “Not really, but everyone knows of your rivalry.”

“How did he react?”

Shea Bard in Gryffindor raises her hand, “He went very red and muttered some curses before teaching us something else.”

You rub your hands together, “What else? Was it funny?”

“Very,” Shea nods, “But we didn’t dare laugh, no-one was in the mood to get a detention no matter how funny it was.”

You clap your hands together, pleased with the outcome. You’d have to send a thank you card to the Weasley twins for their genius minds.

“Why do you have this rivalry with Professor Longbottom?” A voice from the back asks.

Other students turn their eyes from their crystal balls to you; more interested in this topic of conversation rather than predicting their neighbour’s future.

You shrug, “We’ve never liked each other. He’s a Gryffindor and I’m a Slytherin.”

Thomas scoffs, “That can’t be it, surely? Give us something more, Professor.”

“What more is there? We went to school together and we never got on.”

Shea smiles, “With all respect Professor, you have to be aware of the tension between the two of you.”

“Tension?” You question, eyebrows furrowing.

Thomas raises his hand, counting the syllables off with his fingers, “Sex-u-al ten-shun.”

You stare wide-eyed at your class. Shea frowns, “Oh man, you weren’t aware of it were you?”

You clear your throat, “I have to know, how did my personal life become the topic for this class?”

“Since you won’t make a move on Professor Longbottom.”

“Thomas!” You chide.

He frowns, “I’m only saying what everyone else was thinking. It’s so obvious you fancy each other, it’s sickening.”

“Professor Longbottom and I have never gotten along. The most you’re going to see out of us is rivalry and cold stares.”

Thomas rolls his eyes, “Okay, Professor. If you get together before Christmas, Frances owes me Butterbeer for a month.”

“I’ll be sure to keep your bet in mind, Thomas, thank you.” You drawl with an unimpressed look, “Let’s get back to our crystal balls shall we?”

And just like that, the conversation over your personal life and your relationship with Neville Longbottom was over.

--------

The sound of your classroom door slamming shut has you jumping in your spot. You press a hand to your chest; trying to slow your racing heart as you take in the angry figure of Neville Longbottom.

“I know it was you.” He states, enunciating every word as if they were its own sentence. “I know it was you that planted the enchanted chalk in my classroom.”

You place a hand on your heart, grinning, “I am hurt that you would accuse me of such a thing, Longbottom.”

He stalks towards you, pressing you into your desk. He’s so close that you can smell the dirt from the greenhouse; it’s become the scent you associate with him.

“I spoke to the Weasley twins.”

Your grin shifts into a sly smirk, “The jig is up, you’ve caught me red-handed.”

The atmosphere between the two of become charged. The electricity in the air becoming magnetic; stirring something deep within your gut. Your eyes run over his face; taking in the widened pupils and the deepened breathing. He’s feeling it too; feeling it just as intense as you.

You resist the urge to drag him in for a kiss. You resist the urge to taste him; to memorise every inch of him with your fingers and mouth.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” You ask, voice breathless. He pushes himself away from you, stepping away quickly as your words land.

Neville storms out of your classroom; running both hands through his hair with a frustrated groan. You watch him leave, trying to slow the racing of your heart to no avail. He had no idea the reaction he could pull from you, but you were also unaware of the reaction, you could evoke from him.

You push your hair back from your forehead as you analyse your feelings for the Herbology professor; wondering when they had started to lean more towards to love than hatred.

You need to consult someone or something whether it be your cards or your tea leaves; everything feels so gnarled and scrambled, it felt impossible to make heads or tails of it all.

----------

Neville begins to enact his revenge a week later.

It starts with sitting next to you at the weekly briefings; sitting close enough to you where you can feel the warmth exuding from his body – sitting close enough to you where his thigh presses against yours. Through the briefing, he’d lean into you, whispering into your ear, asking for your thoughts. You clench the hand that’s resting on your thigh, and you feel rather than hear Neville’s amused snort at your action. He pulls away when McGonagall calls the end of the briefing and you’re left feeling suddenly cold at the lack of his touch.

He then moves onto catching your eye at every meal time. Upon which he smirks, running a hand over his jaw, not missing the way your eyes track the movement of his fingers. You turn away with a frown, drawing Professor Flitwick into a conversation about the latest journal on charms.

He decides to interrupt one of your lessons on the second day of his revenge. He enters your classroom using the ruse of searching for a student. Your mouth dries as you run your eyes up and down his body. His work overalls are tied at the waist; his muscles gloriously defined by a tight white t-shirt spattered with dirt from the plants, and the tattoos he got in memorial for the second wizarding war stand out against his lightly tanned skin.

In the years you had known Neville, you had watched him transform from a bumbling teenager into what could only be described as a Greek God.

The expression that falls across his face as you take in the sight of him makes it very clear to you that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You refuse to let him see how he’s getting to you. You shift your attention back to your class; not missing the way Thomas Cresswell points at Frances Bainbridge across the room, calling for the outcome of their bet. You roll your eyes at Thomas and Frances as you let the student Neville came for leave the classroom.

-----------

“What are you doing?” You hiss at him on the third day of his revenge.

He smirks, “Absolutely nothing.”

“If this is your revenge for my prank, it’s messed up, Longbottom.”

Neville’s eyes widen; his face the picture of perfect innocence, “What makes you think that?”

He walks away before you can answer, leaving you questioning the last week of your life.

You finish your week confused and frustrated. The feelings that had always been present for Neville were riled up; you were thinking of him more often, remembering how his thigh felt pressed against yours and the attention he paid you from across the Great Hall at every meal time.

Your heart races every time you think of him, and your stomach erupts in butterflies. You spend your free periods thinking of how he would feel pressed against you, and how his stubble would feel under your lips. More often than not, you would find yourself with your head in your hands, cursing the day you ever let the Herbology professor into your life.

----------

It was the very last thing you wanted to do, but it was something you needed to do. A headache had been brewing now for three days, ever since Neville cooled off with his revenge for your chalkboard prank. The headache was making you sharper with your students that you intended to be.

This wasn’t a usual headache though; it had stemmed from your witches-eye - becoming a seer’s headache very quickly. The only way this could be relieved was to fall into it; opening your eye and being shown what you needed to see.

You find Neville in one of the many greenhouses dedicated to Herbology. He stands over the freshly potted Mandrakes, sprinkling fertiliser on them. You lean against the door to the greenhouse, rubbing the centre of your forehead. “Longbottom, I wouldn’t usually ask this of you, but I need access to the restricted greenhouse.”

Neville frowns, “Why would you need to go there?”

“There’s a plant I need. Would you please take me?”

“It’s nothing dangerous is it?”

You shake your head, refusing to speak as it would give away your lie.

Neville takes a set of keys from his pocket, searching for a minute for the lesser-used key. You follow him as he leads you to the restricted greenhouse. Such as with the library, the greenhouses had an area controlled against student use for it grew plants that were not only dangerous, but deadly. Mandrakes were one thing - the plants grown here had helped dark wizards gain fame, fortune, power, and all at a cost.

Neville waits at the door as you walk through the greenhouse, looking for the pale yellow flower covered in veins. You find it in little to no time at all, picking a few flowers from the plant. A petal would be fine for now; Henbane could be deadly if used in large quantities. Taking more than what you needed was your way of assuring that you wouldn’t need to bother Neville again.

You make your way back to Neville, smiling smally at the questioning expression on his face. “Did you get everything you need?” he asks.

You nod, patting the little bag in which you had stored the Henbane flowers, “I got it. Thank you, Neville.”

The walk back to the staff room is in silence. You make to walk back to your tower, ready to start the drying process for the Henbane flower, but a hand grips your wrist. You turn to find Neville holding you in place, “You’re being careful, aren’t you (Y/N)? There’s a reason that greenhouse is restricted.”

You pull your wrist from his grip, “I’ll be fine, Neville. Thanks for your concern.”

You walk away before he can say anything else.

--------

Nothing felt clear; everything felt frazzled and vague. It was as if the very threads of your life had become a tangled, snarled mess. Your realisation of your feelings for Neville had left you in a lurch; you’ve caught him watching you multiples times now – all with a puzzled expression on his face, as if reliving the restricted greenhouse and the revenge from your prank on him.

Your hands run over the top of scrying bowl. The bowl had been handed down to you by your grandmother who had been a powerful seer; it depicts the Triple Goddess in her three forms – maiden, mother, crone.

Incense fills your office; the scent of the Black Henbane given to you by Neville. Henbane had been demonised for centuries; scholars noting that it was used in ointments and could help with conjuring of spirits.

You inhale its smell; your witches-eye opening, more sensitive in the right environment. So few witches possessed the gifts of a seer, it was rare for you to use your talent – usually letting the prophecies and such come to you naturally.

But this was needed. You needed answers for why your tea leaves were conflicting and why your tarot readings were not making sense.

An ethereal voice calls out in greeting, signalling that you had reached the other side, “You called me, daughter.”

“The path is foggy, and I’ve lost my way. I thought I was certain but now I’m not.”

“There is no way forward that does not have him in it.”

“What do you mean?”

“The one who gave you the Henbane to call me forth. He is with you through it all.”

Neville? Neville.

“He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t even like me.”

“Do not be too sure, daughter.”

Your eyebrows pull together, a puzzled expression taking over your face. You knew your feelings for the professor had changed; had felt the long dormant passion flare again but there was nothing to be done about it.

The pull of the spirits is intoxicating; you can feel their hands on your shoulders and arms, caressing your face, pulling you closer and closer – begging you to help them find peace, to answer their questions, to help pay the ferryman but you cannot.

A male voice shouting your name has you refusing the screams of the spirits.

The voice shouts again; it’s closer now, corporeal hands shake your shoulders in an attempt to pull you out of your trance, but there’s no luck.

The goddess bids you farewell before everything falls black.

----------

Your vision comes back to you slowly; black spots still dancing across your view of the vaulted ceiling of the hospital wing. You groan at the pounding in your head, bringing a hand up to rub at your forehead.

“(Y/N)?” A male voice asks; a familiar voice.

The feeling of a cool cloth being pressed to your forehead has you sighing in relief, “That feels nice.”

Neville’s face comes into view; his eyes run over your face, checking for what – you don’t know. “You’ve been in contact with higher powers – that’s why you asked for Black Henbane, isn’t it?”

You take the cool cloth from him, “I needed to see something.”

“You put yourself at risk doing this.” Neville bluntly states.

You groan, “I know.”

“Was it worth it?” He asks, narrowing his eyes, “Did you get your answers?”

You nod, averting your eyes – focusing on the vaulted ceiling rather than the man sitting next to you. Shame washes over you from the tone of his voice – reproach mixed with something akin to worry. You smile a little, “Neville Longbottom,” you tease, “Were you worried about me?”

“What was so important that you needed to contact higher powers? You know how addicting they can be!” He chides; ignoring your question completely.

You purse your lips, refusing to answer.

Neville leans forward in his chair, bracing his elbows on his knees, “What was so important?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“I was the one who found you, did you know that? I found you bent over your scrying bowl, talking to spirits and the higher powers. It was me who pulled you out before they could take something more permanent.”

“And I’m grateful for that, Neville.”

“But you won’t tell me why you had to consult them?”

You push yourself into a sitting position slowly; pausing only to stave off the wave of dizziness and nausea. Neville stands, his hands outstretched to help but you wave him away, telling him you’re okay. He doesn’t look like his believes you, but he steps back, nonetheless.

“I needed some answers about my future, about my feelings. It’s all so blurred, even my tea leaves don’t make sense!”

“So you decided to use your scrying bowl? (Y/N), you had trouble with this when we were students.”

“I’m surprised you remember.”

“Of course I remember, why wouldn’t I?”

“We weren’t exactly the best of friends.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t notice you.”

“You noticed me?”

“I always notice you, that’s how I found you. You asking for Black Henbane had me consulting my own textbooks and when I read it was used to help see the future more clearly, I followed you.”

You both lapse into a heavy, charged silence. Neville throws his hands in the air before setting them on his hips as he paces the two steps in front of your bed. You want to groan in frustration; want to scream and shout but it would do no good.

“What are we doing, Neville?” You finally ask, voice tired and head foggy.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean us. The pranks, the teasing, the unresolved tension.”

Neville sits back down, crossing his arms, “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

You pull the cloth from your forehead, glaring at the brunette, “Oh that’s a load of bullshit and you know it.”

He glares in return but doesn’t say a word.

“We have been dancing around this for years, Neville. I’m sick of having to pretend I hate you.”

“You don’t hate me?”

You shake your head, “You piss me the fuck off, but I don’t hate you.”

“I don’t hate you either.” He whispers.

“So what do we do?”

“Honestly, I’d like to take you out to dinner,” Neville states, confidence running through his body.

“Dinner?”

“What’s wrong with dinner?”

You bite your lip, running your eyes over him. He’s standing again, as if unable to sit still through this conversation. His eyes are bright with happiness and another emotion you can’t quite put your finger on; he’s entirely delectable. Merlin, in for a penny, as the muggles say, “How about we skip dinner and go to back to my rooms?”

Neville leans in close; his breath fanning over your face. He smells like recently mown grass, freshly fallen rain, and a hint of lime. It’s intoxicating. His eyes search yours for permission; you granting it as you tilt your face up to meet his, you close your eyes at his proximity, taking it all in. He lightly brushes his lips against yours, with a feather-light pressure that has you chasing him for more. He pulls away with a light chuckle at the look of frustration on your face.

“After dinner,” he promises.

The note of promise in his voice has your breath quickening and your toes curling. In the time that you had known this man, you had hated him but now, all you did was crave him.

His touch, his look, his attention. The goddess had promised you that there was no version of your future without him in it, and now...

And now, you were more than ready for that future.

“I’ll hold you to that.” You murmur, breathless from the thoughts running through your head.

---------

A month later:

Neville finds you in your classroom writing the information for your first lesson of the day on the board in chalk. He leans against the door as he closes it. Neville watches you; his eyes running over every curve and dip in your body, thinking of how less than twelve hours ago he was worshipping it with his mouth and hands. He bites down a groan at the memory; your gasps and moans echoing in his ear – he can still feel the dull ache of the scratches on his back, from your fingernails reaching for purchase.

He struts over to you; enjoying the surprised yelp that leaves your mouth as his arms wrap around your stomach, but he loves the way you soon relax into him, your hands coming to rest on top of his. Neville presses a kiss to the crook between your neck and ear, smirking against your skin as he hears your breath hitch.

Neville leans close, his mouth to your ear, “I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.”

You hum happily, arching into the touch of his hands as they trail lower, starting to undo the fastenings to your skirt.

You knew he would come; you’d played another prank on him, but this time you knew what the outcome would be.

You turn your face, pressing your lips to his cheek before trailing them across his jawbone, enjoying the look of your lipstick staining his skin. “What did you have in mind?” you whisper, breathless from the excitement coursing through your veins.

He smirks as he bends you face down over your desk.

*************

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @dreamer821 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes

#neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom #neville longbottom fanfic #neville longbottom x you #neville longbottom x y/n #enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers au #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #neville longbottom fanfiction #neville longbottom one shot #neville longbottom imagines #harry potter imagines #hp fanfiction #hp fanfic

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evandearest · 3 years

Text

The Garden of Eden | Part IV: Betrayal

Pairing: James March x reader (you) | ~Part: (4/4)~

Summary (Part Four): Warnings are to be remembered, although most stored away for future use only to be forgotten. Cycles repeat to teach lessons; to warn of future events. Threats may remain even if not for the blind eye to see. However, ignorance might be the biggest threat of all.

Warnings (in this part): murder, blood, death, poison, religious twists, dark themes

Word Count: 5,018 (haha this part ended up with the most words... to end it off I suppose!)

Notes: This is the last part of the Garden of Eden! I just want to say thank you to all who read - especially @etoile-writings , for supporting me. Please go check out her series Adam and Eve, as it is a literary masterpiece and she deserves so much recognition.

I have seriously had so much fun writing this - it really has been my pleasure. I also want to apologize to all those who may have been waiting for awhile for the final part! Disclaimer: I tried my best to edit the grammar and everything in this but this is the best I could do! I hope there’s not many mistakes I may have missed. Please ask any questions and give me all your comments about this finale - I’d love to hear any and all thoughts! I also hope everyone is safe, healthy, and happy :) Feel free to send in other requests, whether it be AHS or Supernatural.

Also a heads up - keep a look out for the final review and analysis if you are interested. It is still in progress but it should be out within a couple of days at best.

A few side notes - the Countess and James are still legally married here, as they are in the show, but in this situation it is only because they haven’t gotten the chance to divorce. This part may seem to have very long sentences, but I just wanted to let you guys know that it is a writing technique that I used to create mood, tone, and theme. That’s all, thanks!

Tag List: @etoile-writings @haileyybird @ietss

Something about the young couple in the bar had your mind reeling. Their hands remained interlocked on the table, both of them staring at one another with all the joy and adoration that only true love can bring. Their relationship was new and exciting. The honeymoon phase was always so perfect. You remembered how that had felt with James; so invigoratingly energizing. It was enough to make you feel as if you ruled the world; love blinding a vision of truth. It was, for many years, what you had considered paradise to be.

Paradise.

You realized now that it never had been perfect with you and James. There were so many things standing in the way, so many hidden threats. When you were younger, it had been your parents and their obsessive need to marry you off like an object to a rich man. Even as he had began his journey to success, James’ social status as new money hadn’t seemed good enough to them. When you had first gotten back with James only just around a month ago, you had thought that you’d conquered everything. You had been blind to the truth which was right in front of you once again. You should have expected some kind of change in James. It was inevitable, after all that time spent apart.

But now, however, right at this present moment... well, now, everything was out in the open. Now, you and James truly understood one another. Now there really was nothing in your way. You could see no obstacles ahead, no threat, so long as James was by your side. All you saw was James, and all that clouded your mind was your admiration and devotion to him. He was your everything; your soulmate, your leader, your God. He had dragged you from the fire and brought your paradise back to you; good, true, and everlasting this time around. Your precious Garden of Eden, controlled by none other but you and your God.

Your God; who had been the utmost of clever in his recent schemes. He’d been outraged when he did it, but it wasn’t to say that he wasn’t brilliant. He was of excellent prosecution; his statement out in the open and clear. A Sunday morning: police finding piles of dead bodies compiled with numerous copies of nothing other than the book of God himself. It was sadistic and morbid, but it was perfect. It was everything that James needed to say. He was on the verge of something momentously renowned.

Once James was finished, no one would ever forget his message: religion was the worst thing to happen to society. It controlled the will of man, when truly nothing in creation could stop anything. Everyone was put equal on the Earth to sin, to live in the most pleasurable way.

It was the entire reason Adam and Eve had been cast down. They were sinners, except the garden was a place controlled by God’s rules. They had wanted to control their own lives, so God banished them to Earth. James, however, had created his own paradise; his own Garden of Eden. He had climbed so far above all other men that he now controlled the garden. He had to prove to others the ridiculousness of holiness--for all were meant to sin. Religion was, essentially, suppression. To some, it may seem horrible, but to you, it was art. A simple expression of belief that most didn’t understand.

Voices floated into your ears, startling you out of your thoughts. Soft echoes through the lobby of your beloved’s name piqued your interest, your feet immediately carrying you to the railing without much thought. You left your drink on the bar’s counter--still full, but long forgotten. Your eyes landed on four men clad in black suits, shiny gold badges on their shoulders reflecting light from the chandeliers above. You scanned the area, noticing a certain maid standing close by, listening in, much like you were.

“We have suspicion based upon evidence that Mr. March was involved in the murder this past Sunday. We have already taken the time to get a warrant for his arrest,” one of the officers explained to the receptionist at the front desk. Time seemed to take a standstill, your heart seeming to stop completely as your brain registered the man’s words. No, this couldn’t be happening.

The cycle was repeating again. They were trying to tear you apart again.

You didn’t understand how this could’ve happened. He said he was careful, and you could never see James making a mistake with something this important. He was detail-oriented, his brain practically ran off of the certainty of perfectionism. He would never let a small mistake ruin everything for him.

The entire empire he’d built, and everything you’d rebuilt, was about to be destroyed all over again.

Your body seemed to catch up with your mind as you sprung into action. You twisted around, your feet pushing you forward only to come to a halt at the close proximity of the once unknown presence behind you. Your eyes widened, a sharp breath escaping your lips at the stop you made compared to your sudden momentum. You stared into the eyes of none other than The Countess, clad in only the most extravagant clothing and makeup.

“That’ll be a hard one to get out of,” she said, although her face was seemingly expressionless. You stared at her, your frenzied brain jumping to the first conclusion you could make.

“Did you...” you trailed off, your breathing suddenly heavy. James couldn’t have made the mistake, so that means that somebody else had to of given the police some kind of tip in order for them to seek James out. The woman standing before you was quite possibly the number one suspect. “Did you do this?” Your voice held tones of disbelief and anger.

Would Elizabeth really go to such extent when she hadn’t even expressed a major disliking? She hadn’t talked to you at all since that first time, in fact the only interactions you’d had with one another were passing glances. She’d seemed to have just steered clear of anything to do with you or James. You had no idea what she had thought, but you had supposed that she didn’t care about you and James, otherwise she would have spoke her concerns. Had you been wrong about her? Could a simple mistake end it all over again? Elizabeth scoffed, her face hardening.

“Oh God no...” she said wryly, a small sarcastic grin forming on her lips as she looked at you quizzically, “what would I get out of it now? As I am still his present wife, I don’t need James dead to use his money. And besides, now that he has you he no longer bothers me.” She was smug as she spoke to you. She grinned, all teeth and mischief, her eyes sparkling. “It’s a winning situation for the both of us if you ask me.” She paused, her grin falling slightly as her gaze wondered off to peer down into the lobby.

“I could bet I know who the rat is, though,” She said, turning back to you. “I’m wagering it’s his loyal minion. That poor woman has been in love with James since the beginning of time.” She paused, her eyes intense as they rested on your face. “And based on your expression you think so too.” She smiled at you and then turned, walking slowly away from you. “Good luck,” she called back to you without turning around, your eyes watching her back as she went.

You stood contemplating her words for a moment. Elizabeth was smart and straightforward, and from what you could tell if she had a problem she would speak her mind. And what she had said made sense. Miss Evers was in love with James, but her love was unrequited, and that’s why she constantly seemed at odds with you. She could never even have a chance to be with him, so long as you were around.

Your feet carried you quickly as you raced to the elevator. The police were still conversing with the receptionist, but you knew it was only a matter of time before they found out where James was. You recalled a conversation you’d had with him in the morning, concluding that he had to be caught up attending to his hobby.

The police would find him in his office, in the middle of his business, and it would all be over. He would be taken from you once again.

You didn’t even knock upon arriving; you opened the door and closed it quickly behind you. You turned to face James, in all his blood-covered, god-like glory. You took in the scene of James’ office quickly, your eyes tracing over every detail. A large bin sat in the center of the room, a rugged corpse contained within it. James had been busying himself with pouring a substance over the body, of which could only be acid, as it had sizzled upon impact with the dead man’s skin. At your arrival, James halted his methods in confusion.

Several items were scattered across the floor, one of which catching your interest. The glass of the vase; a damp spot surrounding the area where the unaltered mess remained. The roses remained too, the petals wilting from lack of nourishment. You paused, your mind trying to puzzle out their unmoved position. Miss Evers had to have been in here since last night, so why wouldn’t she move them? She might have been scheming, but she was extremely adamant on being neat when it came to James’ specific rooms. You couldn’t see her ignoring it, and yet here it was sitting puzzlingly. You were caught off guard for a reason not entirely known to you. Something about their appearance had you alarmed, a string of words suddenly ringing out in your head; perhaps a memory brought to the surface.

“If you betray the rose, the rose no longer profits you.”

The old woman was suddenly prevalent in your mind, her warning dawning upon you, your heartbeat stuttering at the looming echo of her words. James was waiting for you to explain yourself--the police were coming--Miss Evers had betrayed you--everything you and James had worked so hard for was crumbling down around you. Your heartbeat was fast, the pulse beating quickly, perhaps the reason for the pounding in your head.

You looked James in the eyes, studying his features. He was so handsome--even before you knew him, that day in the garden when you had first seen him--you had marveled at his beauty. And that was before he’d become such a man; his features sharp and masculine, beautifully sculpted by the gods. His dark brown eyes and hair, so dull yet so prominent--a symbol of his darkness. You could stare at him for eternity and never bore, your love for him everlasting.

And yet, here you were at the end with no escape, hell a threat once again hanging above your heads, looming just around the corner. Just a few more minutes and everything would be over. Just a few more minutes and you’d be lost again, stranded without your guide; your purpose--your God.

“James,” you gasped, stumbling slightly as you made your way to him. You’d just managed to get to him before you fell over slightly, your arms reaching out to grasp onto his tightly. He caught you, keeping you level as his face filled with concern. The pounding in your head was intense, beginning to drown out your thoughts and quicken your breath.

“Darling, tell me--what is it?” James demanded, his voice panic-stricken. He lifted your chin to look you in the eyes, his widened orbs meeting yours with intensity.

“I-it’s--the- the police,” you barely managed to get the words out, clinging onto James like he was your lifeline. Nothing seemed right; your thoughts suddenly taking too long to form into words, your breathing heavy, vision blurry, and it was becoming much harder to stand. What was happening? You stared into James eyes, shifting all your focus into him. “They’re here to arrest you.” One hand gripped his arm firmly as you brought the other to rest upon his cheekbone, leaning chest to chest as your body began to collapse into him. He held you steady, forever the one and only thing to truly support you. “They’re going to take you from me,” you sobbed, an onslaught of tears overcoming you. “Again,” you cried quietly, gasping for air.

The door opened, your heart skipping a beat at the intrusion, your mind going straight to the thought of the police. Your eyes landed on Miss Evers instead, confusion settling on you once again. She’d gotten what she wanted, hadn’t she? Why was she here now, to prove something? You wished you had the strength to question her, to say anything, but everything felt heavier and heavier as more time passed.

“Tell me,” James barked at her just as she’d closed and locked the door, “what in all creation is happening? Speak right this instant, and quickly.”

“The police are here,” Miss Evers explained, James grip on you tightening as you leaned onto him for support. He glanced down at you, worry glinting in his eyes as you just barely managed to look up at him.

“Darling,” he whispered, “what is happening? Are you ill?” A moment of silence passed as you tried to respond, your mouth opening but no words becoming audible. A moment of silence passed, the only action being James assessing you. Your words couldn’t seem to form, a burning spreading through your entire body. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt. You began to wonder yourself if you were somehow ill.

“It was supposed to be me!”

The maid across the room suddenly shrieked, desperation clouding her judgement as she flung her arms up in the air. “I was the one for you!” She sobbed, stumbling slightly as an expression of hurt formed upon her face. “I always loved you, and these women--they never did! They used you, and I always cared!” James eyes widened, shock coming across his features. He stared at the woman, contemplating her words.

“But you never saw,” the woman said sadly, her head hanging in shame before her face went emotionless. “And so I did the only thing I could.” She looked at him, dead in the eye, a type of malice suddenly overcoming her. “You’d be surprised how easy it was.” Her eyes settled upon your frame, your head moving slowly to get a glance at her. You stared, blinking rapidly as your vision faded in and out. You could barely comprehend what she was saying, but you felt as James’ breath quickened. It was taking all of your willpower to stay awake--you needed to, for James.

“What?” he stated, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it, a rage within his eyes even you had never seen before as he stared at her. He was tense, as hard as a rock, glaring daggers at the woman who had seemingly betrayed him.

“I--,” Miss Evers hesitated, obviously intimidated by his fury, but decided to continue. “I’ve found that you have a secret stash of cyanide in the bar.” She faltered once again, her eyes shifting away from James and to the floor. “I wanted us to be together, and she-” she pointed at you, “-she was always in it for the money! They all are, all but me!” She burst into tears, falling onto her knees in hysterics. Your eyebrows furrowed as you racked your brain to gather all of the information. She poisoned you at the bar. You remembered brief flashbacks of the one tiny sip you’d taken of your previously forgotten drink.

James seemed to be shaking as he gently moved you to sit in a chair by the wall, turning away from you for only a moment. Your eyelids began to flutter as sleep beckoned you, visions of James’ movement around the room the only thing to hold your focus. A loud pop suddenly reverberated off of the walls as it rang out, causing you to sit up slightly from your slouched posture, your eyelids flying open to search for the source. James stood over the body of his betrayer, smoking gun resting within his palm.

You felt so weak, your thoughts jumbled, unable to focus on only one. Only now you knew it wasn’t just an overreaction. You’d only taken a mere sip of the drink from the bar, but you supposed now that it had been enough for the poison to go into effect. You wondered briefly how she’d gotten the cyanide into the drink in the first place, and exactly how much she had put in for it to have such a potent effect on your body.

Your eyes traveled to her corpse, and to the fresh blood splattered across the wall from the headshot. You blinked, barely registering what had just occurred before you. You were too dazed to process the incident, even if you understood what had occurred subconsciously. Relief was the only thing you felt; relief for one less thing to worry about standing between you and James.

Eyes shifting slightly to the left, you stared at the browning roses, the sweet old lady’s warning once again echoing, a distant memory brought to the surface of your mind. James crouched in front of you, suddenly the only thing in line of sight, his lips moving but you couldn’t hear his voice over your own in your head. The roses were dead. You left them on the floor. You betrayed them for--

You sprung up once again as a loud banging at the door shocked you back into your senses. James glanced briefly at the door before turning back to you quickly. He pulled you out of the chair, holding you up and close to his chest as he stroked your hair tenderly.

“James,” you just barely whispered as he shushed you.

“I know, darling,” He said reassuringly, pulling back to look into your eyes. “It’s all going to be okay, dear. It’ll all be over before you know it.” He smiled charmingly as you nodded weakly, holding tightly onto the cloth of his shirt to maintain stability. And you believed him in that moment, as he always seemed to find a way.

One way, or another.

You rested your head on his chest, closing your eyes as the pounding on the door increased. Or maybe it was the pounding in your head; at this point you couldn’t decipher what was real and what was just a figment of your imagination. Cold metal pressed against the skin of your temple, your brain too bleary to question it. Mere seconds passed as you contemplated moving, but suddenly it was as if everything had settled away. James’ warm body faded from your grasp.

-🤍-

Your eyelids fluttered open, eyeballs moving back and forth as you tried to become familiar with your surroundings. You recognized the familiar room immediately, for it was your bedroom when you had first moved into the Cortez. You felt strange. Zen, almost, but maybe that was just because the pounding was gone. You felt... disconnected. It was the most out of touch with yourself you’d ever felt.

You climbed to your feet from the floor, thoughts running rampant at what was unknown to you. Where was James, how did you get here, how long had you been here, and why did you feel so cold? Flashes of what seemed to be both years ago and only moments ago clouded your mind, filling you with dread. Scenarios of what could be frightened you and sent you into a state of panic, pushing you forward.

Out of the room you went, through the quiet and empty halls, searching, searching, searching--no fixed destination ahead except something, anything, that could lead you to your James.

It seemed that days had passed before you finally found the lobby of the hotel. Navigation through the building was proving to be much more difficult than you remembered. Why was it taking so long?

The lobby was sparsely populated, unlike the usually crowded area that you were used to. You glanced around, noticing only a few people in the bar, the receptionist, and someone asleep on the sofas. Your feet carried you to the hotel entrance, pushing the first door open, the sunlight peeking through the opaque glass surprising you. If it was the daytime, then why was the hotel so empty? On ordinary occasions people came and went like flies; the Cortez was a hotspot in the city of Los Angeles, after all. Your hands reached out to push open the door to the outside, the metal handle of the door cool against your skin, and then suddenly nothing. In front of you was the door no longer; profound confusion coursing through you as you stared at the walls of your bedroom once again. You had been there one second, and in the next it was as if you had been teleported back in time.

And so the cycle repeated for what seemed like years; many times set adrift through the halls, eventually to the lobby where the sunlight no longer shone through the windows and unusually few people inhabited. You were reaching forward for the handle of the first door for what seemed to be the hundredth time, only to freeze at the call of your name from a familiar voice.

“Y/N.”

Your name sounded of honey dripping off his tongue. It was like hearing that voice for the first time again. All your worries deflated and anxieties subsided--for you had found your God once again. You turned to face him, to see his face--the face you had longed to see for what felt like years but may have been minutes. You still didn’t entirely understand the detachment from your body you felt; it was as if you no longer had a life source, no blood running course or lungs cycling air. You felt out of place and trapped at the same time.

Just as your hopes had soared, they plummeted at the sight of the bare lobby. Emptiness sat instead where you had expected James to be, crushing all sense of direction. You wanted to cry, to scream, to tear the hotel to shreds with your bare hands. But just before you gave up all hope completely, your eyes caught on the tiniest of details.

Barely noticeable, unless payed close attention to; unless already a prominent object in one’s mind. Small, dainty, white petals lay scattered in high correlation, leading on to an unknown but obviously specific destination. You treaded lightly as you followed the path closely, afraid any disturbance would somehow make them disappear.

Unease settled through you, possibly just a usual feeling as of late, but considerably appropriate when meeting the isolate hallways once again. You began questioning your sanity; was this just yet another repeat in the cycle? You’d been lost for so long, was this just another loop? What was the energy here, and why did it not feel like you and James’ beloved Cortez, the place you called home? You felt like you were stuck in a punishment of some kind; a purgatory; a hell.

And at last, you arrived; the room in which this cycle had began, or ended. The office of James Patrick March: Room sixty-four. You paused, contemplating, before making a bold decision and gripping the handle, opening the door and entering the room. There you stood in what was once James’ office, now empty of most furniture, only few items remaining. And there it remained: the vase on the table in the center of the room, petals leading straight to their source.

Inside sat the very white roses themselves, southern California glory and all. They looked just like the ones in that very first garden: huge, bright and beaming, petals spread with all the beauty and radiance of nature and purity. And just behind them stood their God; the master of the garden who held the utmost control in his realm. Your God, who’d saved you from hell; who’d broke all cycles.

The feeling you felt at sight of James did not fail to excite you just the same as it had on that first day years ago. Something about his presence next to yours soothed you, for you knew that he was still there, that he hadn’t been taken from you, that no matter what had happened you were still okay so long as he stood next to you.

You rushed forward and into him, basking in his embrace. His arms wrapped around you, but the challenge once again presented itself: an unignorably apparent absence of warmth. It’d been just before you’d first woken up what seemed like years, or maybe just hours ago, that you’d been in his embrace just the same, his warmth seeping into you and igniting your soul as you had faded in and out of consciousness. But now, you couldn’t feel it. You felt his body wrapped around yours, but nothing inflaming, the detachment from your own warmth just the same. It was missing, a shell of a comfort that used to always be present; something you had gotten entirely used to, for to be absent of warmth was to be dead...

You gasped, pulling away from James to look him in the eyes, the reality setting in and the drunkenness fading away. Your mind was becoming clear, all clarity suddenly bestowed upon you.

“James, are we...” you froze in panic, for it felt as if you didn’t have lungs, the normal rise and fall of the simplicity of breathing gone... the feelings of life were all gone...

And it clicked.

“James,” you whispered, your eyes tracing over the details of the room. The blood stains on the floor and walls were the only evidence of foul play left. You felt strange, for people didn’t normally expect to see the place of their death after the fact. Realizations settled over you as you stared at the room, just as you had initially when entering to warn James of the police, the truth of the events that had happened finally dawning upon you. In your poison-induced state of mind, it’d been hard to realize. You had been dying, the poison slowly but surely shutting your body down. You’d barely processed it when James had held the gun to your head and pulled the trigger, ending your pain.

“Yes, darling?” James replied to you, bringing you back to your conversation. You stared at him longingly. Although you didn’t entirely understand why you were still here, or the concept of the afterlife, you were glad to have James next to you. A moment of silence passed as you tried to pinpoint what you wanted to ask him exactly.

“I have so many questions,” you said, deciding to just speak your mind. You furrowed your eyebrows, blinking rapidly as you tried to sort out your thoughts. “I-I’m so lost, James.”

“Of course you are, dearest,” James said reassuringly, his hand brushing the stray hairs away from your face. He stared at you sadly. “I’m terribly sorry for all that happened, you must feel perplexed beyond understanding my dear.” He paused, his eyes traveling over your features as you stared up at him, listening intently. “This was simply my only choice, darling. You were succumbing to the poison’s grip long before I finished your pain. Miss Evers...” He trailed off, his jaw clenching tightly. “Nevermind that. I came to a conclusion upon the authorities’ arrival, and that was that if I was damned to be put away I might as well flee with you, my queen... it was the only right option.” He smiled down at you softly.

You smiled right back at him, your love for him the only warmth left inside of you now that you no longer had your body to call home. You basked in the feeling of being close to him as he pulled you to his chest, his lips leaving a soft kiss against your scalp. Even if you didn’t feel warmth, simply the love you had for him was enough. He tenderly stroked your back, calming your nerves. It amazed you how he could ease your mind so easily, if only just a little. However, you couldn’t shake your thoughts away. Sure, you could just let it all go, but the truth of the matter was simple.

Your entire life had been a cycle. A cycle of undeniable foolishness; you’d been ignorant of the truth for all of your living years. Oh, how it angered you. You hated something truly for what seemed like the first time in your life. You hated yourself; you’d let yourself believe false truths just to live in an illusion that you thought was happiness. You were naïve. And ultimately, that was what had ended you.

You’d ignored all warnings and left the roses to wilt, betraying the one thing that had always been on your side. You’d ignored all threats and committed yourself to making paradise in the land of the evil; it was simply impossible. The Garden of Eden wasn’t a place for the living. It was a place of freedom, and so long as you’re living, you can never truly be free. For in life, one threat always remains: death. You could never truly be protected. You could never truly have paradise.

But with James, in the Cortez, in the paradise he’d created for you... even death didn’t stand a chance. It was a gateway to greatness; a place where nothing truly stood in your way, where no threats were great enough. You couldn’t be harmed, or imprisoned, or separated here; you were finally utterly invincible; real Gods. Hell and Earth were no longer a threat. It was your true paradise that James had promised you.

Your Garden of Eden.

---------

Series Masterlist: The Garden of Eden Series

Main Masterlist

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twistedlymad · 4 years

Note

Hello there I love your writing and read your headcannons for riddle with his child it was so sweet I wanted to ask if you could also do one for jade and floyd, only if you want to(:

Let me just say: Due to me experiencing Chapter 4, I have never ever been so happy to see the faces of Azul, Jade and Floyd. I’m just kidding, I already love them when their chapter debuted XD

Of course I’d write for Jade and Floyd!! Leech twins need all the love they can get! I do hope this headcanon is up to your expectations dear Anon! Thank you for requesting and have a lovely day!!

Also, once again, this features an aged up!Jade and Floyd. Side note, the baby is half human, half merfolk!

I hope I wrote their characters well, I may need more practice writing them OwO (P.S IDK why I spent 5 hours on this.... I hope it was worth it QwQ)

Jade Leech

Jade would be the type of father that’s calm and collected at all times. So, when he finally caught wind of the news of his child, one can only see him having a closed-eye smile on his face. Do not fret though! In fact, internally, he was over the moon!

He couldn’t believe it at first, he was having a BABY?! A SMALL CHILD?! A LITERAL LIVING CHILD?! So, shock could be found on his face as the realization slowly sunk it’s way into his head. Then, only came the closed-eye smile that I mentioned earlier.

He would go shopping for baby products as preparation for his young one. He would also do research on what would the baby normally eat, what signs would the baby normally show when they’re feeling a certain mood and so on, after all, he hasn’t seen a human/merfolk baby before, let alone take care of one! With the research he’s done, he could apply his newfound knowledge onto the products that he buys for his young one.

Literally, everything is perfect because he is perfect.

When his baby actually arrives, a tear slides down from his eye as he hears the crying sounds of a child, the crying sounds of HIS child. He has never heard anything so precious and cute in his entire life. Once he gets a good look at his young one, more tears start to come out as the nurse hands him his young one. He lets out a gentle smile and hugs his young one close to him, silently swearing to love his young one with all his heart only give the best of the best to his precious little gem.

All the baby products he bought beforehand actually came in handy. They definitely suited his young one well! From the type of food/nutrients his young one needs to eat to the size of their clothing, Jade would have calculated everything down to it’s very last detail.

He would try to indulge his young one into his hobbies! He would set his young one in a high chair and make small little terrariums in front of them and his young one would just watch in awe. He would explain what he was doing, the type of plants used and his young one would respond either with a small little nod or just random words that they could say.

“And this mushroom is called the Agaricus bisporus. We’ll put some of these in here so your mother can cook something for us when it grows.” “Dada-A-Goo-Ga!!” “Yes, of course! We can’t forget to do that!”

Jade would also tuck his little one in bed every night and plant a kiss on their head as he slowly exits the room.

Oh! Swimming lessons are a must as his child is also part-merfolk! He would want his child to be able to adapt to both water and land environments at an early age, that way, his young one is able to handle walking and swimming without any problems. He doesn’t want his precious little one to be like him when he first used his legs to walk.

Jade would also teach his young one proper manners and etiquette, or at least try to. He wouldn’t enforce the manners on his young one if they’re uncomfortable with it. But, he still would set a good example for his young one and hopefully his precious one will follow in his footsteps.

He would also take the young one mountain climbing every weekend! He would bring his precious one to go for a hike or just a little walk in a baby carrier. He wants his little one to love nature as much as he does and would look forward to many MANY outdoor activities with his precious one. He would also show his little one all the different types of fauna that could be found during the little trips they take.

As his precious little one continues to grow up, Jade decides to send them to human kindergarten instead of merfolk kindergarten. And since Jade doesn’t really know how human kindergarten worked, he would stick around the school for the first few days, just to observe his little one and what actually happens at the kindergarten.

He may or may not just went there to spy on his little one, making sure they aren’t bullied or whatsoever. Who knows am I right?

He’ll also be more cautious about their feelings. He wants to know that his child is safe and happy and that they aren’t bottling up their feelings whatsoever. At some point, Jade would’ve told his young one about his unique magic, so, lying is not an option at all. But, at the same time, Jade would usually initiate the conversation with his little one, just to let them be comfortable with telling him about either their day at school or just schoolwork in general.

If his young one is having a bad day, expect a lot of bonding time! And I mean A LOT of bonding time. Literally, Jade would either be seen having tea with his young one or just having a small nature walk with them. Anything to cheer his little one up. In the midst of ‘happy-cheeful-father-kid’ time, Jade would ask why they were down.

If the reason was because of schoolwork or just something else in general, he would do his best to help them and make them forget about their troubles by cheering them up.

However, if the reason was because of a person....

Huh? What? That child had to be transferred because they were exposed of their precious lies? Ugh, kids nowadays am I right?

Jade loves his little one with all his heart. Like I’ve said, he only wants the best for them and he would do anything and everything to make sure that his precious little one gets the ABSOLUTE best. He would ensure that his little one is happy and not stressed out at all. In fact, his child loves nature as much as he does and his little one always manages to surprise him with little terrariums of their own. Jade is glad that his precious one can find happiness in the things that he finds happiness in as well. He is very grateful to have this little precious child come into his life and he is very proud of his little one.

His little one is absolutely glad to have such a perfect and understanding father and they love their father with all their heart as well. They know they could rely on him anytime and they do hope to be like him someday.

I’m sorry, this person is too perfect for me to actually write anything, so, just imagine the perfect father and BAM, you have Jade :’))

Floyd Leech

Okay, to put it in a simple way, everything that I had written for Jade, Floyd is the exact opposite.

I’m just kidding! I don’t wanna be squeezed by him :’)))

Or do I???

All jokes aside! Floyd would the type of father that is fun and carefree all the time! But! He’s also serious when needed. So, when he first heard news of his baby, he is sort of confused. And when someone explained the news to this wonderful goofball, his eyes literally lit up in excitement.

“Ahh? A little fish? I made a little fish?” .... I mean.... He’s not wrong.

In preparation for his little one’s arrival, he would rely on his brother for tips and resources. Don’t get me wrong, Floyd really tries his best to prepare for his little one as he wants to be able to welcome his little one without any problems, it’s just that he doesn’t know how. So, he usually brings Jade along with him as they go buy some baby products together.

Bless this lovely goofball for trying his best.

When the baby actually arrives, he feels a sense of pride as he knows that he managed to bring such a lovely and adorable little one to the world. A wide smile stuck itself on his face as he takes a good look and holds his little fish. He couldn’t BELIEVE that he was holding something so tiny and fragile. He was so shocked by the beauty of his little fish, he didn’t notice tears flowing out from his eyes. At that moment, he swore to love, cherish and protect his little fish and never let anything bad happen to them.

However, he’s never really taken good care of kids before, so, he is actually kind of scared. He’s afraid that he’ll accidentally hurt his little one so he is EXTRA cautious with his actions whenever he’s handling his little fish. He literally does everything with extra care. For example, if he is feeding his young one, one can find him feeding his little one inside a pillow fort and on top of a big and fluffy pillow.

Bless this goofball for trying his best x2.

But, as the weeks go by, he would get used to taking care of his little fish. Those fears he had slowly vanished and he’s more comfortable with his little one and he goes back to his carefree self. So, expect some crazy stuff happening when he has fun-time with his little fish.

f-floYD, PUT THE CHILD DOWN!! DON’T FLING THE CHILD INTO THE AIR!!!

Floyd actually loves hearing his little fish laugh. He would do anything for that cute little giggle or squeal to bless his ears. Funny faces and tickling are his go-to actions to get his little one to smile and laugh in happiness. And when he hears that adorable giggle or laughter, he naturally smiles in response and continues his actions to make more giggles and laughter appear.

Hey, just because Floyd is carefree, that doesn’t mean he won’t discipline his little fish. Sure, his little one can have fun and be happy, but they have to be wary of actions which are okay and not okay. Floyd knows when and where to draw the line.

If his little fish is tired for the day or absolutely worn out, Floyd would carry his little one to bed and tuck them in. He smiles at his little one’s sleeping form before exciting the room.

Swimming lessons are also a MUST for his little fish. They are half merfolk after all, if they know how to walk, they must know how to swim. Floyd would actually take it upon himself to teach his little fish on the basics of swimming.

He.... At some point may or may not almost flung his little fish into the water whilst yelling: “Let the water guide you!”

Expect little dancing parties with Floyd and his little one. Whenever Floyd starts to dance, his little fish would end up trying to copy his moves. Floyd takes notice of this and starts to lead his little one to dance along with him. No matter the song and place, the father and child would always have the best time of their lives by dancing.

They also have another method of having absolute fun. Pranking. Literally. Floyd and his little fish would come up with all sorts of pranks to pull on either their families or Floyd’s friends at gatherings. Their pranks could go from just a small and harmless one to one that would flip the entire building upside down. Floyd and his little fish would be howling with laughter every time their pranks had succeeded. If they didn’t, then, good luck taking care of one moody Floyd and one moody child.

As his little fish grows up, Floyd would also send them to human kindergarten as well. Although Floyd would have wanted his little fish to go to merfolk kindergarten instead, he knows that his little fish would probably be uncomfortable there. So, he agrees to send them to human kindergarten. Well, as long as his little fish is happy, he is happy as well.

Floyd KNOWS when his little fish is having a bad day. Somehow, this goofball can sense whenever his little fish is feeling down. As soon as his little one comes home, Floyd is immediately hugging his little one and asking them what’s wrong.

If the problem was just because they were having a bad day in general. Remember all the fun activities I mentioned that Floyd would do to have fun? Yeah, everything happened. It was a day with fun filled to the brim.

However, if the problem was a person....

Looks like someone is getting squeezed soon.

For real, Floyd would have the face he has on his groovy SSR card as he accompanies his little fish to school the next day.

“So... Which one of you fishes made MY angelfish feel sad yesterday?”

May the lord have mercy on all the staff and other children of that kindergarten.

All in all, Floyd absolutely adores and loves his little angelfish for he has never seen anything as perfect as they are. He makes sure that his precious angelfish gets all the joy and fun in the world and knows that he loves them oh so much. His angelfish knows that they’re loved by their wonderful dad and loves him as much as he loves them. Floyd knows it and he is happy to know it.

Bless this goofball of a dad x3

~Little Bonus!~

With the benefit of being twins, both Jade and Floyd would trick their kids sometimes.

Usually, when they get together for play dates, their kids would be extra cautious on who was their father as Jade and Floyd would not even be separated.

“Oya? You thought I was your father? My dear one, your father is over there.” Jade said to Floyd’s child.

“Ehhhh? Me? Jade? No little angelfish, Jade’s over there~” Floyd said to Jade’s child.

Sometimes, they would deny being themselves! Like, Jade would deny being Jade and Floyd would deny being Floyd.

They would literally say the exact same things that I’ve listed above to their own kids.

This confused the kids SO MUCH.

I think both kids ended up crying one time.

Feel free to smack the duo for traumatizing their little ones though :)

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland headcanon #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst #twst headcanons #floyd leech #jade leech #twst floyd #twst jade #father!Jade #father!Floyd #twst imagines #octavinelle

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serenityseventeen · 3 years

Text

Love & Letter: To The Thirteen Boys I've Loved Before

The Tenth Letter

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

To: Lee Seokmin

From: Y/N

Hi, Seokmin.

I have so many things I want to ask you but for this letter to you, I want to start at the beginning. The beginning of us. To me, you've been only sweet and caring and I couldn't have asked for more. I still respect your decision and I hope you won't regret choosing your dream over me.

I'm sure the public will love your voice just as much as I do. I still have the videos and mp3 files of your covers because your voice is just so utterly beautiful that I can't delete it, even though we broke up. Since I can't support you, an unborn artist, as your girlfriend, I'll support you as a fan.

When we first met, I was truly amazed by your vocals. I'm sure you noticed me staring because you looked at me and smiled at me while singing. At first, I was wondering why you were looking at me when there was everyone else in the crowd; and I later got the answer to that after.

I already told you this but yeah, because of you, I was late for my job interview. It was just for a part-time job and even though I needed a night job, I couldn't help but stop and listen to you sing.

At that time, I was having a stressful time. I had broken up with my boyfriend a few months ago and I wasn't fully over that yet. My dad was hospitalized for Cancer and I felt like I had no one to lean on.

Even though I was having a hard time then, I couldn't cry. I always thought that maybe it was because the hardships made me grow stronger. I thought that maybe I've cried too much in my life and now I just couldn't cry.

But when I heard your voice, my heart was aching, wrenching, and I just couldn't stop listening to it. I've always loved music but for some reason, your voice became a better medicine to me.

You were looking at me in that crowd when we first met because I had a tear rolling down my cheek. With fairy lights on the wall lighting up the corner of the store where you busked, I was crying because of the emotion and beauty in your voice.

At that time, after you performed, you asked me why I was crying. I lied and said it was because your performance was beautiful. This was the true reason behind it that I never got to tell you.

I still remember your pure eyes and sunshine-like smile. It was so bright. Your smile felt like a ray of sunshine slipping into my life that was a dark hole, offering me a hand.

Since I needed that hand, I accepted it. I reached for it and took it. That's how I would describe how we got together. You helped me smile with your pure, funny, and warm personality, and because of that smile, I could love you to the fullest.

You made me realize that sometimes, people need other people to help them cope with their problems. This realization caused me a bit of regret but I'm grateful that loving you could teach me this valuable lesson.

Seokmin, you were such a sweet and warm boyfriend.

For dates, whenever we did have time, you would bring me to the most memorable places. We would spend the day together having fun. Each place you picked left a memorable trace.

You were patient with me and didn't ask for much from me, which made me want to love you without any regrets. Sometimes it would be up to a week and a half before we saw each other again but each time you saw me, there was an even brighter smile on your face.

Our first kiss was at the beach and you took me there to help me refresh my mind. You were always thinking about me. When you took me to see the ocean, I felt it then, that I had to love you wholeheartedly.

That's why while we were sitting on the rocks, I brought your face to mine and kissed you. You must've been shocked at first but then you brought your hand to my jaw, massaging it gently, and began kissing me back sweetly. My heart was racing and that's when I was sure that I fell for you.

We celebrated Halloween together, dressing up as a ghost couple and I still remember the amount of fun I had painting your face with white. You were so playful and full of youth that I couldn't help but kiss you then too. My face got white paint over it because of you but I still enjoyed it.

Whenever you were busking, I would come to watch you and record you so proudly. Sometimes, I would be so sure that you were singing a specific song for me. It was like your way of saying “I love you”.

Even if you didn't tell me that you were busking, I would just happen to pass by and hear your beautiful voice. Once I heard your voice, I had to stop and find it.

With you, I was able to forget everything and have fun amidst my life crisis. You supported me with every choice I made. You gave me confidence and whenever I was on the verge of breaking down, you came to me.

I remember this one time where I was out just wandering in a park at night blankly because my father's condition worsened suddenly. I was ignoring your calls and I didn't have enough money, everything was falling apart.

I don't know how you found me that night but as I was wandering in the dark silence, I heard your beautiful voice call my name. When I turned around, you had already run close enough to pull me into your arms.

I burst into tears while buried in your chest with your hand reassuring me by patting the back of my head. You repeated softly, “It'll be okay, I'm here for you.”

In the winters, you would come and wait by my dorm early in the morning, knowing that I needed to work a morning shift. You gave me a beautiful red scarf and would always warm my cheeks up with heating pads.

I still remember the first time you came to my dorm unauthorized and waited for me in the cold. Your cheeks and the tip of your nose were cold and pink but once you saw me, a bright smile lit up your face.

You came to me with a beautiful smile and reached out your cold hands to my cheek.

“You shouldn't be dressed so poorly for this weather,” You took out the red knitted scarf from a bag and wrapped it around my shoulders, then with a hot pack in each hand, you cupped my cheeks.

I was surprised, that's why I couldn't say anything back then.

You then gently bumped your forehead against mine and smiled purely. “Have a good day at work, call me when you finish, okay?” You said, smiling softly.

I just nodded and didn't thank you until you started leaving. You turned around and smiled at me again, making me melt. Then, you waved at me and continued walking away.

Now I know why you did such a thing for me.

I was so happy to know that someone was caring for me. It made me delighted to know that that person was you, the man that I loved. With your blissful, blessing voice, I just fell more and more in love.

I just remember thinking, ‘this is it,’ and that you and I would have our happy ending.

I'm not disappointed that we didn't get the happy ending that I wanted but even though we didn't, life has more opportunities for both of us. Maybe a happy ending wouldn't come just yet because, from the looks of it, our journeys are just unfolding.

Since you were there for me and supported me in everything I did, when you came to me and asked if you should join an entertainment company, I wanted to support you too. You made me happy so if your dream was happiness, then I supported it.

“Y/N, should I join an entertainment agency?” I remember you asking me.

I didn't know how to reply then. I didn't want you to go but I then realized that I couldn't keep you here either.

“You can if you want to.”

“If I join one, I can't date you.”

“If it's your dream, then it's fine. Just remember me.”

You didn't reply for a bit.

“Are you sure it's okay? I love you and I don't want to leave you but...”

“If this is your only chance, take it.”

I smiled at you.

Seokmin, I'm glad that you were able to join the entertainment agency that you auditioned for.

I thought that when we broke up I would cry but I didn't. I was happy. I was happy for you and reminiscing everything that made me happy was enough. Being with you left enough memories for me to stay happy for a while.

Whenever I miss you during these lonely snowy nights, I listen to and watch your covers. It's almost hard to believe that I loved someone like you for a short while. Seeing you again in my gallery seemed like you were an angel who came to heal me.

I'm sincerely grateful to you, Seokmin. I love you too, Seokmin. I miss you too, Seokmin.

Are you eating well? Make sure you take care of your voice. Are you happy yet? Have you made any friends?

I hope that you'll reach your dream soon.

I'm sure that training is hard but I'll wait for the day I can hear your voice live again; not from the videos on my phone, but a local TV station, or someone else's phone. I'll wait for that day.

For now, I'll stay your biggest fan.

I'll still love you. My love for you will never change, even if I meet someone else. I'll love you as a fan.

All I can do now isn't much, and though you probably don't know, I'm cheering for you. I still am. I'm your biggest supporter.

I won't try to fall out of love with you.

I'm sure I'll recognize you on the day your dream comes true.

Yours truly,

Y/N

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

7/4/21 - 3:59 pm

a/n: Happy July 4th. My family originally had plans today but apparently, we haven't done anything according to our plan? Whatever, I'm excited to see fireworks. + Perfect timing, our Kyeom has Instagram now and gosh can he stop being so cute!?

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didsomeonesaydaddydraco · 3 years

Text

What true love feels like - part 4 | Tom Felton imagine

Part 4 is here! It’s the penultimate part, yaaaay! :( It’s a little more emotional than the chapters before, but I hope you still like it. I cried a little writing it (but I blame it on the wine!). Again, parts written in italic are flashbacks. Let me know what you think.

Word count: 3036

Pairing: Tom Felton x Reader

Tag list: @abrunettefangirlnerd ; @youknowiloveyou-so; @the-girl-who-drew; @thescaletknight2014; @lil5sosbetch; @pipppaaaaalouisee; @mysticskeletonfireherring Thank you guys so much for your support!

You can find the previous chapters right here:

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

*Y/N’s POV* - two weeks later

We fall in love with three people in our lifetime. Each one has a very specific reason.

The first love often happens at a young age. You eventually grow apart or call it quits over silly things. When you get older you may look back and think it wasn’t love. But the truth is, it was. It was love for what you knew love to be.

The second love it that hard one. The hard love. You get hurt in this one. This love teaches us lessons and makes us stronger. This love includes great pan, lies, betrayal, abuse, drama and damage. But this is the one where we grow. We realise what we love about love and what we don’t love about love. We learn the difference between good and bad humans. We become closed, careful, cautious and considerate. We learn what exactly we want or do not want.

And the third love it the one that comes blindly. No warning. It creeps on us silently. We don’t go looking for this love. It comes at us. We can put up any wall we want, it will be broken down. We’ll find ourselves caring about that person without trying. They look nothing like our usual crush types, but we get lost in their eyes daily. We see beauty in their imperfections. We hide nothing from them. We want marriage and family with them. We thank the universe for them, we truly love them.

Two weeks have passed ever since I left my fiancé at the altar without any explanation. It have been two weeks since my father called my brother to come and rescue me from making a huge mistake. Two weeks, and I still couldn’t get my shit together to get out of the small house by the lake and face the consequences of my actions. I was a coward, it was no secret. During these days, I had only talked to my Mom and Dad, and once with my sister who wanted to know is I had enough vodka with me.

And I talked to Aaron once. We talked for long hours on the phone, or we just held our mobiles to our ears and said nothing at all. He asked me all those questions. Questions, which I couldn’t or didn’t want to answer. How was I supposed to, when my only answer was that I was in love with another man?! Before he had to go, he asked me one thing: to write down everything that comes to my mind when I think of love. And when I’m done, I’ll know the answer for all of my questions and his as well.

Tom. There wasn’t a day when I didn’t think of him. He tried to reach me so many times. He called, he texted and he even showed up one time. He knew where he had to look for me. He was the only one apart from my Dad and brother, who knew my secret getaway place. He sat in his car in front of the lake house and I watched him from the living room’s window, hidden by the curtains. He knew I was watching him. And it was enough for him. He made sure I was okay, and knew he had to give me time and space to calm down and think everything through. He knew me too well.

I would lie if I said I didn’t miss Aaron at all. That’s not true. I missed him. And for the first couple of days, it scared me. I was scared because I thought I made a mistake by leaving him there. But I had a very long conversation with my Dad about it, and I realized one thing. It is okay to miss someone, miss someone who is not right for me, but once gave me what I needed. Maybe I was the words that touched me where I thought nobody understood me. Maybe it was the touch that I cherished that way, the arm around me, and the emptiness that was filled up. Someone I could talk to, someone who listened. Maybe he didn’t understand me, maybe the void wasn’t filled in the right way, and maybe the beautiful moments were not enough to make the dark sides forget. But at that moment, what I needed was what filled my void, right or wrong. I loved him because of his beautiful sides, the beautiful memories that I we have built. And it’s okay to acknowledge that it might have been nothing more than a consolation, a dream, a memory, a relationship that did not meet my expectations, a relationship in which you did not match, a good hope, with a painful outcome. It is okay when expectations, dreams, and hope lead to disappointment. It’s painful, difficult and sad, but it is okay. It is okay, because that meant that I have tried it, that I have learned from it. I had to get up again, take my experience with me, look at myself and focus on myself, my new encounter, a promising future that lies ahead.

“So, for how long do you want to still hide in the lake house?” my brother came out of the kitchen with two glasses of juice in his hands “Y/N, it’s been two weeks. I think it’s time to face the real world again”

I took one of the glasses from him and drank it in one take. It was a nice change from vodka. It’s been like that for the last couple of days. When we arrived, all I wanted was to disappear from the surface. I literally hid in the bedroom, and only left the bed to grab something to eat or take a very quick shower. When I was ready to face myself again, the only thing that made my whole situation bearable was the power of alcohol. It helped me to forget about everything and everyone.

“How do you know when a man is right for you?” I looked at him hopelessly. My brother was good at giving advice. And I loved to go to him for it because he never used anything cliché, but tried to help based on his own experiences.

I sat down on the sofa and waited for him to join me. He followed me, and placed himself down with a sigh. I was more than grateful for him. He came to check on me every other day, made sure I had everything I needed and I was okay. He was a great man, and I had no idea how I was going to give all this back to him.

“Honestly, you will just know” he took a sip from his pineapple juice “You’ll be able to tell by his mannerism. The way he looks at you. The way he talks to you, the way he pays attention to every single word you say, it’ll be in his laughter, his attention to detail” he took my hand in his and give it a reassuring small squeeze “The atmosphere when he is around you, a man who makes you a better woman, a better sister, a better daughter and the perfect future mother and wife”

“Huh, wife” I snorted at the grotesque of the situation “I was supposed to be one by now, you know”

“Let’s forget that for now” he shook his head “You will realise a man is right for you when he makes you stronger emotionally, physically and mentally. He will empower you, he will bring you closer to your goals, and he will make you feel better about yourself. You will learn to love yourself, he will become your teacher, your friend and your soulmate. You will begin to realise that he will learn to love you, just so you love yourself. You will know he is right for you, the moment he walks through the door and your heart finally rests with peace.”

“Well, it looks like Aaron wasn’t the right for me than” I looked at the empty glass in my hand. Damian was right. I needed someone who brought me peace.

“He was, at one time in your life” he smiled at me gently “But you grew so much in that relationship, and deep inside you knew from the start, he wasn’t going to stay in your life forever.”

“You’re not mad at me?” I looked back at him “I feel like everyone who was at the wedding hates me now. I betrayed Aaron and his family. I even betrayed my own family.”

“Nobody hates you, Y/N” he laughed “They found the whole situation bloody entertaining if you ask me. Most of them someone predicted your move. When you showed up at the entrance with Dad by your side, it was obvious something was wrong”

“Thanks” I let a tear slip. It was the first time in the last two weeks when I let myself cry. I tried everything to stay strong and pulled together and to keep my head as clean as I could so I had the chance to think and make the right decision this time “For everything. You have no idea how grateful I am to you for showing up and literally saving me that day”

“You’re my sister, and your happiness is the most important thing for me” he kissed my forehead and stood up from the sofa “I’d like to stay, but I have to go to work tomorrow and I still need to finish the last bits of my presentation. Will you be fine?”

“Yeah, sure” I nodded and followed him to the main door. I walked him out, and watched as he drove off. It was getting dark, and the weather was a little bit chilly even though it was almost June. I stayed outside for a bit and enjoyed the calm weather. I needed it. Going back to the house, I found my Dad’s letter on the kitchen counter. I read it so many times, I could almost say it back without a mistake.

“To my sweet Daughter,

I don’t know who that man is who stole your heart, but if you ever begin to wonder if he is the one, ask yourself:

Does his laughter warm your body from the inside out? He knows that when you saw two scoops you really mean three, right? DO you dance in his living room while drinking cheap wine? I hope so, and I hope you’re both drunk and terrible and laughing to hard you cry. Does he tell you how beautiful you are, and if yes, does he say it when the morning light falls upon your face? More importantly, when he tells you, do you believe him? Can you cry in front of him? I hope you can, that means you trust him. When it’s pouring rain does he know that if your hair is curled or your eyes are sad that means he should get the car and get it to you? When he asks what you want for dinner and you say you aren’t hungry, does he ask if you’ve eaten today. And when you say you had breakfast, I hope he knows you don’t eat breakfast, and makes you a bowl of pasta, because that’s your favourite comfort food. Does he kiss you good morning? Good night? Just because? Do you know he like his coffee black? Unless he wants it cooled, then he will probably want some milk in it, but not too much. Do you know when he prefers tea over coffee? I never quite figured that out with your Mother. Have you figured out if he is ticklish? Don’t let him convince you he’s not, I promise you he is. Have you frustrated the hell out of him yet? You will, oh you will, but it’s how you two come out of it that matters. And when he said he loved you for the first time, did you respond by asking if he’s afraid of heights? I hope with my entire soul that he said yes, because that means, despite his fear of heights, he still fell for you. Now, sweet girl, you tell me, is he the one?

Love, Daddy”

I put back down his letter, only to find my shaky handwritten papers next to it. I tried to absolve Aaron’s task, but it was almost impossible. I really thought I wasn’t able to give a normal answer to his questions, but when one night I drank almost a whole bottle of vodka by myself, the words just appeared on the paper in front of me without me noticing. I wrote without thinking. I used my heart, and the outcome wasn’t quite surprising. I knew Aaron was ready to give me a second chance. He said it himself. He was ready to sit down, talk as much as we needed and even go to couple’s therapy to fix everything that went wrong in our relationship, but I knew better. There wasn’t enough conversations, there wasn’t a couple therapist out there who could make me fall in love with him again. Not, if I wasn’t in love with him in the first place. I loved him. I truly did, but not in the way which was enough for me to be his wife and spend the rest of my life with him. Aaron wanted me to choose.

“Oh fuck this” I said and grabbed my keys and bag from the counter. It was now or never. I wasted enough time, I didn’t want to waste any more. I hopped in my car and drove off from the driveway.

“What is love?” Tom asked me while I laid on his chest, listening to the beautiful of melody of his heartbeat and the rain on his window sill. It was one of those days, when I didn’t have to rush home after dinner. We could cuddle and talk for hours. Enjoying each other company. Kissing each other with love and passion. Playing with each other’s hands while we talked about everything and anything. I cherished these moments.

“When I was little, I thought love was about red roses and expensive dinners. Truth is, love is giving the other half your fries when they said they weren’t hungry. It’s waking up at 4 am to them snoring and refraining from shoving them off the bed. It’s talking about in accents just for shits, and trying to embarrass one another in public. It’s going on adventures, and making fun of each other. Its stupid fights and memorable make ups. Love isn’t pretty and romantic. Love is just stumbling through life with your best friend.” I brought his hand up to my lips and kissed his palm.

“I’d love nothing more than to stumble through life with you” he said silently. It was better than a simple I love you. It was better than any kind of huge and overpriced gesture to show his love. With this statement, he put my heart in peace. I knew it was wrong, but I fell for him. And I did it hard.”

I parked my car on the other side of the road. I need a moment to pull myself together. I looked at the huge house which was way too familiar to me. I couldn’t tell how many times I had been there before. He was home. The lights were up in his study, he was probably working on his next big project, or he was sitting by the vintage reading lamp, flipping through a book, writing down quotes he could identify with. With a deep breath, I got out of my car and walked to his front door and rang the bell. I heard his footsteps and he rushed down the stairs. I was out of breath when he opened the door. He was there, standing right in front of me. I could smell his amazing scent. Spicy aromatic. Bergamot, lime, neroli and apple. There was a slight hint of patchouli, rose and teak wood, along with vanilla, musk and labdanum. He smelt like home.

“Y/N?” his voice was a little bit raspy, probably from singing in the shower of while he made dinner for himself “What are you doing here?”

“I had to write down everything that came into my mind when I thought about love” I pulled out the wrinkled paper from hip-pocket “For first, I couldn’t. But then I drank a whole bottle of vodka, and everything was written down without me thinking about it.”

I could tell he was confused. He didn’t know why I wasn’t giving him a straight answer. Truth it, I didn’t know where to start everything. I wanted to say so many things. I thought I figured out my whole speech on my way to his house, but the truth is, the moment I saw his beautiful eyes, I forgot everything. You see, there comes a time when you meet someone and all the things you wanted in a lover just start to disappear. You wanted creamy brown eyes, and then all of a sudden his bright blue eyes become your favourite. You wanted someone who plays sports but the way he plays the piano or the guitar just softens your heart. You wanted someone who can use beautiful words to make you feel better but he doesn’t speak when you’re down crying, he just sits right there and holds you with no intention of letting go. You wanted a lover who tells you you’re the real art when you are at museums but then you meet someone who doesn’t look at the stars in the night but he just stares at your eyes. And you meet someone who makes you laugh. And suddenly he is like you wanted him to be. He makes you happy. That is all, happiness.

“Aaron asked be to choose” I said finally. I was chewing on my bottom lip. I felt like I was going to faint right in front of him.

“And who did you choose?” he asked me calmly.

“Well, I’m standing right in front of you”

Part 5?

#Tom Felton #tom felton fanfic #imagine tom felton #tom felton imagine #tom felton one shot #tom felton mini series #Draco Malfoy #daddy draco #draco fanfiction #draco x reader #draco imagine #tom x reader #tom felton x reader #tom felton x you #tom felton x y/n #harry potter imagines #harry potter cast imagines #tom felton love story

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siennahrobek · 3 years

Text

Future Past

19 BBY

Obi-Wan’s farewell to everyone he had left was rather numb.

He felt numb, even though he knew everything was breaking inside. It was all just movements and motions, barely thought provoking as he strode through the facilities of Polis Massa and later, Bail Organa’s ship. He felt like he was choking on air and nothing at all, breathing was difficult.

He only had a few minutes with Leia, and he had a feeling that he may never see her again. He almost wished he wouldn’t. He would love to, of course, because he loved her so much, but if he did, that probably meant she was in grave danger. He would go the rest of his entire life without seeing or talking with her again in exchange for her being safe and happy. That’s all he wanted.

That was all he had ever wanted for those he loved.

He wondered if he would ever stop failing.

Luke was set within a hospital cradle bed while Obi-Wan said his goodbyes to the tiny girl, the little shining light that should have been his family. Bail had assured she always would be, even if she never got to meet him again. Obi-Wan would be forever grateful that he had a friend in someone like Bail Organa.

Cradling Leia in his arms, she had paused from her constant wail and screeching, rather attempting to reach up and grab his beard. She had gotten a fistful but had not pulled too hard and he let her. Perhaps it was the start of a bad habit, Obi-Wan didn’t know, but he figured this would be the last time with him. Her hair was already a little mop upon her head, dried off with a soft towel. The color reminded him of Padme, especially when she had been younger. When Obi-Wan had met her during her teenage years and reign as Naboo Queen.

Rocking the child gently, he wrapped her up within part of his cloak, although a bit tattered and dirty. She didn’t seem to mind, one hand grasping his beard. She had taken his pointer finger with the other, tightening as much as her little grip would allow her.

He nearly tried to tug it away, but Leia’s face just scrunched up in determination as she held even tighter. Obi-Wan just found a chair to sit in. Perhaps this goodbye would be slightly longer. It was okay.

“I didn’t think babies much look like anyone in particular but you seem to look so much like your father. I know everyone would say your mother,” he started quietly. “But I know, I think. Perhaps I didn’t spend enough time with babies; I wish I did. Now…now they are all gone,” he whispered, lowering his head closer to hers. “Just you and Luke are the only younglings left. I am so sorry that you don’t have anyone else. But Bail will give you a good life, he will always do his best. That you can count on.”

Leia just gargled, blowing out little raspberries in his face. Obi-Wan just chuckled. “Anakin would have loved you so much. So would Padme. Once upon a time, you had wonderful parents, my dearest.”

One of her hands left his beard and traveled up to his cheek, patting it gently.

Something shifted on the ship and Obi-Wan could feel presences coming forward quickly. “I must leave you soon, darling,” he murmured and kissed her forehead. She didn’t have much strength in her tiny hands but what little she did, she tried to bring him closer. “This is my farewell to you; I know you will change the galaxy; it has always been your destiny. How you will do it is completely up to you. You will be beautiful and stronger than anyone else, don’t let a single person tell you otherwise.”

Leia just stared at him, her dark eyes wide and curious. Her fingers moved and curled around his singular pointer finger.

“May the Force be with you, dear Leia, always,” he whispered, projecting the one feeling he knew he wanted her to feel for the rest of her life. If she was to associate his presence with anything, he wanted her to feel this, know what he felt for her.

Complete, unadulterated and untainted love.

***

Leaving Polis Massa was harder than Obi-Wan had expected. Yoda left with little fanfare, a few words of wisdom and the notification about his old master’s presence, with more lessons to be taught. Obi-Wan had always been for learning, he was a seeker, not a saint. He loved to learn and to teach, to see and explore and study.

But for some reason, this felt more like an obligation.

He wondered what it would be like, feeling his presence and hearing his voice again. Qui-Gon Jinn’s. Obi-Wan had thought about him often but tried his very best to keep those memories happy and bright. To remember him in the best light he could.

The goodbye to Bail was a bit bitter, as he was taking away one of Obi-Wan’s loved ones, but he trusted Bail to treat her well. He didn’t think he could trust anyone else more with her. He seemed to understand, at least to some extent, and consistently reassured him of that his love and care for her.

They set up a contact system for the two, just in case. Obi-Wan hoped with all of his heart that it would never be the case. “If anything happens, contact me, Master Jedi,” Bail Organa insisted even going as forth to squeeze his shoulder as for reassurance.

“I will,” Obi-Wan promised, quietly. “Hopefully, that will not be necessary.”

Bail glanced at him, sympathetically and pressed a case in his hand. “There is some currency in there. It was a rush job, getting wuipipi and the transition isn’t exactly great, but it was what I could get on such short notice. If I can, I can try to send you more later.”

“Don’t worry about it, Bail,” Obi-Wan shook his head, keeping his voice quiet. A makeshift slung was created and looped around his neck and shoulders, baby Luke snuggled up closely to his chest. He shifted from foot to foot, hoping to keep the child asleep for at least a while longer. “We shouldn’t attract any more attention to ourselves than necessary. I will make do.”

“You always seem to have a way of surviving, Obi-Wan,” Bail nodded. “But if you need anything, just, try and let me know. I will always help you.”

“Thank you,” he dipped his head. “I should leave before anyone tracks us here. It has been quite some time.”

“May the Force be with you, Master Jedi,” Bail took a step back and bowed lightly.

Obi-Wan nodded, unable to risk such a gesture with Luke to his chest. “And with you, Senator. Be safe.”

He took a few more steps back. Obi-Wan turned and walked to his ship, or, rather, General Grievous’ old ship. He would get to a planet to sell it so he could receive passage to Tatooine. It would be quite the undertaking his imagined.

Bail had watched him leave, even after he had left the station, Luke and a few other supplies tucked away.

The next couple of weeks were spent selling the little ship and finding passage to the planet he needed. He had to work extra hard to find a buyer that would give him a fair amount, away from the new Imperials. His heart cracked a little more every time he saw the blank faces of the clone troopers, now in shifting armor. It was changing. Everything was changing.

He accepted them as family. The jedi had accepted them as family. They had tried so hard. Perhaps it wasn’t enough, but they had tried. Obi-Wan could eventually understand them wanting to shoot down generals, him especially, for how many had he brought to war? How many had he sent to their deaths with his plans in war. How many were sacrificed in the name of the greater good. He could understand their seething hatred for him. He was the one who had done that.

He had been the one who led them.

He could accept that.

He would have gratefully and happily given his life in exchange.

If that was what they had demanded.

But they had marched on the Temple. There were few warriors in the sacred place. In their home. There was the elderly, who had spent a lifetime helping people, who had no part in the war and never had. There was the injured and sick, helpless to fight back. There was no reason to murder them. There was…there was the children, the younglings, the babies.

He couldn’t imagine the clone troopers they had trusted so much to have gone to their home and massacred all of their children. Their babies: those who didn’t do anything wrong, nothing to them. Who didn’t know better.

The youngest baby at the Temple had been three months old.

She had been even smaller than Luke in his arms.

He had seen her, or, at least, what was left of her.

The thought of it nearly made him throw up and his throat gagged at the thought. Tears swelled up in his eyes and suddenly, they were streaming down his cheeks, steadily.

He tried to stop, he wanted to stop. There were other people on the ship, being smuggled across the galaxy. It wasn’t there were many; as there wasn’t, but there was enough to notice. He choked back a sob, trying to stay as quiet as he could.

He could feel their stares.

A warm hand barely brushed up against his cheek. Trying to will the tears away, he blinked several times and glanced down. Luke was awake, bright blue eyes staring up at him, wide and curious. He murmured something unintelligible and reached up again. Obi-Wan lowered his head down to grant Luke better access. The baby just giggled and waved his hand over the older man’s face, apparently liking the texture.

After so many hyperspace trips of crying and wailing from the cold, it was nice to have a moment of quiet.

“Isn’t that a rather darling boy,” an older Mirilan woman cooed, leaning over to glance at the bundle against Obi-Wan’s chest. “You and the missus must be very happy and proud.”

“He’s not mine actually,” the words tumbled out of Obi-Wan’s mouth before his mind could catch up. “He’s my brother’s, but he and his wife are…they can’t take care of him anymore. We are going to a planet with more family.”

“I am so sorry,” the woman said, sympathetically. It laced her voice into something that made his heart crack. He hadn’t felt that from someone else in quite some time.

The woman was pleasant and even helpful for the rest of this leg of the trip, even snapping at other passengers when Luke’s wailing got too loud, in their defense. She scooted closer sometimes, her presence bringing some comfort to the baby; perhaps because she was a female. Obi-Wan knew that babies tended to bond with females closer due to the nature of their relationships.

When they parted ways, she gave him a little knitted hat for Luke…and then even one for Obi-Wan. He hadn’t even seen her make it, but he took them gratefully. They had fit perfectly.

The weeks were long and difficult, hopping from one smugglers ship to another, doing his very best to avoid the imperials but, eventually, he got himself to Tatooine. There was some investigating he had to do, in search of Anakin’s family. He had known that his mother had been freed not terribly long after Anakin had left; a reason why when Padme sent one of her handmaidens to free her, she hadn’t been able to be found.

Ben had picked up a few things from Quinlan, as his old friend was into more investigative and shadow work. He had even done a few of them with him. Ben wondered if the Kiffar was even still alive. Everyone else he loved was dead.

Although Shmi had passed away a few years ago and not terribly long after, her husband, Cliegg, her stepson and daughter-in-law still held up their moisture farm out in the deserts. Ben had eventually learned this, but it had taken some time. He found refuge wherever he could but unfortunately, most places to stay temporarily were around, above or connected to bars. And there were a lot of bars around the planet, especially in the city.

He supposed they had to do something to pick themselves up on such a wretched planet.

It had only been a couple of days since he and Luke had finally arrived at the planet of his family’s origins. Or at least, what was left of his family. It was the cheapest place, but it wasn’t a beautiful hotel either and it was, of course, above a bar. Luke didn’t seem to mind the noise, even trying to clap with some of the music sometimes and the heat didn’t seem to bother him. It was the cold that he really hated.

Ben had been scouting the bar, Luke strapped to his chest, playing with a little toy he had made during their travels. He loved that thing, for reasons Ben couldn’t quite understand.

He wasn’t sure how it had started or who started it or why but of course, with his luck, he ended up in a bar fight.

A bar fight.

With baby Luke strapped tightly to his chest.

Although he certainly disliked being the warrior that he was, Ben was grateful for his education, capacity and competence in the martial and combatant arts. The bar had ended up in an uproar and Ben had restrained himself from pulling out his lightsaber. For the moment he did, he would reveal himself as a Jedi. The destruction of the Order was too new, the bounty on Jedi head too high, for him to make that risk just yet.

The Empire may not have gotten to Tatooine yet, but it was only a matter of time.

Ben had been extremely careful when fighting off brawlers. None of them could particularly fight well so taking them down or avoiding their blows was probably the easiest thing Ben had done in years.

He had nearly been the last one standing. Any others had fled.

Apologizing to the bar keep, he tried to get away, but the Rhodian just laughed, loud and hearty. Ben didn’t quite understand but he wasn’t one to look a gift Tooka in the mouth.

Eventually, he had gotten enough information to buy a steady eopie and start his travels to the Lars homestead.

His heart ached. He knew he was dreading the hours to come.

And honestly, he nearly turned back.

He didn’t know these people. He had never even met these people before. He wasn’t even sure if Anakin had met these people before. To put Luke in their hands may…may have been safer from the Empire, but would it be safer with them? Were they good people? Would they teach Luke well or would they teach him to be resentful and have hate in his heart?

It had taken hours to get to the homestead, even on the strength of the eopie, but Ben had just mulled over this continuously. His heart was breaking, and his chest felt like it was going to be ripped open. Luke was fairly quiet, only babbling softly once in a while and trying to grab at anything near Ben that he could, generally his hair or his beard.

It was sunset when he had finally saw the homestead.

And he nearly turned back.

Giving Luke away was amongst the hardest things Ben had ever done and all he could give him was projecting the strongest feeling he had for the boy and once in a while, throughout the years, small little hand carved wooden ship toys, that he would leave on his grandmother’s grave.

***

The Lars couple, Owen and Beru, were good people. Even Ben could feel that.

Owen just hated him.

He wasn’t exactly subtle in his feelings either. No matter what Ben tried to do over the years, to help, to protect, anything, Owen lashed out at him, blaming him for the death of his stepbrother.

Stepbrother, Ben thought. How could a man be so angry and hate him so much on the behalf of someone he didn’t even know. Ben had spent over thirteen years with Anakin, training and raising and loving him. If Owen had met Anakin, it must have been very brief, and probably only once.

Ben tried not to be resentful.

He found an abandoned little hut cave out in the Judland Wastes, far enough for Owen’s liking but close enough that he could keep a feel for any dangerous the Lars may face over the years. It wasn’t much, but it was something. He didn’t mind. He never needed much anyways.

He had always wanted a peaceful place out of the way to spend his time meditating.

It took Ben quite a bit of time to open up to hearing Qui-Gon’s voice.

It took even longer for Ben to accept his tutelage.

But, like everything else Qui-Gon had ever asked of him, he did so.

18 BBY

It had taken Ben bare a few months to start protecting the Lars and surrounding areas and farms from Tusken Raiders and Jabba’s men. The Tuskens, although ritually and historically furious at the offworlders (even though technically many of them were born on the planet now) taking over their planet and taking their water, had been easier to work with. Once he had figured out some of their language, it was easier to communicate. He always had a knack for languages, he knew. Not only did he learn to be fascinated with them and cultures in general, but when working with and travelling with someone like Qui-Gon Jinn, one had to learn to apologize and ask not to be killed in nearly every foreign language of every planet they had been on.

Because if there was one thing that Qui-Gon Jinn very often did, it was making trouble.

It was exhausting but in the end, Ben had learned a valuable skill and found an enjoyable hobby of learning new languages.

Learning the Tusken sign language wasn’t too difficult, but what had really gotten them to be more open to negotiating was simply a test of strength and prowess. Ben, as much as he was loathed to admit it, was a warrior in the end. And to that point, he could take down near anyone on the planet just with his experience, knowledge and training.

The Tuskens had learned that quickly and ended up leaving him alone.

But it didn’t protect Luke.

That would happen a few months later. One of the Tusken tribes had been having a terrible time with a krayt dragon, a native beast to the planet and one that was said to be even force-sensitive in some cultures. Ben didn’t know if it was true, but the Tuskens were losing people and had resorted to taking others from outside the tribe as sacrifices.

This, of course, had put Luke in grave danger. Whether it had been that year or any year in the future. The Tuskens at first, were skeptical, with his offer to become the next sacrifice, but in the end, his manipulation worked.

The Krayt dragon was a bit bigger than Ben had heard from the stories, but its ferocity was no small thing. But, in the end, Ben had always had a small talent for bonding with beasts of all kinds and in the end, the krayt dragon was no different.

He had sent her on her way with the quiet request to leave them alone.

He wouldn’t reveal what had happened between the two of them, or how the communication went, but he came back in one peace, telling the Tuskens that the dragon would leave them alone, but they had to leave the locals alone as well, for if they didn’t, they would be responsible for their actions. This in turn, protected most of the people around the Lars homestead, including Luke and any friends he may have in the future.

Sometimes, when Ben meditated out in the middle of nowhere, he could feel the rumbling of the dragon under the shifting sands.

14 BBY

Once upon a time, all Ben wanted was to sit in a quiet cave and meditate.

Now, five years later, he just wished he could be back. Even if it was the war, as horrible as that time was, the Jedi would still be around, he could still feelthem and he would have the loyalty and care of his troops, even if it did end up being fake.

Tatooine, at least with its terrain, wasn’t the worst Ben had ever encountered. Yes, the sand got everywhere but it never seemed quite as course and rough and irritating as Anakin had made it out to be. The storms were terrible, don’t get Ben wrong, and he disliked them quite passionately. Sand stung at his eyes, whipping at his skin mercilessly. It was a pain.

But lying in the sand when there was little wind, just a gentle breeze, not enough to stir the land, he could feel some peace. Sinking into the soft grains and able to let everything else melt away.

He just wished it could have been sand in the Jedi Temple, surrounded by loved ones and the light of the Force.

11 BBY

He was too late.

He was always too late.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he was even surprised anymore.

Because it seemed, in the end, he would always to be too late. He would always be not quite fast enough, not quite smart enough, simply not quite enough. Never quite enough.

It wasn’t exactly the Force that gave him the warning, but it did give him awarning.

Let’s just put it to rest that he now believed the krayt dragons were force sensitive.

Plenty.

Ben’s eopie was old now but she did her very best to get to the Lars homestead as quickly as she could. She gave it her all, that was for certain. Ben remembered him cursing himself for letting Owen force him to live further away, further from Luke, further from the homestead. If he had lived closer, perhaps things would have ended up differently.

The Empire had come to Tatooine barely the year before and Ben had done a fairly good job of keeping out of the way.

But somehow, for some reason, they suddenly had it out for the Lars family.

And whoever sent them, they sent clones.

Ben felt only sympathy for the soldiers as he cut them down in defense of Luke. Owen and Beru were already gone, sprawled over the floor, bleeding and glassy eyed. He had let go of his bitterness and anger quite some time before. It was no use. What was done was done. No one could change anything. And revenge, even being not the Jedi way, would do nothing for Ben. It wouldn’t bring the Jedi back. It wouldn’t bring the younglings and babies back.

There was no satisfaction when he fought them.

Although, honestly, it wasn’t much of a fight.

For the first time in years, as Ben bundled shocked Luke up in his cloak and robes, grabbing some of his things, worrying over the fact that more may come, he had ended up contacting Bail Organa.

Ben knew Luke didn’t remember much of that time and in all honesty, neither did Ben himself. It was like going through some slogging motions, but Bail had come on his word and sent him a nondescript space craft.

Ben had sold it and bought a different one. Just in case.

Everything had changed now, and he knew things were never going to be as simple as it had been on Tatooine. No matter where they went, no matter where they would go.

Luke was eight or nine, Ben had thought, musing to himself. Was it ironic, that it was around the age Ben had started teaching Anakin?

Was the outcome to be similar?

Or was Ben to lose yet another Skywalker?

He supposed, like nearly all things, only time would tell.

Present Past

Ben

His head is full.

Awakening was a cloggy mess and a sluggish, laborious process, like trudging through the impossible terrain of the Dagobah swamplands. His feet felt as if he had to relearn rudimentary functions and relearn them in a hurry. The Force pressed against him, light and warm and impatient. Taking the largest and longest inhale he was capable of, he forced himself to open his eyes and then sit up. Step one complete.

Rolling his shoulders and arms indistinctively, he noted they felt sore but lighter than usual, cleaned of sand and grime. The cracking of joints he had been so used to hearing every time he moved, especially after sleep, had ceased significantly.

Looking down, he caught sight of his hands, encased in lack gloves. He hadn’t worn gloves with fingers attached much anymore, he thought absentmindedly. He wondered where they had come from. Bringing them closer in his sight, he studied them further. These were standard issue GAR gloves. And attached to the standard issue GAR gloves was standard issue clone trooper vambraces. These had not worn these in years, certainly not by him. He still remembered the day he had to sell his armor pieces which included the vambraces. His finger trailed up one of his arms through a groove in the plastoid, up to the scratched and slightly faded paint in the middle. His breath caught as he lightly traced the open circle symbol.

Taking a deep breath to fill his lungs, he attempted to stand, keeping a firm grip on the cot and tried to steady himself. His legs were a bit weak and his head a bit dizzy – adding to the full feeling in his mind, but it only took a few minutes to regain his balance and equilibrium.

Even sixteen years later, the medical bay of a venator was still familiar to him as he looked around at his surroundings. Now, what did that say about him? Taking a tentative step forward, his feet slowly started to move and took him to the lavatory, where he filled a cup of water and guzzled it down. Running a hand through the water from the faucet, he raked it slowly through his hair and down his face.

He didn’t want to look up. He didn’t know why. But he did anyways.

There was not a time he could remember having seen himself with so much color. Color in his hair, color in his skin, color in his eyes. His hair had brightened, no longer bleached by nearly ten years under the twin suns of a desert planet, a mix of blonde and brown and ginger. His greying and stretched skin were once again flush with pigment and peach colors. Eyes that were usually tired and dull and grey had a stone blue color come back to them. The wrinkles on his face had lessened considerably. Taking another deep breath, he stepped back to study himself. Amor parts were stuck to his body, not just the vambraces but the pauldrons and gorget and greaves as well. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed this; the mix of soft robes and the protection of the pauldron, the vambraces, the greaves. He should have worn them when he had fought Grievous, he mused.

He was dressed for battle, for war. It was not quite how he was during the beginning of the war, but more of the middle of the fighting, a bit into the skirmishes and conflicts. Hands trailing down the armor and robes, they came down to his belt and the clip that was attached there. His lightsaber wasn’t on his belt. He wasn’t particularly worried.

He sighed, unsure of what to make of this.

In the mirror, it was him, for sure. It looked like Obi-Wan, but he knew he was Ben.

Quinlan

Quinlan wondered how this invasion had gone through the first time.

He felt rather out of place throughout the entirety of the incursion. He was present for the briefings, barely putting in his two cents, generally when it came to anything resembling sneak attacks or espionage. The Resolute and the Negotiator had both broken through the Separatist blockade with surprising and remarkable ease, swiftly rendezvousing with General Tiin’s venator and his forces. He was on his own ship, calling most of the shots as the most senior available general present, and directing the battle within the space around the planet. Although Master Tiin portrayed mostly calm during his calls with the other leaders coming to help him, he looked determined but still a bit rattled and definitely tired. General Krell was on the surface, getting battered down by the local militia. His communications kept cutting in and out, but he demanded reinforcements.

That would come in the form of the 501st, much to Skywalker’s displeasure.

Quinlan could understand, to an extent. He had worked with some clones before, but he didn’t have his own battalion or legion or squad. He would work with whoever was on hand and whoever could work on his current mission, if anyone. But he did know that many of the generals were rather protective of their respective troopers. Not only did generals often get used to the type of troopers and personalities, but troopers themselves often got used to the type of leadership style their general had and often tailored their ways and plans around that. Switching up leaders and troops didn’t always work out incredibly well, especially with invasions and long campaigns.

Commander Cody would leave Quinlan, taking much of his forces of the 212th down to the surface with him. Not to reinforce Krell and his side attack, marching for the Capitol, but rather to assault from the other side and box the Umbarans in. It was a good plan that Commander Cody had come up with, although by the look on his face, General Krell clearly wasn’t entirely convinced. Quinlan apparently had a lot more faith in the commander than Krell did, which seemed rather odd considering Quinlan probably had a lot less experience with the clone troopers.

Just as Master Windu had claimed, Anakin Skywalker himself would lead fighters to pick off the forces in space and if needed, provide direction for the bombers, if necessary, on the surface below.

Anakin himself would lead much of the space fighters as well as the bombers for the surface below. Quinlan had heard plenty about how great of a pilot Anakin was and how much he loved to fly. He found it rather amusing since, once upon a time, Obi-Wan himself had felt the same way. It was almost interesting on how things changed.

Quinlan felt uncomfortable and odd in the position he was in, standing on the bridge of his best friend’s ship, trying to help and order out calls that would bring them closer to victory. He was used to small forces, sneaking around with more missions that included investigating and espionage; it was something that he was good at now. Undercover, intelligence. He was usually the one giving the Generals advice and plans; next and vital places to hit or defend. He wished Obi-Wan was awake.

His friend was much better at this sort of thing.

“Let me know when Obi-Wan wakes up?” Anakin asked gruffly as Quinlan escorted him to his fighter. They had talked a bit on what would happen as time went on after the briefings and breaking easily through the blockade, and Skywalker hadn’t been exactly intently keen on leaving his master to fight in space as much as it was fairly obvious that he was eager on flying.

“Focus on the mission,” Quinlan answered instead, trying to sound like he could give good advice. Somehow, he always felt like this was easier with Aalya. Maybe it was because she wanted to hear his advice and actually tried to listen to him sometimes. “Keep your attention in the here and now. Obi-Wan is safe and he would want you to be too. At least, as much as you can be in this scenario. If you worry too much, it could put you and your men in jeopardy.”

“Fine,” Anakin huffed.

“I’m sure you will be one of the first people he will want to see when he does wake up,” Quinlan pointed out and then paused briefly. “And figures out that he has time traveled.”

Anakin shifted uncomfortably as he glanced at the Kiffar master. He looked rather uncertain, most likely about this entire thing. “If that’s what happened.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I’m just saying that it might… not be the case,” he pointed out, a bit slowly, watching Quinlan like he could get all the answers that way. Quinlan couldn’t really tell what the knight was thinking, for someone so passionate and emotional, sometimes he could be hard to read. Maybe because there always seemed to be toomuch emotion there. Did Anakin not want Luke to be right?

“Luke is telling the truth,” Quinlan answered and looked for Anakin’s reaction. There was very little to work with, he just kind of stared. “However,” Quinlan shot back, gravely. “It is not a bright future.”

He looked away, his brows furrowing. “Well, if it is time travel… then we can change it,” Anakin suggested in some form of insistence, but he didn’t seem too sure on what to think about this. Quinlan thought back to their earlier conversation how their friend may have changed. It wasn’t exactly something either of them wanted to think about too hard. “Obi-Wan won’t be on the run again.”

“We will try our best,” Quinlan agreed carefully. There were no absolutes, no guarantees. He didn’t want to make the future worse but with what he had learned from Luke, he wasn’t sure if that was possible. It was, deep in his heart he knew it was, but he couldn’t quite imagine them changing things so poorly, knowing what they knew, and it coming out even worse than the future that Obi-Wan and Luke knew.

“Is he still with Obi-Wan?”

“Luke?” Quinlan asked before his brain could catch up with his mouth. Of course, that was what he meant, and Quinlan knew it. His mouth just ran off with him. “Yes. I figured if he just stayed there, it would keep him out of trouble.”

Anakin hummed but didn’t seem completely convinced. They had arrived at the docking bay were fighters and their pilots were doing last checks before they would head out and join General Tiin’s forces. Anakin’s togruta padawan shouted and waved him over. Anakin glanced at her with a gesture before turning back towards Quinlan. “That is my cue. See you at the end of this, Vos.”

“May the Force be with you,” Quinlan nodded.

“And with you, master,” Anakin winked.

Ben 2

Regaining his complete composure and erasing the wrinkles within his equanimity and clothes alike, Ben glanced around the medical bay just to sate his curiosity. The door wasn’t locked, medicine and tools, even ones that could conceivably be used as a weapon were not taken away or padlocked and sealed away. Pulling on his boots and making sure his greaves went over them, he simply just walked out the door. The venator and star destroyers were not completely different but there had always been noticeable differences. Whoever was doing this certainly did a good job of restoring the old Republic ship. If Ben didn’t know better, he would have even thought that this was his own flagship, the Negotiator.

It even feltlike the Negotiator.

He nearly felt dreadful for feeling like he missed it. He walked down the halls, they were mostly vacant, although Ben couldn’t say he was terribly surprised. Whoever had set this up did a remarkable job with the ship itself but finding any clones, especially ones that would be willing for this little charade would have been more than just a little difficult. There was also the little obstacle that the clones looked quite a bit older now than they had during the war. All the same, he avoided those that were through the halls, although there weren’t many. They were even dressed in clone trooper armor, much to Ben’s bitter surprise. The armor type itself was a rare find these days.

Often finding himself running his hand along the smooth walls, Ben could only feel mournful. It was a terrible time, the war, of course. He abhorred what they had to do, even though he knew it was right. To protect. He hated what they had been forced to do, he couldn’t stand that he had to lead people such as the clone troopers to their deaths. There was no choice on any end and then, once it was all said and done and the jedi and cloens had done their part, they had been just disposed of.

And no one had even cared.

The Jedi had been exterminated, murdered by those they tried to protect and those they had loved as family.

The clones had been brainwashed and enslaved, stripped of their minds and free will and forced to kill the people that cared about them and loved them as family. Then slowly, as the programming ate away at their mind and psyche, they were killed off on desolate planets as canon fodder and sacrifices.

Tears swelled up in his eyes, his feelings bubbling up in his chest and mind, pressing, pressing, pressing against him in such a terrible friction that he couldn’t get away from. He had tried not to think too hard on what he had lost for some time, there was no use on thinking about it so much. No use on dwelling on things one could not change. No matter how much he wanted to. If he could change anything, what he would give.

Ben hadn’t even realized he had stopped, leaning against the wall, his forehead cooling against the metal of the hallway barriers. He took deep breathes but it didn’t seem like enough. Nothing felt enough.

Sometimes he regretted forcing Boil to leave them. Luke had loved him and having another person around had done wonders for him. Boil was a friendly face, despite how grumpy he often acted during the war, and his skill and loyalty was somethings Ben had always admired from him. He remembered the clone’s desperation, begging him to stay, giving all the reasons he could be useful.

As if usefulness was the reason Ben would have wanted him alone.

Ben knew that it was much too dangerous. Vader would just take another loved one away from him and Luke was in danger enough as it was. But he couldn’t keep Luke away like he could with Boil. He hadn’t been able to subject Boil to the life he was forced to lead, running from and fighting off someone as the likes of Darth Vader.

He still regretted it sometimes though. It had been so nice to have someone else around.

Ben hoped he was happy with Rex. Happy wherever he was, with whoever he was with.

“Sir?” an achingly familiar voice asked, uncertainly.

He sighed and turned, still leaned against the wall. In front of him was a clone trooper, mostly within armor sans his helmet, which was hanging on his belt. With a fairly standard haircut, his face was void of tattoos, but he sported a small scar near the hairline. A bit of scruff was starting to come in around his chin.

“Hello there, trooper,” he greeted, pleasantly. There was no need to be mean to any of these actors or constructs. It was an incredible likeness, he noted. Whoever or whatever this was, the resemblance was uncanny. “May I inquire your name?”

“Seven, sir,” the trooper saluted, perfectly. “But most brothers call me Sev. You can, if you want. O-Or not, that’s fine too. I don’t have much of a preference,” he rambled, shrinking back and a little with a slight flush to his cheeks.

“Thank you, Sev. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

He didn’t remind Ben at all of Alpha-17, but his name had made his mind call back to him. Ben wondered what may have happened to the old captain. Was he stripped away of his free – and very strong – will and forced to become nothing but a droid made of flesh and bone, bowing to the whim of a government and military that used him like he wasn’t even a person? Ben had a hard time thinking the programing and brainwashing would even work on Alpha-17, just because of who he was, how independent and intense he could be. But then again, Ben mused, it had completely erased Cody’s steadfast loyalty and determination, it had taken everything from one of the strongest people Ben had known.

The trooper hesitated; eyeing Ben like he wasn’t sure if he should speak. “Are you alright, sir?”

“Just a little tired,” he admitted. “I’m not entirely sure where I am.”

He wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that. Sev certainly seemed to have an idea.

Sev straightened and brightened a little. “I can help you sir! I know this ship like nobody else! Don’t get me wrong, I fight a lot, I do my part! But I don’t sit still very well so when I’m not in the field, I’m going around the ship. Sorry, I’m kinda rambling again aren’t I. I can take you to the bridge, sir, if that is where you want to go. I mean, I’d imagine you would want, considering we are in the middle of a battle, but you know, ya never know…”

Although he continued to ramble, Ben’s hearing faded. In the middle of a battle? How did one construct that? It seemed a little extreme in attempt to convince him.

“That would be nice, Sev. Thank you,” he announced suddenly, breaking whatever sentence the trooper was in the middle of. “I would love your help, mind escorting me?”

The soldier nodded, eagerly and Ben straightened, launching himself to stand next to the youngster. He offered his arm. “I’m just a bit unsteady, would you mind?”

“Of course, sir!” Sev nodded and wove his arm through Ben’s so the older man could lean on him if wanted or if he fell, Sev could easily catch him. He took a careful step, just to make sure that Ben could move with him. Ben wasn’t sure if he had surprised the trooper or not but their steps in time got quicker to a normal, but abit brisk, pace.

Few soldiers that they had passed, as limited as there were even, batted an eye, although many of them had their faces covered in helmets. He wondered, although a bit absentmindedly, where one had gotten all these actors to play their parts in such armor.

He wanted to reach out into the Force, if only to try and feel the unwavering and constant calm he knew that had once practically oozed, the sense of loyalty that made him truly believe that they would always be by his side, no matter what they had gone through, no matter what they would go through. Once upon a time, he had taken such comfort in knowing he had such good men watching his back, and his sides and he, theirs.

Closing his eyes briefly, he imagined him feeling it, but he didn’t reach out. He couldn’t be disappointed like that again when he didn’t feel it, when all he would feel was the murky, cold harshness of the dark side, smothering all good things.

“It’s good to see you up and at ‘em sir!” another soldier greeted as he passed. Ben opened his eyes and trailed him. He sounded like a trooper too.

He tried not to think too hard on it.

“Oh wow! General, you are up! You gave us just a tad bit of worry there,” yet another clone they passed spoke as he slowed his gait. “We weren’t that worried, we had complete faith in Helix and that you would wake up.”

He sounded like a trooper too.

Something felt caught in his throat.

“Are you alright, sir?” Sev asked, shooting him a concerned glance.

It felt so real. He could almost feel the trooper’s concern in the Force. Ben pulled back. No, he wouldn’t go through that again. Even if there weretroopers here, even if Sev was somehow a clone from back in the war days, there wouldn’t really be anything to feel if did reach.

He wanted to reach.

“I am fine, thank you,” he replied politely.

It was mostly silence from then on to the bridge but Sev had pause to swipe his card for the door open so they could get inside. Ben had stopped and took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever was on the other side. He didn’t believe he would like it.

***

Quinlan 2

“Which system are we currently in, Admiral?”

Out of all the things Quinlan had expected to hear at that very moment, Obi-Wan’s voice was not anywhere near the top of the list. In fact, for a moment, he had even thought that it had been just him hearing things, maybe some wishful thinking. But no, looking over – everyone looking over – Quinlan’s childhood friend stood at attention nearing the front of the bridge, gazing out at the space battle before them.

“Obi-Wan!” he yelped, wide- eyed as he reached for him. Everyone turned to look at him, surprised and shocked.

Obi-Wan shifted away from him, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Hmm,” he hummed, dryly. “Fascinating.” Then he turned back, no longer interested, towards the admiral and other troops at the helm. He looked tired, even more so than when he was asleep or in his unexplainable coma, but he held himself the way Quinlan had always seen him carry himself during the war, or when he had been with politicians, even before the war had started.

Next to him was a young trooper, face and armor barely marked or scuffed up. Either he was extremely new, or he just kept his armor nice and clean. It could have been either, if Quinlan was being honest.

“This is Seven,” Obi-Wan said, gesturing to the clone that he was attached to. It was a matter of fact, as his tone had been thus far. There was no room for debate for whatever reason. “Harm or touch him, I will take off your heads.”

That…was not a threat that one heard from Obi-Wan very often but by the way he said it, Quinlan had believed him. He was, in fact, quite good at relieving appendages. The stares had gotten even wider and incredulous. Even Seven’s expression was shocked as he stood still with the general. Quinlan was impressed; he figured most would have tried to flee by then.

But then again, Obi-Wan was threatening for Seven, not at him.

“Hey buddy,” Quinlan lowered his voice, as if trying to placate him. He kept his hands a bit casual but open where Obi-Wan could see them. He knew that something would happen when Obi-Wan woke up, although he hadn’t been sure what and he had thought that he wouldn’t have woken up now, of all times. He was probably just confused. “Look, Obes. It’s me, Quinlan Vos, your friend.”

“I know who that is,” Obi-Wan scoffed.

“Alright cool,” Quinlan nodded. “So, you were in this unexplainable coma for a bit, not super long. Not even a day really, but it did kind of freak people out.”

“I would request your hallucination end, please,” Obi-Wan interrupted, his voice cold as steel his eyes flashing in reflection of that. “I am aware of what is happening, and I am telling you, it is not necessary.

And wasn’t Obi-Wan just full of surprises today. Time travel, new padawans, and now belief that this was a delusion or mirage.

“This…this isn’t a hallucination, Obi-Wan,” Quinlan sputtered, trying his best to keep his disbelief under control. It was rather uncharacteristic of him but the thought that his friend didn’t think any of this was real, it broke his heart more than he would dare to admit. It was such a contrast between Luke’s sure thinking and Obi-Wan’s intense cynicism and skepticism.

“Oh yes, I’m sure,” Obi-Wan just hummed, his words biting on sarcasm, but he didn’t even glance over at Quinlan. “This is very real, Sidious. That is fine. You probably used this battle thinking you could use it to torture me and one of my great many failures. But the joke is on you, emperor, I will move forward to save as many lives as I can, even as this is an illusion.”

“You think…you think I am a Sith,” Quinlan’s response ended up falling a bit flat, somewhere between an observation and a question. He wasn’t completely in on all of the Council’s theories and findings but knowing one of the Sith’s name was something that higher level shadows knew, especially those who were investigating it. It appeared, from how Obi-Wan was acting, he knew exactly who that person was.

That was going to change everything.

“Hmm. Well, Vader would certainly not care for this type for mind manipulation,” Obi-Wan pointed out plainly, tightening his grip ever so slightly on his clone companion. “He is much rather the type to just torture and kill me. Especially me. You understand. So yes, Sidious.”

“Why is he me, specifically?” Quinlan asked. He knew who Vader was and the fact that he did made what Obi-Wan said all the more horrifying. What could have possibly been done for Anakin Skywalker to absolutely loathe and abhor Obi-Wan, someone he was generally fairly possessive of?

“My first wartime assignment with Master Vos was the hunt for Ziro the Hutt, which you should know, since it was public record,” Obi-Wan listed, calmly. He seemed a little irate, however, like he didn’t want to explain something that shouldn’t have to be explained. “And I remember any other times I’ve worked with him after that. It was not on a planetary campaign such as this,” he paused, his brows furrowing as he seemed to think more about what he was saying. “…what system is this trooper?” Obi-Wan suddenly asked, his question turning kind and soft as he directed it towards one of the nearby clones.

The clone glanced between the two of them. “Umbara, sir.”

“Master Vos,” Obi-Wan replied confidently, still continuing with the bite of sarcasm. He would have been nearly proud if his friend hadn’t been disillusioned by what was happening and thought that this wasn’t real. “Had not been present at the invasion of…” he stopped abruptly and stared at the planet through the viewing board, his arm dropping from the clone trooper he had been hanging onto.

“Obi-Wan?” Quinlan questioned, taking a small step forward.

“Umbara,” he whispered, breathy and horrified. His pupils dilated and his brows scrunched up into something of dread, like this was worse than he was imagining. Something terrible happened here, Quinlan could see.

“Sir?” Sev questioned, nearly poking at him to get his attention.

“Where are my troops?” Obi-Wan seemed to drop from his trance just as quickly as it had come and asked instead, his voice low and demanding, his gaze sweeping along the entourage of clone troopers at their stations.

“Obi-Wan?” Quinlan tried again.

“Where is Commander Cody and the 212th? Where is Lieutenant Waxer and his platoon?” Obi-Wan barked, his lip curling in the demand, eyes flaring into something of pressure, importance, and panic.

“On the surface sir,” a trooper replied quickly, sensing the urgency. “They’re launching a strike against the capitol. They intend to box the natives in alongside General Krell with the 501st once the latter take the airbase nearby that is supplying the capitol.”

Obi-Wan’s face completely paled, nearly devoid of color as he seemed to fall into that trance again. It lasted even less time this round as his diminished face did something odd, nearly darkening alongside his eyes, which had turned absolutely stony and cold. “Krell.”

The name had sent shivers down Quinlan’s spine. It wasn’t the name itself; he knew, Quinlan barely even recognized the name aside from his position in this invasion, but the way Obi-Wan had said it? Quinlan suddenly wanted to rip the besalisk’s head off. Which, even for Quinlan, that was rather extreme. He quickly realized that the feeling was coming from Obi-Wan. Something happened with General Krell and Obi-Wan did not appreciate him for it.

“Sir?” the trooper who had answered him, queried.

“Get me General Krell,” Obi-Wan demanded, his lip curling. “Get communications up with him immediately.”

“Sir, we can’t,” the brave trooper shook his head, biting his lip a little. It wasn’t exactly fear emanating off of him; Quinlan had yet to find a trooper that truly feared for themselves when it came to their general, but it was something else. Fear for the situation, perhaps. “The local militia has cut off communications, we can barely get anything through, barely a few words, much less consistent transmission.”

Obi-Wan cursed loudly in a language Quinlan wasn’t completely familiar with. The other troopers looked vaguely uncomfortable and glanced away. Perhaps they recognized it.

“Obi-Wan,” Quinlan stared, as he stepped even closer. “Calm down. We can figure this out, whatever it is,” he said, trying to placate his friend when he…he noticed something was not quite right with this. He paused and straightened himself, looking around, curiously. This…this didn’t make sense. Where was… “Wait. How are you up anyways?” he asked, his brows scrunching up together in confusion. “I thought Luke was supposed to be with you?”

His friend stiffened and for the longest moment nothing happened. It was as if time itself had just completely shut down. Obi-Wan’s head swiveled around slowly towards him until finally, Quinlan abruptly found himself pinned to an open wall.

Everyone around them had jumped but didn’t dare make a move.

“How do you know that name?”

His voice was low and deadly. Quinlan hadn’t heard that since…since Anakin had been kidnapped when he was a teenager. It had not been a pretty time and Quinlan had nearly been the only other person who could keep Obi-Wan from completely destroying everything in the way of him and his padawan. Quinlan hadn’t thought he would ever hear that tone again.

“Obes….” Quinlan struggled out. Obi-Wan wasn’t choking him, per say, but his grip was enough that Quinlan didn’t dare to even try to move away with his friend’s armor digging into his chest. He didn’t actually think Obi-Wan would do anything to harm him and schooled his body to quiet himself. “Calm down, he appeared…. he appeared with you.”

Quinlan wished he had better words to explain.

“What have you done with him?”

“Nothing, Obi,” Quinlan stressed as he even leaned forward into his space. He stared straight at him, serious as he had ever been with this childhood friend of his. “I swear nothing. He hasn’t left your side since we found you.”

Obi-Wan stared at him for a long moment. He seemed to believe him and found something in his gaze so let him go and cursed again, although less loudly this time around. He looked back at the troopers and then surveyed the battlefield of space in front of him. “Umbara. Boil. Waxer,” he muttered to himself as he came to some realization. He straightened again and took another quick glance around before spewing out some words and orders that Quinlan didn’t quite understand. The others on the bridge certainly did and they took it completely to heart, using the communications to lay out a different plan of attack and defense than what was used previously.

Apparently, the plan must have been a good one.

Quinlan wondered if it was the same one Obi-Wan had used the first time.

No one dared to move when he stormed off the bridge, the only one immediately following being Seven, the clone trooper that had brought Obi-Wan in. The jedi had given the trooper a gentle tug and he had assumed that meant he had wanted Seven to follow him. Quinlan guessed he was probably right.

It was only moments before Quinlan ran after him.

“Obi-Wan!”

Said man did not stop, just storming through the halls, projecting a cloud of determination and fear. The trooper he had brought with him was no longer led around, just followed dutifully, keeping pace with his general.

He finally caught up but hesitated to touch him. Even though Obi-Wan was covered, from his feet all the way to neck, he didn’t want him to lash out.

“Stop!”

Obi-Wan did and spun around, blue grey eyes flashing. “If you truly aren’t a Sith Lord, you will let me go save my kid,” Obi-Wan snarled, his eyes flaring in such resolve that Quinlan hadn’t seen since Anakin was a teenager and still adored his master. His hiss held such vitriol, shoulders rolling into some kind of subtle stance, waiting for a fight.

“Of course, Obi-Wan,” Quinlan said, softening his voice. Obi-Wan eyed him warily. “I’m sorry I lost your padawan, I told him to stay by you for you when you woke up but apparently, he had other ideas. But if you are going to go after him, you need to calm down,” he insisted, gently, keeping his hands out where they could be seen. “You know how you get when you are all worked up before a conflict.”

Obi-Wan paused, mulling this over for a moment. Quinlan didn’t move while he closed his eyes momentarily, taking a few deep breaths. It was a start, he suspected. It wasn’t Obi-Wan’s completely usual mediation, as he would generally rather find a quiet place – he was fond of gardens and caves – to sit and stay, to calm and meditate. He exhaled.

“That feel better?”

Opening his eyes, Obi-Wan glanced at him, his expression smoothing into the calm and pacify. “That was sound advice,” Obi-Wan hummed, although Quinlan knew him, he was wary of the ulterior motives.

“I would like to come with you, to find your padawan.”

“Absolutely not,” Obi-Wan snorted, turning away and starting back towards what Quinlan assumed would be the docking bay. “I cannot trust you.”

That hurt, Quinlan thought but he told himself it was only because he thought this whole thing was fake and staged by an evil Sith. Quinlan wasn’t entirely sure how that would work but then again, Obi-Wan was the one from the future, he would surely know better than Quinlan would.

“You can trust me,” he insisted, pressing forward. “I know who Luke is, he told me.”

Obi-Wan stiffened and his stride had skipped a little.

“We met in the future again, after the fall of the Order on a tiny planet at a café,” Quinlan explained easily what he had seen in Luke’s memories. He ahd seen several but it Luke had seemed to make sure Quinlan had been able to see his and Obi-Wan’s reunion after the fall of, well, everything. He hoped this would help convince Obi-Wan that he was real, that he knew this and could help. “It was by chance, but it was almost sixteen years after the Empire rose.”

His intended target had slowed his gait a little more as he looked down and away. Quinlan ushered the soldier accompanying them away quietly. The trooper looked a little hesitant as he glanced at his general but eventually did what he was told.

“How…no one knew that,” Obi-Wan’s voice cracked a little.

“Obi-Wan, I am here to help you,” Quinlan insisted, stressing the phrase. “You can trust me. Here,” he unclipped and offered his saber, pressing it into Obi-Wan’s gloved hand. “Since I’m pretty sure the kid took yours,” he gestured to his friend’s belt.

Obi-Wan looked down and cursed once again, shaking his head. He was full of such colorful language, Quinlan would have loved it and teased him about it mercilessly if it hadn’t been for the circumstances. He took the saber and hooked it to his belt, carefully.

He looked at Quinlan and studied him, staring intently. “It’s so hard to tell,” he confessed. “I don’t want to lead the Sith to Luke, but you act just like Quinlan, you are doing things that a Sith probably would never do, you know things that only Quinlan would know or, if Luke had actually talked to him. And if he had, then why would you need me to lead you to him?”

“I’m not a Sith, Obi-Wan. I am just Quinlan Vos, always have been and this time, always will be,” Quinlan asserted.

The next thing Quinlan knew, they were tucked into their respective Jedi starfighters, making last checks to get to the planet surface. A little red and silver astromech droid spun over to them, screeching and beeping at him. Obi-Wan just stared.

“Hello Arfour. It has been quite some time, hasn’t it?”

The reply was slow and a bit mournful.

“Would you mind accompanying me on a mission? Just to the planet surface, your flying is much better and often fancier than mine,” Obi-Wan replied, looking down at the droid as his gaze softened. Quinlan wondered when he had lost the droid, to see it as some kind of familiar face. “I have lost someone quite dear to me and I need to find him.”

Quinlan couldn’t actually make out the droid’s beeps and whirs from where he was standing next to his own ship, but he could hear some sounds coming out. Obi-Wan just smiled, faint and tight and nodded. “I would appreciate that, Arfour.”

The droid got settled into the nest and port of the starfighter and Obi-Wan jumped into the cockpit of his ship. Quinlan quickly followed suite in his own.

Space never really ceased being cold.

To his credit, Quinlan had waited until they got into a lull of the battle. Shots were still being fired but they hadn’t been in the thick of it while he asked.

“Hey Obes, you mind asking me askin’ you a question?” Quinlan asked as he spun around to avoid some fire that chased in his direction.

“I imagine that no matter my answer you will ask nonetheless,” Obi-Wan just replied, rather dryly.

Quinlan took that as permission. “Look, I know it is a war zone and all, but why are you so frantic? He’s an older teenager and with you being around, I’m sure he has had plenty of training, enough to definitely hold his own no doubt. And besides, he’s got a bunch of the 212th around him, I have no doubt they will protect him as much as they can. They’re quite the bunch of guys you got there, buddy. I kinda like them.” In honesty, Quinlan had met very few of the 212thattack battalion at this point but he had met Commander Cody several times and rather liked him.

There was silence from the other fighter.

“Look buddy. I already know you went through this already.”

There was another moment of silence. Quinlan nearly thought that he wouldn’t actually answer but eventually Obi-Wan’s voice came over the commlink and communications, just one between the two of them. “Luke is friends with Boil. He knows Waxer dies during the war. I don’t know how he figured out this invasion is where it happened.”

“Are they your troops?” he knew the answer, really, but it was enough to keep the conversation going, at least for a moment.

“Boil and Waxer are some of my best.”

Quinlan didn’t doubt it. Obi-Wan did not just give out praise that high and blatant lightly. And if Boil had met and befriended Luke, that also meant he had survived the war. At least some of the clones did.

“Well, I suppose we should save them, shouldn’t we?”

There wasn’t much talk after that, as the two of them were more focused on not getting shot and blown away from enemy ships, avoiding them even more so as they breached the atmosphere, even taking out bombers and enemy ships on their way.

Quinlan had gotten a brief message through and even a short response with a place where the two jedi starfighters could land. Obi-Wan had nearly flown out of his cockpit once he had barely touched down. Commander Cody approached, having waited for their arrival with confused concern.

“General Vos, is there-,” the Commander started, his voice thick until he stopped, both verbally and physically once he caught sight of Obi-Wan. “General Kenobi! You’re up, sir, I…”

“Where is Lieutenant Waxer’s platoon?” Obi-Wan ignored him and walked up, although Quinlan had saw a flash of grief and sorrow in his face. He still thought this wasn’t quite real, he realized.

He could feel the hurt thumping from Commander Cody but to his credit, he took in stride. “My apologies sir,” he replied, rather stiffly, but otherwise completely cool and professional. “They had been at the southeast corner when, last I heard, they had received intelligence about natives coming up on their flank, trying to appropriate a sneak attack on them,” his voice turned mournful and wavering as he tried to keep Obi-Wan’s gaze.

Ben stared at him for a brief moment, his breath becoming quicker. His head whipped around, as if looking for the battle. “No,” he whispered. “It’s already happening.”

“Sir?” Commander Cody’s voice shifted. “What has happened?”

The jedi just spun around towards the southeast. “Commander, I need you to stay here. I trust your orders and plan will pan out; you know what you are doing,” he said quickly as he started towards the direction. Quinlan shot after him.

“General! Where are you going?” Commander Cody called after him.

“It’s a trap!” Obi-Wan yelled back. “Those aren’t Umbarans! It’s the 501st!”

The men they find are jittery and a just a tad bit slow.

They were on their way back to rejoin with Commander Cody’s forces and although jumped and pointed their blasters at the movement that was Obi-Wan and Quinlan barreling through the terrain, they didn’t fire.

They seemed to fear to.

When Obi-Wan demanded for the appearance of their leader, Lieutenant Waxer, a different clone appeared. That was rather apparent by the look on Obi-Wan’s face. “Where is your platoon leader, Freefall?”

The clone saluted easily but Quinlan could tell his hand was shaking. “He’s not here, sir. We…we nearly shot our own men. If it hadn’t been for the little jedi…” he drifted off, his eyes and voice a bit dazed at the notion.

Friendly fire, Quinlan realized.

Somehow, he doubted this was poor and unfortunate coincidence.

“Where is he?” Obi-Wan pressed, edging on the side of desperation. He looked on the verge of near shaking the clone as if answers would just fall out of him. “Where is your Lieutenant?”

“Lieutenant Waxer told us to hold the ridge,” Freefall explained, trying to quicken his words to appease his general. “To protect Commander Cody’s flank. He and a few others went with the 501stand the commander.”

“The commander?” Quinlan questioned.

“The little Jedi,” Freefall pointed out with an unsure glance at him and then looked back at Obi-Wan. “We assumed he was a commander.” He hesitated and winced, clearly not wanting to speak what else was on his tongue. “Is…is he a General?”

“NO!” Ben cried, the sound tearing from his throat in some mix of emotions. “He doesn’t hold any rank! Where did they go?”

“They went back to the air base where the 501st had made their base.”

“Why?” Quinlan asked but for some reason, he feared the answer.

There was a hesitation so long that Quinlan nearly thought they wouldn't answer at all. Freefall and a few of the surrounding soldiers glanced at one another, something of fear and a touch of sympathy. "We think…they are going to arrest General Krell."

Quinlan blinked. He was missing something.

One of them continued. "He, General Krell, set this up, he told the same thing he told us to the 501st. We almost killed one another. The commander… the little jedi, he saved everyone."

Once again, Obi-Wan's skin paled into something greying and ashy. "No," he muttered under his breath, loud enough for at least Quinlan and Freefall to hear. "He's going to get himself killed."

Quinlan wasn't entirely sure if Obi-Wan's fear was completely founded. For some reason, he felt as though Luke stood, he better chance than he was giving the boy credit for. Then again, these were fairly extraordinary circumstances and Obi-Wan was worried, which was probably overreaching his usual calm and faith.

“Obes,” he said quietly, barely touching his friend’s arm. “How long have you been training Luke?”

Ben stared at him.

“Obi-Wan,” Quinlan repeated, a little more forceful. “How long?”

“Since he was nine,” Obi-Wan choked out.

Wasn’t that just fascinating.

“Is he any good?”

Obi-Wan nodded. Good, he had some faith then. His worry, coupled with the extreme circumstances were just clouding things. Quinlan could work with that.

“Then he has a chance, bigger than you probably think.”

“Krell has double lightsaber staffs. Luke hasn’t even seen that before.”

Quinlan suspected that Luke hadn’t seen barely any lightsabers before, but he didn’t say anything to that. Skywalker had always been extremely talented with a blade. Although it wasn’t guaranteed his son would be the same way, he speculated that it was the case.

He has a chance,” Quin repeated. “Let’s go, okay? Let’s go to the airbase and find him.”

Freefall gave them a speeder. Obi-Wan had even let Quinlan drive without saying a word. Finding and getting to the airbase wasn’t difficult at all but it was eerily quiet. As Quinlan skidded to a halt, Obi-Wan had jumped off before the engine had stopped and jogged into the airbase.

It was dark.

Quinlan had a bad feeling about this.

He caught up with Obi-Wan as they pushed through, going through levels and the doors of the base into an open room where communications and ships alike were held. They both had stopped near in time together.

It was so quiet.

Obi-Wan stood silently, looking and watching, almost in shock but Quinlan moved around to take a peek. There were a few bodies of troopers sprawled on the ground, most of them missing an arm or a leg or worse, a head. It wasn’t a massacre, exactly, Quinlan thought. There were only a couple, as horrible as it was, but over all, it was incredibly messy. The wounds and killing blows had been made from a lightsaber, that was for certain. It certainly wasn’t Luke who did this, even Quinlan knew that.

“Quin.”

Quinlan barely recognized his own name coming from Obi-Wan’s lips. He hadn’t called him that seriously since he had woken up. He hoped that Obi-Wan was coming to realize that this was real, that he had time traveled and it wasn’t a dream or hallucination or cruel Sith trick.

He looked over to where Obi-Wan was kneeling and jogged over to his side.

Obi-Wan hadn’t touched it and Quinlan surely wouldn’t.

It was an arm, thick and burly. It wasn’t a human’s, that was for sure. If Quinlan had to guess, it was Krell’s.

“It’s Krell’s arm,” Obi-Wan answered his unasked question and then carefully used a nearby prod to pry open the hand. A lightsaber tumbled out. “And one of his sabers.”

“He’s a bit like you,” Quinlan muttered, vaguely amused.

Even if Obi-Wan had heard him, he didn’t dignify it with an answer. “They are not here. Everyone is gone. There aren’t nearly enough bodies for this to be the entirety of the 501st.”

“That begs the question,” Quinlan added. “What happened and where did they go?”

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b0n-chann · 4 years

Text

Ad’ika // Chapter 2

Protector

Warnings: none

Summary: Din, after learning that he’s going to be a father, attempts to adjust to his new role.

Din Djarin has always been a protector, but ever since he’s learned about your pregnancy, he’s been down right overbearing.

Din is like an extension of yourself, a shadow that hovers, always looming over you. And while you love him dearly, it’s absolutely suffocating. In fact, it’s about the sixth time that morning he’s almost run into you as you walk through the market for supplies. The nearly empty market, because Din woke you up at dawn and just about demanded you go early to avoid the crowd.

You look behind your shoulder, trying to be patient. You are unsure, however, if it’s the pregnancy or the metal man wearing you thin.

“Can you stop that?” You snap. Din places his hands up in front of him, a weak attempt at an apology. You give him a huff and continue down your way, looking for the garment vendor you normally frequent here.

“Ah, hello, Miss!” A pleasant voice calls out to you and you smile. Ellie has always been kind to you, putting away things that she thinks you may like. “And your Mandalorian is here too, I see.” She offers you both a sweet smile.

“Hi, Ellie,” you greet in return, your mood lifting as you wander over to her stall. “How have you been?”

“Oh same as always, honey,” she replies. The older woman glances over you briefly before looking at Din standing closely behind you, his hand at the small of your back. “I have something I think you’d like!” Ellie exclaims as she turns to look for the scarf she saved for you from a previous shipment. She yelps in surprise when she turns back around, a blaster in her face.

“Mando!” You yell, placing your hand on his arm in an attempt to temper him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“How do you know we can trust her?” His voice hard and cold, a voice you haven’t heard since you first met him.

“You’re being ridiculous, Ellie is a friend!” Your grip tightens on Din’s arm. A warning for him to back down. Din lowers his aim but does not holster his blaster.

Ellie looks between the two of you and let’s out a light laugh. “My, my. Your Mandalorian is as protective as ever.” She shakes her head as she brings the brilliant burgundy scarf to the counter, as if she wasn’t just at the receiving end of a Mandalorian’s weapon. The woman is unwavering.

“I’m sorry about that,” you sigh. You admire the fabric in front of you, rich in color and silky to touch. “Oh this is beautiful.” The old woman did always have an eye for quality.

“It’s quite alright,” she says. “I remember when I was carrying my firstborn, too. My husband never left me alone.” She gives the both of you a knowing look.

“How did you know?” You ask in surprise.

“Call it a woman’s intuition, but you’re positively glowing, my dear!” She replies before she lets out a chuckle. “That, and Mando hasn’t let you leave his sight. Even more so than usual.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at her observation. “We are expecting,” you whisper to her, not exactly sure why you dropped your voice but you felt like it was too soon for other people to know.

“You’re going to be a wonderful mother,” Ellie remarks with a smile. “You already are! Where is your little one?” Right on cue, the child pops up from the bag you’ve been carrying him in.

“Hi, baby!” Ellie waves at the child as he babbles and waves his small hand back to her. “Such a sweet thing, and looking bigger than last time!”

“He is growing,” you tell the older lady. “Eating more and more every day too.” You bounce the child up a little higher for Ellie to take a look. She reaches over the counter to place her hand on his head but before she can get to close an armored body puts himself between you.

“That’s enough,” he says as he crowds you and the baby further behind him. Ellie shakes her head and laughs before you can chastise him.

“Oh don’t worry, I understand. Just make sure these get to them okay?” She folds up the scarf she had showed you earlier and placed a stuffed toy on top. “A present for the good news. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to celebrate anything.”

“Ellie...” you start, trying to pull out credits to pay her. She raises her hand to stop you.

“Please, dear, it’s fine. Save it for your growing family.” She hands the items over to Din before giving him a pointed look. “Now I expect you to treat her like the princess she is, okay? One bad word about you and I’ll have to teach you a lesson.” She shakes a pointed finger at him.

“Uh...yeah. Of course, okay.” Din manages to rattle out and you can’t tell if he’s nervous or embarrassed.

“We’ll see you soon and thank you for everything!” You call out to the woman as you tug Din’s hand to pull him away.

You place your arm in his as you walk down the market, looking for any last minute wares you may need before returning to the ship.

“You are in so much trouble when we get back,” you tell him through gritted teeth, sending a saccharine smile here and there to other vendors you have befriended over the past months. Din says nothing back in reply, but you can hear something that sounds an awful like a nervous gulp behind his helmet.

You make it back to the Crest late in the morning and Din seems to drag his feet more and more the closer the ship comes into view. He practically crawls up the ramp as you wait for him in the entrance bay.

“Well?” You ask him with a raised eyebrow, knowing you don’t have to explain your question. Din rubs the back of his neck nervously.

“Well, you see...” he starts, not entirely sure what to say. He’s overprotective by nature and he can’t help himself. Not when it comes to protecting you and the kid. And now that he knows your pregnant with his child it has become even worse. He’d keep you locked up in this ship if he could but he knows you’d probably try to light him on fire if he did.

You sigh, knowing you won’t get a response. Din hasn’t let you out of his sight since you told him the news. Just the other day, you accidentally cut your finger preparing a meal for the child and Din nearly had a meltdown. He forced you to lay down for the rest of the day and anything sharp and possibly dangerous to you was stowed away. You had indulged him then because he was such a mess of nerves. But you know now though that Din will probably send himself to an early grave if he keeps this up.

“Hey,” you say as you take a seat on a turned over crate putting the child next to you. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” Your voice now soft, the anger from earlier having disappeared.

Din takes a deep breath, willing himself to share his fears. “I’m...scared,” he says honestly after some time. The look on your face must tell him something because he is quick to add to his words. “Not of being a father, Mesh’la. You have given me something I never thought I could have and I am forever in your debt for it. I’m scared of losing you. Of losing all three of you. I...my parents...” Din starts, trying to form a coherent thought but the lump in his throat only grows bigger; making it more and more difficult to grasp at words.

Realization dawns on your face and you get out of your seat to wrap your arms around him. His parents. While you know he considers his Mandalorian tribe as a family, the way he lost his parents was traumatic, to say the least. You understand now his need to protect.

“Shh,” you soothe and you feel him slump against you as you press him to you. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“You have so many other things to worry about, I didn’t want to add to the list,” he admits. He places his head lightly on top of yours as he heaves a great sigh. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

“Din, we’re going to be fine. I’m pregnant, not injured or invalid. I’m still just as capable as before,” you argue.

“You deserve to be waited on hand and foot; not living on a ship, jumping from planet to planet. Not having to worry about when our next pay day is or if our lives are in danger. I feel like I’m failing you and our children.”

“Din Djarin, you absolutely are not. You have to trust me when I tell you I’m happy. So happy. I know we’re not exactly leading conventional lives right now but who cares? I’ve got you, the kid, and with another one on the way...isn’t that enough?” Tears prick your eyes and you try to blink them away. Damn hormones.

Din wipes them away quickly. “It’s more than enough, beautiful,” he murmurs softly. Carefully he places a hand on your stomach; still not showing to the world, but you both know. Not to be forgotten, the child walks up to the both of you and attempts to crawl up Din’s leg, a new tactic he’s learned to get your attention. Din laughs as he picks up the child and tucks him in his arm.

“Want to feel ad’ika, too, kid?” Din allows the child to lean forward and he places a small green hand atop his father’s. He coos happily before blinking up at you both in wonder and time seems to stop for a moment.

“What the...” you start. “Did you feel that too?” You ask Din in amazement. He can only nod back to you in response. You look down at the child, his small hand still on Din’s. “Did you do that, little thing?” You ask him and he babbles and smiles in response.

For a moment, when the child connected himself with the both of you, a sense of calm and happiness filled the entire ship. It was so fleeting it was almost missed, but it was definitely there. You place your hand over theirs and smile.

“He’s happy and knows he’s very loved already,” you tell him and Din visibly relaxes as he fully takes in the moment.

“He?” Din questions.

“He.” You affirm. “You already let the kid get away with everything, I can’t even imagine how bad you’ll be with a daughter.” You crack a smile, imagining a small girl with Din wrapped around her tiny finger.

“I do not,” he scoffs but you can tell he’s smiling under his helmet. He pulls you closer again, wrapping his arms around you and the child, still in awe at how lucky he is.

If he had been told when he first became a bounty hunter that this was his future he would have never believed it. He still doesn’t sometimes, when nightmares of the past wake him in such a cold sweat that he almost forgets where he is. It’s on those nights he reaches out for you, to make sure you’re real. But those nights have been coming farther and fewer in between. Another thing to add to the long list of reasons to thank you for.

Your sweet laugh brings him back to the present, and a sense of calm washes over him again.

“Don’t worry, you big softie, your secret is safe with me.”

Tag list:

@momc95 @electricprincess888 @maia-hocane @lamnothome @highonsoundwaves @tedpicklez @renreypoe @mabelleen @cryptkeepersoul @holamor @mando-vibes @lustriix @katialvi @spookyold-saintjm @sarcasm-n-insomnia @awesomefandomsunited @sentimental-ghost @mrsparknuts @oloreaa @sunkissed-winter @tiffdawg @keeper0fthestars @randomness501 @synystersilenceinblacknwhite

Please let me know if you’d like to be added/removed from the tag list!

#the mandalorian #din djarin #star wars #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x reader #ad’ika #din djarin imagine #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine

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fandomsnfluff · 3 years

Note

can you please do a lee reki and lers miya and langa drabble fic! (the setting being either a skatepark or one of they're houses) and reki just gets totally wrecked bc he was acting cocky and smugly you don't have to if you don't want to lol

sure anon, i’d be happy to!!

attitude (langa & miya/reki)

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

It was a rather warm Monday, and Reki, Langa, and Miya were off of school. They decided to meet up together at the skate park, just to have something to do on their day off rather than sit around and do nothing. What better than hanging with some of your closest friends doing things they all enjoyed on an off day with beautiful weather? It seemed perfect.

Reki and Langa had arrived first, and were waiting for Miya to show up for at least fifteen minutes. Reki decided to use the time wisely and do a little more coaching, helping Langa with his foot position on the board and with some of his balance issues. A shout of “hey!” from the entrance pulled Reki away from his focus on teaching, and he spotted Miya running towards them.

“Sorry I’m late,” the boy panted. “It took me a lot longer to finish the house chores than I anticipated.”

“Don’t worry about it!” Reki responded cheerfully, patting the boy’s head in a playful manner.

“Hey, don’t touch me, slime!” Miya hissed, but Reki could tell there was a hint of affection in the way the younger was looking at him. The redhead only chuckled, amused at his friend’s tone.

The boys spent a good hour skating together, showing each other tricks that they had been working on and sharing advice on how to improve their individual techniques. Miya, of course, had it all down, and his comments proved it; Reki’s kick flip had vastly improved after showing him an alternative way to move his front foot. It would also help to keep him safer and help him avoid falling as frequently as he did.

Then Reki, being the (somewhat of a) daredevil he was, decided to show it off, and to his surprise, it worked really well for him. Langa, of course, was inspired, so he figured that it would be very smart to attempt to copy Reki, even with the lack of coaching he had gotten on the same trick. Instead of nailing it, however, he ended up tripping over his board, resulting in him practically falling flat on his face.

“Are you all right?” Miya called, racing over to him as Reki laughed up a storm.

“He’s fine!” Reki assured him through his laughter. “He always gets up after falling, right, Langa?”

“Yeah, I’m good--” Langa assured the boy as he stood up.

However, Reki was still having some difficulty keeping together. As the three of them decided to take a bit of a break together, seeing as the weather was getting warmer and they had been at skateboarding nonstop for almost an hour, Reki still found himself giggling at how hysterical it was to see Langa practically facepalm from that. He had seen the taller teen go through many wipeouts, but the particular angle and nature of his fall was particularly funny.

“Could you stop it?” Miya snapped as Reki was still unable to control himself.

“S-sorry,” the redhead apologized. “Just-- the angle of Langa’s fall was so funny, I--” Then he broke into raucous laughter again.

Miya growled, glaring at the boy, but then Langa spoke up. “Don’t get mad, I’m not hurt. He reacts like this all the time.”

Miya, still glaring at Reki as he was trapped within another giggling fit, suddenly hatched an idea. If the redhead really wanted something to laugh at, something that was less harmful, he could have it.

“Oh, Reki?” Miya asked, his voice suddenly dropping in pitch, a frighteningly unfamiliar tone creeping into his speech as he addressed the older boy. “You really shouldn’t laugh when people get hurt.”

“That’s right.” Langa scooted closer to Reki, nearly cornering him against the bench, as Miya was trapping his other line of escape. “You shouldn’t laugh when people get hurt. It’s pretty insulting.” It was a bit contradictory considering his earlier comment to Miya. “It also isn’t very kind to brag, is it, now?”

“Look, I don’t know what’s gotten into you two,” Reki said, a note of unease creeping into his tone. “But I’m sorry, I’ll try not to laugh anymore.”

“You’ll try not to, or won’t you?” Miya was practically pinning Reki to the ground at this point, hands pressing his upper arms into the concrete. Beads of sweat began to appear on the boy’s forehead.

“Um, I won’t?” The statement came out as more of a question, and Miya smirked.

“Langa.” Miya gestured with his head, a signal for the older teen to move closer. “Do it.”

Without a single word, Langa grabbed Reki under the arms, the rest of his body on full display. The way their arms were locked together would make it impossible for the redhead to struggle free, as he was already trying to.

“What are you guys doing?” Reki asked, panic clearly in his voice as he squirmed in place, locked by Langa’s grip.

“Just teaching you a little lesson!” Miya suddenly cried, diving forward and digging his fingers into Reki’s sides. Of course, the gesture made the redhead scream, squirming around and attempting to bring his legs up to defend himself. However, Miya was too nimble, and he managed to pin his legs underneath him by sitting on his lap during the assault. The fingers dug into the spaces between his ribs and squeezed at the fleshy spots on his sides, making Reki jolt and howl with laughter.

“Oh my God,” Miya breathed out, struggling to contain his own laughter. “I figured you were ticklish, but this is, like, insane to me.” He then attempted to squeeze at the soft parts of his stomach, causing the redhead to jerk to the side with a squeal. Miya smirked; he would take his precious time with this, it was all too good.

“MIIIHIHIYAAHAHAHA STAHAHAP COHOME ON!!!” Reki screamed for like the fifth time when Miya decided to focus on his thighs, playfully squeezing at them, and occasionally scribbling his fingers along the backs of his knees, which made him squeal and attempt to kick. Then Reki screeched again, dissolving into another raucous flood of laughter as Langa tickled along his sides and stomach, all while keeping him in place. Miya was quite surprised by this; who knew that a stone-cold, at least on the outside, person could be so into something like tickling? Well, it was Reki, and anything that came to the redhead seemed to make Langa absolutely melt. He couldn’t help but wonder how much playful tussling they did in private with each other; there was no way that Langa didn’t know about this. Even though Langa was putting on one hell of a poker face, there was a glimmer pin his eyes that demonstrated nothing but admiration for the redhead. It was honestly lovely to see, but Miya would never say that aloud.

“PLEEEHEHEHEHEASE I’M SORRYYY!!!” Reki cried, his voice hoarse from all the laughing. Miya could see the tears trailing down his flushed cheeks, his chest heaving as he fought for breath through his laughter. But Miya decided that he was going to be a little shit, as if he wasn’t perfect in that area yet.

“You promise not to laugh when someone fails or wipes out like that?” Miya asked, drilling his thumbs into the creases of Reki’s hips, making him shriek until he lost his voice.

“YEEHEHEHES YESYESYESYES I PROMIHIHIHISE NOW GET OFF!!” Reki screamed.

“Good boy.” Miya stood up and plopped down next to Langa, watching the exhausted boy attempt to catch his breath as he leaned back against the taller teen. Now Miya couldn’t help but laugh himself.

“That was too funny! How are you that ticklish?” Miya doubled over, clutching his stomach as he attempted to stop laughing. “I swear, when the others hear about this--they just won’t stop!”

“Miya.”

The boy blinked up to meet the eyes of Langa, a protective emotion showing in his eyes. His grip on Reki had tightened, and he was now pulling the other teen closer to him.

Miya rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I get it, he’s yours. And you can have the slime.”

“Don’t you ‘slime’ me!” Reki snapped. “Not after all that you just did to me!”

“Well, you’ll always be a slime to me!” Miya hissed back. “You should be thanking me for teaching you a lesson.” “Lesson? That was your idea of a lesson? Sorry, but I prefer your flip kick lessons, thank you very much.”

Miya only snorted at the comment, but he blinked up to see Langa laughing quietly to himself. He felt a warmth spread to his cheeks at how lovely the sound was; part of him was a bit envious that Reki got to hear this sound as often as he did. Seriously, there was no way these two didn’t laugh together while they were alone.

But there was nothing that neither Miya nor Reki could do at hearing Langa’s laugh. The only thing that they could do was laugh themselves in response. Laughter truly was the language of the world.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

wOW this literally turned into a full-on fic skjdhfskjdfhd (it’s a lil over 1k words but whatever). well, regardless, i hope you enjoy this (somewhat special gift) drabble anon!! <3

#sk8 the infinity #sk8 fanfic #fanfic #sk8 #anime tickling #my posts #ask #anonymous

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blue-heronstairs10 · 3 years

Text

R&R quotes I tabbed

*RUIN AND RISING SPOILERS*

key:

{…} = thoughts in book

(…) = my commentary

*…* = action

emojis = expressions

[…] = my subtitles

italics = it’s italisized in the books

-…- = not actually said in book

——————————————————————————————————

Apparat: he should not address you so.

Alina: why not?

Apparat: it was the Darkling’s title and is unfitting for a Saint.

Alina: then what should he call me?

Apparat: he should not address you directly at all.

Alina: next time he has something to say, I’ll have him write me a letter.

——————————————————————————————————

Zoya: are you ever going to name that thing?

Harshaw: she has a name.

Zoya: Oncat is not a name. it’s just Kaelish for cat.

Harshaw: suits her doesn’t it?

——————————————————————————————————

{David and Genya kept falling behind, but he seemed to be the one responsible for the lag. finally, Toyla hefted the huge pack from David’s narrow shoulders.}

Toyla: what do you have in this thing?

David: three pairs of socks, one pair of trousers, an extra shirt. one canteen. a tin cup and plate. a cylindrical slide rule, a chondrometer, a jar or spruce sap, my collection of anticorrosives,-

Toyla: you were only supposed to pack what you need.

David: *nods emphatically* exactly.

Alina: please tell me you didn’t bring all of Morozova’s journals.

David: of course I did.

Alina: maybe they’ll make good kindling.

David: is she kidding? *concerned look* I can never tell if she’s kidding.

Alina: {I was. mostly.}

——————————————————————————————————

Genya: David is oblivious. he’s been babbling about mineral compounds for the last hour.

Zoya: maybe he and Toyla will just put each other to sleep.

——————————————————————————————————

Harshaw: *cuts the sides of his scalp so there’s only hair in a single stripe down the center of his head*

Zoya: *shrieking* what did you do? you look like a deranged rooster!

Harshaw: Oncat insisted.

——————————————————————————————————

Mal: everyone okay?

Genya: never better.

David: *raises his hand* I’ve been better.

——————————————————————————————————

Mal: I am becoming a blade.

——————————————————————————————————

Ekaterina: I saw the prince when I was in Os Alta. he’s not bad looking.

Nikolai: *in the trees* not bad looking? he’s damnably handsome.

Nikolai: *still in the trees* brave in battle, smart as a whip. an excellent dancer. oh, and an even better shot.

Nikolai: *shoots Luchenko between the eyes*

——————————————————————————————————

Nikolai: first vomit, then tears. don’t tell me I’ve lost my touch.

Alina: I’m just happy you’re alive. though I’m sure you can talk me out of it.

——————————————————————————————————

Alina: thank goodness we had the foresight to be captured.

——————————————————————————————————

Nikolai: Saints, Alina. I hope you weren’t looking at me to be the voice of reason. I keep a strict diet of ill-advised enthusiasm and heartfelt regret.

——————————————————————————————————

Nikolai: we’re heading into Fjerda.

Alina: oh good. enemy territory. and here I was starting to relax.

——————————————————————————————————

Nikolai: it’s good to see you, Oretsev.

Mal: you too. thanks for the rescue.

Nikolai: everyone needs a hobby.

Mal: I thought yours was preening.

Nikolai: two hobbies.

——————————————————————————————————

Nikolai: Baghra, how are you this evening?

Baghra: still old and blind.

Nikolai: and charming. never forget charming.

Baghra: whelp.

Nikolai: hag.

Baghra: what do you want, pest?

Nikolai: I’ve brought someone to visit.

Alina: hello, Baghra.

Baghra: the little Saint. returned to save us all.

Nikolai: well she did almost die trying to rid us of your cursed spawn.

Baghra: couldn’t even manage martyrdom right, could you? come in and shut the door, girl. you’re letting the heat out.

Baghra: *turns to Nikolai* and you. go somewhere you’re wanted.

Nikolai: that’s hardly limiting. Alina, I’ll be back to fetch you for dinner, but should you grow restless, do feel free to run screaming from the room or take a dagger to her. whatever seems most fitting at the time.

Baghra: are you still here?

Nikolai: I go but hope to remain in your heart.

Baghra: wretched boy.

Alina: you like him. *disbelief*

Baghra: greedy. arrogant. takes too many risks.

Alina: you almost sound concerned.

Baghra: you like him too, little Saint.

Alina: I do. he’s been kind to me when he might have been cruel. it’s refreshing.

Baghra: he laughs too much.

Alina: there are worse traits.

Baghra: like arguing with your elders? *turns to Misha* boy, go fetch me something sweet.

(I’m sorry it’s so long it’s just,,, they’re so iconic and cute)

——————————————————————————————————

Alina: how does Nikolai know you’re the Darkling’s mother?

Baghra: he asked. he’s more observant than the rest of you fools.

——————————————————————————————————

Mal: I don’t reserve my friendship for perfect people. and, thank the Saints, neither does Alina.

(did mans just insult himself ?? 💀)

——————————————————————————————————

Genya: *talking about how David didn’t look at her before*

David: I know metal.

Genya: what does that have to do with anything?

David: I...I don’t understand half of what goes on around me. I don’t get jokes or sunsets or poetry, but I know metal. beauty was your armor. fragile stuff, all show. but what’s inside you? that’s steel. it’s brave and unbreakable. and it doesn’t need fixing. *kisses Genya*

Genya: 👁👄👁

Genya: *kisses David back empathcially*

David: *kiss ends* *😳😊*

Genya: *☺️😄*

(they’re the sweetest S&B couple don’t @ me)

——————————————————————————————————

Mal: you can introduce him to Ana Kuya.

Alina: I already unleashed Baghra on Nikolai. he’s going to think I stockpile vicious old women.

——————————————————————————————————

Mal: but I guess I’m the same selfish ass I’ve always been. for all my talk of vows and honor, what I really want to do is put you up against that wall and kiss you until you forget you ever knew another man’s name. so tell me to go, Alina. because I can’t give you a title or an army or any of the things you need.

Alina: goodnight, Mal.

(😳✋🏼)

——————————————————————————————————

Alina: *hits the side of a mountain with the Cut*

Everyone besides Baghra: *claps and whoops*

Baghra: hmph. they’d clap for a dancing monkey.

Nikolai: all depends on the monkey. and the dance.

——————————————————————————————————

Nikolai: does Morozova strike anyone as a little…eccentric?

Alina: if my eccentric you mean insane, then yes. I’m hoping he can be crazy and right.

——————————————————————————————————

Genya: I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Nikolai is growing on me. he’s nothing like his father. and the man can dress.

——————————————————————————————————

Nikolai: if you’re going to jump, at least give me time to compose a ballad in your honor. something with lots of sad fiddle and a verse devoted to your love of herring.

Alina: if I wait, I may have to hear you sing it.

Nikolai: I happen to have a more than passable baritone. and what’s the rush? is it my cologne?

Alina: you don’t wear cologne.

Nikolai: I have such a naturally delightful scent that it seems like overkill. but if you have a penchant for it, I’ll start.

——————————————————————————————————

Zoya: toss him over. break his heart cruelly. I will gladly give our poor prince comfort, and I would make a magnificent queen.

Alina: you actually might, Zoya. if you could stop being horrible for a minute.

Zoya: with that kind of incentive, I can manage a minute. possibly two.

——————————————————————————————————

{they wanted a Grisha Queen. Mal wanted a commoner Queen. and what did I want? peace for Ravka. a chance to sleep easy in my bed without fear. an end to the guilt and dread that I woke to every morning. there were old wants too, to be loved for who I was, not what I could do, to lie in a meadow with a boy’s arms around me and watch the wind move the clouds. but those dreams belonged to a girl, not to the Sun Summoner, not to a Saint.}

——————————————————————————————————

Genya: the day I curtsy to you is the day David performs an opera naked in the middle of the Shadow Fold.

——————————————————————————————————

Baghra: I am Morozova’s Daughter, and the Darkling is the last of Morozova’s line.

——————————————————————————————————

Alina: or a Ravkan heiress or a Grisha like Zoya.

Nikolai: Zoya? I make it a policy never to seduce anyone prettier than I am.

——————————————————————————————————

Nikolai: I love it when you quote me.

——————————————————————————————————

Genya: you’re the prettiest walrus I know.

——————————————————————————————————

Alina: turned out I needed a good cry.

Zoya: next time, invite me. I could use one too.

——————————————————————————————————

Zoya: do you know what Baghra told me at my first lesson with her? pretty face. too bad you have porridge for brains.

Harshaw: I sent fire to her hut in class.

Zoya: of course you did.

Harshaw: accidentally! she refused to ever teach me again. wouldn’t even speak to me. I saw her on the grounds once, and she walked right by. didn’t say a word, just whacked me on the knee with her stick. I still have a lump.

Nadia: that’s nothing. I had some kind of block where I couldn’t summon for a while. she put me in a room and released a hive of bees in it.

——————————————————————————————————

Mal: same way Ana Kuhn got me to stop begging her to keep a lantern lit at night.

Alina: really?

Mal: yes. told me I had to be brave for you, that if I was scared, you’d be scared.

Alina: well she told me I had to eat my parsnips to set a good example for you, but I still refused to do it.

Mal: and you wonder why you were always getting the switch.

Alina: I have principles.

Mal: that means, ‘if I can be difficult, I will.’

——————————————————————————————————

Zoya: if you’re not up here before I count it ten, I’m going back to sleep and you can carry me to Dva Stolba.

Alina: Mal, if I murder her in the Sikurzoi, will you hold me accountable?

Mal: yes.

Mal: that means, ‘‘let’s make it look like an accident.’

——————————————————————————————————

Alina: *being mad and realistic then apologizing*

Zoya: maybe you’re hungry. I always get mean when I’m hungry.

Harshaw: are you hungry all the time?

Zoya: you haven’t seen me mean. when you do, you’ll require a very big hanky.

Harshaw: to dry my tears.

Zoya: to stanch the bleeding.

——————————————————————————————————

Toyla: he watches her the way Harshaw watches fire. like he’ll never have enough of her. like he’s trying to capture what he can before she’s gone.

Zoya and Alina: 👁👄👁💓

Zoya: you know, if you turned a bit of that poetry on me, I might consider giving you a chance.

Toyla: who says I want one?

Harshaw: I want one!

Zoya: Oncat has a better chance than you.

Harshaw: *holds up Oncat* why, Oncat, you rogue.

——————————————————————————————————

Zoya: you really didn’t think they were ghosts, did you?

everyone: 😬

Zoya: I am surrounded by fools.

——————————————————————————————————

Harshaw: Oncat objects to the landscaping.

——————————————————————————————————

Alina: Mal is the third amplifier.

——————————————————————————————————

[TW: hanging]

{the oak I’d once climbed on a dare still stood, untouched by the fire that had taken Keramzin. now it’s branches were full of bodies. the three Grisha instructors hung from the same thick limb, their kefta fluttering slightly in the wind- purple, red and blue. beside them, Botkin’s face was nearly black above the rope that had dug into his neck. he was covered in wounds. he’d died fighting before they’d strung him up. next to him, Ana Kuya swayed in her black dress, her heavy rings at her waist, the toes of her button boots nearly scraping the ground.}

Darkling: she was, I think, the closest thing you had to a mother.

——————————————————————————————————

(unfinished)

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