#absolutely loving them you managed to pack so much character into every single one

[canisalbus]

HIII I’m a little shy and very nervous to show this arts BUT I LOVE YOUR CHARACTERS SMMM they’re my current hyperfixation 🤧🤧

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[ssuperficialspacecadett]

i kinda wanna see the triple frontier boys and reader do the “lala” or “okok” challenge from the song see you again by tyler the creator and kali uchis. i’d like to see your interpretation on who’s who and their relationship dynamics.

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Melodic Friendships - Through the Scope Drabble

Rating: everyone ?? (im just having a fun time with this hehe)

Word Count: 2.3K

Notes (more at the end as well): i received this ask maybe two weeks ago and have been meaning to tackle it ! i saw this trend on tik tok back when it was really popular and it seemed like such a fun idea to characterize the TF boys and Estrella using it ! i will preface this post by saying that while i was trying to nail down what the exact definitions for what 'lala' and 'okok' were so i could correctly apply them to our boys,,,i found that each person had their own take/idea/meaning for it. so in the case of this little project i will be defining each term like so ...

'lala' characters (to me): people who are more extroverted, cheerful, talkative, carefree for the most part, and easy to get a long with

'okok' characters (to me): people who are more introverted, a listener, a planner, and easy to be around

*this is also going to be an unedited/stream of consciousness/off the top of my head kinda vibe so i'm sure there will be grammatical errors and i apologize for that now*

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Benny Miller - lala

There was once a time where Benny thought that nothing could compare to being out in the field with his brother and two best friends. He loved the feeling of holding a gun in his hands, the feeling of never knowing what was around the next corner, and constantly knowing that his men had his back. There were some draw backs...okay a lot of draw backs. There was always the fear of his finger getting trigger shy, that what was around the corner could be to much to handle, and coming home one man short. Even so, he didn't think he could love anything more. That was until he opened up Brass Knuckles. And then, he found, his love grew even more when you came to work with him.

You kept up with him in everything he did. Honestly, you did more than keep up with him. If he had cleaned three workout benches, you had already cleaned the last four and were on your way to start another task. If he asked if the water was stocked in the mini fridge, you would roll your chair back with a grin and reveal a full fridge and sneak in a comment about how you 'picked up an extra pack from the store yesterday after work'. Everything was a competition, but it was all in fun. It was so refreshing to not be the youngest anymore. Not that he ever let it stop him. He was the youngest in his academy graduating class, but you better believe he snagged that number one spot. Will had told him once he was 'a one in a million talent' and he wanted to prove it every single day.

The two of you could talk for hours about absolutely nothing and never get bored. He wasn't even sure if either of you ever took a breath the entire time too. It was always go go go with yall. He could always count on you to act as a spring board for new ideas he was concocting for the gym. If his own ideas fell flat, you were there to air them back up with imaginative creations of your own. The pair of yall were a fucking powerhouse. It extended far past the gym too.

Whenever he managed to bully you into having a night with the guys down at The Barrel, neither one of you were quiet the entire time. It was like you were feeding off of each other like batteries that never lost their charge. The other guys would look around try to get a word in, but both of you had already moved onto greener topics. The others could only laugh and look at yall with intense amazement because who knew there was another person alive who could go toe to toe with Benny's mind. As cheesy as it sounds, you made him feel like he got his spark back. He didn't even realize he had lost it to being so wrapped up in life until you showed up either. You were his platonic other half.

***

Will Miller: okok

Will liked to be around people. However, he was picky about who he was around. He guessed that's why he didn't have many, if any, friends outside his group. They were all that he needed. He knew he would never be pestered for being on the quiet side or mocked because he was a little particular about the way he liked things. He was happy for Benny when he hired you. Lord only knows how much help his brother needed running that place. Of course he helped out whenever and however he could, but he had a job of his own.

He was wary about meeting you, he wasn't going to lie. Sure he would treat you with respect regardless, but for all he knew, you were just another employee. Nothing more and nothing less. However, he was taken aback at how naturally you bantered with Pope. When it came time for him to introduce himself to you, you didn't let him down either. You had a bright smile and a firm handshake. Not that he would call himself old fashioned, but he regarded people who had a solid handshake quite high. If he only knew that your grip would capture his heart as well.

You had been convinced to join all them out at The Barrel one Tuesday evening. He was already waiting with Pope at their usual table when you and Benny arrived after closing duties. Frankie would be running late due to his NA meeting, but that wasn't his truth to deliver to you. He watched you walk towards them with that beaming grin on your face. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one in the bar that noticed. Men turned their heads and stared at you as you plopped yourself down to his right. He felt his chest swell with pride as you reached over and hugged him so lovingly. He wasn't much of a physical touch enthusiast, but you somehow made it seem bearable. For you, he was more than willing to make an exception.

When you realized you had left your wallet at the gym, you were insistent that you went back to get it. You said 'just because I'm a lady doesn't mean yall have to buy me drinks all the time. Maybe I want to buy yall drinks sometimes and I can't do that if I don't have my card'. He pushed away from the table just as you did and gave you a look that meant 'you are more than welcome to go, but you're crazy if you think you're going alone'. He listened peacefully as you pointed out constellations to him in the sky. You looked so pleased with yourself that he didn't have the heart to tell you that he already knew where each one was and how to navigate by using them. He just liked hearing you talk.

On the way back he found himself on the opposite end of the conversation. You had managed to get him to tell you about his job and what it entails. It felt so natural to talk with you by his side. Usually he is the one with a quippy one liner or words of caution, but with you, someone who used to be a stranger, he is comfortable enough to really talk. You pull him out of his shell and make him want to shed the armor he had built up around himself. It felt safe to do that with you.

***

Santiago Garcia: lala

He was smooth. Santi knew he was smooth. He had the body count to prove it and everyone around him knew it. He had never felt so challenged by a woman in his life. Usually they all turned to putty in his hands when he spoke, but you held tough. You were Fish's girl (even if he hadn't officially asked you yet) and he was so excited to see where it went. Yet, that didn't stop him from loving to push your buttons. He knew you could take it. The first moment he met you he knew. What did you say to him exactly? 'Kissing and telling wouldn’t be a good way to end my first day, don't ‘cha think?' God, that was a good line and he would have to put it in his back pocket to use for later. From that day on, the two of you were constantly trying to out wit the other.

Yall were once in the middle of a particularly devious match while grocery shopping together. He had lost at a five way game of rock, paper, scissors to see who had to buy the beer for a hangout. He was pretty pissed about it and it didn't get any better when he heard you volunteer to go with him just to rub in your victory the whole time. He was moping around the beer isle when he saw her. A beautiful woman maybe 10 years younger than him. Unfortunately, you saw her too. 'You couldn't keep up with her if you tried, old man' , 'funny, that's the same thing I told Fish when he said he liked you'. He had to pretend to look at the contents on the shelf to keep himself from laughing at your shocked face. Sure he could joke around with the other guys and they would always joke back, but there was something about your spirit that just matched his so well. Benny was a close second.

However, the one thing he loved more than ganging up on you was when the two of you would gang up on everyone else. 'The entry fee for the table is one shot' you told Fish one night when he showed up late one Tuesday evening. He saw the twinkle in your eye and knew exactly what to do. 'We all did it, man. Now it's your turn'. Will looked like he was about to object, but stopped when he noticed you placing your hand over his. You just had a way with all of them.

He found himself anxiously awaiting each time the two of you would meet so he could pick on you. He felt younger when you were around him. He felt just as spry as he did before his knee and neck surgeries. The weight of his years in the service had started to get unbearably heavy on his shoulders. Little did he know, all he needed was to see you throw back your head in laughter because of something he said to ease his pain.

***

Frankie Morales: okok

Frankie loved watching you. He knew that probably sounded creepy to say out loud, so he kept it to himself. He thought that there was a lot that you could learn about the inner workings of a person just by watching them in their day to day lives. When you called him that your car broke down he went through so many emotions and happiness may or may not have been one of them. After everything was squared away at the shop, he realized he didn't want to let you go. So he bucked up the courage and asked you to breakfast.

You allowed him to chose the spot since he was a local and he settled on a hole-in-the-wall diner. He peaked over his own menu to see you smiling and looking over each and every item the restaurant served. He couldn't help but smile when he would catch you mouthing the description of the food to yourself. Frankie didn't even mind that it took you forever to order either. That just meant that he gets to spend more time in your presence. When yalls plates were brought out he saw you sneaking glances at what was in front of him. He wanted to ask you if you wanted a bite, but did that seem to relationshipy?? After you excused yourself to go to the restroom, he cut a piece of his meal off and set it on your plate. He would have given you his entire breakfast if he knew how bright you were going to light up when you came back and saw what he did.

When breakfast was finished, it was you that suggested that the two of yall do something else. He willingly let you drag him into a bath and body works store. At first he was a bit apprehensive, but you guided him over to the mens section. 'I'll break you just like I broke Benny' , "You'll break me? That sounds like a threat' , 'Just smell the candle, Frankie'. He lost track of how many candles he smelled by the time you were checking out. At this point he wasn't sure if it was the perfumes or you that were clouding his brain and making him feel all warm and fuzzy. 'I noticed you liked this one a lot' you told him producing a three wicked candle 'I wanted to get it for you as a thank you gift for helping me today'. He wondered if you saw his heart jump into his throat.

Although his favorite time to watch you was when you were asleep. He never dreamed in a million years that he would be luck enough to have someone as beautiful and kind as you lay in bed next to him. Your body was huddled up as close as could be to his. Your face was smooshed up against his bicep and he could feel your gentle breathing tickling his skin. He brushed a hair that falls in your face away and cursed at it for threatening to wake you up.

Frankie felt differently in the way that he carries himself since he has met you. Honestly, he had seen a change in each and every one of the guys. He felt like he was coming back to life again.

***

Reader/Estrella- lala

I feel like it is fairly obvious that Estrella is 'lala'. I didn't want to write a specific one for her as she is featured in each of the boy's character descriptions and can be seen displaying 'lala' characteristics. I will say, what I love about her is her ability to so easily adapt to the people around her. Her overall personality doesn't change, but she is able to understand what Frankie, Santi, Will, and Benny all need from her. Estrella can bring Will and Frankie (okok) out of the prisons of their minds and mess around on the same caliber as Santi and Benny (lala). She is talker while also being quite the listener. She knows when one is needed and can let the other take a back seat. Estrella loves these boys more than she ever thought she would and I can't wait to see how she spends the rest of her time in Florida with them.

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Notes: Hello to noonie and everyone else who made it to the end of my little brain dump ! I loved this ask so so much and again im sorry it took me so long to complete ! I hope this sufficiently answers your ask ((: thank you again for submitting it to me <3

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[terapsina]

Ask Game: hizzie (#1, 6, 10) hope mikaelson & lizzie saltzman (#8, 9, 10, 16, 17)

(from this ask game I made)

Hizzie:

1. ...about my absolute favorite of their scenes and why I love it so much.

"I hate this. I hate how many good memories I have of you. I hate that I have to be the one to do this, because no one else will. But most of all… I hate you. For being my friend, and for being apart of my weird messed up family and for making me love you, Hope Mikaelson."

Okay, so they have SO MANY great scenes to choose from and I think I'm obsessed with every single one but it's just hard to beat a '10 Things I Hate About You' love confession okay?

Also I love what it SAYS about them. Okay, so see, textually Hope is Lizzie's hero. But subtextually I'd argue that Lizzie is actually Hope's knight in shining armor. Lizzie is the one who saves her from a breakdown in the middle of the dance. Lizzie's the one who remembers her and makes her less alone. Lizzie's the one who pulls her out of the monochrome 50's noir movie. And Lizzie's the one who goes after her when she's lost her way. The one who tries to bring her back with - and let me repeat myself here - WITH A LOVE CONFESSION.

And yeah, that last one doesn't work. Except that I'm pretty sure that it nearly does. Which is WHY Hope snaps her neck. I think Lizzie nearly managed to touch her, and Hope felt it, and this made Lizzie a threat. The kind of threat that Josie and Rebekah hadn't been. And that, my friends, I find fascinating.

6. ...what kind of AU fics I'm obsessed with reading about them (or would be if I could find one).

I largely prefer Canon Universe fics that go off script because of an alteration here or there; a what if that led them down here instead of there. But... I guess I would really love to read a Slayer Lizzie/Turned Slayer Hope fic? Idk I just think that might be a fascinating way to explore them.

10....rate the level of stupid they reach in their pining.

Oh. So. VERY. Stupid.

So clearly Lizzie reaches the light first. But BEFORE that she comes up with a list for the Perfect Love she wants and describes Hope. She tries to matchmake Hope so hard it's like she's confessing that she's in love with Hope to the guy she's trying to matchmake Hope with.

Meanwhile Hope? Somehow totally seems to miss multiple love confessions, or to snag across what it mans that Lizzie was sired to her (okay, so I partially blame the very terrible Vampire 101 at that school but you'd think that in a family of... *does math*... 6-ish vampires it might have come up?). And she does catch that Josie used to have a crush on her but completely MISSES the implication that she thought her sister would have made a move too?

Also, Hope wrote herself into Lizzie's fanfic as a kid. And yet doesn't notice how maybe. Crushing might have mayhaps been happening?

Dum-dums want gum-gums level of dumb, okay? Dear evil gods but I love them so much.

-

Hope Mikaelson:

8. ...a headcanon I have about this character.

She wasn't supposed to be able to turn her humanity off as an Original of her line, so she did it by force, which is why there seemed to be this split in her personality that's never been a thing for any other vampire we've been shown turning their feelings off.

Like, Hope pushed all her feelings deep inside and slammed the wall down and cut herself in half. Which is why in my perfect season 5 (💔) she would have had to accept the No Humanity side of herself and reintegrate it back into the larger whole of Hope Andrea Mikaelson.

9. ...which of their relationships I would have cultivated more if it were up to me (both romantic and platonic).

Well, I know she's dead but I would have brought up Hayley in relation to Hope more. She did have a mom she lost, not just a dad.

Also I would have added a lot more off-screen contact between her and the family she STILL HAS. The Mikaelsons aren't DEAD. She's got aunts and uncles and one brother/uncle, and her mother's pack, and the New Orleans coven of witches.

Also, I think I'd have liked to minimize the amount of scenes Hope had with Alaric. Cuz like nine times of ten they just made me vaguely uncomfortable.

Probably would also have had Hope hanging out with every other person in school, because it did feel like Landon was monopolizing ALL her screentime for like two out of four seasons.

10. ...if I liked them immediately or if took a while before I warmed up to their character. Alternatively, if I disliked them immediately or if they lost my trust as their story progressed.

Oh I absolutely loved Hope from the beginning. Though it took me a while to really understand what made her click, because I've only watched her scenes from The Originals and not the entire show that probably gives a more fully fleshed out background.

But yeah I liked Hope from the beginning, and by the end? I utterly adored her.

16. ...my very shallowest of opinions on this character.

Girl. Pretty.

17. ...how well they'd do if they got dropped in a horror movie.

Oh, there's only two options here. Either she gets dropped there and this is NO LONGER A HORROR STORY because she beats the killer as soon as they attack. Or otherwise, she kills the killer as soon as she gets dropped there and becomes the monster of the horror movie herself (if we're talking about the No Humanity!Hope).

-

Lizzie Saltzman:

8. ...a headcanon I have about this character.

She was always going to become a heretic whatever else took place. It was always part of her plan B, and not even one she was really dreading. She might not have been ready when what's-his-face tried to turn her by force, but a part of her knew she'd choose to turn eventually. Which is both why she drank blood as insurance and why I think it was so easy for Lizzie to forgive Hope her turning.

Also. I think a part of why Lizzie went on so long being oblivious about her feelings for Hope was because after Josie finally told them about her old crush, Lizzie didn't want to be a person who would move in on her twin's potentially still existing crush (which I actually don't think Lizzie needed to worry about, by that point in their lives it didn't actually look like Josie had any more romantic feelings for Hope at all).

9. ...which of their relationships I would have cultivated more if it were up to me (both romantic and platonic).

I think Lizzie needed a really safe and utterly platonic friend (Hope doesn’t count because she had feelings for her (fight me on this, I dare you), and MG didn't count because he never stopped having feelings for her). So I wish she'd had a lot more scenes with Kaleb.

10. ...if I liked them immediately or if took a while before I warmed up to their character. Alternatively, if I disliked them immediately or if they lost my trust as their story progressed.

You kidding? They were my favorite from pretty much the word go. Though... I guess the moment I went full ride-or-die for her was during the Genie wish!verse episode.

16. ...my very shallowest of opinions on this character.

GIRL. PRETTY.

17. ...how well they'd do if they got dropped in a horror movie.

A bit touch and go in the beginning because she'd panic. But she's definitely a Final Girl if I've ever seen one, so once the panic waned she'd just be really, really mad.

[princesscolumbia]

Deviation - Chapter 8 - princesscolumbia - My Little Pony Generation 4: Equestria Girls (Cartoon 2013) [Archive of Our Own]

I continue to write fics that I want to see in the world, and they continue to wind up tackling pretty big issues and putting the characters through hell.

Yay! 😭

Short (yes, this is the short one) preview below the fold, follow the link above for the full chapter, alt link to the FiMFiction version after the preview:

Sunset had experienced many a morning after while serving as the Beloved Student of Princess Celestia, but it was never a welcome or pleasant thing. Verbal sparring while all the competitors were imbibing increasingly toxic levels of alcohol, getting into an argument with the princess (sometimes under their breaths, sometimes loud enough to be heard in Ponyville), then returning to her quarters angry and bitter did not make for a good following morning, no matter how gentle a hungover Celestia had tried to make it by raising the sun as slow as possible.

Waking up in a massive cuddle pile with her new pack-mates, however, was so wonderful, so revitalizing to her soul that she would gladly have dealt with every single one of her many and myriad Alpha traits just to enjoy a morning like this every so often. There were at least two sources of sleepy purring beside herself, and she couldn’t tell which Alpha or omega it was.

It hadn’t been without hiccups; partway through the night, she wasn’t exactly sure when, nearly the whole pack had been woken up by Rainbow Dash’s absolutely terrifying snore. A half-asleep Applejack curled around the omega, pinning her on her side so she couldn’t roll on her back and repeat the sound, followed by Fluttershy scooting in closer and wrapping her arms around both of the other girls. Rarity, Pinkie, and Sunset managed to nod off again after about a quarter-hour, Rainbow hadn’t woken for any of it.

As much as Sunset wanted to stay comfortably embedded in the warmth and comfort of her friend’s sleeping bodies, the demands of her bladder would not be denied now that her body was rousing properly. She began shifting limbs and Rarity rolled gently off the bed, the beta girl apparently also awake. They helped each other out of the bed and took turns using the en-suite bathroom before tiptoeing out of the room and closing the door quietly.

They made their way to the kitchen and found Celestia already pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Good morning, girls,” she said brightly, “Do you drink coffee, Rarity?” Celestia was already pouring Sunset a cup.

“Oh, that would be lovely, I am normally an absolute harridan before caffeine.”

Celestia chuckled, passing Sunset her mug and pulling another down in almost one smooth motion, “Luna is the same way, so we definitely keep plenty of coffee in the house. Milk or sugar?” she added as she poured.

“Yes, please, to both.” Rarity glanced curiously at Sunset, who was already sipping down her very much black coffee.

Sunset shrugged, “Lotta late nights preparing for finals at CSGU, I got used to taking it black ‘cause I was too impatient to trudge down to the palace kitchens for some milk. ‘sides, the royal chefs would have probably ambushed me and tried to make my coffee ‘gourmet’,” she intentionally mispronounced the Prench word as ‘goor-mett’, “And, frankly, I was too damn tired to wait 20 minutes for them to make me a damn cup of jo.” She took another pull at her coffee and stopped mid-sip, eyes shifting worriedly from Rarity over to Celestia. She swallowed and lowered her mug, “Ah…” She found herself at a loss, her brain catching up to the fact that she just revealed she’d spilled a pack secret against Celestia’s orders.

Celestia just grinned as she passed the requested beverage additives to Rarity, “This is as good a time as any to let you know the walls aren’t exactly soundproofed here. Luna and I could hear pretty much everything.”

Both Sunset and Rarity blushed, though the latter also tittered nervously. “Oh, um…I do hope…that is to say…”

Celestia smiled at the beta as she turned to the fridge, only barely paying attention to actions that were so habitual she performed them without conscious thought, “Don’t forget, I was the one who authored the bill in the National Alpha Council to destigmatize betas being full members of packs.”

Any response Rarity may have made was interrupted by Sunset nearly choking on her coffee. Celestia paused in her breakfast routine to make sure her daughter-in-all-but-name-and-saying-it-out-loud was okay. Rarity rubbed and lightly patted Sunset’s back with the hand not holding her mug.

Finally getting her physical reactions under control, Sunset put her mug down and wiped the back of her hand against her bottom lip to catch the little coffee that escaped while she coughed. “Two things,” she said croakily, “First, why would a beta not be allowed in a pack? Isn’t the whole job of an Alpha to guard the pack? If that doesn’t include betas it’d just be the few Alpha’s they get along with and their omegas…pretty small pack, really.” Celestia noticed Rarity start to practically glow at Sunset’s apparent shock regarding anti-beta prejudice but said nothing, knowing the girl would wave it off anyway. “Second,” Sunset continued, “And I say this having pretty much lived with your pony self nearly my whole life, you were in government?!”

Celestia noticed that Rarity seemed as caught off-guard as she was, “Why would that surprise you?” after the question, she finished fishing out her eggs from the fridge and grabbed a loaf of bread, carting them to the counter to make herself food. “Oh, and did you girls want anything? I’m mostly an eggs and toast girl, myself.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose…” tempered Rarity, “But I could go for a bagel, if you have one. If not, toast will do nicely, thank you.”

“Cel…goddess, I miss hay-bagels,” muttered Sunset under her breath. Celestia made a mental note to ask later what name the girl kept starting to say before switching to the more generic ‘goddess.’ “I’ll have eggs and toast, too. Oatmeal just doesn’t do it for me since I got here. …stupid predator’s body…” she groused, “And what I mean is this country doesn’t have a noble class, it was one of the first things I looked for when I found the library, I was trying to find out which family lines I needed to…ah,” she glanced sheepishly at Rarity, probably trying to guage how to explain her strategy of more or less schmoozing up to the right people to get what she wanted, “’Butter up’ to. How were you in the government if you aren’t appointed by a royal house or decree?”

“Oh, that’s…goodness, I hadn’t considered that.” Rarity trailed off and looked to Celestia with the request for help written all over her face.

Celestia happily broke out her metaphorical educator’s hat as she started preparing food for the three of them, “We actually were a collective of colonies of the crown before the War for Independence,” she began, “The first Colonial Alpha Counsel declared independence after the European powers kept trying to tax the colonies like crazy to fund their wars. There’s…a lot about that you won’t know about, it’s covered in 3rd-grade social studies, which you missed.” She winked at Sunset playfully as she set about cutting Rarity’s bagel for the toaster, “I’ll talk to Nagatha about some coursework to get you caught up on US history.”

Sunset’s head tilted in confusion at that, “’Yeoo-Ess,’” she said, somehow making two letters sound like a foreign word.

“Short for ‘United Sovereign Packlands, the U.S.P., or just ‘US’ for short.” Sunset gave a comprehending, silent ‘ah’ as she sipped her coffee. “The same group of Alphas who just bucked off a High Alpha didn’t want to submit to anyone else, either, plus the betas and omegas who fought alongside the Alphas didn’t want the old feudal system to continue, some of them had finally started building little business empires and they didn’t want an Alpha coming in to claim it, so they came up with a representative system. It’s full of compromises that have had to be amended over the last couple centuries and we have a long way to go before we get real equality, which is a partial answer to your question about betas. Historically, they’ve been marginalized due to Alphas constantly fighting over the top spots in a pack, even after nations got large enough that the old pack structure just started looking like tyranny. The Holocaust War was about betas trying to exterminate Alphas and omegas using eugenics and…other methods,” Sunset noticed Rarity grimacing at this, “Which only served to set back equal rights measures for betas by centuries.”

Sunset’s brow pinched together, “Oh…I get it. Back home we had a history of the pony races being very divided. Unicorns considered themselves superior so set things up so they’d be in charge and have all the power, the pegasi were basically a military state that liked to think they were better than any ground-bound pony, and the earth ponies got, well, kinda dumped on. The Hearth’s Warming story gets really dark the more you dig into it.”

“Hearth’s Warming?” interrupted Rarity, “What does the holiday have to do with how the races interacted?”

Sunset smiled, “I guess it would be pretty different here, since it’s not about the founding of the country…anyway, the three pony tribes used to fight all the time, but when you get down to it, the earth ponies were pretty much a slave class to the other two. They fled and then revolted when the unicorns and pegasi followed. If it weren’t for the windigoes giving them a reason to band together, they might have killed off pony-kind before Discord even got his chance a few years later.”

Celestia placed a plate in front of Sunset and Rarity, “That’s actually fairly similar to our own Hearth’s Warming origin; the Alphas, betas, and omegas were at war, then a plague hit and they had to stop fighting. A sage from each group each wound up contributing to find a cure.”

Sunset’s stomach growled at the sight of eggs and toast on her plate. As she grabbed the fork Celestia provided she chuckled, “I’m guessing the story is *very *romanticized?”

Celestia put her plate down on the breakfast bar and decided to eat standing up, “Just as I’m guessing ponies owning each other as slaves isn’t mentioned in a holiday play?”

Sunset saluted Celestia with her fork and popped a bite into her mouth. The principal took that as a cue to continue her impromptu civics lesson, “The representative system was intended to give everyone a voice and make sure nobody could abuse power, so three branches of government were set up and a document was drafted to outline the rights, liberties, freedoms, responsibilities, etcetera. The president is the Chief Executive…”

Sunset swallowed quickly, “Not ‘Alpha Supreme’ or something like that?”

Celestia chuckled, “Actually, Wheat Farmer wanted that title…”

Rarity gasped, “What?! A beta wanted to be called, ‘Alpha Supreme’?!”

The Pack Alpha chuckled, “Yes, there’s a lot that gets left out of the curriculum, there’s just so much history to cover and we’ve only got you as a student for just so long.” She sipped her own coffee and continued, “The president can pass or veto laws, but can’t propose any and can’t declare war. The Supreme Court was intended to be a court where packs could have final arbitration, but it became a balance to the president and congress and between the federal government and the packs.”

“The third branch of government is where things get a little tricky. It was originally just supposed to be a single governmental body where legislators gathered to propose new laws and do the managing of things, but the Alphas got a little nervous that they were being stripped of their traditional leadership role, so the congressional body was split between the National Alpha Counsel and the Parliament. Parliament is pretty much whoever gets elected by popular vote in their districts, and there’s a set number of people represented by each representative, so the size of Parliament can grow or shrink depending on the census.”

The three had eaten their food by this point, the two teens fidgeting with their mugs. Sunset was paying close attention, her voracious mind consuming the new knowledge as Rarity paid the attention of an interested student who’d heard it all before. Celestia took the last sip of her coffee, “Technically, all pack alphas are members of the Alpha Counsel, though that’s mostly on the state level.”

“Is a state like a province?” asked Sunset.

Celestia thought about this for a moment and nodded, “The first states were those original colonies I mentioned. Since they started out as colonies of different political powers in Europe, they all had different political affiliations and cultures and weren’t really interested in blending those, so they kept separate states, which have pack-lands that can cover counties or cities or even open wildlands. By the time the USP had been around for a century, the country had become a collective whole, even if there are enough differences from state to state that you can tell if you know the cultures of each state.”

She began stacking her dishes, which prompted the girls to do the same. As she took hers to the sink, she finished up her unexpected Saturday morning lecture, “Each Alpha takes a turn serving on their local Alpha Counsel, which elects an Alpha from their number to represent the local counsel on the state level, who then elects someone to represent the state on the federal level.” She took the plates from the girls as Sunset grabbed the coffee pot to refill her mug, and Rarity offered hers for a refill as well. She looked up to Celestia, who nodded and gestured to her mug with her head and shoulders on the counter, wordlessly confirming she wanted more, too. “Put on a new pot for Luna, please,” she said in quick aside. “A few years ago I finished up my time in the National Alpha Counsel.” Her face puckered in remembered frustration, “I don’t think I’d ever do that again. Your princess has my respect for running a federal-level shit-show. I can’t imagine having to do that day after day for…” she shuddered, “Centuries.”

Read the whole thing at FiMFiction.net or AO3.

[redvexillum]

At this point - I'm just loving every single one of your Kinktober so far. I'm enjoying them wayyyyy too much, gotta show my love the only way I know how. WORD VOMIT.

The way Lucifer, of all beings, brings this utterly innocent, angelic character into his world of soft, dangerous desire? I am floored, I am obsessed, I am FALLING IN LOVE alongside them. 😭🔥

First off, the setting. Pride manor, glowing bright in Hell as Lucifer’s own personal sliver of heaven, and you, standing there with wings trembling behind you—it's all so deliciously symbolic! Lucifer, with his hesitant sweetness and self-doubt, contrasted with the power and allure of being Hell's king… and YOU, choosing to be with him over the hollow paradise above. It’s this perfect forbidden love trope, and you can feel every ounce of risk and devotion packed into each glance and whispered word. ✨

And THE TENSION. It builds so beautifully, like… slowly! Lucifer pacing, dropping his top hat in his disbelief that you could love him; him trying to convince you to go back because he’s terrified of what staying will do to you—and THEN you confessing that he’s the only real truth you've ever felt?! Screaming. 🥲💕

AND THEN WE GET TO THAT BEDROOM MOMENT. "Can you take me?" Oh my god, the nerve-wracking innocence and trembling vulnerability, and Lucifer’s confusion until he finally gets it—the way he realizes you want him, in every way, not just as an emotional comfort but to truly make you his in body and soul. And Lucifer, ever the gentleman, treating you with such reverence as he slips off your dress and holds you close, just GAH! It’s soft, it's sinful, and it's full of these raw emotions that just burst off the page. Every single touch, every tender word… it's as if he's cradling his own salvation in his arms.

And when Lucifer is on his knees before you, worshipping you in such utter awe, calling you beautiful and tasting you with that forked tongue? I am positively dead. 🥀 It’s this flawless, breathtakingly gentle and sinful scene that manages to hold such deep respect and devotion while still being dangerously seductive. Just the genuine, reverent love he holds for you is all-consuming, and it’s everything I could ever want in a forbidden, angel-devil romance. 🙏❤️

BRAVO for this absolutely intoxicating blend of innocence and sin—it’s angelic corruption at its finest, and I am obsessed! 🖤🔥

Praise Be Thy Tongue (Lucifer x Angel!Reader)

CW: oral, fem receiving, slight praise kink Rated: Adult Summary: After turning your back on Heaven in favor of the man you had fallen in love with, you present yourself to Lucifer asking that he show you the ways of pleasure…

Wings fluttered out behind you, the vibration of the stark white feathers a physical manifestation of your nerves as you stood timid in the bedchamber of the great Lucifer, King of Hell himself. It never stopped amazing you how bright Pride manor was, lit up as if all the bright lights could chase away the darkness of hell. It was the King’s slice of heavenly light, even if it was just an artificial imitation of what he once basked in. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Lucifer said, knuckles ghosting over your cheek. Such a kind, sweet soul he was. In all of your time in heaven, lifetimes of years spent bringing those judged to be sinners to their fate in hell, you had met no one as sweet as the very king of Hell himself. 

“Lucifer,” you whispered, locking eyes with the man, hardly taller than you. “It’s already done.” 

“No,” he stepped back, pacing. The top hat he wore like a crown fell to the ground, knocked from its perch as he ran his fingers through his brushed back blond hair, nails harshly scraping against his scalp. “They’ll take you back. I’ll call them, tell them it was a misunderstanding.” 

“No,” you whispered, fingers ghosting over his back. Tears fought forward for the first time since you had abandoned your post, returning to hell without a charge in toe. “They won’t. I made my choice.”

“But it’s hell,” Lucifer turned to you, wide, panic filled eyes pleading with you to take it all back. Could he see how he broke your heart at the moment or had his fear and panic for you left him blinded? “You belong up there.” 

“I belong with you,” you pressed forward, talking over him as his rushed protests tumbled from his lips. “Up there, that isn’t heaven. It’s a lie, Lucifer. A beautiful lie and it took falling in love with you for me to see it.” 

“Love?” Lucifer asked, eyes settling on you properly for the first time since you had told him what you had done, what you had given up. “You love me?” 

Fear coursed through you for the first time in hundreds of years. Never had you stopped for long enough to consider if Lucifer didn’t find your talks, the brushing of hands and stolen kisses shared between the two of you to be anything more than a way to pass the time while paperwork was put in order. The managing of souls created a great deal of paperwork. 

“I- I do.” You stood stone still except for the ruffling of your feathers as you awaited what Lucifer would say or do. “I’ve fallen in love with you, Lucifer.” 

“Truly?” he asked, turning to face you properly. 

“Truly,” you answered, voice a timid whisper. 

Leaning forward, he kissed you softly. It was a sweet kiss, tinged with bitter sadness over what loving him had cost you, but Lucifer couldn’t resist kissing you, anyway. You, who loved a man who fell, who was slandered by his father and brothers for hundreds of years. You loved him. 

It had been too long since he had even dared to hope that someone could love him. Lilith had left him, casting him aside. The king of hell had been terrified to even dream of love again. The realization that he was falling in love with the little messenger angel had terrified him. For his own sanity, he had to convince himself that to you he was nothing more but a slight rebellion. 

“I love you, too.” Lucifer wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to him. Though there was a part of his heart that cracked and shattered, the part that knew what loving him had cost you already, the rest of his heart swelled with such tenderness. 

“Lucifer,” you hesitated, looking away.

“What is it?” Lucifer asked, a soft smile spreading wide as he tries to think of something to chase the look on your face away. It was a look he couldn’t understand, something he hadn’t seen in your eyes before. “Do you want to go feed the hell ducks now that you’re not on a time crunch?” 

You laughed lightly, not losing sight of the nerves dancing in your stomach. 

“Can you,” you chewed your lip, closing your eyes as you gathered your courage. “Can you take me?” 

“Where? To the ducks?” Lucifer asked before nodding eagerly, taking your hand in his as he rambled on about the ducks that kept residency in his personal courtyard. 

“No,” you leaned into him more, waiting for his eyes to meet yours. When he continued rambling, you spoke over him again. “To bed. Luci, can you take me to bed?” 

“Oh!” Lucifer looked at you with wide eyes. “You’re right, of course. You must be tired. It’s not exactly a short trip-” 

“Lucifer,” you struggled not to snap, “That’s not what I’m saying.” 

“What are you-?”

“I want you to take me. In bed. I want you to-” 

“Oh.” Lucifer said, eyes going wide as he looked at you as if he had never once seen you before in his life. “You want to be taken… by me?”

“Yes.” Nerves ate at your stomach. “I’ve… I’ve got no reason left to remain pure.” 

“Pure?” He blinked one eye at you and then the other, mind struggling to keep up. “You’re a virgin?” 

“Of course,” you said, as if it was obvious. “All heaven-born are until we marry, if we marry.” 

“Right,” Lucifer said, not having the heart to break you from your delusion. He knew firsthand that the heaven-born were far from above getting freaky with one another. While he had been far from well versed in the creative ways of sexual pleasures before he fell, he himself wasn’t a virginal angel. 

“Please, Lucifer?” you leaned forward on your toes, hands coming up to rest higher on his chest. “I- I don’t want to wait. I know the experience will be good with you.” 

“Do you now?” Lucifer asked with a groan, hands hesitantly running along the silken white fabric of your dress. “What makes you think that?” 

Blood rushed to your face, coloring it with the brightest gold. “You’re… you’re you. You’re the devil. It was you that took from the first man twice.” 

Lucifer felt that shift in him, the little switch in his mind that he came to rely on too much to put the anxiety away flip. Each time you blinked those bright eyes at him, you had nudged that switch closer and closer, and now it thumped home. 

“You want to see how I tempted them?” His voice was different now, richer as his fingers flexed, digging into the fat of your hips. 

He kissed you as you opened your mouth to answer. The history of soft sweet kisses you had shared with him did nothing to prepare you for the way he kissed you now. He pulled your pelvis to him, pushing your body flush against his as you hesitantly ran your hands higher up his chest, ghosting them over his shoulders. 

“You will then?” you asked as his lips left yours, kissing along your jaw as he walked you back, somewhere in the grand room. 

“Of course,” he whispered in your ear, “I’d be honored. Hopefully, I live up to your expectations.”

“Oh,” a soft gasp slipped from your lips as he nipped at your ear. Uncertainty ran through you for a moment, lips giving voice to your worries before you had a chance to think about if it was the right thing to say at the moment. “I hope I can be good for you…”

“Oh my sweet,” Lucifer lifted you off your feet, stepping up onto the platform surrounded by drapes that his bed was housed on. He carried you easily, setting your feet on the thick carpets that covered the platform. “You will be so good for me. I know it already.” 

His tongue ran down the length of your neck, drawing a soft gasp from you as he pulled at the dress. Reaching behind you, he pulled at the strings that tied it together over your wings. Silken fabric fell loose around your torso, only to be sent to the ground by his soft hands. 

“You’re already making such sweet sounds for me.” Lucifer said as his hand traveled over the exposed skin. Like all the heaven-born, you wore nothing under your dress. There was no need for shame. The dress covered plenty anyway. 

Shrugging out of his vest, he drove you back until the back of your knees hit the side of his bed. “Sit,” Lucifer whispered as he toed off his boots. 

You did as he said, sitting naked on his bed timidly. In front of you, Lucifer sank to his knees. Gentle hands caressed down your calfs as he slipped the simple shoes from your feet, setting them aside. 

“You’re so pretty,” Lucifer said as he rose on his knees, soft hands running up and down the smooth skin of your legs. “I bet you taste divine.” 

“What?” it was a struggle to look at the man you loved, but every time your eyes darted over his face, you were met with nothing but adoration. 

“Spread your legs for me?” He licked his lips, forked tongue flicking through the air. You hesitantly did as he told you to, trembling legs parted by the guiding pressure of his hands. “Look at you,” Lucifer breathed between soft, reverent kisses placed on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, “so pretty. Father really mastered creation when he gave you form.” 

You didn’t know what to expect as Lucifer’s soft, teasing kisses pulled his face closer and closer to the one part of you none had ever seen before. He breathed your core, taking the heady scent of you, the way even without experience, your core responded to his teasing touch. His mouth watered at the scent of your sweet slick. 

The wet drag of his tongue over your folds caused your body to jump, a squeak leaving your throat. Not once had you considered he would taste you literally. Such an act was surely wrong. It was indecent. It had to be. It felt… sinful. 

“Lucifer?” Your questions died in your throat as his tongue repeated the action, passing through your folds with a soft pressure that had you drawing deeper breaths into your lungs. His hands, large and strong, wrapped around your thighs as he held them open. The pressure of your legs trying to close, trying to hide your center from him in shame did nothing but cause his fingers to dig slightly more into the muscle and fat of your thighs. 

“You taste as good as you look, fuck- as good as you smell.” he looked up at you with bright eyes, face tinged gold with a blush. Vermillion eyes looked up at you, such a dangerous color, and yet in it you saw nothing but love in them. 

“What?” Your voice trembled as he placed a soft kiss against your inner thigh. 

“Tell me,” He spoke between long passes of his tongue, splitting your folds and running over the sensitive bundle of nerves that headed your slit. “What feels good when I do it?”

“I can’t,” you whisper, voice breaking as he swirls his tongue around the nerves. 

“You can,” Lucifer said, delving into your folds with the hunger of a man starved. 

“Lu- Luci,” you gasped out, his mouth spreading to allow his tongue to work its way into you. Hips twitched, thighs flexing as he lazily drank from you. A swallow followed each swirl of his tongue deep in your virginal opened. “Oh.” 

He stopped, tongue stilling inside you as he waited. Lavender lidded eyes looked up at you as you struggled to force yourself to make your words work. “Good,” you finally squeaked out. 

As soon as the word left your lips, his tongue began moving again, slowly slipping from inside you to run around your folds. “Good girl,” He said between passes of his tongue. “You taste so good,” he moaned, hand running up the inside of your thigh.

Fingertips caressed where your thigh met your core, taking in the soft skin that none else had seen until now. “So soft,” he whispered as his tongue swirled around and around, pulling something inside you to life. 

“Luci,” you panted, not realizing you were going to say his name till it passed between your lips. 

“Yes,” he licked his lips, looking up at you. “Tell me. Please, tell me how I can make you feel good. What felt good?” 

“Your… your mouth,” you forced the words out. “It-” 

“When my tongue is inside?” Lucifer questioned, running his long thin tongue into your tight opening. Your back arched as his tongue curled and twisted inside of you before slipping out again. “Or around your clit?” Again, he ran his tongue over you to remind you of the sensation. 

“There!” you cried out as the forked tip of his tongue flicked over the sensitive nub. “That,” your fingers twitched on the mattress, hands unsure what to do as you leaned your weight back on them. “Oh, Lucifer,” you cried out as his lips wrapped around the bundle of nerves, sharp teeth pricking at you as his tongue swirled around the nub. 

He hummed, a long black whiplike tail unfurling behind him. Never had you seen his tail before, though you know the small devil had gained some traits in his banishment that the angelic did not have. Your breath came faster, the tempo matching the strokes of his tongue and the sway of his tail. 

Fingers ran higher, glancing over your folds as he sought your entrance. The pad of his index finger circled it, smearing the slick that was pouring from you. Your body tensed and relaxed under his hands, reacting with every stroke of his tongue. 

“More,” you whispered, not really knowing what you were needing more of. “Please?” 

“More of what?” Lucifer asked, eyes meeting yours. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful like this.” 

“More,” you wanted to cry with the inability to identify what it even was that you wanted. “Show me more?” 

“Alright,” Lucifer said, pushing his finger inside you. Leaning back, you nearly fell to the mattress as your hips tilted, giving him better access to what you had never even explored yourself. The sound that left your mouth as his tongue returned to your clit was one you had never made before. It was heady and lusty, needy. 

“You’re so tight,” Lucifer said, as your body clenched around his finger. 

“I’m sorry,” you said on reflex. 

“No,” Lucifer said, hand leaving your thigh as he worked his finger in and out of you. “You’re perfect,” he said. “I can’t wait to have you wrapped around me.” 

“Lucifer,” you whispered his name as he added a second finger, curling them within you as felt your body coil tighter and tighter. Muscles tensed as he pushed your body further and further. 

“You taste so good,” he mumbled into your core as his tongue worked over you. “So pretty. I could stay down here all night.” 

He worked his belt open, pushing the zipper down as he pulled his cock from where it felt like his pants were suffocating it. The relief drew a moan from his lips that vibrated over your sensitive nerves. 

“Have me desperate,” Luci said. “You’re too beautiful.” 

“Luci,” you moaned his name as he pushed you further and further toward the unknown edge. “Please,” 

“Taste so good,” he said, fingers squelching as he moved them in and out of you, spreading you wider. “You’re so good for me, letting me make you feel good. You’re going to be breathtaking when you cum, I just know it. You’re so close, Sweetheart. You’re gripping me so tight.” 

Lucifer’s hand wrapped around his cock, running up and down the length of his shaft as he worked his tongue over your clit. He sucked at you, air bubbling through the sloppy seal as he worked your body tighter. Deep moans spilled up his throat, vibrating against your clit.

Something snapped inside you. Your back arched and fingers flexed, nails digging into the silky bedspread. Every muscle in your body felt like it was going to rip itself apart as it convulsed. It felt like there was no room for his fingers inside you as your body clamped down on him. 

You cried out his name as your head fell back. Elbows gave out, sending you falling back onto the bed, though you didn’t feel it when you landed. You floated on a sea of pleasure as he continued working his fingers in and out of you. 

Lucifer pulled back, letting your clit fall from his mouth with a slight pop. Every muscle in your body jolted as he ran his tongue over your clit again and again, caressing it as your core fluttered under his soft ministrations. After pulling his fingers out of your core, he lapped at your folds, cleaning you of the slit that poured from you. 

“I knew it,” Lucifer said as he rose from his knees, cock in hand. “You came so pretty for me. You’re so beautiful like this, spread out on my bed. I’m going to make sure this look never leaves your face.” 

Lucifer climbed over you, wrapping an arm under the small of your back as he pulled you up the bed. As he climbed on the bed, spreading your legs with his knees, he kicked out of his pants. 

“I’m going to watch you cum so many times tonight,” Lucifer promised, as he nestled himself between your legs. “That all of heaven will hear your beautiful voice as you scream my name.” 

You had a long night of sinning ahead of you… 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers!

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Last Vampire on Earth (2010)

There’s nothing like a knockoff to make you appreciate the real thing. We’ve seen many Twilight imitators over the years and The Last Vampire on Earth is easily the worst one. This film only has two modes: utter boredom and unintentional, all-consuming, laugh-so-hard-you’ve-got-tears-coming-out-of-your-eyes unintentional hilarity.

While rehearsing for a play adaptation of Dracula, college student Chloe Parish (McKenzie Grimmett) begins hanging out with and becoming closer to Aurelius (Michael Bole), a classmate playing the titular role. While studying the legends of the vampire, she begins wondering if the man she’s falling for could be one.

The word “knockoff” isn’t exactly appropriate. I think the correct term this time is “plagiarism”. Entire scenes are lifted word-for-word from Stephenie Myers’ book. Yes, I'm saying "book" rather than the "movie adaptation". This film is so poorly made the effort to pop the DVD into a player and manually type all of the dialogue to ensure the correct punctuation must have been too much for writer Mandie Abraham. I know the credits SAY this film is based on the 104-page novel of the same name (published in 2010) but come on; it’s Twilight.

Where to begin? How about with the cast? I can’t remember the last time I saw someone less qualified to be a leading man than Michael Bole. He doesn’t lack charisma, he has anti-charisma. Constantly mumbling his lines without a drop of enthusiasm, he is never convincing as a human being, much less a 2,000+ year-old vampire. He and McKenzie Grimmett have no chemistry, whatsoever. You don’t need to see the one very brief, icy kiss - the one she seems to recoil from in disgust - to believe these two would never EVER fall in love. To be fair, you can’t blame her. I once heard the film described as “'Twilight' if they replaced Robert Pattinson with an ogre”. It’s cruel… but also fitting. Don’t think I’m letting the female lead off the hook. She’s clearly either a big fan of Twilight who got suckered into this project, or an amateur with absolutely no future in Hollywood. Either way, it’s painful to watch.

The picture is poorly shot. The special effects are at the level of a middle-school project hurriedly churned out over a single afternoon. A weird filter applied to every single frame makes the film look like it was shot through a cardboard tube and the effect isn’t even centered most of the time. Then there are small details which pass by so quickly you might miss them (no thanks to the lack of subtitles). When Chloe learns Aurelius has been alive for two millennia, she asks him if he met Jesus. Of course, he says yes, Because no shitty movie about immortals is complete without the revelation that they were present for every single big event in human history. The pasty lunk replies that yeah he met Jesus, and that he was a pretty cool guy. So wait, it’s a vampire movie in which Jesus lived… and the vampire isn’t affected by crucifixes?

The writing is on a level so low even film enthusiasts who see everything are unlikely to have encountered anything like it before. It’s no secret that Twilight was heavily influenced by Stephenie Meyer’s Mormon faith. At first glance, this film’s not-Bella being a Jehovah’s witness doesn’t seem out of place. It even seems a little clever, as the Witnesses do not believe in blood transfusions. But then, you see the characters go to a church and it becomes clear this is simply window-dressing riddled with mistakes. What did you expect? The film can’t even manage to give its vampire pointed teeth. Doing something like basic research would be just way too hard.

Even within its own logic and mythology, The Last Vampire on Earth is packed thick with mistakes, illogical choices and actions which make no sense. There is nothing, NOTHING this film manages to get right, not even the DVD menu, which doesn’t even include an option to jump to a scene. Closing your eyes while The Last Vampire on Earth is playing is a sweet, sweet relief so there's a chance it may put you to sleep. To watch it, you’ll need to strain your ears so you can hear what the characters are saying. It’s shockingly bad but sprung unto an unsuspecting audience, it can be a riot. There are so many aspects of this picture to pick apart and the effort involved in the project so fruitless you can have a good time with what is undoubtedly one of the worst productions I’ve ever seen. (On DVD, November 30, 2018)

[c-is-for-circinate]

For a long, large part of my life, being queer in a media landscape--finding queerness in a media landscape--has meant theft.

I'm a Fandom Old, somehow, these days, older than most and younger than some, in that way that's grown associated with grumpy crotchetyness and shotguns on porches and back in my day, we had to wade through our Yahoo Groups mailing lists uphill both ways, boring and irrelevant anecdotes from Back In Those Days when homophobia clearly worked differently than it does now, probably because we weren't trying hard enough. I've seen a lot of stories through the years. I've read a lot of fanfic. (More days than not, for the past twenty years. I've read a lot of fanfic.)

When people my age start groaning and sighing at conversations about representation and queerbaiting, when we roll our eyes and drag all the old war stories out again in the face of AO3 is terrible and Not Good Enough, so often what we say is: you Young Folks Today have no idea how hard, how scary, how limiting it was to be queer anywhere Back In Those Days. Including online, maybe especially online, including in a media landscape that hated us so much more than any one you've ever known. And that is true. Always and everywhere, again and again, it's true, we remember, it's true.

We don't talk so much about the joy of it.

Online fan spaces were my very first queer communities, ever. I was thirteen, I was fourteen, I was fifteen--I was a lonely, over-precocious "gifted kid" two years too young for my grade level in an all-girls' Catholic school in the suburbs--I lived in a world where gay people were a rumor and an insult and a news story about murder. I was straight, of course, obviously, because real people were straight and anyway I was weird enough already--I couldn't be two things strange, couldn't be gay too, but--well, I could read the stories. I could feel things about that. I would have those stories to help me, a few years later, when I knew I couldn't call myself straight any more.

And those stories were theft. There was never any doubt about that. We wrote disclaimers at the top of every fic, with the specter of Anne Rice's lawyers around every corner. We hid in back-corners of the internet, places you could only find through a link from a link from a link on somebody else's recs page, being grateful for the tiny single-fandom archives when you found them, grateful for the webrings where they existed. It was theft, all of it, the stories about characters we did not own, the videotaped episodes on your best friend's VHS player, one single episode pulled off of Limewire over the course of three days.

It was theft, we knew, to even try and find ourselves in these stories to begin with. How many fics did I read in those days about two men who'd always been straight, except for each other, in this one case, when love was stronger than sexual orientation? We stole our characters away from the heterosexual lives they were destined to have. We stole them away from writers and producers and TV networks who work overtime to shower them in Babes of the Week, to pretend that queerness was never even an option. This wasn't given to us. This wasn't meant for us. This wasn't ours to have, ever, ever in the first place. But we took it anyway.

And oh, my friends, it was glorious.

We took it. We stole. And again and again, for years and years and years, we turned that theft into an art. We looked for every opening, every crack in every sidewalk where a little sprout of queerness might grow, and we claimed it for our own and we grew whole gardens. We grew so sly and so skilled with it, learning to spot the hints of oh, this could be slashy in every new show and movie to come our way. Do you see how they left these character dynamics here, unattended on the table? How ripe they are for the pocketing. Here, I'll help you carry them. We'll make off with these so-called straight boys, and we only have to look back if somebody sets out another scene we want for our own.

We were thieves, all of us, and that was fine and that was fair, because to exist as queer in the world was theft to begin with. Stolen time, stolen moments--grand larceny of the institution of marriage, breaking and entering to rob my mother's hopes for grandchildren. Every shoplifted glance at the wrong person in the locker room (and it didn't matter if we never peeked, never dared, they called us out on it anyway). Every character in every fic whose queerness became a crime against this ex-wife, that new love interest. Every time we dared steal ourselves away from the good straight partners we didn't want to date.

And: we built ourselves a den, we thieves, wallpapered in stolen images and filled to the brim with all the words we'd written ourselves. We built ourselves a home, and we filled it with joy. Every vid and art and fic, every ship, every squee. Over and over, every straight boy protagonist who abandoned all womankind for just this one exception with his straight boy protagonist partner found gay orgasms and true love at the end.

Over and over, we said: this isn't ours, this isn't meant to be ours, you did not give this to us--but we are taking it anyway. We will burglarize you for building blocks and build ourselves a palace. These stories and this place in the world is not for us, but we exist, and you can't stop us. It's ours now, full of color and noise, a thousand peoples' ideas mosaic'ed together in celebration. We made this, and it will never be just yours again. You won't ever truly get it back, no matter how many lawyers you send, not completely. We keep what we steal.

.

Things shifted over time, of course. That's good. That's to be celebrated. Nobody should have to steal to survive. It should not be a crime, should not feel like a crime, to find yourself and your space in the world.

There were always content creators who could slip a little wink in when they laid out their wares, oh what's this over here, silly me leaving this unattended where anybody could grab it, of course there might be more over by the side door if you come around the alleyway (but if anybody asks, you didn't get this from ME). We all watched Xena marry Gabrielle, in body language and between the lines. We sat around and traded theories and rumors about whether the people writing Due South knew what they were doing when they sent their buddy cops off into the frozen north alone together at the end of the show, if they'd done it on purpose, if they knew. But over the years, slowly, thankfully, the winks became less sly.

A teenage boy put his hand on another teenage boy's hand and said, you move me, and they kissed on network TV, in a prime-time show, on FOX, and the world didn't burn down. Here and there, where they wanted to, where they could without getting caught by their bosses and managers, content creators stopped subtly nudging people around the back door and started saying, "Here. This is on offer here too, on purpose. You get to have this, too."

And of course, of course that came with a whole host of problems too. Slide around to the back door but you didn't get this from me turned into it's an item on our special menu, totally legit, you've just got to ask because the boss throws a fit if we put it out front. Shopkeepers and content creators started advertising on the sly, come buy your fix here!, hiding the fine print that says you still have to take what you've purchased home and rebuild it with your semi-legal IKEA hacks. Maybe they'll consider listing that Destiel or Sterek as a full-service menu item next year. Is that Crowley/Aziraphale the real thing or is it lite?

And those problems are real and the conversations are worth having, and it's absolutely fair to be frustrated that you can't find the ship you want on sale in anything like your color and size in a vast media landscape packed full of discount hetships and fast-fashion m/f. It's fair to be angry. It's fair to be frustrated. Queerbait is a word that exists for a reason.

There's a part of me that hurts, though, every time the topic comes up. It's a confusing, bad-mannered part of me, but it's still very real. And it's not because I'm fawning for crumbs, trying to be the Good, Non-Threatening Gay. It's not that I'm scared and traumatized by the thought of what might happen if we dare raise our voices and ask for attention. (Well. Not mostly. I'll always remember being quiet and scared and fifteen, but it's been a long two decades since then. I know how to ask for a hell of a lot more now.)

It's because I remember that cozy, plush-wallpapered den of joyful thieves. I remember you keep what you steal.

Every single time--every time--when a story I love sets a couple of characters out on a low, unguarded table, perfectly placed to be pilfered on the sly and taken home and smushed together like a couple of dolls, my very first thought is always, always joy. Always, that instinct says, yay! Says, this is ours now. As soon as I go home and crawl into that pillow-fort den, my instincts say, I will surely find people already at work combing through spoils and finding new ways to combine them, new ways to make them our own. I know there's fic for that. I've already seen fic for that, and I wasn't really interested last time, but the new store display's got my brain churning, and I can't wait to see what the crew back at the hideout does with this.

Every time, that's where my brain goes. And oh, when I realize the display's put out on purpose, that somebody snuck in a legitimate special menu item, when the proprietor gives me the nod and wink and says, you don't have to come around the side, I know it's not much but here--there is so much joy and relief and hope in me from that! Oh, what we can make with these beautiful building blocks. Oh what a story we can craft from the pieces. Oh, the things we can cobble together. Look at that, this one's a little skimpy on parts but we can supplement it, this one's got a whole outline we can fill in however we want. This one technically comes semi-preassembled, and that's boring as shit and a pain to take back apart, but that's fine, we'll manage. We're artists and thieves. I bet someone's pulling out the AU saw to cut it to pieces already.

And then I get back to our den, which has moved addresses a dozen times over the years and mostly hangs out on Tumblr now (and the roof leaks and the landlord's sketchy as fuck but at least they don't charge rent, and we've made worse places our own). And I show up, ready for joy--ready for a dozen other people who saw that low-hanging fruit on that unguarded table, who got the nod and wink about the special menu item, who're ready to get so excited about this newest haul. Did you see what we picked up? The theft was so easy, practically begging to be stolen. The last owner was an idiot with no idea what to do with it. The last owner knew exactly what it could become, bless their heart, under a craftsman with more time on their hands, so they looked away on purpose at just the right time to let me take it home. I show up every time ready for our space, the place that fed me on joy and self-confidence when I was fifteen and starving. The place that taught me, yes, we are thieves, because it is RIGHT to take what we need, and the beautiful things we create are their own justification. We are thieves, and that's wonderful, because nothing is handed to us and that means we get to build our own palaces. We get to keep everything we steal.

I go home, and even knowing the world is different, my instincts and heart are waiting for that. And I walk in the door, and I look at my dash, and I glance over at twitter, and--

And people are angry, again. Angry at the slim pickings from the hidden special menu. So, so tired and angry, at once again having to steal.

And they're right to be! Sometimes (often, maybe) I think they're angry at the wrong people--more angry with the shopkeeper who offers the bite-sized sampler platter of side characters or sneaks their queer content in on the special menu than the ones who don't include it at all. But it's not wrong to be mad that Disney's once again advertising their First Gay Character only to find out it's a tiny sprinkle of a one-line extra on an otherwise straight sundae. It's not wrong to be furious at the world because you've spent your whole life needing to be a thief to survive. It's far from wrong. I'm angry about it too.

But this was my den of thieves, my chop shop, my makerspace. Growing up in fandom, I learned to pick the locks on stories and crack the safes of subtext at the very same time I learned to create. They were the same thing, the same art. We are thieves, my heart says, we are thieves, and that's what makes us better than the people we steal from. We deconstruct every time we create. We build better things out of the pieces.

And people are angry that the pre-fab materials are too hard to find, the pickings too slim, the items on sale too limited? Yes, of course they are, of course they should be--but my heart. Oh, my heart. Every single time, just a little bit, it breaks.

Of course the stories are terrible (they have always been terrible). Of course they are, but we are thieves. We steal the best parts and cobble them back together and what we make is better than it was before. The craftsman's eye that cases a story for weak points, for blank spaces, for anywhere we can fit a crowbar and pry apart this casing--that's skill and art and joy. Of course we shouldn't have to, of course we shouldn't have to, but I still love it. I still want it, crave it. I still thrill every time I see it, a story with hairline cracks that we can work open with clever hands to let the queer in.

That used to be cause for celebration, around here. I ask him to go back to the ruins of Aeor with me, two men together alone on an expedition in the frozen north, it feels like a gift. And I understand why some people take it as an insult. I understand not good enough. I understand how something can feel like a few drops of water to someone dying of thirst, like a slap in the face. If it was so easy to sneak it hidden onto the special menu, to place it on the unguarded side table for someone else to run off to, why not let it sit out front and center in the first place? I know it's frustrating. It should be. We should fight. We should always fight. I know why.

But my heart, oh, my heart. My heart only knows what it's been taught. My heart sees, this thing right here, the proprietor left it there for you with a nod and a wink because they Get It. It's not put together yet, but it's better that way anyway. It's so full of pieces to pull apart and reassemble. I bet they've got a whole mosaic wall going up at home already. We can bring it home and make it OURS, more than it was ever theirs, forget half of what it came from and grow a new garden in what remains.

And I go home to find anger, and my heart breaks instead.

[innuendostudios]

To Filth: Thoughts on Life is Strange: True Colors

[spoilers ahead]

1. I will state my biases before the court:

Maybe you have a person who is, for whatever reason, not in your life anymore, and you have missed them every day since you said goodbye. Their absence is a scar, a bit of ostensibly healed flesh that nevertheless acts up when the weather changes. That person whom you can think about, after several years of effort, for up to thirty entire seconds before crying.

I don't know how universal this experience is. But I have that person, and True Colors' protagonist Alex Chen reminds me of her so much. The hair, the fashion sense, the taste in music, the unexpectedly good singing voice, her friends' exclamation of "oh my god, you own a skirt???" Even the central hook of taking on everyone else's feelings. It's uncanny.

And I adore her. I would do almost anything for Alex Chen. And random moments were so authentic to my own, hyper-specific experience that I was devastated in ways pretty much no one but me will experience that way. The other 99.9999% of players may be devastated by the same moments in similar ways - a lot of us have That Person and, mathematically, at least a few will be like Alex Chen (in fact I think Alex Chen is the kind of character destined to be That Person for a lot of people) - but they won't drag up my memories. They won't think of that one day, that one moment, that one song. No one has lived my life but me.

So this game hit in ways particular to Ian Danskin, and it will hit different for people who are not me.

2. So here we are again. I made a whole video about Life is Strange. I did a write-up on Life is Strange: Before the Storm. I devoted 1/3 of another write up to Life is Strange 2. (Are those diminishing returns? Maybe.) I guess I'm a lifer for this series, even as my thoughts on every single one have been different phrasings of "mixed."

Life is Strange: True Colors isn't getting a video, but it deserves a full write-up.

In absolute terms, this is probably the series' best entry since the first. It also, I think, marks the point where the series stops growing. This is the FarCry 3 of Life is Strange. Dontnod created the IP but it's owned by Square Enix, and they've handed it off to Deck Nine. Dontnod are a weird bunch, driven to do weird things, tackle weird subjects, mess with weird mechanics. They have heads bursting with ideas; their reach is very long, and their grasp very finicky; they are a claw machine.

That's not Deck Nine. Deck Nine played things very safe when they made Before the Storm, their previous entry in the LiS series, made while Dontnod was working on the (ambitious, disastrous) LiS2. And they gonna take it from here. Dontnod will be off doing weirdo shit like Twin Mirror and Tell Me Why and Squeenix will leave Deck Nine to make LiS the sweet, offbeat series the first game was about 40% of the time and will try to wrangle the other stuff it was into something... manageable. Peripheral. Repeatable.

It's good, but it's also the end of something.

3. Thing is, Deck Nine does what it does well. Per Goethe's three questions, I am ambivalent as to whether Deck Nine should be turning Life is Strange into something cozy and safe, but damn if they don't sell it!

True Colors is about another young person with superpowers, using them to explore human drama (and the occasional criminal conspiracy) in a sleepy noplace with a one-block Main Street and about 12 residents who've known each other since forever. (Haven Springs is very much a pretty how town with up so floating many bells down.) Another bisexual love triangle, another set of tragedies, another pack of hallucinatory images safely cordoned off from the narrative in dreams and visions.

But Deck Nine can write. Deck Nine can animate. Deck Nine is more about tugging heartstrings than punching feels, but they are expert stringpullers. The first chapter (this is a single game in five chapters rather than Dontnod's episodic structure) is more or less perfect. The depth/nuance/subtlety on Alex's face, the amount of emotion she conveys with a nervous, sideways glance (you can tell she's breaking eye contact even when the person she's talking to is unseen). How do they pull off "conveying emotion while trying to hide it" solely in facial animations when they clearly don't have Last of Us money?? How do you capture "trying to disappear into the background" and make it look easy? Because, friends, I know it's not easy. And the dialogue is miles beyond what Dontnod can pull off, not even when they brought in ringers for LiS2. These are nuanced, believable, human characters who come into focus with only a few lines and expressions.

If you're going to make Life is Strange be about this and only this, the quiet, the human, the slice-of-life shit, it helps to be really good at that.

But there are reasons True Colors had so much good will when it was new but seemed to fade quickly from everyone's memory. Cozy and safe doesn't leave an impression the way a Dontnod dumpster fire does.

4. Here's the hook: Alex can feel people's emotions. They cast auras that she can tune into. For most strong feelings, she can hear the associated thoughts; for particularly intense ones, she feels them to the point of losing control.

Alex's deal is she and her brother, Gabe, lost their mom as children and, after a few years, their dad bailed and they ended up in the foster system. She and Gabe were separated when he stole a car and got sent to juvie. You can imagine a young girl with no family and a lot of trauma surrounded by a bunch of other youths dealing with similar and who literally feels all of their feelings as well would have a rough time at the orphanage. She is afraid when other people are afraid, gets in fights when other people are angry, and has a long history of scaring away friends and foster parents. As the game begins, she is finally a legal adult, about to reunite with her long-lost brother who settled in a small burg in Colorado.

The way Max's time travel powers in LiS1 could function as a metaphor for youthful indecision, Alex's work as a metaphor for empathy. This leads to a lot of beautiful moments; like, shockingly beautiful. Genuinely incredible. But between those moments are choppy waters.

5. Basically, a metaphor - especially an interactive metaphor - should illuminate something. It makes the abstract literal - emotions, ideas, what have you. Like, part of Max's story was about how every choice has consequences, that there isn't always a "right" decision, a "good" ending, that it's all trade-offs and decisions. Becoming who you want to be is giving up all the people you could have been. Making that tangible with time travel is a great way to explore the idea! It helps us get into guts of it, gives us something to hold onto, to visualize. It works.

Alex's powers don't work as a metaphor for empathy. They're too simple, too literal. Alex is carrying a lot of baggage, her emotions are erratic. She's understandably anxious and focuses a lot on how people around her are feeling. As a child she took it on herself to make peace between her ever-fighting father and brother, stuffing her own feelings down for their benefit. She gets in fights when other people are angry at her, or even around her. She panics when other people are afraid. She needs everyone around her to be stable before she can be stable herself. And now, as an adult, it means becoming a caretaker for everyone around her, even her elders, diving into everyone else's fear and anxiety and trauma, trying to help them instead of asking them for help with her own shit.

I didn't need a metaphor to explain any of that. Those are perfectly understandable themes. In fact, Deck Nine's precise set of skills are ideal for exploring them. Much of the game is them doing precisely that - conveying these themes with nothing but good writing and careful animation.

And, worse than not adding much, the superpowers are actually where the game feels... over-simple. Mechanical. Gamey.

6. The big upheaval at the end of Chapter 1 is that Gabe dies. His long-term girlfriend's son, Ethan, runs off to the mountains alone, Alex and Gabe and Gabe's best friend Ryan go looking for him, but the mining company is blasting that night and this causes a rock slide. Alex is tied to Gabe with mountain-climbing gear, but he gets knocked off the cliff and starts to drag Alex with him, so Ryan, to save Alex, has to cut the rope, letting Gabe fall to his death.

As I said, this chapter is more or less perfect. The set of puzzles you solve to figure out where Ethan has gone (reading his homemade comic book and realizing it's based on his adventures at the abandoned mine) really work. Alex has to save the kid despite having to fight through his fear as well as her own. It's really good! And that final beat - Ryan cutting the rope - sets up a lot of possibility for the rest of the game.

I mean, imagine it! A girl just out of the foster system, reunited with her brother, coming to a tiny town that immediately promises to stitch her into the community as they've already done with Gabe. A home and a life and a new set of friends, all the things she's been missing. And now that brother is dead. Imagine her having to deal with her own grief and everybody else's. Imagine the question of whether Ryan was wrong to cut that rope, whether Alex could have pulled Gabe up instead of going over, whether Ryan had any right to make that decision for her. Just think!

So many of these possibilities are weakened by the central metaphor. Alex starts tapping into people's feelings without getting overpowered by them (the thread where anger and terror make her lose control is swiftly dropped) in order to fix people's grief. We get little puzzles where we dig around in their memories of Gabe so she can find just the right things to say. Sometimes we get visualizations of their pain: Ryan's surroundings fall away until there's nothing but him and the cliff where Gabe died; Gabe's girlfriend Charlotte's abstract sculpture turns into a manifestation of the people she's angry with. And these all turn into little adventure game puzzles where you find all the memories and say the right thing, and... poof! Grief resolved!

There's just so much about the subject matter that can't fit into that Psychonauts loop. How on Earth am I doing little puzzles to relieve Ryan of his grief over killing my brother?? How is he not dealing with my grief? Where even is my grief? At the end of Ryan's puzzle chain, I'm given three dialogue options regarding who should forgive Ryan: does Alex forgive him, would Gabe forgive him, or does he need to forgive himself? What it doesn't give me is the option of Ryan not getting forgiven. Not because he doesn't deserve forgiveness, not because he should've risked us both dying, but because it's too soon. I believe Alex can forgive Ryan someday; I can even believe she'll need to for her own healing. I don't believe she can forgive him the day after it happened, nor that he could forgive himself so quickly. But it's a sequel to Life is Strange, so we've gotta have a bisexual love triangle, and Ryan's the only eligible bachelor in Haven Springs, so we've gotta get that pesky "grief over letting your brother die" thing squared away with a single dialogue puzzle.

(Which, by the way? Not a fucking chance. I got together with the cool lesbian - you think Alex Chen is straight? Do you see her side-cut? (Though, unlike Warren in LiS1, I could at least see the appeal of Ryan - he's sweet and lumbersexual. It's just that he killed my brother.))

This is the issue. The very first thing Alex does after Gabe's wake is solve a little puzzle to make Steph (the cool lesbian) feel better about her friend dying. Then she helps the old lady in the early stages of dementia deal with her fear and confusion. And on and on.

And the game lends itself to the interpretation that Alex is dealing with everyone else's feelings rather than addressing her own, and that this is her character flaw, the thing she'll need to overcome. But it doesn't actually go there. Because, like, that's the core mechanic! You help people with their problems. The game is gonna keep making you do it, so it can't come out and say "this is actually deeply unhealthy for Alex." (I mean, Dontnod would've done it. They spent the second half of LiS1 saying that about Max, but those are the very parts Squeenix hired Deck Nine to sand off.) So many interactions resolve with Alex "forgiving" people at the time in her grief where forgiving others would be most painful, and, based on the framing (and the "other player stats" at the end of each chapter), I can't shake that this is, canonically, the "right" way to play.

7. Let's talk about what works.

Beyond that immaculate first chapter, there's an extended bit in Chapter 3 that is pure delight. To cheer Ethan up, Steph plans a an elaborate LARP set in the universe of Ethan's own homemade comic, with Alex playing his companion (in my game she was a bard). The whole town gets in on it - the local bar is converted to a tavern managed by the local high-functioning alcoholic, the record shop sells "potions," a townsperson whose cat went missing in Chapter 1 is pretending to be a blacksmith and when you read his mind he's really into it. Also Ryan shows up three times in three different masks as monsters to be felled. And when you enter battle? The camera moves to the side and, since it's a LARP and you have to yell out what move you're doing, you of course pick your moves from a dialogue tree, but that means, functionally, the game becomes a turn-based RPG. It's wonderful.

Oh but it gets better. Ethan has been having a hard time since Gabe died, and this is the first he's really perked up. And at the end when he finds his magical boon, he's so happy that Alex starts picking up on his joy. And it does that thing where she gets visions of what the other person is experiencing, so the whole town turns into an actual fantasy realm and you fight the final boss in realistic garb with realistic ruins and the same sideways camera but now selecting moves from the dialogue tree has the Final Fantasy "bwip bwip" sound effect and the moves have particle and lighting effects instead of just a boy swinging a cardboard sword and yelling "two damage!" It's beautiful. It's everything.

And in Chapter 5 there's an extended tour through Alex's memories, where she has to "play her part" in the moments when she lost each member of her family, and it's absolutely heartbreaking. (Though it ends with her imagined Gabe telling her to stop blaming herself and "let it go," which, once again, is treated as an event rather than the beginning of a years-long process but whatever!)

And the climax is Alex confronting the man responsible for covering up Gabe's death. (Oh, uh... Gabe's death wasn't an accident, the mining company set off the blast knowing people were on the mountain, and there's been an elaborate cover-up because it's not Life is Strange without a small-town criminal conspiracy! Anyway, Ryan's dad was in on it and he shoots you and drops you down a mine shaft at the end of Chapter 4.)

Anyway, you confront Ryan's dad (Jed) at the end, and it's another of those scenes where the game reviews all your choices for you, this time by seeing who in town believes your story. The nonbelievers think Alex is delusional and only looks like hell because she wandered into the mines alone. (Weirdly she never says "I have a bullet matching Jed's gun in my gut right now." (And this would be a really easy plot hole to fix? Just have Jed kick Alex down the mine shaft instead of shooting her. C'mon people!)) And, whatever, that's always hokey, but I've come to expect it from these kinds of games.

But then her powers come into the confrontation and it's... glorious. Because it's the first time Alex uses her powers to do something other than make someone's bad feelings go away. She uses her power of empathy to read Jed to filth.

And it works so freaking well. She, I dunno, freezes time or something (don't ask questions) and basically searches his soul and tells him everything that's going on inside him. Tells him why he covered up the truth, what lies he tells himself, what feelings are under those lies. She uses her empathy but not to absolve, not to heal, but to confront. She uses it to inform her own emotions, and then make someone else see how she's feeling. She is able to feel complete and total empathy while still tell him he is wrong. And, if you are inclined to read her character arc as being about learning not to caretake everyone around her, it's a real culminating moment (though you'd be doing most of the legwork there). I still think the game wants me to forgive him but it at least gives me a choice this time.

Confronted with the brutally honest truth about him, forced to feel all the things he's buried, he bursts into tears and confesses.

This scene is powerful.

8. In the end, True Colors is a bunch of good parts. It's not more than the sum of its parts. I'm not convinced it's less, either. I don't think it's parts sum at all. It's a collection of good bits and some stuff holding them together. It doesn't feel complete. It doesn't cohere. There is so much it should be that is left on the table. I am left wanting. But it has parts that are among the best moments in the series. And that's what I'll be remembering. I won't remember this as a whole game. I'll remember it as a character I cared about, and a handful of scenes that meant the world to me. And the rest, I'll just... forget.

It could have been so much more. But it could have been so much less. I don't have much hope for the series' future. But. We had some moments. I'll hold onto them.

And I'm going to miss Alex.

[hmspogue]

y’all know what’s hitting me hardest about this season?

its that after years of being treated like shit by show runners who let their egos separate them from the very fan base that makes their show the success it is, show runners who alienated themselves and drove their shoes into the ground out of sheer pride, show runners who ignored their audiences wishes and observations because of some weird power trip they go on when their show gained traction, show runners that baited fans into watching with teases of what they know they actually want to see then gaslighting them into thinking it wasn’t there at all....after years of that we get show runners like jonas, shannon, and josh.

show runners clearly care more about their show and what it represents than the money it brings them, show runners that promised to listen to their audience and take note of how they can improve.

who heard “Pope needs more development and we really didn’t like what you did to his character at the end is last season”. and said okay, now the backbone of this story is based around him and his family legacy, making it now not just about getting the gold for monetary reasons but deeply personal ones. now he has been put in essentially the same emotional situation and showed clear growth from it. proving him to be the loyal, caring, steadfast friend you always knew he was.

who heard “you can do better with the portrayal of your female characters”. and said okay, now Sarah has a very complex storyline about the inner struggle between the family you have vs the family you choose, complete with themes grief and healing and trauma and so much development. now Kiara also has to struggle with the concept of loyalties and who you are vs who your family wants you to be. now you have the new character of Cleo who is an absolute bad ass, all around incredible friend, and funny as all get out. now you have the Kie and Sarah friendship being so strong and so secure.

who heard “i know you guys like the gold and the action but please don’t forget about the friendships”. and said okay. now you can have one of the nose insane action packed, twisty seasons of tv you’ve ever seen while still somehow managing to keep in scenes that show the bond these teenagers have. with moments of laughter and tenderness and talking through very, very difficult feelings that prove no matter what happens, they will never ever give up on each other.

who heard “hey we really like this ship actually. but please handle it well” and said okay. now you have the clear, slowburn development of feelings between JJ and Kie without disregarding Pope’s feelings, showing why him and Kie aren’t compatible and they so clearly are. without pushing it on you or dropping it out of nowhere.

there are so many other examples i cant even think of right now bc my brain is still in over drive. but, bottom line is that the heart and love they put into this season is so obvious and absolutely seeps out of every single episode.

this is the perfect picture of what it looks like to genuinely care about your characters and the world you’ve created and the fans who help make the show what it is. instead of just being in it to turn a quick buck.

all i have to say is well done.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 325: Deku VS the Outside of U.A. ~Conclusion~

Previously on BnHA: Ochako was all “dear bloodthirsty mob, this kid you see standing before you has fought harder than anyone and put his life on the line to protect you all, so please chill the fuck out, jesus christ. like, putting aside that he’s humanity’s best hope and so it’s very much in your best interests to let him rest and recover someplace safe so that he can keep fighting for us, are y’all seriously going to turn away an injured and exhausted child in front of his sobbing mother?? seriously?? come on now.” I’m paraphrasing here but that’s basically how it went down. Anyway so then the mob was all, “...” and Deku collapsed to his knees in tears, and Gigantic Fox Lady and Kouta ran over to give him a hug but then the chapter ended.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “FINE, YOU CAN HUG HIM”, which, was that so hard?? The U.A. Clown Mob is all “come to think of it, we’ve kind of been taking the heroes for granted this entire time, maybe we should be less passive in the future. anyway so Deku if it’s not too much to ask, can you please save everyone and fix everything.” Deku is all “I sure can, and by the way I forgive you for swarming around all menacingly two minutes ago and trying to deny me basic shelter and stuff.” Ectoplasm is all, “hey Todogang get a load of this. [walks in a circle].” Hawks is all, “that’s literally the greatest thing I’ve ever seen.” Rat Principal is all, “anyway so that’s what your students did today, hope you’re enjoying your new *~*ROBOT LEG*~*, Aizawa.” Aizawa is all “[lots of exposition about Kurogiri and for some reason, Toga, while being all brooding and sexy].” All Might is all “[standing here right outside of U.A. doing absolutely nothing and being foreboding AF]” and that immediately sucked away all of the warm fuzzy feelings from the hugs, goddammit.

each new week has become a waiting game of “when will Deku finally get to take a bath so people will actually be willing to go near him and give him the hugs he deserves.” the stakes have never been so compelling. I’ve almost forgotten about AFO entirely

lmaoooooo

me: for the love of god will someone please give Deku a hug before I die of old age

Mineta: YOU GOT IT!! --

Iida: [SWIFTLY CUTS HIM OFF] NOT YOU

fucking losing it at Mineta’s crying face. he really wanted to hug him. I legit feel bad but this is also the funniest thing I have seen all week, omg

somehow Kouta, who last week was only a hand’s breadth away from touching Deku’s head, is now twenty miles away from him in this new chapter

can I make a Loki reference here. is this recap a good place to insert a joke about someone using a TVA time-rewinding device to fuck with my poor boy Kouta over here. well anyway there it is

AND NOW HE’S BACK ALL OF A SUDDEN OMG

(ETA: since when is he “niichan” omg?? can’t handle this cuteness.)

BUT THEY’RE STILL NOT HUGGING HIM FFFFKFFFFF. WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO. WHO DO I HAVE TO BRIBE AND/OR BLACKMAIL

OH NO KOUTA IS CRYING THAT’S IT I’M DONE FOR

“when I heard that lady I knew that I had to go, but then stop again within inches of actually touching you because you smell like week-old rotten onions.” listen Kouta, I’m not saying I don’t get it, but you all can’t keep doing this to me. it’s the way you guys keep teasing it. like, if you’re gonna hug him, hug him. don’t just stand there with your arms held rigidly out in front of you like a molded action figure

OH MY GOSH BUT HE SAID THE THING

KOUTA SWOOPING IN AT THE LAST MINUTE TO TAKE ALL THE CREDIT FOR FIXING DEKU LIKE THAT ONE KID IN THE GROUP PROJECT WHO DOES ABSOLUTELY NOTHING BUT STILL TAGS HIS NAME ONTO THE REPORT ANYWAY, WHAT A KNAVE

GASP

(  ´͈ ᗨ `͈ )

SHE PICKED HIM UP LIKE A LITTLE BABY OMG?? she just leaned right over and lifted this child like he was a small animal. like a lil baby futon that she was about to hang up to dry. oh my god

-- HEY WHAT

(: well that’s extremely fucked up. though sadly not too surprising given what we just saw these past couple chapters

incidentally, I hope that anyone who was legitimately defending the civilians’ perspective earlier takes note here of how quickly that line of thinking -- “we’re just trying to keep our families safe” and all that-- can lead to straight up bigotry. if you’re willing to deny a child shelter and protection simply because he’s not YOUR child, and because you’ve decided based on Internet rumors (no real-world parallels there, I’m sure) that he might present a threat, it’s really not that much further of a leap to discriminating against entire groups of people simply because you perceive those groups as being dangerous. I’m sure the people who turned Gigantic Fox Lady away also told themselves afterwards that they did it to protect their families. “better safe than sorry.” “she’ll be fine, someone will take her in, but as for us, we can’t afford to take that risk.” people can come up with all kinds of justifications for treating other people as less than human, and the really scary thing about it is how fucking easy it is

one last quick side note, which is that Horikoshi does a great job here of showing how scapegoating works, given that AFO is the one who’s really to blame and who presents the actual threat, and yet Deku is the one who ultimately winds up being the target of the mob’s fear and outrage despite him being as much of a victim as they are. gotta love that irony, which unfortunately plays out far too often in the real world as well.

anyway I’ll get off my soapbox now, sorry about that. let us continue

YES, FINALLY OH MY GOD!!!!

AND THAT’S THE STORY OF HOW GIGANTIC FOX LADY BECAME THE GREATEST HERO. PACK IT ALL UP, WE’RE DONE HERE KIDS

holy shit. the real MVP right there. thanks for getting it done champ

jesus christ I have had it up to here with these people

literally the bar is set so low at this point that I’ll go ahead and take it. helping him because it offers them a tactical advantage is at least one step up from not helping him at all

“WHY NOT SHIKETSU” MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD

-- thank you!!

okay this one guy with the antennae hair is having himself a character development speedrun here

-- okay, but this part?? fucking this part, right here??

can we repeat that again?? the part where this guy acknowledges that the problems of hero society were caused not just by said heroes, but also by said society?? the part where he acknowledges that they treated the heroes like celebrities who were putting on a show for them?? the part where he acknowledges that when push came to shove, the vast majority of those heroes, when faced with a situation that offered no reward, were nonetheless willing to put their lives on the line to protect the very same people who then turned around and blamed them rather than thanking them?? are the civilians of BnHA even allowed to have actual deep thoughts about this stuff. holy shit

bro!!

ANTENNAE HAIR GUY SHOVING KOUTA AND GIGANTIC FOX LADY OUT OF THE WAY TO SLAP HIS NAME ONTO THE END CREDITS AS EXECUTIVE PRODUCER. CONGRATULATIONS SON YOU FIGURED OUT THE CORE PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTION AT THE VERY HEART OF THE MANGA. WAY TO GO BUD

meanwhile, on today’s episode of “one more chapter to go till the big volume cliffhanger, how else can I drag things out let’s see”

it’s a panel. of people’s feet. just a bunch of normal feet. with sneakers and shit

this All Might shirt guy is getting more screentime in this arc than 90% of the class 1-A kids

I guess I’m supposed to feel sorry for this dude now that he’s all “if we let you stay here do you promise to somehow magically fix every single problem that we are now currently facing?” those are some ridiculously exacting standards my dude. come on now

KACCHAN SIGHTING

thank fuck I’m not the only one who’s thoroughly unimpressed by absolutely all of this lol. I feel better now. meanwhile Iida and Kouda and Kiri are ready to run over there and hug them all. you guys are way too forgiving. damn you and your pure hearts

anyway so Deku’s like “yeah, definitely”

(ETA: almost forgot to comment on the “I’m no longer alone” part – he basically corrects the guy and says “sorry, but you’ll need to direct that question towards all of us, not just me, because moving forward we’re a team.” good stuff.)

you know what though, all joking aside... fuck yeah. because perfect victory, right. the strongest guys don’t settle for anything less. so I guess Deku has pretty exacting standards himself

also can you all just take a look at this fucking kid who’s got so much light in his eyes now that I’m gonna need eclipse goggles. hot damn. “you’re welcome” says All Might Shirt Guy as he is frantically interviewed by several local news networks asking him how he daringly managed to save Deku all by himself. “well I guess I’ve just never been the kind of guy who can sit back and let a bunch of rabble-rousers blame a little kid for all of humanity’s problems. someone had to step in and take action, you know?”

oH MY GOD THE SCENE IS FINALLY ENDING

don’t let the door hit you on your way out All Might Shirt Guy

but meanwhile, sudden Tododrama action??

oh shit

there are honestly so many ways in which Ochako’s very moving speech could have wildly backfired that I genuinely have no clue where this is headed lol. how exciting!!

so now Horikoshi is once again stalling for time with random filler panels, but this one is 10x better than the shoes lol omg

(1) was Ectoplasm’s jacket always this oversized. (2) did you guys know that if you go back to chapter 319 you can see that Horikoshi gave us a sneak peak at Enji’s Sad Detective disguise and I in fact made a joke about it in the 319 recap not realizing it was actually the stone cold truth. (3) did Shouto deliberately speed up out of impatience because Hawks was walking so fucking slow and he couldn’t take it any longer. (4) and what, I ask you, is up with these dramatic speedlines. so many mysteries here. what a masterpiece

everyone is acting all shocked about something ahh what’s going on

wait what

what the heck. did they just loop around behind everyone. what was the point of that lol. “anyway, so this is what they look like from the back” well okay, thanks for that Ectoplasm

(ETA: so it seems like they were actually hanging out someplace else away from the crowd this whole time, I guess? here I thought they had more faith in Enji’s disguise. I guess Shouto and Hawks don’t particularly want to attract this crowd’s attention themselves right now either, though.)

I am so fucking confused lmao

speaking of All Might WHERE THE FUCK IS HE lol. but yes, good, OFA brings everyone together, and Hawks is very deeply moved about this out of the blue all of a sudden. you know how it is

aw heck yeah now this is another filler panel I can get behind

Mineta really wants that hug, good lord. I genuinely love this actually. Mineta if you could just stay little and cute and keep crying about how much you love your classmates in a non-gross way for the rest of the series I would be so appreciative. you’re doing great

IIDA IS HOLDING DEKU’S HAND THIS IS NOT A DRILL. ONE TIME WASN’T ENOUGH FOR MY MAN HE’S ADDICTED NOW

what did I tell you. Kiri wants to get all of the mob’s autographs now. Kiri you’re a peach

Shouji having a conversation with another mutant type is a very nice touch! we really need to get to his backstory soon. I feel like that casual remark from GFL earlier was kind of hinting at more to come

is this the first time we’ve ever seen the Yaoyorictionary in action?? never forget that Viz tried to call it the “Yaoyorozu Reference Book” because they hate fun

last but not least, KAMIBAKU IS BACK ON THE MENU, FUCK YEAH. Kaminari trying to spice things up and introduce a little bit of controversy by smacking Kacchan on the back of the head for god knows what. I will be deeply disappointed after this if I can’t find at least one person unironically declaring that KamiBaku is now toxic and abusive

lfkdlWLWK TODODRAMA??

oh my god. Shouto’s face. Enji’s face. the back to “oyaji” again. the blunt, not-taking-no-for-an-answer, “I don’t know how much louder the universe can scream at you that doing things alone is not it, so hopefully you got the point” directness of it. fffdlkslj I’m so ready for this Horikoshi please don’t fuck it up my expectations are so high

HOLY FUCK

I SCROLLED DOWN AND HE WAS ALL “( ❛‿❛)” AND I JUST WASN’T FUCKING EXPECTING THAT OKAY. JESUS CHRIST. GIVE ME A SEC

lol okay moment over and now Enji’s pulling his hat down all dramatically like a world-weary Cowboy

OH MY GOD WERE YOU FACETIMING??

AHHHHHHHHH

(ETA: not to put Iida down or anything, but it’s kind of strange that Aizawa is all “the class rep sure did great” when Ochako is the one that was giving that whole big speech for like twenty minutes just now lol.)

(ETA 2: “thank god Iida stepped in just in the nick of time to keep Mineta from hugging Deku.” sorry Mineta I really do like you lately but it’s still low-hanging fruit lol.)

HE LOOKS SO SAD??! HE LOOKS LIKE HEARTBREAK ITSELF??! I AM BESOUGHT WITH THE URGE TO REACH INTO MY SCREEN AND PULL HIM INTO THE SAFETY OF MY ARMS??? MY GOD, AND I THOUGHT DEKU NEEDED HUGS

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH okay I was gonna just hold down the letter H for a full minute and count it out loud but within about ten seconds I realized I needed to chill lol

-- but then again NO, I DON’T NEED TO CHILL, I HAVE ZERO CHILL, ACTUALLY, BECAUSE IT’S AIZAWA WITH A ROBOT LEG AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

COMPLETE WITH ROBOT TOES FOR THAT EXTRA TOUCH OF AUTHENTICITY!! I LIKE HOW HORIKOSHI PUT ALL THIS EXTRA “!!!” EMPHASIS AROUND IT IN CASE WE COULD SOMEHOW POSSIBLY FAIL TO TAKE NOTICE. “REMEMBER, EVERYONE?” SAYS HORIKOSHI HELPFULLY. “REMEMBER THAT TIME AIZAWA CHOPPED OFF HIS OWN LEG?” oh wow now that you mention it we somehow forgot all about that. like who do you take us for

OH NO NOT THE SAD BOYFRIEND ANGST THAT I WAS SECRETLY LOOKING FORWARD TO WITH GLEE

well at least he’s not M.I.A. or back with the villains again like I thought he might be. still, that’s gotta be brutal to know your friend is in there somewhere, but to not be able to reach him again no matter how hard you try. that’s the kind of angst that pays off in final battles just when you most expect it. such is my hope, at any rate

what’s this now??

trying to decide if this is Horikoshi’s way of saying don’t worry about that, or his way of saying definitely worry about that lol

anyway so Aizawa is out here being all irresponsibly handsome once again. when is someone going to do something about him

here for Sexy Robot Leg Eyepatch Aizawa clenching his fists and making speeches about revenge. pretty sure we’re all here for that

WELL, WELL, WELL

IT’S ABOUT FUCKING TIME

I’M VERY GLAD YOU’RE ALIVE AND SEEMINGLY WELL, THOUGH!

BUT WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK THOUGH, ALL MIGHT

ffff. bracing myself for that cliffhanger next week. you’d better not touch one hair on this man’s head Horikoshi. I’m watching you 

[sporticus1234]

Catch Me if You Can-Laws of Attraction (Part 2) 🍋

Summary: After weeks of flirting, teasing, and close calls, Tessa is ready to take the plunge, but can Gabe overcome his own worse fears and join her?

Pairing: Gabe Ricci x Main Character (Tessa Michaels)

Link to my Master-List and Other works will be added once they have been re-edited and re-uploaded.

Catch up with Part 1 Here: Part 1

WARNING: The following story has a  🍋 rating, meaning there will be topics of 

NSFW

Smut

Strong Language

By viewing of this work, you are acknowledging and consenting to the fact that you are 18+ years of age and can view such works.

Tagging:  @choices-addict @choiceskatie @lady-calypso @chemist-ana @kat-tia801 @chrissythomas05-blog @nishas-paradise  @blainehellyes  @suitfer @pixelnutrookie  @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @adiehardfan @panda9511 @curiousconch @weaving-in-words  @mm2305 @thegreentwin

I love you all so much, and I will see you again soon!

_________________________

If you hesitate, opportunities will pass by you So open your heart and come out      -Girls Generation, The Boys (Korean Ver.)

The hotel café the following morning was full of delicious, mouth-watering smells and buzzing conversations of the guests milling around, families excitedly planning for the day ahead or business associates discussing their upcoming ventures and other current events. In the back corner of the room next to the sheer curtains covering the early morning Boston sun, Gabe Ricci halfheartedly pokes his fork around the scrambled mess of eggs barely eaten in front of him, his head resting on a propped fist as his eyes struggle to stay open as a dull headache thumps in his head. He lifts his fork to take another bite of eggs, but his stomach lurches at the sight, and he drops the fork with a clatter. He reaches out to pour himself another cup of coffee, but he curses under his breath when he realizes the pot he ordered was empty. He tries to catch the attention of a passing waiter, but his eyes instead slide to a couple sitting a few tables away from him, their fingers laced together on the table as they share an intimate conversation punctuated by giggles and kisses across the other’s knuckles. The sight makes his stomach ache in guilt as the events of last night play like a never-ending repeat of a bad movie in his mind.

He knows there is no one else to blame; he is the one solely responsible for the shitty mess between him and Tessa. If he just gave her the obvious answer last night, he wouldn’t be sitting in the back corner on the verge of a hangover and close to passing out in his eggs. Instead, the two of them would be upstairs in his suite, her hair splayed out over one of the pillows as their limbs tangle together underneath the soft sheets draping over their naked bodies. Or, they would be eating breakfast in bed and watching the sun rise behind the towering skyscrapers as they share intimate little details about each other. Yet here he was, sitting down here and looking pathetically ridiculous as he stares a hole into his eggs like they held the answer to the question of why he was down here and not upstairs.

But Gabe already knows why he is sitting down here.

He is afraid that Tessa would reject him once things got serious.

Gabe Ricci, the man who stares down opposing attorneys and judges in a packed courtroom is afraid of something like rejection from a woman. The man who is confidently sure of himself and goes toe to toe with some of the greatest legal minds of the current day is afraid of being told “no.” The whole situation seems entirely laughable, and Gabe would completely understand if people saw it that way. But those people didn’t know about the one specific incident all those years ago that completely changed the course of his life and made him the way he is today.

Gabe considers himself to be an “all or nothing” person, devoting one hundred percent of himself to everything in his life, whether it was his job, himself, his relationships, and even his love life. It was his “all or nothing”, caring attitude that brought him to the door of the New York Public Defender’s office. Being a public defender was never going to be a smooth sailing job, but even with the obstacles in front of him, Gabe still defended his clients with everything he had. But at the end of the day, his “all or nothing” attitude was still not enough. He had little to no victories to back up his expertise and knowledge, and the passion he had for the legal field dwindled with every “guilty” verdict that felt like a swift punch to the gut. The workload was becoming overbearing with each passing year, and eventually, Gabe started questioning his own abilities and confidence. He found himself trapped in a never-ending nightmare with no chance of escape.

Even though his job was becoming a literal hell, he could always count on the one bright spot in his life at the time.

Katrina.

Katrina was everything Gabe hoped to find in a partner. She was kind, intelligent, caring. The two of them had an incredible whirlwind romance, and Gabe felt like he was walking on Cloud Nine when she was around. She was the one person who made everything feel better after a hard day. She was the one person who motivated him to push forward, encouraging him and giving him belief that one day, things would become better than what they were. She was the first person Gabe had met who he truly believed shared his same attitude of “all or nothing”, and their relationship grew more serious with each passing day. The future of their relationship came to a head one night in Central Park, where Gabe found himself on one knee in front of her with a glittering diamond ring in his hand, ready to fully go “all in” and spend the rest of his life with her. However, two little words made the intense romance they once shared fizzle out and leave his spirits firmly crushed. She rejected him in Central Park, and a week later, she moved out of his apartment and out of his life, the two of them unable to rekindle the romance they once shared despite their best efforts.

The pain of her rejection made him a closed-off shell of his former self. He never socialized after work or on the weekends unless he absolutely had to, and if he did, he hardly spoke to anyone unless the situation called for it. His work continued to suffer as he couldn’t find the heart and motivation to defend his clients as well as he knew he could. But one day after a trial, Sadie McGraw cornered him and offered him a second chance, a chance to start over and become the lawyer she knew he could become. With her help and guidance, Gabe slowly started rediscovering himself as a lawyer. The power she had given him combined with his knowledge and expertise pulled in big wins for the firm and moved him up towards the top ranks of McGraw Byrne. He was rediscovering his passion for the legal field and helping others. People began to congratulate him on his wins and praise his incredible devotion to the firm.

While he wouldn’t argue his devotion to the job, it wasn’t the sole reason he stayed long nights or came to work early in the morning. Every time he went back to his apartment after work, the sliver of happiness he felt and the boisterous conversations of the office became replaced by dreaded loneliness and cold quietness. The solitary confines of his apartment were a constant, mocking reminder of what he didn’t have anymore, a reminder of her rejection all those years ago. The office became a safe space of sorts for him, and he dreaded leaving its comfort. With the company’s generosity, Gabe secured a new, better apartment where he could make new memories and not be constantly reminded of bitter ones. The one thing the company couldn’t help him with was finding the one person who made him feel even a tenth of what Katrina made him feel. He never shied away from going out on dates as he attempted to move on with his life, but no one understood his passion, commitment, and devotion the way Katrina did. Plenty of people managed to catch his attention, but no one came close enough to keep it.

Until Tessa walked through the doors.

Gabe had discovered her the same way Sadie did, and he knew she would be a perfect addition to McGraw Byrne when Sadie opened up spots on the team. He had firsthand knowledge of her legal expertise, and he knew she fully devoted herself to her clients and used the knowledge she continued to learn in order to help them. However, while she managed to capture his attention, she was the only one who managed to keep it. She is incredibly beautiful; there was no denying that fact. But seeing her in action shined a completely different light on her. She goes above and beyond for her clients, and she willingly and gladly steps up and takes initiative when needed. She isn’t afraid to go toe-to-toe with some of the best attorneys in the state. Passion flows out of her like a waterfall, and it shows in her work. She is quick-witted and sharp, her eyes and mind never missing a single detail, and Gabe was not only impressed, but insanely captivated by her.

He initially didn’t think much of their constant flirting in the office or their dinner outings together, especially since Tessa flirted with the fireman for her eviction case. He was a little jealous she flirted with someone else, but since her flirting charmed the fireman into giving her more information than needed, she pulled in a massive win for the firm, and Gabe simply brushed it off and chalked up the flirting as part of her charm. It wasn’t until the cancelled business dinner that Gabe realized what was between them was more than just their typical flirting. He was catching real feelings for her, no matter how much he tried to deny it. While he did acknowledge his feelings for her, his heart was still too guarded and afraid to act on them. Tessa was the first girl he had serious feelings for since Katrina left him. He didn’t know if Tessa even felt the same way he did, nor did he know if he would be able to repair it again if his relationship with Tessa ended the same way like Katrina.

But deep down in his gut, he knew that Tessa was different from Katrina. It was a feeling he couldn’t put a logical reason on, but a gut feeling, one that you just know is true even if you couldn’t explain it. She was the first person Gabe felt genuinely happy with in a long time. Gabe not only believed in a future with her, he could also picture it. Everything he pictured and every interaction they have together doesn’t feel awkward or forced. It feels natural and…right. Aside from that, Tessa showed time and time again that she wants to be with him. If she didn’t, she would’ve turned down every invitation he gave her, and she wouldn’t have gone out of her way to make sure they spend a few moments alone together whenever they can. Tessa already made her feelings about him clear last night, and she was ready to risk the opportunity at becoming partner at one of the country’s premier law firms. She was more than willing to risk it if it meant having him.

Could he really do the same and risk his comfort for her?

_________________________

The morning sun spills into the living room of the hotel suite as the remains of Tessa’s in-room breakfast lay scattered across the coffee table. A re-run of celebrity chef Everett Flynt’s new TV show plays in the background as she busies herself in the bathroom, putting on the last touches of preparations for the day ahead. Once satisfied with her appearance, she pads back out into the bedroom and opens the closet to find an outfit for the day. When her fingers graze the powder blue dress she wore to the cocktail party last night, her task becomes forgotten as her mind flashes back to the night before, her stomach aching at the bitter taste of the memory.

The weekend conference had started off so well with everyone laughing and joking like the best of friends. The cocktail party went off without a hitch, and she managed to score some huge connections with distinguished judges and other lawyers. Everything about the weekend was absolutely perfect, until she decided to stick around and have a late-night snack and drink with Gabe and confessed her harbored feelings toward him. Looking back, the idea to share them was not one of her finer moments; she was certain Gabe and her would take the next steps of their relationship after confessing their feelings for each other, but instead, Gabe did the same thing he always does when they get close to crossing a line. He quickly doused the growing flame and pushed her away once again.

She grabs an outfit from the closet and starts getting dressed, her eyes glancing over at her bed and seeing a few jet-black streaks on the pillowcase, a reminder of what happened last night after she walked away from him. But it also reminds her she can’t keep running back to him and giving him chance after chance. As much as it hurts to walk away from him and what they potentially could have, she knows deep down she will be better off in the long run for doing so. She couldn’t open her heart and let someone inside only to have him lock her out of his. It was Gabe’s turn to return the favor, and this time, his words were no longer going to be enough. It was time for his actions to match his words and feelings, and until they did, Tessa has to move forward with her life.

She finishes getting dressed and fixes the loose strands of hair that got out of place. She glances at the alarm clock on her nightstand, seeing it is still too early for the company cars to come take them back to New York. Just as she was about to lounge on the couch and distract herself with Everett Flynt’s TV show, a loud knock reverberates through the space.

It couldn’t be…could it?

Mind curious, she makes her way over to the door and peeks out of the peephole, her stomach flipping circles as her pulse quickens at the sight of Gabe standing right behind the door. She takes a deep breath and opens the door to see him standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets and his feet shuffling nervously. His actions make her more nervous than excited; Gabe normally acts so confident and sure of himself, and to see him act completely not himself makes tension creep into her thoughts.

“Hi…” Gabe says with a rare, bashful smile as he flicks his eyes down to his shoes. “Can we…” he rubs the back of his neck, “can we talk?”

Seeing him in front of her makes her feel the sting of his rejection all over again, and she has half a mind to slam the door in his face and finally give him a taste of how it feels to be rejected. But when he lifts his eyes towards her, her heart twinges in sympathy. The trademark, mischievous twinkle in his eye is no longer there, and his shoulders look like they’re carrying the weight of the world on them.

“Please…” he quietly pleads.

He’s making the effort you wanted him to make she reminds herself. With a sigh, she gives him a small, almost inscrutable nod, and Gabe flashes her a soft, grateful smile as he shuffles past her, their arms brushing against each other. Tessa tries to force down the warm prick she felt as she shuts the door behind him and follows him to the living room, making sure to keep plenty of space between them, knowing that if she didn’t, she would never get the answers to her questions. Gabe takes a look around the room, taking in the half-eaten breakfast and the way she stands with her arms crossed protectively over her chest, the space between them feeling like a chasm as guilt blooms in his chest again. The air was filling with cold tension, and Gabe awkwardly clears his throat, eyes darting around to find something to break the quiet spell.

His eyes land on the TV, and he jumps at the opportunity it presents. “Taste of the World? Isn’t this the episode where Everett runs away from the show and the culinary producer he obviously has feelings for?”

“Seems fitting, doesn’t it?” Tessa blurts out with a humorless guffaw. Gabe flinches at the sting of her words, and she squeezes her eyes shut in regret, cursing at herself under her breath. As upset as she is, Gabe made the first move. The least she could do is hear him out. “I’m sorry, Gabe. I didn’t…”

“Don’t be sorry,” Gabe cuts in. “I deserve that and much more.” He takes a step closer to her, and when she doesn’t back up, he continues. “In any case, you have nothing to be sorry for. None of this is your fault.”

“Maybe it is my fault,” Tessa concedes. “I was being too pushy and trying to force an answer out of you that you clearly weren’t ready to tell me.” She uncrosses her arms and drops them back to her sides, a sign that Gabe takes as a good one.

“You weren’t being pushy, Tessa. You were only being honest with me, and no one should ever be blamed for being honest. And you’re right. The show is fitting considering I’m the one who keeps running away when it’s the last thing I want to do.”

The harsh expression on her face softens into mild surprise. Was he fixing to tell her the real reason he keeps running away? “Gabe, all I want to know is why do you keep running when it’s clear that you and I both want this?”

Gabe swallows the lump in his throat, the memory of her rejection rearing its ugly head again. “Because that’s exactly what she did.”

Tessa furrows her brows. “Who’s she?”

“Katrina.”

“Who’s Katrina?” After a long pause, the lightbulb goes off in her head, and her eyes widen in recognition. “Oh…” Her mind goes back to the night of the business dinner and the far-off look Gabe had in his eyes at her question of commitment.

“Even in this city?” she asks him in pure surprise. “You’ve really never found someone who’s as all-in as you are?”

Gabe looks across the glittering skyline of New York. “I thought I had, once…” he turns his attention back to her, and Tessa can see the unspoken memory fade from his eyes, “but that was a long time ago. And as it turns out, I was wrong about her.”

“How…” she swallows hard, her heart aching in sympathy for him. “How bad was it, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Gabe scratches his stubbled chin and lets out a humorless, bitter chuckle. “Let’s just say I can’t get a refund on the ring anymore.”

Her eyes widen into the size of saucers, and her jaw drops open in complete shock. His actions and words suddenly became much more understandable. It explained why Gabe kept running away and avoided crossing the line between playful flirting and serious romance. He thought if he didn’t cross those lines and reject her first, she was going to be the one to do it eventually. He refused to act on his feelings because the last time he did, Katrina rejected his proposal and left him. Gabe didn’t build the walls around his heart to keep her out. He built them because he was afraid history was going to repeat itself, and he chose to live in his own little bubble of comfort instead of taking another risk, and Tessa couldn’t blame him one bit for it.

“I’m really sorry she did that to you, Gabe.” Her feet move closer to him, the space becoming smaller. “I had no idea.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he brushes off. “I’ve moved on from it. In any case, her rejection changed my life for the better. If she didn’t, I probably wouldn’t be at McGraw Byrne in the first place, and I never would’ve met you.”

Tessa fidgets with her ring. “Gabe…” she begins, but quickly trails off.

“What?” he asks her. “You know you can say or tell me anything right?”

“I know, but…” she takes another deep breath, forcing herself to say what she was thinking. “Do you really have feelings for me?”

“Absolutely,” Gabe says, no hesitation in his voice. It makes her heart flutter a bit.

“Have I given you any reason to doubt my feelings for you?”

“No.”

“So even knowing all that, you still choose to run away,” she says matter-of-factly.

Gabe flinches at her words, tucking his gaze away from her. “Yes.”

“Then you haven’t moved on. Not entirely at least.”

Gabe’s eyes snap over to hers as he furrows his brows. “What?”

Tessa sighs. “Look Gabe. You’re absolutely right. If Katrina hadn’t rejected your proposal, we never would’ve crossed paths in a hundred years. But…”

“But what?”

“You still let what she did control you,” Tessa points out. “You say that you’ve moved on, but have you really? I mean, just take a look at what happened last night. The minute we started talking about getting serious, you quickly pushed me away and ran. You did the same thing in Vegas, and you did the same thing at the business dinner too.”

Gabe runs his hand through his hair. “I know I did, and I will always regret my actions. But I’m willing to give us a chance if you still want that. I like you so much, Tessa, and I know the two of us have something special that is worth so much more than a partnership or my insecurities.”

She eyes him curiously. “And what happens if I do give you a chance, Gabe? Are you going to run again?”

“Absolutely not,” Gabe says firmly, his deep tone making her skin jump in shock. “I’m done running away, Tessa. For good.”

Butterflies flood her stomach as her heart swells at his words, but the sensations only make her feel more guilty for what she was about to say. “Gabe, you’re saying all the right words, and I want to believe them so badly. I really do. But…”

The hopeful expression on his face slowly fades as icy dread floods his veins. “But you can’t?”

Tessa nods dejectedly. “I’m sorry, Gabe. But until you actually show me instead of telling me that you really are done running, and that you really want there to be an ‘us’, we can’t…”

Before she could finish her sentence, Gabe takes two quick strides over to her, the space between them shrinking as he gently cups her cheeks in his hands. His thumbs run over her cheekbones, and she instinctively submits to his touch, her mind already forgetting its previous thoughts and focusing solely on the soft, tender caress of his thumbs. She can smell the sharp and heady scent of his cologne, the one that makes her want to bury her face in his chest and breathe him in. She can see each individual eyelash and the sparkling mixture of nerves and pure determination in his eyes. The little puffs of breath from his lips tickle her skin, and her blood rushes and pounds in her ears as she finds herself slipping into his warm, chocolate orbs.

“What…what are you doing?” she asks over the sound of her heart thundering in her chest.

He brings their faces closer together, only centimeters between them. “What I should’ve done a long time ago.”

_________________________

The walls Gabe spent years hiding his heart behind start to crumble as he closes the last inch of space between them. He tentatively presses his lips against hers, a spark of electricity racing through her that makes her scalp prickle. The initial shock of his kiss makes her tense up, a small little whimper coming from her lips, but soon, she finds herself melting into the kiss when Gabe presses his lips firmer to hers. His lips feel like velvet, moving slowly and sensually against hers as her eyes flutter close and her body surrenders to his dizzying kiss. Her arms slide up around his shoulders and tease the little hairs on the back of his neck while he grips her waist and pulls her closer to him, his hand snaking up underneath her shirt and lightly pressing into the bare skin of her lower back. A rush of warmth spreads throughout her body from his touch, and Tessa lets out a small little moan when Gabe gently nibbles on her bottom lip and breaks the kiss. Their foreheads touch together, their breaths mixing as all their unspoken feelings and desires pass between them in this silent, intimate moment.

She shyly bites her lip and looks up at him through her lashes only to see him smiling back down at her, his eyes a swirling cocktail of happy relief and fiery desire. Since growing closer to him, she often caught herself wondering when their first kiss was going to happen and what it would be like, and she would gladly admit the real thing was so much better than her imagination and thoughts. It was full of sensual desire, yet sweet tenderness. It was warm and comforting, yet intoxicating and thrilling. It was gentle, yet confident and sure. It was a kiss full of everything she associated with the man holding her in his arms.

“Now do you believe me?” he asks her as he nuzzles his nose with hers. His voice is laced with his signature cockiness, but Tessa detects a slight hint of worry underneath it.

“I think I need a little more convincing than that.” She was more than convinced Gabe meant what he said earlier, but she found some fun in teasing him a little longer. She considers it playful revenge for making her wait all this time for him to finally acknowledge his feelings.

A low groan vibrates in his throat at the floodgate Tessa’s words opens up inside him, and both of them know there is no going back after this. The tip of his tongue darts out and silkily caresses his lower lip as his eyes darken more, the passion and desire he kept locked away and hidden now flowing through his veins and taking control of his thoughts and actions. Tessa shudders at the sound of his groan and the carnal look in his eye, her nerves switching to high alert as the air buzzes with excitement. His hands snake around her waist and down to her ass, pulling her hard against him and relishing in the feel of her body against his. His firm, hard bulge presses into the apex of her thighs, and she feels it grow harder with each passing second. She subtly grinds her hips into the hardness, a pleasant rush of heat pooling between her legs as soft groans fill the surrounding air.

All of his previous fears and doubts dash out of his mind as he firmly crushes his lips to hers in a searing, heated kiss, molding and shaping her lips to his every whim and wish. Her knees wobble at the sudden assault, but his strong arms wrapped around her waist hold her up securely as the air sparks like a colorful firework and showers them in a bright rainbow of light. Her body molds perfectly into his, like two puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly in the picture. Her mind goes dizzy with delight as her hands run over his clothed chest and come to rest on his sculpted shoulders. He shifts his hips ever so slightly, and the friction makes Tessa groan in pleasant surprise. Gabe takes advantage and lightly teases his tongue with hers as the two of them deepen the kiss. When their lungs scream for much-needed air, he sinks his teeth into her bottom lip and tugs it back, breaking the kiss and leaving them gasping for air.

“Convincing…enough for…you?” he asks her. “Or do…you need a…another sign?”

Her fingers draw lazy heart-shapes over his own heart, feeling it thunder beneath her touch. “I think…I need a little…more.”

She coquettishly flutters her eyelashes and delicately pulls her lower lip between her teeth. The sight makes his cock twitch and punch against the tight confines of his pants, needy and begging for some type of relief, preferably from her. He wraps his fingers around her wrist, halting her movements. Their eyes lock on each other, and slowly, Gabe moves her hand down his torso. She feels the muscles of his stomach subtly flexing and tightening in anticipation, even through the layers of fabric between them. He reaches his belt buckle and stops the movement, his eyes and action asking her the question she already knows the answer to. She gives him a nod, excitement filling up her stomach and making the butterflies flutter. She holds her breath as Gabe guides her hand past his belt buckle, the air becoming thick with anticipation. When her hand finally brushes over his bulge and feels it twitch, the air rushes out of her. Her finger teasingly traces the outline of his bulge, and Gabe sucks in a sharp breath. When she cups him through his pants, the muscles in his jaw tick, head lolling back with a hiss as he surrenders to the sensation of her gentle squeezes.

She runs her palm up and down over his bulge, feeling his cock grow harder and punch painfully against his zipper. With another firmer squeeze of his bulge, the chain holding him back breaks, and with a groan that sounds almost like a growl, their lips find each other again, the built-up passion and desire flowing unrestrained between them as their hands wander and roam over each other’s bodies. Their kisses break momentarily as Gabe’s sweater is pulled off his body and Tessa’s top goes flying across the room. Her fingers try to unbutton his shirt, but when his lips trail down across her jaw and down to the sensitive skin of her neck, she momentarily says “fuck it” and rips open his shirt, the buttons flying across the room and ricocheting off the walls and freeing his naked chest to her greedy fingers. He slides the shirt off his body and tosses it with a groan, feeling more turned on than angry at her action. His lips trail back up across her jaw and find her lips again, their tongues dancing together as the kiss deepens and becomes even more erotic and sensual. Her hands caress over his naked torso, the memory of every dip, ridge, and flex of his muscles becoming firmly ingrained in her mind.

Fantasies from long ago are now becoming real. Any semblance of time and reality escapes them. All that mattered is this moment between them. A moment neither of them wants to end. Ever.

“Gabe…” she mumbles between kisses. “You. Bedroom. Now.” Her fingers slide down his abs until they reach the sensitive sliver of skin hidden just behind the waistband of his pants. When shuddering goosebumps flare up over his skin, he grabs her wrist and halts her movement.

“Wait…” Gabe groans after giving her another kiss. “Are you sure…you want to do this? Because once we start…I don’t ever want it to end.”

The desire and longing in his voice is unmistakable. “Wh…what?”

“I just…” Gabe shakes his head, trying to get his words right. “I don’t want you to do anything or commit to anything you might regret later on,” he tells her. “I want this to happen so much. You know how bad I want you right now, but I understand completely if you don’t want—"

She tugs him forward by his belt and places a hard, chaste kiss to his lips, effectively cutting off his rambling spell. “Gabe, I wouldn’t have given you my keycard if I didn’t want this to happen.” She kisses the tip of his chin, the stubble scratching her lips. “I want this, Gabe.” She presses a kiss on his chest, right over his heart, and the action takes his breath away. “I want you. Only you.”

His grin grows bigger at her admission. “You’re the only one I want too,” he replies, trailing his finger lightly across her jaw that has her shivering in joy.

Her hands slide back up his torso and wind around his neck, deviousness flashing in her eyes. She hops up and wraps her legs around his waist, his strong arms flexing and catching her without missing a single beat. “Then take me into the bedroom and prove it, Ricci.”

He gives her a smoldering look, and with another moan, his lips kiss the hollow of her throat and trail over to her collarbone, his hands squeezing her ass teasingly and eliciting a gasp from her. She rolls her head back and submits to his scorching kisses and kitten bites on her neck as he makes the short journey into the bedroom. He pulls his lips away from her, and with a wolfish grin and a devilish wink, he tosses her onto the giant bed. Tessa senses the shift in dynamic between them at the sudden, but very much wanted, powerful surge of dominance from him. Seeing him confidently take charge was such a turn-on for her and makes warm tendrils coil and tighten in her core. Gabe quickly toes off his shoes while she sheds her shorts and playfully tosses them in his direction with a giggle. He chuckles at her playfulness and snatches them out of the air. When he turns his attention back to her, her shorts slip out of his grasp as his eyes widen in surprise, his cock twitching in extreme pleasure and appreciation at the sight in front of him.

“Fucking. Hell.” He groans, voice gravelly and filled with lust.

His hand reaches down and palms his cock as he drinks in Tessa kneeling in the middle of the bed, wearing nothing except her lacy plunge bra and matching panties as her hair falls over one of her eyes. The sight was so much hotter than the one in his fantasies, and he couldn’t wait to rip away the thin fabric and fully see what she was hiding beneath it. She beckons him with a manicured finger, and with the invitation, Gabe hurriedly climbs onto the bed and drapes his hard body overs hers as he kisses her relentlessly. Her peaked nipples brush up against his chest through the tight confines of her bra, pulsing and begging for his attention. He shifts his weight over to one side, propping himself on his forearm as Tessa wraps her arms around his neck. His other hand slides up her side and finds her breast; Gabe softly squeezes and massages it, his thumb and index finger teasing her nipple through the fabric and making it tight with pressure. A jolt of pleasure surges through her when Gabe pinches her nipple, a rush of electricity traveling through her and making her toes curl.

Her hand slides down and pushes on his shoulder, the weight and control shifting as Gabe falls to his back and Tessa drapes her legs over him to straddle his hips, feeling his hard bulge press against her center. She braces herself on the solid planes of his chest, feeling his heartbeat race wildly and his eyes burning holes into her skin as she grinds her hips against him, a smirk fighting its way onto her face as his soft moans and groans fill the room like a symphony and wrap around her like a blanket. Gabe flutters his eyes closed, succumbing to the incredible sensation of her hips moving over his cock. While he normally is the one to take control and dominate in the bedroom, seeing her on top of him, her hips giving him just the right amount of agonizing friction, and being completely at her mercy is the sexiest thing he has ever seen.

When he opens his eyes again, Tessa sees them glazed over with pure lust and unbridled attraction for her, the magnetic energy washing over both of them. “Goddamn…” he hoarsely whispers, the lust in his voice making tingles spiral down her spine. 

“See something you like?” she coyly asks him.

“Oh, trust me, I don’t like this.” His fingers toy with the lacy waistband of her panties, occasionally dipping underneath and teasing the sensitive skin before caressing down her thighs. “I fucking love it. I think you look…oh shit…” his train of thought trails off as she shifts her hips again, sending another wave of bliss washing over him. “I think you look so goddamn sexy.”

The compliment makes liquid heat pool in her core as the air floods with heated desire and erotic passion. She lightly digs her fingernails into his solid chest, seeing the muscles flex before scratching down his torso, sending another shudder through him. “Mmm…having thoughts about me, are you?”

Gabe cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, I have plenty of thoughts about you. All of them dirty.” His hands stop their teasing caresses and travel up her thighs. “You in my bed begging for me.” His fingers graze over her panties, pulling back the waistband and letting it go with a light snap that makes her gasp. “You wet and pressed up against the wall in my shower.” His hands ghost up her sides until they reach her breasts. “You bent over my desk in my office.” He cups her breasts and flicks the peaked nipples straining underneath the fabric. “You on top just like this, riding me. Hard.”

The images flash through her mind, and the muscles in her core tighten in excitement at the possibility of making all of his fantasies come true. “Who knew Gabe Ricci had such dirty thoughts, or that he likes being controlled,” she tells him as her back arches and her chest pushes further into his massaging hands.

One of his hands snakes up behind her back and expertly undoes the clasp on her bra before carelessly tossing it across the room. “Just because you’re on top doesn’t mean you’re in control.”

She arches an eyebrow at the challenge in his tone. Her hands wrap around his wrists, and with a flash of devious intent, she pins his wrists into the mattress above his head, her breasts hovering teasingly over him, just far enough out of his reach. “Aren’t I though?” she grinds against him again, the friction making their skin hot.

The tip of his tongue darts out and silkily swipes over his lips, her eyes transfixing on the movement. The slight distraction is just enough for Gabe to flip her over and pin her underneath him again. The loose tendrils of his hair cover his eyes, a few strands plastered to his slick forehead, giving him a wild and untamed look, and the look makes her squirm as the muscles in her core tighten. “Told you I was in control,” he shoots back. He dips his head down and teasingly kisses her lips, pulling away before she could deepen it. He guides her arms up and pins them above her head. “Keep them there,” he commands.

“What if I don’t?” she asks him. “What are you going to do about it?”

Gabe groans. “Let’s just say that I reward good behavior and punish bad behavior.” He smirks at her. “But something tells me you enjoy punishments far too much, so I guess I’ll have to come up with something a little different.”

His lips attach to the warm pulse point of her neck, and Tessa sinks into the mattress like it is a warm pool of blissful pleasure. He kisses down the muscle of her neck before licking a wet stripe back up the length of it and giving it little nips and bites as he trails back down. He leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses across her collarbone until he reaches the hollow of her throat. The tip of his tongue traces the outline before placing a kiss directly in the middle of it, and Tessa sucks in a sharp breath. He shifts his body downward as his kisses travel across her chest and down to her breast. He kisses and slowly licks wet circles around her breast, leaving no inch of skin untouched as he comes closer and closer to her nipple with each circle, and Tessa groans at his methodical torture as her nipples throb in pleasure. When he places a kiss directly on her peaked nipple, the air rushes out of her in a moan that sends vibrations flooding through his veins and directly to his cock.

He draws her nipple between his lips and sucks on it while his other hand kneads and molds her other breast, giving her the relief she has been craving from him. He alternates his movements, from sucking on her nipple to giving it gentle little nips and swirls of his tongue while his fingers tug and roll her other nipple. He sharply bites down on her nipple and soothes the sting with his tongue, and Tessa arches hard off the bed at the sweet torture. He shifts his body again as he releases the nipple from his mouth and kisses his way over to her other breast. He gives it the same agonizing torture as the other until both are even more swollen and throbbing. Her hands clench into fists as her eyes squeeze shut, fighting the urge to touch him as every little nip and suck makes her squirm in pleasure.

The tip of his tongue trails down through the valley between her breasts, the action sending blood rushing through her body and making heat pool in her core. As much as she tries to fight it, Tessa gives into the urge to move her hand, and she reaches out and threads her fingers in his dark, soft hair. Immediately, his hand wraps around her wrist and pins it back above her head, and she giggles in spite of herself. He glances up at her through his lashes, and Tessa can see the raw power in them. He kisses his way back up, tongue darting out briefly to flick over her nipples again, and over the hollow of her throat. He softly nips at the center of her neck and traces her jaw with teasing breaths until she feels his hot breath on the shell of her ear, goosebumps flaring up over her skin.

“And you were doing so well,” Gabe murmurs in her ear as he traces the shell of her ear with his tongue.

“You know I don’t do well following the rules.”

He nips at her earlobe. “Then I’m going to make you follow the rules.” He swings his leg over her and climbs out of the bed, her body already missing his warmth. “Don’t move,” he commands. “I’ll be right back.”

He pads out of the room, leaving Tessa lying there a building mess of excitement and nervousness. She hears Gabe mutter a curse before the sound of the TV is cut off, and she giggles at the absurdity of it. She strains her ears to hear anything else, but the only sounds she can make out are soft rustling of fabric and little clinks like glass. After a few more moments that felt like an eternity, Gabe knocks on the frame of the door, and she shifts up onto her elbows to see him standing there, his lips kinked to the side in a smirk and devilish intentions dancing in his eyes. He holds up his hands, and Tessa sees a glass filled with ice cubes in one hand and the belt to the complimentary bathrobe in the other. The thought of what Gabe was planning to do to her with those two items has her quivering in delight.

“I hope you’re ready, Tessa,” Gabe says. “Because we’re going to have some fun.”

_________________________

A/N

So hello everyone! I know this took a lot longer than anticipated, but unfortunately, life decided to throw a curveball at me recently, so I am very sorry for the delay.

For those who might guess, when I finished the 2nd part, it again turned into another 15k mess, so you all will be getting a Part 3 shortly, where we’ll go into even more of some smutty goodness and some fluffy pillow talk.

I hope you all really enjoy it as much as you did for part 1, and I will see you all soon for the finale!

Second chance tagging in case Tumblr becomes Tumbroke again:  @choices-addict @choiceskatie @lady-calypso @chemist-ana @kat-tia801 @chrissythadon @nishas-paradise  @blainehellyes  @suitfer  @pixelnutrookie @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @adiehardfan @panda9584 @curiousconch @weaving-in-words @mm2305 @thegreentwin

[amiedala]

SOMETHING DEEPER (a mandalorian story)

CHAPTER 1: There's Always Three Things

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: sexual content, hints of voyeurism

SUMMARY: HELLLOOOOOOOOOOO AND HAPPY SOMETHING DEEPER SATURDAY MY LOVES!!! this is the first chapter in Something Deeper, the

second installment in the Something More series. in this one, Nova is her established character, they're still trying to save the galaxy, and the spice is racketed up even hotter ;) more notes at the end, as always, and until then, ENJOY!!!

If you're a newcomer, my fic "Something More" is the first installment of this story! <3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HELLO MY LOVES HAPPY SOMETHING MORE SATURDAY!!!! this chapter is quite the whirlwind, i hope you love it! more notes at the end as always <3

*

Novalise Djarin is absolutely certain of three things. One, that the strongest thing in this galaxy is the green alien baby she calls her son; two, that her gorgeous, commanding bounty hunter husband is an excellent leader but a fantastically horrible diplomat; and three, that she is by far the most skilled person she knows at getting out of a particularly sticky situation.

Nova is excellent at getting out of things, period—her husband would argue that she’s an expert at getting the both of them out of their clothes and Mandalorian armor, respectively—but she excels at somehow, miraculously, wriggling herself free from between a rock and a hard place. And, right now, the asteroid belt that makes up Polis Massa is the abundance of rock, and the TIE fighters right on the tail of Kicker’s infamously sporadic power is the hard place.

They’re relentless. Nova squints her eyes, making the starry backdrop of the Outer Rim split and fractal into a thousand more glittering balls of light. There’s only three of them, this time, but this is the closest they’ve ever dared to follow her to Mandalore, and there’s something dangerous and electric kicking around somewhere inside of her chest. They keep shooting, jarring bolts of blasts that do their best to try and knock down Kicker’s very stubborn shields.

“Stupid,” Nova whispers, her breath low, the ghost of a smile stretching across her face, even in the crush of space. A year ago, she wouldn’t have recognized herself—this fearless, feisty pilot, the fully-formed reconstruction of the girl she used to be. On the ground, even with the Force on her side, she’s clumsy, an amateur. But up here? This is where Novalise shines. She has the upper hand out in the stars, and, besides, even if she were being chased by an artillery of a hundred more, there’s reinforcements on her old, lovable beater of a starship.

“Surrender,” one of the mechanical, ordered voices comes over the comm, and Nova giggles to herself in the darkness.

“Does that ever work?” she asks, flipping the right switches to make Kicker drop down and over itself, sending one of the fighters careening into the nearest asteroid. It doesn’t deter whoever’s in the cockpit for long, but it’s enough to utilize her infamous barrel roll to twist up and away from the other two fighters close in tow. “You know, asking impolitely for whoever you’re chasing to surrender?”

Silence. Nova smiles again, biting her teeth down against the fullness of her bottom lip. Her stomach grumbles. It was a sleepless night and a long day she spent back on Hoth before making the short trek back home—Mandalore, which isn’t the kindest of planets to call your own but is undoubtably better than some of the other alternatives—and the broth-based soups and dried legumes that frequent the base there are not nearly as filling or delicious as the feasts that being Mandalorian royalty entail. Still nothing from the other fighters, which is perfectly fine, because she’s about to feign dropping into warp and leading through a wormhole that’ll lead nowhere but the barrenness of the Mid Rim, but usually, they’re much more demanding.

“Surrender,” comes the voice again, and Nova sighs, cracking her neck, readjusting the familiar, worn helmet still stamped with the orange Rebel insignia. Kicker beeps angrily, and she lends a soft hand to the worn metal of her beloved ship’s dashboard, coaxing the metal to just go a tiny bit further.

“I’m just saying, you might have a stroke more of luck if you’re a little bit nicer. Less demanding, more asking. Who am I surrendering to?” she asks, and even though the TIE fighters are still volleying an array of blasts at the back end of the starfighter, they’re not quick to identify themselves. Nova squints again, catching a glimpse of one of them as she swoops to avoid a larger chunk of asteroid. It was stupid to come here, she admits internally to herself, even though it makes her heart drop a tiny bit inside of her chest. All she wanted for the hours she spent on Hoth was to get back to Din, to hold Grogu against her heartbeat for as long as she could before she reluctantly had to relinquish him to the one and only Luke Skywalker, but when Wedge called, it seemed urgent. “Hello?” she whispers, only to dare the strange, affected voice on the commlink to rattle back across the stars.

“Andromeda Maluev,” the comm blurts, and the sound of her name—her birth name, still heavy and pearlescent with the weight of losing her parents—makes Nova’s heart drop even further. Everyone left in this galaxy that Nova associates with—Din Djarin, Luke Skywalker, Wedge Antilles, Bo-Katan Kryze, Boba Fett, Cara Dune, Greef Karga, and every person she met along her trip with Din through the galaxy and back—knows that Andromeda Maluev is dead, and that Novalise Djarin rose from her ashes. But every single bounty Nova’s had on her head has slammed that full weight of her first identity back into her bones, like a brand, like something she can’t escape. It makes the force of people after her—the shadowy legion of the obscured First Order, and all of their cronies—feel just a bit more insidious.

“Not my name,” she volleys back, but the brace in Nova’s voice doesn’t sound like anything dangerous, anything sharp enough scare them off. “I’ve ran into enough of you by now for you to get it right.”

“We’ve got you surrounded. Surrender or be killed.”

Nova snorts. There’s three fighters on her tail, and they’re nowhere close to surrounding her. It’s so ludicrous, so unexpected, that the laugh catapults out of her mouth and echoes in the small hull of Kicker. She wishes Din and Grogu were here to equally share in her utter disbelief—she can practically see the helmet cocking and the baby’s giant, intuitive eyes crinkling—but she dodges another set of shots, which are almost completely aimless and hardly land on the tail end of the ship. “Be killed?” she repeats, swerving and ducking through another large chunk of asteroid, seamlessly, barely paying any attention to the terrain around her. She doesn’t need to. Even in a field this littered, space is Nova’s strongest suit. She could do this with her eyes closed. “As far as I can see, you’ve landed what, three shots? I don’t think you’ll be getting anywhere near close enough to even do damage to my ship. You’re three fighters strong, and one of you has a wounded wing. And you still haven’t answered my question.”

“The First Order demands your services.”

Nova’s blood runs ice-cold. It’s a familiar request at this point, but still, the name sends a very real shiver all the way down her spine, rocking and rattling her vertebrae. She swallows, blinking furiously, avoiding the tailspin of a smaller asteroid as she lurches out of the chase. That wasn’t the lowly voice of some sorry stormtrooper that got the shitty job of trying to wrangle her out of the skies. It sounds evil. Dark. Mirthless. It wasn’t Moff Gideon’s voice, but it was something close to the memory of the dark timbre of it. Fear forms wet and cold on the back of her neck, curling up through the bottom of her hairline, seeping underneath the warmth of her standard, Rebel-orange jumpsuit. She swallows, but the air feels like it’s evaporating out of her mouth.

“The First Order,” she manages, finally, trying to detach the nervousness from her voice, “will not be getting my services. Not now, not ever.”

It’s only been two weeks since Din’s coronation. Two hectic, packed weeks in which her big, brave bounty hunter boyfriend got forcibly turned into a very reluctant diplomat under the watchful—and perhaps slightly resentful—eye of Bo-Katan Kryze. Din never seemed to really need sleep the way a normal human being did, but Nova watched as the bags under his eyes darkened and grew as he spent long hours in the war rooms, buried somewhere in the giant, stark palace they’d moved into, eyelids pressed into the warm hollow of her neck in the early hours of the morning when he made it to bed at all. In the meantime, Nova was spending every single precious second of her waking hours with Grogu, who she knows is on the verge of needing to go back to Jedi training, trying to absorb as much of his small, green light as she possibly can. When Wedge called the other day, though, he sounded desperate, which didn’t happen often, and she had wrenched herself away from her family on Mandalore to try and stop the impending doom of the First Order on Hoth, but it had been yet another dead end. Polis Massa was a pit stop—an impulsive, foolish one—because Nova ran furiously out of the library archives the last time she was here, and she wanted to pick up books on the history of Mandalore for Din and herself, and a small star of yearning in her chest was to spend a little more time in the shelves like her father used to before the Empire killed him.

And as much as Nova wants to put Andromeda Maluev to rest, longing for the days when she was tiny and growing up on Yavin with her parents alive and happy beside her outweighs the alternative. She swallows through the lump in her throat and closes her eyes to shake the starshine of her past lives away. The time to focus on getting the hell out of here is now, all yearning and ache can blossom fully formed when she’s away from the reaches of the First Order, safely back on Mandalore.

“Surrender,” the voice says again, only this time it is the timbre of some sorry stormtrooper and not the one that still haunts her nightmares, and Nova sighs, flipping all of the switches on Kicker’s dashboard to feint left and fake drop into hyperspace.

“I’ll ask you again. When,” she exhales, straightening up in the pilot’s chair, “has that line ever worked?”

“We are granted permission to obliterate your starfighter under Order Number—”

“Obliterate?” Nova interrupts, stifling another giggle. “Is the Order giving you vocabulary lessons? I’m impressed, trooper—”

“Andromeda Maluev,” the voice comes again, and Nova tries her absolute hardest to ignore the pulsing and aching in her heart that comes with the punch of her previous identity, “you are to surrender to the First Order. Failure to comply will result in termination. This is your final warning.”

Nova sighs, pulling Kicker to a temporary halt. If she stares, the ghostly outline of Mandalore, embedded forever in her memory, will flash in front of her vision, even out here in Polis Massa’s gigantic asteroid belt. She knows that the troopers, whoever they are, whoever they’re working for, will understand that she’s intending to go straight back to the strange palace she’s started calling home, but she also knows that any force in this galaxy, no matter how dark, no matter how strong, is smart enough to know they can’t take on a planet full of Mandalorian warriors without all the strength they’ve got. From the way Kicker is paused in the middle of space, she knows it looks like she’s about to surrender, or at least like she’s weighing her options heavily, and the satisfied, smug silence of the trooper on the other end of the commlink is enough to assure herself that her plan—hasty and rash as it may be—is working.

“Okay,” she whispers, feigning resignation, into the comm. “I understand I’m dealing with forces a lot stronger than I am. I don’t surrender, but I’ll come with you. But first,” she whispers, silencing the clicking that the switches to go into hyperdrive with the muffler of her right hand, “I need to tell you something.”

There’s a pause. “So be it. Reeling you in via tractor beam now.”

The unmistakable whirring of a ship forcibly being dragged onto another’s power starts up, and Nova swallows, pushing the second to last toggle into place, keeping a steady eye on the rocketing meter on her dashboard that indicates the ship is fully charged. Under the noise of Kicker being pulled into the largest TIE fighter’s proximity, the beeping goes unnoticed by the other party. Nova slips her hand off the switch and finds the necklace Din gifted her back before he accepted his role of Mand’alor, pressing hard enough that the symbol embosses itself into her thumbprint. “First of all,” she starts, trying her hardest to keep her voice level and even and not reveal a single ounce of the glee that she’s concealing, “my name hasn’t been Andromeda Maluev in a decade. You want me to answer to you, to answer to the Order? You’ll call me Novalise.”

The sigh from the trooper is short, clipped. “Noted.”

“Second,” Nova continues, leveling her jaw with the center of the dashboard, watching every single thruster lock itself into gear, “I am married to the galaxy’s most ruthless bounty hunter. It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than the word surrender to scare me into submission.”

Kicker grinds to a halt in midair. Nova straps herself in tighter, just enough to ensure that she won’t be sent reeling across the perfectly aligned dashboard when she breaks free of the tractor beam and shoots Kicker straight into the stars, back to Mandalore, back to Din, back home, and steels herself.

“Stop,” another voice says, tinny and nervous over the speaker. “She’s—she’s screwing with us, sir—”

“I’m assuming,” the original trooper speaks, trying to intimidate Nova with the ice in his voice, “that there’s a third thing?”

“Oh, there’s always a third thing,” Nova volleys back, eyes catching the light of what’s been powering up the entire time the troopers thought she was weighing her options and deciding the First Order’s clutches sounded warm and delightful, after all. “Not only am I a commander in the New Rogue Squadron, not only am I the wife of the reigning Mand’alor, I contain multitudes.” She grins, her teeth bared and gleeful in the low light of space, knowing this is by far the most badass exit she’s ever attempted. “And do you know what that means?”

The trooper in the largest fighter sounds defeated. This was barely even a scratch compared to the narrow scrapes Nova’s been entangled with before. She bites down on her bottom lip, cracking her neck, taking advantage of Kicker’s stationary position to break free of the tractor beam, and as the angry clamor of the three troopers in the fighters trying to reel the ship in starts to filter across the commlink, Nova does what she does best.

She barrel rolls the entirety of Kicker, flipping downward and over so that she’s facing the three fighters, staring through her Rebel helmet at the floodlights drenching her whole ship in florescence that shouldn’t be possible in space, and shows every single one of her teeth, smile stretched so far across her face that it hurts, “My starfighter is Rebel-made, sure, but it’s gotten a few upgrades in the past few weeks. The only reason you got this far was because I was waiting to unload the artillery loaded up in the guns that are pointed at you right now. And you know what they’re made of?”

“All aim to kill—”

Nova can’t resist. She tries, but this whole royalty thing, the whole leading the New Rogue Squadron thing, this whole being a Jedi thing—well, all of it has been tallied up enough to recognize she can stand to be the tiniest bit cocky to the people trying to kill her or bring her in as a slave. She raises a single middle finger, making sure that the pilot of the largest fighter catches her elongated, elegant bird with the floodlights. “Same thing as my resolve is. Beskar, bitch.” And with that, she punches all the thrusters, Kicker dazzling and evaporating through hyperspace, gone before the first trigger even pulls.

Mandalore is quiet. There’s a strange serenity that lives on the horizon, pulsing and shifting, but never quite tangible from the planet’s surface. It’s hard to look at the place where the greatest warriors in the galaxy are born and bred and not see anything but a whetted, sharp arena, but so much of this planet is soft around the edges. The blue architecture in the capital, for one—something Nova knows is much newer than the ancient history of the land here—and there’s a silence here that teeters on eerie but mostly stays in a strange sense of tranquility.

It doesn’t hold the feeling of abandonment, like so many other planets do these days, but it seems like the rest of the world around the city is disconnected. Inhabitable. Nova parks Kicker in the nearest landing bay, watching the strange haze that hangs over the atmosphere, trying to find other places where lights are lit, where people live, but so much of the planet is quiet. It’s the same sort of stark contrast that Yavin had when her and Din got engaged all those months ago, or Hoth’s anesthetic brutality, but Mandalore’s environment feels different.

And, Nova reasons, as she disembarks off Kicker’s gangplank, running the tips of her fingers over the Rebel insignia hidden under the outermost coat of white and silver detailing, it’s likely because this isn’t home. Not yet, anyway, and it might never have that feeling of belonging that the Crest did, that Kicker does, that her and Din found on Naator and Kashyyyk and Nevarro. Nova climbs the marble steps to the palace, smiling at the stoic Mandalorians stationed outside as she slips up the stairs and through the main entrance, immediately cutting sideways up the hallways to the left, watching as her shadow traipses behind her in the blue dusk, trying to not stake stock of the silence that most of the building holds. In true Mandalorian fashion, their holding cells are built into the palace itself, alongside training arenas and the war room where Din spends most of his time. Nova moves as quietly as she can through the halls, up the other marble staircase, and when she bursts into the chambers twice the size of the starship that she and Din usually call home, a gurgle from Grogu on the floor makes the entire day turn around.

Nova grins, dropping to her knees. Grogu beams up at her, his big bug eyes full of nothing but love, and she scoops him up, pressing his tiny, warm body against her chest. It chases away all the chill of Hoth and the crush of space, and for a second, she just runs her fingers over the top of his fuzzy head, pressing kisses to his green skin, soaking in every second she can.

“I missed you, lovey,” she murmurs, and Grogu’s giant green ears perk up. “What did you do in your day here?”

Grogu pulls away from her chest, pressing a three-fingered hand against Nova’s temple. The visions that used to terrify her, the ones Grogu put into her head, filled with screaming and loss and desperation, fall away as he shows her the bath he took, the feast he got for dinner, sitting on Din’s lap while in the war room. As he drops his touch, Nova grins down at him, all teeth and excitement, all of the panic and isolation of the last few hours melting away.

“He terrorized Bo-Katan,” a familiar voice rings out from behind her, and Nova pushes herself up on the heels of her hands, her heart flipping over with the same butterfly menagerie Din’s always given her. “I didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop.”

“Hi,” Nova whispers, giddy, watching as Din steps forward out of the shadows. It doesn’t matter how many times she’s been lucky enough to gaze over his handsome face, it doesn’t matter that he’s been spending more time helmetless here on Mandalore, every time she sees him, it’s like the first time. In the moonlight, obscured by the permafrost of Mandalore’s blue twilight, Nova’s eyes roam over the valleys and mountains of her husband’s face. His hair is the length it was when he proposed, long enough for the ends to curl up gently. His mouth, even in the near darkness, is pink and gorgeous, his lips slightly parted in the unconscious way they do when Nova’s the only thing in his eyeline. His scruff is there, long enough to scratch her chin—or her thighs—up something terrible, and the ghost of the mustache she used to feel in the dark is strong, dark, manicured. His eyelashes are longer than the length of her thumbnails, and his eyes, his gorgeous brown eyes, soften around the edges the second Nova smiles.

“Hi,” Din echoes, bridging the gap between the two of them with two quick strides, and Nova feels her breath catch in her throat. Din’s hands, gloved in black and twice the size of her own, balance on the curve of her hips, his fingers digging into the loops of her orange jumpsuit, pulling Nova over her own feet, anchoring her body right up against hers. The way he kisses after only being separated overnight is desperate, longing, filled with words he doesn’t always know how to say. Nova leans into his embrace, head fuzzy, waterlogged, like everything else fades away. It does. She loses track of time, how many minutes pass, the stars behind her eyes dazzling, supernovae, regenerated.

When they break apart, Nova’s hand trails over the regalia Din’s wearing. It’s his familiar beskar, the armor he’s worn since they first met, but it’s been cleaned, and underneath, where his typical black undergarments used to cling to his build, he’s wearing Mandalore blue. It’s the color of the skyline at dusk, a faded azure that signals something more than warrior, something a shade closer to royalty. The material is lightweight, practical. It’s the same kind that every single one of her matching outfits are made out of—Mandalorians don’t have much use for aesthetic, it just gets in the way of practicality—but it seems more vibrant on Din. “How was today?” she whispers into the hollow of his mouth, and Din exhales, low and slow, tipping his bare forehead against hers.

“Long without you,” he admits, his voice barely anything. Nova’s eyes search his deep brown ones, trying to figure out where his exhaustion is hiding. “Come with me. I—I want to show you something.”

Nova nods, catching sight of the dirty orange jumpsuit stretched over her tan trousers, the black tank top she’d spent the past year replacing every time Din tore it off of her body. “I should change.”

Din’s eyes flick hungrily over her silhouette, and when he speaks again, his voice is husky. “No,” he says, finally, digging his thumb slightly into the flesh on her hip, “you shouldn’t.”

The trek downstairs is quiet. Both of them move in the shadows, lulled into an easy silence, their hands knitted together in between their two bodies. Nova watches as the low light of the corridor flickers as they cross over another staircase and down a side hallway, entering through the war room by the back entrance instead of the front, even though there’s no one left in here to try to hide from.

Nova’s been in here at least ten times, but the decoration steals the breath straight out of her mouth every time. A glittering holotable, top of the line, at least twenty years more advanced than the one on Hoth, sits in the direct center. The ceiling looks more like a cathedral than it does anything else, which is perfectly fitting for a group of people who treat fighting as their religion. Nova looks up through the sheer domed ceiling, watching as the moody dusk falls into a silent, quiet night. Stars dazzle and shine from above, and even though they’re not nearly as poignant and powerful down here as they are out in space, the direct line to the cosmos is bright enough to make her throat ache. “Wow,” Nova whispers, voice barely anything at all, staring straight upward, mapping constellations under her breath. Eventually, her eyes slide off of the ceiling, traveling over the careful architecture, the shrines in the corners, the murals painstakingly hand-painted across the circular walls, all of beskar and helmets and Mandalorian history. It feels so ancient, even though the palace was recently rebuilt, reconstructed from nothing during both of their lifetimes. She’s been in here a handful of times before, but never as night is on the horizon. There’s something transcendent about this place, this holy center of Mandalorian worship. Something deeper, something divine enough to make a Jedi believe in them, too.

Din’s standing across the other end of the holotable, fidgeting with the controls until a map of the galaxy sparkles to life in front of them. Through the light, Nova watches the peaks of her husband’s face getting caught in the reflections, letting everything except his face blur out to stardust. “Did you get anything from Wedge?” he asks, and Nova blinks her eyes to refocus on the map. “Anything new? Anything…useful?”

Quietly, Nova shakes her head. “He thought—he called me back to Hoth because of a prison break in one of the sectors Cara doesn’t have jurisdiction in, or I’d suspect she’d have already taken care of it. It was small, just a few criminals with nothing more than petty charges breaking out of a hold somewhere, but he thought it might be related to—”

“The First Order?”

“Me,” Nova finishes, quietly. Her eyes narrow just a fraction, refocusing on Din’s silhouette through the glitter of the galaxy between them. “Yeah, the Order. We couldn’t prove anything, but I—”

“You feel something is coming,” Din interrupts gently, stealing the words right out of her mouth, bracing his strong, gloved hands on the side of the holotable, and Nova nods, watching his grip, starting to get a little dizzy, with lust or with the reflections above them or both. “Don’t you?”

“I do,” she echoes, confirming his theory. “I—I took a detour coming back here. I went to Polis Massa, to try and return to the library archives so I could learn more about Mandalore and bring you back something other than a dead end.”

Din stares at her, his face partially hidden in the glow of the rotating image of the holotable. “You brought yourself back here,” he says, finally, and Nova’s knees buckle a little under the husk of his voice. “It’s hard to care about much else.”

Nova bites down on her lip, butterflies swirling up a storm inside her tummy. “Din,” she whispers, leaning forward on the table, cocking her head in the signature way he always does, lifting her chin slightly with the tilt, “we are tasked with the incredible privilege of saving the galaxy, you know—”

“Fuck the galaxy,” Din breathes, and despite the fact that what he’s wanting to shirk is their top priority, and really has been for months, it buzzes inside Nova, wet and hot. “Let someone else handle it for once. I don’t care.”

“You do care,” she protests, weakly, but his tongue slides out from the hollow of his mouth, and everything else seems to evaporate. “I know—fuck, I don’t know, I know you missed me when I left overnight, I know we’ve been apart more than we’ve been together, but it’s for good reason, and when we save, y’know, the whole galaxy and everything, it…it’ll be all the time in the world for the two of us.”

“I’m impatient,” Din counters, roughly, and then he’s around the table in three quick, determined strides. Nova sighs, letting her body crumple a little as Din moves forward, his hands on her hips, anchoring her pelvis against his. “Don’t make me wait any more for you, cyar’ika, I won’t be able to stand it.”

Nova inhales sharply, feeling him harden against her leg, and she lifts her chin a touch more, enough for their lips to only be an inch apart, enough to make eye contact, enough for all of this to let the rest of the world fade right out. “You know,” she whispers, finally, blood pumping furiously, “you’re the leader of this planet. You could order me to do anything, and I’d be helpless to do anything but comply.”

Din lets out a groan, low and desperate, a choked off, guttural one. “And if I told you I wanted you right here on this table?”

Nova grins, her teeth glittering against the quickening darkness, pulling away only to drape herself over the holotable, face down, letting the spots where her body occupies the space filter out of the reflection. The glow of the lights is disrupted by her figure, and she hears Din’s voice catch in the dark behind her as she arches her back, still fully clothed, an invitation for him to come closer, to take what’s rightfully his. “Then you’d have me right here on this table, Mand’alor.”

She feels Din press up against her, hard against the soft, voluptuous curve of her ass. He inhales, heavily, she can hear it whine through the darkness, not hidden under the evenness of the modulator built into his helmet. Nova knows she’s an expert at getting out of things—sticky situations, clothes, everything in between—but right now, she wants to make Din wait beg for it before she complies. Something to prove that even while he’s the one on the throne, her neck is holding up the crown. At least here. Especially here.

“And if I told you I wanted to fuck you on the floor?”

“Then you’d take me on the floor, Mand’alor. I quite like the floor, you know.”

“You—” Din’s breath cuts off again, and Nova lets the timbre of his voice soak into her. It turns her heart over, first, that excitement tangling up with the knowledge that she’ll let him do anything. It’s been over a week since the last time they fucked, because he’s been spending most of his time in this room, trying to prove to the rest of the planet that he’s worthy enough to hold the throne, and she’s been splitting her time between Grogu and saving the galaxy. All of them necessary evils, deserving distractions, but it’s nearly impossible to think about anything other than the feel of Din up against Nova, his mouth on her neck, his hands on her hips, concerned only with burying himself as deep into her as he possibly can. “I brought you down here to show you the stars. You’re distracting me.”

Nova smiles, then braces her palms on top of the holotable, pushing herself up, gliding her body backwards up against her husband’s. “What an honor,” she purrs, quiet, low, the same kind of voice Din always uses when he wants her so badly it hurts to breathe, “that the king of Mandalore thinks I am a suitable distraction.”

“Novalise.”

“Use me as a distraction, then,” Nova continues, taking hold of one of Din’s gloved hands, guiding them against the curve of her chest, making sure he feels how her nipples harden under his touch, a soft, mewling sound with her mouth completely indicative of the flush of warmth rushing between her legs. “Show me anything you want, oh worthy Mand’alor, please—”

Her breath is cut off as Din whirls her around by her throat. It’s sudden, desperate, the kind of electricity he used to greet her with whenever he finally tracked down the bounty he was hunting and could let loose with her on the Crest.

“Get on,” Din starts, voice raggedly, both hands clenching against Nova’s cheeks, puckering her lips, “the fucking throne, cyar’ika.”

“The—throne?” Nova repeats, breathless. “You want—”

“I want to fuck you on my throne,” Din interrupts, and stars above, she can feel the way that his cock is throbbing in his pants, through the regalia, through the beskar, all of it. “You said anything I want. I want to make you scream my name on the planet we rule while I’m seven inches inside of you. That work for you?”

Nothing but a strangled moan comes out.

Din nods. “Good. Get over there.”

Nova reels back as he releases her. It takes more than a few seconds to collect herself enough to move, and when she does, her legs feel like they’re made out of rubber, elastic and wobbly. She can feel his heavy gaze on her as she makes her way around the holotable, and when she takes the few steps that lead to the ironclad, menacing chair that sits atop the highest point in the room, Din’s voice rings out.

“Stop,” he commands, and she does, feeling her heart hammer. “Face me.”

Nova turns, her breath caught in her throat, staring down at Din. The few steps she’s scaled make her just a tad taller than Din is, and she watches as he slowly moves forward, crossing the tile of the floor with quiet, intentional steps.

“Take your clothes off,” Din manages, and Nova’s almost a hundred percent sure that he’s whispering, even though it might just be that she can’t hear anything over how loud her blood is pumping, over how hard her heart is hammering.

“Now?”

He raises a single dark eyebrow, and Nova nods, trying to peel off her shirt and her trousers as fast as she can. She kicks off her shoes, and they land at the bottom of the steps with a very incriminating thud, but Din just kicks them out of the way as he presses the soles of his beskar boots deliberately against the tile. Everything in here is blue and reflective, even after night has fallen on Mandalore, and Nova catches sight of her silhouette in the floor. Her breath stutters in her throat, suddenly very aware that she’s completely naked and Din, save for his forgotten helmet, is fully clothed, but with the way his eyes are roving over her body like he’s starving and she’s the only thing in this galaxy or the next that can satiate it, she forgets how to care.

“You,” he starts, trailing a single gloved finger down the curve of her body, “are so beautiful.”

“Stop,” she whispers, smiling, everything burning and in flames. It’s the opposite of what she means—she never wants Din to stop calling her beautiful, stop revering her, stop treating her like something holy—but when they’re in a public room that just about anyone left on this planet can walk on, and she’s the only one naked, the risk burns hotter than her desire. “Din, I—”

His finger is on her lips before Nova even realizes he’s moved. “Do you believe me?”

Nova blinks, stuttering over the dying words hidden somewhere between her teeth and the back of her throat. The answer is yes, because Din Djarin never utters a single word that he doesn’t mean, because he uses so few of them to begin with, and also because he’s seen every single inch of her body and worshipped it, but in this reflective room, usually full of figures so much more athletic, razor-sharp, warrior-grade, a tiny bead of insecurity spools down the back of her neck. Nervously, Nova’s gaze filters off of Din’s, flicking over to the ornate door on the other side of the room, and when she looks back, he’s staring at her.

“Nova?” he repeats, gently, and something about the way he’s saying it makes tears spring up in her eyes. “Here. Come here. Look at yourself.”

She lets him guide her over to the throne, which is made out of the shiniest, most reflective beskar she’s ever seen, polished so effortlessly it doubles as a mirror, and Din pulls curls of her dark hair away from her collarbone, fingers grazing the new necklace he gifted her, one hand curling around her jaw, the other sliding down the side of her body.

“Look at yourself,” Din repeats, his touch still so light, and when Nova doesn’t immediately obey, his grip tightens. Not hard, just filled with enough desire to snap her back to her senses—that he took her into this room to fuck her senseless, that his eyes don’t meet anyone else’s, that Din Djarin isn’t a pious man in any other capacity than his Creed and all the rules he broke to worship Nova instead. She relaxes under his touch, her eyes glazing as they travel over the valleys of her naked body. Her skin doesn’t glow in the darkness like it does during the daylight, but it’s a rich brown, three or so shades darker than Din’s. Her eyes, a deep sage green that dips into brown in the darkness, glitter as they flash against the beskar. Her eyelashes, dark and tangled up in the corners from where her laughter lines are. Her nose, not as prominent as Din’s hooked, curved one, but big, slightly upturned, and anchored in the center of her face. Her mouth, plump and perma-stained deep pink from where she bites hard on it in concentration. Her hair, so long now that it trails down to where her curved hipbones protrude, woven into a deeper curl than the natural wave of her hair from the braids it’s always tied back in. Din’s hand on her hip clenches gently at his knuckles, and she lets her gaze shift off of her face, down the stocky muscles of her upper arms, slightly sore from twirling Grogu around and from flying out of her skirmish with the TIE fighters. Her hands are long and elegant, princess fingers, her mother used to call them, dainty and slender, nails kept short to flip all the necessary switches on whatever vessel she’s flying, thumbs worn down with callouses from fighting and twirling Luke’s lightsaber around for the last two weeks, trying to conjure the power he radiates on her own. Down the left side of her tummy, which is rounded and collects weight around her bellybutton, is the scar that Jacterr Calican left in an attempt to rip her soul out of her body, and Din’s finger traces over the bump of it, gentle, endearing, protective. Her hips, which are wide, the curves of her upper legs, the muscles that pack on more weight in her calves. Nova looks at herself and sees, just for a glimpse, just for a split second, that sure, she’s not shaped like a Mandalorian, but she’s certainly desired by one. Din pulls her hair back from where it’s settled against her throat, pressing his lips to her skin.

“What do you see?” he murmurs, his voice deep and electric.

“The girl you love,” Nova whispers, grinning at him in their reflections. Din spins her back around, much gentler than he did a minute ago, all the fire gone, his eyes gentle like the oceans on Yavin.

“Damn right,” Din affirms, the timbre of his voice in her ear making goosebumps spark up across Nova’s bare arms. “Now get on the throne.”

She’s giddy. Her heart is, as usual, racing a thousand beats per minute, threatening to hammer right out of her chest. It’s cold—the throne—cool to the touch. As Nova slowly slides down onto the beskar, she watches Din’s brown eyes flash with lust and longing, and his look alone is enough to take away the chill against her bare skin. The beskar warms to her touch, and she crosses one thick thigh over the other, trying to quell the nervousness that’s still whining at the back of her mind.

“Don’t look at the door,” Din orders, his head cocked to the side. It’s been a few months now since Nova’s seen every single contour of his face, but every new expression not hidden behind the helmet makes her stomach lurch up into her throat. Right now, she can see the tenseness of his command in his clenched jaw, but his eyes soften as they roam over her body. “Look at me.”

“Din—”

“Look at me.”

Nervously, she does. The second her eyes meet his, everything else fades away. In the back of her mind, she’s aware that she’s completely naked, her skin up and against something divine, something not meant for her, this throne that she’s about to be desecrated on.

And sweet Maker above, she doesn’t even care. Din slowly canvasses the distance between the two of them, the intensity of his gaze never once wavering off of Nova’s face. The pure look of animalistic desire on his unmasked face makes her whimper under her breath. If she were weaker, she would cower away, avert her eyes, but by this point, she’s earned her brazenness. There are exactly two things in this galaxy that the ruler of Mandalore, the most ruthless bounty hunter, and the man in front of her would do anything for. Grogu and Nova.

He doesn’t make a noise. Everything is an electric wire as he finds his secure, silent footing on the first step, and Nova’s heart catches in her throat. She wants to say something, to make a silly comment, to cut through the tension, but she knows that whatever’s about to follow Din’s ascent will be worth her quiet. Instead, Nova bites down on her trembling lip, watching the rest of the throne room disappear as Din steps closer, still not making a single noise, pulling his body weight up the lip of each step, staring at her.

“What?” she manages, finally, the word all air.

Din moves closer. Nova’s seated against the throne, the beskar suddenly warm against her bare skin. Everything in her is burning. “What do you want?” Din asks, his voice deep, rumbling through her like a honeyed thunderstorm. He doesn’t even have the modulator to filter his words, and even though the deepness of his voice through the helmet runs rivers through her, Nova’s suddenly glad for the bareness of all of this. It makes it easier, dirtier, better.

“I want you,” Nova manages, hollowly, the words surrender out of her parted lips. “Just you.”

“You want me?” Din repeats, and a flash of lust sparks up behind his beautiful brown eyes. There’s something dangerous in his tone, something deeper, something electric. She stares at him, unwilling to break his gaze. If it were anyone else, Nova would think that the timbre of Din’s voice was teasing, but the edge to it suggests towards pleading.

“Yes,” Nova echoes, and Din moves forward, towering over her. She stares up at him as one gloved hand easily notches against her right cheek, eyelashes fluttering as the pad of Din’s fabric-laden thumb traces over the mountain of her cheekbone. “I want you, Mand’alor—”

“I’m not Mand’alor right now, cyar’ika,” Din interrupts, his voice low and ragged, sparking somewhere in his throat. “Look at who’s on the throne.”

Nova gulps. Air is suddenly impossible to come by. Everything in her is electric, alive. Everything else fades out except for Din’s touch. Her doubt, her insecurity—it’s all been chased away and zapped into obliteration by the way Din’s speaking, touching, breathing. “I—”

“Say my name,” Din says, hooking his free hand under Nova’s chin. She swallows, letting the roughness of his gesture manipulate her body in any way that he wants, pliable against Din’s weathered hands. “Say you want me.”

“Din,” Nova squeaks out, and a single one of his dark eyebrows quirks up against the celestial darkness of the throne room, daring her to speak. “Din Djarin,” Nova rectifies, her voice suddenly loud and clear. It booms out, fills the throne room with sound. For once, the buzzing in her head completely drowns out her fear of being discovered. This palace doesn’t exist. Anyone walking the strange, ornate, blue halls doesn’t exist. Stars above, Mandalore itself doesn’t exist at this point. She’s emboldened, as if her will has flooded back, full-force. “Three things. There’s always three things included in how I want you. I want you without armor. I want you without titles. I want you like I had you back on Dagobah.”

“And how,” Din whispers, his voice running through Nova like heat, “is that?”

She gasps as Din’s hand slowly slips down to her throat, bracing itself there. He barely squeezes, and without all of her senses screaming at her that Din’s hand is against her, she thinks his touch would feel like a ghost, like nothing there at all. “Like we belong to each other,” Nova manages, and Din’s grip intensifies. It’s a slip. She can tell, with the way that his eyes roll back, with the way that a moan slips out from the hollow of his open mouth. Stars blur through her vision—some refracted from the open sky up above, and some from the restriction to her airflow, and she leans into the pressure just as Din retracts his grip.

“Cyar’ika—”

“I belong to you,” Nova whispers, the words sounding like a confessional, deeper and darker than she intended. Her hands find Din’s, wordlessly pulling his hand back to rest like a vice against her throat. “Everything in me is yours. Remember?”

Din squeezes again, and the grin that was hiding slowly spreads across Nova’s face. She knows that in the darkness, her teeth glow white, framed by the plump pinkness of her mouth. Din’s standing, still fully clothed, but she can tell by the way his grip tightens against her throat that he’s rock hard under all that beskar.

“Din,” she manages, her voice high and thready through the pressure of his hand, “what do you want?”

“I want you,” he chokes out, guttural and dangerous, his voice coming from somewhere beyond the horizon. Immediately, he pulls Nova to her feet by her throat, eyes flickering carefully over her own gaze to double-check that what he’s doing isn’t too far. She smiles back at him, and when she’s fully standing, smile still plastered across her starstruck face, she drops her grip on Din’s wrist and immediately moves to unhook his armor. She could do it in the dark. She could do it blind. By now, Nova’s memorized every single inch of Din’s body, whether he’s armored in all of his beskar or not. Even the new additions to his regalia since becoming Mand’alor are burned into Nova’s memory, bright and gleaming. She doesn’t break Din’s gaze as she undresses him, pulling the pauldrons off, the chest plates, the silver V of covering that protects his lower stomach and his crotch. It’s over in what feels like seconds, and then the only thing covering Din is the soft fabric of his underclothes. Nova tugs at his trousers first, pulling them down to reveal the silky feeling of his boxers. She positions herself in between Din’s legs, grabbing his right hip to anchor his hardness against her, and he groans out again, the desperate, wet sound filling up the throne room. It's loud. Too loud. The kind of loud that Din never reaches, not unless they’re the only two people on a planet, not unless they’re lost out there in the crush of space. If his cheeks redden at the sound, though, Nova doesn’t catch it, because her touch is too focused, her vision still spinning off starry, impassioned, loud. Slowly, she reaches up through Din’s weakening grip to pull the shirt off of his torso, breath catching in her throat as she takes the King of Mandalore without armor, without clothes, without anything. Nova smiles up at Din, blinking away the small tears of pleasure that gathered in the corners of her eyes, and then she sinks back down on the throne, squaring her shoulders, tossing her loose hair out of her face, eyes full of allure and desire.

“I want you,” she echoes, and then her mouth is on his stomach. Din gasps out, the sound of it ringing out like infernal bells, and Nova hides her teeth as she grins against his stomach, tongue swirling up and down his belly, fingers grazing like butterfly wings across the bones of his hips. She can feel him growing harder and harder as she teases, parting some of the faint hair that trails down his stomach with the wetness of her mouth. Din’s hands find her shoulders, and his fingers clench down, leaving small half-moons imprinted on either side of her neck. “Can I taste you?”

“W—want you,” Din chokes out, his voice demanding and desperate, but the rocking of his hips against her chest betrays him, and before he can make good on his command, Nova’s already slid every inch of him down her throat. She moans in rhythm with him, as Din’s hands leave her shoulders in a frenzy and instead tangle in her hair, wanting. Quietly, Nova swirls her tongue around the base before she pulls off of his cock with a loud, slurping, sucking noise, and she doesn’t even have time to be embarrassed before she’s sinking her mouth all the way down over Din again, the tears that have returned at the corners of her eyes springing back to life. They feel like satisfaction. She can feel him trembling, and when she drops one of her hands between his legs, lightly cupping his balls, Din cries out again. “Nova—”

“Shh,” she interrupts, which is truly a feat, considering her mouth is full of him and her saliva and not much else, “let me finish you here.”

“No,” Din interrupts, and his voice is strangled, muddled. Immediately, Nova does, pulling her mouth off of him regrettably, blinking up at him, lower lip slowly jutted out. “I k—fuck, I know you wanted to finish me like this, but—but I need you to break in my throne.”

A jolt of lightning strikes through Nova’s body, and she shudders as Din’s shaking grip finds the small of her back and pulls her to her trembling feet. For a moment, everything else evaporates, just the two of them breathing and holding each other, Din’s forehead stooped low to press against hers, and then he whirls her around.

Nova’s used to Din’s manhandling, the expert way he spins and lifts her, like she’s made of nothing but air. This is much clumsier than his usual vigor, and when she’s done a complete 180 and is facing her husband, Mand’alor, the big brave bounty hunter, he’s seated on his throne like he owns it, and his hands are on Nova’s hips in the same place where she was sitting a second ago. There’s something deeper and more intense in his gaze right now, something beyond just lust. It’s power, Nova recognizes as Din pulls her hips down, her knees splaying to the sides of the beskar throne. The metal is unyielding against her bones, but still, she doesn’t feel the impact. Din has collapsed her on top of him, the only thing keeping her upward is his grip and her knees trying desperately to cling onto the straddling position that Din’s holding her in.

For a moment, she just stares at him. He looks like divinity, here, something deeper than just another human being in front of him. Nova doesn’t know if it’s the starry sky spinning through the throne room, or because this feels like a holy place of worship, or if it’s just been weeks since they’ve had longer than a handful of minutes at the end of the day before they both fall asleep, too exhausted and dizzied by their work to touch each other relentlessly, but she feels like she’s spinning. Like this has been months in the making, even though it’s only been a handful of days since Din pulled her down over his lap and anchored her hips to his. Her eyes are on his, desperate, searching. When a single hand trails up to brush against her throat, she eagerly leans into his touch, nodding before his outstretched hand makes contact with her neck, skin on skin.

“You want this?” Din breathes, eyes fixed on her open mouth, and Nova nods against his question, his touch, everything.

“More than anything,” she manages, voice throaty and high, stars spinning beyond her eyes. Din nods in assent, and then his hand is gone, a claw rounded around her hipbones, his fingernails sinking into the plushy flesh. The way he holds her as he grinds her down on top of him is enough to make the rest of the world—and every insecurity—trickle out of Nova. When he pushes inside her, slick and warm and so big from this position, she gasps, the sound of it wet and obscene, too loud for the silent room.

“Fuck,” Din hisses, and then Nova starts moving of her accord. She can’t really feel her knees as they dig into the smooth, impenetrable surface of the beskar throne, but it doesn’t even matter. This is worth never feeling either patella ever again. There’s something humming low and urgent in Din’s throat, his scratchy face buried in Nova’s neck, tongue licking and snapping at her most sensitive pulse point. She groans. “You—you’re perfect, cyar’ika.”

“Not perfect,” she murmurs, hands wrapping around Din’s neck and tangling in his dark hair, eyes fluttering open enough to catch a glimpse at it, her fingers long and beautiful as they tug at his hair.

“Listento yourself,” Din pleads, one of his strong, toned arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her down over and over. In any other situation it would be embarrassing, the sucking noise coming ceaselessly between her thighs, but she’s so wet and so close to the edge that she doesn’t try to obscure it, and doesn’t try to fight Din’s insistent, guttural words. “You’re perfect. Everything about you. Your hips, the—the way they move. Your eyes, rolling back into your skull as I fuck you. Shit, Nova, everything about your pussy, I—”

She can feel her cheeks burning. It’s not often that Din is this vocal, this unhinged, especially not in this situation. It’s dirty and forbidden, and as she bounces up and down on his cock, eyes rolled back like he loves, everything wet and slippery between her legs, she forgets all about the fact that they’re naked and desecrating the throne of Mandalore. It’s everything. It’s so much, and when she’s right on the edge of orgasm, Din grinds his hips up into her.

“Din—”

“I want to show you off,” he grits out, and before she can ask him what he means, he’s lifting her off of him like she weighs fucking nothing, pushing himself down to the hilt inside her as she watches the empty throne room, the empty seats around the holotable, watched by the lifeless warriors painted on the wall. She doesn’t try to hide any part of her body. Din’s still whispering every dirty sound he can think of in her ear, one broad arm wrapped around her waist, the other hand tangled up in Nova’s hair.

“To whom?” she asks, the words barely even air. She’s on the edge still, eyes blinking, torso trembling. She wants Din to let her cum so bad, she can barely hear what he’s saying over the pumping rush of blood in her ears.

Din lifts up a lock of hair, the same stubborn wave that always falls in her face, tucking it gently behind her year. For a second, she sees red, legs shaking, completely subject to whatever Din’s doing. “Everyone,” he whispers, and the shock of how guttural and feral his voice sounds sends Nova right over the edge she’d been teetering on. He makes her cum so hard that everything explodes out into the same number of stars shimmering above, divine and dangerous, white-hot, so, so alive. And before she has a chance to gain her senses back, Din’s dragging and rushing as deep into her as he can, every inch of him warm and desirable, and when he lets go to follow Nova over the edge of the cliff they’re both standing on, she gasps as he fills her, hot and thick. It’s so much harder than the last time they fucked, both of them devastated, exhausted, fulfilled.

Nova leans back against Din’s chest, heaving, spinning, trying to catch her breath. They’re both inhaling and exhaling intently, trying to return back to the planet they rule, to the throne they just fucked on. “Well,” she starts, pulling the long waves off her back, looking over her bare shoulder at Din, “wow.”

He laughs, and he’s still inside her, slowly softening as he comes back down from the high of it, pressing his pink lips against her exposed skin. “High praise.”

“It’s the truth,” she whispers, giggling, suddenly remembering where they are. “I—I can’t believe we just did that—”

“We’re newlyweds,” Din interrupts, his voice still rough from the aftermath of sex, and something sparks up low in Nova’s belly as he talks, “plus I’m the ruler of this planet, remember?”

She grins, tipping her shoulder back into his bare chest, trailing her fingers over his tan skin, tracing fault lines she’s never seen but knows are there. “I like power on you.”

“Nova—”

“No, seriously,” she continues. “It’s hot. Do you get a crown, maybe? Do I?”

“I think one of us will have to duel Bo-Katan for that one,” Din groans, and Nova laughs again, sliding off of his lap, slowly pulling together the pieces of armor she discarded earlier, tossing them through the dark air for Din to collect. The mention of Bo-Katan, though, sends a shiver of a reminder down Nova’s very exposed spine. She pulls her own underclothes on, quickly whipping her tank top back over her head, suddenly remembering how cold it is in here when she’s not writhing between the proverbial sheets with her husband. She bites down on her lip, hastily zipping her trousers up, the noise loud and discordant. “Nova,” Din continues, squinting at her, “what’s wrong?”

“Oh,” she says, dazed, tossing the last piece of armor back over to him, “you know, we—we just desecrated a holy part of Mandalore, we don’t know how the hell to fight off the First Order, and Bo-Katan is probably standing right outside that door, ready to kick both of our asses.”

“She,” Din answers, pushing against the heavy beskar doors, “is not here. We’re working on how to stop the Order. And this holy part of Mandalore,” he breathes, walking back towards her, one eyebrow raised, as if he’s questioning the way his face is displaying expression, “is ours to desecrate.”

“When you said,” Nova breathes, staring back at him, everything else fading out, “that you wanted to show me off to everyone—”

Din suddenly looks sheepish, and she giggles. “Nova, I didn’t—I was just into the moment, if you don’t want to—you never have to, I—”

She grins, smile glittering in the dark, sliding past him and into the empty hall, drifting in the general direction of their bedroom. “I didn’t say,” she whispers coyly, holding out one hand for Din’s gloved one, “that I didn’t want to.” She winks, pulling a still-stammering Din behind her. “I just can’t believe you want to share me with anyone.”

They’re up the stairs and back to the entrance to the master bedroom, and Din finally finds his words—or his grip—and grabs her, twirling Nova back into his arms with the force of the bounty hunter that he used to be. “You’re mine,” he whispers. “I won’t let a single person in this galaxy forget it.”

Nova grins, heart doing backflips in her chest. By the time they finally make their way into the suite, it’s dark across the whole wide expanse of sky, and Grogu is asleep in their bed, comically small compared to the king-size that takes up most of the room. “I know,” she whispers, looking back and forth from her husband to their son, a smile etched into her lips. “We should get to bed,” she murmurs, after a second, and Din nods, pulling off the armor and his underclothes in his silent Mandalorian way, Nova weaving her hair back into her usual braid, feeling the bruises from her knees banging forcefully into the beskar throne.

“What’s on your schedule for tomorrow?” Din asks, both of them gently pulling the pillows that line the bed onto the ground, until it’s empty except for their usual spread and the baby’s tiny body. His eyes drift down to Grogu, and so do Nova’s. He knows. She knows. Neither of them want to say it aloud. It’s time for Grogu to go back with Luke and resume his Jedi training, even though none of them want him gone. Nova swallows.

“You know,” she tries, halfheartedly trying to lift her voice into excitement, “Back to business.”

Din rolls over, facing Nova in the darkness. “You don’t have to,” he whispers, and she knows losing Grogu again, even though it’s to Luke Skywalker, even though they’ll be able to fix it, is wreaking havoc on him too. Nova settles down next to him, ears focused only on the miniscule snores of Grogu’s open mouth, her hand finding Din’s, her eyes falling over where Luke’s lightsaber is hanging ceremoniously by the door.

“But I do,” she answers, finally, closing her tired eyes. “We have a galaxy to save. And I,” she breathes, snuggling in closer to the baby, “have a Jedi to see.”

*

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I HOPE YOU LOVED IT!!!! whether you're a returning reader or a longtime lover, i m so happy you're here with Din, Nova, Grogu, and me. i just simply could not stay away from this story, and i cannot wait to go across the stars and back with the second fic in the series!! leave all your thoughts in the comments here, or find me over at tumblr @ amiedala, or scroll through my tiktok @ padmeamydala

CHAPTER 2 WILL BE UP SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 11TH, @ 7:30 PM EST!

xoxo, amelie

[skywalkerstyles]

Skald(Bakugou x Reader)

Part one:

Warnings: werewolf Bakugou, arranged marriage, Viking Bakugou, slightly out of character Bakugou, A/B/O verse, soulmate verse, love triangles

Summary: an alliance is made between the werewolves and humans. That’s all I can say for now

“She’s mad and she’s magic. There’s no lie in her fire.” -Charles Bukowski

“Every single part, is who you’re meant to be, and you were meant for me, and you’re everything I need.” -Skylar Grey

Y/N kicked Asger hard, sending her sparring partner to the ground. She smirked, righting herself and sheathing her sword once more.

“‘S good Your highness. You get better every day.” She basked in the praise. It felt good to be acknowledged as more than just the Chieftain's daughter. She was a warrior, just like her brothers and sisters. “Next time though,” he barreled into her, knocking her to the ground. “Plant your feet. Never let the enemy give you a surprise.” He reached down, helping her back up.

“Thank you Asger. It means a lot that you’re willing to spar with me.” Not many of their clan would. She was.....she was the Chieftain's daughter. If she got hurt heads would inevitably roll. He smiled, nudging her gently.

“Don’t tell your father I was rough with you and we’re good eh?” She laughed. He pulled out his drinking horn, taking a drink of mead before handing it to her. She drank from it gratefully.

“Y/N!” She rolled her eyes, hearing the loud bark of her father. Chief Hagen was a huge man. 6’7, dark hair braided down his back and shaved down the sides, a burly beard and rosy nose. He was intimidating beyond words and Asger quickly turned on his heel after snatching his gourd back.

“faðir(father)” she reached for him as he wrapped an arm around her and hugged her tightly to him, kissing the top of her head.

“barnið mitt(my child). Was Asger rough with you?” He asked. Y/N shook her head.

“No. He just told me to make sure my feet are planted and sparred me a bit.” Hagen nodded, eyes following Asger’s retreating form. He sighed, looking back at his daughter with a smile.

“Your mother and I have something we would like to discuss with you. Will you come home?” She nodded, following behind her father.

Their home was the largest in the village. A big stone building with wooden posts and a solid foundation. Oydis, Y/N’s mother, was outside, shelling green beans with her grandmother. Nana Rhigda smiled at her as they approached.

“Nana.” Y/N said, stopping to kiss the older woman on the cheek. Her skin was withered and cold beneath her lips.

“Sweet girl,” her mother said, garnering her attention away from her grandmother. “We need to speak with you privately”. Oydis held out her hand, gripping her daughter firmly as the three of them walked into their home.

Katsuki was shifting back into human form when his father came to collect him. The boy was pulling his trousers up his legs when he turned and saw him, Chieftain of their clan, walking towards him. Katsuki paused his movements, set on edge by the look on his father’s face.

“Good hunt Katsuki?” he asked. Katsuki nodded.

“Three deer. ‘Spose itll be good for winter once the women dry the meat out.” He had caught two of them. He loved the thrill of the chase, attacking something, wrestling it to the ground and tearing it apart with his fangs. The power was intoxicating.

“That’s good...care to go for a walk?” this surprised Katsuki further. He was never asked to go on walks with his father unless the conversation was serious and needed to be away from prying eyes. Katsuki followed him down the stony path towards the ocean, where the long boats sat on shore, gazing out at the horizon.

“Is everything alright?” he asked. His father nodded.

“The pack is doing very well. We’re thriving actually. But you know as well as I do that, that can change in a moment.” He snapped his fingers. “‘S why alliances are so important. Especially for Werepeople. We aren’t human. And humans can be fickle things. They let fear run their heart and they hate anything they don’t understand.” they stopped infront of one of the boats, His turned to look at him fully. “‘S why I’ve made an alliance with the Helvig Clan...you’re to marry their eldest daughter, Y/N, within a fortnight.” Katsuki’s heart nearly burst out of his chest, he looked at his father with wide eyes.

“W...What?”

“No….I...I’m not ready to marry.” Y/N said, shaking her head. Oydis put her arm around her daughter, rubbing her thumb against Y/N’s shoulder to try and calm her. Her father stood in front of her, face stern and unchanging.

“It’s already been decided.” Hagen said. “It….Its our life on the line sweetheart. Or family. Our tribe. This alliance is a powerful one. With Werepeople on our side we can be unstoppable.” Y/N shook her head, tears falling down her face.

“I don’t...I don’t want to marry someone I don’t love.” Hagen swallowed hard. He loved all of his children, and if there was another way, he would take it over his daughter’s tears in a heartbeat. “You will meet Katsuki tonight at dinner.”

Hana waited by their tree. It was a little after the time they had set to meet and she worried. Katsuki was never late. Not when it came to meeting, their secret moments when they could be alone together.

She was picking petals off a flower when she heard his familiar footfalls, turning to launch herself into his arms. He caught her and held her tightly, pressing soft kisses to the skin of her neck.

“Hello my love.” he whispered. His heart was breaking but he kept up his composure. It was Hana he wanted to marry, to be with. But those dreams had been shattered with one conversation.

“Katsu?” she whispered, pulling back from him, she kissed his cheeks, as he rested his forehead against hers. She smelled heavenly. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re going to hate me.” he mumbled. She shook her head.

“Never darling. What’s wrong?” He took her in, studied her dark hair, the bright blue eyes, soft pink lips. What other woman could compare to her. The girl he had loved for three years now.

“I’m to be married.” Hana felt as though someone had struck her hard across the face.

“W..What?”

“An alliance. I’m to be married within a fortnight.” Now Hana couldn’t stop her own tears. Katsuki held her close.

“I love you.” she cried into his shoulder. He nodded, swallowing thickly.

“I know.”

Y/N was nervous. She had never been interested in anyone and no one had ever fancied her before. But her mother and grandmother bathed her, washed her hair and placed perfume on her body. They put a crown of white lilies in her hair and a maroon satin dress on her. Oydis placed her hand on her daughter’s rosy cheek.

“You look beautiful my girl. Absolutely stunning.” Hagen stuck his head into the room, mouth parting slightly when he saw his eldest daughter. Gone was the tomboy he adored, now stood before him a young maiden, ready to be married off. It broke his heart a little.

“They,” he cleared his throat. “They’re here. Is the meal prepped?” Hagen couldn’t look at his daughter. He would cry and he couldn’t do that.

“Everything is ready son,” Rhagid said, waving him away. “Bring them in and we will bring her out.”

It was a smaller village than their own, but it looked quite cozy. Katsuki walked stiffly beside his father, as His father led him to the largest of the long houses. Before knocking He turned to Katsuki.

“I know this is hard for you son….but with time comes love. If you don’t love her now you will. It did for me and your mother.” Katsuki looked at him in shock.

“You...you and mom were-”

“Arranged? Yes. And I was a horrible husband in the beginning….” he ran a hand through his hair. “I loved another before her you see? And I kept going back to her. I didn’t….I refused to see how it hurt your mother. Until the day she threatened me with divorce. We managed to work things out, and I fell for her madly. But in the beginning I never gave her a chance.” he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, looking him in the eyes. “All I’m asking is, give her a chance. You’re a good man. Be a better man than I was to your mumma.”

Hagen opened the door to his home widely and warmly, smiling at the fellow Chief and nodding in respect. He looked at the boy that would be marrying his daughter. He was about 5’7, blonde spikey hair, and brilliant red eyes. He nodded at Hagen who did the same in return before welcoming them in.

“Smile darling. It’s not the end of the world.” Oydis said softly to her daughter. Hagen shouted from the main area, bidding them to come. The women stood, the older two exiting first and then, the girl to be married.

Katsuki’s breath came out sharp and short when his eyes met his bride’s for the first time. She was a beauty, beyond anything he could have imagined her being But there was something else, something warm that he had never felt with Hana. This woman’s scent called to him, it was of honey and brown sugar, of lilies and roses. It was intoxicating.

“May I present my daughter? Y/N.” Hagen took his daughter’s hand, bringing her forward. Katsuki felt his father’s hand on his back, pushing him forward as well. Hagen reached out, holding his hand out for Katsuki, who took it blindly, he was still gazing at his wife to be. When Hagen placed their hands together, warmth shot up Katsuki’s arm, causing him to shiver. Y/N’s eyes went wide and her breath stuttered, she was most likely feeling the same thing he was. When she finally looked him in the eye he nodded, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Hello.”

Dinner was an event. The men were rowdy. Y/N’s brothers talking and laughing loudly with Katsuki and his father. Katsuki liked to boast and brag. That was the first thing she noticed about him. He bragged about his victories and hunts, pridefully puffing out his chest. Hagen seemed to get along well with Katsuki’s father and that eased Y/N’s fears a little. Her father would never give her to someone who could hurt her. He loved his girl too much and she was the only daughter.

Katsuki sat close to her but didn’t speak much to her, and when she tried to engage him, he cast her off, rolling his eyes. But with one stern look from his father he stopped, swallowing hard as he looked down at her.

“After dinner, we can go for a ride. I mean….if you’re not chicken shit?” Werewolves courted in a different way than humans, usually going for hunts and runs together to bond. But a werewolf had never been mated to a human before, so Katsuki was a little lost. But if she would trust him enough to go for a ride, maybe things could be good. If they could not be lovers, they could be allies.

Y/N smiled, nodding her head. “Will you shift?” she asked. Katsuki snorted, taking her hand in his.

“Of course. It’s the only way you’d be able to keep up.” she narrowed her eyes slightly, challenging him a bit.

“Don’t underestimate me.” he laughed again, placing an awkward kiss to her cheek. This surprises even him, he hadn’t meant to be so forward. But he didnt mind her. She was kind and could keep up with his banter. So she had that going for her.

“I would never.” the two of them stood, unnoticed by the dinning party, who were telling stories and passing around the drinking gourd. Katsuki led her outside and they walked the small path towards the woods. Once shrouded in darkness he let go of her hands, taking a few steps back away from her.

“Look away. Don’t want you to see.” Y/N turned, squeezing her eyes shut as she began to hear the snap and crack of bone, Katsuki’s grunts and growls becoming more and more animalistic as the snapping increased. And then there was silence.

Y/N felt breath, hot and heavy on the back of her neck and then something wet nudging her.

Katsuki was worried that seeing him in wolf form would frighten her. But she gazed at him curiously, studying him. He wished he could speak to her, but she would’t hear him. She wasn’t a wolf, there was no link there.

“You are….magnificent.” she whispered. He was huge, with shaggy yellow fur, his red eyes glowing as he watched her. She reached out, hesitating just as she was about to touch him, Katsuki bowed his head, grumbling lowly when she scratched behind his ears. She made him feel dizzy, lightheaded.

“Be a better man than me.” Katsuki decided he would. He would treat his little wife with respect at least. He would do the best he could.

[boredompaw]

Jayvik fanfic recs, but make them all sad

(major character death sad)

"Time was never kind to him, but now, it had stopped his labor on what couldn’t be looked at...and started attacking what everybody was seeing, carving his traits, adding fine lines on his face as if he was a sculpture, painting his hair, tinting them with white as if it was a canvas, making art out of his damaged body, a walking oeuvre for the world to see."

Sorry for the long quote, I had a very hard time trying to pick a quote from this fic because I absolutely ADORE everything about it, every single line. The author is Silekim, and while they state that english is not their first langauge it's honestly better than anything I could produce with english as a first language. The premise of the fic is an aged up Viktor (45 in here I believe) who is reflecting on his life so far, especially through the lens of his battle with his terminal illness. Full disclosure, all the fics I have on here either suggest character death or have character death. So. Yeah. It's all hurt/no comfort. I like that kind of thing. The writing style of the piece is lovely, where each sentence has this really delicate cadence and flow to the sentences, where they just bleed into one another. The author really manages to set a very lonely melancholic atmosphere. It makes me think of locking yourself in a room with a window and seeing the sky slowly fade from dusk into night as you contemplate your own mortality. I also think the author really managed to capture Viktor and Jayce's distinct personalities through the narration and also through the brief bits of dialogue. It's quite potent and portrays the pain and nostalgia of a time far gone really really well. Anyways you should definitely check this one out if nothing else. You won't regret it, and if you like sad things like me, you'll probably enjoy it. I'm also in the process of drafting a comic spread for this fic because I love it so much hehe maybe look out for it some time in the future. Maybe not too soon because college app deadlines be rolling around but whatever.

"Viktor is gone, they tell him. Viktor is gone and you were not enough to stop it. Their voices sound, a dead man’s chorus. It’s only gotten worse since he’s stepped inside."

Neon_Sunset's fic is written from Jayce's POV as he has to sort through Viktor's things, and discovers a set of unsent letters. The reason for this? Viktor is dead. It's a quick snapshot of fresh grief, made worse by being surrounded by the possessions of a lost loved one. While the writing itself does not read as lyrically as the fic above, it's still a wonderfully heartwrenching read. It's about 2k words, so it's a fast one as well, but it still packs a punch.

In the letters Viktor leaves behind, they're addressed to three different characters, each with their own perspective. The insights are brief and leave a hunger for more-- that's what makes them hurt: the words left unsaid and never to be known again, things words could never truly convey to those left behind.

The author's writing also conveys a strong sense of Viktor, despite him not being there. That's the point of the setting, which takes place mostly in Viktor's apartment. The descriptions of the setting are laced with tiny little details of personality which aren't much by themselves, but through Jayce's lens and the reader's knowledge of the backstory, it creates a portrait of Viktor, albeit without him actually there.

If you're looking for something to make you feel something, but not tear your heart out completely, I'd say this is good choice for 3-5 minutes of painful entertainment! Go read it and give the author some love~

"'Please,...please. Let it be on my own terms. Not—not hooked up to machines in some hospital room. If you love me, at least allow me this one dignity. Do this for me.'"

Alright, here me out. I've already plugged this one like twice already, but a) it's great and deserves more love and b) I want a list of these in one place, one post, so suck it.

Moving on, I want to say I've reread it too many times and love the shit out of this fic. It's not too long, but one aspect I love about it was how the author chose to intersperse the paragraphs with "letters" from physicians and otherwise. It's hard to describe, you kind of have to check out the link, and not on mobile. It doesn't show up properly formatted on mobile :/ The letters add a certain elegance to the fic, where it conveys the passage of time and changes to Viktor's health through the view of a third party without detracting from the focus of the piece: Jayce and Viktor's relationship.

We get to see how in the background, the pair of them search with mounting desperation and declining hope for a cure to Viktor's illness. The letters' impersonal remarks and recommendations for Viktor serve to highlight the brief snapshots of interactions we get to see of the two. You can tangibly feel the pain Jayce feels as he watches his partner waste away, lose his dignity, and everything he's worked for, while Jayce is incapable of doing anything to ease Viktor's suffering.

It's something that's all too easy to relate to and feel within your core, especially if you've been there to experience parents/grandparents or family members who have gone through the same kind of ordeal.

Coming back to the fic, fear not! While it's one of those hurt/no comfort, the ending is also a beautiful little thing, wrapping up the fic to end on a slightly hopeful note. Overall a great quick read, 100/10 would recommend! This and "time was never kind" are my favs hehe

i mean i would also try to draw this out in comic form but break's closing and while they say a picture paints a thousand words, i honestly feel this one's better conveyed in words, and my art skills are definitely not up to par for drawing faces with different emotions than "neutral pout"

"Nothing, nothing but the stench of sick-sweat and blood, harsh and acidic and stinging eyes, his nose. Nothing but the cold skin beneath his fingertips, still as the grave, hours dead"

A very very very quick fic about an emotionally charged moment. One that passes as fast as it comes-- although the grief is sure to linger. While there's not much in terms of plot, I thought the little descriptions were heart wrenching and atmospheric. It's made especially real since it's written based loosely off the author's own personal experience. Give them a little love and condolences~

WOOhoo finished after a whole day of grinding jesus. I need to do my work but I couldn't start until now because I need to appease the monkey brain that screams for arcane content every day before I can start being productive.

[blackswan18]

Too Good To Be True - Ch. 27 | kth(m)

Summary: Kim Taehyung is a world famous idol in the hit K-pop group, BTS, and you are his personal stylist. Per your contract with Big Hit, he is absolutely, 100% off-limits, and yet, you are completely and hopelessly in love with him. You’ve spent years trying to shove your feelings down, but it’s getting harder and harder to ignore and hide them, especially considering the way Tae always treats you. He’s affectionate and protective and sometimes outright flirtatious, but that’s how he is with everyone, right? Confused, frustrated, and lovesick, you find yourself wondering if it might finally be worth risking your career and your heart to find out.

pairing: Taehyung x reader

genre: Idol! au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, friends to lovers, slow burn

rating: 18+

word count: 4.0k

warnings: cursing, heavy petting, mentions of character death

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Chapter 27: The Real World

Seventeen days.

It had been seventeen days since you had last been with Tae in any meaningful capacity. Seventeen days since you had last been alone with him. Seventeen days since he had last held you in his arms. Seventeen days since you had last felt his lips on yours.

It had been the longest seventeen days of your life.

Figuring things out back in the real world was infinitely harder than either of you imagined it would be. Over the course of just those three days at the Dynamite music video shoot, you two had managed to completely destroy the emotional dam you had spent the previous three years carefully constructing. Everything was now pouring out, and there was absolutely nothing you could do to stop it, but it was all just flowing into the abyss since you couldn’t actually be together.

Having to act normal and casual everyday at work like nothing between you two had changed was incredibly difficult and honestly painful. You wanted to openly comfort him when he was stressed or upset. You wanted to hold his hand or hug him when you were having a bad day. You wanted to give him a kiss hello when you first saw him every morning and kiss goodbye before you left for the night. In a million ways you wanted to be close to him and show him affection, but you couldn’t and it was absolutely killing you.

If you had been able to see him outside of work it would have made the façade you had to uphold at work more bearable, but you couldn’t even do that. With the single coming out in just a few weeks, the full album being released not long after, and a month-long promotional trip to America scheduled to kick off days after the album was released, the guys’ schedule was busier than ever. Every single day, including weekends, was jam-packed with dance practice, vocal coaching, performance rehearsals, interview filming, photoshoots, meetings to finalize album details and the promotional tour, and so much more.

Most nights, Tae wasn’t finishing up work until almost 8:00 or 9:00, but that wasn’t even the worst part. Immediately after filming for the Dynamite music video had wrapped up, the decision had been made that the guys would all be living back in the dorm for the time being. This was done partly to keep everyone focused during the final stretch of the comeback, but mostly to keep everyone on the same schedule and make travel more convenient. Even Namjoon, who was married, and Jin, who was engaged, were staying there most nights of the week. Jimin and Hobi got to leave once a week to stay with their girlfriends, but since Tae obviously couldn’t tell anyone you two were together, he had no legitimate excuse to stay back at his own apartment.

You two texted all the time, and he called or Facetimed you whenever he could without being overheard by one of the guys, but it just wasn’t enough. You found yourself missing him constantly, longing for him in a way you never had before. You missed him even when he was right in front of you at work because, even though he was so close, he still felt so far away. You always missed him most at night, though, a feeling which you knew went both ways.

[Taehyung 2:14 AM] I miss you so much, Jagi.

[Taehyung 2:14 AM] I can’t sleep without you.

[Taehyung 2:15 AM] I just want to hold you again and wake up beside you.

You had woken up to those text messages one morning and immediately felt a literal pain in your chest because you felt the exact same way. Even though he had only stayed with you twice, you found yourself feeling unimaginably lonely each night without his arms around you.

You just wanted to be with him. To spend time with him as a couple, however unofficial that title was. To talk to him without having to filter and censor everything you said. To love hearing him call you Jagi, not worry constantly about that word slipping out of his mouth around someone else. To watch a movie or cook dinner or stay in your pajamas all day together. To laugh and be playful and flirty without someone yelling at you to stop. To cuddle and kiss and be intimate.

The abundance of physical contact you’d gotten during those three days, and subsequent absence of it these last two plus weeks, had left you desperately craving him, absolutely starving for his touch. You had obviously always found Tae insanely attractive, had always desired to be with him, but previously that had only been in a theoretical, abstract sense. Now, though, the concept of being with him was real, never more so than the second day of filming for the Dynamite music video, the last time the two of you had been truly alone together.

The morning had begun innocently; you had woken up first in his warm embrace and then proceeded to pepper his face with tiny kisses until his lips curled up into a shy smile and his eyes opened a few moments later. Shortly after that, you began sharing slow, tender morning kisses, ones that made you completely forget that a world existed outside of the bed you were sharing. However, when you casually mentioned that the lace panties from the day before came with a matching bra he unfortunately didn’t discover, the situation escalated quickly. The kisses became more passionate, his hands began wandering underneath your tank top, and the next thing you knew, you were on top of him, straddling his hips.

From that new position you could easily kiss his deliciously thick neck, something you had literally dreamed of doing for years. You began just below his ear, smiling to yourself when he cursed over how good it felt to be kissed there, and then worked your way down to his broad chest. As you covered his body with kisses, you began rolling your hips, subtly at first, but more purposefully once you saw, heard, and felt just how much he loved it. He brought his hands to your hips to help guide you back and forth over himself, but you were clearly in charge, slowing down and speeding up at will just to relish in how needy he grew beneath you.

It was all fun and games teasing him like that until he suddenly used those big muscles of his to flip your positions, the overt display of dominance being something you found incredibly sexy. Now on top and in control, it took him no time at all to discover how sensitive you were, the small gasp you let out when he applied just a bit of pressure with his hips bringing a smirk to his lips. You knew you were in trouble when he shifted slightly and brought his thigh between your legs. As he began slowly grinding into you, he hungrily swallowed the string of curses and small whimpers that left your lips.

Were it not for your ‘15 minutes until bus departure’ warning alarm going off a minute later, you’ve no doubt he would have soon had you coming undone. So enthralled with the way your body was responding to him, he didn’t even hear the beeping at first. He simply kept going, kept on whispering sweet nothings and praises into your ear as he slowly rocked his hips. You had half a mind to ignore the alarm and your responsibilities entirely and let him continue, that’s how good he was making you feel. However, you used all your willpower to gently push him off of you, telling him if you two didn’t stop now, you were literally never going to be able to leave the bed.

Had you known that the passionate kiss you shared just before he left your room was the last one you were going to get for a while, you would have made it last a little longer, would have savored it just a bit more.

~~~

Today, the seventeenth day since you’d last been with Tae, was significant for two reasons.

First, it was the day of the new album’s concept photoshoot. A shoot like this was always important, but this one was especially so because Tae was serving as the Visual Director. Taking on this role was a huge opportunity for him to showcase his many other artistic skills outside of singing, dancing, and performing. You were so proud of all the hard work he had put into planning everything and knew how nervous he was for the photoshoot to go smoothly. Even if you couldn’t show your support the way you wanted to, you were still determined to be there for him throughout the day, which is partly why you didn’t tell him the other reason why today was significant: that it was the five year anniversary of your mother’s death.

You had been thinking about her a lot lately, mostly wishing you could talk to her about what was happening with Tae. You wanted her advice and guidance, her assurance that you following your heart right now wasn’t the biggest mistake of your life. If anyone could have helped you navigate through the challenges you were facing now, and would surely face in the future, it would have been her.

In previous years, you had taken this day off to be with your dad and your sisters. You would visit her grave together and then relax at home cooking her favorite dinner and watching her favorite movies. But this year, with it falling on the exact same day as a major photoshoot, you just couldn’t swing it. You honestly hadn’t even tried to ask Mrs. Choi about taking the day off; you knew all she would have done was make you feel guilty and question your commitment. Your family had understood, though, and the four of you had made plans to remember her together over the weekend.

When you told Tae the story about your mom, you had mentioned she passed in late summer, but never told him the specific day. Over the last few weeks you had gone back and forth about whether or not to tell him today was that day, but had ultimately decided it would be best not to. You didn’t want him to feel guilty that you had to be working when you would have otherwise been with your family and also didn’t want to stress him more on his big day. More than that, though, you were afraid of how he would act if he knew. You worried that he would be unable to stay on his side of the invisible line you two drew between yourselves at work, that he would be too affectionate and protective and would inadvertently give you two away.

The day had started off OK. The shoot was taking place not far from Big Hit at an indoor studio where the set had been constructed. Being somewhere new was a welcome distraction and it was busy enough throughout the morning that your mind stayed relatively occupied. Tae still realized something was off right away which shouldn’t have been a surprise. He eyed you curiously the whole time you were doing his hair and makeup and asked no less than fifty times some variation of ‘Are you OK?’. You just smiled back at him, though, and assured him you were fine, just a little tired perhaps, which you hoped he believed.

However, as the day went on, it became harder and harder to focus and keep it together. Your mind began drifting elsewhere, to thoughts of your mom both before and after she got sick, to the dark days that followed her passing, to all the questions you wished you could ask her right now. At one point, after you had looked up to find Tae looking at you from across the room, a slightly concerned expression on his face, the thought that she would never get to meet him crossed your mind and you got momentarily choked up; she would have loved him.

Eventually, it all became a bit too overwhelming so you stepped off to the side of the set and pulled out your phone. Hoping to take your mind off things with some mindless social media scrolling, you opened up Instagram, but the first photo you saw stopped your heart. It was you and your sisters and your mom, smiling together at the beach, your dad’s shadow as he held the camera just barely in the frame. Your younger sister had posted it earlier that day along with what you were sure was an incredibly heartfelt message that you absolutely did not have the stomach to read right now.

It was one of your absolute favorite photos, a memory from a truly wonderful day before everything changed, but it was not something you were prepared to see just now. At once, you felt the all too familiar closing of your throat and stinging behind your eyes, telltale signs that you might start sobbing at any moment, but you forced yourself to shove your feelings down. Now was not the time to have a complete and utter breakdown.

Stopping by the lunch table to grab a coffee, the caffeinated beverage ironically always helped you relax, you headed back to the prep room to try and calm down. As you turned into the room, you saw none other than Tae standing at one of the mirrors. He was fiddling with one of his earrings, happily humming one of the songs from the upcoming album, but when his gaze met yours through the reflection his smile immediately faded. In an instant, he was crossing the room to you, worry etched all over his features.

“Jagi,” he whispered as he leaned in close. “Please talk to me.”

Just hearing his voice and having him near was almost enough to break the dam. You wanted nothing more than to be in his embrace right now, to hear all the sweet words of comfort you know he would give to you.

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” he pleaded when you didn't respond.

“I’m fine, Tae,” you said back, your lower lip trembling.

“No you’re not,” he said, sounding so distraught. “Something is wrong. Something has been wrong all day.”

“Did I do something to upset you?” he then questioned fearfully.

You shook your head at him, silently willing him to stop asking questions before you completely lost it.

“Do you not feel well?” he then asked, sounding more worried than ever. “Did someone say or do something to hurt you?”

“Tae, I’m fine,” you replied. You tried to say it calmly, but when your voice broke on the word ‘fine’, Tae’s eyes went wide in alarm.

He instinctively reached out to put his arms around you, but your hands immediately shot up to stop him, the coffee cup flying out of your grasp in the process. It fell directly onto Tae’s white shirt and then crashed to the floor. Looking first to the complete mess on the ground and then to the massive stain on his shirt, your composure finally cracked.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you said as tears welled up in your eyes. “I ruined your shirt and you haven’t finished shooting yet.”

“Jagi, it’s OK. It's just a shirt. Really, it’s not impor-,” Tae started before being cut off by Mrs. Choi’s shrill voice.

“Y/N, what have you done?” she asked venomously, coming from somewhere in the room where you didn’t realize she had been standing.

You looked up at her, saw her angry, disgusted expression, and immediately shrunk into yourself. If it was any other day you could have handled her, could have brushed off her attack, but not today.

“You’ve ruined an outfit that cost thousands of dollars and jeopardized the whole photoshoot,” she then said snidely, answering her own question. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry,” was all you could manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You have been distracted and careless all day long,” she continued as she stared daggers into you.

“I’m not even surprised something like this happened, though,” she went on, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “You are always distracted and careless. You never focus or take your work seriously. Honestly, you are a complete disgrace to this-”

“Enough!” Tae suddenly said, cutting her off sharply as he turned to face her.

Mrs. Choi blanched, having never heard Tae use such a tone with her or anyone else for that matter.

“For the last three years you have been dismissive, overly critical, and downright rude to Y/N and I will not tolerate it anymore,” he said heatedly. “You may be the stylist’s manager, but she is my stylist and I will not let you speak to her this way.”

“Your constant beratement is not only unprofessional, but completely unfounded. The quality of her work is excellent; she is talented and hardworking and extremely dedicated to our team,” he continued as he shifted in front of you slightly, shielding you from her.

“Just look at what she did with the Dynamite music video. Everyone was so impressed with her concept idea, and saw how hard she worked, but you never once complimented her or appreciated her efforts. All you did was criticize her and belittle her and make her doubt herself,” he then added angrily.

For a moment it looked like Mrs. Choi was going to say something in reply, but before she could get a word out Tae continued.

“What happened just now was an accident that I clearly caused,” he said, gesturing to the mess on the floor. “If you would have taken two seconds to stop yelling at her and talk to us you would have realized that.”

“But, more importantly, if you had been paying attention at all today to the stylists you’re supposed to be managing you would have realized hours ago that she has been extremely upset about something all day and is genuinely not OK right now,” he finally said, now looking incredibly distressed himself.

You stood there in stunned silence, tears still threatening to fall, as your gaze flickered back and forth between Tae and Mrs. Choi. His chest was heaving from the exertion of his outburst while she was motionless, a look of complete shock on her face. Upon remembering you were still here, though, she turned to you with an unmistakably guilty expression on her face.

“Y/N,” Mrs. Choi began apprehensively. “Is something wrong?”

You hesitated for a moment before answering, unsure how to respond, but eventually decided to just go with the truth.

“Today is the five year anniversary of my mother’s death,” you said quietly, wiping away a few tears from your cheeks with the backs of your hands.

Knowing how devastated he would be to learn this, you purposefully didn’t look at Tae as you spoke, but the audible gasp he let out was more than enough to shatter your heart.

“Normally I take this day off, but I knew how important the photoshoot was so I didn’t want to let everyone down,” you went on. “But, clearly I’ve done that anyway.”

It was quiet for a few moments as your admission washed over them and, surprisingly, it was Mrs. Choi who then broke the silence.

“Y/N, I am very sorry for your loss,” she said with a tenderness you did not know she was capable of possessing, much less directing at you. “I am also sorry that you have been dealing with your grief while working today. I am sure that must have been very difficult.”

“I am sorry too for overeating today,” she then said before adding tentatively, “and for perhaps being a bit too hard on you over the years.”

Completely taken aback by not only her apology, but the genuine sincerity with which she delivered it, you simply stood there and stared at her.

“I think we should talk sometime about the things Taehyung mentioned,” she went on. “But, I don’t believe now is the appropriate time.”

“Taehyung, why don’t you take Y/N out for a short break?” she then suggested. “Take her somewhere private where she can have a minute to collect herself.”

He nodded at her and then silently led you from the room, his hand resting on the top of your back comfortingly. Down the hall you two went until he stopped in front of a door into what appeared to be some sort of guest lounge. He opened it and ushered you inside.

The moment the door closed, he had you in his arms. He sat you two down on the couch and then gently pulled you onto his lap, his arms cradling you in a tight embrace. You buried your face in his neck and sobbed, letting out all the emotion you’d been keeping hidden. He stroked your back soothingly and gently rocked you as he whispered the sweetest words of comfort.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked a little while later once you had calmed down, the hurt in his voice evident.

“I didn’t want you to worry or feel guilty,” you said quietly.

He didn’t respond to that at first, just hugged you to him more tightly.

“Jagi, how am I supposed to take care of you if you don’t tell me things like this?” he then questioned, sounding so devastated.

“I’m sorry,” was all you said in reply.

“It’s OK,” he said back, his voice thick with emotion. “Just, next time please let me be there for you.”

You nodded your head in reply and just burrowed deeper into his chest.

A comfortable silence then fell between the two of you. As you sat there, curled up on his lap like that, absentmindedly playing with the buttons on his robe, it dawned on you that this was the first time you had been legitimately alone with him in weeks. You lifted your head up to look at him and could tell from his expression that he must have just had the same realization. Bringing a hand up to cup your cheek, he brushed away a tear with his thumb and then leaned in to connect your lips for the tenderest of kisses.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he said softly once you parted, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as he spoke.

“I know I see you every day, but it’s just not the same,” he continued before drawing you in for another kiss, this one just as slow and sweet as the first.

“I've missed you too, Tae,” you said after breaking away again, your voice catching just a bit. “So much that it hurts.”

“I know, Jagi,” he said sadly, leaning his forehead against yours. “I can’t stand being away from you.”

“But, I promise I’ll find a way for us to be together soon,” he then said, dropping his hand from your cheek and wrapping it around your waist to pull you closer to him.

He kissed you again, this time more deeply, and you wound your arms around his neck in response. As you began running your fingers through his hair, his kisses grew more desperate, like he was afraid if he detached his lips from yours for even just one second you would disappear and he would never get to kiss you again. You matched his passion immediately; you wanted nothing more than to drown in his kisses, to drown in him.

The indescribably perfect feeling of his lips on yours had you wondering how you had gone the last seventeen days without it, much less the last three years. Being with him like this just felt so good, so right; there was literally nowhere else in the world you would rather be. You were completely lost in him, and in the moment, so lost that the overwhelming sadness of this day felt a little more bearable, so lost that you forgot about the photoshoot and his ruined shirt and Mrs. Choi, so lost, unfortunately, that you didn’t hear the door open.

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Tag List:

@mooseknucklesbussy @hordanhearsawhooo @iridescenthobi @silvyaaa @yoonglespringles10 @serendipitysev @t0rus-milk-bread @cuteipat @aomi-nabi @yessii-i @just-jeon @allizarae @somewhereofftheglobe @mykie-min-bangtan

[perhapssomething]

Naruto Fic Rec List

Some little shit I enjoyed - not all of them but some that come to mind

The ways of him who holds the blade by Dissenter; Not Rated

In the quiet hours between midnight and dawn, who's to know or care if Senju Tobirama is sharing drinks with ghosts.

(Beautifully written characters, all of them - a perfect insight on the hearts and minds of the Founders)

Snow Storms & Snake Wine by writer168; Rated Teen And Up Audiences

Four strangers get trapped in a cabin, and it's the start of something beautiful.

(Unexpected hilarity and wholesome in its own special way, made me laugh my fucking ass off)

no time for survival by sazzafraz; Rated Mature

A 'What If' starting from the premise of Itachi's apparent demise at the hands of a rebel group attempting to overthrow the established shinobi system. Sasuke is quickly blackmailed into joining and thrust into a world of politics and hard choices, only to discover that his world is made of many threads and choices he could have never foreseen. Featuring the authors love of world building, deeply maladjusted protagonists and politics.

(Sasuke has so much potential - fics like this show it)

How To Save The World With No One Even Realizing by IncompleteSentanc (Erava); Rated Teen And Up Audiences

Minato knows at the beginning of the week that it's going to be a hellish one. Mostly because it starts with the kidnapping of one of his two remaining students, only a year after they'd lost the first one. He just doesn't realize at the time that it's not going to be a hellish week - it's going to be hell for quite a bit longer than that.

It all starts with Rin's kidnapping, and her subsequent rescue at the hands of a mysteriously appearing, monstrously strong, murderously violent woman.

A woman with cotton candy pink hair.

It only devolves from there.

(I'm laughing obnoxiously just thinking of this one, absolute gem that it is - all you could want in a fix-it story)

How To Survive The Weirdest Experience Of Your Life by IncompleteSentanc (Erava); Rated Teen And Up Audiences

Obito has lived through the single weirdest experience of his life. Not many could say that they'd gotten crushed by a boulder, had half their body replaced by creepy alien flesh, was promptly held captive for a year by a supposed-to-be-dead Madara Uchiha, was saved by a randomly raiding pack of supervillains, then promptly killed by them, fixed up again, then dumped in a forest, and finally, FINALLY, returned home again.

Yeah.

His life has gotten pretty weird. But he's home, he has his family, and he has hope that someday soon he'll be able to say he didn't just survive the experience - but that he also come out of it pretty okay.

(Sequel to How To Save The World)

(As mentioned, sequel to the above story, the chaotic and beautiful thing that we all need)

(Force) Trick or Treat by Hiruma_Musouka, squidspawn; Rated General Audiences

Uchiha Tajima has developed a "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy regarding his sons' social lives since Madara and Izuna met the Senju family. This is because whenever Izuna tells him things, he generally regrets asking. (Or: The only thing more ridiculous than Uchiha and Senju in proximity to one another are Uchiha and Senju in proximity to Halloween parties.) "

(*cackles*)

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle by blackkat ; Rated Teen And Up Audiences

Obito snatches up the abandoned bottle, jogs three steps, and hurls it with all the force he can manage at the back of the white-haired litterer’s head, snarling, “Hey, asshole! It’s called recycling!”

(I've re-read this more times than I can count)

Let Us Live by TakaGang; Rated General Audiences

Uncle Naruto thinks smiles will fix everything even if they're forced. Her mother dusts the cabinets like she wants to break them, and refuses to answer the questions that burn on Sarada's tongue. Her father is a mystery and an absence everyone tiptoes around.

AU. Sarada is an Uchiha in every aspect.

(Beautiful and heartbreaking - the dramatic irony burns)

Why we build the wall by Dissenter; Not Rated

A Kiri nin gets trapped in a cave with a Konoha nin near Kannabi bridge. Some things are inevitable. Or the AU where Kakashi is born in Kiri but still somehow ends up as team seven's teacher.

(I have no words for how amazing this one is)

Gem of the Eddy by beetlebee; Rated Teen And Up Audiences

"The fall of Uzushio collapsed our economy, our protections. You might think I'm being rosy, but they really cared about us. And they knew how to party. You know they had a seal that could swap body parts? Wildest night of my life,” the boatman’s eyes go distant for a long moment, “...but you kids are too young to hear about that.

“Anyway,” he continues, “our economy’s been a shambles since; maybe gets going for a year or two before it collapses again. No security of stability, so assholes like Gato think they can waltz in here and take charge. Boy, he'd be singing a different tune if the Uzumaki were still around." 

Sakura’s eyes widen a bit at that, and even Sasuke looks up. Naruto opens his mouth to say something, but Kakashi puts a firm hand on his shoulder.

“What an… illuminating piece of history,” says Kakashi, “Thank you for sharing.”

-----

(Kiri may have won the battle, but not the war. The island of Uzushio might not be as dead as previously believed. 

All Kakashi knows now is that he really should have refused that mission to Wave.

An island lives, people change, foxes laugh, and Team Seven goes on a wild journey!)

(aaaaaaaaaa perfection)