#and i IMMEDIATELY opened a new file to draw this

[sukugo]

do we think Vader ever says “Luke I am your daddy” in bed or do i need to put myself in time out for horny Star Wars thoughts?

DJASDGJDSSH EVREN!!!!!!! i am actually putting u in time IN, where u are now obligated to tell me ALL your horny star wars thoughts

bc uhh this is what u have caused:

also what if the og scene but vader said daddy instead of father

daddy kinks run in the family 😔

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Ooo you’re doing Pressure!!

May I request an artist reader who, throughout the journey found some paper, pencil and made a little makeshift sketchbook and when later bought Sebastian’s document decided to try and draw him? Like maybe both when human and current (and maybe the monsters)? 

Perhaps he saw them sketching, got curious and decided to look through it when reader left it somewhere or just straight up snatched it and held it out of their reach and sees those sketches of him. Could be hurt/comfort or angst/fluff.

Of course you’re free to change any of the details but please keep it platonic TwT

Aw love this idea! And it works considering all the paper and notebooks in the drawers of the blacksite.

............

"Great, [y/n]. One moment, you're doing some harmless graffiti on a brick wall nobody cares about. And the next, you're risking your life for a stupid crystal in hopes you'll get a federal pardon.."

Sighing, you held onto the overhead handles within the sleek black submarine, feeling it shake and rumble as it breached the water's surface. And after hearing the chime, the door hissed and opened up, the platform extending out onto the dock of a place already familiar to you: Hadal Blacksite.

'No place like home..' As you stepped out of the submarine, you could hear HQ over the PDA system informing you of your objective in reaching the crystal and collecting any "loose assets" you find along the way...

As if you needed any reminders of what you were doing here.

Immediately, you unlocked the first door with the keycard and began your journey to room 100. Along the way, you found a good handful of research data. Nothing too special aside from folders, USB drives, and a couple blue DNA vials.

Then after narrowly dodging the Angler in one area and avoiding Eyefestation's gaze in the next, you reached a room requiring yet another keycard to exit. You checked the nearby office cubicle, finding it in the first drawer you opened.

But that isn't what made your eyes light up. Rather, it's what was right next to the card that did:

A brand new pencil to go with the sketchbook you've been carrying with you.

Because you weren't given the luxury of doodling while sitting in jail for over 90 days, you felt your creativity flames being snuffed out, leaving you itching to draw something again.

Before all of this, you had a decent following on social media with your art skills, and you could imagine that they're worried sick over your sudden absence. But you hoped that, if you survive and succeed in this mission, you'll be able to come back and reassure them that you're very much alive.

And perhaps show them what Urbanshade has been hiding from the public...that is to say the sea monsters that have taken up residence in the Blacksite since its lockdown, freely roaming and haunting nearly every room you step into.

With the makeshift sketchbook you had (and somehow kept even after death), you've filled its pages with simple and detailed sketches of each creature you encountered.

But you doubt that they would let you leave with physical evidence of entities nobody else in the world should know about...unless you somehow convinced the guards that they were "original characters" that so-happened to look like them, but you had a feeling that excuse wouldn't fly.

Regardless, they've given you tons of artistic inspiration, despite your many close-calls with them in pursuit of studying their features from afar.

Thanks to the files Sebastian Solace has shown you, you've learned how to safely observe the Angler from a distance and better remember their details. They were merely a grotesque face surrounded by smoke, so you didn't have to worry about drawing any limbs or tails (assuming they had those).

You encountered their variants so many times that you could recall the little things that made each them unique--like how Pinkie had four pupils, how Blitz was missing pupils in one socket completely, how Froger was..well..a big frog with lots of needle-shaped teeth, and Chainsmoker was a sluggish blobfish through all that smoke.

Making eye contact with Pandemonium was a death sentence..as you've already learned after trying (and failing) to safely observe him through a glass window. So you draw him as you see him in his file.

The Squiddles' "intimidating" faces were scary in the dark when you least expected them, but they served as amazing inspiration. You even had a page full of what faces you'd think they make up to frighten others. It's too bad you couldn't show them, however, as that required you getting in their personal space.

Eyefestation, Good People, and the Wall Dwellers were quite..risky to observe, as they had ways of quickly and painfully sending you back to square one if you weren't careful. Even so, you made some pretty damn good sketches..and you wish you could show them off to them, too, especially to the shark who'd probably appreciate a human's drawing of herself.

Even the DiVine, who were always frozen in poses for some reason, joined your ever-growing list of muses. The oxygen gardens were a nice place for you to rest and appreciate the flora for a few moments--before an Angler came along, of course.

Then there was Sebastian.

While he was fully aware of your artistic passions, in the beginning he seemed a bit annoyed whenever you came into his shop just to sketch.....or if you took an unusually long time to reach him. He just assumes you've stopped to "doodle" and wonders if you really care about getting out of this place alive.

He'd remind you that HQ could get suspicious if you're off their radar for too long, but you've stayed in his shop for 10-20 minutes at a time and not once did your diving gear beep. So you reassured him not to fret.

It was kinda sweet that he worried over you, an expendable, although maybe that's because you actually treat him with decency..and don't take his snarky comments to heart whenever you died.

Aside from the occasional eyeroll whenever you brought out your sketchbook, he did inquire about some of the things you've drawn, and you'd show him, bearing a little pride in your work.

All you'd get in response was a "neato" or "wowie, that's how you see them?" and nothing more.

It wasn't insulting, so...you'll take that.

Obviously he was more concerned about how much research data you were willing to fork over in exchange for supplies, and how far that equipment will carry you before your next demise. So you'd eventually close the book and barter with him for whatever wares were on his tail.

Unbeknownst to him, you've actually started sketching him as of late. Now that you've met him dozens of times, it was easy for you to recall his features without needing to stare at him for reference every five seconds.

That would not only be rude, but very creepy.

Then one day, you showed up to Sebastian's shop with enough data to be able to afford his document, which described him as Z-13, "The Saboteur" who the company wanted "dead on sight" if he was spotted or trying to escape.

When you had time to read the file on your own, you learned some..pretty shocking things about how he caused the lockdown, went through torturous experiments, and was falsely accused of nine murders and was proven innocent far too late.

The most upsetting part was that he was never informed of this.

He learned that after presumably stealing his own document.

It made you feel sick to your stomach, knowing he's the reason you're being terrorized by those beasts, but you couldn't find it in your heart to be angry at him.

If anything you were angry at Urbanshade for their "guilty until proven innocent" system--or in his case, being proven innocent didn't matter.

His human mugshot was also included in the file, and even with the black censor bar covering his eyes, he still looked like quite a handsome fellow. You could make out some details, and ended up drawing him on a separate page, too, although part of you wishes you never started.

You doubt he would kill you or rip apart your book for drawing him, but considering how volatile and rude he could be at a moment's notice..you did your best to conceal the sketches when you visited his shop.

You didn't want him to be offended or reminded of his past..and make him resent the one person who he almost considered a genuine friend.

Unfortunately, you'd soon come to realize that your actions were only heightening his suspicions.

And that it was going to come to a head next time you entered his shop.

...............

"Okay, I'm going to bite...what're you really hiding in that little book?"

"Pardon?" Pausing mid-sketch, you looked up at Sebastian, wondering why he appeared so disgruntled. "I'm..uh...just doodling like I always-"

"No, don't give me that "like always" crap." He huffed, flicking the end of his tail as he crossed his two arms over his chest, staring down at you. "Last time, you couldn't stop showing me a stupid face you'd think one of those S-Qs would make...and now you won't even let me have a sneak peak of your next "masterpiece"." He spat the last word, voice dripping with disdain. "Are you really drawing something...or are you secretly writing intel to give to Urbanshade?"

"...wha.." You blinked in disbelief, wondering where he'd get that assumption from. "Why would I ever do that?"

"Oh I dunno, maaaybe because you have access to my file and know my location? I bet you're gonna sell me out to those scumbags once you reach the crystal." He gnashed his teeth. "Did they say you'd get extra cash for leaving tips on my whereabouts, huh?"

"Sebastian, there's no reason for this hostility. I'm not giving any intel to anyone-"

"Then you wouldn't mind me taking a look at this, would you? Yyyyyyoink!" His third arm was quick to snatch your sketchbook away, holding it out of your reach as you jumped up in panic.

You were already dreading his reaction.

This could very well be the end for you.

"Please give that back! You'll tear it!"

"You look frightened. So maybe I should, considering you're writing secrets about.....about...." But as Sebastian finally looked at the page, all he saw were sketches of his current self, and you began to see a shift in his expression.

It went from pure anger, to surprise and confusion, and then to....something unreadable.

"These are...all of me?" His voice became quieter as he flipped the page, only for his breath to hitch upon finding the drawings of his human form.

And for once, he was completely speechless.

The details were immaculate, everything from his hair style to the scar he used to have across his face--given to him from an angry cellmate who thought he really did kill those people and tried giving him a "taste of his own medicine".

But the way you made him look was...incredible.

That's him.

That's really him.

The man--the human--he was before...

Before...

"Yes." Your face was burning with embarrassment, and your heart was pounding with fear of both death and ridicule, now knowing that your fate laid in his hands now. "I-I'm sorry. I should've asked for your permission and I know the details aren't perfect but you didn't let me........huh?"

Ceasing your ramblings, you noticed the tears welling in his eyes, and you were stunned. Then his shaking hands closed the sketchbook and returned it to you. "Um..are you okay? I'm really sorry if-"

"I...a-almost forgot what I looked like before all of this.." He raised a claw to wipe at his watery eyes, sniffling. "They're...good drawings, friend. I'm sorry..I...I-I didn't mean to..." His voice cracked, and he forced himself to stop, bringing his hands to his face. "Why am I crying over something like..t-this..?"

He hated looking so weak in front of you, yet he couldn't help the tears that kept slipping down his cheeks. A certain sadness was weighing heavily on his heart, yet at the same time he felt...honored that you wanted to draw him, putting your heart and soul into every sketch--with him getting the most effort.

You didn't overexaggerate him as the hideous beast he and everyone else was convinced he was, but just him as, well, himself. His smiles when he realizes it's you coming through the vent again, his cheeky grins when you buy up all his supplies, and even the one time he pouted when you died to Pandemonium because you risked it all trying to draw the moldy fish-creature.

The human ones, as you could tell from the way he broke down, especially hit home for him. Just from a mugshot alone, you were able to create a near-accurate depiction of him.

It made him wonder if you two have met before any of this happened.

Sebastian sniffled, struggling to stop the tears and expecting you to make fun of him as he finally uncovered his face. But instead he saw you standing there with your arms opened up. "I feel like you could use one of these. It's okay. I know you miss being human."

".........."

"C'mon, big guy. My arms are kinda hurting--oh!"

Without warning, he accepted your embrace and squeezed you tightly in his hold. Of course he was careful not to crush your diving tanks, and you smiled in appreciation and patted his back. "It's okay, it's alright..I got you. I didn't mean to make you cry."

He sniffled a few times, but otherwise said nothing and tried making sure you weren't supporting all of his upper body weight.

Curse his size. He wishes he could experience a normal hug again.

This one will do, though.

"I-It's...it's fine. Don't worry.." He finally spoke after a few moments, calming down. "As long as you don't tell anyone about this."

"I'll take it to my grave." You chuckled, letting go and stepping away so he could straighten his back out. While he did that, you gently tore a few pages from your book, to which he blinked in confusion.

"What are you doing with-?"

"Keep them." You insisted. "In case this sketchbook falls into a pit or gets waterlogged, I want you to hold onto these. Besides, I can tell you appreciate them a lot. So...consider it a gift."

"Why..thank you." A smile appeared on his face as he took the pages carefully. "Rest assured, they'll be safe and sound." He gazed at them both one more time, feeling a tug on his heart.

But it wasn't as heavy as before.

After neatly folding and stowing them away into his pockets, he saw you already sitting in one of the chairs, your sketchbook opened to a brand new blank page.

"Sooooooo what are you going to draw this time?" He tilted his head, ear fins twitching with curiosity.

"Hm...I did see a vision of a white glowing man a few rooms back. I think he was from...the Mindscape? There was a file talking about him and some floating gears and a white ball."

"Ohh yeah, he's an interesting guy. I'd love to see your interpretation of him." Now Sebastian was 100% invested, as he curled his tail around himself, resting his upper body on it so he could see your book better. "But y'know you won't be able to leave this place with sketches of-"

"I'm well aware of that...I could always change a few things and turn them into OCs."

"Hah. You should."

"Maybe I will." You snickered, grateful that you didn't have anything to fear.

At least somebody in the Blacksite appreciated your art.

[tibby-art]

hitman au save me .. its been seven years ..

haven’t been able to draw/write much of this au lately but i want to write a few little scene snippets i have stored my brain :’D ill include them under cut

=+=

“This better be something good,” Scar muttered to Cub as they stepped out of the elevator. The hitman, while bound to his contract, considered ‘boring’ missions to be a waste of his time.

“I hope so,” Cub hummed. “Hope so.”

The ConVex swung open the doors to the NHO conference room, not bothering to check if their bosses were actually ready for their meeting.

“Holy mother of—! Knock next time, will you?” A man setting files down on the conference table jumped visibly as the doors slammed open.

“The Vex require a dramatic entrance, Beef,” Scar said casually. Cub snickered.

“Sure, whatever.” Beef furrowed his brow, used to this behavior. He didn’t have time for this. “Okay. Doc was supposed to do this briefing, but he’s busy with his machines I guess, because of course he is, so.” He huffed, composing himself. “Your new top-secret project. This one’s a doozy. Have a look.”

Beef slid the folder across the table. The hitmen flipped it open, absorbing its contents with hungry eyes.

What caught their eyes immediately were the photos. The person of interest looked nothing like a powerful crime boss or a dangerous anomaly. A young adult with glasses, dark eyes and short, sandy brown hair stared back at them.

“Who’s this?” Scar raised an eyebrow. Is the NHO asking them to assassinate some normal-looking university student?

“That is Grian,” Beef explained, both hands planted firmly on the table. “Grian has been with us at the NHO for months.”

“I’ve never seen him before,” Scar remarked.

“Grian’s case is top-secret. He’s been staying in high-security, private quarters… as well as our research laboratories.”

“I thought you guys seemed super suspicious lately! I knew they were hiding something from us, Cub,” Scar nudged his partner with a grin. Cub did not budge as his sharp eyes combed through the documents. He hadn’t heard a single word spoken to him.

“Cub? What’s the deal?” Scar asked. He preferred to let Cub read their mission files and summarize it for him, anyways. Dyslexia and top-secret government files were not a great mix. Oh, what would he do without Cub?

“Watchers?” Cub finally spoke, looking up at Beef with a quizzical frown. The other man nodded slowly. “You’re kidding.”

“After months of testing and analysis, we can confirm that this individual is the only currently documented case of a mortal possessing Watcher abilities,” Beef nodded slowly.

Scar had heard whispers of the Watchers only a handful of times. As a vex, he knew plenty about the realm of magic, the divine, the fae, you name it! But Watchers were said to be ancient entities, perhaps as old as time itself. So old that they were widely considered to be a myth.

“So this is not a hit,” Scar said after a moment.

“This is not a hit, Scar, good lord, do not kill this person,” Beef put both hands on his forehead and let them slowly drag down his face.

“Mortal, you say?” Cub raised an eyebrow.

“Yep,” Beef said. “She was a completely normal citizen until he got these abilities in some freak accident. Lucky for everyone involved, the NHO was able to take control of the situation before anything… dangerous happened.”

“So,” Scar narrowed his eyes slightly, “If this isn’t a hit, then what do you want from us?”

Beef sighed. “After months of testing to determine Grian’s situation, the NHO has decided that he is too important to return to life as a normal citizen at this time. Instead, we’d like to utilize his abilities in our goals to maintain order in Hermit City, and we need someone to train her how to be a special agent in the field.”

“You want the ConVex to train a Watcher how to be a hitman,” Cub said with a slight smirk at just how insane that sounded.

“Yep.”

“Huh.” Scar put both hands on his hips. “Well, that’s not what I was expecting.”

“I suppose we could give it a shot,” Cub said. Although the ConVex were bound by a fae contract to work for the NHO, the vex took every opportunity to feign control over their situation. There was no choice here. Beef had given them an order.

“Sure, sure! We are very good at our jobs, after all,” Scar grinned. Whatever happened, good or bad, would at least be entertaining, surely.

“You’ll come back here to meet her tomorrow morning,” Beef instructed. “Hand me that file back and be here by 9, will you?”

“Sure thing,” Cub replied coolly, sliding the file back to the man. Scar couldn’t help but grin wider when he noticed Cub’s hand casually in his pants pocket, some folded white paper barely visible in his grip.

“Don’t be late. I’m serious this time,” Beef called out as the hitmen turned and exited the conference room.

=+=

The conference room was tense that morning. Towards the end of the table sat the NHO - Beef, Doc, Etho, and Bdubs. On one side sat Cub and Scar. Across from them, Grian sat alone.

“So, how about introductions?” Doc clapped his hands together. “Er… Cub and Scar, this is Grian. Grian, this is Cub and Scar. You guys already know the deal. Grian is going to come with you on missions from now on.”

The ConVex hadn’t taken their eyes off of Grian since they entered the room, unable to resist their curiosity. They had both read the files, but still found it hard to believe the person before them was a Watcher. Grian sat rigid in his chair, fiddling with his hands, looking tense and exhausted. She eyed the vex curiously as well.

“Well hello there,” Scar greeted. “I’m Scar, and this is Cub.”

“Hey, hey,” Cub said quietly.

“Hello,” The corner of Grian’s mouth twitched in a possible attempt at a smile.

The three continued to stare at each other until Bdubs cleared his throat.

“Wonderful introduction. Now that we’ve broken the ice, let’s talk about your next mission.” The man picked up a small remote, and the large screen on the wall behind them illuminated.

“Before we send our agents out into the field, we meet like this to discuss the details and ensure that the mission is clearly understood,” Doc explained to Grian, throwing a disapproving glare in the ConVex’s direction.

A lengthy file on some high-profile criminal appeared on the screen, as Bdubs proceeded to read off the information. Scar slumped back in his chair. These mission briefings were the worst. It was time to zone out and have Cub tell him the details later with all the fluff cut out.

At about ten minutes in, Scar yawned absentmindedly.

“Oh, are we boring you, sir?” Doc interrupted Bdubs to shoot a piercing stare at Scar.

“Oh, not at all!” Scar said cheerfully, but slumping in his chair slightly lower.

“As I was saying,” Bdubs continued loudly.

Scar glanced over at Grian. Her eyes quickly darted back to the presentation when they made eye contact. Scar looked over at Cub and found he had still not taken his eyes off of Grian. Hopefully Cub was at least somewhat paying attention, because he sure wasn’t.

Grian continued to fidget with his hands. Scar felt a pang of pity for him. The vex were used to this sort of environment, but according to the NHO, Grian had a completely normal life up until a few months ago. Now suddenly, he gains these terrifying powers and spends months in a top-secret lab having tests run on her all day. Who wouldn’t be overwhelmed?

Scar yawned again, this time more intentionally. He earned another death glare from Doc, but Bdubs droned on. He glanced over and saw Grian rubbing a hand on his cheek to help hide a grin.

The art of annoying your boss was a delicate one. Timing is everything. Let enough time pass until they’ve forgotten, or they think you’ve stopped, to continue the game. Scar lets about ten minutes pass before his next yawn, bigger this time.

“Quit it,” Beef hissed. Even Etho glanced over. Doc kept his eyes on the screen, but his jaw was clenched. Grian let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Five minutes later, Cub clears his throat rather loudly. Bdubs stutters over his words for a second, but because Cub is Cub, none of the NHO seems to be able to tell if that was a deliberate cough or not, and they decide to ignore it. Cub shows no emotion.

After an hour that felt like an eternity of Bdubs explaining every possible detail about the case, it seemed to be almost concluded. That was, until a rather loud yawn was heard throughout the conference room.

“WILL YOU LET ME FINISH, FOR GOODNESS SAKE?!” Bdubs finally erupted, whipping around in his chair to face Cub and Scar.

The hitmen stared back blankly. They glanced over across the table, and Bdubs followed their gaze, where Grian sat with both arms over her head in a large stretch.

“Sorry,” Grian said simply when all eyes were on him, lowering his arms. “Just had to stretch a bit.” He stared back at Bdubs innocently.

The NHO stood there, confused. Bdubs was at a loss for words, unable to get a read on the new recruit. He sighed and turned back to the screen. “Well, regardless, I think we’ve about summed things up,” he grumbled.

Scar made eye contact with Grian once again. The two cracked a smile at one another for a second, too quick for the NHO to notice.

Scar had a feeling that him, Cub and Grian were going to get along just fine.

=+=

[pucksandpower]

Breaking the Ice

Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics

Lando Norris x Räikkönen!Reader

Summary: a boy who never shuts up meets a girl who rarely wastes the energy to speak … it doesn’t go as expected (or in which not having much to say runs in the Räikkönen family)

Lando shifts his weight from one foot to the other, fidgeting nervously as he awaits the arrival of the other drivers for the pre-season press conference. His gaze darts around the stark concrete room, taking in the harsh lighting and the row of empty chairs on the raised platform.

This is his sixth season in Formula 1, but the thrill of the new year and the prospect of racing still sends butterflies fluttering through his stomach. He sucks in a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves.

The door opens and you stride in, Valtteri Bottas at your side. Lando’s eyes are immediately drawn to you, the rookie driver already capturing attention despite your quiet presence. You move with the casual confidence of someone who has grown up in this world, unbothered by the lights and cameras.

Lando finds himself staring, captivated by the way you carry yourself. The famously reserved Räikkönen genes clearly run through your veins.

Before Lando can gather his wits to introduce himself, you slide into the chair at the end of the row, Valtteri taking the seat next to you. Lando blinks, realizing he’s been caught gawking.

Smooth, Norris. Real smooth.

He clears his throat and makes his way over, mustering his most charming grin. “Hi there! Lando Norris. Welcome to the circus.”

You turn towards him, your expression unreadable. For a beat, you simply regard him in silence. Then, “Hey.”

You give a small nod of acknowledgment before turning away, effectively shutting down the conversation. Lando’s smile falters as you refocus your attention on … absolutely nothing at all.

Well, that’s a bit rude. He frowns, stung by the brush-off. So much for breaking the ice. Maybe you’re just shy around new people? Lando decides to give you the benefit of the doubt as the other drivers begin filing in.

He takes his seat a few chairs away, sneaking sidelong glances at you. You haven’t so much as glanced in his direction again, adopting the same thousand-yard stare as the Iceman.

Like father, like daughter, Lando muses with a shake of his head.

When the press conference gets underway, question after question is lobbed at the drivers. Lando fields them with his usual charismatic charm, unable to resist hamming it up for the cameras with comedic flair. In contrast, you remain stubbornly curt whenever the mic is passed your way.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“I don’t know.”

Your terse responses draw titters of laughter from the audience and press corps alike. Lando watches in amazement, unable to fathom how anyone could be so … so ...

“Boring?” He blurts out before he can stop himself.

You cut your eyes towards him, holding his gaze for the first time since your noncommittal greeting. Lando feels himself flush, suddenly uncertain if he’s been too cheeky. But then the corners of your mouth tug up in an unmistakable smirk before you turn away again, leaving him to wonder if he’s imagined it.

By the time the press conference mercifully ends, Lando has decided you’re definitely an odd duck. But also … kind of fascinating? In an eccentric, robotic sort of way? He’s not sure what to make of his swirling thoughts as you all rise to make your exit.

Lando hangs back, angling to get one more shot at conversation. “Hey, uh, Y/N? I know you’re still getting your feet wet here, but if you ever need any advice or, you know, someone to show you the ropes, I’m always around.”

You pause, glancing back at him over your shoulder. For a fleeting second, Lando thinks he detects … what? Amusement? Disbelief? It’s impossible to tell with your trademark poker face firmly in place.

“Thanks,” you reply, your tone mild. “But I’m good.”

And with that, you pivot on your heel and stride away, leaving Lando to stare after you.

“Huh,” he mutters to himself. So much for breaking the ice.

As the next couple of days of testing wear on, Lando can’t seem to get a read on you. Oh, you’re perfectly courteous whenever your paths happen to cross in the paddock. You’ll return his greetings with a respectful nod or murmur of acknowledgment.

But that’s as far as it goes. You’re polite, but also totally inscrutable. Lando has no idea what you make of him, or really anything at all that might be going on inside that head of yours. All he knows is that his curiosity about you has been thoroughly piqued.

One morning, Lando spies you sitting alone, sipping from a a mug of coffee as you study a stack of data printouts. He ambles over, determined to try chatting you up again.

“Y/N! How’s it going?” His voice is cheerfully upbeat. “That coffee from the hotel? Because let me tell you, it’s rubbish. If you want a proper brew, you’ve got to venture out and find a decent cafe. I know all the best spots around here if you’d like some recommendations ...”

He trails off as you simply look up at him, silent and unblinking. Lando clears his throat, feeling oddly off-kilter beneath your steady regard.

“Anyway,” he blusters on, undeterred. “How are you finding testing so far? Not too overwhelming, I hope? If you ever want to debrief or go over data or anything, I’m happy to lend an ear. Or even an eye, I suppose, since it’s more looking at numbers than listening to-”

“Bwoah.”

The single syllable cuts through Lando’s babbling. You set down your coffee and rise to your feet in one effortless, graceful movement. Lando blinks in surprise as you turn and walk away without another word.

“Oh. Erm. Sure, just … ignore me then,” he mutters, feeling his cheeks flush hotly.

He shakes his head as you disappear around the corner, baffled by your total indifference. But then a wry chuckle escapes his lips as the truth dawns on him with crystal clarity.

You’re not rude or shy at all. That’s just … who you are. Curt, to the point, unconcerned with frivolous chitchat and social niceties. You’ve got laser-focus, and nothing is going to distract you from your pursuit of speed.

In that moment, Lando feels a swell of admiration. He gets it now — you’re carved from the same uncompromising bedrock as your old man. Refreshingly authentic without any affectations or pretense.

Most people would find your blunt aloofness off-putting. But not Lando. No, he finds the prospect of unraveling the mystery that is Y/N Räikkönen irresistibly intriguing.

He grins to himself as he ambles off to get ready for his own session out on track. Just you wait, Y/N. He’s going to get you to crack a smile yet, even if it kills him.

After all, whoever said being a woman of few words was a bad thing?

***

Lando is in the middle of his pre-race routine, trying to center his mind and get into the zone, when you appear out of nowhere and thrust something at him.

“Here,” you say brusquely.

He blinks, puzzled, as he registers the scraggly bundle of wildflowers gripped in your fist. They look like they’ve been unceremoniously ripped out of the dirt, roots, soil and all.

“Uh … what’s this?” Lando asks.

You meet his confused gaze head on, your expression typically unreadable. “Flowers. For you.”

“For me?” Lando repeats dumbly. He glances around, as if expecting a hidden camera crew to jump out at any second. “Are you … giving me these?”

“No, I’m giving them to the other idiot who won’t stop yapping at me every single day,” you deadpan.

Lando feels his cheeks grow warm at the mild rebuke. He knows you’re referring to his persistent, if extremely one-sided attempts at conversation over the past few weeks. All his friendly openings and invitations have been met with a string of indifferent brush-offs and noncommittal hums.

Can’t blame a guy for trying, right? At least he’s being polite, which is more than he can say for-

“Well?” You break into his thoughts, arching one coolly expectant brow. “Are you wooed or not?”

This time it’s Lando’s turn to stare at you blankly. “I’m … sorry, what?”

“Wooed,” you repeat flatly. “You said the girl of your dreams would woo you with flowers or some nonsense. So I got you flowers.” You give the bedraggled bouquet a little shake for emphasis. “Now you’re wooed. Happy?”

It takes a moment for the words to click into place in Lando’s brain. Then a strangled laugh bursts from his lips as he remembers the foolish, offhand comment he made in an interview a few days ago. He’d been prattling on about his imaginary ideal partner, somehow painting the ridiculous picture of himself being “wooed” like some lovestruck Victorian lady.

Leave it to you to take the whole ludicrous scenario at face value. Lando can’t decide if he’s more charmed or bewildered by the fact that you’ve actually gone to the trouble of physically wooing him with … weeds?

“You cannot be serious right now,” he sputters out between residual chuckles.

You simply stand there, utterly unfazed as you hold out the world’s saddest excuse for a bouquet expectantly. “Well? Am I doing it right or not?”

“Doing what right?” Lando shakes his head, chortling again. “This whole wooing business? Y/N, that was just me rambling on like an idiot, as usual. You didn’t actually have to-”

“But I did,” you interject, effectively cutting off his protests. “So. Are. You. Wooed?”

Lando opens his mouth, then closes it again as he searches for the right response. There’s no menace or mockery in your expression, just that same intense focus and matter-of-fact bluntness that you apply to everything. Somehow, he gets the distinct impression that you won’t be deterred until he gives you a straight answer.

“Uh … no?” He ventures at last. “N-Not really, I guess?”

You stand there for a beat, Processing his words. Then you give a curt nod of acknowledgment. “Okay. That’s a you problem.”

With that, you turn smartly on your heel and stride away, leaving Lando gaping after you in a stupor. He stares down at the shoddy little bundle of greenery still clutched in his hand, not sure whether to laugh or just shake his head in amazed disbelief.

“A ‘me’ problem?” he mutters, a wry grin tugging at his lips. “Well, you’ve got me there, Y/N.”

Because the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that you respecting him enough to even entertain his absurd hypothetical … that might just be his new favorite problem.

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening as Lando brings his car across the finish line in fourth place. Not his best result, but respectable points in the bag. He allows himself a tight smile as he peels into the pit lane and kills the engine.

Until the unmistakable bright green and black livery of your Kick Sauber fills his vision, that is.

Lando does a double take, his jaw dropping as the implication sinks in. No way. There’s absolutely no way you’ve … you’ve won this race, right? In that underpowered, aerodynamically-challenged shitbox?

He can scarcely believe his eyes as you glide to a stop behind the large “1” board. The cheers and applause swelling around the track leave no doubt — somehow, against all odds, you’ve just taken the top step of the podium.

Lando scrambles out of his own car, tugging off his helmet and balaclava as he hustles across parc fermé in a daze. The first thing he notices is the sheer confusion and shock etched onto the faces of everyone else milling around. Even the marshals look gobsmacked by this upset for the ages.

In the middle of the chaos, you’re casually unfurling yourself from the cockpit with your trademark nonchalance. Like this is just another ho-hum Sunday drive for Y/N Räikkönen instead of, you know, the most spectacular overachievement in recent Formula 1 history.

Lando stands there gaping at you, unable to fully process what’s just happened. He vaguely registers the rest of the top finishers pulling in around you, their body language radiating bewilderment and disbelief as they all turn to stare, dumbstruck.

No one can quite seem to believe that an underdog backmarker has just eclipsed them all in a car that typically struggles to score points, let alone wins.

For your part, you’re projecting indifference to the chaos swirling around you. You simply grab a water bottle and take a long, unhurried pull, seemingly oblivious to the escalating frenzy.

Then, you casually turn in Lando’s direction and arch one brow ever-so-slightly. A silent question.

“I … you ...” Lando sputters uselessly, his brain still stuttering to catch up. “Did you seriously just ...”

The corners of your lips quirk upwards, hinting at a suppressed grin. “Well?” You prompt him calmly. “Are you wooed yet or what?”

It takes a moment for the light to flicker on in Lando’s mind. Any other time, he’d be delighted by the playful ribbing, eager to keep the back-and-forth banter flowing.

But right now, something else cuts through the haze of astonishment clouding his thoughts.

“Wait … is this ...” Lando squints at you searchingly. “Did you just win this race … for me?”

The words slip out before he can stop them. Because that would be such an impossibly, endearingly you thing to do, wouldn’t it? To dedicate achieving the unachievable all because of an offhand remark about wanting to be wooed?

His heart does a strange little flip-flop at the mere idea of you going to such outlandishly romantic lengths, all for the sake of who-even-knows-what is brewing between you two these days.

For a long beat, you simply stare back at him, your expression unreadable as ever. Then, “What?” You let out a faintly derisive snort. “No, of course not. Why would I do that?”

The words detonate like a slap in the face, momentarily winding Lando with their blunt force. “Oh. Well, I just thought maybe since I mentioned the whole wooing thing, and then you ...”

You shake your head impatiently, cutting him off. “You’re not the one who won this race, Lando.”

With that, you turn on your heel and stride away, dismissing him with a curt finality. Lando is left speechless, mouth agape as he watches your retreating back.

Around him, the rest of the drivers and crew are still buzzing with perplexed whispers and incredulous looks. No one can seem to wrap their minds around what they’ve just witnessed.

A sudden boom of laughter from Stake F1 Team Kick Sauber garage shatters the tension. Lando glances over to see your grizzled race engineer doubled over, tears of mirth streaming down his face as he wheezes helplessly.

“That’s my girl!” He chortles, shaking his head in amazed delight. “Leave it to a Räikkönen to blow the entire fuckin’ field away and just shrug it off like it’s no big deal!”

Lando feels the corner of his own mouth twitch upwards, the pinpricks of embarrassment fading as quickly as they flared. Of course he wasn’t on your mind out there today — you’re a laser-focused competitor brimming with the same single-minded intensity as your father. No thoughts, just pure, unbridled velocity.

You don’t crave grandstanding or glory, you’re simply out there doing what you were born to do, with ruthless, unsentimental precision. No fuss, no frills. Just inevitable, undeniable greatness through sheer force of will.

For now, that’s more than enough to leave him feeling utterly, deliriously, irrevocably … wooed.

***

Lando flops back on the hotel bed with a contented sigh, still basking in the post-race glow. P3 on the podium is a stellar result, made even sweeter by the fact that you claimed second place.

He grins lazily as you emerge from the en-suite bathroom, having shed your team wear in favor of a comfy t-shirt and shorts. Even with your hair tied up in a messy bun and your face scrubbed free of makeup, you’re still the most beautiful sight he’s ever laid eyes on.

“There’s the champion,” he rumbles affectionately, reaching out to snag your wrist and tug you down onto the bed beside him. You allow yourself to be pulled into the circle of his arms with a quiet huff of amusement.

“I didn’t win, you dork,” you point out mildly, making no move to extract yourself from his embrace. “That was Max on the first step today, not me.”

“Mmm, true.” Lando hums his agreement, nuzzling against the crown of your head. “But you’ll get there again soon enough. Then we can really celebrate.”

He punctuates the promise with a languid kiss, smiling against your lips as you melt into him with a soft sigh of contentment. These tender, unguarded moments are rapidly becoming his favorite part of any race weekend.

You allow the liplock to linger for a few long, blissful seconds before finally pulling back with a faint smirk. “Speaking of celebrating ...”

Then, without any hesitation whatsoever, you deftly roll off the mattress and sink down onto your knees in one fluid motion, effectively pitching Lando’s heart rate into a gallop.

“Whoa, hey now,” he sputters out a nervous chuckle, propping himself up on his elbows to gawk down at you in surprise. “What are you doing down there, trouble?”

Rather than answering directly, you simply arch one eloquent brow and ask, “Are you wooed yet?”

Lando blinks, needing a second to parse your meaning. Then a bark of laughter escapes before he can stop it, finally realizing where this is going. “Oh my god, you cannot be serious right now. Are we really still doing that stupid bit?”

There’s no missing the impish glint in your eye as you regard him from your knees, clearly quite pleased with yourself for managing to get the upper hand. “Well? I’m waiting for an answer here.”

Lando shakes his head in amazed disbelief, unable to smother his grin. “Y/N, love, you have got to be the most impossible woman on the planet sometimes.” He reaches down to brush an errant lock of hair out of your eyes, cradling your face tenderly. “But lucky for you, it’s impossibly charming as hell.”

You lean into the caress ever so slightly, regarding him with an impish glint. “So? Do you feel wooed yet or not?”

Something warm and gooey blossoms in Lando’s chest as he studies your features — the amused quirk of your lips, the slight flush on your cheeks, the fire dancing in your eyes. You’re such an endearing contradiction, managing to be the most formidably stoic badass on the racetrack while also being irresistibly playful when it’s just the two of you.

“Y/N ...” he starts, a bemused chuckle rumbling from his lips. He presses a kiss to your forehead, relishing your quiet hum of approval. “You do realize you don’t have to keep trying to woo me anymore, right?”

You blink up at him, your brow furrowing slightly as you process his words. “What are you talking about?”

Lando nods towards the pillow behind him, gesturing vaguely. “The flowers. The race win. All the coy banter and teasing.” He grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Pretty sure that ship has sailed at this point, love.”

You continue to stare at him with a blank look, like he’s suddenly started speaking in tongues. The lack of comprehension on your face is so unguarded and genuine that it makes Lando’s grin slowly slip.

Hold on … could it be that you actually don’t realize-

“Hey,” he asks slowly, hardly daring to breathe. “Correct me if I’m wrong here, but … I thought after the whole flower thing, we kind of … you know ...”

He trails off helplessly, not sure how to broach the subject in case he’s somehow misread everything completely. Your brow remains furrowed, making him abruptly hyper aware of the fact that your lithe form is literally kneeling at his feet while wearing very little clothing.

A pregnant pause stretches between you, thick with confused tension. Then-

“Oh my god,” you blurt out, your eyes going comically wide as the pieces finally click into place. “Did you think we were … dating? All this time?”

Lando chokes on his own tongue, too stunned to respond right away. He simply gapes at you, feeling like the world’s biggest moron for somehow operating under the wrong assumption for … how long, exactly?

Now that he’s thinking back, neither of you ever explicitly defined what was brewing between you two ... you just sort of started spending more and more time together, growing more and more intimately intertwined until … well ...

Suddenly he’s laughing, helpless peals of mirth bubbling up from his core as the truth dawns on him. All this time, you two have essentially been a couple of awkward teenagers muddling through the beginning stages of a relationship, the wires of communication getting hopelessly crossed along the way.

But oh man, of course it somehow ended up going down like this between you two. Why would he have expected anything less idiotically convoluted?

You’re chuckling too, the laughter rippling through your body in delightfully unreserved waves as you sway back on your heels. And just like that, the last lingering hint of tension dissolves from the air as you surrender to the hilarity of it all.

“So … I’m just gonna go ahead and take that as a no then,” Lando finally manages to gasp out between wheezing chuckles.

“Well that would depend,” you shoot back, your eyes bright with mischief. You shift forward onto your knees, leaning in close enough for him to feel the teasing rasp of your breath against his lips. “Because according to you, I’m already spoken for.”

Lando’s laughter cuts off with a soft groan as your nose brushes teasingly against his thigh, his palms finding their way to your hips as if by muscle memory. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?” He accuses without any real heat.

“Nope,” you agree matter-of-factly before capturing his lips in a searing kiss.

He loses himself in the velvet glide of your mouths for endless minutes, his fingertips tracing maddening patterns across the sliver of exposed skin at your waist. When you finally break apart, you’re both panting softly, gazes locked in a heated stalemate.

“So ...” Lando murmurs at last, his lips brushing deliciously against yours with every word. “If we haven’t actually been dating this whole time, then what would you call … this?” He sweeps one hand up in a languid caress, hinting at the incredible tangle you’ve both willingly stumbled into.

“Hmm ...” You press another series of featherlight kisses along the sharp line of his jaw, leaving him shivering. “How about … badly in need of remedial communication skills?”

Lando bursts out laughing again — because really, is there any more succinct way to sum up the two of you? He tugs you up onto his lap, cupping the back of your head and crushing your lips back to his in a heated clash of teeth and tongues.

You willingly arch against him with a throaty sigh, hands roaming possessively across his chest. The two of you are a whirlwind of tangled limbs and shared laughter and scorching friction.

It’s all so achingly, impossibly right that Lando can hardly stand it. But as you meet his heated gaze, chests heaving and eyes sparking with unspoken promises, Lando finds he wouldn’t have it any other way. Not when the payoff is stealing heated moments like these, all tangled up in each other with boundless laughter and blazing passion.

“Y/N ...” he murmurs reverently, tracing the curve of your smiling lips with the pad of his thumb. “I adore you. You incredible, impossible woman.”

You lean into the caress with a soft hum, covering his hand with yours to hold him there. “So what now?” You arch a playful brow. “Are you officially wooed or do you need some more convincing?”

With a low growl, he abruptly flips you both over onto the mattress in one fluid movement. You let out a startled squeak quickly swallowed by his questing mouth as he settles between your parted thighs, pinning you to the sheets.

You arch up to meet him in a slick glide of fevered skin, clutching him close. Through it all, your soft laughter never ceases — bubbling up in breathless peals of delight that Lando hungrily drinks in.

Yeah, he’s pretty damn wooed all right. But from this moment forward, he’s going to spend every second making damn sure you never have to ask again.

[staticbleeding]

⛧°。 ⋆Waiting on the Stars ⋆°⛧

+:｡.｡　teen Stanford Pines x gn reader　｡.｡:+

I really want to turn this into a multipart story if this gets good enough reception so let me know what yall think! warnings : strong language, suggestive language, the usual teen shit pt.1 pt.2

1972 Moving to the small town of Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey was not how you expected to start your senior year. Not long into your stay however, a certain twin catches your attention, or maybe you caught his. Will this be a journey among the stars? Or another tale lost to time?

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Your shoes squeak quietly against the vinyl floors of the halls as you walk to the office. Glass Shard Beach High School is painted on big letters against the walls. Eyes bare down on you as if you had a third arm. No one moves to this town. Let alone a new student in their last year of highschool. The walk to the office was filled with whispers and stares. You do your best to keep quiet and ignore the anxiety boiling up inside you. "It's only one year. Just survive one year here then you are gone from here", you mentally console yourself. You stop yourself in front of a door with big letters saying 'Office'. Opening the door, you are met with a dingy room that smells of old paper and sweat. Off to the side of the room is a big desk that sits an older lady with curly grey hair and thick glasses that looks like they can fall off at any movement. She types away at a typewriter that looks older than herself, "Um excuse me? Am I supposed to get my schedule here?", you speak for the first time since entering this dull building. The lady looks up at you with a sweet smile forming on her aged face. "Yes! What's your name dear?" she says in a sweet voice. You smile at her, "(Y/N)(L/N)". She opens a big filing cabinet that looks like it hasn't been dusted in centuries. She pulls out a beige file that has your name on it, a thin piece of paper falls out as she opens it. Handing you the paper along with a map, she welcomes you to Glass Shard. Bidding the woman goodbye, you walk out into the hall and navigate yourself to your first class.

Physics is written in big bold letters "You gotta be fucking me" you groan out. Opening the door you are met with eyes immediately on your form. Despite the eyes watching every move you walk up to the teacher sitting down at his desk at the front of the class. "You must be the new student. My name is Mr. Barron and I will be your teacher for this year. What's your name?" the balding man takes your hand to shake. As you shake the sweaty hand of the older man, your name falls from your lips. "Everyone this is your new classmate (Y/N)! Be nice for once please", turning his attention back to you, "go ahead and take a seat next to Stanford". His hand directs you to an empty seat next to the said kid. You sit down and look over at Stanford. Thick glasses sit on the strong nose of the man. A white button up is adorned by a red bow tie is tied perfectly against his neck. His hands are busy drawing in a notebook that looks to be filled with art and many ramblings. "Hi Stanford" your voice whispers out to the man that hasn't looked at you since you sat down "Please call me Ford" Stanford says in a quiet voice trying to ignore your gaze on him "Oh okay Ford" You smile at the nerdy looking man You gaze at his artwork, "You are really good at that", pointing at his current drawing of some sort of creature. A light red dusts the mans face. You start to notice more features of Ford's. His square jaw, the little indent on his chin, his glasses that he keeps pressed close to his face. He clears his throat and whispers a small thank you. Nodding your head, you turn your attention back to your books in front of you. His gaze strays to you throughout the class. Stealing glances at you as your focus is elsewhere. Taking in every detail of your face and mannerisms. The way your hair falls, your little laughs at the teacher's jokes, and the way you looked so focused on your notes. Who are you? What led you to this town? Questions circle his head as he watches you gather your books and backpack as the bell rings. That night he went home and sat awake, drawing in his notebook wondering what made you so interesting to him. Weeks go by as you get into a rhythm of going to classes and trying to get used to your new home in Glass Shard. Becoming more and more accustomed to the new town and starting to make more friends as the days come and go. The words shared between you and Ford slowly become more and more. Your first block interactions with the man becomes some sort of normality to you. A part of your everyday routine. He starts to get more accustomed to your presence, wanting more of your presence near him. He can't help but take note of the small quirks of yours. The way you lay your head down during the morning announcements trying to get one more minute of sleep, or how quickly you gather your things as the bell rings to rush and meet with your friends before your next class, or the way you look down when the teacher asks for an answer to a question. He finds himself waiting for the next moment he can get with you. But that's all he gets with you.

Walking along the boardwalk of the town you've started to get accustomed to, you look up and see a dingy looking sign. Pines Pawns Without thinking, your hands push against the creaky door. A bell rings above your head signaling your presence in the space. Your eyes meet the wide eye look of your classmate Ford sitting behind the counter. His gaze looks over you. Seeing you outside of the classroom wracked his nerves instantly. His palms begin to sweat and stick to the pages of the magazine in his hand. "Oh Ford! Hi". You smile towards the man you grew to know in your brief interactions. "(Y/n)?? W-what are you doing here?" He stutters out, quickly clearing his assortment of Cryptid Weekly magazines that are spread out in front of him.

"Thought I would finally pop my head in here after walking by it for awhile." You smile at the blushing man "Oh um...well this is it. My family store.." He scratches the back of his neck and looks away from your prying eyes. "Weird seeing you outside of school. I started to think you lived there." You joke with the blushing mess in front of you. A part of you weren't joking. You swear you have only seen the man walking in the halls with his twin and back to class. Never outside. You see the man tighten up and look down at the ground with embarrassment filling his body. "So what kinda cool stuff do you guys sell?" Sensing the incoming awkward silence, you fill it in. Looking around you spot gold chains, fur coats, and various diamond rings you for sure knew were fake. "Just..stuff. What would you call 'cool stuff'?" Ford says with a small smile. "Like dinosaur shit, shrunken heads, fairy dust? I ran out of all of my fairy dust last night. Need a refill man." You joke as your fingers graze against a fur coat that was definitely needing a wash. "None of that here unfortunately. We do have crystals however. Fake of course, but pretty nonetheless." the man looks towards you at that last part. Leading you to the back of the shop, he shows you a small crystal that definitely is plastic. You gently grab it from his hand. Your fingers graze over his. The thought that this is the first time you two have ever touched crosses his mind and he immediately looks down and tries to focus on anything else. You soon find a couple of crystals that would look nice in your room. Buying them and leaving the store left a silence Ford wishes would swallow him whole. He watches as you leave the shop with a little jump in your walk. The first time he has seen you outside of school and he spends the entire time a stuttering mess. "Nice going Ford." He mutters to himself and waits for the time the store closes. He doesn't hear his Ma scamming another person with her phony 'readings'

He doesn't hear Stan call dibs on the shower first

He walks to his shared room like a zombie and lays on his bunk. Looking up at the posters that are stuck to the bottom of the top bunk, Ford thinks about how you laughed and joked with him, how your fingers felt grazing his, how your eyes looked when you smiled. Slowly his eyes close and he drifts to his now usual nighttime routine of seeing your face smiling. Not cause of some stupid joke someone made but cause of him. He can't help but wish he had more confidence to talk to you. Ask if you want to go to the beach sometime. Maybe this is more than just a simple curiosity. He groans and hides his blushing face against the pillow. Silently wishing you would leave his mind. But you don't.

Little did he know, that you were thinking of the interaction yourself. Wondering why he stood out to you so hard.

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Shit this was the first full story I have written in like 3 years?? I hope y'all enjoy and if it's liked, I will love to have more parts. Baii <3

[yoredoesmore]

Is it cool if I request Hoshina Soshiro x Fem reader but Hoshina saw the reader drawing him on her sketch book a place can be anywhere.

Ok bye!

a/n: what a cute little request! Thank you so much for submitting something ^^

pairing: Hoshina x fem!Reader

summary: reader draws her vice captain as a cat (=^･ｪ･^=)

genre: fluff/romance/comedy [wc: 1.1k ]

enjoy!

Vice Catnip Hoshina | Hoshina Soshiro

It was one of those days again, where peace and quiet consumed Tachikawa Base. Most of today's schedule consisted of training sessions and important battle discussions– two activities that did not demand your presence as Operations Sub Leader. Your workload consisted of finding new information on the Kaiju and Improving the suit's functions.

Therefore you sat in the cramped space of your office, mind trapped in a cloud of concentration. You normally felt nothing but joy when pursuing your job. Every little achievement, be it fixing a small issue or handing in a report, made the pride in your heart grow. But today that energy had left you.

You felt little to no joy nor motivation, the mere thought of picking up the next file caused you immense stress. All you wished for was to lie down on your bed and enjoy the beautiful spring weather. But your next break was hours away and the way things were looking right now, with the huge pile of papers that sat in front of you, you wouldn't be out of her before midnight.

“Ugh..if only I wasn't alone.” You sighed, hands reaching for your mechanical pencil. While thinking about what piece of work to tackle next, you dragged your pencil over a ripped piece of paper, scribbling whatever came to mind. You found out that this was quite therapeutic and helped you blow off some steam sometimes.

As you looked down to see what you created, you were met with an abstract doodle of a cat.

You smiled.

The cat was holding a fish in her hand and her mouth sat wide open to devour it. Your eyes moved across the drawn lines, with nothing in mind at first, until you realized that its teeth looked awfully familiar. Two sharp fangs, where have you seen those before..?

Almost immediately an image popped into your head, the very face of your beloved Vice Captain. It was quite absurd, comparing Hoshina to a cat, yet the more you thought about it the more the resemblance struck you– until you were fully convinced that the Vice Captain looked just like a cat.

In any normal situation you would have allowed yourself a quick laugh and move on with your duties but for some reason imagining Hoshina as a cat was quite hilarious, thus you entertained yourself further with the thought.

“The Vice Captain as a cat..what would he look like exactly?” Your hands reached for your pencil case where they pulled out an eraser. Now fully equipped you felt ready to bring your imagination to life. You scribbled and drew and erased, trying to create a perfect reflection of your mind. Twenty minutes went by without you realizing, this new activity having you in quite a hold. You were so deep in thought that you didn't even hear the door opening.

As you drew the final line a hum of satisfaction escaped your lips. Your gaze admired the art you had put on your notebook, pride shining in your eyes.

“Is that supposed to be me?”

You froze.

The pencil you were holding on so tightly only seconds ago fell out of your hands, connecting with the cold floor and the blood in your body turned to ice as you finally perceived the new presence behind you. Slowly turning your body around, you were met with the curious face of your Vice Captain.

“No.” Was the only response you found yourself being able to come up with.

“But it says Vice Catnip at the bottom, slightly inappropriate if I might add but I'll let it slide because it's a good drawing.”

Ten minutes ago you were giggling and laughing at the slightly inappropriate pun you came up with. You spend a good amount of time thinking of cat related words that would either match Vice or Captain– Vice Cat-tain would have almost made it on the paper but the pronunciation felt off.

If only you would have gone with that one.

You sat there in silence, neither of you saying anything. Hoshina patiently waited for you to explain yourself but the only thing you wished to do was take the paper and rip it into thousand little pieces.

“It's you..” You finally managed to admit. You mentally prepared yourself to get the scolding of your life. Hoshina was not the type of guy who took any type of mockery lightly but instead of teasing words, you were graced with a heartfelt laugh. The man reached his hand out to grab the paper and give it a more thorough examination.

“Please don't look at it!” Your protest fell on deaf ears as the Vice Captain dragged his eyes over every line, carefully analyzing your art work. You were no match for him either. Desperately you tried to snatch the paper out of his grip but every time you lifted your hands, Hoshina pulled away at the last second. After two minutes you simply gave up and accepted your fate.

“I'm not mad if that's what ya thinkin.” He suddenly said, returning the art piece.

“You are not..?” Your hands reached out to receive it.

“It's quite cute. Me as a cat, never imagine that.” His little laugh slightly eased the tension in the air, allowing you to relax. Placing the drawing down, you started to explain to the Vice Captain how you ended up in this situation, so that he wouldn't get the wrong idea. To your surprise, he showed quite a lot of consideration and even admitted that he liked it when his colleagues joked around like that with him.

You laughed and chatted for a little longer, until all humiliation was forgotten.

“Ya figured what cat I would be?” Hoshina suddenly asked, catching you off guard.

“Hm..let me think. Probably the type that meows really loud for no reason.”

The look Hoshina gave you was priceless. “I meant..the breed.”

What is wrong with me??

Hoshina broke out into another fit of laughter while you were trying your best not to drown in a sea of shame. This was your first time interacting with the Vice Captain in such casual way. Although you have done nothing but humiliate yourself so far, this was rather nice. It was a good distraction from work and definitely worked better than random scribbles.

Bonus:

“Come again?"

“Looking at someone's drawing without their permission is quite rude, so it's only fair..” Your voice became a mere whisper at the end, yet Hoshina still heard everything clearly.

“Only fair, huh?” A long sigh escaped his lips as he cleared his throat.

Is he actually going to..

“Meow.”

You gasped.

The look on the Vice Captains face was picture worthy. To think that he'd actually comply and meow for you, it made your heart jump.

“Vice Captain..” Kafka stood at the door, accompanied by Reno and Shinomiya. They had come by to ask Hoshina something important but were instead met with something horrifying.

“..Did you just..meow?”

“No.”

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

HCs of Alfie with a younger wife? Like in her mid 20s 💕

Hello my darling!!! I’m sorry this took forever! But I am back!!! Please enjoy this little nugget. Also y’all HCs are so fun!!!! Maybe I should do more.

He wasn’t planning on marrying a younger woman. Let’s be honest he wasn’t planning on getting married PERIOD.

But then you blustered in…

You came in. Full of wisdom so far beyond your age. Full of confidence that came from the knowledge that you were the best you you could be. Full of light that he thought would flee from a man like him.

He immediately was drawn to you. Your soothing voice that brought down his rage, which so quickly could come full force against him when he got too brash and foolish, reminding him that there’s no need to destroy what was not yet broken.

Despite the incurable draw to you, he said he would stay away. Be respectful. Be a respectful old man.

You would have none of it. Because truthfully he wasn’t that old. He was just snippy and preferred his habits. He hadn’t been a young man ever since the war. Regardless what his birth certificate said.

In truth it didn’t take too much to get him to relent. He’s just a man in front of a beautifully infuriating woman. And after a screaming match ending with you laughing at his reddening ears and hoarse voice, he let himself finally say it, “Right then. Now only my woman gets to screech at me like you do. So I’ll see you tomorrow night? Take you to the pictures and maybe dinner?”

And soon enough he asked for your hand, rumors and shaking heads be damned. He needed you more than air, and for some reason you loved him just as much.

Alfie expected his life would change once you were moved into his home. Was only natural. But he didn’t expect to change THIS much.

Or that he would like it. That he would feel like a chasm he didn’t realize he had was finally sealed up and healed with the first morning he woke up to you next to him.

Younger yes. Unorganized you were not. And very quickly upon your arrival did you see the bachelor pad state and work your magic to rectify. To turn this dragon’s cave into an actual home. Curtains and windows finally opened to let in fresh air. Ledgers and letters were filed away. The garden in the back finally being tended to to indicate actual humans lived and loved on the premises.

Remember that Alfie has been a bachelor the majority of his life. Any pretty women which came into his life were quickly shoo’d away. So to say he was puzzled by your… womanly… tools?? Weapons??… was putting it lightly.

“My dove now what the fuck are these? They look like tiny dinner rolls.”

“They’re rollers Alfie! For my hair! Gives it the wave.”

“Right right hair wave rollers yes of course. Now what about these… powders and things?”

“My rouge and lipstick darling.”

He didn’t get it at all.

Though Alfie is partial to opera and the absolute classics, he adores the new music you bring home. His family in Boston adore you immensely and have taken to mailing you the newest records in America.

If you’re extra sweet, you can usually coax him to dance with you, spinning yourself around him in a tizzy. By the end of your evenings he’s drunk without even a single sip of rum.

He’s never been so happy. So care free. But there is this nagging feeling in his stomach. One that won’t go away. That maybe you’re not truly happy. That you’re secretly wishing to be back out with the young people. To go out dancing in pretty dresses instead of in the living room in your dressing gown. To be fawned over in illustrious restaurants instead of cooking dinner together most nights. Had he robbed you of your youth simply because he’s selfish?

He never tells you this. No being a man means keeping your feelings inside and not letting your woman see you less than perfectly confident. (His words not mine)

But you read him so easily. It’s easy when you love someone so completely. Especially if your lover gets the deepest scowl on his face when he’s troubled, staring deep into space.

When you finally coax him out of him, he merely grumbled like a shifting mountain, trying to brush it off.

But oh how he wished he told you sooner. You assure him that you never really enjoyed the clubs and high society outings. You much preferred to stay home with your friends and other loved ones. What could possibly be out there that could even come close to what you have in the house.

When you do manage to get out of the house, either to the cinema, walking Cyril, venturing out for dinner, or because you insisted that walking is good for him, he is fully aware of the stares.

Some are… disapproving. As much as they can be towards the King of Camden. But the ones he is most irritated by are the love sick stares of the young men who trail after you. Clearly covetous and stupid enough to be blind to the beast that walks close beside you.

He is shocked you don’t notice. When he brings it up to you, you merely laugh, “Why would I be noticing men staring? The only man I’m concerned with is you.”

That comment makes him smirk wickedly, grasping firmly to your waist as you laughed brightly, swatting his chest playfully when he growls in your ear.

For all your ferocity and fiery eyes, Alfie still dotes on you and frets over you. Little presents are common. He insists on you bundling at the slightest drop of temperature or precipitation. And begrudgingly “permits” you to attend to errands on your own (you and everyone else knows he would never forbid you unless it was truly dangerous. But he loves to rile you up and tease).

You’ll never want for anything being his bride. Nothing is off limits for you. Even if he does make a show of pulling out bank notes, groaning about how his bank account suffers. Even when he’s the one that insists on buying you new things.

He may be the older one, but you are some how so much more wiser and practical. Anchoring him to the present when the nightmares come. Secretly convening with his doctors to heal the deep aches and malaise. He insists you’re magic.

To some it’s unconventional. Your love doesn’t make sense. But to those who truly know, you’re a match made in heaven.

[silv3rswirls]

Their s/o struggles with anxiety

Requests are open!

Note: So sorry this is late anon! I took a little break from requests. Thank you for requesting though! I hope you like it 💕

Anon asks: Hi lovely here to keep ya busy. How about a reaction with dearest Stray Kids in which they spot signs of anxiety on their s/o and help em out...

♡Chan♡

He’s observant, his eyes are always on you when out in public. He knows how hard social settings can be for you especially when they’re overcrowded and hectic as the one you were currently at was. He’s become so good at reading you, comforting you, knowing when you’ve reached your limit. He’ll slip away somewhere quiet with you; let you calm down, do breathing exercises, get you whatever you need, etc. He always knows what to say to make you feel even just a little better.

♡Minho♡

He always holds your hand whenever you’re feeling overwhelmed. He squeezes it and runs his thumb over your knuckles, telling you to just focus on breathing. He’ll pull you aside and give you a gentle pep talk if you’re feeling upset about it. He’s the kind of giving you security when your feeling like this, going along for the ride as you learn how to cope with your anxiety.

♡Changbin♡

You found going out in public to be overwhelming most of the time. It’s always easy for you to get overstimulated, and Changbin has grown to know when you are. He doesn’t mind if you need to put headphones on or something to help you get through things. He’s flexible, offering to go somewhere quieter or less crowded if he feels like the function will be too much. He helps you resettle and adjust when needed and is always by your side as long as you want him to be.

♡Hyunjin♡

When you turned to him and nervously admitted you felt like throwing up, Hyunjin nearly had a heart attack. He had no clue your anxiety over what was happening was that great, but got up with you immediately. He waits in the doorway worried and ready to comfort you when you step out to try and recollect yourself. He combs his fingers through your hair, gets you something for your stomach, and assures you it’s okay and it’s fine with taking you home to rest.

♡Jisung♡

When you’re feeling down and overwhelmed with emotions, Han doesn’t mind staying home to be with you. He’ll stay in bed with you all morning, letting you rest or cry or vent to him. He gets you whatever you want; warm drinks, comfort food, extra blankets, etc. He understands feeling this way and wants to take care of you like you do for him.

♡Felix♡

Chest and stomach pains were nothing new. You were always telling him in stressful or anxiety inducing situations how your chest would tighten and hurt, or your stomach would turn to the point of pain. He listens and pays great mind to your social cues, and doesn’t mind cutting anything short of you’re in discomfort. He holds your hand, draws shapes on your skin, and lets you curl up with him.

♡Seungmin♡

It took him a bit to notice how bad your nail biting and skin picking was, but when he does he offers to help you try to break the anxious habit. He tries all the usual tracks with you; lemon juice or bitter tasting nail polish, helping file your nails down short, bandaids, etc. it makes him sad when he notices you’ve picked around your nails until they’ve bleed. He helps take care of them and stop you when it happens. If you're insecure over how torn up they get, he assures you there’s nothing wrong with it.

♡Jeongin♡

When you can’t settle your mind down to go to sleep he’ll gladly stay up with you. He’ll lay there and do nothing, or get up and do something with you if you want. He could talk calmly with you or just sit in comfortable silence; whatever you need. He’ll listen to whatever worries are keeping you up and try to talk through them with you. He’ll try things like tea or exercising that are supposed to help you sleep. He’ll cuddle with you, let you vent, anything you wanted.

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 22}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: With a plan set in motion, it immediately begins to fall apart at the seams. Maldovan is proving to be one of the planets you face some of your most devastating hardships on, and you're not sure you can survive it intact this time.

Word Count: 10.8k (!!)

Warnings: canon typical language, canon typical violence, death, "on screen" death, din raises his voice one (1) time, argumentative language, inner musings of reader, mentions of past heartbreak and pain, reader is being held captive against her will, talk of self-harm, references to past self-harm, mentions of IV ports and shots, glossed over references to surgical procedures, deadly poison, talks of injuring / killing people, ritualistic and religious activities, talk of past manipulation and administration of sedative drugs, reader has a lot of quiet moments in this, sexual content, reader has one (1) absolutely feral moment, those are all the big ones!

A/N: this marks the end of my all original content arc!! i'm so proud of myself and i hope this doesn't emotionally destroy you too much, oops (p.s. special shoutout to @sawymredfox for the lovely moodboard that helped to inspire me this chapter)

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Everything was too bright, even through your closed eyes. It was as if you were underneath a spot light, trained on you, making your entire body feel overheated and almost burning. You tried not to cry out, to hold in the sound as the sensation became too much and your body convulsed, and your eyes flew open.

The memory of killing your intended flooded your mind, the one of you biting into a truffle so strong you could feel the smooth give of the melting chocolate on your lips and tongue. The viscous sensation of the sugary warmth thick on your cotton-like tongue. But it was a bed you woke up in, in the same room as the one your mother had made up for you in the infirmary. She was nowhere to be seen, there was no medic or droid around either. You were alone.

The monitor you were hooked up to wasn’t reading anything, you’re breathing so shallow and the heartrate almost nonexistent. The poison had worked, it allowed for the plan to go through, now all you had to do was knock out the guard, grab your bag and meet up with Din in your room. The escape route was to sneak out under the guise of being a servant, alongside him still in his disguise.

To rush without drawing attention across the city and toward the shipyard, where Cara and ad’ika were waiting. It had been at your insistence that the little one be as far away from your mother once you had regained your sense of self, there was no chance you would take of her getting her hands on him. He had fussed, sensing you so close by when the news was told to him. But even his loud wails and cries couldn’t change your mind, his safety was paramount.

You look for the file, reading the summary at the end of it pronouncing your passing. That you had perished to the symptoms of the poison administered to you. The orders to burn your body not uncommon for someone of royalty, the culture of Maldovan is to honor those in death by allowing them to untether from their bodies to ascend to the afterlife. The order given in the signature of the king and queen, scrawled into the file directly.

It’s your ticket out of here, to run as you saw fit. To escape from the environment in which you had been sold into.

As quickly as you can manage, you exchange the cream sleeping robes you had been dressed in for the dark ones of a guard. Muscles protest the twisting and movements of dressing, sore from the currents that had raced through your body, the poison that had no doubt affected you more than you anticipated.

Arms protesting as you wrap your hair up to conceal it underneath a cover, a leather band holding it in place, another pin allowing for the remaining fabric to drape over your face. With only your eyes visible, you don’t waste any time before making your way through hallways and to the room you agreed to meet up with Din.

The only thing you intended was to retrieve the bag you had stored in the back of your closet. A small collection of clothing and things you could had come to care about while constricted in the life your mother had tried to trap you in.

It may be questionable, the meaning behind it, but the ring Prince Cala had gifted you was beautiful and made your heart flutter for some reason. It was the perfect embodiment of all that you loved should you be given the choice to pick such a piece of jewelry. All polished sterling silver, delicate pastel emeralds lined up in a small cluster of three. You couldn’t bear to part with it, even with the brand associated with it. The way it allowed for the things that happened on this planet to live brightly in your mind and memory.

Perhaps it was because the only way the Prince would know what you would like…was because your mother had to have told him. A small understanding of who you really were beneath all that she forced you into and to mold to, a true part of yourself she had seen and remembered even in her manipulation.

You recall the discussion of removing it to hide it away in the bag, Din’s confusion at such a notion.

‘His lips are soft against your own despite the slight roughness to them from being chapped, from his earnest attempts at being everything you needed the past few months. His own needs falling by the wayside, his own routines holding little to no meaning if it didn’t have to do with ensuring your comfortability or protection.

Cara indulged in all the servants’ quarters had to offer, something she admitted to you on one of your walks, not only to keep up pretenses now that your memory had returned, but a small bubble of time to allow Din to rest. Ad’ika in your arms and cooing along to the sound of your voice every so often, big, beautiful brown eyes looking up at you with admiration as he holds a hand over the middle of your chest.

“Mesh’la,” His voice is a low groan, igniting a smoldering fire beneath your skin. Despite everything, despite all the damage caused by your mother, your body still reacted to him as it had begun to before your kidnapping. Despite the last encounter you two shared…

“My armor, your armor, your weapon. It’s all aboard the ship, down at the docking yard.”

“No, you’re still wanted. I don’t…I can’t bear the thought of you getting captured, they would execute you, this world doles out punishments quickly.” You tighten the grip you’ve got on his wrists, nudging the bronze braces further down his arms, revealing more of his skin for your eyes should they open. But you keep them closed, not wanting to see him for the first time in such circumstances, in a desperate attempt at connection before all chances of it could be lost to you both.

You don’t jolt when he presses to you as much as the bars allow him, the front of his body hot against yours, just as his lips close in around your bottom one. His fingers dig into your hairline, nails scraping gently as he tilts your head just a fraction, deepening the kiss. You can’t help the small sound that escapes your lungs on an exhale, fed into his parted mouth from your own. He swallows it down, giving you one in return when your tongue touches to his.

You startle slightly, overcome by the forward action. By the heat you could feel coming off of him as he responds to your touches in much the same way you are to his. His fingers pull lightly at your hair, holding you in place to prevent you from moving out of reach, it’s intoxicating the way he’s moving against you. Small traces of his tongue along your bottom lip, a chaste kiss to it, to your upper lip, to the tip of your nose and each cheek. His forehead rests against yours as he simply shares air with you now.

Maker, you wish you could see the needy, open expression he’s surely sporting. The furrow of a strong brow, full lips swollen from exchanging kisses, cheeks flushed from emotion and need. You wanted to see it, with everything in your being, but not this way. Not this setting, not while you were anywhere but aboard his ship. His sanctuary. Your sanctuary.

“Din,” You pant, hands moving to grip at his elbows, practically begging him to hold onto you. Just for another moment, another breath, another lifetime.

“San, I promise you….this will be the last time you’re at the mercy of someone else. I swear to you, you will be free, at any cost. I will spend the rest of my life ensuring your freedom, let me, ner k’arta. Even if I  don’t understand the reasoning behind certain things, you are the most important.”

He lingers, until the sun sets and hour signals the shift he had traded with another coming to an end. He doesn’t leave space until a handmaiden descends the stairs. With her is a tray of dinner covered by a domed lid. The smell of caf wafting from the covered mug beside it.’

You turn at the sound of your door opening, your given term of endearment shaped on your lips but your entire expression steels when you see the form of your mother in the doorway. Or at least, that’s who you see when the figure is too small to be Din, a servant that distorted in your vision. The effects of the poison making themselves known in the blurring of colors and sunlight being too bright.

Shaking your head, you realize its your secondary handmaiden. No doubt instructed to begin cleaning the remnants of you from the room. She gasps, startled by your presence though you’re sure she doesn’t recognize you beneath the cover.

“Apologies, I was unaware another was sent to clear the Princess’s room.”

“Was told to gather the valuables, to return to the Queen for safe keeping. I will be gone in a second.”

She’s quiet as she watches you mentally go through the things you need and what’s in the bag, tossing one of the straps over your shoulders before you bowing to her and departing from the room. You make it down the hall a few paces, mind jumbled as you realize Din is late. There’s no sign of him in the hallway nor those that lead to the one your bedroom is located in. Your answer as to why is found in the form of you someone suddenly grabbing at your robes to pull you into a room as you pass the doorway. There’s a slight prick of a needle in you neck and with a shiver from the cold liquid inside, you know exactly who it is.

“Your Mandalorian didn’t expect me to wake up, that much was obvious.” Your mother laughed bitterly as she fastened the cuffs around you, the chains connected them clinking as she did so. The poison and the sting of the sedative make you move slowly, muscles tired and barely functioning. “Managed to sedate him, though he took a lot more than you typically do. I suppose it makes sense, he’s such a big man.” She scoffs at the thought of him, of downing him as she claims. Your heart seizes, worry clouding your mind as she and the sedative work together to immobilize you.

“Bet you let him defile you, in anyway he chose to, didn’t you, my darling? Probably thought it was love, that it was consensual. But he’s using you, just like the others. The Jedi who took you away, who let you fall victim to an attack that eradicated them. To the Mandalorian you claimed protected you in the aftermath, the one who wouldn’t return you home to me. To the Empire who held you captive, demanded things from you until it corrupted you. Changed you into someone you never would’ve become. He’s using you, just the same. Wants to own you, control you, keep you all to himself. Your body and your power the only thing he sees in you.”

Anger and resentment make the energy around you swirl, feeling it more so than a light twinge but a full force all around you ripe for manipulation. Reaching out your mind, you focus it on the chains being pulled taut as your arms are fastened behind your back. She’s moving to fasten the ones about your ankles together when the first one clicks open, the mechanism inside broken. You shove at her next, tossing her off of you and into the other wall.

The chains wrapped around your body were short, the links of them only a few dozen as you free yourself from the hold of your mother. Her own body weak from the poison and the collision of her back to the wall, allowing you to distance yourself from her. To gain a few feet of space as you begin to careen down the hallway. But she follows, far too quickly for comfort once she manages to find her balance.

Footsteps heavy, you feel the sedative try and take ahold of you, but you fight it off. Focusing inward to try and thwart it, negate in in a small bout of healing. Your mind worries for Din, for his own safety. What if your mother had told the guards of his true identity? Would they already have him held in the dungeons, his sentence being doled out? The entire plan of killing and escaping fallen on his shoulders and the blame placed on him?

No thoughts were running through your head other than to get to her quarters, but as you approach the hall, there’s a fear that he’s not there. The bag in your hand grows heavy as your hunch it proved correct, he’s no where to be seen inside her large room. As she’s rounding the hallway herself, slower than you but no less determined, she sees the end of your robe disappear around the other side of the long hall.

Back to the medical wing, you think as you move as quickly as you can down the stairs, far too many of them for you to move at a faster pace. You didn’t want to risk tripping on your tensing muscles. As soon as your boots make contact with even ground once again, you’re careening down a wide hallway, the servants back rooms and paths the goal to travel across the grounds without drawing any more attention.

A distraction never hurt anyone, you reasoned as you dug a hand into the bag for a small round disk. It feels alive in your palm as you nearly slid into the dining hall, the destruction of it paramount to call for servants and guards alike to the scene, to keep everyone in the main part of the palace. To ensure you time to find Din and make the call to Cara for an emergency escape right from the grounds. You trusted her skills, her ability to get the ship low enough for you to load an unconscious Din and then yourself with minimal firepower. All the focus would surely be on the dining hall, the ruined wedding, the craze of your mother claiming her whatever story she concocts.

The three high-pitched chirps of the grav charge you recognized from Din’s weaponry echoed in your ear as you planted it along the ornate door the second your mother was rushing through it after you. The dining hall had been transformed into an extravagant set up for the ceremony. Rows of chairs lined up, beautiful collections of flowers adorning each column, lanterns set up high and in vast numbers, the candles in them unlit. But it all lays in disarray now, covered in debris.

“San!” You heard Din’s voice through the dust and floating debris, but the ringing in your ears drowned it out much the same way the drugs still in your system convinced you it wasn’t even real. It couldn’t be, your mother, she already ensured his death with nothing but a single word. Hoping to crush the very last bit of your heart and will to fight. The only thing on your mind was survival. He was too far, he was fast and he was skilled beyond many but he was down the hall based on the way his voice echoed to reach you.

You called back, hoping that it wasn’t your mind playing tricks on you, the term of endearment echoing back to let him know your precise whereabout should he really be searching for you. But you were sure it would be too late; your mother was already surging up from the blast. Her body covered in ash, dust billowing off of her as she moved as quickly as she could.

You spied the remote on the ground but instead of rushing toward it, you went for your mother who was still sprawled on the ground from the force of the detonation. She roused slightly but burst into movement when she saw you heading straight for her with anger in your eyes. As soon as she scrambled to her feet, you whipped your hand out to send a piece of broken pipe across the room and into her legs.

“San, please, you’re not angry with me! It’s him! He’s the one whose done all this!” She shouted as she regained her footing and tried to flee out into the hallway, she dove for the remote when she spotted it abandoned on the floor. You were already swinging your chains, gathering momentum and just as she broke the threshold you threw it out. The chains wrapped around her middle and you pulled as hard as you could.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Din’s form burst into the entryway, his entire body moving lethargically. He was fighting the sedative; he was fighting it to search for you. His voice called out again, as his head swayed slightly. The

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself as her body collided with yours just as she pressed the trigger on the remote, she had managed to get in her grip, just standing back up from reaching for it as you closed in. The shock was debilitating, originating at the crown of your head, pulsing in your temples and flying across your body to ignite your very nerves on fire. The chains around your wrists, making it even worse, the electricity feeding off of itself for a long moment. You gripped your mother’s body tight to you, the shock transferring to her as well.

Din shouts out your name, louder than you’d ever heard him speak before. But it barely registered over the scratch of your own voice torn from your throat as you cried out.

You both fell to the ground, your teeth gritting so hard you feared your jaw would break.

As soon as you were able to, you rolled over to pin your mother’s rousing form, the chains clinking around you, the metal heavy where your muscles braced against it. She was blinking up at you, her own body no doubt feeling the dangerous effects of the electrocution. Faintly aware of quick steps thundering in the hall, you didn’t dare look away from the woman beneath you as your hands came up to bunch at the front of her robes.

“You will control me no longer!” Using your shaking limbs, you lift her up by the front of them and slam her back down to the ground. Voice wrecked and trilling.

“S-San, ple-please.” She coughed, voice broken as she tried to reason with you, her breathing labored and her mind still with her.

“No!” You couldn’t help but lift her slightly off the ground only to slam her back down to collide with the lavish and polished floor again and again. “You- have- done- nothing- but- take advantage of me my entire life! You had no right to be that way toward me, to do the things you did to me. Your own flesh and blood! Your only family, your only child! I’ve known more kindness from strangers, from those who don’t even know me!”

“I only did it to protect you!” She cries her own words, sweet voice no longer pitched high in an act but raspy as you recalled it being as a child, the voice that haunted your waking hours just as much as your sleeping ones. Pleading with you, the dynamic completely turned now. But there was no reasoning with you, even if Din were to approach you now, even if your old protector Akiz rose from the dead to ask you to show mercy- you could not.

“You never protected me, you’ve only hurt me. Over and over and over again. Every time you chose to load up the needles, every time you closed the shackles on my wrists and ankles, every time you locked me away in the dark with no way to even know I was alive! You made me want to end my live, mother!”

“I didn’t mean- I only wanted-“

“You made me so unaware of everything, I didn’t even know I was a person!” You were shouting at the top of your lungs now, for all to hear. The small crowd of servants and the people dressed in decorated robes surrounding Din in the doorway. Everyone unsure of what to do, of how to break the scene up. But when Din’s figure tried to, he suddenly halted as if there was an invisible barrier preventing him from entering the room. “You treated me as harshly as those that corrupted me!”

“I sold you to give you a better life, to give us a better life! One I couldn’t give to you on an armor’s earnings. It was for your own good. The things I did were for all for your own good, San, you have to believe me!”

Your knuckles popped as you curled your hands around her throat, the flesh and tendons forming to your tight grip. Her own hands scrabbled at any part of you she could reach but you ignored the dig of her nails into your arms, into the base of your neck, eyes locked with hers as they widened in fear and desperation.

“I won’t let you, I won’t let you, not anymore!” You snarled, teeth bared and emotions raw as you watched her gurgle your name, voice tapering off and turning raspy the longer you held to her. Your own shaking and distorted, hoarse from the power behind your shouted words. The same power you felt flooding your veins was all your own, no influence of the Force. You could feel her, the energy of her very being waver, fade, the light going from her eyes as her hands fell limp to her sides.

Tears sprouted from your eyes, falling onto her slack face as her lips tried to form your name one last time. When her last breath left her chest, your hands loosened thought you didn’t remove them. The fear of her suddenly springing up and turning the tables on you all to real even as you took in the way her slightly parted lips were slack, the spittle and splotchy red patches decorating the skin of her face and neck. Her golden skin tainted and marred, just like that about your wrists, about your ankles, about your heart.

Bowing, you nudged the crown of your head underneath her chin, hands moving down to her shoulders, tears flowing freely, sobs wracking your body as you nuzzle into the body of the woman who was supposed to love you, support you, help you navigate the world. The woman who had failed you in every conceivable way, who had taken what little parts of you had survived the events of your life. All of the power and fight leaves your body, energy drained and muscles slack.

All you can do is weep.

You didn’t jump when a hand settles on your back, when the warmth of it seeps into the layers of fabric and into your skin. A comforting weight, a familiar weight. Din.

“Vaabir nayc ku'rukar, bic cuyir shi ni.  Ner kar'ta, gedet'ye, vi linibar at ba'slanar.  Ogir cuyir naas olar par mhi payt.” His voice is quiet, barely above a whisper as he speaks softly to you. As he calls you back to the room, to the time, to him.

Do not startle. My heart, please, we need to leave. There is nothing left for us here.

“Val cuyir dar.” You rasp out, voice strained and small. So much like a child lost in a crowd and searching for someone, anyone to help them get back home.

She’s gone.

“Ni kar'taylir, San.  Vi…vi linibar to-"

I know, San. We…we need to-

“Ni liser't ba'slanar kaysh!” You lift your head, eyes meeting Din’s with a fierce desperation. The meaning of your actions settling in as you feel the body beneath you. “Val may ganar let ni slanar, val may ganar harmed ni, a ni liser't ba'slanar kaysh.  Liser't ba'slanar kaysh baar olar, ogir. Ogir cuyir kebise vi vaabir! Bat K'ath.  Val- val deserve at nari bat.”

I can't leave her! She may have let me go, she may have harmed me, but I can't leave her. Can't leave her body here, there...there are things we do! On K'ath. She- she deserves to move on peacefully.

He’s suddenly turning his back on you, broadsword held up in defense as two figures approach. They’re surrounded by more guards dressed exactly like him, like you. Dark billowing robes, though their hands remain gripped around handles of their own weapons. The steps of so many approaching falling on his ears alone, you are too lost in your grief, too focused on the woman who lays dead before you. Because of you.

“Stand down, we do not wish to harm her. Nor you.” A woman’s strong voice, cadence lilted in the way that conveyed a high standing. Her robes were shining in the sun filtering in from the tall, arching windows in the room. The colored, faceted glass at the top allowing for prisms of color to splash over the room even as dust continues to settle. Highlighting the damage done by the grav charge. Tables and chairs strewn about, petals from flowers littered over everything. Glass glittered about, as did the remnants of stone columns, two of which hadn’t been able to withstand the explosion. The perfect set up for what was supposed to be a joyous union, shattered down to the very details.

“Aliit, the queen commands you. Heed her words.” Another servant tempered, bridging the gap between the man standing guard before you and those that commanded all of the planet.

“The only words I follow are hers and those of my Creed.” He spares a glance back at you over his shoulder. The confidence in his stance and the conviction in his words pulls you to your feet. You gaze around him, eyes landing on the two figures standing before him. The depictions of them cast in oil paint and in holo nets the only time you’ve seen them, but you would recognize them anywhere. The king and queen of Maldovan.

The people who had been set to become your family.

The people whose son you murdered with your bare hands.

And they stand before you and Din, hands up and placating even though they just witnessed you strangle your own flesh and blood.

Instincts of flight light you up from the tips of your toes to the still aching crown of your head. Though you do not move, you simply stand behind Din, who is poised for a fight. Ready to defend you, to protect you, to ensure your freedom now that your mother’s clutches can no longer control you. You stand still and strong behind him, to match his devotion and willingness to face a potential new threat head on.

“San of K’ath.” The man steps forward, the golden jewelry adorned around his neck and the clasps on his ceremonial belt jingling as he bows at the waist toward you behind Din’s large frame. “We want to express our deepest apologies for the tragedies you’ve encountered while here in our home. From the way you were coerced here against your will to the attempt on your life just last night.”

“We want to extend the offer to undo any medical procedures your mother conducted alongside our medic. There are locked files on our system, we can only assume they worked together willingly. As well as offer you the suite in which you’ve occupied for however much time you require to recover. We humbly request peace from this point on, your skills are beyond anything we wish to fight against. Should you wish to leave this moment, we would allow you to. The contents of your room are yours, the gifts given to you for the union ceremony are yours. Should you want for any of it.” The queen bows as well, her headpiece secured over braided hair glinting in the sunlight.

“You are the Mandalorian, the one Lena had requested we put a bounty on.” The king rises from his bow, eyes focusing on the stance Din holds, the way your fingers had wrapped around the back of his robes. A question, his words are not. But a fact that is now out in the open. His fierce protectiveness, the manner in which he had held back guards that followed in his movements about the palace in his attempts to locate you, the way he holds himself, shields most of who he is from all to see.

They can see the was you hold yourself, how you had nearly effortlessly taken out the threat your mother had revealed herself to be. The use of the Force minimal, but still seen by those who had crowded the entrance to the damaged hall, called forth in haste by the grav charge you had deployed. It is obvious now, the strength you possess yourself, the skills you had hidden away in order to play the part of a willing daughter until a moment for your escape made itself known. Two trained and skilled individuals that now have no reason to hold back. The glimpse of freedom right in front of you both, yours to take, to defend with everything you had.

“She had said you were part of the people who had hunted her since her younger days. A threat that always lurked around the corner. But- that is false. From the way you’ve gravitated to her since your arrival, you’re bonded. A pair that cannot be separated. Is this correct?”

“Yes,” Your answer was immediate. “He’s…he’s my-“

“We are to be joined, according to my religion. Should she still want that after this ordeal.” Din fills the silence when your words falter. When the conviction in them at labeling what he is to you in Basic fails you.

“I see,” The queen looks between you both. “Then the proposal to wed you to our son was ill-intentioned. Stolen away from one you love for another of status. The culture of others is so foreign to us, we couldn’t imagine taking the happiness of our child away. Even if he…had incongruities.”

“The poison, it was an attempt on both your lives. We can only assume it was politically motivated. We will not discuss it here in the open.” The queen’s eyes connect with yours and you nod your head to let her know you’re not just listening, but understanding too. The Medic, the one they employed. They place the blame for all that has happened with him, with your mother. She sees the betrayal for what it is, a plan to infiltrate her family.

“We…we need a moment. If that’s...amenable.” Your fingers tighten where they are wrapped in the fabrics flowing from Din’s broad back, falling in layers from his shoulders. There’s…there’s so much to discuss, to decide. It’s not what you had expected, when your mother had all but chained you up one last time and tried to lead you back to the medical wing. There’s no telling what she had planned to do but…the kindness of the two people before you is genuine. You can sense it, there is no underlying scheme to get you to remain here. No game they are playing, simply extending honest hospitality and understanding of what you’ve been through.

“That is perfectly acceptable. We understand that this- it’s a jarring shift from just this morning. We will step into the hall to give you some privacy.”

You can’t help but feel anxious as you follow them to the medical wing, a hushed exchange of words with Din revealing that he too knew your mother had something implanted into your temples. A control device to shock you, should you step out of line or display powers. Your charts easy to hack into with the clearance code he had seen a droid enter during his time trialing after your mother the night before.

Cara is called back to the grounds, both by Din on the comm link he’s got hidden just inside his outer layer and the guards patrolling the docking yard. She and ad’ika are accepted immediately, the two of them escorted to the medical wing where you wait with Din. Plush chairs and a long couch surround a low table, food served to ease your nerves, to show that they will still provide for you despite what has been revealed.

“Everything’s okay, little one.” You let him burrow his face into the crook of your neck, small body barely a weight against your chest as you held him to you. He wasn’t making a sound, but you could tell he was trying to connect with you mentally. It was fuzzy, your body strained and exhausted so you gently shushed him and patted a gentle hand on his small back. “I can feel you trying to, but let’s wait until I’m a little more in control, okay? Don’t want you to stumble across anything bad in my mind.”

He just nuzzles closer, the point of his little nose cold as he presses it to your neck.

“He’s trying to ‘connect’?”

“Yeah, it’s just a lot right now. Those shocks really- they didn’t do any damage but my mind isn’t strong enough to put up walls should he be poking around in there. Don’t want him to stumble into any bad memories or thoughts.”

“Are you…having ‘bad thoughts’?” Din’s tips his voice low, eyes focusing on you as he stands between where you are perched and the door. On the defensive should something happen, even now.

“Yes and no. I’m not…Din, I’m trying to be okay. But it’s going to take some time for me to be.”

“I understand, I just worry. You- you deserve to feel safe and protected. To be at peace.”

“I’ll feel better once these transmitters are removed,” You try not to raise your voice though the emotion flares through you. The anger and hurt and betrayal of your own flesh and blood submitting you to something so controlling. It was already a hard enough reality to accept that she was willing to keep you in chains that would shock you should you move suddenly, but to implant something into your very head to do the same? To control with a remote should she see any sign of defiance in you from the twitch of an eyebrow to the raising of a singular finger?

It’s a vile thought, the things she had been comfortable in doing to control you, to keep tabs on you. To get it removed, the transmitters as well as a blood transfusion to rid your system of the poison and subsequent sedative, it would be a lot to undergo but you were willing to. For your peace of mind as well as a healthy reboot.

The recovery takes a few days, the faint cuts in your temples healing quickly and painlessly with the aid of bacta patches, with the tender and caring hands of a replacement medic. The one who had worked alongside your mother jailed for his corruption and manipulation. It didn’t matter that you were no longer intending to fold yourself into the royal family, you had been a part of it while engaged to Prince Cala. The principle of the matter stood firm, you had been important, of high standing, the princess at the time- there was no forgiving the man’s actions.

Din remains close, during your recovery. The suite you had resided in is where your little group set up for the time being. Din opted to sleep atop the couch across the pair of chairs clustered around the low table opposite the room from the bed. Ad’ika resting with you in the large bed or alone when his tiredness grew into an afternoon nap. Cara was quick to take the fainting couch in the closet, hoping to give you both a bit of privacy but still remain in close quarters.

She didn’t want to part from either of you just yet, to ensure that everything would be okay. That there wouldn’t be any need to transport one of you to another place. Or both back to Nevarro and then you somewhere else, either your home planet or Tatooine where your hideaway was.

The ashes of your mother, are condensed into a small ceramic box, detailed with gold over a black base coat. It’s heavy in your hand as you stare at it, mind blank and eyes losing focus and blurring the longer you stare at it. Din is standing beside the door, Cara having left the room with ad’ika at the arrival of the queen. She had wanted to hand it directly to you, her words quiet as she explained that it is customary to place the remains in gilded boxes and display them alongside photos of the deceased.

You listen solemnly, words failing you when she asks after your own customs. You tell her of the ones you know of Manda’lor. Your own from K’ath lost in your memory, something you don’t recall witnessing during your first years on the oceanic planet. It had never been something discussed or explained by your mother, questions of your father always bubbled up to the surface but had never been voiced. Not when it was as if he never existed in the first place.

She sits with you for a while, asking after how you’re feeling. If you needed anything from her at that moment, that the cooks are ready to prepare whatever you wanted should you ask. You thank her for her kindness, for her generosity, genuine feelings of admiration and appreciation for her the way she’s folded you under her wing. Her eyes shine as she takes your hands in hers and simply holds them. A lamentation for her son missing out on being the same way for her is the only depressive thought she’s voiced over his death. Her and the king both place the blame of it on the medic and your mother, something you did not correct.

It felt…wrong to lie to her. She was obviously conflicted over the actions of her son and the willingness he displayed to go along with the plan to use the lack of your memories to instill false ones into your mind. The influence of your mother strong on him for reasons she wished to know, but never would. Her son was gone, so many questions would remained unanswered, though the compassion she’s shown you a sliver of obvious as she dressed in mourning robes and does not leave the palace. The fact that you did not feel guilt for ending his life spoke volumes of your own thoughts on the matter, but you wouldn’t add to her turmoil nor disturb it.

With a quick dab of a folded cloth underneath her eyes, she’s clears her throat to explain that clearance has already been set for you to depart when you wish to.

You thank her again, standing when she does. Her hands twitch as if she wants to reach out, but she reads the way you tense at the mere suggestion of it. She bows instead, you return the gesture and that’s the last you see of the woman.

The question of where to go hangs in the air. Both parties sure of voicing it lest the answer be something they are unable to agree with. But they would willingly take you to wherever you choose to go, giving you back the freedom you nearly lost once more.

“I would like,” You clear your throat at your voice falters on the words, packing the ship had been a silent affair. The guards stacking three crates of your belongings as well as supplying you with a token of their symbol that would grant you instant access into their air space. The invitation was offered despite the fragility of the connection, born of remorse and a wish to make things right, for you to stay at one of the few seaside homes they keep up should you want to return and enjoy in the offerings of the city. “I would like to go to Tatooine. To retrieve something from my hide away there. If that’s…if that’s amenable.”

“Tatooine it is, then.” Cara treks up the ramp, cracking her knuckles as she goes. Din is silent beside you, eyes ever watching closely. Though there is something hidden behind them you can’t quite make out and refuse to reach further into his mind to figure out, not wanting to impinge on his privacy.

“I want to…I would appreciate the…um…” You trail off, feeling so offput by the way he’s focused solely on you. You know he doesn’t mean to put you on edge by doing it, used to doing so behind the visor of his helmet. He’s well-meaning with his intentions but you feel very much like a specimen under supervision, your every move giving away information on internal workings. “Maker, I’m sorry. I c-can’t think with your eyes boring into me so plainly.”

“I didn’t mean to unnerve you.”

“No, I know. I just…feel vulnerable and like you’re waiting for me to make a run for it or something.”

“You don’t have to leave with us if you don’t want to. You can…take one of the ships they offered you and go on your own. You don’t owe us anything for-“

“I-I don’t…I don’t want to be alone anymore, Din.” You whisper, feeling the thickness of your tongue in your throat as tears prick behind your eyes. You think back to traveling alongside Akiz, how much you felt like it was the right thing to do, like he was the right person to place your faith in. To care about and be cared for in return, a truly selfless person who had done so much to ensure your protection and safety, someone you had tried your best to do in return. The same feeling you had alongside Din, though there was that…additional layer of connection that sprouted warmth in your entire body and made your heart both beat rapidly and calm. “I want- I want to go with you. I want you. If that’s…if you still-“

“I do,” He breaths out, hands reaching for your own fidgeting ones. The heavy pendant revealed as he opens his fist to you, the shining beskar catching both the light and your breath. He had found it, going through the contents of the medical wing, when he had figured out what the medic had done to you at the request of your mother. “I didn’t…I was waiting for a moment alone. But yes, San, I-I do want you, beside me, traveling with me, anything you are comfortable with.”

“I had hoped she kept it,” You reach a hesitant hand out for it but think better of it at the last second, pulling your hand back and flattening in against the center of your chest. “But it’s yours, you…you should keep it. It was stolen from me, I can’t be trusted with it.”

“Mesh’la- San, I want you to have it.” He steps close and offers it once more. “I gifted it to you, it is yours.”

“I…I like the thought of carrying around something that once belonged to you,” You admit almost shyly, he feels warmth bloom in his chest at the admittance, at the willingness to share such a thing with him, even no, especially now. He feels the fabric covering his mouth shift as his lips twitch when you look up at him with wide eyes, your hand uncurling to accept it.

“Everything I have, is yours as well. I make that promise to you.”

The ship is an blend of quiet beeps and the low hum of the engines as they power the craft to move through hyperspace. You don’t let go from where you gripped tight to Din’s hand as he sits beside you, nor the hold you have on ad’ika as the child sits securely in your lap. Everything is still in the control room as the glowing blues and greens move over the glass paneling of the vantage deck. Cara is staring down at the controls, her head hung slightly.

“I reset the security protocols when I left,” Din speaks into the silence, hoping to put his own mind at ease. Everything is okay….you’re onboard the ship with him, wanting to travel with him, wanting to be at his side. Though he doesn’t know in what capacity just yet. But he could…he had to be patient. You endured so much the last few months, the last year since he had first stumbled upon you chained up in that compound. He could wait for you to approach him, to speak with him about the things you both agreed needed to be discussed. To open your mind and hear to him even if his is beating rapidly each time you suck in a deep breath or stutter our a question you wouldn’t have asked before.

He really…dislikes the idea of thinking of things and before and after. But the reality is that you both went through something, you more so than him. Way worse than him, your own autonomy stolen from you along with the very memories that make you who you are. The death of your mother, even knowing it was the only true way to be free, was going to weigh heavily on you. Greif and loss were not linear, you would feel it for the rest of your life. The levels of it waning and cresting much like the waves you admire every time the ocean is near. And he would stand by your side through it all, as long as you let him. As long as you wanted him to.

“I’ll be catching a ride back to Nevarro, once we land.” Cara announces, taking the quiet moment for herself. “I’m truly glad I could help to get you back, San. But there’s a lot that needs to be tended to, I hope that’s okay with you.”

“Yes, of course. You have responsibilities and things that require your attention.”

“That’s not to say I regret how long it took to find you,” she turns to pin you with a somewhat pinched expression. Her eyes giving away her trepidation, even if her smile is small on her lips. “I just feel like there’s a whole lot you two need to hash out and I don’t want to intrude on that.”

The jump would take only a few hours, Cara further explaining her choice to return to Nevarro and her responsibilities. With the assurance that she would eradicate any other calls for your capture, dispute them herself if need be and that there would be a plot of land with each of your names on it should you choose to lay low. That you both have a place to return to, should you want for one.

You thank her for everything as you share an embrace with her, her own arms tight around you. She’ presses a kiss to your cheek, a smirk on her lips as she pulls back.

“He’s an alright guy, that one.” She nods to where Din is standing beside Pelli, ad’ika’s small body between the two of them as he inspects a droid no bigger than him. “He just got confused it all, I hope you two can work it out.”

“Be safe, please leave contact of your return. I’m sure we’ll be back at some point.”

Travel to home planet of K’ath is mapped out and set into the panel, a quick jump to light speed signals the journey has begun. Din had yet to put his armor back on, sensing you need to see him for who he is, not the wall of armor he typically is. His soft edges exposed to you in your low moment, someone to reach for and find a hand or a shoulder unobstructed by protective leather and hard beskar.

It’s quiet, but you could hear the faint sounds of Din’s rumbling voice as he lulled ad’ika to sleep in the hammock strung up in the small hold space. You’re laying in the moderate bunk space

The second he steps through the door, before it can shut behind him completely, you’re surging forward from where you’re perched on the very edge of the bed. Your hands reaching for his face, fingers curling into the cowl and mask, pulling the fabric down and pressing your lips to his in a desperate kiss.

His reaction is instant, his own hands coming up to cup your face and flatten on the small of your back, his head tilting just so to deepen the kiss as he pulls you flush against him. His stubble is a scratching tickle against your face, but you don’t care. His bottom lip is between yours and you pull back to catch your breath, realizing that you can’t see even a twinkle of light reflected in his eyes as the bunk is in total darkness, the door shut behind him.

He whispers your name as he takes a breath of his own, pressing his lips to yours firmly. They’re so soft, so plush, they feel like nothing you’ve ever had against your skin. All fond softness and genuine intention, a true kiss in the very definition of the word. Your hands move up to shove the band of fabric keeping his head cover in place. Both the leather and soft cotton fall to the floor, his curls exposed for you to dig your fingers into.

“I-I want to see, but, Din. I can’t…I can’t make the vows to you.” You part from him for a moment, wanting to be honest, wanting to voice your thoughts.

He’s loosening his hold on you, beginning to pull away and your heart stutters. You rush to explain it further to him, the feelings tangled up inside you.

“I can’t make the vows to you right now, I….I want to. Someday. Everything is too fresh, it’s all- jumbled in my head. I want to be yours, I want you to be mine. Maker, I want that more than anything, but the idea of reciting vows right now…it-it- Din, it’s too much.” You hiccup, grasping at his shoulders so tight your nails dug into the shoulders of his robes.

He pulls you back into him, closing the small gap that had formed as he loosened his hold on you. He clings to you just as you do to him, noses touching and sharing breath. You know he wouldn’t demand anything of you, whether you voice concern or trepidation or not.

“I want you to see, even if you don’t have intentions to make the vows. I…want to be seen by you, even if it means breaking my Creed.” He pressed closed lips to yours, simply feeling you. “You are what is important.”

“I wish to see you, more than anything.” You whisper, the feel of his facial hair sending sparks to flare low in your stomach. Your fingers are still in his hair, though now they are running through the thick tresses to calm you both. “I just- can’t right now. It’s- too much, Din. I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize, I will never force you to do anything. I promise that to you. But please, mesh’la, let me feel you, let me hold you. I’ve- I’ve-“

“I’ve missed you too,” You read his thoughts and repeat them to him, they are the same you’ve been having. The kisses slow down, become openmouthed as desire flourishes and heat sparks in both your bodies. He’s running his hands down either side of your neck, your shoulders. Down your back to grip you tight around the waist, fingers digging into the fabric at your hips. The robes still in place that you hadn’t yet removed, too anxious to speak with him once the little one went down for the night.

He tugs you closer, letting you feel the swell of him between his legs. The sensation dizzies you, the weight of it against your hip, though he doesn’t move against you, simply holds you close. You lower your arms to wrap around his shoulders as he bends his knees and grips you behind the thighs, lifting you without a second thought. The weight of his becomes trapped between your legs wrapped around his waist, pressed right over the softness that had developed in your lower middle. It’s a heady sensation, pulling a soft sigh from you.

He groans into the kiss, at the feel of you clinging to him. Taking slow steps toward the cot so as to not jostle you. But it all simmers when he leans down to rest you atop the covers. The stifling mood bubbles as his eyes adjust to see the faintest outline of you caressing your hands down his arms and to the fastened front of his robes. The air is warm on his skin as he lets you undress him, soft fingers pushing the fabric from his body with great care not to poke or prod any sore spots. He hadn’t been doing any of the fighting but the care and sensitivity you showed made his heart soften and a sigh escape his chest.

Your hands still at his waist, the belt and harness for his broadsword cool to the exploring tips of your fingers. The blade isn’t in place, removed for him to pilot the ship and safe in the control room. The clink of the clasps being undone causes him to twitch and you barely manage to stifle a huff of laughter before you’re tugging his trousers down his slim hips. The front of them catches but he doesn’t move to or breathe a word of argument as you drag the fabric down until it falls to collect at his feet, completely mesmerized by your slow actions. Leaving him in just his undercover.

The mood tempers even more when you lean forward and press your face to his middle, feeling the softness of the hair that adorns his middle, cheek to his warm skin as you loosely wrap your arms around him. He no doubt feels the heavy breathes you take in and exhale, centering yourself and focusing on the feel of him, the very real man in front of you. The one who had come looking for you, to rescue from those who had stolen you away…the one who had caused you to run in the first place.

As if sensing the direction of your thoughts, Din’s hands cup the back of your head and along the back of one of your shoulders.

“Mesh’la,” He heaves a deep breath, unsure of how to voice the incessant thoughts since the moment you had stormed out of the bunk back on the Crest. He says your name, voice giving way the emotions he’s consumed by as his voice falters. You lean back, pulling him along with you. After a few moments of shifting and moving together, you’re both on your sides. Facing each other while wrapped up in each other’s arms. One of your legs thrown over his hip to keep him close, one of his wide palms cupping your cheek, heads resting on the pillows.

He whispers his apologies to you, over and over again, his lips brushing over your face to pepper kisses along every spot he can reach. He whispers his thoughts to you as best as he can explain, how he felt in that moment, how he was unsure of how to navigate such a delicate matter, how he was more than willing to make it up to you until everything was right once again. You whisper back assurances that everything is okay, that you’ve both made mistakes in that moment. That he is okay, and you are okay, that you are okay together.

“I will wait, until you are ready. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” His forehead connects with yours, his nose brushing yours as he confesses to you in a moment not born of panic or on the brink of death as he had done before. You return the words in a moment of full clarity, not on the cusp of sleep as you had done before. Both of you professing for the other to hear, to take to heart, to carry with you a better memory of the words.

I love you.

The land is disturbed before you, dug into deep and the ceramic box placed into the well wrapped up in delicate chainmail, covered back up with a few words spoken softly. A language not recognized by those beside you. Who had helped you to make the thought a reality. Allowed you the closure you so desperately sought after.

Crashing waves fill the crisp, salted air all around you. Enveloping you and transporting you to a moment in time you would much rather be in. The time of standing at the shore and watching the waves rush to kiss the sand, whitewash foaming up and making mesmerizing shapes as the bubbles fizzle out.

A small hand of your own dug into the damp sand to feel each little grain, the air filling your lungs and your back warm as you sit in the lap of your mother. Her arms around you, nothing separating you from her as she holds you steadfast to watch the sun dip below the horizon.

You knock your head back to look up at her with a gummy smile, some teeth missing while others wiggle, wile others slowly grow into place. Hair a mess of dark waves and curls as the evening breeze whips through the tresses. She smiles beautifully back down at you, her features soft and rosy. A giggle bursts from you as she ducks down to press a firm kiss to the middle of your forehead. Once, twice, three times.

She can’t hold in the soft laughter as she gazes into your eyes, seeing the world through them in how wide and bright they are. The call of gulls doing nothing to divert her attention as you purse your lips and mimic the kiss before giggling again and looking back to the vast ocean before you both. The water so close to tall reeds of grass your home is surrounded by, the smell of dinner simmering on the stove wafting in the air as it nears readiness.

“I love you, my darling. I will always love you.”

Closing your eyes as they begin to sting, you feel the memory slip away from you as you stand amidst the same tall reeds of grass now, overgrown and wild. The sand still just as pale and shimmery as it had always been. It all hushes around you as you move about, your skin feeling the energy in everything around you, the whispers of it as you feel the long-lost attachment to the woman in your memory flare up.

You weren’t sure what happened to her, what altered her so resolutely. What drove her to do the things she did, what things festered inside of her and turned her into a stranger who bore the look and face of your mother. But you promised yourself that you would never treat someone born of your own body the same way, should you ever find your identity shifting and taking on the facet of ‘mother’. Even with the all too familiar clutches of corruption you could recall as clearly as the sight of the ocean before you, the chilled breeze whipping around the ends of your dark robes, you wouldn’t succumb to it again. You would use your powers to protect, to ensure a long life, to ensure a happy life.

The sand dipped beside you as Din settled down at your side. His robes matched yours, his armor and helmet still aboard the ship. Eyes watching you closely, he turned to face the ocean when you didn’t meet his gaze.  All he could do in that moment was reach his left hand out in search of yours and pull you to rest between his propped-up legs. Willingly, you moved with him, leaning to rest your back into his warm and sturdy chest. The painful thoughts of how life had once been so simple quieted as you felt ease flow through you at his touch.

Little chirps and huffs of exertion announced ad’ika as he climbed out of the bag resting in the sand at Din’s hip. The small child shuffling and climbing over limbs to settle in your lap like you were in Din’s.

Ad’ika knocked his head back to gaze up at you with his wide, brown eyes. He coos as you look down at him with a soft smile. Bowing over him slightly, you touch your forehead gently to his own, feeling the velvety texture of his soft skin and fair hairs there. His giggle ignites something in you, a devotion springing to life deep inside of you. A shared past, shared experiences and struggles bonding you to the older being in your lap. He’s got so much more time than you do, but you vow to ensure that as long as you’re breathing, he will know love and peace.

“You will know love, ad’ika. I swear it to you.” You murmur into his soft skin, earning another giggle that flows into the air to mingle with the sound of gulls overhead.

His little face ducks out from underneath you, gaze going back to the ocean. Before you know it, he’s pushing up and away, running as best his little legs can manage over the sand until it smooths out on the shoreline. The waves reach for him but he stands just out of their touch, turning to hold out a claw to you with a question in his eyes.

“Gar aalar guuror yaim, ner kar'ta.  Nayc vaii has ru'aalar guuror yaim par a munit ca'nara ni sheber olar sa adiik.  Ni'm glad at aalar bic tug'yc, ti gar bintar.” You whisper as you lean back a little further, prompting a huff from the child watching you closely. Din’s arms wrap around you securely, making sure to not irritate your sore muscles. He’s gazing down at you with eyes so soft it makes your stomach swoop and your breath leave you quickly. Craning up slightly, you press your lips to the bump of his nose, hidden beneath his cowl and mask. His eyes are closed when you open your own back up.

You feel like home, my heart. Nowhere has felt like home since I sat in this very spot as a child. I’m glad to feel it again.

“Gar cuyir ner yaim, shi sa ni cuy' at gar. Sa munit sa gar vercopaanir par, mesh’la.” His words are soft, barely audible over the cresting waves. But you hear them, and they settle into your heart. Another kiss is pressed to his hidden face before you disentangle yourself from him with an airy laugh. Your robes bounce and flow all around you as you approach the child, feigning looking out at the water until the last moment, and you’ve closed the distance. Your sudden scoop of his small body startles laughter from him and you’re twirling effortlessly in the shallows as you hold him up in the air.

You are my home, just as I am to you. For as long as you wish, mesh’la.

Din watches from where the sand begins to slope, far enough from the water’s edge to not get sprinkled as the waves meet the shore but enough so to step in should something happen. You know he can see the small smile on your lips and hear the ringing of your combined laughter as you splash about in the cool water, never going in past your calves. Ad’ika is enjoying the way you dip him just at the waves receive, pulling him up to your chest when they flow toward you, little claws reaching for it below him.

His happiness infectious as you soon begin to commit the moment to your memory, tumbling the edges of old ones so they aren’t so sharp anymore.

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[kirishwima]

This is a kinda self insert thing but uh-

What if the jjk boys come hope one day to see their S/O taking down stickers they had on their wall. But putting up the stickers was one of the last activities they did with their family when they were younger. The boys knew this so they're super confused and stuff but their S/O is just like "Well, I figured they were really childish and if we're going to live together you probably wouldn't wanna see them everyday."

I'm so awkward, I'm sorry 😅

aweee sweetness thats so cute 🥺🥺 my room also used to be full of those glow in the dark stars i loved them

i cant really think of a way to format this into a SMAU BUT here's my thoughts on how they'd react on the matter!

Gojo would come into the room to tease you (like always) before noticing what you're doing, his grin immediately fading.

"Woah woah woah, what're you doing? Those looked so pretty why're you pulling them off?!"

When you explain why he just frowns, crosses his arms over his chest. He scoffs when you say they're 'childish', bending at the waist to lean closer to you.

"Babe, do you forget who you're gonna be living with? I love those silly stickers. Love 'em more 'cuz they're part of your story. So c'mon, let's get some tape and put them back up, hm? Oh! Better yet, let's add more!!"

...aaand that's how you end up with a wall full of various stickers, and whenever Satoru sees a sticker sheet he likes, he buys two pairs-one to put on his students' exam sheets when grading, and one to put up on the wall alongside the ones from your childhood ✨

Geto leans onto the door frame, observing you for a long moment, before asking "What're you doing?"

When you explain he just nods slowly, already scheming something behind those dark eyes of his.

"Baby, are you sure that's what you want? You know I don't mind one bit if those stickers are up there or not. If anything, I'm pretty sure the girls would love 'em."

When you insist he doesn't push it, lets you take them off the wall. The next day though when you get home, you find the wall the stickers were placed on has now been painted over with chalk paint-essentially turning the entire thing into to a black board, Nanako and Mimiko gleefully drawing flowers, bunnies, writing scribbles up on it with pink and blue chalk.

Suguru stands a few feet behind them, and though he's not writing anything right now, you can see a couple doodles clearly made by him up on the wall, his palms stained white and pink and blue. He turns to you with a grin, nodding for you to come closer.

When you do he hands you a few different colored chalks, kisses you on the cheek.

"I know those stickers held a ton of memories for you-so I figured since you took them off, we could make some new memories. Together."

Nanami comes home just as you remove the last sticker, noticing you piling the removed stickers on a nearby table. He frowns at your actions, asks you what it is you're doing. He...doesn't say much when you explain it to him, merely nods. You might've thought he didn't care-though you'd be wrong.

Later that night, you find Nanami at the living room, a file opened up on his lap, a clear film inside it where he oh-so-carefully sticks the stickers you'd taken off of the wall, delicately placing them so they resemble the constellation they were shaped like when placed onto the wall.

You lean over him to see what he's doing and he casually turns and kisses you, smiling.

"These mean a lot to you. Just because they're not placed up on display still doesn't mean they deserve to be discarded."

So that's how you end up with the so-called 'memory file', wherein you place little bobs and trinkets from your life with Nanami-ticket stubs, polaroid pictures, and of course, those stickers.

[acotarxreader]

Say My Name

Azriel x Reader

Synopsis: After being separated from his brothers by the High Lord of Night, Azriel becomes accustomed to the new chain of command in his life, lead by you. But with the Mortal Realm war beginning to rage, will your relationship move beyond professional

Warnings: Angst.

A/N: Man, writing this made me so unsure of the timeline of the world before Feyre and the girliepops entered, I just used this one to aid the fleshing out of this story. There is a part two that I have half written but maybe you guys would prefer this as the stand alone it is now? Let me know! Also gawk in my part of the world means to get sick (fellow Irish friends can probably tell what part of the country I'm in by that lol) and I kept rereading the line I wrote and laughing.

P.S adularescence is the shimmer from moonstone hehe I love her

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

Azriel lay staring up at the decadent ceiling of his new room in the House of Wind. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the intricate detailing in almost two hours, doing what he could to dissociate from his feelings having just been separated from the only family he ever knew. The clock ticking deafened him, soon it would be morning and he would begin work as the High Lord of Night’s personal Spymaster. He couldn’t stop his mind racing but forced his eyes closed, he would be no used to his brother's sleep-deprived. It felt as though the moment his eyes shut, the sun rose and his personal valet entered the room with his clean uniform. 

“Morning Sir” the clear sharp voice sent Azriel out of his bed and onto his feet as the staff member whipped the curtains open after placing the uniform over the chaise. 

“Sir is not necessary” 

“Yes Sir” Azriel decided to not push back further, only moving to dress himself quickly behind his folding screen as the valet left him alone again. Azriel took a deep breath, clearing his lungs out entirely while running his hands through his hair.

“Spymaster, you are required in the drawing room”

“One moment” Azriel fought the urge to sigh before following the voice into the hallway and eventually to the drawing room of the House of Wind. 

The long table reached nearly the length and breadth of the opulent room, a far cry from Windhaven. Azriel took in the faces of the High Lord's staff as they busied themselves around the room, servicing the various members of the Inner Circle of Rhysand’s father.

He took an empty seat closest to the door, the chaos of the makeshift war room giving him some sense of normalcy. He surveyed his hands on his lap whilst reminding himself to breathe until he felt the heat of a stare bore into the side of his head. He lifted his gaze to the direction of the inspection to find your moonstone-coloured eyes scanning him, the only female in the room with a seat at the table. You looked away as if bored by the prospect of him catching your eyeline, landing them back on the High Lord’s empty chair. 

You took a long, almost laboured breath out before standing, the chaotic room entirely stilling at the action, Azriel filed this reaction away immediately. You couldn’t have been much older than him if at all and yet you commanded this room better than any other he’d seen before.

“Well, now that we’ve all arrived-” more eyes fell sympathetically on Azriel, he hadn’t realised he was late “-Ah, keen eyes have found a new member of us, perhaps you are not all so useless after all-” a slight laugh left the group at your dry tone “-Azil is joining us from-”

“-Azriel” he corrected you, every head turning in his direction now, a lump growing in his throat at the feeling, his shadows curling around his ankles in an attempt to comfort. 

“Huh, cute-” you scoffed out “-Spymaster, interrupt me again and no one will have a need to remember your name” Ice nearly leached from your speech, Azriel was making a great first impression with his new command.

“-Right, Azriel, will be the new Spymaster for the High Lord, like the rest of you he will report to me and Azil-”

“-Azriel, intel must need help if you don’t even know my name” he mentally cursed himself for cutting across you again, especially when he noticed the room's eyes fixating forward on the table and not on him.

“Anyways, smartass Spymasters aside, we all have our assignments for next week’s gathering in Hewn City, and arrangements have been made for travel. This is purely a diplomatic function, to help strengthen Winter Court relations, you know where I am if you have questions, which isn’t an invitation to have questions” You spoke with such commanding energy, the room hanging on every word before you gave a half nod and made an exit, trailed by two other members of the council. The room sprang back into chaos and revelry in your absence. 

“She is not to be feared just because of her position” he retorted, moving to stand only to halt at the laugh from the Fae adjacent to him..

“Are you fucking insane Spymaster? I guess they don’t teach common sense at Windhaven-”

“-Illyrians can’t be taught what isn’t natural to them” Azriel’s eyes cut into the Court member who made the throw-away comment before looking back to the High Fae who first addressed him. Benson was as close to your second in command as you could have, he was fiercely loyal and even more so unpredictable. Rhysand had mentioned him before to Azriel, that he had been one of his Father’s most beloved assassins and where possible was to be avoided, great job so far Azriel thought to himself.

“YN is to be respected Spymaster” Benson bit out. YN, had Rhysand ever mentioned that name he thought? Azriel furrowed his brow, deciding he had given into enough of their squabbling, choosing to leave the room. He missed his brothers. 

“Oh she loves to break the clever ones”

“He can’t be that clever if he challenges her” Benson smirked.

“Well she can’t be that much of a challenge if a simple correction throws her off” Azriel shot back at the third High Fae to join the gang up. 

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

For the next week, Azriel familiarised himself with the House of Wind and its quirky residents. He searched for you in the meetings he attended but never found you, he was beginning to think you were a sleep-deprived dream until your silhouette caught his eye during his training exercise outside. He watched you walk the length of the boundary balcony of the House of Wind, deep within your thoughts as he found his legs bringing him closer to you, eyes fixated on the back of your head. 

“Take a mental image, Spymaster, it’ll last longer” You sighed at him before turning around. You shone to him in the light of the Summer sun, positively glowing as though you were made of the light itself. You rolled your eyes at his gawking before turning back again, Azriel only then realising he had been staring. 

“I suppose your silence means the others have warned you, shame you were interesting for half a second there” You almost laughed the words out, surveying Velaris below as Azriel moved to your side and took in the view of Rhysands beloved city.

“I’m sorry about inter-”

“Don’t apologise, Spymaster, just don’t do it again” You glanced at his beautiful face for only a moment before pulling your eyes back again. Azriel left the somewhat easing air still for a moment before speaking again. 

“You can call me by my name”

“I’d rather not gain that level of familiarity with your Spymaster” You clicked your tongue off your teeth.

“You don’t seem much older than I am” he was feeling bold, his loneliness in the Court of much older members starting to weigh on him. 

“I didn’t know the High Lord had high-ranking females in his Court”

“It’s just me, the other applicants for my job were found to be unfit by the time of application” You gave a somewhat dark laugh that Azriel found himself smiling at. 

“Good because I’m not” You laughed fully this time, stealing another glance at the Illyrian, Azriel wishing secretly to keep your iridescent eyes on him for the rest of his days. 

“Rhysand hadn’t mentioned you” You broke the look at the mention of the High Lord's son, not going unnoticed by Azriel.

“That does not concern you Spymaster, nor should it so that perhaps is best left there” 

“YN, they’re ready!” Benson called from the steps of the House and you gave a little sigh at the interruption.

“Your keeper is calling YN” Azriel smiled and you scoffed lightly before turning in the direction of the steps. 

“Make yourself useful tonight Spymaster, diplomatic gathering or not, there’s always war games going on” Azriel found it difficult to tear his eyes from you as you joined Benson’s side and dipped back into the shadows.

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

The Hewn City gathering was colossal, Fae from both Night and Winter danced and drank and rejoiced in the music of the live band, the two High Lords watching on with amusement and suspicion of one another. Azriel stole Mor away the second he landed his eyes on her, desperate for some ounce of familiarity. The two reconnected and recounted the time they had been apart, enjoying one another's company against the backdrop of the Court of Nightmares. 

Azriel excused himself for a moment from his friend, moving across the vast dance floor to retrieve a drink. A hand suddenly went around his mouth from behind as he reached the edge of the ballroom floor. He felt his body be hauled backwards, almost too stunned at the boldness to fight back. You let go of Azriel once you reached the service hallway of the ballroom before you pushed him back into a tiny disused service closet. 

“What the fuck?!” Azriel evened his breathing out in the dark small space, pushing away the deeply repressed memories, your presence having a soothing effect on him he didn’t care to acknowledge.

“What information had Morrigan?” you bit out through the dim light, Azriel’s eyes adjusting as yours seemingly glowed.

“None to concern yourself with YN” Azriel rolled his shoulders, fighting to pull back some ounce of the composure he lost with being so close to you in the enclosed space. 

“Everything with her concerns me” Your serious tone gave Azriel pause, as you glanced out the hall to check if you had been followed. 

“We were discussing how much we miss Rhysand and Cassian” Your head shot back to him with the sound of their names, reclosing the door as you went, sealing back in the darkness. Azriel shuffled slightly at the return of the sealed door, trying his best to not show his rising discomfort.

“What’s wrong Spymaster?”

“I-I I don’t like enclosed spaces” he admitted, forcing the maroon in his cheeks away before it could rise. He waited for the ridicule that normally followed from that admission but it never came. You seemed to look at him knowingly before pushing the door open slightly so it was ajar, a small stream of light leaking in. 

“Why hasn’t he mentioned you?” 

“There, no big deal”

“That’s what Rhys says about it too” You scoffed at his words

“Not here” you warned but that wasn’t a complete shutdown of the conversation so Azriel felt somewhat hopeful he’d get to continue to unravel your mystery. You shuffled slightly under Azriel’s gentle intrigued gaze. 

“You’re the one who hauled me in here, can I go? Or are you avoiding your handler?” 

“Stop staring at me”

“It’s hard not to”

“Well figure it out” Neither of you could look away from one another.

“No one can handle me” you half scoffed.

“Bet I could give it a shot” You raised an eyebrow at him before stepping even closer to his challenging tone, your chests and toes now touching.

“Not afraid of me Azriel?” You whispered so softly Azriel for a brief moment thought he misheard but the sound of his name on your tongue would never be something he’d mistake. 

“Petrified” He moved a rogue strand of hair from your face, doing his best to not touch his scarred hand off your delicate skin. 

“Good” You leaned in further, as you caught hold of Azriel’s hand, his feelings towards his biggest insecurity melting away. He felt his heart race as he leaned into the space between you both until your head fully pulled back from his reach and you released his hand. 

“Something is wrong” Your head snapped to the door, raising a finger up a few inches from Azriel’s face to prevent him from questioning you. 

“Fuck” You whispered, leaning down to your boot and withdrawing a sharp dagger. 

“Take this and don’t get fucking killed, bail out before you let that happen to you Spymaster” You didn’t give Azriel a chance to be offended before you flung the door open and began to run down the hall, retrieving another blade from our thigh, Azriel hot on your heels. 

The two of you burst into a scene of total and utter chaos, members of both Courts screamed and tried to escape the onslaught of individuals sheathed in black. You sprang into action, catching hold of two not so stealthy characters, and taking them out with one swish of your blade. Azriel dashed towards the Lady of the Night Court, the superhero of his childhood, his turn to defend her. Azriel was almost in arms reach of her before he was sent sailing to the floor by the heavy body of one of the assailants. Before he could react, he felt their warm blood hit the side of his face, looking to find Benson holding the Fae's head in his hand. Rhysand’s mother reached for Azriel as he shot back up to his feet, taking hold of her arm and winnowing her away from the sheer pandemonium. 

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

Hours later Azriel stayed pacing up and down the hallway in front of your office, waiting for your return. The sound of your strained voice saying goodbye to Benson filled the hallway before you strode down it alone, hair dishevelled and covered in a layer of crimson not belonging to you. 

“YN” Azriel tried not to startle you as he stood out from the shadows, only gaining a slight reaction from your exhausted state.

“What do you want Spymaster?” You half sighed out, reaching to unlock the door of your office, your muscles straining.

“You can say that all you like YN but I don’t believe you”

“I just wanted to see if you're alright?”

“There’s no need to, of course I am, part of the day job” you grunted, the door finally giving in under your weight. You threw down the dirty weapons onto the chaise before rolling your neck and sinking into your chair behind the giant oak desk as Azriel almost sheepishly followed you in. He watched you lift a heavy hand to the side of your neck, just catching a glimpse of a fresh gash before you hid it with the collar of your shirt. Had that been your punishment for not knowing the attack was going to occur Azriel thought. You tossed your legs onto the desk as Azriel closed the door behind him.

“What did I say about interrupting me?” Your legs found the ground again as you leaned into the desk, attempting to cut Azriel with your eyes.

“I’m really not yours to worry about Spymas-”

“-Azriel, my name is Azriel” It came out of him more clipped than intended but Azriel would not become nameless in this Court.

“You can interrupt me but I can’t interrupt you, how is that fair?!”

“News flash Spymaster, nothing in this Court is fair. I will not tolerate being disrespected by a male of lower rank than me” You stood, closing the distance between you, your sharp tone matching his. Azriel’s hand shot for your collar and for a split second you thought he was going to hit you and you’d be responsible for another death that day but no, it instead tugged down the collar of your leathers revealing a fresh weeping gash. You gulped slightly at the motion but didn’t pull back from his touch, if anything you found yourself leaning into him.

“Did the High Lord do that to you because of today?” His eyes bore into the marking occupying his bone-chilling tone.

“Yes” you said faintly, his hazel eyes landing on yours as their adularescence flickered. 

“I should kill him where he stands” he moved so painfully slowly, his lips ever so tenderly met the top of the gash before he calmly pulled back, dropping his hand and moving towards the door, stopping in front of it as you spoke again.

“Are you threatening my High Lord in front of me, Azriel?” You tried to stop your voice from shaking as your eyes were fixated on his back.

“YN, I believe you’re the first person since my brothers that I would tear the world apart for” he breathed without returning to you again and passing through the doorway.

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

Whatcha think? A second part required or is the open ending fun? Hehe Let me know what you think friends!

[randomfoggytiger]

Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part IX): An Episode of Mad About You

It's hard to know how soon after Three Words this episode takes place, much less speculate what happened in-between.

The X-Files' timeline has always moved at an incredibly rapid, incredibly unreasonable pace; so we can assume less than a week (if not a day or two) has transpired since Mulder and TLG's break into the DOD. He and Scully must have had a conversation of some sort sometime afterwards (though that conversation might have taken different routes depending on the viewer's discernment, discussed at length here) based purely on their body language during the opening scenes and ensuing events.

Speculation aside, Empedocles is the first time Mulder draws direct lines between himself and the baby (despite the fact he already knew Scully's baby was his, post here.)

Let's go~!

THE MULDER MATING RITUAL

Knock knock, someone’s at the door. 

Scully appears from the right side of her kitchen, walking as fast as she can to the peephole. Not fast enough, apparently, because her visitor knocks, loudly, three more times. (Impatience, thy name is Mulder. At least that hasn’t changed, in spite of your absence and personal crisis.)

 Scully peeks through-- always cautious-- and is surprised to see who's there: her skeptical face reappears quite naturally at this latest, unexpected antic (or in expectation of a new, unexpected antic.) 

She opens the door to a casually relaxed Mulder, who quickly leans against the door frame right as Scully comes into view.

Mulder is here with aplomb, with a theatrical little plan that he intends to act out: the Mulder Mating Ritual, wherein he brings a trinket to the nest then dances around both of their feelings in an attempt to communicate without communicating.

It’s a sign that nature is healing-- more accurately, that Mulder is; and that he wants to reclaim his old life with Scully.

“Mulder…” Scully whines, adorably plaintive as she winds up an excuse not to go off on his latest goose chase. She also isn’t outright saying she can’t go, a sure Scully sign that she can be persuaded. 

Mulder senses that Scully is game-- or willing to be wheedled into one-- and commits fully to the Mulder Mating Ritual (as it shall now be called.) Whipping his head from its side-pivot (where he had indirectly assessed her mood and possible rejection), his eyes snap to hers, comedically wide and oozing with faux innocence. 

“What?” he asks, reeling her in. 

The interaction shows that something has been ironed out between them, whether in full or half-detail, between the conclusion of Three Words and opening of Empedocles. While we’ll never know exactly what was said, something had to have been based on the ease with which they speak to each other (closer to their Season 7 interactions, for example, than any season before it) and their body language throughout this scene.  

Scully-- who is not a fool and knows Mulder code down to a miniscule blink-- looks at him with an equal mix of resignation (for her peaceful pizza and shower moment) and blooming hope (for his return to buoyant Mulder Play.) Still, she tries to mitigate some of the impending disruption to her anticipated ritual, hiding a full smile while tumbling out a perfectly legitimate excuse to not go wandering (read: waddling) off somewhere. 

“I was just about to jump in the shower but I was waiting for the pizza man.” 

Immediately, Mulder sees an opportunity to tease and seizes upon it. 

“You got something going on with the pizza man that I should know about?” he responds, squinting in mock jealousy: a picture of the scorned husband who returned from his travels, bearing gifts and love, only to find his female consorting (and creating babies) with another. A copy of the bantery one he gave in Three Words.

This is incredibly important: Mulder is playing the role of jealous husband because he is secure in Scully’s loyalty, but even more importantly because he is secure in the baby’s paternity. As much as his partner knows him, he knows his partner: that Scully hasn’t betrayed or replaced him (discussed at length in-depth in this, this, this, this, this, and this post.) 

Scully is highly amused-- and charmed-- at this display of put-upon machismo. 

She digests his comeback a second before asking, “The pizza man?”, dipping her head incredulously at the stretches Mulder has always been able to reach. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Mulder continues, full steam ahead, “but you just said you were waiting for the pizza man to jump in the shower.”

He hides the sparkle in his eye with an slightly angry, slightly aghast expression, maintaining it while Scully jumps in with a “No--” 

“--what I mean was, the pizza man is usually late, and so…”

Scully trails off, intuiting that the angle her partner is playing is one of dense relentlessness: no matter how she tries to talk herself out of word traps, Mulder will find another angle and “aha!” his way to the top. Her intuition is confirmed as she examines his face, his second (mock-indignant) squint, and the sparkle in his eyes while he waits for her to verbally trip up. 

All excellent signs: he isn't treating her-- and their relationship-- like glass, instead reverting back to his annoying, endearing ways. 

Giving up, she cuts to the chase-- “Do you want to come in?”-- preferring that to outthinking Mulder’s next mental twister. Some games, she figures, are best fought on a full stomach.

Mulder, true to form, keeps up the mock squint and "Thank you" until he's certain he won that round. Like she suspected.  

As they both turn in, Mulder does a side-shimmy to hide his present while Scully huffs off, indulgently, to the bathroom (it looks like) to turn off the water-- a sure sign she knows her partner will stay a while. 

“I feel like I’m stuck in an episode of Mad About You,” she remarks, poking at this weird style of miscommunication more in-line with an everyday couples' squabbles and misunderstandings than their own particular partnership. In essence, calling Mulder out. 

Not to be outdone-- even while juggling a present and mentally running through places to hide it--  he stalls, “Well, uh, yeah--,” closes the door “--but small technicality--” spots the couch, locks the door, and stuffs the gift behind a pillow “--Mad About You is about a married couple, and we just work together.”

In any other set of circumstances, this would have been an accusation; but here, perversely, it’s a healthy sign of their relationship: Mulder wins an argument because neither of them are married, despite her pregnancy; and Scully grumbles over her defeat instead of his remark, knowing there was no ulterior motive behind his words. A mutual back-and-forth.

“Yeah, well, you know what I’m talking about,” she brushes aside, not wanting to dwell on Mulder's victory. And also bringing up, obliquely, a more domestic-focused conversation-- one that features a certain mad-for-each-other couple now on much better terms.)   

“I do, I do. What I’m, what I’m trying to say is, that, uh,” Mulder says, shifting his weight before putting his hands in his pockets and carefully reordering his thoughts.

His actions reveal Mulder isn’t here just to play around and leave-- he’s put careful thought and planning into this visit, finding a present for the baby (his baby) at his mother's and teasing his way into Scully’s apartment to open (in some manner of form) a more serious (perhaps permanent) conversation between them. 

Mulder’s silent for a few seconds, weighing how he wants to continue their interaction; but ultimately slips back to the comfortable familiarity of banter (although he will segue into more personal gestures: pointing at Scully’s belly, directing her to the gift with his eyes, misconstruing her “package” remarks because of his internal focus, leading them both to a touching exchange over his beautifully wrapped offering, etc.)

“We have no good reliable information on this man--”

Scully re-enters, eating out of his hand until Mulder's tired old trust no one schtick kills her enthralled curiosity. She majestically raises her head in judgment, the very picture of one bored and above-it-all, then tilts it and dons her work eyebrow (the one that tells Mulder she’s trying to figure out if he’s serious or not.)   

Sensing this shift (not a dangerous one, just one further away from his intended goal), Mulder swiftly re-centers the conversation away from conspiracy and back to jealousy. 

Comically raising his eyebrows and jovially pointing at the baby, he continues “--that the pizza man--” then abruptly stops, expression turning gentle as he watches the bump approach.  

“--is not above suspicion,” Mulder softly finishes, eyes still glued to his baby. 

Scully stares down at her bump in turn, unsure what Mulder means.

It would seem by her body language this is the first direct, personal reference he has made to the baby; and she carefully puzzles over his layered meaning before taking it in the spirit he meant it: personal. 

She sighs-- a little embarrassed, a lot relieved. Shyly keeping her head down, she whispers, “I see”; and, again, in any other circumstance, that could have been a dejected or lost or nervous response to a husband’s paternity concerns. Here, however, it’s another sign of health: that she understands Mulder is no longer avoiding the baby-- including it in his Mad About You scenario-- and that she is readjusting herself in this sudden onslaught of information. 

When she’s ready-- two or three seconds later-- Scully looks up with a knowing smile: she caught his meaning, got it, and is letting Mulder know she understood.   

And Mulder, delighted, turns the conversation to her prize, motioning his eyes back and forth from Scully to the couch. (He’s always loved giving gift-loving Scully surprises, after all.) 

She doesn’t understand at first, moving her head in janky segments until she catches sight of the wrapping paper. 

“Is that for me?” 

“Yeah,” Mulder replies, nodding and smirking over her suppressed, though obvious, delight. 

“Nice package,” Scully comments; and misses her partner’s flustered but touched “Thank you” as she bends to retrieve her bounty. “What’s the occasion?”

“Oh!” Mulder responds, catching the actual drift of her conversation. 

As a side note: her comment doesn’t seem to have been deliberately made to mess with Mulder: usually, Scully will fully face her partner when teasing him, wanting to see his face register and react to her comment. Here, however, she doesn’t. Further, she is so zeroed-in on the gift that she talks right over his thank you. So, the moment’s comedy seems to stem from karma getting Mulder for his morning games rather than Scully intentionally tripping him up. 

Voice quieting as he transitions to a more serious topic, Mulder explains, “I was going through some stuff, after my mother died, and, um….” 

He stops to bite his lip, and Scully looks down, respectfully giving him the space he needs; but, recovering quickly, he continues, and Scully reestablishes eye contact. 

“...it’s just an old family keepsake; and I wanted you to have it.” Mulder keeps his eyes down-- another sign that he’s serious about this-- and swallows before gazing at Scully again: nervous, obliquely giving away his own intentions. 

Scully catches, gets, and lets him know, again, that she’s caught, got, and understood his motives: “Well, I’m touched.” 

There’s a knock at the door, and Mulder lunges for a lifeline away from his vulnerability: “Little Caesar, I presume?” with another jealous deadpan, yet again. 

Her amusement is tempered: Mulder may want to escape his declaration, but it stays with her, giving her peace. He’s doing his best, given the circumstances; and, though Mulder hasn’t outright laid claims to the baby, they both know he’d considered it his. Moreover, Scully’s happy that not only does he consider it his, but he’s also taking steps to become more involved. He just needs time; and she’s had more than enough to process his abduction, his death, and his resurrection. Giving him some in exchange seems small-- and, really, when has it ever been too large a thing between them? 

Scully waits for him to turn away before smiling to herself: radiant, hopeful, content. 

Mulder, never one to to curb his actions or reactions in front of others, isn’t going to stop now, involving the pizza man in his shenanigans. 

And any sense of shame or embarrassment Scully might have felt being part of these shenanigans is long gone. However, he will not tie her to the mast of his behavior and take her down with him. “Hi. Just, uh, give it to the man with the funny look on his face,” she instructs, sitting down with her gift on her lap. 

An important side note: Scully, it seems, expects Mulder to bring the pizza to her while she opens her gift (which is proven correct by the end of Empedocles)-- a set-up-and-follow-through.  

Pizza boy is unfazed by their interactions. “Yeah, that’s $29.08.”

Cheapskate Mulder is snapped out of his playacting by the stunning reality of pizza over $10. “‘$29.08’? What’d she get on it, a tank of gas?” 

CONCLUSION

And that’s the last bit of fun they have before the next crisis. 

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[conceptofjoy]

17776 Au idea below

Immortal Dirk would be a miserable man. It’s like he just kept waiting and waiting for SOMETHING his whole life, and it just never got to him. He can’t die respected or acknowledged like he thought he would get to be so he keeps living as nothing.

He was happy to work at NASA, he worked hard for his career. When the immortal thing happened, he was part of the lucrative team of scientists that did everything they could to research the reasoning of it and then after, he worked on making everything run smoothly for humanity. Then it just. Teetered off.

He and Roxy made a pact to check up on each other every other year. Then five years, then ten. They would drag each other out of their respective spirals, but Roxy broke out of the pattern. Dirk did not. He refused to reach out to her every time it happened. Roxy doesn’t want to be caught in the past by Dirk who is unwilling to get better. Lord knows she tried everything, but he has to wake the fuck up. If Dirk gave her a call ONCE, she would welcome him with open arms.

Once upon a time, he strictly followed an image of masculinity. He carried Cal around, worked his 9-5 (and more) without fuss, and he was PROUD of it. When the evolution of societal norms left him in the dust, he was shaken. He calls himself a man but he doesn’t know what that means. His self doubt runs deep, and the doubt is the reason why he ends up deeming himself not worthy of self care. He lets his hair grow exceedingly long, doesn’t shower as much as he’d like to, doesn’t eat beyond what the nanobots give him, he does the bare minimum to survive. He hasn’t left his apartment in decades, and frankly, he's afraid to leave.

==> Enter Hal. He’s New Horizons. I was going to choose Mars Odyssey, but the Hal thing would then not be something he chose. There’s a probe called MUSE and Roman which could be the cherubs, but I think they could also be non-probe tech that gained sentience. 

It’s something Dirk had done, he had developed a special interest for New Horizons. Roxy shared with him different files that NH had made, since it had become somewhat of a special interest. As the years went by and NASA tech wasnt so heavily guarded, she had given him access to the probe as like, a semi live feed. There wasn’t a ton to watch obviously, but he enjoyed scrolling through the data that it sent back. He became overzealous though, poking around in the software, he developed a rudimentary AI like it was one of his bots. Now instead of just inputting a command to receive data, he was able to actually converse with NH to get them as well as have conversations about the findings. He was eventually caught and reprimanded, but in the greater scale of things happening in the world, it wasn’t too bad, I guess? He became part of a team to develop other AI for the public to talk to because it’s VERY important to encourage hobbies or new careers in an environment like this. He helped draw out some plans, but didn’t actually work on other AIs because, creating varied ‘fake’ personalities didn’t appeal to him.

That AI became the basis of the ego that NH formed. Thus Hal came to be. It’s also the reason why he immediately seeked out Dirk to shake all the answers he could from him. He absolutely caught Dirk’s attention, his speech patterns being familiar to him, he set up the quantum messaging immediately. Hal here doesn’t aaaactually have his memories, but his “inimitably rad typing style, tone, cadence, and personality are pretty damn indistinguishable from DS's native neurological responses”.

They talk for a while, and then Dirk literally fucking passes out because that’s like the most his body has done for years. Hal is like oh shit did I do that??? And feels guilty so he texts Roxy. She’s HYPED that he’s a sentient probe too like another one she chats with, but becomes wistful because of how much Hal reminds her of Dirk. Hal is surprised that they don’t talk until he isn’t. Hal is two seconds into awareness and is already plotting shit. He doesn’t want Roxy to deal with his issues again, so elects to help him by hacking into one of the bots he’s made. They’re like all mirrors of his younger bro-ish self but in various levels of damage because he’s just a fucked up dude. It’s also the reason why none of his bots gained sentience, all too broken internally to do so. He couldn’t touch NH because it technically didn’t belong to him.

Hal is pre-disillusioned Dirk. He gets that he has a fuck ton of illnesses and neurosis unchecked, but like he could have never guessed as to why he fell THIS hard. Why he stopped taking his fucking testosterone too? Bc he’s like always strived to atain this ‘peak’ level of masculinity. It takes a while for Hal to mentally be on the same page as him bc of that dissonance. It’s what Hal does in the au, he takes it upon himself to be his therapist (bro doe NOT know what he’s doing) and helps him recover as well as reaches out to his old friends to see if they’d like to talk to him again. Dirk’s fuckin terrified by the idea, but it goes slowly. Jane’s up first, then Jake and Roxy.

Dirk also confronts Hal about his own anxieties about being alone. He’s one of the pinnacles for pre-immortal earth, but does he feel obsolete? He is also unable to die a hero, immortal until… Well I guess forever. Earth will move on without him, and he’ll stay frozen like a prehistoric bug trapped in amber. Both of them are dissociated from greater society.

[aspiring-artist-em]

Crimson Rivers, is it back? What now? Does that mean Zar is back?

So, like a normal, sane reader, when I get an AO3 notification, I immediately drop everything and check it out. In my little tiny brain filled with angst and smut, I was thinking that it was maybe a chapter being updated, or maybe someone I love replying to a comment I left about how their writing is so fantastic and giving them vivid descriptions of how I wish to burn it into my brain because how good it is. Turns out, that was not the case.

It was a fucking notification about Crimson Rivers being posted.

I sat on my bed, and just stared. My brain wasn’t working. I was halfway though a bag of chips that my dog really wanted and staring at an email that bizarrestars fucking posted Crimson Rivers.

And Best Friend’s Brother.

And Just Lovers.

And all of those fics I was dying to read were back. All the fics that had me frothing at the mouth with want and the insatiable urge to consume everything he put back out into the world. And so, I followed the link in my email and oh my god-

They were back.

All of them. 

Every single one of their fics was back up and I was fucking psyched because I have an AO3 account and I have access to it again. Me, along with many other fans of his works and readers in this fandom, texted friends and loved ones. We smiled and downloaded the files, swearing that we will never lose those works again. 

___

So, like a normal, sane author, when I get an AO3 notification, I immediately drop everything and check it out. In my little pea brain filled with ways to torture my readers and ways to get them off through my words, I was thinking that maybe someone had kindly left a kudos on my work, or maybe even comment on it. All my works are ongoing and to be honest, I was a little scared to open my email because what if it's a negative comment? What if it’s someone telling me that they hate me because I’m sick and twisted, writing the filth I do. What if it’s someone telling me that they hate how I made a certain character bisexual because in their mind, bisexual women can't also be attracted to women? What if it’s someone telling me that the trauma I write about is misrepresented and that I am an awful person for romanticizing it when I swear I’m not, when I know that I’m drawing from experience. What if it’s someone saying the aforementioned trauma is too dramatized, and that the way that I write it as something to be worked through, doesn’t fit their “one kiss and all the bad memories go away” narrative they have in their head. What if it’s someone telling me I should be ashamed, telling me that I am disgusting, telling me that I shouldn't write what I write even though I have hyperlinks embedded in my fics and even though I have additional warnings per chapter and even though I have so many tags the plot is given away. Turns out, that is not the case.

It was a fucking notification about Crimson Rivers being posted.

I sat on my bed, and just stared. My brain wasn’t working. I was halfway though a bag of chips that my dog really wanted and staring at an email that bizarrestars fucking posted Crimson Rivers.

And Best Friend’s Brother.

And Just Lovers.

And all of those fics people were dying to read were back. All the fics that had people online frothing at the mouth with want and the insatiable urge to consume everything he put back out into the world. And so, I followed the link in my email and

oh my god-

They were back.

All of them.

Every single one of their fics was back up and I was filled with fucking dread, because all I could focus on is how there’s a shiny new prongsfoot fic right there on the top of their page, the first thing people will see. All I could think about is how they talked about people not respecting their wishes with their fics  and how people on the internet are fucking relentless. All I could think about are the videos I will see with people complaining that they can’t read it because they don't have an AO3 account and people attacking them for the two chapter prongsfoot fic right there, and how people fucking idolized the guy, putting him on a pedestal and hailing him as the “best fanfic writer ever, right there along with misskingbean (who may or may not be Taylor swift (I swear, Taylor is NOT misskingbean))”All I could think about is the exit he, and MANY OTHER authors made because people got ahold of their work and were fucking rude about it. All I could think of is someone who was practically pushed off the internet for doing what he loves so well that people started hating when he wrote what he wanted to write, and how now, he’s back and honestly, it scares me a little bit because he didn’t deserve the hell people put him through.

___

Crimson rivers, is it back? What now? Does that mean Zar is back? Short answer, yes, yes, and yes. Long answer, yes but only if you have an AO3 account and ONLY IF people can be fucking nice this time around and maybe remember that zar is a fucking person with fucking feelings and something called a fucking mental health to take care of. Authors have feelings too, we aren’t some mindless fic generator. If you want that, go to chat gtp or some shit. We put our hearts and souls into our work and share it because we want to put it out there, not because we want to get bullied.

Now, I know what you're going to say, “oh, but I just really loved the guy, he was like the second coming of christ with his words like I just really wanted to read more because I loved him so much, like I forgot he was a human because I just loved him and a little love never hurt anyone.” 

But like, that’s also really fucking problematic and actually obsessive. Just think about it. Like this guy is a person and like, maybe you shouldn’t treat him like he is anything more OR ANYTHING LESS. Like honestly, he probably didn't start posting his work to gain fame, like this was probably really unexpected for him. AND EVEN IF HE DID, IT DOESN’T MEAN YOU GET TO TREAT HIM LIKE A FUCKING PRODUCT GOD DAMN. Like, this is a PERSON. Imagine if your best friend or little sibling came to you and was talking about people putting enormous pressure on them and being obsessed with everything they do and how they feel like they have to be perfect and please everyone because if they don't, they’ll get harassed online and like, it’s genuinely damaging their mental health. Like, imagine if that happened to you. What would you tell them? Well, hopefully, you would tell them that those people are fucking obsessed and that they need to take a break and maybe, just maybe remove the works so they could put their mind to rest, because that’s better than this. Like come on everyone, can’t you fucking see the problem with that? Idolization and bullying go hand in hand and the poor guy has been though enough. 

Also, remember, be kind to the guy and like, idk, treat him with fucking human decency? Don't deadname him maybe? Don't like, idolize him? Don't get mad when he writes what he wants to fucking write because you don't like it? And maybe like, respect his wishes? It should be pretty fucking simple tbh, but apparently it's a difficult task for some of you. He isn’t a fucking god and maybe like, before you comment, actually sit there and reflect on what you are going to say to him.

SO MAYBE, BEFORE YOU COMMENT SHIT, REMEMBER THAT ZAR’S, (and, for the record, every other author’s) MENTAL HEALTH IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN A 800K WORD STORY ABOUT DEAD WIZARDS. LIKE PLEASE, YOU CAN FUCKING LIVE WITHOUT ONE SPECIFIC FIC WHEN THERE ARE SO MANY OTHER FICS OUT THERE, AND SO MAYBE LIKE, REMEMBER TO RESPECT THE AUTHORS WHO WRITE YOUR STORIES.

MAYBE, JUST MAYBE, BEFORE YOU SAY SHIT, THINK ABOUT WHY HE FUCKING LEFT IN THE FIRST PLACE, DEAR GOD.

[joycew-art]

Someone asked what my process was to make the Rickbot comic, so I thought I'd make a separate post to show it. The process was kinda all over the place and spread over many months from December 2022 up till June 2023, so I'll try my best to make it understandable. And if you have any questions feel free to ask them!

The idea

So it all started with the idea of; What if Rickbot came back? And then the idea immediately made me think of two things;

How would Rickbot react?

Why is he brought back?

Which ended up with these two scenarios in my mind;

A. Rickbot awakens and he's not happy B. Rick tells the reason he's activated again

These were the very first scenes that started it all.

So then the question became, how do I go from point A to point B?

I would take moments from the show as reference for how they would act in these scenarios. And I'd take inspiration from manga and other comics of how I wanted the dialogue to flow and what the comic layouts would look like. In this case I knew a lot of dialogue would be involved cause these guys talk a lot! But I also didn't want the panels to feel too crowded and rushed so I limited myself to the amount of dialogue per panel.

Right now I'm writing it down like it was very planned, but for me this was often a very subconscious thing I did. I just thought up scenarios while I was taking walks or daydreaming in the shower etc. And sometimes these very specific moments would pop up that I would write down or draw out later.

I would make mini thumbnails of how I wanted the pages to go and write the dialogue next to it. At this point I'm mainly thinking of what I want characters to say and how I want the story to flow. Sometimes I make multiple versions of the same scenario to see how it flows better.

At times I even only write down dialogue and then make the thumbnails for them later. I have a tiny a6 sketchbook for little thumbnails and ideas like this. These were often moments were I didn't know where I wanted to take the comic yet, so I would separate the two to keep it more organized for myself.

As you might have noticed, not everything is the same in the final comic. I always fine-tune or change stuff up as I go. Sometimes things don't flow as well as I thought they did or some dialogue feels awkward or unnecessary.

Sketching

Once all the pages were planned and I have a good idea of how the story would go I opened a new Clip Studio Paint file and used the comic feature to set that up.

I would then copy the thumbnails I made in the page files and exported a thumbnail draft of the whole comic and 'read' through it to see how it flowed.

After I was satisfied I finally started sketching the pages.

Most of the pages stayed the same from the thumbnail, aside from some poses or expressions here and there. But I would also change up stuff I wasn't satisfied with.

For example, initially the Prime panel looked like the left one, but I didn't like how the pose flowed with the text balloons. There was a lot of empty space as well. So I decided to redo it to the one on the right.

Even now for the final version I'm thinking of resizing Rick a bit more. These kind of changes just happen throughout the process.

The backgrounds

I knew the comic would only take place in the garage, so to save myself a lot of time I decided to make it in 3d.

First I decided to sketch out the four walls of the garage as planes;

Then I imported those in Blender. I did some simple 3d modeling to get the basic shapes for the counters and the cabinet et voila! 3d sketch version of the garage!

I know this is a very watered down explanation, but trying to explain how I did it would take a whole new tutorial. And there are many other ones out there that explain it much better than I could. I was lucky that I already have some Blender experience cause of past works I've done for school and stuff.

But if you got the time to delve into it I would recommend it! For this here you only need to know the basics. Also Blender is free to download :)

This has saved me a lotttt of time drawing the same backgrounds over and over again!

Cover

Lastly I did the cover. That one has also gone through multiple versions. I had a vague idea of what I wanted, but I wasn't happy with the execution so I redrew that one as well.

So that's the whole process so far. I do I wanna continue the comic once I got the energy to work on it again. Gonna do some test pages first to see what kind of rendering I wanna go for. Not sure if'll be in black and white, color or a combo...we'll see.

I hope this helps! And if you have any questions don't be afraid to ask them.

[romanestuffsposts]

can we please get Stucky spoiling their little. getting them new stuffies, blankies, sippys, pacis, toys, & snackies. I just want them to spoil me

Hi there love! 💜

Get ready because you’ll feel as if it’s Christmas!! ❤️

I hope you like how I write your request!

Enjoy <3

****

Warnings : just lots of love, kindness and fluff, pet names

Pairings : Daddies!Stucky ; Daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader

Summary : a treasure hunt to find the best treasure in the world

****

You groan and stretch your sleepy body as the sun shine through your windows. You open your eyes and take your time to blink the sleepiness away.

When you're ready, you stand up and stretch again before making your way toward your door. You grab the door handle but stop in your track when you see a paper scotched against your door. You rub your eyes a narrow them to have a better look at the paper.

It looks like a map. Like a map you see in your cartoons when they have to find a treasure. You grab the map and walk out of your bedroom. You look around the empty hallway "Papa ?" you cal.

After a silent answer, you make your way towatd the stairs and starts to go downstairs. Once your feet left the stairs, you look around the living room and the kitchen "Daddy ?"

It's weird, why they aren't there ? Where are they ? They always greet you in the morning, cover you with kisses, hugs and questions about your sleep.

You go back to the living room, maybe you missed them ? When walk to the mini table near the couch, you look down and see another paper on the empty table. You frown when you recognize your Daddy's hand writing

Hello my love,

If you hold this letter in your hands it means you found the map. Papa and I are somewhere in the house but we can't go out, you have to help us.

There is three hints hidding in the house and you have to find it with the map. Those hints will bring you to us and the treasure.

Thank you for helping us, babygirl. We're counting on you

Love, Daddy and Papa

Your eyes widen after reading the words. Your Daddies need you, just like in your cartoons you have to find the hints to rescue your Daddies!

You take back the map and take a look closer. You look at the first point of the map and try to understand where it is. There's water so you immediately think about the bathroom. You make your way upstairs and once you're standing in the bathroom you look back at the map for more hints.

Your shoulders drop when you see dishes beside the water. You go back downstairs and walk in the kitchen. You think for a moment. Dishes... Water.... dishwasher ?

You open the dishwasher with trouble but still succeed to open it. You look inside and see your Papa's pen in it. You frown and reach it, you take it out and turn it around, maybe there's something on it ?

But no, there's nothing more than the pen your Papa uses to complete files in his office.

You grab the map and look back at it. The other hint is marked with a doll drawing near the second point. You walk upstaires and go in your playroom. That's the only room is the house where there's dolls so it can't be anywhere else.

You walk through the room and stop once you reach your dolls. You look through them and look everywhere for a few minutes. You sigh and stop looking through your dolls when you don't find anything.

If there were something hidding in there then you would've found it before. You look around the room while thinking, it means there are dolls somewhere else in the house then... But where ?

Without really believing in it, you walk out of your playroom and into your room. You gaze your bedroom until your eyes fall on your Bucksie. It couldn't... Right ? You slept with it in your arms ..

You walk to your bed and take Bucksie in your hands and as you lift your stuffie up from the mattress, something slide out of his wrist and fall in the bed.

You reach it and frown again. It's the elastic you gave to your Daddy one day. He was complaining about his hair getting long and him who didn't had the time to go cut them so you offered him one of your favorite elastic.

He wore it every days while he worked, wether it's in the office or outside. He never takes it off of his wrist so why is it here ?

You slide the elastic on your wrist so you're sure you don't lose it and take back the map.

The third point is showing a teethbrush so you make your way to the first bathroom before going in your Daddies's if you don't find it there. You look in the cup with the teethbrushes but don't find it there so you open the mirror and look through the teeth care your Daddies have.

You look back at the cup really quick as you were about to go out but take a double look in the cup. You take it and see your Papa's glasses he used for when he works on his computer.

You look back at the map and realised it was the last hint you just found. So you decide to go in your Daddies's bedroom to put all the things you found in their bed.

Okay so let's recap ;

the pen your Daddies used while working,

Your Daddy's elastic he used when he works,

And your Papa's glasses he has on his nose while he works on the computer.

It takes you some times, multiples minutes to find out that all those things were used while they worked in their office. You take your things in your arms and run downstairs to their office.

You stop out of breath in front of the door and your eyes sparkle, a little smile showing on your lips when you see a big cross in their door. You open the door and squeal when you see your Daddies sitting in the middle of the room.

They both turn their head toward you when they heard the door and stand up when they spot you "you made it!" your Daddy laughs as he runs toward you

He lifts you in his arms and you proudly show him the hints you found with a cute smile on your face "you were so fast! that's soo good, princess" Your Papa praises as he kisses your cheeks.

"our smart little girl" your Daddy strokes your nose with his.

You giggle and hide your face from them, you rest your cheek against his shoulder but you quickly pull back when you spot a large stack of blankets in the corner of the room

You wiggle out of your Daddy's arms and run toward the corner. You jump in the mountain of blankets and squeal. Your Daddies laugh as they look at you "look around the room, baby" your Papa says with a smile

You lift your head and gaze the room, your eyes widening at each inch of room you spot.

There's another stack of snacks in another corner of the room. Near this one, there's stuffies waiting patiently for you and in the last corner there's a many sippys who just want you to wear them soon.

You gasp and run all around the room not knowing where to go first. There's so many things!

Your Papa walks toward you and take you in his arms knowing that it'll exhauted you to run like this "look baby" he whispers in your ear. He points at their desk and you bite your lips whne you spot all the new pacis resting all over their desks.

You feel tears filling your little eyes as everything just hit you. You look back at your Papa who was still holding you and see from the corner of your eyes your Daddy coming to you

‘’What’s wrong, sweetness ?’´ your Papa’s voice asks as he gently strokes your cheek with his thumb

You sniff and look at the both of them ‘’is all for me ?’’ A little tears fall on your cheek when your Daddies nod at you ‘’everything who is in this room is for you, beautiful’’ your Daddy smiles as he kisses your temple

‘’Why don’t we go out all of that upstairs and we stay in the couch for the whole day eating a lot of snacks ?’’ Your Papa asks pushing his nose with yours.

‘’Snacks ?’´ you ask with excitement and he chuckles while nodding ‘’lots and lots of snacks’’

You smile and jump in his arms. You can’t contain your happiness any more times. This is so wonderful!!

As your Papa walks out of the office, you rest your chin on his shoulder and gaze at your Daddy. When he lifts his eyes to met yours, you lift your wrist to give him the elastic back

‘’Thank you baby girl’’ he kisses your forehead