#and i can already think of half a dozen ships to add to this

[see-arcane]

Happy Friday the 13th!

Time for some updates.

Plushies

I promise I have not forgotten the little guys-in-potentia. I’ve just been going through many circles of Hell trying to find a decent manufacturer that isn’t operating on some secret ‘Sorry, We Only Work with Brands ™ and Influencers ©, Enjoy Sending Half a Dozen Queries to Our Inbox-Void, You Little Nobody~ <3’ rule. So that was fun. But, finally, I think I’ve found a prospective maker. The issue?

The smallest bulk order is a 50-count. $30 each, roughly. Just for one. 30 x 50 = at least $1,500. If I try to do Mina and Jonathan (DO NOT SEPARATE), that’s 100 plushies. $3,000.

And that’s without dealing with the logistics of storing all the dang things, figuring out shipping costs depending on where I’d be mailing them (not including the packaging), and figuring out how to fairly price them without also gutting everyone’s wallets while we’re all broke.

Fundraising options like Kickstarter, Indiegogo, and Backerkit all look like the only solid way to go here, but they come with their own caveats.

I need some kind of prototype to have on display, not just the concept. The manufacturer I have in mind does provide a physical prototype prior to going to work on bulk orders, but I’d need to talk with them about the what-ifs involved if a fundraiser fails to drop enough cash to afford the full order.

I still need to figure out what a fair funding target would be that would cover cost of manufacturing/shipping/etc and I do not know that magic number.

Tiers? Do I do tiers with this? If so, how do I portion those out dollar-wise? What goodies can I throw in that would sweeten the deal? At the moment all I have is my writing.

Argh.

Really, 4) kind of sums up the whole thing at the moment. I really, really want to make all my assorted little guys come to cuddly life, but the numbers involved are looking more complicated than pi, especially when I—(frankly, all of us)—have Zero Money to gamble away. If I’m off by one (1) digit that means the difference between ‘Yes, I can pay for manufacturing and shipping and et ceteras no problem!’ and ‘WHOOPS SURPRISE YOU’RE PAYING AN EXTRA FEE OUT OF POCKET NOW BECAUSE YOU DID NUMBER WRONG, HA HA.’ Add that to the fact that I really don’t have anything tangible to pin to hypothetical tiers just now?

I’m afraid the plush Harkers (along with Quinn Morse and his new accessory) have to go on a back shelf for the time being.

But, for a more positive note…

October Scares and Scribbles

I plan to have a Substack in place sometime within October. It will include not just Harker’s current helping of chapters, but…

A new Harker teaser

Backups of some older stuff

[REDACTED] as a little Halloween treat

A generally tidier domain to keep my scattered scrawling in order

As it stands, I don’t feel comfortable turning it into a paid subscription Substack. I won’t be doing clockwork updates and what I will have up won’t be worth a routine fee. I’ll likely have a Ko-Fi link up as a sort of tip jar, but that’ll be that.

Speaking of money…

Maybe Making Merch?

Turns out the options for making less complicated bric-a-brac than stuffed animals are…less complicated. Imagine that. I’ve also been poking around looking at possibilities for stationery, bookmarks, cups, assorted bits and bobs. You know the Dracula Cast(ula) was made for journals and coffee mugs. However, I need to know what kind of designs folks would want to see. So:

The prospects here are much less stressful as far as puzzling out details goes, so I feel a little better about chewing on this. Still need to settle on Official Designs, but I’d wave those around for folks to see first.

All that said?

Argh

Because it bears repeating.

You’ll notice I haven’t laid out exact dates or timeframes for any of this stuff. That’s because I’m still neck-deep in the job hunt, along with grappling with the possibility of having to burn more money on new courses to enter a field I hate, but looks to be one of few career paths that will actually pay me more than pocket change. Said positions not even being guaranteed to still be in the same shape once I’m out of class. Same as my last job.

In four months, I’ll have been applying for a solid year. Every day. All to positions that either send copy-paste rejections, ghost outright, turn out to be thin veils for scams, or, most fun prospect, aren’t even real, because companies keep putting up false job openings to look like they’re expanding. My time has alternated between this and writing and trying not to look at my bank account. Between that and anxiety bordering on nausea concerning the upcoming election, my Halloween vibes are pretty bruised too.

It has. Not been the best time.

But the best part of it is still going on. Because that part is you guys. The people who’ve enjoyed my nonsense. The people who’ve actually dropped some bucks my way on Ko-Fi or bought my book! The people who’ve encouraged me for ages and have turned out to be some of the coolest folks a fellow bookworm could hope for. Thank you.

I hope you’ll cross your fingers for me going forward.

Postscript

I’m also working on the rough draft for this thing. Whether I can get it up on the platform I’d like or not, it will see daylight even if I have to drag it outside myself.

Living’s not cheap, but complaining is free. >:}

[redfurrycat]

Hey! Have you made a master list of Ice being Jake’s dad? (I absolutely love, appreciate and frequently use your master lists)

Just as I’m writing the Ron is Jake’s dad au I’ve been trying to read all the Ice is Jake’s dad and I’m sure I’m missing some??

Hey Mac! 😊

This is slightly different than how I usually do rec lists. In this case, I searched through the Top Gun (Movies) fics tagged as Tom "Iceman" Kazansky & Jake "Hangman" Seresin and then proceeded with the collecting of all fics mentioning any paternal-filial bond between the two, regardless of the pairings.

Meaning I don't think I know most of them, but I hope you can find stuff to read nonetheless.

(I'll probably -absolutely- do a Hangster & Icepops-Hangson recs list though, at some point in the future! 😊)

I invite anyone to add fics fitting the request if you have more! 💖

Tumblr Posts

The Hangman's Guide to Winning Over Your Disapproving Admiral-In-Law – Part 1 – 2 – 3 (@amostexcellentblog)

Also see these:

nonbinary-jakeseresin post

weewoobrainrot post

whohasthecards post

AO3 Fics

(All have Jake as Ice's biological or adopted son, unless mentioned otherwise.)

See You Again by sleeping_maple {T}

Just when Hangman thinks that the day can't get any worse, he finds out that his father died. His father, Admiral Tom "Iceman" Kazansky. And he doesn't take it well. Luckily, Sarah Kazansky and Maverick are there to help.

Mini Man by SpringPetunia {T}

Hangman is Iceman's son. He never tells anyone anymore because of how they always react. But his dad is coming for a visit

Golden Boy by Earthangel_44 {E}

“Say it.” Jake says smiling. His face is so close to Bradley’s that Bradley has to duck his chin to look at him. “You’re a bird, Jake.” Bradley replies and Jake beams. “I already have the wings.” Jake says happily as he presses short quick kisses to Bradley’s lips. Bradley smiles and Jake kisses that too. “Now say you’re a bird.” Bradley laughs and he smiles until his eyes crinkle. “Well if you’re a bird, I’m a bird.” A Notebook AU because Glen Powell ships Hangster

Touch Starved by LeonDesdichard {M}

(Ice acting like a dad)

Jake shows up at Ice and Mav's house and he's completely out of it because he's sick and Maverick and Bradley are out of the house so it ends up being Ice who is the one that is taking care of Jake. Jake is completely out of it because he's feverish and he's really touch starved which has Ice angry for a ton of different reasons.

Military Amalgamate by rem_png {G}

(Icemav’s son)

Back in the 80s, the government wanted to make a new generation of super pilots. So, they turned to science and mixed the DNA of their best fighter pilots. None of the pilots knew about this project. Fast forward to 2020 and the truth comes out, rattling many families.

Take me home by Target_rich_environment {G}

Jake takes Bob home after the bird strike

IcePops and HangSon Series by UFOxMulder {T}{E}

Hangman snippets Series by Fantasy2739 {T}

Even worse idea! by LemonsAndSugarMakeLemonade {T}

(Ice acting like a dad)

“Bradley, Ice just texted me to come to “hang out”, is this a threat?” “Jake you’ve known him for almost five years now, it is definitely just Ice wanting you to do some work around the house.” “Okay but-” “Baby, this exact conversation happened last week, you know Ice is so different at home than he is at work.” “But is he?” “Jake, please,” “Okay yeah, I’ll go over.”

Midnight Hour Mixtape by Bubblegumchaos {T}

Hangman runs; he always been much too good at that sort of thing. Jake would give anything to find his father except his clues are half a dozen letters in a shoebox and his late mother's drunken rambles of a man who wasn't her husband.

I don't know how to change a tyre by blazingstar29 {G}

(Son-Fatherly Feels)

Jake gives his first father's day at 30.

Top Gun: Kazansky Twins by Tazlady691 {T}

A cannon divergence AU: The story of a pair of twins and their life up to 2023

The Mitchell-Kazanskys Series by WhisperingNights {T}{M}

Flowers for my grave by TheReadingWriter {T}

When a study on the genetics of Hanahaki disease brings forth the revelation that Jake "Hangman" Seresin is in fact Tom "Iceman" Kazansky's son, their lives take a dramatic turn, as they for the first time in their lives have someone to other than the ones who cursed them to live for. Their times are both running out, but they will be damned if they will let the other die without at least trying to save them. When the mission of a lifetime arrives, one thing is certain: It will either mean happiness for the rest of their lives, or certain death before the year has passed. How far will they go to protect the secret they know will kill them?

A Choice by Ren_Anders {_}

(Son-Fatherly Feels)

After everything, when everything is suppose to be smooth sailing, Jake gets a call. His dad has just died. But it doesn’t matter, right? He was an asshole and he refuses to give him his grief. OR Ice and Jake have a heart to heart about shitty dads and how to overcome their deaths

Family Ties by CryoCait {_}

Jake knows what policies there are in place to avoid familial conflict of interest, he's lived it for years. He knows how sacred those policies are to keeping his family sane. So logically it follows that he understands how dangerous this mission must be for the Navy to look aside and allow the entire Mitchell-Kazansky family to be a part of it. Now he just needed to make sure they all made it home in one piece. Or Jake is a Kazansky just as much as Bradley is a Mitchell, and Mav never pulled Bradley's papers. Now, the close-knit but under the radar family all must work together for the first time during the Uranium Plant mission and keep their relationships to each other under wraps while trying to make sure everyone survives this suicide mission.

Bikes and Bruises by WhisperingNights {M}

(Icemav’s son)

"You aren’t taking one of my bikes to the HR Drag Strip, Jacob, end of story,” Mav responded, crossing his arms over his chest. “I won’t be racing, it's just a show,” Jake protested. Mav snorted “Yeah, right.” “I won’t! The show starts at 9-” “How many times are you going to make me say no, son?” Mav asked.

Heartbeats & Bird Nests Series by SamHeartfilia {T}{E}

Two Men and a Baby by multifangirl11 {_}

(Mav’s son & Icemav)

Jake is Pete's son, Tom is a good friend who hopes to become more.

Keeping Dreams Alive, 1999 Hero's (I Ain't Worried Right Now) by Luxu1230 {_}

(Icemav’s son)

Jake "Hangman" Seresin is the biological son of Pete "Maverick" Mitchell and Tom "Iceman" Kazasky but was kidnapped not that long after being born all he has of them is a small f-14 Tomcat silver necklace which he keeps hidden. He knows his "parents" are his real "Parents" though they don't exactly know that but when he overhears a certain conversation between three people he starts suspecting of who his true parents maybe and from the sounds of it they definitely didn't abandon him.

Been searching for a(n Ice)man by crowstakeflight {G}

Jake did not really look like either of his parents. Sure, he could see some of his mom in his features when he looked in the mirror, but the majority of them are from someone he’s never seen before. It didn’t take much to bring the question up to his parents and they answered honestly. Or, Jake's biological father is Iceman and this is what happens after he finds out.

Living after midnight, loving 'til the morning, then I'm gone. by WaffleToaster {E}

Nobody thought their actions back in the winter of '85 and beyond would end up having these consequences. A story woven from past mistakes, indecisions and loss that eventually helped shape his world and upbringing. But despite all the hardships one thing was for certain, Jake Seresin was destined to fly and he knew the Navy was where he belonged. A slightly altered kind of retelling that includes Jake 'Hangman' Seresin being Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky’s lost son, a story about revelations, love, loss, friendship and most importantly family. Where two rivals find out they may not be so different from one another and their journey to understanding, unity, serenity and eventually love. First by hating, then by loving and finally understanding and helping one another find a place they both deserve. Just not in the same order.

A Kazansky Redemption by WhisperingNights {E}

This is a Kazansky love story. Can one win back the love of their life? Can the other find love in a storm of hate? **** “Sarah, that’s been over for 26 years, besides your my wife, remember? It wouldn’t be good to go tell a man I love him now would it?” Ice grinning playfully at her. She gave a small laugh that quickly turned into a cough, causing him to lean toward her in concern. “I’m alright, I’m alright, sit down,” she rasped, waving him off, then she looked at him “I love you Tom, but we both know our love was foraged in partnership nothing else. We did what was necessary for the safety of ourselves and your career. But it’s 2017, it's easier now. Sexuality rights are better, people are more open. I’ll never get to have a wife, but you Tom, you deserve to have a husband.” ***** Jake’s eyes landed on a figure in an awful Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses. His irritation instantly grew, the universe really must hate him.

Suburban Heaven by slyther_ing {T}

“I’m in love with a man who wears jorts,” Jake deadpans, “I can’t sink any lower.” “You saw your dad’s frosted tips, right?” Mav snorts. I heard that pings on both their phones, and then You loved my hair, honey. “Please don’t flirt in the group chat,” Jake groans and he escapes to make dinner. He’ll do better tomorrow.

[alexanderlightweight]

Could you do a continuation of the one where Cat and Ragnor summoned Alec to comfort Magnus after Camille?

here we go anon! thank you for the lovely prompt i hope you enjoy

-

Magnus is careful as he takes a little hair, a little blood and a little grace from the nephilim in the array and then he hesitates. He wants, more than anything, but what he’s about to do is a horrendous violation of someone who has given him so much hope. There is a little murmur of confusion as the man shifts eyes flickering open again.

“What’s wrong babe?” He’s asked and Magnus chokes on a cry because this man is coddling him, calling him endearments that must make sense from wherever he’s from and he’s barely conscious and clearly in a magical array, but his only concern is Magnus.

“I need something from you—” Magnus starts to say, something hopeless in his voice because he’s going to have to steal it, when his angel says no.

“Anything.” Magnus is promised instead. He’s being watched by fever-bright hazel eyes and hands reach out to cup his face, “everything.” Magnus is pulled into a clumsy, half-conscious kiss and he’s shocked by the taste of cold, foreign energy on his tongue and his nephilim wriggling eagerly against him, opening up his soul to bear everything Magnus needs and more.

Magnus harvests a tiny piece of his soul, just enough to make sure he can call the correct soul to him from across time and space, and then he lets the kiss end. There are tears on his face when his nephilim — no, not his not this one but one would be his — falls back to the floor in a gentle slump guided by Magnus’ magic.

“Oh laddie, it’s just as I hoped.”

Ragnor’s voice brings Magnus back to reality and he lets himself be pulled out of the array and he’s clutching the sliver of soul, unwilling to let it go.

“We need to store it, quickly.” Cat interrupts Magnus’ musing, her eyes sharp as she focuses on the small shard of silver-blue light. “We can’t risk it being damaged or lost.”

Magnus growls at the thought and weaves his magic around it, encasing it within an orb of hellfire that Cat then weaves stasis and health charms on and Ragnor adds his own lengthy list of preservation charms.

“Ragnor, can you get me a list of all nephilim bases most likely to suffer a tectonic shift in the leylines and are more prone to demonic rifts?”

“I’ll narrow it down to half a dozen of the best options.” Ragnor promises Cat, and Magnus is so grateful they’re there, that they’re taking care of him like this.

“Magnus, you’ll need to find a werewolf pack, a vampire clan or a frolick of fae. Slaughter them, harvest their hearts or their soul-gems and we’ll use those to power the array. We’ll need all of your power concentrating on finding and pulling the right one for you.”

“You’re going to help me, right?” Magnus asks, eyes sharp as he memorizes the lines of the face that has given him so much hope.

“We’re going to.” Cat says with a sharp smile that Magnus remembers fondly from their pirating days. “We’re going to get you your boy, Magnus. We’re going to get one who is going to love and devote himself to you. Whose going to die before he’d leave you, who will be immortal and stay by your side for eternity.”

“What?”

“There are endless possibilities, Magnus.” Ragnor reminds him fondly, “why limit yourself when you haven’t even let time and space limit you. There is no reason to think some version of your boy isn’t already immortal. It will save us the issue of covering up three horrifically illegal and unethical rituals in the same decade, rather than just the two.”

Magnus snorts, so hard he thinks he might cry from the burn in his eyes, but a hand pats him on the back and Cat winks at him, miming a bottle of rum and Magnus summons one, choking on a mouthful of four century old swill that still tastes like the rot of their ship.

They harvest everything they need and are just about to let the array restart, sending Magnus’ hope elsewhere when dark flames, the bitter and shifting red of Edom’s sands come to life.

They devour the array and Magnus and Ragnor and Cat step back and Magnus almost thinks about trying to save him but then they watch, in awe as the nephilim relaxes into the fire.

Alexander, my Alexander.

The fire whispers, the murmurs growing louder as a dark hum fills the room.

Ragnor grabs Magnus and shoves him behind them, putting more room between the man Magnus’ covets and whatever has come to claim him.

“Magn’s—” the man, Alexander, murmurs and he smiles, as if delighted and protected.

My darling, Alexander. I have you now.

The flames cover him and flare in a flash and when they all open their eyes, it’s to find the array never existed and every single piece of magic related to the array has been destroyed.

“The soul piece.” Magnus hisses, exhausted and feeling about to crack apart. “Did it survive?”

Ragnor looks weak and drawn and he’s pale, his skin going a mint green as he summons the orb and Magnus holds his breath, Cat’s grip tight on his arms as Ragnor sighs in relief.

“It’s intact, unharmed though a few of the protections cracked. If they,” — and Ragnor pauses because they all know who was responsible for those flames, “weren’t in such a hurry, I’m not sure it would have been usable.”

“Then,” Magnus says, and he feels stronger than he has in centuries, even though he feels shaken by the power another version of himself wielded so carelessly. “Clearly, my vacation is over. It seems I’ve let myself grow lax and that I’ll soon have something to protect just as fiercely. I’ll get ready to go to Edom.”

Cat and Ragnor both wince, but they don’t disagree. They can’t, after seeing the flames and knowing only one place where Magnus can gain such control. Magnus is going to give himself six years. Six years is long enough even as an immortal that Magnus’ soul and heart argue fiercely with waiting, but he wants to know that when he plucks his boy from across the worlds, that no one can take him back from Magnus.

Sometimes, sacrifices must be made.

[gofancyninjaworld]

Call this the anti-Scooby gang plot

Wait, what?

So, the latest manga chapter of One-Punch Man (update 231, online: chapter 184, fan-translation: chapter 186) may be similar to chapter 108 of the webcomic, but it's Not The Same. And one of those differences is very important:

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoaaaaa. Scheduled? SCHEDULED? Leaks scheduled by who? Why?

Yes, I know it's the Neo-Hero scouts. I'm shocked that they're that confident that Genos will choose to jump ship rather than go to the HA and tell them that there's an organized smear campaign planned against them. Yes, they're right that Genos has no loyalty to the HA. Still, that takes some balls: that could go so badly wrong.

So, these scouts must have approached, what, at least a dozen of the most powerful heroes on the planet and told them about plans to undermine the Hero Association.

We know that the S-Class heroes in the manga are an astute bunch and that they're not too proud to talk to each other and take joint action. If they wanted to foil the Neo Heroes, they could. Seriously, imagine Genos thought the HA needed protecting. Imagine that Child Emperor thought the same. Imagine that Fubuki saw the curiously insecure back end of the HA's servers and thought 'damn, I need to warn them and see to it that something is done' rather than think how she might extract advantage from it.

Why aren't they? Because no one loves the Hero Association.

How do you misuse me? Let me count the ways

And why would they? The Hero Association was founded specifically so that the individuals who feel themselves moved to do good in the world wouldn't have to choose between doing good deeds and making rent, but in a hundred little (and not so little) ways, they've shown heroes that they're not at the centre of the organisation.

Shit pay

The shit pay is a frequent plot point. I've spoken already about Tatsumaki apparently unable to afford a good home. When the number two hero lives in a shitty old house, think how bad it has to be for everyone else. If they were coining it in, Metal Bat would have a nanny for Zenko so he could afford to work full-time as a hero rather than only during school hours. He's one of their longest-serving and most loyal heroes.

Terrible benefits

Instead of helping, the HA reads it as his being uncommitted and punishes him with low ranking (and corresponding worse pay). Just like IRL organizations treat working mothers. Hell, the HA has been positively vindictive in how slow they've been to raise Metal Bat's rank. Despite spotting his talent early, when the other low-ranking heroes were swept up into the newly-created Class S six months after founding the HA, do you know when they put him in Class S? A year ago.

You put it together and go 'wait, so for a year and a half, Metal Bat's had to watch heroes far weaker and less capable than he is be promoted over his head while he barely makes ends meet?' You start to understand why hero relationships are so often fraught.

It's a burning indictment of the Hero Association that Metal Bat jumped ship on being offered child care. If the Hero Association's standards of care were any lower, they'd be subterranean. They didn't deserve his loyalty.

The Hero Association pays its heroes the bare minimum they can get away with, despite collecting billions on their behalves. It's interesting to note that almost every hero on their roster is a young, single man. I remarked on this demographic seven years ago on Reddit. I know, what was I thinking? That the membership there had eyes and brains -- so foolish. As the story has progressed, I'm vindicated on this.

Yes, a lot of hero work is hard and physical, but that's not the whole story. Anyone with a family to support or caring responsibilities will find themselves pushed out -- god forbid your parents grow old. Add to it that they don't encourage teamwork or cooperation and the isolation of it will repulse a lot of women. Good, strong, capable ones. And as the story shows, there are a lot of them out there:

in a big population, even a small proportion of people is a sizeable demographic -- the HA has put off a lot of people who could have helped

Not to mention that as soon as you start thinking of marrying, you'll leave, even if you're the sort of loser dude who hates the idea of a man doing 'women's work'. Because you know that the HA is not going to be there for you or your family if you get hurt, and while you're okay taking risks for your own sake, subjecting your family to the same... no thank you. Sekingar's then-fiance making him choose between being a hero and marrying her really comes to mind.

Leaving aside poor pay and benefits, let's talk more broadly about the industrial relations disaster that exists between HA management and the heroes.

Disrespectful names

Shitty disrespectful hero names that leave their recipients feeling bullied, and no good way to change that name.

Inadequate, inconsistent support

The total lack of an effective mentoring program, not to mention the unreasonable and even unethical demands on them:

Not to mention an excessively harsh disciplinary regime

A lack of anyone actually looking out for heroes

We watch Busho, a junior official, try to get better conditions for the heroes on the ground and see his appeal go nowhere.

Disastrous leadership

The fact that most of the executives appear to be just... wet. People who have position but nothing behind it to inspire respect:

The fact that heroes are hurting with the desire to see actual competent leadership:

Sleazy practices that offend heroes:

It all adds up to not what heroes signed up for

Anyway, the important thing is that heroes, ALL HEROES, are working to make the world a better place. They aren't there to be loyal employees. If someplace else will let them work as heroes with less nonsense, they'll move.

No love lost

And that's why the heroes who could stop this Neo Hero plot right here, right now, aren't lifting a finger. It's like watching the Scooby Gang get told who's behind the creepy funfair at the outset, shrug, and go, 'eh, let him get away with it.'

Probably the only hero who actually cares about the Hero Association is Metal Knight, as he literally built a lot of it. But he's fucking furious at the top brass right now, for good reason. He probably thinks they deserve to suffer a little.

The heroes have no idea what kind of evil they're letting into the world. But then again, none of them are Madame Shiwababwa.

[sunwarmed-ash]

🔥Sinful Sunday🔥

The Eden Club

Chapter 6: You'll look for me in someone forever

Fandom: Detroit Become Human

Ships: HankCon(main), Hankvin(previous), Convin(secondary), HankConGav(eventual)

Rating: Explicit (adult sexual content)

Tags: Eden Club/Sex Worker!Connor Dead dove do not eat, undercover!Connor, post-revolution: hostile public opinion, Evil Kamski, Club owner Kamski, All the tragic Hankvin backstory you could ever want, eventual polycule, smut, followed by angst, spanking, edging, fingering, sensation play, Connor is a flirty horny little shit, emotional sex, unresolved feelings, complicated love triangle turned polycule

Summary:

“I don’t care how eager you are, you're eating before we do anything,” Connor shouted from the kitchen before he could say a word and Hank’s mouth dropped in suprise. Even if they had been sexting ALL DAY, he still wasn't used to hearing pointed flirtation out of his android. Well, not his like his property but you know… 

“Oh yeah? What makes you think you're in charge after the sneaky shit you pulled today,” Hank shot back, using his ‘Lieutenant voice’ as Connor has called it over a dozen times now. 

Hank took his time entering the house, extending out this little game. He hung up his coat and gave himself a once over in the front hallway mirror. He looked tired as hell. The bags under his eyes were darkening as the day went on, but he showered yesterday so his hair doesn't look greasy and his beard is only a little overgrown right now. Convinced he looked ‘good enough’, he continued through the entry way, skidding to a hard stop before even a toe could cross the threshold of the kitchen. 

Yup, its official, I’m gonna have a fucking heart attack. 

Because Connor is standing with his back to him in front of the stove, in Hank’s Knights of the Black Death Band Tee from 2027, and nothing else. That was confirmed a second later when Connor reached up to add time on the microwave and Hank could easily make out the matching half moons of the androids bare ass. 

Hank’s hand reached out and slapped the doorway trim to steady himself. 

“Jesus fucking Christ Connor...” he scolded.

Connor turned around then, a huge shit-eating grin on his face as he held out his spatula and blinked up at Hank innocently. He looked down at the borrowed, oversized shirt on his tall lean frame.

“I hope you don’t mind Hank, my clothes are in the washer. I can take it off, if it bothers you.”

Nope. Connor better fucking not. Because if he does that, Hank’s heart will stop. He’s just barely holding it together now. 

“It’s not you wearing it that bothers me,” Hank groans, unable to tear his eyes from the bottom hem of the time-worn shirt, just waiting for the moment Connor moved enough to show him more of that beautiful cock he already got an eyeful of today.  

Connor’s previously flirtaious face was suddenly replaced with worry. 

“I didn’t mean to genuinely upset you Hank, I’m-”

But before Connor could misunderstand Hank further, he was stopping Connor’s apology. 

“You’re not wearing anything under that shirt.” 

It wasn't a question. 

The side of Connor’s face began to raise again in amusement, understanding Hank now.  

“Nope.”

[ljf613]

OwlCrate Unboxed (01/24)

I just got my first @owlcrate box, and honestly, I wasn't really sure what to expect, or if this was really worth it-- I rarely spend more than $10 on a book, so the full charge of just one of these boxes (including shipping) definitely had me thinking twice. And what if, after all that, I didn't even like the book?

But one of the reasons I was willing to take a risk on this one was because the theme was clearly tailor-made for me specifically.

"Enchated to Meet You"? Regency-esque romance with magic and royalty? That soft, vintage aesthetic that I adore? Yes, please.

And I was not disappointed. While I still haven't read the book, so I can't say if I'll like it or not, what I can tell you is that before I even got particularly deep into the box, I already knew that the price I'd paid was more than worth it even without the book.

(To avoid spoilers, product images and reviews beneath the cut.)

First up, this canvas tote bag:

The design is based on a book called Once Upon a Broken Heart by Stephanie Garber. (It's on my to-read list, I'm just waiting for my hold to come in!) It's got a sweet, elfish woodland vibe going on-- I half-expect to see a tiny winged fairy peeking out from behind one of those toadstools. This bag is also has great functionality. I am always in need of a sturdy cloth bag to carry my books, and I am positive this is one I'll be getting a lot of use out of. The material is thick and durable, and it's wide and deep enough to easily hold at least half a dozen books without any stress. An all-around cute and useful item!

Next up, a reusable cleaning cloth:

The design is based on a book called Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor. (I'd never heard of this book before, but it looks intriguing, so I suppose I'll add it to the list.) It's kind of generic, but I do like the colors. And it does look like the kind of thing that would be perfect for dusting my desk and bookshelves. It's probably my least favorite item in the box, but I don't hate it.

Moving on to the metal bookmark:

The design is inspired by Emily Wilde's Encylopaedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett. (I just read it a few weeks ago, and the sequel is currently sitting on top of my dresser waithing for me to read it.) It's supposed to be Shadow, the dog belonging to the stories main character. However, my first thought upon seeing a large black dog in a forest, standing on a pile of skulls, was of Ruth from The Ancient Magus' Bride-- who just-so-happens to be one of my favorite characters ever. I hope no one minds if I continue to see it that way. (No hate to Shadow-- he's a good boy!) It's a very whimsical design and I like it a lot!

And now the coloring kit:

I definitely wasn't expecting this from a subscription book box, but I am absolutely not complaining. (I've been thinking I wanted to sit down with some colored pencils and coloring pages one of these days.) The quote on the left is from Pride & Prejudice (my beloved), the top-most is from Bridgerton (read the books and liked them well enough but have zero interest in watching the show), and the one on the right is from Outlander (I think that's a show based on some books, maybe I'll look into it one of these days). The quotes are lovely, I like the simple yet elegant floral designs, and I love the soft pastel color palette (and will absolutely be holding onto those pencils).

The last item (aside from the book) is the enamel pin:

The characters shown here are Sophie and Howl (+ Calcifer!) from Howl's Moving Castle (the book, not the movie, though I love them both!). I love enamel pins and happen to have a decent-sized collection, but I don't think I've ever seen a sliding design like this. This design is absolutely enchanting, and I'm looking forward to seeing more from this pin collection in future boxes. I included the envelope it came in because I think it's really cute, and it gives me some serious Violet Evergarden vibes. (The design on the backer card is also pretty! It's really evident that a lot of thought and care was put into every aspect of every item in this box.)

And, of course, there's the book:

This is A Fragile Enchantment by Allison Saft. I'm not going to take pictures of every single customization in this one, but suffice it to say that it looks really pretty and I'm hoping the story inside lives up to everything else in here.

All in all, I'm really happy with this box, and glad that I got it.

[gilbertandanne]

Since we are on a Bangel kick, what are the angstiest arcs ever for your OTPs?

This might be my favorite ask on the planet, and I’m sorry in advance for the length on this, but I love angst and I love my OTPs!

Anne/Gilbert (Sullivan adaptation):

“Please say yes” - The Sequel (or Anne of Avonlea) RIP my heart.  That entire scene is so heartbreaking, but that pleading whisper never fails to send me into an angsty spiral.  I’ve used that scene as inspo in a few fics.

Anne/Gilbert (Anne with an E):

“Just one thing” - that scene...I know you asked about arcs, but that scene pretty much sums up their entire relationship until that point: an unfortunate series of misunderstandings.

Buffy/Angel (Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel):

“I felt your heart beat” - Yep....that’s it.  This scene from “I Will Remember You” DESTROYS me and is guaranteed to make me sob like a baby EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.  This entire episode is, in my opinion, the most angsty because oh....oh what could have been.  The sacrifice Angel made in this episode summarizes why Bangel will always be a top-tier OTP for me.

Honorable Mention:  The Prom and their break-up.  Two specific moments: 

B: “Don't what? Don't love you? I'm sorry. You know what? I didn't know that I got a choice in that. I'm never gonna change. I can't change. I want my life to be with you.”  A: “I don’t.” 

At prom: B: “Every now and then people surprise you.” Giles: “Every now and then.” And she turns around and Angel’s there and I’m sobbing, you’re sobbing, we’re all sobbing.

Felicity/Gus (Road to Avonlea):

I have two favorite angsty arcs with these two:  

Gus’s first proposal (above) in “Felicity’s Perfect Beau”.

Felicity’s character development after season six.  I don’t want to spoil the show in case you ever want to watch it, but her entire character arc through the series is fantastic and it’s just...so good.

Riley/Lucas (Girl Meets World):

Bruhhh.....Girl Meets Texas....going through Girl Meets the New Year.  Just...give me ALL the angst, all the looks, all the heartbreak.  I’m having a moment just looking at this gif and I haven’t watched the show in AGES (I’m overdue for a rewatch).  They’re still a legit OTP for me and, as with the other couples on this list, it’s the angst that cements it (though I shipped them well before these episodes aired).

Pam/Jim (The Office):

Casino Night, Casino Night, Casino Night.  It’s the culmination of watching Jim pine for Pam for two seasons.  It’s been such a frustrating dance up until this point, and the release in this episode is nothing short of beautiful.  It cracks open the low-key angst we’ve been seeing for so long and paves way for the mutual, heartbreaking (at times) angst of season three.  This episode of The Office is my 2nd favorite of the series and is when Jam sling-shotted their way onto my all-time favorite OTP list.

Ok, so the above are the only ships I have that I truly consider to be a bonafide, ride-or-die OTPs, but since this ask is sending me into a tailspin, here are three more of my favorite ships’ best angsty moments/arcs:

Sydney/Vaughn (��Alias”) - Season Three.  Really, the entire season, but episode 12 (”Crossings”) when Vaughn confesses his feelings right before they’re taken to the firing squad.

Cassie/Cole (”12 Monkeys”) - The finale.  These two get put through the wringer all through the series, but it’s when they face their inevitable parting in the finale that everything comes to a head.

Liz/Max (”Roswell New Mexico”) - I mean...he died and her grief and determination to bring him back was *chef’s kiss*....and I just...ugh.  All of the angst between these two has been solid IMHO, but if I had to pinpoint one moment/one storyline, I would have to say her grief in early season two, more specifically when she cries in the shower.  That moment is so incredibly gut wrenching.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Slumbering Hearts (Alcina Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language/brief nudity Warnings: None Summary: In a wicked twist of fate, you find out your soulmate is none other than your employer, Lady Dimitrescu. To your misery, she (at first) seems equally displeased, her heart already belonging to another. But in time, the two of you find yourselves wondering... could the universe be right, after all? Soulmate AU in which every person has a unique "soul mark", which they share with their soulmate. Notes: Reader is gender neutral, but at some points will be described as leaning towards being feminine (due to personal interpretation of Alcina's character). Additionally, Lady D will eventually be referred to by her first name, so don't worry if you feel weird about her being called by her full title all the time, it's just for this chap, when the reader isn't familiar with her. Lastly, this contains a bit of one sided Alcina/Miranda, which serves as a plot point, but is (clearly) not the primary ship.

1: In The Shadow Of Giants

Three months, two weeks, and one day. That’s how long you’ve been at this accursed castle, serving cruel mistresses, having been plucked from your peaceful life in the village. Anger stains your every thought, slowly festering inside your chest. There is no cure, at least not without a fatal price, but there are mild remedies. ‘Tis not long before the other servants learn to give you the more physically demanding chores. Nothing numbs your mind quite the same way that chopping firewood does, though you often settle for hard scrubbing age-old tile. Every day ends with your muscles crying from the effort of it all. Every day… except today. Another servant, from the night shift, has been wounded severely, and her job was deemed too important to be foregone.

And, as such, she has been replaced. By you. For once, you turn in early, long before your clothes can become stained with sweat. Yet you aren’t happy, not when you know that this change will ruin your sleep for weeks to come. Even worse, it’ll be impossible to avoid your ‘employers’, whereas working the day shift meant almost never seeing them. So far, you have only seen them on four or five occasions. Hell, you’ve only met two of them, being Cassandra and Bela. Based on what others told you, the other two weren’t much (if at all) better. As you try your best to get some rest, only a single ‘positive’ thought runs through your head: Well, worst comes to worst, I’ll get killed, then I won’t have to worry about anything anymore.

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

“Remember: No talking unless you’re asked a question. The Mistress has had a rough morning, and this is her best chance at relaxing,” Juniper explains, for what seems like the eighth time since the two of you met. There’s a nervous energy around her, which does little to ease your own anxieties. If you heard correctly, she’s only been at the castle for a couple weeks, having previously worked for Mother Miranda. You’re not sure what would have caused the transfer, considering most who were ‘fired’ ended up dead. Something told you that it had to do with antsy nature. “Oh, and don’t leave unless dismissed, even once your part is done. We all need to be ready, in case Mistress- I mean, Lady Dimitrescu needs something. Sorry, I’m still getting used to how things work here.”

“As long as you don’t slip up in front of her and get us both killed, I don’t really care,” you replied, giving Juniper a level stare. Clearly unsure how to respond, she pauses for a moment, mouth opening then closing without a sound. Once she’s seemingly composed herself, you give a short nod and push open the door to the bathroom. Two other servants are already inside, and they flinch at your arrival, briefly mistaking you for their boss. “I can hardly believe they made me change shifts for this,” you add, under your breath, rolling your eyes. What was so important about making sure a few candles stayed lit? During bathtime? Maybe it was something you had to be a giant, vampiric noblewoman to understand. Regardless of your annoyance, you quickly get to work, striking the first of a couple matches. It’s a rather dull task. To think you would have preferred heavy labor to this.

Before long, the last flame springs to life, and Juniper dims the lights, allowing the candles to become the focus. At least one is scented, though you cannot place the specific kind. Less than a minute after the last one is lit, the door once again swings open, revealing your most elusive employer. She’s… more than you anticipated. In every conceivable way, truthfully. Taller, more graceful (even as she has to duck through the entrance), and, as much as you hate to think so, far, far more beautiful. If not for the warm lighting of the room, you would have worried about someone seeing your blush. Certainly I am not the first to react this way, you think, as you bow alongside the others.

“Yes, yes, get on with it,” Lady Dimitrescu says, with a sharp frown. Then she moves closer to the tub, which you imagine could fit half a dozen ‘normal’ people, and holds out her arms to her side. For a moment you’re confused, but you instinctively mimic the motions of the other maidens. Together the four of you reach for her robe, gently taking hold of it while she steps into the bath, before hanging it onto a nearby hook. A second later your entire world is turned upside down. You’re freezing in place, eyes wide, as the bare back of Lady Dimitrescu reveals itself to you. Yet this is not an instance of poorly veiled lust. No, it is equal parts horror and repulsion, for you find yourself staring at a distinctive soul marking.

One that matches your own.

Beside you, Juniper watches you with concern, silently urging you to stay silent. Neither of the other two servants seem to react, other than by taking a small step backwards. Unable to speak, let alone form coherent thoughts, all you can do is point a trembling finger towards the soul mark. It’s right in between Lady Dimitrescu’s shoulder blades. Once upon a time, you had marveled at the design, smiling every time you saw it in the mirror. Now, it might as well be the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen. Based on her expression, Juniper seems to agree, although for different reasons. As your hand drops back to your side, you try to compose yourself enough to focus on the task before you. Instead, someone breaks the quiet, boldly, daring to think that they would be rewarded for it.

“My Lady,” a servant says, stepping forward, shooting you a waywards glance. Instantly she has your employer’s attention, though that comes with the metallic sssssslk of her claws extending. There’s an unspoken threat that demands respect. None comes, however, just the frenzied words of a panicked maiden. “I know who your soulmate is, my Lady. I thought that perhaps you’d-”

“A name. Give me… a name,” Lady Dimitrescu interjects, claws still out and impatiently tapping on the tile floor. Tense, you start to step forward, wanting desperately to silence the treacherous maiden. But her tongue is faster than your fist, and soon enough your name is echoing through the room. “Oh? The one right behind me, hmm? Dreadfully convenient, really. Step forward, dear, and let me see the proof. Assuming it exists.” All eyes other than hers are on you, now. With a deep breath, you begrudgingly step in front of Lady Dimitrescu, trying not to even briefly glance at her chest (or worse, lower). One of her hands shifts, a long claw tilting your chin up. “Well?”

“Forgive the placement,” you mutter, awkwardly grabbing your shirt collar, tugging it down to reveal your soul mark, planted neatly on the center of your chest. If Lady Dimitrescu’s gaze wanders, it does so too quickly to be noticed, though she does make a low humming noise at the sight. Feeling much like a piece of meat on display at the butcher’s, you scowl deeply. Soon enough, but not as soon as you’d like, the claw under your chin retracts, and you once more cover up your soul mark. You can’t bring yourself to look your soulmate in the eyes.

“Hmm. Not what I expected. Not at all,” she muses, more to herself than to you, softly. Behind her, Juniper is sending you a sympathetic expression. All you can do, as Lady Dimitrescu judges you, is glare at the origin of this revelation. What did she think to gain by speaking up? Hadn’t she heard the same rumors that you had? Didn’t she know that your employer already loved another, even if that affection was unrequited? There was, simply put, no chance that you were the preferable option. Not when there was no race against neither time nor death. At best, you could be a distraction. Something to keep her mind off of the person she’d rather be with. “Go clean up, get some sustenance if you must, then go to my quarters. We will discuss this further there- after I am done here.”

With that said, she waves you off, letting you relax for the first time in several minutes. After giving a short bow, you immediately move to leave. On your way, you intentionally bump shoulders with the maiden who spoke up, sending her a glare, then give Juniper a nod of acknowledgement. Nervous wreck or not, she was the only person you ‘knew’ on the night shift. Not that such a thing would even matter soon. To think that we’ve been soulmates this whole time, you think, living in the same castle for months, never seeing each other. I wish things could have stayed that way. At least you’d have some time to process your developing situation. Though you doubted you’d have enough time.

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

In an unusual change of pace, Alcina dismisses the rest of her servants, long before her bath is done. They exchange glances before scattering to the winds. A heavy sigh leaves her lips, and she sinks lower into the tub. Of course I have a soulmate, she thinks, bitterly. I knew this. Knew that it wasn’t her, and yet still, I find myself surprised. Disappointed, even. How had an already rough evening gotten even worse? More than that, what was she supposed to do about it? There was a part of her that wanted to kill her soulmate. She figured that, with them out of the way, the universe might finally understand who she was meant to be with. After all, it wasn’t uncommon for ‘widows’ to be given a new match, and those were generally other ‘widows’. Considering that Alcina knew for a fact that Mother Miranda’s soulmate had long since died, she did not think that her hopes were beyond possibility.

But there was another part of her, quieter, that dared to be more realistic. If the universe said that this human, this tiny thing, was her soulmate… would it not make sense to at least try? What harm could it do, when her current love had been unrequited for so long? Was this not the end to several decades of loneliness? Damn it, she thinks, gripping the edge of the bathtub until her knuckles turned white. There was no denying it, now that a single drop of rational thought had corrupted her mind. Fuck it all, I hardly have a choice. Or anything to lose, for that matter. With her decision made, she rises to her feet, emotionally ready to face the unknown.

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

“Ah, so you do follow directions, after all. I half expected to learn that you had attempted to flee, or perhaps had a gruesome run in with one of my daughters,” Lady Dimitrescu chimes, as she ducks into her room. Inside, standing at attention, you await. All of your earlier nervousness returns, though this time it is tinged with your natural rage. Of all the monsters in the world, this was the one you were expected to love. It mattered not how tall she was, or how sharp her nails could be, or how fierce her loyalty to Mother Miranda. To you, it mattered that you had no choice in being here, that only a handful of servants had come to the castle willingly. It mattered that a single mistake could mean a cruel death. So you did not greet your soulmate with a smile, or excitement, rather with a forced bow and blank expression. Better to be dead than to fake true love. “Come now, do at least pretend that you are excited, for my sake. I have been waiting a century for this, after all.”

“Perhaps the universe found it difficult to find someone who could love you,” you say, the words tumbling out of your mouth, instant regret boiling up inside of you. What you expect is a swift death. What you get? A deep sigh, a scowl, a look of frustration. Still fearing your possible demise, you are quick to keep speaking. “Or maybe the universe heard me talk once, and struggled to find someone to tolerate me. Countless possibilities, a galaxy full of mysteries… and here we are. Forgive me for being crass, my Lady. I would blame it on my schedule change, but something tells me you would see right through that lie, yes?” Not like that was much better, you think, wondering how the hell you were going to survive this.

“You’re quite the character, aren’t you?... Do try not to make me regret this, I’d rather not kill my soulmate. Now, sit down, it’s about time for a proper introduction,” Lady Dimitrescu commands. Then she’s sitting on the edge of her bed, gently patting the spot next to her. Joining her is just about the last thing you want to do right now… but you obey nonetheless. Still, you angle yourself away from her ever so slightly, hoping the subtle body language would help you distance yourself from her. There’s something in her expression that tells you she knows exactly what you’re trying to do. “I am Lady Dimitrescu, though you already know that. You may call me Alcina… for now. Behave, or that is one of many privileges I will not hesitate to take from you. Understood?”

It takes all of your willpower to avoid rolling your eyes, but you manage, instead giving a short nod. This’ll be interesting, for sure.

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! / Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here! / Part 15 Here! / Part 16 Here! / Part 17 Here! / < This is Part 18!>

Donate to Move to Higher Ground HERE!

* Your eyes open, and your hand flies to your throat 

* You’re thirsty

* You sigh as you sit up in your bed a little annoyed, you were having such a good dream too

* Only when you look to your night stand to grab your blood bottle, past it you see Edward sitting in your desk chair 

* “What are you doing?” Your voice is gravely, and you don’t wait for a response before uncapping your bottle and taking a sip

* Edward fidgets, his hands tugging with the sleeves of his shirt 

* “I like watching you sleep” he admits with a shrug and a boyish quirk of the lips. 

* Of course the dork likes watching you pretend to sleep

* Somethings haven’t changed from the books at least

* Maybe he’s part owl or something

* “Ugh, it’s already Sunday where does the weekend go?” You mumble, it’s around 3 am right now

* To be fair you know  half your Saturday went in self loathing in a tree, and the other half spent with your entire coven congratulating you and Edward on your new relationship

* “I call (Y/N) as my sibling the next time we move!” Emmett grins

* “That’s not fair, I was going to make them my sibling.” Jasper pouts

* “You already have Rosalie don’t get greedy”

* And then they all basically tried to plan out your wedding. 

* So the pressure is on

* At least you still have all Sunday before you have to face everyone at school though. You haven’t even tried to look at your phone 

* “Edward,” he perks up at the sound of your voice “were they really thinking vile thoughts about me?”

* His eyebrows thread together, head tilting to the side

* “Mike and Conner, you said they were thinking vile thoughts when you...came to get me.”

* It’s been bothering you for some time, Conner you can understand, but Mike? 

* You feel....betrayed 

* Edward averts his eyes, you’re half hoping he was lying to you and that he was just upset you were kissing other people

* “Were they thinking of r*ping me?” The second the words fall out of your lips he scampers closer, the chair screeching behind him.

* “No! No of course not-at least I don’t think so-“ His hand cups your face, the other cards through your hair. He sits on the edge of your bed carefully

* “They were thinking of taking you...” 

* oh well that’s no so bad.

* “At the same time”

* So that’s a little worse

* “So they were thinking about a threesome?” Edward winces at the word but nods

* You let out a sigh of relief, a threesome is still kinda sketchy but that’s just normal teenage boy brain for you 

* “At the time I didn’t appreciate their...vivid thoughts but” he looks into your eyes, like two pools of gold. “Maybe you wanted that.” 

*  He had acted instinctively upon seeing their thoughts, but in reality he wasn’t much better

* He had imagined that same needy expression on your face dozens of times 

* Maybe... you might have enjoyed an experience like that. After all two lovers are better than one

* He’s stuck in his own self loathing until he hears you laugh. 

* You’re actually laughing at him!

* He’s worried that you missed out on a vital human experience and you’re laughing!

* The nerve

* And yet, he feels his heart flutters when he see’s you smile at him

* “No, I’m good.” You laugh, and he feels himself let out a sigh of relief.

* “What about Jessica? Does she hate me now” Edward shakes his head

* “I think she might have a bit of a crush on you now.” He grins at your confused expression

* Well that’s unexpected

* You know you can’t really sleep but you feel exhausted, completely emotionally drained

* You snuggle back into the covers  And pat the space on the bed beside you

* “Sleep with me?” 

* Your face feels uncomfortably hot when you realize what you just said. “I just meant like-dream with me-not um no-“

* “I know what you meant” Edward says with a small smile

* He lies down on the other end of the bed, at least five feet away from you

* “You can come closer, you’re my boyfriend now, boyfriend privileges”

* Boyfriend 

* He’s always thought the word was garish. 

* A boy who was your special friend, how idiotic. But hearing the word tumble from your lips makes him unbelievably  happy 

* “What are boyfriend privileges?” He repeats carefully. Shifting so he is lying beside you

* “Normal couple stuff I guess, kissing, hugging, public affection-“ 

* and sex stuff

* “So I get to be as greedy with you as I want?” 

* You feel your face grow warm at the thought of Edward being as greedy with your body as he wants

* The way his hands would feel as they ghost over your body, his sweet rosemary and argon scent filling the air

* You can’t manage to get out words so you just nod, and he grins

* “Let’s go out tomorrow” 

* To like a hotel or?

* “We can go to the aquarium in Seattle, I think it’s supposed to rain so something indoors would be good.”

* Oh like greedy with your time

* That seems more on brand for Edward tbh 

* “The aquarium sounds nice”

* You curl into his chest, breathing in his scent deeply. He feels warm, not as warm as a human, but soothing in its own right. A gentle warmth, like the warmth from a candle

* You feel so safe here with him. You feel yourself drift off into sleep, and Edward’s arms tentatively wrap around you

* Your weight is pressed against him, and he can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have you pressed against him even more

* Your hands clawing at his chest as you plead

* “Great now I’m the one having vile thoughts” he murmurs to himself 

* You both sneak out early in the morning, while all your other coven members are still preoccupied 

* “Grab a couple blood bags and I’ll get some tumblrs” you nod, shoving it all quickly in his nike backpack, and you both practically jog to your jeep.

* The drive feels a lot shorter than you remember, it’s only 10 when you get there. 

* You sigh as you get out, you’re wearing faded blue jeans and a black coat that cinches at the waist

* Edward is dressed in a similar fashion, faded blue jeans, white shirt and a leather jacket

* Both of you wearing sunglasses 

* You don’t miss the looks you get as you walk across the parking lot. You already get a lot of attention as is�� with the hot pink Barbie jeep

* But you and Edward together look like something straight out of a magazine catalog 

* “Did you already buy tickets?” You ask, your arm linking through his. 

* “Yeah, we just have to pick them up at the box” 

* It’s actually pretty busy, it is a weekend day though so it’s to be expected 

* “(Y/N)?” You turn to the voice and feel like the wind got knocked out of you

* “Jessica, Bella...” and there’s someone else with them, brown skin and long dark hair.

* Well he’s kinda hot, for a human that is

* “What are you doing here?” 

* They’re like the weirdest group for a Sunday hang out

* “My Dad had some tickets, he was going to come with my mom but I guess they got in a fight or something.” 

* You get the feeling that there’s more to it than that, but you’re just happy she’s talking to you after you kissed her without consent 

* “Oh um , this is Jacob we’ve been friends since we were kids.” 

* So this is Jacob, he looks older for his age.

* “Hey Jacob nice to meet you, I’m (Y/N)” you extend your hand and you see him stiffen for a second

* Yeah that sounds about right. All humans get afraid when they first me et you, you are technically their natural predator after all. He seems to get over it and grasps your hand

* “Hey, nice to meet you” 

* “Do you go to school with us?” 

*You know he doesn’t, but you’ve found it best to pretend in this situation. 

* You glance at Edward who hiding a twitching smile, looks like he heard something interesting

* “No I go to school on the res, I’m a sophomore.” 

* Oh a sophomore, younger man is more her speed huh? And they’ve been friends for years, he’s to her what Edward is to you

* You ship it

* “Do you guys want to join us?” 

* You can feel Edward’s eyes piercing you in the back. Yeah you know this is a date, and he probably wants some quality time with you or whatever-

* But it’s not like you’re f*cking after or anything

* And honestly you kinda wanna see how this whole Bella-Jacob ship plays out 

* “Well I don’t-“ Bella starts

* “We’d love to!” Jessica interrupts, and then taking a nervous glance at Edward she adds:

* “That is if you don’t mind?”

* Queue everyone looking at Edward. He looks at you, a small pout bowing onto your lips and let’s out a deep sigh

* “No of course not, I’ll get the tickets and meet you at the gate.” He says with a resigned smile

* He leans down, catching your lips in his. You know you don’t have a beating heart, but you feel it stutter when he pulls away and smiles at you

* “See you in a bit daring” and then he walks towards the empty “reserved pass” line

* Darling?

* DARLING???

* (Y/N).Exe is broken

* And you would stay broken if Jessica and Bella didn’t each grab a shoulder and shake you.

* “Oh my god what was that?!?!” Jessica shrieks

* “Are you guys like...dating now?” Bella grins

* “Yeah, I guess we are?” The human part of you understands that you’ve just agreed you feel the same, and that you have just started a relationship

* But the vampire part of you, the primal part, knows it’s so much more than that

* He’s your mate

* And saving any major changes, he is yours for as long the universe will permit 

* “Wait are you guys on a date right now?” Jessica asks, and it pulls you right out of your thoughts

* She’s worried she’s intruding

* “No-I mean maybe? Honestly we both just wanted an excuse to get out of the house.” You sigh

* “Are the rest of the Cullen’s not taking it well?” 

* You do live together, and you’re at that age. Sure Emmett and Rosalie and together, but that seems to be under more transparent circumstances 

* So imagine her surprise when you card your fingers through your hair

* “No they’re taking it too well!” 

* Last night you basically rotated between coven members as they all told you how happy they were you were with Edward now

* “Honestly I thought the nerd would never find the nerve” Emmett confided in you

* “Eleazer you’ll never guess what happened....we’re going to be brothers!” You had heard Carlisle tell Eleazer over the phone before breaking down into tears

* “Carlisle stop crying, the venom is going to make a hole in the floor.” Esme shouted before turning her attention back to you

* “So what colors do you like (Y/N)? I’m partial to gold and white myself-“ she said pointing the color combination examples in her wedding book 

* They were driving you crazy.

* “Carlisle keeps rotating between smiling and crying because ‘two kids are leaving the house’ and Tanya called to give me the most smug speech about it- I just need a break.”

* You sigh

* “Wait-did all of this happen after the party?” Bella asks with a smile creeping onto her face

* Before you can answer though, you see Edward walking towards you

* “We’ll talk about this later” Jessica whispers, not that it matters, going on the smirk on Edward’s lips he already heard everything

* “So Tanya called you huh?” He whispers in your ear when the others move ahead

* His breath fanning against your ear causes your stomach to flip. You’ve been around him so long, you almost started to forget how hot he was.

* “Yeah, she’s basically hoping I crush your heart so she can get revenge.”

* You’re mostly joking, but given past history, you know she wouldn’t mind if that’s how things turned out anyway

* “That’s fair.” He looks almost sad. What the hell happened between them to make him like this?

* You want to ask, but you feel like now isn’t the best time. Not when Jessica and Bella are a mere five feet away arguing about whether to see the jellyfish or penguins first

* So you do the only thing you can: You reach out and hold his hand, squeezing it slightly. Edward doesn’t say anything, he just squeezes back

* It’s a pretty nice day, Bella’s dad bought her a digital camera so you take a bunch of cheesy pictures around the aquarium

* “Oh try to get one like a shark is eating us! Like I’m in Jaws!”

* “You know they’re an endangered species and that stupid movie doesn’t help right?” 

* “There is no ethical consumption under capitalism Bella”

* Edward just makes a pained expression as he holds up the camera. All he wanted to do was go on a date with his significant other

* “Girls am I right?” Jacob asks, extending his bag of popcorn

* For a second you think Edward might hate him, but instead a smile arch’s onto his face

* “You have no idea.” He smiles, taking a few kernels.

* Aw, it’s Edward’s first human friend 💖

* You kinda wish you were the one with a camera now, or at least a smart phone

* Instead you settle for a grainy picture on your flip phone. They both look at you like confused puppy's when the shutter clicks 

* “Aw that’s a cute one” Jessica coo’s

* “You even got a shark in the back” Bella says pointing to a blurry gray blob in the background

* It’s a good day 

* You’re almost sad when you have to part at the end 

* “You sure you guys don’t want to come with us? Jessica’s dad is letting us have his reservation at the revolving restaurant in the space needle”

* You and Edward exchange a look

* “Nah it’s fine, I’m pretty sure Esme is wondering when we’re coming home” 

* “She’ll be pissed if we eat there without here.” You add for good measure 

* “Well alright we’ll see you at school tomorrow” Jessica says with a wave, and you smile

* “See you tomorrow”

* Looks like things are back to normal

* Edward drives on the way back

* You hold the plush sea turtle close to your chest as you watch him

* He really is handsome, chiseled cheekbones and full rosy lips. To add he has that mane of auburn hair, and that irresistible splatter of freckles across his nose 

* The prettiest boy you’ve ever seen

* “I can feel you staring” he says with a smile twitching onto his lips. Oh god you want to kiss that stupid smile right off his mouth

* “What went wrong with you and Tanya?”

* Way to kill the vibe

* “I’m sure Tanya told you all about it.” He shrugs. There’s that sad look again

* “I want to hear about it from you though” 

* And Edward might have denied you if your hand hadn’t found his, resting on top of it 

* He grins

* You don’t play fair, do you?

* He sighs, squeezing your hand while keeping his eyes on the road

* “I just...didn’t like the way she thought about me”

* “Like you were a piece of meat?” 

* He laughs

* “Like I was some charity case besides-“ he stops abruptly, looking at you before swallowing hard. “Never mind”

* “No tell me!” You lean forward cradling your hand intertwined with his against your chest and he chuckles, you really don’t play fair

* “ I didn’t-I don’t feel attraction to people unless-“

* He looks into your eyes, and you feel his fingers squirm against yours 

* “Unless we’re friends first” 

* Oh, he’s asexual. 

*Or  demisexual. 

* Somewhere on the spectrum for sure

* Is he coming out to you right now? 

* You give his hand a squeeze 

* “I get that.”

* You want to smack yourself. 

* The boy you love just came out to you about his sexuality and all you can say is ‘I get that’ 

* You feel so useless

* But Edward doesn’t let you feel useless for too long, he squeezes back looking at you with such warm eyes

* And again you can’t help but think that even though his heart doesn’t beat anymore, he looks so human

* He’s just pulled into the driveway at the house, the car parked. He’s about to say something when you cut him off, tugging him closer to you and placing your lips on his

* If he’s surprised he doesn’t show it, placing his free hand on your shoulder and leaning a bit closer to you 

* He’s so careful and gentle...and dazzling 

* He’s barely touching you but you can feel yourself seeing stars

* That thing he does with his tongue-it’s indescribable 

* Are you sure he’s a virgin?!?

* You can’t help the sigh that passes your lips when he pulls away. You’re still in a daze when he pulls you into his lap, one leg straddled on each side 

* His head is tilted back, an easy smile on his mouth. 

* You suddenly feel shy, that look in his eyes should be illegal 

* “So-“ you lean back a bit “do you-um-do you have feelings like that for me?”

* He tilts his head to the side in confusion and you gulp

* “Y’know sexually speaking” 

* He actually laughs at you

* Right there, when you’re only a handful of inches away from his face

* But you’re not annoyed, instead all you can feel is a rush of affection

* His eyes crinkle at the ends, his pearly white fangs sparkling as he grins. Your hands cup his face as he looks up at you with adoration 

* You can imagine the rosy blush that would light his face so clearly, the deep emerald green of his eyes. You’re almost starving for the image you see in your mind to be real

* He pulls you out of the image with a simple touch. His arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer

* “I - like the rest of the entire student population at Forks High School- find you absolutely bewitching” 

* The way he says it makes you shiver, and Edward’s hand trails up your back. 

*He sits a little straighter, bouncing you slightly in his lap as he does, so you’re looking straight into his eyes

* “I find it hard to believe you don’t know that I have been dying inside everyday watching you walk around in those short shorts you love so much,” he whispers in your ear. 

*“That I haven’t been dying to absolutely ravish you .”

* You gulp.

* It’s all you can do when he’s looking at you like that

* If you thought Garrett’s bedroom eyes were intense, then Edward is on an entire different level

* You feel your heart stutter, butterflies erupting in your stomach...and something else

* A certain heat you haven’t felt in a long time

* You’ve never seen him look at anything like that, like he’s hungry- 

* Starving even 

* His lips brush against your neck, trailing down to your collar bone and you sigh

* He really knows everything about you doesn’t he? All your sweet spots, all your stories, every one of your secrets.

* Your hand trails up his chest, entangling in his hair and a low gasp tumbles from his lips

* And then your phone rings

* You hear him groan, and you shake your head

* “Ignore it” you mumble, your mouth meeting his once more 

* And you continue on for a few moments, until his phone rings

*He pulls away from you with a groan

* “Rosalie’s calling me a long list of profanities right now” he mumbles, you sigh pulling away to lean against the steering wheel 

* It’s probably for the best, no point in getting too turned on when you knew he was going to say ‘you should wait until marriage’

* Like honestly, he died, and you died, and now you live an alternative lifestyle where literally nothing matters anymore 

* But you’ll respect his wishes 

* “Guess we should go inside” You sigh, you move to get off of him

* But just as your about to crawl off, he tugs you to face him once more

* His thumb brushes over your cheek, and those deep gold eyes bore at you with that same intensity as before 

* He pulls you in for one last kiss, before getting out of the car and closing the door behind him

* “We’ll pick up where we left off later.” 

* (Y/N).exe is broken

* You walk to the house slowly, like humans do 

* “Are you ready?” He asks, holding out his hand

* You smile, placing your hand in his and nodding

* “Ready”

* So imagine your surprise when you and Edward get inside, hand in hand, to find the entire coven is laughing in the living room. 

* From where you’re standing you can only see Carlisle 

* “Ah your home! Come, I want you both to meet someone-“ 

* You move forward but Edward stays rooted to the spot

* Three people come into view, a woman with flaming red hair, a man -no older than 25- with rich mahogany skin, and a dazzling young man with hair the color of the sun.

* “Meet our new friends, Victoria, James and Laurent” 

* You turn to look at Edward, his mouth pinched into a frown

* Well F*ck 

Tags:  @moonlights27​ @thebluetint​ @the100thtwilight​ @awesomebooklover17​ @oneofthepotterheads​ @smileygirl08​ @imdoingathingmom​ @iconicgguk​ @yrawn​ @alyciaswhore​ @little-horror-show​ @wicked-watering-can​ @lazydreamers​ @ xxxmuxxx @ideas-for-you-to-adopt​​​ @poisoinedhope @maryleigh8796​​ @moose-squirrel-asstiel​​ @hotmessgoodness​ @jaimewho​ @corabmarie​ @what-am-i-doing10​ @alluring-venus​ @imdoingathingmom @anotheryooniverse​ @im-tired-not-sleepy​ @emmettcullenisahimbo​ @my-super-musical-life​ @smolvampiregirl​ @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream​ @mihikaahujaaa @werewolflover3252​ @teenagezombiekryptonite @shynz​ @reclusive-chicken-nugget​ @monkeyluver4546​

[supernovafeather]

Will Tomorrow Be ? (18+)

Duke Leto Atreides x F!Reader

Warnings : smut, dom!reader, oral sex (f! receiving), mutual pining, mention of death, war, canon violence, fluff, angst

- - - - - -

"My dear old friend."

These words greet you as well as a big toothy smile and a warm embrace. Without wasting any time you respond to it despite your slight yet pleased surprise. Yes, Leto and you are close - as close as millions of kilometers apart permit - and feeling his benevolence towards you is such a heartwarming experience.

"My Duke," you say in a taunting tone at his ear right before you both pull away, each of you holding the other's shoulders with firm hands. "Finally, we meet again."

"Finally, as you say." He sighs before adopting a more professional stance as he shows you the way towards your destination. "This travel must have been exhausting. Do you and your men need any assistance ?"

Yes, it did. It takes you a few seconds to find your words as you feel your lungs acclimating to the atmosphere slightly different to the air onboard of your ship. And coming from the depressing dark guts of this metal bird to the bright and blinding colors of Arrakis, walking between two lines of dozens of soldiers saluting you and their Duke... is satisfactory yet gives you a headache.

"I think my men will spend the rest of your day in a quiet place. Some alarm kept ringing for literal hours." You grimace as you clasp your hands behind your back at exactly the same time as he does. "But I am all yours for the day."

"I am honored by such a luck." He says in a low and honest voice that awakens some... familiar superiority in you. "Please be sure I am all yours as well for the day."

"I already knew it." You answer with a lower voice and a knowing yet discreet side glance. "I may live and fight far away from Arrakis, but I know for sure that deep down men won't change much in two years on some... aspects."

His groan gets masked by a scoff, but as he looks forwards you distinguish this little impatient smirk and this way his chest swollens under anticipation. You would be barely surprised if he was already tight in his pants. He always gets tight when you start taunting him.

"Don't start assuming men never change," he warns you as you walk up the hallway, escorted by his soldiers who have absolutely no idea of what you are talking about. "I thought you were wise. People can change."

"Have you changed this much, my Duke ?"

His quick glance at you makes his hunger obvious, and he doesn't need to answer for you to know what is crossing his mind.

"You see I was right," you chuckle comfortably as your eyes now wander over the graceful curves of the building. "I missed Arrakis after so many months far away from home."

"You know you are welcome whenever you want." Leto states with a softened gaze. "Of course, when rebellions don't force your mines to close and paralize half of this little frozen planet of yours." He adds with a mischievous face.

"You are lucky to be a Duke here." You exhale between your gritted teeth with clear discontent. "I thought I was about to make all their little camps explode without any negociation. Unsufferable fucking vermines. If they think they can do whatever they want on my planet..."

If the soldiers around you understand his low "shhh" as a disapproving sign, you feel this hidden chill running down his body. He likes - loves - your anger. You want to go further but of course, appearance being appearance and the etiquette being the etiquette...

"I am sorry my Duke." You nod in respect. "I shouldn't let such words cross my lips. Those months have been... long and tiring."

"Let your body get some rest then. Allow yourself to enjoy warm water, different food and the joy of peace."

You do all of this, and gladly as stress slowly leaves your body during the hours following your arrival. Leto knows you by heart and hasn't prepared anything too noisy nor bright. The first times here after your promotion that had you leaving Arrakis, you heard some advisors debating whether or not you would consider it as rude, as a lack of respect, especially as your ruthless nature got revealed against the rebellion that had been lasting for months. But now, they know it is for the best.

And as Leto knows you enjoy simple things, and knows what exactly, once you are alone he shows you his respect, as he is due to do according to your rules. Once his door closes behind you in his chambers, you hold his amused gaze, making it melt into an intrigued one.

"Kneel down, Duke." You demand as your face and voice turn completely cold, trained by months on this icy and emotionless planet.

He obeys, never leaving your eyes, his uniform touching the ground as he rests his weight on it. You run your fingers through his hair, enjoying the softness of his curls. White and grey are more present than the last time and a hint of nostalgia pinches your heart. What have you done to this... relationship ? Why is it like this ? Why is it normal between you that you manage to put a Duke to his knees. Your friendship and your shared fetish maybe. Maybe it is enough to explain everything. Getting hurt by life, responsibilities and consequences must bring people closer in one way or another maybe.

"I missed this too." You sigh later, as darkness embraces this side of Arrakis and your gaze turned towards the stars visible through the window.

Laying nonchalantly, you close your eyes as you focus on the slow licks on your wet entrance, your thighs made warm if not hot by Leto's breath. You would be lying if you said that what you are doing has nothing sexual. Of course it is sexual. But release is not your aim. Nor his. For the both of you it is just a way like another one to stop time. You, laying there and naked on his bed because of what you consider to be a torrid temperature, and him still wearing his nocturnal clothings as this night on Arrakis is too cold for him. You glance down, smiling as you watch the salt and pepper mob of hair moving as he licks up your clit dozens of times gently. His arms hold your thighs firmly, like you would try to get away from his grasp.

"Arrakis is ruled by such a good boy." You smirk as you scratch his scalp to reward him. "Do you know that ?"

He kisses your crotch several times before going up your belly, your fingers grabbing his hair as he crawls up to your eye level, your wetness all over his thick bears and mouth.

"If you say so then it is true." He whispers against your lips before making you taste yourself, his tongue sliding against yours for what seems to be the thousandth time tonight.

You tolerate his hand soon closing around your right breast. Not that it is unwelcome in any way. It is just that in your little private game, you are the one taking decisions. You are the one gicing orders. You are the one saying where the kisses go. Same for tongues, fingers, moans. But you don't cross unhealthy limits. You let him his freedom outside those games. He wants to touch your body ? No problem. The thing is... he geta easily emotional with you. And you remember it as his mouth now travels down to your throat as you stare at the ceiling, feeling his erection back inside your entrance. Your heart is beating hard all of a sudden as you hear his whimper. You hold him by his shoulder blades, your heart torn between your need of control and the pride you feel at his praises.

"I love your body," he whispers between two sloppy kisses on your chin. "I've missed it."

"Oh, really ?" You say emotionlessly as your eyes get dry due to the absence of blinking.

"So much." He exhales against your throat at his first and long thrust. "You're wonderful. Absolutely divine my Lady."

He nibbles your shoulder and you hide your face against his hair. You hate those feelings now turning your eyes wet. Life taught you to always be in control of everything. If something fails, it is your fault. If someone dies, it is because of sone decision you made. How can Leto... just... say everything to you like this ? Is your friendship enough for him to trust you this much ?

"Feels so good, shit," he grins in delight as his hips grind over and over between your thighs.

He tries to look at your face but you force him to keep his head down, your hand holding his hair firmly to keep your face hidden against his skull. He was the one who planted those feelings just by a blissed smile and his heated kisses during one night. You let your guard down once, you let him look at you with unrestrained love. You let him do it once. Only once and it was over for you. Distance didn't change anything. Two decades of mutual respect burning down to a rain of ashes.

"Leto." You moan as guilt engulfes your veins, your chin resting on his head and your face turned to the ceiling.

He hums as he keeps thrusting, and you let him take your wrist, holding them above your head and his lips grazing yours.

"Want to let me some control ?"

You nod as you turn your head away, moving your hips to distract him from your possibly visible tears.

But he stops. He is still inside. Your heart is pounding as you hear his quiet breath by your ear. Your palms are wet.

"Did I hurt you ?"

No. He didn't. You did it yourself after all. So you just shake your head. You refuse to cross his gaze. And it hurts your ego to go from the one making him kneel down just with a few words to the one crying for no reason. Crying. Fuck.

"Kitten, did... anyone hurt you ?"

Him and his pet names when he goes soft.

"No. No one did." You answer with a lump forming in your throat. "I'm just tired. My nerves you know."

"Come here."

Maybe you can just stop pretending to be ok. Of course you can. So as soon as he slides out of you and rests on his bed, you snuggle without looking at him. You only close your eyes, letting his hands rubbing your back. You don't sob, it's just tears running down freely. It's great to let them go sometimes. Control is hell of a drug.

"Tell me what's wrong."

You don't answer for a long time so he keeps rubbing your back. His voice gets audible after what feels like hours.

"You are safe here."

"I know."

He kisses the top of your head and it calms you down drastically. You like it. So you graze his skin with your lips, where his heart is beating.

"Look at me." He demands.

You do. There is worry in his pupils, his hair still dishevelled from earlier. Why had he to be so expressive ?

"Leto I'm sorry I..."

"I am the one having to be sorry." He mumbles with a grimace. "I should have noticed something was wrong."

"It has nothing to do with you."

"If I didn't hurt you... Did I disgust you somehow ? I know you don't really... appreciate when I'm... gentle, but... is it such a turn off to you ?"

You shrug. You guess it is.

"I like it. Just... in bed it's... weird to me."

"And now ?"

He kisses your head several times with such gentleness you can only grin at it. His beard rubs against your forehead and you end up running your fingers through his hairs to appreciate their touch. It soothes you.

"I like it." You admit with a broken voice.

Now you feel stupid. How is it possible to overreact when your partner is too soft ? Too roigh you understand but too soft ? Too tender ?

Loving.

"See ?" He says as he nuzzles your nose with this benevolence lightning his eyes. "Nothing to be afraid of, kitten."

"Do you love me ?"

Is a question necessary ? Not really, you know the answer. But you need something solid. Something you can rely on. Such as this sorrow on his face. His words.

"I do. I should have kept these feelings away. But... I am where I am today. Are you disgusted ?"

You shake your head and stay against him, your fingers now drawing patterns on his skin. You are tired. You just wanted some fun before falling asleep.

"No. I'm not. I'm just not used to... you know."

"To love ? To be loved ? To feel loved ?"

"Yeah. All... all of this." You answer sheepishly at how naive yet important all of this meant to you. "It's weird to feel."

"And it's weird to me to feel love from you but not see it." He mumbles betweenntwo kisses on your head. "What are you afraid of ? My title ? Distance ?"

"Please Leto, I've been in the military for over two decades, now on a remote amd rebellious planet wanting my death. I need to dominate everyone all the time. My food and drinks can be poisoned, my friends amd allies can have a knife hidden in their sleeve. You are the man I trust the most in the universe, yet... you are too far away for me to ask for help."

"Why are you here then ?" He whispers. "You are the one who asked to visit Arrakis."

"I didn't ask for help. I asked for salvation."

"Is it... so desperate out there ?"

"We are about to lose the planet." You say as you sit up on the bed, feeling one large hand rubbing your back. "I give it two months before the emperor loses it. They want my death. The rebels. My men. The emperor."

An exhausted sigh finds its way and you lie down, turning your gaze to Leto's who's resting on his elbow, looking down at you with a frown. Even though you are more dominant, you like his stern and serious face when he is back at his title.

"The emperor wouldn't have promoted you to send you so far. You were precious to our army here."

"If you think so."

The gears in his head are turning and you smile as he looks away, his features tensing at all the thoughts crossing his mind. You caress his cheek, getting his attention back to you.

"I love you Leto." You say without a sound.

He still gets your message, welcoming you in his arms again. You don't know what tomorrow will be made of. But you sure know how today feels.

- - - -

Thanks for reading ! Please comment and reblog if you liked it ! 😊

@abelslittlebunny @ophelialoveshandsomemen @salome-c @anetteaneta @dilfoscarisaac

[swaps55]

Mnemonic

This is an AU version of a standalone scene from Cantata that I rewrote with kissing. Because there was a lot of UST and I am weak. 

Ao3

14 June 2180, Hades Gamma, Farinata System, SSV Myeongnyang

For a biotic, the armor never really comes off. What they carry under their skin is like a live wire, a current always in need of grounding.

Standing face-to-face with half a dozen L2 biotics holding the chairman of the Parliament Subcommittee for Transhuman Studies hostage on the MSV Ontario makes it a lot easier for Kaidan to see how much he takes for granted having a safe place to do it. And knowing how.

Reparations for the L2 side effects are a pipe dream. But a pipe dream Colin Daggett and his people needed to cling to, whatever the cost. And it had almost cost them everything.

Shepard doesn’t say much as they arrange for the survivors to be transferred to the Madrid’s brig and the engineering crew arrives to secure the Ontario for the trip to Arcturus. He says even less on the way through the airlock back to the ‘Yang, and the rest of the squad take their lead from him.

When they’re back on board the ship he disappears, sucking the air out of the room with him. They kit down without him.

“You’re an L2, aren’t you?” Pendergrass asks as she shoves her arms through the sleeves of her uniform, armor plating in a heap at her feet.  

Beaudoin jabs her with an elbow.

“Yeah,” Kaidan murmurs, fingers tracing the amp port on the back of his neck when he removes the protection plate. He flexes his fingers, gravity well jumping into his touch. As he reaches for his chest plate to store it in his gear locker, an electric shock passes through him.

When 23:00 rolls around, Kaidan shows up in the mess as usual, figuring he’ll keep it simple tonight and just make some pasta. Shepard is there waiting, as usual, picking at a spot on the table while Kaidan pulls out a pot and finds a container of pasta. The entire time the water boils Shepard doesn’t say a word, stubbornly lost in thought.

Kaidan tells himself he’s not going to do more than olive oil and garlic – it’s been too long of a day for effort – but by the time he gets it to the table there’s parmesan cheese, parsley, and even a little red pepper in the mix.

“You going to tell me what’s up, or do I get to guess?” Kaidan asks when he sits down across from him and hands off a fork. He spent too much energy on going above and beyond with the red pepper to bother with a second bowl. They’ll just have to share.

Shepard looks up, almost in surprise. “Just thinking.”

“You’ve been thinking ever since you got Chairman Burns through the airlock. Maybe you should think out loud.”

The gravity well churns as Shepard stirs eddies in it, in tune with the twirl of his fork in the pasta bowl. “Everything that happened on that ship hinged on what Daggett did with his pistol.”

His toying intensifies, until blue energy shimmers around his knuckles. This one’s been chewing at him. A snap of electricity skips between his finger and the fork, and he drops it with an annoyed mutter. He looks up.

“You pulled the gun out of his hands,” he says.

And Shepard had put a bullet between his eyes. The fight had gone out of the rest pretty quickly.

“He wasn’t going to put it down,” Kaidan says. “We all knew it.”

“No. He wasn’t. And if you hadn’t been there, that standoff turns into a clusterfuck where everyone dies.”

A soft smile tugs at Kaidan’s lips. “Guess it’s a good thing I was there.”

Shepard picks up the fork again, staring at it with an unfocused gaze before he stabs it back in the bowl and twirls more pasta.  

“I couldn’t have done what you did. I can’t refine a field like that. I was prepared to shoot everyone in that room. But you pulled the gun right out of his hands.”

Only because Shepard had given him the chance. Whether Shepard had done it with purpose or actually hesitated is a question he hasn’t been in a hurry to examine too closely.

“We work together, remember? In case you hadn’t noticed, we’ve gotten pretty good at it.”

Shepard huffs. “Yeah. We have.”

“But you’re just gonna get bent out of shape about not being able to do everything yourself, anyway.”

“Have you met me?” Shepard says with a helpless shrug.

“Yeah, I’ve had the pleasure,” Kaidan says with a chuckle. He pushes his chair back. “Come on, then.”

Shepard casts him a suspicious look. “Come where?”

“To the gym.”

“Alenko—”

“Come on.” He nods towards the elevator and starts walking, smirking a little when Shepard’s chair scrapes against the floor and his feet hit the deckplates.

“You’re just dying to give me a taste of my own medicine, aren’t you,” Shepard grouches when they board the lift.

“Oh, definitely.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Apparently not when it comes to taking people’s pistols out of their hands.”

Shepard chuckles, though he tries to choke off a smile by looking down at his feet. When they get to the gym Kaidan digs a canteen out of his locker and sets it down on one of the sparring mats.

“I’m guessing that your training didn’t include a lot of control drills,” he says.

Shepard shakes his head. “Tulak wasn’t big on control. Overwhelming tidal force tends to be the krogan approach.”

“You don’t say.”

“Sarcasm does not become you, Alenko.”

Kaidan grins and points to the canteen. “Start simple. Just lift it off the ground.”  

Shepard rolls his eyes, but taps into the gravity well, corona enveloping him in a shroud of snapping blue tendrils. The hairs on Kaidan’s arms stand on end.

It’s so rare he gets to just watch Shepard work. All unrestrained power, from the loose, angry snarl of his corona to the sweeping mnemonics, make him seem larger than life. When he swipes the canteen off the floor he does it with his entire arm. The canteen leaps into the air, nearly hitting the ceiling before Shepard wrangles it. He only holds it still for half a second before sending it skidding to the other side of the gym.

“Hm,” Kaidan says.

Shepard gives him a withering look before marching off to fetch the wayward canteen. “It’s small. I don’t do well with small.”

“Not sure the size trips you up as much as you think it does,” Kaidan muses. “That mnemonic of yours applies some pretty impressive force automatically, so you’re already playing catch up if you’re trying to control the speed or direction.”

“See, I can’t tell if you’re complimenting me or giving me shit.”

“Both.”

“Har.”

Shepard resets the canteen and comes back to Kaidan to try it again, standing close but not so close their fields intersect. Kaidan watches through three variations that all end almost the same way, too much force being applied to the canteen, making it nearly impossible for Shepard to control where it goes, or where it doesn’t.

Doesn’t matter that he’s not accomplishing what it intends. The way the gravity well cants under his touch, the way his corona lights him ablaze like a flickering star, the way it caresses every nerve in Kaidan’s body like a swash of silk is mesmerizing. Kaidan swallows before trying to speak.  

“Good news is, if we ever need someone to punt a suspicious canteen into space, I know who to call.”

Shepard rolls his eyes. “And if you’re not around to yank pistols out of terrorist hands?”

“Well, first, I will be around. But second, as for the pistol, yanking it towards you isn’t so different from kicking it away from you.” He cracks a grin. “In your case you just need to be prepared to duck.”

“Have I mentioned that separating the pistol from the person holding it wouldn’t end well for anyone?” Shepard says. “If you were to go hold that canteen in your palm and ask me to do what I just did, you wouldn’t like me very much.”

I doubt that.

“One problem at a time,” Kaidan says. “Let’s work on controlling the canteen by itself, then we’ll add clutter.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?”

“You need a new mnemonic. You’re fighting yourself by adding force and trying to take it away at the same time.”

“I’m sensing a metaphor.”

Kaidan smirks. “Think that says more about you than it does me.” Before Shepard can protest he raises an arm. “Watch me. You don’t have to use my mnemonic, but I want you to see something different so you can visualize it.”

Shepard folds his arms across his chest, but does what Kaidan asks. A nervous thrill runs through him at the undivided attention.

Kaidan waves a wrist, a hard-learned, hard-fought mnemonic that now feels as natural as breathing. Dark energy rushes through him, responsive and willing, as his fingers flex and settle a field over the canteen. Very little mass-shifting needed to pick up a light-weight canteen, which makes it tricky to keep from doing exactly what Shepard did – send it spinning out of control. But Kaidan has spent years perfecting his ability to do exactly this, so the canteen rises off the floor until it reaches eye level. Kaidan closes his fist and holds it still, floating almost motionless in mid-air.

“That mnemonic is so damned subtle,” Shepard says with an appreciative shake of his head. A flush builds at the back of Kaidan’s neck.

“Easier for me that way.”

Shepard grunts and unfolds his arms. “I was never good at levitation.”

“Because your mnemonics always apply force.”

“Need force to yank that pistol.”

“Sure, but if you want to control it, you need to learn how to hold it still.”

“I’m not good at still.”

“I know,” Kaidan says, lips curving into a smile. “So come here and let me show you.”  

Shepard strays a step closer into Kaidan’s biotic field. The blend of auras creates a low keen through his nerves, familiar but always striking. The canteen wavers before falling to the ground.

“Sorry,” Shepard mumbles, but doesn’t back away.

“It’s fine,” Kaidan says, lifting the canteen again with another float of his palm.

Their eyes lock for a moment before Shepard clears his throat and looks down at Kaidan’s hand.

“You put everything in your wrist.”

“Yeah,” he manages. “You do it all with your arms.”

“Yeah.”

“So maybe, if you’re looking for finesse, try to create a mnemonic that’s a little, uh, smaller.”    

“With my wrist.”

“Right. Um, I’ll show you. Here.” He steps in front of Shepard, angling his body to align their right arms. He takes Shepard’s right hand guides it to his wrist, tingle running down his spine when his fingers close around it. Shepard glances at him with soft eyes that stop the breath in his throat, but doesn’t object.

“Hands-on teacher?”

“Best way to learn,” Kaidan replies, gaze flicking to Shepard’s mouth before going back to the canteen. “Just follow my lead. Don’t act on the canteen. Concentrate on what my arm does. Visualize it.”

“Sure,” Shepard murmurs.

Kaidan reaches into the gravity well, his own corona unfurling, a steady candle to Shepard’s flaring torch. Goosebumps rise on Shepard’s arm, a subtle reminder that he’s human after all, one Kaidan is almost never close enough to witness.

He takes a deep breath and flexes his wrist, Shepard’s fingers loose and feather-light against his skin. A crackle of dark energy passes between them before he snares the canteen and turns his wrist palm-up to lift it off the floor, Shepard close enough his breath washes over Kaidan’s cheek. The canteen wavers but Kaidan keeps it afloat for several seconds, the mingle of auras, ripple of kinetic energy and closeness of Shepard enough to make him dizzy.

He lets it go with a clatter and puts space between them.

“Does that help?” he asks, trying not to sound breathless.

“Yeah. It does.” Shepard’s gaze stays on him, still and steady. “Might take a while to hard-wire my brain for something in the wrist.”

“Doesn’t have to be that. It could be something else. But you associate those big movements with force. Take that away, you might have more luck with leaving velocity out of the initial execution, so you can add it how you need it. Have more control over it.”

Shepard’s mouth crooks in a half-smile. “Sure I’m not a lost cause when it comes to control?”

“I’m sure.”

Shepard breaks his gaze and focuses on the canteen, brow furrowed in concentration. Twice he catches himself using his arm, then nearly wrenches his wrist trying to restrict the movement.

“It’s so ingrained,” he says with a shake of his head.

“That’s why they work,” Kaidan says with a smile. “Here.” He steps close once again, positions reversed with his hand on Shepard’s wrist this time. “Let me help.”

“Fuck, your hands are cold,” Shepard says with a laugh.

Hastily, he loosens his grip. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Shepard says with a grin.  “Go on.”

Gently, Kaidan closes his fingers again. Shepard trains his eyes on the canteen, though they dart to Kaidan ever so briefly.

Shepard’s corona is so bright, so fierce, it’s a wonder he can wrangle it at all. Kaidan breathes in deep, letting his own kindle, the snick and crackle as they blend together forming a resonant hum that hovers just under his skin.

When Shepard’s arm moves, Kaidan tightens his grip, keeping the motion small. Instead of his usual languid, fluid posture, Shepard’s arm is stiff and resistant against him. The canteen spins in a circle but stays on the ground.  

“Breathe, Shepard,” Kaidan says softly. “Just let it happen.”

Shepard inhales deep, like someone trying to relearn how. This time they move together, Kaidan picking up the slack when Shepard falters, until the canteen hovers briefly in the air. It’s more under Kaidan’s control than Shepard’s, but it’s a start, and that’s what matters.

They gutter out and the canteen falls, but Kaidan doesn’t let go and doesn’t step away, not yet, not quite yet, not while the remnants of kinetic energy are still sharp in the air and he has to remind himself to breathe, too.

“How do you do that?” Shepard murmurs. “You worked around me, without…taking over. How do you do that?”

Their eyes lock for just a moment. God Kaidan could get lost there if he’s not careful. “Practice. Years of it.”

Let go.

He means to. He means to. In his head he loosens his hold on Shepard’s wrist, drops his hand away and puts space between them. That’s what he tells himself to do. That’s what he intends to do.

But while he does loosen his grip, instead of fall away, Kaidan’s fingertips brush Shepard’s knuckles, the pad of his thumb running along the round muscle of his palm.

It’s an accident. Just an accident. So many of their touches are, but rather than move or pull away, rather than let it be just another one of those excusable, explainable slips, Shepard exhales, the breath fluttering out of him, then splays his fingers wider, as if making room for Kaidan’s to slot between them.

Let go, let go.

But instead he explores the open space Shepard has left for him, fingertips light, hesitant, ghosting Shepard’s skin as he finds where they fit, hovering, hoping, but never daring to rest. Never giving up the ruse.

It’s an accident. It doesn’t mean anything.

Except it does.

Shepard stays still as a stone save for the rise and fall of his chest. They’re close enough now their cheeks almost touch, though whether Kaidan moves or Shepard does to close that gap he can’t say.

The next time Kaidan’s fingers trespass through that open space, Shepard closes his around them and traps them there.

Kaidan’s breath hitches.

The gravity well sighs as Shepard calls to it, glow of dark energy limming their hands, accompanied by a soundless hum that strums every nerve in Kaidan’s body before settling in his groin. Without thinking his other hand comes to rest on Shepard’s hip, needing something, anything, to hold onto.

A soft sound stirs in Shepard’s throat. Kaidan’s hand doesn’t stay on that hip for long, because Shepard seeks those fingers out, too, lacing them together. Kaidan folds both arms until Shepard is surrounded by them. There’s no imagining any space between them now – their cheeks rest against each other, Kaidan tightening his hold until Shepard is snug against his chest.

Shepard turns his head, but after briefly meeting each other’s gaze, his eyes drift down to Kaidan’s mouth.

Kaidan can still let go. There’s still a way out. Chalk it up to adrenaline, nerves leftover from the standoff on the Ontario. They can walk it off, laugh, pretend it never happened, continue on like they always have.

But he doesn’t let go, and then the millimeters between Shepard’s lips and Kaidan’s no longer exist and the window is gone.

Shepard’s mouth is warm, soft, lips tinged with the salt of his sweat. They start out slow, cautious, neither of them daring to think about it too hard, but that’s not a problem for long, because soon there’s no room to think about anything at all.

Nothing else matters but this.

Slow and cautious becomes deep and headlong, Kaidan pushing his tongue between Shepard’s teeth, Shepard sighing into his mouth and taking him in. His fingers tighten around Kaidan’s, the glow of dark energy rippling out from their joined hands until it swallows them whole. Kaidan gasps at the sensation.

Shepard kisses him harder.

God.

Kaidan wants to spin him around, throw his arms around his neck and meet him head on, give in to everything, all of it, but he can’t bear the thought of turning loose of that hand.    

They part when they run out of air, both straining to catch their breath, fingers still entwined, Shepard still firmly ensconced in Kaidan’s arms as his corona fades.

Shepard rests his cheek against Kaidan’s, ensconcing himself a little further.

“Oh,” he says softly.

“Yeah.”

Shepard’s fingers flex within his, twining and retwining, never letting go.

“You…don’t seem surprised.”

Kaidan closes his eyes, breathing him in, a star he’s somehow pulled down out of the heavens and trapped right here in his arms.  “No. Felt it…for a long time now.”

“Oh.”

“…Yeah.”

Their coronas may have faded, but the mingle of their biotic fields is a constant, soothing whisper under Kaidan’s skin. A small, contented sound slips from Shepard’s throat.  

“Why didn’t I see it?”

Kaidan huffs. “To be fair, I don’t think either of us are very good at this kind of thing.”

Shepard tightens his grip on Kaidan’s fingers and pulls them to his chest. The race of Shepard’s heart thrums under their joined hands. If Kaidan had any illusions about letting him go, they’re gone now.    

“I think I’d like to learn,” Shepard says.

Kaidan’s stomach flips. “Me too.”

They stay still, Kaidan content to hold him, Shepard content to be held, until their lips find each other once more. Kissing Shepard is easy, effortless, like it’s something they were meant to do, a safe place for the live current running under their skin to go to ground.

Shepard, against all evidence to the contrary, is…safe.  

Shepard gazes at him when they part, and butterflies cut loose in Kaidan’s stomach.

“You’re very good at that,” Shepard murmurs.

“We’re very good at a lot of things.”

“Yeah. We are.” He draws Kaidan’s hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” Kaidan admits. “What do you want?”

“You.”

A shiver runs down Kaidan’s spine, the euphoria of that one, single word enough to make him lightheaded. So simple. So complicated. They’ll have choices to make, all of them with compromises and consequences. But that’s something for tomorrow. Right now there is only the truth.  

“I want that, too.”

Shepard releases Kaidan’s hand to turn until they’re face to face, then runs his fingers through the hairs growing over Kaidan’s right temple. All the while those glittering eyes search Kaidan’s face, as though reconciling all the things he knows with the things he’s learning for the first time.

The corners of his eyes crinkle as a smile spreads across his face, pure, open, and full of possibility. “Taste of my own medicine, huh?”

“Well…” Kaidan shrugs helplessly, and Shepard’s grin only gets deeper.  

“Seems like I should have let you teach me a few things a long time ago.”

Kaidan flexes his fingers, a curl of dark energy igniting in his palm that draws out goosebumps along Shepard’s arm. “All in the wrist.”

Shepard laughs. It’s like music. “You and me.”

“I like that,” Kaidan murmurs, before kissing him again. “I like that a lot.”

[tessiete]

TESS! Hope you are well!!!! Prompts prompts prompts! If you’re not already inundated with requests, allow me to add my own greedy submission to the pile: “Who gave you permission to fall asleep?” for Qui-Gon and Obi if you feel up to it! 🤟🏼❤️

WELL HELLO FRIEND!! I absolutely feel up to it. I'm just, you know, bad at time management, so I apologise for the delay. Please accept my many, most sincerest thanks for sending the prooompt in the form of this....thing. What I wrote. SOME BABY-WAN WHUMP, AND DAD-CARE!

You're absolutely wonderful! THANK YOU!

On The Clock

The sun never sets on Coravian Bast. It says so on all their coins, and all their dataries. It is stamped at the summit of every federal building, and pressed into the plastoid casing of every holobook, every datapad, every speeder and tug and ship they manufacture. It is both an astronomical truth, and the rallying cry of a people who, for centuries, have remained proud, and strong, living beneath the ever-burning glory of their sun. But now, that sun is burning out.

It is not by sabotage, or ambition, or folly. It is not brought about by anything more malicious than the passage of time, and it is a tragedy which has been predicted now for many years. And for many years, the government of Coravian has been planning. With the aid of the Republic and the support of several high ranking senators, Coravian has made arrangements for the mass migration of their population to new homes on new worlds. The sun will set on Coravian Bast, but never on her people.

Yet some do not go willingly. Some resist the edicts, and declare they will not leave. Some declare that they do not mean to let anyone else go either, and for this reason, the Jedi Council has seen fit to assign a Master-Padawan pair capable of overseeing the evacuations. Up to now, the population has been peaceful. The protestors have been loud, but cautious. They do not expect anything of note to happen. Master Jinn gives his padawan a sardonic grin and suggests that perhaps someone will give an impassioned speech.

“Coravinians are known for their philosophical debates,” he says. “Nearly every city has an ampitherium. It’s like a park filled with tall platforms wide enough only to stand on, but tall enough to see over the head of a grown wookiee.”

“What do they do on them?” Obi-Wan asks, in awe.

“They talk,” his master says. “Sometimes for hours.”

“About what?”

“Oh, this and that,” he says. “The longest recorded was a discourse on the nature of sentience in ancient korarchetropes of the protopaleo era, four thousand four hundred million years ago.”

“Oh,” says Obi-Wan, his brow furrowed in thought. “Did the korarchetropes leave many written records?”

“No, my padawan,” replies Qui-Gon. “They were a primitive, single-celled form of life.”

“Oh.” There is a pause, longer and more uncertain than before. “Will we have to listen to one while we’re there?”

The master smiles. “Not unless you are particularly disobedient.”

“Then I’ll be on my best behaviour,” Obi-Wan swears with a smirk. “I promise.”

It is not a difficult thing for him to be, his master thinks, and indeed he is the very picture of deference and decorum during the two weeks they are there. Every day, he walks at his side, three steps behind and one to the left. He is unobtrusive, and observant. He speaks intelligently when spoken to, and remembers every obscure custom and tradition that their hosts play out in preparation for leaving the planet, and Qui-Gon is proud. His padawan has come such a long way from the desperate little waif he’d found on Bandomeer, and yet not so far as to have lost that youthful naivety, and trust in the world. He will make a fine Knight, if Qui-Gon is careful enough. If he is restrained enough. And cautious. And aware.

And yet, no sooner does he conclude this than all his plans are torn apart, for the next day, as they stand upon the viewing stage to watch another transport of refuges lift off and head for space, there is an attack. The Coravinians do not fight with words this time, but with bombs and grenades. A sonic blast throws him from the platform before he can draw his saber, and in another instant the remains of the stage goes up in flames and it is all he can do to leap free and regain his bearings.

One of the federal aides is dead, lying torn and bloodied a few feet away. Another staggers forward, coughing in the smoke. Obi-Wan. Where is Obi-Wan?

He searches around him, frantic, but there is nothing he can see except fire and ash. In desperation, he turns his focus inward to pluck at the little strand of light between them, hoping that it may ring out clearly even amidst the chaos. It is still new, and still very slight. The thread tremors beneath the weight of his mental touch, singing its note high and sweet and very much alive.

“Obi-Wan!” he cries out, surging forward, following the thread as it draws him along its path until he comes to a heap of steel and stone. He reaches out in the Force, and with his hands, scrabbling at the pile of debris. With a single thought, he moves a heavy cement boulder, and he pushes back twisted steel and rebar.

“Master!” It’s Obi-Wan, and his voice is strong and steady. “Master, under here!”

Qui-Gon can feel his own fear clogging his throat. It tastes like oil and charcoal, and he spits to clear it from his mouth, working as fast as he can to reach his padawan. A few more seconds, and he discovers a pocket of air beneath the scrap. A pale hand, smeared in soot reaches up through a gap, flailing blindly for purchase.

“Padawan!” he cries, and he falls over the rubble to catch that small hand in his own, feeling the soft palms, and smooth skin, as yet unweathered by age or strife. “Obi-Wan, are you alright?” he asks.

“Yes, master,” his padawan replies. “I think - only, I think I hit my head.”

“Are you bleeding?” He does his best to keep his voice steady. To stay calm. To leave the thread taut and unplucked in his mind. He strokes the back of Obi-Wan’s hand in comfort.

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan says. “It’s dark down here. Master -?”

“I’ll get you out,” he says. His grip slackens, and for a moment, Obi-Wan’s tightens in reflex, afraid of letting go, but he quickly masters himself and allows Qui-Gon to slip away.

Relying more on brute strength than the Force, Qui-Gon tears at the rock until it falls away, and he can reach inside the cavern to pull Obi-Wan free. Whether Obi-Wan is lighter than Qui-Gon anticipates, or whether his arms are fuelled with terror and fear, his padawan comes out of the rubble with enough momentum that he is sent staggering into his master’s arms, nearly falling to his knees. But Qui-Gon catches him, sets him aright, and is soon crouched before him, running his hands up and down his arms, over his shoulders and back, and along his scalp searching for injuries.

He finds one just above Obi-Wan’s left ear, hidden in his hairline. But even his thick, tawny tuffets cannot disguise the slick of blood, and his padawan winces as his fingers skim over the open wound.

“Anywhere else?” he demands.

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “No, master,” he says, but his legs buckle, and his fingers clench around Qui-Gon’s forearms as he tries to resist the pull of nausea in his gut.

Qui-Gon frowns. “We need to get you to a medcentre.”

“No, master!” Obi-Wan protests. “The bombers. They’ll get away!”

“Little One, there is no chance they are anywhere close enough to be found. That is the purpose of a bomb. Did you feel anything amiss in the Force before it detonated?”

“No,” he says.

“Then you understand,” he replies. “If they were near, they would have surely stood out in a sea of otherwise placid civilians.”

“But still -”

“No,” the master insists. “You must be tended to first. You will not help me if you collapse while in pursuit of ghosts. Do you understand?”

Obi-Wan says nothing, but he nods, his chin dropping to his chest, and his fingers flexing in the folds of Qui-Gon’s robes.

“Now, stay close, and follow me,” says Qui-Gon. He straightens again, peering through the smoke to find salvation. The wind has picked up. The ringing in his ears has stopped. He can hear the cries of dozens of injured people, but none that are near enough for him to help. Some ways away, he sees the ash of the explosion recede and finds sunny daylight beyond. With one hand to guide his student at the elbow, he makes for that.

Obi-Wan stumbles along, tripping over rock and rubble. With each step, he grows more and more uncoordinated. To Qui-Gon it seems as though he is half carrying him before they’ve gone more than a hundred yards.

“Master,” Obi-Wan mumbles, as his toe catches on a stone and his legs give out. He hardly makes any effort to save himself, but his fall is aborted by Qui-Gon’s hand at his arm. “Master, I don’t feel very well. I’d like to lie down.”

“Not yet, Obi-Wan,” he says, between gritted teeth. In the distance, he can make out a mass of emergency responders, all frantically attempting to organise the pandemonium into something civil and orderly. He drags his padawan on.

“M’sleepy,” Obi-Wan protests. And then, as if to prove his claim, his head drops and the full weight of his body swings into Qui-Gon, hinged at his arm where his master supports him still.

Qui-Gon grabs him around the middle, and attempts to prop him up, giving him a little shake. Obi-Wan’s head rolls on his neck, his eyelids fluttering as he fights for consciousness.

“Stay awake,” Qui-Gon urges. Obi-Wan frowns. “Stay awake. Listen to me. Obi-Wan?”

“I’m listening, master…” he insists, but the words come out slurred, and his eyes close again. He slumps forward until his forehead falls against the pommel of Qui-Gon’s shoulder, and his body falls into his master’s arms.

“And yet you disobey me, anyway,” Qui-Gon huffs. He taps at his cheek, trying to make him laugh, or smirk. Anything. “Obi-Wan?” he prods. “Who gave you permission to fall asleep?”

“Mm,” his padawan says.

“Do you remember what I said? About the korarchetropes? You promised to obey me, didn’t you?”

“Yes, master,” Obi-Wan says. His voice is hardly more than a whisper. “You said they talk for hours. M’listening.”

“Then do as I say,” he stresses. “Stay awake.”

He feels him nod against his chest, but his breathing has slowed, and he doesn’t stir himself to reply. Qui-Gon coughs, and begins to speculate.

There is still smoke. Fires burn nearby, hot and stinging. They are not getting any closer to help, and he can feel blood seeping through his tunics. Though Obi-Wan is no longer as slight as he once was, Qui-Gon doesn’t hesitate to sweep him into an embrace, wrapping one leg around his waist, and throwing the boy’s arms around his neck. Like the child he so recently was, Obi-Wan presses close, his head tucking neatly beneath Qui-Gon’s chin, trusting and unresistant to being carried. He has not yet the dignity of adolescence to embarrass him. Nor the consciousness to suggest it. With his padawan held tight, Qui-Gon walks out of the darkness of destruction, and back into the light.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Can I get 8 with thrawn from the touching prompt list? As his love language is literally being a human (chiss) shield

8. shielding the other one with their body

A/N: You know, when you're right you're right. I'm actually going to shift this a bit and set it pre-Empire. Don't know why. Just thought I'd be fun.

The more times you visited Batuu, the more you came to realize, it really was the middle of no where.

You had landed this planet a half dozen times, and on the first day you had seen every inch of the place. By your third visit you might as well had been a native. It was just the small out post, cantina, and little patches of homes scattered over barren forest. Not exactly the place many want to end up, making it perfect for spies, thieves and anyone else looking for extra credits who didn't ask questions.

It was the only reason why you were here, waiting on an alien of a species you had only seen glimpses of, to tell him things that meant nothing to you, but seemed to mean everything to him.

You weren't sure what you thought of Captain Mitth'raw'nuruodo. He was a man of his word. He paid your for your information and was never stingy. Still, there was something about him. You didn't know if you were intimidated or fascinated. Maybe it was a bit of both. Either way, it was always interesting.

You shook your head, focusing back on the cards in your hand. You had a few minutes before he was supposed to meet you. Just enough time to take the Duros in front of you for all he was worth.

"Looks like I win again," you said, laying down your last card.

The Duros stared and sputtered.

"You cheated," he cursed.

"Oh trust me, I don't need to cheat to beat you," you said, pulling the pot your way.

"I want a rematch!"

"Hey Zem, let it go," his companion said.

"No!" Zem exclaimed. "Double or nothing."

"What are you going to use, for money?" you questioned, dryly. "Be grateful I didn't take your ship."

You pocketed the money. Things were getting a little heated in here. You'd wait outside, nice and in the open for the Captain to show his face.

You stood to leave, but froze as you saw the blaster pointed right at you.

"I said," Zem growled. "Rematch."

Your hand fell to the blaster at your side. There were a couple ways you could play this. You hadn't seen Zem shoot, but he already had his blaster up. On the other hand, you were standing, easier to move while he was a sitting target. Or you could sit down and take his ship too, making the probability of him just shooting you a guarantee.

So...decisions.

But before either of you could make a move, a body slid between you.

"Is there a problem here?" a familiar voice asked.

It was as if the whole world had gone silent.

Everyone in the cantina stopped and stared at the Chiss officer standing in their midst.

You had to admit, he was quite the presence. His blue features matched with intense glowing red eyes would make him stand out in a crowd all on its own. But add on a proper uniform and the commanding tone of someone used to giving orders and having them followed, you had to stand up and take notice.

Zem seemed to think so, anyway as the aim of his blaster faltered.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice not as sure as he wanted it to be.

"An interested third party," Thrawn answered, coolly. "Now, I ask again, is there a problem?"

Zem opened his mouth to speak, but his companion got to him first.

"No problem," he said, firmly. "We were just leaving."

He all but pull Zem out of his chair, dragging him out of the cantina. As soon as the door closed, time started once more.

Light chattered filled the room as all eyes turned, leaving your all but alone with Thrawn.

"Cheating?" Thrawn asked, in an unamused tone.

"Why does everyone just assume?" you said, sardonically.

He raised an eyebrow.

"If I'm going to cheat, it would be for a bigger pay out than this," you said, holding up the small bundle of credits. "I had it handled by the way."

"I have no doubt about that," Thrawn said. "However, I find it best to conduct business without dead bodies in near vicinity."

Your lips twisted up in a sideways smile. "Fair enough." You indicated the now vacant seat. "Shall we?"

[storiesbymads]

THIS BIKINI’S MADE FORE DANCING (AND HITTING THE FLOOR)³ ( sun kissed desires . )

Y/N finds herself on the lovers cruise she was supposed to be on with her fiancé—ex-fiancé—when she meets a single man in the suite right next to hers.

warnings: smut

add yourself to the taglist + series masterlist

Your morning ventures ended with probably the best mid morning nap you’d ever had in your life. You woke up without a headache, thankfully, and with the way you’d guzzled the water bottle on your nightstand before you’d crashed out, you felt halfway ready to take on the world.

You dug through your duffel bag in an attempt to find one of the twelve bathing suits you’d packed three days ago. Hopefully you’d packed your cute ones, you’d been in such a rush you honestly had no idea what all was in your bag or if anything really matched. Finally, you found a black set at the bottom that was simple enough that it wouldn’t require too many of your brain cells to put on, still being kinda sleepy and everything.

Finding your way to the pool was easy, considering it was in the dead center of the boat. You were surprised to see the number of kids sitting around the edge of the pool when you got down there, feet dangling in the chlorine filled liquid. You glanced down at the phone in your hand to see the time. 12:08. Adult Swim.

You crossed the short expanse of wooden walkway over to the lounge chairs, dropping your few belongings onto the small table beside the single free one you could find before covering your phone and key card with the towel you’d just barely remembered to bring down so the sun wouldn’t wreak too much havoc on them. The chair was surprisingly more comfortable than it looked when you situated yourself on it.

The sound of a whistle sent your head snapping in the direction of the pool only to see a few dozen kids jumping into the water as the few adults scrambled to get out in time.

And, of course, your eyes found Sidney’s in record time. God, how could one man be so pretty? The fact that he was practically dripping wet didn’t help, either.

He had a pair of teal swim trunks on, oddly enough, and they seemed to cling to everything as he climbed out of the water. To you, it felt like he was moving in slow motion, but it probably only took him about thirty seconds before he was walking in your direction. No. Right. To. You.

He shook his head slightly as he did so, attempting to conceal the grin making its way onto his face. God, he’s cute, too.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, louder than the other times you’d spoken with him—you gave that up to the fact that you were outside. He’d still yet to adjust his swim trunks and the tent in them seemed to be staring you right in the eyes.

“Hey, you’re the one that came up to me,” you scoffed dismissively. Sidney just cleared his throat in response, nodding toward his belongings in the seat next to yours. The only thing separating his belongings from yours was the tiny metal table, and even that was covered in your personal items. “Oh.”

“Oh,” he mocked lightly. He opted to sit on the edge of your chair rather than take the last two steps towards his own, the warm skin of his thigh brushing against your own. The barely there touch sent tingles up your spine. You couldn’t imagine what having all of him pressed up against you would feel like.

He picked his hand up off the plastic of the chair, hesitating slightly and letting it rest in the air above your leg for a second too long, before letting his rough fingers meet the smooth skin.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started. “About your offer earlier.”

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as his hand trailed higher up your thigh, dangerously close to the flimsy bow holding the fabric together.

“M-my offer?” you stuttered out.

“Are you sober...” he trailed off, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He was fiddling with the nylon string at this point.

“Y/N,” you hummed out a response. “And, yes. Took a nap and everything.”

“Good,” he said before abruptly getting up so that he could collect his things from his own chair. Your skin felt cold without his touch despite the scalding heat you were being exposed to. He turned back around as he shoved his phone into his still damp pocket, “C’mon, pretty girl. We don’t have all day.”

You practically jumped up from your seat to grab your things, in spite of a chuckling Sidney behind you.

The walk to the lobby happened in what felt like half a second and before you knew it, Sidney had you pressed up against the outside of his room door. Maybe being on the first floor wasn’t such a bad thing.

His hips were pressing into yours, his fingers were bruising against your waist, and his lips. They were everywhere. You don’t even remember when he’d started kissing you, you just know you didn’t ever want him to stop.

He pulled away just enough to leave you panting and chasing his lips.

“I gotta open the door,” he whispered, lips grazing yours as he did so. The door clicked seconds later which allowed the two of you to slip inside only for Sidney to halfway shove your against the other side of the door the second it closed. Your palms fell flat against his exposed chest, slipping lower and lower as the moments passed until you were thumbing the hemline of his shorts.

“Please,” you whimpered out.

“Please, what?” he asked.

“Just. Please,” you answered. His hand found the tie to your top in a matter of seconds, undoing it slowly before repeating the process with the one around your neck and letting it fall to the floor between you.

His lips attached to the column of your throat as his fingers traced the edges of your bottoms. His mouth moved lower and lower until he was circling your left nipple with his tongue.

Stopping suddenly, he rose back up to his full height, motioning for you to jump with two taps on your hip as he lifted it to his waist. He carried you across the short expanse of his room, dropping you on the recently made up comforter of his bed.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” he mumbled before reattaching his lips to yours. He tasted like heaven. There was a faint mint flavor that you chalked up to being his toothpaste mixed with the distinct taste of Minute Maid lemonade and a sweet tea brand you couldn’t identify.

His clothes cock rutted against your core, sending flickers of the sight of him getting out of the pool glittering through your mind again. Those swim trunks left nothing to the imagination.

He shifted lower over your body, tugging your bikini bottoms down in one swift motion and quite literally tossing them over his shoulder.

“Look at you,” he praised. “So pretty and pink and wet for me. You’re dripping all over my sheets, pretty girl.”

One of his digits slipped between your folds, spreading the wetness around as he circled your clit with the pad of his finger.

“I think you’re a little-“ you cut yourself off with a moan when he slipped the finger inside you. “Overdressed.”

“Patience,” he said, inserting another finger into your hole. He curled his fingers in a scissoring motion, eliciting a high pitched gasp to fall from your lips. His thumb quickly found your clit which sent your eyes rolling straight into the back of your head.

“Oh my God,” you whimpered.

“Look at me,” he said. You ignored his comment, head hitting the pillow underneath you only for his movements to stop. “Look at me.”

Your eyes snapped back open.

“I want to see your eyes when you come on my cock,” he said, pulling his fingers from you so that he could shove the teal shorts down his legs just enough for his dick to slap against his stomach.

He grabbed a condom out of his wallet on the nightstand, ripping the packaging open with his teeth before rolling it down the length of his dick.

“Fuck me,” you groaned out as he lined his tip up with your entrance.

“I was planning on it,” he exhaled. He didn’t even give you a second to respond before he pushed in halfway.

“Holy fuck, you’re huge,” you said, unintentionally clenching around him. He shuddered before fully bottoming out.

“And you’re incredibly tight,” he said. It didn’t take him long to find his pace as his hands molded bruises into the sides of your hips.

His lips found your neck soon after, running his teeth lightly along the top of your collarbone as your hands found his hair. You would’ve commented on the softness of it if you had a coherent thought in your head. But all you could think about was the burning pleasure building in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum-“ you repeated like a mantra until your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave.

“I’m right behind you,” he said, hips snapping into yours at an even faster rate. He lasted about two more thrusts before you felt him still inside you. He stayed there for a moment before he pulled out and made his way to the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

The thoughts started rushing into your head before the post-orgasm bliss even had the time to fully wear off. You couldn’t believe you’d just done that. Sure, he was gorgeous and, sure, he was practically the most gorgeous man you’d ever laid eyes on. But you were gonna be stuck living next door to him for the next two weeks.

You were already off the bed and grabbing your things from where they’d been dropped at the door—something you didn’t remember doing in the first place—when you heard Sidney turn the shower on. You had your bikini back on before his eyes hit you again.

“You can join me, if you want,” he said as he watched you scramble around his room from where he was leant up against the ensuite’s door frame.

“As much as I would love to do that, I’ve gotta get going,” you said, throwing open the room door and letting it shut before he could get another word out.

You had other things on your plate, anyway. Current mission: find Sigma. She might not be your best friend in the world, at least, yet, but you needed to tell someone about what just happened.

And judging by the way you’d scrounged what felt like the entire ship at this point—not really, you really only checked like three, very public areas—your mission was proving more impossible than you would’ve liked. Then, when you thought all hope was lost, you remembered the teensy tiny little tidbit of information she’d given you this morning when you were in six mimosas. She was staying in Room 215.

“Y/N! How unexpected,” Sigma said as she opened up her door wide enough to let you in. Her southern charm was seeping through every word and it really was no wonder how she’d already gotten married at 23.

You saw a man laying on the bed, thankfully, fully clothed with a remote control laying on his stomach. You heard a woman’s voice coming from the TV and what sounded like a murder documentary.

Sigma was ushering you out onto her balcony before you had time to really search her and husband’s room any further.

“What’s this surprise visit all about? I thought you’d gotten of me this morning,” she said as the two of you sat in the bolted down, metal chairs out there.

“You know that really hot guy in the room next to mine,” you said.

“No,” she exhaled. Maybe you’d forgotten to mention that this morning. Course, you barely remembered anything you’d mentioned this morning.

“Well,” you started. “There’s a really hot guy in the room right next to mine. And I may or may not have just hooked up with him.”

“You’re kidding!” she gasped.

“I almost wish I was,” you groaned, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“Was it that bad?” she asked with a wince. You looked over at her with a dumbfounded look on your face.

“It was the best sex I’ve had in my life,” you said.

“So, what’s the issue?”

“I don’t know. He’s kinda like my neighbor for right now, and somehow we manage to bump into each other everywhere we go. I just don’t want things to be even more uncomfortable for me on this stupid boat.”

“Honey.”

“I know, I know. It’s dumb,” you sighed. “I’m just not ready to get involved with another guy. Not after what happened with Max,” you said.

“Look, sweetheart. You’re never gonna find someone if you don’t give yourself the chance to open up. And who says this whole thing with your supah hot guy has to go any further than it has. I say if you get the chance, go for it.”

“Get the chance?”

“To have sex again! According to you, it was the best sex, like, ever.”

The next twenty minutes went on like that until Sigma’s husband practically forced her to go back inside and get ready for something. You took that as your cue to leave.

You were glad you’d gone to find her today. As weird as a start that you’d had for your friendship, she was probably one of the easiest people you’d ever had the opportunity of talking to.

The walk back to your room was quick. That was when you realized the only item you currently had in your possession was your phone. And not your key card. You knew you’d had it before the incident with Sidney and you were sure you’d grabbed everything on your way out of Sigma’s room. Which left one option. It was still on Sidney’s floor.

Sighing, you dropped your head in defeat, walking the two steps it took so that you were face to face with the wooden door you were pressed up against over an hour ago. Your hand hovered in the air until you worked up enough courage to actually knock.

“Here for this?” he asked, holding up the white card in one hand after he opened the door just wide enough to see you.

“Yes, thank you,” you said, reaching out to grab it from him only for him to pull it back, inches from your grip.

“You could’ve just gone to the front desk,” he said.

“I-“ you started. “Forgot that was an option.”

“Why are you always wet when we see each other?” you asked with an eye roll as the door swung open.

“Actually, I distinctly remember you being equally as wet when we met earlier,” he said.

“You’re insufferable,” you scoffed.

“And you’re adorable,” he said before actually handing over the key.

“Says the guy that takes hour long showers,” you said.

“I got a little preoccupied.”

“Uh-huh,” you hummed.

“You sure you have to go to your room?” he asked, tantalizingly slow, allowing his words to hang heavy in the air around you as his tongue slipped past his lips. Your eyes stayed glued to the water droplet running down his throat.

“I guess-“

“Well, come on then. Wouldn’t want you getting cold out there, pretty girl,” he said, the hand still holding your key card clasping around your wrist as he pulled you into his chest, and consequently, back into his room.

tags @kiedhara @thefootballfaithful @stuetzlesumlaut @penstxgal1968 @linkingdolans @englishmuffinwritesbooks @mrsvech37 @honeybearbarzal @burningbiatch @hannabritta @monalicia @mymanshawn @butgilinsky @pierreslucdubois @damndunner @klutchnetsov @stampiej @punkharts @heatherawoowoo

[shera-dnd]

DID SOMEONE ASK FOR SOME FUNKY GACHA LESBIANS?

So I had to do this modern au, because I'll be dammed if I have to research even more about this game's lore and setting as I already have

They uh may also be a little OOC. I tried my best here, but there is only so much I can do without actually playing the game

Anyways here are my efforts at helping drown out the hate with some actual attempts at good content

Miko’s day had been long as it usually was. Work was long and stressful, and the constant rainstorm didn’t do much to make things any easier. Still, when you work your dream job, it’s hard to really complain. So instead she took a nice warm shower, made herself a hot cup of tea, and sat down on her couch to enjoy a relaxing night by herself.

Or at the very least that was the plan. She had barely had the chance to sit down when she heard a knock on her door.

Today was a long day indeed. She cursed under her breath, but still got up to get the door just the same. Thankfully she thought to set her cup aside first, because the moment she opened the door she would have dropped it.

Standing in front of her - soaking in the rain - stood a woman with purple eyes and hair, dressed in a nice black suit. Raiden Ei herself.

“Miko…” she called, a dozen emotions raging through her face in an instant, before being shut back behind a wall of politeness, “may I come in?”

Five years.

Five years, and that’s the first thing she says to her. Miko could only stand there, dazed by the sight of the woman she had accepted she’d never see again. Half of her wanting to embrace her right then and there, to hold her with every ounce of yearning she had felt in all those years. But the other half wanted to slam the door shut, and never look at her again.

That pregnant pause seemed to be enough for Ei to awkwardly add, “I can leave if you want me to.” And then, as if summoned by her words, lightning struck in the distance, lighting up the night sky.

“I’m not keeping you out there in the middle of a storm,” she surrendered with a sigh, walking back into the house, “come on in.”

“Thank you,” Ei muttered as she followed her into the living room, making sure to take off her muddy shoes.

And while Miko returned to her tea, Ei just stood there, awkwardly looking around the room. Five years ago this was her home as much as it was Miko’s, but now it was almost alien to her, so close to the place she knew, and yet so different. So she stood there, trying to reconcile the place that was, with what it used to be.

The coffee table had been replaced, along with her old rug. Though the rest of the furniture had stayed the same, it had all been moved around to open space for the stacks of boxes she now had to keep around the house, all of them filled with books ready to be shipped. Leaving only that couch and Miko as an island of familiarity in this new space.

“I see you managed to get into publishing,” Ei commented, gesturing towards one of the stacks. She sounded so polite and stiff, so unlike the Ei she knew.

“I did,” she answered, sipping her tea, “I had a bit of a rough start, but things are going well now.”

“That’s good to hear,” Ei replied, in the same controlled tone, and they were once again plunged into tense silence.

This time it was Miko who broke it.

“You should get out of those clothes,” she said, and Ei nearly jumped in surprise both at the content of the comment, and at the silence being broken at all, “they’re soaked. You’re gonna get sick like this,” she clarified. “Get out of those and go take a hot shower. I think I still have some of your old clothes.”

There was something in Ei’s face, a crack in that polite mask, when she heard those words. A glimmer in her eyes that looked almost like hope, before it was once again snuffed out as Ei gave her a simple nod and replied, “good idea.”

Miko sighed as she watched Ei disappear into the bathroom.

What a turn this night took. It was best not to dwell on it though, she should probably go look for some of those clothes. Not like it took much searching, she already knew where they were after all. Inside that one forgotten box at the bottom of her closet.

At first she kept her things as a sign of hope, that someday Ei would come back to her and everything would be okay. Then she kept them because throwing them away would feel akin to admitting her Ei was gone forever, and she would never see her again. Then after years she kept them because it was easier than throwing them out, and easier still to keep them in a box, than to look at them every day.

She took a hoodie out of the box and gave it a sniff. It looked like keeping them in the box also made it easier for the clothes to get moldy. So much for that plan, it seemed. She would have to lend Ei some of her clothes, again.

It was almost nostalgic.

With some loose pajamas set aside for her guest, she went about hanging those soggy clothes to dry, and tossing the moldy ones in the washer. Before finally returning to her now cold tea.

“I thought you said you still had my clothes,” Ei asked as she walked out of the bathroom, dressed up in all pink. Miko could swear she heard a fraction of disappointment.

“They’re in no condition to wear,” she answered with a wave of her hand, “I put them in the washer, so you can take them home tomorrow.”

“Right, of course,” there the cracks showed again. No matter how stiffly diplomatic she tried to act, there was still a deep sadness in her eyes. It hurt her to watch, but it hurt less than that impassive mask.

She simply couldn’t leave her like that. “So make yourself comfortable, because I’m not letting you leave until that storm dies out.”

And just like that Ei perked up, a little light of hope showing in her eyes. It was so sweet, something she dearly missed in all those long years. So she sat by Miko’s side, silent, but no longer holding herself awkwardly like before.

“At least the power hasn’t gone out this time,” Ei commented, a hint of a smile showing in her face.

It was their first date. They had been caught in a storm just like this one, both arriving sopping wet at Miko’s place. After some simply endearing awkwardness from Ei, they both managed to shower and change into some of Miko’s clothes. They had barely sat down on the couch and huddled under some covers when the power went out. They ended up falling asleep like that, holding each other in the dark as the storm raged on through the night. A little safe haven for each other.

Miko had joked that Ei must be some sort of storm spirit, orchestrating that entire night just so she would get to cuddle up with her.

“Don’t jinx it,” Miko replied, playfully, “there’s plenty of time for things to go wrong.”

And Ei laughed, a genuine sweet laugh. How she missed that sound. “Well, I think there’s plenty of time for things to go right too.”

“Raiden Ei, was that optimism I just heard?” Miko replied, gasping in fake shock, “time really has changed you.”

She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. In an instant Ei shut herself away again, any sign of her laughter and joy completely hidden once again.

It was as infuriating as it was concerning.

“Miko,” Ei spoke, tone even, “we need to talk.”

And there it was, the yawning abyss that had formed between them now brought into view, swallowing everything else in sight.

“When I left… when Makoto…” Ei tried, but her words kept failing her, the speech she no doubt spent days preparing now completely falling apart, “I’m sorry. I should have called you, or texted you, or anything. I shouldn’t have made you worry. I should have told you I was fine.”

There was a pause as Miko wrestled with her feelings. Anger, sadness, and yearning, all mixing in the turmoil of her heart.

“You’re right. You should have,” Miko agreed, her voice strained, “and you had five years to fix that, but you didn’t.”

Ei flinched and shrunk, “Miko, I thought… I thought once I was done grieving I’d be able to come back to you, but… but I couldn’t. I couldn’t because I’ll never be done.”

“And it took you five years to realize this?” She asked, voice far less kind than she would have wanted, “What will you do now, Ei? Spend your whole life doing nothing but mourn? That’s no way to live.”

“I know,” Ei answered, blinking away the tears that had begun to form, “that’s why I’m here. Because it took me five years to understand I still had a life to live. A life I had promised to live with you.”

It would be so easy. Just pull her into her arms, pretend nothing happened, and let their lives go back to what they were.

But that wouldn’t be right. That would be living a lie.

“Ei,” Miko called, barely more than a whisper, “you’re not the same woman I fell in love with all those years ago.”

Her resolve cracked, tears openly streaming down her pained face. Slowly, Miko pulled her close, cupped her face, and brushed away those tears.

“But,” she traced a finger under Ei's chin before she leaned in, and pressed a kiss to her cheek, “you're someone I'd happily fall in love with all over again.”

And Ei cried again, though now they flowed with that joy and hope she had been guarding so close to her chest this entire time. Swept in her emotion, she pulled Miko into a hug and held her tight.

Miko hugged her back, and in this intimate moment they shared together, she whispered, “the power didn’t even have to go out this time.”

That little choked laugh was all she needed to hear to know that everything would be okay. That she could love her again.

[yoditorian]

friends?

poe dameron/reader 

happy birthday to the wonderfully talented, glorious, beautiful @brothersdrxke

thank you for being my enabler, for allowing me to pester u with my every thought, for creating characters and stories that we love so dearly, and most of all for being my friend, this is yours💛

word count: 989 // warnings: i think like 1-2 swears, pINING, leia knows what’s up, they’re idiots your honour

masterlist

“I need you to meet me at mechanic bay 36, tell no one. And bring a tool trolley?”

You almost want to say no. You want to laugh through the comm and tell him that no, actually, you’re not spending your only evening off in god knows how long doing something you can already tell you definitely shouldn’t be. You’re not stealing a mechanic trolley for him either. Except that you’ve already hummed your agreement into the little microphone and pulled your jacket on. Fuck.

Snagging a tool trolley is easy enough, a dozen sit unclaimed along the wall of the hangar, and you’re so close to making it to the mech bays unnoticed before a voice calls out.

“I don’t suppose you know where my commander is do you?” Leia’s tone is unhurried, like she already knows exactly where he is. She probably does.

“Haven’t, uh- I haven’t heard from him, but I’ll keep an ear out, General.” You exhale heavily, trying your best to seem just as cool and collected as she is. You’re half convinced you’ve gotten away with it when she starts to turn away, only to cringe a little when she calls back to you over her shoulder.

“Just make sure you get that trolley back when you’re finished not doing whatever it is you and Poe are up to.”

You’re not quite sure what to expect when you round the corner to bay thirty six, dragging the trolley behind you, but it’s definitely not a half-gutted BB unit with an odd paint job up on the bench while Poe swears at a soldering iron.

“I thought you were going for parts?” You startle him into burning himself again, but the smile that lights up his face makes you wonder if he even notices.

“And just leave him in a junkyard? You know me better than that.” Poe squeezes your shoulder as you switch places so he can dig through the trolley. You take his spot by the soldering iron, while he’s pretty decent at general mechanics, wiring has never really been his forte. There’s chips and scratches in every circuit board that he’s pulled out of the droid and, although you don’t want to admit it, you’re not sure exactly how much you can do to get the little guy up and running. Or rolling, for that matter.

Even so, the hopeful look Poe shoots you over the domed head of his new friend melts any kind of rebuttal you might have been planning. He’s always been able to do that to you.

“The battery’s charged though, I don’t know why he’s not waking up.” Poe sighs, leaning forward against the worktop. You’ve spent all night meticulously rewiring and cleaning and replacing parts of the BB unit, your fingertips are numb from soldering burns, but the droid still sits motionless on the table. Blank eye staring out straight ahead.

“We could hook him up to 3-PO, give him a little jump.” You suggest, although the idea of dealing with C3-PO at this time in the morning isn’t the most appealing. The withering look you get from across the worktop confirms as much. Instead, you hop up onto the table and turn the droid to face you. Poe leans forward a little more, his temple resting on your right shoulder, and you silently watch the unit for a few minutes.

Nothing.

“He probably just needs some time. The software upload worked, so he’s functional at least.” Your last few words are lost in a yawn, but Poe gets the message. It’s late. You’re both exhausted. And he’d deprived you of your first evening off for months with some vague excuse to hang out with you. Because he’s too fucking nervous to say anything. Idiot.

A quiet little beep breaks him out of his reverie, the droid’s internal mechanics whirring softly, and you look at him like you can’t quite believe it as he lifts his head from your shoulder. It’s working. 

The droid’s head moves slowly, sluggishly, as the programming starts to kick in, and he almost rolls right off the table. You both shoot your hands out to steady it, breathless laughter catching in your throat when you realise just how close Poe’s face is to yours.

“Hi there.” You introduce yourself and Poe when the BB unit focuses its eye on you, it’s movements are a little jerky, a little unrefined. But it suits him.

You- It takes him a moment to find his voice, You are friends?

There’s an odd hesitancy about the way the beeps sound, unlike other droids you’ve fixed up in the past. This one seems almost childlike, physically and verbally, but it’s endearing. You find yourself leaning a little further into Poe and wondering what exactly his new friend went through to get here.

“Yeah, we’re friends. You know, if you wanted to, I could use a little help with my ship.” Poe says with a smile, in much the same way he might if he were trying to get a kid excited about something boring.

I know about ships! He’s excited, beeping out a cheerful sort of chirp that makes you laugh, I know about all kinds of ships! I can help!

He tells you his name is BB-8, like he’s sharing a secret, and a warmth spreads through your chest as you suppress another yawn. Something tells you this particular droid might be trouble, but you can’t claim you’re not used to that. Poe tugs you off of the workbench with a look, his Commander Dameron look, and you know he’s right. You really should get some sleep. So you bid BB-8 goodnight with a promise to visit in the morning, and press a kiss to Poe’s cheek before you can think too much about it. They watch you leave, dragging the tool trolley dutifully behind you.

It’s not dark anymore.

“No, buddy, it’s not.” 

-

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@brothersdrxke @keeper0fthestars​ @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles​ @1800-fight-me​