#and maybe because i drew this because i am also cold but due to the red moon about to rise once more

[lizzysthscshipsblog]

"Feeling warm in there, 'Enry?

Well maybe we can sneak to the top of the Airship and both warm up for a bit."

[flavorcountry]

I got a cold and watched that Jenny Nicholson video about the Star Wars hotel (it's very good) and fully lost my mind: even after experiencing a comprehensive four-hour deconstruction of why it didn't work for Star Wars, I still think a version of this would absolutely work for Star Trek. Take my hand and walk with me on my journey into madness, where I have infinite money, talent, and team to make it all happen!!

Overall vibe

If you want to make a hotel/resort experience that takes place inside a fake spaceship, I still think Star Trek is the way to go: so much of Star Trek takes place on ships, and we've seen the rooms are pretty nice!! Like the Star Wars one, my Star Trek hotel is also a simulated starship, but with better rooms and more fun stuff to do.

Are you ready for this shit

Can you tell I drew this myself

You'll arrive at Farpoint Station,* where the concierge checks you in and your luggage gets whisked away by station staff. Gift shop's also here. When you're checked in and ready to head to your room, you're brought to one of several transporter rooms. If you never went to the Star Trek Experience at the Vegas Hilton when it was active, I am truly sorry for you, because they had a ride whose boarding process included getting beamed away: you and your pals were herded into a zone where you were clearly meant to board a run-of-the-mill 20th-century simulator ride, and then there were jets of mist and a sound and suddenly you were in a transporter room on board the goddamn USS Enterprise NCC-1701-D. It was fucking magical and I never, ever want it explained to me. Anyway, that's what happens to you at my Star Trek hotel: you step onto a transporter pad and get beamed from Farpoint to a Galaxy-class Federation starship. Exit the transporter room and walk down the ship's corridor to take the turbolifts to Cargo Bay 1, where a "temporary muster point" has been set up (this is where the guest services desks will be), or just follow the lit-up companel signs to your cabin. Yes, it will look like guest quarters aboard the Enterprise-D, more or less — maybe a little smaller — but it'll have the carpet, the plant, the glass coffee table, and most importantly a window that looks out into space.

Or!!! If you booked the resort, keep heading down the hallway and take another turbolift to a different section of the ship where the holodeck entrances are. The holodecks, naturally, are running a Risa program, so you walk through the doors and under the arch and suddenly you're outdoors looking at a beautiful landscape with a pool and whatnot, plus the resort accommodations where the more conventional fancy rooms are, and also the restaurants and entertainment venues, all themed. There's a Quark's. There's a Klingon bar and grill. A Bolian salon/spa. Talaxian arcade?? Nausicaan axe-throwing pit?!?! Come on!!!!!!!!!

Here, have a floor plan

Key learnings

Two things stuck out to me that the Star Wars hotel fucked up that I think the Star Trek version can do better:

🤷‍♀️ LARP too complicated: Give 'em credit where it's due, the Star Wars hotel fucking swung for the fences trying to make a multi-hero story guests could integrate with, but it just didn't work. Technical failures! Possible conceptual flaws! Too much stuff packed into the schedule!

The fix: Just make it mostly a hotel most of the time. One or two weekends a month, there's a two-day fully-immersive LARP adventure that people explicitly book separately, and it's more expensive (more on that later). But at all times, hotel staff will be in uniform with division colors that make sense: concierge and guest relations in red, support and janitorial in gold, teal for any medical personnel. I think that means the people working in food services have to wear that plaid/vest combo the Ten-Forward staff have on, but there are certainly worse outfits.

🌴 No resort: The food at the Star Wars hotel was good, but there was no pool and no other luxury resort type stuff to do. It didn't sound relaxing.

The fix: Putting an actual resort in the Star Trek hotel under the guise of a permanently-running Risan holodeck program. The sheer elegance of it!! When the weather is bad, hotel staff in gold uniforms can make apologetic comments about how the sim's malfunctioning.

Roleplay though

People are going to want to stay onboard the ship. That's good! The thing about the ship cabins is you can build them in maybe two semicircular layers (the rooms will need to be curved because these are quarters onboard the saucer section, naturally) and just bury them underground. They don't need real windows — you're putting screens in that'll show a space view, especially when the ship goes to warp and you can see those rainbow trails. Inside the semicircle there's a lot of space where you can put the other, bigger sets: the bridge, main engineering, Ten-Forward, etc. None of those have real windows either, and also I don't think it matters where you put them physically: just stick a pretend turbolift in front of all the entrances and make guests take those whenever they need to go there! One thing we're also doing is putting little hidden speakers everywhere that put out a small amount of shipboard white noise; it may not even be noticeable on a conscious level, but it'll be there and it'll be soothing. This speaker network is also a great way to make an actual announcement if there's a real park emergency.

During most of the month, I think the bridge and main engineering are mostly just photo ops — maybe you have to book a timeslot? Just so you're guaranteed some time with just you and your buddies? But I also think there should be opportunities for what I'm going to call mini-LARPing: you and your pals can book an hour-long session and the staff trains and then runs you through a short scenario. If you've ever played Artemis or the actual Star Trek VR bridge crew game they put out a while ago, you know where I'm going with this: for however long, you and your friends are now the crew of a genuine-ass Federation starship trying to survive a battle! It's fuckin' Kobayashi Maru time, motherfuckers!! Everyone gets their own station! Lights flicker! Mist shoots out of stuff! The whole bridge shakes! There might be a warp core problem — better call down to main engineering! Whoever's down there gets escape room-style minigames and puzzles to work out and help their shipmates. At some point — and this will happen in every run of every scenario — there'll be a very mist-forward "coolant leak" near the warp core that forces whoever's in the room to duck and roll beneath a descending garage-style blast door before heading up to the bridge to activate their station up there; bonus points if the player can work in a "We lost a lot of good people down there, Captain." Maybe there's an actor in makeup who menaces the crew on the main viewer from time to time (pick beforehand from a list of villains! want to fight Klingons? Romulans? a rogue Borg tactical sphere? etc). Can you see it? I can see it, and it fucking rules.

I must at this point mention that in my world, you can buy an add-on where a camera crew joins you, and they cut up the footage afterward to make you and your pals your very own mini-episode. Yes the editing and post-production are expensive and time-consuming; I'm creating jobs here!!!! Maybe …… okay, hear me out: there's an array of hidden fixed cameras and microphones built discreetly into the set, and also players are issued a combadge with an individual RFID tracker that pings the cams and mics, so they only save footage when a player comes close. After the players are done, a machine algorithm uses the data gathered to assemble a rough timeline of each player's material and create a draft movie that a human editor can pick up and fine-tune. Yeah?? When you check out, you get handed a USB drive that looks like an isolinear chip with your mini movie on it, and maybe another one with all the raw footage just in case you're feeling ambitious!!!!

For one or two other weekends during every month, there's a heavily advertised, much more involved, and way spendier LARP for people who really want to get into it. It takes place over two days. There are lots more actors portraying characters necessary for the plot/gameplay. Don't bother packing for the daytime: all players are issued a uniform they get to keep afterward. Do I have any details on the scenario or RP? I do not. But I fully believe it's possible to construct something you could run over the course of a weekend that would keep a hundred paying guests occupied, amused, and delighted, provided you have a truly ridiculous amount of money and people, which I do because this is utter fantasyland.

Also it probably won't cost six grand. Probably??

Let's gooooooooooooo

The rest of the time — and I cannot stress this enough — the Star Trek hotel is just a very heavily and specifically themed all-inclusive resort that has nice, fancy rooms and luxury amenities plus bookable ship cabins and opportunities for photo shoots or quick one-shot roleplay adventures for the real heads. You don't ever have to enter those latter parts if you don't want to! You can just hang out at the resort and have fun with all the themed entertainment, which I must stress is going to be both in-universe plausible and great, with something for everybody. Yes, there'll be a daycare, and yes, Flotter will be there in some capacity to entertain the kids. The food hall is my favorite part by far; I could pitch you Trek restaurant concepts all day. Romulan gourmet soup stand. Gummi candy store staffed by Ferengi where all the offerings are shaped like alien bugs. A vending machine where you can get a jumja stick or a three-pack of those nutrient pucks Picard and his new friends kept getting in "Allegiance." There will be an entire plant-based food vendor with a wide variety of delicious options for all meals, and it will be run by Vulcans.

A word on the gift shop

Question for you: have you ever watched a Star Trek show and seen a Starfleet officer pull on a jacket or shoulder a duffel bag that had the words "STAR TREK" on it? If so, then friend, I want to know where you get your hallucinogens because I want to experience this exactly once. All of the gift shops on my hotel grounds sell responsibly sourced, highly thought-out, well-made items that would be in-world plausible and have no obvious branding. Of course you can get a hand-carved horga'hn, but let's go bigger. Why not a light-up Tox Uthat for your nightstand? Ressikan flute for you, queen? How about a whole-ass knife store that's nothing but various kinds of Klingon cutlery? There will absolutely be an entire tailor's shop whose whole job is to put you in the Starfleet uniform of your choice; there may or may not be a Cardassian managing the place who's got a 50/50 cheerful/menacing vibe going on. There'll be not one but two stores that sell little models of ships: the regular ones and the gold ones. Don't tell me you can't picture it!!!!!

I think that's about it

Thank you for coming along with me on this bespoke journey into 100% insanity; now can somebody put me in touch with the Star Trek licensing people and also give me a billion dollars to build all this? Okay, thanks a lot!!

For timeline purposes and because it's fun, I'm positing a version of Farpoint that got built after the events of the TNG premiere where the Denebians got their act together and just built a normal surface base without suborning an interstellar lifeform.

[theatrelove3000]

You’re On Your Own, Kid

This is the first Obi-Wan fic I have posted, let alone let someone other than two close friends read. It took me three months of no time, energy, or inspiration to finish this, but it’s finally done, and I am actually really proud of it. I am thinking about expanding this, depending on the time I have and the inspiration as it comes. Let me know if you like this and want to see more!

Sith! Obi-Wan x former padawan reader

Warnings: I suck at warnings. Uhhh, dark side, mentions of death, maybe manipulation, kissing but only a little, canon violence (dude gets an arm cut off), lightsabers, Sith! Obi. I think that is it. The reader was his padawan but they didn’t start training together until she was already an adult. The reader wears a dress but I don’t think I used pronouns?  Lmk if I missed anything else.

Summary: When your master suddenly falls into the darkness, you are left alone to be subject to the watchful, judging, mistrusting eyes of the Jedi Council. It’s one thing to lose a master, you’ve lost one before Obi. It’s something else to lose the man you love. Especially when you can still hear his whispers. 

Inspired by Taylor Swift’s You’re On Your Own, Kid! Recommend listening while reading this

Three months, two weeks, and six days.

That's how long it's been since you last saw Obi Wan. He'd go on missions that could be that long, or longer, but this time stretch was harder because you know he isn't coming back. Obi Wan is gone. He left the order. He abandoned you. 

At least, that's what you keep telling yourself.

You try to stay upset and hurt about it but it's becoming more difficult by the day. Watching your master walk away from the only home and family he ever knew was a major shock to everyone. He always preached about how the Jedi Order was good, right, and peaceful, yet suddenly, he was gone after causing quite the stir in a council meeting.

He had come back to your shared apartment and marched right over to you, grabbed you by your elbow and drew you into his chest. He was always more physically affectionate with you but this was something different. Something unsettling. He had wrapped you in a tight hug, breathing in the scent of you before dropping his head and whispering one thing in your ear. 

"My chains are broken. The force has freed me."

And then he was gone.

It was explained to you later that your master had fallen and you were to be reassigned to complete your training. You had been set to take your trials for your knighthood in a few weeks but due to Obi Wan's sudden switch to the dark side, they feared you harbored the same beliefs he revealed he had to the council. 

Your new master is… for lack of a better word, an ass. She is your third master. Your first one, who had selected you at a young age, died a few years back. Obi Wan decided to complete your training, since you were just three or four years from knighthood, already an adult. This new master is short and cold and uncaring. You had just been through a rapid and difficult transition and she held no compassion in her eyes, only wariness and dislike. She didn't trust you. 

No one did now. All the friends you had no longer speak to you because they fear you are unstable and dangerous. You never showed signs of leaning into the dark side but because Obi Wan fell, you also must be dark. His apprentice. Only Anakin still speaks to you. Occasionally, Master Yoda invites you to meditate with him as well, though you suspect he is doing so to check on your signature. Master Yoda is a kind and gentle soul but he must be wary. You understand. Sort of. 

It isn't until the heat of summer fades and cool winter winds start to blow that you start to hear him.

My darling.

Little dove.

Sweet one.

Angel.

The terms of endearment your master used to call you whisper through your mind, as though he were right behind you. You feel his presence when you're alone and see him in your dreams. You'd thought if you dreamed of him, they'd be nightmares but they aren't. They're sweet dreams. Almost memories but with slight changes.

Mornings after nightmares when you'd wake in his bed wrapped in his embrace, though he lets his hands wander more. Presses kisses to your neck and shoulders. Messing up on purpose during training so he'd have to wrap his arms around you to fix your form but he stands far closer, holding you tightly to his body. 

You knew you loved him before he left but he never showed signs of returning the feeling. It wasn't until he was gone that the signs appeared. For a while, you thought it was just your mind grieving the loss of him. That is, until he comes to you. 

~~~~~

Anakin manages to convince the council that you need to get out of the temple, take on a mission again. He's always been persuasive, though at first the council wasn't inclined to grant his request. Through many meetings and solid evidence that you're not like Obi Wan, they allow it on the condition that he keeps you in his line of sight at all times. He agrees readily and tells you to pack a bag. 

After explaining the mission, he takes you to Padme so she can help you find a dress. You're attending a gala the senate is holding in order to ease tensions, though with the way the galaxy is now it will only raise them. 

That's how you find yourself standing in a big ballroom wearing a long sleeve, floor length dress. Despite the dress still being modest compared to the other women around you, you still feel exposed. Your Jedi robes leave everything up to imagination but this dress does not. It's more form fitting and accentuates certain parts of your body in a very flattering way, while still being conservative.

"My, my. What have we here? Did you lose your way, Little dove?"

The voice makes you freeze. You spin around, looking for the owner but see no one. You shake your head, hoping to rid yourself of the panic and hope that had appeared with the voice.

"Did you stray too far from home? Do you need help finding the path?"

You know his voice better than you know your own. He's here somewhere. You can feel his eyes on you even if you can't see him.

You turn slightly, searching the crowd for Anakin. He's talking with some of the senators, Padme by his side. He's occupied.

You start walking.

Letting yourself out of the ballroom, you wander through the halls of the massive building the gala is being held in. You had seen a terrace when you first arrived and been escorted in. There it is. You open the doors and step out into the cool night air. 

You don't hear him as he follows you or as he shuts the doors to the terrace. You don't hear him take the last few strides necessary to stand behind you, closing the distance between you. The only sign that you were correct is the feeling of his hands on your hips. They're warm and strong and certain, just as they always were.

"My Little Dove." His greeting is whispered into your hair just above your ear.

"Master-"

"I am not your master any more, my darling." He interrupts you, his voice sending goosebumps down your arms. "I am simply a being you meet in your travels as a pawn in a game your side can't win. I am only a man who has missed you very dearly."

You take a deep breath, praying your voice won't shake as you respond, "you wouldn't have had to miss me if you hadn't gone."

The hum he gives in response is deep, seemingly coming from low in his chest. "It was time for me to go. I hope you can understand. Places to be and people to see, you know."

"You left me. You abandoned me like everyone else." 

He tightens his grip on your hips, fingers digging into them. "I did not abandon you. I never left you, Little Dove. I was always there, always watching. It may have been from a distance but you were never alone."

You try to control your emotions, keep your cool, "Your leaving the Order has shown me I have always been on my own. I didn't choose this life, Obi Wan. It was thrust upon me before I was at an age that I could understand it. I don't remember the sound of my mother's voice. I don't know my father's name."

"I didn't choose it either, darling. Very few of us did. To be entirely honest with you, I dreamed of leaving and yet I stayed. Do you know why, my Little Dove?" His fingers are tracing up your sides delicately, never straying into areas he has not gained permission to touch. 

Your voice cracks a bit as you respond, "Why, Obi?"

"I stayed because I needed to be around you. Your presence is my vise, your signature is, simply put, addictive to me. It was inappropriate for me to have the feelings I do for you while you trained under me so I kept them at bay as best I could." His nose grazes your temple as he speaks, the edge of his beard lightly scratching your cheekbone as he speaks, "I didn't do as good a job as I thought. Those around us began questioning our relationship. They said horrible things that I will never allow to reach your innocent ears. I could have killed anyone who ever said anything nasty about you. I still can. All you have to do is ask."

Your breathing falters, though you can't tell if it's from fear or shock or something else. If he catches it, he doesn't say a word. "I don't want that. Murder is still wrong, no matter where you stand politically."

"Ah, but don't you see, my Little Dove? I don't wish to kill for political reasons. I kill for you. Anyone who ever hurt you deserves to go."

"You're frightening me, Master," you whisper shakily. He responds by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back against his chest.

"I do not wish for you to fear me, my love. I only want to protect you, to keep you safe. I can continue to do that from afar as I have been these three months. Or… you could come with me." He keeps his voice low, fingers stroking your sides delicately.

"Where? Where would you take me?"

"Home, Little Dove. I will take you home."

You close your eyes, feeling your resolve beginning to crumble. Suddenly the warmth of your former master against your back is gone. You turn and he's nowhere to be seen. The only sign that you did not imagine it is the phantom feeling of his hands on you. 

"All you have to do is call for me, my Little Dove. I'll come to save you from your golden cage." 

Suddenly you hear your name being called. It takes you a moment to register that it's Anakin's voice. He sounds a little worried. You turn all the way around for the first time since stepping onto the balcony. You use the force to open the doors.

"I'm here, Ani"

His head snaps to face you at your voice and he quickly makes his way over to you, "I've been looking everywhere for you! What the hell are you doing out here?"

"It was a little stuffy in there. I just needed some air. I'm sorry if I worried you. I didn't think I'd be gone long." You let him lead you back inside. Instead of taking you back to the ballroom, he escorts you outside where Padme is waiting.

"It's fine. I'm just glad I didn't lose you. That… would not have looked good on me." He laughs a little, rubbing your shoulder comfortingly, "it's time for us to head out. We're going to be escorting the senator to her suite in the hotel and then going to our room."

"Yes, Master Skywalker," you bow slightly dramatically, tone dripping in sarcasm.

He laughs, rolls his eyes at your playfulness and shoves your shoulder as you start walking, both of you flanking Padme. 

~~~~~

And that's how it began.

You start answering him when he whispers into your mind. You didn't even see him that night but you know it was real. Even if it wasn't, you hope that you continue to hear him. You start feeling him as well. You even catch hints of his scent from time to time. Always when you need him the most.

Those moments became more and more common. The weight of arms around you in those few blissful moments between sleep and wakefulness make you think of him. He whispers encouragement as you train with your new master, even the occasional reminder to help you correct your form or a suggestion to make a motion easier for you. He's still helping to train you. Apparently your four years with him didn't make him sick of teaching you.

It's your next off-world mission that starts to cause your foundation to crumble.

Anakin had convinced Master Windu that he could take you off-world with himself and Ahsoka instead of being with your own master. It was a simple mission. Get into the separatist base, steal the information, get out. 

When is anything ever that simple?

Your cover was blown quickly and it doesn't take long to realize this was a trap. You are separated from Anakin and Ahsoka somewhere in the crossfire between your troops and the battle druids. You find yourself in an empty hallway alone, not even a clone behind you.

Looking around, you move back towards the way you came, only to realize you are more than a little lost in this base. You reach out your signature to find Anakin but are met with a different signature. Another, more familiar one.

Obi Wan.

Before you can take a moment to think it through, you're running towards it. You chase the warm, blue signature you've grown oh so attached to deeper into the base. When you reach a door that you can feel him behind, you pause. Pressing your palm flat against the cool metal, you reach out again. Reaching for him. He responds by tangling his signature with yours, but doesn't open the door. You hear a click and realize it's the lock. He unlocked the door. The door still doesn't open. He's giving you the choice. It almost makes you cry.

He is giving you the option to reach him. He isn't forcing you into anything, simply waiting to see how you decide. The Order never does that. All they do is command and demand and give expectations to meet. It's exhausting. You're tired. You miss him. 

"Obi?" You whisper to the door. As a response, you hear a small thud on the door as he presses his hand to it where yours is. You can feel the pressure of his power through the door. He whispers your name back to you.

"I'm frightened," you feel your eyes start to water, voice breaking softly, "I just want you."

"I know, my darling. It's alright if you are not ready yet. I'll wait for you. I'll wait an eternity for you." His voice is louder than yours, but not by much. You want to open the door but can't bring yourself to do it. He can feel it. You know he can. His signature brushes over yours gently again, soothing you. He was always good at that.

"I have to go, Master. I'm sorry. I need to find Anakin." 

"It's alright, Little Dove. I'll be with you. Always."

You nod and take another moment of weakness before pulling away and running the way you came. It takes you twenty minutes to find Anakin and Ahsoka again. As you reappear, Ahsoka crashes into you, hugging you tight.

"Are you okay!? Your comms weren't working. We've been calling you and sent troops to find you but we couldn't! What happened? Where did you go?"

You push Ahsoka back to look her into her eyes, holding her shoulders. "It's okay. I'm fine. I got lost in the hallways. The droids were coming from that way so I handled it. I just got confused on my way back to you. All the halls look so similar."

You try cracking a joke as you notice Anakin watching you cautiously. He knows something. Looking over, you cast what you hope is a charming smile in his direction. He nods and gives a small smile in return but still looks concerned, though you can't tell if it's for you or because of you. 

When you return to the Temple, the council convenes to be briefed on the mission. Anakin credits you with destroying a majority of the Droid squadron within the base. The council seems to be a mixture of impressed and put off by this news. You're not surprised.

You feel nothing for them anymore. They don't do anything but cause more problems for you and those around you. Most Jedi would say the most dangerous feeling to have is hatred. Some say anger. Others will tell you that hope is the worst thing to feel, especially in this war.

No. The most dangerous thing a Jedi can feel is indifference. Indifference causes one to not have loyalty to those they have been sworn to. With anger or hatred or even hope, it shows one still feels attached to something. With indifference, it is not so.

Your indifference is what Obi Wan was waiting for. 

~~~~~

The next mission you are sent on is the one that sends you over the edge. 

It's another gala you are to attend, this time undercover as a senator's aid. The moment you arrive, you reach out for Obi Wan. You search the room with your eyes and your signature, praying to the Maker that he is there.

As the evening progresses, you stop looking for him. You become distracted by doing your job, working the crowd and getting more information you've been sent to collect. Though the council has seemed to develop more trust in you over the last couple of months, they don't trust you entirely. You have another Jedi with you to keep an eye on you. You don't remember his name, and it doesn't particularly matter to you anyway. He's just a security measure to protect the Order. 

"Pardon me for interrupting, Senator Gunray. I was hoping I might ask this lovely young lady for this dance." His voice drips across your ears like bacta over a burn. Your posture relaxes as the senator you were speaking with bows out gracefully, promising to speak with you again later.

You turn and finally see the man you've dreamt of for five whole months, though if you're honest, it's been longer than that. He looks dashing in his white suit and cape. As your eyes trail up from his chest, you catch the hairs of his auburn beard lift as he smiles at you. You see that smile next, the shining and slightly arrogant one you grew used to throughout your few years of training with him.

He reserves this smile for you. The one that shows his pride but also a glimmer of praise for you. He softens whenever he sees you, even if it's isn't noticeable to anyone else. It always was to you. He was a good and kind master, but a better friend. In this smile, you see your friend. 

You raise your eyes to meet his and your breath catches. The cerulean ocean you are used to seeing is gone, replaced by molten gold, framed by dark lashes, which seem darker than they used to. Maybe it's just your imagination.

"Remember to breathe, Little Dove. I fear you will pass out if you don't."

You let out a small huff of a laugh as you smile and glance down to your feet. You see him lift his hand to under your chin, raising your eyes back to his. You can see him searching your face for something. He must find it or you are imagining it because he draws away again, offering you his arm to take.

"I believe I offered you a dance, my love. May I have one?"

"Yes, my lord." He leads you out onto the floor. A waltz starts not long after he pulls you into position. As you dance, he keeps you closer to his body than the other partners on the floor. You don't mind, letting yourself melt into his arms for the first time in several months.

Obi Wan was the one who taught you to dance. He had been trying to help you learn to make your movements smoother, more choreographed as you dueled. You kept making jagged, uncoordinated movements that caused you to lose your footing or leave an open spot for someone to strike. Obi had taken your Saber, tossed it and his own to the side, then pulled you in gently. He kept a respectable amount of space between you as he placed your hand on his shoulder and his own on your waist, holding your opposite hand. And he taught you to dance. Slowly, you got the hang of it and he moved back into the forms you were learning. You never lost to him in a duel again.

The dance sessions became almost a regular occurrence. He'd hug you when you were upset and slowly rock you, letting it turn into a silly little dance to make you smile and giggle. He'd kiss your head and twirl you just to make you squeal or blush. Those are his fondest memories of being in the order.

"I have a question for you, Darling."

"I will answer anything you ask of me, Darth Nighte," you respond without hesitation.

He grins widely and lets out a laugh. "You always have, haven't you? My good girl."

You blush slightly and look away from him to hide it. He doesn't like that. He lifts your chin again and raises an eyebrow, warning you not to look away again. 

"Did you pick this gown to get someone's attention?" He says it in a teasing tone but you know what he is asking. Is the dress for him?

The dress you selected for the gala was bought with what little you had saved over the years. You had gone out into the city on one of your rare days off to buy it. It was in the shop window and you'd asked to try it on. It was a long sleeved, dark blue dress with tiny gems to make it appear as though you were a part of the evening sky. It's a bit lower cut in the bust than you thought you'd be comfortable with but seeing the way he admires it, you know it was the right decision.

"I must confess, my lord. I fear I am no longer a good Jedi. You see, I find myself disagreeing with the rules and growing agitated trying to suppress my emotions. It feels like I'm being pulled down a different, new path. I can't stand the rule against attachments. I have found that attachments only make you stronger. Maybe that is what they are afraid of…" you trail off as you realize how much you spoke but he holds your eye contact and nods for you to continue. "I have found myself deeply attached to a lord at this very party and I had hoped he'd find the dress pleasing."

"I'm sure he does, my darling. Do I know this lord, do you think?" He knows. He always does.

You smile and glance around as though making sure no one was listening, "I think you know him very well, my lord." 

"Then I suppose I'll leave you to him." He starts to release you but you grip onto him tighter. He laughs again, a sound you truly and sorely missed.

Together, you and Obi Wan danced for several more songs. You talk occasionally but mostly bask in the comfort you bring each other. As the night dwindles on and draws to a close, you know you have a decision to make. A path to choose.

Obi Wan senses your panic and turmoil. He searches your eyes again before leading you off the dance floor to a little alcove on the side of the ballroom. He presses you back against the wall and lets his body tower over yours. 

"My angel, you do not have to do anything you don't wish to. I don't intend to steal you away and hide you from the galaxy. It is your decision. This is your life. Lead it how you wish to. No matter what you decide, I will always love and support you. Even if I must do so from afar." He leans down and presses his forehead to yours. You can feel the love in his signature. True love. Pure love. How can a feeling so pure be so bad? 

Lifting your chin slightly, you let your nose brush his and hear his quick intake of breath. He leans further into you slowly, giving you time to pull away from him. To say no.

You never will.

He lets his lips brush yours. It's gentle, simple, peaceful. He lets you decide how to proceed. Slowly, your hands move from where you had pressed them to his chest up into his hair to pull him closer. He hums in pleasure and pushes you further into the alcove. He kisses you the way you imagined he would. Gentle but dominant. Kind but leading. Persuasive. The Great Negotiator, indeed.

You pull away first, needing to breathe. He lets you go but keeps his forehead against yours. 

"Obi?" You whisper to him.

"Sweet One?" He responds.

"Am I ready now?"

"That, my dearest little dove, is not a question I can answer for you."

You nod, feeling the tears form. His hand is holding your cheek and jaw on one side. He can feel when they start to fall. He coos gently and pulls you into his chest, whispering reassurances and words of love.

"I don't want you to go again. It hurts when you go, my Obi." You mutter through the tears. Obi Wan pulls away enough to hold your face with both hands.

"I don't have to. You can come with me, Darling. I have a place for us. It's safe and quiet and peaceful. It's perfect. I made sure it's perfect for you. All you have to do is say yes. Little Dove, you can stay with me. Come with me."

His voice isn't commanding or ordering you. It's… begging. He's begging you to stay with him.

Sniffling and wiping your eyes, you look up at his eyes. They're no longer gold the way they were before. They're darker now. Green. Your breathing picks up as you kiss him again. It's a soft, quick kiss. He reciprocates, waiting for your decision.

"Home?" You ask him. He smiles against your lips and nods.

"Home." 

"Obi Wan. Take me home."

The burst of joy in his signature is more than enough to convince you that this was the right decision. He kisses you fiercely before retreating and standing up straight. A lord once again. Offering you his arm, he leads you back into the public eye.

As he escorts you through the front doors of the building and towards the hanger, you are stopped by a voice yelling your name. Your Jedi babysitter. You forgot about him. Obi Wan stiffens as he hears it as well, turning his head just enough to see the man behind you. You try to keep going but Obi Wan has stopped. Your panic is beginning to rise again. You'll never be free.

"You are to return to the Temple with me immediately, Young Padawan. This is not a debate."

"I-" 

"My apologies, Jedi, but I believe she has made her decision." Obi Wan's voice is calm but there is a hint of a threat in it. He's daring the man to oppose him.

"I'm sorry, Senator, but that will not be happening. She has been asked to return to the Temple."

"Senator? Do you hear that, my darling? Senator. The level of disrespect tossed about by the Order is truly insulting. He doesn't even know my name."

You keep your eyes on Obi, pleading with him through your signature to just take you and go. In your bones, you knew it wouldn't be this easy. If only.

Obi Wan turns and the Jedi recognizes him. His eyes, now returned to gold, are a dead giveaway. The Jedi draws his weapon and beckons you over, holding his hand out as he calls your name again. 

"This man is not who you think he is, Padawan. Come with me." He reaches for you again but you take a step back, closer to Obi Wan. 

"Maybe I'm not who you thought I was, Master. Or… I think perhaps I am." Glancing up at Obi, you see him watching you with curiosity and… hope. You haven't seen hope in so long you almost don't recognize it. 

Your Obi nods at you, just once, and takes a step back. The Jedi is gazing at the both of you with confusion and horror as you look at Obi Wan.

"I told you already, Little Dove. This is your decision. No one can make it for you." His voice calms you. There's no malice in it when he directs it at you.

"He's trying to trick you, Padawan. It's time to go now." The Jedi got close enough to grab your wrist and begin to pull you away. The moment he touches you, your lightsaber is in your hand and the Jedi is screaming. You open your eyes and see the man's arm on the ground between you. His lightsaber falls from his other hand and Obi Wan comes to pick it up. You feel your hands shaking as you watch him replace the Jedi's Saber on his belt before reaching a hand out to you. 

"Are you ready now, darling?"

You look between Obi's hand and the man's arm and then at the blood on your gown. You take Obi Wan's hand and leave the Jedi kneeling on the ground of the hanger as you're taken onto your love's ship. He sits you down and pulls off his cape, draping it over you. It's heavier than it looked. He helps to strap you into the co-pilot seat before getting into the pilot seat.

As the ship lifts off, you catch a reflection in the glass of the cockpit window. Your eyes are surrounded by a ring of gold.

You feel Obi Wan take your hand as you reach hyperspace and let him smooth his thumb over your knuckles. You glance up at his beautiful eyes and see they are the blue you missed. You realize something that nearly brings you to tears again. You've been on your own for most of your life, especially when it got hard.

You don't have to be alone anymore. You have your Obi Wan.

~~~~~

@meshlasolus @vi-does-stuff @star-whores-a-new-hoe @turtlelover59 @lowkeyorloki 

[stardustbee]

Stardust made to shine

Flufftober - Fireplace

Darth Maul x fem!Jedi OC Ayane Arinori

Song: AURORA - Heathens

Warnings: bit of sexual tension between those two idiots 😅😚; also Maul is hot

Word count: 3054

Note: This was meant to be finished in ocotber for the prompt fireplace for flufftober...HERE IT IS LOL. I have zero excuses for why it took so long. Only that life is stressful and being and adult sucks. But I am happy with how it can out and I am even brave enough to post it without beta reading 🤭 I really enjoy writing Ayane this way, maybe even a little more then in FMTTM. Pls forgive me if the formatting here and on Ao3 is shitty. I am lazy.

Ao3 • Taglist • Masterlist

Cold wind whipped mercilessly in Ayane's face. Her face was already flushed and it was not because of the Zabrak, far too heavy for her, that she was supporting in her arms. Who would have thought she would meet him right here in such a deserted section of the galaxy. Master Kenobi had sent her on this mission. The Council suspected Separatist activity in this area and had been ordered to check it out. But the fact that it was exactly him she came across was something neither of them expected.

Ayane did what she was asked to do. Or rather, what she had been ordered to do. It was a moon orbiting an ancient, almost forgotten planet that was in a sector of the Outer Rim. Because of this, the Council assumed that the activity they were receiving from there was separatist in nature. The still somewhat clumsy Jedi Knight, not wanting to admit that she had not been a Padawan for a long time anymore, did as she was ordered to do and set off with a droid. Her skills as a pilot weren't enough to allow her to travel alone with a starship.

When her investigations on the planet itself came to nothing, a strangely familiar feeling led her to the very moon on which she now found herself.

She quickly realized that the feeling was her current rival and once lover Darth Maul. "Formerly Darth..." she reminded herself. She heard a loud grunt from the Zabrak she was supporting as those words rolled over her lips. How had they ended up in this predicament?

Quickly Ayane had to learn and realize that weather conditions on the moon were not normal. One minute there was clear, warm sunshine and the next the weather would change. And not only did the weather change rapidly in seconds, no, the flora and fauna also underwent an absolute transformation. Trees lost their leaves as dark clouds closed in and a fierce snowstorm began. Animals rushed into burrows, flowers died within moments and a layer of ice began to cover lakes and rivers.

In the middle of the storm she met the men, who held nothing but rage in his eyes. Both quickly drew their lightsabers and a fight broke out, despite the severe cold that afflicted Ayane. Due to the lack of reports and analyses of the planet and its moon, these weather fluctuations were unknown and the woman had accordingly not been able to prepare herself with special clothing. She only wore her Jedi robes.

Ayane's heart pumped faster, her breathing became uneasy. She tried to think of the exercises and teachings of her Master, but it was easier to think about it then put those thoughts into action.

Most importantly, she didn't have much time when Maul made the first attack, striking with his red blade. Her orange lightsaber, the color of the moon of her home, blocked the Zabrak's strike. Both blades hummed as they struck the other, as if they were crying out because they had hurt themselves. Maul was far more powerful and stronger than Ayane. The snow and ice beneath her feet crunched and cracked as he pressed her into the ground. A diabolical smile ran across his lips and Maul brought to Ayane all the hatred he felt for the Jedi.

Wildly the two fought in the blizzard as the temperature dropped and the former Sith Lord kept spitting insults at her. He was so much stronger and more experienced than her. That Ayane could hold out against him for so long was probably due to the mysterious connection through the Force she shared with him.

And then there was a small moment, just maybe a damn millisecond, when Maul gave her a window of opportunity to counterattack. She used the time she was given and threw a punch of the Force at Maul. She spun her body around once, deactivating her lightsaber as she did so, and when she looked back at Maul, she abruptly extended her arms.

The Zabrak reacted quickly, deflecting the blow with his own control of the Force. Nevertheless, the brute force of Ayanes punch sent him sliding backwards a few feet. His weapon was also deactivated. Again a malicious smile ran across his lips. He took a few steps towards the Jedi.

Ayane braced herself, this fight had gone on too long and she knew she would not win it. But suddenly and unexpectedly, the tide would turn in her favor once again when she heard a crackling sound under the man's artificial feet.

Maul had also noticed the sound, but at that moment it was too late. The thin layer of ice on which he stood hid a lake. The ice gave way and, although Maul tried to get off the lake, he sank into the icy water. Everything happened so suddenly and quickly and Ayane's eyes grew bigger and bigger as she realized what had happened.

His lightsaber slipped from his hand as he tried to hold on and came to rest on the edge of the small hole. Small bubbles rose and the water was choppy. Ayane expected him to resurface any second.

They were long seconds...

Many seconds...

Minutes...

He couldn't get out on his own. His legs...

"You'll regret this..." gave Ayane as she wiped off her Jedi cloak and dropped her sword on it. Quickly she jumped into the water herself. It was so cold that it almost robbed her of consciousness. She swam fast, darkness enveloped her and it was hard to locate the Zabrak. But after a few meters she saw him. His cheeks were puffy and he was holding back what air he had left in his lungs. Maul waved his arms around but absolutely didn't move. His eyes were almost trembling and Ayane could have sworn it was fear she saw there.

And so they had ended up in that very predicament. Ayane had no idea how she managed to pull Maul out of the lake. She just instinctively grabbed him by the waistband of his trousers and put his arm around her shoulder. The Force was strong in her today and supported her in her endeavor.

Ayane was desperately looking for shelter. Anything where she had the possibility to maybe make a fire and where they could both warm and dry themselves. If this continued, they would both freeze to death. She had just saved the life of a man she didn't know how to sort out her feelings about and then she was supposed to freeze to death in the middle of a wasteland called the moon? No, that just couldn't be, she didn't want that. A strong gust of wind hit her again and she almost sank to her knees with Maul.

Despite his own weakness at that moment, he supported Ayane as much as she supported him. Her hand went to his chest to hold herself better. Surprisingly, his skin was warmer than she had expected. Ayane remembered the studies on different species and the altered metabolism of the Zabrak. They recovered more quickly from temperature changes and generally their metabolism worked much faster than that of humans.

It was like a twist of fate when the woman discovered a small, old hut on a hillside. It was made of solid stone and withstood the storm. It must be my imagination. Someone really lived here? Someone built something that looked like a house? Death knocked on the door. This could only be a hallucination, a desperate attempt at her sanity. 

"It's not." gasped Maul a little weakly. "I see it too."

He did it again...

He searched her mind. 

Ayane still couldn't figure out if he was doing it on purpose or if she was naively sharing those thoughts with him every time. Just like she had done back on Midgard. She revealed so much weakness to him. She knew he could wipe her out all at once and yet...

The door was kicked open and Ayane's eyes analyzed the room. It was a rather plainly furnished building. There were many boxes made of wood and steel, neatly organized. It looked as if the building was a warehouse. At the other end of the room, the woman was looking directly at a fireplace. She heaved Maul against a crate near the fireplace. 

It was still so bitterly cold...

She quickly brushed Maul's top off his shoulders. That was the only thing he allowed, because when she tried to remove his gloves, he grabbed her by the wrist and gave her an angry, almost aggressive look. 

"I don't like it either, but you have to get out of those wet clothes," she countered the look immediately. 

"Take care of yourself, Jedi." he hissed through his sharp teeth.

Ayane left it at that. She knew Maul and knew that persuading him was like riding a Rankor. So she placed the two lightsabers in front of the fireplace. She quickly found something to light a fire. As the flames rose up and filled the stock, which it obviously was, with warmth and a cozy light. 

She found a blanket in a corner and wrapped it around Maul. "There is only this one blanket," she said, looking him in the eye. "We have to warm our bodies against each other, otherwise none of us will get out of here alive."

She began to remove her Jedi robes.Then she heard a laugh from the Zabrak's mouth. "Tell it like it is, woman." Maul leaned forward. "You need me to survive. Your human body can't withstand the cold."

"And your mechanical legs would have dragged you to the bottom of the lake if I hadn't been there." She placed her clothes in front of the fire together with Maul's top. Then she sat down next to Maul in her underwear, swung the blanket around her and leant against him a little. Her skin only touched his very lightly. "Don't kid yourself. You need me just as much as I need you right now. I hate to admit it myself. To someone like you..." she stopped herself.

"Keep talking, Jedi. What you have in your head right now just doesn't fit very well with what your master taught. You and the rest of the Jedi are ridiculous beyond compare."

Ayane squinted her eyes a little. The underwear she was still wearing was still soaked from the icy water. "What am I doing that's ridiculous in your eyes?"

"You could have left me behind. You would have defeated one of your order's greatest enemies. Imagine how proud your masters would be." There was hatred in Maul's voice. Yet, Ayane felt a certain pride and...fear.

"But I didn't." She leaned a little more against Maul's muscular arm. Her muscles were tense to protect her from the cold. Despite the dancing fire, her body didn't want to get warm. "I saved you." 

"I am your adversary, an enemy of your order. I am a thorn in the side of your faith. My destruction should be your highest priority."

Ayane straightened up and looked at Maul. He did not return her gaze. "Do you really think that? Do you really think I should kill you?"

"That's the way of things. That's what the Force commands." His eyes now wandered over to the woman. His face was rigid, emotionless. Why should he show anything other than disdain?

"Then do it," Ayane replied quickly. "Why don't you kill me if you think that's the way of things? If you think that's the way of the Force!" Her voice grew louder and she clenched her hands into fists. Ayane tensed her muscles so tightly that the skin on her knuckles turned white and her teeth gritted from the tension she was exerting on her jaw. "Kill me, now!"

Ayane was so angry that she hadn't even realized that she was now standing in front of the Zabrak, the warming blanket only covering his body. She stood in front of the fireplace and could feel the warmth on her back. Still, none of this helped. The flame was too small to be able to fight the merciless cold that seeped through every crack in this leaky building. Just as Ayane was unable to withstand Maul, to resist him. Goosebumps covered her body and soon she was no longer trembling from the cold. It was an unspeakable rage she felt in her heart, unable to admit such feelings.

Ayane's eyes explored Maul's body. She took in every tattoo, which was as black as the endless galaxy. She already knew each one, as they had spent more than enough time together on Midgard. Before she became a Jedi, before Ayane knew what was behind Maul's stay on her home planet. But now she knew more than she ever wanted.

He looked beautiful like this…

Her lips opened, but before she could say anything, Maul was already holding her hand in his. He slid forwards a little, the blanket slipping over his shoulders and revealing his body. His golden eyes bored into hers, his gaze fixed, but not angry or malicious. There was no danger in it. The material of his glove pressed against her skin. Ayane remembered the feeling and the material of his gloves. It was the first thing she felt from Maul. 

Then he did something she hadn't expected. Maul put the hand that had just been resting on hers around her waist, hugged her with the other and gently pressed his head against her stomach. He made sure that none of his horns hurt her. The woman raised her hands, a little startled, and wanted to take a step back, but the Zabrak's firm grip made that impossible. His skin was so warm. "Your path was a mistake. That you became a Jedi...that should never have happened..."

A loud, almost angry snort came from Ayane's nostrils. "What are you doing now? What are you..."

Maul interrupted her and looked up at her. Their eyes met again. "You feel…that is your mistake." Ayane's mouth fell open in horror and shock at what he had just said.

Maul pushed hard against her body and brought her to her knees so that she was now kneeling in front of him. The jerky and brutal movement caused the Jedi to wrap her arms around his neck. Their lips almost met…

His hands bored into her skin, leaving white marks on it. "Why are you still a part of them? I sense that you realize it yourself. That you know what I've said is the truth. Your insecurity, your fear...it fills this room. It trembles under your feet, little Jedi Knight."

The realization hit her like a wild Bantha wandering the plains of Tatooine. He was right. Maul, the enemy she had fought so often, was right. And she didn't like that. She quickly grabbed his face and pulled him closer to hers. Their bodies were tightly entwined. Ayane no longer felt the cold. It had given way to a very familiar heat. "No..." she only whispered.

The Zabrak stared at her. "Admit it."

Ayane shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut as she felt tears welling up. She hastily pressed her lips to those of the man in front of her. She straightened her upper body as best she could. It hurt to feel his naked skin on hers. 

She was weak. She was giving herself over to something she shouldn't and Ayane knew it was inevitable that it would happen. She knew her place was not in the Order and yet...

Maul's hands squeezed the woman close again and he let himself fall backwards. The moment he was on his back, Ayane stopped the kiss and looked at him again.

"Say it." he began in a low and calm voice. "No one will know."

Ayane swallowed hard, not allowing the tears to fall. She dropped her head onto Maul's torso. Her body was tense, almost clinging to the Zabrak. "I..." she began and tried to swallow the words, "...you."

Maul's eyes widened. "Say it. Look at me and tell me how you feel."

She quickly straightened up and sat on his lap. Tears streamed down her face, which was turning red. "I hate you!" she finally shouted at him. "For your arrogance, for always being right! It's because of you that I became a Jedi in the first place! Because you....because you!" she stammered.

"Because I what?" Maul asked, almost amused. His lips curled into a devilish smile.

"Because you didn't come back! Because you left me alone on Midgard! Because you always make me want to break the rules of my order and my master!" her voice broke. She weakened and put her face in her hands. 

"Then join me." That was the only thing Maul said to her. He didn't reassure her, he didn't hug her. He simply allowed the feelings she had held back for so long to escape.

"You know I can't and I won't..." Ayane rubbed her eyes. She placed her hands on the Zabrak's chest. She tried to calm her breathing. 

Maul sat up and hugged Ayane again. "Then at least enjoy this moment." he kissed the corner of her mouth.

"You're not making any sense..." she whispered.

"Neither do the feelings you're giving me. They don't reflect what you just told me." Maul's lips tracing over her cheek to her earlobe.

"We're doing this just so we can draw our swords and fight again tomorrow?"

"Yes..." His hands stroked Ayane's back far too gently.

"Don't use this as a weapon against me..." she said as Maul grabbed her and laid her on her back. His body laid heavily on top of hers. She could feel the cold metal of his legs and she knew that this would become a different experience than the once on Midgard. 

"Never..." he said as he smothered the fire with the Force with a wave of his hand.

They would no longer need the heat of the fire. Their bodies were the only thing that would keep them warm now. Just as Ayane had wished when they had entered the wooden their shelter...

Taglist!

@eloquentmoon @justalittletomato @marivenah @herbalinz-of-yesteryear @pixiestookourstardust @bacarasbabe @astarionslittletreat @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @oh-three @dukeoftheblackstar @lune-de-miel-au-paradis

[viccharine]

trying some shit out

[commentary under the cut]

like two weeks ago in preparation for my 17 hour flight, i downloaded a bunch of fanfiction because why would i pay for in-flight wifi????? but GET THIS, to my absolute DISMAY, none of it actually downloaded for some reason (I didn’t bother to check on it beforehand due to the haze of TSA-induced stress)

anyway, stuck on a plane, iPad and Apple Pencil in hand, headphones plugged in, no fanfiction to keep my occupied, and 17 hours ahead of me, I did the only reasonable thing and watched Mamma Mia 2: Here We Go Again TWICE!

and then I saw the person in front of me also pull out their iPad and start drawing so then I was like UGH FINE and started doing that as well—that’s how I got this piece! this is the first time in a while that I have been able to draw original art in one sitting and let me tell you it was lowk the most stressful experience of my life—im trying to get myself back into making art regularly instead of throwing something out maybe once every two months (IF that) but man is it difficult!

I fear I have developed an aversion to making art, some sorta cycle of me wanting to create art, being disappointed by how hard it is, getting upset over not practicing as much as I should have, and then quitting because im too frustrated—maybe in the new year I’ll actually put some more effort into correcting this so I am not miserable every year

you guys remember when I drew Ryan Ross everyday for like a week to get myself back into making art? maybe I will do that again, but like with Patrick Stump or something.

before I sign off (is anyone actually reading this?), I have a hell of a cold right now which marks the fourth or fifth year in a row that I have been sick on new year’s—is this just a me problem, or does anyone else miraculously manifest a cold the minute people start talking about New Year’s resolutions?

anyway, nice talking to all of you, and if you made it this far you should tell me what your favorite non-mammal animal is. k thx byeeeeeeeeeeeee!

[darknights-beloved]

you shall not cause yourself to wither, not in my embrace, not while i still hold you

(and not forever, not even after death)

"It is I who cherishes those hands and holds them with my own. Happy birthday, my darling. I am immensely proud of you." i dont know how this ended up as my birthday fic, but here we are <3 maybe its all the years of growth im grateful for, and here i am.

diluc x reader

wc ⸺ 8.4k

cw; hurt/comfort ◞ implied abusive ( ? ) family ◞ afab! reader ◞ self indulgent (appearance mentioned - dark hair, dark pupils) (personality - heavily implied introvert mainly, adhd and traumatized if you squint) ◞ implied trauma (nothing too explicit. just vague details.) ◞ depression/anxiety ◞ tw self harm (/other mildly suicidal themes) ◞ established relationship (husband and wife. uses of 'husband' 'wife') ◞ once again self indulgent ◞ reader with questionable parents (abusive, overbearing, narcisisstic...etc) ◞ reader is mainly feeling numb due to emotinal trauma catching up w/ them ◞ somewhat melodramatic (in my eyes at least) ◞ mention of pills/medicine ◞ terms of endearment ◞ kissing and holding as always ◞ any and all backstory is mostly vague this is for my broken souls who suffer because of others and are not kind to themselves. pure comfort from here on out. needless to say that it is strictly sfw! hopefully, im not forgetting any other warnings or missing something, if so please reach out! <<<<

synopsis; to cherish someone is to ache for them, more so as they ache. you've hurt yourself and diluc's heart aches deeply. you dont deserve it you both know it - and yet there it is, the stubborn ache that your husband will conquer (even more so stubbornly) and replace with a loving, gentle ache of tenderness instead. - in other words, diluc ragnvindr, comes back home to the manor to see his wife anguished by the troubles of her mind and other factors playing a part in doing so. he takes care of you with nothing but devotion and protectiveness and worry for the night as he will tenaciously every single day of his life no matter how much you think you dont deserve it.he'll show you how beautiful you are.

 Diluc drew in a shaky breath of air as soundlessly he stepped into the stillness of your shared chambers.

His eyes rove over your figure, laid upon lavish crimson sheets with your head burrowed into the soft pillows and fast asleep. Dark, black locks of hair tousled, splayed in contrast stark against the gentle white of the pillow. You were huddled by the comfort of the bed he had always lovingly arranged for your every night’s rest, sleeping soundly. You were safe.

His shoulders relaxed as he made his way forward to your sleeping figure, taking a closer look at your tired form. For now, he wanted to push any worries present aside and focus himself on you. He tugged at the tips of his glove, each finger until it was made easy to pull out. Then wearily making move to cast the leather fabric aside to the dresser, bare and calloused hands reaching out to you and gentle fingers coming down to weave through your soft hair. Another breath leaves his lips.

You were safe.

⸺⸺⸺

Just this morning, you were with him ── happily chatting away by the coffee and snacks table as the two of you shared a pleasant breakfast prepared by no other than Adelinde. You also happened to have a small cold due to the yearly season so the head maid made sure to whisk up a warm, richer meal than usual, suited to ease the strain and drain of your sickness.

Unexpectedly, minutes later, the moment was interrupted by a particularly probing businessman who unabashedly demanded the master’s attention from the distillery’s staff. To say Diluc was vexed with the sudden incident – no less while the two of you were peacefully enjoying yourselves – was to put it mildly. It took about an hour just to deal with the man and another to shut him up completely and shoo him away until he disappeared from the Windwail Highlands itself.

the moment he returned, however, he failed to catch sight of you anywhere in or near the Winery. He questioned his staff and most of them only had short, uncertain answer. Where could you be? Did you leave to someplace?

You didn’t tell him, or anything. The maids were already done cleaning up along with your much hardly eaten breakfast, discarding away the leftover food as they washed the plate in the sink, simply going about their usual duties. It was nothing all too surprising; you usually tended to skip this meal of the day and in consequence he’d chide you for the lack of care you had for your wellbeing sometimes. But today, he had gotten you to sit down and eat with him. Despite all the food he set onto your plate, perhaps all you had eaten was a small bun or so.

Did the incident with that snob put you off? If so, he had barely restrained himself on throwing his fists at the bigot before lest you’d disapprove of his actions, but he’d most certainly like to punch him now. You were often wary of social attention and the attention he got as Duke of Mond certainly didn’t help.

He looked around the walls of the manor, searching for you with soft, urgent calls of your name only to hear no reply in return. No reassurance. You must be in your shared room, yes? No. By his desk, sitting in a position that was very likely to strain your neck later as you draw fond sketches of him? No. Outside. You must be outside. He didn’t check outside yet.

“Master Diluc.” The head maid cleared her throat gently, a trace of concern etched onto her features. She didn't look at him directly.

Diluc halted his aimless pacing around the Winery by the doorway of his office, with a solemn expression. “Where is my she, my wife? I’m looking for her.” He stated forthright, eyes searching hers for an answer. “Where is she?”

But the way the older maid averts her gaze slightly, more prominent this time, an ounce of hesitation weighing her silence makes his chest tighten.

“She hastily left just half an hour ago, saying something about taking care of or accompanying her parents somewhere. To…lunch, I think.” Diluc’s eyebrows furrowed but Adelinde’s expression remained flat. “She did not inform us where as she scrambled to the door last-minute.”

“Parents…?” Diluc echoed quietly with a tone that could only be identified as a mix of caution. Anyone with eyes good enough could tell that he didn’t like what he was hearing. “Did she take her coat?” Mondstadt would only get windier by nightfall. Your cold would worsen.

“No, I don’t believe so.”

A pause.

“And you did not attempt to make me aware of this?” His jaw ticks.

“She had advised us not to bother you.”

An exasperated sigh left his lips gruffly the moment her words reached his ears. He simply turned, marching towards the hanger by his office, snatching the coat off it roughly by the collar as he sloppily slipped his arms into the leather sleeves.

“You shouldn’t have listened.”

That was all, he abandoned the conflicted maid and strode urgently and purposefully away from the winery, off to Archons knows where and hopefully catch sight of you.

⸺

Diluc’s thoughts were scattered. Partly because of his concern and frustration, for good reason too. He was sure his jaw would tense up painfully later from how much he was clenching it. Your faring with your parents was…strained, to put it mildly. Generously, too. He could not bring himself to trust them around you. He knew he was being stubborn, to not take your reassurance when you tell him you are able to handle things on your own. But how could you not even inform him of your departure? He’s more than just concerned; he feels mad and a little hurt. You always, always if called outdoors on any occasion, leave him with a sweet kiss of goodbye and a “I’ll return safely, dear” that the man was always accustomed to.

And today, you had not just disappeared onto any happy occasion, but you were with your parents. Your parents. People who never failed to repulse him by endangering you emotionally or physically by their selfishness, unresolved conflicts and troubles and own lack of understanding.

Then there’s you, with a benevolent heart with unfathomable empathy that hidden away in its core. And the Ragnvindr could never quite bring himself to understand how on Teyvat you could still care for them at times. He’s had his own fair share of family drama; or mayhap more than just what can be considered a ‘fair’ share but he knew for sure and in clear, unforgiving black and whites that anyone who do not even had a shred of decency and respect towards you simply doesn’t deserve to be in your presence.

He could never ensure your safety around them. He trusts you, truly he does, but he’s not a fool. He doesn’t trust them. Ultimately, Diluc only seeks definitive reassurance from you, the fact that you are indeed safe.

⸺

Hours later, and he’s restless. He’s scoured half of Mond and not even a knight dare question him, not wanting to be met by the scorching glare in the Ragnvindr’s red eyes. Caught up by a few pig-headed noblemen on the way or a few drunkards by the tavern who seemed to be causing their daily trouble who delayed him. He knows he shouldn’t prod like this in your affairs but your affairs with them were nothing but trouble.

Your husband remembers the many times you’ve been alone with your parents and then when you finally return to his arms, you don’t tell him about your stay with them. It’s always a vague answer. If he asks you what happened, it’s always “we’re doing good” “it’s fine” and he could never shake off the unease that crawled up his back at those words.

Only when he was met the outrider’s words of reassurance that she had seen you heading back to the Winery much later did he give up on his search. He breathed a soft sigh of relief, more than eager to get back home to you–

“Master Diluc, a fight has broken out in the bar between two knights! No. Wait. Three.” Charles panted, running towards Diluc the moment the barkeep spotted the Master in view. “- drunk knights.”

The Ragnvindr gritted his teeth, silently seething. “Those…imbeciles…” Charles panicked slightly, with a slightly confused expression on his face.

Diluc just sighed deeply, reigning in all his frustration as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “There’s no use talking about it. I will tend to them shortly.” This was taking much, much longer than he could ever be pleased with.

���⸺

Dusk had fallen. He hadn’t expected you to sleep so early, not when you always wanted to hang by his side all night alongside him as he did his paperwork. And were it not for the mishaps of his day he would’ve arrived home to you earlier so.

However, his frustration melted away seeing you safely tucked into the sheets as his heart beats calm down significantly in relief. He had scarcely been able to focus on anything but you. It really, really wasn’t like you to sleep early. You must be tired if you’re not going to stubbornly push yourself to stay awake. Shrugging off his coat, he slowly sat at the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight. Any questions he had can wait for until after you’ve had your rest.

The truth is you’ve been uncomfortable for days now. Weeks. Only recently had you been progressing well. There's a hollow look in your eyes. No matter how hard you try to feel okay and how much ever his heart aches at the sight, it's as though a fragment - a delicate, precious fragment - of you is missing. His darling.

And the thought of you ever being sad or disoriented destroys him.

Diluc tries not to let the weight of his sinking heart be the focus of his mind now. As soon as he refreshed himself, changing himself into a loose set of nightclothes – a flame flickers and dances at the tip of his finger as it lights a candelabra that stood gracefully on the nightstand, the small flame soon burning down from the top of the wick. He set aside the ornate on the nightstand, along with his vision. His movement were deft as a hunter’s as he carefully reaches out a hand to check your temperature. Your forehead…feels warm. Not too warm. A soft sigh escapes him. He hopes you’ve at the very least eaten when you got back and taken your nightly medicine. Though, noting the stiff outdoor apparel that still clung to your skin as you slept, he knew you would have likely done neither.

At one glance itself, it was easily to tell you had mostly collapsed into bed the second you had returned home.

“You must be tired...” he murmurs quietly, voice barely above a whisper. His gaze is still stuck to you, red eyes swimming with concern as they drift over your figure while he carefully sat against the headboard, mattress sinking slightly under his weight. “you’ve worried me, dear.”

Worried is an understatement.

His arm comes to wrap around the side of your waist and pulling you closer to his side to which you unconsciously lean into his warmth, seeking his presence even in your sleep. Roughened fingers come down to caress the softness on your cheeks, only to feel almost something wet brush against his skin. His brows knit together as he felt damp tears against your cheek – a clear sign you had been crying.

You avoid crying. Resent crying. You didn’t like crying in front of anyone. Even in front of him, sometimes. Just as he was physically strong for you, you’ve always wanted to be his emotional rock in turn and perhaps to a fault. His protective instincts kicked in, alarm bells sounding loudly in his brain as he wipes away the dampness with a warm finger and strokes your hair, trying to soothe you in your sleep. He whispered your name softly, with a mixture of tenderness and worry. He wanted to wake you, ask you what was wrong, hold you but he didn’t want to disturb you.

His mind raced with possibilities at what could’ve caused such an emotional reaction from you at this. He was sure, without a second thought, that it had something to do with your family. He was sure of it. You disappear in the late morning, don’t inform him about a word of your departure, when he’s back you’re in bed early and there’s tears staining your cheeks. The very thought of you crying alone in bed only makes him bristle in more than just one protective instinct. Such nightmares you of all people should not have to endure. And yet…

He struggles to shake out of the darkening thoughts that start to cloud his head and tries to focus on your breathing. He couldn’t help but wonder just what had caused you to cry. Was it something that happened while you were out? Yes, he could be wrong, but his intuition was nagging at him badly. Mind racing with a million possibilities, he forced himself to push the same thoughts that haunted him and lurked at the back of his mind earlier this same day.

You still had your cold. He knew the best thing he could do right now was let you rest and recover as much as you can. He hesitated for a moment and decided to watch over you until you were awake again, leaning down to press a gentle, lingering kiss to your forehead as his heart aches with a mixture of concern and affection.

Feeling his warmth, you shudder slightly. A welcome contrast to the cold your body feels right now. Despite his best efforts of keeping, you undisturbed, you couldn’t help but stir awake as your body recognizes his presence and awakes your senses. Though he wasn’t too surprised when he felt you awake.

His heart stills as your eyes flutter open, momentarily frozen in his movements.

“oh, you’re back..” his heart clenches when he sees your hand discreetly try to wipe any tears you thought was there, only to feel your cheeks warm and dry. A flicker of realization passes through your expression. You don’t look at him directly.

“why didn’t you wake me? I was wondering if you’d be concerned about my sudden disappearance.” You murmured quietly, watching his brows furrow slightly. There’s a pang of guilt in your heart. Of course he was worried.

“You’re exhausted.” He frowns slightly, his tone firm but caring “Needless to say, your cold. Why would I wake you up?” “And I was half mad all the day, not knowing where you were or if you were okay.” He withheld a sigh, feeling you snuggle up against him. But when you coughed into your fist, he felt his fists clench involuntarily. You should’ve rested. You should’ve informed him, or something... He normally would’ve rolled up his sleeves and give you a stern talking to but you didn’t even seem all that fully awake.

However, you felt his frustration melting away as you gingerly laid your head on his shoulder, only making him hold you tighter in a protective embrace. “Where have you been, my love?” he continues, his tone softening as worry whelms any other emotion he feels right now. “What’s happened, hm? You did not even care to inform me? You should know you’re not inconveniencingme by something as plain as that, darling.”

“besides, you’re still sick” he stresses, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice.

You stiffened at his gentle scolding, though you knew it came from a good place. A protective place that wants to keep you safe. Though, it was not out of fear nor anything alike, but more of guilt. You could be reckless sometimes, you knew that. But this time, it was more than just recklessness. You knew that and that made you feel guiltier.

“My parents had called for me-“ you reasoned weakly, as though an important excuse. A proper justification. “They don’t like it when I turn them down. You know how they are…” averting your gaze, your own tone softened much more “with me, with us…”

Your eyes drifted to the wall across, a sort of dull white. A thoughtful on your face as you recounted the incident with them.

What was supposed to be a pleasant lunch with them quickly turned sour. The food sat in your stomach uncomfortably the whole walk back home, your guts churning with the need to just shrink away. It was pathetic, really. You were supposed to be strong. And yet,

“They get suspicious quickly.”

You felt another cough coming on, stifling it to no avail as you bring your knee to your chest and your husband’s worried gaze doesn’t relieve at all. The way you said it, it makes him stomach churn. He knows how they are. But he knows you too. You’re being vague. A little too vague than usual.

Though hearing you excuse their overbearing behavior simply because they’re your parents makes his jaw tighten. “They do not own you like that, my flower. You shouldn’t have to drop everything and run to them whenever they call. Especially when you’re unwell..”

He pauses, his gaze studies you as he tries to get a read on your expression. Your eyes are still, not so subtly, avoidant of him. He could see the weariness in them, the obvious pallor in your cheeks. It didn’t help that you were trying to hide the effects of the cold from him either.

“You have to take better care of yourself, my love.. And you need to set boundaries with your family…you can’t let them keep guilt you into things like this. I won’t.”

He reaches out and pulls the blanket over the lower half of your body, feeling your faint shudders and shivers.

“I know…I do, I just...” your voice falters and you feel your words failing you. It wasn’t just this situation and you know it. How to describe the tumultuous rage of emotions in your heart when your mind violently blocks all your feelings? It’s stuck in your throat; it’s almost choking you and you hate it. You also hate that he can see it, that it’s worrying him, deeply.

(oh if only you knew where his worry was coming from…) albeityour doubts and fears were the most stubbornest things about you and you loathe it.

And how can you reassure him when it’s so clear that in your eyes a spark is missing, a spark he’d do anything to reignite until they smile and shine so brightly yet softly as though a sea of stars were poured into the darkness of your pretty pupils.

His heart hurts. Gods, you’re usually so talkative. He loves listening to every word that falls from your lips, music strung by your pretty voice. But now you’re awfully silent and he doesn’t miss the way your lips tremble every time there’s but a syllable on the tip of your tongue. Albeit the silence is unnatural in every aspect, he doesn’t push it.

It hasn’t just been weeks and both of you know it, pretending will only get someone so far. It’s been months and it hurts. It hurts him as much as it hurts you. The past few weeks were only more prominent, the numbness stronger and more palpable compared to the days before that. You’re falling apart and he keeps picking you back up, with gentle and nonetheless steady hands. For Archon’s sake, you’ve even demanded him why. Why didn’t – couldn’t – he just give up on you already? What makes him so patient, so kind, so caring? To stay by your side with the softest of smiles and go to the point of exhausting himself to keep you safe and cared of. Loved. Was he even tired at all?

Instead, you snuggle up just a little closer to his side and Diluc’s expression softens a tad bit more. Both arms now come to wrap around your smaller figure, as if protecting you from the world, from your fears. He turns to face his body to you somewhat, his chin propping itself right above the top of your head as he takes in your scent to ground both you and himself.

“I missed you..” you breathe and his heart clenches at how timid it sounds. No matter how much you may try to conceal your emotions or hide your thoughts from him, sometimes its as thought he knows more about you than you do about yourself. And in times you forget who you really are, he is more than happy to remind you.

“I’ve missed you more, mein liebe.” whispers he in return, his voice a little more quieter.

“we will take care of this later” he promised, pressing his lips to your right hand with absolute reverence. “for now, let me take care of you..”

He felt you shuffle nervously in your place, your left-hand stiffening under the blanket. His brows furrow, alarm bells sounding in his head as he sensed you were conscious of your movement, intentionally keeping it away from him. He knows sometimes you avoid his kisses out of your own insecurity but never quite deliberately and without being aware of what you were doing.

He felt his stomach sink as his hand searched yours underneath the soft blanket.

“Darling-?” he caught your hand in his fairly quickly, concern immediately etching onto his face as he feels you tug away from him.

“What are- “ you tugged your hand again as you hid the upper half away underneath, and he saw the panic rise in your eyes like urgent flames with only one instinct in mind.

“it’s nothing.” There it is. Your tone, it was uncomfortable and you cursed yourself for it. “Can you not do that- “

Your efforts were to no avail. You watched in helplessness and panic as his fingers brushed against a rough scrape with your broken and abrased skin around it, his blood going cold as he felt his heart lurch with ripples of shock electrocuting it so - on your ring hand no less where a red rose carved diamond rests on your ring finger. His heart dropped to a million pieces as he felt you quick, desperate protests, flying out of your mouth instinctively.

“W-wait…Diluc! D-don’t…. I didn’t-“ To hide this from him. His eyes darkened.

“What have you done?”

The words sound strangled in his throat; each syllable being forced out as though it were he was forcing out pointy daggers out of his esophagus instead. His held your hand firmly but gently – the last thing he ever wanted to do was cause you more pain.

“I-“ but the words were strangling you, too. Each cutting through your throat as you tried to force out your own set of daggers. You weren’t as strong as him. Not that you could find a coherent word in your head to word anyway. You had caused yourself harm, again.

His thumb silently traced across the scratches, cut deep but not too deep. Perhaps just deep enough for it to sting in the cold air, for you to wince at the touch and gentle tracing of his finger – for it to leave a small scar behind and to swell around the edges. The sight were knives twisting at the guts of his heart, hurting him more than it could hurt you. He slowly rubs against the slight swell, feeling your hand tense under his touch. One cut just below your pinky, another on the opposite side of your wrist and one in the middle, below them.

Those were three cuts.

He felt a wave of despair and anger wash over him, a roaring fire that burned furiously in his eyes, with emotions too loud to identify and some he could’ve even name. Hopelessness and sadness mixing alongside it. His grip on your wrist tightens slightly and you know you can’t escape even if you wanted to. His eyes trail over the self-inflicted wounds, swimming with anguish and then slowly but inevitably - unshed tears. He grits his teeth.

“I don’t understand.” His eyes search yours, and it almost seemed as though you didn’t understand either. “I thought you were doing…better.”

You’ve hurt yourself. Did you see that? Feel that? And yet, the only thing that seemed to be your main concern now was the fact that you were caught. Not the fact that you slit open your delicate, petal-like skin. Skin that’s soft, so perfectly in contrast to his callous ones. He has scars and he hates it. And If anyone ever dared to scar you or do so much as lay a fingertip on your body in the wrong way, he’ll do away with them. Severely. Anything the poses as a threat to you or any danger that stalks you, he’ll have absolute zilch hesitation in obliterating them completely. He’s all too familiar with the dangers of this world and what’s to come. But the thought of you being the one to hurt yourself, to wound your undamaged skin and treat yourself in ways he would kill were it anyone else’s hand scarring yours was torment to say the least.

“Why didn't you...” he pleaded, pulling you impossibly close and eliminating any space between you as though even a gap would be enough to stop his breath. “…tell me anything?” Your breath hitched and you were at a brilliantly pathetic loss for words.

"I was sure you were long past..." he paused, the words choking on his throat. It felt like poison in his tongue and he could neither spit it or swallow it down. "self-inflicted injuries..."

Helplessness attacked him, right in his chest. Even more so when you shrunk under his gaze. "I'm sorry" you shivered against his chest "I'm sorry, I'm sorry...I just.."

Sorry doesn't cut it and you know that, you should. You don't miss the way he seems to tremble too, as if he was also scared just as you are. Red eyes that can't tear its burning gaze away from the various self-inflicted cuts on your wrist and forearm. Red eyes that swim with frustration, worry, concern, sadness, and fear all at once. Red eyes that seem to be fully set ablaze now.

“I didn’t mean to repulse you…. or anger you.” No, of course not. If anything, you meant to demean yourself. The thought made him feel all the more helpless, yet more protective.

“No, angel. What you’ve done has done more than just repulse me. It’s hurt me.” He lets go for a second, scrutinizing each cut as his heart swelled in muddled and screeching emotions. “You’ve hurt yourself.”

Your tears finally fall, the weight of his words pushing the droplets down your cheeks. Now you see. You have given into those urges again. Something you have both fought tooth and nail to shake yourself away from. Something he thought he’d succeeded in doing but as your stomach churns do you slowly realize whatever pain you endure hurts more than what’s just. Because he cares, cares beyond what would be fathomable.

“You don’t deserve this.” His thumb gingerly hovers over the wound, his heart heavy and mind unable to focus on anything but the weight of his suspicions made reality. More so than what his initial anxiousness was for. He understands with all his heart what pain feels like. He simply doesn't understand why you'd pain yourself. You don’t deserve even a fraction of this. “Come here.”

Your shoulders slumped slightly. You’ve sliced open your skin because no one would care and you could feel the thrill of pain and numb all emotions. Where’d you get this from? When had that ever become reality? Was it the moment you had fought with your parents again, when they overlooked you and your efforts and you felt all that hurt all over again?

"Sshh..." he coos, despite yourself. Despite himself. He encircles his arms around your waist, and you can really feel it. His heartbeat was stuttering. He really is trembling.  "...my darling..."

Your eyes sting with more fresh hot tears at the hardly stifled crack in his voice and how he tries to stay strong for you. But just as your cuts bleed, his heart bleeds tenfold at the sight of it all.

A hand makes its way to the back of your head, holding you tightly and keeping you leave locked in his desperate embrace. Weary red eyes flutter close. Fingers thread through your hair again and Diluc holds you a little tighter - just to ground himself. Just to remind you and himself that the both of you are here, together.

He tries to let it sink in, that you had gone and does this to yourself again. You didn't in the past year. And he wasn't there beside you. He's frustrated, mad at himself. He wasn't there to shield you, to protect you and he could've. If only you told him, if only he....

Your spouse lets out a slow, unsteady exhale. He pulls back to look at you more clearly. Dark circles under your mildly bleary eyes and your nose flushed red from crying. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he feels your shoulders loosen slightly. His hand comes down, tracing the back of your wrist, along your pinky to your forearm. His frown deepened slightly, heart squeezing when you winced. The bruised skin have swelled up around the marks. His chest tightens as he inspects it closely.

"My darling..." He breathes, bringing the mistreated hand up to his lips as he peppered the most featherlight kisses. Right below every cut, above and all around as if to make them disappear with his lips alone. "Who made you do such a thing?” and did I fail you? But he dares not speak the questions that plague him, it’s on the tip of his tongue though – not so steadily balancing itself if it weren’t for him biting his own emotions back.

Because more than anything, Diluc is scared. He is really a scared, worrying lover of all things, trying to take care of you with all he is capable of (and oh so much more) and protect you with all he is. All he wishes is for you to let him.

Feeling the way you tensed up at his questions, as if your senses were on high sensitivity, he backtracked. His hand moved to your soft, silky hair that cascaded down the front of your shoulders messily as he stroked the stray locks tenderly. “Why? You don’t have to pretend with me, I love you more than words can articulate.”

You looked up to his eyes again, taking in how soft such a hardened gaze can become for you. This time from a slightly different emotion. You know what he's asking, pleading for.

“Let me in. Talk to me. Please.”

"I'll try.." You can't promise him. Not this time.

"No." But he won't let you.

“I think you need to understand this clearly. Everything will be okay sooner than you’ll know it, I will make sure of it. No matter what happens, I’ll always be beside you.” he sucks in a breath through his teeth and his eyes flicker to your hands once more. The right one, unscathed while the left…was the opposite. His heart contracted.

“Wherever I am, whenever. You have me. I’m yours, my love. And I want nothing more than to keep you happy and safe. To see that precious smile of yours.”

A shaky breath leaves his lips as his sternness cracks and overflows with emotion. "Because I can't bear to see you like this, my sweet..." Diluc brokenly whispers. He tries to swallow down his sadness, but it's painfully prominent in his eyes. He doesn't mean to make you feel guilty, it's not his intention at all. But he needs you to understand just how much he cares about you; he cares more than what he can handle sometimes and it hurts.

It hurt to see his dearest hurt herself.

"Whatever did you do to deserve such pain, such...hurt?" he demands in a broken whisper, gently cupping your cheeks up to him. "hm? Was it ever your fault? Your wrongdoing?"

No. No, no it wasn't. It wasn't. Your heart breaks along with his and all you can manage this moment is a strained sorry - a word he shakes his head at.

"Don't apologize." His jaw clenches slightly. "Don't apologize to me."

Your hand gingerly reaches his at his distress, you squeeze it as it rested atop your cheek. "For all the pain I've caused you." You murmured, watching his eyebrows knit together.

"It's only my pain because you've caused yourself pain." He interjects roughly, his hand quickly interlacing with yours as he kisses your knuckles gently. You sigh deeply.

“Don’t you understand?” you breath hitches as he pulls you impossibly closer to him with his eyes full of ache. “Everything I do, I do for you. You deserve so, so much more sweetheart. I’m…scared.”

Your hand comes to instinctively wrap around his and you hold onto it firmly. “What, why?”

“I can’t lose you…” His fingers dig into your hips lightly and your press your lips against his chest, right atop where his heart is. “Not to pain. Not to grief. Not to sadness. Not to doubt, not to paranoia. Not to death.”

“You won’t. I promise you won’t.” you assured with the same desperation as him, looking up at him with apology “I don’t even know what I was feeling, it just….it just happened.”

“I know. I know you don’t.” His heart swelled from the kiss and he felt ache tighten his chest again. “I know its hard but you can tell me, come to me if there’s if there’s anything even remotely bothering you. I’m here, sweet darling, and I’m solely here for you. You know this, don’t you…?”

You let out a heavy sigh, averting your gaze. “…not always.”

“Then I would remind you.” A finger delicately tilted your chin up, bringing your eyes back to your husband’s burning gaze. “I know not always. But it’s alright. I’m your husband – not just anyone. Your lover, yours. I want to be there for you. It’s my duty, my honor and privilege.” Burning with conviction and firm love. “You have to let me.”

Your throat constricted with unvoiced words, too many of them. All jumbled up. But he didn’t force a reply out of you, didn’t force a promise out of you no matter how much he wanted a conclusive reassurance from you.

“You don’t have to promise me that you won’t do this again. Just tell me you’ll let me take care of you.” his voice dropped to a delicate whisper; the next words fragile as they were precious. “…my love?”

So were yours. “I’ll…let you take care of me.” You reluctantly muttered and that was all he needed. His lips found your own, and no matter how many times he’s kissed you, he could never be prepared for how his heart sings, soars and swells all over again.

Whatever happened will be discussed once you’re in a better state of mind and ready to talk. For now, all you need is rest while your husband dearly takes care of you.

⸺⸺

The fireplace lit the dark manor, its halls illuminated in the warmth of its light and heating up the distillery to a comfortable temperature. It was silent, not too silent, just perfectly silent. Maybe it was the rare quietness in your mind that made you feel this way. Calm, oddly enough. Your thoughts not screaming at your emotions for once, your head not heavy on your shoulders.

The only sound was the crackle of the firewood or the broth boiling small bubbles in a pot over in the kitchen. Or Diluc’s disapproving hums and soft take of breaths as he carefully unfolded the dressing pad of the square bandage and gently pressed it atop the streak of your swollen wound. And never mind your barely stifled coughs from time to time…

The smell of classic chicken soup wafted in the air; broth filled with luscious ingredients that Diluc lovingly prepared for you. Your cold was still mild and you couldn’t even feel it in the tranquil of the moment. When everything else faded out and it was just you and your husband, while your head rested on the cool mahogany table and left arm stretched out for him to examine, to take care of. To put to rest what pain you’ve inflicted because of those who hurt you. Were you to allow it, he’ll find them later, strip them of everything they hold dear were it not for your patience.

“Does it hurt?”

You felt his fingertips caress the top of the bandage; eyebrows knit together with a hint of lingering frustration you knew he wouldn’t be able to shake off that easily. “No, it doesn’t.”

He hummed, somewhat distracted. Your eyes wandered around for a bit, before you finally lifted your head up to properly get a light read on his expression. He’s been quiet for some time.

“So…. aren’t you going to say anything?”

He sighed deeply, squeezing your wrist gently as he looked you firm in the eyes. “Please don’t take this lightly.”

His eyes trailed over your wounds once more, his eyes stuck on the same spots. The ointment he had applied was cooling to your skin, the burning tinge of the scrapes fading away from your skin. He holds it, tenderly, holds it. In his own scarred hands, more scarred than yours, bloodstained even but he holds it with a reverence that shines in his gentleness, his care.

Carefully, he lifts your petal soft skin to his lips and lets his faintly chapped lips brush against your knuckles just delicately enough. You still, heart pounding in your chest as he peppers them along your wrist to the very last mark below. It’s times like these, your heart to scream “He loves you.” And he does.

“Thank you.” at your whispered words, he looks at you and brushes your cheek with the softest smile. “for what, my sweet?”

“For taking care of me!” You exclaimed with a hint of defensiveness for his playful innocence, knowing he only wanted to lighten your head up a little. “You know that…”

“I know.” He confirms as you clasp your hand, a more serious expression on his face. “But that’s no such thing to thank me for.”

His feels your hand squeeze his and his eyes soften again with a soft grumble following afterwards. “…but you can thank me by letting me in more, hm, baby?”

“…right.” Your face flushed a soft red immediately, a shy smile twitching at the corners of your lips immediately and his gaze only softens more at the sight. His fingers brush against yours as he slowly pulls away – turning to the kitchen. The air smelled good. The soup must be ready.

“You need to eat now.” He grabbed a pretty black bowl. Catching your pout however, he shakes his head lightly with a fond smile. “Darling, you had barely touched your food at breakfast today. As for lunch…well, I want you to forget about lunch. And then; your cold.” He said with a pointed look. Your cold wasn’t even that of a big deal. “Just sit there and look pretty, I’ll be done here soon.”

Your pout soon turned into a soft, somewhat bashful smile and his heart skipped a beat. He really knows how to worm his way into your own heart, and you’ve come to trust it with fondness. “Alright, fine.”

Soon, he placed the bowl of steaming chicken soup along with a silver rose engraved spoon. It was that pleasant, comforting warm color that the broth held – along with the perfectly diced vegetables and meat in it. Looking at the food only did you rather surprisingly realize how hungry you were. Skipping meals were a norm for you, something both your and the head maid would highly disapprove of. But something was different. He wanted you to eat. He wanted you to enjoy the taste of the food, thus the carefully homemade meal. It wasn’t cooking for another for the sake of it. He wanted you to love even the first bite and thus the effort. That felt different from the begrudgingly cooked meals you were given from your mother in the past. It was her responsibility. This was different. This was Diluc and he wanted you to eat.

“What going on in that head of yours, my love?” He inched it a little closer to you before his hand came up to gently pat your head, pulling you away from your thoughts. He lifted your chin, eyes carefully scanning if you were hesitant. When he found none, he let go. “don’t keep yourself waiting.”

“I was just…thinking.” You dismissed, shaking your head lightly in reassurance, taking the spoon in your hand while he dragged a chair closer to you and sat beside you; offering silent company.

Every spoonful made your heart and stomach feel full and warm. It tasted so good. So good. The flavor invaded your tongue, the spice a small comfort to your now weakening cold. He rubbed your back the whole time, just silently staring at you with concerned care swimming in vermillion eyes, making sure you were okay. Additionally, also making sure that you’d finish the bowl completely…maybe have seconds. No, definitely– he silently added to himself as he stood up from his seat, abruptly deciding to brew you some warm ginger tea as well. Now that he thinks about it, there were some fine assorted dark chocolates in a cabinet, too.

"Think with me aloud, won't you?" He murmurs reverently.

⸺⸺

“Let’s get you into something comfy, yeah?”

You hummed softly in response to your husband’s words, your eyelids already drooping with the weight of sleepiness and tire. The warmth of the food seeped in too close to your heart like a comforting flicker of flame, spurring sleep. Everything was slowly but surely catching up to you – most prominently – exhaustion.

Your eyes flickered across his figure, moving diligently as he rummaged through your closet for your night clothes. The warmth of the food felt oddly lingering, lulling in a way. The pillow that helped your back rest was fluffed to your satisfaction, only more soothing to your weariness.

Once you saw him reaching for your clothes, an idea came to mind. “Can- can I wear your shirt?”

Your voice came out unsure, your heart jumping, albeit he had sternly taught you to be nothing but open with what you wanted with him.

Diluc froze, short-circuiting for a second at the unexpected request. He paused in his rummaging; he was surprised but pleasantly surprised nonetheless. He turns to look at you with a soft smile.

“You want to sleep in my shirt, my love?”

Your eyes flicker elsewhere hesitantly before returning to his again, then to his smile. It was almost as though he was proud of you of voicing that aloud, despite the shyness that seeped into your tone. Well, if anything, it only made him further smitten with you.

“Uhm, yes?” You confirmed with a nod, waiting for his reaction. His shirt alone and the soft fabric wrapped around her body along with his arms would be enough healing needed right now.

A warm, tender smile stretched out on his lips instantly as you confirmed your words, his heart aching with happiness at the simple request.

“Of course, dearest. My shirt is yours to wear.”

Instantly, he moved to his side of the dresser, rifling through his clothes and uncaring about the mess he’s making through the neatly folded clothes. He pulls out a soft, well worn-shirt. He makes his way back to you, the clothing clutched in his palm as he hands it to you.

“Let me help you.” before any protests could come flying out of your mouth, he gently helped you remove your top. Your heart calmed at the sight of his beam, relieved by his eagerness and enthusiasm.

“there now, careful...” he focused softly, making it certain that the bandages do not disarray as he pull the top over your head carefully. You let him take your top off tiredly while he set it aside to the laundry and you trying not to disarray the bandages too much over your injuries as you slowly donned the shirt.

With that he gently laid you down into bed, grabbing the covers to pull over your legs. His eyes raked over your figure, hugged loosely by his much larger shirt. He was suddenly made aware of how small you were compared to him. With a gentle kiss to your nose, he whispered ‘beautiful’ – reveling in your soft giggles afterwards.

Then he grabbed both of your hands in his gentle hold, pressing his lips onto every inch of the skin from your wrist to each of our fingertips. Just to feel your hands in his, hear your laughter for a little longer before sleep. It took his breath away every time he absorbed the fact that your hands – smaller, softer than his could ever be, chose to held his. It was definitive he’d protect them without question just as he’d protect your heart and soul. He just wanted you to be happy, he simply wanted you to be…

“Comfortable, sweetheart?”

You smiled contentedly, tucked back in into the comforts of the soft sheets. “yeah. Comfortable!”

“Now lay down, my love.” But despite your sleepiness, you really didn’t want to. You wanted to stay awake beside him, even for a few minutes. But knowing Diluc, he would use his vision to warm his hands to an impossibly unavoidable sensation of comfort, rubbing your back soothingly until sleep lures you into unconsciousness.

Your husband couldn’t stifle the smile that stubbornly clung to his lips as he gently pushed you into the mattress again when you tried to sit up once more, lifting your hair back and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’ll sleep with you.�� leaving each other was the last thing on the both of your minds.

“Yes, you will.” You happily smiled as he climbed into bed beside you, wrapping a protective arm firmly by your waist as he brought you close to his chest. “but not yet...” you cheekily added, making his smile widen reluctantly.

He cocked a brow at your words but before he can even part his lips to speak, he’s suddenly met with a plethora of kisses to the lower half of his face and you trying to squirm out of his hold

“You’re tired. Stop that.” He chastised gently when you tried pushing his hands away with a small frown on your rosy lips. Diluc adores your kisses and he, the uncrowned king of Mondstadt himself, was nothing more than your darling lover and more with every kiss you pressed unto his lips and body. But you needed your rest now and Diluc was also a stubborn man in that fact.

“But I didn’t kiss you all that much today.” You sighed, slightly muffled as you pressed more kisses to his cheeks and jaw. He blushes so very easily and his pale skin doesn’t do the man any favors either.

“You can kiss me plenty, tomorrow.” He cupped your face in place, squishing your cheeks together gently as he chuckled at the adorable sight of you, followed by a reluctant sigh. “After you’ve had your rest, my love. Go to sleep.”

“Fine-“ you grumbled slightly but he booped your nose, making you laugh softly again. “Hey!!” you clasped his hand in protest, holding it in your smaller one.

“don’t be mad at me, mein liebling. I just want you to have a good night’s rest after everything.” Lifting your hand up to his lips, he brushed a kiss against your knuckles. He swears it’ll be the last kiss but he can’t seem to get his hands or lips off you all too much. Despite his playfulness, the sternness in his eyes are clear and no doubt he’s still worried about you. He would be worried about you for days until he truly felt you better yourself both mentally and physically. But a few laughs spilling from your lips every now and then was the only thing that felt like it could ease the heaviness in his heart.

For now, he wanted you to have a good night’s sleep. To simply close your eyes and rest.

“I know, I’ll sleep..” you sunk deeper into his embrace he held you, no more fighting the pull of slumber. With a tired smile, Diluc tightens his arms around you gently, feeling your breathing and heartbeat steady against the rise and fall of his own chest.

“good girl. I love you. I love you so much.” His lips met yours once again and tonight, you couldn’t doubt him or that he was yours to love as you were his to be held. Your eyes flutter close. “I love you too, Luc. I love you very much too.”

Hands that were once soaked in unfathomable volumes of blood, hands that are calloused and far too roughened to lay skin to skin upon soft, silken ones such as yours, hands marred with scars big and small, some faded, some deep. Hands that run over yours gently feeling the ring that sits on your finger before reaching up and raking gingerly through your hair, lulling you to slumber. The only next thing that falls from his lips is a soft “goodnight” as you teeter on the edge of unconsciousness, failing (and successfully so, in your lover’s eyes) to the bear the brunt of catching sight to see the tears that quietly forms in your lover’s eyes as his thumb brushes once more against your wounds. Only as you slip into the deep slumber your body and mind longs for does the tears slip from the desperate grip and grasps of his restraint.

Your skin does not deserve to be marred. Not like his, at least not like his. Not like this. He’ll show you how beautiful you are all over again, no matter what. How utterly darling you are. He’ll remind you so.

a/n: im not sure if i wouldve finished it without you, aurora. i know you're dyslexic but the emotion in this fic could not exist without being dedicated to you first.

[bubbledumbbinch]

Kinktober 2021 - Tickling

Pairing: Lilia Vanrouge x GN! Reader

Prompt: Tickling

A/N: This piece of writing is strictly 18+. NSFW. Minors DNI.

Warnings: yandere, dubcon/noncon, mild angst(?), jealousy

Your muffled moans struggled to come out. Bounds restrained your arms and legs as you felt like you were being tortured. Well, because you were.

It had all started back when Lilia Vanrouge, your upperclassman from Diasomnia, had taken a liking to you. That's definitely what he would call it, not an obsession. Lilia's infatuation started when he was able to get closer to you and meet you during the time preparing for the Magical Shift tournament. His magenta eyes shifted with wonder as he watched you try to solve who was causing issues for multiple players across the school. Since then, Lilia had taken a secret liking to you.

Recently, Lilia had spent more time trying to court you, sending small gifts and talking with you more. Retelling his memories from the fae war was one of his favorite pastimes. He could feel the excitement radiate off of your body and your eyes were so cute. "Wow, Lilia-senpai! Sounds like you were really tough back then, that's so cool!"  Your voice repeats in his mind, sending sparks to his heart. Flashing you a sharp toothy smile whenever you made him laugh, looking at you with large, almost expectant, eyes. To say the fae was entranced with you was an understatement. He felt like he was so very close to asking you to become his partner.

That was until he noticed you embrace his fellow club-mate, Cater. A smile was visible on Lilia's face as his heart wrenched. He approached you as usual, brightly exclaiming your name. You turned to face him, still smiling after your interaction with Cater, who had already left.

"Oh, Lilia-senpai! Hi!" you giggled as the bicolored hair boy was close. "How are you doing?"

"Hi (y/n)! Ah, I was just wondering if we were still going to my room later to hang out." His voice was cheerful, but carried a bit of tension, which you had yet to notice. "I thought we could go into another… history lesson?"

Your eyes lit up at the idea, excited to hear another one of Lilia's stories. "I would love to! I'm finished with everything, so let's go now!"

"Mm, I love your enthusiasm (y/n)." Magenta eyes turned dark as he took your hand and led you to Diasomnia.

Lilia's room was cozy and familiar. You sat with him on the side of his bed as he joined you.

"Hm, I think it would be interesting to discuss how we… interrogated our enemies." Lilia's voice trailed off, maybe in a way where he was thinking of the past.

"Oh, like… torture..?" You asked, unsteady. He turned to you, his smile back on his face. "Yes! And if it's okay, I'd like to show you, with a demonstration."

You were confused, yet intrigued. "I- okay," you started hesitantly. "Is it gonna hurt?"

The fear in your voice only made Lilia's heart soar. You were so cute and you were all his. "No, my dear, I assure you it won't. If anything you might like it..!" He giggled as he shook his head.

Your eyes scanned the floor, searching for words. Eventually, you returned his gaze. Y'know what? Sure, show me, Lilia-senpai!"

"Heh, I knew you'd do this for me~"

~~~

Your arms were tied to the upper corners of his bedpost with your legs free. Your jacket had been placed neatly on his chair. A cloth was stuffed into your mouth. It all felt so… weird for some reason, even though you already verbally agreed. Trusting Lilia should have been enough, though, he had been so nice to you. There was nothing to fear.

Suddenly, as you felt the sides of your shirt lift, you couldn't help the surprised whimper that fell from your mouth. His cold fingers descend onto your exposed sides, causing you to start giggling in joy. "MMPh!!!" your core was contracting with the laughs that wracked your body.

"Aah, my sweet (y/n), your laughs are so precious. I want to hear more!" Lilia's eyes grew darker as his grin extended. He crawled on top of you, sitting on top of your crotch. His cold fingers tickled the sides of your body once more. He reveled in the way you writhed under him.

"Nnnh!! hh- hmm, MMH!!!!" You did your best to shake your head and kick your legs, signalling you wanted him to stop.

"Oh, you want me to stop?" Lilia questioned innocently, turning his head to the side. You nodded profusely, sighing in relief when he finally did.

"What were you doing with Cater?" it came out as more of a demand rather than a question. His tone automatically brought sweat to your face. In the confusion, you could only manage to say a measly "huh?"

"(Y/n). I saw him touch you, earlier. He likes you doesn't he?" Lilia's smile was slight, still there, but small. And his eyes seemed like they looked in yours, but were almost looking beyond you.

"How about this, I'll remove the cloth so you can talk to me." As soon as it was removed, you breathed in and out rapidly, gasping for air.

"I- Lilia-senpai, Cay-kun and I are just friends…" You said, gulping. Yet, his expression hadn't changed.

"And, even if he did hug me, I didn't do anything wrong! You and I are just friends too, so you shouldn't question if other people like me or not…"

Wrong answer. Lilia's smile faded and he seemed visibly upset, crossing his arms.

"Hm." Was the only noise he released as you felt the tickling begin at your sides again.

However, his eyes were still trained on you, and his arms still crossed. Looking down, you saw green feathers moving on their own, tickling up and down your sides. You laughed - laughed until it really started to hurt. There was pain in your abdomen that only worsened over time. Your kicking legs suddenly felt as if they were bound in place, probably also due to Lilia's magic.

"Ah, aahn- Lilia-senpai, s-stop!! Please!!" You cried, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

"Hm, let's amp this up, no?" Lilia brought his hand to his mouth, smiling deviously.

Lilia's weight was lifted off of your body along with the torturous ministrations the feathers wreaked on you.

Chest heaving up and down, you felt as if your body was too tired to do anything. However, as soon as you felt your pants being unbuttoned and undone, you spared some energy to lift your head.

Lilia's fingers dragged your pants down to your knees, chuckling once he saw the arousal in your underwear.

"Aah, my sweet (y/n), I guess you don't really hate this, no?" He teased, bringing a finger to swipe at your clothed crotch. “Hmm, you’re so wet for me!”

"Oh!!" You turned away from Lilia, embarrassed about your own situation. "Lilia-senpaaai~, please, haanh, stop…!" You moaned, finger still rubbing at your arousal.

Again, the feathers started to torture you. The tickling brought pain and tension back into your body. Your screams molded into moans, heat coming straight to your cheeks as Lilia's fingers were still stroking you through the thin cloth.

"Hm, I'll think about it! How's this, I'll stop once you tell me you love me. You'll be my sweet (y/n) and I'll be your boyfriend!" Lilia's eyes shone, staring into yours. Goosebumps littered your skin as you heard his words.

"Ah, wh-what!? N-no..!" You protested, still writhing underneath him.

"Tsk, I guess you've chosen this then…" The speed of Lilia's fingers quickened their pace, ultimately slipping under the waistband of your underwear, stroking you directly.

"Oh- ah, oh fuck… " You couldn't help but let a curse slip from your mouth. "Lilia-senpaiii~ don't… stop…" You close your eyes in shame, as the sensation of Lilia's fingers invaded your senses.

"My sweet (y/n), oh my darling." Lilia coos, "It seems like you really like your punishment, don't you?" His tone teased you.

"Haah, fuck, I- I love it, so- aanh~ much..!" your babbling only grew as your climax approached rapidly.

Your moans only grew louder as you felt the feathers now tickling your pert nipples.

"Lilia, Lilia, haanh, Lilia-senpai!!!" You repeated his name like a mantra, breathing and growing more and more erratic.

Your moans were making the fae's cock twitch in his pants, yet he held himself back. He wanted to really take you when you were lovers. But that would be soon enough, wouldn't it?

"(Y/n), am I making you feel good?" Lilia's voice drew out. His voice was deep with lust and only sent tingles throughout your body.

"Y-yes, fuck! Lilia-senpai, I love- mmh, it feels so gooood~" you moaned, eyebrows furrowing together. You felt sinful, in pain and yet also pleasure. The tickling was stimulating your nipples while Lilia's fingers kept going faster.

"Lilia-senpai~ I- I'm gonna cum…" you turned into his pillow, muffling your moans. Drool was spilling from your mouth and you didn't even realize it. "Please, Lilia-senpai, make me cum!! I love it!! I- I love you, Lilia-senpai!!" you screamed, teetering on the edge of your orgasm.

Lilia moaned with you, absolutely loving your drunken confession. "Yes, my love, my (y/n)!" Lilia groaned. "Cum for me, my darling. Then we will be bound together!" His fingers stroked you with fervor, feathers teasing your body even more.

You reached your orgasm, screaming as liquid spurted out of you. As you rode your high, Lilia's fingers slowed. The feathers' torture on your body also ceased, leaving you to breathe heavily. Your arms were unbound, and you didn't even realize you were shivering from head to toe. Even with the freedom to move you couldn't.

Lilia's lithe body found its way to slump next to yours, arms wrapping around your form and pulling you close.

"I love you, (y/n). You're mine, now." Lilia's voice whispered softly into your ear.

[lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall]

The Odd Rumble of Thunder - Thor x Reader

(A/N)

Hey guys! I wanted to personally thank you all for the kind comments and messages, they really inspire me to continue writing more and the support truly means a lot! Also, I just found out how to access post replies, I apologize I haven’t gotten to reading them since my first story, I’m still trying to figure out the gist of things here on Tumblr! Anyways, recently I’d only been posting more on Poseidon, so here’s a special one for our Norse god of thunder (aka the god I simp for the most). This idea came to me while out on a camping trip, I hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback would really be welcomed and appreciated!

This is for entertainment only. Record of Ragnarok belongs to Shinya Umemura, Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

The Odd Rumble of Thunder

Thor x Reader

Even before the news spread like wildfire, Thor had become under the tyranny of a good habit to bringing his wife with him wherever he may go. It stood to reason that he would never be so careless to invite you over to danger, hence why, at a god’s ephemeral notice, he had stopped seeking direction for his combative side, but when, at last, he had to venture, he made much quicker work of it than when he would have otherwise.

Inarguably, if you’d wanted to lay down and rest instead, it was a surety you’d receive your meals in bed, unbothered. But for Thor there was no guarantee he’d ever have to worry about you, so the whole of Asgard knew by now he’d drop whatever he was doing to accompany you, uncaring about diplomacy in the first place.

Not that Odin nor Loki minded either; especially since the Allfather knew more about the concerns of a father expecting their first child. Moreover, Loki enjoyed shapeshifting into his cousin during days he was absent. It was much more fun to cause mischief legally, as he would say.

Today, Thor stood by his wife who sat comfortably in her rocking chair on the porch, allowing a full view of the hills that sloped gently down to the grand gardens. You were seven months along, approaching the eight month, the swell of your stomach now far more prominent.

At the very moment you had begun to show, you had a companion of whom would almost never leave your side, your husband’s absence in the kingdom gradually becoming more frequent, more lengthened, till at last his presence among his people became an exception. Despite your constant reassurances that you would be fine, Thor insisted on staying, casually sweeping aside your thoughts regarding his habitual sense of duty.

“I would only be gone for nine months to tend to my wife and child, they should fare well on their own lest they are more incompetent than I would’ve thought.” Thor had told you once before, and you’d decided not to question him further on that. You understood your husband’s concerns, to be truthful, you had a few of your own as well, so having Thor assist you alleviated some of the stress and worry concerning your child’s safety.

Especially now that you were nearing your due date. For instance, you were having the toughest time moving, suffering primarily from the weight in your belly and pains in your back and legs that made walking and even standing difficult. What made the physical strain worse too was your child’s eagerness to know you and Thor both, unable to stay long in one position, much like their father’s enthusiasm for battle.

“How are you feeling?” Thor’s question rested upon a rather precise calculation of the last time he had asked the same only a short moment before. It was quite visible in his actions that he did not want to cause any negative feelings if he could help it, though desiring you to avoid stress as much as possible.

You smiled. “Come close. You’ve been standing there for ages just ogling at me.” You opened your arms out wide. “Are you not tired?”

Truth be told, despite Thor’s constant need to remain close to his wife, he felt a real, undeniable fear of touching you, specifically, your abdomen. He closed the distance between until he was right in front of you, staring down at you with hard eyes. Longing leaped like a flame reaching out in his celestial yellow orbs.

“Love, I am always grateful for your concern for me. And I am feeling much better just knowing you’re beside me.” You raised yourself up, pushing against the chair to try to stand. Thor rushed forward, held you then put his hands under your arms to lift you up. Your child was growing fast. “But how about you? How are you feeling?”

You inched closer, your fingers playing with the locks of his hair that you could reach. “Aside from the stress of waiting, I’ve noticed that you have something else weighing on your mind.

“Tell me, what is it?”

At the sight of you through his warworn eyes, his mind was filled with bliss. For that loving glance of yours, he felt a divine presence and holy atmosphere that seemed to pervade everything around you. Having an inkling of what you were hinting at though, he broke your gaze, in an attempt to avert the guilt you conferred on him.

“Please. We’re in this together, I would want nothing more than to help you back as much as you’ve helped me.” Thor felt you shift in his arms, get more comfortable. He felt the bulk of your child across his legs, the weight no doubt pulling you down. Seeing you in pain like that, was sad and unbearable, and the gnawing feeling grew stronger. And since he knew you were always so full of strength and determination, always unrelenting in your attempts to make him feel better, he began,

“I am afraid.” Red eyebrows drew together.

“Afraid of what?”

“That I might accidentally hurt you and our child,” Thor took a deep breath in then let it out in a sigh while taking a step back. “I do not want that to happen, even if I want to be at your side at all times. And this frustrates me to no end.”

Thor did himself a favor by giving attention to anything other than his wife, refusing to be a witness on the sadness and any he may have caused. Dealing with his own disappointment was nothing new, but he had trouble dealing with the fact that he was the cause of yourpain. He wished he could take his troubles which escaped, hanging in the air, and all the bad feelings on himself and let things continue as they were, but he knew it didn’t work that way. You needed to know that he only wanted you and your child safe and protected, even from himself.

He could not understand how the cosmos could play such a cruel joke on the both of you: you, bore so much pain because of one of the greatest affairs of life, and him, the strongest deity in the Pantheon, was powerless against the natural laws of existence.

Strong shoulders slumped, head bowing as stray strands of red hair fell over Thor’s brow. Not again. He did not wish to be reminded of the cautious sympathy his father and cousin had approached him with. His stomach lurched whenever the subject of your frailty came up. Dread and a terrifying fear overwhelmed his soul for the first time, the thought of losing you−

“Hey,” Your voice which lingered on the gentle breeze brushed against Thor’s face, pulling him out of his stupor. He refocused, turning his gaze onto your sweet face.

How were you able to hold yourself up well despite your obvious pain and suffering? Did you not bear the same nervousness as he did? The answer was obvious, practically screaming in Thor’s ears but became deaf following his guilt and clouded instincts. For a long time since you’d first told him about the news, he bore these worries in silence; but when at length he’d been perplexed by your introspection−or seeming lack of it. Why, in fact, did you concern yourself with him at all? Compared to you, there was hardly any threat to his own life posed. Why had you always done more to make him feel better when you were the one who needed it most?

Cutting through the haze he found himself in was the shape of you, or maybe your hair billowing in the wind, a wisp of it across your face, and then suddenly the feel of your skin, the sense of your head on his chest. Even if it were fleeting, that alone brought him the possibilities of comfort that he’d so needed. Oh, how he missed this; you cupped his big callously marble hands around yours, caressing them so tenderly, as if he were fragile and might break, so short it could never be pulled back.

As he relished the warmth of the blaze you gave him for the winter of unease, he’d realized much sooner that the coldness that inched its icy fingers up his spine still threatened to battle your kind words, you, his very own wife, and he detested himself for being unsure whether or not it was of his own doing; was he pushing you away when you’d only wanted to offer your help?

Thor’s immediate impulse was to pull back from you, abruptly halted by your fingers which slipped between his now splayed hand. You wrinkled your nose in a delightfully unguarded manner that caused his breath to hitch in his throat.

“Do you remember the first time we said our vows?” If only you knew the way Thor perceived you: in his eyes, your radiant smile reflected the morning sunlight of Valhalla, for a split second picturing the moment you’d walked down the aisle, that headpiece on your head instantiating the paradox of mystery that once lifted revealed your beautiful face, marking it the best day of his long life. Something warm bloomed in his chest once again and spread its heat out through every vein in his body. He remembered the smooth feel of the veil against his cheek after sealing your promise with a kiss, his lips parting with a breathless sigh.

“Your hands caressed my fit of nerves with light, tender touches and then inspired me with hard, passionate embraces,” With effortless ease, you lifted your intertwined hands to your mouth and kissed his knuckle. Thor watched with great admiration your every move, the desire to distance himself was now but an afterthought. Nothing would ever separate him from you when all you’d ever done was pull him closer than ever.

Then, you sought out his hand, kissing his palm as he stroked your face. You clung onto his arms, gripped at his chest as if you were searching for warmth, as if you needed his touch, and much like him, couldn’t bear to be even an inch away. His mind was still slowing its racing to let him mutter something in response, so he allowed himself to be entranced by how smooth and sure of yourself you were, with nothing to mar the calm serenity of your features. Your smile seemed to be a natural adornment, the utter gentleness in your eyes, reminded him of every morning when he woke up, he would see you by his side, as well as your sleeping snoring face. Right at that moment, the silly scream finally made it to the deaf god’s ears:

He was your haven,

The place you called home and went to find peace.

As Thor immersed himself in your smell, your sparkling eyes, he felt the excruciating cold all melt away in your warmth. No more seeds of doubt with which to sow and seek his destiny. Slowly, he began to see his surroundings from a keener point of view, realizing, then appraising them: from the passing wind your hair messed which he pushed aside, tucking it behind your ear, to how his sash seemed to fit him better indeed, rather than cling onto his skin even tighter as brutally as it had done before. He noticed the minute changes since he’d last taken a good look at you months ago: a little flusher on your skin, lines around the eyes a little deeper, a little increase in body temperature.

He pulled you closer, his actions not arising from calculation instead led by instinct. You let him take more of your weight, your belly pressed against his stomach as you sighed, his fingers working wonders on massaging the muscles that had been much abused in carrying the baby’s weight. A sudden wrenching through his sash struck Thor’s heart and had him holding his breath.

The baby had moved, and he’d felt it.

Bending down, he buried his nose in your hair, closing his eyes as he drank in your scent. Your arms wrapped around his back as he connected in this loving embrace, feeling his heart beat in rhythm with your own.

“Our child would no doubt love to be enveloped in their father’s safe arms,” With a light, gentle touch, your fingers ran through Thor’s hair, making him shiver with delight.

On that day, only the beautiful gardens of Asgard became privy to nothing more than a moment in which husband and wife reached for the same comfort and their concerns met. These gardens were simultaneously the very same place where Thor had first avoided the problems that plagued his mind, but also became exactly the same place where he’d find solace in the arms of his lovely wife.

Resting his hand on where his child was, he recognized that familiar feeling turning up, but upon realizing the bittersweet irony of and within these gardens, the revelation came to him: happiness could also come from the very object of fear.

And as you had an unmovable trust in him, there was an unspoken mutual understanding that he too, should put his trust in you.

[chasingpj]

𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐦𝐞?

"My soulmate is so mean. He’s done nothing good with these stupid drawings. You know, all I want is something cute, like a picture of, maybe, flowers?"

pairing: leo valdez x gn reader

words: 2,994

warnings: cursing, mentions of genitalia

category: one-shot, soulmate!au

You don’t know who your soulmate is, but when you find out, you know the first thing you’ll do is punch him in his face. You don’t understand why he does this. Why can’t he be romantic like everyone else? You have a few friends who have the same connection you share with your soulmate, through your skin. Your friends rise from their slumbers with beautiful sketches on their arms; Or throughout the day, lines will appear as they’re being drawn, creating the most beautiful artwork you’ve ever seen. However, of course, you don’t get that; instead, you get this.

You stare at yourself in the mirror with pure disbelief, and you can’t decide whether to cry or scream. You’re used to these kinds of drawings in places like your arms, stomach, and legs, so they were easy to hide. But this has never happened before; it's never been in a place so… so visible.

You fill with rage as you observe the sloppily drawn dick on your forehead and your fist clenches as it lays on top of your bathroom sink. You fucking ass. How the hell am I going to hide this? You have to be at work in fifteen minutes, and you have this vulgar drawing on your forehead. You’re sure if you tell your boss your situation, he’d probably dismiss you because this is obviously not appropriate for the workplace. Still, you can’t even imagine trying to explain this to him. It was way too embarrassing.

"What am I going to do?” You whine as you rub your hands on your face. The drawing won’t be removed from your skin unless your soulmate removes it on his, so you had to think of a solution right away.

“Where could he possibly be where this is acceptable?” You try to refrain from sobbing hopelessly as your frantic mind searches for a solution. You think maybe a hat will work, but you discard the idea knowing your boss will tell you to take it off once you’re indoors. Suddenly, like a sign from the heavens, your solution hits you right in the face when you catch sight of your makeup bag lying on the toilet seat. You reach over, grabbing the pouch and unzipping it. Your quivering hands move too fast, causing the products to fall out and scatter into the sink. Your eyes skim over them in search of your thickest foundation and concealer. When you find them, along with your primer, you sigh, saying a silent prayer before getting to work.

***

Leo gasps sharply as the sight of his face in the mirror shocks him out of his fatigue. He touches his forehead, trying to recall the memory of last night while ignoring the pounding headache surging through his skull. He remembers getting to the club with a group of friends and how they took one shot after another until their vision was blurry. He has a faint memory of dancing with some girl, and the chaos of his 4 am Macdonald’s run with his friends. However, he doesn't recall the moment when this picture was drawn on his face. When did this happen? More importantly, who did this? He pauses, gawking at his reflection. His jaw clenches as the culprit comes to mind. He felt foolish for questioning who did this because he lives with, and he went home with one person last night, and that's Percy.

“Percy!” He yells angrily, and in the next room, he hears Percy’s manic laughter getting louder as he runs down the hall and into the bathroom with him. Percy can’t help but laugh even harder at the sight of a distressed Leo, and he silently congratulates himself for pulling such a successful prank. Leo’s expression hardens, and his gaze snaps over to him, “It's not funny!”

Percy snorts and nudges his shoulder, "Come on, loosen up!" Leo laughs sarcastically,

"Come on, loosen up!" He mocks with clear annoyance, making Percy’s laughter ceases. Leo usually takes things like this so well; he's never been angry at him because of a childish prank. The two of them have been pulling pranks on each other since they moved in together, and they would always laugh it out while deviously planning their revenge. Percy tilts his head, now growing annoyed that Leo’s annoyed.

"Why are you so uptight today?" He almost snaps, not understanding his fury. Leo's eyes narrow at him,

"My soulmate is linked to my skin." He speaks slowly and carefully, accentuating his words to make sure Percy understands how bad this is. Percy's mouth drops open, and he stares at the vulgar art on his forehead.

"Oh… shit," is the only thing he can think of saying. “Fuck, I forgot. I’m sorry,” Percy apologizes even though he knows it doesn’t help anything. He didn’t share the same connection with his soulmate, so he had forgotten entirely about Leo’s bond with his. He’s now left with regret knowing that there's someone out there going along their day trying to hide this lewd image.

Leo groans as he throws his head back. "I-It'll wash off? Right?"

Leo flips up the sink’s nozzle, dipping his head in the cold tap water to wet his face. He scrubs with his fingers, blindly grasping the soap next to him. He runs it over, spreading the suds and lightly scratching his forehead. He rinses everything off and returns to his original position to check his face now. He yells in panic when he sees the drawing didn't budge at all; it didn't even fade. Percy audibly gasps,

"I used permanent marker."

"BRO!"

"I'm sorry!"

Percy shifts on his feet as the memory of last night comes back to him. Leo fell asleep in the cab ride home, and Percy, somehow without much balance, carried him over his shoulder into their apartment complex. He squints his eyes, and with a vague remembrance, he recalls plopping him down on the couch. Leo was unconscious, and Percy’s drunk mind saw this as a perfect opportunity to prank him. He picked the first marker he saw, and in the middle of a giggling fit, he sloppily drew the phallic item and took a picture.

Leo frantically puts his head back in the sink to scrub again, and Percy stands by the door, watching panic wash over him. Leo continues scrubbing his skin, and though his skin becomes red under the friction of his nails, he persists. Percy shakes his head, walking over to him quickly, and he pats his shoulder.

"Come on, man. It's not working; you’re gonna hurt yourself." If Percy let him, Leo would scrub his skin raw. He disregards his advice and continues to scrub, bringing the soap over the drawing once again before scratching harshly. Percy, not wanting his friend to hurt himself, turns off the tap, and Leo groans, standing straight. He stares at himself in the mirror, his face dripping wet, and his skin is red with irritation. I'm so sorry.

***

Your day hasn't gotten any better since this morning. First, you wake with a dick on your forehead; second, you miss your bus because you took so much time layering makeup on your face. Then, you get to work about 15 minutes late because your commute, which usually took about 5 minutes, was delayed due to traffic. You assumed that your day couldn’t get any worse, but you discovered you spoke too soon when the system your job uses to put in orders crashed, making your job even harder than it had to be. Also, you spilled hot coffee on yourself during the morning rush, and that almost sent you straight into tears, but somehow, you prevailed.

By the afternoon, you wanted to rip your hair out when you realized you forgot your wallet, leaving you unfed and cranky. Your boss was no help to your mood either. He picked at everything you did today and held a grudge about you being late this morning. You've never had such a shitty day at work, and there is a sense of relief when you witnessed the clock turn to 4:30 pm. You immediately stood up from your chair, collecting your things before walking straight to the computer to clock out.

The last challenge you're facing is to get home in the slippery aftermath of the pouring rain earlier today. It was colder than usual; the sun’s hidden behind stormy gray clouds, and the smell of wet soil is in the air. You shiver, your arms wrapped around your frame in a poor attempt to keep you warm. You don't have an umbrella, and you hope it doesn’t start raining again. You were sure that if your makeup washes away in the rain for everyone to see the mystery under it, you will lose your mind.

You stand in the corner of the waiting shed, resting your head on the side. You take a deep breath, noticing your hands are anxiously chipping away the week-old nail polish. From the corner of your eye, you see someone join you under the shed, and out of usual curiosity, you look over. A tall, slender guy stands in the opposite corner; he wears distressed blue jeans, a black hoodie with a print you can’t see from your view, and a black winter hat. In his hands, he fiddles with a piece of scrap metal. His skin was tan, and his brown curly hair peeks from under his hat. Oblivious to your staring, he looks away from his fiddling and happens to glance over at you. There's a moment of awkward eye contact before you snap your vision away and out to the street.

You cringe at yourself for staring too long, shifting on your feet. You casually lean over the side of the curve, and you swear the light of the heavens was shining on your bus as it drove toward you. You couldn’t help but smile, a sense of relief washing over you. It’s here; you were one step closer to getting home and relaxing.

The excitement was taken away as quickly as it arrived, your bus passing your stop making a mini tsunami in the process. A wave of water splashes directly on you, and it takes you a moment to process what just happened. You stand there, cold and wet staring blankly at the curve. You felt overwhelmed, not being able to hold back the cries that you’ve been suppressing all day.

"are you-" a sob releases from your lips, stunning the unknown guy next to you. You miserably walk over to the bench, plopping down and resting your elbows on your thighs to lay your head in your hands. You sob freely, not caring about the boy's presence, and he stands in his spot, not sure what to do. He had an innate urge to make you feel better, and he doesn't know why but it pains him to see you like this. He clears his throat and decides to settle in the seat next to you. "Bad day?"

You sniffle, trying to find your breath, "The worst."

You don't look up, your hands doing their part to cover your face and your forehead. "I don't understand why everything is going so wrong.” You didn’t even care that you were pitying yourself, but you felt like you had the right considering how shit your day has been.

"I woke up with an awful drawing from my soulmate. I was late for my bus, which made me late to work; I haven't had lunch either. I'm hungry, cold, and now, soaking wet in street water." You sniffle once more. "My soulmate is so mean. He’s done nothing good with these stupid drawings. You know, all I want is something cute, like a picture of, maybe, flowers? I'd even take a tacky picture of two stick figures falling in love... shit; I’d be satisfied with a grocery list. But of course, with my luck, that doesn't happen. I get stupid drawings of... genitalia."

Leo’s body tenses next to you, and his teeth bite the inside of his lip. Drawings of genitalia? Sounds like him. Now he needed to see this drawing you were talking about, and he feels himself getting anxious at the possibility that you could be his soulmate. You continue to cry, refusing to move from your position.

"Well... it can't be that bad?"

"Oh, it's bad,” you managed to respond in your ragged breathing. Leo hesitantly reaches over, affectionately rubbing his hand across your upper back. Your breath hitches softly at the back of your throat, and there is a surge of warmth that radiates from his hand. You feel your tense shoulders begin to relax, and you furrow your eyebrows as your breath miraculously finds its regular pace. You even have this strange desire to cuddle into his frame to acquire more of his touch.

"Come on, show me. It's probably not as bad as you think." He speaks from his experience this morning. If you aren't his soulmate, he's sure that whatever you have isn't as traumatic as what he and his soulmate have.

"No! You'll laugh," you whine, your head laying firmly on your hands.

"I won't! I promise." You can tell from his voice that he was genuine, and for some reason, you can trust him. You slowly remove your hands from your face, but your head is still in an embarrassed bow. His heart pounds in his chest at the anticipation and leans forward to get a look at your face. You close your eyes, not wanting to see his initial reaction.

There it was. Right under your concealer, there is the familiar drawing faintly present. Leo's mouth drops, and his eyes widen; how is he going to tell you that he has the same picture on his forehead? You sigh shakily,

"It's bad, isn't it?" Your face burns in pure humiliation, and you now regret showing him. Leo is silent for a bit, trying to find words to explain himself.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out. Your eyebrows furrow and your eyes flutter open to look at his guilty expression.

"Why are you sorry?" He doesn't even attempt to explain himself in words. He simply slides off his winter hat, showing you the original drawing on his skin. You inhale sharply, your mind trying to process what is happening in front of you.

He's your soulmate, the person that you ideally would spend your life with. You didn't think you'd find him anytime soon or even at all. Your stomach flutters at the sight of him, and your cheeks get warm. You both gaze into each other’s eyes, and there was an immediate connection. You take in the tousled curls on his head, a bit frizzy from his hat and his big brown eyes. Your heart pumps hard in your chest, just as fast as the boy’s heart in front of you.

A few people told you that you’d feel like the world will slow down when you meet your soulmate. You’ll feel complete, and all at once, you’ll fall in love. You thought it was a load of over-romanticized bull, but you found that it was true even with your strange circumstance.

You finally found him…

But he's done this.

Your anger somehow counteracts this "in love" feeling, and you momentarily hate him for starting your day off on a sour note.

"You!" Your arms lift to strike him in the chest, but before you could attack, he grasps your tight fists.

"I'm sorry! I can explain!" He says quickly. Your arms loosen up, and you narrow your eyes at him,

"Explain yourself then." Sheepishly Leo cowers and his hands remain around your fist, just in case.

"Well," he sighs, "I partied a little too hard last night, and um, my roommate, Percy, thought it would be funny to draw this on my forehead."

"Your roommate is an ass."

"Well, yeah. Sometimes. But he was just as drunk as I was, and he didn't realize that the marker was permanent. When I saw it, I immediately thought of you, and how you’d have to walk around with this." He chews on the inside of his cheek, "I tried getting it off, but it won’t go away." You sigh, willing to forgive him since it wasn't his fault.

"So, we're gonna have this for a while?"

"Probably a couple of days or so." You groan and don’t say anything in return. You look down at your lap, still hiding your face from anyone around. "Oh, here, take my sweatshirt. The hoodie can keep it hidden.” He puts his hat back on and pulls his sweatshirt over his body, passing it to you. You smile softly as you take it from him. You pull it over your still soaked and cold frame, slipping your arms in and bringing the hood up. You mutter a small thank you, shoving your hands in the front pocket. He replies with a hum, allowing the sounds of the passing cars to fill your comfortable silence.

"Again, I'm sorry,” he apologizes sincerely, and you turn your head. You smile reassuringly,

"It's okay. I'll forgive you this time,” you say teasingly, and he chuckles. "I'm y/n, by the way."

"Leo." You reach over, taking his hand, and you guys share a handshake.

"Nice to meet you, soulmate.”

masterlists

[manjiropie]

do whatever is in your mind.

Young Mikey x Reader!

Warn! no warnings today! enjoy!

It's not often Mikey and I have a quarrel. We do bicker here and there, but that's what happens between friends, right?

I've joined Toman for almost a year now– although I've known Manjiro for much longer. I met him through Emma, who is a big friend of mine for as long as I can remember. She was there for me at times when I felt like there was no exit, no light. She's an extremely important part of my life– of me.

I've come to realize that I have been spending more and more time near Mikey, which is not bad, I do enjoy his presence. He may look tough and intimidating but he's just like a mochi: freezing cold on the outside but melting saccharine inside. Now that I'm a part of the gang and actually get to know and participate, I've gotten closer to him. Here and there Mikey invites me out.

"So, it's like a date?" I'd smirk suggestively at him.

"In your dreams." He'd try to hide his smile and he'd look away.

However, there are a few little habits he has that tend to send me on a rage trip. I get mad easily. Things will likely set on fire quickly. It's not that I want to, but my mother is not one of the most patient people in the world and she tells me to cool down. As if.

This last week was the cherry on top.

Mikey had crossed the line. He had pissed me off in every single way possible. He pretended not to listen to me while he was eating. He would answer me in a "oh, I don't really fucking care about what you're talking about!" way. He tripped while he was laughing hysterically at something Draken had said and his pink lemonade was all over my white shirt. He drew in an assignment that was due to the next day for my math class. He told me off for no reason at all in front of everyone in the last Toman's meeting... all of that wasn't on purpose. I am aware of how incredibly short his attention spam is when it comes to not so important affairs. But, fuck, couldn't he just be a little nicer to me? At least during last week where I was having sharp cramps in my fucking uterus? Yeah, maybe he didn't know that because I try not to be so obvious. But when he told us we'd be training last thursday I almost laid on the ground in fetal position and cried for hours. I didn't! I fought and then went home and cried.

Then, this Saturday– today –he invited me to his house to hang out. Emma was with a friend and his grandfather was out of town. When he called me to his house we never did much. We'd watch TV, hang out on the couch discussing stupid stuff, we'd be on our phones... nothing so wow. It was still fun, though.

I wasn't in the best mood to leave my comfy bed but I was way less in the mood to fight him off over the phone. So I slid out of the bed and dressed the first jeans I saw laying on the end of my bed and the oversized Nirvana shirt hanging off my chair (it's actually my dad's shirt, shhh).

~

I knocked twice on his bedroom's door.

"Come in." He yelled from inside. I open the door and he's laying on the bed, his head hanging off of it and his hair is almost touching the floor. His face lit up and he rolled over so he laid on his stomach. I walk over and sit down beside him.

"What's up with the frown?" I didn't notice I was frowning to be honest. Guess the bad mood followed me here.

I shrug.

"Ugh, don't tell me you're in a bad mood." He whines. "I called you here to chill and you're already angry. What's up?" He lays on his pillow and swings his legs to place them on my lap. I huff and shove them off, getting up.

"You've been treating me like shit the whole week and now you wanna chill?" I say, more calm than I thought.

"I did not treat you like shit this week? When do I treat you like shit?" His tone was one of disbelief and confusion.

"Ah, Mikey. Embarrassing me in front of the rest of gang; spilling your drink on my school shirt, which is now stained; ignoring me or answering like you're bored..." I list them off on my fingers. "I am the one who asks, what's up with you?! God, you're always being so unpredictable, which is good sometimes but not like this! Not to me!"

I flop down on the couch, starting to get tired of this whole thing. Knowing Mikey, I know that he'll not lay down again.

"So you're the only one allowed to have bad days now?" He sits on the edge of his bed and I turn my head around lazily, uninterested, bored, like him.

"You were laughing incredibly loud with Takemitchi and Draken friday."

"You can be so annoying sometimes."

"Oh, I'm the annoying one now?" I stand up.

"If you don't like my company, why did you even come in first place?" He also stands. We don't have much height difference, but he's hardly two inches taller than me.

His voice is calm, like always. Which makes me infuriated. "Fucking hell! Does it hurt for you to apologize!?" My sudden outburst takes him on surprise, and me, too.

"I already apologized, stop whining about it."

"I'm not whining–"

"If you weren't," he walks to his desk and sets a cup that was once beside his bed down. "You would've dropped this matter before."

"You don't give a damn about what I feel, do you, Mikey?"

"What?" He turns around, brows knit together.

"You heard me. You made me have a bad week and the least you could do is apologize, you dumbass!" I stomp to his direction.

"I already did! Why don't you–"

"Shut up or I'll punch you." I say, slightly looking up.

His eyebrows twitch and he slowly tilts his head to the side, like a puppy. "Or what.. ?"

"Are you fucking deaf?" I point to my ears.

He comes a little closer. "You're gonna do what if I don't shut up?"

"I'm going to punch you if you don't stop being a brat." I sneer at him. My blood boiling. The stress from this shitty past week overflowing in that moment.

"Oh, yeah?" I could feel his breath oh my nose.

"What? Are you doubting me? I would." I jerk up an eyebrow. I've never fought physically with him. But it's not like I can't.

"I'd like to see you try." His eyes flicker to my lips for a brief second and my breath fails, making me cough.

"What? Can't punch me?" He amuses.

"Fuck you."

Suddenly I feel an arm sneak around my waist and in a second I'm chest to chest with Mikey. My eyes widen– his were peaceful as ever, although superior.

"Do it." He says, looking down at me.

The way he's holding me is making my head spin. True, Mikey is cute...

"Do what?"

He laughs at my confused expression. "I don't know... what did you say you'd do to me?"

Ha ha.

His hold on me tightens.

"Do whatever is on your mind." He says.

My eyes roam free between his eyes and his soft pink lips. Do whatever is on your mind.

If he knew what was on my mind, would he still allow me to?

"Do it," he encourages me once again, "aren't you the 'oh so brave' one? Punch me, yell at me, do whatever you want to me."

Those words were the last push I needed. My hands find the soft skin of his neck, hidden by his long hair. I pull him close and lock our lips together. I feel him making a little sound, I don't know if it was surprise or relief.

If by just looking at it his lips seemed soft, actually touching it felt like kissing cotton candy or guessing cloud shapes.

He didn't pull back, in fact, he held me with both hands. I have no clue how he did that but it seemed as though all of my worries dissipated as we kissed.

My heart was beating so fast that it made my chest hurt. My head started to pound when I spent a little too long without air. I pull back from his lips and keep my gaze on them as I breathe heavily.

"Hm." He hums quietly, almost dreamily if you'd ask me.

I look up at his face and smile a bit, noticing how his cheeks are pink. I lift an eyebrow up as if asking what he was thinking. He shakes his head and then puts his right hand on my cheek, caressing it. He kisses me again. This time is slower. As though being present in the moment. As if it were just me and him and nothing else.

----------

I hope you guys liked It! It was so pleasant writing this out of the small bits of ideas that I have. Don't forget: my requests are open. You can request anything! Thank you for reading! Oh, likes and reblogs help a lot! If you consider following it'd make me even happier <3

[omegas-spaghettios]

In Defense of Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, and Echo

I want to clarify that I like Crosshair. I used to love him and I just kinda like him now, but he's a great character. I hold nothing against his fans. I just want to talk about how people are slandering these 4 like they did everything wrong when everything they did was pretty justified.

I need to talk about Crosshair's chip, because that affects how we all view these final episodes. While I agree things don't add up completely, Cross has no scar, nursing a headache, etc., his behavior DOES indicate he is telling the truth.

Chipped clones have been shown to show loyalty to the Empire above all else. They killed the jedi, they'll kill innocents, they forget all sentimentality, and we see with Jesse that they will more than happily die to accomplish the chip's commands. The Batch has experience with this with Captain Grey in the premiere and later Wrecker. Chipped clones are basically battle droids.

Crosshair does not act like that at all. He shows sentiment and loyalty to personal history, he defies orders to even kill his fellow imperials, and he puts aside his anger in order to escape Kamino. NONE of those things are congruent with him having a chip in at all. So while it doesn't add up completely either way, the evidence honestly seems to favor that he's telling the truth as his behavior is a huge tell that has not been shown to be able to be countered for more than a few seconds (love you Rex) while an absence of a scar could indicate a variety of things and the headache can honestly just be chronic pain from his insane head injury in Episode 8. I'm not saying that is the truth, but what I am saying is the evidence provided can easily line up to more than make it believable that Wrecker, Echo, and Tech believe he has it out.

Wrecker does know what a chip feels like, so we all expected more empathy from him, but Crosshair is not acting the way did Wrecker did AT ALL. Wrecker lost all control and immediately tried to kill the people he loves most, while as stated Crosshair is exhibiting almost opposite behavior. Wrecker knows what a chip does to you and Crosshair is definetly not showing that, so why would Wrecker show empathy for it? Wrecker knows first hand that is not what the chip does to you so it more than makes sense that he sees Crosshair's behavior and story and believes it.

Crosshair's intense feelings of Supremacy and loyalty to the Empire are not out of no where. We see in TCW that he is incredibly cruel about regs, he has always hated them. So considering the journey he went on this season it does feel like a realistic progression of belief.

Crosshair also is hurting his own cause here. Now we as the audience know for sure he had it in for Episode 1, we are shown explicit evidence. We have no idea when he got it out though due to the lack of a scar, and his refusal to specify hurts him here because what he actually did as himself vs. chipped is VERY important. I also want to say that while the audience knows Crosshair has the chip in in Episode 1, no evidence is provided to the Batch to know that, so Crosshair saying he had it out "a long time ago" means it is reasonable that the Batch could even suspect everything he did since Episode 1 was him. And here's a quick rundown of some things he did this season that the Batch would know about:

Obeyed Order 66 and shot at a child jedi even when ordered to stand down

Advocated to kill civilians to the others

Shot Wrecker and used him as bait to lure the others out

Lead dozens of Troopers to Bracca to kill them

Went out of his way to order his troops to kill Omega during that confrontation within earshot of Hunter

Tried to burn them all alive with an Ion Engine

Contributed to the oppression of Ryloth

Arrested Howzer, a clone who was trying to do the right thing

Spouted supremacist jargon about how they are superior to regs (something Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker have been shown to be softening up on)

Said the might of the Empire was the only way and basically gave them all the choice to join or die.

And remember, our heroes just got the revelation that potentially all of those actions were taken of Crosshair's own free will. They have every right to be harsh or unwelcoming after that. Sure they didn't try to rescue him but he also tried to put multiple blaster bolts through their heads, no one is innocent.

So the general coldness and harshness is more than understandable considering that Crosshair just admitted to trying to get them all killed on multiple occasions on his own free will, that would sour your relationship with anyone I reckon, so why are they expected to be okay with Crosshair doing all of that?

Anyway, to specifics. When Wrecker says Crosshair never even tried to come back and that they would have taken him, there is truth to that. During both Bracca and Ryloth, Crosshair was right there and had opportunities to turn heel and help them all escape, but he never did. I've seen this described as victim-blaming but you guys need to realize that Crosshair has potentially done ALL of this of his own free will and is actively trying to pull the others to the Empire. Wrecker is right, Crosshair put more effort into killing or converting them than he ever did in returning. It's harsh but it's true.

And Tech saying it's in his nature is like, classic Tech. I don't necessarily agree that they all have set paths due to their biology like Tech does, but Tech began this season rattling off about how Wrecker was made to be the way he was, this is just how Tech rolls.

The one I see a lot is after Crosshair rescues Omega and they still have the guns up and then never thank him. First of all, Crosshair never thanked them either for saving his life so let's not go around expecting any shows of gratitude from everyone. But more importantly, how were they supposed to know that Crosshair was saving Omega? As a viewer I legit thought he was aiming for Hunter there, it makes more than enough sense that they pulled their weapons on him. And considering their recent history, it makes sense that all three of them keep their weapons up longer than needed, both Hunter and Omega are potentially at risk. We all saw how quickly all of them drew their weapons in Episode 13 at even the slightest hint of danger to Omega. Considering everything before, it makes sense they kept them up until he disarmed himself, that's just good self defense honestly.

And my final point:

CROSSHAIR WAS NOT ABANDONED AT THE END OF THE SEASON

He was given multiple invitations and opportunities to join. Sure, he was not made to feel all that welcome, but even after all of the season and the finale, Wrecker stops to ask if he is coming and Hunter gives him one last chance. He was given many opportunities to go with them. He said he made his choice, that isn't abandonment, that's stepping away.

In Conclusion

Honestly all 6 of the main characters really dropped the ball on this season's conflict and no one is blameless or unjustified.

I'm not mad about it because it makes for compelling character drama, but everyone involved kinda didn't do their best, so maybe let's not slander one side over the other?

(Small lists of commenters who showed interest is seeing this: @violettavie @shilsvampsinger @rain-over-kamino )

[t4t-lumpygrab]

Fanfic Request!

Request: Hurt/comfort with Lemongrab dealing with fatigue and maybe LSP cooking for him. (word count: 1440 words YEAH I KNOW THIS ONES A WHOPPER)

Cws: internalised ableism and insecurities, fatigue affecting character negatively, mentions of the physical abuse lg2 suffered, also sort of eating issues but not in an eating disorder way, more around being too tired to eat properly, but I felt I should mention it anyway. Also mentions of extreme neglect and abandonment (lg2 again) feel free to add any I missed! 

Okay I really enjoyed doing this one! Thank you very much for the request! I have a lot of thoughts and headcannons about how LG2′s trauma around being abandoned would affect Lemongrab, and lead to him internalising the idea that he can’t show any weakness and has to be self sufficient because no one will ever help him. And of course, this would make needing help due to physical issues very very distressing for him. So I ended up going very introspectiony. Also there’s lil hints of LSP having depression in here (top ten hcs I should make more content for. Like depressed LSP makes so much sense to me at least.) 

Also for context: I don’t have chronic fatigue syndrome but I do have a condition that makes me experience fatigue, and this is based on some of the worst days I’ve had with it so while it’s probably not a good portrayal of cfs bc I don’t have that, I was asked to do general fatigue so I drew on my personal experiences! :)

💜💛💜

The scary thing about the fatigue - and about almost everything with his new body, was how unpredictable everything was now. He’d woken up a few days ago feeling tired, and hoped it would be one of those days where he could shake off whatever cold weight had clamped onto him, but it stuck. A constant background noise burning in the back of his mind as he made his way to the lunch table having slept through breakfast, and then the dull ache in his head and limbs droned on and on as he tried to go about his day. He went to bed hoping tomorrow he’d feel a little bit better, a little bit stronger. But he didn’t. He woke up feeling worse. 

Lemongrab sat at his seat at the head of the table, staring into his bowl of lemon jons. He’d paved over all the windows when renovating the castle (living in the same house he had memories of being abused in had been unbearable, and while the house looked different on the surface there were still memories of blood stains under the new carpets) so the dining room was lit by soft lamps. But it was one of those days where even the tiniest light felt like needles being inserted into his eyes. He squinted and manoeuvred his hand like a puppet to reach for his spoon - it took so much effort to do one basic gesture.

“Your Earlness-” said one of the lemon governors at the table. 

Lemongrab would have liked to look up and say yes hello I am experiencing a difficulty please do not watch me, and please do not try to help me. But raising his head to look at someone was too much, and all that came out was: “Nngh.”

“-Perhaps you should retire?”

I do not need to retire. I just need you to turn off the lights and stop looking at me and stop talking and let me lie down on the table until I feel better. Oh. 

Maybe he did need to retire. Lemongrab nodded and felt embarrassed as he was carried to his bed by his lemon aides. The four posters felt like prison bars, and the softness of his sheets hadn’t felt comfortable for a long time. He closed his eyes. They hadn’t closed the curtain, and the light from his bedroom window hurt.

LSP knocked on the door before entering and he made an agonised noise the second she saw him and pulled the covers over himself. He felt slightly better once he was out of sight. 

“You didn’t eat anything so I brought you your food.” He heard her set down a bowl on his bedside table, where his summoning bell was. “I uh, um. So I know it’s not the same but when I get really tired because of my brain stuff I find chewing stuff really annoying, so I melted your lemon jons with some juice so you can eat them as soup. I dunno, maybe it’s not helpful. Is there anything you want?”

“I do not want sympathy.” was his muffled answer. 

He couldn’t see her face, but he could picture clearly the disappointment. “It’s not sympathy. I love you.” 

I love yoouu too. That is why I cannot bear for you to see me when I am like this. Was what he wanted to say, but no words came out. At times like this he wished he could just beam what he wanted to say into people’s heads, and make them understand him. He didn’t mean to be difficult. He didn’t mean to be a burden on his people, or an inconvenience to the person he loved. 

He heard the sound of LSP closing the curtains for him before she left. Even though he spent hours in bed, few of them were spent asleep. He lay there, trying to rest, playing over and over how he must have hurt her feelings. When he finally did drift into an uneasy sleep, he dreamed of having no legs and of being trapped in a dark, dark place that grew tighter and tighter around him until it finally snapped, and he woke up. 

He felt slightly stronger, but not by much. He was strong enough to cautiously poke his nose above the covers and see if the room was dark enough to open his eyes without hurting himself, it was. His eyes fell on the bowl of lemony-soup LSP had left behind. He hadn’t touched it. Slowly, he reached for the bell on his bedside table and summoned a lemon aide. He feebly traced her outline with his fingertips and the lemon seemed to understand without him saying anything. 

He kept his eyes closed as she floated over to his bed and sat on it gingerly. 

“Hey. Are you gonna eat that or ?”

He didn’t say anything. 

“That’s okay. You don’t have to eat it just because I made it for you. And you don’t have to say anything or whatever. I’m just happy you asked me to come sit with you.”

Lemongrab sighed. He expected her to be upset with him. It was unexpected, and he didn’t know how to deal with her still being nice. It made him nervous, and it made him feel guilty. 

“I am sorry that I am not as receptive to your help as you would like me to be.” he said eventually. It was a stiff apology, but it was true. He was sorry that he found it hard to let people help him. When he was hurt his first instinct was to hide it, and hope it went away, like a child that had broken something. He always felt like he’d done something wrong, and like he was going to be punished. What for, How, and Why he didn’t know. It just didn’t feel safe to let anyone close. 

When he had needed people’s help the most they’d just ignored him. His mother and her knight saw the second earl get beaten over the head and screamed at, and bitten and regurgitated so he could be swallowed again and again. And they had just left him. He’d sat alone in that dark stomach for weeks before Lemonhope came, and then help had come in the form of a terrible death. If he was hurting, and no one was going to help him, he’d rather no one find out about it at all. But he couldn’t hide this - everyone noticed, everyone wanted to make things easier for him, but it was like something inside him had been broken. Whatever made him still want other people around made him want to push them away. 

“I find it hard tooo… accept help.” Lemongrab admitted, “But just because I cannot accept does not mean I am, hm, unappreciative.”

“It’s okay. I know you’re upset and that you’re tired. I get that it’s, I dunno, hard to let people see you when you’re like this.” Lemongrab gritted his teeth together. He hadn’t realised his insecurities were so obvious. “But I don’t want you to think that I stop caring about you when you’re sick! Or that I stop caring when you like… pop off at me or something. I care about you always, even when you���re being annoying and gross- like that one time you ate a bug, man, what the hell was that about? Or when you do dumb stuff. So obviously I still care about you when you’re not feeling well.” 

Lemongrab had often wondered if he’d been better, smarter, prettier, talented, sweeter, braver, would his mother have come back for him? Was that why she had left him, because he wasn’t good enough? And if he couldn’t be special, the least he could do was not get any worse. If people abandoned him when he’d done nothing wrong, what would they do to him if he did make a mistake?  

“I mean…” LSP shifted away from him, “you care about me when I get like, really really sad, right?”

Lemongrab blinked. Why would LSP worry that he didn’t care about her? “Oh. Yes. Yes of course.”

“It’s the same with me. You don’t have to be able-bodied for me to love you.”

Lemongrab turned green and suddenly got very interested in the hem of his blanket. Maybe trusting in other people didn’t feel safe, maybe it never would, maybe it would always make him grit his teeth and feel like taking a huge life threatening risk. He didn’t really understand why she loved him enough to cook for him and close his curtains and sit with him, but she did love him, and wasn’t that something worth risking everything for? “I love you too.” 

[nobodylivesson]

Hi!! How are you doing? I hope you're fine with the pandemic going around, so I want to request Jin-woo x fem reader, where reader is a guardian spirit in a dagger he got from clearing the demon castle and she's attached to Jin-woo now cuz he's really strong? It's fine if you don't want to 🤗 anyways remember to drink water😘

The Silver Dagger

Fandom : Solo Leveling

Paring : Sung Jin-woo x Guardian Spirit! GN reader

Requested? Yes

»»————>❃<————««

Jin-woo huffed a little as he examined his now red-stained clothes

“Ah it has become such a mess but they weren’t matching my size recently. Guess have to buy new clothes soon” Jin-woo thinks as his eyes look at the bodies of Hwang Dong-Suk and his companions

“The association won’t let this slide, have to come up with an excuse and also have to make Jin-ho quiet about this” Jin-woo thought eyeing the orange hair guy who seemed to be puking from the look of the bodies

Jin-woo and Jin-ho eyes meet for a slip second causing Jin-ho to puke more while Jin-woo sighed

Suddenly something silver caught Jin-woo’s eyes and tilted his head to see a dagger at the corner of the dungeon. After walking close to it he could finally see how the dagger looked

The dagger was a mix of silver and black, with the handle having a very beautiful carving of a person dancing and a person standing at the tip of the dagger’s cover. The whole thing was made of fine metal which was intact without any scratches or marks

“A dagger? It doesn’t seem like a drop so what is it doing here? And it seems to be in very good condition….Was it one of those guys? Hmmm…..” Jin-woo wonder after he picked up the dagger

But he couldn’t ponder much as the dungeon started to shake making him snap his head towards the ceiling

“The boss has been defeated so it means the dungeon is going to close soon. Let’s get out of here” Jin-woo says towards Jin-ho who just meekly nods before getting ready to leave

Not thinking much Jin-woo decided to take the dagger with him and inspect it at home since leaving such a good looking dagger here would be a waste

But it seems this decision of Jin-woo is going to give him much more than what he would have thought

»»————>❃<————««

Jin-woo looked at the dagger at his hand with raised brows as it doesn’t seem to enter storage and Jin-woo had to wrap it at a cloth provided by Jin-ho before bringing it in his hoodie’s pocket

The more Jin-woo examined the dagger the more his curiosity grew and new questions raised

“Where did this dagger popped out of? Was it really from one of the guys from the dungeons? If so, then why didn’t they used this against him during the fight? Why wasn’t Jin-woo able to put the dagger in the storage if this dagger was a part of the system?”

Jin-woo just sighed and plopped down on his bed as his hands moved from the top of the dagger to the bottom when he realized he hadn’t taken the blade out of its cover

So bringing his right hand to the handle, Jin-woo tried to pull it but was surprised it didn’t come out

Yet he still shrugged it off and now with much more strength tried to pull it again which much to his relief finally came out

The blade was shinning as if it was made just a few moments before Jin-woo found it and when he brought it close to his face, the blade reflected his face as clear as day

“Well no matter how weird and mysterious, I can’t leave a good thing behind so I guess I can use it in my next raid” Jin-woo thinks and tilts his head when for a second he thought he saw something appear on the blade

Jin-woo jerks himself straight and examines the blade carefully but as one expected nothing was there

“Am I tired and hallucinating things? Well today was an eventful day, guess I would be sleeping early today” Jin-woo mumbles while massaging his eyes

A sudden knock to his door made Jin-woo stop what he was doing and immediately put the dagger at the table before covering it with the cloth he brought it in

When he looked at the door again, Jin-woo saw Jin-ah was peaking through the door

“A guy named Jin-ho has called and asked for you” Jin-ah says to which Jin-woo nodded before saying “Understood, I’m coming” as he started to walk towards the door

Suddenly Jin-ah screamed causing Jin-woo to quickly look at her to see his little sister looking at something behind him with utter shock

Jin-woo turned around in time to see a shape forming which with each passing second seem to turn more and more into a person

And in 1 minute, a person appeared in Jin-woo’s room out of nowhere who looked like a foreigner and was wearing clothes that looked like were of the medieval time?

But Jin-woo realized that the appearance wasn’t important now and in an instant Jin-woo was standing in a defensive position before Jin-ah

“Who are you and how did you enter my room?!” Jin-woo cautiously spoke with a straight face and cursed inside that there was no weapon in his hand at the moment

Jin-woo didn’t know what kind of a being this person was they just appeared out of nowhere. So a tense atmosphere spread across the room as stayed behind Jin-woo and gripped his cloth in fear at what might happen while Jin-woo thought of what he can do to make sure Jin-ah got out of there safely if the situation got messy

But all the tension broke down when the intruder suddenly smiled before saying “Hey, hey, you don’t need to be so cautious I’m not dangerous and it’s you who brought me here” while pointing at Jin-woo

“What?” Jin-woo says when he feels a stare towards him making him look down to see Jin-ah looking at him with questioning yet suspicious eyes

“Hey, you saw him appear out of thin air so how could I have brought him?!” Jin-woo says in panic as if everyone has turned against him to which Jin-ah says “I don’t know what you hunters can do so….suspicious” causing Jin-woo to shout “HUH?!”

This caused the intruder to laugh before they in a cheery voice said “What I meant was you’re the one who brought this dagger, so it’s you who brought me in the house cause I live inside the dagger”

A silence fell between all three of them before Jin-ah and Jin-woo shouted “Eh?EHHHHHH?!”

»»————>❃<————««

“Well let me introduce myself, I’m [Y/N] [L/N] and I have been trapped in this dagger for more than 100,000 years due to some kind of curse. But I guess I can also be called a ‘Guardian Spirit’ of the dagger” the intruder or [Y/N] says cheerily as they sat in seize-style

While Jin-ah and Jin-woo who was sitting opposite to them on the sofa were intrigued and baffled respectively

“How do you expect us to believe you like that?” Jin-woo says with a frown to which [Y/N] chuckles before saying “Yes, believe or trust isn’t something that could be gained just by a mere talk and we need evidence to prove it. But unfortunately, I don’t have the means to prove myself trustworthy yet maybe if you heard my story then I can gain some of your trust?”

“Story doesn’t give anyone the right to be trusted” Jin-woo says his face becoming serious now with a cold gaze to which [Y/N] without even being fazed says “But I want you to believe me” while tilting his head to the side, happiness shining in his eyes

Jin-woo gets taken back and blushes a little because [Y/N] look kind of cute so he brings his left hand to cover his face

Jin-ah who has been nervously watching all this jumps at the chance and says “Hyung, let’s listen to what they have to say. I don’t think someone bad would say they can’t be trusted and then ask us to trust them with a story”

Jin-woo wasn’t convinced but a tiny part of him wanted to know about this person called [Y/N] who appeared out of nowhere and now was sitting in front of him with a smile

“Okay” Jin-woo says with a sigh causing [Y/N]’s face to relax a little, a nostalgic look now replacing his smiling face as he says “This is the first time I ever told anyone…….I was from the [C/C] but I was orphaned and I was owned by a wealthy merchant. I knew my fate was to be sold to some people long enough but then one day he arrived, my master. He was a scholar from South Korea who had come to [C/C] for some work and saw me being displayed by my owner. I still don’t know why he did it but he brought me that day and took me along with him back to South Korea. I thought he only brought me so I can do work for him but he taught me how to read, write, cook, and skills to live. My master was someone who saved me and gave meaning to my life, so I decided I would for the rest of my life serve my master. But then one day at night, my master took me and brought me to a cliff before thrusting that dagger into my hand. He said ‘Please live on and forgive me’ before pushing me down the cliff. I don’t know what happened after that as I was enveloped in bright light but then I woke in a dark place. Over years I realized I somehow got imprisoned inside the sword, would never age again, survive any kind of disaster, and my master long dead. I wasn’t able to draw out of my cover by anyone and was constantly sold. So that’s how I moved from different parts of the country and saw all this from inside the sword. But then you came and drew it out, being able to give me the opportunity to at least come out. I don’t know how he was able to do it and I don’t know why he did it but I have long accepted I won’t ever get answers to these questions. Well, that’s my story.”

It was a long story and [Y/N] was already past the age of grieve, learned to go over it with passing time. Their personality and the things taught by their master was what kept them true to themself

When [Y/N] was amused to see Jin-woo looking skeptical and Jin-ah looking like she is going to break into tears any moment

“I think that-” Jin-woo started by Jin-ah interrupted him by saying “It’s very sad that it happened with you,[Y/N]!! If you’re the guardian spirit then do you take care of the dagger as well?” making [Y/N] laugh a little before saying “I’m fine, Jin-ah. It’s been a long time and I’m very happy that I could come of the sword in my physical form after so many years. And yes! It’s because of me living inside it that the dagger is so shinny and sharp even after so many years”

Jin-woo sighs and says “Jin-ah don’t we need to make sure he is telling the truth?” to which Jin-ah huffs before saying “Hyung, you don’t need to be cruel. I have been observing [Y/N] since the time they came out and they don’t look like someone who wants to harm!!”

Jin-woo sighs even louder before saying “Just because they look innocent doesn’t mean that they would be innocent and why are you so adamant that this person isn’t a bad person?!” to which [Y/N] quietly adds “Well one more thing I forgot to add is that I can’t do much except getting out of the dagger in a physical form and make sure it’s always in a great form. Also to come out I need to be very near the dagger or else I would be forced again inside the dagger, it seems. So you can have control over what I can do” while showing how taking the dagger away from them starts to make them fade slowly

“We can’t be a bad person to someone who looks very happy to be finally being able to come outside. And if [Y/N] can’t do much in this form of their then it’s not a problem right?? If you still have doubts keep [Y/N] with you for few days and take them around Seoul so you can see if they are telling the truth! Won’t you do that hyung??” Jin-ah says while giving puppy eyes

[Y/N] suddenly perked up when they heard this and looked at Jin-woo with shining eyes before asking him “You would do that for me???” happiness radiantly from them

Jin-woo moves back a little with an unbelievable look as his little sister and [Y/N] bring their faces close to much

“Okay okay fine! I would do that!” Jin-woo says while covering his face out of frustration in a tired face as his sister cuteness along with [Y/N]’s cute eyes were too much for him

Jin-ah and [Y/N] jump around the room in victory, the dagger still in [Y/N]’s hand as they talked about what [Y/N] can look at around Seoul

Jin-woo eyes the dagger before it travels to [Y/N] face which he finally has to admit is very cute

Even if he wasn’t sure about [Y/N] he can’t just dismiss after looking at [Y/N] through this whole ordeal that they are indeed very cute not only face wise

A blush rose to his face at what he was thinking before he sighed and rested his face in his palms before thinking “What have I gotten myself into??”

»»————>❃<————««

Hello everyone this is my first ever request and I'm so happy that I'm finally done with it!! Thank you for re-reading my rules and changing your request as well! I didn't wanted to miss the chance to write for Jin-woo as my first request. I don't know how it is and if it matched what the requester wanted to miss writing this me to write(I hope so for even a little bit it did) Anyway if you want a re-written version of the request you can drop by in my ask box, I won't mind!! Also in a few days, I would be done with the other request as well so stay tuned!

[scourgewins]

Getting Along (Part 3)

(Finished at last! Hope you all enjoy this chapter! I tried to pack in as much humor, action, and suspense as I could!)

(Warnings: slight injury, fear, fighting, death mention)

Well, they didn’t die immediately, so Sammy counted that as a small win.

The inky sewage water sloshed about the musician’s lower legs. He tried not to focus on that, but it was a bit hard not to. He also tried not to think about the fact that he was inhaling toxic fumes; even while wearing the spare nose pin Jack had lent him, he could almost taste it on his tongue. How did Jack work like this? He glanced at the lyricist trudging along beside him. He seemed unbothered, though that was probably because he was geared up with both a nose pin and high, rubber boots, while Sammy was forced to slog through the muck in regular, non-water resistant shoes.

Sammy didn’t realize he’d been glaring until Jack glared back.

“What?” the lyricist said testily.

“You sure you didn’t have any extra boots?” Sammy asked for the third time.

“Positive,” Jack replied through gritted teeth.

Sammy relented and grew spitefully silent. His hand reflexively clenched and unclenched the wrench he’d grabbed before they embarked on this rescue mission. He wasn’t sure what good it would do against a massive ink monster, but it was better than going in empty-handed.

Or maybe worse, he mused, Gives you a false sense of hope.

He shook his head. No use getting pessimistic. Susie needed rescuing and that was all he needed to worry about, though the fact that this would very likely go horribly wrong and all three of them would most certainly be eaten was an irritatingly persistent thought.

Jack spoke, as if hearing Sammy’s thoughts, “We will save her, you know, despite the odds.”

“Because we have to?” Sammy asked.

“Yeah,” Jack replied, “Because we have to.”

Sammy glanced at the lyricist, who flinched at his own shadow cast by the candle in his quivering hand. He was no fighter, but neither was Sammy. Come to think of it, they really should have asked for more backup. It wasn’t like there’d be any forthcoming, though, at least not of the useful variety. The only employees that might stand a chance against the ink monster were Thomas, Lacie, and Henry, and even they might fail. Besides, Susie needed help now and hunting those three down would take up precious time they didn’t have.

So it was up to them: a lyricist spooked by his own shadow and a musician with bird-like limbs. Yeah, they were definitely going to die.

And of all the people to die beside, it had to be Jack Fain.

“What’s the plan anyway?” Sammy snapped, “Or were you just going to go in swinging and hope that would be enough?”

Jack glared at him, “Do you have a better idea?”

No. “Of course.”

“Then by all means, let’s hear it.”

Sammy realized he’d backed himself into a corner. He cleared his throat, “Well...maybe one of us could be a distraction.” Yeah, that made sense.

“Distraction?” Jack echoed dubiously.

Sammy nodded emphatically, “One of us makes lots of noise to draw the attention of the ink thing, while the other gets Susie.”

As plans went, it was a sorry excuse for one, but tactics weren’t exactly in his job description.

“So…” Jack began, “Which of us do you intend to sacrifice?”

Oh, right. “Um…”

“Because it would make sense to put forth the largest target,” Jack glanced pointedly up and down Sammy’s lanky frame, “Don’t you think?”

Sammy regretted everything, “Well...it was just a suggestion. We don’t have to go with that plan.”

“No, no, I am quite intrigued,” If he didn’t need him to rescue Susie, Sammy would have wiped that smug look off his stupid mustached face.

Not one to take things lying down all the same, Sammy opened his mouth to respond, when a quiet gurgling stopped the breath in his lungs. Slowly, he glanced up ahead. Something was moving. Squinting, he corrected that thought. Some things were moving, almost like waves in a tumultuous sea.

Both he and Jack froze in their tracks. For all their talk of rescue, their resolve was starting to wane. Okay, maybe we should have gone for backup. Susie can last a little longer, right?

As the creatures drew nearer, the musician and the lyricist could see them for what they were. Ink creatures, small but making up for their size with sheer numbers. Sammy counted twenty at least, all of them bearing down on the two hapless employees. 

Jack screamed, his grip on the candle slackening until it tipped from his hand. Sammy just barely managed to push it back into his grasp before their light was extinguished. As he did so, one of the creatures lunged. Sammy leaped to dodge its groping hand. Summoning his courage, he brought his wrench down on its slippery head. When that gave it pause, the musician struck again and again, not letting up until the creature sank back into the ink.

“I did it!” Sammy cried, before he was promptly seized by a multitude of cold, inhuman hands.

Sammy’s vocal range was actually quite high, but the noise that escaped him somehow reached new levels.

“Jack!” he screeched. He couldn’t see the lyricist. Sammy was struck with the horrible thought that Jack had abandoned him here, maybe done as Sammy himself had suggested and gone on to find Susie while there was a distraction. Or, more likely, he’d turned tail and fled.

Sammy had predicted that this rescue would be the death of him, though that didn’t mean he welcomed it. He thrashed, his feet and fists striking out at anything they could connect with. He hissed as his fist glanced off the wall, feeling the skin of his knuckles break open. And still he kept struggling. There wasn’t much choice.

Just as he felt his strength ebbing, his foot jabbed into something unexpected. It was soft but solid and gave a faint “Oof!” as it stumbled back.

Sammy had never been more relieved to hear that voice.

“Jack!”

“Sammy!”

A flicker of glorious light marked where Jack stood. Sammy could barely make him out as the lyricist plunged forward. The rescue was made a little less heroic due to Jack’s squeals whenever an ink monster reached for him, but as Sammy felt a warm, thoroughly human hand grab his wrist, he couldn’t care less.

“Run!” Jack cried. Sammy didn’t need to be told twice. The two booked it back the way they came. Neither paused to check whether they were being followed. Only one thing mattered to them right now: escape.

Soon, another light grew closer. Sammy recognized Jack’s little haven in the wall where he worked. Sprinting past it, they leaped out of the sewers and made a dash for the stairs that led into the infirmary and out of the sewers.

Sammy’s relief only lasted a moment. Jack and him slewed to a halt, staring in horror.

The stairs were completely blocked. Stacks of wooden beams and heavy pipes dripping with ink had all been piled high in front. It would take ages to free themselves

“How did…” Jack paused for breath, “How did they do this?”

Sammy had no response. There was none. Ink monsters, in theory, shouldn’t have been capable of trapping them like this. Sammy’s knowledge on the subject may have been limited, but he’d have thought that much was true. He was wrong.

“What are we going to do?” Jack shrieked, “We’re trapped! We can’t get help! Susie’s still lost somewhere in there! We...We’re going to die down here!”

Sammy still didn’t know how to reply, but he was saved the attempt as he heard the gurgling noises approach.

“Quick!” He shoved Jack into a small corner directly across from the stairs. It was a poor hiding place, but so long as the ink creatures didn’t think to check over here, they’d be safe.

He heard them grow closer. Jack’s breathing had grown erratic, so Sammy clapped a hand over his mouth. Ordinarily, Jack would have shoved him away, but the lyricist just remained stone still, eyes wide and terrified. Sammy imagined he wore much the same expression.

After what seemed like hours, the gurgling began to grow fainter, until it faded altogether as the ink creatures splashed back into the sewer. Sammy didn’t move for some long moments after. Jack’s shaking fingers pulled at the hand over his mouth and Sammy at last snatched his hand away. For a while, all either of them could manage were shivering breaths.

Swallowing thickly, Jack spoke at least, “What are we going to do?” He repeated his question of before.

And again, Sammy had no answer.

[sunset-curve-fantom]

Don’t-  Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: I TRIED SOMETHING NEW, SO I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY!

WARNING- SMUT, 18+ MATERIAL. DO NOT READ UNDER THE AGE OF 18

This mission was different than most, only four of you had been chosen to dive into the world of Hydra and attempt to extract valuable information to take Hydra down. Steve and Buck were on the other side of the compound while Sam and yourself were on the other side attempting to breach the communication center to take over their eyes and ears.

Bullets whizzed past your head as you turned down a darkened hallway, the gasp that escaped your lips seemed deadly as you reloaded you weapon. You could hear the assailants getting closer to your corner as you continued to reload as fast as your human body could move. You may be assassin but you could only move so quickly.

As you went to make your move, aiming for their heads. Sam went to pull you back, in his eyes back to safety, in yours to be a pain in the ass.

“Let me go, now.” You gritted through your teeth as his grip loosened, you went to turn the corner again but only came face to face with Bucky and Steve. They had taken down every assailant before turning to you, taking in your annoyed expression.

The glare you were sending their way was fatal, they did this every single time. Every time they thought you wouldn’t be able to handle the heat on your own. So of course, this is nothing different, but this time you weren’t biting your tongue about it.

“I had it; you should have let me finish this damn mission.” You grunted, pushing past them before making your way to the Quinjet.

You sat in your seat, running your battered hands through your long hair. You could feel blood running down your cheeks, most likely from a cut on your forehead, as your hair kept sticking to it.

“Dammit” You said, throwing your gear across the Quinjet, the anger still radiating off of you as you heard the guys loading their stuff back onto the jet before heading back to Stark Tower.

“You good?” Sam asked as he took a seat next to you before Bucky and Steve loaded up.

You were holding back tears as you looked at him, “Honestly- no. I am so over feeling un-helpful when I know I’m good at my job. I know I can do this. But he thinks I can’t- The fucking Winter Solider, my own damn boyfriend thinks I can’t do my own job. And now I am too the point I want to leave.” You said, a single tear running down your cheek as you made eye contact with Sam.

He just gave you this look of sadness, “Don’t do that, you can’t leave.”

“Can’t leave what?” Bucky said trying to catch your eyes and you looked to the floorboards. He was trying to read your face, but you weren’t going to give anything away- not to him.

“None of your business, Barnes” You hissed at him as he sulked into his seat next to Steve as the Quinjet was being fired up.

You just closed your eyes trying not to focus on the events of today, you just wanted to be back at the tower and in your room away from everyone else.

Before you knew it the Quinjet was touching down again, the rough landing drew you from your slumber. You looked around checking your surroundings before gathering your things.

You quickly stepped out of the jet, making your way to your room. You were halfway off the helipad before someone grabbed your arm, spinning you towards them.

Of course, it was no other than Sargent James Buchanan Barnes, the man who you love when he doesn’t turn into a complete ass.

“What is the problem? I saved you ass back there” He said, glaring down at me.

“You- you are my fucking problem” You said, tearing your arm away from him and made your way back to your room in the tower.

You could not make it to your room faster, the door sliding behind you brought the blissful silence that you so deeply needed. A loud sigh escaped past your lips as you laid down your gear, carefully stripping off your uniform. Gasping as it slipped past a large bruise forming on your upper shoulder.

You made your way to your large bathroom, turning the shower on the steam quickly filling the large space. Looking in the mirror, you took in your appearance. An expansive cut was your forehead, dried blood stuck to your forehead and cheeks, even the evidence of a black eye forming.

A sigh escaped your lips as you stepped under the steaming water, the hot feeling good on your bruised and battered body. The water slowly turning a reddish-brown color due to the blood streaming off your body.

Closing your eyes, you just thought about the mission and how you wish it had gone differently. You knew you could handle the mission, but of course Buck thought you can’t do anything without breaking a nail or accidentally shooting yourself in the foot.

You just shook your head trying to focus on anything else but the mission and how you were being treated. The bubbles from your shampoo mixed with the steamy water, as you just tried to relax.

Could you really step away from the Avengers? Could you really just leave this new world? Could you step away from Bucky forever?

You left out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding in as you turned the water off, your stomach growled as you dried yourself off. Trying to think about what tomorrow could bring, you threw on your pajamas, also meaning shorts and a large hoodie with fuzzy socks.

You tossed your wet hair over your shoulder as you made your way to the kitchen, just praying that everyone was still in their rooms or even better asleep. You could hear the peanut butter calling your name as you rounded the corner, only to come face to face with the one person you were trying to avoid.

“Hey Baby” He said, looking up from his files that were spread around the kitchen island, multiple pictures of former Hydra members scattered around with their own individual files.

You barely looked at him as you opened the kitchen cabinet, pulling out the crunchy peanut butter and a spoon. Leaning against the counter you just kept sparing him looks as his brow was scrunched together as he read more of his files.

“You want to stop looking at me or are you going to talk to me?” He grumbled at you, looking up from his files. The bruising on his face was noticeable, and so was the split lip he was sporting. Clearly you weren’t the only one who had some reminders of today’s mission.

You just smirked at him, you were annoyed with him and you weren’t going to engage in whatever he thought he was going to get away with saying to you.

Placing your spoon in the sink, you started to stroll back out of the kitchen just barely passing Bucky. You felt his metal hand wrap around your wrist, making you stop in place.

“I don’t want to talk to you” You said bluntly, trying to pull your already bruised wrist out of his cold hand.

“Well too bad- we need to talk about today. Cause you clearly have some kind of problem with me and how I do my job on missions” He said, turning towards you before standing to his feet causing you to step back as his height overtook your small frame.

“I don’t want to talk about this with you. I have absolutely nothing to say about today. I don’t want to talk to you, okay? Get that through your head please. I am so tired of people trying to protect me and keep me from doing my job. So please- leave me the hell alone Buck.” You said, standing your ground. It was a clear a fight was coming, and you didn’t have the energy to even try to defend yourself or your actions.

“I was trying to protect you! And everyone else on that mission, that is something we need to talk about. Not you ignore me because you’re mad at me cause I stepped in your way. You know I couldn’t live with myself if something was to happen to you.” He said, trying to step towards you more but you kept stepping back away from him.

“Are you kidding me? You think you are so high and mighty, and you aren’t Bucky. You aren’t as special as you think you are! I was perfectly fine until you stepped in my way! I know how to do my job, but I cannot do it when you are all over me.” You finally screamed at him, clearly frustrated by the man you had come to care and love.

“Maybe next time don’t try and get yourself killed! Then maybe I wouldn’t be so obligated to come save your stupid ass” He screamed back, watching the tears stream down your face.

You let out a deep breath, tears continuing to dampen your flustered cheeks, you turned towards the door attempting to walk away from this toxic situation.

You wanted nothing more than to escape this tower, escape from him and his ego. You were just so done.

Before you could pass through the doorway- his metal hand wrapped around your bruised wrist, spinning you close into his chest.

“Let me go Bucky” The anger evident in your voice and you attempted to pull your wrist away from him.

His eyes darkened as he looked at you, analyzing every feature of your face before speaking.

“That’s Sargent to you.” A smirk appearing on his face as he closed the distant between you, his lips on yours as the metallic taste of blood danced on your tongue from his split lip.

A slight moan escaped from your lips as the kiss continued to intensify, you gently pulled at his matted hair causing a guttural sound to escape his lips. His lips pulled away slowly looking for the sweet spot under your jaw that makes you go crazy.

“Oh Buck…” You moaned loudly, your voice bouncing off the kitchen walls. It would like your moan was in utter surround sound.

He pulled away, darkened eyes looking deep into your eyes before speaking in a low tone, “That’s not my name angel.”

You leaned in close, your hot breath hitting his ear, “Oh I’m sorry…. Sargent Barnes”

A shutter rippled through his body as he threw you over his shoulder, making his way over to Tony’s new and very expensive couch. Tossing you down, the armrest digging into your bruised back, only causing a moan to escape from you.

“Tony is going to kill us…” You moaned as he rutted his hips against yours, slowly grinding against your clothed heat. But that only added to the pleasure as you were already dripping wet.

“I don’t care” He silently moaned against your ear, as he found his way to your sweet spot under your jaw once again. Leaving a liter of hickey’s as he made his way down your body, slowly stripping you of your hoodie. Your nipples becoming hard as the cold air rushed onto your exposed skin.

A low moan escaped from you as he made his way down your neck before working his way to your breasts. He shot you a small glance as he took one of your nipples into his mouth, the contact sending your eyes to roll back into your head. The pleasure taking over your body, you were ready to give everything to this man.

You grinded your hips against his, your juices continuing to leak from you as you were a moaning mess under him. He made his way back up to your lips, kissing them so gently as he stripped off his shirt, and began to remove your shorts which barely covered anything.

You let out a shaky breath as he grazed your clit with his metal fingers, which only caused a ripple of pleasure to travel through you. He couldn’t help but smirk at the bucking of your hips.

“You’re leaking baby” He said, rubbing his thumb across your clit almost too slow for your liking. He knew exactly what he was doing as he continued to press his thumb into your clit, as he slowly enters two fingers into your leaking cunt. You couldn’t help yourself as your eyes rolled back into your head, the pleasure building inside of you.

Your legs began to tremble as your orgasm was quickly approaching, you could hear the wet sounds of your cunt as he continued to press his fingers deep inside of you, hitting your most sensitive spot.

“Please- I’m gonna…Sargent…” You began to pant out as your legs continue to tremble even more.

“Go.” Was all he had to say before you came undone under him, you became a mess of moans as you felt your cunt pulse around his fingers as he continued to pump in and out of you.

“I need you…” You said as you grinded your leaking cunt against his hand even more, he couldn’t help but groan as he fished his thick length out of his sweats. His tip was swollen, and red with precum started to leak.

He stroked himself a few times before guiding himself to your opening, stretching your cunt to accommodate his size. He gave you no time to adjust before he began thrusting into you at a fast speed.

The frantic pace was too much for your pleasure riddled body as you could feel your cunt started to pulse again, your orgasm was only seconds away. You arched your back as the orgasm began to overwhelm your body, sending your eyes straight back into your head.

He threw his head back as he felt his high approaching, he just took in the glorious appearance under him as you continued to fall apart under him.

“I’m close” He moaned as he continued to hit your sensitive spot with such force, only causing the pleasure to increase even more.  

“Fill me up....” Was all you worked out in-between your panting. He smiled down at you before snapping his hips one more time, spilling hit warm seed deep inside of you. Only causing you to pulse even more around his throbbing dick.

He collapsed on top of you, just taking in this moment and taking in you.

“I love you… only you” You said as you pushed his matted, sweaty hair out of his face. A smile appeared on his face, as he pressed his lips to yours, hard.

“I love you so much” He said, brushing your wet hair out of your face, taking in every feature as he continued to study you.

You opened your mouth to say something when a voice came over the loudspeaker, “Mr. Stark would like to inform you that you owe him a new couch And also to say that was more than disturbing”

You both couldn’t help but laugh as the loudspeaker cut out again. In a world where the Winter Solider used to be nothing but a killer. Here he is now, in all his glory as the one man who would do anything to keep your safe.

TAGLIST FOR MARVEL:

@ghostofreggie @imsydneywalker @thee-ava-mariee​ @dancethroughthethunder

[itssuppertim3]

Lean (Miraak x Reader):

Contemplating on writing for Pyramid Head every once in a while since I can't get the thick bastard off my mind but we'll see what the future brings

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"Do you like winter, Miraak?" I asked the man strolling quietly beside me. "Not necessarily. However, I remember a time when I did. My temple always felt a bit warmer-- more enjoyable during that time." I snorted at him in amusement, to which he wasn't fond of. "I just imagined you stringing up holiday decor." He merely scoffed in denial, though we both knew it was true.

While searching for another conversation topic, my foot slid against the mud beneath me. "Careful," Miraak warned as his hands clasped firmly around my shoulders. My breath was trapped in my throat from the sudden startle, but somehow he only made it worse. Once my voice came back to me, I said, "uh...-- yeah. Thank you." Damn, his hands were so warm. I could feel the heat emitting from them even through my armor. Alas, the soothing feeling dissappeared as soon as he retracted his arms.

"Honestly, I'm surprised you hadn't already cracked your skull before I came along. It seems that you are always tripping and stumbling wherever you go." I scratched my cheek and chuckled sheepishly. "Ah, you know me so well."

"That is only because I stand witness to it," he uttered. We continued onward to Morthal in silence. A week ago, Jarl Idgrod sent me a letter of assistance; "potential murdurer on the loose," it had read. She noted that she wasn't one to fall victim to senseless gossip, but over the last several days she had been growing paranoid of the situation. Thus, she requested us to investigate. "I wonder why the jarl wants two dragonborn to take care of a killer instead of the guards? Gods, I feel like most of the soldiers are just using this pitiful war as an excuse to be lazy," I grumbled with my arms crossing.

"I agree. Though as far as I'm concerned, she wants you to handle it, not I." I perked up at his remark. "What do you mean? Everyone should know by now that you're just as powerful as I am. We've been traveling together for three months." Miraak diverted his gaze from me and pointed it straight ahead. "Perhaps, but you and I are still very different from one another. The people of Skyrim view you as a hero to be remembered for ages, whereas I will forever be remembered as a traitor-- if I was even remembered at all." The atmosphere around us suddenly became very dim. For a moment, the only noise that could be heard was the mire sloshing under our boots.

"That's bullshit," I retorted finally. Miraak was taken aback by my sudden change of attitude. "Excuse my language, but it is. Look at all of the good you've done since we've been together! We took down a vampire lord for crying out loud! And yeah, we weren't thanked for it or anything--"

"Y/n."

"But that doesn't matter. What does matter is that you put in a lot of effort to make the world safer, and I think that deserves respect."

"Y/n." By now, Miraak was no longer walking at my side. "What is it?" Before he was able to respond, the muddy ground had fallen loose beneath me and I plummeted into a brown socket of water. Oh yeah, I forgot that we were trudging through a swamp. The filth shot through my mouth and nose as I was completely sumberged. To make matters worse, the water was also incredibly frigid, making it even more difficult to sort through my panic. A pair of arms dove into the murk and proceeded to yank me up by my collar.

I gurgled, spluttered, and heaved strong breaths once I was dragged out of harm's way. Miraak shook his head at me all the while. I could practically feel the smirk hiding under his mask. "Oh, yeah. Real funny. Please continue... to remind me of how much... of a klutz I am," I rasped, still trying to flow air into my lungs. "I did try to warn you, you know. You were about to walk straight into the pond," the man defended. "Ok. I'll give you that." Miraak helped me to my feet after I finally regained my composure. "Oh, great," I sighed at the muck covering me head-to-toe. "I look so unprofessional." He skimmed over the grime coated over my outfit before scooping a clump of mud and smearing some over his robes. "I suppose we'll both have to look unprofessional, then." My cheeks tainted a dark pink at his actions, but I decided to blame it on the nip in the air.

My arms hugged my body when I started to shiver. Going for a dip in late autumn definitely wasn't the best of choices. Miraak scanned over the map and pinpointed our distance from Morthal. "We won't be able to arrive there before nightfall. We still have an hour left to go," he informed. I groaned to myself in reply. "Guess we'll have to make camp, then." He nodded, gesturing me to follow him.

In a matter of minutes, he had already secured a decent campfire and was now assembling the tent. Meanwhile, I was sitting on a nearby log with my bedroll enveloped around my trembling body. I was enjoying watching him, though. "I'd say you're a natural. When did you get so skilled at camping?" I inquired once he took a seat next to me. "By learning from you," he stated simply. Gods, how could he be such a jerk yet act so charming?! I avoided saying anything more and began scrubbing the dirt from my armor with a wet rag.

It was freezing, tonight. There was no comforting glow from the moon and stars due to the thick layer of clouds overhead, which only made it feel colder. I shuddered when a breeze travelled through the area and tormented my body. I was still wearing my undershirt and trousers, and even those were still damp. The cloth made my fingers sting the more I used it, until I felt Miraak's hand take ahold of my own. "Your fingers are red," were the only words that left his mouth before he grabbed my other hand and squeezed them both gently. I was so shocked by this that I couldn't even so much as blink. "Are you cold?" I had forgotten about the prickles climbing over my skin. "Um--uhh, kind of." How did my voice become so small?

Before I could protest, I was pulled closer to Miraak. And now that I left exposed, he felt even warmer than he did earlier. I wasn't even touching him! Not to mention how nice his hands felt. He was like a portable smelter! I stayed more silent than a moth as he continued to caress my fingers and palms. There was no telling what was going on inside of that brain of his.

"You may lean against me, if you like."

Oh.

Oh!

My heart was thrashing around inside of my chest. He wanted me to just... slide even closer and lean on him?! Just like that?! By now, my mind was spiraling in both confusion and embarrassment. Still, I was very cold. There wasn't any harm in doing it, right? He was the one who offered. I ultimately accepted his proposal.

It started off with our knees touching awkardly, and then with my head attempting to rest against his shoulder, which failed due to the golden scales protruding out from his sleeve and jabbing me in the side of the head. Miraak eventually lifted his arm, inviting me to scooch under it-- to which I did. As soon as I got situated, he let his hand ease onto my shoulder. I was so flustered that I could barely breathe. It was suffocating, practically unbearable, yet I only felt myself nestling further into him. "You're really warm," I mumbled.

Oh, dear.

Why on Nirn did I say that? I sounded like a pervert!!! What if he thought I was creepy?! My heart dropped as he held me still and turned to look at me. "Y/n, how do you feel?" It was made to be a question, but it sounded more of a demand. I sat tense for a long while, lips parted yet unmoving. "About...?" I gulped when he slowly placed my hand flat against his chest. I could feel his heart throbbing at a rapid pace, as was mine. "Me."

Miraak's voice was low and sounded on edge. Perhaps he was more nervous than I thought he was? My next movements were reckless. Recklessness seemed to be my only sense of courage, right now. I carefully drew his hand towards me and slipped off his glove. He didn't stop me, however his muscles twitched under my touch. I stared at his pale skin for a long while. It was decorated with veins and had a scar stretched over his knuckles. Thanks to the protection of his gloves, his fingernails were in prestine condition. In short, his hands were utterly glorious.

I tilted my face down and pressed my lips against his scar, leaving him breathless. "Does that answer your question?" I asked Miraak with a flushed grin. Without responding, he brushed his thumb over my cheek and felt the entirety of my features. His hand was so calloused and smoothe! I cupped my own against it, keeping it there for as long as possible. Once again, I was pulled into another embrace, this one being much tighter and affectionate. Neither of us decided to speak, and somehow it felt more befitting that way.

With my head resting against Miraak's chest, I could hear his heartbeat quite clearly. It was much slower compared to earlier, more soothing than anything. He wasn't very sure where to place his hands, so he kept one firm on my waist and the other rubbing my hair. Sure, my face was hotter than a bonfire and there was still panic fresh on my mind. Then again, I also felt so calm in his arms. This may have been the first time in my life where I actually felt normal. Everything around me simply fell into place. It was selfish of me to inwardly beg for this moment to never end. As a dragonborn, I had my responsibilites, but for now I kicked those responsibilities aside. I had the right to be selfish every now and then.

"Maybe I should go diving into swamps more often," I teased, breaking through the comfortbale silence. I felt my heart flutter in the midst of him vibrating a soft chuckle. "That would certainly be an entertaining idea. Though I might not get the same reaction from you each time." I peered up at my new love interest with a quirked brow. "What kind of reaction?" In one swift motion, Miraak nudged up his mask to his nose and blessed me with a kiss. It was quick and simple, hardly lingering over my lips in time for me to process it. It was as if I had just imagined it!

Even so, the blush stained on my cheeks was already spreading to my ears. This man was a complete menace. His mask was already tipped back down, but the coy smile he was holding was evident. "You bastard," I hissed. He only shrugged his shoulders at me. "If you fall into the swamp again, I may even give you another kiss," Miraak jested. I proceeded to whack his bicep.

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I bet Miraak got those plump ass lips :^3