#and yet! if i dwell on it i will become a clear and present danger to myself and those around me

[vivvy-an]

whole day ruined!

[tuiyla]

I would love any and all Buffy thoughts you’d be willing to gift us <3

ashjjkksa alright haha, I'm writing a season 1 summary of sorts that's mostly just me musing about the nature of cult TV shows and their legacies and also reminiscing about the year 1997, even though I was a literal fetus barely in the second trimester when Buffy first started airing.

I will just say a miscellaneous thought here and it's that I hope the show doesn't become too cheap with death, you know? that's the danger when death is so ubiquitous in your TV show and such a huge part of the horror factor. Death has to matter and for the most part I think season 1 stuck to that and scenes like the AV club massacre, or rather discovery of were visceral but also Cordelia got over the death of someone she was starting to love suuper fast. The balance felt a little off, between Willow being so shell-shocked and nothing being said about Cordy's trauma afterwards. Students are dying left right and center at Sunnydale and it's got to have a punch every time otherwise what's the point of Buffy trying to keep people safe. I know that's hyperbolic and to be clear I don't think the show has a big problem so far but I also hope it doesn't develop one. Where the audience is so grotesquely used to minor characters dropping like flies the sense of danger is just not present.

Idk like I think my biggest gripe is Jesse, supposed best friend of Xander never being brought up again even though Xander had to finish the vampire Jesse off himself. Maybe that's just a very very early thing they didn't want to dwell on but a series like this needs to manage that delicate balance between violence being everpresent and yet the situation having, well, pun not intended but stakes. I wish the school wasn't so blasé about half the student population being slaughtered over the span of just a few months.

That's basically a nitpick and probs not the Buffy thought you were hoping for haha sorry, I'll try to actually write that s1 post and let me know your thoughts.

[jedijourneys]

Kallia’s Journal; Entry Twenty

It had been quite some time since Kallia had dressed in such a way, draped in pale, glistening robes and protected by segmented plates of sturdy armor. At her side was not the lightsaber she had built with her own hands, but rather the weapon of a Temple Guard. Perhaps it was inevitable that she would nose her way back into the program, given her instinctively protective nature. For now, though, the robes are stained in blood, the armor scratched and battered, and as she pulls the hood and mask from her muscled frame, skin is marred by angry scars, the remnants of a gruesome battle.

“The Enclave on Voss was attacked.” Her voice cuts through the silence of the dimly lit room. She had been present in the fight against the Gormak nearly a week ago, and so this invasion had hardly been a surprise. The Sith Lord who consistently stood in the path of the Jedi on Voss had finally launched the violent finality of his vicious plan. Cybernetic beasts and Sith tainted the walls of the Enclave with blood and darkness, yet the Jedi endured, as was their purpose. The guard had stood stalwart and unyielding, despite the odds. In the end, the attack had been repelled, though not without loss.

“One of the attackers died in the battle, an accidental fatality when one of the Guards knocked her back against the stone. I won’t forget the sickening crunch of her skull any time soon, and I can’t help but wonder if death will ever get any easier to manage. It is always regrettable that some must die in the pursuit of peace.” Kallia frowns, though she’s hardly traumatized by the event. This was not her first fight, and this was not her first experience with death. Perhaps she had become hardened in her growth, or perhaps she simply understood that there was no point in dwelling on it.

“The remaining Sith were captured, including the Lord. Not before he fried most of us, though.” She peers down at her armor, battered as it was. Tam’a’ryth and Kera had healed the gruesome wounds caused by the electricity and rock debris, but the pain of it was still a raw memory, something that could not be forgotten so soon. Nonetheless, the padawan had always been a stubborn girl. She would not hesitate in the face of darkness, no matter the injury that facing such danger might cause. Her duty was clear. It left no room for cowardice. The force was the greatest ally that one could ask for, and the Jedi Code was a mantra that filled her spirit with strength.

She had grown, no longer the wild and daring young woman of her past. She was disciplined and experienced. Her optimism has persisted through her hardships and her training, but none could deny just how seriously Kallia took her duties as both a Jedi, and a Temple Guard.

“The Voss sentenced the Sith to death, but we’d be foolish to believe that the man had not survived. Throwing a trained Sith or Jedi off of a cliff is hardly an effective method of killing. The Voss are likely unaware of that.” The padawan draws out a sigh, though she does not allow any dreadful feelings to linger. No, she lets such emotions flutter away to fade into the surrounding force. “But the Jedi will remain vigilant. When next this Sith rears his head, we will be ready.” She decides in conclusion.

[velidewrites]

We Could Pretend to Form an Attachment | Chapter 1 | ACOTAR Writing Circle

Elucien x Bridgerton AU

Summary: Desperate to escape the ton's expectations, Elain Archeron makes an unlikely arrangement with a handsome stranger.

Pairing: Elain Archeron x Lucien Vanserra

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: None

Note: This is Chapter 1 of a collaborative project, the ACOTAR Writing Circle organised by the wonderful @azrielshadowssing! This means the next two parts of this fic will be written by other authors, and you'll be able to find them via the official masterlist.

***

“Frankly, sister, I could care less for your spontaneity,” Nesta leaned back, nails tapping on the sofa’s arm. “But I’ll be damned before I let your false sense of liberty ruin your own future.”

Elain lowered her eyes to where slender fingers drummed against the polished wood. “I’m entitled to a free will,” she countered. “Even as a woman.” Her voice was clear, quiet as it echoed through the small room.

Waving a hand in dismissal, Nesta scoffed. “Save your forward-thinking for someone else, Elain. Last time I checked, a woman’s will had only mattered if she was married, which you decidedly are not.”

Elain was aware of that, perhaps just as well as she understood her sister’s rather forward interference in her life. For the past month, the house had been filled with eligible gentlemen, mostly nobility though she’d had a good number of the more well-off members of high society inquiring after her interest. All had been suitable options, some of them more than she’d cared to admit, but Elain Archeron was not ready for marriage—not yet, at least. Had the choice been entirely up to her, she would have long stopped dwelling in her homeland, probably pursuing her dream of travelling instead. She could picture it so clearly—just her and a small suitcase, leaving for the Continent, ready for an adventure of a lifetime.

Reality had a way of blurring such images, regrettably, and fading them out into unreachable distance. Elain’s lips were a thin line as her gaze swept over the room, from the worn-out velvet of the couches to the scraped marble of the floor under their dining table. The cream-coloured paint had begun peeling off the walls just over two years ago, around the time their father had sold the last of their land to Lord Nolan. Nesta despised him for that—the distinguished Lord Archeron, foregoing his family’s long-established heritage for coin, one he could have easily made had he mustered up the disposition to fulfil his duties as its warden. 

It seemed as though his duties hardly mattered anymore, let alone the esteemed title bestowed upon their family—ever since their mother had passed, at least. Lady Archeron had been known by society as a woman valuing status over affection, reputation over revelry, propriety over gossip. It had not been uncommon, however, for her to indulge in the occasional, harmless chitchat with the other Ladies—her lackeys if nothing more, Nesta had used to call them on more than one occasion, following Lady Archeron’s every step, swooning is she’d so much as breathed in their direction. A former diamond of the season, Elain’s mother had been a great beauty, shining brighter than any lady in her time. Elain supposed it to be the reason she’d amassed such notorious coterie, though Nesta would always assure her their mother’s friends cared very little for her presentation as opposed to the prestige her acquaintance would grant them. The Archeron name used to mean something when she was around, Nesta had told Elain shortly after her death. I worry what is to become of us.

An attempt at finding a good match for her sister was nothing more than means for Nesta to repair the crumbling status of the family. A mere title of nobility meant very little when accompanied by nothing but a single estate that seemed to decay along with their reputation. Marriage could very well be the perfect route to not only re-entering the highest ranks of society, but to filling in accounts that had begun emptying out dangerously quick.

As if she had found a way inside her mind, Nesta added in a softer tone, “Finding a match for you is the only way, Elain. You’d see it, too, if you only opened your eyes. Better yet, if you put them to good use. You could bat your eyelashes at any established Lord, and our family would find itself in much less trouble as of present.”

Elain scowled. “Don’t patronise me, sister. I am quite capable of understanding the seriousness of our situation myself.” 

Nesta didn’t flinch, ice-blue eyes surveying Elain’s face. “You certainly don’t show it.”

Elain stiffened in her seat.

Silence enveloped the room, the air around them heavier somehow as she focused on drawing a long, calming breath.

Elain wanted to marry—she truly did, but no matter what Nesta had chosen to believe, her refusal to hasten the process was not an attempt to spite her family. That’s what it would become—a process. A calculated pursuit of a match, every step of it overseen by the watchful eye of her eldest sister, if not the entire ton, desperate for a shred of entertainment after the cold and lengthy days of winder. Elain had hardly wished to become a source of gossip for the shallow ladies and their disinterested husbands, sure to hear all about her debutante endeavours. She didn’t care if Nesta thought her foolish for romanticising what she herself called business and nothing more, but Elain was smart enough to not adopt the same approach when society was concerned.

A scandal would have left their family in utter ruin, far worse than the slow misery they’d been drowning in for the last couple of years. Any poorly-selected gown, any improperly-carried conversation, any little stumble on her part would certainly become the talk of the ton, gripping the pages of Lady Suriel with their rapacious hands as if they’d held a step-by-step guide to infinite riches or eternal life. The ton thrived on scandal if nothing less, and Elain was the last one to want to become the centre of such unfavourable attention.

Her head hurt. She knew her sister well enough to know Nesta would not back down, set on redeeming their family name, and she’d eventually be made a debutante no matter what arguments she’d manage to bring forward. Looking out the window to the blooming rhododendrons, a lush, vibrant mix of violets and pinks, Elain found herself wishing to be anywhere but the stuffy room, where the scent of dust and dry paint lingered in the air, battling the fresh, flowery breeze that failed to make its way inside. Her garden was one of the only well-preserved aspects of the small Archeron estate—once kept by professionals, now maintained by Elain’s nurturing hands. She’d been busier than ever in the springtime, ensuring that life would return to her plants completely undisturbed. For Nesta, unfortunately, the spring had only meant one thing: the Debutante Season was approaching—and quickly.

“All I’m saying, sister,” Nesta said, finally breaking the silence, “is that this is a good opportunity.” Elain shuddered at the way she dragged out the words. An opportunity. Business and nothing more.

Nesta continued, “It could do wonders for both you and our family. And to be perfectly blunt— ”

“You’re always blunt,” Elain interjected.

“To be perfectly blunt,” Nesta pressed, ignoring her comment completely, “I don’t understand what it is you’re so afraid of. Men adore you. Don’t you remember how smitten Lord Greysen was a couple years ago?”

Elain went deathly still.

No one in the ton, including her own family, knew what exactly had gone down between Lady Elain Archeron and Lord Greysen Nolan, son of the same nobleman that their father had sold the land to. Elan was more than inclined to keep it that way, for more than her own sake.

At mere seventeen years of age, she hadn’t known any better. About to be introduced to society as a darling debutante, Elain had been elated when a handsome young lord had approached her with intentions of courting. Nothing but the perfect gentleman, Greysen had made declarations of a future she’d been dreaming about ever since she’d learned how to dream—just the two of them, happy and in love. He’d promised her a garden—ten times the size of the Archeron estate, he’d said—where she’d grow flowers of beauty and grandeur that impressed His Majesty himself, flowers of lands on the Continent, where they bloomed with radiance that equaled the sun colours that rivalled the most spectacular of sunsets. Elain couldn’t help but fall for him.

She’d lived to regret that choice.

The moment her father had closed the deal with the Nolans, Greysen had vanished off the face of the earth, only to return weeks later with a wife he’d brought from across the sea. A lady of great beauty, Clarissa Montesere—Nolan now, of course—had ensured the ton had quickly forgotten every time they’d seen Lady Archeron on a promenade with her husband; that they’d forgotten Lady Archeron overall. Frankly, Elain was more thankful than anything for the favour. She wished she’d forgotten the man herself.

Perhaps her past with Greysen was part of the reason for her hesitance. She hadn’t even entered society as its debutante before she’d managed to get her heart broken. Besides, with the men out to win the hand of the most eligible lady—one with the largest dowry, that is—Elain had hardly had the chance to be any competition. Pain and disappointment seemed to be the only “opportunities” awaiting her had she opened her heart again.

Nesta did not need to know that, though. Let her think her foolish, Elain decided, which is why she said, “I refuse to be paraded in front of men like a prize to be won.”

Her sister’s blue-grey eyes narrowed in a frown. “It’s the debutante season, Elain. This is as much of a hunt for you as it is for those men. If you play your cards right, that is.”

“I do not wish to hunt for anything, and I am not planning to.”

Nesta sighed. “Indulge in your delusions of great love all you want to, dear sister, but you and I both know that eventually, you will have to settle. And every year you put it off, you reduce your chances for a good match—one that you deserve.”

Elain chewed on her bottom lip, plush and soft despite the musty air around them. “Feyre isn’t married, and she’s seventeen,” she said in her last, desperate attempt. “She is of age.”

“And you are nineteen, Elain. Nineteen. You could have been married for a year now, had you only tried.”

She didn’t say that she had tried. With Greysen, she really had. At seventeen, he’d promised her the world. He was the one who’d introduced her to travels, had shown her maps of lands far beyond her own, gifted her books that described the beauty contained within. And then, once he’d gotten what he wanted, he was gone, leaving her with remnants of a life that could have been.

She hadn’t laid with him, thankfully. But they’d found ways to be alone, with no chaperone in sight, on more than one occasion. Had they been discovered, there would be no more future for Elain to dream of—good or bad, her life would have been left in ruin.

“Please, Nesta. I—”

“I am the Lady of this house, Elain. I only wish what is best for my family.”

Unable to help herself, Elain snorted. “You can play Lady of the house as much as you want, sister, but you are not Mother and you never will be.”

Nesta stilled. “And you should be glad of the fact,” she said tightly. “Mother would have sold you off to the first Lord that came here knocking.”

“Which is exactly what you’re trying to do,” Elain seethed. “But as long as Father lives, you don’t get to make the decisions, don’t get to act like the Archeron title is yours to wield.”

“Watch me,” Nesta’s teeth flash. “Father is useless—”

“And even after he dies,” Elain continued, voice dripping with disdain, “You won’t have any claim over our estate unless you marry. Which, need I remind you, you still have not even attempted to do!”

Nesta rose from her seat, her face a picture of authority that made Elain see red.

She’d never opposed her sister so openly before. But Nesta was the oldest of the three Archeron sisters, twenty-one years of age, unmarried. She could have found a perfect match for herself without an issue—hers was a devastating kind of beauty that could have secured the affection of any lord she pleased, had she not decorated it with an everlasting grimace. She could have pulled them out of their misery with a single look towards an eligible gentleman, yet she’d opted to play matchmaker for anyone but herself.

Elain stood as well, allowing her simmering anger to guide her instincts as she took a step closer. “Why don’t you start taking care of your own affairs before you interfere with my own,” she advised through gritted teeth. Unladylike, perhaps, but she hardly cared.

Nesta held her stare, not even a shred of remorse clouding her beautiful features. “I have sacrificed,” she began, her tone unwavering, “everything. I could have married years ago, could have left the two of you with a man who would have sent you off to any suitor that offered to take the burden off his hands.”

Elain swallowed hard, something cold putting out the fire down in the pit of her stomach. She’d remembered noblemen, ones that had come from the most esteemed families of their land, practically signing off all of their riches for Nesta to offer so much as a shred of attention. She had just become a debutante, sixteen years old and more beautiful than any other ladies bore by the ton. But their mother had only just passed, and Elain had always assumed—

“I could have had the prince with a mere nod of my head,” Nesta said, her chin held high. “And yet, I chose to stay in this ruin to ensure my sisters would have the best kind of future life had to offer. Because that is exactly what they deserved.” 

Elain paled, feeling lightheaded as her thoughts began emptying out.

Nesta had been the diamond of her season, yes, with too many suitors fighting for her hand to count. But she’d never accepted any of them—even their father had found her too intimidating to push for any arrangement to be finalised. Elain had always thought Nesta to think herself above her options, but now…

With the years, less and less suitors would arrive at the Archeron estate, begging for an audience with the eldest of the Lord’s daughters. Elain began to see what her sister had been talking about—no matter how great her beauty was, time would discourage even the most determined of men.

“I will let you waste away in this house no longer,” Nesta said, aiming for the doorway. “Tomorrow, we shall visit the seamstress to take your measurements. I will see my sister married and well off by the end of the season.”

And with that, she was gone.

***

Standing in front of the grand, ornate doors, Elain’s heart was sure to leap out of her chest.

About to be presented to the King with the other debutantes, she was a heaving mess, her hands sweating beneath the fine silk of her gloves, their long sleeves styled to match the rest of her wardrobe.

Elain despised her gown.

The colour was perfectly lovely—a creamy shade of peach, like the ones she grew in the back of her garden. It was the flower-adorned hemlines, too lacy for her liking, combined with the narrow yet somehow puffy silhouette that made her feel like a rather poorly decorated banquet table. The waistline was at its highest, dripping with sawn-on pearls, much too tight to allow comfortable breathing despite her chest being on the smaller side. The underdress or satin clung to the insides of her thighs, sticking to the sweat that coated her skin, betraying nervousness.

“You look beautiful,” Feyre smiled, fixing a crinkle at the side of her train.

Elain turned her head to face her younger sister, nearly sick to see her freckle-specked cheeks flushed with excitement. “I’ve never known you to be a liar, little sister,” she said, unable to hide the shaky breath that escaped her with the words.

Feyre only laughed, stepping back to where Nesta was already waiting, her own gown a simple shade of pale blue.

“We’ll be inside,” Nesta announced. “Relax. You look like you might be sick. I’m sure His Majesty would not appreciate his finest marble be defiled with such display.”

A couple ladies giggled behind them.

“Maybe that’s exactly what I want to achieve,” Elain only said.

Nesta seemed not to acknowledge her words. “You know, Elain,” she mused, lacing an arm through Feyre’s, guiding her to the side entrance down the hall. “With the right attitude, you might just be the diamond of the season.”

Elain blew out a breath, leaning against the wall. Would Greysen and his wife be there? Would they watch as she strode through the room, a prize decorated for all the men to feast their eyes upon? She made herself count to ten before she dared to open her eyes, her vision somewhat blurry from beneath her heavy eyelids and thick, dark lashes. Mercifully, her sisters were gone.

Her stomach twisted. Another debutante had left through the doors, dripping in gold ornaments that displayed the Royal Crest—a simple leaf fit inside a circle, shimmering ominously as Elain stepped in closer. Blood rushed in her ears, barely registering the voice that announced: Lady Elain Archeron, Your Grace.

She didn’t move, temporarily blinded by the bright sunlight that filled the throne room.

“Lady Elain,” a voice nudged her softly.

Letting out a shaky breath, Elain nodded.

One foot after another, she strode in, her heart thudding so loud inside her chest she was sure the audience heard. She wondered if the King heard it, too.

Her eyes moved slowly from the watchful members of the ton, finally daring to survey the throne, draped in rich, red velvet that glittered under the light with regal opulence. The centre of the grand room, it stood on a dais, the very picture of power as it hovered above the crowd. From the golden, ornate feet of the chair, her gaze found the courage to move up, up, up until it settled on the man who held Elain’s future in the palm of his hand.

King Eris Vanserra lounged in his throne with a nonchalant kind of grace.

“Lady Archeron,” his voice, rich and honeyed, echoed through the chamber. “A true pleasure, and, might I add, a wonderful surprise.”

Offering a deep curtsy, Elain inclined her head. “The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty.”

The King’s mouth twitched to one side. “I must admit, I have been waiting to meet a Lady of your name for far too long. My father, may his soul rest in peace, had the undeniable satisfaction of being presented with your delightful sister,” he said, nodding to where Nesta stood, a mere six feet away from the side of the dais. Trying her best to ignore the fact that he’d made an effort to find her in the crowd, Elain met his stare directly, feeling a shiver run down her spine at the dark gleam of his amber eyes.

“You can understand my curiosity, I’m sure. The rumours of you and your sisters’ beauty are known even across the sea,” he praised.

“I do hope your expectations have not been let down, my King,” Elain said, forcing a graceful smile upon her features.

His smile sharpened. “Far from it. I would go as far as to say your loveliness is not talked about enough.”

Elain stilled, the sound of small gasps from the audience almost in rhythm with the thumping of her heart.

“You’re too generous, Your Grace,” she managed to say, offering another curtsy as she turned to make her way into the audience.

“And yet,” the King spoke, his tone making her stop in her tracks, “despite being named the Diamond of the season, your sister remains unmarried.”

Elain’s throat bobbed as her gaze averted to Nesta, making out the tight line of her lips despite her eyes expressing cool indifference.

“A shame,” he continued, “to see such beauty wasted. You can imagine my concern, Lady Archeron, in presiding over this year’s season.” His head cocked to the side. “I do wonder if your intentions are to follow in your sister’s footsteps.”

Shoving her rage down, Elain smiled sweetly, channeling the kind of Debutante charm that she knew Nesta would be proud of. For her—she was doing this for her.

“I plan to marry, my King.”

Eris Vanserra chuckled, his eyes bright like a burning fire. “Excellent.”

***

“Elain!” Feyre panted, rushing into the room.

“In here,” she answered, turning from the window to face her sister. “What—” she paused, feeling the blood drain from her face at the sight of the paper, wrinkled in Feyre’s tight grip. “No,” she whispered.

“Yes!” Feyre squealed, plopping down onto the couch, motioning for Elain to join her as she opened the pages of Lady Suriel. “Dearest, gentle reader,” she began, her voice dropping theatrically, “as this year’s season is finally upon us, the Darling Debutantes of the ton—”

“Stop it,” Elain cut in. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Rolling her eyes, Feyre tossed the paper aside. “She talks about you! Everyone is talking about you, Elain, I went to town today—”

“I said I didn’t—”

“They say,” Feyre pressed, sounding very much like Nesta, “that the King himself will be joining this season to fight for your advances. The King, Elain,” she added, her voice more quiet and clear, “is interested in you.”

Elain straightened in her seat. “I don’t want the King.”

Feyre looked as though she slapped her right in the face. “What?”

“Don’t listen to her, Feyre” Nesta announced, entering the room. “If the King indeed wishes for make our dear sister his Queen, then a Queen she shall become.” A stern look towards Elain. “I trust that even you, Elain, would not be stubborn enough to reject the advances of the most powerful man in our country.”

Indeed she would not. If Eris Vanserra himself was in fact interested in courting her, there was not much left that Elain could do. Unless she wanted to put her family in utter ruin—not to mention her own reputation—she would not defy the King.

“Of course not,” Elain murmured.

Nesta nodded, a look of approval finally gracing her features. “I’m glad you agree. Only a prior arrangement could be reason enough to refuse a man of his status. Even a king must abide by the rules of our society.”

Elain stilled. “What did you say?”

“Then again,” Nesta mused. “What better arrangement than one with the head of state?”

Feyre hummed in agreement.

“There is a ball tomorrow night,” Nesta continued, though Elain was hardly paying attention, her thoughts spinning in her mind so fast she could barely register her sister’s voice. “The King is to announce this year’s Diamond, which, it appears, may very well be you, so you must ensure you look your best, Elain.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Feyre waved a hand. “Even the King was in awe of her great beauty. One dance should be enough for him to drop to his knees and propose,” she added, a smirk playing in the corners of her mouth.

Nesta didn’t smile, but her gaze settled on Elain as she spoke, “Under no circumstances are you to reject the King. Is that clear?”

Under no circumstance but one, it seemed.

“Clear.”

***

For a Royal Ball, Elain supposed she should have expected the most, but the sheer opulence of the event surprised her nonetheless.

Held at the Grand Orangerie, partially cleared out to make enough room to fit a ridiculous number of guests, the ball was sure to be the most important of the season. Basked in golden sunlight of late afternoon, the space was filled with vibrant, exotic flowers that Elan had never even heard of despite hours spent on studying Greysen’s foreign books. She revelled in their beauty, content to enjoy at least some aspects of what she was sure to be a dreadful evening.

It seemed as though the entire ton, in fact, had gathered for the event, from eager bachelors to countless mamas, vying for their attention on behalf of their daughters.

“I hardly concern myself with Suriel’s opinions,” Elain overheard one of them scoff as she passed by a small group of ladies. “The King shall choose a Diamond based on his liking and preferences only.”

The women hummed their agreement. “Quite right,” another agreed. “His Majesty truly is under pressure, with the last year’s season being cancelled and all. Such a shame that King Beron passed in the springtime. May his soul rest in peace, of course,” she added quickly.

“After such a long mourning period, the perfect Diamond is exactly what the ton needs,” the first lady said. “I am certain my daughter caught King Eris’s eye, her beauty is undeniable, I am quite proud…”

Elain stopped listening, aiming for the corner of the glass hall. She needed a moment of peace and quiet to think, think and observe if she wanted her plan to be set in motion as quickly as possible.

Her eyes swept over the space, finding Eris Vanserra at the centre of it all—though the King had been difficult to miss even if she’d tried her best not to look.

Sprawled on his throne—they’d moved it here from the palace, it appeared—he was a picture of pure arrogance. Legs crossed, an arm propped up on the velvety chair, Eris watched as lords and ladies twirled before him to the delicate sounds of violin. A small smile curled at his lips, and Elain suddenly found herself wishing nothing more but to leave—immediately.

It wasn’t that Eris Vanserra was not a handsome man—he was more than handsome, in fact, with his flaming red hair, cut neatly to his shoulders, and his noble features—but there was something about his face that made her mind blank with all but one thought: run.

The smile, Elain realised as she surveyed him from the safety of the palm she hid behind. His lips, twisted in an emotion an amateur debutante could easily mistake for affection. But despite being a debutante, Elain had known men—knew them well enough to recognise that a smile of devotion was hardly different from one of cruelty.

The King’s amber eyes scanned the room, searching. For her, her mind shouted, her sisters’ words like an alarm in her head. Overwhelmed, she decided she needed a moment to gather herself, to clear her head before she could begin what she had come to do.

Elain backed up a few steps, eyes fixated on the throne and the man it hosted, aiming for the exit she knew would lead towards the palace grounds, the perfect place to hide without the ton’s—and Eris’s—prying eyes.

She felt her heels tap against the cobblestone, a pathway laid into the grass, before her back slammed into something rock hard.

“Oh!” Elain exclaimed, whirling toward the source.

Her entire body froze, trapping her breath deep within her chest.

The man that stood before her was one she’d never seen.

A lord, certainly, with the kind of beauty Elain had only read about in books. His long hair was a dark shade of red, though it still gleamed brightly under the setting sun. He must have tied it up himself, judging by the few loose strands that fell into his face, so handsome Elain had to fight the urge to rub at her chest, tight under the russet gleam of his gaze.

“Pardon me, lady,” the man said, his voice deep and penetrating, like rays of sunlight creeping under exposed skin.

She opened her mouth, her chest finally heaving with breath, but he’d already passed her, making his way toward the orangery.

Lady, he’d called her. Not milady, not my lady as the usual gentleman would. Who was this stranger?

Something propelled her to find out.

Before she could stop herself, Elain took a half step forward. “Wait!” she called after him. “Don’t go.”

The man halted at the entranceway, hair shimmering under the last minutes of the sunset as he turned back to her.

“Can I help you, lady?” he asked, and Elain fought the urge to shiver at the sound.

“Why do you call me that?” she blurted out, immediately cursing herself for her lack of propriety.

Now facing her fully, he took a step closer, angling his head. “You are a Lady, are you not?”

It’s not the same, she wanted to say. “Yes, well, I…” a blush rose through her cheeks. Bid him goodnight and leave, her mind screamed. You’ve embarrassed yourself enough.

His lips, full and immaculate, twitched in amusement. “That’s what I thought.”

From the way his eyes sparkled, something told Elain this man was more than aware of the effect he’d had on women. Perhaps it was exactly that, the slightly arrogant twinkle behind his gaze, that cooled her head right down.

“You can, actually,” Elain said, her voice steadier now. “Help me.”

The stranger smirked, his brows flicking up. “I’m afraid whatever help I could offer a darling debutante like yourself—” he said, as if there was something comical about the words, “—would immediately hinder her status as such.”

Elain swallowed, somehow not doubting the words for a moment. Had Nesta been with her, she would have told her to run and never look back.

But Nesta was nowhere in sight.

“What if that’s exactly what I’m looking for?”

At last, surprise flared in those russet eyes.

Taking another step forward, Elain explained, “I may be a debutante, yes, but hardly out of my own volition. I do not seek a husband, though they do seem to seek me.”

His brows knotted, but he held her gaze. “And you wish me to do…what exactly?”

She took a small, shallow breath. This was the plan—and he was exactly what Elain needed.

“Court me.”

The man staggered back, gaping. “What?”

“I need you to court me,” Elain repeated. “Not truly, I do not wish to marry you, no offence—” she paused, noting how a corner of his mouth lifted. She found herself mirroring the movement before she continued, “Only for the duration of the season. My sisters will quit pressuring me into finding a match, and the…” she stumbled, almost betraying the King himself had his eyes on her. Had this man known she was of any interest to the most powerful man in the country, he would never agree to go through with this. Elain cleared her throat. “And the other gentlemen will hopefully turn their advances to the ladies who actually wish to be pursued.”

He gave her an incredulous look. “And you do not wish to be pursued?”

Elain scoffed. “Heavens, no.”

He bit back a smile. “Well,” he considered. “You and I are quite similar in that aspect, then.”

Her eyes narrowed on him as she asked, “Whatever do you mean?”

The man smiled openly now. “What I mean,” he said, “is that perhaps there is some mutual benefit in this…arrangement. You’re not the only desirable match for the ton, lady,” he offered a mocking bow. “A façade of courting you would surely spare me from those restless mamas and their…ah…ambitions,” he finished, the pause earning a small chuckle from Elain.

Eyes gleaming, Elain extended a gloved hand. “Elain Archeron,” she smiled before adding, “Lady of the Archeron estate.”

Strong fingers captured her own as he placed a kiss against the soft silk. “Lucien Vanserra,” the handsome man said. “And I am a Prince of this Court.”

Tagging: @azrielshadowssing @headcanonheadcase @the-lonelybarricade @crazy-cool-girl-blog @violet-shadows @thehaemanthus @shadowsingerofnight @ofduskanddreams @hlizr50 @vikingmagic33

[tokoyamisstuff]

Scandal Ch. 3 - Loki x Reader

Summary: You find shelter in the freezing lands of Jotunheim, and surprisingly some new allies. But Loki is already coming after you...

Warnings: Angst

Words: ~1500

A/N: Sorry, this one is a little short.

I Story Masterlist I General Masterlist I

Taglist:  @hi-there-x @haloangel391 @misssilencewritewell @babayaga67 @accioremuslupinn @mochimommy2002 @just-someone-who-likes-to-write @damalseer @bethanystan @loser-alert @star017 @nina1800​ @queenariesofnarnia @n1fangirlsblog​

Only the anchestors keeping watch over you would know just how long you had been resting until your body was eventually able to move again.

As you looked around, you found several pairs of glowing red eyes observing every one of your moves, clashing with the otherwise darkness around you.

You bolted in an upright position, chest waving heavily as your breath was forming a cold mist. Much to your surprise, you were covered in warm furs.

“Worry not” one of them spoke, their body almost inseparable from the icy cave you apparently resided in. “We are a warrior tribe, not warmongers. What do we gain from killing a weak Asgardian noblewoman and their child?”

“Where is he?!” you choked on your own sob, only able to calm down when yet another giant handed the small bundle into your arms. 

They seemed to have cared for him while you were unable to, having fed and cleaned the small boy who was still impossible to distinguish from those powerful giants.

“What is his name?” A female of them seeked to know.

You stopped in your tracks at her question. Everything happened so fast, there was no time to think about it until now.

“His...his name is...L-Liam*. Liam Lokison.” The unintended alliteration made you smile. Yes, this was a formidable name for such a little fighter.

“Loki, you say?” A row, deep voice drang to your ears, huffing at hearing the name of your husband.

It is him again - Laufey.

Initially, you wanted to express your gratitude for his benevolent hospitality, but concluded it would be better to not interrupt.

“Loki, you say?” he repeated the name, tone laced with venom pumping through his heart. “That pathetic excuse of a Jotunn?”

What in hel did he just say?!

“No wonder that crossbreed of yours is so pathetically tiny.” Laufey would now eye his grandson with great fascination, even though adverse. “A disgrace, just like his father.”

“Wha- what in the realms are you...talking about?”

You took in a sharp breath,pulling the child deeper into your arms and away from his wary eyes.

The king could only laugh at your attempts, finding this farce absolutely amusing.

“Hilarious”, he scoffed, “I take from your reaction that Odin is still the old, pathological liar.”

The Allfather had expected you to die in this environment before you’d ever find out the truth, and even if not - Odin thought Laufey to be wildly ashamed of his son, and he would never admit that this freak was his child.

And that was where he was wrong.

“He still didn’t tell any of you?” The Jötunn thought back to that day of indescribable loss. First and foremost the war with Asgard and them taking away his power, together with the Cascet of Ancient Winters - and then...

“The man you call the God of Mischief was born on Jotunheim, as Laufeyson” he declared, and the following words made your heart clench dreadfully. “For whyever I deserved such misfortune, my firstborn came into this world as a failure.”

“Our world is harsh and unforgiving” Laufey continued and apparently, none of the folk seemed surprised. “It is an act of mercy to erase the weakest of our kind, since they wouldn’t survive either way.”

“Lies” you hissed - but the proof was right there, in your arms. “You are lying!”

However, deep inside, you already knew that his words were true.

Why?

Not minding the surrounding giants, you began crying from all the weight on your heart - mourning over the fate of your lover.

From his very first day, Loki Laufeyson was doomed. His only birthright was failure, exclusion and resentment, with death’s grip constantly at his throat.

“Then-” Connecting the dots, fear overcame your system. “Why did you help me?”

“Too much blood of Asgardians and Jotunns had been shed.”

Now that you thought of it, they had saved you - cared for Liam, even. Neither had they left you to die, nor tried to harm you or the child in any way.

Odin was really the greatest liar in all of history - for there were no monsters in Jotunnheim. Only a different race of people.

“I have stained my own hands in countless battles against your kind. But we are in dire need of peace, Y/N of Asgard. And your child could be the key.”

Anger began boiling inside of you, thoughts still revolving around how Loki had been lied to for all those years - and for what? Diplomacy? Using him like a tool, to control the Jötunn?

“Loki is Asgardian just as much as you are.” Somehow, the king almost sounded pained at the revelation. “He is unaware of his heritage, taught to despise us from childhood on. There is no way he would connect our two cultures with how much hatred he bears in his heart.”

At first, you felt close to passing out once again - the emotional exhaustion being way worse than what your body could take.

Those past two days were just too much for you: Liam’s birth, his genes, being cast out by your own people - and now, knowing that Loki had been lied to and used, even might be in danger at the hands of his own father?!

“So, you want me to...raise him here?” The thought alone made your insides churn, thinking back to your homeland. “I think I have to decline that generous offer.”

“No, not like that.” Laufey slowly approached both of you, wary to not touch your skin in any way. He signalized the want to touch his grandson, and you allowed it.

Of course, in a primal tribe like that, showing weakness was unforgiveable - especially if you were the king.

Yet you couldn’t really describe why, but somehow you knew that Laufey wasn’t as heartless as it appeared to be. Maybe, back then, he really thought his decision to be best - but now?

Everything you could decipher in his orbs as he touched Loki’s child was remorse, yearning and guilt. The loss of his firstborn was still present in his heart, aware that even though alive, they had grown apart from each other beyond repair.

“You need sunlight and warmth to survive.” Homesickness could also kill you, you knew that much. “We only ask of you for visits during his upbringing, so he can learn our ways and traditions. See both sides of the coin.”

A bridge between worlds, huh?

On the one hand, it was a huge responsibility you would burden on your child - yet you knew that at least learning about his heritage was his birthright.

Never you would allow yourself to dwell on comfortable lies like Odin, just because you didn’t want to be condemned for the past!

You would save Loki, as well as ensure this wonderful child’s future!

“Laufey, my king and inlaw, so it shall be. This child is now part of your tribe, as much as it is Asgardian.”

_____

[Several weeks later]

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Laufey looked down on the Asgardian prince, standing in front of the gates of the Jotunn village.

“I demand on seeing my wife, you dull creatures!” Loki materialized a dagger, threatening to throw it right into the Jötunn’s eye. “Whatever you’ve done to her, I will repay a thousand times!”

Unimpressed, Laufey spoke “I see Odin has taught you his manners. Violent, hotheaded and selfish. No wonder she did not stay with you.”

“I ask you this one last time: Where. Is. Y/N?!”

Without any second thought, the God of Mischief had left in secret, facing the giants all alone without help of his brother or soldiers.

Because your husband was devastated beyond relief.

Without you at his side, the half-god had completely lost his way. All this time since he thought you dead, nothing could save Loki from his own mind.

For weeks, he wouldn’t leave his chambers, sitting in the dark for hour after hour without nourishing his body in the slightest.

He was haunted by how your belongings reminded him of those blissful days of your marriage. Your scent was still present on those now empty bedsheets, fogging his mind and keeping him from much-needed sleep.

The only matter he busied himself with aside from screaming and crying until his throat went sore, were the thoughts of what could be:

Knowing himself responsible for your imminent demise was eating him alive - even if that child wasn’t his, if only he didn’t rush things and would’ve let some time pass, to become clear-headed again as he was now.

Would Loki be able to forgive you and live on, overcome this hardships like so many before?

Most certainly! Because he needed you at his side, more than anything else.

Loki Odinson couldn’t live without the light of his life.

And if there was even the slightest chance of you still being alive, he would claim what was his and start anew.

“Loki, your eyes are wide open, and yet you don’t seem to see the full picture.”

When Laufey refused to descend to the entrance, Loki would immediately teleport himself towards the giant, blade aiming at his throat. “You will answer to your crimes, monster!”

The king was able to repel the attack by grabbing the god’s wrist - yet instead of the incoming pain Loki was expecting, merely his clothing froze into crumbles...

...and his limb turned in a shade of dark blue.

“You’ve grown strong, my son.”

_______

*Liam is a irish name, meaning “strong-willed warrior” or “protector”.

[the-wolf-who-kissed-the-moon]

• Lady Dimitrescu x female reader 💋

• Warnings: mild horror elements, kidnapping, attempted murder.

glass angel part VI.

Nightfall quickly slithered beneath the large window frames, shunning away the comfort of daylight. You’ve not moved from that little corner of the sofa even as the food grew cold whilst your stomach seemed to devour itself. Your mind was wandering on dangerous paths as you sat there alone, isolated from the familiarity of your home and people that you knew and cared for. You begun to question whether all of this was real – dark shadows crawling up the walls, eerie voices in the corridors, devilish women trying to hurt you. Even Lady Dimitrescu seemed fictitious, until you saw her sophisticatedly bending beneath the threshold as she entered the room.

Rather absent, your gaze lingered on her majestic form when she stood up to her impressive height. You could almost feel the smoothness of her dress beneath your palms, the frigid touch of her lips – sinfully so. Her very presence seemed to uproot you from your current thoughts only to bring you back to that forbidden realm of dark, erotic dreams. With awe vividly shimmering in your eyes, you feebly turned your head to watch her as she elegantly moved to sit beside you on the sofa.

“I heard you haven’t eaten a thing all day.”

She scolded in a voice so deeply alluring, each word made your heart flutter and your legs instinctively press close, as if to hide your shame. When you tried to answer her, only a hushed breath left your lips. Her tenebrous charms effortlessly enveloped you, leaving you wordless and weak.

“Do you not like the food? Should I bring you something else?”

The kindness she expressed made you feel like a fool for ever doubting her benevolence. Indeed you wanted nothing more than to return home, but how could you refuse such a lovely woman who’d done nothing but offer you shelter in such a dire time. You gently reassured her that you’ve never been treated better, and somehow, in her presence you did manage to enjoy your dinner better. Dark thoughts haunted you still and you had to bite your tongue before you’d spill nonsense to Lady Dimitrescu like you did to her poor maid. Whatever illness you’ve come down with surely must’ve been responsible for your hallucinations and… those dreams.

“… thank you.”

You meekly spoke as you pressed a napkin to the corner of your mouth. The madam’s aura was formidably strong, making you feel rather small as you burned beneath her silent, penetrative gaze. You knew she was watching you even though you had no courage to face her in that moment. Her perfume was overwhelming; strong roses reminiscent to the ones in her bedroom which made you unusually sleepy.

“I’m ever grateful for your hospitality, madam, but… I need to use a phone, please.”

You managed to murmur, coherently enough. A throbbing ache steadily begun to settle at your nape, causing you to feel faint. It was that sweet floral scent, the roses, her.

“Darling, call me Alcina…”

You felt the touch of long fingers gliding along your jaw and cupping your delicate chin to gently guide your attention upwards. Lady Dimitrescu had leaned closer, looming like a hungry wolf over your significantly smaller frame. Her eyes were like two distant stars, glowing brilliantly in the shade of the dimly-lit room. She possessed an otherworldly beauty, with a sense of danger hanging loosely around her magnificent allure. And the way she looked at you stripped you of all willpower and reason; you were hers.

“Ah-… Alcina…”

You echoed softly, freely giving into her beckoning charms. Graceful fingers combed your hair back and over your bare shoulder, revealing the flawless skin of your throat. She caressed the small bruise on your jugular with her thumb, and when your eyes met again you swore you saw a murderous hint within them. With a seductive smile, she leaned away and brought a cigarette to her perfect lips, indulging in the nicotine whilst keeping you pinned beneath her silent gaze.

“I need a doctor, or - … a phone…”

Feebly, you struggled to explain as you battled that overpowering headache which threatened to leave you bedridden for another few long days. Lady Dimitrescu watched you attentively and yet you felt as if none of your words had reached her. The haze of sleep became unbearable, but you stubbornly defied it and rubbed your eyes until they became painfully tender. Your body suddenly felt weightless, carried away by a powerful force. When the soft fabric of familiar bedsheets embraced you, you managed to peek and delightfully find the madam leaning over you. Her touch was comforting as she smoothed rebellious tresses from your fatigued countenance.

“I’ll phone a doctor for you. Now rest, sweet angel.”

She hushedly spoke.

Within moments you fell victim to a deep, dreamless slumber. At times, you felt whetted claws dancing across your chest and collarbones, tangling in your loose, velvet locks. The air in the room would suddenly become frigid cold only to abruptly heat up again, as if winter was swirling wildly around your bed. Yet nothing woke you but the pallid glow of a cloudy morning peeking through heavy curtains.

Your chest heaved with a deep breath as you slowly fluttered your lashes open, still shackled by unexplained fatigue. But as your sight begun to adjust to the sweet light of day, you noticed Lady Dimitrescu seated in front of her large vanity. She was quietly speaking on a vintage phone, scheduling a meeting with, hopefully, the doctor that she promised you the previous night. Your heavy eyelids fell closed and when you opened them again, you found yourself alone in the bedroom.

Better rested, you carefully sat up and glanced about, subconsciously looking for her. A plentiful breakfast awaited for you in the adjacent room, freshly made by the young maid who was still setting the table. You greeted her quietly, but she hurriedly finished her duties and fled the room. Without dwelling on her odd behavior, you went to run a lukewarm bath for yourself, hoping that the water would invigorate you like it did the day before. Hope clung to you as you pinched the nightgown off your shoulders and observed yourself in the mirror; the bizarre wound on your chest was healing at a miraculous pace and some warm hues had returned to your cheeks.

Perhaps you were getting better.

Relieved, you stepped into the pristine bathtub and allowed the water's healing waves to embrace you. Benevolent energies flowed through your limbs, cleansing you of weariness and unholy ailments. As you were relaxing, you thought you heard a faint, buzzing sound in the pipes. You opened your eyes, yet nothing but a pleasant, golden light was present with you in the bathroom. You concluded that the plumbing must’ve been defective, and so you sunk back until you were completely submerged in that clear water.

Fleeting thoughts and memories rushed through your blank mind. You vaguely remembered candles, visiting your grandmother, then only frost and darkness, and death. Old tombstones leered at you as graves opened up in the soft earth, ready to drag you deep into the soil. A cold shiver bolted up your spine. You grabbed onto the bathtub’s smooth edges to pull yourself up, but as soon as you opened your mouth to take a deep breath, it filled with water.

Claw-like hands were viciously wrapped around your neck, forcing you down to the bottom of the tub. Through the ripples, you could see a dark figure looming over you with a wicked, bloody grin. You struggled wildly against the grip, violently splashing bathwater on the walls as you tried to rip those hideous claws away from your burning throat. The water became a dark blur and your lungs were set ablaze – you were drowning.

-          To be continued…

*part VII.

[cerises-amoureuses]

Firstly, what we need to realise is that Harry was incredibly attracted to Ginny throughout HBP, to the stage where seeing Ginny kiss another boy drove him up the wall. He spent a better part of the year wrestling with his emotions, which is something he didn’t go through with Cho Chang. Of course, this could be because Ginny, being Ron’s little sister, posed an interesting dilemma, but also because Harry’s feelings extended beyond a simple crush. The easiest way to deduct this is to go back to Harry’s infamous first kiss: he did not enjoy it, nor did he express any sort of desire to do it again. But in Ginny’s case, he had barely worked out his feelings for her when he started envisioning himself kissing her. Harry only ever thought Cho was nice-looking, but he experienced a very typical, boyish sort of lust and want when it came to Ginny.

“She began popping up in his dreams in ways that made his devoutly thankful Ron could not perform legilimency.” – Harry, HBP.

It does not take a genius to figure out exactly what he and Ginny were doing in Harry’s dreams. This inneuendo is remarkably suggestive; Harry had begun having sexual, inappropriate dreams about his best friend’s little sister that made him feel guilty and embarrassed. Moreover, note the instances when Ginny and Harry came in contact; they were often punctuated with Harry either feeling a “swooping sensation” or getting so tense that goosebumps erupted on the back of his neck. There is no evidence of Harry ever feeling jumpy by a girl’s slight touch before, which begs the question why it flustered him so physically in the first place. All evidences point to the thick sexual tension that Harry was feeling between himself and Ginny.

Simply put, Harry’s attraction to Ginny had permeated the boundaries of innocent crushes and gone straight to lustful thoughts and wild dreams.

“… He had received a lot more Bludger injuries during practice because he had not been keeping his eyes on the Snitch .. “ - Harry, HBP.

There is little room for argument for one trying to say that Harry was admiring Ginny in all innocence from a broomstick suspended in midair. This is another not-so subtle allusion to Harry’s burgeoning sexual attraction. Being a sixteen-year old boy, it is fairly plausible that Harry was being highly inappropriate, possibly undressing Ginny with his eyes, and he needed the force of a Bludger to snap him out of it. It is ridiculous to insinuate that Harry wasn’t looking a little intently than he ought to at Ginny; how else could he have ignored a Bludger speeding at him?

Quite apart from the fact that Harry described his impromptu mid-common room snog with Ginny in a remarkably heavenly fashion, he also explicitly went on to say that if they had time, they would talk about the Quidditch match. This does not specifically point to anything too scandalous, but it does make very clear that Harry intended on taking Ginny to a deserted area for more kissing. This seems a terribly bold step for two people who haven’t even started dating yet. It speaks a lot about their relationship that they started things off with a good, (presumably) lengthy snog, and jumped headlong into the opportunity to snog some more. It insinuates that the two were already very comfortable with each other, and already moving very fast in their relationship.

If that didn’t scream CLUE!!! enough, the next sure indicator was Harry’s feelings while they were dating. His narration was light, airy and genuinely happy – a dramatic change from the teenage angst that readers had been dealing with since GOF. It might be in my imagination, but I have always thought Harry in that period to be all kinds of insufferable, walking around with a goofy grin on his face and not paying much attention to anything – that lovestruck behaviour is largely hinted at in the books,after all. Hadn’t Professor Slughorn attributed Harry’s detoriating Potions grade to “lovesickness”? This obviously meant that Harry had been displaying visible symptoms of the same, which prompted that line of reasoning. What else could make the Boy-Who-Finally-Got-A-Girlfriend “happily impervious to gossip”?

On a particularly striking instance, Harry states that he was reliving a happy moment spent with Ginny in the grounds – if it was “happy” enough for Harry to dwell on it later, what could they have been doing, one wonders? (Cough, cough). Harry expressed explicit frustration that he could no longer spend time with Ginny, and there a very choice things that would, per say, “frustrate” a sixteen-year old boy.

Perhaps it isn’t overly obvious on skimming HBP, but if one analyses Harry’s narration, as I have, it becomes laughably clear that Harry and Ginny were almost definitely being adventurous. Ginny, for her part, is described as fiery and passionate – nothing in her character suggests restraint or holding back. A war, of which Harry was a main part, was going on in full-swing outside the cosy walls of the castle. It is additionally suggestive that JK Rowling also wrote in a specific conversation where it was revealed to Harry that people often elope during times of war. Ginny herself had commented playfully on it. If taking that step as such a young age wasn’t exactly responsible, the could hardly be blamed for it.

Another compelling argument is the fact that Harry, in particular, was, for want of a better word, especially well-equipped. For goodness’ sakes, the boy owned a legitimate Invisibilty Cloak, the Marauder’s Map and was an active user of the Room of Requirement. While Harry made use of these magical items for relatively noble and innocent purposes – in a non-Voldemort dangered world, what else would students want to make themselves invisible for? Ginny, in particular, doesn’t seem the type to ignore the dual potential of items like the map and Cloak.

Lastly, the dealbreaker was the stiflingly unbearable encounters between Harry and Ginny in DH. If there was slight sexual tension in the air between them in HBP, this was magnified about a hundred times in DH. Not many people choose to dwell on this, but I invite you think for a moment – imagine being boyfriend and girlfriend scarcely two months ago, and having a blissful, perfect relationship. Now, imagine being forced to live under the same roof – two teenagers – when they were so unwillingly forced to break up. They had barely spent a month dating, only to be brutally separated, and then made to live together again? Forget Crucio, there’s nothing more torturous than that.

Every time Harry made eye-contact her, he starts to recall moments spent with Ginny in secluded parts of the grounds, which is possibly the least subtle reference in the entire franchise. Again, he experiences acute, agonising frustration, to the point where he is actively trying not to brush against her while they eat dinner – it sounds almost as if he doesn’t trust himself. Another extremely suggestive moment is when Aunt Muriel makes a comment on the scandalous, revealing quality of Ginny’s bridesmaid dress, and the latter turns around and winks at Harry.

No explanation needed.

Need I dwell on Harry’s absolutely endearing jealousy while Ginny danced with other boys at the wedding? He, quite literally, leans against a pillar, folds his arms, (presumably with a glare on his face) and stares fixedly at Ginny.

One confusing instance, however, was Ginny’s – ahem – birthday present to Harry, in which he says, “And then she was kissing him like she had never kissed him before ...” This could somewhat serve as proof that they never progressed farther than snogging, but this greatly contradicts that aforementioned alusions to the same. It also seems a little naive to assume that they were exceedingly good little children while they disappeared for hours to secluded corners and fondly dwell on those instances to the point of distraction afterwards. No, it is my belief that it had been so long since Harry kissed her that he was automatically prone to over-exaggerating their sudden reprisal.

As I come to my conclusion, a few worthy mentions – Harry’s thoughts just before Voldemort struck him in the Forbidden Forest in DH: “And Harry thought inexplicably of Ginny, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips on his –“ Alas, he never completed his train of thinking, but it does leave considerable food for thought.

Therefore, one can comfortably assume that in at least one area of his life, Harry acted like any normal boy his age. He had strong, passionate feelings for Ginny, and she unquestionably felt the same about him (“I never gave up on you. Not really. I always hoped …”), and those kind of things are recipes for teenage intimacy. However, anyone clinging to childhood beliefs can also safely predict that they waited. We may never know, but the evident has always been there, just as JK Rowling intended.

What are you thinking? 🤔

[heavenbarnes]

if i could reach for the stars, i’d give them all to you

The Mandalorian x Female Reader

Warnings/Contains: mentions of masturbation, impure thoughts, implied voyeurism, dirty talk, clothed!mando and naked!reader, fingering, finger sucking, handjob, unprotected sex (this is fiction but yours is not, wrap it), coming inside, very light canon-typical violence

Word Count: 6.5k

everyone’s favourite bounty hunter, in a piece that seemingly came out of the blue! (my apologies if there is any new-zealand-english in this, i started it on my phone) x

If you could count the days that Mando had been dragging you from planet to planet in search of this quarry, then maybe you’d be able to sleep at night.

Time moves different, you think, the hours go slow but the days go quick. Or maybe it’s the other way around? Or maybe time just doesn’t move at all, maybe you’re suspended in this limbo the same way the Razor Crest is suspended in the stars.

At least it feels that way, you’re starting to lose the ability to differentiate between the ship moving and standing completely stagnant.

That’s how long you’d been on this hunt for.

It wasn’t even your hunt, you had your duties, but they certainly weren’t wrangling no-gooders. Yours were more house keeping, the occasional wound cleaning, baby sitting was also on that list somewhere.

And as if he could hear your thoughts (you were still indeterminate on whether or not he could, there was a running bet between yourself and the bounty hunter), the gentlest of gurgles and coos were making their way closer to where you lay.

You turned your head, shuffling your body to try in earnest to get somewhat comfortable on the steel bunk, bringing yourself face to face with your greenest wee friend. By the time three little fingers were reaching onto the edge of your bed, you were hooking you arm down to crane him up.

He lay chest to chest on you, barely weighing more than a bag of root vegetables, quietly chirping to himself. Wrapping both arms around him, you lay in quiet, trying to listen out for telling signs that something might’ve been going well in the cockpit.

“What has your dad got us into now, huh?” The question was nearly rhetorical with the nonsensical babbles you got back from the little guy.

It was a fair question though, one you’d never have the guts to ask the pilot currently sitting somewhere above your head. That was kind of the deal, he doesn’t ask you what you do, and you don’t ask him what he does.

You weren’t sure if it was entirely a fair deal, considering your answer would almost always be “feeding the baby” or “tidying up the mess you left.” His would be somewhere in the range of “extortion” or “racketeering”, which is generally the one you’d be more fervent to know about.

Hearing a familiar noise and change in pressure, you took it for the landing of the ship. You’d landed somewhere, which probably meant Mando knew the guy was close, which could really mean that he’d get the fucker and you’d get to stay somewhere comfortable for more than a night.

The sound of him coming down the ladder and into the shared space pricked your ears up, causing you to hold the baby close to your chest as you sat up to ensure he didn’t fall from your grasp. You were met with the dark visor and the inability to tell what would come next.

He stood there before you, taking up a hell of a lot of space. He always did, this unspeakable way of being very much present, wherever he was. There was never any doubt that he had arrived, and maybe that’s what made him so good at what he did. There was many a quality of him that you pondered when you had silence to yourself, which was nearly all the time.

Hard to believe but the Mandalorian wasn’t a chatterbox.

His right hand brushed over the blaster on his thigh, naturally commanding your eyes to follow the motion, you didn’t know when this conditioning had started. Your cheeks heated at the thought of it, how has you become so responsive to his motions.

Maybe it was that lack of verbal communication, maybe your subconscious had forced you into registering just about every movement his body made. That way you’d have even the slightest idea as to what he might’ve been doing, or better yet, thinking.

“I’ve got to go on foot, I should be back before dark.” He finally spoke, his head hadn’t shifted but there was a possibility his gaze had moved across you and his son.

“Sounds good, I was just thinking of getting us some more supplies.” You threw out, nonchalantly as you brushed your hand along the kid’s back.

Mando cleared his throat before shifting on his feet, like he was wanting to leave before he said his next words. He decided against it and spoke briskly before turning towards the hatch.

“Then don’t go too far,” With his back to you he briefly tilted his helmet over his shoulder. “Please.”

And just like that he was off the ship and out into the open, off to do maker knows what to maker knows who. You placed the kid on the floor as you rose to your feet, looking around for what needed your attention first.

What you took away from Mando’s comment of “before dark” was that it was currently somewhere near morning, maybe midday. What you also took away from the whole interaction was that you were to stay close, and he’d even used his manners.

You needed to start cleaning before you over thought the sentiment. Very easy to do when the man spoke to you possibly three times a day and almost everything he said set your heart alight.

How he managed to do it was beyond you, you thought whilst you folded back the sheets on the bunk parallel to yours, Mando’s bunk. Was it the nature of the man contrasted with the way he interacted with you? Most likely.

You’d seen him haul ass straight up that ramp and strike fear into men triple the size of you. You’ve seen him silence a cantina by walking through the door. You knew the sounds he could draw out of the toughest of people, through fear alone.

Yet when he was behind the walls of this ship? He asked you if your food was too hot and if you needed an extra blanket at night. This man knows how to kill yet he turns his head towards you when you sing quietly to the little green guy.

Sweeping away the dirt that his boots had left in their wake, the smallest smile crept across your face at the thought. That was until, well you couldn’t help it, those thoughts always followed afterwards. He was very kind to you, but it wasn’t only kindness he’d shown you.

Your mouth went dry and there was an uncontrollable flutter in the pit of your stomach as your mind conjured up memories on its own accord.

You could see that moment you’d been returning to the Razor Crest with Mando, well after dark. He was walking slower than you were, no words were being exchanged, it was understandable they’d think you were alone. It was however, incredibly idiotic to grab you by the elbow at that moment.

“Let go of her, now.” The voice had seemingly come from nowhere, but you’d always known it was close behind.

“And why would I do that?” Silly man, you cannot catch up at this point.

The sound of a blaster being drawn made itself known, the man’s grip on you loosening as the barrel was pressed to his temple.

“Because she’s mine and I don’t share.”

You stopped sweeping to catch your breath, a thin sheen of sweat arising on your forehead at the mere thought of what he’d do for you. Maker, he once stepped in front of you when he thought there was danger and that was enough to have you your hand between your legs that night.

How unforgiving, to secretly bury your fingers between your thighs, your other hand across your mouth to suppress any sounds. The same man that was on your mind sleeping directly to your left, less than three feet away from you. Well you were sure he was sleeping, it was hard to tell with the helmet but he never said anything.

Pushing the thoughts to the back of your head, you finished sorting the living area of the ship, leaving the cockpit to him. That was the one place you didn’t interfere with, he’d never told you to keep out, but you didn’t really trust yourself in there without him. It seemed strange being in there without him, it was one area that was so very, him?

You came back to your things, rifling through to find another one of your fabric wrap tops, sitting down with it you pulled the little green baby into your lap. Re-purposing your spare shirt, you weaved the fabric around the both of you until he was safely secured to your front. You smiled down at his big eyes as you grabbed your bag to head out.

These jaunts into the village, they weren’t bad, they were just better with the Mandalorian. The bounty hunter, the pretty care-taker, and their big-eared green child. An unconventional family, but a family none the less. It felt nicer when you were together, but you knew you enjoyed these new places because of the work Mando did.

How else would you be visiting these new planets, new villages, new people? As you felt the soft breeze on your cheeks and heard the soft giggles against your chest, you were acutely aware you had a lot to be grateful for. Using a squinted smile as a universal thanks, you took the bag of mixed fruits from the elderly lady at the stall.

You passed tiny berries to the kid on your front, watching him devour them happily as you walked amongst the people, happily blending into their backgrounds. There was something serene in anonymity, being observant rather than observed for once. This was almost restful in a sense.

That wasn’t to say you couldn’t find thrill in the way all eyes fell on you as you accompanied your- the Mandalorian somewhere. You knew people whispered about you as you walked with his hand on the small of your back. Gazes drifted in your direction as he bought you drinks and instinctively turned towards you in protection.

There was most certainly a particular kind of feeling in that, one it didn’t pay to dwell on when you were in public.

A few medical supplies in the bag, food stuffs for the three of you, it was about time you made it back to the ship. You smiled to yourself as you walked, silently praising your listen abilities as you hadn’t strayed too far. It wasn’t hard not to, especially after Mando had thrown a please on the end there.

You wondered if his eyes softened when he said it? Did his lip jut out and his brow furrow as he spoke? Another thing you really couldn’t think of when you were out in the open, the more you tried to think of what he could look like, the more you felt the heat prick your skin. Just from the tone of his voice, the size of his build, and the way that he walked you knew he’d have you on your knees.

Maker, even with all that armor on you were ready to do for him whatever he asked, no doubt about it. Sometimes you thought maybe the armor added to it, the way it made him look like a mountain of a man, added to his power and elusiveness? That helmet never allowed his features to betray him and give away what he was thinking, bestowed with the upper hand in every situation.

As much as you’d like to see his face, to feel his lips, you’d be lying if you said the armor had nothing to do with the way you felt about him.

This planet’s suns were already starting to move in the sky as the Razor Crest came into view across the field, from what you remembered of Mando’s lessons about telling the time through the sky, you’d say it’d be dark soon. That’d mean, he would be home soon.

That would mean you’d hear the hiss of the hatch open and you’d watch him trudge into the small space, deep breaths through the modulator and dirt on your once tidy floors. His return back was your favorite part of the day, the sense of safety that blanketed you was never taken for granted.

You wouldn’t say he came home soon, but then again, it was hard to tell how much time had passed when you spent the most of it trying to put the baby to sleep. The moment you were successful, you were closing the latch on his crib and immediately heading for your bunk, relieved to be done with your 33rd lullaby of the evening. You’d just lay back when that familiar sound had you rising up on an elbow.

From your bunks, you had a clear view of all incoming visitors, so laying back here you had your sights locked on the unfolding scene in front of you. Mando’s boots dragged along the tracked flooring of the ramp as he pulled something along behind him. He lent back, before he threw his cargo out in front of him, nudging him towards the one place he certainly didn’t want to be right now.

You silently observed, still propped up on your elbow as the bounty hunter wrestled him into carbon, that bit you averted your eyes for. After the commotion had died down, you turned in time to see Mando walking towards where you lay, perching on the edge of the bunk across from you. Your eyes ran over his appearance, noticing a few scuffs on his armor, but overall, another job well done.

Unsure of what came over you, your eyes came to a stop right at the large black “T” of his visor, right where you guessed his eyes should be. If they were there, you weren’t sure where they were looking but the helmet was focused in your direction. The silence was somewhat comfortable until one of you had to break it.

Someone always had to go first. You knew this. You always went first.

“The kid and I picked up something that looks like dinner, if you’re interested.” You spoke with a smile, fingers fiddling absentmindedly.

He nodded, shifting around on the bunk, something you didn’t blame him for as these threadbare mattresses were rather offensive to say the least.

“Before I do, could you help me with something?” He asked you with a break-even tone.

It was so calm and collected that you simply nodded, it gave away no hint as to what you were about to see. You watched as he busied his hands with his armor, before lifting his undershirt and exposing to you a helluva hit on the left side of his torso.

“Maker forbid! Stay there!” You panicked, racing up to get your medical supplies.

You could’ve sworn you heard him make a joke, something along the lines of “I’ll be where you left me” but you were moving too quick to really pick it up. By the time you were back, and you’d got a closer look at it, you really couldn’t believe how smoothly he’d played this one off.

“We really are not cut from the same cloth,” You filled the space as you reached for the bacta spray. “This is nothing to you yet I stub my toe on a ladder once and I really thought you’d have to go on without me.”

It might’ve just been a delay from the modulator of his helmet, but you almost thought that could’ve been a huffed laugh that came from him. It was followed closely by a sharp inhale in pain, so it was looking more and more likely.

“You and I aren’t so different, I’ve just got the helmet to hide it.”

Suppressing your reactions was tough, but you didn’t want to scare him into his usual silence by making some kind of face. This was just, unusual, beautifully unsure.

As you sprayed the affected area, you allowed yourself that one little glimpse of him you got, the only one you got every time you bandaged him up. The beautiful soft tan skin that resides under his armor, something you’d never get enough of.

“You mean to tell me there might be some tears under there?” You finished applying it, your hand still gently resting against his skin.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

As you went to move your hand away from him, you felt his own gloved hand shoot out and grasp yours, holding it against him for a moment. You prayed to Maker that his helmet didn’t have some truly enhanced hearing that gave away the fact your heart was near beating out your chest.

He didn’t speak, just kept your fingertips pressed against him for a few more moments. You weren’t going to argue, the physical contact being the first you’d had in a very long time, this was hardly cause for concern. You did feel a sense of loss when he finally moved you away, reapplying his armor as you tidied up.

As you put your bag away, you felt like you were being watched, and your assumptions proved correct when you turned to find him looking at you from the ladder to the cockpit.

“Thank you for that, and thank you for the food.” Unfortunately, very normal again.

You lent him a kind smile, reassuring him it was no problem, before he made his way up to eat his food on his own. Resigning to your bunk, you strained as hard as you could to listen for that sound, and soon you were met with it.

A gentle hiss, before metal on metal as he placed the helmet on the floor. A spoon against a bowl and then, a quiet hum in appreciation for that first bite of food. You lay with a smile on your face knowing that only a floor away from you, the Mandalorian was helmet-less and he was enjoying food, your food.

You hadn’t realised you had fallen asleep, or that you were tired, until you heard Mando coming into your shared space. He unknowingly woke you up, but you didn’t open your eyes, you listened to the sounds of him navigating the area until the sounds of his boots stopped. You gently opened your eyes and felt your heart jump inside your chest, but not out of fear.

He was standing beside your bunk, helmet directed towards you, so your eyes did what they always did and went for the black strip of visor. There was a moment of quiet between you, and for the first time, Mando went first.

“How do you always do that?”

“Do what?” You didn’t know why you were whispering, he wasn’t, but he made you feel like you needed to.

“Look directly into my eyes, you always know where they are.”

Your mouth was going dry, the blood was rushing so quick in your ears that you couldn’t hear your own thoughts. All you could offer him was a pathetic shrug as you shuffled up your bed. Apparently, this was an open invitation for him to sit beside you on it.

Now, you hadn’t thought of it before but it was suddenly made aware to you that there is something entirely intimate about someone sitting on your bed. The fact it was him, in all his glory, well that was just entirely intimate in and of its own.

It dawned on you how quiet it had become, only the sounds of your breathing in this tiny space could be heard, but it wasn’t essentially bad. This was just one of those moments, where nobody really had anything to say. Rather than speak, Mando moved in a way that told you more than anything he could say ever would.

He reached into your lap, where your fingers were tugging at the woolen blanket, and took your hand between his. He gently rested it on the armor of his thigh as he slowly slipped his two gloves off, a new sound coming to light of the leather being dropped on the floor.

Your tongue was suddenly too big for your mouth as his bare hands wrapped around your one. They felt rougher, certainly had seen more harm than yours had, but that didn’t mean they weren’t kind to the touch. His fingers moved against yours, folding down until they were entwined.

He cleared his throat, the noise coming in clear across his modulator and nearly making you jump. What really stopped your heart was his question.

“Do you look at me when you touch yourself because you’re thinking of me, or because you’re trying to make sure I don’t notice?”

If Maker could’ve struck you down where you sat, that wouldn’t have been the worst thing to happen. Your whole body was overcome by a horrendous heat, and yes, you’d be a bold faced liar if you said part of it wasn’t arousal.

“You’ve been awake all those times?” Your voice was so quiet but you just needed to know.

“Sometimes I’ve been so tired that I’ve fallen asleep against my will, but most of the time, yes.”

Second time this day he’s been cool as ice about something that’s got you seeing stars. How is this something so calm to him when you’ve got lightning inside of you? What does he mean against-

“Against your will?”

“As in, I would’ve liked to keep listening but I fell asleep before I could stop myself.”

How strange to be able to pin point a moment where everything was going to change, never be the same again. You willed yourself to look at his helmet, and if what he said was true, you’re locked eyes with him in that moment.

“You listen and you like-“

“I listen and I rub myself through my pants, because I feel I’ve heard you say my name.”

Any less restraint on yourself and that moan sitting on the tip of your tongue would have fallen straight out. Is it possible that every filthy thought you’ve had is suddenly materializing in front of you.

“But I don’t hear you or-“

“I can turn off the vocalizer in this,” One of his hands rises to tap against the helmet. “And you’d never hear a word.”

The image of Mando palming himself in the bed beside you as the tiniest cries of his name sound from you, flashes past your mind and you can’t stop yourself before your thighs clamp together. You know he saw, he knows you know. 

Unsure of where you found the courage for your next words, you’re just thankful you did.

“A little of both, mainly because I’m thinking about you.”

You hear what has to be a growl, omitted straight from his chest at your words. His helmet tilts to watch as you remove your hand from his, but slowly trails up your body as you’re shifting from your spot beside him. You turn towards him, parting your knees so you’re situated right in his lap.

Large hands come to hold your waist as your hands come to rest on his pauldrons. He slowly drifts his touch up to your shirt, fingers playing with the large knot that keeps the whole thing together. One tug on the intricate draping and everything he’s ever thought of is in front of him.

“Take it off me, Mando.”

Before he moves, he tilts his gaze up, probably looking you dead in the eye with out any hesitations. You hear a low hum of breath through the vocalizer.

“You’re prepared to let me do to you what I want, and you don’t even know my name, what I look like?”

Drifting your hands along his collarbones, your fingers gripped the edge of his under shirt, just and only displaying to you the soft skin that resided there. You kept your eyes on his as your touch left shivers in their wake.

“Always have been, always will be.”

In a matter of seconds, you felt him pull at the back of your shirt and soon it was all unraveling, leaving your chest bare to the bounty hunter beneath you. It wasn’t hard to catch the gasp that fell from him at the sight, everything he’d ever wanted was so very much in his grasp.

The rough pads of his fingers moved along your belly and to your chest, palms rolling over your breasts and catching your nipples. It was a known fact that you’d be the softest thing he was ever allowed to hold onto, he knew this was something to take his time with. The Mandalorian was never a fool, he knew when to draw slow.

Arching your back into his touch, a natural sigh sounded from within you. It had been some time since you were touched like this, this kind of intimacy didn’t come easy when you were constantly on the move with a man like Mando. Understandable that nobody would try get close when the armored man would break an arm before he let them touch you.

And understandable that you’d be less than inviting when all you wanted was this, from him and only him.

“Please touch me, Mando.” You couldn’t help but whine, he already had a way of building arousal within you, this was borderline torture now.

“What do you think I’m doing? Or is this not enough, do you still need more?”

You caught your lip between his teeth, he couldn’t be talking to you like this without expecting it to be doing a number on you. Rolling your hips into his, you had it there in that moment. The Mandalorian was pitching a tent in his pants and it was a credit to you.

“I want your hands on my pussy, sir.” 

You hadn’t called him that in maker knows how long, you had when you first joined him on the ship but it ended all very abruptly. It ended when he turned to you one day and in a strained voice had said “Please, for the love of it all, just call me Mando.”

Now it all made sense to you in this moment, one hand gripped your bottom lip between two fingers, whilst the other slipped down the front of your trousers and cupped your cunt firmly. It all happened so quickly there was no way of stopping the girlish whimper that erupted. 

“Greedy little girl, is this what it’s going to come to? You’re not satisfied until I’ve got my hands on you?” The gruff edge to his voice had you moving your hips in his hand.

He welcomed it as you did, lifting his fingers to slip them between the slit of your heat. There was no doubt he could feel just how wet he’d gotten you with his words and his touch on you. No room for embarrassment, you bared down on him, hoping he’d find it within him to slip his fingers inside you.

“If it means I get spoken to, get touched like this? Then that’s exactly what it’ll come to.”

He moved his hand on your mouth, angling two of his fingers straight in and against your tongue. He muttered a “suck” which you heard loud and clear, wrapping your lips around the thick digits, treating them just how you would the head of his cock.

His other hand moved deeper against you, threatening to move all the way inside you. The way you rolled your cunt against him, you thought he knew it was less a threat than a borderline need at this stage. He ever so graciously sunk them in till the knuckle, before gently stretching them out.

You moaned around his fingers, one hand coming to wrap around his wrist and the other going for his lap, trying to get a grip around whatever you could. Suddenly, the hardening you felt before and the way your fingers seemed to graze against his length, all made sense. Somewhere between leaving you for dinner and coming back down, he’d removed his codpiece.

There had to be a sense of knowing somewhere in there.

The time to tease him over it came and went as his fingers within you flinched when you gripped him through his pants. You rolled your palm over the impressive size, feeling him becoming even harder beneath you. He dragged his fingers forward in time with your movements, forcing you into a steady roll against his body.

Sliding his fingers from your mouth, you licked up the length of them and aimed for eye contact.

“Does it feel better when I do it? Do you think you’ll ever be able to go back to touching yourself and listening?”

He pulled his fingers inside you forward, hitting the softest spot and releasing a pathetic cry from your chest.

“If you don’t watch your mouth I’ll sit over there stroking myself and all you’ll be able to do is watch and listen.”

Now, the thought of that shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did, but what is a girl to do. What can she do when he’s throwing things like that out into the open and watching her catch them like a dog with a bone.

His helmet briefly tipped down to where his hands rested in your pants, before shooting back up to your face. There was no doubt he felt the small flood that released at what he’d just said. There was also no doubt he was going to have you for that.

“Oh you’re incredible, does that sound good to you? Want to see me fucking myself, hear me get myself off?”

It truly wasn’t fair, there was no control you had over the way you seemed to get wetter at every word. In your defense, Mando was hardening just as quickly under your palm. The answer to his question was obvious, the thought of watching him fuck his fist? That was high up on your list of things that keep you up at night.

Rather than wait for a verbal response, he was drawing his fingers from you, much to your dismay that you made known with a whine. Strong arms wrapped around you and was standing, placing you in the spot he’d just sat. He was quick to draw your trousers and underwear down your legs, leaving you incredibly bare to the bounty hunter.

His hands gripped your shins, pushing your knees back into your chest and exposing you some more. He stepped back, fully taking in the sight of the way your pussy glistened for him. His gaze came back up to your face, and the look in your eyes was familiar to him, a pure look of want.

It took him back to when he met you, you were one of the first people whose first reaction to the Mandalorian wasn’t one of fear. You looked him up and down and when you focused on his helmet (getting eye contact on the first try), he’d seen a look he wasn’t used to. Now he could pin point it as lust, you looked at him like you weren’t meant to spend another day without him.

Releasing one of your legs, he brought his hand down to free himself from his pants. The moment he stood before you with his cock in his hand, you knew that there would never be another like this. It was going to be impossible, should you ever have to, to replicate a feeling like the one he inspired within you.

He stroked himself as he loomed over you, and you took it upon yourself to reach your hand between your legs. To drew your fingers over your pussy, rubbing your clit gently as his helmet dipped ever so slightly to catch the motions.

“Looks like a normal night for us, huh?” 

There was an exhale from the helmet, still intently watching as you collected some wetness and brought your hand out to wrap around his length. He was hot and heavy, throbbing in your grasp as you twisted around it. You brought your touch up and over the head, feeling the way the pre-come had already started to appear.

Mando bucked his hips into your hand for a moment, his hand still grasping your shin as he rubbed it gently, enjoying the feeling of your skin beneath his bare touch. He took the base of his cock in hand and drew back for a moment, before stepping forward and dropping it against the meeting of your thighs.

You gasped at the sensation, the feeling hitting your clit and sending its way through your entire body. There was now no second thought to be had, he had been worth the wait and you were grateful for your displays of patience. He rubbed the head along you, picking up more slick as he got ever closer to your entrance.

Lining up with you, he put his other hand back on your shin and braced you open, slowly inching his hips forward as he began to fill you to the hilt. Your eyes rolled back and you felt tears pricking at the corner of them as he well and truly stretched you. Fuck, if it wasn’t apparent it had been a long time before, getting right back into it with someone as big as him was going to be one of your greatest missions.

Mando was good to you, allowing you a moment to release all the breath held in your body, before the slowest thrusts of his hips became apparent. The patch of coarse hair that resided at the base of his cock was flush against your clit at the end of each thrust. Just about everything he did to you was a sensory overload, the way his skin felt on you, the sounds that were falling from him, he was going to do you over.

He slid one foot back, leaning forward until his chest was flush with yours, his hands left your legs and braced under your arms against the bunk. Your head tipped back, candied moans floated into the air as he sped up his pace, the unmatched heat only he could bring began to rise throughout your body.

His helmet rested heavy in the crook of your neck, moving your head to the side you accommodated him there. The timbre of your moans becoming more all-consuming with your proximity.

“You look so sweet getting fucked out like this, such a good little girl but you’re letting me stretch this pussy till it’s only fit for me.”

There wasn’t a word in all your learned languages that could’ve encapsulated the way that sentence moved through you. Your body responded for you, cunt tightening even more around him as, and he felt it too. He stuttered a moment, a short but sharp moan slipping out into your ear as he did.  

You’d spent your whole time on the Razor Crest complaining about how uncomfortable these bunks were, but in this moment with Mando’s weight on top of you, there wasn’t anywhere else you’d rather be. One of his arms left the bunk, wrapping around your waist and pulling you tighter against him and letting him quicken the pace.

The bind of moans that were steadily leaving your lips were stuttered by the incredible feeling of his hips rolling against yours. The amounting pleasure was getting too much, like a fever that was ready to break, you slipped your hand between the two of you and rubbed your clit. You tried hardest to keep your time but it was hard enough to keep a level head when he had you like this.

You could just and only hear his breathing changing beneath the helmet, you knew you needed more. You hadn’t spent nights awake imagining what this man sounded like when you were wrapped around him, all for him to keep it from you.

Turning towards him, your lips ghosted against the beskar helmet, a fog of your breath being left in its wake.

“I want to hear you, let me know how good I feel.”

That ripped the most guttural groan from deep within his chest, it almost sounded pained, the way it tapered off into a cry towards the end. He knew he didn’t need to hide with you, to be reserved, so when he finally let it out there was nothing to stop it. The dam walls had broken and the sound was intoxicating, your legs kicking out and wrapping around his hips.

He took his other hand from the bunk and tucked it under your thigh, still holding you tight around your waist, he picked you up and hoisted you around him. His thrusts never still, bouncing you down against him as he continued to tell you all the good in the world you were doing, right against your ear. Well, against the helmet and then against your ear.

“This sweet little cunt was made for me, you never need to get yourself off again, you just ask me and I’ll do whatever you want.”

A feeling of lightheaded rushing began to take over you, you never thought you’d hear an admission like that from the Mandalorian but it was gratefully met. Your whole body began to tighten, legs locking and muscles tensing around him. Over your own cries and whimpers, you could hear direct orders from him.

“Come for me, be a good girl for me.”

And how could you deny him like that?

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you pulled his head further into your neck, hands splaying against his upper back as a raw cry clawed its way out of your throat. Mando fucked you through it, the white light that shot across your closed eyes telling you that he was hitting every spot maker gave you.

He pulled you down against his cock again, before his pace began to slow in quakes of his body. He brought you back to the bunk, laying you back against it as he dragged himself through you. He pulled right out to the tip before slamming in again, your cries still filling the small space. 

Pushing right back into the hip, he doubled over you, filling you fully as he came with the purest moan of your name. You’d never heard him say it like that, your instinct was to wrap your arms around him, something told you that you needed to hold onto him in that moment.

As he pulled out, he pressed a palm against your belly, making your whole body shudder at the feeling. A gruff exhale could be heard through the modulator, before Mando quickly tucked himself into his pants, heading to the fresher for a wash cloth.

The feeling of the damp fabric against the sensitive meeting of your thighs had you jumping, but he was quick to calm you with another gentle touch of his hand. His helmet came up to look at you, take you in for yet another time that night.

“I’ve got this, let me take care of you for once.” 

[from-a-reckless-writer]

some rojascorp mayhaps??

Once upon time, Andrea Rojas would've been the first person she would call about this. Ask her if it would really be a good idea to drop everything and just leave. In her mind's eye, she can already see what Andrea would've said. She would say, yes. And most possibly even tell Lena she'd drop everything too and fly right along with her.

You jump. I jump.

She was sure of it. After all, they did it once before.

So, really it wasn't a surprise when she opens the door and sees Andrea on the doorstep.

"Andrea." The door opens wider and Lena lets her in. "What are you doing here?"

Even though based on the unreadable expression on her face, Lena already has an inkling.

"I overheard my emp-" she clears her throat, waits for Lena to turn and face her. "I overheard Nia and Kara today," Andrea speaks slowly, "You're going to Ireland."

Lena merely raises a questioning brow.

"I-" Andrea fidgets and that's the first time Lena sees that there is something in her hands. A folded piece of paper, it looks like.

Andrea catches her eyes, and says, almost a whisper, "I have something to confess."

Lena inhales deep, crosses her arms.

"Well, let's hear it then."

Andrea takes a step forward, debates putting a hand on Lena but settles for fidgeting with the paper again.

Now upon closer inspection, Lena notices its yellow color, an old parchment and if the inky bleeds are any indication, Lena's suspects it to be some old letter.

This rattles the heart in her chest, for reasons she would not dare name.

Andrea starts to speak again and Lena tears her gaze away from the letter.

"I-I've been investigating Lex," Andrea tells her.

"Seems like that's what everybody is doing these days, or so I heard." Lena's stalling she knows, but who wouldn't? Andrea's serious yet sincere gaze is terrifying. It has been so long since that's been directed at her, and Lena does not want to fall victim again.

Andrea ignores her, continues on, her voice now more sure, most likely the effect of noting Lena's reaction. Andrea knows all too well what she can do after all.

"And in order to do that," she explains, "I had to infiltrate the Luthor Mansion."

As Acrata, Lena adds in her head. She remains as stoic as possible and what Andrea does next almost knocks her.

"Lena," she says, "I really think we should sit down for this."

The rattling has now become pure chaos inside her.

Lena says nothing in response, just turns around again for Andrea to follow. She guides her to the enormous couch. She crosses her legs and Andrea does the same next to her. Lena pointedly avoiding the thing in Andrea's hands.

"So?" Lena prods.

Andrea inhales, swallows, "I went to Lionel's study."

The room springs clear in Lena's mind.

The rows of books; the smell of cigar and grease when Lionel brings his projects home; Lex's diploma framed and hung, Lena's report card pinned next to it. A single family picture. The stiffest Lena has ever felt for the camera.

"And I- I found something."

Lena snaps back to the present.

"It's from your mother."

Andrea looks regal in the open moonlight of her apartment, and God, she thinks, it truly would never be over, would it?

"N-not Lillian." Why Andrea felt the need to clarify that, she wouldn't know. When she's the first person Lena had confided to about how Lillian was never a mother to her.

"A letter," Lena states, her voice is quiet and calm, the opposite of the tempest deep inside.

"Yes," she confirms, "here." Andrea starts to hand her the letter-

"Can you please-" she blurts out suddenly, Andrea halting mid-way.

"Can you please hold my hand? While I-" she inhales deep, "While I read it? Please?"

Andrea only nods, reaches for Lena's hand, wraps around it tightly.

It's the anchor Lena needs, but she would never admit that. It looks like she doesn't need to though. Andrea already knows she's afraid of drowning.

Lena takes the paper gently, afraid that it will crumple the dust the moment her fingers touch it.

The paper is old and yellow. The ink blurred at some parts, drops of something Lena suspects to be alcohol, marring the words. He imagines Lionel reading it for the first time in his study. Did he feel the same churning in his stomach as Lena did now? Was he too drunk to even read it?

God, Lena so badly wishes she was drunk right now.

Andrea squeezes her hand and drags her back.

The writing isn't anything like hers. Each word in capital letters, which should've made it look a bit robotic and too uniform, yet to Lena's eyes it looks elegant. As if the hand that had written took great care in laying down the words.

She reads the first line.

"To my dearest Lionel,

I am sending this directly to the mansion, I apologize in advance. I tried calling. But your assistant, I have to commend her--she gets creative with those excuses--never fails to inform me that you're unavailable. I've also tried your various emails, to no avail. And well, this is my last resort.

All this to say, I know when I'm not wanted anymore. But I do just need to send you this one last letter. If you don't want me in your life anymore, well, who am I to stop you? You're Lionel Luthor.

But I do think you might want to know about your daughter, our daughter. Lionel, we never did make any good decisions together, but I think, our daughter, she's the one good thing to ever come out of this mess.

She's turning two on the 24th. She's perhaps the best thing that could have happened to my life. She's a menace, she started walking early and I've babyproofed the house yet I'm still afraid she'd knock her head somewhere. She's a babbler, and a smart one at that. She's going to do great things, Lionel. I just know it. I'm so proud of her already. She has your eyes. Always green. Always bright. I miss you, I'm not going to lie. Yet, when I hear her laugh, it doesn't hurt so much anymore.

Her name is Lena, in case you've already forgotten. Don't worry, her birth certificate doesn't say Luthor. Lena Kieran, I've decided, would be the safest for her. She will be untraceable. Nobody will manage to link her to you.

Then why name her Lena at all? If she'll never be a Luthor, right? Naming her with an L seems a bit sentimental, I admit. A selfish part of me, I think, is still hoping for you to come back. To see you hold Lena for the first time, matching eyes lighting up. Maybe give her your name.

Someday.

She's the love of my life, Lionel. I would do anything for her. I keep wondering if you would do the same if you met her. If you will ever meet her. I'm afraid, you know? I'm terrified of the day she'll come asking for you. I'm terrified that even though I love her fiercely, it would never be enough. Will my love ever be enough? It never was for you.

But well, I never was one to dwell on sad things, so I'm afraid I have to end it here, Lena will wake soon. And how such a small thing can make so much noise, I don't know.

Goodbye, my love.

If you ever have a change of heart, you know where to find us.

Yours..."

And that was it, Lena realizes, that was the end. It wasn't signed. She turns the paper over frantically, searching for any clue, anything, any sign.

A signature, a name, an initial.

Nothing. There's nothing.

"Where's the- there's no-"

She doesn't realize she's sobbing till Andrea's tearing the paper away from her hands and pulling her close; doesn't realize she's hyperventilating till Andrea's squeezing her tight, tight, tight.

"Lena, you have to breathe. Lena, breathe."

She lets herself be carried away by Andrea, heaving gasps coming out of her lungs.

She's the love of my life.

I would do anything for her.

She'll never be a Luthor.

I'm terrified-

"Lena, Lena," somebody's calling her.

"Lena, you have to look at me. Look at me."

Her eyes focus and Andrea is there, soft and strong and here.

Lena's fully in her lap, one arm wrapped around her, one hand cupping her face.

"Lena, Lena," she keeps saying her name, her palm warm on Lena's cheek, and all Lena can do is nod. Tears are still streaming down her face and if she opens her mouth, she's afraid of what will come out.

So, she nods. She nods and she tries to breathe, tries to follow Andrea's counting.

Her breathing settle, and she can feel the whoosh of relief from Andrea.

"There we go, just breathe, just breathe," she coos, running her fingers through Lena's hair.

"I'm sorry," Andrea tells her, "God, Lena. I'm so sorry, I should not have sprung it on you like that. I'm so stupid. So, so stupid. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

She says sorry over and over. pressing it to Lena's hair, to Lena's forehead, anywhere within reach.

"T-there's no signature," Lena manages to say, she feels Andrea tense beneath her. "No name. I don't know why- I don't know why I can't remember her name."

Her lips move against Andrea's exposed collarbone, and she wonders if that's the reason something is drumming loud beneath the skin Lena's pressed to.

"She couldn't sign it, I think."

"I think so, too," Andrea agrees quietly.

She was the other woman, of course, she couldn't sign it. It was already an act of bravery to send it to a place where Lillian Luthor resides. Signing it would've meant more than danger.

"You were a kid," Andrea whispers, "You were a kid, Lena. It's okay if you don't remember."

But it's not. Because, because her mother loved her so much and Lena can't even remember her name.

"She said, I wasn't going to be a Luthor, in the letter, she said."

And that, that must mean something, right? That must mean that everyone else is wrong, she's not just a Luthor. She wasn't supposed to be one anyway.

Kieran.

"I'm so sorry, Lena," Andrea says again and Lena's unsure what she's still apologizing for.

"Kieran, Andrea. Kieran. I don't think that's supposed to be my middle name." She pulls away from her place on Andrea's chest to look at her.

She turns around, reaches for the letter discarded on the table. Her hands doesn't tremble much this time.

"Look, there, see," she points at the line, "She said, Lena Kieran. I think, I think that's a surname."

A clue.

A thread to pull on.

A part of her that connects them together.

Andrea stares at her silently, "I think you might be right."

Lena's mind is going a mile a minute now, she would have to research. She would need Brainy's help, a database, she needs access to a database, lists of orphanages, records that Lillian might have hidden about her.

"Lena," Andrea calls, "Slow down."

"I- I wasn't-" A blush rises to her cheeks, "I wasn't doing anything."

"Yes, you were. I can hear you thinking."

She doesn't answer, just slumps back into Andrea again, buries her red face out of sight.

"I'll help you," Andrea murmurs, "I'll help you. You don't have to do it alone. Not anymore."

"Okay," she says, dares to kiss at Andrea's jaw. "Thank you," she breathes against her skin.

There's so much to unpack, so much to do, so much to say.

But it can wait, it can wait.

"You jump, I jump."

[sweetobseesion]

About Wang So’s Villainy

*I DO NOT HATE WANG SO, NOR IS THIS A POST CRITICISING HIM. IT IS BASED ON MY OPINION , AND IT AIMS TO POINT OUT AND EXPLORE  HIS “VILLAINOUS SIDE” THAT SHAPES HIM THROUGHOUT THE DRAMA.

I just wanted to point this out because I’ve noticed people have two reactions to it. Either there’s people denying it or people heavily emphasising on it.I would like to clarify,that Wang So is very much a character that is caught in crossroads, stuck between both his selfless heroic nature and his ,beastly savage side.

The show never denied his villainy, not even for a moment.He was always dangerous,scary and he himself, usually acknowledges his crimes and extreme personality.

The only difference is , he had the scope to be a better person. He realises he is in the wrong and understands the consequences of his actions. But even then , he never changes. Murder is always a full forged solution in his book.

But what made his personality more flawed was his anger, pride and this ability to listen to only himself. It’s what made him into a powerful king too, but it’s also what affected his relationship with Soo towards the end.

It’s hard to discern whether his impulsive , suspicious nature is the result of his environment and circumstances that he grew up in or just his personality. His Nature. But Wang So has always been pragmatic, opportunist and suspicious of those around him.

When we see him enter the palace, he kills of a horse. When Jimong offers him the opportunity to protect the crown prince , he questions his intentions. And he never opens up to anyone and is always on guard, full of excuses and masks. Which is why when Yeonhwa suggests he learns with the princes, he says he prefers being alone with his hunts. We all know he wants to live in Songak,but he says this because he doesn’t want her to know his intentions. And even Yeonhwa,can see through it.

He isolates himself from people.And it’s this exact combination of stubbornness, impulsivity and constant suspicion that makes it so easy for him kill anyone quickly and justify it. And since he isolated himself, there’s no one to stop him or make him think on it.And hence, he grows up, used to his extreme actions and not reflecting on it. Though he has his moments of regret, it’s not something he dwells on a lot.And he will never admit to it too,because he has pride.

All this makes it all the more easy for him to justify his actions.

It makes him either invincible or impossible and stubborn. Quite possibly both, but that doesn’t mean he is not bound to face the consequences of his actions. He is human after all, and if he chooses reckless actions one after the other and defend it, he’s bound to face the consequences. It doesn���t matter if he has a good reason or not. General Park points that out to him , clearly.

But he doesn’t think it through , and just ponders it for a while. But this moment, pretty much sets the stage for his inevitable end. All throughout his life he has to kill to survive, but the more he kills, the more enemies he creates and the more he has to cover up his path. And hence , the lonelier he becomes.

Meanwhile his relationship with Soo blossoms,and he finds it hard to explain his feelings for her.She shows him empathy and never judges him in his worst state,and tries to understand him. She treats him with kindness and like any other human being. He finds it easy and comfortable to talk to her and be around her.He opens up to her easily and listens to her easily. He also thinks about her and willingly incorporates what she says into his thoughts and actions. In other words , he has a crush on he doesn’t realise it. It’s quite hard for him to understand his own feelings, given how lonely he grew up.

And when he does,he is confused yet thrilled. But he still doesn’t possess complete understanding of his emotions, and he is not completely comfortable with having a person who sees right through him. Like when she sees right through his insecurity of his scar.And he punishes her for that by silence , and reprimanding her when she makes his favourite tea.

He ignores her, and it’s not until she reaches out to him after the rain festival does he put his defences down. But then, this was only achieved through her own efforts.In order to help him,she creates a foundation that conceals his scar,and she helps him succeed in the rain ritual.

He pretty much sets his heart to her after that and chases her and focuses on getting her for himself.He never listens to her rejection or her refusal and is quite insistent with his ways.He seeks her out and is quite determined to have her and he uses all means possible to have her by his side. Like he asks the King for her, then he takes her out of the palace ,drinks poison to protect her and stands by her side.

But little does he realise that this puts her in danger more than anything else. Because the more he chases her the more jealous Wook gets, the more worried his father becomes and the worse her reputation becomes ,because everyone calls her “bad luck” and blames her for how he turned out. But thing is , he does not realise it. He never sees the damage he’s unintentionally caused to her because in his mind he’s doing the right thing, choosing the right thing. He won’t listen to anyone who disagrees and he defies anyone who tries to stop him and that includes the king. In his mind, he already sees himself as the Knight in shining armour, who fights for the woman he loves.

And as his feelings grow, he also finds himself getting easily jealous. He has this habit of just assuming things and sticking by it, and it makes it hard for him to communicate.When he has to marry someone and is aware that is a deal breaker to her, he never reveals to her the reason behind it. Fans say this better than making up a excuse but I don’t see how this is better as it just leaves her alone without an explanation.All because he assumes she would hate him anyway.At the end of the day an explanation is better than an assumption or an excuse. He gets jealous when Baek Ah gets her the best present. His emotions have now become completely besotted with her,and is eager for real romance .So it’s not much of surprise to see his reaction after he discovers Jung hid in her room,it’s clear that he’s suspicious and doesn’t trust her easily.But this time , he goes to her asks her. He communicates and clears his doubts and reaches a deal. And it’s all sweetness for once.

Soon, their loyalties are tested, and they both hesitate to sort it out on their own. Wang So tries to sort it out all by himself and Hae Soo is hiding the people he’s searching for, eventually confesses to her , she holds back since she has too many warnings and supernatural visions that hold her back, but she does trust him . But it’s too late,and he ends up killing a brother and that haunts him. But that’s what pushes him to realise his place and finally steer him towards his path of being king.But for that when he’s asked to sacrifice Soo, he understands and breaks up with her in the cruelest way possible,by blaming her for his brother’s death.

The thing is, while saying those cruel words, he is also venting his anger out to her. When he returns he is still cold to her , but she still chases after him.She is burdened with guilt,and he cannot deny his feelings. Soon this leads to reincoincillation But thing is, Soo know he left her for the throne, but listens to his other reason anyway.She is beyond the point of no return, desperate to be with him. Hence gets what he wants, the throne and the girl.And they’re happy , for a while.

Until the issue of their marriage comes up,and everyone around Soo reminds her that she cannot marry him and be queen.The whole court urges So to marry Yeonhwa and he holds back, stubborn and he refuses to listen to them.Again Hae Soo ,has to give her approval and seem weak or the bad person.She is willingly talking the burn out for their relationship, both publicly and personally. Meanwhile , So grows more powerful.And he doesn’t back down this time.

He gets more stubborn and set in his ways,and refuses to listen to anyone else, especially now that his word is practically the law.He distances himself from Soo because he’s failed to live up to his promises of marrying her and starts channeling his anger to the Court and Jung .So he doesn’t hold back and starts unleashing his power and vengeance , beginning with Jung when he opposes him, and forbidding him to see his mother.When his mother protests , he forbades him to see her , which causes the queen to go on a hunger protest, asking to see her Jung.

We see Soo try to stop it , yes out of concern for Jung. But only because it’s in her character and she foresees the disastrous consequences, that it could possibly haunt him in the end and it did, in a way he never saw coming. When she sends for him ,he doesn’t reprimand or argue with her,he directly threatens her with punishment , proving he’s finally become the King he’s destined to be. Everything that was Wang So has already submerged into his conscience and only Gwangjong remains.

How could anyone expect her to understand him, when the man who loves her and risked his life for her is now threatening her with punishment, while instilling fear in her ?He’s being a King more than anything else. Jung arrives late and the queen dies.He later berates her for not taking his side, and walks away before she has the chance to apologise or provide comfort. He’s broken yes, but he is also unwilling to listen.Then, he proceeds to kill Chaeryung without an explanation, probably expecting her understanding in that matter too. People still blame Hae Soo , like they do for everything. But it was too much of a shock for her, just watching as she is beaten to death,without any anticipation or explanation.So explains his reason, but it’s too late, the graphic images of what she saw still reel in her head and no excuses can properly apply, because he really did kill her without warning. The reality of the palace becomes clear to Soo, and she makes up her mind.

Meanwhile, Wang So is furious and he blames Wook for all this,and when he goes to his room.He finds Yeonhwa , sitting there trying to trick him into consummating the marriage,but he sees through it.He makes a deal with her to get his revenge against Wook and it involves making the same promise he made to Soo.

So executes his plan to stand up to Wook, but he’s shocked to see Soo stand up to him. He states that he doesn’t like it but he listens to her this time, only because she doesn’t give him the opportunity to walk away by kneeling and she comes up with a good reason.

People point out and sometimes even write lengthy metas defending his actions, romanticising it and citing it as the greatest example of love to ever exist. But they fail to understand why this is considered problematic.It’s problematic because it’s so twisted and it’s bound to have consequences. He’s out here framing his brother, using consummation with his sister as colleteral, and is deriving pleasure out of momentary revange using his position of authority.As if that’s not that’s not bound to have consequences.

As viewers, we have an idea of how conniving Wook is. But the  idea Goryeo’s society has of Wook is he is a wise scholar an benevolent individual, a brother in law of the king who would be gracious enough to marry off his sister to him. He has the ministers in his fingertips, and if the King were to kill him over a bird, it would just prove what they and history have been thinking : That he’s a tyrant and a wolf dog who’s only good at killing people. He’s early into his reign and it would certainly build up a reputation that would not get him respect from the ministers.On top of that this was a guy that blamed himself for killing his brother for years.

And that’s exactly why Soo stops him. Sure she doesn’t want Wook to die, but also doesn’t want So to be remembered only as a bloody king. But this riles up his suspicion and Jealousy and increases his paranoia more than anything else.Next we have Jung , who finally has a chance to use his decree. He goes to Soo, who basically says what she’s been saying all along.  That she wants to leave and there’s no hope for their relationship.She’s honest with him and even confesses her hate.He again doesn’t listen to her and walks away, vowing he’ll never let her go.

And it finally allows Yeonhwa to execute her plans meticulously and for Wook to have his revenge. Wook confesses his past relationship with Soo, and it literally turns his brain upside down.He cannot believe the woman he loves used to love his enemy and she still sticks up for him. And it’s all it takes for his paranoia to sweep in and convince himself that she has never loved him and it was all Wook. He says he’ll never see her again and agrees to let her out of the palace.

I guess his actions after this split truly exhibit the many layers of his characters: his insecurity, his hypocrisy, pride ,vulnerability and jealousy. Insecurity in his feelings for Soo, that she loves someone more than him. That she never loved him and has abandoned him.Jealousy in the fact that she loved and married someone else.I guess these overwhelming emotions make him really vulnerable, and that’s what makes him cry, and still keeps tabs on her, because despite all the anger and hatred , he cannot forget her.

Besides, we cannot discuss his aspects of villainy without discussing his childhood, which is really the cusp of where it all begin. Personally, I think he only survived because he’s Wang So. He Fought back.He never let anyone disrespect him,and he found his own way to derive respect.  I think he deliberately improved on his skills, from combat to education, he improved because he wanted to prove to everyone that’s he much more than what they think. He doesn’t care for people. He only cares for his people. He’s only selfless towards those he cares about.

And that’s where his final and most darkest qualities surface: his pride and hypocrisy.All of his actions, from the beginning to the end, have been influenced by his “pride”. There’s no denying that it’s a big part of his character and the writer made it clear from the get go. We cannot say if it’s because of his traumatic childhood, and how he was treated as a hostage or it really is a underlining element of his personality, but Wang So is all about proving thing this to people. Proving that he is someone who’s much better what they think and getting back at them for putting him through what they did. It’s Soo that makes him see that power can be something more . That it can be used to do something more and help people. It’s she who makes him selfless.

But with that pride and pent up anger, he has this side of him that’s bit of an hypocrite. Why else do you think he’s able to continuously make excuses for all his actions, from the beginning? I’m not sure if it’s because he’s him or hypocrisy is a dominant gene that gets passed on to every member of the Goryeo Royal family and runs fresh in their veins , but just like all of them, he’s an hypocrite. He only sees his side of things.

He blames Soo for leaving him , but he left her as well. Two years prior, and even now. He accuses her of not trusting him and not understanding him , but as we can see , he’s the one with trust issues and he’s the one who misunderstood her feelings. He spies on her and assumes she never loved him , and really, this time he cannot blame anyone else but himself for his actions. It’s because of these actions that they have such a painful separation. He’s so involved with himself at this point , that besides seeing only his side of things, he views himself someone who’s wronged, but he never sees how much he’s actions hurt and affect the ones he’s loved .

There’s no denying that that throne makes him very vulnerable that his insecurities and guard go up times higher , making him isolate people even more. But it’s what makes him such a hypocrite , because he can only see his side of things and excuse anything he does. Especially now that he’s a king , he believes his judgement is better than everyone. Besides, anyone in a position of power, have to be a bit of an hypocrite to begin with. The trick is to not let it completely consume you. But it does and it isolates him, and its what causes him to shut himself from everyone.

In retrospect, I still vehemently hold on to my view that it was best for Hae Soo to leave the palace.With his tunnel vision, once again he never sees the danger he puts Soo in. He tells Soo that she would be his only Queen, but he says the same thing to Yeonhwa to make her give up on her brother. But he doesn’t see that she expects to have him all to herself and be  his “only queen”. So when he plans on making Soo his “second queen” and she has a child on the way, how did he think Yeonhwa will react? With open acceptance and genuine Joy? He’s so blind to her problems and caught up in his struggle, it does not even occur to him how there’s no hope for her in the palace.

All of this problems arise because of all the reasons that I’ve discused in detail. I’m not denying Hae Soo has a part in it, but this is a post focusing on Wang So’s flaws. It’s because he’s possessive, stubborn, arrogant and ignorant that he reaches the conclusion that she never loved him, believes the words of a random spy and spies on her and sees what he wants to see.

There is this thing where people always compare his love to Jung’s and argue that Jung loved better, because he didn't expect anything in return.I would like to remind them that there was a time and Soo didn’t reciprocate Wang so’s feelings and he was ready to sacrifice everything for her. He would drink poison for her. But it all changed when she started loving him back. It’s hard predict how Jung would’ve been if she reciprocated his feelings, but I’m sure he wouldn't’ t have been the same. But where his love triumphs  over So is in the respect he had for her as a person. Jung respected Soo. He respected her choices, her likes and her personality. Whereas,So only agreed with aspects of her personality and disagreed with the rest. He never respected or understood her as a whole. There was no acceptance of her as whole. His love is great but it’s also very suffocating, because there’s no space for her as a whole , flawed person. In his love there’s only space for the Soo he wants her to be: kind, understanding, fun, naive,loyal, and smart. But the stubborn, arrogant, independent, impulsive Soo that can argue back and make her own decisions ? Let’s just say there’s a reason her never listens to her in the first place.

Which is why when the news of her death reaches him and he reads the letters,  The consequences of his actions finally hit and the reality is so cruel he cannot handle it. Which is why he is in so much denial,that he is rushing in the hopes of seeing her one last time. But this time, he’s simply too late.

And this was partly a consequence of his own actions, but it finally hits him: He’s all alone now.He finally understands Hae Soo and longs for her.

The thing is, it wouldn’t have ended up all like this if he had listened to her or apologised. But like mentioned above, all his insecure,dark qualities come together, and bring out his worst self.

But ironically, that’s exactly what Goryeo needed at the time.They needed a king who’s stubborn, not easily influenced and full of pride that will withstand till the end.A king who is powerful enough to push his law through, despite opposition from noble families. And now, he has more than enough reasons to influence him and push him through those decisions. From his horrible childhood to Soo, everything stood as a reason for shaping him into who he is set to become: The powerful 4th King of Goryeo.

But its sadly it’s exactly those qualities destroys his relationship with Soo. As long as he is king, she will be used as his weakness.

My main point in writing this lengthy, tedious post is because to be honest, I’ve seen way to many Wang So stans in this app, who in order to support him, bash and blame other characters for his actions, and look at him through dreamy, swoon worthy glasses. They overlook his flaws and make defences for it, but the things flaws are very much a central point of his character.

He is a passionate lover and an astute King. But he is also is an experienced and skilled warrior, a possessive and jealous man who has no problem with scheming or giving out harsh punishments.He is childish, with trust and mommy issues and he has never recovered from the scars of his childhood. All of which eventually shapes the man he becomes.

Though it’s romantic that he states he will find her wherever she is, even if he does, it won’t bring him the romance or closure he desires. Why? Because, he still has to face the consequences of his own actions. He has to answer why he never came to get her, why he thought she never loved him etc..

He has to learn from his mistakes and understand Soo better.He needs to learn to differentiate love, and to trust her more.He needs to handle his anger properly and not confuse and channel it towards Soo. He needs to respect and understand Soo better, and all of that takes time.And space. And lots of conversations and privacy.

It’s ironic but once again through on his own words, he’s set to prove himself all over again. For all the discussions on “fate”, it seems like he’s deciding his own “fate” now. Again, very heroic but the road to it is very difficult, and there’s no Hae Soo to bear the brunt of making difficult decisions anymore.

But the real question is, whether is the same qualities that drew them apart, will it lead him to her now?

I suppose that’s the roundabout irony we’re all rooting for in the end.

[mercurial-madhouse]

@lululawrence asked, Hiiiii could you write me a friends to lovers a/b/o drabble?? Pairing of your choice! I'd be super happy if you REALLY leaned into the pining and/or resolution of pining :D

>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*< 

Got My Heart Out (You’re the truth I can’t explain)

“Alright?”

Louis doesn’t turn from the table he’s leaning over, arms spread as he stares at the array of tools—ropes, knives, grappling hooks, other items to help them go unnoticed—neatly laid out before him. “Should I be?”

The harsh light from the bare bulb on the far end illuminates the knot of tension between Louis’ shoulders. Compared to Louis’s countless crossings, Harry’s not nearly as experienced, but if Harry thought the journey perilous before, it’s deadly now.

“Hate that word, should. Nothing good ever comes from it,” Harry mutters.

His nostrils flare at the barrage of emotions coming off of Louis that up until a week ago no alpha could smell. Unease, doubt, and anger seep into the grounding scent of sandalwood and snapdragons. Neither are found in the concrete jungle of a city they live in. Even Louis’ scent is an anomaly, uplifting and invigorating.

Though it’s only Louis’s decision and Harry’s got no right, he still struggles against every alpha instinct wanting to call the whole mission off. Louis’s too special to him. Harry keeps his arms crossed, gripping his biceps to urge his body to stay in place.

He’s not subtle enough. Louis catches his reaction. Harry’s not surprised. Louis was already incredibly perceptive before he presented with all the extra-sensory skills of an omega.

Jaw clenching, Louis hikes his coat up further, popping the collar in an attempt to cover his scent. “Well you shouldn’t be here, Haz.”

Irritation pricks at the back of Harry’s neck. He clamps his alpha down. Most of their small band is asleep in the other room, gathering what little rest they can before the trip across the border tomorrow, but Harry’s right where he needs to be. With Louis.

Harry closes the distance between them until the inebriating scent from the newly-presented omega nearly overwhelms him. Learning to balance both genders with their pheromones yet to settle, those who’ve just presented have the strongest scents.

In this world, Louis’ scent is a death sentence. They both know they’re racing fate, luck, and time now. If all goes well, and that’s a massive if, they’ve got just enough scent blocker to mask Louis for the crossing.

Louis sucks in a breath, eyes closing. He holds it in as Harry steps up beside him.

“Staying away from you isn’t going to help.” It’s never helped Harry at least. Some mornings it feels like his only reason to keep risking it all is for the chance to be near Louis. “You need to get used to our scents or it’ll slow you down too.”

Being this close to Louis is a lesson in strength Harry thought he didn’t need anymore. Everything about Louis was intoxicating to Harry before Louis presented. Now his alpha has joined this grim game. Harry may as well have presented yesterday rather than two years ago at sixteen for all the fighting he’s having to do.

“I’m twenty. This shouldn’t be fucking happening. Who d’you know that presented after eighteen?” Louis’s fingers curl against the tabletop, nails catching in old scars gouged into the wood.

Head down, messy strands shield most of his face from Harry’s view. Harry longs to run his fingers through them, find out if Louis’s hair is as silky as it seems. Harry digs his nails into his palms until twin flashes of pain shoot up his arms, popping the desire before it can lodge in his muscles and become action.

“Been smuggling omegas over the border for four years because at least Southbank treats them as equals.” Louis’ shoulders tense. “If Westminster finds out about me they’ll put a price on my head and send every soldier they’ve got after me. Fuck knows what Southbank will do, but a male omega? Even if I don’t have- they sure as hell won’t let me go free.”

Harry refuses to dwell on what Louis didn’t say. Keeping Louis’ second gender a secret from everyone but the five of them is going to be near impossible enough. Even after a week, the memory of the powerful shock-laced scent pervading their home the morning Louis presented has Harry’s heart beating double-time and his mouth watering. They won’t have much warning before his first heat and right now none of them have any ideas what they’ll do when it happens.

He wishes he had any answers at all.

Louis jerks a hand, motioning at the supplies. “And now I’m stuck trying not to be sick from the thought of picking up a knife. Cards are really stacked right now, Haz.”

And they’ve got no choice. Success hinges on following through with the plan. They don’t have time to change the rendezvous hour. If they’re not over the border in Westminster on time, the group of refugees on the other side risk capture and Louis’s whole system in danger of discovery.

Louis ducks his chin, shaking his head before brushing his fringe aside. The action is ingrained in Louis when he’s agitated, but Harry nearly groans as a fresh wave of sandalwood hits him.

He latches onto Louis’s wrist. “Don’t—!” He needs to back up. It’s not fair to put this on Louis.

Harry forgets what he needed to do when Louis’s head jolts up, facing Harry for the first time since Harry got here. Harry didn’t realize how close they’d gotten. Features a little paler than usual, the dark circles under Louis’s eyes are stark in the unfiltered light as his brows knit in confusion.

Of course Louis wouldn’t understand. He’s been a beta for twenty years.

Harry forces himself to let go, but he only makes it as far as gripping Louis’s coat instead. “Try not to—” his head jerks as he nods. “That makes it stronger.”

Harry’s not sure if Louis heard him.

Noses nearly touching, Louis sways once, reeling forward then away. Pupils blown wide, his gaze flicks from Harry’s eyes to his lips. Louis’s forehead thuds into his own, eyes fluttering shut.

“Shit,” Louis breathes, shaky fingers winding into the curls at the nape of Harry’s neck. He inhales, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Smell like fucking treacle, Hazza.”

Fuck. Louis’s been deliberate about staying away from Harry, but how long has he kept himself at arm’s length from everyone?

With all his willpower tangled up in not tipping Louis up to catch those lips against his own, Harry’s arms wrap unbidden around Louis’s waist, crushing their hips together. Harry’s alpha settles with Louis against him, but his heart explodes.

It’s only Louis’s omega talking. An omega that’s just presented in a dangerous land and hasn’t been touched in days.

Latching onto that mantra to keep his mind clear, Harry cradles the back of Louis’s head instead, drawing Louis’s face down to his neck. He doesn’t need to say anything. Louis’s instincts kick in and he breathes deeply, body curving into Harry’s as he scents him. A deep shiver rocks through Louis, his muscles relaxing.

Harry tightens his grip, suppressing a shudder as Louis’s tongue grazes his throat. “Lou—”

Harry’s too busy fighting himself to resist when Louis launches himself backwards. Eyes wide but clear, Louis starts to shove fingers through his hair but stops. He twists back to the table, flattening his palms against the surface like he’s forcing them to not wander.

“Go, Haz.”

Anxiety blossoms in Harry’s chest. “Lou, you—”

“Please just,” Louis cuts off, inhales, the hard edge gone when he says, “I need you to fucking go.”

Louis knows better. Three of his siblings are omegas. Everything they’re doing here revolves around helping omegas. Leaving won’t help Louis.

Harry presses his hand to the small of Louis’s back, hoping he’ll turn. “You need to—”

“I don’t care what my omega needs right now.” Louis throws the growl over his shoulder then stiffens, like he’s struggling to keep the commanding tone in his voice. “I’m still the head of this op and I need you to go.”

If it were any other omega, Harry would be grappling with his alpha all over again. Instead he places the entire room between them, pausing in the doorway. “Don’t sleep alone tonight. It’ll help. You know it will.”

Louis doesn’t respond. With one last look at the tension winding Louis’ shoulders again, Harry bites down every urge to stay with him. He disappears from the room, sending up a silent prayer that tomorrow’s mission won’t unravel at the seams.

>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<

(Oh my! I’m in the middle of working on my first ABO fic for the @1daboficfest so how awesome was this chance to practice the trope?! Hopefully there’s enough pining! \o/ Thank you for the prompt, lovey! There was no way this one wanted to be less than 1k. Heh.)

Have something else you’d like to see me write? Go wild! Pairing, situation, feeling… Send me an ask (anon or not) completing the sentence ‘I wish you’d write a fic where…’

Superpowers Drabble

Invisible Drabble

Only one bed (H-POV)

Only one bed (L-POV)

[pennamesmith]

Return of the Skeletor

A family reunion. Find more Skeletor stories here! 

*

Micah remembered the other world. 

Most people could, in fact. The whole planet was affected. They’d all lived a life they thought was perfect. They’d all imagined something intangible. The memories were faded and fragmentary, like the recollection of a dream, but everyone was certain it had really happened. 

Even if nothing that had happened was real. 

At first Micah didn’t realize anyone else had shared in the dream. He’d lost track of time on Beast Island long ago, and when the collapsing portal closed around him he only assumed it was one of the despairing wasteland’s many tricks. He never had long to dwell on the matter, either. Soon after finding himself returned to reality (he could remember shouting to Angella, reaching for her, trying to tell her “I’m not dead!”) Micah had met the loud and unusual Princess Entrapta. And after her there came…

“She-Ra! It’s She-Ra!” a nasally voice shrieked. 

Micah was startled out of his reverie by a sudden clattering of hooves. The door to his Bright Moon office burst inwards and he was presented with the sight of a breathless Swift Wind. Sitting astride the rainbow-winged unicorn was one of Entrapta’s bots, a lanky drone she’d named ‘Skeletor.’

“The time has come!” Skeletor said. 

“It’s true!” Swift Wind confirmed. “I felt the sacred bond return just a minute ago. Adora and the others are back from Eternia! Darla is over the Whispering Woods right now!”

“What?” Micah jumped to his feet, abandoning his desk without a second thought. It was covered in a mountain of paperwork: royal records, his regent’s duties, and the calendar pages where he’d marked off every day since Glimmer and the rest of the Princess Alliance left for their dangerous mission to another universe. He rushed to the door where Swift Wind was standing. 

Skeletor reached out and helped Micah onto the horse’s back. “Join hands as we bring together our mystic powers!” the robot cried. Once Micah was settled, Swift Wind turned and leapt out the nearest window. They sailed through the skies. 

“What’s going on? Are they all right?” Micah asked, with undisguised worry. 

Swift Wind banked, soaring over the tree line. “I’m not sure! The ship is under control but — look, there it is!” 

Darla, the rebuilt First Ones ship, was descending rapidly from the sky over the treetops. Her flight was steady, but parts of the hull were damaged, and smoke trailed from one wing. Suddenly the ship lurched and plummeted into the trees, vanishing from sight. A plume of vegetation went flying as it plowed to a smouldering stop. 

Micah felt his stomach twist. “We need to get closer!” he called out in a panic. 

“I can take you there!” Skeletor declared, urging Swift Wind toward the ground. They touched down by the edge of a long path of smoking destruction that stretched deep into the woods. 

“They must have landed near here,” Skeletor deduced, observing the massive trench in the ground. He hopped off the horse’s back and ran ahead, making anxious utterances as he went. 

Micah dismounted and walked beside Swift Wind. “I hate this,” Micah confessed. “The staying behind, I mean. At least on Beast Island I was the only one I had to worry about, and I was in control of my own survival. But having to stand by while Glimmer goes into danger? I’m so proud of her, yet I’m also so scared.” 

“I know what you mean,” Swift Wind answered. “I trust Adora, but I also worry about her, like, all the time. Whenever we’re apart I get so restless. I just feel powerless!”  

“Sometimes letting them find their own way is all we can do,” Micah mused. 

They came into a clearing in the woods. Darla was there, sparking and steaming but generally intact. Skeletor hammered on the door. 

“Here, let me try to get you out!” he called. 

Something inside the ship made a noise. There was a hiss and a jet of steam, and Skeletor tumbled backwards, landing with a squawk at Micah and Swift Wind’s feet. They all stared at Darla, holding their breath expectantly.

The front hatch of the spaceship popped open. Entrapta erupted out of it, tumbling down the landing ramp in a ball of frizzled hair. She pulled her goggles up. 

“Aha! We made it!” she crowed, taking in her surroundings. “All in the right dimension and everything!” 

She reached into the recesses of her hair and emerged with a haggard Hordak. “Your piloting saved us! I knew you could do it!” she told him proudly. 

Hordak squinted through half-lidded eyes. “Is it over?” he muttered. “Are we still alive?”

“Yep!” Entrapta wobbled to her feet and gathered her partner up in her ponytails. “Now, let’s get you a checkup and some rest. You’ve had a stressful voyage!” 

She suddenly seemed to notice the gathered onlookers. “Oh! Hi Skeletor. Hi Bird Horse. Hi Micah. Guess what? You’re gonna love this!” Entrapta turned back to the ship. “Safe to disembark, crew!” she yelled, before trotting off with Hordak.

“Now we’ll see how clever you are!” Skeletor said. 

Mermista peeked around the door. “Ground!” she cried, throwing herself across the dirt in relief. “I never thought I’d miss you so much!” 

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad a flight,” Sea Hawk cajoled, helping her to her feet. “Why, I can think of a dozen — no, two dozen more harrowing trips I’ve taken in the Dragon’s Daughter XXVIII.” 

“You fishmonger,” Skeletor scoffed. 

Frosta was the next one out, followed closely by Perfuma and Scorpia. “Eternia was amazing!” the teenaged ice princess announced, brandishing a pair of frozen fists. “I got to punch so much stuff!” 

“Come on, it wasn’t all violence,” Perfuma pleaded. 

“Yeah, we learned a bunch about friendship and responsibility too,” Scorpia agreed. 

“Punch! Punch!” Frosta said. 

“You’re becoming evil, I can sense it!” Skeletor hummed approvingly. “Excellent!” 

Catra and Adora came next, and they were accompanied by a young man Micah had never seen before. He had a pink shirt, bobbed blond hair, and bore an uncanny resemblance to Adora herself. A sword hung on his back. He blinked as he emerged into the light. 

Swift Wind’s jaw dropped. “Adora! Is that…?” 

“Hey guys!” Adora grinned sheepishly. “So, funny story. You remember how when I was a baby I was taken from a hidden First Ones faction that nobody has ever been able to find since?” 

She held her hands out, presenting the newcomer. “Well, uh, we found ‘em! This is my twin brother, Adam!” 

Adam smiled and waved. “Hello everybody,” he chirped. 

“Brother?” Swift Wind sputtered. 

“He-Man!” Skeletor bellowed. 

The group fell into a chattering commotion, but Micah was hardly paying attention. Glimmer and Bow had appeared at the top of the ramp, holding each other as they looked out. Emotions that went beyond words swam in the young queen’s eyes. 

Adora saw where Micah was looking and quickly pulled her brother away. “We’ll tell you the whole story later, sir! Trust me, it’s hilarious. Now come on, I gotta show you around Etheria, bro.”

“Sure thing, sis,” Adam replied, grinning hugely. They pounded their fists together, adding their own sound effects as they did so, and marched off laughing. 

“They have been doing that the entire. Trip. Back,” Catra groaned, following close behind the pair. “Somebody save me.” 

“You furry coward,” muttered Skeletor. 

At the entrance to the ship, Glimmer and Micah hugged each other fiercely. When they finally broke, the old king could see that his daughter was smiling through her tears. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Glimmer sniffled. “So much happened. You wouldn’t believe how scary things got! Oh, but I totally had everything under control.” 

“I know you did,” Micah smiled back. But he could tell there was more. 

Glimmer’s face turned serious. “Dad,” she said shakily, tripping over her own words. “Listen. Entrapta’s theories about the other dimension were right. When we — I mean, didn’t know if…” 

Bow stepped in. “Your highness, I think there’s someone you should see.” He beckoned gently. Still at a loss for words, Glimmer nodded and took her father’s hand, leading him inside the ship. 

Micah’s heart was racing even before she rose from the chair and turned to face him. His breath caught when he saw the spreading wings, the shining light, the smiling face that he remembered so clearly. 

Their eyes met. It was a miracle. 

Just like on the island, a part of him couldn’t believe this was really happening. But it was. 

They both reached out. They’d mourned each other once. Their hands met. 

“Micah?” she asked, hardly believing it herself. 

“Angie?” 

*

Outside, both the princesses and their well-wishers had gathered around Adam, excitedly showing off the wonders of their planet. He gazed with delight at everything, marveling in the magical light of Etheria. His laugh brimmed with kindness. 

Skeletor elbowed his way through the crowd. “I can’t let any of you delay me! Out of my way, now!” he jabbered. “This is no time for jokes!” 

He made it to where Adora stood with her brother and glared. Adam turned in surprise, not sure what to expect. They stared at each other. 

Skeletor held his arms wide. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment!” he cried. “Take this, He-Man!” 

Then he lunged forward, and wrapped Adam in an enormous hug. 

“He-Man, I am your friend!” 

[danger-xylophones]

Major Buir (Plo Koon x reader)

{masterlist}

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: Unedited, Plo Koon trying to flirt but not quite understanding how to make the swoon, Wolffe being the embarrassed son, potential second hand embarrassment for the reader because I think that Plo is very sweet but is not well versed in the art of flirting. Clones being dumb and cute. Angry Wolffe, potential fluff overload-I got a little carried away. 

Notes: Yeeee it’s my first time writing for Plo-would it be wrong to tag?...I’m gonna do it. @a-dorin , I would like to thank you for inspiring me to write this. I find myself steadily becoming a Plo simp and your fics have only accelerated my downward spiral. 

Also, this was only supposed to be about 1.5k words...woops

……………………………………

“From this, we can conclude that the remnants of the Ehterium cluster supernova would provide a suitable route around this Separatist controlled rat’s nest.” You sniffed carefully and lowered the pointer to tap against the ground but it landed on your foot. Swiftly, you moved it again so it actually tapped against the durasteel floor of the briefing room. A few chuckles slipped from the gathered cloned men and Jedi generals currently scanning over your notes on the holomap that had witnessed the little slip-up. “Though I can understand the hesitance-which is why I have also taken the liberty of charting a different course around the cluster entirely. It would take much longer though and would put you in more danger in the long run as you’d be exposed and out of range for too...long.” You trailed off, suddenly self-conscious of the overuse of the word ‘long’. Even though you’d worked for the GAR since the start of the clone wars (and technically before that if you counted all the academy training) you’d never gotten the hang of the ‘intimidating analytics and tactician officer’ schtick despite trying. You were often compared to a little mouse in the academy-even when you were wielding a blaster. But that hardly mattered when you were one of the top tacticians in the army and the Jedi were very kind to you. Especially General Plo Koon. He was incredibly patient with you as you adjusted to life with the 104th after being transferred from the 205th and he gave off this very warm and loving vibe. 

And thankfully your new general was among the Jedi present-calmly looking at you with hands clasped behind his back, respectfully silent as the other masters muttered over the maps you’d provided. You met his eyes uncertainly. While it wasn’t like this was your first time pitching a new tactic to a general it was the first time you’d ever pitched an idea to so many people (eight, to be exact) that were so high ranking. The room was currently occupied by yourself, Depa Billaba, Obi Wan Kenobi, Cody, Anakin, Ahsoka, Rex, Commander Wolffe, and Plo Koon and while none of them were ever rude to you it was hard to not be intimidated. You weren’t the one that had to go through with this plan-they did. They were the ones in danger. Sure, you could lose your job but they could lose their lives. So, you looked to Plo Koon as he would be sure to tell you what he thought. 

Perhaps he was so open with you because he could read you better than anyone else? He always knew what you were thinking and knew exactly what to say to help you. If you were honest, it was no wonder why you two were fast friends. And it wasn’t a surprise when you realized that certain feelings had crept up on you. Although you had resigned yourself to never act on them for both of your sakes there was no helping the admiration that prompted you to value the Kel Dor’s opinion over anyone else’s. And just like so many times before, it seemed like Plo knew this for he offered a single nod to you when your eyes met. The tension fled from your shoulders instantly as a silent sigh of relief slipped from you. Plo Koon approved. You had done good. He knew how hard you had worked on the new plans and could cite several instances where he had stumbled upon you slumped over your desk as the testimony to your dedication. Each time the Kel Dor quietly lifted you to your feet and encouraged you to leave the work for the next day as he escorted you back to your quarters. Once the two of you got there, he’d always, always place a secure hand on your shoulder with a squeeze that just barely made his talons dig into your greys as he bid you goodnight before sweeping away with one last order to get some sleep tossed over his shoulder. It was similar small gestures like those that gave you hope that were your situations different-he being a normal citizen like you and not a Jedi with no trace of war-that maybe something could happen. But alas…

“I must say, Major, I do believe you’ve outdone yourself.” Kenobi was the first among the Jedi to speak with one hand clasping his chin and the other clasping his elbow in typical Obi Wan fashion as he scanned over the details once more. 

You dipped your head with a carefully practiced, “thank you, General” as your immediate reply though deep inside, your pride swelled. This was possibly your most ambitious plan yet and one that had presented significant challenges. While you were a good tactician, your strong suits lie in terrestrial combat and not space. It felt great to be validated. 

“Yes but…” Depa Billaba began with her arms dutifully crossed over her chest as she scrutinized further, “what are we to do about this asteroid field that cuts through our path?” The Jedi asked calmly and you brightened at the mention of it because you had banged your head against it every which way. The asteroid field was the one thing you couldn’t accurately account for as the data you had received on it initially had been outdated. And you explained as much to her. 

“However, I am happy to tell you that I may have found a way to...acount for this hazard.” You cleared your throat and leaned over the console to zoom in on the area in question. “This asteroid field is large, messy, and problematic, and had you asked me how to avoid it earlier I wouldn’t have had an answer. But, I think that the best course of action is to separate-to make it look as though the three of you-” you pointed to the generals you were specifying, “are escorting Depa Billaba till she comes in range with the nearby medical station. That way if any Separatists follow you, you can still maintain the element of surprise because I know that if we can make General Billaba’s starship appear vulnerable that they will go for it. Worst case scenario, you dust off the guns a little preemptively. Best case-” again, you clicked another button that revealed a dotted red path through the holo projection, “you can use the asteroids as extra cover while you navigate through this path.” You paused a moment, eyes shifting to gauge the reactions of everyone. From across the table, your eyes met with Commander Wolffe’s who raised an eyebrow at you. “Clone intelligence has informed me that this path might be outdated as well but we will be active on the comms to offer guidance through the field as you go.” Commander Wolffe gave a firm nod and, again, the Jedi and clones retreated inwards to try and think of any situations that they would need to be prepared for. In the weighted silence that followed, you were keenly aware of Plo Koon drawing closer to you as he methodically circled the console before you. His hands remained clasped behind his back the entire time and you couldn’t help but watch him as he approached. 

He came to a stop right next to you-close enough for your arms to brush and for his warmth to seep through the fabric of your greys. Plo Koon remained quiet for a little longer, leaving you more time to fight the instinct that told you to lean closer to him before he moved his arms. His taloned hand brushed the back of your own and his vambrace bumped your forearm as he brought his arms up to cross over his torso. You couldn’t help but dwell on the feeling of even that minuscule contact which almost caused you to miss the compliment he paid your way. 

“Uh...th-thank you, General.” You coughed into your fist in a not so subtle way to correct your stutter. “But really, my plan is only good because my data was good. You should really thank your men that got me the information.” 

The Kel Dor made a huffing sound that would have sounded like a laugh if not for the heavy overlay from his mask. “Believe me, Major, I will but you do deserve some of the credit.” He stressed, even going so far as to grasp your shoulder very briefly. You could still feel the imprint of his touch when he moved his hand away. 

“Anakin, you’re being unusually quiet.” Obi Wan saved you from further implosion as he addressed his former padawan. You and Plo Koon both turned your attention back to the other occupants in the room and you were unsettled to find General Skywalker’s eyebrows furrowed in scrutiny as he glanced between you and the Jedi Master. Perhaps more alarming though was Wolffe’s face. He was staring at Plo Koon with what you could only describe as a bug-eyed look. 

“Just thinking, master.” Skywalker eventually answered. Your jaw tensed in uncertainty though the younger man said nothing more regarding the visual dissection of your interaction. 

The meeting continued for a few more minutes with you working to finalize the more minute details and to take measures to establish backup plans that would most likely be abandoned by the Jedi at the first sign of conflict and the Jedi began to disperse with their own CO’s. Eventually, that left just you, Wolffe, and Plo Koon. At the first sign that the meeting was adjourned, you began to pack your things up and to log off the computers but instead of leaving you to your own devices like you thought he would, Plo Koon remained with you. He casually waited at the console you had left him at with his hands clasped before his diaphragm, a common gesture for him you’d noticed, while Wolffe awkwardly hovered near the door. 

“Was there anything else you needed, General?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder at the Kel Dor. He stood up straight and approached with light footsteps. 

“Not particularly, Major, but I would like to congratulate you once again on another excellently thought out plan.” Plo Koon’s voice was as calm as it ever was but there was something there-a slight lilt you weren’t familiar with or maybe it was better described as a squeak? Slowly spinning on your heel, you turned to face him. 

“Well,...thank you, General. It...It’s my job.” A part of you swore at your inability to take a compliment properly while the other parts were all focused on Plo Koon. Sure, he’d complimented you on your plans before (he did during the meeting) but he had always reserved the more serious praise for after the missions and the debriefings. He’d never stayed after the preliminary meetings. 

“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer if you called me Plo Koon-it feels far too impersonal to be addressed as ‘general’ outside of meetings.” The Kel Dor explained with a raised hand to stop you from saying anything else till he had said his piece. 

You blinked. Once. Twice. Before eventually sliding your gaze over to Wolffe who had a hand clasped over his eyes. That gesture only added kindling to the confused fire as you returned to the man in front of you. There didn’t seem to be anything amiss-his mask looked in place and to your knowledge, he hadn’t been in the medbay recently. “As...whatever you wish...Plo.” You swallowed, his name-something you’d said in your head thousands of times before-felt foreign on your tongue. “You can of course call me ‘Y/n’...then.” You offered uncertainly. 

“Of course,” he echoed with a nod. “I’ve always thought your name fitting.” 

“Thank you…?” You asked uncertainly. 

“I just mean that it is a strong name and you bear it well.” 

“...” Again, you couldn’t help but look over at Wolffe who had taken his face in his hands in what could only be described as a picture of absolute mortification. His helmet was awkwardly squished into his chest as he shook his head from side to side, lips moving as he formed words you couldn’t hear from where you stood. “I...uh...I like your name too, Plo. It’s gentle…?” You tried as you returned your attention to the Kel Dor and raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. 

He brightened, back straightening up as he continued to regard you. “Thank you, I’m rather fond of it myself.” A silence fell over the two of you-horribly tense and laced with an awkward air you had no way of dissipating anytime soon. Averting your eyes from the Jedi, you rolled your lips in and bit them as you fished for something else to say. 

“Is...are you sure there wasn’t anything you needed, General?” You finally asked after shifting on your feet for the third time. 

Plo Koon shook his head, less in a form of denial and more like he was trying to shake himself out of a stupor before answering. “I’m positive but while we’re on the subject of names I feel it is important for me to inform you of the new one circulating amongst my men.” 

You raised your eyebrow at the Jedi, not missing the way Wolffe froze entirely. “A new name for me or…?” 

“For you.” Plo nodded. “It seems as though they’ve taken a liking to calling you ‘Major Buir’.” There was something in his voice that told you he was smiling (or the Kel Dor equivalent of smiling) beneath his anti-ox mask. 

“Buir?” You questioned as your mind raced to dig up a definition for the Mando’a word you’d heard assigned to the Jedi on multiple occasions. “As in what the Wolfpack calls you?” 

“Indeed. Are you familiar with Mando’a?” 

“After fighting alongside the clones?-of course, but I’m afraid most of the terms I know relate to fighting, tactics, or swearing.” You explained promptly with a glance to Wolffe at the mention of his language-the clone in question looked frozen in his spot and it seemed like he was no longer alone as you could swear you saw the familiar red hair of Boost and the silver of Sinker ducking behind the doorway. 

Plo Koon suddenly leaned forward, getting closer to your height as his voice dropped to just above a whisper. “Buir is Mando’a for ‘parent’, Y/n.” Immediately, it felt as though someone had locked you in carbonite-your heart was still warm as it surged with affection for the men of the 104th yet at the same time your body felt the familiar frozen tingle that so often accompanied the sensation of treading through uncharted territory. You were keenly aware of Plo Koon’s proximity and the way your heart sped as a result. In an attempt to combat this you took a deep breath to steady yourself and regain control over your vocal chords. But that was a mistake as Plo’s natural scent infiltrated your senses. He smelled of leather and fresh air, of tea tree and some other piquant scent you couldn’t name that you knew was the remnant of one of the contraband candles he had hidden aboard the ship. It was so him-something the standard issue GAR soap couldn’t hide-that it overwhelmed you in an instant and you found yourself leaning closer. He, a flame, and you, a moth. 

Your lips parted slightly as your face relaxed and you swore that you’d never felt calmer. It felt like someone was wrapping you in a hug; you felt safe, wanted, and adored. “But...if they call you that and are now calling me that…” you began through the sudden dwam your mind floated in. The pieces were starting to fall into place. “Then...General Plo Koon,” your voice suddenly became firm as you forced yourself to step back, “Are you trying to flirt with me?” 

Plo Koon straightened up, his hands finding their usual resting place crossed in front of his stomach. “I am. Was it not obvious?” He asked, his held tilting to the left just slightly. 

You briefly thought back to the somewhat strange string of compliments he’d paid you that lead up to this. “Uh...no, not really.” You explained quickly, eyes now flickering around the room in an attempt to come up with a reply to this revelation. 

“Hmm.” Plo Koon hummed. “My apologies then. Boost encouraged me to be forward-perhaps it was not enough?” You blinked up at him, gaping like a fish-if that was Plo being forward then you wouldn’t have stood a chance if he had taken a subtle route. 

Before you could say anything though, Wolffe’s explosive voice cut through the briefing room as he rounded on Boost. “You told him to do what?!” The commander barked at his red-headed brother who had long since abandoned hiding behind the doorway and was now standing tall with his chest slightly puffed. 

“Oh come on, Vod, we both know the General likes ‘em! And Major Buir wasn’t going to pick up on it anytime soon. I was just trying to help!” He huffed back, practically getting in Wolffe’s face. 

“Meddling isn’t helping, Boost!” 

“I dunno-seemed pretty effective, Commander.” Sinker chimed in. 

Wolffe wheeled on him next. “Don’t tell me you were in on this too!” The one-eyed clone seethed. “If you weren’t my brother I’d-”

“Boys!” You snapped, having heard enough. The three brothers stopped immediately and turned to you; each one bore a similarly sheepish grin. With a shake of your head, you turned back to Plo who had watched on in amusement. “Plo, I’m flattered but...what about your code? I know attachments are dangerous and I wouldn’t want to be the reason you-” 

The Jedi master raised a hand. “My dear, attachments aren’t dangerous. It is how they can be used against a Jedi that is.” 

“I don’t follow.” You tried only for Plo to shake his head. 

“Yes, you do.” The Kel Dor dropped to your height again. “Y/n, if attachments themselves were dangerous Jedi would also be forbidden from being compassionate.” You were stricken silent, painfully aware of the three pairs of eyes currently fixated on the two of you. “But even if they were, I’d still find you worth the risk.” Your heart melted, a soft ‘Plo’ slipping past your lips that made the Kel Dor incline his head. “I know you care for me too, Y/n, so...are you willing to be with me?” 

You bit your lip in thought, a smile creeping across your face as you looked up at the Jedi. “I’m guessing there’s no talking you out of this?” 

“You may try but my feelings will persist.” Plo countered immediately-a lightness to his voice you hadn’t heard before. 

You chuckled briefly and let your gaze slide over to the three clones now curiously peering at the two of you. You took in their identical faces and the imploring looks each one was giving you. When had the Wolfpack wormed their way into your heart? Probably around the same time their general did. You turned back to Plo Koon. “I say...of course,” You smiled and slipped onto your toes to wrap your arms around the Kel Dor’s neck. He returned the embrace with a low hum, his arms slipping around your waist, “ner Jetti.” You could hear whooping and hollering from the entrance to the briefing room. 

……………………………………………………..

The barracks were dark and crowded later that night-many of the men from the 104th had all crammed into one room to watch the holofilm you’d smuggled onto the starship. It had been about three weeks since the fateful meeting that led to the union of you and General Plo Koon and each day had brought a new development in your aliit as word of your relationship spread. For the most part, none of the men were surprised-some even commenting on how Plo Koon was apparently unable to tear his eyes off of you during meetings, holocalls, or your brief but frequent trips to the base on Coruscant. But there were a few who weren’t expecting it at all. 

But everyone you’d told had been supportive. And now as you sat curled into Plo Koon’s side with clones draped all around you as most dozed off in the peaceful barracks you could safely say that you’d found where you belong. 

A tug on your arm pulled you away from the nearly impossible to hear holofilm (the few soldiers that were still awake had turned the volume down so they could let their brothers sleep) and to the clone currently barely awake with his head on your lap. “What is it, Boost?” You asked in a whisper, keenly aware of the sleeping Sinker and Wolffe on Plo’s other side. Still, your voice managed to catch the Jedi’s attention as he turned his head towards the two you. 

The red head stared up at you blearily, a yawn interrupting him before he began speaking. “I just wanted to say that I’m happy you and general buir are together now. And that I’m glad I could help.” 

A breathy laugh escaped you that Plo helped quiet with a hand over your mouth. He dipped his head to gesture at Wolffe who grumbled and curled closer to Sinker in his sleep. In retaliation, you batted his hand away and rolled your eyes at the Kel Dor before looking back at the sleepy man. “I am too, Boost. Thank you.” You answered fondly, letting your head fall against Plo’s shoulder. 

“Like I said-” he cut off to yawn, “happy to help...major...buir.” Boost trailed off as his eyes closed and he wormed his way closer to you. 

You smiled. “Thank you, ner ad’ika.” As Boost officially fell victim to dream land you turned towards Plo who had watched the exchange carefully. The same feeling of being hugged, of being safe, wanted, and loved infiltrated your senses but you now recognized it as Plo’s signature. Still bearing that soft painted smile, you pressed your forehead to his. A final whisper of thank you slipped from you as you resigned yourself to stay in that moment forever. 

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: “Kingdom Come”

This is another one of my early Captain Swan one shots, this one written during the hiatus between 3a and 3b.  The idea entered my head when I first heard "Demons" by Imagine Dragons, which is where the title and the lyrics included come from. There was also some added inspiration from episode 3x06 "Ariel" and episode 3x07 "Dark Hollow". I don't think there is anything in here that goes against show canon; it's mostly imagined thoughts and missing scenes that go along with what has happened, and some guesses at what we may see when "Once" returns again in March.

As always, I have no claim to the show, the characters, or the song used. They belong to their creators and I'm merely celebrating their genius!

Also available on both AO3 and ff.net

“Kingdom Come”

by: @snowbellewells​

He knew that he should have kept his distance. She was shining light in contrast to his dark shadow, and a villainous wretch was the last sort she needed to have dogging her steps. Yet from their first meeting – knife at his throat, fingers fisted in his hair, hard, dangerous eyes hiding tense, nervous fear – he hadn't been able to pull away. He had no choice but to follow her. Call it a compulsion, an addiction, but he was as drunk on her as he had ever been on his chosen rum, and he despaired from the moment she left him chained atop that bloody beanstalk to any time she had left his side since.

The words Cora had hissed at him in warning echoed back to him, "You chose her…and the consequences of that decision…" Whether it was good or bad for either of them didn't seem to matter to his black, barely-beating heart. It was true: he had chosen the Swan girl…

When the days are cold

and the cards all fold

and the saints we see

are all made of gold

When your dreams all fail

and the ones we hail

are the worst of all

and the blood's run stale

It had become even clearer to him after the Echo Caves. When he had bared his soul and the feelings he harbored for her to be met with only silence and Emma's panicked uncertainty, fearless pirate he might be, but Killian Jones knew he should take a step back. The incredible, unparalleled kiss they had shared in the Neverland jungle told him the Savior was as attracted as he, but she was not ready for him. Her sole focus was on her boy – as it should be – but beyond that, she was running scared from anyone else who might try to breach her emotional defenses.

He knew it had been too much, too soon, to unload the truth about feeling that he could love again upon meeting her, and if he had been free to proceed as himself – as Killian Jones wooing a lady properly – he would have never been so clumsily blunt, but instead he was a pirate captain desperate to prove his loyalty and worth, while stuck on Peter Pan's nightmare island. They had needed to get Neal back without further delay and return to seeking Henry, and so he'd had to make clear that he was correct in the way the infernal cave worked. It had not been easy to look into her beautiful, tormented eyes when he had offered his confession, hoping he hadn't driven a wedge which would push her even farther away. It had been even worse to see her run across the bridge formed for her of their painful admissions, right up to Baelfire without giving him a word of comfort, encouragement, or thanks. He felt his shoulders slump in defeat, hurting more than he had imagined, when the cage holding the Crocodile's son vanished at words from Emma which he could not hear, and she fell into the embrace of her first love.

Killian felt her slipping away – if she had ever been within his grasp at all. Bowing his head, he hid the pain in his eyes from Snow White and Prince Charming's curious, searching gazes. Burning fire within him seared away the tentative hope he had foolishly let kindle within. He was nothing but a pirate, as the Prince had reminded him not so long ago. Though he couldn't help wanting to hold her, it was probably for the best…

I wanna hide the truth

I wanna shelter you

But with the beast inside

there's nowhere we can hide

No matter what we breed,

we still are made of greed

This is my kingdom come,

This is my kingdom come

There was no longer any doubt. He was a fool – a sodding, pathetic fool. For him to let a glimmer of belief take root in his chest again was begging for misery, but Killian Jones had felt it growing all the same.

Venturing into the Dark Hollow had been a risky, desperate move at best, but after his face-off with Baelfire and discovering that Emma had not even deemed what had been brewing between them worth mention, self-preservation had not been so high atop his list. He had barely cared what happened to him in their suicide quest to capture Pan's shadow.

Of course, the fiend trying to rip his shadow from his body had jolted things into focus with frightening clarity; especially when he realized that Baelfire was facing the exact same fate, but it was his moniker of 'Hook!' that Emma cried out in horror. That she found the power to magically light their star map shadowcatcher just after her concern for him surfaced was not lost on Killian. No matter how much he cautioned himself not to dwell on it, he couldn't ignore the implications. Emma might not want to admit it, might not be free to show it, but when push came to shove, she cared more for him than she wished to admit.

He had not lied to her when he had promised no deviousness or trickery. If Emma Swan – the Enchanted Forest's lost princess – ever gave him the chance to truly win her heart, he would use no dishonorable means. He understood good form and had once dreamed of being a hero. He might be an orphan and a pirate, not some prince or man of noble blood, and his thirst for revenge had kept him lost in villainy for countless years, but he still had honor, could strive to show it valiantly once again. He knew deep down that she wanted him; what he did not know was if Swan would ever allow herself to acknowledge her desires. He could only vow that he would endeavor to deserve her if she came to him with such a golden opportunity.

Swan needed some joy and lightheartedness in her life. Though she looked fragile, she was hard as steel; she'd had to be for far too long. To him, her beauty was unrivalled, but it was clear that Emma did not see that in herself. He wanted to worship her as she deserved, unfit as he might be to do so. Killian Jones wanted to restore her lad to her, heal the wounds of her past, love her unconditionally, and never leave her side. He trembled to risk pulling her that close; his history proving over and over that anyone he dared to love had suffered a horrible fate. It was better his own heart be crushed than for her to suffer harm by nearness to him. Still, if he fought back the darkness he had sunk into, shouldn't he be allowed to step into the light?

When you feel my heat,

look into my eyes

It's where my demons hide

It's where my demons hide

Don't get too close

It's dark inside

It's where my demons hide

It's where my demons hide

She came to him at the helm of his ship once Henry was truly safe and resting peacefully with Regina watching over him. There had been a scare when Pan had tried to take Henry from them once again, but it appeared Rumplestiltskin's strength had indeed been greater than the ageless boy's, and their antagonist was now trapped safely in Pandora's Box. Sighing as she came to a stop just beyond arm's reach from him and leaned against the Jolly's hull, Emma didn't know if weariness or relief was winning within her at present. She was not sure that seeking out Hook when her emotions were such a mess was a good idea, but it was a need all the same. She was drawn to him like a magnet – impelled to speak to him, to thank him for helping them to get this far…to make sure that he was alright.

Emma knew he had been left hanging, knew he wanted more. What she didn't know was what she had to give. It had nothing to do with still doubting his motives or that he was a pirate; Hook had long since proven himself in her eyes. She simply wasn't sure her heart could let any man in the way he would want and deserve. She found it didn't matter though: she still ached to be near the Captain. He calmed her, despite the turmoil she had been in ever since this voyage started, and his constant support at her back, whatever the situation or whatever her decisions, had given her strength. She wanted to tell him so; if nothing else, he ought to know what it meant to have had him in her corner and that she would not soon forget it.

"Hook…" she began, then shook her head to cut herself off, knowing that wasn't right. Her corrected word came out breathy and more ragged than she had intended, "….Killian…"

He turned to face her when she spoke his name, though he had already known she was there. Just then, she could see everything he was feeling in those ocean blue eyes. Though their decadent depths often smirked, prodded, threatened, or demanded as the situation called for, at that moment they were raw, reflecting mirrors letting her see right into his exposed inner soul.

All the words she had intended to give him flew from her head, and Emma was left standing frozen, swallowing hard and wondering why she wanted to talk at all. With that in mind, she moved to stand before him, just within his reach, when one corner of his mouth tilted up in a tempting smirk as he beckoned her closer. Obviously pleased with himself, he took things a step farther, resting both hand and hook at either side of her waist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles that she could feel the warmth of through the waistband of her jeans, as if he were stilling a skittish animal so it didn't flee. "Was there something you wished to discuss with me, Love?"

"I…" her mouth went dry staring into his eyes and she struggled to focus on anything other than the desire for a second kiss from him, but she finally pieced together coherent words. "I just wanted to thank you…for everything. We couldn't have even followed Henry without your ship and your help. David would be dead by now. And I, well, I just…"

"Come, Lass, it's just me. There's no need to be so formal. I offered you my ship and my services, and I meant it." As he said these words, he was slowly, deliberately, pinning her in his gaze so she understood just how much it did mean to him. He placed the cool, smooth curve of his hook under her chin, tilting her face up to meet his.

"But – it's just – it's so much more than that," she floundered, and if she weren't so grateful and attracted and muddled all at once she would have been irritated that he could sound so composed and romantic while she struggled to get a sentence out. Emotional tears almost welled over her eyelids, but she blinked them back and stepped closer yet, almost begging him to hold her, causing their noses to nearly brush. Looking up at him, she hoped that just maybe her eyes could convey her affection, gratitude, and want without the words that seemed lost to her. Biting her lower lip in nervous anticipation, Emma raised her eyes, blinking, to his cerulean gaze and prayed he would simply read her scrambled mind.

Chuckling low in his throat, Killian seemed to do just that, and wrapped his muscled arms around to reel her in. "All you had to do was ask, Love," he teased, lightly ghosting his lips over her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, forestalling the inevitable and making her heart thud erratically even as she grew impatient for his lips to reach hers. Just as she had grabbed him and driven their first kiss – fast, desperate, bruising – he was taking over this second one, creating a slow, languorous, building simmer that Emma wasn't sure she would survive.

Killian's hand came up to cradle her head, hook resting along her neck on the other side, the one bit of cool relief to the fire in which he had engulfed her. His calloused fingers stroked along her jaw as if hoping to coax her nearer still. This kiss carried their feelings in it; there was still heat and passion, but below it thrummed something more, something deeper: it required a decision. Emma's breath caught at the realization that this kiss was something which might last.

Killian was thinking, hoping, the same thing, hardly daring to believe, but unable to stop it either. Greedy thief and pirate that he was, he wanted more of Emma; it would never be enough. Fool he might be, but he did not aim to stop until he had stolen her very heart. Not so long ago, he had been rudderless, with nothing in this world to keep him but his vengeance. Now, he prayed that he could change his course. At last, he had something to fight for, someone to hold dear. Killian Jones – Captain Hook – had despaired of being anything else but hell bound…until she crossed his path. Perhaps he might still find redemption in Emma. Heaven had to know his every effort and act for good has been due to her. It's all for her.

Don't wanna let you down

but I am hell bound

Though this is all for you,

don't wanna hide the truth…

This is my kingdom come

This is my kingdom come

The door slams in his face – her door – and Killian lets himself slump against the wall, dejected. It all happened so quickly and now Emma is gone. She is beyond his grasp, as he had always known she was. He has waited so long to see her lovely face again, traveled so far, and though he tried to prepare himself for the very reaction he received, it didn't hurt any less when she gave him the blank look which told him his Swan no longer knew him.

Upon their forced return to the Enchanted Forest, he had tried to steer clear of everyone. Angry, wounded, and bitter, he had wanted nothing more than to hide himself below deck on the Roger and drink until he couldn't think of how being ripped from her just when she had given him a chance had hurt. He had not wanted to be near anyone and had made horrible, snarling company when someone forced the issue, but that had not stopped Snow and Charming. Emma's parents were a painful reminder of her, but no matter how he strove to avoid them and steer clear, they would not leave him alone.

It was exasperating how they kept trying to draw him into rebuilding the castle and their kingdom, tried to cheer him up, provided work for he and his crew as supplies were needed from other ports, and generally would not allow him to wallow in his misery as he had desired. They kept repeating that they had faith this separation would not last forever. For some unfathomable reason, he seemed to have found his way into their affection, and they would not let him despair either.

When Regina had finally put together a memory restorative potion, he had been willing to concede that these royal types and their unending hope were not so completely off base. The former evil queen had been almost pleasant and much more willing to help ever since meeting Robin Hood – apparently the man she had been destined to meet long ago. Some of the dangerous emptiness and hurt left her eyes when she was around the archer, and especially near his young son. Killian knew that she hoped Emma would find a way back and bring Henry if she could be made to remember. Regina also knew the rules of the second curse well though; she was to give up the thing she loved most. She couldn't be the one to go after them, couldn't force her hand. She would have to trust those whom she had spent so long fighting against.

Killian had been stunned however when David and Snow both championed his undertaking the quest. Something knowing flickered between the Prince and Princess' eyes, but he didn't waste time trying to figure it out. He was too grateful, touched, and ridiculously anxious to get going, whatever the mode of travel, to ask questions.

Now, faced with the harsh truth, he almost forgets the potion tucked into a pocket of his vest. He had to try True Love's Kiss, had to see for himself if it were possible. He shouldn't have even entertained the dream, and yet he couldn't help himself. He truly thought she loved him…but maybe she still does and has simply forgotten. He has come too far to turn back now without seeing his mission through. Any realm he tries to make his life in now will be empty without her regardless. He will wait for his moment, and he will try again…

They say it's what you make

I say it's up to Fate

It's woven in my soul

I need to let you go

Your eyes they shine so bright

I wanna save that light

I can't escape this now,

Unless you show me how…

Killian stands outside the large, several story building where Emma and Henry now reside, oblivious to the crush of people rushing around him on all sides, looking up to the window he knows is theirs, comforted by the fact that, though she may not remember him right now, they are once again in the same place and time. He can get to her, and he will succeed in bringing her back to her family…and to him.

That she wants him to keep his distance right now means little. He is sorry that she is at last safe with her son and free of the heavy weight of her destiny and he seeks to interrupt that. However, he thinks he knows Emma well enough to believe she would not wish for an illusion over truth; even if it pained her, she would rather face reality. He knows that much of his Swan.

Villain that he has been, that the world has always seen, the selfless action would be to let her go, but he cannot allow himself to admit defeat. Emma has never truly been loved – treasured – as she ought to have been, as he had planned to do. He fervently wishes to be the one to show her what it is to be wholly adored. He wants her to know that she is his whole world, and he needs the chance to see if she can love him in return, keep him striving to live again. The demons that still haunt him, that say her kingdom and his black soul are already lost, try to whisper that he will fail. Their voices hiss that he will never bring her back, that her knowledge and memories are lost forever. Killian pushes those insidious echoes from his mind. Soon, he will meet her haunting, storm-tossed eyes again, and he will make her see.

This is my kingdom come…

Tagging a few others who may enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose  @thislassishooked @resident-of-storybrooke @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @scientificapricot @tomeandflickcorner @lfh1226-linda @xsajx @stahlop @donteattheappleshook @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @darkcolinodonorgasm @elizabeethan @wefoundloveunderthelight @jonesfandomfanatic @spartanguard @tiganasummertree​ @optomisticgirl​

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Seven | Dogsong (Part 1 of 2)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

A strong and persistent, ticklish feeling on your nose wakes you up with a sneeze. 

Albeit, your face is far too puffy now for you to even see what's going on, not including the fact that you're not wearing either contacts or glasses presently -- and not that you even remember where your glasses ended up on after you passed out yesterday. It's all one big blur both in terms of your eyesight and your mind. The only few things you remember after waking up in a hospital bed was Sans at the very beginning of it all, along with your aunt arriving with some fresh clothes plus basic toiletries for you to use and change into after a shower. The rest of your memories are muddled to a point where you can't even remember where your belongings are, how long you've slept, or what hour it is.

The pressure you feel on your chest paired up with a few energetic woofs and a lick at your face let you know who's the product of your allergy. Thankfully though, the dog understands when you tell him you have to stand up. He barks again and jumps off of you, giving you freedom to move and try to feel around for your phone.

Doubt hits you when you find it, and you start to wonder if calling anyone's even necessary, keeping in mind that your emergency's mostly a puffy face and an itchy nose, coupled with blurry eyesight.

Surely, you could find your medicine just as you did with your phone, and worst case scenario, you could wait until a nurse or a doctor came around; your allergy wasn't that bad, anyway.

You try to search for the medicine all on your own first, though it results in you having to question the very same root of your problem for help. "Could you help me find my bag?" you ask, facing down with a smile at where you assume the dog's at. How he got inside a hospital room's left unknown to you, but now's not the time to be worrying about that. "It should be around-"

Before you can even finish your sentence, the dog barks once and runs off, becoming an even fainter, white blur as he leaves your side. Soon enough though, he returns with what you assume are your belongings, based on the colour of the bag's material alone, its dark brown contrasting with his white fur. "Thank you," you say, taking the bag from his mouth. You then sit down in bed and rummage through your belongings until you find some allergy pills and a half-drunken, lukewarm, bottled water, plus the new bottle your aunt had brought you. Compared to the one you packed up for yesterday, it's still ice-cold to the touch, and it's twice the size as a regular one.

A yawn, a headache, and a painful stretch intervene with your mission, so you decide to wash up first before taking any medicine. Countless hours of sleep meant lethargy was just around the corner were you to be tempted to lay down again, so you stumble your way to the bathroom and freshen yourself up, a daily routine adjusted to go by quicker when you hear the door of your room open and the dog bark at the new visitor. Happy woofs inform you you're not in any sort of danger, though you could still use whatever company there's waiting for you with how long it feels since you've last had a talk with someone unrelated to how your health was doing and what happened back at the bus.

"Hey, bud. What're ya doing 'ere? You know (Y/N)'s allergic to you."

"Woof-woof!"

The exchange between the new voice and the dog are the first few words you can hear while you wrap things up, though the dog runs back to your side as soon as you open the door and return to your bed.

"Don't," the visitor warns, whistling for the dog to approach him and chuckling when he runs off to his side. "You're gonna get 'em hospitalized again if you keep doin' this."

The dog distracts himself with the visitor while you take your pills and down them with some water. All that's left is to find your glasses while your face recovers, though as much as you try searching for them or your other alternative, you can't find them among all the other items scattered inside. Most first aid items are felt tampered with, bringing forth the unwanted memory of what you'd been through yesterday and how you were still well under recovery.

"Good mornin', (L/N). Dunno how that doggo got here, but I'll make sure he doesn't break in again."

Another recognizable blur -- made up mostly of blue, black, and white smudges -- shows up in front of you and crouches to meet with your face. Weren't he so used to wearing such similar colours and casual outfits all the time, you would have a harder time distinguishing him beyond that of his low voice and New York accent. He scoots a bit closer and reaches out for your face, hands brushing with your ears as he slips on your glasses for you. It's as clear as day he's already regretting what he's done, judging by the way his gaze averts from yours when you're able to see clearly again.

"You alright? Your allergy's lookin' worse than yesterday's." While it's initially unclear as to why he hesitated after putting on your glasses for you, just one closer look through all the puffiness of your face lets you see a faint, microscopical hint of red on his cheekbones. "...Sorry 'bout touchin' you like that, by the way. Dunno what got into me, but, uh-"

"You mean you putting on my glasses for me?"

"Yeah -- That was way outta hand of me. Sorry if that made you uncomfortable."

You take a second to think over what he means with that -- mind still processing everything as quickly as an old desk computer -- until you remember how his brother tried to set you both up a while back. 

If that was enough to get the one being set up all worked up around you even for the most trifling matters, you can't imagine how the monster's feeling now that he's taken such an intimate initiative with you, considering he could've simply offered you the glasses rather than slip them on for you. "That's okay." You snicker, dismissing his worry with a smile. "It's no big deal, really."

"Still, that was wrong of me." He smiles back at you, though that expression soon fades as he dwells deeper and longer into what's happened. "I did that without your knowledge, and we're not even friends yet. I took that, uh, incident back at the park too close to heart, so I'm not really sure what to do anymore or how close I should act with you." Sans takes a hand to the back of his neck, sighs, and rubs at it, inadvertently sitting next to you in bed as he contemplates the situation while facing the floor. "I need to tell Paps to stop settin' us up anymore in the future. Not only is it unfair for you with all the stuff you have goin' on. But well... I'm not too sure about what being in a relationship entails, either. I mean, seriously -- Being set up like this's really not my thing. Maybe it's different for others, but I just can't date a person or go out with 'em unless I'm real close to 'em." His shoulders stiffen, and he looks up at you with widened irises and a meek grin. "God, I'm… I'm not even sure why I'm tellin' you all this, though. It's-"

Remembering Papyrus's request, you intervene with, "Can I kiss your cheek, uh… bone? Maybe you could sort out your feelings a bit more if you try it."

Seemingly at a loss for words, the skeleton nods as a response.

You move a bit closer to him and press a quick kiss on his cheekbone, keeping all other limbs aside to prevent touching him anywhere else. His face turns a bit hotter now, similar though not as noticeable as when humans blush, so you assume he's going through the same thing despite those subtle differences. He looks away when you move back, though he faces you again when you ask, "How did that feel?"

There's a long beat of silence between you, until he eventually breaks it with, "It felt nice."

"Like in a platonic sort of sense, or otherwise?"

"...I'm not sure."

You hum and lose yourself in your thoughts, motivated by the kiss and his reaction to it. His body language is either good enough to mask any further embarrassment; that, or he just really didn't feel anything out of the ordinary when being kissed on the cheekbone. You try to think back on past experiences and remember how Jerry was a lot shyer than you when it came to being upfront and honest about your feelings with each other. Both your appearances deceived in that aspect, as your roles in twelve grade were like those of a high school movie clique: Jerry was a popular soccer athlete back then, while you were the quiet and lonesome nerd in charge of the library. You kissed him first though, and you were the first to admit your feelings for him after you discovered you liked both boys and girls alike.

"Well, how about this," you speak up, gaining his attention again. "Could you imagine yourself doing anything romantic with any of your past crushes, like kissing, hugging, or just… full-on making out?"

"Hard pass on the last one. Don't think I can imagine myself doing somethin' like that with someone -- unless I'm maybe really, really close to 'em. Other than that, well… I guess I wouldn't mind doin' all that other stuff." 

"So if we both had a crush on each other, would you see yourself on a date with me? If you can't use me as an example, imagine someone else you're more comfortable with."

He looks away again. Still, he nods. "Just with none of that steamier stuff. I've heard some of my co-workers up here say they're all about this and that, and how often they do stuff like that with their partner, but I just can't really see myself in a situation like that one -- Or just… Not yet, at least."

"That's normal, then. Intimate stuff like that isn't for everyone." Your smile grows at the feeling that you're making progress with Papyrus's request. "Some are just fine with what you said, and others don't even have a need for romance in their lives. Just like marriage and children aren't for everyone, romance and sexual intimacy aren't, either."

"Thanks," he says, meeting your eyes with a less tense gaze of his own. "How did ya learn 'bout this kinda stuff, by the way? I think maybe Alphys and Undyne know a bit about this themselves, but, uh… I never had the guts to talk to 'em."

You grin. "So you ask a complete stranger about it?"

Thankfully, he knows you're joking and follows up to it by jabbing your side with his elbow. "You caught me in a vulnerable state."

"How so?" you ask, scooting closer on instinct.

"Things are different here at the Surface," he replies, suddenly wistful. "When you passed out yesterday, that reality hit me, and so I kinda just… froze at the thought of losing you."

"How's it different down there? Does… Does that mean if I were there, I wouldn't die as easily as I would here?"

"Not exactly. There's just a different system down there, and it helps strong-willed humans have a second chance and more at life."

"But strong-willed could mean both good people and not, right? How would you deal with bad ones, if it came to it?"

"That's where the whole situation with your kid takes place. It's not that we wanted to hurt 'em, but that there were plenty of factors that made us view humans as a threat back then. It was them who taught us there's another way around it. But then again, I think those points you've made're important, and that you really shouldn't just forgive us outta-"

"Time's up, mister Serif. The patient has other people who want to see them."

Nearly disheartened by how time runs short, you end it on that and make a (metaphorically) telepathic note to continue with the conversation during your tour, something you both agree on with a nod. There would be plenty of time to talk about that there, though that's not to say you don't want to have all that information discussed right here and now. "I don't think I've said this before, so… Thank you for all your help. I'm not sure I'd even be here if you hadn't been there at the bus for me." You pause and smile. "Friendly hug?"

Sans chuckles and sits down again. "Friendly hug." He takes up your offer faster than the first two times since you first met him. It feels far more natural now, almost as if the previous two had been reciprocated to, but with that doubt still on his mind, weighing him down. "This's probably really damn weird, but you're kinda… comfortable to hug."

"Okay, yeah. That's kinda weird." You laugh. "Comfortable as in soft or warm or-"

"Comfortable as in I could easily fall asleep on you if you keep huggin' me like this. But yeah -- That's probably the reason why."

"So you'd say you like cuddling, then?"

"Definitely better than all that other stuff."

"See that?" You let go of him and let your smile grow. "You're understanding yourself more already. That's good!"

"Is it? I thought I was too old for that."

"Oh, come on." You judge him. "You're a science wiz, aren't you? People all experience things differently and at different stages. You're being rude to yourself. Just give yourself a chance to grow and understand yourself a little more!"

"I'd hate to break you two up, but people are waiting outside."

You both freeze at the sound of the nurse's voice being so close now. She's standing nearby now rather than simply waiting by the doorway, an observation that makes you question just when she'd come closer and how much she'd heard you talk as a result. Still, she doesn't appear fazed nor bothered by anything, so you take it she'd either just arrived at your side or had found a way not to overhear while she waited.

"The doctor should be here soon, so we have to cut your visits short."

In compliance to her words, you wrap your conversation up with the skeleton and tell him you'll message him over your next tour date. You would need a little more time to recover now, so it would only be common sense to check through your schedule, sort things out with your job, and manage how you would deal with Frisk's school days and homework. The monsters were already doing you plenty of favours, and yet you only knew two of them in person, three if you counted how often you talked with Toriel through phone and video calls despite not visiting her home to this day. Asking them for any more help than what they were already giving was out of the question. 

Even if such fantasy-like beings existed, that didn't mean they were as magically potent as most books made them out to be. At the end of the day, they were living, breathing beings just like you, with lives of their very own and troubles just like any other human being you knew. What made you different were your appearances and customs, and even then that was something that could be overlooked with due time and mutual understanding, as it isn't as important as who they are and what they do to live each day like you did with your own.

"Let me know if ya need help with Frisk's school," Sans says, already standing near the doorway. "You can't recover if you don't look for help."

And with that, he leaves.

Whether you were an open book or he a mind reader, you can't tell for certain, but if there's one thing you could use presently, it's words like those.

You barely have a chance to say thank you as other visitors step inside, some familiar and some not.

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

The holidays are now over where I'm from, so expect updates to return to their usual Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday schedule (depending on the chapters' lengths) starting from the 16th of this month!

• • •

Tag List (Comment or message me if you want to be added to it!)

@the-simp-express​

@nektotersh

[prismatales]

Baby? (Yagi Toshinori)

Anon:could you do one where all might finds out his girlfriend/fiance is pregnant even though they thought she would never be able to have children? 👉👈

How dare you hit me in the feels Anon...I love you

...This had to be a joke...right?

Those two pink lines had to be some mistake, a sick joke from the 10% chance of inaccuracy from the pregnancy test clutched tightly in your shaking hands, breath coming out in shaky puffs just from looking at the dreaded plastic stick.

Why did the universe enjoyed torturing you and Toshi so much?

After years and years of trying, of taking overwhelmingly nasty home remedies, fertility treatments and going from clinic to clinic, you and your then boyfriend had given up on the dream of having a child together after the last medical check-up, hearing the news from the doctor together with that damned look full of pity on her face didn't help the situation one bit the moment she gave you the diagnosis.

"I'm really sorry to be the bearer of such disheartening news, but based on the results...It's highly unlikely you'll manage to conceive a child..."

That was five years ago, and each and every single time you stumbled upon the children's section at stores that heaviness inside would always come back, each time more painful than the last one in cruel mockery.

So...Why did you let Midnight talk you into taking this cursed test into the first place after seeing you rushing to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach for the third time that week, considering that by this point the answer would be more than obvious and you knew it better than anyone?

"What does the test say Y/N?" Nemuri's voice could was heard from the other side of the door, she could hear you pacing back and forth through the small room.

"It's says it's a god damn joke!" She could hear you yelling, if anyone came in the small bathroom they'd quickly notice how much you were trembling, tears dangerously close to come out from all the emotions growing inside of you at the same time...along with the small life inside of you.

If there's really something, or rather someone growing in there...

"Are you serious?!" Midnight yelled out in excitement and opened the door, but her expression faltered a bit when she saw you sitting in the toilet while glaring at the test in your hands with a look of doubt.

Both fear and happiness radiated off your whole being, happy at the idea of finally being able to become a parent alongside your now fiance, but you were also afraid it was only a false alarm, you knew the possible outcome that would come should this be just some fake hope. Toshi and you would definitely be devastated, it was already hard enough the fist time you got the news that having a baby would be nearly impossible...so if this was just a mistake you weren't sure if the both of you could take it.

"I'm scared Midnight..." Your hands grasped your head stressfully, afraid this was just a dream or some sick joke "What if it's just a false alarm? I don't think Toshi and I will be able to handle it..."

She quickly crouched down in front of your nervous self, hands caressing your shoulders comfortingly, she knows how sensitive this subject really was for both you and Yagi, so it's natural for you to be so afraid of stepping inside another clinic just to be let down once again. Pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration the only thing left to do was face this current situation and see what happens, dwelling in fear won't give you the answer you're looking for.

"I may not understand how you're feeling right now, but I'll assure you everything's going to be alright...besides, think about it from this perspective" She stood up in front of you with a smile "Isn't it a coincidence that you guys are finally going to be a happy little family after he retired?"

...Midnight had a good point, why did this happen right after Toshi officially retired as the symbol of peace and Number One hero? Maybe it was some kind of signal, telling you this was the perfect time to bring a little one to this world, the small flicker of hope inside you kept growing and growing, reassuring you everything would be fine.

You were not aware your hand was caressing the spot where the little one was growing, not until the thought of giving Toshi the news came to mind, a smile crept upon your face at the idea of telling him that before he'd realize there would be somebody around calling him "Papa", probably wearing one of his characteristics hero Onesie.

The fit of giggles that came out couldn't be contained, the mental image of a mini Toshi stumbling around the house as they struggled to follow their father around the house was too cute to handle, and Nerumi knew just what you were thinking just by looking at your face.

"I need to surprise him, would you help me plan something?" She smiled brightly by your question.

"Thought you'd never ask!"

..........

......

...

Yagi Toshinori came home with exhaustion running though his whole body after today's training session with class 1-A and his training with Midoriya, in that moment his one and only desire was to die into bed to have a well deserved rest and possibly spend some time with his lovely Y/N before delving into the land of dreams.

Especially after he barely had time so see you that morning because of the stomach bug you apparently caught most likely due to the takeout ordered from that new place, he'd have to make sure to send a complain if by any chance his fiance's condition happened to get worse.

"I am home!" His voice came out mixed with a soft laughter, ever amused by the little call you always enjoyed to hear every time he came home, living together was quite an adventure, something full of excitement, happiness and joy, it was something that you wouldn't change for anything in the world.

"I am in the kitchen!" You call back with enthusiasm, there's something that has you in a good mood it seems, considering you're not waiting for him in the living room reading that book you love so much with that look of serenity that always manages to put him in a good mood even with all the current events, it's something worth adoring that could make even the most stoic of persons remember we're just humans after all.

Despite the exhaustion coursing thought every inch of his body Toshinori make his way to the kitchen in a steady yet slow pace, nothing but curiosity driving each step, thoughts deep in wonder...what exactly happened that has you in such a euphoric mood? Not that he doesn't like it, but today there's something else boosting that happy mood.

Stepping inside the kitchen he's met with an unusual sight, in the first place there's a small pastel yellow gift bag sitting on top of the table, and you're sitting on the other side of the table, chin resting over your hands which are resting over the wooden surface, there's such a bright smile on your face it could illuminate even the darkest of nights, it's been a while since the last time he saw you smiling that brightly.

The last time he saw that kind of smile was probably when he proposed two years ago.

"Welcome home Toshi! How did class go today?" You asked cheerfully, a glint in those E/C colored eyes hinted for an incoming surprise, a big one by the looks of it so he played along with it to see just what kind of stuff you were going to pull out.

"Hard as usual, those kids are going to become some of the greatest heroes the world has ever seen" Yagi pulled out the chair in front of you and took a seat "Young Midoriya's improving greatly as well...if only she could see his improvement as well..."

His voice dropped quickly and it was so easy to figure out why exactly, after all he told you everything about Nana and the history with All for One, it was clear as water talking about this would always be a sensitive subject for Yagi.

You were quick to comfort him, standing up and softly wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind "I'm sure Nana's watching everything from above...and even though we were unable to meet each other, I can assure you that she's proud of you and Midoriya"

Yagi's hands caressed your own and gripped it back carefully, it was his own way of thanking his love for being there for him despite everything that's happened so far, that's the very reason that made Yagi make up his mind the day he proposed, that's why he wanted you alongside him for whatever time he had left on earth.

"But enough of that, you have a surprise I do not want to ruin with my pessimist mood, what got my dear fiance in such a good mood?" He turns around in his spot to take a good look at your face, despite the recent conversation that smile is still there and doesn't seem to go away.

Pecking Yagi on the cheek before releasing him from the hug, the first thing you did was grab the gift bag in front of him before shaking it with enthusiasm, the sight was almost like watching a child getting riled up about their birthday present and was enough to make Yagi release a full fledged laugh at the way his fiance behaved.

"I got a surprise for you! And trust me when I say you did NOT see this coming!"

You hand him the bag before rushing for the phone to get his reaction on camera, it leaves him wary at first thinking it must be a prank, but on the other hand this good mood you're in it's more than enough proof it's something important.

"Should I expect something jumping at my face?" He chuckles.

"Just open your gift and take a look for yourself!" Your giggles are contagious, and with that motivation Yagi caves in and sticks his hand inside the bag, the ruffling inside riles up his curiosity tenfold when your literally start vibrating in excitement.

A few seconds later he finally pulls out a small pair of white baby shoes from the bag, they're small enough to fit a newborn and look even smaller when he's holding them in both hands, he just stares at them quietly for a while, there's not a bit of sound in the kitchen asides from your guy's breathing and the sounds outside from traffic and people passing by.

"What's this?" He can't help but ask, thinking is some game or something.

"They're shoes you dummy" You say from behind the camera, awaiting for his answer.

"I know what they are Y/N, but why did you buy this? They're small enough to fit a--" Yagi freezes on the spot, once he connects the dots his head whips around in you direction with wide eyes like a deer caught in the headlights.

"You're not joking...right?"

You shake you head with a smile, but before Yagi can say anything else you interrupt him.

"Look inside the bag, there's something else in there"

He rapidly starts rummaging through the bag and finds a white envelope that's quickly ripped open in a rush to get the paper inside it, his eyes quickly scan the contents of the letter before he turns back to look at you.

"This isn't a joke...right?" He asks you once again before looking back and forth between you and the papers in hand, practically shaking from everything he's feeling in that moment, it's actually a surprise to the both of you he hasn't started coughing up blood from the shock.

He stands up so quickly the chair scrapes against the titled floor, making a high pitched, ear splitting screech that neither of you seemed to mind, too distracted by the news to pay attention to anything else currently going on.

"Are you really...Are we really having a baby?!" He's standing in front of you, and the hope in his eyes makes it impossible to hold it in anymore.

"Yes! We're finally going to be parents!" You almost want to jump from happiness, but knowing Yagi he'd probably give you an earful before telling you to be careful, if the way he's constantly dotting over Midoriya isn't already proof enough.

Yagi quickly hugs you, strongly but carefully not to hurt you or the small life growing inside of you, he's only known about it for less than a few minutes and he's already being extremely careful with you.

"How long...?" He can't even speak properly, too close to tears and his voice comes out hoarse from how much he wants to cry in that instant.

"Four weeks, turns out the little one was the one responsible for the stomach ache, not the takeout" You laughed "I seriously hope you didn't send a complain"

"Who, me?" He pulls back, hands up in the air "No way!"

Good thing he forgot to call the restaurant in the midst of the whole surprise...

"Do you realize what this means?" Yagi quickly changes the subject, a glint in his eyes that can only mean one thing.

"We need to prepare the nursery asap!!"

"Oh my god Toshi, we still have 9 months to do so!"

"Nonsense, It's never too early, the quicker the better! Wait until young Midoriya finds out!"

"Should we get him an 'Honorary big brother' T-shirt?"

"Yes! And don't forget about the wedding! Should we do it before or after the baby's born?"

"Careful Toshi, Midoriya finally rubbed off on you"

This was going to be so much fun.

MASTERLIST

@t-amajiki @undead0relived @shoobirino @bnha-ra @godtieruwu @mysticalite