#fully one of those moments where your feelings about a piece can change SO much if you give it some time and space

[strawberrum]

quail!

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Zayne, and Slyus react to his shy gn crush giving him a love letter before leaving quickly?

You were quick with your exist, Sylus had to give you that as the moment he looked up from the letter, only to see that you were long gone.

Naturally he would’ve caught you by the wrist and kept you close until after he had read the letter. However since that wasn’t how the events played out, Sylus walked back to his room to read the letter, fully intending to ask you the next time he sees you what this was all about, all the while lightly scolding you for running away.

He even made Mephisto leave the room for full privacy, the crow was offended by this not going to lie and instead made himself comfortable on the nearest perch he could find.

Sylus wasn’t dumb, your expression gave it all away what type of letter this was and he couldn’t help but smirk when he read your sweet words, chuckling as he felt your emotions through every sentence he read and how many words you had scribbled out in your attempt of making a confession to him.

While he would’ve preferred to have you confess to him in person, he couldn’t hold it against you that you felt overwhelmed and too afraid to do so and speak your heart to him, but that was okay when you had written your heart to him on a piece of paper instead that made him smile as warmth spread throughout his chest.

You were so cute when you poured your heart out into the letter and Sylus knew he would be keeping this as his own personal memento of the time where your relationship changed. Needless to say after reading the letter you got a greeting by Sylus later that same evening as he made himself comfortable in your apartment, eager to start your relationship as soon as he could by making you a dinner for two.

He casts his gaze down at the letter you hastily shoved into his hand, giving him no room to ask what the contents of the letter was before bolting off down the hallway with a flustered expression upon your face.

Zayne tilts his head to the side as he then takes the letter into his office, not wanting anyone to peer over his shoulder and read the words that you had specifically wrote for him and him alone.

He knew of your nervousness and tendency to tell him personal things through the likes of cute letters, but this was a completely different level of that as he got an insight to your thoughts and feelings towards him that you couldn’t put into words. It was highly detailed with moments where you realised that you like Zayne more then ‘just a friend’

He found it sweet and warming as he too would reminisce on the moments that you bring up and suddenly everything becomes clearer for Zayne. The moments where it seemed like you were more sheepish and unable to meet his eyes, all of it made all the more sense to him now as you gave clarification to why you acted those ways back then.

You adored him and yet you couldn’t find a more fitting way to tell him than a letter that resides within his hands.

It felt good for Zayne to know that his feelings wasn’t one sided and that you felt similar to him. It was all he could ever wish for even though he tried not to fall for you, only to find it increasingly difficult when you were practically a big part of his day to day life, and he couldn’t help but feel as though a weight had been taken off of his chest knowing that he didn’t have to hold back his feeling anymore and finally get to do what he always wanted.

He has a reservation booked at a fancy restaurant to you both, but is more than willing to cancel it to just walk through the city with you should that be more your speed, or maybe even some quality time at home with some take out. Zayne didn’t want you to become overwhelmed and would much preferable to have you at your most comfortable when you’re both talking about your future relationship.

[watchmegetobsessed]

MISTAKEN HATRED

A/N: okay im veeery nervous about this one bc its the longest story i've written in probably months and it took me sooo long to finish it so im just praying its not utter shit 🙃 anywaysss, happy holidays guys! it's not overly festive, but it has some vibes so im labeling it as my xmas fic haha feedback is always appreciated! 🎄

WORD COUNT: 6.3k

SUMMARY: Things don't go as smooth as you planned with your bakery's opening, but you're doing your best to overcome the struggles. However there is one person who is hating on your business as if it was his job: Harry Styles. You just wish you knew what you did to earn his hatred...

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

This is not how you imagined the last weeks before your official opening. 

You imagined the interrior to be fully done by now so you can focus on the last touches, ordering the right ingredients and promoting the opening.

Instead, you’re staring at what’s supposed to be your eight tables, intact and put together but it’s all in pieces. You specifically remember the website said they would deliver them done and you wouldn’t have to play puzzles. But they arrived six days late and very much not the way they promised. 

Taking a deep breath you stare up at the ceiling and decide to take the trash out before turning your bakery into Ikea.

“It’s alright. I can do this. I can do anything,” you keep telling yourself as you drag out the trash bags that are almost the size of you. 

You knew opening your own business would be tough. Especially in Eroda, the little town you have some of your earliest memories from, where your grandma used to live, the place that was closest to her heart and it breaks yours to know she couldn’t spend her last years here because she was too sick to live on her own. 

She never asked you to come back here, but the moment you found her recipe books the summer after she passed, you just knew what you had to do. Now it’s been three years and you’re finally opening Nana’s that will bring her warmth and love back to Eroda, or you hope so. 

Pushing the door open with your shoulder, you keep dragging the bags to the containers behind the small shop and you’re so deep in your thoughts you don’t even notice the two people just a couple of feet away.

“Hi, Love!”

You recognize Anne’s sweet, chirpy voice and a smile spreads across your face even before you look up, but the moment you see the person standing next to her, all joy just drains from your body. 

Harry Styles is standing as grouchy and arrogant as always next to his mother, hands hidden in the pockets of his fleece jacket, his unruly curls are tucked underneath his beanie and any normal woman would be into the man, but you. Not after he very clearly let you know you don’t belong here and you should take your business back to the city where you came from. 

You expected some resistance, not much has changed in town in the past decades and you had a feeling some might want to keep it that way, but you guessed older people would riot against your bakery, not a thirty years old grown man. 

“Hi Anne,” you smile back and mustering up all your strength you throw one of the bags into the bin, but you overestimated your muscle work, because it only falls to the edge and almost topples right out. Luckily, you grab it just in time and push it in.

“Oh, dear, those bags are bigger than you! Harry, help her!” 

“No, it’s alri–” 

Before you get to protest, Harry strides over to you and grabs the remaining two bags as if they weighed nothing and throws them into the bin without breaking a sweat. 

Of course he is fit, the man probably runs up the hill carrying twice his weight every morning, because that’s how you can imagine him working out. 

Though you shouldn’t be imagining anything about him.

“Thanks,” you purse your lips and square your shoulders as you face the two of them.

“How is everything coming together?”

Anne has been so enthusiastic about your bakery, she comes around probably every other day, checks in on your progress and always offers her help. 

“Um, it is… okay, I guess,” you let out a tired chuckle. Glancing over at Harry you see him looking to the side, as if he wasn’t even listening, but something is telling you he is very much focused on the conversation.

Yeah, that’s right, I’m still here! Not even your arrogance can chase me away!

Anne cranes her neck, peeking into the shop and she spots the pile in the middle.

“Oh, are you planning to put those together by yourself? Harry, why don’t you help her?”

The moment she suggests, you both protest.

“No, there’s no need.”

“Mum, I don’t really have the time,” he says at the same time, but it doesn’t seem to go through. Anne’s phone starts ringing and she excuses herself, leaving the two of you there. 

Great, this is all you were missing today, an awkward, forced situation with the man who wants to see you gone. Perfect.

“Should’ve ordered them done, don’t you think?” he speaks up, nodding towards the shop.

At first, you just blink at him, then close your eyes and when you open them, you have the fakest smile on your twitching face.

“What a wonderful idea! I totally did not think of that!”

“Then send them back and ask them to bring what you ordered.” He rolls his eyes and it’s irking you so much. You definitely don’t need his stupid advices, not when you’re terribly behind your schedule.

“They arrived almost a week later than they should have, if I send them back there’s now ay they will send me the new ones in time for the opening.”

Harry stands there, staring at the pile of furniture pieces inside and for a moment you think he might actually offer his help, which you’re not sure you’d have accepted, but it remains a mystery, because that’s not what he says when he speaks up.

“I’m busy for real. Mum likes to offer my help around without asking me.”

It takes you a couple of moments to figure out what you feel about what he just said. And when you finally do, you see red.

“As I said, I don’t need help. I did everything by myself and I will get this done as well. I don’t need your unwanted, half-assed effort to pretend like you’re helping me.”

You come off rougher than you probably should have, but he’s been bugging you ever since you moved to Eroda. The man knows nothing about you or your business, yet every time he comes near your shop he acts like it physically pains him to even look at it. He’d be the last person you’d ask for help, he doesn’t have to act like he has so much to do and doesn’t have the time to help when he doesn’t actually want to help. 

Harry stares at you with such intensity you almost break and stutter a sorry out, but that’s when Anne returns.

“Ah, we have to run. But I will come by tomorrow, Darling. And Harry can hel–”

“No need for help,” you smile at her as gratefully as you can force yourself to be in this moment. 

“Alright, then see you later,” she waves and you nod at her before your eyes meet Harry’s one last time before they walk away and you return to your shop. 

It takes you six hours to assemble the tables later that day, but you do it.

With no help. 

Moving to Eroda, it hasn’t been your only goal to have your business become part of the town but you also knew you’d have to become one of the locals as well. Only a handful of people know who your grandmother was and you don’t plan to reveal it until the opening. You want them to taste all the baked goods and think of her first and then put the picture together. But this means you’re a total newbie for most people around. Last time you spent more than just a day here was when you were sixteen and you’ve changed a lot since then, so it’s natural people don’t recognize you. 

Anne has been your biggest help in breaking the ice and involving you in as many things as possible so you get to meet the people of Eroda. The weeks leading up to Christmas are usually filled with all kinds of winter activities locals enjoy wholeheartedly. Concert by the town hall, decorating the trees at the main square, collecting donations and cooking for those in need for example. You’ve been to all of these and very much enjoyed being part of the community. This weekend however, you can’t say you’re looking forward to the new festive activity.

Ice-skating on the frozen lake.

It sounds nice and fun, but you’ve ice-skated only once in your life and ended up breaking your wrist. Not your favorite childhood memory for sure and you don’t exactly want to relive it as an adult. 

You arrive with the intention of just sipping some hot tea and watch everyone else skate around until your fingers are falling off and you can go back to the shop to finish putting up the tinker lights at the back. 

Anne however had different ideas about today. Because as soon as you arrive at the lake, she is waving at you, holding up a pair of skates and you know they are not hers, because she’s already wearing those. 

“Kick those boots off, Love, I brought you my old skates! Come join us!” She smiles brightly at you from next to the pier where people get on and off the ice. 

“Oh, no, I don’t skate, Anne, but thank you!”

“Don’t be silly, even Bernie is on the ice!” She nods towards the old man who must be at least eighty, sliding on the ice as if he did this all his life. He might have, you have no idea.

“It’s really not for me, I–”

“Just try it! Come on!” 

She drops the skates by your feet and then slides away, leaving you no chance to protest.

Staring down at the skates, you can feel your stomach churning, but as you look up you see that literally everyone is on the ice, you’d look weird standing on the pier on your own. 

“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath as you give in and sitting down you start peeling your boots off your feet. 

“You’ll break your ankle if you leave it that loose.”

You know the voice and it just adds to your stress even more. You see his black skates in front of you as you’re trying to lace your own up.

“Hi Harry, so good to see you again,” you hiss through your teeth. 

“Tighten it or you’ll fall.”

“I’ll fall either way,” you mumble as you go back and pull the laces tighter. When you’re done you straighten up, but remain sitting on the end of the pier, anxiously string down at your feet. Harry doesn’t speak, but you know he is still there, probably watching you, trying to figure out what’s wrong with you, why you’re not just standing up and going at it like everyone else. 

Your hands are holding onto the wood underneath you for dear life as you picture yourself finally moving, but you never get to actually acting. 

“Do you need help standing up?” Harry speaks up at last and his voice is different this time. It’s not as arrogant, maybe even concerned. Do you look that awful right now?

“N-No.” Your voice cracks and you hate that it’s him who sees you like this. 

“Doesn’t seem like–”

“Would you stop being an asshole for a moment?” you snap at him and finally look up, eyes meeting his examining gaze. You have no idea what he sees in yours, but a few seconds later he breaks eye-contact, looks around as if he is hesitating before he sits beside you at last.

“You don’t have to skate if you don’t want to.”

“Tell that to your mother,” you mumble under your breath and it makes him laugh.

The sound of it is actually nice, surprising, but nice to hear something other than insults coming from his mouth.

“She can be a bit too much, but she’s just too enthusiastic.” You sit in silence for a bit before Harry turns to you. “You really don’t have to skate.”

“I want to take part, I just… I broke my wrist on the ice once when I was a kid and I haven’t tried skating since then.”

You didn’t plan on telling him much, but you felt like you had to explain why you’re being so dramatic. Part of you is expecting him to make fun of you for being scared of skating because of something that happened ages ago, but the arrogant comments never come.

Instead he stands up and when you look up at him he is holding a hand out to you.

“I’ll help you. You won’t fall.”

Any other day you’d think he is plotting against you, that he would get you to trust him and the trip you the first chance he got, but not this time. He looks and sounds genuine and as you take his hand, you put way too much trust into them than you would have ever allowed yourself to. 

You hold onto him with both hands and he keeps you steady as you finally attempt to push yourself up from the edge of the pier. Your knees wobble the moment your weight is on the blades and you instantly feel yourself losing balance, but Harry’s hands wrap around your arms and keep you from falling.

“It’s okay. Relax a bit, you’ll find your balance.” He encourages you and it’s almost strange to hear him so supportive of anything you’re doing, but not breaking your neck keeps you too busy to care about his random act of kindness. 

“Try to move forward.”

“I can’t,” you protest without even trying.

“You can, just relax.”

“Don’t tell me to relax, it’s not gonna help me relax!”

“Y/N, you’re gonna have a panic attack if you don’t relax,” he warns you and you realize how fast you’re breathing and all your blood is being pumped into your head. 

“I-I can’t, I can’t do this, I–”

“Y/N, look at me!” His hands snap to your shoulders and you grab onto his biceps as you look him in the eyes while your chest is still heaving. “I’ve got you, okay? You’re not going to fall. I’m holding you, I promise.”

Focusing on his words you finally forget about your fears and instead, you’re now trying to figure out where this version of Harry came from and why he hid from you all along. 

You’re not one to trust people that easily, but just from this one promise he made, you let go of all your doubts and hesitation. 

“Okay,” you breathe out. Harry nods and his hands slowly slide lower until they rest on your waist. 

“You knew how to skate, right? Before you broke your wrist.” You nod. “Alright, then it will all come back quickly.”

There’s a tiny smile hiding in the corners of his lips and your heart pitter-patters in your chest, but not because of the skating this time. His hands on you are not helping either, because for some reason, you feel heat radiating through the millions of layers you’re wearing where his hands are touching you. 

What is happening?

“Okay, I’ll hold your hand and you just focus on moving forward, yeah?”

You nod and panic rises in your gut for a moment when his hands leave your shoulders, but then they instantly take your hands and you feel safe again. 

Slowly you start moving, inching forward, your hands gripping Harry’s so tight, you’re afraid you might hurt him, but you’d never let go of him, not when you’re getting farther away from the pier. 

“That’s it, you are doing great,” he encourages. “Try to move a bit less rigidly.”

“Easy to say that,” you breathe out shakily. 

It takes time to loosen up even the tiniest bit and not grip Harry’s hand as if you wanted to crush his bones. But as you slowly move around the ice, led by him, you finally get more and more familiar with the feeling of sliding on the ice. 

“See? It’s not that bad,” he smiles when you stop for a short break after circling back to the pier. 

“I still fear for my life, but it’s bearable now,” you nod and he just chuckles.

It looks good on him. His smile is warm and welcoming, it’s a shame it took you so long to see it. You definitely prefer this version of him. 

“Honey, it’s so lovely to see you on the ice!” Anne slides over to you with ease, holding a cup of something warm, probably hot chocolate. 

“Well, it’s not quite my element,” you let out an awkward chuckle.

“You’re doing just fine. Besides, you just snatched up the best skater in town.” Winking, she bumps her hip against Harry’s. Your puzzled look urges her to elaborate. “Harry took over coaching the boys’ hockey team last year, the kids adore him!”

Instantly, you imagine Harry dealing with a bunch of cute kids, cheering on them, teaching them, making them laugh… The image is actually moving something inside you that’s been buried somewhere deep for a while now.

“Y/N, how are things coming together? Everyone is buzzing for the big opening!” Anne does a little dance that makes you laugh, but at the same time, something changes in Harry. 

“Um, it’s going okay. Not how I planned, but I’ll manage.”

“I’m sure everything will fall into place perfectly. And if you need any help just let us know!” She turns to Harry, looking for validation that he is open to lending you a helping hand as well, but his reaction is not quite what she was expecting, probably. 

“Sorry, I gotta go now,” Harry mumbles quickly, his gaze obviously avoiding you or his mother and he skates away so fast you just blink after him. 

“What’s gotten into this boy?” Anne huffs, but she lets go of it fast, starts chatting about something you don’t quite catch, because you just stare after Harry, watching him slalom between the skaters so fast it’s almost aggressive. 

And once again, you feel like you’re back where you began. He hates you and you have no idea what you did against him. 

Theoretically, opening Nana’s two weeks before Christmas was a great idea, because you imagined all the baked goods people would order for the holidays, you knew it would be a great kick start.

Realistically, it means that now you have to do the last touch ups in the harsh winter that’s as cold as the North Pole. Or at least that’s how you imagine the North Pole.

It’s been non stop snowing for the past three days, the fresh, soft looking snow is now covering every bit of Eroda’s breathtaking view and though it’s very festive and nice to look at it from a warm room with something hot to drink, it’s not as relaxing when you’re still working on the bakery, doing the last bits of decorating and starting the first batches of baked goods, because in 24 hours, Nana’s is officially opening its front door to the public. 

You’ve been here since five in the morning, now it’s four in the afternoon but it’s almost entirely pitch dark outside so it feels like it’s nearing ten. The place is not a mess anymore, but the kitchen is, there’s all kinds of dough everywhere, you’re doing everything you can now so there’s less tomorrow, but even with all the work tonight you’ll be here at five in the morning again tomorrow. 

It’s been hours since the last time you looked out the window, so it fully goes over your head how heavy the snowfall has gotten lately, chasing home every soul from the streets. While you’re covered in flour and keep muttering Nana’s recipes to make sure everything is measured right, there is one more person out there who is still not home, battling the weather. 

Harry has been going around town all day, helping out the elderly with either delivering groceries, or repairing the heating, whatever they needed a helping hand with. He’s usually the person one calls in Eroda when something needs to be fixed.

The roads are now not quite safe to be driving around, but with his jeep he’ll be able to get home just before it gets too bad. Or so the thought, but that is until he drives by the bakery and sees the lights on.

At first he keeps driving, telling himself it’s not his business. But the farther he gets the guiltier he feels and then he turns the car around.

You’re too busy to hear the knocking at first, but then you hear it again and know it wasn’t just in your head. Rushing out of the kitchen you stop in front of the door, because through the glass you make out Harry standing there, the snow already covering the top of his head as if he’s been out there for hours. 

“It’s freezing out here, Y/N! Would be nice if you let me in!” he shouts through the glass and you finally snap out of your surprise, unlock the door and Harry practically runs inside. 

“What are you doing here?” You watch him shake the snow off of him and finally turn towards you. For a moment you forget about how you parted ways at the skating, how cold he turned out of the blue after helping you. 

“Funny, I wanted to ask you the same thing. There’s a snowstorm out there, you won’t be able to get home if you stay here!”

“Are you kidding me? I’m opening tomorrow, I have a million things to finish!”

“So you’re risking getting snowed in? Were you planning to sleep here or something?”

“Maybe! Yeah! I need to get a ton of dough ready and I still haven’t put up the tinker lights and I need to clean up…”

Harry stares at you with such a vivid look, you expect him to start screaming at you or something. But he just keeps staring until he finally breaks.

“Okay, where are the lights and where do you want them?”

“What?”

“You’ll spend the night here if you do everything alone. I’ll help and hopefully we’ll be able to leave when it’s all done.”

Now it’s your turn to stare at him as he is looking around, searching for the lights to start working, but you can’t really believe he is about to help you out when he could be home by now. On the other hand, you could really use the help and maybe finish earlier than midnight, so after pushing your surprise to the side you start instructing him. While Harry works on the lights, you return to the kitchen. 

To test out the dough for the croissants, the one thing you’re the most nervous about because it used to be Nana’s specialty, you decide to make a few and pop them in the oven while you do everything else. 

It’s hard to believe you’re finally at this point, so close to the opening, turning your biggest dream into reality. You wish Nana would be here with you today.

“Lights are done.”

Harry interrupts your thoughts and you wipe your floury hands into your apron before following him out of the kitchen to see the work he did.

“Oh my God, this looks perfect!” you gasp, seeing all the tinker lights run along the ceiling and walls, lighting up the place like magic. 

Harry just nods, pressing his lips together, as if it was nothing. 

“Anything else?” he asks.

“Yeah, I have a few pictures I want to hang up and then it’s all done–” The timer in the kitchen goes off, letting you know the croissants are done. “Let me take them out and then I’ll show you where I want them.”

You rush back to the kitchen and take the fresh, steaming croissants out of the oven, completely missing that Harry has followed you and he is now watching you curiously as you take the baked goods off the tray one by one.

“That smells like…” he speaks up, but the words die on his tongue and you just smile, placing one onto a plate, holding it out for him.

“Here, try it.”

He hesitates, but takes the plate at last. Though it’s still hot and he should definitely wait a bit, it’s hard to resist, you know that. You watch him take a tentative bite and wait for his reaction as if he is about to tell you your future. 

“So? How is it?”

“It’s… it’s really… good. Really good.”

It’s obvious he is having a hard time admitting you did something right, but his face says it all. You just don’t understand why he looks kind of puzzled, but you think it’s just because he didn’t expect it to be this good. 

“I bet the croissants will be the bestsellers,” you chuckle as Harry takes bite after bite until it’s all gone. He devoured it so fast it’s incredible. You couldn’t help but focus on his pink lips while he ate and those tiny sounds he let slip… they surely planted some thoughts into your head, thoughts you shouldn’t be thinking of when it comes to Harry.

“Come on, I’ll show you the pictures.” It’s your attempt to clear your mind.

You walk out and grab the box that holds all the framed pictures you want to hang on the walls, of course, all of them feature Nana. 

“Okay, so I thought a few could go over here, and then on that wall as well, and these, I want them behind the counter…” You start explaining your vision, but when you turn around you see that he is staring at a photo in shock. “Harry? What’s wrong?”

You step closer and see that it’s the photo that was taken on your tenth birthday. You’re holding up one of the cupcakes Nana made just for you and she is standing behind you, with her hands on your shoulders. It’s a fond memory, one of your favorite birthdays you ever had. 

“Oh, is it the dungarees?” you ask, pointing at your outfit. “I wasn’t quite the fashion icon back then,” you chuckle.

“No, it’s– who’s this?” he asks, pointing at Nana. You give him a puzzled look, because it’s not rocket science to figure out who the woman in the picture is.

“That’s Nana, obviously.”

“But as in… your grandma?” He finally looks up at you and his face is frantic, as if he is solving a lifelong mystery. 

“Of course, Harry, what is goin–”

“Y/N, Nana was your grandma?”

“Yes!” you laugh in confusion. “Of course she was, that’s why I’m opening a bakery under her name with all her recipes she taught me!”

You can’t read the look on Harry’s face as he puts the photo back into the box and then starts walking around with his hands on his hips. 

“Why do you look like you just learned you were adopted or something?”

“Y/N, I didn’t… I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

“That you’re… Nana’s granddaughter. I had no clue.” He runs a hand through his hair and you try your best not to stare at how his bicep flexes in the movement. 

“What? Harry, why else would I be opening a bakery, named Nana’s right here, out of every possible place on Earth?”

“I don’t know!” he admits, throwing his hands into the air. “That’s why I… Okay, this is why I hated the idea so much. Because I knew Nana, I loved her! She was like… my grandma too! And I thought you just chose this name for fun!”

“Are you kidding me?” you huff in disbelief.

“I felt like you were ruining her memory, that’s why I was so against this place. I had zero clue that you are actually… related to her.”

“Oh my God, Harry!” There’s nothing else you can do other than just… laughing. This whole situation feels oddly comical, like something that only happens in movies. 

“I know, I’m sorry!” He exhales sharply and you truly see the regret on his face. “I was such a dick.”

“Yes you were!” you laugh in agreement. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Well, now at least I know why you were my biggest hater all along.”

“Not anymore!” He holds up his hands and finally breaks a smile that looks so fucking handsome, it makes you forget about everything in a second. 

Turning to the side he stares out the window for a moment before looking back at you.

“The snowing has stopped, let’s wrap things up and go home, alright? Big day tomorrow.”

You both go back to work, Harry finishes quite fast with the pictures so then he helps you clean up in the kitchen and you notice how obviously different the vibes are now. There’s no trace of his usual hostile behavior, in fact he is so open as he asks you about Nana and how the idea of the bakery came. Then he tells you about her as well, how he has known him for so long and after the passing of his stepdad Nana helped him through the toughest time of his life. You’re surprised the two of you never met when you were visiting, but you believe in faith and it must be because it wasn’t the right time. 

It’s almost ten by the time you’re locking up while Harry is scraping the snow off his jeep. It’s rather eerie to see the town so empty, but it’s also pretty, the untouched snow covering every inch of the scenery. 

“Thanks for the help. And the drive home,” you say when he has parked in front of your house. 

“I’ll pick you up in the morning as well.”

“What? There’s no need, Harry–”

“Just accept the help,” he flashes you a crooked smile. “I have a lot to make up for.”

“What if I say you’re forgiven?”

“Then I’ll do it because I want to spend time with you.”

His answer comes so fast and honest, you can’t mask the surprise on your face as you stare at each other in the dark car.

“Um, alright then. See you in the morning.”

“Good night. Y/N.”

You fumble with the belt and then climb out of the car, still feeling kind of giddy from his words. He waits for you to get to the front door and you wave at him before walking in. Through the closed door you hear the engine roar and he drives away, leaving you with quite a lot to digest.

Never in a million years did you imagine the opening of Nana’s to be like this. The small bakery is full to the brim, there are people everywhere, you haven’t stopped thanking everyone for the love and support and your heart leaps in your chest every time you hear someone talk about your beloved grandma. All the pastries are selling well, but as expected, the croissants are the biggest hit. 

But it’s not just the opening that has you smiling ear to ear.

Harry did show up early in the morning and he’s been helping you out all day as if he was getting paid for his work. In the kitchen, at the counter or by the tables, he’s been a one person army and your hero. You couldn’t have done it without him. 

You have just a couple of seconds to breathe between two customers and you peek over the crowd, spotting him right away by the table his mom and her friends occupy. He just made them laugh and he’s basking in their attention as he rolls the sleeves of his shirt up, revealing his tattooed arms. 

Fuck, he looks so good, it’s criminal. 

Now that he is not an asshole to you anymore, it’s pretty hard not to notice everything you’ve been trying to ignore about him. His charming dimples, his bouncy curls, the way he throws his head back when he laughs, how his nose moves when he talks, they was his hips sway when he’s walking… there is not one inch on the man you can critique.

The situation would be a lot worse if it was one-sided, but it appears that Harry is just as keen on being around you, always touching your lower back when he walks behind you, or brushing your arm to get your attention. 

“I’m seriously writing you a paycheck when it’s over,” you tell him when he returns behind the counter grabbing some cinnamon rolls to bring to the ladies by the window.

“I thought that we were already over this, Y/N,” he smirks and you bite into your bottom lip as you turn back to the customer in front of you. 

It kind of goes by in a blur, there’s so much happening, you’re always on the move and before you could even process the events, the day is over and Nana’s is closing for the first time. After the constant crowd, it’s weird to see the place empty again, but seeing that everything has sold, it finally settles in your mind: you did it.

As you turn the sign on the door your eyes slide over to the picture on the right. It was taken in Nana’s kitchen, you were about six or seven, the two of you are photographed from behind as you stand on a stool, next to Nana at the counter while she is teaching you how to make bread. The memory still lives vividly in your mind even though it’s been over two decades.

“She would be so proud of you.”

Turning around you find Harry behind you with a soft smile on his lips, his eyes on the photo at first, then they move to you and your heart skips a beat.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” he chuckles.

“So, I was serious. I owe you a paycheck after today.”

He rolls his eyes before arching an eyebrow at you.

“And I was serious when I said I don’t want anything in return.”

“You’ve been here since six, Harry!” you huff out a laugh. “I would feel so bad if you just went home without anything.”

He stares at you for long moments and you start to think he’ll just let you suffer with your guilt, but then he speaks up.

“Go on a date with me then.”

You suck on your breath as your eyes lock with his.

“What?” you whisper.

“Go on a date with me, Y/N. Will you?”

“I-If you’re still trying to make up for–” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I’m not. I told you, I want to spend time with you.”

You blink at him once, twice, as if you’re waiting for him to say it was just a joke, but he stands his ground with a serious look.

“Are you gonna leave me hanging?” he smirks, snapping you out of your haze.

“Yes–I mean, yes to the date!” you shake your head, clearing up your answer.

“I was afraid you hated me too much to give me a chance,” he breathes out a shaky laugh.

“I never hated you, I was just confused. You were the one who hated me.”

“I couldn’t hate you, Y/N. And believe me, I tried.” You both laugh at his words. “I was frustrated, because I wanted to hate you and this place so badly, but still… I was drawn to you.”

“You were?” you ask, your voice barely more than just a whisper.

“You have no idea how much,” he admits with a soft smile, stepping closer to you. “When we were skating, I totally forgot about everything and just wanted to hold your hand and help you. It was like a slap across my face when mum brought the opening up and I remembered I was supposed to hate you,” he admits with a chuckle and e inches even closer. “I’m glad I don’t have to try to hate you anymore.”

“I’m glad too.”

He is right in front of you, his face only inches away from yours and you suck on your breath when he reaches up and takes your chin between his index finger and thumb, angling your head further up so your lips are now perfectly lined up with his.

His eyes move down to your mouth, then up to meet your gaze and even without words you know he is asking for your permission to kiss you. You push closer and he is quick to close the distance and press his lips against yours.

You’d be lying if you said you never imagined what it would be like to kiss Harry. Because you did, several times. But nothing compares to having him wrapped around you, his lips so soft yet rough against yours at the same time as he kisses you over and over again while you’re fisting the collar of his shirt so tight your fingers are turning white. 

Maybe you kiss for hours, or maybe it’s just minutes, you have no clue, but when he finally pulls back, resting his forehead against yours, you just know your life is about to turn upside down.

“Changed my mind,” he speaks up at last.

“Huh?”

“About the payment.”

His words sink in slowly and your eyebrows rise.

“Oh.” Harry laughs at your reaction.

“I want my payment in kisses,” he then says with the cheesiest smile you’ve ever seen on his handsome face.

“That could be arranged,” you breathe out when you finally get what he was talking about and grabbing the back of his neck you pull him in for another one. 

And another one.

And some more.

And just like that Nana somehow brought another wonderful thing into your life, even though she is not here anymore.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[meggtheegg]

FNAF Movie Theory...

I'm pretty sure there's still one major plot twist in the universe of the movie that's been set up for a sequel but hasn't actually happened yet. Heavy spoilers under the cut:

After watching the movie in theaters and then revisiting a few scenes on Peacock, I'm still kind of convinced that Mike Schmidt is Michael Afton.

Here's my reasoning. A lot of the characters spend time acting like they know something the audience/other characters don't, and those things are...mostly resolved. But some of them just...kind of aren't.

The main thing that sticks out to me is William's whole storyline. Starting with the scene where he offers Mike the job, his behavior is almost explained by the movie's logic. He sees Mike's name, seems...kind of deeply upset, looks at him very closely, stands to get coffee, and has a moment of visible internal conflict. Then he instantly offers him the Freddy's job. The way the movie frames this, it seems to be saying that he recognized the name of one of his victims, realized this was the kid's brother, and decided to kill him right then and there. Which is passable as an explanation, but it has a lot of holes, if you look deeper.

Why would William so instantly recognize a fairly common last name as the brother of some kid he killed that wasn't even anywhere near Freddy's? Why did he kidnap/kill Garrett in the first place, in some random forest in Nebraska? Why did he see the name on the file, then immediately stop and examine Mike's face so closely, when Mike's memories/dreams pretty clearly show that they never saw each others' faces when Garrett was taken? Why did he send Vanessa to "keep Mike in the dark" if he purposely gave him the job to get him killed? Why not have the animatronics kill him right away? He didn't know that Mike was searching for the man who took his brother, and while he could have maybe guessed he was still actively haunted by what happened based on Mike beating up a guy that he thought was kidnapping someone, it still feels like a weird choice to go and hire him, then just have him do the job with no issue for a few days.

As for Vanessa, we see that she's been cleaning up William's messes for years. Why is Mike the one she changes her mind and stands up to her father for? There's no implied romance between the two and no particularly meaningful connection beyond them both having family issues. I guess she cares about Abby because she's a kid, but kids getting hurt clearly never stopped her from helping her father before.

And, on a more meta level, this is Scott and his storytelling style we're talking about. The man puts plot twists inside of plot twists and everything always ties back into the Aftons, somehow.

So, here's my theory: I think that Mike is William's kid, but Mike's mom left Afton when he was young and remarried the man that Mike thinks is his father.

It seems convoluted and maybe cliche, but if it's true, then suddenly there's an answer to all of those questions. "Michael Schmidt" isn't exactly an eye-catching name, unless you had a kid named Michael and your ex-wife married a guy with the last name Schmidt. Garrett's kidnapping, then, becomes an act of intentional, petty revenge rather than an extremely random coincidence. Giving Mike the job and sending in Vanessa suddenly becomes about piecing together how much he knows and figuring out if he's worth trying to reconnect with or is just a threat that needs to be killed. (It feels worth noting that William is as far as I can remember the only person to call him Michael in the whole film. He also very pointedly never says "Schmidt" until he's decided to kill Mike and suddenly announces his full name out loud. If he went by Michael as a little kid, that is what William would default to calling him, but if he took the new husband's last name, that would be like like salt in the wound that he wouldn't want to voice. By finally saying it out loud, it feels like he's making the decision to fully separate himself from Mike.)

As for Vanessa, if Mike is her brother, it makes sense that he would be the person she'd turn against William to save. It would be weird for her not to tell him, but she could also be trying to protect him, in some way. There's never any mention of her mother, and it seems like it's just been her and William for a long time. Also, ending the movie with her in a coma feels like a strange narrative choice, but it makes sense if she knows information that's purposely being kept hidden for the sequel.

Of course, it could just be that the movie has kind of messy writing and I'm trying to fix it because I want there to be a deeper reason for it. Maybe there is no Michael Afton in the movies, or maybe he's off chilling and doing his own thing somewhere and we'll see him in the sequel. Only time will tell.

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine Shanks finding out you like head pats

Kind of a part two to this post

Macro: *lands where the Whitebeard and Red hair pirates have joined together to fight the marines*

You: *trying to hanging on*

Marco: *pretending like nothing happened* whew boy, that was close, those bastards almost got us.

Shanks: *runs over* Oh you're in one piece. What happened, we couldn't find you after the marines left, we thought they had taken you

Marco: (y/n) saved me *strokes you on the head* Tackled me into a tree but still.

You: ( //^ w ^///)

Whitebeard: Thanks kid, for saving my boy *also pats your head*

You: (⁠｡--ω--｡⁠)

Benn: *notices your enjoyment*

Shanks: Oi, hands off, only I'm allowed to touch them without permission!

Weeks later

You: I can't believe you, Benn, did you snoop through my stuff!

Benn: Easy there, *gently ruffles your hair* I wasn't snooping, I was looking for my sweater and couldn't find it in your closet where you said it was, so I looked around. I didn't go through anywhere besides your closet, and dresser, minus the socks and underwear drawer.

You: oh, *relaxes when you feel the warmth from his palm seep into you* Okay then.

Shanks: *who thought you would kill him* whoa, whoa, wait, you damn near bit my head off last week for even setting foot in your room. And he gets away with going through your stuff!

You: Benn's different.

Shanks: Excuse me, how's he get that privilege.

Benn: Darlin', could you go get me the compass while I deal with him? *Gestures to you to go*

You: oh, okay

Benn: *the moment you're out of ear shot* I can get away with it for a few reasons. One, you're immature, you'll go through stuff you shouldn't like their dirty hamper or under their bed.

Shanks: wait, what's under their bed.

Benn: dunno, but reason number two, is they can probably smell you after you leave. You wear way too much cologne, and it's the kind that gives them headaches after a while.

Shanks: how come neither of you mentioned that before! I would have changed my cologne and how much I wear if I had known.

Benn: shut up and let me finish, and reason number three, that I got away with it, and you didn't is I know their weakness.

Shanks: What the hell are you on about?

Benn: do you remember during the last battle, when Whitebeard thanked them for saving Marco? And how he patted their head? That's their weakness, it automatically quells them.

Shanks: I don't buy.

Benn:*sees you returning* here watch.

You: Here you go. *hands him the compass*

Benn: Thanks doll *slides his fingers through your hair and gently scratches his blunt nails over your scalp*

You: (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Shanks: oooh *fully intends to use this knowledge to his advantage* Makes sense, they usually like having their hair pulled.

You: *Gawks at him in horror and confusion*

Benn: *laughs at you*

List of Up-and-coming works

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[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Hi! Can you do one where Valentina gets a boyfriend and Leo and her brothers dont like him because they know he going to break her heart?

Valentina Gets A Boyfriend (Fluff?/Crack?)

The Children series

Bayverse!Leonardo x reader

A/N: I’ve changed it up a little bit, so this is more about the moment they learn that Valentina has gotten a boyfriend💙

Warnings: Leo becoming full on confrontational father mood, brothers being annoying?

You guess it was bound to happen at one point. Ever since you first learned that your 16 year old daughter had been sneaking out, in order to meet with her friends on the world above. It was what happened with young people. Romeo did it when he started going out alone at the age of 18, Marcello would do it too, and so did Gerardo when he became old enough. Suddenly, it wasn’t uncommon for your sons to bring home one female at the time, or to sleep over at their girlfriend’s place. So when Valentina started doing it too, you weren’t surprised. What surprised you was how early she did it.

You were the one to catch her first, waking up in the middle of the night with a sudden thirst, only to find your daughter fully dressed on her way out. Of course you asked her what she was doing, and the look of terror on her face was noticeable. She was caught.

Valentina admitted everything to you. For around half a year, she had been sneaking out, meeting with her human friends before going to their place, watching movies, playing video games and eating not just pizza, but anything they could think of. But then, much to Valentina’s surprise, you let her go, telling her to call if anything were to happen, and to make sure that she got home before it got too late. She stared at you for a moment, before asking you if you were mad.

“Of course I’m not mad at you”, you said, reaching a hand out to stroke her cheek. “You’re young and living your life, and you should be allowed to do that. Heck, even Marcello and Gerardo was allowed to go out at your age, as long as they stayed with Romeo, so I can’t see why you shouldn’t do that with friends. And if you stay with people that’ll keep you safe, then I’m not worried. But… Don’t let your father and your brothers know. They probably wouldn’t be so happy about that”.

“Thank you, mom”, Valentina smiled, before embracing you in a tight hug. And then, with the quick speed she had gotten from her father, she was out the door, enjoying time with her friends.

Days went by, and then those days turned into weeks, and those weeks turned into months. Valentina would continue to hang out with her friends during the late hours of night, keeping it a secret from her father and brothers. But ever so slowly, she would let you know small pieces of her life. Such as her best friends, Juniper, Tova, Emil and Kobe, the ones that she would hang out with whenever she went out. She would mention them to you, whenever she was sure the two of you were alone, still not wishing for anybody else to know. But then she mentioned another name. Another name you had never heard before. Zander. She mentioned it once in passing, almost seeming shocked that she even mentioned it, before quickly moving on to other topics. But the damage was done. You knew of a Zander. How he was and what his relation to your daughter was, you did not know. But you had a feeling. Just like your parents did when you accidentally mentioned Leo for the first time. And soon, you would have your suspicions confirmed, although, not in the way Valentina would have wished.

It was a calm Saturday, with most of the extended family hanging around in the living area. It was the wonderful thing with weekends. With the turtles pretty much having full time jobs at the NYPD, it allowed them to have the weekends off, in order to spend time with their families, only coming in for work if it was absolutely necessary. Which it rarely was.

Valentina was tucked up on the couch, with her phone securely in her hand, a small smile making its way to her face every once in a while, along with a small lip bite. It wasn’t uncommon for your teenage daughter to sit with her phone like a lifeline. But it was uncommon for her to smile at it like that. And that was something her brothers noticed.

“What the hell are you smiling at?”, Marcello asked with a teasing tone, dropping down beside her on the couch, trying to get a look of what was on her screen. But instead he was met with an angry stare and her phone turned away from him.

“None of your damn business”, Valentina said, scooting away from him. That caused Marcello’s brows to rise, before he scooted closer, reaching out for a phone, pulling back when his hand was slapped hard. “What about none of your business did you not understand?!”, Valentina yelled, pretty much catching the attention of the whole lair.

“Damn, Teen Queen, why are you so mad?”, Romeo asked, taking a seat on the chair beside the couch.

“First, don’t ever call me that again. It’s gross”, Valentina pointed, causing Romeo to raise his hands in a surrendering motion. “Second, it’s not your business either”.

“Oh! Are you keeping secrets?”, Gerardo asked, pretty much coming out of nowhere, trying to look from behind the couch, causing Valentina to move away again, hiding her screen from him. “Let me guess. You’re on some fanpage for that old boy band, with middle aged women hoping that they would get back together soon”.

“I was 13 and had just learned about One Direction!”, Valentina yelled, letting her guard for just a moment, giving Marcello all the time he needed to snatch the phone out of her hand. And of course, Valentina’s luck would have you and Leo walk into the living area at that exact moment as Marcello saw the name on the screen and the last message.

“Who the hell is Zander, and why is he asking if you’re still on tonight?!”, Marcello asked out loud, all of his brothers’ eyes going wide, their mouths agasp.

“WHAT!?”, Leo’s voice boomed through the lair, the ground under you pretty much shaking as he made his way over to the couch in fast steps.

Valentina practically jumped for her phone in a panic, but damned be her older brothers and their quick reflexes. Marcello pushed Valentina away with a small shove, before throwing the phone to Romeo. And Romeo, being a true father’s boy, even in his early 30’s handed the phone straight to Leo. And with one look at the phone, Leo knew what was up. Of course he knew. He had done this himself when he was young.

“You’ve been out?!”, Leo asked, anger brewing under his disbelief. “Valentina Hamato, have you gone topside?” Valentina sat uncomfortable on the couch, looking down with her lip tucked between her lips, she gave a small nod after a long uncomfortable silence. The way her brothers scrambled to stand would almost have been comedic, had it not been for the strong tension in the air. Leo shifted his weight back and forth between his legs. He was fuming, doing his best to keep it down. “Who is Zander?”

Valentina’s answer was muffled. So muffled that Leo had to ask her to repeat, her brothers standing in silence to hear her answer. “My boyfriend”.

“BOYFRIEND!?”, your sons yelled out loud, even catching Leo off guard. “YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND!?”

“That’s what I said”, Valentina said, avoiding their eyes.

Leo wanted to ask more, but had to step back as Romeo jumped in front of him, confronting Valentina with questions of his own.

“How did you meet Zander?!”

“Through a friend!”, Valentina answered, already growing frustrated.

“A friend?!”, Marcello yelled, almost pushing past Leo. “What friend?! You don’t have any friends!”

“I do have friends”, Valentina said, rubbing her left temple. “It’s those friends I’ve been hanging out with when I’ve gone top side”.

Leo opened his mouth, ready to say something, only to be cut off by Gerardo, flapping his arms around in a furry. “But you can’t go top side! You’re only 16!”

“I’ve been going top side for almost a year”, Valentina said, causing her brothers to yell out a bunch of “what!”s, “no way!”s and “are you fucking kidding right now?!”, before continuing their questioning, focusing on Valentina’s boyfriend, already having determined that he was a bad influence, and that she should stop seeing him, all while Valentina rubbed the top of her beak, waiting for them to shut up.

Leo stood on the sideline, watching the whole thing play out in absolute confusion, before slowly making his way over to you.

“Can you believe it?”, he asked, gesturing towards your kids. You knew that he was talking about Valentina, but you decided to do otherwise, putting your focus on your sons instead.

“I know right. They have taken after you in their questioning too”, you smiled, watching your sons lose their mind at all of Valentina’s answers.

Leo’s brows rose, looking from your children to you, slowly realizing what you had just said, thinking back to all the times he had lectured his sons. “Am I really that bad?”

“Yup”, you said with a small nod.

“Oh”, Leo said, looking down at Valentina’s phone, still in the palm of his hand. “I should… probably give this back to her”.

“You should”, you smiled with a small nod, clapping your husband on the shoulder, before he made his way over and through the warzone, handing the phone back to Valentina, who looked like she was very tired of her brothers’ bullshit.

That night Valentina didn’t go out to meet with Zander, as she had been grounded for a month, due to her sneaking out. But after a week, Leo relented, letting Valentina go top side, on the condition that would give him a written update on her well-being over text every half hour, and that Zander would come down to pick her up, so he could have a word with him first. And of course, your sons wanted to be present as well. That was going to be interesting…

[offtorivendell]

Is an oily residue corrupting Azriel's hypothetical mating bond and making him feel off kilter? Is it related to Valg-type magic?

Disclaimer: this theory is a continuation of a few of my others that I've been too lazy to post until now - first I was going to post it for Elriel Month 2023, then Azriel Week 2023... it never happened - but like everyone else I'm having massive FOMO before HOFAS, so here we finally go, even though I know I've forgotten something lol. As usual, this makes no claims of being accurate, it's just theorising for fun.

A massive thank you goes out to @wingedblooms, @tswaney17, @silverlinedeyes, @psychologynerd, @ladynightcourt3, @cassianfanclub, and anyone else I've forgotten (sorry!) for all of our discussions that finally became this post. Love you guys. 💜

Spoilers: this is a Maasverse post, and draws from the ACOTAR series, CC 1 & 2/HOEAB & HOSAB, and the TOG series. It is CC 3/HOFAS spoiler free, as I'm waiting to read it in its "original English" 🤓 on the 30th of January. Please be respectful of that if engaging in the comments before it's published!

Plenty of people, including @silverlinedeyes, @icedflames and myself, have posted our thoughts on mating bonds in the Maasverse, and this theory builds on those previously established - though again, as yet hypothetical - ideas. Specifically, this post about the use of “oily” throughout the ACOTAR series is recommended reading.

What we do know is that:

Mating bonds contain threads, and so do spells.

Mates are the song/music of the soul, and their laughter is likened to music.

Different fae, and magics, contain different scents, be that personal or regional

First, let's go back to ACOWAR, when Feyre described the Ravens' entrance into the library as being like an off-kilter chord:

I felt it at the same moment she did. The ripple and tremor. Like … like some piece of the world shifted, like some off-kilter chord had been plucked. We turned toward the illuminated path that we’d just taken through the stacks, then to the dark far, far beyond. - ACOWAR, chapter 30

Initially, I had wondered if the King of Hybern had had Jurian use the Harp to infiltrate Velaris, but it was @merymoonbeam (I think) who theorised that the Cauldron might be mimicking the Harp, and maybe not doing the best job of it. Which made me wonder, could it do the same with mate bonds?

He left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much. - ACOSF, Azriel's bonus chapter

Looking at her now … She was pale, yes. The vacancy still glazing her features. But he couldn’t breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He’d said the same to Jesminda once. But even as shame washed through him, the words, the sense chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours. Mate. - ACOWAR, chapter 24

What if the Elucien bond, as either a spell or piss poor Cauldron-Made approximation of a bond, causes Azriel - and maybe Elain, possibly Lucien - nausea when Lucien is around because it's constantly changing, or reverberating over the top of, what remains of a hypothetical Elriel bond?

What if it's making the Elriel bond off-kilter, out of whack, imbalanced?

Does this make Azriel feel sick, nauseous, or simply overwhelmed/overstimulated?

When people are feeling off-balance, for whatever reason, they can feel sick or nauseous. It's one of the symptoms of vertigo, which can be triggered by severe headaches such as migraines. And guess who rubs their temples? Azriel!

Alternatively, certain chords played loudly enough on a string instrument can really mess with your chest - and where do mating bonds attach - if you're standing close enough for them to vibrate through you (at least, they do for me haha). It can be weirdly disconcerting, and I'd imagine that if Azriel or Elain feels something like this, no wonder he describes such severe discomfort that he needs to leave, and she shrinks away from Lucien, the unintentional cause of her pain.

Same with the smell; if the magic of the Cauldron, in whatever way, is messing with the smell that should be there? Contaminating it? Unbearable.

Is this too crack for you? Well, let's get even crazier.

I have previously suggested that the Cauldron's actions throughout the series could be tracked, in part, by SJM describing a feeling or quality as “oily,” and I've also wondered if the dark maker of the Cauldron - Koschei? - could have hijacked it in some way, as the Book of Breathings being made from leftover iron gave me “One Ring” vibes. I still stand by that, but with a clarification (and here is where the TOG and CC spoilers come in, FYI). I think it's only half of the magic belonging to the Cauldron that is "oily":

Throughout TOG, the Valg are heavily associated with “oiliness,” in terms of their blood and magic. The smell “reeks” and always results in the involved characters experiencing extreme revulsion, including headaches. Sound familiar?

Wyrdstone has an oily, hideous aftertaste.

Even in CC 1/HOEAB, Danika was described as oily when she came into Griffin Antiques.

Celaena looked at the sealed door, her stomach turning. A half-dried pool of blood lay at the base of the door, so dark it looked like oil. She crouched, swiping a finger through the puddle. She sniffed at it, almost gagged at the reek, and then rubbed her finger against the pad of her thumb. It felt as oily as it looked. - COM, chapter 45

“What the hell is that?” Rowan demanded, kneeling beside her, sniffing her outstretched hand. He jerked back, snarling. “That’s not dirt.” No, it wasn’t. It was blacker than night, and reeked just as badly as it had the first time she’d smelled it, in the catacombs beneath the library, an obsidian, oily pool of blood. Slightly different from that other, horrific smell that loitered around this place, but similar. So similar to— “This isn’t possible,” she said, jolting to her feet. “This—this—this—” She paced, if only to keep from shaking. “I’m wrong. I have to be wrong.” There had been so many cells in that forgotten dungeon beneath the library, beneath the king’s Wyrdstone clock tower. The creature she’d encountered there had possessed a human heart. It had been left, she’d suspected, because of some defect. What if … what if the perfected ones had been moved elsewhere? What if they were now … ready? - HOF, chapter 45

The overseer roared, thrashing as her magic swept into him, melded with him. But there was nothing inside to grab on to. No darkness to burn out, no remaining ember to breathe life into. Only— Aelin reeled back, magic vanishing and knees buckling as if struck. Her head gave a throb, and nausea roiled in her gut. She knew that feeling—that taste. Iron. As if the man’s core was made of it. And that oily, hideous aftertaste … Wyrdstone. The demon inside the overseer let out a choked laugh. “What are collars and rings compared to a solid heart? A heart of iron and Wyrdstone, to replace the coward’s heart beating within.” - EOS, chapter 15

* Side note, it's giving Tamlin and his stone heart.

Danika didn’t just look like she’d been rootling through the garbage. She smelled like it, too. Wisps of her silvery blond hair—normally a straight, silken sheet—curled from her tight, long braid, the streaks of amethyst, sapphire, and rose splattered with some dark, oily substance that reeked of metal and ammonia. - CC HOEAB, chapter 1

The Hind held Ruhn’s gaze as the game began. She was the spitting image of Luna, with her upswept chignon, the regal angle of her neck and jaw. As coldly serene as the moon. All she needed was a pack of hunting hounds at her side— And she had them, in her dreadwolves. How had someone so young risen in the ranks so swiftly, gained such notoriety and power? No wonder she left a trail of blood behind her. “Careful now,” the Harpy said with that oily smile. “The Hammer doesn’t share.” The Hind’s lips curved upward. “No, he doesn’t.” - CC HOSAB, chapter 33

I think the dark maker of the Cauldron could have been Valg, whether that's Koschei or someone else I don't know though Koschei currently makes the most sense. I also don't know when the dark maker would have had the chance to influence the Cauldron; was it always made from dark and light, or - as @fawnandshadows theorised a while back - did Koschei bastardise it after the fact? Where the Valg would fit in with the Daglan and the Asteri is also a mystery, though my current train of thought is that they could be family names or allegiances, like different clans of the same parasitical species, thanks to the description of Danika in HOEAB.

But, back to Azriel and his severe reaction to the Elucien bond.

I know I'm not the only one who wonders at the very Valg-ish themes with which Rhys and Azriel's powers have been described - maybe one day I'll post my thoughts about the possible link between lightsingers, shadowsingers, daemati and the Valg (but it is not this day lol) - and how that may have come about. For example, are the Valg interwoven, genetically, with the Avallen people, or is it because the Princes of Hel are also involved, and have similar magics? Are the Princes of Hel a similar species as the Valg, Asteri and Daglan, or completely different? Ugh, let's stop this spiral here.

Oily: the obvious train of thought being that oily things are slippery, which can lead to an imbalance… ie. becoming off-kilter.

Sounds like Azriel could be suffering from some sort of vertigo, of which symptoms can include nausea; severe headaches, such as migraines, may trigger an episode… and who rubs his temples enough that Elain noticed it?

Maybe Azriel can sense the corruption in the bond, either the current Elucien bond, or the hypothetical original bond between Elain and himself; if like calls to like, and his shadows are Valg-ish, maybe it is because his OG bond was fucked with. So, what if:

Azriel's shadows can slip away from spells and binding magic (Slippery > oily > Valg).

The guards at the prison know what he is.

Valg magic making Azriel nauseous and Elain sourcing/making a healer's powder for him? It's giving Chaol and Yrene. Especially since Elain (and Mor) make his shadows brighten.

So, we have in-text mentions of Azriel feeling overwhelmed due to the proximity of the Elucien bond, as well as Elain shrinking from Lucien - an action that parallels Azriel hanging out in the doorway, and even Lucien retreating to the human lands, if he feels any bond-related discomfort around Elain. But what about his initial response to seeing Elain, and thinking she was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen? The quote that sent me down the “oily” rabbit hole to begin with?

Looking at her now … She was pale, yes. The vacancy still glazing her features. But he couldn’t breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He’d said the same to Jesminda once. But even as shame washed through him, the words, the sense chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours. Mate. - ACOWAR, chapter 24

Well, Aelin felt oily disgust at the thought of marrying someone who wasn't Rowan:

“There are no allies,” Darrow said. “Unless Her Highness decides to be useful and gain us men and arms through marriage”—a sharp glance at Rowan—“we are alone.” Aelin debated revealing what she knew, the money she’d schemed and killed to attain, but— Something cold and oily clanged through her. Marriage to a foreign king or prince or emperor. Would this be the cost? Not just in blood shed, but in dreams yielded? To be a princess eternal, but never a queen? To fight with not just magic, but the other power in her blood: royalty. She could not look at Rowan, could not face those pine-green eyes without being sick. - EOS, chapter 5

This example from Aelin could describe Azriel and Elain’s potential future if Elain accepted a theoretically Cauldron spelled bond to Lucien, but also for Lucien and Jesminda, if they were originally true or fated mates before she was murdered.

Some final thoughts:

We know from TOG that healing light is known as the Valg executioner. In a parallel to Yrene killing Erawan with her healing light in KOA, Elain killed the King of Hybern - who I suspect was possessed or assisted by a Valg, as Feyre described his magic as a “galaxy” in his palms - with Truth-Teller, which had recently devoured the (her?) sunlight; does this mean that Elain could heal or purify Valg possessed things, with or without the magical, Made dagger? Could this be extrapolated to Azriel's magic, the Dread Trove, or even the Cauldron (possibly with Feyre and Nesta for the bigger ticket items)?

If the Asteri are the same species as the Valg, and the Valg somehow had a hand in making or twisting the Cauldron, it could follow that they used the Cauldron to create offspring bonds for a more powerful food source. If this pans out then Elain, bright light, could hypothetically heal the Cauldron. Maybe that is why Azriel describes her with purity language? Not because SJM wants to display Azriel's apparently toxic thoughts about her (🙄), but because she, along with her sisters, will be his/their salvation? Rhys once said as much to Feyre!

@mrspettyferr has suggested that Azriel's shadows ability to hide him from binding magic - see: the High Lord's meeting in ACOWAR - could have prevented his true bond from snapping with Elain when she came out of the Cauldron. This could be supported by any Valg/shadow link.

Thank you for reading! Please don't mention any CC HOFAS spoilers in the comments or reblogs until after it has been officially published. 💜

[queer-whatchamacallit]

(SPOILERS) Most of my initial thoughts about season 3 were extremely positive (because I love this show, by god, I love this show), but as I look at it more, I can see what it’s missing, and I can see why people are upset by it

I’m going to look at where The Bear focuses on the past (flashbacks, where characters revert and become their younger, less healthy selves, or where characters’ actions are thoroughly influenced by past trauma), the present (the state things are in, stagnation) and the future (positive change, potential)

Season 1 is primarily focused on the present. The staff slowly learns and changes for the better, but overall they still have 300k hanging over their heads, and there’s only so much that can change under those conditions. There’s pieces here and there that show how Carmy is influenced by his past, both his fucked up family and his time in fucked up kitchens, but he tries his hardest to bottle that up, so we don’t always see a lot. Season 1 is focused on the state of things in the restaurant, seemingly how it is and always will be to some extent. That’s until they find the tomato cans and hope for the future bursts in.

Season 2 focuses on that future. It focuses on change and rebuilding and how everyone is improving themselves. There’s no real focus on how things are because they’re completely changing what that is. There are pieces from the past here too. Claire is some bridge between past and future, tied to his family and who he’s been as well as the type of person he could be (one who lets himself have amusement and enjoyment). Everything and everyone changes until the very end, where Carmy’s stagnation, fear of that positive future, and romanticization of his past self bite him in the ass.

While season 1 is the present and season 2 is the future, there are traces of the other times these seasons.

Season 3 is almost entirely focused on the past. There are entire episodes focused on Carmy’s life at highend restaurants, Tina finding The Beef, and the Ever funeral ties together all these people that changed Carmy. These are beautiful, phenomenal moments, but there isn’t enough time given to the new order of things at the restaurant. There isn’t enough connective tissue. We get one episode that’s entirely focused on how the restaurant is running, but they tried to pack so much in through montages of failures that I don’t feel the stakes of any of them.

I wanted so so much more from Marcus’ story. Carmy’s grief was shown subtly through little moments of running the restaurant, but because they barely showed the restaurant, they barely showed Marcus. I really enjoy the moments we did get (conversations with Carm and with Syd), but it got completely lost when I feel like that should have been a centerpiece. The Bear is a show built on grief (it feels like most characters we meet have suffered a loss somewhat recently), but when another loss is suffered by a main character, it’s set aside for pretty flashbacks.

Carmy was so thoroughly gripped by his past this season that he fully tries to recreate the highend kitchens he used to work for. He is distant and dangerously fast-paced, but he is an excellent chef that creates meals with the best possible option for it.

He’s clearly not sleeping. Through the entire season, he feels as single-minded and self-destructive as he gets during his meltdown points (1x08 and 2x10).

I feel like someone should have stopped him. It feels out character that no one at least tried to. When Carmy’s working on the next day’s menu and shooting down everything Syd suggests, I was waiting for her to bring up “vibrant collaboration dude.” When Carmy was spraying out the alley, I was expecting Cicero to say something like, “Kid, I feel you may not have known this, but you are still on a fuckin budget. Your Orwellian butter can’t possibly be worth what we’re paying for it.” I was waiting the whole season for Sugar to just say, “Go home and get some sleep, Bear.”

If that review was as bad as Carmy’s, “motherfucker” made it out to be and if Cicero shuts down the restaurant, it will have felt preventable.

Sugar having the baby is the only real progression toward the future, and she doesn’t even get a name.

Everything shown of the past is phenomenal and gorgeous and heartbreaking, but there is so little progress made on the path we expected to and were hoping to be going down. I think you can make a season out of the present or the future, but the past doesn’t work quite as well. It has a lot of good, but it’s missing a lot of good too.

[sstormyskyess]

A Tender Surprise

author's note: hii guys i'm finally back to writing!! it took many weeks but i finished a piece [thank god] so i think i'll be back in the swing of things! if you pay attention to my tags you know i love priceghost and i wanna be a part of it 🙏 i hope y'all like this as much as i do!!

cw: smut, unintentional voyeurism, established ghostprice relation/situationship, oral sex (m receiving), sub!simon, handjobs, threesome

word count: 2500+

John Price x GN!Reader x Simon "Ghost" Riley

If there’s one thing everyone knew about Captain John Price, it was the fact that he always takes care of his team. No matter what, his team is his first priority. That didn’t change one bit when you were onboarded to the team. The very moment you showed up, he treated you like you had always been there without hesitation.

Of course, this wasn’t how everyone on the force treated you. You were an outsider after all; the others on the team barely knew you compared to Price, who you’d known for multiple years before he recruited you.

Ghost was the starkest offender in this case. No matter where you went or who you were talking to, if Ghost was there he was scrutinizing you, and he didn’t try to hide it in the slightest. At the very least, you appreciated his transparency on how he felt about you.

It took months of working together on operations and other missions for him to finally start letting his guard down enough for you to take a glimpse of the Ghost the rest of the task force knew and loved. It was a slow process, but it felt lovely to have his attention in a way that wasn’t unsettling at best.

Although you liked to think that all of it was simply him growing to like you just for you, the change in his attitude was supplemented by Price’s intervention along the way. The captain was a firm advocate of your skills and trustworthiness, and it certainly helped Ghost feel more comfortable around you.

After around a year and a half, you and Ghost have gotten much closer than you would’ve ever imagined upon first meeting him. Much, much closer. Close enough that you two will stay in each other’s private quarters overnight at least once a week, just for the sake of being in each other’s company. You’ve had many a late night talk, comforted each other through the worst of moods, and generally become more of a duo than just regular squadmates.

Tonight is one of those nights where you need someone to be around, just to keep your mind off your troubles for a little while, so you head to Ghost’s quarters just as you usually would. You made it to his door and gently nudged the door handle to check if it was locked or not, and to your relief, the door was open. Generally if he had the door unlocked, it meant he was fine with you visiting. No one else would be crazy enough to just open the lieutenant’s door without asking, so there was no need for concern.

So, you quietly open the door and push it open, taking a peek inside. It’s unlikely he’s asleep, even at this hour, but you don’t want to wake him up in the case he is. You’re met with a pair of eyes looking at you as your head slowly peeks inside, but they aren’t the caramel brown ones you’re used to seeing in the low light of the room. Instead, you’re staring into the soft blue-gray eyes of the one and only John Price, your captain.

If that wasn’t surprising enough, Ghost was there too, but his back was to the door as he sits between Price’s thighs, doing what you could only think is… giving his captain a blowjob. You can’t be fully sure, of course; Ghost is a big guy and he’s blocking off most of Price’s lower half with his large frame, but judging from the way his head is bobbing up and down, it’s hard to think of anything else he could be doing.

All you can do is stand there, eyes wide in disbelief. You had to be dreaming, right? This couldn’t possibly be real. Right?

You mouth out a ‘sorry,’ before starting to back out of the room, but Price stops you with a hand motion, beckoning you further inside. Somehow, he manages to compel you into walking inside fully and shutting the door behind you as quietly as possible, locking it and effectively sealing your fate. You’re not sure entirely what that fate may be, but the quiet sound of the lock clicking shut sounded eerily similar to that of a judge’s gavel dropping onto his bench, an intimidating sound indeed.

For a moment, you stand there awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other and just watching your best friend sucking off your superior casually as can be. You swallow past the lump in your throat when Price threads his fingers through Ghost’s short, dirty blonde hair, an act so intimate that it feels even weirder to witness than the rest of what’s happening in this very moment.

After a few more tense moments of you watching the spectacle in front of you, Price gently pulls Ghost away from his cock and gives him a small, yet warm smile. You can’t see Ghost’s face, but the way he relaxes and slumps forward a bit, you can tell he’s having just as much of a good time as his captain is. Price mumbles something to him and he nods, leaning into the hand on the back of his head.

You’re about to start sneaking out of the room again before Price meets your eyes again. At this point, Ghost finally notices the captain’s fleeting glances over his shoulder and he turns to see what he was looking at. You freeze, your whole body stiffening up when his eyes finally meet yours. You expect him to get angry with you, to shout at you to get out and not come back, but none of that happens. In fact, his gaze travels down your body and his gaze darkens with something that looks like lust.

“I-I, um…” You glance back at the door. “I’ll just go, I’m so sorry for barging in—”

“Stay.”

Ghost’s command stops you in your tracks and you stand frozen in place again, waiting for some kind of indication of what the two of them wanted from you. Did they actually want you to stay and watch whatever this was? You don’t get to question it much longer since Price looks at you expectantly and motions you over with a tilt of his head. Reluctantly, you approach the two and wait for another command.

Price pats the spot next to him on the bed and you sit there, hands in your lap and fiddling with each other nervously. His hand comes to rest on your lower back, a comforting gesture. “You’re free to leave if you’d like,” he says quietly, making sure you were looking at him before continuing. “But, we’d love to have you.”

Now, you were no stranger to fantasizing about your team members every now and then. You figure that was at least a bit expected, considering you were surrounded by a group of handsome men in their prime, but you knew nothing would come from it. So this can’t possibly be real. It just can’t be. You’re sitting on a bed with your captain—who has his cock out and standing proud—looking at your friend sitting between his legs with wet lips from having just been sucking him off. This was far beyond any of the offhand scenarios you’ve brewed up in your head during your many late nights in a number of safehouses all across the world.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to indulge in whatever they had planned for you.

“I don’t want to leave,” you say with certainty, though your voice still shook ever so slightly. Price gives you a kind smile when you speak your consent, then his eyes shift from you to Ghost. “Does that sound good to you, sunshine?” The way Ghost responds so readily to the nickname is endearing, so much softer than you ever imagined Ghost could be. He looks so relaxed like this, so content to be looked down upon so lovingly. It makes you wonder what exactly their relationship is, but you don’t ask simply because it would likely take a long time to explain it fully. Just this few minutes of bearing witness to the dynamic displays such complexity you doubt you could ever understand.

The fact they want you here for it is flattering, to say the least.

Price taps your back to grab your attention. “How about you sit down there with him and stroke him for me?” You nod and Ghost watches you intently as you slide off the bed and settle behind him. Your nerves start to get to you again as you begin to realize the barrier you were about to breach.

Ghost can sense your stiffness and he reaches back to run a hand up and down your thigh. You shiver and shuffle a little closer to him, pressing yourself against his back fully. His touch gave you confidence, letting you slide your hands around his waist and he hums appreciatively at the contact. 

“Go on and get his cock out, love,” Price instructs, but it sounds nothing like the firm tone you usually hear him use when he’s giving out orders. No, his voice is smooth, like a warm velvet sheet draping over you. In a way, it’s even more compelling than his more authoritative tone.

So, you do as he asks. Ghost makes a small noise in the back of his throat when your tentative hands palm his cock through his joggers. The size of him makes your breath hitch and you wonder if you’ll even manage to wrap your hand all the way around him with how thick his dick was. He lays his hand on top of yours, his fingers laying on the back of your hand. Slowly, you reach into his pants and boxers, your hand coming into contact with the soft skin of his hefty cock. He was just the slightest bit wet from a mix of his precum and sweat.

With a slight shake to your hand, you manage to maneuver his hard-on out of his pants and use your sense of touch to visualize what it might look like since you can’t see over his broad shoulders. It’s about as large as you imagined it would be with a couple thick veins along the underside, perfect to trace your fingers along. He shudders and sighs at the pleasant feeling of you doing just that, his head tilting back.

Price runs a hand through Ghost’s hair again to get his eyes back open and focused on him. “You ready to finish up what you started, sunshine?”

“Yes, sir,” Ghost mumbles, leaning into his touch. Price hums his approval, gently pulling his head forward and letting Ghost resume his worshiping of his cock.

You watch, enraptured by his ministrations. Your hand starts to tug at Ghost’s cock, pulling back his foreskin and rolling your palm over the tip to spread the slow drizzle of precum leaking from his cock. It punches out a grunt from him and his hips jump.

After a while, there’s spit coating his chin and dripping down his neck as a result of him taking Price’s cock so obediently. The wet sucking noises coming from his throat had your sex throbbing along with your heartbeat. Seeing Ghost so open and calm was a beautiful sight to see, and mixed with the way Price was looking down at the both of you with such reverence made it even more fulfilling.

Ghost is twitching in your hand, but he’s so good at holding himself back. You imagine anyone else having as much fun as he was would’ve finished by now, but not him. He’s still moaning up a storm though, his chest rumbling against your free hand. He shifts under your touch and takes hold of your hand and slides it under his shirt, putting it on his bare stomach. You get the message and start to paw at the soft layer of fat covering his muscles, tensed up because of the pleasure bubbling up beneath the base of his cock.

Price is grunting now too, praises and encouraging words falling from his lips, spurring Ghost on with a deep, needy moan. He sighs contentedly and extends his hand past Ghost’s hair and onto the top of your head, his fingers rubbing circles into your scalp. “You’re doing well, too, love. Taking such good care of our boy,” he says with a soft smile.

Our boy. Our boy. Something about that made your heart swell and the heat between your legs grow. You have to squeeze your thighs together to  keep yourself satisfied, having gone neglected for what felt like ages. A quiet whimper builds up in the back of your throat. Price chuckles at that and he looks down at Ghost. “You’re going to return the favor, aren’t you Simon?” Ghost nods the best he can with Price’s cock in his mouth and a wave of anticipation rolls through you.

You glance up from where you were looking straight forward to see Price’s hips buck upwards, making Ghost gag with a wet choking sound. It only seems to make him more eager and he grabs one of his captain’s thighs to steady himself, giving him more leverage to take him even further down his throat. Tears start to roll down his cheeks from the exertion and you see the wetness on Price’s fingers when he tenderly wipes Ghost’s cheeks clean. “Don’t push yourself too hard, sunshine.”

You chance running a hand up Ghost’s stomach, giving him time to pull you away if he wished, but all you feel is his abs tightening under your touch. 

Ghost sucks a quick breath in through his nose when you stroke him with a bit more fervor and he grabs your wrist with his other hand. His thighs shake and a shudder falls down his spine; he’s getting close. He groans around the dick in his throat, thrusting into your hand to meet it halfway. He moans around Price’s cock and you feel him throbbing in your palm.

Within a few more strokes he’s shooting his load out onto the floor and your hand, shuddering at the overwhelming feeling of you working him through his climax. He takes a deep, open-mouthed breath when Price pulls him away from his cock, now flushed bright red and glistening from Ghost’s drooling mouth. It registers for you at that point that Ghost wasn’t sucking cock for his captain’s pleasure, but for his own. This dynamic of theirs was much more… complex that you originally thought.

You rest against Ghost’s back and he leans back into you. Price’s fingers are running through his cropped dark blonde hair while he catches his breath. You can’t fully hear all of the murmured praises Price is offering Ghost, but you can tell there’s a gentleness there that was surprising coming from the two gruffest men you’ve had the pleasure of meeting.

A large hand comes to rest on your thigh and you jolt a bit, having been caught up in the second-hand feeling of warmth that was radiating from the pair. Ghost’s hand runs up and down your thigh, his nails scraping along the fabric of your pants just a bit, giving you chills. His voice is more gravelly than normal and you can hear the smirk in his voice when he utters his promise, “Your turn.”

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Where's Mommy?

Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Part 7

Summary: Wolffe's wife suddenly dies, leaving him a single father in the middle of a war.

Pairing: Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Characters: Wolffe, Cara (child OFC), Comet

Tags & Warnings: heavy angst, mention of death, off-screen death, spousal death, grief, hurt/comfort, family fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

Author's Note: We are back to the Wolffe angst! (but did we ever really leave?) This part is really sad. I know I keep saying that, but this one actually made me tear up while writing it. I don't usually get emotional when writing emotional scenes, so yeah. Do with that what you will. As always, please enjoy 💚

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"Cara," Wolffe said after a moment of them sitting silent. "I need you to go with Comet and pack some things from your room, okay?"

Cara looked up at him with a puzzled expression. "Why?"

"Because we can't stay here without mommy," Wolffe explained.

"Oh," she frowned. "Where are we going?"

"The Jedi Temple," Wolffe said. "We'll be staying with Plo for a while."

"I don't want to go," she pouted.

Wolffe sighed. "I don't want to go either, but we don't have a choice. Please, help daddy and go with Comet to pack."

"No," Cara whined.

"Come on, ad'ika," Comet said. He hopped off of the couch and stretched his arms over his head. "I bet I can pack faster than you."

"Nuh uh," Cara said, then jumped off of Wolffe's lap and ran toward her bedroom.

"Well, that was easy," Comet chuckled. He looked down at Wolffe. "You okay?"

Wolffe sighed. "Do you want a real answer?"

Comet frowned. "I guess that was a dumb question."

"I'm fine," Wolffe said, but his facial expression betrayed his words.

Comet decided to change the subject. "How many boxes can she bring?"

"One," Wolffe said. "The Jedi aren't big on things."

"Understood," Comet nodded, then walked off to follow Cara.

"Oh, Comet," Wolffe threw over his shoulder. "Make sure the di'kute in the kitchen clean up their mess."

Comet smirked. "10-4."

Wolffe remained seated on the floor and fidgeted with the carpet pieces again. Fine. He didn't even know what that word meant anymore. He used to, back when life was simple and fine just meant he wasn't dead. Now, he wasn't sure what to feel, how to feel, or how to deal with whatever feelings he was having. Sure, he felt sad when his brothers died, but something about this death felt much different. It felt heavier, denser, tighter, and suffocating in a way he couldn't fully explain.

Unwilling to dwell on his unchecked thoughts, Wolffe grabbed whatever box he could find and headed to his bedroom. He scrolled through the mental list he made and collected all of the obvious items he wanted to keep. Some things were on the bookshelf, like her favorite holo-novel. Some things were in the dresser, like her nightshirt and a lingerie set he bought her for their first anniversary. And some things were on the bedside table, like the holo-photo album and her half-used chapstick.

He opened the bedside table drawer to check if there was anything hiding in it he wanted and his heart sank. His gold wedding band sat alone in the drawer. He almost forgot about it. He couldn't wear it most of the time, but usually he'd put it on when he was home. He didn't even get a chance this time around. He picked up the shiny band and admired it fondly, reading the inscription and the date on the inside. His wife saved every credit she had to buy those rings for them and he promised to repay her one day. He carefully placed the memento in the box.

Wolffe rummaged through the closet next, pulling little bits and pieces of his wife out and placing the most important items into the box. He only had one box, so he needed to make every spot count. He shifted a stack of clothes to the side on the top shelf and a data-stick fell to the ground with a small clack. He bent over to pick it up and studied it for a moment, wondering what could be on it. He walked over to the holor-projector across from the bed, plugged in the data-stick, then sat on the edge of the bed. An image popped up of his wife and his breath was stolen as the recording played.

Hi darling, his wife said with a warm smile while sitting next to Cara at their kitchen table.

Wolffe gasped, then covered his mouth. He remembered when his wife sent him this recording on Cara's third birthday. He was away on a mission, and wasn't able to look at it for a couple of rotations, but it made him so happy to see them both. He'd been on that mission for months and missed them dearly. He completely forgot about it until now, and couldn't believe his wife kept it all this time. She looked so beautiful that day, and Cara was all dressed up for her special day, too.

Today is Cara's third birthday, she continued, then looked at Cara. Say hi to daddy.

Hi daddy! Cara yelled with a big grin.

"Hi baby," Wolffe said. It might seem stupid to say hello to a recording but he didn't care.

It's time to sing happy birthday, his wife said. Ready, Cara? Nice and loud so daddy can hear.

Cara nodded and they both started to sing. Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Cara, happy birthday to you.

Wolffe's eyes turned misty and his body trembled as he tried to contain his emotions.

Now, blow out the candles and make a wish, she said.

Cara blew out the three lit candles and his wife clapped.

What'd you wish for? she asked with a big smile.

Daddy come home! Cara yelled towards the recorder.

Wolffe couldn't hold back the tears that rolled down his face. He wished he had more time with her. With both of them, together, as a family. It was too short. He didn't even get the chance to give his wife the life she deserved. The life he promised her. She took care of everything while he was deployed, and he vowed to take care of everything when the War was over, but now… Every vow he made to her had turned to ash. Until death do us part was the promise, but now, death had claimed her.

Okay, Wolffe, his wife said. I know this needs to be short, so we're gonna say goodbye now.

"No," Wolffe's voice cracked. "Please, don't say goodbye."

Say goodbye to daddy, she said to Cara while waving towards the recorder.

Bye, daddy! Cara yelled and waved.

"Please," Wolffe begged, his entire body shaking. "Cyare. Don't go."

Come home soon, she said, then blew a kiss. I love you, Wolffe.

The recording ended, but the last image of his wife stayed on the screen. Wolffe stood up on shaky legs and approached the projected image. He stretched out his hand to touch his wife's cheek, but his fingers passed through the pixels. He gasped, then tried again. This time to brush her hair with the palm of his hand, but it also passed through. It was just an image. It wasn't real. She wasn't real. Why wasn't she real? All he wanted to do was touch her one more time and hug her one more time; to feel her warmth.

"I love you, too," Wolffe whispered through broken breath.

Wolffe carefully pulled the data-stick out of the holo-projector and cradled it in his hands. Besides his daughter, this was his most prized possession. His wife's voice. He thought he'd never hear it again, and he didn't know if it helped him feel better or made him feel worse. Regardless, he nestled the special memory into the box and surrounded it with his wife's other things to keep it safe from harm. If anything ever happened to that memory, Wolffe didn't know what he would do.

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[egrets-not-regrets]

Two Months

Two months, it took two months before Erriox decided to stay. Lenora has an “Oh no! He’s hot!” moment.

Dialogue in High Gothic will be in bolded italics.

Author's Note: This takes place after "Exchanges". The full chronological order of Lenora and Erriox's stories are in my master list.

OCs: Erriox (Iron Warrior), Lenora

Tagged: @kit-williams, @bleedingichorhearts, @shadowfirecat, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Two months. Two months was how long it took before Erriox decided to make himself a permanent fixture in Lenora’s life. 

It started with Erriox returning a week after his first visit, then it became every few days. Sometimes staying for a cooking lesson and/or a meal, other times, joining her on walks through the forest surrounding her home, or merely stopping for a conversation; never staying, even though her invitation was always there. His visits were so frequent to the point where Lenora always felt his presence, despite her not physically seeing him in person, short of the weeks when he left to go on missions with his warband.

She likened his behaviour to a feral dog or cat, coming and going whenever he pleased, but hadn’t quite let his guard down to stay for too long for fear of getting trapped. Erriox never explicitly said where exactly he was staying, but Lenora had the feeling he was somewhere nearby given the frequency of his visits. She did appreciate the extra sense of security his visits provided though.  

It was about a month in when he first stayed overnight. Lenora found him on her porch, waiting out a heavy rainstorm, looking like an unhappy wet cat, as much as a fully armoured space marine can look like an unhappy wet cat. She ushered him into her home, threw him some towels and clothes that Mithras left behind, then told him to shower then join her for dinner. Lenora never knew how both Erriox and Mithras cleaned themselves. She figured it would be pretty cramped given her bathroom was designed for humans in mind, but let it go as some things were better left unasked. She trusted that those two knew what they were doing. 

That was also the first time she saw Erriox fully out of armour. Heat rushed up her face and into her belly when he came into view, fresh out of the shower. She looked him up and down, before quickly turning to plate up the food to serve. Lenora hoped he didn’t notice her blush. 

Mithras’ pants were a bit of a tighter fit, but luckily were made of a more elastic material, so it worked. His shirt, on the other hand, was too small so Erriox went without it, battle scars on the upper-half of his body on full display. Not that Lenora was complaining; it was a privilege to enjoy the sight of this living beefcake eye candy around. Scars only added to his character.

Erriox wasn’t so ignorant as to not notice his human’s reaction. The subtle change in her scent and acceleration of her heartbeat was hard to dismiss. He preened under her gaze and was amused by her struggle to maintain eye contact as they conversed that evening. He filed the memory away in his mind, secretly planning to do this again one day.

After that, Lenora gave him access to the old barn next to her house. It was empty outside of the few pieces of furniture that were stored there and she never really used it. At least this way, he would have a proper shelter to stay dry and out of the elements if needed rather than taking shelter on her porch, considering his tendency to not stay overnight in her home. Lenora told him he could make use of the barn however he wished, which Erriox appreciated. It wasn’t long before she could hear him working on making improvements to the barn structure itself.

Lenora was surprised the day she found him fixing up the back wall of her house. She had been meaning to have someone take a look at it at some point. “What are you doing?” she asked

“Fortifying your home.” Erriox answered her, as if that was the obvious answer. 

“Did you already finish the construction on the barn?” He had been working on it previously, she thought, confused. Lenora was pretty sure he meant to turn it into his base or workshop, or something similar. 

“No, but you do not live in the barn.”

“Oh…” That was when it clicked as to what the Iron Warrior was trying to do. Lenora went speechless, touched by such an incredible gesture, “I… Thank you, Erriox. Thank you for doing this. I don’t even know how to even begin to repay you.” 

“Let me stay with you?” He knew that her invitation for him to stay had always been open, but at least this way, he felt he was more deserving of such an offer. 

Lenora smiled, warm and welcoming; Erriox knew then, he would grow fond of that smile.

“Of course you can. For as long as you want.” 

[danaewrites]

Helmet Over Heels

part iii: harder to hide than i thought

din djarin x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 4.2k

summary:  When your path literally collides with a beskar-covered Mandalorian one night, neither of you expect how that meeting will irreversibly change the trajectory of your lives. 

You’re pulled into his powerful orbit, agreeing to take care of his son in exchange for adventure and freedom– when he’s not off hunting bounties and inadvertently saving villages in need, that is. It’s the perfect plan. Or it would be, if only your quiet crush on the man would stop growing into something more with every hour you spend together. There’s no way he’d ever feel the same, right?

And Din? Well, he’s been trying (and failing) to convince himself that he’s not completely helmet over heels for you since day one. But a Mandalorian can only repress his emotions for so long…

(This fic takes place sometime after Season 2. Din’s back on his bounty-hunting business with a Razor Crest that was never destroyed and an adorable green sidekick who won’t stop chewing on its wires.)

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, slow-ish burn, nicknames, touch-starved din djarin and fem!reader, canon-compliant through season 2 and then Jesus takes the wheel :P

author's notes:

the first part of this chapter is very much inspired by Space Song by Beach House. imagining the pretty lights of hyperspace instead of the slope fields i’m working on in calculus has kept me sane, so hopefully you beautiful readers have as much fun with that as i did!

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v coming soon!

You slowly stirred to consciousness, face scrunching up at the heat of the sun on your face. Memories flowed back to you in disjointed flashes, slowly piecing together the setting of your current prone, relaxed state.

You’d spent the night mesmerized by the bright lights of hyperspace that lit up the darkness beyond the ship’s windows, fighting the sleep that threatened to lower your eyelids. You tried your best to remain quiet and allow Mando to pilot you through the galaxy in peace, but you couldn’t help the gasp that slipped out when the white beams momentarily faded into pastel shades of lilac and chartreuse. His helmet snapped sharply towards you at the sudden noise, tensed shoulders only relaxing once he saw the awed expression on your face. 

“You haven’t seen this before?” He sounded surprised, and for a moment you felt embarrassment twist in your stomach at your lack of travel experience. He sighed, baritone turning low and thoughtful. “Come here.” He gestured for you to lean closer to him, directing your attention to a small cluster of dots on the navigation holoscreen.

“We’re passing through the Cresser Nebula. The original star died too recently for the dust to fully disperse,” he explained. “The extra material makes the hyperspace tunnel thinner for a moment– those colors are the new stars forming outside of it in the leftover gas.” He spoke with an unexpected patience, and you wondered whether he’d learned it from attempting to teach Grogu. In your experience, trying to keep the green baby’s focus for longer than a minute was a constant challenge. 

You’d hung onto his careful speech, memorizing every detail as he continued his quiet tour of the cosmos. It was the first time you’d ever truly heard about the intricacies of space; your overwhelming focus on surviving Nath’s harsh environment generally took up any extra time you could’ve used to learn about the rest of the galaxy. You didn’t intend to let a single lesson of his go to waste, not when you were finally free to hear them. 

You snuck a glance at the reflection of his silver helmet in the arched window, admiring how the lights shimmered across the beskar. You wondered what he was looking at beneath the metal mask: the pretty blur of hyperspace, his blinking console, or maybe the tiny lever where Grogu’s ball rested? There was just so much to watch, from the endlessly flickering radar screen to the breathtaking display of deep space beyond the glass paneling. You didn’t think you’d ever get sick of the view; you’d stay on his ship for the rest of your life if it meant you could enjoy the peace of hyperspace every night. Despite your pondering, his visor gave nothing away, and you forced yourself to pull your eyes away before he caught you staring. 

The quiet rhythm of his steady, modulated breaths beside you only added to the calmness that settled into your fatigued bones. Eventually, your exhausted brain must have shuttled you away to dreamland somewhere in the trance of hyperspace. Maybe you had been more tired than you thought, because you certainly didn’t remember bringing a blanket this comfortable back to your seat. You were wrapped in something thick and warm, a soothing contrast to the cool leather beneath your thighs. 

A tiny sigh found its way out of your mouth as you pressed your face into the soft fabric, shielding yourself from the daylight before you were forced to face reality once again. Stars, but it was lovely. The faint smell of woodsmoke and vetiver and something mechanical—blaster grease, maybe—enveloped you as you melted into the cloth, overwhelmingly reminded of days spent playing in your family’s workshop back on Odala. You’d forgotten so much of what life was back then, simple and joyful, but this tiny luxury of sensation brought back some of those precious memories. 

A quiet inhalation echoed from above you and your eyes snapped open. You jolted up from the cool leather of the passenger seat to see Mando paused mid-step before you, helmet tilted towards where you had snuggled into the blanket. You looked down to see that the blanket was not a blanket at all; it was, in fact, his own deep grey cloak that you were clutching like it was your child. Your face flamed and you quickly relaxed your grip, awkwardly smoothing out the areas where your hands had wrinkled the charcoal fabric. 

Had he given you the cloak? You didn’t think you had a habit of sleepwalking, and there was no way he’d have been unaware of you somehow snatching it in the night. Grogu was still wherever he’d been dropped off, so his shenanigans couldn’t have been involved. That left the most logical option– that Mando had been the one to settle the soft fabric against you in the darkness of the cockpit. 

You felt your cheeks flush again, this time from acknowledgement of the unexpectedly thoughtful action. You knew that following the temptation of that warm feeling led to nothing but danger. You couldn’t risk messing up the best thing that’d happened to you since you escaped your ruined homeworld, but… it’d been so long since anyone tried to take care of you, even with a gesture that small. Your traitorous heart beat a little faster at the thought. 

“I— have you been awake long?” You spoke sheepishly, hoping to distract him from the messy tangles in your hair and the redness left on your cheek from being pressed into the seat all night. You were sure you looked ridiculous, though the Mandalorian appeared perfectly polished as usual. The mud and soot from the previous day’s activities had been scrubbed from his armor, replaced with a subtle shine. 

“No.” He dragged his glance away, moving past you to flip a series of switches above the pilot’s seat. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, feeling the Crest settle onto the ground with a muffled thunk. You opened your eyes to find that the sunlit clouds of the atmosphere had disappeared, in its place an arid desert with a bright metropolis of a city on the horizon. The planet’s name was Nevarro; according to the navscreen, it was located in the Outer Rim. You had landed near its titular city, an old trading stop and the location of the Bounty Guild’s main headquarters. 

“The kid’s been staying with some old friends here. Sent them a comm that I’d be coming today,” Mando said as he straightened from his position crouched over the controls. 

You nodded, tugging your shirt down from where it had risen up over your abdomen when you slept. A frown creased your forehead as you stared at the worn piece of fabric. You hadn’t had the chance to retrieve the rest of your minimal wardrobe before leaving Nath– the swarm of angry citizens around your rental pod had made sure of that. If you were to survive the wide range of galactic temperatures while traveling with Mando, you’d definitely need a few more outfits. You made a mental note to persuade him to make a market detour before leaving the city. 

Mando opened the cockpit doors with a pressurized hiss, and you scrambled down the ladder after him. Your eyes wandered over the tidy hull of the ship, surprised at how neatly-kept it was now that you were seeing it in full light. It was bigger than you expected, too. There was enough space for a cramped but functional ‘fresher, tucked beside what appeared to be a bedroom. You caught a glimpse of a miniature hammock suspended across a corner of the small room. That must be where Grogu slept, if the little red sheet hanging off the edge was anything to go by. Beneath it, you noticed a set of dark, slightly-wrinkled blankets stretched across a lowered bed frame. 

Your eyes widened slightly as you realized that Mando must have slept there sometime after you passed out. It was oddly intimate, seeing proof that even the armored bounty hunter had human needs. At least, you assumed he was human, from his shape and voice. You’d spent longer than you’d willingly admit imagining what he might look under the layered beskar, eventually coming to the conclusion that a pair of green ears would definitely not fit under the helmet. The father and son didn’t appear to share any physical characteristics, and you wondered what their story was. Hopefully, you’d find out some of that information while taking care of Grogu.

Your attention focused back on the rest of the hull, eyes tracing the supplies stacked neatly by the net-lined walls with evident curiosity. Mando gestured to a dark set of doors by the ship’s entrance. “That’s the carbonite freezer. I’d suggest you stay away from those buttons, unless you want to travel like a bounty,” he warned. 

You eyed the area with trepidation and nodded. He seemed satisfied with your response, pressing another set of buttons until the boarding ramp lowered. “Behind the cockpit is the galley– it’s not much, but you’re welcome to use it.” 

You nodded again, relieved that you wouldn’t have to subsist on flavorless ration packets while traveling. Maybe you’d even have the time to experiment with a few new dishes– a luxury not afforded to you during your hectic hours at the cantina. “What are Grogu’s favorite foods?”

“Anything that hops,” the Mandalorian grumbled, tone quickly filling with exasperation. “He’s not picky when he’s on the ship, but take him outside for a minute and the kid’ll have eaten all the frogs in a damn parsec.” 

Your mouth quirked up as you imagined the little green child stuffing his face with whatever unfortunate amphibian dared to go near him. Like father, like son, you supposed. Those hunting skills had to be passed on somehow. 

“And you?”

Mando paused his descent onto the ramp, clearly caught off guard by your question.

“What meals do you prefer?” You clarified, mind wandering to all of the dinners you’d saved for him back at the cantina. You could never quite determine which he liked best, since the bowls were always scraped clean no matter what you put in them. You weren’t sure whether that said more about your ability as a chef or the lack of actual food aboard the Crest. “I’m more of a fresh fruit and vegetables person myself, we never got much of those back on Nath,” you admitted. 

He coughed, modulated voice rough with surprise. “I— whatever you make is fine.” You remained silent, fixing him with an expectant look. Men. 

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke, “I liked the spicy orange stew.” At your blank look, he continued. “With the little… bread pockets?” 

Your eyebrows raised at that, and you hummed thoughtfully as you remembered the dish he was talking about. “Oh– the napethsh curry!” 

That had definitely been one of your finer culinary moments. Your boss had brought in packets of rich, aromatic spice powder that morning for the day’s special– a rare, delicious find. You’d carefully shaken them into a savoury pot of sandgrain with the last of the sweet tubers, alternating between stirring the dish and flipping fried bread puffs on the pan next to it. Your eyes had fluttered shut in pure appreciation when you’d finally tasted your handiwork, and if Mando’s reaction had been at all similar— well, you couldn’t blame him for wanting more. 

“Spicy food, huh. I can work with that.” You beamed up at him, visions of fragrant curries dancing in your head as you followed him into the sandy landscape. You’d bet a fair amount of credits that a market on a desert planet like Nevarro would have no lack of spice vendors. If your haggling skills were up to par, Mando might get his wish granted faster than expected.

***

The Crest had landed within a reasonable distance of Nevarro, but when you finally reached the metropolis you felt as if you’d been walking for miles. It would take some time for you to get used to the feeling of intense heat on your skin instead of the bone-chilling Nathian winds. 

All your discomfort, however, was quickly forgotten as you entered the city. Terracotta buildings lined the narrow, twisting streets; each structure featured no less than four oval windows and was topped with a dome that curved to a sharply pointed apex. Vibrantly dyed clothes fluttered in the desert wind, carefully draped across thin lines of rope that criss-crossed over the alleyways. You watched as a group of laughing children weaved between the booths of haggling vendors in their pursuit of a hovering disc. It was noisy and cramped and reminded you so much of home that your breath caught in your chest.

You didn’t notice that you’d stopped walking until Mando called your name, breaking the spell the warm environment had put on you. Your gaze snapped up to see the beskar-clad man paused several paces in front of you. Kriff. Had you really been that lost in thought?

“Sorry, I– got distracted,” you offered sheepishly, almost tripping over a loose cobblestone in an effort to catch up. “Where are we headed?”

“There’s a school here, where the old Guild headquarters used to be.” Your armored companion adjusted something on his helmet, scanning the area before he motioned for you to follow him down a less-crowded street. “Don’t know whether the kid likes the lessons or stealing his classmates’ lunches more,” he grumbled under his breath. You gave a small chuckle at that, remembering Grogu’s endless attempts at sneaking a treat from the bar whenever your back was turned.

You stayed close to Mando as he led the way through Nevarro’s crooked streets, gawking at the liveliness that seemed to infect the entire town. People smiled at each other as they passed, shouting multilingual greetings from across the busy pathways. It was so very different from Nath, where the most interaction you’d get in a week outside of your work was a couple of suspicious glares from the old women selling fish on the street corners. You’d felt so isolated there, but here your mood was buoyed by the warm spirit that lit up each face you passed with a genuine expression. 

Mando stopped near the doorway of a round, sandy building on the edge of the town square. Despite the darkness of the clover-shaped entrance, you could still see the faint outlines of desks and hear the sound of excited children talking over each other. A tall man draped with a regal–looking cloak leaned against the school’s wall next to an imposing, muscular woman. His face brightened as Mando approached– something rather unusual, considering that most people were terrified that he’d been sent to capture them. 

“Karga,” the beskar-clad man in front of you acknowledged with a dip of his helmet. 

“Ah, that’s Magistrate Karga to you, Mando!” The dark-skinned man boomed jovially, stepping forward. “Things have changed since your last visit,” he continued. “Nevarro isn’t just a dusty pit stop anymore.” He spread his arm wide, gesturing to the bustling town square, and you privately agreed with his assessment. 

Mando gave a short nod, then shifted the conversation to more important matters. “Where’s the kid?”

“He should be finishing school any moment now–” Karga was interrupted by your excited gasp. 

“Hi, bug!” 

You stepped out from the tall Mandalorian’s shadow, beaming down at the little brown bundle speed-waddling towards you. You crouched down to his height and opened your arms, laughing at his excited babbling. “Yeah, I missed you too.” You were completely sincere, despite the teasing tone of your voice. The kid’s antics brought a lightness to your life that you didn’t know you needed until he came along. 

“Mando, you didn’t tell me you brought a friend!” Karga exclaimed, eyebrows raised high on his forehead. “And such a lovely one at that,” he continued, bending with a dramatic flourish of a bow. “Now you don’t have to call me Magistrate, just Greef will do,” he winked.

You were pretty sure Mando was rolling his eyes underneath his helmet, if his crossed arms were anything to go by, and you refrained from doing the same. You knew men like Karga back on Nath– charming and flirtatious, but only to the extent that it benefited their ambitions. You were more flattered by the thought that he’d deemed you important enough to impress than by his actual words. 

Still, you gave him a good-natured smile and introduced yourself as you bent down to pick up Grogu. “Your city is beautiful, I’ve never seen anything like it,” you complimented the Magistrate, holding in a laugh at the way his chest puffed up. 

“So how’d someone like you wind up with him?” The muscular woman beside him asked with blunt honesty, cocking her head towards the Mandalorian. She crossed her leather-bound arms, clearly interested in your response.

“Oh, I’m Grogu’s–” you paused, looking over at Mando as you tried to think of the right descriptor. You hadn’t exactly discussed job titles in the twelve hours you’d been employed by him, and you didn’t want to accidentally offend him by implying the wrong level of familiarity. And it wasn’t like you could just tell them you’d knocked his shiny butt into a snowbank, beginning a beautiful friendship of riding rainbow Mythosaurs into the sunset and exploding the occasional Tradoshan and/or cantina along the way. Although… the idea was rather tempting, if only to see how Mando would react.

“Caretaker,” the armored man finished for you, and you sent him a grateful look. The muscular woman next to him smirked, appraising you before extending her hand. 

“Cara Dune. Ex-Rebel-shocktrooper, current Marshal of Nevarro,” she introduced herself with a wink. You instantly liked her, despite the intimidating aura she exuded. Her frankness appealed to you— it was a welcome reprieve from the icy insincerity Nath’s citizens wrapped their hearts in, tighter than their winter cloaks. 

Karga rubbed his hands together eagerly. “Well now, Mando, we have some business to discuss. Marshal Dune will show your friend to the market, if you wouldn’t mind coming with me,” he spoke, gesturing to the tall, sloped capitol at the forefront of the plaza.

Mando remained where he stood, helmet tilting towards you. “Get her to the medcenter first. Have them take care of her face before anything else.” He instructed the Marshal. You winced as the unsightly gash across your cheekbone twinged, a reminder of why you were here in the first place. 

“Hmm. What’s in it for me?” She cocked an eyebrow at the armored man. “I’m a busy woman these days, I can’t always be making detours…”

“Dune,” he warned, tone supremely unimpressed. 

The dark-haired woman’s smug grin widened. “Yes, sir,” she spoke, raising her arm in a mockery of a salute. “Didn’t realize it was that serious.” She nudged your arm, giving you a knowing once-over as she walked past the beskar-plated man. “Alright, then. Medcenter it is.”

You turned to leave with her, but the cool press of beskar on your forearm paused you in your tracks. You angled your head up to meet Mando’s gaze– or at least, where you assumed his eyes were beneath the beskar– with a questioning look. He tilted his head toward the bustling streets and pressed a handful of credits into your palm. 

“Get whatever you need. We won’t be stopping at another market for a few weeks,” he instructed, and you nodded gratefully as you tucked them into a secure pocket of your tunic.

Suddenly, Grogu cooed, grabbing for the remaining credits glistening at the top of the pouch that hung from Mando’s belt. His unexpected movement caused you to stumble forward, just barely catching yourself as he slipped out of your arms. You frantically tried to regain your clutch on the child before he could scamper away, but Mando had already beaten you to it, holding him firmly in place on the cobblestone road.

To your surprise, the armored man crouched down and fixed his son with a rather intimidating head tilt. “Hey. Don’t do that again,” he warned the green toddler, who blinked up at him with guileless eyes. “You’re going to behave for her,” he reminded Grogu sternly. “Or no coloring book.” 

That did the trick. Grogu immediately turned to you, lower lip trembling and arms outstretched in repentance. You raised an eyebrow, but allowed him to climb back up into your embrace. Your mouth quirked to the side as you looked back up at Mando. 

“You still have the coloring book?” You asked, eyes crinkled with surprise. 

The Mandalorian scoffed. “It’s a miracle Karga was able to wrestle it from him before school.” 

Your lips curved into a delighted smile, pleased that you’d judged the kid’s artistic interest correctly. You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Well, I’m excited to see what he’s made,” you grinned up at the beskar-covered man. Your gaze lingered on him for a moment, watching the desert sun flicker across his helmet as Grogu nestled into your arms.

“Hey! You coming or what?” Both of your heads snapped to where Cara was standing at the end of the road, hands on her hips and a curious look on her face. You stammered out a sheepish apology and raced over, but when the Marshal’s attention was diverted, you couldn’t resist looking back at the silhouette of the armored man. You gave him a tiny wave, holding in a giggle at the way Grogu mimicked your action. 

The Mandalorian raised his gloved hand, subtly returning the gesture. You spun back to the street with a hidden smile.

***

As promised, Cara led you to the medcenter, where you waited for a nurse droid to patch your face up with a bacta kit. The building was unlike any you’d ever been in; light shone through stained–glass skylights onto the woven cushions where prospective patients rested, the scent of cinnamon and sanitizing solutions mixing to form an odd but not entirely unpleasant aroma in the air. 

“So, what’s the deal with you and Mando?”

“What?” Your confused expression made her lean back on her cushion with a lighthearted scoff. 

“Oh, come on. He doesn’t let just anybody stay around his kid. I had to fight off a damn Imperial invasion to get him to trust me,” she muttered, eyeing you. You blinked in surprise, then remembered that she’d been a Shocktrooper before Nevarro. Of course Mando would need someone with those terrifying skills in his line of work.

“So what’d you have to do? Rescue another alien child? Blow up a prison?”

“Something like that,” you muttered, letting Grogu toy with your fingers. The cantina wasn’t a prison, but explosives were definitely involved. You figured you were dancing on the right side of the truth.

Cara shook her head in mock exasperation. “Mandalorians. Always gotta be something with them.” She grinned, all teeth. “Good thing I like demolition.” 

You shot her a wry grin, opening your mouth to ask her how she’d wound up on Nevarro. Unfortunately, the droid chose that moment to spray you straight in the eyes with aerosolized sanitizer. You yelped in pain, scrambling to direct its robotic arm to the right location before you wound up needing bacta for more than one spot on your face. 

Once you’d finally gotten the droid under control and your treatment grudgingly paid for, you headed out to the market with directions from Cara– all previous questions forgotten in the stinging wake of the sanitizer. You’d parted with a promise to return with stories about your travels with Mando and the kid. Mostly, she wanted to know if there was any exciting conflict in the center of the galaxy that she could jump into. You had a feeling she wouldn’t stay as Nevarro’s Marshal for too long; you recognized the thirst for adventure that gleamed in her eyes all too well. 

Your time in the market was far too short, even though you’d spent the better part of a day there. You’d happily wandered through the streets, wonder etched into the lines of your face at the sheer variety of wares hawked at every turn. You’d trained yourself to be frugal, determined to buy only the essentials and save the rest for your future travels, but here even the barest necessities were crafted with care. 

Sweet, earthy jasmine soap that surrounded you with a peaceful aroma; impossibly soft textiles that shimmered enticingly in the sun; bittersweet fruit that melted into a soothing wave of liquid in your mouth. Nevarro was a land of plenty indeed, you mused as you pored over a vendor’s towering collection of cheese. 

You returned to the school as the sun sunk beneath the horizon, a drowsy green child on one arm and a basket of supplies on the other. You said your goodbyes to Karga and left, Mando’s bounty belt now four pucks heavier. The two of you ambled back to the ship in peaceful silence, Grogu asleep in your arms and the soft glow of the night lanterns glimmering on curved beskar. 

Unbeknownst to the bounty hunter, a tiny jar of dried nari peppers rested in your back pocket. It’d taken you ages to choose from the tables of spicy seasonings, but you finally decided on this one despite its exorbitant price. You planned to surprise him with it on some sort of special occasion– maybe a birthday, or a holiday. It had been too long since you’d had cause to celebrate anything, really, and you were determined to seize any little chance you could. Hm. Did either of your new roommates even have birthdays? You’d have to wrest that information out of Mando eventually. But for now, you were content to just walk next to him in the moonlight, city hubbub fading away into the quiet whisper of the sand.

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read on: part iv

[saphirered]

I saw that your requests were open and because i loved the last one i sent in here's another one.

I hope this is good with the rules, if i need to explain something about it you can hit me up via messages.

This basically plays in the last episode of Critical Roles Vox Machina. Where Vax goes with the Raven Queen to become the next Champion Of the Ravens. Instead of Keyleth being Vax's lover how about it's the Reader they say good bye and years in the future the reader is on their deathbed and sees Ravens around them before Passing and Seeing Vax again.

I just want some Hurt Comfort because I've been crying my eyes out over the last Episode after watching through VM again.

Hurt/comfort it is! Thank you for requesting and hope you enjoy! 😘

He knew this day would come. The Matron of Ravens had given him the gift of a goodbye. He didn’t know whether to curse or bless her for it. Not when Vax saw your face, the tears you held back, the way you bit the inside of your cheek to keep your lips from trembling, and the tightening of your throat. It’s heart wrenching. Worse. Because he knows if he goes- no when he goes he leaves behind his heart. It belongs with you. It’ll always belong with you. The further out of your reach he is, the more he feels he’ll lose himself, lose sight of who he used to be in the mess that is this divine game of chess that goes beyond even the heroes of Tal’dorei. Never did he think he’d be able to love someone so much as you. When he flies you give him a reason to return to the ground, to remind him of the world around him but once he’s gone, once you’re just out of reach, what then? Will he be flying until he can no more? He needs you, and you can’t follow where he goes. 

You’ve been trying to stay strong. On the one side you hoped that battle never ended, that you’d forever spend those moments with him, that the raven bitch would never be able to lay claim to him for the bargain made. You hoped for a loophole, for some kind of justice in this world but you know you would find none. You did what you could with the time granted to you both. You don’t know what’s worse; knowing time would run out or having him suddenly torn away from you. You don’t want to find out. You feel as if you’re being left with the pieces, to reassemble the ones that’ll never again fully fit right and forever be out of place. You’ve had to make your peace with that together and you did, but that doesn’t make this hurt any less. 

Vax stands in front of you. The others have given you a moment, one moment for a final goodbye. You don’t know if you’ll ever see each other again. You simply don’t know. With a shaky breath he holds your hands in his, runs his thumb over the backs, still littered with the remaining signs of battle and conflict. He knows he will see you. He’ll keep an eye out whenever he can, should that goddess let his tether allow him to go that far, but you won’t know he’s there. His fear is perhaps one day he won’t even remember you but how could he forget the one that holds his heart, guards it for the rest of your life and beyond. It will always belong to you. He’ll always belong to you. He loves you. That is a simple truth not even a goddess can change. 

“You have no idea how much I love you.” His voice cracks as he speaks and he watches the silent tears collect in your eyes. You squeeze your eyes shut. The tears spill and you hold on tighter; a grip that grounds him to this earth and reminds him this is real. 

“Why must it hurt so much?” You manage to speak as you open your eyes once more. Vax brushes away your fallen tears. He takes a deep breath. 

“Because this was real. It’s unfair but it’s really. And long after I’m gone, it’ll still be real. I’ll love you to the end of these worlds and beyond. Even when I’m not there to tell you. I want you to remember; I love you.” He carefully repeats those last three words with as much confidence and reassurance he can, despite the tears falling from his own eyes. He has not the care to wipe them away, or stop them for that matter. You take a deep breath and nod more to yourself than to him as if you’re reassuring yourself. You cup his cheeks, following each mark and feature as if committing them to memory, as if you’d forget them. 

“I’ll love you through this world and the next, until they come falling apart. I’ll love you and in my heart I know we will meet again. One day, I promise you, we will meet again  and when that day comes, I will never let you go.” You have never made a vow more true in your life. Vax knows it too. Not even his mind can counter the implications of those words. They are a simple fact. Though he wishes he hopes, he feels as if hope is not involved in this matter at all. Not when you made this vow. You will keep it. He is unsure if it’ll hurt him beyond measure, or if it is another blessing, to see you one last time, to know he’ll see you, and be reminded of his heart. 

“You are my heart.” He guides one of your hands to his chest. “Forever it is yours.” 

“And I will keep it safe. For as long as you keep mine.” You entwine your fingers with his and gently lean in. Your lips meet his in a soft kiss; one of intent and one binding like a true promise, like a bargain struck or a deal made. He’ll make any deal when it comes to you. He’ll offer up all he has to bargain with, for you. Even though he has nothing left but you and the memories of you and those he will not part with. He belongs with you as you belong with him. Whether it be a decade or a century, he will wait an eternity if he must. 

When you finally part, and he steps away, into the embrace of raven feathers you weep your silent tears, as does he, as do your friends. Vax knows you’ll be in good hands. You’ll have them. He’ll watch over you, he’ll watch over you all and be your guardian. You will find him in the feathers of the raven’s black, and the wings upon the wind. You will find him in the knife sharp and the kindness of heart. You will carry him with you always. Your paths will cross again even if it will be in pain and heartache. 

————

Many years have passed. They in and of themselves seem like an eternity, no matter the happiness shared, a part is always missing. You have seen your friends find love and happiness and build their families, achieve greatness and change the world. You’re happy for them and happy to be part of their lives, you’re happy to be part of that change. Change comes with risks. And the world changes fast. Enemies rise and fall but the larger underlying schemes and plots reveal themselves slowly, centuries in the making. Not all are enemies that can just be fought, or at least not without consequence and risk. New heroes rise. Their era has come and they must shape this world into the next, to leave it better than they found it. You intend to keep that circle going. Fight today for a better tomorrow. Your friends do too but they cannot afford to make the same sacrifices they might have made in the past. They have other paths now. You would not let Vex and Percy leave their children orphaned or abandoned like they were. You would not send a people into chaos through the loss of the Voice of the Tempest. 

You would not let the closest of friends lose each other. You are part of that too. Should any of you fall, you would be mourned but as opposed to you they choose to live lives outside of adventure and the looming risk of death at every corner. It was no surprise for you, to do these things, to live this life, and compared to them the only thing you had to lose was them, the only thing they had to lose was you. Should you meet your demise you know it might affect them, hurt them even but they could live on. You would not stand in the way of their happiness and you could meet your end peacefully and fulfilled you’d have done everything in your power to make this world a better place for them. That is your legacy, your life and your promise because no matter what, you know where your promise leads. 

And that day finally comes. With enemies grown too bold, you joined the forces that fought against them. Another end to the world as you know it will not serve anyone well. They are willing to shed the blood of many to achieve this godless world, but that is not a price you’re willing to pay. You fought them, proved to be a liability and when that cut of magic hit you, that final blow, when your vision faded on the colour of pale silvery blonde and a cold stare, you knew the end would be there. You delivered one final blow. You managed to give an opportunity to those who needed it. Your life bought them time and you hope it is enough for their road to success. You have paved it, now they must take over. You have done your part. 

And as you lay there on the ground among the rubble and ashes, among the chaos, you do not feel the pain, you do not hear the noise or see the sky. You see the creeping darkness, hear the muffled words over the beat of wings. You feel a cold touch reach for you, caress your cheek. 

“I’m sorry it had to end like this. I wish you could have said your goodbyes.” You know that voice. You’ve not heard it in decades but you know it well. Despite the fact you take your last breath, you feel more alive than you have in a long time. You see the golden strand that connects you to the feathered half-elf above you. Your fingers wrap around his wrist and for the first time you feel him, you feel his touch and he feels yours. 

“So do I.” You breathe and expect the ache in your chest but find none. There is no pain in your heart and you feel as if you’re floating. You sit up as he kneels beside you and it takes you some time to realise you’re not among rubble and ruin but instead find yourself on the black marble hall of a place you have only ever been able to imagine; every bit as macabre as it is beautiful. 

He sees you, truly sees you. He touches you, to remind himself this is not some sort of dream, that you are real and this is true. His heart aches for the first time in decades and while he does not particularly likes the feeling he remembers you and for you he’ll endure. You brought his heart back to him and despite the circumstances he is glad to be the one to receive you here. He doesn’t know what comes next, he doesn’t know if you’ll be able to stay of if you’ll move on but for now you have this. You share this and this is real. He has changed and so have you. You are still as beautiful as he remembers you, still as bright as he has seen you and despite your previous pain you smile. You cup his cheek and press your lips against his as if not a moment has passed. All these years he’s felt so dead, and all it took to be reminded of what life was like was for you to show him. He won’t let you go this time around and he dares bet you won’t let him slip between the cracks either. 

[tavyliasin]

BG3 FicFeb NSFW - Day 8

This one was a little fun, more suggestive than full action smut but I spoiled you with a longer piece yesterday and still have my Baldur's Date piece to write~ As Tav has tried a great many things, and keeps none of them secret from Astarion as she shares her diary with him as they agreed, there's little he doesn't know about what she wants. But there is one thing she has been loathe to admit out loud... CWs and Tags here are pretty tame~ Voice kink, blindfold use, and a slight hint of power play, praise kink, and a lot of teasing.

Smut below the cut! ----- -----

Day 8 - Tav/Durge Explores A Secret Kink With Their LI

Tav was laying back against Astarion’s chest, his legs either side of her hips and his arms draped loosely around her shoulders, as comfortable as a familiar blanket, a deep feeling of warmth and safety in the embrace. In his hands he held a book they had borrowed from Gale, his head resting against hers. She was the faster reader of the two, so it was little need for him to ask when to turn the pages and continue. The moment of peace was well earned, claiming the room in the Elfsong Tavern for nothing more than a chance to rest while the others sought their own entertainment. Or at least, that was their plan.

“This is ridiculous,” Astarion complained, a hint of amusement in his voice, “a sword like hers would not be able to cut through the thick hide of a fully grown owlbear in one swing. My darling, I am getting the distinct impression the author has not been in a single real fight in his life.” 

Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice, much as she tried to ignore it. “Well, you can’t expect everyone to have the kinds of adventures we’ve had, can you?” A little thought occurred to her in that moment, born of the blush creeping unbidden up her neck at the sound of his quiet laugh close beside her ear. “Maybe you should change the story a little. Read it to me, won’t you? My eyes grow so weary of staring at the pages~”

“Such theatrics, my love,” he kissed her quickly warming cheek as he relented, “very well, now where were we?” 

“The brave heroine took down the foul beast-”

“Of course… So, the body of the creature fell at her feet as her breasts heaved from the effort.” He hummed quietly in thought, the feeling vibrating from his chest to her back. “Do they really heave? Well. Moving on.”  

—

Astarion continued reading, his voice soft by Tav’s ear, noticing with a hidden smile how her body was growing warmer without a single touch, her head leaning back more onto his shoulder and her eyes fluttering closed. 

Perfect, he thought to himself with a devious idea, now she will have no idea when I change the story…

He was subtle at first, changing a few lines to a slightly more seductive context, taking note of how she reacted. Then he began to lower the book, freeing his hand to caress her soft skin, almost surprised to note just how hot and flush she felt. 

“Should I stop reading now, darling?” He kissed her ear softly, a pleased shudder through her back palpable against his chest.

“Please don’t,” she whispered, “I…like hearing your voice.” 

“Next time I will have to ask for one of his more lewd novels then, if you enjoy those stories more~” The last words came with a slight growl, earning a small gasp from her parted lips.

“It isn’t that,” even her breathing was quickened, “you could be reading the most boring treatise on the proper use of illusion magic and I would feel the same…”

“You have some very strange taste in erotic literature, love~” He continued to speak soft and low, putting more playfulness into the tone, relishing how her body would subtly move of its own accord.

“I…” She paused, as if embarrassed to go on.

“Tell me, my love,” he kissed along the edge of her ear again, a few teasing bites with sharp yet gentle teeth. “What is it you desire? I have read all of your exploits in the diary we share, and played my part in many. Nothing you could reveal would make me think less of you.” 

“Your voice…” She moaned as he continued to tease her with the slightest touch. “I…really love the sound of your voice.” 

“Why didn’t you say so sooner, darling? That is an easy wish to grant you…” He stroked her hair softly before bringing his hand over her eyes. “Shall I take your vision from you, so you can hear me more clearly?”

—

Tav couldn’t stop the moan from slipping out into the quiet room. “Please, Astarion-” 

“Then hold still, love, I will give you everything you want.” He reached over to grab a small dagger he kept in easy reach even now - old habits die hard after all - and cut away the silken cover of a nearby cushion. 

The fabric strip easily covered her eyes, blocking out the remaining light. The removal of one sense had the tendency to heighten the others temporarily, and she felt the truth in that with every word. 

“Now, not a word from you, but there is no need to stay silent…let me hear how I make you feel~” Astarion’s voice melted through her, soft as velvet, long practised seduction this time without any false promises. 

She nodded, just a small sound with it not finding a full syllable on her tongue.

“Good, darling, just like that.” He purred, wrapping his arms around her waist and caressing the line of her hip. “Your body is astonishing, how just a few words can have you squirming against me without so much as a kiss upon your soft lips.”

As he spoke, Tav’s body responded again, without any input from her will. His fingertips found her wrist, trailing up to her elbow.

“Such strength and skill, and yet all it takes is a little talk and you’re already melting into me.” His teasing was infuriating. “Should I continue telling you everything I love about your body, how you moan so sweetly for me, how I want nothing more than to rip off your clothes right now and taste every part of you…”

Tav nearly stopped breathing, already feeling the depth of her lust pooling deep in her stomach, every muscle in her body coiled tense like a spring…

“Or shall I make good on that promise, and keep talking while I do it?” His hands drifted away from their soft caressing, depriving her of any touch but his body against her back and his lips on her neck.

“Please…anything, just so long as I can hear you.” She begged, forgetting the one instruction that she had been given.

“Naughty little darling,” he purred with an edge of seductive threat, “but I will forgive you this once.”

Tav felt him press a line of kisses from her neck to her ear, directing the power of his voice to the very centre of her desire.

“Truth be told, love, your own voice can have a similar effect on me when I hear you beg so very beautifully for my affections~”

[blueikeproductions]

Welp EarthSpark is officially done in Japan via the latest Figure King magazine.

Sorta rubs the Nucleon in the Energon wound that the news of cancellation comes in a magazine celebrating 40 years of Transformers, with a cover drawn by the Kiss Players guy no less, huh?

It’s also looking more apparent EarthSpark is finito in the States too. And some staff of the show are looking to blame fans for being the b-word and the p-word. Look fella, those words lost meaning just as much as “woke” did, just take your lumps like the rest of us and admit your show didn’t work because people simply had no interest in it. Also just terrible, TERRIBLE writing and pacing. I can forgive Rise of the TMNT’s faults due to Nick not knowing what to do with it and giving the staff unhelpful feedback that kept changing it (the Netflix movie finale was a much better look at what the show was trying to be and could’ve been, but alas), but EarthSpark I have no such compunction.

Hasbro was allegedly pretty hands off and was fine with what they were doing (at least at first) so the blame can only land on the writers who clearly misunderstood what they had. I detest modern shows that have uneven pacing, tone and characterization. It’s why I don’t look fondly on Adventure Time the moment it stopped being a goofy kids show and started being some college art student’s angsty wet dream.

Clearly something changed for EarthSpark internally, and I can’t help but think Hasbro and Paramount looked at the abysmal launch of the first batch of episodes and told the staff to drastically change the story for S2. That the trailer is a more traditional Autobots vs Decepticon conflict with them hunting for Emberstone pieces ala Transformers Animated and most importantly having evil Decepticon Terrans (something fans had stated as happening in some form from the start), shows they wanted to make this into a better boy brand thing again.

The first season overcompensates by focusing too heavily on the female cast, most of them bordering on obnoxious, while making most of the male characters into morons, again Robbie dying for contrived reasons but the Maltos instead choose to love up Mo while Robbie lays there clinging to whatever life force he has left at that moment.

Instead Robbie seems to be the primary focus, with a b-plot about him having a crush on someone. I’m guessing this is where the rumors saying Hashtag comes out as gay comes from as I suspect Hashtag remarks on Robbie’s female crush being adorable and tries to be his wingman (with probably the same results when she tried helping Jawbreaker).

I feel like the intention may have been to have Mo be the focus of S1 and Robbie for S2, but it doesn’t fully come off that way as the focus is too rambling on top of trying to focus on the Terrans and Bumblebee in an RiD15 style role again.

Also what the slag is this?

If there’s one thing I hate more it’s lazy photoshopping.

Not only do they just swap Bee and Prime’s renders around, they just crudely put the kids heads on these altered bodies from their preexisting stock art… Like no Quintessons or Terracons or nothing. Nothing to make you more legitimately excited for something new. Just the same Autobots and the kids in ReBoot Guardian Code suits, ick. It’s a bit of a downgrade compared to the Prime Apex Armor suits the toys use.

Despite the cancellation, the Japanese magazine refers to a “Slash Malt”(o). Presumably this might be a Terran version of the Dinobot Slash, whose only proper media presence has been a minor cameo in Japanese manga as the kid sister of the Dinobots and a supporting role in Rescue Bots Academy.

Frankly becoming a Terran might be the best thing for Slash, and it’s something I’m surprised toy wise wasn’t attempted anyway with characters like Lightbright, Lickity Split, Rubble, Gauge, Nightscream, and others.

So once again, what comes next? We don’t know still as of typing. Skybound is still knocking it out of the park with its Energon Universe, with the Joe portion moving on to Destro and Scarlett after having wrapped up Cobra Commander’s miniseries. Of note on Destro is the possibility MASK might be getting another go again, as what appears to be Miles Mayhem, the leader of the villainous VENOM faction, makes an appearance. The MASK and VENOM teams tend to be depicted as off shoots of Joe and Cobra in modern material, and with the pitch of the EU mentioning Energon being able to power machines, the transforming vehicles might be among the first specially designed vehicles developed to combat the Decepticons… Especially since Destro took interest in the idea of a transforming jet when he learned of Starscream.

The next cartoon is being worked on now, but we don’t know yet what it is. The easiest assumption is it’s a spin off of TFONE like how Mutant Mayhem has Tales of the TMNT, but it may be something else altogether. Barring anything TFONE does, EarthSpark was the last hold out of IDW’s post war ideas, and with Autobot Megatron mark II being viewed like this:

I think Autobot Megatron is largely done as a concept and with how merciless Skybound Megs is shown to be (though interestingly he did spare some Cobra-La guys when they told him what he wanted to know after stepping on one), I think we’re gonna be back to a traditional Megatron.

People are still not really feeling TFONE via recent upload on a TF fan convention YouTube channel, calling it terrible and cringey, so at this point I’m honestly just writing it off now (even though I’ll personally like it fine like the new Garfield Movie).

I stand by a new TF anime with a fun Mini-Con like gimmick built in the story is the way to go, because this incessant need to reject its toyetic roots is aggravating. At this stage I say let Skybound do the comics, and let Japan handle the cartoon, because clearly most people working now can’t write a decent TF cartoon without getting out of their sanctimonious way.

It’s time to Transform and Rise Up from this nonsense, and hopefully One helps with that more, but atm it’s all on Skybound until the next cartoon is ready. No pressure.

[14dayswithyou]

Reddie: I can’t help but imagine living with you years from now.

Teva: Please don’t let this be temporary.

Soft spot prompts | No longer accepting !!

Born to say "💗💖💕💗I love Reddie💕💖💗💕"... forced to say "I enjoy Teo"....... T_T /j

Under a "read more" because I wrote a whole novel????? teehee

001.

"Yeah? We livin' in a Hot Topic store together?"

While it was meant in jest, the dark-haired man couldn't stop his mind from drifting to bittersweet thoughts of 'what if...?'.

Bitter, because it was impossible to think that Eddie would ever find the man tolerable — let alone interesting enough to stick around for. And sweet, because despite it all, anything that had to do with Eddie always manages to pull at his heartstrings and make him stumble over his words.

I can imagine it too, Ren thinks, easily imagining the two of them in a quaint house near the city. Close enough for Eddie to visit his twin whenever he'd like, but far enough away from all the fucked up memories that haunted them both. Besides, Ren never needed anything in that hellscape of a place anyways. He already found his home in Eddie.

But the words that left his mouth were something entirely different.

"It's not a bad idea, the Hot Topic thing." He turns away then, though his pinky doesn't stray far from Ed's. "Maybe it'll stop me from borrowing your jackets all the damn time."

Liar. He liked the smell of Eddie too much.

002.

He's on his phone again, doing everything he can to distract himself from the woman currently occupying the right side of his bed. It was hard to ignore the way Diva's manicured nails idly traced over his snake tattoo, but it was even harder to ignore the fact that he felt a million miles away from her in that moment.

And it was all his fault.

What started as a casual hookup soon turned sour. It was only supposed to be a one-off thing; he'd treat her to dinner, bed her, and then leave the next morning — and Diva knew that too. But somehow... Something changed along the way. He started paying attention to her; seeing her in places where he shouldn't. Lipgloss stains on his pillows. Glitter on his shirts. Marks on his chest. Green press-on nails in his car. Eyebags from staying up all night texting her. A void in his heart that only seemed to fill whenever she was around.

Teo was getting attached to Diva and he knew it. He wasn't one to get feelings involved, yet he could do little to ignore the burning sting of envy whenever he'd listen to Diva talk about someone else.

When she slowly started to turn into someone else.

Green nails that were now purple. A custom Luis Vuitton bag that was switched out for a Hello Kitty ita backpack instead. A blurry lockscreen of his shadow now replaced by a carefully made art piece in her likeness. Her most recent texts going from T💚 to KK💜.

With a sigh, Teo finally acknowledges Diva's presence. He doesn't dare look at her, knowing fully well that she'd be sporting those soft, sparkly eyes that he just can't seem to say 'no' to. And so, he throws his phone somewhere on the bedside table and leans in close enough to press a kiss against her jaw — but not before pulling away with cold eyes and an even colder heart.

"It was never permanent in the first place, was it?"