#i drew this a while ago hope y'all will still like it :')

[penelope-kat]

Hello funny gay people in my computer please accept this offering as a token of peace.

[little-diable]

I won't share you – James Beaufort (smut)

Y'all voted for this fic, so I hope you'll show it some love. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader is Lydia's best friend, but that hasn't stopped her and James from starting their fling–a fling that turns into something more the second his jealousy gets the best of James.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, shower smut, jealousy, best friend's brother

Pairing: James Beaufort x fem!reader (2.6k words)

“I hate this so much, and to think they’re only friends with me because of him.” Lydia kept rambling, words (y/n) barely paid attention to. For the past minutes, Lydia had recited her conversations with other friends, picking up on their crush on her twin brother, James. (Y/n) had tried to show compassion, had tried to tell Lydia that the girls weren’t just around because of James–all while hiding her own secret.

Hours ago she had been pressed against his chest, choking on his name while he buried himself deep inside of her. Her fingernails had left scratch marks on James’ back, barely remembering how they had ended up beneath tangled sheets the first time months ago.

It was a simple deal, they kept fooling around with one another while keeping it a secret from everybody. In the beginning she had felt guilty, knowing that her best friend would detest her for doing this behind her back. But while (y/n) had tried to reason with her guilt, her heart had gained the upper hand, reminding her of the crush she had never been able to shake, ever since they had met years ago. It was pathetic almost, how she crushed on a man who only turned towards her whenever he was in the mood for a quick lay.

“Anyway, you’ll come tonight, right? I need you there especially with this mess going on.” Lydia’s words ripped (y/n) out of her wandering thoughts. For a moment, she pondered over the question, wondering if she wanted to go to another party where she’d cross paths with James who’d find a new girl to flirt with in front of the others. But the pleading gaze Lydia shot her drew a tired sigh from (y/n), forcing her to nod her head.

“Of course I’ll be there, I promise.”

……

She shouldn’t have come. She should have stayed at home where her sheets still smelled of James’ expensive cologne. She should have stayed in her room where her memories allowed her to get lost in another daydream. Anywhere but here would be better for her mind and soul while (y/n) desperately tried to rip her eyes off his frame, away from the unbuttoned shirt that exposed his perfectly chiseled abs. 

Lydia had disappeared from her side a while ago, blending in with the others while greeting those she had whined about only hours ago. (Y/n) had tried to hold onto her best friend–though without any luck, forced to part ways as her gaze was glued to James who hadn’t looked at her once so far. 

Perhaps she should have left, disappearing without another word to make it back to the safety of her room. But her feet didn’t listen to her mind’s commands, guiding her towards the kitchen to find something strong she could use to silence her racing thoughts. 

Music was ringing in her ears, filling her body like a drug that whispered to her, begging her to stay for a little while longer. She sipped on her drink while her eyes wandered around the room filled with people she barely knew, catching the gaze of a guy who was already looking at her. He was handsome, tall enough to stand out, sporting dark hair and bright eyes that surely did their job with wooing girls who crossed paths with him.

(Y/n) could only watch how he pushed past people to find his way towards her, greeting her with a raspy “Hey” she barely picked up on. A soft smile began to widen on her lips as she intently studied him–he was cute, but he was no James Beaufort. 

“Wanna go outside? It’s too loud in here.” The guy didn’t wait for her reply. His warm hand found her wrist to gently guide her through the room and outside to the pool area. For a second, (y/n) thought that she had caught James’ gaze, finding the eyes she had last seen as he had fucked her in the early morning hours. But the moment had passed all too quickly, reminding her that James wouldn’t dare to even look at her at a place like this.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” She internally cringed at the nickname. With another sip of alcohol to guide the words off her lips, (y/n) tired to give herself a push. Perhaps this is what she needed, a nice enough distraction from the man she should finally let go of. Whatever fate was trying to tell her at that moment, she’d listen and follow the call. 

“It’s (y/n), what’s yours? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” The guy stepped closer as she spoke, letting his hands rest on her waist almost as if they were dancing to the loud music. She wasn't uncomfortable, and yet she found herself thinking of ways on how to get out of this situation. If there was one thing she wasn’t interested in it was finding another guy who’d use her for his own distraction. 

“Mark, a friend of mine brought me here and I must say, I’m quite happy he did so.” Mark shot her a bright smile that left (y/n) chuckling. But the sound got stuck in her throat the second his hand wandered from her waist to her cheek. Fuck, she needed to get away from this guy, no matter how sweet he seemed to be, this wasn’t what she needed.

But (y/n) didn’t get far with overthinking her next move. While Mark slowly tilted his head down to cross the distance between them, (y/n) was yanked out of his touch and pulled back against a broad muscular chest. 

“What the fuck man?” Mark’s loud voice managed to break (y/n) out of her dazy state. She had to blink a few times before she allowed her eyes to wander from Mark’s angry features towards an all too familiar face. 

“Fuck off.” James spat the words at the guy before he turned (y/n) around in his grasp. It seemed as if he was making sure that she was alright, that she hadn’t been touched against her will. But while she should have focused on all these details, (y/n) could only focus on the fact that this was the first time James was interacting with her in a setting like this.

“What’s your problem? We were just having a nice time, right, (y/n)?” Mark spoke up once again. She felt his hand on her arm, and the second he began to tug on her, she knew that this situation would end in total chaos. And then everything happened all too quickly. One second she was pulled from James’ grasp, the next she found herself losing her balance and falling into the pool. 

Her clothes clung to her body as she resurfaced, having to brush her wet hair out of her features before she got a clear sight once again. She didn’t hear the loud words the two guys shared, she could only see how they stood all too close–about to escalate into an ugly fight if nobody intervened. From the corner of her eye, she watched Lydia hastily approach with their friends, instantly forcing a sinking feeling to settle in her stomach. 

Slowly, (y/n) swam towards the edge, allowing the sounds to grow more prominent once again. James didn’t seem to spare his sister a single thought as he turned from Mark to focus on (y/n). Their eyes held contact as he reached his hands out for her to take, pulling her out of the pool and back into his chest. 

(Y/n) didn’t dare meet her friends' gazes as James guided her past the growing group with his arm wrapped around her waist. No words were shared between them as he guided her towards her car. She kept her eyes glued to his features, the tickling jaw muscles that indicated his anger, the bright pupils that were stormy–a sight that robbed all air from her burning lungs. 

James’ hand disappeared in the pocket of her wet jeans to pull her car keys free, wordlessly opening the door for her before he rounded the car and began driving back to her place. She wanted to speak up, wanted to ask him why he had interfered like that, but the anger oozing off him begged (y/n) to stay silent, at least for now. 

Darkness lingered in the car as James broke the speed limit, seemingly desperate to make it to her place to speak about whatever had happened. Her heart was racing in her chest, unable to slow down as she relived the past moments, the clear look of jealousy that had swam in his eyes, and the anger that made heat pool between her thighs. She could only hope that the conversation they’d have any moment now could clear some of the confusion she felt.

But even as they arrived at her home did James stay quiet. All he did was guide her inside, wearily almost as if he hadn’t been there numerous times before. She gave him a few moments to finally break the silence, wanting him to be the first to say whatever he was plagued by, but James kept quiet. 

“I need to get out of these clothes, I’ll take a quick shower.” He nodded at her words, deep in thought. Her heart was aching for him, wanting to reach out and touch him, but her mind lured her away, whispering to her that he had no right to act like that when he had been the one to keep his distance in public. 

Her eyes found her reflection in her bathroom mirror as she stepped out of her wet clothes. The confusion she felt was clear on her face, stretching itself through every part of her. A part of (y/n) had always hoped that he’d finally cross that line and interact with her around others. Something she could cling to with hope simmering if inside of her–hoping that perhaps something could blossom between them, turning them into something more sincere. But now that the lines had begun to blur, (y/n) found herself fearing what was laying ahead of her.

The hot water cascaded down her back as she found shelter in her shower. She didn’t hear James stepping into the room, didn’t hear his clothes dropping to the ground. A soft gasp left (y/n) the second he pressed himself against her back, letting his arms wrap around her from behind. James’ lips kissed the back of her neck, forcing goosebumps to rise on her body even though the water running down their limbs was all too warm by now. 

“I’m sorry.” She could tell that it pained him to apologise, knowing that it was one of the many things his father had never taught him. Her hand found his, interlacing their fingers while she silently begged him to keep on speaking, to explain to her why he had escalated like that. “Seeing you with him switched something inside of me, I got so angry at him but mainly at myself. I have been so fucking stupid.”

“Why?” It was nothing more than a whisper, a sound so small, (y/n) feared the water would swallow it wholly. James free hand began to wander down south, he stroked her soft skin, caressing every inch before finding her heat. Her heart picked up its beat, very well understanding what he was planning on doing. 

“Because you’re mine and it took me until today to understand it. I won’t share you with anybody else.” His slender fingers circled her pulsing bundle, leaving her gasping while tightening her grip on his hand. James’ warm breath teased the spot where her shoulder met her neck, it felt as if he tried to pull himself even closer, needing to feel every part he intended on owning. 

“Do you truly mean it? Because I also don’t want to share you with anybody else.” Her voice trembled, shaking as if she had been chased by him, about to trip over her own two feet. His fingers brushed through her slit, collecting drops of arousal before slowly pushing into her. (Y/n)’s moans filled the bathroom, echoing off the walls that knew their every secret, listening to their whispered conversations whenever they found shelter inside of here. 

“I mean it, you’re mine, (y/n).” Without another warning, he pulled his fingers away to turn her around in his grasp. Their lips met for a breathless kiss, drawing gritty sounds from them while allowing their bodies to guide them. Without breaking apart, James lifted her off her feet to pull her legs around his waist with her back pressed against the shower tiles. 

“Let me fuck you like you deserved to be fucked, baby.” The world could end, could stop in its rotation and be swallowed by darkness. The stars could fall from the sky and let people escalate into an unstoppable chaos. No matter what was about to happen, he wouldn’t let go of her, would only focus on (y/n) and the love growing between them. 

Her moan was all James needed to guide his cock towards her entrance, to disappear deep inside of her like he had done numerous times before. But even though he had fucked her for months now, this moment felt different, more sincere, more loving than anything both had experienced before. 

“I love you so much, James.” She sobbed the words against his lips, chasing them for another clashing kiss that could lure her into her end. James Beaufort was her end and her beginning, a love story she had always longed for. He was everything she needed, fulfilling the unspoken longings she had been too scared to admit. 

“I love you too, fuck, you’re perfect.” His body met hers with every ferocious thrust, set on pushing them closer together–the first time as a proper couple swearing to stick to one another’s side. The moment had something almost cheesy to it, something so loving they struggled to put it into words. 

Her walls fluttered around him, pulling James even closer with her eyes getting lost in his blue ones. It felt as if he kept every secret this world knew hidden in his pupils, harbouring them for whatever reason. She never wanted to stop looking at him, the one who held her heart in his hands as if it was his most prized possession.

With every thrust, he brushed against her swollen spot, making her see black dots in her vision. She was close, would let go all too soon, and yet she didn’t mind it, didn’t mind losing herself to James once again. Their eyes stayed connected as she came around his cock, choking on his name like a prayer leaving her lips. 

James gave it more thrusts to chase his high, forehead pressed against hers, arms flexing to tighten their grip on (y/n). She watched him fall apart with a heavy groan and his cum leaving its stain on her walls. A perfect mess neither of them ever wanted to part from. 

“You’re mine, never forget that, baby.”  

[fraugwinska]

I tried my hands on an Human!Alastor fic ;> It's still very different to write for Human Al, but I hope y'all like it ;> Special thanks to @hurthermore for beta-reading and encouraging me <3 This one's for you, love! !! NSFW - Heavy Smut Ahead, Minors DNI - 6k words !!

„You need technical assistance, sir?“

Alastor looked up from the papers on his desk, adjusting his glasses that slipped down the bridge of his nose. He didn't expect her to come in this late, or at all, not while he was still at the station. The curious little sound engineer that had started half a year ago was standing at his office entrance, hands in the pockets of her outrageous trousers. She was tiny, her small figure barely filled the door frame, even with her bulky tool bag that hung from her shoulders. Alastor leaned back in his seat, folding his hands, focusing his tired gaze on her defensive expression.

She was a novelty, that one. Not the first woman working at the station of course, but the first to assert herself in the male-dominated field of technical engineering. Her male colleagues saw the spunky, brass girl as a joke, either ignoring her or trying (very amateurishly) to bed her – both which didn't faze her at all meeting both scenarios with the same contemptuous indifference. The women – secretaries, errand girls and concierges – were much more organized and refined in their bullying. Shortly after her arrival rumors had already spread, one more abstruse than the other, and they had collectively decided to pretend the engineer didn't exist in their periphery. More than once he witnessed her talking to his own secretary Ruth, just to be left standing while Ruth got up and walked out with the other girls to lunch in the middle of her sentence.

The little engineer took it all in stride, though. Never complained, never became outright disrespect- or revengeful. Gradually, her expressions steeled, her answers shortened and her work hours shifted to evenings or nights, with less people to run into.

Alastor had been fascinated by her the moment they first met. He had just started his usual 'Saturday Golden Hour', his favorite and most popular segment to host, broadcasting the newest releases of jazz and swing in the evening, just before sundown. Not even ten minutes in, right after he started playing Bing Crosby's new song 'Dancing in the Dark', listeners started calling the station by the handful, complaining about horrific feedback's and sudden blackouts. While Alastor watched Rufus Ellis, the head of the tech team, frantically run around, yelling at his workers, the little engineer had wordlessly grabbed a few tools and vanished. Five minutes later, his broadcast went back to working perfectly, sound crisp and quality flawless once again. She had returned, put back the tools from where she had taken them, and when Ellis – flabbergasted – asked her what she had done, she had calmly explained that she went up on the roof to check the transmitters connected to the radio tower and fixed a broken generator that had malfunctioned due to some doves nesting in it.

No one thanked or even acknowledged her, they just shrugged and went back to business as usual. But Alastor didn't forget, and from this day he was determined to find out more about this extraordinary girl. She reminded him of his own struggle as the exception to the rule – it was a well-kept secret throughout the station exactly what Alastor looked like and who he was. That was the only reason he was able to do what he felt was born to, a cruel, unfair compromise. So, he felt an unusual sympathy for her, in addition to just his natural curiosity for oddities. However, he didn't expect her to be so elusive.

Whenever he tried to engage her in a conversation, she gave short, finite responses, avoided his eyes and hurried to get away from him, sometimes even bordering on rudeness in her haste to flee from him. Alastor was, to be frank, perplexed - his charm usually drew in the ladies unwantedly. That it had failed him now, with the little engineer, when he welcomed it for a change? Peculiar. To a degree, it angered him, but it also awakened his hunting instinct, just not the one he was used to.

“I'm afraid so, dear.”, Alastor smiled, standing up. He rounded his desk, hands behind his back, and went to her side, looking down a t her. Granted, he was a tall man, but next to her, he felt almost gigantic, which satisfied him in a strange way. “I noticed my microphone was acting up today, and would like you to take a look at it, if you don't mind. Before it decides to give up on me mid-broadcast.”

“That's my job, sir.”, she just answered, eyes intensely staring at the carpet. Alastor's eyebrow twitched in slight aggravation. But he lead her to his booth, unlocking it to let her in. She went straight to his seat, dropping her tool bag next to it and started to pull his microphone to her to inspect it. He quietly closed the door, locking it discreetly – just as a precaution so she couldn't flee him again so easily, now that he finally had her in his vicinity.

Alastor walked over to her, leaning over her shoulder to watch her carefully taking the device apart. She startled when she saw him out of the corner of her eyes. “It may take a while, sir.”, she mumbled, an obvious attempt to make him leave. Alastor laughed. “I've got nowhere to be, dear, take your time.”, he said with a hint of mischievous delight. He heard her scoff, turning back to her work. There was a prolonged silence, her fiercely ignoring Alastor's quiet, content humming while her fingers picked apart and put together parts and cables. He used the time to analyze her appearance – her hair was smooth but more unkempt than for a girl her age – how old must she be? Twenty, maybe Twenty-one? Vanity surely wasn't a flaw of hers, she didn't wear much make-up and Alastor saw various faint, light scars on her arms and hands, little bookmarks of mishaps and failures of her chosen career – the sight of them sent a sick shiver down his spine. Given his... hobbies, he found twisted appeal in scarred skin, finding beauty in those white, shimmering lines where blood once dripped from. He roamed her supple, curved body – unlike the recent fad of skinny, androgynous frames she was built womanly, round and fleshy... how beautiful could he paint her with white streaks on this vast canvas, add some masterpieces of his own to the collection?

“Alright.”, she pulled him out of his thoughts, mounting the microphone back on it's flexible stand. “A few cables were starting to corrode, I've replaced them, it should work fine now.” Alastor grinned down at her, putting one of his hands on her shoulder. The first real contact. “What an efficient engineer you are, dear. Always coming to my rescue, I have yet to show my gratitude.” She didn't look up, didn't even acknowledge that he said something to her, just packing up the various things she had spread out for the repair. Now that was just rude.

“Hello? Is this thing on?”, Alastor strained himself to sound lighthearted as he knocked two times on her head, feeling the shivers of impatience rising. The engineer closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, shifting in his chair with furrowed brows. “I'm getting paid to do my job. I don't need anything else.” She attempted to stand up, but his hand, still resting on her shoulder, holds her in place. “If that's all, sir?”

“Now now, not to hasty. I'd think it's unlike you to leave work halfway done. Normally you are quite thorough, aren't you?” Alastor cooed, tilting his head at her. “My work is done.” she said, her voice now intense and a faint tint of red on her cheek and neck. My, there's the little ferocity he thought she'd lost at the job. “Why we haven't tested the thing, dear – How can I be sure it works properly?”

“Because I know what I'm doing.” She looked outright offended at the implied possibility that she failed the task he asked of her. He had to chuckle, such a childish reaction to something so innocent. Maybe it was because implications like these grated her thick skin, but Alastor had no problem with being the straw that breaks that camel's back. He was skilled in putting people back in their place, and with her, it would be much more entertaining and much less fatal than with his other... acquaintances. He decided to tickle this sleeping dragon just a bit more, with a funny little idea in mind.

“No one is infallible – especially when they are so young. No fault in that, dear, but I'd like to be sure.” Alastor swiftly grabbed her wrist, pulling her up to stand. Putting up no resistance, most likely because of sheer perplexity, he twirled her almost like in a dance, side-stepping to his chair, and sat down, pulling her onto his lap, locking her there by an arm wrapped around her waist. The look on her face was worth it's weight in gold – eyes wide, mouth agape in stunned shock, and tips of the ears reddened. Her hands grappled the armrests so forcefully her knuckles were as white as the scars on her arms, and within seconds of regaining her active conscience she squirmed against his body. “What... that's so... sir, please let me g...” “There you go, dear.”, Alastor ignored her babbling, using his free hand to put the headphones on her. Her pulse under her thin, clear skin drummed faster against him, it's heat felt like it could boil his own blood.

He grabbed his own microphone, swinging it up between their faces and leaned forward, chin resting on her shoulder and the grille brushing his lower lip. She stared, dumbstruck, a bead of sweat forming on her forehead. He chuckled against her cheek, leaning his mouth to the mic as he pushed the switch on the control panel up, and his rich, sultry baritone echoed in her headphones.

"How about it, darling, do you hear me?"

She breathed deeply, gulping, and her heart sped up even more. Alastor smiled devilishly against her soft skin, delighted and in awe by how far he got her worked up as she just nodded sharply.

"No soundrops, feedback or small interferences?", he hummed, his voice dripping sweet honey. She took a moment to answer. "N-no... everything seems alright."

"Lovely." He almost whispered, but she heard it crystal clear through the headphones. He let a low sigh and took off his glasses with one hand, slowly, teasingly, his nose tracing over her neck, as if it was coincidental, as if he'd never ever do such a thing intentionally, putting the accessory on the table next to him, eyes locking on the hazel ones of hers mirrored in them. "Although I wonder..." He pushed the mic nearer to her mouth, seeing a tremble running over her body. "... if the higher pitches might be a problem... You wouldn't mind help with that, would you?"

She stiffened up, barely daring to breathe, her skin erupting into goose flesh underneath his lips, he felt the impulse to press them against her, lick the salt and nervousness from it.

"Sir, I-I can't.."

He chuckled at her strained, whispering voice. How beautiful was her distress, so rich, so fragrant, almost strong enough for him to savor its essence without even needing to touch her.

"Then, may I assist you?", Alastor felt himself giddy with impish delight, his hands slowly trailing upwards from her waist to her bust, cupping her gently through the thin fabric. This made her wriggle again, a small, high pitched squeak leaving her lips that his microphone just amplified in glorious reverberations. Alastor chuckled darkly as she froze, neck burning red in deep embarrassment from the sound she heard from the headphones.

"Now we're talking. A wonderful first try. But let's see what else we can get out of you, darling. After all, we want to be thorough."

His hands palmed and kneaded the supple flesh through the cotton, feeling her squirm and tremble and the warmth of her bosom, imagining the blood rushing through her heart. How exquisite was she?

He could hear a small whimper as her head slightly lowered. Was she closing her eyes? He imagined it so. Imagined she'd shut her pretty eyes closed, furrow her brows in conflict as her legs pressed against each other in fruitless desperation. Her hands tightened on the armrest.

"You are so very quiet, dear. Why don't you relax and turn the volume up for me?"

With one of his hands he quickly loosened the two buttons that kept her blouse close and tugged at the collar to widen the neck hole, then slid under her brassier and gripped one breast with a tight squeeze. Alastor caught his breath as he realized just how sensitive and sweet the freckled skin under his fingertips was. Soft. Warm. So fragile... He would never have imagined this was hiding under her daily uniform, her sagging shoulders and loose jacket hiding those lovely features. Alastor felt a delightful spark crackle in his head and shoot up the nerves of his spine. His hunting instinct pulsed under the mask. But... with a slight delay, Alastor recognized it as a different type of hunger... one of the carnal and more depraved kind. Another novelty for him.

Alastor suddenly wondered what her lips tasted like, how soft and warm would they feel on his, her teeth biting, her tongue teasing him. How many ways could he break her - and could he do it quickly, with his bare hands, with his words alone maybe, or with his undisciplined arousal pushing against her rear-end through the fabric of his trousers? How often did she think of him? How did she think of him? Did she fear him, or dislike him even? He could hear her breathing hasten as he was trying to compose himself.

There was the devil's urge to just let himself go. To shove the equipment aside and tear those outrageously inadequate clothes away from her flesh, run his hands over the skin he didn't get to see yet, trace and map those scars of hers until they fade underneath his fingers. Mark her more thoroughly than any machine mishap ever could. Make her cry, moan, beg and whine under him until there was nothing left in her and this novel hunger was satisfied.

A wonderfully loud moan escaped her, a sweet, silky, vibrato sound of passion, that went right from Alastor's chest into his pelvis. She opened her eyes wide, pressing her hand firmly over her mouth, mortified at her own pleasure.

Oh, Alastor thought to himself, smiling mischievously as the shock of lustful rapture coursed through him, how easy it was for him to undo her. So unexplored, so fresh... "Do you wish to stop, darling?", he asked with a teasing pinch of her hardened nipple, which made her cry out and her other hand fly up and cover her mouth, too. She shook her head, her cheeks flushed and hot, eyes hazed with confused pleasure. He rubbed and teased the nipple gently in his palm, holding her close, making her struggle in defiant silence. The only sound was his gentle, patient humming.

But oh, she was breaking, crumbling like a stale beignet, and the noises his hand bullied out of her turned from hushed whimpers to barely muffled groans and cries for him, long and wanting 'Sir's and 'Oh's. She was melting under his palm. He grinned wickedly, his lower body hard and wanting against her as he put the microphone to his own lips again and spoke into it.

"Say it with your words, dear, should I stop? Or is it that you can't hear me?"

"Y-yes! I mean... No sir... d-don't... stop." There was a suppressed crack in her voice, and Alastor sighed with lust at her gasping affirmation, grinding against her plushy backside. He has found it amusing to push her limits, break through her thick skin and riddle her, like an ice pick cracking open a glacier. And now it would shatter her so gorgeously. "It's Alastor, darling." He whispered into the microphone with a dragging, sultry voice, his hand retreating from her breast, only to snake it's way to the hem of her pants. Her legs twitched, pushing together to futilely protect her modesty, but her body eagerly arched in a way that gave such easy way for his fingers to slip under the garments, feel and stroke the short, coarse hair, following it's trail, only to meet soft, silken and slippery wetness. A startled gasp escaped her and the only reason she didn't leap up was because Alastor kept his firm grip on her waist, pulling her tight against his throbbing erection. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, exposing her delicate throat as she whimpered, hands flying from her mouth to the armrests again, gripping so hard her fingernails dug into the hard wooden surface.

He tried to restrain himself but couldn't, he testily bit into the thin, soft flesh of her neck as his fingers found their way into her entrance and dipped deep in, coating his palm in generous wetness and crooking, exploring carefully, but with a patience even he was surprised at, eyes fixated on the taut fabric as he thrust into her in tandem with the waves her body undulated at the new sensation, her sweet taste on his tongue.

"S-Sir, please...", she groaned against his hand that still remained pressed over her lips, as if it could suppress the bliss Alastor wrought her into. He withdrew his hand for a moment, fingers wet, glistening and slick, as she was breathless, but she couldn't hide how her hips were chasing his retreating touch. He leaned into the microphone, barely lifting his mouth from her neck.

"Say my name, and I shall listen, little engineer."

She hesitated for just a heartbeat, before opening her eyes, hazily staring at the ceiling as Alastor patiently waited, his fingers drawing idle circles around the sweet pearl on her outer folds. She pressed her lips together for a second, seemingly mentally preparing herself, and then opened her mouth, to give in, to submit to him.

"...A-Alastor, please..."

"I like the sound of my name from your lips, darling." He almost purred in return and resumed his movements with added vigor and focus. He put down his head on her shoulder, nuzzling into the juncture of her throat, watching her reaction and every detail of how his hand worked her over with the rhythmic hump of his hips, forcing him to breathe harshly as he was starting to be deprived of blood. He had barely noticed it, how incredibly erotic and sinful this whole thing felt not just for her, but for him, too. Partly of course, because of the chase, the coaxing, the hunt to have her call and writhe for only him, not for any of these imbeciles that tried to get their pick with her, his ears pricked and eager to savor her wanton sounds... A surprising need to be connected, closer to her than anyone ever could be in her whole life, and it made him even giddy to know no man had touched her like he was doing now, taking her purity with ease and glee.

But there was another part, something he thought slumbered too deep within him to be ever awoken, a roaring fire in his guts as the alluring, delicious scent of her arousal assaulted him like a siren's song, lulling, cajoling him with sensual desires to drown in them, to abandon all else and indulge, to completely give in and surrender. It wasn't tactical, calculating or strategic, but wild and primal and primitive, and not at all as painful or awkward to him as he had always thought it'd be.

What a revelation a woman's body could be.

He almost missed her coming into his eagerly working hand - a sudden, full-body twitch that went through her spine, a whine in her voice that ended in a choked sound as her orgasm claimed her and washed her away in the torrent of rapture - eyes going wide as the air escaped her in a desperate cry, hands gripping his thigh and the chair's armrest so hard the nails left little scratches in the wood. He barely had time to notice it before her climax hit him like a truck - the convulsing of her inner walls, gripping and spasming tightly around his fingers as he slowed and stroke out her high.

This moment was pure madness in his veins - his head foggy and airy, like a drug, like a vicious new addiction he would do almost anything for. Her body went slack against him, and the only thing that held her upright was Alastor's arm still securely around her, still keeping her pressed onto his hard length, still pulsing for some release of his own. Alastor wanted more, already was plotting what his hands could be doing to her body next as she came down from her high and back to earth, the heat leaving her body slowly as the soundproofed air trapped within the booth hung heavy with her hot breath and the smell of her passion.

The first movement of hers, after having come undone so beautifully for and on him, was to lift up the headphones.

"Well then, little engineer.", he huffed into her ear, laughing with barely hidden delight. "What is your final assessment?"

"Your microphone works perfectly. J-just like I said it would." She was determined, if nothing else. And unbearably cute when she was defiant. Alastor simply adored a fiery spirit, even as he was already thirsting for more. He looked up, her sharp tone prickling his pride. He shot her a glare from the corner of his eyes, his usually calm smile tugging upward in a half smirk as she avoided his eyes. Oh, was she starting to have second thoughts about her tone towards him?

"I always admired your work ethics and knowledge, my dear, even though you eluded my attempts to give you your well-deserved recognition." The hand not occupied in playing with her still moist, delicate flesh lifted the arm that she had still buried in his thigh, brushing his fingers lightly over her knuckles as he brought it to his lips. She went still as a stone under his fingertips. "I asked myself, what would be the reason you ignored and evaded me for so long? Do you dislike me that much, little engineering girl?"

"No." It took her a moment, a little quiver in her voice, but it seemed like this was the first time in a long while that her answer was as blunt and truthful. He sighed contentedly, planting a soft kiss on her hand. "Quite the contrary, in fact."

His eyes snapped to her, narrowed. She still refused to look at him, still tense and obviously embarrassed, her free hand trembling on her lap. So it hadn't been animosity that made her behave so coldly towards him, not aversion that made her flee his presence and not prejudice that made her avoid their encounters but...

"Ah." Alastor chuckled softly at her awkward behavior, grinning delightedly at the revelation. "Of course."

Shyness was a curious thing, he thought, often misinterpreted as either prude modesty or cold antipathy. And it seemed Alastor had fallen for the latter interpretation - he would've been miffed at the thought if it hadn't brought her here, into his lap, and into his hands - alas, better late than never, he guessed. And there was still something to take care of.

"Well, since you're not running from me now..." His hand left hers and joined his other one in pulling the belt of her pants open, gently tugging on the metal buckle until the strap slipped free. "Let me finally show my gratitude in kind, for the lovely engineer and her marvelous work."

He loosened his tight grip on her, enough so that he could turn her to face him - for once, she glanced at him from under her lashes, not only out of bashfulness now - but he thought he saw something like cautious anticipation there, too. His grin became even wider as she kept his gaze, even if barely. A last stubborn act of shy rebellion - in another situation it would have enraged Alastor, but now, he was delightfully fascinated and challenged by her stubborn nature, by the unpredictability of her reactions even now, as she herself hooked her fingers under the hem of her pants and pushed them down over her shapely hips.

The last barrier of decency fell between them, revealing the full picture before him - there was her reddened face framed by cascading locks, eyes lowered in embarrassed defeat; Her stiffened nipples prominent on her perky, tight breasts; The damp patch of dark pubic hair that barely hid her glistening privates and the plush roundness of her thighs. And the whole body covered in tiny, white streaks, healed cuts and burns scattered in between her freckles. Oh, she would be delightful to ruin over and over again.

He took a step towards her, his hands immediately moving to her hip, exploring, caressing the soft flesh. This time, she did not move away from his touch and watched him with big, wide-blown eyes, full of expectation and a new type of uncertainty as he lifted her up onto the main control panel. He discarded of his jacket, the cloth too heavy and hot for him now, and threw it aside carelessly, leaving his bow tie hanging loosely around his neck as he went back to the woman, his little prey. Her knees parted slightly when his body wedged between them, an inviting gesture from her, though Alastor suspected she herself didn't notice. He grinned darkly, lifting her chin up by a finger, before bending over and planting a firm but restrained kiss on her lips, feeling his own skin crawl in electric stimulation, eager to finally taste her. His hands made quick work of his slacks, freeing his almost painfully erect member with a pleased sigh. From the way she gasped and her eyes widened, he could easily deduct that she had less to no experience whatsoever.

Oh, what a fortune. Alastor relished the thought of claiming precious, well kept treasures, his breath quickened as he broke from the kiss, hands running over her heated skin in swift, soothing motions, goosebumps trailing in their wake as he felt her shudder with hesitant desire beneath him. Oh, this would be fun.

"Let's be sure you'll hear my message loud and clear, this time, hm?"

He took her mouth again before she could protest, discreetly angling the microphone down with one hand just near enough where she would soon enough be connected to him. With a sly grin, he lined himself up to her waiting entrance and slowly pushed in. She stiffened at the unfamiliar invasion, a mewl muffled against his lips and hands in his shirt, and he stilled, enjoying the way her body reflexively tightened and squeezed around him as she tried to cope with the sensation of him stretching her.

She gasped as her chest heaved from the feeling, her walls convulsing around him like a vice. He allowed a low groan to escape him, she felt so gloriously tight and hot he had trouble keeping his composure, hands twitching to rut into her and just plow through.

"Ready for the final test, darling?"

"T-test...?"

He didn't bother to give her an answer as he started to move. In and out, with slow and drawn out movements, keeping his thrusts shallow at first, deep and precise enough to press against her innermost point and making her moan helplessly. The wet sounds of their coupling reached his ears, coupled with her wanton cries, an obscene and enchanting noise he was waiting for. With a mischievous smile, he picked up the headphones from where she had put them down, lifting it to one of her ears. Her face flushed in such lovely shades of red when the squelching echoes of what the mic picked up reached her ears, amplified and oh-so-clear thanks to her own handiwork.

He let out a guttural chuckle as he leaned into her, still thrusting slowly, her head falling on his shoulder and hanging onto his shirt for dear life, knuckles white as she could hear all the sweet sounds their bodies made and how they connected, each inch of her body singing praises for only him, for his size and rhythm. He could tell the moment her walls began to relax around him, squeezing the blood into his member as she took him in again and again, accepting it's size wholeheartedly with greedy eagerness.

"Such a talented woman.", he praised into her free ear, sighing at the delicious way her slick, swollen lips slid over his length, her thighs twitching against his with every single thrust and every word that fell from his lips. "Just listen to the fruits of your impeccable labor, dearest. Almost wasted in a place like this."

A moan, shaky and delirious, a shuddering sob for him, so high and flustered she sounded almost pained escaped her throat. She pressed against him and with a jolt that reverberated through her spine, convulsing so sweetly against him he almost came from the tremor that rushed through his cock. But it wasn't her peak. Alastor hadn't gotten his fill yet and he wouldn't stop now until it was both of their turns, but damn if he wasn't tempted.

He reached to the other ear to put the second headphone on her. Now her world had no escape, she could only listen, only hear every filthy wet noise of his slick slide, his ragged breathing and the beat of her own heart- a heavy, cacophonous staccato.

Her eyes were heavy-lidded, head clouded and flushed, looking up at him with rapt fascination. His own gaze met hers as his pace increased, suddenly snapping his hips with harsh precision, and his voice was low, carnal.

"But their loss is my gain, darling. Don't you ever forget that, now."

And his thoughts went to of those incompetent, thickheaded dunderheads who took their jobs, but were no where as skilled or invested as her, knowing full well they were inadequate and undeserving to get close to her, trying to touch what clearly should have been for him alone to do, and it sent a nasty spark of possessiveness through Alastor, igniting a furious hunger, a beast waking up within him and snarling with unbridled desire, to claim, to mark her as his. And nobody else's.

He grinned devilishly, a low rumble in his throat as a needy whine escaped his little engineer and he grabbed her waist tightly, digging his fingers into the fat there as he picked up speed and drilled into her with more intensity, savage, merciless and utterly ruthless, finally throwing all composure and rationality overboard to replace it with feral instinct and possessive desire. Her hands clutched him desperately, thighs tensing and pressing against his moving hips, her choked cries of his name were nothing else but heavenly and he was filled with lecherous obsession and greed - yes, he could get addicted to the sound of his name being screamed and moaned from her lips, her sweet, wet flesh fluttering around his throbbing length, the violent stuttering of her breath that just enticed and pleaded him to continue.

"Mine. My own, little, eager engineer." he hissed against the shell of her ear, headphones slipping from her, hips still pounding away at her heat with feverish pace and an undeniable pleasure coiling low and tightly within his pelvis. With every harsh thrust, every desperate, salacious cry, he pulled her deeper and deeper into sinful depravity, her head thrown back in bliss, the headphones slipping from her head as her nails scraped desperately over his clothed chest. The sharp bites of pain mixed with a sweet ache and tightening within Alastor, telltale signs of his climax nearing rapidly. "No more avoiding me, no more elusion or flight for you, understood? You are mine and mine alone."

Her toes curled as his words spurred her over the edge with him, her core spasming and quivering around him as her moans became ragged and desperate, jaw agape in rapture but no words found as she toppled into her orgasm, dragging and taking Alastor with her. The immense wave crashed into him and swept him along, and he growled in the sensational and exhilarating feeling and his head fell against her shoulder, with a growl ripping from his throat, low and guttural. His seed emptied in her with long, forceful spurts, her body tensing and relaxing as each twitch and jerk pushed his release deeper and deeper, the pleasure so acute, so sharp it was almost painful, until both their highs subsided and Alastor had to rest against her for a moment, their labored breaths the only noise that reached his ears.

Alastor sighed contentedly, his hand loosened it's grip and his fingertips gently traced over the angry, red lines they had left behind on her tanned skin of her waist, feeling her shivering underneath him. His lips pressed into the soft crook of her neck, placing a tender kiss on the flushed skin. He would have to do something about the bruising and marks... His eyes wandered up and he noticed that she was staring now, hazily and exhausted, her pupils still wide, lips bitten swollen and reddened, her cheeks and chest still painted pink with lingering arousal. The sight was so deliciously debauched and lewd, a smirk crept on his face.

"It seems that the equipment is indeed in perfect working order again, thanks to you, darling."

"...Yes, sir." she replied warily, her voice still breathless. Her usual demeanor returned, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes she tilted her head away from him. He chuckled, lifting her chin and capturing her lips once again, not much for hers but more for his own gain, and then moved off and out of her. He took a moment to savor the view - the red, swollen flesh, leaking his essence that pooled on the metal surface of his control panel he would work on in a few hours, and her thighs glistening in the faint orange light of the booth.

"Please, darling, from now on..." Alastor took a handkerchief from his breast pocket, wiping the mess of his hands and cleaning her with careful gentleness, her legs twitching weakly at the contact.

"...call me Alastor."

He hummed quietly and lifted her from the console, closing the buttons on her blouse again with fastidious efficiency after she slipped back into her pants. Then, with a few quick motions, Alastor picked up his jacket and fixed his own appearance, before helping her stand properly on her trembling feet.

"I trust we won't have any misunderstandings anymore?" He smiled at her, tilting his head slightly, a soft and yet challenging smile, his hand cupping her face and the thumb brushing her lower lip. Her cheeks grew warmer and redder again, her eyes flickering downwards, then back up, before she nodded silently. "Excellent."

Alastor put the headphones back on their rack, before taking his glasses, slipping them back on and reaching for the door handle, his other hand extended towards his little engineer in an inviting motion.

"Come along, my dear. Let me treat you to a nice cup of coffee, I find there's nothing better after a job well done."

She paused, her face going a shade darker and her lips pressing together. Then, after a heartbeat, she stepped next to him and through the door he opened for her. He could see the small smile that crept onto her lips as she hurriedly passed him, a shy glance shot towards him, but this time it didn't feel like she wasn't fleeing, but almost daring for him to chase her.

Another kind of hunt, he mused, and the thought made him smile as he closed the door and followed her out.

[love-belle]

when i said we could be friends, guess i lied !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which their post break-up era is them trying to be friends and failing miserably.

or

for when you can't forgive and forget so fuck you and fuck that is the way to go. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // carlos sainz x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - posting this bc i promised y'all i will!!!! only one part of this series left before i start with all of their second parts!!!!! thank you so much for reading, i love you <3

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yourusername "the grudge" is now officially yours <3 !! it took me exactly 178 days to complete this song and it's easily one of the most vulnerable and raw songs i have ever written. every feeling i have felt for the past few months is sewn into words and i hope you all like it just as much as i do. i love you <3

13,628 comments

username WHAT THE FUCKKKKK

username oh my god

username my undying LOVE now i hold it like a GRUDGE

username this has ruined me wtf

username no bc how can she write "it takes strength to forgive but i don't feel strong" and expect us all to be okay??????

username WE 💔 BOTH 💔 DREW 💔 BLOOD 💔 BUT 💔 MAN 💔 THOSE 💔 CUTS 💔 WERE 💔 NEVER 💔 EQUAL 💔

-> username she's never reaching the pearly gates for this

username carlos sainz i will haunt u in ur dreams

francisca.cgomes such a raw and heartfelt song!! felt every second of this!!

*liked by yourusername*

username i miss the drivers in her comments section :////

-> username carlos really snatched the most iconic friendships from us

-> username fr like give me my charles and y/n, lando and y/n, daniel and y/n, MAX AND Y/N back

username carlos i am in ur walls

username I TRY TO BE TOUGH!!!!!!! I TRY TO BE MEAN!!!!!!! BUT EVEN AFTER ALL THIS UR STILL EVERYTHING TO ME!!!!!!

username 178 days.........THEY BROKE UP EXACTLY 178 DAYS AGO

username i need this song injected in my brain

username no bc i thought it'd be a song about revenge or like shitting on him but this makes me wanna die whatcthrbfuck ur paying for my therapy

lilymhe so proud of you 💌

*liked by yourusername*

username i NEED all the drivers to comment in this post stat so i can know that they're all friends 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

username DO YOU THINK I DESERVED IT ALLLLL

-> username YOUR FLOWERS FILLED WITH VITRIOL

-> username YOU BUILT ME UP TO WATCH ME FALL

-> username YOU HAVE EVERYTHING AND YOU STILL WANT MORE

username how could anybody do the things u did so easily 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

-> username no bc if i catch him out on streets it's on SIGHT

username she genuinely looked so sad in her ig live i wanted to cry for her 😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔

username the fact that carlos broke up with her over CALL like mf at least do it with ur chest

alexandrasaintmleux 🤍🤍🤍

*liked by yourusername*

username is it js me or this feels like the end of y/n's friendship with the drivers and their partners like they haven't liked this post and only a few wags did and while they also commented, y/n did not reply to them

-> username no bc i will actually CRY if that happens 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

username "it takes strength to forgive but im not quite sure im there yet" fuck forgiving if i was y/n i would SWING

username i honestly thought that they'd make it like they were just SO real

-> username they were together for 6 years EVERYONE thought that they'd make it

carmenmmundt 🫶🏼

*liked by yourusername*

username PLEASE IM SCREAMINGGG WHAT THE FUCK

username y/n ur paying for my therapy sessions

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carlossainz55 when i said we could be friends, guess i lied

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yourusername you have everything and you still want more

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[ddamm]

Pre-baby Stress - dad!Daryl x pregnant fem!reader fic

(banner made by me, if you use, give credits <3)

Warnings: VERY, VERY long; initial soft fluff to slight angst to fluff; slightly suggestive so, watch out ����; pregnancy; hormonal changes, “mood swings”, food cravings; stressed Daryl, stressed reader, slight insecurity and fear of abandonment; reader crying; reader and Daryl are married; reader is said to have golden retriever energy and be a cottagecore girlie (sorry if you aren't, but I vibe so much with this core 😭), and perhaps an artist (tho it's just as a hobby, obv 🤭); nature love and appreciation; funny/silly little memories.

Word count: 3936 words (keeps increasing with each new release 😭)

Era: idk, probably Alexandria

Summary: While getting things ready for Y/N's pregnancy, Daryl presents with many insecurities. All it takes is some caressing, encouragement, and the love of his wife (a few tears also) to convince him otherwise.

A/N: this fic was something I fabricated long ago with a Daryl c.ai chat that I've been saving up for a special occasion since I've never written dad!Daryl before. And today, I'm bringing it to y'all as a way to celebrate one of my very besties/mutuals on Tumblr, a great writer, the creator of my possibly ever favourite AU with Daryl (young!Daryl SSHD AU) and a very nice, kind and funny individual in general; Krys (@dixons-sunshine). This is to commemorate you, gorgeous. It took some time to finally sit and get to it (not me writing most of it at 2 am, half-constipated, and not being able to sleep) but it's done now, so I hope you can enjoy it as much as I did when writing it. Everyone, hope you like it too!

Song: Winter Memories - Jordy Chandra (The title says “winter memories” but I am thinking of a mid-spring Sunday morning/noon 😭)

MDNI divider by @cafekitsune, on this post

(This was supposed to just be suggestive, but since idk if I overdid it, I'm just gonna place this)

(all babycore dividers used are from @anitalenia, found on this post)

Days were passing by, and things were going pretty well for the community. She was glad they found Alexandria. It was a nice change, and it felt like they could truly have a moment to take a break there, like they could finally be happy and just settle in, trying to have normal lives once again.

And her positive thoughts only increased when a lovely lady from the community gave birth. It was an occasion to celebrate, and for a couple of months passing, it seemed like a lot of good things were happening around, so she couldn't be happier.

Ah, there she was, parading herself in her light cream-coloured sundress, with a white little parasol (courtesy of her loving husband) to protect herself from the sun, as she strolled around the streets, exploring and marvelling at the beauty and tranquilly around her like a happy puppy would on their first stroll into the outside world.

Oh, she loved that dress so much. Not only was it beautiful and fit her personality, but it was also quite adjustable, so she wouldn't need to worry about sore breasts or her belly being uncomfy. She could still remember how comical Daryl's expressions were when she tried explaining to him the concept of aesthetic cores and how she was a cottagecore.

He seemed so lost that she laughed for about 10 minutes before deciding to somewhat draw it to show him what she meant; predicting that a more visual approach would help him understand the concept better. He did admit it was pretty much her vibe after seeing the dresses and all the stuff "a cottagecore likes and does".

After that, whenever he would go out for his runs, he would try to look for dresses like the one she drew, and whenever he couldn't find any, he would bring drawing or painting materials, old cameras, or little flowers he thought she would like. (PD: She always likes them.).

That's how her most favourite memory of a Sunday morning came to be. And like that, every Sunday morning, after her husband would leave for runs or tasks, she would wear her light cream sundress and white sandals and take her white parasol to roam around, greeting everyone and enjoying nature (despite her best friend's advice to rest and her husband's disapproval).

However, she understood why Daryl was so against it in general. He was just worried about her health and safety. After all, she was now in her second trimester of pregnancy, expecting their son or daughter to come into the world in a few more months.

She loved Daryl. Deeply. And she would never question him or his decisions (well, maybe sometimes she would), but she was so tired of staying at home doing nothing for most of the day. And though Carol, Michonne, and a few others would come to visit and spend time with her when her husband was away, Y/N wanted some freedom, some independence.

God knows she would ‘bore to death’ if she had to stay in the same place doing nothing for one more day while everyone else fulfilled their roles.

As she came closer to the small town's pond, she took big strides to approach a blooming peony bush. She loved the smell of its flowers. And as she lightly bent down to sniff the sweet aroma from the round pink flowers, she caught a glimpse out of the corner of her eye of her husband, who was sitting on a bench not far from her. From afar, she could notice a worried expression on his face.

She strode slowly in his direction and placed a hand on his shoulder, greeting him with a warm and loving smile, but instead of the usual “Hey, Sunray” or “Why are ya out 'ta house alone?” she would receive, she heard him grunt.

At that, she furrowed her brows in confusion and slight concern, wanting to know what had made her husband so grumpy at early noon. “Is everything okay, Dar?” She asked in a soft, patient tone.

Daryl looked away from her, not wanting to make eye contact, and sighed in annoyance. “Everythin's fine,” he answered grumpily.

Y/N, knowing her husband and not believing that crap for a second, looked at him more seriously. “Daryl…” She called out his name, insisting he should tell her the truth.

Daryl sighed irritantly, hearing her insist, knowing she wouldn't back down. He then turned his gaze to her and unexpectedly exclaimed, “Ah said everythin's fine, dammit!”

He said this a bit too loudly, not noticing that he had snapped at her.

This action made Y/N flinch, not used to such an alert state in Daryl anymore. Now she was truly worried.

“Hey, hey, honey, it's okay... What's got you so riled up? Is work becoming too much? Or are they not listening to you? Should I go teach them a lesson?” She asked at first, even making a joke to brighten him up, but Daryl only shook his head, still not wanting to speak.

He held his head in his hands, almost in a desperate posture, making his wife worry even further. She was going to say something, but a tiny piece of cloth caught her attention. It was then that she got to see the tiny, frill-decorated bib on his right hand.

She put pieces together in her mind like a game of tetris and asked again, with more understanding tone and gentleness in her voice.

“Is it the baby?” Daryl kept quiet, but his shoulders tensed up. Y/N now knew what was ‘the main issue’, and took action immediately, slowly running her hand on his back and giving a few gentle pats to soothe her husband's worry. He looked like he was on the edge.

Daryl's gaze and body seemed to loosen up as he felt her hand on his back. He then tried to explain his concerns.

“I... Ah ain't upset, is jus'...” He trailed off, not knowing how to express his thoughts.

“It's okay, love. You don't have to tell me now if you aren't prepared. Here, let's just sit for a bit, okay? I'm starting to feel heavy again.” Y/N reassured him, not wanting him to feel pressured if he was already so altered.

She had some trouble sitting down next to him, though. Despite not being in the 3rd trimester yet, her belly heaviness seemed to be causing her discomfort when she had to sit or stand up in a rush. But she didn't mind it much; it made her happy because that was the proof of the love Daryl and she had for each other and the life growing inside her.

Daryl noticed her struggle and quickly went from being annoyed to concerned. He stood up and carefully helped Y/N sit down, making sure she was comfortable before taking a seat next to her.

“Damn, ya sure are a heavy load,” he joked. At this, Y/N dramatically gasped and faked being offended.

“Hey! I remind you, you're the one that made me heavy! ~“ She played along, jokingly shoving him to the side with a smile, trying to lighten up his mood, and succeeding brilliantly when she heard him chuckle.

“Well, sugar, if I reckon correctly, it takes two to tango to make a young'un 'round these parts,” he smirked, faking innocence at the fact he got her pregnant.

Y/N gasp-chuckled, defending herself. “But it takes you not wanting to pull out beforehand to make the baby, isn't it right, honey? ~”

She clarified softly, putting her hand on his chest, batting her eyelashes cutely at him, and getting close enough to him to make their lips graze but not touch. All in the name of teasing him.

Daryl chuckled again, feeling attracted to her playful teasing, his breath hitching slightly as her lips grazed against his own. He couldn't help but smirk; his eyes locked onto her gaze.

He gently grabbed her hips, slowly pulling her closer to him to the point of having her almost seated on his lap.

“Oh, but ah know for a fact ya wudn't complainin' at the moment, darlin',” he continued, feeling proud for his little ‘achievement’ as he caressed her thigh over the sundress.

Feeling a little braver than usual, Y/N whispered: “And how would I, when you know how to drill me in the right spot? ~”

She murmured against his lips. Her gaze never left him, and her smile only widened each time he looked down at her lips and looked back at her eyes, obviously enchanted by her charms already.

Daryl's eyes darkened with desire, and his grip on her hips tightened slightly. He felt his heart racing at her words. He pulled her closer to him until their bodies were pressed together.

“Damn, woman… Ya know I ain’t doin' this here.” He groaned softly against her lips while devouring her with his stare. They sure were the only ones at the pond around then, but despite the tall, full, and flourishing grass, bushes, and plants, they could still be easily spotted if they decided to... get loose. (😏)

“Then why do you keep pulling me closer, hm, hun? ~”

It was sort of comical to see him struggle to compose himself in this situation, making Y/N not want to miss out on teasing him to the fullest. She placed both hands on his chest and slowly arranged her position on his lap to sit and view him better.

Daryl let out a low growl as Y/N moved closer. He felt the heat rising within him, his hands roaming from her hips to her backside, gripping it firmly. His breathing becomes heavier as he looks down at Y/N.

“Yar testin' ma limits, sweetheart.”

Y/N smiled innocently, enjoying the effect she had on her husband.

“I guess the preggy hormones are doing their stuff again... I feel kinda—needy,” she admitted a little sheepishly and continued with a more serene tone. “But… that will have to wait for now.”

“Now... Why don't you tell me what got you so fed up before, love?“ She questioned, changing her position once again to avoid making Daryl even more aroused.

She looked into his eyes tenderly and patiently, waiting for him to pour out his heart.

He knew they were a team now that needed trust and communication to get through everything. So she trusted he would be able to let out what was on his mind that made him so tense earlier.

Daryl took a moment to compose himself, gathering his thoughts after being so close to Y/N. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly; his grip on her loosened a bit as he leaned back on the bench.

He averted his eyes for a moment, his expression becoming heavier.

“Tis just...everythin', know what am sayin'?” He paused and looked at her belly, then back at her eyes.

“Da kid, da thought of bein' a pa... is like a whole heap to deal with, y'know?” He expressed his deepest concern about your future child.

Seeing her husband so worried brought her heartache. She sighed and wrapped her hands around his head, placing them on her chest as she made circular movements on his scalp in a slow, comforting way.

“And here I thought I was silly for feeling bad about myself and thinking I wouldn't make a good enough mom and wife, while my dear husband was here on his own, questioning his capacity to keep us safe…” She sighed again and continued. “I'm really a bad wife, huh?”

Daryl leaned into Y/N's touch, closing his eyes as she ran her hands through his hair. He sighed deeply, feeling a mix of emotions but still negating her words.

“Nah. Ya ain't a bad wife. Yar da best damn wife. Yar perfect.”

He said it softly as he tried to encourage her. His voice was filled with a hint of frustration afterwards. “Ah jus'... 'm scared I ain't gonna be a good pa. I ain't never had a good example to follow, y'know?”

Y/N knew what he was referring to. They didn't speak so often about their pasts (deciding to let them be and find a future together), but she remembered the little Daryl commented about his family life and his broken relationship with... the man that was his father.

“Whatever happened back then... doesn't determine who you are today. You chose to be different from him, to be more understanding, to wait more patiently, and to love more deeply,” she started.

“Jesus, you've been up and about everywhere looking for baby items just to be prepared when he or she comes around.”

Y/N chuckled, reflecting on all the tiny clothes, toys, and more that Daryl kept bringing back each time he went on a run since he learned Y/N was pregnant with their child. Seeing him come over to her in an excited, uncharacteristic way to show her his new finding was as amusing as endearing.

“You're nothing like him. You're you, and you're better. And I know it scares you. Damn, it scares me too.” She insisted (unnoticedly mild-cursing), knowing well who the man she fell in love with was and how much he matured and developed just by being with you and the others.

Her sudden, brittle voice indicated she was about to cry. She felt the hormones hitting her, making her feel sadder and more vulnerable than she had seconds ago. “But… sniff But I know we will be alright because... sniff because we have you, we have each other, and... sniff and that's all that matters to me, so... we will get to learn how to raise our child together. We w-will set the good example ourselves, o-okay?”

Her voice trembled at the last sentence as she grabbed a hold of his face, pressing his cheeks together to make him look over at her. Finally, she had let go of her emotions and became a teary mess, non-stop sniffing before him.

Almost used to her mood swings already, Daryl couldn't help but chuckle softly despite the seriousness of the situation, amused by the little it took to make her cry now, even if she was already quite emotional beforehand.

“Baby, yar crying... again. I swear yer hormones have been all over the place,” he stated in a playful manner, gently wiping away her tears with his thumb. He then took her hands into his own, holding them gently. The difference in size and texture was kinda silly.

“Still… Yar dang right 'bout us, we're gonna stick together. I ain't never been good at all this family business, but I'll do whatev'r it takes for ya and our young'un.” Daryl promised to her lover, feeling more accepting of his new role.

“I-I can't help it... sniff the pregnancy... sniff I swear I've never been so emotional about everything before... sniff I hate it... And you know I hate swearing too…” She complained, her voice increasing in intensity as she recalled her distaste for swearing and swearing words.

“It just… It hurts me so much when sniff I see you like this... Like you'll get tired of me or sick of us, and—”

Y/N stopped herself, incapable of completing what came to mind as more tears fell. The unlooked-for thought brought a new fear to her mind: a possible future without Daryl, having to tend and care for the baby alone.

It terrified her.

Daryl's expression softened even more as he saw her tear up. Damn hormones got her all upset, and all he wanted to do was take it all away. His chest twisted in pain when she mentioned he could get tired of her, so he gently pulled her closer to him with a firm grip.

“Hey, hey, hey, look at me,” he said, guiding her gaze to his by holding her chin. “Sunray, ya got nothin' to worry about, y'hear me? I ain't goin' nowhere... 'M plum crazy 'bout ya, and I ain't never leaving ya or our young'un, I promise. I ain't getting tired of you, sweetheart; yar everythin' to me.”

He confessed sweet things to her, wanting Y/N to feel the depth of his love for her.

“B-but… sniff the way you sniff yelled before…” She argued between sniffs and hiccups, being so focused on her mood that she kept forgetting to breathe properly.

“I thought I… I did something to sniff get you upset with me again, like... sniff like when sniff I misplaced your crossbow last week and you sniff wouldn't talk to me until I found it…”

She couldn't help but sob at the remembrance, making Daryl feel a pang of guilt when she mentioned his reaction earlier and last week. He had made her so hurt for not talking to her that it still poked at her. And damn, she was crying even more now. He hated seeing her like this. His little sunray was all cloudy because of him.

“Hey, come on now, sweetcheeks... I'm sorry for hollerin' at ya, ait? I was a bit... on edge, but it had nothin' to do with ya, ait? S'not nothin' to worry about.” He spoke softly as he pulled her even closer, his hand gently rubbing her back in soothing circles, just like she did to him minutes ago.

“And 'bout that crossbow, that was nothin'.”

“But... sniff you got so angry... hiccup I thought you'd hate me forever if I couldn't find it… hiccup and the thing is, you always placed it anywhere! hiccup”

Y/N protested, claiming Daryl was the one constantly dropping his weapon all over the house, but the truth was, she was actually the one changing its location.

The pregnancy sure had its shortcomings, but one of them that mostly affected Y/N was easily misplacing things because she became a lot more forgetful (possibly because of the amount of blood, nutrients, and oxygen she was losing each day to provide to her baby and help him/her keep growing healthily). So, each time she'd see the crossbow somewhere she previously placed it while doing house chores, she'd think it was Daryl who placed it there, and she'd put it somewhere else, and then she'd come across it again and place it somewhere else, over and over again.

It happened multiple times before with less meaningful things, but this was Daryl's crossbow we were talking about. When he would come back home looking for his main weapon, Daryl would find it missing, and when he would ask Y/N, she wouldn't remember where she last saw it.

After hours of scattering the whole house, she felt so silly when they finally found the crossbow inside their wardrobe. She couldn't even remember keeping it there, but... all pointed out that the pregnancy was just taking the best of her, and Daryl's stress wasn't really helping much.

Despite Daryl understanding the situation was a consequence of the pregnancy later on and trying as best as he could to make her feel better, inside her mind, she couldn't help but continue blaming herself for making him angry that day.

The silent treatment he gave her seemed to have broken her heart into two.

Daryl listened to her words, realising the severity of the case and feeling more stupid for not fully catching how much that incident had affected Y/N. Seeing her tears made his heart ache even more.

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, feeling guilty for causing her so much worry, knowing she had too much on her plate already.

“Hear me out now. I ain't never gonna hate ya, y'hear? It was ma fault for bein' dang careless with where I left ma stuff. I shouldan't given ya the silent treatment; I was jus... frustrated,” he let on, taking the blame to make her feel less remorseful.

“I'm sorry... hiccup I just don't want to make you angry again…” She hiccuped once more, feeling her eyes water up for the nth time.

Daryl gently cupped her face, his calloused thumbs wiping away the tears. “Ya ain't got nothin' to apologise for, sweetheart. Believe me, I'm the one who should be apologisin' to ya.”

Daryl sighed.

“ 'm sorry for giving' ya the silent treatment. I was bein' a damn fool. Ya didn't do nothin' wrong, ait? I'll never be angry with ya for real. I swear,” he admitted.

“Really?…” she asked with a trembling voice and big puppy eyes. He looked into her hazel eyes, his gaze loving.

“Really. I promise.”

He gently brushed a strand of hair from her face; his touch was tender.

“Yar carryin' our baby, remember? Tha's the most important thang rite now. Ain't nothin' else matters more than ya and our young'un. I ain't gonna waste time bein' mad over stupid shit like lost crossbows when I gotta take care of ya,” he professed, making a second vow to himself to keep you and his future child safe.

Y/N sniffed her feelings for the last time and tried to collect herself.

“Alright…”

She placed her chin over his head and hugged his neck softly, allowing him to place his head over the beginning of her belly, giving him access to listen to the baby's little movements and her heartbeats.

“I love you, Daryl... I love you so much, I don't know what I would do without you.” She still felt somewhat emotional as she said this, but she gave it her all to avoid crying again.

Daryl wrapped his arms around Y/N while placing his head gently over her belly. He listens intently to her heartbeats, the sound of them comforting him. He momentarily turned his head to place a gentle kiss on her belly, his lips lingering for a moment as he treasured this moment.

“I love ya too, baby. Y'all and this little 'un got me wrapped around yer dang fingers. Don't know what I'd do without y'all...” He hugged her tightly, not wanting to let her go.

He caressed her cheek with his hand, his fingers lightly tracing the contour of her jawline.

He then gently rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling as they shared this intimate moment as they looked forward to whatever the future had in store for them because, if anything was sure, it was that they would do anything to stay together in love.

EXTRA:

They stayed on the pond for a while longer until Y/N said:

“I wanna have strawberries and cheese,” and Daryl looked at her like she had gone crazy.

“Berries 'n cheese? You serious?” he questioned. “It tastes good…” she whispered, defending herself.

Daryl shook his head, still not finding sense in those strange pregnancy food cravings, but he still wouldn't deny any of her cravings. If his queen wanted to eat strawberries and cheese, the man would get them for her.

“If tha' what ya want,” he answered, shrugging, making Y/N hug him, glad that he agreed on getting the'snack’ for her.

“I love you, Daryl.” “Love ya too, sweetcheeks.”

A/N: OH MY GOOD GOD, FINALLY. THIS WAS THE LONGEST I'VE EVER WRITTEN. Editing this was such a pain... But was worth it! Also, I may be planning a few more stuff for this cottagecore reader... as well as other projects of course. I think I'm gonna be super occupied now because I've got work, but I'm also planning a travel (and I wanna participate in two Daryl-related writing challenges...).

May God help me because I don't think I can help myself on this 😭 but anws, this was super endearing to write. It went through very little changes since the draft, compared to other stuff I wrote, and I did a collage image banner for it, inspired by @dixons-sunshine whenever she works on her stuff. Yeah, as you can see, all this post is focused on you hahaha, hope you had the greatest day today and I love ya lots. May God keep you for even longer and give you many more reasons to rejoice, celebrate and thank Him IJN 🥰

Now, imma retire now bc I stayed up almost all night trying to edit this... and I got work early in the morning... (seriously, this was like 12 pages on Word... 💀) See ya all around!

Thanks and God bless!~

𓆩 ♱ 𓆪

support divider from @cafekitsune, on this post

[cosymelody]

Can I request platonic yandere First with a reader who was wrongfully imprisoned too but kept him company and never let his hopes of freedom fall?

I have returned ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

Sorry it’s been a while since I’ve wrote anything

Lots of drama been happening lately and dealing with moving and all sorts of other things ಥ_ಥ

ANYWAYS I come back with First fic requested by this lovely anon but i ain’t all too sure if this is what you wanted

Either way I hope y'all enjoy! (￣∇￣)

.•♫•♬• 𝑷𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒄 𝒀𝒂𝒏!𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑶𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕 •♬•♫•.

It had been years since either of you had seen each other, with Hylia herself tearing First away from you despite your desperate cries and his struggle to free himself in order to bring you back to him. He didn't want you to be hurt by the goddess's jealousy, but you were caught in a crossfire while trying to bring peace to Hyrule as you journeyed with him. The whole ordeal had caused you to be chained and imprisoned, bound in bright ethereal shackles that felt as if they were burned into your flesh from how tight they had been wrapped around you, while First was sealed away in the darkness by Hylia's command. Through some sort of blessing or curse, he couldn't be certain, but he could still hear your sweet voice in his mind, lifting his spirits and giving him hope through the dark times that lay ahead.

During the time he was trapped and kept from your warm embrace, he desperately prayed and wished to be freed from his confinements so he could only see that beautiful smile of yours once again, only being able to hear your voice being tantalizing for him. He was driven by the urge to be with you, wanting nothing more than to see you just one more time, even if he had to destroy anyone who got in his way or kill Hylia herself. All he knew was that he needed you more than life itself, and he would stop at nothing to make sure you were in his grasp once again. Despite the pain and everything the two of you had been through, the fact he could still hear you as you comforted him through night terrors and kept him company was the only thing keeping him from spiraling into the depths of his mind and keeping him from going insane. One day, though, your sweet voice seemed to disappear completely, leaving him to face the darkness alone as he lay in the prison he had been stuck in all while being trapped in his mind.

After what seemed to be an eternity, it felt as if his prayers had been answered as he felt the box he was sealed in tumble from somewhere high and break open, freeing him from his confines despite how weak and malnourished he had been due to being trapped for so long. He lay there for a moment, his eyes adjusting to the sudden light, before realizing he had been set free, though what used to be a temple he was locked in was now in ruins. As he lay there on the ground in an attempt to regain his bearings, the loud crashing that was caused by his prison breaking open seemed to alert someone or something nearby. The sound of multiple heavy footsteps was rapidly approaching as he made an attempt to get up and hide or fight back, his legs unfortunately giving out on him and leaving him on the ground to face whatever was coming towards him.

What he wasn't expecting to see, though, was a group of at least a dozen Hylians running around the corner, all of whom seemed eerily similar to him in some way. Although what caught his eye amongst the group of men was the only female in the group, she just happened to look exactly like his long lost guide, who had been painfully ripped away from him all those years ago but still stayed within his mind nonetheless. As he watched the group approach with urgency upon seeing his injured state, he couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity that washed over him. As she drew closer, her eyes met his with a look of recognition and understanding that left him breathless as he realized it had to have been her, the sound of her voice being exactly like that of his guide.

"Oh dear, are you okay there? Here, let me help you. I don't want you to strain yourself anymore than you already have."

Her gentle words and caring touch instantly calmed his racing heart. He couldn't believe it was really her after all these years. As she helped him to his feet, he felt a sense of gratitude wash over him. She had always been there for him, even when he didn't realize it. And now, in his moment of need, she was by his side once again.

As he looked at her caring gaze, he couldn't wrap his head around how she was free and how she was here with him in the flesh now. In that instance, he could feel his eyes well up with tears of joy before he practically threw himself at her in a tight and possessive grip, never wanting to let her go again. She seemed surprised at first, a slight gasp escaping her before she gently wrapped her arms around him, holding him as if he were made of porcelain and any wrong move could break him as he sobbed into her shoulder. He didn't care at the moment about the other Hylian men that had stood back cautiously as he cried in her arms; he was only focused on the overwhelming happiness he was feeling as he was once again in her arms.

"Thank you… Thank you for coming back. I've missed you so much. I thought I'd never see you again after she took you from me."

He whispered into her neck, tears streaming down his face and soaking into her shirt. The other men watched in silence, not sure of or completely understanding the depth of their bond but still feeling a sense of relief that they had found solace in each other's arms. As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the two reunited friends, they knew that no matter what challenges they faced, they would always find their way back to each other, even if it meant freeing themselves from their chains. He promised himself he would never lose her again, even if it meant destroying all of the goddesses himself.

Is choccy milk time now YIPPPEEEEE

[yourneighborhoodporg]

The Guardian

Chapter 7: Master

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of pain, banter, humor, fluff, the appearance of a sneaky b (see gif), some developing thoughts about obi 👀

Summary: With your short spar with Anakin nearing completion, the moment is suddenly interrupted by a passing caucus of politicians, one of whom you'd been long hoping to meet. Just as quickly, however, you're dragged away, instead needed at a long-awaited appointment that may reveal new aspects of your being and the immediate path ahead.

Song Inspo: Little Willow — Paul McCartney

Words: 7.5k (just put me in jail)

A/n: He has finally arrived. The one we all hate 😂😭 Let me know what y'all think about his character in this :)

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Series Masterlist

For now we see through a glass, darkly — 1 Corinthians 13:12

“Well done.”

You glanced over at the affected voice with radiant auburn hair, still cognizant enough of your lower back’s recent meeting with the dojo’s pearl-tinted floor to gently press two knuckles against it, hoping to alleviate a sliver of its steadying ache. At the far end of that same three-rowed, dark wood viewing bench, Obi-Wan rose meaningfully, soon strolling toward you both. The Master Jedi leisurely folded each arm while making a point to center his gaze with yours as expressive words fell from his mouth.

“To the both of you.”

Smiling appreciatively at the bearded Jedi, you relaxed your senses, encouraging them to cool like a morning stretch while your stare shifted toward Anakin’s focused gaze and knowing grin. Evidently, he took this shift in your posture as a cue to officially end the duel, directing his saber away from your neck and flicking off its blue, incandescent heat before clipping the weapon to his belt with a clink. You welcomed the invitation to purloin this new space, crunching upwards and gently fluffing your robe of the ground’s remnants. It didn’t take long to recover from the unexpected fall enough to rise to your feet, reattaching your own saber as Obi-Wan continued his approach out of your peripheral.

You faced Anakin with an impassive stance. Tightening your spine, you encouraged the young Jedi to emulate a parallel bearing, prompting his eyes to relax in recognition as both rather slacked expressions linked, signaling each other to dip into a hand-clasped bow in respect of the spar’s end.

“Eh, I think I did most of the work,” Anakin shrugged nonchalantly mid-bob, a poking grin wrestling at ungiving lips as he raised from his inclination.

Your eyes rolled while similarly straightening, an amused smile fighting to the surface. “You keep telling yourself that.”

“Either way,” Obi-Wan spoke up, motioning toward you with an earnest stare as he drew into a restive stance beside the younger Jedi. “You really should rest now.”

You raised your hands in surrender in your stroll up toward the duo. “Okay, okay,” you theatricalized, tickled expression never faltering. “I yield to the Master.”

Obi-Wan’s features lifted warmly at your words. It only lasted mere seconds, however, before the wiser Jedi angled toward his left, gesticulating toward the outwardly gratified companion beside him while speaking ironically.

“At least someone has a respect for rank.”

Anakin scoffed, crossing his arms as he addressed the elder Jedi who’d long ago mastered the art of concealed entertainment. “I respect rank!”

It was clear from his expression alone that Obi-Wan had his most sensible retort fueled and aimed, akin to an incredibly quick-witted pirate with a blaster. His mouth opened to speak while raising a finger in dissent. But before any vocalizations could escape his parted lips, a sudden commotion in the form of resonant, overlapping conversationalists and a clamor of heavy, discordant footsteps rippled through the Force, cutting the brief cessation between the three of you like Bantha butter as you all honed into the interference to the Force’s eternal flow.

Despite the muffled nature of the disturbance, dampened by the training room’s separation from the outer walkway, the atmosphere’s sudden uptick in unregulated activity certainly gave you, Obi-Wan, and Anakin brief pause. For you especially, the unexpected shift from the pacified movements you were becoming accustomed to at the Temple to a progressively incongruous bustle beyond the dojo’s walls drenched you in wonderment.

Who could be walking down that hall? No Jedi, you were certain of that. Yet to the best of your knowledge, only Jedi were welcome within the Temple’s walls.

But before you could consider these sensations further, your inner reflection was cut short, namely by the distraction of a pivoting Anakin as he speedily traipsed toward the training room’s gray double doors. You nearly giggled when taking in his movements as you couldn’t help but notice how they resembled the unassertive dash of a youngling having already been told by an exasperated Master to slow down.

“Where are you going?” You asked as Obi-Wan too, followed the retreating Jedi’s movements with discerning eyes.

You spied his head tilt back, that steady, transitional pace never relenting as the young Jedi spoke pointedly at you.

“You can’t say you’re not just as curious as me.”

Inwardly, you sighed.

He certainly wasn’t wrong.

Maybe that’s why without giving it a second thought, you quickly jogged after him in your own indefinite skip.

“I’m sure it’s nothing to be excited about,” Obi-Wan remarked from behind as he started to amble after you both.

But even Master Kenobi’s uniform words did nothing to assuage your interest. There was something new and exciting beyond those walls, and you were intending to discover it.

You continued behind the young Jedi as he attempted to temper his outward eagerness as well, enough to hear a quiet admittance escape from under his breath.

“At this point, anything will be exciting.”

You caught up to Anakin once he reached for the entryway's left control panel, tapping it in stimulated quick succession before the double doors’ thin seam whooshed into an aperture, pulling you both by the power of inquisitiveness alone into the lofty hall’s cooler chill.

Tracing the vibrant, overlay of several life forces’ buzzing ambulation like latent breadcrumbs, your head swiveled to the left. You caught sight of the clatter’s spirited source before swiftly moving with Anakin toward the walkway’s immediate inner wall, hoping to make room for the approaching turbulence just fifteen meters ahead. It was a rather large entourage, composed of eight individuals engaged in a stifled tread down the lilac path toward you.

You analyzed the diverse group, noting that of the beings you could place, two were definitely human. One was a middle-aged gentleman with dark features and olive-shaped eyes, his expression emulating stoic patience and preoccupation. The other, a senior, pale-haired man with sunken eyes and aged creases radiating from the bridge of his nose as he spoke faintly to the olive-orbed fellow beside him. Another was a Rodian, with his attentive eyes, green-tinted form, and impatient expression. And behind him, a being with a tanned eye-stalk trio, protruding snout, and relaxed antennas— a Gran, and a peaceful one at that. To their rear strolled a reserved Ishi Tib, whose x-shaped, emerald countenance, and rounded beak gazed around in awe at the Temple’s steep architecture. The most notable, however, was the towering four-horned Chagrian whose framed sky-blue face stared on with barely restrained severity on the opposite flank of the elderly human. In hand, a long bronzed staff with a sculpted hooded figure as its head.

Soon, you sensed Obi-Wan slow to join you and Anakin from behind, enabling you all to uniformly observe the scene before you.

As the three of you stood in silent regard, you happened to realize that these strangers moved with greater elegance than the masses you’d encountered in the Uscru and Entertainment Districts, remembering how their lumbered gates and sudden skitters added to the atmosphere’s dynamic yet whimsical glow. But despite their upraised grace, each footfall still landed like desensitized raps while their darkened robes of velvety black and currant whipped about legs now leniently treading eight meters away.

Their modulated sophistication and elaborate attire seemed to contribute to that overall air of importance, you considered. These qualities could potentially explain their presence, and suggest their current permissions to be on Temple grounds, you mused. Though it was soon clear that your companions had the answers you were eagerly searching for.

“That, is the Senate Security Council,” Obi-Wan divulged lowly from just above your shoulder, feeling the subtle fluctuation of temperature as his warmed breath passed by your neck.

“And that,” you glanced at Anakin as he continued for him, nodding at the leader of the pack. “Is Chancellor Palpatine.”

You turned back toward the promptly approaching political leader and his cortège, surveying him with resolute focus. If your studies on Hoth and short time in the Jedi Archives revealed anything, it was that the Chancellor was essential to the Republic’s hope of enduring peace. In fact, it was one of the first things you realized in your preparatory studies for the Guardian role— that it would be important to understand this vital figure, appreciating it as another task that aligned with your duty.

But almost immediately, you concluded that he wasn’t exactly what you thought the grand political leader of a Galactic Republic would look like. Now that you were focusing on his comparably slower pace, it seemed that the Chancellor was directing the constant pull and push of their pacified yet hurried tread that would stagger as often as their footsteps echoed against the expansive hall’s soaring ceilings. He was weakened, his climbing age apparent with each labored breath and strained glance at the next political aid. This wasn’t the leader that your imagination conjured during those many daydreaming years on Hoth.

But then again, you were sure the stresses of advising an inter-world union through a war threatening the very harmony of the galaxy would be as exhausting and fermenting as he seemed to be. It was quite possible, that this recent conflict had merely quickened time’s aging disease.

Nevertheless, despite these reasonable explanations, there was still some discrepancy with his title and appearance that you were trying to place. Yes, you had a certain biased image of political leaders from your exposure to Republic lore. Powerful, commanding, unrelenting, which this matured individual could very well be. Yet, still, some incongruity invaded your senses as a modest helping of puzzlement etched its way across the forefront of your mind.

And apparently, across your brows, as Obi-Wan seemed to notice your confusion in his effort to skirt around the two bodies in front of him to stand securely by your vacant side.

“What it is?” He asked, sending you a subtle but curious glance as he continued to maintain a formal pose for the approaching posse’s field of vision.

This comment seemed to garner Anakin’s attention as well as, he too, peeked at your searching expression out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s just…” you paused, trying to find the words.

You dissected the Chancellor once more for a few seconds longer, taking in his entire figure as a tenuous realization washed over your thoughts before retreating back into the depths of your mind.

“He’s shorter than I expected.”

You caught Obi-Wan raising an amused brow as he glanced across you. Following his line of sight, you were met with Anakin’s pursed lips and cheeks that had reddened ever so slightly. The waver was brief as he swiftly hushed you with great enthusiasm, adding a moderate, yet covert, elbow to the arm

“He’s going to hear you,” the Chosen One whispered through gritted teeth while leaning behind your ear.

You lightly swatted away his protruding arm, but it was virtually redundant. Instead, by his own volition, Anakin quickly adopted an almost ritualistic posture for the Council’s slowing stride when he noticed the Chancellor’s features lift in recognition, a gentle smile creasing the older gentleman’s dried lips as he gazed at the young Jedi.

“Master Skywalker!” He exclaimed happily with a weary voice as he halted, stalling the pace of each being who loyally heeded his movements.

The three of you stepped forward toward the welcoming politician.

“It’s good to see you, Your Excellency,” Anakin announced in ceremonious continuity as he bowed respectfully toward the fatigued Chancellor.

“And you as well,” he spoke warmly, cheeks crinkled.

“Chancellor,” Obi-Wan politely nodded toward him. “I trust your trip to the Temple was as fruitful as you hoped?”

Palpatine breathily chuckled. “Yes, Master Kenobi. Thank you for your diligence in asking.”

The other human, with jet black, combed-over hair, striking brows, and a goatee, humbly stepped in, seemingly hoping to save the Chancellor’s energy as he spoke on his behalf.

“Master Yoda and Master Windu have informed us about the temporary communications blackout.”

“Yes,” Palpatine agreed, nodding toward the man stood beside him. “Senator Organa, the rest of the Security Council, and I are all very comforted to know that the system wasn’t damaged in some way. I was concerned when my colleagues and I were not able to get through to The Council using our holocomms. Thankfully, the Jedi have been as proactive as always in addressing these kinds of threats.”

Just as he finished, you noticed an air of curiosity lining the Chancellor’s faded brows once his peripheral caught your figure between the two Jedi. His tender expression turned toward you as he offered a kind greeting. Only in that second, had you noticed that his good-natured countenance began to loosen spinal muscles you didn’t realize were tense.

Politics, and all those who commanded that world, were foreign to you. Having lived on an ungoverned, albeit forsaken, planet, it was not something you came in much contact with. Well, besides your holobooks. So it wasn’t surprising that your senses were confused by their presence, you excused inwardly. You were always trained to be cautious in the face of the unknown, and that included the complicated world of diplomacy. You had known a Jedi all your life, but never a politician.

Yet Palpatine didn’t seem much like a politician to you. He was more akin to a kind old man. And that presence was probably what finally eased worries you didn’t even recognize you had.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he acknowledged.

Your cheeks brightened. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Chancellor,” you affably offered, presenting him with a bow gradual enough to quench any pockets of arid formalities. “My name is Silvey.”

“It is a joy to meet you, Silvey,” he exclaimed gently as you rose. “Are you a Jedi? Forgive me, but I’m not sure if I’ve seen your face before.”

Your smile remained genial, having become more comfortable with your assigned name and story in the face of questioning.

“I am, Chancellor. I have been on a years-long mission away from the Temple until recently.”

“Ah,” he vocalized. “Well, it’s marvelous to know that we have another Jedi here to support our Great Republic through this tragic conflict,” he sighed wearily, allowing his eyes to linger in melancholy.

You sympathized with the tender-hearted politician, offering him a sympathetic expression as his dutiful eyes raised to meet yours suddenly.

“Well,” he began with a greater punch. “I’m glad you’re using this time to socialize with Master Skywalker and Master Kenobi. Two of the best the Galaxy has to offer. Did you know each other before your mission?”

“In passing,” Obi-Wan piped up. “Though I’m sure we will all have the opportunity to learn more of each other as the war continues. Efforts to support the Republic often overlap.”

The Chancellor hummed sensibly. “Right as always, Master Kenobi,” Palpatine nodded toward him just before taking a brief yet lingering instant to rake his charming eyes over your complexion.

But soon, his gaze opened back up to the three of you.

“Well, I always wish to talk more with our galaxy’s greatest peacekeepers, but I must be going now. The Senate must be told to refrain from using the Temple’s communications system as soon as possible.”

The Chancellor angled back toward you more fully this time.

“I hope we will be able to speak more sometime soon. Any friend of Master Skywalker’s is a friend of mine, and I would enjoy hearing more about that mission of yours.”

You lightened further at his thoughtful words. “I would be honored, Chancellor.”

The elder gentlemen blinked at you kindly.

“And that goes for you too,” he extended toward the young Jedi beside you. “I’m looking forward to hearing about your adventures these past few months. Please, come by my office, anytime.”

“Thank you, Your Excellency,” Anakin stated in a reverent monotone. “I will be sure to visit soon.”

“Good, good,” he proclaimed. “I will see you then.”

As he released those final mutterings, the Chancellor carefully began his shuffle forward, encouraging the three of you to step aside so that his band of politicians could once again reinstate their gradual progression back down the walkway. You watched them for a moment, their darkened robes catching the wind of each mercurial movement in a fashion similar to earlier as overlapping conversations and knocking footsteps prodded the hall’s previously calmed atmosphere.

“Silvey?” Obi-Wan prodded from behind.

You tilted toward the bearded Jedi, noticing his stitched brows aimed at the Council’s ancient wrist comm while you gazed at him expectantly.

“What time were you supposed to meet with Master Yoda?”

Your nose scrunched in thought as he rolled his arm toward you, revealing the barely perceptible, flickering green glow of the chronometer installed on the device. And as soon as you registered the numbers before you, your face dropped in realization.

“Oh, kriff,” you mumbled.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened incredulously. “Where did you learn that language?” He questioned, disbelief raining from his voice.

The gears turned behind his stare for only a moment before his expression dropped into a sharp gape toward his former Padawan.

“It wasn’t me!” Anakin whined, waiving his hand in rebuttal.

“We had the same Master, Obi-Wan,” you reminded as your focus shifted to the task at hand. Quickly, you began your short expedition away from the duo, down the same path from which Palpatine emerged, before deliberately pivoting on your heel and continuing your trek backward so to address the flummoxed Jedi.

“Who do you think I learned it from?”

Obi-Wan’s mouth lay agape as Anakin barely hid a chuckle from your sight.

Barely.

“And you’re not off the hook, Smarty,” you called back at him while picking up the pace of your inverse jog. “Being the reason I’m late and all.” A smirk scurried across your mouth. “Better train hard to prepare for the consequences.”

You narrowly caught the giddy lilt sparkling behind his eyes before spinning on your heel to now hasten into a run, assuaged and nimble enough to be accepted within your tranquil surroundings.

That was, until Anakin yelled his response toward your departing figure with a levity so tangible, that you could feel it through his voice nearly twenty meters away.

“I’ll be waiting, patiently!”

You grinned.

—

Your dimmed umber cloak thrashed like a land-fairing scalefish as you swiveled down another one of The Temple’s many outstretched and interconnected walkways. Only after a few more seconds and additional turns on that emerald green mezzanine did you finally allow your long-hurried pace to stifle when you discerned a memorable sight.

Just a dozen meters away, at the end of the hall’s extensively columned aerial vaults, reigned a gap in the upper back wall through which the afternoon’s blazing sun of Coruscant Prime flared with greeting. The sparkling golden light encircled two large gray pillars that supported the downward ceiling’s pitch, weaved past the hanging sage-tinted signs strung from gutters to announce your location, and poured over the gray stone edging fence that guided travelers toward the bifurcated staircase entryways leading to the training ground’s lower level.

You had learned quickly from your first mistake, when in search of the Sparring Arena to meet with Master Windu, you became quite immediately, and hopelessly, lost. Plunged into the labyrinth that was the Temple among a sea of occupied Jedi who further muddled the path.

But this time, you didn’t need Obi-Wan’s help. You appreciated his assistance, but knew that if you had any hope of being the best Guardian you could be, you needed to become self-sufficient. So this time, you chose to use the Jedi Archive’s resources and your own free time to search out the training grounds as soon as you learned of your impending appointment with the Grand Master on this very acreage.

Luckily, your short detour from the day before wasn’t in vain, having shaved off a few extra minutes from your reliably inflating tardiness.

Once the end of the outstretched walkway was reached, you were free to follow the creational illumination’s natural path, swiftly swerving about the garden wall and jogging down the L-shaped stairway to the foundation’s vast cream surface in hopes of making this important meeting somewhat on time.

Instantly, were plunged into Coruscant’s afternoon heat the moment your nimble toes met the smooth masonry, temporarily overcharging your senses as you acclimated to the strange sensation that penetrated each burnished boot. With eyes squinted and cheeks burning, you gazed up at the Coruscant sky, a cupped hand elevated for shade as you took in the baby blue and blanketed snow-like clouds that did little to shelter you from the giant star’s omnipresent intensity.

Having spent most of your life on a desolate, ice planet, you hadn’t had the opportunity to feel the blazing passion of such a powerfully dense sun directly on your prickling skin. It was a rather refreshing surprise, but still something that was quite foreign to you. You were sure that prolonged exposure would drain your physical energy far more fervently than your former asylum, yet you found the sight to be particularly bewitching, and undeniably beautiful.

Dragging your captivated eyes from the fresh encounter, you strolled toward the training ground’s center, observing the outdoor setting as you simultaneously searched for Master Yoda somewhere on the grounds.

Having not seen the nine hundred-year-old Jedi in your immediate scan of the alabaster-tinted array, you instead chose to use this brief opportunity to absorb your surroundings with greater care. Praying that you had not missed the gathering entirely as you did so.

Sauntering forward, you noticed that the arena was rather spacious, split into three graphed sectors with either end acting as a reflection to the other. Glancing to your left, you noticed a segmented instructional zone of sorts, comprised of three rectangular cedar murals of varying size. One was in use by a small batch of Initiates, engaged in a synchronized drill of dexterity. An assemblage of blue and green training sabers pigmented each of their whirling hands as they moved seamlessly before their instructor— an older Cosian, if you had to guess, recognizable by his tufted tail and leafy protruding beak. Beneath them, each depiction was etched with smearings of white powdered chalk, delineating circular footing guides, you assumed, as the younglings followed each curve with precise gradation.

You glimpsed ahead, wandering further as you perceived two protrusions on either side of the training ground’s back wall. They were elevated by at least four meters and adorned with switchback staircases, enabling the structures to prevail as alternative methods for exiting the faded grounds. You imagined they led to additional gated walkways that snaked into the Temple’s belly.

Altogether, the expanse’s high-walled design manufactured a basin of sorts, accented by the flushed blocky jade lamps that dotted every hallow crevice and drew attention to the surrounding orotund panels.

As you tugged your line of sight away from the surrounding architecture to the patch before you, you couldn’t help but become enthralled by the figure ahead. At the arena's nucleus stood a markedly enchanting presence. One which pulled at the very core of your inner current.

A twisting tree, its thick trunk dancing into each curved branch, loomed expansively from a patio that unfurled below. It stretched outwards, each branch seizing the sun’s parting energies far beyond your reach. Gold veins with ringed motifs winded up its quiet body, seemingly powering the amber, oblong leaves that adorned each ligneous finger in calm bundles.

Nearly instantaneously, it felt as if the rooted being was beckoning you forward from its home just beyond the set paltry stairs beneath you. Even the steps themselves appeared designed to usher in all who desired to know its secrets, with the apical sill acting as a lure mere inches from your feet. Soon, the faint aroma of Cardamom swirled past your nostrils from his intoxicating figure, further drawing your attention.

In those brief instances you took to descry the blossomed flora, you couldn’t help but feel the need to approach the botanical feat, feeling a strange yet embracing wrest toward its sparkling striped markings in particular. It was before your mind could fully register the action, when a sudden yet gradually vitalizing string, tied from your collarbone to the trunk's base, finally commanded your legs to assuredly promenade forward.

As you neared the colossal energy, treading beyond the staircase’s final step, your tie to each neighboring aura swelled exponentially. You could feel the fluxing vivacity of the younglings far behind you, and the compelling yet subdued strength of their instructor. Another step nourished the stream, empowering you to pinpoint wandering bodies in the nearest Temple halls, including the assembly of politicians still making their way through its winding pathways.

Promptly, your ceaseless strides brought your face within inches of the powerful beacon, its surging vigor drawing your eyelids to flutter closed while you extended a gentle hand to rest on its glossy bark. As your fingertips met its silky texture, you sensed an instant surge of breath in the form of thousands of tiny little life forms, binding into the nexus. Even ones as small as the avian creatures resting on distant rooftops, or the fleck-sized insects that trotted along a portion of the far wall in perfect harmony.

You delved deeper, exploring these fervently fluid impressions with greater absorption when a new, striking and formidable spirit gradually entered the fold, their pace sedated though consequential as they approached from behind. But despite sensing this new presence, you encountered pronounced difficulty in separating from the strength before you.

That was, until you heard their familiar voice. One that you had not heard since the Temple-wide meeting yesterday morning.

“Discovered The Great Tree, you have.”

Opening your eyes abruptly, you severed your interlaced connection with the tree’s amplifying flow before spinning toward the raspy voice. Your eyes instantly met the shorter, long-eared Jedi, elevated by his relaxed stance against a curved cane on the ground’s main platform above. The moment you steadied, you were quick to offer him a reflexive bow while inwardly chiding yourself for delaying him further.

“Yes,” you rapidly acknowledged before just as soon faltering, like a misstep in your footing.

You internally cycled through how to respond to the 900-year-old being for a moment too long as you fought the steadily rising panic. This was not the first impression you wanted to make. But you still needed to say something.

Relenting, you finally settled on a phrase you used way too often with Qui-Gon in your younger years. And something you had not planned to say ever again once your journey began.

“I apologize for my belatedness, Master Yoda,” you offered evenly. “I assure you, it will not happen again.”

The pepper-green Jedi hummed in thought, offering the environment a brief silence before leisurely idling down the stairway toward your figure. “Believe you, I do. Works in mysterious ways, the Force does. Led you to this tree, it has.”

Master Yoda ambled to a slow halt beside you, giving himself scope to gaze up at the natural wonder. He must have relished in the presence of the Great Tree many thousands of times in his long years at the Temple. Yet his reverent appearance gleamed with the radiance of discovering its pure artistry for the very first time. You admired that insight, so, hoping to see what his sagacious eyes discerned, you reproduced his venture into the tree’s depths.

“I feel a strong link to the Force when I’m near it,” you acknowledged aloud.

“An Uneti tree, you see before you. Imbued with the living Force, it is.”

Yes, of course. How could you have forgotten? Qui-Gon had told you that story many times. Of how all his life, he had never seen a real tree before, having spent his entire existence in the industrial world of Coruscant up to that point. That was, until his Master Dooku brought him to see one right here on these training grounds for the very first time. The famed golden tree that shone from the sheer will of the Force alone.

That was this Great Tree. The Uneti tree.

And much like Qui-Gon, this was your very first time seeing one too.

“Yet your connection feel, scarcely I did.”

A nervous pang brushed against your ribs as you absorbed his meaning. You continued to trace the monument’s golden veins with a penetrating stare, hoping to hide the resurgence of this particular doubt that had been clouding your mind since your session with Master Windu.

Why could no one truly sense your mental grapplings of the Force? It was possible that the Grand Master had answers to this persistent query.

“I don’t understand,” you stated earnestly.

The Master acknowledged your confession with an esophageal grunt. “Powerful, your mind is. Protected, it is, against searching powers. Taught you well, Qui-Gon has.”

Though, despite Master Yoda’s gentle praise, you couldn’t help the new flurry of numerous questions that knocked at the back of your mind like nosy neighbors.

This marked the second time a Master could only limitedly sense your signature, even when you weren’t attempting to bury your presence. In fact, after many years engaging in Force Stealth in an abundance of caution, you had finally taken a moment, an opportunity, to reach deeply into the Force when you felt its swirling openness around this tree. It was just as you did a few days prior, when you attempted to open your mind to the stern Master Windu. Yet again, despite the Force’s overwhelming circulation throughout these grounds, a Grand Master only a few meters away could barely sense your interaction with its rushing stream?

It didn’t make sense.

What stowed further disquiet, was his phrasing. Did he sense only the minimum zeal that all beings had within them? Would he not have believed you a Jedi without already knowing your mission?

What you did know, was that whichever readings were emanating off your life force, they were completely unintentional. How such a muted perception could be possible without purpose, you didn’t understand. But you were sure that, like always, you could rely on your meditation at a point later on to guide you through this mystery.

“Thank you, Master.”

Too entrenched in his own viewing of the Great Tree to respond, the wise Jedi steered purposefully toward its unwavering trunk, cane pecking a few times at the stone below as he maneuvered to flatten his palm and brawny three fingers against its satiny skin. His eyes drifted shut, brows creasing while he connected to the flow around him as you had just done moments ago.

As seconds elapsed, a slight breeze wheezed past the region, exciting the Great Tree’s leaves and tickling its twigs as a few golden flakes loosened and snapped from the cooling gust, sending them vacillating down to the feet of each idler.

“Powerful, as well, your sensitivity is,” he continued while his bridge with the atmosphere persisted. “22,300 Midichlorians, you have.”

You spun toward the Master, jaw slackened. Somewhat attempting to temper your stupefaction, you spoke quickly to the powerful Jedi entranced with the golden tree before you.

“Are you sure, Master? That seems way too high. From what I’ve read, most Jedi have around 10,000. That would be just over double the average.”

The senior Jedi gradually nurtured a thin smile, choosing this moment to disengage with the powerful being as he retracted his arm and feebly circled around, extending his now-opened eyes toward you.

“Checked three times, we did. Positive that you’re The Guardian, we are.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, not just due to the skewed essence of your skills and your sensitivity, but by his locution.

“Is my role as The Guardian tied to my Midichlorian count?”

The Master vocalized his consideration through a guttural sigh as he shook his head at his own being.

“Measured your connection, I did, many years ago. The same it is now, as it was then.”

You nodded, remembering Obi-Wan mentioning the Master’s awareness of your existence prior to your parents’ deaths. Counting your Midichlorian count would certainly explain how you were discovered by both Yoda and your former Master, however separate their independent discoveries may have been.

But even after decades, after hearing again of his encounter with you as a very small youngling and when your parents were still alive, you couldn’t help the long-suppressed questions that still lingered infinitely. They were starting to bubble to the surface.

Who were your parents? What were they like? Did they look like you?

And what really happened to them? Were they from your native planet? And where was that? Was it nearby?

But deep down, you knew that these were questions ill-suited for a Grand Master who held non-attachment in such high esteem. Qui-Gon had warned you of that.

Though despite being devoid of the occasion for which to ask these questions, there was still one, relevant and nagging inquiry that ached behind your eyes.

“I hope to inquire, Master, but how did you know? That I was The Guardian and not The Chosen One, I mean.”

The Grand Master rested both hands atop his cane as he addressed you. “First the Defender and then the Chosen, the hidden prophecy says. Found you first, I had. As had Qui-Gon, we must assume. And born of a father, you were. Has not one, Anakin and The Chosen One.”

You tracked as the slope-eared Jedi angled to his left while finishing the last sentence, determinedly deciding to saunter back up the cursory steps behind you both. Interpreting this as an invitation to follow, you briskly moved, veering to stroll beside him and the hallow pricks of his intervallically pattering cane.

“I understand,” you confirmed while maintaining a measured gate. “I want to assure you, Master, that I will do my best to fulfill the needs of that role.”

An approving murmur escaped his gruff throat. “And as a member of The Order, you will.”

You casually glanced down at the Master, hope tingling at the tips of your fingers as you tried to maintain an impartial complexion.

“Gone through your Trials, you have already,” he recognized while his ambling progressed. “The nine steps, you have faced in those ten years on Hoth. Well-versed in control and sense, Master Windu says you are.”

Master Yoda nodded deliberately, a whirl of justifications seemed to flutter behind his rational eyes as he appraised some grand notion internally. It must have been something he was already considering, you decided, as those thoughts rapidly settled across his countenance, soon converging into one, adamant verdict,

“Grant you the rank of Knight, I will. Though no ceremony, may you have. Secret, your past must remain.”

You nodded, allowing that shred of disappointment to whither back into the trail of Force shimmering behind your walking figure. In turn, you endeavored to focus on the honor of your new title.

Sacrificing was part of the job description. You knew that. But it didn’t mean that missing out on the same milestones that every other Jedi experienced couldn’t still affect you.

But, as always, you projected objectivity.

“I understand, Master. Thank you.”

His head bobbed faintly. “A Master, you must still have. Extended his services, Master Windu has.”

You chewed over his words in the pregnant lull that followed, filled only with the light taps of his cane, your gentle footfalls, and the distant, echoing maneuvers of the younglings following their muttering instructor’s guidance.

It was impossible to ignore the surprise that bounced around your skull. From what you recalled of your short time together, Master Windu didn’t seem to be that fond of your presence. Sure, it was clear that he appreciated your professionalism and attentiveness, and you likewise admired his dedication. But you believed from his austerity and Obi-Wan’s warnings, that you weren’t exactly the one person he wanted to spend more time with.

This was, of course, in addition to the downright fact that no one, not even a Jedi as powerful as Mace Windu, could replace your late Master. He would always be your guide. Your own protector. And you were certainly not ready to give away that title.

Not yet.

Especially when you were no longer the Padawan that needed to be assigned a Master.

Especially, when his death still felt so fresh.

“I’m honored by the offer,” you began. “But I am already a Knight, and Qui-Gon was already my Master. I’m not certain if it would be…”

You gave your next uttering careful thought.

“Appropriate.”

An appreciative, gravelly hum escaped the wise man’s throat. “Understand this, I do. Loyal to your past Master, you are,” he remarked thoughtfully. “But maintain appearances, we must.”

The wise Jedi peered at you, injecting a sense of submerged understanding into the drifting Force that encircled you both.

“Always your Master, Qui-Gon will be. Act only as an advisor, Master Windu will, while you adapt to The Order and the war. But be your Master to others, he shall be. Your connection to Qui-Gon a secret, it must remain. Tied to The Chosen One in death, he was.”

Again, the Grand Master repeated that private affirmation of his head to his innermost musings.

“And distance from Anakin, you should temporarily keep.”

Your brows furrowed marginally as you inquisitively studied the peppered green Jedi.

“Master?”

How were you supposed to protect The Chosen One if you weren’t allowed to be near him?

“Interact in the Temple, you may. But important, a short separation on the battlefield, is.”

The Jedi faltered mid-step, prompting you to halt as he tottered to face your taller form with a pensive dip in the brows.

“Hidden, your true nature, must remain, from Separatist and darker forces alike. A weakness in war, the Republic cannot have.”

“But they must know of Anakin’s identity,” You pointed out.

The elder Jedi ostensibly agreed. “Right, you are. But clear to both sides, The Chosen One prophecy is. Dark the looking glass, The Guardian’s role makes.”

You observed Master Yoda’s eyes gently wander beyond your figure as he sketched some ambiance of lively motion to your rear. Tracing his line of sight, you rotated toward the youngling drill that had continued through your conversation.

A moment of calm entered the space, briefly interrupted by another crisp puff of breeze against your tingling arms as the two of you looked on. A distant bird of some delineation poured out an eddy of melodies, painting the heavens with peppy pleadings known only to its innermost heart.

As minutes slipped by, and the two of you stood in subsisted temporary reticence, Master Yoda’s trained vision endured on the premeditative, processional aerobatics before him. However, no matter his concentration, one fleeting glance to your lower right was quick to reveal that the Grand Master was still transfixed by his innermost ruminations, ingrained deep within his ceaseless exploration of the Force.

“Still, learn about Anakin you must,” he breathed heavily while both of you monitored the younglings lunge through an underhand swipe, followed by a summersault parry as they twirled around invisible, sprightly opponents.

“Assign you to Master Kenobi’s missions once the Jedi are deployed again, we will. Learn about The Chosen One through his former Master’s teachings, you may. Understand his past, you must. Know him well, he does.”

Your longstanding grasp of The Guardian’s journey was dictated by the obligation to always be by his side. To always be there to protect him from the dark forces he is meant to destroy. It was something you felt cavernously in each one of your bones.

But in this moment, you were beginning to agree with the Master; finding it just as necessary to dedicate yourself to comprehending his history. The past that molded him into the Jedi he is today.

It was quite possible, that you would have failed to reach this conclusion had it not been for this morning’s experience in conjunction with the past few days’ interactions. Compared to all the other Jedi you’d read about, Anakin would certainly be classified as an enigma. His past was far more sullied than the greats of recent history. And while you were beginning to understand him more than you originally expected, you knew that there was still much to learn of that realm.

Hopefully, Obi-Wan would have the insight you lacked. You could already think of a few questions that you wanted to ask him, namely why occurrences like this morning’s were not quite properly addressed by his former Master.

But with all that aside, you couldn’t deny the more personal reason for finding hope in this arrangement. A few weeks or months working side-by-side with one of Qui-Gon’s past Padawans was sure to aid you in your own loitering convalescence from his death.

Besides, you were beginning to enjoy Master Kenobi’s company.

You recalled the past week. How you felt heartened by the gentleness of his guidance in the club the night before. And how you were beginning to value that again and again, Obi-Wan never failed to lend you a helping hand when you needed it most.

You wanted to explore these sensibilities further, first noting how open you’d become to appreciating his humor, and how he maintained it in even the most dire or upbeat of circumstances together. Despite the frequency with which it was at Anakin’s expense. But you could easily tell, in those snapshot moments, that it was all the more evidence of Obi-Wan’s fondness for his former Padawan. And you were certainly amused, at times, by how he showed it.

Most importantly, you were utterly convinced that you could count on him in a pinch. He’d saved your life once, and you knew you could trust him to be by your side again. Enough to put his own life on the line to defend yours.

Just as he did on Hoth, when Obi-Wan precariously dangled from the shuttle’s jagged doorway to grab your desperate, nearly lost hand.

And that warmed you.

“I appreciate the opportunity, Master Yoda. I will learn as much as I can.”

The two of you swayed tranquilly as another gust of cooling wind tickled a loose hair strand against your ear. You embraced this moment to study the younglings who maintained a neutral stance, training sabers in various arrays of readiness while they listened carefully to the Cosian Master as he explained their next activity in a faint voice. He was quick in finishing his elucidation, however, as the younglings readied to lean into their dominant foot, setting up for the impending motion.

Suddenly, a moderately sharp throb cautiously nudged at your forehead, mildly tapping like a pesky, repetitive din.

You brushed it off, deciding to instead anchor yourself on the drill ahead. It fascinated you, the absolute coexistence of their movements, which flowered between them through their complete connectivity to the environment. The troop rolled into their dominant side, following through as the back of their shoulder blade met the floor and propelled them once again into a standing, lunged position, all while maneuvering their sabers around each wheeling youngling. It was quite impressive, for Initiates so young. It was a move whose complication…

Another piercing spear at your forehead’s center, this time radiated out toward your sinuses like lightning desperately squeezed to ground itself. Your skull brimmed with pressure at each subsequent twinge. Somehow, the once insignificant throbs were quite rapidly transforming into an unpleasant nuisance. So much so, that you couldn’t help but massage your temples in stiff circles as you strived to lessen the distinct sting in your observance of the drill.

“Well, are you not?” Master Yoda inquired as he seemed to sense your discomfort.

You lowered your hands. “I’m alright, Master. I think I overexerted myself earlier, and I’m probably not yet quite used to this heat,” you gesticulated toward the beaming sun that still, surprisingly, felt like a comforting brush to your exposed skin.

“Rest, young Silvey,” he advised while pivoting toward your figure, motivating you to turn on your heel and face his center-held staff. “Strong in the coming weeks, you must be. Sense a shift in the Force, I do.”

You acknowledged the Jedi’s wise words before tilting into a gentle bow, permitting your body to salvage any extra energy in its small battle against your pervasive migraine.

“Thank you, Master,” you rose evenly. “Your guidance is much appreciated.”

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Her Reign

a/n: Hello, my Fabulous Readers! Would you like to take a trip down Memory Lane with me? Boy, do I have a treat for y'all...

When I was just starting to write my fanfics 8 - 9 years ago, before I fell into major Writer's Block, and went on my forced Hiatus, I wrote this fic for a good friend. Because back then, she drew Steve fanart for me, and I wrote Loki fics for her.

Fast forward to this year, I'm looking through my old notes in my notes apps, low and behold I find a handful of fic ideas and half-written, unfinished fics. And honestly, young me literally had the best fic ideas 😆 I realize that they're basically my very own Vaults! They couldn't have came on a better time, when I want to connect to my younger self, and remember what it was like, when life wasn't as complicated.

Ofcourse, it's not completely the original story, present me needed to polish the rough patches in the story, because specific timeline when this was written, was roughly somewhere before Endgame after Infinity War...😅 And I also need to make sure, it's semi-accurate to the current MCU, for my own sake.

But still, I hope y'all will enjoy reading this one, all the same.

Loki Odinson x Y/n Y/L/N's Daughter, Lucy Laufeyson

Requested: No

WARNINGS: Loki's Death(seriously doesn't need to be a question😆), Abusive, cliché Evil Step-parent, Allusion to the abuse Y/n goes through, Lucy imagining and enacting revenge(and justice) on Evil Step-Parent, Lucy goes ape-shit, Loki would be proud. Story goes way dark(not GOT Dark, but still, pretty dark). Written by me, when I was still fairly new to writing, so sorry for the errors present Me isn't able to fix.

DNI Divider by @firefly-graphics

Enjoy!

Loki looking at Lucy from Valhalla...

It was a typical day for the Avengers in the Avenger Compound. Agents of every kind, rushed here and there, to finish their duties. In one of the lower floors underground, lived the Avengers. Each had their own apartment. But they liked to spend time together, in the common room. And today was no exception.

The room was full of chaos. From the sounds of a certain Captain's daughter crying, because she fell down while attempting to walk, with her doting mother and older brother trying to calm her down, to Peter Parker, Bruce Banner and Dr. Stephen Strange devising a way to make their tactical suits more durable, and more accommodating to the various shapes and sizes each individual, human, alien or super, has.

Lucy Laufeyson is among the chaotic bunch. Born and raised together with James Anthony Rogers, making her pretty much used to everything that happens around here, around her considered-extended family. She'd been living with the Avengers and her Uncle Thor Odinson, in an effort to avoid her Step-Father, Grey Wallace. Well, specifically to avoid hurting, said man.

From the moment her grandmother, from her mother, Y/n Y/L/N's side, had told her that she was to have a Step-Father, she knew that it would take a lot of strength and maturity. For she knew Gray wasn't a good man. He abused her mother and basically, forced her to have his child. Luckily, Lucy could never hate her younger Brother, Greyson. She hated his sperm donor.

Before Loki died, he had written a note to every member of his family. For Thor, Y/n, and especially Lucy. The one for her, specified that he wanted Thor to take his family to New Asgard, where he hoped to be laid to rest.

Once his request was fulfilled, she decided to take her father's name and use it to make a legacy of her own in her new home. Despite this, it didn't stop her from imagining enacting her revenge on Grey. She hated everything he did to her mother, and today is living proof of that.

"Hey James. Nice shield." Lucy smirked, it looks uncannily like her Father's.

"Oh, Lucy... Hi... I-I-I was just borrowing this from Dad." James answered, turning pinker by the minute.

"Calm down, Rogers. I was just teasing." Lucy said, playfully boxing his arm.

"Besides, I'm not here as often as I used to. Just for old times sake."

"Sometimes I wonder how we've been friends, since birth." James sighed.

"Come on... you know you love me, Cap Jr." Lucy smirked again, living for the reaction she gets, from her dear sweet James.

"Excuse me, Ms. Laufeyson, but Ms. Alexa is here." Tony's AI, JAKASTA, said.

"Thanks, JAKASTA." Lucy replied.

"See you later, Rogers." She added, patting the side of his pink face on her way out.

Lucy walked from the training room, through endless hallways, with Agents working and training, as well as the scientist conducting tests and experiments, of all kinds, to the elevator, that will take her down to the Lobby. Her heart leapt with excitement. She always loved seeing her Mother, and her younger Brother, whenever they came for a visit. Preferably without her infamous Step-Father, who in her opinion, descended straight from Hell.

A few minutes later, she arrived at the Lobby, where she knew the people her Family, would be waiting. She pushed open the only door, separating her from the Lobby, and saw her mother for the first time in months. Beautiful but bruised and slightly battered. Loki would hate Grey.

"Mom!" Lucy called.

"Hello Lucy." Y/n replied, looking up from talking to Y/O/N Rogers, her best friend since before meeting the loves of their lives.

Lucy walked a little faster and went to give her mother a gentle but firm hug.

"What am I? A chameleon? Where's my hug?!" Lucy's younger brother, Greyson, asked/exclaimed.

"Hello to you, too, Baby Brother." Lucy smirked, going in to hug her sibling.

"It's always a gem, to see you both together like this!" Alexa cried, tears forming in her eyes.

"We really need to catch up." Greyson said with a smile, taking Lucy's hand.

Sometime later, the family sat in a restaurant downtown, enjoying the food and coffee, while catching up and sharing stories with one another.

"And he just ran and ran and BOOM! Homerun!" Alexa finished, with pride in her eyes as she looked at her son.

"It was nothing, really. Honest." Greyson said, blushing at the attention.

"Changing the subject, how are you and your so-called 'childhood bestfriend, not potential lover', Dear Sister." Greyson teased.

"I told you the last time, Greyson. We're just friends. Nothing more. Nothing less." Lucy replied, as a matter of factly.

"Now, why don't I believe that?" Greyson muttered, under his breath.

"Shut up." Lucy replied, with a playful shove towards him.

"It's so nice to see you both getting along." Alexa said, wistful.

"I would be happier if that lousy excuse of a Step-Father is six feet under and never ever coming back." Lucy commented, scooping up some of her food into her mouth.

"Lucy-" Alexa started, wiping her eyes, before opening her arms towards her daughter.

"I mean it, Mom. He's hurt you enough." Lucy replied.

"Dad wouldn't want this for you..." She added, taking her Mother's hand, and rolling up the sleeve a little to reveal the marks hidden underneath.

"Sorry, Mom. But I agree with Lucy. If he hadn't hurt you, and continued to hurt you, things might've been different." Greyson replied, as Y/n pulled her hand away, and pulled her sleeves down, even further than before.

"I know three days ago wasn't the best wedding anniversary..." She started to explain.

"WHAT THE HELL DID HE DO THIS TIME?!" Lucy exclaimed, her anger boiling up to the surface.

"It's nothing, Lucy." Alexa sighed.

"It isn't just nothing, Mom! It's always something." Lucy raised her voice. Her eyes being drawn to the sleeve that her Mother, so desperately, was using to try to hide the marks from her, earlier.

"This is the last straw! He's been doing this ever since you married him. It needs to stop." Lucy announced, with finality and determination.

"Lucy, no. It's fine. I'm used to it." Alexa replied, unshed tears glistening in her eyes.

"I told you, Mom. He's hurt you enough." Lucy repeated, before standing up.

"I've had enough." She growled, before walking away with purpose and determination, with Y/n's and Greyson's voices calling behind her. Falling on deaf ears.

Grey Wallace was walking from his office building to his car. It had been a long day, and he was looking forward to having a beer when he got home. He was practically skipping down the road, until he felt like someone was watching him, from the shadows. Shrugging it off as paranoia, he continued walking.

He finally arrived at his car, ready to unlock it when he was forcefully, pushed against his car. His arms painfully pinned against his back.

"Who are you? What do you want? If you want my money, take it. I-It's yours." Grey said in a panic, words coming out in quick succession.

"I don't want, nor do I need your money." The figure, behind him, replied.

"Then, w-what do you want?" Grey asked again, shaking to the bone.

"I want justice for my Mother." The figure replied, a sinister smile slowly beginning to form on her face.

"I-I don't even know y-your Mother." Grey cried, before being turned around, and pinned to the side of his car.

"Oh, don't act coy, now... You know my Mother... In fact you know her very well, that you've taken to hurting her for about 5 years, now. Isn't that right, Step-Father?" The figure said, her face coming into the light.

"Lu-Lucy..." Grey gasped, not believing his eyes.

"That's right. And I have come to make sure you'll never lay another hand on my Mother, ever again." Lucy said, before turning into her Jotun form and punching her Step-Father.

Grey's world turned black.

His eyes burst open, and he quickly looked around in a panic. Remembering the terrifying sight of his Step-Daughter, before she knocked him unconscious. He sighed in relief, when he found that he's all alone in his Hospital Room.

"Think you're safe, Step-Father?" Lucy said, appearing out of nowhere.

"Lucy... Lucy... Whatever I've done to you and Y/n, I'm sorry." Grey pleaded.

"You think that's enough?! You think that sorry will take away all you've done to her?! To the both of us?!" Lucy exclaimed, her bright green eyes turning red.

"You're lucky, I only left you with a concussion, and a punctured lung. I would have killed you on the spot, had I not made myself promise Mom not to hurt you too badly." She added.

"Lucy, please I beg you..." Grey begged.

"Oh, now you're begging me." Lucy cackled.

"Like how Mom begged you to let her go, every single hellish night..." She continued, her features slowly changing.

"Lucy, you need help. Y-you don't look well. Y-you're blue!" Grey exclaimed.

"Oh, don't pretend like you care. You never did." Lucy snapped.

"Why are you turning blue?!" Grey shrieked, panicked, his monitor blaring at his increasing heartrate.

"Let me answer your question with this question: Have you ever wondered why we never told you about my birth Father? Why no one ever spoke of him?" Lucy said, lightly caressing the tube that re-inflated his lung.

"Well, the answer is quite simple actually. I'm the daughter of Loki of Asgard." Lucy said, turning full Jotun, and staring right into Grey's eyes.

"Y-You-You're the daughter of Loki Laufeyson, the one who invaded the planet?" Grey asked, trying to scurry away but couldn't. bound to the bed by the very tubes and wires that are helping him.

"Yes. So, if I were you... I'd be glad, that I spared your life. I may seem all sweet and innocent, but trust me when I say this..." Lucy added, slightly squeezing the tube. Blocking it from keeping his lung inflated.

Grey started to feel a tightness in his chest. Unable to catch his breath, from fear, and distress.

"I'm so much worse than my Father. So much worse." Lucy growled. Releasing her grip on the tube.

Allowing Grey to finally able to relax and breathe better and regularly, now.

"You're just lucky I made a promise to my Mother. Had I not, I would have done so much worse." Lucy added, getting up and leaving.

"Leave my Mother alone, or a collapsed lung and concussion won't be the most excruciating thing you'll ever experience." Lucy said, turning back to look at him.

"I give you my word, Step-Father." She added, turning into back her human form, her eyes glowing red for a second before going back to green.

Grey shook with fear, causing Lucy to smirk. And with that, she turned and left.

Lucy walked through the hospital doors and out, before opening a portal in the middle of the driveway and walking through it. Taking her home to New Asgard.

When she stepped out of the portal, her red leather jacket, stripped sleeveless blouse, leggings and boots, instantly turned into a long, green, mermaid style dress with a shimmering light green cape, connected in the back.

Her raven black hair curled, pulled back, half up, half down, and a complicated gold head piece with it. She walked to the kingdom, where everyone who saw her, bowed respectfully.

She made her way into the Palace, where her Keeper eagerly greeted her at the entrance. For a man, who was about 1,000 years old, give or take, he definitely could keep up with Lucy's long strides.

"Your Ladyship! The King has gone to Wakanda on business, but there are some matters of great importance to attend to." The man explained, pointing to the long list of matters, needing her immediate attention.

"I shall deal with all the problems one by one. I want to make sure everything is dealt with, accordingly." Lucy announced, taking a seat on the throne.

"Lady Loki, the people are waiting for you." The court announcer told her.

"Send them in." She answered, as the guards allowed the people to come inside. Which little by little, she solved all of them. Loki's Daughter, Y/n and Greyson's fiercest protector, Asgard's warrior, and Valkyrie's Right Hand, Lady Lucy.

a/n: I hope you all enjoyed it! Despite the errors, and the dark stuff... Maybe this'll lead me to upload other, more worthy fics in the Future.

We'll see.

Until next time!

❤ Booky

Taglist: @nescavaneck @jiyascepter @royalwriteroftheuniverse @femefetalelevelingup

[charaofthedead]

ITS D O N E

I WAMMIE VON WAMMIE PRESENT MY NEW AU

now i know what your thinking ... wammie what in the ultimate grilled cheese are you talking about?! ok so ill explain the origins of this.

so one day i was watching an undertale cringe cop re-living the early days of the fandom with my boyfriend when i saw a woman sans and i had a brain blast and ran to ms paint and drew what isaw in my head and then i drew a chara n marph and then i drew a frisk then a papyrus then a flowey then an alphys but i decided to line, rework and color the first 4 but while i drew and lined i was listening to an old song from my childhood days .. lil johns get low and then i had an idea why not make the au about things i had when growing up and then listened to another song called oh oh oh sexy vampire and then transparent soul (the song) and more and more and i just let my imagination loose on this one! i really hope y'all enjoy what i have so far i really let my autistic obsessions came out on this one

plot summary

the aftermath of a world where everyone came together to fight off and end a genocide route a reward is given to those who fought a choice is given a choice is made to keep the underground safe it must be hidden.

sans

MOTHERLY LOVE

so yes sans is a girl i wont explain in lore reasons why but just know it was cuz of sans fan girls potentially LMAO this sans is quite different from your typical sans she enjoys ice fishing she loves to tinker with things and is even a professional gunsmith shes also a bit of an artist doing graffiti so shes more MOTIVATED than a normal sans but their still lazy but lazy with a mischievous child to take care of aka chara yes in this world chara is sans'es kid this does have lore explanation but i wont say it for now abiltys:{redacted]

chara an marph

DORKS

chara is strange to cuz im not sure what they are i mean i like to think their a bizarre vampire but also more of a devil this chara loves to cause may/ham cuz their a they/them who was revived 8 years ago and was taken in by sans the one who gave them life chara is of course and oddball creature of chaos but chara is also righteous and has a heart of gold their also a mega lameo dork

chara loves to spend time i with their best friend marph! they love to draw they think cars are super cool they also have a shared interest with sans and that's guns and art and they both love animation but chara hates ice fishing but still goes to spend time with their mamma

(also eyes may change color depending on mood idk)

abiltys:{redacted]

nickname:rose

now marph is marph he is a box who marphs around he is just a lil guy where he comes from no one really knows marph loves chara their best pals and they like to run around and mess with people marph loves pizza its their absolute favorite! marph can also store items he has infinite space within his box self

frisk

GAY

ok so frisk is also an oddball they LOVE vampires to quote their favorite son "Oh oh oh sexy vampire I'm falling in love ..So just bite me baby And drink all my blood (oh yeah) Sexy vampire I'm falling in love with you" as you can see frisk dresses a bit oddly well see i was trying to make them as 2009 internet fashion as possible while adhering to my own design philosophy they look fine but it may be remade but its fine for now but any way frisk is also a big dork nerding out about sonic or invader zim writing fanfics drawing ship art of their favorite ships they also love old technology and their really good at DDR their a total nerd who wont apologize for being them self and encourages others to be them self too well along as it doesn't hurt anyone this frisk is a pacifist to a point they will defend them self abiltys:metal hand

SNOWED UP TOWN

snowed up town is like snowed inn but bigger more advanced more monsters more buildings some with sans'es graffiti on them and then you have the train on the save roof i just think its neat it shows how big this underground is

SNOWED UNDERCITY

snowed undercity is a big downtown area of snowed up town its like an old 80s anime kinda city pop place lots going on never a dull moment there the light's, the music, the coziness the new have to get ridge leading to it it's the only way to get there and yes its by train and then below you have the void stream of hope and dreams (temp name maybe) it is bottomless and doesn't to feel like water and yet you can float if you have hope

THE RAIL RUINS

the ruins of a long lost rail yard..? but why does it have a sky? how are the fields so long and unraveling how does it have life...truly a bizarre place as the train does not move and there are multiple cars filled with different items... monsters seem to live nicely here..why don't they just go through the door? the sense of hope hear is intoxicating the feeling of adventure is alive a sense of FUN is very alive here

MUSIC

sans's theme funny name cuz they a mamma who wanna protect their family

i would like to say that i used a melody from a song i like in the first half its from a klaatu song called were off you know and i used a zelda song too, song of storms too

extra art i did

you may draw these characters if you wish there will be more designs soon i h o p e

im unsure if this should be a comic or not or maybe it should be something else im unsure i have alot of ideas for it!

[sir--crow]

I drew my OC for bleach!

It's basically just me but in bleach's art style. (I dyed my front strand of hair purple like a year ago, and it's completely white now. I love it sm)

I used a drawing of Nel as reference and went from there! I didn't polish it all too much since I want to focus on writing, but I'm still really happy with it!

I also drew my OC's hollow mask!

Below the cut is an update with Will of the Heart!

In my fanfiction, the reader tends to use 1/4th of the mask, so this is what I imagine. It feels so nice to finally draw everything out!

Something to also note about my fanfiction is that, even though I'm writing everything in second person, there will be certain aspects of the story that aren't up to the reader.

For example, you can use your name since I will never write the readers name! However, the last name, Akira, will be written because of the plot significance. You can decide if you want to ignore that and use your own last name, whatever makes you happy, i just wouldn't be able to say 'the clan of your last name'.

Next up on the list of things I can't write around: Your Zanpakuto. The Zanpakuto in this story is essential to the plotline, and I've spent a long time creating it. I think it's really cool! I've loved being able to write this odd but special relationship of wielder and weapon between a soul reaper and their Zanpakuto.

That's all I can think of right now though! I wasn't able to write as much as I would've liked this weekend, but I'm still getting stuff done. a lot of the work I've done has been crafting the story in my mind while at work (basically all of the time outside of that too), because there are still parts in the story that confuse me. I've gotten through some of those confusing parts though, which means I'll be able to write faster.

Anyways, that's my little update! I hope that you're all having a nice day, and I can't wait to post the first chapter! :)

-nico :)

I keep forgetting to sign my name so that y'all know who I am 😭

I also go by they/them 🥺

shinji's gonna love a they/them bitch 💅

[sir-subpar]

A Dibper Valentine's Day! (1)

Y'all have been asking for this for a while, so here we are! Below the cut!

Dib fidgeted with the tin foil that was wrapped around his present for Dipper. It would be their first Valentine's day together, and he was nervous.

He hoped Dipper would like it, it was a classic Valentine's day gift but he wouldn't know for sure until later.

…

"Thanks for the help Mabel," Dipper smiled as he and Mabel assorted the cookies they made nicely into a decorative Valentine's box. 

The two sat next to each other at the kitchen table, Mabel "bedazzled" the cookies, passed them to Dipper, then he carefully placed them in the box.

Mabel crossed her arms in pride.

"Of course! My bro's finally got a boyfriend to spend a romantic day with!" She gave him a playful shove. "You think I'm gonna pass up on a chance to help you sweep Dib off his feet?"

"The kid's pretty gangly, a good round house to his ankles should make him tumble down no problem," Stan said, chuckling behind a newspaper.

"Stanley, please." Ford sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Stan rolled his eyes and laughed it off. "C'mon Sixer, I'm just kidding around. He's a good kid. You'd love him."

Mabel let out an exaggerated gasp. Squishing her own cheeks in excitement. Which resulted in her smearing frosting on her face.

"Oh that's right! Grunkle Ford hasn't met your boyfriend yet Dipper! You should invite him over tonight!"

"Yeah! Might as well let all the nerds of the house meet!" Stan laughed, slapping Mable and Dipper on the back.

"That's.. Not a bad idea. I'll ask him later." 

…

Dipper waited in front of one of the shops in Gravity Falls. He and Dib agreed to meet here. 

Sitting on a bench, he gently played with the ribbons that tied his gift shut.

Most Valentine's gifts were bursting with reds and pinks, but Mable decided that it'd be better to make it more "gothic". So, the box was a shade of off white, with cursive writing that read "Happy Valentines Day" in red ink, to give the illusion that it was written in blood. To top off the bloody aesthetic, Mabel drew little droplets of red to mimic blood spatter. 

Finally, the ribbons tying the box shut were silky black, which simmered slightly in the light.

He had to hand it to Mabel, this was pretty cool.

A shift of weight to his right pulled him from his thoughts. His startled eyes locked with familiar yellow ones.

"Dib!" He exclaimed, and threw his arms around his Boyfriend.

Dib took a second, as he usually did, to hug Dipper back. He didn't mind, he knew Dib was still unfamiliar with physical affection.

They pulled away from the hug, eyes meeting once again.

"Hey Dipper! I didn't keep you waiting long, did I?" Dib queried.

Dipper shook his head.

"No, I just got her a few minutes ago. You're good."

"Okay good. I was worried I was going to be late, I'm still memorizing the layout of this place." Dib scratched his cheek.

Suddenly his eyes widened and he jolted a bit.

"Oh! Uh-!" His eyes darted around briefly before he turned away from Dipper briefly to grab the gift behind him.

He handed his foil-covered present to Dipper.

"Happy Valentine's Day!"

 

Dipper was surprised by the size, and the weight, to be honest. The bottom of the foil tray felt warm to the touch.

Curious, he rested it on his lap, and carefully unwrapped the foil. With minimal tearing, he uncovered the present inside.

Dipper blinked in surprise. 

It was a turkey. Fully cooked and golden brown, seasoned like a holiday dinner. 

Dipper wasn't very experienced with Valentine's gifts, especially from dates, but this was definitely the least expected gift he'd ever gotten on "the day of love".

"You're uh.. Not allergic, are you? I should've asked, sorry." Dib's nervous questions brought Dipper back to reality.

"No! No! It's great, thank you. I was just surprised, that's all." He gave a reassuring smile. "It smells amazing, did you cook this?" 

"Yeah! I wanted to make you something special…" Dib's pale cheeks adopted a blush as red dusted his features.

"So did I," Dipper reached to his left, he gripped the box, and handed it to Dib. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

Dib looked at the box wide-eyed. "Wow, this is pretty." 

Dipper chuckled, "Yeah, Mabel helped me decorate it."

"She has a real knack for this stuff, doesn't she?"

Dipper snorted. "Yeah, it's all fun and games till you get glitter stuck in your eyes thanks to her sparkle bombs."

Dib cringes at the thought. "Ugh, I don't want to be a part of that, thanks." The two teens laughed.

Dip pulled apart the ribbon and opened the box.

Now it was Dib's turn to blink in surprise.

Cookies. Shaped like all sorts of things, UFOs, skulls, moths, even ghosts.

Hold on.

"Wait… you give people candy on Valentine's Day?"

Dipper looked at him, completely lost.

"... Yes? Pretty sure that's more or less normal." 

Dib's eyes were like saucers, and he stared out at the road.

He was right when he told Ms Bitters about people giving treats on Valentine's Day? He was right!?

Dib's golden eyes refocused on a still very confused Dipper.

Dib felt a familiar sting shoot through his heart.

Dib slapped his hand to his face in a (slightly violent) facepalm. Holding his head in his hand, shaking it in disappointment in himself.

"... Oh my god." He uttered.

Dipper opened his mouth to speak, a question on the tip of his tongue, but before he could vocalize it-

"I'm the weird one again,"

-Dipper's voice caught in his throat.

That sentence told him everything he needed.

He knew what that meant. He knew how it felt.

Dipper reached his hand out to rub Dib's back. Dib pulled his hand away from his face to look at Dipper, who smiled at him. In just that look, Dib knew what he was saying.

'I get it. It's okay.'

Dib closed his eyes briefly, and let out a sigh. Returning a slight smile of his own. "Thanks, Dipper… for, you know..." He paused, hoping he didn't have to say it out loud, "..and, thank you, for the cookies. I mean. I think I forgot to thank you earlier." He awkwardly rambled, lightly scratching his cheek.

Dipper chortled, "And thank you for the turkey. Most memorable Valentine's gift I ever received." He winked, causing Dib to snort.

"All jokes aside, this looks and smells amazing… Though, it's quite a lot for me." Dipper implied, this was actually the perfect opportunity to ask!

"Would you wanna come to the Mystery Shack for dinner? Eat this turkey with me?" Dipper offered, cheeks pink.

Dib's face also took on a new shade of color, flushing with red.

"Oh! Uh-! I mean that's awesome, but I can't do that. Isn't it weird for me to eat your Valentine's gift? Especially since I made it for you?"

Dipper raised his brows in a "really?" Kind of look, which went unnoticed by the still rambling Dib.

Dipper felt a new sense of passive aggressive determination. Time to pull a page from Mabel's book.

Dipper reached into Dib's box and pulled out a cookie. Dib paused as he noticed Dipper's hand. 

Dipper, now looking Dib straight in the eye, not breaking contact, ate the cookie. Dib gave him a questioning look, only to be met with squinting eyes and a mischievous grin in turn.

"Oh! Would you look at that! I ate your Valentine's gift! Guess there's only one way to get me back." 

They both stared at each other. Then roared with laughter. 

"I can't believe you just did that!" Dib said between laughs, "Okay, I'll go."

[thunderxleafart]

Hey y'all!  You'll never guess who got sick immediately after getting over being sick before!

That's right, this gal! xD Though thankfully it came and went quickly so I'm feeling better now!

All joking aside though, September has gone exactly like August did. And unfortunately I've just really not had the motivation for art. I've been in a depressive slump as of late, not just with art but in general, so I apologize for being so inactive. :( Though I have been able to doodle a few things here and there, I'm not ready to post any of that yet, if ever lol. It's mostly just comfort doodles and experimental stuff to try and get my groove back.

But I do still wanna at least try to keep this account alive, so I dug up this piece for y'all!

I actually drew this a good while ago now, I just didn't feel confident in posting it. But I was pretty happy with it, and still am, so you know what? Screw my anxiety, I'm gonna post it anyway! xD 

Ever since I was little, I've always had a soft spot for Shadow and Silver. And I really like them as a duo! Their dynamic has a lot of potential. Especially since they've honestly both lost so, so much, and both of them absolutely need a hug because of it. So why not let 'em hug each other? :D

So here they are! ^^

I wanna thank y'all for sticking around while I try to work through personal stuff, I really do appreciate it. ;; And here's to hoping I can get back into the swing of things soon and get back to posting my silly lil blorbos! xD

But that's all for now! And as always, thanks for looking everybody!~ ^w^

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Shadow & Silver (c) SEGA Art (c) Me! <3

[unintentionaloracle]

Okay decided to do another "rounding up my quick fire thoughts on stuff from Raw having seen it on Hulu" thing (I think I actually got like, most of the matches this time and Sami's segment, but missed whatever thing occurred with Liv and Dom/any other backstage segments that might've happened that didn't make YouTube [though I did see Becky's awesome pre-match promo on YouTube but they cut what came before she started talking], and I think they cut the middle chunk of the Women's Battle Royal out which is boo.)

-Jey and Damian's segment was great, we're gonna eat with that. Also Jey telling Damian to tell Rhea he said hi was for me and I love it.

-JD, my least favorite Judgey Boy tbh, y'all are on the thinnest of ice with the screwups, Damian in charge, and Finn MIA this week. You aren't even on the merch after all these months, man, you're expendable.

-Darn it I don't want DIY drama I want my boy Johnny to thrive. (Their match with Awesome Truth was really good though I'm happy with it)

-Also it was just tag team/faction drama/breakups(?) season Monday, dang with The Imperium stuff.

-Although rip to Vinci but Alpha Academy hurts me more ESPECIALLY CHAD BEING MEAN TO OTIS HE'S YOUR NUMBER ONE GUY!😭 I could excuse suplexing Sami out of his wife's arms in his hometown but I draw the line at insulting your former co-tag champ and your other teammates.

-Also I like their explanation for why Gunther isn't going for the title for a while/focusing on King of the Ring first. It's nice that he's not falling into the old "This Random Guy Was Slightly Mean To Me, Forget Any Title Ambitions I Need To Beat Him Up" trap.

-Drew was on fire as usual but yeah I agree the burger line was a no from me. Did like Sheamus's comeback and their "longtime friends" convo. I'm down to see what The Once And Future Banger Bros Bring Baby.

-And The King of the Ring bracket is looking stacked already. I do also want Xavier to get a proper reign after the last one he deserves it but my heart still belongs to the hypothetical Jimmysweep.

-Not too surprised they focused mainly on Sami's title woes but I do admit I was hoping for a "yeah, Chad sucks, Cathy. Listen, I'm kinda stuck on my boy Kev nearly getting MURDERED three days ago..."

-I found it a little funny Ricochet and Santos matched despite being on opposite teams. (Also oooh Damian you wanna turn face or tweener so bad oooh.)

-I did see Becky's promo on YouTube (love her getting a walk and talk like Sami and Kevin. That's squad goals). Thought it was cool and I loved her encouraging Maxxine. Lord knows that girl needs it between the Chad stuff and Candice's bullying.

-Hulu didn't show me Chelsea getting eliminated but slipping back in because officials didn't see. Heaven forbid women do anything.

-Really thought Liv was gonna take it (her gear was cute too). But I think this might be the last straw before she super officially snaps for realsies.

-I'm definitely in the camp of "Becky doesn't really need another title reign, she's almost done it all and what she hasn't (like Queen or Ms. MITB) she doesn't really need at this point either" (love her though)...

...but I also felt her last two solo title reigns managed to show some love to some of the women who don't usually get shots at the gold (Pre-beating Ronda!Liv and Doudrop!Piper getting shots on PPV against her while Bianca was kept from the title, using the NXT Women's Title like it was Raw's unofficial women's midcard belt), so who knows? Heck, we don't even know if she's gonna have a long reign, so... *Shrug*

[ardent-fox]

✨️ A Very 2023 Tag Game ✨️

Got tagged by my beloveds, @shinygalaxyperson, @look-i-love-u, @creepkinginc and @metalheadmickey to do this tag game, many thanks and warm beverages of your choice to each of you! ☕️💙

Hello, my name is: Lyds ✨️

I live in: Europe ^^

In 2023 i’ll be turning: 35 (I actually had to do math with this one, I can't keep up y'all)

Describe your 2022 in 3 words: Mournful, challenging, creative. In that order, I basically owe this fandom any positivity and confidence I managed to scrounge up in a while, for which I am eternally grateful.

3 words you hope will describe your 2023: Peaceful, joyous, (still) creative.

Something you’re looking forward to this year: Seeing my nephew go through toddlerhood. The possibility of my friend whom I haven't seen in 5 years coming to visit me. Being a part of all the happy changes my loved ones are going through, and hopefully getting to have some of my own.

Something you want to accomplish this year: Find my place professionally. Maintain my mental health. Learn Spanish and have it kick-off learning one language every year. Finish all my WIPs and start working on new stories. See the living room mirror design I drew up a while ago finally get made. I have many ideas and am hoping this year will be kinder than the last three were.

Somewhere you’d like to travel to this year: After years of not leaving the country, I'll literally take anywhere and everywhere. There's also a woodsy cabin that I'd love to revisit a 3rd year in a row, we had our honeymoon there and the area has become our happy place.

Something you’d like to do more of in 2023: (Re)connect with people, whether irl or not. Write more and blog more. Go to concerts and to the movies more often and take mini city-breaks as much as I can.

And finally, what’s your 2023 mantra? Worrying about it won't make it better, do what you can and let it be.

Not tagging anyone since I'm shamefully late, but here's a photo of Jasper and his elegant peets wishing you a hoppy new year! All the best and heaps of love to you all 💙✨️

[uselesssomebody]

𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 - eddie munson x reader

complete masterlist | stranger things masterlist | eddie munson masterlist

"𝕨𝕖 𝕜𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕒 𝕡𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕠𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕙 𝕨𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕖 𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕧𝕖𝕤" - photograph | ed sheeran

words || 𝟙.𝟠𝕜

summary || in which eddie finds a picture in the reader's locker

a/n || alright i dunno the etiquette of answering an open-ended request like this but i wrote @eddiemunsonfix's open-ended request/call to action. i read it last night and absolutely adored it; i hope i did it justice. ➵ i just hit 400?? y'all i love you guys toooo much; i'll create like a prompt list at some point this week (fingers crossed) as a little follower special. thank you guys for liking my work enough to follow me - i appreciate each and every single one of you

request || "Imagine you and Eddie haven’t been dating for very long so it’s all still very new to him but he notices you have a picture of him hanging in your locker at school and he just gets all smiley and flustered and adORABLE SOMEONE PLEASE WRITE THIS FOR ME"

warnings || fluff

"hey, good morning!" you lightly poked at his half-sleeping form, which had been slumping onto the library table the two of you were sharing. your first period had been a free one - and you were sure eddie was missing english for this, though no amount of convincing from your end had convinced him to sit through the boring lectures of mrs. o'donnell.

besides, what kind of boyfriend would he be to abandon his girl at her time of need?

"hmm?" he doesn't raise his head, but at least you know he's awake. it was, when you checked your watch 3 minutes ago, 8:47, and you knew for a fact he rarely woke up before 10:00, missing a large chunk of his morning classes. though, since he met you, he was quick to realize that that large chunk of classes were the few that you shared. since then, he'd been trudging to school early to sit through those periods with you - regardless of how tired he was.

though, you figured this was a solid arrangement for the both of you: he was waking up earlier and missing less classes, and you got his lovely company. of course, today that company was a little lackluster, considering his current, slumped state.

though, as much as you loved him, just his presence was probably his best feature during these - rather one-sided - study sessions. his input to your work always tended to come in rather long-winded book metaphors, or would branch into tangents about completely unrelated things.

you never expected that a simple question - more to yourself than anything else - about the structure of the government to lead him into a very passionate spiel about the failures of capitalism and the gory history of america, all supplemented by surprisingly good parallels that he drew from fantasy literature.

you'd listened to the whole thing, both enraptured by his intelligence and voice, and simultaneously in disbelief at the lack of his application in his english class.

unfortunately, that had come at the cost of a hurriedly written essay that evening, but you figured it was worth it.

you found your hand curl around the spine of the book you were studying, while your other one weaved its way through his hair, the black strands parting ever so slightly at the combing of your fingers, before joining once again. you had a fascination with it, constantly tying it up and the not, and you were sure that he similarly adored that fascination, finding a sense of peace settle over him whenever you played with his hair.

unfortunately, today that sense of peace came in the form of a snore emitting from the table. your eyes widened as you studied the slow, but steady rise and fall of his form, making you suppress a smile.

"good night." it was a whisper, as you went back to your book.

you guys had only been dating - should memory serve you correctly - for two months now. though, you guys had been friends for a lot longer, the both of you finding some solace in each other that wasn't really granted by anyone else at hawkins high.

you guys were different, sure, with your studious nature, mild clothing and soft smile a very direct and very visible contrast from his dark clothing and his held-back-for-two-years, outwardly scary persona.

though, you supposed that's what you liked about him. that you were the one to peel back his layers, you were the one to see his intelligence, and that you were the one to cherish his soft side. he was so unique, with a magnetic energy and a soft smile that left you feeling happy regardless of what your situation was.

similarly, he liked the sweetness of your tone, the adoration of your gaze, the way you'd do things like tie his hair up, let him sleep on your chest as you watched movies and hold his hand when you were stressed - without even realizing it. he liked to be loved, and you liked to love him - without any worry of what others thought of him.

when these feelings fester in a friendship, it doesn't take long for one - or, in this case, both, to be hopelessly enamored with the other in a way that friends really shouldn't. so, when you'd finally let it spill one night - you were absolutely mortified, sure that you'd just lost the best friend you'd ever had.

that was, until he took your worried face in his calloused hands, allowing himself to kiss you in a way he'd wished to do for so long.

since then, he'd been trying his hardest to be the model boyfriend, worried that - at some point - you would realize how huge of a mistake this was and he'd lose the best thing that ever happened to him.

everything was still so novel to the both of you, and, although you'd known each other for so long, it was hard not to feel as though you're being introduced to a new person.

eddie didn't mind - in fact, it made him ecstatic. he felt as though he got to meet you, got to know you, and got to fall in love with you all over again.

what's not to love?

the bell ringing signaled the end of your last period, as your entire class gratefully left mr. wright's painfully boring math class. you found yourself a little preoccupied with a test that he had assigned for next week, going over what content you'd have to study for it, when two hands wrapped themselves around your waist.

your squeak of shock quickly turned into a sigh of relief when you looked down to see his signature rings across the cinch of your blouse.

"god! eddie - don't-" he cuts you off with a peck to your lips, and your unable to stop your smile.

"how was mr. wrong?" it was a nickname for the math teacher after an incident two months ago, where he nearly failed everyone in the classes' tests due to an error he had made. the name had stuck, and you were just shocked it hadn't come along sooner - as it was pretty obvious.

"awful, but how would you know?" he holds his hands up - a playfully guilty look on his face. he'd gone to wright's class a grand total of 10 times the entire year, and it was something you'd lightly chastised him for several times.

your locker's being stubborn to you, and eddie's quick to step in and help; some of these lockers truly required a brute force to open, and his attempt similarly took a few tries. finally, though, the pastel door very creakily opened, allowing you to put your books away and collect your things.

usually, eddie would find himself twiddling his thumbs off to the side, or rambling about something or the other as he waited for you to finish up. today, though, his prior action allowed him a full view of the contents of your locker. he wanted to avert his gaze - although he knew you didn't really care if he looked in your locker, he still found it a bit of an invasion of privacy.

that's exactly what he's going to do, before his eyes stop at a picture attached to one of the shelves when you could keep your books. it was hanging on the shelf, allowing anyone who opened it to have a direct view of it.

he was uncharacteristically quiet, and you'd just caught onto it.

"everything alright?" you mumble, not turning your head from the books that you were planning on taking home.

"what's that?" his response leaves his lips as soon as your question comes, and you look at where his gaze lies, right on the picture that you'd put up a few days ago.

it was really cute - a picture snapped by one of your friends - you were pretty sure it was robin - as your entire group had been hanging out one late saturday evening. robin was a vocal supporter of your guys' relationship, bordering on the edge of sounding like a mom as she fawned over just how cute the two of you are.

that had prompted her to take the picture, wherein the both of you were sprawled onto the picnic blanket you'd brought, you trying to get some semblance of tan in the hot august weather and him absolutely ruining any chance of that, his head on your chest and his hair sprawled across your body.

he had a cheeky smile on his face - like he knew exactly what he was doing - while yours had a bright one on it, your hand resting on his cheek as the sun hit your bodies just right.

usually, steve would make some joke about leaving the photography to jonathan, but even he kind of gawked in awe at her perfect timing when taking the picture. you'd swiped it off of her, unsure of where to put it so as to cherish it best.

finally, you settled on your locker, liking the fact that you could get a good look at it in between your monotonous classes - especially on the days where you two didn't have many classes together.

you look at eddie to see him with redder cheeks than usual, a huge smile both present on his lips and eyes.

"it was from last saturday - remember? robin took it?" he did remember, but he assumed that you'd gotten rid of it, or that it had found its way into one of those drawers or boxes where you kept all your old pictures. but, to see that you had taken it and put it in a place where you could see it everyday made him feel like a boy with a schoolyard crush again.

"yeah - uh, you kept it in your locker?" you looks at him, unsure of exactly what he's asking.

"yeah, i did... do you want me to take it out? is it too public-" you go to grab the picture, but his hand stops you.

"no, no - i love it. you just - it's a picture of us." the last bit is a whisper, and there's a hint of pride in his voice. it makes you turn to look at him. he looks - well, giddy is the easiest way to describe it, with his eyes large and sweet and his smile stretching further along his cheeks.

"it's cute, right?" you mumble, looking at the picture with him.

"so cute." his voice makes it sound like he's exaggerating, but he's not - he loves the way that you look in it, and the way that both of you look. you notice his reaction, before also smiling widely.

"alright, let's stop by the general store before we get home." you know he's going to ask why, so you finish your thought, "we need to buy a camera."

eddie's quick to agree to the idea, wanting to see the walls of the locker plastered in pictures like that - pictures so innately them.

[starssgalore]

Baby please come back; namor x fem!reader

A/N: alright y'all, this is the last part. You might be mad at how it ends but trust!! It's better than what I originally drafted out. But there are new things coming. But if you liked things like this PLEASE like and follow. I love writing and sharing stuff on here and I want to continue so please tell me or show me you like it too!!

warnings: brief mentions of drowning, very emotional, very angsty...

tags: @rose-bliss247 (sorry if this is not the right account!!), @caroldxnvxrs, @violet-19999, @omgsuperstarg, @deliciousfestsalad

part 2 playlist updated! taglist

'I fucking knew I should have come, this is what I get for messing with a mutant god for 3 years.' The only thing you could think of is how dumb you we're, "No wHeRe nOt GoIng To nAmOr'S BeAcH." Should have left when you could have. But here you are, tied to a chair in a room that is all too familiar.

He still has that goddamn painting of his quote on quote, "glorious and vicious" battle with the princess of Wakanda. But nothing else has changed, the table cloth, the blankets and lights haven't changed one bit since you left. It was actually the first thing that drew you in when you first got here. Maybe he didn't change them because he knew you liked them. You wished he changed his kidnapping approach, almost died getting dragged down here.

"Namor, what do you want? I'm not gonna sit here and be tied to a chair while you have your general point their spears at me." For the last 10 minutes he's had Namora in the same defensive position, whilst he paces back and forth. "Silence, you no longer have any sort of authority here anymore. You lost that privilege when you left two years ago." "Authority?! Are you crazy, your people did not care if I was your so-called "close friend." Two years ago you kept me basically a secret and then asked me why I was mad being kept a secret?!" You can't believe this man, so full of himself. All he can say is 'you no longer have authority here.' "Namora, you may leave, go back to patrolling." Namor's expression was a mixture of tiredness and somewhat relieved, as if he's happy you're back. Even after he made that huge argument, he's acting like nothing happened.

"Namor, what do you want?" Leaning down to reach your chair, "I want you back." He whispers, his voice flowing through your mind like a familiar symphony. "You lost me the day you threatened me." Hold your ground, the last thing you want to happen is him thinking you're dependent on him. "This isn't an option, I've already told my people that there will be a new queen soon. I can't let them down y/n." Namor's proposal is almost infuriating, you wait years for Namor to tell his people about you.

And now when you leave he tells them? Fucking ridiculous. "What makes you think that I would even willing agree if this was an option." "Well it's what you want right? You said you wanted the people to know about you. So here I am telling them about you." A god who doesn't understand the concept of the past can't be fixed, shocking almost. "Namor, that was 2 years ago. I've moved on. I'm dating people, I hope that you move on too." "Move on y/n, I can't just move on. You were one, and I was just blind I didn't realize how much I need you in my life. You made me feel human again." His words make it so tempting to go back, to fall into those arms again.

To kiss his lips as if there the only thing you need, to rule by his side. Be his one and only, again. But there comes a time to be real and wake up from your delusional dreams. "Namor, mí amor." You caress his face, the feeling of his stubble underneath your soft fingers tips send a shiver down your spine, "I can't just got back to loving you. I would love to forget what happened but I can't, what happened 2 years ago will stick with me forever. It's best if we're just friends." The last couple of words you let out send a ringing to Namor's ears, as if he's gone deaf on the spot.

Coldness is all he can feel throughout his body, numb to the words you spoke. A stage of grief hitting his body like a train, he's lost you. There's no way your coming back, your just "friends" now. "Oh... o-ok. I understand." The break in his voice makes you wanna give him the biggest hug Namor has ever felt in his life, but if you do you'll fall back into that trance. "Namor please, please don't cry. I still love you just not like I used too."

None of the comforting words you speak to him will make him feel warm again. To fall in love with a mortal is a dangerous thing is the only thought I his now empty head. The world spinning so fast around you, body feeling dry, as if he needs to dive, deep into the ocean to soothe it's hunger.

"Um y/n, I need to go. I'll have Namora come back and untie you. I'll see you sometime again, just not now..." And with those last words, Namor out of the room and into the ocean. Your heart aches, the amount of pain you feel is too large. You never meant to hurt him like that, it wasn't supposed to go like this. 'It's ok, just breathe. Namor is fine, he is ok, he will be fine. You did nothing wrong. He's ok, he just needs to clear his head.' Namora finally cuts the rope that holds you bond to your chair, and finally brings you back to your ship.

On the cruise

The walk back to your room was slow. Filled with the conversation you just had, thinking about if you fell back to him, if you gave in. How it could have gone better. But too be in love again with Namor is dangerous, a commitment you're not even sure about taking. Sadly, your in depth thought is broken up by Kira's drunken state.

"Y/N?! Where the hell were you?" Words slurred together, "Sorry Kira, I had gotten caught up-" "Caught up in what Y/N? We're on vacation, you can't just leave me like that.." "I know I'm sorry it's just I need to like be alone for a second. I'm gonna go sit on the deck if it's still open." All you need is a place for you to clear your mind.

On the deck

Maybe you should go back, what harm could be done. Well you could drown on the way back, but if you make it there what's the big issue. You could burn the world with him, rule with him, be Namor's one and only. Just swim back. The breeze is almost pushing you off the deck, as if it's trying to tell you to go back. Maybe the wind was right. It wouldn't hurt, like to be with what you thought was the love of your life.

The recliner was just at the guard rail, if you jumped now no one would see you. Plus you could always call Namor, or he would eventually come right? No. If you jump off now you'll be stranded in the water and Namor would be too depressed to get up and swim to the surface to grab you and rescue you to shore. And if you drowned, he wouldn't kiss you on the lips to start mouth to mouth because he's so sad about you. Maybe going to the deck was a bad idea.

The only way to resolve this is to get off the cruise and go back to the beach. The only way this "idea" will leave your mind is if you go back, which is physical impossible. You know what, there's nothing you can do, just sit down and relax, is the only thought running through your mind. How can you make it up to Namor, or if you should even make it up to him.

Well, I hope y'all are good with that cause this is the end! Not the end of my writing but I have more things along the way so don't unfollow me now!!! But as always...

xoxo,

hoshi 💫