#i was a only a Little bit disappointed with that like significant seven rolls at the end because like the probability meant it was just free

[dimension-20-every-introduction]

Everyone Introduced in Dimension 20′s Neverafter episode 20 (finale part 2)

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 33)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (31) & Alexia Putellas x Character (5)

Masterlist (other parts here)

(Only a little piece of Alexia in here...)

((**Any theories on who Joe is, send me a DM xD**))

YFN woke around 8:30am, having a decent sleep after her long day. She’d slept the best she had done in a week, and the only explanation was the warm right-back who was now gone. It was a disappointing feeling, waking to feel her not there, yet was superseded by the feeling of peace and security that came with the conversation she’d had the night before with Lucy. Lucy. She’d be halfway to Barcelona by now. She rolled over and could still smell Lucy there as if she’d only left a few minutes ago. She must be so tired, she thought, hoping she’d be able to sleep on the plane.

She woke and had her shower, letting herself chuckle a little at Lucy’s blue toothbrush and made her way out to the kitchen to find a note from Lucy on the kitchen island.

Good morning, little one.

You have no idea how difficult it was to leave you in bed this morning.  

I ordered breakfast for you for 9am. I hope I got the timing right and they don’t wake you up.

Have a great day, please; I know I will now that I’ve seen you.

Remember: I won’t have a phone until the end of today or tomorrow… and please also remember to cancel the company car.

PS: I love you, and don't worry, you were too tired to talk in your sleep last night.

Lucy x

God, that woman. She pulled the piece of paper to her chest and held it there, unable to contain her smile. She looked at the time. It was almost 9am. Lucy knew she only slept seven or eight hours a night and had, of course, timed it perfectly.

She checked her phone and the first thing she did was respond to Joe.

Joe: Which do you like best?

Joe had sent a few links to cars.

YFN: I’m sorry, Joe. Please disregard. No need for a car. Do you have time for a phone call this morning?

Joe: Copy that. I’ll call in ten.

She went back to her other messages and emails which mainly concerned the edits that her colleagues had done. One by one, she approved them to be posted to social media. This first round had been a test for many things, one being the editing following the collection of footage at the games. She’d expected there to be some need for notes or changes, but she didn’t find any. Joe really had chosen some talented individuals.

Lumos group chat: YFN: Morning all! First round was a success! Fantastic job, everyone. The footage we’ve collected is remarkable. I’m happy for all of these to be posted today. As for the interviews, I’ve reached out for players approval and will post them once I have them.

Again, fantastic work, and a reminder to ensure we’ve sent the personal videos and photos to the players for their own use.

Our goal for next round is to post real time recordings of the game, goals and significant events.

Any suggestions, feel free to let me know!

The group chat started responding eagerly as a knock came at the front door. YFN jumped until she realised it would be breakfast. She checked through the peep hole before she collected it.

Lucy had ordered her an acai bowl, juice, and more of the banana bread she’d loved from last night. She dug in, hoping Lucy had a chance to eat before training. Her phone started buzzing and she dropped her spoon to pick it up.

“Morning, Joe.”

“YFN! Good morning, how are you after yesterday? I imagine you slept well.”

“You’re not wrong there!” She laughed. “It took a lot more out of me than I realised, Joe! But on a positive note, I think it was a success.”

“I think you’re being a bit modest there! I’ve seen everything and I’m beyond impressed. Whatever you’ve done to prepare all week was excellent, just excellent! And your interview with the Arsenal and Man City players? Brilliant. I know it was thrown at you last minute, but I really liked the way it was more of a casual conversation than asking generic questions. It really brought out the characters of the players.”

“Oh, I agree. Even if I did have time to prep questions, I still would have let them talk about what they wanted and just steer them ever so gently within the lines we wanted. I’m also a big fan of interviewing multiple players at once. They bounce off of each other well, even if they are opposite teams.”

“I was going to mention that! It’s the first time opposition players have been interviewed after a match together, yes? I love the dynamic. As for the other footage… I want to scale this up already. Did you want to talk about extra people to cover more of the games?”

YFN could hear that Joe was excited and knew that she’d give her absolutely anything she wanted. But that’s not what this conversation was about.

“Actually, Joe, I wanted to talk to you about something else..”

“Fire away, anything you want.”

YFN explained her meeting Mark at the charity event, about the photographer with Mark at the game last night, and then how she was followed. There was a long period of silence at the other end until she sighed.

“I knew this would be an issue, I just hoped it wouldn’t happen until later on.” She admitted. “Firstly, they won’t hurt you. Think of them as paparazzi. Mark is competition of mine when it comes to business, and he uses his PIs to try and get controversial gossip to undermine my business and partnerships. Saying that, I’d really like to apologise to you for putting you in this situation. Like I said, I hoped we’d be much more established by the time they came after us.”

“That’s a relief to hear, Joe. I’m glad they’re just that and not lunatics. I’ve dealt with too many of those lately.”

“Yes, yes you have.”

YFN hesitated. There was still an unanswered question there. “Joe… what did Mark mean when he said you would bring controversy to the business if people knew you were involved?”

She knew it was a personal question, and fully expected her to respond by saying he was lying. But she didn’t, because she was Joe and she was an honest woman. YFN trusted her.

She gave another heavy sigh. “Okay… okay. I think you need to know. It’s going to be much easier to explain in person. Are you able to get on a flight to my house tonight?”

She wasn’t expecting that. She didn’t care where she lived, she would go. Half out of curiosity to meet the woman, and half for the mystery. “Of course. I can fly from London or Birmingham.”

“Okay, if you head back to Birmingham today, I’ll have my assistant send you flight details for a flight out of Birmingham tonight. You can stay with me a few days. This will be good to fully discuss our future plans together and lay bare my hand. I have to go into a meeting now, but I’ll see you tonight, YFN. Great work again!”

The call ended after their goodbyes and it just left YFN even more curious. She truly didn’t know the woman, and the next few days would certainly be interesting to say the least.

“Lucia.” The teasing voice came from behind.

Lucy turned around as Alexia wandered over to her at the stretching station.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?”

“Because I think your London trip went well, si?” Alexia held that teasing expression. She wasn’t wrong. Besides the long day and minimal sleep, she had been in the best mood she had been for days. Alexia stepped forwards and slapped her face lightly like a proud adult. “The grin is back.”

Lucy tried to get rid of it, but she just couldn’t. If anything, it got wider.

“Thank you for your help, I definitely feel a lot better.”

Alexia tilted her head, giving her a cheeky look that seemed to assume sex had made her this happy. Lucy rolled her eyes at that. They’d definitely gotten a lot closer in the past few days, having supported each other through their relationship issues. “It’s not what you think.”

Alexia’s expression said she didn’t believe her one bit. Her head stayed tilted, her expression cheeky and knowing, and her lips remained a more subtle version of the Cheshire cat.

Lucy laughed and shoved her lightly. “I promise! We just talked and sorted everything out.”

“You feel better?”

“Oh, yes. You get to meet her in six days when she comes to Barca.”

“I look forward to meeting her..”

It made Lucy happy to see Alexia smiling. “And how goes your woman?”

Her smile faltered a little. “We have training-”

“Don’t you back out now. You had a plan.”

“Si, si. But we need to train and the game is Saturday.”

“Saturday afternoon.” Lucy clarified. “So there’s no reason you can’t go on Friday night..”

Alexia thought on it for a few seconds.

“Alexia, Lucy!” Jonatan reminded, pointing to the mats.

They took the hint and began stretching themselves out, both starting with their bad knees. Lucy’s felt much better after YFN had massaged it the night before, and she swear she could have come just from the release of pressure and feel of her hands on her. If only they’d wandered further up-

She caught herself and made herself stop. She was at training. She looked at Alexia who was now rolling her calf and thinking still.

“Would you like me to come?”

Alexia turned to Lucy, surprised. They didn’t usually do things together like that unless they were in a group, but perhaps it was time for that to change.

“Okay,” she said after another few seconds of thought.

“We won’t get drunk or do anything stupid. We’ll just go and have a chat and dinner and see if she turns up.”

“She…might not.”

“And that’s more than okay. We’ll have a good little date out, regardless, yeah?”

“Okay, Lucia. But only if you tell your girlfriend so she doesn’t break her phone if she sees photos.”

Lucy gave a sheepish smile. “She’s a lot better with her emotions than I am.”

“She sounds perfect for you.”

“Are we talking about YFN?” Kiera asked as she walked over and joined in.

“Si.”

“I haven’t met her yet, but Leah says they’re pretty adorable together.”

“I’m right here.” Lucy reminded.

“I know.” Kiera said, giving a little head pat. “But it’s more fun to talk over you.”

Lucy appreciated their relationship and how there wasn’t any jealously, they truly did want the best for each other.

“Are we meeting her this weekend?”

“Who are we meeting this weekend?” Mapi asked as she and Ona joined their ever-extending stretching line. Lucy looked at Ona who seemed curious at their conversation. She hadn’t had the opportunity to talk to her yet as she had arrived late, but she would. She made sure to give her a little smile, knowing it wouldn’t make up for how distant she’d been the past few days.

“Lucy’s girlfriend.”

Ona pouted. She wasn’t unaware of her because she must have seen Lucy’s posts on Instagram, but she still couldn’t help the look of disappointment on her face.

“She’s coming this weekend?” Mapi asked, completely unaware of Ona’s feelings next to her.

“Si,” Alexia said, sharing a look with Lucy that said she’d also noted Ona’s expression. Alexia changed the topic back to their strategies and training, a smart Captain manoeuvre around the previous topic.

YFN received her flight details not long after she’d finished her breakfast. Joe was definitely efficient. She was originally worried at her late flight time, 7pm, until she realised where it was to. Edinburgh. If she’d driven, it would have taken her over eight hours, so she appreciated the flight. Realising she had time to spare, she took her time to shower and pack up before messaging a few fellow Aussies about popping by.

Caitlin: See you soon, chicken! Warning: Kyra seems eager to see you. She’s in her annoying mood.

Erin Cuthbert: All good to pop by, bring snacks and Emma will fall in love with you.

Mackenzie: See you soon, I’ll let the girls know.

Caitlin had introduced YFN to Mackenzie Arnold, Captain of West Ham and goalkeeper of both West Ham and the Matildas during their dinner, and she hadn’t had a chance to see her play during the round so she figured she’d stop by to network and become more of a regular around the players.

She stopped by Chelsea first located south west of London at Cobham as it was the closest. Erin was right, Emma did appreciate the snacks, though she had to sneak some to the players when she wasn’t looking. She had a good catch up with the players and before that, she actually had a fantastic conversation with Emma Hayes. Emma was the manager for Chelsea, notorious for being hard, yet caring for her team. She was one of the best managers in the sport and had led the team to four consecutive WSL victories. When she spoke, it was slow but so excellently worded that everybody stopped to listen, including YFN even as they were alone on the sidelines.

“What you’re doing is so important for these players.” Her accent was rich and unapologetic. “I can’t say I’ve met Joe but I’ve heard of her, and she’s going to be the best thing to happen to this sport in a long time. If she’s chosen you to lead the way, then I know you must be excellent at what you do.”

YFN took the compliment with a smile. They’d been standing on the sidelines, Emma pointing out how they trained and worked strategies and weaknesses. It was all so interesting to her, and she assumed that Emma had appreciated her interest and questions from the compliment she’d just given her.

“I appreciate that, thank you Emma. You don’t think my lack of knowledge in the sport is a weakness?”

“Nah, not at all. I think that’s one of the reasons she chose you. You bring a new perspective. I saw the interviews you did with the other teams, Arsenal, United and such. They were a breath of fresh air to be fair. I’m sick of arguing with media.”

YFN chuckled. “Are they that bad?”

“Oh, sure. And just asking stuuupid fucking questions.”

Emma yelled advice at one of the players across the pitch who put their hand up in acknowledgement.

They spoke for a bit longer, really getting into some deep-seeded issues with media, and needed improvements for the womens game when one of the assistant coaches blew the whistle. Training break. Somehow, Emma had been so inspired by their conversation that she suggested YFN talk to the girls before they had a debrief. She obliged.

YFN had met most of the girls: Millie Bright, Erin Cuthbert, Hannah Hampton, Zecira Musovic, Jess Carter, Niamh Charles, Fran Kirby, Jess Fleming, the list goes on. She was actually quite surprised to see that she only hadn’t met a few of them. Emma gave her a lovely introduction and YFN made herself comfortable on a stool up the front as she dove into a conversation with the group about media and how to make them more comfortable. They had a lot of suggestions, even Emma looking impressed at their eagerness. They spoke for a good half an hour before YFN wrapped it up before it turned into too much banter and ate into Emma’s time. She’d written a lot of notes down and made sure to tell them to message her or come over for a chat at a game anytime.

With that, she took her leave for West Ham over at Chadwell Heath by 11am. Mackenzie was the first to greet her as they were on their lunch break. She was much taller than YFN who had to reach to the sky just to hug her, but she bent down for her.

“I’m used to it with this one!” She’d said, pointing to Kirsty Smith, her partner. Kirsty was Scottish and they’d been dating for over two years. Mackenzie had that sarcastic, Australian sense of humour YFN missed, though she was so soft around Kirsty. It made her think of Lucy.

They let her join for lunch, introducing her to the staff and players. YFN made sure to say hello to their manager, Rehanne Skinner for Emma just as she’d requested. There were only a handful of female managers in WSL, Emma had pointed out, and they supported each other. She also mentioned that Rehanne was a great manager, which was a big compliment from her.

The West Ham team seemed a lot more relaxed than the Chelsea environment, all with their own ambitions and goals. She was introduced around, having a good chat to the team and enjoying her catch up with the young Riko Ueki again who seemed excited to see her. Her most entertaining conversation, however, was with Hawa Cissoko who was a strong French and Malian defender, and notorious for her red cards. She was very vocal about racial abuse and asked YFN to bring awareness to it when possible.

YFN loved the dynamic of the West Ham team, there was such a mix of different nationalities and personalities and she especially appreciated Mackenzie and how she took care of them like a mother bird, especially the shyer players like Riko who was introverted and still a little shy speaking English at times. After joining them for their Subway lunch, and talking around the group for just over an hour, she was off to her final stop.

Her Arsenal girls were at the end of their training day, definitely slowing down and ready for the day to end. Kyra, however, was as young and eager as ever, especially when she saw YFN. Jonas drove YFN down to the field in a golf cart, dropping her off and she barely exited the vehicle when the young midfielder landed on her back, limbs wrapped around her like a spider. YFN was only small and barely managed to stay upright.

“I was told you’re in an annoying mood.”

“That’s rude.”

YFN laughed and hugged the limbs around her. “How are you, little sis?”

“Great! Can I ask you a favour before the girls get here?” She asked into her ear, her chin resting on her shoulder.

“Sure, mate.”

“At the game this weekend…can you ask for Courtney and I to be interviewed together?”

YFN paused. She hadn’t even thought about interviews yet.

She continued. “I don’t care if it’s in a group of us.”

“I can do just you two alone..” She offered. Thinking about it, it would be good to do a young player interview, and then a similar one with older players like Kim Little and Aileen Whelan.

“Can you?!” She squeaked and dropped off of her back as Katie jabbed her in the ribs.

“Chicken!” She was enveloped by the girls.

“Ew, you smell like Chelsea mate.” Caitlin said, scrunching up her nose fakely. YFN rolled her eyes.

“Calm down, mate.”

“We’re pretty much done with trainin’ today,” Katie said as she swung an arm over her shoulder and pulled her along as they began walking back towards the building. “I spoke to Kim and the girls are all keen for a chat.”

Although she didn’t have a favourite team, it was becoming more and more difficult not to as Arsenal had a lot of her heart. The players were all so free to be themselves, and she knew a lot of that was due to Kim and Katie who were the leadership within the team. They made sure it was a safe space and everyone could not only work hard but have fun also. Her chats with the group was more like a night out at town and she had to steer the conversation back to relevance a few more times than with the other teams that day. They all got along well, yet they all also had their little clicks that overlapped a lot. Beth and Viv. Beth, Jen and Steph. Katie and Caitlin. Caitlin, Steph and Kyra. Kyra and Alessia. Alessia and Katie. Alessia and Vic. She was caught unawares by Leah also being there, though she knew she shouldn’t have been surprised. Leah was already back up and running with the team, just not training fully yet. When she saw YFN, she came over for a polite hug and a few pleasantries. YFN could see she wanted to talk about Jordan, but they were too swamped by the eager girls wanting to talk to YFN about interviews, photos and such. She gave her an apologetic smile and made her way around the group for a few hours, or to be more precise, she sat in the same spot as the girls rotated through.

By 2pm she called it, saying goodbye to the team and collecting more than a few hugs on her way out. Her favourite though was the little head taps by Steph.

YFN was loading her work bag into the car when she heard a voice behind her.

“Do you think she’d be mad if I stopped by tonight?”

She turned around to see Leah looking like she needed some advice. “Do you two not have a day to catch up organised?”

“This Friday..”

YFN understood all too well why she didn’t want to wait any longer. “Leah… talk to her. Just talk. If Friday is too far away, then ask her for something sooner.”

“I don’t want to push her. Besides, you can be mediator tonight? That will ease tension a little.”

“Ah, that’s why you’re asking me. Well… I’m not sure if she’d be mad, however I won’t be there tonight.”

“Oh! Spain already?”

“No, Lucy was here last night. Edinburgh actually.”

Leah’s eyebrows shot up. “Lucy was here last night?!”

“Just for a few hours.”

“That’s why you look so happy.” She smirked.

“Don’t do that.” She laughed. “We just had a few things to sort out, as you know.”

“All sorted?”

She nodded. “Better than ever. I’m going to Barca on Friday.”

“What time are you flying out tonight?”

“7pm?”

“Okay… okay I can wait until Friday. I don’t want to mess this up.”

YFN gave her a supportive hug. “You won’t, Leah.”

YFN’S bag was packed for a few days, the peace lily Lucy had gifted her was watered, she’d cuddled with Blu and was just sitting down to an early dinner with Jordan as there came a knock at the door. They looked at each other confused. YFN shrugged and got up. She checked through the peep hole and sighed before opening the door.

“Turns out I can’t wait until Friday…” Leah said apologetically, a bouquet of flowers in her hand.

YFN bit her lip, thinking, and then stepped to the side. She wondered what Jordan’s reaction would be. Leah stepped in slowly and YFN closed the door behind her, leading her to the dining table.

“Who was it?” Jordan asked and turned around, freezing on the spot. Her eyes widened. She hadn’t expected that. Leah stood awkwardly with the flowers and YFN wanted to disappear.

“Uh…” Jordan struggled to find words.

YFN tried to break the tension. “Do you like ravioli, Leah?”

Leah nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay…I’ll get you a bowl.” She looked at Jordan and gestured to Leah as if to say ‘be nice’.

“They’re pretty.” Jordan said.

“They’re for you.”

Jordan stood and YFN watched as she walked over and took them from Leah, their fingers softly grazing over each other. Both reacted physically to it. “I’ll put them in water. Take a seat.”

Leah sat down as Jordan went to the kitchen to find a vase. “What’s she doing here?!”

“I don’t know.” YFN whispered back. “She said she couldn’t wait until Friday, remember?”

“What am I supposed to say?”

YFN looked at the clock. “We need to go in thirty minutes, can we just talk about football, then you two can do all the talking you want without me.”

Dinner was mainly talking about their days, and YFN’s experiences around the different clubs. It started off awkward, but definitely became a lot more casual. Like roommates having dinner. YFN didn’t realise, but Jordan appreciated her there for the awkward part. Now when she dropped her at the airport, they would have avoided most of that.

Leah helped Jordan clean up, working together at the sink to wash and dry as YFN collected her belongings for the airport. The car ride was funny, Leah in the back listening silently to Jordan telling YFN to be safe and message her if she needed anything. Jordan had been extra protective since hearing about Mark and his friend, as well as Kristie being a maniac as per usual. Leah hadn’t seen that side to Jordan much, and she listened with interest. They dropped her at the airport and YFN gave Jordan and apologetic look before she hugged her, whispering in her ear.

“She loves you, Dory. Just be patient and be honest with what you need, okay? I’m a phone call away.”

Jordan’s hug tightened, nodding into her shoulder.

“Also, if she doesn’t sleep in your bed, she’s more than welcome to sleep in mine.”

Jordan scoffed and pulled away with a grin, slapping her arm.

“What? You have needs.”

She turned to Leah and gave her a hug and Jordan jumped back into the drivers seat. “She’s just as nervous as you are, Leah. Communicate, okay?”

“Thanks, YFN. Fly safe.”

“You’re welcome. And I’ll definitely try.”

The flight was short, barely an hour, and unfortunately it was too dark to see Edinburgh as they descended through the clouds. YFN hadn’t known what to expect once she arrived, the only note in her flight details being ‘private car hire to meet at airport.’ She exited with her smaller carry-on suitcase and immediately saw the sign with her name on it. The driver looked professional in his suit and insisted on taking her luggage. He introduced himself as David and was a polite, middle-aged gentleman who guided her into the backseat of the dark Mercedes before taking his place in the driver’s seat.

“How long is the drive?”

“Just over an hour, ma’am.”

An hour?!

“Do you know Joe?”

“I do. I’ve worked with her for quite a few years now.”

“How would you describe her?”

“She’s a smart businesswoman. A great mother. A role-model. A creative genius. She’s kind and very well read.”

“Did she…tell you anything about me?”

“Oh, I know all about you, ma’am. It’s wonderful what you are doing together. My daughters are still young and love playing football. We need this exposure, so they have a better pathway and more incentive.”

He knew all about her? What they were doing?

“Do you know why I’m here?”

David paused. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Is there anything you can tell me before we get there?”

“That’s really not for me to say, ma’am. It will all make sense when we arrive.”

What was this big secret?

They spoke a little more during the drive, YFN a little tired as they passed the 9pm mark. Eventually they turned off of the bitumen road and onto a long gravel driveway. She watched as a large estate came into view, still very much lit up, the warm lights escaping through the many windows of the large stone building. If she had to describe it, she’d say it was almost gothic, though repurposed to suit an English ambiance.

David stopped at the front of the steps leading up to the entrance. He insisted that YFN go ahead, claiming he’d take her bag to her room for her.

She walked up the steps, not knowing what she was getting herself into and as she raised her hand to knock, the door swung open. A man stood there, looking just as neat and tidy as David.

“YFN, lovely to meet you. Welcome. My name is Benjamin, and I’m the estate manager. Please come in.”

YFN smiled and introduced herself, entering and found her eyes were immediately wandering, looking up down, all around at the architecture of the place. Although an old building, it had modern refurbishments and she couldn't help but appreciate it, but also wonder at its cost. Where was she? Did Joe have some sort of link to royalty? Nothing else made sense. Until it did.

“You made it.” YFN turned to the voice she’d heard several times on the phone and whatever she was expecting, it wasn’t that. Her mouth physically dropped.

It all made sense now. The company. The secrecy. The controversy. The fact that they’d never met before. Why she’d hired her, a writer, in the first place, of all people.

Holy shit. It can’t be.

[doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou]

Enough

> lady lesso x fem!reader

> requested? yes!

> warnings: hair pulling, self-destruction

> a/n: ah, here it is. writing this had me feeling a little bit weighted. i've been feeling like this for the past month, and i thought january will be different lol. on a side note, i hope this is enough! i'm sorry if i took to long to write this.

Sleep, eat, and repeat. That's what you've been doing for the past weeks. You've been in a constant cycle of breathing, and not living. And this behavior greatly stressed you out. Seven years, you've been in the School for Evil for seven years, and in those seven years you've been the top student.

Yet now, you couldn't even look at yourself in the mirror. When you did, all you saw was a reflection of disappointment to those around you. So you chose to do what's best for you– be present.

“Hey.”

Humming, you opened your eyes and saw Anadil side eyeing you. You couldn't be bothered to be angry, you've been sleeping in class for heaven's sake.

“The class is done, be grateful that Professor Manley only discussed the most boring lesson in the history of Uglification.”

Standing up, you gathered your things and walked beside the four musketeers– Hort, Hester, Dot, and Anadil.

“And what, pray tell, is that lesson all about?”

“About how ugliness fight off possible relationships, thus making us focused on life and not a significant other.”

Smirking, you rolled your eyes at Anadil's statement. “Well, what's the next class? Henchmen Training?”

Your question made the four teenagers stop and look at you questioningly. “You don't know?”

“Know what?”

“Professor Castor is out for today, so we'll be having Curses and Death Traps for two hours.”

Groaning, you pursed your lips. “Why? Did he say anything?”

Shaking their heads, Hort and Dot grabbed you by the arms and dragged you towards the room... of evil itself.

•

“You cannot possibly be this bored!”

“This is below you.”

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes and glared at the girls. “Don't be absurd, Hester. Surely you've slept in class before.”

“Correction, I have slept in all of my classes except for Curses and Death Traps. You want to know why? Because I actually care for my own evil being.” Hester explained. To summarize, the girl was really concerned for you. You've actually grown on her a bit, but she won't tell you that. With you being the closest that evil has a chance of winning, you needed to focus on your classes, and with you sleeping in Lady Lesso's class? You were dead.

•

“You!”

Jumping from shock, you put a hand on your chest while looking up from a cane and meeting eyes that held amusement and resentment at the same time.

“Any improvements on that power of yours, darling?”

Gulping down the nervousness, you nodded your head and stood up. Flexing you arms and rolling up your sleeves, you focused on making any part of your arms in invisible. Being the daughter of Queen Mab, the nemesis of Merlin, you inherited her powers– photokinesis.

With bathed breaths, your classmates watched as you made your hands invisible before slumping down in defeat.

Lesso gave a hum of disappointment, “Hmm. A little backtracked, are we?”

You avoided eye contact and clenched your hands in defeat. You were a disappointment for her, for evil.

Closing your eyes, you sighed and decided to wait until class was over. Though, you didn't expect to be awoken by a sharp tug of your hair.

“Wake up, despicable.” A voice whispered near your ear. You could feel their breath and smell the cedarwood on them.

Pulling you up by the hair, Lesso pushed you forward and made you face her. “Care to tell me why you slept in my class? Do I bore you, darling?”

Pursuing you lips, you touched the hand still in your hair and pushed it to the owner. “No, Lady Lesso. I apologize for sleeping in your class.”

With your hands shaking, you took a deep breath to stop the tears from forming. You can't cry, not in front of evil itself.

Frowning, Lesso took in your figure. You're cheeks were sunken with bags under your eyes, your eyes glassy with tears.

Cupping your chin, she made you face her gently. You would've been surprised but the atmosphere of the room made it impossible for you to feel anything, except disappoinment.

“Take the week off, darling.”

Snapping your eyes to look at her own, you saw sincerity, concern, and a little bit of... care?

“What?”

“Take the week off. We don't want our best student to die because of the school curriculum.”

Tugging your arms, she dragged you out the classroom. “Do whatever you want, just come back sane.”

Stopping before closing the door, Lesso gave you a reassuring smile. “And remember, what you're doing is enough. There's no need to pressure yourself, love.”

Then the door closed before you could even comprehend what happened.

Smiling, you wiped the tears from your face and left with a single thought.

You were enough.

[bruhstories]

Sticky, Saccharine & Sinful

Summary: Professor Jaeger asks his assistant to come over and grade some papers. Pairing: Zeke Jaeger x Fem!Reader (modern AU) Warnings & Content: language, protected sex, fingering, oral sex (female & male receiving), spanking, daddy kink, bossy Zeke, bratty Reader, tying up, bit of an age gap but no underage shit (we don’t do that here) Word Count: 2.5 k

A/N: Huehuehue guess who finally wrote a daddy kink smut? Also I have looped Cherry Cola by Kuwada the entire time i wrote, proofread and formatted this bitch, I think it works with the atmosphere

"Y/N, I'm gonna need you to help me grade some papers later today." Professor Jaeger pushed his glasses with his index finger as he looked up from his book.

"You got it, boss!" You nodded as you entered the staff lounge room at Stohess Uni, two cups in your hands.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Zeke?" The man sighed. “Or at least call me professor.”

"But I'm your assistant, you're my superior, that makes you my boss, boss." Sarcasm dripping down your tongue as you placed his coffee down the table. "All black, two cubes of sugar."

"Thank you. And yes, technically I am your boss, but you're, what, six years younger than me?"

"Seven and a half." You pouted.

You've been working at Stohess University for a little over a year now as Zeke Jaeger's assistant. He was the best philosophy teacher, as well as head of the department, and you nailed your internship interview, aspiring to be like him one day. He even taught you Ethics during your masters, and currently you were doing your PhD research under his coordination. The man was a genius in his field, and you didn't dare disappoint him, but your personalities always clashed. He was calm and collected, you were bubbly and all over the place. He was nice and polite, you were sarcastic and rude. Zeke knew you'd make a horrible teacher for children, but undergraduate students would adore you.

"How can you drink hot coffee in this heat wave?" You asked him as you fanned someone's epistemology essay to cool yourself off.

"It's actually been proven that warm drinks hydrate better than cold ones during summertime." He inhaled the scent of freshly brewed coffee before taking the essay out of your hand.

"Whatever you say, boss." You shrugged and gulped on your iced tea, a few glistening amber drops dripping from the corners of your mouth, down your chin and your neck. "Ah, shit." You wiped the tea with the back of your hand, not catching Zeke watching you curiously. "Why did the AC have to break down today of all days?"

"Dunno." He shrugged and immersed himself back into his book. "Oh, I hope you don't mind coming to my place to grade the papers? I don't think you'll be able to focus in this heat. Besides, I want to take a look at your latest PhD chapter." Jaeger told you absentmindedly, eyes glued to the pages in front of him.

"Sure thing–"

"Don't say it."

"Boss."

"Jesus Christ..."

You adored pissing your ex-professor off, but deep down, Zeke couldn't deny the fact that he loved the authority he had over you. You were a very alluring woman, after all, and any sane man would kill to be as close to you as he was, let alone boss you around like he did. And he had the strong feeling you acted like a brat around him on purpose. You took your leave after downing the rest of your beverage, going to the library to borrow some books for your own research.

•°☆°•☆•°☆°•

You rang the intercom and waited for Zeke to let you inside the building, dragging your feet down the hallway, tired from carrying so much shit with you – laptop, books, essays, papers, pens and highlighters – you were a walking, talking stationery shop and one could only wonder how someone with such a petite frame was so strong. Zeke waited in the doorway and took some of your things, relieving the weight as you sighed.

"Coffee?" He guided you to his kitchen.

"Water, please." You plopped on a chair and unbuttoned the first three heart-shaped buttons of your lilac shirt, tiny beads of sweat bundled up at your collarbone.

"You sure? I'll be keeping you up all night." Jaeger laughed. He was obviously talking about the papers, but to you, the sentence had a different innuendo — not that you minded, you had your fair share of sinful fantasies with the older man. Come to think of it, you were wondering why he was single. Zeke was undoubtedly an attractive man, he could have any woman he wanted. Yet you’ve never seen him on a date, never seen a picture of a woman when you accidentally glanced at his phone, never heard him talk about a significant other.

"Hey, mind if I smoke?" You asked, noticing the ashtray on his table.

"Not at all, I'll join you." He sat opposite you, mug of coffee in his hand. You pulled out a pack of pink cigarettes from your backpack and placed one between your lips, pocketing your jeans for a lighter. His hand extended over the table, lighter in his hand, and you slightly bent your head forward, eyes glued to his. You inhaled the smoke, not breaking eye contact, and exhaled with a sigh. Something about Zeke lighting up your cigarette made your little cunt tingle.

"Thanks, boss." The corners of your lips turned into a barely visible smirk. You really, really liked to tick him off.

"Don't mention it." He told you before lighting his own cigarette. What, no comeback? No objection? "How's your paper going?"

"It's... going." You shrugged.

"You haven't written anything in your last chapter, have you?"

"No, I have," you half-whined, "it's just that I can't find my words. I think I encountered writer's block."

"'S alright, we'll figure something out." Zeke pulled a stack of papers from his briefcase and dropped it on the table.

"Wow, no shit you need help, that's a lot of papers." You twirled the cigarette between your fingers before taking one final puff and crushing it in the glass ashtray.

"Told you." He picked his resting cigarette back from the ashtray. "You can do the first years."

"I'd rather do something else." You whispered to yourself, eyes almost rolling at the back of your head.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, boss. First years, got it." Your manicured fingers pulled the stack of papers closer to you. The exams were already annotated according to subject and year and you took everything you needed before shoving them back to Zeke.

•°☆°•☆•°☆°•

You were bored out of your mind, fiddling with the red pen in your hand and tapping your fingers on the table with no particular rhythm. It was already dark outside and you barely finished a quarter of your stack while Zeke was halfway through his.

"Could you please stop that?" He asked you without even bothering to look at you.

"Why?"

"It's annoying."

With a groan you rolled your eyes and stopped tapping your fingers, instead opting to fidget your leg, bouncing it up and down under the table. The wooden furniture shook at the movement and Zeke sighed, putting the pen down.

"I understand you're bored, but if you want to be a professor, this is part of the job description."

"I know, I know, but, like, can we take a break? Please? We've been at it for two and a half hours now and I'm just so bored." You looked at him with puppy eyes and a pout on your plump lips.

"Ugh, fine. What do you want to do?"

"I dunno. Got any board games?"

"Only a pack of playing cards." Zeke shrugged.

"Perfect! Literally anything is better than this. I mean look at what this kid wrote: the ship of Theseus ARE a thought experiment. Can you believe it? How can a nineteen-year-old not know proper grammar?"

"Careful, Y/N," he chuckled, "you made a pretty embarrassing error during your masters, too."

"Nooo, don't bring that up!" You got up and walked to the freezer, scanning the contents.

"Why not? It's funny."

"Yeah, for you." You rolled your eyes. "But I still proved my worth." You triumphantly told him, tongue playfully poking out of your mouth from behind the freezer door. Ugh, you were so cute, made to be ravaged. Your eyes settled on the single raspberry popsicle and you picked it up, closing back the door. "Can I have this?" Oh, he knew exactly what you were doing.

"Of course."

With Zeke's approval, you unwrapped the plastic, revealing the rose-tinted dessert, swirling your tongue around its tip. You were a sight for sore eyes, (not so) innocently licking at the popsicle, your gaze on him and his growing bulge. He didn't even bother hiding it, instead relaxing in the chair and drinking you in. It was no mistake that Zeke invited you over, and you weren't stupid enough to believe it was a mistake.

"Do you... want some?" You trailed off as the once cold dessert began melting from your hot lips.

"If you'd be so kind." He patted his lap and you accepted the invitation. His bulge was comfortably uncomfortable against your ass, and you put the popsicle onto his lips, one arm draped around his shoulder. Zeke's tongue moved languidly around the sweet snack and you leaned in, your own tongue licking both the dessert and his lips. It was sticky and saccharine and sinful, and your poor pussy couldn't take it anymore.

"Do you wanna fuck me, daddy?" You naively asked him. He wasn't surprised in the slightest by the name, already suspecting you had daddy issues, in fact counting on it.

"I very much do." His hands were already roaming your body. The popsicle was almost gone, and you deepthroated the last bit, taking the little stick out of your mouth with a pop. Finally, he crushed his lips onto yours and you could tell he had experience. You dropped the stick on the tiled floor, twisting your body to better straddle him. Zeke unbuttoned your shirt as you slowly began grinding your hips against his bulge, earning a groan from him. "Ugh, you bad girl." He threw his head back as you loosened the tie around his neck.

"Are you going to punish me?" You slowly, too slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

"What’s the point of a punishment if you’re going to enjoy it?" He mused, unclasping your bra. You had goosebumps all over your skin and Zeke took one of your nipples in his hot mouth, a hand pinching your other one. You whimpered at the slight stinging sensation

"Does it m-matter if I enjoy it?" His touch became rougher, almost animalistic.

"Of course," he stopped sucking your swollen, oversensitive nipple, "otherwise you won't learn your lesson." You got up and turned around, your back against him, taking your jeans and underwear off, bending down and exposing your cunt to him. "You're going to be the death of me, Y/N." Zeke shook his head, removing his own trousers.

"Allow me." You tucked your fingers behind the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down as you kneeled in front of him. His throbbing cock tapped your face after finally being unleashed from its textile cage.

"I suspected you were big, but this? This is too good." You sneered at his member, mesmerised by its size.

"Just shut up and suck it." Zeke pretty much commanded you and you wet your lips, pressing your tongue against the velvety tip. You worked your way around his shaft, enjoying this more than you should've. You pulled back, a string of saliva and precum attached to your lips as you looked up at him.

"Am I doing good, daddy?"

"So good." He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pushed your head back. You eagerly sucked and slurped until he got bored of your mouth around his cock. Zeke pulled you up, spun you around and bent you over the table. He brought your wrists together and tied them up behind your back with his tie before taking a step back and admiring the view. Ass up, face down, just like he loved it. His foot pushed yours to the side, spreading your legs for him before he gave you a good slap over your ass cheeks. You shot up with a moan but his hand forced you back down against the table.

"I think I know exactly how to punish you." Zeke announced, two fingers spreading your folds as his tongue dove inside of you, lapping at your wet cunt.

"Oh, God!" You groaned in pleasure. No man has ever eaten you out like he did. Most guys did it as a chore. Zeke? He was enjoying every single bit of it, passionately fingering you, his tongue moving in ways you didn't think were possible. "Ah, fuck– so good! Daddy, please! I'm coming!"

The way he venomously laughed told you that no, you were not going to come any time soon. Just as you were about to let loose, Zeke stopped, removing his fingers, another slap on your ass. Tears pooled at your Y/E/C eyes, frustration written all over your face. "No, no, no!"

"I told you, Y/N, you're a bad, bad girl." He bent over and whispered in your ear, his cock pressing against your entrance, his hand in your hair.

"Oh, pleaseee, I need to come! Will you let me come?"

"Hm, it depends." Jaeger straightened his back, hands resting on your hips. "Did you learn your lesson?"

"Yes, yes, daddy, I did! I promise I'll be good!" You tried to turn around to look at him, oblivious to what he was doing behind your back, cheeks crimson, droplets of sweat on your forehead.

"Convincing enough." He shrugged and you heard the condom snap against his cock.  Unexpectedly and without any warning, the man thrusted into your wet cunt and you, again, shot up, but he pinned you back. "Stay fucking put, you little whore." Zeke demanded and you tried, you really tried, but your body had a mind of its own. "I see you refuse to learn."

"No, no, please!" You slammed your face onto the table, squishing your cheek in the process, desperate and helpless.

"That's better." He concluded, sarcasm dripping down his tongue as he rammed his cock deeper into you. The silken walls clenched around his hard member, and he grunted, no other woman pleasing him like your tight pussy did. "You like it when I take you from behind, you filthy slut?"

"Yes– oh my God, YES!" You bucked your hips against his for more pressure and pain.

"What would my students think if they saw you getting fucked like this on their papers?"

"Ah– I don't c-care!"

"What would the headmaster say if she knew you fuck your superior and- ugh- coordinator?" Jaeger thrusted harder and faster.

"Please, Zeke-"

His hand found its way to your neck, tightly squeezing it.

"Wrong name, Y/N."

"Shit, daddy!"

"That's right, I'm your fucking daddy and hell will freeze before someone else fucking touches you!"

"Fuc-k, fuuuck!" You both howled and panted as you climaxed, your entire bodies quivering. Zeke pulled out of you, carefully removing the rubber from his cock and giving you another slap on your perky ass cheeks. You stood up, arms still tied around your back, turned on your heels and pecked him on his cheek, giggling like a schoolgirl, marvelled by the fact that he chose you over anyone else.

"You know what, Y/N? Now that I've found you, I'm never going to let you go." He promised.

"I'm all yours, boss."

[hoonloveclub]

appreciation moment

bestfriends!enhypen x gn!reader (fluff!!!!)

a/n: finally finished this after it being in my drafts for a while! i hope this made you guys smile and let me know if you guys like the style :DD

word count: 1.2k

warnings: nothing just a few curse words :)

fuck elevators and their need for maintenance

out of breath and ten minutes later than planned, your hands are heavy with full bags containing a plethora of chips, ramen, a ton of candy, and eight (very heavy) drinks, as you bang on the door to the boys’ dorm.

“guys let me in 20 cube i’m about to turn around and never come back if you don’t in the next five seconds! my arms are a millisecond away from falling off!”

that was not an exaggeration. okay just kidding, maybe it was. a little.

raising your heels off the ground, in an attempt to peek into the peephole, you’re met with one, sole, magnified eyeball.

“y/n we all know you won’t have any other friends to hang out with if you do” a singsong-y voice and owner of mentioned eyeball, jungwon, cheekily refutes.

“shut up won, and i don’t know, open the door while you’re at it” 

knowing his statement wasn’t far from the truth, you would do anything for your seven dear (annoying) friends, even climbing nine flights of stairs, but that was the last thing you needed them to know

as the door swings open you’re met with a smiling jungwon and an overly excited niki

“Y/NNNN” all the bags crash down as niki crashes into you, towering over you with his long limbs, any bitterness previously on your mind long gone

you swear he wasn’t this tall the last time you saw him but maybe your eyes were just deceiving you

“niki did you really miss me that much you big baby” you roll your eyes, contrary, a smile graces your features

he laughs, playfully pulling at your cheeks

“eyy are you saying you didn’t miss me” he points at your face, a sly smile emerging

“touché” you laugh, patting his cheek in endearment, “where’s everyone else at?”

"they’re-”

“Y/N-IEEEE MY BABY”

“OH Y/N YOU GOT THE GOOD GOODS”

“YES HOW’D YOU KNOW I WAS CRAVING GUMMIES”

speaking all over each other, you realized how long it had been since you last saw them

“i missed you guys”

“AWW DID YOU GUYS HEAR THAT, Y/N MISSED US” heeseung holds his chest dramatically, expressing how touched he was at your sudden confession

regretting your words almost immediately, you cover your face in embarrassment and playfully push hee’s arm “i take it back”

heeseung holds back his laugh

“it’s okay y/n we missed you too” sunghoon sweetly assures, nudging your leg from across your seat

replying with a quick “this is why you’re my favorite” hoon beams with giddiness, the cute dimple you adored appearing on his cheek

movie nights were a weekly occurrence between you and the seven, but due to busy schedules, the past month’s movie nights were, to everyone’s dismay, all cancelled

“okay so what do you guys want to watch tonight” sunghoon asked cheerily, sipping a bit of a sweet latte you bought specifically for him, knowing it was his favorite

you were munching on a mix of ruffles, hot cheetos, and m&ms, niki sprawled on your lap to the right of you, and jay clinging to the arm on your left as jay pipes up, “i was actually thinking something light hearted like, i don’t know, high school musical?”

after a month of nonstop work you were ready to relax (aka jam to bet on it with jay)

“i second that” you mindlessly agree, earning a smile from the boy beside you

the rest exchange knowing glances of ‘any other recommendations?’ to which you don’t notice

“..actually what I was thinking is less of a light hearted school romance movie, but more of a light hearted-ish action movie like spider-man homecoming?” jake suggests, looking around for approval

you shrug, but one after another, the rest of the boys agree to spider-man homecoming, the only other siding for high school musical being sunoo

“yes! okay spider-man it is!” jungwon excitedly exclaims, turning on the tv and getting settled next to jake

slightly disappointed, you wanted to watch high school musical, but nonetheless you could never resist peter parker (especially played by tom holland)

“being spider-man would be so cool” jake lets out, mesmerized by the action on screen “like imagine being able to just do… that” he motions to the scene

“honestly, jake, you’d be a solid spider-man” you reply

“you think so?” a smile tugging at jake’s lips

“not to rain on your parade, but i think not” jay interrupts, “obviously i’d be better,” perking up beside you

“yeah sure jay, what are you gonna do, spray your large variety of honey at them?” jake retorts

you can hear heeseung, sunghoon, sunoo, and jungwon’s snickering from across the room

“i would just be spider-man dumbass, with web shooters?? you-”

“i heard somewhere that tom holland had to wear a thong while wearing the spider-man suit” niki says nonchalantly, still focused on the screen in front of him

you watch as jay’s eyes widen

“take it back, jake can be spider-man” jay says, to which everyone cries laughing at for a whole 10 minutes

“ugh tom holland is just so perfect- where can i find a man like him” you exclaim, earning a quick response from none other than heeseung

“Y/N! you are currently surrounded by 7 hunky men! what more can you ask for”

“did you just use the word ‘hunky’? i heard that right? hunky?? no no no no, that’s it. i’m done. as much as i love y’all, hate to break it to you but tom holland is THE man.” you reply dreamily

“okay ya sure, because you can totally pull someone like him,, we’ll wait.”

“you know what jungwon, just let me live in peace for one day without reminding me how dry my relationship status is everyday” you jokingly reply, words dripping with an insincere annoyance

“y/nn, you know it’s because we love you. how is it gonna be when you get a significant other and leave us hanging every week? what are we gonna do then??” jungwon explains but he’s cut off when sunoo confesses

“y/n i’m gonna be honest, i most definitely have attachment issues with you”

“yeah. me too.” sunghoon nonchalantly adds.

all eyes are on you as you sit there between your dear friends, spider-man playing in the background, but now long forgotten.

to say that you appreciated each one of them was a total understatement.

they were everything to you, and you wouldn’t trade your friendship with them for the world

“no because now you guys are gonna make me cry or something” your eyes look up to the ceiling as you try to prevent the tears forming in your eyes from actually falling. plan failed.

“LOOK WHAT YALL DID. NOW MY BABY Y/N’S CRYING” jake puts his arms up and pretends to punch sunghoon

yeah sure your love life was like a tree on the verge of dying because of a drought, but you couldn’t imagine loving someone more than your friends.

“you guys are the best. i mean- for now i guess”

“eyyyyy y/n you just broke my heart” jake holds his heart and pretends to faint

you laugh, tear stained cheeks now glowing with happiness 

[loquaciousquark]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E113 (Oct. 27, 2020)

Good evening and good night, lovely people of the world! We’re on the internet and ready to go. Tonight’s guests are Travis Willingham and Sam Riegel. This will be calm, controlled, and sane, I can feel it. Brian points out it’s been seven months since either of them were on Talks. Oof. (Sam asks if it’s been going the whole time without him. Bigger oof.) Travis keeps sneaking bites out of an acai bowl or something and tries to look sneaky about it, and I laugh every time because he’s just...so big. He’s such a big person.

(Brian is wearing a lobstrosity shirt. He and Travis talk about Dark Tower for a bit; then Sam tries to get into the conversation: “Is that the thing from It?” Brian: “Is what the thing from It?” Sam: “Is that lobster the clown from It? I’m not very literate. Is that a Langolier? Is that a Shawshank?”)

Announcements: none! Maybe they just forgot. We’ve been talking about Sam’s spooky skeleton decorations for like five minutes. Brian suggests taking them to Travis’s house. Travis: “That’s the fastest way to get to the smell of burning plastic.” Brian: “Speaking of your girlfriend...”

On Avantika: Fjord wouldn’t call it a relationship as much as a casual sexual interaction. Not official! Super not official!!

The first sea voyage wasn’t great for Fjord, but he tried to be thoughtful about preparing for this one before they left: praying, kneeling at the bow of the ship, etc. He’s a little disappointed the Wildmother didn’t even throw him a “yo, fam” heads up.

They weren’t sure how to resolve the conflict at first, since Avantika went for Fjord rather than the crystal. No one expected it to get exposed in that way. Travis thought the necklace was a pocket dimension and was alarmed to learn it wasn’t. Travis wants it destroyed along with the third gateway, so until they are he won’t rest easy.

Everyone enjoyed watching them all fail on the battlefield again. (Sam: “You used [Counterspell] so effectively!”) Travis thought he’d said Thunder Step, which would imply Avantika was running, rather than Thunder Wave. Sam says it’s fine since none of them have that spell and he wouldn’t know it anyway.

It’s very difficult for Veth to find reasons to stay with the M9. She loves the adventures and making a difference, but she also wants to come home and have weekends and have a husband and life. “She’s a career girl!” He’s very excited about the possibilities of Caleb’s transportation effectively creating an easy commute for her. He also, as a player, doesn’t want to be the person who’s always leaving the party. “My characters wanna roam!”

Travis was fully tilted that Avantika might have gotten away right before the break. He doesn’t think he could have focused on Vess DeRogna’s task knowing Avantika had gotten away; he was seriously working out how Fjord would leave the party to go make a last stand at the third gate if she’d escaped.

Sam looooves how Matt plays Yeza, but it honestly makes him feel a little worse at how encouraging he is for Veth to chase her dreams. “He’s always like - go shine! Go blossom!” He wants to have the conversation about Yeza feeling a little ignored. It’s fun to share the tales of adventures with Luc & Yeza. 

Travis says there’s no way it’s Molly--it’s all Lucien. They don’t know if it was a resurrection, if he’s undead, possessed, etc. Everyone--everyone--rags on Taliesin’s accent work. Brian surreptitiously claims Ashly was brought on to relieve him of the burden of the accent. Poor Ashly, ha!

Initially, Travis landed on the Oath of the Ancients, but it had more nature & pacifism in it than he felt fit Fjord very well. Many of them also had a focus on good & lawfulness, which also didn’t feel quite right; he also wasn’t that vengeful for some of the others. He & Matt got together and discussed options. Matt asked what Travis liked about Fjord; Fjord’s love for the ocean was a huge part of it, since Travis himself also loves the ocean & scuba diving, and so Matt created a custom oath for him. Travis does not plan to post its details, but he thinks Matt will at some point.

Cosplay of the Week! a lovely Scanlan by Air Bubbles Cosplay! Sam tells us the “canon” Scanlan cosplay was actually borrowed hodgepodge, and the boots were falling off all day.

It was really cool to see how Yeza & Luc have made a home in Nicodranas. Felderwin was okay, but kind of your basic D&D fishing village, and she likes the Nicodranas is much better. She’s confident & comfortable knowing her family is safe and sound.

Why is Fjord so interested in finding Sabian? To him, post-orphanage, his time with Vandren was the best of his life & the most love he’d ever received, because he mattered & had worth. It was taken by someone he’d known basically his whole life, so Fjord is not going to let that go. “That fuckin’ bill needs to be paid, my friend.”

Sam acknowledges that he should NOT have looked at his phone in re: the Vilya reveal, but it was pretty surprising! He can’t believe none of them recognized it! Travis points out the M9 had never met, heard of, or known anything about Vilya, so it’s not that surprising. Brian points out Matt has also done a really good job keeping the two campaigns separate, so any references were tasteful. Sam marvels that it was so well done: it was tasteful, had emotional and story impact... “That Matt. He’s getting better!”

Liam texted Sam back something like “oh SHIT.”

Knowing Veth had a chance to help someone else return to her child made Veth feel almost karmically forgiven for being away from her kid, but it also made Veth a little guilty--”this lady wants to desperately return home, shouldn’t I want to go home too?” Caleb’s teleportation spell couldn’t have come a better time.

Sam wants Caleb & Astrid to get back together (well, he says “hump each other”), and Dani’s eyebrows climb off her forehead. Veth/Nott really thinks Caleb needs to have a roll in ze hay, and feels like after meeting her that there is a kindness or vulnerability to her that could be worthwhile. Travis thinks she feels like someone tethered, that it feels like she has a bomb or something in her chest that’ll explode if she tries to leave. Sam thinks Eadwulf is super cool. None of these names are spelled like I think.

Travis found the dinner super frustrating, because he felt Caleb was trying to walk a diplomatic line and he just wanted to backhand Trent. 

Fjord is still coming to terms with his feelings for Jester, and the feelings are definitely real, but there’s a lot of timing that he’s considering and he also wants to figure out what the relationship is like outside of constant tension and battle. Fjord is also having trouble figuring out how to exercise the ability to display affection as well since he’s never received them, and is feeling out how to give and receive them. “It’s fine now, because he’s feeling it, but once you say it out loud, or once you come to a point where you make it known to the other side, then what happens? It might be ruined. It might be broken. Or it might not be!” The moment with the porcelain unicorn was too good not to try. Travis also sighs that he’s not a romance D&D guy, “but now I am! Fuckin’ Laura Bailey!” He’s definitely feeling it out and will see how it unfolds in the game.

If Jester hadn’t let go of the Traveler, Fjord would have either attacked the Traveler or the Moonweaver and tried to kick them both off.

Sam doesn’t think the Traveler’s realized yet what a dick he is. Brian thinks it may not happen in this campaign, but agrees the full weight of what he deserves hasn’t been felt yet. Travis: “Yeah, he came to the edge, but it didn’t cost him anything.” Brian: “Yeah, he’s a real edgelord.”

Fanart of the Week! a beautiful portrait of Molly in the snow by @claygryphon on twitter.

Veth acknowledges that they work for shady people with shady pasts, so Vess DeRogna isn’t her first rodeo, but this time it’s personal. It’s Jaws 2: Electric Boogaloo. Sam can’t commit to actual actions, since Vess is like level 20 or something, but “I will get some kinda revenge. Be it petty or significant, I will get revenge.”

How are they feeling about being in Eiselcross? They’ve only just landed, so not sure yet. The cold is intimidating. They’re excited to explore a new island that’s part of Wildemount, especially with the river of lava running through it. “It’s icy with lava? Sounds like a Dairy Queen.”

There’s still a ton of unknowns regarding the Tombtakers, Vess, the nature of their job, and who’s here on whose orders. They’re excited to see how it’s all going to play out. Travis laughs that he doesn’t take notes, he’s just here to fight things. It just washes over him when Matt starts talking about names and places. “It’ll reveal itself in time. [...] I don’t write those notes down. I don’t even know how to spell it off the bat.” I have never identified more with Travis. Sam actually does pay attention and take notes and was really impressed by Marisha’s dive.

Veth became interested in branding her own spellcraft as soon as she saw Caleb doing it. “That’s what the influencer agents are gonna be looking at. It would be nice to leave the world better than we found it, but also with some branded spells.”

What were Fjord’s thoughts on dropping so much money on the ring & the Ioun stone? It wasn’t about money for Fjord, it was about a cool thing to acquire. It’s why he saves money in his campaign. Caleb needs “as much of a flak jacket as he can get.” He also REJECTS the idea of buyer’s remorse on the ring and touts the effectiveness it’ll have on the lava river.

Travis talks about his old coins - a 340AD coin he bought at a ren faire and a 120BC coin that was a gift from a friend.

Sam marvels at the love and thought that Caleb put into the tower. Sam points out they forgot to go to the top two floors altogether. Travis: “Did the mansion get as much careful planning from Scanlan as the tower did from Caleb?” Sam: Absolutely not. But they were still thinking small in C1, figuring out how things went, and they didn’t have as much detail in their heads yet.

And that’s all the time we have for tonight! We end on everyone whispering way too close into their mics and tapping fingernails on mason jars. A fitting end to this crazy episode, I think.

Is it Thursday yet?

[drabblesforsanguine]

Letting Go - Oneshot

Summary: Miraak lets go of the past and looks towards his future.

Pairing: Miraak/f!LDB

Warnings: fluff, flirting, light angst, brief descriptions of ptsd, mentions of violence, possible thalassophobia triggers

Word Count: 1879

Prompt: none

A/N: this is the first oneshot I've ever posted on this site, so pls be gentle lol. Also I'm on mobile, so sorry about any spelling/grammatical errors. Find me on ao3 

The only sound to be heard was the soft splash of the oars cutting through the water. No sound of waves crashing against the shore or the cry of seagulls, for even they didn't fly out this far.

If he squinted hard enough, Miraak could just barely make out the rocky outline of the northern coast far behind the Last Dragonborn.

The midday sky above was overcast and the ocean breeze was bitter. More than once he'd seen her shiver from a particularly harsh gale only to pretend that she didn't. A storm was brewing on the sea behind him, though with luck it would be many hours before it reached them.

"Not much further, now." Her eyes were fixed on the dark waves as she spoke.

"You've been saying that for the past hour." He grumbled, his arms starting to feel sore from this seemingly endless amount of rowing.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, a faint teasing smirk on her lips.

"Well, this time I mean it."

His gaze flickered down to the wooden chest resting by her feet, his curiosity still piqued as to its contents and purpose for being here.

He'd asked about it at the beginning of their voyage, among many other questions, but of course she'd just shrugged him off like she always does and said he'd find out once they were far out at sea. Well, they were far out enough.

He stopped rowing and fixed her with a hard stare.

"I'm not rowing another inch until you tell me what we're doing out here."

She finally turned and faced him fully, one of her dark eyebrows arched upwards. With a dead serious look in her eyes, she spoke.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm going to kill you, lock your corpse in this chest and dump it in the sea."

He blinked at her once, twice.

"Is it impossible for you not to act like a child all the time?"

She rolled her eyes then, with a sigh, she leaned over the chest and lifted the lid. Miraak peered inside with curiosity. His eyes narrowed at what he saw.

"Are those..."

"The Black Books, yes." She said, wrapping her arms around herself as another breeze rolled by.

True to her word, inside the confines of the chest were all seven of Hermaeus Mora's forbidden tomes, each individually wrapped in animal skins and tightly bound with rope.

"He will not be happy if we do this." Miraak cautioned after a short pause, his eyes still fixed on the evil books before him.

The books that had brought him nothing but suffering. Just looking at them made him feel... uneasy, for lack of a better word. It was the same feeling he always had in Apocrypha: alone, yet constantly under watch by an unseen entity.

She just shrugged nonchalantly. "He's not exactly thrilled with me anyways."

He stared at her, his brows pinched together. "Why?"

For a moment she appeared confused. "For starters, I shot him with Auriels bow, temporarily destroyed his plane of Oblivion and stole his favorite champion?"

He rolled his eyes and huffed out a breath. "No. I mean, why are you doing this?" He gestured towards the chest to make his meaning clear.

"Oh," she mumbled, suddenly avoiding eye contact with him. When she finally focused back on him, it was with a seriousness he'd rarely seen from her before.

"These books have brought us nothing but misery -- you most of all." He winced involuntarily at her words, but she continued. "Maybe doing this will give you- us, some closure. If not, then at least it'll piss Hermaeus Mora off, which is good enough for me."

He scoffed, "He is probably laughing at us as we speak, you know."

"Yeah. Well, he can choke on his own tentacles for all I care. Now, are you gonna keep rowing or what?" She asked, feigning irritation as she shut the lid of the chest.

He rolled his eyes but seeing as she revealed why they were there, he stayed true to his word and continued pushing the boat further out to sea.

"You are too eager to defy the Daedra." He admonished lightheartedly.

She shrugged, "We defeated him once. We can do it again."

He gave no response, though there were many things he wanted to say. Most notably that she was naive to think they could defeat a Daedric Prince twice. They'd merely gotten lucky the first time. He wanted to say that, but he didn't.

After a brief silence, she spoke again.

"How long has it been now?"

"Nine months, 14 days." He answered without skipping a beat.

"How time flies," she mused. "It feels like only yesterday that I was nursing you back from the brink of death."

"Don't remind me."

She smirked at his sour tone.

"Come on, I wasn't that bad of a caretaker."

Again, he didn't respond.

Miraak would much rather forget those first few weeks after he was freed from Apocrypha -- after she freed him from Apocrypha -- when he was so weak and ill that he couldn't even walk by himself, and he was forced to rely on the Dovahkiin's good will to help him.

He hated feeling so powerless. So vulnerable.

He'd learned from an young age how to take care of himself, but all those years trapped in Oblivion made him forget. For a long time it pained him to admit how much he needed her in the beginning, to help him remember how to be human. It wasn't quite as painful to admit now, but he'd still rather not be reminded of it.

"Is it such a bad thing to let others take care of you from time to time?" She asked, as if reading his thoughts.

"In my time, relying too much on others was a good way to get yourself killed."

"You're not in that time anymore."

She looked at him with a sincerity that made his insides ache. He almost couldn't stand it -- these feelings she aroused in him.

He looked down at the chest again, just so he didn't have to bear that look anymore.

"This should be far enough." She said suddenly.

Miraak stopped rowing and secured the oars in place. He watched curiously as she reached into her satchel laying on the bench beside her and withdrew an iron padlock. She paused for a split second before reaching out towards him with the padlock.

With little hesitation on his part, he took it from her open palm, his fingers lightly grazing against her skin. He saw goosebumps raise on her arm as he withdrew his fingers, but chalked it up to the cold. For a Nord, she didn't handle the cold very well.

His hands felt heavier than usual as he reached forward and snapped the lock shut around the latch, sealing the chest.

When he looked up at her, there was a hint of relief in her eyes. Like a huge weight had already been lifted from her shoulders. He felt it too.

"Ready?"

He nodded, unwavering.

They both stood carefully as to not tip the small rowboat over, each grabbing one side of the chest, and leveraged it precariously on the boats edge. Kneeling side by side, they shared one last look of determination then, after a deep breath, they pushed the chest overboard. Together they peered over the edge and watched it sink into the dark water below. With all luck, it will remain lost to the depths of the Sea of Ghosts forever.

Then they waited.

A minute passed, two minutes. For what felt like forever they remained there, holding their breaths as they stared into the icy water. Nothing ever happened. No mass of angry, slimy tentacles appeared over them, threatening to disembowel them for desecrating his precious tomes.

When it finally felt safe to do so, they each exhaled their long held breaths. Relief finally settled in his bones.

She spoke after another significant pause, if only to break the ice.

"When I 'won' the Oghma Infinium, the first thing I did with it was drop it into the sea. At least now it's wretched cousins can keep it company."

"Mora will not let this go unpunished. Sooner or later he will have his revenge." He hated that his voice wavered ever so slightly. He was never one to show fear. He could feel it, yes, but he certainly never showed it.

If she noticed, she gave no indication.

"Yes, he will," she said, her tone not lacking in surety. "And when he does, we will face him together."

Then she turned towards him, a faint smile on her face. His stomach nearly jumped out of his throat when her hand slowly slid over to rest atop of his own. Strangely though, he didn't move away. He should've moved away, but he found that he didn't want to.

Even before he'd been imprisoned for thousands of years, Miraak had gone out of his way to avoid intimacy. It was nothing but a weakness to be used against him. After being completely devoid of the touch of others for so long, he'd forgotten how nice it could feel.

Seeming to act on a will of it's own, his hand turned upwards and sought her own significantly smaller one. Her ice cold skin immediately warmed at his touch.

"Together." He repeated with a nod.

Her smile grew a little bit brighter, her cheeks turning a faint pink. It was only due to the cold air, or so he told himself.

"But until then," he continued, "let's get somewhere warm. You're freezing out here."

She gave his hand a little squeeze before pulling away, much to his disappointment. He tried not to let it show, but the way her smirk grew even more told him he was not as stoic as he thought.

His disappointment quickly faded, however, as he watched her take a seat on the bench he'd previously occupied. Still smiling, she crossed one leg over the other and pat the empty space next to her.

"Yes, let's go home."

Home. She'd never called it that before. It was always 'my house' or 'the house', but never 'home'.

Struggling to contain his own smile, he sat down next to her and started unfastening the oars. Before he could react, she scooted closer to him and huddled against his side, digging her hands into his robes for warmth.

She was shivering worse than he'd realized.

He wrapped one of his arms around her to grab the other oar. She angled her body in a way that allowed him to row while still being close enough to absorb his warmth. With a tranquil sigh, she rested her cheek on his chest, the peek of her head stopping just below his chin.

He tried to tell himself she was just cold, but he knew better. He'd always known better.

It was in that moment, with his ferocious little Dragonborn cuddled against his body for warmth, he realized that she was his home, and to his surprise, that wasn't such a scary thought.

For the first time in a long time, he had something worth holding onto and he never planned on letting go.

[snlhostharry]

to be determined / one

harry styles x reader friends with benefits au

soon after moving to new york, you meet harry styles at a party. you convince yourself that there’s nothing between the two of you until it becomes too intense to ignore. if you keep telling yourself that he doesn’t mean anything to you, does that make it true?

a/n: hi everyone! welcome to my first harry styles series. This originally started as a challenge for myself to try and write a harry fic inspired by taylor swift songs so that’s where the chapter titles come from, it’s kind of become something bigger than that but I figured I would keep the theme anyway 

chapter 1: welcome to new york

The story starts in New York City. 

A place written about in countless stories, about love, about heartbreak, about giving up, about standing tall, and about putting broken hearts into drawers and slamming them shut. It’s easy to say that writing another story about New York is beating a dead horse, throwing characters into the same tired old setting and letting them live out the writer's wildest daydream. But it’s never been about the city itself, it’s always been about the people. Something about the city always manages to be the perfect stomping ground for people, for characters to find each other in a  whirlwind of A list parties and harsh billboard lights. 

Speaking of which you are suddenly very sick of said harsh billboard lights in the middle of times square. As someone who has read (and written) countless articles describing times square as a flurry of activity but also with some kind of inherent magical appeal, the center of everything it’s own small utopia, you know that everyone who wrote that had to be aware of their own bullshit. It’s a nuanced way of tourist trapping, smart, albeit annoying on a variety of levels. A gimmick to get wide eyed little girls to stand in the middle of chaos and think that maybe they could carve out a place for themselves here. 

You’re not trying to carve out a place for yourself, you’re trying to get to a stupid party. That and manage to not get any mud or other stains on this very nice dress you’re wearing. After what seems like forever of looking around and then suddenly looking back down at your phone just in case anyone wanted to even try to make eye contact with you, familiar faces appear out of the sea of people. 

You greet them with a look of disappointment, “Two questions: why did you want to meet here-” a tourist elbows there way past you mid sentence, inadvertently proving your point, “-and why aren’t we just taking an uber?” 

Molly, a tall black woman with objectively perfect hair (which is somehow gorgeous at all times), smiles and pats your shoulder like a kindergarten teacher, “I thought you would want to see Times Square.”

“I’ve seen it,” You shoot back, squinting again at the bright light coming from directly behind her head, and adjusting your jacket over your shoulders. 

She squeezes your shoulder quickly, “And also to teach you that any time someone asks you to meet them in Times Square  they’re fucking with you.”

“I figured you were fucking with me,” You tell her, “But thank you, god forbid the midwestern girl gets lost in Times Square waiting for someone to meet her who is obviously not coming.” 

Molly laughs, and so do you. She looks down at her phone briefly, and then back at you, “To answer your question, why would anyone ever try to get an uber in the city at seven?” 

You shrug, “What kind of self respecting party starts at eight?” 

Fletcher, who’s name admittedly sounds like it should belong to anyone but him, finally stops staring at the large elmo mascot a few feet away and jumps into the conversation. “The kind with an age range, twenty somethings to late thirty somethings, who no longer have the energy to go from nine to six am.” 

You sigh, “So boring then or-?”

“It’s about networking,” Molly says, “And also drinking, but mostly networking.” 

“One of those unique business opportunities where you get free food, and possibly run into celebrities, singers mostly.” 

You roll your eyes, “Wow you had me at various singers.” 

“Says the woman who did an interview series with Tik Tok kids who all live in the same house,” Molly snips, half joking. 

You shiver, half from the memories of that objectively terrible experience and half from a sudden breeze. Needless to say a significant portion of the reason why you’d left LA, was because their entertainment section was suddenly drifting away from profiles on actors and towards compilations of one minute videos made by sun tanned twenty somethings that somehow made them millions a year. That and after you’d spent two weeks semi living with ten of said twenty somethings for a story that had gotten a lot of buzz you never wanted to see anyone connected to the app ever again. 

You give Molly your best ‘I’ll kill you’ smile, “You have to decide what you’re going to make fun of me for, is it the midwestern thing or is it the Tik Tok thing because one of those involves you admitting that I lived in Los Angeles for a year which means I’m perfectly capable of handling Times Square in all of it’s elmo public urinating glory.” 

Fletcher looks again at the mascot who is not in fact publicly urinating, but honestly if it did suddenly start none of you would be surprised. 

Molly looks at you for a second and says, “Both,” She looks at Fletcher. 

He looks at you then back and Molly and nods, “Yeah. Both.” 

You roll your eyes, “So can we get going now or-?” 

The ride to the location Molly had all but refused to tell you was filled with talks of the impending deadlines on Monday for pieces that were anywhere from fifty to seventy percent finished. (your’s is at the lower end of the spectrum because there is only so much one person can write about an art installation that you found less insightful and more literal in the sense that the sculpture was literally just large amounts of clay pressed together in something that shouldn’t even be considered a shape with no metaphor or meaning behind it). 

Soon enough you’re standing in what looks like mostly a residential neighborhood, with one precariously nice building in the middle of the block. You turn to Molly, “What the-?” 

“Don’t finish that, just be patient,“ She interrupts as a response. “You are very impatient, you know that?”

“I’m a journalist,” You say, “I need to know all of the facts, including what the-” You take a breath, “-heck we’re doing in the middle of a nice little neighborhood, I was expecting something more Gossip Girland Brooklyn Nine-Nine.” 

“You’re definition of journalist is a lot looser than mine,” Molly says.

“Have you ever watched Gossip Girl? And isn’t Brooklyn Nine-Nine set in a precinct?” Fletcher adds. 

“No, and Jake and Amy live in an apartment.” 

“Beyond the fact that you’re a TV writer who has never watched Gossip Girl-” Fletcher sighs, even though you know he hasn’t watched it either beyond random snippets for a hit piece he wrote on it a few months back (not received well by the way), “The top floor of that building-” He points to the precariously nice building, “isn’t apartments its a loft, the floor is huge and only one house.” 

You squint your eyes, “You’re kidding.”

“And the rest are offices?” 

“How did they get zoning for that?” 

They both shrug at the same time. 

“Guys I want to know that if the police bust up this party, speaking of loose terms, I’m going to say that you dragged me here against my will.” 

“I always knew you had good survival instincts.” 

Molly turns to you, “Look when you’re getting special press access to the inside of the met gala you will be saying thank you Molly for bringing me here to catapult my career.” 

“I have catapulted my own career thank you, the Tik Tok thing-” You shake your head, “Nevermind can we go in and stop loitering, then we’ll really get arrested.” 

Party is a loose term but you learn that's not necessarily a bad thing. It’s not a rager with strobe lights and pumping bass but there is music playing albeit classical. People mill around at tables talking to one another, both twenty somethings and thirty somethings, you recognize a few faces from the media mostly. Fletcher was right about the food, and Molly was right about the drinks. You talk to a few people just to introduce yourself, a couple of them have heard of you, if only because your sudden cross country move to newspapers that aren’t necessarily competitors but might have a bit of a rivalry was something that people talked about. You’d made a couple thirty under thirty lists (no not the Forbes one) while in LA, which meant nothing to you if you were being completely honest but apparently meant things to other people which is fine.

When you’re finally exhausted at putting on a smile and nodding like you’re actively engaged in conversation and not thinking about something completely you hang out by the bar, not even drinking, just watching the room and all of the people there. You never wanted to get a reputation for being the quiet girl in the corner who just watched and listened because those kinds of people are always seen as weird or doormats or both but if you’re being honest this is where you’re the most comfortable. Making small talk just to get some opportunity down the road has never quite been your style. 

You turn to go and find Molly when you suddenly come face to face with someone you recognise right away. 

In that moment you realize that Taylor Swift was in fact onto something when she said, “Didn’t you flash your green eyes at me?” As weird as it is, the first thing you think when you meet Harry Styles is how that song is definitely about him, because those green eyes are striking and they are staring right at you. 

“Hi,” He says, quick to the draw. 

You take a step back just because of how close you are and say, “Hello.” 

He looks at you like he’s thinking about something, and then holds out his hand, “Harry.” 

“y/n,” You shake his hand. You recover from your initial shock quickly, and plaster on that fake conversation smile again, ready for whatever it is he wants to say, if anything. You came here to ‘network’ and you’re not sure what kind of advantage talking to Harry Styles could possibly give you, but for some reason you want to talk to him. 

“What brings you here?” He asks you. 

“My co-workers,” You shrug, “I would much rather be at home watching Succession on HBO and listening to the Beatles on my record player, like true people of culture would.”

He looks at you for a second, as you try to keep a straight face. Then he laughs, “Seriously?”

“Fuck no,” You say, “That’s my impression of the girl who meets Harry Styles at a party and has to convince him that she is not like all the other girls, she is the one for him.” You smile, “Was that good? Or should I try again?” 

He thinks about it, “I think you should try again.” 

“Because you think it’s wrong or because you think I’m funny?”

“What do you think?”

“Well if you think I’m funny, then I’ve already won, I’ve tricked you into thinking that I’m not like all the other girls with reverse psychology .”

“Are you screwing with me?”

“Of course I’m screwing with you,” You take a sip of your drink. “If I were home right now I would be playing Lizzo on my record player, and drinking something with a medically unsafe level of caffeine.” You pause, “What brings you here?” 

“Honestly,” He looks out over the room, “I thought that this was going to be a much cooler party. Instead it’s just a bunch of reporters, and editors and media people.” 

“Who are inherent mood killers?” You ask. 

He narrows his eyes at you, “Am I allowed to say yes to that?” 

“You can do whatever you want,” You tease him, “You’re Harry Styles, who am I to tell you what to say?” 

“I feel like it was a trick question, which means that you are also a reporter.” 

You laugh again, “That was funny, I’m going to write that down for my story. ‘Harry is genuinely funny which he tries to use to make up for the lack of small talk abilities’.”

“You’re screwing with me again.” 

“Of course I am,” You say, “I work in the arts section of the Times, well not the actual art anymore but the movies and television.” 

“TV critic?” He says, “So you’re harsh.” 

“TV critics are just harsh for attention, I don’t need to be because no movie snob or well meaning director is going to go to the Times to see what we thought of any given movie. I write honestly, sometimes under the influence of caffeine and try to contain my excitement at narratively unnecessary plot twists.” You explain, “That and I get paid to watch TV, and usually private screenings of movies.” 

He leans against the bar a sign that he doesn’t plan on moving anytime soon. You’re not going to say that you’re so awestruck by a celebrity that you have no idea what to say, or that he’s intimidating you but your hand shakes just a little as you clutch your fingers around the glass because he’s objectively attractive. Objectively attractive in the way that if he were on a dating app you would swipe yes and then put a lot of pressure on yourself to be funny and relatable even though you know that you don’t need him. 

“What did you think of Dunkirk?” 

“Oh!” You forgot that he acted, “That was before my time. I was working at the LA Times doing the music section then I think.” You know what he’s going to say next, “And before you ask yes there is a piece still posted of me reviewing your debut album. I think I reached out to get an interview with you, but I was suspiciously declined.” He looks embarrassed, “I was like under five years out of college I would’ve declined me too. They only gave me the story because it was the time where people weren’t sure that ex boyband members could make objectively good albums that meant something.” 

He tilts his head to the side for a second, “And? Can they?”

“I’m in no place to make a generalization,” You say, “But I think you did. Admittedly that album was something, very intimate.” 

“I don’t know if I should be taking that as a compliment.”

“I don’t want to give you a compliment because some people have a hard time with them, and this will get very awkward very fast. No shame, personally I have no mechanism to take compliments on my writing.” 

He laughs, “I think I can take it.” 

“Hmm.. okay,” You take another step back, “Okay are you sure you're ready?” 

“Yes.” 

“I think the entire album was very good, very unexpectedly good or at least I didn’t expect it to be. It was very open in that way that songs are vulnerable but still leave enough mystery that your fans don’t think you're a shitty person and I really like meet me in the hallway,” You say quickly, “In fact I listened to it just yesterday when I was working.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, and then fake sighs, “See I don’t think that counts because it was more of a backhanded compliment.” 

“What?”

“You said you didn’t expect it to be good, that’s not really a compliment then-”

“I was saying it pleasantly surprised me,” You say, throwing your hands in the air in mock annoyance. “You surprise me, Harry.” He doesn’t say anything, and for a minute neither do you, but you snap back to life just in time to say, “Is that compliment enough to embarrass you?” 

He shrugs, but you know he’s messing with you. “It’s something but I don’t know if it’s really doing it for me.” 

“You are impossible, just another out of touch celebrity, is nothing ever good enough for you people?” It’s by now that you realize that you inadvertently closed the gap between the two of you, and you’re standing very close. 

He seems to realize this at the same time as you, “I-”

“Are you going to ask me to have sex with you?” You deadpan. 

“What?” He looks offended for a second, “No.” 

“I had to ask,” You tell him, “It’s happened before.” 

“I was going to ask you for your number.”

“See usually when a guy asks me that they’re asking so-” 

“It’s not for that.” 

“Then what’s it for?” 

He looks at you with something in his eyes that you don’t know the meaning of, “In case you want to do an interview, so that they don’t reject you this time.” 

You know that’s not it, but you give it to him anyway because he’s Harry Styles (which yes is not a valid reason but this ‘party’ is very boring and this is the most interesting thing to happen to you in at least the past week). It takes you a minute to remember which one is your real number and which one is the fake number you give off if a guy is asking because he wants a booty call, but you eventually give it to him. Then you scurry off with a quick goodbye when you realize how late it is, and how you do have work to do. There’s a new episode of Big Little Lies out tomorrow and you don’t understand why but people are very into the show, and very into your episode recaps. 

You corner Molly away from some guy you think might have actually been able to get her press access to the Met Gala and remind her that she also has a deadline tomorrow. The two of you go off to look for Fletcher and find him very close to sealing the deal with an objectively pretty girl, but you politely remind him that he has work to do and is very busy. The girl looks sad but let’s him go without much whining. You would’ve understood if she tried to get him to stay with her, he’s a little bit shorter than Molly but to be fair Molly is above averagely tall, and is nice and fit and has brown curly hair which you know from personal experience is sometimes just kryptonite. (you’ve kissed Fletcher before, long story, and can also say he’s on your top list of good kissers as well right up there with a guy you hooked up with in LA only to realize later that he was Robert Pattinson). 

Somehow the three of you are only able to make it back to your apartment. So the night ends with Molly and Fletcher in the living room on the couch and in a sleeping bag respectively, and you are comfortably in your bed. Your phone sits on your nightstand, suspiciously silent. You’re not waiting for Harry Styles to call you, nope, definitely not. 

[the-goth-catte]

A Shifting of the Sands: II

The roar of the bloodthirsty crowd in the arena rumbled like a persistent, pervasive thunder in the tunnels below the blood sands. The individual voices, the sounds that one could pick out to distinguish anything as even remotely related to mankind, were so muffled and dulled through the thick layers of stone and long twisting passages that what remained was an almost inhuman roar. A tempest of voices, a wall of humanity all calling out for one thing: blood. The fights had been going for some time now, so long that Naalie had lost track of how many bells had come and gone since the opening contest; she often wondered what it was that kept those men and women so enrapt, so enthralled that they would spend the better part of an entire day watching the trained fighters of the gladiators’ guild dance their deadly dance over and over again. Certainly after so long it became repetitious, did it not? While, yes, the different acts all fought with different styles… but when one got down to it, how different could any of it have been?

The young Miqo’te woman crouched in one of the many narrow, dimly lit passages beneath the arena proper; her back rested against the cold stone of the wall, though the majority of her scant weight was supported by the taut muscles of her calves. All of her gear, save the plumed helm which rested beside her, was polished and equipped, the weight of the steel, leather, and cloth a familiar comfort to her. Many of her colleagues cracked wise that her attire must weigh as much as she did, and while it wasn’t quite so burdensome as that the armor did add a significant amount to her overall weight. In moments like these, when the call would soon come that her fight was next, Naalie found herself repeating this same routine time and time again: crouch in the dark tunnels and allow the weight of arms and armor to ground her, to center her. It reminded her that she was in this moment, in the now, and that no matter what came next nothing could change that. Her breathing was slow and rhythmic: inhale to the count of five, exhale for seven, hold for five, repeat. It kept her heartbeat from slamming wildly in her chest, and the anxiety that always came with an impending fight from running wild with her emotions. At least… it usually kept her anxiety in check. 

This fight… this one was unlike the others. She’d faced challenges, gone up against odds that she’d been unlikely to best - and won. This wasn’t even supposed to be a challenging fight, according to the word from the back alley bookies taking bets on the outcomes. While the Hrothgar she was pitted against was significantly larger than her, the skill with which she wielded a sword outclassed him in nearly every imaginable way. Light and nimble, Naalie glided like a shadow over the blood soaked sands to strike quick, hard, and decisively. There was little at risk in this fight. What gnawed at the back of her mind, instead, was the cryptic warning that came some weeks earlier while finding a measure of solace in the desert night.

The Lalafellen man hadn’t identified himself, only insinuated that he was a man of power and influence. The exchange had played out in her mind’s eye repeatedly in the days that followed, twisting and turning the encounter every which way to make sense of it; part of her wondered if he’d been bluffing, some costumed man with a mummer’s farce trying to scam her into providing a big pay out, while the remainders believed he was legitimately who he suggested he might have been. What would happen if she didn’t do what was so kindly asked of her? She, and her tribe, had so very little that there wasn’t much that could be taken from them; she had very few personal ties, fewer still beyond her immediate family. And what of her opponent? Had the man approached him as well with some enticing offer to encourage him to win? Or simply told him he would be going over in their bout? Undoubtedly he’d done something with Bjornulf, Naalie just couldn’t guess what it might have been. In silent frustration, the young Miqo’te woman leaned her head back and began idly bouncing it against the stone behind her; it hurt, but it distracted her from the racing thoughts swirling about her mind.

Far above her, Naalie heard the crowd roar with approval at some unknown deed that had just transpired; whatever it was, it had been exciting. A particular bloody outcome? A surprising upset for one of the underdog fighters? … A death? Those weren’t uncommon in the dangerous world that revolved around the Ul’dah Bloodsands. Would she soon meet such an ignoble ending, sprawled in the dirt and grime while the fans who had so loyally cheered for her now called for her death? A slow sigh slipped past her lips, and Naalie’s eyelids dropped tightly closed. In that moment, the sounds of the arena seemed to fade, becoming a dull background roar… a white noise she could tune out. It was a strange, unexpected moment of peace, which left her yearning for somebody, anybody, that she could reach out to.

"Vhenna!" the call came from somewhere to her right, just around the corner of the tunnel. "You're on next. Get your ass up to the gate."

Her silence broken, Naalie let out one more quiet sigh before pushing up to her feet. The footfalls that carried her down the tunnel were leaden, her body refusing to cooperate with the demands she was making of it; each step felt as if she were walking to her execution, a sense of dread lingering about her being with a strong defiance running to her core. No matter how this day went, no matter the outcome of this fight, she knew that things would never again be the same.

-----

Sand kicked up into an arc as Bjornulf the Hellsbeast slammed the head of his mighty mace into the ground where Naalie had been standing but a scant few beats of the heart before; the thick metal hit with such force that the percussion could not only be felt by the nimble Miqo'te, but actually heard over the cheers and jeers of the spectators. Naalie wasn't sure if they called out in excitement as she easily twisted to the side before the blow fell, or if they were disappointed that her flesh and bones hadn't been crushed instead of the sand.

The way she moved wasn't unlike that of a dancer, albeit one decked in heavy armor and wielding a short sword; as the mace came hurtling down, Naalie had jumped to the side, twisting in air and coming down in a crouch a few fulms to the left. Was the crouch necessary? No. The crowd, though, usually ate that kind of thing up... and anything you could do to get the crowd wanting to see more of you was well worth doing. As she lifted her head, magenta eyes slowly lifted toward the rings of spectators looking down on them (yet another fan-favorite move that she tried to throw into the fray when she could). She tried to tell herself that she wasn't looking for anybody in particular, but she knew in her core that she was damn well looking for that Lalafell. The quick, stolen glance wasn't long enough to make out any faces, however; in the heat of the moment, in the midst of battle, she could scare spare more than a few heartbeats to play around before getting back to business.

As the tan Hrothgar began to heft his mace from where it has embedded itself in the sand, Naalie dove and rolled forward behind where his legs were planted; there was the briefest bits of hesitation as she brought out her blade to attack.

Should I? He warned me...

Flash

The bright lights of the arena caught the reflection of Naalie's blade, flashing brightly as the steel bit into the bare flesh and fur of her opponent. The man groaned aloud as the keen edge dug deep into the muscle of his thigh, mouth contorting into the shape of a silent scream and eyes narrowing. Blood poured free, matting the fur of his legs and spilling down onto the already stained sands below.

The crowd went wild, on their feet and cheering wildly.

All... but one.

In the sea of sound and moving bodies, there was one lone figure; Naalie caught but a glance as her eyes flicked back up to the ground, a few heartbeats at most... but she was sure. The ostentatious clothes, the smug expression, the two flanking morons. Yeah, it was him.

The corners of her mouth turned downward in a scowl. The entire fight until now had been spent in a mounting state of dread and indecision, not knowing what to do... what would be best for her career, or her well being. But seeing that short statured pompous ass standing in the crowd, watching her with his judgmental expression... Naalie knew.

As Bjornulf staggered forward, his right leg no longer fully supporting his weight, Naalie began to strike. She never went immediately for one killing blow, unless it was a guaranteed success. She preferred, instead, to dart in and out and make numerous strikes to further hinder their ability to attack or defend themselves. Precise cuts crippled his other leg, bringing the big Hroth down to his knees; his right arm was shortly rendered useless as he made the mistake of lifting it to guard against a blow, taking several ilms of cold steel into his flesh. Naalie was fairly certain she felt bone scraping against her blade when she slid it from the wound she'd created, and from the amount of blood that began to pour out it wouldn't have surprised her. He was helpless now. He knew it. She knew it. The crowd knew it. And the crowd... the crowd was going wild, their lust for blood and death at a pitch.

Naalie stood before the felled Hroth, blade held outstretched with tip pointing down at him. His eyes were wide and watery, but his brave face held as he stared potential death in the eye. It wasn't at her helpless foe that she looked, but to the mass of humanity beyond him... through the cheering fans... to a single, solitary Lalafell. With a defiant incline of her chin, Naalie's voice rang out in the arena.

"I refuse to kill this helpless gladiator." She paused, her eyes lowering to meet those of Bjornulf. "Yield," she demanded.

His breath came in pants, gasping for air through the pain of his wounds and the shame of his defeat. "He..." Bjornulf started, his voice low... low enough that his words were lost to all save a single Miqo'te. "... He promised... me riches... if I could kill you. And...  he... he promised suffering... if I couldn't." Bjornulf spat, red phlegm staining the sand at Naalie's sandals. "You... have to... finish it."

The desperation was heavy in his words, carrying the weight of his fear and chilling Naalie to her core. Before she could process this, the Hrothgar lunged forward with a strength she didn't realize he still possessed; the severity of his wounds made it a clumsy endeavor at best, but Naalie saw it for what it was worth: an opening to give his death some glory, so he would pass from this world a fighter on his feet rather than a weakling on his knees.

With a quick motion, Naalie stepped to the side as he staggered in front of her; turning her sword in hand, Naalie brought the point downward just behind his clavicle. It cut through flesh and down into his pumping heart, stilling the organ. With a cry, Naalie jerked her blade free; the cooling corpse of Bjornulf slumped face-first into the sands as his life's blood spilled across the aptly named arena's floor.

Bitter tears stinging her eyes, Naalie lifted her head to stare out to the crowd in victory. She saw none of the cheering faces, the contorted fans enrapt with the spectacle before them. Only a solitary Lalafell turning his back and slowly walking away.

[damn-stark]

I Won’t Say (I’m in Love)

Chapter 8 of Dark Temptations

A/N- oh my gosh I love this chapter and I’m also so excited to finally write the next one!! Like I’ve been looking forward to writing it since I thought of this series! It’s going to be a banger! Anyway I hope you all like this one :) let me know what you thought?! Also this chapter was inspired by the song ‘Won’t say (I’m in Love) by Susan Egan’ and these gifs are not mine, so credits to who made them :)

Warning- swearing, Poe being Poe ;), slow burn, angst, violence, dark rey, slight talks of bullying but just so slightly (just needed to add cause I know it can be triggering for some people) fluff! Long chapter..

Pairing- Dark!Poe x Skywalker!reader

(Let me know if you wanna be tagged)

————

“Hurry up and blow out the candle,” Jacen insisted as he walked into the room and let his hand hover behind your head; showing Ben his intentions with a wink behind you. “And then tell me what you wished for.”

You snort, “I’ll tell you now. A better brother.”

“Y/N.” Your father warned in a soft voice.

You shrug not being sorry for your comment before swatting Jacen’s hand away. Hearing him groan and seeing him sit across from you with half of his face hidden behind the candles burning flame, trying to insist you to blow out the candles again until you pointed something out first, “isn’t Poe coming?”

Ben answers behind you before Jacen could, sounding somewhat disappointed. “He would’ve been here already, so no, I don’t think so.”

You sigh and for a moment you’re as disappointed as Ben and Jacen. Or even more so. But it’s only for a moment as you manage to pull your smile back on and concentrate on the candle waiting to be blown out.

Grinning wider as you saw your family waiting (ghosts included) in front of you; smiling and singing the usual tune sang at one's birthday. Happiness overfilling the premises of the room for the single event of something so small yet significant; Clapping joyfully as you finally inhaled a puff of air and then happily blew it out to put out the single burning flame. Unknowingly blowing out the last moment of happiness and the only fire you would ever be able to put out.

Because as night crept along, so did the horrors of a raging fire crawl along. Bringing burning misery and leaving nothing but the ashes of the happy moments.

——

Deafening silence transpired in the space of the room, as from the depths of the couch your eyes captured every dancing color painted in the nubla clouded outside the transparisteel of the room. Noting the beautiful crimson light reflected on the warm skin of your hand and the entirety of your resting and slouching body. Feeling a salty taste kiss the corner of your lips as wretched tears rolled down the curve of your cheeks; trying to ignore the somber fact however as you admired the blue and green colors from the rest of the nubla parading around and basking the entirety of the room in its hues.

Feeling an almost vacant mind while you tried to numb the emotions that connected to this day, regretting even accepting Poe’s offer to accompany him wherever it was he was going to.

You should’ve just said no and let him have a fit instead, all you felt like doing today was nothing but sit in the echoes of your silence.

You didn’t even feel like getting up to open the door as a soft knock sounded on it. But it was a problem quickly resolved as the familiar swooshing sound hit your ears, signifying that someone opened it. Someone that basing off the soft footsteps on the floor, was Finn.

And identifying that, you wiped the tears off your cheeks, managing a small smile before turning around on the couch to face him, noticing right away an obvious mischievous intent written on his grinning face and hidden hands behind his back.

Your eyebrows pinch together and you fly up to sit up straight and instantly question him. “What? What’s going on? What are you doing?”

Finn says nothing and only gets an almost boyish grin as you follow him all the way until he comes around to stand before you, making you more nervous than sad now.

“Finn—”

“Happy birthday!” He sang as he swung his arm back around in front of him, revealing a small white round cake with a single candle on it.

“Oh stars, no,” you muffle out as you hide your burning face and wet cheeks in your hands, unable to contain the giddy smile on your lips. “How did you find out?”

He chuckles proudly and you feel the empty spot beside you sink down. “I have my ways.”

“You stalked me.”

“Researched!” He corrects you, moving the hands away from your face to show the cake in front of you.

You smirk and meet his gaze. “Same thing, stalker.”

“Whatever.” he huffs before the same excited grin grows on his lips; noting at that instant as the blue and green hues of the nebula clouded outside basked his face, how handsome he really was and much kinder his grin looked. It was truly admirable just like his kind gesture. “Happy birthday y/n.”

“Thank you Finn.” You finally say softly, blinking down as he lit the candle and pushed the cake closer.

“Make a wish and blow it out.”

“Oh jeez,” you sigh, “I haven’t done this in seven years. How do you do it again?”

Finn chuckles and plays along, “you inhale a little bit of air and then blow it out on the candle. Just don’t spray it out.”

“Gotcha.” Sharing one last smile you inhale a little bit, hesitating for a moment as you actually thought of a wish for his sake...and maybe yours. Watching the single dancing flame on the candle and feeling it captivate you as your memories began to flash in your mind for a fleeting moment. A single second before you forced yourself to blow out the candle and smile.

With a wider grin Finn then puts down the cake to face you and ask the usual, “What did you wish for?”

You scoff, “I can’t say or it won’t come true. You do know that's an unspoken rule right?”

“Come on just a little snippet.”

With a sigh you choose to say it, knowing it wouldn’t really matter as the real sad wish you thought of would remain hidden in the depths of your brain. “I wished to be a jedi Master.”

His eyebrows knot together in confusion, “aren’t you...one?”

“Nope. Not yet, my father never had the chance to grant me the rank of master. I’ve been doomed to be a Jedi knight for the rest of my life like my grandfather was.” You share. The last sentence added as more of an inside joke between Ahoska, Master Kenobi and said person. Knowing that only two of the three would’ve gotten a good laugh and it would’ve been great. And as much as you longed to live through that moment now, all you could do was imagine such a scene.

Finn blinks, not understanding a word and choosing to continue without going deep into it. “So, I know it isn’t a lot but it’s done with a lot of love, okay?”

“Don’t worry about it, I love it.” You smile before moving to wrap him in a much needed embrace. “Thank you Finn. You’ve got a good heart.”

At those words, his hold tightens and he lets out a slow breath of air, responding with nothing but a slow building tension that was broken as the door slid open. Revealing as expected, Poe.

He froze by the door and he gave no reaction at first, not until he collected himself and let his gaze narrow on what he caught; hiding his weird, bothered emotions as he walked inside. Letting the door close behind him before speaking up once Finn and you broke apart. “Good morning you two.” His eyes drift to the table in front of the couch and then to Finn and you again. “What’s the occasion?”

Just as Finn was going to open his mouth, you cut him off. “Nothing. Finn just wanted cake this morning.”

“Hmm,” Poe walks over to sit on your other side, suppressing his threatening smile and instead leading with something different. “Well we’re leaving soon, so do what you need to do before then.”

You shoot him a pointed gaze and turn your back to him before huffing out as softly as you could, feeling your pout but hiding it as you took a piece of cake on a paper plate and began to eat it in your unwelcomed and sudden anger.

Poe knew what today was. You knew you told him multiple times before—roughly seven years ago, but still, it’s something you doubted he forgot.

Or maybe he did. And it shouldn’t matter! It didn’t!

Yet you remembered his birthday even after the passing years without seeing him. Why didn’t he remember—no it didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Yet your eyes began to water as if you did care and he fucking noticed—“hey Princess are you okay?”

“Don’t.” You hiss as you stand and sit on Finn's other side, hearing Poe instantly remark back.

“Here I thought we were making progress.”

Another huff escapes you and you ignore him, feeling your anger burn more. Knowing at that instant that it did.

It did matter.

——

If there was a prize for rotten judgment you would be the sole grand winner for choosing to care so much about something so minuscule like remembering a birthday you haven’t celebrated for so long until this day because of Finn! But it's not like you were choosing to actually care, you didn’t want to at all. Who cared, right? Who cared about Poe remembering. Not you, nope.

Yet it felt so aggravating!

Like you wanted to grab him by the collar of his shirt and punch his nose, or just cry. Either choice—but he wasn’t even worth all this anger you felt boiling inside, or the crazy knotted up mess that was your thought process right now. He wasn’t worth you getting worked up. He wasn’t, and thinking so, you finally chose to expel out all the negativity and...other, with a deep breath in and a deep, relaxed breath out.

“Y/N.”

Fuck.

You grumble, “what?”

Poe stays silent for a second at the sound of your response whilst he studies your face and then tries to suppress a smug smirk; instead distracting the temptation by pulling out a blaster from his holster and holding it in front of you. “Since we’re not really in a safe place I want you to take this for just in case.”

You glance down at the black blaster and manage an amused grin and a scoff. At that instant and only for that shared instant forgetting your anger for him. “What?”

“Take the blaster.” He explains bluntly.

This time a snort escapes you, “a blaster?”

“Yes.” Poe deadpans.

You quickly frown, “you’re serious.” Rubbing the bridge of your nose you sigh, “I can’t take it.”

“What? You don’t know how to use it?” Poe asks smugly.

“No, I do, but it’s just not me….blasters are just so….” your face scrunches up and you pick up the blaster with the tip of your fingers in an almost disgusted manner. “They’re just so—can I use my lightsaber instead?”

Poe shakes his head, “no, I don’t trust you with them. You’re too good with them, you could cut my team without blinking and then leave, so no, sorry Princess, you get what you get.” He then follows by leaning closer and maneuvering your hand to the parts of the blaster. “And if you don’t know how to use it; hit the trigger and then shoot with this end pointing at the enemy.”

You frown and anger boils up again, watching him shoot you a smirk before his face was hidden behind the features of his black helmet, waving you over to follow him and his squadron; that was surprisingly made up of more of his black armored stormtroopers this time.

But as he did instruct you to follow, you didn’t and just fell by Finn's side. “What are we doing on Navarro anyway?” You question the only person you talked to outside of Poe and the only one you weren’t currently upset at. “I doubt we’re here for the Twi’Lek healing baths.”

“Nomad is here to meet with someone.”

“Who?” You interject rather quickly.

Finn shrugs, “a collector and bounty hunter; some Mandalorian. I don’t know he was being cagey.”

You hum and think out loud, “I didn’t know they existed anymore.” But then come to another conclusion, “but why did he bring me? There's no need for me here.”

“You prefer being in your room?” Finn counters.

“Well...no, but I just...nevermind.” Expressing one last huff you don’t finish what you’re going to say and instead focus on the tavern you were guided too, noting right away the few people inside all minding their business until Nomad and his pack of plastic followers walk inside disrupting the peace. Building a thick tension in the small area that only thickened as in the corner sat a single Mandalorian in red and white armor, it’s head lifting to most likely look at the man it was waiting for; following his movements as he turned back around and walked towards Finn and you.

“I’ll be back, I need to handle something, stay here while I’m gone.” Nomad instructs, his helmet facing Finn and then turning to face you. “Use the blaster if you need it, okay?”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest while you look away and hear him and his squadron leave through a back door, leaving only a selected few to patrol the area. Leaving Finn and you to sit on the bar in silence that he was quick to break with an enthusiastic question. “Birthday drinks?”

A smile even if you tried can’t help but spread on your lips.You weren’t much for drinking, only on rare occasions, but you knew he was excited and his gesture was meaningful, so you had no choice but to accept. Being left alone, or well not really, but since none of the other troopers were even close or paying attention, you were basically alone while Finn went to get what he offered; a poor and unintentional choice on his behalf since you were quick to get lost in your loud thoughts. Still absorbed by the stupid anger Poe’s forgetfulness left you in.

Unaware of the fact as you fought your thoughts and feelings that someone beside you was eyeing you, recognizing you straight away and speaking out loud in a voice that both startled you and sounded so familiar. “Y/N?”

Your eyes widen and with one hand you try to reach for your blaster, but freeze as from the corner of your eye the face registers in your mind. “Uncle Lando.”

“Kid, what are you doing here? Your—”

“Shh,” you breathe out, dropping your hand back to your side and picking up your guard—only not for the man sitting beside you, but of who could walk through those doors at any moment. “You know I would’ve loved to catch up any other time, but as of right now I’m sorry to cut this meeting short.” Snatching a napkin left on the bar you then have to ask, “do you have something to write with?”

He blinks but takes out something, handing it to you as he asks. “You’re with the first order aren’t you? What can I do?”

You glance around and shake your head, not hesitating even for a moment to jot down the old and new piece of information you had collected; “I want you to take these coordinates and transmit them only to C3PO or Artoo, no one else. They can give it to Ben or my aunt Leia.” You smile as you pass the piece of information to him, having to look ahead as to not give him away. “Don’t try and fight these people, just take it okay?”

He hesitates at your instructions, wanting just like his group of his friends to break the rules. But unlike them he was more rational and did what he was told. Thank the force—“okay I’ll do it now.” He stands up to leave, but before he does he walks behind you and hastily as well as briefly wraps his arm around your shoulders. “Happy birthday, junior. Hope we cross paths under better circumstances soon.”

You grin and want so badly to leave with the man next to you, but knowing if you did you'd put his life in danger. So for now all you had to do was wish and watch him leave—“we will. Thank you, uncle Lando.”

Before he leaves he places a very gracious amount of money on the table in front of you—A present you quickly came to recognize. And like all the times before, an expensive one.

“Hey, sorry I took forever. I almost had to fight some women for these drinks.” Finn finally returns whilst explaining in an annoyed tone.

“No worries,” you dismiss him, turning your head to watch him place the drinks in front of you. “Now I won’t have to think of my escape.” You feign a laugh, seeing him hesitate as he saw the money before you.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Oh,” dragging the money off the table, you shove it into your pocket and offer him a reassuring smile. “Poe gave it to me. I was just counting it.” Avoiding having to explain further, you take a big gulp of your drink and feel the tension rise again. This time it was something that lasted until you finished your blue drink, slamming the cup down and shooting Finn an innocent smile he didn’t find a meaning behind. Instead drank his own blue drink, making a distasteful face as the liquid hit his tongue. Beginning to mutter something until he stopped himself and put his helmet back on, staying seated and making you anxious at the sudden drop in mood and raise in tensed silence.

Silence broken by a blunt, “we have to go.”

Having no other choice, you follow Finn and the rest of the left over stormtroopers out, finding it strange right away as they were all sent back to the ship. All except for the both of you that kept walking deeper into the small town and then out, walking on grey stone and feeling the blaze from the distant lava that scattered around the planet. Seeing nothing for a couple of miles but sad, grey scenery; both in land and above. Spotting a couple long minutes later of endless walking, Nomad and two others behind him; in front of them the Mandalorian that you saw before, it’s helmet turning to face you, tilting slightly too whilst stopping its words it muttered to try to step towards you. It’s attempts stopped quickly as Nomad blocked its path.

“Tell you what, General, new deal. The girl for what you seek.”

Nomad doesn’t even take time to think of his answer, snapping back in an intimidating modified voice. “No. That was never the deal.”

The Mandalorian lets out a loud huff and places its hands on the handles of its blasters. “There's a bounty on her head worth more than your pounds of gold placed by her family. Do you know who she is or need I inform you?”

“She wouldn’t be with me if I didn’t know,” Nomad countered, his own gloved hand going to the handle of his vibrosword. “And she’s not some prize you can just take, or fight for. She was never the deal. We have our deal. Take it—”

“I’ll leave it.” The Mandalorian snaps back, in a blink of an eye, pulling out its blasters and shooting the two stormtroopers behind Nomad before threatening said man with its loaded blasters. Both pointing at one another with their weapons. Leaving Finn and you still in the same position as before, your own weapons ready just in case. “I’m taking the girl. Deals off whether you like it or not.”

“No.” Nomad argued sharply, “I need what you promised!”

The Mandalorians head tilts and it clicks its tongue under its helmet. “And I said, deals. Off. Tell your master that if he wants it he can come get it himself.”

Nomad’s hold tightens around his vibrosword, his head turning to face you for a moment that seemed like it was forever when in fact it was only a minute. One minute he took before he spun on the back of his heels to pull out his other blaster and shoot a man that had jumped out of hiding. A sudden action that caused you to gasp and be left in a silent surprise; an expression that lasted only seconds as a cascade of unfortunate events unfolded because of who Nomad shot.

Forcing you to hide after your blaster was shot out of your hand, not noticing Finn knocked out until he fell unconscious next to you.

“Finn?!” You suddenly cried out, catching the approaching gang of scoundrels rush towards you with determined and raging glares. Causing you to jump to your feet and look beside you to notice the blaster consumed by the small lake of lava. “Shit.” You look ahead again and see the gang approaching fast, but in the chaos that the day turned out to be, you also saw the freedom you craved as Nomad was weaponless on the ground just feet away.

Leaving him to get killed by the Mandalorian would make everything much easier, make your own goals be accomplished, make these people, even if it was for the money, take you back to the family you missed, closer to feel the force flow within you again.

Nothing would be easier than to give yourself in. But again as your eyes fell on Nomad your mind fought the battle that brewed inside you too, outweighing the choice to leave and leaving you with nothing but your own morality and despair to reach him in time. An insistence that made you break into an adrenaline packed sprint, feeling as the hot wind hit your face like you were running almost in slow motion, feeling like you were unable to reach him in time to stop the Mandalorian. Feeling utterly helpless without the force you needed, feeling the inkling of the same feelings you felt that night seven years ago.

But unlike that tragic night, this time you ran fast enough, you managed to reach Nomad before he was killed. Managing to pick his vibrosword off the ground and sliding on your feet to land perfectly in between the two, redirecting the blast the Mandalorian shot with the blade in your hand, hitting his unprotected throat and seeing in a matter of seconds its body fall lifeless to the warm ground.

The sight made you smirk just as you got to your given height and faced the now stunned gang, their bravery even if you couldn’t feel it through force, dwindling and burning away as they saw their leader dead by your feet. Some daring to come after you, but stopped as Finn awoke from his short unwanted slumber and shot them down in an act of surprise. Leaving the weak to run away before they could be killed too.

“Are you okay?!” Finn yelled out from where he was, wobbling as he struggled to get back to his feet.

You shot him a thumbs up as a response before turning to face a helmetless Poe struggling to get up. His brown eyes slowly lifting to notice your hand out in front of him before they locked with your own gaze. Noticing the small assuring smile that hid the sizzling anger you still felt towards him.

——

“Do you need help?” You ask Poe hesitantly. Not because you didn’t want to help him stitch his wound, but because for the past ten minutes after returning to the ship, you’ve fought yet another battle inside your mind on whether you should come help. Feeling the anger never leave, poisoning your mind more and more the deeper you thought of him forgetting a fact that he most likely didn’t care about.

Thinking about it now still made you boil over.

It was stupid and annoying, but it admittedly hurt the deepest chambers of your heart. Your uncle Lando’s comment only cured so much.

Why? Why did it have to be like this?

“I,” Poe’s eyes go from the needle in his hand and then lift up to you, sighing out his response as he pushes his hand out to you, “yeah, could you please.”

You offer a quick nod and wash your hands before walking towards him, swallowing thickly as you tried to ignore the sight of his exposed upper body, or the feeling of his warm skin under the tip of your fingers. Concentrating instead on the bad stitching on his still very much open wound that bled on his shoulder. “H-how were you even trying to do this without a mirror?”

His head lowers and he shrugs his right unharmed shoulder, sighing deeply while his head rises again, wanting to look over his shoulder to look at you, but deciding to keep his eyes on the wall instead. “Why did you come back? You could’ve let them take you back to your family, away from where you’re heading back to. Why did you even save me? I thought you hated me.”

You stop what you’re doing at his questions, leaving one of your palms resting on his smooth back, while your other hand held onto the needle, hearing your heartbeat suddenly pick up its rhythm inside your chest. Your mind hesitating for a moment to answer with the responses you had no time in coming up with. Truthfully it was a surprise you were even going to answer him the way you were—“because it was the right thing to do.”

“What? Come back to your cell?” He interjected.

You sigh, choosing to continue with what you had been doing as you continued to explain. “No, go back and help you. It was the right thing to do, I couldn’t just let you die; no matter what you’ve done. I wasn’t raised like that.” You let silence surround the small room for a brief moment to really piece your answer for his last question, feeling tension grow between you both the longer you remained quiet. Answering abruptly only before he could utter a word. “And I don’t hate you.”

Another brief pause takes place, this much quicker to break than the other. “I don’t hate anyone. Hate doesn’t lead you to anything good, I’ve learned that the hard way.”

Poe responds with silence, his head once again lowering after you finished, his body remaining still with only his eyes following your figure moving around the room until you stayed leaning by the cot across from him, speaking just above a whisper. “Well, thank you.”

You sigh and force a smile, “yeah.” With nothing else shared, you push your body off the cot and only take one step before Poe stops you.

“Wait, don’t go just yet.”

Your eyes flicker up to him and your heart races all over again.

“Now that we're alone, I wanted to give you something.” Poe reaches for his coat, digging his hand into a pocket hidden inside the clothing to pull out a small square silver box.

You scoff, “if it’s a pack of cigarras, thank you but I told you I don’t find them appealing.”

A small smile tugs on his lips as he shakes his head to turn down your comment. “It’s not that, just open it.” he extends his hand out to offer you the small box; making your face burn hotter than the lava that surrounded Navarra, causing your stomach and heart alike to do all types of flips inside you. Making your attempts slow as you took the box from his hand, feeling your fingers brush against his, but that particular feeling so small and unmatched to the feeling exploding within you now as you held the box in your hands.

“Okay,” you words tremble, glancing at him and then back to the box to pull the top off. Hesitating for a moment as you notice a small white silk cloth covering what was underneath; thinking at that instant, fuck, fuck, fuck—but continuing nonethless with shaky hands and a shaky breath that was suddenly sucked in as your eyes finally captured what the box contained.

Stars. Stupid…

“Poe…” you gasp, “what is this?”

He grins shyly, but also smugly. How did he do that?—“it’s a bracelet. I was going to give it to you in the morning, but Finn was there so I chose to save it for later.”

You try to swallow back a lump that had been quick to form in your throat as you studied the silver clasp snake chain charm bracelet inside the box; but you were unable to fully contain what threatened to show. Feeling your chest tighten more as your eyes stung with annoying tears the moment you also noticed the two silver star charms that were already decorating the bracelet. Poe’s continuing comment breaking you from your trance.

“I know you like admiring the stars from the room, and liked to do so even before, so now when you can’t see them outside you need only look down.” His voice softens and you swore by everything that you could hear his smile in his voice. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

No, no. Fuck, he can’t make you feel any type of warm and heart fluttering, exploding kind of way, no, no way. You were just angry at—fuck. Who were you kidding….

Finally being able to break away from the thoughts that barged through your mind, your eyes blink up to meet his already intent and soft gaze, hiding your watery gaze by going to him and wrapping him in a sudden embrace that caught him by complete surprise. Leaving him utterly clueless on what to do for a couple of seconds until your tightening hold snapped him back; letting him finally return your embrace with a hesitant hold at first, but soon tightening it around you just like you had with him. Hearing your words whispered by his ear that sent shivers down his spine—“thank you, Poe. You didn’t have to get me anything.”

Poe smirked and remarked your comment to try and hide what he felt brewing inside him. “You thought I forgot, didn't you?”

You scoff and break away instantly, lying straight through your teeth. “No, I didn’t actually.”

Poe snickered, “you did, I noticed you’ve been mad at me all day. But don’t worry I never forgot about you, Princess.”

Unable to give a coherent response you choose to scoff instead and choose to spin around to leave, not getting far as Poe caught your arm in time and whispered by your ear. “I’ve never forgotten about you,” he turns you around to face him again, the current position you were in making you squirm under his hold, unable to meet his eyes like you had moments ago. Hearing his lips part to add more instead—or rather nothing as he closed his mouth, not sharing what he planned and instead tilting your head up with his knuckle, making your eyes meet his dark ones. Letting him lean his face closer to you. Feeling his hand that was wrapped around your arm, slowly travel down to your hand, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to rise and your skin to grow goosebumps as his warm hand snaked past every inch of it.

The gentle touch almost felt in some ways euphoric or like that feeling when one drinks water in the middle of the night. It made you want to pull away but let him touch so much more. But he didn’t touch anything else, or say anything, he only smiled sweetly and began to gently caress your cheek.

“I-I” you stammer out before your eyes roam down to his lips, getting the strong temptation to just lean in and really, truly feel what his lips felt like, what they taste like and not having to only imagine it, or relay off a dream.

Every part of your body screamed at you to do it, nothing was stopping you; no sudden interruption or nagging thought to run away. You could and wanted to do it like you needed it to breathe—So you did it. You leaned in to close the gap without saying anything more, feeling your cheeks burn and your heart hammer inside your chest. All of it albeit brushing off as your lips brushed against his, but only that as he swiftly swerved you and kissed your cheek instead. Leaving you stiff and confused while he uttered words you barely caught. “Happy birthday, baby.” The teasing fuck then pulled away and moved around you, stopping as he reached the ships hall to throw back one comment you heard him say through gritted teeth, “Oh and Snoke wants to see you.”

First, fuck Poe; the anger you felt for him before had left your body, but now it returned with more raging fire. Second, great. This was going to be absolutely fantastic.

——

“Skywalker, it’s been some time.” Snoke greets coldly, not even acknowledging Poe on his knee next to you. “Truly your presence has been missed my friend.”

Ew.

Taking your silence and glare as a response, he proceeds by standing from his seat and walking down to be just a couple feet away to then wave someone over from behind you. His pale face soon thereafter decorated by an ugly wicked grin that you identified was caused by the brunette that walked to his side with a long hovering object at her side, and a sly smile shot at you.

“I have two gifts for you. One will be shown tomorrow in the form of a ball, or party, whichever term you may like to call it. But today my faithful apprentice and I both wanted to gift you something...special for such an important day.” Snoke continued proudly and with malicious intent, glancing at Rey to give her a knowing nod. “If you would.”

Rey doesn't hesitate and Poe stands to his feet the moment she lightly pushes the hovering object in front of you; glancing at you behind her hood to share a mischievous smirk as she uncovered the hovering object to reveal a box.

“Go ahead, Skywalker, It’s for you.” Snoke urges.

You hesitate to do as Snoke, glancing at Poe; the only person you trusted here. Someone who noticed your hesitance and shared an unsure but assuring nod. It didn’t precisely make you at all excited to actually do as instructed, but you did so because you knew it wasn’t really a suggestion.

And in that moment you began to reach the box to unveil what was hidden within you got a horrible gut wrenching feeling and felt a cold chill slither down your spine.

Feelings that horrifyingly intensified and became much greater the moment you threw the top back and identified the object within. Darth Vader’s burnt helmet.

——

(Ben’s P.O.V)

“If it’s a fight you want Ben,” she uttered confidently, pressing the button on her lightsaber to reveal the double blades that emitted from her hilts, and that almost blended with the blood red background. The only thing that distinguished the two was the humming sound coming from her lightsaber.

“It’s a fight you’ll get.” She finished, forcing Luke to summon his own lightsaber from his side and welcome it to his open hand, pressing down the button to activate the lightsaber and show a steady humming bright blue blade.

Upon noticing the changing fact, Rey smirked, twisting her lightsaber in a fluid movement as she watched Luke begin to walk behind her, trapping her between Ben and him. Causing a change that should’ve knocked down her confidence a notch or two, but that did what appeared to be the opposite, as she confidently lunged at Ben first.

Causing Ben to react quickly, hastily avoiding her blade by moving to the side—Rey then without a fault spun around and tried to surprise Luke by swinging down, but he was too skilled and caught her actions, avoiding her swing and looking at her with a disapproving look that made her grip onto her hilt with both hands and swing her other end at him. Her shoulders visibly stiffening as Luke again maneuvered out of the way.

Ben couldn’t help the pride build within himself at the scene in front of him, almost wanting to smirk at the fact that Rey seemed to be getting angry at Luke’s dodges. But that was the keyword, almost, because Ben took the opportunity Rey was distracted and strided closer to her; lifting his lightsaber to jab down on her back. Only getting surprised as Rey spun on her heels to clash her red blade against the blue just in time, lifting her leg and kicking Ben back.

Said man remained in balance and slid on his feet, glaring at the determined girl as she strode towards him, swinging her double blades but being met every single time with a clash, or quick dodges that ticked her off more each time. Enough so that she let out an angry bellow and dug her heels to the ground before running towards Ben. Turning her lightsaber in her hand to go for a high swing.

Ben quickly blocked her and was about to retaliate until her voice interrupted his action. “I can help you, show you the ways of the dark side,” she put out, her gaze consumed by the red lights below, narrowing her gaze on his currently unmoving stance, “you could join your cousin. Be stronger. The three of us could be stronger together.”

Ben blinked, “three? What about your Masters pet?”

Rey ignored that specific question and chose to continue with her plan on distracting him, her gaze unwavering unlike Bens; whos eyes searched her face, causing the reflection of the lightsabers hues to change from red and blue as he searched deeply to find the lie or the truth on her face—or really to take a second to debate her offer. “Think about it, Ben, more power than you have now. The anger that clouds you, I can help you with. You can be better than Darth Vader. We—”

“Ben!” Luke bellowed, stopping her words and letting Ben’s eyes snap over Rey’s shoulder. Distracting him from the move Rey began to play out, letting her continue to move back and fake a high swing that she swiftly switched up as Ben’s attention went on her again.

He moved his lightsaber to block her until she deactivated her blades and hastily dropped her hilt to catch it with her other hand. Smirking as the red blades reappeared again and she swung up in intents to slash his torso. Failing nonetheless as she didn’t count on the force Luke used to pull her back to hit the ground and only letting her blades cut Ben’s black tunic.

“Sorry.” Luke shrugged nonchalantly, his hands clasping in front of him as he watched Rey’s face turn red out of anger. “I’ll tell you what I would tell Ben. Breathe, anger doesn’t do you nothing good.”

A small growl left Rey’s lips as her hand clutched on her hilt, parting her lips to talk back, but not managing to say much as Ben stomped forward, spinning his lightsaber and lifting his blue blade over his head to try and impale Rey.

But right as he was going to complete his action, Rey lifted her legs and kicked him back with all her pent up anger; knocking his breath out of his lungs and causing him to fall to the ground with his lightsaber now several feet away from his hand—Rey used this advantage to swiftly push herself back to her feet and fluidly spin back to face Luke, swinging half of her red blade at him, but not surprisingly, creating bright sparks as the red blade clashed with the blue. The colors mixing and creating a purple hue that basked their faces as they remained still while Luke spoke out words that caught her off guard.

“It’s not too late,” he spoke, her glare faltering, “I could help you, teach you the ways of the Jedi. Take you away from the anger that clouds you and the master who manipulates you. It’s not too late, you can change, I can sense it.”

Rey stiffened as she remained struck with flooding emotions, trying to unscramble Luke’s words as she heard Snokes echo and the dark side pull back stronger. Only creating a silent waiting tension that broke as “reason” hit her again—“no. You can’t manipulate me! I will not fall!” She seethed, moving back and gripping onto her hilt with both hands again to fight back, throwing an angry remark beforehand. “But your daughter will! And she’ll be the monster you’ll fear the most.”

Luke remained unphased and spoke as so. “My daughter is stronger than you think, than your master thinks. She won’t fall.”

Rey cocked her head slightly to the side and grimaced, “we’ll see.” And then in a brisk move she stepped forward, swinging one red blade to meet the blue before her jaw clenched and she swung the other end; catching him before he could block her by closing the extended hilt and trapping his blade between hers.

Her confidence overcame her, thinking she had won before the fight was over, before Luke skillfully turned around to her other side. Twisting her lightsaber along with him and leaving her disarmed and steaming with anger. Something that caused her to throw her hand out and summon Ben’s lightsaber to her hand, gasping as she felt a force pull it back, fighting against her.

Rey turned around and saw Ben on his feet, his hand out trying to pull his lightsaber to himself as well, creating a tug of war against each other that increased in intensity as they both fought harder. Creating the same scene from the force connection; both groaning and grunting as they fought. Only this time not to push each other away, but to reach for something that shouldn’t have even been fought for in the first place, something that was just fought for because of the anger they both had. Blinding both and adding a tension to Ben’s lightsaber that was unknowingly making the kyber crystal within crack.

“Ben, let go! Leave her!” Luke tried to reason, but it was only going in through one ear and shooting out the other. “Ben! Listen to me, let go of your anger! Breathe! She isn’t worth it let go!” Luke bellowed again, dropping Rey’s lightsaber and trying to make Ben understand without wanting to intervene with the battle in front of him. “Ben, y/n still needs us! Let go! Ben—”

Luke’s words suddenly cut off as something red flew through the room and hit Rey’s shoulder, sending her flying back and the hold she had on the lightsaber to be dropped out of a sudden.

Both Ben and Luke looked back and by the entrance stood Mara with a blaster in hand and a determined expression set on her features. Leaving Ben stunned and amazed.

“No more time to gawke, it’s time to go.” She explained, waving both men over; making them both listen and rush towards her to then run out of the room and down the same halls to get back to the Falcon. Leaving a moment of just silence that made Ben wonder out loud.

“Why did you go back? I thought my uncle Luke took you back to the ship?”

The man in question responded with nothing in his defense and instead focused on getting out, letting Mara answer instead. “He took me halfway and I decided to go back because I knew something was going to go wrong. You’re welcome.”

Ben’s mouth was left open, unable to speak any words, just let silence take over instead all the way until they reached the already started up Falcon, with Chewbacca waiting by the ramp, his shoulders dropping at the realization of the missing person.

He expressed his concern and Ben answered hesitantly as he climbed inside and walked past him. “She-she’s not here.” Not waiting for another question, Ben hurried to the cockpit where his father was waiting, his face like his mother’s dropping their excitement, as like Chewbacca they noticed the missing person they were here for in the first place. And before they could question the absence, like Ben knew they would, he interrupted their thought, “she wasn’t here, we have to go before they blow us up.”

They said nothing, but look at one another and then at Luke walking past Ben. He hadn’t meant to be so harsh when he answered, but he didn’t have the time or patience. All he could think about was letting his cousin down, failing and falling for the trap Rey had supposedly laid, the anger that he felt built more and more inside him, towering to a point it felt like it was going to tumble over and bring his composure down with it. Nothing felt like it could calm him down, not his family, his old master or Mara. Not the thought that he could save his cousin because he was failing at that. His anger was becoming overwhelming, clouding him. The only thing that seemed to distract him from imploding was the sudden violent shake on the Falcon.

“Oh no,” his father expressed, removing his hand from the hyperspace lever.

“Oh no what?” His mother questioned wide eyed.

“It’s not wanting to jump to hyperspace.” He stressed, his hand jumping all over the control board, avoiding another blast that threatened to hit the ship.

“What do you mean?” Luke followed, “I thought you were here fixing the ship the whole time?!”

“I was!” Han snapped back.

“Then?!”

Han turned to look back at Luke to point his finger at him, his annoyance for the situation clear as day. “I’ve got it handled.” He turned around quickly and began to give Chewbacca instructions, demanding answers for the problems, but receiving nothing but another hit that shook the whole Falcon.

“If we don’t get out of here, they’re going to blow us out of space.” Ben added to the tension.

“Not exactly,” Mara spoke up in an excited tone, a grin spreading on her face before she rushed out of the cockpit. Reappearing moments later through Hans headpiece, her intentions instantly explained as blasts from the Falcons gun began to shoot out at the TIE’s after them.

“At least someone’s thinking.” Han quipped, his attention wavering from flying, to helping Mara and trying to fix the Lightspeed problem. Causing Ben to move along and distract himself with that, going all around the boards, pushing, pulling and changing anything he could think of. Turning out that the stress this was causing was not the best for his already building up anger. Just as he was going to complain, his mother’s voice broke through.

“I did it.” She smiled, making Han turn to her stunned, in slight awe and admiration. “Maybe it’s time to retire, flyboy.”

Han scoffed and smirked, turning back to focus his attention on leaving, “Punch it, Chewie!”

This time the action came out successful; seeing the blue and white streaks of hyperspace fly past them. Dropping Ben back to his anger as well.

——

“Think about it, Ben, more power than you have now...”

No.

Ben grabbed his lightsaber from his side and set it on the table, taking it apart to see the blue kyber crystal that was once complete, cracked and unable to give full life to his lightsaber as it did before. Now it sputtered as it activated, steamed almost, like at any moment it was going to explode. All because of Rey.

“The anger that clouds you, I can help you with…”

No.

He took a deep breath and tried to find a solution to heal his kyber crystal, unaware that his hand was clenching so tight under the table that his nails broke his skin until it bled. Unaware of the pair of eyes carefully watching him from across the room.

“You can be better than Darth Vader...”

No.

“Ben.”

Said man clenched his fist tighter, flinching slightly at the sudden call of his name from the girl approaching.

“Mara,” He uttered deeply, meeting her gaze only briefly before he focused on his cracked crystal again. “Are you still mad?”

Mara sat across from him in the booth and rested her arms on the table, shaking her head, “I understand why she had to hide her real identity, but I just don’t get why you guys didn’t trust me enough to tell me...or atleast her.”

Holding the crystal between his thumb and pointer finger, Ben sighed, “don’t take it too personally, my cousin isn’t good with people, she prefers talking to ghosts or family. It takes her time to get comfortable around some people.” his eyes slid to the side to meet her dark ones, “she used to get bullied by the other kids in the temple when she was younger because of who she talked to that's why...just don’t tell her I told you. She’s never talked about it.”

Mara hummed in comprehension, folding her arms over the table and admiring the crystal in Ben’s fingers—“what’s wrong with it?”

Ben shrugged, running his hands through his long hair, “it’s cracked and unstable now. I need to fix it to make my lightsaber work...but I haven’t found a way yet. If you have any, I’m open to hear them.”

Mara giggled, “I know nothing about lightsabers just that they’re actually heavier than I expected.”

Ben smiled slightly, feeling his anger subside for a moment, but not enough. She wasn’t enough.

“I can help you find jai—y/n.” Mara continued, making Ben frown.

“No,” he shook his head, putting the crystal back into his lightsaber, “the only clue to where she could be ended up being a trap.”

“So, you’re going to give up?”

“No.” Ben snapped quickly, a sharpness in his tone he didn’t mean. “She’s still out there. As long as she is, I'm going to look for her.”

Chewbacca from where he sat in the Falcon, added to Ben’s statement, making Ben agree. “Chewbacca is right, we only know she might be in another star destroyer. No where. She could be anywhere in this galaxy. It could take months to find her. Months my mother and you don’t have time to keep looking. You both need to get back to base.”

“What about you?”

Ben only briefly glanced at her as he responded, “I told you already, as long as she’s out there I’m going to look. She needs me.” He looked into the depths of the crystal on the table, once again clenching his fist, breathing in deeply and exhaling out slowly. The topic he was talking about made his fist shake and his jaw to clench tightly. Made him roll his head to the side to try and cool his anger. The darkness that seeped through, biting down on him and not wanting to let go, trying to drag him down completely with no trace to be left.

No clarity…

“Ben!” His mother suddenly called, pulling his gaze to her entering the room with a hopefulness in her eyes. “It’s a message from Lando...from y/n.”

Ben instantly dropped what he was doing and rushed to follow behind his mother, hearing Mara and Chewbacca trial behind as well until they returned to the cockpit where the first thing he noticed was a small hopeful smile on his uncle Luke’s face, as he like Ben’s parents gathered around the comm with C3P0’s voice speaking out.

“Oh I feel so honored that master y/n, would trust me with such important information. I do hope she’s well—”

“Threepio.” Ben’s mother cut off the blabbering droid sharply. “The information.”

“Oh right,” the droid exclaimed, “Master Calrissian sent a personal message to me from Master y/n that only reads “05251977-05251983, Wing B”. It looks to be some coordinates. Oh, by the force what could it mean?”

The group inside looked at one another to try and understand the small piece of information, not grasping right away until Mara pointed it out. “It coordinates to the star destroyer she’s on.”

“Exactly,” Leia added excitedly, “and the last piece of information is where she is on the ship.”

Han chuckles, “that’s my girl! Smart like her uncle.”

Luke scoffs from where he sits but adds nothing but a narrowed gaze shot at Han.

“Okay, goldenrod thank you so much for your help,” Han shouted out to comm as his finger hovered the button to turn it off after adding one last thing before the droid could speak up. “bye!”

The cockpit falls in silence for a long tense moment that Ben breaks seconds later with a final happy smile, “we found her.”

.

.

.

A/N- a little drop of jealous Luke because Han called Luke’s daughter his girl 😌 lmao anyway hope you all liked and be ready for what’s to come :)

Tagged- @thescarletknight2014​ , @softly-sad​ , @golden-guide​ , @abysshaven​ , @a-dorky-book-keeper , @kit-jpg​​ , @mybarnesmyhero , @zoeyangels, @algenforthewin, @leilei-draws

Permanent taglist- @ms-dont-care​ , @commondazy , @paintballkid711

[dreamwatchpro-wrestling]

Dreamwatch: REMember (Match 1)

Elimination 8-Man Tag Match: Takaya Kiryu/Johnny McLaren/Katsu Himuro/Yamato Ryukawa vs Shota Inaba/Keiichiro Asakawa/Ewan Jacobs/Tatsuya Mido (Click here to watch!)

We start off this historic show with a huge tag match! Four of Dreamwatch's most promising talents face off against a litany of mystery opponents! Who knows what could happen in this match? Who will stand out?!

Short answer: Everyone. Everyone stood out. From the first minute of the match we knew we were in for a wild night when MMA fighter Shota Inaba decided to try and burn Ryukawa with fire! Ryukawa has faced off against Carlos Gomez in the past so he was more prepared for something like this than expected, ducking out the way despite being visibly shaken. From there the match was chaotic and frenetic, while simultaneously showing off the best qualities of every participant. Ryukawa's strategy, McLaren's striking prowess, Kiryu's speed, and Himuro's overwhelming intensity were all on full display as if they hadn't been on a hiatus at all! The enemy team was not willing to be stood up, though, as Tatsuya Mido provided the power and intensity of the team, even seeming to match Himuro's at times! Along with him was the heart and explosiveness of Keiichiro Asakawa. These two have only shown us Dreamwatch fans a glimpse of what they can do, but they did look promising out there! Ewan Jacobs looked like he came to do business, getting in the ring and hitting straightforward world-class punches like only a top-level MMA fighter can. Along with him was... "MMA fighter" Shota Inaba, who shocked everyone with his antics! Perhaps you expected a shoot fighter like Jacobs, but instead Inaba's most notable moments were breathing fire and pulling out a scythe to cut Himuro and bust him open! A wildcard to say the least!

As the match rolled on, the opposing team did well and even got off two eliminations, but the Dreamwatch team was too solid all the way through to take a loss here. Team Dreamwatch takes the victory in a chaotic and very fun opening match!

-POST MATCH COMMENTS-

*Ryukawa, Kiryu, and Himuro share a long, uncomfortable look at each other. Himuro then glances over to McLaren and the two share a look. There is no talking for a significant amount of time*

Himuro: *shoving Kiru and Ryukawa out of the way to get closer to the camera* This is the first show back and this is what you give to me. Those opponents... One of them tried to make me bleed to make a name for himself. He's an embarrassment. My heart pumps, and I have more heart than his frail body can muster. He made me bleed with his dulled tools, but I'd grind him into the ground with my bare hands. Also that shitty white-haired guy? He tried to be big and bad and he got embarrassed. Get these pieces of shit out of my ring and don't invite them back. Dreamwatch isn't a game, Dreamwatch isn't big paychecks. Dreamwatch is me. Don't step to the strongest if you're not strong. I'm done here. *Shoves his teammates out of the way to walk off-screen*

Takaya Kiryu: One legend, seven losers. This ain't a welcome party in my book. Let's not forget that I'm the most successful wrestler in Dreamwatch, I've beaten one of the most successful wrestlers in this business is under ten minutes, and yet I'm being put on the same level with the biggest disappointments in this company, facing a comedy act of a team. Gonna need a bit more love around here, considering I'm literally carrying the company on my back. I better be getting paid more than Ryukawa, at least. *Kiryu prepares to take his leave before stopping and turning to McLaren* Also... Johnny, right? I noticed the orange gear. You looking for my attention? Now that we're back, show me what you can do, yeah? I'm watching. *Kiryu takes his exit*

McLaren: I need new gear...

Yamato Ryukawa: We need to step it up now that we're back! My last big match resulted in a loss that cost me in a big way, and it seems like they're trying to replace us with... Whatever those guys were *laughs* It didn't work though, even though admittedly that Keiichiro guy... I've heard of him and he was pretty strong. Mido too... Regardless, I need to change my focus. There's still a struggle for supremacy in Dreamwatch, and no offense to you Johnny, I'm the only one that can stand at the top by the end of this. Now that I managed to avoid having my hair burned off of my head for the second time, I'll at least look good when I get there.

Johnny McLaren: Its good to be back everybody! I was getting ready to fight in the Blood Crown tournament before the hiatus, and I'm assuming that that's still going on, and the look on Ryukawa's face tells me he forgot...

Yamato Ryukawa: Sorry!

Johnny McLaren: I hope you've been working on those leg locks. I don't want to have a rival that's lost a step. No point in beating you then. Anyway, now that Dreamwatch is back its time to begin the long crawl. When I first got here, people didn't think much of me, and during the hiatus I meditated and thought back on how things went, and I can tell I'm in the right direction. Dreamwatch fans, get loud! Johnny's back baby!

--

Tatsuya Mido: Dreamwatch, huh... They ain't as tough as all the hype makes them seem. That hiatus makes it seem like you boys and girls are all crumbling under your own weight. Perfect opportunity for someone like me to swoop in and take over the whole operation. You need someone strong running things here. Invite me back, Dreamwatch. I dare you.

Shota Inaba: Look what I did to your boy, Dreamwatch! Look what I did to him! That win means nothing, that wasn't a real fight, but I let a present for that bitch! *holds up the sickle he used in the match to cut Himuro* A little souvenir from the baddest fighter on Earth! Nobody can touch me! If I see that tall fucker again I'll carve his ass up! See me one on one, boy!

Ewan Jacobs: That guy's an idiot but I like his energy! Anyway you already know who I am and if you don't you need to wake up and watch some world-class fighters instead of the bums you got here. It's Ewan Jacobs, the most infamous man in sports. Pro wrestling rules are dumb. Over the top rope eliminations, three second pins... idiotic rules for idiotic people and their low-life fans. Pro Wrestling is the most pathetic-

Keiichiro Asakawa: *Shoves Jacobs to the ground* Oy! Watch your damn mouth!

*Jacobs Lunges at Asakawa, and a brawl ensues backstage, with both men having to be separated from each other and escorted out of the building. A distant "I'll kill you!" is heard from Jacobs*

[kpopchangedme]

Two Sheep Staring at Stars | Mark Tuan [M]

Years ago, you couldn’t believe a man like Mark could really be your Soulmate. This morning, it’s his turn to find out, and he can’t believe you wasted all this time.

Protagonists: Mark Tuan & You

Word Count: 3.7k

Genre: NSFW - University - Friends - Soulmates - [Drabble 2k]

Prompts: “You heard me. Take it off.” + “Don’t you know how to knock?” 

Requested by: Anon

GOT7 | M.list

“What about you, Cece?” Your best friend rolled back her eyes at the boy’s intrusive question. His back was turned on you, but even from the entrance of the empty pub, you could hear him loud and clear. You walked over to their table, eager to meet her new classmates. Cece was nervous about starting her Engineering major, knowing she’d have to deal with a majority of male classmates. That’s why she had invited you to their first outing, but now that you were here, she looked quite at ease. It might’ve been the first week of University, but Cece always was the best at making friends after all.

“Of course not.” The entire table chuckled at her obvious reply. “You think I’d be out drinking with you in the afternoon if I’d found Her?” She smiled as soon as she spotted you and waved, scooting closer to another stranger so you could sit next to her.

“Her?” The man repeated in surprise, and you almost ran to the bench.

Hopefully, none of her new classmates were bigots.

“Cece likes women.” You enlightened, sitting and shrugging away your Fall coat and light scarf. Everyone turned like one at your unexpected entrance. You didn’t raise your head to meet their curious gazes.

“I’m gay.” She confirmed, immediately wrapping her hand around your shoulder. “Super super gay.”

“Is this your… Girlfriend?” The following question forced you to assess the man across you. The curious guy blinked, unbothered by whatever he read in your eyes. He was also the one who had asked her if she had met her Soulmate. Charming, you decide, enough for you to forgive his rudeness. He had dark wavy hair and soft brown eyes, quite built too. The other young man to his left unsubtly elbowed him, probably ashamed by his lack of manners.

Cece laughed, “Me and her?!” You joined in. As if. The single most stupid thing one could assume about you two, although men always thought this. Or rather they hoped, in many sick cases. “We’re just friends.” She enlightened, hugging you tighter. You had known each other whole life; your moms were best friends, and that basically made you spiritual sisters. “Y/n plays for the other team.”

“Oh,” the built man grinned, leaning above the table. The beer in his glass tilted dangerously, and it occurred to you they might already be drunk. You came as soon as you could after your Introduction to Greek Architecture class, but still, they had been there for a while. “Ever seen something like this?” He turned his head to the side, pulling his hair aside to expose a weirdly shaped pink birthmark behind his ear. After a heartbeat, you shook your head, offering a contrite smile. You had never seen a Soulmark like that.

Cece was pouring you a welcoming beer, purposefully ignoring this whole thing. Living in a world where everyone is bearing a mark that irrevocably ties them with their Soulmate can disinterest you real quick of the urgency of the Search.

You had heard of people like this guy, using the beginning of University to find their significant other amongst their new acquaintances. It made a lot of sense, an opportunity. Every pair that isn’t an abnormality usually has a link, a common interest that unifies them. Immediately after your reply, the man pouted, disappointed, and turned to his friend. You hadn’t even had time to properly greet anyone at the table yet. 

“Jackson!” The other guy protested, but he was already pulling down his shirt. A mark right under the man’s collarbone got exposed.

It was small as a dollar, and it contrasted with his immaculate skin by its bluish colour. A peculiar Soulmark, completed with three tiny dots on top. You blinked; it only was visible for half a second before the man freed himself, highly embarrassed. It was enough. You felt warm, stuffy. Glancing at Cece in shock, you realized she missed it, busy posting a story on her Instagram instead. The guys were distracted too, drunkenly bickering over ‘boundaries’, a concept the one named Jackson apparently often didn’t get.

Meanwhile, you were as breathless as someone who’d just received an uppercut in the stomach. Surely you were overreacting. You only saw that man’s mark for a fleeting moment. “Yours is so pretty, y/n.” Cece had once said when you were only six or seven years old, getting ready to take a bath. “No,” you had protested, staring at your bare skin in the mirror, “it’s like a dirty ink stain!” You always hated your Soulmark. Most people’s marks were colourful and gorgeous, often smaller. Cece’s was on her left boob, a peachy complex heart shape one. Some unlucky people had to bear them publicly, on arms, neck or even faces. Yours was dark and ugly, but at least it was easy to conceal. 

“So?” Jackson turned back to you, hopeful. He wasn’t ready to give up yet apparently. “What about Mark’s?”

Mark. Was that really it, the way you’d meet Him? You hadn’t even got to have a proper look at his Soulmark. You weren’t sure. You weren’t ready.

“I…” Gaping, you turned to that guy, Mark, who didn’t even meet your eyes, clearly sulking. He was unarguably beautiful, even with his messy hair and face flushed by alcohol. His traits were striking, eyes a perfect stretched moon crescent, nose long and narrow, heart-shaped lips… No way, that man was way out of your league. The Soulmate bound wouldn’t be that mismatched. You were as dull and common as it gets. “… Sorry.” You managed, and Jackson’s face fell, disappointed.

“Sorry.” Mark echoed, meaning for his friend’s behaviour. “Mark Tuan, East Asian Studies. I’ve been stuck with Jackson since kindergarten, please don’t mind him.” He met your gaze for a fleeting second, only long enough to nod and for your heart to skip a beat. You couldn’t tell if he was ever slightly rude or just shy.

“Y/n,” Cece interjected, in your stance, unaware of what that guy almost was for a second. “Classical studies, been stuck with me since the womb.”

Forcing a laugh, you rolled your eyes. “You aren’t that bad, Ce!”

And just like that. The moment passed.

Gathering all your hair with your free hand, you bend to spit your mouthful of toothpaste in the sink. Your Hair. Your second mission this morning, doing something with it is getting harder and harder. You’re growing it, and it’s been a pain in the ass. Your phone chimes in repetition, and you barely glance at it before rolling your eyes. Mark is supposed to pick you up in ten, but as usual, he’s early.

Mark: I’m here. [6:48]

Jackson: RISE AND SHINE TUAN! Where are you? I’m glad you are coming but you are wayyyyyyy too early. Doors open at 7:30. [6:48]

Jackson: I can’t see you? I’m outside the building! Where are you??? [6:48]

Mark: I’m at y/n’s place. We’re going together. [6:48]

Why would he write in the group chat when he knows Jackson has to be up already. The man won’t stop texting once he’s started. You’re sure Jinyoung is still in bed, at whoever’s he ended up with last night, cursing because his phone won’t stop vibrating.

Today is Sunday and it’s not even 7am; basically the weekend’ dawn.

Ignoring the texts that keep coming in, you finish your hair and hurry to put on base makeup. You might have agreed to attend Cece and Jackson’s robot presentation, but you don’t intend to look like a zombie there. That’s another downer about living in a world and knowing your Soulmate is somewhere out there. You might end up running into Him at an inconvenient moment, and even though it shouldn’t matter, you don’t want to look like shit. Your mom met your dad at the beach, and even after 35 years, she never shuts up about the ridiculous sunburn she had that day. Like he would’ve noticed, (he did, but obviously didn’t give a shit).

You’re busy blending a little bit of concealer under your eyes when the door to your studio opens. There’s no warning at all, just the sound of the knob turning. You probably forgot to lock it after you got your mail earlier. Jerking to face the intruder, you squeal in terror, ready to stab him with your concealer’ brush. It’s not a stranger though. In the doorframe, Mark seems as startled as you, staring you up and down with eyes wide in shock.

“Shit, Mark, you scared me!” Fuming, you walk over to hit him, but he barely flinches. “Don’t you know how to knock?!”

“I-I texted you I was coming up…” He looks away guiltily. “Lock your door if you don’t want people to walk in on you half-naked…” Shit. You’re only wearing your very see-through white cami dress. Highly embarrassed, you turn your back on him to rummage in the first drawer you find for something decent. The mortification of your exposure makes you forget to be mad. “Your neighbour, the cat enthusiast, let me in… The one who dresses like a hobo.” Your friend steps in and shuts the door as you put jeans on, probably wanting to preserve your intimacy from the rest of the corridor. 

“Jaebeom.” You reply mechanically, he is convinced you and Mark are hooking up despite you denying it many times. Still, he shouldn’t have let him in like that. It’s against the apartment complex’s policy, and he could get in trouble. Shaking your head, you throw a gray shirt over your inappropriate attire. “I think he has like… Five freaking cats now. Jaebeom’s more than an enthusiast if he were a woman everyone would call him crazy. Don’t you think it’s sexist in a way?” Carefully, you slide off your nightdress from under your clothes, staying covered. Behind you, Mark is oddly silent for someone that is usually very opinionated. You glance over your shoulder. He’s still standing in the doorway, looking like he has seen a ghost. “What? It’s never too early in the morning. Patriarchy isn’t gonna fuck itself, Tuan.”

This seems to shake him, and he steps forward with a strange urgency. “Take it off.” His jaw, that was dangling open, clenches.

You did not expect that reaction. “W-What?” It is now you that is completely shaken. Is Mark making a move? What should you do, reject him? He’s come a long way from that shy guy you met at the pub if because he’s seen a little skin he… Holy shit… You hadn’t thought about the mark on your back in years. You are not one of those who freak out at the idea of the Soulmate Bound.

“You heard me, take it off.” Mark stares at you, expression unreadable.

You force out a chuckle to ease the tension in the tiny one-bedroom apartment. Rolling up your shirt, you obey, exposing the darker spot in the middle of your back, it’s on your ribs to the right; your embarassing Soulmark. A sheep staring at stars, that’s how Cece always described it when you were kids.

He breathes out in disbelief, “Is… Is that yours?” His fingertips graze your mark, and it’s like an electric shock.

Tensing, you stare intently at the wall in front of you. “Obviously.” Releasing your shirt, eager to hide it, you snort. “Ugly, right?” Somehow you feel bad when you meet his accusatory glare like you’ve committed some sort of unforgivable sin. Oh.

“It’s mine.” He announces, clearly out of it.

“Mark.” You shake your head from side to side. He needs to get it. You need to clarify that giant misunderstanding. “There is absolutely no way. Our Soulmarks are just similar.” 

His face twists, “Are you shitting me? I can’t tell if you are serious right now.” In a heartbeat, Mark shrugs off his sweater, exposing his chest and toned abs. You focus your attention on the spot right under his collarbone; a bluish cloud shape with three dots… Despite the fact you all went together to the beach last spring break, you haven’t seen his birthmark since the first night you met. Your eyes narrow on it, trying to remember every detail. It’s true, it looks an awful lot like yours. It’s like… There’s something caught in your throat, and you can barely breathe. “You saw mine. That night.” When Mark goes on, you fawn your face, unable to stop your mind from running crazy scenarios. This can’t be. “Why didn’t you say anything? Is it because you hate the idea of being with me that much? I can’t believe I’ve been fee…” He catches himself just in time, throwing both hands to the ceiling.

“Mark, we’re gonna be late to the convention…”  Running a hand in your already messed up hair, you state this like a formality. Over with it! He’s acting insane. That’s not right. It cannot be. You’re someone that always avoids everything, confronting you on that can’t do any good. He should’ve known this. “Jackson and Cece’s presentation is–” When you attempt to walk away, Mark in on you in no time. He catches and spins you in his arms before you can protest.

“I don’t give a shit about their fucking robot.” His whisper makes you shiver treacherously. In your back, your Soulmark is throbbing, like it has a life of its own. Mark’s hand slides inside your shirt, creeping up your skin until it finds it. Maybe he’s right; maybe you really are a match. None of you needs to see to know he’s touching the right spot. In a daze, you press your fingertips on his. Mark’s skin is burning, and you can feel his heart beating almost like it’s your own.

“Shit.” You curse lowly, overwhelmed.

It’s clear he isn’t doing much better, and he presses you into him as though his life depends on it. Is that It? Mark leans in, nose brushing yours and breath fawning your lips. You seem unable to stay anchored in reality, and your response is impulsive, automatic. Cupping his face with your palms, you pull Mark into you. He finds your mouth even with both eyes closed, but stops there; hovering millimetres over a fine line that you are bound to cross.

“Is that It?” You dare aloud against his lips and feel them curl into a smile.

“If that’s not it… I think I’ll die when I meet Her…”

You both know the answer when you finally kiss though. You should’ve done it years ago. Should’ve jumped him on that very first night. 

“Fuck,” you are seeing stars, “you’re my Soulmate.”

Mark groans in reply, it’s instinctive, it’s animalistic, it’s carnal, and it ends you. Whatever string of sanity holding you back breaks. It has been mere seconds and you know you’ll be his forever. Mark halts the kiss to press his mouth on your throat as you throw your head back. He reaches to lift your shirt, unable to refrain from it. He wants to feel you all over his chest, skin to skin. It joins his sweater on the ground. You are far from protesting, already you are backing up to your bed, in the middle of the room. You aren’t sure who pushed or pull when you fall on it, chest to chest. You’re a messy mass of skin and bones, but it works, it fits.

You were made for this.

Heat courses through your veins, setting everything afire every time Mark’s tongue grazes a new spot. It’s obscene how much you crave each other, both feeling like breaking with every kiss. One. Your heart explodes. Two. More. Three. You lose your mind. Four. Never stop. Five…

Obviously, there’s no slowing this down, you’ve passed the point of no return. Your jeans are taken care of in under two minutes. Mark’s pants? You blink and they are gone. It’s a miracle, every hindrance to you touching each other disappears, it’s magical. You only realize you’re fully naked when he naturally falls between your legs. Mark rolls forward and you curl in delight. He pants kisses more and more inconsistent. He rubs himself between your legs again, burying his face in your neck. In all the years you’ve known each other, you never imagined you’d end up like this. You spread your thighs wider, allowing Mark to run his cock on your slit. When he brushes your clit, you curse, throwing your head back on the mattress. 

“M-Mark,” your voice is husky, and he raises his head to observe you, “now.” 

“Now?” He repeats, astounded, completely lost. You nod, fighting back many shivers. “But–”

“Now, or…” Your words turn to a gasp when he rolls his hips again, making you see all the stars of the milky way behind your shut eyelids. Now. You reach between your legs, aligning him to your entrance. In your palm, his cock is already wet from your juices. You’ve never been this turned on, your skin is tingling everywhere. “I-I can’t.”

Mark smiles, dropping to peck your lips. “Take our time another time?” You nod in a hurry and he chuckles, pressing you into the mattress. His tip enters your core languidly. “Okay, but only because you want me too much…” Mark finally agrees a little bit too smug for your usual taste.

Right now, you don’t find it in yourself to care. All your attention is on your bodies merging slowly. You stretch deliciously around his length as he sinks in. Despite what you requested, Mark is still taking his time. You give in to your impatience, reaching for his hips. Guiding him to you, you pull until he’s completely inside, pressed against your body. It’s amazing.

Mark is inside you, throbbing. You both lay there for a few heartbeats, revelling in this overwhelming sensation of proximity. Never has intimacy felt that great in the history of the world. You’re sure of it. You want to express this to him, and you lack the words, but one silent exchange seems enough for him to get everything. After a moment, Mark pulls away slightly to better slam back in, and you squeal in glee. Oh, shit. He’s done taking his time. He finds a rhythm quickly, hips meeting yours roughly. You raise your pelvis to help, body bouncing on the mattress with every thrust. It is loud, your apartment fills with filthy moans, sounds, and the creaking of your bed.

“I…” Mark grunts, brows sweaty from the strain. You reach for the headboard to push against him, you want more. “I w-won’t…”

Knowing what he means, you slide your calves up against his ribs, letting him hit a better angle. It’s deeper and rougher. If he won’t last long that’s fine. You couldn’t bear this tempo much longer either. He raises on his hands to allow you to raise your knees even higher on your chest. Your pelvis is now perfectly curved. When he slams in this time, he reaches that spot you wanted him too. 

“Oh f-fuck,” you gasp and your legs begin to shake, “M-Mark…” You cry when he hits it again, fervour renewed by your vocal reaction. “Shit shit shit.” 

Curses fall of your mouth, mixed with an incessant flow of praises. It’s so incredible you’re not there anymore, lost for good, away with the fairies. Mark doesn’t falter once he’s found what goes for you. He manages to stay in control long enough for you to break. You come so hard you stop making sounds altogether, almost going blind at the high of it. When you slowly return to your body, Mark is also done. His hips lag, and he empties himself inside you with triumphant last thrusts. 

Both of you are completely spent. Shattered, Mark falls next to you, sweaty and breath unstable. It takes a few minutes for you to muster enough will to move, but when you do, he’s pleased to welcome you on his chest. A sheep stargazing, you see it now. On him, your mark is way cuter somehow.

“Was it…” Mark trails off, after a while, hesitating. “Did you…” 

Your index tracing his Soulmark stills. Is he serious? You don��t get much more vocal than that. Besides, you can still feel the remnants of your orgasm down in the soles of your damned feet. It was crazy strong. 

You hesitate too before remembering Mark is also your friend. You can be honest with him. “Like a Tsunami,” you confess, “I’m deceased.”

Mark laughs proudly, pulling you closer. “Ha, me too…” He seems to ponder on something for a minute, letting a comfortable silence fall behind you. “I guess Jackson can shut up about us now. He wanted me to date you, even without our marks matching. He couldn’t–” 

“Oh. Shit.”

“What?” Mark frowns, confused by your interruption. “He’s just like that, you know? He cares, and he wanted me to be happy, even if it wasn’t with my Soulmate. But clearly, you’re It.”

“Jackson.” You repeat like a fatality, but still, he doesn’t seem to get it. “Cece. Their presentation.” 

“Holy shit!” Mark suddenly stands, probing around the room to gather his clothes. “We’re so late! They’ve been working on this for a year!” You can’t help but laugh, unable to be stressed when you’re in post-coital delight. As soon as you’re next to him, Mark pulls you into him for a back hug. He wraps his arms around you, kissing your elbow before whispering in your ear: “I bet you won’t laugh when they send Terminator to exterminate us.” This doesn’t tone down your amusement at all. “Ok, now… More clothes, less fun!”

“Take our time another time?” You ask, quoting him back as you pick up your underwear.

Mark snorts, “I have all the time in the world now that I have found you…”

GOT7 | M.list

[forkanna]

[AO3] [WATTPAD]

WARNING: Continued transphobia.

So I did try to put this up sooner, due to cilffhanger feelings, but didn't quite manage it. Hopefully you all forgive me!

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

Rise couldn't believe the level of disaster her life had reached. And all because she couldn't keep her mouth shut. Because by the time she had finished crying, scraping herself together and sending the shambles that had once been a lovesick fool back into the school, she knew exactly where the leak had occurred. Plugging that would have to be the first step. And then…

Then what would she do? Beg Ai to take her back? She took out the note, stared at it, and almost threw it in the nearest receptacle. But that wouldn't do. No… she had to hang onto hope that there was still time.

"I got this," she whispered to herself as she used the note to wipe her eyes, smearing her makeup. "I'll do my best." Fine but empty sentiment. She had to take things one step at a time.

And step one was…

                                                   ~ o ~

"CHIE!"

The bowl-cut-hair had barely stopped whirling around Chie's head from turning to face Rise when she was hit in the face, full force, with a bookbag. The blow knocked her from her chair in the Junes food court and she went sprawling to the ground.

"WHOA!" Yosuke burst out in sheer alarm. "Hey, wait a minute there, Rise-chan! Where's the fire?!"

"You wanna know who's fired? SHE'S fired, that's who!"

Still struggling to sit up, Chie looked a little silly with a bag-print reddening half of her face. "Wha… whahidme?"

"Rise, what is the meaning of this?" Yukiko gasped in exasperation as she crouched over her girlfriend, trying to help her up. "Are you upset about something?"

It took real, concentrated effort not to snap at Yukiko, as well — especially given the Captain Obvious question she had just asked. But she knew she was only trying to be kind, to look after all of her friends equally. So she bit back the scathing retort and focused on the situation at hand instead.

"I'm upset about a lot of things, every day. But this time it's because somebody doesn't understand what a secret is!"

"Me?!" Chie intuited. "Are you- hey, I'm no snitch! Wait, what secret are we… talking…"

The food court went silent. Which was partly because it was too early for dinner, so they were the only ones there, not talking to each other. Rise idly noticed it seemed like Teddie and Kanji were absent, but she was on a mission; she didn't have time to worry about their whereabouts.

Finally… "Oh."

"So you got it? Huh? You figured out how you just screwed everything up?!"

"Now just wait a whole second, okay?" Chie said in a slightly nervous tone as she began to struggle to her feet. "I didn't say- I mean, like, I just figured it came out! Right? Because it's a secret, and this is a small town, and like, c'mon!"

"Who did you tell?"

"I didn't tell anyb-"

"NO! No, don't give me any of that crap, because we both know you had to have told someone — you already told at least one other person! I didn't tell anybody else! So who was it?"

"It… it doesn't matter!" Chie was trying to hedge with a hopeful smile. "Really, like I said, it was gonna come out sometime! Do you really think Ebihara could hide that forever? Like, he's kinda snowing the whole school…"

"Shut up!" Rise snapped, as Yukiko covered her mouth with her hand in alarm at the sharp tone. "That wasn't your choice, okay? And like I said, if I didn't tell, and Ai-chan for fucking sure didn't tell, then there's only one person it could be! Because I-"

"Oh dear," Yukiko whispered.

"Hey! I didn't commit any crime!" Chie shot back, starting to get heated herself now as she clenched her fists. "Tell that to the drag queen you've been hanging around with — he's the one that's gonna catch hell if they figure out he's been using girls' bathrooms and stuff! He should at least tell us if he wants to-"

"It's my fault."

Rise was still shouting when she turned to Yukiko. "What?! I mean…" She cleared her throat, tried to take the volume down a notch. "What?"

"Chie told me. When we were… well, when we were alone, because we're best friends. As you know, because we have already discussed things… so I was the beginning of the problem. I'm sorry."

"Yuka…" Chie sighed, grimacing. Clearly, at some point she had realised what had happened, and shifted her tactic to protecting her significant other. Rise would have respected it… if they weren't both going to be on her list now. At least that cleared up the true reason Yukiko had gasped; it was a sound of recognition.

"Really? You?" Rise said, completely betrayed. And disappointed; that much must have been readily apparent, because the innkeeper hung her head in shame.

"Yes. And Chie was so conversational about it, I… didn't realise… you seem very upset about all the rumours that have started going around now. Did we… have we done something wrong?"

Rise let out an exasperated noise. "Are you kidding? Of COURSE you did!" In the back of her mind, she knew she was basically just coming down on them to sidestep the blame Ai had thrown her way, but she couldn't stop; they had to pay for ruining everything. Someone had to, and she couldn't face herself. Not at the moment. "Do you have any idea what life would be like for her if they figured out for sure?!"

"Dude, who cares?" Chie tried to tell her reasonably. "Remember when we found out about Naoto? We're all cool! So what if she's a chick instead of a dude, or Ai's a dude instead of a chick?"

"U-um, I prefer you leave me out of this discussion," Naoto said in a quiet undertone. "If that's alright."

Throwing up her hands in surrender, Rise began to pace back and forth as she said, "This is unbelievable. I really didn't think confiding in one friend… well, I guess I should ask who you told, Yukiko."

Rise was too observant to miss the glance between her and none other than Yosuke. The boy gulped when she turned her glare on him, holding up both hands in front of his chest.

"N-now, let's be reasonable here. Just a second while I explain-"

"UGH! Did everybody here play a part in this?!" No answers. Rise groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Okay, well… I guess I'm going to be eating a whole big plate of crow later. If she even talks to me."

"Don't be so dramatic," Chie sighed as she rolled her eyes, hands on her hips now. "You're friends, you'll bounce back before you know it!"

But the idol was already shaking her head before she even finished. "You didn't see how mad she was. I'm… I'll see you later."

"But you just got here," Yukiko protested in a pleading voice, taking a step toward her. "I'm sorry we didn't understand the situation, but do you really have to go?"

"Yes. Got a lot of thinking to do."

As Rise headed toward the elevator, she passed Kanji coming from it. He smiled and waved and asked, "What's up?"

"Ask our Judas friends."

"Huh?!" He got no answer to his question. As the doors slid shut, she thought she could just barely hear him say, "Man, chicks sure are crazy," but it was too late for her to attack him since she was already heading downstairs. Oh well; there was always next time for him to pay for his crime against her gender.

                                                  ~ o ~

That was on her mind a lot as she lay in bed that night, staring up at her ceiling. Gender. Sexuality. The differences between men and women. How those lines could be blurred right in front of her eyes and she had no idea. And when she wasn't thinking about that, she was thinking about…

Why didn't she realize she shouldn't have told Chie? Theoretically, she should have been able to confide in her and everything be fine — and she also knew none of her friends really intended to hurt anyone. They were just careless. But now she could see with sobering clarity that carelessness still had consequences. Would Ai really have to transfer again, just because the secret got out?

Something that made her blood run cold whenever she thought of it: that comment about guys beating her up. Just because she used the women's bathroom? When she thought of it as a man sneaking in there, she supposed that made sense. Most guys would do that to protect any women from being harmed. But she had gone to the bathroom alongside Ai plenty of times — enough to know that she never did anything in there except her business, and preen in front of the mirror. At least she had found a way to prove to those nosy girls that she was all woman.

Even if it was a lie, technically speaking. Which confused Rise so much she just wound up stuffing her head underneath her pillow.

All her texts went unanswered, of course. She had expected that. Somehow, she still couldn't help herself and sent a grand total of seven before she manually turned off her phone to reduce the temptation.

The worst part of all? Now she couldn't talk to any of her friends about it, either. That was what got her into this fix in the first place! So all she could do was panic, wallow, and panic again.

                                                  ~ o ~

If Rise had thought the previous day was unpleasant, Tuesday definitely counted as a catastrophe.

"Oh my God," she overheard a girl muttering as she walked in through the front gates. "Can you believe she would ever look like that?"

Unfortunately, she only had a few minutes of blissful peace to have no idea what they were talking about. The minute she reached into her locker to get her indoor shoes, she felt the glossy paper on top of them. Withdrawing it, she felt her heart sink when she saw her own face.

A goofy face indeed. There was nothing particularly wrong with the picture; she had been trying on dresses in Croco Fur and was sticking her tongue out with her finger up her nose, obviously making the stupid face for the camera. Nothing incriminating, just vaguely embarrassing. However…

Everyone seemed to have a copy. No matter which way she looked, every single student of Yasogami seemed to have a glossy paper in their hands. Rise felt her face begin to heat up. She had done nothing wrong, and the picture wasn't that bad, but seeing the entire student body laughing at her brought on the reaction regardless.

"Wow, this is hilarious," some guy was saying as she headed to class. "Thought Risette was so cool but she's actually dumb. Look at this! Her finger's in her nose, gross!"

"I think it's cute," his friend said. "She's having fun."

But another guy in glasses standing nearby just sighed and rolled his eyes. "You plebs. Obviously this is just another publicity stunt orchestrated by her management. She probably distributed them herself."

The idol stormed into the room before she had to hear any more. Did they really think she had nothing better to do than print off a bunch of pictures of herself and throw them all over the place?!

"Uh, hey."

She looked up, ready to ream the speaker, when she saw a chagrined looking Kanji standing there, scratching the back of his head. "May I help you? Or am I too crazy?"

His weak chuckle spoke volumes. "Heard that, huh? Sorry… I just didn't know what to say when you snapped at me. Guys filled me in after you left."

"What? You mean the way you all stabbed me in the back by gossiping about my girlf- my new friend?" Damn. She would have to be more careful about that.

"Hey, I didn't do that shit," the tall, dangerous looking boy grunted with his arms folded over his barrel chest. Sometimes Rise forgot just how intimidating Kanji was to most people, because they knew him better than that now. He was a big teddy bear under that yakuza-esque exterior. "Yosuke was the real problem, I guess. He was talking about it to Naoto, and wasn't paying attention to who was around them. Bunch of people overheard. And Naoto didn't say shit to anybody, so don't blame her!"

Rise sighed. Unsurprising that he was so defensive of her, since his crush ran so deep. "Fine. So it's Chie and Yukiko's fault a little bit, and as usual, Yosuke's fault a lot. At least they're the same old idiots they've always been."

Kanji nodded with another grunt. "So… what's with the photo?"

"Ughhhhhhhh."

                                                  ~ o ~

The way Ai was standing at the edge of the school roof, gazing over Inaba, almost made it look like she was lying in wait for Rise when she got there. Probably because she was — and had been since the start of lunch. The popstar shoved the glossy page in front of her face.

"Well? What exactly is this supposed to mean?"

"Mean? Why, I don't know. Isn't that your picture? Aren't you supposed to be the one who knows?"

"You took this. I literally remember you taking it, with your phone, not mine. So why would you go to all this trouble to print up a dumb picture?"

Ai's smirk was practically demonic as she looked sideways at her without fully turning. The worst part was that she still was as beautiful as ever, even when being an asshole. "A beginning. By the time I'm through with you, you will be begging me to stop, and I won't. I won't stop until you feel the way I did yesterday."

"Right. So this is a really pathetic beginning to a revenge plot?"

"Hah! Good try. Have you forgotten how much abuse I've weathered over my entire lifetime? You're going to have to do better than that to undercut me."

"Ai, you don't have to do this," she pleaded in a quieter voice. "This is nowhere near what I wanted, I still don't want it. I made a mistake, and I'm sorry, but attacking me like this isn't going to-"

She fell silent when Ebihara actually yawned. Her anger flared, and her eyes narrowed to slits as her fists curled tight. "That's your pitch? 'Whoops, I outed you and almost ruined your life, hugs'? Lame."

"Fine," Rise hissed. "I guess this didn't mean anything to you at all. Throw it all away because you're butthurt. Whatever."

"That's why I'm doing it, you idiot." Now her aloof tone had dropped to absolute zero. "Because it did — it meant everything in a way you will never understand. And now I feel stupid for trusting you, because you broke it. Don't go acting all high and mighty and trying to play the sympathy card."

Rise's eyes were watering as she tried to come up with something to say. The bratty side of her personality wanted to swear her own revenge, that she would make things even worse for Ai… but she knew she wouldn't be able to live with that. Besides, it was the wrong move, regardless of what her friend…

Regardless of what her ex-friend had done. It was really over. And figuring that out took all the wind out of her sails.

"Okay. Bye."

"That's it?" Ai chuckled harshly as the idol turned away, walking toward the stairwell. "Wow, you're usually so much chattier. You had better thicken up that skin, Kujikawa, or the next few days are going to be pretty unbearable!"

They really would. Just not for the reason Ai thought. Mourning the end of something beautiful tended to put a damper on one's week.

                                                  To Be Continued…

[inanotheruniversemusings]

i can see you there with the city lights; fourteenth floor, pale blue eyes

fill for Supercorptober2020 prompt: warm

read on ao3

“I have no idea how you’ve managed to convince me to do this.”

It’s the truth. Lena genuinely doesn’t know.

It’s a winter night, the coldest one yet in National City according to dozens of weather reports, and the temperature that flashes on the widget in her phone’s home screen.

There is absolutely no reason for Lena to do this, yet, she says yes anyway.

Maybe it’s the way Kara’s lips purse into a pout when Lena asks why, or the enthusiasm that she counters Lena’s puzzled frown with, well why not.

Or maybe it’s the playful glint in Kara’s eyes, her grin spright and her entire face radiant as she stands under the dim lights of Lena’s kitchen, pulling two modest-sized mugs from the drawer under Lena’s island counter.

And then she’s dipping the scoop in the tub, the muscles in her arm flexing along with the movement, and Lena absolutely isn’t mesmerized at all.

“Because you love me,” Kara says, shaking the scooper above one of the mugs and  begrudgingly forcing Lena to avert her gaze.

Well, that in itself is some kind of truth too, but it’s one that Lena isn’t willing to admit yet. At least not out loud, even in the safety of her very own apartment.

So Lena just hums in response, long and teasing, like she’s debating whether or not she does.

She does. Of course, she does. But Kara can’t know that, so she says, “Perhaps. But I’m not sure if it’s enough to make me eat ice cream when it’s five degrees below zero outside.”

“Really?” Kara asks, wide eyes looking confused. But the slight tilt of her head gives her away. “I don’t feel it.”

Lena rolls her eyes, grabs her Supergirl mug that she bought in irony but Kara loved, and saunters towards her couch, lest she does something incredibly stupid. Like kissing her best friend right in the middle of her kitchen, just because her smile is soft, and tender, and warm, and she’s looking at Lena in a way that makes Lena feel like she’s really more than just her name.

…

(Sam had told her once that Kara has always looked at her like that. But there’s a part of her that just can’t seem to see, that part of her who’s been trying hard not to find her happiness in the same places she lost it.

But she found Kara in the same place she’s lost her too, like she never really left; like she waited for Lena to make her way back, no matter how long it took.

Lena can’t help but hope it means something.)

…

“God, my lips are freezing.”

Kara stills from scraping the very last dregs of mint chocolate chip inside her mug, her last bite somewhat forgotten as she watches Lena swipe her tongue over her bottom lip.

“Why’d I let you convince me, again?”

“Because you love me,” Kara repeats. But it’s softer, breathless. Like she means it in a completely platonic way, and yet, means something else—more.

Lena sets her mug on the coffee table and shifts on her seat, faces Kara just so she can tuck her toes beneath Kara’s jeans. “That won’t work all the time, you know,” she tries to say. Though there’s a flush on her cheeks that Kara knows has nothing to do with the frosty concoction—but Kara doesn’t quite know what to do about that piece of knowledge—Lena’s eyes fixed on the miniscule bits of lint she picks off of her pants.

She hears the slightest clearing of throat, and the clink of Kara’s mug as she sets it right next to Lena’s. “But it did tonight,” Kara then teases. “I’ll work on another tomorrow. When we get burgers.”

“Oh, we are?” Lena asks. Her brow arches in a playful challenge, a movement that Kara’s eyes follow of their own accord until she catches herself and finds Lena smirking at her. “I’d have to check my calendar, I’m afraid.”

Kara groans out a stop, but she laughs when Lena does. She pulls Lena’s feet from underneath her thighs, placing them over her lap instead; takes that freedom then to scoot closer towards her best friend, her hands sliding up to find the tight knots Lena often gets in her calves after spending a long day in her Louboutins.

(And if a breathless moan slips out of Lena’s mouth, Lena doesn’t think she can be blamed, not when Kara’s hands are magic itself.)

“Anyway,” Kara presses on, pressing a thumb down on a particularly stubborn spot. “It’s burgers or Noonan’s. I’d be fine with anywhere as long as we don’t break our lunch streak.”

Lena’s breath hitches, an inopportune moment that Kara’s ears pick up on. Her fingers turn still, curled around Lena’s leg, and a look of worry quickly settles on her face. “Lena? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” rasps Lena; waves a hand to hide the way she surreptitiously clears her throat. “You were saying?”

Kara’s eyes squint, not quite believing it. “Is it your lips? Are they still cold?”

Her best friend nods, hesitant and slow. “A little, yes.”

“Want me to warm them up for you?”

“I’m sorry,” Lena says, fumbling for her next words. But seven Earth languages and Kryptonese only has her stammering out, “What?”

Kara then inches closer and leans forward—closer that Lena’s almost afraid she’ll hear how Lena’s heart is hammering beneath her chest, like it wants to escape its cage and leap straight into Kara’s hands, screaming it’s yours, it’s yours, right from the start.

(Kara probably already has, but Lena refuses to think about that now.)

Lena’s entire body stiffens as Kara lifts her hand, her chest heaving as if it’s the only way she knows how to stop her heart from falling out of its place.

Yet, in the end, it somehow does, when Kara’s hand sails past her head and into the thick blanket that’s draped over the couch arm, tugging at it until it slides down so she can wrap it around Lena’s shoulders.

Kara then opens her mouth to speak. Lena’s pretty sure she says there, all warm, but her head is suddenly filled with static, and there’s a buzzing in her ears that she can’t seem to shake. 

(Later she’d try to find the perfect word to describe it, a cross between embarrassment and disappointment. She’d coin it, if she has to.)

Kara’s mouth is still moving, yet Lena’s still unable to hear a thing. Until Kara ducks her head to meet her eyes, and a warm touch presses on one of her knees, trying to shake it.

“Lena?”

Lena, in turn, blinks at her. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then, it’s like her mind kicks itself back up and her tongue suddenly remembers how to articulate. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

Kara frowns in concern. She rubs Lena’s legs to offer comfort, and then asks, “I said I’m going to go make you hot coco. To keep you warm.”

“Oh.”

Lena’s face twists into something Kara can’t quite discern, a split second that makes Kara feel like she’s missing something significant.

“Did you not want me to make you hot coco?”

“I,” Lena starts to say; sighs and then looks away, directing her gaze towards the view in her tall glass windows. “I guess I had something else in mind.”

Kara’s mouth moves again as if to ask her what exactly does she mean, her head shaking in confusion as she tries to come up with something else.

Lena’s it’s fine, don’t think about it doesn’t even register in her brain, her thoughts running a mile a minute, into memories and through snapshots of all their time together that she’s kept inside a proverbial box she named love. Until— 

Oh.

Lena watches a myriad of motions play out on Kara’s face, with a flushed red abruptly blooming on her cheeks almost making Lena worry if Kara’s even breathing.

But Kara settles on one, and it’s the kind of resolute look she’s only ever seen on Kara when she’s resolved to see through a decision she’s made till the very end.

“I want to take you out first. Before—before anything else.”

“Out?” Lena repeats.

“To dinner.”

“To dinner?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”

“No,” Lena retorts, finally, finally able to compose herself given what has transpired the last five minutes. But where once there’s only the brink of a heartbreak, there is now the hope that Lena has purposely held herself from giving into, and bright promises of tomorrow Lena can’t wait to embark on.

“But you might. Because I don’t kiss on the first date.”

Kara gasps. “No?! Why?!”

Lena smirks. “Well, why not?”

[allthebooksandcrannies]

Bora Bora: Chapter 1

This is the second installment of my fanfic of a fanfic Bora Bora. This will probably be confusing if you haven’t read murkybluematter’s story The Pureblood Pretense or its follow up stories on Fanfic.net

Prologue

Read on AO3

Chapter 1: A Difference of Opinion

It really all started on Halloween, because of course it did. It involved Rigel Black, after all.

“Did you hear anything about the attack on Diagon last weekend?”  

Draco looked up from where he was finalizing his Transfiguration essay to make sure whoever had asked such a stupid question understood just how sick and tired he was of talking about the Diagon attack. It was all anyone had been talking about since it happened. Unfortunately, it was Millicent who had asked, and, after seven years of schooling together, she was quite immune to the Malfoy glare by now.

“What I meant,” she corrected with an exasperated eye-roll, “was whether anyone had heard anything new about it. From your parents, I mean.”

Blaise didn’t raise his head from the sheaf of parchment he had been sifting through and taking notes from, but he did that little head tilt he used when he wanted to show he was listening without actually expressing an interest in the subject. Rigel, however, was the one to actually answer.

“Dad says Uncle James thinks they were after someone specific, but he won’t say who the target was, just that I should take care. And when he won’t tell Sirius something, you know it’s bad.”

Millicent gave a knowing nod, as if this were the confirmation she had been waiting for. Lowering her voice as much as she could without it being suspicious, she replied that “My father thinks the rebels were using the attack on the shops as cover for an assassination attempt against Dumbledore.”

Draco scoffed. “Please, they’d have to be mad to go after Dumbledore in the open like that.” And they would. Dumbledore may have been old (and potentially senile, depending on who you asked), but everyone knew he was one of the most powerful wizards alive. “If someone like Dumbledore has time to even draw his wand before you kill him, you’ve already lost!” It was the same reason the 1981 Halloween Accords had been passed in secret. The man was too brilliant to be allowed time to plan, time to fight back.

“And you think the same people who attacked two Ministers of Magic at the World Cup are especially sane?” Draco had to give Millicent that one. Sane was not exactly the first adjective that came to mind.

Blaise hmmd, openly paying attention now. “Not to mention that no one publicly contradicts their message more effectively than Dumbledore. There’s a reason he’s still the Supreme Mugwhump despite Riddle’s best efforts.

“People listen to Dumbledore. As long as he’s alive, he’s a threat. So, if they thought there was even the possibility of taking him out of the equation, while causing some panic in the process…” Blaise let his voice trail off, his meaning clear. Draco knew his own face was as grim as the rest of the group.

“Does anyone want to explain to me what in Merlin’s name would be so bad about that?” Well, almost the whole group.  

Theo was, well Theo was Theo.  He had always been rather vocal about his beliefs, but lately he had become less and less willing to hide it when his views on a subject were less than polite. It made it easy to know where you stood with him at any point in time, but it was honestly an embarrassing lack of subtlety.  Though, Draco thought ruefully, having one less politician in his generation could really only be an advantage to his own pursuits.

There were several eye-rolls around the circle at Theo’s naivete and a rising tension that was literally palpable to Draco’s empathy, but Draco nearly groaned to see Rigel slowly straighten up with a simultaneously shut down on every emotion he had been allowing himself to project.  

But, instead of coming back with the scathing retort Draco expected, Rigel raised a single eyebrow, face expressionless and snobbish enough to fit right in among the ancient Black heads of house. “You do realize, Theo, that, at the very least, it might by dangerous to us if people are really trying to kill our headmaster?” Then, clearly leaning in to the snotty pureblood impression with a comically raised voice and nose, he continued, “I for one, would rather not get my robes singed if I’m standing next to the headmaster when some hooligan starts throwing curses around!”

Draco recognized the game his friend was playing and hurriedly shot in with a drawled, “You might mind the destruction of those monstrosities” he said, with a significant glance at the potions robes, “but the rest of us would have to thank the brigands for sparing our eyes the horror.”

And just like that the tension dissolved just as suddenly as it had risen as the group devolved into a round of childlike giggling that they really should have been too old for. Things were good, Draco reminded himself as he fervently ignored the niggling voice in the back of his head that noticed that Rigel still hadn’t relaxed his shields back to their default. Because things were good, and it was normal for Rigel to be weird about sharing.

Draco was saved from anymore introspection as the laughing tapered off by Theo announcing that he was absolutely done trying to study for the night and was going to go start to get ready for the Halloween feast in a few hours.  

Blaise said something about how it was probably best that he did stop studying, so that he didn’t end up hurting himself.

Millicent made a quip about Theo needing all the time to get ready as he could get, just as their coarser friend was about to make it out of earshot. And as soon as he was gone…

“Whatever are we going to do about that boy?” Pansy asked, and Draco jumped.

It wasn’t that he had forgotten that Pansy was there of course. After all, it would be completely remiss of a pureblooded gentleman to forget the presence of a lady, particularly when she also happened to be one of his best friends. Draco had just… not been expecting her to speak.

And you could hardly blame him. The past fortnight she had been quieter than she had ever been in her life. No matter how many times Rigel or Draco or even Millicent tried to press her on what was wrong, what had their sharp friend passively gliding along like a ghost, she continued to demur and insist that she was fine, just a had a bit of disappointing news. And that might have been that if the behavior had passed after a few days. Instead, it had continued with Pansy alternating between projecting an eerie sort of blankness, like he was seeing her emotions from behind a pane of glass, to crashing waves of bitterness and grief  that were so intense they put his teeth on edge. It hurt him to feel, but he wasn’t sure what to do about it and he had finally resolved to give her some space. But now she was speaking, and he had been too caught up in his own internal monologue to pay attention. He hurried to tune back in without making it obvious that he had missed anything at all.

If the muted pang of amusement he felt Rigel send his way was any indication, he may not have entirely succeeded.

“-not happy with Nott Sr at all. You saw what Nott said to that Prophet reporter, right?” Millicent pressed.

“The one coming out against last season’s round of marriage announcements?” Pansy clarified.

Millicent went to nod, and opened her mouth to elaborate, but Rigel beat her too it.

“Theo’s dad is against the marriage law?”

And Draco’s stomach dropped, because he didn’t need an empathy gift to detect the hopeful tone Rigel had asked that in, and he definitely did not want to start this conversation again.  

Millicent, apparently, agreed because she was hesitant to reply. “Yes,” she said carefully, “but not quite the way your hoping… Lord Nott’s point of view on the matter has always been rather similar to his son’s…”

“What, that marrying a halfblood would be disgusting?” And Rigel clearly knew the answer to his own question if the new tightness around his eyes was any indication.

Blaise, however, was electing to appear oblivious to the significant change the subject messages Millicent and Draco were giving off, and he actually responded to the obviously loaded question.  

“From what Mother says, its not so much the marriage law itself that Lord Nott has decided he’s opposed to, but rather Riddle’s self-assigned role in determining what those pairings will be. Supposedly, he’s already made up his mind about the entire seventh year already, and Lord Nott is not pleased with whom he has chosen for Theo, though I doubt anyone has mentioned this to Theo, of course.”

Everyone in their little corner of the common room was paying attention now.  It was one thing to know that Riddle would probably have a say in whom you married, but to know that he was dictating that decision personally was a completely different animal. Pansy, in particular, seemed especially stiff as she leaned in as if to wordlessly prompt Blaise to continue.

Rigel’s eyes, meanwhile, squinted in suspicion, as if he already had an idea of where this was going and didn’t like it but couldn’t bring himself to look away. “And who, exactly, is it that Lord Nott is so opposed to marrying his heir?”

Blaise’s expression was one of total innocence, though Draco could have sworn he could still see his usual knowing smirk in the other boy’s eyes.

“Well Theo seems to think he’s marrying Miss Greengrass. Though Mother says that Riddle’s choice was someone who instead was far too independent, and more offensively, far too Light for Nott’s tastes. I, of course, have no idea who that might be, though one could imagine that it must be someone Riddle is quite adamant on controlling if he’s insisting strongly enough that Nott felt that The Prophet was his only recourse.”

Now, if there was one thing Draco would usually cite as among Rigel’s best qualities it was that he was no fool, regardless of how he might like to play the role when it suited him. Rigel understood Blaise’s implications, as could be clearly seen by the grim set off his mouth and the creeping, sick feeling Draco could feel seeping through his friend’s shields.

Later, he could talk to his friend, help him understand that this wasn’t the disaster he clearly thought it was. But that time was not now. Because Rigel was not exactly known for being rational where Riddle or his cousin came in. Now, that they were both potentially involved, there was no telling what stupid stunt he might pull in the heat of the moment.

Draco reached out, both with his empathy and his arm, trying to pull Rigel out of where he was retreating behind walls, instead of asking for help. “Rye… whatever you’re thinking I promise its not as big of an issue as you’re worried it is. Let’s just ta-”

“Not as big of a deal, Dray?” Rigel asked, slipping back into that dangerously unaffected tone he was so fond of. That was the moment Draco realized he had chosen his words poorly. “Not as big of a deal? Since when is family not a big deal to a Slytherin, Dray?”

Draco spluttered “That’s not what- I mean, she’s not- I mean-” But Rigel was already shoving books into his bag and rising to go.

“I know exactly what you meant, Draco.” He paused, took a deep breath in. “You guys can head on to the feast without me. I’m going to go brew until I no longer want to set Riddle on fire.” And then he was swooping out of the room in a flurry of black fabric that made it very clear just who his mentor was.  

There group was quiet for a while, just staring at the closed common room door, until Draco suddenly remembered what day it was with a mumbled curse.

“I can’t believe I just let him go off on his own, today of all days! I better-” And then, because today was apparently “Interrupt Draco Day,” Pansy stopped him.

“I think you better let me handle this one. I’ll keep him out of trouble.” Draco believed her. If anyone was going to be able to get Rigel to see reason, it would be Pansy, he was sure.

 Later, looking back on that night, Draco would wryly remind himself that there had always been a limit to even Pansy’s sensibleness if she had been willing to put up with the two of them for so long.

[contrabbandiera-di-elia]

Doodles

I’m full of Elippo energy recently, so I did this thing on my phone. It may be full of mistakes because I’ll probably bother my beta only if I decide to post it on AO3, but I guess it’s still readable.

Based loosely on this thing which made me believe Elia can draw really well, at least in the cartoonish style, and some ‘different style challenges’ I’ve seen recently.

Happy Birthday, @azozzoni! I hope you’ll like it! 🎁

—

“What’s that?” Asked Filippo, picking up a piece of the paper lying on the floor among Eleonora’s papers. She was doing general cleaning, as she used to do always a few weeks after the end of the school year. She was organizing the notes and other kinds of papers, deciding which ones she wanted to keep because they may be useful in the future, and which were to be thrown away because they’re useless. This year Edoardo was helping her, as he was so called cleaning specialist, or at least he claimed to be.

At first glance, Filippo thought what he had picked up was just a piece of paper full of unimportant doodles. But then he took a closer look and realized these were quite interesting drawings. All of them presented one person but in different styles of drawing. All of them were cartoonish. Some of them he recognized, like Winx Club or Adventure Time, but most of them he didn’t. They were mostly black and white, but he knew precisely who they presented. That hairstyle, that striped shirt, and most importantly – red lips, the only thing in every drawing that was not black and white. It was obviously Eleonora.

“Oh, I completely forgot about it,” he heard over his shoulder, as the person in question studied the sketches. “It’s Elia’s. One time he was waiting for Martino at the radio’s room. He got a bit bored and asked if he can draw me. It was not quite what I expected to see, but I liked it, and he let me keep it.”

“It’s good, actually. But I’d never tell Elia could be an artist.”

“Right? I was surprised myself. But when I asked him, he said it’s just a hobby.”

“Who’s Elia?” Asked Edoardo. He didn’t even look at them from where he was putting the notes Eleonora decided to keep into a binder, but Filippo could hear this minimal jealousy in his voice. Well, it was quite understandable. He probably wasn’t too pleased to hear that some random guy spend some considerable amount of time drawing his girlfriend even if these were just cartoonish sketches.

“Martino’s friend. Oh, please, don’t tell me you don’t recognize him! You saw him multiple times!”

Edoardo frowned, but then suddenly he seemed to match the name with the right face. His girlfriend's irritation probably speeded up this process.

“Ah, this Elia! Okay, that changes everything.” Eleonora rolled her eyes at that but didn’t say anything.

Filippo was still looking at the drawings. He wasn’t sure why, but he liked them a lot. They were done with a black and red fineliners (Filippo’s guess, and he knew a thing or two about artistic tools) and in a very clear way. There was no single line made with a pencil, everything was put straight on the paper using only the fineliners. Nevertheless, there were almost no mistakes. Well, maybe there were some slight shortcomings here and there, but Filippo had to pay close attention to even notice them. And the longer he was looking, the more fascinated he was. As he counted, there were seven different drawings, and he inspected all of them acutely. He was never a fan of drawings, neither cartoons, but he found these few little figures interesting and funny. He started to be a bit jealous of his own sister having something like that made about her. Elia had surely put some work and consideration into that, even though it was just a thing he did out of boredom.

“Filippo?” Eleonora’s voice brought him back to the reality out of his thoughtfulness. “If you like it so much you can have it.”

“I don’t need a piece of paper full of your face. I have too much of it every day, darling,” he sighed, putting the drawings aside. “I just think it’s nice. I like how it's done, the style and everything, but also I think it's quite interesting someone took their time to do something like that for the person he barely knows. You know, gazing at you for long minutes and everything. Are you sure Elia doesn't have a thing for you?”

“Elia? No way. He was just bored, and we were the only two people in the room, so it’s not like he had a lot of models to choose from,” she said, not even slightly bothered. Edoardo, on the other hand, seemed to be bothered for the both of them.

“I hope so!” He announced from the other side of the room. Eleonora ignored him, focusing on her brother.

“Hey... Is it me, or you look a bit down? Is it about Dario? Maybe you should talk to him after all or...”

“No,” Filippo answered quickly, shaking his head. “Dario is a closed chapter. It doesn’t make sense anyway. He needs someone calmer and more mature, he said it himself. And I need someone who’d be able to keep up with me. Someone more spontaneous, more confident, more... you know.”

“I know,” she claimed. She did. She knew her brother long enough to know what kind of person he needed in his life. And she hoped he’d find this person someday.

-

Filippo was never into birthdays. Or rather, he was never into his birthdays. It was simply not a big deal. His parents never remembered, and he never fully got over it, so there was this dose of disappointment every year. He was trying to get rid of it by getting his friends, hitting some club and finding someone to spend the night with, but it was never his dreamed birthday. There was no special birthday parties, no singing ‘Happy Birthday’ over the birthday cake with a group of friends, no more than one present, so it was pretty sad.

The only thing that made everything better was the existence of Eleonora. She always remembered, she was singing ‘Happy Birthday’ over the birthday cake or at least suitable replacement of a one, she was coming up with a present. So every and each year Filippo was grateful for having her because he knew without her none of his birthdays would make any sense.

But that year Eleonora outdid herself. Completely.

Filippo came home from a university with a plan of getting together with his friends and going out, and the last thing he expected to see in the living room was Eleonora with Martino and their respective significant others singing ‘Happy Birthday’ in the most unsynchronized way he had ever heard.

“Look what we have for you! And no, you definitely didn't expect it,” said Martino, as he and Eleonora came up to him with something that was supposed to be Filippo’s present.

It was wrapped in a paper, but judging by the shape, it could be a painting. Or a large photo. Or maybe some framed poster. He looked at Eleonora and Martino suspiciously, but they only hurried him to unpack it, both seemingly impatient. That made Filippo unsure because Eleonora and Martino being excited over the same thing couldn't end up well.

Fortunately, he was wrong.

After he ripped off the paper, he saw a bunch of drawings drew on a framed bristol board. He quickly realized it was exactly what he saw among Eleonora’s papers some time ago – a bunch of drawings presenting one person in different cartoon styles. Except that there was no seven of them, but probably about twenty. And they were sighed, so he knew which drawing was made in which cartoon's style. Moreover, no black and white with small additions of red, but colorful, and made with much more care and precision. And they didn’t present Eleonora. They presented Filippo.

He carefully studied his own face in multiple cartoonish versions. Winx Club Filippo, Adventure Time Filippo, Simpsons Filippo, Flinstones Filippo, Sailor Moon Filippo... And in the middle of the frame, slightly bigger than every other drawing, was Filippo drew in unsigned style. Probably author’s own style. Elia’s style.

“And? What do you think?” Asked Martino, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. Filippo looked at him quickly before turning his eyes back to the drawings.

“It’s... wow, it’s great, seriously. I love it,” he said finally, his eyes tracing every drawing as if he couldn’t believe it was all him. It was a bit weird to look at his own face like that, but interesting nevertheless. “Did you get Elia to do that?”

“Well... yes. But we were helping."

“We just provided him with materials and occasionally some ideas,” commented Eleonora making Martino roll his eyes.

"Well, that's still some kind of help," he decided with a little shrug.

"I think we actually did him a favor, " Niccolò cut in, a mischievous look in his eyes. "He seemed to be quite eager to draw you. I'd say he enjoyed it definitely more than..."

"Oh, come on, Nico," Martino didn't let him finish, hitting his arm playfully. "The most important thing is that Filo enjoys it. Now let's get to the cake." That made Edoardo happy.

"Thank you! I went through a lot of effort to get a cake that has a rainbow both inside and outside. I want to see if it was worth it."

They all spent the whole afternoon eating and talking, but for some reason, Filippo couldn't get the author of his birthday present out of his head. He wanted to believe the reason for that was the gratefulness, but the truth was that Niccolò's words still lingered on the back of his head. He tried to ignore them, but they were coming back to him all the time. Finally, he decided it's pointless just to sit and think about it and decided to do something about it. He was feeling a bit stupid asking Martino for Elia's number to 'thank him for the effort and all,' but in the end, he got it, so he decided to at least try and see how the conversation will go.

After a third signal, Elia picked up with a simple “hello?” Filippo cleared his throat, suddenly feeling uneasy. He wasn’t even sure why exactly he wanted to call him in the first place. But there was no turning back. It’d be stupid to leave Elia hanging at the other end. Nobody liked dead calls.

“Hi, it's Filippo,” he said, but before he managed to add anything to that, Elia spoke up.

“Hi! How did you like the drawings?” He asked, seemingly excited to hear the answer. Filippo couldn’t help a smile forming at his lips.

“I love it, seriously. It’s amazing. Thank you so much for making it.”

“You’re welcome, I’m glad you like it. I’m not sure why Eleonora and Martino wanted so badly to have it as your birthday present, but I guess as long as you enjoy it it’s fine.”

“I’m thinking about hanging it on my wall, to be honest,” confessed Filippo, because he was, in fact, thinking about it. It'd be wasting art not to have it hanging on a wall.

“Woah, so much?”

“So much,” he nodded, even through Elia couldn’t see it. Then he decided to take the risk and try going a step further. It was his birthday, maybe he could get some birthday luck or something. “Listen... I thought maybe I could get you a coffee as a thank-you?”

“No way,” Elia said quickly, and Filippo wanted to punch himself for even asking that. Of course. But before he got to back off and say he was only joking or something, Elia continued. “That’s a present. You don’t need to get me anything in exchange. They asked me to do that, I had nothing better to do, I actually enjoyed doing it a lot, so I don’t need any sort of payment from you.”

“But still,” insisted Filippo, suddenly feeling brave again after those words, “I’d like to thank you in person. Don’t think about it as payment. Think about it as a... nice meeting with a receiver of your art.”

Elia’s laughter reverberated in his right ear and made him a little gooey inside. He closed his eyes to compose himself. That was interesting.

“Okay than. Let’s do that.”

-

When a week later Filippo was laying in his bed, Elia’s lips moving along his neck, Elia’s hand working on a zipper of his pants, Elia’s drawing hanging on his wall right above the desk, he vowed to himself he’ll never ever refuse Eleonora when she asks him to help her sorting her notes.