#in my defense i was taking an unplanned break

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐒𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐡 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 4.2k

chapter summary: Summer break is finally here, meaning it's time to pick the annual vacation spot for the Miller's, only this time you also have a say in where to go. Later that night Joel makes you a promise.

warnings: none, just some fluff and family dynamics, mention of parent abandonment (sarah's mom leaving), mention of an unplanned pregnancy (again, sarah's mom)

a/n: yes there is a modern family reference in this. a heavy one at that because that show has been engraved in my brain from rewatching it over and over this year

special thanks to @undercoverpena for cheering me on and to all the lovely readers who continue on joining in for the ride. ily all xx

Chapter Twelve || Chapter Fourteen

“I don’t understand. Sarah never in her life hurt anythin’. She hates it when I watch action movies and always calls me a caveman for it. How the hell is she gettin’ into a fight with some girl?”

He’s spiraling. That’s the easiest way to put it. His body is humming with worry, the light in the school hall burning his eyes. Sarah, his perfect little girl getting into trouble— 

Surely it was self-defense. 

He paces back and forth, then angrily looks at the door. Why is this taking so long? Why isn’t he already in there, learning what the hell happened? 

“Take a breath, Joel.” 

His head snaps towards the source of the voice, his heart easing a bit but not entirely calmed down yet. You offer him a kind smile, patting the seat next to you for him to join you. Joel shakes his head almost violently. “I can’t,” he sighs. “I need to know what the hell happened. I need to know if she’s alright.” 

“She’s in class, she’s alright,” you swiftly get up from your sweet and cradle his cheeks. He wants to look away. He’s still not used to being this vulnerable, this open. “I need you to calm down before we go in, okay? Don’t go on wreaking havoc without us learning what happened.”

Joel grimaces, his brows furrowing, he holds your wrists and tugs your hands down. He sees a moment of hurt reflected in your eyes but is quick to appease those worries by pressing his lips against your cheek. He’s glad you’re here. Truly. But he’s also worried about Sarah. She might be in class, however, that doesn’t mean that she was hurt in some other way. He lets out another breath and looks at the door. If looks could kill the wooden furniture would be dead by now.

He’s in the middle of leaning in for a proper kiss when the door finally opens. Both of them jolt, turning towards the interruption. Joel recognizes the woman on the other side. She has straight black hair that’s in a neat ponytail and thick glasses perched above her nose. Joel remembers her vaguely from Sarah talking about school... Ms. Pritchett, if he's not mistaken. He doesn't remember her first name. She’s young, maybe closer to your age rather than his. He gives the teacher a pointed look, to which she answers with a kind smile. 

“Mr Miller, welcome,” her gaze shifts to you “And…” 

You quickly offer her your name, flustered, as much as Joel can tell. He's a bit ashamed to admit it but at that point, he doesn't really care to figure out why you're suddenly tripping over your words. Joel turns to the teacher, his shoulders squared and tense. “You called about Sarah gettin' in a fight?” 

“Ah, yes. Please, come in.” 

He feels the brush of your fingers against the small of his back, a soothing touch and a quick one at that. He wishes your touch would linger, that your body would drape over his like a soothing velvety blanket. Sadly, he can't have that. At least, not now. You sit across from him and Ms Pritchett takes her seat behind the large wooden desk. Joel appreciates the craftsmanship of it. The way the wood feels smooth and new under his touch, polished to perfection, reminding him of something Tommy would make in his spare time. His eyes then linger on the nameplate right in front of him, Lily Pritchett. Now he knows the name of Sarah's teacher. 

Miss Pritchett laces her fingers on top of the desk, her sharp eyes fixed on Joel’s. He suddenly feels very exposed. Like this woman can see every mistake he’s made since the day he was born. Her smile isn’t soothing. Nor is the slight tilt of her head to make her seem whatever she’s about to say isn’t a big deal. But it is. He knows it is. He’s a single dad, no mom in the picture to help him out, and day by day those shortcomings are becoming more prominent in their lives. 

“Has Sarah told you about why she’s been having trouble at school?” 

The question is like a knife to the gut. It’s being twisted and pressed in deeper. He can feel your gaze on him but he refuses to look back. His heart skips a beat, then another. Why the fuck is he having trouble breathing?

“Her grades are high,” he manages to choke out between gritted teeth. “I ain’t aware of any trouble she’s been havin’.”

“I’m not talking about grades Mr. Miller. In that aspect, she’s excelling. But she seems to be having trouble fitting in—” 

“She has friends.” 

Miss Pritchett smiles again, albeit it looks more forced this time. As if Joel is working her last nerve, “She does. But those girls are in a grade higher.” she sighs and twirls her thumbs over one another. “I had a similar problem when I was her age. The thing is yesterday the girls were getting ready for gym class and started teasing each other by snapping each other’s bra straps.”  Joel’s mouth goes dry. He’s definitely out of his element. He holds his breath and waits for the teacher to continue, he feels your hand on the slope of his knee. “But Sarah didn’t have one and the other girls started teasing her.” 

“Why the hell are you talkin’ to us then?” Joel glowers and Miss Pritchett's mouth snaps shut. “Seems to me that my girl is the victim. Where are the parents of the others?” 

“Mr. Miller. . .” 

“No. I ain’t lettin’ her take the blame that was clearly some other kid’s fault!” his voice raises, his blood pumping faster, warmer. “You here blamin’ Sarah when she was clearly gettin’ bullied under your watch—” 

“Sarah tackled one of the girls.” 

Now it’s Joel’s turn to snap his mouth shut. Miss Pritchett's gaze turns sympathetic and you stiffen next to him, your fingers tightening around his knee. He shuffles in his seat and raises a brow, “Pardon?” 

“Some words were exchanged about Sarah’s mother abandoning her and Sarah tackled the other student to the ground. Things didn’t escalate—When Miss Crest came in Sarah was just holding her down.” 

“What did they say?” he growls, anger simmering right under the skin. 

He hates feeling like this. So out of control. Hates that her daughter is being targeted for something that was out of his and her’s control. 

“Her mother left us when she was young. A goddamn baby. Are you meanin’ to tell me that these kids are so undisciplined that they’ve been bullyin’ my girl for somethin’ that ain’t her fault?” 

“The girl who said it, Kimberly,” Miss Pritchett sighs softly when Joel fixes her another glare. A warning that she’s seen too many times from overprotective parents. “She apologized later on and the two have been talking a bit in class.” 

“I don’t care if she apologized—”

“Joel. . .” He finally turns to look at you. You say his name not as a warning, but more as an anchor grounding him to the moment. He’s breathing heavily. His body wrung out and ready to collapse. He takes a deep breath. In and out. He allows you to say what you want to say, what he’s too stuck in his own head to ask. Your gaze shifts from him to Miss Pritchett. “What should we do?” 

“Try to talk to her. If her mother left when she was young, like you said,” she gestures towards Joel. “She might’ve not fully registered what happened. Or what it means to not have a mother and only now she might be realizing it. As for the other situation, it might be good to get her a training bra for now.” 

A training bra, what does that even mean? It’s like he’s drowning, everyone saying things he just can’t understand. 

“The girls reconciled but I just wanted to get a chance to talk to you, Mr. Miller, before summer break starts.” 

God, they still have to pick out the annual vacation spot, “I appreciate it,” he mutters, not really looking at anyone in particular. He gets up from his seat and so do you and Miss Pritchett. She extends a hand and he takes it. 

“Feel free to call if you have any other questions,” she says. “Sarah is a good girl and has a bright future. This is just a little bump in the road.” 

And for the first time since he entered the office, Joel smiles. She does have a bright future. She’s the most amazing girl she knows. 

“Thank you.” 

The sky is crystal clear not a cloud in the sky. Joel hates it. And not just because he’s in a sour mood but because there’s nothing he can stare at in the sky. Nothing to distract him. They’re waiting for the final bell to ring so they can get Sarah and go home together. Tommy is supposed to pick them up. 

“You have to calm down,” you say, walking up to him enough to leave a friendly distance in between. Joel is tired of keeping you a secret. He wants to feel the softness of your body against his own, want to feel your breath on his skin as you speak. “I can go with her and get her a training bra. But you need to be the one to talk to her.” 

He cocks an eyebrow, “You think I don’t know that?” 

“I. . .I know you do. But let’s be honest you’re not exactly the most talkative. We’ve been together for a while and been living side by side for even longer—I still have no clue about Sarah’s mother or what her name is.” 

“Her name is Jessica,” he deadpans. Then with a sigh, he drags his palm down his face. “It’s hard for me. I don’t really have answers, sweetheart. She just up and left one day. She must’ve planned it because it was right after when we switched to formula.” 

“Did Sarah ever ask about her before?” 

“Once. When she was little.” 

“And?” 

His cheeks burn with frustration and he stammers of his words, “I don’t know. I don’t remember, she was really young so I think I made up somethin’ about her having a job far away or somethin’.” 

Joel groans and looks up to the sky. He watches the blank blue sky. How fucking boring. 

Your touch on his cheek brings him back down, your smile a balm to his soul, “Just talk to her. Ask her if she has any questions and be honest. She’s a smart girl. I’m certain she’ll understand that you’ve been hurting too.” 

Joel leans into the curve of your palm. A grateful smile tugs at the corner of his lips. You’re too good for him. That much he knows. You’re everything. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” his heart melts between the bones of his ribcage. “I lo—” 

The sudden sound of the bell makes you both jerk away from one another. Joel’s eyes land on your face, you look horrified and panting with parted lips. He can’t help the burst of laughter that drops from his mouth as he places a hand on the top of your head. 

“So jumpy,” he mutters, and as he does his eyes catch sight of a bubbly girl with beautiful brown curls. “And there’s Sarah.” 

He might be imagining it but Joel swears you frown when he removes his hand from your head. Before Sarah comes over, he gives you a quick pinch on your waist and your smile is back. 

“Hey there baby girl,” he says. “How was school?” 

Sarah’s eyes flit between you and himself, “It was fine. . . Am I in trouble?” 

“Not at all.” Sarah looks skeptical but accepts his father’s words for now. Just as she opens her mouth, a loud familiar honk interrupts. The three of them turn towards the song along with a couple of children and families. 

“Whoops.” Joel can vaguely hear Tommy say as he jumps out of the truck. He makes his way towards them with quick steps, only slowing when his gaze lands on you. Joel hates the way his chest puffs up like a rooster at that. He doesn’t like the sudden kicked-puppy look Tommy is giving you. As if you’ve betrayed him in any way. . . He runs a hurried hand over his jaw. If anything all of this is Joel’s fault and not yours. He refuses to let anyone think otherwise. 

“I thought the teacher called you?” Tommy asks, gesturing with his head to Joel. His gaze swiftly moves back to you. “What are you doin’ here, sweetheart?” 

The endearment rolls off his tongue a bit too rough, which rubs Joel the wrong way. Joel watches you shift from one foot to the other, looking like a deer in headlights. “I asked her to come,” he steps up. “I was worried.” 

Tommy’s eyes soften and Joel’s heart threatens to shatter. He knows his brother cares about him. It hurts especially when he shows his emotions so easily, the complete opposite of Joel, he’s like an open book. 

The younger Miller holds Sarah’s shoulder and pulls her close, “You a’right? Anyone givin’ you trouble?” 

“No, Uncle Tommy. It was more like I was the one causing trouble.” 

All of them start towards the truck and as they do Joel doesn’t miss the way Tommy’s eyes light up at what she said. 

“The perfect student finally getting her hands dirty? Now I’d pay good money to see that—” 

“Tommy.” 

“But I wouldn’t obviously,” Tommy clarifies, ignoring Joel’s warning. He leans into Sarah’s ear. “Did you get them good, baby?” 

Sarah smiles and Joel realizes he would let her get away with murder if he must. 

“I did.” 

“That’s my girl.” 

You and Sarah sit in the back while Joel sits in the passenger seat and Tommy gets behind the wheel. An uncomfortable silence surrounds them. The car starts moving and Joel turns a bit, looking between both you and Sarah. You’re looking out the window, your forehead smushed against the glass and Sarah is pretty much doing the same thing excluding the smushed forehead part. He sighs and turns back. Tommy is also tense which Joel can tell by the way he holds the wheel. He can’t really blame him. If you coming along with Joel wasn’t a tell of some sort he doesn’t know what is. 

“So,” Joel says loudly, cutting the silence in two. “We might as well plan the family trip while we’re drivin’ back home.” 

“Italy.” Sarah piques. 

“Every god damn year—no Sarah we’re not goin’ to Italy. But we will one day. Promise.” 

“Then I’m out of suggestions.” 

“What about you?” Joel asks, addressing you. For a second you look unsure, and he notices your eyes finding Tommy’s through the rear window mirror. “With how often we see each other you might as well come with us on vacation. It’s only for a week.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Your voice comes out tiny, insecure. He hates it. 

“‘Course I am.” 

Tommy jumps in before you can respond, "How about Lake Buchanan? You know, where we used to take Sarah when she was little. There's a resort there now, called Canyon of the Eagles or something."

Joel raises an eyebrow, considering the suggestion. "Not a bad idea, Tommy. What do you think?" he asks, stealing a glance at you through the mirror.

A small, genuine smile forms on your face. "Sounds perfect. I'm in."

"Great," Joel grins. "Lake Buchanan it is."

Sarah, who had been lost in thought, perks up at the mention of the destination. "Lake Buchanan?"

"Yep, that's the place.” a fond smile playis on his lips. “Remember the stargazing?"

"Not really,” Sarah scrunches her face in concentration. “But it might be fun."

"It's gonna be a blast."

Joel shares a glance with you, both of you secretly reveling in the joy that Sarah's excitement brings. 

He has no idea how long he’s been staring, but he knows it’s been for a while now. 

Sarah walked up to her room pretty quickly when they arrived home, Joel wasn’t happy about the way she practically ran away from having a discussion, however he also figured he learned from the best—which was himself.

He takes a deep inhale, feels the way his chest expands, and exhales all of it from his lungs. He can do this. He can talk. 

Joel knocks three times with his heart in his throat. He never felt more relieved in his life when he heard the faint permission to enter the room. 

“Hey there, kiddo,” he says, leaving the door open. “I think we might have some things we need to discuss.” 

“Is this about Kimberly?” Sarah sighs and closes the book she was reading. She sits up on her bed, pulling her skinny knees up to her chest, she stares at her dad. “I’ve already delt with that. We’re fine. And I’ll never do it ever again,” she raises her hand as if she was pledging herself to the American flag. “Promise.” 

“You know that’s not why I’m here. There’s more we need to talk about and you know it.” 

“I know you don’t like talking about her, dad,” she sighs. “I’m sorry I tackled Kimberly. She just got on my nerves. I don’t even know where it came from.” 

Joel decides not to tell her that she did good tackling her classmate and that he’s proud. No one gets to bully his daughter, and he’s glad she knows how to defend herself. But it’s probably a good thing he doesn’t encourage it. 

“I don’t mind talkin’ about it,” he says instead. “What do you wanna know?” 

Sarah blinks, “Why’d she leave?” 

The second time today Joel is indescribably gutted. It was a question he didn’t know the answer quite himself. He hated calling Sarah an accident—but if he had to keep it blunt that was what it was. They were young when they got married, and eager to be with one another. Joel still remembers the night. The creaking of his old truck as rain fell upon them. At the time he would’ve called it romantic. Jessica had just left work, Joel was waiting for her right in the parking lot. He didn’t want her to get soaked under the rain. She was upset at something that happened at work and searched for relief in his mouth. He remembers the way her curls tickled his face, how eager she was to mark his neck—

That was the first time he came inside her. She said she would take a pill the next day. Three weeks later they were pregnant. Joel, despite their crippling finances, was excited. A baby—what else could he have wanted? Sure he had to make some adjustments to his career but that didn’t matter to him. 

Jessica left as soon as Sarah didn’t need to breastfeed anymore. She didn’t even leave a note. Her family was out of state and technology wasn’t as savvy as it was now. He couldn’t track her down. He’s also ashamed to admit he didn’t really try. He was hurt. Heartbroken. He thought they had something special, that having Sarah was both of their dreams. 

But apparently, it was only his. 

All he can feel is pain as he takes a seat next to Sarah on the bed. He wants to console her, tell her some solid truth that would ease her pain. But he can think of none. 

“I don’t know, baby,” he says barely above a whisper. “She didn’t leave a note when she left and I could never track her down.” Sarah’s eyes shine with coming tears. He can’t handle it anymore, he pulls her to his chest, hugs her tight. “I’m sorry baby girl. None of this is your fault. I—I wish I could be better. I know I have shortcomings but I’m gettin’ there promise. And. . . And if you want we can. . .” A knot forms in his throat. He can barely speak. “We can track her down. Ask her for the truth. Because I swear sweetheart I don’t know. Maybe I did something to run her off,” Sarah stiffens under his hold but he continues. A faint sniffling reaches his ears. “I was workin’ day and night at the time. Tryin’ to get the business goin’. It’s possible I wasn’t attentive as much as I wanted to be—I might’ve—” 

“Dad.” Sarah’s voice comes out harsh as she peels herself away from Joel’s embrace. He sees the fire in her eyes but also the pain, her sweet cheeks wet. Her brows are furrowed much like his and he can’t help but think it’s the cutest thing. “Her leaving isn’t your fault,” she then says, taking him by surprise. “I don’t know what you did—or if you did anything— but she lost all credibility when she just got up and left. Both. . . both of you were dealing with something huge. That burden can’t just be yours.” 

Joel blinks rapidly. His eyes sting when he does, he takes a sharp inhale and refuses to wipe his eyes. He’s not crying. He’s not emotional. It’s just the remains of the damn perfume Sarah likes to spray so much of. 

“And sure, we might have some problems, but that happens in every family. I love what we have. You’re the best dad a girl can ask for.” 

“You think so?” Joel chokes out. Sarah quickly nods, her own eyes suddenly wetter than before. With a smile, he shakes his head and pulls her in for another embrace. “For what it’s worth you’re the best daughter a dad could ask for,” he murmurs. “And I ain’t mad at you for tacklin’ that Kimberly girl. She deserved it.” 

Sarah’s laugh comes out muffled, “Dad. . . you’re not supposed to say that.” 

“I don’t care.” 

They hold on to each other with no urgency of breaking apart. He doesn’t care about the others. About the other families and their children. All he cares about is his daughter’s wellbeing. His own family that he built from jack squat. 

The rest of the world can eat shit for all he cares. As long as his little girl is safe, his brother doing alright and you in his life, he doesn’t care about the Kimberlys of the world. 

“So everything went alright with Sarah?” 

Settling beside Joel, a bowl of popcorn rests comfortably on your lap. The DVD menu is on, faint music of the movie he popped in echoing from the speakers. You were a bit hesitant to come over after today. And you were surprised to hear that Sarah went out to stay with her friends. You’d expected the two to have a long talk, maybe even share a pint of ice cream. But Sarah was Joel’s daughter after all, just like his father she probably cut it short, told her how she felt and they both moved on. 

You can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. However, as long as they’re both happy you don’t care all that much about how they get there. 

“It went fine,” Joel responds, throwing an arm over your shoulder. “Just like you said, I was honest and she understood. I’m tryin’ to figure out where to go from here. I think there are a bunch of old pictures in the garage, including Jessica and Sarah as a baby. I don’t know if she would wanna see those though.”

“Yeah. . .” Your eyes shift to the screen, sadly, you don’t really have an answer to that. It’s not like Sarah thinks of her mother fondly and would want to see pictures. Your brain and heart are both worn out from everything that happened today. Both organs scrambled and twisted. You let out a soft sigh—a sigh so soft that it barely parts your lips, but he hears you. 

“I haven’t asked how you were feelin’ about all this,” he squeezes your shoulder. “How have ya been? This wasn’t all too much for you was it?” 

You smile. After all this time you’re still not used to being looked out after. 

“I’m okay. I just. . .” You think of Tommy and the look he gave you right before giving all his attention to Sarah. The hurt look in his eyes. The suspicion. “I need you to promise me something—I need you to swear on it.” 

His brows furrow, the deep crease between them making your heart clench. You chew on the inside of your cheek, your stomach suddenly full of knots. “I need you to swear you’ll tell Tommy soon. We—We can do it together if you want but I can’t handle seeing him almost every day and just lying—”

“You’re—We’re not lyin’—” 

“Swear.”

He turns to you now. The soft light of the TV illuminating his face, making it appear softer. More innocent and full of hurt. His eyes grow kind, understanding. Your eyes widen slightly. Your breath catches in your throat. Your heart plummets. You don’t think there’s a man out there capable of better understanding you than Joel Miller. He’s everything. And he makes you feel like everything. 

“On my life.”

we're entering the vacation arc babes 🚗🌲🏞️

[hibischush]

Hello! Have you got any kissing headcanons for Eiland, March, and any romanceable you'd like? Thank you! :3

Ohhhh yes yes I do! I did the "spin the wheel" for the rest of the romanceables because I literally couldn't choose they're all so lovable already. Adeline was the chosen one so I guess we have a sibling special today lmao 🌺

Also, some of these are a bit suggestive, so⚠️minors proceed with caution!⚠️

Eiland

at first I feel like Eiland would be very gentlemanly when kissing you

Like after one of your first few dates he definitely leaned down and kissed your hand

bro is literally courting you like its the regency era

I think that it would take him awhile to gather up to kiss you

But I wholly support the idea that you initiate your first kiss

Like this is an outta-nowhere-unplanned-spontaneous kiss

Because Eiland would be the type to plan out extravagant dates to be memorable

I think you would kiss him for the first time when he's busy explaining (in great depth) the history behind an artifact at the dig sites

His eyes were just so bright and his voice was so animated and passionate and his lips were just

irresistible

You cut him off with a quick chaste kiss and oh man

His expression was priceless

He was so shocked and his face immediately heated up

Eiland was speechless for longer than you expected and you asked if he was okay

"I...yes! Of course! I just..." he pauses, thumbing the bottom of your lip while leaning closer and whispering, "I want to properly kiss you this time, with my full attention."

Once kissing became as natural as breathing air, Eiland kisses you more confidently

He almost always uses one hand to cradle your face and another to pull you closer by the waist

His favorite place to kiss you is your lips, but he is not picky in the slightest

When things heat up, I think he would be a... lip biter

BLASPHEMY I KNOW. A NOBLE LORD SUCH AS EILAND?!

He'd also kiss and nibble on your neck as long as you're fine with it

March

March 100% kisses you before you both are official

Bc he's a silly impulsive little tsudere

and to be clear its obvious that March likes you at this point, and you reciprocate

You want him to bring it up though because he will deny that he likes you lmao

Like you both were hanging out near the fountain in town and the tension is so thick that you could slice through it with a sword

heavy eye contact, fleeting touches, sly comments, etc.

you are breaking this man down

"You are so cute, March," you giggle, shoving him aside playfully

He blushes and pushes you back, almost defensively

"S-shut up. You just don't take me seriously, idiot."

Alright. This guy--

You're tired of his bs

"God, March," you groan, "you want to kiss me so damn bad it makes you look stupid!"

He fumes, before grabbing you by your shoulders and hesitating for a second

before you can say anything, his lips crash against your own

it was short but passionate

"Not so stupid now, huh?"

Anywhoozies

March is a very passionate guy, especially for you

While I believe he is a rough kisser when feeling extra...loving (purely out of desperation btw)

I think his favorite place to kiss you is on your nose 🥺

Especially as goodnight kisses

Adeline

Prefacing this with Adeline is lovely kisser

She always kisses you with purpose and emotion

You're her favorite person, and you help her relax when she can physically love on you

Your first kiss with Adeline was after a nice candlelit dinner after you two had been dating for awhile

Also just another hc I'm going to throw in here:

I think Adeline really enjoys ball room dancing

She used to do it more when she was younger and didn't have to watch over Mistria

So afterwards she asks if you would like to dance (ofc you accept)

While dancing and enjoying such a tender moment with Adeline, you noticed that she faltered and slowed to a stop

You quietly ask her if she was alright, and she looks at you with such warmth it made your heart race

"May I kiss you?"

When you nod your head yes, she smiles, wrapping her arms around your neck, as her eyelids flutter close and she gives you a soft lingering kiss

Afterwards you both kiss often, often short but sweet

Like kisses on the cheek in passing since the both of you are often busy

Adeline loves to kiss you on your cheek!

And she loves to receive kisses on her forehead

When you both have the alone time to be intimate, Adeline kisses you like you're her first breath of air after resurfacing from water lemme tell ya

The pair of you don't get much alone time together so she makes the most of it!

In conclusion, I am in love with them all. I honestly don't know which romanceable I'll go for in my first playthrough, I guess we'll all have to wait until August 5th 🥲

Side note: what is the God in this game. Using "God" just sounds weird as an interjection

[firefly--bright]

unplanned (unruled).

jean kirstein x reader!

summary ; jean liked to plan things out, and you liked to make rules. maybe you stray jeans plans away and maybe jean doesnt follow your rules.

warnings ; mentions of character death (marco), grief.

a/n ; something canon-compliant for ONCE lmao. i dont really know if i like this one as much as i like some of my other fics, but it was raining and i just. had to write something or else id perish.

taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes .

masterlist is in pinned post! ✿ join my taglist ✿ requests are open!

Jean Kirstein liked to plan. Meticulously, people might say, and his friends definitely agreed that he was a bit of a perfectionist when it came to things. He always went into every situation with a clear-cut goal and a way to get there.

However, his plans didn’t like him.

It had happened one too many times. He planned to be a trainee, yes, but he never planned to join the survey corps. He planned to be alone, yes, but he never planned on people actually liking him. He planned on a small life in the interiors but with the way things were going, he didn’t think that that plan would come to any fruition. He had planned on his life going normally – on him not seeing death at every moment, on him not having to break the news to his dead best friend’s mother on the outskirts of the city, on him not having to mourn the deaths and betrayals of his comrades over and over and over again. So naturally, jean hated everything that led him astray of his plans, which meant he hated the rain, fevers, and, most of all, you.

“are you done brooding, or do I have to hit you over the head like last time?” you asked, perching yourself beside him without permission, entering jean’s space as you had done time and time again. He was sitting on some rocks near the newly discovered beach as the sun met the ocean gently and slowly, settling down into it’s sleep for the night. You could see the moon in the distance, covered by heavy clouds, and you knew it was going to rain just by the smell of the air. You also knew how much jean hated the rain, and how much he hated getting sick after it, and you also knew about the fact that he disliked you.

You didn’t know why – you always made a set of rules in your head for everyone, thick pages bound with strings, left unlabelled but you knew what it meant. You knew the but’s and why’s and how to’s and knew what to avoid, knew how to not overstep on whatever line you had made in your head. With sasha it meant never to take her food, with connie it meant never to touch the back of his neck because he was ticklish and his only defense was to grab and throw whatever was next to him straight at you. With armin you knew to not touch his books and notes without permission, with Mikasa you knew what not to pry out of her and with eren you knew to listen and not engage with him while he talked about his mother or got lost in thought. That was always mikasa’s field, you had learnt and noted in your book. But you never knew what you did wrong with jean, what rules you had to follow or what line you had to make. He just didn’t like you, for some reason you couldn’t pinpoint, and you wouldn’t let it affect you as much as it did if not for the fact that you kept seeing him.

With each time you were near your friends, you were also near him, and you couldn’t let yourself know someone without knowing them, selfishly, so you could write another line in your rulebook, but jean didn’t let you. you saw him everywhere and yet didn’t know which line to pull, which circle to add and which number he’d be on your page.

You watched as he rolled his eyes but shifted his arm a bit to make room for you on the other rock. “I wasn’t brooding.” He muttered, loud enough for you to hear. You scoffed with a smile, “yes you were. You were sitting at the bonfire like a kid who lost his favourite toy.”

“I was not,” he said, in no mood to tease you back. His mind whirred as did his heart and he tried not to let his hand mingle with yours as much as he wanted it to. He planned on sitting here until he saw the sun fully submerging into the water, even if the clouds were cloaking its move and the wind was picking up, making his hair ruffle against it.

The slight pause in the conversation concerned you. tilting your head, you asked, “what’s up?” in a tone that made jean shiver under his uniform’s coat. He shook his head, turning his face away from you, but it was you, so of course nothing would slip away from your mind, from your book. He didn’t plan on his heart skipping a beat as you laid your hand on top of his hesitantly, softly. They were a little cold, but warmed him up anyway. “come on,” you coaxed him, “I know we aren’t…. the best of friends. Walls, we don’t even like each other, but if you let your bad mood fester up, it’ll eventually burst out and hurt the people you love most.”

He snorted, “and you’re trying to fix it?”

“well you aren’t going to. May I remind you that the people you love are also my friends?” you replied, and jean stayed silent in the fact that you always seemed to have an answer to retaliate. you stayed silent in the fact that you didn’t know where the reply came from. You always spoke to your friends freely, but you were also always scared of accidentally stepping out of line. You stayed silent because jean wasn’t your friend, and there were no rules to follow with him like the chant you kept repeating to yourself when talking to everyone else.

and you kind of liked it.

He sighed, taking his other hand and dragging it down his face. “I miss him.”

He didn’t have to say his name for you to know. Marco was close to everyone in the 104th, but especially to you and jean despite the both of you having not spent too much time together. Jean would constantly hear about you through marco and you’d constantly hear about jean as well, but that’s where the similarities ended. Where you wanted to reach out to jean through marco after hearing so much about him, jean wanted to do the exact opposite. jean planned on not being your friend and he was persistent in keeping it that way.

“me too,” you confessed, going back to looking at the rapid waves crashing into the shore. Your pants were rolled up to your knees, your toes grazing the water. “you remember when you made him spill soup all over himself?”

That got him to smirk. “yeah, I was proud of that-“

“I wasn’t.”

“-I mean, I apologized, of course. But it was fun. We laughed so hard, I almost choked on my bread.”

You breathed out a laugh. “and then he complained to me about it.” There was a silence after that sentence, and usually you would wonder if you did something wrong or overstepped. But for some reason, with jean, you didn’t feel like you did, you didn’t break any rules or have to keep repeating that chant and you liked it.

and that scared you.

“do you regret not being there for him during his last moments?” he asked, exhaling. “I do.” He says.

You nod. “I do too. I don’t know what exactly happened or if I could’ve even stopped it, but if I was there atleast I’d have –“

“-been there. I know. Me too.” He completes. “we lost so many people,”

the way he says ‘we’ like youre a team and not two separate beings makes your heart warm, but you hum in sombre agreement, “and all for what?”

There’s yet another silence after that. There aren’t many moments in which you found yourself similar to jean; after all, you didn’t know him, but right now was rare even if it wasn’t known – you and jean silently surprised by how well you could read each other despite not knowing much at all. Jean hadn’t planned on having to share a space with you during the sunset, but here you were.

You weren’t following any rules when you decided to speak up, “he would’ve like this.”

Jean smirked. “what? Us talking?” you laughed. “no. I mean, yeah, that too, but he would’ve liked seeing the sunset on the beach.” You said.

“I was just thinking about that.” Jean said. He looked at you to find you already looking at him and this time jean didn’t think about his godforsaken plans when you asked him another question. You weren’t thinking of all the possible other safer things you could’ve said. “why don’t you like me?”

He blew air out of his mouth as if you’d asked him for a large favour, and you might as well have. Jean planned on not being your friend since the moment marco had started talking to him about you, animatedly, excitedly, adoringly just as marco had done about jean to you. jean had planned on subtly shooting down all of your peace offerings, jean had planned on you being stubborn about it because it was one of the many things marco told him about, and jean planned on not getting close to you because he knew he’d fall in love with you.

But here you were. Stubborn and hesitant and beautiful against the dying light of the setting sun and the cloudy, grey skies that went unnoticed by jean but not by you, slowly scooting closer to him, trying to find some heat against the slowly falling raindrops on your hair.

“I don’t… hate you,” he answered, also shifting closer to you until your shoulders were brushing. You snorted, “I didn’t think you hated me.”

“I just…I’m scared of… knowing you. when marco used to tell me about you, I kind of planned how you’d act towards me and I acted according to it, even though you didn’t do anything in reality, I guess?” he said. His hand that was under yours was still there, though fidgeting, and he waved his other hand around, trying to make sense of it to you. you didnt say anything and jean thought he’d messed up. You were an anomaly, a wrench in his plans and now he was freefalling without any support or scaffoldings.

and he liked it.

But then you laughed. “that’s stupid.” You said, continuing to laugh as you made yet another revelation – you wouldn’t say this to someone without regretting it. But here you were.

You could forget about that thick rulebook you had flipped through since you were little in order to not step on anyone’s feelings, in order to stay in your own safety net, but now you were freefalling and you liked it. Jean was an exception to your rules, refusing to follow any of the lines you had made for yourself, because it was stupid that he’d go into anything with a plan of how people would react, and it was stupid that you’d go into anything with rules and calculations of what they’d say.

You were both stupid. And jean realised it too after hearing you laugh, and he joined in your laughter as well. His hair was now completely drenched, as was yours, and he could feel you shivering beside him despite how warm you were making him.

Shrugging his coat off and placing it on your shoulders was something he hadn’t planned. You didn’t need to follow any rules as you accepted it and leaned against him as he supported you.

Jean was a terrible planner, and rules were only meant to be broken after following them for so long.

[snowdice]

Unplanned Consequences (Part 5: Patton) [Sometimes Labels Shift Series-The End]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton/Logan

Characters: Patton, Logan, Virgil (mentioned), Roman (mentioned)

Summary: Sometimes... things change.

Notes: This takes place after Best Laid Plans

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

“Hey Lo,” Patton said as he walked into the living room. Virgil had officially moved into an apartment with Roman a few days ago as the spring semester was starting tomorrow. This left Patton and Logan living alone together in the house for the first time since… The Incident.

Patton had just finished cleaning up dinner after getting Logan settled on the couch. The TV was on, but Logan was currently staring past it into space, something he never used to do, but had become a frequent occurrence since getting injured. It worried Patton a bit, but he tried not to think about it.

Logan looked up at him as Patton said his name. He didn’t smile softly at Patton like he usually would have. It made something clog in Patton’s throat.

“Hello,” Logan said.

“I… made us both some tea,” Patton said, holding out the tea mugs as though for his approval.

“Thank you, love.” He still seemed distracted and distant. He turned back towards the television.

Patton nodded and then walked over to set the mugs on the coffee table. Then, he sat down on the couch next to Logan. Years of instinct told him to scootch over closer until their arms and legs intermingled, but he hesitated.

Logan either noticed his hesitation, or noticed his deviation from the norm, because he glanced over at Patton. He lifted the arm closest to Patton and Patton instantly took the invitation, moving closer to curl up under his arm.

Logan pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

It was silent between them for a long moment, only the sound of the television droning on breaking the quiet. The news was on, Patton noted. There was coverage on a supervillain attack Prince had stopped the night before.

“I think I need to retire,” Logan said out of the blue.

Patton drew back to look at him in surprise. “What?” he asked. “You’ve been given medical leave until next fall. You’ll be more than recovered enough to go back to teaching by then.”

Logan looked at him for a moment and then gave him a wry smile. “I wasn’t talking about teaching, my dear.”

“Oh,” Patton said blinking at him. “Oh.” He took a moment to process that statement. “But you… you want to retire?”

“I wouldn’t say want,” Logan said, “but I think it may be the most responsible course of action.”

“You… I know you’re struggling with the leg and everything right now, but you’ll get better.”

“Patton,” Logan said, “you’re a doctor.”

“Exactly!” Patton said, feeling oddly defensive for a reason he couldn’t place. “So, I know exactly how people heal from injuries like yours. You’ll need time, but with physical therapy and…”

Logan cut him off. “With physical therapy,” he said, “I will get much better. I will perhaps walk again, maybe even without a mobility aid eventually, but Patton, I’m 57-years-old. This severe of an injury is not going to heal quickly or completely.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m getting old,” Logan said. “I’ve been slowing down, and this will not help me speed up. Being Bluebird is physically… and mentally demanding. I won’t be able fully meet those demands again after what happened.”

“That’s not true,” Patton said even though he wasn’t sure of that himself.

“It is,” said Logan. “It’s always something that would happen eventually. This has just… sped up the process.”

“You’re catastrophizing,” Patton said. It was probably an ironic statement to make when Patton’s words sounded so much more upset than his husband’s. “You’re making a rash decision because you feel bad now, but…”

“This isn’t rash,” Logan said, evenly. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot in the last months.”

Patton didn’t know what to say to that.

“Besides,” he said, nodding at the TV. The news had cycled around again while they talked, back to Prince, back to Roman. “I’m not the city’s only long-term hero anymore. Roman had been doing well before and is doing even better now. I will continue to help him on his journey, and it won’t be an immediate transition. Bluebird will still make a few appearances, but I do think it’s time. For my own sake and ultimately for this city’s too.”

Patton hesitated. Logan was right, of course, that this was inevitable. It’s just that Patton had never really thought about it. He didn’t want to think about it, especially now when Logan was still so hurt in multiple ways. He’d been telling himself that eventually things would go back to normal, but Logan had just confirmed Patton’s greatest fear: they wouldn’t.

It felt selfish to be upset, but Patton really couldn’t help it. Patton felt himself gripping onto Logan’s sleeve for support even though support was Patton’s job right now. He felt tears in his eyes, but he resisted letting them fall.

“Are you okay?” Logan asked.

“I…” Patton said. A couple of the tears escaped. “It’s just… I’ve never known a Logan that wasn’t also Bluebird.”

Logan sighed softly. He gently removed Patton’s grasping hand from his shirt sleeve to hold it in his own. “Things change,” he said, doing that thing where he stared into the distance again, “labels shift.”

A/N:

And that my friends, is the end of Sometimes Labels Shift.

It's been a long time coming and I'm feeling a bit emotional even though it's not the end of the Labeled Universe. We're just moving on to the next chapter.

All of our favorite Labeled characters will return in the new sub-series named Envisage. I hope to see you there.

[vellichxrr6782]

CHAPTER ONE, fever dream high.

SYNOPSIS: your well-wishing managers suggest a preposterous idea, to combat your sharply decreasing fan-following.

CHARACTERS (in this chapter): childe, jean, zhongli.

CW/TW: childe and reader overreact, childe is already dating someone else.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k words.

<- previous chapter | cruel summer masterlist | next chapter ->

"so... let me get this straight."

falling in love is unplanned, unnecessary, and uncalled for. 

that was what you told yourself. you had your goals set in front of you, and love was just a little pastime. 

unfortunately, for you, you didn't really have time to pass with pastimes. 

"you want us to date...?" you finished, your disbelief obvious in your tone. you crossed your legs, fidgeting with your fingers. 

maybe that’s why the mere idea of love was enough to set off your fight-or-flight response. morbid, and quite frankly, ironic, considering you were an a-list actress who acted in romance movies most of the time.

"well, pretend to date.." your manager, jean clarified. her voice was a little shaky, as if she already knew your answer. 

what. the. hell. your only emotion in that moment was disbelief. you’d certainly been asked to act in some odd movies with odd plots, but this wasn’t a movie. this was real life. and your one trustworthy manager had just stabbed you in the back by even suggesting such a preposterous idea. 

(you are most definitely over-reacting right now.)

unacceptable. 

"come again?" the unfortunately-familiar ginger-haired male beside you raised a brow, just as bewildered as you at the mere thought. “us…both?” he pointed to himself, then pointed to you, his voice hesitant as if he were treading into dangerous territory.

"pretend to be in a relationship, childe." childe's manager, zhongli spoke calmly, taking a sip of his tea as if he were unbothered. "for the media." 

for the...media? relationship? love? kissing? foreign words. absolutely foreign words to you. 

your schedule and your own rationality didn't allow you to fall in love. not to mention, your poor partner would get caught in the limelight, which they might not even want. you didn't really want your private life to be on display for everyone to come and give their opinion on.

you weren’t a big fan of change, especially when the change came in the form of childe ajax tartaglia, with his many names but only one sole purpose in life; to be the death of you. 

and you knew, people said, “you’re going to be the death of me,” in a romantic sense.

but childe was going to be the death of you because you loathed him.

with all the above information taken into consideration, you knew your answer immediately.

"NO!" on instinct, you both yelled in chorus, aware of how terrible this idea was. 

"calm down, let us explain- " jean began, waving her arms around frantically. 

"your explanation will not change my opinion. jean, you know how i’m against faking things to the media's satisfaction." you crossed your arms defensively, and jean sighed, opening her mouth to explain. 

"just hear us out- " 

"there's nothing to hear you out about! i have a girlfriend, for archons' sake, zhongli! what, you want me to publically cheat on her?" childe furrowed his brows, and zhongli kept his composure, shrugging. 

"break up with her, then." zhongli nonchalantly spoke, his gaze firmly fixed on the tea in front of him.

"gods, i didn't know you out of all people could be so insensitive!" childe snapped at his manager, and jean raised her voice, clearly exasperated from all the yelling. 

"if you would just not jump to conclusions, and let us explain, it would be absolutely splendid." 

you and childe sat down on the stools beside each other, zipping your mouths to hear whatever nonsensical explanation your managers had come up with. although you were certain it would do nothing to change your mind, of course. you were just as stubborn as childe was.

"everyone knows about the undeniable chemistry between you two." 

"please phrase it better." you made a disgusted face, impatiently clicking your shoes against the floor. 

undeniable chemistry made it sound like you were willing to go on all-fours, running around trying to smooch childe in public.

that’s a very… unflattering visual. you made a mental note to erase that from your mind forever.

"your acting is so convincing, that your fans genuinely think you both are in love." jean continued, cautious of every word she was saying, as if she was walking on eggshells, "and you both are a popular pairing in most movies and shows you're casted in. this makes you two a very anticipated and highly-adored pairing.”

"and?" childe frowned, exasperated. "you're telling me stuff i already know. i know i'm amazing. you can skip over that, y'know?"

"you're shameless, that's what you are." you said, narrowing your eyes in distaste. “you are a pathetic excuse for an actor.”

"well, at least i don't have an ego the size of my head, to the point where i don't think about others and only care about my own image and act like a spoilt brat-"

"childe." zhongli glared. "jean, continue." 

"...but when you check your recent popularity reports, they seem to be going down by quite a bit, due to a new actor taking the screens." 

now this was news to you. 

every month, there was a popularity poll released for teyvat’s entertainment industry. ranging from actors, to dancers, to singers, to almost anything that would be considered a part of the industry, the higher ups would write a proper article on who was rising to the top, and who was falling off the charts. 

it was a simple yet subtle tactic to motivate stars to do better in their work, and see where they currently stand. 

you and childe had been at the top for almost two years. it was absolutely wild how many people were loyal and adoring fans of you both, especially when you two worked together. you were quite used to being number one. 

and as stated before, you did not like change. so this sudden decrease in your rank? how could you let that slide? 

"who's this new actor?" you spoke, in your newfound sense of hurt-pride. "and what do you mean, i'm not doing as well?"

"see what i mean when i say, 'only care about my own image'?-" childe whispered loudly. without hesitation, you stomped on his foot. he cried out in pain, immediately scowling at you when he recovered.

"the media will soon move on from you both and focus on the rising star, thus resulting in a drastic decrease in both your popularities." zhongli put down his porcelain cup on the table, hands on his lap. "so me and jean thought about ways to get you both back on the headlines."

"might as well commit a crime. then i’ll be sure to be in the headlines." childe murmured, "kaeya has been rather annoying these days. i'm sure no one will notice if he disapp-" 

"please, no." jean raised her hand, and childe sank into his seat in disappointment. "since the public is anticipating a confirmation regarding the both of you dating... we assumed-"

"the only way to let you both be the 'next big thing', was to confirm that you both are indeed, in love." 

was this the most stupid yet intriguing idea you’d heard all your life? yes.

did you want to do it for your rank, even though you would actually get a stroke if you dated childe? also yes.

your head was spinning at the mere thought of having to play a stupid game, just to get your number one rank back.

and with such high stakes, too? acting to be childe's lover in the movies was already such an annoyance.

childe, or ajax, has acted in many, many movies with you over the years. enemies, friends, lovers and strangers. just through movies, you felt like you've experienced all the stages of a relationship with him. 

and to make it an actual, official relationship? 

well, it was still acting. a fake relationship. so has nothing changed? you'd still be pretending and faking your emotions. would it really be that bad then? considering you’d have to lie to everyone around you, maybe.

contemplative silence filled the room.

"you only have to do it for a few months." zhongli reassured, but it didn't help lift the atmosphere much. "till the shooting for the newest movie you both have been working on is done." 

"you guys can officially call it quits on the premiere day of the movie you both are currently working on." jean nodded in agreement with zhongli. 

"it's like a contract of sorts." zhongli smiled, "so please consider and accept our offer. and keep in mind that we do whatever we do with your best interests in heart." 

"...i need some time to think." you straightened up. 

"i don’t, it's a no from me." childe got up, dusting invisible dust off his clothes. "sorry 'bout it. but i'm not pretending to like someone because i'm not as popular as i used to be. my life isn’t a movie, and i can’t play the role of y/n’s lover behind the screens."

"childe, please reconsider. this could be a huge push for your career. you'll be thankful in the long run." zhongli urged, standing up to follow behind childe, who was already about to leave, sparing no second thoughts.

"i'm not lying to the people who admire me, neither will i lie to myself." he turned towards the door, sighing. "... but still, let's see where things go." 

he left, and the room went silent.

you didn't know if you should've been disappointed that childe said no, or relieved. for now, you’d be relieved. besides, what’s the harm in being second sometimes?

“well, i was looking forward to the premiere, imagine if no one showed up, haha.” jean crossed her fingers, hoping this would work.

and it sure did.

“what?” you seethed, “no, not at all. everyone will show up.” 

“well, the actor who’s currently beating you both is also working on a movie, rumoured to release around the same time as yours.” zhongli smiled, “considering your sharp decrease, i’m certain that by the time the shooting for the movie is over, you both are doomed.” 

doomed.

that word echoed in the back of your mind. 

childe peeked in through the door, “sorry, forgot my keys.” he grabbed the keys laying on the table, and waved. “see ya-” 

“ajax,” you called, your back straight, a serious look in your eyes, which made him nervous. “break up with your girlfriend. you’re getting a new one.”

published on; 28th february, 2023. writing belongs to @/vellichxrr6782 on tumblr.

[serasarahhhh]

Author: Maxine Pairings: BakuDeku Rating: R Chapters: 11/? Notes: Accidental quirk shenanigans result in an unplanned pregnancy. Post-canon, no a/b/o dynamics. Summary: It's not that Katsuki didn't want kids. He figured he'd have them one day, probably. That he and Izuku would adopt or maybe figure something else out. This is NOT how it was supposed to go. ~~~~~ CHAPTER 11 He gets on campus without any issue, looking around in a daze of fond nostalgia. It’s been a while since he’s been back here, but of course nothing has changed. His feet take him directly to the main building where classes are held – there’s less than two weeks between terms, so spring break or not, Katsuki’s pretty sure he’d find a good portion of the teachers in their classrooms if he went looking. Prepping for the incoming students, getting ready for another year of molding little wannabe heroes, all that junk. And sure enough, when he reaches classroom 1-A, he finds Aizawa sitting at his desk like he’s already waiting for the next crop of wide-eyed kids with big dreams to find their way there. He’s hunched over as he works, marking up various papers that are spread in front of him, and for a moment it almost feels like Katsuki’s the first one to class, bright and early in the morning, and the rest of his friends are going to pour in after him any second. He hesitates in the doorway, letting the raucous noise of twenty teens who survived a war together fade out of his ears, and then shoves his hands into his pockets and clears his throat. “You not a fan of the teachers’ lounge or something?” Aizawa’s head snaps up, his good eye landing on Katsuki in brief surprise before he settles into his usual dry, unaffected countenance. “Certain other members of the staff who enjoy being unnecessarily loud are working in there right now. I took that as my sign to get the hell out.” It’s quick, and probably accidental, but Katsuki doesn’t miss the way the man’s gaze drops ever so briefly to his midsection before bouncing back up again. “How are you, Bakugou?” …Shit. Okay then. Best get it over with. “So…you know. Right?” Katsuki pulls his hands free again and instead crosses his arms somewhat defensively low across his chest, just above the baby bump that really isn’t staying hidden anymore. “Which idiot ran their mouth?” Aizawa lets out a small sigh and sets his pencil down before meeting Katsuki’s probing stare. “Shinsou. But if it helps, it seemed like an accident and I don’t think he told any of the other staff members. I just happen to see him regularly.” Fucking of course. He should’ve known. “It’s whatever,” Katsuki grumbles, eyes drifting to the side for a moment before darting back. “Easier if I don’t have to say it, I guess. Still gonna kick his ass, though.” “Presumably after…” Aizawa gestures toward Katsuki’s stomach, which makes him snort out a self-deprecating little laugh despite himself. “Nah, I could take him now,” he says with a sharp grin. “Kid hasn’t totally incapacitated me yet.” A beat passes, and the grin fades as Katsuki shoots Aizawa a faintly sheepish look. “Uh… Sorry I never returned your call, sensei.” That has the corner of Aizawa’s mouth tugging upward in obvious amusement. “I think you’ve been justifiably preoccupied.” “No kidding.” “You seem to be handling it well, though.” “Sure, now.” Katsuki scowls. “After totally losing my shit for the first couple weeks.” “Your ability to maintain your problem child status never ceases to amaze me,” Aizawa says wryly. “Tell Midoriya I scheduled my retirement the second Shinsou let the news slip. The idea of having your combined genes in my classroom immediately gave me a migraine.” “Your loss,” Katsuki snarks back at him. “She’s probably gonna be the greatest hero of her generation – if she wants.” Continue reading at AO3. Through chapter 11 now posted!

[nakedmonkey]

15, 21 Shiv / Karolina

OMG these are SO good. Thank you!

15) what scent reminds them of the other?

The thing about Shiv and Karolina, is that they've spent literal years in rooms and hallways together. Even before they started hooking up. So, it's no surprise that Shiv has committed the scent of peonies and undertones of cedarwood in Karolina's perfume to memory. She can pick it up anywhere. Not because she's sentimental (gross) but because she has taste. And one of the first things she noticed upon meeting Karolina was how great she smelled. It was a floral scent, though not overwhelmingly so, and not too sweet, not juvenile, but feminine and sophisticated with just enough dark tones to pack a punch. It's only coincidental that when Tom gets Shiv flowers, oftentimes, it's some peony based arrangement, but she takes her time taking in the fragrance, breathing in the scent and allowing herself a brief trip back to the nook of Karolina's neck. Thoughts of Karolina lie within floral arrangements, and the smell of pastries, which Shiv's learned, not through volunteered information mind you but pure observation, that Karolina is a fiend for. Scones in particular.

For Karolina, it's the smell of Irish whiskey, and vanilla scents in general. The first time they kissed, they were sitting at a bar, an unplanned run-in, and Shiv had ordered shots that she wound up drinking herself because Karolina tries not let her defenses down around her boss or his offspring. Regret came the morning after regardless, and Karolina almost wished she'd accepted that drink, because at least she'd have that to blame the horrible decision to bed Shiv Roy on. At any rate, she recalls drinking that moment in, when Shiv pushed her up against the door to her home and she tasted whiskey. She tasted whiskey the whole time they undressed each other, maneuvering around the kiss they refused to break lest anyone have any second thoughts. Any awkwardness that might have settled around them in the morning was effectively replaced with the awkwardness of Karolina finding Shiv in her kitchen, watching a youtube tutorial on how to make french toast. Karolina figured, no matter what turn her professional life took because of this, she'd always associate the scent of spilled vanilla extract with great sex, both in her bed and against her kitchen counter, and Shiv Roy. If she were to pick a third, and if unearned confidence had a scent, well, it'd be that, too.

21) What song fits them the most?

This is so hard, but I think, maybe after a quick scan through my liked songs, "I Don't Care Much" by Hailey Tuck (but it could change tomorrow)

OTP headcanon asks

[theghostpinesmusic]

Eagle Cap Circumnavigation (2/4)

I woke up on the first full day of my Eagle Cap circumnavigation feeling much less sick, and therefore more optimistic about my ability to do the whole hike without it turning into a death march. I didn't know at the time, as I finished packing up my camp and headed east toward the nearby Cliff Creek Trail, that I was starting what would turn out to be the longest single day of hiking I've done (so far) while carrying a full backpack.

Maybe I should have seen this coming, as I didn't have a very firm plan when heading out that morning, and lack of an end goal usually leads me to hike more, not less. I knew I wanted to head north, toward the Lakes Basin, but Mirror Lake, in the heart of the basin, was quite a distance from Crater Lake (GaiaGPS said 17 miles and 5,000 feet of elevation, and it usually underestimates). In-between were a number of great camp spots like the Frazier Lakes, Glacier Lake, and Moccasin Lake. I had to think about how to balance how far I wanted to travel on this day as well as the next day to reach my final camping goal, which was Hidden Lake on the other side of Eagle Cap. Knowing I'd be spending a lot of time on the trail alone and in my own head, I hadn't bothered to figure this out before getting to the trailhead, enjoying the excitement of the idea of deciding what to do intuitively, as I hiked. I just knew, as an outer limit on my mileage for the day, that I did not intend to walk all the way to Mirror Lake and would definitely stop before then.

Should I just post the photos of my camp at Mirror Lake now, or have you already guessed what happened because you've read this blog before?

Okay, so, like the first day, I somehow started the second day of the hike by getting lost. This trip report is making me seem like an absolute doofus, so in my admittedly shaky defense I will say that both the trail emerging from the East Eagle trailhead (where I got lost on day one) and the trail emerging from the east side of Crater Lake (where I got lost on day two) were churned up quite a bit and featured a number of "unofficial" spin-offs due to people riding horses in the area while the ground was muddy. I'm not strongly for or against horses in Wilderness Areas here, just making an observation and a meager defense of my own stupidity.

In this case, I managed to follow a sort-of trail for nearly a mile (in the right direction, east, but, as it would turn out, about five hundred feet uphill from the "real" trail). I had some reservations about this trail from the get-go, but I stayed on it all the way until it dead-ended nearly a mile from Crater Lake at an impromptu, empty camp site. Then there was no trail and I had to accept the fact that I was lost again. Whoops.

Fortunately, once I realized I was in trouble and took a moment to hike out to a more meadow-y, open part of the not-trail, I could actually see other backpackers five hundred feet below me traversing the same hill on the trail I was supposed to be on. So, I started my day, more or less, with an extremely sketchy descent down an old drainage filled with loose rocks until I reached the trail. At least this area was gorgeous, with the face of Marble Mountain looming in front of me, and Red and Granite Mountains hanging seemingly nearly overhead. My knees, though, would remind of this unplanned descent for the rest of the day.

Once I was back on the (real) trail, things were pretty straightforward for awhile. I took the Cliff Creek Trail to where it dead-ended into the South Fork Imnaha River, spent a minute trying to find a place to cross that would allow me to keep my boots dry, shimmied across a wet log, then had a friendly chat with another solo backpacker who was taking a lunch break on a little island in the middle of the river. The backpacker told me that she had camped at Frazier Lake the previous night after finding the wind to be overwhelming at Glacier Lake (a common occurrence, in my experience). I filed that information away for later, then continued north(ish) from there.

After another mile or so, the valley really started to open up. I could see the odd-looking cliffs of the Cusick Peaks and a little of Cusick Mountain hovering to my right, while the striking face of Jackson Peak reared up further ahead.

Up until now all the hiking I'd done since parking the car had been on trails I'd never traveled before in the Wallowas. I knew Hawkins Pass was coming up soon, but I knew very little about what it was like other than that you gained nearly a half-mile in elevation between the intersection with the river and the top of the pass. I had some general hope that it would be "cool," based on other passes I'd crossed in the Wallowas previously that provided views of some absolutely insane landscape (Glacier Pass, Polaris Pass, Tenderfoot Pass, and Ivan Carper Pass come to mind), but I was a blank slate otherwise.

So, as I was gearing myself up both physically and aesthetically (?) for my first crossing of Hawkins Pass I encountered another solo hiker, who was doing the same loop I was doing, but from the opposite direction. We traded stories and ideas for future hikes for a few minutes, and then he proceeded to try to describe how crazy Hawkins Pass was while his eyes bugged out of his head. I heard the words "enormous glacial cirque" and then I was more or less off and running (in a manner of speaking) from there. Why else come to the Wallowas in the first place, but for ENORMOUS GLACIAL CIRQUES?

The (still) long approach to the climbing portion of the pass was both absolutely beautiful and seemed to drag on and on, as each turn in trail revealed another (but not the final) exposure of the previously-advertised enormous glacial cirque. It felt contradictory to rush through such a beautiful landscape, but each turn revealed an even better view, leading me to plow through the lead up to the pass proper like a five-year-old plowing through a stack of presents on Christmas morning, each gift only serving as motivation to find and open the next one.

When I finally saw the full scale of the thing, it knocked the breath out of me for a minute. Obviously, photos don't really do it justice. This was my first-ever hike in the Wallowas with a wide-angle lens, and all it really did was make even more clear how hard it is to capture the landscape with a camera in any meaningful way.

After the big reveal, it was lots of climbing and lots of wind. The trail winds ingeniously up and to the north (left in the picture), eventually giving you a wonderful view of the valley you just spent an hour or two hiking up.

As I got higher, the path got narrower, and the wind became a bit of a liability for someone with a moderate fear of falling-from-heights, but before too long I'd reached the top of Hawkins Pass.

Coming from the south side of the pass, which was all fall foliage and (I think?) limestone rock faces, the north side presented a view and palette that was more familiar to me as I neared the area of the Wallowas that I'd hiked in before.

From here, I could see for the first time terrain that I knew: Eagle Cap and Glacier Peak reared up in the background, and though I'd never seen them from this angle before, the Frazier Lakes laid out in the valley below like a teal necklace a giant had dropped and left behind.

I wound down the north side of the pass, at this point so used to hiking uphill that the quick, nearly-1,000-foot drop felt like a reprieve instead of yet more work. I stopped for the first substantive break of the day (as opposed to a few previous less-than-five-minutes breaks) at Little Frazier Lake, which seemed to be lacking decent camping sites but provided a great view of the pass's north-side cirque.

Post-break, I continued on downhill a bit further before reaching the intersection between the West Fork Wallowa Trail and the Glacier Pass Trail. This was the first time, fifteen or so miles into the trip, where I stepped onto ground I had walked before. From the trail intersection, I could see where Lindsey and I had camped at Frazier Lake in 2017, while completing a counter-clockwise take on the Lakes Basin Loop hike. After having my mind blown by Hawkins Pass, it was a bit sad to know there wouldn't be any other "new" surprises until I reached the west side of Eagle Cap, likely midway through the third day of the trip. On the other hand, it was comforting to be somewhere I was more familiar with, especially after struggling to follow the trail a few times back in the "rougher," southern part of the wilderness. Also, one of my absolute favorite parts of the whole wilderness was coming up soon: Glacier Pass.

As I mentioned above, the Frazier Lakes had been the first potential stopping point for me on day two. I reached them about two hours earlier than my imagined "slowest possible" time, though, which meant that when the decision to stop and camp or not was actually upon me, there was plenty of daylight left and I chose pretty much immediately to pass them up in the name of using more daylight to cover more miles and set myself up for an easier third day tomorrow.

The good and bad news, then, was that the next step was climbing Glacier Pass, an absolutely gorgeous glacier-carved pass leading up and then back down into the famous Lakes Basin: I'd be climbing 1,400 more feet up, then deciding whether or not to camp at the beautiful but notoriously windy Glacier Lake, then descending 1,000 more feet down if not. Past Glacier Pass, I'd likely be hiking in the twilight, and would have to hope to find a spot to camp in the busiest area in the wilderness after nightfall.

The scenery around Glacier Pass is another one of those things that's almost impossible to capture with a camera, but it's emblematic of what makes the Wallowas incredible to me: the scope of some of these glacial valleys is just unlike anything I've seen anywhere else I've been. To reach the top of the pass and look back to see another hiker a half-mile behind you (as I did during this hike) looking like an ant squirming around within an impossibly huge landscape is an overwhelming experience. And then you keep walking.

Like with Hawkins Pass, I have thirty or so more photos I could share of this pass-crossing, but it's probably best to just get on with it.

Glacier Lake was as stunning as always, emerging as does, in reverse, from the West Fork Wallowa River, if you're following the trail up from the south as I was. Glacier Peak leaned over top of the whole tableau, reminding me yet again that I haven't summitted it yet, and Eagle Cap occasionally peeked coyly out from behind the background hills, egging me on toward the Lakes Basin that it presides over like a monarch.

I've never camped at Glacier Lake because, as beautiful as it is, there is always a freezing wind tearing across its surface. In 2017, Lindsey and I had planned to spend a night there, and ended up descending to Frazier Lake instead to stay warm. In 2019, we had also planned to spend a night there, then bailed for an already-established camp at Moccasin Lake after the wind once again scared us off. I was really into the idea of this trip being The Time, was convinced I'd really be camping there, finally. There was even a great, open camp spot right on the lake, a rarity in a part of the wilderness that is usually a little overpopulated by humans. But there was also the wind. Again.

I didn't have a lot of daylight left at this point, but rather than motivating me to stop, set up my tent, and enjoy shelter, it underscored exactly how cold it was going to be once the sun went down on the shore of Glacier Lake. My hands and feet had mostly gone numb from the gale the moment I reached the lake, and it wasn't going to get any warmer until tomorrow. I stopped and thought about it for a minute, chatted with a few established campers, and then decided to continue on to the top of Glacier Pass and beyond. Maybe next time.

Glacier Lake looks unreal from near the top of the pass. I almost turned around and went back. Almost.

This was already much further than I'd planned on hiking, already the furthest I'd ever hiked in a day with a full pack, and, likely the most elevation I'd ever gained in one day with a full pack. Getting a new personal best (time, distance, elevation, etc.) tends not to mean a lot to me as I'm generally not very competitive even with myself. Instead, it's usually more esoteric "rewards" (like the view from Hawkins Pass) that motivate me; however, at this point in the day even the descent of the striking north side of Glacier Pass, a view that filled the sky with old friends (Eagle Cap, Sacajawea Peak, the Matterhorn, and so on), and the spectacle of the Lakes Basin coming into view below me were overcome a bit by my just being tired and hungry and having feet that hurt.

I did in fact descend all the way into the Lakes Basin, and continued on past a super-busy Moccasin Lake (where a nice older woman offered to let me set up camp nearer to her than would normally be polite, as she was concerned about me still being out and about in the darkness) to a surprisingly less-busy Mirror Lake. In the midst of summer, finding a spot on the granite slabs along the shore of Mirror Lake is a bit like finding rental property...well, basically anywhere these days. For some reason, though, everyone was camped out around Moccasin Lake instead on this particular night. So, I swooped in just at sunset and grabbed a wonderful spot right near the lake, with a perfect view of Eagle Cap.

I set up the tent right as it got truly dark, had to cook and eat in the dark, and crawled into my tent for the night almost immediately afterward. I had covered way more distance than I'd expected to in one day, but my third day, the hike to Hidden Lake, was still going to be a bit of a doozy.

In the end, my GPS watch recorded the trip from Crater Lake to Mirror Lake as an 18.25 mile hike, with 4,200 feet of elevation gain. I realize that for some, that's just an average day on the JMT, but for me it was a lot. I slept like it.

[franeridart]

Anon said: How are those doodles?? Your "doodles" are a million times better than any of my finished drawings (i love them btw they are so f*cking cute!!!!)

AHHHH THANK YOU!!!! They really are doodles though haha 

Anon said: What are your OCs' names?? They are so cool I'm in love with them ♡♡

If you’re talking about the four in the latest original art post I made, then they’re Chris (with the undercut), Josh (with the long hair), Max (with the scarf) and Leo (with the eyepatch)!! I’m so so happy you like them, they’re old enough to be part of me by now so seeing them liked is always such a warm feeling!!

Anon said: Do you take prompts/suggestions? Sorry I don’t know your policy but would you consider drawing Bokuro ft jealous!Bo? I’ve always headcanoned that Kuroo is really popular with both boys and girls because of his confidence and effortless charm; whether he’s oblivious to this attention despite his intelligence or aware of it yet ignoring it is anyone’s guess~ I always look forward to your art and recently got into Haikyuu!! And damn, I do ship Kuroken too but you have me addicted to Bokuro now *_* ||  Aah finally got the FAQ open (blame mobile tumblr for being a bitch), and yup my last ask is def a suggestion and I hope you’ll consider using it~ Somewhat unrelated, do you regularly add stuff to your red bubble? I love your Kiribaku art but I’m a huge fan of Momo (&Todomomo) and Kuroo (&Bokuro), is there any chance you have something in the works with them up for sale soon? Thanks

GOSH thank you so much for liking my old hq stuff enough to ask for more!! I’m not sure if I’ll get back to drawing bokuro soon, honestly? So I can’t promise that if I’ll go through with the suggestion it’ll be soon, but I’ll definitely keep it in mind for when the mood strikes!! And about the shop, I add to it whenever I feel there’s enough stuff piled up to? Though I plan to start adding more often than that from now on - I don’t really have anything for momo and kuroo to add on rb that isn’t already there, but as soon as I’ll have more of either of them I’ll remember to put them up! Thank you so so much for the interest in buying from me!!

Anon said: Ok but that Kirishima art was absolutely amazing

THANK YOU!!!!! 

Anon said: Hi! First I really really love your art and I make this little muffed scream every time I see your stuff pop up on me feed. You’re amazing!! Second, can I ask how you do shadows? I can never make them look right or lay across my character correctly. Yours always look so amazing

Thank you!!!!!! I actually used to have that same problem with shadows? However much I kept track of where the lightsource was and the shapes I was working with it always looked wrong, somehow - the way I fixed it was by adding more shadows, actually. If you’ll pick any of my colored pieces you’ll see I don’t really put down lights all that often, which means the base color ends up being my light color too, and everything else is just shadows getting darker the further I go from where the light hits the object I’m shading - generally, I use a soft tool like a brush or a marker to very roughly put down where I want the shadows to go, and then using the same tool I smudge and darken it till it looks right to me. I can’t really explain it any better than this? But I have a small tutorial for how I do this in my art tips tag, if you wanna give it a look!

Anon said: I come back to look at your art almost every day, especially when I’m feeling down; so I’d just like to thank you for posting your beautiful art for all of us to experience. On behalf of all of your followers, Thank you! :,)))

Anon you’re gonna make me cryyyyy!!!!!! ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; thank you so so much, both for this ask and for liking my stuff to begin with! <3

Anon said: Your anatomy is so so so so good! And don’t even get me started on your colours! Perfection

GOSH I still have a long long way to go, but thank you so much for thinking so!!! It makes all the effort feel worth it! ( TT^TT)<3

Anon said: I love everything about ur art! from the sketches to the full colored pieces, it's the highlight of my week whenever you post! I was actually wondering where you get the ideas for clothes! I always see the variety and was wondering if you came up with them or are they from somewhere ^v^ keep up the amazing work!!

It’s a mixture of both, actually! I like to look at clothing, both irl (on people I see, or stuff in the shops I visit, or even pics and movies and tv shows!) and drawn too - in anime and illustrations and manga and cartoons! I look at them and try to remember how they’re made, and then when I draw I think about it all and come up with my own by mixing stuff I liked from all those things - unless I see a piece of clothing that’d work just right as it is on a character, in which case I just draw it either as best as I can from memory or, if I have it, using a ref! It’s one of the things I find the most fun when drawing, I’m glad to hear you like what I come up with!! Thank you so much!!!

Anon said: Thoughts on KiriTodo? Because I. Am. Hooked.

I like it!! I don’t actively ship it, since my only actual ship for Kirishima is kiribaku, but I like the look of him with todo, aesthetically, and their friendship is highly entertaining to me, which means their potential relationship in a romantic setting is too - and, as we’ve seen with my very random dip into the non-existent kirijiro fandom, that’s more than enough for me to decide maybe I’ll wanna go and draw for them, one of these days haha

Anon said: Haven't seen KiriSero or KamiSero Fusions yet! Got some ideas for those? (Filling out the Bakusquad pentagon XD)

I really never got around to drawing those, did I! That’s actually surprising, hadn’t you pointed that out I’d have never realized - I’m not doing fusions anymore right now, but maybe I could make an exception for these two............ if the inspiration strikes, why not!

Anon said: Did you see the newer bnha episodes?! Miritama made it feel like a shoujo... (In a good way)

THIS IS SO OLD OH GOD sorry I didn’t get around to answering this sooner!!! The miritama relationship is really wonderful, isn’t it? They make me cry so much, soft warm boys, so in love............. TT’’’TT <3<3<3

Anon said: This whole year has been a trainwreck for me and your blog was one of the few things that stayed constant, so thank you for being my favorite spot on the internet. Hope you keep drawing and I love your art so much!

AH, THANK YOU! I really really hope I’ll keep on drawing too!!! I’ll do my best 💪💪

Anon said: Some days I’ll just sit in bed at 2 am and be like “I need a hug” and then I read ur blog and it’s like a safe mental hug. So thanks for that.

That’s!!!!!!!!!! so sweet oh my god!!!!!!!!! ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; I’m so glad my stuff can make you feel warm like that, anon!! <3<3

Anon said: So it says you don't do requests in your faq does that include commissions as well

Not right now!! Maybe sometime at the beginning of next month, ✨Stay Tuned✨

Anon said: Hellooo hope you are having a good day. It's always so fun to scroll through your blogs and enjoy your art 💕💕 Idk if it's a little weird to ask but I also love your old aokaga art and I was wondering if you had any interest left in that fandom or would ever consider drawing for it again? xx

Gods, I really don’t know? It’s been so long since I’ve last engaged with anything related to knb........ I still do love the ship though, so, maybe? I really have no clue, I might though!! Thank you so much for liking even such old things from me!!!!

[choconanime]

💕💕Twisted Wonderland Au💕💕

Wanted to draw my favorite OCS in twisted now that I been slowly coming back to it hahaha reblog appreciated🥺but Anyways profile under just so i don't hog anyone screen LOLOLOL

*•°* Kanae🐶 *°•*

Year: 1 year

Dorm: stagrove (fandorm belonging to @prometheanglory )

Birthday: 05/04

Age: 18

Height: 190 cm/6.2 ft

Dominant hand: Right

Origin: ------

Club: Track and Field

Best subject: PE/ defense magic

Hobby: cooking and hiking

Bad with: studying, formalities, keeping her voice low

Favorite food: Anmitsu with a butt load of syrup but steak sandwich also good

Disliked food: none

Special skill: Can cook something out of anything

Special magic: intimidate

Will paralyze the target after a command or scream, however it works best with animal's than humans as duration for it is lesser especially if they see it coming.

Kanae comes from the big city,often she even forgets formalities and will call people by familiar tittles like: big bro,big sis,lil bro,etc even uncle when referring to teachers. Despite her lack of formalities she does her best to keep up with the other's.

*•*Iogyoku👑*•*

Year: Year 3

Dorm: Pomefiore

Birthday: 09/19

Age: 19

Height: 173 cm/5.8 ft

Dominant hand: Right

Origin: -------

Club: Band but rarely shows up

Best subject: Magical potions/swimming

Hobby: Partying, breaking the rules at this point, lazy-ing around at monstro cafe

Bad at: keeping up appearances

Favorite food: Chicken nuggets

Disliked food: Pork

Special skills: Good at bargaining

Special magic: n/a

Despite being in Pomefiore, Io is well know by many in her dorm to be the one of the popular slacker's that "ruin" the dorm image and yet despite the many naggings she had heard of Vil, that hasn't stop her from acting wild and free, wanting to prove Vil theirs beauty in even the most "wildest" of people.

π°*• Kinjo Ritsuki 🦊•*°π

Year: 2 year

Dorm: Ignihyde

Birthday: 05/31

Age: 18

Height: 152 cm/4.11 ft

Dominant: Right

Origin: Land of Woe

Club: Band but only appears using her fox robot

Best subject: Ancient cursed/conjuration/Magic analyst

Hobby: Magic music, playing video games, playing with her robot fox

Bad with: Crowded area's/Defense magic

Favorite food: Oatmeal cookie Ice cream sandwiches

Disliked food: Garlic

Special skill: Can figure out what song you most likely like by hearing a few examples.

Special magic: n/a

Even in her own dorm she's only been seen once or twice out of her room, at least physically...people only interact with her via her Robot fox, "Kiri" that's connected to her via magic technology. Is unknown why she never leaves but people assume is related to the first day she came to Night Raven.

_°-_-°Mari Adami🗒️°-_-°_

Year: 3 year

Dorm: Heartslabyul

Birthday: 08/23

Age: 19

Height: 160 cm/5.3 ft

Dominant: ambidextrous

Origin: Queendom of Roses

Club: Horse-Riding club

Best subject: Magic analysis| Biology| Practical Magic | Mathematics |art

Hobby: Writing events in her journal

Bad with: Unplanned situations

Favorite food: Cinnamon rolls with coffe

Disliked food: tea

Special skill: Finding lost things

Special magic: n/a

Adami is known for her rather plain life style,good grades and boring Sence of fashion yet despite all that she does enjoys competing with others and once she's serious there's no coming back from it. It's rumored she escapes at night time to party with a certain, popular slacker in Pomefiore but she hasn't been caught in the act so not many are sure if that's true.

Brr ik i put a few in magic subject but i just couldn't decide just one so take it as best->medium best clases

[deathbounded]

How the FUCK did I not realise you were vargorsol’s alt HFJSKKFNSNFND,,, call me a Margulis kinnie ig bc damn am I fucking blind

Due to some Personal History™️ I have with a very similar concept from an ANCIENT scrapped fic, I am kinda obsessed with Raisal’s whole Deal of. Yknow. Very Specific Parental Baggage©️. Ballas doing the old “bippity bild I am going to abandon my biological child”. The ✨Trauma✨. You know how it is

In other words want to learn more about her >:((( give us the lore. go ABSOLUTELY nuts if you feel like it I will be patiently waiting!! oc infodumps my beloved <3 (speaking of which i will get round to talking abt my little guys in response to that one ask u sent… some day… maybe……)

hehe this ask made me so happy when i saw it, thank you for asking about raisal! i appreciate it a lot C: 💜 (if you also have ballas/margulis child, they should meet up and unionize against ballas to pay for their therapy or something idk)

there she is!

anyways. raisal lore dump incoming.

[cw: implied child neglect and emotional abuse]

raisal was unplanned and lived primarily with margulis given a) the vague covertness of margulis and ballas's relationship and b) ballas's general disinterest in children (he was mostly just awkward around her and somewhat (very) blatantly jealous over the attention she got from margulis).

when the zariman children were recovered and margulis's attention diverts nearly wholly to them, raisal wasn't unused to being left on her own: margulis had always been busy with her archimedian duties and ballas is generally literal and emotional unavailable, so she spent a good amount of time on her own or with adults who don't care as much about her emotional. but raisal wasn't able to process well why margulis was spending so much more time at work especially with other children!! who she calls her children too!! "but i’m her only child!! >:OOO" and became resentful of the tenno for "stealing" margulis's attention away from her.

...in her defense she was like 6; she's doing her best.

rather than bringing this up - cause, y’know, orokin are culturally emotionally repressed - she thinks “the only way to spend time with my mother is if i play into the things she cares about” and never brings anything up, so margulis didn't really know about this issue (but if she did she’d totally 100% do something to address it).

enjoy the one scrap of raisal writing i have atm <;:)

when margulis is executed for trying to protect the tenno, it just cements this resentment (raisal knows that margulis doesn’t blame the tenno for it; she wouldn’t want her to either. yet she does, and she feels guilt for it), and she’s very, very repressed about it.

rather than abandoning her after margulis's execution, ballas takes raisal in out of a "this is the last piece of margulis i have i have to make sure Nothing Bad Happens To It" mindset (raisal looks very similar to margulis). which uh. doesn’t lead to a great parenting style; he's both overprotective and emotionally distant, which is a rough time for anyone, especially a child! basically any time he realizes he *gasp* cares for his literal child, he slams the breaks and immediately backpedals.

he also weaponizes raisal's resentment towards the tenno and her attachment to margulis in order to manipulate her into cooperating with his revenge plans, part of it involving contributing to her isolation from others (i say contributes because the stigma of having a parent executed by the jade light and your guardian being an executor makes most people wary to interact with you in the first place), so she's pretty dependent on ballas. plus, since he's one of the executors, so she never even considers running away.

ballas pushes her to become an archimedean, partially to have an insider on the archimedeans and partially so he can influence what gets designed. she later gets the "honor" of having access to continuity - which she drags her feet over as long as she can. so I guess she is blueish?? (i am not a fan of this and neither is she) she does not have a long are Because I Said So. realistically? something along the lines of "i look like margulis who the tenno are attached to, therefore maintaining the resemblance as much as possible will be of great...diplomatic advantage." i also headcanon that once a yuvan is chosen they then modify them to resemble their old body (when it was younger ofc) as much or as little as they want. which is my explanation as to why she still retails her resemblance to margulis.

i'm...not actually sure what raisal's research focus would be, but i do know she has expertise in transference research, infestation, and sentients. she has a pressure to excel at anything she picks up though, largely from orokin societal pressure.

her timeline during the old war is pretty much one big shrug aside from this, but at some point raisal researches into hybridizing sentient and infestation technologies (among other things), and starts prototyping a vessel capable for withstanding long-term deep void exposures (with the vague intention of craft a vessel capable of enduring a trip to a far-away system, not necessarily tau).

when the collapse hits, ballas takes her to this spacecraft and locks her in it in the void (it has a reliquary drive; he fucked with it & the ship's cephalon's precepts so the ship is virtually immobile) and from there she's kept on an information diet by ballas - basically she has no idea what's going on in the origin system other than what he tells her (unreliable source time, baby!).

she always had some amount of doubt regarding ballas's actions, doubts that were drawn into stark relief when he brainwashed natah which developed into feeling a need to do reparations for them. during her time trapped in the void she starts researching a transference bolt modification that could restore some semblance of sentience to a warframe. she's never able to quite verify its success though, given her limited resource access.

following this point, i have two main timelines for her:

one where she takes the lotus's place as guide/leader to the tenno, post apostasy prologue (the margulis constant)

in the other, she crosses over into the canon timeline after shit goes sideways in her own (the fold invariant) fun fact: when i was explaining a certain aspect of it to my friend, it made them remark “this fandom seems ridiculously mean to its characters” which. yeah.

there's also a secret third timeline where ballas's an actually good parent a la tiny-chubby-bird's fic but uh. tbh i haven't though about this much. maybe i should.

her attitude towards the tenno throughout all timelines goes from a wary, holding them at arm's length one to an *exasperated sigh in older sibling* one. they also keep giving her harrow chassis blueprints. why do you keep giving me these please i can't make any research progress if you keep only giving me harrow chassis blueprints.

anyways that's the gist of the raisal lore atm. there's definitely a lot that needs to be fleshed out more, especially timeline/old war era wise, but yeah!! feel free to ask any questions!! :D also here is her playlist if feel so inclined to peruse.

name trivia: "raisal" is from the yiddish name raisel, which is in turn derived from the yiddish word for rose! this was to parallel margulis being from a jewish word for "pearl." i wanted a name with flower meaning in reference to the lotus. i don't know where ballas's name is from, the closest i ever got was an austronesian word for "revenge" which. hm!

[oppabimbab]

hottest apology | kim taehyung

genre: smut, slight fluff

starring: taehyung x reader

synopsis: you made him mad so you gave him the hottest apology ever.

words: 2,730 words

tags: jealousy, submissive reader, insecurity, daddy!kinks, handjob, bl*w!job, boob!fuck, fingering, slight dom taehyung, cl*t tease,

side notes: it’s been 3 months since i wrote, holy shit sorry if it’s bad, i have lost my writing skills lol and also its taehyung ff again bc im always obsessed with him bye.

**

It’s been 5 days since Taehyung have talked to you. Exactly 5 days since both of you got into a pretty serious and heated argument. 5 days is quite long for someone like him to be this mad. Well, your boyfriend has been that gentle, calm and observant person that he always be the one who breaks the silence first but it’s different now.

You’re not sure if the thing really triggered him this much to the point it’s making him to do something he never did before—leaving the house. All because of one thing he seems to hate the most.

“Oh my god, Taehyung. Stop being a kid. He just wanted my help, that’s all?” you frowned at him while holding the tone in your voice. You knew he hate it when you sound annoyed and pissed when talking to him.

Taehyung’s jaw was clenched even more at your words as he leaned against the wall with crossed arms. He probably has been waiting you to come home since forever.

“Really? I didn’t know keeping him company at the coffee shop is one of the ways of ‘helping’ him. What did you guys do?” His deep eyes were piercing into yours and swear to God, it gave butterflies to your system. Let alone his croaky voice that filled the room—making your heart raced for no reason. That was hot. Fuck yeah, not a good time to be horny.

You adjusted your position at the bedroom door—exchanging eye contacts with your boyfriend who seemed to be really mad but it didn’t come to your mind that he is actually being serious. Probably he was just moody that you came back late. You tried to convince yourself.

“He was alone and stressed so I kept him company for a while. Nothing much, baby. He is nothing to me. We did nothing.Seriously,” you spoke, defensively even deep inside, you were tired to death. All you wanted was to sleep and For God’s sake, your quick coffee sessions with Seonghwa was random. He just happened to be in the same shop with you. Why did Taehyung think you want to let him get into your panties? Exaggerating.

“Did you even tell me before you met him?”

“No? Because it’s unplanned?”

Just as you thought Taehyung would let this topic go, he looked even madder. His gaze was flamed in fire, his body was tensed and stiffed just like the prominent veins along his neck. He has this habit where he would roll up the shirt sleeves and ruffle his hair when he is mad. Silence filled the room as both of you didn’t say anything.

“I thought I said I hate him. I hate to see you with him. I just don’t want to see you with him. isn’t that clear to you?,” his voice was too low and it made him sound very dominant. Fuck, something was twirling in your stomach.

You jaw was dropped.

“Taehyung! He’s just fr-“

“Who cares? You’re mine. Fucking mine and I don’t like sharing. I never fucking do. I thought you knew that huh?” he stared at you with his flaming eyes and raised eyebrows while chewing his mouth. If stare could stab people, you could die by now. Your mouth felt dry as you’ve lost words to say. Taehyung has never been this mad before.

You supressed a small chuckle to ease the tension.

“Taehyung, are you jealous?”

But what a wrong move. He left the house.

Now, he is giving you the coldest treatment ever. He don’t kiss you, call you pet names, make love to you like he always did or even look at you more than 10 seconds. You thought he would only act up like this for few days but now, it almost been a week. And as ego as you’re, you don’t even start to make up even deep inside, you pretty much understand why he did this.

Taehyung has always been such a protective boyfriend. He made it clear he dislikes Seonghwa and you already promised him to stay away from the guy. You broke the promise and now you need to face the consequences. Swear to God, these 5 days were killing you inside. You missed him so much.

His kiss, his touch, his morning voice, his jokes but why can’t you face him and say sorry? Is it because it’s always him to fix the relationship first? Is it because it’s always him to come to you and say sorry first?

You don’t realise that until one night. One bloody night when you realised that he is only yours and you hate sharing. Your whole body is filled with jealousy and greed when you are left alone at your table in his stupid company dinner as Taehyung is surrounded by so many people, who probably have been waiting for him.

You know he is popular for his kind personality and looks since he composes music for these popular people but you don’t know he is this popular. A sudden jealousy and insecurity hit you like a truck when you finally realised that you’ve taken him for granted after all these while. He chose you over these people yet you did the thing he hated the most.

He will make sure you know how much he loves you—being that home you always go back to when things got hard, let alone showering you with the honesty and security you deserve in this relationship. Few seconds in, you just figured it out—he never did something that hurts you to the point you wanted to leave the house. But you did that to him. You broke this good guy’s heart.

From afar, he’s definitely look good with someone else other than you and it’s giving you an unfamiliar pain in the chest. This fight is longest and the hardest fight you ever had with him and it hurts you even more when his eyes catch yours in the middle of crowded party

but, he looked away.

**

The house feels dead. It feels gloomy and sad when both of you just got home from the party and he didn’t even want to say anything as he goes to the bedroom. Not even a glance. Fucking hell, it drives you crazy.

By the time you got in the room, he just come out from the toilet—freshly bathed. The sweet scent from the shampoo and soaps fills your sense with his naked body in the sight. There is nothing coming out from your mouth as you notice him looking away from your gaze. He feels distant and cold.

“Baby,” after a while, you speak out.

No answer.

“I’m sorry,”

Taehyung looks unbothered when he keeps drying his wet hair with the small towel with his back facing you. Your heart hurts a lot.

“I’m so sorry, I miss you. Talk to me,” tears start to pool in your eyes when you can’t hold the pain of being ignored by a man whom you loved the most. Did he stop loving you? Did he find someone else?

Few steps are taken before you slowly wrap your arms around his torso from behind—hugging him tight as you bury your face on his back. He is very tall and well-built that he makes you feel safe and sound.

Taehyung doesn’t move or push you away—rather than hugging you back, he just let you do whatever you want to do. Good thing because you know what you want to do.

Slowly, you pull away from him and come to face him. You don’t have the courage to look at him in the eyes, making you to come closer to him before kissing his bare chest. Kissing him gives you such serotonin that nothing can explain. It makes you happy and high to the point you want to have all of him for yourself only. Every inches of him.

His gaze—you can feel it. He is looking down at you but the courage to look at him has gone when you know how greedy you are when it comes to him. But you did him wrong. How do you fix this?

The tension fills the room before you finally make some move by tracing your fingers on his torso—admiring his lines with this familiar knot in your stomach. His wet and naked body sting your lower abdomen—making your panty sticky wet. Fuck, you want him. In you. Now.

“Hm?” a husky hum leaves his mouth right after you push him on the bed. He is clearly confused at your sudden gesture but for some reason, he is anticipating it—which brings you another butterflies. He stares at you while biting his lower lip with a small smile appears in the corner of his lips. This guy is fucking hot.

Ignoring him, you get to your knees in front him as he sits on the edge of the bed—with your face only few inches away from his crotch before you bring your hand on the fold of the towel that has been covering his lower body.

“What are you doing?” he says with a small playful smile across the lips, sounded confused as ever. You look at him with a needy eyes.

“Apologize,” you mumble before looking back down to his crotch. This time, it wasn’t covered anymore. It’s huge, hard, raw and delicious—you can’t help but leaning closer as you take him fully into your mouth. A soft whimper leaves his mouth at the sudden warmth.

With your might, you take his length into your mouth until it completely disappear from the sight while your small hand rubbing around his cock. Your head is bobbing up and down—licking and circling every veins around the cock to the head to taste the salty pre-cum that leaves his tip. You moan-- clenching your pussy at the feels. He’s tasted so good, making you moan. A very needy one. You spread his legs before you place one of your hands on his firm thigh to give it a soft rub. He moans even louder. What a sound.

The knot and dripping juice from your pussy keeps making you crazy to the point you wanna beg at him to fuck you right now. You don’t care anymore. It’s been 5 days.

“Mmmm, ahh,” the erotic moan fills the room along with the wet slurping sound coming from your mouth. Taking a quick glance at him with your half-closed eyes, you find him staring down at you with a clenched jaw. His eyes has darkened in desire and lust, body got tensed up and raspy grunts keep escaping his mouth. The eye contacts—oh God, this is sexy. He is feeling good. It drives you crazy.

You suck him even harder—going up and down even faster as his cock twitches every time you lick it. He lifts his hip to thrust even deeper to your throat, making you gurgle around his cock head. You can feel he’s coming as it hardened in your mouth but before he could cum on your face, you immediately stop—making him groan in frustrations. A small smile escape your lips as you let the wet saliva drips to your neck. What a messy blow job but for some reason, this is making your pussy stings in cum.

Without taking your time, you take off your short dress—unclasp the bra around your breasts before you place his cock between them. The next thing, you find yourself rubbing your boobs around his length as he grabs your hair to make you go faster.

Taehyung grunts even louder, moaning to the air at the pleasure. He closes his eyes while groaning like a tiger.

“Ah! Mmm, Your cock feels nice, baby,” you moan as you quicken the pace.

“Oh Fucckk, yeah, yeah like that,” he moans as he boob-fucking you. His breath has hitched and trembling before you could feel how hardened he has become.

“Baby...Ahh! I’m....,” you moan.

“I’m so sorry. Forgive me. I miss you,” you say while moaning loud,looking up to his eyes as you pump harder around his huge cock while licking the tip—begging like a needy puppy. Both you and him are humping on each other—probably he is as desperate as you are. Eyes to eyes. Yes, you’re desperate for him. Only him.

“Baby, cum on my face, let me taste you,” you beg before sticking your tongue out—waiting for him to pump his seed all over your face. You know he loves this shit. It’s his favourite kink.

Taehyung grunts, standing up on his feet, pumping his cock for few more times before the white cum plasters all over your face as it keeps coming from the tip. In just few seconds, you swallow the bitter-salty cum greedily, licking every part of them while staring at Taehyung, who is breathing heavily on the bed. He stares at you for few second before running a hand in his messy hair while chuckling playfully.

“Come here,” without letting you calm down, he pulls you closer to him before pinning you down to the bed as he crawls on top of your naked body.

“That was the hottest apology I’ve ever got,” he chuckles while breathing hard as he traces his finger on your torso to your lower abdomen. Soft whimpers leaves your mouth, it makes him chuckle even more.

“Is it accepted yet?” you ask in breathy voice. He frowns while biting down his lower lips.

“I don’t think so. I need more,” he says, holding a smile.

You look at him. He is fucking handsome with those deep eyes, boyish smile. God, you wish he fucks you everyday. He’s look delicious. Especially those lips.

Can’t wait any longer, you take his face in your hands, you pull him for the deepest kiss, sucking his mouth, begging for his touch. He grunts in the kiss—sucking your tongue, biting your lip almost to stain it with blood.

“Fuck me. Fuck me now, Taehyung,” you whimper in the horniest way ever. Whatever he does, he needs to fuck you now.

“I’m still mad at you,” he grunts before he starts rubbing your clit. You yelp in pleasure.

“I don’t care. Fuck me, daddy,”

Taehyung smiles, satisfied. Probably happy that you become this submissive only for him.

“Sure, let’s remind you how good my fingers are inside your damn pussy” he says as he put 2 fingers inside you without warning—making your body jerks in surprise. He starts thrusting his long and thick fingers inside you, twirling and pinching every part of your pussy—making your body bounce every time he fuck your pussy.

A gush of air leaves your lungs as you scream out loud, while you fist in his damp fluffy hair, pulling his face closer to you. Taehyung keeps fingering fuck you while staring down to see how messed up he has made you become. He chuckles and quicken the pace every time you moan his name—telling him to never stop.

“Why? You like it huh?” he hums, rubbing your clit with his thumb while thrusting another 2 finger inside. You see nothing but stars. Moan and moan.

Arched back, rolled eyes, curled toes.

“Ah~~~~Mmm,mmm,” you bite the lower lip to hold the sound. You’re very sure the neighbour know you’re getting fucked tonight.

“I’m coming. Mmm baby, i’m—Ah!”

“Too soon,” Taehyung replies before quicken the pace. The splashing and wet sound from the pussy juice makes his cock hardened as it rubs your inner thigh when he moves. You cry—holding around his arms for support as you’re reaching your climax.

The next second,you cum around his fingers. Your whole body flinches in pleasure, hitched breath fills the space as he pulls his wet fingers out of your pussy and with your own eyes, you saw him licking the juice while staring down at you.

He licks every parts of the fingers without looking away from your exhausted eyes. Your jaw almost dropped when he smiles at you. Holy shit, that is fucking hot. This guy is sickly hot. You don’t understand.

He didn’t stop there.

“Bear yourself, baby. I’m going to fuck you really hard that you know how I fucking despise sharing what’s mine,” Taehyung says as he positions his cock on your entrance while spreading your legs around his waist. Wide, just for him.

What a long night but you’re not complaining. Not at all.

**

Let me know your feedbacks! XOXO

[amiedala]

SOMETHING DEEPER

CHAPTER 3: Without Armor

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: sexual content, violence

SUMMARY: “You’re an excellent leader. Tell me what to do.”

“Nova—”

“Prove it,” she whispers, her voice barely air. Her blood is pumping so heavily in her ears that her own words sound distorted, like they’re under a waterfall. “Show me you’re a good leader. Because I believe you are, but I know you have to prove it to believe it.”

“This isn’t what this place was made for.”

Nova stops, her forehead pressed against his. Everything in this strange arena is quiet except for their breathing, an urgent pulsing in the cold, dark night. “So fighting is sacred to Mandalorians,” she breathes, feeling the airlocks that keep Din’s helmet secure around his face hiss. He doesn’t move, letting her lift off his helmet, to have him without his armor. “You’re sacred to me. Every inch of you.”

If you're a newcomer, my fic "Something More" is the first installment of this story! <3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hello hello my friends!!! this is where i offer a deep, massive apology for Chapter 3 coming out a week later than it was supposed to. i was traveling to visit my best friend who lives states away, then my family had a slew of emergencies and crises, then i was too drained with a flareup of pain to write a single word. writing SD is literally my happy place, and being forced to take an unplanned break was painful and hard. this chapter isn't as long as i wanted it to be (i'm so sorry for that as well!!!) but i think it's as fleshed out as i can get it, because, as usual, Big Things Are Coming. thank you so so much for being patient with me in my hasty, largely unexplained absence, and i hope you LOVE this week's chapter!! <3

*

Hoth really shouldn’t feel warm and welcoming. The climate is horrible, temperatures that drop to dangerous lows, the ice that breaks and shifts and opens into the gaping maw of the planet’s icy interior. It’s a wasteland, white-blind and horrible, but the small Rebel base located in the heart of the planet is enough to keep Nova’s heart anchored here, even when she’s parsecs away.

Landing Kicker isn’t an issue. The second they descend onto the landing pad, a small crew of the mechanics Nova spent most of her brief stint here with racing towards the underbelly. Nova waves at them, pointing over the noise at the makeshift patch on the mainline of fuel, and they nod, enclosing on the issue in a matter of seconds.

Din’s tense. Nova’s eyes roam over the silhouette of his impressive, taut body, knowing that most of what’s underneath the beskar is in fighting mode, ready to expel energy like a hurricane whenever he faces the opposition. He tilts the visor over at her, and Nova offers a tiny smile, her heart kicking an arrhythmic beat against her chest. She’s trying her best to not look relieved that she’s here and not on Mandalore, but she knows she’s a horrible liar and that her body is full of betrayal. When the airlock doors hiss open and the two of them are beckoned into the insulated hollow of the Rebel base, Wedge is there waiting. Behind him, like a silent sentinel, stands Bo-Katan, her owl-painted blue helmet obscuring the expression on her face.

“Rebel girl,” Wedge calls, and something cold in Nova’s heart thaws. His arms are strong and purposeful, and he envelops Din’s hand with that same warmth and vigor, nodding at him. Bo-Katan doesn’t move an inch, her pristine hands folded behind her back, every muscle in her body the same kind of tight and purposeful as Din’s are, Mandalorian strong. “Welcome back.”

“It’s—” Nova inhales, eyes flicking, uncertain, over at Bo-Katan, “good…to be back. I wish it was under better circumstances, but—”

“You’re Andromeda Maluev,” Bo-Katan interrupts, and the mention of her old name sends a spike straight through Nova’s chest, puncturing on scar tissue that’s never fully healed. “Aren’t you?”

Nova swallows, running her tongue over her bottom lip. “I was,” she answers, finally, voice far away and small. “Why do you ask?”

Bo-Katan gestures with her head, a tiny movement, and then she’s turning on her beskar heel to move towards the war room. Silently, Nova and Din follow behind her and Wedge, Nova’s heart still hammering, erratic. The space is smaller than the giant one on Mandalore, but because it’s empty except for the four of them, it seems massive. Dangerous. Lonely.

Nova steps up to the holotable, twisting her tongue behind her teeth, trying to remain calm. The mention of her old name, twice in less than a week, feels like shrapnel. It reminds her of everything she’s been running from for a decade—her parents’ deaths, Jacterr Calican, the Empire, the resurrected evil in the First Order—and it sits sourly in her stomach as Bo-Katan presses buttons on the holotable. When the image of Nova comes up—so much younger than she feels now, dark hair long against her back, her features glitched and glittering in the hologram projected towards the ceiling—she winces at it. Beneath her portrait, her name is written in Basic: ANDROMEDA MALUEV. AGE: 26. CRIMES: EVADING CAPTURE, MURDER, AIDING AND ABETTING CRIMINALS. It’s bold and terrifying and Nova can’t look away. The word MURDER, screaming at her in capital letters, is too much to bear. She swallows, throat dry, blood rushing in her ears. It’s such a dangerous, horrible thing that it takes Nova a minute to read anything beneath the portrait of a girl she hasn’t been in years, but when she finally gets past the roadblock—MURDER, MURDER, MURDER—she sees a price on her head.

“Five million credits?” she asks, her voice rocketing through three octaves in her disbelief. The word credits cracks down the middle, incredulous. She presses a hand to her mouth, flattening her fingers flush against her face, trying to steady herself. “Why—why is the bounty so high?”

“That’s not from the First Order,” Wedge starts, gently, but he’s interrupted by Bo-Katan’s knife of an arm, cutting up between him and Nova. She jabs a long, gloved finger at the script underneath Nova’s image and her bounty, and Nova blinks hard, trying to get her brain to focus on what the words say.

“Novalise,” Bo-Katan says, her voice clipped, “you’re wanted alive or dead. Do you see that?” She enunciates her point with her finger again, stabbing it on the shimmering blue words reflected in front of them. “This is from the fucking Guild.”

“Easy,” Din cuts in, the word hard in the air. He steps forward, knocking Bo-Katan’s angry hand out of where it’s shaking in Nova’s face. “Take it the fuck down, Bo-Katan, or I will do it for you.”

“The—Guild?” Nova asks, trying to make all of the moving parts fit right in her brain. “I—I don’t understand. The Bounty Hunters’ Guild? The one that Greef Karga runs? I—I’m wanted? Why?”

“You’re not,” Din interrupts, his voice clipped and intense. Nova shuffles to the side as Din steps towards the holotable, magnifying the strange text. “It’s not Karga’s Guild. And you,” he adds, shoulders tossed back, facing Bo-Katan, “had no right to yell at her with those theatrics. Save that for the enemy.”

Nova can’t see Bo-Katan’s face, hidden under the blue beskar of her helmet, but she knows that Bo-Katan is glaring daggers at the both of them. Nova swallows again, trying to keep her heart rate steady, her racing mind calm, but she just keeps seeing the word MURDER flash before her eyes. Din’s saying something else, and she can’t concentrate, turning her body away from the three of them, staring off at the ice that makes up every corner of this room, clear and dangerous. She closes her eyes—MURDER, MURDER, MURDER—and opens them again, just as rapidly.

Inhaling shakily, Nova starts counting the deaths she’s been responsible for on her long, shaking fingers. Her skin, usually so warm and radiant, is fallow and pallid in the low light. Her thumb sticks up first, wearing Jacterr’s name. It wasn’t intentional, she tries to console herself, but her hands are still quivering. It was an accident. She didn’t mean for the lightsaber to ignite. She didn’t even know she had the power to do that, let alone use it as a weapon. It was self-defense, killing him before he had the chance to kill her. And then there were all of the faceless troopers in the TIE fighters she shot at when trying to get out alive. For years, hordes of them, shooting back at them before they had the chance to blow her to smithereens or capture her for something worse. You’ve never shot first, Nova tries to reason with herself, eyes focused on the outline of her boots, old and worn, warm against the icy floor of the room she’s standing in. It was all self-defense.

Except, that tiny little voice in the back of her mind whispers, insidious and awful, you killed Xi’an all on your own. Nova’s heart hangs heavy in her chest, like it’s on trial. She tries to inhale, but there’s no air in this ridiculous ice block of a room, and everything is purple and wounded, the imprint of Xi’an’s cold, dead body embedded on the back of her eyelids. That could be argued as self-defense, too, Nova tries to rationalize, but the reminder of the bullet that hit her wicked body head-on is still so horrible in her head. Logically, Nova knows that the only reason that she shot and killed Xi’an was because Din would have died if it weren’t for that bullet, and that Xi’an hurt her husband in ways she’d never felt fully comfortable asking about, but it’s still a dead body on her hands. Her gorgeous, terrible, radiant, shaking hands.

“I g—I gotta go,” Nova mumbles, and then her feet are carrying her out of the war room, into the hallway. They’ve put up more insulation since the time she lived here for a few weeks, when Din and Grogu left her and the world stopped turning, but the recognition of it barely registers in Nova’s mind as she sprints through the empty hallways, picking up her feet so that they don’t tangle in the loose generator wires curled across the floor. It only takes a few more turns, and then she’s through the airlock, back out into the frozen climate of Hoth’s exterior, her heart hammering something horrible, her pulse erratic, her blood pressure high and dangerous. Slowly, she sinks onto the frozen ground, right outside of the door, pressing her bare hands into the snow, trying to calm anything back to its usual resting place.

It’s freezing out here. Nova’s still in her outfit from Ahch-To, and even though her pants are lightweight and the cold cuts straight through, she’s not getting wet from the snow. Her upper body is slightly warmer, fabric of her shirt protective, the shawl wound tightly over her shoulders, flapping slightly in the wind.

“Nova,” a voice behind her cuts through the silence, and Nova turns at the sound of her name, breath stuck somewhere between her chest and her mouth. Din’s standing there, tall and stately. “Are you okay?” he asks, and the timbre of his voice makes it very clear that he knows full well that she’s not okay.

“Why?” she manages, and then she’s being hauled to her feet, Din’s gloved hands warm and steady around her waist. “Why is there a bounty on my head—alive or dead?” She blinks against a loose lock of hair blowing in her face, and before she can react to it, Din’s already tucking it gently behind her ear. “I thought the Order wanted me—”

“I don’t know,” Din interrupts gently. “I don’t know why you have any of these charges on your head, or why there’s a bounty at all. Gideon and everyone we’ve interacted with associated with the First Order always insisted that you would work for them, not that you were to be eliminated. I don’t know who put the charges out there, but we’re going to fix it. I’m never going to let anyone touch you.”

Nova looks straight up at the visor, swaying slightly in the frosty breeze. Her head hurts. Her scar aches. The pressure that’s constantly blossoming on her shoulder blades feels incredibly heavy, and even though the wind is frozen through, it makes her heart burn for Ahch-To—its gorgeous greenness, its holy ground—and Nova just stares at her own, unhinged reflection in Din’s helmet.

Her teeth press down onto her bottom lip before she can muster up the strength to speak. One of Din’s gloved hands is pressed protectively against the small of her back, and the other is holding her right cheek, a fortification, a promise. Nova looks desperately into the visor, trying to see straight through to Din’s brown eyes. Her voice is barely there when she’s able to talk. “How?”

Bo-Katan’s helmet is off by the time Nova feels stable enough to walk back inside. The airlock door hisses shut behind them, and Wedge is the one that Nova catches first. He’s outfitted in his regular orange jumpsuit, but the spark that usually burns behind his eyes is replaced by a sadness that Nova’s never seen before. He offers her a small smile, beckoning into the room, but she knows his mind is racing just as quickly as hers is, and when she looks at the holotable, the horrible image of her isn’t projected anymore. She inhales once, exhales, and tries to coax her heart back to a normal rhythm.

“Novalise—”

“It’s okay,” Nova whispers, nodding in Bo-Katan’s direction without looking at her. “You—you were right to call us here. I’m just…” she trails off, a small glint of light catching the stone on her ring finger, and she sighs. “I was taken by surprise. That was—I wasn’t expecting it. I know the First Order wants me. I know that my…powers, however mysterious as they are, make me valuable, and that makes me dangerous. But I don’t understand who wants me dead if it’s not the people we’ve been running from for the last year.”

Bo-Katan steps forward, uncrossing her lean, muscled arms. Silently, she pulls up the shimmering holograms again, but this time, Nova’s bounty doesn’t come up. It’s not anything recognizable until Bo-Katan points to a blue, rotating sphere. “I think,” she finally says, her tone unreadable, “that whoever put this bounty up on you wants your face out there in a bigger capacity than what it already is. You’re known in the Alliance, obviously, and now you’re known on Mandalore.” She stabs her finger at the hologram of the planet, rotating in silence. “And you’re wanted by the First Order, for whatever horrible plans they have next. But whoever this other force is—”

Nova holds up a hand, and, miraculously, Bo-Katan stops talking. “They want me to be a martyr,” she whispers, and all three of them look over at her with various expressions of disbelief. Din’s face is still hidden underneath his helmet, but Nova knows exactly what the contours of his features look like right now. Wedge’s worry lines deepen, dark and troubled. Bo-Katan raises one sculpted eyebrow, but her eyes focus on Nova’s like she knows it’s the truth.

“What did Luke say?” Wedge asks, finally.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant right now,” Bo-Katan interjects, but Wedge holds up a hand. It’s so sharp in contrast to his usual easygoing demeanor that her mouth snaps back shut.

“Nova’s a Jedi,” Wedge continues, eyes drifting to the lightsaber hanging off her belt. “Or at least she’s going to be,” he amends, “so she’s rare. One of three still existing that I know of, so that makes her incredibly important. Luke has been off on his own the last few years, trying to piece back the history of the Jedi that got lost or erased in the war. And that’s the Skywalker family lightsaber she has right there,” Wedge continues, nodding again at Nova’s belt loop, “so I know she went to go see him. What did he say, rebel girl?” he asks again, and Nova exhales lowly through the tiny gap of her open mouth.

“He knows something is coming,” Nova manages, finally. “He wanted—he wanted me to stay and train. He’s trying to locate all of the remaining Jedi in the galaxy, to try and rebuild what got destroyed. And,” she continues, exhaling, “he told me that what died may not stay dead.”

“Well,” Bo-Katan interjects, huffing, “that’s incredibly cryptic and entirely unhelpful.”

“Don’t start,” Wedge snaps, an edge to his voice. “Did he mean Gideon?”

Nova slowly shakes her head. It’s the truth, even though, to Bo-Katan’s point, Luke was being cryptic when he gave her that particularly sage warning. It’s not Gideon. Luke was talking about something deeper. “No,” she whispers, finally. “He meant someone—or something—much worse.”

Bo-Katan raises another eyebrow, a scorn so distasteful it makes waves on her face. “Yet another cryptic and unhelpful point, Novalise.”

Din steps forward before the expression on Nova’s face even changes. Bo-Katan Kryze doesn’t cower much, but she sure as hell shrinks underneath Din’s stance. He’s all anger, electric wires running currents throughout his entire tense body. Even the beskar pales in comparison to his rage. His hand slips to his own waistline, and Bo-Katan’s startled eyes glaze over the Darksaber before she backs down.

Nova has no idea how to diffuse this situation. Maybe Din’s right, maybe she is an expert at getting out of things, but the mountain crushing down on top of her shoulders just keeps growing bigger and bigger. Soon, it’ll be the size of Mandalore, and then she’ll have two planets to try and keep balanced on her already aching back. Nova rubs at the sore spot between her eyebrows, trying to worry out the knot that’s been growing in intensity there.

Bo-Katan’s talking again. Nova registers it, faintly, in the back of her mind. She’s long since grown tired of running, but right now, all her legs want to do is make a break for it. She’s exhausted and frozen in place and so unsteady on her feet. All Nova craves right now, this very second, is to lay back down in the piles of frigid snow outside and let it cool down her body right to the core. Din’s voice is angry, direct, curling in waves through the modulator, and when Nova whips back around to face the three of them, somehow, miraculously, they all grow silent.

“They want me to be a martyr,” Nova repeats, her voice barely anything in the chill of the chamber. Wedge’s thick eyebrow raises, his careful eyes searching over her face, trying to find her angle. “I’m not going to be. But I’m also not going to sit and wait on Mandalore for them to come find me, whoever they are. I’m not going to make it easy for them. Besides,” she finishes, eyes locking on Din’s, even under the obscurity of his helmet, “I’m a Rebel. Laying low isn’t in my blood.”

“Maybe,” Bo-Katan says, and there’s a razor’s edge to her already sharp voice. Something is wrong, Nova knows that, because underneath all of that icy venom, there’s a tremble that ricochets through her words. “But you’re forgetting something. You aren’t just a Rebel anymore. You’re the queen of a planet—”

“I’m a figurehead,” Nova spits back, exasperated. Maker above, her head is seriously killing her. Somewhere, distantly, she aches for the quiet crush of hyperspace, the dazzle, the glimmer, the flair of it all. Out there, running didn’t feel like running. And out there, home actually felt like home. “I’m nothing. I’m married to the Mand’alor, that’s it. I don’t rule. I don’t interact with anybody but the two of you. I wear Mandalore colored clothes, sometimes I’m in the war room, but most of the time, I’m staring up at the sky, and I can’t see the stars. I cannot see,” she continues, her voice unhinging into something desperate, “a single star from the planet’s surface. Bo-Katan, Mandalore is a ghost town. There’s only a handful of people left. Why did you battle Din for power in the first place,” she finishes, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, “if this was all that it was for?”

The room is silent. Nova can barely see straight, her eyes burning with the tears she’s trying to hold back. Bo-Katan looks like she’s been wounded—not pissed off, not royally wronged—wounded. Hurt. It’s written in the fracture lines of her face, and even though she’s been cold and hostile and a pain in everyone’s asses, Nova aches knowing she put them there. “Because,” Bo-Katan says, finally, and her voice isn’t icy anymore. It’s flat. Monotonous. “I love Mandalore. And I wanted something more.”

Nova inhales shakily, letting her shoulders round, clutching her arms around herself. The shawl wrapped around her upper body has fallen down to her shoulders, her loose hair flying in curls around her face. She’s exhausted. Behind her, she can feel Din stepping forward, his presence like a locus, an orbiting star. She staggers backward, mouth struck open, unable to conjure any words to fix this. “Bo-Katan—”

“Maybe I was wrong,” Bo-Katan interrupts, and her regular permafrost is back. “Maybe I was wrong about you. You’re right. You’re not a ruler. You’re a figurehead, Andromeda.” Nova recoils as if Bo-Katan slapped her. Slapping her would be better, actually, because the gut punch that comes with the stab of her old name is almost too much to bear. “And you’re sure as hell not a Mandalorian.”

Nova closes her eyes at the impact, but Din shoves his body forward, the whoosh of the Darksaber igniting in his hand before Nova can react. When she finally opens them, Din is standing like the warrior he is, like the bounty hunter he used to be. The horrible, flickering blade is up in front of Bo-Katan, an inch from her throat.

“I agreed to do this job because you insisted. I only promised to follow through if you were in my corner.” Din’s hand doesn’t waver once. Nova watches, horrified, as the terrible blade crackles and hisses in the low, cold light. “You intentionally disrespecting my wife is the opposite of being in my corner. If you ever,” he continues, and Nova can hear the grit of his teeth through the modulator, “use that name to refer to her again, those words will be your last. Do you understand me?”

Bo-Katan stares up at him, all malice. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Believe me,” Din spits, voice even and dangerous, “you haven’t been burned by me yet.”

Finally, she steps down, jutting her chin downward in a very reluctant nod. “Maybe you’re not a Mandalorian,” she concedes, staring back at Nova. Nova’s frozen to the spot, arms hugged tightly against her chest, knees shaking from the proverbial impact, “but Mandalore is still your home. For now, at least. And until we figure out who’s after you, that’s where you’ll stay. No Rebel missions. No alone time out in the stars.” She stares up at Din. “You wanted me in your corner? Fine. But your corner is on Mandalore, and Mandalore only.”

“I can’t do that,” Nova manages, quietly, her teeth aching in her mouth. “I need to train, Bo-Katan, I—I need to go see Grogu, I’m a commander in the Alliance, I cannot be grounded on a planet indefinitely, not with the entire galaxy on the brink of another war, not while there are two groups of people who want me dead or to be their slave—”

“Your home,” Bo-Katan interjects, her eyes dangerous behind her solid voice, “is on Mandalore now. What better place to protect you than a planet full of born and bred warriors?”

Nova’s heart is in her throat. It aches, pulsing and twisting and waning, like she has a knife lodged in her esophagus. “I can’t stay there indefinitely, I—I’m a Jedi—”

“No,” Bo-Katan interrupts again, “you are not. Not yet, and not until we figure out what danger the Order and these bounty hunters are to the rules of Mandalore. Besides,” she tacks on, leaning back on her heels, “Mandalorians and Jedi do not get along.” Her glance that flickers over to Din’s intimidating, awful silhouette, the Darksaber a ruthless weapon in his capable hands, is the only thing that gives away all the fear she’s tucked away under all that venom.

“Ahsoka Tano,” Nova manages, and something painful runs through the hard lines on Bo-Katan’s face. “You led us to Ahsoka. So no matter what you’re telling us right now, I know that you get along with at least one Jedi better than you think.”

Bo-Katan stares back at her. For a horrible beat, nobody breathes. Nova’s almost forgotten Wedge is still in the room until he lets out a quiet, exhausted sigh. “We’re going back to Mandalore. Wedge will run the Rebel operation from here, with people who aren’t responsible for a planet and the next collective fight of the galaxy. You leave Mandalore,” she says, and this time her gaze is trained expertly on Din’s visor, “you’re on your own.”

“Stop,” Wedge says, finally, and the singular word shatters through the tension, bringing everything down to the icy floor in one fell swoop. “Stop it. You,” he says, pointing at Bo-Katan, “were in here less than a month ago talking about unity, wanting to build something better, to protect the galaxy. I never thought we’d be close friends, Bo-Katan, but I at least thought you were on our side.” He lets the intention hang there, before turning to Din. “You are an incredible warrior, Din. I think Nova was right about you being a good leader. I think you have great potential. But I’ve seen power easily go sideways, and if you keep fighting against your own, you’re going to end up in another war. And you,” he enunciates heavily, turning on Nova, “you’re the best person I know. Kindest heart I’ve ever seen, except maybe for Luke. You’re an incredible pilot, a fantastic Rebel, and I don’t doubt for a second that you can save the galaxy from whatever evil it brings. But you’re not immortal, Nova. You’re not a saint, or a god, or anything bigger than a human being. Bo-Katan is right about one thing, and that’s you being in danger. They want you to be a martyr? Don’t let them make that a reality.” He pauses, and there’s something ancient in his eyes. “Go back to Mandalore. Work with each other, in whatever capacity that means. And when the three of you realize that we’re all in this together, no matter what threat we’re facing next, then you get to call the shots again.” He lets that hang in the air too, and it’s so heavy with genuine care, Nova’ heart breaks over itself again. “And I don’t make a habit of saying this, but may the Force be with us all.” His gaze roams over the three of them again, and Nova swallows, nodding against Wedge’s words. “We’re certainly going to need it.”

Mandalore is deadly and quiet.

It doesn’t welcome the three of them back in open arms. Bo-Katan’s ship is so much sleeker than Kicker, but Nova revels in the groan and tumble her starfighter makes when it touches down on cool, ashy earth. Her teeth are still shaking in her mouth. She has a headache, one she can feel in her jaw, right down to the bone. No one has spoken since Wedge gave his rebel rousing speech back on Hoth, and Nova knows that nothing she can manage can top that one. She’s silent in her flying, her disembarking. Slowly, she and Din trail Bo-Katan up the marble steps of the palace, and Nova can barely remember to offer her usual smile at the guards before the tall, impressive doors snap shut.

“I meant what I said,” Bo-Katan offers, finally, and there’s a wicked set in her jaw. “I can’t protect you out there. Mandalore is my home. I’m not abandoning this planet to run after the two of you and your masochistic need to save the galaxy. It’s been through enough, and I’m not going to let either of you ruin that. I meant it.”

Nova stares at her. She wants to snap back, to repeat what Wedge said, to shake some sense into Bo-Katan’s tense shoulders, but she doesn’t. She left all of her vitriol and fire back on Hoth, and she’s so incredibly tired. It’s nearly impossible to remember that DIn only took the throne a little over two weeks ago, that the ragtag group of their collected rebel fighters seemed so confident that they could stop the First Order, take down the evil lurking there, and restore peace to the galaxy. “So did I,” Nova whispers, finally, and Bo-Katan blinks uncharacteristically, a tiny slip in her usual armor before she opens her mouth again.

“We’ll talk more about this tomorrow,” Bo-Katan allows, and then she turns on her beskar heel and walks off somewhere in the dark haunt of the castle, her steps receding into nothing but dread.

Nova’s scar hurts. These days, it always seems to hurt, this horrible sucking wound that still aches, an aftershock of a trauma long gone. She sighs, long and heavy, wanting to sink into bed for a day or two and sleep all this responsibility off. She wants to be back up there in the stars, moving from planet to planet with purpose. She wants to use the lightsaber hanging from her belt. She wants to hug Grogu to her chest, to feel his tiny green body give off that special kind of warmth. She wants to lay with Din without armor, the rest of the world falling away.

When she finally manages to pull her heavy head up, Din is staring at Nova in the silence. There’s only a small strike of moonlight cutting across the strange, blue floor. He’s still wearing his helmet, but she can practically cut straight through the shield by the way she can feel his eyes piercing hers. This aches, too, such small hurts that accumulate across the map of her body.

“Come with me,” he says, finally, and when he reaches out his familiar, steady hand, she takes it.

It’s quiet in the palace, as per usual, but something about the moon striking through the windows as they move through the empty halls feels loud and haunting. Quietly, Din and Nova walk, hand in hand, past the throne room, past the staircase that leads to their massive bedroom, into the maze of corridors in the yawning belly of the beast. The amphitheatre is massive, something holy in its own right. Mandalorians treat battle like it’s divine, and the giant stadium built into their palace is made of marble and blue stone, the sky open and glittering above the arena.

“Why are we here?” Nova asks, finally, breaking the silence holding the both of them captive.

“Because,” Din answers, his voice level, leading her to the center of the ring, “this is where I won the Darksaber.”

Nova raises a dark eyebrow at him, and even though Din’s face is still obscured by the helmet, she can feel his face softening. “I know, mighty Mand’alor,” she deadpans, her own voice gentle, “I was there for the fight of the century, remember?”

“Stop it,” he interjects, but there’s no venom in his tone. She smiles, relaxing slightly, letting her aching shoulders drop. “I meant this is where it started. When we stood here, you said you thought I could be a good ruler. A fair one. Someone people would listen to.”

“I still think that,” she echoes, and Din’s fingers flutter over the makeshift hood of her shawl, dropping the blue fabric so that her hair falls loose. There shouldn’t be a breeze in here, but something rustles Nova’s long curls, letting them spiral over her right shoulder. “Actually, I know it—”

“I’m not,” Din interrupts, and Nova watches his movements, how calculated they are, how he’s pacing back and forth in the pit around her. It’s empty in here except for the two of them, but there’s some strange sense of exhibition, as if they’re being watched. “I’m not a good leader, Nova, because I’m not a leader. Bo-Katan told me Mandalore doesn’t take kindly to outsiders, but you were right earlier. This place is a ghost town. Besides the people who live and work in the palace, I’ve never seen anyone in the village. I’ve spent hours in the war room just looking at the maps, trying to figure out where all of the Mandalorians are.” He sighs, and Nova chances a half-step forward. “There aren’t any. They’ve either fled, been killed, or have left Mandalore to hide on other planets, like my covert.”

“Din,” Nova starts, but when he holds up a single gloved hand, the words die on her tongue.

“There’s nothing here left to rule,” he says, finally, like the words are both an incredible burden and the truth that sets him free. “Mandalore is gone. Whatever it used to be, whoever used to live here, what we see is all that’s left. Maybe I am meant to rule this planet full of nobody, I don’t know. Maybe this is some sort of strange...riddle that I can’t figure out. But I can’t understand why it’s so imperative for the two of us to step into these roles, to follow rules that make no sense, to try and be a leader for a planet that’s barely anything.”

Nova stares at him. A small smile winges across her lips before she even realizes why. “You don’t want to stay here,” she whispers, which is an echo of the same sentiment she’s been saying for weeks, but this time it feels like the truth laid bare. “You want to be where the fight is.”

Din’s quiet. His shoulders are still rigid. “I don’t run from things.”

“True.” Nova steps another foot towards him, her head cocked to the side, trying to puzzle out what’s happening in his head without seeing a glimpse of his face. “That’s usually my M.O.”

“Stop it,” Din whispers, but there’s no fire left in his voice. Nova studies him—his stature, his stance, the Darksaber hanging off his hip, the proverbial crown balanced over his helmet—but there’s nothing hardened there, nothing sharp, regardless of how regal he is, how his presence cuts through every room like a knife. When she’s finally close enough to touch him, her hands immediately go to his helmet, pressing her palms against the smooth, cold beskar, an invitation and a question all at once. “Novalise,” he tries, and her name sounds like something more, something deeper, something holy. Quietly, she presses her body against his, letting the coolness of the armor heat up against the soft curves of her skin. “We can’t do this in here—”

“You’re the one,” she breathes, hooking her fingers under the rim of the helmet, “who said this is our place to desecrate.”

Din’s breath comes out sharp and wicked, like he’s been impaled on her words. “And I meant it then,” he manages, as she starts to pull his helmet off, “but now all I want to do is be back out there in the stars. Not be this figurehead. Not being the leader of a dozen people who all hate my guts and want to slaughter me for the throne.”

“You are a leader,” Nova continues, pressing her body closer to his. Even through the armor, she can feel him harden against her touch, stiffening against her trousers, a sign that she’s pushing the both of them closer and closer to the edge. “You’re an excellent leader. Tell me what to do.”

“Nova—”

“Prove it,” she whispers, her voice barely air. Her blood is pumping so heavily in her ears that her own words sound distorted, like they’re under a waterfall. “Show me you’re a good leader. Because I believe you are, but I know you have to prove it to believe it.”

“This isn’t what this place was made for.”

Nova stops, her forehead pressed against his. Everything in this strange arena is quiet except for their breathing, an urgent pulsing in the cold, dark night. “So fighting is sacred to Mandalorians,” she breathes, feeling the airlocks that keep Din’s helmet secure around his face hiss. He doesn’t move, letting her lift off his helmet, to have him without his armor. “You’re sacred to me. Every inch of you.”

The sound that erupts from Din’s mouth is even more wicked as the modulator cuts off in the middle of it. Nova pulls the rest of the helmet off of his face, her eyes roaming over every single pore, trying to memorize the way he’s staring at her, half-frenzied, his eyes fluttering somewhere between pleasure and pain.

“Novalise.” Her name still sounds like a prayer. Nova doesn’t break Din’s eye contact, just drops the helmet with a clatter against the floor. It’s loud, deafening almost, but he doesn’t flinch at the sound. “You can’t say things like that to me—”

“Then stop me,” Nova counters. Her heart is hammering. She’s being a brat, she knows she is, a whiny, wheedling baby that only wants one thing, but she can’t help herself. Din’s gloved hand closes around her wrist, squeezing lightly, and even though it makes her heart skip a beat, she’s unhinged and dangerous right now. Silently, she unhinges his hand from where it’s gripping her arm and places Din’s fingers against her throat, leaning into his touch, eyes wide, inviting. “I know you. I know what you want. I know that I made a Rebel out of you, Mand’alor, but I also know that when you give people orders, they’re helpless to do anything other than follow them. You can have whatever you want. You just have to prove it.”

His eyes glint for just a moment. It’s in a flash, over almost as soon as it starts, just a nanosecond, but something glittering and dangerous sparks up behind Din’s measured brown eyes, and Nova barely has time to inhale before his grips tightens around her throat, his other hand anchoring her hips in place. It’s an exact replica of the way he’s held her a million times, but his touch still feels brand new. “I want you.”

Everything stops existing. The war, the ghost town of a planet they’re supposed to rule, the First Order, the insidious war that’s gearing up in the underbelly of the galaxy. The pressure for Din to be a ruler, the urgency of Nova becoming a Jedi, every single piece of their lives fall away. It’s devastating and divine, vivid and vivacious. “Then take me,” Nova breathes, feeling Din harden against her leg, hot and heavy even through her pant leg and the beskar that’s protecting him. “Take me, but do it without armor.”

He stares at her, just for a second, and despite knowing that she has her husband wrapped around her pinky finger, Nova’s own eyes widen, heartbeat quickening, worried she took it a step too far. When Din’s hands disappear from her body, a panicked apology is already trying to hurtle its way out of her mouth, but Din doesn’t break eye contact. His hands pull the armor off of his body, letting each piece clatter at his feet like it’s nothing. Nova’s breath has barely been returned to her lungs by the time that Din’s finished undressing, standing in front of her with nothing but his underclothes, Mandalorian blue, and then he slams himself into her, knocking both of them back a few steps with the centrifugal force. Her knees buckle as she lets herself be swept away, wind knocked right back out through the hollow of her open mouth, Din’s hands purposeful and intentional.

Nova’s pretty sure she’s seen Din this vibrant before, this full of desire, but the way he devours her means something deeper. It’s desperate, and yearning, and haunting, leaving his mark all over her body to be worn as a prize later. His lips trail down her jaw, his teeth sinking into her skin, tongue licking out a symphony on the pulse points he’s expertly mapped over the last year. “Din,” she manages, before his name is sucked straight out of her mouth, and his hands twist and writhe underneath the clothes she’s wearing.

Almost as immediately as he started, his mouth disappears. Nova’s eyes flutter open, trying to find where Din retracted himself to, and his large hands, suddenly bare of the gloves he was wearing just a second ago, grasp onto her face. She inhales sharply as he grabs her, the force of his grip puckering her lips up. Nova feels like putty in his hands, like she’s buzzing. “You want me without armor, cyar’ika?” he asks. Din’s voice is so low, it rumbles straight through her, everything between her legs a hurricane. “You want me to be a ruler?”

Wordlessly Nova nods, trying to coax air back into her lungs. “Yes,” she manages.

There’s something torrential in the low blaze of Din’s eyes. Nova thinks she’s still standing, that he’s keeping her upright, but honestly, she can’t tell. The only thing she’s focused on is the darkened outline of his gorgeous face, the flash of his eyes. “Then I want you like that, too,” Din breathes, yanking the shawl right off of her shoulder. Nova’s hair springs out from underneath it, ricocheting against her face as Din grasps her cheeks, pulling her forehead against his. “No armor. Submissive to what I say.”

Nova gasps, nodding against Din’s touch, and when he tears her clothes off of her, she doesn’t even try to tell him she needs them intact. It’s just fabric. It doesn’t matter, not when his hands can burn against her. When they sink down to the floor of the amphitheatre, kissing so hard their teeth knock together, nothing else exists anymore. It’s just Nova and Din and the stars they’re under, just like always.

The ground is cold against her back, but the second Din pulls his pants down and gets on top of her, the chill is immediately forgotten. Nova stares up at Din, trying to map every single inch of his face, even though she’s already memorized it, even though he’s shown it to the rest of the planet, it still feels so incredibly divine. He’s inhaling sharply, and when she flutters his eyelashes up at him, she nods. Permission. It’s just a second, wordless, but he understands. Usually, Nova wants foreplay, to be kissed, to have every single inch of her body blessed by the man she loves, but that’s not necessary tonight. When he pushes inside of her, hard and warm and huge, she gasps against the pressure. It’s devastating. It’s perfect. It’s hot and heavy and loud, and the force of how Din’s fucking her makes her head slam back agaisnt the floor. Before she can mutter a single word, one of his hands comes up underneath her skull, creating a barrier against Nova and the marble. She lifts her hips, locking her ankles around Din, trying to keep herself in the place he needs her, eyes rolling back in her head.

Somewhere, something devious whispers to her that she’s being used, but right now, Nova doesn’t even care. Every inch of her body is screaming out for Din’s, and every place where he’s touching her feels sacred, complete.

“Nova,” he whispers, and she’s a hymn, a prayer, something deeper than herself in this strange, makeshift place of worship. She wants to talk, to reassure him that she’s here, but then Din’s mouth is back against her lips, ravenous, unyielding. It’s everything. It’s dark in here, and still eerily quiet, and for the first time, she’s unabashed about filling this space up with their noise. It feels like a rite of passage, something divine, especially when Din licks his vows into her mouth, murmuring in Mando’a, swearing in Basic, and his other hand finds the curve of Nova’s hips, lifting her up so he can fuck deeper into her. Suddenly, every single insidious thought evaporates, her hand fluttering down across her stomach to reach her clit.

“Din,” she manages, breathy and disconnected, and immediately, his expert hand knocks hers away, replacing her touch with vigor. Before Nova even has a chance to adjust to his pressure, he’s pushing her over the edge, her oragasm quick and loud, deafening and ecstatic.

“Wait for me,” he grunts, his mouth back on her neck, and Nova’s eyes are flooding with collapsing stars, her ears buzzing, and she wants to apologize that she’s beating him there but when he’s touching her like that, she doesn’t even care. But then Din breaks away from her, angling his hips to slam deeper and deeper into Nova, and his lips tear off her neck, knocking their foreheads together. “Now,” he orders, and his voice is low and commanding, and that alone sends Nova through the roof.

Din grunts as he’s about to cum, writhes into her like it’s the last time that he’ll ever get to touch her. Usually, he pulls out soon afterward, rolls over on his back beside her, but tonight, he just grabs onto Nova’s jaw and stays pulsing in her. Every time his cock twitches with the aftershock, it extends Nova’s own orgasm, and she lets herself be held there, not wanting to move.

“I could,” she starts, panting.

“Stay here forever,” Din finishes, his voice barely anything at all. “I know.”

For what feels like lightyears, they stay together, a tangle of limbs and warmth, trying to catch their collective breaths. Slowly, the rest of the world filters back in, and the quiet, starry darkness of the amphitheatre doesn’t feel desecrated. It feels used, for something better than it was designed for, at that, and Nova feels her heartbeat pound down to a regular rhythm before she lets Din lay down beside her, both of them exhausted, staring up at the ceiling.

“I meant it,” Nova finally says, closing her eyes to feel the hum of her own voice in her throat. One hand is tracing the outline of her scar, the other is tangled up in the discarded shawl that Din thankfully did not eviscerate. “When I said you were a good leader. I think you’re a great one, Din Djarin, and even though I want to be out there.” Nova trails off, gesturing at the ceiling painted with stars, “if staying put means you get to do that, I’ll stay right here. I’ll be a Mandalorian.”

Din’s quiet. Nova doesn’t dare to move, because she knows the significance of what she just said, the crushing weight of it. “I meant it, too,” he whispers, finally. “When I said I’d follow you anywhere.”

Nova inhales sharply, finally turning her head to search her husband’s eyes. “I know,” she murmurs, eyebrows furrowing down the middle. “And I believe you. But what do you want?”

Din’s face is entirely unreadable. Nova counts the beats of her heart as they sit there in the silence, trying to encourage him without saying a single thing.

“You.”

Nova inhales, wetting her mouth with her tongue. “What else do you want?”

Din stares at her, moving only to press the open palm of his bare hand against her cheek. “I want you without armor, too,” he whispers, and then pulls both of them to their feet. Nova knows there’s more to that sentence, but she’s fighting sleep, and she doesn’t want to put pressure on more points than either of them can take. Wordlessly, they redress, and Nova follows Din out of the eerie amphitheatre, out of the maze of tunnels, back to the first floor where the giant war room sits, beskar throne impenetrable at the highest point. She wraps her shawl tighter around ehr shoulders, all the warmth that sex gave them blown away by the startling reality of the situation. Without a word, Din presses the ignition to the holotable, and the strange, blue, fractured image of Nova ten years ago illuminates.

She inhales sharply, her old reflection a sucker punch. Din grabs her hand, and Nova squeezes it, trying to stare at herself head on, without flinching.

“I want to kill off Andromeda Maluev and everyone who’s after her,” Din breathes, his voice so much louder without the barrier of the helmet and the modulator. “I don’t want to rule this planet and ignore the war that’s coming while there are people out there who want you.”

“Din—”

“Listen to me,” Din whispers, grabbing Nova’s face in his hands, and she turns away from her painful reflection, letting him become the only thing she orbits, even if it’s only for a second, even if it’s only for now. “You are Novalise Djarin. I’m not going to let anyone take that away from you.”

Nova’s green eyes flood with tears. Above them, above the mist and fog and haze that hangs over Mandalore like an omen, her stars are sparkling and clear. She inhales, focusing her blurry gaze on her husband, something concrete, something real. “What does that mean?” she whispers, and Din’s right hand goes to her right hip, purposefully knocking into the Skywalker family lightsaber, and Nova’s sharp inhale comes out stuttered.

Din’s eyes are a promise, a prayer. His bare hand smoothes back over her cheek, and something dangerous and pulsing inside of Nova suddenly quiets. “It means,” he says, guiding her own hand down to the weapon hanging from her hip, “that we do what Mandalorians do best. We’ll take it one day at a time,” he continues, and Nova nods, “but we’re going do what we do best. All of us.”

“What are you—?”

“I’m saying,” Din sighs, pointing up through the domed ceiling, and Nova strains her eyes to look through the clouds to the stars above, pulsing and flickering with the promises they’ve made to each other, “that Bo-Katan is going to protect Mandalore, Luke is going to train our kid, Boba and Fennec are going to avenge, Cara’s going to forcefully keep the peace, Karga’s going to figure out who put the bounty on your head, Wedge is going to rally the troops, and you and I are going to save the galaxy.”

There’s a smile on Nova’s face before can register everything Din’s saying. “Din—”

“You’re the only one who gets me without armor,” Din whispers into her ear, and Nova feels the giant door sliding open behind them. She’s going to turn around to yell at Bo-Katan that it’s not the morning yet, and that she just wants one tiny minute of happiness before returning to the weight pressing down on all of their shoulders, but multiple voices filter into the throne room, and Nova lets Din pull her up the steps onto the dais, watching as the space fills up with the people who still make up Mandalore. Bo-Katan raises her chin at them, but something’s replaced the fear and vitriol in her eyes. Din lets his helmet clatter on the floor, the noise loud enough for the rest of the hushed noise in the room to fall quiet. Nova swallows, staring out to the scene of people gathered in front of them, trying to look like a leader, like someone trustworthy. “We’re going to fight,” Din promises, his voice full and honest, a vow, and then he turns to face the people he rules in the center of the room. “Let’s get started.”

*

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*

I HOPE YOU LOVED IT!!! writing this story is truly my biggest joy, and getting to share it with all of you is priceless! i lovelovelove talking to you about your theories and comments and questions, so please leave them below or send me them on tumblr (amiedala)! i think i am finally back on track, so CHAPTER FOUR WILL BE UP SATURDAY, OCTOBER 2ND, AT 7:30 PM EST!!!

i love you all, have a lovely week (hopefully with fall weather coming your way)!!! <3

xoxo, amelie

[yandere-sins]

What about a stern priest that falls in love with a girl who just came to visit his church because she moved into his small town? Although very religious for his whole life, he's just accepting the girl for who she is, a complete opposite (even if they have the same interest in arts, books etc) First she's friendly but then becomes distant because notices his interest in her... And he's sure that this girl is a "god's gift" to him after all these years of loyalty and they're meant to be together

Can’t deny that I am always smitten with yandere’s that need to be ‘pure’ for some reason or another. Just a big ol’ weak spot of mine :D Enjoy!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««    

They were meant for each other.

Anyone opposing that fact was spouting profanities in the face of their own god. After all, it was the power from above that sent her to his church, made her find her way to his threshold. She was a blessing in the form of a human, just like him, and he could not have asked for a better gift after all these years of devotion to nothing but their Lord’s instructions.

Alone the fact that she returned to him in time for confession was enough to prove it. For a while, the Priest had feared that she might lose her way, seemingly nowhere to be found around the church. But thanks to the urging of the people in the community, she had been pushed back on the righteous way meant for her. Right back to him.

From the moment she had arrived in the small fisher’s town, she had changed up the ways of the people, teaching them new technologies and antics she learned in the big city she had come from. He hadn’t been all too happy with it, seeing how the people started to strife away from traditions and values. With the wind of change that she brought, other, less welcome members of society joined the community. Gamblers, corrupt salesman, harlots. Now it was a bustling place, and so was his church and especially his confession booth, as the people flocked in with tales of deception and infidelity.

But it would have been a lie if he said she didn’t move him too.

He had never been anything but the town’s priest, the position promised to him when he was just two days old. Every waking moment of his life had he spent studying the holy scripts, practicing ancient rites, and helping people over their problems no matter the topic, even when he was still too young to even understand them. A prodigy priest, that’s what he had become with just 16, and now, with 24, he was an important member of the community, even though the people began turning away from him.

It wasn’t his fault that he grew stern and cold. If anyone else had been confronted with the sins of humanity from such an old age, breaking down over fearing to fall into the same misery as other people did, surely, they’d began to grow a thicker skin too. And now that he had her, he knew there was at least one other person who understood him.

At least her confessions never spoke of her trying to steal another wife’s man, or how she murdered her brother - which she had five of, all younger than her, and corrupter, he was sure! - or even just about her problem with the good old wine. She only ever spoke of how she worried about other people and their problems, and how much she dreaded not being able to help them more, feeling like she was desensitizing from them the more she heard.

Ah, she understood it so well.

The same scenario played that day. A farmer’s daughter had become pregnant from a merchant on travel, and she came here in the young lass’ stead to ask for forgiveness. Both of them knew there wasn’t more to do than that, the daughter probably ending up with a bastard’s child and shunned by her own family after all.

“What a pity it is,” the priest spoke, holding away the curtain from the booth to let the woman of his peculiar dreams out. The touch they shared as he held out his hand for her to reach for as she stumbled out of the dark, wooden box, was way too short for his taste.

“Is it, though? Isn’t it wonderful how she’ll experience motherhood?” was her quick and witty response, never having been a girl too shy to say what was on her mind. “Perhaps,” he pressed forth through gritted teeth, having nothing more to say. It should have been his duty to console even people with greater mistakes than an unplanned pregnancy, and he should have been the one to tell this woman of how everyone was supposed to keep themselves pure until marriage. But he wasn’t one to talk back to her, much rather wanting to hear more from her instead of his own voice.

“You have stopped coming to the church lately, has something happened?” he asked. Directly, blunt. Just like he was.

“Oh, Father, I...” Unusual for her, she grew timid, wringing her hands in front of her as she looked down. She always looked as if her mind was far away on a new adventure, but today, she seemed especially reluctant to share what was going on inside her. Their shared walk to the front of the church came to a halt, her back turned away from the door so she could face him, despite not being able to look at him.

He only allowed himself to gaze at her longingly for the moment she wasn’t aware of her eyes on him. She was as pretty as a jewel, as colorful and fun as the trees in fall. People gathered around her, her laugh as sweet as the singing of the birds, with eyes shining like sun rays on top of the ocean. There was nothing more he wished for as to reach out and hold her in his arms, take in her shining aura on top of his dimmed, almost vanished one.

If anything, he was the Hades to her Persephone, characters he only heard about in theatre, though they made so much more sense now. And he wanted her. Wanted her to stay here by his side, in these old, traditional stone walls. It would have been enough if she became what he always thought her to be, a friend to the people, a sister of the order he was under. To serve them and live modestly by his side until death does them part.

“I fear...” she muttered, bringing her hands to her chest. “The reason I cannot come anymore is because...”

She seemed abashed, hurting beneath her sunny exterior. A gasp escaped his mouth as the realization hit him, that in her good will and helpfulness, no one ever seemed to take care of her in return. She was always alone with her own worries and fears. The only time she allowed herself to bring them up was with him, behind the grid of the confession booth. Yes, he understood her. And he understood her reasons. They were the same as his, after all.

No one knew her better than he did.

“No more words,” he ordered strictly as he pulled her to his chest, enveloped her body in his ropes. On his face, a never known warmth spread, his heart filling with joy and adoration, as well as thankfulness for the divine dispensation. “I understand even without you saying it. And I must confess... I feel the same way. I, too, am scared of those feelings I harbor for you, and I fear how the people will react if they find out. But it’s alright, as long as we are together, just like we are meant to from above--”

“But, Sir!” she stirred, pushing away from him and tearing apart the blissful moment of intimacy they shared, leaving a bitter taste on his feelings.

“I do not fear my own feelings! But I fear yours! It’s you I fear the most, Father!”

She was quick to take a few, precautious steps away from her. Her eyebrows were furrowed in concern, hands held up defensively. Just like a deer in the eyes of a predator. But that’s not what he was, right? Yes, he was stern and strict, and sometimes too possessed by old values, but he wasn’t an animal, right? He wouldn’t even kill a fly, much less hurt a person.

Before he could say anything, she turned, her clothes captured by the wind of her motions as if they were taunting him. Taunting him to reach out, to grab her and tear on her, and not let her go. Her arms swang back and forth as she made her way out of the church hurriedly, and she almost succeeded, one hand on the large, cold door handle.

The priest’s grip made her squeak from surprise, his fingers adding a crushing weight on her wrist. She twirled around because she was forced to, not because she wanted, her free hand wrapping around his pleadingly. Just for a moment, their eyes met, and he caught his own reflection in those scared, miserable gems of hers. His expression, the bared teeth, the angry shine in his eyes, the many, many wrinkles in his face of anger, concern, and desperation.

That was the only time that he realized that what she saw wasn’t the town’s priest. To her, he didn’t seem like the person everyone else liked and encouraged her to meet. Even when he thought they were so similar, from their taste in books to their dreams for the village, she had been the only one with keen eyes, purity seeing through all evil that was harbored inside of him.

And it was just her who could see the absolute demon he was.

[svnflowervol666]

New Year (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, mentions of smut, dad!harry (or dad-to-be!Harry I suppose), tons of fluff, skewed timeline (I wanted to make this work, so just pretend that Harry and Y/N have been together for quite some time and Camille has long been forgotten)

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! This is my first time writing for Harry, so please be kind! I’d been trying to muster the courage to write this when it was actually right around the new year, but I’ve not been able to stop toying with this cute little scenario in my head! I’d love to write more about dad!Harry or just Harry in general, so your feedback and/or other requests would be greatly appreciated! Take care and tpwk!

She worked her way from the bathroom through the small crowd of people gathered around the living room for what felt like the hundredth time that night. If you asked her what the most inconvenient part of her pregnancy was thus far, she wouldn’t hesitate to tell you that having to pee every half hour on the dot was by far the biggest inconvenience of them all. Far too many times in her now 7 months had she found herself having to locate the nearest restroom anywhere she went as soon as she arrived just to be prepared for when her baby inevitably decided to plant its weight on her bladder.

The space wasn’t overflowing with random bodies or sleazy folks wanting nothing more than a juicy story for their news station. It was just a healthy handful of closest friends and their loved ones. It was a celebration. Of an upcoming new year, a recently released new album, and two recently successful shows in Los Angeles and London. Despite this, she still struggled to spot him in the dimly lit space of the house. 

After gently tapping shoulders and muttering a polite, “Excuse me,” to what felt like everyone at this damn party so that she and her perfectly rounded belly were able to pass through, she found him. He was propped up against the wall in the living room, his lanky, Gucci trouser-clad legs crossed over each other. She could tell by the way his eyes were glued to the floor and how his fingers anxiously drummed away to an invisible beat that he was waiting anxiously for her return.

Harry was never able to shake the nerves that overtook him when she went off on her own. After he’d found out she was pregnant (which was no doubt a result of the hot and heavy reunion the two of them shared after his extended trip to Japan that began around this time last year), he’d always found a way to convince himself that something bad would happen to her and the baby if he wasn’t with her at every possible moment. Sure, it felt somewhat smothering at times, but it beat having an unaffectionate husband who couldn’t care less about the impending arrival of his firstborn by a long shot. In his defense, his own safety had been compromised plenty of times throughout the years of his career, so it’s not to say that his worry was uncalled for. He simply felt more at ease with her by his side. With them by his side.

“What are you thinking about?” she prompted him, wrapping both arms around her husband’s torso and snuggling into his side the best she could with her bump in the way.

Harry seemed to withdraw himself from the hazy daydream he’d been lost in as he responded to his wife’s touch and wrapped his arm around the side of her waist so that his fingers rested softly on the swell of her stomach. She caught a glimmer of a cheeky grin tug at the corners of his lips before he spoke.

“Who ‘m gonna share my New Year’s kiss with after the countdown.”

Immediately, she rolled her eyes at the tall brunette that held her in his arms. Had she not been in such a doting mood, he would have likely earned a punch to the shoulder. Nevertheless, she decided to indulge Harry in his jokes. 

“Yeah? Who’s the lucky gal?” she added a dramatic raise of her eyebrow up at him.

“Hmm,” Harry fake-pondered.

“Verrrrrrry pretty. She’s ‘bout this tall.”

He raised his hand to his wife’s height for reference.

“Her belly kinda sticks out like this,”

His hands motioned in a crescent shape, mimicking her pregnant belly and making them both snicker even more in the process.

“Only thing is, she’s married.”

He finished off his grand performance with a pout.

“Well,” his wife responded as seriously as she could, “You’re Harry bloody Styles. I’m sure her husband would allow just one kiss if it was from you.”

This made Harry blush. She could see the bashful pink even in the low light of the living room, how the heat crept up his cheeks from being complemented by his own wife and partner of several years.

“Wha’ about you? Who's gonna be the one you cozy up to when the clock strikes midnight?” Harry then focused his attention on her.

“Oh,” she shrugged her shoulders as if it was a no-brainer. 

“I was thinking about going for Mitch," she gestured to the brunette who was sat on the sofa across the room with a beer in his hand.

Harry gave in and laughed loudly, unable to keep a straight face for the little game they had been playing.

“You might have to fight Sarah for that one, mate,” he was able to squeeze out in between giggles.

“Eh, I think I can take her.”

No further comment was needed as their laughter died down and they simply basked in each other’s company, listening to the buzzing of various conversations happening around them as the party continued on. Since the cycle began of press tours and rehearsals for the album release shows, the two of them felt like they hardly had any time to themselves, which was why they opted to celebrate the new year on a smaller scale as opposed to a grand party that dozens of other celebrities and brands had invited them to. Not only that, but seeing as their little one would be making their grand appearance in a little less than two months' time, any heavy partying was out of the question. 

“’Ye want to go home, lovie?” Harry broke the comfortable silence between them when he heard her yawn against where her head had been resting against his chest.

“No, you goob. It’s not midnight yet.”

“If you’re tired, we can go. ‘Ye need t’ take care of yourself.”

“I think I can handle being a bit sleepy,” she reassured him.

“Yea, but you need all the rest ‘ye can get. Baby’ll be here soon.”

‘Harry, I promise you that staying up until midnight just one time is not going to hurt me or the baby. I’m good. Promise,” she finished with a loving pat on the part of his chest that was exposed from his unbuttoned blouse.

Harry reluctantly nodded in agreement, relaxing his tensed muscles as he made himself comfortable once more against the wall.

“Can’t believe we’re gonna be parents soon. Gonna have our own baby,” he muttered lowly so that only she could hear. 

“I know. Hopefully, all of those years of taking care of Lux will pay off. I guarantee any child of yours will be a handful, to say the least,” she teased.

Harry faked a dramatic gasp, letting his mouth fall agape and putting his hand over his chest as if what his sweet wife has just said had given his heart a proper break.

“Can’t believe this. M’ own wife.”

There was no need to apologize, they were both used to countless nagging and teasing from each other over the years.

“You’re gonna be a good dad, Harry,” she sighed.

Harry presses a soft kiss to her hair, so featherlight that it was almost undetectable.

“‘N you’re gonna be the best mum. The hottest mum,” he said as his hand slipped south to grab a handful of his wife’s bum which caused her to shriek.

“Harry! We’re in public,” she hissed.

“So? It’s not a secret how much I love ye’. We’re married. Remember? ‘ve written plenty of songs about ya in case you’ve forgotten,” he toyed as he returned his hand back to its proper position around her waist.

The commotion between Harry pinching his lady’s bum had collected an audience, a handful of eyes focusing on the envious and jovial banter between the couple.

It was true, they were the couple everyone aspired to be like. They lasted the test of time. No number of long months apart from each other could dwindle the flame that was their love. It only strengthened the ravenous fire that coursed through their hearts for one another. They had done it right, in their minds at least. They’d gotten their lives together, made sure they were steady and stable before they settled down and decided to marry and have children.

Harry genuinely thought for the longest that he’d never have this. This perfect life and this perfect wife and, soon, a perfect little baby to call his own. He’d always thought that if he ever had children, it would be unplanned. That eventually one of his one night stands would fall pregnant, leaving his child to grow up under less than ideal circumstances. He never thought he’d be where he is today, where he’s always wanted to be.

Time slipped away from the couple and before they knew it, shouting from everyone else in the room signified that the new year was just seconds away. Reluctantly, Harry and his wife pulled themselves from their own bubble they had created away from the party and joined the rest of the group.

“FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE...HAPPY NEW YEAR!” was shouted in unison as a handmade balloon and confetti drop fell from the ceiling and covered the guests as they cheered and kissed their loved ones.

“Have your first kiss of the new year wi’ me? Please,” Harry turned to his wife, wrapping both arms around her sides.

“Only because you asked nicely,” she laughed.

As her fingers linked around Harry’s neck, he pulled her into him. The kiss was tender and sweet, just like his love for her. As they pulled away, Harry rubbed one hand over her swollen stomach and spoke again.

“Think we’re ready for this year?”

His wife brushed away a piece of the metallic star-shaped confetti from his forehead and tucked his stray hairs behind his ear just like she had done plenty of times in their years of being together. The smile on her face was soft and wise, his favorite type of smile, and Harry swears that he can see her glowing despite how dark it is in the room. She’s perfect. Her belly is perfect. Their baby is perfect. They’re perfect.

“I have a feeling we’ll be alright,” she whispered quietly before kissing him once more.

In this moment, just as every other moment, with his hand resting on top of his wife’s baby bump, Harry wishes he could stay like this forever.

[skylarmoon71]

E2 Harrison Wells x Meta Reader- Chapter 14 (Final)

Cliff was currently at the back, so you moved to assist the next customer in line. “What can I help you with today si…”

To your surprise, it was Harry.

“Morales.” you flush, not really expecting him to just show up like this. Still you appreciated it.

“Would you like to have coffee on your break?” you nod, playing with a lock of your hair.

“Y-yeah I’d really like that.”

“Hey kid, pass me the cloth.” you turn at Cliff’s call, tossing it to him. He caught it easily, stopping for a second to watch Harry.

“You alright kid?”

He must have been a bit weary because of the scowl on Harry’s face.

“Oh! Y-Yeah I’m fine this is Harry he’s my-”

“Boyfriend, and you are?” your face palmed. He was already picking a fight. Cliff straightened, moving closer and placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“I’m her boss. You know I think she mentioned you once. You’re that old guy with a bad temper.” Harry’s jaw set, whether from the comment or the hand that was comfortably on your shoulder.

“F-Funny guy! Well I’m gonna take my break see you later Cliff!” you jumped over the desk, taking Harry’s hand and rushing out the store. Harry kept glaring at Cliff until he could no longer see his face. Once in the clear, you sigh. Harry’s gaze moved to you. “Old guy with a bad temper huh.”

“T-That was back when we first met okay. In my defense you were pretty mean at the start.” He still looked annoyed, but followed you down the street. 

“I’m starting to notice a pattern. Matt, Cliff, me?”

“C-Cliff is like a brother to me Harry, quit being paranoid.” Harry wasn’t an idiot, Cliff was a good looking man.

“So you’re saying at no point did you find him attractive.”

“Ummm…..”

Damn it.

“Your fetish is alarming, should I be worried that you might leave me for someone older.”

“J-Just be quiet!!” he’s lucky you were in public, otherwise you would have given him a piece of your mind.

“I swear you get jealous so easily.”

“I’m not jealous.” His face was telling a different story.

“Sure you aren’t.” It was a bit cute, that angry little face he wore when he was disgruntled.

“What about you, I’m sure it isn't a chance that you’re dating me. Like them a little younger.” You were just poking fun at him.

“My late wife, she was four years younger than me.” You stop for a second, because there’s pain present in his words. You’d never intended to bring up bad memories. Though, if you thought about it, Harry didn’t seem like the type to just date any kind of person. He was even so guarded at the beginning. “Wait...Harry, have you been with anyone since your wife?” His eyes won’t meet, but he still shakes his head. 

“I haven’t.”

So, why you? Why take a chance on you. You were far from his type, and as you’ve just discovered, age had absolutely no appeal to him when choosing a partner.

“Why did you decide to pursue me then?” You have to know. Now he looks at you. This is the first time you can say that Harry is wearing his heart on his sleeve.

“Because you’re special (Y/N).”

Such a simple answer did wonders to your heart. Your abilities, to you that’s what you thought was special, but the way he’s looking at you, that’s the real gift. Because Harry doesn’t see a metahuman, or a naive little hero. No, he sees you. The person.

“A lot has happened since coming here, so much unplanned. I’m grateful that I was able to become a part of Team Flash, and I’m very grateful to have met you (Y/N) Morales.”

It’s like he was on a mission to make you cry.

“I love you (Y/N).” 

This was the second time he said it to you. The first was when you were so terrified of losing him. You love Harry you do, but back then you just couldn’t get yourself to say the words. You’ll always hold a fear that you’ll lose the people you care for the most. But right now, that seems so irrelevant. If Harry, someone who was previously emotionally stunted, could be vulnerable, then you could do it too. He gave you the strength to.

“I love you too Harrison Wells.” He’s in a state of awe.

“You...you said it. “You smile.

“I did. I love you!” Your smile becomes brighter. Safe to say his mood has changed drastically now.

“Does this mean you won’t get jealous every time you see me talking to a guy.”

“I wasn’t jealous.” you grin. “Of course not. Harrison Wells does not get jealous. That’s for us regular people.”

“Precisely.”

He really is a piece of work, but you know that your life, it wouldn’t be the same without him.