#it was just pastel galaxy. pastel galaxy everywhere

[mononijikayu]

puddin’ pop — kamo choso.

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!

WARNING/S: fluff, romance, opposites attract, female! reader, not safe for work (nsfw), r-18, smut, body praise, kissing, rough sex, p-i-v sex, pet names (puddin' pop, sweetie and others....), societal prejudice, love, overflowing cuteness, slice of life, humor, light-hearted, being in love, romantic gestures, healthy relationship, tender affection, sexual intercourse, aftercare, boyfriend – girlfriend relationship, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of body praise and care, depiction of naked bodies, mention of sexual innuendo, mention of alcoholic consumption, mention of sexual intercourse, metal head bf! choso, pastel girlie! gf reader, pastel girlie gf! loves her metal head bf! choso so much, everyone if you're looking for love, make sure its as stinking cute and loving as this one, its what everyone deserves!!!;

WORD COUNT: 7.8k words.

NOTE: this entire thing was inspired by this art made by the lovely ushy on twitter!!! i was just dazzled and in love with the possibilities of who metal head bf choso could be like. i was enthralled. so, a lot of credit goes to ushy for creating such spectacular art that inspires me and others well!!! please check out ushy's art and support them too!!! anyway, this is the first time choso won the polls so im happy!!! i hope you all enjoy this!!! i love you all <3

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if you want to, tip! <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

YOU LIKE THE FACT THAT YOU BOTH WERE DIFFERENT. Because it compliments you both so well, almost like yin and yang. At least that’s what Choso likes to say. And you agree with him. Choso and you couldn't be more different on the surface.

You were the pastel princess of the campus, always draped in floral skirts, baby pink cardigans, and bows in your hair. Everywhere you went, you seemed to bring a little sunshine and joy, something that stood out against the often drab college environment. People on campus often teased you, calling you a "walking cotton candy" or a "flower fairy."

Your boyfriend Choso, on the other hand, was a looming presence. Tall and muscular, his arms were covered in dark tattoos of skulls, serpents, and symbols no one dared to ask the meaning of. He wore black band shirts—Slayer being a favorite—ripped jeans, and chunky boots. His piercings glinted under the sun, and his eyeliner gave him a perpetual brooding look. Kamo Choso was the guy you didn’t approach unless you had to.

And because of this, people always wondered how you two could possibly be together. You couldn’t have been anymore from different worlds, galaxies entirely. Whispers never failed to follow you both wherever you went on campus, speculating that you must be too sweet for him or that he was just putting on an act. No one could see how you fit until today. And if you were being honest, you could care less about their invalid opinions.

Today was Choso’s concert with his metal band, and you hadn’t seen each other all day due to classes. And you can tell that it was already getting to you. It was fine to text him and all, but you like having your boyfriend around. You like holding him and kissing his cheeks. And he was warm. And it was getting colder. As you stood chatting with some friends outside the student union, the heads started to turn.

“Is that Choso?” one of your friends whispered, wide-eyed.

You turned, and there he was, his black combat boots stomping across the quad toward you. Your face flushed, your eyes bright eyed. Your lips peaked into a smile. But you noticed the look on his face and you couldn’t help but blink.

His face was still set in that familiar grimace that made people nervous, but you could tell immediately something was different. His hands were hidden behind his back, and his eyes flicked to the ground every few steps, like he was nervous.

“Hey, sweetie.” Choso said, his voice a soft contrast to his intimidating appearance. You could feel people watching you both, but Choso didn’t seem to notice. He reached behind him and pulled out a black band T-shirt—one with a matching Slayer skull logo to the one he was wearing.

“Uh, I was wondering if you... y’know, wanted to match tonight?” he asked, his face flushing red under the tattoos. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, as if he wasn’t the lead guitarist of one of the loudest, most intense bands on campus. He was just your beloved boyfriend Choso, looking like a shy boy asking for a favor.

There was a moment of stunned silence from the people around you. You could feel their confusion, the gears in their heads turning as they tried to reconcile the image of the “scary goth guy” with the one standing before you, blushing and fumbling over his words.

You giggled, clicking heels as you stepped closer and took the shirt from him. “Of course, babe! I’d love to match with you tonight.” You leaned up to kiss his cheek, making his blush deepen as a soft, content smile spread across his face. “I’m thankful you thought of me at all, babe. Thank you so much.”

“I always think of you a lot, sweetie.” He says to you in reply, which only made you swoon even more as you let your body embrace his own as you squealed about how much you loved him. And he smiled, as though the world was the most beautiful place.

That was when everyone seemed to get it. They saw the way Kamo Choso looked at you like you were the most precious thing in his world, how gentle he was with you despite his intimidating exterior. They realized that underneath all the black clothes, makeup, and tattoos, he was a gentle giant—soft, sweet, and completely devoted.

The campus finally understood why you worked. And yet all at once in the same breath, still not understand it at all. But you could hardly care.

As you slipped into the matching shirt, a wave of excitement ran through you. The black Slayer logo against your usual pastel aesthetic was jarring, but you loved the idea of supporting Choso in his world. Even if metal concerts weren’t your usual scene, being there for him made it all worth it.

You walked hand in hand toward the venue where his band would be performing later that evening. You enjoyed having his fingers intertwined with yours and his skin rubbing against you. You looked at him and grinned, which he returned. You both just enjoyed each other’s company, no matter what. Well, that’s what happens when you’re each other’s world.

Onlookers still stared, trying to wrap their heads around how the “campus goth king” and the “girly sunshine queen” made sense together. It wasn’t long before one of your friends caught up with you, curiosity bubbling over.

“Okay, I have to ask. How does this even work?” she asked, her eyes bouncing between Choso’s heavy chains and your flower-printed purse. “You guys are, like, total opposites.”

Choso chuckled softly, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand. You smiled up at your beloved boyfriend, feeling the warmth in his gaze before answering. You didn’t even want to stop looking at him. Your boyfriend was the prettiest, loveliest boy you ever laid eyes on. And everytime you looked at him, you just fell more deeply in love. 

“Well, it’s pretty simple, really.” you started, glancing at him for confirmation. He nodded for you to continue. “We balance each other. He’s got this tough look and I’m more on the bright and bubbly side, but it’s what’s inside that really matters.”

Choso squeezed your hand and added, “She brings me a lot of peace. People think I’m all dark and broody, but if there was any color in me, its my sweetie, here. She’s the one who helps me stay grounded. And honestly, I don’t think I’d ever smile this much without her.” His eyes softened as he spoke, showing a rare vulnerability. “I just….love my sweetie, you know?”

Your friend’s expression shifted from confusion to understanding, the pieces falling into place. “That’s actually... really sweet.” she admitted, looking at Choso with a bit less intimidation and a lot more curiosity. “I guess it’s just surprising because you both seem so different on the outside.”

You laughed, nudging Choso playfully. “Well, I’ve always believed it’s what’s on the inside that counts, right?”

Choso smiled shyly, looking a little embarrassed but happy. “Yeah, and we love each other. Doesn’t matter if we’re all black or pastels. We’re happy together. That’s it.”

By now, more people around you were starting to take notice, seeing the softer side of Choso they’d probably never expected. It became clear to everyone that your differences weren’t a problem—they were the reason you worked so well together. You could be the sunshine in his life, and he could be the calm, steady presence in yours.

As you approached the venue together, You could see that Choso’s bandmates were setting up the stage. They were all dressed in their usual dark, edgy attire, but they greeted you with warmth and fondness. It’s been like this for as long as you remember. They’re really the nicest people you know. And you’re happy because it means your boyfriend will always be surrounded with good people. And because of that, you would be too.

“Looking good in that shirt!” one of the band members teased, smirking at Choso as if to say, You really got her to match you, huh?

Choso grinned sheepishly, clearly proud but trying to play it cool. “Yeah, well, she’s supporting us tonight. Best girlfriend ever, right?”

You giggled and nodded, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Only for you, my baby.”

Before the show started, you found your place in the crowd. It was always the same one. Choso alway insisted that you always be near him as possible to not only make sure he knows you were safe — but so he can always see you and wink at you. And then you would blow back a kiss each and every time. It’s your boyfriend’s favorite part of the show.

You take a sip of your drink. People smiled at you and greeted you. You were a regular at the shows already. But it was always surreal being surrounded by people dressed in all black, while you, with your pastel skirt peeking out from under the band shirt, stood out like a daisy in a field of midnight roses. And all of them were happy to see you there too. Choso’s shows were always such a happy, safe space for you. 

But as the music started, something magical happened.

The moment the first riff tore through the air, it was as though Kamo Choso transformed before your eyes. His quiet, reserved demeanor melted away, replaced by an electrifying energy that radiated from the stage. The powerful riffs and heavy beats pulsed through the venue, reverberating in your chest, and you could feel the intensity of every chord he struck. His hands, the same ones that were always so soft and tender when they held you, moved with precision and power across the strings, commanding the music with effortless grace.

Despite the raw energy of the performance, there was something oddly calming about watching him like this. Seeing him completely in his element, doing what he loved with such passion, brought you a quiet sense of pride.

Every note, every beat, seemed to echo the essence of who he was—fierce, strong, but also thoughtful and deeply connected to his art. And in that moment, it became clear just how much of himself he poured into his music. You could tell that the stage was where he felt most free, and watching him there made your heart swell.

As the concert progressed, the crowd was fully immersed in the music, their energy feeding off Choso’s commanding presence. But every now and then, amidst the chaos, his eyes would seek you out.

Between songs, during brief moments of stillness, he'd glance over in your direction, his gaze softening when he found you in the crowd. It was his silent way of making sure you were okay, that you were enjoying the show, and it warmed your heart to know that even in the middle of performing, he was still thinking of you.

And then, you noticed the shift in the crowd.

People started glancing between the two of you—first at Choso, then at you, as if they were piecing together something they hadn’t quite understood before. They saw the way he’d search for you with his eyes, the subtle smile that would tug at his lips when he spotted you. They saw how your face lit up, your cheers louder than anyone else's, a beacon of support and pride for him to latch onto. 

It was as if, in that moment, the connection between the two of you was undeniable. The bond you shared became as visible as the music that surrounded you, a harmony of its own. Choso’s fans, who had admired him for his talent and stage presence, were now witnessing a softer side of him—a side that belonged solely to you. The glances from the crowd turned from curiosity to understanding, like they finally saw the deeper layers of the person who held their admiration.

And as the music swelled and the concert reached its climax, you could feel it too: the unspoken love that bridged the gap between the stage and the audience, a love that was yours and his, seen in every stolen glance, heard in every note. In that moment, it was as if the whole room was in tune with the rhythm of your connection, an energy that transcended the music itself.

When the final song came to an end, Kamo Choso walked over to the edge of the stage, still holding his guitar, and mouthed, “I love you.” 

Your heart swelled as you mouthed it back, your cheeks hurting from smiling so much. You just love him so much, and it made you the happiest person alive.

After the show, a few students from campus came up to you both, clearly still surprised but now more accepting of your relationship. One girl, who you recognized from your sociology class, shyly approached you.

“You two are actually kind of... adorable together, you know?” she admitted. “I didn’t get it at first, but seeing you both... it makes sense now.”

You smiled, giving her a nod of appreciation. “Thanks. We may seem like opposites, but we’re perfect for each other.”

As you and Choso headed home later that night, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in how you’d shown everyone that love doesn’t have to look a certain way. It doesn’t matter if you’re a pastel-wearing girly girl or a tattooed metalhead. Love is about finding someone who understands you, who balances you, and who makes your life better just by being in it.

And that’s exactly what you and Choso had—something perfectly imperfect, something that made sense in all the ways that really mattered.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

AFTER CLASSES SEPARATED YOU BOTH, YOU FINALLY CAME TOGETHER. You haven’t seen Choso since he got stuck for his violin recitals, so you were bored. It’s not like you weren’t doing anything in fashion classes, but you wanted to see him.

He was your energy boost. Just as much, he was your happy pill. And with a deadlock with your project, you needed to see him to freshen up. So, he finally had free time, he told you he’d come see you.

That’s also how you and Choso decided to go on a date, something simple yet special—just the two of you wandering through the city, hand in hand, without a care in the world. You were dressed in your usual soft pastels, a baby blue sundress fluttering around your legs as you walked, while Choso, in stark contrast, wore his typical all-black outfit. His band tee hung loosely over his broad frame, and his boots clunked with each step beside you.

As you entered the small café, people couldn’t help but glance in your direction, eyes widening at the sight of the unexpected pair. You were the picture of sweetness, like something out of a fairytale, while Choso looked like he just stepped off the stage of a rock concert. The two of you couldn’t be more different visually, yet anyone who took a closer look could see the way your fingers intertwined so naturally, how Choso’s eyes softened every time you spoke.

You found a cozy corner booth, and as you sat down, Choso immediately slid into the seat beside you rather than across from you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, and you smiled up at him, already feeling the warmth of his presence.

“What do you want, puddin’ pop?” you asked sweetly, your voice loud enough to catch the attention of the café staff nearby. The barista paused mid-order, eyes darting toward Choso, as if unsure she heard you right.

Choso, the ever-serious and brooding figure, glanced down at you with a soft chuckle, his fingers tracing light circles on your arm. “Whatever you’re getting is fine, babe.” he murmured, his tough exterior melting away completely in your presence.

The barista, clearly stunned by the interaction, couldn’t hold back her curiosity when she came to take your order. “You two… are so cute together!” she said, hesitantly at first. “I mean, I never would’ve guessed, but… it works!”

You laughed, used to the surprise reactions by now. “Thank you! Yeah, we get that a lot.”

The barista smiled, her nerves relaxing as she took your order. As she left, you turned back to Choso, your grin wide and playful. “See? Even she thinks you’re sweet, puddin’ pop.”

Choso rolled his eyes good-naturedly, though the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed how much he loved the nickname. “You and that nickname…” he muttered, but the smile tugging at his lips told you he didn’t mind one bit.

“Well, you are my puddin’ pop, aren’t you?” you teased, leaning into his side. “You’re like pudding—soft and sweet—and a lollipop, ‘cause you’re a treat.”

Choso groaned playfully, covering his face with his free hand as if embarrassed, but the warmth in his voice gave him away. “You’re gonna make me lose all my street cred, you know that?”

You giggled, giving him a peck on the cheek. “You’ll always be the cool goth guy to everyone else, but you’re my sweet puddin’ pop.”

As the two of you enjoyed your time together, sipping on drinks and sharing pastries, people in the café couldn’t stop sneaking glances. They saw the stark differences in your appearance but couldn’t deny the undeniable connection between you.

Choso’s tough exterior was all but gone when he was with you, replaced with soft smiles and gentle touches. To them, it was unexpected, but to you, it was perfectly normal. Choso, for all his darkness and edge, was the sweetest person you’d ever met, and he showed it in every little way.

But that didn’t bother you. You and your beloved boyfriend continued to talk about things that interest the two of you. Recently, he told you about his progress in some violin concertos and you told him about your progress on your final project for the design class you were in. The world was an echo when your Choso was talking, after all.

As you left the café hand in hand, Choso gave you a loving glance. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?” he asked, his voice quieter now, like it was just meant for your ears.

You smiled up at him, heart fluttering. “I know. And that’s why you’ll always be my puddin’ pop.”

And as the two of you strolled through the city, the sight of the goth guy and the pastel princess, people couldn’t help but admire how well you fit together. You were a perfect, unexpected match—proof that love doesn’t have to look a certain way.

As you and Choso wandered through the city, you could feel the occasional glances from passersby, but by now, you were so used to it that you didn’t even pay them any mind. Choso, however, always kept his guard up just a little, glancing sideways at anyone who looked too long. Not out of annoyance, but more out of protectiveness. Even though he was soft with you, he still liked to make sure no one thought they could mess with his sunshine.

You led him into a little boutique that had caught your eye, one filled with pastel-colored dresses, accessories, and things that practically screamed “you.” As soon as you walked in, you heard a small group of girls gasp near the entrance. You caught a snippet of their whispered conversation:

“Oh my God, is that him? The goth guy from campus?”  

“Wait, that’s his girlfriend? I didn’t know they were actually dating. They’re so... different!”  

“But look how cute they are together!”

You giggled softly, squeezing Choso’s hand as he rolled his eyes, his face slightly red from the attention. He wasn’t much for the spotlight when it came to your relationship, but it was hard to avoid it when everyone seemed so fascinated by the contrast between you two.

As you browsed through the racks, you couldn’t help but pull out a pastel pink sweater with tiny hearts embroidered on it. “This is so cute!” you exclaimed, holding it up for Choso to see.

He gave it a look, raising an eyebrow. “It’s… definitely you, sweetie.” he said with a smirk, though his tone was affectionate.

“Of course it is! What do you think, puddin’ pop? Would you wear it if I bought a matching one for us?”

Choso let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, no. I’ll stick with my black, sweetie. Thank you though."

You pouted playfully, nudging him. “Come on, just once? For me?”

Choso softened, and you could see the internal battle playing out on his face. You knew he’d do anything to make you happy, even if it meant stepping way out of his comfort zone. “Alright, fine sweetie.” he relented, sighing dramatically. “But only because you’re cute.”

Your eyes lit up, and you threw your arms around him in a quick hug. “You’re the best!”

The girl at the counter couldn’t stop staring as you and Choso approached to pay. She looked completely bewildered, like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. “I—I love your outfits….” she stammered, scanning the pastel sweater. “You two are really… um, adorable.”

Choso, clearly flustered, mumbled a quiet “Thanks!” while you beamed and responded. “Aren’t we? He’s my sweet puddin’ pop, after all.”

The cashier blinked in surprise, probably not expecting the goth guy who looked like he belonged in a metal band to be called something so cute. But as she handed you the bag, you caught the faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. It was as if she’d just witnessed a secret that made perfect sense in some strange way.

After leaving the boutique, Choso let out a deep breath, clearly relieved to be out of the spotlight. “I can’t believe you convinced me to get a pink sweater.”

You giggled, taking his arm and leaning your head against it. “You’re gonna look so cute, though! I’ll take a picture of us together and keep it forever.”

Choso groaned, but there was a smile on his face as he shook his head. “Only for you. I swear, you’ve turned me into a complete softie, sweetie.”

You looked up at him, eyes sparkling. “But you’ve always been a softie. You’re just finally admitting it.”

He gave a soft, resigned laugh. “Yeah, yeah… whatever you say.”

The two of you continued your walk, eventually ending up at your favorite park. As you found a bench to sit on, the sun began to set, casting a golden glow across the trees and flowers. It was quiet and peaceful, and you felt Choso’s arm wrap around your shoulders again, pulling you close.

For a moment, everything was perfect. You didn’t care about the stares or the whispers or the way people seemed to be so fascinated by the two of you. All that mattered was how you felt when you were with him—like the world was a little brighter, a little softer.

You glanced up at him, resting your chin on his shoulder. “You know, no matter how many people are surprised by us, I still think we’re perfect together.”

Choso smiled down at you, his eyes filled with a warmth that only you got to see. “I know. I wouldn’t trade this for anything, sweetie.”

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, the two of you sat there in comfortable silence, content in your own little world where opposites didn’t just attract—they completed each other.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

YOU HAD FREE TIME, AND HE DID TOO. So, it was just right for him to come by and cuddle with you. It was a quiet evening when Kamo Choso walked into your apartment, his usual black boots clunking against the hardwood floor as he made his way to where you were curled up on the couch. You looked up from your book and smiled when you saw him, your pastel-colored socks contrasting with the dark, brooding aura he carried everywhere.

"Hey, puddin' pop." you greeted sweetly, holding your arms out for him.

Choso's lips twitched into a soft smile as he walked over to you, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. He settled beside you, his arm casually draping around your shoulders as you snuggled into his side. For a moment, the two of you just sat there in comfortable silence, but you could tell there was something on his mind.

He cleared his throat a little awkwardly, running his hand through his messy hair. “Hey… so, I, uh… I wrote a new song, sweetie.” he started, his deep voice a little unsure.

You sat up, instantly interested. “Really? That’s amazing! What’s it about?” 

His eyes darted away for a second, the usual confidence he exuded seeming to falter as his cheeks tinted pink. “Well… it’s about you.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, your heart doing a little flip at his words. “Me? You wrote a song about me?”

He nodded, clearly trying to play it cool, but you could see the faint blush creeping up his neck. “Yeah, I mean… I’ve been working on it for a while. It’s for the band. I wasn’t sure if you’d be into it, though, since, you know, you’re not really big on metal.”

Your heart practically melted at his bashful tone. Choso, the brooding goth guy who looked like he could crush someone with a glance, had written a song about you? It was like every romantic dream you never knew you had was suddenly real.

“Oh my gosh, puddin’ pop!” you squealed, your hands grabbing his arm in excitement. “I want to hear it! I don’t care if it’s metal, I’ll love it just because it’s from you!”

He chuckled, a little nervous but clearly pleased with your enthusiasm. “Are you sure? It’s kinda heavy, sweetie…”

You practically jumped up from the couch, tugging him along with you. “I’m sure! Come on, I need to hear this!”

Choso laughed as you dragged him to his guitar, which he had brought over for practice. He picked it up, settling it on his lap as you sat back down, eagerly waiting for him to start. The way your eyes sparkled made his heart swell with affection. He strummed a few notes, tuning the strings before looking at you with a small smile.

“Alright, sweetie….” he said softly, his voice gentle in contrast to the deep rumble of the guitar. “Just… keep an open mind, okay?”

You nodded eagerly, clasping your hands together as if you were about to witness the performance of a lifetime. Your eyes were shining brighter than ever before. Your face was focused on him, awestruck already. It’s as if you had decided that it was already the best song in the world (which to you, it was.)

Choso took a deep breath before he started playing, the guitar riff heavy and intense, but there was a surprising tenderness woven into the melody. It was raw, powerful, but there was an undercurrent of emotion that made your chest tighten. 

He began to sing, his voice low and gravelly, but the lyrics were… beautiful. They spoke of love, of safety, of someone who brought light into his dark world. Each word made your heart race faster as you realized just how deeply his love for you had inspired every note, every line.

Even though you weren’t as big into metal music as he was, you could feel the emotion behind each chord. It was him, pouring his heart into the music in a way only he could. You watched him, completely enraptured, as he sang about how you made him feel—how you were his bright spot, his calm amidst the storm.

When he finished, there was a brief silence, the air between you both charged with emotion. He glanced up at you, a little hesitant, waiting for your reaction. “So… what do you think, sweetie?” he asked quietly, his tough exterior cracking just a little as his vulnerability showed.

You didn’t even know how to put your feelings into words, so you did the only thing you could think of. You launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck in a tight hug. “Oh my sweet sweet puddin’ pop! That was beautiful! Oh my God, I can’t believe you wrote that for me! I love it, I love you!”

Choso’s arms wrapped around you instinctively, his deep chuckle vibrating through his chest as he held you close. “You really liked it? Even though it’s, you know… metal?”

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, your smile wide and full of love. “It doesn’t matter what genre it is! You put your heart into it, and I could feel it. It was perfect.”

Choso’s smile softened, and he leaned in to press a kiss to your lips, his hand cradling the back of your head. “I’m glad. I just… wanted you to know how much you mean to me. You’re everything, you know?”

You felt your heart swell, your love for him overflowing. “You’re everything to me too, puddin’ pop. I can’t believe you wrote me a song,” you gushed, still in awe of how deeply his love for you translated into everything he did.

Choso blushed again, clearly not used to being fawned over like this. “Well… you inspire me, sweetie.” he mumbled, his voice gruff but full of affection. “Always.”

You grinned, resting your head against his shoulder as he held you close. “I’ll always be your biggest fan, no matter what. Even if I’m not the biggest metalhead.”

He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your hair. “That’s all I need.”

You stayed wrapped in Choso's arms for a while, the warmth of the moment lingering between the two of you. His heart was still pounding against your cheek, and it was clear that even for someone as stoic as him, sharing the song with you had meant the world.

"I can't believe you were nervous about showing me that, hm?" you whispered, tracing little circles on his chest. "It was so beautiful. The way you turned your love into music... you’re amazing, puddin’ pop."

Choso let out a soft, almost bashful chuckle. “Yeah, well… it’s easier to play it in front of a crowd than just for you. I wanted it to be perfect, sweetie.”

Your heart melted at his honesty, and you squeezed him a little tighter. "It was perfect. And it just makes me love you more."

Choso smiled softly, the tough-guy act completely dropped as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. “Good.” he said quietly. “Because I’ll probably write a dozen more songs about you.”

You laughed, your cheeks flushed with warmth. "Promise?" you teased, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“Promise, sweetie.” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you again, slow and tender. 

There was something about Choso’s kisses that always made you feel like the world had stopped for just a second—like the two of you were the only ones who existed. And in moments like this, it didn’t matter if you didn’t share his love for metal music or if your pastel wardrobe clashed with his dark, edgy style.

When the kiss ended, you both settled back on the couch, with Choso resting his guitar against the wall. You nestled into his side, your fingers laced together. The silence between you was comfortable, but you could tell there was still something on his mind.

“I’m thinking about playing it at our next gig, sweetie.” he finally said, glancing down at you. “I’d want you there… if you’re up for it.”

Your eyes widened with excitement. “You want me there when you play it? Of course, I’d love to be there!”

Choso looked relieved by your enthusiasm, though there was still a hint of nervousness in his eyes. “It’ll be loud, though. Probably going to be louder than our last gig since it’s with other metal bands.”

You grinned, nudging him gently. “I’ll bring earplugs, don’t worry. But I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I want to be there when you play our song, you know?”

Choso’s gaze softened, and he squeezed your hand. “You don’t know how much that means to me, sweetie. It’ll be the first time I’ve played a song that personal.”

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Well, now it’s personal to me too. I’ll be there, cheering you on in my pastel outfit, and I’ll make sure everyone knows I’m the one you’re singing about."

He chuckled, imagining the sight of you in the crowd, all sweetness and sunshine, while his band rocked out on stage. “You’ll definitely stand out, sweetie.” he said with a teasing smirk.

“Good! I want everyone to know I’m your biggest fan, puddin’ pop!” you replied with a grin.

Choso kissed the top of your head, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of your hand. “You always have been.”

The rest of the night was spent in quiet contentment. You stayed wrapped up in each other, talking about his band, the upcoming concert, and the thought of hearing your song live for the first time. Choso shared little stories from his rehearsals, his voice full of excitement whenever he mentioned the moment he’d finally reveal the song to the audience—and to you.

“I’m already planning my outfit!” you joked, imagining what you’d wear to one of his gigs. “Something cute but not too out of place.”

Choso laughed, pulling you closer. “Wear whatever you want. I’ll be proud to have you there, no matter what.”

You looked up at him, your eyes full of love. “I’ll be there in the front row, cheering for you. And afterward, we’ll celebrate with a giant lollipop, since, you know, you’re my puddin’ pop.”

Choso groaned, his cheeks turning a faint shade of red, but the smile on his face didn’t fade. “You’re never gonna let that nickname go, are you?”

You giggled, shaking your head. “Never. It’s part of the deal.”

He rolled his eyes, but the fondness in his voice was undeniable. “I guess I can live with it… as long as you keep being my inspiration.”

And with that, the two of you fell into a peaceful silence again, your hearts full of love. As the night continued, you couldn’t help but think about how lucky you were. Choso might’ve been tough on the outside, but underneath all of that was the sweetest, most caring person you’d ever met. And now, knowing he’d written a song about you, you felt even closer to him than ever before.

No matter how different you seemed on the outside, Choso’s love for you translated into everything he did—from his quiet moments with you to the powerful music he created. It was all a reflection of the way he saw you, and it made you fall even deeper in love with your sweet, tough, and tender-hearted puddin’ pop.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

IT’S BEEN A WHILE FOR BOTH OF YOU SINCE ITS FINAL WEEK. Your metalhead boyfriend Choso finally arrives at your dorm, his presence immediately filling the room with warmth. He steps in close, his strong hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you gently but firmly against him. His breath is warm on your skin as he leans down, his lips softly grazing the sensitive area around your ear. 

"Want to do it, sweetie?" he murmurs, his voice husky, a teasing grin tugging at the corners of his lips because he knows your answer already. “I missed you….”

“I missed you too, puddin’ pop.” You whispered back, a sly smile on your lips. Your eyes lustfully gazing back at him. “So so so much….”

“Just how much, sweetie?”

“A lot.” You whispered as your fingers trailed onto your thighs and a little bit lower. Choso was already sure what he’d find down there. He knows you too well. His little sweetie. “Help me, puddin’ pop. I need you.”

As soon as you give him the slightest confirmation, he effortlessly scoops you up, cradling you in his arms like you weigh nothing. His lips never leave your skin as he walks you towards the bedroom, each kiss a little more insistent, a little more needy. Between the kisses, he leans in close to your ear, whispering the dirtiest, most wicked things, his words making your skin tingle.

As Choso carries you, his lips trail down your neck, leaving a path of heat with every kiss. His grip tightens slightly around your waist, the tension building with each step toward the bedroom. The way he whispers into your ear, voice low and raspy, sends shivers through your entire body. His words are teasing, laced with promises that make your mind race, each one more wicked than the last.

He lays you down gently on the bed, his body hovering over yours, eyes dark with desire as he drinks in the sight of you. His hands roam your body, slow and deliberate, as if savoring every moment, every inch of your skin. His kisses grow deeper, his whispers more urgent, as his desire for you becomes undeniable. 

"You're mine tonight, sweetie." he breathes, his voice thick with lust.

You smiled. “I always was, puddin’ pop.”

Choso’s lips crash against yours, the intensity building as his hands explore your body with purpose, claiming every inch of you. His touch is firm yet careful, as though he’s memorizing the way you react to each kiss, each graze of his fingertips. His words, laced with that rough edge, never stop. 

“I’ve been thinking about this all day, sweetie.” he mutters between kisses, his breath hot against your skin as he trails his lips back down to your neck. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

He pins your wrists gently above your head, holding you in place, his eyes locking onto yours with a burning intensity. He leans down again, his lips brushing your ear as he growls softly, “I want to hear you say my name… over and over.”

His words send a rush of heat through your body as he lowers himself, every movement slow, teasing, deliberate, until the anticipation becomes almost unbearable. The room feels electric, the air between you charged with desire, as he continues to whisper the dirtiest, most enticing things.

Choso’s hands slide down your arms, his grip firm yet tender as he keeps you pinned beneath him. His breath is hot against your skin, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss before trailing back to your neck, down to your collarbone, teasing with every move. The way he takes his time with you, savoring each reaction, has you breathless.

"You're so perfect for me, sweetie." he whispers, his voice thick with lust and affection. "I love watching you like this."

His hands move lower, fingers tracing your sides, sending shivers down your spine as he leans in closer, his body pressing against yours. He kisses you deeply again, the kind of kiss that makes your head spin, before pulling back just enough to meet your eyes.

“I’m not stopping until you’re completely mine tonight, sweetie.” he growls softly, his words dripping with intensity. The way he says it sends a rush of anticipation through your entire body, making you ache for his touch even more. 

Without breaking eye contact, he lowers himself further, his kisses moving lower, trailing heat in their wake. Every touch, every word leaves you feeling completely consumed by him, the world around you fading away until it's just you and him, tangled together in this moment that feels both endless and electrifying.

Choso’s kisses become more intense, his pace deliberate yet teasing, as if he’s relishing the control he has over every inch of your body. His hands trace slow, burning paths along your skin, each touch igniting a fire inside you. He knows exactly how to make you melt beneath him, every movement calculated yet filled with raw passion. 

He leans back up, his eyes locking onto yours, dark with desire. "I love how you react to me, sweetie." he murmurs, voice dripping with a mix of dominance and affection. "The way your body responds... it drives me wild."

His fingers trail lightly across your chest before grabbing hold of your waist, pulling you even closer, his breath ragged with anticipation. His lips return to your ear, teeth gently grazing the sensitive skin as he whispers, "You're going to scream my name tonight."

The way he says it sends shockwaves through your body, the desire in his voice leaving you aching for more. His hands grip you tighter as he kisses you deeply, his passion consuming you entirely. Every whispered promise, every soft growl, every lingering touch leaves you yearning for more, completely lost in the moment, knowing he’s not letting up until you’re both completely spent.

"You’re mine, just mine." he growls, his voice low and possessive, making it clear that he’s going to fulfill every wicked promise he’s made tonight.

Choso’s lips crash against yours once more, each kiss more urgent and consuming, as if he’s claiming you entirely. His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding your body beneath his, the heat between you growing unbearable. The intensity in his eyes makes your breath catch, his gaze full of need, raw desire, and something deeper — a craving that goes beyond the physical.

He presses his body closer, his breath hot against your skin as he continues to whisper the dirtiest, most intimate words in your ear, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “You don’t know how much I need you right now, god…..” he murmurs, his words laced with desperation and control.

His touch becomes rougher, more insistent, as he moves in rhythm with the tension building between you. Every kiss, every graze of his fingertips, pulls you deeper into the moment, making you forget everything else. It’s just you and him, the weight of his body pressing down on you, the way his voice rasps your name in between breaths, each sound sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

"Say my name, sweetie." he growls, his voice husky, lips hovering near your ear. "I want to hear it. I want to hear how much you need me."

“Cho, cho—” You choked in pleasure as he continued to find him satiating you with pleasure over and over. “Baby, p–puddin’ pop. Please. Oh—”

You feel yourself slipping, losing control as his words become more possessive, each touch pushing you closer to the edge. The room feels smaller, the air heavy with heat and desire as Choso claims you again and again, each time more intense than the last.

And just as you think you can’t take any more, he leans down, his lips brushing your skin as he whispers, “You’re mine. Only mine. Sweetie, you know that right?” His words linger in the air, echoing through the haze of pleasure that surrounds you both, sealing the night with a promise only the two of you can understand.

“I do, I do.” You moaned out in a frenzy. “Baby, my puddin’ pop, I do. O–only, uh…only yours!”

Choso’s pace quickens, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate, as if he’s on the verge of losing control himself. His grip tightens around your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you closer, the weight of his body grounding you while pushing you to the edge of sensation. His lips are everywhere—your neck, your collarbone, your lips—claiming you with every kiss, every touch. 

Your breaths come in ragged gasps as the tension builds between you, the heat reaching an unbearable peak. He groans softly, his voice thick with need as he whispers, "I’m right there with you... just let go for me." His words are a command and a plea all at once, and the sound of his voice is enough to push you to the brink.

With a final, shuddering thrust, the world around you seems to fall away, the pressure inside you finally releasing in a wave of pure ecstasy. Choso’s name tumbles from your lips, over and over, exactly the way he wanted. His own breath hitches as he follows you into that climax, a deep, guttural groan escaping his throat as his body tenses against yours, the pleasure overwhelming him too.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm and ragged against your skin as he rides out the last waves of pleasure, holding you tightly as if he never wants to let go. His fingers gently stroke your skin now, soft and soothing in contrast to the intense passion you just shared. 

For a moment, everything is quiet, just the sound of your mingled breathing filling the room, the intensity of the moment settling into a soft, shared intimacy. Choso presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his voice a low whisper as he says, “You’re everything I need, sweetie.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. epilogue

As the intensity fades and the world starts to come back into focus, Kamo Choso gently eases himself beside you, his arms never leaving your body. His expression softens, all the hunger and fire replaced with tenderness as he looks at you, his thumb brushing over your flushed cheek.

"You did so good, sweetie." he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His touch is slow, deliberate, as he strokes your hair, helping you come down from the high. He wraps the blanket around both of you, pulling you into his chest, his body warm and comforting against yours. 

He reaches for a water bottle on your bedside table, offering it to you with a small smile. "Drink up, hm?" he says gently, knowing how much you need it. After you take a sip, he tenderly kisses your temple, his fingers tracing soothing circles along your back. 

The atmosphere shifts into something soft and intimate, his hands carefully massaging your sore muscles, making sure you feel cared for. His voice is low, murmuring sweet reassurances, "I've got you… I’ll take care of you."

Once he's satisfied that you're comfortable, Choso shifts so you're nestled in his arms, your head resting on his chest. He stays close, his fingers gently stroking through your hair, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. There's a certain peace in the quiet moments after everything, and you feel completely safe with him, wrapped up in his warmth.

"You know I’m not going anywhere tonight, right?" he says softly, his voice laced with affection. He leans down to kiss the top of your head, his arms tightening around you protectively. "I’ll be here, all night, right next to you."

The two of you lie there, tangled in each other, as the night settles around you. The outside world doesn’t matter anymore—just the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the way he holds you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world.

As sleep starts to pull you in, Choso whispers, “I love you, sweetie.” his voice barely audible but filled with sincerity. And in that moment, everything feels perfect, knowing he’ll be right there when you wake up. Your beloved metalhead boyfriend.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 All Wrapped Up

All Wrapped Up: When your date with Morpheus is cut short, you are left with his coat and your own thoughts… and a bleeding finger from where said coat bit you. You find out that Morpheus’ coat is very much alive as the rest of the realm.

Warnings: Morpheus’ Coat Fucks You (this is your only warning on how nasty this is), Explicit Language, Explicit Material.

To Note: AFAB!Reader x Morpheus’ Coat

Word Count: ~6.4k

You stroll through the shifting landscapes of the Dreaming, your boyfriend Morpheus by your side. The sky above you morphs from a star-studded abyss to a canvas of swirling pastels, the colors melting into each other like ice cream on a hot day. A soft breeze carries the scent of blooming nightshade and distant rain. Yet another perfect night to spend with your handsome and beautiful boyfriend.

"You know," you say, glancing at him, "this place could use more flowers."

Morpheus' lips twitch into a barely-there smile. "Flowers? Are there not flowers throughout my realm? What more do you wish for?"

"Gilbert is currently hoarding all the best ones" you huff out in half complaint. "I'm talking about everywhere else in the realm. The places that don't have his super awesomeness."

"And what do you propose I should add?" Morpheus asks, tilting his head to the side.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe some unique roses? Lilacs? Orchids even," you gesture vaguely, enjoying the way his eyes—currently a serene blue—catch the light. They glimmer so prettily with stars. "Fun and unique flowers that you would never see together. Tulips, birds of paradise, hydrangea…"

"Fun and unique flowers, you say?" Morpheus muses, his voice like a gentle hum in the background of a dream. He lifts a hand, and with a flick of his wrist, the ground around you begins to shift. Suddenly, the once bare earth is alive with a riot of colors. Roses in every hue imaginable bloom alongside lilacs, their delicate petals brushing against the striking shapes of orchids.

The air thickens with their fragrance, a heady blend that fills your senses and makes you feel dizzy with delight. You laugh, spinning around to take it all in. "See? This is what I'm talking about."

"Indeed," Morpheus replies, a trace of amusement in his voice. "Anything else you desire?"

Before you can respond, a loud caw breaks through the tranquility. You glance up to see Matthew the Raven circling overhead. "You two look like you're picking out wedding flowers," he comments, swooping down to land on Morpheus' shoulder.

"Do you have something to add, Matthew?" Morpheus asks, one eyebrow arched.

"Just that maybe you should throw in some dandelions," Matthew says, ruffling his feathers. "You know, for variety."

You chuckle, reaching out to scratch Matthew's head. "Dandelions? Really?"

"Hey, don't knock 'em till you've tried 'em," Matthew quips.

Morpheus waves his hand again and suddenly dandelions sprout amidst the more exotic blooms. Their cheerful yellow heads bob in the soft breeze, adding an unexpected touch of whimsy to the scene.

"I have to admit," you say, bending down to pluck one from the ground. "It does add something special."

The Dreaming reacts to every movement and word from Morpheus. The sky darkens slightly as if acknowledging his focus on this moment with you. The colors become more vivid, each petal and leaf shimmering as though made of dreams themselves.

You catch a hint of ozone in the air—like just before a thunderstorm—and it makes your skin tingle with anticipation. It's as if every sense is heightened here: the sound of distant waves crashing against unseen shores; the feeling of soft grass beneath your feet; the sight of flowers blooming in impossible combinations.

Morpheus watches you with those enigmatic eyes that seem to hold entire galaxies within them. "Anything else?" he asks softly.

"Hmm," you ponder aloud. "How about some bioluminescent fungi? Something that glows when it gets dark. Can't go wrong with a good mushroom."

Matthew caws approvingly. "Now that's an idea! Glowing mushrooms could make this place even more magical."

With another wave of Morpheus' hand, glowing fungi begin to appear among the flowers. They emit a soft light that bathes everything in an ethereal glow as twilight descends over the realm.

Morpheus pulls you closer, your body fitting perfectly against his chest. The feeling is almost overwhelming—his coat is soft and warm, like the comforting embrace of a dream you never want to wake from. You really didn't. His fingers trail down your back, sending pleasurable sensations up your spine.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" His voice is a low murmur in your ear, each word vibrating through you like the distant rumble of thunder.

You nod, drawing your fingers down the lapel of his coat. The fabric feels like velvet under your touch, and the galaxy within it seems to pulse with light and energy. There is even a humming vibration beneath your fingertips that almost echo the coats appreciation of your touch.

"Morpheus," you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper.

Matthew flaps his wings in agitation from his perch on Morpheus' shoulder. "Come on, guys. Do we have to do this right here?"

Ignoring Matthew's protest, you let your fingers wander further down Morpheus' coat. Each touch ignites a spark of passion that crackles between you both. His grip on you tightens slightly, as if he can't bear to let you go.

"If he does not wish to witness me kissing my beloved," Morpheus says, his eyes darkening with intensity as they lock onto yours, "Matthew is welcome to leave."

The raven lets out an indignant squawk but takes flight, disappearing into the shifting sky of the Dreaming.

He lowers his head slowly, giving you just enough time to close your eyes before his lips meet yours. The kiss is gentle at first, a mere brush of lips that sends a rush of warmth through you. But then it deepens, becoming more insistent as he pours all his longing and desire into that single point of contact.

The sounds around you seem to amplify—the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant roll of thunder, even the faint hum of bioluminescent fungi glowing softly in the growing twilight. It's as if every element in the Dreaming is attuned to this moment, enhancing every sensation.

Your hand slides up into his hair, feeling its softness between your fingers. You press yourself closer against him until there's no space left between you. His arms wrap around you tighter still as if he could pull you into himself completely.

As you lose yourself in the kiss, your hand continues its journey down Morpheus' coat, the fabric smooth and cool against your fingertips. You can feel the coat almost react to your touch, a subtle vibration that seems to echo Morpheus' own desires.

Your fingers brush against the edge of one of his coat pockets, and without thinking, you slip your hand inside. The interior is surprisingly warm, a stark contrast to the outer fabric. But then, something sharp bites into your finger. You pull back abruptly, breaking the kiss with a gasp.

Morpheus' eyes snap open, darkening from their serene blue to a concerned silver. "What is wrong?" His voice is soft but filled with an urgency that sends a shiver down your spine.

You blink in confusion, glancing down at your finger. A drop of blood wells up from a tiny puncture wound, bright red against your pale skin. "I... I think something bit me," you stammer.

Morpheus frowns deeply. He takes your hand gently in his own, lifting it to inspect the wound. His eyes narrow slightly as he studies the small drop of blood. Without warning, he brings your finger up to his lips and slides it into his mouth.

The sensation is electric. His lips are warm and soft against your skin, his tongue soothing as it laps at the wound. You shiver as Morpheus' tongue glides over your finger, each lap sending a tingling sensation straight to your core. The warmth of his lips contrasts sharply with the cool evening air, creating an intoxicating mix of sensations that makes it hard to focus. His eyes, now a deep, mesmerizing silver, lock onto yours, and you feel the world around you blur into insignificance.

The faint taste of iron lingers as he continues to lick the small wound, his movements slow and deliberate. It's almost as if he's savoring every drop of your blood. You can hear the soft sound of his tongue against your skin, a rhythmic, almost hypnotic noise that seems to echo in the stillness of the Dreaming.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally releases your finger. The wound is gone, not even a scar remaining. You flex your hand experimentally, marveling at the seamless healing.

"That was... weird," you murmur, pulling your hand back.

Morpheus' lips curve into a slight smile. "My apologies if it caused you discomfort."

You shake your head, brushing it off. "No, it's fine. Just unexpected."

He straightens, his expression shifting from concern to something more reserved. "I must return to my duties," he says softly.

Your heart sinks at his words. The thought of him leaving, even for a short while, fills you with a sense of loss. "Already?" you pout, unable to hide your disappointment.

Morpheus chuckles, a sound like distant thunder rolling through the night sky. He reaches up and slips off his coat, the fabric whispering against itself as it moves. The galaxy within it seems to pulse with life as he drapes it around your shoulders.

The coat envelops you in warmth and comfort; it’s like being wrapped in the night sky itself. Well, you are wrapped up in a galaxy.

"Wear this," Morpheus murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "So I will be with you until I physically return."

You snuggle into the coat's embrace, feeling its gentle hum against your skin—a soft vibration that echoes Morpheus' own being. The fabric is impossibly soft, caressing your body like he truly is wrapped around you.

He cups your cheek with one hand, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "I will not be long," he promises.

You watch as Morpheus disappears into the ever-shifting landscape of the Dreaming, his silhouette blending seamlessly with the twilight. The weight of his coat around your shoulders is comforting, like an embrace that lingers long after the person has left. With a deep breath, you turn and begin to make your way back to the palace.

The path ahead winds through a forest of bioluminescent trees. Their leaves emit a soft, otherworldly glow that illuminates your way. The air is filled with the faint rustling of leaves and the occasional distant call of nocturnal creatures. As you walk, the sound of your footsteps mingles with these ambient noises, creating a symphony that feels uniquely alive.

The palace looms ahead, its grand spires reaching up to touch the star-studded sky. The entrance is guarded by three majestic creatures—a Gryphon, a Wyvern, and a Hippogryph—each one regal and imposing in its own right. They nod at you as you pass through the gates, acknowledging your presence with silent respect.

Inside, the palace is a labyrinth of corridors and rooms, each one more fascinating than the last. You wander aimlessly, letting your feet guide you. The walls are adorned with intricate tapestries that seem to move and change as you look at them, depicting scenes from countless dreams and nightmares. It was hard to be bored in the dreaming, but you really just wanted to spend time with your boyfriend!

You make your way through the winding corridors of the palace, each step echoing softly against the marble floors. The air is cool, almost refreshing, carrying with it the faint scent of night-blooming jasmine. The palace itself seems to breathe around you, walls shifting subtly as if alive.

Finally, you arrive at Morpheus' private chamber. The door creaks open with a whisper, revealing a room that feels both infinite and intimate. Soft starlight filters in from the high windows, casting gentle shadows across the floor.

Stars float lazily in the air, tiny orbs of light that shimmer and pulse as if they hold entire galaxies within them. You reach out to touch one, and it flutters away like a shy firefly before coming back to hover just above your fingertips. Its light is warm against your skin, sending tingles up your arm.

You wander around the room, brushing your fingers against the floating stars. Each one responds to your touch with a soft hum, a melody that seems to vibrate through your very being. It's like touching pieces of Morpheus himself—fragments of his essence scattered throughout his sanctuary.

As you explore, your gaze drifts down to the coat pocket where something had bitten you earlier. The memory of that sharp pinch makes you pause. Curiosity gnaws at you as you slip your hand back into the pocket cautiously this time, but all you feel is the warm, velvety lining.

"At least I have you to cuddle with," you murmur to yourself, a small smile playing on your lips. "Morpheus' coat is better than no Morpheus at all."

A warmth spreads through your body and you snuggle your face into the neckline of the material, enjoying the way the galaxy feels against your skin. You make your way over to Morpheus' bed and climb onto it, sighing as your hands and knees sink into the cloud like mattress.

The scent of Morpheus lingers on the sheets—a mix of stardust and midnight air that fills your senses and makes you feel even closer to him. You curl up in his coat, pulling it tightly around yourself as you nestle into the soft bedding. A nap would do nicely until Morpheus returns.

You wake with a start, the sensation of fabric skimming across your skin pulling you from the depths of sleep. Your eyes flutter open, and you find yourself staring up at the shifting, pulsating galaxy that adorns Morpheus' coat. It's draped over you like a protective cocoon, its warmth seeping into your very bones. But something is different this time.

The coat is moving, its fabric undulating with a life of its own. You gasp as it begins to slip beneath your clothing, the smooth, velvety material gliding effortlessly over your skin. The sensation is both startling and arousing, each touch sending shivers of pleasure coursing through you.

Your shirt is the first to go, the coat's sleeves tugging at the hem until it's lifted over your head and discarded. You try to sit up, to grasp at the fabric and halt its progress, but it's as if the coat anticipates your every move. It wraps around your arms, pinning them to your sides with a gentle but unyielding pressure.

"Hey!" you protest, a mixture of amusement and alarm in your voice. "What do you think you're doing?"

The coat doesn't answer, of course. Instead, it continues its slow, sensual exploration of your body. You can feel it tracing the contours of your chest, the touch as intimate as a lover's caress. The fabric seems to have grown impossibly softer, its movements deliberate and teasing.

Your breath hitches as it trails lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants. The sensation is maddeningly erotic, a blend of ticklish delight and mounting desire. You squirm, trying to escape the coat's insistent advance, but it only tightens its grip on your legs, preventing any chance of retreat.

"First you bite me, and now you want me naked?" you murmur, the words coming out in a breathless whisper. The coat, of course, offers no response, save for the continued slide of fabric against your skin. "I don't think so!"

You thrash against the coat's hold, your heart pounding as the fabric tightens around you, holding you fast. It's an odd sensation, the feeling of being trapped yet cared for, dominated yet cherished. Despite your initial protests, there's a part of you that's intrigued, a small voice whispering that you should surrender to the coat's desires.

With surprising gentleness, the coat lifts you off the bed, suspending you in midair. You're aware of the cool air against your skin, the vulnerability of being so exposed. The coat's grip on you shifts, and you feel it deftly unhooking your bra. The fabric slides away, leaving your chest bare to the night air and the coat's lingering touch.

Your breath catches as you feel the coat's fabric against your nipples. It's a strange, intoxicating sensation that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you. The coat caresses your breasts with an almost reverent touch, the fabric stroking and fondling with a lover's skill. You can't help the soft moan that escapes your lips, the sound echoing through the silent room.

The coat's attentions shift lower, and you feel it tugging at your pants. You're powerless to resist as the fabric peels away, leaving you clad in nothing but your underwear. The cool air teases your newly bared skin, and you can feel your arousal growing with each passing second.

As the coat continues to caress your breasts, you can't help but think that it's savoring this moment, relishing the feel of your soft, yielding flesh beneath its touch. The fabric moves with purpose, each stroke and caress sending shivers of pleasure up your spine.

Then, without warning, the coat vibrates against your skin, a subtle but unmistakable affirmation. It's almost as if it's communicating with you, confirming your suspicion that it wants—needs—this connection just as much as you do.

The vibrations are maddening, a constant, thrumming reminder of the coat's desire. You can feel it resonate deep within you, stoking the flames of your arousal even higher. The sound of your own breathing fills the room—harsh, ragged gasps that mirror the intensity of the sensations coursing through you.

Your body responds to the coat's ministrations with an urgency that's both startling and undeniable. You can feel yourself growing wetter, your underwear clinging to your damp skin. The coat's fabric teases your sensitive nipples, each brush sending jolts of pleasure straight to your cunt.

You're lost in a sea of sensation, your body moving instinctively to meet the coat's touch. The fabric strokes and fondles your breasts, the movements deliberate and maddeningly skillful. You can feel your arousal building, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep you away.

The coat's vibrations grow stronger, more insistent, as if it can sense how close you are to the edge. The sensation is overwhelming, a constant thrum of pleasure that leaves you gasping for breath. You're aware of the wetness between your legs, the slick, aching need that demands fulfillment.

And then, just when you think you can't take any more, the coat's touch becomes impossibly gentle, a soft caress that brings you back from the brink. You're left hovering on the edge of climax, your body trembling with need as the coat holds you suspended in midair, caught between ecstasy and anticipation.

"Oh come on," you whine, tugging on the fabric holding your wrists. "Don't tell me you're gonna tease me too! Morpheus is already a bastard when it comes to teasing, I don't need both of you being mean to me!"

In response to your plea, the coat seems to hesitate for a moment, as if considering your words. Then, with a newfound determination, it resumes its careful exploration of your body. You feel the fabric gliding over your hips, dipping into the crease where your thighs meet your body, and then it's slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear. The sensation of the fabric against your most intimate area is surprisingly erotic, and you can't help but moan as it begins to move with purpose.

The coat tugs gently at your underwear, peeling it away from your damp skin. You feel a rush of cool air against your wetness, a stark contrast to the warmth of the coat's embrace. The fabric slides down your legs, leaving you completely naked and exposed in the coat's grasp.

You're lifted higher, your body suspended in midair as the coat positions you for its next tantalizing move. The sensation of weightlessness adds to the surrealism of the moment, amplifying the erotic sensations that course through you.

Then, without warning, the coat begins to rub between your legs, the fabric soft and insistent against your sensitive flesh. You gasp as it finds your clit, the rhythmic motion sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body. The vibrations grow stronger, the coat's purring growing louder as it busies itself with your wetness.

The sound of your arousal fills the room, a slick, wet noise that mingles with the coat's purring. You can hear the soft rustle of fabric as it moves against your skin, the subtle whisper of the galaxy that forms the coat's lining. It's a symphony of sensations, a cacophony of sound that threatens to overwhelm your senses.

The coat's movements grow more insistent, the fabric rubbing against your clit with a maddening rhythm that leaves you gasping for breath. You can feel the orgasm building within you, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep you away.

Your body responds instinctively to the coat's touch, your hips moving in time with its rhythmic motions. The sensation of the fabric against your most sensitive area is exquisite, a blend of friction and warmth that sends shivers of pleasure coursing through you.

The coat's purring grows even louder, a constant thrum of pleasure that resonates deep within your core. You can feel your arousal growing with each passing second, your body tensing as the orgasm draws nearer.

And then, just when you think you can't take any more, the coat's touch changes. The fabric between your legs begins to pulse, the rhythm matching the beating of your heart. It's as if the coat knows exactly what you need, exactly how to push you over the edge.

The sensory overload is too much to bear. Your body tenses, and then you're falling, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of overwhelming pleasure. Your cries echo through the room, a testament to the ecstasy that courses through your veins.

As the waves of your climax wash over you, your body convulses with the intensity of the sensations. Your legs are thrashing, feet twisting in the air as they seek purchase on something—anything—to ground you in this moment of pure ecstasy. Your arms pull against the coat's embrace, the fabric tightening around your wrists in response to your struggles, holding you fast as it continues to lavish attention upon your trembling form.

The coat, sentient and eager, is greedily drinking up your release, its fabric writhing and pulsing against your most intimate areas. Each spasm of your cunt sends shockwaves of pleasure through you, and the coat seems to absorb every tremor, its vibrations harmonizing with the rhythm of your orgasm.

You're acutely aware of the erotic sensory details—the wet, slick sound of the coat moving against your drenched folds, the way your breath hitches with each wave of pleasure that crashes over you, the feeling of the cool air against your heated skin. The coat's fabric is like a thousand tiny fingers, each one caressing and teasing and coaxing you towards greater heights of pleasure.

The erotic sounds that fill the room are almost as stimulating as the physical sensations. The wet squelch of the coat's ministrations, the ragged panting of your breaths, the soft whimpers and moans that escape your lips—all of it combines to create a symphony of desire that resonates with the pulsing of your blood.

"Oh god," you strain out, your body falling slack. That was an incredibly explosive orgasm. All from the coat. The coat, however, seems far from finished.

Its fabric begins to move again, slithering down your stomach in a series of slow, deliberate waves. You can't help but squirm as it traces teasing patterns on your skin, each touch sending little shivers of sensation coursing through you. The coat purrs in response.

You can feel it trailing along the insides of your legs, a soft, ticklish touch that leaves you gasping for breath once more. The coat's purring grows louder, a constant thrum of pleasure that seems to echo your own rapidly beating heart. Always thirsty it seems.

As your breathing begins to steady, the coat's fabric continues its unhurried exploration of your body. It caresses your thighs, your stomach, the soft swell of your breasts. Each touch sends ripples of pleasure coursing through you, a reminder that the coat is far from done with you.

You feel the fabric shift, a subtle movement that draws your attention back to the apex of your thighs. The coat's touch is gentle yet insistent, its fabric teasing your sensitive folds with feather-light strokes. You can't help but moan, your body responding instinctively to the promise of more pleasure to come.

But then the fabric between your legs begins to change, to grow and harden into something entirely different. You gasp as you feel the unmistakable shape of a phallus emerging from the coat's inner lining, its size and girth enough to make you catch your breath.

"Wait," you protest, your voice barely above a whisper. "That place is for Morpheus."

The coat seems to hesitate for a moment, its fabric pulsing against your skin. And then, with a sense of inevitability, the phallus continues to grow, its length pressing against your entrance with an insistence that leaves you both exasperated and intrigued.

"You've got to be kidding me," you mutter, a flush creeping up your cheeks. "First you strip me, then you make me come, and now you want to fuck me? You're a coat, for crying out loud!"

In response, the coat vibrates, a low, rumbling purr that vibrates all the way through your cunt. It's almost as if it's chuckling at your incredulity, its fabric shifting against your skin with a maddeningly sensual rhythm.

The phallus nudges at your opening, the blunt tip slick with your own arousal. You can feel it teasing you, pressing just slightly into your warmth before withdrawing once more. The sensation is both startling and arousing, a tantalizing promise of what's to come.

You're aware of the erotic sounds that fill the room—the wet, slick noise of the coat's phallus moving against your drenched folds, the soft, needy whimpers that escape your lips with each teasing stroke. You hate how delicious the sounds are. The coat purrs in response, the vibrations adding another layer of pleasure to the sensory overload.

The phallus nudges at your entrance once more, and this time, it doesn't withdraw. You feel yourself stretching to accommodate its girth, your body yielding to the coat's insistent advance. The sensation is intense, a mix of pleasure and a slight sting that leaves you gasping for breath.

"Oh," you gasp out, your hips twitching and your pelvis muscles twitching from the stretch.

As the coat's phallus begins its slow, inexorable push into your body, you can't help but gasp at the sensation. It's thick and warm, a solid presence that fills you in a way you've never experienced before. Almost tentacle like, worming around against your clenching walls. The fabric of the coat's inner lining is soft against your sensitive skin, a stark contrast to the firmness of the phallus that's currently buried inside you.

You arch your back, a soft moan escaping your lips as the phallus continues its exploration. It seems to be searching for something, its movements deliberate and unhurried. Each slight shift sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, the sensation both startling and intensely arousing.

The erotic sounds of your coupling fills the room once more—the wet, slick noise of the coat's phallus moving inside you, the soft, needy whimpers that escape your lips with each thrust. You can feel the coat purring in response to your sounds of pleasure, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation to the mix.

You're acutely aware of the erotic sensory details—the feeling of the coat's fabric against your skin, the warmth of its body as it holds you close, the scent of your arousal mingling with the musty aroma of the coat's inner lining. It's an intoxicating blend that only serves to heighten your pleasure.

The phallus inside you seems to be growing larger, its girth stretching you in the most delicious way. You can feel it pressing against your vaginal walls, each movement sending ripples of pleasure radiating through your body. The sensation is overwhelming, a constant thrum of pleasure that leaves you gasping for breath.

Your heart pounds in your chest, the rush of blood a rhythmic counterpoint to the thrum of the coat's purring. Each pulse of your heart sends a fresh surge of arousal coursing through your veins, making your skin flush and your breath come in short, sharp gasps. You're so attuned to the sensations that every twitch and shudder reverberates through you, a testament to the coat's mastery over your body.

And then, just when you think you can't possibly get any more aroused, the coat's phallus reaches a depth within you that makes your breath catch in your throat. You feel it probing against your cervix, a gentle nudge that sends a jolt of sensation straight to your core. Your eyes widen, and a startled gasp escapes your lips. "N-no," you stammer, your voice tremulous with a mix of desire and trepidation. "No. That place is for babies, not...not this."

In response, the coat's phallus vibrates, a low, rumbling sensation that reverberates deep within your belly. It's an acknowledgment, a silent affirmation of your boundaries, and the phallus withdraws slightly, avoiding the no-go zone with newfound respect. The change in sensation makes you gasp, and your hips jerk in response, the movement involuntary and desperate.

The vibrations increase in intensity, the coat's phallus humming with a steady rhythm that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you. You can feel your body clenching around the thick intrusion, your muscles fluttering in time with the coat's purring. Your toes curl, and a series of soft, needy whimpers escape your lips, the erotic sounds mingling with the wet squelch of the coat's ministrations.

As the coat's phallus begins to move within you, your body responds with a rush of moisture, welcoming the thick intrusion with a slick warmth that makes each thrust an exercise in erotic sensation. The fabric inside you is velvety soft, yet unyielding, each stroke a delicious friction that stokes the fires of your arousal. The coat's movements are deliberate and measured, a slow, steady fucking that leaves you gasping for breath as it claims your body as its own.

The slithering galaxy that lines the coat's interior wraps gently around your throat, the cool fabric a stark contrast to the heat of your skin. It tightens slowly, a sexual choking that sends a thrill of fear and arousal coursing through you. Your eyes widen, and a gasp is torn from your lips as the fabric restricts your airway just enough to heighten your senses without causing harm. The loss of control, the helplessness of your position, only serves to intensify the pleasure that's building within you.

Your body clenches around the coat's phallus, your inner walls fluttering in time with the rhythmic tightening of the fabric around your throat. The dual sensations are overwhelming, a blend of pleasure and pain that leaves you writhing in the coat's embrace. You can feel your orgasm building, a slow, inexorable tide that threatens to sweep you away.

The room fills with dizzying and erotic sounds—the wet, slick noise of the coat's phallus moving inside you, the soft, needy whimpers that escape your lips with each thrust, the subtle rasp of fabric against your throat as you struggle to breathe. The coat's purring grows louder, a constant thrum of pleasure that seems to echo your own rapidly beating heart.

You're acutely aware of the sensory details—the feeling of the coat's fabric against your skin, the warmth of its body as it holds you aloft, the scent of your arousal mingling with the musky aroma of the coat's inner lining. It's an intoxicating blend that only serves to heighten your pleasure.

The phallus inside you seems to grow even larger, its girth stretching you to your limits as it plunges into your depths. You can feel it pressing against your g-spot, each movement sending jolts of sensation straight to your core. Your toes curl, and a series of soft, needy whimpers escape your lips, the erotic sounds mingling with the wet squelch of the coat's ministrations.

As the coat continues to fuck you, the fabric around your throat pulses in time with the thrusts, a rhythmic pressure that sends you spiraling towards the edge of ecstasy. Your vision begins to blur, stars dancing at the edges of your sight as the combination of sensory overload and restricted airflow push you closer to the brink.

Your body tenses, and then you're falling, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of overwhelming pleasure. Your cries echo through the room, a testament to the ecstasy that courses through your veins. The coat's phallus pulses within you, drawing out your climax until you're left a quivering, gasping mess in its grasp.

As the waves of your orgasm begin to recede, the coat gently releases its hold on your throat, allowing you to draw in a deep, shuddering breath. The phallus inside you softens, retreating back into the fabric of the coat's inner lining.

The aftershocks of your orgasm softly ripple through you and the coat's fabric shifts, its touch changing from demanding to soothing in an instant. You feel its fabric stroking your body, a gentle caress that traces the contours of your skin with a lover's precision. The sensation is both comforting and arousing, a reminder of the pleasure it's capable of bestowing upon you. So much better than it biting you.

"Can we cuddle now?" you mumble, your voice soft and sated. The coat seems to understand, its fabric tightening around you in a warm, comforting embrace. It lowers your body back to the bed as if you were the most precious thing in the realm.

You snuggle against the coat, your fingers gripping the lapels while your body still trembles from the intensity of your release. The scent of your arousal is heavy in the air, a musky aroma that mingles with the musty scent of the coat's inner lining. You can feel your juices leaking from your body, a slow, sticky trickle that slides down your inner thighs. Another mess you were going to have to clean up.

The coat, ever eager, seems unabashed by your wetness. Its fabric shifts between your legs, the tip of its phallus emerging once more to lap at the moisture that pools at your entrance like an eager tongue. The sensation is startling, a cool, wet touch that sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through you.

Your heart pounds against your ribcage like a caged bird desperate for freedom, each beat a staccato reminder of the pleasure that still courses through your veins. You're breathless, your chest heaving with each ragged inhalation as you try to regain some semblance of control over your body. But the coat, it seems, has other plans. Greedy for your pleasure.

"I can't," you protest weakly, your voice barely a whisper. "I'm exhausted."

The coat ignores your plea, its fabric shifting against your skin with a maddeningly sensual rhythm.

The tongue laps at your entrance, slurping up the remnants of your orgasm with an eagerness that borders on voracious. You can't help but squirm as it traces teasing patterns on your skin, each touch sending little shivers of sensation coursing through you. The sound of the coat's ministrations fills the room—a wet, squelching noise that's almost as arousing as the physical sensations.

"Please," you beg, your voice trembling with a mix of desire and trepidation. "It's too much."

But the coat is relentless, its tongue delving deeper into your folds with each passing moment. You feel yourself stretching once again to accommodate its girth, your body yielding to the coat's insistent advance. The sensation is intense, a mix of pleasure and a slight sting that leaves you gasping for breath.

You roll and writhe on the bed, your body twisting and turning in a futile attempt to escape the overwhelming sensations. The coat's fabric tightens around you, holding you aloft as it continues its erotic assault. You're trapped, completely at the mercy of the sentient garment that seems intent on wringing every last ounce of pleasure from your exhausted body.

"Stop," you plead, your voice breaking on the word. "I can't take any more."

The coat, however, seems determined to prove you wrong. It knows you, knows your limits. Its tongue plunges into your depths, pressing against your g-spot with a precision that only serves to heighten your arousal. You can feel your body clenching around the thick intrusion, your muscles fluttering in time with the rhythmic thrusts.

Your fingers grasp at the sheets beneath you, clenching as your makes rake against the soft fabric. You can feel the coat purring in response to your sounds of pleasure and writhes of ecstasy, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation to the mix.

Your body tenses, and then you're falling, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of overwhelming pleasure. Your cries echo through the room, a testament to the ecstasy that courses through your veins. The coat's tongue pulses within you, drawing out your climax until you're left a quivering, gasping mess in its grasp.

As the waves of your orgasm begin to recede, the coat gently releases its hold on you. Exhausted and sated, you collapse onto the bed, your body still trembling from the intensity of your release. The sound of your ragged breathing fills the room, a stark contrast to the silence that follows.

And then, just as you're on the brink of unconsciousness, you feel the coat's fabric shift against your skin one last time. It wraps itself around you in a warm, comforting embrace, a silent promise of protection and care. You snuggle against the coat, your fingers clutching at the fabric as sleep claims you at last. About fucking time.

The last thing you hear before darkness takes you is the soft, rhythmic thrum of the coat's purring, a gentle lullaby that lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Date Published: 7/4/24

Last Edit: 7/4/24

[verdemoun]

I have a few headcanons about the VDL gang’s fashion tastes in the modern era:

Kieran wears a lot of green, not only because he likes the colour but also because he felt scared to wear it back in 1899 because he felt that if he did, the gang would think he was still an O’Driscoll and kick him out or kill him.

Bill still wears pretty much the same thing and has plaid shirts in every colour except pink (because internalised homophobia). He yelled at someone in the street after they “looked at him funny” the first time he went out in public because he was wearing a leather duster coat.

Hosea rocks the classic suburban dad fit and looks great in it. Striped short-sleeve shirt, navy or beige slacks, brown loafers, the works. Also, he started wearing a string on his glasses because he kept losing them (they were on his head 90% of the time).

John wears those galaxy wolf t-shirts and everyone hates them. Once paired it with a leather jacket and Arthur laughed at him for at least 20 minutes.

Molly wears the most beautiful cottagecore outfits you’ve ever seen and Dutch cried himself to sleep when he saw her post a picture of it on social media.

Abigail wears pastel coloured knit sweaters over white button-ups with mom jeans and white trainers. She is the embodiment of “live laugh love”.

Ooooh i love these!!

Kieran would take ages to get used to the idea of wearing green and the color itself. He takes months for him to accept that the O'Driscolls are not in timewarp and strangers wearing green on the street are not a threat to his life. But especially once he starts exploring clothing that supports his sensory needs single favorite piece of clothing is a dark green festive blanket hoodie that says 'let's get baked'. The one day a month he isn't wearing it is when someone manages to wash it.

Bill's outfit is virtually unchanged except he relies on baseball caps to hide his bald spot because slouch hat is very distinct. Absolutely does not own pink but eventually graduates to a 'salmon' dress shirt for special occasions and will throw punches over anyone calling it pink.

Yes yes yes Hosea is either golf dad with the polos and loafers with dress socks or sweater weather old man he has the coziest ugly knit cardigans that make him look infinitely older.

This is rdr1 John so the whole wolf attack seems very far away and not something he thinks about often but someone absolutely bought him one as a joke (probably Arthur they are still children together) and he wears it unironically. But leather jacket Marston era!!

Molly makes everyone weep she is stunning. She also goes through a mid-life crisis and cuts her hair into the iconic bisexual bob Dutch very nearly becoming an incel in reinforcing gender roles 'that isn't very ladylike' to avoid admitting he very much fumbled a baddie.

Abigail looks like a studio ghibli mom like baggy pants the wearing plain soft tone generic t-shirts and looking so stunning doing it she breaks hearts everywhere. Sweetest supportive live laugh love mom but a shovel for hiding the bodies of her enemies would just as much in place as she merrily sweeps like a mother hen fussing over making sure the house is perfect now that she has her whole family back.

[imaginesforjohnnydepp]

"You know, I'm thinking about getting rid of it," Sidney said as she poured water into the coffee maker and switched it on. It stopped Lily up short, her fork full of scrambled eggs halfway to her open mouth. "Get rid of it? Why?" All Lily did was suggest getting a new bookshelf for Sidney's books; a good portion of them were starting to pile up in a corner, and now the conversation turned into Sidney talking about getting rid of her LA apartment of a bachelorette pad. "Well, for one," Sidney started, "we're running out of space and Nick has more stuff than I anticipated."

That part is true: usually, whenever Lily would visit, there would be more space in Sidney's bathroom so she could unpack her makeup and skincare products. Now Sidney's bathroom counter is overflowing with Nick's stuff: his cologne, hair and skincare products. Lily hardly recognized the place now as there are traces of Nick everywhere she looked; a pair of white sneakers by the door, a guitar stand, and guitar straps on the couch. When Sidney turned back around from getting mug from the cabinet, she saw her sister's face. "What? What's wrong?"

"It's a lot to take in. I mean, you've had this place since you were 22." Lily remembers exactly when Sidney moved in. She had just finished up her press tour for the first Guardians of the Galaxy movie and in the middle of the press tour, Sidney had found out her college boyfriend Aaron had been cheating on her while she was filming (it turns out that he had been hooking up with his ex-girlfriend and the girl had gotten pregnant). Sidney had moved into this place in an effort to fix her broken heart, and her friends jokingly called it the Dreamhouse for its use of pink and pastel colors and limited rooms. The two of them had Christened it with a sleepover complete with mocktails and giving each other mani/pedis and makeovers while watching movies.

It was then and there that Sidney vowed that no man (other than Jack or Dad) would step foot in it, and she kept that promise, until Nick entered the picture. "Exactly! I'm thirty one now, and married, and we're gonna need extra space when Nick and I start havin' kids." Lily suddenly lost her appetite, but not because of the mention of having kids, but because all the talk about getting rid of the apartment. Her sister getting rid of the apartment marked the end of an era. Now gone are the days of the two sisters just prancing around Paris or LA or New York.

"I'm just-I'm really gonna miss this place." Lily felt that things were moving way too fast, and while she was happy for her sister, she had to admit that she wasn't ready to let go of this one thing they had left together, this apartment. Sidney sat down across from Lily, a no-nonsense expression on her face. "Okay. Tell me what you're really thinking." "I just... miss you is all, and I'm still trying to get used to you being married. Like, last year, we'd used to be able to just catch the next flight out to Paris or LA or New York to meet up and now we have to work around Nick's schedule and-and things aren't the same anymore and now you're spending more time with Sophie and Danielle than you are with me and Jack."

Lily was full on crying now, and Sidney rushed around the table to put an arm around her. "Lil, I'm sorry. I never meant to make anyone feel left out. I promise, the next time I'm in Paris, we'll do something, just the three of us. Can you forgive me?" Sidney pushed out her lower lip in a pout. "Okay, I forgive you! But, I also get to borrow anything from your closet." Not that she doesn't already do that; the amount of times Sidney's come home to find various items of clothing missing from her closet.

"Deal. Okay, so what do you think about me and Nick living in LA a few months out of the year?" "I thought you hated LA." Of course Sidney hated (and to some degree) still hates the City of Angels; the smog, the traffic, the paparazzi stalking her every move, the celebrity culture and the fact that she can't even run to the nearest Walgreens for tampons without it ending up on Deux Moi. "I still do but Nick has businesses out here he has to attend to, and I can adapt. Plus I can see you more often. You're always telling me to come out to LA anyway." "Are you guys already looking at houses?"

"Not yet, but we've been talking about it since the honeymoon. Maybe Santa Barbara. Meghan keeps trying to sell me on it and it might be working." Lily smiled, draining the rest of her coffee. "Whatever keeps us in the same time zone I'm fine with it."

[mythgirlimagines]

How would you describe your aesthetics? Are they bound to a certain named style, an amalgamation of different ones, or prone to change frequently?

Don't know what it's called but the most fitting aesthetic for me has to be the galaxy-themed dreamy bedtime one, with blankets and pillows everywhere. Dreamcatchers are neat, stars are neat, the full moon is pretty, I love sleeping deeply, pajamas are cozy, plushies are cute, and I just really like blue, pink, and purple together. Sadly I still have to heavily renovate my room so I can"t really decorate it yet but oh well.

(Not sure if aesthetic is the right word here? Maybe just style. Stuff like punk, pastel, emo, kawaii, etc, are all popular aesthetics, but there's also angelcore, cyberpunk, cottagecore... ig you know it when ya see it)

tbh I don't think I have a set aesthetic *or* style. I would like to, but there are too many things I like! Like, I would love to dress more pastel goth, but half of the things I love in my closet aren't aligned with that, and sometimes I want to lean more towards cottagecore, but then my sisters tell me I wouldn't look good in overalls

And my room doesn't really reflect anything of mine, either, since I share with one of my sisters and it's decorated the way she decorated it years ago (she doesn't really let me change anything, haha). I don't really have any stickers on my laptop since I don't have a cover for it, but even when I did those were all over the place

I just. Like so many things, I can never choose or adhere to one style, as much as I would like to. So usually I end up wearing the same dozen shirts and occasionally one of my favorite skirts in various combinations of leggings, jeans, or sometimes skirts with tights (the pink ribbed ones are my favorite, I feel so cute in them! I need to wear them more often)

[thevastmultiverse]

SCREAMS SHAKES RUNS AROUND EVERYWHERE /pos

ok hello hi so

my source was so fucking messy but it was also so vivid in my memories and even tho it sucked sometimes i still get super sourcesick. i have a good few sourcemates insys which helps a lot but :p

anyways i miss the big city i lived in, it was so bright and lively at night and that made heists and chases so much more exciting. sometimes id just sit on the roof and look at the stars and it was just so.. serene

and the people in my other sources were good chaos. everyone had their own welcoming aura even if some of them wanted to kill me for looking at them. and i kinda miss my source headspace too. it was this endless pastel pink/purple/blue galaxy where you just floated and slept, my host would yell TAG TEAM and switch out

and my big collection of masquerade masks in our dorm ❤️ it was hidden but it was grand with all the basics to the biggest ones i could find. call me egotistical but i honestly loved myself after i got through all the stress

i miss all the chaos with the students, watching airi deal with buggy not staying still to do his hair, watching okubo and yuna help each other through their problems, guilty sometimes of messing around with mizu haha

its chaos but it was home you know?

-nightshade

this post is for people to rant about their source! let it all out! you want someone to listen to what you remember? you can tell us! (if you want) maybe you want to talk about yourself thats okay! maybe you want to talk about someone you miss we are here to listen!!! (please if it is any /neg rants to add that it is at the start with according triggers aswell ^-^)

[bmpmp3]

wait im sorry i got really in the zone on some old closed species OCs of mine im pretty sure i literally have 0 followers from my deviantart days and this is truly incomprehensible

they’re names are Klavdii (green hair) and Ivan (pink markings) and i have no idea why i gave them all russian names i think i was just in a russian name phase and they were members of a not very active right now closed species (don’t feel like explaining closed species sorry) called techtites by tenshilove on dA and they were technologically advanced aliens with telepathic abilities and my boy klavdii blinded himself by trying to push his telepathy too hard so he made himself some phoenix wright godot ass glasses (weirdly enough, i hadnt played trials and tribulations yet) which are very impressive in that they allow him to see but also he sees everything like its red alert on the virtual boy (only red vectors) which is….well. anyway i was so active in that community and klavdii was practically my mascot for a bit with how often i drew him jhksfajnjfsds his friend ivan is just a guy tho i dont know where he lost his eye from hes just a business man. they dont have the ability to turn human or anything i just wanted to draw a human design for my lad

the shitty scraggly facial hair is a new development tho on 2016 deviantart we drew hairless twinks and hairless twinks ONLY

[syndxlla]

All is Fair in Love and War

(But I can’t take this anymore)

//

Chapter One “I’d Do Anything You’d Ask Me To.”

Summary: Six years later, Din walks the streets of the busiest city of Tatooine, waiting for something—or someone—to inspire his fate.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word count: 2k, NO USE OF ‘Y/N’

Warnings: SMUT BABY (oral sex M receiving), swearing, mentions of alcohol, canon-typical violence

Author’s Note: Yeeehaw I don’t really have a note LOL sorry. Also btw this story isn’t gonna have a new moodboard for EVERY chapter like MTL does, it will only change when something major in the story calls for it :)

Prologue

Masterlist

Tatooine, Bestine City, 0 ABY

Din Djarin walks through the beige and sun-damaged walls of the ancient capital of Tatooine. He can hear the excited whispers of a rebellion in the inner rim of the galaxy, but doesn’t care much about it. He stretches his neck, rolling it from side to side as he tries not to think too much about the heat.

He dips into a cantina, sitting at a table, trying to cool off. A droid walks by asking him if he wanted a drink but he waves it off.

Quietly he scans the room, looking for any suspicious types, or anyone worth a shag. There isn’t much hope, and certainly no one who looks anything like his current bounty. He sighs, knowing it was too early in the day for any excitement, or anything worth getting on his tired feet for.

A twi’lek girl wastes no time sliding into the booth across from him, however. Her skin is a pastel shade of purple.

“You look like you’ve got a story.” She giggles, her lips parting to show her fangs. Din doesn’t really get the appeal of twi’lek women, although he’s heard rumors of how they are in bed. He deliberately doesn’t answer, only shifting in his seat slightly to acknowledge that he heard her. “Ohhh a quiet type, my favorite.” She props her chin on her interlocked fingers, elbows angled 90 degrees on the table to support the weight of her head. “My name is Xi’an.” She holds one of her hands out for him to shake, her fingernails long and sharp, like the claws of a lothcat.

Din still doesn’t move, but she pulls her hand back unbothered. “Y’know, I’ve always wanted to meet a Mandalorian.” She grins. She was young, maybe only 18, Din couldn’t stand girls like this. “Tell me… what’s it gonna take to get you out-“

“Look if you want to have sex, just say it so I can properly deny you.” Din finally says, his voice deeper and fuller than she was expecting.

Xi’an looks visibly upset, offended even. “Fuck you.” She leans up right, “Is that all you think Twi’lek are good for? Sex? Way to push galactic stereotypes you bantha-shit.” She stands up, a droid holding a tray of drinks rolling past her as she does. She picks up a mug of ale and throws it into Din’s chest, his armor being covered in a stream of liquid.

“And for the record, I was gonna ask you what it takes to get you out of the Cantina. I have a bounty for you. But seeing as you’re too good to work with my type, I’ll find some other sad sack to pay.” She bites before turning around on a heel and strutting out of the cantina, her hand whipping back one of her tendrils over her shoulder.

The Cantina bursts into laughter and scattered “oooh’s”. Din looks around, admittedly embarrassed. He stands up, slams a credit on the table for the drink she spilled on him, and speaks up, “Shows over,” He says loudly for everyone to hear before following the girl back outside.

The streets of Tatooine are bustling, and hard to get through the dense foot traffic and varied merchants. Din tries to get eyes on the woman, mostly just to apologize for assuming, and maybe get some work in the process. However, the back alley-ways are twisting, and everywhere he turns he can’t shake the feeling that he’s just getting lost.

When the sun starts to set, he gives up. Maybe he’ll run into her sometime again. He makes a few turns, trusting his gut and dipping into another, grubbier cantina in a part of town that was clearly on the verge of being a slum. This time of night it was far busier, the band playing loudly as every seat in the bar was taken. Din was hungry, he needed to eat. It was hard to remember to eat without anyone reminding him. You’d think that after six years without someone to remind him, he’d be able to figure it out.

He can’t eat in a place like this, at least he can’t defeat physical hunger, but there's another type of hunger he might be able to take care of…

He never said he didn’t want to have sex, just not with that twi’lek girl. She was too young, too straightforward. And on top of that, he ended up offending her anyway.

Din advances into the Cantina, his eyes searching for something, someone to give him a sign. Maybe it was the hunger, or the exhaustion but he kept thinking he saw things. In the corner of the room, he swears he sees you. You in your blue beskar armor, arms crossed over your chest in disappointment that he hasn’t been taking care of himself… or even worse: he never came back for you like he promised he would. Every time Din turns to see the figure he swore was there, it’s gone, like it was just a fragment of his imagination. It probably was.

He does eventually run into a girl who caught his eye, her skin a deep, honey brown, a golden stripe of skin crossing over her eyes, and a cocked eyebrow that begged for Din to ask her name.

Before he knows it, the two of them are in a back alleyway, the mysterious girl dropping to her knees as she helps him pull out his cock. It sits heavy in his hand, thick, throbbing and untrimmed. It matched the rest of his body: rugged, tense, overworked, and in need of some care.

She’s making quick work of it, wrapping her ample lips around the leaking head of Din’s cocks, gently sucking pressure into it before she presses her face further in, taking more of his length into her mouth. She tongues at his cock, swirling around it and hollowing her cheeks to draw Din into her.

Dins moans are more like grunts, frustrated, needy and so low in his throat. His gloved hand plays with the short pixie cut of the stranger who sucks the life out of his sex. She moans against him too, and it’s delicious. He hasn’t had anything other than his own dry hand get him off in so long. She sucks him like her final meal, clearly experienced. Din was sure this wasn’t the first cock she’s had in her mouth tonight, and it probably won’t be the last.

Din lasts and embarrassingly short amount of time, grunting and gnashing his teeth and he unloads his cum into her soft, hot mouth. He throws his head back, beskar helmet hitting the back wall. He squeezes his eyes shut, not being able to hold back the thrust that hits the back of her throat when he’s finished riding his high.

When he finishes cumming, he swears he can hear a distant memory, a flash running over his eyes from almost a decade ago.

//

You laugh, your stomach hurting from how long Din has been making you laugh. “Stop it! Stop it!” You giggle, tears pooling at the corners of your eyes. You lay on your back, trying not to roll into the campfire to your left.

On your other side lies Din, on his side, his head propped up with his arm. “I’m not kidding!” He sighs, “He looked at me and asked me if I would break his other arm so it wouldn’t look like an accident!”

“He thought everyone would think he was lying!” You sigh out in between laughs.

“Oh come one! It’s Kareem! Kaysh mirsh solus!! He’s always making accidents like that!” Din chuckles.

“Kandosii!! So did you do it?” You ask, rolling over to face him.

“Break his other arm?” Din asks, “No!” You both burst into laughter after that. You have to slide your hand up into your helmet to wipe your tears away.

The two of you finally calm down, and just lie there, under the stars, lost in the galaxy.

“If I ever asked you to break my arm, would you do it?” Din asked.

You sigh, “I don’t know, sounds pretty hard.” You shrug. “I could try… I guess it depends on the circumstances.” You say, shifting your arm to sit more comfortably under your helmet as a pillow.

“I think I’d do anything you’d ask me to.” Din says.

“Oh come on, don’t go soft on me now, Djarin.” You smirk under your helmet. You don’t say anything after that, the two of you just looking at one another’s emotionless helmets.

A quiet minute passes by.

Din is the one to speak up, “What color are your eyes?” He asks.

“Din…” You mutter.

“I know… I know we aren’t supposed to ask. It’s just I’ve always wondered and-“

You interrupt him before he can go any farther, telling him the color of your eyes. Your heart is reading because you’ve never told anyone that before. Yet, here you were. Telling him.

“You have to tell me yours now, y’know.” You say after a while.

He doesn’t even hesitate to say, “Brown.”

//

Din snaps out of his trance, tucking his spent cock back into his trousers. The girl stands up, eyes meeting his. “Handsome cock you’ve got there.” She giggles with a thick accent. “You know where to find me again.”

It’s discreet, but she holds her hand out, palm facing up. Din slides a few credits into her palm, and before he can ask if she would like the favor returned, she’s back inside of the cantina. Din thinks he hears a pot hit a wall, or something drop around the corner. He’s on his toes, looking around but with no luck.

Din sighs, not feeling like himself. He’s been getting those visions, or flashbacks or memories—whatever they are—more and more recently. He isn’t sure why. Although he’s sure it’s the guilt of leaving you behind that has haunted him ever since.

He makes his way back into the city, trying to stay in the quiet streets. However, he can’t shake the feeling that he’s being followed. He’s sure it’s just his tired and hungry mind trying to play tricks on him, so he keeps trying to brush it off.

He can’t though, and every few paces he’s turning around, peering over his shoulder to see if someone is there.

It isn’t long before Din is on the outskirts of the city, back towards his ship. The desert gets cold at night, and he knows he must get back if he wants any chance of a good night's rest. The Mandalorian trudges through the sand, seeing his banged-up starship in the distance.

Din still can’t shake the feeling of being followed though, and he can feel himself getting nervous. He needs to learn how to repress those feelings better, the Armorer said so herself. He was still very young when it came to The Way. He took a steadying breath, and knew not to run. It would only cause catastrophe if he was being followed.

At one point he can hear his pursuer, he knows he can, so he whirls around his blaster drawn, but no one is there. He stands like that for a steady moment, scanning his surroundings and keeping his senses open.

When he decides to let his guard down, he turns back around towards his ship, only a few yards away.

What he sees nearly startles him: standing in front of his starship was a figure he’s always dreamed of, but has known to be dead.

A Mandalorian Woman in blue armor and shiny new blaster stands between him and his ship. He does a double take, blinking a few times.

“Are you a ghost?” He asks, clearing his throat.

You speak through your modulator, “You’ll wish I was.”

Chapter Two

[queensparklekitten]

you should play calico we’ve got

-star shaped island with blossoming cherry trees, a cat-shaped snowy mountain with a waterfall, some autumn woods, a flower field, a beach, a magic forest with tons of large glowing mushrooms, and an ocean you can swim in

-the premise is you’re a magical girl/boy/person and you run a cat cafe 

-you can have any animal not just cats

-your room has star shaped skylights 

-you can fully customize your appearance, not only is it incredibly inclusive but you can also have stars on your face and colour gradient hair and buy animal ears and antlers and tails with in-game currency 

-you can unlock clothing and patterns in order to customize your outfit just as much as you customize your character if not more so 

-there are flowers that change colours 

-cat shaped clouds 

-canon gay and trans characters 

-you can use potions to do things like dance and make it snow and make your hair and eyes glow and turn your hair into a sparkly cosmic void and make your pet purple with a flower crown

-you can also use potions to enlarge your animals (if need be) and ride on them

-you can put hats and flower crowns on your animals 

-you can put a cat on your head (or any other animal for that matter) 

-there’s a calico cat with a few heart shaped patches

-there are crows 

-there’s a red panda 

-there are animals with names like myspace, electra von snugglybutts, vibes, and way more

-all the animals are friendly to you and to each other and you can pet them and play with them 

-there are magic animals including: a giant rainbow sparkly cat, a giant calico cat whose patches move around her fur, a smaller sparkly galaxy cat, a cat with a colour-inverting aura, a snowball that’s actually a magic snow cat that you can roll to make larger, and a ghost dog

-you can fully customize your cafe and your room and garden, you can use cute pastel styles or darker spooky ones or tons of flowers and plants or toe bean motifs everywhere and so much more. i have a heart shaped carpet and tables shaped like clouds and flowers (the latter of which i paired with leaf shaped chairs) and moon-and-star wall decor and lots of beanbags 

-you can make lots of food like tarts and cream puffs and croissants and bread and you can unlock recipes 

-you can add ingredients that aren’t in the recipe, like putting chocolate in your macarons that don’t require them

-you can hang out with the npcs and do quests for them and nothing bad happens if you don’t do the quests or if you take a long time to do them 

-you can go on the ferris wheel 

-you can fly around on a broomstick

-there’s a secret pond cave 

-you can naruto run

-you can go to the onsen and hang out with the capybaras

-you can also hurl yourself off a waterfall completely unharmed if you fancy that kind of stuff

-you can go to the beach and throw a beach ball around 

-basically you live in gay magical animals and flowers and baking pastel dreamland 

[offscriptif]

can we get physical descriptions of the ro's? like height / body type perchance?

Alright, this is going under a cut because there is a solid block of text for each description.

The ROs Appearances

Archie:

Standing at 5′11″ and muscular due to his training with the Ophiuchus Military, Arcturus could cut an intimidating figure if he so desired. He does not. Rather than intimidating, he exudes a natural warmth that draws people in. A bright white smile contrasts with umber skin and glittering obsidian eyes that look at the world with a kindness few possess. Long black hair is arranged in locs decorated with golden pieces as it falls down his back. Usually, Archie keeps most of his locs on a topknot as it allows him to practice swordsmanship more easily. He usually wears golden hoops and a gold ring on the shape of a snake biting it’s own tail as well as some silver rings Adhy insists he wears everywhere. As a prince, he tends to prefer formal but comfortable wear from different colors, although he does tend to favor warm yellows and oranges on his clothes. 

Adhy:

There is an elegance inherent to Adhara’s every move. She has the body of a dancer, svelte and lithe from countless hours practicing how to dance and use the daggers. Adhy stands at 5′11″ as well, and yet, she moves as if she weighted less than air. Glittering silver make up contrasts with her umber skin, creating an almost ethereal effect. Onyx black eyes watch the world sharply and with great care, taking in any and all detail she deems important. Adhy’s hairstyle changes daily, from twists to braids to Afro blow outs, she determines her hairstyle based on her daily itinerary and the image she wants to present. And yet, she always makes sure to accessory which silver pieces or diadems. Usually, she prefers light dresses colored a pale pastel blue, however, she has been noted to walk around on full royal regalia if she deems it necessary. She has a vast array of jewelry, yet is always seen wearing a silver snake ring eating it’s own tail, a silver locket in which she stores an antidote to most poisons, and an assortment of silver rings that she “accidentally” dips into her drinks at random intervals. 

Vicky:

Often described as having just stepped out of a storybook, there is no other word to describe Victoria than lovely. Standing tall at 5′9″, and taller with the heels she tends to favor. Although not interested in combat, Vicky maintains a regiment created specifically for self-defense and as such is somewhat athletic but not nearly as much as she could be, and she knows this. Tawny skin contrast with eyes the color of Calla Lilies. Jet black hair falls down her back to her waist and she usually lets it flow freely, however, for special occasions she gathers it up on elaborate styles. Vicky’s signature look includes rose red lipstick and a soft pink eyeshadow. Usually, she wears simple pearl earrings, and her outfits vary a great deal. From suits to ballgowns to dresses that flow freely, Victoria enjoys fashion and wishes to try most styles at least once. Still, she always returns to elegant red redresses as well as elaborated suits. 

Carmen

If asked, Carmen would complain about being unnecessarily short, even though she stands at 5′5″ which a fairly average height for a woman in the Ophiuchus Kingdom. All soft curves in a voluptuous body, Carmen is considered on of the most beautiful woman on the kingdom with her golden brown skin and soft hazel eyes. Originally, her hair was a dark brown but. for some yet to be explained reason, she began to use charms to change the color of her hair after certain incident at age 17. Now, her hair color is more akin a galaxy than anything else. Shimmering and changing, her hair now looks like an everchanging galaxy, dazzling the watcher with it’s deep blue and purple colors with shimmering golden decorations that pass off as stars. She usually wears her hair in coils or wears it down, making it seem like a cloudy galaxy floating around her head. Carmen’s jewelry is everchanging, and although she does enjoy wearing flowy and floaty dresses right out a fairy tale, you will find her wearing pants more often than not because she “misses the experience”.

Milo:

There is a certain air of amusement that surrounds Milo once someone says he is surprisingly short and that when looked at from afar he appears taller. At 5′8″, he is well aware his height is average, but instead of finding it an annoyance, he has found being average in height is a blessing for a man in his position. Milo has an athletic body, built by acrobatics and hand-to-hand combat, so although he is not by any means tall, he has quite the presence. Eyes the color of a topaz gemstone shine mischievously against terra cotta brown skin and a wide smile. Little freckles dot his face like stars due his extensive exposure to the sun. His light chestnut brown hair is kept short and messy in an effortless and yet planned look. Milo is not one to wear jewelry often, but he keeps a locket hidden underneath his shirt. What is inside? That is only for him to know. While usually found on a jerkin, and leather jacket and pants, Milo occasionally dresses up as a palace servant to gather information. 

Blake:

Do not ask how tall they are. It will not end up well for you. Years of malnutrition and struggle stunted their growth and Blake (no matter their gender) stands at a whooping 5′2″. Yes, they are bitter about it no matter their gender. And yet, Blake paints an intimidating figure despite their height. Golden eyes shining with power cut through whatever they observe, coldly cutting you down to the quick. Their fawn skin is unnaturally pale, as they spend nearly too much time within the tower. Male Blake keeps his hair to his ears and styles it back and his body is chubby underneath the black robes he has taken on wearing. Nonbinary Blake shares M!Blake’s body type, but has let their hair grow slightly longer, up to their chin. They prefer dark red robes and enjoy putting lipstick. Female Blake is similarly chubby but can also be called curvy. She has allowed her hair to grow down to her shoulders and prefers dark blue cloaks. Like NB!Blake, F!Blake enjoys wearing make up.  

Val:

Val’s skin has been tanned from countless hours under the sun training, contrasting nicely against their red hair. Blue-green eyes draw attention to their face, as they shift depending on the outfit they are wearing creating quite the captivating illusion. Standing at 6′4″, they are built like a mountain no matter their gender. For practicality, Val tends to wear a tunic and pants underneath no matter the gender as it makes it easier for them to put armor on. Their color schemes remain in the green-brown side no matter what, but M!Val prefers the green to draw the color in his eyes, as does NB!Val. F!Val prefers browns as they help emphasize the blue on her eyes. NB!Val shares F!Val’s facial structure and lack of facial hair, which differentiates them from M!Val. All versions of Val have let their hair grow past their shoulders, but they each have different braiding methods for it. F!Val wears their hair up in a faux-hawk braid. NB!Val’s hair is braided into multiple smaller braids that then are pulled back into a ponytail. M!Val wears most of their hair up on a top knot, with two braids pulling the hair back from their temples. (References for their braids are found in their pinterest page).

Rowan:

One look at Rowan, and you could believe that they were raised by the Fae. In fact, you could believe that they are a Fae. Mostly because they are so short. At a height of 5′0″, Rowan has spent their lives looking up at others, not that they mind. After all, their height only serves to further the innocent act they tend to wear so well. Their rosy pale complexion only emphasizes the deep light blue of their wide eyes, and the light blush ever-present on their cheeks add to their manufactured innocence. Their hair is platinum blonde, with rosy undertones. F!Rowan has let it grow down to her waist, letting it curl freely around her frame while M!Rowan keeps it at around his ears in a deliberate messiness that gives him a youthful look. NB!Rowan has let it grow to their shoulders and usually wears their hair pulled back into a low ponytail. F!Rowan and NB!Rowan share their dainty pixie-like body type which contains hidden muscles while M!Rowan has allowed himself to grow more visible muscle as it fits his mask. Nonetheless, there is a hidden strength to Rowan few realize is there. No matter their gender, Rowan has a perchance for the dramatic, so they enjoy wearing dark and long cloaks with golden accents, as well as rings in each finger. Depending on their settings, the rings might be enchanted to become claws at their will.  However, underneath their cloaks, their outfits tend to differ. M!Rowan has a preference for waistcoats, dress shirts and tight leather pants, F!Rowan prefers light and delicate dresses and NB!Rowan prefers to not wear the waist coast and instead keep their dress shirts open and pair them with the leather pants. 

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

The World Is Ugly: Donny x Reader

*TW: Angst/Violence A/N: I AM SO SO SORRY!!!! I had this done months ago and somehow forgot to actually post it??? This was literally requested like in winter????

*based on The World is Ugly by MCR

Requested by @softhornymess

@owba-chan @war-obsessed  @inglourious-imagines @tammykelly @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @pastexistence @what-the--curtains @taikawho @spookybearlandtaco Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

*************

1945 "This doesn't scare ya?" Donny joined you at the edge of a steep ravine. In the horizon, beyond the towering trees, between the leaves and the stars, bursts of light and booms echoed from the distant battlefield. "No." You didn't take your eyes off the abyss. "I haven't felt scared anymore, just...a little lonely sometimes." You looked at the endlessness before your eyes. Donny nodded, "Yeah..." He knew just how you felt. You'd had a thousand small talks like that one, and each time you learned something new about each other. "Lonely," his voice was quieter than you were used to, but then again, why would he want to wake the rest of the basterds up now? Now, as his hand rested over yours. Your eyes turned to his, and the two of you smiled for a moment, before turning back to the distant bellowing engines and flashing lights. By dawn, Donny would be gone. Aldo was sending him on a mission of his own, further away from the battle field, meaning further into enemy territory. He was going alone, but that didn't worry you until days turned to weeks. So, Aldo sent the next best thing after him: you. You were interrogating a nazi. Frankly, if he didn't give you the information you wanted, you would still get an extra scalp for the debt you owed to Aldo. The nazi laughed as you threatened him with your gun. "Was ist so lustig?" 'What's so funny?' You demanded through gritted teeth, your gun pressed against his head.

"Du bist nichts ohne Donowitz hinter dir." 'You are nothing without Donowitz behind you.'

You turned to see that Donny was in fact not the one behind you. Instead, you had been surrounded by a patrol. It was a whole army to you, it took everything in you to survive it. And then you saw it. They had Donny's bat. They had taken Donny from you, you were sure of it. In that moment, nothing else mattered. They were everything that was wrong with the world, and you intended to make things right, even if it meant you never got to see another day. When you enlisted just a few short years before, you were naive. You were just some kid, looking for an adventure. You were like so many others. You thought you could change the world. But now, after all you'd come to see, you realized one thing. The world is ugly. But, for brief moments in time, during small talks between the bleakest hours and the softest sunrises, you saw a world beyond your own. You saw the endlessness of the farthest galaxies, the depths of the ocean all in Donny's eyes. He was all that was beautiful to you. You were ready to take on the entire nazi army if you had to to get even. And in that moment, it felt as though that were exactly what you were doing. *** You opened your eyes. You had made it. You took on what seemed to be an army, and you won. You lost your knife in the process, you had no more bullets. You were hurting, hungry, out of water, out of fire. Donny was there. He hovered over you, and you caught your breath. You sat up in confusion, but pain pulsed through every inch of you. "Hey, hey, stay down." Donny gently settled you back down, and waited, watching to make sure you didn't try to get up again. He shook his head, "Fuck's sake y/n," he folded up a strip of cloth he'd torn, and dipped it in his canteen. He wiped away dirt and blood from your face, following a dried trail of blood from your ear, "What has the world done to you..." He was exasperated. You scanned him, searching for answers, but even your eyes hurt. You were both quiet for a few moments, then he asked "What are you doin' out here?" "I came to find you." You confirmed his worst fear, and a pang of guilt washed over him. "I'm fine." You looked at him, and saw there wasn't even a scratch on him. "I was on my way back to you." "They had your bat. I thought that..." you trailed off, not even wanting to utter such words. "Thought that what?" "Nothing. It doesn't matter." He stopped tending to your wounds for a moment. Everything about you mattered to him. Every word, every dream, every breath. "It matters to me." His eyes were wide, searching for an answer. His hands wrapped around your forearm, clinging desperately to all he had. "I thought they got you..." You were both quiet for a moment, and then he responded. "I went back to get my bat... then I saw you here. You were holding on to it, but I thought I was..." Even the bravest of the basterds could not get through the words. "Too late." He shook his head, "Why did you do it?" He demanded. He was angry but not at you. No, he could never be angry at you. He was angry to live in a world that would not hesitate to tear you apart. Losing each other was not an option. Even if you had the right words, it would still burn to say them. One day, decades after the war had ended, you mentioned this instance for the first and last time since. You found that even then,  you and Donny still had trouble with the idea of losing each other. Why? Well...in these times, you were all that the other had. You were the only sign of hope in a cruel world to each other. Saying goodbyes was not an  option. Lucky for you, you didn't have to. No, not this time. But in war who really knew when? All you really had was the dawn as the moon fell away in the horizon, yielding to the pastel streaks of orange in the sky. You finally answered him. Yes, Aldo sent you but you were the first to volunteer to go. If anyone could find Donny, it was you. All the basterds knew that. "I just wanted a happy ending. That's all." "Happy ending... with me?" He shook his head, knowing war was no place for those words. "That's  a stupid thing to die for." His voice was low, and he turned away. Even he didn't believe himself. "What?" You wanted him to say it again, and to look you in the eyes. If he could do that, you'd believe him. He turned to you, "They did this to you because of me. No one gets a happy ending like that." You turned your head away, and your eyes raised to the farthest point. You didn't want him to see you tear up at the harsh words. But he saw anyway. And...it broke his heart. "I'm sorry..." He really didn't mean it. He knew he would have done the same for you, and in his mind, that was anything but stupid. "I just can't lose ya doll... Not in this world."

"You could never lose me," you smiled taking his hand. He smiled softly, wrapping his arms around you. The war could take basterds like Michael and Simon and wipe out entire towns, but it could never take away his love. Some day you'd be home again. The memories and nightmares of the ugliest things the world had to offer would never leave Donny, but neither would you. "I'm sorry." "Why would you be," you shook your head, and he said "Because I love you." You looked up at him. He meant every word. "Losing you is losing everything, realizing how ugly the world really is. If I had to go home without you, you'd still follow me everywhere. I'd see your ghost in the snow, in the sun, all the time, everywhere. I can't be without you. I'd let myself be haunted, just so the idea of you would stay with me. And I'm so afraid of that." "They won't keep us apart. They won't win." Donny kissed you. He was tired of being scared of losing you, and tired of being scared of having you. There was only so much a man could take after all. He dried your tears and you marched on together, your heart beating just as strong as his. It was time to go. It was time to return to the basterds, to the war, to the mission. But in that moment you both understood wherever you went, you would go together.

[toasthoneyandstardust]

Panya Interludes

I'm back for my monthly upload! This is something I've been sitting on for a while and though it's not my regular medium, it still fits my theme. Set in Voltron Force (2011) starring Pidge and OC Anya as per usual!

There was only one word to explain the day that just happened for the lion pilots and their new cadets,

Distressing.  

And that was exactly how the Arusian news channel Pidge had pulled up explained it. Chaos, anxiety, and panic were everywhere after being attacked by the 9th Drule Kingdom. A threat thought to have been put to rest a little more than 5 years ago.  

But while the public worried about future 9th attacks and how the princess would use Voltron to handle them, the team and their allies focused on a secret and more immediate threat.

Pidge worked through the castle controls, labeling every Garrison ship in the castle database as threats to the defenses. He thought back to how Wade put just enough effort to fool the public into believing he'd been there to help. And as if on cue, the news anchor talked about the Sky Marshal's work, how the citizens of Arus voiced their thanks for the backup and protection. Then a clearer voice piped up, reeling Pidge back into focus,

"I know you guys brought the lions out into the fight but, being near the ground out there was really intense"

Pidge looked to the call screen where the voice came from. A woman the same age as him with brown eyes, a beauty mark under her left one, and matching shoulder-length hair, was there to look back. Though she couldn't be entirely seen, she wore a pastel blue jumpsuit with sleeves ending in white and gold, a white chest piece that reached up her neck, a golden diamond shaped belt, and matching white boots that ended at her knees.

"Keith and Larmina were out there on foot," he replied, "we got a report from them and from the sounds of it, intense was an understatement."

Recalling their words, Larmina barreled through multiple Wade-bots and 9th loyalists just to reach a child that was caught in the middle of open fire before being swarmed by the bots once more. Keith got there just in time, getting them both out and safely returning the kid to their parents. But the lull didn't last long, and once again the two had to fight through a wall of enemies.

Pidge sighed, "I know Wade wouldn't do something this big unless there was a cover, so why the hell did the 9th comeback now of all times and hand him a chance like that?"

Aside from being at the front of the first war with the 9th, Pidge had multiple personal problems with them. But hoping they were the only thing he had a major issue with was apparently too much to ask, as the Galaxy Garrison had also given him many additional ones, even before Wade came into the picture.

Pidge turned off the news and turned to focus on the one person he'd much rather listen to at the moment,

"Whatever," he mumbled, "Hey when are you coming back? The guys and I were sad not seeing you here to greet us."

The woman smiled, "I'm bummed I didn't get to see you either, I'll be back the day after next so hold out until then 'k?"

"With all the work we have to do now, I'm sure I'll almost miss your landing, Anya!"

The two laughed, it had been 2 years since they've seen each other in person and another 3 since they've lived at the castle at the same time. They grew up together before Pidge left for the Garrison Academy, and after they reconnected at 16, it hadn't taken long before Anya was scouted for the position of royal advisor by Coran and of course he'd be the one to train her for it.

Obviously, their connection wasn't why she was offered the position, needing to be thoroughly worked on for her to really be ready, Anya at least had the beginnings of a great advisor. Pidge was happy about having someone somewhat separated from his job to talk to.

For a few minutes more, they spoke about anything and everything. But their easy conversation didn't last for long, and Pidge heard Anya be called back to handle more work.

"I guess that's our cue," Pidge said, "sorry I kept you for so long."

"Me? Pidge I called you while you were still working in the control room! It's the other way around." Anya retorted,

He raised an eyebrow, "Yet I still finished my work!"

They eyed each other through squints, waiting for the other to break. But not being able to stand the seriousness for long, they both broke out into light laughter.

"Okay, okay, arguing is pointless. You better not come back later than promised, alright?"

"I'll do my best," she gave a small two finger salute, "see you soon Pidge"

"See ya..."

With a wave goodbye on both sides, the call ended. Pidge didn't feel as restless as he did before, so he let his thoughts linger on Anya and her promise of return.

[ginkgomoon]

I Like You A Latte- Gavin ☕️

Happy blog birthday to @cheri-cheri. Another gift would like to present itself to you! 💙

“The exam is officially over,” you sigh.

All those years of studying and recurring late nights pouring the blood, sweat and tears for you push towards the finish line were all worth it.

You are now free.

Kind of… but not really.

For once, you were outside not catching the train to go university, heading off into another library or exam room. You had thought to savour this rare time to yourself before heading off to find a job. Thankfully, public transport is convenient enough to take you just about anywhere in Loveland City.

With only your phone, wallet and keys in hand, you stroll along the all too familiar building blocks near your home, pondering on where to go for the long awaited first day out by yourself. Should you go for some udon? Bingsoo? Pudding, perhaps?

While breathing in the sweet air of freedom, you admire the city that you grew up in, absorbing the view from down below and up at the infrastructure that the city was so renowned for.

The height, distance and those buildings haven't changed. But you- the stages of your life, experiences and perspectives have. The city almost seemed a little bit more… brighter. More alive. Or maybe… would it be for just this once?

This, you fear.

The glare of the sun continues beating down, its light reflecting off the glass buildings passing its judgement on the entire city. The heat is suffocating and you long for a cool drink or nice air-con to rely on to keep you sane.

A vision suddenly intrudes, presenting the clean pastel coloured store-front of the café that had just opened up nearby. You remember that you had power-walked right past the “WE ARE OPEN” sign on your way home from a past exam to prepare for the final one a few days ago.

You know you rarely enter any cafés at all, but your love for coffee and urge to explore someplace new begin to steer your legs into the walking direction of where you had remembered it to be.

As you soon reach the entrance, the sign you saw from the peripheral of your memory greets you.

“BRUNCH CAFE. WE ARE OPEN.”

You push open the heavy glass door, instantly entering a world of relief. Still in between the two opposing temperatures, you hastily swing the door back and encase yourself in paradise.

You take a moment to briefly scan your surroundings. The café, although it claims to be open, has everything but the barista. It wasn’t as big as the Starbucks down at the shopping centres, but it was humble enough for its size and able to fit all the requirements a café needs.

Soft instrumental music starts to reel you in further, like a siren hypnotising a sailor. You feel... peaceful. Though you wonder if you were hearing the non-diegetic music of the film occurring right in front of your eyes instead of your almost-dream café.

The minimalist designs, the ambience, and the extremely posh and elegant windows that you didn’t admire enough the first time strikes your appeal. You also confirm with yourself that this was the café that you would choose to break the cycle of drinking instant coffees everyday.

Just this once.

On the left side, those posh windows were flaunting on display, and to the right had little cubicles laid out perfect for providing spacious privacy. You marvel at what a genius idea the store owner had to create such a comforting and unique interior for a café. There was not a thing out of place.

Except of course, the barista.

You head over to where the cubicles were waiting and as you turn into the corner, you almost trip over something that looks like… a foot?

Following the coffee-stained sport shoes, your eyes slowly drift up on its owner, locking on a sleeping figure on the seats of the cubicle.

A young man with a soft aura.

You squint in confusion.

The poor cubicle clearly wasn’t big enough to fit his entire body. His hair seems to have fallen into place like dominos having slightly covering his eyelids, and appears to be breathing in a gentle rhythm with his chest following in sync. Your eyes also end up emphasising his jawline as you continue to stare.

His chest- wait.

A little badge on the right corner of his shirt immediately becomes the salient object.

So, he is the barista.

Barista… Gabin?

You lean closer at the words printed out on it.

No, it’s Ga-vin.

Apart from how attractive he looks, you question yourself- why is the barista sleeping during opening hours?

The man’s eyes slowly crack open, like a shell opening to display the pearl from inside, and you finally see his eyes of beautiful amber squinting back at you. Though, you can’t tell if it was because of the bright lights inside the cafe, or if he was solely observing you- and why you were so close to him at this very moment.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” you cry, instantly retracting from your forward-leaning position. Your brain tries to racks up reasons why you two were in this situation incase he asks.

“There was something on your face” or “your foot was in the way” could work. No- “sorry, I’ve never seen another human being before” sounds a lot more believable.

Gavin, the barista, furrows his eyebrows in confusion then seemingly in frustration.

Your body tenses.

It’s coming.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep…” he sighs softly.

You do another quick scan and take that only the two of you were in the cafe now, unless there was another sleeping barista somewhere else you didn’t notice.

“If you're here for coffee, it’s on the house. An apology for what you saw just now…. Just don’t tell the boss if he’s here,” Gavin lightly coughs.

“Oh okay... Thank you. A latte please,” you say, rather not wanting to question it further. For now. But free coffee made by this gorgeous barista? How could anyone refuse this offer? All you did was stare. In that case, you would gladly do it again.

You settle your belongings on the table and catch Gavin rolling up his sleeves, putting on the display of his toned forearms. Luckily, your cubicle entrance was facing the direction of the workbench allowing yourself to watch him set up.

You start to wish for your coffee to be as hot as him.

Scalding hot.

Gavin steadily handles the jug and effortlessly pours the milk into the latte glass with the espresso already inside. Despite your sight of his expertise, he still can’t hide the subtle droopiness of his eyes and the slight furrow of his eyebrows again.

You figure it would be better if you come up to him instead so he wouldn’t have to travel the whole way to your cubicle with his current state being like this.

You gingerly make your way to his workbench while fumbling for a topic to break the awkward silence in your head.

“Is it just you working here today or…?” you ask.

“Is there another hot sleeping barista I should know about?” you continued in your head.

Gavin hands you the transparent cup accompanied by the saucer, a little spoon, a packet of sugar and a complimentary ginkgo-shaped cookie on the side.

The art displayed formed a symmetrical heart with perfect one centimetre foam to present the perfect latte.

“There’s the chef who’s actually the boss of this place but sometimes he dashes in and out. Especially when there’s no customers as of late. I have no idea where he goes, actually. Right now is no exception,” he replies, sweeping the remains of the coffee grounds into the knock box.

“And you do all the work for him? That doesn’t seem fair. Does he allow you to make your own cup of coffee at least?”

“Well, not exactly. I just work over-time till late. Plus, I think my body is practically immune to caffeine by now,” Gavin laughs.

"Me too," you comment.

As tired as he looks, he still has the energy to light up a smile, even with a stranger. His mouth forms an effortlessly handsome arc and you feel something emerging from within your heart, so subtle that you almost think that you could have mistaken yourself as the protagonist in a romance novel.

Though working overtime till late… at a brunch cafe?

You don’t question him any further. You take a whiff at the single delicate-looking plain ginkgo cookie and have a bite. This moment of peace and serenity was offering the much needed break from all that tension and pressure you were under- apart from Gavin being here, though he didn’t seem to mind your presence.

You lean forward to place your elbows on the counter and stare at the coffee in front, frowning a little at the reality of ruining the beautiful heart. You rip open the sugar and pour in half, then give it a stir with the spoon. The foam is perfectly silky and frothy, fusing with the crema like a starry galaxy.

You remind yourself that "it was okay" because this moment would forever remain in your own heart instead. Delicious, creamy arabica coffee.

Like those ginkgo leaves dancing in the wind that autumn day.

You smile at the memory before multiple begin to overlap with another. Ones where you had passed by the senior classrooms catching a glimpse of a boy staring out of the window or down in a random alleyway on your bicycle.

You didn’t think much of it back then either, but he had always looked familiar and seemed to be everywhere you were too. Crossing paths in hallways and even at the library, reading. That upperclassman boy named-

“-Gavin?”

He looks up.

“From school?”

You wonder why you hadn’t realised.

His facial features are now more defined, sharper, and still a head taller than you. Who would have thought the hot barista was actually an old schoolmate. You put your coffee down and internally scream.

“You remember me?” he softly asks.

“Just a little bit. Wait, do you know who I am?”

“Just a little bit.”

Gavin smiles.

You break eye contact and continue drinking, not wanting the coffee to get cold during this exchange. But even now it tastes different than before.

“So, what brings you here?” he asks.

“Taking a break before I find a job. See if any place will accept me…”

“Of course they will. You’re brilliant at what you do. I have no doubts that you will be successful.”

You smile in response, taking in the last of the remaining coffee.

“How do you know? We haven’t seen each other in so long. And I don’t think we’ve ever interacted this much in the past."

“I just do… Trust me.”

You look back up. His eyes light up with so much sincerity that could power a whole entire city’s electricity.

"I never thought I'd see you again," you say.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. You seemed like... you were just so difficult to figure out, especially for people like me who don't know you that well. So I never gave it a second thought either. And now here you are, making my coffee. Anyway, this is probably not making any sense..."

"No, I understand," Gavin states. "In your opinion... what kind of man am I?"

Before you could formulate a proper response, hot heat suddenly finds its way in, corroding with its cooler counterpart and signalling the entrance of another person.

Your eyes catch sight of a tall and handsome man, his aura so dominating that the heat you feel could just be from him instead.

“That’s the boss,” Gavin whispers.

The boss saunters his way in straight towards you two. His black hair matches his suit and tie, making him appear more like a CEO than of a chef.

“Don’t worry, I’m just going to the back to restock some things, I’ll be right back,” Gavin says, shooting you a comforting smile.

While trying to process all of this, your eyebrows are the ones to furrow now instead. How could this boss treat an employee like this? Working overtime without proper breaks? This to you was appalling and certainly see this as an act of injustice. Being the good and lawful citizen that you are, you decide to treat this like one.

“Excuse me.”

Before he enters the kitchen, he turns, offering his full attention to you. You thought you had a good grasp on what you wanted to say, but it seems that your head had disconnected from your voice box.

“Your employee…” you begin, “he seems very fatigued. I think you should be sharing the workload equally instead of leaving the cafe. Haven’t you ever heard of a collegial workplace before?”

His eyebrow lifts- in amusement, mockery or consideration, you don’t know. After all, your words carrying the “sense of justice” did sound a lot better in your head.

“I don’t interfere with anyone’s personal lives,” he said, his deep voice shattering your “prosecution”. But before you could have another go at him, he retreats into the kitchen.

Gavin returns with takeaway cups and lids and sees you standing flabbergasted at your interaction with the boss.

“You okay?”

You reply back with a little “humph” at the direction of the kitchen then turn to Gavin restocking the items on the cup warmer of the coffee machine.

"I-it’s nothing."

After all, this was your first and last time here, and maybe you shouldn't have acted so impulsively on a situation like this. Plus, how would Gavin react if you push the topic further?

You sigh. Hopefully the plan to have a drink and catch up with an old friend later in the night will settle the agitation you feel.

A soft ding is heard from your phone reminding you to get ready to leave.

Perfect timing.

As you reluctantly pack your things, you glance at Gavin’s way, who looks like he’s about to end his shift for the day as well.

You don’t want to be supporting a business owner who treats his employees like this, but yet seeing Gavin this way made you feel helpless. It’s a shame that you won’t see another handsome barista like this again. Or see him again. Or probably enter another cafe at all after this.

“I have to go.”

Your voice interrupts his workflow, and he frowns.

“Now?”

“I have somewhere to be, unfortunately.”

Gavin takes a moment to process this.

“Why don’t you wait till I leave? That way, I can see you off. It will only be a minute.”

More like a minute's time to sob about this man who could have been your boyfriend in a parallel universe. But as long as you won’t be late to meet up with your friend, you agree to wait for Gavin to finish up.

You linger by the entrance, not wanting to intrude his workspace again and steer clear from the awkwardness that could arise from watching him up close.

But after that literal minute, he steps outside with you and the heaviness in your heart starting to simmer back up again. The air already seems to have to cooled down, providing a thankful comfort to your surroundings.

Looking at him now, you almost change your mind. You could maybe see him again when you have time in the future. To... catch up.

Just maybe.

“Thank you for today," you say. You remind yourself to not get too attached, having really not know if you would be ready for all of that, especially for what was to come in the future.

You slowly walk backwards into the direction of your home, back where you need to get ready for the night out again.

“Thanks for coming. It was nice meeting you again,” he replies.

As you turn to leave, in your peripheral vision Gavin tracks forward to cover every step you took away from him, pulling a hesitant arm up to say something more.

But by then, you were already turning the corner and out of sight.

-And after all this time, your thoughts keep returning to those moments.

A couple of hours pass and your mind still orbits Gavin and that café. You wonder if there was something more you could have done or said. Hopefully he didn’t mistake your hurried steps for something else.

You soon arrive at the venue that you and your friend unanimously agreed on, though as you tippy-toe your way through the crowd to spot her, it seems that she hasn't arrived at the agreed time yet.

As you wait, you fiddle with the side of your dress. You decided to go with the classy minimalist look- a black dress and simple ginkgo drop earrings you bought recently. You didn't want to draw any attention to yourself, but you were satisfied that you were well-dressed enough to feel glamorous for the night. However, wanting to avoid the additional heat of the weather sticking on your body like a tattoo, you decide to head in first.

The music gradually becomes clearer and definitely louder as you weave your way through the hallway entrance towards the heart of the club, with the lights dimly lit and its walls enclosed for the darkness to rule.

You haven’t been in a place like this for so long, especially when you got used to the quiet and calm environment of libraries, the home, and the café earlier…

You could feel everyone’s body heat from a good healthy distance away, even at the seat of the bar. You don’t plan on getting drunk tonight, but you know your alcohol tolerance is so low that you figure it would be best if you should order a little fruity mocktail first instead then perhaps have a real drink with your friend when she arrives later.

You give a quick text notifying her of your location and place your phone back into your purse, ready to order.

Darkness continues to stir as you struggle to locate the bartender.

What kind of bartender is this person if they’re not at the bar?

Lights rotate and blind its way in every direction. For a fleeting second, it lands on the person across from you, illuminating those unforgettable eyes and smile of its owner.

His eyes are just as wide as yours.

"It's you."

The barista- no, bartender, was Gavin.

[yelena-bellova]

Don’t Be Afraid: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader - Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty One: Old Friends

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n and Poe pay a visit to Maz Kanata, but don’t find what they expect to.

Warnings: maybe one curse word

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: This day has been...a day...and I almost didn’t get this one out because of how long it took me to edit. There’s so much dialogue in these chapters that can’t be cut (especially about planets created for Resistance Reborn lol) so sometimes I feel like it’s a bit messy. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

————

“Y/n. Sweetheart, wake up.”

I groggily moaned as I forced my eyes open, blinking a couple times till my vision was clear. I hadn’t intended to fall asleep but as soon as Poe had said it was going to be a while till we arrived at our destination, I was out like a light. We were flying a one man ship so I’d inevitably ended up sitting on Poe’s lap, the sound of his heartbeat had soothed me to sleep.

“We’re coming into the atmosphere,” he announced.

“Good,” I yawned, “Anything from the Falcon?”

Poe shook his head, “Nothing yet.”

“Wow,” I breathed as I took a look at the planet we were approaching, “That’s Ephemera, huh?”

It’s beautiful, Bee commented.

“It is beautiful,” Poe replied, bringing one hand off the controls to squeeze my thigh affectionately.

What kind of planet is it?

“It was once a mining planet, like Bespin. But here they mined the tibanna gas to extinction.” Poe explained to the droid, “After it was all gone, the Empire abandoned its colonies and most of the settlers ran with them. Good riddance, from what I hear. It left the planet back in the hands of its original inhabitants and a few holdouts who weren’t there just to cash in but had grown to love the place. And then, surprise, they discovered tuusah.”

“What’s tuusah?” I asked, still admiring the colors of the planet.

“Residue from the mine runoff. Turns out tuusah has medicinal properties, so a new industry was born. Maybe it wasn’t as lucrative as the Empire’s strip mining, but it was a heck of a lot kinder to the planet’s flora and fauna.”

When were they ever kind?

“You’re right,” he said. “The Empire has never been kind. But the planet is a resort destination now, and the capital is called Wish. What a name, right? It used to be Outpost 665 or something boring like that. But now? Wish. It’s one of the largest spas in the galaxy. All kinds of mineral baths and healing treatments and some kind of legendary oxide therapy that’s supposed to make you look younger.”

Poe and I had both seen our share of the galaxy and anytime we’d go on missions together, we’d get into a debate of who knew more about the planet’s history. Once we knew where we’d be going, we’d both usually try to cram as many facts into our heads in an attempt to outsmart the other.

“What?” he chuckled as he caught me staring at him.

“Nothing,” I grinned, “Just enjoying the lecture, Professor Dameron. When’d you find time to study?”

Poe’s lips tugged upwards into a small smirk, “Doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’ve got nothing.”

They don’t have any treatments for droids, right?

“I think you’re safe. Bee,” I laughed, “We’re not here for facials, we’re here for Maz.”

Poe flew us through the pastel clouds of the planet, it was absolutely gorgeous. I wouldn’t have minded coming back at some point. But the thought of visiting planets purely for recreation seemed like a distant dream. Maybe one day Poe and I could vacation somewhere but for now, our trips were centered on war.

A transmission came in from the landing strip.

“Welcome to Ephemera airspace,” came from a breathy, zen-like voice, “Please identify yourself so that we can grant you landing clearance.”

“This is…” Poe hesitated in giving his name, we hadn’t thought whether or not we should’ve been using aliases. Was it likely that the First Order was hiding out on a planet known for their spa facilities? No. But being cautious never hurt anyone, especially people in our situation.

“Poe Dameron, is that you?” a familiar voice came through, “Oh, give me that mike, dear, I can take it from here.” There were more muffled protests on the other side, leaving us confused.

“Maz?” Poe called.

“What? Of course it’s me, you fool. Who else would have asked you to this backwater?”

“Maz, is everything all right?” I asked.

“Baby Solo! Your boyfriend didn’t tell me you were coming too!” she cried happily, putting heavy emphasis on the word ’boyfriend’.

“Yeah, it sounded like something was going on.” I replied.

“Bah. Just some people getting a little possessive with the equipment. Nothing to concern yourself with. I’ve handled it. Now hurry up. I haven’t got all day.”

Poe furrowed his brows as we looked for a place to park, “Uh, I’d be happy to land, but I don’t see anything that looks like it’ll hold the ship up. Am I in the right place?”

“Oh, you’re right. Isn’t that funny? Some kind of security measure, the locals assure me, but really I think they’re just partial to the undulation.”

“Undulation?” I repeated.

“You’ll see. Everything here sways a bit. Now...let me...”

It took a moment of hearing various sounds on Maz’s end before one of the platforms solidified before our eyes.

“What in the...?” Poe mumbled to himself.

“It’s perfectly safe, Dameron.” Maz assured, “Now are you going to land or not? I thought you were on urgent Resistance business.”

I shook my head in disbelief, only Maz could have picked a place like this. “Copy,” I said. “We’ll see you in a few minutes.”

“Good, good. See you soon. Oh, are you hungry? Have you two eaten? I should have food brought up, shouldn’t I? I’ll have to ask them to prepare something special unless...you don’t have time for a psychedelic experience do you?”

Poe chortled at the question, “Not today, Maz. Like you said, urgent business.”

We landed on the, surprisingly stable, platform Maz had formed for us and headed into the grand looking facility. For all my years of knowing Maz, I still sometimes didn’t understand her. Her connections spanned across the galaxy and back, she knew everybody from beggars on the streets to political diplomats. She had eyes everywhere even if she didn’t move around all that much. Out of all the people the Resistance was seeking aide from, I had no doubt that Maz could probably help us the most.

————

“I’m not helping you with anything,” Maz said, adjusting her goggles to see us clearer. Our faces were nothing sort of shocked. “If you recall, last time I stuck my neck out for the Resistance, the First Order destroyed my castle. Do you know how much I loved that castle?”

“I know, it was spectacular.” I replied, memories of that day flooding back.

“The best. Do you know how long I had had it?”

“A thousand years?” Poe offered.

“A thou...” Max paused, and shot daggers at Poe, who offered her a playful smile in return, “Longer than you’ve been around, flyboy, that’s for sure. So don’t sniff at me like I’m being unreasonable.”

Maz put her hands in a bowl of colorful thick goop and pulled out a handful. It reeked something awful but she didn’t seem to mind as she offered us some, “You want?”

“No, we’re fine.” Poe answered for both of us, my face was scrunched up in disgust at the odor.

Here we were, sitting on lounge chairs inside one of Wish’s day spas putting everything out on the line. And here Maz was refusing to help us. She was perfectly content to sit with her feet soaking in mud and having attendants bring her various teas. She hummed as she rubbed the gelatinous stuff into her face without a care in the world when Poe and I bore the fate of the galaxy on our shoulders.

“What is that stuff? It smells horrid.” I commented, taking another whiff of the air and immediately regretting it.

“Feline poop.” Maz answered casually, “From some species that’s lived here so long that it’s practically native to the planet. Imagine. A planet with no solid ground but plenty of cats. The story is that the founder of Ephemera was a Rothkahar philosopher. He domesticated this species because he thought them of advanced intelligence...or maybe they domesticated him. I forget. Anyway, later on, he found that their excrement had healing properties. High concentrations of tibanna gas, naturally processed into tuusah. Does wonders for the skin.”

Rubbing animal feces into your body to achieve better looking skin. Sure. Totally normal.

“That’s great, Maz,” Poe said, changing the topic quickly, “But can we get back to the topic at hand? The Resistance needs your help.”

“Yes, you told me.”

“We need a place to hide and regroup. It needs to be outside of prying First Order eyes but able to handle our needs for housing, supplies, communications...” Poe explained.

“Didn’t you say there were only a handful of you left on a single ship? What needs could you have?” she replied.

Poe and I glanced over to each other, surprised at how insensitive she sounded. This wasn’t the Maz I knew.

“There’s going to be more,” I pointed out, “The Resistance is scattered across the galaxy and we’re going to continue to grow. We need shelter but we also need people like you. Leia was the only member of our leadership that survived, we need your help in leading the Resistance.”

“Lead the Resistance?” Maz’s eyes moved suspiciously between Poe and I, “I thought that was your job.”

“We…” Poe began, biting his tongue almost immediately. Very few knew about our demotions but we wore shame as if the whole galaxy mocked us.

“Expecting me to do your job for you?” Maz grumbled with a humorless laugh, “You two are the commanders in the room. Or has that changed?”

“Nothing’s changed,” Poe replied quickly, causing me to turn to him in confusion. Were we supposed to lie and cover up the fact that we’d lost our titles? Either way, Maz didn’t seem to care as she lay back in her lounger and closed her eyes. We waited for something, anything, to come out of her mouth. She always had some sort of unique and cryptic wisdom to offer. It was when light snores escaped her lips that it seemed like it was a hopeless cause.

Poe rose from his seat and offered me his hand, “This was a waste of time. We should go.”

“No!” Maz shouted suddenly, grabbing hold of his wrist. All of her trademark personality had left the one eye she had opened and she was dead serious. “Listen closely to me, Poe Dameron. You see me like this, and you think me a fool. Good for me, because when an enemy perceives you as foolish or weak, that is when they are most vulnerable in their arrogance. That is when you strike.”

Upon her last word, she yanked down on Poe’s hand and his feet went out from under him. He landed harshly on his back and had the wind knocked out of him on impact. I rose to help him up but Maz forcefully pushed me back onto my lounge chair with her other hand. She climbed off her seat and stepped onto Poe’s chest, bending over so that her face was almost touching his.

“I see arrogance in you. And that is what gets you in trouble, causes pain.” Maz observed before blindly pointing to me, “And fear in you. It’s controlled you all your life.”

I hated when Maz did this, or at least when it was directed at me. While my ego played a part in the mutiny, fear had been my main motive. Fear played a bigger part in my life than Maz even knew. It stopped me from picking up my lightsaber, it stopped me from telling people that I was Force sensitive, it delayed me from deciding to train as a Jedi…

“We learned our lesson,” Poe gritted out, still pinned down and I didn’t dare to help him.

“Have we?” Maz asked, looking between the two of us.

I struggled for words, I didn’t want to have to recount the events again. Especially to someone who could see right through me. The few times I’d slept since Crait had been filled with nightmares containing the transports exploding and the screams of my fallen comrades. Asleep or awake, I was being forced to relive my mistake constantly.

“You asked if we were still leaders,” Poe started, he could tell I was too wrapped in my thoughts to speak, “The truth is that I don’t know. W-We made some mistakes...”

“Mistakes?” Maz repeated.

“We led a mutiny,” I blurted out, the truth flowing from my lips quicker than I could manage. “We were being kept in the dark and didn’t trust the person in charge. I had just lost Dad and Mom was in a coma and I panicked, alright? I-I felt like I had to do something! I didn’t want anyone else to die and we ended up killing so many.”

“And did you?” Maz jutted her chin up as she looked at me, “Have to do something?”


I blinked away the tears that filled my eyes, guilt rose in my chest as I thought of Holdo. Standing in the hanger as she watched our transports flee the Raddus, she had everything under control while I’d been scheming behind her back.

“No,” I trembled and ducked my head as if that would shield me from her vision.

“Dameron?”


“No,” he said, “I’m a soldier and she was my commanding officer. All I had to do was trust.”

I peered up to see Maz plop down on Poe’s chest, a sight that should’ve amused me, but didn’t. The moment had drained me of every emotion that wasn’t sorrow or guilt.

“And now what?” she asked.

“What?” Poe said, his eyes rested on me to make sure I was relatively alright.

“Let’s say you’re right. That your actions, your arrogance, got many people killed. Led the Resistance to where they are now: broken, on the run, destitute, and begging for help.”

As I stayed silent, Poe spoke up, “We fix it.”

“How will you do that?” she asked. “You can’t bring the dead back. You can’t single-handedly rebuild the Resistance, although,” Maz snorted and looked between the two of us, “If anyone was going to try it would be you two.”

“I can bring down the First Order.” Poe answered.

“Alone?” Maz raised her eyebrows in amusement

“If I have to.”

She shook her head, “Arrogance. Still.” Maz adjusted her position so she was kneeling over him, “You know who else is arrogant? The First Order.”

“The First Order is evil, Maz, that’s not a fair comparison.” I stuck up for my boyfriend, sniffling after, “No one knows that better than me.”

Maz adjusted her goggles again, seemingly staring straight into my soul. While I’d never explicitly told her about my family history, she’d always known. If you knew the Solo family, it wasn’t hard to connect the dots as to why we suddenly became a permanent party of three one day. I hoped she wouldn’t push it, that was one wound I didn’t need reopened.

“I’ve seen evil in many forms, children. The First Order is no worse than the Sith, or the Empire, or countless others who would use the dark side. As always, they must be countered with the light. But...” Maz finally climbed off of Poe and came back to sit on her lounge chair, removing her spectacles as she did, “I have my own way of fighting. Not everything is about armadas and starfighters, you know.”

Poe sat up finally, rubbing at his sore back and stared at Maz. I was just as surprised, I never thought that she would be the one to disappoint me. She seemed so…

“You think I’m callous,” she finished my thought, “But I’m not. You will be fine without me.”

I scoffed at her dismissal and stood up, “You’re the last person I would’ve expected to say no to helping, Maz. Especially after what happened to Dad…”

“I sure hope you’re right, lady,” Poe said bitterly, “Because if you’re not, me and mine are going to die. And you can sit with that for a thousand more years for all I care.”

With that, we silently made our way out of the spa feeling like even bigger failures than we had when we entered.

————

I dried the last of my tears as Poe asked for clearance to leave for the second time, only to be denied. One of his arms was tightly wound around my torso, Maz’s questioning had opened a floodgate I’d been trying to keep shut. The mutiny, Holdo, Dad…I wished more than anything that my father was here, he would know exactly what to do. How to rebuild, how to lead, how to atone for my sins…

I growled and smacked the side window of our ship, “Why won’t they just let us off this damned planet?”

Poe tried again to be met with the same breathy voice with a different message, “Negative, pilot. You have company.”


We looked around through the pastel fog that surrounded us and found nothing. A sudden knock on the window had us both jumping and reaching for our blasters till we saw who it was. Maz.

“Open up,” she said with another tap on the glass.

Poe opened the cockpit and Maz leaned into the small space.

“There’s something I meant to tell you before you ran off like that. But first, where did you get this ship? It’s a relic.”

“It’s a loaner.” Poe answered exasperatedly, “I told you we’re down to scrap metal, everything else destroyed. Now what do you want?”

“It’s a relic, but it’s also a collectible. When you’re done with it, come see me. I might buy it.”

I sighed frustratedly, “Maz, what do you want? We’ve got places to be.” That was a lie, we had absolutely nowhere to go.

Maz waved us off as if we had all the time in the world. “We’ve long suspected that the First Order has been taking children and disappearing people on the margins of the galaxy. But things are escalating now: arresting people on phony trumped-up charges. Small crimes that they’ve blown up into capital offenses, or charges simply fabricated out of nothing. People going missing in the dead of night, their families having no idea what happened to them. Nighttime raids or picked up off the streets and vanished. And the people most likely to disappear? People with ties to the old rebellion. And interestingly enough, we’re seeing it with some old Imperials, as well. Those who have been outspoken about their distaste for the First Order, but also those who have remained neutral. Anyone who might pose a threat, now or down the line.”

“Do you think that’s what happened to our allies?” I thought out loud, “They could’ve been arrested?”

“Maybe. Possibly.” Maz answered with a shrug, “But the First Order used to do it in secret. Now they don’t bother. They snatch people off the streets and don’t even pretend to have whatever planet they’ve infiltrated hold a sham trial. Just death or labor camps.”

“Labor camps?” Poe breathed, it was a heavy revelation.

“Someone has to build all those fancy new ships, eh?”

Poe and I shared a look, trying processing the information. “Thanks, Maz,” he said thoughtfully, “Leia will want to know about this.”

“Yes, I thought she might. Rumor has it that there’s a list somewhere of all the people they’ve taken. A big list. No one’s seen it, but I’ve got people chasing it down. I hear something definitive, I’ll call you.”

“Please do,” I responded with a single nod.

“You sure you don’t want to sell this ship?” Maz gestured to our ship once more.

“Not ours to sell.” Poe replied.

“A shame.”

Poe began to close the cockpit just as Maz called our names, “Poe! Y/n!”

We turned our heads to see a knowing smile on her face, “Be the light.”

————

We’d just gotten off Ephemera when we began to discuss the visit.

Bee initiated the conversation, What’s wrong?

“I guess I expected more.” Poe answered, earning a hum of agreement from me.

Well, what did you expect?

“Anything. I’ve known Maz a long time and never once has she disappointed me.” I shook my head, “Guess I can’t say that anymore.”

I’m sorry.

“Maybe our expectations were too high.” Poe let out a heavy sigh.

I leaned my head back against his shoulder and let out a similar sound. My mind was swirling with chaos, most of which I’d created for myself. I felt like there was going to be a dark cloud of shame that followed me around for the rest of my life. Poe’s reply to Maz back in the spa still had me thinking though, we had to fix our mistake. We couldn’t bring back the people we’d lost, but we could try to make amends. The question of how we would do that, I still didn’t have an answer for but I was determined enough to figure it out.

Communication coming in, it’s from the Millennium Falcon.

I sucked in a breath, it was the first contact I’d had since I’d left the ship. What was waiting on the other end? I felt my anxiety building once again at the extreme scenarios that filled my head. As if he could read my mind, Poe grabbed my hand and squeezed hard. His nerves were just as high as mine.

“Put it through, buddy.” Poe requested, his thumb rubbing over my hand lightly, “This is Poe Dameron, everything all right?”

“Poe!” Rose’s voice greeted, “Good to hear your voice. Wait, isn’t Y/n with you?”

“I’m here, Rose. Is everything okay?” I held my breath as we awaited her answer.

“Falcon’s on land,” she answered, “We’re hoping you and Maz will join us.”

“Maz isn’t coming,” Poe said regretfully, “I’m afraid she’s decided to sit this fight out.”

“What? Why?”

I didn’t want to lie to Rose but didn’t feel right telling her just how disinterested in our sufferings Maz appeared to be. “It’s a long story. Where are you guys?”

“That’s a long story too but the short version? Leia secured us temporary shelter on Ryloth.”

“That’s great news, Rose,” I sighed, turning to Poe who seemed to be lost in his own thoughts and giving him a nudge. He shook himself out of his daze, “We’ve got a place to land. Ryloth system.”

“The Ryloth system?” Poe repeated with a small chuckle, “How did Leia pull that one off? I thought Ryloth didn’t pick sides.”

“She’s Leia,” Rose replied.

“She is, indeed,” Poe reenforced as I grinned, I was beginning to think there truly was nothing my mother couldn’t do.

“I’m sending BB-8 the coordinates now.”

I watched as the coordinates appeared on the display screen, Poe examined them, “This says head for the outermost moon. Is that correct?”

“Ambassador Yendor has asked our starfighters to meet there. Once everyone’s collected, he’ll bring you in under cover.”

“Ah,” he said, “So we’re not officially on Ryloth.”

“It’s a bit of a stealth mission. The government knows we’re here but they can’t acknowledge us. We’re working directly with the Ryloth Defense Authority.”

“The Ryloth Defense Authority? I don’t know what that is, but it sounds promising.” Poe said, I heard just an ounce of hope in his voice for the first time in a while.

“Leia can explain once you guys are here. Any word from the rest of your Black Squadron?”

“Negative,” he answered, “But we’re just clearing planet orbital space. We’ll follow up with Black Teams One and Two shortly and give them the coordinates.”

“Affirmative. Leia also wants you to follow up with Inferno Squadron and give them the coordinates, too.”

“We will.” I replied.

“Great. See you soon.”

“Out,” Poe said before ending the transmission, “If I haven’t ever said it, your mother is incredible.”

“I’m pretty sure you sing her praises in your sleep,” I jested, earning a pinch to my side.


“BB-8, open a secure channel to Black Team One.” Poe directed.

After a few seconds waiting, Snap’s voice came through, “Is that you, Poe? Y/n? Everything okay?”

“All good, here, Snap.” Poe stated, “Checking in on the status of your mission and to give you coordinates to a meeting place.”

There were muffled curses through the speaker of the ship followed by a voice shouting “Yes!”. Snap followed, “Copy that, Poe. And your timing is excellent. Karé and I have left Akiva with Norra and Wedge in hand.”

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Nothing we couldn’t handle. Some local opposition and some less than effective surface to air cannons. We took care of it.”

“Good to hear,” Poe replied, “And everything’s good with Wedge and…and your mom?”

“Oh, she’s crazy as ever,” Snap laughed, “But aren’t we all these days? It’s her life, right? I’m going to let her live it.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Snap” I smiled, “I’m going to send you the coordinates right now.”

“Received.” he answered after a moment, “I’ll get them to the team. Listen, we’re going to make a couple of detours to see if we can find any of Phantom Squadron still kicking around.”

“Phantom Squadron?” Poe asked, “They haven’t flown together since my mom was still an active pilot.”

“We need people, right?”

I shrugged, “It’s worth a shot, they’d have experience.”

“See, your girlfriend approves. It won’t take long. We’ll see you on Ryloth before you know it.”

Poe chucked under his breath, “Alright, watch your back out there, Snap.”

“Always do.” Snap answered just before Poe ended the communication.

“So are you calling the shots now for my squadron?” Poe asked with a smile.

I snickered, “All I did was endorse the idea. One pilot is enough for me to manage, I don’t need five of you.”

Without even having to ask, Bee started connecting us to Sura and Jess.

“Poe! Y/n!” Sura yelled, causing us to jolt back in our seat, “I can only talk for a sec. Real busy here!”

“What’s going on?” Poe’s voice drained of all humor, “Are you and Jess under fire?”

“Uhh...you could say that.” Suralinda screamed just as the comm ended suddenly.

“Bee,” I hurried, “What happened?”

I don’t know!

“Well, can you reconnect?” Poe cried, nerves had over taken him.

I’m going to try.

“Keep trying,” he replied, “Something’s happening to them, why did I make the call to send them there? I should have-“

“Stop,” I said, attempting to keep my anxiety at bay for Poe’s sake, “We don’t know anything yet. Do not start beating yourself up before we even know what happened.”

He attempted to take some deep breaths as I kept a hand on him, but I didn’t sense his panic decreasing at all. We waited for several minutes, consumed by fear that our friends were dying, until the connection finally went through.

“Poe?” Jess’s voice rang through, “Is that you? Y/n?”

“Jess,” Poe breathed, his body relaxing back into the seat, “Is that you?”

“Oh yeah. I just tagged Suralinda into the ring, so she had to go,” she answered as she panted for breath. There was an unmistakeable roar of a crowd in the background.

“Ring?” I asked, “Jess, where the hell are you?”

“Barterus. Gladiatorial ring. The ex-Imperial Suralinda was looking for? Teza Nasz? She wouldn’t see us unless we bested her greatest warriors in hand-to-hand combat, so Suralinda thought-”

“Fuck,” Poe cursed and threw his head back, “Suralinda thought she’d throw two very much needed Resistance pilots into the death pits of Rattatak for the sake of simply talking to an ex-Imperial who may or may not be of help to us?”

“Well,” Jess responded meekly after a few seconds, “When you put it that way.”

“Get out of there, Jess,” Poe ordered, “It’s not worth losing either one of you. We need you flying for Black Squadron more than we need this Teza Nasz.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid it’s a little too late for that, Poe. The Rattataki don’t take kindly to quitters. It’s sort of a win-or-die situation. But don’t worry. We got this in hand. Oh!”

There was a crash in the background and the sound of a vibro-ax being charged up. It was going to be harder now to reassure Poe that everything was going to be fine…

“I’m up! Gotta go, don’t worry!”

“BB-8 is going to send coordinates for our rendezvous point,” I said, “Get there in one piece as soon as you can.” 

“Don’t mess around.” Poe said, ”And don’t die! That’s an order.

“Order received!” Jess announced before disconnecting the communication properly.

“Insanity…” Poe grumbled, though I couldn’t help myself from laughing, “Something funny?”

“I’m sorry,” I said in between my giggles, “I really hope you appreciate that the rest of your squadron are just as hotheaded as you are.”

He sighed irritatedly at me before I felt his chest begin to rumble with laughter. For just a few brief seconds, everything felt okay. Sitting in Poe’s lap, flying together and laughing.

“We need to make one last call,” I said, asking Bee to put it through.

“Shriv here.”

“Shriv,” Poe greeted, “It’s Poe and Y/n, how’s your mission going?

“Oh, you know,” he answered, ”Lots of flying around and getting doors slammed in our faces. But we did find a couple of old friends of the Rebellion. I think Leia will be pleased.”

“I’m sure she will. We’re headed for Ryloth,” I spoke up, “Does Inferno Squad feel like joining?”


“Absolutely.”


“Great. We’re sending the coordinates now.” Poe replied as he pressed the button.


Shriv answered soon after, “Received. We’re on our way.”

“See you there,” I said and ended the transmission, “Well, that’s a little bit of good news.”

“Yeah,” Poe adjusted a control before asking Bee to jump to lightspeed, "We’re going to need a lot more of it though.”

————

We were one of the thirteen ships that landed on Ryloth in the middle of the night. I was happy to see as many ships as that in the hanger when Poe and I dismounted, it was a good start. He was the first one to spot Mom,

“Leia!” he called out and we jogged across the hanger to get to her. Even though I’d known she was safe on Ryloth, I couldn’t relax until I’d actually seen her with my own eyes.

“Commander,” she said with a nod to Poe. He was so embarrassed by his casualness that he hadn’t even realized that she’d called him ‘Commander’ again.

“General,” he greeted again as he blushed, “Sorry for the informality. Just glad to see you again.”

“I’m glad to see you, too, Poe. You too, Commander Solo,” she said, with a wink directed towards me, “Walk with me and tell me what we have.” I’d have to ask her later what we’d done to earn our titles back.

We made our way through the hanger and explained as many people as we could.

“The two pilots there you know from Black Squadron, Jessica Pava and Suralinda Javos.” Poe pointed towards the duo, plus a recently added third person, “The woman with them is ex-Imperial-officer Teza Nasz. They found her on Rattatak after fighting in the death pits.”

Sura and Jess looked…well, they could’ve looked worse. Jess’s dark hair was matted with blood, Sura had a few bruises and her lip was split. Teza Nasz was easily the most intimidating person I’d ever seen in my life. She wore a one-shouldered jumpsuit made up of various animal skins and mismatched pieces of armor. There were lines that were cut into her arm, no doubt by a knife and she had dark red dreadlocks down her back.

“That warlord is ex-Imperial?” Mom asked, I could hear her stifling a laugh.

Poe explained her backstory and how she’d been an officer in the Imperial Navy, strategist in the Battle of Jakku and was assumed dead shortly after. Suralinda and her had known each other at some point.

Mom was thinking it all over, “Well, she looks like a warrior, not a strategist, but perhaps I shouldn’t judge by looks alone. If she dropped off New Republic scopes that thoroughly and was able to rise to power on Rattatak, she’s probably both. What’s her name, again?”

“Teza Nasz,” I answered at the exact moment the warlord turned around and locked eyes with Mom. There was some sort of silent standoff between the two of them, they were both powerful in their own right. Only once Nasz turned away first did we continue our discussion.

“Who else?” Mom asked before a voice called her name. We turned to see a young girl behind us eagerly waiting to shake Mom’s hand.

“It’s good to finally meet you in person, Zay,” she greeted, “Where’s Shriv?”

“Over here,” the Duros said, walking up to join us. “Good to see you General.”

Shriv had been a Rebellion, now Resistance, fighter. He’d seen everything from the Battle of Endor to the Battle of Jakku during the old days. If you wanted to hear some good war stories, Shriv was your man. I’d only heard of Zay from my mother, I knew that she was recently orphaned and an excellent pilot. Naturally her story tugged at my heart.

After we’d caught up and Shriv had excused himself, Mom asked Zay if they’d located anyone. We made our way over to the civilian transport where she said she thought we’d be happy with what we found. She also filled us in on what had gone on during their mission. Once she got to the point where they were unable to locate many of the people they’d been trying to find, I decided to jump in.

“Maz told us something similar,” I said, “It seems like they’ve disappeared.”

“What does it mean?” Zay asked.

“The First Order, most likely,” Poe answered, “If we know about these potential allies, so do they. They’re just getting to them first.”

We made our way to the transport and took a look at the group. There were two native Twi’lek’s handing out hot towels and water to our allies, everyone was in their own conversations that seemed to die as they noticed Mom’s presence. A single figure broke apart from the small crowd and began walking toward us.

“This is-“ Zay began to say.

“I know who this is,” Mom said quietly before greeting the older man, “General Rieekan.”

As they embraced, I finally placed where I’d heard the name. He’d been a General during the Rebellion, working closely with my mother on Hoth and everywhere else the Rebellion had taken them. Poe, Zay and I broke away from them to let the two old comrades catch up.

“I can’t believe you and Shriv found him,” I patted Zay on the shoulder, “Good job.”

“Thanks,” she beamed at me, before her eyes caught my lightsaber on my hip, “Wait, you’re Commander Solo.”

“Last time I checked.”

“You’re a legend!”

Poe and I exchanged a confused look before I turned back to the girl, “How so?”

“Crait! You took on Kylo Ren all by yourself!” Zay exclaimed, her hands flying to her head, “It’s all over the galaxy how you battled each other. A-And then I heard Luke Skywalker showed up and the two of you fought together. Oh man, I can’t believe I’m actually talking to you!”

How the hell had that story gotten out? I assumed that moment would live and die on Crait, maybe it would spread slowly through the Resistance. I didn’t think I would turn into a galaxy-wide tale. Much less, that it would be told falsely with the embellished storyline that my uncle and I had fought together. I wished that was the truth.

“Well,” I awkwardly smiled, “That’s not entirely true.”

Zay’s face fell as if I’d just crushed some dream of hers, “So you didn’t battle Kylo Ren?”

“Well,” I rubbed the back of my neck, “I did, but-“

“So you are a hero!” she grinned before excitedly shaking my hand, “I can’t tell you how excited I am to meet a real live Jedi knight!”

I could tell I wasn’t going to get in a word edgewise, the girl already looked up to me seemingly. But I felt unnerved at the thought that I was letting someone else think I was a hero. Heroes didn’t lead mutinies and they certainly didn’t get their soldiers killed.

Shouts began to rise behind us in the hanger, we turned to see a crowd was beginning to form. I could clearly hear the punches that were being thrown.

“A fight!” Zay excitedly shouted.

Poe, Shriv and I ran off together to see what was going on. I should’ve known things were going just a little too well to continue that way.

————

A/N: Fun Fact: The conversation between Zay and the reader is based on the ending of TLJ with the three kids reenacting the lightsaber fight. As always, thank for all the support on this series! I’m having the best time writing it 🖤

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[lil-ichigo-bunny]

『Interactive Kiddo Posts』

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DO NOT INTERACT / Tags / Info : under cut

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* demon slayer

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[sunflowersteves]

Hey lovely, for the song prompts can you do #4 with Bucky or Sebastian Stan??? Love you!!!❤❤

author’s note || hi, love!! thank you for sending in a request ;) Also, girl, prepare for the a n g s t!

prompt || “does she love you better than I can?”

warnings || hella angst, sadness, unrequited love, not happy ending

You sucked in a breath as the pretty invite postcard with elaborate gold writing. You honestly didn’t think you would be given an invitation considering that you and Bucky had a past.

You are invited to: Mr. and Mrs. Barnes Wedding!

You looked over to see your dog, Dodger, wagging his tail blissfully happy that you’re home for the day. You scratch behind his ear and coo at him, telling him how much of a good boy he is, which only makes his tail wagging intensify. 

You look back at the invitation, and a sigh leaves your lips. You know you’ve moved on, you’ve been quite happy with being single. You’ve discovered new things about yourself and found how resilient you were. 

You had gone into outer space, joining in with the Guardians of the Galaxy on their quests. You’ve seen all kinds of aliens—even fallen in love with a few. You’ve seen vast oceans and trees and land on different planets, which enabled you to help find yourself.

You knew the two of you weren’t in a healthy relationship. You knew it was only a matter of time until Bucky had let you go. You remember the day he left you, the day he left for the other woman. You knew you couldn’t blame him. She was vastly different from yours and Bucky’s relationship.

“Does she love you better than I can?”

His eyes immediately latch onto yours; he stared deeply into your eyes as he chewed his lip.

“I still care for you-”

You held up your hand, a few tears falling down your face. You had gotten off of his sofa by this point, ready to bolt out the door. 

“But you don’t love me anymore, and I’m okay with that, but don’t you dare hide the fact that you love her by saying you care for me still. That’s not fair.”

“y/n-”

This time you turned to look at him with pleading eyes, which made him halt his sentence. He closed his eyes at the pain he was feeling in his heart. He knew he needed to let you go, but he didn’t want to. You were there when he needed somebody the most. You were there when nobody else was.

He didn’t want to let go of what he used to love and what got him through tough times, but he also knew that he was hurting you. He knew that if he kept you, he would only cause more hurt and pain.

“I love you, Bucky. It will probably take me a long time to move on, but it’s for the best. I need to find myself again.”

It felt as if you slipped right out of his fingers just then. He knew that you would never come back; you may never even see him again.

~

To say the wedding was uncomfortable to you was an understatement. What was weird was the fact that these were the wedding colors and decorations that you told Bucky you wanted. They were a pair of your two favorite colors with patterns of your favorite flowers.

You were very and quite frankly confused. Why were your favorite colors everywhere? And why was this the exact wedding you planned with Bucky all those years ago?

Even the arch that was large and extravagant, you had also planned with bucky one night. It was covered in another one of your favorite flowers that followed the rest of the pattern. 

You were seated next to Natasha as she intertwined her fingers with hers. She squeezed slightly while your face was concealed with a sad smile. 

“You doing okay?”

You just kind of shrugged towards her, your eyes slowly leading its way towards the groom’s area.

“As best as I can be when it looks like it’s my dream wedding.”

Natasha could only look towards you with sorrowful eyes; she knew she wouldn’t be much help. She didn’t know what to do in this situation. Since you had come back to Earth, Bucky has been doubting his relationship and realized that he was still unbearably in love with you. He’s been trying to break off the wedding ever since but he still cared for his girlfriend. Right now, Nat wanted now more than ever to tell you what’s going on in his head, but it was never her place to say. It was Bucky’s responsibility to tell you himself.

About 30 minutes later, there’s still no sign of the bride or groom, and you could tell the people around you were starting to get impatient. You were a bit startled by Steve coming up to you, in a dashing tux.

“Y/n, could you come here for a second?”

You only nod and get up from your seat, a few of the guests looking at you weirdly. You follow Steve as he goes to the Groom’s side of the chapel, and now you were very confused. He softly knocked on the door in front of him.

“Steve, I don’t want to see you.”

You turn towards Steve with your eyebrow raised, but you gave up. You needed closure yourself. Your breakup wasn’t ever really the closure that you wanted. You now knew his intentions of bringing you in here.

“It’s not Steve.”

You couldn’t even register what happened until you were standing right in front of your ex, Bucky. He had immediately opened the door and pulled you in as fast as you could. When he had sent the invention, he honestly didn’t think you would come. However, he had a small tiny bit of hope that you would.

A blush was lifted onto his cheeks as he got a full look at you. You were in a pastel pink dress that flowed around your legs, and your hair styled perfectly, the way that you had always styled it when Bucky took you on fancy dates. 

“y/n…”

He honestly couldn’t believe that you were standing right in front of him.

“What’s going on, Bucky?”

A sigh escaped his lungs, and his eyes met yours, flicking between the two trying to figure out what to sat to you.

“I miss you. I miss you so much. I thought that she was the one, you know? Our relationship was so unhealthy, but I now realize that I was never in love with her. I just wanted something new.”

A gasp left your lips, and you pulled back a little bit, not expecting him to be spilling this all out to you. Notably, on his wedding day of all days. When was he going to tell you this if you hadn’t come? On his four year anniversary?

“Bucky-”

“I’m not finished. I know this is late, but I realized that I want to try with you. Even if we have to start at square one, I’ll do anything for you. Runaway with me.”

Now you were practically almost out the door as anger surged through your body. You had cried over him; your heart had hurt every time you saw a picture on his Instagram. You had held yourself high and mighty from years and years of heartbreak.

Now, you had gotten over him and even have had a few lovers yourself. After all these years, he suddenly wants you again?

A scowl never left your face as you stared at the groom before you. “I had come to terms that I would always love you. You will always be in my heart Bucky.”

He looked at you with a hopeful stare, he was hoping the two of you could just run off together and into the sunset.

“But I’m not in love with you anymore. I cried, hurt, and felt sorrowful for years, Bucky. I had finally found myself when I moved on, and I felt free for the first time in my life. You are the love of my life, but really? On your wedding day?”

You shook your head and stared down as tears had fallen onto his cheeks. “I cannot be yours, Bucky.”

You didn’t even spare him a second look, which you knew was a sad one, as you walked out the door and back into the chapel. You sat back in your seat near the front, looking straight head to wait for the wedding to start.

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