#and really love the part where both of them fed up with this cold war thingy and tried to mend up their relationship 🤭

[sylvia-forest]

[CN] Shaw's 5th Anniversary Event - (Part 1 - 4)

⚡Prologue: here

⚡ Warning: This post contains detailed spoiler's for an Event which hasn't released in EN yet!⚡

I've only translated the main part and skipped other fun activities due to shortage of time!

You can read the event from here!

—

⚡ VCR

⚡ Heart Lake (final part)

—

#i can finally upload it after so many months 🥲 #the entire event not only he was preparing surprise for her but also trying to lighten up the mood for her🥺 #my boy was so troubled with the feelings he was experiencing and also not able to see MC silly smile which makes his day— #and really love the part where both of them fed up with this cold war thingy and tried to mend up their relationship 🤭 #shaw's way of apologizing was so cute (⁠●⁠♡⁠∀⁠♡⁠) #mlqc spoilers #mlqc cn #mlqc shaw #mlqc ling xiao #mlqc translations #mr love queen's choice #mlqc #love and producer

[lya-dustin]

The Dornish Princess

Aemond x fem! Dornish!reader

Cw: mentions of murder, false identity, theft

Tag list: @valeskafics @queen--kenobi

You arrive in King’s Landing as a poor survivor of a shipwreck. All your nice things and clothes and servants and knights gone when the Wyldes found you on their lands.

The only proof of your identity was a waterlogged scroll naming you Coryanne Nymerios Martell, Princess of Dorne.

You looked the part, tan skin, dark hair and the haunting purple eyes of your Dayne mother and the manner of a gentlewoman. By the time you arrived at Court, you had been given all a woman of your station needed and letters were sent home to your sister to tell her of your rescue and invitation to court.

No one knew why your dead handmaid looked so much like you until you quietly explained she was your bastard sister and companion. But you didn’t really cry for her, she was just a bastard after all.

The bastard of Qoren Martell and a dragonseed from Lys.

“My congratulations on your betrothal, may the gods bless you and your intended, your highness.” You say quietly when you encounter the Prince Regent avoid his three and ten year old betrothed.

Little Floris Baratheon had been picked because it would be a good three years until she was old enough to be bedded, a smart move to prevent Baratheon from having too much power over the Greens and keep one’s freedom for as long as one needs it.

You were in a similar boat, your hand merited more than a vassal lord so your sister decided to sell you to the Prince of Pentos because she refused to wed. You were Aliandra’s heir; you were older than Qyle and next in line to be Princess of Dorne, you were everything Floris Baratheon and the rest of the ladies in Westeros were not.

Now it was all a matter of seducing the infamous kinslayer beside you.

His mother distrusted you, a smart decision, no one should trust you. If anyone looked too closely, they’d see it was not snake scales you wore.

“I am engaged to a child, and you are engaged to a man older than my dead father.” He said bluntly and you agreed. Both matches were bad, especially if you were a romantic at heart. It seemed the prince despite his appearance and cold exterior was one.

It wouldn’t be difficult to convince him you love him, or to make him love you. Everyone you met had that misfortune of loving you and becoming blind to your true nature.

It wasn’t the shipwreck that killed your sister, you had held her under the water until she stopped thrashing and came up with the story you fed to Lady Wylde and her company.

Aemond believed himself to be the exception to the faults of men, but he was only a man even if he rode the largest dragon since Balerion.

“A betrothed is not a spouse; the Prince of Pentos is not the first of my suitors to propose and die before the negotiations begin in earnest, you know.” You admit, hinting at the tragic and sudden deaths of all the men ---young and old--- who courted you since you first bled.

You sampled some of them when you grew older, those who didn’t satisfy you usually had hanger-ons who did, and tradition dictated that no bride prices cannot be returned should the groom die before the wedding takes place.

You had amassed quite a fortune in Essos, that was where you were heading. To find more unsuspecting men after your sister was forced to toss you out of Dorne after you slipped up and was almost caught.

Perhaps you could stay here instead. All signs pointed to the Prince Regent becoming King before the first chill came south.

If Prince Aemond was as good with his cock as he was with his sword, he’d be worth staying in Westeros.

Queen Coryanne, now that had a better ring to it than Queen Floris.

“And Lady Floris is not the first of mine to seek greener pastures.” His lips quirk slightly in amusement. He was notorious for evading matchmaking mamas and their daughters, Borros Baratheon may think a war would prevent Prince Aemond from going back on his word, but he’d never played against you.

“Shall we put it to the test?” you ask in a whisper knowing little Floris will be shuffled off to the youngest boy like an old shirt before the sun even sets.

You like him, despite it all, you cannot help but like him.

You are betrothed now, a small feast thrown in your honor as the Baratheon contingent leave and wage war against the Vulture King to spite both the Greens and Dorne at the same time.

But House Targaryen does not care, they got the better deal in you.

Gifts of money and finery and jewels were given to you by your soon to be husband, his mother and the nobles currying favor with the woman who is queen in all but name.

Your dowry would be partially paid in gold and in men. While Dorne was far less backwards than the rest of Westeros and women held equal rights like men, and end to the hostility between the realms.

“We can wed as soon as your dowry comes, my love.” he says as you lounge in your bed after a particularly trying morning. Aegon was growing weaker, Helaena and Jaehaera doing so terribly they had to be taken to the motherhouse in Oldtown to heal away from prying eyes and the need for men and heirs was as important as breathing.

Letters from Dorne had come, mainly thanking your prince and his mother for their hospitality and the promise of sending a proper envoy to negotiate the wedding. You pray the envoy comes by land instead of sea.

Who knows, perhaps Dorne would join the six kingdoms without bloodshed.

But it won’t happen.

The moment the envoy comes, you are fucked.

He won’t want you if he knew the truth. Loathes bastards, killed one even if the little fucker had his blood. Worse, you made a fool of him as you rob them all blind as you plan your escape before Aliandra exposes you as the fraud you are.

What would he do to you when he knows you are Y/N Sand and not your dead sister, Coryanne?

“Why wait, my love?” you kiss him to show how much you care for him, how little it bothers you to see him without his eye as he fucks a bastard into you as he calls you by a name you spit like a curse.

And like the lovesick fool he’s become, the two of you elope in the night. Two strangers stand witness, and you give your real name as a jape as a drunken septon names you man and wife.

Aemond will hate you and hunt you down, you know this you spend your wedding night in his rooms and see how happy you’ve made him.

“I love you, Y/N.” he breathes out and your heart catches in your throat. The boy he was under it all didn’t deserve it, but you can’t have him and no matter how much you pray for the envoy to drown, you know your past will catch up to you.

You are gone when he wakes.

Nothing, not even the furniture, is left in your rooms, nor is there a speck of gold left in the royal treasury except a valid marriage certificate signed and dated with your true name.

He will hate you, but you’d rather he hate you than ever forget you.

Part ii

#aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x dornish!reader #ewan mitchell

[what-do-1000-swords-look-like]

Everyone's talking about the part of Dean's prayer from the 15x09 script where he says he wanted Cas to stay and over here I'm living for this part of the dialogue: "When mom died, I blamed myself. Plenty. But even then, I had plenty left to go around. So I put what I couldn’t take on you." -- not that it's right what he did (and he knows it) but if that doesn't prove to anyone right there how Dean really feels, not sure anything else will. It's so blatant.

I have been screaming it for so long now, that the 15x09 prayer was meant to be Dean's version of the confession, that Berens (and the show) purposely did all of those parallels, and it's nice to see it confirmed by a line like this that he wrote at some point.

To me, this line is an earmark of a partnership. And I'm not talking about a working partnership, or a family partnership (like Dean and Sam for example), and or even a friendship partnership. This is something that tends to be a dynamic of another type of partnership altogether. The wording is super specific (I see you, Berens) and imho it's showing exactly how it was originally intended.

They always say that a person tends to unleash their crap and mistreat those they love more than any other person because they figure (and hope) that at the end of it, that person is still going to be there, that they will stay and won't leave. Again, not saying it's right at all, but it does sometimes happen. So the wording of "So I put what I couldn't take on you" shows that Dean trusted Cas enough and felt comfortable enough in their relationship at that point to take on what he couldn't. While it's blame for Mary's death that he's talking about, the lines before it show that Dean was doing his same ol', same ol'. Blaming himself for it all. And while he might blame others for things that occur and heap the blame on them (like Sam in other events, for example), he never blames anyone more than he does himself. He doesn't ever skirt away from it, even when we know it's really not his fault. Like Crowley said to him, no one hates him more than he hates himself. Even Dean has said it himself in earlier seasons, he blames himself for everything that goes wrong. So, the fact that he is shifting some of that blame (that he feels for himself I mean) onto Cas, the anger, not only is he admitting that he couldn't handle all of the self-blame and admitting this vulnerability (another character development happening in season 15 for Dean) but that's also what spouses/romantic partners sometimes tend to do when certain situations pop up/occur.

So when Cas ends up getting fed up (as he should) and gets ready to leave, Dean doesn't want him to (as we already knew) but because of Dean and his personality, who he is, he doesn't stop Cas from going up those stairs in 15x03. He thinks knows that he deserves for Cas to leave and like he's said before, everyone leaves him. And while Cas shouldered the blame that Dean laid on him, dealt with the anger and cold shoulder that Dean dished out, when he finally put his foot down (after that horrible thing Dean said in 15x03), Dean didn't stop him because he knew Cas was right and because Dean thought it was inevitable. So he let Cas go not only because he wasn't at the point that he wasn't ready to let it go/apologize/forgive but also because he figured Cas was better off.

So now when you see this scene again:

And you watch Jacting Joices, hear the emotional music cue (aka Dean's theme), listen to the dialogue, hear the echoing sounds (that the editors purposely left in) along with Dean of Cas going up the stairs and opening the door and leaving (you even hear the door close loudly), the pan out of the shot of Dean sitting frozen against the table, Dean's "where you going?" when Cas starts to leave, Cas' hopeful little look back before actually turning to leave, Dean's little internal war that we see play all over his face before (sadly? worriedly? I'm thinking both) watching Cas climb the stairs, the title of the episode coinciding with the actual rift Rowena closes/"heals" (think to her marriage counseling in Hell later on btw and how it connects back considering it was her death and how it affected Sam that became the catalyst for Dean unleashing on Cas, Sam who Rowena has stepping out of the room for the session btw) -- it all comes together even more. Especially considering Berens wrote this episode, too, and then later on, thee episode (15x18). And there were parallels galore between 15x09 and 15x18 themselves as a standalone. It literally was a three-act story line, starting with the "breakup"/rift.

And if he connected all three of these episodes not only for Dean and Cas' relationship but also for it all to come back down to Dean and his character development, his story within the story itself, then you know without a doubt that what we all have been saying about the whole Destiel/Saileen parallels of season 15 and the parallels of Charlie/Stevie, Saileen and Destiel in 15x18 is absolutely confirmed.

Berens is actually one of the better writers on the show in this later stage and all of these connections he made to tell this brilliant story within the series to come out in one cohesive and well plotted out story line that not only furthers the development for Dean in a big way but also Sam, Cas, their relationships, and the show in general just proves it. That's why I have such a massive respect for him, not just because he wrote thee episode, not just because he wrote that beautiful dialogue for Cas to say to Dean in thee moment, but because he knows his stuff and he absolutely brought it all home in such a beautifully heartbreaking but ultimately fantastic way in the episodes he was given to write. He accomplished so much within such a short time and he gave it his all and it worked. He knew what he had with Jensen for example, and he absolutely played to Jensen's strengths not only in his performance of Dean but also as an actor in general. The guy knew what he was doing, he chose to stick around for the end, and he accomplished what he set out to do. And as a fellow writer, he has my full respect not only for his determination, his follow through, his sticking to his guns, but also his creativity.

And what's funny is a lot of antis and wincesties and the whole 'Dean is straight!'/Jensen-fanatical crowd hate Berens with a passion. They blame him (as well as Misha, Hellers, the show, and anyone else who was open to the idea of this part of the story) for even putting it into the show. (and even funnier, if none of it is real as they say, then why hate Berens or anyone if it's only in the destiel crowd's heads? or why then switch to the whole 'they only put it in to pander to the hellers' excuse? ...uh huh) But he really knocked it out of the park. He really did this whole setup and strung it altogether like a master.

So for some that line of the dialogue that didn't make it into the 15x09 prayer might not mean much, but to those of us that were looking at the whole framework Berens set up this season and his connection of the dots (which led to Cas being one of the most important relationships for Dean this season, regardless of how you view it, Cas' words got through to Dean and set him up for one of his main points of character development by the end, in the conflict with the final villain of the series), this is pure gold. And more importantly, validation/confirmation.

And I am beyond convinced that had 15x19 not been the final episode of the mytharc, we absolutely would have seen Dean and Sam coming up with a way to rescue Cas from The Empty, and we wouldn't have had a final goodbye from Jack. We also would have found out what happened to Eileen, Alt!Charlie, and Alt!Bobby.

Just beautiful, brilliant storytelling. Lovely development from point A to point Z. All in one season. And while not everything was perfect and there were definitely some plot holes along the way in seasons before this (and that thing they called a series finale), and while this isn't how SPN started (or anywhere near Kripke's version), this is what it became years later, and Berens (and some other writers) were very in tune with it, while also maintaining the essence somewhat of the original characters/story.

Going back to that line of dialogue "So what I couldn't take I put on you" absolutely falls in line with who Cas is to Dean at this point. Regardless of how you view it, Cas was someone Dean trusted (even after Mary's 2nd death and all of the betrayals, drama, hurt, and anger along the way), someone who Dean let in, and someone who Dean depended on. We all make jokes that Dean and Cas were co-parenting Jack (with Sam of course) but in a way, that's exactly how it was set up. Because of who Cas was, not only to Jack, not only to Sam, but also to Dean. They're partners. Dean relies on Cas in the same way Sam and Eileen are beginning to rely on each other (further proof of that paralleling dynamic, "If she needs something from me, she'll tell me. We have an agreement").

"I'll go with you"

So that wording...that wording is everything.

#destiel #deancas #dean x cas #destiel meta #spnposts #spn #i am team berens and always will be #robert berens my beloved #his season 15 arc #brilliant #metaposts #destielposts

[eccentrickleptomaniac]

pls if you have the time, can you share your Germany headcanons?

Germany himself isn't really Germany- he's a partial-mergecon fusion of East and West Germany. "Essen what does that mean" basically their consciousnesses aren't exactly fused completely but they can't exactly unfuse either lol. The fusion lore is something for another day.

To like, everyone, he's known as a very professional person. He almost never drops the front, acting briefly and quickly with everyone from acquaintances to family. Ironically, none of his direct family is currently alive. While yes, he is, well, friendly, it's all very tolling and when he does finally let his guard down it's almost always because he's experiencing burnout, in which he won't leave his house for days at a time. Still, it doesn't deter him from being the hardest worker in the EU.

While his technical father is.. uh.. yknow who, he doesn't really consider him his parent. Due to the odd circumstances of his creation, (long story short he, along with his father, are parasites. they killed their hosts upon exiting their bodies. tr's was weimar, eg and wgs was allied occupied germany. yes i believe they're just twins and were not born as one. "essen how is tr their father if he died before they were-" tarantula hawk wasp situation.) he never actually met his father. Because of this, all people he considers parents were adopted. Those being, from EG's side, Poland and maybe the USSR, while on WG's side it was France and the UK. Nowadays, due to him being an adult at this point, he considers them more friends as opposed to adoptive parents.

I consider the Cold War more of a time where EG and WG were growing up as opposed to being full-grown adults. The two had basically no idea what was going on because of it, and were mostly just fed information by their parents that they, well, believed. I believe that until WG's attempts at repairing their relations, both sides of the wall had a mutual intense hatred for the other. There was also nothing stopping them from actually talking at any point: no physical barrier put in or any strict rules from the parents. Sure, literally neither side liked them talking to eachother: in the beginning France and especially the UK hated the idea of them fusing and the USSR, well, uh, was the USSR. But neither side was actually stopping them from talking to eachother.

I'll talk about them seperately now, starting with EG because I like her more.

EG was very, very quiet growing up. She was known among the Warsaw Pact for her ability to observe and find small details, as well as her bluntness. She would not speak up during dinner arguments unless she had something important to say. Along with this, she was a very dedicated person. Once she had her mind on something, it was very hard to get her to stop. She especially loved machinery and computers. It wasn't uncommon to see her desk cluttered with random metal parts from a contraption she'd been building earlier. She was also very athletic, but that goes for like, the entire German bloodline. However, unlike most of her ancestors, she was also a very nonviolent person. Like, extremely nonviolent. Like, if she was being physically assaulted she would not fight back nonviolent. It's led to.. a lot of things, probably the most prominent being her half blinded eye caused by shrapnel during the East Berlin riots of '53. Albiet, that wasn't really any countries fault.. A better example would be the scar right above that eye. Yeah, that one was caused by her (adopted) father. Hooray for horrible parenting! Also random trivia I suppose; She and her brother are musicians. She does work primarily that of with synthesizers and electronic instruments. Think stuff of Machine Girl's soundtrack for Neon White. She's a fan of hardcore genres. If she was still around on her own when Prodigy became popular she would've loved that shit.

WG was much more outgoing than his sister and was always pretty much always the one initiating the conversations. It wasn't that EG didn't like talking to him, it was more she just feared he didn't like her. Which wasn't the case, usually, I think. Anyways, while being more outgoing than EG, he was also very much more opinionated on things. It was very hard to get him to change his opinion on someone if he didn't want to. He was also the only one of the two who got wing privileges and it made him into a cocky bastard. Out of everything WG liked to (LIGHTHEARTEDLY) tease EG for her not being able to fly was probably the biggest subject of his poking. It also made him into an overconfident bastard who faceplanted a few too many times into the pavement for him to be all alright. While his homelife was better than EG's, it still wasn't.. great. His adopted parents often threw jabs at him about his heritage. Like out of all the audios I've heard that I've been like, "Wow, this is so West Germany!", the biggest was literally the "What would Leonard Bernstein do?" bit from a John Mulaney special. Like, yeah thats just him with his parents. Anyways, he, like his sister, is also a musician! Albiet of a very different genre than her, he does stuff more akin to "real-world rock" as he calls it, he plays bass guitar pretty damn well and is pretty decent at drumming.

Ironically, the two had a lot of mutual friends growing up. Specifically Yugoslavia's kids. He was a very lax father figure, obviously he cared about his children but due to his absolute neutrality he almost never reprimanded his kids for any interactions with any country ever. Croatia and Slovenia specifically were friends with both of them. They're still friends today, actually. The two are pretty much some of the only people he lets his guard down around due to them being friends basically since birth.

Some misc stuff: Germany the Fusion™️ is actually Aroace. EG was a lesbian and WG was gay and due to the fact that they're pretty much constantly co-conscious now that the two have been fused they'd feel really weird actually dating someone. Now that he's fused he still does music, I believe mostly industrial synthpop but he likes to experiment with other genres too. On bad days he goes home and makes harsh noise. And I mean harsh. #Coping! He's pretty good friends with Japan and Italy. I like to think they call their groupchat "The Vertex Powers" as a direct jab at their parents. Speaking of.... all three are actually musicians. They work together sometimes. With Italy he tends to make more Aphex Twin/Mayhem + Darius type stuff while with Japan he makes stuff that sounds like Renard. If ur wondering what Japan and Italy make together, it's probably something that sounds like Darius + Rotteen or Infected Mushroom. So psytrance!

I hope this suffices, sorry for the wait!

edit 08/08/23: his """"government assigned"""" username is drawnExperimentation. eg's was dresdenDeceptacon.

#essen talks #ch hcs

[mindofharry]

In which you’re sam’s sister and bucky definitely has a crush on you.

this is my first piece for bucky, so i’m super excited and hope you like it!!! smut and fluff :D feedback is welcome as always. enjoy! <3

You loved being home.

After the blip happened and it felt like nothing was right anymore, you and sarah became closer than ever. You, sam and sarah have always been close. You’re those sort of siblings. You and sarah would sneak out together, top and tail on the boat and most importantly take absolute shit about your brother sam. But he did it right back.

Your parents raised you well.

The blip happened and sarah felt all alone. Actually, she was all alone except for her two boys. You got the first plane back home and immediately became like the boys’ second mom. You’re the cool aunt. The good cop. The boys absolutely adore you, the same way they adore sam. They just don’t see him as much as you and sarah would like. It’s not his fault, he’s off being a superhero or whatever.

You’re still not completely sure what he does. Flying? Fighting? Putting away bad guys? Who knows. And honestly, now, you’re past the point of caring.

Sam came home, said he’d take care do stuff and then he upped and left again. But it’s superhero stuff, sarah said. To cut him some slack. So that’s exactly what you’re trying to do now as you watch sam absolutely destroy the boat. You’re over with a clipboard, helping sarah tick things off, double checking everywhere is where they’re supposed to be. Sam is meant to be fixing up the boat, so you can sell it.

Not that you want to.

But he’s definitely making it worse.

A tall, brunette man comes over to your brother, helping and teaching how to mend that specific part of the boat. You bit your lip looking at the way the brunettes muscles bulged and the way his veins popped.

Veins? Seriously? You’re really finding vein attractive right now. You can tell that sam and the mysterious man are somewhat friendly, but you can almost feel the tension and you’re a good bit away from them.

“Y/N?” Sarah called again, getting fed up. You were too distracted looking at the hunk fixing the boat. Sarah followed your eyeline and then understood why you were distracted. She hummed and put down the cup in her hand, dragging you along the pier to the boat. You didn’t even register what was happened until halfway there.

“Sarah, what are you doing?” You asked shaking her hand, sarah just giggled shaking her head. You deserved this. Sarah wasn’t going to let you talk yourself out of this one, not for her or the boys. You always did this and although sarah appreciated you not bringing random people back home, she wouldn’t mind you going out and finding some new friends. Sarah always feared that she was holding you back, especially after the blip.

“I’m helping you out” She whispered as you both came into view of the boys. Sam saw the look on sarah’s face first. Oh shit, he thought. Sarah didn’t know when to stop meddling or when was the right time to do shit like this. Sam was not going to let either of his sister go out with bucky barnes.

Not happening.

Bucky hadn’t seen a woman more beautiful then you before. Your hair is natural, curly but you suited it. It went right around your round face ending at your shoulders. Your eyes are blue and bright, nothing like Sams. But Bucky can tell your all siblings from your cheeks, they’re like apples.

Sam looked at Bucky and saw him looking you up and down, Sarah was trying to be discreet so were you and maybe sam would’ve fell for it, if you and Bucky weren’t eye fucking each other.

“I’m sarah” Sarah said, giving bucky a welcoming smile. Bucky smiled back nodding his head, and then looked to you. You placed one hand on your hip and the other hand was still holding onto the clipboard.

“Y/N” You said smiling at him, more flirtatious. Bucky bit his lip and leaned against the boat machinery.

“Bucky” He replied quickly, sam looked over at sarah and then the two. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. You tutted at sam, before sarah pulled you away from the two boys. You both giggled all the way back to your ‘station’.

Sam looked at bucky, as bucky watched you walk away. The sway in your hips even made him hard.

“Do not flirt with my sister” Sam said and bucky rolled his eyes.

“Of course”

Bucky walked off, leaving sam to stand there and try to piece together what just happened. You and bucky? His sister and the winter soldier?

Not fucking happening.

You and sarah arrived home, the boys came home about an hour later. The neighbourhood always helps out with schools runs and just looking after the boys, you and sarah always make sure to do the same. Some of these people helped raise you and your siblings. It’s the least you guys could do.

“You have any homework?” You asked, placing a hand on your nephews head. He shook his head and continued to eat.

You loved those boys to death. You’d do anything for them.

After helping with dinner and helping the boys get ready for bed, you decide that maybe heading to bed early would be nice. You haven’t been getting much sleep lately, not with sam out with those dangerous flag smashers. Something about them doesn’t sit right with you. But you understand that sam has a job to do, you’ll just have to get over it.

“I’m heading to bed” Sam said, poking his head inside your room. You were laying on top of your bed, comfy clothes on. You smiled and got up, going to hug your brother.

“I missed you” You said and sam sighed holding you tighter. “You know i always miss you more” Sam teased kissing your forehead.

“My friend, from the boat, bucky is staying over just for tonight. If you go down, make him feel welcome. not too welcome though” Sam warned, pulling back from the hug and pointing his index finger at you. You shrugged and leaned against the wall.

“Can’t promise anything, Sammy” You said and Sam rolled his eyes, before walking off to his room mumbling some gibberish. Probably annoyed at the comment you made. His friend is hot, and you can just tell from looking at him that he has a big dick.

Bucky barnes has bde. Big dick energy. There’s no denying that.

You walk over to your bed and curse yourself when you see there’s no water on your bedside table. It takes you even longer to sleep without a nice glass of cold water, you don’t know why but it’s been like that since you were a child.

That means you have to go down and see bucky.

You have no idea why you’re so nervous. Well, you do, he’s hot. But he’s sam friend. But he’s hot.

You contemplate for a good five minutes, before deciding that you’ll get your drink. This is your house and you’re both adults. You can do this, say hi, get your drink and then go to bed. It’s easy enough.

You open your door and make your way down to the kitchen, to get to the kitchen you have to walk through the living room. Where bucky is.

He probably doesn’t even remember your name, relax you told yourself. You opened the living room door and was met with a wide awake bucky. He was still clothed (thank god), laying on his back watching tv. He looked up immediately when he saw you.

“Did i wake you, i’m sorry” He apologised sitting up trying to find the remote.

“No, no i was just coming down to get a drink” You said, cursing yourself at how shaking your voice was. Bucky definitely heard the tumble in your words, he smirked to himself.

You grew a little more confident with that. As you walked into the kitchen, you swayed yours hips a bit more and bent down to get a glass. You made sure bucky could see. You heard him groan under his breath. Fuck, he sounds so good.

“Can i sit?” You asked and bucky nodded quickly, moving over on the couch. He was watching some stupid drama show, you could tell he really didn’t understand it. It was endearing to say the least.

“I-“

“So-“

You both laughed, you looked down at your water.

“So, are you and sam close?” Bucky asked and you nodded. “Yeah, all of us are. We were definitely those siblings” You said and bucky nodded.

“Were?” He asked and you shrugged, looking down at your water again. “Sams a superhero. He’s got more important things to do. Sarah and i stayed close, but sam just drifted. But we’re getting better again” You said, and bucky nodded kind of understanding. It was the same with him and steve when they met again. They drifted, but they put in the work.

But then steve left.

“How are things with you?” You asked and bucky sighed.

You knew you weren’t going to get an honest answer, so you didn’t push when he didn’t answer.

A few minutes passed, no one talked. And then, bucky looked over at you. You were looking at the tv, laughing softly. Your eyes lit up and your smile was huge.

“You’re beautiful” Bucky whispered and you looked over at him, eyes widened. “So are you” You whispered moving closer to him. Bucky took the water out of your hand and placed it on the floor, before looking back up at you.

“Can i kiss you?” He asked and you whimpered nodding your head. “Please” You said and bucky, crashed his lips into yours. You moaned quietly, trying not to attract any unwanted attention. His lips are soft, warm and inviting. You never want to stop kissing him.

He pecks your lip, moving so he could take your shirt off. You were bare, your tits out and bucky couldn’t keep his eyes off of them.

“Sit back” You ordered, taking his shirt off, then sitting on his lap. You had your knees on either side of bucky, your hands on his shoulders. His eye were wide and he was dying to kiss you. Fuck, he was already so infatuated by you. He wished he knew you before. Before everything. Before the winter solider, before all the wars even before steve.

“I’m going to ride you” You said and bucky nodded, pecking your lips three times. You bit your lips trailing your kisses down his neck, he moaned and you shushed him.

“Don’t want anyone hearing us, ok?”

You sit up to remove your shorts and bucky chuckled, “No underwear?” He asked and you shrugged. “Had a feeling i was going to get fucked tonight” You said and buckys eyes almost rolled to the back of his, he could cum his from your dirty words.

You moaned as bucky pressed his thigh against your core. Buckys hands were on your hips, guiding you on which to go with your hips. His jeans were hitting just the right place. You rock your hips down against his thigh, opening up your eyes to see bucky already looking at you and biting back a moan.

“Now are you going to fuck me or not?”

Bucky wasted no time in take his pants off. You nearly toppled off the couch and that made you giggle loudly, bucky put his hand over your mouth to stop you. God, you liked that way more than you probably should of.

Buckys tip teased your bundle of nerves, slowly inching himself in. You moaned and through your head back in pleasure. He was huge, and you were going to be really fucking sore, but it is so worth it. You begin to move, bucking your hips up, that makes bucky groan and then it’s your turn to put your hand over buckys mouth.

Oddly, he likes it too.

Bucky guides you down on his cock again, a little more rough this time kneading your ass cheeks. You whimpered bouncing up and down. He slapped your ass and you moaned, bringing your down to his shoulder to bite it. Fuck, so much pleasure all at once.

It’s euphoric.

Bucky took this as his opportunity to pound up into you. He’s never felt this close with someone before.

“I’m gonna cum” You said and bucky nodded.

“Gonna cum together” Bucky said sternly.

You both hit your climax at the same time, your shaking and buckys mind is in another dimension leaning against the back of the couch.

“Fuck” You said getting off of buckys lap.

He smirked and pecked your lips.

“Yeah, fuck”

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #tfatws #sam wilson #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes headcannon #bucky barnes concept #bucky barnes asks #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes requests #bucky barnes blurbs #bucky barnes x you

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 317: My Boy Was Just Like Me

Previously on BnHA: AFO randomly blew up Lady Nagant as a good reminder of why you should never make a deal with this fucking guy, smdh. Hawks was all “well if it isn’t my two best friends, Deku and Lady Nagant, both of whom I respect and love tremendously.” Everyone was all “??” and Horikoshi was all “shh... just pretend” because it was too embarrassing for him to admit that he forgot to write a couple of set-up flashbacks I guess. Anyway so Hawks got Lady to tell them where AFO was hiding out, and everyone said goodbye to her and Overhaul, who never did get to see his boss (sorry buddy, I’ll send you a vial of my tears in the mail), and headed out to a house in the woods. AFO was all “hello Deku :) :) it sure is fun making you suffer :) :) :) anyways this is a trap”, and blew up the house. Yeah, we all here are getting reaaaaaaaal tired of your shit, AFO.

Today on BnHA: The Hawksquad and Edgeplatoon meet in a warehouse and are all “what should we do about the fact that everything sucks?” Mt. Lady is all “here’s a thought, what if we tried battling AFO with more than six people.” Hawks and Endeavor are all “great initiative, but just a friendly reminder that our friends also suck and would probably betray Deku which would suck further still.” Shouto is all “ANSWER THE PHONE DAD” and Endeavor is all “[IRONICALLY DOESN’T ANSWER THE PHONE].” Meanwhile over in Sadtown, capital of Sadland Prefecture, Japan, Deku is all “All Might, as you can clearly see I am completely fine and good, never been better in fact, definitely not caught up in the throes of an epic mental breakdown which is shutting me down emotionally, anyway so on that note I would like to leave you now goodbye!!” All Might is all “[can’t actually form any words because he’s too distraught].” Fandom is all “o(╥﹏╥)o.” Horikoshi is all “(*＾-’) 乃 [pew pew finger guns and barrel rolls into the darkness].”

sweet jesus lord

this literally doesn’t even look like Deku anymore?? this looks like Dark!Deku who shows up to fight you in that one room in the Water Temple. he looks like he’s about to crawl out of my television set and murder me with his psychic powers good lord

holy shit lmao Horikoshi is really just shrugging his shoulders and resolving last week’s cliffhanger with a single line of dialogue

fire is no one’s weakness. idk what other options you’ve got, AFO, but you’re gonna have to go back to the drawing board. maybe try bees or something. I’m just saying. we’re all expecting fire at this point but nobody is expecting bees

anyway so now they’re all sitting in some warehouse somewhere chatting about it I guess. shoutout to Horikoshi for finally giving my man Edgeshot some more dialogue at long last

well, Edgeshot, to answer your question, she exploded. so naturally she’s fine

nah just kidding, Hawks says she won’t be able to help them out much because she’s recovering from being exploded. this is the part where we all ignore the fact that Hawks got set on fire for like a full ten minutes back during the War arc and was only in the hospital for a day. anyways enjoy your temporary plot hiatus Nagant

man there’s a lot of dialogue here and I’m trying to figure out where to insert commentary but it’s kinda difficult lol. basically, Edge and the others are saying that they should gather up the other remaining heroes and get them all caught up on the whole OFA situation. which, hmmmm

like on the one hand, these guys definitely aren’t going to cut it on their own, so it’s a reasonable suggestion on the face of it. but on the other hand, do we really want to entrust the OFA secret to a bunch of other people, most of whom shat the bed during the War arc to be quite frank? is it really worth the additional risk? especially given that any one of them might go spilling the beans to the public -- or worse, betray them to AFO??

also just a quick side note here, Mt. Lady’s character development never ceases to delight me. she’s become so committed to her responsibility as a hero these days, and it fucking suits her. I genuinely consider to be one of the elites now. I mean it doesn’t hurt that all the other elites are fucking dead lol but still

wait what? Death Arms retired??

Death Arms as in the guy who was too afraid of a little fire to try and save a terrified 14-year-old kid who was slowly suffocating right before his eyes?? that Death Arms???? color me surprised. shocked, I tell you

...okay but holy fuck

Death Arms. bro. my expectations for you were low but holy shit. like I’m sorry, but I don’t even have it in me to try and pretend like I feel the slightest bit of sympathy for him or Old Man Samurai or any of those other guys today. thanks for a whole lot of nothing my dude. good riddance

(ETA: so I’m rereading this the next day and realize this comes off as kind of harsh, so let me just try to clarify. it’s not the fact that he’s quitting that bothers me, to be honest. it’s the fact that he’s quitting specifically because he feels like the public is being mean to him. that’s it.

seriously. it would be one thing if he was quitting because he was scared, because now that is human. nobody wants to die, and I doubt any amount of training can ever fully prepare someone to go up against that fear. but the thing is, he never once mentions that, or talks about the danger aspect. instead, I got the distinct vibe from this speech that Death Arms is one of those people who only became a hero because of the limelight. and I just don’t have any patience for that. if all you care about are likes and subscribes then go become a fucking youtuber or some shit. nothing wrong with that! but you didn’t; you signed up to be a hero and protect these people. they gave you their respect and admiration because they trusted you to protect them. and now that they’re no longer in the mood to worship and applaud your every move on account of them being scared shitless because they’re living in the literal end times, you decide to dip. so like okay, fine then. don’t let the door hit you on the way out. anyways lol sorry for the rant.)

anyway so yeah. perfect example of why I don’t exactly have a ton of faith in most of the remaining heroes out there lol. also let me just once again give a shoutout to my best girl Mt. Lady whom I suddenly find myself appreciating all the more

“please calm down makeste. drink some water and enjoy this fresh new jeans pun” listen Horikoshi don’t tell me what to do dammit

fine. it is a nice pun, I guess

-- damn so now Endeavor’s saying that the media is already being fed info by the retired heroes. so for some of these guys it wasn’t enough for them to abandon all the people they swore to protect and to leave their fellow heroes out in the cold; they decided they might as well actively make things worse for them while they were at it, huh. like I get wanting to spill all the dirty secrets from your old job that you just quit, but this isn’t Jeff Bezos you’re screwing over, this is a sixteen-year-old kid

-- like, yes!! this, right here!!

exactly!! let’s not forget that there are already two prior instances of this happening. Endeavor arguably deserved it, but Katsuki not so much

huh. Endeavor seems to have a more optimistic outlook regarding this than I do lol

I mean, this is the same public that didn’t hesitant to blame a kidnapped child for his own kidnapping, and then later on for being the downfall of the Symbol of Peace. but okay then

anyway so blah blah blah, more talk about how they need to use Deku as bait, which basically puts them back at square one, and then they’re all just trailing off into silence and sitting around in the dark lmao this is getting very depressing

SKDJFLSDKJ:LFKJ

SHOUTO?????

NOOOOOOOO ARE YOU KIDDING ME

OH HOW THE TURNTABLES OMG. THE GHOSTER HAS BECOME THE GHOSTEE. Endeavor you petty son of a bitch. and what a brutal cut to that flashback too. “let’s stop Touya together” nah Shouto I’ve got a better idea why don’t I abandon you in U.A. and sally off with Hawks and Jeanist to found the “let’s pretend like we’re doing something to help Deku” club, which basically consists of us sitting around making terrible decisions all day long

Shouto, honey. you deserve better my little Coca Cola can. .........but if you really do have something important you need to tell your dad you could just text it to him. all the love and support, hugs and kisses, you’re doing amazing sweetie. but if you need to pass on any vital information you can just write it down and hit send honey that’s all I’m saying love

now he’s getting another call?? -- or, no, Hawks is getting a call from All Might

ARE YOU FOR REAL HAWKS OMFG

so while you all were sitting around talking about how useless you are, the kid you’re supposed to be protecting was battling another hired gun. I see. please pardon me for one second, I have a phone call to make. the phone call is to RockLockRock and Manual. the reason for the call is to apologize for calling them the worst bodyguards ever back during the War arc. the reason for the apology is because it turns out I WAS SEVERELY MISTAKEN OMFG

JESUS CHRIST DEKU DID YOU JUST KILL THIS MAN LMAO

shoutout to Horikoshi for offscreening this fight. we get it, lol. Deku strong and scary, villains ineffectual and feeble, and AFO... [checks notes] yep, still a dick. the angst arc continues

-- the angst arc continues, SIR

jesus christ I may have to rethink all of my opinions about Deku being framed for murder in movie 3 lmao. never mind. he did it, your honor

holy fucking shit Deku. “he might blow up, so please be careful” fdlskjflk jlskdjflk lwkejflk anyway so I’ve decided the explosion running gag can stay, actually

DEKU WAIT YOU FORGOT YOUR LUNCH!!

lol why do I get the feeling some serious shit is about to go down. ALL MIGHT NEVER MIND BACK OFF I THINK HE NEEDS HIS SPACE

OH MY FUCK I GASPED OUT LOUD

NO NO NO. I KNEW THIS WAS COMING GODDAMMIT BUT NO. NEVER MIND, I CHANGED MY MIND ABOUT IT, I’M NOT READY TO CRY TODAY

shit. shit shit shit shit and OF COURSE all I can fucking think about is that stupid fucking prophecy and gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Deku please. please please please if you really are going to leave All Might here, please be so very careful in choosing your farewell words to him now because have this sudden horrible fear that this might be the last time you ever see him alive and oh god. oh god oh god

DEKU NO, YOU’RE REALLY NOT!?!?

I HAVE NEVER SEEN ANYONE LESS FINE IN MY LIFE, ACTUALLY????

holy shit. and the fucking callback to the prophecy now. just in case we forgot. WHICH FYI, WE DIDN’T. but that’s basically confirming that this is all still very much on the table and HORIKOSHI NEVER FORGETS oh my god someone please hold me

and the fact that Deku’s flashing back to it now too, though?? because he never forgot either, because of course he didn’t, and now all this stuff is happening, and AFO’s words are getting to him, and this is literally his worst fear come to life and so of course he’s distancing himself from everyone, and now it’s finally come to even this. even the person he admires most

-- OKAY NO, FUCKING COME ON ALREADY I CAN’T TAKE THIS

I GET IT OH MY GOD, I ALREADY UNDERSTAND THE EMOTIONAL IMPACT OF THIS MOMENT WITHOUT ALL OF THE DEVASTATING FLASHBACKS THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH!! YOU ACTUALLY DO WANT ME TO CRY, HUH, IS THAT IT. THIS MAN THAT HE THINKS OF AS A FATHER, THIS MAN WHO HAS BEEN EVERYTHING TO HIM SINCE HE WAS A VERY YOUNG CHILD. EVERYTHING THEY’VE BEEN THROUGH, JUXTAPOSED AGAINST EVERYTHING DEKU IS UP AGAINST, EVERYTHING THAT’S AT RISK. LET’S JUST PUT IT ALL SIDE BY SIDE. LET’S JUST PILE ON ALL OF THE FEELS

(ETA: just a quick note that even though some of the posts I’ve read have described these as All Might’s flashbacks, I’m pretty sure they are Deku’s. most of these are scenes that only he was there for, so yeah. even though All Might is the one thinking the thoughts on the next page, the flashbacks are what’s running through Deku’s mind right now, and so we’re getting that emotion from both of them, which makes it extra devastating lol.)

wait, what???

WHAT??? do you really think that’s why he’s been so determined to protect you this entire time?? simply because you’re his successor?

-- oh no wait lol I think I got that mixed up, this is All Might saying that Deku feels the need to protect him. well that makes more sense lol

oh my god I cannot

his last words. his last words to him. and we can’t even see if he is smiling, like All Might always encouraged him to do. but what are the odds he can’t actually bring himself to do it. what are the odds he’s actually crying. oh god this scene is going to rip my heart out and STOMP on it in the anime isn’t it. Deku’s VA is going to full on murder me with emotion. not that there’ll be much of me left to murder after the thorough job that Horikoshi has already done here

YOU’RE CRYING. DEKU IS LEAVING ALL MIGHT AND IGNORING HIS OUTSTRETCHED HAND AND YOU’RE CRYING. AND BY “YOU” I MEAN “ME”, FUCK

nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope no words just feels just a big ol’ pile of feels. I do not have the strength. future me... [broadly gestures] good luck with all that

(ETA: LOL, WELL THEN.

what breaks my heart here is All Might. All Might, and everything he’s been through, and history repeating itself, and forcing him to live this moment from both sides because he wasn’t strong enough to fix things.

Toshinori had only just turned eighteen when Nana died. like, I feel like we don’t mention this enough. the All Might we know is a sixty-something-year-old man, and so everyone always talks about him like he’s basically been an adult forever. but he was a child when he met Nana. and he was still just a child when she died. barely a year older than Deku is now. younger than Mirio was when we first met him.

and we don’t talk about that. we don’t talk about how devastating that was for him. and we don’t talk about how the reason he grew up to become so reserved and withdrawn -- for all that he always tried so hard to outwardly project the image of a bold, confident, smiling hero -- was specifically because of what AFO did to him. because AFO targeted him in the exact way that he is now targeting Deku. because that’s what he does. he goes after every new user of OFA, and he finds out what’s most important to them, and then he destroys it. and for Toshinori, that was Nana. if you’ve read All Might Rising, you know that AFO basically killed her in front of him (and only killed her, while letting Toshinori and Gran get away). Toshinori (while crying) later says she was like a mother to him. and interestingly enough, during this same conversation, Gran tells Toshinori that he can see “that madness in [his] eyes” when Toshi talks about becoming strong enough to defeat AFO. madness in his eyes. sound familiar??

what’s happening to Deku now is the exact same thing that happened to Toshinori when he was a boy. AFO tried every bit as hard to break him as he’s trying with Deku now. “the path you’ve chosen is a thorny one. every battle grinds away at your soul with no end in sight.” we don’t talk about how Toshinori experienced this same thing for forty fucking years. and all the while isolating himself, exactly like Deku is doing now. pushing people away, exactly like Deku. because he never had anyone who was able to reach out and pull him back. and those words that he now finds himself frozen and unable to speak -- “don’t push yourself”; “you can rest” -- are the same words that no one ever said to him until decades later, when it was already far too late to make any difference.

everything that Deku is experiencing now is what Toshinori also went through. and it’s only now, as he watches it happen to his student, the boy he loves like a son, that he’s finally starting to realize the full extent of how wrong it was. you shouldn’t have to fight alone. you shouldn’t have to bear that kind of enormous burden alone. you shouldn’t have to push yourself, and you can rest. you can rest.

but it’s too late. just as he’s finally coming to understand it all, it’s all too fucking late. and he can’t say the words, he doesn’t know how to say the words, and then just like that, Deku is gone.

and he’s alone. again.)

I can’t. this can’t be their goodbye. I’m not ready. for this to be how they finally part, and then they never see each other again except in OFA. how is that fair. how is that fair. how is that fair

fuck me. lol. how many pages are left in this thing. let’s just wrap this up lol. so now of all the times for this fucking guy to finally show up

I can’t believe Stain has been here literally this entire time hiding behind this random wall and cutting onions. that was you who was cutting the onions, right. no need to answer that we’ll just say it was

HORIKOSHI JUST END THE CHAPTER PLEASE I’M OUT OF SPOONS. YOU HURT ME SO GOOD AND I LOVE YOU FOR IT BUT YOU NEED TO LET ME GO NOW SO I CAN BEGIN THE PROCESS OF TRYING TO PUT MY LIFE BACK IN ORDER HERE. SO WHERE ARE WE CUTTING TO NOW WHAT IS HAPPENING

Stain did you also let AFO give you a new quirk. what’s with you guys. do you like blowing up

oh nvm lol because they were talking about THIS GUY ohhhhhh my fucking god

THAT’S BECAUSE HE’S SAD, LINDA!! jesus

omfg. and so yes, good, the chapter is ending here now on page 15. for once I am FULLY on board with that lmao

anyway so tune in next week for more adventures of Werewolf Deku!! that is, assuming we don’t finally cut back to U.A. at long last, which is actually a strong possibility considering that this chapter will likely mark the end of volume 31. it sure wouldn’t kill Horikoshi to start giving us some hope after everything he’s just put us through lol. KACCHAN COME GET YA BOY

#bnha 317 #all might #midoriya izuku #and endeavor and hawks and mt. lady and all the rest of them I guess #literally forgot all about them by the end lol #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha meta #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #this wound up so long lmao I'm so sorry

[sweeethinny]

Hi! Today I saw a newborn baby and it got me thinking so maybe a Ron and hermione’s POV of them watching Harry and Ginny interact with newborn James Sirius, like maybe a dinner at the burrow and James being a month old or something like that , if you don’t want to though it’s fine! Don’t worry, las ve your fics btw

thank you anon, really, I had a shitty day, and writing about James Sirius being pampered by his parents, made me smile again <3 

i hope you liked it :)

Harry looked happy, very happy, Ron thought. He thought he never saw him as happy as Harry seemed when he held little James in his arms, sleeping peacefully after being fed by Ginny, his small hands clinging to his father's shirt.

He looked tired too, very tired, and Ginny looked even more so, they both had dark circles under their eyes, messy hair like someone who hasn't taken a real shower in a few days, and wrinkled clothes. They looked exhausted.

But still, when Ginny passed James Sirius to Harry to lull and put him to sleep, he looked radiant.

James had been born less than a month ago, Ron and Hermione had taken turns to help the two manage the house, make food, and still take care of a baby, so they always stopped by twice a week, checking to see if friends didn't need anything. Also, to see their godson, who Ron thought was the cutest and most beautiful baby he had ever seen.

The boy had fluffy, pink cheeks, a tuft of brown hair that looked like a beautiful mix between Ginny and Harry's hair - but it was still quite dark and messy, and Molly said the boy would look like Harry when he grew up - and the most adorable hands and feet that Ron ever thought he saw. Chubby and cute, that smelled like a baby and made him embarrassingly in love, making him kiss the soles of his feet, or ''hide'' behind his little hands, just to make James let out that giggle that was also the most adorable thing.

And when Ron looked at Harry cradling James, he thought his friend felt everything he felt, but elevated to the tenth power.

The guy looked ridiculously in love with James, a twinkle in his eye that Ron had never seen Harry have, even when he married Ginny. It was different, a completely different joy that everyone seemed to notice when they went to visit the two.

Ginny also looked very happy, of course, but Ron was a little swayed by Harry's happiness.

Molly had said it was as if James was able to turn a key on Harry that would trigger a side of him that no one had ever seen. As if that little baby, less than a month old, was able to finally make Harry look like the 25-year-old man he was, and not that frowning man who always seemed to be waiting for the worst to happen. Harry even started crying and showing feelings in front of everyone, without even looking embarrassed.

He looked almost stupid, crying like an idiot after James was born, showing his son on his lap through the nursery glass. Everyone was there, watching Harry smile like a fool and wipe away the tears that never seemed to end, waiting to pick up his son again.

'How are you doing?' He asked, after storing the food he had brought in the fridge and cupboards, organizing the kitchen and living room a little, going back to their room soon after, finding Harry still cradling James and Ginny in a different outfit from the pajamas from before. A tired smile on her face.

'Good, thanks for helping us.' She hugged him. Ginny had also become much more loving, she was always giving hugs and saying 'I love you' to the brothers when they left. 'James has been sleeping more now, still with us, but it’s too cold and he is never covered at night and would probably freeze if he slept alone.'

‘Still waking up every hour?’ Ron accompanied her out of the room as Harry prepared to place his son in his crib.

'He's been taking a break, waking up every three hours.' Ginny laughed, sounding exhausted, but still looking happy. 'Yesterday was the first night that he woke up only twice, which I am very grateful for.'

'Mione and I can take care of him in the afternoon for you and Harry to sleep.' Ron offered, again.

‘You don’t really need to, we’re holding up well.’ And again, Ginny denied, sitting on the island stool and eating the chicken salad that Ron had brought her. ‘Thank you, again, for helping us.’

'I thought you would like to eat real food.' He smiled. 'Harry told me that you don't even have time to cook.'

'Yes, James likes attention.' Harry walked into the kitchen, his old shirt wrinkled and his son's cloth over his shoulder, sitting next to Ginny and attacking his chicken salad, looking almost as hungry as Ginny. ‘I left some ready-made frozen foods, but I’m still trying to understand how the microwave works.’

'You should just apply a heat spell to food,' Ron debated, pouring juice for both of them. 'Mione sent to ask if you need an ... uh... ointment for your breasts. She said that because of the winter, your skin may be very dry.' He tried not to blush, but Ginny didn't even seem to mind the question, denying it and filling her mouth with salad.

'Harry bought it for me, but tell her that I appreciate the concern.'

'How are things at the office?' Harry asked, looking genuinely curious. Ron wondered if, one day, he would quit work to stay home with his kids, or being active was something Harry needed to feel useful. While he seemed happy to have won that time to be with his son, he also seemed happy that Ron was there to talk about what was going on at work.

'Boring as always.' Ron shrugged, laughing with Harry. 'Robards are in a very bad mood without you there, I think he is a little lost. And Joe finally called that guy from the Department of Transportation.’

'Oooh! Finally! Nobody put up with that sexual tension that surrounded them whenever he came to our office.’ Ron agreed. 'I think that maybe I should come back next week, just part time.'

'I miss you there, it's kind of lonely without having my mate to pretend I'm working when we're actually doing anything but that.' The two laughed, but again, Ron saw that look on Harry's face where he seemed torn between go back to work or stay with his child at home. ‘When do you start training again?’

'Only two months from now.' Ginny sighed. 'Gwenog said she can't take me back until at least three months of recovery.' She smiled, looking a little sad. ‘But doesn’t it look too soon? James will only be three months old and he won't have his parents around… We are still deciding how we will do it.' Harry nodded, his mouth full of juice.

'You will know what to do,' Ron said, smiling at both of them. 'You two look happy, even with sleep deprivation.'

'James brought a life to the house, even Teddy felt it, he came here over the weekend and he looked a lot happier, even when Harry said they couldn't fly.' Ginny smiled.

A few years later, when Ron held Rose for the first time as well and also cried like a fool, he would understand what Ginny was trying to say. For now, he just thought it was adorable as his sister and his best friend looked happy.

The war was over a few years ago, Ron thought that if there was anyone who deserved to be happy, it was Harry. And it was even better that it made Ginny happy too.

'Let me know if you need help, or a moment alone.' Ron raised his eyebrows maliciously, smiling at the two who laughed and looked at each other, seeming to be talking silently.

'Thank you mate, but I think the thing I most want to do in bed now, is to sleep.' 

#hinny #harry x ginny #romione #ron is a good brother and godfather #james sirius potter

[pleasantanathema]

Graves into Gardens | Reiner Braun x Reader | Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Sins of the Past

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Modern AU, spoilers up to season four, slight manga spoilers (only by including characters met later), captivity, mentions of violence, mentions of character death, enemies to lovers, angst, and eventual smut (don’t worry, it’ll come sooner than you think).

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: As promised, here’s chapter two! Chapter three will take a little longer to come your way as I have a final thesis due in a few days. Also, I promise that I’ll give answers to things that have happened in the past between Reiner and reader. Just gotta wait for the right time to reveal it all. 💕

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

          Reiner laid flat on his back, chest twisting with melancholy as he eyed the lazy ceiling fan. He couldn’t sleep even if he tried, not with the day’s events still so fresh in his mind. Everything happened too quickly, a whirling rush of movements and decisions that left him caught in a purgatory of past and present. When Zeke had kicked your head into the floor, Reiner instinctively put pressure on the trigger of the gun squeezed too tightly in his hand. He wondered if things would be easier if he had taken the situation into his own hands and not let you live to torment him another day.

           Though, he knew the ghost and the guilt would haunt him even more than your living presence.

           That saying was rolling around in his brain, the one his mother always used to recite whenever he’d get into mischief as a child, be sure your sins will find you out.

           Well, they had, and one of his biggest regrets was now asking him about fucking Marco Bott. How long had it been since he heard that name? The Scouts had stopped muttering it even before the boy’s blood ran cold. He still remembered the smell of gun smoke, remembered how Bertie had fallen into his chest and cried at the horror of it all.

           But there was nothing new to be said about that past, yet even still, Reiner feared that you already knew what had been left unsaid.

           He hadn’t even bothered to undress, just let his weight sink into his mattress until his restlessness got the better of him. He knew his agonies would call to be smothered, that his frustrations would lead to him marching down the same hallway to face the inquiries of an equally troubled mind.

           He debated going to Zeke first. He knew his comrades would still be up in the meeting room, sleep and disgust in their eyes. Last he checked in, the Chief had Bertie scribbling on the whiteboard as he threw out all the notions and ideas that they had on how to break you down, on what you could possibly know that would be of interest to them. Reiner hadn’t stayed long enough to watch the black ink dry—he didn’t want them to pry into his time with you. He’d told them just enough: you didn’t give him anything worthwhile other than admitting you might speak if you were fed information from their side as well. When he’d left, the last thing written out in bold letters was a list of lies to feed you.

           Reiner was going to end this shit. One way or another, you were going to disappear from his life again; he was going to throw you back into the sea of the past where you belonged, dead or alive.

           A sick pride boiled inside of him as he saw the shock and fear spread across your pretty face as he threw open the heavy metal door. Good, you should be scared of him.

           He spoke your name with a bitterness he’d become too familiar with, dragging a chair from against the wall to sit directly in front of your iron cage.

           He’d only been gone a few hours, yet you already looked more tired, a little more frail, like if he screamed too loudly you might melt into a puddle where you sat on the floor.

           Too much time alone with nasty thoughts can make you weak, that much he knew all too well.

           He cleared his throat, cracking his knuckles beneath his fist, “Listen to me. You talk now, and maybe I’ll be merciful and kill you quickly before the others get the chance to come pick at your bones.”

           “You know my stipulation, Braun,” he watched your eyes narrow, determination coating your voice, “answer my question and I’ll answer yours. Let me die knowing the truth about—”

           “There is no truth about Marco.”

           “I know you had something to do with it. I kept finding holes in your story, and now that I know who you really are, I have no doubt that there’s something you aren’t telling me.”

           An angry sigh rushed out of his nose. He didn’t know what he was thinking coming back here so soon, why did he ever suspect that you’d ease up on this issue? He should’ve known that all your disdain for him began when that idiot got himself killed.

           “Marco was cute and clumsy, you know that. He was in the wrong place at the wrong—”

           “No, he wasn’t!” you sat up on your knees, shackled hands shaking, “I trained that kid myself. I know he knew how to use his gear; I know he wouldn’t just…he couldn’t have gotten into that situation alone.”

           “You’re running out of time. Stop wasting your breath on something as useless as Marco Bott.”

           He could tell there were more words brewing in your mouth, but you were swallowing them down.

           Reiner leaned his elbows on his knees, burdensome back hunching as he debated what to do here. He watched you closely for a moment, saw how you were constantly shifting your weight, fidgeting with the cuffs around your wrists. Bruises were blooming on your skin, especially around the tender flesh of your fingers where he had crushed them earlier. A vile mixture of remorse and compassion spread down his nerves at the sight of you.

           “My friends don’t know I’m here,” he admitted, observing how your still brilliant eyes looked up at him.

           “I was once your friend, you know.”

           You spoke the words so slowly, so dolefully that he actually felt them begin to pierce at his heart.

           “We were never friends.”

           That much, he knew, was a lie.

━━━─── • ───━━━

          “Reiner,” your tongue pressed against the back of your teeth as you stared into his golden eyes. He felt dangerous, fingers mean against your flesh, digging into your thigh, petting at the column of your throat.

           But you felt protected, secure, your hands threatening to tear at the buttons of his shirt from how tightly you clung to him. You craved a comfort that you’d come to find from being pressed against his body.

           “I’d kill someone for you, I hope you know that.”

           You wondered if the same memory was playing in his mind, behind his older, more noble face. You felt them, the sins of your past, like a heavy string binding the two of you together in this cold room. You knew there were feelings you could tug on, emotions that could have you both tumbling to the floor and wishing that the past could be washed away. But there were too many scars, too many faults that bound you together, wounds that time could not heal.

           And you knew your time was running thin.

           Selfishness reared its ugly head. You wanted to live, you needed to get back to Paradis, back into the arms of the people you loved. You didn’t want to die because of your stubbornness, or out of some forged loyalty that you knew friends would even give up if it meant being together one last time.

           “We know about the arms trading,” you conceded, head hanging low.

           You heard his chair scrape against the floor as he sat to attention.

           “How?”

           You thought about all the carefully considered words that you’d played in your mind earlier. You couldn’t give too much, but you had to lay enough on the table to make yourself valuable, to perhaps make yourself trustworthy. You needed to sprinkle lies into the truth, give a little in hopes of taking a lot.

           “Not everyone knows. It has been an investigative project I’ve been working on with Erwin and Miche…” you sucked in a deep breath, eyes closing, “we only figured it out because it came up as we were inquiring into the legitimacy of the President of Paradis. We’re pretty sure he’s a pawn, that there’s some untouchable group of aristocrats pulling his strings and ruling the nation from the shadows.”

           You waited patiently to see if he had any remarks, but the brooding man before you stayed silent. You could feel the weight of his gaze, scrutinizing, curious, perhaps disappointed that you’d be willing to give away secrets so easily.

           “That’s what you can give to Yeager. Tell him that…tell him that I’m tired of working and killing for a government that I can’t trust, whose true intentions I don’t know. Tell him I’m willing to work with him.”

           “And why would he be interested in that? You’re much more valuable as an information source than an agent.”

           You finally lifted your face to him then, a bold trepidation creeping over your skin.

           It was now or never.

           “Reiner, what I have to say next is something I’ve saved only for you. You can do with it what you will, but I beg of you, be careful with it. This could hurt you as much as it could hurt me in the long run.”

           Part of you expected him to leave again, to bristle at the thought of hearing something he doesn’t want to know.

           But he stayed, brows wrinkling together as he studied you before him. You felt like a beggar at his feet, spreading out all you carried in hopes that it was enough to appease the executioner before you.

           “Tell me,” he demanded, “though I make no promises to keep it silent.”

           You felt your courage implode. You almost wanted to gobble up your information and let it rest inside you forever to be gnawed at by your conscience.

           But if there were any fragments left of the man you once knew, of the Reiner Braun who had once held you so dearly, you knew that he would latch on to your words.

           “Zeke—your war chief—is working with Paradis. He’s plotting something so devious that even Erwin can’t pinpoint what it is, but we are certain he has contacts within the government that go beyond securing weapons for Marley.”

           You took a moment to pause, to let what you were saying sink into that thick skull of his.

           “Reiner, something seriously fucked up is going to happen if we don’t figure out what’s happening. And what’s happening is bigger than us—it’s bigger than all the shit we’ve been through. Help me, or it will be more than just me dying.”

You surveyed him as he straightened his broad shoulders, rolling them like a predator who was examining his prey. You’d just offered your life to him, held it out on willing hands with perhaps irresponsible words.

           You held in a sob as he left wordlessly, leaving his empty chair behind.

━━━─── • ───━━━

           Reiner sat with his arms crossed, trying to keep his face neutral as he watched Bertie haphazardly stretch his long arms across the board to erase of their previous work, writings of threaten Erwin, reveal the past of Paradis, and remove the bucket so she can’t piss all being wiped away from thought. He wondered, for a moment, if his friends were idiots, or just wasting time because they knew he’d wander back into her orbit sooner or later.

           He’d come straight to them, of course, straight to his trusted comrades and announced he’d managed to pry your lips open.

           Sans torture, he had stressed to Galliard.  

           But he had sat on the real information you gave him, letting your confessions about Zeke fester in his mind.

          Part of him wanted to believe you; he’d always been wary of his superior officer, always knew that his cunning and depravity could lead them all down a path of no return one day. But another part of him thought you were toying with him, trying to manipulate his doubts and sow seeds of skepticism into his mind. You’d always been so capable of getting whatever you wanted, always had a charm for subtle exploitation.

          “How can we believe any of this?” Annie berated, lighting a cigarette in the room despite knowing it was against Zeke’s rules.

          “Because we know she’s close to Erwin, close to the brass that runs the Scout Police Force,” Reiner countered.

          “More like she has always been up his ass, probably in his fucking bed too.”

           Reiner didn’t like the image that flashed in his mind, didn’t like the thoughts of the Commander running his hands across your skin, of you tangled in his sheets. He chided himself, worried it was a jolt of jealousy, but at this point, he could never distinguish his emotions anymore.

          “Annie,” Zeke hushed her, finally taking a seat at the rounded table instead of pacing a hole into the floor, “everything she has said adds up. I’ve kept our arms trading as quiet as I can, but if those little rats were going around interrogating congressmen, then it’s very possible one of them squealed on our operations just to keep their puppet president in power.”

          “So, it’s true then?” Bertholdt chimed in, shaking a marker within his aching fingers as he paused from taking notes, “that the government of Paradis is basically a sham.”

          “I’m afraid so.”

          And how do you know that? Reiner wanted to question, wanted to prod at the smug man who was waving cigarette smoke from his face.

          “So, what are we going to do with her?” Reiner finally addressed the elephant in the room, pulling at the last remaining thread to this horrible game they had gotten themselves into.

          “We’ll keep using her, of course. Though I don’t think she will give anything else up so freely. We need to give her some hope that we trust her, that she’s going to live through this little nightmarish web we’ve caught her in.”

          Reiner didn’t like the tone in Zeke’s voice. He seemed too relaxed, too humored by it all.

          It was at this time that Pieck wandered into the room, carefully balancing a crutch underneath her arm. She was carrying that soft smile of hers, leaning against the wall momentarily before also settling at the table.

          “A little birdy told me what all is going on,” she turned her grin to Galliard, whose chest puffed at his recognition, “Sorry I couldn’t make the last mission, Chief, the old leg just couldn’t handle it. But, I do have a suggestion to your little, hm, captive issue here.”

          The room felt tense, everyone focusing on the small woman as her prim cheerfulness refused to fade.

          “Let her free, under supervision, of course. Turn our old reconnaissance mission on its head; watch an outsider from inside our group, see if we can get her comfortable enough to open up again.”

          “Yes, exactly, Pieck!” Zeke let out a hearty laugh as he smacked the table with an open palm, wicked delight brightening over his features. He ran his fingers through his blonde ponytail, like he was settling into relief.

          Reiner felt his heart sink into his stomach, acid tearing at its flesh.

          “And it seems we have just the man for the job, seeing that he magically got the little vexation to open her mouth.”

          “No.”

          Reiner gritted his teeth, jaw flexing at the thought of being your god damn babysitter.

          “Oh yes,” Zeke fished around in his pocket then, pulling out a set of keys and sliding them across the table. Reiner didn’t move, just let the clinking metal fall into lap and sink into his thigh.

          “Go let her out of her cage, let her know we’ve agreed to take up her offer of help, but only if she follows orders and stays in your sight.”

          “Don’t you think a woman is more suited to this?” Annie chirped, carelessly smothering her cigarette out directly onto the table, hot ash settling into the grooves of oak.

          “You already passed on this task, sweetheart. Besides, it seems she might find Braun a little more tolerable after all.”

━━━─── • ───━━━

          And all this, all these words, all this fucking time passed, led to Reiner standing before you once again. His head rested against the rusted iron; grip so tight around the metal bars he worried he might actually bend them.

          He’d relayed the messages, but ensured you that this fucking Zeke business had stayed behind tight lips.

          When he opened his eyes, his vision focused on you, still sitting, an almost dumbfounded look on your tilted, tired head.

          “Thank you,” you whispered to him, a sincerity he wasn’t used to pooling in his ears, dripping down his skin.

          “Don’t thank me yet. There are still long nights ahead of you.”

          Ahead of him, he recognized.

          All he wanted was for you to disappear, to be washed away, but it seemed you were about to become a permanent stain on his life—a living, breathing body to remind him of the past he had left in the dark depths of his mind to rot.

          Be sure your sins will find you out, he mused, looking at a sin that might be too tempting not to partake of.

Next Chapter

#reiner braun #reiner #reiner braun x reader #reiner x reader #reiner x you #reiner braun x you #snk x reader #snk fanfiction #snk reiner #snk reiner braun #AoT #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #aot reiner #aot reiner braun

[eideticmemory]

FINE LINE | SPENCER REID

Two decades and two children later, you and your ex-husband learn to navigate the world of co-parenting.

Word Count: 2,604.

Warning: Daddy issues, mommy issues, angst, drama, romance. Love to see it.

You could feel it. The light illuminating your face, touching it with a gentle heat that made your eyes flutter open. Your head felt heavy, as if your neck was attempting to support the weight of a canon ball. You rested your skull on the back of the chair you sat in, eyelids dropping just above your irises. Just in the distance, you could make out a cinema screen. Large, blurry, projecting a bright white screen.

Her image appeared in the center of the square, perfect, in place, still. But you could make out the grin on her face. Watching her dark red lips release the words, “Hello, sleepyhead.”

You could just barely muster up the strength to part your lips, pushing out a small gust of air. It was hot and made your mouth feel like it was on fire.

“H—“

“Oh,” she interrupted you, gently, quietly. You jumped at the feeling of her touching your arm, her palm tight around your forearm. She was cold, freezing, but you could still feel warmth radiating off of her. “I’m afraid you can’t stay too long this time. It’s time to wake up.”

“Hm?” You whined. “Mm?”

“Wake up,” she repeated. “C’mon, wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake u—“

“Up!”

You jolted, violently, harshly, your eyes springing open to reveal the usual sight of your bedsheets.

“Mom, wake up,” an exasperated voice sounded from beside you, the words catching your attention instantly. Tightly.

“Huh?” You mumbled, flickering your eyes up to the figure at your side, sitting on your bed, looking at you with a concerned stare. “Hm?”

“Are you alright?” Eden asked. Sunlight shone on her face, giving her the appearance of an angel. Sent to wake you, pull you back into reality. “What were you dreaming about?”

You let out a long sigh, as if you could even begin to explain your subconscious mind to your 15-year-old daughter. “Oh, y’know,” you whispered, sitting yourself upright and resting back against the headboard. “Just...lions, and tigers, and bears.”

“Oh my,” Eden responded, her big brown eyes concentrated on your face.

You chuckled underneath your breath, and let out a quick huff. “Oh, shoot, is your brother up?”

“He’s up, he’s dressed, he’s fed, and reading the Illiad.”

“Oh?” You stepped out of bed, pulling the duvet over your legs to reveal your pajama pants. “What happened to War and Peace?”

“He finished that yesterday.”

“He gets quicker every hour,” you shook your head.

“It’s a genius thing,” Eden shrugged. She fiddled with the ends of her hair, watching the strands brush over her fingers as she chewed her lip. “Hey, mom?”

“Yeah, kid?” You replied, standing in the bathroom mirror as you began to get ready for the day.

“You—you know dad, right?”

You stopped in your tracks, any and all movements coming to a halt. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and you spun on your heels, slowly, until you came face to face with Eden. “Uh . . . your dad?”

“Yes.”

“Tall? Long, brown hair? Hazel eyes? Has a birthmark on his right thigh?” You listed, toothbrush hanging from your mouth.

“Ew,” Eden cringed. “Yes.”

“Never met him in my life,” you shrugged.

“Mom.”

“Kid,” you tilted your head, face softening as you realized how nervous she was. “What’s up?”

She sighed, ducking her head down to avoid eye contact. “I invited him to my sweet 16.”

“Oh.” It came out like reflex. You said the word before you could fully process the information.

“Are you mad?”

“No—huh? E,” you rushed to sit beside her. “You don’t have to hide inviting your father from me—you—you don’t have to invite your father at all. He’s always welcome to visit on your birthday. And of course he should be at your sweet sixteen.”

“Really?” Eden questioned, eyebrows raised. “So, it will be a nice day? A nice party? Everyone will be nice to everyone?”

“Yes, yes, girl scouts honor.”

“Good,” she nodded, a satisfied smile on her face. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him.”

“Oh, babe,” you murmured, tucking her hair behind her ear. “It—“

“Mom!” A shrill voice struck both of you with fear, coming out of nowhere.

“Yes, my love?” You directed at Emerson, watching him fidget with his hands in the doorway. His shaggy brown hair covered his face slightly and his button up was tucked into his khaki shorts.

“My chess tournament starts soon, are you coming?” He asked.

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world, kiddo. You and your sister go downstairs while I get dressed.”

They’re obedient, your kids. Kind, driven, smart — with an average IQ of 187.5. The could take over the world if they really, really wanted to. But they don’t. They just want to go out for pizza, and get their twenty dollar allowance every week, hang out with their friends, focus on school, and . . . to see their father. You solemnly set your toothbrush down in the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror — tired, worn out, nauseous from another . . . dream? Nightmare? You’re not sure, and frankly, you don’t want to think about it.

So, you pushed on. You got dressed, fixed your hair, used light makeup to cover your exhaustion. Stepping out into the bedroom, your eyes quickly fell on your cellphone — the device laying on your bedside dresser. Hands on your hips, you shook your head, telling yourself not to do it. It’s not necessary, it’s overbearing to even think about.

Then, you remembered who you were dealing with here. And you rushed over to picked up the phone.

“[y/n] Reid,” he beamed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I heard you talked to E,” you whispered, pacing back and forth in your bedroom.

“I did,” Spencer confirmed. “She called me the other day.”

“To invite you to her birthday party.”

“Yes.”

“And are you planning on coming?” You asked.

“Of course I’m planning on coming. It’s my daughter’s sixteenth birthday.”

“Right, right, it’s not like you missed her fifteenth, or thirteenth, or her twelfth, or her actual birth, or anything.”

“[y/n]—”

“Listen, I didn’t call to argue, or even talk,” you sighed. “I just called to tell you that this party isn’t an option. You will be here Saturday at 10 o’clock sharp, you will help decorate, you will spend time with your children, and you will make this the best damn day Eden Reid has ever had. Understood?”

“I have to help decorate?”

“Spencer—“

“I will be there. 10 o’clock. I will help decorate, I will spend time with my children, I will make this the best damn day Eden Reid has ever had. I understand.”

You released a quiet huff, like your lungs couldn’t stand to hold the breath any longer. “Thank you.”

Spencer let out a soft, sad laugh, “Haven’t done that in a while.”

Chess gives you anxiety. You understand it. You can conceptualize it, and even play it. Well. But the bubbling in your stomach every time you witnessed a game — particually one where your eight year old son is playing — comes back to haunt you again and again. You don’t worry about Emerson, he can take care of himself. He’s like his father in that way, the game is in his blood. But the tension, the speed, the risk. It made your breath lodge in your chest, and every so often, you had to sigh to regain control.

The only thing that could pull you from that stress is Em. Emerson Derek Reid, the little half smile on his face when he wins a match. It makes the three hour tournaments worth it. Watching your boy play against college level students who have been playing all their lives. Yeah, so has he.

He jumps off stage in an excited state, rushing towards you with open arms. “You’re a tiger, kid!” You exclaim. “You killed it.”

“Thank you, thank you,” he shrugged. “It’s really my opponents’ fault, they wouldn’t know a queen from a rook if it was looking them in the face.”

“Ooh, cat fight.” E remarked, causing Em and you to laugh.

“Hey,” you said. “Since you’re both already out of school today . . . wanna play hookie?”

“Mom? I am shocked!” E gasped, trying hard to contain a laugh.

“Oh, c’mon, we never get to hang out anymore since you guys started these college classes and my business went up. I’m off work, you’re already out of class, let’s just do it. Let’s go shop and eat and hang out and I will write you guys an excuse for tomorrow, okay?” You rambled, putting your hands to their shoulders.

Em and E looked at each other, and after a minute, they looked up at you and nodded.

Your very, very favorite people on the whole planet.

You took them to the mall. Bought Em some new clothes, but he wasn’t really interested. You and E did most of the picking. He sat in the corner of the store reading and only participated to try on outfits you guys had picked out. You both squealed and told him how cute he looked, and he scrunched up his nose. Just like . . .

And then you bought E some shoes, some vans. There was a huge sell, and she fell in love with everything she tried on. And you fell in love with seeing her happy so you ran up a bill.

“Okay, which one of us is dying?” E said as you sat at lunch. Em bursted out laughing.

“Wha—neither of you! I just wanted to spoil you guys. You kill yourselves all week with school, even though it’s summer. And I never see you, that’s all.”

“Mhm,” Em hummed, an unconvinced look in his face as he eyed his sister. “I bet someone died.”

“Em!” You exclaimed, E’s laughter blending in. “God, you guys are morbid.”

“Our parents both worked in the FBI, we’re basically trained,” E giggled.

Just then, you got a call. Work. Fuck. You stood from the table and stepped outside, excusing yourself first.

“[y/n].”

“Can we close the Pickett case tonight?”

“Raven . . .”

“I don’t want that boy in that house for one more second. [y/n], I will send you more of my notes, but . . . read them, read them. You will understand. Please.”

You sighed, “I’ll be there at ten. If you are not there at ten . . . I’ll wait for you. Let’s do it.”

“Thank you! Thank you, thanks! Bye. Sorry. Bye.”

You took in a deep breath and shook your head.

Nothing was going to spoil your lunch. Not today.

The car ride home, the three of you vibed to music. Your kids knew every word to Fleetwood Mac’s discography and it was your greatest accomplishment. They even developed their own dance routine to Dreams when they were younger.

Your very, very favorite people on the whole planet.

You pulled up to your house, and as you approached the driveway, you saw a familiar car parked out front. Your stomach flipped, caved in, skipped, hopped, and jumped.

Words can’t even described what it did when you saw him.

Sitting on the porch swing.

“Dad?” Em exclaimed loudly in excitement. You parked in the driveway, eyeing Spencer the whole time.

“Dad?” E said quietly, confusion in her voice. “Did you—“ She directed at you, interrupted by her brother hopping out of the car.

Em ran up to Spencer, and his father scooped him up in a quick motion, spinning him around and kissing his head.

You let out a quick huff, turned to E and smiled, “C’mon, go say hi.”

You followed E out of the car, and watched as she tip toed towards Spencer. She suddenly skipped and jumped into Spencer’s arms.

“Hey, dad,” she said.

“Hey, kid!” He replied, before putting her on her feet. “Your hair is getting so long!”

“Yeah,” she twirled her hair and laughed. “What are you doing here!”

“I wanted to see you guys . . .” He turned to you. “And your mom, who’s quiet as a mouse.”

“Hello,” you shrugged, giving him a kind smile.

“Are you staying for today, dad?” Em asked, tucked under Spencer’s arm.

“I was actually hoping to stay until Sunday, if that’s okay with your mom, of course.”

Your very, very least favorite person on the whole planet.

“Please, mom? He can be here for my birthday!” E pipped.

Em. E. Em. E. Those big, pouty eyes of theirs staring you down. “You can stay in the guest room,” you told Spencer.

“Is that close to your bedroom?” Spencer smirked.

“Heh,” you huffed. “Don’t push it. You can stay upstairs.”

“Yes! C’mon, dad! I made a new model that I wanna show you!”

Later that night, you made the kids pasta. It was one of your finer cuisines, taught to you by an old friend, and they asked for it all the night, especially when they needed to study.

Spencer wandered into the kitchen after getting settled upstairs. “Woah! I thought we could go out for dinner, huh? My treat?”

“We would, dad,” Eden said. “But we both have tests tomorrow. Calculus and Physics. Maybe tomorrow.”

You set their plates down and looked up at Spencer. You walked over to him, eyeing him knowingly as you led him out of the kitchen.

“They’re nerds,” Spencer laughed.

“They’ve also both got an eidetic memory. It’s gonna take them all of three minutes to study, then they’ll be all over you again,” you told him, walking out onto the back patio.

Following you, Spencer closed the door behind him, isolating you two on the porch.

You sat down, plopped down, and looked up at him, “Why are you here?”

“Subtle.”

“Spencer.”

“I mean it, you should be a federal agent.”

“Spencer.”

He sighed heavily, “I have some things I want to . . . handle.”

“Here?” You asked.

“Yes,” he hesitated. “I haven’t been enough a part of the kids’ lives—“

You rolled yours eyes. Yeah, you knew that.

“I want to fix that, to have a real relationship with them.” He continued.

“You’ve always been able to,” you shrugged. “You get distracted.”

“Work,” he muttered.

“Always is.”

“And . . .” he whispered, his eyes flickering back and forth between you and the ground.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “And?”

“I — I want to fix my relationship with you.”

Huh.

“I want us to go to therapy.”

Huh.

“Wha—“ You stuttered, rising from your seat. “Spencer, what?”

“Not couples therapy. Nothing . . . romantic,” his voice cracked. “But we can’t keep acting so . . . poorly around the kids. They’re smart, they notice things. They always have.”

“Spencer, how are we gonna go to therapy? You’d need to dig up Freud himself and have him work on us full time.”

“I just think we need to talk,” he murmured. He stepped closer to you, breathing deeply as he towered over you. “Will you please just think about it?”

You stared him in the eye, let out a heavy exhale.

Spencer.

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reidxreader #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #mine #fl

[mira--mira]

Hogwarts AU

(AKA another shiny distraction my brain latched onto, but I’m not writing this one bc 1. it’s already too long and 2. Valentine’s AU is already my wip bad idea one-shot of the month(s) lol.) 

Half ficlet/half random plot points. 

4K words

First and foremost: Madara is a Hufflepuff. Seriously. The heir of the Uchiha, a well-known pure-blood Slytherin family*, has the hat on his head for half a second before it’s yelling Hufflepuff. Madara’s family is the single most important thing to him and he will protect them no matter the cost. That loyalty triumphs even a desire for power.

His house mates are terrified of him. In the first-year Madara’s mostly quiet and homesick so he’s a loner. He hasn’t done anything to deserve his reputation but he’s an Uchiha in Hufflepuff. It’s the talk of the town for weeks. That all changes in his second year when Kaito gets put in Gryffindor. Despite Kou being a former Gryffindor, he gets bullied and told he doesn’t belong in his house. Madara gets in five separate duels in the span of two weeks, manages to win despite the bullies being fourth and fifth years and one time doesn’t even wait for wands to be drawn before he starts swinging at one of them. His reputation is well-deserved now and he absolutely does not care as long as the Gryffindors are terrified he’s going to appear behind them if they so much look at his brother wrong. Kaito is resigned, expecting nothing less, but does manage to make friends with two muggleborns. 

*The main Uchiha branch, before Madara’s generation, were one of the most pure-bred families and could trace a completely Slytherin legacy back to the beginning (though there were always rumors that a Veela or two intermarried.) And then Tajima fell head over heels for an extremely powerful muggleborn Gryffindor. The extended family was not pleased. To put it mildly. The heir is a half-blood and a Hufflepuff and the second eldest a Gryffindor. But at least Tajima didn’t marry a Senju, the family consoled themselves...

And speaking of, in his second year Madara also meets Hashirama. Hashirama, who is a Slytherin. He loves his family more than anything too but sees power and charm as the best way to protect them in the long run. Similar to Madara, he’s from a well-known family but the Senju before him had, at times, married half-bloods and muggleborns, but always were Gryffindors. Hashirama’s “defection” to Slytherin was not well-looked upon by his family, his house, or the house he was “supposed” to be in. He’s friendly and charming which is slowly winning people over, and incredibly powerful for his age. His and Madara’s first meeting is in the Forbidden Forest. Hashirama was out after hours looking for special plants, while Madara was out trying to spot a hippogriff. They run into each other and are very wary, but since they’re both second-years and they’re both breaking the rules...it’s not like one of them is in a “better” position than the other. Though with how many detentions Madara’s had for fighting his punishment would probably be more severe. 

Somehow they manage to run into each other three separate times, before the incident happens. The incident being stumbling upon a dead hippogriff and her one newly cracked egg with an injured newborn. Madara sees the baby, the dead mother, grabs it and tries to run back to the school. Punishment be damned, it won’t survive and he doesn’t know healing spells. Only to run smack-dab into Hashirama who’s been gathering herbs and happens to know healing spells. Madara sucks up his pride, and wants to avoid detention, and asks for his help. Together, Hashirama heals the hippogriff while Madara goes to find it something to eat. They spend hours with the baby together, but they don’t know what to do with after. So Madara, in his 12 year old wisdom, decides to take it into the castle. Due to the sheer terror of his presence, he and Hashirama manage to keep it hidden between them for three days. When it eventually gets discovered, both boys get punished with a week-long detention and that’s the start of their friendship. They’re pretty inseparable after that and it’s comical, from a distance, to see a scowling Hufflepuff and a sunny Slytherin walking side by side. Not a lot of their interests overlap, but they’re both waaaay too into dueling, join the dueling club, and quickly rise to the top of their year until the other kids really don’t want to go up against either one.  

They’re each others first real friend. Madara is stubborn and, let’s be real socially obliviousness enough, that he sticks with Hashirama no matter how many barbed comments come from the Slytherins, Gryffindors, or anyone else. Madara’s terrifying reputation has no effect on Hashirama, his first serious interaction with Madara was seeing him near tears holding an injured baby hippogriff after all, so his prickly demeanor and scowls don’t faze Hashirama.

Third year starts and Tobirama and Izuna are placed. Tobirama in Ravenclaw, and Izuna joins Madara in Hufflepuff. Tobirama tried to argue with the hat to place him in Gryffindor to please Butsuma, but that’s not happening. Izuna, similarly dedicated to family, isn’t a surprise to Madara but freaks the school out that there’s a second Uchiha in Hufflepuff and expect him to be like Madara. Izuna’s not. He’s sweet and innocent, and a terrible little prankster who no one suspects or can hold a grudge against. He’s also a little jealous of Hashirama for taking up his brother’s time and starts to wage a cold war against him. Hashirama thinks Izuna is adorable and it’s cute that he loves Madara so much, but like hell Hashirama is giving up his BFF. Tobirama thinks his brother is being childish and questions why he’s even friends with Madara in the first place, given Madara’s reputation and the fact that he still gets into fights though not as often. Kaito pretends he doesn’t know them, and only hangs out with Madara at school when Izuna and Hashirama aren’t around. 

Fourth year starts, Yuuto, Reo, and Kawarama start their first year. Yuuto and Reo live up to the Uchiha name and are placed in Slytherin. They’re also Izuna on steroids when it comes to pranks, set up a prank business based on favors, and insert themselves as agents of chaos in the ongoing cold war between Hashirama and Izuna. They tell Hashirama it’s all about ‘house solidarity’ with matching sinister grins and Hashirama knows he’s walking into some ongoing sibling thing in the Uchiha family. Still, he accepts their help and in response Izuna ropes an unwilling Tobirama into his schemes. Madara is still oblivious. Kawarama also lives up to the Senju name and gets placed in Gryffindor. Ironically, he looks up to Kaito as one of the ‘best’ example of a Gryffindor, and starts to follow him around like a duckling. Kaito’s first pearl of wisdom is to avoid their brothers, unless they’re alone, or all together. 

Fifth year starts and Itama is the last Senju to enroll. He gets placed into Hufflepuff and is absolutely terrified of the two older Uchiha in his house. Hashirama tries for a week to rope him into his and Izuna’s war and Itama blanches at the idea of acting like a spy, despite Hashirama’s protests that it’s not spying per se, it’s just keeping a very close eye on Izuna so Hashirama can get a leg up. Itama joins Kaito and Kawarama in the camp of “this is not my problem to deal with” and feels better about it even though it still means dealing with (another) Uchiha. Tobirama desperately wishes he was part of that camp. It all comes to a head before the Yule Ball. (I know it’s a Tri-Wizard tournament thing, but I want to use it.) Tobirama, fed up of Hashirama needling him, tells him if he wants a guaranteed night of uninterrupted peace where Madara’s attention is fully on him, just ask him to the Ball, third-years can’t attend. Tobirama was being sarcastic, but Hashirama takes the idea and runs with it. Runs all the way to Madara to immediately ask him on the spot. Madara who’s with Izuna. Who says yes with only a little bluster and two high spots of color on his cheeks.     

Hashirama is ecstatic. He is over the moon and Tobirama is regretting every single life choice that brought him to this moment. Over the next month he bothers all of his brothers, ‘should I cut my hair?’ ‘which haircut looks better?’ ‘do I need to get new dress robes?’ ‘which style do you think Madara would like best?’ ‘how does this cologne smell?’ ‘which kind of breathmint smells better?’ He asks Tobirama the last one and gets met with a scathing look and a silencing hex that seals his mouth shut for the next two hours. Itama is still paralyzed at the thought of Madara so Kawarama ends up being the one Hashirama hounds the most. Kaito also gets dragged in as a ‘Madara expert’ bc he’s with Kawarama a lot. 

The night of the Yule Ball comes and Hashirama, with uncut hair, new robes and cologne, and the fanciest kind of ten varieties of breathmint, sets out for his totally-not-a-date. Only to met with Yuuto on the stairs who wishes him luck. Hashirama thanks him and Reo, standing behind him immediately knocks him out with a stunning spell. They strip him of his fancy robes, tie him up, and leave him in a closet. Outside Slytherin’s dungeon entrance, Izuna’s waiting impatiently. The twins appear with a flourish, Hashirama’s robes in Reo’s hand and a polyjuice in potion in Yuuto’s. Family special. When Hashirama asked his brother out on a date right in front of him, it was time for Izuna to get serious. Even if meant sucking up his pride and asking his younger brothers for help. Yuuto and Reo like Hashirama but the chance to rub this in Izuna’s face forever? Him being eternally in their debt? So worth it. 

Izuna takes the potion and clothes and meets up with Madara as “Hashirama”. He has one plan. Make Madara see how insufferable Hashirama is, so he stops spending every free moment with him and instead spends more time with his family. First he’s late and shrugs it off whenever Madara asks. They go to the Ball and “Hashirama” ignores Madara. Barely responds whenever he speaks or constantly interrupts him and talks over him. Dances with other people and the one time Madara mutters that he wouldn’t mind dancing, says he’s too tired and retreats to the snack table. Internally, Izuna feels equal parts thrilled and guilty. His plan is working perfectly, but he feels a bit bad he’s putting his brother through this, even though it’ll be better in the long run. He doesn’t even have to try and ignore him in the later half of the night, Madara sits by himself in a corner and won’t even look at or speak to “Hashirama.” They leave the Ball early and barely round two hallways, only the barest cover of ‘privacy’ before Madara whirls on him and starts yelling about how embarrassing and humiliating the entire experience was and why did he even ask him out if this was how he was going to act? Izuna sees the final nail in the coffin and and says he was confused and thought he liked Madara like that but decided he didn’t. He didn’t want to go to the Ball together, but he couldn’t think of a good way to tell Madara before. Izuna expects anger. Expects to see Madara’s infamous short temper and has prepared to flee with three distinct escape routes in mind in case his brother pulls out his wand. 

He doesn’t expect Madara’s face to collapse in devastation. Or worse for his eyes to turn shiny with tears before he spins and starts stalking away. Izuna realizes how bad he’s messed up and tries to stop Madara. But the infamous temper sparks now, and he’s barely touched his shoulder before Madara’s turning and slamming his fist into “Hashirama’s” face. Izuna drops, unused to the pain and with a choked snarl not to follow him, Madara flees. 

After a minute or two, Izuna picks himself up and dusts himself off. Only to immediately get shoved up against the stone walls as the real Hashirama comes flying around the corner, dressed in his undershirt and pants. He’s furious and for the first time in his life Izuna is actually scared of him. Hashirama demands to know where Madara is and what Izuna did. Izuna explains, in half-formed sentences, feeling like he’s about to cry. The more he says, the paler Hashirama gets until now he’s the one tearing up but his face is still twisted in rage. He yells at Izuna, how he would never do or say any of that, how important Madara is to him and how much he was looking forward to tonight. Izuna’s crying now, mumbling out apologies, and other partygoers are starting to happen upon them and see the very confusing sight of Senju Hashirama shoving Senju Hashirama up against a wall. 

Hashirama drops him and tells him to go back to his dorm while he takes off after Madara. There is a chance Madara went back to his dorm but it’s unlikely. He doesn’t like to be around people when he’s upset. Hashirama checks the owlery, he peers into the magical creatures’ enclosure, he’s considering going into the Forbidden Forest or trying to get on a broom to check the skies, when he spots the greenhouse’s door cracked open. He creeps closer and hears someone sniffling inside. Peering around the corner, he can barely make out Madara’s dark form. It’s only because he’s sitting under the moon lilies in Hashirama’s portioned off area of the greenhouse he can see him at all. 

Hashirama stumbles in as Madara looks up and yells at him to leave. Hashirama sees the tear tracks on Madara’s face and immediately starts sobbing himself. He moves closer despite Madara’s protests and eventually gets the full story out. Madara doesn’t yell at him to leave again and together they sit in silence under Hashirama’s moon lilies until he can’t take it and moves even closer, grabbing Madara’s hand. He doesn’t have his mints and his breath is still hitching from crying so hard, but he learns forward and kisses him. For one moment, Madara doesn’t respond and Hashirama thinks the night is going to get even worse before he finally reacts and kisses back. 

They’re curled together under the moon lilies until the sun rises and the flowers wilt. Both of them are exhausted, but neither wanted to leave and burst their little bubble of peace. It lasts until a harried professor walks into the greenhouse and spots them. When neither returned to the castle, Izuna panicked and thought they were hurt so he told a teacher and the entire staff has been searching for them for a better part of the night. 

Parents are called and there’s a conference. Tajima, Kou, and Butsuma can barely be in the same room together without wands or fists coming out. Soroko is sitting in the middle of it, trying to actually figure out why they were called in. Everything eventually comes out and Yuuto, Reo, and Izuna are punished for attacking another student, creating a polyjuice potion, and impersonating a student. Butsuma is torn between fury that three Uchiha attacked his son, and irritation that their ultimate goal, to separate Madara and Hashirama, failed.

And fail it did. If they were joined at the hip before, it’s nothing compared to now. The rest of their fifth year was a bit rocky with family dynamics. Izuna does apologize to both, but Madara’s disappointed and Hashirama’s not quick to forgive in this situation. Neither are happy with the twins either, but they were opportunistic rather than the masterminds. By the end of the year the worst has been smoothed over but Hashirama and Izuna still have an uneasy relationship. In groups, they’re fine, but it gets awkward fast if it’s just the two of them. 

Sixth year starts and Hashirama and Madara are officially dating. The extended Uchiha family mourn, it’s Tajima all over again, and the Senju have to reckon with an unlikely friendship becoming an unlikely romance. And hopefully it’s just a teenage fling, but with the way Hashirama talks about their future after school, each career choice changing depending on the month but always the two of them together worries the Senju. There’s an attempt to arrange an engagement between Hashirama and Uzumaki Mito, a Ravenclaw who transferred in their third year, but it falls apart quickly. 

Seventh year starts and those far off plans becomes reality as they pass their NEWTS and graduate. They spend a few years in a professional dueling league before eventually inheriting their fathers’ spots in the government. It’s a...bit awkward for the extended family bc they still hate each other but the heads of their houses are married and live together. In their spare time, Madara fosters and rehabilitates injured magical birds and Hashirama has a garden that is less of a garden and more of a forest with a lot of (illegal) magical plants. Tobirama is an arthimancer but dabbles in potions and he threatens to report his brother every week, but comes to collect rare ingredients because the shops never have the same quality. Izuna gets a respectable job in the Department of Mysteries, but moonlights as a diviner that reads people’s fortunes and scams them out of their money. Kaito has no interest in politics and is the only person in the history of hogwarts who wants to willingly teach history of magic. Kawarama becomes a defense lawyer in the wizengamont and is notorious for bringing up loopholes and obscure magical laws that haven’t been used since 1632. Yuuto and Reo open their prank shop...and low-key revive the wizard mafia. They always know someone, somewhere that somehow owes one of them a favor. They never get into politics and everyone, including the extended Uchiha family, are glad.

Misc. Facts about this AU

Kou’s abnormal power in this AU is that she cannot use a wand. She was taken wand shopping but all of them eventually...exploded. Kou’s magic reacted negatively with other magical focuses and she relies completely on wandless magic. Madara inherited that natural ability from her, but his magic doesn’t react negatively with his wand. It allows him to, at the height of his power, “double-cast” once with his wand and once wandless with only a slight split second delay between them. Meanwhile Hashirama has insane stamina and a weird ability where spells just...aren’t that effective against him. They work, but never seem to be at full strength. This is great for offensive spells, not great for defensive/healing ones. Hashirama’s own magic, however, reacts normally to his body.

Tajima and Butsuma are both politicians in the Ministry of Magic and their seats are the farthest apart in the room. They were rivals in school and it continues now. They even occasionally agree on policy decisions, they just hate each other. 

Madara loves flying but he was banned from the school quidditch team. Kou is a professional player and he tried some of her prohibited moves. Namely, jumping off his broom, to drop down and grab a bludger and hurl it at the enemy before recalling his broom. 

Hashirama has a fear of flying. He fell off a broom as a child and gets extremely nervous when his feet don’t touch the ground. He will fly with Madara, but his eyes are close the entire time and he’s clinging to Madara’s back.

Kaito and Kawarama are best friends. Not “best friends” like Hashirama and Madara’s love-struck romance or “best friends” like Izuna and Tobirama’s frenemy status, but actual good platonic friends. Kaito made the joke that Itama could make friends with the twins and then it’d all even out. Itama takes one look at those crazy two and bursts into tears. 

Itama eventually gets used to Madara. They both love magical creatures and Itama is forced to see him a lot after hours. Madara still terrifies him, but at least he treats the animals nicely. The other three Uchiha still terrify him. 

Mito transferred to Hogwarts in her third year. She’s a Ravenclaw and is friendly with the Senju, especially Hashirama and Tobirama. Hashirama is an endless source of amusement for her and Tobirama balances it out with interesting ideas. 

Madara has a falcon for his pet instead of an owl. He was told it wasn’t allowed and responded by saying the falcon’s name was Owl. Why can’t his Owl be allowed in school? The administration is not amused.

Soroko is the most normal and level-headed out of the Senju/Uchiha parents. She reaches out to Kou once it becomes obvious Hashirama is determined to keep Madara as his friend, despite Butsuma’s disapproval. Once they start dating Kou and Soroko start meeting regularly for tea and lunches. She also has a bit of a mischievous side and likes Yuuto and Reo best (polyjuice incident aside)

The Uchiha’s maternal muggle grandparents are still alive. They usually visit for at least two weeks every summer and there are hijinks. Tajima still can’t stand muggle newspapers and their non-moving pictures. He despises muggle cars and traffic jams and still doesn’t understand what a TV is, but can turn the channel and raise/lower the volume. However, he loves fountain pens and scandalized the entire Ministry by exclusively using them after his father-in-law got him a fancy engraved set. Kou’s parents take the invasion of magic into their space remarkably well. Madara dragged in god only knows how many freakish alien looking birds from a supposedly normal non-magical wood. Kaito, as a child, refused to go anywhere for more than a day or two without the talking portrait of great-great-great-great-great grandma Uchiha. Izuna was sweet as sugar, but insisted on trying to cast every charm he knew on their furniture and clothes to show them, despite Tajima and Kou’s repeated warnings about underage magic and not turning grandma and grandpa’s couch into a miniature version of itself. And Yuuto and Reo were causing trouble before they could walk. Countless times Kou’s parents had to tip-toe around booby-traps in their own house that would dump frogs on them, or politely put smuggled howlers at the bottom of the mail pile to deal with later. They are very patient people. Very.

Kiddo Breakdown

Madara 

Hufflepuff  Interests - Dueling, Care of Magical Creatures (loves anything with feathers) Patronus - peregrine falcon Wand - red oak, phoenix feather, 12.5 inches, inflexible 

Hashirama

Slytherin Interests - Dueling, Herbology, Healing Spells Patronus - brown bear Wand - english oak, dragon heartstring, 12.5 inches, springy 

Kaito

Gryffindor  Interests - DADA, History of Magic Patronus - canary Wand - pear, unicorn hair, 9 inches, pliable

Izuna

Hufflepuff Interests - Charms, Divination Patronus - ferret Wand - rowan, unicorn hair, 10 inches, inflexible 

Tobirama

Ravenclaw Interests - Potions, Arithmancy Patronus - polar bear Wand - walnut, dragon heartstring, 9.5 inches, stiff

Yuuto

Slytherin  Interests - Potions, pranks, entrepreneurship  Patronus - coyote  Wand - sycamore, unicorn hair, 10 inches, springy 

Reo

Slytherin  Interests - Charms, pranks, entrepreneurship Patronus - jackal  Wand - sycamore, dragon heartstring, 10 inches, pliable 

Kawarama 

Gryffindor Interests - Transfiguration, History of Magic Patronus - lynx  Wand - larch, phoenix feather, 9.5 inches, reasonably springy 

Itama

Hufflepuff Interests - Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy Patronus - rabbit Wand - willow, unicorn hair, 11 inches, unpliable  

#naruto #madara uchiha #hashirama senju #hashimada #madahashi #tobirama senju #izuna uchiha #kawarama senju #itama senju #kaito uchiha #yuuto uchiha #reo uchiha #kou uchiha #tajima uchiha #butsuma senju #soroko senju #hogwarts au #i swear this was supposed to be short....

[regulusfate]

It Follows Us Home

I’m not entirely sure what this is but have some Rarry for the soul

word count: 1353

There’s a buzzing noise, and he doesn’t remember closing his eyes but he feels them flutter against his face, and a voice .. familiar , he liked it.

Ron.

“Hey come on , open those lovely green eyes of yours babe”

There’s a smile touching the corners of his lips, he can feel it, itching to curve upwards like one you cannot scratch away, and finds himself with a hum as his lips part to respond.

“It’s babe now is it?”

There’s concern, he notes a second too late, thick in the warm rasp of Ron’s voice, warm like the palm cupping against his face and he almost leans into it.

“Told you it’s the eyes”

“mmh .. ponds “

It slips out, ponds , and he has no idea why. But there’s a rumble close to his ear, a silent vibration he knew to be a chuckle, and something relaxed a little in the air.

“Yeah , I can practically see the fishes”

And Ron’s face is looming down, blinking brown the haze of his vision, freckles punching through the pale complexion and everything down to the way his eyes began to crinkle in the corners, inviting him in.

“No,” he mumbles, and his tongue feels dry, heavy in his mouth, as if he were to move the whole world would tilt and it would roll back into his head. “If anything it would be ducks”

Ron shifts with an eye roll, knee pressed into the grass and leaning backwards to slide against the base of a tree.

“Hope you don’t expect me to toss bread at you”

He muttered though he could catch the drifting humour in his words, Ron raked a hand through the strands of hair that now rolled past his eyes, pushing them off his face with a heaving sigh and Harry watched the rise and fall of his chest with some vigor. And some fear he can’t remember.

It hurts his eyes, the sun in the sky even as it drifts behind the clouds, but he hopes it won’t go, he doesn’t want to get cold.

“Shut up,” He grunted, and began silently wiggling his toes within his shoes. A meditation tactic actually, but one he found more useful when testing whether he’s still got all his limbs - and that was always a cause for concern.

Ron doesn’t move, his head pressed against the bark, staring pointedly up through the leaves that declared a small corner of his vision. Harry’s glad of that, and Ron knows it.

Declaring whether all his limbs were in tact took a little longer, around the warped pounding encroaching through his skin, like a knocking wall teetering on the edge of collapse. It occurs to him a moment later, he could’ve just asked, or indeed would most likely know by his friends expression whether nor not his leg was still attached, but it was silent agreement that he’d check anyway so what was the point.

“You’re the mother swan” he adds after a moment, like an afterthought he couldn’t quite trickle from his lips.

Ron snorts, as Harry begins to shuffle, and start his ascent upwards, using his elbows for support. The support is silently offered in a soft jerking movement of a lanky arm towards him, and he purposefully ignores it, gritting his teeth.

“I believe the term is mother hen,” there’s almost another smile, so Harry counts that as a win, watching those blue eyes shutter and fall tiredly in the shade. “And no I’m not.”

“Definitely a swan, bubs”

The world strings him along painfully, as his muscles burn with the pressure and he finally rights himself from the waist up. There’s a spinning sensation that overcomes his mind, and bubs feels thick on his lips, catching his throat. He takes a breath and tries not to throw up.

“Are you saying I preen?” There’s an incredulity to Ron’s voice, the exclamation ringing through the garden, an offence taken in his words even as a hand reached over to steady his shoulder and Harry couldn’t remember closing his eyes again.

“No”, he mumbled “I’m saying you’re .. feisty”

He tries to grin. He’s not sure he managed it.

“Watch I don’t hit you with one of my feathers, Potter.”

A warning, he knows that tone. It’s one that’s calling him, tugging him forward, making him listen, and he wants to sigh because another lecture is coming. He’s fed up with lectures. Or maybe he’s just fed up with people.

“Hey,” Ron starts, and this time he does sigh, but it comes out as more of a huff as he squints against the glaring sun. It’s promptly ignored.

“You’ve gotta stop-“

“You’re not my therapist-“

“‘Forgetting’ to care for yourself.”

Harry’s mouth closes with a click, because at least it wasn’t ‘ you’ve got to stop hiding away ! ‘ he wasn’t hiding, not really. He heard their whispers, like he was running away from something , as if he could ever run away. He never had that choice.

Besides, there was nothing to run from now. Only his dreams and that’s all they would remain, voldemort could no longer hurt them.

“You fainted,” Ron isn’t asking, but there’s still a blush rising to his cheeks despite that, as though they hadn’t seen each other in far more compromising positions. He wants to protest but he doesn’t know what to say.

So he focuses, and Ron is watching him too, with those crystal eyes and scar drawn lines, and his eyebrows are furrowed. It’s a little fuzzy, but he can see the crinkle of his skin drawn between his nose.

“Have you eaten? drunk?”

His voice is harsh, sharp, but not unwelcoming all the same. It’s tired, and Harry is so acutely aware of it all no matter how oblivious they think he is. He prefers to be in the garden, the house, it can be so stifling, there’s so much pain built up in the walls that would never be scrubbed out. He wonders sometimes if they can even feel it, because it’s their pain, it’s their pain , Ron , Hermione.

It’s fighting the urge to scream, the instinct to survive. To take their pain away some how. Sometimes, the war followed the home, and he wakes expecting to see little toy soldiers scattered about the yard. The dead comes in all forms.

Harry doesn’t want him to pry. It means opening woods where the flesh has not truly stitched in all of them. They think he’s not taking care of himself but he is , it's them he’s worried for.

“I was busy.” He responds shortly, feeling rather like a petulant child, but that thought reminds of Dudley so he pushes it away.

“What was so important that you-“

Burying the dead he wants to croak out. But the only dead were the flowers he’d been replacing.

“Gardening.” He sighs again, and there’s a noise, he finds Ron’s face again. His lips tremble and he’s moved closer, and Harry doesn’t like that but maybe it’s the voice sounding suspiciously like Mad Eye in his head going on about constant vigilance.

He lets the hand come, rest against the side of his face, fingers winding into the curls of his hair.

“I saw you lying ..” Ron muttered, and his voice is strained , coarse and shaking slightly “Your body was-“

He cuts himself off, and grips harder, lips coming to press on a tight line against Harry’s forehead. Against the scar, and it tingles a little in the way it always does when Ron touches it.

“I had toast.” He offers quietly, a compromise. Ron hums, throat bobbing softly and doesn’t move for a minute. Harry relaxes a little, his body slouching with clarity and drained, as Ron’s lips leave his skin his head folds into the crook of his neck. He likes the heat, the pressure of skin on skin, the palpitating reminder that they are alive, they are breathing, they are safe. They both do.

He likes the scent too, so undeniably Ron, that it is home all by itself.

“Good.” Ron answers roughly, clearing his throat as if to get up. But neither of them make a move towards the house, and they’re content for a little longer in the peace that surrounds them. Or as peaceful as one can be after all they had seen.

#rarry #ronarry #rarry fanfic #hp fandom #hp golden era #hp next gen #harry and ron #hp fanfic #I love rarry so much #i dunno if I like this #but also post war rarry is my favourite #they invented best friends to lovers trope

[allandoflimbo]

Ashens (Part 3)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 3,036

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

Full Masterpage

Month: February

Year: 2021

It had been three years since you saw your parents being murdered in your living room and since the civil war started.

Society had fallen.

First, it was the fight for the cure, then it was the fight for protection. Next, came the riots, the fight for food, and eventually, it all became a survival of the fittest.

Electricity and communication were no more. You don’t even remember the last time you saw a working TV. Family was no more. Violence and dishonesty were now the brutal answer.

These days, protection came in the form of clothing you owned and how much you had of it. After it became apparent that this virus was actually a bacteria born and flesh-eating disease, everyone did what they could to try and keep their skin protected as much as possible. It ate through the skin and took over your body like a plague. Heavy clothing equaled less chance of being infected. It didn’t take very long for clothing stores to be looted along with the grocery and drug stores.

Eventually, you’d have to make use of any clothing you found on dead bodies that were killed by assassination and not by the virus itself. You couldn’t risk that.

But even that was rare to come by. Everyone jumped at the opportunity of a clothed dead corpse. Whether it was for the scarf, the pants, shoes, or socks.

During the riots, most of the homes had all been destroyed either by fire or vandalism. Some tainted by dead bodies; murder scenes. Some eaten by the virus. You didn’t want to live in a home that was infected. Destroyed homes were ruined by the winter’s harsh snowstorms and the summer’s heavy rainfall. Because of their collapsed ceilings mixed in with the weather, it all eventually began to mold and collapse.

Life was no more, happiness and serenity were gone, except for in The Capitol.

No one could get inside The Wall. You heard rumors that it was guarded by heavy military and machine guns, and all of Hydra.

The Capitol was a place where your parents had planned for every single one of you to make use of to help you survive and live a happy life. It was supposed to be a safe haven, not this.

It was now the place that had been savagely stolen by Hydra and the evil rich. The migration into The Capitol had happened very soon after your parent’s death. The rich, elite, privileged, and only some certain politicians, were taken in.

The other politicians, you heard in rumors, had either killed themselves or were killed by other government officials, just like your parents had been. You heard rumors that this had been an undercover mission for years. They all knew how to take over the moment it was necessary.

Even the doctors and scientists had been taken with them. And you wondered if it was at their own will. Meanwhile, everyone else - people like you and Will and simple middle-class families with children - were forced to fight each other to stay alive.

A bloodbath.

The first few months you and Will had refused to fight anyone for food. That wasn’t in your moral plans. But it had eventually come a day when neither of you had eaten in three days, and the only thing left, in a dirty store off Route 95, was a loaf of bread. You, Will, and this random girl all argued until you eventually agreed on splitting it into three pieces.

The girl had been chewing her piece, devouring like she hadn’t eaten in days when her eyes landed on the tattoo on your neck, and immediately you knew she knew who you were. Her eyes grew dark and she jumped at the chance to attack you when Will came from behind, hitting her on the back of the head with a heavy bucket, making her pass out.

You knew that no one really knew what happened to your family. They all think it was your parent’s intentions for all of these horrible things to have happened. They blame you and your family for this. This only made you want to avenge your parents even more and even Will knew. This life wasn’t what they wanted, and it’s not what you wanted either.

You had been sitting one night, in the middle of a forest in Connecticut around a blazing fire, eating a fish you had just caught with your handmade spear. It had fed you both for many months. Will smiled over the fire at you, licking the meat off the bone clean.

“We’ll get there, Y/N.”

You stared at the fire in a daze. You hadn’t lost hope. Or at least you don’t think you did. Your feet had been bare for weeks and they were starting to chafe and bleed.

You wouldn’t admit it, but part of you did lose a little hope. You feared the first snowfall of the year. It was almost comical to you how your last worry at the moment was frostbite.

You took a deep breath, enjoying the taste of the Tilapia. You wrapped your heavy scarf over your shoulders.

“I know, I’m just tired. I wish I had more strength, I wish we had more strength. There’s two of us and thousands of them, Will.”

It was the first sign of doubt you had shown in months, and it surprised Will slightly.

“I know, but we can do it. I know we can.” he licked his fingers clean and then laid down on the wet and cold grass, his hands behind his head.

Could you do it? You weren’t sure anymore. You knew you wanted to kill Hydra and you wanted to overtake The Capitol. But were you two really capable of doing that? Have you two been delusional this entire time?

“Its been three years. Three years.” You said softly. Exhausted.

“True, but we’re young. And we’re smart. We have an advantage they don’t. That.” He bent one of his legs and stared up at the scars, a small smile tainting his lips, “We could always call The Avengers.”

You scoffed, running your hands through your hair as you threw the bare spine into the fire. You were a bit sad you finished it, your tummy still turning in hunger.

“What Avengers? Hydra destroyed their home, everything. They tried to fight and they lost. Worst than when Thanos beat them. And to make matters worse, this is a virus, it’s not something they can necessarily control. They’ve become overpowered, even the damn Avengers are overpowered now by Hydra. This is like a horror movie that will never end. It’s time we face the facts.”

Will smirked.

“I don’t know if I buy it. You mean to tell me even Bruce fucking Banner couldn’t break that damn wall?”

You gave him a glare.

“I don’t think the goal here is to break The Wall. If anything that would ruin the purpose, don’t you think?” you picked up a small and harmless rock and threw it at his chest, making him cringe, “dipshit.”

Will continued to stare up at the stars.  The night was midnight black, and now since there was no longer any electricity, you could even see the milky-way.

“I don’t see this ending badly.”

You wish you had his good heart and good soul. You furrow your brows at him.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“This whole thing. We’ll fix it, I know we will. I don’t know how, but it will happen. I’m sure of it.”

You consider his words and nod. You slowly take your time to get up and walk over to where he is. You pull your heavy apocalyptic-style hood over your head and scooch over closer to him. You cross your own arms behind your head, also looking up at the stars. They looked beautiful, and for the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to feel even a little bit serene.  This is why you enjoyed Will. He was your best friend and your guardian angel.

“You really think so?” You ask.

Will turned his head over and looked at you. You did the same thing, staring back into his eyes.

You were suddenly afraid; afraid of losing your friend. What would you do without a good soul like him to keep you sane and strong?

“I do.” There was no trace of doubt in his voice.

Still, you tried to believe him, you really did.

You and Will began to fend for survival. You often thought of killing your parent’s murderer when you would both be laying under a tree in the cold of the night trying to fall asleep. You would never forget that face.  You and Will would both alternate between being watchmen to guard your food and weapons. You mostly used the weapons just for hunting, but you never knew what could happen. Still, you remained alert and vigilant.

You both never ventured too much into the city, trying to stay on the outskirts as much as you possibly could. But one day you had cut your hand while trying to spear more seafood in a riverbed, and the cut ended up being deeper than you could manage. Not only did you fear it to get in the way of your hunting, but you also didn’t want your blood seeping in through your clothing, making it more versatile to the virus.

You both found a looted, but in not-too-bad-of-a-condition, dollar store just off the freeway. You both climbed over some of the abandoned cars, making sure to look in each one just in case there was something worth taking.

You got to the entrance of the store, and Will told you he would be outside waiting and keeping guard while you looked for some bandages.

The store was almost completely empty, yet you found your way into the med isle, stepping over fallen light fixtures and useless items like beanie babies and dusted up Happy Birthday cards. You were rummaging through some boxes when you heard it.

A scream.

Will.

Your heart jumped into your throat and you acted on autopilot. You didn’t second guess, you ran through the doors and over the fallen cable wires without hesitation. Your eyes searched the eery and abandoned parking lot. You didn’t see him and you screamed Will’s name over and over again, running around the deserted parking lot. You knew it was dangerous, but you had to find him. You heard a groan and you quickly saw him lying against the curb off to the side of the highway, his arm wrapped tightly around his waist.

You feared the worst.

“No, no,” you repeated to yourself. You tried to be careful to not slip on the black ice beneath your leather boots.

You ran towards his fallen body and the first thing you say was how pale he was. His face was emotionless. Most likely shock. You crouched down next to him and you pulled his arm away from his chest. You saw a knife sticking out from his upper abdomen and blood.

A lot of blood.

He was panting and it didn’t take you long to look up across the street. There was a man faced down into the pavement. You swallowed thickly, knowing there was a fight and Will had gotten hurt.

“He saw you and he kept saying he wanted your coat, he was a loon and he had a machete, and he — and he—” Will panted.

“Shhh, shhh.” You hugged him tightly to your body as you rocked him back and forth.

“I wanted to protect you.” “I know, Will. I know.” You cried, closing your eyes tightly together and holding him closer.

He barely coughed out, his eyes rolling back.

“It hurts.” He cried.

You saw heavy tears cloud your vision and you felt a sense of impending doom.

“I got you, Will, I got you.” You don’t know if you were speaking to him or yourself.

He stretched his arm up and grabbed yours, pulling your embrace tighter around his body.

“We’ll get them, Y/N. We’ll avenge your parents, I promise. I’m too strong for this.” He squeaked, “I won’t die.” He said through clenched teeth.

Tears ran down your face as you watched him grab his own open abdomen.

“You are, Will. You are so strong.” Your face tilted to the side as more sobs racked through your body, “Please, don’t leave me. I can’t be alone. I can’t do this alone.”

You felt his nimble fingers dig into your elbow, smearing you with his blood.

“I’m so sorry.” He whimpered, some blood escaping his lips this time.

“Please, please.” You cried over and over again, holding him tighter to your chest.

It didn’t take much longer for you to feel him go limp in your arms. Your body shook with your cries when you repeated it back to yourself: Will was dead.

You didn’t allow yourself to cry for too long. You wanted to but you knew you needed to keep moving, and being this exposed could only cost you your life.

You quickly found a nice area, the nicest you could possibly find in an arena of death, and you carefully laid Will’s body down. Ironically, it was in a field of dead daisies. You delicately draped his arms over his chest and you whispered your goodbyes to him. You took a moment to cherish who he was. He was a lonely son of a construction worker and an accountant. His bother died two years ago after being infected. He had been in pain for a long time, but he had a good heart, and he strived to stay at your side to help you. You let your tears fall on your hands as you held his for just a few more minutes.

No more than a half-hour later after finding some bandages, you were back in the woods, continuing your journey south. You pulled out the compass that Will had given you, just to be sure. It was close to dusk when you heard the sound of a river running down below. Your stomach grumbled, suddenly feeling very hungry again. You had been out of luck today, finding not even one squirrel or deer. Not even a bird.

You hadn’t eaten since that morning when you and Will had split a couple of spare pumpkin seeds. Your chest tightened at the thought of him again. You felt awful for just leaving him in the field like that. You knew someone would find him soon and take the clothing off his body to keep for their own. But you had no choice. And there was no time for a proper burial, at least not in the middle of a city like that.

You continued your walk more and more, the boots that you had stolen off a girl’s body, squishing in the mood and dirt beneath your feet. You were thankful it hadn’t snowed yet this year. The cold was already unbearable as it was, if there was snow it would only make your journey worst. You couldn’t take it for granted.

You don’t know how much farther you walked since you had no watch. No one had watches anymore. Time didn’t exist anymore. But, it would help in order for you to estimate your location and how far you had left in your journey. You were guessing, realistically, it had been about an hour, judging by how much darker the sky now was.

You knew you needed to find a corner to settle in and build a fire. You needed a place to sleep for the night. Food would have to wait until tomorrow, you would go to sleep hungry again.

You take a deep breath and rest your hand on a large tree. You were extremely fatigued, in desperate need of water. You had been dehydrated for a while. You knew your canteen was running low so you had to savor as much as you could.

You took necessary sips here and there.

You drift your eyes over the horizon and through the broken branches until your gaze lands of a patch of grass that looked decent enough for a rest stop. You would lay your dirty rag you call a blanket there and get some rest.

You slowly started your walk, tucking your canteen back into your bag.

You heard owls in the sky around you and you grew worried as you began to realize that with Will now gone you were truly alone. There was no way you could avenge your parents alone. You couldn’t go into The Capitol alone.

You had no chance.

Your hands grew clammy and you started feeling worried sick, your mind now in overdrive.

You were screwed. You were all alone and screwed and there was no chance in hell you were going to come out of this alive. Suddenly, you find yourself angry at Will. Angry for lying to you and saying that everything would be okay.

How could he say that? How could he lie to make you believe it was true? You wouldn’t be capable of doing this alone? Even the Avengers couldn’t do this, even the Earth’s mightiest heroes could not win against Hydra, yet here you were trying to overthrow an entire city filled with them?

You remember the people talking about how their compound had been bombed and destroyed. They didn’t have a home anymore. They had three missions where they tried to overthrow it and failed miserably. It pained you to see that your parents hope for the future had become a living hell of blood and war. How could Will have so much faith in you? You remember the feel of his limp body in your arms and your sadness is unbearable.

More tears found your eyes and you rubbed your wet nose over the back of your sleeve. Something heavy caught the tip of your boot, and with a shriek you found yourself tumbling down and down.

Then, everything went dark.

#bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #winter solider fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader series #ashens chapter 3

[hunterscoffee]

Masked Crush

Oneshot Masterlist Din Djarin/The Mandolorian x Reader Warnings: angst, violence, the usual sw stuff Word Count: 1.6k A/N: Tell me if you want a sequel/part two.

He was laughing on the inside, he really was. He had never seen your face, your body and he knew nothing about you. What colour were your eyes? Your lips? Your skin? What did your voice sound like without the modulator in its way. Even though he had never seen you, he was in love with you. The way your beskar curved over your chest, the rasp of your laugh through the helmet, your impulsiveness and most of all, no matter how closed off you seemed to others you were so open and caring to him and the child. Whenever he realised he didn’t know who you were beneath the armour he got the unhappily reminder that you didn’t know who he was either or what he looked like, to be frank he sometimes forgot who he was too.

Din’s latest reminder of his crush on you was when you had breathed a heavy sigh, one that the modulator picked up. He just cocked his helmet at you like your breath of relief was a massive insult to his flying. And as if you were reading his mind.

“That was an insult to your flying, we nearly died!” you clarified to him. He breathed his own sigh, but his of frustration and slight anger.

“I saved our asses,” he bit out, “not my fault the New Republic dropped out of nowhere.”

“It was New Republic space,” you reminded him, he could only guess what your expression looked like right now, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly quirked in the corner, eyes shining with amusement at how defensive he was acting.

What he did know of you was very little to go off, he knew that you had joined the clan when you were 13 by your own choice and you were born on Mandalore during the Clone Wars. And of course he knew of your reputation as a bounty hunter and he had witnessed your skill.

“You also did a shit job of trying to fix it,” you unhelpfully commented.

“Thanks,” he grumbled.

“Do you know the name of this super special Mandalorian?” you asked, abruptly changing the subject.

“No.” he said, you groaned at his unhelpful answer.

“Great,” you muttered to yourself. "I'm going to get some rest." 

You must have fallen asleep because you woke to the Razor Crest beeping out an orchestra of warning sounds and the ship herself rattling as you essentially fell to the planet's surface. Din was grabbing her controls with what must be a white knuckled grip. If all that wasn't enough a woman's voice was echoing through the coms warning your partner that you were coming in too fast. 

"Holy shit," you breathed as you took it all in, powerless to do anything except watch and hold the child. Out of some miracle he managed to land the ship, on the platform, perfectly. But of course that didn't last long. Razor Crest tipped over the edge and plummeted into the water surrounding the platform. 

"Fuck." that's all Din said, that was it. 

"I'm flying next time," you growled. 

"No, your kiffin' not," he snapped at your blatant rudeness. 

"Mando look at the fucking transparasteel, you can't see see shit out of it, no to mention the state the metal alloy." you bit back, he huffed, chucking a few credits at the Mon Calamari by the spaceport and asking him to fix her the best he could, which to be honest couldn’t be that good by the looks of her.. You were too busy staring at the ship to realise he, the child and the frog lady had walked off, happily enough you got there in time to watch the reunion of the frog lady and the frog gentleman, it warmed your heart, just the joy you needed after such a shit day. In return for her passage the frog couple took you and Din to an Inn not far from the port and mostly filled with amphibious species. Just as you sat down a Mon Calamari approached you, asking what you wanted to eat and as quick as ever Din had just very coolly slid some credits across the table.

“Chowder and… information.” you would have killed to see his face when he said that, just his tone of voice sent shivers of arousal down your back.

As Din and the Calamari spoke you watched the kid and his chowder with jealous and hungry eyes, your stomach rumbled as if to acknowledge your hunger.

“Maker, I’m starving,” you murmured, not loud enough for the voice modulator to pick it up. Suddenly part of the child’s dinner launched itself at him, the baby let out a startled gurgle that turned to scared baby language. You pulled the dagger you had strapped to your thigh and slid it into the edible creature, then greedily watched as it fell into the bowl of probably disgusting chowder. What drew your attention from the child’s meal was a Quarren walking with loose shoulders towards you. 

“You seek others of your kind?” he asked, his tone rough like someone who’d been hardened over the years.

“Have you seen them?” Din asked, overly curious.

“Aye, I can bring you to them,” he added, then he started chuckling and your blood ran cold with fear and adrenaline. 

“Where.”

“Only a few hours sail, it’ll cost you though,” he added, getting up from the table. Without even consulting you Din slid even more credit across the table as if you weren’t broke enough.

“When do we leave?”

“What the fuck were you thinking?” you scolded under your breath to him, “You’ve put the child, me and yourself in danger.”

“You didn’t have to come,” he scoffed, though he had badly wanted you to come.

“And let you get killed, I think not,” you huffed, glancing over to the child’s cot. Your little conversation was interrupted when a shipmate came to stand beside you.

“Ever seen a mamacore eat?” he asked, you blinked, “Quite a sight, child might take an interest.” as if on cue you glanced over to the baby, he had his chin tilted up so he could watch his father. “You should come over, take a look.” the Quarren invited, Din hesitantly pushed himself away from the banner and followed the alien to the hatch in the middle of the ship.

You had seen Jedi, heard stories of how they could predict the future, get feelings about what was about to happen. You weren’t force sensitive but you had a devastatingly bad feeling about what was about to happen. You were right. It happened in seconds, the hatch door slid open and the crew fed the beast, the Quarren that had led you there began blabbering on about feeding the thing and then with the end of his staff the bastard knocked the child’s crate into the hatch and Din, without a thought dived in after him.

“Close the gate!” the alien shouted, the sudden shocked expression you wore turned quickly into a scowl.

“Demagolka,” you growled, planting your feet on the ground as you drew both guns. The hatch finished closing, and you shot your first victim, you had barely three dead when three beskar armoured individuals landed on the ship, the painting they wore was familiar but you couldn’t quite place it, no room for it, you were too worried about Din and the child. You had no choice but to put your faith in the strangers, taking off in the sprint to the control panels, trying to get there as fast as humanly possible, without hesitating shooting the Quarren that stood there. 

“Maker, which one? Which one?” you tried to picture how the shipmen had opened and shut it, then without time to think you grabbed the leaver and pulled back. To your utter relief the gate slid open, you moved quickly to the edge of the hatch, reaching your hand down as Din came back up. With all of your strength you pulled him out of the water quickly. “Shit, Mando, are you okay?” you didn’t let go of his hand, he couldn’t see it but your eyes were wide with worry.

“The child,” he gasped out. One of the other Mandalorians dove into the water only to emerge seconds later with the child. Both you and Din breathed a sigh of relief as the child as child was placed back into Din’s hands. But, your partner's somewhat relaxed demeanor was cut off when the ‘leader’ removed her helmet and you were met with a face you never thought you’d see again.

"You're not Mandalor-" Din started before you cut him off curtly. 

“Clan Kryze,” you spat out, so much uncontrollable venom in your voice. Her head snapped to you. You placed two hands on either side of your helmet then smoothly pulled it off.

“Y/N?” she whispered.

“Bo-Katan,” you had no room in your heart for pleasantries.

“Ad’ika please,” she started.

"Please what, mother?" you growled. Mother? Din nearly coughed in shock, then he saw your face, gone was the sarcastic, but kind Mandalorian Din knew and in its place was the living image of anger, grief and sadness. He wanted so badly to reach out and pull you into his arms, try to comfort you. Then he suddenly remembered the code, you had broken the code. 

"Give me the child, I'm going to see if I can help with the ship," your voice softened when you spoke to Din, then hardened again when you turned to your… Mother? "If you so much as follow me I'll kill you." that wasn't a threat, it was a promise. Without another word you picked the child up and cradled him in your arms then ignited the jetpack on your back, and left Bo-Katan with tears in her eyes.

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorion spoilers #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin

[ahsokadrabbles]

����𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞  [the mandalorian x reader]

the mandalorian and the reader travel to the ghost town of mos pelgo in search of someone to lead the child to others of its kind. (part one of an ongoing series.)

this fic was born after listening to the song devil’s back bone by the civil wars perhaps a few times too many. if you haven’t heard it, i highly encourage you to check it out here because it’s a great song. i was inspired by the idea of loving a man who has committed many wrongs, but for the right cause, and then immediately thought of din. anyways, i’ve had this one on my mind for a while so i really hope you enjoy it. happy reading!

word count: 5k

warnings: angst, alcohol, your usual run of the mill rowdiness

The Mandalorian and you had a simple relationship. You were to care for and watch over his son when he couldn't, which happened to be quite often due to his demanding lifestyle. In return he housed you, fed you, and provided you with protection when necessary. Nothing more, nothing less, right? That was the way the rugged bounty hunter saw things, but you on the other hand felt differently. Something about his stone-cold demeanor drew you in. He was strong and brave, intimidating, and feared, and all of those characteristics stirred something deep within you. 

But to him, you were only the Child's caretaker. Nothing more, nothing less.

You rolled over on your cot to face the wall, your eyes still blurred from sleep. Groggily you felt around the folds of your sheets until you grasped a small rock with one pointy end that you had collected from a planet you had long since left. You and the bounty hunter traveled so often that all the planets and systems had begun to blur together. You never paid much attention to where you were anyway. You could be on the most beautiful planet, covered with white sands and clear seas, yet you would still be more entranced by the mysterious Mandalorian. 

You scratched another line into the wall and counted how many were there. You had been traveling with the Mandalorian for 124 days, give or take a cycle as you had only started keeping track a few weeks after you boarded the Razorcrest. It looked as if you were a prisoner counting the days they spent locked away, but really you were tracking how long it was taking for the Mandalorian to finally see you. Not just with his eyes, but deeper than that. To you, it seemed like your infatuation was painfully obvious, but maybe the warrior was oblivious, or just completely ignoring you. It was probably the latter.

You sat upright in bed as your vision cleared the rest of the way and caught a glimpse of the Mandalorian putting on his chest plate.

"Sorry," You muttered, immediately placing your hand over your eyes.

Seeing Mando without his armor might as well have been seeing him naked. And seeing him without his helmet would probably end in your untimely demise. 

You liked to think he wouldn't kill you, but sometimes you really weren't sure. 

"It's okay," His deep and muffled voice replied, watching as you sheepishly removed your hands from your eyes.

You could hear the child cooing over in Din's half of the room so you climbed out of bed to go fetch him. You hummed a soft and sweet good morning to the baby before sweeping him up into your arms and planting a kiss on his wrinkled forehead.

"Where are we headed?" You asked as you bounced the child in your arms, earning you a fit of soft giggles from him.

"Tatooine." Mando bluntly answered.

As usual, he wasn't much for words.

"And we'll arrive today?" You guessed, pointing the baby in the direction of its father who he was making grabby hands at.

"We should land in an hour or so. We're meeting a friend of mine at her hangar."

Your brain got stuck on the word 'her'. You didn't even think the Mandalorian had friends, especially not lady friends. You swallowed your jealousy and handed the baby to the man.

"Spend some time with him while I get dressed. I'll be up to make breakfast in a second." You told him, watching as he took the baby with a gentleness that did not match his hardened exterior.

When you finished getting dressed, you climbed up the ladder into the upper quarters. You were immediately blinded by the light of the bright suns of Tatooine as you exited the darkness of the lower bunks.

"That was quick." You muttered, squinting as your eyes adjusted to the light.

You strapped in for the landing, clutching the child close to your chest as the turbulence rattled the ship's interior. You and the Mandalorian both let out your usual sigh of relief when you thankfully made another safe landing.

"Alright, she's waiting," Din said, referring to his lady friend that you were painfully jealous of.

"Maybe the baby and I should just stay here, you know how Tatooine is." You said, looking into the Mandalorian's expressionless visor.

You didn't know if your heart could handle being around Mando and the mystery woman.

"Nothing will happen if I'm with you two." He replied lowly, motioning with his arm for you to follow.

You unwilling trailed behind the man, the small green child clung to your hip. The rear door of the ship opened with a great hiss, a pool of hot golden light following in its wake. The Child gurgled and shielded its large dark eyes with a small three-fingered hand, taken aback by the sudden rush of sunlight. 

"I thought that hunk of junk looked familiar," A raspy female voice greeted, her body merely a black silhouette against the scorching desert suns.

"Hello, Peli." The Mandalorian replied. 

Mando may have appeared stoic to most, but you'd been around him enough to been to notice the slight queues in his voice. When he found something funny, there was a certain waver to his gravelly tone, and it was present in this moment.

When your eyes finally adjusted to the light you were met with the sight of a short woman who was more hair than height. She had a head of wild, curly hair and was clad in a tattered jumpsuit. She wasn't at all what you were expecting, but the mischievous glint in her eyes was strangely comforting. You felt as if she were an old friend to you.

"Did you finally get hitched, Mando?" She asked, looking you up and down as if she were examining your worth. 

Your face grew hotter than what it already was in the blistering Tatooine heat as the man beside you cleared his throat.

Suddenly, you felt uncomfortable in your tattered, olive-colored overalls. You sure didn't look like a worthy bride.

"She is the Child's caretaker." He answered, his gaze still locked on Peli.

Your chest panged at his words and you held onto the Child tighter, tucking his small green head beneath your chin.

"Well, that's your loss. She's one fine specimen." The woman with the unruly hair replied as she flashed you a lopsided grin.

"May I see him?" She beamed at the baby clutched in your arms and the blush that was rapidly spreading across your face went unnoticed to her. 

You looked down at the Child and watched as he gazed at Peli with admiration, the two had seemingly met before.

"Of course," You hummed, descending the ramp so you could safely hand the Child over.

You watched as she hummed and fawned over the baby while you felt the Mandalorian's unnerving presence looming over your shoulder. His broad shadow that was cast across the dusty ground showed his arms folded over his armored chest.

"We stopped by hoping you could provide us some information-" 

"You never just want to come to visit me, there always has to be something in it for you." Peli huffed.

You quietly analyzed the relationship between the two. Lucky for you they weren't old flames, but they were close with one another. Why didn't Mando and you joke like this? How much longer were you going to have to sit next to him in the co-pilot's seat in deafening silence? You decided that if you got a moment alone with Peli, you'd ask how the two of them got so close. Maybe she'd be able to help you.

"What do you know about Mos Pelgo?" The bounty hunter asked, earning a puzzled expression from the older woman.

"Destroyed in battle." She bluntly replied, bouncing the baby up and down in her arms. 

"No, that's not right." The Mandalorian mumbled.

"Koresh said Mos Pelgo, right?" He turned toward you for support.

"If I recall correctly, yes." You said, now equally puzzled.

Now you worried that your run-in with the gangster Gor Koresh had been for nothing. What if the three of you almost died all for a dead end?

"R5," Peli called, summoning forth a rusted red and white droid.

"Pull up a map of Tatooine for me, will you?"

The droid hummed and whirred as it went to work at an achingly slow pace. 

"Can you go any faster you useless pile of bolts?" She groaned. 

Before the four of you appeared a flickering hologram of a map of Tatooine. 

"Now, can you find me Mos Pelgo?"

The droid let out another series of beeps before getting to work again, slightly faster this time.

"I don't see it." Mando frustrated announced as you stared at the blank spot on the map.

"Mos Pelgo was turned to dust, I'm not sure if you'll find what you're looking for there," Peli explained before looking skeptically towards you and the Mandalorian.

"We still have to try." You said, looking down at the baby in Peli's arms.

"For him."

"What sort of trouble are you two looking for anyway?" 

"A source told me I could find another Mandalorian there. Hopefully, they can lead me to others like the Child."

"And by a source he means gangster." You said under your breath, earning a hearty chuckle from the mechanic.

"At least he has someone with at least a lick of sense around now. I don't know what he thinks he's doing running and being in cahoots with gangsters. He has a responsibility now!" She waved the baby around in Mando's line of sight.

You smiled to yourself, happy to finally have some recognition for all the help you gave to The Mandalorian. If it weren't for you he probably wouldn't be able to keep his head on his shoulders.

"I have a land speeder you two can borrow, but if anything happens to it this time I swear, Mando I will have your-"

"I will bring it back in one piece." The man silenced, already walking towards the speeder.

You looked at the lone bike with dismay. It was going to be awkward to have to share one, especially for that long of a trip.

"I hate to ask for too much, Peli, but do you happen to have a second speeder?" You shyly requested with your hands clasped together in front of you.

"Nope, not since Mando here wrecked the last one." 

"You should be fine, I don't think he bites unless you tick him off." She teased with a wink.

You let out and nervous laugh and took hold of the Child as she handed him over to you. You tenderly put him into his pouch before tying it to the back of the speeder.

The Mandalorian had already boarded the bike and started the engine, it purred and sputtered like a sickly loth cat. Despite the worrying amount of noise the speeder made, you sat down on the back end of the vehicle, making sure to keep your distance from the bounty hunter in front of you.

"You're going to want to get closer than that, sweetheart. Don't need anyone flying off now do we?" Peli joked.

You hesitantly inched forward, wrapping your arms around Mando's waist for extra support. His beskar armor was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the desert suns that had been beating down on you.

"Are you alright?" He asked, peering over his shoulder at you.

You nodded and forced a smile in reply. When the Mandalorian finally looked away, you caught a glimpse of Peli's smug expression.

"If you two make it back by dinner, we're having bantha!" She shouted over the deafening hum of the speeder.

Your stomach was too knotted to even think of eating.

It was a long and uncomfortable ride to Mos Pelgo. Though you and the Mandalorian weren't having the greatest time, the Child seemed thrilled. He grinned into the wind as his long green ears fluttered behind him. At least someone was content. 

While the child babbled beside you, you spent the trip hoping Mos Pelgo had what you were looking for. You wanted a win for Mando, he'd been trying so hard to find anyone who could help get the Child home, but he was only coming up with loose ends.

"Do you see that?" You shouted, pointing off into the distance at an outline of a town.

Din applied a heavier push to the gas pedal and sent you flying straight for the small village of Mos Pelgo. When he finally got closer he slowed down, noticing that the loud rumble of the engine was attracting unwanted attention. Every resident of the town was stood outside their small hut glaring and covered in soot and ash. That sight was enough to tell you that Mos Pelgo was a mining colony, but what would a Mandalorian want with a mining colony?

"Stop here," You instructed, tapping Din's shoulder as you neared an abandoned-looking cantina.

The speeder came to a steady halt and Din cut the engine, engulfing the three of you in silence. 

"I guess this is a good place to start?" You shrugged as you slipped off the seat and dusted the sand off the front of your overalls.

"We'll find out." The Mandalorian said, a hint of doubt in his steely voice.

You retrieved the Child from the speeder and wore the sack he was stored in across your front. He babbled nonsense at you and then proceeded to point at his mouth, letting you know he was hungry. 

"We'll see if they have anything for you here, okay?" You cooed, scratching the baby's wrinkled head.

The Mandalorian led the way into the cantina, up three creaking wooden steps, and through a set of swinging doors that hadn't had their hinges oiled in far too long. The interior of the bar looked just as dead as the rest of Mos Pelgo. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and sand and the furniture was tattered and worn. Not to mention that the floorboards moaned beneath you as if they would give out at any moment.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" You called out, keeping close to Mando.

A door in one of the far back and dark corners of the bar swung open and a large and burly creature sauntered out.

"Can I help you, folks?" He asked as he saddled up behind the bar.

"We have a few questions for you actually, but first, do you have any bone broth for the little one?" You questioned, giving the man a hopeful smile.

"I do, now what questions do you have for me?"

You looked to the Mandalorian while the bartender prepared the broth for the baby, causing the armored man to clear his throat.

"Do you know of any Mandalorians who live here? Anyone who looks like me?"

The man eyed Din as he slid you the broth for the Child. Both you and your partner held your breath and hoped for an even slightly helpful answer.

"You must be thinking of the Marshal." The bartender replied as you shifted through your sack looking for credits.

"You've got a little mouth to feed, it's on the house." He added with a dismissing wave of his hand.

Before you could thank him for his kindness, Din shot another question.

"Your marshal wears Mandalorian armor?" 

You resisted the urge to smack Din on the arm. He never slowed down to just be thankful, he never really thought. This is normally where trouble began.

The creaking cantina doors that you had entered through earlier groaned open once again as a great beam of sunlight filled the room and illuminated the dust that floated through the hot, thick air.

"Well speak of the devil," The barman spoke before raising his hand to give a blunt salute.

You and Din both pivoted around to face the man who had sauntered into the bar, clad head to toe in battered Mandalorian armor. He sat down in a wooden chair, back slouched and knees spread like he owned the place. He radiated the energy of someone important and for a moment you thought that maybe the ghost town of Mos Pelgo wasn't a dead end after all. That was until the Marshal did something shocking. You watched out of the corner of your eye as Din's hand settled upon the blaster holstered to his thigh, but you used your free hand to push it away.

The Marshal had removed his helmet and it was sat on the table, tinted visor glinting in the sunlight. 

"Take it off," The bounty hunter said bluntly, still grasping his weapon even after you attempted to push him away.

"Or I will." 

With your eyes wide as saucers, you quickly sat the Child down out of harm's way and stood yourself between the two men. You wouldn't let Din be this reckless and kill off your only lead. The two of you had been searching far and wide for another Mandalorian for far too long. Yes, this man wasn't exactly a Mandalorian, but for now, he was all you had.

"Mando, don't." You ordered, looking into the darkness of his helmet and estimating where his eyes might lay.

You hated having to do this, to restrain him from protecting his culture. It was unfair that this Marshal could walk around as he did without facing the persecution Din faced and without devoting his life to Mandalorian culture. 

As you stood between the two men who now had their weapons drawn you thought of all the things you'd seen the bounty hunter go through, all because of his faith. The endless names and taunting, the rowdy bar fights that ended in dented beskar and bloodied knuckles. You wanted him to be able to let it all out, but you couldn't sacrifice this.

"Please don't fight." You said shakily, looking to your left at the Marshal.

The man's eyes were narrowed and strands of silver hair hung over his forehead. He was brazen and handsome as he awaited the Mandalorian's next move. The Marshal bit his cheek and followed your orders, lowering his blaster to his side.

"Drop it," You said, pointing your eyes down to the dirty floor below you.

"Please."

The Marshal raised his hands in defeat as he crouched down to the ground and carefully sat down his weapon. You kept your eyes locked on him as he rose back up with a cocky, lopsided grin.

"You aren't excluded from this, Mando." You huffed, not even having to look over your shoulder to know that Din still had his weapon raised.

Even through his modulator, you heard his quiet grunt of annoyance as he discarded his blaster.

"We don't want any trouble, sir-" You began before the Marshal outstretched his hand to you. 

"It's no problem at all, young lady." He said before taking your hand into a firm grip.

You meekly shook back and blushed furiously when he lifted your hand to his mouth and planted a kiss. Before you could get too stuck on wondering where the hell you were, the Marshal provided a formal introduction.

"I'm Cobb Vanth, the Marshal of this little town you've found yourselves at."

You gave him a nervous smile and gestured towards yourself.

"I'm Y/N and that's Mando." You said, remembering not giving away the bounty hunter's real name.

"And who's that little fella?" Vanth questioned, pointing towards the Child who was peering at him from his carrier.

"He doesn't have a name," Din answered, moving forward to stand beside you like an overprotective shadow.

"He's actually why we're here." You added before giving a kind wave to the baby to let him know you hadn't forgotten about him. He was getting to the age where he required lots of attention and would get quite fussy if you didn't play with him or hold him often.

"Well, I hate to interrupt you darlin', but I have to ask your friend here what all the fuss is with my armor?" The Marshal asked, his arms now inquisitively folded across his chest.

"The armor your wearing is Mandalorian. You're not supposed to wear it if you're not part of the creed." Mando explained.

You could tell he was trying his best to remain calm.

"How do you know I'm not part of the creed?" Vanth prodded, quirking a dark brow.

"Mandalorians never remove their helmets in front of anyone."

The cantina was covered in the blanket of a heavy and uncomfortable hush. You could tell that beneath the Marshal's tough exterior, he truly did feel guilty.

Before he could reply to Din, a faint rumble sounded off in the distance. You and the Mandalorian exchanged puzzled glances before the entire room began to shake. Bottles behind the bar began to fall off the shelf and shatter as you ran to fetch the Child who was cowering in the corner.

"What the hell is that?" You shouted, looking to the Marshal for an answer.

He motioned for you and Din to follow him outside and wearily you did so. The residents of Mos Pelgo were rushing to get inside and salvage whatever they could as a massive lump beneath the sand came rushing toward the village. You held the baby closer to your chest as the mass beneath the ground burst out and reared it's scaly head before it swallowed an unsuspecting bantha whole.

All fell quiet once the creature burrowed deeper into the ground and sped away, leaving destruction in its wake.

"Care to tell us what that was?" Mando said, not a hint of fear in his voice.

"Krayt dragon," Vanth replied nonchalantly, obviously this wasn't a once in a lifetime occurrence.

"And I tell you what, Mando; if you can help me get rid of that damn thing, I'll give you my armor."

The Marshal stood with one hand on his hip and the other outstretched, waiting for the Mandalorian's grasp.

"Do we have a deal?" 

"Deal," Din said, firmly shaking the other man's hand.

It seemed now that asking Vanth about the Child had become an afterthought and you did not agree to fight a massive monster who could swallow farm animals whole.

The Marshal offered you and the Mandalorian a place to stay for the night, but first, the three of you would devise a plan on how to deal with the dragon. 

You were back in the Cantina which now brimmed with customers. Though you were squared away in a booth in the back corner, you could still feel the wary stares of the locals burning into the nape of your neck. You just kept feeding the baby and minding your own business, hoping they'd all just leave you alone.

"Are you alright?" Din asked, noticing your anxious demeanor.

"I'm fine. I can just tell not everyone is as welcoming as the Marshal." You replied as you spooned more broth into the Child's mouth.

"I'm sure a few stories of how you pulled a blaster on their leader have already gotten around."

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking." He apologized, quietly watching you care for the baby.

"You rarely ever do." You teased, nudging his leg beneath the table.

"Sorry you two, duty called." Vanth huffed as he settled into the booth beside you.

You tensed up as your bare shoulder brushed against his own and his knee pushed into your thigh. 

"Are we ready to talk business, or are we thinking drinks first? I could really use something to take the edge off."

"We don't really do that sort of thing." You explained, trying your best to kindly decline.

"I have a backroom Mando can use," The Marshal continued to offer.

Din declined and the Marshal knew better than to push him any further. Now you were the only one left to persuade.

"Come on, live a little Miss Y/N!"

You looked to Din for reassurance to which he outstretched his arms to take the baby.

"Alright, I guess," You said before following an enthusiastic Vanth over to the bar.

The Marshal signaled to the bartender for two drinks as the two of you saddled up onto your stools. You looked nervously down at the tabled below you, counting every scratch in the wood.

"I hate to pry, but what exactly is the relationship between you and the Mandalorian?" Vanth asked.

"I help take care of the Child and in return, he gives me a place to stay. He got me out of a pretty nasty situation." You said in reply, choosing to keep some parts of your story a secret.

"I guess you could say he saved me, but it's nothing more than a business relationship if that's what you're asking."

The Marshal chuckled at your answer as he slid you your drink.

"It sounds like you're quite fond of him if you ask me." He teased, a handsome smile plastered on his bearded face.

"No, it's not like that." 

Instead of you sounding carefree, your voice was solemn and soft. It was a weak try at trying to convince the Marshal that you weren't in love with your partner, but it would have to do.

You sheepishly looked down at the short glass of electric blue liquid before you and hoped it wouldn't hit you like a sack of bricks.

"On the count of three-" He began before you stopped him.

"Wait!" You laughed, a nervous blush spreading across your face. 

"We don't have all night, darlin'." Vanth hummed, grinning when you finally got past your nerves and picked up your glass.

On three you tipped back your head and swallowed the bitter liquid. You held back a gag and wrinkled your nose as Vanth stared back at you unfazed.

"Good girl," He praised, giving an unexpected but not unwanted squeeze to your thigh.

Everyone was really staring at you now. You weren't just a stranger who wandered into town anymore, you were the girl on the Marshal's hip.

One shot soon turned into one too many and Vanth brought you back to the booth with you clinging onto his arm like a giggly mess.

"Alright, let's get to work, shall we?" Vanth said once he got you settled into the booth.

"Hi, Din." You giggled, smiling at him while the Marshal spread his plan across the table.

"How much did you drink, Y/N?" The bounty hunter asked, his voice oozing a disapproving tone.

"I have no idea," You slurred, jerking your head in the direction of the silver-haired man beside you.

"However much he gave me."

The heavily armored man let out a sigh, but the baby in his arms had the entire opposite reaction to your state. The Child found how drunk you were to be amusing.

"Sorry, I didn't expect her to react like this." Vanth sincerely replied as he fixed your disheveled hair.

"Are you gonna be okay, sweetheart?" He asked, brushing your disheveled hair away from your face.

You simply nodded in reply, not a care in the world. You hadn't felt this stress-free in a while and you were going to enjoy it while it lasted.

The crowd inside the cantina began to dwindle as it grew later in the night. The clientele within it would have to wake up with the sun, so staying out all night was not something the people of Mos Pelgo did often.

The Child had begun to drift off in your arms as you looked down at him contently despite your drunken stupor. Your blurred vision made him look more like a painting on a canvas rather than a real-life child.

"Well, I think we're about done here." Vanth said, looking down at the scroll of paper on the table with an expression of satisfaction.

"I should get these two to bed. We'll meet back up tomorrow." Din replied before inching his way out of the booth.

"Come on, Y/N."

The Marshal assisted you out of the booth in his usual gentlemanly manner.

"Thank you for the drinks," You slurred, pouting as the Mandalorian removed the baby from your grasp.

"I-I'll see you tomorrow?" 

Din now had a firm but gentle grasp on your wrist as he tugged you towards the exit.

"Yes ma'am, I'll have a hangover cure waiting," Cobb replied with a lopsided grin.

"Hangover?" You worriedly muttered as the Mandalorian tugged you out the swinging cantina doors.

You followed an arm's length behind Din as he led you back to your shelter for the night. If you were sober you would have easily kept up, but it felt as if you had weights strapped to your boots and the sands of Tatooine weren't aiding you in any way.

"Keep up, it's dark out. I don't want to be out here if that dragon comes back." The Mandalorian muttered, his voice a humming metallic whir in the quiet desert air.

When you finally made it to the small hut, you staggered through the door and fell heavily down onto your cot. You laid in the dark and stared up at the ceiling as Din put the Child to bed and lit a few candles to light up the darkness of the room.

"You weren't like yourself tonight." He said quietly, his broad back turned to you as he fussed with lighting another candle.

"What?" You grunted, holding yourself upright in bed by your elbows. 

"The way you acted today was unlike you. Honestly, it was irresponsible."

The gears in your brain turned as you strung together every word of his sentence into something coherent to your drunken mind. 

"What do you mean unlike me?" You scoffed, now sitting upright with your legs folded beneath you.

"You're acting like you know me."

"Of course I know you, Y/N. I've been carting you across the galaxy for months now." The Mandalorian replied, turning to face you now that he had finished his battle with the lamp.

"Exactly! We've been stuck in your hunk of junk traveling through space for so long and you haven't even tried to get to know me." You shot back, your voice raising itself an octave. 

The combination of the alcohol and your now unbottled emotions made you feel hot and sickly. It was the kind of discomfort where out of the blue your clothes felt like they were going to swallow you whole or your boots felt like they were laced too tight. You were a ticking time bomb and everything was bound to set you off.

"So what? You think the Marshal knows you better?" 

"That's what this is about? You're jealous?" You snapped, your jaw practically hanging to the floor out of shock. 

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife as the bounty hunter hovered above your cot. You could feel his glare, even if it was obscured by his helmet. The liquid courage that was coursing through you urged you to challenge him further, but deep down you knew that you might as well be playing with fire. 

"Go to bed. It's late and I don't want you waking the Child." He said flatly before extinguishing the lamps he had put on just minutes earlier.

You dramatically fell back onto the bed, the force of your body causing the springs in the mattress to creak beneath you. Scowling up at the ceiling, you counted the wood panels above your head and listened to the quiet thud of the Mandalorian stripping off his boots before crawling into bed. 

If there hadn't already been a rift between you two before, there was now.

You awoke to bright sunlight leaking in through the narrow windows of the hut. In the pool of honeyed sunlight, the Child babbled from within his cradle. To your left, Mando laid in bed, the slow rise and fall of his chest suggesting that he was still asleep. You pondered over how he managed to sleep with all his armor on before remembering the argument the two of you had gotten into the night before. The events leading up to it were foggy, but sadly that had managed to stick with you. This is why you never drank, you weren't fond of having to piece your life back together the next morning. You forced yourself out of bed, trying to ignore the pounding in your head, and walked over to where the baby was.

"Good morning, little one." You hummed.

The Child beamed back up at you with wide, dark eyes and your heart fluttered at his admiring gaze. He was only a baby of course, but his kindness was enough to mend your wounds from the night before.

Behind you, the Mandalorian stirred in his bed. 

"Hello," You heard him mutter sleepily.

"Did the Child wake you?"

"No, it was that damn sun." You replied, squinting into the light.

You were much more used to the darkness of your quarters in the Razorcrest. Some curtains in the hut would've been favorable. It probably would've made the space a little more welcoming too. You hadn't noticed it in the pitch dark of the night before, but the room itself was quite sad. You were stood upon dirt floors and surrounded by blank, beige walls.

"Listen, I'm sorry about-"

You didn't know if now was the right time to apologize, but maybe there would never be a 'right time'. 

"Don't apologize. I shouldn't have acted the way I did. You were drunk and all I did was provoke you. I should be the sorry one." Mando cut you off, now stood behind you with a gloved hand awkwardly placed on your shoulder as the two of you hovered over the Child.

"I guess we should go find the Marshal. He's probably waiting for us." You said, looking over your shoulder at the masked man behind you.

You had placed a band-aid on the situation, now it was time to carry on. More important things hung in the balance than you having butterflies for the faceless bounty hunter you shadowed behind.

You had a dragon to kill.

let me know what you think of this first part! also let me know if you would like to be tagged in the second part so you are alerted when it comes out. thank you so much for reading! <3

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #star wars

[living-in-the-state-of-dreaming]

Yandere! Minos Griffon: Head-cannons.

I’ve been wanting to do head-cannon’s for Minos for quite a while now, but the problem was I didn’t want to rush it and just spew out a bunch of head-cannons; because I didn’t think they’d be that great if I did that; but I watched the episode’s he was in again and with them in mind, I decided to write these. 

I hope you all enjoy these because I really love this series, The Lost Canvas specifically and I deeply believe that the characters in the anime, like Minos and, most especially, Alone, are not given enough attention. Plus I thought this would be a cool way for me to get back into writing since I haven’t written anything on here for a while. ^~^ 

Anyway, Please enjoy. ^~^ 

Warning: Due to the mentions of possibly adult subjects and dark and possibly triggering theme’s, this post is ONLY for those over the age of 18 only and not easily triggered. Minors please do not interact or read. Thank you. 

“ Entertain me won’t you? My beautiful puppet. “ 

As a judge of hell, Minos, the most sadistic and cruel of the three judges is one who delights in chaos simply because it brings entertainment for him--something that he has found increasingly difficult to find among his long life and otherwise boring duties as a Judge Of Hell-- but none more so than seeing someone or a multiple someone’s dance on the end of his cosmic strings to escape, no matter how futile that attempt may be. This only makes it all the more unfortunate for you when you happen to catch his attention, but it’s also something that at first inwardly shocks him when he finds himself interested and intrigued by a human, much less one without a cosmo.

Upon noticing this Minos will find it little more than laughable and you a passing interest who happened to catch his eye by chance when you, instead of cowering and begging for your life like the other humans, when your home was destroyed, instead stood up against him with defiance and resolve burning in your hues, how your lips curled up into a defiant snarl while you glared up at him with little intimidation and fear, regardless of how you knew he could easily kill you if he wished, despite your friends and family avidly advising you against it, something that was quickly met by anger by his men, who, outraged by your insulant tongue, quickly began moving towards you with the intent of silencing you. 

As much as he knows he should’ve simply allowed his men to kill you, he doesn’t and instead, with command clear and obvious in his voice, speaks against it, all while his gaze remains on you, his expression tinged with intrigue. Not giving any response to the confusion and surprise this causes in his men, Minos, silver eyes never leaving your face, approaches you, stopping only when he is standing directly in front of you. Primitively doing this as a test of sorts to see whether or not your courage and bravado would wither away once he stood before you, his intrigue only grows when it doesn’t, causing his eyes to narrow in amusement. Reaching out a hand of his, he takes a firm hold of your jaw amidst his cool, surplus clad hand and once he does, it’s only then that he sees the smallest hint of fear, by way he could feel your pulse quicken regardless of how that glare of defiance did not leave your eyes.

It’s then, while looking into your eyes and watching for any change of emotion, and listening to any change of pattern in your heart, like a griffon observing it’s next meal, that he comes to a decision: He won’t kill you. No. Destroying you would be too much of a waste, it would be too boring, instead, he’ll toy with you, play with you and see just how long it can take him to get fear to shine in those eyes of yours; until you're begging him for death. While he continues to hold your jaw in his grip, his lips curl into an anticipated smirk and before you can ask what he finds so amusing, his invisible strings are already wrapping themselves around your body, leaving you stunned for a long moment, due to knowing what that meant before your eyes shift back to that glare. The smirk remains, cruel and sadistic before his gaze returns to the people who had survived the onslaught he and his men had done, causing the town to be near rubble and when his gaze lands on one of your family members in particular, before glancing back at you, despite your best attempts to hide it, fear, more so for them, comes to you quickly, causing you to throw curses at him demanding he leaves them alone, to which he responds, the smirk still not leaving his expression and instead only growing as sadistic amusement dances on his tongue.

“ Whether I allow them to live or not is entirely up to you. Come with me like a good little doll, unless you want to watch as I break your friends and family right in front of you. “

It’s an amusement that only seems to be elongated upon noticing the way you deflate inside at hearing your family and friends beg the judge not to take you, including the ones who had shown courage and glares along with you but it’s a decision that you’ve already made, to keep them alive, despite how much you loathe the very idea. 

So beings your new ‘life’ although it is hardly what one would call life, stripped of your friends, your loved ones and your freedom, although Minos keeps you well-fed to keep his doll from death, the room that you are kept in at first is more so a dungeon than an actual room. Ensuring the comfort of a human is very low on the griffon's priorities after all and for a long while your sleeping arrangements will involve you sleeping on the cold floor with only your body heat to keep you warm at night. The most freedom you have is going to the toilet and bathing in the bathroom connected to your cell-like room and eating when he delivers you your food; anything else is off-limits to you to ensure no chance of escaping; and if you do try and escape, his punishments are cruel. One's which involve denying you clothes, or food until you beg him on your knees. Why he does this is simple, or at least, in his mind, as it’s to ensure you learn and accept your place as his doll and he, your master, one who gives you what you need to survive and can deprive you of them if you do not behave, it is all very dehumanizing, but a strategy that Minos believes essential, for his dear little puppet to learn proper obedience and it’s a method that slowly but surely works as, despite how much you tried to escape, defy and go against his wishes, the denial of basic human necessities atop of everything else quickly begins to eat away at your senses.

If he believes it necessary, Minos will not hesitate to break one or several of your bones with his Cosmic Marination, mostly to prove to you how powerless you are against him, or to escape him, before having those same bones mended and healed while you are unconscious, most likely due to having passed out due to the agonizing pain of the several broken bones. For a long while, Minos will purposely play and toy with you, giving you small tidbits of hope at escape, only to destroy them and then punish you for being foolish enough to believe such a thing. That this punishment is your fault. 

Yet despite how he enjoys knowing that he’s slowly breaking you down, a large part of Minos does not want to take that part of you away and have you become entirely submissive, at least, not entirely. Your courage and the will that burned in your eyes was what initially lured him to you, despite how he would never admit it, due to him being a rather prideful and arrogant man, like a certain god of death. To anyone who asks, be it his fellow judges, specters, or other gods, Minos will only shrug it off, referring to you as a means to keep him entertained, but he will never admit that his interest in you steams far beyond that of simple amusement, at least, now it does. His pride keeps him from admitting such a thing, but overtime you, his dear doll, have grown on him, very much in fact. Those moments where he will allow his fingertips to brush over your soft skin when he’ll thread his fingers through your soft, long hair; all while you're forced to sit atop his lap due to his strings; are moments that he has come to crave like the chaos that comes with every holy war. But that will be subject to change as his obsession with you, one that he will be in denial of for a large amount of time until the moment he finally accepts it, grows more and more.  

The strings will remain bound to you, but instead of you being kept in that cell-like room, you will now be kept in his private chambers, and due to how your rebellious nature and defiance has dwindled you’ll be given more freedom while you are inside of his room, but even then the threat that if you try to escape, he will hunt down and decimate your family as easily as he did your town, hangs over your head. You have no problems believing that to be true, especially with how keen he now seems to keep you by his side, often taking you to meetings he has with other judges solely to show you off. The means are cruel and sadistic, but it is one that, just like his initial treatment of you when he first brought you to the underworld, feeds into his sadistic side while also asserting his dominance once again, making it clear to you as to who the one in control is, despite his….Ill-advised but growing infatuation with you. 

How he will show you off will defer in two ways depending on whether or not you misbehave or behave. One is dressing you nicely, something that he can easily do given his authority and position as a Judge Of Hell, one of his arms being around your waist as he sits there with a satisfied and smug smirk, mentioning just how lovely you look, to both you and the other judges and the other is a far more inhuman way. Despite how he may find your stubbornness and defiance cute, Minos’s patience is not immune to coming to a grinding halt if he believes punishment is order and he will strip you of all your clothes, put a collar around your neck, and have you sit on his lap as punishment, the only thing that makes it less horrible is the fact that he sits you in a way no one can see the flower between your legs, only to whisper in your ear as you bury your face into his neck from shame and embarrassment, while his fingers thread through your hair. It is a means that quickly puts an end to any misbehavior; as you know, he can get quite creative with how he uses those strings of his.

This way of showing you off is one that is only given more cause by the irritating and annoyance he will feel; if he believes that you are acting ungrateful, especially with how kind he is now, or trying to, be to you. Letting you sleep not only in his room but also in his bed while ensuring your comfort while seeing to your needs and going out of his way to ensure that you had something to eat, instead of giving you food from the underworld. Things he would never even consider doing had you just been another human. During these kinds of displays, although you only see them as what they are, a type of punishment, your only relief is how he has yet to act on the desire you see whenever he looks at you in such a vulnerable and submissive state. Although you wonder how long it will be until that happens, despite how Minos has said, time and time again, that he’ll wait until you come to him.

If any of the specters that he commands show an interest in you, he will not be happy, but will simply give off a remark saying that it would be best if they’re interests lay elsewhere, but if that specter persists Minos has no problems putting that fool in his place. If the fool still does not get it and tries to so much as touch you, Minos’s strings will wrap around that specter's neck and snap it in half faster than you can say hell. You are his doll after all and the judge of hell does not take lightly to anyone, specter or human, trying to take what he now believes is his. 

“ You’re always so lovely when you dance for me. “

#Saint Seiya: The Lost Canvas #Jude Of Hell: Minos Griffon #Minos Griffon #Yandere!Minos Griffon #Yandere!Minos Griffon x reader

[lysissisyl]

6 months

To @patricia-von-arundel, who is the most wonderful woman in this world and the love of my life. Thank you for changing everything. 💜

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Byleth was late. Byleth was never late. It was part of her mercenary training: timing is vital for a mercenary.

Edelgard also knew her schedule and she was always in her study at that time of the day, so why wasn’t she, today of all days? She was sitting at the table, the teapot in the middle, pastries on an elaborated tray. It had taken her 5 attempts to manage to brew tea the way Byleth did; not Bergamot this time, a rare, exotic green tea that Byleth had been looking for for a while. She really hoped she had made it right... At least she knew the pastries were good. She had spent a week practicing, burned a ton (when they actually reached the oven), made a mess balancing the ingredients more times than she could count. She probably fed all the fauna in Enbar, rats included. Damn! She threw away and distributed so many of her disasters to the animals there that one day she had found a rat waiting outside of the kitchens! She couldn’t help a yelp and had Hubert running in, his hands wrapped in dark magic, ready to fight a monster probably. He had almost pulverized the small beast. He would have if she hadn’t stopped him. She hated the damn rats, but she had seen the tiny mice waiting under a bush nearby and realized that bold critter was trying to feed its family. Thinking about family made her soft. Silly. She had taken an half burned cookie from the bag, cut it into pieces and thrown it to the rat. Then she had shut the door as fast as she could, hands shaking. Stupid. But the cookies were perfect today. So was the tea, as far as she could tell. The teapot and teacups were matching and matched the colors of the glaze: a mix of red and blue that reminded her of them. Everything was where it was supposed to be, except for Byleth. She stood up and started pacing; she went back and forth, from the table to the window, three times, then three more, to check the gardens, but also to be able to think. She looked at her own reflection in the glass. She wasn’t wearing her regalia; in its place, a much more simple attire, more practical, something that would have been comfortable enough for basically anything, fishing included. Long, stretchy, black riding pants, a jacket with golden buttons and red trimmings, a white blouse with golden embroideries barely visible under it. The high boots completed the unusual look. Her long, white hair was loose, with only the two familiar ribbons adorning it. It looked a bit different from her Garreg Mach days, a little bit more savage, perhaps, free to move when she did, occasionally forcing her to brush them aside from her eyes; it often leant on her shoulders, caressing her cheeks. She found it unnerving, but Byleth found it cute. Only six month...and she looked so different. It wasn’t just her outfit - that was just for the day - or the absence of the crown. Her posture wasn’t as tense, her eyes were still sharp, but not as angry, and the faint smile that curved her lips when she thought that it was all because of Byleth was natural and sweet. She still had bad days, she still felt overwhelmed by all the responsibilities, by how demanding her routine could be, sometimes she still felt exhausted in the evening. She still had nightmares from time to time. Not everything was perfect as the tea table set behind her, but...Byleth was there on the bad days as she was on the bright ones, reminding her everything was going to be alright. When she felt overwhelmed, she took her hand, made her take a break, let her rest her head on her shoulder and told her stories, beautiful stories and dreams. She told her about how they were making them true. When she woke up shaking from a nightmare, she could hide in her arms, listening to her heart beat until hers stopped screaming and running. The reason her shoulders and back weren’t stiff today was that Byleth had massaged them gently yesterday, washing all the tension from the day away before going to bed. She had taken that habit after seeing her in pain. Edelgard had protested more than once, but they were both stubborn and, in the end, she had realized that Byleth loved feeling her melt under her touch. She sighed at the thought: she could almost feel it... Hearing the door brought her back to reality. She blushed realizing Byleth had chosen that exact moment to come in. She shook her head to chase away that thought that still made her shiver. Even being late, her timing sure was perfect. She let out a very different sigh.

Byleth looked at the table, then at Edelgard, a warm smile making her eyes shine in a way that was getting more and more common. Edelgard had to fight the instinct to run to her and kiss her until the tea got cold. She gestured for her to sit and went back to her chair, pouring some tea for them both before doing the same. Byleth kept observing her every move, a faint smile still on her face. “Thank you, El.” “There is no reason to thank me. At least try the tea first: I don’t have your expertise.” Edelgard stared while she took a sip, almost holding her breath. Byleth  widened her eyes in surprise. “You found it! Oh, El...” Her eyes were so hard to read now, but also so warm... “it’s perfect, just perfect.” Edelgard was suddenly aware of how rigidly she was sitting. She let go. “I want to make today perfect.” “You always want to make things perfect, El.” Byleth teased. “This is different.” She was sulking just a bit, then her voice grew softer. “Today is special.” “Is it?” “Do you remember what happened six months ago?” “We won the war. Is it why we’re celebrating?” Edelgard sighed, playing with her ring with her other hand. Byleth could be so oblivious sometimes! It didn’t hurt her. She knew her well, she knew she loved her. She was just...Byleth. “It’s been six months since the day you gave me this ring, the day I knew you wanted to stay, you were choosing me...” she hesitated “forever.” Byleth tilted her head. “Why do people care about this kind of things? I love you every day, I feel lucky every day I spend by your side. Why should today be different?” Edelgard giggled. That was so very Byleth and so sweet. She didn’t care at all that she forgot about their anniversary: she just wanted to look that beautiful woman in the eyes, tell her what a gift she was and kiss the crumbs off her lips. Speaking of crumbs, Byleth was staring at the other half of a cookie in her hand. “This is peculiar.” “In what sense?” She tried to hide the worried note in her voice. “They’re different from any I’ve found around here. Very rich on cinnamon. Are the cookies exotic too?” Edelgard paled. “Is something wrong with them?” “No, not at all. I actually like them a lot. I want to know where I can find them.” Edelgard’s cheeks turned a delightful red. “I...m-made them.” “That’s great! That sure makes it easy to get more!” She looked like a happy kid. Edelgard’s smile was smug and wide. “You can have them anytime, my love.”

After finishing their tea, it was time for the next step. Edelgard had thought about that day a lot, about what Byleth would have loved, but, in the end, she had realized Byleth was still learning that herself, so the best gift she could offer her was probably a day to just improvise and discover things together. No planning for once. “I cleared my schedule for today.  As I said, I want to make this day perfect for you, so...make a wish, make all the wishes you can think of. We can do anything. Today, I’ll be the one following you.” “No plans, no organizing, no schedules, nothing?”  Byleth raised an eyebrow, teasing again. “Don’t make me regret it!” “I promise you won’t.” The smirk on her face made her wonder which troubles she had just gotten herself into.”

To Edelgard’s surprised, Byleth’s first request was to go to town for some shopping. Even stranger, she came back with an elegant pair of trousers a formal jacket and a blouse, an outfit that looked like a fancier version of what Edelgard was wearing. She sure appreciated seeing it on Byleth. She tried not to stare. And failed. Byleth giggled.

Their second stop was at a flower shop. Byleth went in alone and came out with some roses and a carnation plant in a vase. She offered it to Edelgard with a smile. “I thought you could like a plant for your study or we could keep it in our room. I prefer plants to flowers. Flowers die. This plant is something we can keep and nourish. And I want to give you life.” The look on Edelgard’s face went from confusion, to surprise, to endearment. The way Byleth thought sure was weird, but so was hers and they could understand  each other amazingly well. She had appreciated and cherished all the flowers Byleth had given her in their monastery days, but she knew she would have loved this plant a hundred times more. She loved how Byleth had started questioning things, reading them in a completely different wa now that her emotions were so much stronger. She wondered how hard and exciting everything could be to her. That was part of why she had structured the day like that, after all: she wanted Byleth to express herself.

Byleth’s third request surprised her in a different way. She asked to go by the river, right south from Embar, to the cove where it met the see. She hadn’t been there in years, so many years... Walking there with Byleth felt so nostalgic and so different at the same time… She could feel her hand in hers, holding gently, but firmly. She could feel the warmth of her skin and the marks left by the sword. Familiar. Reassuring. She had run to the cove many times in the past, wild and excited, but it was another time, another life, another El. Walking there like this felt a bit like going back, a bit like going on. She turned toward Byleth. “Have I ever told you about where my love for the opera comes from?” Byleth shook her head. “One of my older sisters was very fond of the opera. I was still too young to be brought to the theater and definitely too young to properly understand it, so were most of my brothers. One day we teased her a little too much about her daydreams and ended up making her cry, so later we wanted to surprise her, to make up for it. We asked our oldest brother; he tried to explain us what an opera play was at his best and we went to the cove and tried to set up a show for her. She was so happy and we had so much fun that we decided to make it a small ritual between us. We did it every time one of us was down or when we wanted to celebrate something. It was a way to tell each other ‘I love you’. I started to grow pretty fond of it myself. One day, my sister took us girls apart and told us our father was concerned about our future, that she could see it, that he had told her; she believed she was going to be engaged soon and that we would have followed. She was a very romantic young girl, always reading some love story or daydreaming about her future husband. She asked us to celebrate the day of her engagement with one of our plays, one inspired by the cheesy stories she liked. I said I wanted an adventurous tale for mine, full of swords and mighty fights. She told us we could all choose one, that that could be another little siblings rituals. When she told the boys, they all made faces, but they all agreed in the end. It was very silly. It was the week before I was taken to Faerghus.” She stopped, staring into the distance for a few seconds, then shook her head again. “Sorry, I rambled.” Byleth smiled. “The story of the heroic imperial princess who fought terrible monsters and saved the innocents, uh?” She glared at her. “Don’t laugh at me!” She didn’t sound truly irritated. “I’m not. Actually...that’s more or less what happened.” Edelgard’s eyes met hers. “Don’t laugh at me.” She sounded sad and bitter. “I am not. You changed everything, El.”

There was a strict passage between high rocks to cross before reaching the shore. It looked smaller now, tighter. Edelgard sure didn’t mind walking pressed against Byleth. Once they crossed it and got to the other side, she froze. There was a stage on the sand, not made of old boards and branches found on the shore, a real one. The curtains were fancy and velvety, not white sheets and colorful blankets stolen from the palace. (How many times had the servants yelled at them?) There was a huge blanket on the sand in front of the stage, with a full dinner for two displayed on it. Hubert was standing at its right. He bowed and gestured them to sit. Byleth nodded. “Thank you, Hubert.” He showed them a small grin in response. “Anything for Lady Edelgard.” Edelgard shifted her focus from one to the other, then gave Byleth a questioning look. “You hadn’t told me about that story, not until today. But...Hubert did, a few weeks ago. He was there too.” She explained. “When I told him I wanted to organize something special for you and that I was thinking about bringing you here and to the opera right after, he told me about the past. He wanted me to be aware and careful. I thought about something else.” “You...” but the curtain opened. To Edelgard’s surprise, it was Dorothea appearing on the scene. She hadn’t properly been back to the company after the war, but she still liked to perform from time to time, as a hobby now. She had convinced the Mittelfrank company to do her a favor that day. Manuela had written the script. For a while, Edelgard wondered why her former classmate wasn’t playing the main part, the emperor's part, then remembered her own words, years ago, when she had said that no story about her would have been complete without a Dorothea. The fact that she wanted to strangle both her and Byleth for making a play about her was soon forgotten, except for when Dorothea sang that song from their Garreg Mach days again. ‘Hail the mighty Edelgard...’ The mighty Edelgard was as red as her regalia. Byleth made a comment about it being a shame that she wasn’t wearing it, that earned her a very cute glare.

At the end of the play, Edelgard was at a loss for words. When Dorothea approached them and Byleth handed her the roses, she wanted to say thanks, but all that came out was “Why?” “Byleth contacted me around a month ago, telling me about her crazy plan for your anniversary, so I pulled some strings. She also helped me setting things up this morning, before Hubert could get here without raising suspicions.” She winked. That’s why she was late... Then another thought crossed Edelgard's mind, making her frown. “Anniversary?” Her eyes moved from Dorothea to Byleth. “You were wondering why people actually cared about it earlier.” Byleth grinned. “I was. And I still believe what I said. I love you every day. I feel lucky to be with you every day. Anniversaries aren’t different. But...why would I miss a chance to make you smile?” She smirked. “You liar!” Edelgard was only half-pretending to sulk. Byleth greened. “I didn’t lie. I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” It looked like deceiving could be vital for a mercenary too.

#Edeleth #FE3H #Fire Emblem Three Houses #Edelgard #Byleth #RedInk #6 months (and 3 days) of us #Late like Byleth 😅 #I love you so damn much! #💜💙