#finish season one I know it might start off slow but trust me it gets GOOD

[thatskindarough]

“Suddenly you realize you’ll never have the good relationship you wanted. And as long as they were alive, even though you’d never admit it, part of you, the stupidest goddamn part of you was still holding on to that chance. And you didn’t even realize it until that chance went away.”

Bojack horseman got me messed up. I think Izzy would enjoy the show. And have some major self reflection.

#art #illustration #izzy hands #ofmd fanart #bojack horseman #“my mother is dead #and everything is worse now #becuase now I know I’ll never have a mother who looks at me from across the room and says #‘Bojack Horseman I see you’ #but I guess it’s good to know #sorry sorry #I think a lot of Izzy fans would enjoy Bojack so watch it WATCH IT #but uh…content warning for everything #finish season one I know it might start off slow but trust me it gets GOOD

[turtlecleric]

I Know Now

late as usual ~ nsfw, rise!donnie x reader (cw: altered state of mind)

---

“Dearest?”

“Yes, Donnie.”

"Tell me again."

You blow out a slow breath, closing your eyes and pushing down the hint of exasperation that's starting to bloom in your chest. He's worried, you remind yourself. Unsure. Hesitant in a way that you simply aren't. You can be patient, for him. 

"It will be disorienting and confusing," you say once more. "I may feel overwhelmed or scared. I may not be able to control my thoughts or actions. I may hate it."

Donnie searches your face, brows furrowed. "And you still want t-"

"Yes."

The movement of his free hand tapping rapidly against his thigh catches your eye. It makes you soften further, seeing how worried he is about this. About you. You step forward to wrap your arms around him, and his own slide around you immediately, making the bottle of pills in his hand rattle as he does. His cheek rests on the top of your head, and you bask in the comfort of his hold for a long moment before leaning back to catch his gaze. Somber, anxious eyes look back at you. 

"I trust you,” you murmur. “I understand the risks. And I still really want to do this. Okay?"

His mouth opens, but he closes it without saying anything. When he opens it again, it's with a firmer, more resolute expression.

"Okay," he says, nodding and pulling away fully from your hug. "Let's get you set up then."

He leads you to the bed nestled in the back corner of the workshop - one that he put together specifically for this. Sturdy, with a mattress that has just the right amount of give, an absurd number of pillows, and the softest blankets and sheets you've ever had the pleasure of running your hands over. The memory of when he'd first shown you the finished product makes you smile. 

It's perfect, Donnie!

Of course it is! I made it to your exact preferences based on the data I've collected over the past few weeks, and - oh, let me show you how the heating function works!

God. You love him so fucking much. 

Settled amongst the pillows now, with him kneeling on the bed beside you, your heart sings thinking about how much work he's put into this. The pills, obviously. The bed. The lectures and pamphlets and reminders that you don't have to do this - despite the fact that you were the one who requested it in the first place. Wanting to experience a taste of what it's like for him, so you can understand better but… also because you're a little selfish. He's told you countless times how much better his season is now that he has you. Alone, it had been miserable. With you… it's something incredible. And he always seems so content during his season - relaxed and satisfied and so goddamn happy. Giddy with it, even. You want to see what that feels like. 

"The effects should last approximately one hour," Donnie says, pulling you from your thoughts. The bottle rattles again when he gingerly shakes a single pill into his hand. "Don't forget that your heart rate will increase, and you'll start to feel really warm. That's normal. Oh, and don’t forget that-”

"Donnie," you call softly, cutting him off. You take the pill from him with one hand and use the other to weave your fingers around his and squeeze. "As long as I'm with you, I'll be fine."

His eyes soften, and the tiny smile on his face bolsters you. Before he has a chance to make you repeat the warnings (again), you reach over to one of the cup holders jutting out from the side of the bed and pick up a water bottle. 

(It's important to stay hydrated, dearest. Ooh! Watch this, there's a hidden cupboard for snacks that raises up when you press-)

The pill goes down easily, and Donnie immediately starts to ramble again. Reminding you of what to expect, of the contingency plans in place should you decide this really isn't for you and you need to stop. You half-listen, smirking when he falters for just a moment as you start to strip. 

You'd thought you might get a bit chilly since he keeps it relatively cold in here, but you're feeling okay even without your clothes. You get comfortable on the bed, lying down and… about to ask how long it will take for… hm.

Hm.

He's still talking, but you're a little distracted by the way his throat moves as he speaks. The way his tendons stretch and pull when he shifts, when he turns his head, or... the glimpses of his tongue, his teeth, as he talks. 

Wait. Focus. 

"-feeling?"

You blink up at him. "...Huh?" 

He looks like he can't decide between worry or amusement. It's not an unusual expression to see on his face - you evoke that in him pretty often - but something about it mesmerizes you. 

"How are you feeling?" He says again.

Feeling. How are you. Feeling. 

It's hard to focus when you're staring at him. Looking away feels impossible, but you manage to close your eyes and think. 

You feel... warm. That's right. He said that would happen. You feel… hazy. Like your thoughts have to drag themselves through molasses to make it to the surface. Hungry? No, hungry isn't quite right, but it's... similar. Like a craving. You want. You want. You feel your pulse in your throat, hear the blood rushing in your ears. You miss him. He’s right here, but you miss him. 

When you open your eyes and see him there, you feel yourself relax. His gaze is intense. Heavy. It makes you shiver, goosebumps rising along your arms and legs, and you try to focus. Focus. Try to… 

Why aren’t you touching him? It seems stupid to not be touching him. More than stupid, it feels wrong. You reach out, resting a hand against his plastron, feeling the vibrations there as he speaks.

Wait, what is he saying? You see the movement of his mouth, and you hear the words, but… the meanings slip away like smoke in your hands. Your name is the only thing you recognize, and oh, the way he says your name has you shivering again. Shivering - but you're so warm. The thought makes you smile, but it falls when you suddenly become aware of every inch that separates you from him. You place your other hand on his arm, curling around his bicep, pulling him closer, because he’s so far away. Even when he moves where you pull him, letting you wrap around him and press your face into the crook of his neck, he’s still too far away. 

He says your name again. Quiet and gentle, and you love the sound of it. It echoes in your mind, a layered whisper that soothes something you can’t put a name to. You breathe him in, nuzzling into his neck as the both of you lie down together. Arms around each other, your legs entwined, he’s right here but you need him closer. You need… something. You need…

Hands massage your back. Your shoulders. Someone is moaning and you think it might be you. You want to say something, but you can’t, can’t, can’t - there’s an ache in your chest, a burning in your stomach. Your thighs are sticky. You need- you can feel your cunt throbbing.

A brief moment of clarity. Suddenly you can understand his steady murmuring, can fully remember what's happening and how you got here. 

“-okay, I’m here. I’ll take care of you, okay? You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

You need him. You need him, you need him right now, and you have to tell him. You don’t even care, don’t have the capacity to even be embarrassed by how whiny your voice is when you finally manage to speak. “Donnie. Donnie, please. Please, I need you. Please fuck me, please, Donnie, please, I need-” 

The moment he kisses you, all of your thoughts slip away. There is only him and you and him and you and him but then he pulls away, and it hurts. You miss him. You try to tell him, ask him to come back, but someone is whimpering, and you miss him, and it hurts, and you can’t think. 

You miss him. 

His hands find you again, his lips pressing against your own, and the relief is overwhelming. Your entire body shudders, shaking apart beneath him. You can't differentiate between the touches, his hands and mouth here and there and everywhere, everywhere, everywhere at once. Someone whines again. 

Donnie lies on top of you then, arms pressed between you and the mattress, holding you close against him, and oh. The weight of him, the smell of him, the taste of him - it’s enough to make you go boneless. Something, something - his knee, you think - slides between your legs, pressing against you. You can't help but grind against it as his tongue just barely glides against yours. It’s so warm. Everywhere, everything, warm and good and safe.

You’re trembling, chills running up your spine, lighting sparking along your skin. You’re flying, you think. Weightless, somehow, with only friction and pressure and Donnie Donnie Donnie. He adjusts, his knee moving away, but before you can protest something slips inside of you. His finger, you realize after a few pumps, and it's better, so much better, but it's not enough and you need more more more-

Donnie is whispering something that you don’t understand, but his voice alone is like a balm. Soothing your impatience. Your desperation. You focus on the rumble of it, then on the rub of his jaw against yours, then on the slick circles of his thumb against your clit, then his fingers - two, now - pumping easily in and out of you. Your hips are in constant motion, your arms clawing at his arms, and you can't stop seeking him in every way that you can. Time warps - there is no time, only feeling as you fight to somehow have him closer. 

He lifts himself up, and you miss having his weight press you into the mattress, but then you feel him start to press something bigger inside of you, and fuck yes this is it. His cock - this is what you were craving, what you need more than oxygen itself, and it feels so fucking good. The feeling of him inside you, filling you up, full, so full of him. And then he starts to move and - no, this is what you need. This delicious, wet friction, the feeling of him spearing you open again and again as you pull apart at the seams. There is only him and here and now, and it’s all you've ever wanted and it's yours. 

Are you coming? You can't tell if you are or if it just feels that good to have him pumping into you. You can't seem to think past each thrust, your mind going blank after every... Fuck, are you coming? Or does it just feel that good-

One of his words slips through the mist that's replaced your mind. Mine. It makes your skin spark. You've never felt more safe, more content, more full. It's almost too much. Just the brush of his scales against your skin is enough to overwhelm you, and fuck, fuck, are you coming or does he just feel that good inside of you?

You want to tell him… something. Something. You don't know, couldn't put it into words even if you could manage to control your mouth enough to speak. You might already be speaking. You’re not sure. His voice, though, you are sure about. It's a constant echo in your mind, and you can’t understand the words but at the same time you do. You understand. Safe, pretty, good, mate, mine. Yes, yes, yes. You’re his. Forever. 

Your heart is beating so fast. Your entire body is one big heartbeat, pulsing with every movement he makes. It’s almost scary - would be scary if you didn’t feel so fucking good and so completely, utterly safe. You're an imploding star, a burning, writhing, blissed-out thing that used to be a person and that may not ever be one again. You think you might be okay with that. 

God, are you coming or does it-

That thought is abruptly disintegrated when you do come. Your eyes roll back into your head, waves and waves of shimmering pleasure lighting up every nerve. On and on and on, it doesn’t stop. It doesn’t stop, and you’re sure now. This is you coming, and it isn’t fucking stopping. Someone is crying, and this shouldn’t actually be possible. It shouldn't be possible for a person to feel this way, and it isn’t fucking stopping, holy fuck. The wave swells in a way it never has before, cresting and cresting and cresting, and- oh. You’re crying. That's you. 

breathe, darling. got you, beautiful, mine, doing so good. breathe. that’s it, pretty girl

He’s comforting you, you think. What is there to comfort? There has never been anything that feels as good as this. You’re still coming and he’s still fucking you through it, and thank god, because if he stopped you might actually die. You reach for him, but he's already there. 

mine, mine, mine

You think you might be starting to come down from that insane high. The trembling seems permanent, but you can think a little, can take in more of what he's saying now even though it's a little slurred in your ears. 

“- got you. All mine, so pretty and perfect. Smell so fucking good, taking my cock like you were made for me, like the perfect mate. So good, pretty girl, you're doing so good. I love you so-”

He's happy with you. You're being good. You're good. You're good and safe and warm, and he's here, and this is where he belongs, always. Deep inside of you, fucking you, always, always, with his fingers in your mouth and his teeth in your shoulder. You can't separate pain from pleasure. It's all one swirling, overwhelming cacophony of sensation until you feel him release inside of you, coating your insides with his come, marking you as his in every way - and it does something to your brain. You think you really are talking now, thanking him, maybe, or just- fuck, you can't concentrate, you're so full. 

Part of you mourns, even through the thick haze of your mind, knowing that he will pull out of you soon. But you're surprised to find that he doesn't, that he only needs a few moments before he's hard and pumping into you again. More sweet, incomprehensible words fall on your ears like so many shooting stars, and time continues to warp, and oh, fuck, the wave is cresting again-

---

--

-

When you wake, the first thing you become aware of is the fact that you feel so unbelievably relaxed. The second thing is that Donnie is holding you, stroking your hair and speaking to you softly. 

You take a slow, deep breath, and his words stop, then start again. This time you push through the haze enough to actually listen. 

“You haven't stopped smiling,” he says, his own smile audible in his voice. 

His hand continues to brush through your hair, while the fingers of his other hand tap absent-mindedly against your thigh. It's nice. You bask in the feeling for a moment before you respond. 

“It was like… like you said. The way you feel now, during your season. I just felt really… connected to you. Safe. And happy.” You sigh, snuggling in closer. “And really, really good. I don't know why you were so worried I would hate it.”

His hands stop. Then start again. When he answers, you can't hear the smile anymore. “It's only like that when- when you're with the person you…” 

He trails off, and you wait for him to elaborate. He doesn't. The silence grows heavy. You pull back to look up at him, but he avoids your eyes, his lips thinning and his brows pinching together. You finish his sentence for him. 

“The person you love?”

His throat bobs when he swallows, and his tiny nod makes your chest ache. To think that - even after everything you've been through - he was still unsure. Worried that the pill would not only make you miserable, but also that it would confirm your true feelings. 

Or lack thereof. 

“Donnie,” you start, but he cuts you off with a kiss. Slow, gentle, and intimate. He kisses you until you forget how to breathe, and when he finally pulls away you have to take a few moments to remind yourself of what you were going to say. “You thought I wouldn't-”

“I was wrong to worry,” he says simply, cutting you off once more. “I know that now.”

You consider pushing further, but the pleasant fog that still clings to your mind makes it hard to think. You close your eyes and breathe, trying to focus past the memory of his lips on yours. It’s hard when his hands still trail through your hair. When you open them again, he’s still avoiding your gaze. 

“You know I love you. Right?”

His eyes finally meet your own, and you see something there. Something that’s too big to put a name to but that relaxes your concern nonetheless. He leans toward you to press a quick kiss to your forehead, and when he pulls back his lips have settled back into a soft smile. 

“I know, dearest. I know.” 

---

tag list: @yorshie @khayalli @thejudiciousneurotic @luckycharms1701 @mxalmighty @thelaundrybitch @justalotoffanfiction

#tmntspringshellebration #turtlecleric scrolls #rise!donnie #thank you again for proofing yorshie dear <3

[iambicpentameterhamster]

What's happened with Jackson's Diary lately?

If you don't read all of this, at least scroll to my point on Dexer as that's my main issue.

Please don't take this too seriously, its just my opinion and im very open to having my mind changed.

So season 1 JD had me absolutely hooked, I loved the drama and the characters. There was a lot of character development and tension with underlying notes of supernatural mystery and the artstyle was consistently good and it was just... good. It was really good.

Come mid-season 2, I think we actually start to see a significant dip in quality- the characters, in my opinion, kind of lose the edge they had in season 1.

Let me explain. In season 1, the characters feel like REAL people in the sense that they were simultaneously flawed and fun. They had redeeming traits that made them likeable enough to the reader, but they all had flaws that made them act in ways that drove the plot. For example, David was funny, loyal and outgoing, but he was overprotective, slow on the uptake and jumped to conclusions. Exer was also cool, sarcastic and funny at times, but he had some pretty obvious flaws that i won't bother listing off. Jackson was sweet and easygoing but far too trusting. Ronald was intimidating but independent and thought for himself, Brenda was generous and bubbly but prioritized popularity over true friendship, Pamela was kind but standoffish, etc. All of these characters had different dynamics with one another, they weren't all friends and they weren't consistently friends. It was these contrasting flaws and virtues and dynamics that DROVE THE PLOT. And did so brilliantly.

But by the time season 1 finished, JD had taken off and was a very popular comic with thousands and thousands of readers. And these readers had become attatched to a particular ship, Dexer, which i think might be one of the reasons for the decline in character individuality. Paola has some amazing ideas and she is clearly a very capable storywriter and is good at writing and developing characters, so i think both time pressure and pressure from the fanbase caused these problems.

Season 2 was essentially three things- Exer's redemption, one long Exer and David will-they-wont-they storyline, and Jackson being therapized by everyone around him.

Exer's redemption

First of all, Exer's redemption. I think the inversion of Jackson and Exers roles in the plot is INCREDIBLY clever, but to be honest i would have liked to see that translated differently- rather than have Exer do a complete 180 and transform into a perfect person, i would have liked to see him keep some of his snark, some of his trademark moody eyeroll attitude from season 1, but show him becoming a better person at his core. Currently, i feel like he's just way too NICE. It makes his dialogue less interesting to read and it makes me less invested in him as a character because now, instead of his actions being affected by his conflicting character traits, i know he will just try and do the right thing no matter what. Maybe thats ideal for real people in real life, but it makes for a less interesting story.

He's also lost most of his motives from season 1. These used to be 1. Liking Brenda, 2. Maintaining reputation, 3. Competing with jackson and 4. Dealing with his powers and keeping them a secret. These motives conflicted each other and made it so he never truly gets what he wants, but now he just sort of... does. He got David. He got jacksons forgiveness. His friends and dad know about the powers. Hes a better person. Feels sort of like he ended up on top, really.

I would love to see Exer faced with a decision that makes him choose between keeping David or his integrity, for example. That would be really interesting. I would love to see some of the characters fall out again because them all just being good, supportive friends just makes it quite boring and low stakes. Even Jackson, with his new power, just uses it to help Exer and David and doesn't seem to have any intention or motive to use it for something more nefarious than that. Making the diary move by itself is just a way of removing Jackson's autonomy in the matter when i would rather see him make a decision himself and be responsible for his own actions, as Exer was. I want a power shift from Exer to Jackson, not Exer to Jackson to the diary.

The problem with Dexer

Now for Dexer. I think this is a key sign that the characters are now more driven by the fanbase and their desires then by what actually drives the plot. Yes, they're cute together. But they had more chemistry in season 1 when they were characters with edge. And it seems like, David in particular, his other character traits and struggles have been completely forgotten and now his character is "poor gay boy/ Exers boyfriend". And David's reaction to the trauma of what happened to his dad is just that hes... sad? What if, for example, he went manic and kept himself constantly busy because his need to be liked by other people has been harmed by this experience? Acting irrationally or seeking distraction to cope? Or even just being ACTUALLY sad instead of looking kind of sad but still doing and saying all the right things so the fandom continue to like him. David used to have other personal problems outside of Exer, for example his need to be liked by others and for popularity, or his dad telling him his future relies on football because he isn't so great at school. Now it's all about his sexuality.

It just feels like Exer and David aren't individuals anymore and have morphed into a two headed being called "Dexer". It would be SO much more satisfying to watch them get together as they were in season 1, with Exer's cynical, sarcastic and broody remarks contrasting David's endlessly sunny and optimistic personality, gullible and airheaded humour.

Some of my favourite interactions in the whole comic are between Exer and David in season one. Like:

Jackson: "Hey, is that Meryl Streep?"

Exer: "Seriously, do you think we're idiots or something?-"

David: *letting go* "Where?"

Or David constantly calling Jackson "Jacob" in early episodes, or him being totally oblivious to Exers dislike of Jackson or his crush on Brenda and enthusiastically trying to help with what he misinterprets to be reality, or slipping up about liking guys in really funny ways, Exers dramatic "After all we've been through?" And all of the funny misunderstandings and coincidences in season 1... small but entertaining things that made the characters who they were. THESE are the characters i wanted to get together. Not the ernest, well intentioned and flawless people they are now. They don't complement each other any more because they have the same basic values and traits. Like, where did Himbo David go? Where did broody Exer go?

And may i just mention, the OTHER characters have also been done absolutely dirty by this. Brenda is barely part of the plot anymore aside from helping Exer and David, same for Ronald. Brenda's thing with Ken might just save her character and has already introduced some quite funny moments, but throughout season 2 Brenda did not have any motives or development of her own outside of Exer and David (and occasionally Jackson)

Ronald had none of his funny moments, really, either. He was just David's emotional support russian. Maybe all of the character dynamics were hurt by the fact that most of the characters are all friends with each other with zero conflict except between Exer and Jackson.

Basically as the fanbase started to revolve around Dexer, the story actually seemed to mirror this. I don't blame Paola, she was giving the people what they wanted to see.

Therapized Jackson

I hate to break it to you, but real life people are self absorbed. People, especially young people, can be clueless and tactless and don't always say the right thing. When this is reflected in fictional characters, it can lead to interesting and tense scenes and character growth.

The detention kids, however, seem pretty damn perfect friends. They're always there, right time right place, and say all the right thinks to make Jackie feel better. They don't seem to have problems of their own that get in the way of their ability to constantly support Jackson, nor do they have any apparent reason for their devotion to Jackson. I mean, do they have endless time? How are they always free to help him out? Do they just wait around until he needs them? Seems kind of like they're in it for the Exer drama.

I know Jackson healing is important, but i think some of it should be internal, because realistically, who is going to have these zero-maintinance friends who follow you around giving you life advice?

Despite this, i still like them as characters and i think they have good comedy potential. They just need motives of their own and to slip up sometimes, or talk about something other than Jacksons mental health. The main characters have also fallen into doing this since making up with Jackson.

That's another thing, actually; in season 1, the characters bonded and talked about things other then whats currently happening in the plot. Now they just give each other advice and constantly talk about Jackson and David and Exer and literally nothing else, its tiring.

Anyway end of rant i haven't proof read this and i love you paola you're brilliant season 1 is a masterpiece

#david miller #brenda miller #exer campbell #jackson smith #jacksons diary #webtoon

[siilvan]

fortuna redux

characters (ocs): mylène "petra" scholten de ridder, freya "mini" mactavish

summary: the medic of the 141 suddenly becomes two.

genre: general, fluff, light angst?, fem!oc

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, mentions of canon-typical violence, mild descriptions of blood/injuries, mildly superstitious stuff, they're so sister-coded...

word count: 3k

note: “but navi we want bloodsport” i know babygirls, it’s gonna be my next post 😔 i just need to be cringe with my oc first…

also big shoutout to @sofasoap for giving me the much-needed confidence to write this AND for trusting me with her beloved mini 😌 this is going to get zero notes, but idc, i wrote it for fun lol

you let out a soft breath as you sift through documents, analyzing dossiers and combat records until your eyes burn and beg for a break. it's the season of new recruits, which means late nights, early mornings, and headaches for yourself. why did you offer to train them when price asked?

probably because ghost has a track record of sending new faces running for the hills. as the one-four-one's only other commanding officer, you're the only one fit for the job. fantastic.

after a much needed break – that consisted of you laying back in your chair with a damp cloth over your eyes – you grab the next document off the pile on your desk and scan it like you did with every other. you stop short before you even finish reading the name at the top, though.

freya mactavish.

surely, it can't be...

you flip through the pages of the dossier, blinking at the information that only served to confirm your suspicions. scottish, twenty-two years old, combat medic, has an older brother in the special forces...

"no fucking way." you mumble, staring at the picture attached to the file. you recognize her from pictures that soap's shown you over the years – she is, without a doubt, the "mini" he's told you so much about. why haven't you heard about the transfer request until now?

when you come across the combat records, the reason is glaringly clear. she hardly passed on all fronts; if she was any other recruit, this file wouldn't have even made it to your desk. she can't match the rest of the team in the field, you'd all end up slowing down to accommodate her. it's nothing that can't be fixed with dedicated training, but with how precious the task force's time is, you simply don't have the time to bring new recruits up to speed.

with a quiet groan, you push back from your desk and gather up the files on her, heading out the door and padding down the hall towards price's office.

you round the corner and spot him unlocking the door, his back facing you.

"captain!" you call out from down the corridor, catching his attention. price turns to look at you, pausing with the door held open as you approach.

"you're up early, petra." he comments, reminding you to glance at the time. five am— shit, you spent the whole night pouring over those files. "got something for me?" he continues, pulling your focus back to him.

you nod, waving the document folder at him. "i've got some questions about one of these recruits."

his eyes flick between you and the folder, before a low chuckle escapes him. "think i might know who you're talking about." he mutters, motioning for you to follow him into his office.

he shuts the door behind you and clicks the lock shut before circling around his desk and settling in his chair. you sit across from him and lay the files out, starting when he nods for you to speak.

"i'm assuming you've connected the dots between the surnames?" you ask, earning an affirmative hum. "you've known soap longer than i have, so maybe this makes sense to you, but—" you flip through the pages of the dossier and slide it towards him, pointing out the large boxes of redacted information with two companies logos plastered at the top of the page. "—i can understand mi6's involvement with this, but what does the cia want with a low-ranking british soldier?"

price leans back in his chair and drags his eyes from the document to you. "it's a long story." he shrugs, pulling a frustrated huff from you.

"come on, price, don't give me that." you reply, shaking your head. "soap's never mentioned anything like this. is there something i need to be worried about if we recruit her?"

his tongue darts out and wets his lips as he lets out a noise, somewhere between a groan and a sigh. "even i don't have all the information, scholten. all i know is that she's damn good at what she does." he sits up straight and thumbs through the dossier, glancing over it like he's already familiar with the contents. he probably is.

"you've been tripling as this team's commander, medic, and medical intelligence expert since its formation. you've already got ghost and myself to handle most of the leadership, but you need someone to help with the rest." he asserts, unclipping the picture from the rest of the stack and holding it up to face you. "you need the assistance and she's reliable. trust me on this."

you blink at the photo, then at him. "she barely passed any of the physical tests – even her marksmanship scores were average at best. there's other medics with better scores, captain. i know we cherish family on this team, but i'm not willing to send someone unequipped onto the battlefield."

price sets the picture down and sighs, low and heavy in his chest. "did you see what she's called?" he asks.

you furrow your brows at him. "something like... what was it, 'lady fortuna?' what does that have to do with this?"

"lady luck, lieutenant. she doesn't look like much on paper, but whenever she's in the field, people always come back. the only person that serves to suffer when she's working is herself." he smiles as a noise of confusion tumbles from your lips.

"never pegged you as the superstitious type," you start, squeezing your eyes shut and pinching the bridge of your nose. "that isn't reassuring, anyway. i can't risk having a soldier, especially family, die under my watch, even if it means the rest of the team makes it home unscathed."

price places a firm hand on your shoulder, jostling you and forcing you to look at him again. "it's your refusal to let her die that'll keep her alive." he mutters, and the plan in his mind finally clicks with you.

she'll keep you from working yourself to death. you'll keep her from dying in her work.

a mutual safety net.

price, you clever bastard.

"you were never going to let me say 'no,' were you?" you cock your head to the side, slumping back in your chair.

he shrugs, mirroring your position and producing a cigar from one of his pockets. "i always respect your judgement." he lights it and places it between his lips. you move to gather the documents and stand, before he snaps his fingers, remembering something. "a transport just picked her up, by the way. she'll be here in a few hours."

you pause mid-action and glower at him. "guess i should get started on the training schedule, then."

⋆⋆⋆

"corporal freya mactavish, reporting for duty, ma'am."

you eye the younger woman curiously, noticing the way she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, shrinking a bit under your scrutiny.

bright blue eyes, just like her brother. she's a few inches shorter than yourself, about five-four according to her files, and you feel yourself soften a bit at the glimmer in her eyes – a soldier desperately wanting to be acknowledged. again, it reminds you of soap.

"so, you're the new recruit?" you regard her with a gentle smile in an attempt to ease her nerves. when she visibly relaxes from her stiff stance, you turn to price. "i'll take care of her, captain."

price uncrosses his arms and chuckles. "don't be so quick to write her off, petra. who knows, she might end up surprising you." he says, tapping your arm and giving mini an encouraging nod, before walking out of the room and leaving the two of you alone.

you turn back to her and rest your hands on your hips, silently studying her again. you don't miss the puff of her chest under her vest when she inhales deeply and opens her mouth to speak.

"you can call me mini, lieutenant," she utters, the stiffness from earlier returning, her shoulders locking up as she stands more straight. "i know i'm not much of a soldier, but..." she trails off, her gaze flitting from yours to the empty space between you.

your brows furrow as you tilt forward. "but?" you repeat, urging her to continue.

she drags her focus back to your face, but still avoids looking directly into your eyes. "my brother's told me a lot of stories about you, and... i swear, i won't disappoint you."

she's sheepish, hands flexing as she confirms her statement, and you almost let the pity you feel flash across your face. she's so similar, yet so different from her brother. every word is said like she has something to prove; to you or herself, you're not sure.

"we'll have to swap stories sometime," you start, stepping closer to place your hands on her shoulders. "soap's always going on about you, he's very proud." you assure her with a gentle squeeze. mini rolls her eyes at it, but smiles nonetheless.

"i hope he hasn't mentioned any embarrassing childhood stories..." she mutters.

you pull back, recalling the many stories the sergeant's told about his family since joining the squad. "just a few. we can share those later, we've got a busy day ahead of us."

⋆⋆⋆

you had hoped the combat records would be out of date, but to your chagrin, they reflected mini's performance well.

her shots are hitting the target... most of the time, at least. you've had to correct her stance and grip more than once, give her several basic tips— so now, you're standing behind her, eyeing the target over her shoulder, your fingers twitching at your sides as you watch her form slip again. before you can correct it, however, she pauses and shifts, fixing her posture and adjusting her grip on her rifle.

it's been three hours, but she's showing some improvement, you think to yourself, the edges of your lips twitching up.

mini lowers her gun after emptying another clip and lifts the headphones from her ears, turning to you. "what do you think?" she asks, searching your face for approval.

you take off your own headphones and step closer, squinting at the target. most of the bullet holes lie around the edges, near misses, or scattered around the torso of the silhouette. there's a handful of headshots, but for three hours of work, it isn't enough.

"you're getting better," you sigh, facing her once more. her face drops and you rub the side of her arm in a small attempt at comfort. "you just need more practice, is all. that's why i'm here."

she huffs and shakes her head, setting her rifle on the counter. "you're supposed to be leading me in the infirmary and the field, not holding my hand through the basics, lieutenant." she complains in a low grumble, crossing her arms tight over her chest. your eyes narrow as your hand drops back to your side; you know her frustration lies with her performance, not you.

mini trails close behind your right shoulder, listening intently as you rattle off the list of activities for the day. basic marksmanship, physical tests, close-quarters combat... things that the rookies even younger than her are working on.

"you aren't going to be seeing as much action as the boys or myself, but you still need to be capable enough to defend yourself if necessary." you say, stopping in front of the door to the shooting range.

she hums, standing in front of you. "i know i'm not as skilled as the rest of you, but i can hold my own." she replies, furrowing her brow.

"i'm not clearing you for duty until you show some major improvement." you assert. her eyes widen, pupils turning into small saucers, before the crease in her forehead returns.

"lieutenant, you can’t—"

"i can," you state, perhaps a bit too stern, as the rest of her rebuttal immediately dies on her tongue. "price put you under my watch for a reason. i can't in good conscience send you out underprepared." you continue, softening to a low murmur.

mini merely stares at you, the gears turning in her head. after several seconds of this, finally, she relents with a barely-audible exhale.

"let's do this, then."

the sound of an irritated groan brings you back to the moment. you look just in time to see mini lean back against a nearby wall, her head tilting back and knocking lightly against the surface. she shuts her eyes and breathes in deeply, prompting you to go quiet as she steadies herself.

once her eyelids flutter open again, you speak. "let's take a break, yeah?" you give her a tight-lipped smile. "we can worry about the physical and close-combat tests later. we have plenty of time."

mini eyes you for a few seconds, deep blue irises swimming with about a hundred different emotions, cascading across the surface like waves crashing against jagged rocks during a storm. you've never seen so much conflict in soap, even in his worst times – whatever she's feeling clearly goes deeper than irritation over slow progress.

"how about we hang out? get to know each other a bit?" you suggest, brushing past the observation.

she seems to ease up at your words, her fingers interlacing in front of herself as she silently considers a response. a short, yet eager, nod of her head brings a more genuine smile to your lips.

you find yourself comfortably settled in on one of the worn couches in the common room after cleaning up the range, leaning back against the arm of the couch to face mini as you talk to her, mug of steaming tea in-hand.

"johnny's never been pleased with me following in his footsteps," she confesses after taking a healthy sip of her tea, her legs crossed under the blanket you haphazardly slung across your laps.

you hum, lowering your mug to rest atop your knee. "can't blame him. once you're in this field, you stop wanting your family close." you chuckle, before adding, "i wasn't particularly happy when my brother joined the forces, so i get where he's coming from."

mini grumbles into the rim of her cup and sends you a half-hearted glare. "i'm perfectly capable, though." she mutters, earning another curt laugh from you.

"i'm not saying you're not – even though there's still a lot to improve on – but, think about his perspective." you lean forward, motioning with your hands as you continue. "his little sister, who sounds very prone to injury and bad luck, going into such a dangerous line of work? i'm surprised he doesn't have you attached to his keychain."

you both pause, waiting to see who concedes in the argument first, before another thought crosses your mind. "speaking of luck," you start, catching the raised brow she sends your way. "ever since i read your files, i keep hearing about this whole 'lady fortuna' thing. even the captain's pretty convinced you're lucky."

another beat of silence passes as you both sip on your tea. you eye mini curiously as her eyes dart anywhere but your face, avoidant, but not nervous by any means.

"i don't want to sound like i'm bragging, especially in front of you," she trails off, only perking up again once you dismiss her concerns with a wave of your hand. "i guess, uh... i've been told that i've got this knack for bringing soldiers home unscathed, even on dangerous operations that should end with casualties. it's become something of an urban legend." she says, eyes settling on the steam rising from her cup.

"and yet, you are always getting injured. guess the luck comes at a price, huh?" you comment off-handedly.

her mug lightly clacking against the table nearby catches your focus, drawing you back to her as she wrings her hands together.

"when one person's fortune rises, another falls," she utters, looking focused as ever as the words leave her lips. "bearing misfortune is the cost of giving good fortune to those around me."

for a second, you almost think she's joking. harmless superstitions exist everywhere in life, but this is a new for you – not only is mini convinced of it, but even the captain believes it to some extent.

when her eyes drag up to meet your gaze, you feel a pang in your chest.

the zero-sum game. one party's advantage is equal to another's disadvantage. mini's misfortune is equal in value to the good fortune of those around her. what could possibly match the value of saving lives, though?

death isn't the opposite reaction; to lose the fortune entirely is a worse fate. suffering is a fate worse than death for the benefactor— it's perpetual, iterative, something that would stick around for the rest of her life. save a life and have your own ruined, it's an equal trade. you set your cup aside and reach forward to wrap your hands around hers, holding them in a loose grip.

"let's split the cost." you murmur.

mini blinks at you, confused. "what?"

you squeeze her hands gently, warming when she mirrors it. "there's no sense in one person bearing the world's misfortune alone. i'll carry some of it and you'll save some of that luck for yourself."

she shakes her head and retracts her hands, sitting up straight and leaving you leaning forward. "i don't think that's how it works, lieutenant. it's not something you can just give or take." she stutters out, stifling a nervous chuckle.

"it works that way if we say it does. you can give out as much luck as you need and we'll bear the burden of it together." you take another sip of your tea and let out a low sigh. "i won't take 'no' for an answer, from you or from fate." you add a moment later.

mini giggles, finally giving in with an affirmative nod and a "yes ma'am" escaping her amidst the giggles.

you don't believe in superstitions about luck or fate. the choices a person makes is what defines them, not a third party pulling the strings. however, if it'll bring her some comfort, then you're happy to bear whatever misfortune you can. at the end of the day, keeping your team safe is more important than shallow beliefs.

as a bright grin crosses her face, you make a silent vow with yourself.

you won't let her suffer.

whatever it takes, you'll bring her home safe.

#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #mw2 #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #cod fic #cod fanfiction #cod original character #cod oc #cod ocs #task force 141 #tf 141 #mylène “petra” scholten de ridder #freya “mini” mactavish #sylph.writes

[twinkodium]

Okay I actually am very proud of Carlos and I’m happy for all the Carlando girlies BUT PLS someone needs to write an angsty Landoscar fic about this weekend, like

Newly established Landoscar, maybe they started dating this season and they’re just so in love okay like Lando knows Oscar’s it for him and vice versa but they haven’t confessed that to each other because they’re both afraid it would scare the other one off

Backstory is that Lando used to have a crush on Carlos but Carlos never reciprocated, and Lando realized it was more of a hero crush than anything serious. Anyway Oscar knows about this and is unbothered because he trusts Lando (and is just an unbothered king in general)

But then Singapore happens and Lando gets so caught up in the podium and the champagne and next thing you know he is absolutely blatantly flirting with Carlos without even realizing it (he’s just lost in the celebration of it all) and Oscar walks in on them hugging and looking wayyyy too intimate

Anyway cue the angst

Cue Lando being like “FUCK what have I done” and panicking so hard because he loves Oscar

Cue Oscar thinking Lando finally got the man he always wanted (Carlos) so he doesn’t need him anymore

Cue Lando going to Max for help and Max just being like “YOU ARE AN IDIOT” but of course helps Lando try to get Oscar back

Anyway this angst fest should end happily because Landoscar is endgame in all universes but yeah yeah can any of the authors in Landoscar nation write this? I would tag them all if I could but I don’t know all of them

HOLD ON ANON! ARE YOU A MINDREADER??? YOUR TIME IS ACTUALLY IMPECCABLE!

I was literally ranting to a friend about a story I might write along these lines!!! (I’m a slow writer and it’d take me a year to finish so I’m going to tag some fanfic writers I follow here and I know are into the ship). Where they would not be dating already but like pinning for each other HARD, I mean Oscar is literally eyefucking Lando in every opportunity he gets but Lando is completely oblivious but of course having a crush too 👀 AAND Singapore happens, Oscar is witnessing the Carlando moment and turning into a sad puppy who has been kicked to the curb and thinking he lost his chance to get together with Lando and it turns all angst and shit but with a HAPPY END. My brainstorm moment stopped here tho HAHA

BUT WHAT YOU’VE JUST WROTE HOLY SHIT!!! WELL THOUGHT, WONDERFUL GENIUS IDEA and I’M SCREAMING RN SO HARD!! Love how much Max gets involved in the Mctwinks fanfics lately, literally the bestest friends to Lando who could kick his ass to next Friday, yet will do his best and helps him in whatever trouble he has 🥺

I really HOPE so someone will write this, SO here comes the tags:

@laceyamethyst - No secret that The mission universe series is my all time favorite and recommending it to anyone who loves the two js and Lestappen! Amazing writing style and could be the person turning this into a MASTERPIECE

@nyoomfruits - have read some of her fanfics, they’re very special to me! Also the one shot asks thingies?? I’M IN LOVE!!!

@landoom - the way we both rant on dash whenever there is new Mctwinks content could be embarrassing to the outside world 😂 the last two Mctwinks fic made made me burst out laughing, she’s wonderful.

@eisenberg - as I’ve noticed, mostly writes AUs, and I admit they’re still sitting on my reading list I just don’t have the time 😩

@wtfisformula1 - just posted a Landoscar fanfic, soooo could be an option too 😌

PLS tag more authors you guys know and would be up for the challenge to turn this into a cute fanfic 🥰

#asks #anon #f1 fanfic #I did not expect to get an ask like this but omg 😭 #I’m so happy!!! #wish I have time and to write this tho 😩 #mctwinks #lando&oscar

[minty-bubblegum]

My requests are open!! ><

Small introduction

Hiii! I'm minty-bubblegum, and you may refer to me as the following (which ever form you're comfortable with): minty; mint; Lilypad; and moots may call me whatever they please :3. (Also, I'm going to call my followers special names mwahaha >:3)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I am an artist and writer, and I'm willing to take requests for both fanart and writing. I am still somewhat new to tumblr and figuring things out, but I understand the basics ^^;.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Rules, fandoms, etc.

For art requests, I will do any content except anything that I deem pornographic. I'm also not really that good at drawing such things in the first place; for I enjoy drawing cutesy things the most. So, maybe don't request anything that's NSFW at all. Trust me, I tried to draw guts one time and they looked like worms 😭

For writing requests, I am open to everything. I am more willing with writing for personal reasons, so yes I am open to NSFW with kinks and fetishes; just please, PLEASE no feet! 😥(unless we're talking about my little blorbos, then that's a different story >:D) ALSO, writing formats. Headcannons, scenarios, etc. etc. All are welcome. I will not write NSFW for minor characters. Any relationship is platonic unless the character is aged up.

Also, once I actually start writing some real stuff, I may make an AO3 account and cross-post from there. :P

ALSO also, asks. They are open and we can brainrot together, or just talk about whatever. Please, I think it would be funny and I promise I'm friendly :).

Another thing; please be very specific on what you want. I tend to go into depressive states and have no motivation, and if it's too broad I may struggle to finish it 😭. And school is starting, so I might be slow.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

FINALLY, we get to what I'll be taking requests for. I'm a gal who loves the internet, so this is gonna be a few :3.

Twisted Wonderland (All characters are automatically aged up typically, unless stated to be in a certian time.)

Black Butler (I am still relatively new to this.)

Ensemble Stars (I don't know much about any of the lore and I don't really play events either. I only play for my babygirls and the banger songs.)

Bungo Stray Dogs (I haven't watched any of the latest seasons I'm trying to catch up. 🙏)

South Park (I've watched literally everything. Also, only SFW unless they are explicitly stated to be an adult [16+] or aged up to a certain age, as stated previously.)

Bands I like >:D (This one is weird, I know. It's just. I've had some funny ideas idk man ;-;)

And if people ever want to, you may request for some of my own personal characters :3.

Thanks for reading!

~ Signing off, yours truly.

P.S. @busycloudy you get VIP benefits. I will not elaborate on that, it's up to you to decide what it means.

#my requests are open #how do i tag this #how do i use tumblr #this is pretty silly man #long post #why did i write so much #Should i tag this with the fandoms i listed #nah #i only have two friends #feeling abnormal rn #Lilypad writes #Lilypad draws

[quitereal]

thoughts on the Ark season 1, there will be spoilers, it will be long

I’m gonna start by saying I like it. It’s a bit campy, the science is not all there, there’s some stuff that bugs me, but overall, I like the show, I’m gonna watch season 2. 

I do hope they get a writer with a basic understanding of science for season 2 though, because even if the sci fi rule is “it only needs to sound legit” I don’t feel like this passed the bar? I’m sorry, treating an FTL drive like a USB you can just plug and play from ship to ship is just... not it. And they did have the temporal problems but even the solution for that was not great, in my opinion. I need the crew to be more competent too, there’s just too many instances where it feels like they got screwed because they didn’t bother to test something before trying to use it in the field. For instance, the FTL bubble shield. They literally pulled a mutiny on the basis that the shield was going to protect them, and they didn’t even turn it on once before they needed to use it? Like you’d test a used car more than that before you’d buy it, and yet we have a ship full of supposed experts who didn’t think to test it ONCE before counting on it to save their lives.

The biggest thing I want, though, is for them to make the villains LESS INSANELY EVIL for no actual reason. Seriously, the human race is dying out and instead of just threatening the other Arks (which are carrying some of humanity’s best and brightest) to get into line and follow her lead, Maddox just destroys two thirds of humanity on the off-chance she might kill Trust along with them? I need a real explanation for why they hate one another so much, because two people who are supposed to be the smartest humans in existence should be able to get past it in order to save humanity. I know the point is like “people like them are the reason we were wiped out” and they want Garnet and the others to show there’s a better way, but I just need their evil to make some small amount of sense.

As for ships... I’m all in for the slow-burn, enemies to lovers with Garnet & Lane. They have chemistry, the actors are both great, I really like that Garnet has a second in command who doesn’t just agree with her or trust her blindly, I love the mutual respect they seem to have established. Looking forward to seeing some consequences of a Captain/Subordinate relationship, really hoping they don’t do a Janeway and make it so Garnet can’t have a relationship with anyone now that she’s the Captain. 

I really like Brice & Ava as individual characters, and I do ship it, but I wish it had gone a bit more slowly? All for them jumping into bed right away, it’s in character for Brice and I feel like Ava needed it too, but they went straight in for a committed relationship a lot faster than I would’ve liked. Ava’s boyfriend literally just died what, a few months ago? So while I could see her jumping into bed with Brice, her admitting that she’s fallen for Brice so quickly really struck me as forced. Coupled with the fact that she really betrayed Brice in a very bad way --like, she didn’t JUST drug him, she had sex with him THEN drugged him-- I don’t think he should’ve forgiven her so easily? It really strikes me as a violation of trust, if nothing else, and I wanted them to hash it out more, build the trust back before they admitted their feelings. But seeing the ending, I get that they wanted to finish the season with a very much in-love couple so they could tease Ava’s death as a high stakes cliffhanger, but I feel like this diminished the whole ship. That said, they totally give me B’Ellana & Tom vibes (sorry for all the Voyager references, if you haven’t watched it, you SHOULD) and I love them for that, so I really hope that Ava isn’t dead and that in Season 2 we’ll get to see the consequences of them getting together so quickly, maybe have some trust issues from Brice come up, basically, I want some more angst over here.

Alicia and Angus really don’t do a thing for me. It might just be that they seem so young, or that the idea that the nerds have to fall in love is boring to me, but I don’t see the chemistry. I do like the character development we’ve seen so far; Alicia coming from someone who was smart, but obedient, to someone who will disobey orders she doesn’t believe in and can think outside the box to save the day, I hope to see her become a really strong character. As for Angus, I’m glad at the end that they seemed to hint that he has some lasting trauma from his experience with Kelly; if they just write off his being kidnapped and sexually harassed by her I’ll be pretty disappointed. I’m not mad they didn’t get into it more, there wasn’t time for them to do it justice and I really want this to be well-handled, but we need to see Angus getting to process what happened to him.

I love Felix, but honestly, I cannot understand why they gave a white man a samurai sword. Swords in space are cool, but if you want a samurai in space, they should be Japanese. Like this isn’t hard guys, basic diversity 101. That said, I love that Felix is a gay man who isn’t effete or any other stereotypes, I love that he’s the character that has a child he’s been separated from and feels guilt for it, although it does bother me how abruptly they killed off Robert. I’m really hopeful that they have something more interesting in mind with Katherine, since we don’t know what happened to her yet. I’m hoping they do something with time travel here, because I don’t really want them to bring an eight year old onto the ship, but I definitely want more family-angst for Felix.

Kabir is a fantastic character, in my opinion. I love her relationships with literally everybody, how Felix helped her with her addiction --and how the addiction is being shown as an ongoing thing, not just a one and done issue-- and Cat betrayed her trust later on. I like that she’s a mentor-figure for Alicia, and just a confidante for everyone. She’s the character that’s everybody’s best friend, and honestly I can’t even hate her for it. It would be so easy to have had her be the perfect maternal role, but they threw in the addiction and it really fleshed her out, in my opinion.

I really hope they stay completely away from anything further with Cat & Trust, to be honest. I like Cat, I find her really interesting and compelling and I love that she lets people think she’s just a vapid celebrity when in actuality she has depths that she hides under that blonde wig. I don’t like Trust, but I realize we’re not supposed to like him. I do want them to get more into what exactly the “Juno Project” is all about, it honestly sounds pretty eugenics-y so I’m hoping they’re real careful with this.

Honestly, the show’s got a lot of potential from here. The characters all have room for growth, the ships have room to go places, they set up some hooks for future plots and I’m very hopeful. It really reminds me a lot of other sci fi shows, like Star Trek: Voyager (as evidenced by my references) but also Stargate: Universe and I just love the vibe of it. This got real long, I won’t blame anyone if they don’t want to read all my thoughts, but I don’t have anyone to talk to about this show so I just wanted to get them all out while they were fresh. I’m really looking forward to season 2, and so grateful they already announced it’s renewed.

#this is just a lot of thoughts honestly

[purple--queen]

Is this my sweater?

Summary: Clint is wearing one of Marcs sweaters. It does things to him.

Note: soft Marc. cute Clint. it’s just fluff. it could have smut...but i don’t write it 

Pairing: Clint Barton/ Marc Spector

Warning: no warnings. its just cute & soft.

His heart stops for a second and then starts pounding in his chest as if it about to jump out and run to Clint. "Is that my sweater?" Marc asks, hating how soft it sounds. If Khonshu were here, he would have mocked him for it. Clint puts the takeaway on the kitchen counter and has a grin on his face. "Yes-" he begins to say. "You forgot it the last time you where at my apartment." It's a dark blue sweater that's faded and worn out. Marc doesn't know why he still has it and hasn't thrown it away long ago.

But now he's glad he never threw it away.

Clint looks incredibly comfortable in it. It gives him a softness that overwhelms Marc. It's not like Marc hasn't seen this site before. As of that point, he's sure he's seen every side of Clint. It doesn't matter how bright or dark that side seems to be. Marc sometimes feels like he knows Clint better than he knows himself.

Khonshu constantly scoffs at this.

But Marc can't escape the attraction of Clint. He feels like a planet revolving around the sun and now dependent on it. "I can take it off if you want-" Clint begins to say, slightly uncertain. Apparently he misinterpreted Marc's silence. "No," Marc interrupts and stands in front of Clint. "I know you don't like to share your stuff, and if it upsets you-"

Marc kisses him.

It's partly to shut up Clint and partly because he wants to feel all that softness. His hands cup Clint's face. Clint's hands first wander around, confused by the sudden action, before they come to rest on his hips. "I have no problem with that," Marc says as he breaks the kiss and looks into Clint's blue-gray eyes. "Good to know," Clint smiles and steals another kiss.

Marc drops his hands and then grabs Clint's hand. He pulls him towards the bedroom. "Wait, what about DogCops. Today is the season finale, we're finally going to find out what's going on with-". Marc kisses him again. It's a sweet demanding kiss that promises more. "I'm sure we can watch the replay."

He can see Clint going through all the options and just for a second, Marc feels offended by the fact that Clint might choose DogCops over him. "Okay," Clint grins and lets Marc pull him into the room.

•:•:•:•:•:•☾☽•:•.•:•.•:•

He never gets tired of seeing Clint like this.

Completely surrendered and satisfied.

And with this infinite trust.

His eyes are closed and a smile is on his lips, which Marc kisses. It's a tired and slow kiss. Sighing contentedly, Marc lets himself fall to the side. He is still half lying on top of Clint and wraps his arms around him. "Marc?" Clint asks and starts scratching Marc's head. His eyes close. "Mh," he says and snuggles even closer to Clint.

"I have a question. You don't have to answer it, but even if you don't say anything, you still answer." Clint babbles and Marc gives a smirk. Clint is so awkward with his words at times that it's a wonder when he gets to the point. "You can ask me anything, you know that," Marc replies and listens to Clint's heartbeat, which is slowly calming down. The hand in his hair falters briefly before continuing to stroke his curls.

"Did we just have sex because I'm wearing your sweater"

Marc blushes.

"Why would you think that?" Marc asks the counter question and presses his face into the fabric of the sweater. Clint lets out an amused laugh. "Well, for one, your reaction when you saw me. You seemed very...distracted". A kiss is planted on his hair. "And secondly, because I'm still wearing the sweater," Clint finishes, and Marc feels like his face is on fire.

"Don't make me say anything," Marc mumbles, somewhat embarrassed. Clint's laughter rings in his ears and dies down to a rumble in his chest. After that, Clint has the decency not to say anything more. They float in a bubble of stillness and togetherness, accompanied by the warmth of their bodies.*

#i can not get enogh of this ship #i love soft marc #moonhawk #Clint Barton/Marc Spector #purplewriting

[itsapeterthing]

Green || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

summary: three times bucky realized you were more than a friend and the one time he finally admitted it (based on events from tfatws)

a/n: finishing this in time for the season finale tomorrow! reblogs and/or replies are super appreciated!!

word count: 3.1k

warnings: mentions of reader wearing a short dress, jealous bucky

masterlist || request || taglist

#1

“Nice of you guys to call me.”

Your hands in your jacket pockets, you announced your presence as you strolled up to the group of four men standing outside of the police station. You could basically feel the tension in the air as each man had a resolute expression written on all over their faces.

“What’s going on here?” You asked, slipping your hands out of your pockets and gesturing towards the group.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked.

You might have been nicer about the situation if you weren’t utterly pissed that the two men hadn’t informed you about the mission that they had gone on.

“Incase you forgot, Sam, you’re not the only one who’s had to pick up where someone else left off. It’s my job to keep track of you guys.” You said. “... Also I’m Bucky’s emergency contact.”

“Well,” The blonde man leaning against the police cruiser said. “You’re a little late. I handled it.”

Looking up at the man in front of you, you gave him no inclination of defeat.

“You must be John Walker.” You said.

“So you’ve heard of me?” He smirked.

You crossed your arms, stepping away from the man who you had seen on television playing the role of Captain America. You had heard about the decision moments before the government had first displayed the impersonator on screen, but it had been too late for you to do anything about it or to inform Sam or Bucky in time for his appearance.

“I’ve heard of everyone.” You deadpanned.

“Yeah?” He asked, standing up straighter. “And who are you?”

Just as you were about to open your mouth, you felt Bucky’s hand land on your shoulder. Turning to glance at him, you watched as he shook his head, giving you a serious look. Despite the fact that you were now tasked with keeping track of the former members of the group of Avengers and were one yourself, you had been able to keep your identity a secret. Although to the world you were “Sorceress”- the Avenger with magical powers similar to those of Wanda Maximoff- to members of the team such as Bucky you were Y/n Y/l/n.

He didn’t trust John Walker and he didn’t want to bring you into their own mess. Although Bucky had been avoiding Sam’s text messages, Bucky had kept in constant touch with you since you first met him after he had come back from the Blip six months ago- even going as far as spending time together multiple times a week in person- not because you had to keep track of him, but because the two of you genuinely enjoyed spending time together. 

You were the closest thing he had to normalcy and he didn’t want the knockoff version of his best friend messing it up not only for himself, but for you too.

However, you didn’t see much of a way out of it. You weren’t going to just leave Bucky and Sam to handle the situation on their own, but you also didn’t see a way that you could work alongside them and not have John and Lemar figure out your identity sooner or later.

Gently taking Bucky’s hand off of your shoulder, squeezing it lightly before dropping it, you reached out your hand to John Walker.

“Y/n Y/l/n.” You told him. “Sorceress... and I guess the current caretaker of the Falcon and the Winter Soldier.”

Later, after the group had dispersed and you followed Sam and Bucky as they walked in the opposite direction, you were surprised when you heard Bucky’s tone of voice when he finally spoke up again.

“You shouldn’t have given him your name, Y/n.” He said.

You shrugged, hands tucked into your pockets once again. “It’s fine, Buck.” You assured him. “There wasn’t much else I could do. He was going to find out eventually-”

“Don’t act so casual about it. This is your identity- your life- and you’re just going to share it with some asshole like John Walker?”

“Woah!” You exclaimed, stopping in your spot. “What’s your problem, Buck? Why do you care so much?”

Noticing how both you and Sam were staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to comprehend why he was making such a “big deal” about it, Bucky grew embarrassed, not understanding himself why he cared so much. Rather than admitting defeat however, Bucky threw up his hands, scoffing.

“Forget it, Y/n. I don’t care. Do what you want.”

And with that he picked up the pace, walking in the opposite direction of where you and Sam stood confused in your spots.

#2

“I couldn’t have worn something- I don’t know- a bit longer?” You called to the three men ahead of you, following them into the club as you tugged on the hem of your short dress.

“This a club in Madripoor, Y/n.” You heard Zemo say. “If you wore anything else you would be giving us away.”

Groaning you steadied yourself in your heels following behind Zemo and Sam. You slowed your pace to walk besides Bucky who had insisted on being at the back of the line behind you- telling everyone that it would be safer for everyone if he kept their backs covered.

“How are you feeling?” You asked as quietly as you could in the loud club.

“What?” He asked.

“How are you feeling? With the while Winter Soldier thing? If you don’t think you can handle it we can find another way-”

“It’s fine, Y/n.” He said. “Don’t worry about me.”

Instead of letting it go, you gently placed your hand on his exposed, vibranium arm, causing him to stop in his spot, looking at you.

“Bucky, I’m serious.” You said. “You matter too. If you can’t handle it, I’ll find a way to get the information without all of this, okay? I care about you, Buck. Just say the word.”

He almost couldn't focus on the words coming out of your mouth as he tried to keep his eyes focused on your face, rather than trailing down your body, finally noticing just how short the dress that was adorning your body was. As good as you looked in green, he swore he would kill Zemo once he got what he needed from him for dressing you in that.

As gorgeous as you were, however, your words meant everything to him and he hung on to every single one- no matter what you were saying. Hearing the sentiment that you had for him and that you would stick your neck out for him of all people made him speechless.

Just as he was about to open his mouth however, the two of you began to feel the eyes of other partygoers staring the two of you down. As soon as you noticed, you quickly snatched your hand away from his arm and continued your pace in front of him, Bucky quickly following behind.

“Distracted?” Zemo asked as Bucky stopped beside him at the bar.

Rather than answering, Bucky remained silent, falling into character with the thought of your shared interaction still playing over and over in his mind.

#3

Coughing on his hands and knees, trying to process what had just happened, all Bucky could hear was the obnoxious sound of the alarm blaring. When he opened his eyes again he saw the shipping container now consumed with flames and illuminated with a daunting red light. Recalling what had just occurred, he scrambled to his feet, calling out for you.

“Y/n?” He called. “Y/n!”

When he didn't immediately hear your voice, he began to feel his heart race in his chest. What if something happened to you? What if you were too close to the explosion? He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if something had happened to you. Just as he was beginning to start hyperventilating, the smoke catching in his chest causing him to double over and heave, he felt your hands wrap around either of his biceps.

“Buck?” You asked. “I’m- I’m so sorry. It happened so fast I couldn’t get a forcefield around everyone. Thank God you’re okay. I was so afraid something happened-”

Cutting you off, Bucky shook your hands off of his arms, instead pulling you into his arms. Although you and the super soldier had spent more quality time than you could count together prior to starting this mission, you had never hugged before, but being in his arms you couldn’t find a single complaint, instead silently wrapping your arms tightly around his torso, running your hands up and down his back.

“Hey it’s okay, Buck. I’m okay.” You said. “Let’s go, okay? Before this thing collapses on us.”

After that the two of you had followed Sam and Sharon into the area of shipping containers, taking out hitman by hitman along the way, when you had finally gotten through all of them, you watched as Zemo pulled up in a car besides the four of you.

“Nice ride.” You said as Bucky slipped into the front seat of the vehicle, yourself sliding into one of the seats in the back row.

“Thank you, Y/n.” Zemo replied, patting Bucky on the chest. “She’s a woman of taste.”

Bucky swore to himself for the second time within the past 12 hours that when given the chance he was going to kill the man beside him- with or without his therapist’s approval.

“You’re not going to move your seat up are you?” Sam asked.

“Nope.” Bucky said.

“That’s fine.” Sam conceded. “I guess I’ll just chill back here with Y/n.”

You laughed as Sam laid his arm against headrest of the backseats of the car.

“I’m fine with that.” You said. “Just me and my favorite person.”

Now Bucky knew that you were kidding, only teasing him to get a rise out of him, but glancing at the backseat and seeing Sam’s arm practically around your shoulders and you calling him your favorite person... just didn’t sit right with Bucky. Just as Zemo’s foot was about to hit the gas, Bucky shifted the car into park, swinging the door open and stepping out of the vehicle.

“What-”

“You can have the front.” Bucky said, swinging Sam’s door open.

“It’s really okay, Buck-”

“You said you wanted more space so you can have the front.” He said. “Go sit in the front.”

You watched as Sam turned to you, quirking his eyebrows before shrugging and stepping out of the car, switching to the passenger seat. You almost wanted to laugh as you watched Bucky squeeze into the backseat behind the passenger seat, his knees practically up against his chest.

“You good?” You asked.

Despite the groan that had involuntarily escaped his mouth from the discomfort of the front seat digging into his knees, Bucky nodded, stretching his arm out across the backseat, behind your shoulders.

“I’m great.” He assured you. “Now drive, Zemo.”

Although you didn’t catch it, the two men sitting in the front seat- despite their differences- couldn’t help but throw each other a knowing look before the car took off for their next destination.

#4

“Hey!” Torres called. “I see you got your sleeve back!”

You chuckled as you turned to glance at the man stood beside you. Despite it being a joke, not a single hint of a smile cracked the man’s hard exterior. The only reason he didn’t walk out of the room on the spot was because you were standing beside him.

“He’s just in a bad mood today.” You said, reaching your hand out to shake Torres’. “I’m Y/n.”

Taking your hand and shaking it in his, he furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you doing hanging around these guys?” He asked. “...Not that you can’t handle yourself! Sam just won’t even invite me on these things.”

Pulling your hand away from his, you smiled. “Think you can keep a secret?”

As soon as you asked the question you watched as the confusion written all over his face grew even more and you could hear Sam chuckling in the background.

“I’m Sorceress.” You said. “Like the Avenger? I just try to keep my identity pretty secret, you know?”

As soon as you revealed your identity to him, you watched as the man’s face dropped and he turned to look at Sam who was standing behind him.

“Wait- she’s-” Torres stuttered.

Sam nodded, laughing.

“Yep.” Sam said. “She’s the one you’ve been hounding me about setting you up with.”

Although you weren’t paying attention to him, Bucky had already disliked how the conversation was going- finding Torres to be a little too friendly for his liking and not loving that you exposed your identity to him immediately- but when he heard Sam’s confession, he stiffened in his spot, hands balling into fists at his side.

“What? Dude!” Torres exclaimed, glancing back and forth between you and Sam before finally turning back to you, chuckling nervously. “He's just kidding! I would never have a crush on you- wait! That came out wrong! Not that you’re not pretty because you are- I just think you’re cool-”

You continued laughing as the man stumbling over his words in front of you, finding it endearing until you heard the super soldier scoff beside you. You glanced at him only to see him cross his arms while rolling his eyes before making his way out of the room.

Turning back to Torres you gave him a quick smile, pulling a card out of your pocket. “I have to go, but it was nice to meet you Torres. If these boys get in trouble again, make sure to call me first thing, okay?”

He took the card from your hand, nodding. “Uh yeah- yeah! Of course!”

With that you waved to both him and Sam before following the path Bucky had taken out of the room seconds before.

Seeing his figure pacing across the room, you threw your arms up in the air.

“What’s your problem?” You asked.

Stopping in his spot he turned to face you.

“What?” He said. “I don’t have a problem.”

You couldn’t help but scoff, crossing your arms. 

“Uh yeah. You do.” You said. “Did I do something to piss you off or something? Are you mad at me for coming on the mission? Because I’m sorry if I wanted to help save the world and make sure you guys didn’t get killed in the process.”

Bucky just stopped and stared at you standing across from him with your arms crossed. He hated to admit it, but you look pissed at him. It hurt knowing that you were upset with him, but it hurt a little more knowing that you felt as though he was mad at you when in actuality that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Y/n.” He said, stepping closer to you. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then why did you just storm out of the room?” You asked.

He couldn’t think of a reason besides the truth. He could lie and say that he was   mad at you, but that wouldn’t solve the situation for anyone and could possibly strain your relationship farther- and that was the last thing he could possibly want.

The two of you stood there in silence, staring at one another as Bucky attempted to find the words in his head to ease your concern without exposing himself in the process.

But you were never one to back down with him.

“Bucky,” You said. “What’s the problem? What did I do? Why are you so angry-”

“Because I don’t like the way that guy was talking to you!” He exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air.

“What?” You asked. “What are you talking about?”

Bucky realized he was in it now. He couldn’t see a way out of it.

For the past week, Bucky couldn’t help but notice that he cared for you a bit more than friends should. Maybe he always did. He thought back to the times he would eagerly await your weekly lunches or the comfort he felt when you took him furniture shopping after seeing his empty apartment for the first time. He thought back to the times you would show up outside of his door when he was upset because you were the only person he trusted there with him in those intimate moments- he knew that you were more than just his colleague, but he realized now that you were more than his friend.

Recently it became more obvious, the burning in his chest he felt when others became a little too comfortable with you- he attempted to mask it with just wanting to protect you, but he knew you could handle yourself. He was protective over you so he wouldn’t lose you.

Just when you opened your mouth to speak again, he cupped your face in his hands. He watched as your eyes widened, but didn’t make any move to stop him. When he caught your eyes trailing from his eyes to his lips, he pulled you towards him, meeting your lips in the middle.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t kissed anyone in eighty years, but he had never felt the way he had in that moment before. He was so utterly consumed in you- the feeling of your hands reaching for his jacket, tugging him closer as you deepened the kiss, your soft lips against his, your warm breath against his face- he was lost in it.

When you finally pulled away, he didn’t want to let go, but leaned back anyway, staring at his world- you- that he now held in his hands.

“Buck...”

“I think I like you more than a friend.” He confessed.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face at his words. You had always cared for Bucky as more than just your former fellow Avenger, but knowing that he felt the same as you was something you could hardly believe.

“I think I do too.” You laughed, then recalled what you had come in there for in the first place. “James, were you... were you jealous?”

Thinking back over the past week the two of you had spent together on the mission, he could almost laugh at the question you had just asked.

“You’re joking, right?” He chuckled. “Yeah. You could say I was a little bit jealous.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #Bucky Barnes drabble #bucky barnes blurb #Bucky Barnes fluff #Bucky Barnes angst

[witch-hazels-musings]

a place for the weary 

Convincing the boys to take a break and rest their head on your lap, because they all work so hard and need a comfortable place to just ... be  - plus … some of them just need love and affection (please) 

Includes: Albedo, Diluc, Scaramouche, Kaeya 

Warning -> SFW

Character X GN reader 

Albedo 

He’s busy, always busy - whether he’s working on some research in the labs or out in the field, he’s hardly ever taking a moment to stop. What he finds most relaxing is drawing, painting the scenery in front of him until he gets it all perfect, and while you love to watch how his face twists, his eyes scrunch together as he examines the lines on the page, you also wish he would take a moment to do nothing 

If you suggest the activity to him, he may wonder what could be the purpose of it; he might ask you a lot of questions as he leans down to rest his head on your lap 

“Albedo,” you call out to him as you watch him shuffle through the crates examining the bottles and other items sprawled in the container. He tilts his head to look at you, his fingers wrapped around the neck of a glass contained filled with some sort of liquid. “You’ve been working for so long, come take a rest.” You pat your leg and invite him to join you on the soft blanket you’d laid out some time ago. 

“I’m trying to make sure we have …” 

“I know,” you chuckle, “and it’ll be there for you after you take a quick break.” 

He straightened himself out, his torso stretching and overcorrecting slightly as he elongated out his muscles. The bottle slipped further into his palm as he moved his hand up and down, bouncing it slightly as he contemplated your suggestion. You knew it wasn’t like him to take breaks like this, still, you hoped he would at least this time.

“If it makes you feel more productive, bring your notebook so you can draw.” That seemed much more enticing, you smiled to yourself as you watched him retrieve his journal before falling in place at your side. 

You were always persistent in getting him to take a moment, a small second to stop moving or relax his eyes which only seemed to be tired when he rested against you 

After the first few times, he had tried a couple of different iterations until he found the best position to be the one he was participating in right now. Legs bent so he could prop his drawing notebook or journal onto them; his legs acting as a makeshift easel so he could sketch or paint what was in the background 

He may be inclined to share his thoughts with you, perhaps dominating the conversation as he ponders on rhetorical questions and thoughts that fill his mind, but you don’t care because your hands are busy in his hair anyway 

After finding a comfortable place for his head, the back of his hair pushed itself up as he slid along the edge of your thigh. You shifted so he could have enough space and while he began to work, you could continue reading through your book. These moments you cherished, these simple, peaceful moments that allowed you to be close to him while giving him all the freedom he’d ever shown you. 

Every once in a while you glanced down to his notebook and became transfixed by the way his pencil moved across the page. How each line transitioned from nonsense into a masterful capture of the world stretched out in front of him. It was incredible how his eyes were able to see so much and his hands moved to copy it all down. He didn’t seem to mind the corners of the page fluttering in the wind or how leaves would fall haphazardly around him, resting quietly on his chest or in his hair. 

Your hands instinctively went to retrieve them, your thumb sliding across the bumpy surface and fingers pushing against his soft blonde hair. Letting the leaf meander on its way to the ground, you returned your fingers to his head. The tips ran over his forehead, trailing until they came to rest on his outer ear and carefully you tucked some strands of his hair behind it. You heard him sigh and noticed the quick movements of the pen slow to a near stop, a sign for you to continue. 

Carefully, you returned your bookmark to the page before resting it onto the blanket. Your hands found their way back to his hair and they began to work their way to his scalp. Your nails sliding along, underneath, below, and over each strand as if you were inspecting it all. The soft texture of it, and the reaction of its owner, made the experience all the better. 

After a while, Albedo seemed to pull himself away from the trance you had put him under. A line here, a curve there, his pencil began to move again and the once empty spaces of the paper grew into a beautiful work of art. You too returned to the book you were reading but left one hand against his hair, your fingers moving every once in a while. 

The two of you shared in a moment, uninterrupted, and through the connection, the both of you felt more energized than before. 

Diluc

Relax? What is relax -> Diluc doesn’t know how, when, or what he would even do to relax so getting him to take a break, to have a moment would be a battle to say the least

You’re much more likely to find success if he’s tired, like super tired, tired to the point you see him shaking his head or rubbing his eyes with his fingers - here he is less likely to deny you - here you have more push in your persuasion 

You walked into the study knowing full well what you would find when you pushed open the door. There he was, just as you had imagined him, with his head peering down at documents, his fist balled and pressing against his forehead, his other hand gripping a pen and moving across the papers. 

The light from the midday sun slipped through the window and surrounded him in a beautiful glow; an ethereal being with hair the color of juiciest apples and skin paler than the cups of china stocked in the kitchen below. If Diluc would allow it, you’d have stolen several photos of him while he worked, but he wasn’t fond of pictures. 

You walked up to the desk and noticed that he had barely eaten the lunch the maids had prepared for him, a few bites taken but nothing substantial. He continued his work even as you approached the front desk, moments like these reminded you how much he trusted you. To allow someone to invade his space like this was an unbelievable sign of faith from the ever distrustful Diluc Ragnvindr. 

“Diluc, are you finished with this?” You asked, resting your hand on the edge of the desk and the other grazing the edge of the plate. 

“Mm?” He looked up at you, his eyes fuzzy and tired, you glanced with your eyes toward the plate and he followed their gaze. “Oh, yes. I’m finished.” You gave him a weak smile as your fingers closed around the cold ceramic. His head dropped back to the paperwork and you shook your own. Moving to place the plate on the tray next to the entrance of the study, you quickly returned to him but this time moving to his side. 

“How’s it coming?” You asked him, your hand drifting toward his shoulder and you grinned as his torso shifted to press deeper into your touch. 

“More and more orders are coming in. Seasonal changes always bring business, but it’s difficult to keep the orders together.” 

“Hmm, well I know you’ll get it done, you always figure it out.” You slid your hand along his back and noticed how he stopped the movements of his pen. “Why don’t you take a break?” 

“I’m far too busy for that.” He voiced, pulling himself back and away from you.

You reached for his hand, your fingers sliding over his bare skin. He disliked wearing gloves while he worked like this. “Indulge me?” 

You’ve instructed him to remove his jacket, the heavy fabric would distract from the relaxation you explained would come - he’s a bit hesitant about it, but you’ve asked so nicely how can he possibly say no to you 

He will lay on his back and look away from you in an effort to hide his embarrassment or weakness - as the master of the winery, the owner of this business, the pride of so many resting on his shoulders he always told himself that he has to hold it all together, until the day he realized you were the only thing holding him together

He melts, purely and simply, the ever stoic Diluc finds peace with you 

His head provides a nice pressure on your legs, his shoulders press against your thigh as you help him get comfortable here. He’s so tall that his feet fall off the daybed, but he doesn’t say anything or really move after. One of his arms rests at his sides while the other lay across his stomach, and you can’t help but smile at the tense way his fingers wrap themselves into a comforting fist. 

“I won’t hold you here for long, just try and relax.” You express knowing full well he will have a hard time doing just that. You’ve made sure his hair isn’t tucked underneath him and you admire the way it contrasts with your dark pants. With deft fingers, you undo the ribbon that keeps his hair in place, and as soon as it’s released you begin to fan the strands over your legs. 

Carefully, you run your hands over his hair, pressing lightly as you start at the crown of his head and work your way over the red pool on your lap. Out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed his fist beginning to relax, the way his long fingers extended across his stomach told you that he was finally committing to your request. From there, you decided to work your way through his hair, your fingers sifting and moving through the mess of wildfire on top of his head. 

Each time you moved to a new, untouched spot he relaxed more. His legs bending slightly, his hands opening up, his expression softening and soon, he began to turn toward you. His head moved, forehead now pressed against your hip, his body shifted just slightly to be closer to you. 

You began to softly hum, the sound of your voice adding to the calming atmosphere of the quiet study and, in a matter of minutes, you could see the steady rise and fall of Diluc’s chest, the inhale and exhale of air as it slipped past his lips and the irregular twitch of his fingers as he slipped off to sleep. 

A maid entered the room shortly after and when she saw the two of you in the back of the study and noticed the smile slightly hidden under your index finger as you indicated to her of the sleeping man on your lap, she bowed and exited the room. 

Scara

Grumpy - the embodiment of grumpy and absolute worst at taking any suggestion, ever. So when you bring this idea up to him, he’s super against it. He doesn’t want to appear, look, seem soft in any way - ‘what is this silly little thing you are asking me to do?’

He’d push the idea away every time you bring it up -- that is until the day your legs look so tantalizing they are practically calling his name. Perhaps it's the way your hands rest in your lap as they hold onto a book, or the light as it hits your legs, or just the sound of your voice as you offer him a place to rest again and again - he finally succumbs 

You’ve been sitting in Scara’s living room for some time now. You learned early on to let him do his own thing and not get in his way, he had made that very clear. Still, you were happy he let you invade his space, that he let you be someone that he tolerated more than most. It definitely ignited your pride to have someone of his stature interested in you. 

Though, the only issue with him was the fact that he was always on the move. He never seemed to be stationary for long, and often would be gone for days or weeks at a time, sometimes with a warning. So, you learned to keep yourself busy and take in every moment you could with him. 

He had been in and out most of the day so you found yourself preoccupied with your things. Reading, working, relaxing, whatever followed the requirements of the day; you just went with the flow. Today held those sentiments very strongly as you got comfortable on the couch, one leg resting underneath you and the other bouncing on the ball of your foot. You had been engrossed in your book for so long, the characters' adventures gripping you and pulling you through every hill and valley they traveled. You were so absorbed in the words that you didn’t notice Scara calling your name, or how he stood in front of you with his hands on his hips. 

Fingers entered your vision and a loud snap sound directly in front of you. You looked up startled and when you saw his face you finally welcomed him. 

“Hey, I didn’t notice you were home.” You show him a kind smile and receive nothing in return. 

“I was calling you.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“What have you been doing all day? Lazing about what it looks like.” He crossed his arms and looked around the room before returning his attention to you. 

“I’m taking a break, you’re welcome to join me.” You added, patting your lap. 

“I’ve already told you I would never do something so childish.” 

You chuckle, slipping your fingers in between the pages of your book. “I know, figured I’d give it another shot. Are you heading back out?” 

“It doesn’t matter.” He replied; conversations were often like this with him, short and to the point and almost always without any real answer. So you returned your attention to your book, the pages calling your name as your eyes scanned down the page before landing back on the sentence from which you had been pulled from. 

You were drawn back into the scene only to be ripped out of it once again. The book in your hand was pushed to the side, your elbow knocking into the arm of the chair and your head snapping to the source of the disturbance. Scara’s face suddenly came into view as his head rested against your lap, his eyes staring at the ceiling and cheeks speckled with the color silk flowers.

He has this response to things that can throw others off so quickly. He’s violent and angry, but he shows these small signs of humanity in his actions, simple, small things every once in a while it reminds you of a small child who isn’t sure what he really wants 

The more he participates in this activity, the more likely he will invade your lap whenever the urge comes over him. He’ll push whatever is in your lap away, if he’s feeling really nice he’ll pick it up and place it elsewhere, otherwise you learn to never hold anything breakable here - he won’t look at you either, his eyes will look away, always, and he expects you to know what he wants, don’t make him beg for anything 

You never once expected him to follow through with your request, not in a million years. So when he settles against your legs, his face right next to your stomach and eyes looking upward at you, you're unsure how to respond. 

“Well, I’m here.” He says, crossing his arms and legs as he waits expectantly for your attention. You’re so taken-aback that you can’t help but burst into laughter. Covering your face with your hand, the sound of your voice spills into the room and makes the harbinger shift against you. “I knew this was stupid …” He huffs and you have to use so much more strength than you anticipated to pull him back. 

“I’m sorry. I just … I never expected … please, don’t go.” You look at him with hopeful eyes and with a sigh he returns his head to your legs. While one of your hands rests against the top of his head, the other works to save your place in your book before resting it on the end table. You don’t even notice that your fingers have started to play with the short locks of his hair until you look back at his face and see his eyes closed. 

You stall, but only long enough for him to slightly open his eyes and look at you, his expression of ‘did I tell you to stop’ speaking volumes. So, you start to work your fingers through his hair, the dark purple strands slip easily through your fingers as you shift them around. Spreading your hands out and pressing the tips of your fingers against his scalp and, as your bravery grows, you move your fingers toward his jaw and along the edge of his hairline. His short hair gives you a great view of his face, and you wonder if this is the first time you’ve ever really had the opportunity to look at him. He’s incredibly handsome, one reason he was able to capture you so easily, and the longer you played with his hair, the further the corner of his mouth moved into a faint smile. You would do almost anything for that smile. 

A soft chuckle sounds from your throat and the calmness of your actions is gone in an instant. His eyes are open and he’s slipped from your lap, his feet connecting to the floor and the warmth of his body dissipating from your legs. You protest, but he’s already halfway across the room and is clearly trying to keep you from looking at his face. 

Kaeya

He is all about this activity - honestly, he’s all about any type of touch you want to offer him and while he has a lot on his plate, he will take these moments to be with you. He doesn’t care either where or around who, he may be partaking in this delectable experience - his mind is filled with you and, when you hold him, touch him, love him, he can think of nothing else 

You hadn’t seen him all day, which wasn’t uncommon when there were new recruits or the knights were preparing for a subjection out in the wilderness, Kaeya was typically busier during these times. So, when there were days he wouldn’t be able to get away, and you knew he would continue to work until everything was done, you would find your way to him and offer him a short reprieve from the duties of his work. 

He was standing in the hallway consumed in a conversation with one of the knights. His usually peppy demeanor seemed faded, his shoulders drooped a bit further, his gestures more muted as spoke with the other party, and overall, he didn’t seem as energetic as he normally was. 

The closer you got, the more attention you drew, and soon Kaeya turned to look at what was drawing the eyes of his speaking partner. 

“Y/N. What a pleasant surprise.” He perked up when he saw you, the light in his blue eyes flashing, a smile stretching across his face. 

“Hey! I wanted to stop by since I had a moment. Are you free?” You asked him, crossing your hands behind your back and giving the other knight a quick head nod who returned your hello in a similar manner. 

“Of course, I will spare all my time for you.” He closed the distance between the two of you, an arm draping around your shoulder and pulling you close. 

“Captain, we’ve been asked to …” 

“Yes, yes. I’ll get right on it.” He affirmed to the knight before turning all his attention to you and ushering you down the hallway toward his office. 

“Are you sure you are free? If you need me to come ba …” 

“Nonsense, how could I pass up this opportunity. Do not worry your pretty little head.” He laughed, his smile wide and eyes closed. 

“Okay, I won’t keep you long then.” 

“Oh, but I was hoping you’d save me from this boring day.” He laughed and squeezed you closer to his side, even though you could tell he was more tired than usual he was still able to give you so much of his energy.

Kaeya will turn his head toward you, he’ll wrap his hand around your waist because even here he cannot get close enough 

Here, he can breathe you in and be the center of your attention - which is his most favorite thing

What he prefers, what he loves most, is when you touch his face, stroke his cheeks with the back of your fingers or your hands as they slide over him, the way you run your fingers along his brow, his jaw, and across his neck - these actions will give him the chills and it may be the only time you truly see him react in such a way 

When you get settled onto the couch in his office you call him to you. He eagerly takes the space next to you as if it was always meant for him. 

“Lay down, you look exhausted.” You explain, extending your arm around him and waving him to rest in your lap. 

“Hah, are you trying to take advantage of me?” He asks, moving closer to you rather than doing what you asked. 

“If taking advantage of you looks like letting you take a break, then yes. That’s exactly what I’m doing here.” Your laughter fills his ears and he remembers just how much he missed the sound. 

“How can I possibly say no to you?” 

“I know, I’m pretty convincing. Now, come here.” You pull on the sleeve of his arm and he quickly follows your guidance. His head settles onto your thighs, his face as close to your stomach as he can get, and his hands resting against his chest. 

You help him drape his hair over your leg and start working your way through his bangs, sliding your fingers along his forehead. His playful smile slips into a relaxed expression as he takes in the feeling of your touch on his skin. The way you trace your fingers down his cheek, over his nose, across his lips, his jawline, he is beyond happy here. 

“Do you know when you might be able to take a real break?” You ask, running your fingers through the blue strands of his hair, admiring the way it looks as you move them to places they don’t normally rest. 

“It seems there are many days ahead of us. These new recruits are …” He lifted his hands into a shrug before dropping them back onto his chest, “Well, progressing at their own pace we’ll say.” 

“So it’ll be a while.” 

“Perhaps. Don’t fret though, I’ll always make time for you to refill my reserves.” 

“I’ll take on that request.” You look down at him and catch his eyes staring back, he moves his hand to rest against your arm and gives it a tight squeeze before turning his face toward you. His eye closes and even as the conversation dies down, as his breathing becomes slower, and his hand slips down the side of your arm you know he won’t fall asleep. He never falls asleep when you are with him like this, no matter how tired he is he refuses to miss a single moment. 

#genshin impact #genshin impact X reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact musings #genshin impact fiction #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich #genshin kaeya #kaeya #diluc X reader #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #genshin diluc #genshin scaramouche #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #albedo x reader #albedo #genshin albedo #genshin impact albedo #scaramouche

[robininthelabyrinth]

I hope you get plenty of prompts that you enjoy. Thank you.

NMJ bonding with child Wangji. Maybe a few times NMJ beat little LWJ in a spar and the time he knew little Wangji would one day beat him. Mostly Pre Cloud Recesses arc?

Of Few Words - ao3

The first time Nie Mingjue met Lan Xichen’s little brother, he thought he would be just like Nie Huaisang, so he picked him up and threw him.

“Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Xichen gasped, clearly horrified. “What are you doing?”

Probably something forbidden by the rules, Nie Mingjue thought, and shrugged.

He wasn’t good with words, was too blunt and too direct, especially for the Lan sect, and so over the past couple of weeks or so that he’d been here he’d found it was easier not to speak at all. They’d make whatever assumptions they wanted about him, no matter what he did; it was easier to just let them do that and work with that than it was to futilely strive to get them to actually understand him.

“Even if Wangji has done something to upset you, you may only assign him to do copying,” Lan Xichen told him, and Nie Mingjue was briefly surprised that his new friend had assumed he was angry before he remembered that everyone here thought he was angry all the time, so it wasn’t actually that much of a surprise. “Please keep that in mind. Also, I don’t know if I’ve said, but he’s very reserved, so please don’t take offense if he just points things out...oh, I wish I wasn’t needed elsewhere this afternoon! I’d much rather show you around myself, but as it is, he’ll be showing you around this part of the Cloud Recesses in my place.”

Nie Mingjue grunted assent, and watched, a little desolately, as Lan Xichen disappeared down the still confusing twists and turns of the paths of the Cloud Recesses. It was all gardens here, carefully tended to maximize graceful tranquility, and he was sure he would have no chance of ever finding his way back on his own if left to it.

It wouldn’t surprise him in the slightest if he was. The other Lan disciples hadn’t really taken to him the way Lan Xichen had, much less a younger brother that the (rather reserved, by Nie Mingjue’s standards) Lan Xichen had described as reserved…

Unexpectedly, a small hand slipped into his own, and he looked down in surprise.

Lan Wangji looked up at him, his cheeks flushed a little red.

Nie Mingjue instinctively smiled at him, charmed by the reminder of Nie Huaisang, then remembered that too much exuberance seemed to only disturb the Lan sect and struggled to get his expression under control. He expected him to start leading him around the Cloud Recesses without another word – he had overheard Lan Qiren telling his father that Lan Wangji wasn’t much of a talker, very quiet, and to not expect much interaction with him – but to his surprise Lan Wangji did not move, looking at up at him thoughtfully, lips pursed as if he was considering saying something.

Nie Mingjue waited for his judgment.

“You weren’t angry,” Lan Wangji finally said. “When you threw me.”

Nie Mingjue blinked.

“No,” he admitted, breaking his own informal vow of silence. “I wasn’t. I thought you might enjoy it.”

Nie Huaisang loved being tossed around, whether up into the air or into bushes, headfirst shrieking into his bed or ass-first into a pool of water; he’d thought tossing little brothers around was what big brothers were there for. Sure, there was a small age gap – Lan Wangji was six, Nie Huaisang still not quite five – but he hadn’t thought it would make such a difference.

Lan Wangji hummed thoughtfully. He did not speak for another long while, but Nie Mingjue was starting to think that that was just him chewing over his thoughts before forming them into words.

At last, he spoke again: “I did.”

Nothing afterwards. Hesitantly, Nie Mingjue asked, “Would you like me to do it again?”

Lan Wangji nodded.

This time, Nie Mingjue was a little more cautious: he threw Lan Wangji up into the air and caught him, trying to demonstrate that he knew what he was doing, that he could be trusted, and by the third or fourth time Lan Wangji was smiling. It wasn’t quite on part with Nie Huaisang’s giggles and shrieks, but felt rewarding nevertheless.

Satisfied by his success, Nie Mingjue was about to put him down on the ground, but hesitated. “Do you want to ride on my shoulders?” he asked, and waited as Lan Wangji considered it.

“Another time,” Lan Wangji decided. “Not today.”

Nie Mingjue nodded and put him down. Lan Wangji took his hand once again and, this time, led him around the way he’d expected from the start, pointing out various places and naming them in a quiet murmur.

Lan Wangji really wasn’t much of a talker, a person of few words, but that was fine. So was Nie Mingjue.

-

It was a few days later that he came across Lan Wangji kneeling beside the training grounds and impulsively challenged him. He was getting bored of training alone: Lan Xichen was busy again, and the other Lan disciples had already made clear that they didn’t want to have anything to do with him, the interloper who’d pushed his way into their lessons by force.

It wasn’t actually like that at all – his father had sent Nie Mingjue to learn here for the season as a gesture of goodwill, wanting to support Lan Qiren’s lecture series and make it clear that other sects should follow suit, to encourage Lan Qiren’s goal of eventually creating a safe haven for all the Great Sect’s heirs to come together and learn and build friendships while still in their youth – but Nie Mingjue knew that there was no convincing any of his wary Lan sect peers of that. Even if there was, he certainly couldn’t do it, not with his clumsy tongue and scowling face and too-tall height that made everyone immediately assume he would resort to violence as his first and only argument.

So he trained alone and studied alone, or with Lan Xichen in the rare times when his friend was free, but it was boring, and anyway, he thought he’d gotten on pretty well with Lan Wangji the first time they’d met. It wouldn’t be a real spar, of course, not against a six-year-old, but doing the moves slow and mirroring a smaller opponent would force him to pay close attention to his own technique, which would pay off in the long run.

He explained this to Lan Wangji when the boy frowned up at him in what Nie Mingjue was starting to be able to identify as a silent question – he didn’t use many words himself, just spat out “Mirroring improves technique,” and saw that Lan Wangji understood the rest – and a moment later Lan Wangji nodded and rose to his feet, picking up one of the practice swords and taking a position opposite him on one of the fields.

Nie Mingjue started with a standard warm-up routine, unsure of Lan Wangji’s skills. Supposedly he was the opposite of Nie Huaisang in this respect, too, startlingly advanced for his age, but Lan Qiren had also said something about him pausing his sword training as a result of some incident, not specified; his father had nodded in response as if he’d understood, which was very unhelpful to the eavesdropping Nie Mingjue, who didn’t. Since he didn’t know the background of the incident or when Lan Wangji had picked up sword training again, and more to the point wasn’t inclined to ask since he knew that Lan Wangji wouldn’t enjoy explaining, he just started out with the basics and went up slowly from there.

It turned out his concerns were mostly unnecessary – Lan Wangji was a bit stiff at first, maybe because of the kneeling he’d been doing, but he clearly had the basics down flat, and they were able to progress to something a little more interesting quick enough, trading very slow swipes with saber and sword.

Nie Mingjue didn’t even notice that they had an audience until he heard Lan Xichen say his name in a strangled voice. He finished the follow-through of the move they were on, since stopping in the middle could be dangerous (not for them, not with training swords, but in the future, when it was real, and forming good habits now would help more later on), saluted Lan Wangji with his saber and was saluted in return, and then turned to look for his friend.

Lan Xichen was staring at them as if they’d turned into ghosts, and there was a whole crowd of Lan sect disciples standing around gawking at them instead of doing their own training.

Nie Mingjue hunched up his shoulders, assuming he’d somehow managed to do something wrong again, and automatically stepped in front of Lan Wangji, blocking the others’ views of him. “I challenged him,” he said bluntly, hoping to take the brunt of whatever punishment would need to be imposed here – generally speaking, he’d learned that the Lan sect’s penalties for being lured into misbehavior were less than the penalties for instigating it. “He didn’t seem otherwise occupied.”

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen said, or started to say, but Lan Wangji was already turning to put away his training sword. He then formally saluted his brother and trotted away from the training field entirely.

Lan Xichen watched him go without stopping him, then turned to Nie Mingjue. “Mingjue-xiong, how did you get him to fight you?”

Nie Mingjue blinked, confused. “I asked.”

“Yes, but – how?”

“I asked him to train with me,” Nie Mingjue said slowly, not sure if he was missing something. “I pointed out that mirroring improves technique. He probably did it as a favor to me…listen, do you need me to copy lines or something?”

“Copy lines?”

“For whatever rule I just broke,” Nie Mingjue clarified, but Lan Xichen only looked more confused. “Was it because he was kneeling and I interrupted him?”

Everyone is staring at me again and I don’t know why, again. Just tell me what it is that I did, impose the punishment, and I won’t do it again, I promise – but you need to tell me what it was that I did wrong first.

“Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Xichen said, staring at him even more strangely now. “You didn’t break any rules at all.”

That was even weirder. “But –”

“Wangji was kneeling because that’s what he always does during training hours,” Lan Xichen said. “He doesn’t train the sword anymore.”

“He – doesn’t?” Nie Mingjue asked, now even more confused, and in his confusion forgot that he was in the Lan sect with their carefully thought-out sentences and myriad of prickly unwritten rules. “Why not? He’s so good at it! And he seemed to be having a good time, too…listen, I know your sect prizes musical cultivation, Xichen, and that it’s often one or the other, but there’s really no reason he can’t do both.”

He belatedly realized he was talking too much and shut his mouth, embarrassed. He shouldn’t have brought up that subject.

After all, Qingheng-jun had been a sword cultivator with little interest in music beyond battle-songs  – still was, Nie Mingjue supposed, although he was in seclusion so much that it might as well be ‘had been’ – and Lan Qiren was an expert at musical cultivation, skilled in both xiao and guqin, but used his sword only to fly.  They’d been trained that way, complementary to each other’s strengths – Qingheng-jun the attacking hand, Lan Qiren the supporting arm – which was a pretty decent plan right up until it had all rather been ruined when Qingheng-jun had for whatever reason retreated from the world.

“Of course,” Lan Xichen echoed, and luckily he didn’t seem to notice the implied criticism. “He should, of course, if he wants to…Mingjue-xiong, I’m sorry, I have to go again, I need to talk to my uncle at once. But you should feel free to challenge Wangji again – in fact, I would appreciate it if you did. Liu-xiong, can you tell Mingjue-xiong what Wangji’s training hours are?”

One of the other Lan disciples nodded, and Lan Xichen flashed them both a thankful smile before disappearing again, even though he’d promised that his uncle only needed him for half a day and that they’d be able to go down to visit Caiyi Town that afternoon.

As a result, despite Lan Xichen’s assurances, Nie Mingjue still had the distinct feeling that he’d done something wrong, but he really couldn’t see what. Best not to think too much about it, he supposed.

-

By the afternoon, Nie Mingjue had retreated to the library to avoid being stared at. He’d thought that the indirect sneers and silent rigid politeness that invited no familiarity was bad, but apparently it was actively worse when the Lan sect disciples treated him like he’d just turned into a performing monkey that had done a neat trick. They still wouldn’t condescend to talk to him, of course, but they felt no issue staring or talking to each other about him – even though Nie Mingjue was sure there was a rule about not talking behind people’s backs.

Maybe it didn’t count if you did it in front of their faces.

Nie Mingjue actually rather liked the library, despite the Lan sect’s general tendency to treat him like an illiterate ape that only knew how to swing a saber – even Lan Xichen had looked a little puzzled the first time he’d asked to spend the afternoon there, though of course he hadn’t said anything out loud beyond reminding Nie Mingjue that they didn’t have to go there and that it wasn’t necessary to sacrifice his own enjoyment for Lan Xichen’s.

It wasn’t his friend’s fault that he was brought up to prefer those were gentle and scholarly, Nie Mingjue reminded himself, even if it chafed a little every time that Lan Xichen automatically sided with someone who could express themselves better, someone cleverer with words than he; that trait was common to just about everyone at the Cloud Recesses, and at least Lan Xichen would eventually listen to him if he kept his temper under control and persisted in trying to make his point.

Nie Mingjue might wish that the Lan sect didn’t view losing one’s temper as an automatic forfeit of the argument – do not succumb to rage had been whispered in his vicinity more times than he could count, though rarely to his face – and he might think in his heart of hearts think that they were simply wrong in dismissing his viewpoint just because he felt too strongly about a matter to contain himself, but he was a guest here and he needed to respect their ways, conform himself to their customs, even if it upset and disturbed him to do so.

At least sometimes those ways and customs served him, including in the deliberate air of quiet contemplation in the Library Pavilion. There were separate rooms for private study, of course, but an emphasis was put on preserving the tranquility of the location, and it seemed that the Lan disciples at least knew enough shame to avoid coming to gawk at him from the door when he was there.

Deciding to entertain himself, Nie Mingjue picked out several books on military strategy utilizing musical cultivation – just because he was all but tone-deaf didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate the power of the Lan sect’s core techniques – and settled down for a nice afternoon of being alone.

Until, of course, he wasn’t.

He was pretty absorbed in an analysis of altitude effects on range attacks for a while, deaf and blind to the outside world the way he usually was when he was reading, and then, perhaps alerted by some sound, he looked up to find that the sun had shifted position and also that Lan Wangji was sitting across from him with his own book primly laid out in front of him.

Nie Mingjue blinked and thought briefly about saying something. If it had been Nie Huaisang, he would have – some friendly jibe that Nie Huaisang would return in full measure, before they both settled down to enjoy each other’s company in communal silence – but this was Lan Wangji, who was a Lan, and probably wouldn’t appreciate it.

So he didn’t say anything, just looked back down at his book and continued reading.

After a little while, there was a tug at his sleeve.

Nie Mingjue looked up. Lan Wangji was pointing to one of the words in his book – “Frivolous,” he said, assuming that Lan Wangji was asking for assistance with the more complicated characters the way that Nie Huaisang would have, albeit with much less whining. “Means lacking purpose or value.”

Lan Wangji nodded, released his sleeve, and returned to his reading.

They carried on in this fashion for a while, quiet reading interspersed with occasional reading comprehension questions, and it was nice. Nie Mingjue could feel the stress of the day slowly sliding off his shoulders – more than just the day, maybe the whole week, the entire time he’d been here, or even before, when Nie Huaisang burst into tears at finding out his big brother was going to be leaving him behind. He would need to write to him again soon, Nie Mingjue thought to himself, and send presents; he’d been hoping to pick something up in Caiyi Town today, but then Lan Xichen had gotten busy…

It’d be nice if he could get him something from the Cloud Recesses itself, though.

“Wangji,” he said before he could stop himself. “What is a present you would get for someone who likes pretty things?”

Lan Wangji blinked up at him, then frowned. Nie Mingjue was pretty sure that it was a thinking frown, though, so he just waited, and sure enough Lan Wangji carefully closed his book and stood up.

“Flowers,” he said, and held out a hand as if to help Nie Mingjue up.

Nie Mingjue long ago learned that when a small child offers to help you, you accept regardless of whether or not they were actually capable of performing the action in question – though with Lan sect arm strength, who even knew – so he took Lan Wangji’s hand and scrambled up to his feet.

“Flowers?” he asked, a little dubiously. “I don’t know if they’d survive being sent by post.”

“Flower petals,” Lan Wangji clarified. “Pressed.”

Nie Mingjue blinked, but actually, no, that sounded perfect for Nie Huaisang. Especially if he got them pressed into a bookmark or something.

“My brother will love it,” he said enthusiastically. “Do you know where there are good flowers?” He knew himself well enough not to even try to make that sort of judgment call. “Can you show me?”

Lan Wangji frowned, and this one wasn’t his thinking frown – it seemed sad, almost.

“You don’t have to,” Nie Mingjue assured him, but Lan Wangji set his shoulders in a look of fierce six-year-old determination and he nodded as if he was going to go to war. “Really, if you don’t want to interrupt your reading –”

“The place is sad,” Lan Wangji said. “But it has the best flowers.”

Nie Mingjue frowned. He could tell from the way Lan Wangji’s little lips were firmed up in stubborn intent that there would be no stopping him, that he was determined to get Nie Mingjue the best flowers – truly, Lan Wangji was such a good boy, unlike that junior hellspawn and walking calamity named Nie Huaisang – but also that he thought it would hurt him to do so.

He didn’t want Lan Wangji to hurt.

“Do you want to ride on my shoulders this time?” Nie Mingjue asked, and Lan Wangji looked at him in surprise. He shrugged. “Sometimes having a different perspective on the same place makes it feel different.”

He knew he was butchering the explanation – he really wasn’t good with words – but he didn’t know how else to explain it.

He didn’t know how to explain that he used to spend days and days looking at the place where Nie Huaisang’s mother had gone in to give birth and never come back out, equally drawn and repulsed by it, right up until the day he climbed up the gate of the Unclean Realm on a dare and by coincidence happened to see it when he looked down from that great height, only to realize that the place he’d thought of as dark and depressing and even haunted was just a room like all the rooms right beside it: he couldn’t even tell it apart from the rest.

“…mn,” Lan Wangji said, sounding doubtful, but he hopped onto Nie Mingjue’s back when offered and scrambled up to sit on his shoulders, ducking his head to avoid the doorway to the Library Pavilion as they exited out the side door, and then he showed him the way to a nice looking cottage that seemed a little out of the way but which was surrounded by what were undoubtedly lovely purple gentians.

“Wow,” Nie Mingjue couldn’t help but say. “They’re very – purple.”

Lan Wangji poked him in the head.

“They are! Very purple. I’m sure Huaisang will love them to a ridiculous degree and that my father will write me angry letters about trying to sell him to the Jiang sect again –” There was a very small snort from above his head. “In my defense, he was really annoying when he was a colicky baby, and at the time I thought the Jiang sect were pirates.”

Another snort, this time less small. Somewhat disdainful.

“Listen, they’re ‘known for their watercraft’, right? It was a perfectly reasonable mistake to make…”

Lan Wangji didn’t giggle the way Nie Huaisang did when Nie Mingjue clowned around for him, but he was smiling by the time he edged onto a nearby tree branch to get a particular blossom that Nie Mingjue had set his heart on, declaring it the fattest of all the flowers and thereby a necessary acquisition, and in the end they collected a full basket of the purple flowers, more than enough for a dozen pressed bookmarks.

The smile made Nie Mingjue feel like he accomplished something.

It was almost enough, even, to let him brush off all the stares they got as they walked back together, side-by-side.

-

Nie Mingjue reported to Lan Qiren’s study with a great deal of trepidation.

It only got worse when he saw Lan Xichen sitting there as well, and when Lan Qiren instructed his nephew to serve them all tea. Nie Mingjue was abruptly seized by the fear that something terrible had happened: that he’d broken some unknown rule and needed to be punished severely, that he’d failed all his tests, that they’d decided he wasn’t actually a good fit for the Cloud Recesses after all, that his father had been summoned to take him back home early in disgrace –

“You’ve been spending some time with Wangji of late,” Lan Qiren said.

Nie Mingjue nodded.

“Yesterday, you presented the craftsman with a basket of purple gentians. Did Wangji show you where to find them?”

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue said cautiously. “He helped me pick them.”

Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen exchanged glances.

Nie Mingjue somehow felt even more nervous.

“Was I not supposed to take them?” he asked. “Wangji said they’re his mother’s favorites.”

Lan Xichen dropped his cup.

“Xichen,” Lan Qiren said sternly, and Lan Xichen apologized and quickly cleaned it up. Luckily the cup had not shattered. “Nie-gongzi, to confirm, Wangji told you that himself?”

Nie Mingjue nodded.

Lan Qiren stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Nie-gongzi…if I were to tell you that Wangji has not spoken to anyone in nearly six months, what would you say?”

Nie Mingjue blinked.

“He also hasn’t trained with the sword in that time,” Lan Xichen interjected.

Nie Mingjue opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no idea what to say.

“Our mother died,” Lan Xichen explained, his brow creased in misery and concern. “Wangji didn’t really understand…it took a long time before he understood that he couldn’t see her any more.”

“Oh,” Nie Mingjue said, feeling uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, Xichen.”

Now it was Lan Xichen’s turn to blink. “Sorry? For what?”

“For your loss? I mean, she was your mother, too, right?” It occurred to Nie Mingjue that she might not be, the way his mother and Nie Huaisang’s mother weren’t the same, but he was pretty sure the Lan sect only allowed for one marriage, and the age gap between Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji was smaller than the one between him and Nie Huaisang…

“Yes,” Lan Xichen said. “She – was. Thank you.”

Lan Qiren made a thoughtful sound.

“If you’re asking if I did something to convince Wangji to come with me and do all that,” Nie Mingjue said, having finally figured out why he was sitting here having tea and being uncomfortable, “I really didn’t. It may just be that enough time has passed for the wound to scab over.”

“Perhaps,” Lan Qiren said.

“I think he feels bad for me?” Nie Mingjue hazarded. “I’m not sure. I’m still learning how to understand him.”

“The fact that you’ve realized that there’s something there to understand puts you way ahead of most people,” Lan Xichen told him.

“Why would he feel bad for you?” Lan Qiren asked.

Because your sect is full of snobs that all hate me.

“Uh,” Nie Mingjue said. “I – have no idea.”

Lan Xichen frowned at him. “Mingjue-xiong, ‘do not tell lies’ is a rule.”

“So is ‘do not insult people’,” Nie Mingjue said sulkily, and refused to say another word no matter how many ways Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen asked. He’d already figured out that not talking was the best way to avoid getting into trouble – the Lan sect was much more insular than the Nie sect, with all sorts of restrictions about getting brought in, and he didn’t have any confidence that expressing grievances would result in anything other than more shunning.

Eventually, Lan Qiren dismissed him, frowning, and Lan Xichen escorted him back to his rooms.

“Is it because you don’t trust me?” he asked, and Nie Mingjue stared at him.

“What are you talking about?” he said. “Of course I trust you. You’re my friend.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me that there was something wrong?” Lan Xichen demanded. “And don’t say nothing’s wrong, that’s obviously a lie.”

“It’s because we’re friends,” Nie Mingjue said with a sigh. Most of the time, he forgot that there was an age gap between him and Lan Xichen – three and a half years, same as the gap between Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji – but sometimes it really hit home. “I don’t want to make trouble for you. This is just a place I’m staying for a little while, but you live here; after I go, we’ll still be friends, but you’ll still be stuck with whatever mess I make for you.”

Lan Xichen was scowling, his lower lip trembling a little, and Nie Mingjue cautiously reached out a hand to put on his shoulder, squeezing. He would prefer to give him a hug, but he didn’t know if it would be welcome – he’d already told Lan Xichen that he himself was always open for hugs, but he knew very well that Lan Xichen was uncomfortable with too much contact.

“It’s all right,” he said.

“No, it’s not,” Lan Xichen said. “Wangji noticed that you were unhappy, and I didn’t! What kind of friend am I?”

“You’re a good friend,” Nie Mingjue insisted. “You are. It’s not about you. I promise.”

They still hadn’t resolved it by the time Lan Xichen left him at his room. Nie Mingjue sighed, hoped that he hadn’t inadvertently ruined everything, and went to sleep.

The next morning, he woke up when the door to his room opened abruptly with a slam that seemed, in his sleep-fogged brain, to echo throughout the entire Cloud Recesses.

“Mingjue-xiong!”

“…Xichen?” Nie Mingjue said, and rubbed his eyes disbelievingly. “Did you just slam a door?”

It wasn’t really a slam. It was a small shove, at best.

“Why didn’t you tell me people were being mean to you?” Lan Xichen demanded, and Nie Mingjue stared at him. “I would’ve made them stop! Really, I would have! I don’t care if they’re Lan sect and you’re not, they shouldn’t be – I shouldn’t be – making assumptions about you or pushing you out or – or – or anything!”

“Where did you get all of this from?” Nie Mingjue asked, utterly at sea. He was right, of course, about the problems Nie Mingjue had been having, but he certainly hadn’t known it last night before curfew and while, yes, it was only morning by the standards of guest disciples and not Lan sect members themselves – he got an extra shichen to sleep in while he adjusted to the earlier schedule, of which he generally tried to use only half – it still seemed a little implausible that Lan Xichen had managed to puzzle all of that out overnight.

“Wangji!” Lan Xichen said, and threw himself on the bed next to Nie Mingjue and gave him a hug, a good proper one like the ones he used to get all the time back in Qinghe and which he missed rather terribly. “He actually came and talked to us! With words! Well, a few words, anyway, but he hasn’t said anything to Shifu or me for six months up until now. He said you were unhappy because of the other Lan disciples persisted in thinking that you were stupid and angry when you’re neither.”

Nie Mingjue felt warm inside.

“Your brother’s smart,” he said gruffly.

“He is,” Lan Xichen said. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I also thought you were stupid and angry and nothing more than that. I know you’re not.”

“I didn’t think that,” Nie Mingjue said, and it was mostly not a lie. “We’re friends, aren’t we? A friend wouldn’t think that about another friend.”

“That’s right,” Lan Xichen said, nodding firmly. “And friends don’t let friends go around thinking they didn’t do anything when they did something big – I still don’t know what exactly you did, Mingjue-xiong, but you helped Wangji a lot, and I’m eternally grateful.”

“There’s no need for thanks between friends,” Nie Mingjue reminded him, the first rule of their friendship formed in the spaces between discussion conferences that neither of them had any choice but to attend, and Lan Xichen smiled.

“I know,” he said warmly, and Nie Mingjue felt warm in response. “But I’m going to abuse my privilege and ask you to keep spending time with him – with both of us, sometimes, but with him by yourself if you don’t mind – so I think you’re owed at least one ‘thanks’.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Nie Mingjue said, grinning. “You just want a free babysitter, is that it?”

“It is not! Mingjue-xiong!”

Nie Mingjue started laughing. Lan Xichen smacked him – lightly by Lan standards, no doubt, but it was a good thing Nie Mingjue was as strong as he was.

“I don’t mind,” Nie Mingjue finally said. “I like your brother.”

Lan Xichen’s smile was as dazzling as the sun. “Good,” he said. “He likes you, too.”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #lan wangji #lan xichen #my fic #my fics #of few words #ivydragon

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 5) - Date Night

Summary: The reader and Jensen go on their first fancy date together before attending a nanny happy hour the next night. The reader makes a new friend there to Jensen’s dismay but someone from the past will come along and change things between the new couple...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 4,200ish

Warnings: language, lying, angst, mention of past child abuse/assault, fluff

A/N: This a rough one, not gonna lie. Enjoy!

________

Friday Night

“Y/N, I’m downstairs when you’re ready,” said Jensen through your closed bedroom door.

“I’ll be there in five,” you said.

“See you in fifteen,” he chuckled before he walked away. You walked back into your bathroom, looking over your hair in a bun. It looked like a freaking messy bun actually. You should have done it down and in big flowy waves instead. You pouted and smoothed out your dress. Of course you were bloated and you’d nicked your leg more than once shaving earlier. 

“It’s Jensen,” you said to yourself, taking a deep breath. “He’s never even seen you in makeup before. You’re fine. He’s not gonna say anything.”

You forced yourself out of the bathroom and slipped on your heels, your clutch in your hand. You wobbled for a step or two on the carpet but did better once you were out in the hardwood hall. Ten seconds later you were downstairs, heading over to the foyer area. 

“All set?” you asked, Jensen spinning around. He smiled as he stared, eyes looking you up and down more than once, not even trying to hide it.

“Y/N, you look pretty,” said Arrow as she rushed in from the family room. 

“Yes she does,” said Jensen. “We’ll be home soon, okay?”

“Okie dokie,” she said, wandering off with a little wave.

Half an hour later you were sat at a table in a very nice restaurant, Jensen tugging on his collar. His cheeks were slightly pink but it wasn’t from the cold outside. 

“So...what’s a good wine?” you asked, sliding the drink list over to him. “I’m not really good with the names.”

“You like red or white?” he asked.

“Normally red,” you said. “You?”

“I like a Merlot,” he said. “You like dry?”

“Sure,” you said. 

“We’re not going dutch tonight you know right. This is all on me.”

“We can go dutch, Jensen.”

“I asked you out and this is fancy, even for me. My treat, okay?” he asked.

“Alright,” you said, looking around the restaurant and over in the distance to the bar. “You know I could go for a lemon drop actually.”

He smirked and set the list down, a waiter coming by. He ordered a gin and tonic for himself while you got your cocktail, Jensen breaking off part of a breadstick from the basket. 

“Bread’s good,” he said with his mouth full.

“So. Ackles,” you said, picking up a piece and tearing off a chunk with your teeth. He stared and started to laugh to himself. “Ah, there’s my sweet guy.”

“Thought you were gonna say boyfriend for a second.”

“This is our second official date,” you said. “So. Boyfriend.”

“Yes girlfriend?” he chuckled.

“What’s an appetizer look like in a place like this? Like a tiny cube of cheese with some dressing they’re gonna charge twenty bucks for or something like that?”

“You’re goofy,” he said, a big smile stuck on his face. “Uh, they probably have something like that. There’s normally some kind of bread olive oil bowl option.”

“Fancy people eat like a starving college student apparently,” you said. He tried to hide his laugh as your waiter brought over the drinks and a pair of menus. “Excuse me but can you recommend an appetizer? We’re both new to town and are wondering what you think is a good choice.”

“You can’t go wrong with our sourdough and seasoned oil dipping sauce,” he said. You glanced at Jensen and smiled. “The artichoke spinach dip and tartar crackers are also quite lovely.”

“Do you have anything with a little more substance? We’re quite starving,” said Jensen.

“The fried calamari and crab cake poppers combo is a great option,” he said.

“What’s calamari?” you asked.

“Squid, miss,” said the waiter.

“We’ll have that combo,” said Jensen.

“Perfect. I’ll put that in and be back shortly to get your dinner orders,” he said. He took off and you made a face at Jensen.

“Squid?” you asked.

“It’s fried. Trust me, it’s pretty good,” he said. “I could go for a good steak. You see a filet on here yet?”

“Uh,” you said, eyes scanning the page and seeing most everything was something you’d never heard of. 

“There it is,” he said. “I’m getting that and scalloped potatoes. See anything you want to try?”

“Uh, why does half of this seem like it’s a foreign language to me?” you asked. Jensen looked at his menu and chuckled.

“That would be because it’s in French. We’re in Canada and this is a french restaurant.”

“Oh. Gotcha,” you said. He got up and leaned over the back of your chair, glancing at the page.

“These are soups and salads,” he said, pointing near the top. “Sandwiches. Pasta. Main dishes down here.”

“Uh, maybe pasta?” you said. He knelt down and read off the dishes to you one by one, your waiter returning by the time he was just finishing.

“Anything I can assist you with?” he asked.

“I’ll have the fettuccine alfredo with chicken please,” you said, handing the menu to him, Jensen returning to his seat.

“Face principale?” he asked. You stared at Jensen and he smiled.

“She doesn’t speak French,” said Jensen.

“My apologies miss. What would you like for your main side dish?” asked the waiter. “Steamed vegetables, scalloped potatoes, lobster bisque-”

“I’ll have the vegetables,” you said. Jensen ordered and the waiter went to get your appetizer, a sad smile on his face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think twice about the French thing.”

“Kinda hot that you know French,” you said. “I should try to learn it if we’re gonna be up here for a few months.”

“I’m an idiot and I learned it so you’ll do just fine picking it up,” he said. 

“So where’d you learn in the first place?”

“I’m stuffed,” you said, plopping your napkin from your lap onto the table awhile later. Jensen took the last bite of the piece of mouse pie, licking his lips as he finished. “This might have been the best alfredo I’ve ever had.”

“I enjoyed it. Mostly I enjoyed listening to you talk,” he said. You blushed and looked away, Jensen letting out a small hum. “It’s funny. Doesn’t really feel like just a second date, does it.”

“No, not really,” you said. “I guess that’s what happens when you’re friends first.”

“Well I definitely like being friends with you,” he said. 

“Me too, Jensen.” 

“Want to get out of here?” he asked. You smiled and nodded, the two of you outside a few minutes later wrapped up in your coats. Your feet were cold in just your heels, Jensen’s arm wrapping around your waist when you almost slipped more than once. It was slow going back to the car, especially when it started to snow lightly.

“You know, that dress would still look hot with winter boots,” he chuckled. 

“Sorry,” you said.

“No apology necessary. I got freaking dress shoes on and my feet are cold. I can’t imagine how you’re holding up,” he said.

“The perils of being a woman,” you said.

“Well, no need to impress me is all I’m saying. I ain’t looking at your feet anyways,” he said.

“Oh well in that case I’ll wear some nice baggy sweats next date.”

“Please do,” he said. 

“You really don’t care, do you.”

“I think you look beautiful tonight. But I think you look beautiful every night. You did your hair and makeup and this is stunning, don’t get me wrong. But she’s not more beautiful than the girl at home with hair tossed up all messy walking around in oversized shirts and leggings. It’s like flowers. Both are pretty but one isn’t more pretty than the other.”

“Where the fuck did I find you?”

“At my house,” he chuckled. You whacked his arm and leaned your head on his shoulder. “Almost back to the car. I’ll blast the heat for us when we’re in there.”

“Thanks Jensen.”

“Thank you for the date, honey. I mean it. We’ll do it again sometime. Promise.”

Saturday Night

“Your boyfriend seems pissed,” said Brandon. You sipped up the last of your beer, glancing over to the bar where Jensen was tapping his finger. 

“He’s fine,” you said. “So any good parks around the west side of town?”

“Center Grove is always my choice. Good playground, nice area, cops routinely are around. Parking can kinda be a bitch sometimes but it’s worth it in my opinion. My kids love it.”

“You’ve been their nanny for five years you said?”

“Mhm,” he said, knocking back the last of his drink. “Shawn’s mom is their mom’s best friend.”

“Oh. So you had an in already.”

“You know long term gigs are the way to go in this job,” he said. “Not too many American girls come up here. Your accent is cute.”

“Is it, eh?” you chuckled.

“Like I’ve never heard that one before,” he said, Jensen walking back with two beers and a clenched jaw. 

“You okay?” you asked as he sat it down in front of you.

“I’m fine,” he said, taking a long sip. Brandon slid off his seat and made a face. 

“I need a refill anyways. Nice meeting you Y/N. We gotta hang some time,” he said as he walked away.

“For sure,” you said, Jensen rolling his eyes behind his back. “Jensen what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he said.

“Well you obviously have a problem with Brandon.”

“I don’t have a problem with him. I have a problem with my girlfriend flirting with another guy.”

“I was not flirting. I’m trying to make new friends. It was your idea to come to this thing tonight anyways.”

“Whatever,” he scoffed.

“Excuse me?”

“In case I wasn’t clear, I’m not the kind of guy where I’m okay with you dating multiple people at once. I don’t get that not exclusive shit.”

“I’m with you and only you. I was being nice. Geez, let’s just go,” you said. You got up and pulled your coat on, bumping into a guy on the way out. He turned and apologized, staring at you a little long.

“Y/N?” he asked, a big smile on his face. “My Y/N?”

“Dad?” you said, his face much older looking than you remembered but his eyes still the same.

“Dad?” said Jensen. You brushed past your dad and outside, Jensen hot on your heels. 

“Y/N,” your dad said as he left the bar. 

“Stay away from me,” you said. “Jensen I want to go home right now.”

“What-”

“Right fucking now!”

He held up his hands and you walked around the block to the car, getting inside and Jensen taking off.

“So your dad’s alive huh,” he said. You stared out the dark window with crossed arms. “So is everything I know about you bullshit?”

“What?”

“Is literally anything you’ve ever told me true? Your dad obviously didn’t die when you were a kid. All those late night talks about family and shit, you just like to fuck with people or something?”

“I was not flirting with Brandon you asshole. You didn’t need to know my whole life story the second I meet you.”

“Oh. Okay. Just your fake life story then, huh?” he said. You shook your head as he got stuck at a red light. “If I can’t trust you, I can’t employ you let alone date you.”

“Whatever,” you said. He drove in silence until you were out of the city, going along quieter roads. You were close to the house when he suddenly turned right towards the local park and stopped in the lot, putting the car in park. He touched your arm and you turned, Jensen leaning over and kissing you roughly, far more roughly than you thought he was capable of. You blinked when he pulled back, Jensen looking you up and down. 

“He won’t hurt you.”

“What?”

“Did he walk out on you and your mom?” he asked. “You told him to stay away from you. Sort of shouted it at him. Maybe you lied but maybe...I’m sorry I got jealous of Brandon. I’m still scared and I think you’re still scared too and that’s okay. If you lied about your dad, I’m gonna trust you have a good reason for it. I’m sorry for what I said. I trust you and I don’t want to know what my life is like without you in it.”

“It’s okay,” you said quietly. “I forgive you.”

“You don’t have to tell me what happened,” he said. “We can just go home, okay?”

“Why’d you pull over?”

“Because I knew I didn’t mean it and I knew I overreacted. I said I’d mess up when we started. It’s been a long time since I’ve done this. I’m 42 with three kids. Brandon is thirty and young and stronger than I am and can go out to the bar whenever he wants. You have options. You don’t have to settle for me.”

“If I’d wanted to settle, I’d have married my ex. What I wanted was the guy that forgives me for not telling him the whole story cause I’m not ready to say it. I want the guy that makes me happy and feel like I have a teenage crush but it’s deeper than that. You’re not the settle for option, Jensen. Why don’t you get that?”

“The last time I felt like this, I married the girl,” he said quietly. “That didn’t turn out so well.”

“You didn’t get the time you deserved with her. It doesn’t mean it ended badly. You loved her and she knew it. She wants you to be happy again, whether it’s me or somebody else.”

“See? That’s the shit that tells me...it tells me to keep falling for you. I’m so sorry for how I acted tonight.”

“I lied about my dad and not a little white one either,” you said with a nod. You turned away and felt his hand on your cheek. “So much of what I told you was a lie.”

“You don’t have to tell me the truth right now, Y/N.” He stroked your cheek and you glanced over, meeting his soft green eyes.

“My mom died giving birth to me,” you said, Jensen nodding. “He hated me for it. Hated me. He would hurt me when I was a toddler. When I was four he started doing...other things.”

“Four?” he breathed out.

“I didn’t know it wasn’t normal. Not until I started school. I was scared though so I never said anything. One of my friends mom’s realized what was going on when I was over playing one day. He went away and lost custody. I went into foster care briefly and got adopted when I was eight. Single mom who’d lost her husband young. That’s my mom. She was a kind person. Ray was always good to her and to me. But I asked him not to adopt me after she was gone and he knew it was because I was still scared of a dad again. Being a nanny, I’ve met fathers that look at me and I just know what was going through their head. I reported him and kinda fucked up their family situation but-”

“That was the right thing to do,” he said.

“I know it was. I’ve just...I’ve had more than one guy and even a woman walk in on me changing or into my bathroom and it’s like, she’s just the help, nobody cares. They don’t touch so it’s like...what can I even do? Then my house before this one, the guy tried getting in my shower with me and I shoved him and he broke his arm and I just don’t understand why so many people think I’m just a piece of meat. Even my ex never got why it bothered me so much. They didn’t touch me so what was wrong with it? He just didn’t get it. He would get mad if I wasn’t in the mood for sex. Nobody ever fucking gets it except you who I lied to and pissed off tonight and without a word of an explanation why, you say you won’t let somebody hurt me. Do you get why you’re the opposite of fucking settling Jensen?”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“I know you won’t Jensen.”

“How?”

“Because you’re a good person. You’re so gentle and kind. I know you’re strong and tough but I see it everyday. You should never be worried about how your kids will turn out. If they are half as good as you are they’ll be fucking great people. Your daughters aren’t gonna put up with shit and your son is gonna be kind to everyone and say fuck you to the toxic guys out there. I can already tell the kind of person you are through them and it’s a good one. A really good one.”

“I’m not the only good person in their lives,” he said. You sniffled and looked down, Jensen’s hand sliding under your chin and tilting it up. “You don’t have to apologize for not telling me all of that. Never apologize for not telling me that. Okay?”

“I never told anyone about…the other stuff,” you said, wanting to look down but Jensen’s hand holding your chin up.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m sorry it took you so long to find people that would protect you.”

“You mean…” He nodded and dropped his hand away, running it over your head. “You’re not gonna like, go back and kick his ass are you?”

“Want me to? I’m very tempted at the moment,” he said.

“I just want to go home. I could use one of those hugs right now.”

“Do you want to stay with me tonight? Just to stay, nothing more.” You nodded and he kissed your forehead, a tiny smile crossing your face. Ten minutes later you were home and the babysitter was gone, Jensen pulling you into his room next to yours. You blew your nose in his bathroom and washed off your face, lifting your head to find a pair of your pajama shorts and one of his shirts on the vanity beside you. He smiled as he ducked out, leaving you to change. You let your hair down and took off your bra before you walked out and saw his blanket on the opposite side of the bed. “Warm enough?”

You spun around as he walked inside and you nodded, Jensen pulling you into a hug. 

“I’m sorry for how I was at the bar,” you said.

“I was the one that overreacted, not you,” he said. You felt goosebumps on your arms and he pulled away to turn up the heat, nodding over to the bed. The covers were flung back and you climbed underneath, Jensen getting in on his side. His arm wrapped over your waist and pulled your chest close to his, face only inches away. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore. No one will hurt you again. I promise.”

You moved closer to him, resting your forehead against his.

“Remember last Saturday when we were on the trampoline and you talked about those safety nets,” you said.

“Yes, I do.”

“You’re a really good net,” you said softly.

“So are you,” he murmured. He kissed the tip of your nose and you shut your eyes. “What’d you want to be when you were little?”

“A princess,” you said. He chuckled and you smiled. “I wanted a prince to come take me away and everything would be just fine.”

“Really?”

“Princesses were always happy at the end of the movie,” you said. “They got the boy and they were happy. Then I grew up and prince charming doesn’t exist.”

“Cause you’re not a damsel in distress. You didn’t need the prince to save you.”

“But the prince would have made life so much easier.”

“I’m partial to badass princesses myself,” he said. You opened your eyes and he was smiling.

“I’ve never noticed your freckles before.”

“They come out more when I spend some time in the sun.” You moved a hand up and traced under his eye, Jensen nuzzling into his pillow. “Make you a deal. If the badass princess saves me, the scared prince will save her too.”

“Okay,” you said. You kissed him lazily, Jensen smiling through it. 

“Do you want to be a nanny forever?”

“Not forever. It’s an easy way to feel like you have a family when you don’t.”

“Now you do,” he said.

“Jensen you don’t know if this will work out.”

“I do and you do and we’ll take it slow anyways,” he said. “Which is why I’m asking do you want to be a nanny forever.”

“Why?”

“Because maybe someday I won’t need one,” he said. 

“I thought about being an elementary school teacher when I was eighteen for a hot second.”

“You did? You’d be amazing.”

“Pay in Texas is crap though. I make more as a nanny.”

“If money wasn’t an issue though, would you want to be a teacher still?”

“Anything at all?” you asked, Jensen nodding, nose brushed against yours. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“You okay?” he asked, reluctantly letting you out of bed.

“I’m good. I want to show you something,” you said. You slipped out of the room and down the hall to the playroom, picking up a book. Jensen was sat up in bed when you returned and crawled under the covers. You handed him the book and he smiled.

“I don’t remember buying this,” he said, flipping it over. “There’s no serial code on it.”

“You can’t buy it. I wrote a children’s book and printed a few copies for myself,” you said.

“You wrote a book?” he asked, flipping through it. “Did you draw this?”

“Yeah,” you said, Jensen staring at you. “I don’t know if it’s any good. I never tried publishing it.”

“You want to write children’s books, don’t you?” he said, starting to read the story.

“I have a number of them written out. I would make up the stories for kids at bedtime and decided to write them down. It’s kinda like whinnie the poo, that age group, you know? Same group of characters but different stories,” you said.

“These are adorable,” he said, turning another page. You were quiet while he read through for a few minutes, Jensen smiling when he shut the book. “I’ve never read a children’s book where they deal with the loss of a parent.”

“The kids really like it,” you said.

“You should publish this. Seriously. It’s cute and I’m a grown ass man and it made me feel better about Dee.”

“It’s just a story,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck.

“I make stories for a living. This whole place would fall apart without stories. This is good. You should consider trying to get it published.”

“Maybe if that nanny job doesn’t work out I will,” you said. 

“Do you mind if I keep this?” he asked.

“Not at all. I gave it to JJ in the first place.”

“Thanks. I want to read this to the twins tomorrow,” he said. He set it on the nightstand and slid back down, pulling you with him. “Why’d the mom fox die in the story? I would have expected the dad wolf considering…”

“Wish fulfillment for a nice father,” you said. “Plus I like drawing the wolf.”

“I like him. He’s fluffy,” chuckled Jensen. “Is that why you asked if I carry a picture of my kids when we met?”

“I’m done with asshole parents. If they treat their kids like shit they sure as hell aren’t gonna treat me any better. You seemed like a good guy. Good guys tend to do that kind of thing.”

“I’m not always good.”

“Yeah, you are,” you said. You shut your eyes and nuzzled close to him, Jensen letting out a soft hum. “You okay? With me being here.”

“Very. Feeling better after everything that happened?”

“Mhm,” you said. “I’m still sorry I lied to you.”

“Did you ever lie about your mom?” he asked. “I mean aside from the fact she adopted you, did you lie about her?”

“No.”

“Then you didn’t lie, not really. I’m sorry it came out like that. You should have been able to tell me in your own time.”

“You still would have been angry,” you said. 

“I still would have come to my senses too. I’m not perfect. I never was.”

“I don’t want someone perfect,” you said. Your head rested against his chest and you let out a soft sigh.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said. He kissed the top of your head and tucked it under his chin, adjusting the blankets once before he stilled.

“Goodnight, Jensen.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 6 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #rpf #jensen series #rpf series #jensen ackles x reader #spn fanfic #jensen fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

[whet-ones-write]

Baku Birthday 2021

So I’m posting this a /little/ early because I’m just too excited to share this fic! So I joined in with Bakugou’s Birthday Bash hosted by these amazing people!!

@phasmwrites​ @katsukikitten @bakugotrashpanda​ @lady-bakuhoe​ @jodrawssmut​ & @ramen-rambles​ 

And since joining I couldn’t have found a more supporting and helpful group on Discord!! Special thanks to: @hoe-doroki​ for being my beta reader and editor!! Thank you for dealing with my sorry, inconsistant ass and giving me the strength to pull though and just do some of my best writing to date! I haven’t written so much in so long and it was rather nice!! 

And to @notchesandbullets​ for telling me I can do this and be those words of praise when I needed them the most helping me pull though and finish this!

Contains: DragonShifter!Reader x Bakugou. Fantasy Setting,

WC: 3755 - Masterlist to all the works!!

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, oral (Female + M reviecing), Cowgirl, unprotected sex, Cum eating, Premature Ejaluations (if you squint), Age gap? It’s implied Reader is much older than Katsuki. Restraining Katsuki, Pervert Kiri

Looking around his throne, Katsuki couldn’t help but scoff at what came to his mind. He had everything a chief could want, but it still wasn’t enough for the young, barbaric male. Vast and grand was his home. People were happy, going about their day, harvest due and bountiful, the river running steady and clean. 

Though, he was still missing a vital element to his life. Someone to make him happy, to have by his side and call his own. So the only thing he had left to need or want was someone to walk into battle with him, because not just any person would. 

No, they had to have a few key traits to meet his standards. They needed to have a willingness to fight, to want to protect those around him and themselves with everything they had. They had to be able to take flack and a joke but also be serious when the time came. They had to be able to take no shit from anyone and make sure to be willing to put others in their place if they went out of line.

It wasn’t much! Honestly…Or at least he thought so. 

“...ugou, Bakugou!” A voice snapped him from his thoughts as he glanced at his adviser, unhappy over the fact he was interrupted from his thoughts. 

“What is it?” Katsuki questioned as he lazily shifted his attention to the man standing at his right side. 

“As I was saying, there have been some sightings of strangely coloured dragons in the nearby valleys. We do not know if it is one or more or if they’re passing by or staying. Moreover, they have yet to attack the villages, but it would be wise to at least investigate the surrounding areas before anything happens,” his assistant spoke as he looked for what the King was going to do. 

Taking a moment, Katsuki couldn’t help but smile as he got up and began to stretch. “Eijirou, prepare for a flight. It seems there might be someone that needs a reminder of who those valleys belong to.” 

Though to the Bakugou family dragons were revered and seen as good omens, there was a limit. Dragons that fought over territory could be destructive and wipe entire lands from existence, so if there was ever more than one in an area it could prove to be a bad omen instead.

One dragon or one family were seen as protecting the lands, keeping invaders at bay and being loyal by nature. Though another one could offset the balance, should they prove to be hungry or hostile. The valleys in which the Bakugous lived were famous for having the longest standing relationship with the red dragons of the Kirishima clan. They had served one another for generations with the latest duo being that of the Barbarian King Katsuki Bakugou, son of the late Chieftess Mitsuki Bakugou, and the dragon that protected the lands, Eijirou Kirishima, son to late Hikori Kirishima.

Standing at seven feet, the mostly human nodded and saluted as he walked with his friend outside. “Yes, sir.” He beamed happily, seemingly excited by the prospect of seeing another dragon. “Though, what are your instructions, should they prove hostile?” 

“Hostile?” Katsuki mused, placing a hand to his chin as the other morphed into that of a forty-foot-long dragon from the tip of his nose to the very end of his arrow-pointed tail. Once finished, Kirishima leaned down to lower his wing, letting Katsuki get on by walking up the thin bone of the arch of his wing and holding onto his spines, climbing all the way to behind the red horns that adorned his head. “Should the dragon wish to try and stay, we will start through the diplomatic route.” 

That was the thing about Katsuki. For all his bloodlust and anger, he was quite the strategist when it came to monsters several times his size. Having worked with Eijirou for some time, they had built up a bond of trust valuable for when trouble arose. 

“Should that fail, we will have to take things up a notch. I would like to avoid a fight if at all possible.” He sighed as he clung to the horn while the other took off. “The valley is full of fish making their way upstream for the breeding season,” he muttered before groaning and slapping his face as he remembered something, getting even more irritated. 

“It could be a female dragon,” he groaned, looking down to Eijirou. “With breeding season approaching, it could prove very troublesome,” he grumbled as he lay down to keep low as Eijirou took to the sky. 

“Hm,” came a deep rumble from the beast.

A female dragon would be far better than a male should they be able to move it along. It could prove worse in the long run, though, as other males came to try and have their chance, destroying the local landscape fighting over the female. 

“Not going to be influenced? I know you’re a young male.” Katsuki snickered as the dragon grunted and shook slightly in a ‘no’. “Don’t worry, whatever happens we’ll sort it,” he offered quietly as he calmed down to focus on the mission at hand. 

They took to the base of the mountains and looked for any signs of disturbance. With fear running though the nearest village, it was clear to see that the crops were half unattended and in the middle of being harvested. “I’m going to go take a look at the surrounding areas and talk to the locals. You go on up the mountain and scout that out,” the Chief commanded. With a short huff and a nod, Eijirou turned to slowly and carefully make his way up and around the mountains. 

It wasn’t long before Eijirou returned with some news. Meeting in the center of town, the dragon descended slowly and waited for Katsuki to approach before he spoke. “I found a trail of blood from the ground leading up to a cave roughly halfway up the mountain. 

Nodding, Katsuki signaled for Eijirou to lower himself so he could climb onto his back. “Sounds about right. The locals saw a figure flying unsteadily across the sky and into the mountain. There was a loud thump before all went silent. It’s more than likely a dragon. It hasn’t done harm to the villagers yet, though, so a slow, quiet and careful approach is needed.”

Coming to the entrance of the cave, Katsuki hopped off Eijirou, immediately noticing the plants had been recently crushed and a splattering of dried blood was leading into the cave. Looking up to Eijirou, he nodded and quietly led the way in. Eijirou used a small breath to light the torch that Katsuki would have to use to see. 

It didn’t take them long to find the cause of the blood and crushed plants. Lying in front of them was a bronze dragon just as large as Kirishima, if not bigger, bleeding heavily from it’s hind leg, belly and face. 

“Holy shit,” Katsukimuttered as he looked over the sight. He froze as the dragon raised its head. Chuckling, you looked over at Katsuki and Eijirou. “If you have come to kill me, at least make it swift.” 

“Tch, don’t lump me with most humans,” Katsuki stated as he approached you, looking over the wounds. A huffing could be heard as he made his way closer, your muscles tense and beady eyes watching his form, ready to attack should harm come. “I’m a Bakugou. We don’t harm your kind.” 

“You may not harm but you enslave. I feel sorry for the red scaled one over there. Forced to serve you like their ancestors,” you mumbled, laying your head down and closing your eyes to rest. 

Eijirou huffed before he sat down. “I’m not. It’s nice to have lands that we don’t have to fight over and live in harmony with humans,” he protested, watching as Katsuki assessed the wounds. “I am from the Kirishima clan.” He beamed, almost a little too excited to say so. “It’s nice to see another shade of red around here. Normally those of the Shinsou clan are around these areas.” Eijirou started, tilting his head to the side. “So what brings you here?” he mused. 

Which was how you explained your side of the story. It wasn’t uncommon for humans to attack those of draconic race because of the first dragons causing havoc and turmoil for humankind. You were a young dragon who still had not found some land to live in. So, you were aimlessly looking around for somewhere to sleep before you were ambushed by a kingdom that had a bad past with dragons, driving you out. 

“Well,” Katsuki started as he backed off. “If you revert into your human form, we can take you back and give you medical aid. I’m not about to let a creature like you just die pathetically cold and alone in such a depressing state.” 

With that, they watched as your form changed into a bloodstained, corseted, sleeveless dress, wings still visible with a tail barely peeking from beneath your long skirt. Their eyes lingered for a little too long to be completely respectful.  

Getting up from where he lay, Eijirou gently enclosed you in his claws, protecting you, letting Katsuki onto his back before taking off back to the kingdom to give you the aid you needed. 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The next thing you knew, you were waking up to some argument going on outside, though you took no heed to it. After all, you would need to at least stay to repay the kindness the human has shown you before taking your leave. 

As the flap to the tent opened, you looked up at the figure that came to inspect you in the cot. “How are you feeling?” The one that entered had torn red wings and a thin arrow-headed tail much like that of the dragon you’d seen earlier. 

“Much better, thanks.” He watched you as you got up to move around.

“Yeah, my mother is a great healer.” The man beamed proudly before his face dropped for a moment in realisation. “Oh, that’s right! I’m Eijirou Kirishima!” He offered a hand for you to shake as he introduced yourself. “I’m Katsuki’s dragon companion. Speaking of which, when you feel up to it, he wants to see you in the throne room. He’s currently occupied with some business, so why not come later tonight before dinner? He wants to talk to you about some things.”

“Ah I see” You nodded in agreement though still clearly wary of him. 

“Yeah, my mom specialises in herbal and magical treatments for dragons. You should be fighting fit by the end of day! So enjoy yourself and have a look around! You’re more than welcome here as long as you don’t kill anyone.” You found yourself chuckling lightly along with him as he waved. “See ya! Rest up well and don’t push yourself too hard!” He beamed as he left. 

As Eijirou left you alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t help but think back to just how trustingly and kindly Katsuki had treated you. Taking your leave from the tent, you looked to the sky to gauge the time of day. Deciding you had at least an hour before the sun would set and you would need to see the Chieftain, you went to see what the town had to offer.

As you walked among the townsfolk, you couldn’t help but notice that dragons and humans walked around one another as if that were a normal thing to do. Had things always been like this? And how had this not spread to other countries? Though be that as it might, you were happy for these people; they seemed to be comfortable and welcoming just like the man who had found you. Perhaps you could stay a little longer than intended… 

Still, once the sun started to set you walked back the way you came only to come across a tent larger than most, assuming that was where Katsuki would be wrapping up the day. 

You slowly opened the flap as some villagers came out, happily discussing the day’s harvest before you heard. “Come on in, dragon!” Katsuki called as he remained seated on his chair smirking to himself. “Feeling better, I see?” he questioned as he sat up straight. Even like this, you could see and feel the power he irradiated. 

“Yes, much, thank you.” Bowing, you smiled before you were told to stand upright. “If there’s anything I can do for you, please just let me know. It’s the least I can do after you saved my life.” 

The moment those words left your mouth, you had a feeling that you were either going to live to regret it or thank him.

“Speaking of which,” he started as he leaned back and patted his lap. “Please, come here,” he commanded. Once you approached, he leaned forward, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger as if inspecting you. Up close, you could just see how deep ruby red his eyes were as well as how sharp his teeth were. For a human, he had a great set of fangs on him. ‘Shame he’s a human; he would have made a great and fierce dragon,’ you couldn’t help but think before he spoke, bringing you back to reality. 

“Yes, you’re perfect,” he muttered, pulling you into his lap forcefully by your waist. “Strong willed, a fighter, and someone I could learn to grow better with,” he stated as he suddenly captured your lips. “You will be my partner,” he stated as his hands wandered low. 

Spluttering and blushing, you thrust your arms at his chiseled chest, putting some distance between the two of you. “B-But how do you know? I could kill you! You barely know me,” you protested, though with his power he forced you to fold your arms, leaning in to whisper. 

“But you owe me your life. Surely this is nothing and if you don’t feel like you’re the one you’re more than welcome to leave,” he purred.

You knew he was right. This young, powerful man knew that dragons didn’t back down on their word, and so serving him would mean repaying the debt? A small price to pay, truly. 

“So why not get on your knees for your Chief and thank me properly?” he offered, leaning back and letting go of you. You watched as the grin on his face was almost ear splitting as you sunk to your knees in front of him. He let his hands wander down his trousers to help you get them off and down to his ankles. 

“That’s it,” he praised, reaching out to gently lay his hand on your head. His eyes watched you with keen interest as you slowly took him into your mouth. He wasn’t completely hard and you shifted to get a better angle and grip him in your hands, though he tried to encourage you with soft words. “That’s it, fuckin’ take it all in,” he muttered as he leaned back, getting more comfortable on his throne. The grasp on your hair got tighter as he started to get impatient and guide your face along his length. “Come on now, no need to be so shy about it.” His teeth showed as he smiled. “You’ve lived longer than I have, surely you have the experience?” he goaded. Which, if you were honest with yourself, was true. You were most likely older than him, and could show him a thing or two while you’re at it. 

Straightening your back a little from the floor you looked over his hardening dick. Licking your lips, you took the head in, using the flexibility to weave in between the head of his cock and the shaft before leaning up and taking it in as much as you could. Tongue flat, running along the thick vein underneath, you slowly bobbed your head back and forth, breathing when you could. It wasn’t long before you felt a tug with the hand that ran through your hair to pull you away from him, leaving you panting, and breathless from working so hard to please him. 

His cheeks flushed a bright pink he chuckled almost as breathlessly as you, having forgotten how to breathe in the moment before letting go of your hair. “What a good girl,” he praised as he shifted back and patted his lap.  “Why not come for a ride?” he questioned as he watched you stand. “I would have taken you back to my room, but I'm feeling impatient. It’s my birthday after all,” he informed, eyes hungrily watching over your form as you stripped naked, and then worked on taking off his trousers completely. 

“Your birthday?” you questioned him as you straddled his lap. “I see. Perhaps this will be enough of a gift then?” you mused lining yourself up, slowly trying to sink yourself down on him.

His head slammed back against the back of his throne as he groaned. You were taking your time, though as you hadn’t prepared yourself. You knew your body could and would stretch, but it was painful to begin with. He was stretching you to your limit, but you licked your hand to reach down to let the saliva coating his dick for an easier entry only then were you able to sit down fully on his lap. 

Taking a good minute or two you both sat, panting, just feeling one another as you got used to the stretch of his cock within you. His hands empassing your hips, he tried to get you to move, but you had other ideas. It was his birthday? That’s just fine, but you would make sure it would be a ride he wouldn’t forget in a hurry. 

You gently grasped his hands and took them off your hips to raise them above his head as you started to roll your hips back and forth. Leaning in close to kiss him and to distract him, you used your tail to wrap his hands above his head. He only just realised when you leaned back.

“W-What the fuck is—shit—the big idea?” he panted as his eyes were glued to your form, which started moving so effortlessly up and down on his dick. 

“It’s your birthday. I want to spoil you, so enjoy the ride.” Chuckling a little darkly, you couldn’t help but use your wings to give you some extra momentum and power into your movements as you rode him. 

He couldn't believe just how lucky he was to have such a beautiful person ride him within an inch of his life. You knew just what to do and how to please him, which, to his embarrassment, had him orgasming not much longer after you started. 

“F-Fuck!” he grunted, unable to couldn’t help it when his hips met yours. Though your gut had only just started to coil with your own orgasm, much to your disappointment. You remained seated on his lap as he came down from his high, letting go of his arms. 

He watched you only to frown. Noticing you hadn’t orgasmed yet he couldn’t help but feel like a teenager all over again. 

This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all. 

Growling, he forcefully lifted you up from him as he slid to the floor, getting you to sit in his seat. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he brought you to his face and started to lap up not only at his own cum that had started to seep it’s way out from the confines of yourself, but searching for any original taste of your own essence. This surprise had you leaning over with a groan. In all your years, no other man had been so willing about doing this. 

Smirking from the inside of your thighs, he knew from your expression that you were loving it or at the very least surprised by his movements. “What?” he questioned, so close to your cunt that you could feel his breath ghosting it. “Never been eaten out before?” He seemed a little too smug, as if he almost already knew the answer. 

With a shake of your head, he only shifted closer and got more comfortable as he nudged your clit with his nose. “Hmm, good. I'm a man starving for pussy and it’s delicious, so don’t mind me,” he muttered before his gaze lowered. 

Though his dick felt great, this was almost a thousand times better. There was no painful stretch, only a soft muscle, though not deep. The slurping and sucking sounds and sensations were what quickly brought your end. He was more than happy to guide you though your high as you remained hunched over his head, hands which you now realised were in his hair, forcing his face just that much closer. 

Leaning back once you had come back to Earth, you watched him as he wiped his chin and cheeks with the back of his arm. “Thank you for the meal.” He chuckled, giving off a lopsided smile, showing off the pearly whites of his sharp teeth. He stood as he gathered up his trousers as he got dressed. “You’re more than welcome to stay for dinner in my home,” he stated as he turned to you and passed you back your clothes. 

Slowly taking them, you nodded as you got dressed despite the shake in your legs. “Y-Yeah, I think I will,” you confirmed as you slipped back into your clothes. 

“Good choice. I’m not finished with you yet, beautiful.” Leaning in, he kissed your cheek before taking his leave only to find a very flustered Eijirou waiting outside. “Something wrong?” Katsuki questioned with folded arms, knowing exactly what he was doing. 

“N-No!” the dragon protested, though the redness that was spread all the way up to his ears gave him away. 

“Next time, just ask. It’s rude to eavesdrop.” Katsuki laughed as he walked away, going to join the mass for dinner. 

“K-Katsuki! I had to make sure you were safe! After all, she’s a rogue dragon,” Eijirou protested in earnest. Though he wouldn’t admit it, that would be something that Eijirou would very much like to do. 

“Sure, sure, whatever you say, man.”

Rolling his eyes, Katsuki took a seat at the head of the banquet table, waiting for your arrival before the festivities could begin.

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[ilikekidsshows]

how much do you think Adrien and Marinette's relationship developed from season 1 to 3 ?

Very well, as a self-professed connoisseur of all things slowburn, let me go over the Adrinette development that has happened in the show up until the season three finale and educate this fandom on the subtle beauty that is the Adrinette arc. This is gonna be long, because, apparently, there's a lot of material to cover, because this relationship can fit so much development into it.

Let's go in chronological order (as far as I can tell). In 'Origins', Marinette first started becoming a stuttering mess around Adrien when he opened up to her about how he wanted to make friends, becoming infatuated with the sensitive side he showed. Meanwhile, Adrien is excited over the prospect of having made a friend.

In 'The Bubbler', Marinette only manages to get out an awkward "hey," at Adrien and Adrien mimics her, in lack of a better response. He barely seems to know her at this point.

Marinette begins her infatuation with Adrien by simply thinking about him and fantasizing about him. In 'Stormy Weather' we hear Marinette's daydream, fully fleshed out on the details of what their children should be named, but not sure what their pet should be. Adrien seems pleased to see Marinette, but doesn't seek her out, also maintaining some distance.

Then comes 'Mr. Pigeon'. Adrien finds out Marinette is into designing and is taken aback by her verbal floundering. He also didn't know Marinette's last name. When he introduces Marinette to his father, there's an awkward silence after, like he'd finished the sentence too early, because he did, he never said her last name. Adrien knew Marinette existed, and was interested to know more about her, but that's it. Meanwhile Marinette speaks complete nonsense to Adrien, unable to remember what words even are.

In 'Evillustrator' Adrien seeks Marinette out of his own volition, having the perfect conversation starter in her encounter with Cat Noir. He wants to know what she thinks of him. Meanwhile, Marinette manages to get full, coherent sentences out, but keeps saying contradicting things. Adrien responds to Marinette with a drawn out "okay," starting to learn to just go with it and, at the end of the interaction, pats Marinette's shoulder companionably as he leaves. He thinks they're familiar enough for him to touch her casually, he was just waiting for the chance because he’s so touch-starved.

'Horrificator' doesn't actually show Adrien and Marinette interacting directly outside the acting scenes, where Adrien is very receptive to having Marinette as his co-star, but Adrien gets to see Marinette at her best, helping people out and solving problems. This episode is where Adrien starts to form his opinion of Marinette as someone dependable.

In 'Animan', Adrien knows Nino likes Marinette and is fully supportive. He's convinced Marinette would be receptive to Nino just acting natural and not doing anything special, so he thinks Marinette is a kind and warm person. He has no reason to think Marinette is into him instead. Marinette fumbles around Adrien again, and this time Adrien doesn't react at all: he's used to it.

In 'Kung Food', Adrien rushed to help Marinette the instant he heard from Alya that Marinette needed help. Marinette manages to get her meaning across even as she fumbles. When they have a discussion about Marinette's uncle, Marinette doesn't stutter once, and Adrien holds Marinette's shoulders when he comforts her. They managed to keep to casual interactions during the episode because they have other things to focus on.

In 'Gamer', Adrien is very casual around Marinette, inviting himself over to practise the game and being pretty frank about his insecurity as Marinette's gaming partner. Marinette responds first in a way that devalues Adrien's feelings ("No, you're amazing, I'm bad"), but eventually gives Adrien the lucky charm as a gesture of accepting him as her partner, a gesture Adrien will treasure for several episodes to come. Also, this episode has more casual shoulder-touching from Adrien to Marinette. (Aside note: Cat Noir later mimics Tom's body language in the episode, so Marinette's parents really made a first impression that stuck.)

In 'Volpina', Marinette shields Adrien from Fu's suspicions, but does briefly entertain the thought that Adrien might be Hawk Moth. This could be part of her catastrophizing or realizing she doesn't know him well enough to know for sure. Marinette also saves Adrien from his father, for Adrien's sake, not even revealing her own involvement in the matter to get closer to him. Marinette just wanted to help him out.

'Despair Bear' has Adrien protect Marinette from making a scene and making herself look bad, something he'll do again later in 'Chameleon'. Adrien sees it as his place to interfere for Marinette's benefit in this way and he thinks about the possible repercussions Marinette might have gotten from accusing Chloé publically without evidence. Adrien also instantly gets the idea to ask Marinette to dance when she bumps into him and decides to just roll with him when Alya arranges them into the typical "slow dance" position. At the end of the episode we see the first instance of Adrien invading Marinette's personal space by leaning in to talk to her. All in all, Adrien is just very comfortable around Marinette in this episode.

'Gigantitan' is more about Marinette learning not to overthink, something she didn't entirely learn as she prefers to abort the entire mission rather than enter a scenario with Adrien she hadn't considered. But we see Adrien offering Marinette a ride home even when his bodyguard is impatient. He really wants to do a favor for her.

'Riposte' has the second attempt from Marinette to simply spend time with Adrien, after 'Gamer'. She went into a lot of effort to learn fencing on time for the try-outs. She accidentally compliments Adrien to his face, who is very grateful for the nice things Marinette said about him. Caught off guard, Marinette fumbles once more, but manages to recover. Adrien laughs in enjoyment of the occasion and Marinette shares the laugh. Adrien keeps showing how comfortable he is with touching Marinette when he tutors her. Meanwhile, Marinette is very flustered, but manages to focus on what she's doing, doing well enough for Adrien to notice.

Adrien also questions Marinette's call as the referee, not concerned with Marinette's possible negative reaction and Marinette does respond honestly, showing Adrien that he can trust her judgement. Adrien also gushes about Marinette to Kagami, when he insists that Marinette didn't deny her the point to be mean, and the affection in his glowing endorsement has Kagami immediately note that Adrien likes her a lot.

In 'Befana' Adrien admits that he always carries Marinette's lucky charm with him, which inspired him to make one for her as a gift. The episode even ends with him looking at his own charm fondly, as the narration brings up "the person giving (the gift)", signalling that Adrien is specifically thinking about Marinette, who gave him the charm.

When Adrien asks Marinette for a safe place to hide in 'Gorizilla', Marinette gets over her stuttering very quickly when she realizes Adrien is in trouble to help him. Even in the subway Marinette is able to focus on Adrien possibly getting into trouble at home instead of getting flustered again. Adrien sidesteps the concern by playing the situation down, reminding Marinette that he does, indeed, always carry the lucky charm he got from her with him. At the movies he's more upfront to her about the restrictions he's placed under and why the movie is so important to him. Also, at no point does he point out Marinette is in her PJs, even though he definitely noticed. He probably just thinks it's a Marinette Thing.

'Frozer' has Marinette go all out for Adrien's sake, not because she wants to be with him, but because she wants to see him happy. She gives him advice on how to pursue another girl and asks Luka out on a double date to be there for him. On this occasion Marinette also shows how she's not as selfish over Adrien here as she was back in 'Gamer', when she was very willing to rob Max of something he really wanted in order to spend more time with Adrien. Meanwhile, Adrien gets distracted from his actual date when he wants to make sure Marinette is okay. When Plagg accuses him of "going after Marinette", Adrien is surprised by the suggestion, and assured Plagg that Marinette is just a friend.

An interesting thing to note is that Adrien actually sounds uncertain in 'Frozer' when he calls Marinette a friend, the one time he does so (at least in the English dub). This is why, when Marinette asks him to go skating with her sometime, he does entertain the thought of it just being just the two of them (aka, a date). However, when Marinette assures him it would be a friendly outing with other people too, the moment passes, and Adrien forgets his doubts and agrees to a friend outing. Plagg put the idea in his head, and Marinette could have sealed the deal. This is another occasion where Adrien pats Marinette's shoulder.

'Troublemaker' is the episode where Marinette's self-sabotage really gets going, when she "reassures" Adrien that she'd never consider him attractive in a romantic way ever. Meanwhile, Adrien once again invades Marinette's personal space and implies he doesn't mind modeling if it's for Marinette as he invites her to a photoshoot and says he's glad to have her as one of his fans.

In 'Style Queen', Marinette is actually open with Adrien about her insecurities and Adrien reassures her, and he supports her in 'Queen Wasp'. He also says he'd be able to model for her if she made it in the business, repeating his desire to model for her specifically that he first stated in 'Troublemaker'.

In 'Reverser' Marinette panics when suddenly encountered with Adrien and having to explain what she's doing, but Adrien gets the gist of it, having learned to interpret most of the word vomit Marinette produces and astutely claims: "That's typical of you," about Marinette helping someone out and offers his assistance if she needs any.

In 'Maledictator', Adrien is brave enough to let Marinette know he disagreed with the reason she and everybody else was happy. He doesn't pretend to be fine with the "good riddance, Chloé '' party because, just as Adrien knew, Marinette doesn't judge him for being sad to see Chloé leave.

In 'Heroes' Day', Adrien admits he came to the picnic to tell Marinette just how highly he values her. He shows how much attention he pays to all the times Marinette has helped their classmates and gives the iconic line "You're our everyday Ladybug". Marinette manages to gather up her courage to kiss Adrien on the cheek in response. This is also a notable moment when Adrien opts out of the usual shoulder pat, implying the gesture is something Adrien does to cut away the physical distance between himself and Marinette, since such a thing wasn't necessary in 'Heroes' Day'. (This boy is touch-starved, guys!)

In 'Chameleon' Adrien starts trying to play mediator between Lila and Marinette but, when that didn't work out, he once again protects Marinette from making a bad call with an opponent out to wreck her reputation, but he also acknowledges that Marinette had been wronged and decided to personally support her by sitting next to her since she'd been having such a tough time that day. He just wanted to support her like a friend would.

'Backwarder' has Marinette try to take the easy route of confessing through a letter, which predictably ends up not going as planned. But, as Adrien said, he spent all weekend making sure he could help Marinette with something he thought she really needed help with. Adrien just really wants to be able to do things for Marinette.

'Weredad' gives us an interesting glimpse into how Adrien views Marinette in relation to romance, noting that he "didn't think Cat Noir was her type". He's most likely referring to Luka, since he's the only guy Adrien has seen Marinette with, and Luka is quiet, contained and thoughtful, nothing like how Adrien presents himself as Cat Noir. However, since Adrien doesn't consider himself a candidate, he does most likely consider himself more like Cat Noir than Luka, aka, not Marinette's type.

'Desperada' has one of Marinette's worst freakouts in a while. Adrien showed up suddenly, and Kagami challenged her directly by saying: "Are you here to watch your boyfriend practise?" Marinette also tries to shoehorn Adrien into every situation, be it a guitarist or superhero, possibly as a subconscious attempt to gain more control of the situation with Kagami. As Tikki said, Marinette has a troubled heart in this episode.

'Chrismaster' shows off the fact that Marinette has tons of presents prepared for Adrien in advance for different occasions. These were most likely prepared during the early stages of her infatuation, when she was admiring him from afar and fantasizing about him. Making presents "just in case" fits the fantasy model. At this point, she’s embarrassed over having done it.

In 'Startrain', Adrien immediately relaxes into sleep as well when Marinette falls asleep on his shoulder. This boy is touch-starved, guys, and Marinette's touch in particular calms and soothes him. Similarly, when Marinette wakes up in the middle of their nap, she settles right back to continue sleeping, no panic in sight.

'Stormy Weather 2' shows Adrien connecting Marinette's handwriting from the note on his homework with the valentine he got, and all of the misunderstandings together convince him he was mistaken. "She's just a friend who loves fashion," Adrien says with a downtrodden face, disappointed that Marinette couldn't care for him as more than "a friend who's also in fashion". He thinks of Marinette insisting that she'd never be into him, and of Marinette and Luka skating together, with obvious chemistry between them. And, in the end, when he says it's just someone with similar writing, he sounds wistful.

'Party Crasher' has Adrien insist Marinette is one of his guys, clearly missing her when he's hanging out with his school friends. In fact, when she does show up unexpectedly, he looks very pleased.

'Puppeteer 2' is an episode that sets up obstacles for Adrinette in addition to the misunderstandings listed in ‘Stormy Weather 2’. Marinette finds out Adrien is in love with someone else, and Adrien tries to share more parts of himself with Marinette, only for it to end very badly. Adrien has been getting braver about expressing himself to Marinette, but it's mostly been his opinions so far. In 'Puppeteer 2' Adrien tries to joke around with Marinette, only for Marinette to end up mortified and crying. This convinced Adrien that there's a part of him that Marinette won't be able to accept so he'll have to hold back with her.

Meanwhile, Marinette overcorrects because Manon, as kids are wont to do, keeps airing out all of her dirty laundry regarding Adrien, and so she convinces Adrien he's lucky she even kinda likes him. Adrien connects this with the fact that apparently his sense of humor is something that Marinette hates enough to cry over it.

The rest of season 3 stays on the course set by ‘Puppeteer 2’. Adrien still cares about Marinette immensely, even if he's convinced she doesn't like him nearly as much. He puts himself on the line to protect her from Lila in 'Ladybug', and neither he nor Kagami consider Marinette's presence on their outing third-wheeling in 'Heart Hunter'. Meanwhile, Marinette is pulling away, convinced Adrien and Kagami are the perfect match.

There you go, that's the Adrinette development, broken down step by step, during the first three seasons. As you can see, it's actually quite a lot, and some people might even notice more development tidbits.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #adrinette #lovesquare #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #ml meta #long post #popular

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Sins of The Father - Chapter 28

Summary: Boba & Fennec learn some unsettling news; Amara informs Din about the village

A/N: Hello Lovelies,

Oh things are going to be getting interesting. Season Finale is coming up soon. Still debating between 30 and 31 chapters, but it might end up being 31. Simply thinking of presenting from two sides, the Amara side and then the Din side. Still working it out.  Thank you all so much for loving this story. You guys are amazing.

Love oo.

Bold - comms

Warning: Anger, talks about undercover work, fluff, angst, feelings of betrayal, feelings of guilt, hurt feelings, comfort, tears, I think that’s it, if I miss any let me know. 

AO3 Link |   Words: 6,762 |   Previous -> Next

Main Master List   |   Sins of the Father Master List

THE EXPLANATION

Boba sat in his office, his anger fuming under his armour, Fennec was beside him, her anger just as unbridled, the only restraining feature was their clenched hands resting near their blasters. 

“Are you certain about this?” Boba’s voice filled his office.

“Yes, Great Boba” Crasea answered, swallowing the nervousness, due to his connections he had asked questions about his ex-boss, giving the impression he was trying to work from the inside of Boba’s organization to bring it down. The information he found, simply made the meeting he had with Boba tenuous. 

“The Pyke’s released him” Boba clarified

“Yes, but not Marg Krim, another man within the Pyke’s he’s hoping if his forthright thinking pays off, they’ll give him the title of Daimyo here on Tatooine.”

“They want another war” Fennec let out, remembering the charred remains of Madame Garsa’s casino, the dead that were carried out from the smoking ruins. 

“I think it’s more strategic, they know they’d lose an all out war with you, everyone in Mos Eisley and Mos Espa would be quick to fight for you, Great Boba, even Freetown would join in. However, if you were to start a fight with them …”

“No one would come to my aid” Boba finished, watching as Crasea nodded his head. 

“Do we know where this man is?”

“He’s gone underground, deep. I’ve heard whispers of him trying to rebuild a crew, but it seems it’s slow going. Without any resources, there’s not a lot of people willing to lay their life down with no prospect of credits.”

“Well that should buy us some time” Fennec offered. 

“Question is if it’s strategic, who’s he striking?”

“Could be anyone” Crasea stated, “apparently he’s keeping his plans close to his chest, he doesn’t want anyone to know unless you have vowed to join him.”

Boba nodded, “There’s one option” he said as he glanced up to Fennec. 

She knew what he was thinking, “Face too recognizable”  

“Not you”

“Possibly”

“Incorruptible?”

“Time will tell”

“Risky?”

“Breathing is risky”

Boba chuckled, “True.”

Crasea was lost in this form of communication, there was a lot being said without a lot of words. He watched as both of his superiors turned to look at him, Boba leaning closer, his elbows resting on the desk in front of him, “Crasea, I have a job for you, it’ll be dangerous, you won’t be able to communicate with us often, only once ever couple of days. It would mean, you would be unable to trust anyone.”

“You want me to go undercover with Billie”

“Kid catches on quick” Fennec teased.

“You willing?”

“For you Great Boba, of course”

“Good. I want you to go back to him, we’ll give you a very convincing cover story,” Boba chuckled, “we’ll set you up with a secure comm link, we’ll have an extraction ready to go if you feel you are in imminent danger.”

“As my Lord Boba wishes, I am willing to fulfill” Crasea vowed vehemently, “What would you have me do?”

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

Amara sat in the cockpit, looking at the hyperspace lane in front of her, Din had gone to bed a while ago, she was sitting there with her tea, just admiring the blue light. When they had left Sorgan, he seemed happier, lighter, he told her the conversation with Omera went well. He even made her dinner, served it to her, and sat with her having a very enjoyable conversation about planets they each had visited, some of the best places to find parts for ships, some of the most beautiful scenery they each had seen. Somehow the conversation turned at one point to the idea of finding a place to live out quietly forever. 

She wasn’t sure what he was trying to get at, but he said he could see himself in a place like Paspr, living out his days, enjoying peace with his own children, whether foundlings or natural children. Before she knew what she was saying, she agreed with him, ideally it would be nice to live like that, but truth was she would’ve been bored out of her mind, she needed something else, something to keep her active. Din chuckled stating he wouldn’t mind a rest from all the running around he’d been doing and would gladly look after his kids if his riduur wanted to keep hunting; he would understand and respect it. The conversation died at that point, Amara standing to wash the dishes, ushering him to the cockpit to eat his own meal. After that they both fell into a comfortable silence, until he said he was going to rest for a little bit. 

Amara played the conversation over again, was he trying to tell her something? Trying to gauge what she was feeling for him? Maybe he was just talking in general terms, just because they said they cared about each other, and were protective of each other didn’t necessarily mean it was going to work out. Especially, since they agreed to head to the village once they got back to Tatooine. An uneasiness fell into the pit of her stomach as the hyperspace lane shut down, and Tatooine was there in all it’s dusty glory. She should’ve moved her hands to begin the landing coordinates, but she couldn’t move her hands. She couldn’t bring him to the covert without Din knowing exactly what he was walking into. She realized Din didn’t know the truth about the village, when he asked if there were any Mandalorians at the village, she was surprised he hadn’t clued into what she was saying before at Paspr about Ca’tra’s covert. 

Maybe she had been too subtle with what she was trying to tell him. 

Maybe she was scared about telling him the truth outright.

Maybe she was just trying to find ways to keep a distance between them.

She was pulled from her musings when she heard her ship being hailed.

‘Sintas, Gunnership Model X429-432, come in’

‘Sintas, here’

‘Hey Amara, everything okay?’

Amara smiled at the voice, it was Moden, the New Republic Lieutenant who often travelled around the area, and had made more than enough visits to her shop, ‘Hey Moden, yeah, all good. Am I parked illegally?’ She chuckled.

‘No. Just checking’ Amara glanced out the window, seeing the New Republic fighter off the port bow of her ship.

‘Moden, you don’t just check in for nothing, what’s up?’

‘You usually head straight in, just thought you might be in trouble’

‘Just taking in the view.’

‘Well if you want to really see something special, maybe I should take you up in my X-Wing. It’ll give you a view you didn’t expect.’ She heard Moden chuckle a little, this was usually how the conversation went with him, he’d asked her out so many times, she lost track, but it was always in jest. 

‘There’s not enough room for you and your ego in that X-Wing, doubt there’d be room for me.’

Moden’s chuckle turn into a full laugh, ‘Sweetheart, you hurt me. I’d always make sure there was room for you, plenty of space in between my legs.’ Silence permeated the air between the two ships, until Amara burst out laughing, her stomach twisting from how hard she was laughing, ‘Okay, I’ll admit it that wasn’t my smoothest line ever, but there’s no need for you to laugh that hard.’

‘Yes, yes there is. Oh Moden, take care of yourself buddy, I got to head out.’

‘You too Amara, may the force be with you’

‘And with you. See you Moden’

The comm went dead and she saw his X-Wing fly just in front of her ship as he waved off before he went back on patrol, she simply chuckled shaking her head, “How do you get hit on in space?”

Amara turned to Din who was leaning against the doorframe of the cockpit, she simply shrugged her shoulders as she laughed a little longer. He cautiously took the seat beside her, “Everything okay?” He asked as he saw her smile radiate. 

“Yeah. That’s just a friend, he likes to be irritating. How was your rest?”

“Good, did you rest at all?” Amara shook her head no, “Why not?”

She let out a breath, her hands working at inputting the coordinates they needed, setting the ship on auto pilot, “There’s been something plaguing my mind”

“Anything I can help with?”

“It’s about you” she couldn’t look at Din, not right now, she needed to gain her strength before she said what she needed. 

Din felt an uneasy feeling settle in his stomach, did he do something? Was it the conversation they had at dinner. Had he tried to push too hard, to try and gauge what she thought of his idea? “What about me?”

Once she finished fiddling with the dash, she sat back as the Sintas took over, flying them to the coordinates she knew only too well, she turned her seat to look at Din, he deserved to see her face when she started this conversation, “The village we’re going to see … the elders … you asked if some of them were Mandalorian”

“Yes”

“What if I told you they’re all Mandalorian”

“What do you mean?” Din’s attention was laser focused on this conversation. There were Mandalorians on Tatooine and she was just telling him about this now? Why now? Why hadn’t she told him? Why hadn’t Boba?

“It’s Ca’tra’s covert, that’s the village. The friend I mentioned helping, his village, it’s Ca’tra’s.”

“Wait …” Din took a minute to put the pieces together, “Are you saying the covert that Ca’tra and I grew up in …” his anger began to build, “the covert I thought I lost …” his hands clenched against his knee, “the covert I thought I had been responsible for being destroyed by the Empire, was here on Tatooine the whole time?”

“Well …”

“Amara!”

“Yes. It was here on Tatooine; when Ca’tra received the call the covert was in trouble, we hopped on to the ship and headed out to Nevarro as soon as we could, we took all the injured, all the foundlings and moved them to a safe location, it took time to find an appropriate location on Tatooine, some negotiating among the Tuskens and Jawas, even getting the appropriate materials needed, but eventually they got what was needed. It was during that tumultuous time, Ca’tra and I were on patrol when we were attacked and he lost his life.”

“All this time” Din’s tone was unnerving him, it was steely, yet dangerous, “you’ve been lying to me.”

“No. I just … didn’t tell you everything”

He answered dismissing her statement, “You knew. You knew how I’ve struggled with the idea I’d been the one responsible for losing the covert. You knew I was struggling knowing I felt I had no place left, you knew I was struggling every time I remembered the pile of buy’ce (helmets) lying on the floor of Nevarro, knowing they all laid their life down not just for me but for Grogu. You knew all that, and you never told me you knew where they were?”

Din stood from his seat, despite the warning to retake his seat blaring away on the console, he watched as Amara flicked a switch overriding the warning.

“I know you must hate me right now”

“Hate.” Din looked at her, “Hate, doesn’t even begin to explain what I feel for you at this moment. You lied to me. You let me wallow in grief, why? Did it make it easier for you to manipulate me? Make it easier for you, to get me to think I had feelings for you?”

Amara stood for her seat, “NOW WAIT JUST A MINUTE!” Her voiced ricocheted around the cockpit, “Did I hold back from telling you everything? Yes. Did I know that you and Ca’tra came from the same covert? No. Did you ever tell me where your covert was located? No. All you ever said was that your covert stepped in to save you on Nevarro. They could have come off planet, they could’ve come from another covert on Nevarro, how was I suppose to know! Thirdly, I wanted to tell you, but I was told not to!”

“Who told you not to?”

“What?”

“WHO TOLD YOU”

“THE ARMOURER!” Din took a step back, she was alive, The Armourer was alive, “She said I was to tell you and bring you to them in three months. Now maybe there was some slight ambiguity when it came to that statement, but I took it to mean to tell you in three months about the covert; and until we talked on Paspr I had no idea you knew Ca’tra, or his covert. As far as I was concerned this was his covert and I would protect them with my dying breath. They’re all I have left of the man I love.”

Din’s heart broke at her statement, she was still in love with Ca’tra, how could there possibly be room in there for him. “I see” His anger and hurt got the better of him, had he been thinking with a clear head, he probably wouldn’t have said what came out of his mouth, “I’m glad you value the love of the dead over the person who’s alive and standing in front of you.” Amara didn’t respond to his statement, so his mouth just continued, “Clearly, I’ve been making a fool of myself to think there had ever been anything here. Maybe when I am dead, you’ll learn to value the love I have for you too, but then it’ll be too late. In fact, it is too late. You broke my heart Amara, and the truth is I’ll never be anything more to you than a sad excuse of the man you used to love.”

Din glanced up to look at Amara, her cheeks were streaked with tears, her bottom lip was quivering, he closed his eyes hating himself for what he said, he didn’t mean it, his heart ached at his own thoughtless remarks, the ship settled as it landed. 

Amara didn’t look at him, simply walked past him out of the cockpit. She couldn’t believe what he said, but he had to see where she was coming from, right? She didn’t mean to hold off as long as she did, and now that she rethought the Armourer’s words it was more likely she wanted her to tell him sooner. She stood in the kitchenette, as the idea of Din thinking she put more effort into a man who has long since passed hit her in the chest. She couldn’t breathe, her chest tightened, the idea of losing Din felt like her feet were sinking into the sand traps of Tatooine. Wait … did he say he loved her? But then just as quickly he said it was too late, the first person she actually felt … how … She closed her eyes doing her best to regulate her breathing, completely unaware of the eyes that were full of concern and tears watching her from the cockpit entrance. 

Din hated what came out of his mouth, he hated that he attacked the love she had for Ca’tra. He was ripped away from her in the most gruesome way possible, he shouldn’t have thrown her love for him back in her face. He shouldn’t have said it was too late for them, he would wait for her as long as it took. So then why did he say it? Why did he unleash all of that? Images of Mayfield and Omera walking around the village arm in arm, the tenderness between them, engaged after six months, why couldn’t that be his life? Why was it always filled with so much turmoil? Was it his own doing? He watched as she wiped her tears yet again, he wanted to pull her into his arms, to comfort her. He needed to apologize. What he said was cruel and thoughtless. Regardless of what she did or said, it wasn’t right. 

“Ara” his voice was soft as he walked over, “I’m …” she refused to look at him, her arms wrapping around herself, “Listen, I …”

“We should go” she stated as she stood from her spot resting on the table, she turned to walk away from him, but he couldn’t let her, he grabbed her arm, pulling her back to him, gently and softly, he didn’t want to force her to move towards him.

“I’m sorry for saying what I said” she kept her head turned away, but he could hear the sniffles, the silent tears that were no doubt coursing down her cheeks, “I shouldn’t have said what I said.” He pulled her closer, he approached cautiously and gently, he could feel her body tense as he neared her, “If you had said that about Avand, I would be a crumpling mess right now, and hurled abuses and curses at you.” Both his hands rested on her upper arms, as he tilted his head at her, though she kept looking down, “I’m sorry for saying all of it.”

“Why did you say it? Do you really think I care more for Ca’tra’s love?”

“I … I was angry and hurt. To many times, I’ve been betrayed and manipulated … I just let my mouth speak without thinking. I’m sorry.” Din could feel her body’s tension ease out a little, she was still rigid, still keeping her arms wrapped around her middle.

“Is it really too late?” Amara’s voice was unrecognizable even to herself. 

“No” he hated how her voice sounded, it was unsure, afraid, “Can I hug you?” She didn’t respond, simply nodding her head yes. He pulled her in, his arms wrapping around her, holding her head against his chest, he rested his head against the crown of hers, her hands clenched on his waist, her warmth seeping through his flight suit. “I’m so sorry, Ara. I’m sorry for everything.”

“I know. I just …” her voice tightened as she felt his arms tighten on her. 

“Don’t forgive me, not just yet. I don’t deserve that; I am mad, but I also know you were put in a difficult position and it wasn’t fair of me to unleash all of it on you.” She simply nodded against his chest, she pulled back to look at him, his gloved hands, resting on her cheeks, he moved one to wipe the tears away gently with the back of his fingers, as his other hand wiped it away with his thumb. He rested his forehead against hers, “You should seriously think about getting away from me”

“Why?” Her voice was still soft, but it was gaining strength, as his hands slid down her back.

“I keep hurting you either unintentionally, or by my thoughtless remarks, or triggering a past trauma with my words.”

Amara took in a shuddering breath, “Are you leaving me?”

Din’s hands tightened on her, “Only if you want me to”

“I don’t want you too, but I keep hurting you”

“Not intentionally, Ara”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about the covert sooner, I should’ve. I should’ve told you a lot sooner, I should’ve …”

“Shhhh” Din pulled back looking at her, a smile graced his lips as he ignored the tears that streamed down both their faces, “Just be here with me in this moment” a smile graced her own lips as she heard her words coming from his lips. They stood in the kitchenette of the Sintas, resting their foreheads on each other, just taking in the breaths of each other, it was so grounding and calming for the both of them. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Amara was wearing her armour for the first time to the covert, it would be a change from her usual gear that she wore, “Are you okay?” She asked as she glanced over to the Mandalorian standing beside her, he let out a shaky breath as they stood on the ramp, he gave a quick nod, as they headed off towards the entrance, she closed the ramp. Setting the ground protocols in place. “I’m not sure how big the covert was before, but there’s still a few of the foundlings here” she offered filling the silence between them.

“How many of the adults?”

“Not a lot, but enough, there’s about 15 in total, give or take, at times they leave to go on a hunt or supply run, depending on what’s needed.”

“How did you find this place?”

“My dad. He knew the Tuskens in the area, we asked them if they knew of anyplace we could negotiate from them.”

“They accepted?”

“More or less, part of the condition of accepting was my willingness to come out to the Dune Seas and help them with any repair; but it worked out better for me, made a lot of Tusken friends out here.”

“There are eyes watching us”

“Yeah it’s the perimeter crew, the watch changes every five hours.”

Din watched as Amara entered a small crevice, if he hadn’t known that was an entrance he would’ve moved on from looking at it twice. It was a bit of a tight squeeze but he made it through easily enough. Din’s eyes widened at the structure, there were a few steps leading down a tunnel, but there was an interesting bioluminescent plant hanging from the ceilings that seemed to provide a natural light. His hand reached up touching the foliage, “Is this native to Tatooine?”

Amara looked at where Din’s hands were playing with the foliage, “No. Someone found it on a planet and brought it back. They made sure it wouldn’t negatively affect the planet, before letting it grow in the cave.”

“Smart”

“Well last thing anyone wants is to give Tatooine any more difficulties”

They continued walking down the corridor, sounds of children laughing, people moving, and talking grew as they walked further into the tunnel. Din’s eyes began to glisten with tears as he saw all the Mandalorians he had known for years enter his field of vision, they all stopped and turned to look at him. His breath hitched when one of the foundlings came over.

“Din Djarin?”

“Hello, Kocalwa” he placed his hand on the young foundling who threw his arms around the older Mandalorian.

Amara watched as Din kneeled hugging the foundling, she was thankful for her helmet it hid the tears. She walked away, as other Mandalorians and foundlings came and started placing a hand on the missing Mandalorian. She hated herself so much for keeping this from him, this was his family and she kept him from his family. 

“What’s going on?” Came a modulated voice beside Amara, she turned to see Rarsia.

“They’re welcoming back Din Djarin” She watched as Rarsia simply nodded, before turning to look at Amara.

“You should have come back sooner”

“Why?”

She shifted her hand to show the symbol painted on her pauldron, the symbol of the Vizsla Clan. Amara’s eyes widened, “Wait … are you … you and Paz?” She shifted her helmet to look at Rarsia’s visor, she simply nodded, before letting out a giggle, they wrapped their arms around each other, holding tightly to each other. 

Din was inundated with welcome back, good to see you alive, glad you’re not dead statements, it was a little overwhelming. For a long time he always considered himself an outsider, but to know he was missed, warmed his heart. He was grateful his helmet hid his tears, he looked around to see if he could see Paz or the Armourer; when he realized he couldn’t see Amara anywhere, he glanced around when another Mandalorian brother tapped his shoulder, “Don’t worry, you haven’t lost her, she’s talking to Rarsia. Tell me brother, does this mean, she’s off the market?”

He turned his head to look at Solad, “What do you mean?”

“Do you know how many of us here have been trying to court her? She wouldn’t even let us on her ship, and here you two are strolling off her ship, walking side by side, so I am asking is she off the market?”

“I do not speak for her”

“Your first mistake” Solad stated as he stepped away from Djarin, he felt a hand wrap around his upper arm, he turned to look back at his brother recently welcomed back, “Something to say?”

“Leave her alone” Din’s tone was clipped, he knew he shouldn’t he wasn’t anything to Ara, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t watch out for her, “She’s earned her Mando’ade status, treat her with the respect she deserves. She’s not some auretti (outsider).”

Solad let out a chuckle, “Either you have claim or you don’t, you don’t get to tell me how to treat her, unless you have claim. So do you have claim?” He tilted his head at the man beside him.

“No.”

“Then” he removed Djarin’s hand from his arm, “I will heed my own counsel, Djarin”

“Mand’alor Djarin!” 

Solad stilled at the call from the Armourer, she kneeled before Djarin, everyone falling suit.

Amara looked around the covert, there was not a single person standing, she kneeled before the man too, Din tilted his head at Ara, she shouldn’t have to kneel before him, none of them should. “Brothers, sisters, please aliit, stand, no one bows and kneels to me. You risked your lives to save myself and my foundling, if anyone kneels it is me, to thank you all for what you did.”

Everyone stood at his statement, “Come, Mand’alor, we need to speak” the Armourer motioned as Paz stood by her side, she turned walking towards the smelter. Paz stood as Din came to a stop in front of the man who always expressed his annoyance at Din for marrying his sister.

Paz rested his hand on the smaller man’s shoulder, “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

“Thank you for saving me on Nevarro. I’m sorry for your sacrifice.”

“There are more of us, we’ll put you to work soon enough” Paz eyes floated to the darksaber hanging off the belt of Djarin. His free hand clenched by his side as the two followed the Armourer to her room. 

Amara watched as she realized this is where he belonged, Din didn’t belong with her, he belonged with his covert, with a Mandalorian who understood his creed, who understood what it meant to live in a covert, to be raised by one. Rarsia stood by as she watched Paz, she knew her riduur was having a difficult time with this, he said he wasn’t going to challenge Djarin for the saber, but she saw the hand clench by his side. She knew what that sabre meant to Paz, what it meant to his clan. 

“Amara” Rarsia stated as she looked at her friend, guiding her off to the side away from prying ears and eyes.

“What’s wrong?” She sensed the tone of concern in Rarsia’s voice.

“I think my riduur may do something incredibly stupid”

Amara closed her eyes, she knew what she was thinking, “You really think he’s going to challenge him?”

“He says he isn’t, however, I’ve … I saw the way his hand clenched by his side, trust me, he’s going to do something stupid.”

“Maybe we can delay it”

“How?”

“Let me talk to him, if he gets mad at me, that’s nothing new” Amara offered, Rarsia simply nodded, “Paz is going to need your faith in him, especially now that Djarin is back. Maybe if he realizes it won’t affect your love him, he’ll let it go.”

“I’ll try” 

Amara nodded, and headed off to the smelter, she didn’t want to interrupt, allowing his time with the Armourer and Paz, she decided to sit on one of the crates by the welding room, taking in the view of the foundlings practicing their stances, “Amara” she turned to see Solad, she closed her eyes stilling the anger that always seemed to appear when the man approached her. 

“Solad”

“You and the Mand’alor, huh?”

“What do you want Solad?”

“Answer my question”

“Answer mine”

“You know he won’t bring you happiness”

“And I suppose you will?”

“I certainly can bring you to ecstasy”

“Solad, go away”

“Why?”

“Because I asked”

“If I don’t?”

“I’ll kick your sheb”

“That’s not a deterrent”

“Amara” she turned to see Paz standing at the entrance of the smelter, “the Armourer has asked that you join us. Solad, I’m sure there’s something you can be doing, if you don’t have anything to do, I can think of a few things that need to be worked on.”

“I’m going” Solad bowed to Amara and walked away. She felt the release of her tension that had been coiling in the pit of her stomach.

“Thank you”

“He’s a di’kut, who needs to learn his place”

“Here’s hoping he learns his lesson before I have to teach him” Paz let out a chuckle, “I hear congratulations are in order on your riduurok (marriage).”

Paz’s face heated at the statement, “We were hoping you’d be back sooner, but we just couldn’t wait”

“I understand. I’m just happy that you both found each other”

“Me too”

“You know she doesn’t care if you’re Mand’alor”

Paz turned his attention to Amara, stopping in his steps just before the entrance to the room, “What are you talking about?”

“I can read your stances better than you think ner vod, as soon as your eyes clocked the darksaber’s hilt, your first clenched. All I’m saying is think before you decide to challenge him, if it’s something you really want or is it something you think your family expects you to want.”

He didn’t say anything, there wasn’t much to say, he simply offered a nod, and continued to follow the path towards their destination. Amara let out a breath, as she followed Paz towards the welding room, they both stood in the back as they watched the Armourer turn the beskar spear into something she couldn’t quite make out from her spot, when the Armourer was done, she simply handed a pouch to Din. 

“Amara Vel”

“Armourer”

“Djarin informed me you acquired a beskar sword, is that true?”

Amara nodded, after defeating the Dead Kings on Sorgan, Mayfield told her to keep the beskar sword, it belonged with a Mandalorian, not him. She pulled off the hilt from her belt, handing it to the Armourer. She watched as the Armourer turned it on, the blade unfolding from within as it stood erect, it was the thinnest sword ever seen, it shimmered in the light of the cauldron, “Beskar is meant for armour not weapons, as I stated to Djarin about his spear, it’s mere existence is a threat to all Mandalorians.”

“Then let it be forged into something else”

“What would you have me forge?”

“Whatever is needed for the covert or for a foundling”

“This is the way”

“This is the way” came from all three in front of the Armourer.

“May I be allowed to ask a question of you?” Din directed to the woman who was melting down the beskar sword.

“Ask your question, Djarin?”

“Why did you wish for me to wait to hear of your existence?”

The Armourers hands stilled before continuing her work, “It was an opportunity to see if you are worthy”

“Worthy?”

“Tell me Amara Vel, what was his reaction when he told him where we were”

“Armourer?” Amara’s hands tightened why was she doing this to her, to them?

“Answer the question, Vel”

“He reacted how anyone would react, Armourer”

“Which is?”

Amara turned to look at Din, she didn’t want to disrespect him in front of those who he cherished, who were his family. Din simply gave a nod, there was no point hiding anything. “He got angry”

“Did he strike you?”

“What? No.”

“Not just physically, but verbally, was he unkind?”

“Anyone would be unkind in that position”

“Amara is being too kind” Din interjected on her behalf, “I was unkind, I spoke harshly and without thought. I hurt her…”

Amara cut off Din, “However, he also apologized. His anger was understandable, and justified.”

“Interesting” the Armourer focused on finishing her task, she put a small pauldron off to the side, “You ask Djarin why I asked she delay your knowledge, simple, to see if you are worthy. Anyone can lose their anger at having truths kept from them, however only a great man, a man worthy of being Mand’alor, would be able to pull his anger back and do what needs to be done. Tell me, are you still angry?”

“Not as much as I was before”

“Then you have learned your lesson. Anger only gets you so far, Djarin, in battle it is a helpful ally, gives you strength at times, but it can also be a hindrance, making you unstable. To rule as Mand’alor, it can also be an ally but it can also be a hindrance. To rule, you must rule with determination, with a will to unify our people. This is the way.”

“This is the way” Din stated with determination

“This is the way” Paz and Amara both responded, except her voice was softer. 

“You will learn to use the darksaber, it is a honourable weapon for you to wield, we will begin your training tomorrow. Welcome home, Mand’alor Djarin.”

Amara watched as Paz and Din bowed towards the Armourer, she locked eyes with the woman and nodded. She didn’t want to spend another second with any of them, there was a pain in her heart, she wasn’t prepared for; maybe that was the real reason she also held back from saying anything, at the end of the day, he would’ve chosen his covert over her. Her suspicion was confirmed when Din didn’t even glance back to her, she turned and began to head out, there was no need for her to stay, he found his home, his rejection of her was evident from his lack of communicating with her. Okay, maybe she was being petty and childish, but seeing how he was with the covert, seeing how he was in his element, how could she take that away from him, again? She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

“Amara, wait” she heard Din’s voice call out to her but she couldn’t stop, she didn’t want to stop, if she didn’t stop she could break down in her own space, on the Sintas. Away from everyone. 

“Amara” Din grabbed her arm, stopping her from leaving, “where are you going?”

“I have to get back to my family” her visor looked off and away from his. 

“I’ll come with you” her head lifted and turned to look at his. 

“What?”

“I’ll come with you, there’s a few things I’m going to need to get, if I am to begin training tomorrow” 

“Oh, right, well I could get that for you. You should spend time with your family, with your friends.”

Din didn’t understand what had shifted, why was she being this way? “I don’t understand”

“This is your family, Din” she motioned to the covert, “now that you found them, you’ll want to stay. I’m not going to stand in the way of that, this …” she took in a breath, she was going to go out on a limb here, “this isn’t my world, it could never be. Not when I have Adi, Boba, Fennec, Gregor and Peli to look after. You deserve to find someone who…” oh maker, she’s going to hate herself for this, “to find someone who loves the living as much as the dead, or more than the dead. That’s what you said right?” Her bottom lip was trembling, she didn’t want to walk away.

“Wait, are you saying you don’t …”

“I’m saying, you should be with someone who can be what you need them to be.”

“But you are what I need. Ara …” Din’s hand rested against her helmeted cheek, he felt his throat tighten, “O’yare, I don’t need anyone else. I need you. Please don’t go. I was wrong. What I said before, I was wrong” he felt tears slide down his cheek, “I should never have said that about Ca’tra. I need you, ner mesh’la O’yare (My beautiful O’yare). Ner jatne burc’ya (My best friend). Ner hbina tyatr (My guiding star). When I was on Sorgan talking to Omera, I had to close my eyes and think of something that comforted me, something that made me happy, that was you. You comforted me. You always make me happy. I was angry that you were put in this position, to be the one to tell me, to be the one to feel my anger. I was angry at Mayfield and it came out at the wrong time.”

“Why were you angry at Mayfield?” Her voice was low, she couldn’t believe what he was saying, was this real?

“Because he had what I didn’t”

“I don’t understand”

“Freedom. In six months, he had the freedom to fall in love and ask the woman he loves to marry him, he could walk around the village without a care in the world. Showing how much he loved her. I don’t have that freedom. I’ve never had that. I was jealous of what he has.” Din took in a shuddering breath, his own tears washing the dirt off his face, trickling down and being absorbed in the cowl of his cape, “Please,” his voice lowered, “don’t leave me; not when I’m finally beginning to feel free. I tried to push you away on the ship, telling you to leave, because you deserve better, and I know I’m being selfish in asking you to stay, but I am. I’m asking. Don’t leave me, cyar’ika.”

Amara could barely swallow that bantha sized confession he just gave her, it wasn’t him stating he loved her, it was him stating he was falling for her, in his own way. He needed time to get himself right. She took a step closer, resting her hands on his cuirass, tilting her head till her visor locked on his, “I’m finally beginning to feel free too, but I don’t want to be the one keeping you from your happiness. You thought you lost your family, Din. I’m not going to be the one to keep you from them.”

“Ner hbina tyatr (My guiding star), don’t you see, there is no happiness without you. You found my family and kept them safe, providing for them, looking out for them. The Armourer told me all of what you did for them, how are you keeping me from them?” Din rested his forehead on hers, he didn’t care who saw at that moment, he wanted everyone to know he was going to try. 

“I don’t want you to have to choose, they’re your family.”

“They will always be my family, mesh’la, but you are my family too, and you’re …” Din pulled back, he wanted to look in to her eyes, he wanted to be able to do this without the helmets, yet there was that fear again brewing in his heart, “you are the most amazing, most awe inspiring, badass fighter, I have ever seen. You have a strength within you, that I wish I had, you are strong, intelligent, caring, a wonderful mother, a kick-ass mechanic, pilot and fighter, I will gladly follow you anywhere, O’yare Fett.”

She took in a shuddering breath, it was a confession of what he felt, and it was more than he could offer her right now, she knew that, a smile graced her lips, as she tried to think of the most appropriate response, she knew if she opened her mouth and said what she was feeling at that moment, it would be similar in weight to the bantha-sized confession Din offered, “I’ll follow you anywhere too, Mand���alor Din Djarin.”

Although she couldn’t see it, Din’s smile grew from one ear to the other, he knew the kind of woman she was, she would never knowingly follow anyone if she didn’t trust, care, and love that person. “Well … then we should go and make sure to deliver our quarry.”

“You mean your ex”

“Can we not start that again” he chuckled as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, directing her towards the entrance of the covert.

“Start what, oh you mean the fact that all your exes want to kill you” she giggled as she wrapped her arm around his waist as they both headed back to the Sintas.

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[spectral-musette]

She touched his face, fingertips light along his temple, nails delicately scraping through the short beard on his cheeks, lingering on the cleft in his chin before resting on his mouth.

“I thought…” she began, but then choked on a soft sob as the tears began to run down her cheeks.

“I thought you would be angry,” he said instead, nuzzling his cheek against her hand and then kissing the palm.

“I am furious,” she assured him, tenderly. “I am incandescent with rage.” Her lips were against his, her breath uneven in his mouth.

Directly following the Deception arc (Clone Wars Season 4 episodes 15-18), Obi-Wan asks for Satine's forgiveness for letting her believe he was dead.

Just over 2000 words, M in AO3-style rating, probably part of a longer work if I can ever finish it and think of a title.

. . . . . . . . . .

Obi-Wan had not protested very much when Padme offered him the use of her family’s lakeside retreat in the aftermath of the attempted abduction of the Chancellor on Naboo. He had, however, expected a slightly more modest structure than the sprawling villa he’d found upon his arrival. Despite the droids on staff, the place seemed empty, hollow, as though it still echoed with the voices and laughter of a happy family. So fresh from his undercover work, he wasn’t sure isolation was the best remedy for his rumpled spirits after the ordeal, but arrangements had been made, and he supposed he could make the best of it for a few days.

In some ways, he was eager to leave Naboo. The memory of Qui-Gon’s death still cut like a keen-edged blade here. But perhaps that meant he should stay, to meditate on his old grief.

Painful as that prospect was, at least it sounded more surmountable than returning to a Temple that had been mourning him.

He’d have to, eventually. Anakin’s (justified) expression of betrayal and Ahsoka’s wounded demeanor still stung, and he didn’t look forward to repeating these painful scenes with other dear friends, with Luminara, or with Quinlan. But until the GAR red tape was untangled (at least a few days), he was still officially dead, and granted all the freedom of a wandering ghost.

He felt a little like the ghost of his old self after a quick swim as he climbed out of the lake onto the patio by the house. He sat heavily on the flagstones, still warm from the sun even as the stars were coming out. The constellations of Naboo seemed startlingly familiar considering the few times he’d seen them. The span of nearly 15 years felt short tonight. Perhaps it was the mere stubble of hair on his skull, shorter even than a padawan’s. Perhaps it was the ache of his old Master’s absence. He tried to ground himself in the present; as he toweled off his wet limbs, the ugly burn scars from his duel with Count Dooku shone pale in the moonlight, and his face still hurt from the dreadful biotech that had transformed him into the Mandalorian marksman.

It was always Mandalorians, wasn’t it? Proof that the Force possessed a sense of dramatic irony that the brethren of the woman to whom he’d lost his heart seemed to continually haunt him.

The guilt of it weighed like a stone on his chest. The mission had dragged on far too long for Satine not to have heard news of his apparent death. He had hoped it might all be resolved before… Well, it had been an unlikely hope, anyway. Padme almost certainly told her immediately.

There hadn’t been anything for it. To ask for permission to tell Satine the truth before the charade would’ve been tantamount to confessing his feelings for her. Had there only been the censure of the Council involved it might’ve been one thing, but any careless word to the Chancellor’s staff could’ve proven disastrous for Satine and the gossamer-fine line she walked to keep peace and authority on Mandalore. He’d been keeping her safe even as he wounded her.

Just like the old days, pulling her out of harm's way, or shielding her with his body.

Only this wasn’t an accidentally scraped knee or bruised arm. Perhaps it was vain of him to assume, but he knew how deeply she cared for him, how intense her feelings ran…

He’d tried composing a message to her so many times. Even still in the guise of Rako Hardeen, when he caught a moment’s rest, he’d gone over it in his mind, lulling himself into an uneasy sleep as he tried to find the words to ask her forgiveness.

In the end, a forthright Forgive me, was the best he could muster, hastily sent to her private channel as soon as he’d gotten access to a comm unit at the conclusion of the charade. If you’ll listen, I’ll try to explain, but nothing will excuse what I’ve put you through. Know that I am so very sorry.

She hadn’t replied. He checked the comm unit again as he pulled his undertunic over his head, the rough linen soaking up the last of the lake water on his back, seeing only his own message, stark and insufficient.

He didn’t blame her, truly.

He’d slept since sending it, through the afternoon, reveling a little in the luxury of resting when he felt tired, regardless of the local daytime cycles. And he dreamed in disjointed flashes, mostly of her… her grief, her melancholy, her ire… of the glint of tears on her dark gold eyelashes, the quaver of anger in her beloved voice.

He wasn’t sure if he ought to just sleep again, now that night was here. Weary as he was, he felt he could sleep for days.

He heard the door from the house to the patio open. He didn’t look immediately, as it seemed likely to be one of Padme’s droid caretakers, there to ask if he required food or clean linens. But there was no whirring of servos, and the footsteps on the flagstones sounded too soft. He caught a whiff of an achingly familiar floral scent just as he turned.

She must’ve been too much in his thoughts already, his mind too clouded with guilt and regret and weariness to clearly sense her presence.

But Satine stood, silhouetted by the dim illumination of the house, resplendent in the scarlet gown she’d worn the night they’d met in secret on Coruscant, though her hair was loose about her shoulders, pale and shimmering in the moonlight. For a moment she was utterly still, then she merely raised a hand to her mouth, stifling a soft gasp.

He scrambled to his feet, keenly aware that this was not the state in which he wished to appear before his lady. His trousers were still sopping, his undertunic open to the navel, and his hair had barely grown in longer than the stubble on his jaw. But her eyes were only on his, and shining with tears. She took a few steps towards him, then swayed a little. He lunged to catch her around the waist; the last thing she needed on top of all the rest of the suffering he’d caused her was bruised knees. She twined her arms around his neck, and his knees gave a slow surrender too, such that the pair of them sank to the flagstones, wrapped in each other’s arms.

She touched his face, fingertips light along his temple, nails delicately scraping through the short beard on his cheeks, lingering on the cleft in his chin before resting on his mouth.

“I thought…” she began, but then choked on a soft sob as the tears began to run down her cheeks.

“I thought you would be angry,” he said instead, nuzzling his cheek against her hand and then kissing the palm.

“I am furious,” she assured him, tenderly. “I am incandescent with rage.” Her lips were against his, her breath uneven in his mouth.

He tasted it in her kiss, a fleeting note of bitterness and sorrow amid the heady sweetness of her relief and joy, the fire of her desire.

“I am so very sorry,” he repeated, abject.

“Oh, I hope so,” she replied, breathless.

As usual, Satine had the last word, as neither of them could speak for some time after that.

. . . . . . . . . .

She lay on her side, half propped up on her elbow, her head against the pillow and her hair spread across it in a tangle of pale spun gold. The bedclothes were pooled around her waist, and he deeply felt the intimacy and vulnerability they shared in that moment. He thought this image of her would be vivid in his mind for the rest of his days, however long that might be: the pale morning light on her bare skin, her flushed cheeks, the glint of unshed tears in her eyes, the soft swell of her breasts with her sharp, uneven breaths as she tried not to cry again.

Finished with his abridged account of the awful ordeal, he reached out to run the backs of his fingers along her arm.

“Say something,” he begged.

She sat up a little more, her hair falling across her face as she wrapped her arms around herself and turned away from him.

“It might be… easier to accept, if you’d done it for the sake of someone … worthy of all this pain. To protect Anakin or Ahsoka or Padme or…”

“Satine, I can’t decline a mission to protect the Chancellor simply because I dislike the man.”

“It isn’t a matter of dislike. There’s something… so… wicked about him. Manipulative and scheming. Don’t say it’s because he tried to put troops on Mandalore, and don’t you dare say it’s because he’s a politician.” She turned back to him, her gaze challenging.

“No,” he agreed prudently. “I won’t say that. I don’t disagree with you. He’s been a mentor to Anakin and to Padme for as long as I’ve known him, but I can’t help thinking it’s always been somehow for his own benefit. He steered Padme to get himself elected in the first place, and his grip on the office has been white-knuckled since. I can’t very well blame him for the war, but despite his lipservice towards peaceful resolution, the GAR keeps swelling its ranks.”

“I’ll blame him. Unfortunately, there’s no evidence to confirm it aside from my gut feeling.”

He placed a hand on her waist, his thumb tracing around her navel. “I’ve learned to trust your gut feelings. But dislike him, distrust him or not, my duty is to the Republic.”

He started to pull his arm back, but she gripped it by the elbow. He slid his hand to the small of her back, pulling her closer.

“What of your duty to me?” Her voice was quiet, but not without a note of beskar.

“Is it duty?” he asked. “I thought it was love.”

“Perhaps it’s very Mandalorian of me,” she said, “that we hold our most sacred duties to be to those we love.”

“Satine, I cannot put my devotion to you above the will of the Council or the good of the Republic. Not while I serve the Jedi Order.”

He almost expected her to pull away in anger or distress, but she shifted closer, pressing her face against his shoulder. “I know that. I’ve always known that. But it hasn’t hurt like this before.”

“Not since I left?” he suggested, burying his face in her hair and holding her tightly.

“No. Not even then. It wasn’t losing you, it was letting you go. This was… like I had died too.”

The guilt of it made his stomach turn. “I am so sorry, Satine. If there had been time to find another way… to spare you this…”

“The worst of it is that you knew how it would hurt me,” she accused. “And you still did it.”

“I knew,” he confirmed, regretful. “The Chancellor insisted on knowing everyone who was privy to the plan, and I had no time to even find the opportunity to disobey. I thought… the risk of revealing that you should be told…”

She let out a breath, hot against his skin.

“I think I’d have much rather run that risk than think you were dead.”

“If I’d had time to think it through, perhaps I’d have decided differently. But everything was snap decisions, and my instinct was to protect you.”

“And I can’t even be angry at you for that.”

“Of course you can be angry,” he soothed.

“Oh, what good does it do?” she demanded, lifting her head, fair brow furrowed. “Just wasting time quarreling when we have so little time together anyway.”

“Then you forgive me?” he asked humbly, kissing her forehead.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly, stroking his cheek. “I know that I still want you, though.”

“Then I am yours,” he promised, kissing her fingertips.

“At least it’s not an offense that’s very likely to be repeated,” she reflected, shaking her head a little.

“Not very,” he agreed.

“I feel like I ought to extract some promise… some penance. But I expect you’ve punished yourself enough.”

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back. “The thing itself was terrible too. Not that I’m suggesting that what I went through can compare to-”

“Hush, darling,” she scolded. “It can be terrible on its own.”

“Sometimes I thought my death might end up not being a lie after all,” he said softly.

“Do you want to tell me?” she asked, her fingertips light across his brow.

He shook his head. No, he didn’t want to see how it would pain her, to think of him in danger, forced to behave as an utter villain. “Not now. Not more than I already have.”

She kissed him then, deep and ardent. “Then forget, for a while,” she said, breathless, her lips still brushing his. “Let me forget again. Make me forget.”

She hitched her leg around him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he shifted onto her, into the blissful oblivion where she was the center of the universe and the Force sang in resonance with their love.

#Obi Wan/Satine #obitine #Star Wars fic #Clone Wars fic #I wrote a thing #long post #Obi Wan Kenobi #Satine Kryze #guys I am so bad at titles #I have been trying to write something about this for ages