#because a romantic dance together???? that is RIGHT up my alley like. my heart was going WILD

[corvidkusnos]

Ngl I think it's glaringly obvious the criticisms of Wyll are racially charged because he has one of the most interesting stories in BG3 and has a personality that when paired with his story, if he were white, people would eat that shit up like nobody's business

A guy who sold his soul to the devil as a teenager to save a city? A guy who is charming, funny and sweet with some dramatic flare? A guy who has some really stinkin cute romance scenes including a dance that makes you feel like a fairytale romance?

Like c'mon now.

[dragon-kazansky]

The song in our hearts

Lestat De Lioncourt x Female Reader

A musician with a heart that sings and an admirer who wishes to see his songbird thrive. Two beings in different worlds get caught up in each other when someone threatens to steal his songbird's spotlight. Loving Lestat isn't simple, and your life will never be the same again. What is eternity without chaos?

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Four - Encore

You are rehearsing at the piano when the manager comes over eagerly. He's waving something around in his hand. You choose to keep your focus on your piano, flooding the empty theater with beautiful music. 

Amelie was sitting close by listening to you, but when Jack came in, he focus shifted to him.

Jack stops abruptly next to you waving an envelope in your face. You stop playing to look at it and then look up at him. “What is it?”

“A donation!” He exclaims.

“A donation?” Amelie asks.

Jack nods. “From your sponsor. He wrote a letter stating he will make a donation to the theater as long as you keep performing here.”

You look at the envelope with curiosity. “He did?”

Jack nods again. “Yes. Isn't this wonderful? Our little theater could thrive with such a wealthy man behind it. You, my dear, are a gift.”

A gift.

That's what Lestat had said he had given you. A gift from him. He was going to make sure you could play your music freely without concern of others. Simply because he enjoyed your music.

“How generous of him,” Amelie comments.

“Yes. Very,” you say softly. The very idea of having Lestat looking out for you made your heart race. It was strange how much of an affect one man could have over you over something as simple as music.

“My dear, this is a blessing. Never give up on your music.” Jack beams down at you. His words would be flattering if they had been from someone else.

Jack leaves you alone at your piano. Amelie moves to sit next to you on the bench. “This Lestat… are you two…?” She probes.

“No!” You reply quickly. “Nothing like that.”

Amelie chuckles and presses a couple of keys on the piano. She makes a small little tune and then sighs. “I wish someone would sponsor me for my dancing.”

“Someone should! You're a natural dancer. It's in your blood,” you smile. Amelie looks pleased with your compliments.

“I still think it's romantic. A handsome stranger supporting you for your talent.” She plucks at hwr skirt mindlessy.

“Romantic… It's not like that. He just appreciates good music.”

Amelie rolls her eyes at you, but she doesn't say anything. Still, you can tell what she's thinking just by the expression on her face. However, you don't say anything either.

As you're leaving the theater later they evening, you are cornered by Noah who had been lingering about outside the back door. You could already tell he had been waiting for you because as soon as you come outside he's right beside you.

“So, your sponsor is sending donations to the theater. How nice of him,” Noah says dryly. “You know, you should reconsider our duet.”

“I don't think so,” you say.

“Listen, we could be good together. My voice, your music. It could be magic.” He grins, but it's not a friendly grin.

“Noah, for the last time, no.”

He stops you from walking by grabbing at your elbow. It's not tight enough you can't shake him off, but it's forceful enough to get you to stop.

“I don't like being told no.”

You glare at him. “Well, there's a first time for everything. No.”

“You're making a big mistake,” he tells you.

“I don't think so. If you try a stunt like the other night again, I will have you removed from the theater. Jack can't afford to lose me.”

Noah laughs. “Oh, the kitten has claws.”

You yank your arm away from him. “I have more than claws.”

You storm off onto the street and make your way home. Noah is left in the alley watching you walk away. Anger burns through his body.

As you reach your apartment you're surprised to find Lestat waiting for you outside. You slow down as he approaches you. There's an expression in his eyes that makes you feel like he's reading you.

“What happened, Chéri?”

All tension leaves your body as soon as he's beside you. For whatever reason being around Lestat makes you calm.

“Just Noah riling me up again,” you sigh.

“What did the fool want now?” Lestat asks, a bite to his tone.

“Your donation to the theater has stirred everyone up. I think Noah is jealous he isn't getting any attention.”

“He's a terrible singer anyway.”

You laugh. Lestat's face lights up at the sound. Your laugh was perhaps his favourite sound. Your music coming second.

“Do not let the petty people stand in the way of your music. Your talent is far more precious than anything he could ever say.” Lestat reaches out and caresses your chin gently with his finger. His nail is sharp, but merely tickles your skin.

“I am lucky to have found you,” you say, looking at him with gentle eyes.

“It is I who found you. I am the lucky one,” he smiles.

There's a moment where you can't bring yourself to look away from him. The temptation to step closer and reach out was great, but it is Lestat who breaks the spell and steps away from you. He moves out of reach, the distance seeming too far for your liking. You don't dare move though.

“Get some rest. I shall see you on Friday.”

You don't even get a chance to ask why he was waiting for you outside your apartment. Lestat leaves quickly, gone in the blink of an eye. You don't even question it. You're too occupied thinking about his eyes.

Friday comes around and you're fixing your hair up for your performance. Amelie had left your side moments ago to prepare for her performance. She had been working on a new routine which she was really proud of.

You look up at the sound of knocking on your door and call for them to enter. It's Noah. You feel yourself sigh internally. He leans agaiant your doorframe allowing you to get a good look at his suit. He obviously thinks he looks amazing, but all you can think about it how the colour is wrong for his complexion and that it looks too tight in some places.

“What do you want?” You ask.

“I am here to tell you that tonight is going to be our night. I can feel it.” He grins wide.

“What do you mean?”

“Tonight we will become stars!”

You do not like his behaviour. There's something very wrong with him. You can feel it.

“What are you getting at?” You ask him slowly, calmly.

Noah winks at you. You instantly feel sick.

“Wait and see, darling. Me and you, we're going shine.”

Noah leaves, your door closing behind him. You're left sitting there wondering what all that was about. What is he going to do? What has he done?

You feel uncomfortable.

You watch Amelie come off stage after her performance. She was amazing. Her new routine was exciting and thrilling. She had been working hard on the story telling aspect of her routines and it had really paid off. Amelie hugged you as she exited the stage and then watched you go on after your piano had been set up.

Applause filled the room as you walked across the stage. You ignored it. The only thing you paid attention to was the handsome blond man in his box.

He smiled at you.

You smiled back.

You take your seat at the piano bench and take a deep breath. The only thought running through your head was your hope of Lestat enjoying your music once again. 

You begin to play. Music fills the room. The audience fall quiet as you let your magic work. They hang onto every note and feel themselves drift away to wherever your music takes them.

In his box, Lestat leans forward slightly. his eyes are focused on you. Your music touches his heart. Hearing you play the way you did was a blessing to him.

He closed his eyes just for a moment. Your melody sunk into his bones. He could almost feel every note pass through him. You had him hook, line, and sinker.

Then the magic broke.

Noah's voice cut through the air. Lestat opened his eyes to see the insulting man standing amongst the aisle of seats belting out his song. Lestat clutched the balcony in anger.

Did this fool not understand?

He could still hear your piano, but with one look at you he knew you wanted nothing more than to get up and leave.

Do it.

You swore you heard a voice just now.

Leave.

Your eyes shift up to where Lestat was sitting. He was looking at you.

Don't play for this fool.

Noah could see Lestat looking at you. He decided to sing a little bit louder. Lestat did not turn his gaze away from you.

The music stopped.

You would not play for Noah. You refused. That voice agreed. You got up from your piano and fled from the stage. You ran all the way down to your dressing room to hide.

Lestat turned to Noah who was still signing for a very confused audience. Lestat had had enough. He got up and fled from his box.

Noah stopped singing and took a dramatic bow. The audience didn't know if they should clap or not, so only a few gave a slow applause.

Noah took his leave.

You slumped down at your dressing table, head in your arms. What even happened? You were playing your music. Noah came to ruin it once again.

That voice.

It sounded like Lestat was in your head. But how can that be?

Your dressing room door swings open and Noah storms in. You're startled by his sudden entrance. He is quick to pull you into his arms and dance around the room with you. You're able to push him off you, putting some distance between you and him.

“What is wrong with you?” You ask angrily.

“Nothing is wrong with me. I just want the most talented pianist in New Orleans to play while I sing. Is that a crime?” 

“Well, this pianist doesn't want to play for you!” You yell.

“You have a sponsor and everything!” Noah waves his hands around frantically. “It's not fair! I have been singing for the last 10 years of my life! I have a great voice. Why shouldn't the two most talented people here join as one and make magic together?!”

“You're scaring me…”

He circles around the room, blocking off your exit.

“I'm scaring you?” He laughs. “That's rich. Do you know who you should be afraid of? Your sponsor. That man isn't right… There's something weird about him.”

“Please leave,” you beg of him.

He doesn't go.

Noah takes a few steps closer to you. “Let me look after you. Let me be the angel who sings to your melody. We can leave this crappy town and make the world our stage. You're far too good for a place like this.” 

“Noah, I won't ask again.” You back up as much as you can, but you're out of space.

Before Noah can get too close he's pulled back violently from you. You can only gasp in shock at the sight of him on the ground. Lestat stands over him seething with anger.

“Lestat?” You call softly.

He doesn't look at you. He stares down at Noah like a predator looking at it's prey. You're afraid.

“This pathetic little man thinks he owns the stage, but he is wrong. When you play your music the stage belongs to you. No other. I do not take kindly to those who interfere.” Lestat pulls Noah up by the lapels of his jacket and holds him upright. Noah stuggles agaiant him, but to no avail.

“What are you going to do to me?” Noah asks, freaking out.

“Teach you a lesson.”

In the blink of an eye Lestat is gone. As is Noah. You startled by what you had just witnessed. However, the panic sets in and the need to find them takes over. You run as fast as your legs will carry you.

You're not entirely sure where Lestat has taken Noah, but you take a guess by going to his house. It’s the only place you can think of. Judging by the sounds from inside, you were right. You open the gates and hurry inside.

“Get off me!” You hear Noah yell.

You enter the house in a hurry. “Lestat?”

“Don't come any closer, chéri.” You hear him call from inside the house.

“Lestat, what are you doing? Where's Noah?”

“Help me!” Noah cries out.

“You care about this pathetic creature?” Lestat asks.

“Not really, but I don't want anyone to get hurt…” You call out.

“I will not stand for him ruining you.”

You feel a tug at your heart. There is something in Lestat's voice that had you feeling deeply. He sounded angry but also sad.

“What are you going to do?” You ask.

A moment of silence fills the house. All you can hear is Noah whimpering in the next room.

“I'm going to rid us of this vermin.”

“Lestat?”

In the next moment all you can hear is a chocking sound and then a thud. You can't hear Noah calling for help any more. You decide to face the music and make your way into the next room.

What you saw, you did not ever expect to see.

Noah was propped up on the couch and Lestat was next to him, latched onto his neck. You screamed and covered your mouth as you took in the sight.

Lestat looked up at you. Blood stained his lips, his eyes were wide, but he remained cool and collected.

You ran.

It’s all you could think to do. You ran right out of there and down the street. People turned to look but you didn't care. You needed to get away from that place. Home was the only place you could go. You wouldn't be able to face anyone at the theater.

Noah is dead.

You saw it with your own eyes. Lestat killed him and… and…

No, you had to have hallucinated that last part. Your mind was playing tricks on you.

Vampires weren't real.

@awanderingghost @theprettiesthead @cosmixstar @theblueslytherin @katherine2098 @sawendel @floofdeloop @sitkafay @bigbaddie45 @bluscryn

@secretisme4

[babiebom]

Ranking The Doctor Incarnations by How Much I’d Get Along with Them

A/N: my obsession with doctor who is back!!! I’m waiting on the new episodes and it’s actually killing me. I put off watching the last 15 minutes of 13s last episode to wait for the specials then couldn’t hold off on watching all of the specials in my excitement so I have no more media to rely on:( ALSO this is nuwho I explain it every doctor who post bc I feel like it needs to be said that I still haven’t watched classic who.

Tw:some cursing, some sexual mentions, some bullying lmao

Wc:its rankings and headcanons idfk babes

Doctor Who Masterlist

This is going to go from who I’d get along with most to least <3

1) Eleven

Okay so he wasn’t my first doctor or the doctor I started liking the show for

That was nine <3

But when I do daydream about being the doctors companion he is the one that becomes the default in my mind

Like I think I’d get along with him the most

I have no idea why it’s just if I’m daydreaming he is the one whose arms I run into

He’s the one I’m fighting for

And it might sound insane but I just know in my heart that if I had to be a companion of any of the doctors I’d be his.

I also do think that there would be a romantic aspect but it would be because I’d have a big honkin crush on him and I’d bully him for it

Like EWWWWW him? He has cooties. Weird alien cooties that I don’t want on me HMPH.

He just seems sweet and chaotic and the most fun to be around

I also think he would dance around the console room with me.

Like we’d be absolute fools together I think we would give ten x rose vibes like not the romance just the comfortable vibe between the two (and maybe romance if he likes me <3)

2) Fifteen

I know he’s new

But HOLY HELL

He gives off bestie vibes

And I know with his whole “luck and coincidences are a new language that I’m learning” thing

Sorry I forgot exactly what he says and I’m writing this while watching another show

Is right up my alley

Like YES

This is chaos and it’s fun and he already seems more….relatable?

Maybe it’s the tism

But like he’s who I would want to go on an adventure on.

Like oopsies my bad forgot we were on The same team in this game

Lemme just casually get trapped in a giant snowman balloon thing(I forgot what they’re called)

Then tell the police that it’s literally fine and that I’m busy

It would be VERY fun to be with him based on what I’ve seen

Would also dance around the console room with me

Nine

I think we’d get along greatly when it comes to the silly things

But with the more serious things I think we’d have a falling out

Because unlike the other companions I am not here to make you better

I will make you worse

Like when Rose stopped him from killing that Dalek in the beginning

I would been like 👀 okay you killing him or not. That beef has nothing to do with me I won’t stop you from getting revenge

Mostly bc I am the type of person that believes in revenge instead of “being the better person”

Like letting them go means letting them continue causing mayhem

Like TAKE THEM OUT

Like not to get off topic but Batman annoys me bc why arrest the joker or the penguin again and again and again

When you could literally save tons of people by getting rid of them

Would probably be mad at me after like “now why tf would you let me do that????”

“Idk you wanted to so??????”

Maybe I would make him a softer person but overall I’m just along for the ride like brother YOU know everything I am just here

Ten

I love him with all my heart

But he would piss me off

Like we would get along

But if there’s any feelings involved he would just make this insufferable if he doesn’t like me enough to stop comparing me to rose

I am a tenmartha believer fight me

Don’t fight me I’ll cry

But like he sorta seems kinda….thoughtless when it comes to poc and it’s not in a purposefully offensive way but like I said it’s thoughtless

If it’s a world where rose didn’t exist, or she didn’t impact him like she did I feel like he would be sweeter

But also more of a fuck boy

I do think he has romantic compatibility with almost everyone so again that would be a problem or fine depending on how he reacts

That’s why he’s this low because I feel like it GREATLY depends on his moods and it’s sorta unpredictable for me.

Thirteen

She kinda had a “I know everything and you know nothing” attitude that I didn’t enjoy

And that would make us have a big falling out because while I am the type of person to follow almost mindlessly

I hate it when people speak to me as if I’m dumb it’s one of my pet peeves

But other than that I think we’d get along fine

Like I feel like it would be mostly fun with her other than the “im better than you” thing she has going on

Like I feel like getting to see Rosa parks

And the one where they go to the vacation planet

And the whole competition that was the first like travel thing

Like while I didn’t like the writing of the episodes that much I thought it looked really fun!!

She would be fun to be around especially with her awkwardness

Like I feel like how socially awkward she is makes everything better because it would be me and her traveling and neither one of us understand social cues properly

Like EVERYONE is gonna be uncomfortable

Super funny

Twelve

While I LOVVVVVVVE twelve with all my heart

I do not think he would be fond of me

Like he likes people that ask the right questions like Clara and Bill are VERY intelligent and curious and clever people

And I’m not

So I think he wouldn’t really enjoy my presence

Like the others could get over my personality

I feel like he would be unable to

Like he’d find me boring and uninteresting and maybe not unworthy of his time but he wouldn’t find traveling with me fun

He’d be like “wHY do you NOT ask the important things??????”

I would also fall in love with him and he’d be like “oh….no…..no thank you…...”

Fourteen

Is literally just ten but sad and old?

But also learning to love himself?

I feel like they’re the same but fourteen is wiser and less self absorbed?

Which means he should probably be higher

But I still have the belief that they are one in the same

So it doesn’t really matter that he’s last because it evens out?

[arrowflier]

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#5

I had other plans but I’m tired so it’s drabble day!

Breathless

@galladrabbles

Mickey had always thought it was stupid, the way girls talked about being breathless.  Like suffocating on an experience they hadn't asked for was something special.  He knew there was nothing romantic about the pain of not having air, except--

Except with Ian.

Running through alleys with Ian behind him, chest burning.  Laughing on rooftops with Ian's hands on his sides, stomach aching.

Staring into eyes that hold the world, hand in hand, unable to breathe.

"I do," he manages, a breathless whisper from his heart.  And as he shares what little air he has with his husband, he understands.

131 notes - Posted July 25, 2022

#4

Please please please write Mickey’s reaction to Ian having black hair when he walks into the prison cell thank you xxx

Probably not what was expected, but here's them talking about it that night!

See Me In the Mirror (on AO3 or continue below)

“Still can’t believe this shit,” Mickey mutters late that night, as they lay together on the too-narrow bottom bunk.

“Believe what?” Ian asks, too preoccupied with tracing fingers over Mickey’s chest to really care.

“I come in here expecting a fucking firecrotch,” Mickey jokes, “and you’ve gone and hidden the ginger for the first time in your life?”

Ian shrugs, shoulders barely moving against the mattress. Mickey gets a hand up into his hair, and he lets him.

“Almost turned right back around,” Mickey says, softer, letting Ian’s close-cropped curls slide through his fingers. “Told ‘em they gave me the wrong cell, took back my cooperation.”

Ian chuckles, and smiles. Still can’t quite believe that Mickey is there, that Mickey turned himself in, that after all of his bad decisions he ended up with a reward.

“Had to do something,” he says, eyes slipping closed to the rhythmic motion of Mickey hand on his head. “Was gonna run, you know,” he adds. “Maybe join you down in Mexico.”

Mickey laughs.

“You’d never have made it past the state border,” he says. “Black hair or not, you’ve never been good at flying under the radar.

Ian disagrees. Thinks he’s done pretty well at it for most of his life. The middle child that fades into the background, the man doing just well enough not to raise brows. Even half out of his mind with mania, he’d made it farther than anyone expected.

He doesn’t bother to argue. It doesn’t matter. What matters is Mickey, and his face close to Ian’s on the pillow, and his hand in Ian’s hair.

"Why black though?” Mickey asks, tugging at dyed strands. “You miss me that much?”

"Hmm?" Ian murmurs, whacking at Mickey's arm before settling his hand there instead.

"Couldn't see me in person," Mickey explains, "so you made it so you'd see me in the mirror?"

Ian opens his eyes. Blinks Mickey into focus, the faint freckles on his nose so close they seem to dance, never quite settling.

“No,” he says honestly, and wonders if he should have lied. But Mickey doesn’t frown, and he doesn’t pull away. He just lies there tangled in Ian, fingers stroking through artificially dark hair.

“I like that, though,” Ian muses, leaning into the touch. His thumb strokes Mickey’s wrist, once, twice, and he doesn’t let go. “A little piece of you on me where everyone can see it.”

And he does like it. Rather a lot, actually. That after years of hiding, and years of being apart, a stranger could look at him and see Mickey.

“What about you?” he has to ask.

It’s Mickey’s turn to hum in question.

“You ever miss me so much you tried to dye your hair red?”

Mickey snorts, the hot air of it blowing against Ian’s face.

“Nah,” he says, “I’d have to bleach it first. Helped Mandy do that once,” he adds with a grimace, “and trust me, it’s not worth it.”

“Not even to feel close to me?” Ian asks.

“Never,” Mickey confesses. “Kind of avoided anything that color for a while, actually.”

Ian feels like he should be upset by that, maybe. That Mickey avoided reminders of him when they were apart. And he must think about it a little too long, let his face show a little too much, because Mickey is cupping his face in his free hand a moment later.

“Not like that,” he assures, and leans in even closer. Their noses brush together, and Ian’s vision is filled with an endless, hazy blue.

See the full post

138 notes - Posted February 10, 2022

#3

I’m wondering, would any of Ian’s siblings snoop around his new apartment with Mickey?

If this wasn't a prompt...sorry it is now.

Curiosity Killed the...Carl? (also on AO3)

Carl wasn’t supposed to just be walking into Ian and Mickey’s apartment.

He knew this, because when he asked for a key a few weeks before, they said, “Carl, we don’t want you to just be walking into our apartment.”

But if they didn’t want him to slip into their apartment, after using Liam’s emergency key to open the door just a crack, they should have been a little more specific. Shouldn’t have expected him to read between the lines.

Besides, he needed something. Several somethings, actually, that had apparently ended up in Ian’s things before he moved. Things like Ian’s army knife, and Ian’s sleeping bag, and Ian’s coat. Things that he really should have asked Carl before taking.

So he slid inside on socked feet, his boots hanging from his hand by the laces, and let the door click shut behind him. He waited, just for a second, even though he knew they weren’t there.

Then he dropped his shoes on the floor, turned on all the lights, and went searching for what he wanted.

He hit the kitchen first. Checked the table, pushing through random pieces of mail addressed to Mickey, to Ian, to Mr. and Mr. Gallagher. The last one was altered, Milkovich inserted right above in Mickey’s handwriting, with a little heart scratched in red between the names.

Nothing he was looking for. Not even a gift card or a scratch off he could nab, just boring bills and furniture catalogs and a reminder that Mickey needed to go to the dentist.

He moved into the living room, next. Checked under the sofa for the missing knife, but found only a dead battery and some really stale popcorn that he spit right back out. A bunch of used tissues, too, that he left right where they were. And between the sofa cushions, just a few nickels, and weirdly worn-out tie he had never seen either of them wear, and a bottle of…

He threw the bottle back where it came from. Lube. Ugh.

Carl sat back on his heels, and sighed. He’d thought finding what he needed would be a little bit easier. But he wasn’t a quitter—anymore, at least—so he stood and headed off down the hall.

He made the probably-wise decision to bypass the bathroom, and headed right into the bedroom. Opened the closet—just shirts, and jeans, and some weird strappy leather thing he didn’t look too close at. Opened the drawers—just underwear and socks, and more underwear, and more underwear, and more…

Yeah, okay, they had a lot of underwear. Kinda weird since he was pretty sure they shared that stuff.

He was just getting down on his knees to peek under the bed, sure of finding something, when he heard the front door close.

The front door that he was pretty sure he had closed already.

“Yo, you leave the lights on?” Mickey asked from the entry, and Carl froze. “Thought I told you to stop wastin’ money when we ain’t home.”

“Oh please,” Ian said back, footsteps moving into the apartment proper. “Like you don’t keep it way too warm in here so you can lose the layers as soon as we get inside.”

“Don’t hear you complainin’,” Mickey pointed out, and then two sets of footsteps were moving down the hall.

Carl stared at the open bedroom door. Then at the closet, still ajar, too shallow to hide him. The window, locked shut, too high to crawl out of.

The footsteps kept coming. Carl panicked. And slung himself under the bed just as Ian and Mickey entered the room.

“Man, we left shit a mess this morning,” Mickey mused as he came in, stopping just shy of the bed to look around. Carl pushed himself further toward the middle, hand slipping on something rubbery and familiarly shaped that he refused to look at.

“Well, we were running late,” Ian admitted, his shoes moving toward the open closet door. He shut it with a click, bent down to pick something up off the floor. “You know, since someone wouldn’t let me get out of bed.”

His voice was sly, and smug. Carl could see the edge of his smirk until he straightened, and kind of wanted to puke. Even more so when Ian haphazardly threw whatever he had grabbed under the bed without looking, and a pair of dirty boxers almost hit him in face.

“Come off it,” Mickey returned, laughing just a little. Carl freed himself from his brother’s nasty underwear and turned his head to the side just in time to see Mickey’s rugged boots stop between Ian’s clean sneakers, way too close to be standing a normal distance apart.

“You’re the one wouldn’t stop touchin’ me,” Mickey accused, low and sultry. “And would you look at that…you’re touchin’ me now, too.”

A chuckle. The sound of lips meeting, and parting. Carl squinted his eyes shut, tried to block it out—

Then his brother’s belt hit the floor next to his head.

See the full post

148 notes - Posted January 6, 2022

#2

can i have mickey talking to ian about ian's "how do you know you love all the versions of me" stuff after they are engaged? just putting ian's fear to rest once and for all, please!

By request I'm now crossposting same day (or trying to) so read below or on AO3. Happy New Year everyone!

Auld Lang Syne

The Gallagher house is louder than ever on the eve of the New Year. Music and talking and cheers, echoing between walls that have seen more celebrations than anyone inside remembered.

And Ian, standing alone in the kitchen, nursing his single beer and watching his family through the entry to the living room.

“Damn, these Gallagher parties are really somethin’ else,” Mickey says as he slips around and into the kitchen. He makes straight for the fridge, opening it with a creak to grab an Old Style from the pack on the door.

He opens it one-handed, kicking the door shut, and takes a long swig before joining Ian at the counter.

“What’re you hidin’ in here for?” he asks, nudging Ian’s shoulder with his own.

Ian makes a show of steadying his drink, earning the crinkle at the corner of Mickey’s eyes that he loves.

“Just needed a little quiet,” he says softly, taking another sip of his own beer. He turns his attention from his family to his fiancé , reveling in the fact that he can.

“It can be a bit much, this time of year,” he explains to Mickey’s raised eyebrows. “Don’t get me wrong, I love it,” he adds, “but it’s been a while since I really had something to celebrate.”

Mickey smiles, a soft simple thing that makes Ian heart thump harder.

“You do now, though,” he says, and it isn’t a question. Just like it isn’t a question when he reaches over, takes Ian’s beer right from his hand to set it on the counter behind them. Like it isn’t a question when he slots himself into the space it leaves between Ian’s arms, and wraps his free hand around Ian’s waist.

It’s a casual intimacy that they’ve had a lot of lately. But that doesn’t make it any less special.

Ian smiles down at Mickey, down at the man that will be his husband. Wonders how he ever thought that wasn’t right.

“Glad we get a fresh start, that’s all,” he says, leaning back against the counter. He tugs Mickey closer between the spread of his hips, and bends down to meet Mickey’s smile with his own.

Except Mickey isn’t smiling anymore.

And he isn’t nestled in the curve if Ian’s hips anymore, or the fold of his long arms. He’s backing away, and frowning, and reaching for the booze he’d set down when Ian pulled him in.

“Mickey?” Ian asks as the other man chugs the rest of his beer. “What did I say?”

Mickey finishes his drink, scowls, and reaches for Ian’s abandoned bottle.

“Fuck fresh starts,” he says sharply, downing that one too. “Our first start was fine.”

And Ian is lost. Truly lost, for the first time since Mickey said yes. And though he knows it shouldn’t, the sudden uncertainty makes him angry.

“Fine, huh?” he prompts bitterly, pushing off the counter. “That what you call quickies in your bedroom while your dad was locked up?”

On anyone else, the expression on Mickey’s face would have been a wince. But on Mickey, it’s a challenge.

“Freezing our asses off at work cause it was the only place no one would see,” Ian continues, not sure why he’s arguing not sure how to stop, “that was a good time for you?”

“And what if it was?” Mickey counters, going to the fridge to grab a new beer. “What if I ain’t got a problem with that?”

Ian snorts.

“Then you don’t have a problem with the fact I was fucking Kash,” he says, and hates himself for it. Goes on anyway. “Or that I ran off when you got married.”

Mickey slams the fridge door shut without getting his drink, stares at the childish art on the door like it has the winning argument written within.

Ian knows it doesn’t, because that argument is already on his lips.

See the full post

178 notes - Posted January 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I tried to do a prompt but my brain is like molasses tonight.😭  Have whatever this is instead.

Ian wakes up with a snort, his chest compressed by Mickey’s entire body weight.  He shoves at him urgently until he rolls mostly off, only his head and arm remaining in place, and gasps in a breath.

“Not that I don’t love this,” he manages once he gets some air into his lungs, Mickey already grabbing hold again, “but what’s going on?”

“You were snoring,” Mickey grumbles, and holds on tighter, tugging Ian just a little too firmly toward him.

“So you tried to suffocate me?” Ian asks, even as he gets an arm up to hold Mickey in turn.

Mickey, who mutters something without lifting his head, and doesn’t bother to open his eyes.

“What was that?” Ian asks.

“Said I like it,” Mickey mumbles into his chest, rubbing his face into the soft cotton of Ian’s sleep shirt.  “Makes you all rumbly.”

“Rumbly?” Ian repeats, and then laughs.

“Yeah, like that,” Mickey answers sleepily, his head bouncing with the movement of Ian’s chest.  “A fuckin...massage pillow.”

“Can massage you better than that,” Ian offers suggestively, snaking a hand down Mickey’s back.

“Mmm, later,” Mickey says, and presses his nose to Ian’s breastbone.  “Do the rumbles now.”

And Ian laughs him right back to sleep.

234 notes - Posted January 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[sapphicwhxre]

ASTERIA'S 2.5K FOLLOWER FIC REC LIST

i read fics just as much as i write them so here are some of my favourites. tysmsm for this milestone, i love you all <3 quick note: i didn't re-tag anyone if i recommended more than one of your works because of the tag limit.

───────── girls ─────────

hermione granger

tuesdays - @stupxfy

probably one of my all time favs for hermione. it's just so well written and adorable and fluffy and yes.

if i could tell her - @hellounicorn

pining, pining, PINING. the way these emotions and hermione's described is just... art. perfection. there's a happy ending and it is so worth the build up.

darling dearest - @dracolvr

fluffy goodness. read to be hopelessly in love with hermione ─ which, let's be real, we all are.

november rain - @pansydaisy

uhm i love this one sm. it's so simple but amazing ─ everyone has their days like this and having hermione to cure them? it's what everyone needs.

i need more - @15-dogs

i sobbed the first time i read this. it'll break your heart but it's so amazingly written that it's worth the sadness. actual gut wrenching / mindblowing writing.

how the potter girls react to you in lingerie - @pottersanime

the title. need i say more?

honeyed eyes - @minty-malfoy

HEAVEN. being hermione's first kiss as friend? but both of you idiots liking each other? oh my god, sign me up.

hugging her from behind - @pastanest

again, the title. read to feel 🥺💙

grey days - @pepperimps01

PANSMIONE 😌😌 it's angsty with a happy ending and i love it sm. this does such a perfect job of capturing pansy and hermione's relationship growing and having its ups and downs with just a few paragraphs. honestly so good

grenade - @hellounicorn

another one that'll make your heart shatter. but in the best way. these are the fics i live for where the you can't help but feel like it's really happening to you and hermione and god it's so fucking powerful. underrated writing right here in general. and also pansmione is the loml so it hurts in that way.

honeybees - @pansydaisy

fluffy aesthetic heaven.

lead the way - @teacup-tai

more pansmione but this is pure filthy thinking and satisfies all the sexual tension dreams pansmione shippers have.

two queens in a king sized bed - @shysneeze

domestic christmas morning with hermione and it's angelic.

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

one of those blurbs i never imagined i'd read or love so much. not to mention it's spot on and adorable.

pansy parkinson

right and wrong - @starrkidmalfoy

a first kiss and the overdone trope that i will never get sick of, the bitch who's soft only for you. the descriptions in this are perfection and the writing is beautiful <3

messed up - @writseo

toxic, messed up love fics will be the death of me. insane how well you captured it all and i just yes damn fucking props.

pansy parkinson imagine - @moonlight-imagines

*screams* THE BEST FRIEND BANTER + THE ENDING OH MY GOD OH MY GOD ─ I SCREAMED WHEN I FIRST READ THIS. I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE IT.

dating pansy would include - @lotsoffandomimagines

ABSOLUTE POWER COUPLE SHIT and to this day, pansy saying "jealous much?" when being scolded for pda remains iconic.

grey days - @pepperimps01

as i said before: PANSMIONE 😌😌 it's angsty with a happy ending and i love it sm. this does such a perfect job of capturing pansy and hermione's relationship growing and having its ups and downs with just a few paragraphs. honestly so good

new rules - @silversslytherin

excuse me this is immaculate ─ pansy is the best friend and the second you see that she's also the best s/o, you're done for. perfection.

study "dates" - @turning-dreams-into-chaos

the title is self explanatory and this whole thing is fluffy heaven <3

how the potter girls react to you in lingerie - @pottersanime

read the title, thank me later.

lead the way - @teacup-tai

more pansmione but this is pure filthy thinking and satisfies all the sexual tension dreams pansmione shippers have.

traitor - @hufflepuff-writings

a masterpiece where pansy chooses the wrong side in the battle of hogwarts. this ties up so well and the writing is so powerful.

back alley love potions - @a-simple-imagine

this actually hurts but in a beautiful way. watching pansy give draco a love potion is such a fucking concept and this is executed incredibly.

my little bunny - @emmamarie7708

pansy making you do this is so dirty yet she's slightly sweet and i am a sucker for it. god is a woman and her name is pansy fucking parkinson.

pansy parkinson imagine - @moonlight-imagines

i'll let pansy beat people up for me all day. they put me in madame pomfrey's, feel my girlfriend's wrath.

ginny weasley

blissful - @enyastasia

fluffy ginny goodness. the friends to lovers? the amazing kiss? 🥺🥺🥺💞💞 this fic lives in my heart <3

bubble pop electric - @hunnypot-imagines

this is hotter than a lot of actual smut and the chemistry is so... wow. ginny weasley owns me.

dear ginny - @alyssamalfoy

how does this short ass letter manage to make me feel so much. it's sorcery but i don't even care, it's beautiful.

wildflower - @pansydaisy

will i ever get tired of cheeky i love yous? not when loves like ginny weasley and ayli's so so pretty writing exist.

all i want - @hellounicorn

ouch. fuck you harry :) quite possibly the best ginny fic i have ever read. insanely talented writing, i genuinely feel every touch of emotion you put down and you need to know how amazing that is. keep breaking my heart.

linny hcs - @bluebirdlinginthenest

who doesn't need good linny content in their life?

how the potter girls react to you in lingerie - @pottersanime

sexy bitch, fuck me up.

willow - @padmeamiala

ginny is the loml. her brothers can cry about it.

bellatrix lestrange

attempting to bake with bellatrix - @carters-coffee

MY FAVOURITE BELLA FIC ─ there's not enough bellatrix fluff out there but this makes up for the lack of. heaven.

bellatrix prompt - @carters-coffee

this gives me chills. she knows she's a bad bitch and that's what we love about her.

change of plans - @dumb-sbian

why THE FUCK have i not had a rainy morning with bellatrix? she can sleep and mumble something just like this and i'm still head over heels for her.

being tortured as bellatrix's girlfriend - @writings-of-a-british-fangirl

definitely a concept BUT this makes me feel some type of way and i recommend giving it a minute of your time 😌

bellatrix finding out you're a muggleborn - @carters-coffee

the beauty, the nuance omg. this is art.

bellatrix prompt - @carters-coffee

yep jealous bella. trust me, im all yours mommy <3

sex with bellatrix would include - @onegayastronaut

so short but... sign. me. up.

luna lovegood

never leave - @/deactivated

luna smut is hard asf to come by and this is my favourite. it's so luna and the pain over her not knowing, not getting that closure about how you feel until this is an amazing rollercoaster.

she - @hunnypot-imagines

the beauty of falling in love with luna, through this majorly talented writing. ten out of fucking ten. i will not elaborate but there's also majorly good association in this imo.

silver berries and flickering fireflies - @duskgrangers

i love this fic so much. she's so herself and that is why we ✨ simp ✨ and the scene set just sounds so prettyy

how the potter girls react to you in lingerie - @pottersanime

luna + this title? yes please, ma'am i am simping.

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

put me in your pocket luna. im begging you.

dancing in the rain with luna - @/deactivated

only luna would get you a dress to go dancing in the rain and this is the stuff of blissful, fluffy dreams.

hugging her from behind - @pastanest

short and cute, do me a favour and read it :)

dating luna lovegood would go like - @glossymalfoy

life is NOT worth it if you don't read these cute little headcanons and imagine dating ravenclaw's baddest bitch.

linny hc - @bluebirdlinginthenest

like i said, who doesn't need good linny content?

cho chang

strawberry kisses - @pansydaisy

the only cho fic i've been able to find and it's SO WORTH IT. the cutest, it flows so well, and i absolutely love it. i need this with cho tbh.

fleur delacour

toutes les etoiles - @coffee--writes

im in love with fleur and this amazing writing. and for the first time since i started high school, my three years of taking french feel good for something.

being best friends with fleur would include - @harrypotter-imaginess

not romantic but actually so sweet pls. i want this friendship in my life so bad.

nymphadora tonks

dating nymphadora tonks would include - @imaginesforgirls

dating her + that warm little feeling of bliss that only HCs can give you

taking care of her after the war - @random-imagines-blog

this kind of hurts in that good ass way and i lovee it. they're simple hcs but i feel for tonks so much and then there's that warm lil feeling when you're the one to put her back together aand now my primary life goal is to help this woman heal.

───────── boys ─────────

harry potter

phosphenes - @minty-malfoy

ok shakespeare, the fuck?? this fic will never not get me right in the heart. the angst, holy fuck. and for once, the reader doesn't hurt harry and let draco walk all over them and it's just done so well. the transition from a toxic relationship to a sweet, loving one PLEASE. it's beautiful.

happy memories - @15-dogs

how does this manage to be so. smutty and fluffy at the same time? this is one of those short ones that has lived in my head, rent-free since i read it. and tbh any fic that includes expecto patronum is guaranteed to be good.

come back to me - @wondernimbus

right from the beginning, it's a mess of emotions both good and bad. that kind of good ass writing that hits you in the heart <3

making out with harry potter would include - @badfvith

read this title. done? now thank me later.

harry prompt - @thoseofgreatambition

harry x a sarcastic swooning bitch is an elite trope idc. short and sweet, i'm marrying this fic.

keep your eyes on the prize - @rowema-ravenclaw

first of all, showing harry up and second, pure fluff (and a little steam) right after. i also love how she writes harry in general because he's totally safe/in love with the relationship but still has that awkward lovable shyness and i just... *sighs*

always - @pansydaisy

uhm i will always love him and always reread this a thousand times so its a fit title + a good read.

late night studying - @lumosandnoxwriting

fuck studying, let his hand stay in my shirt. once again recommending fluffy bliss in the form of a short read that makes me feel things <3

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

he's so stupid. but he still loves you + this is from our resident perfectly talented writer so its a win.

cuddling after a rough quidditch practice - @badfvith

harry james potter is : b a b y

gryffindor's victory - @rowema-ravenclaw

make me gryffindors fucking cheerleader because HOT HOT HOT HOT HOT. AND THE WRITING IS IMMACULATE PLEASE. just read it, you won't regret it.

draco malfoy

silent treatment - @slytherinwh0re

andy's mad talented and this is just... insert a cheesy chefs kiss. unbelievably adorable but so fucking hot and an actually good smut plot (which is rare lmfao). remind me to give draco the silent treatment every time im upset.

rewards - @malfoysstilinski

so hot PLS. hype him up for the match and get your reward, bye. so good.

reading between the lines - @minty-malfoy

i've said this a thousand times but that's what happens when you've got a mad talented mutual BLESSING everyone with beauty like this. butterflies and warm feelings all around when i read this 💓

point of view - @draconisxcaput

its angst for hermione and fluff for you but overall ethereal writing. i am never going to recover from the pure talent that this is.

im not kidding im dying - @malfoysmatrioshka

i hate being sick with a passion but this... this would make it worth it.

hogwarts express - @/deactivated

draco fucking you because he knows harry's watching. the shit of legends and god is it hot.

draco laughing at you because you can't walk after sex - @glossymalfoy

*motions to the title* fluff with this loser 😌

the cheeseburger - @slytherinwh0re

really short read but this is one of those things i just. didn't know i needed. you're missing out and haven't even realised it if you haven't read about introducing him to cheeseburgers. and that ending is so funny/in character to me i fucking love it.

four am - @malfoysstilinski

domestic draco 🥺 but also sad draco 🥺 and then fluffy draco 🥺

hugging him from behind - @pastanest

real short and it'll brighten your day <3

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

how is it that this is so stupidly adorable. i love it 💘

ron weasley

heather - @hellounicorn

always making me cry with your fics i swearrr. this is a must-read. having someone but them not really being yours is a beautiful trope and this fic absolutely does it wonderful, poetic justice. your angst is addicting.

apple pie - @pregnant-piggy

ABSOLUTE DOMESTIC BLISS I AM IN LOVE. i don't even like kids or baking that much but this made me so soft. the whole cozy, heavenly vibes from this fic yes yes yes.

jealousy - @writeroutoftime

cliché jealousy turns friends to lovers and i am a sucker for it all over again <3

shaking and trembling - @ronsbadidea

if ron doesn't finger fuck me and then make a cheeky comment about it in class later then WHAT IS THE POINT :(

mixed signals - @iamthecabbage

i've always figured ron is this awkward idiot cutie with a crush and yea, this is it.

fred and george weasley

i love you, but you don't - @george-fabian-weasley

fred's a character i really don't read for often but goddamn. it's the saddest, most beautiful mix of rejection and pain and fred desperately caring but not in the way you want him to ─ an angsty masterpiece.

cockwarming george - @roonilwazlibimagines

because of this filthy gem, i one hundred thousand percent believe that he could make me cum without even fucking me and this is just... it's a good fucking read.

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

their responses are so wonderfully chaotic and adorable and GOD you're missing out if you haven't read these lil blurbs.

─

[ohworm-writes]

BNA: Brand New Animal Relationship Headcanons!

bna masterlist

‼ General Dating Headcanons ‼

Featuring: Shirou Ogami, Michiru Kagemori, Nazuna Hiwatashi, Marie Itami, Pinga

Warnings: spoilers for BNA!, some angst amongst all of them, but mainly tooth-rotting fluff :,)

a/n - thank you for reading!!! BNA doesn’t have enough fanfiction content, so here you go!! i actually adore doing headcanons, so this was nice to be able to write!!! BNA is also my favorite/comfort anime soooooo I couldn't NOT write something for it!!! if you want to see more BNA related works, i’m definitely going to be open to writing them in the future!!! my requests open up next week, so drop one then if you’d like!!! thank you for reading <3

content below the cut!

shirou ogami

» wolf husband!!

» oh we all know he’s gonna be nervous when it comes to love

» he’s scared he can’t trust you at first

» it’s probably gonna stay that way until he gets comfortable with you

» which, albeit, takes quite a while

» but when he does?

» he’s all over you!!

» i like to think he’s a very cuddly person

» he doesn’t show it a lot though, but for you?

» he’ll let it slide

» he’s not one for extravagant gestures though

» so if you’re going on dates

» expect it to being either at his place, or something extremely simple

» i don’t think he’d be particularly for PDA

» but if someone were to flirt with you?

» he won’t be afraid to show them that you’re with him

» again, very cuddly

» he likes to be big spoon cause he wants to make you feel safe

» but he also likes to be held

» the memories of his comrades dying is a memory that’s painfully engraved into the very fibers of his being

» so please show him some love

» kisses!!!!

» oh he LOVES to smother you with kisses

» he’s very affectionate in private

» he just loves you so much!!!

» i like to think that michiru got the two of you together

» just like

» michiru: hey look at that beastman over there! they’re super pretty!!!!

» shirou: yeah, sure

» michiru: i’m going to go say hi

» shirou: w h a t

» also, going back to trauma-

» he doesn’t like to talk about it much

» it brings up bad memories

» so he won’t outwardly talk to you about it

» but if you want to console him?

» you’re one of the few people he can really trust and get vulnerable with

» VERYYYY LOYAL PARTNER

» he loves you, and is so scared of you leaving him

» he would never think about cheating on you (the best boy)

» maybe it ties in with him being a wolf beastman-

» shhhhhhhhhhhh

» very very very nervous to tell you that he’s the silver wolf

» he’s so scared you’re going to leave him or hate him or look at him different

» but the sweet kiss you give him when he tells you melts all of his worries away

» GIVE HIM PETS!!!!!!!!!!

» he’s embarrassed but he loves it!!!!!!!!

» his love language is quality time!!!!!!

» he just wants to spend time with you

» he’ll go out of his way to blow off unimportant things (like michiru-) just to be with you

» softie-

» but we love him <3

michiru kagemori

» AHHH MY SWEET GIRL!!!!

» i love her oh so much

» if she likes you, it’s obvious

» painfully so-

» she gets all flustered before you start dating whenever she talks with you

» tripping over her words

» making a fool of herself

» (somehow more than usual-)

» but when you express you like her back?

» you’re stuck with her

» loves cutesy dates!!

» you wanna just watch a movie???

» she’s got a pillow fort and a ton of snacks at the ready

» you wanna go for a walk?

» you’re dancing with her under the stars in the park

» she’s a sucker for that kind of stuff

» she loves showing you off too

» michiru: everyone, this is my partner, y/n, and they are the best person in the world

» y/n: michiru i-

» she absolutely introduces you to everyone like that

» she loves you too much not to express it!!!

» that leads me to her love language…

» words of affirmation!!!

» she’s going to tell you she loves you at any chance she gets

» and if you’re ever insecure?

» she’s your girl

» she’s also big on physical touch

» loves holding your hand out in public

» hugging you and peppering your face with kisses

» the whole lot!

» she’s such a goofball-

» she’d do something stupid just to make you laugh

» michiru: Y/N! I GREW WINGS! AM I GOING TO LAY AN EGG OR SOMETHING???

» when she first told you she wasn’t a real beastman, she was nervous

» but it all washes away when you hold her and tell her you love her no matter what

» she’d definitely cry at that

» she’s so grateful to have you

» and she would go to any extent just to make you happy

nazuna hiwatashi

» GOD SHE’S SO PRETTY I’M NOT EVEN GONNA LIE

» she’s a very caring partner

» when you first start dating though, she’s very nervous

» will you hate her for faking the silver wolf?

» or maybe because of her slightly dismissive behavior?

» but when you decide to stay? she know’s shes in love

» her love language is touch!

» she always wants to be touching you

» she’s not the best at expressing her love or gratitude through words

» so she lets the soft caresses, forehead kisses, and cuddles do it for her!

» oh i can imagine her being a cuddle bug

» just holding you while the two of you fall asleep

» or you holding her!

» she adores just being able to be near you

» when she introduces you to michiru

» it’s chaos

» y/n: in my defense, I was left unsupervised

» nazuna: wasn't michiru with you?

» michiru: in my defense, I was also left unsupervised

» just being absolute idiots together

» back to nazuna though…

» she gets jealous easily!!!

» you can’t change my mind

» if she thinks you’re giving someone too much attention

» she won’t be afraid to just come in and hug you until you pay attention to her

» it’s adorable

» with the church of the silver wolf tho…

» you probably met AFTER that was all said and done

» she doesn’t really have followers anymore

» and a few beastman still hold a grudge against her

» she gets insecure because of it

» make sure to tell her that you love her for her

» she really needs to hear it

» oh! she loves any romantic gestures

» fancy dates? walks in the park? sign her up!

» she loves too much not to show it

marie itami

» crime weasel

» cbhmasbbchasb okay but seriously i love her

» i like to think that she’s sly with her flirting

» but if you flirt back?

» she’s a flustered mess

» she lovesssss pet names

» she particularly likes using “baby”, “love”, “sweetheart”, and “hun”

» loves if you use some back

» her love language? acts of service

» she loves to help you with small tasks

» opening the door for you? absolutely. grabbing the remote for you? of course!

» she wants you to know she loves you, but mainly in smaller gestures

» not as much of a cuddle bug as the rest, but definitely appreciates it

» she’d never turn you down for hugs or pecks

» any time she has by herself, she wants to spend it with you

» her dates aren’t extravagant though

» cuddling on the couch and watching a movie are her specialty

» i like to think that she usually falls asleep after you

» she’ll talk with you until you eventually fall asleep

» it’s more of a protective thing if anything

» she wants to make sure that you’re okay before she rests

» she loves you so so so much

» you’re the only person she’s allowed herself to be vulnerable with

» she has her own insecurities yes, but she tends to bottle them up

» she doesn’t want to bother you

» she’s better at listening and giving advice than venting it out

» it’s not your fault, she’s just not very keen to it

» she likes to keep your relationship more private than anything

» her job is… not normal, and she doesn’t want to eventually end up making the wrong people mad and get you hurt

» so PDA is kept to a minimum

» but she’ll always make up for that in private

» telling you how much she loves and appreciates you being with her

» she doubts your relationship sometimes, thinking that you deserve better

» tell her you love her

» that you really love her

» and her heart is yours

pingua

» your honor

» i love him

» oh my goodness his love language is totally gift giving

» 100%

» you cannot change my mind

» if you look at something in a store for more than 3 seconds

» expect it to be in your possession by the next day

» he won’t say he did it

» but he totally did it

» taking you on flights???

» yes pLEASE!!!!

» he loves showing you the world from his eyes

» and adores it if you love it as much as he does

» wing hugssssss

» imagine him just draping his wings around you while you guys cuddle

» my heart-

» wait, here me out-

» y/n: mcdonalds! mcdonalds! mcdonalds!

» pingua: mcdonalds! mcdonalds! mcdonalds!

» HE WOULD THOUGH AND YOU CAN’T CHANGE MY MIND

» not afraid to get vulnerable with you

» he’ll talk about his comrades and the stupid regulations with ease

» yes, it’s a tough subject

» but you have to talk about difficult things to get through them

» he has nightmares because of it

» he wakes up in cold sweats sometimes, those images ingrained into his head

» hold him

» please

» tell him that you’re here and you’re not going anywhere

» give him kisses and help him ride it out

» aside for that, another goofball

» loves, and i mean LOVES making you smile

» also a HUGE flirt

» he’s cocky about it too

» pingua: aside from being adorable, what do you do for a living?

» y/n, dying: cjsdbivcbhshdkcjbakjcbhsadbmc

» another one who loves romantic gestures

» i like to think that he’s quite the gentleman

» restaurant dates and dancing are right up his alley

» but dear god he loves you so much

» he has no clue where he’d be without you in his life

[weasleylangs]

lightweight - g.w

Pairing: George x Fem!Reader Summary: Y/N’s never been the best at holding her alcohol. Luckily, George is always there to help her. Warnings: Alcohol, a drunk confession, fluff, brief mentions of underage drinking, one line about throwing up. Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Short Georgie fic today! I have work so I didn’t want to commit to any of my super long ideas but I still want to keep writing! Also, I’m not promoting excessive drinking whatsoever. As always, constructive criticism is appreciated and requests are open!

This is also being posted while I’m asleep because I’m stuck on the other side of the world to the rest of you. Any asks will be replied too when I’m up!

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George stands in a corner of the Leaky Cauldron, firewhiskey in hand as he looks at the crowd. Their yearly reunion has been going on for a few hours now, and George has finally started to feel the alcohol buzzing around his head. Despite having already downed quite a few whiskeys, he’s barely been feeling it all night considering he’s always been a heavyweight, given his large stature.

The same can’t be said for the girl George’s eyes are trained on. Y/N Y/L/N. She’s currently dancing with Angelina Johnson, the rosiness in her cheeks evident from both the exertion from dancing for hours on end and the alcohol in her system. George has fond memories of Gryffindor parties, when Fred, Lee and himself would flirt their way into buying alcohol from Madam Rosmerta to sneak into parties that would eventually end with the girl he’s watching dancing her heart out.

“Babysitting already, mate?” Lee asks as he takes a swig of his beer and George chuckles, shaking his head. “No, not quite yet. I probably will be in, say…” He checks his watch and the time reads 1am, “... half an hour.” 

George developed a habit when they were sixteen, of looking after Y/N at parties. The girl never seemed to learn her own limits and more often than not, drank herself stupid at parties. Y/N was one of George’s best friends, and he’d never forgive himself if he ever let her get hurt at a party, so he happily settled for basking in the party atmosphere while keeping a close eye on Y/N. And then, in the morning he’d tease her while she threw up the contents of her stomach and she’d apologise profusely before they’d walk to breakfast together.

It’s been 10 years and they’re still dancing and drinking and George is still looking after her, but instead of walking her up to her dorm, George drags her back to his apartment above Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and tucks her into his bed while he takes the couch. Granted, Y/N’s has developed some better limits than when she was sixteen years old, but it’s a force of habit at this point, and besides, George rather looks forward to it nowadays and his night would feel incomplete without knowing Y/N is 100% safe and sound 100 meters away from him. 

Fred approaches them, and they aimlessly stand around and chat. Mostly about quidditch, very rarely about work. These days, the hot topic of conversation is about how Lee’s been splitting his time between London helping the twins out with the shop and Romania, where his dragon trainer girlfriend lives. Sometimes, a few people approach them and ask the question if they’re the ‘famous Ginny Weasley’s twin brothers’ which always causes them to laugh and their chests swell in pride for their little sister. 

It’s probably only twenty minutes later when he hears a squeal come from the dance floor as some muggle band’s song comes on. George thinks Y/N probably convinced Tom to let her hijack the music and he vaguely recognises the song as one she’s played before. He searches the dance floor for her, and when their eyes meet she winks at him and quickly spins around to dance with Angelina again.

“I can’t believe she’s not even your girlfriend and you practically babysit her, mate. We’re 26, when are you making a move?” Fred teases but George ignores him. He notices Y/N catch his eye again and when she goes to wave him over, he sees her wobble slightly and her eyes widen out of fear of losing her balance. 

Truthfully, George is too scared to admit his feelings for Y/N. While he knows their friendship entails more than what a normal one does, George has never been the best at reading signs when people are romantically interested in him so he well and truly does not know where he stands with Y/N. He never wants to make people feel uncomfortable, so he lives blissfully unaware until someone yells in his face they’re interested in him. 

“Piss off, Fred. Like you can talk about me not making a move. You’ve liked Angelina since what? Sixth year?” He pushes Fred slightly at the shoulders as he scowls and slowly makes his way over the tiny girl in his sights. 

“Hi Georgie,” she slurs as he finally makes his way over to her and she’s quick to slot herself into his side. George is well aware Y/N is both a sleepy and clumsy drunk the second she stops dancing, and as George checks the time on his watch again, it now reads 1:30am and it’s well past intoxicated Y/N’s bedtime. 

“Hi, love,” he can’t help but use the nickname for her, especially when her cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red when he uses it, “time to get you to bed?” 

She pretends to think for a second but George knows she’s all danced out when she sighs and tucks her head into his neck. He spots Lee and Fred, who are now imitating whips at him, and shakes his head as he waves goodbye. He makes sure to tell Angelina, Katie and Alicia they’re leaving as well so they don’t worry, and George pretends to miss the giggles and winks they give Y/N as he holds onto her. 

Thankfully, the Leaky Cauldron isn’t far from 93 Diagon Alley and soon enough George is placing Y/N in his bed and finding a change of clothes for her. It’s the middle of November, so he grabs a random old sweater his mum knitted him a few years back and while he looks for the pair of leggings she left here last time, he hears her soft gasp. 

When he turns to look at her, her eyes are fixated on the sweater in his hand. “That one’s my favourite.” 

George has a million sweaters, enough to fill a whole drawer full of them all in different colours, so he’s confused how Y/N knows which one this even is. 

“It’s the one with the frayed hand-holes, right?” George laughs at her usage of ‘hand-holes’ and unfolds the sweater to take a look at the sleeves, and sure enough, right where your hands pop out, the sleeves is fraying. 

“Why is this one your favourite, darling?” He questions, passing her the sweater. He turns his back to her, giving her some privacy as she takes her top off and she hums happily as the scent of George engulfs her senses. “It’s one of your oldest ones. So the Georgie-scent is the strongest.” 

George feels his cheeks heat up as Y/N slips the leggings up under her skirt and then struggles to undo her buttons. “Georgie-scent?” 

She hums in agreement as she finally gets the skirt off and drops it on the floor next to her. She’s curling herself up under the blankets when she looks at George and before her sober thoughts can catch them, drunk words are tumbling out of her mouth, “Reminds me the most of my Amortentia.” 

George pauses and stares at her, processing the words she just said. George only received three O.W.L’s during his time at Hogwarts and none of them were potions, but of course, he’s well aware what Amortentia is. He sells them at work, after all.

The most powerful love potion in the world.

“Firework smoke, Molly’s home-cooked meals and… Alcohol.” She mumbles when George doesn’t speak and she looks like she’s fallen asleep but George knows she isn’t. 

“Sure it isn’t Fred, love?” He laughs as he asks but his insecurities are there, shoved way down into the pit of his stomach, threatening to spill out. Firework smoke and his mum’s home-cooked meals scream both of them without a doubt, and George can’t help but convince himself that Fred could definitely have an explanation for the alcohol. 

Now she’s realised what she’s said, and she takes one look at George and she shoves her head into the pillow. “God, this isn’t how I was planning to tell you.” She’d actually never planned on telling him, convinced someone as perfect as George Weasley would ever love her back, but her brain had other plans.

“Tell me that you like my brother?” He jokingly questions, the insecurities fading but still feeling the need to tease her. When she laughs and rolls her eyes, George knows he’s calmed her down from a perch she didn’t realise she was on. She sits up quickly and her face looks a little green at first for how quick she moves. “Who looks after me when I’m drunk, George? I don’t see Fred anywhere.” She’s smirking now and George has to resist the urge to crawl into bed with her and kiss her senseless. 

“My Amortentia smells like you as well, by the way.” The smile Y/N gives him is bright enough it could light up the City of London. “Really?” she questions, and the way she sways in bed George can tell she’s still intoxicated and he can only hope she remembers this conversation in the morning because he knows he won’t be brave enough to initiate it again. 

“Really. Sunflowers, chocolate and…” He hesitates, laughing at how dumb they both are, “Firewhiskey.”

She screeches in embarrassment and before he knows it, Y/N’s dragging him into his bed and she’s giggling. “That’s so embarrassing!” she exclaims, “But so expected.” 

They roll around in the sheets for a few seconds, trying to grab at each other and laughing at the coincidences before George gets up and changes. Y/N watches him intently, trying her best not to objectify him in her mind but he’s just so damn gorgeous she can’t help it. She wants to kiss every inch of his skin and let everyone know the wonderful man standing in front of her is her's.

And when he goes to slip out of the room, thinking she’s fallen asleep, she pouts and clears her throat, causing him to turn and face her.

“You. Me. Bed. Cuddling. Now.” She says, nay demands and he has no choice. He slips into bed beside her and once again, for the second time that night, she’s slotted herself next to him. 

“I really do love you, you know.” She mutters against his neck and she feels his breath hitch. “I’m not just saying it because I was drunk. I mean, like I said it because I was drunk, but it’s true.”

George pauses, not wanting to upset her with what he says next, “Are you going to remember in the morning?” He’s trying not to let his fear be known, but with how close Y/N is, he knows she felt his body react subconsciously. Y/N’s had nights when she doesn’t remember anything she’s said- not because she’s drunk too much, but she’s naturally a forgetful person and the alcohol doesn’t help. 

“Of course, and if I don’t because I don’t remember tonight… I’d hope you’d tell me.” She reassures him, looking up at him and pressing a soft kiss to his chin from her position in his arms. 

George lets out a breath and looks at the girl in his arms and decides that he can’t keep it to himself anymore and that he’d shout it from every rooftop that he’s in love with Y/N Y/L/N. So he presses a kiss to her forehead, next, her nose, then her cheeks and lastly, a soft kiss on her lips.

“I promise I will. You and me forever.” 

[myonepiece]

Luffy, Sanji, Usopp headcanon- he sees you dancing with someone else

•~•~•~•~

You’re already together btw

Luffy

•How dare you

•You were at a lively town resturaunt in the village you docked in that morning

•Everyone was dancing and eating and drinking, just having fun and enjoying a break

•You were sitting in the corner watching your boyfriend eat an inhuman amount of meat in a dangerous amount of time

•As a familiar tune started playing, you jumped up and started to dance to the music, after a small while a man approached you and extended his hand asking to dance with you

•You thought nothing of it, seeing as it was only and a dance and everyone else was doing it

•You started top hop and twirl around the man, dancing on top of a table near the center of the room

•Everyone around you two were cheering- which brought the attention of your now “full” boyfriend Luffy

•He had been looking around for you after the meat was all gone, but when he saw you dancing with another man wearing a huge grin on your face, he felt a weird squeezing sensation in his chest

•Luffy’s face fell into a slight frown (you know the one) as he watched you continue to dance as if you had forgotten all about him

•He thought dancing like this was something you only did with him, because he certainly didn’t do it with anyone else

•It hurt to see you smiling so fondly because of another

•Luffy didn’t know what this feeling was- he felt like someone was squeezing his heart and stomach at the same time- he didn’t like it at all

•Passing that unpleasant feeling, was an emotion he knew- anger

•He burped (the one where his stomach shrink back to normal) and got out of his seat making his way to the table you were happily dancing on with the stranger,

•Luffy gum-gum punched the man off of table and he went flying out of the window

•Some people stopped what they were doing to stare with scared expressions, but the rest of the straw hats continued partying knowing that their captain could handle himself snd he most likely had a reason for punching the man

•You stared at Luffy with a shocked face but he just hopped onto the table and took you into his arms, then started dancing with you himself

•He spun you around while poking into your eyes with a serious face, a face you didn’t recognize on Luffy- that’s when it clicked- Luffy was jealous

•In hindsight you shouldn’t of danced with another man when your boyfriend was right there

•You leaned into Luffy and whispered a soft “I’m sorry” then backed away to be met with a passionate kiss from the straw hat

•Luffy pulled away and grinned at you

•You two continued dancing until you tired yourselves out

•You fell asleep in the corner, sitting on Luffy’s lap and his arms wrapped around you a few times and his head resting on top of yours which was tucked into the crook of his neck

Sanji

•Again how DARE you

•You were on a large ship that had left an island to travel to another, it was having a celebration on its way to the destination and it had stopped offering you and the rest of the strawhat crew an invitation

•So here you all were, dancing, eating, drinking, and partying

•After many upbeat and lively songs, the band started playing a slow romantic tune

•You were feeling a bit tipsy and started heading towards your boyfriend who was on the other side of the ship fighting with a certain swordsman

•While crossing the middle of the deck, you were blocked by a finely dressed handsome man asking you for a dance

•You tried to decline but he didn’t take no and instead placed his hand on your waist and took your hand in his other

•You decided one dance couldn’t hurt and placed your hand on his shoulder, softly smiling

•Sanji had finished yelling and turned to find you hoping to dance with you like he had a few times before because he’s perfect and romantic

•He spotted you dancing with the man and felt a sharp sting of pain in his heart, his stomach felt like he just gone over a waterfall

•Sanji’s face fell as he watched the man spin you and he started to doubt himself, something he didn’t do often

•He knew he was just a simple cook who lived a dangerous and unpredictable life, you would be happier with someone rich with a calm life like the man you were dancing with

•He always had these thoughts in the back of his mind- that he didn’t deserve you

•Sanji grew angry watching watching you continue to dance so he walked onto the center of the deck and pulled the man away from you

•Sanji placed his hands on your waist as you realized what has happened

•You started to apologize when Sanji placed a passionate kiss on your lips and parted whispering “It’s okay my love, just don’t leave me again”

•You kissed both of his cheeks then placed your hand on his broad shoulders, tucking your head into his neck and placing a soft kiss there

•You continued swaying to the music occasionally whispering sweet compliments to Sanji, making sure he knew how sorry you were, how amazing he is, and how much you love him

Usopp

•You disgust me

•You were attending a festival with the rest of the strawhats in the village you were currently docked at

•There was games, food, drinks, and dancing

•Your boyfriend had run off to look at a collectible shop, leaving you to wander around the festival yourself until you bumped into a handsome young man and striked up a conversation

•He offered to show you around the festival and you- tired of walking around alone- accepted

•It was sunset now and you ended up on the docks near the ship

•You could faintly hear the music playing in the town square and you suggested you go back, you wanted to spend the remaining time with Usopp

•You tripped on the docks as turned around, only to be caught by the man who pulled you back up and kept his hands on your waist

•You had your hands gripping his upper arms and he started to sway with you, saying that this is the time everyone in the village has a slow dance with someone

•You thought you should be respectful to the usual celebration traditions of the village and you didn’t want to be rude and hurt the man’s feelings by rejecting him

•As you two danced on the docks, Usopp was walking towards the docks to drop his new purchases off on the ship before returning to find you

•He stopped in an alley right before the docks, and saw a heartbreaking sight

•You were dancing with someone else

•You usually danced with him during any scenario that included dancing and he felt hurt, like you were cheating on him

•Tbh he thought of this as slightly cheating on him

•Usopp sometimes had negative thoughts about himself- he knew he was cowardly, and often a liar, as well as having a dangerous life as a pirate were he could never really have time alone with you

•When the man you were with turned you around, you caught sight of Usopp standing in the alley staring at you with a sorrowful expression

•It broke your heart seeing it and knowing you were the reason of his pain

•You quickly told the man you had to leave and ran towards Usopp, stopping a few frets away from him waiting for a sign giving you permission to come closer

•The things in Usopp’s arms dropped as his arms fell to his sides and he looked at you like you had just broken up with him

•The look alone was enough to make you start to cry and you started apologizing over and over “Usopp I’m sorry my dear. Please trust me it didn’t mean anything I was just dancing with him because he said it was a tradition-“

•Usopp cut you off by springing forward and wrapping his arm around your body pulling you close

•You could hear him sniffle and you hugged him back tightly still whispering apologies

•You still love me though right?” He asked as he pulled away

•You repeated yes over snd over again and pulled him back to you holding his head in the crook of your neck

•The two of you stayed like for awhile, you whispering compliments to him as well as apologizing

•You made sure to spoil him with complements and affections for the next week he deserves forever

[amiedala]

SOMETHING MORE (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 30: Something More

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: sexual content & descriptions of violence

SUMMARY: “I’m ready,” Din repeats, more fortified. You nod, and then beam at him and the baby, pushing your shoulders back. “This is a lot,” he says, his voice still tinged slightly with anxiety, “are you sure?”

You step as close as you can, reaching your hand up to bring his face down to yours, tipping your foreheads together. “Din Djarin,” you whisper, “I’m sure. We were always meant for something more. And,” you continue, smiling, mouth an inch away from his, “I don’t scare easy.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i am literally sitting here, emotional, crying as i write this. this has been the journey of a lifetime. i hope you all love this last chapter, and i hope it gives you that something more that Nova and Din found together. this last chapter, this grand finale, it's dedicated to every single one of you. thank you for being my readers, supporters, and friends. i hope this ending is everything you've dreamed. more notes, as always, are at the end. <3

*

A year ago, almost to the day, if you’ve counted correctly, you crash landed on Nevarro and the entirety of the rest of your life shifted somewhere huge and cosmic. You’ve always been a believer—in something bigger, something great, something more—but the second you met Din, and then the baby…well, everything seemed to just click into place. From Nevarro’s molten surface, to Bespin’s back alleys, to the excursions into the Mid Rim, to falling in love on Naator, to saying yes to the most romantic proposal on Yavin, to heartbreak and back on Dantooine, to all of the lives you’ve lost and the ones you’ve lived, all the way straight back into the Rebel Alliance, to losing your kid and your fiancé and then somehow coming out on top of it, ready to unite the remainder of the Jedi and the people of Mandalore and every single Rebel you know to pull off the greatest eradication of evil since the Death Star blew, you genuinely and sincerely can’t imagine your life being any other way.

And when you look over to the man you love, his helmet off, every contour of his gorgeous face in your full view, it makes your heart ache in your chest. Not in the way it did when you stumbled and drowned in the losses along the journey, not the way it did when he left you to protect you back on Dantooine, but in a way that feels just as huge and cosmic as the last year has been. You know war is on the horizon. You know there’s so many battles out there left to fight, and to hopefully win. You’ve come a hell of a way since being bounty hunter and babysitter, respectively. And all of it, every second, you think was worth it to get to this moment.

Because you’re not only about to be the wife of the king of Mandalore, you’re not only about to spearhead an entirely revitalized Rebel Alliance to take down the evil the Empire left over in the shadows, but you’re about to do all of it after meeting Luke Skywalker. And there’s something just as starry and explosive about your old life meeting your new one, just as bright, just as shiny.

Din’s quiet. You’re buzzing with adrenaline and anxiety and everything in between, but you’re trying to stay calm. Mandalore is a serene orb on the horizon, and you watch it through the blinking mirrors on Kicker’s dashboard as you slowly coast through the stars. Everything out here, when you’re not in warp, feels like everything is drawing towards something more. Not an ending. Never an ending. But there’s something poignant in each dazzling ball of gaseous light, as if this journey is a transformation.

“Where’s your head?” Din asks, lowly, and the spark in his voice is enough to break you out of your reverie.

“On you,” you answer, immediately, flashing a wide smile towards him, “as always, my big brave Mand’alor boyfriend.”

Din winces, just a little, but you can see the small beginnings of a smile etched into his face, a reflection of yours. “That one doesn’t seem as catchy.”

You laugh, throwing your head back, your loose hair dancing down your spine. You feel the way his eyes roam over you—not just hungry, not just with desperation—but with ease. So much has changed, and yet this, right here, the two of you in the cockpit, heading into the stars, this is so familiar you could do it in your sleep.

“Give me time,” you answer, finally, grinning back over at him, “I’ll come up with something better.”

Din’s quiet, and you turn your attention back to the space around you. It’s quiet out here. Peaceful, even though so much of the galaxy is rife with stress and there’s evil lurking out there in the shadows you and the rest of the team have to yank back into the light. And you know this is just the beginning—that the last time the Empire won, it took almost twenty full years to defeat them, and even longer to put anything right—but knowing you’re moving forward, you’re secretly married with the leader of a planet, you have an entire squadron of people caught from all haphazard places in the galaxy, and that your family’s going to be reunited in a matter of days, feels like you’re coming home in a way you haven’t felt in years.

“Nova,” Din starts, and then falls back into his silence. You glance back at him. The muted interior of Kicker reflects back onto the beskar, makes it look like it’s camouflaged. If it were anyone else, if you didn’t know him as intently as you do, you’d be on edge with Din disappearing into the ship. But you can feel his steady heartbeat, you know he’s right behind you, and, more than anything, he’s yours. Nothing about him scares you. Not even a little bit. Not even at all. “Do—do you really think we can pull this off?”

You sigh, flicking the switch so Kicker goes into autopilot, and then you slowly turn around him in your chair so you can face Din in yours. “Yes,” you say, gently, conviction seeping into your voice. “Yes, I think we can pull this off. You’re going to be the best leader Mandalore’s ever had, I’m going to work with the Alliance, we’re going to get our kid back, and we’re going to eradicate the First Order, whoever and wherever they are. We’re going to pull it all off, Din,” you continue, earnestly, leaning forward in your seat, holding his gorgeous gaze. “It’s not going to be easy. It’s not going to be quick. But we’re going to do it.”

Din holds your eyes. There’s something strange behind his own. “How are you so optimistic, even after everything?”

You blink, hand finding the Rebel insignia around your neck, fingers pressing down against the smoothness of the metal. You swallow. It holds heavier against your throat than your mother’s did, but something about the beskar carving makes it feel totally indestructible. A small beacon of fortification. Something to bring you out to sea and back to shore again. “Like I told Gideon,” you say, finally, “I have hope.”

He’s quiet. You are, too. Eventually, Din leans forward, hand linking with yours, meeting you right in the middle. “Don’t lose that.”

You shoot a small, guarded smile back at him. “I held onto it even when I thought you abandoned me back on Dantooine. I think I can keep this part of me alive forever, and I think it’s strong enough to keep it alive in you, too.”

Din stares at you. “I need you to know,” he starts, voice low and urgent, “that I’m so sorry. For leaving you. For not including you in my decisions. For—” he cuts himself off, inhaling sharply, “for breaking your trust. I messed up. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to fix it. All I can promise you,” he continues, hand tightening its grip in yours, “is that I’m never going to do it again.”

You look at him. There’s still that burning pyre in your chest, that fear that he’s going to disappear and not come back, that some sort of fate will lightning strike between the two of you, but the anger that lived there for so long has completely dissipated. You love him. You take a shaky breath, holding up your left hand. The beskar encircling your ring finger glints in Kicker’s low light. “I believe you,” you say, finally, laying it all bare. You inhale, biting down on your lower lip. “That’s what this is all about,” you continue, wriggling your fingers, “right? I know you,” you say, leaning closer, hair falling over your shoulder. His eyes track the movement of it, free, unencumbered. “I love you,” you continue, nodding slightly. “And I trust you. So I believe you.”

Din inhales. “Nova,” he starts, “do—do you ever think you’ll forgive me for leaving you back on Dantooine—”

And then he’s cut off, because Kicker starts screaming. It’s not the same warbled screech that haunted the comm back on Khubeaie, not that desperate kind of wailing. She’s warning you, you realize, as you let your hand drop out of Din’s and whirl back around to man the controls yourself. Din reacts almost completely in sync, but you saw the spark of ache in his eyes before he finished asking his question. Your stomach flips over.

Something’s failing. You know that. You’re not sure why, but the ship starts flickering and sinking, even when you’re supposedly moving on a full fuel tank, and even while you know you fixed all the major issues before you left Mandalore. Bo-Katan had even given the ship a very begrudging once-over, and you know her seal of approval is very hard to come by. Frustrated, you press all the right buttons, trying to calculate what exactly the issue is.

Your comm blinks. “Come in,” a voice rings, and for a second, everything floods into fight-or-flight. You’re running completely on adrenaline, still high from saying your wedding vows the night before, and you haven’t had more than one consecutive night of good sleep in months. Quickly, you flash your eyes on Din. “Come in,” the voice on the other end of the line says again, and it’s urgent enough for you to raise your wrist to your mouth, make you speak.

“Who am I speaking to—”

“Your ship’s haunted.”

You stare into the comm, back at Din, and then into your comm again, as if any of this will somehow crystallize the absolute nonsense that’s ringing in your ears. “What?” you say, still thinking you’re losing it, and then, before you can do anything else, you hear blaring on the other line.

“Not haunted,” another voice says, tiredly, and it’s not until Slave I pops out of warp that you realize you’re talking to Boba and Fennec. “Ships don’t get haunted,” she continues, “you just didn’t fix your disabled comm system when we first scrambled your signal. That’s the issue.”

You squint. You can’t see her, of course, everything about the ship is covered in tinted windows, but you want Fennec Shand to feel the full force of your disapproval and confusion. “You scrambled my signal? But that was days before—”

“Had to get a hold of you somehow,” the other voice says, and you exhale, shaking your head. “That was her doing. Not mine. The ship’s comm system is, for lack of a better term, haunted. Land on this planet.”

“We have to go to Hoth,” you protest, halfheartedly. “That was the plan.”

You can hear the wry smile in Boba Fett’s voice. “Oh, they won’t like me on Hoth, Rebel.”

You raise your eyebrow over at Din. By the way his helmet’s cocked, you know he’s laughing under there. “Too bad,” you shoot back, flipping switches on the dashboard as Din’s plugging in the coordinates to the ice giant nearby, “they’re gonna have to deal with it, because you’re with me.”

With a relatively boring flight and endless grumbling from Boba Fett, the two of your ships touch down on Hoth. It makes your stomach flip over. Everything in you is still buzzing—all that emotional resonance, all that fluttery anxiety of standing on the precipice of something more—and you can barely hear Din as he slips his helmet back on and gestures you to slide down the ladder after him. You feel alive. Dazzlingly, excitedly so.

Everyone complains about the cold. It assaults all of you the second the gangplanks are lowered, but there’s something so warm inside of you that you barely feel the bite of the chill. You flash a big smile at Wedge and the various members of the New Rogue Squadron as they greet you at the thermalock door, the warm breeze that greets you the second you step into the light downright summery compared to the ice.

“Did you talk to Luke?” Wedge asks, his voice low and complicated, as he leads your ragtag group to the control room. You don’t know why he’s whispering, but you follow suit.

“All I got from his last hologram,” you sigh, rubbing your icy fingers together, “is that he wants to see me in person.”

Wedge raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

You glance back over at him, eyebrows furrowed down the middle. “Yeah. Was that not what he told you?”

Wedge chews on his bottom lip. “He didn’t really say much of anything,” he admits as you round the last corner, “just that he needed to speak with you, as soon as possible, and that it was important. I’m not used to him being so secretive.”

You shoot him a small smile. “Is that unlike him?”

Wedge’s expression is wry, but his eyes sparkle. “The Luke Skywalker I know could talk to an empty moon for years before he realized there’s no one talking back.”

A grin breaks across your face. As Wedge walks around to his usual command spot on the other side of the holotable, you bite back your smile and stand at yours, feeling a very strange sense of pride as your unlikely team lines up behind you. Din is fully armored, but the set of his shoulders is much more relaxed than the last time he was there. Boba, especially with his newly refurbished armor, sticks out like a sore thumb. The generals across from you are defensive, not taking their eyes off of him for a second. Fennec doesn’t look like she belongs, either, but you have a very strong feeling that Fennec Shand doesn’t belong to anything except the chaos she craves. Still, there’s a determined set to her face that shows you she’s on your side. Mixed in with the rest of the semicircle are Cara and Karga, who don’t exactly blend in, but wear the same proverbial colors of the rest of the people at the table.

“New Rogue Squadron,” Wedge starts, his eyes dancing all over everyone stationed at the holotable, “meet our newcomers.”

“We’ve met,” one general says, disapprovingly, looking Boba Fett up and down.

Wedge lets Boba step forward menacingly for exactly two seconds before he steps forward, just an inch, and retakes command. “Refamiliarize yourself, then. We’re all on the same side here. We are,” he cuts himself off, lowering his voice, looking straight at you, “all on the same side here, right?”

You nod. “Who here wants the Empire eradicated for good?” Everyone’s hands go up. You cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at Fennec, the only one in the room that doesn’t have her hand in the air. “Fennec?”

She looks back at you, her eyes alive, a reflecting pool. “I like to be on the winning team.”

“Well,” you level, “here, you certainly are.”

She cracks a grin, and then her hand extends in a perfect line above her head. “I have a feeling,” she says, tongue snaking out and wetting her bottom lip, “that you don’t break promises often.”

“She doesn’t,” Din chimes in from behind you. You feel the heat rush to your cheeks, and you look back at Wedge, turning back over command.

“Alright then,” Wedge says, leaning forward, bracing each hand on the glimmering edge of the table, “let’s get started.”

The two of you talk first. You recount a very abridged version of the events, starting from when you and Din left Hoth last, all the way up to everything that happened on Mandalore. You glaze over the more unsavory bits back on Cantonica, only wincing slightly when you smooth over the fight in the back alley, the way that you were close to death. You can still smell that creep’s breath if you focus too hard on the memory, so you think instead of the way Din plunged the Darksaber into his chest. You bridge the gap by introducing Cara and Karga to the rest of the group huddled around the table, talking about your reunion on Nevarro, and how they were tracking down ex-convicts and members in the Guild, respectively, to uncover any new information on the Order. You finish, warily, with Gideon’s final statements, how he promised you the Order was going to come and take anyone with power they could manipulate for their own, how his eyes glinted when he told you that all Jedi would either be eradicated or turned into weapons. Finally, you close with his death, Bo-Katan’s measured rage, the battle over the Darksaber that chose Din again and made both of you basically royalty. Wedge’s face shifts as you tell him the last bit, your eyes very focused on his and not anyone else’s. You know that being associated with the current Mand’alor puts even more of a target on your back than it did when you were simply an exiled Rebel and bounty hunter, but you keep your chin up. You don’t care about the royalty aspect of it, don’t love the idea of being in charge of other people, especially after fighting for so long to be your own autonomous being. But you like the idea that Din is the rightful leader, and there’s not a chance in hell anyone—especially not the First Order—is going to take that from him.

You turn it over to Wedge, who’s still looking strangely at you. It’s not judgment. It’s not questioning. It takes about halfway through his opening remarks for you to classify it as pride. You step back as he talks, hiding a small smile.

“We have our work cut out for us,” he sighs, and you tune back in. “None of this is going to be easy. I’m going to ask you all one last time,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, a flurry of orange against the stark, cool interior of the base, “if you want out, this is where you leave. No hard feelings. But it needs to be now.”

No one moves an inch. Not a single general. Not Cara or Karga. Not Boba or Fennec, who both seem to be much more involved with this idea than they showed at first glance. Behind you, Din steps just an inch closer, and you feel your body filling up with warmth in his close proximity.

“That’s what I thought,” Wedge says, that smile of pride etched into his face again. “Here’s what we’ve found out. There isn’t a lot of information on anything related to the empire left, save for libraries and research archives, and of course, the lived experiences of everyone in this room,” He pauses, bringing up an image on the holotable. You see the flickering images of both Death Stars, and you hide a small shiver at how impending and filled with doom they look, even on this imitation of a screen. “We knocked both of these out,” Wedge continues, pointing at the rotating stars. “We made extra care to do it the second time,” he says, gesturing at the bigger and more reinforced of the two, “and then we tried to eradicate every single building plan the Empire had stashed away. I can’t promise that schematics didn’t survive, because I think there were parts of their regime that were a lot smarter than others. But we’ve made it our major effort over the last few years to put in as many annoying and massive roadblocks as we possibly can so that nothing can rise from the ashes. And yet,” he sighs, bringing up an image of Gideon on the screen, “this Order survived.”

“What makes you think they didn’t start after the Empire was eradicated?” Din asks, which causes more of the generals to mutter to one another.

“Because—” Wedge starts.

“I’ve seen this before,” you interrupt, gently. “Almost everyone associated with the Alliance did, too. I wasn’t alive when Darth Vader rose to power, but it didn’t just happen out of nowhere. It was calculated. It was planned. There was a large league of evil hiding under the surface, they were just good at hiding it. We wouldn’t have any idea that the Order exists now, except everyone we’ve fought has huge egos and can’t stop shouting it from the rooftops.” You glance back at Wedge. “I’m sorry. I cut you off.”

“You hit the nail on the head,” Wedge says, approvingly, giving you a quick nod. “With Gideon dead, it’s easy to think that most of the evil that’s terrorized the Outer Rim is gone, or—well, at least dormant. But that’s not the truth. They’re strategic in their darkness because they won’t survive without it.”

“Do we know exactly who we’re dealing with?” Cara asks, stepping forward. You watch as her strong, full figure fills the frame of the holotable. Everyone’s eyes are on her. “With Gideon dead, we don’t have much to go on.”

“I know,” you agree tiredly, dragging a hand over your face. “That—that was not the plan. But in that moment, it was what had to be done,” you amend, chancing a look back at Din. “No. There’s no new figurehead that we know of. From my experience—our experience—though, they wanted Grogu and me for a reason. It wasn’t to use our Force sensitivity as a weapon, like we had originally thought. They experimented on the baby when they took him,” you say, voice shaking a little, “and extracted something from his blood. Midichlorians. I don’t know, exactly, what they are or how they work. I’m a little new to the Jedi thing. But I know they have something to do with how we harness our energy, whatever it is that makes the Force up. Back on Cantonica, the people who tried to grab us insinuated using us—or our power—as weapons wasn’t their current mission, but it would be. And then when we spoke to Gideon back on Mandalore, he said the same thing. But his motivation may not have been the same.” You swallow. “He was scared,” you say, slowly. “Of them. The First Order. He admitted it. He was never in charge. He was a pawn, the same way they want to make us.” You stare at his rotating image on the table, tinted blue. You hate it. Even in this mugshot, he looks smug. It’s an expression that you know won’t go away for a long time after his death. “Whatever’s out there,” you finish, quiet, “it’s big, and it’s coming. We need to be ready. Because when it does, we’re going to have to give them everything we’ve got.”

“Well said,” Wedge says, looking around the room. “Anyone else got an update?”

A few of the other members of the Alliance step forward, confirming and denying a flurry of half-baked theories. Cara fills the rest of you in on what she’s learned from the people that are out of the prison system, which is really a whole lot of nothing. Most of the more dangerous criminals with the heinous crimes are still in prison, and those who have gotten out want to life a quiet, peaceful life. She talks about the refinery explosion back on Morak, the way she knows a few spots of Empire sympathizers, but other than surface-level information, she hasn’t gotten deep into any of her contacts. Karga and the Guild is the same. You can feel the way Din’s eyes are boring into him, the measured way he’s scrutinizing his face. Karga’s slippery, but he’s never posed a real threat, and there’s a kindness to him you wouldn’t expect in a bounty hunter.

Then again, you just secretly married one of the most dangerous bounty hunters in the galaxy, and under all that beskar, there’s nothing but a heart of gold.

You smile, hiding the grin under guise of your hand stroking your lip. As if he can read your mind, Din steps so that the plate of beskar on his thigh bumps up against the back of yours. Even through your pants, you can feel how cold it is, how unyielding. How different it is than the man who wears it. The rest of the Alliance turn in small bits and pieces of information. Wedge uses the holotable to input everything, to keep as both map and record. You stare as it projects more and more of blue data. If you unfocus your eyes, it looks like stars.

Eventually, the conversation dies down. “One more time,” Wedge calls out, “do we have anything else to update, or shall we divide and conquer before our next rendezvous?”

Again, no one speaks. The slowly cartographed map projecting up from the table stands as proof that even without a ton of information, you’re starting a long and valiant fight. You feel fortified on that alone. Wedge dismisses everyone, and then you hear a modulated voice behind you.

“Actually,” Din says, his voice rough through the modulator, “I have something.”

Wedge raises his eyebrow, nodding to encourage Din to continue.

“I…” he starts tiredly, sighing, “am the ruler of Mandalore now. I didn’t want it, nor did I ever ask for it, but it’s a responsibility I have to deal with. But I made a promise to Nova,” he continues, knocking his knee slightly against yours. To the outside eye, it doesn’t look like he’s moved at all, but you know it happened. “And I’m going to follow her. I’m in this fight as much as the rest of you are, now, and that’s not changing. So, I would like to move the Rebel base to Mandalore,” Din finishes, finally, to a mixed crowd.

“Mandalore,” the older general says, gruffly, “is not ours to claim. They don’t take kindly to strangers of our kind.”

“I know that’s the history,” Din answers evenly, “but it’s going to be different now. This…this First Order, they don’t seem to only be after Rebels. If we’re not careful and strategic about the way we fight back, they might slip through the cracks. I think cracking down on another fascist regime is something that the Rebels and the people of Mandalore could agree on.”

“I beg to differ,” Wedge says, but his voice is light. “Listen, we’ve been base-hopping since before the first Death Star was blown to bits. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s not a ton of us left. I don’t know if relocation is the smartest idea, not right now.”

You can feel Din’s anger underneath the suit. It’s not directed at Wedge, but the complication of accidentally becoming the ruler of an entire planet isn’t easily dissolved.

“What if we don’t move the base?” you step in. “What if we kept the order of operations on Hoth, but we have a small squadron of people who work out of Mandalore so we keep in touch? The commute is short,” you continue, bringing up the distance between the two planets on the table, “and scattering our protection across the Outer Rim is probably smart, anyway.” You look from Din to Wedge. Everyone else is quiet. “None of this is ideal,” you press on, slightly worried about the tension floating up around everyone in the room, “but I think we’ve more than proven that we’re on the same team, and that we’re going to fight like hell. If the First Order emerges from more than just these shadows,” you continue, chancing a glance around the rest of the room, “then we revaluate where the base is. But right now, I think we should focus on communication instead of relocation.”

“Fine by me,” Wedge answers, easily, and you feel the rest of the anxiety in the room lessen. “Does that work for you?”

Din turns to you. You nod, just once, pleading through your eyes alone. Finally, he gives a swift nod, agreeing without saying a word of contempt or assurance. You smile over at Wedge, nodding again.

“Then the rest of you are dismissed,” Wedge says, with a note of finality. Murmurs fill the room as people start flowing outside of the doors. He looks over at Boba, who, like Cara, Fennec, and Karga, haven’t moved an inch. “You’re really in this?” There’s something complicated in his voice. You can’t quite place it. “You’re not going to try to sabotage us? Or take any of us out?”

Boba steps forward. If you weren’t well-trained in Mandalorian body language, you’d take his commanding presence as a threat. Wedge bends his knees a little, lifting his chin. “I’m not a bounty hunter anymore,” he answers, voice low and smooth. “I’m just a simple man, trying to make his own way in this galaxy.”

You can tell from Wedge’s expression that he doesn’t trust a single word out of Boba Fett’s mouth. “If you won’t cause any harm to us,” he continues, “can you promise me that you’d say the same for Luke Skywalker?”

Boba crosses his arms. Wedge stands taller. “I want to knock Skywalker into that Sarlacc pit and come out in one piece,” he says, and even though his voice is even, it’s not filled with the malice it was when you first met him on Khubeaie. “I don’t care if he lives or dies. I just assume that he’s integral to this whole…eradication of the First Order. So until they’re dead and gone, I won’t touch a pretty blonde hair on his head. Afterward?” He pauses, as if to seriously ponder it. “I can’t promise you what I’ll do next.”

Wedge regards him. Because you’ve known him practically your whole life, you can see his tell of fear. It lives on, like a little flame beyond the blackness in his eyes. Finally, he nods. “That’s fair.”

Boba nods, relaxes his stance. He turns to you. “We’ll keep searching,” he promises, and you flash him a quick smile. Fennec nods, confirming his words. “We do still have unfinished business on Tatooine. But send us a hologram when you’re about to be coronated,” he continues, turning to Din. You can hear the wry humor hidden in his voice, “I want to see the look on the Kryze girl’s face when you’re officially Mand’alor.”

You want to placate Din by telling Boba that they’ve firmly agreed to a truce, but Din doesn’t rush to explain any of this to the other Mandalorian. “You got it,” he says, easily, and then the two of them are gone, heading back to where Slave I is parked. You look over at Cara, whose arms are still exposed in this icy room. She’s not even shivering. You think maybe she’s the only person in the galaxy who could literally intimidate cold and dissuade it from touching her. Karga, on the other hand, is practically turning blue. He’s swaddled up in furs and a very fancy jacket, and yet, you can hear his teeth chattering. “Back to Nevarro for us,” he says, his voice a lot more strained than usual. “We’ll keep looking, too. I know this isn’t going to be easy,” he continues, turning his gaze to you, “but we don’t give up.”

“Ever,” Cara enunciates, knocking her shoulder into Din’s, giving your hand a quick squeeze. “Really. You’re in good hands,” she finishes, dropping her voice an octave, glancing up at Din.

“Oh,” you say, grinning brazenly, “I know.”

She flashes you another smile before the two of them depart the briefing room, too, and you’re left with Din and Wedge. You look back at your old friend, and you still see that vaguely disguised concern in his eyes. For a few moments, no one speaks. You exhale through your mouth and watch as the cold lights it up into frozen air.

“What did Luke say?” Wedge asks again. His voice is urgent. “When he sent you that second hologram?”

You look at him, eyebrows furrowed. “He just—he told me that he needed to speak with me, and that when I saw you next, you’d give me the coordinates of where to meet him. That’s it.” Wedge inhales, his breath slightly shaky. “Wedge, what—?”

“There’s something wrong with him,” Wedge finally says. “There’s this…sadness to him, now, this quiet. When I first met Luke, he talked my ear off for three days before I was able to get a word in edgewise. He whined. He was oppositional. More than anything, he had the biggest heart of almost anyone else I’ve ever known.” His eyes meet yours. “You give him a run for his money, though, rebel girl. We—the last time I was…with him,” he continues, guarded. You have a feeling that he’s intentionally censoring himself, but you don’t push it. You know the way his face lights up whenever Luke is mentioned. And you haven’t met him yet, but you’d be more than willing to bet that Luke feels the same away about Wedge. “The last time we were together,” Wedge continues, “he…he told me that he was going to try and rebuild the Jedi Order, that he wanted to locate all of the sacred texts and find anyone else out there. To create a sense of community. Then he basically disappeared. I had to get to him through Leia, which wasn’t an easy feat, either, and she finally told me he was off on a planet none of us had never heard of before.” Wedge sighs. Something in you sparked when he mentioned Leia, and you’re trying your very hardest to keep your cool, because if there’s anyone in the Alliance you hold in higher regard than Luke Skywalker, it’s his twin sister. “When he contacted me again, he just seemed…heavy. Haunted,” Wedge amends, “and urgent. Like he’s running out of time.”

You stare at Wedge until his eyes find yours again. “I’ll help him,” you say, gently, stepping forward. “I don’t know what he wants from me. I only know him from stories. But whatever it is, I’m here to help. Okay?”

Wedge sighs. “Okay.” He looks back between you and Din, and then the small, easy smile he regularly sports flits across his face. “He’s on Ahch-To. In the Unknown Regions. He wants you to meet him there, and he wants the two of you to come alone.”

“That,” Din finally says, breaking his silence, “will not be a problem.”

Wedge smiles up at him, too. “I like you,” he says, gently slapping Din’s forearm. “Stay alive and don’t let this one go, Mandalorian.”

“Trust me,” Din assures him, as Wedge pulls the data drive from the holotable so that the two of you can keep a copy of everything in your journey to Luke and back to Mandalore, “those are my two top priorities.”

Hoth is cold. Space is colder. Usually, by the time you’re out in the stars, it’s impossible to feel empty and chilled, but you’re hurtling through warp to the Unknown Regions, and there’s something so dark and desolate about this corner of the galaxy. It’s ancient, from what you can tell, and largely abandoned. Something here is bringing you an odd sense of quiet, but mostly, you feel that haunted, desperate feeling associated with the lurking, looming threat of the First Order, and you’re trying your best to ignore it.

Din rises up out of his seat and stands beside you. He dangles both of his hands into your line of sight, and you gently undo his gloves, letting them drop to the floor. His fingers slip under the fabric of your shirt and start pressing on where the ache has blossomed and hardened. “You carry all of your stress here,” he murmurs, digging his thumbs into the knots that line your shoulders.

“Hard to feel stressed,” you hum happily, “when you’re doing this.”

He tips your head back. You stare upside down into the visor, and then his hands disappear from your shoulders to pull the helmet off. You hide your small sigh under the noise of the hiss that his mask makes, and when you’re face to face, something kickstarts like a drum in your chest.

You’ll never get tired of seeing Din’s face. Not now, not ever. It’s complicated and etched with so much worry, but when he looks at you, everything has quieted. It’s just the two of you, the crush of space, and the promise of being a real family on the horizon. It makes everything in you swell and burst like a eager tide against the shoreline. “I love you,” you whisper, and he strokes his thumb over your cheek.

He smiles. It’s such a rare thing, that genuine smile. It shines on long after it’s left his face. “Ni kar’tayl su,” he agrees, and then, so softly you may have imagined it, “Novalise.”

When he comes in for a kiss, he spins your chair around so fast that you don’t even have enough air in your legs. He kneels down so that his face is level with yours, knocking his forehead gently against his. You wrap both of your arms up and around his neck, staring into his deep, brown, expressive eyes as he holds both of your cheeks with the palms of his large hands, breathing in his scent of cleanness and metal and smoke and, still, cinnamon.

“Do you remember,” he starts, his voice thick, “when we…we first met, and I asked you how old you were?”

You nod, quietly, feeling his hair brush up against yours. “Yeah,” you say, softly. You can feel your heart beating quickly in the left side of your chest.

“That,” Din sighs, “was a year ago today.”

You look up at him, startled. “You counted?”

He nods, still with his forehead against yours. “You’re not twenty-five anymore,” he says, quietly, “and I didn’t get you a birthday gift.”

You smile, pulling away, only slightly, so you can see his eyes. “We have been a little busy,” you say, grinning. “I think I can forgive you on that one.”

He meets your gaze, low and intense. “Can you?” Din asks, and as you’re registering the weight of the words of forgiveness, he’s taking off your pants. There’s something desperate and hungry in his eyes as he works them off of you, dragging his bare hands up and over your thighs. You gasp with the lightness of his touch, and when his mouth moves up in between your legs, you think his tongue can work miracles. Huge ones. Devastating ones. You’re pretty sure Din’s mouth alone could bring about galaxy-wide peace, except you don’t want it anywhere except for buried in your pussy.

You let out a strangled moan, low and wet, and right as his tongue starts furiously circling your clit, Kicker starts fucking hollering.

You could kill her. You love her, the home you’ve made in her, how she’s kept you safe, but right now, if ships could be strangled, you would absolutely throttle her. Sighing, you wrench your pants back up over your hips.

“I’m not done,” Din warns, and the image of him wiping the slick off of his lips replays in the back of your mind as you try to yank your attention back to your screeching ship.

“What’s wrong?” you mutter, checking through the laundry list of flips and switches and buttons, trying to figure out why Kicker’s on high alert. It takes a second, but then you see it—black TIE fighters, wicked and sharp, arachnid and blending into the crush of space. “Shit,” you murmur under your breath, strapping yourself back in. Before you can warn Din to do the same, lightning-quick, he bolts his safety belt. You crack your neck back and forth, shaking your fingers free of the cold cabin interior and any leftover jitters you’re still feeling from Din’s mouth on you.

“Where did they come from?” Din asks, and you recognize that his voice is modulated, his helmet back on in a flash. “We’re in the middle of nowhere—”

“Warp,” you call back, as the first one fires. It’s not their stereotypical light blast—something about it is just as dark and insidious as their ships are. You escape it, but narrowly, and you yank Kicker up to evade the shot. “Every time. Every single time. How the hell,” you call back at him, firing off a few rounds of your own, “do they find us this easily?”

“Well,” Din answers, over the noise, “your ship isn’t exactly the most inconspicuous, even with the modifications—”

“Hold on,” you interrupt, barrel rolling over on yourself, evading another blast. It careens into some debris of a nearby asteroid field, and you wince as it collides. “Do you think it’s because they know that Gideon’s dead?” The word feels heavy in your mouth. You gulp, setting everything to stun, dropping some of your height so that you can avoid the new shots they’re volleying at you.

“How could they?” Din yells back, and then a blast hits Kicker. You scream with the impact, loud and uncontrolled, as it drains your shields. You can’t tell how bad the damage is, but nothing is burning or smoking, even though Kicker’s screeching at you again. You’re almost positive she’s a sentient being, at this point, because she’s always so humanoid in her reactions. You grunt, hauling the ship as far right as you can get, blasting one of the three fighters with your own artillery. “I’m going to arm the cannon,” Din says, and you don’t have time to tell him that the defense system at the back of Kicker is a mess of wires and buttons, and that you’re not even sure if the rear artillery works, before he’s gone in a flash.

It turns out, the rear artillery does work. It’s no masterclass in shooting, but Din knows his way around his weapons, even ones he’s never used before. You’re exhausted, but you yank Kicker up and over, avoiding another blast. You stare at the fighters as they whiz around you. There’s a darkness to them that you don’t entirely understand, but when they start shooting again, you’ve had enough. You hate killing. You still carry the tally marks of the lives you’ve ended deep inside your chest. You know all of them by heart. But you’re willing to let these people take a few punches with Kicker’s best cannons, because you’ve had enough of them trying to take everything you love away from you for what feels like the millionth time.

“Up!” Din yells from the back of the ship, and you take every single atom of strength you have last in your body to wrench all of the thrusters upward, careening Kicker dizzily into the mess of the stars above. The fighters follow you, lightning quick. Din shoots, hard and heavy, with what feels like all the ammo left on the ship, but then you’re out and the one right on your tail shoots another blast. Everything in Kicker shakes, screams, and then slowly starts to power down. You can feel her sliding into sleep.

“Not like this,” you mutter, furious, flipping every switch you can think of, trying to make it the right way up so you can recalibrate your defense, if you have any left, or at least punch in new coordinates so you won’t die out here, lost in the crush of space. That same, awful feeling that filled you when you crash landed on Dagobah is running through you again. The last thing you think before you start moving is how horrible and lonely your parents’ deaths must have been when they were spinning to their terrible, fiery end.

The fighter closest to you fires again. You unbuckle. If you’re going to die like that, out here in the middle of nowhere in the Outer Rim, you’re going to get to your secret husband first and you’re going to tell him that you love him, that you don’t want to die alone, and that after this, after everything, of course you forgive him.

But you don’t have a chance. You slide across the floor, and scramble towards the ladder, and you can hear the uncharacteristic noise coming from Din down in the hull, and then everything quiets. It’s not possible. It can’t be.

A single X-wing comes out of nowhere. You stop your struggle to get downstairs. You forget everything else. Your jaw drops as your eyes track the ship. You know it before you see him. You know it because literally everything in you is shaking and screaming, every single last part of you that harnesses the Force is kaleidoscoping in the shape of Luke Skywalker, but you watch, stunned into complete silence, as he delivers three blasts, knocking each fighter down into space. You watch their trails dizzy down to nothing as everything filters back in. Din hurls himself up the ladder, promptly crashes into you, and then you’re both tangled up on the floor together.

“Nova,” Din mutters.

“That’s—” you stop, blinking, trying to take the image in, still, everything locked on the X-Wing you can see out of the starboard window, jabbing at the shape of his ship with a shaky finger, “that’s—Luke Skywalker—”

“Kicker is failing,” Din says, patiently, and then, not nearly as patiently, he grabs your face. “Hey! You either need to get her down on the nearest planet or I will, but either way, I’m not dying out here.”

“Not dying. Right,” you say, dazed, and then the adrenaline kicks back in. “Um—” you get up, heaving yourself back to a standing position with all the weight you can on the heels of your hands. You throw yourself back into the pilot’s chair. Kicker is screaming. Your comm blinks, and you raise it, still not entirely aware of what you’re doing. “Hello?”

“You need to help me ground your starfighter,” the voice warbles across the intercom, and you choke back a sob. It’s him. It’s him. You have absolutely no idea what he means, but General Luke Skywalker is talking to you. “Your kid told me he did it before.”

You squint. “My kid—?”

And then, like the sound of a million tiny, glorious bells ringing all at once, you hear Grogu’s laugh. You choke back a sob. Din’s hand finds your knee, clenches it in something that feels an awful lot like relief.

“It’s too big for us to do it alone,” Luke’s voice rings through again, “you need to use the Force.”

And, holy Maker and all the stars above, you do.

It’s not easy. You have no idea how Grogu did this alone, especially since the Crest was so much larger and clunkier than Kicker, but you let Din pilot the controls as you work with Luke and Grogu to bring the ship down as easily as you can to the closest planet. It’s not the most populated place, and you have no idea what the terrain will be like, but you put everything out of your mind except for getting to the ground in one piece.

Kicker isn’t in the best shape when you ground her, but she’s alive and, like her namesake, still kicking. You’re going to need more fuel, and definitely some repairs on the starboard side, but you’re on the ground and alive. You disembark down the gangplank, shivering even in your Rebellion-issued parka, because this ice giant is just as frozen and formidable as Hoth is, and even vaster. Din looks completely untouched in his usual beskar, but he grabs and releases his hand as Luke Skywalker’s X-wing soars through the cloud cover, touching down a good distance away from your ship. Everything in you is alive and anxious, your heart beating out an intense staccato rhythm inside your ribcage. You know this isn’t a trick, that this is really Luke, that he has Grogu, that everything you’ve been working toward for the last year is meeting you face to face, but it’s still making your knees buckle under the weight of it. When you see him moving down the ladder, you can’t help yourself, running straight towards the ship. Luke turns around, and you skid to a stop in the snow, staring at him. When he shifts, you can see Grogu safely nestled in his robes, and you choke back a small sob.

The second your child sees you, he starts crying. You do, too. The chill freezes the tears on your face, but you don’t care, and you’re running again. Grogu stretches out his tiny green arms toward you. You vaguely register that Luke Skywalker has a smile on his face, but the only thing you’re focused on at all is Grogu, and when you pick him up, he smiles at you, sniffling, latching his small body against yours as tight as he possibly can.

“I missed you, bug,” you whisper. Your words are whisked away by the howling wind, but you don’t even care. You know he can hear it. “I missed you so much.”

He warbles, and you hold him even tighter, tipping your forehead against his tiny, wrinkled green one. Din catches up to the two of you, and you turn around, beaming, eagerly passing the baby to his dad. Grogu throws himself against Din’s armor, with zero regard to how cold the beskar is, happy to simply share in his warmth.

You’re still crying. Ugly sobbing, really, slobber all over your face, and you drag the sleeve of your jacket across your nose, hoping that it’ll amend some of your tears and the remnants it left behind.

“He’s missed you for a long time,” Luke’s voice rings out, and you turn around. You stare at him. He has a warm, big smile on his face, an unencumbered one, which is in high demand these days. His blue eyes are kind and endearing, and he tracks Grogu’s movements with great care. You stare at him, mouth slightly ajar, trying to dream up any words to string together to express your gratitude. “I’m—”

“General Skywalker,” you interrupt in a rush, wincing. “M—Master Skywalker. It’s such a pleasure to meet you.”

He smiles at you. “You can just call me Luke.”

You nod profusely. You have the strange feeling that you’re meeting royalty, and you don’t know what to do with your hands. “I—I’m Nova. Novalise. But you can call me Nova.”

His gaze drifts from your face to Din and the baby. He nods once at Din, and you can tell there’s something yearning behind his kind eyes. Luke looks back at you. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time,” he continues, stepping toward you. “I’ve seen you. In visions. In the baby’s head.”

You nod, swallowing. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

The wind howls. You shiver, feeling your nose turn red from the chill. Luke shakes a bit, too, which seems notoriously human from someone so legendary, before you remember he grew up on a desert planet and probably has zero resistance to the cold. He takes another step toward you. “How long have you been having premonitions?”

You blink at him. “How did you—?”

Luke offers a tired smile. “I can sense them in you,” he answers, gently. “You’ve been in mine. I can only assume you’ve seen me in yours. When did they start?”

“A few months ago,” you answer, honestly, sifting your weight more evenly between your feet. “I’ve always thought I was tapped into…something else. Something more. But this was different. It showed up in dreams, then the baby would show me his, then I started having them of my own. Sometimes, they’re clear, like before we met Ahsoka Tano. Sometimes, though, they’re vivid and completely nonsensical. You started showing up in them recently,” you tack on, faintly, “both how you look now and…what seems to be you much older. I can’t make sense of them.”

Luke tilts his head a fraction of an inch. “Have you ever met anyone else like you besides Grogu?” He offers up another small smile. “Or me?”

You shake your head. “No,” you say, earnestly, “no, it’s just…the three of us. Have you?”

The expression on his face changes, shifting enough for you to categorize the difference. “My nephew,” he answers, but there’s something slightly off about his voice. “I train him, sometimes, too. But he also has these visions, these—premonitions. For a long time, I was the only other Jedi I knew, and I just thought that was normal. I’ve been researching, and those types of premonitions aren’t the typical vision.”

You stare at him. “What—what are we seeing?”

“The future,” Luke says, grimly. “I think. I don’t know if it’s set in stone. But there’s this darkness coming. I know you’ve felt it. Wedge told me about your visions, but he didn’t need to.” His eyes search over your face. “I can see it. You’re like me, Nova.”

Despite everything, you grin back at him. “I can think of worse people to be like. Lucky me.”

And then you see it. What Wedge was talking about. A conflicted darkness flitters across Luke’s face, and then he does his best to absolve it. He does look so much older than you were imagining him to be—not by much, because he’s only a handful of years older than you are—but his eyes are haunted with an emptiness that comes with accumulated loss. And if he’s right, there’s more to come. Din steps in closer, carrying the baby. Grogu coos, and the youthful smile that Wedge talks about spreads across Luke’s face when he looks at the kid.

“I wanted to meet you,” Luke says, finally, turning his attention back to you, “because I wanted to see it in your eyes. The Force. I wanted to show you that…you’re strong, and you’re unique, and that can very easily make you a weapon. I’m here to tell you,” he continues, leaning in, “that you can choose not to be.”

You nod, locking eyes with him. “I’m a Jedi,” you say, slightly winded, but strong. “Or at least, I’m going to be. I’m not going to let the First Order take me.”

He blinks. “You know about the First Order?”

You nod again, then slowly shake your head. “No,” you admit, finally. “Nothing really beyond their name and their plans to use us as their weapon.”

Luke studies you carefully. “I thought—I was naïve, when I first started. I thought that turning my father back to the light and letting him kill the Emperor would end things. I was wrong. There’s more to come,” he says, gravely, looking out at the barren wasteland of the planet you’re on, “and I don’t think what died fully stayed dead.”

The familiar words rush over you, seizing in your diaphragm. “What did you just say—”

And then you’re cut off by the screech of TIE fighters. You flinch, grabbing the Darksaber off of Din’s belt, unsheathing the blade. There’s five of them. Luke, immediately, unholsters his own lightsaber, a piercing green. You’re captivated by it, by the determined set of his young face. He just looks like an expert. You take stock of his fighting stance, adjusting your legs to match his position. When the first blasts come, you brandish the Darksaber in front of you, sizzling away their attack. They swoop and soar around you. You hear the impact when one hits the beskar, Din knocked to the ground.

“Hey!” you call, running over to him, dropping the saber down by your side as Luke jumps and slices at the arachnid ships in the air. Your heart is in your throat. You didn’t see the hit, but you heard him fall, and frenzied worry is burning in your chest.

“I’m fine,” Din says, gruffly, “Fine, I promise. Go be a Jedi.”

You stare at him. He nods, wrapping Grogu up in his cloak, letting his tiny hands soar out in the open. Tiredly, the baby drags down one of the ships. More artillery is fired, and you pull Din and Grogu beyond a large shoal of ice, trying to avoid the blasts.

“Go be a Jedi,” Din repeats, and you shake your head. The fighters are so aggressive in their assault, but you watch as the swoop and soar around Luke, barely shooting anything in his direction. They want Din, you realize, like a lightning bolt in your chest, they want to attack Din and the baby because they’re after you. “Nova—”

“They’re trying to kill you,” you say, grabbing either side of the helmet as more blasts shake free some of the ice above your heads. “I’m supposed to be here—”

Before you can do anything, Din wrenches the helmet off. You stare at him, dumbfounded, trying to shield his face from the low, swooping fighters above your heads. “No—”

He kisses you. Full force. His lips are so much warmer than yours are, his tongue gentle and slithering into your mouth. You lean into the kiss, grabbing at him with everything you can, and then he’s pulled himself away. “I meant it when I asked you,” Din whispered urgently, “do you think you can forgive me for leaving you?”

Your heart is pounding. You can feel your eyes fill with tears. “Yes. But what are you—”

“Good,” Din answers, shoving the helmet back down, “then you can forgive me twice.”

And then he’s running, with Grogu in his arms, making a beeline straight for Kicker. You scream, but the sound gets ripped away in the wind. Terrified, you stare at Luke, who makes eye contact with you and extends his left palm, focusing on the first TIE fighter. You sheath the saber and run towards him, focusing all of your energy on the one that’s after Din. For what feels like forever, you stand back-to-back with Luke Skywalker, fighting off the evil surrounding you with nothing but the Force and each other. It feels huge in a way you can’t quantify, and even though you’re terrified with what Din’s doing, you don’t take your focus off the fighter for a second. When he’s back up the gangplank in Kicker, you help Luke tank the biggest one in the shoals of ice.

Two of them are grounded. You heave a heavy breath, trying to catch air in your lungs, and then the other three are delivering an array of artillery in your direction.

“Don’t let them touch my ship!” you scream, and Luke nods. You pull the Darksaber off of your belt, and swing it at the fighter that soars overhead, searing off their blasts.

“Nova!” Luke shouts back, and you turn to watch the holster of his green lightsaber fly through the air. Seamlessly, you grab it. The blade ignites immediately in your hand.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” you yell, and Luke twists around to stand by your side. You watch him as the three remaining fighters soar in above the two of you again, heart pounding.

Luke gives you a small smile. “What you’re meant to,” he answers easily, closing his eyes and lifting his hand to the three skeletal fighters in front of the both of you, “be a Jedi.”

You close your own eyes. Two people spill out of the fighters you’ve grounded, and you let Luke shoulder the three in the sky as you run, determined, towards the two men running angrily towards you. One of them lunges for you. You use the green blade to scare him off, but he doesn’t pay it any attention, just roars at you and tries to tackle you down to the ice.

“No you don’t,” you seethe, swiping the saber at his arm. It barely cuts anything, but the burn of it makes him howl. “You don’t get to have me.”

The other one is huge, menacing, built. You stare up at him, trying to only portray strength, not showing him a sliver of weakness, but when he comes for you, he’s vicious. This one’s smarter. He brought his blaster with him, and the bolts that he fires off are lethal and dangerous.

“You have no idea what you’re up against, little girl,” he smirks, and then, lightning quick, his hand closes around your throat. You’re not even sure how it happened, because you were brandishing Luke’s blade, and you’re much faster than the large figure in front of you, but the light behind your eyes starts to fade as he lifts you into the cold air, choking you out. “I’m not going to kill you,” he whispers, a horrible grin on his face, “what we’ll do will make you wish you were dead.”

You gasp, feeling the black spots in your vision slowly pinprick. You can barely see Luke. You don’t know where Din and Grogu went in Kicker. You can still hear the jeering of the soaring TIE fighters, and you know there’s only one thing left to do. You close your eyes, let everything run out of you backward, and then offer one, singular word to the universe.

Help.

Your consciousness fades back in. The man holding you drops you to the ground, and you wheeze and retch, trying to pull all of it back, stumbling away from his grip. It takes you a second to register what’s happening. Kicker comes out of nowhere, Din fires a series of blasts to the remaining fighters, Luke takes his lightsaber back to strike down both of the men, and above them all, Grogu has his eyes closed, his ears pushed back, and his little hands up in the air, using all of his tiny powerful body to Force choke the man who tried to throttle you.

You love him. Maker, you love him, so much. You cry up to him in relief, and the second he hears your voice, he stops, leaving the thug unconscious. Din uses up the rest of the artillery to blow the remaining fighters to bits, and then he grounds the ship.

The man, strangled, warbles out, “the First Order won’t forget this.”

Luke, icily, rises one eyebrow and his right hand, coaxing the man into a faint. “Neither,” he says, coolly, even after he’s sure the other guy’s out, “will we.”

“Thank you,” you say, warmly, rocketing the baby up in your arms. “Thank you, thank you—”

“His idea,” Din says, and you look up at him, both irritated and relieved. “I’m sorry I—”

“You,” you say, voice shaking, “are not forgiven.” But you jump on him as well, wrapping your arms around the cold beskar of his shoulders. “But thank you,” you whisper, in a voice so quiet that you know only he can hear it.

“This isn’t the end,” Luke says, behind you, and he tosses the Darksaber over to you. Din catches it midair with a singular hand. “This is just the beginning.”

“I’m not tired,” you say, exhausted, holding out his saber in your hand. “Thank you. For everything, thank you.”

“No. You hang onto that,” Luke says, finally. He has a strange expression in his eyes. “Keep the lightsaber. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you again, soon enough.”

Grogu, nestled up in your arms, stares up at you. You know, even wordless, what his huge eyes are asking. “Can we—” you start, voice shaking, “can—can Grogu come back to Mandalore with us for a few days?”

You wait with bated breath. Luke nods, meeting your eyes. “When you bring him back to Ahch-To,” he agrees, the ghost of a smile sparking up his face again, “bring my lightsaber with you. I’ll teach you a few things.”

You nod, profusely. Luke nods at the both of you, and right as he’s turning to go back to his X-wing, you find the rest of your question from earlier.

“What did you mean?” you call out, after him. “When you said what died didn’t stay dead?”

Luke’s eyes are haunted with something you don’t entirely understand. “Evil has a way of rising again,” he says, finally, “and I wouldn’t be surprised if the people I killed find a way to come back.”

It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “The people you killed?”

He looks at you. You know what he means. The Emperor, or at the very least, the horrible people who surrounded him. You swallow, trying to regulate your breath. “What—what can we do?”

Luke glances from Din to the baby to you. “Be a Jedi,” he repeats, his voice faraway. “I’ll see you soon.”

You nod, watching him, dazed, walk back to his ship.

“And Nova,” Luke continues, bracing himself on the ladder, “May the Force be with you.”

“And with you,” you whisper, watching as the X-wing disappears into the cloud cover, staring at the trails as they evaporate, as you hold the only tangible proof in the form of his lightsaber that Luke Skywalker was ever here at all.

The trip back to Mandalore is probably as cold as the one here, but you don’t even notice. You have the baby in your lap again, and all of the warmth in the whole galaxy is sitting here with you, green, adorable, and alive. The three of you spend the entirety of the trek cuddled up together, and when you finally land on the planet, you’re exhausted but safe. Your legs hurt from running, your scar aches from the residual cold, but you barely notice them. They’re such small hurts in comparison to all the good nestled safely in your arms.

Grogu, as always, is exhausted from using the Force to ground your ship and choking out the guy trying to do the same to you, and he falls asleep in your arms before you make your way back to the suite that Bo-Katan gifted the two fo you the last time you were here. You lay him down in the tiny bassinet in the adjoined room, his little snores just as quiet and angelic as they were the last time you heard him.

Your heart, still ran over from all the danger you’ve spent the last year fighting off, is full. You walk into the fresher, staring at your reflection. You’re positively disheveled, your clothes dirty and torn, your hair hanging half out of the braid you tied it in multiple planets ago, but that smile on your face is still lighting up even the darkest parts of your eyes. You stare at yourself, running your fingers across your lips, taking in every single inch of yourself. You don’t look like a normal twenty-six-year-old. You certainly don’t look like royalty. But you look like you. Nova, Her Highness Rebel Rouser Pilotess of the Outer Rim. Nova, wife, mother, Rebel. Nova, yourself.

That alone makes the grin stretch even wider. Din walks into the bathroom, staring at your reflection in the mirror, wrapping his big arms around your waist, letting his helmeted face rest on your shoulder blades.

“You are,” he sighs, “so beautiful.”

“I’m a mess,” you insist, giggling.

“Beautiful,” Din repeats, and when you tentatively hook your fingers under the rim of his helmet, he lets you gently pull it off. You stare at every sinch of his handsome, rugged face in the mirror, your eyes roaming over the valleys of his lips, the mountain of his nose, his gorgeous brown eyes that hold the stars.

“You are, too,” you whisper, faintly, and then he’s turning you around, his strong hands on your hips.

“I never finished giving you your birthday present,” Din murmurs, and he starts pulling his worn gloves away from his fingers. You watch as he lets them drop to the floor, breath hitching in your throat. “Do you think you could let me do that, cyar’ika?”

You nod, breathless. When he strips you down, you’re expecting to be perched on the cold metal of the sink as his mouth returns, again and again, between your thighs, but his warm, rough hands hook underneath your thighs and he carries you out of the fresher.

Din lays you down on the bed. He’s still fully clothed side from his helmet, and for what feels like an eternity, you just stare into his eyes, thanking the Maker and all the stars above that you’re the one that gets to know him like this, that he trust you to look at his face, that you broke down on Nevarro all those months ago.

And when Din dives between your thighs again, you know he’s thanking everything in the universe for the same exact things.

His mouth is an omen, a prayer, a miracle. You’ve never been particularly religious, but he makes you want to be. You can feel the way he’s opening you up, letting no part of you go untouched or untasted. You sigh, moaning loudly into the soft flesh of your arm, trying to stifle the animalistic noises he’s evoking. When his tongue finally, finally finds your clit, you can feel what he’s spelling. First it’s mine, then it’s your name, and then it’s I love you. You gasp. You could recognize it anywhere, even in the dark, and still, your pulse is absolutely racing.

“Din,” you start, strangled, “fuck—I’m—I’m gonna—”

He pulls his mouth away from you, an obscene smacking noise filling the rest of the room. “Good,” he enunciates, and then his tongue is back on you.

You’re pretty sure you see heaven. Your fingers knot tightly in his gorgeous dark hair, whimpering as he coaxes another orgasm out of you, then another, then another. Your legs are shaking, and you’re infinitely grateful that he carried you out here instead of trying to eat you on the edge of the sink, because you wouldn’t have been able to stay standing. You swallow, gasping harder and harder as his mouth pulls off your pussy and roves up your stomach, decorating your scar with the sweetest kisses, pawing gently at your tits before his mouth licks love bites into the underside, above your nipples, in the middle of your chest. You think that if he asked, you’d let Din plant hickeys literally anywhere he wanted, to put his claim on you, to prove that he’s yours. When his mouth meet yours again, it’s like you’ve died and come back to life.

You can taste yourself on Din’s lips, salty sweet. He licks into your mouth. “Taste so good,” he croons, mouth dropping to the pulse point behind your ear. You shudder as he teases you with his mouth, two fingers dipping in your slick and then pushing inside of you. You clench and moan around him, and faintly, you hear him moan about how tight you are before the rush of another orgasm rips into you and everything goes starry and skyward.

Finally, you come back to your sense, reeling. “Din,” you try again, but his name comes out in a breathless puff of air. You’re writhing under his touch, every inch of you alive and his. You feel electric.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he grunts out, and you don’t even have time to try to bargain for a taste of his cock, to touch him, to put your mouth in places that’ll make him feel as good as you do. For a second, he pulls you up so you can wrap your mouth around him, but the second he thrusts into your throat, he’s gone. “Not gonna last,” he murmurs, fingers tangling in your loose hair, “I have to fuck you now, cyar’ika.”

Your eyes roll back. “If—if you must,” you manage, but your voice is so thick and laden with lust that the joke doesn’t deliver. Din uses the head to rub against you a few times before he goes in, teasing your swollen clit before he pushes everything inside of you.

It’s everything. He’s not gentle, this time, which is exactly what you wanted. You don’t think you could see straight for days if he tried to pound you with ease. You want to be absolutely annihilated, to have the breath taken out of you. Wordlessly, Din does just that. He fucks into you hungrily, without remorse. You’re both moaning. His lips press up into your ear, but you can’t even recognize what he’s saying as he fucks everything out of you. Eventually, his words register-feel so good, my sweet thing, fuck, Nova—and you cry out as you clench down around him for what feels like the hundredth time. Din plants a singular kiss against your lips, moans, and whispers, “that’s it, sweet girl,” and then both of you are sent to the stars at the same time, gasping, moaning, screaming, like you’re colliding stars, like you belong to nothing but each other. It’s everything. It’s huge. It’s that something more you’ve always felt, that cosmic connection, that dual astral projection. For what feels like hours, you lay together, breathing in each other’s air, satisfied and happy.

Both of you end up in the shower, although you can’t remember either one of you asking to move towards the fresher. You let Din drag the soap over your sore shoulders, cleaning between your legs, frothing the suds in your hair. You don’t know when he had the time or the energy to do it, but he got that lavender soap you love, and the scent fills up the place with steam.

You do the same, wordlessly, dragging his soap over his broad shoulders, across his toned stomach, down both of his legs. You kiss Din as he presses his lips against yours, over and over again, and when you leave the shower, you’re both inches from sleep, happy, exhausted.

The bed is so much more comfortable than the one on Kicker. You sink into it, completely naked, shifting as close to Din as you possibly can. It’s dark in here, but you’re close to the window, and you see the foreign shapes of the buildings of Mandalore, and everything filters back in.

“Did you ever believe,” you whisper, not even sure if Din is still awake, “that when we met, we would end up both being Rebels and the leaders of a whole planet?”

“No,” he answers, immediately, his voice muffled against the back of your neck. “Not a chance in hell.”

You grin, into the darkness. “And now?”

“Now,” Din sighs, pulling you closer, “I truly can’t imagine our lives being any other way.”

You nod, in silent agreement. The night beckons you in closer and closer, and you let yourself fall onto the edge of sleep, heart full, eyes closed, exactly where you’re supposed to be. When you drift off to dreamland, you hear Din whisper he loves you, and you replay the words over and over in the back of your mind until they forge a promise stronger than the one living on your ring finger, content, together, on the precipice of something more.

Morning comes quickly, and it comes with Grogu jumping on the bed and waking both of you up with his abnormally loud cooing. You wake first, not even sure how the little guy found his way up on top of a bed that’s easily five times his height, but you pull him into the nest of sheets and blankets you and Din made in your sleep. When he wakes up, it’s slowly, and you touch your fingertips over to his face, tracing lines of love into his skin.

“Good morning, Mand’alor,” you say, and Din’s eyes open slowly.

“Not yet,” he answers, voice flat. You look over at where Bo-Katan must have left your outfits while you were gone on Hoth. His is typical—the Mandalorian beskar he’s been wearing for as long as you’ve known him, but with a neutral blue cloak to replace all that black. Your dress is gorgeous. You didn’t even know if you would have anything new for the ceremony, because all you’re doing is standing there, but you have to admit, Bo-Katan went above and beyond with this one. The color of the dress is shimmering, a dark navy blue that’s almost completely black. The fabric hugs the top half of your shoulders, and as the dress flows down the rest of your body, the blueness lightens into the same color Din’s cloak is made of. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, rivaled only with Yavin’s sunsets and Naator’s pink skies, and when you put it on, you feel like a princess. It’s not practical, but it’s also functional, and as you interrogate the chair full of things Bo-Katan brought you, you find a matching garter, shimmering in the same impossible way the dress does, embroidered with twin silver stars. When you slip it on, the lightsaber Luke’s letting you hang onto fits perfectly, flush against your legs. There’s a small slit trailing up the dress, so hidden by the starry, shimmering fabric that no one would catch it if they weren’t looking for it, and you grin as you put it on, thanking the Maker above for the Mandalorians being so effective in their aesthetic.

“Holy fuck,” you hear behind you, and you turn around. Din’s only in his underclothes, the tiniest bit of his belly peeking out from under his new tunic, and he’s staring at you.

“Bo-Katan,” you say, shyly, taking stock of his shocked face, “does not miss.”

Din walks toward you, taking in every inch of your shimmering dress, mouth slightly ajar. “No,” he murmurs, and then he’s striding towards you, holding your face in his hands, his lips feverish and frenzied against yours. “She certainly does not.”

“Neither do you,” you whisper, dazed, touching your lips, staring at him as he shoulders the cloak. “You look—”

“Strange,” he mutters, checking out his reflection critically.

“Amazing,” you correct, walking closer. The two of you look like royalty—outfitted in all the blue bells and whistles that Mandalore has to offer, standing tall in all that silver regalia—and when Grogu tugs at the bottom of your dress, you lift him into your arms, adjusting his own blue outfit. You don’t look like a rebel and a bounty hunter and their strange baby. You look like a family, a real one, and something else. You look like you belong here.

When Bo-Katan meets you at the door, she looks equally as regal. Her eyes roam over Din’s helmeted face with slight disdain, but she looks at you like she sees stars, and when her gaze flits over to Din again, her expression has molded into something that faintly rings out excitement.

“Are you ready?” she asks, leading the three of you down the staircase at the back of the quarters. You can tell by the shift in architecture that you’re heading straight for the throne room, and your heartbeat is knocking itself dizzy. Everything feels alive and electric, that buzzing of something more loud in your ears. You know this isn’t the ending. You know that by all accounts, that this is truly a beginning—you’re about to be married to the new leader of Mandalore, you have an entire shadowy fascist regime to beat, you know practically nothing about being a Jedi—but everything that started when you crash landed on Nevarro all those years before feels like it’s settling cosmically into place. Your breathing is quick and shallow as you hear your heels click against the empty hall, trying to take everything in, and before you know it, you’re at the door.

Bo-Katan looks at you and Din. “Everyone’s in there,” she says, and her voice is gentler than you’ve ever heard it. “They’re likely not going to be happy with this. But I’m going to go out first, and I’m going to introduce you and…” she looks over at you, and then back to Din, “and then you three will come in.”

Din nods.

“Are you ready?” Bo-Katan asks again, and there’s no greed in her voice. She’s not wanting for him to fail. You watch as she stands up straighter, and you notice the same color cloak flowing out from all of her beskar. You don’t know if you fully like her, yet, but you trust her, and you know that’s far more valuable in a situation like this. She offers you the tiniest of smiles. You return it, tenfold.

Din nods again, and then opens his mouth to speak. His voice is calm through the modulator, calmer than you would have expected. “Yes,” he says, finally, “yes, I’m ready.”

Bo-Katan nods at both of you, catches your eye one last time, and then shoulders herself through the double doors. The cheering and noise of the whole planet filters through the wide doorway, and then they click closed, leaving you and Din and Grogu together with nothing but each other.

“We can still run for it, you know,” you whisper, trying to shake the jitters out of your voice. “Think about it. We could disappear back on Yavin. Or Naator. That tiny little village. Pink skies, beautiful yellow trees.”

Din looks over at you, and you know you’re looking straight into his eyes under the visor. Your heart is beating so fast. “You made a promise to me, cyar’ika,” he says, “that you won’t run.”

You grin back at him. “True. I did say that. But I meant it in the context that I was never going to run from you. I never promised I wouldn’t run with you.”

“That’s quite the loophole.”

“I’m good,” you say, giggling, “and smart. I have like ten thousand contingency plans.”

“Well,” Din says, facing back to stare at the doors, reaching his gloved hand out to meet yours, “you don’t need them here.”

You look at him. “We’re gonna pull it off,” you repeat, trying to make your promise shine just as bright as all the ones he’s given you. “All of it. You are going to be the greatest leader that Mandalore has ever known. Grogu,” you continue, looking down at your adorable, green child nestled safely in your arms, “is going to become a Jedi.”

Din turns to you again. “And you?”

You smile. “Maybe both. I contain multitudes.”

Din laughs, and the noise is so light and so free that it makes every single inch of you melt. You beam up at him. “You certainly do,” he says, quietly, and then, after what seems like a moment of deliberation, he lifts his fingers and pulls his helmet off. He doesn’t look relaxed, but he doesn’t look particularly fearful, either.

“Are you sure?” you ask, breathless, as he brings his helmet all the way off, staring back at the double doors that Bo-Katan disappeared through a minute ago. You can only faintly hear what she’s saying, but you know it’s nearing the time when the three of you—your strange, wonderful little family—have to meet her in there.

He nods. “We’re both done running,” he sighs, his voice thick with resolve, “and I’m done with hiding.”

Your eyes fill with tears. “I love you. Ni kar’tayl su, darasuum.”

“Forever, Nova,” Din whispers back. He turns to face you one last time. You stare into his eyes, that warm, eternal state of brown, and as he moves closer to you, his hands around your waist, you don’t take your eyes off of him. Not even to blink. Not even for a second. You just stare, drinking in every single inch of his gorgeous face, knowing that you know him. It pulses and burns inside you like a shared, glorious star. “This is the beginning, you know.”

“I know,” you repeat, softly, feeling as his hand gently strokes over your perfect hair. There’s a headband as part of your outfit, made out of glittering spikes of beskar, and when Din touches his hand to it, it feels like a crown. “We’re going to change the world. Stop the order. Bring peace and good things, and then when we’re done, we can retire knowing we made all of this better for the rest of the galaxy. And then,” you inhale, staring into his eyes, “we’re going to have a real wedding. Flowers. Grogu presenting our rings. Boba Fett marrying us.”

“Absolutely not,” Din cuts you off, but you can hear the lilt in his voice. “Cara or nothing.”

You grin back. “Deal.”

“And where are we retiring?” There’s a tiny sparkle of humor hidden in his voice.

“We’ll have homes on all our favorite planets,” you decide, “but we can live on the ship for good, if you like.”

“No,” Din says, his voice faraway, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “When I make our next home with you, it’s going to be permanent.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Nova—”

“We’re ready,” you assure him, stepping closer, tipping your head back. “I’m ready. Are you?”

After a moment, Din nods. The way he’s holding you—protective, possessive, wholly yours—it makes everything fade out. For a moment, a dazzling, fleeting moment, everything else fades out. You see the two of you on Nevarro the first time, the way his hands felt when he was patching your wounds, all the promises you both made and broke back on Dantooine, the vows to each other on Naator, the proposal on Yavin, every single time you’ve saved each other, which is now an even tally, standing together at the Rebel base, standing together through the darkness, through the light, still standing together here. You love him. With all of your heart, you love him, and you know it’ll last even longer than forever. There’s war coming, but for now, you’re with your husband and your baby, about to step into the next phase of saving the world. And after everything, after all of that, you know the perfect thing to say before moving through those gilded double doors.

“I’m ready,” Din repeats, more fortified. You nod, and then beam at him and the baby, pushing your shoulders back. “This is a lot,” he says, his voice still tinged slightly with anxiety, “are you sure?”

You step as close as you can, reaching your hand up to bring his face down to yours, tipping your foreheads together. “Din Djarin,” you whisper, “I’m sure. We were always meant for something more. And,” you continue, smiling, mouth an inch away from his, “I don’t scare easy.”

And as Bo-Katan opens the double doors, you lean into your embrace, everything rushing back to the present, the entire galaxy evaporating and colliding at once. You hear the crowd in the throne room. You don’t know what’s coming next. But, you think, as you prepare to move forward, as long as you’re doing it with Din and Grogu, you’ll be okay.

So, regardless of the open door waiting for the rest of your lives in front of you, you slide your hand down Din’s face, lean into his kiss, and whisper that you forgive him.

*

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*

I HOPE YOU ALL LOVED IT!!!! writing this has been the adventure of a lifetime. it's given me peace, solace, happiness, giddiness, and, most importantly, all of you. thank you all endlessly for coming along on this journey with me. i love each and every one of you with all of my heart. thank you for supporting me and my story, for leaving incredible comments and analysis, for being my friends, and for jumping off this crazy cliff with me. SM turned into the story i was always meaning to write when introduced Nova as her whole character, and your love for her has filled my soul up with so much joy. thank you, endlessly, for coming along this ride with me. i know this isn't a "real" ending, and that not every single little plotline was tied up in a neat little bow, but i hope you'll forgive me because i have PLANS for the sequel. give me a month or so to get writing and planning, and the next installment in the SM series will be up as soon as possible!!!! as always, i'll give ya all the updates on tumblr (amiedala) and tiktok (padmeamydala) when writing starts!

you are all so important to me. thank you for reading, thank you for loving my words, and thank you for seeing this through with me.

onward and upward; the next adventure awaits!!!

all my love always,

amelie

[mendesbadrepuation]

Bachata // Sebastian Stan

Once again TikTok has inspired me and inspired this little one shot/imagine/pov. Whatever you prefer to call it. I decided to post this one because I simply knew it would sit around in my drafts collecting vast amounts of mold and dust. I had lots and lots of fun with writing this. I did a little research on this dance and even found a song. Hope everyone enjoys :)

Bachata is a form of dancing. Very sexy and very intimate at times. 

Background: Y/n is a famous actress learning a new dance for a scene in her movie. Her co-star Sebastian Stan is her partner learning just as much as she is. They might even learn something else along the way. Feelings perhaps?

tw- not any that I can think of. loads of fluff and vast amounts of fun!

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“Alright you two! Get warmed up and comfortable.” Our dance instructor informs us as the music begins blasting through the studio. I make sure my heels are strapped in and I look up at Sebastian. Today he had on black basketball shorts with a graphic white tee. There was this obvious scruff across his chin and jawline. It really brought out all his features.

He was walking towards me in a funny way. His arms and legs were throwing out into this strange dance move. When your characters are professional dancers and your person playing them are not. This is what happens. I start to lightly laugh and walk towards him to the beat of the music. Our instructor has us do this everyday before we rehearse our big dance scene. It helps us get comfortable with one another and shake whatever maybe in our minds from that day away. It was a good coaching technique if you ask me. 

We join our hands together at the drop of the beat. We don’t follow our steps and just dance how we like. It was fun and that’s what made this entire experience a little better. I focus on making light steps with my heels so it looks more elegant as the instructor would say. She’s also the entire choreographer for this movie so she knew a thing or two. Part of me was also focusing on not falling on my face every step I took. I was never use to wearing heels in general. Now I was being pushed to dance in them. This instructor has pushed me in ways I never knew before. 

“This a new top?” Sebastian asks as he pulls me into his chest. They press together and I sway my hips to the beat. One of his hands goes to my waist guiding them towards his thigh.

“Yeah. You like it?” I look up into his eyes as our faces were inches apart. He grins at me when our eyes lock. All I had on was a simple cropped spaghetti strap tank. It was this mint green kind of color. A new color for me.

“Cute.” He replies making my face red. Sebastian made it his goal to make me blush everyday. I don’t know how it became this game for him but it did. Sometimes he didn’t even have to try. He’d simply look at me a certain way and my face was red as a tomato. 

However, being in these close situations it helped for him to lighten the mood. He done that very often. Especially when I would get frustrated with a certain move I had trouble getting down. We really bonded through this film and all that has came with it. I was excited to learn this new dance and tell all my friends I can. Of course they would get to see it on screen when the film comes out. 

“Okay! Get into your first positions and let’s start at the beginning and work our way into where we left off yesterday.” The instructor commands us. We step away from each other and go to our designated positions. We stand on each side of the studio across from each other. I lean my back against the mirror in the way the instructor told me to. Sebastian had one leg propped against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

Our characters were designated to be in the beautiful city of Italy. Seb and I were excited to film there when the time came. Which was coming soon. Our special dance scene was coming together and before we knew it we’d be ready to fully put it together. We had two more parts to get down. The finale was suppose to make people cry apparently. That is if we do our jobs right. Which I had faith in Sebastian and I. We’ve worked so hard for this film. 

The song begins to play. *Promise Romeo Santos (ft. Usher)* 

I push off the wall and seductively walk towards Sebastian. Our eye contact was locked in with each other. I walk a circle around him as he stands in place. My finger drags across his back very slowly. His neck was turned toward his shoulder so he could try to catch a glimpse of me. When I reach around his front our eyes lock again. My body gets closer until he places his hands on my hips pulling me right into his body. I rest my hands on his shoulders for a moment letting him guide my hips to the music. 

Our faces were inches apart as we stared into each other’s souls. It felt as if our hearts were dancing together when we did dance. That’s how romantic and sexy this dance really was. I glide my hands up to his neck to cup it gently. It makes our connection stronger in the moment. He starts to take his steps backing me up. I flow backwards with him helping me guide the way. If we didn’t trust each other then this dance would not work. 

My right arm extends out as Sebastian used one arm to lift me up. My legs remained straight and I held my grip firmly on his shoulders to keep my form. His head was angled right into my lower chest. He keeps his focus on me as I turn my head to the side closing my eyes. I felt the breeze from him spinning me around. I tuck my knees in and bring my hand back down to his shoulders. He lifts me up and over his leg where I rest behind his thigh for a second. 

He pulls me back over and I place my feet back down to the ground. His hands let go of my waist as I step away from him. Sebastian does his individual steps as I walk around him making sure all the attention was towards him. When he bows I began my individual steps. My last step brought me back into his arms. His large hands made their way to my hips once more. He brings me towards him as I straddled his thigh. With the beat of the music I grind my hips into his thigh. We never lost eye contact in this moment. My heart was racing at the intimacy this part held. 

“One two three.” Sebastian whispers the count directly next to my ear giving me the cue to step back just enough for him to grab my hand as I extend myself out. He lets me spin out only to bring me back in. Once more I straddled his thigh and grind into his thigh. This time my hips come up a little higher and Sebastian meets me. Our bodies collide perfectly together. It was as if we were made for each other. 

Without any hesitation Sebastian spins me around by my hips so now my back is pressed against his chest. His right hand trails up my side towards my stomach and directly through the valley of breasts. My heart flutters when I felt his hand around my neck pushing me into him more. On beat we practically snap our necks to look each other in the eyes again. His hand around my neck now goes up to my face where he softly rubs his thumb across my cheek bone. My hips sway against him slowly as the music begins to fade from the instructor controlling it. 

“That was awesome you two! Absolutely beautiful! Let’s finish this last part and you guys will be ready to put it all together for the final scene.” She announces as she goes over in front of us. She explains the new steps thoroughly making sure we understood first. Then she takes each of us and guides us how to do what and where to look. 

The final part added a sexy flair with so much passionate romance. It felt like I was watching a movie myself when she used Sebastian to show me my steps. Sebastian listened as intently as he could. I catch him staring at me at one point and all I could do was smile at him. We were sweaty and tired from the hours of practice. I could see it on both of our faces. We never had the thought of giving up though. 

Once we learned the steps it was time for rehearsing it. The finale of this scene really tied the entire dance together. At the very end Sebastian and I were set to have our big kiss. The choreographer did not want us to kiss yet so the passion will let itself develop in the final dance. You could guess I was pretty excited about kissing my scene partner.

_______

The magic was in the air here in Italy. It was time for our big dance scene to come alive tonight. The directors and producers chose a nice little alley way between these bright pink buildings. Around us was all the Italy architecture you could imagine. This city truly was gorgeous in every aspect. 

“Are you ready?” My stylist asks me as she is finishing up the touches on my hair and makeup. The costume director chose for me to be in a silk black two piece dress. The top piece had an A-line design with spaghetti straps. The skirt part was completely silk with two slits on either side. That way it would show off my legs for the dance. Just to add a little spice he chose red satin heels with an ankle strap. The heels I had been practicing in to be exact. 

“Nervous. But ready.” I reply to her. I look at her  through the mirror and see a soft smile on both of our faces. 

“You’ve got this. No reason for you to be nervous.” She encourages. “Besides. This is your big moment to kiss Sebastian.” She smirks at me making my cheeks red. 

“Y/n It’s time!” The director calls from the other side of the tent. My stylist fluffs my hair one more time and sends me on my way. I walk outside of the changing tent and step into the bright sunny day of Italy. The crew all looked towards me which made me blush wildly. Big smiles land on their faces and it boosts my confidence. 

“Go ahead and get in your place Y/n. Sebastian is on his way!” The choreographer commands me and I nod my head making my way over to the marker. I lean against the wall and focus on my breathing. This is what we had been working for. 

To keep the suspense Sebastian and I were positioned to look in opposite directions. I had no idea what he was wearing and he had no idea what I would be wearing. The thought of how handsome he could look was circling in my brain. My stomach was beginning to be filled with nervousness as we wait for the action to be called. I focus on an object off in the distance. 

“Ready. ACTION!” The director calls. The music begins to play and I take in a deep breath. 

My head slowly turns towards Sebastian standing opposite of me. Our eyes meet at the same time and I watch him take in a breath. He was beyond the words of handsome. They chose to put him in a white linen button down with the buttons open midway to his chest. The shirt hugged his shoulders perfectly making him look so muscular. And he was. He had on these nice gray pants that were loose enough for dancing but looked as if they fit like dress pants. My God is hair was styled perfectly back. Just enough gel to give it a little raise and the rest was just this fluffy bounce. My heart rose to my throat and it took me a moment to snap back. 

Luckily I had practiced the routine so much that my feet took control at the start of the music. I elegantly walk to Sebastian as he walks to me. We didn’t remove our eyes from each other just like before. My heart was pounding when I was just close enough to see the shining blue in his eyes. The moment his hands come in contact with my hips a spark was sent through my body. His fingertips just barely graze my exposed skin on my waist. It makes my head spin from the minimal touch. 

We continue through the routine just like we practiced. The passion and romance was every bit there. I felt it in my chest the way he would guide me, touch me, and hold me. When he spins me around and pressed my back up against his chest I felt my knees becoming weak. Just the fragile way he pressed his fingertips into my skin to pull me closer to him was enough to make me fall apart. I was trying to remain professional but it was hard with those blue orbs seeping into me. 

Just as we approach the final part I felt butterflies erupting like a volcano in my stomach. Sebastian pulls me in as close as he can. One hand holds my waist while the other held my back. I felt him start to lean me down for the special dip. The music comes to a slow as he brings me back upright. My hand cups his cheek and our breathing was heavy. Our chests rise and fall hard against one another. 

Our faces inch closer and closer. Instinctively our eyes shut just as our lips collide for the first time. My heart pounds hard against my chest that I could hear it in my ears. Sebastian deepens the kiss making me so light headed. I felt as if I was floating. He grazes his tongue across my bottom lip allowing him further access. His tongue was gentle and not too forceful. I’ve had many stage kisses but never has one made me feel this way before. 

We pull back for air and stare into each other’s eyes. The director calls cut but Sebastian doesn’t loosen his grip or move an inch. I stay put still looking into his eyes. 

“That was awesome you two! I’m so proud!” The choreographer announces and I take a step back letting my grip fall. My hands rest at my sides as I couldn’t contain the blush from appearing on my face. 

Sebastian had this grin on his face as he continues to look at me. His eyes look from my head to my toe once more. “You are absolutely gorgeous.” He compliments. If it was possible my face got 10x more red. 

“Thank you Sebastian.” I barely muster up the words to reply. “You look very handsome.” This time he looks to his right and a subtle blush appears on his face. 

“Thank you.” He scratches the back of his head to ease his nerves. There was an obvious connection between the two of us. However, something was holding us back from just admitting it. We wanted each other but we wanted to remain professionals. 

After filming was over with for the movie I was sad to leave. Who wouldn’t be? I have grown such a connection with all of these people. Shortly after filming Sebastian reached out to me. It was just a simple text message. Should it have gave me the amount of butterflies it did? 

Would I ever be able to dance with you like that again? 

I couldn’t help but smile down at my phone. “What are you smiling at over there?” My best friend asks me. I shake my head trying to contain myself. 

“Nothing to worry about.” I reply shortly and think of a message back. 

If you’re lucky ;) 

I tried to be flirty but also not give away the fact that I was crushing hard on a fellow co-star. Somehow I just knew Sebastian was going to become a big part of my life. He reads the message and I see the bubble pop up. Just as fast as it pops up it disappears. I let a soft sigh out. 

“Hey look Y/n! Isn’t that Sebastian?” Another one of my friends ask. We were all having a nice time catching up at my place. I had been gone for months so they didn’t have to do much begging when it came to hanging out. 

The tv was playing the in background. I scramble around finding the remote turning the volume up. There he was on The Tonight Show with Jimmy Falon. My heart starts to rapidly beat in my chest at the looks of him. A black suit jacket with a floral button down underneath. His hair styled back with some gel. Once again he was just as handsome as the day I first met him. 

“So Sebastian! You’ve got a new movie coming out with none other Y/n y/l/n. You know she’s one of my favorites on this show. How was it working with her?” My breath caught in my throat as my friends slightly squeal with the mention of my name. 

“Oh wow. It was the best. She’s an absolute sweetheart! I can’t count the times she made my heart skip a beat.” He playfully clutches his chest. I thought I was going to faint. The crowd on the show erupts into cheers from the comment. 

“Woah woah woah! Seems to me like there is some chemistry behind the scenes.” Jimmy replies egging him on. He looks down into his lap with a soft smile. 

“There was definitely some moments throughout filming that had...” he pauses to think about his words. “Sparks flying I guess you could say.” Jimmy leans back in his chair in shock as the crowd gets louder. 

“The producer so graciously let me have this little clip of a special scene that you all shared. Let’s watch shall we?” He gestures to another screen and the clip begins rolling. It was a small trailer that I actually hadn’t seen yet. Flashes of my face throughout filming appear. Scenes that we developed. 

I see the clip of the beginning of the dance scene. The very moment we looked at each other it only showed Sebastian’s reaction. It zooms on his face and in his eyes I swear I saw a twinkle. Nice editing if you ask me. My heart jumps to my throat as the clip fades out. Sebastian is leaning back in his chair with an obvious blush on his cheeks. 

“Let’s talk about that look man.” Jimmy says. Sebastian starts shaking his head. He had a big smile on his face. It’s like he was lost in his thoughts. 

“That reaction was completely real. Our choreographer had us look away until the director called action. So for lack of better words. She took my breath away.” Jimmy covers his mouth in shock and the crowd was even more crazy. My jaw drops to the floor at his words. 

“Wow. Seems like you two are starting a new romance Sebastian!” Jimmy says and I’m about to pass out from this entire interview. 

“Yeah. If I’m lucky.” He smoothly winks at Jimmy. I knew what that meant. I just sent those words to him. My entire body was on an adrenaline rush. 

“What does that mean!?” My friend asks in a high pitch. She was trying to contain her excitement but it was no use. 

I look over at her with the biggest smirk on my face. My friends jump up from their seats circling around me in pure excitement. Thousands of questions were being shout out in my direction. 

“Guys!” I laugh trying to get them to calm down. “When I say I’ve never had a stage kiss like his before. I mean it.” They shout in even more excitement. 

“Well you’ve heard it hear live. Go check out this romantic new movie when it hits a theatre near you!” Jimmy closes the interview. Sebastian stands up waving to the crowd. The show goes to commercial and I’m still standing there speechless at his words. Was this really happening? 

I bring my phone up. Without any hesitation I click on his messages again. Out of nerves I bite the inside of my cheek contemplating my next move. 

“Whatever you’re about to say to him. Say it!” My friend encourages. I glance up at them and back to my phone. 

Will you take my breath away if we dance again? 

My cheesy reply still makes my heart pound in my chest. I wait a little over a minute and my phone buzzes against my hand. 

If you’ll give me the chance I will hopefully do more than that. 

I bite my lip to try and suppress the emotions circulating through my body. 

Time and place? 

My fingers come up to my lips as I nervously bite at one of my nails. 

7 tomorrow night at my place. I’ll pick you up. 

My eyes grow wide in surprise. This was really happening. I was planning a date with Sebastian Stan. 

I’ll bring an inhaler just in case :) 

I couldn’t ignore the wave of nausea building up in my stomach. 

Good idea. I’ll bring a crash cart. Just in case your gorgeous self sends me into cardiac arrest. 

My eyes roll at the flirtatious comeback. I leave the message open and explain to my friends we had to find an outfit quickly. 

I was going on a date with Sebastian Stan. 

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like, comment, or reblog for a part two? Thank you for reading guys!!!! :))

[oddshelbyout]

Dance With Me // John Shelby X Fem!Reader

Summary: Your childhood friend John promises you a dance at the pub you work at but he disappears. You spend the night worried about him until he shows up at your door, wounded.

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, Description of wound (slightly graphic), Blood

Word Count: 2304

Author’s Note:

I decided I wanna write for John more so here is another one. I liked the idea but I’m not sure how it turned out, some parts can be a little too vague and rushed. I still hope you’ll enjoy it!

English is not my first language and I’m not always confident about my work so please let me know if I make any mistakes or anything I can fix in my writing.

You can ask to be added to my taglist. You can be tagged to works on a specific character or just any of my works. Please dm me or send your wish to my ask box if you’d like to be added.

Requests are open. You can request any Peaky Blinders related imagines or prompts for me to write. I’m a minor so I don’t take NSFW requests, please keep that in mind.

———————

Friday nights were always the busiest at the pub you worked at. You were busy filling up pints. You were also bopping your head to the song the pretty lady on top of the chair was singing.

It was a joyful night, everyone was singing and you loved Friday nights for that. You left the bar and started wiping the tables. The tables were sticky from all the spilled drinks, as usual.

As you were minding your business, enjoying the next song that lady was singing, everyone just shut up. The pub went all quiet. You heard the door close and you looked up. There stood John Shelby.

“Go ahead people, continue.” he said and people started singing again. You left the cloth you wiped the tables with on a table and ran to John. You threw yourself in his arms.

“I haven’t seen you in weeks! Where have you been?” you asked. If anyone else asked him that, he would be furious but it was you. You grew up together, you were basically a Shelby and he thought you were the only one worth telling where he was.

“Had some business in London.” he said, he held your hand and dragged you to a table. He sat down and put his tab of cigarettes on the table.

“I’m working.” you smiled. He just turned to your boss and said “She’s taking a break.” you chuckled, sat down to the chair beside him.

“I’d rather you work in one of our pubs.” he told you, the only thing you did was roll your eyes. “I’m good here, thanks though.” you said a moment later, just to fill the uncomfortable silence between you.

“So you were in London for almost 3 weeks?” John nodded to your question, that was unusual. He usually never stayed in London for that long, “It should be serious then.” you said and he nodded again.

“Is something wrong? You’re a little too silent.” you asked. “Uh no, I actually wanted to ask you if you’d like to dance.” John smiled. You didn’t know if he genuinely wanted to dance or if he just didn’t want to talk about what he did in London.

“No, I’m at work!” you said, he smiled. He wasn’t going to let you go without a dance. “Come on Y/N!” he encouraged you. You would love to dance with him but not at work.

“My shift ends in half an hour, what if we dance then?” you ask, John looks happy to hear that. He looked at his watch, he got on his feet. “I’ll be back in half an hour.” he promised and left the pub.

You got back to wiping the tables. The time passed quickly and you didn’t realise how fast. The music coming out of the record player replaced the lady’s voice, who seemed to leave.

You dropped the dirty cloth into the bucket of water. You looked around the pub and then the clock on the wall. John hadn’t came, it’s been more than half an hour.

“Is it okay if I leave?” you asked your boss. The pub wasn’t as crowded as it was earlier and it was obvious he could manage on his own.

“See you tomorrow Y/N!” he shouted behind you, “Good night.” you shouted back before opening the door. You walked down the dark alleys of the city, your steps were slow. You weren’t afraid of the dark nights of Birmingham, you knew how to protect yourself well.

When you finally got to your home, all you wanted to do was go to sleep but your mind was busy with John. Not showing up was nothing like him. He had never stood you up. If he said he’d show up and dance with you, he was going to. You could feel something was wrong.

You just changed into your night dress and went to bed immediately. You lied in your bed, closed your eyes but you couldn’t sleep. Normally you wouldn’t be worried but this time was different.

You also really wanted to dance with him. You danced together a lot when you were younger, then both of you started seeing it as something more romantic. You were best friends, you didn’t want to seem romantic.

You couldn’t sleep. You wondered where John was but also you wondered the reason behind him offering that dance. That occupied your mind so much that sleep seemed impossible.

Was it because he didn’t want to talk about London like you assumed or was it because he wanted to dance with you like you hoped? You didn’t know how long you have been trying to go to sleep either.

Your tired body started giving up and your loud thoughts faded. You were finally falling to sleep and you would if someone didn’t knock on your door.

Your eyes opened wide, you jumped out of your bed. John didn’t show up like he promised you and spent 3 weeks in London for ‘business’ so you just assumed you were in trouble.

It wouldn’t be the first time you were on a kill list because you were so close to the Shelbys. You took your paper knife from the desk in your room, it was your best choice as a weapon at that moment.

You held the knife tight and stood behind the door. “Who is it?” you said, ready to stab whoever was behind your door. “Y/N just open up!” you heard John say, he sounded like he was trying to speak with his teeth clenched.

“Thank God!” you dropped the knife on the floor and opened the door. What you saw behind the door made you take the thanks back. John stood still, blood dripping behind his white shirt. His jacket was missing and he had no gun on him.

“What the fuck happened?” you asked, you pulled him in. You shut the door and made him sit on the floor, he was losing so much blood that he was dizzy and couldn’t stand up properly.

“You fucker!” you shouted at him, John looked at you not getting why you were angry at him. He was shot on his left arm, the bullet missed his heart with only a few centimeters.

“Just take this bullet out now!” John shouted, “Don’t you have a whole family who can do that better than me?” you asked in horror. “Just do it!” he shouted back.

You ran to the living room, grabbed the single bottle of vodka you had. You handed the bottle to John but he drank it instead of showering his wound with it.

“That’s not why I gave it to you!” you shouted at him. You were sure the neighbours were going to complain a lot. You took the bottle back as soon as he finished his sip.

You sat down on your knees. You took the paper knife again, first cut the sleeves of his shirt and then poured the vodka on. “Don’t waste it, I need it!” John told you. You just chuckled and carefully put the knife on his skin.

“Yeah, drinking is more important.” you complained while you tried to dig the knife under the bullet. John screamed in pain, “I thought you were tougher than that.” you laughed.

“Shut up!” he shouted back, scrunching his face from the pain. You finally pushed the bullet out, piled the cut sleeve into a ball and started pushing it on the open wound.

You took a sip from the vodka, “I thought it wasn’t to drink.” John mumbled while still being obviously in pain. “I need it because you showed up wounded in the middle of the night and stood me up earlier.” you said and John’s face just relaxed.

“You waited for me?” he asked simply, you hated that he had the balls to ask that. You ignored the question, “You should’ve gone to Polly, I’m sure she would be better at taking it out.” John squinted his eyes.

“No I couldn’t, nobody can know I fucked up.” he said, you knew what he was talking about. He fucked the ‘business’ up with whatever he did in London. “And couldn’t let the kids see me like this.” how could you forget about John’s kids, apparently they were with Polly when he was in London.

John took the ball of shirt from you and started pushing it himself. “If you did something wrong, they’ll know sooner or later.” you said, almost pitying him. You knew very well how an angry Tommy Shelby behaved.

“I’ll tell them, just not like this.” he said but that made you a little uneasy. “So why did you come here? To put me in danger too?” you asked, still bitter about the dance.

“No because I wanted to apologise.” you took your gaze away from him. “For what?” you asked like you didn’t know. “For not being there to dance.” he said, you looked back at him.

“I thought we didn’t dance, friends don’t dance like that, remember?” you asked, trying him and searching for the answer you hoped for.

“You were willing to dance when I asked you at the pub.” you nodded, had nothing to say. “And also for not keeping my promise, you were probably worried.” he confessed, you once again nodded. “Obviously I was right to be worried.” you pointed at his left arm.

He laughed, you assumed the pain had faded. “I’m sorry Y/N.” he apologised sincerely, his impression said it all. “It’s okay, you never stood me up.” you sounded sad.

John took a deep breath, “Dance with me.” he said. You were surprised to get that offer at that exact moment. “What?” you asked, he tried to stand up but he felt too weak to do so.

“Dance with me like you promised me, I came all the way here.” he said smiling softly. “You came here because you were shot.” you answered, “So you’re not gonna dance with me?” you copied his smile and helped you get up.

“My record player is broken though.” you said while walking him to the living room in your arm. You looked down to the floor worrying about the carpets. All of your carpets now had blood stains on but it didn’t matter. One of the things Shelbys thought you was how to take blood stains off, you were in luck.

“We’ll dance without music then.” he said, he stopped pushing on his arm even though it was still bleeding. He wrapped his arms around you even though it caused him pain.

You started looking deep into his green eyes, they hadn’t changed a bit since the day you first met him. Neither of you were over the age of 10, kids playing together, sharing anything. Your parents passed away and your aunt who was your guardian was absent. You grew inside the Shelbys and that was the best thing that happened to you.

Looking deep into his eyes made you remember the day he married Martha and how happy he was. You saw the same happiness in his eyes that day. “Are you happy?” you asked him, totally unintentionally.

“I am when I’m with you.” he said and started whistling a tune. He kept whistling and you moved your body in sync with his.

“John Shelby, do you love me?” you asked and he stopped whistling. He didn’t stop dancing though. “Is that even a question?” he asked and you thought he didn’t get the exact question.

“But do you love me?” you let your arms go, you stopped dancing and stood before him like a statue. “I do.” he said, you weren’t convinced. Your brain just couldn’t accept that your love wasn’t unrequited.

“Do you love me like you loved Martha?” you asked, he licked his lips and blinked. “Maybe even more.” he confessed, your knees got weak.

You looked on your right arm, it had stains of blood from John’s wound. You still weren’t convinced that he loved you back. You thought best friends could be the only thing you’ll ever be.

“What took you so long.” you swallowed, you should’ve been happy but you weren’t. You’d rather not learn about his feelings this way. You would rather learn it at a time when he wasn’t wounded and came to you for it.

“Denial.” he said, “I didn’t believe we could be anything other than friends.” he confessed. Hearing that made you smile, you didn’t even realise you were smiling until he copied yours.

“So what now?” Do I let you kiss me?” you raised your eyebrows and asked. “Yes and maybe more?” he divided his lips like he was asking for the kiss.

“I just took a bullet out of you!” you exclaimed, “That never stopped me!” he replied back. You laughed, “Fucking hell!” you gave up and pushed your lips on his.

This was surprisingly your first kiss with him. As teenagers you two had debated if you should try kissing but that seemed too dangerous for both of you. Neither of you wanted to risk your friendship.

What made you risk your friendship at that moment was a mystery. You didn’t think a moment about that because after that one moment of shock, you were finally happy to get that confession.

His lips were better than what you imagined. They were soft even though they looked rough and chapped. His lips were cold most likely because of all the blood he lost.

You parted from him to take a breath and slipped an “I love you.” before you kissed him again. Knowing he wanted more, you didn’t care about his wound and pushed him on the couch. You knew exactly what he wanted and you would give it to him.

[127-mile]

Lonely hearts club.

Pairing: Sicheng x gender neutral reader.

Genre: College!au, strangers to lovers | Fluff, humor.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption.

Plot: Johnny decided to throw a Valentine's day party for him and his single friends. Guests must draw a name from a bowl to be paired with for the duration of the party. Sicheng picked your name.

Prompt: “We should do this again.”

Word count: +2.3k.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s day, guys. This is part of the “Candy hearts collab”. The collab’s masterlist is in my main masterlist, go read the other writers’ works.

"Welcome to the Lonely hearts club," Johnny begins to say, hands on his hips. "if we are here today, it is because we all are single on this special day. So instead of getting drunk on our own, I decided to make a little game out of this party." from the makeshift bar, he takes a bowl filled with little pieces of paper. "You will all draw a name from this bowl, and will be paired with this person for the duration of the party."

"Is that why you asked me to write everyone's names instead of studying earlier?" you ask, and Johnny nods, lips curling into a smile. You watch as a few guests get up to leave, but Johnny shakes something in front of them. The key of the house. "I am not giving you a choice. The only way for you to leave is through the windows, but it will probably startle the alarms, so except if you want to spend the night in jail, you should come and pick a name."

Johnny thought of everything, and you are not surprised.

"Are you going to draw a name, or are you going to watch and laugh at us?" you ask the host of the party, and he nibbles on his lower lip. "I'm not watching you all fall in love while crying over my sad and pathetic romantic life." he is always so dramatic.

You take a step back when the guests come to pick up a piece of paper, and you grab a cup to fill it with vodka. Maybe if you are drunk enough, the person with whom you'll have to be paired will leave and let you enjoy the rest of the night.

"Are you here to force me into the living room, or to hide from Johnny and his crazy idea?" you hear when you head to the kitchen where you know you will be safe, but you are not alone. Your eyes meet the ones of a young man, blond hair, and soft brown eyes. "I am hiding, do not worry."

"Then you are allowed to stay."

You roll your eyes, and you sit on the kitchen counter. You listen to the names being called, the laughs that follow, and even the sound of the bowl falling and breaking when Johnny's name is being shouted by someone. "We are going to be here for awhile, so might as well make the most of it. I'm Sicheng."

You were not expecting the stranger to talk, but you are not mad about it. He has a nice voice, even muffled by the hubbub coming from the living room. "I'm Y/n, nice to meet you Sicheng. Are you friends with Johnny, or Jaehyun?" you ask, and he takes a sip from his bottle of beer.

"I am unfortunately friends with both of them." oh, that must hurts, you think. "I'm truly sorry that you have to put up with both of them." you say in a comforting voice, and it makes Sicheng laugh. Oh, this is a really pretty sound. "I hope you'll find better friends after this party. I'm not offering my help, as I am friends with Johnny."

"Y/n! It's your turn!" oh fuck.

You get down from the counter, and you crouch behind the kitchen island which was a great idea, because Johnny enters the room immediately. "Win, have you seen Y/n?" you turn your head towards the young man, and you put you index finger against your lips, and he just shrugs. "I have no idea who Y/n even is."

Johnny heaves a sigh, but he does not leave the room. "Alright, then it's your turn Sicheng." Sicheng's eyes widen, he really thought he would be safe in this room, but turns out, nowhere is safe when Johnny has an idea. "Do I have to?" Johnny scoffs. "Yes. Don't make me pick a name for you."

Sicheng glares at you, and he leaves the kitchen. The guests are scattered around the living room and the garden, so Johnny and Jaehyun's eyes are the only one he feels on his back as he picks a piece of paper from the floor. The bowl is effectively broken, and no one bothered to clean.

He laughs when he reads the name on the paper, and he turns it towards the two boys. "Y/n! Come out, your party buddy is waiting for you."

A party buddy? What the fuck is a party buddy? You stay hidden, but then another voice is heard, and you have no choice but to straighten up. "Y/n, we can hide in the kitchen some more if you want."

You rest your shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed against your chest. "Did you cheat?" you ask when you see your name written on the piece of paper in between his fingers, and he shakes his head. "I would never! Fate is just funny like that."

"You two already know each other? That's cool! Go now, have fun, get drunk, don't throw up on the couch, and don't fuck in my parents' bed." Johnny says before disappearing in the garden with Jaehyun by his side. "We needs new friends." you mutter, and Sicheng agrees.

Without a word, you go back to the kitchen and you sit back down on the counter. "Do you think we did something terrible in our past lives to have them as friends?" you wonder out loud, and Sicheng just sighs. "Or we did something so great that they decided to slap us with some humility by giving us these friends."

He sure is right.

The first hour goes by quickly, and smoothly.

Sicheng talks about his studies, and his dream of opening a dance studio in town, and you talk about your own projects. The advantage of being in the kitchen is that no one is bothering you. Sometimes Johnny comes in to grab beers from the fridge, but he leaves right away.

"Should we go and visit Johnny's room?" Sicheng suddenly asks, and you smile. "I thought you would never ask."

You were not planning on spending an entire night with the same person, so you take what you can get to be a little bit more entertain. Not that Sicheng is boring, far from that, but the atmosphere is not the one of a Valentine's Day party. It is quite the opposite. The guests are awkward with each other, so they drink cup after cup of alcohol, and even inhebriated, it does not help them get the stick out of their asses.

Tomorrow morning is going to be a mess, you know it. You also know that Johnny is going to regret his decision of having this kind of party.

"Do you know which bedroom it is?" Sicheng asks as you walk through the corridor of the first floor. "I'm pretty sure this is this one." you say, poiting at a door with Johnny's name painted on it. "Oh, he is that kind of loser then."

"It's his childhood's bedroom, don't be so mean." you whisper, but in a way, he is right. Johnny is kind of a loser.

Unlike the other doors, this one is not unlocked. "He is making it too easy." you step inside the bedroom, and as expected, it looks really childish. The wallpaper is blue with cars on it, the bed is way too small for Johnny's long legs and plushies are all around the room, which is not too different from his actual bedroom.

"Look!" you join Sicheng in front of a whill covered with photos of Johnny's growth into adulthood. You take your phone out, and you snap a few pictures of the photos, and when Sicheng looks at you, you just shrug. "I need blackmail material for the next time he tries to pull a stunt like this."

You sit on the edge of the bed, and you look up. "Oh no, that's disgusting." you mutter as you see yourself on the mirror glue to the ceiling. "Does a kid really need a mirror on the ceiling? Ew!"

"I'm pretty sure he got it installed when his parents started traveling. For his conquests, I guess." Sicheng explains, and that makes sense, but that's still disgusting. Fucking someone in his childhood's bedroom, in a child's bed. The thing is, you are not even surprised.

"Do you think Johnny was serious when he talked about the alarms going off if we try to open a window?" you shrug, and you watch as Sicheng gets up to walk to the window. "We should try."

You open your eyes wide. "Do you really want to finish the night in jail? Johnny is stupid enough to tell the cops that we actually tried to break in the house while he was having a party." especially if he is drunk.

"We won't if we run fast enough."

Sicheng has something in his voice, something that prompts you on your feet and behind him. "Except if we die from the gall." you say in a low voice close to his ear and you see the skin of his arm break into goosebumps. "You are right. We should try from downstairs' bathroom."

"I have to get my things back anyway." together, you leave Johnny's bedroom and when you both have your jackets and bags, Sicheng locks the door behind you. "Isn't it a bit too mean to lock the door?" Sicheng looks back and he decides to unlock the door. He wants to piss off Johnny, but he does not want the guests to trash his house with vomit.

"Are you ready?" he asks, and you nod.

When he opens the window, nothing happens at first. And after a couple of seconds, an alarm echoes in the house. "Why can't they just have those silent alarm with a notification on their phone, it'd be way more discreet."

"Sicheng, get out of the bathroom, we don't have time!" he shakes his head with vigor and he slings a leg on the other side of the window and he gets out of the bathroom, face immediately whipped by the cold wind. You do the same, and he helps you to avoid you from tripping.

You hear screams inside the house, and you try not to imagine Johnny's face when he understands that someone actually opened a window to leave. "We are so dead." you say before running.

Sicheng runs and laughs at the same time, and hearing him laugh is enough to make you laugh too. His laugh is addicting, just like his presence, and you are glad Johnny did this. If you had not had to hide in the kitchen, you would not have met Sicheng, and that would have been a shame.

After a few minutes of intense run, Sicheng grabds your wrist and pushes you into a dark alley. "I think we're far enough." he says in a sigh, and you nod. You are breathless, hands on your knees, you break into a fit of giggles despite the burn in your lungs. "We are the worst friends ever." you breath out.

"They are the worst, we did what we had to do." he answers, and he is right. You freeze when you hear your phone rings in the pocket of your jacket. You take it out, and you bite the inside of your cheek when you see Johnny's picture on the screen.

"Johnny, why are you calling me, we are in the same house!" you exclaim in faux surprise, and Sicheng puts a hand on his mouth to muffle a laugh. "My hearing is pretty good, so yes, I definitely heard the alarm. But that does not answer my question, why are you calling me?" you nod, even though Johnny can't see it.

"Sicheng and I are in the house, we are watching you right now, you can't see us?" he is going to hate you both, and you are ready, really. "How many drinks did you have tonight? Because we are waving at you right now! Just turn around!" Johnny starts to mumble about the alcohol he has in his cup, so you take the opportunity to hang up.

"Did he believe you?" Sicheng asks, and you shrug. "I don't know, but what I know is that he thinks he is more drunk than he actually is, which is a good thing." Sicheng threads his fingers through his hair, and he inhales deeply.

"I'm starving, do you want to go eat something?"

And that's how you find yourself sitting in the booth of a fast food, in the middle of the night. "I thought this place would be empty tonight." you say, looking around.

A few couples are here, sharing fries and sodas, some people are alone, either enjoying a night light every other nights, a boy is even crying in the corner. "Poor boy probably got dumped."

"I would dump him with this haircut too." Sicheng grumbles, mouth full of fries, and you roll your eyes. Johnny has been texting you for the past twenty minutes, wondering why he can't find you, and every time the screen lights up, you chuckle. Poor boy.

"Well, all in all, that was a pretty nice party." you state, and the young man nods. "I think so too."

"We should do this again." he adds right away, and you tilt your head to the side. "Bothering Johnny?" Sicheng laughs softly, but he shakes his head. "No. This. Together. You know, like a date?" his cheeks take on a soft pink hue, and you can't help but smile. "I'd love that."

Tonight was your last night as part of the Lonely Hearts Club, and that's thanks to Johnny and his crazy ideas.

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Paul Sheldon

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You and Paul met through his agent. You worked as a freelance illustrator so when Marcia contacted you with the offer of a lifetime; illustrating the front cover of one of the bestselling novel series in the country, you were obviously more than happy to accept.

- So, the two of you have some meetings about what he wants for the cover, he immediately finds himself attracted to you and you to him, and the two of you dance around your feelings at every little book party that you’re both invited to.

- He spends quite a bit of time trying to flatter you, complimenting your work, telling you that you look lovely, etc. He brushes off all of your compliments but boy does he love them.

- He asks you out after the next book in the Misery series gets published. You’d received a call in the afternoon, inviting you out to dinner with him; to “celebrate”, and telling you that he couldn’t have done it without you. Considering the fact that you’d been in love with the man for a good few months, you happily agreed.

- For your first date, the two of you have dinner at an upscale restaurant. You talk and get to know each other better, both of you realizing that you’re even more compatible than you initially thought. You’re eager to agree to see him again as you’re saying goodbye, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek before getting into your taxi.

- A few more dates and the two of you are official, sharing your first kiss on your third date. You’d invited him in for some coffee after the two of you went out to eat and as you were sitting together, you’d both slowly leaned in and shared a long kiss; and possibly more.

- And so, the author finds his perfect partner in crime.

- Paul is a bit of a public figure; and a supposedly sophisticated one at that, so he tries his best to look classy and proper in public. This means that he’s reserved in his Pda, usually trying to show that you’re together while staying “proper.”

- His arm around your waist or his hand on the smll of your back. He likes keeping you close to his side; especially if you’re at an even together.

- His hand resting on top of yours or innocently on your thigh/knee; usually innocently at least.

- Temple kisses.

- Wrist and hand kisses.

- Long, slow kisses. He’s a romantic at heart so they’re right up his alley.

- Soft, gentle kisses.

- Sitting on his lap.

- Cuddling in the crook of his arm. He likes feeling your arms wrapped around his middle and the weight of you head on his shoulder/chest; it keeps him grounded.

- He’s sort of old fashioned so he usually calls you things like darling and dear.

- Getting an insider look at his life. He’s got quite a few interesting stories to tell.

- He’s used to the finer things in life; and he’s sort of old fashioned, so that means that he’s grown to behave like a gentleman when it comes to his women. He’ll help you put on your coat, open doors, pull out chairs, etc. It’s really quite sweet.

- He insists that he’s fine whenever he’s sick but he still acts like he’s dying pretty much every time he gets a cold.

- He knows all your quirky little interests and likes to humor you with them, getting you gifts or taking you places that revolve around them. He likes the way your face lights up whenever he does.

- Going out to buy him paper. You’re always given a kiss and called something along the line of “an Angel”.

- Bringing him food while he’s writing and making sure he gets some sleep; rather than constantly staying up until the early hours of the morning.

- Happily greeting him back when he comes home from his trips.

- Getting to read the early stages of his books. He likes knowing your opinion, it’s one of the few that he legitimately takes seriously regardless of how literarily gifted you are.

- Celebrating with champagne after he finishes a story.

- Every time he gets a story published, he’ll get you a little something and say that he couldn’t have done it without you, whether it be a bracelet, ring, necklace or something entirely different.

- Going to all his book events with him. You’re sort of like a trophy wife for him, even if you don’t think you’re good enough to be one, he sure thinks you are.

- Helping him deal with the trauma he undoubtedly develops after his time with Annie. There’s going to be quite a few nightmares and thinly veiled panic attacks.

- Something tells me that Paul was never an incredibly outgoing person but after the whole Wilkes ordeal, he especially prefers to stay inside with you rather than go out.

- Trips to cabins and other places; he probably prefers somewhere sunny after he returns home from his latest trip.

- Lazy morning spent inside.

- Window shopping together. Occasionally, the two of you will go get coffees and just walk around town, seeing what’s new and enjoying each other’s company.

- Singing along to the radio with him. Speaking of: he’ll probably want you to drive after he gets into his ...accident.

- Visiting the city. The two of you go sightseeing, visit zoos, go to baseball games, etc. It’s a nice break from your usual atmosphere.

- Going out to dinner with him.

- Nights spent by the fire.

- Snowball fights.

- Sarcasm. It helps if you can dish it right back so go on ahead if you can.

- Having his daughter over for the holidays.

- Your mother is probably quite the fan of him considering she’s probably the target audience of his whole Misery series.

- Flattery. He’s very skilled in the art of ass kissing.

- Your praise fuels him. He’ll always try to squeeze more out of you yet act all humble at the same time.

- He’s sentimental so he has a bunch of photos and keepsakes from different points in your relationship.

- He can usually notice when somethings off and is fairly good at consoling you. It always seems like he knows exactly what to say to make you feel better.

- Paul’s not a jealous person. He’s on the older side of the age spectrum by now; he’s more mature, and he’s secure enough in himself and your relationship to know you’d never do anything to hurt him. He might; occasionally, not like someone because he thinks they have a bit of a thing for you, but he lets you handle it and trusts your judgment.

- He’s not incredibly protective but he’ll defend you and your honor if it really comes down to it. Plus, depending on your age, his fatherly instincts may occasionally take over and he’ll find himself scolding you.

- He’s pretty good at keeping himself under control so the two of you don’t fight very often. If anything, you bicker every now and again before you settle things or just forget about it.

- He doesn’t mind apologizing when he’s in the wrong, if it’s his fault then it’s his fault, right? If you’re in the wrong than he’d expect you to apologize as well.

- Paul’s somewhat reserved when it comes to telling you that he loves you. He likes for the words to mean something; and he’s just not the type of person to say those three little words in general. That being said: he’s sort of a hypocrite because he loves hearing you say you love him.

- Well, there’s certainly a few bumps coming up in the road, but overall, you’re going to have a nice life with him.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Déjà Vu (Or are we losing our minds?) XIV -Modern!Shirbert

A/N: I haven’t written the epilogue yet, so it might not come out next week, I do hope I get the time to do it though, hang in there! -Danny

Words: 1,178

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Epilogue

'I hope that if alternate universes exist, it will still be you and me in the end. I hope that there will always be an us. 

In every world,  in every story' — Tina Tran

New Year's passed without any strange occurrences as well, Anne had made up her mind and decided that those dreams had been the result of a very shitty week in which she'd had to deal with her ex's engagement, but now she was fine!

If fine meant being unable to not daydream about the handsome stranger with the pretty eyes.

Either way, her trip back to Toronto had gone well, next day they would attend the Orchard's party (Diana had told her she'd contacted Gilbert and he'd reserved a whole table for them) and she couldn't wait to get rid of this false illusion, she decided that the only way she'd be able to get over this man would be by meeting him. Usually, that's all it takes to stop liking a man.

"Anne?" Diana peered through the door. "It's almost three in the morning, you should go to bed..."

"I'm sorry Di, did I wake you?"

"Yeah, what are you doing anyway? School hasn't started, you can't be doing homework?"

"Oh, no," Anne smiled. "I started a new project. It's... It's a romance."

"Oh?" Diana's brow raised. "Are we back to being hopeless romantics, then?"

"I don't know," She looked back at her laptop. "I haven't decided yet. Which is perfect for the book, you know? I think I can give an interesting perspective, don't you think? More objective?"

"What's the main plot?"

"I don't know yet," Anne laughed. "It's about this boy, he's met a girl once in his life and only talked to her for like, five seconds, but it's enough for him to fall in love completely. After that, he starts to compare every woman to the stranger even though all is mere speculation— I haven't decided whether if it should have a happy ending or a realistic one."

"Happy endings can be realistic too, you know?"

"Well, you know what I mean," She shrugged. "It's just a concept, and it could suck— I could end up abandoning the story if it doesn't feel right, but it's the first time I feel inspired enough to do something longer than three pages and I thought I should try it."

"I think you should," Diana walked up to her and kissed the top of her head. "I know it's hard to go to bed when you're inspired and all, but do try to sleep? I don't want you leaving the party early..."

Anne's stomach twisted in anticipation, she doesn't know if she'll want to stay after meeting Gilbert, but she can't say that to her friend.

"Of course," She smiles. "Don't worry."

———————————————

It wasn't a fact, but the possibility of Anne coming to the party caused Gilbert to pour all his energy into making sure everything was perfect.

Gilbert had always been a bit of a control freak, but this was the last opportunity to actually meet the real Anne, and he didn't want to waste it.

He looked at the decorations around him feeling satisfied, Gilbert checked the time and realized it was almost 3 am, he swore under his breath and quickly made his way out, making sure everything was in place and safely secured.

He didn't know why, but something about the next day felt final, it was a now or never kind of situation.

***

The train's incessant rumbling woke him up. He realized he'd fallen asleep while reading the newspaper, Gilbert carefully folded it and fixed his posture as well as his clothes. He realized he was wearing some kind of old-fashioned suit, which he didn't consider strange at all, it felt right, actually, he felt more at home than ever.

Someone sat down in front of him, a dark-haired girl with intense brown eyes and flushed cheeks, he knew who it was immediately.

"Diana," He smiled. "To what do I owe the ple—"

"What is wrong with you?" She interrupted. "First you make us all believe you're marrying an older lady, then you show up at the last minute and announce to my father that you're no longer marrying and you're moving to Toronto instead?"

"I— What?" Gilbert blinked. "Marrying?"

"Yes!" Diana leaned forward. "You told my father you were planning to propose to Winnifred Rose and that you were moving out to Paris, then you change your plans completely! You have no idea how's Anne suffered because of you!"

The name immediately stirred something in him, Gilbert smiled.

"This is a dream, isn't it?" He asked. "She's here—"

"So you simply never bothered to speak to Anne about any of this?" She demanded, clearly not listening to him.

Gilbert's mind came up with a reply on its own, much like any regular dream, it was as if he knew there was a script he had to follow for the story to continue its course.

"Had I had the opportunity to I would have, in fact, I went over—"

"You had every opportunity, for years! Admit it— You've been smitten with Anne ever since she first came to Avonlea and smashed that slate over your head!"

The sentence brought back clear memories: Anne looking extremely pissed, holding a small slate and then hitting him with it. Him being so drunk he'd insulted her without really meaning to.

'Oh... crap', He thought.

"I need to talk to her," Gilbert stood up abruptly.

Part of him knew this wasn't real and talking to Anne here would do nothing to fix the reality that he'd screwed up the first impression already. But his dream-self had no sense of logic, so he ran to the nearest exit just when the train was reaching the station.

He rushed past the crowd and quickly found himself in the middle of a town with no idea of where he was going. The streets looked familiar, but where was Anne?

He ran across alleys, wide streets and unknown houses until he saw a big, greenish building ahead, and his heart jolted in excitement, he knew this was it, he sped forward, he was reaching the entrance—

***

The loud beeping of his alarm woke him up abruptly. Gilbert's eyes opened at once and he looked for the device frantically.

"No no no," He said anxiously. "I was so close!"

But it was all a dream, even if he'd found Anne, it wouldn't change the fact that he'd already ruined his chances with her since the start, and maybe his dreams were all a constant reminder of how it didn't matter how many times he could rewrite the story in his dreams, what's done it's done.

Gilbert fell back on the mattress with a groan. He'd been planning this party for weeks and now it all felt useless, now all he could do was wait for the party and hope Anne didn't remember him.

———————————————

Anne stood gracefully in the corner of the room, looking around at the attendants of that evening's ball without much interest, she was looking for those familiar dark-brown curls, but there was no sign of them yet.

"Oh, Anne!" Phil approached her. "Isn't this dance beautiful? Although it saddens me that the only reason why we get to enjoy it it's because we've finished our studies for good! I shall miss the classroom very much, won't you miss me?"

"Yes, I believe my heart will feel like a part of it has been stolen as soon as you part from my side," Anne replied, only the tiniest hint of teasing in her voice.

"Oh, you're lying!" Phil sniffed dramatically. "I know I won't be you most missed old chum, that's a place Gilbert Blythe has occupied ever since you rejected his proposal."

"Phil!" Anne exclaimed. "Don't speak like that! It wouldn't be proper of me to miss a man while courting another and you know it!"

"Oh, but the heart is such a funny thing," Phil sighed. "And I know you love him, therefore I should deliver the news before it's too late. Gilbert is expected to be engaged very soon."

Anne felt like her heart was getting squeezed and shattered, but she managed to control her voice.

"Oh?"

"Yes," Phil continued calmly. "I thought you ought to know, even if you insist you don't love him. I tell you so you don't do anything foolish... you should tell him the truth."

"What truth?"

"That you and Roy won't get married, of course!"

"Dear me, Phil, where did you get that from?" Anne gasped. "He hasn't even proposed!"

"It doesn't matter, I know you regret deeply the way you treated Gilbert that dreadful day, I know you would answer differently now, wouldn't you?"

What dreadful day?

Rejected his proposal? What proposal?

A muffled voice echoed in her mind, one she knew too well already.

'You would have sex with me?'

Anne shook her head in incredulity. Well, of course she was going to reject him! That offer had been positively scandalous!

And what had she done? She had... she had...

The memory came to her fresh in a flash. She had seized the slate and slapped him with it.

"Oh my..." Anne's hand covered her lips in horror. "Well, I did what I had to, Phil, he was incredibly rude!"

"Rude? He was just asking a question!" Phil blinked in confusion. "How's that rude?"

"Because he... he..." Anne blinked several times, then her gaze gained a bit of clarity. "He called me carrots! Yes, he did!"

"Oh, Anne, that was so long ago!" Phil laughed. "Haven't you gone through enough together to know he didn't mean to offend you?"

Anne was growing anxious. She fixed her skirt even though it didn't need any fixing, and stood up.

"It's getting late, I think I'll go now."

Without waiting for a reply she left, in the blink of an eye, she found herself inside the Green Gables' kitchen, Marilla was seated in front of her, and she had a very pitiful expression.

"I understand if you don't want to visit him, Anne, but I think you should, this may be the last chance you get to speak to him."

"I... Visit him?" Anne blinked. "Last chance?"

"I don't want to scare you, dear, but his mother told me his condition is quite grave," Marilla sighed. "Gilbert might not be with us next week."

"Gilbert?" Anne's voice trembled. "He's sick?"

"I understand your shock, but please do consider going to pay him a visit, whatever he did to offend you... it's better if you let him go with a clean conscience, he was such a good man..."

Marilla was talking of him as if he were already dead! He couldn't be! Anne had seen him in the picture—

But how long had it been since that? How long since she'd stopped dreaming about him? What if this was the reason?

Anne stood up and ran upstairs, she got to her room and locked herself away so she could be miserable in peace.

It was true that he had disrespected her, and she'd defended her honour with that slate... but he was really sweet and generous... or was he?

Ugh, she was so confused! How could she know what was real and what had been her imaginings entirely?

***

"Good morning, Princess Cordelia!" Cole stormed into the room and let himself fall on top of her. Anne groaned and pushed him away. "Are you ready for tonight? I'm planning to get you so drunk you start talking about shifting realities!"

"No!" She whined.

"What?" Cole looked at her.

"I'm not ready to—" She caught herself before she could say 'meet him', "...to get drunk! I think I should take a break from parties..."

She knew that meeting him would help her get over her infatuation, and maybe even stop her dreams... but she didn't want them to stop; it was so nice to have someone treating her the way Gilbert would in her imagination... what if he was just as awful as Roy? She wasn't ready to have her heart broken again...

"Anne, but you've only gone to one party since the holidays started," Cole visibly deflated, "please don't tell me this is about your ex? Diana told me you were writing again, I thought you were making progress..."

Anne shook her head. "I'm not feeling well, Cole."

Cole stood up, Anne pulled the blankets over her head.

———————————————

When the first group of people arrived, Gilbert's anxiety skyrocketed. He was expecting to see Diana's face any moment now, and that would end up confirming whether he would be reuniting with Anne that night or not.

Thirty minutes... an hour...

"Gilbert!" The young woman and her group of friends (including Cole) made a beeline towards him. "Oh my goodness, you're so tall!"

He smiled, for a moment his thoughts focused on his old friends, and how different yet similar they all look from their younger versions. Then he realized Anne wasn't there, and his hopes and expectations both crashed.

Of course she wasn't going to come! Even if she did live here, Diana had probably told her it was a reunion for old friends only, and she didn't know him, not the real him, and if he was really honest, he didn't know her either.

———————————————

If she were to stay and miss the party, she'd end up frustrated. If she did meet him and didn't like him, she would move on faster— a bit hurt, but knowing she was making the right choice.

However, if she were to attend the party, meet him, and realize he was all she'd been expecting him to be and more... well, she could only hope for him to be single.

Anne had been pacing up and down her apartment pretending to be cleaning when in reality she was only making a bigger mess. Her phone buzzed and Diana's name appeared on the screen. She picked it up with shaky hands and unlocked it.

'We miss u :c'

Under the text, there was a selfie of Diana, over her shoulder was Cole, and he was talking animatedly with... Dear God, he was taller than expected.

She stared at Cole and some strange resentment filled her.

"That should be me," She stated, and somehow she knew she was right. It should be Anne talking to Gilbert, taking a risk for the first time in years. She'd only dated one guy, for heaven's sake! She had to let herself live!

"FINE!" Anne groaned. "I'm going!"

***

Gilbert hadn't announced he was leaving, he knew they would all ask him to stay but he couldn't, he was disappointed, all he wanted was to stay home watching shitty romcoms and crying his eyes out.

It was all his fault, Anne had nothing to do with this, he had let his mind run wild and these were the consequences he was forced to face.

Unknown to him, Anne was in her apartment frantically changing her clothes and brushing her hair. She grabbed a bag and hastily put all her stuff in it. She'd already wasted two hours, she had to leave the house NOW.

Gilbert searched his pockets for change, he was planning to buy a few beers and get slightly tipsy so he could be sad properly. He found a dollar but the wind snatched it out of his hand abruptly. The young man let out a short groan as he ran after it. A door opened across the street and a woman's voice reached him.

"C'mon!" Anne closed the door roughly, she lifted her gaze and...

Gilbert didn't breathe, he didn't move. In front of him Anne stopped as well, her arms fell to her sides and she stood there wondering if she was dreaming.

"Hi."

That was his voice! His voice!

She shook her head lightly and walked down the few steps that separated her from the sidewalk. Gilbert's feet moved on their own until he was standing right in front of her.

Anne's hand reached blindly and pinched her arm, she hissed. He looked down at her wrist and frowned.

"I-I just had to check," She laughed nervously. "I have... a very good imagination— so... I just had to be sure this... is real."

Gilbert spoke in the softest of voices.

"Anne? With an E?"

"H-How..?"

"I'm Gilbert," He continued. "I don't know if you remember but... I think... I think we've met before?"

"My god— You won't believe this, but I've been having the strangest—"

"Dreams?" He finished for her. "Me too."

She laughed again, her hands were shaking.

"There... there was a coffee shop—"

"And a cat—"

"You were dying—"

"You were a pirate!"

They looked at each other in disbelief, their smiles growing.

"I... was it real?" She questioned.

Gilbert's brow furrowed as he spoke. "Which part?"

"I don't know... everything... us?"

"Anne," He repeated, this time a bit more urgently. "I have to know... does this mean... you know who I am?"

She beamed, then stretched out her hand.

"Gilbert Blythe, I'm Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. I broke a slate on your head the first time we spoke, and I've been sorry ever since, I just didn't remember it."

He let out an incredulous laugh and held her hand eagerly.

"Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, I think we're going to be the best of friends," He gazed down at her adoringly. "We're meant to be. You've thwarted destiny long enough."

"It was you who moved out before we could meet!"

"You left the bathroom before I could apologize!"

There was a moment of silence before Anne spoke again.

"You know what this means?"

"Yeah, we have around ten years of conversations we need to catch up to," He joked.

"Ten years and a month," She realized he hadn't let go of her hand, but she wasn't going to move any time soon. "But I'd say the night's still young. I was on my way to your party..."

"Can I walk you there?" He asked expectantly.

"Lead the way."

***

"Anne! You came!" Diana froze and stared at Gilbert. "Oh, hi. Did you guys know each other?"

Anne and Gilbert exchanged a look and smiled.

"I ran into him a moment ago," She explained. "He's nice."

"Thanks," He chuckled. "Anne was telling me she's been your best friend ever since she moved to Avonlea— is it true that she's the Cuthbert's daughter?"

"Yes!" Diana beamed. "Isn't she great?"

"Is it true you got drunk on accident when you were thirteen?"

Diana laughed.

"You're already sharing stories? Hang on, I have a great one of that one time she dyed her hair green—"

"Diana, don't you dare!"

***

"You lucky bastard," Bash slapped the back of his head as Gilbert walked into the kitchen.

"Ouch! What was that for?"

"You've been whining about your dream girl for weeks and just when you tell me you gave up, this breathtaking redhead steps into the diner and wastes the whole night flirting with you!" Bash said in disbelief. "How did you do that? What the hell did you sell your soul to?"

Gilbert laughed lightheartedly.

"Honestly, Bash, I have no clue... Was she really flirting with me, though? Do you think she likes me?"

Bash rolled his eyes.

"I swear, Blythe, if you don't ask her on a date I'll kill you."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Gilbert grinned.

***

"So, Gilbert," Cole nudged her arm as soon as the boy went into the kitchen. "You know he has a crush on you, right? It's so obvious, I'd be shocked if he doesn't get in one knee by the end of the night and asks you to marry him—"

"Don't scare her, Cole!" Josie slapped his arm lightly. "But Gilbert definitely likes you. He hasn't seen any of us in years and yet he's acting as if we were the strangers!"

Anne squirmed in her place giddily.

"I like him."

"That's our girl!" Jane exclaimed, finishing her drink in one large gulp. "I swear to god, Anne, if you don't take him home I'll run you over with my car..."

"Wow, that's a bit too drastic, don't you think?" Diana said. "They just met, and Anne's just recovering from her breakup with Roy!"

"Fuck Roy, honestly," Anne replied carelessly. "Gilbert's gorgeous..."

"Thanks," a voice said behind her.

Anne winced, the table fell silent and she covered her face with both hands.

"Oh my god... please tell me this isn't happening..."

The group burst out laughing, Gilbert sat down practically glowing with joy.

"Just so you know, I was about to ask you on a date, but I understand if you need time—"

"She'd be delighted!" Cole interrupted. "Please, help us, our friend desperately needs to get laid—"

"Are you talking about Gilbert?" Moody sat down next to Ruby and placed a drink in front of her. "Because the others told him that already and—"

"Okay!" Gilbert replied loudly. "Can we please not talk about sex?"

"Oh, pity, I was about to offer you a hand..." Anne teased.

Gilbert choked on his beer.

"W-What?"

"Smooth, doctor," Josie mumbled.

"Wait, is this actually happening?" Ruby asked with excitement. "Are you two going on a date for real?"

Gilbert stared at Anne with his mouth half-open, unable to get the words out. Anne simply smiled at him and nodded.

"Yes Gil, I'd love to."

The table went wild afterwards. Cole, Diana and Josie rambled about how they should've introduced them sooner, the rest simply were in for the teasing, but no one in the place apart from Anne and Gilbert knew exactly how long both had been waiting for this moment. No one was more relieved than them.

No one was happier than Gilbert as he reached for her hand and held it in front of everyone. No one felt giddier and excited than Anne when he asked for her phone number.

Life had turned into their best dream.

Taglist.

@ninizkd @http-itsrebecca @fuckthisshitimoutyall @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @little-boats-on-a-lake @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @skarlygonzalez

[myonepiece]

Buggy, Kid, Killer headcanon- seeing you dance with someone else

•~•~•~•~

You’re already together btw

Sorry they’re kinda long

Buggy

•My poor love I just want to hug him and kiss his nose

•You have been together for 1 1/2 months but of course he’s liked you way longer

•Buggy had dropped you off at an island a little ways away from the one he & the rest of the crew were heading to

•You had gotten into a fight with an already mad Buggy & he insulted you including calling you weak for giving him a flower you had found & you were still very angry which is why you had asked him for time alone

•Once in the village, you were invited to a party on a ship that was going to be staying close to the island- it was a fancier party, thrown by one of the rich bachelors in the village, so you bought a nice long blue dress and some silver heels in one of the village shops

•Later on into the night the band started playing a slow song, and it just so happened that the bachelor who threw the party asked you for a dance & you accepted for distraction from your depressing thoughts

•You had always loved slow dancing and wanted to ask Buggy but you were too scared to because of the whole “pirates don’t do weak stuff” and you classified slow dancing as something pirates would call weak

•The man led you to the center of the parted crowd and rested one hand on your waist and taking one of your hands in his other (or traditional slow dancing position) and he started to lead you

•Meanwhile, Buggy and his crew had boarded his ship and were sailing towards where you were- it was now midnight and Buggy was very worried about you and missed you

•All Buggy wanted was to have you back in his arms laying in bed in your shared cabin whispering apologies and trying to make you smile & smiled just thinking about it, but his smile and his heart quickly broke as he spotted you through binoculars, dancing in the arms of another man

•His mouth straightened into a thin line as his heart squeezed at the thought that 1 fight had ended his relationship with the woman he loved more than anything

•The closer they sailed, he could make out the mans grip on you & your smiles as you looked at each other while slowly moving in the romantic setting

•Buggy’s heart felt like it was being ripped apart as he remembered that he had called you weak for giving him that flower, surely you thought he wouldn’t want to do something as cliche and “un-piratey” as slow dancing in the moonlight but he would love to do that with you, to have you smile at him the you were smiling at the rich man holding you

•Of course someone like you would never really love someone like Buggy, a stupid clown pirate with a giant red nose- Buggy’s thoughts turned against him as he fought to hold back tears, he told Cabaji to get you into the ship and then he left to hide in your shared cabin

•You saw the ship but didn’t see Buggy, you figured he saw you dancing and your heart hurt at the thought of hurting the man you love

•You got right on the ship and ran below deck into your cabin where Buggy was sitting on the bed sulking

•Your heart broke at the sight and you locked the door behind you as you hurried across the room and sat in front of Buggy and took both of his hands in yours apologizing profusely “I’m so sorry my darling I promise it meant nothing”

•You explained your thoughts and reasons to a teary eyed Buggy and after you finished he nodded and said he understood but he would dance with you anytime and didn’t mean to call you weak, he actually loved the flower you gave him

•You took off your dress while buggy turned and closed his eyes, then gave you his coat to wear to bed

•He held directly on top of his chest and looked you in the eyes telling you “I love you do so much Y/N, I promise I’ll do anything to make you happy” to which you respond with kissing his nose before following with a “I love you too my clown king” then falling asleep as he cradled you to his chest with a bright blush and huge grin

Kid

•You’ve been together for 7 months

•It’s no secret Captain Kid doesn’t do romance, so when you ask him to slow dance with you he says no

•You’ve asked on multiple occasions but he always makes a disgusted face and says “pirates don’t slow dance”

•Kid said slow dancing is weak and he was too strong for that

•Kid is a violent, cruel, & aggressive man so you can’t say you expected him to say yes to any of your requests

•When you heard about a fancy little party going on at island you landed at, you decided to go and get some food & dance a little

•You asked Kid to come and dance, but of course he said no and that he and the rest of the crew were going to find a bar

•You found a beautiful long dress in one of the town shops and set out to the party at sunset a little after the crew had left

•All eyes were on you at the party, as you walked around and had a few things to eat and a few drinks

•A slow song started and you wished Kid was there, but you realized he would’ve scoffed and continued getting drunk

•You just wanted him to hold you close as you swayed to soft music, you wanted him to be soft instead of crude and pervy

•So when a man asked you to dance you accepted with only a tiny part of your brain worrying about Kid

•Kid had seen you follow a path into the woods, wearing a dress that complemented every part of your beauty

•He just couldn’t help but smirk and tell Killer to watch the crew as he went to follow you

•He was also angry that you were going out to a party alone wearing that

•The path led Kid to a small courtyard lit with lanterns, with music playing and people dressed in nice clothes

•He looked through the courtyard for you but he didn’t see you until the guests all moved and made room for a couple slow dancing, the couple being you and the stranger

•As soon as he saw the man’s arms around you leading you in a slow dance & the wide smile on your face showing that you were enjoying this, Kid felt his heart clench

•He didn’t feel all anger for once, he felt an ache in the pit of his stomach

•He hadn’t realized how much you would have enjoyed slow dancing with him, you had asked him many times but he always saw it as weak

•He knew he was violent, aggressive & scary, and seeing someone make you smile so beautifuly by being so gentle.. so opposite him made him feel... insecure

•Kid felt like he was losing you and he hated that feeling, like the one thing he loved was being ripped away from him in front of his eyes

•He snapped & barged into the courtyard grabbing you by the hand and tearing you away from the man then leading you into the woods to a clearing where the moonlight cast a spotlight-like glow

•Kid rested his hands on your waist and looked into the distance with a solemn expression as he started to sway

•You didn’t know what happened but you were finally getting to slow dance with Kid so you placed your hands on his strong shoulders rested your head on his chest

•You mumbled a “thank you” into his chest and after a few moments Kid whispered a soft “I love you Y/N” into your hair as he rested his head on top of yours

Killer

•God I love this man

•You had only been together for 3 1/2 months

•Killer would’ve said yes if you had asked him to slow dance with you

•He didn’t mind doing romantic things for you especially when it made you so happy

•He’s in love with you and would anything for you

•You had never asked Killer to dance with you because you had assumed he would say no because you were pretty sure pirates don’t slow dance and you didn’t want him to think your were weak or pathetic for asking for something so cliche

•So after having a few drinks in a bar, you were feeling particularly soft and in a romantic mood

•You weren’t completely drunk but you were tipsy enough to think it was okay to go outside to slow dance with a man who had asked you and who was not your boyfriend

•Killer came back from the bathroom and asked Heat where you went, to which Heat responded by pointing towards the door with a skeptical and somewhat nervous expression

•Killer walked out of the bar hoping to find you alone so you could spend some time with you alone, so he was not happy at all when he walked out to see you swaying slowly in the moonlight shining into the alley around the corner with your hand in the hand of another man

•He had his hand on your waist and his other hand holding yours (in a traditional slow dancing position)

•Killer felt his heart drop immediately and his heart clenched as he took in the sight of your contempt smile

•He was very insecure about himself, his laugh, his appearance with his mask, and the way you couldn’t look into his eyes like you were looking into the other man’s

•Accompanying the jealousy and hurt that clawed at his heart, there was an anger and possessiveness and a few drinks but not many that caused him to rush into the street and grab the man by his shirt and throw him to the ground away from you

•Killer waited for the man to run away before he turned back to you and pulled you towards him with his hands on your waist

•You placed your hands on his strong chest as he swayed slowly with you looking down at you through the holes of his mask

•”I really wish you had asked me to dance with you if that’s what you wanted to do” Killer said in a quite voice laced with hurt

•Your Heart broke at the sound of it and the realization of what you had done “I’m so sorry Killer, I just thought that someone like you wouldn’t want to do something so... weak”

•”I would do anything for you sweetie” Killer said softly as he hugged you to his chest, you looked up and kissed his chin lightly before settling your face in his chest

[wouldpollyapprove]

I’m Not Like Her: Part 2

Summary:  Y/n never thought she’d take a job as a barmaid, but she had to do what she had to do. Fleeing from a mob in Aberdeen, she was willing to do anything to live a peaceful life. And if that meant working for the Shelby’s then so be it. Life was normal until the mob decided to make an appearance in Birmingham, leading Tommy start to believe Y/n wasn’t exactly who she said she was.

Thomas Shelby x reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: language, violence, angst

A/N: I’m considering doing a third part for this, I don’t know why. I’m not sure what I would do but that’s only if you guys want me to. I hope to have a few headcanons out this week, so be looking for those. And I’ll be closing requests sometime this week.

Part One

Masterlist

God only knows how long Y/n sat in misery, tears staining her cheeks. No one cared to look down the alleyway to see a teary-eyed girl, crumpled against between the buildings. They’d all seen it before. For one reason or another, those on the street had caught girls with red puffy eyes, using the alley to shield them from the world. So, there Y/n sat, the only one feeling sorry for her was herself. No one cared about her problems, they all had their own. 

The waterworks eventually stopped, their creator dehydrated and tired, and Y/n made her way home, tired of the filth surrounding her. The sun was starting to set and wind blew violently through the streets, a warning of an upcoming storm. She gave no mind to the weather, eyes to the ground, as the events of the last 24 hours played on repeat in her head. Looking back, there was little that could’ve been done to prevent any of it. If she’d been honest from the beginning about her life in Scotland, Tommy wouldn’t trust her just as he didn’t at that moment. Nothing could save her from that outcome. Truth nor lies could bring her peace.

Rain pounded the ground before she was halfway home. Those still on the street set a quicker pace, trying to keep from getting soaked, using newspapers and coats to shield themselves. Not Y/n, though. No, she let the water drowned out her surroundings, soaking her hair and clothes. There was no reason to rush home as it was. 

Even miserable, she couldn’t help but smile when a long-forgotten memory resurfaced. 

It was years ago, in Aberdeen, right after Roger had taken over his father’s company and all his time was spent at his office. The man had finally been able to find time to escape the clutches of business and out of the blue took Y/n on a picnic. When he wanted, Roger could be a romantic, a side few got to see, it was his best side. Up a hill, they went, near a pond surrounded by willows. The two watched ducks swim between reeds as they munched on their food until rain fell from the dangerously dark clouds above.

A shriek left Y/n’s lips when it started to come down in buckets. “We’ll never make it to the car unscathed,” she shouted and tried to pick up their plates.

Roger was already on his feet, love in his eyes. “Then how ‘bout ya dance with me?” A hand extended to his partner.

“I’d love to.” A bright smile on her lips as she took his hand, using him to help her up.

Only fools in love would dance in the rain, but neither cared how foolish they looked. Lovers rarely cared about anything but each other, the title of fool never crossed their mind. They danced, without music, to the beat of the rain. In that moment, they were the only two in the world, their problems washed away in the rain that.

If only there was someone to dance with her on the streets of Small Heath. Take away her pain and love her like a fool. Spin her around, step to the memory of any waltz that came to mind. But all alone she stood, soaked to the bone, as she trudged home. There was no love in this rainstorm, only misery. 

In the safety of her home, Y/n didn’t bother to rid herself of her wet clothes. They were like a second skin at that point. She’s lost the chill feeling that set in during rain, numb to everything but her aching heart. Like a lost dog, she wandered around the house, seeking nothing in particular. Walking through the kitchen, she opened the fridge, nothing caught her eyes so she shut the door. In the parlor, all the books had already been read and there was never anything interesting on the radio. Her bedroom held nothing of interest. She wasn’t tired, didn’t want to change her clothes, didn’t want to do anything. She couldn’t sit in fear that her sorrows would drown her.

Like a ghost, she was on a loop, cycling through the three rooms. Each time, hoping something would catch her eye, pull her in. Nothing ever did.

And then there came a bang at the door.

Violent and demanding, again and again someone hit the wood. That was enough to pull her out of the trance she’d been in. Eyes wide in fear, Y/n stood in the threshold between the kitchen and parlor, uncertain if she should approach the door. First, she assumed it was merely thunder that struck the street outside, but it didn’t let up. Bang after bang, it continued. It was no thunder. It was a person, she had concluded, but there were no voices, no traces of who could be on the other side. She was certain that if it was someone she knew they would make themselves known. 

Before she could make a move, a brutal force caused the door to swing open, hitting the wall on the other side. A scream was lodged in her throat as her eyes locked with the man who stood where the door had been. Tall and muscular, his green eyes glowed in rage. A smile that could have been friendly in a different light made him look like a predator after capturing its prey. Swallowing down her scream, Y/n realized how much like prey she looked. Cornered, small, pale, alone.

The perfect meal.

“No wonder Roger would kill for you,” the man snickered, eyes scanning her body. A shaky breath parted her lips, wishing she could curl up in a ball. The stranger’s intent was unclear, but she knew it wasn’t friendly.

Hands shaking, Y/n clasped them together, intertwining her fingers. “Whatever Roger did, it’s doesn’t involve me.” The words, meant to be confident and strong, came out meek and earned a laugh from her intruder.

He moved from the door, taking in his new surrounding. “I don’t believe that’s how that works, darling.” In the blink of an eye, he stood before her. Damn his long legs. Y/n sucked in a breath, urging her body to move, react. It failed her, doing nothing. “Roger will know better next time.” A rough hand grasped her jaw and pulled her close, a bruise already forming from the force. “And he will not forget this.”

Neither would Y/n when the man walked out the door, his name never learned, as her body shook, blood running down her cheek. Dazed, she made her way to the bathroom. A glance at the mirror in front of her, she saw the bruises that littered her skin from being thrown around the room, cuts from knives or rings. Y/n was no helpless girl, Roger taught her how to defend herself, but she was no match for the giant that had done all that. She was a mouse compared to that man. 

There was no winning that fight. 

Y/n didn’t tell Roger, didn’t bother calling picking up the phone. She cleaned herself up, wiping the dry blood from her damaged skin, and threw her torn clothes in the corner of the bathroom. It was better to pretend the assault had never happened than let Roger back into her life. Seeing him once for a few fleeting moments was good enough for her. There was no need to give him an excuse to stay around. 

So, for a few days, Y/n stayed holed up in her apartment. There was enough food in the fridge to last her a while and enough money saved up to last her a few month’s rent. There was no need to search for a job when she looked like the apples at the fruit stand people never bought. 

Peace, or what was closest to it, settled over her as Y/n spent her time baking and reading. Anything to distract her. But that couldn’t last, now could it? Not when the telephone in the parlor rang and she foolishly picked it up.

“Hello.”

“You need to come pick up your paycheck,” Harry told her, no kindness in his voice. Tommy clearly hadn’t kept his mouth shut about what he thought she was. A backstabber.

She sighed and played with the hem of her apron. “Can’t someone drop it off?” Her question was answered with a ‘no’. “Why not?”

“Tommy said you have to pick it up yourself.”

The line fell silent before another word could be said. Y/n groaned at the thought of walking through those pub doors again. She was smart enough to know that the whole Shelby family would probably be there to greet her, shove money in her hands, and tell her get the fuck out of Birmingham. 

“What a fucking week,” she muttered as a single tear rolled down her cheek. She didn’t want to leave. Not because of some misunderstanding.

Clean clothes paired with freshly done hair, Y/n left her house to retrieve her paycheck. The walk was stressful, she wore a hat to conceal what her hair couldn’t, but she feared it wasn’t enough. There were no prying eyes, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel watched, ashamed from even stepping out the front door.

Finally upon her destination, she stared at the doors. A lamb to the slaughter, that’s what she felt like. She’d been kicked one too many times while down to feel like a lion. Like any animal that could stand upon another in victory. She was the field the mouse that ran from the hawk. The fly that flew straight into the spider’s web. The lamb that couldn’t escape slaughter. With all the courage she could muster, that being an ounce, Y/n took a deep breath and entered the pub, trying to forget about the lamb.

All conversations died when she stepped foot in the room, all eyes turned to her. There was no way she could meet anyone’s eyes, not when she knew what they thought of her. Tommy was against the bar, more focused on his drink than her, while his family threw looks of disgust at her. Not that she blamed any of them.

“I’m here for my paycheck.”

Polly rolled her eyes from where she sat at a booth with Esme. “Don’t know why you’d want to step foot in here now that we know what you are.”

“I asked her here, Pol,” Tommy told his aunt as he lite a cigarette. That earned him a groan from her, she was tired of his behavior when it came to women. 

“I just want my paycheck,” she announced to the room. “Give it to me and I’ll leave. You’ll never have to-”

“Why?” Tommy interrupted her.

“Why what?”

“Why’d you do it? Why’d you talk to Roger?”

It was hard to bite back her laughter, a bit of it spilling between her teeth and out her lips. “He talked to me, Tommy, not that you cared to ask though. Him and I used to be something, but that was a long time ago. But I guess I don’t owe you any explanation as to why I was talking with him because you never cared to ask before,” she sneered and brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

Though it was a small piece, it was enough to expose a bruised patch of skin on her jaw and upper cheek. Once full of disgust, everyone’s eyes softened. Perhaps it was a mixture of her bitter words and her damaged appearance, but it shifted the mood of the room. 

Tommy’s blue orbs, once ice-cold, warmed with concern. He stepped towards her out of instinct, “Who did this to you?” he asked, hand hovering by her cheek. He was desperate to touch her, feel her warm skin, and melt into her, but fear of rejection kept him from her. 

She shrugged, the shame from the walk over boiled away from anger. “Doesn’t matter,” Y/n waved the question off. “It’s not your problem anymore.”

“Like hell it isn’t!” He threw his arms in the air, any thought of his family being in the room vanished. “Who did this?” He demanded.

Y/n couldn’t meet his eyes, instead, taking in the pub’s walls she’d looked at almost every day. They hadn’t changed, but they didn’t have eyes that could gaze into the soul, nor lips that could crush the heart. Walls, that’s all they were. Nothing but wood, nails, and paint. They could do no harm. 

Perhaps the shame hadn’t gone away.

It sat dormant for a while as she felt like a lion, but once again she had become the mouse. The answer wasn’t one to fear, it was rather simple actually, but that wasn’t what kept it from her tongue. More than anything, she feared Tommy’s reaction. With the flip of a switch he could become a violent monster and she didn’t want to see that. She didn’t want to know the things he would do, the things he was capable of.

“Y/n,” his voice soft like honey pulled her gaze to him. She said nothing as his arms wrapped around her in an embrace. It was only minutes ago that he wanted nothing to do with her. “I should’ve talked to you instead of sent you away,” he whispered in her ear, hand rubbing her back. “I’m sorry for that. Now, please-” Tommy pulled away to see her face, the bruise on her jaw along with other small cuts clearly visible. “-tell me who did this?”

Not one for displays of affections, Y/n wanted to relish in the embrace for as long as she could. There was no telling when the man would do something like that again. But she knew that answer had to be given. “Someone Roger fucked over,” she muttered. “I don’t know his name, but none of that matters.”

A gentle finger lifted her chin, softer than the one that’d bruised her days before. “It does matter. Now, let’s get you a cup of tea and we’ll talk like we should have in the first place.”

*~~*~~*

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