#but i do have many fond memories of it and many good things did come out of it‚ as well as bad

[alfredfortnitejones]

IT JUST HIT ME THAT IT'S BEEN EXACTLY 3 YEARS SINCE SCHLATT WON THE L'MANBERG ELECTION WHAT THE HECKKKKK

[gallusrostromegalus]

Move To A Darker Place

This is a story of Man Vs. Machine.

---

Last March, my father attempted to file his Taxes.

My beloved father is a Boomer. Unlike most Boomers, my father is rather handy with technology because he was one of the people that had a not-insignificant hand in Developing a hell of a lot of it. He was studying Computer Science at Cal Poly before the computer science degree existed. I have many fond childhood memories of skipping through the aisles of various electronic and computer part warehouses while Dad described something that either terrified the staff or made them worship him as a God.  He taught himself how to use his smartphone.  Internationally.

So when he saw the option to file digitally with the IRS through the “ID.me” program, he leapt at the chance to celebrate the Federal Government finally entering the Digital Age.

It was all going swimmingly for about six hours, until he was ready to file and the system told him that it needed to verify his identity. 

“Very Well.” said my father, a man unafraid of talking to himself and getting something out of the conversation. “It wouldn’t do for me to get someone else’s return.”

The System told him that it needed him to take a “Digital Image ID”.

a.k.a: A Selfie.

“A-ha!” Dad beams. Dad is very good at taking selfies. He immediately pulled out his phone, snapped one, and tried to upload it.

Please log into your Id.me Account and use the provided app to submit your Digital Image ID. The System clarified.

“Oh. You should have said so.”  Dad pouted, but used his phone to log onto the ID.me account, do the six security verification steps and double-checked that the filing looked the same as it did on the desktop, gave the IRS like nine permissions on his phone, and held up the camera to take his Federal Privacy Invasion Selfie.

Please align your face to the indicated grid. Said The System, pulling up a futuristic green-web-of-polygons approximation.

“Ooh, very Star Trek. Gene Roddenberry would HATE this!” Dad said cheerfully, aligning his face to the grid.  My father is a bit… cavalier, when it comes to matters of personal information and federal government, because he’s been on FBI watchlists since the late 60’s when he was protesting The Vietnam War and Ronald Regan before he’d broken containment. Alas.

Anyway, there is very little information the federal government does not have on him already, but he’s as good at stalking the FBI as they are at stalking him, and had worked out a solution:  He has something approaching a friendship with the local Federal Agent (Some guy named “Larry”. Allegedly), and got Larry hooked on Alternative Histories and Dad’s collection of carefully-researched “there is very likely buried treasure here” stories, and Larry is loath to bother his favorite Historical Fanfiction author too much.

But I digress.

After thinking for a minute, The System came back with an Error Message. Please remove glasses or other facial obstructions.

And here is where the real trouble began.

See, my father wears glasses that do substantially warp the appearance of his face, because he is so nearsighted that he is legally blind without them. His natural focal point is about 4 inches in front of his nose.  While Dad can still take a selfie because he (approximately) knows where his phone is if it’s in his hand, he cannot see the alignment grid.

He should ask someone to take it for him! I hear the audience say. Yes, that would be the sane and reasonable thing to do, but Dad was attempting to do taxes at his residence in Fort Collins, while his immediate family was respectively in Denver, Texas and Canada.  He tried calling our neighbors, who turned out to be in Uganda.

He looked down at the dog, Arwen, and her little criminal paws that can open doorknobs, but not operate cell phones.

She looked back at him, and farted.

“Well, I’ll give it a try, but if it gives me too much trouble, I’ll call Larry, and Larry can call the IRS about it.” Dad told her. 

She continued to watch him. Arwen is an Australian Kelpie (a type of cattle-herding dog), going on 14 years old, deaf as a post and suffering from canine dementia now, but she still retains her natural instinct to Micromanage. She was also trained as a therapy dog, and even if she can’t hear my dad, still recognizes the body language of a man setting himself up for catastrophe.

So, squinting in the late afternoon light next to the back door, Dad attempted to line his face up with a grid he could only sort-of see, and took A Federal Selfie.

The System thought about it for a few moments.

Image Capture Failed: Insufficient Contrast. The System replied. Please move to a darker place.

“...Huh.” Dad frowned. “Alright.”

He moved to the middle of his office, away from the back door, lit only by the house lighting and indirect sunlight, and tried again.

Image Capture Failed. Please move to a darker place.

“What?” Dad asked the universe in general.

“Whuff.” Arwen warned him against sunk costs.

Dad ignored her and went into the bathroom, the natural habitat of the selfie. Surely, only being lit by a light fixture that hadn’t been changed since Dad was attempting to warn everyone about Regan would be suitably insufficient lighting for The System.  It took some negotiating, because that bathroom is “Standing Room Only” not “Standing And Holding Your Arms Out In Front Of You Room”.  He ended up taking the selfie in the shower stall.

As The System mulled over the latest attempt, Arwen shuffled over and kicked open the door to watch.

Image Capture Failed. Please Move to a Darker Place.

“Do you mean Spiritually?” Dad demanded.

“Whuff.” Arwen cautioned him again.

Determined to succeed, or at least get a different error message that may give him more information, Dad entered The Downstairs Guest Room.  It is the darkest room in the house, as it is in the basement, and only has one legally-mandated-fire-escape window, which has blinds.  Dad drew those blinds, turned off the lights and tried AGAIN.

Image Capture Failed. Please Move To A Darker Place.

“DO YOU WANT ME TO PHOTOGRAPH MYSELF INSIDE OF A CAVE??” Dad howled. 

“WHUFF!” Arwen reprimanded him from under the pull-out bed in the room. It’s where she attempts to herd everyone when it’s thundering outside, so the space is called her ‘Safety Cave’.

Dad frowned at the large blurry shape that was The Safety Cave.

“Why not?” he asked, the prelude to many a Terrible Plan.  With no small amount of spiteful and manic glee, Dad got down onto the floor, and army-crawled under the bed with Arwen to try One Last Time. Now in near-total darkness, he rolled on his side to be able to stretch his arms out, Arwen slobber-panting in his ear, and waited for the vague green blob of the Facial grid to appear.

This time, when he tapped the button, the flash cctivated.

“GOD DAMN IT!” Dad shouted, dropping the phone and rubbing his eyes and cursing to alleviate the pain of accidentally flash-banging himself. Arwen shuffled away from him under the bed, huffing sarcastically at him.

Image Capture Failed. Please move to a darker place.

“MOTHERFU- hang on.” Dad squinted.  The System sounded strange. Distant and slightly muffled.

Dad squinted really hard, and saw the movement of Arwen crawling out from under the bed along the phone’s last known trajectory.

“ARWEN!” Dad shouted, awkwardly reverse-army crawling out from under the bed, using it to get to his feet and searching for his glasses, which had fallen out of his pocket under the bed, so by the time he was sighted again, Arwen had had ample time to remove The Offending Device.

He found her out in the middle of the back yard, the satisfied look of a Job Well Done on her face. She did not have the phone. 

“Arwen.” Dad glared. It’s a very good glare. Dad was a teacher for many years and used it to keep his class in order with sheer telepathically induced embarrassment, and his father once glared a peach tree into fecundity.  

Arwen regarded him with the casual interest a hurricane might regard a sailboat tumbling out of its wake. She is a force of nature unto herself and not about to be intimidated by a half-blind house ape.  She also has cataracts and might not be able to make out the glare.

“I GIVE UP!” Dad shouted, throwing his hands in the air and returning to the office to write to the IRS that their selfie software sucks ass. Pleased that she had gotten her desired result, Arwen followed him in.

To Dad’s immense surprise, the computer cheerfully informed him that his Federally Secure Selfie had been accepted, and that they had received and were now processing his return!

“What the FUCK?” Dad glared. “Oh well. If I’ve screwed it up, Larry can call me.”

---

I bring this up because recently, Dad received an interesting piece of mail.

It was a letter from the IRS, addressed to him, a nerve-wracking thing to recessive at the best of times.  Instead of a complaint about Dad’s Selfie Skills, it was a letter congratulating him on using the new ID.me System.  It thanked him for his help and expressed hopes he would use it again next year, and included the selfie that The System had finally decided to accept.

“You know, my dad used to complain about automation.” Dad sighed, staring at the image. “Incidentals my boy!  My secretary saves the state of California millions of dollars a year catching small errors before they become massive ones! He’d say. Fought the human resources board about her pay every year.  I used to think he was overestimating how bad machines were and underestimating human error, but you know? He was right.”

He handed me the image.

My father was, technically, in the image.  A significant amount of the bottom right corner is taken up by the top of his forehead and silver hair.  Most of the image, the part with the facial-recognition markers on it, was composed of Arwen’s Alarmed and Disgusted Doggy face.

“Oh no!” I cackled. “Crap, does this mean you have to call the IRS and tell them you’re not a dog?”

“Probably.” Dad sighed. “I know who I’m gonna bother first though.” he said, taking out his phone (Dad did find his phone a few hours after Arwen absconded with it when mom called and the early spinach started ringing). 

“Hey Larry!” Dad announced to the local federal agent. “You’re never gonna believe this. My dog filed my taxes!”

Larry considered this for a moment. “Is this the dog that stole my sandwich? Out of my locked  car?” he asked suspiciously.

“The very same.” Dad grinned.

“Hm. Clever Girl.” Federal Agent Larry sighed. “I figured it was only a matter of time before she got into tax fraud.”

---

I'm a disabled artist making my living writing these stories. If you enjoy my stories, please consider supporting me on Ko-fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Book on Patreon. Thank you!

[princessbellecerise]

You Kiss Their Scars

Summary ✩ How your lover reacts to you kissing their scars

Warnings ✩ Mentions of violence and blood

Jacaerys Velaryon

You were amused as your lips pressed against the teeth shaped scars, in the shape of tiny little bite marks that Jace explained were from Vermax

“He used to bite me plenty when we shared a crib,” Your husband told you. “He was a nasty little thing. Mother was afraid he’d take a chunk out of my arm—but he never did. He stopped doing it when I bit him back,” He revealed

You giggled as you imagined baby Jace and baby Vermax—both the same size at one point—going at it while Rhaenyra tried to separate them. “So I suppose you’ve both always been temperamental then,” You said

It was no surprise that your husband, who also had quite the temper, related so much to his dragon. The two were one of the same, and you guessed that’s why they got along so well

“Yes,” Jacaerys agreed, a fond smile on his face as he recalled the memories. “We were quite a menacing pair indeed.”

Aegon Targaryen

“She did it again,” Is the only thing Aegon had to tell you in order for you to pull him into your arms, kissing the spot where a nasty red bruise was forming

It was no secret that your husband and his mother did not get along, but never did you think that she would have the audacity to strike him after an argument

It was appalling to you every time it happened, and you wanted nothing more than to march towards her and give the same treatment, Queen be damned

It wasn’t fair that she took out her anger out on Aegon but he begged you, no pleaded with you to not do anything

“It won’t do any good,” He’d tell you sadly, and your heart would ache as you saw the brokenness, the sadness on his face. “She’ll just hate me even more if you act.”

Aemond Targaryen

“Hold still.”

You jutted your tounge out in concentration as you cleaned Aemond’s scar, making sure that it was sanitized properly for the day

Your husband trusting you with such a thing was an act of love itself. The fact that he trusted you to see his deepest insecurity meant alot to you, and all you could do to repay him and hopefully bring up his spirits was pepper light kisses on the skin surrounding it

“There, all done.”

“Thank you, my love,” Aemond smiled slightly as he touched the spots were your lips touched, still wondering how he got so lucky as to find someone like you

Cregan Stark

“Ow! Be gentle, woman,” Cregan said playfully, wincing as you brushed over his ‘scar’ with a wet cloth

Somehow, for some reason, your dear husband thought it would be funny to wrestle with his dire wolf and then he had the nerve to come crawling to you, asking you to patch up his wounds after the beast had bitten him

Of course, it wasn’t really that big of a deal and Cregan wasn’t really hurt, but you still smirked as you pressed a kiss to it like it was a real wound

“There. That should ease some of the pain, you big baby,” You teased, rolling your eyes

Cregan chuckled as he checked your work, looking at the bandage you had placed over some ointment

“What do you suppose it’ll look like when it heals?” He asked you seriously

“It’ll look like you simply have a freckle, Creagn,” You responded sarcastically, and then you giggled as he grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his lap

“Don’t make fun me, wife. You should be proud,” He said, flexing the arm where the bite was. “How many men do you know have taken on such a beast and lived to tell the tale?”

“Only you, husband. Only you.” You snorted at his dramatics, wondering just what you were going to do with your silly, drama queen of a husband

Benjicot Blackwood

There was reason they called your husband ‘Bloody Ben’

You found this out when one day, he came limping home after solving a conflict in the Riverlands, covered in wounds and blood—so much blood

Thankfully, most of it wasn’t his but Benji still did have a few wounds that needed looking after

The Maester was busy, having been sent by your husband to tend to the other men, so you got the pleasure of dragging him to your chambers, making sure that he was clean before you began to stitch him up

The entire time you worked, Benji barely even flinched which amazed you

By the time that you were done with his top half, he’d barely said a word or complained which led to you kissing over a few of his stitches as a reward

“What was that for?” He asked in wonder, a small blush on his cheeks while you grinned

“That, my love, is for being such a good patient,” You told him cheekily, and you did not expect what Benji did next

Standing up, he loosened his trousers and then he grinned as he pointed at the area beneath his small clothes

“Well in that case, I’ll need plenty of kisses here, too. No promises that I won’t move if you touch me there though.”

“Benji!”

[solarmorrigan]

So this started out as some scribbly thoughts on FTM Steve and devolved a little bit into smutty Steddie rambling. As happens. So anyway, explicit text below the cut, click through at your own discretion, et cetera

Warnings(?) for some clumsy language and hints of period-typical transphobia; some discussion of Steve and Nancy together, but only for Steddie purposes. This is mostly just silly

-

“So, wait, you slept with how many girls in high school, and still managed to keep this a secret?” Eddie asks, brows climbing his forehead.

“Not as many as rumor would’ve had you think.” Steve shrugs. “Like maybe four? The rest, I just… didn’t discourage when they exaggerated. Helped my image.”

Eddie can’t help but snort. He’s glad Steve outgrew that image. “Still, four is a lot to keep a lid on. All of them agreed not to tell and then just – didn’t?”

“Actually, most of them never found out. It was only–” Steve pauses, eyeing Eddie cautiously, as if talking about his past female sexual conquests with his current boyfriend is fine, but what he’s going to say next will be a bridge too far. “It was only Nancy who ever knew.”

Ah.

Ah, yes. Nancy. Nancy Wheeler. Steve’s one true love.

Until now, Eddie fiercely reminds himself. He eyes the t-shirt that is very much his that Steve is very much wearing and slides over the jealousy to address his more pressing question.

“Okay, how did you have sex with at least three other people without them finding out you don’t have a–” Eddie stops short, fumbles for a moment, “a, uh, conventional dick?”

Steve snickers. “Nice save. And, uh – I never actually took off my pants. My talents are in other areas, and I always provided enough of a distraction that they didn’t seem to notice when I just… took care of myself.” He wiggles his eyebrows at Eddie, who can’t help but give him the laugh he’s looking for. “It didn’t say flattering things about my stamina, but multiple orgasms are a pretty good bribe. I got good reviews.”

“Huh.” Somehow, Eddie can’t help but feel impressed; he doesn’t quite understand why Steve had felt the need to do it at all—still doesn’t really understand Steve’s drive for popularity when he’d been in high school—but he can admit the skill in the subterfuge. “But you told Wheeler?”

He’s not sure why he’s asking. A part of him, he thinks, wants to make sure Steve had been able to tell her on his own terms, rather than having his hand forced.

Steve shifts, shrugs. He doesn’t look sad, but he’s maybe a little melancholy.

“Nance wasn’t… temporary, for me. She wasn’t a fling, and I didn’t want to hide from her. And it’s the same with you.” Steve’s gaze falls heavy on Eddie. “You are the… third? person I’ve ever told. I want you to know just– all of me.”

Eddie reaches out, grabbing for Steve’s hand; he’s pretty sure he’d be physically incapable of stopping himself from somehow touching Steve after an admission like that.

A thought is beginning to form, however, leading back to what had started this conversation in the first place. Eddie would bet anything that if Wheeler was the first person Steve told, then Buckley was the second.

And that meant only one person Steve had slept with had ever known all of him – but just how much of all of him had Wheeler been interested in?

“How’d she take it? Wheeler, I mean,” Eddie asks, as casually as possible while his thumb is still stroking Steve’s knuckles.

“Uh… pretty good, actually. She was kinda surprised, and she wanted a little bit of time to come around to the idea, but I think she was mostly just bothered that she didn’t figure it out before I told her.” Steve smiles, distantly fond. “But after that, she was cool. We didn’t talk about it much, but I knew that I could talk to her if I wanted to. I’d never had that before. It was… nice.”

It does sound nice. It had probably been the first time anyone had ever been close to accepting every part of who Steve is, and Eddie feels almost bad about turning the memory to sex.

Almost, but not quite.

“So… she was cool with…” Eddie’s eyes flash down below the belt, obvious and significant, “getting involved?”

A sly grin spreads over Steve’s face as he catches Eddie’s eyes. “Are you trying to ask what Nancy and I did in bed?”

Eddie throws his hands up in defense, forgetting for a moment that he’s holding one of Steve’s hands and pulling it up with him. “I’m just trying to figure out what I’m working with here,” he insists, smiling a little too hard to be innocent. “Now, you insinuated you have talents in the oral and digital departments—which I am very interested in, by the way—but what I want to know is what’s been done for you.”

Steve eyes Eddie like he’s considering whether or not to answer, but the way he’s licking his lips says he’s already decided, even if he doesn’t quite realize that himself.

“She… definitely didn’t mind being involved,” he says finally; there’s a slight stain of pink gathering at the tops of his cheeks that Eddie sort of wants to bite. “She would finger me. Sometimes she’d go down on me, but I think we both enjoyed it more the other way around. I think she liked seeing me get myself off while I did it, and I– definitely liked that, too.”

Eddie makes the mistake of imagining it: Steve on his knees, fingers buried in his cunt, wet and dripping, his hips jerking down onto his own hand, maybe kneeling between Eddie’s legs while he does it, maybe looking up through his lashes while he sucks Eddie’s cock.

A little noise escapes Eddie.

“How about… toys?” he manages after a moment. He’s leaning closer now, raptly watching the way the flush on Steve’s face darkens. “You ever try those?”

“I have a… a couple,” Steve says, voice gone low and rough, his eyes fastened now to Eddie’s mouth. “We didn’t use them together, though, they’re just mine.”

Oh, they’re going to revisit that. They are absolutely going to revisit that, but right now Eddie is on a mission. He won’t let himself be distracted.

He slides closer, practically on top of Steve now, one hand on his hip and the other spread warmly over his ribs.

“Never thought about a strap?” he asks.

Steve shrugs, not nearly as nonchalant as he’s pretending. “Thought about it, never quite got there.”

“Which way were you thinking? Would you have worn it? Or…” Eddie is going out on a limb here; just because Steve has a pussy doesn’t mean he likes the idea of penetration, but Eddie has a hunch. “Or would it have been the other way around?”

A sharp breath escapes Steve’s chest. “Do you want that?” he asks, soft, almost hopeful.

Eddie strokes a thumb across his ribs. “Want what?”

“To fuck me.”

This time it’s Eddie who goes breathless. “Is that even a fucking question?” he demands, and then, in case he wasn’t clear, adds, “I would want very much to do that, yeah. If you want me to.”

“I wasn’t sure if you would,” Steve says. “I mean, I know you’re strictly into guys, and I don’t exactly have… a conventional dick.”

“You’re not gonna let that one go, are you?” Eddie asks, eyeing Steve’s smirk.

“We’ll see,” Steve says, which likely means no.

“Fine. But Steve,” Eddie reaches up, cupping Steve’s face in his hands, “I am one hundred fucking percent into you. You are a guy. You are an incredibly hot guy whose pants I have been wanting to get into forever, no matter what you’ve got in there.”

Steve smiles, and Eddie caresses the corners of it with his thumbs.

“Well, you do seem to prefer the weirder shit, anyway,” Steve murmurs.

“Not weird. Different,” Eddie says, and Steve makes a face at him but readily allows him the kiss he presses in for after that.

“So have you…” Steve starts, once they’ve broken apart, “ever been with a guy with my, uh– sort of equipment?”

Eddie would make fun of how awkwardly the words had tumbled out if he hadn’t suddenly been feeling a bit awkward himself.

“Not, uh, exactly.” Steve raises an eyebrow at him and Eddie amends snappishly, “okay, fine, not at all, no.”

“But you’re open to it?” Steve checks, as if the way Eddie has pressed against him like a needy cat has left any room for doubt.

“More than open,” Eddie says. “I might just, y’know– need some direction? To start with?”

“Directions, huh?” Steve smirks. “I can work with that.”

Eddie has no doubt that he can – and that Eddie will enjoy every second of it.

[ineffable-suffering]

The Jane Austen Ball and why it was never about Nina and Maggie

Otherwise known as (*takes a deep breath*): A completely inflated close-up look at various dialogues and events of Season 2 that prove that the Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeeper's Association Meeting Cotillion Ball was supposed to be Aziraphale's confession to Crowley

Look, the point's been made before but that's never kept me from making it myself again, still. In fact, even I made it before, at the end of one of my other metas. But I feel like it's absolutely worthy enough to get its own soppy, way-too-long post. And I do love it so very much to write ridiculously long essays on something that could easily be condensed into a short paragraph.

So, here we go! Snuggle up, get cozy, settle in and, most importantly:

(Word count: 3.177 | Reading time: ~13 minutes)

As I already said above, I laid out a similar case in my meta about why Aziraphale is somewhat of an unreliable narrator. I'll try and recycle it here briefly, so I can further make my point.

When Aziraphale arrives back in London from his Edinburgh journey, he seems oddly happy and giddy for the fact that he just had a rather odd and threatening encounter with Shax. I explain in my other meta that this is because he just spent the last hours of his drive reminiscing on the thrilling and romantic magic show adventure of 1941 and also the fact that he just found out that Crowley has been replaced by Shax and no longer works for Hell.

Ergo: We have a hopelessly lovesick Principality at our hands, who's practically swooning over his serpent who saved him, his books and his magic show all those years ago.

Ergo:

✨This✨

Realistically, Aziraphale should probably be a tad worried about the eery encounter with Shax, in which she definitely had the upper hand on him. But well, if you spend many-a hours driving across the serene countryside (Edinburgh is about an 8-hour drive from London), pondering on one of the craziest, sticky-sweet romantic adventures of your not-life life, well ... things tend to turn a little rosy around the edges. Head in the clouds and all that. Light shades of grey!

Alright, onwards: Once the angel, filled to the very brim with fond memories and butterflies, gets out of the Bentley, he's kindly met with a face full of verdant plants and a very in-character-grumpy Crowley.

Fhwack! Way to burst the rosy bubble.

Seriously, the absolute lightning speed with which Crowley storms out to vacate the bookshop the very second Aziraphale arrives makes me giggle every time.

Let's make a first small (who am I kidding) diversion into analysing the following conversation in unnecessary detail ...

... simply because I enjoy quoting dialogue as an accurate reference in my metas. I'll also highlight certain passages I want to comment on in individual colours so I can back up my thoughts with them below. Alright, their little chinwag goes as follows:

Crowley: "They you are! I was worried something might have happened to you." Aziraphale: "No, nothing happened to me. Very uneventful journey indeed. No strange things at all." Crowley: "Good. That's what we wanna hear." Aziraphale: "Um .. everything okay with- ah.." *nods to the bookshop* Crowley: "Oh, yeah, fine. He's singing to himself. I think he must have been asleep. I heard snoring coming from his bedroom–" Crowley, to the Bentley: "Did you miss me? I bet you did." Aziraphale: "... I'm sure it did." Crowley: "So, any more clues from the mystery of the missing archangel?" Aziraphale: "Not exactly. Or, if there are, I haven't yet cracked the case. But I'm certainly hot on the trail of something." Crowley: "I'm sure you are. Oh, by the way, the whole sudden rain and awning thing was a complete washout." Aziraphale: "Sorry?" Crowley: "You know, project making Nina fall in love with Maggie. I failed, it's your go." Aziraphale: "I see. Well then, Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeeper's Association Monthly Meeting, here we come!" Crowley: "You're really hosting the meeting?" Aziraphale: "Absolutely! And I can guarantee you, it will be a night to remember."

At first glance, this has little to do with the plot of this meta but actually, it folds into my point very nicely! However, it's not time for that yet, so we'll just state the facts as they are for now and then bring them back 'round later when we need them. That being said: For the love of Someone, will these two ever manage to simply tell each other the truth of what happened instead of thinking they can protect each other by lying about it all the time? Hrmpf. As a big fan of open communication myself, I'm close to developing a stomach ulcer with the amount of false truths being spewed here. (Then again – and yes, that is another, way larger meta I'm currently cooking up – it plays so very perfectly into the whole Jane-Austen-Pride-and-Prejudice tragic miscommunication theme that this entire Season has, so I understand the point of it.)

Very uneventful journey indeed, Aziraphale, except for the fact that you were ambushed by a demon who told you she was Crowley's successor, knows about the rumors of the two of you being an item as well as what went down in 1941 (that almost had both of you exposed) and also seems to have figured out where you and your demon boyfriend are hiding Gabriel, all in the span of about a minute. No strange things at all, nooo!

And Crowley's "Oh yeah, fine" is a total lie too. Again, we see him make an absolute run for it before Aziraphale can even enter the bookshop. After all, he just once again witnessed Jim have a Gabriel-flashback, speaking of the Second Coming, while Crowley was alone with him. As fumingly angry he is with the amnesiac archangel – he's also absolutely terrified of what might happen (to him and Aziraphale) should Jim regain his memories. So, no wonder he's quick to vacate the premises after witnessing Jim's rather eery memory flashback (and was, just like Aziraphale, threatened by Shax mere moments later, lol).

But no, nothing out of the ordinary happened to either of them. Tip-top. Absolutely tickety-fucking-boo.

Alright, let's get back on track with the actual topic of this meta. Certainly hot on the trail of something, hm? At first glance, it might seem like Aziraphale is talking about the fact that Gabriel was in company of someone whenever he went to the Resurrectionist Pub. (The clue!) However, I don't actually think he is talking about that. Why? Because, and this slipped my mind too at first, he never actually follows any of this information up, does he? Yes, sure, he went to Edinburgh, found the capital-c Clue and then returned to London. But what does he do with it? Nothing. He doesn't keep investigating this hot trail because that's not the important thing he realized during his journey. No, the more important clue Aziraphale found during his trip, is that Crowley no longer works for Hell and that he is also very much irrevocably in love with him and must confess this at the earliest given chance. (The latter part isn't necessarily a new discovery for Aziraphale, but it surely is fuelled by the fact that he just realized Crowley's out of a Hellish job and simply hasn't told him yet.)

This exchange just the perfect indicator for the fact that Aziraphale, at no point during his drive back, was thinking about the Maggie and Nina mission. He has no idea what Crowley is talking about once he mentions it and seems surprised, even, that he would. Even though they just talked about it on the phone when Aziraphale was still at the graveyard. Which is another important piece of evidence because it means that the last status update Aziraphale got of Mission Lovebirds, was that Crowley had sensed an opportunity to make them fall in love – and had then hung up on him. Why is this important? Because it means that until that very point of their conversation, Aziraphale did not know that Crowley's attempt had failed! There would have been just as much of a chance of Crowley's weather miracle actually working out and Maggie and Nina already having skipped into the sunset happily ever after.

So, riddle me this:

Why would Aziraphale spend the entire ride back from Edinburgh plotting "a night to remember" (because clearly, he already had the entire Ball planned out down to a T in his head since he goes into action right away after arriving) if he didn't even know yet that Crowley's attempt had failed?

To be very clear here: We're not talking about Aziraphale driving on the M1 to London, having a silly little idea for putting on some good music, miracle-ing Nina and Maggie to dance to it and watch them confess their love–

No.

He planned an entire actual Cotillion Ball with very particular location design that involves re-arranging the entire bookshop, specifically designed individual outfits for (almost) every single attendee, topped off with a live band, hors-d'œuvre, drinks and an actual choreographed group dance.

During one car ride.

Where's the party planner Aziraphale AU? I'm waiting!

Now, sure, we know that it's still quite important for Aziraphale to convince Heaven of the faux-reason they gave for their accidental ✨25-Lazarii miracle✨. But if we're all honest, this all seems to be a tad much just to make two random humans fall in love, even for that.

Glittery ball gowns and suits? Red and gold wall curtains? A modified language filter? Bloody vol-au-vents?

Talk about over the top ...

Once we start S2E5, Crowley is still surprised at the mere fact that Aziraphale is actually planning to organize the Monthly Meeting – and he doesn't even know yet that it's gonna be the most extravagant ball-boogaloo that the Whickber Street Community has ever seen! Aziraphale wanting to organize the meeting alone, is enough to render Crowley incredulous, because Aziraphale never mingles with the other shopkeepers. He usually actively avoids them and any sort of social encounters as much as he can because he doesn't care about the bloody Christmas lights, alright?

These things seem mundane and uninteresting to him, obviously, since all he really cares about is hoarding his book collection in peace like the little hedonist he is and drawing as little attention as possible to his none-business business.

Oh, right, speaking of books:

Let's take another unnecessarily detailed look at the whole Whickber Street invitation scene:

Aziraphale realizes very quickly that he's not the only one who's quite unenthusiastic about the blessed Chritsmas lights. And despite his very persuasive methods of temptation ...

... he has to take some more drastic measurements. And those are?

That's right: Giving away his books.

I'll repeat it again, slowly: Aziraphale is willingly (!) giving away or lending his books to pretty much complete strangers to, allegedly, make two other humans strangers fall in love.

Seriously, who is that angel and what has he done with our prim, fussy, hedonistic Aziraphale that protects his books with the vice grip of an eagle carrying his precious prey?

Believe in the importance of Mission Lovebirds as much as you will, but we're talking about Mr. A.Z. Fell here who, over the past millennia, has pretty much spent every day actively working out methods to stop people from purchasing as much as a single paperback from his holy shelves.

And yet: the 1965 September Dr. Who Annual? Given away. The first edition of Expert at the Card Table that was S. W. Erdnase's personal copy? Lent away to grubby human hands to fondle around with.

Let's do another coloured dialogue diversion (don't worry, it's not as extensive as the last one):

Crowley: "You just did what I think you did?" Aziraphale: "I'm not prepared to talk about it." Crowley: "You gave away a book." Aziraphale: "I had to! Maggie and Nina are depending on me. They just don't know it yet."

Crowley backs up my point: This is a huge deal. Aziraphale does not sell his books – let alone give them away for free. We're all shocked! Flabbergasted!

And the explanation Crowley and us get just ... doesn't satisfy. Something and someone sure is depending on this Ball and doesn't know it yet. But it's most definitely not Maggie and Nina, folks.

You know for whom Aziraphale would give away his books in the blink of an eye, though?

Mhm, that's right.

This pretty old serpent.

I want to take a minute to show you the reaction again that Aziraphale has upon entering the very same magic shop him and Crowley went to in 1941 to acquire the Bullet Catch:

You ... you need a minute there, angel? You're sure looking a little ... affected.

And I mean, well, no wonder. He reminisced about that very memory four hours last night. To him, this shop is where the most turbulent, ecstatic, adrenaline-fuelled and romantic night of his life began. And it shows.

I've made my point in my other meta series about how Aziraphale is an incredibly nostalgic character. He romanticizes so many things in his memories – especially the parts that feature Crowley. So, it doesn't surprise me in the slightest that he's once again willing to loosen the tight grip he has on his book collection to get the successor of Will Goldstone's Magic Shop, the shop that started it all for him, to come to his fancy Ball.

As we watch Aziraphale and his little lap dog demon pat around Soho, I'd like to take another second to point out that he goes to seven or more establishments before he even invites Nina.

... and he only does so because she starts talking to them on the street. Almost like he'd forgotten about it. Why not ask her at the very beginning? To establish whether or not he'd have to book-blackmail her too?

"Perfectly ordinary invitation with no hidden agenda of any kind", except that he's using you and Maggie as a pretence to resolve his own clusterfuck of a relationship-miscommunication Jane-Austen-style so that he can then hopefully confess his undying love to his demon not-boyfriend boyfriend.

Marvellous!

You'll forgive me another short diversion but my God, the whole exchange at the Marguerite's restaurant with Crowley literally cat-call-whistling Aziraphale over to him (and Aziraphale checking if he meant someone else first, I–)? I am weak. So, so weak and

However, this is also when we get a snippet of Crowley finally revealing the truth in place of his "Oh, he's fine"-lie earlier and telling Aziraphale that he's actually pretty scared Jim might turn back into Gabriel and smite him altogether. And Aziraphale's response is, in a cosmic sense, (remember the pink paragraph now) so hilarious:

"Have you thought of just talking to him?"

Yeah, have you? Have any of the two of you? Just thought about talking? To each other? About anything?

'pparently not. But hey, it's all good because remember what the ultimate remedy for star-crossed lovers simply misunderstanding each other is?

Bish, bash, bosh, problem solved!

Back at the ballroom bookshop, Aziraphale sends Crowley to invite Maggie in order to, in my opinion, not spoil the Ball-y surprise for him. (Inviting Maggie only now?! Wouldn't she be one of the only two guests who really should attend? Why the short notice? If she's really that important for the Ball you're planning, hm?)

On top of this, we see Nina almost not attending the Ball meeting after her partner broke up with her and Crowley being the one who coincidentally runs into her and ushers her into the bookshop before Shax and her "legion" of demons start creeping up on them. Again, if this hadn't happened by pure coincidence, Nina would have left to go home and this whole Ball would have taken place without her, rendering the apparent sole purpose of making her fall in love with Maggie useless.

Why doesn't Aziraphale care more for both of them to attend and be there? Why is he instead busy fussing over everything looking perfect and wonderful and doesn't even seem to notice that both Nina and Maggie are really late to the meeting?

Well. Well.

The answer's in the title, babes.

Alas, Crowley safely gets Maggie and Nina to join them, Mr. Brown is the only one who doesn't get a miracled outfit (fussy, petty angel, you just don't like him, do you?), Jimbriel stuns with glamour and flirt (and whatever sexually suggestive thing he does with his cheeks) and the Whickber Street Ball is a-go!

Sorry, I just had to chuck this in again because Crowley's face here absolutely kills me every time. He looks so confused, I am hollering.

And the heart eyes Aziraphale is making at Nina and Maggie now that they're actually here?

Oh, bless it, angel.

He's all like "Oh look, it's working! Jane was right! It's all going to be resolved, all the misunderstanding and quarrels! Crowley, where's Crowley–"

Ah yes, there he is.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is an angel who is not listening to a single word being said right now. No, in his head, Aziraphale is already down on one knee, pouring his heart out to Crowley after they just danced the night away.

Oh, yes, right. The dancing.

Parallel much?

But well, as marvellous and beautifully romantic as her stories tend to be, it turns out that Jane Austen isn't always right after all. Because before we know it, the perfect night shatters into many-a tiny pieces (literally).

And once again, fhwack:

... the rosy bubble bursts.

Let's take one more deep breath so I can make my final point:

In S2E2, Aziraphale explains to us very exactly what Jane's Balls (hrhr) used to be about: Solving miscommunication and confessing love to one another.

During his car journey back from Edinburgh, Aziraphale:

doesn't know Crowley's Mission Lovebirds had failed

remembers 1941 and just how badly he's in love with Crowley

and also realizes that they seem to have been wildly miscommunicating for quite some time now. (Crowley didn't even tell him he basically got let go!)

So, what does maddeningly strong love plus a want to resolve all the miscommunication equal? That's right: A night to remember! A Ball to change it all! A dance, a vol-au-vent, a confession. And, ideally, a happy ever after. Because:

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man angel in possession of a good fortune Jane Austen collection, must be in want of a wife demon husband.”

The Ball was never for Nina and Maggie. As a byproduct, maybe, yes. But the whole rest of the glimmer and glamour, the careful, romantic planning and set up of it all, the book-bating the other shopkeepers– that was for Crowley and Crowley only.

And oh, if only it were as easy as in the books.

*whispers* I'm sorry, I had to.

***

Your honour, the tinfoil-hat crackpot defence rests. Feel free to share thoughts (and prayers) if you want to!

Au revoir! 💗

[haerni]

COULD’VE BEEN ──── 이희승 . the past is a blur, reality was harsher than it usually is. how deep does one could ever love a person?

. . genre : exes w lingering feelings · fem reader hurt comfort time motifs · word count : 1869 . notes . . im in love with heeseung lately </3

you love lee heeseung—you loved him, you did.

there was no denying it, he was an amazing boyfriend—perfect, even. your break up wasn't something you could call a bad ending, far from it. it was a mutual decision on both of you, it was something you both agreed on despite everything.

three years was all it took, three wonderful years of your life, three of it that you would come to treasure in the years to come. coming to terms of remaining as friends instead of strangers, your friends were even more bewildered. because really, who would still be friends with their ex? who would even want that?

“you still have feelings for him,” sunoo pointed out. “don’t deny it!” he shoots as quickly as you try to open your mouth with a quick retort with the high possibility of denying it, he surmised.

“i don’t have feelings for him, thank you very much.” you dismissed, getting back to what you were doing. “we’re really just friends now, acquaintances if you will.”

he narrows his eyes on you, not believing a word you say, but he lets it go with a puff shaking his head.

“you know what they say about exes staying friends. either you never loved each other at all, or you still have feelings—either way you’re not fooling me.” he says a matter of fact, helping himself in your fridge taking the mint chocolate.

you find your friend’s deduction to be ridiculous.

sometimes you catch yourself thinking of how he's doing. is he eating well? still staying up late until dawn because of his games? winning his league games? a small smile makes its way to your face at the same memories you share, somehow a bittersweet taste comes with it, yet it's still tucked away somewhere where your other moments lie, shaking your head away from it as quickly as it came. letting the thought simmer away to the backs of your mind.

lee heeseung was a fond memory you keep, but nonetheless he was just a memory still.

love was something you held for lee heeseung before, you don't really know what to call it now. maybe you wouldn't love someone for a long time as you have loved lee heeseung.

after all, what you knew as your greatest love was too great to be forgotten at all.

—

love was bound to find its way to you again, heeseung thinks.

you were like a force of nature that comes like you belong to everything, to every good little thing heeseung can ever name of. like everything was made to be the way it is just for you

—and somehow he also used to believe he was also made just for you.

that was before the fallout. now he believes that maybe after pining over you for many years and being your friend just the same, maybe this was where he should've always been. not to hold you like lovers do, not to kiss you as much as a friendship does not require, and definitely not to have you in any way that would be deemed more than what relationship you had returned to.

just friends. nothing more, nothing less.

it's useless, though. the glass in his hands is cold. misery was rather more of a warm company to heeseung, too familiar even. the lights at the bar were dimmed down adding more somber to the mood, and it is like the universe is playing some sort of twisted tricks on him. just to remind how hollow it is, how the world was actually big, it's too cold—it's lonely.

everything was becoming too much and not enough all the same.

drinking was never a good idea, it never was for heeseung. you'd always tell him that he gets so lost in it that he forgets just how many he downs and it leaves him away into the night with a smile and fits of giggles that are contagious and slurred words that he always tries to utter.

it's stupid, he was stupid.

but atleast he had you then, the one who would take care of him if he has one of too many or maybe crawl up into his lap when he's gaming away into the night and you'd just do it because you'd rather have his warmth near you than settle with the thought of having him in the same room. or times when you would just run up to him and like it's engraved in his veins to have you in his arms and hold you like forever was never enough of a time to describe how much he wants you. forever was too less of a time, a life with you would be more and to those other lives he will get to have you seems more promising.

forever is too much of a word for lee heeseung. if your lives were to part, may he always find you in the next and the comings. for him to never take another heart that does not belong to you. may lee heeseung love you to every time, to be born in the same universe as you, the same time, the same place.

three lifetimes, three wonderful lives you both had, and he thinks it is simply not enough.

he begs the heavens to let him be made just for you once more. because forever in one, will never be something to call what you have.

eternity suits you better, he thinks.

—

the night strolls, the stars are twinkling with the hopes of catching an eye.

this night feels a little more dreadful than the last. the drink he had down a few minutes ago keeps him warm in the night, setting itself in his stomach. heeseung has spent away the after hours this way, a routine that has eaten him alive to its core. it's not an ideal lifestyle, but he continues anyway.

he strolls without a place in mind, after all he has lost home once and wherever you are, his heart resides.

you are everything that heeseung has prayed for.

as familiar buildings meet his eyes and it brings back some memories he had kept away. treacherous. suddenly he finds himself in your street, a few blocks away from where you are. he can knock, he can ask you, he can stay, but he was a stranger altogether. so, the best thing heeseung takes rather than doing all of those things? was to sober up and leave.

mortality has never been kind to him. and everything he has kept in his heart was torn from its home and never to be returned like the sands that slithers away from the storm.

and he had begged at everything that would hear him. because the sand had gone out of the hourglass too soon than what he had always hoped for. time has never been his friend, after all, what time would be fond of something going against it? fate was too cruel to you. but you had embraced it just the same.

how could he ever subject you to the same fate once more? a string tied to you or not, he would rather see you with the colors of life.

and as if this time—for once, mercy has taken pity on him. because as his heel turns he hears the front door of your home, and he shouldn't look, he shouldn't stop, he should go. but you're just still you, right? the always loveable you.

“heeseung?”

oh how he has missed your voice.

against his very judgement he turns around.

there you are by the porch of your home wrapped in a blanket protecting you from the chills of the night and you seem comfortable, you always are. he stops just as his mind tells him the opposite (how could lee heeseung ever say no to your very being?).

and he couldn't stop—heeseung has loved you for a very long time and it feels like it's the only language he can speak to answer your call.

you descend down on your stairs, with a small shy walk on your feet towards him. he feels dizzy, have you always been this pretty?

he tries to say something, anything, but you seem to knock the air out of his chest every time, he releases a breath he's been holding, “hey.”

if you knew better you think heeseung seemed to be full of life when he is with you, like a flower who basks in the sun. you don't know what to say to him, is there any words to describe whatever you were feeling? he knew everything about you, he read you like a diary he has memorized all his life, when words fail you, heeseung comes to answer it.

you couldn't really remember now why you broke up, too many talks, too many faults, too many problems that pile up as time wanes. but you missed him, you miss him too much now to remember why.

“it’s cold,” he begins. its obvious, but what could he possibly tell you?

it's weird now, his eyes are still the same and yet you find yourself wanting it just the same, “yeah, it is.”

silence passes you, it's not uncomfortable, it's not heavy—you're relieved.

“i should probably go.” he should, but is it a sin to say you want him to stay? you pursed your lips in contempt, you should say something.

heeseung may claim to be someone who keeps his words, but right now his feet feel heavy, like his anchored to where he stands—in front of you. he waits for you to utter anything to him, a small hope of you stopping him. to make it feel it was okay to want you like this, to be in your presence.

the silence beckoned you to speak before you can even think of it. “it’s already late..” it's embarrassing, almost as if you were too left open in his eyes again, “..you can stay, if you'd like.”

a second clock and a pin drop, heeseung adorned a soft smile on his lips and as if he was on the same wavelength as you he utters words he thought he couldn't ever tell you, “i missed you.”

“i know,” and it's not obnoxious, it's a truth that you know well, its a fact that you know deep in your bones, “i missed you too.”

and everything was happening in the blink of an eye, his arms are around you and he breathes your scent in. despite the blanket around you, his warmth burns more and you love it—some things just never change.

lee heeseung will never meet what could’ve been, would’ve been, what should’ve been you in that lifeline. your first life together would always be a mystery to the both of you. he misses you, more than he remembers.

he hopes he doesn't lose you again.

“i’ve got a lot to pine about. i’ve got a lot to live without. so rest well, hm? we’ll see each other again.”

—excerpt from (1500’s), A Hundred Years And A Lifetime, letters of Evan Lee to his wife by a Nameless Laureate poet.

[satorusugurugurl]

Hi, congrats on 2k followers! Can you do the margaritas prompt with Nanami for your event?

Spicy Margarita!

Summary: Marie’s Summer Fest prompt: margaritas

Pairing: Nanami Kento x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, buzzed sex, both parties are consenting, unprotected, sex, couch, sex, rough sex

Word Count: 1,776

A/N: thank you Nonnie!! A few of my mutuals know that I have a weakness for spicy margaritas or margaritas in general! I have been known to order commissions from time to time after consuming many margaritas on Friday nights! So this one came naturally to me!

One of the many things you loved about your husband was the fact that he was a foodie. Both of you enjoyed going out and having dinner, trying new restaurants, foods, and drinks. Especially when you were together on the weekends. While eating at a new Mexican restaurant one weekend, you found your favorite alcoholic beverage—a spicy mango margarita with Chamoy and tajin sugar-salt rim.

The drink was the perfect combination of salty, spicy, and sweet. If you could dive into the sweet, fruity frozen cocktail and swim in it, you would. It was your all-time favorite in the entire world.

It was until the restaurant shut down because the owner moved back to Mexico. That was truly a sad day when you and Nana saw the building was empty on a Saturday night. You cried over losing your favorite fruity cocktail but tried to find the next best one you could. Your journey was very disappointing because every restaurant you ate at didn't come close to making a tasty margarita. The drinks you had tasted were either too expensive or were just mediocre. Eventually, your poor heart couldn’t take the mourning any longer of trying to find the next best margarita out there. So you found yourself opting for the next best thing: Korean plum wine.

Soon, the memory of that tasty margarita would become nothing more than a memory. A fond one that was full of laughter and smiles. Until you came home from work on a hot summer day, only to be greeted by the sound of a blender entering the kitchen instead of your husband's soothing voice. Following the sound, you sauntered into the kitchen, freezing in your tracks as you stared at the blender's bright orange, frozen concoction. Your husband was rimming a glass and sticky red mix before rubbing it on a plate full of sugar.

“Ken?” upon hearing your voice, your husband turned to smile, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Welcome home, Love.” you watched as Nanami poured the contents of the blender into one of the rimmed glasses. “Here you go. Thank you for your hard work this week.”

Your mouth began to water as you brought the glass up to your mouth. After taking a long sip, the second spicy liquid hit your tongue. Your eyes snapped wide open. Your Margarita! Your sweet husband somehow managed to make your favorite drink. The sound of your happy moans leaving your mouth was music to your husband‘s ears.

“Kento! This is delicious!” you took another sip, eyes rolling back into your skull at the sweetness that envelops your taste buds. “How did you even manage to make it this perfect?”

“Trial and error.” emotions to a few other glasses on the counter. “I made these on the rocks to taste test until I perfected it. I blended it all once I knew I had the right measurements of everything.”

Along the counter were six glasses half full of orange liquid. You placed your frozen margarita down before trying one of the other drinks. The ice clinked in the glass as you brought your mouth tasting it. It was just as good as the frozen one he had handed you! You could tell there was something different about it; though this one had less spicy tequila, but it was still mouth-watering good!

“Mmm, it's so good, Ken!” Nanami took one of the five remaining cups and downed its liquids, humming at the delicious taste with less mango puree.

“Yes, you’re right, it is good.”

Not wanting to waste a single drop of the tasty drinks, you and your husband downed his six experiments before taking on the pitcher next. It was safe to say both of you were pretty buzzed when the last drops of the margarita were gone. And as the liquid seemed to warm your blood, you had an undying need to have your husband inside of you.

The thing about tequila was that it never left you feeling hungover, but it made you insanely horny.

So it was no surprise to your husband when you pulled your clothes off. The tequila left a certain glowly hue around your husband, fueling your hungry desire. Nanami was feeling the same. A warm, tingly sensation ran down his back as he leaned back against the couch, watching your eyes play with lust as you began hugging his sweats down. His hand gently reached around the back of your head, stroking your hair softly as you straddled his hips.

“I want you.”

“You do?”

“Mhmm~!”

Your tequila-laced breath moved in with his own, the smell of alcohol flooding your senses as Nanami gently gripped your hips with both his hands.

“Good, I need you too.” Nanami’s lips pressed against yours as he began bucking his hips up against you, needing to do nothing more than bury himself inside of you.

Which was how you found yourself in your current position, pressed into the couch cushions as you are back into you from behind. You cried out whimpers, leaving your mouth as the pillows muffled some of your sounds while you rocked shamelessly back against your husband’s cock. Nanami grunted, tilting his head back as he lost himself in the way that your pussy squeezed him.

His hand slapped firmly against your ass, massaging it roughly. “Fuck you're so damn tight!” he gripped the fat of your ass, forcing you to fuck yourself back against him harder.

“K-Ke—Kento!” you breathlessly whimpered, looking back over your shoulder at the crazed look in his eyes as he focused on the site of his dick disappearing inside of you. With your ass against him, his cock began to shimmer with your wet sticky arousal. “Nngh!”

He slammed the head of his cock firmly against your cervix, making your eyes roll back as your head fell forward, face buried in the cushions. Your sweet moans were muffled until Nanami wrapped his hand around your hair as if you were his tie and lifted your head out of the cushions. Those sweet little cries that left your mouth filled the living room, bouncing off the walls from how loud you were.

“Don’t you even think about holding back those sounds. I want to hear you.” He tugged your hair tighter, lifting your head higher. From the grip he had on your head, your back arched deeper, sticking your ass up higher, forcing his cock deeper inside of you. “Nngh fuck—mmph— yes, that’s my good girl taking my cock like a good little slut.”

“Haaah! Ah~ ah~ fuck! Fuuuck Kento!”

The couch creaked under your weight as Nanani began thrusting harder into you, slamming his hips so hard against your own that your ass rippled under the force. You were filled to the ultimate brim, his tip kissing your cervix, pressing deeper into you. You could feel him in your womb, leaving you crying, tears streaming down your cheeks from the oversensitivity as pure white hot pleasure rushing through your veins.

“Mmm~ that’s right, that’s my good little slut, crying over how good she feels.” Nanami kissed your shoulder blades before forcing your head back into a throw pillow. “Now be a good little cum slut, and squirt all over my cock.”

The slow lazy thrusts were completely halted as Nanami pulled all the way out, his tip catching on the ring of your tight entrance before he set a brutal fucking pace. He slammed into you and made you cry into the pillow, tears staining it, proof of how good and sensitive you felt things, thanks to the alcohol in your system.

But it wasn’t just the tequila that made you feel like this. It was the unfiltered love that you had for the man who was making you feel so good. He went above and beyond, making your favorite drink. Something that you had pretty much given up on our tasting again. But your husband had done the impossible. He had spent time, effort, and resources concocting that perfect drink to make you happy.

So, of course, you were crying tears of joy as Nanami fucked you so good. Consistently proving that he was the man you wanted to spend your entire life with. It only took three of that deep hard thrust, where his head rubbed and brushed against your g-spot perfectly before ramming into your cervix with a force that left you reeling as you came hard, squirting all over his cock all over the sofa, making a mess.

Your husband didn’t take long to follow you over the edge, hands gripping your hips and his large hands holding steady as he filled your cunt with his seed. The sensation of the spurts of hot white sticky cum filling you made you moan in pure pleasure as you let out muffled cries of your husband’s name into the pillow beneath you. Once Nanami’s cock stopped throbbing. He gently pulled it out of you, helping you sit back against him as his cum began leaking out of your pussy.

His lips gently pressed against your cheek as he ran his hand back over your head, pushing your hair out of your face. You turned slightly towards him, pressing your lips against his, and just as he began to smile at you, you started rocking your hips slowly against him, his face twisting up with pleasure and fear as you moved so fast he barely saw you. One second he was sitting up, holding you in his arms, and the next, he was forced down on the couch while you straddled his hips, hovering over his cock, while your combined cum drilled all over his crotch.

At that moment when he swears he could see a hearts in your pupils. He suddenly remembers the second reason behind your undying love of those spicy margaritas. Not only did it make you horny, but it fueled your already high sex drive. Swallowing hard Nanami watched as you lined his cock up with your pussy. He was in for a very long night. Not that he was complaining about it.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3

Summer Fest Tag List:

@typicalife-101

[fatuismooches]

fabulam diu oblitus - postlude.

synopsis: The tale of the raven and the sparrow has long been forgotten by most, but some will always remember.

includes: dottore w/ gn! reader

notes: This is the fourth part of this fic, please read the other parts first! It seems that the fairy tale of you and Dottore comes to an end. Follows some of Sumeru's storyline. Warning for death. Angst. Thank you to my mootie @kaixserzz and my all of my dear anons (🎐, 🐓 <3) who kept me inspired to keep writing this fic :3

prelude. first interlude. second interlude. postlude. sequel.

“The raven and butterfly’s happiness continued for much longer. But of course, every creature is aware that nothing lasts forever, and even the lightning in the sky would agree with that statement. All fairytales must come to an end. That was no different for the raven and the butterfly.”

There had been a buzz around the lab lately. Some of the segments had been ordered to leave for a Fatui mission. Which, would have been a normal occurrence, were it not for the place they were headed to this time.

“Sumeru? You’re going to Sumeru?” Your home country had instantly gotten your attention, not only because you haven’t been back in centuries, but also because the segments were never usually dispatched there, instead causing their usual chaos in other nations.

“Indeed. We will see if the Balladeer is able to become the God he so desires to be,” Omega hummed, moving a hand underneath your shirt to record your heartbeat. Ah, that was right. The puppet had stolen the Electro Gnosis to use as his ascension into godhood… and Dottore would be there to see how his experiment plays out. Well, you already had a feeling about how that would turn out. 

Moving on to a different subject, although Sumeru was the home you and Zandik were chased out of, you still held fond memories of it. Many happy things happened there for you, so the thought of it made you smile.

“You have to bring back lots of stories for me! And souvenirs! Oh, I would love to see how much Sumeru has changed from all those years ago,” you dreamily smiled. Yeah, your favorite cafe was probably gone by now… but you’d love to see what replaced it!

“Of course. I expect there will be much to say with the God of Wisdom and the Traveler intervening as well,” Omega chuckled, scribbling down something on his clipboard after glancing at the monitor, before fixing your shirt back.

“Your vitals have been better lately,” the segment commented and patted your head, which you happily indulged in. It wasn’t too noticeable, but it seemed like your body was getting even a little bit better. Not much, a little. But that was good anyway. “But run along now. There is much preparation to be done regarding the trip to Sumeru.”

“Okayyyy,” you stretched your words a bit disappointedly, not wanting to leave the segment, but you knew he had a lot of work to do. So instead you settled with pecking him on the cheek which he of course returned tenfold before you went off on your way. You had quite a few segments to say goodbye to, after all! You’d miss them a lot, but, you still had the other segments here with you. And your lover of course.

Surely, they would be back in the blink of an eye. Yes, surely, they’d return just as they always did. You had no reason to think otherwise. And so for the next few days, everything was normal. Time passed regularly. You got through the days as you did with any other.

But one day was different.

You were in your room by yourself, enjoying your alone time. Because as much as you loved being around the segments, you still liked being by yourself too. But all of a sudden, your tranquility was interrupted by literally a bang on your door, which made you jump.

The knock on your door was frantic and loud. Immediately you hopped out of bed to see what could possibly be so important that your door was getting pounded, but when you opened the door there was no one there. You were very confused… how was that possible? This was a pretty long hallway. Even with the segments’ abilities, there was no way they could just disappear into thin air like that. 

A bad feeling began to creep up on you, your stomach twisting and turning. You don’t know why, but it just did. But surely you were overreacting. Perhaps… perhaps… actually, you didn’t have any valid reasoning you could think of right now. Maybe though, maybe you should go and check on them. Just in case. You know that they’ll be there, in the lab doing their experiments or perhaps bickering with each other as usual, but there was nothing wrong with double-checking. And then you’ll calm yourself with a nice hug from one of them. It would all be okay. 

But you found that your steps were quicker and longer than usual, your breathing heavier than usual. As you got closer to the main lab’s doors, you strained your ears for their voices, anything, something, but heard nothing. You licked and bit your lip that had gone dry, weak legs walking even faster if that was possible, before you swung open the doors, hoping to see those blue mops of hair you so desired to see.

Nothing. The room was empty.

Your footsteps slowed, walking into the room cautiously. It was strange because it looked as if there were people in here just a few minutes ago. Notes that were left unfinished halfway. Beakers that had broken on the floor, with some mysterious liquids soaking the floor. Strange, very strange. And yet no trace of any segments remained.

The bad feeling had grown into something much worse now. Where else? Where else could they be? 

Their rooms. You should check their rooms. They were usually there if they weren’t in the lab, doing their own respective work (because their office and rooms doubled as one since they didn’t need to sleep.) So despite how your chest burned, and your legs ached, it didn’t matter if it meant your heart would be soothed and relieved.

You ran as fast as you could, more like you tried to because your illness had really kicked in since your mind was stressing out a great amount. As you clung to the walls, catching your breath, you paid no mind to the random agents who were looking at you funny, nor did you manage to catch their words of “Omega” or “erased” or “gone.”

It took longer than it should have taken you, but at last, you made it to the corridor with the segments’ rooms. You didn’t bother to knock, swinging open the door to Alpha’s room.

Empty.

Beta’s room.

Empty.

Every single room was empty. Fuck, even Zandy’s room was empty. And he was always in there if he wasn’t with you. Your head was throbbing with unease now, your heavy, troubled breathing sounding throughout the whole hallway. Where? Where? Where did they go…?!

“[Name].” A voice sounded from behind you. Spinning around, it was Dottore. Your Dottore! Okay, at least he was still here!

“Dottore,” you breathed a sigh of relief. He would have an explanation for this. “Dottore, where are all the segments? I-I can’t find them anywhere. I mean, I know the lab is really big, but it’s strange for them not to be in these areas,” you placed a hand on your rapidly beating heart, trying to calm it, not noticing your husband’s expression.

“...” The scientist was unsure of how to break the news to you because he knew of the bond you shared with the segments.

“Dottore? Why aren’t you answering me?” He opened his mouth to respond, but paused, seemingly trying to determine the best way to phrase his words. That only worried you more, because he was never one to sugarcoat his words. Your nervousness had returned once more, burning heat from fear creeping up your shoulders. “Zandik, answer me.”

“They’re gone, [Name].” The words took a few moments to settle in, silence overtaking the area for a little bit. But only for a little bit, as your nervous laughter rang out interrupting it.

“Gone?” You repeated. “What do you mean gone? They just can’t be gone. Right? Right, Dottore?” The nervous smile that had etched its way onto your face hurt badly, the laughter mixed with wheezing was painful, but it was all you could do to convince yourself this was a lie.

“Omega has… deleted them in exchange for the Electro Gnosis.” You looked at him blankly, the former emotion on your face gone.

“Deleted? Deleted from this world? From existence?” Your tone got higher and higher as you continued speaking. You didn’t even know Omega had the ability to do that. Or that the segments could be erased in the first place. Dottore just nodded in response. 

“But- but why? Surely t-there was another way?” Your voice was on the verge of breaking into tears.

“He wanted to show respect to the God of-”

“Respect? To a God, of all people?” You hissed, bubbles of anger surfacing now through your agony. “He’s a Harbinger, is he not? And he’s stronger than that God! He- he could have easily found another way! He didn’t have to DELETE the segments! Another method HAD to have been possible! Did he even try to negotiate?!” Hot tears ran down your cheeks as you raised your voice at him. It took everything it had in you not to fully scream. You began to pace back and forth, hand covering your already tear-streaked face, whole body shaking. Your husband could only watch.

Dottore wasn’t thrilled with Omega deleting all his segments either, with the endless resources that went into creating them, but what’s done was done. And both the Electro and Dendro Gnoses were acquired. But you? You were on the verge of hysterics. He had never, not once, seen you like this. 

You had come to a stop, head buried into your arm as you braced against the wall. Oh, the segments were gone forever. They were never coming back. You could only imagine how they must have been in their last moments. That they only had a few more moments to live. You couldn’t bring yourself to think about what Zandy must have thought in his last few seconds.

And what’s more, the segments had disappeared into… nothingness. There was no trace, no remains of their bodies whatsoever. And although seeing their bodies on the floor would have certainly destroyed you, perhaps this was even a worse fate. Because it was as if they never existed at all. You couldn’t even hold their bodies one last time, or give them a proper farewell. They were just… gone. Oh, how you wished you could have at least been there in their last moments, to provide some comfort, some love, some sense of peace. The more you thought about it, the countless memories with them flowing through your mind, the weaker your violently shaking body became as you struggled to hold yourself up. Dottore instantly noticed and, worrying about your frail condition, walked up to you before you spat out at him.

“Do not come near me.” Out of all the centuries Zandik has spent with you, he has never been on the receiving end of much anger from you. Rather, it was you who dealt with that from him. But this wasn’t just anger. It felt like venom.

“Why…” You pulled yourself up once again before glaring at him with teary eyes. “Why didn’t you stop him, Zandik? You could have, couldn’t you? They didn’t have to die…!”

There was only one answer the Harbinger could provide, even though he knew you would not like it. “It was necessary to obtain the Electro and Dendro Gnoses for the Fatui.” To this, you could only laugh again once more before digging your nails into your palms so hard it hurt.

“I see. I see…” You mumbled brokenly before stepping off to the side, your steps still unsteady and wobbly as you nearly tripped. Dottore once again tensed up, body wanting to move to support you, but the look on your face made him decide against it. You then walked past him, not sparing another look at him before exiting the corridor, tears still silently running down your face. He could only watch you as you left him standing, wondering about many things yet nothing at all.

—

“From that day, there was a drastic shift in the butterfly and raven’s relationship. The butterfly was indescribably hurt by the loss of the other ravens, and could not bear the pain. It was the first time the raven had ever been subjected to such cold treatment by his lover. Usually, it was the other way around. And it seemed like fixing this would not be easy.”

Dottore thought that if he gave you some space, you’d cool off soon enough.

He thought wrong.

You had flat-out been ignoring Dottore since the day the segments were erased. And not just refusing to talk to him. You didn’t even want to be in the same space as him. If he came into your room, you would just leave. As soon as he opened his mouth, you were gone. In order to give you your meds, he had to wait until you were sleeping to slip in, because of the way you were acting. When it was time to eat, he had to leave the meal outside your door, otherwise, you wouldn’t eat. That is if you even took it. The grief made it hard for you to do a lot of things, which made it imperative for him to help, but you didn’t want it. You were distraught, but you were angry too. Why? 

Because you truly loved the segments.

Dottore did not. He did not feel the same connection as you did. So he was at a loss. He didn’t know what to do to resolve this. Apologize? No, he suspected even if he did, it wouldn’t mean anything, because you’d know he didn’t fully mean it, and it wouldn’t bring the segments back anyway. Comfort you? You wouldn’t allow him to hold you or talk to you. Il Dottore did not know what should be done.

Omega received similar treatment when finally returned from Sumeru, the Gnoses in hand. Normally, you would be waiting at the entrance whenever he returned from expeditions. This time, however, you were not, which he supposed he should have expected. You didn’t want his stories. His gifts. No, all you needed to know was that he deleted the segments. They were gone because of him, and you didn’t want to see him right now.

Omega was not a human. He was a segment. Though, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t feel emotions. He did - when it came to you. But Omega was a selfish segment. Selfish when it came to a lot of things, you included. And selfishness and emotions do not bode very well, as it becomes… a convoluted mixture.

The segment thinks of himself as a patient man. He knows how to wait, and wait, and wait until it pays off. He can do that for you, too. Wait for you to come back to your senses. After all, they were just segments, right? And the superior one, the best one of them all was still here - him. So surely you won’t be like this for too long.

Just like his creator, he was proven wrong. He learned the depth of your anger a day he tried reaching out to you, wanting to put this whole situation behind. But you certainly didn’t share the same sentiment. It was like any other day, him talking to you and you walking away, but this time he reached out for you. The segment unconsciously longed for your touch, your affection, that was once so commonplace.

But as soon as you felt his fingers brush yours, you slapped Omega’s hand away with a scowl. You didn’t need to say anything. That one action spoke everything you wanted to.

You would never view him the same ever again.

—

“And so the butterfly found themselves drowning and suffocating in grief. Their whole life had been changed, the creatures who helped them through so much were now gone. But that would not be the last of the butterfly’s sorrow.”

You had been giving the cold shoulder to Zandik and Omega for a long time. Considering how clingy and affectionate you were before, they didn’t even know you had it in you. But now, it was as different as night and day. However, it wasn’t as much as it was before, because you still had to rely on them in order to live. Despite how much you didn’t want to, without them, you’d be dead. They were the ones who had to administer your medicine and give you check-ups so your condition wouldn’t get worse (although it already happened after the segments were deleted.) It was funny how easily progress could be reversed. How one thing, one random day, could change everything.

So eventually you had to let them in a bit. Most of the time you just ignored them and rarely spoke. Even during the checkups and shots, you had your head turned the other way the whole time. They would still attempt to talk to you, in hopes you would even grace them with a “yes” or “no” rather than the rare nod of your head. But it wasn’t very fruitful. 

Another habit of yours now was that if you weren’t in your room, you were most likely in a segment’s room crying. Especially Zandy’s. Clutching his plushies. Or maybe Alpha’s. Trying to fix up the parts he left lying on his desk. Or Beta’s. Going into his closet to wear his coat. Dottore knew better than to clean out their rooms because you would most likely snap at him again.

You didn’t have much energy to do anything else but lay in your room, blankly staring at the ceiling all day, your head a foggy, grief-filled mess. It did not feel good… you hated the feeling… but what else should you do…? You just wished you could feel the warmth of your segments… the seemingly annoyed but secretly delighted posture of Alpha as you held him from behind. The bitey nature of Beta that didn’t let you go once you were in his clutches. The small, clingy body of Zandy as he cuddled into your body, sweet dreams blessing him instead of the nightmares. But you could only dream about those things now.

Even the regular Fatui agents had noticed this development. The lovey-dovey nature of Il Dottore’s spouse was now reduced to this. You heard them speak about it.

“Have you noticed? Lord Dottore has been far more irritable lately.”

“Oh yeah, both Omega and Prime! I feel bad for those who have to work directly with them…. At least my job is just standing at this door all day.”

“I know. They always were terrifying, but it seems even worse now. Ugh, and now there’s even more work for us since all the segments are gone.”

“Do you know why? Has Lord Pantalone decreased his budget again?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of obvious…” The agent lowered his voice to a whisper. “His spouse, [Name], has been giving them the silent treatment for ages now. Don’t tell anyone this but, I believe that our great Harbinger, Lord Il Dottore… is feeling the effects of this. I’ve never seen them act like this!”

“Is that so? Speaking of, I don’t think I’ve seen them around here very much.”

“Well yes… if you were here for as long as I have been, you’d normally see them all over the lab but, they tend to stay locked up in their room nowadays. And Lord Dottore as well, he doesn’t leave his office much either. Omega seems to take care of much of the outward responsibilities.”

So that was what it was like. You got your answer to if Dottore missed you. You wondered how many people accidentally became his test subjects due to his rising temper because of you. But though it may not have looked like it, not speaking to your husband was hurting you tremendously as well. Because at the end of the day… he was your love, your life. He was your Zandik, the one who meant everything to you. The one who went through everything and anything with you. He was the only one you had… you still loved him, terribly so. Maybe that was a bigger weakness than your illness.

But that didn’t mean you were any less mad at him.

Omega, on the other hand… ah, you didn’t even know what to think anymore… you were so conflicted, it was so hard to even think… when you said you loved all the segments, that included him too. But he deleted all of them… you hated him… but did you love him too? No, you should continue to hate him, he was the selfish one… Zandy was gone because of him… you couldn’t forgive him! So you didn’t forgive him. The days continued the same as always. 

Until one fateful day.

Omega was set to head out on a mission. Which was quite unusual nowadays, because ever since the clones were deleted, he couldn’t afford to leave Snezhnaya with all the work that had to be done. All you had heard was that the blonde-haired traveler would be there too, from all the whispering around the lab.

But what did it matter to you? Whether the segment was here or not, it was the same to you. His whereabouts were surely not of concern to you, so you had no feelings on this. Though the night before he was set to leave, he knocked on your door anyway. You immediately pulled the blankets over your face and curled to the side of the bed so you wouldn’t see Omega. The door shut with a click and his boots sounded against the floor.

“Hello, [Name]. I’m sure you’ve heard by now that I am leaving soon. It is another critical mission for the Fatui, and I suspect the Traveler will be there once again.” He didn’t receive a response from you, which he expected. “But I’m sure this is of no interest to you, anyway.” He guessed right, you thought, you didn’t care. However, even after saying what he had to say, he did not leave. A silence overtook the room as neither of you moved or spoke. But then Omega called your name, with another short silence coming after it before he spoke once more.

“I will not ask for your forgiveness, because I know I will not receive it, nor will I apologize, because I believe I took the right course of action. But…” Omega paused, “I still hold you fondly. I still…” He reached his hand out to your covered body but drew it back before his fingertips could brush you.

“I hope we will be able to talk more once I return.” He seemed to wait a few more seconds, perhaps hoping you would stay something, hoping he could at least see your face before he left, but to no avail. All you heard was the retreating footsteps and the click of your door shutting once more. You pulled the blankets off so you could breathe properly again, as you thought about his words.

What should you do? You didn’t know. The segments had passed quite a while ago, and the pain was still fresh in your heart, but Omega… ugh… perhaps, maybe, just maybe, you could try talking to him once more. Only an attempt. If you didn’t like how it felt, you’d stop. And he wasn’t returning from the mission for a few months, so you had ample time to make your decision anyway.

But Omega never returned.

The next few months flew by quickly, and though Omega had not returned yet, you thought nothing of it. Something must have come up that delayed his return. It’s happened before, it probably happened again. That was until you noticed groups of Fatui huddled together murmuring in the lab. As soon as they saw you, they went back to work and shut up their little gossip quickly, which was very strange. Now you really needed to know what was going on, so you decided to silently eavesdrop on the next pair you found. But you would have never thought of the words you heard next.

Omega had been killed by the Traveler. 

Omega was dead.

Omega wasn’t coming back.

You would never see him ever again. The realization made your body weak as you stumbled back, having to cling to the wall for support. He was gone… the tears immediately sprang to your eyes, as you covered your mouth to keep your sobs down. Omega killed the other segments. Maybe a part of you should feel glad. But no, all you felt was red-hot grief and pain, as you crashed into the nearest random room, and cried, and cried, and cried.

If you knew that was the last time you would see him, you wouldn’t have acted like that…

You wonder why things had to turn out like this.

—

“The butterfly never truly recovered from their loss, but as they say, time heals all wounds.”

After Omega died, you didn’t have the energy to be mad anymore. You were just tired. Tired of everything. Everything felt like a chore. Though you saw your husband more often now. Since there were no more segments, and Dottore obviously wouldn’t trust even the best Fatui doctors with you, he was the one who did all the usual medical stuff for you now.

Admittedly, his touch felt nice. It felt good. It felt like exactly what you needed right now. Comfort. So you gave in. When he had finished the usual procedure, as he turned his back on you, you reached out and wouldn’t let go of his hand. Dottore stiffened from the contact - it had been a while since you’d touched him so intimately - but you didn’t let go, and only weakly tugged him closer, which he complied to. You couldn’t bring your eyes to meet his, instead blankly staring at his shoes, but he seemed to get the message anyway. Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around you to gauge your reaction, and when he saw no resistance, he pulled you into his chest and held you. You missed this feeling. You missed Zandik.

And maybe you were scared he would leave you too.

Things continued like that for a while. You’d seek your husband out for his touch. His presence. His voice. Anything that would bring you some peace. Though you still remained mostly silent during these times. You just didn’t know what to say. Sometimes you wondered if he was mad at you. Annoyed. Disappointed. You didn’t want to know though. You were content with the fact that Zandik would hold you in his lap even at the wildest hours of the night.

But now, it had been some time since Omega’s death and even longer since the other segments were erased.

You weren’t quite ready to move on, no, not yet, but it was inevitable. Or perhaps you would never truly move on, instead, they would always be a part of you. You’d always carry them with you. But regardless, you needed to try, at least for Zandy. You think he’d want you to try and smile more often. You were speaking a bit more to your Harbinger friends again, and finding some enjoyment in your hobbies. Not to mention your relationship with Zandik was becoming better again. He had still been there, even when your illness and grief had you at your worst, with no complaints. Even though he had nothing to gain from this relationship. Even though you had become someone different. He had always loved you.

But there was still a rift caused by everything that had happened, that you wanted to fix. Because at the end of the day, in this world, you two only had each other. So you decided to talk to him about it. You had a habit of this, just waltzing into his office without knocking, and came upon Dottore who had a small box in his hand, appearing to gaze at whatever was in it, before he quickly snapped it shut at your sudden arrival. You recognized that box. It was the one where he kept his wedding ring in. So he still had it like that after all these years. You pretended like you didn’t see it as he swiftly put it away.

“[Name].”

“Zandik. Are you busy right now?”

“No.” Both of you knew that was a lie. The Second Harbinger was always busy. You knew for a fact he was stretched thin, especially since he wasted so much time taking care of you along with his Fatui duties, which piled up quickly with no more segments.

“Alright… can we talk?”

“Of course.” Zandik had been especially attentive to your words lately. Perhaps because he missed the times you would talk his ear off.

“I want to make something clear.” Zandik looked at you curiously as you took a deep breath. Many possibilities raced through his head.

“I still love you, Zandik.”

Well, he certainly wasn’t expecting that, and you could tell, even though his expression did not betray his thoughts.

“You already know the reason I’m…” Your voice trailed off, not wanting to say the words aloud, but you continued. “But I… appreciate you for staying by me. For all these centuries, through everything. It’s been a… very long time. And although things are different now, I want us to be… happy again. It might not be immediately but… it’s because I love you, Zandik.” You swallowed, at the end, your voice growing a bit softer. Ah, you hoped that wasn’t too sentimental. Zandik’s expression was blank so you couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“So yeah, that’s all… I guess.” All of a sudden, the silence that followed made you embarrassed, and you wanted to leave there as quickly as possible. “Okay, I-I’ll let you do your work now.” And then you hastily made your exit and left the Harbinger alone, before he started chuckling to himself. He’d expect nothing less from you, his dear, darling spouse.

Though he wonders if you realize time is irrelevant for him. He’ll wait for you as long as it takes.

—

“One thing about the raven and the butterfly that would never change was that they were wholly intertwined with each other. Their fates were one. So even if they happened to go their separate ways, they would inevitably return to one another again.”

It was actually quite scary how fast time flew. From the time you woke up, to marrying Dottore, to the segments passing, to right now… it felt like a blur. You guess, now that your life span was no longer that of a regular human’s, time was starting to skew a bit for you. Well, you were just excited to spend decades more, even centuries with him.

Throughout all the years that had passed since that day, you found yourself falling more and more in love with Zandik again. You suppose that should be normal for a married couple but, it never ceased to amaze you how one man could make you feel like this.

Something that had become somewhat of a habit for the two of you was dancing. Yes, dancing. It had come up during one of your wedding anniversaries. To be honest, neither of you really did or planned anything special for the day. Perhaps there was a bit more kissing along with other affectionate activities, but you two didn’t look at it as something that big. First, because you didn’t want to waste his already precious time, but also because you knew from the beginning the wedding anniversaries would be countless. So every anniversary was more of something you expected, so it was nothing too big to celebrate, especially as people who lived this long… if that made sense. And Dottore… was Dottore after all. Never one to care much for dates.

But on one anniversary you were reminded of how you two danced during the wedding. Your clumsy steps as Dottore guided you through it all, and you wanted to relive that, so he indulged you. And funnily enough, you were a lot better! Your steps weren’t as unsteady and your body didn’t ache as much. Dottore’s feet didn’t get assaulted by yours too much. Even Dottore was pleasantly surprised. It probably had to do with the fact that although you weren’t cured yet, your health had been up on an upward curve. Of course, never the best but, much better than you first were. You were proud of yourself for making it this far.

So now, when you had time, you found yourself rehearsing your steps with him and your husband twirling you around. Perhaps one day you could reach his level.

You found that there were days that reminded you of the Akademiya. Where you could help him with his notes and research like a real assistant would. Obviously, it still wasn’t the best but it was something, and you could see that Dottore liked it. These days often came with you teasing him with embarrassing memories from the Akademiya.

“I still remember when you got motion sickness from piloting that ruin golem, Zandik.”

“For the last time, I did not get motion sickness, [Name].”

“Mhm, sure. If I didn’t drag you out, you would have-”

“That is enough from you.”

You found that there were more days he would take you out into the Snezhnayan winters (you were bundled up to the max) so you could finally see the snow. You found yourself attending your first balls at the Tsaritsa’s palace, as Dottore was now forced to attend himself rather than his segments. He didn’t want to leave you by yourself in the dreary lab so… you were often his plus one, where you spent the evening poking fun at him with Columbina. (You also were the one who publicly took sweets to-go from the parties for him so he wouldn’t get judged.)

And perhaps your favorite memory was when he took you back to Sumeru - yes, to another country - so you could witness the Akademiya Extravaganza festival. He, of course, had no interest in it, but you being you and loving fun things absolutely did. Many things happened, including meeting the Traveler… but that story was for another day.

All in all, you always knew this but, you found that no matter how many years passed, no matter what Il Dottore has done, no matter the amount of sins and wrongfulness he has committed… you were hopelessly in love with him. From the time he was that perpetually irritated but in love student from the Akademiya to his current self, the Harbinger that was a stark contrast to his former self but still possessed you for himself.

Sure, it was a bit lonely at times compared to before, but all the tender moments throughout the years made you happy to have Zandik in your life. Which is why you foolishly thought these times would last forever.

When Dottore told you he was leaving Snezhnaya, and therefore the lab, and therefore you, it jolted you right up from your sleepy daze on his lap.

“What?!” The word came out as a half yell, half-whisper. “What do you mean you’re leaving Snezhnaya?”

“It means I’m leaving Snezhnaya, dear,” he continued on his paperwork (which never seemed to end) as if this was common knowledge. “The mission needs a Harbinger to oversee it, and the task falls to me this time.” 

You were devastated. There were times when Dottore only had to leave the lab for a few days to attend to matters in different parts of Snezhnaya. (You spent the time at Columbina’s mansion because oddly enough, she always seemed to be there… how did she manage to shirk her duties so often?) But this was completely different. He would be so far out of reach, for a long time probably too. Foreign missions always took a while. You remember how long you had to wait for the segments to return from them.

“Okay, then I’ll come with you!”

“No, you’re not,” he immediately shut down your proposition. “Missions are still far too dangerous with your current state. You will stay in Snezhnaya, and wait for me to come back.” You knew when he used that tone, things were final, and you hung your head low, all sleepiness gone at the fact you wouldn’t be seeing him for months. Sure, you would be staying with Bina as usual but, you had a feeling it’d be hard to replace the rush of emotions Dottore gave you on a daily basis. 

Dottore noticed your dour expression, which he obviously expected, and sighed, setting down his pen. At this point, it was a sort of routine that he had memorized, comforting you and all. Although comfort would never be something he was adept in, years of doing it had let him become somewhat proficient. 

“[Name],” he moved his hand to guide your chin up so you could look at him. You were pouting. “These few months, or even less, depending on how quickly the work gets done, will only be a blink of an eye in the grand scheme of things. I’ll be back before you know it,” he hummed. Although he certainly was not pleased about leaving you by yourself for so long, such was the life of a Fatui Harbinger. It was at times like these he missed his segments. (Did that sound selfish? Well, he was a selfish man when it came to you.)

A drop in eternity, huh? Well, when he puts it like that, then maybe it would be just a bit bearable. And, when you think about it, he’s waited over four hundred years for you, all alone. So this little challenge couldn’t be too hard, right?

“Alright… I’ll wait for you, Zandik.”

“Good,” he chuckled at how easy it was to win you over sometimes and stroked your cheek. “In the meantime, you can work on the recipe you’ve been vehemently hiding from me and show me when I’m back.” You immediately brightened at that.

“Oh yeah! I promise you’re going to like these sweets better than the ones at the bakery!” You proudly declared.

“Oh? Now that’s a high standard you’ve set yourself to, dear. Are you sure you’re going to be able to live up to it?”

“Hmph, don’t underestimate me. My baking skills have improved over the years!”

The banter always made you two feel like regular humans, despite what you two really were.

—

“The days went by peacefully for the lonely butterfly, but soon that feeling was shattered when they learned of a golden comet’s presence near their raven.”

The days in Columbina’s mansion went by rather uneventfully. Surprisingly enough, she wasn’t home as often as usual. It seemed like the Fatui were really stepping up their business now. You’d have to ask Dottore about that. Maybe the day Celestia is defeated was closer than you thought. But today was a day Bina had some time to indulge in cakes and conversation with you. The chit-chat was mundane but brought a sense of comfort until the conversation somehow ended up with Dottore as the topic. Your friend always liked teasing you about him. Everything was lighthearted and sweet until she idly mentioned his mission.

“I wonder how your Doctor is doing on the mission~”

“Well, I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s Dottore after all.”

“Mhm, that’s right. I do wonder how he plans to deal with the Traveler though.” The mention of the blonde’s name nearly made you drop your teacup.

“W-What?” Your voice cracked as you implored your friend to tell you more. You were now realizing that you neglected to ask Dottore what the mission exactly was, and he did not reveal the contents as well, probably because he knew you’d freak even more if you knew he was most likely going to confront the Traveler. Columbina looked confused.

“Dear, did he not tell you?”

“No! I- ah, he only told me he has a mission in another nation, I guess it slipped my mind to ask him the details!” You now had your hand clutched to your head and another one trying to soothe your now rapidly beating heart. A naive and very stupid part of you thought it wouldn’t have to come to this, but it already did, so quickly too. 

Why were you so particularly scared? It was because all you could think of was Omega’s death by the Traveler’s hand, as well as your fellow colleagues. You knew that Dottore was far stronger than any of them but… you were in a panic. All the worst possible scenarios began invading your mind relentlessly.

“[Name], calm down. Dottore is strong. We do not even know if it will end in a battle or not, but regardless of the outcome, he is smart enough to-” Bina attempted to comfort you before you interrupted her and abruptly stood up.

“I need to go.”

“Go? Go to Dottore, dear?”

“Yes. Yes, I need to see him. I need-” Your words were becoming a jumbled mess from the anxiety this piece of news caused. “I need to see him in person if he’s okay.”

“You do not think you should think about this some more? I suspect the Doctor will not be happy if he sees you there, even if it’s you of all people.”

“It doesn’t matter. If I stay here, all I’ll be able to think about is him.” You could already see yourself losing sleep and appetite over this. “But as long as I can see him okay… even if he’s angry, I can deal with it. Anything is better than being over here helpless!” Columbina watched you silently.

“Alright. Be ready in a few days.” You looked at her in surprise.

“Bina? You’re helping me? You’re not going to… stop me?”

“Dear [Name], I will not get in the way of a decision you’ve made for yourself. If this is what you’ve decided, then it is my duty as your friend to assist you as I’ve done in the past. And perhaps this will teach the Doctor a lesson to stop withholding information from you,” the Harbinger sighed.

“…Thank you, Columbina.” You’d have to repay her sometime later.

—

“The raven and the butterfly found themselves reunited again at long last, and would stay together like that forever.”

It was funny you found yourself back here, your home country. It seems like you two were always drawn back here, despite no longer being welcomed. But that didn’t really matter too much, because as soon as the boat you were on pulled into the port, it was clear that today was not a normal day in Sumeru City.

You were too late. 

The fight had clearly already begun, probably only recently too, by the chaotic state of Sumeru. Obviously, it’d be out of order if there were two immensely powerful beings in battle with each other. Maybe, if you were just a bit sooner… but you already had your mind set. Although the Fatui agent entrusted with your safety was ready to head back already, his orders to not let you come to any danger, you just tranquilized him. (It was a courtesy device from Dottore in case he wasn’t near.)

And you ran. Was that a good idea considering your illness? Absolutely not, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Was it a good idea to walk into the middle of a battle? Also no, but you couldn’t shake the bad feeling you had this whole time. 

Although it was far away, it was easy to spot the place, as for one there were Fatui swarming the area and also regular citizens running in the opposite direction. Though your lungs were absolutely burning, your knees weak and scraped from tripping, tired from bumping into others, illness flaring up even worse from the added stress and exertion, you continued ahead with only one goal. To see your husband.

Throughout your haggard walking, you thought of the future. You thought of how great it would be to see Teyvat change in the next four hundred years just as he did. And this time, Dottore would not have to witness it by himself. He would have you. It would be amazing, just thinking of all the variety of new inventions and such that would be created! You two would surely dissect them and put them back together for fun. You two would do a lot of things, you think, as you finally made it to the door of the grand building the fight was in. It was already rather damaged, but the door managed to remain mostly intact, so you pushed it open.

Just in time to see the Traveler land the final fatal hit to Zandik, his body landing on the floor with a painful thud.

Your worst nightmare had become reality. But… Zandik told you he’d return to you in no time…

Suddenly, all the will you had before was gone in an instant. You didn’t have the energy or focus to call out his name. All you could do was blankly stare at his defeated body while taking some hesitant steps forward, all while mumbling something incoherent under your breath. The Traveler, despite their exhaustion, noticed you and immediately readied their sword again. But, they soon realized that there was no need for that from the exceedingly dull look in your eyes and the way you tripped over yourself again, landing on the floor, reaching out your hand towards the Doctor. You had to make it to him.

You pathetically dragged your body closer to Zandik, every part of it screaming out in part for you to stop. But you didn’t care. You could take it. After all, you knew the pain would soon be over. The Traveler merely watched you, still a bit on edge for what you could do, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care about anything besides Zandik, so you continued inching your body to your husband before you finally reached him. His body was practically motionless, his face revealed as his mask was destroyed to the side somewhere. When you came into view, a flicker of surprise came across his face but it quickly morphed into one of acceptance.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” You half-laughed at that.

“I could say the same to you…” Your voice had dropped to a soft, defeated one. Huffing and panting, you used your last remaining strength to pull yourself up and kneel, tenderly bringing your husband’s head onto your lap. He did not resist. It wasn’t like he had the strength to anyway. “You didn’t tell me you were going to be here, either.”

“It was not necessary… at the time,” Zandik said, looking right at you the whole time with those red eyes of his. “But I suppose I should have expected this. You never do as you are told, do you?”

“Of course not. But you should remember that whenever I break the rules, things turn out fine for us.” You smiled, and you had a feeling both of you were thinking of the same memories. That time you helped him break into the Akademiya’s library when it was closed, or the time you threw a book at someone for him, or the time you two helped each other on what was supposed to be solo assignments. Or the times you ran away from his needles and medicine, or the times you went behind his back and befriended the others. Those times ended out okay, so this time would be okay too.

Then, the building began to rumble, most likely about to collapse. The battle must have been quite fierce. Although the Traveler felt no remorse for the two of you, their kind heart still couldn’t help but feel the slightest twinge of pity. After all, the blonde had read the notes the two of you left scattered around Sumeru. To think that a relationship could last so long, especially one with the mad Doctor… You noticed their expression before you rasped out a mixture of a plea and demand.

“Why are you still here? Leave us now. I want to be alone with him.” Your words were empty of emotion towards them. There was no point in any hostility anymore, not when you had to treasure the last moments with your beloved. The Traveler didn’t seem surprised by your words, as they nodded and threw the bloodied Harbinger one last glance, before running away with the little fairy. It seemed they knew… you’d rather die here along with him than live without him.

You looked back at Zandik’s face, his once brightly colored red eyes now a darkened hue.

“I’ve failed you, [Name].” Since it was the end of the line now, even a genius scholar such as him had to admit defeat. Dottore thought back to all the times he swore to cure you. He swore he would do it so that you could be who you used to be once more. But he failed. He let you lose centuries of your life and left you in pain for your conscious ones. But you didn’t seem to share the sentiment.

“Failed me?” You couldn’t help but laugh at that, despite the tears that began to run down your cheeks. “Oh darling, you have never failed me. Not once in over four hundred years.” Zandik continued to stare at you because that was all the strength he had to do, so you reached for his hand and brought it to your cheek.

“You’ve loved me continuously for so many centuries, haven’t you? How could that ever be a failure?” You nuzzled into his hand, his own blood beginning to smear on your face, but you didn’t care. 

“Your love has changed so much over time. From your prickly and thorny yet beautiful love from the Akademiya. To your smooth and unabashed love now. But your love was unfaltering, to me at least. Perhaps I may be delusional, and I overthink how much you love me. But I think it was real, even though you may never admit it, that is what matters to me. So if you’re thinking about the cure, forget it.” Your hands were shaking and struggling to hold his to your cheek for this long, energy spent, but you continued anyway, even as a piece of the infrastructure suddenly caved in and collapsed on the opposite side of the room with a loud crash. “The cure isn’t what mattered. It was you.”

Zandik thinks you are the only person who has forgiven him. Not even he has. He knows he does not deserve it, but he shouldn’t say that to you now. But he thinks, even at this moment, perhaps it may seem sick or morbid, your beauty still manages to surpass that of any other being in Teyvat.

You thought about the Tsaritsa, who had shown you much love and kindness. You hoped she would finally achieve her goals. You thought about the other Harbingers, the ones who were still alive at least. You would miss them. You looked at your wedding ring. It was still intact. How lovely. Lastly, you thought about Zandik as you looked at him, and he seemed to realize something.

“[Name], reach into my pocket.” You were confused but you complied, wincing in pain a bit but successfully reached it and pulled out a box. It was the box he kept his wedding wing in. Popping it open, you were correct, and still couldn’t help but be a bit incredulous.

“You brought it with you?” You were surprised because a part of you still believed he thought the whole thing was a bit dumb.

“I normally do not but, with the length of the mission, I believed it would be a simple and easy way to be reminded of you.” That was cute.

“Sorry. I guess the good luck charm didn’t work,” you smiled apologetically as you slipped the band onto his finger, to which Zandik scoffed.

“You know very well I do not believe in luck.” You only laughed, though it was mostly drowned out by multiple crashes and rocks falling all around you. Being buried was a fitting end, to be honest. No one else needed to know about the two of you. No one else needed to know your stories. It would be best if the two of you ended up forgotten, lost to time. Then, no one would be able to misunderstand or twist your relationship.

Despite all of the pains that had befallen you, the suffering and hardships, you could happily say you lived a good life. You were happy, so happy, thanks to Zandik. Zandik was what made this life worth living… so this was okay. You would have loved to have been cured and lived out many more happy memories with him but… this was alright. But the time was limited, so this conversation needed to be wrapped up in a way that would satisfy you.

“I love you, Zandik.” You don’t expect any response back because of your husband’s poor track record with saying those words. 

The times Zandik has said the words ‘I love you’ have admittedly been scarce and in-between despite the centuries he’s spent with you. It was a grand total of… two times. And both had been said when he thought you were sleeping. 

The first time had been in the Akademiya. It had been a while since you two were a couple, and he had yet to say it. You expected that obviously. But one random night, when you two were cuddling and drifting off into dreamland, you heard the three words mumbled into the crook of your neck. It took everything in you not to react.

The second time had been when you had recently woken up from your coma. Dottore was around you constantly, taking so many tests that it made your head spin, and you had to take naps more often than not. And once again, as you were just about to slip off into slumber, you heard the three words whispered as he gently bit your ear.

Surprisingly enough, the third time would be now. Perhaps because he had nothing to lose anymore, as it was the end.

“I love you as well, [Name].” Your eyes go wide for a few seconds before you grin widely one last time, and you give him a look that says ‘I know.’ Zandik watched your eyes flutter shut as you leaned down to his face, and he let himself be enveloped in your final kiss, neither of you paying attention to the shadows cast by the multitude of broken architecture about to fall on top of you.

Let the fairy tale come to a close.

—

“In his last moments, the raven was taken back to a memory from centuries ago. It was a memory where he was truly happy with his lovely sparrow.”

Zandik awoke to a blue sky and a gentle breeze. He blinked, immediately trying to gauge where he was. But then the sound of a familiar voice flooded his senses.

“And you know what this professor had the audacity to say to me, Zandik? ‘Figure it out!’ Like, you’re supposed to be helping me, not writing me off! You’re getting paid for this!” You were lying down on the grass next to him, hands folded as you huffed. “At least I have you, Zandik. Way better than any damn professor.” He blinks at you. 

Zandik remembers this moment. It was the day when exams and classes were finally over, and you wanted to relax before helping him with his experiments. And you also thought it was the perfect time to rant about all the professors you had to deal with over the last few months. But soon, you just started bringing up random things that occurred over the term. Zandik couldn’t remember the last time he saw you like this. Donning the Akademiya uniform, so happy and carefree… healthy, strong, like nothing in the world bothered you.

He found himself slightly smiling at how stupidly happy you looked, before reaching out to you. But as soon as merely his fingernails came into contact with you, you began to dissolve right in front of his eyes. Immediately, he stiffened and sat up, again trying to take hold of you but you were no longer there. Zandik’s hands began to shake, and that’s when he realized his surroundings were changing.

The blue sky was now fading away, becoming pitch black along with everything else that was chipping away, ready to swallow him whole into the darkness.

Ah, he understood now.

This was the end.

—

“Finally, the twisted raven met his fate.”

Or so he thought. Zandik woke up once more. Everything seemed normal at first, the blue sky was once again there and the Sumerian breeze caressed his hair. Until he realized there was a sticky substance coated all over his hands.

Blood.

This wasn’t an unfamiliar occurrence for him, after all, he would usually get hands-on with his experiments, but he had an… odd feeling about this. Zandik blinked and all of a sudden, there you were lying on the ground in front of him.

Dead. Coated with blood.

Did he… kill you?

All too quickly, before he could reach out to hold your body or begin to process what happened, he was suddenly somewhere else. The desert.

Zandik laid eyes upon you. What he would usually see was you complaining about the heat while you dug through the ruins. What he saw instead was an Eremite plunging a sword through you.

And again. This time he awoke to you being completely cold and limp in his arms. And again. It didn’t take his brain long for him to understand what was happening.

His victims and test subjects could torture him for eternity, yet Dottore would not feel bothered or a shred of remorse. It would be a useless endeavor. But this? This was the perfect punishment. 

His beloved being killed in front of him, by the world, by other people, by natural forces, by his own hands. And for all of the power and knowledge he once had, he was powerless to do anything yet again.

… How ironic, Zandik thought.

—

At last, the tiny Archon closed the storybook.

It had been ages since the events in this tale had taken place. The Fatui were no more, Celestia was gone, the Traveler had long left this world, and Teyvat was at peace. So much time, that the Outcast’s name no longer floated around the Akademiya, now long forgotten. The God of Wisdom herself had gained a tremendous amount of knowledge from all the years that had flown by. And even still, she has not forgotten this story.

Yet, in all of her wisdom, she still cannot hope to fully understand the raven and the sparrow. The Dendro Archon found herself coming back to this tale, trying to comprehend their actions and thoughts. She reads it aloud to herself, draws pictures, and crafts the tale with her own words, yet it only leaves her more lost. Perhaps one day she will understand. But perhaps she won’t. Perhaps no one ever will.

After all, there were only two people who would ever truly understand the bond between the raven and the sparrow. 

Zandik and [Name]. 

An unfriendly and cold scholar and a sweet and caring one.

An immoral villain and an accomplice.

A violator of this world’s laws and a supporter.

A Harbinger and an assistant.

Regardless of those titles, perhaps at the end of the day, they only saw themselves as one thing to each other.

Two people who loved each other as if nothing else mattered.

[mikoluvsblondes]

If you love me won't you say something?

Kate Martin x reader

Water splashed around in the pool that was surrounded by childrens laughter and soon you would be surrounded by Kates arms pulling you down into the water with her. You smiled at each other as the water drowned out the loud noises of the water park. This moment lasted a couple seconds and as if your mothers knew exactly when the two of you would need to come up for air, they called you and Kate.

You came up for air first, watching as her wet blonde hair glowed as she popped out of the water and into the sunshine. Both of you turned to your mothers with a 'Yes!' before hearing that it was time to leave. You followed after her as she climbed out of the pool.

"We need to do this again." You said excitedly.

"We definitely will." Kate replied, handing you a towel before grabbing a towel for herself.

To anyone else it was a small gesture or 'just basic manners' ,but to you it was so much more. It was the reason you were so fond of her, the reason you hung out with her so much,and the reason you had to keep the butterflies in your stomach from knocking against your insides. But she was just a friend...right? Plus, she was so obviously straight anyways.

But that was in highschool. Things are different now.

You and Kate have known each other since you were little girls biking one house over to hangout with each other. Living so closeby and going to the same schools pushed you two to be such close friends, but after highschool you both split up for college; like many people do(even though you promised to play together everyday when you were 5 years old).

But today was different. You were finally able to see Kate in person again after long years of occasional texts or short phone calls.

Now, the doorbell is ringing and you're jogging through the house to get to the front door as flashes of childhood memories with Kate paint every inch of every wall. You can hear your mother's voice greeting Kate as you turn the corner. There she is. Giving your mom a hug before pulling away as soon as she sees you.

"Kate!" you scream, jumping into her open arms to give her a hug. She stumbles a bit before she puts you down and you can get a good look at her. She hasn't changed much, just older, but not in a bad way. You like it.

"I haven't seen you in so long." she gives you a quick hug.

As the two of you got caught up with each others lives, the conversation began to drift towards memories you made growing up together. And that's how you ended up in your swimming pool with Kate.

"See. I said we would do this again didn't I?" she asked, pushing damp hair out of her face.

"I guess you were right."

She comes closer to you, resting her hands on your shoulders and you did the same to her. You stayed in this position; floating around the pool in each others arms. You enjoyed the sound of her voice and the feeling of her touch.

Kate has always been a touchy friend ,but this time is different. Her demeanor has changed. She seems so passionate. Her every touch, every action, and every word that leaves her lips has so much intent and meaning.

Her face inches closer to yours so naturally that you barely notice how close she is to you. So naturally that you barely notice the feeling of her warm breath fall onto your wet skin. You notice nothing ,but at the same time you notice it all. The sound of water from her wet hair dripping into the pool, the feeling skin making contact with yours, the way her blue eyes reflect light into yours, and the contrast of her warm body and the cold calm water.

You draw each other in so lovingly. She presses her lips against yours and you kiss her back. The kiss lengthens, treating each other with such gentleness as if you were both made of glass.

When you pull away, you're met with Kate smiling back at you with a flushed color.

"I love you." she whispers.

"I love you too. I've always loved you." you say against her lips before pulling her into another kiss.

'I guess things really are different now' you thought.

-𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐨♡

[jensettermandu]

nostalgia - huh yunjin

genre; light angst, fluff, sfw

pairing; yunjin x female reader

synopsis; purely based on the song Nostalgia by Suki Waterhouse

wc; 5.5k+

masterlist

a/n; i do recommend listening to the song while or before reading, just to hear all of its lyrics because only certain parts are used in the story plus it's such a good song

‘Do you still have the CDs that I burned you?’

Yunjin was aware that there was a limit to everything, even to how much of her life she could fit in her luggage before going back to South Korea to chase her dreams. It was hard to leave; leaving everything behind was what made it the hardest; the fact that she could only bring a small portion of her current life with her.

There was a fear that if she didn’t bring certain things, she would forget about them.

Of course, she was excited, but the tears of joy had also turned to tears that burned and a difficult feeling to swallow as it was thick with emotions. There were so many emotions to feel and it all ended up overwhelming her; missing her comfort.

As she looked through her last few drawers as a way to reminisce and try not to forget the stuff she would leave, in what would be her old room, her fingers stumbled upon something that held a deep past; it felt like a bitter past now when it had been so sweet. 

Yunjin grabbed the three different CD cases, grabbing onto what was left of the love she could have had. With those she picked up the walkman, she forgot to return and now never would get to return.

As she put the first CD into the player, she lay on her bed and stared at the white and empty ceiling. The girl pressed play after putting in the earphones; it burned her skin as she found herself painting out her memories onto the ceiling; reminiscing about a recent past as she listened to the voice.

Yunjin wasn’t the only one with dreams.

“These are just for you and no one else; our favourites and this one is—” Yunjin watched Y/n who trailed off, a CD case in her hand, she had already handed two to Yunjin.

It was a sweet gesture; it was affectionate and intimate and meant the world to Yunjin at the moment. Three CDs Y/n had burned her were better than anything else she could have gotten from anyone, especially Y/n. Somehow, she found herself creating the best memories when she was with her, she felt the most with her and didn’t want anything else.

They had come to the city for two different reasons; Yunjin had given up on her dreams and she fondly watched Y/n chase hers. There was some hope that it would reignite her passion again.

The girl sighed, her accent thick with her old home after coming from London to chase her dream in New York. 

“A few demos, so…” 

Carefully as if it was a flake of gold Yunjin reached for the see-through CD case in her girlfriend’s hold. This would become a core memory in her head; this was special in so many ways, Y/n’s first demos were in her hold. A smile painted itself onto her lips and she knew that she could always start creating and chasing new dreams; Y/n had become her dream.

Yunjin had never been more sure of the words that left her lips next, nothing had ever felt more right. This was something she was sure of, something she was passionate about. “I love you,” she truly did and being young, 18, she hadn’t had the opportunity to fall in love. 

This was beyond an infatuation, this was deeper, this was love and this time those three words meant what they were and she didn’t say them because she thought it was love.

Yunjin said them because she knew it was love.

Y/n let out a small giggle, a fond smile resting on her lips as her eyes gazed over Yunjin’s face as if searching for an answer to her words. There was no need for a long search because the answer was right there.

“I love you, Jen.” 

And in the moonlight that seeped through the windows in Y/n’s studio apartment as they were on the mattress that was on the floor Yunjin and Y/n both got to live through what was real love. 

The CD cases were discarded to the side, listened to during their affectionate pillow talk, and the same happened to Y/n’s shirt as Yunjin pulled it off, letting it fall onto the studio apartment's wooden floor. 

‘The T-shirt you pulled off me, the night you said you loved me?’

Yunjin reached for the t-shirt that was about to fall out of the wardrobe and onto the floor. “Hurry up or we will be late for practice!” She didn’t reply to Chaewon who had run past her to get to the door. 

She looked at the shirt, the print had somewhat washed away, the same way those memories were washing away. It hadn’t been long since she left, but the remnants of an old dream were still lingering. 

‘I love you, Jen.’

How long has she had Y/n’s shirt? Was it from all those years back when Yunjin for the first time said I love you? How did it end up in Seoul? How did a piece of her past end up in Seoul; a piece of Y/n; her old dream? Did she pack it? Did it fall in by accident? Did someone else put it in? It was here though, with Yunjin, a piece of what she had left of Y/n.

It would do her no good, the same way the CDs wouldn’t as they were put away in her drawer in her old room before her flight. Yunjin stuffed the shirt back, far back, hiding it so as to not stumble upon it again. It was time to forget, the same way they had forgiven so easily. The quicker, the better because it wouldn’t ache.

She couldn’t bring all of this with her though, Yunjin couldn’t bring this nostalgia with her, she had to forget about it even if she wished to dwell in it for eternity.

Yunjin was chasing a new dream. 

‘I still have the marks that you made on me

It's easy to forget that you are gone’

New York City would always be busy, everyone lived in a world of their own, Y/n included. She walked forward, but still always found herself stuck in the same place even after what had been months, a year almost.

She would stutter in her actions; all those times she would stare at the barista. The usual order was what she wanted, wasn’t it? The usual. The usual. What was the usual? Despite knowing the usual by heart she found herself staring at the menu above the man for a second. It was like a blackout in her mind.

It wasn’t the usual:

‘Two iced americanos?’ 

That sounded right.

“One iced americano. Extra strong.” 

However, it wasn’t right and she had yet to grow used to it. 

In the same way, it wasn’t right to reach for her phone every time she came up with a new melody or lyrics to send it right to her lover.

The same way that picture of the broken guitar at the studio ended up with the rest of the unsent pictures. 

In the same way, there was no one to expect at home yet she still always wanted to call out her name when she entered, it would be at the tip of her tongue. 

Those moments of doubt that would always disappear when she asked for opinions; opinions that had always mattered the most to her. It was just another empty reach because she realised she didn’t have that anymore. 

That blackout in her head where she couldn’t remember why it wasn’t right never lasted too long as it got filled with the present. Y/n would remember that Yunjin was gone, she was away from her. The spots would fill with a sadness that washed over her, remembering that she lived in a nostalgia of when she and Yunjin were still together.

She kept forgetting that she was just letting herself sleep in nostalgia.

Y/n’s sip of coffee was bitter, she loved it, but the bitterness from a while back wasn’t as pleasant.

‘I talk about the past like I talk about you’

Two passionate lovers is what they were. They loved big and fought for their love even bigger even if it was with the other. It wasn’t often though, it seldom happened, but when it did it was big because of their passion that only grew with the years.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Y/n?”

“Why would I be joking about this, Yunjin!?”

Y/n clenched her jaw, taking in a deep breath as she tried to hold her tears at bay. Yunjin didn’t make her cry, it was just her fears that made her cry, the fears Yunjin always reassured her she didn’t need to have. 

Those promises neither of them would break, yet they found their love so precious and important to them that the smallest littlest sign of possible defect sent the whole perfectly organised heart into a frenzy.

Love wasn’t easy, it came with easy parts, but so many parts weren’t. As there were beautiful parts to it, there was ugly too. 

It was still explosive, their love was, it was great; greater than most could handle, but they fought the strength of it to not let it overwhelm them. It still had those moments where it did manage to do so. 

“I don’t fucking know. You just…”

Y/n smiled, it would always be a blur whenever she was asked questions about the songs she wrote. The only story she could tell her friends was that those songs were made-up telltales most of the time. 

‘I leave out every little thing that I don't like remembering’

“Wait–Okay, no, it’s recording now.”

“You’re such an idiot.” Y/n laughed, trying to push away the camcorder that was being shoved in her face.

“Stop it, you look pretty. I need to get it on video.” Yunjin argued, pushing away Y/n’s hands, but her girl was trying to put up a small fight. 

“Is it truly such a need?”

“Uh-huh. You look pretty 24/7 and I need some of it on video.” It wasn’t hard for her to overpower the smaller girl as Yunjin grabbed hold of Y/n’s wrists with one hand and quickly straddled her girlfriend, having her pinned to the mattress. 

Those giddy giggles continued as they messed around; it was always the same, it was always as comforting as a late-night drive in light rain. It created a sense of peace to the mind, it felt serene and warm even if it was cold outside. 

“I can now declare my love for you on camera,” Yunjin stated as she angled the camera towards them and leaned down. 

The lens watched the two girls who stared at each other; Yunjin’s hand unwrapped around Y/n’s wrists and gently cupped her cheek, with the latter wrapping her arms around her shoulders. It watched as they stared at each other in a momentary silence; it caught the love in their eyes, the fondness, the adoration, the care, the comfort they felt with each other; their starry-eyed romance.

Yunjin smiled with a light chuckle as she spoke, “I Huh ‘Jennifer’ Yunjin love you, Y/n Y/l/n, more than I can express.” 

Y/n mirrored the smile, her eyes twinkling brighter than stars in the sky, “I love you more than I will ever be able to say I do, Huh ‘Jennifer’ Yunjin.” 

The camcorder continued to capture their love as Yunjin dropped it onto the mattress and put her lips against Y/n’s to continue declaring the love they held for each other.

It could have been that she skipped the bad parts, left out everything she would rather not remember Yunjin or their love for as she was missing the idea of the girl.

‘I miss you more than I say I do’

“Do you miss whoever that is?” 

Y/n looked over her shoulder at the guy who gave her a discerning smile; as if he knew the answer to the question. The girl grabbed hold of the journal where she had been scribbling down lyrics and spun around in the chair. 

She looked over the words, it had been three years, and then she looked up at the man. The studio was quite dim, almost a yellow and reddish colour that matched the rugs that were on the floor and hung on the walls together with the other types of soundproofing. 

That person she hadn’t seen for three years; were the songs about her? 

“I don’t, it’s just fiction,” Y/n spoke, knowing that it wasn’t fiction as she still, after three painfully dreadful slow years, strongly longed after the person most of her songs seemed to be about. 

She tried to convince herself otherwise, she tried to convince herself that she was too busy chasing her dreams to even remember who Huh ‘Jennifer’ Yunjin was.

However, it was clear that Yunjin had never even for a second left Y/n’s frame even if she wasn’t in the picture anymore. 

The person who wasn’t there was her only muse. 

‘You had to follow all your dreams, move to New York (Seoul), away from me

You were so easy to forgive, but not so easy to forget’

Yunjin’s heart pounded, she knew that she never needed to be worried or nervous, but it was wrecking her even as Y/n jumped into her arms with a squeal. The cool wind that blew on the roof of Y/n’s apartment building was one she would remember for years; the way it left a chill on her skin all while feeling forlornness and happiness at the same time, that bittersweet taste of her tongue.

It was a taste that wouldn’t wash away. 

Y/n buried her face in the crook of Yunjin’s neck, she felt happy for her girlfriend, but she couldn’t tell if those tears that made it past her eyes were solely tears of joy. No, something was crumbling, breaking into pieces inside Y/n; was that what heartbreak felt like? Was this what true love was? It was painful.

True love was pain.

It just took some time to settle for both of them how painful love was as the other things they faced starry-eyed weren’t close to the damage this was causing them. It was hard to keep the same starry gaze. 

“I’m sorry.” The girl barely managed to let out as her fingers twisted the material of Y/n’s sweater. She truly was sorry for making Y/n believe that she was her only dream, but the second the opportunity showed itself after all this time, that spark of her old dreams ignited. 

Yunjin had spent countless years chasing something she failed to reach and now it was right at the tips of her fingers. She never thought it would happen and she had been ready to move on from it, but it was like fate was presenting itself to her. 

Y/n wanted to hate Yunjin, but she knew that she couldn’t even if the girl was breaking her heart. She loved her too much to keep her. She had moved to New York away from everyone to chase her dreams too, so she understood Yunjin, but she couldn’t lie and say that it wasn’t wrecking her; that it wouldn’t leave her a mess.

She wrapped her arms tighter around the taller girl’s shoulders who pulled her in closer; a goodbye to someone who was still there but wouldn’t be for much longer hurt her. They both hurt. They had been protecting their love, they had devoted themselves to protecting it from even the smallest defects, but they couldn’t protect it from themselves. 

As the promises they made, were the promises they never meant to break

“Don’t feel guilty for doing what’s best for you, Jen, don’t be sorry for chasing your dreams.”

Y/n forgave her for hurting her, but that never meant that she was able to forget her, let alone the pain that Yunjin caused her, the pain they caused each other. If they had known, would they still pursue a love this great? The answer was a simple yes; no matter the pain, their love was worth it until the last second no matter how much it tore them into pieces on that roof.

‘Why can't I keep you right where I want you?

Y/n stared at Yunjin, she had found herself admiring Yunjin at night whenever she couldn’t fall asleep. Then every morning when she woke up, later because she could never fall asleep, she did so to Yunjin fondly caressing her with her gaze, waiting for Y/n to wake up.

She moved the slightest, slowly twisting in Yunjin’s tight and warm hold on her waist. It was hard to imagine that it had been two years since they met and that in a couple of months, Yunjin would get a call that would reignite her dreams and leave them torn to pieces that were miles apart. 

Now on her stomach, an arm still holding onto her waist, Y/n could look better over Yunjin's face; unaware that soon her nights would be spent in an empty bed, crying and longing. Her scent was gentle and comforting to Y/n; in a few months, she would only be able to smell it on her clothes until it would fully wash away. She reached her hand up and gently traced along her cheek, thumb grazing the slight pout on Yunjin’s lips; the lips she would kiss and touch for the last time soon enough.

Y/n sighed and was about to move, “where are you going?” She hummed confused at the tired, almost grumpy mumble that came from Yunjin. The arm around her waist tightened its grip, pulling Y/n flush against her warm body. She was held in an embrace she would be missing and never be able to suffice with another one. 

She would miss it all so much that it would leave her lovesick. 

If only they were aware, would it change anything? Perhaps their words.

“Nowhere, Jen.”

“Good, don’t leave.” She mumbled before turning onto her side, sighing in content as Y/n snuggled closer, right under her chin, letting Yunjin take in the calming scent of her hair. 

“I don’t plan on leaving,” her voice held a slight rasp as it was starting to fill with exhaustion and her usually sleepless nights weren’t as bad because it was easy to fall asleep in Yunjin’s presence. Maybe it was good considering that the nights ahead would be nothing, but sleepless and draining. 

“Neither do I,” those words of security. 

Those silent promises they would break. 

Y/n closed her eyes at the security she felt, falling asleep in the home that she had found. 

‘And even though you put an ocean in between us’

Y/n blinked her tired eyes open and stared ahead, the empty room seemed to stretch for miles in the dark, the bed cold and empty even if it had felt so warm just a second before she awoke. A dull ache pierced her heart at the realisation of it being a vivid dream. It took her a while to realise it was just another dream and that Yunjin was far away.

It somehow didn’t matter that she wasn’t there anymore, it did matter because it hurt and the longing for something she couldn’t have exhausted her, it just didn’t mean that she would forget her simply because she wasn’t there. 

There was something utterly beautiful about true love, but for something to be beautiful, there had to be something ugly. Which was the miles in between them, the separate dreams they were chasing and the evergreen feelings she couldn’t express to her anymore. 

All that was left was missing the idea of Yunjin, of that something that they had.

‘I will try to keep us

Together forever, nostalgia’

It wasn’t as frequent anymore, but once in a while those vivid dreams came to haunt Y/n. She turned to lay on her back and stare at the ceiling. She watched the memories wash away, trying to not care, but then she would find herself grasping for them in panic, terrified that she would forget about Yunjin even if it had been two years.

No one had simply been able to be what she was. 

After each of these dreams, she found herself closing her eyes again and repeating those memories. Despite it all, she tried to keep them together forever no matter how faint certain parts could become. Y/n would bury herself with these memories if they ever died. She kept her and Yunjin together even after two years. 

‘I just need to know that you are happy

So if it couldn't be me, then go ahead, forget me’

As time passed Y/n would find herself slipping out of her nostalgia and into reality, instead of dreaming about her, she was wondering about the other girl. Y/n was left wondering if Yunjin still had those CDs she burned for her, together with the walkman she never got back. If that shirt Yunjin pulled off the night she said she loved her was with her even though it had been years.

Did she remember their love? The same way Y/n did. 

There was a part of her that hurt whenever she thought about the fact that she was possibly the only one who still thought about the other. However, even if that was the case, she still wanted to know how Yunjin was doing even if she was the only one who still cared about how the other was doing. 

Was she at least happy after leaving her behind to follow her dreams? 

That was all that mattered to Y/n, to know that Yunjin was happy then she wouldn’t hold it against her. She would be fine with Yunjin not thinking about her the same way she would think about her almost every day. Y/n would be fine with Yunjin never reminiscing about their past together at all; with being forgotten.

“I remember helping this one group produce a song—It’s like they are making them in factories with how many groups debut lately.”

Y/n looked up from the DAW and tilted her head back to look up at the TV that was hung above them on the wall. There was no sound coming from it, “what’s this?” She questioned, wondering why her friend was playing what was a South Korean channel. That sad little bittersweet feeling filled her as she became once again painfully aware that all that she did was escape now and that in reality somewhere among those people was Yunjin.

She was no longer here with Y/n. 

“It’s the little showcases they do when they debut or make a comeback.” Y/n had been too bitter to keep track, but she knew that she would be happy for the girl. It would mean the world to her.

The one simple thing she had been wondering for these past two years was finally answered. “What group is this?” Y/n asked, dewy-eyed. She couldn’t help but smile as relief washed over her and she grew sentimental. Her heart felt fixed for a second, it was beating like it did when Yunjin was around her and told her how much she loved her. 

She was reminded of how much tender love she still had for her, knowing she couldn’t give it to her.

“Le sserafim.” 

Yunjin looked happy, she looked passionate; Y/n felt like she achieved something just from seeing Yunjin finally live out the dreams she’d had for so many years, the ones she had strived for so hard. 

There was no way for Y/n to know if the girl missed her or at least even thought about her once or if she had forgotten all about her. It didn’t matter as long as she was happy and if that was the case Y/n would rather be forgotten.

It couldn’t be Y/n that Yunjin chose in the end, but her dreams.

‘I traced my steps back to where we first met

And hold the memory 'til you slip away’’

“Excuse me, do you have Lucinda Williams LP records?”

“I don’t really work here…” 

Y/n stopped and looked over at the taller girl with confusion, after looking up from her phone, as she was sure that she saw staff in this exact spot a second ago. Her eyes glanced away from the girl and she realised that the person she initially was going to ask for help was now a row away from her.

“I do know where the LP is though–” Y/n stuttered in her step, making the other girl do the same which created an awkward moment of confusion. “I could show it.” She pointed out the obvious she was trying to do and Y/n at last caught on.

“Thank you and sorry for mistaking you for working here.” She apologised as they walked beside each other through the endless aisles of the vintage vinyl store with both old and new LP records, including CDs, walkmans and more. The store was dimly lit with yellow and beige undertones, it smelt of cardboard and dust, and the air felt thick and warm, but was evocative. 

“It’s fine, you have a nice accent. British–” “Cockney.” The two looked at each other and Y/n looped her thumb through the hole in the sleeve of her sweater. She squeezed it, was there a tremble in her voice? There was and there never usually was one. 

“British, yeah, cockney is the dialect.” She clarified as she had answered the girl before she had the chance to finish talking. What she got in return was a bright smile, one she hadn’t seen before, especially not since she moved to New York. It felt like people didn’t have time to smile or be nice in the busy city. 

“It’s pretty,” she fished for words to say, but couldn’t figure out how to receive the compliment. Y/n found herself at a loss for words because of the stranger walking beside her. “Lucinda Williams feels specific though.” However, the pretty stranger filled in the silence that would possibly fall upon them.

“I’m looking for inspiration, I grew up listening to her.”

“Inspiration?” 

Y/n breathlessly chuckled at that, remembering how she was called a fool after declaring that she was moving to New York to chase her dreams of becoming a musician. She nodded and the both of them stopped before a big row of records, her eyes scanning for the one she was looking for.

“Yeah, I’m musically inclined I guess.”

The stranger continued to make conversation, seemingly interested in the other stranger. “As in…” Y/n looked away from the rows of records as one was handed to her and she looked at the ‘World Without Tears’ LP in the dark-haired girl’s hands. 

“As in–” She took the record from the girl with a small thank you. What she also received was a bright smile and the inspiration she had been looking for. It was hard to find a muse, but somehow a pretty and nice stranger was setting a fire ablaze. “I've always wanted to be an artist and so I moved here, to New York, to follow my dreams.”

“I’m Yunjin by the way.” She introduced herself, looking at the pretty stranger with an accent, a cockney dialect like she had said. Something grew inside her chest, someone Yunjin had just met, someone she didn’t know the name of, the girl in front of her; she had so much in common with the girl in front of her despite not knowing her name yet.  

“Or well–Jennifer when I’m back home.”

“I’m Y/n.” The girl said as they both looked each other in the eye, for the first time, but not the last, yet, locked hands. 

‘I miss you more than I say I do

You had to follow all your dreams, just wish that they included me’

Y/n reached for the record that was packed between the other ones on the shelf. The old vinyl store smelled of faint dust, cardboard and memories, evocative as always. She picked up what was the same-titled LP she had bought here when she met Yunjin or Jennifer when she was back home. 

She continued to walk along the aisles, walking through memory lane once again, remembering how this was the place where she spoke about her dreams to a stranger who then became someone who knew her better than she knew herself. That same person who would leave Y/n behind to follow all her dreams; she wasn’t upset about it.

The girl stopped in front of what was a shelf with newer artists, the new generation of artists and looked at the names. However, she knew what she came for, to see a name on the shelves yet when she saw it she continued to walk. 

It did make her heart pound and teeth dig into her lower lip to contain all these overwhelming emotions that were being stirred inside of her. If only she could share them with the stranger who became her everything, to finally be able to share what she always had wanted to share with her.

The old vintage store had changed; it had gotten modern details and more products to attract more people. The world moved forward, and nothing stayed the same, all that used to be had changed around her. 

Y/n had yet to grasp it all, she didn’t meddle in the genre and maybe it was because it only made her think of one person. She still stopped over at the section to see the mini albums. Despite being aware that Yunjin was happy, obviously since she achieved what she always wanted, Y/n still wished that she was part of why she was so happy and those dreams.

Her fingers only brushed over the mini album, letting it slip through them; she preferred the past and didn’t enjoy certain changes as she continued to walk. She took a trip down memory lane, from the beginning until there was nothing more left to reminisce until she reached the part where Yunjin slipped away and they stopped creating memories together. She played it all on a loop. It was hard to pretend when she knew the truth of who and what she longed for.

‘Together forever, nostalgia

It's crazy, baby, I want you’

To sleep in nostalgia; to escape the now, Y/n found herself giving into the beauty of an illusion.

The romance of missing the idea of Yunjin who she knew wasn't far for the first time in so long, but still it felt like miles away.

It had been three years and four months. It was crazy, but Y/n still wanted Huh ‘Jennifer’ Yunjin as she stood on the outdoor theatre stage of Coachella, singing the song she had been living for the past years. 

She too reached her dreams even though she was wistful after her old one. 

‘Together forever, nostalgia

It's crazy, baby, I want ya’

Nostalgia had never been less present in Yunjin’s life as she found herself living in the now, in her reality, but this time it was because she wanted to. This time she didn’t want to escape into a dream when the scene before her was beyond what she could indulge in reminiscence.

The sun was setting and her view felt ethereal and heartbeat familiar. It was all she needed, to see Y/n reach her dreams too, that they both had reached their dreams even if it was without the other there, without being able to share it. 

Dewy-eyed she stared with sentimental spilling from her eyes and love clogging up her throat, her body warming up in a fluttering way she had wondered if she would ever feel again. 

Yunjin still had the CDs that Y/n burned her, she asked her mum to send them just a few weeks after she arrived together with the walkman. That T-shirt, the one Yunjin put on a teddy bear she hugged each night, was still with her, reminding her each time of where her love lay and the night she said where it did lay. 

It was impossible to let go of the past, to not sleep in nostalgia and reminisce every day and think about the girl who was on stage. Impossible to not wonder how she was doing. Impossible to not wonder if Yunjin too was Y/n’s wonderwall or if she was the only one.

It’s crazy, Yunjin thought, it’s crazy that she had kept her and Y/n together forever, in nostalgia. It’s crazy how she kept something that wasn’t there, alive. It’s crazy how close yet how far she was from her. It’s crazy that she watched Y/n from the crowd and wanted her despite the miles and years apart. It’s crazy that she would bury herself with this nostalgia, this illusion if it ever died. 

‘Together forever, nostalgia

It's crazy, baby, I want ya’

That little flame for their old dreams never died, they could always start chasing them again because they had kept it alive with the romance of missing the idea of the other. They had been kept together by sleeping in their nostalgia.

a/n: idk i just had to write this 'cause i love suki waterhouse, and nostalgia is just too good, need it injected into my veins, her every song tbh. hope it was enjoyable though since i really enjoyed writing it. i really appreciate the support, especially reblogs. love yall <3

masterlist

[milliesfishes]

୨ৎ⋆˚౨ৎ𝓡𝓲𝓫𝓫𝓸𝓷𝓼 (𝓐𝓬𝓽 𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮)౨ৎ˚⋆୨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: depression, control, mention of a past suicide attempt, angst, pairing: coriolanus snow x fem reader author’s note: this work contains topics that may be upsetting pertaining mental health, controlling relationships, depression, and suicide. This is probably one of the hardest things I've ever written. But I hope it's good :) 𝓟𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓑𝓸𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝓢𝓹𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓯𝔂 𝓟𝓵𝓪𝔂𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

Amor vincit omnia

The phrase in Latin was a part of your wedding vows, falling from your lips like a prayer as your utter devotion shone through at the altar. All you had seen was him, glowing with the light of love. He was yours. By all rights and now in the eyes of the law, you were forever bound.

How naive you had been. Starry eyed and innocent with new love. He could do no wrong because the only thing you saw him in the action of was loving you. All other things were behind closed doors he guarded heavily, sparing no mercy.

It was a love worse than death.

Apparently, the seaside had not healed you as permanently as had been hoped. And now, in the wake of the great, terrible secret you'd unearthed, a familiar shadow was settling back into your being, making itself at home and greeting you like a friend. And you let it.

Under lock and key, you kept your musings. Replaying your newly discovered memory over and over, you began to distrust yourself. How much else laid beneath your surface of consciousness, dictating your every move without your consent? And how many more were known by your husband?

Had Venus ever grown weary of her love? Of the constant weight of it? When she was birthed from the sea did her body shudder at the future that stretched ahead- one of endless feeling burdening her hours?

You still loved him. But love does not tie up loose ends. It frays them.

The glow of candlelight could not disguise the whispers clouding the atmosphere of the party like smoke, a low hum exhausting you on your feet. Coriolanus was speaking at length with a member of his advisory, and you weren't paying attention to the nature of his words.

It had been a trial to convince him to come to this one, and you'd held your breath for the entire car ride, nails crushing into your palms to keep yourself under control. But headlines from your brief appearance at the dinner last week had spurred your decision. No more mysterious declinations of invitations, no more avoiding the public.

You were nursing a glass of champagne, finger gliding the edge like an ice skater, eyes trained on the gilded wallpaper in the distance. The few conversations you'd attempted had been all but farces, stiffened words exchanged for the sake of your position. If it ever got back to Coriolanus that someone was purposefully rude, he would have their head.

Nearly subconsciously, his hand found yours, as if he could sense your discomfort. He parted ways with the acquaintance, turning to you attentively. Sliding his arm around your waist, he pressed a kiss to your hair as you leaned into him. "Is everything well?"

"Mhm." You nodded, tilting your head up to him. People were staring, not even trying to hide the fact that they were. But you ignored it, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "I'm okay."

"Good." He gave you a fond look, thumb rubbing up and down your waist. You held up your undrunk glass of champagne to him and he took it, bringing the liquid to his lips. Leaning down, he murmured. "We don't have to stay much longer."

You inhaled softly, resting your head on his shoulder briefly. "Don't ruin your night on my account. I'm the one who wanted to come."

"I'm glad we came." Coriolanus squeezed your side. "But we don't have to stay the whole time."

Deja vu was overwhelming you, bringing you back to the early days of your marriage. He was always checking in on you, always with a hand on you in some way. The thought made you smile just a bit.

The everything of everything was a burden unremedied by any attempted fix. You wore a mask of contentment, tried to pretend you were unbothered by what ailed you. It was useless, especially with him. You were an actress, but he was the director. The one who knew you best.

At home that evening, you removed your jewelry and unpinned your hair, the night heavy on your mind. You were unsure how many more stares and whispers and headlines you could take before your spine cracked under the weight of it all.

There was a knock on your door, and Coriolanus entered, half unbuttoned from the evening. You turned in your spot at the vanity, giving him a weary smile. He knelt at your side wordlessly, arms wrapped around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he watched you through the mirror.

You continued to unravel yourself from the night, his presence a comfort. It had been slow these past few days; the way you let him fall back into your life, fill the ache of the empty space that had gathered dust.

The place you held in his heart had always been achingly clear.

You were his apple of Eden, his Achilles' heel. If he was Orpheus, then you were Eurydice, only he never would have looked back. The amount of trust he held in you was astonishing, nearly dreamt up after all that you'd suffered. But you'd known from the beginning that Coriolanus did not mirror the actions of other men. Even if it was easy to lose his intentions in their translation, the emotion was always crystal.

Maybe he was a snake creeping into your heart. Maybe the threads of him couldn't be cut. You'd have thought all these things if you'd fallen in love with him after he became President.

But who he was now was the man you'd married, worn on with time. Fed too much power through a straw. Made to think he had the burden of every decision in the world. Loving you was likely the same for him. Somewhere inside resided the woman you once were.

There was a glimpse of him as he knelt by your side now. It'd been a habit of his for the past several days- checking on you before he trailed off to his separate bedroom. Something about the way he looked at you was scalding in the best way. Like his passion burned so bright under his skin that it radiated outward. There was a deep-seated yearning inside you for it. It was your ambrosia and now you were starving.

All you wanted was the man you loved. But heaven knew if he'd let you have him.

Shaking your hair free, you turned to him, hands sliding over his shoulders, leaning into his embrace. "Tonight was hard."

"It was." Coriolanus rubbed your side, and you twisted your body to fit better into his. Lips finding your temple, he closed his eyes. "You know we're not required to go to everything they invite us to?"

"With what the headlines are saying about me?" you murmured. "I think we are."

A kiss was pressed into your neck, and he shook his head against you. "We know the truth, sweetheart. That's all that matters."

"But I hate that everyone thinks..." you cut yourself off, breathing in and out, and his grip loosened, giving you some space while maintaining his presence. "Everyone thinks that I'm awful."

"No." His fingers crawled up your cheek, caressing the underside of your jaw. "You're not awful, darling."

"Everyone thinks I am," you lowered your eyes to the floor. "Everything we go to, they're talking about me, whispering about my spending and your bad taste in a wife."

"My wife," Coriolanus started, using his thumb to turn your cheek back, eyes boring into yours. "Is better than anyone realizes. Kinder, more forgiving..." he exhaled through his nose, searching your face. His other hand wove into your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear. "You...are a jewel among women."

Lips lifting ever so slightly, you moved forward, sheathing yourself fully in his arms. He held you close, touch as gentle as butterfly's wings. The solemn, soft silence of the night ensued, and you allowed yourself to become lost in it.

After a moment Coriolanus mumbled, "I'll leave you now. It's late." He began to untangle himself from you, but you grasped his arm. Looking at you with widened eyes, he froze. "Darling?"

Your lips parted slightly as you realized your action. But your body had determined what you wanted even before you did. And so you gathered your words. "Will...will you stay?"

Slightly surprised by it, he studied you for a moment as time stilled. You were lost in his touch, inspired by the outward vow of his heart. So true his devotion shone from the outside that it created a sunbeam you basked in. Slowly, your husband nodded, and then you were in his arms once more.

Safe and sound.

The sands of the next few weeks slipped through time's lofty hourglass, tickling your nose with how swiftly they moved. In the backdrop of the past, this had been rendered for the worst. A sign that you were drowning.

In the present it represented your coming back to life.

The unknown memory from before had been lifted from your shoulders, every frustration alleviated once you found the courage to work through it. You were in a unique situation where the problem had already been solved, but it felt new to you, lingering in your mind. Time was the only balm to your troubles, and you found it worked as well as anything could. The weight of the memory never grew lighter, you merely became stronger.

This was reflected in Coriolanus' eyes every time you looked at him, the way he watched your forged key unlock the vault of pain and suffering that encased your previous joy. It was nearly a trick of the light when one saw the person they loved getting better. Every time you smiled, he did the briefest of double takes, as if you were a ghost.

The littlest things began to delight you again, from the first rose budding in the garden to a tiny pale butterfly floating in the gentle breeze. Things that seemed to have escaped your notice for months.

As you rediscovered every wonder of the world, you could feel him watching you. Feel him drinking in the way you became yourself again.

It did not escape your notice that the grasp of change had found him too.

He let go, left you to explore life as you wished, did not limit your bounds as before. You were free to go out on your own again, to call on old friends and find a place in the tumultuous waters of the Capitol once again. Every night when you came home, he greeted you with a gentle kiss, asking about your day but never prying. Coriolanus set you free in a way. Whatever emotions borne of his power from before had dissipated, and now the one you loved was blooming as you were.

You would never be the people you were again. The newlyweds were lost to the dust of the past, mere reflections. Too long had you mourned what had once been pointlessly. The pair of you were like swans, drawn to each other, emerged from your hopeless metamorphic state.

In the wake of all that had come to pass, you were well aware that if you asked for a divorce or an annulment, he would give it to you. And you would be lying if you said you hadn't considered it.

Coriolanus Snow had trapped you, lied to you. He had held you down in the pits of despair even if it was unknowingly, had protected you to the point of suffocation though he thought it was the right thing.

But he had also saved you. He'd taken responsibility for the fallout of his actions and striven to make it better, to earn back your trust. Every time you broke it was him who knelt and put you back together. Through the public's scrutiny and backlash, he had spared no effort to heal you. In this way he had never shifted from the one you loved to begin with.

What were you both if not two broken people, shielded by the tapestries you wove for the sake of each other? The President and the Husband. The Bride and the Aftermath. All this time you'd been viewing them all as versions trapped. But the threads lost their luster and came undone.

It was all layered like the petals of a rose, dripping with a different kind of virginal blood pooling from the wound of the past instilled in each of you. For the first time you felt the desire to begin stitching it back up. You were tired of hurting. You wanted to love.

One morning at breakfast, over your pomegranate, you started subtly, sliding your hand over to his and rubbing his knuckles. He looked up from his morning paper in surprise but turned his palm over to squeeze your fingers. "Sweetheart?"

Leaning your chin on your palm, you blinked up at him. "What would you think if we took some time away together? Just the two of us?"

He set his paper down, searching your eyes. "Where would we go?"

A sweet smile lightened you. "The seaside, maybe?" Coriolanus opened his mouth, his brows furrowed, but you shook your head, cutting him off. "It's okay. I just want you to see it because I love it."

His face softened, and you stood, kicking off your shoes and sliding into his lap. His hands were like magnets to your waist, though their touch was tentative. You could have melted with how careful he was being with you, not trying to push you in any way.

Once you were settled, you curled into him, playing with his collar and murmuring, "I want you to know all the things I love again."

There it was. The spot where you bridged the gap between past and present, smoothing out the course for the future. All he had to do was accept.

Accompanied by the softest of breaths, like a whisper, he nodded. And your smile reappeared, growing even then. "We can do it?"

"Of course." He kissed your temple. "It sounds perfect."

Quiet followed as you rested your head on his shoulder, but you found you did not mind. There was trust that came with silence with another person, the knowledge that they enjoy your mere presence. It had been terribly long since you'd felt that so completely with him.

You fiddled with the pearls on your collarbone, the ones that had arrived on your bedside table the day after the dinner party. Your heart stuttered, and that singular, beautiful feeling built up in your chest. Everything you wanted to tell him, everything you felt he should hear. It swirled and hurricaned until the words escaped in a way you would have forced them to anyways.

"I love you."

Where Coriolanus' fingers had been stroking your side paused, and you used the opportunity to lift your head. Before he could say a word, you shifted to face him better. Taking his face in your hands, you softly said, "We've been through hell and back, haven't we? And I think I've felt every emotion possible towards you. But it all ends the same, doesn't it? It's all stemming from the same place."

He breathed in, cerulean eyes reflecting your beloved ocean, your home always. Maybe your time at the seaside had been so healing because in that way he'd never left you. "My love..."

Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his tenderly, holding his cheek in your soft hand. He seemed to hesitate, but then his mouth was moving, kissing you the way he always had, the way you were sure was the only way he knew how. With all the raw, wonderful passion that hadn't dimmed for even a moment even through all these months.

You rested your forehead against his and took in a breath. It'd been so long since you'd kissed or been kissed. He seemed dazed, holding your face in his hands. Making sure you were looking at him, he ghosted his lips over yours once more. "I don't deserve you."

"I love you anyways."

"I'm imperfect. Everything I've done...all the pain I've caused..."

"And yet." You kissed him again for a moment suspended in time, like the dust in the air brought to view by a sunbeam, like a quiet afternoon in his arms. "I love you."

"My sweetheart," Coriolanus murmured, brushing his lips over your cheek, your nose, your jaw. "If you want me to love you I will. If you don't want that, I'll pretend not to. There was never a time I didn't." He caught your mouth again. "And there will never be a time I don't." His hand found the back of your head, eyes holding you in place, your gravity to the earth. You held him there, the crux of your womanhood, the one true love of your life.

The work was far from over. The road was long and forever. But here in his arms you felt complete as you ever had, more yourself when you loved than when you hated.

You were free. Free to love. Free to be whole.

[fangirleaconmigo]

Geraskier

So you know how Jaskier (Viscount Julian) left home and changed his name and since he’s always short on cash, one would assume he was cut off (or cut himself off) from the family fortune?

So what if when his parents finally pass away and and he comes into a substantial amount of money, it is right about the time Geralt is really starting to feel the wear and tear on his body and wonder whether he can be a witcher for much longer, and he’s feeling anxious and melancholic about it but hasn’t admitted that to anyone.

But then he gets an invitation from his dearest friend Jaskier to join him on the coast at a cottage for some rest and recovery.

And when he shows up and drops his bags, he is instantly in love with the place. It seems like something he would build himself. Its decorated with items from their many years of travels. Ciri’s first wooden sword is hung on the wall. There is swallow imagery reflecting her as well, in the paintings and etchings. There are buttercups interwoven with wolves.

When Jaskier takes his things, there are hooks and contraptions that are perfectly shaped to hold his swords and armor without scratching or damaging them. The table and chairs are his perfect height. There is even a fireplace styled just like the one at Kaer Morhen, evoking the memories of many nights drinking with Eskel, Lambert, Coën, and Vesemir.

Jaskier hugs him so tightly he coughs, but it warms his heart and he forgets about his melancholy. Then Jaskier leads him by the hand and takes him to the back garden and his brothers and friends and most thrillingly of all, his daughter, are all sitting around with ale and they shout and toast him.

After he is kissed by Ciri and squeezed in many strong arms, he takes Jaskier aside. By then it is dark and the candles and torches are twinkling illuminating the tables where all the war stories are being told with laughter and copious amounts of swearing.

“What is the occasion, Jaskier? What’s going on? When did you buy this place?”

Jaskier looks at him with so much love and fondness, Geralt’s knees feel weak. Its getting harder and harder to hide these damndable feelings for his dearest friend.

“I didn’t buy it.” He says. “I built it.”

“You built it.”

“Well. I paid someone to build it. Obviously. The important question, though, is whether you like it.”

“I do,” says Geralt. “I love it.“

“Good. Because I built it for you. And the occasion is your retirement, or semi-retirement, if you desire it.”

It takes a good half hour to convince Geralt that Jaskier is not joking with him or teasing him. Jaskier places a key in his hand with a wolf etched on it. Geralt walks around the house in a daze. Jaskier follows behind with a gleeful smile. Like Geralt imagines mothers look on their children’s birthdays and they’ve given them the pony they’ve aways wanted. When the tightness has cleared from Geralt’s throat and he isn’t afraid he’ll sound emotional, he speaks.

“Jaskier,” he says, “why? Why would you do this for me?”

“Because,” Jaskier answers, “you deserve it. You’re always doing for others.”

Geralt feels the tightness in his throat again. He looks into his dearest friend’s eyes and his hands stray to Jaskier’s hips of their own accord.

He has never touched him this way. But he is overcome. Not thinking.

Jaskier smiles. “And because I love y—-“

He does not finish the word because Geralt is kissing him.

Ciri and Zoltan have wandered into the kitchen to look for another barrel of ale and the see the two of them kissing.

Ciri whoops and starts clapping. Zoltan mutters “its about godsdamn time.” Geralt’s ears turn red. Jaskier grins proudly.

Geralt has never felt more content. But he still teases Jaskier relentlessly before he invites him to move in with him.

“Its pretty lonely in this place.”

“You know, no reason I bring this up, but I have always wanted to live on the coast…”

“Maybe I should hire a butler, so the house isn’t so quiet…”

“I loathe you, witcher.”

“Actually, I have it on good authority that you love me.”

Geralt does that for a day or two, teasing between kisses, pretending he doesn’t understand what Jaskier is hinting at in the afterglow, for Geralt to invite him to move in.

They set up two chairs on the porch where they can see the waves and sit next to each other, Jaskier fiddling with his lute and notebook, Geralt nursing his wine.

And it is more than he had ever dared to dream.

[djarins-cyare]

Never Look Down

Part 2: Maia’s (Your) Morning

← Part 1 | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Prompt: “I don’t know what’s happening but I love it.”

Summary: Din has been ignoring his crush on Grogu’s babysitter for a while now, with varying degrees of success. But after a misunderstanding leads to some revelations, there’s no denying things any longer. Sometimes you just need to look at things from a different perspective.

Rating: Mature (18+)

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (for his POV scenes) / Din Djarin x Reader (for her POV scenes)

Word count: 7,830

Tags/warnings: POV switch, hangover hell, light angst, confessions, even more references to erections, some swearing, references to sex, kissing, reference to fellatio, a lot of fluff, Reader has a name (and a job and an inkling of a backstory). Regarding her prior bad relationship, I don’t want anyone to be triggered by an assumption, so please note she was NOT in an abusive situation. Her former partner was just a drug-dealing douche.

Author’s note: I finished something new! [*cries in disbelief*] 😭. Thank you so much for your interest and support! 💖

READ ON AO3 (author’s preference)

Tumblr version ahead if you prefer…

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You wake up somewhere dark and soft. It takes you several seconds to realise where you are due to the throbbing ache in your head that’s screaming for focus.

You’re in Din’s bed.

Oh fuck.

Well… more like no fuck. A shameful absence thereof.

Slowly, memories of the previous night drift to the surface of your foggy brain, each one deepening your embarrassment until you’ve reached the pitiful depths of utter humiliation. It cuts deeper than your hangover, which includes a pounding headache and a bruised shoulder (how did that happen?), yet is almost trivial in comparison. Kark, you drank – and said and did – a lot more than you should’ve.

Babysitting Grogu is not your primary source of income. In fact, you have a contract with Karga for city planning and infrastructure upgrades. But that’s just building holos, presenting them to the High Magistrate, and then outsourcing the work upon approval. It’s sporadic and flexible, leaving you with plenty of hours to kill. You took this part-time job to keep yourself busy, but you’ve come to enjoy hanging out with the little guy and his bafflingly sexy father. Both are good fun, have always been friendly and welcoming, and you’re fond of their company. Who are you kidding – you’re profoundly attached to them both. Plus, Din has taught you to use a blaster, helping you feel safer and more self-reliant now you’re free of your ex’s ‘protection’. The extra credits are merely a bonus, and you’d do this for free if it came to it.

Well, not this. Not turn up drunk, pass out in your boss’s refresher, then misread a gesture of kindness as a sexual advance. And you just had to fucking let your thoughts spill out, didn’t you? Shit, you basically told him you think he’s a virgin! Sure, you’ve wondered, but you’ve never drawn any conclusions, so why did you have to vocalise those thoughts as if you had? You’ve been so careful to avoid suggesting his commitment to his creed might be impeding anything fun. So what if he can’t eat with you or sleep with you – that’s his choice. He probably thinks you’re judging him now. You shouldn’t have opened your mouth, damn it!

Of course he rejected you.

How could you ever have thought Din would want to be with you after everything you did last night? There are so many reasons for him to have walked away like he did. Not only did you fail to provide trustworthy childcare, but you also vomited in his toilet and were a drunken burden on him after he’d had to go out on a job. Then you assumed he wanted sex, implied he might not have the requisite skills, stripped naked, climbed under his sheets, and stole his fucking bed for the whole night.

You’re a disgrace. The regret burns in your chest, branding you from the inside out as the fool who pushed a former bounty hunter too far.

Plus, you work for the guy, so that’s surely a factor. Your role here is simply to take care of his kid. At least it was. And, of course, he’s never shown any interest in you. In fact, whenever you’ve wondered if the two of you are having ‘a moment’, he’s always run away.

Why did you have to make an already bad situation so much worse by revealing your desires? You were coping fine with your self-imposed celibacy. Sure, it was frustrating, but you were surviving. Repressing your libido around him was working for you.

As much as you want to hide beneath the blankets and avoid the fallout, you know you can’t stay in Din’s bed forever. Even though it’s soft and warm and smells like him – fresh yet with a hint of spicy musk. You really can’t.

Fumbling to activate the lamp, you drain the water on the nightstand, noting your clothes strewn across the floor. Thankfully, they don’t smell of alcohol or vomit (at least you’re a tidy drunk), so you get dressed and stumble to the refresher. More memories return at that crime scene, adding to your shame spiral and giving you a likely reason for your bruised shoulder.

Din has left his ultrasound cleaner out of the cabinet, which has to be a suggestion that you use it, and you can take a hint. You recall complaining that your mouth tasted like bantha balls, and accepting his pity is the lesser evil. Though it’s far more than you deserve, it’s also far better than this flavour.

You gladly let the vibrations clean your mouth and then rinse away the residue, feeling much better for it. It’s not enough to ease your thumping headache, but it’s a start.

You can’t hear any noise from upstairs or across the hall, so you wonder if your hosts are still asleep. It’s clearly past dawn since daylight is spilling down the staircase, but it could still be early. Maybe you can just slip out unnoticed? You debate checking on Grogu first. Din probably slept on the couch, though there’s a cushioned chair in the kid’s room that he could’ve used.

Guilt and concern make you check on your charge despite the risk of waking a metal sentinel. But you’re surprised to discover an empty room. That means they’re either both upstairs and being quiet, or they’ve gone out. You’re hoping for the latter. Zandi insisted you meet her for lunch, but part of you wants to run straight to your friend’s place and cry about what an idiot you’ve been. Hmm, no. You should go home for a shower first. Not that it could wash off the disgrace, but it might ease your aching head, at least.

You dart across the hall for your shoes, straightening out your boss’s sheets before you leave (a token apology, if anything). Catching sight of a comb on top of his dresser sends another type of guilt burning through you. Stealing his bed was already an invasion of privacy, but learning about what he hides beneath the beskar feels worse. You anxiously smooth down the blankets, flick off the lamp, and tiptoe up the stairs.

Thankfully, you find an empty living space, lit by sunshine so bright that you realise it’s already mid-morning. Din must have taken Grogu to school.

There’s no sign of your glowrod, but you don’t care. He can keep it. You shove on your boots with as much haste as you can manage and fly to the exit, darting through. Kriff, it’s so blinding outside that you have to turn your back to the sun or risk your hangover increasing tenfold.

Just as you’re gulping lungfuls of fresh air and keying in the lock code to secure the cabin, you hear him.

“Feeling better?”

The Mandalorian steps out from behind the cabin, and you wonder if he’s been waiting to ambush you. Damn it, you should’ve known. Bounty hunter.

You can’t look him in the eyes. Well, the visor, really. Either way, you fix your gaze on the porch. You’d normally come out with something playful and witty, but today, your brain gives you nothing except wry honesty.

“The hangover and torturous headache are nothing compared to my embarrassment,” you answer sheepishly. “I am so sorry about last night.”

You don’t specify which part because you mean all of it. Drinking to excess and throwing up in his home, as well as climbing into his bed, stripping off, and assuming he would fuck you, then commenting on how you thought he couldn’t fuck you. You’re sure you’ll never live down this shame.

Din doesn’t respond to your apology, but he steps forward, a wall of beskar and muscle blocking you from leaving the porch. He leans past you – so close he almost traps you against the door – and reverses the lock code you just entered.

When the door behind you swishes open again, he gestures inside with a nod. “We gotta talk.”

Oh, frotz, this is bad. This is so so so bad. He’s normally relaxed and happy around you, welcoming (or at least tolerating) your friendly jokes and nicknames. But right now, he’s all stiffness and silence, thumbs in his belt and elbows out wide, staring you down as if you were prey. He is not happy with you. You’ve fucked up bad.

You’re going to lose your job. It’s not a substantial source of income, but you’ll lose your bonding time with the kid and the friendly teasing thing you’ve developed with his dad. You won’t get to watch how strong and beautiful this warrior-turned-father is anymore, how soft he is with Grogu, despite his hard beskar shell. There’ll be no more shooting lessons. He’s going to tell you how offensive your remarks were last night… kark, what if he has a duty to punish anyone who disrespects his creed? Is it disrespectful to suggest he can’t have sex, though? Maybe the offensive thing was you throwing yourself at him. Or perhaps he thinks you’re hideous and finds the idea of having sex with you offensive. Whatever the case, he’s going to—

“Maia….”

Hearing your name growled through his modulator snaps you out of your spiralling thoughts, and you realise you’re just standing there gawking at him in the doorway.

Suddenly, you feel meek in his presence, which has never happened before. Even when you first met, he was careful to make you feel safe and welcome. This menacing demeanour is new.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Can I just go home?”

Din looms closer like a rancor threatening its prey. “This won’t take long,” he insists.

With widened eyes, you shrink back toward the scene of your crimes, your near freedom now a fool’s delusion. He walks forward as you step backward across the cabin’s threshold, maintaining the proximity – a fateful dance that promises a morning even more tragic than the night before.

“Sit,” he commands, gesturing to the couch. He watches you perch yourself where you’re told to and then nods, appeased by your obedience.

A heavy silence clouds the room as your soon-to-be-ex boss flicks on the caf maker and heats the beverage while you quietly unravel on the couch. You’re not even sure what this is. It feels like he’s about to punish you (and not in a good way), but you have no idea how. Is he going to yell at you? Torture you with some kind of ritualistic Mandalorian justice? Or is he just going to describe how disappointed he is, fire you from this job, and threaten to roast you with his flamethrowers if he catches you anywhere near Grogu?

Whatever’s about to happen, you’re zealously ignoring the part of you that’s low-key turned on by how dominant he’s acting this morning. You can’t examine that right now.

After a minute or two, Din brings a cup to the couch and perches beside you, performing an awkward shuffle as he angles his body toward you. Still unsure how to act, you remain facing straight ahead, watching him in your peripheral.

He’s fully armoured this morning, his movements determined but stiff, and you recall how fluidly his body moved when he was just down to his flight suit. When he swept you into his arms, cradled you against his chest, and carried you to his bed…

No! Bad thoughts! Now is not the time for those because you’re about to receive the worst reprimand of your life (and you work for Karga!).

But your brain won’t stop replaying the memory, leading you to a distracting notion. He keeps his armour on the shelves in his bedroom – you saw it there last night. That means he must have come in to grab it this morning while you were sleeping. Damn, he’s stealthy! Though, to be fair, you were utterly passed out.

Wait. You woke up fully covered and tucked in. You don’t recall falling asleep, but you do remember arranging the blanket for optimum cleavage display. Kark, you really hope you snuggled down properly in your sleep. Because if not, there’s a chance that he opened his door to an inadvertent boob extravaganza, and he covered you up for the sake of your dignity. Fuck! How much shame can you suffer in a single morning?

He still hasn’t started talking, so before your thoughts ricochet in yet another distressing direction, you prompt, “You, uh, said we need to talk?” It’s probably best to confront your impending doom so you can run home and scream into a pillow.

Din huffs a little. “We do. Doesn’t mean I know how to start.”

Hmm, well, he doesn’t seem too angry, at least. Perhaps there won’t be any Mandalorian torture-based vengeance after all.

You don’t have the energy to play ‘guess the punishment’, but maybe you can stave it off if you beg for mercy. “Okay, then let me start. I said and did some monumentally stupid things last night, and I understand if you can’t forgive me and never want to see me again. But I just need you to know how truly sorry I am and that I really didn’t mean to offend you, and if I could—”

“Stop apologising,” he interrupts, shaking his helmet.

His order startles you into silence. It was insistent, but he didn’t sound angry at all. In fact, there was an undertone of something else. Almost the amused side of frustrated. What the kriff is happening?

Din sighs and tilts his visor toward his lap, then seems surprised to realise he’s still clutching the caf he made but clearly can’t drink in your presence. He silently offers you the steaming cup, and after a beat, you accept it, staring at it just as he did.

Never has a cup of caf received as much scrutiny as when two parties are unsure how to vocalise their thoughts.

“I made it for you,” he offers. “Thought… with the hangover….”

“Thanks,” you mumble, unsure what else to do or say. This isn’t going as expected at all, and your confusion is only growing. Is he doing some kind of bounty hunter ‘killing with kindness’ act?

This is absurd. You just need to get him talking, accept your punishment, and then you can escape.

“Um,” you begin, and his shadowed visor fixes on you again, unsettling you further. “If… if you don’t want to hear my apologies… what do you want to talk about?”

Your reluctant host forces out his response like it’s stuck inside his throat. “I want… I wanna ask you… some things. And I need you to answer honestly.”

Your stomach churns with nerves. He has questions? He must want you to explain what you said. He’s going to make you relive it – not by telling you how offensive you were, but by making you deconstruct your own comments and actions.

Kark. It’s a punishment, alright.

But if the penalty for your folly is the discomfort of explaining yourself, you can deal with that. This is a man you’re used to teasing, and he sounds just as unsure about what to say here as you are. So, you need to gather your confidence and endure whatever awkwardness this brings up.

You square your shoulders and lift your chin. “Okay… ask me.”

“You’ll answer? Honestly?” There’s an edge of desperation in Din’s voice from which you intuit his real meaning. You need to check any joking at the door.

Well, your current embarrassment level is sky-high, so whatever he wants you to respond to or admit surely can’t be much worse. You’ve already laid yourself (literally) bare for him. “I will. You got a slice of my inner dialogue last night, so I might as well continue the honesty.”

“Good… thank you.” He releases a profound sigh, a rush of static through the vocoder, and appears to gather himself for his first question. “Why do you think my creed means I can’t…?” He trails off, but you follow his meaning and match his heavy sigh.

“I don’t really think that,” you assure him. “Honestly, I’ve never known what to think, which means I’ve made no assumptions either way. But I guess… my drunken brain felt it was… safer to err on the side of caution when addressing it out loud.”

You’re not in the least bit surprised that he’s starting with this. If he is a virgin, you’ve mocked him, and if he isn’t, you’ve no doubt hurt his pride.

When he doesn’t respond, you suggest, “If that’s your first question, it sounds like you’re worried I’m judging you, so let me reinforce what I just said. ‘No assumptions’ means ‘no judgments’. But if you want to clarify things, I can promise you that whatever the truth is, I still won’t judge you.”

The importance Din is giving this topic is by far the biggest clue to the likely truth. No virgin would question you in the way that he just did. If they mentioned it at all, they’d probably just insist it’s not a topic for you to concern yourself with and never speak of it again. But inviting him to confirm his expertise gives him an easy way to lay the matter to rest. It’s also the kindest thing to do in the wake of your drunken foolishness.

He nods a fraction, accepting the premise, pausing while he chooses his words. “My creed doesn’t impose any rules relating to that, only that I cannot remove my helmet. And… some people kind of, uh… they get off on the mystery. So I do pretty well when I need to… blow off some steam.”

Huh. That was surprisingly direct (for him). You can’t help but smile, wondering if your delight stems from finally having proof that he isn’t without experience or that this discussion (so far) isn’t about how badly you fucked up.

Hoping to conceal your thoughts and keep the focus on him, you instantly slide back into teasing mode with a new nickname and a vague compliment of sorts. “Super Stud! You’re very discreet.”

“That’s the idea,” he confirms, ignoring his new moniker. “Although it’s by no means frequent, and since I got Grogu, I haven’t had….” He clears his throat. “Time and opportunity are rare.”

As much as you wish Din would choose to ‘blow off some steam’ with you, all you hear is a chance to atone for last night’s thoughtless actions. “I can take care of him while you go have some fun…?”

A massive scoff comes through the vocoder, and he shakes his helmet widely. “No, Maia, that’s… that’s not gonna work.”

But you persist, desperate to make amends. “Oh, come on, Metal Man, you deserve a break. Isn’t there anyone on Nevarro you can call for some fun?”

He sighs. “I have… options, yes.”

You furrow your brow at that. “So why did you say time and opportunity are rare? If you’ve got options, why don’t you just get your shiny ass laid while I do what you pay me for and take care of—”

A distinctly peeved huff crackles through the modulator, and you instantly fall silent. You forgot you’re not supposed to be teasing. Nor is it clear yet whether you still have a job. Foot, meet mouth.

He curtly redirects you. “Next question.” You assent with a nod, but when he continues, his tone is suddenly guarded and awkward. “Last night, you said… you suggested… that you and I might… blow off some steam.”

Fuck, this is the part you were dreading, and your pulse picks up. He seems nervous. Is that good or bad? Well, it’s better than angry and scary. You try to freeze your movements to avoid either wincing or looking too eager, nervously awaiting his question.

“Was that… because of the alcohol? Or… something, uh… real?” All you detect in his voice is discomfort, so you can’t tell which option he hopes for.

You sigh and take a careful slurp of the scalding hot caf to buy yourself time. It’s hard to answer because there’s a lot at risk. If you’re too honest about your feelings and Din doesn’t feel the same way, your relationship might end – professional as well as personal.

But once again, the fact that he’s asking suggests your answer is important to him, so the odds are likely in your favour. If he wasn’t attracted to you, surely he’d play it down and give you a way to save face. Just say he knew your silly drunken advances were simply an extension of your usual urge to tease and meant nothing, and that he forgives you for them. Surely he wouldn’t ask if they were ‘real’.

The concept sparks a tiny flame of hope in a dark and dusty corner of your mind, a pinprick of light to chase away the fears you walked in here with.

However, you can’t be too hasty or draw conclusions without facts. Though this isn’t going as dreadfully as you feared it might, the sensible option is to avoid getting your hopes up. He asked you for honesty, so you’ll give him that, but you decide to err on the side of caution again. An assumption against any interest on his part shouldn’t be offensive.

“It wasn’t… totally the alcohol,” you confess cautiously, and you see his body instantly tense up. Is that a positive reaction? “I’ve been trying to remember exactly what I said to you. I told you it was a ‘dream’, right?” Din nods once. “Well… that’s true. I admit I’ve had some daydreams about the idea. But it felt… safer not to mention it. Last night, you made it clear you weren’t interested in me, and you’ve never given me any reason to think otherwise, so I—”

“I did no such thing.”

Shit. The anger you were afraid of is finally colouring the Mandalorian’s tone, and he leans forward with his vehement denial.

What did you say wrong? Did you tease too soon with the new nickname just now? Shock and confusion contort themselves across your face, and you shrink backward.

He almost growls at your retreat, and the creak of his leather gloves as he clenches his fists has you bracing yourself for trouble. You honestly can’t tell if you’re turned on or terrified.

Before you can decide, he declares, “Last night, I had to walk away from a beautiful naked woman in my bed because she’d been drinking, and I would never do anything without full consent. I did not make it clear I wasn’t interested in you. Fuck, Maia, I have dreams about you too. All the time.”

Your mouth hangs open in surprise. Even knowing it was vaguely possible, you weren’t ready for that response.

He has dreams about you too!

Now that he’s confessed what got him so worked up, you see him make a visible effort to calm down.

His next words are much softer, soothing your prior unease, though your heart continues to thump from his admission. “Time and opportunity are rare because you’re Grogu’s babysitter, and that kid loves you. When he’s not with me, he wants to be with you. He only goes to school twice a week. That’s not a lot of time or—”

“—or opportunity,” you finish. “Okay, I get it. Why didn’t you say anything before? We could’ve been blowing off steam on schooldays for months already, but I had no idea. I would’ve climbed naked into your bed way sooner if I’d known.”

Din groans, a low and sinful rumble, and you wonder if you shouldn’t have put those images in his mind.

A deep breath later, he answers, “My son is my priority; his needs come before mine. He needs a good babysitter more than I need a good… uh….” He trails off and clears his throat. “And last night was the first time you’d ever said anything. I had no idea either.”

“But, but…” you stammer. Okay, so you’ve been keeping it to yourself, but you’re surprised he didn’t pick up on your attraction at all. “I’m flirting and checking you out all the crinking time, Metal Man. I thought bounty hunters were observant?”

He hums as if he’s flattered by your admission. “Teasing me is not a sign of anything on its own. And I’ve never seen you look anywhere other than directly at my helmet. You would’ve noticed my interest otherwise.” You furrow your brow slightly, not following, and he shakes his head in frustration. “You never look down.”

You look down.

Holy mother of meteors…

That is one obscenely snug flight suit and one fucking impressive erection.

Granted, you’ve noticed he’s been wearing the loose flight suit pants more often. In fact, you’ve missed being able to check out his toned ass in the closer-fitting ones. But since you can’t see where he’s looking, you’ve always been careful to keep your roving eyes chaste whenever he’s facing you. And, kriff, you never figured the reason for his wardrobe change was to hide this glorious attribute.

“Wow,” you breathe, unsure of what else to say. Suddenly, the volume on your headache reduces, and your lust levels shoot up. It’s so….

Din fidgets slightly, perhaps on edge because of your sudden scrutiny. Oops.

You revert your gaze to his visor, chancing some levity to ease the tension. “If I wasn’t fighting a skull-splitting hangover, I’d have a whole host of new nicknames for you already. Something about being as hard as beskar or carrying a concealed weapon… ugh, gimme a day, I’ll come up with a winner.”

His chuckle suggests the ice between you is now well and truly broken. You knock back the rest of your caf in the relaxed pause. It’s still hotter than you prefer, but perhaps it’ll quell your desire.

He lets you finish before breaking the easy silence. “Another question before you go, if it’s okay. Maybe a couple more, depending on how you answer the first one. I’d rather not leave this topic hanging now that we’ve addressed it.”

“Sure.” Right now, you’re willing to give this man whatever he wants.

“Okay. There’s another reason I walked away last night – besides your drunken state. It’s why I haven’t mentioned this before.” He swallows and inhales shakily. “You told me that your last relationship was terrible. And the fact that you chose to celebrate its end tells me you value your freedom. On my side, my relationships are rarely meaningful or long-term. So it might seem easiest to keep things casual.”

He pauses, but it’s unclear whether he wants your input. You can’t tell where he’s going with this, so you give him a one-shouldered shrug.

He leans forward and rests his vambraces on his cuisses. “If Grogu wasn’t around, it might be. But casual never ends well, and I will not threaten the bond you two have just for something meaningless. For the child’s sake, we gotta be sure where we stand before we… act on any of this. I can’t do casual with you, Maia. So the first question is: are you interested enough to try something… meaningful? Because if you’re not, we gotta bury this.”

He’s right. You start to understand why he got so worked up at your admission that you’re attracted to him for real. It complicates things.

He’s asked a logical and vital question, and you take a moment to give it due attention. Whatever happens, this cannot threaten your employment. So where are the lines?

You’ve felt something for Din from the start, and your attraction has only grown. That line is already blurred, and it hasn’t threatened anything, but it helps you see what he’s getting at. Your attachment to him and Grogu has become far more profound than you expected, so you couldn’t do casual even if you tried. It could only harm your bond with the kid if you tried to repress that attachment and keep things casual with his father.

Simply put, your feelings are already meaningful, so whatever comes next must be too.

Strangely, that doesn’t scare you. Your prior experience was poor – both oppressive and neglectful – but you were a displaced teenager on a new planet looking for protection when you got into that. Din is nothing like your ex, and this couldn’t be more different. You have faith in this man and, thus, faith in your answer.

“I am,” you confirm with a smile. “Are you?” He’s already confirmed he won’t do casual, but you need his agreement to start something meaningful.

He swallows, then echoes, “I am.”

A thrilling but weighty moment passes as you both digest this, just staring at one another in the wake of your mutual confessions. The air feels charged with promise. You can almost taste it.

It’s hard to judge how long has passed when he speaks again. “Second question. Did you use my ultrasound cleaner?”

Well, that’s a non sequitur. You have no idea how this query relates to your previous answer, but you nod nonetheless.

“Great. Come with me.”

He stands and leads you downstairs, stepping into his room and tapping on the main lights. When he sees that you’ve made his bed, he hums happily.

You’re quiet but hopeful, the heady feeling of promise that consumed you last night slowly filling you up once more as he turns to face you and beckons you closer.

“We should take this slow,” he starts. “You’re hungover, and I want you to feel comfortable when we….” He nods at the bed, oddly still reticent to describe the act.

“When we fuck.”

Din releases the cutest whimper and tugs at his pants. “That is not helping me with this problem. If you keep talking like that, I might not be able to resist,” he warns.

You scoff. “Shiny, are you really trying to threaten me with sex? Kriff, please tell me you didn’t use this tactic on any bounties back in the day.”

“No, I did not. And I’m trying to save that until your head doesn’t hurt,” he sighs. “But… question three. Before you go home, can I… kiss you?”

Your eyebrows shoot up as surprise and desire collide and carve a messy path through your chest, sending your heart tumbling into a double-time beat.

“Are you…” You’re not quite sure how to phrase your query, still chagrined by last night’s verbal blunders. “Is that some kind of metaphor? Does ‘kissing’ mean something different for Mandalorians with the whole helmet thing? Because if we’re just gonna thumb wrestle or something, I’m still in, but it’s kind of weird to call it kissing.”

He chuckles, and it eases your worry. “We do have a kissing substitute, but no, in this case, I meant what I said. I just gotta turn the lights out so you can’t see me when I remove my helmet. If that’s okay.”

All of your fears and concerns melt away with his answer. Gone are your worries about your budding romance having awkward or difficult restrictions, replaced by a certainty that you can handle not making eye contact. If observing that single caveat allows you to be with this man, you don’t even consider it a sacrifice.

Well, if he brought you down here to ensure it’s dark enough, you can help with that. You saunter to the door and touch the control to slide it closed, blocking out the sunshine filtering down the stairs, and then you turn to him with a smile. “It’s very okay. I’m not leaving here without a kiss, Din.”

He sucks in a modulated breath and doesn’t move for a second. “You… used my name.”

You know you’re allowed to – he’s told you that many times – but you find the nicknames help to maintain a friendly distance. Treat him as a friend, not as a lover. Except now things are changing.

“I thought I’d practice,” you explain. “I’m guessing that when we do get in that bed together, you’d prefer I scream out your real name instead of ‘Shiny’ or ‘Beskar Boy’.”

He groans sinfully again and reaches for you, fixing a glove around your wrist and tugging you to stand beside the shelves he stores his armour on. “Don’t move,” he instructs. Then he releases your wrist and taps a button on his vambrace, and the lights very slowly fade out until the room is darker than the void between galaxies.

Suddenly, sensations are everything. You can detect the warmth of Din’s body so close to yours, though you’re not yet touching. You hear him breathing more audibly than usual, a gentle but slightly stuttered hiss through the vocoder. You feel the air swirl around you as he raises his hands to his helmet…

The rhythmic thump of your heartbeat quickens, and despite your lack of sight, it’s as if the events occur in flashes between the beats. The absence of sound as you hold your breath. The gentle rustle as he slides off the metal helmet. The muffled clang when it hits the shelf as he lines it up. The scrape of the edge as he pushes it home. The nervous breath he releases in the subsequent silence, reminding you to exhale too.

Then he’s reaching for you, and your mind goes blank as his hands find your hips, closing the distance further. It’s not close enough to feel his arousal against you, although that’s probably wise. But if you weren’t still harbouring a headache, you’d be unable to resist pressing forward and seeking the impressive bulge you admired upstairs. Instead, you lay your palms on his cuirass and slide upward, burying your fingers in his cloak. That’s as high as you’ll go until you know what’s allowed.

One of Din’s gloved hands engulfs the nape of your neck, and you love how he’s controlling this, moving you in the dark to where he wants you. You can tell he’s leaned in closer by the sound of his breathing – more audible without the beskar barrier. Then there’s a sense of warmth on your skin as he brings you close enough to nuzzle at your hairline, gently at first, until you register the distinct press of his nose against your temple.

You feel it just before he speaks, his breath tickling near your ear as he opens his mouth to husk smooth, unmodulated words. “Go easy on me; it’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

Fuck, his voice is gorgeous. It resonates through you like a rumbling storm, drenching you with wanton promise, unleashing a different wetness upon you. If there were any frequency that could subdue your headache, it would be his soft and smoky timbre.

“Oh?” It’s all you can manage; a single syllable of surprise at his admission. He seems so confident.

“Mm,” he confirms, brushing his lips softly near the corner of your eye, and you detect some stubble around them. “Before we swear the Creed, we spend a while doing the things we’re taught to avoid after. I’ve only used this loophole once since then. So….” He trails off and presses a gentle kiss to the crest of your cheekbone, warm lips on soft skin, and you melt in his arms.

You want to assure him that he’s nailing it, preparing you so perfectly that he seems like an expert kisser, no matter how little practice he’s had. You want to thank him for deeming you worthy enough to use this rare loophole and express your stunned gratitude at the privilege he’s allowing you. But the notion of speaking confounds you, and all you can do is lift your chin and indicate your willingness to do this.

Din gets the message.

You can sense his nerves in the way he cautiously presses his lips against yours. But in the millisecond it takes to register a connection, your body reacts before your brain and electricity shoots through your nerve endings. Instantly, thousands of perfect explosions stud your skin, making you shiver in bliss.

He’s sweet, gentle, respectful… and it’s good. But it’s a little chaste for your liking, and you can tell he’s holding himself back. He needs to let go, so you emit a low hum of pleasure, which spurs him on and increases his fervour. You gently part your lips, and he gets the hint and takes the lead, deepening the kiss until your tongues meet – a touch that halts the spin of the whole galaxy around you.

Then he lets go. It’s as if he’s suddenly remembered how to breathe after holding his breath for decades, and oh, how utterly starved of oxygen he’s been. This kiss is feeding him, keeping him alive. His tightened grip, the tremors of lust you detect running through him, the way he almost whimpers into your mouth… it’s assertive and adorable in equal measures.

You can feel his inexperience, but you let him lead anyway. He gets lost in the sensations a few times, his rhythm faltering, but he corrects himself and responds keenly to your subtle signals of what’s good. It’s not long before you’re locked in a perfect moment, sharing an exquisite kiss with your ideal man.

When you part, it’s by mere centimetres, and you’re so full of happy chemicals that your hangover is barely a niggle at the back of your brain.

“I think that fixed my headache,” you purr against his lips. “I bet I could even thumb wrestle you now….” You have no clue what you’re implying, but you’re low-key horny, and openly flirting with him for once is fun.

Din’s unmodulated chuckle is the cutest thing you’ve ever heard. “Well, I was aiming for ‘mindblowing’, but I’ll take ‘headache-fixing’,” he jests, bantering right back for once. You can’t help but close the tiny distance to steal another lingering yet closed-mouth kiss, eager to show him just how addictive his efforts were.

Once again, your lips barely separate, lingering close. “Oh, it’s blown alright – completely offline. Probably why it doesn’t hurt anymore.” A salacious idea comes to you then, and you voice it a hair’s breadth from his mouth, knowing he’ll refuse but wanting to show you’re willing. “Maybe now it’s my turn to blow something of yours….”

The sharp gasp he sucks in and raggedly exhales indicates he’s just pictured your suggestion and played the image to its fruition. In the pitch-black room, you can pick up on his obvious arousal through sound and touch – the almost-groan he swallows, the twitch of all the muscles in his body as he reins himself in.

There’s a pause as he considers your proposal, and you can tell he’s waging a war with himself to refuse. You’ve put him in a difficult position. But this new closeness allows you to upgrade friendly teasing into full-on flirting, and you can’t resist.

It takes longer than you expect, but Din finally releases a shuddering breath, swallows, and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. Then he rasps, “I would enjoy that very much, but it’s not why I brought you down here, mesh’la.”

Mesh’la? Who the fuck is that? You stiffen in his arms, unable to process the idea that he’s just said someone else’s name during an intimate moment. Even if it does sound similar enough to yours that you could maybe understand the slip, how could he—?

“Maia,” you correct pointedly as your thoughts spiral, pulling away slightly, your stomach suddenly in knots.

He tightens his hold and hurriedly assures you, “Hey, no, it’s not— mesh’la means ‘beautiful’ in Mando’a.”

There’s a tense pause, and then you murmur, “Ah,” embarrassed and glad you didn’t instantly flip out at your incorrect assumption, then suddenly flattered by the compliment. As you fall back into his embrace, your sluggish brain gives you nothing more, too confused by the pelting of emotions you just received in quick succession. Perhaps it’s best to adopt Din’s usual policy of silence.

But he saves you from your chagrin and redirects you to another topic. “Final question. Can I make you dinner one evening this week? We agreed we’re aiming for something… meaningful here. Getting physical right away is not the best way to achieve that.” He squeezes your waist with the hand that’s remained in place throughout. “As much as I’m looking forward to that part.”

A sweet smile is your reply, though you realise he can’t see it in the dark. Luckily, it’s followed up by the return of your vocabulary. “Dinner sounds good. Grogu too?” You love the little womp rat, but this sounds like a date, so you’d rather it wasn’t crashed by a decades-old toddler.

Din hums as he follows your thought process. “The kids at his school keep inviting him on playdates and sleepovers. The parents seem like good people, so I’m sure we could arrange something both he and I would be happy with.”

You nod. “Then I look forward to our first date.” You can’t imagine how a dinner date will work with a guy who can’t show his face, but at least now you know there are loopholes. Perhaps he has another for eating together.

“Me too… mesh’la Maia.” You hear his slightly cheeky but utterly earnest tone, and you can’t help grinning. How apt that he should give you a nickname just when you decide to start using his real name.

You want to kiss him again, but since you pulled away a little, you can’t judge where his face is anymore, and you’re not sure if you’re allowed to touch him to locate it. “Another kiss before I leave, gorgeous guy?” (Two can play the nickname game, and you started it).

“Always,” Din agrees through a chuckle, bringing you in close again with the hand on your neck, finding your lips and pressing something firmer, more resolute there. You open eagerly for him and revel in the thrust of his tongue against yours. He’s settling into it now, more confident in himself and his technique, while carefully heeding your responses.

You enjoy it while you can – the sensations, the taste, the warmth, the delicious calm energy that washes through you with his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth, his hand on your neck. You commit the feelings to memory, unsure when you’ll get to do it again. You hope you won’t have to wait too long for your date.

It’s over too soon, but you accept that it has to be. As you separate, you attempt to lock in the memories of the features you’ve felt pressed against you – stubble, soft lips, a strong nose. It’s not much, but it’s more than you had before.

Din’s hand falls from your neck, and you bemoan the loss of heat and comfort, spiralling back toward your hangover from the heady heights of such an intimate moment. As you hear the scrape of his helmet on the shelf’s edge again, you panic a little and blurt out, “What’s your hair like?”

He freezes, and your panic swells for a different reason. Based on the comb you spotted on his dresser earlier, you’re confident you’re not asking a bald man to describe his hair, but perhaps it’s forbidden to ask.

“I-I mean, if I’m not allowed to know, then forget I asked. I just… now that I’ve felt your lips, it’s made me wonder about the rest. It’s fine if you can’t tell me, though.”

A few seconds later, the scrape of the helmet resumes, and he slides it into his grasp. But you don’t hear him put it on.

Din’s reply is a low whisper, and he sounds even more nervous than he was before you kissed. “You can’t see my face… but you can touch it. If you want.”

Oh. You wonder how many people have touched his face, which makes you hesitate. This feels more intimate than you should be getting right now. “Thank you. I think… just your hair today. I’ll explore the rest of you on our date, face included.” That promise wins you an eager hum.

Your hands remain buried in his cloak, so you slide one to the back of his neck and rake upward. A gasp escapes you as you feel soft strands, longer than you expected and curling slightly at the ends. You picture the cutest mess of unruly waves.

“Is it… what colour is it?” You’ve seen him without his gloves a few times – last night included – so you know his skin is a warm amber. But human genetics are so diverse that you can’t really assume anything about his hair based on that.

It takes a few seconds for him to answer, busy sighing in bliss and pressing his head into your palm like a tooka getting stroked. “Dark,” he replies simply. It’s unclear whether he’s hypnotised by your hand in his hair or he’s not used to disclosing details about himself. Both are fair excuses, and you have much more data than you did ten minutes ago either way. You’re convinced he’s gorgeous.

“Thank you, Din,” you offer as you force yourself to stop running your fingers through his silken waves and withdraw a step.

There’s a quiet rustle as he places his helmet back on and seals it. “You’re welcome.” It’s modulated again, but there’s something about hearing that metallic rasp that makes you smile. You just kissed the source of that sound.

With a muffled beep from his vambrace, the lights fade up again, revealing an impassive black T-visor. However, the armoured body below it somehow looks more relaxed and assured. Gone is the stiffness you felt in his limbs earlier, and though you wonder if a certain stiffness in his pants remains, you’re not about to start ogling him when you should be going home.

So you smile and suggest, “Walk me out?” and you’re rewarded with a nod.

When you exit the cabin for the second time in one morning, you feel like a different person. Though your foggy head throbs and your bruised shoulder smarts, your very essence sparkles with an energy you’ve never felt before. It flares with each lingering touch the Mandalorian bestows upon you, with every prolonged stare of his visor, and with his soft instruction to get home safe.

He’ll call you, he promises, slipping a new comlink into your hand.

When you exit the cabin for the second time in one morning, you feel like a better person. The girl who disgraced herself last night has gone, leaving a happier and more fulfilled version in her place. Even so, you’re sure glad that idiot version of yourself ran her mouth and became the catalyst for your new path with Din.

And you can’t wait to look down again. Maybe next time you’ll get to go down too.

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Get ready for more loquacious end notes…

Maia’s job was inspired by this scene from s3e5. She’s not a civil engineer, but, like, she could be that girl with the datapad – doing all the planning and building the holos while the engineer gets all the glory (can you tell I work in a support role??).

I originally wrote details at the end of part one of everything Din decided – that she must be attracted to him based on how she worded things, and that he’d talk to her to verify that and determine whether it was something she’d like to act on or just ignore. But I realised it was better for the story to leave his intentions a mystery (is the thing he ‘doesn’t want to have to do’ ejecting her from his life, or simply having a grownup conversation?), which hopefully lets you feel more of Maia’s fear here.

I feel like there’s a lot of scope for misunderstandings, not just because of Din’s helmet, but also because he can be socially awkward. So there he is, massively attracted to this girl who threw herself at him the night before but he doesn’t know what to say, so he just sort of gravitates towards her, tries to get close. Is he sort of flirting? Maybe. The ‘get in their personal space’ thing might work for him when he’s casually picking someone up. So his actions here are him trying to say with body language “I like you too, I want to get closer,” but she misunderstands because of her embarrassment, sees it as intimidation, and shies away – a response which makes him even more clueless about how to vocalise things.

I hope the switch from third person (she/her) pronouns in part 1 Din’s POV to second person (you/your) pronouns in part 2 Maia’s POV wasn’t too clunky. I know it’s popular in this fandom to use second-person pronouns (you/your) even when writing from a third person’s POV (Din’s), but I just can’t make myself do it. If he’s the one whose head we’re in, when he’s thinking about the woman he’s attracted to, he wouldn’t be thinking “damn, you’re hot”, he’d be thinking “damn, she’s hot”. I was taught that we should hear internal dialogue exactly as it would sound to the person thinking it, thus we should use third-person pronouns when inside his head. You/your is only for when we’re inside the reader’s head (second-person POV so second-person pronouns). And of course, I/me pronouns are used if we’re ever inside the author’s head (first person POV). I hope that explains the switch here. I swear I can’t help my annoying adherence to grammar rules – it’s just been drilled into me. I wish I could be more flexible sometimes, but unfortunately the autism always wins 😔

GIF made by me again, slightly less blurry this time.

Definitions: An ultrasound cleaner is basically a sonic toothbrush from Legends. Both Boba Fett and Jabba the Hutt kept a rancor as a rather scary pet. Caf, as you probably know, is the SWU’s coffee. Din (and Maia here) often calls Grogu a womp rat, a pest on Tatooine (proving Din has spent long enough there to pick up the local lingo, and Maia has picked it up from him). A tooka is an SWU cat.

As always, comments/kudos (AO3) and likes/reblogs (Tumblr) will inspire me to produce more things. I don’t have a Kofi because I would rather have your help marketing my stories than take your cash, so if you enjoy my work, please support me with kudos and reblogs. Thanks!

Honestly, I’m not altogether thrilled with this fic. I struggle with shorter (ha!) pieces because, as those of you who have read Be-All And Endor will know, I’m much more comfortable playing the long game and writing things where I can focus on character development, foreshadow future events, reference and call back concepts, and do a heck of a lot of worldbuilding. So to me, this feels like it lacks depth because it’s a very simple and straightforward concept that lacks a full-on conflict/resolution arc, and as a character study it’s nothing that hasn’t been done before. I’ve also been struggling to write something I felt was good enough to publish in the wake of Be-All. I don’t think this passes muster, but in the end, I realised I had to just post something – anything – simply to get past that fear of doing it. So I hope this was interesting enough to at least hold your attention! I suppose I could write a part 3 where they have their date and the smut happens, but to be honest, I have several other smutty fics in the works that have much better setups, so I think I should focus on those. I might come back to this one day, though.

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Tags requested…

@aheadfullofsteverogers @alltheotps @axolotllover225 @burntheedges @copperhalfcent

@dindenimchicken @feekedbeat @foomoosworld @jude77 @penvisions

@pigeonmama @secretelephanttattoo @stagerightlauren @the-mandawhor1an @titlee78

I tagged those below in part 1 due to interest in my series masterlist and WIP snippets (comments/reblogs). Nobody told me off for my audacity, so I’m hoping you’ll enjoy part 2 also…

@604to647 @cheekychaos28 @djarinmuse @gingerlurk

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@thefrogdalorian @whataenginerd @wrathkitty

[barleyo]

Nobody Rides for Free.

Shiu Kong X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: look at me posting again :3 anyway writing this was a struggle for me because i didn't know how to stretch it out, but i hope you all like it even though it's shorter than my usual work </3

Tags: fwb, p in v, car sex, quickie, semi-public, sex while driving

Wordcount: 0.7k

"Can't see the road over your head, dolly. There you go, that's better."

Your legs were starting to get tired from riding Shiu. You hated being on top, it was so much work. Plus, it felt so much better to be trapped under him. He was driving, though, so you had to relent and prop yourself over his lap to ride his cock. 

"I told you to pull over," you mumbled, keeping your head tucked on his shoulder to keep the road in his view. 

The last thing you wanted to do was to crash. What an embarrassing scene that would make for the first responders. You could imagine the headline clear as day: 'local woman speared to death on the cock of her boyfriend (?) during fatal car crash.'

"I don't have time to pull over. I've got real clients after this, you know. People who I actually have business with."

"Yeah, well," you pulled back, arms thrown over his shoulders to keep you upright, "I can't imagine you're enjoying this very much. You can't even see me with your eyes on the road."

He bucked his hips upwards sharply, satisfied grin on his face. 

"I'm a multitasker. Believe me, I'm having a great time." His eyes darted to his rear view mirror, eyeing the sparse traffic with a faint smugness. "Especially knowing any of these people could see you like this."

You groaned in discomfort at the idea. Getting a ride to work didn't seem worth all this trouble suddenly. Why did he have to be so fond of teasing you? If his dick didn't feel so good, you were certain you would've thrown yourself into oncoming traffic to end the humiliation of nearly getting caught at each turn. 

You swatted half heartedly at his chest and turned away from him, face flushed. Your skirt was crumpled from how you had to roll it up to fuck him. The hem came above your ass where Shiu had greedily parked his hand. 

"Ah— feels like you're close." He slipped his hand from your asscheek to your hip, assisting you in gliding up and down. Quick, steady sets of bouncing and grinding down on his length. "Don't grip around me so tight, I still have to focus here," he said, jaw clenched as he tried not to cum. 

"Fuck." Your mouth desperately pushed against his. 

You cornered him into a sloppy, spit-soaked kiss, letting your tongue twist against his. You focused only on the hot friction that his cock gave you as it milked the ridges of your messy, stuffed hole. 

He broke the kiss briefly, trying to catch his breath. He didn't dare take his eyes off of you. Besides, he had driven you to work many a time. It was muscle memory at this point, so he was quick to get right back into the heat of the moment with you, joining your mouths together  again. 

As the car turned into the lot of your job, you made rough, speedy movements in an attempt to get both of you off in time. Your cervix was taking a real beating from his heavy tip being jammed against it, but the pain was sweet and completely worth it. 

What wasn't worth it was the way that Shiu—lost in pleasure— hit the curb. 

"Damn it, Shiu!"

You clutched your metaphorical pearls in shock. The adrenaline was kicked out of your system and replaced with annoyance at the man. 

"You scared the hell out of me!" you spat.

Clumsily, you pulled off of his lap, leaving his cock stiff and neglected with your absence. 

"Oh, come on, princess." He stopped the car and watched as you grabbed your things and rolled your skirt back down. "Don't be that way."

You shot him a dirty look but couldn't help the hint of amusement that was in your eyes as you slammed his door shut. 

"I think I'll just walk home tonight." You wiped at the slick still dribbling down your thigh with your sleeve, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. 

"Right. Walking." Shiu watched as you stumbled away into your stuffy office building. Your knees had small bruises already forming on them, and your gait was questionable at best. "I'll see you at six."

[stormblessed95]

Watching Are You Sure?! EP 4

A reminder of how I do these reaction posts as I watch things. I just write my reactions and thoughts down literally they happen. Think more of a bullet point format. I'll include links when I can to videos, thanks to the people who twt who upload clips. And at the end, I'll do a better wrap up of all my opinions. I hope everyone enjoyed the show so far!!

Jungkook calling Jimin Hyungnim was so cute. Followed by the exaggerated listening of instructions to loosen his shoulders lol. And they way Jimin is so fond of JK enjoying riding 🥰

Jimin comparing the moon to which moon phase it is on his back is amazing for me personally thanks

Wait! Pausing to go make myself some tea to drink with them while they have their meal at the Japanese restaurant! 🥰🥰

Jikook are muscle memory kinda touchy man

Tae annoying Jimin with all his headbanging and ending up with a sore neck that Jimin massages for him 🥰 lol why doesn't JKs neck also hurt? Apparently he has a thick neck 🤣

JK filming all their food again 🥺 and I Love his reactions to good food! Tae too. Lol I just know that chef loved having them there appreciating his food so much! I don't even like sushi and they made me believe I would enjoy it 🤣

And he did!

Tae asking why RM wasn't here and Jikook immediately being like excuse you, it's a show just for the two of us. We barely let you in here to guest star because you wanted to and we love you 🤣 Tae "I felt that, thank you" 🤣🤣

V calling Joonie to ask for him to send him come back to me, the song he sang at D day 🥺🥺🥺 and expressing his sincere appreciation for it and for RM. God, my emotions! Tae wanting to crawl inside Namjoons brain basically is so relatable.

Jimin's little smile when Tae played Alone saying he really liked it 🥺🥺 I LOVE hearing them talk music together. It's his favorite song off Face 🥺🥰

Tae saying it (Face/Alone) reminded him of when they (Vmin) talked in your (Jimins) hotel room. Just for Jimin to say that it was JKs room. This just also gives that little bit of confirmation that Jikook are constantly glued at the hip. Always together. Might as well just get them the one room anyway 😂

Jimin taking his shirt off when they get inside and JK immediately being unable to take his eyes off him no matter how hard he tried. 😂🤣 It would've looked less sus at this point to have just openly looked at him sweetie lol

Idk what Jimin's thoughts were when he first got in that pool with Jungkook, but he looked mischievous. Idk what he was going to pull, but it was something inappropriate. Lol the way JK immediately reminded him of the see through glass, "hey babe, the staff and cameras will see EVERYTHING you do next, underwater is NOT safe" and the way they both immediately whipped their heads over to look at it and nervously chuckled. Like kids who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar 😅😂🤣

The hand pushing game that competitive JK has never once "attacked" in when against Jimin. 😂

So so many cuts in the pool. Wonder how long they stayed in there playing 🥰

Jikook wanting to show off their underwater game to Tae lmao who is not interested 😂 Tae just wants to go to bed 😂🤣 not them just watching Tae get ready for bed like absolute creepers 🤣🤣

You are me, I am you underwater 😍😍😍

I'm pretty sure Jimin just propositioned Jungkook after swimming. Idk what he planned to do about it since they are sharing a bedroom with Tae lmfao but I'm fairly sure that's what he did. He was "really craving it" lmfao the way JK laughed and smacked him for the flirting too? 😅😂 The "you don't have to eat. I can it all" is giving "what? I can do it by myself, no worries" type of flirting teasing. If we are going to be continuing with the innuendos 😂😂

Jikook domestically sharing the bathroom. For their showers too? Lol idk. But the way they've got their suitcases spread open next to each other and just pulling from both too? So domestic.the way they sat on the little cushions before bed too leaned all into each other, watching JKs performance on his phone and talking about what he needs to do/film, etc. So fucking domestic

JK saying he hasn't slept at all since NY. Poor baby is so fucking busy. I'm also not saying he sleeps better with Jimin, but I'm also not not saying that

Tae took Jimin's bed (lol?) and Jikook just automatically running for JKs bed and flipping into it all cuddled up together? The only nighttime time lapse we've gotten so far. Lol when they have an additional person in the room anyway 😂 think Tae knew they'd enjoy sharing the bed anyway so felt safe taking Jimins? 😂 The way JK woke up briefly and turned to check on Jimin before moving to the 3rd bed to get snuggled under the covers. That was honestly so cute. Domesticcccc

So much has happened and I'm not even halfway through. Wtf

Tae's poor neck is still sore. Lmao baby you are getting older I guess. No excessive headbanging allowed anymore! Asking JK to massage it for him and JK taking care of it was soooo cute

Jungkookie's mom calling him and asking what was up and bringing up that he was with Jimin twice and confirming he (they?) were coming home for Chuseok 🥺 that was genuinely so cute and sweet

Tae offering to pluck Jimin's one long beard hair for him. Their cute sleepy faces 🥺

Tae offering and giving Jimin a massage while he sings Tae's Slow Dancing. They are so fucking cute I cannot handle myself. Vminkook massage train is something I need. Lol give it to me 😂

Jimin speeding up to pass taekook on their bikes and them both whipping their heads around to look and smile at him was so cute lol and the way they danced at lights too. Adorable. And taekook playing word games!!

The way JK surprised Jimin by hitting the table because he was so excited to eat the food! Lol

Tae just wanting to drop the knowledge that he knows Jimin super well because he knew he wouldn't want a soda while he ate 😂 I love him

JK once again filming his food and filming his Jimin

Jiminie needs a clip or mini ponytail lmfao he keeps holding his bangs back while trying to eat 😂

LOL THEY GOT HIM ONE! and it's adorable!! I wish they showed us whichever Noona came running over to pin his hair for him and the vminkook giggles I'm sure followed 😂🥰 maybe in the behinds lol

Tae calling Jimin Serendipity was 🥺😍🥺😍

Sometimes the giant ass bites they take of food worries me that they might choke 😅 maybe it's the mom in me lol

JK: "you're not a big eater"

JM: "no, I ate a lot. You just eat loads" lmfao

Jimin waxing poetic about Tan 🥺🥺🥺

JK saying that seeing Tan on Vs promos made him miss Bamie 😭🥺

I can't tell if Tae asking JK about paying and JK saying to wire him the money was a skit or not 🤣 probably because it felt like such a normal conversation if my friends and I went out to eat 😅😂 the giggles gave me skit vibes though lol

The cutest little cafe! And Jimins absolute excitement when he spots the cat inside! It's the cafe from Tae's selfies he posted with Jikook!

Vmin constantly with the romance skits lmao

Jikook with the strangers to lovers first time meet cute skits as always too lol

Who was Tae talking to about working out?? Lol

The extremely good looking server Tae skit 😍

The Vmin bickering followed by a cut of them sitting in their own seats and the editor caption of "we don't fight" lmfao show us the rest of their bickering editors!

Jimin saying to look at the pretty clouds and JK following that up with the incredibly cheesy flirty "you're prettier Jimin" and Jimin being so over his cheesiness was amazing. I loved it so much. JK can be such a flirt sometimes and it always flusters Jimin lmao

Vmin talking about how JK is so much stronger than they are. Tae saying that's true but he would never pretend to cower and Jimin saying he isn't pretending, he is just actually scared lmao

"Raggedy Jungkook is back" JK will never live that tan line down. Lol Jimin joining in and then making Tae join in too, he looked so unamused. Lol They are absolutely ridiculous 😂 JK out on so much sunscreen 😂 anytime be does anything ridiculous though it's so cute how he immediately looks for Jimins reaction, to make sure it made him laugh and smile 🥰

Poor Tae's neck is still hurting! I hope he feels better!

Poor JK, hitting his head on the boat and Jimins immediate CPR rescue lmfao!

Jimin's amazing jump and JKs perfect dive!

Tae also hitting his head on the boat! My poor babies lmao! I was going to say the boat needs a watch your head sign, but it has one 🤣

Mermaid Jimin 😍

JK swimming up to Jimin and holding onto him briefly and humming through his snorkel 🥰 the way that even playing in the ocean, they are basically stuck like glue to each other too. The arms around each other while swimming was so cute!

JK and Jimin sharing a bowl of Ramen! The way JK takes a bite, puts the rest of the noodles he bit off of back in the bowl and hands it off to Jimin. By far not the worst way they've shared food (hello lemon) lol but still!

Tae calling the captain over to help him reel the "big fish!" He caught in just for the captain to tell him it was a rock 🤣🤣 Watching the maknae line struggle to fish makes me miss Yoonjin! I need to see Jins reaction to this part of the episode actually lmfao

Not the drone sacrificing itself to the sea 🤣🤣 the confused crew and JKs shook face!!

Tae finally caught 2 fish!! Good job!!! The way he left JM and JK take pictures with his fish like they caught them too 🥺😍🥰

Watching the sunset, Jimin going "this is romantic" 🥺🥺🥺 followed promptly be him getting down to cuddle JK while he records the sunset is so fucking cute.

Jikook cloud watching! This is where they draw their whale cloud picture together 🤣😂 the giggles! They are so precious!!

Tae finally coming to join Jikook in laying down in the boat together (where was he?!) I just love seeing them be so at peace together 🥰🥰🥰 the amount of "I love this" that occured brings me SUCH happiness

Wrap up Thoughts:

A reminder, to also myself that this was filmed Sept 25 - 27th of 2023 and was Chuseok right after they landed 😊 where Tae posted his sunset photo from Jeju that he took while they were on this boat together!

Istg there were so many cuts. I feel like we barely ever got to even see a full conversation. I get that there is 24 hours basically of footage for one day that they trim to an hour of content, but I beg for some continuity. This is why people make analysis posts editors?! You give them too much wiggle room and never a consistent timeline!

Jikook had an extra domestic energy to them this episode, even with all the playing and giggling happening too. Idk what caused the energy shift, maybe just Jimin not feeling sick for once. And with the added bonus of knowing they made the choice to apply for the buddy system too.

They were so cuddly and sweet and observant to each other's ever need. Jimin loves him some biker JK too 😂 and God, JK just never stops calling Jimin pretty. I truly love that for them. So much

The energy with another member around really did just draw out how different Jikooks dynamic is with each other at times.

Say what you want, JKs call with his mother was the sweetest little interlude ever and it absolutely sounded like his mom was calling to confirm he was bringing his boyfriend home for the holiday. Lol I know Jimin went to see his parents too, but that's the energy that call gave! I can't help it!

This was their second trip to Jeju, since they went together in August too. And they flew back home and basically went straight to Busan together to visit their families for Chuseok. I'm so so glad they got to do all that together. I can't wait for the next episode to see how they end their Jeju vacation!

[saturnniidae]

More dragon rider disability headcanons for disability pride month!

(Ones specifically abt Hiccup are here)

Ruffnut has hypermobile EDS (when the twins were doing some bit that was basically Guinness book of world records she said smth abt 'worlds stretchiest skin' and my mom made a joke and said 'ruff has eds!' And it stuck)

A joke Ruffnut loves to make is saying Tuff is so insufferable she should just run away to join a circus and become a contortionist. She thinks it's the funniest thing ever

Hiccup also has some weird hypermobility stuff going on, when Ruff learns this she calls him a fellow circus freak (affectionate) and offers to let him come with her when she runs away. The response she got was "I'd rather stick my hand in Fenrir's mouth."

Tuff is visually impaired in his right eye from a childhood injury (another joke taken seriously)

All the riders are neurodivergent!

Snotlout has a frequently irregular heartbeat as well as memory issues due to how many times he's been struck by lightning. His whole book he wrote in that one episode isn't the only writing he does, he keeps a notebook to help keep track of minor things he might forget.

Astrid tries to make Hiccup breakfast in bed when he's having bad pain days and is too tired to do it himself. She almost burns the house down every time, so Toothless will go and get the other riders to help out while Astrid is kicked out of the kitchen and sent back to bed

Hiccup can be really fucking mean sometimes! Usually it's intentional bc he's in a bad mood and wants to be left alone. If it's seemingly unprovoked though, the others know it as a sign he's likely in pain and needs to be left alone (he still insists on getting work done but usually Toothless annoys him into resting)

Astrid has aches in her leg from when she got shot with that arrow, it being poisoned with dragon root did something to mess up the healing process so its worse than other old injuries (Dragon root isn't poisonous to humans but still having it in your blood stream isn't a good idea). She's also very mean when she's in pain, especially because it ruins her schedule since she can't train. Eventually her and Hiccup come to an agreement when they're having bad pain days they'll meet up in one of their huts and just. Sit together enjoying the others comforting presence but rarely talking

This is because Hiccup and Astrid both hate being in pain in front of people, they both share that almost extreme fear of vulnerability and the best they can do is take comfort in each other

Hiccup and Fishlegs are hyperfixation buddies! Fishlegs is the only one who doesn't get mad (it's just fond exasperation) when Hiccup wakes him up in the middle of the night to infodump, they just bounce off each other talking about dragons until woah suddenly the sun is rising and that is when Fishlegs gets upset because he values his sleep

All the riders have burn scars of varying severity. They literally work with dragons there's no way they wouldn't. And they all deal with their pain in different ways, but are unwavering supportive of each other when they can be

I've said it before and I'll say it again, a lot of characters should be disabled.

I know, cartoon logic and all, but the things that happen to these guys are things that should affect them for the rest of their lives. And watching characters struggle with permanent change like that, the realization you can never go back to how things were, and eventually healing and learning that's okay! You can still find happiness and be happy and it doesn't make your pain any less valid! It's so important to me and that's obviously reflected in my interpretations of my favorite characters lmao