#but you still deeply love her and now you're holding hands in the space between life and nonexistence

[7-ratsinatrenchcoat]

[gguksgalaxy]

The Real Thing | KMG

You wake up to your sweet, loving boyfriend trying to get you exactly where he wants you to be. How else is he going to treat you right? Sleep be damned.

›› Genre: Smut (legit just filth) ›› Rating: 18+ (explicit s-x) ›› Pairing: Mingyu x f.Reader ›› Wordcount: 2.4k ›› Warnings: oral (f.rec), s-x while half asleep/waking up, it's very consensual tho, manhandling and holding her in place, bit of biting as well, Mingyu is so drunk on her wow, they cute tho, unprotected s-x (in a relationship, be safe!), cr-ampie, petnames, praise, begging? lemme know if I missed smt because this was a lot... ›› Wonwoo ver. ›› uh idk what possessed me we don't have to talk about it but thanks to @homerunhansol for validating me for this <3 you're a darling

A heavy honey’d voice breaks through your slumber, calling your name in the dark. The lisp still spills through his lips that trace places on your body you can’t quite pinpoint. He’s everywhere. Hands firm on your thighs, teeth above the band of your shorts. His breath is hot, your skin flourishing with goosebumps where he drags his blunt nails along your hips. 

“Up, baby,” Mingyu whispers, pulling at your frame. He’s insistant yet careful, lifting your lower body just enough to do what he wants. Enough to give himself the space to drag your shorts and panties down past the swell of your ass with his teeth. Still half fogged by sleep, still twisted into the sheets, you can’t quite grasp what exactly he’s trying to do. But his nose trailing down the curve of your ass says enough. “I got you,” he breathes into your skin, palm smoothing down the expanse of your back. 

You mumble back, nothing in particular. Your own words are lost to you, drowned into the pillow that you clutch closer as you press your chest closer to the mattress. Inadvertently tilting your bottom close to him. All you can feel now is your lover and the warmth spreading from wherever he caresses you to the centre between your thighs. There where he places his hand and groans into you at the feeling of you grinding down on him purely out of instinct. When did you get this wet?

“Baby,” he tries again, hands sliding back to your hips, thumbs digging into your skin. Creating beautiful divots and crescent moon shapes with his nails. 

You hum, not wanting to open your eyes, not wanting to awaken from this dream. 

He chuckles, teeth nipping at your ass. “Gon’ make you feel good, yeah? Just lift your hips for me.”

A frown creases your forehead, but you comply. Following the guidance of his palms alongside the sweet touch of his lips to your skin is easy. Holding yourself up? Not so much. You whine in frustration and he grins audibly almost. It rumbles from his throat, rough-edged by his own sleep. What time is it even? You let him shuck you up the bed again, tilting your hips up and pressing your shoulders into the bed. Your back arches, your thighs spread just enough to leverage you and it burns. 

“Gyu,” you whimper. 

Nothing prepared you for the way he licks a fat stripe down your folds without so much as a warning. You spiral from there. You’ve always been sensitive in the morning. Arousal ripples through your body, spasms shaking your legs as he thumbs your clit with practiced ease. You crumble, legs giving in and body colliding with the bed again. 

But Mingyu is anything if not determined. He grabs you again, perhaps a bit too firm—why should you care, you’re his to ruin. Any time, any day, any place. Like here in your bed, where he manoeuvres you into the exact position that’ll let him comfortably eat you out from behind. Gives him the perfect view of your tits pressed into your pillow, folds spread and ass on display. 

He groans so deeply, once again sinking his teeth into the flesh of your ass. Thick fingers find their home inside of you, sliding in with so little resistance that you hiccup when his knuckles brush your clit. Shudders course through you when he twists them, angling his wrist just so that he can—you collapse onto the bed once more. 

Your whine is so high in your throat, thighs burning with the effort of holding yourself up. You’re not awake enough for this, yet not asleep enough to not feel how empty you are now. 

“You okay?” Mingyu whispers, airy and fanned out over the back of your thigh. “Tired?”

You nod, to both. “Gyu,” you whine, tilting your body towards him despite your exhaustion.

It has him cursing. An under his breath sound that you know all too well. Like you know him. Like you know that he isn’t going to rest until he eats you out exactly how he has envisioned in the moments leading up to this. And you need it, because having just a dip of his fingers in you is never enough. That one swipe of his tongue unlocked an ache between your thighs that needs quelling. God, what a way to wake up. 

He shifts, pushing your body a little further up the bed. “Let me try something, hmm? Pretty girl.” The words stir something in you, butterflies in your stomach, warmth in your cheeks. He once again lifts your hips off the bed, enough to have you plant your knees on the bed. “Relax.” He spreads your thighs, a familiar feeling from all the times he’s been between them. Spreads them wide as if to accomodate his shoulders.

You hiccup in frustration. “Lemme turn,” you mumble, attempting to raise yourself. 

A large hand firmly lands between your shoulder blades, keeps you pinned, warm and snug within the covers of your shared bed. “Stay there, wan’ you like this.” His voice is so beautiful like this, laced with lust and muddled by sleep in a way that only he could make hot. Or maybe it’s because he’s still so close to your arching core. 

Mingyu presses you down, almost until your stomach grazes the bed and somehow…somehow the bed provides enough pushback to keep you spread like that. On your knees but spread outwards, upper body to the covers, ass up. The arch of your back is delectable, like an early-morning stretch. You can’t imagine the view he’s got. He’s always loved looking at you, any which way you’d let him. But like this? Open and waiting for him? All his? It must be amongst his favourite.

He mumbles another curse into your thigh, after which the mattress suddenly jostles. A bounce nearly throws you off your balance if it wasn’t for his strong arms coiling around your thighs. Be the angle—shit. He’s slid himself under you. The position has given him just enough space to get his head right under your cunt, exactly where he wants to be. And then he—

“Min-Mingyu!” His lips suction your clit fast and hard. His mouth is wet, hot, tongue firm and rough. A hand palms your ass, and you’re sure you’re pressing his head down with your body. Why would he care? He’d let you suffocate him. And you would. If it didn’t mean you’d never get to have this again. You’d never give up the wet warmth of his mouth on you. 

He almost moans louder than you when you slide a hand down to grab his hair. You can’t ride his face, body too tired and angle too tight. He basically has you pinned tight, his own angle perfect. Perfect to slide two fingers right back into you where they belong. Twists and turns them until he can rub at the walls just how you like. 

Scratch that, you love it. Love the way he pushes and pulls you, makes you shudder and moan and shake over him. The sound of his fingers fucking into you is slick, but not as wet as his mouth over your clit. He slurps, groans, growls even. Presses you so close that you wonder if he can even breathe. The hot puff of air against your core confirms it. Makes it so much worse. Has you keening for him, whinging, writhing. He revels in it. And you’re sure that if you could see him, he’d be rock hard, cock straining against his toned stomach. 

You whine his name for the umpteenth time that morning, day, night—you have no clue. All you know is that your orgasm is quickly approaching. Rocketting your body to be awake. To feel the full extent of his ministrations. The firm grip on your ass, the muscles of his arms coiling against your thighs, teeth and tongue at your clit. The perfect pleasure pain. Perfect, like him and his little grin at your core. Because he knows, he knows you’re close and you can’t do anything about it. Not when he’s bent you into such a tight position. You’re all his to devour. 

And devour you he shall. 

He shifts, pushes his body to yours. Then he stops. Mouth detaching from you just for a second while his fingers spread you open. He holds you there and you hate that you can’t see him. Want to see his dark eyes cloud over with lust. 

“Wish you could see yourself. So fucking wet for me.” 

You shake, breath heavy, trying to push closer. “Please.”

“Good girl,” he chuckles. 

The loudest moan yet rips from your throat as he slides his tongue in between his fingers. Laps at your walls like he’s got something to reach. And in true Mingyu fashion, he manages to settle the tip of his nose right over your clit. It gives you just enough stimulation to tumble back to that edge. The pleasure is sharp, your fall fast and so easy. Because what are you if not weak for him?

His name falls from your lips like a mantra, begging him for anything but for him to stop. He doesn’t. He never truly does. Couldn’t edge you if he wanted to, and he never does want to. He works you so close, takes you to that sweet sweet edge, walls pulsing on his tongue. The vibrations of his moans send delicious shivers down your legs and up your spine. Slick noises drowned out by his. By the rumbling in your ears when your impending orgasm crashes through you. 

He sucks back to your clit as it hits, doubling the hit of your peak. Has you screaming, burying your face into your pillow to muffle it. Thighs straining to close but being unable to. He holds you open. Holds you close so he can take anything you give him. Sucks up the slick against your folds, nibbles on them as you come down. 

Then, he lets out a breathy giggle. “Always so sensitive in the morning.” Sweet, sweet words, spoken against your inner thigh. “So good for me,” he muses, nuzzling your skin before slipping out from under you. 

You can’t even collapse, so tired, the aftermath of your orgasm settling in your bones. “Help,” you whisper with a lazy smile. 

“Hmm, come here.” Mingyu crawls up next to you, guiding your body to turn into him. One thigh to the mattress, the other up and over his hip. You shiver when his cock nudges your hip. Of course he’s hard, always is when he eats you out. 

Normally you’d offer to suck him off, ride him even. What is such an orgasm good for if not an excuse to treat your loving boyfriend. But your body is still recovering, still attempting to separate your deep slumber from the throat of pleasure. You’d sign up for this more often if it didn’t feel like your entire system crashed. Mingyu knows you too well. 

He kisses up your neck, sucks at a mark he left there previously. His cock slides into the crease where your thigh meets your hip. It’s rough, bare skin on skin, but it provides him with relief. “Think you can take me, baby?”

You groan. Never would you deny the feeling of him filling you, spreading you better than his fingers. Reaching places you never thought you’d needed touched. But he always delivered 110%. Ruined you for anyone else. Though you’re not sure if you can right now, your body still slack in his embrace. “Don’ know, Gyu,” you whisper, “You got me good.” 

“I know.” He nudges his nose with yours, finally kisses you. Parts his mouth against yours to taste you—to have you taste the remnants of yourself on his tongue. “Just-.” He shudders with another rock of his hips to yours. “‘M close, just wanna feel you. Won’ be long, promise.” Sleep is still etched into his features, drowned into his voice. Your room is still dark enough for morning to not have arrived. It can’t have, with how tired you both feel. 

Mingyu again rocks his hips forward, stuttering. You reach to touch, feel the desperate twitch of his length when you graze your fingers over the tip. It’s wet with precum. He really must be close. 

He rolls you onto your back properly, traces the edges of your face while he fucks up into your palm. Holds you just so he can look into your eyes. His own brown eyes sleepy, gaze filled with a tiny bit of mirth and a lot of arousal. “Please?” he whimpers with another kick of his hips. 

Who are you to deny him when he begs so sweetly? You spread your legs, undulate for him, help him guide his length into you. Your body arches into his, the stretch barely there but the flush of overstimulation sets your nerves alight briefly. You’re so full and so content and you don’t need to cum even if you probably could. The sensation of him shivering against you—body sliding over yours, desperately holding back to not jostle you too much—is enough.

He whines, high in his throat, teeth sinking into your skin to muffle himself. You card you fingers through his hair, whisper praise to his ear. Soothe him as he slides back and forth through your slick warmth. He doesn’t need much. A dozen thrusts and he’s moaning through his orgasm. Fills you up perfectly. 

“Good God,” he grumbles, collapsing on top of you. 

You laugh, air punched out of your lungs by his weight. “Ditto.” You keep your fingers going through his hair, knowing he won’t pull out until he’s fully sated and gone soft. More than before, you feel awake. Able to now appreciate the tan, muscled limbs strewn out over yours. You kiss the top of his head tenderly. 

“Say,” you whisper, “What got into you?”

He huffs, lips pressed to your breast. “You were whining my name in your sleep.” He cranes his head back to look at you. “The sexy kind of whining.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.” Heat creeps up your chest and to your cheeks. You can’t even remember what you could’ve been dreaming about? All you remember is waking up to his hands on your ass and his breath on your core. 

Mingyu chuckles, kisses your sternum. “What were you dreaming about, pretty girl?”

You shrug. “Don’t remember.” 

He looks at you offended to not receive the information he’s looking for. So cute. 

You kiss his forehead. “What’s it matter when the real thing is so much better?”

Letting you guys know that I'd LOVE to hear your thoughts on this, it's my first time posting pwp lmaoo jfkdsjl I was really nervous about it but yeah...let me know!

tagging: @hyunsunni

[neoballsucker]

SAY MY NAME

Summary : complaining to your friend about working overtime for extra work with the office's crush

Pair : mingi x fem!reader

Genre : office AU , SMUT

Warnings : semi public sex , pet names (princess baby etc.) , unprotected sex , soft Dom!mingi , cum play , fingering , blowjob

words count : 1.3k

A/N : I'm still really bad at that I'm sorry 😭😭

Mingi was a really popular guy in your office

He was handsome respectful

He was the meaning of perfection

A Lot of girls had a crush on him you can't deny you didn't grow a little crush on him since you knew him he was attractive his deep voice made you melt everytime you hear it

You didn't know if he was single or taken it wasn't really your business a lot of women from the office tried flirting with him women older than him and younger than him it was embarrassing how he just refused to go out with them but can you blame them he was handsome and a gentleman man

“I really wanna ask him out but I don't really know how he rejects everyone” your friend sighs in disappointment

“Maybe it's because he has someone in his life?” You chunkles at your friend's disappointment

“It's okay babe he's not the only man out there you know that right” you try to comfort her patting on her back softly

“You're right but he's just…so handsome and cute, his girlfriend must me so lucky to have him”

“Yeah you're right he's handsome I agree but c'mon there are alot of men out there I'm sure they'll be better than him”

“Yeah it's okay whatever” she rolls her eyes

“Anyways wanna come to the club with me after work?”

You sigh deeply in disappointment “oh well… the manager told me I have to stay overtime because I still have some work to do”

“Oh damn that must be lame will you be alone or…?” She asks and pats your back softly

“I don't know probably…I hope so tho i don't want some nasty old men with me for overtime”

She chuckles at your comment “yeah I agree some of these old men are really lame I'd rather be alone too” you just nod and return your gaze to your computer

Time skips everybody left it was only you…that's what you thought until you heard footsteps you rolled your eyes thinking it was one of the old men until you heard his voice

“Hi umm is anyone there?” He said clearing his throat…it was mingi

“Oh yeah…hi mingi” you smiled and waved

“Oh hi y/n you also here for overtime?”

“Yeah unfortunately “ you sigh in disappointment and rolled your eyes

“Anyways work hard I believe in you” he winks and smiles softly

You didn't answer him you were just starting at him…maybe more than you should

He noticed it and chuckles “someone is in love I see” you shake your head “ahh no sorry I was just spacing out” you said and chuckled nervously “yeah I see it's okay you're to the first one to ‘space out’ talking to me” you roll your eyes “I can't blame them” you chuckles as you feel his body leaning closer “so do you think I'm handsome too?” You feel his body closer his voice getting deeper you swallow hard as you feel heat raise in your body pool was created in your underwear as you feel his lips on yours his lips were so soft and nice it tastes like strawberry it was sweet your eyes close slightly as you feel his hands on your waist as he pulls you closer to his tall figure you didn't want this moment to stop you felt him unbuttoning your shirt something in you told you to stop him but instead you helped him take off your shirt as your shirt was removed on the floor he cups one of your breasts as you moan into the kiss it felt like heaven it was good it felt unreal as you feel him take off your laced bra exposing your breasts you knew it was wrong doing it in a workplace he knew it was wrong doing it in a work place but who cares now?

He pulls out of the kiss going lower to the level of your breasts as you feel one of your nipples in his mouth and the other between his fingers squeezing it you press your lips together as trying to hold your loud moans until you couldn't anymore you started moaning as you feel his fingers massaging your entrance the pleasure was too much for you.

“Will you please be quiet for me princess?”

“Y-yes I ca-” you couldn't even continue the sentence until you felt his finger inside you your eyes roll back as his fingers stretch your hole you try to moan but it got stuck in your throat as you cries out and whine

“If you can't take one of my fingers probably how are you going to take my dick princess huh?” You hide your face in your hands embarrassed as your ears slightly turn red from the embarrassment

“I-i will handle your dick mingi” your voice is shakey your vision getting blurry as you feel yourself near climax

“C-can I cum…please” as you said that you feel your hole empty whining that you couldn't cum

“Do you wanna make a mess in the office princess?” you shake your head and just roll your eyes

“Use your words baby”

“No mingi I don't but like please.. please can you fuck me” you begged it was embarrassing when you think about it but he looked just too hot to resist

“Alright fine then…it will be a quick one though” you nodded with a cocky smile on your face as he pushes you on a chair unbuckling and discharging his pants while you take off your skirt

“Open wide for me princess and don't forget to say my name” he chuckles softly as he settles between your legs teasing your entrance with his tip

“No teasing mingi please” as you said that you felt his dick inside you

You bite your lower lips trying to hold the urge to moan

“A-ahh mingi oh please faster” your voice was shakey it came out more of a moan than a proper sentence you can feel the smirk on his face even if your eyes are closed

“Oh fuck you're so tight princess pussy only made for me don't you think so ?”

“Y-yes mingi yes”

“You look so pretty all fucked like that pussy so tight yet taking me so well”

“I'm about to cum please can I cum?”

“Of course princess what are you waiting for” as you heard his words you released it all your eyes rolls back your grip on his hair gets tight as you feel him pull out of you

“Get on your knees for me baby” his voice was low it makes what to do whatever he asks you whatever it was you get on your knees between his legs taking a deep breath as you feel the tip tapping on your mouth you open your mouth as he puts his dick in your mouth, you start bobbing your head up and down as you hear his moans and groans you feel his dick hitting the back of your throat as you try to not choke on it

He groans as he releases his seeds in your mouth some of it on the corner of your lips but you swallow whatever was in your mouth for now he wipes the cum off the corners of your lips

“Open for me princess” you open your mouth widely as he inserts his fingers as you wrap your lips around his fingers cleaning it off

“That's my girl” he smiles softly and kisses your lips and helps you stand grabbing your clothes and helps you get dressed as he gets himself dressed

“Alright now shall we go back to work?” He asks with a soft smile on his face

“Yeah I guess so” you smile weakly still feeling your sore throat but at least it was worth it wasn't it ?

[inou-ie]

Pairing: Eula x female reader

Warnings: NSFW, drunk sex, fingering, slight angst.

Author's notes: Conan Gray playlist made me do this.. I hope you guys enjoy.

MDNI

You scanned the surroundings, surrounded by a cacophony of drunken laughter and conversations that pounded against your temples like a relentless drumbeat. Amidst the disorienting noise, a woman in front of you captured your attention with a wave of her hand.

"Are you even listening?" Eula let out a sigh, her arms crossing as her flushed cheeks betrayed the effects of alcohol that had clearly taken hold by now. "I've been talking here... listen to me! look at me!" there she goes again... When inebriated, Eula had a tendency to become somewhat of a brat, constantly demanding your love and attention, the complete opposite of her when she's not drunk.

You couldn't help but let out a deep sigh in response. Why did you feel the need to accompany her every time, despite her rejection of your love confession? It was as if she conveniently forgot those moments.

"You're drunk already... let's just go." You spoke softly, deliberately avoiding eye contact with the woman who rejected you just days ago.

"No way... I'm not done yet." Eula declared as she rose from her seat and settled in next to you, invading your personal space with a tight embrace, her arms securely wrapped around your body. "You're not going anywhere." she mumbled softly, her face buried in the crook of your neck.

Eula's actions had an inexplicable effect on you, causing your heart to race and your cheeks to flush a deep shade of red, as if you were the one who had indulged in alcohol. You remained still, relishing the warmth of the person with whom you had once envisioned a shared future.

Basking in the embrace, you stayed still for a few more moments before eventually deciding to gently push her away. "I'll take you home..." you whispered, tenderly brushing aside a strand of hair that had fallen across her face. Eula nodded in agreement, maintaining her grip on you as the two of you rose from your seats. Her taller stature made it clear that assisting her home would indeed be a bit challenging for you.

You let out a low groan as Eula clung to you with unwavering determination, making the journey to her place feel like an uphill battle. Sweat rolled down your chin, but Eula seemed entirely unfazed, continuing to hum to herself. You couldn't help but wonder why she drank so much, but you pushed those thoughts aside, opting to sigh deeply instead. Her weight and inebriation made it almost too challenging to assist her, but you pressed on.

Upon finally reaching her place, you resorted to kicking open the door to her room, and with great care, you lowered her onto the bed. Stretching your limbs, you couldn't help but emit a pained sound, already foreseeing the soreness that would plague you the following day.

"...hey..! come here." Eula playfully gestured for you to come closer with a curl of her finger, causing you to rub your face in mild frustration. "What?" you responded, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at her with a mix of curiosity and exasperation.

Eula let out a small chuckle before suddenly lunging at you, causing you to almost lose your balance on the edge of the bed. "I got you!" she laughed, and for a moment, the sound of her voice brought a smile to your face. However, that smile quickly faded as the painful memory of her rejection resurfaced.

"Just go to sleep..." you urged, attempting to guide her to lie down. However, Eula had other plans. In a swift motion, she wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled you onto the bed, causing you to end up lying on top of her. A satisfied smile crossed her face as she held you close.

Your face flushed with heat, and your breath caught in your throat as you felt the overwhelming closeness between you and Eula. Her leaning in closer made you instinctively lean back, attempting to distance yourself from her grasp.

"Eula, please, let go…" you tried to maintain a calm tone as you continued to lean away, but Eula persisted in leaning forward. The scent of alcohol on her breath wafted towards your lips, creating an intoxicating proximity you couldn't easily escape.

Your gaze involuntarily shifted to her lips, and you swallowed hard before forcing yourself to look into her eyes once more. The ache in your heart was palpable. Why was she doing this, knowing how desperately you wanted her, how deeply you loved her? It was a painful and confusing situation.

"Kiss me." Eula demanded in a tone that left you frozen in place. Your heart raced faster than ever, making it difficult to catch your breath. If only Eula knew the torrent of emotions surging within you right now, you felt as if you might explode from the intensity of it all.

Finally succumbing to the overpowering urge, you took a deep breath and leaned in towards her. Holding your breath, you gently pressed your lips against hers in a long-awaited kiss,

Eula enthusiastically welcomed your lips with hers, her embrace growing tighter as she drew you even closer. Your body heated up, and your breath turned ragged as the intensity of the moment engulfed both of you. Every brush of your lips with hers made you craving for more, your hands moving to cup her cheeks gently but firmly as you hold her in place to deepen the kiss. Your tongue darting out of your lips to lick hers, as if asking for permission to enter her mouth which she did.

Eula moaned into the kiss as your tongues rubbed against each other, the sound of wet kisses along with the soft moans coming from the both of you filled the room.

"Mhmm.. more, give me more..." Eula whispered in between the kisses, her arms pulling you towards her closer than ever. You pulled away, your breath heavy, and your gaze locked onto her eyes. Your heart raced so fast it felt as if it might leap from your chest. Eula appeared to have noticed, as she leaned forward, pressing her ear against your chest to listen to the rapid, erratic rhythm of your heart.

"We... we should stop." you uttered, your eyes imploring Eula to release her hold on you. You recognized that if you continued to indulge in this moment, it would only shatter your heart further, knowing that she didn't share the same feelings for you.

Eula didn't appear to take your words seriously, playfully shaking her head with a teasing grin. "No… I don't want to." she replied, her tone further frustrating you as it seemed like she was just toying with your emotions. You felt a mix of anger toward her for playing with you and frustration with yourself for being unable to push her away completely.

Your eyes widen when Eula started opening her clothes with one hand, revealing her cleavage glistening with sweat. Her other hand keeping you close, holding the back of your neck firmly as she pushes your head towards her now exposed breasts. "No.. I.." You swallowed hard, attempting to pull away, but your strength had deserted you. Your arms trembled, struggling to maintain your position as you found yourself unable to break free from Eula's hold.

"It's okay... don't hold back." Eula cooed softly as she released you, but her hand moved to the back of your head, gently caressing your hair. Her touch was both comforting and persuasive, sending a shiver down your spine as you took a deep, unsteady breath, caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

You tried to convince yourself that this might be your only chance, one that might never come again. With that thought in mind, you closed your eyes and then opened them, as if you had made a decision. With that, you leaned down... planting soft kisses on her neck and chest before finally moving to her breast. You licked around her nipple before sucking on it gently, making Eula sigh in pleasure with a warm smile, her hand still caressing your hair which made you just want to keep going and never stop.

"That feels good... so good." Eula moans softly as she arches her back to offer herself even more to you which you gladly accept. Your hand moved to remove the rest of her clothes while you continue to suck and lick her nipples alternately.

As you leaned back, taking in the sight of her body, an overwhelming surge of conflicting emotions hit you like a tidal wave. Instead of happiness, tears began to stream down your face. You should have been ecstatic to be in this moment with her, but it just hurt too much. Your vision blurred as your eyes filled with tears, and you quickly wiped them away when you noticed Eula gazing at you with a worried expression.

You made an effort to force a smile before leaning down once more, allowing yourself to be enveloped by her arms. She pressed a loving kiss to your temple before pulling away slightly to gaze at your face, her eyes filled with a mixture of affection and concern.

"Don't cry… it's okay." Eula whispered, her voice carrying a soothing tone as she attempted to offer comfort, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was the reason behind your tears. You nodded in response, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. "Just for tonight... let me embrace you. Just for tonight..." You whispered back, sniffing slightly as you take a deep breath before giving her a gentle and reassuring smile.

Eula nods as she pulls you in another deep and long kiss while your hands wander all over her body. In an effort to savor the moment with Eula, you tried to push aside the thoughts that weighed heavily on your heart, determined to find enjoyment in the present. Eula let out a soft gasp when your fingers brushed against her wet heat. You played with her folds while you kissed her lovingly. Putting all your emotions into the kiss as the both of you moan.

"Please..." Eula's eyes begged for more and she didn't have to say any more. You knew what to do so you slid two fingers inside her slowly. You loved how tight she is, tightly hugging your fingers as you thrust in and out. Eula teared up as she kept moaning, it must've felt so good for her and you wanted to make it better so you moved your thumb to rub on her clit gently at first before gradually putting more force and speed. Your eyes focused on Eula's expressions, studying her every movement to know what she enjoys during this encounter.

"Harder... faster... please..." Eula managed to say in between her moans and whimpers and you quickly obliged, you pumped your fingers in and out as fast as you can while reaching deeper in each thrust making her dig her nails into your back. Eula's back arched off the bed in attempt to take you deeper.

You kept breathing heavily the whole time, her moans are music to your ears and you wanted more. You wanted to hear her voice more, touch her more, and you wanted to have her... all of her, all the time.

"I love you... I love you so much, Eula..." You continued to repeat yourself to her, but she appeared too lost in a combination of alcohol and pleasure to comprehend your words but you wanted to express yourself as much as possible so you kept confessing your feelings to her nonstop while pumping your fingers faster and faster. Until finally, Eula let out a long and loud moan, you feel her inner walls pulsating around your fingers as she covers them with her essence. You leaned down to kiss her deeply as you continued to finger her to prolong the climax.

"Ah... I..." Eula tried to talk while catching her breath, her eyes almost closing but she managed to caress your cheek gently while kissing you back weakly. You sighed as you pull away from the kiss to press your lips against her forehead lovingly,

Eula graced you with a warm smile, and for a brief moment, you thought you glimpsed a hint of affection in her eyes before she closed them, drifting off into sleep. You gazed down at her for a moment, attempting to clear your mind, but eventually, you let out a sigh and relinquished the effort to think. You settled down beside Eula, wrapping your arms around her protectively, and closed your eyes, finding solace in the embrace despite the turmoil within your heart.

You felt Eula's response as she hugged you back, drawing nearer as if seeking more of your warmth. She continued to murmur softly in her sleep, and you couldn't help but find it endearing, a tender moment amidst the complexities of your emotions. Maybe you do have a chance with her after all...

"I love you..." You whispered as you held Eula close under the blanket, you couldn't help but hope that when morning arrived and she was sober, she wouldn't regret anything that had transpired between you two. Wrapped in each other's embrace, you held onto that hope as you both drifted into a deep slumber.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

I’m not sure if you’ve ever said anything about this, but the first time I read new moon, the vote chapter, there was one bit that really stuck out:

(from Bella’s point of view) Edward grabbed my face in his hand, forcing me to look at him. His other hand was out, palm toward Carlisle. Carlisle ignored that.

Bella later went on to say it was hard to talk clearly with how Edward was holding her jaw. I don’t know if I’ve misunderstood what exactly was happening, but why did the entire family watch that and do nothing? I’ve read the metas where you’ve said it’d take a lot for Carlisle to realise what Edward really is, but surely that’s a pretty massive indicator and Carlisle actively ignored it?

Anon, you're hilarious.

An Aside in Which I Say "Look in the Mirror"

I've been running this blog for a few years now (a terrifying thought) and I'm both a) one of the most critical of Edward in this space (which is not a bad thing, mind, people are free to do what they like) b) often get asks in which I am asked by anons to justify why I think poorly of Edward.

This is on top of the thousands of metas I've written pointing out various things from canon, where I've presented many arguments, and anons still will ask me to make more arguments.

This is fandom, anon, relatively objective observers who are privy to information the characters in the story don't have. We know Bella's exact thoughts, we know how Edward has interacted with her in private, and we even know Edward's private thoughts for at least the duration of Twilight because of Midnight Sun.

AND YET, I AM HERE.

And you ask this as if it should be obvious to the most casual observer.

Back to Your Ask

I've discussed this at length in posts I'm too lazy to look up at the moment but the crux of it is that

a) Edward's a beloved family member and it's deeply hard to think ill of those we love and we want to justify their actions

b) the family doesn't see most of what goes on with Bella and are only told things by Alice and Edward with Alice being firmly on Edward's side

c) Due to his having previously had a redemption arc in which Edward came back unprompted to the diet even though it must have been not only humiliating but terrifying, Edward comes across as one of the Cullens who best understands that human life is worth protecting and just why they're all doing the diet.

This particular moment though, I'd also give Edward a pass if I was present. To touch Bella at all, to move her like this, Edward has to be extraordinarily gentle and careful. If he was at all rough with her, at all, Bella would be dead or seriously injured (with her jaw crushed between Edward's fingers, her neck snapped, etc.) Basically, for Edward to do this at all, he's being incredibly mindful and the Cullens as vampires are very aware of that.

Add onto that that Bella can speak, when this is a guy who's hand is made of stone, he has to be holding her incredibly gently from his perspective for her to be able to speak at all (and not have a broken jaw).

Also from the outside perspective, where Bella and Edward are in this romantic relationship (even though they just got out of being broken up) and they all know Edward's deeply in love with Bella, this looks like an intimate gesture than it does a "LOOK AT ME" gesture. It's not something any of them would do, or a normal person would, but they're also not dating Bella/convinced they're soulmates with her.

Add into that that they're in the middle of a very intense day, in which Edward had just tried to kill himself and is very emotionally fragile, Bella's now asking to be turned directly, the Volturi barely pardoned them, and Edward is coming unglued with the idea that Bella's going to be turned and the Cullens aren't at the top of their game.

They're just trying to get through the conversation where they tell Edward (and Rosalie) that, yes, they actually do have to turn Bella.

This doesn't register as physical violence to them, and I don't blame them for this one.

[rustingcat]

Cottage

"So your mother hid the fact that you inherited this place all this time?" Kara asked, moving her suitcase out of the way in order to step further inside the cottage between the fallen cobweb covered furniture.

"Yes, she used some legal loophole to hold that from me when I was a minor, and somehow kept it a secret she took to her grave. I only found out about when I started dealing with her legal stuff after her passing."

"I see." Kara nodded as she continued to look around the place. "It's been a while, why did you wait until now to come here?"

"I'm not sure." Lena said quietly. "I'm not even sure what I was expecting." She put down her travel bag. "This is more dust and dead spiders than a house, maybe we should just turn back and find a bed and breakfast." 

"No." Kara made her way back to Lena, walking around the fallen small dusty table on the ground. "We can leave if you want, but I feel like you wanted to come here for a reason, and I think we can still make it the romantic vacation we hoped for." Kara stepped in her space, caressing her cheek with her thumb as she cupped her face. 

"Kara look at this, this is dust and rubble at best." Lena swallowed the lump in her throat.

"This was your mother's home and despite how it may look now, we will make it the beautiful home it once was." Kara leaned in and kissed her softly. "How about we clean this place up, and then make a quick shopping trip to town to purchase some necessities and ingredients for a proper feast?"

God she was so in love with this woman. It was ridiculous just how in love with her she was. Leaning her forehead against Kara's and with the taste of her lips still on hers, Lena was presently reminded that she could actually voice it out loud for a change. Encouraged to do so in fact. "I love you." She whispered in the small bubble they created for themselves. 

She was rewarded with Kara's blinding smile, an "I love you too," and a peck on her lips.

"It sounds perfect. But how can we finish cleaning all of this before the stores close?"

"Well, need I remind you that your girlfriend is a superpowered alien and that superspeed is one of her powers?"

"Girlfriend?" Lena raised an eyebrow. Not that she was opposed to the title, but it was a subject they had yet to discuss. "We haven't even had our first date yet."

"Ah- well, um… if you want to be that is. It's not like we did anything in proper order anyway, right?" She let out a nervous chuckle.

"You're cute when you're nervous." Lena bit her lip, relishing in the new power she had over Kara, as the Kryptonian's face turned completely red. "And yes, girlfriend, partner, they're all great. I don't care what we call ourselves as long as I'm yours." She said and kissed her again, more deeply than before.

"Alright, girlfriend," Kara said, emphasising the word girlfriend with a smile once they parted. "Let's go, we have a lot of work to do." She took her hand and pulled her deeper into the cottage.

This chapter is slightly longer, so read the rest of it on AO3 along with the rest of the story

[blueclownsworld]

Hello :)

Do you write platonic?

If you do could you please write a father Aizawa in which he and his daughter fighted over some stupid thing and she ended up admiting something she thought she would never tell him? And then how he reacts over it?

(Maybe that she is of the lgtb+ or that she is dating someone she shouldnt because is older or something else)

Thanks :)

author's note: hiii !! yes, i do write platonic. more on my other account, but here as well ! ( aaaa also I loved writing this, hopefully you like it tooo )

🎀

"I am going to go to the mall", you state and stare at your father with unwavering determination. "You can't control my social life."

Aizawa sighs deeply and rubs the space between his eyebrows before answering sternly "I am not controlling your social life, I am simply telling you that you're cleaning your room first. And if I may remind you, this task of yours was supposed to be done three days ago."

You roll your eyes at him, crossing your arms. Aizawa could be so stubborn when he wanted to be, and you were no different.

"Look, it. doesn't. matter", you spell out to him, only annoying him further with your attitude. "The room isn't going to rotten during the couple of hours I spend at the mall."

"Yes, but this is a rule we established ages ago. Your duties come first, then friends", your father reminds and gives you a stern look with his tired eyes.

"Duties, duties and duties. It's all you talk about these days", you mutter and continue "What happened to 'Hey, how was your day?' 'Is there anything you'd like to talk about?' or 'Would you like to spend time with me?' ? Now it's just 'Did you clean your room like you promised to?' 'Your grades have dropped, pay more attention' and 'Do your damn duties, kid'."

Aizawa's eyebrows furrow at your words and he pauses to think. It was true that lately there had been this strange distance between the two of you, caused by multiple different factors coming together into a mess.

"You're focused on the wrong things, this is why I never told you about my girlfriend!" you finally yell the words that had been fighting to get out for a long time already.

~

For a long minute both of you just stare at each other with widened eyes, it was hard to determine which one of you were more shocked by your words.

Eventually your father clears his throat and decides to break the silence "..You have a girlfriend?" His tone was no longer harsh or annoyed, just purely curious.

You contemplate your answer for a moment before nodding "Yes, I have. I was planning to go to the mall with her."

"Why didn't you tell me? Was I truly that distanced from you?" he questioned, still not accusing or blaming you for anything. Only a hint of hurt was visible in his voice as he started to realise the true depth of the distance between you two.

"I.. I wasn't sure how you would react", you explain and fidget with your sleeve due to slight anxiety. He seemed very understanding at the moment, yet you couldn't help but to feel worried. "And it's just- you're far away."

'Far away.'

Those words truly crushed his heart. Being a parent was never easy, especially when the child grew older and started taking distance to their parent. It was hard to determine how long distance was natural and how long wasn't, yet now it hit him. You two were too far away.

"I'm so sorry", Aizawa whispers softly and takes your hands in his, meeting your eyes with gentle and loving ones. "I never meant to make you feel this way nor take distance. Know that I'll always do my best to support you, and you liking girls won't change that either."

You squeeze his hands tightly and try to hold back the invetable tears before he pulls you close and and allows you to cry on his shoulder while he caresses your hair to help you calm down again.

~

There were no words fitting for the moment, nor were they needed. You stayed in his arms for a long while before you two had an actual conversation, were you truly listened to each other and promised to work on the emotional distance. After that conversation you weren't hesistant to tell him things anymore, and you were reassured of his care for you.

🎀

[kisskawa]

— savour it cw smoking, addiction, canon compliant sorry, reader and gojo are friends in grief, partially set during shibuya arc ; title creds

you and shoko have taken to hiding around the grounds of tokyo jujutsu high, tucked behind the back of the dining hall or halfway down unused corridors, smoke escaping your parted lips. it's for your sake more than hers.

she offers you a cigarette, flipping open the packet lid with practiced ease, and leans in close enough to fill your field of vision. your lips curve around your cigarette with a smothered laugh, wobbling ever so slightly before she lights it. you inhale deeply, happily.

it burns down your throat as you draw in a breath, tracing a familiar path. the drag is soothing, calming, as the tires of schoolwork and training and missions slowly lift from your tense shoulders.

you make it four puffs before the tree you're leaning on shifts, leaves shaking as a stray branch is pushed to the side. lazy hiding place, you've been caught.

suguru plucks the cigarette from your lips without hesistation, dropping it to the floor where its stamped out under his dark boot. satisfied, he meets your eyes with a reminder, "don't you know those are bad for you?"

"it was just the one, suguru," you offer a placating smile and beside you, shoko snuffs out her own cigarette, "it's the end of the week, we were tired from lessons."

suguru sighs, more than aware just how draining the entire dire world of jujutsu sorcery can be. it's part understanding, moreso affection, that has his index finger tracing a line from your brow to your cupid's bow. "just the one over this whole week?"

you nod, letting his finger push into your lip, "promise." you've never had reason to lie to him, genuinely trying your best to cut down the habit.

suguru hums, easily won over as he murmurs the softest "alright" before kissing you, lips sliding over yours with poorly concealed mirth. suguru kisses you like he's trying to leave a lasting print on you, ignoring shoko's exasperated huff, ignoring the lack of air, ignoring it all. just you and vanilla lipbalm and residual smoke - he doesn't mind the taste all too much.

the kiss does its job, searing heat branding itself into your memory. it's an intense impression you return to more times than you care to admit, stare glassy and mind dazed. you're not sure how you ever lived without his lips on yours, not sure how you'll ever have to. because a month later, suguru geto is gone.

you wish you'd stopped smoking when he asked. now, without his support, you know you can't.

the habit follows you through a life suguru can't, through the pains of growing and the joys of experience. you're quick to soothe your nerves with a cigarette after a mission, quicker still when your students start getting sent out, one by one. you monitor them closely, hold onto them dearly, and hope you're not missing any signs that you should've seen.

it makes you blame yourself prematurely when you're late to arrive to shibuya. the reports will mention it, you're sure. having made your way there after a tense phonecall with gojo, you feel more than sick, stomach folding over and over in on itself.

out of habit, you pull out your pack of cigarettes, thumb seperating one from the rest. when gojo finds his way to your side, it's still unlit, though filling the space between your fingers as you fiddle mindlessly, just letting the weight ground you. you'll light it when this is over, you decide, when everyone's safe.

one look at geto undoes it all. you falter.

unable to keep your eyes on him and the messy, sickening stitches that disgrace his figure, you let your focus dart to gojo, finding him already looking at you. his features remain stoic in front of the imposter, but the quick drop of his gaze to your trembling hand gives his concern away.

you will yourself to stop shaking.

it doesn't work.

you'd known what had happened to suguru, of course you had. you still love the man who lost his way, the grief persists. gojo had kept you close, kept you protected when all turned to ashes and dangerous curses preyed on the vulnerable, the misguided. because despite the pain, gojo wouldn't let you hear it from anyone else, he couldn't.

seeing geto before you hurts more than anything. smile stretching wide across his face and eyes a gloomy storm, he's so unfamiliar that your chest aches. the reality of the situation drops onto your aching shoulders like a dense weight, ugly panic building in your core as heat pricks at your eyes and you struggle to breathe.

on instinct, your spare hand makes it way deep into your pocket, fabric only just covering your worsening shakes. your fingertips find metal and you hold onto the lighter tightly, bones creaking with the force. it was geto's lighter - suguru's - before he had discouraged your habit, deciding the shortlived pleasure wasn't worth the slow damage. it wasn't like he had smoked all that often anyways, mostly carrying around the lighter for your and shoko's use.

the worn wheel from years of use, the loud clinking lid, and the scratch of your shared initials carved into the base helps stave off the growing feeling of madness, of your mind finally breaking under its burdens. it leaves only a bitter taste. you nod at gojo, letting him know you're okay for now, as much as you can be. but nothing could've prepared you for geto's attention, eyes leering and accusing and finger pointing at your long forgotten cigarette, now crumpled in your grip.

voice like nails on a chalkboard, a shudder heaves and wracks its way up your spine, "don't you know those are bad for you?"

[kushielsmercy]

Happy Thursday folks, we've almost made it. Have a small stand-alone snippit from a fic I started this summer and finally admitted I'm never coming back to. Sorry Joe, you're staying kidnapped.

***

“Enough, enough!” Nile laughingly pounds on Nicky’s back, dizzy. “Put me down!” 

Nicky tightens his grip and spins them around twice more, faster, before giving in to her pleas and depositing her back onto the ground. Nile groans and falls onto her back, the Oregon sky spinning above her. 

“Gotta work on your sea legs, kid,” Andy calls from across the fire, cackling. 

Nicky turns on her, eyes twinkling. “Bella.’ 

“Don’t you dare,” Andy warns, holding her bottle of whiskey up in defense. She’s too late. Nicky swoops in, stooping to grab her thighs and lift her straight up, twirling in a circle. Andy does her best to look dignified, resting the whiskey on top of Nicky's head, waiting him out. He tilts his head back and she breaks, laughing as she pours liquor into his open mouth. 

Joe appears above Nile, blocking out the night’s sky. He grins down at her, glitter raining down from his hair. “You can’t be done already, this is your holiday.” She refuses to sit up just yet, but makes a grabby motion upwards to appease him. He obligingly passes a half-burnt sparkler over and then taps his against hers in a mock toast. 

“I still feel kind of weird celebrating,” she admits as Joe sits down beside her, watching Andy try to kick Nicky’s feet out from under him to steal back her cigarette. 

He hums, tilting his head in acknowledgement. “You’ll have many years to contemplate. But who knows when you’ll see that again,” he nods to where Nicky and Andy have come to a compromise, Andy riding piggyback while she holds the cigarette to his lips.

Nile snorts, sitting up and motioning for the last sparkler. Nicky had shot off the last real firework hours earlier with childlike glee.

“I guess it is July 16th anyway,” she says, “we could be celebrating anything. Fuck it. I’m celebrating electricity.” 

They’ve spent the last three months infiltrating a cult with known ties to a particularly nasty trafficking ring. Nicky and Andy were on the inside, trying to figure out where the money was coming from, while Joe and Nile had camped out in a shack a few miles away, listening to the others spit some particularly inventive slurs over the comms while they worked out the supply lines. 

Point being, Nile’s not feeling real patriotic. But they passed a run-down stand a few miles back advertising 75% O f all Fire orks!, the f and w lost to time, and Nicky had insisted they stop - the man’s never met an explosive he didn’t like. It’s close enough to the solstice that Andy had her annual itch to get blacked out next to a dangerously high fire, so, here they are. Celebrating something that isn’t quite the Fourth of July, but isn’t exactly not the Fourth of July either, existing in a liminal space between Nile’s waning national allegiances and a desperate homesickness ten years hasn’t been enough to shake. 

Joe, ever good at reading a room, lets the moment pass unremarked. He’s the best at that. Nicky gets caught off-guard by his own introspection, going suddenly quiet for days at a time. Andy doesn’t have much patience for the whole thing, she figures if she doesn’t know herself at this point then it’s all a lost cause anyway. Joe, on the other hand, thinks clearly, deeply, and at his own pace. Meaning he’ll probably have a lot to say on the complexities of celebrating problematic holidays a month from now, but that’s not going to stop him from making heart eyes at Nicky tonight. 

Nicky makes a grab for the last of the whiskey and Andy dodges, yanking all of her weight to the left so that they collapse to the ground together, rolling out of the fall. She springs up and gets a foot on Nicky’s chest, hamming it up as she downs the last of the bottle in victory. 

“My love, avenge me!” Nicky mimes dying, doing an appallingly poor job despite all his experience.

“Ah, but then who would carry on your memory?” Joe laments. 

Nile knocks her shoulder against his. “Looks like we’ve found the limits of your love at last,” she tells Nicky. “It was that gas station coffee.” 

Joe nods solemnly. “I can still feel its poison in my veins.” He lifts a hand shakily. “Even now, I’m too frail to walk.” 

Nicky bats Andy’s leg away, moving to stand up with the single-minded focus of the very drunk. “Good. Then it will be less work for me to get you on your back.” He struggles to get himself upright, which doesn’t bode well for his luck standing up anything else. 

Nile gags out of principle. By this point she’s all but immune to finding the two of them on any surface, at any time of the day, but she tries to remember she’s supposed to be offended at least once a week. 

Nicky collapses onto the ground beside them, rolling over to put his head on Joe’s lap. “I’ve missed you,” he says. 

Joe runs his fingers through Nicky’s hair. “And I, you.” 

These days, Nile knows that if she wakes first up and tastes rain, she should make sure Nicky has lemongrass tea. She knows Joe has never kept a pair of matching socks for more than a week but hates when one gets a hole in its heel, and that Andy loves cosmopolitans more than she will ever admit. She knows these people inside and out, but then occasionally they’ll do the most mundane shit and it’ll sneak up and hit her all again how long nine-hundred years really is. 

“Don’t you ever worry you’ll get tired of each other?” Nile asks absently, mostly joking. 

Nicky squints up at her, blinking through the alcohol. He pokes Joe in the chest. “She’s not making any sense.” 

Joe flicks his ear in admonishment. “Stop teasing her.” 

“No no, I’m serious,” Nile says, realizing as she says it that she is. Also possibly more drunk than she thought. “Like, what happens if you break up one day. How would that even work? I know you guys have the most epic romance in all of history, or whatever, but what happens if that ends? Am I going to have to swap weekends?”

“What’s romance have to do with it?” Nicky asks, propping himself up onto one elbow. 

Joe groans. “See what you’ve done?” 

Nicky hushes him. “I do not - choose - Joe. Choice is irrelevant.” 

Nile looks to Joe, who shrugs. “The last time I tried to remember my wife, some years ago, she ended up having Nicky eyes, his face,” he reaches down playfully, “his cock.” 

Nicky grinds up into his touch, relaxed and unashamed. 

“I am right here.” Nile pretends to shield her eyes.

Nicky makes a dismissive noise. “I would burn the world to the ground for Joe, and it would be an act of self-defense.” 

Joe makes a wounded noise then ducks down, pulling Nicky’s up to meet him halfway. Nile’s seen this show before, too much of this show before, and knows that’s her cue to leave. Or, in this case, wander the twenty feet away to where Andy’s set herself up with ‘smores. 

“They’ll fall asleep soon.” Andy passes her a sharpened stick with a marshmallow already speared. 

Nile shrugs. “It’s sweet, in a very X-rated kind of way.” She watches the marshmallow slowly brown, keeping her eyes carefully on the fire. “I just, I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever get something like that, you know?” 

“I don’t have a damn clue,” Andy says, reassuring as always. “But the world’s probably safer if you don’t.” 

[reasonsmandy]

The Hands of Fate

Camila Dunne x Reader

✧.* requested by anon — Hi I don't know if you're taking requests so I'm so sorry if you're not but if you are would I be able to ask for a Camila/male oc that she knew from highschool that lives in Chicago when everything kick's off.

✧.* summary — The lines of destiny walk in unlikely and incomprehensible ways and that's why it hurt so much every time Camila Dunne saw her husband reject her more and more. She was always there for everyone and no one was there for her but you.

✧.* warnings — none

✧.* word count — 3.3k

✧.* 🫀 — Camila's Masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — I'm actually so proud of this one, first time writing for my little angel and I miss her so so much. AND OMFG SHE'S SO GORGEOUS I CAN'T 😭

The lines of reality are shaped in doubtful and painful ways, sometimes momentary pleasures and sweetness as a kind of reward showing you the smoothest paths, the shortcuts, the ways to follow, the shields to create. As she watched her daughter's chest rise and fall Camila tried to understand where she had gone wrong, which way had she missed? When did she miss the exit? When had she let everything slip away from her so easily?

She felt fragile in the hands of fate, letting the thousands of timelines run through her mind like several short films. She always thought that everything she had endured this far had been for her, for that little girl who was not to blame for her father's heinous attitudes. She always thought that after they dealt with all that mess between them they would come out strong... But now she couldn't help thinking that if she was in fact strong she wouldn't put up with his shit.

It was unfair how he had a chance to leave everything, he had a chance to go through his breakdown, she had to be a mother, her daughter needed her. She couldn't go around drinking them all, she couldn't ignore all the obligations she had and throw a tantrum like she was sixteen again, after all, he took any chance of it from her, he made her lose her maturity by his hands like the source of a river in spring, she sees the waters flowing naturally and misses it when it doesn't come back like the used to. After all, a man never bathes in the same waters twice, and she was always reinventing everything she knew, that was Camila Dunne's life.

Since when has loving become this? She knew it wouldn't be an easy road, she was sure of that, but what kind of ordeal did she have to go through to be this difficult with Billy? Why did she have to rip out a piece of her heart to deserve a space in his? Why did she have to prove every time he stepped into the same room as her that she was worthy of a look?

It was suffocating to look for a hold, she always extended her hand but he never caught her in that jump, she always fell, she hurt, she got up, and it started all over again. And looking at the calm face of her daughter, who was sleeping peacefully in the hotel room, she understood that the hole she fell into was one she would never be able to fill, because no one could fill the insufficiency that fate holds eternally for Billy Dunne.

She feels the tears fall down her cheeks so naturally, her body still on that bed so big, a needle falling could be heard in that room, when had she normalized the presence of that pain taking over her husband's? She was so tired of feeling insufficient, of holding the whole world to her back while he pretended with smiles that he was the one providing the foundations.

She sighs deeply, gathering all the strength she didn't even know she still had inside her, approaching the little girl and placing a kiss on her forehead, she stops for a few moments resting her forehead on hers as if she was going to be able to recompose herself there, she needed to be strong for her, but she couldn't.

"I'm so sorry." She whispers to the little one who clutches her pillow between her sleep. "But I can't anymore, I tried, but I can't."

The smoke flooded her cognitive functions, all the choices she made until she reached the door of your house were like mental lapses, varied flashes of impulsive choices where she bundled up Julia and packed her suitcase with the aim of getting out of there as quickly as possible. She asks for the first taxi and gives him the address you gave her a long time ago in case she needed something, watching the streets of Chicago with anguish thinking about what would become of her, what would she do?

…

There's a fine line between kindness and giving your being for someone, and you knew Camila couldn't tell the difference. She is the kindest person in the world, she would do anything to see anyone happy even if it means burying her wants and needs until she doesn't see the light and loses her breath as she languishes among the earth. She got lost there among the worms in the dark earth, helpless indeed, she had no one but you that she could count on.

You knew her like every line on the palm of your hand, but not by observation like most people, not out of guesswork like most who watched her and deduced what she liked or didn't, you listened to her, you let her talk for hours and hours and actually listened to her. This was so unheard of in her setting that she felt as if she were on constant seawater where the sands of the water are always uncertain, where her feet would never know whether the ground would be firm or slippery, if there were holes or any kind of shell stones that would hurt her from the front.

Was the armor she learned to build necessary with you? Would she need all those mechanisms when she was in your presence? Did she have to scream to feel worthy of your gaze? You knew it wasn't easy to show her that she didn't have to, and you were willing to prove it.

Since high school, you were very close, after all, you had so much in common. You always made it very clear that the world wasn't ready for someone as extraordinary as her, and she always laughed thinking you were overreacting when it came to her, but you knew better. You saw her in a way that nobody sees, maybe not even herself after a certain time, you never stopped being close even after she started dating Billy and you moved to Chicago, it was necessary for you to be each other in a certain way.

So when Camila's life passed through the eye of the hurricane, you were there, as much as you could giving the support you got from a distance, you hated to see the situation where she lost a piece of herself to donate to the other, and that was when you tried to show that she deserved it more than crumbs of affection. You then said that when she felt ready to understand her true worth, to understand that she could be her best on her own and that she didn't depend on anyone else to be everything that she and her daughter needed, she could look for you in that apartment in Chicago.

Camila pulled her daughter closer to her, as if hiding the truth that that moment was dooming them, she takes a deep breath taking her trembling hands to the door and knocking three times on the wooden object, the harsh melody of the sound echoed through her body refreshed the tension of her choices, she looks away feeling her breath escape her lungs.

She hears his quiet steps towards the door, each step a relief from the anxious grip that has been living in her belly since she and her husband landed in this city. You turn the doorknob to find her weary figure with the little girl asleep in her lap, you frown in concern, immediately opening the door.

"Camila?" You give her space to come in, you know her, you know what coming here means. "What happened?"

"Where can I leave her sleeping?" Her voice was so weak it was like a breeze hitting your ears.

You point to your room and she, without precepts, guides the little one to the place, you arrange the room as much as you can for the unexpected visit, you try to ignore it but the nervousness was inevitable when she was near you. You sit on the couch, swinging your legs as you wait for the brunette to put the girl to sleep.

Camila props up the bedroom door and walks down the hall, leaning on it she closes her eyes collapsing in tears. The noise makes your chest tighten, you see the strongest woman you've ever known break down in front of you, it was scary you didn't know how to act.

You abruptly stand up, "Can I hug you?" You question slowly approaching her, she just nods through her tears.

She hugs you around the waist, her arms tremble around you and you wrap her around like a valuable treasure. For a while you are in a comfortable silence, you knew she was going to be in town but figured this time she'd be watching the band's soundcheck or something, but you decided not to ask until she's better for that conversation.

Time passes slowly for her, as if the torture of not knowing how to deal with the life she always dreamed of for herself grew more and more and her destiny was just to watch everything she always dreamed of among the dying flames like it was nothing. With every urge to cry, you wrap her around her more tightly, conveying in some way that you are there for her.

"Honey, don't you want to lie down?" You whisper after a while, she nods, you guide her to the couch. "Want to talk about it?"

"I don't know what else to do." She says running both hands through her hair. "I've done everything I could, all these years... To keep this family together, my family."

You see her tremble and take her hands carefully, without interrupting what she wants to say. "I just wanted things to be the way they used to, but I don't think Billy is going to be like that again, and I need to understand that."

"I'm so sorry Cami." You felt it was true when they said your heart cramps when you see your loved ones suffer. "You did everything you could, you are the best person, the best mother for Julia, the best wife. And if he didn't know how to recognize your worth, the fault is not in you, my dear."

She sighs in frustration, you hug her closer, "She's very proud of you, I'm sure." Your speech made her fall into tears, you know that her life is for her daughter, you wipe her tears.

"I just want her to be happy." She lays down on your chest, and you stroke her hair lovingly.

"And when are you going to give yourself a chance to be happy?" Your question leaves her speechless, and you don't press her to say anything. "Little Jules will be so much happier with her mom having that beautiful smile on her face."

Camila smiles weakly in thanks, she looks exhausted and you just wish she had time to rest from everything around her, you then stroke her hair once more whispering comforting words, giving her time to process and reassure her of everything she's able to do.

"You can rest, I'll take care of you." You say and feel as if after years she relaxes her muscles. "I promise you that everything will be fine when you wake up, or at least I will try to help you with that."

She closes her eyes and feels like she can ignore the world for once in her life, and rests in your arms. When she falls asleep, you put her on the couch and you see little Julia leave the room with her eyes tired because she just woke up.

"Hey Jules." You smile saying hello to the little one, who waves shyly at you. She threatens to call her mother but makes "shii" with her hands and widens her eyes when she sees her sleeping on the couch. "How about we make a snack for when mommy wakes up?" You suggest and the little one smiles excitedly, taking the hand you extend to her and following you into the kitchen.

As you step into the cozy kitchen with little Julia, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. Sunlight streams through the window, casting a gentle glow on the countertops adorned with colorful bowls and utensils.

You guide Julia to a sturdy wooden stool pulled up to the kitchen island, ensuring she can reach the ingredients effortlessly. The little one's eyes widen with curiosity and anticipation as she observes the array of fruits, bread, and spreads neatly arranged before her.

"Let's start by making some sandwiches," you suggest, grabbing a loaf of bread from the breadbox. Julia's face lights up with excitement as she watches you slice it into soft, even pieces. She eagerly takes charge of selecting various spreads, carefully spreading them on the bread slices with the enthusiasm only a child can possess.

Meanwhile, you retrieve a colorful assortment of fruits from a nearby bowl, encouraging Julia to pick her favorites. As she meticulously selects strawberries, banana slices, and blueberries, you can't help but marvel at her innocence and the way her eyes sparkle with delight.

Together, you assemble a delightful fruit platter, arranging the vibrant fruits into a pattern that resembles a cheerful smile. Julia giggles with delight, and you can't help but smile back, appreciating the joy she brings to even the simplest tasks.

As you reach for a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice, you notice a small step stool tucked away in the corner. Realizing that Julia might need a little extra help, you bring it over and place it next to her stool. Her eyes widen with anticipation as she eagerly climbs up and takes her seat, feeling like a kitchen assistant.

You pour the juice into two tall glasses, the liquid glistening in the sunlight, and place one in front of Julia. She takes a small sip, her eyes lighting up with the sweet tanginess, while you take a moment to savor the beauty of this shared moment.

With the sandwiches and fruit platter beautifully arranged on a decorative tray, you extend your hand to Julia, inviting her to carry it alongside you. She eagerly takes hold of your hand, her tiny fingers wrapping around yours, as you make your way back to the living room.

"Did you like it?" You ask in a calm voice, the little girl smiles and nods her head.

"Let's give it to mommy." She says with difficulty the words with scramble. She pulls her hand towards the living room, where Camila was already sitting, waking up slowly from her sleep. "Hi mommy, good morning." The little one says excitedly running to hug her.

"Good morning Jules, what were you guys doing?" She says kissing the little girl's forehead, you could see that she was airy, something had happened.

"Me and Y/N made a snack." She says proudly, pointing at you, you hold out the tray in your hand showing off your "project".

Camila smiles at you in gratitude, "I can't wait to try it, my love."

"Jules, I've got an idea." You say in a stilted voice, and the little one feels she's been called to an essential mission. "How about you prepare the balcony with pillows for mom? I have some in that room where you were sleeping, can you do that?"

"Yeah!" The little one exclaims excitedly, she goes skipping towards the room where she had slept and you take the time to sit there next to her mother.

"What happened?" You question, worried about the way she had the saddest face.

"Is it so obvious?" She asks despondently, resting her body entirely on the body of the couch. "It's almost showtime, Billy said if I thought we had a chance yet I should show up." she whispers

"And how do you feel about that?" You question, admiring the way she manages to be so beautiful.

"I feel guilty for not believing that there is still hope for us." She says and you notice she holds on to not cry, you hold her hand. "Very guilty."

"You did everything for this relationship..." You cup her face in your hands, "You gave your life for him, you lived this relationship for two people, actually... For three. You have full right to know that he has reached his end, and to know that this is his limit. Everything is fine Cami, this doesn't make you a horrible person."

"I feel so incapable of all of this." She rests her face in her hand, "Thank you for this, you're the only one who actually listens to me, you have no idea what that means."

"You don't have to thank her for anything." You assure her, stroking her cheeks. "Now, we have a snack made by your mini chef to eat."

You extend your hand to her, lifting Camila off the sofa, and guiding her to the balcony, where little Julia was already arranging the pillows.

As you step out onto the balcony with Camila, the warm breeze gently brushes against your skin, carrying with it a sense of serenity. The sight before you is transformed into a cozy oasis, as little Julia skillfully arranges a cluster of soft pillows and cushions on the floor, creating a comfortable space for Camila to relax.

Camila's eyes widen with surprise and appreciation as she takes in the tranquil scene. A small smile graces her lips, and she looks at Julia with admiration. "Wow, Jules, you did an amazing job! Thank you so much," she says, her voice filled with gratitude.

Julia beams with pride, her eyes shining with joy at her accomplishment. She pats the pillows, inviting Camila to take a seat, and you guide her to settle down amidst the plush cushions. As she sinks into the softness, Camila lets out a contented sigh, feeling the weight of the world slowly lift from her shoulders.

Taking your place next to her, you reach for the tray of sandwiches and the fruit platter that you prepared earlier. Julia eagerly joins in, her eyes dancing with excitement as she selects her favorite sandwich and takes a bite. The room fills with the sounds of satisfied munching and the occasional burst of laughter, as the three of you indulge in the simple joy of nourishing both body and soul.

As you watch Camila and Julia eat, a sense of warmth and fulfillment washes over you. This moment of shared companionship and comfort is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the power of love and support. It is a reminder that even in the face of adversity, there are moments of solace and connection that can carry us through.

You exchange glances with Camila, and there is a silent understanding that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you will be there for her. The unspoken promise of support and unwavering loyalty resonates between you, bringing a sense of solace to both of your hearts.

As the snacks disappear and the conversation flows effortlessly, you can see a hint of the burden lifting from Camila's shoulders. Her smile grows brighter, her laughter freer, as the weight of guilt and doubt gradually fades away.

In this moment, surrounded by love and the warmth of the sun's gentle rays, you realize that sometimes the simplest gestures, like sharing a meal together, can be the most profound acts of love and understanding. As the day unfolds, you know that whatever may come, you will face it together, drawing strength from the connection you have nurtured.

The balcony becomes a haven of serenity and hope, where Camila can momentarily set aside her worries and simply embrace the love and support surrounding her. And as the sun begins to set, casting a golden glow over the scene, you can't help but feel a renewed sense of determination and a belief that together, you can face whatever challenges lie ahead.

...

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[lollytea]

Adding to the Neverland idea where she transforms to her human size in his hand, but Hunter's strong and readjusts to still be holding her one handed. What if she appears full sized while she's in a sitting position and and she says "You know you're technically grabbing my butt now, right?" And that flusters Hunter enough to lose focus and drop her, only for her to land right on top of him and he's about to die of embarrassment.

ASGVSJNDK THESE ARE THE SILLY SHENANIGANS IM LOOKING FOR

She got nervous!! And she blurted out the first thought that sprung to mind which happened to be "You're touching my butt yknow"

He yelps, immediately scrabbles to get his hands off her butt, which just makes him let go of her entirely. But Willow, also operating on instinct, squeaks and throws her arms and legs around him before she falls and hurts herself, which results in him losing his balance and they both topple to the floor.

Hunter fucking plummeted to the cold hard floor and it hurt like a motherfucker but he is not thinking about that right now because there is now the weight of an utterly ethereal looking teenage girl pressing down against his chest. Hello?? Excuse me?? This man had never touched a pretty girl in his life. So touching Willow is like a guy who's never swam before getting tossed into the deep end. It is taking every bit of his will not to just. Faint.

Meanwhile Willow is still a little stunned. She's sometimes a bit playfully flirty with him but this is a very different experience. She's never laid on top of a boy's chest before. Especially not this boy. This is the first time she's ever been this close to him while in human form and its a lot. A lot more than she was expecting. There was Something about the difference in size between a human and fairy that created a comfortable detachment in the physical department.

That strange floppy strand of hair was more like a thick rope that she had to take in both her hands to yank on. Now it's so much more manageable, brushing across his forehead and it would be so easy to teasingly twirl it around her forefinger.

That sharply carved face of his, now staining a flowery red, the perfect size to press the palm of her hand against.

Before, if she had ever gotten up in his personal space, disobediently perching on the bridge of his nose, his eyes were too large and too close to appreciate in detail. Like being engulfed in a depthless sheet of rich colour. But now she can see those eyes in the way they're supposed to be seen. Blown wide, glinting in shock and awe, a strikingly burning hue in his irises.

He's prettier like this. Prettier when he's so....holdable....touchable...like he was crafted to be pressed against her chest, squeezed in her arms.

That's when he asks, uncharacateristically meek in tone, "Can you turn back to normal?"

"This is normal," Willow answers. "This is me too."

"Oh," He answers shakily and she wonders why he seems so scared.

Maybe...

"What's wrong, pirate?" She asks, getting a little daring now. She abandons her half-hearted attempt to climb off him and instead melts back against his chest. "Too heavy?"

"No," Some of his bite returns, though his face hasn't stopped flowering. If anything, Spring was in bloom.

"Then what's the problem?" She tries not to think too deeply about just how strong the body she's laying on is. She'll get distracted. "You love to complain about how annoying it is that I'm so small. Makes me hard to catch. Makes me a menace."

The temptation works in her favour in this case, as taking that silly strand of hair between her fingers is exactly what she should do in this situation. It drives him crazy. She can tell from how he wriggles. "Is this not more convenient for you?"

He has made no attempt to push her off. Strange, considering he's so ✨️big and strong.✨️

The pirate finally mutters in an unreadable tone. "No matter what you do, you'll never be convenient, fairy."

[possumsandprose]

Elriel Part 7: A Bridge Between Souls

Note: this is set at least a decade after ACOSF

TW: mentions of blood and the war

Word count: 800

Elain reached over to grab some sugar from the cabinet for the scones she was baking. She was in an excellent mood today, and had decided to make some blueberry scones for the family. As she moved her wrist, the small bracelet she was wearing jingled. She smiled at it. It was a beautiful golden charm bracelet. On it were strung a dozen or so charms, each of beautiful design, many containing precious stones. And each one held an important memory. It had been a gift from Azriel, many years ago. He had a matching chain with charms that she knew he kept hidden beneath his leathers.

Each year since she'd received the bracelet, she'd received a new charm from him, in representation of something important that had happened. She loved them all, of course, but her favourite was the small dagger, the first of them. It was fashioned to look like Truth-Teller, a small silver piece with small glimmering sapphires embedded along the hilt.

She thought back to that day, when she had slew the King of Hybern. It still seemed unreal to Elain, that she, the quiet, pacifistic flower grower, had killed the evil king, and saved her sister. Nesta had helped, of course, but it was she who made the strike. She found it even harder to believe that Az had entrusted her with his prized knife, which according to Rhys he'd never allowed anyone to touch before. And yet he had pressed it into her hands, placed his trust in her, and allowed her to take that piece of him.

When the battle had commenced, Elain had hidden in one of the tents, aiding the healers in whatever way she could. She had never seen so much bloodshed, and her heart ached for all the soldiers who fell, whose wounds could not be healed, and for the families who had lost their loved ones. But then, somewhere deep inside of her, she felt something. A tug, pulling her to a shadowy corner. She didn't know why, but she knew that she had to go. She stepped into the shadow, concentrating on going wherever it was she was needed.

It was then that she had appeared behind Hybern, knife in hand, watching in horror as he was about to kill Cassian and Nesta. A rage unlike anything she'd ever felt overtook her, and she surged forward and plunged the dagger into his neck.

"Don't you touch my sister."

It felt like centuries, but eventually the fighting came to an end. Rhys and Feyre were together, still reeling after Rhys' brief encounter with death. Elain was giving them some space, instead collecting more water from a nearby stream to give to Madja and the others.

"Elain." His soft voice floated through the air, accompanied by his scent. Elain turned, and there he was. His wings were still heavily bandaged, and his whole body was covered in blood, but he was alive. She ran forwards and hugged him, not caring that it was improper, or that perhaps she shouldn't be so forward. He seemed surprised for a moment, then hugged her back, holding her tight to his chest, breathing in her jasmine scent as though it were the only thing keeping him grounded.

"I'm...very grateful that you're alive. And thank you for giving me your knife. It was invaluable." Elain was still on edge from everything that had happened, but she found something deeply calming about his presence, and so as she said this she took out his knife from where it was strapped to her thigh and gave it back to him.

He accepted it, and said, "I'm very grateful that you're alive too. You saved not only my brother and your sister, but all of Prythian."

Elain smiled, pulling out of her reflection. The Truth-Teller token was a gift, a reminder of the bond they shared.

"Even though I cannot always be with you, or protect you as I wish I could, I want you to have this charm, so that you will always remember that I am there with you in spirt now and forever, and that you are stronger than you think." That's what he'd said to her as he gifted her the ornate jewelry, and Elain had never received a gift she'd loved more. The bracelet, and everything on it, was a reminder of their connection, of the bridge between their souls, and the bond they had forged by choice, rather than by the force of the Cauldron.

She finished her scone dough, placed them on a tray, and popped them in the oven. She knew that whatever would come, whatever life would throw at them, she'd be prepared, and that Az would have her back for it.

A/N: For this one it was really just a headcanon of mine, because I've always wanted a charm bracelet, and I think that it's something Elain would wear. (And Az, being a simp for his girl, would wear one too.)

Taglist:

@elriel-month

[bambirex]

A little request for you if you feel like it : A confident Sabrina comes across cocky Renfri at a fancy ball and tries to charm her, but gets interrupted by Renfri's plus one of the night showing up, Yennefer. Rivalry ensues for Renfri.

(A blend of Yenfri and rival Yenbrina, with the rarest ship of all, Renbrina. Aside from Geralt + Jaskier + Yennefer poly ship, it feels like Yennefer + Sabrina + Renfri would be so interesting.) Thank you as always for your time, your writing as always wonderful to read 💕

Oh I'm always happy to mix sapphic content and I always have room for more ships! And thank you for your kind words 💕

Warnings: brief mention of nudity, implied sexual content

**

"My, my. What a lucky night I'm having."

That voice, silky soft with a hint of dangerous venom, made Renfri turn around with a questioning look. She came face to face with a short, blonde woman in a dress so deeply cut-out, Renfri's eyes involuntary fell on her cleavage. The woman gave her a smirk, pushing her chest out even more.

"And you are?" Renfri asked, looking up at the woman's face. Her lips twitched, clearly offended that Renfri didn't know who she was.

"Sabrina Glevissig," she introduced herself, delicately holding out her hand. She obviously expected Renfri to give it a kiss. It made Renfri chuckle softly. She had enough of the courtly manners for a lifetime.

She shook Sabrina's hand, ignoring her offended little huff.

"I'm Renfri," she replied simply. Sabrina stepped closer to her, pushing herself into her personal space. Renfri caught a whiff of her sweet and spicy perfume.

The world suddenly turned blurry before her, as if she were in a dream. She saw Sabrina before her, but not like how she was at the ball, no: she was stark naked, giving Renfri the most seductive look.

"Well, what do you say, Renfri," Sabrina's voice echoed in her head, "would you like to get a taste?"

Renfri caught Sabrina's hand that was now resting on her shoulder, and the illusion faded away.

"Not sure I'm in the mood for poison tonight," Renfri replied with a smug grin. "I know your kind. You believe you can have me for dinner, but the thing is," she leaned in close, watching with glee as Sabrina's eyes sparked with interest, "I'm not an easy prey."

"She most definitely isn't," came a voice from behind Sabrina. Renfri pulled back with a grin as Yennefer approached them. Her sparkly black dress hugged her perfect curves, moving so majestically as she approached them. She sidled up to Renfri's side, taking possessive hold of her arm.

"I see you're still trying to pick apples from someone else's basket," Yennefer mused, giving Sabrina an icy glare. "You're way too predictable, dear."

"And I see you still refuse to share," Sabrina huffed, but her lips twitched into a smirk all the same. "Too bad. I could show your lovely companion a good time."

"How trashy," Yennefer grinned. She ran a hand up Renfri's spine, her fingers dancing across the thin material of her linen shirt. It made Renfri shiver with anticipation.

"Like you're the beacon of class," Sabrina laughed. Her eyes traveled over Yennefer's body shamelessly, and she licked her lips.

As Renfri watched this strange game between them unfold, she found herself growing intrigued. There was a passion burning between Yennefer and Sabrina, an unashamed desire only fueled by their rivalry.

"Or," Sabrina continued, reaching out her hands, one of them landing back on Renfri's shoulder, the other skimming Yennefer's waist, "we could see who enchants this lovely lady the most. And then, we can share a lovely night together. For good old times sake."

"Well, ladies, I'm learning more and more about you," Renfri grinned, giving Yennefer an eyebrow raise. She just shrugged innocently.

"I believe there's enough of me to share. And I think none of you would back down from a challenge."

"Certainly not," Yennefer breathed, giving Sabrina another heated look.

"Should we find a more private place, then?" Sabrina grinned, already flitting away.

Renfri held her arm out for Yennefer to take, grinning as Yennefer grabbed her passionately.

This night was sure going to be very interesting.

[amiedala]

SOMETHING HOLY

CHAPTER 4: Wreckage

WARNINGS: canon-compliant violence, mentions of PTSD, ANGST!

SUMMARY: Nova blinks. “What are you saying?” Her voice cracks down the syllable. 

“That neither of us are safe,” Din whispers. “That I cannot protect you. And that you are still a martyr, just waiting for her chance.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HAPPY SOMETHING HOLY SATURDAY!!! i am once again asking you to forgive me for going dark for 3 months. this chapter is told in vignettes and it is deeply personal to me. i hope you love it <3

If you're new here, Something More & Something Deeper are the first installments in this series, available on here & ao3!

The feeling of falling is impossible to get used to. 

Fighting—that’s what Din Djarin knows. But this unfettered, unhinged fall? It terrifies him. The lurch in his stomach is the same one when he first fell for Nova, back in the stars, lurching toward an unknown destination, leaving his heart boundless and open in the wreckage. But that falling felt like hope. 

This falling feels like fear. 

The ship crashes through dead space. Bo-Katan’s sleepless face is deathly white. Grogu is—thankfully—still asleep in his cradle, nestled into a crook of the ship in the corner. Wedge is clinging to the wall. Nova is looking over at him, terrified, afraid to tear her eyes away. 

Din rushes forward, lunging at her. “Hold on to me, baby,” he whispers, cradling her head in the cage of his gloved hand as he spurs them rattling toward the wall, the floor, somewhere relatively safe in the grand scheme of this uncontrolled falling. Logically, he knows there’s failsafes—mechanisms that keep this particular starfighter from exploding on impact. Bo-Katan ordered it specifically—it’s why her ship’s shell is forged in part by beskar, melting old helmets and pauldrons and chest plates down for repurpose, to protect new Mandalorian warriors. 

He didn’t like it at the time. Thought it was a waste. He sure as hell likes it now. Nova’s eyes are wide, open, terrified. 

She mouths something. He can’t make it out. It’s desperate, her face frazzled, that rift between her eyebrows knitted tight. The ship chitters and grinds, screeching out into the crush of space around them, as they fall, fall, fall. 

When the impact comes, Din does something he hasn’t since he was a child. 

He prays. 

*

Nova wakes up with dust around her. It feels like a tomb. Immediately, she splutters and kicks, away from the armored weight on her legs. Her ears are ringing, loud and unsettling. She can’t hear anything but the pulse of her own blood through her veins, and that tinny echolocation that comes with crashing. Her mouth is so dry. She blinks, taking stock of her body. Her right side feels bruised, like she has a rib or two broken. Her left wrist is wrenched at a painful angle, trapped beneath some wreckage. Nova takes a deep breath before she yanks it free, feeling her bones crunch together, settling back into place.

Stifling a small cry, Nova sits up, disoriented and damaged. She licks her tongue around in her mouth. It’s as much of a desert as Tatooine is. For some reason, that fact makes her tear up. Around her are giant, hulking pieces of beskar, scattered across terrestrial, midnight blue, terrain. Nova inhales a stuttered, hollow breath, wincing as her ribs cry out. 

“I’m up,” she whispers sourly to the ringing in her ears, willing it to quiet. It’s a stupid notion, but she does it anyway, blowing air out of her pursed lips to move her messy hair out of her eyes. It’s dark. Nighttime. There’s no moon, which should be unsettling. But it’s the least unsettling thing out here. Nova looks up at the stars, trying to remember what happened, why the starfighter is laying in pieces around her. 

“Nova.”

The noise is coming from the metal blocking her legs. Nova kicks again. A low groan echoes out of the metal, and, panicked, Nova scoots backward, hauling the beskar off of her shins. 

“Ouch.” It’s pointed, gruff. Nova’s heart accelerates, and she scrambles forward across the ground, through the wreckage she just kicked away. The metal on the ground belongs to Din, not the starfighter. He sighs through the modulator, garbled and strange, when Nova pries the helmer free of his neck. Nova’s tears well up again as she skates her fingers across Din’s face, savoring the familiar shape of his lips, his nose, his browline. “You kicked me.” 

Nova stifles a small sob. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t realize it was you.” 

Din squints up at her through the darkness, then up further to the blinking, milky stars above them, then back to Nova with concern jolted across his bare, beautiful face. “Are you hurt—”

“Wrist is injured,” Nova interrupts, but circles it around. It hurts—probably sprained—but it’s not broken. “Ribs are likely fractured,” she continues, wincing as she tries to sit up straight and immediately dropping her shoulders back down. “And my ears are ringing. No head injury, though. You?”

“I’m fine,” Din says immediately, leaning forward to run his hands over Nova’s face. His touch feels like a live wire. She shivers, even though it’s not cold out here. 

“What happened?” 

Din looks at her strangely. She can’t read the look on his face. “The ship failed. We—we crashed, Nova. You passed out on the way down.”

Nova swallows. “We—” But her sentence is paused by Din’s panic. It comes up from the depths, seizes in his eyes. 

“Grogu.” 

Nova looks around. There’s so much dust. It swirls in the air, invades her lungs. The same panic is contagious. She hurls herself to unsteady feet, trying to sort through pieces of metal to find his crib. The corner of the ship he was tucked away in is gone, like the starfighter was bisected as it was coming down. Din and Nova were on one side, Grogu, Bo-Katan, and Wedge on the other. If they can’t find the two of them, either—hope and terror war in Nova’s chest. She winces, bracing her own hand against her ribs. “Din—”

“Where,” Din says, low and dangerous, “is he?”

“Din,” Nova tries again, “the ship isn’t all here.” She meant it to be reassuring, but it comes out horrified, something terrible.

 “Where’s the rest of it?” 

Nova blinks. “I have no idea,” she whispers. Both of them stare at each other in the silence. “But Bo and Wedge aren’t here either. So if they’re with the rest of the ship, Grogu is too. He was on their side. He was in his crib. Statistically,” she says, trying to emulate confidence even as her voice shakes, “he’s probably fine.” 

“Statistics aren’t good enough, Novalise,” Din says, and Nova cringes away from his tone. It’s not angry. It’s panicked, upset. But it hurts all the same. “We have to find them.” 

Nova checks her pockets. Empty. Nothing but lint and dust. “I don’t have Ezra’s holo message—”

Din’s face is razor-sharp and Nova’s heart lurches. “Ezra’s not the only one who’s lost out here.” 

Nova swallows. “Listen,” she whispers, but he looks destroyed. Hollowed out. “Din,” she manages, stronger this time, “Grogu’s new crib is made out of beskar. And he has the Force. He once got our ship down to safety. On Dagobah. Remember? He could do it for himself.”

“You have the Force, too, Novalise,” Din says, and his voice is cutting, cruel. “Look how that helped us.” 

Nova blinks. Once, twice, trying to urge her heart back to resting level. “That’s not fair,” she whispers, her voice shaking, and the look on Din’s face nearly breaks her heart again. Regret swells up in his eyes, blooming in that shade of brown that still feels like home, but he doesn't move toward her, doesn’t let the poison out. “You just told me I passed out. What was I supposed to do if I was unconscious?” 

“It’s a fucking wasteland out here,” Din spits, “and we’re chasing after someone who doesn’t even want to be found.” 

Nova looks at him head-on. It’s like looking at a dead star, all vantablack rage. “That’s not fair, either,” she breathes.

“I didn’t want this,” Din snaps. It’s violent and so quiet, and it sends her reeling backwards, ankle rolling as Nova stumbles away from him. “I wanted to stay on Naator.” 

“The galaxy needs my help—”

“The galaxy doesn’t deserve it,” Din says, his words a knife. Nova swallows. It’s so opposite to what he said hours before. She reels back, like whiplash. Everything around them feels cosmic and huge, devastating. The air itself cracks and glimmers with a force that they can’t access. It makes Nova dizzy. High. She feels high. She has no idea where they are, but wherever she and Din landed isn’t stable. Everything about it is affecting him, whispering poison in his ears, leaking venom into his marrow. “Have you thought about that? You’ve done enough.” 

“It will never be enough,” Nova whispers, through shards of glass. “Do you understand me? I have to save everyone from the darkness that’s coming. And you’re supposed to believe in me. You swore to me that you would be by my side—” 

Din surges forward. It’s all-consuming, a collapsing star. Nova finds herself sucked back into his orbit, his armor thrashing in the low light, his eyes black and powerful. “I will be by your side until all the stars burn out, Novalise,” he hisses. It’s angry. A sucking wound. “But I will not let you die in your hedonistic mission to save people who don’t want it.” 

Nova blinks, his skin on hers, his hands laced through her hair. “This isn’t just about Ezra,” she manages, “is it?” 

Din’s so close. It feels like a heart attack. Suddenly, everything is aching and hot. “This is about us,” he cuts, his breath warm so close to her mouth. “Our family.” 

Nova blinks. “Din,” she says, slowly, carefully, “I belong to you. But I also belong to something…more.” 

“Well, that’s where we’re different, Novalise,” Din bites, “you are my something more.” 

Nova’s heart races, burns a hole through her chest. Everything feels disorienting, desperate. Alive, in a strange, sucking way, like the air here is devoid of oxygen. “Look at me,” she whispers. He already is, but she means something deeper than that. “Look—” 

Din’s eyes roll back in his head. And then, just like their starfighter, he crashes to the ground. 

*

On the other side of the wreckage, Bo-Katan is seething. Wedge has her furious, lithe body slung over one shoulder, carrying her away from the crash, to higher ground. 

“This is stupid.” 

“It’s our only—option,” Wedge says heavily, wincing against Bo-Katan’s furious fists pounding against his sore back, reinjured in the fall, permabruised from years of being a Rebel. “Stop hitting me.”

“It’s not our only option. You’re being—purposefully obtuse.” 

“I’m getting us a better vantage point. You, on the other hand, are acting like a child.”

“I am a Mandalorian!” Bo-Katan screeches. She must hear herself, because she does indeed stop hitting him. “I don’t give up. And I don’t walk away.” 

“We’re not walking away,” Wedge says evenly. “We are getting to higher ground.”

“Fuck higher ground,” Bo-Katan growls.

Wedge looks skyward, trying to tether his patience. “You’re being super mature, Bo-Katan. So mature, it astounds me. You’re acting like an adult, not at all like a sullen teenager.” He sighs. “General Kryze, ma’am.” 

“Shut up,” Bo-Katan snaps, shoving his shoulder again. “Wedge, put me down.” 

“Are you going to run back down the mountain?” 

“No.”

“You’re lying. And Grogu is okay.” He sounds a hell of a lot more confident than she feels. “He got us to the ground safely. He’s probably going to find Din and Nova right now. So we need to get up higher,” he grunts, hauling both of their bodies over a moss-covered boulder, “so we can see where their half of the ship landed.” 

“We need to go back in case they’re looking for us, too—”

“This is protocol.” 

Bo-Katan’s eyes narrow into slits. “Who died and put you in charge?” Both of them stop, immediately. Wedge’s feet don’t budge. Bo-Katan’s fists don’t lift. “Wedge,” she says, softly, “put me down.”

He listens, this time. She slides off his shoulder, as gracefully as someone who’s been slung over someone’s back can manage. “No one died,” he says, but it doesn’t sound like a statement. It comes out raised at the end. “Right?” 

Bo-Katan looks at him. For the first time, she takes stock of the grey hair sprouting at his temples, the laughter lines carved in his face. Wedge isn’t that much older than her, but right now, he looks it. “No one died.” 

“She’s—”

“Nova is fine.” Bo-Katan lifts her chin. “She’s fine.” 

Wedge gazes down back at the wreckage. Their half of the ship split in the sky and landed in the canyon. Bo-Katan, whose legs were locked in his, had already passed out from the altitude drop. Grogu was waving his tiny little arms, trying to get their mess to the ground without losing any more pieces. And Wedge was curled against the chair, clinging onto Bo-Katan for dear life, trying to think of anything else than how scared Arokel and Piper were when they plummeted to their deaths the same way, nearly exactly thirteen years before.

“No,” Wedge whispers, staring down through the smog at the crash, feeling the weight of the stars above them, “she’s not.” 

*

“Din,” Nova whispers, her voice shaking. And then, like her chest is being split open, she screams. “Din!” Panic is white-hot in her chest, alive and pulsing. It whispers to her, sings her melodies, threatening to spill the pulverized pieces all over the dusty floor. “Wake up,” Nova whispers. “Wake the fuck up.” 

He doesn’t stir.

Nova screams, pulling him closer, closer. She tears armor piece by piece off his unconscious body, trying to find a broken bone, an open wound, something to signify why and how he just dropped. Something she missed before. 

“I mean it,” she hisses, into the moonless night. “I can’t—” she stops, hauling a pauldron over her shoulder, ignoring the angry clang it makes against the broken wreckage of the ship scattered around them. Finally, she reaches his neck. Nova inhales, bracing herself, trying to steel herself for what comes next if she can’t find a pulse. “I can’t do this without you,” she whispers. “You want to be angry at me for things I have no control over. Fine. I can take it. What I can’t take,” she says, exhaling through her teeth, “is you being angry in death. So wake up.” 

With one terrible, sharp inhale, Nova presses two fingers against his pulse point. Din doesn’t stir, but she can feel it, thrumming and thready, but there. She closes her eyes in relief, trying to calm her rocketing heartbeat. It doesn’t listen. 

Gently, she removes the last piece of armor—a reinforced steel plate over his liver, his spleen. Once, a stormtrooper Sparmau sent had wedged a poison dagger between his ribs. Now, Nova realizes, staring down at her husband’s unconscious body, she’s worried this poison is already in his lungs. 

A flash—to a wisp of a thing, a dream of a wasteland. Her spread out on velvet bedsheets, his spearing hands vantablack in the night. That wanting was dangerous, a viper in her belly. Coiled tight enough to strike. Nova tries to bring herself back to center. This planet—wherever they are—isn’t that grayscale universe, where morality isn’t just a memory, where desire wars with danger. Din is not dead. Nova is in one piece.

Wherever Grogu and Bo-Katan and Wedge are—that’s on the other side of the wreckage. Nova chews on her bottom lip, willing it to be true. It’s a prayer, a true prayer into the beyond—not to the spirits of years past, not to the Jedi of her own heart. To the universe itself. 

Nova isn’t sure if she’s praying on behalf of herself or Din. 

It’s an exercise in futility. It’s the same soul, anyway. 

*

The night is low and heavy around them. Nova finally dragged Din to shelter in the mouth of a giant, nearby tree. Gnarled roots reach down into the earth below, somewhere beyond sight. The sky, devoid of any light, smells like rain is going to pour down, to unleash itself upon them. 

Nova doesn’t have any tinder or flint to make fire, no flame in this wild. It’s hard to tell the shapes of the planet in the dark, but with so many trees, it’s still green, still alive. So different from the anathema wastelands of Primea and Parnassos, so opposite from the eternal crush of the Unknown Regions’ starry space. She rubs her palms together. It’s not quite cold out here, but it is alive, palpable. The air is charged, and when the wind kicks in, it’s unsettling. Not like a normal breeze, but something else entirely. 

She looks down at Din. His eyebrows are slightly knitted, even in his unconscious state. She tried to give him mouth-to-mouth, to gently clean his face with water and her now-grubby shawl, but he hasn’t budged. His breathing has gotten louder, she realizes. It’s a tiny victory, but it’s a victory nonetheless. 

Nova’s Mandalorian armor is back on the ship. In her bedroom, the one she shared with Din. It’s useless, now, gone down with Bo-Katan and Wedge’s side of the starfighter. Inwardly, Nova kicks herself for not wearing it constantly like the other Mandalorians in her life do. It would be nice to have a little extra protection in the fall. Her bruised ribs howl every time she moves.

Sighing, Nova hauls herself to her feet. Before the skies unfurl, she starts collecting the pried-off pieces of Din’s armor like gold, combing through the dirt in the dark until she can’t haul any more beskar. She gently dumps it at the open mouth of the giant tree—a redwood, she thinks, like the ones on Endor—and goes back for Din’s helmet. 

It’s sitting, discarded, at the bottom of a small rockpile. She tossed it, haphazard, when she was trying to get to the root of Din’s injury—one that she never figured out. Nova, by now, has inspected every inch of his skin. There was barely anything torn, and no bruises or welts to signify that Din’s bleeding internally. She’s become an expert in brute strength, now, but with him unconscious, there was nothing stopping her from taking her time in the dark, with only Din’s tiny flashlight to roam over the vast expanse of his tan skin. 

Nova lifts the helmet. Something in the air shifts. Slowly, like she’s being watched, Nova carefully notches the helmet over her own head. It’s not calibrated to her; the metrics and measurements are off. The helmet startles awake like it senses an intruder. It smells like Din inside—metal, gunsmoke, heat, winter, and, as always, the slightest touch of cinnamon. Her knees weaken, taking one tiny beat to feel the ache of it all, before she realizes what she has on. 

Din’s helmet.

Din’s helmet, which has a commlink built in. 

Nova raises her fingers to the button on her right side—the ribs that feel slightly less injured—closing her eyes as she presses it. 

Please, she thinks, and then repeats it aloud. “Please.” 

Static. And then, something else—it warbles, low and anguished. Proof. Proof of what, exactly, she’s not sure—just that something’s there. 

“Uh,” Nova breathes, “This is… I’m Novalise.” She pauses, unsure of what to say. Nova’s just now realizing that Bo-Katan’s comms could be on a different frequency if she woke up before they did. If the planet has an interceptor. If they’re both out of range. She doesn’t know how to work this one—it’s different from her own, more complex, much newer. “I’m trying to reach—” she stops. This could be dangerous. Nova releases her hold on the button, taking a beat to collect her thoughts, her wits. 

“This is Novalise,” Nova tries again, with a stronger voice than she thought she could conjure. Steadfast. “Orange Leader, Rebel Alliance. The starfighter Victory crashed on this planet’s surface earlier today. Five on her crew; at least two alive and relatively unharmed.” Nova pauses. “In search of the remaining three. I do not have landmarks or a location name, but we are here, at the last transmitted location,” she says, “surviving the wreckage. If any of our crew is out there—” Nova’s voice breaks, just a little, “—so are we.” 

It’s nothing. There’s no identifying information in there, nothing except her name and her voice, reassurance that she and Din are alive, and hope that the rest of them made it out, too.

*

“Maybe we should go back down.” 

Bo-Katan glowers. “Excellent idea. Almost like we never should have climbed up here in the first place.” 

Wedge sighs. “Bo-Katan,” he says, evenly, carefully, “we don’t know—” 

“We know enough,” she snarls. Everything inside of her is coiled tight, taut, like a live wire. Everything hurts—her ribs, her knees, her ankle, her heart. Her heart most of all. “We know enough,” she repeats, slightly softer, more blunted. Wedge can handle her spikes—one of three people left alive who can tolerate the serrated blade that Bo-Katan Kryze has become. “We know the ship split. I saw Din tackle Nova before we lost consciousness. They’re on the other side.” Wedge’s eyes open and then shutter slightly. It’s miniscule, but Bo-Katan knows him well enough by now. “What?”

“You…you lost consciousness?” His voice is small. Not bold and sure, not the tone of a Rebel leader. Not the easygoing timbre that Wedge usually carries, level where the rest of them are uneven.

Bo-Katan studies him. To his credit, Wedge doesn’t flinch. She softens. A little. “Yes.” 

Wedge nods. No. He doesn’t nod. It’s just a motion upward, a sharp jut of his chin. Something is—off. Bo-Katan can still feel it, hanging in the air. “Wedge,” she says, slowly, “were you…awake the entire time?” 

He swallows, the bulge of his Adam’s apple appearing and receding in the nearly-there light. “Yes.” 

Bo-Katan regards him. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. It comes out clunky, disjointed. She surges forward, reaching her arms up to gently brace them on his shoulders, tense and held close to his chest. “I can’t imagine… what that must have been like for you.” 

Tears, thin and avoidant, well in his eyes. “I’ve been in crashes before.” 

Bo-Katan cocks her head. “Not like that,” she says, softly. 

Wedge swallows. “No,” he concedes. “No, not like that.” 

Bo-Katan sighs, aware she’s been holding onto him for too long, aware that she doesn’t yet want to let go. Carefully, she presses her lips together, down to a thin line. It looks scary, venomous, especially paired with her eyes narrowed into slits, but behind the mirage is fear. “I know you probably wish the ship didn’t split the way that it did,” she manages, finally, “and that you were stranded with Nova instead.” 

Wedge regards her carefully. “I wish the ship didn’t split at all,” he whispers. 

Bo-Katan exhales through her nose, licks her dry lips. “No. But if it had to happen, I…understand that you would prefer being with her. Your best friend’s kid, who also has the magic ability to tap into the Force. Or Din, who is an expert at navigating hostile territory.” 

Wedge manages a weak smile. “You make a good point.” 

Bo-Katan feels her guarded heart sink. Just a little. “Yeah, I know.”

“But,” Wedge says, “You have the uncanny ability to make the world begrudgingly bend for you,” he says, a tiny twinkle in his eye. “And I trust you.” 

Bo-Katan’s stomach drops, burns. “Why?” she asks, a desperate plea of a thing. It slips out before she can rein it in. She’s spent so much of her life pretending no one else’s opinion matters to her. But Wedge is her friend, her friend that wasn’t thrust into this with her. Who chooses to keep being her friend, even amidst how sharp and dangerous she is, the poison she’s spit at him.

“Because, despite what you tell yourself,” Wedge says, “you’re a good person, Bo-Katan. You’re also a smart and deeply terrifying one. And I have faith that, with all those resources, we can find them and Grogu.” 

Something seizes in Bo-Katan’s heart, but she can’t tell if it’s reignited panic or the thrush of friendship. Both, she supposes. 

“What does protocol say to do next?” she asks, instead of returning the words themselves. Wedge knows what her concession means—she trusts him, too.

“We wait until light,” he says. “Go to sleep, I’ll take the first watch.” 

Bo-Katan would typically argue with him—she’s a night owl in the same way she was once a Nite Owl—steadfastly, without exception—but she’s exhausted, and Wedge is showing her kindness. An out. With a curt nod, she finds a divot between the mountain’s range of boulders, trying to find a comfortable position. Under concealed cover, Bo-Katan tries her comm again, too afraid to get Wedge’s hopes up.

All she hears is static. 

*

In the dark, one thing moves along the planet’s surface. It’s weightless, gravitational pull paused by sheer will, or engineering, or the Force, or something more. 

A small, ceaseless crib; the baby inside it. Speeding faster, faster, through the night, cutting the halves of this planet to find someone.

*

“When I was fifteen,” Nova whispers, “my parents died.” 

She pokes at the sad clump of sticks and leaves she’d been able to scavenge from the general vicinity. In between checking Din’s pulse, regulating his breathing, she’s been telling him stories. He knows all of them—words and secrets exchanged in the dark, always transcending currency, always signifying something deeper. 

“They died on a Friday.” He knows this, too. Her voice is hollow. “Bad things,” Nova sighs, “aren’t supposed to happen on Fridays.” She brings one knee closer to her chest, looking up at the sky above them. It’s not visible now, the cloud cover thick and obfuscating. 

“But what I haven’t told you,” Nova continues, “is that the morning they died—probably an hour before Sparmau struck, if that—I had the strangest dream.” She traces a tip of her finger over the familiar hook of Din’s nose, willing her touch to bring him awake. “Tanks. Rows and rows of them. Not like the ones that the Rebel base used to have in the medical center. Not…simple bacta tanks. These were…almost cryogenic. I looked inside one, and I saw this…thing. I didn’t know what it was. I still don’t. But it scared me to the bone. I woke up yelling, out of deep sleep.” She swallows, closing her eyes. “No one was there to check on me. My parents had left that morning, kissed me goodbye for the very last time, and I didn’t wake up.” 

Nova kicks at the dust with one toe, sullen, forlorn. “So much has happened to me,” she whispers, “to me—to us—and it’s been in such quick succession. Since I met you, everything has mattered in these…massive, unshakable ways.” She inhales a stuttered breath. “But…I had forgotten so much about how large my world felt when I was still Andromeda.” It’s barely-there, a ghost of a whisper. Nova feels like saying it too loud will cause cataclysm. Everything is so close to wreckage already. It’s scattered around them like dust, like stars. 

“Until everything happened with Sparmau, I locked it away. I soldiered on. But it’s like…this whole mission, finding Ezra, moving towards something so much bigger than myself…it feels like it connects back to myself. Not the person I am now. The girl I used to be.” Nova closes her eyes. “It’s like I am stuck in this time loop, and I can’t figure a way out, I can’t move past the obstacles. All I can do is… return.” She stares down at Din’s unmoving form. “I am not leaving you,” she whispers, and it’s both a mantra and a promise. “I am not leaving you. I feel like I have lost myself. Like I am lost out there, in that—” she gestures upward, to the stars she cannot see, “—blinking blackness, and the only way back to myself is remembering.” Nova draws her knees into her chest, folding herself smaller and smaller. “The problem is,” she whispers, “I think I’ve forgotten what to remember.” 

A noise pierces the air. Nova starles forward, panicked—until she realizes what the sound is. It’s coming from Din’s open mouth. He wheezes, coughs, and opens his eyes. 

“Maker above,” Nova stutters, heartbeat racing. “You scared the life out of me.” Sobering, she crawls forward, pressing her forehead against Din’s in the dark.

“Where—”

“We crashed,” Nova whispers, stroking her hand over his face, “the starfighter crashed. Bo and Wedge and Grogu—they’re out there somewhere—”

His eyes are a lightning bolt of panic. “Are you okay?” His voice is so concerned, so frenzied, she feels tears prick in the back of her eyes. Slowly, she nods. Din studies her. “No,” he says, finally, “you’re not.”

Nova looks down at the pieces of armor she’s scattered around them like bullets, like roses. “I—”

“What’s wrong?” Din isn’t expecting an honest answer right away. Nova will hide it behind her smile, her teeth, and wait for it to seize in the night. She always tells him the truth, eventually—but she tends to bury her hurt in the bottom of her chest, sinking it to the ocean floor until it erupts. Volcanic, her feelings. Wild, white-hot—always everything, all-consuming. But she can live in that silence until it threatens to burst. 

Not now. 

“I thought we were going to die.” Her face is impossible to read, but fractured.

“But we didn’t.” There’s something alive, pulsing, in the undercurrent of his voice. But this isn’t the place to press it. This isn’t the place to press anything. So Din just stares, reaching out across the stars through the lifeline in her eyes, and hopes that she can feel it. 

*

Wedge stares, too. Up at the clouds, storm-heavy, gathered above them. Rain has held off, but it teases, lingers. 

To the silence around him, nothing more—he can admit it. He misses Luke. That hope—that eternal, epic stardust that lives behind blue eyes—it’s desperate, magnetic. Luke has grown so far beyond the boy he once was, but he still has that gentleness, that hopefulness, held like something precious inside of his heart. 

Wedge Antilles, right now, needs a little hope. 

Bo-Katan is wide awake. “I can feel you sulking.” 

Wedge’s heart accelerates, shoulders jumping upwards. “You’re supposed to be asleep.” 

She moves into position behind him, poised and graceful in her silence. He almost can’t sense her—it’s remarkable, really. “I slept plenty. It’s your turn.” 

Wedge’s shoulders relax. He is exhausted. “Bo-Katan—”

“Are you thinking about Nova?” She asks, not cutting, not cruel, just a plain question. “Or Luke?”

He stiffens. His cheeks burn. No one knows about this—the love he’s spent years harboring; hiding down in his chest. No one except Nova, and she doesn’t know the full story—how his own adherence to the rules left Luke behind in the dust, how he dreams every night of the love he lost, how he has visions of losing Luke to flashes of angry, red light. That the reason Luke has relocated to Ahch-To in the first place is because of words he said in anger—words Wedge didn’t mean, never meant at all. His fear—it lives on him, palpable. He knows someone as sharp as Bo-Katan can suss it out, smell it on his skin, who he is. “I—” 

“I won’t tell.” 

Three little words—what a universe they hold.

“Besides,” she sighs, slinging herself down on the boulder beside him, “I get it. It’s not easy to be… different.” She swallows, shrinking smaller. For a second, she looks like a little kid. Wedge’s heart has already softened so much for the woman warrior dressed in Mandalorian blue, but now—now, he sees himself in her. The way they love—even in this galaxy, going on and on—isn’t always accepted, and isn't always treated as pure. Wedge watches Bo-Katan deflate with that admission, sinking beside him. It’s a blip, and then she’s puffing her chest out, looking as indestructible as ever. “That man still carries a torch for you.” 

Wedge blinks. “You’ve met him all of three times—”

“Nothing,” Bo-Katan says, gently, “is subtle about Luke Skywalker.”

Wedge’s laugh slips out, palpable in the night. 

“Wedge,” Bo-Katan continues, softly, “we’re going to be okay.” 

And for just this moment, this tiny star of honesty laid bare, because it’s Bo-Katan the realist, he believes her.

*

“Let’s go.” 

Nova stares at him. “Din, go where—you just woke up. You were barely breathing, we’re not going anywhere—”

“I was tired.” 

Nova’s eyes open wider. “You didn’t go to sleep,” she whispers, moving toward him, “you were passed out. I thought you were going to die on me.” 

“I didn’t die.” The words are clipped through the modulator. 

She wants to argue. She wants to cry. But Nova just concedes with one terse nod. She’s picking her battles, and this one is not the correct one. 

“We have to find them,” Din continues, no-nonsense, beginning to collect pieces of armor scattered around him like strewn stars, wincing only a little. “There’s no telling how long we’ve been here. Where are we, by the way?” 

Nova dusts off her pants. Leaning against Din, both of them haul themselves to their feet. “I have no idea,” she whispers, brushing ashen ground out of his hair. It’s such an intimate gesture. It swells up between the two of them, after all the harshness they knifed out earlier, and she swallows it back, the enormity. “I think something is wrong with the air.” 

He doesn’t hesitate. “Take my helmet,” he insists, voice gruff. “Put it on.” 

Nova catches Din’s hand mid-air. He doesn’t even have his helmet in his palm yet—and something about that makes her chest tighten. “No,” she says, softly. “It’s not…toxic. The air is perfectly breathable—I ran metrics through your helmet when you first went down, just to make sure. It’s not like Parnassos. I mean… I think there’s something in the air that’s making us angry. Unhinged.” Unfettered, is what she means, but there’s an awful ache behind that word, something she can’t quite name but feels enormous all the same. “I think it’s meant to keep us at odds. We have to fight against it.” 

Din’s eyes crinkle, pained. “What did I say,” he breathes. Nova has to look away. He reaches out, seizing her jaw between his gloved fingers, keeping her suspended in his orbit. Nova feels her breath leave her mouth, loud and languid. “What did I say to you, before I passed out?” 

She blinks, swallows, stalls. “You don’t remember?” 

He shakes his head. That look in his eyes—haunted. It’s filled with ghosts, terrible ones, ones that threaten to swallow them both. 

Nova clears her throat, forces herself to meet his gaze. “It’s not important,” she says, sounding assured, determined. “Let’s keep moving.” 

Din’s grip tightens. Something like hunger swells in her lower body, heat flooding deep and intentional. “Tell me.” 

“That the galaxy doesn’t deserve my help,” Nova whispers, as flat as she can. There’s more, but that one is the most dangerous gut punch. 

Din closes his eyes, pained. “I didn’t mean that.”

“But you did,” Nova manages, “or you wouldn’t have said it at all.” 

For what feels like an eternity, neither of them move. Suspended, as if in amber, unmoving, locked to this strange, fallow ground; their love the only thing alive, only thing electric. 

“Let’s keep moving,” Nova repeats, taking his hand. This time, Din lets her.

*

Nightfall descends. It had already been night, stars glittering like motes of dust above them and the thin cloud cover, but there’s a significant line in the sand. It’s like the air is thicker, heavier, the skies above them darker. Nova moves forward, always forward, thumbnail slotted between teeth and tongue as she walks, ignoring the pain in her ribs, her feet, her heart. 

Din doesn’t speak. He’s catlike and sharp through the night. If Nova didn’t know he was behind her, she’d be convinced she was alone out here. For someone as built and strong as he is—adorned in all that armor, to boot—he makes virtually no noise. It’s unsettling. It’s endearing. 

They walk multiple klicks in that impending silence, the two of them so consumed in the battle inside their respective minds that words don’t resurface. As they move on, weighted by the armor and their injuries and the strange feeling of the air around them, the silence becomes palpable, loud. Unbearable. 

Nova turns around. Din isn’t paying attention. He walks smack into her. 

“Ow,” she says, pointedly. Din cocks his head to the left, reaching forward to smooth a hand over her face. Nova feels a flush rise to her cheeks, warm and rushing. “Listen—”

The skies open. All those stars above, hidden by the thin expanse of the cloud cover, are visible for a millisecond, and then the thrush of rain descends upon them, sweet-smelling like a hyacinth summer. Nova’s mouth gets stuck in an O, watching as the rain dances down Din’s armor, pooling over the silver. 

“What?”

Nova swallows. It’s like when the ship crashed, they did too. Both of them on either side of the wreckage, a line drawn in the sand. She doesn't know how to undo it, how to move them through this valley of suffering, this mass descent. 

“I didn’t crash the ship.” It’s not what she meant to say. She was going to apologize—for what, Nova isn’t sure. This chasm between them, maybe, this unholy ground they’re standing on. The past two weeks have been a time warp—one they’ve all almost died in. Now, Grogu is missing, Bo-Katan and Wedge are fractured off elsewhere, and the five of them are stranded on this planet in the middle of nowhere, with only a memory of a hologram to guide them, a hologram of a person who doesn’t want to be found. It’s cosmic, this situation, a cosmic sort of comedy, a humor that Nova doesn’t find funny but can’t help to laugh at regardless. “I didn’t do this.” Now she’s certain there’s something wrong with the planet, something in the air that itches at their skin, getting underneath, searching for the right chords to pull on to create that tension, that ache, that eventual snap. “Maybe it’s my fault we’re out here. Maybe we should have just stayed in bed. Maybe we should have turned around when we could, when Ezra first told us to. But we didn’t, and yes, it’s awful that we’re stranded here. It cuts me to know Grogu is out there, that Bo and Wedge are somewhere else, but Din, this isn’t my fault.” 

He stares, immovable in all that silver. “I never said it was.”

They’re both shouting over the rain, now. 

“Oh, but that doesn’t matter,” Nova spits, hair heavy as the skies pour down a deluge. She feels her words boil in her blood before they come out, an incineration. She doesn’t want it. She can’t seem to hold it back. “It doesn’t matter if you said it, because you’re blaming me for it anyway.”

He sighs, low and languid. Anger sparks up in Nova’s veins. She can’t explain it. In the base of her skull, in the basin of her heart—she’s screaming. The rational version of herself, the person she actually is, shrieking at herself to stop it. She can feel that line unhinge, the one that separates her from the Not-Nova she was in the dream, clicking those glittering teeth, blinking those black eyes. 

“I don’t blame you.” His voice is flat through the modulator, brimming with a kind of fury that hasn’t been set into motion quite yet. “For the ship failing.”

Nova lifts her chin. “But you do blame me for something.” 

“Yes!” The singular word is cutting, a knife. “Ezra told you he doesn’t wait to be found, Novalise. That it’s too dangerous. And, quite frankly, I believe him. So why are we out here,” he enunciates, gesturing at the planet around them with a closed fist, “when you’re having visions of how everything is connected? We could be home, on Mandalore—”

“You don’t think Mandalore is home.” 

“It’s a hell of a lot more of a home than this cesspit is.” Din’s yelling, now. “It’s where we’re safest, in a palace full of beskar and Mandalorians, instead of out here, looking for someone who has repeatedly asked you not to be found.” 

Nova stares at him. “Are you jealous?” 

Din snarls. It’s filled with vitriol. Nova stumbles backward. “Not of him.”

Suddenly, Nova feels weak, like her knees are about to give out. “Then what?”

“You are the patron saint of lost causes.” He says it so flatly. “And one of these days, it’s going to get you killed.” 

Nova blinks, staggering backwards like she’s been shot. “Din—”

“I was your lost cause,” he says, stabbing his chest with a finger as thunder strikes above them. “And then you saved me. And when I tried to keep you out of danger, you ran into it anyways, Novalise. Do you understand what that does to me? To watch you run into it, over and over, knowing that there’s only one of two ways it’s going to end?”

“I usually win!”

“What happens,” Din thunders, “when you stop winning?” 

Nova’s mouth is struck open as the rain intensifies. She wishes she couldn’t see Din’s form in front of her. This might hurt less. “You’re supposed to believe in me,” she whispers, barely audible over the crush of water around them, “you just told me that you wouldn’t let the darkness get me—” 

“And then we crashed out of the sky,” Din interrupts, and the anger is gone. He sounds stripped away, bare, “and I realize now that I cannot protect you.”

Nova blinks. “What are you saying?” Her voice cracks down the syllable. 

“That neither of us are safe,” Din whispers. “That I cannot protect you. And that you are still a martyr, just waiting for her chance.” 

Tears well in Nova’s eyes. Desperation and frustration war in her mind, and she presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, hard enough to see stars. “I don’t know how to prove to you by this point that I am not trying to die.”

“I cannot lose you.” 

Nova closes her eyes, against that admission, that prayer, that plea. “Please don’t give me an ultimatum. I cannot choose between you and fighting evil. Especially when we’re all in this deep. We can’t stop. And I can’t lose you either. Please.” 

Din watches her, palpable and unreadable under that visor. “I need you alive,” he whispers, “and I am not convinced that you need that as much as I do.” 

“Din—”

“What?” 

Nova stares behind him. “There’s a cave—back there.” 

He whips around, hand poised on his helmet, focusing in on the entrance. “Has that been there the whole time?”

Nova’s mouth opens, listless. “I don’t know,” she manages, and then they’re running towards it, towards shelter, out of the storm. 

*

It’s not a cave. It’s a building.

The building is cavernous, though—more mineral than architecture, like it was built off the open mouth of a cave. Like it was built before anything modern existed. It feels ancient in a way that seeps through Din’s skin, sinks into his blood. It’s freezing in here, and something is off. Din can feel it, even through the armor. He looks at Nova, soaked through, shivering down to the bone. Shame and regret pools in the basin of his stomach. He meant it—what he said, the fear at the base of it all—but, as usual, it came out wrong, all wrong. Fucked sideways. The air on this planet is heavy with unspoken words, ones that he never meant to say, ones that he wishes he could take back. 

Nova forges forward, arms wrapped around herself, one hand at the hilt of her lightsaber, like she could pull it out to defend them, poised to strike. But she’s freezing. He doesn’t have a spare cloak, he doesn’t have anything he can wrap around her. Her own shawl is currently wrapped around his body, trapped under the armor. Her body is taut like a live wire, and Din doesn’t trust himself to touch her. 

He can’t make up for the lack of faith he just spoke aloud. Not with his hands. Not with anything. It is unforgivable, it is—

“Which way?” 

He startles. Nova’s looking back at him, her green eyes gray and hooded in the dark. She’s looking expectedly at him, at the fork in the road ahead of them. If Din Djarin was the kind of person who noticed metaphors, this one would smack him in  the face. “Right.” 

She studies him. He can’t decide if it’s a test. Nova simply turns around and walks off to the left, grip tightening around the base of her saber. Something about the notion usually looks strong, like she’s a warrior—right now, she looks small, uncertain. Din can feel his heart fracture, and then the anger builds up even higher—nothing has gone right since the second they stepped off Naator. He wants to take it all back, everything he said. It was true, his fear—but not like that. 

The tunneled hallway comes to an end, abruptly, opening into another cavernous room. Din watches Nova stop first, her shoulders tighten. 

“No,” she whispers, and the word is a lightning strike. The Darksaber lights up in his own hand, jumping forward to defend her, to protect her, to do something— “Look.”

Across the wall, there are rows and rows of empty, identical tanks.

*

“I don’t understand.” 

Nova closes her eyes. She knows this room. She’s dreamt about it. This is the place from her dream—the one she had the morning her parents died, these rows of horrible tanks. Everything is running together—the images from visions, both of hers and others’—but she knows this place, somewhere deep in her memories. 

It doesn’t feel like a coincidence. She doesn’t believe in coincidences. 

It comes to her—a jolt. “Grogu,” she whispers, and the word holds the weight of an entire world. Behind her, she can feel Din recoil. “This—these tanks. They’re cloning tanks, midichlorian tanks.” 

“I don’t know what that means—”

“It’s what Gideon was trying to harvest from him,” Nova whispers, sickened, distraught. “To take from him, what he would have taken from me. Midichlorians—I don’t understand, exactly, but they’re something anyone who’s Force sensitive has. In our blood. It’s powerful.” She swallows, feeling violated, just standing in this place— “Maker,” she manages, her voice shaking, nausea rising in her stomach, “there are hundreds of them, Din.” 

“What is this place?” He whispers, pained and awful through the modulator. “Is this—?” 

“Mass extinction,” Nova interrupts, bile swirling in the base of her throat, burning a hole in her esophagus. “This place—this place was used to kill Jedi. Strip them for parts and use those parts to create something…evil.” Her stomach twists. She closes her eyes against it, can feel the horror ringing through here, can feel the pain, the fear—it’s alive in her in the same way it was for all of them. She suddenly cannot bear it, the weight of discovery. It’s a metaphor for everything she’s been shouldering, carrying around so no one else has to. “This place is evil, Din.” 

He reaches for her. She pulls away. Nova can’t see his face, but she senses the betrayal. But it’s not about him. It’s about the fact that death is surrounding her, chasing her, hunting her and her people down—over and over again, there is a slaughter, and she is the lamb. She is not trying to die. But this place feels like the world is ending, over and over again, and suddenly, Nova doesn’t want to fight it back. She cannot hold this, she cannot fight back against an evil this deep. Defeat faces her, weary and comforting. An old friend. 

“Novalise,” he says gently, evenly, and even as Nova shrinks away, curling into herself, away from the tanks, “there’s nothing here.” 

Nova stares up at him, jolted. She stares at the wall; the tanks stare back. “That’s low,” she whispers. “I am not crazy.”

“No,” Din says, and he reaches towards her again, hands lifting her chin, catching the bend of her arm, anchoring her against him. “The tanks are here. This place existed. I believe you—your vision, what Grogu showed you. I mean whatever evil that was once here is long gone.” 

Nova blinks. “It’s not,” she whispers. “I can feel it.” 

Din doesn’t move. He doesn’t try to wrench her away. He seems to be battling something, warring something deep within himself. And then he stoops down to one knee, then the other. “I believe you.” He is lowering himself in front of her, making himself smaller. This hulking Mandalorian warrior—her Mandalorian—is shrinking, on his knees. This, too, is a plea—but it’s one that Nova is familiar with. He’s giving himself over to her. It’s a prayer.

“What are you doing?” 

“Destroy it.” 

Nova blinks. Once, twice. That’s not at all what she was expecting. “What?” 

“You said there’s horror here. Raze it to the ground.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“You belong to something more,” Din whispers, through the darkness, “something I don’t understand. And I’m sorry for that, Novalise, I am. But just because I don’t understand it doesn’t make it any less real. I told you I’d get the kerosene. But you are perfectly capable of burning this down yourself.” 

Nova stares down at him. The helmet is so opaque. She licks her lips, darting her tongue over the parting, then lifts her hands to either side of the helmet, hooking them underneath the rim. Din doesn’t resist. He lets her pull it free. Something settles between the two of them as their eyes lock, that dark brown on her sage green, meeting somewhere in the middle. 

“There’s something wrong with me,” he whispers, his face fracturing, just a little. Nova knows the fault line. “Something…wrong with this planet. But you—”

She shakes her head. “No. There’s something wrong with me, too.” 

Din’s breath hitches. He grabs at her hand, yanks it to his face. His eyes shutter as she traces the shape of his jawline. There’s something holy underneath all of this, still—under all of the horror, under this uncertain ground. “Call it even?” 

She looks at him. “Until we get off this planet,” Nova whispers, “I won’t hold anything against you.” 

Din swallows. There’s a spark of something in his eyes—self-loathing, a flagellation—but he blinks, and it dissipates. Nova aches all over. She wants to take it all back, the words they hurled at each other out in the rain. She doesn’t understand any of this, how it all went so wrong. But she doesn’t say any of this aloud. There will be time for it later. Nova anchors one of his hands over his heart. 

“Whatever’s wrong,” she says, stronger now, “we will survive it.” 

Din nods.

“Get up.” 

He does, obedient. Nova points to the mouth of the entrance they just come out of, and Din moves back into the shadows, helmet slotting back over his beautiful, tortured face, resolute. She takes a breath, igniting the lightsaber. “Stay back,” she warns, “and don’t get caught in the crossfire.” And then she cleaves the yellow light through the tank in the center. 

It should feel more cathartic. Like a release. 

It doesn’t. 

Nova feels hypnotic, dangerous. In her mind, she is not here. She is in the clutches of Sparmau’s grasp. She is looking herself head-on in the vision of Yavin, corrupted and awful. She is a wildfire. She is standing in the pouring rain. She is watching her parents’ ship crash over and over and over again. She is losing everyone she loves, slipping through her hands. She is being left on Dantooine. She is the chittering pulse of a sinking spaceship. She is tracing the lines of betrayal on Din’s face when she returned to him after promising never to leave in the first place. She is watching Grogu’s terrified visions of leaving the Jedi Temple as it is being sieged. She is witnessing every single person she’s ever loved be cut down for their proximity to her, this Jedi light, this bright abomination. She is removing the crown on her head. She is not Novalise. Not now. She is not Andromeda. She is every Force sensitive person that has ever come before her, ripped to shreds, stripped down to bones and gore. 

Nova is Novalise until she isn’t.

Right now, she can’t find her body. She can’t find the tether to come back to. There is something haunted here, something she knows in her bones, something that knows her, too. She is looking into a mirror, and it is peering back, stepping into her body. She wants to be inhospitable. She is exhausted of being a conduit, but right now she is electric. This darkness, the horror here—it cannot survive Novalise. 

It cannot survive the light. 

She is ripping this place to shreds, incinerating it. There is fire all around her, the yellow pulse of her lightsaber spitting in tandem with the light of the flame. Over and over, Nova slashes, cleaving each tank in two. She hacks at the hissing, spitting water as it meets her ignited blade. She butchers the pieces of metal and glass until they’re splinters on the floor, something that cannot be magicked back together. There will be no evidence left of the danger when she is done. No one will enter this cavern and see the pain that the Dark Side caused. And maybe that’s selfish, erasing history, but Nova doesn’t care. People don’t need any more proof how evil the darkness is, how it takes and takes and takes. 

The galaxy has seen it, over and over again. It has born witness to the Sith, the Empire, Palpatine, the First Order, Sparmau, the man Ezra was trapped out in deep space with. It repeats itself.

Novalise will not let this particular horror survive. Gideon is dead. His ideas will die with him. And there’s a beauty in that, a satisfaction. She drags the yellow blade of her lightsaber through the last standing piece of equipment—the control panel in the middle of the floor.

It explodes. Nova has ripped absolutely everything to nothing, to shrapnel, herself included. She closes her eyes, engulfed in the avenging light. 

And then she comes back to herself. With a roar, she propels herself backwards, out of the fire, out of the flame, out of the firing zone. The horrific place she stepped into is razed to the ground. She does not die. Novalise is running from the danger, hand clasped in Din’s, both of them hurtling towards that gaping maw of an entrance, right before the flame swallows the entirety of the building whole. On the ground, Nova reaches towards Din, always towards Din. 

“I don’t,” she heaves, coughing splinters and smoke from her lungs, “want to die.” 

He stares at her, under the helmet. “I believe you.” Neither of them can tell if he’s telling the truth.

Right now, Nova doesn’t care. She believes herself, and that’s enough. Her eyes close. She doesn’t see the ship descending upon them.

*

Din does, though. He feels her lose consciousness again, this horrible day splayed on an endless loop. Everything hurts. Regrets pool like acid in the pit of his stomach. This whole mission—it’s impossibly fucked sideways. They never should have come here. It opened a wound he never though existed in the first place.

The starship creeps closer and closer, searchlight panning them in a perfect circle like a beacon. Din has no idea who this is—if it’s Wedge and Bo-Katan, come to save them both. If it’s an enemy. If it’s Ezra Bridger himself, descending upon them to close Nova’s loop of self-destruction. If it’s someone from Mandalore. If it’s someone who means them harm. Din braces himself on his knees, curled over the woman he loves, refusing to let her get caught. Not while she’s unconscious. Not when she’s not herself. He shields her from the incendiary floodlight of the ship above them. “Nova,” he says, urgently. 

She blinks up at him. It’s a beautiful, tortured sight—her sage green eyes spark in the warmth of the glow above them. 

“I’m fine,” she insists, but her face shutters like a slamming door. 

He stares at her, a blaze of light in the enclosing darkness, holding strong—even after all this. 

His Novalise—honey and vigor, danger and starlight, his divining rod. She’s flickering around the edges. 

And for the first time, Din lets himself think of the scariest thing he can imagine. In this dying thrash, her hand reaching up to the ship descending upon both of them—to hold or to fight, he’s not sure—Nova is not nearly as steady as she once was.

*

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*

i hope you loved it!! i sincerely apologize for disappearing again. for the first time since i started writing the Something More Series, though, it wasn't because i ended up in the hospital! i began a new full-time job, i've gone to see Taylor Swift on the Eras Tour, i've been traveling, reading, writing my own novel (gasp), seeing friends, spending time with my partner and our families, and overall living my life for the first real time since i was 18. i promise i am going to finish SH, but updates might be slower and shorter from this point forward. i'm not going to promise an upload date, but my hope is that it's very, very soon. thank you so much for still being here, if you are. i appreciate each and every single one of you!!!

CHAPTER 5 COMING SOON!

xoxo,

amelie

[lovecolibri]

SaL anon here friend, stuck somewhere between cheering "We're back baby!!" and "WTF was that 😳😳😳!!!???". We've got the firefam back and going strong in every way, be it collectively or with their partners, and the vibes have been sorely missed. On the other hand exactly how are we supposed to interpret Buck and Eddie's relationship other than exactly what you're putting on the damn screen Tim??!! There's literally only one logical conclusion to completing the Diaz family once Eddie is asking Buck directly to help him parent, and it sure as hell isn't Folger's coffee Marisol (or KR's mom's best friend). Also when the stage direction for these two is apparently "make a lot of sexual innuendos but with only facial expressions" while Ryan's direction in the Marisol scenes is "act like she's present" 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️. Anywho, loved this start to the season, it ranged seamlessly from deeply personal to jello talk (to the very non subtle Natalia bashing) and if this is what we're in for I'm very much on board, so cheers friend and let's welcome our show home!!

Yooooo! How are we feeling after that episode?! It was WILD, right? Hands down the best premier episode they've had since season 3. Plus, the emergency for the next two (!!!) episodes looks like it's going to be the heart-pounding and engaging action that actually hits some emotional beats that we've sorely missed! Tim is bringing that sweet, sweet, firefam energy and it's PALPABLE in every scene where the heart of the show lies, and that is with our mains. (We didn't get a lot of Hen, but I feel like she's going to be featured more heavily next week which we probably wouldn't have noticed if the show got a 2 hour premier like the big emergencies used to get.)

The Buddie stuff was....whoo boy. Having the blurry background gf for the flashback to the date, but Buck being the one Eddie goes to when an issue comes up? LOUD! Buck being asked to step in and co-parent when the difficult conversation needs to happen? LOUD! Having Buck and Shannon sit in the same place on the bed to "talk" to Chris? LOUD LOUD LOUD! At the end of the day, I'm just happy we're getting to see Buddie have scenes together and actually SEE that they are best friends and in each other's pockets. But also, like...how are you going to establish that there isn't anyone who can co-parent with Eddie like Buck can and expect anyone to root for either of them forcing some rando into that space?! And don't get me started on that weird serial killer grimace smile Marisol has painted onto her face. She had a blip second of screentime and it was already SO cringe. Can we just be done with that now?

Speaking of done, I am STILL laughing at Tim coming in like, "The death doula was STUPID, it wasn't at ALL what Buck would need or want, and we aren't gonna do it! I planned a scene, but actually we have more important stuff to do!" Meanwhile, the "more important stuff" was Eddie being shirtless while Buck ogles him, Eddie putting his hand on Buck's pulse again while Buck blushes and smiles, Buck talking about sexual tension while walking towards Eddie dick first and holding a fire extinguisher hose in front of his crotch and proceeding to spray it, Buck and Eddie co-parenting seamlessly, and basically Buck and Eddie making heart eyes at each other any time the other did anything. If nothing else, Tim has a WEALTH of info to point back to as signposts if anyone wants to try and argue that Buddie came out of nowhere, like DAMN. Get a ROOM you two!

ANYWAY. I'm stoked for next week! I am ready to see Bobby and Athena going through it while the firefam are fighting to get to them! I am READY to see more Madney being adorable and heartfelt and their scenes being funny while not just being played off for laughs (not that KR was ever able to keep Kenny and JLH from bring the feels in every interaction because they're actually good at their jobs, but you know what I mean). I am dyyyyying to know what Hen and Karen are up to right now, and I am ready to see the whole crew back at work! (I'm also here for any more shade Timmy wants to throw around because some of the comments, and some of the lines in the show have got me like 🤭🤭🤭)

ABC came out swinging with all the promo and having EVERYONE doing interviews (god bless, Oliver needed a break), and the premier episode absolutely backed up all that work and money they put in. I am cautiously optimistic that, at least as far as getting the show back on track to those early season vibes, we are in for some good times and delicious drama that is still human and centered instead of OTT soapy. Cheers and fingers crossed this momentum keeps up and gets people engaged so we can get a full season 8!

[lgctaeha]

「 ❀ 」  ━━ ˗ˏˋ DO YOU OR DO YOU NOT !

NOSTALGIA ✿ PREP WEEK 7

It almost feels like an average day of rehearsals back in Taeha's usual practice room, albeit a bit cramped with all of the female trainees squeezing into one space. The Agito track plays on somewhat of a loop, the only interruption being a few pointers here and there from the coaches and the special guests of the affair. Though there is just too many of them and just too little time for in depth help, she appreciates having senior idols sit in ( despite how nerve wracking it could be to perform a song in front of the ones who have already perfected it on stage after stage ).

Their final run-through of the day seems to go off without a hitch. The girls have proven themselves in rehearsal and the only thing left was to bring all their hard work to the Nostalgia stage. There's a moment of debriefing - consider the critiques you've been given, practice in your free time, remember to have fun! - and the girls

'Taeha, can we chat for a moment.'

"Hm?" her brows lift, blinking over at the dance coach in confusion. "Me? Oh, yes, of course!" The other girls exchange a few concerned glances before shuffling out of the room. "Did I do something wrong - ?"

'No, nothing like that. You've been doing a great job with rehearsals. I can tell you're confident in the choreography, your musicality has improved a lot, and your stage presence has really shined this trimester. It's just... You seem... A bit distracted these days. Is something going on?'

She furrows her brows, nervously gripping at her backpack's straps. "I'm... not sure I know what you mean."

'Well, you've been spending more time alone between practice sessions. And more than one coach has commented on you daydreaming during critiques. Do you even remember the feedback you were given from your seniors?'

"Yes! Um... Variation in expression... Relax into the routine... More confidence in my rap - I was paying attention! I promise!" The coach doesn't seem to be very convinced, sighing deeply as she tucks her padfolio containing each trainee's individual report under her arm. 'Just stay focused. We want this last week to be your best yet.'

"It will be!" she beams, holding up her fist with a determined look in her eye. The coach huffs a laugh and dismisses her with a wave. She bows her head slightly and starts for the door - until a sudden thought gives her pause. "Coach, can I... ask you a question?!"

'What is i - ?'

"Are you married?" she blurts, eyes wide and brimming with anticipation.

The coach's endeared expression falters, sputtering an answer in shock. 'I - I don't discuss my personal life at -'

"It's alright, you can tell me! It will be our secret! What about a boyfriend? You know, I've been thinking about and I really think that you and - "

'Park Taeha.' She silences her with a raise of her hand, tone stern now. 'We were just discussing you staying focused on the performances? I know all about your little... hobby. But I ask that you please leave that sort of thing at the entrance doors. Your only priority should be matching yourself with the idol you want to be. Understood?'

"But, but, but - !"

There's no more room for debate as the coach shuffles her off into the hall. There are a few trainees waiting for her, their expressions full of concern with how hastily Taeha was rushed off. Still, she would not be deterred... All the woman's apprehension was just a little speed bump! Taeha - no, love - would persevere!