#i was pulling up my ship notes for something else and got distracted by this

[unfriendlyamazon]

by any other name (pirate au)

y'all are getting all sorts of things out of my archives but talking to @alectoperdita reminded me of this pirates au i've had sitting in a folder for a long time and i wrote this silly little piece just to kind of play with crew dynamics i guess

no warnings just a silly little scene and this takes place after joey and seto have begun a relationship (and if you like pirates you can read my kaijou scene from my au project a few years back)

It’d been an industrious morning for the crew of the Summoned Skull. Ammunitions weighed and secured, cargo stacked, deck swabbed, and the ship drifted through the open Atlantic, winds carrying half-filled sails south along the coast. A lazy afternoon sun made the brass and wood too hot to work over. Even the terrifying skull faced visage protruding from the bow seemed to wilt beneath the sunlight. Seto lounged on the stairs of the quarterdeck and scraped his sword across the whetstone, enjoying the satisfying metal sound of his work. Beneath him, first mate Wheeler had dropped down onto the steps and swept his fingers through his sweat soaked mop of hair. It distracted Seto momentarily, but he kept his hand steady. Their quartermaster Miss Gardner had stopped her work as well to lean against one of the barrels that Tristan had been trying to move, forcing him to slump against the ocean stained wood. Their surgeon Bakura had taken to lounging on the floor as Duke braided his hair. If the captain minded such a lazy show, he didn’t say anything at all from where he stood at the wheel of the ship. Seto’s eyes drew up to Captain Atem, whose eyes were on the distant horizon. Even in the shining sun, without moonlight or the red of a burning ship reflecting in his eyes, he still managed to live up to the name the Shadow King.

And then, Seto’s cold and calculated tongue said without much thought, “Why does he get a nickname?”

The gathered paused in consideration. Tea shrugged her shoulders and said, “He’s a pirate captain. It comes with the territory.”

“Shadow King’s a little dramatic,” Seto said with a furrowed brow.

Joey huffed out a laugh and dropped his head back to smile up at him. “Like you don’t know anything about that.”

“I only mean,” he said, sliding the stone across the blade, “it seems a little silly for him to be the only one. You’re all pirates as well.”

“You are too,” Duke reminded him. They finished the first braid and twined a red ribbon to cap it with a bow. “I’ve already got everyone calling me Duke Devlin. Hard to come up with a better name than that.”

“It does roll off the tongue,” Ryou said. “I’ve heard several crew members refer to me as the Ghost.”

“I started that,” Joey admitted, raising a hand. “It’s only because you were so quiet when we first took you on.”

“That and you look like a ghost,” Tristan said.

“Fair,” murmured Ryou.

"Joey was Iron Hands on our last crew," Tristan said.

“Only because I beat a man to death with my bare hands one time,” he said. “I don’t make a habit of it.”

“Mad Eyes Wheeler is a better name for him,” Tea said, and she flexed her own biceps in a strong man pose. “I think Tristan would be the Hammer. You hit hard and strong and also you use hammers.”

“I like that,” he said. “Duke’s Duke, obviously, we’ve got Mad Eyes and the Ghost–”

“Hey,” Joey protested, and Tristan ignored him.

“And the lord would be something like Two Blades Kaiba,” he finished.

Seto’s stone slid off the blade. “Why is that the best you can come up with?”

“No, it makes sense,” Joey said. “You carry two swords.”

“Everyone here has a sword,” Seto said.

“And you’ve got two of them,” Tea said. “The logic stands.”

Seto ground his teeth together. “It’s not the most dynamic name.”

“Pirates don’t tend to be very creative,” Ryou lamented. “You’ll note the characters of Blackbeard and Calico Jack are best known for having a black beard, and wearing calico clothes.”

“Mai!” Tea called as the lady herself crossed the deck. “Do you have a pirate name?”

She peered up at them, purple lips pursed, and then she tossed her blond hair over her shoulder as she struck a pose. “They call me Lady Valentine.”

“See,” Duke said. “She gets it. Pick a name that everyone wants to say.”

“Shouldn’t you scags be working?” she called and started up the steps. “Is this the example you set for this crew?”

“We’ve done most of the work,” Joey said with a wave of his hand. “We’re coming up with a pirate name for the lord.”

“Oh, is that all.” Mai stood in front of them, pinching her chin with her thumb, and her eyes narrowed in on Seto. “Have you tried Two Blades?”

“Why does everyone say that?” Seto groaned. He sliced his sword forward, eying down the blade. “It should be something good. Like the Blue Devil.”

Joey snorted out a laugh. “Because you wear a lot of blue?”

“It’s a gentleman’s color,” Mai said. “What about Mad Eyes? He’s got a crazed look half the time.”

“Joey called it,” Tea said.

He cut her a glare. “I didn’t call it.”

“You could be Black Dragon,” Ryou piped up. “Because of the tattoo.”

“Why does he get to be a dragon?” Seto asked, letting his blade drop.

Joey laid back onto the stairs. “You said you didn’t want a tattoo.”

“I think these names have to come naturally,” Tristan said. “You can’t force everyone to start calling you the Blue Devil.”

“Depends how stabby you’re feeling,” Mai said. “But then you just get a name like Stabs.”

“That’s a good name for Duke,” Tea said with a finger snap.

“Then how does he,” Seto said, gesturing vaguely above him, “end up with a name like ‘the Shadow King’?”

Mai twirled her finger in a turn around motion, and when Seto turned his head he jolted back. The captain sat just behind him, crouched forward on the quarterdeck steps, kohl covered eyes staring straight at him. Strands of coiled hair were kept back out to show off his wild eyes and shark’s grin.

“Because I am sneaky,” he said, warm North African accent burning the edges of his words, “and I am quick, and I make people kneel.”

Seto didn’t flinch his gaze from his, and Atem stared him down a heartbeat longer before rocking back onto the seat and laughing loudly. Seto considered he’d spent too much time in this crew, getting to know them as people, that sometimes he forgot about the shadows that attacked his ship and the fire that lit behind them.

“Names come with time,” the captain promised and offered a hearty pat to Seto’s back. “We’ll all hear of the legend of the Blue Devil someday. Now, Miss Gardner.”

She stood straight as he snapped his fingers, and cleared her throat before bellowing out, “What are you doing lazing around here? Get to work, scags!”

They scrambled up to their feet as she thumped the barrel, and Mai made a hard turn back to her work. Joey grabbed Seto’s wrist and pulled him onto the deck, head back laughing as he dragged him off to their stations. Tea’s thumping sent a few more people scattering.

“Alright, Blue Devil,” Joey said. “Back to work it is.”

“I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Seto groaned. “All those names are so stupid.”

“I think it might be how you sell it,” he said. He reached up to pinch his cheek, and Seto caught his hand before he could. He brought his hand up, kissing the bruised knuckle, before releasing him.

“Keep the bloodshed to a minimum,” he said and with a smirk added, “Mad Eye.”

Joey yanked his hand away with an eye roll despite the red warming his cheeks. It was satisfying, at least, that he had no response as he stalked off to his own duties. Perhaps those silly names did serve a purpose after all. He’d have to see what else he could come up with, in his own time.

[fanaticsnail]

Snail important question;

Of any line-up of characters of your choice-

Who do you think is attracted to competency,

Who is attracted to stupidity,

Who can go either way,

And who is attracted to both at the same time (imagine;

Reader: sorry I'm late I had to fight off two different ships

Them: is that how you got that bruise on your face?

Reader: oh... Actually, I wasn't looking and pulled a push door off its' hinges into my face

Them, kicking off their pants: god you're so fucking stupid, sit on my face

)

Also, I feel like there are different versions of competency and stupidity. Street smarts vs social obliviousness. Book smarts vs functionally illiterate. Strategic/battle smarts vs what-do-you-mean-flashing-the-enemy-isn't-a-valid-distraction?

(Zoro is completely math smart and dumb in every other way)

I could imagine Luffy would be attracted to hyper specific competency. If you're really into a specific thing and good at it and it's your dream he would absolutely love it even if it sounds like you're speaking gibberish to him. He wouldn't even think of it as weird - I mean, no more weird than any other dream he doesn't personally understand - he's certainly not the type to judge based on societal norms. You could talk his ear off about the reproductive habits of different animals and he wouldn't get why everyone else doesn't like to hear it when they're eating but hey more food for him.

Snail. Your asks always know how to get the better of me. Have a series of little drabbles, dear.

Competency, Stupidity, Duality

Masterlist here

Word Count: 410+, 510+, 580+

Synopsis: They can't help what attracted them to you. No matter what you did, they simply couldn't get enough of you. Their emotions finally catch up with them, and they confess their adoration for you.

Themes: variety x gn!reader, feelings, injury, mentions of battles, finally giving in, all different 'reader' inserts, confessions of love, kid x reader, zoro x reader, killer x reader, angst, fluff, sweetness.

Notes: I wasn't expecting to write this today, but I've been thinking about the big boys lately and I needed to give them some love. Something about trios lately.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @nerium-lil @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training

Competency: Eustass Kid

When Eustass Kid noticed how quick and sharp you were to react in life or death circumstances, he was immediately smitten with you. Being a Straw-Hat, your ambitions and dreams were fostered by your playful captain as you sailed aboard the Thousand Sunny. Your ability to interact flawlessly by balancing the combined efforts of the three crews had him intrigued by your charisma. 

Fighting by your side was something he didn’t expect to affect him so much. The way you researched the strengths and weaknesses of all three crews sailing and fighting together was admirable. Asserting yourself by asking Law to push and pull you closer to the fight with the Ope-Ope no Mi ability, while fighting side-by-side with Massacre Soldier Killer in close quarters, had him left wordless.

After the battle finishes, he watched as you hastily aided your crew of their injuries while disregarding your own; putting others first while adding pressure to your hand-gash, hovering it over your head to slow the bleeding. He couldn’t get enough of you. 

He needed you to know how he felt about you, but being in the presence of Luffy and Law always seemed to bring out the more juvenile side of attitude. His simple attraction and infatuation with you had to be revealed to you in due time, but he couldn’t risk sounding like an idiot in front of you. He would have to simply wait until you were alone and unoccupied before he made his move to take care of you after taking care of others. 

Slowly approaching you as you sat down against the tangerine grove aboard the Thousand Sunny, his shadow shrouded your form and prompted you to gaze up into his scarred, sheepish face. Your smile caused his heart to beat harder and his head to swirl with a variety of "what-ifs". Gulping back his insecurities, he knelt down in front of you.

“Let me take care of that for you,” he offered with a soft smirk, “You’ve done so much for others, and I think your hand needs some seeing to.” 

“If you say so, Captain Kid,” you shrug, offering your injured hand delicately to him and listening to his every instruction as he treats you, “I wasn’t aware you had any medical training.” He straps your hand in a bandage, placing down the final ties before holding your injured hand in his.

“I don’t,” he shrugged with a smile atop his painted lips, “But I’ve lost an arm before, and I don’t want to see that happen to you.” 

“You’re-...” he stuttered over his words, gazing at your hand before softly drifting his tired eyes up, “...-You amaze me. Truly, amaze me.” You place your other hand on his, never once removing your eyes from his face as he offers you such kindness. 

“Thank you, sir,” you nod to him with a soft smile, “You amaze me, too.”

Stupidity: Roronoa Zoro

“Why would you do that?” Zoro roared at you, hovering his body over yours and caging your face-down body within a shield of his own. The gashes on your back were deep, your body weeping out the red essence and staining your clothes with it.

“C-Couldn’t risk yours,” you stuttered out with a soft smile, “H’was gonna g-get yours. Didn’t want you to wear the shame.” His eyes widened, filling with a steam of glossy tears that threatened to spill over the moment you stuttered out your confession. “That’s what you said, wasn’t it? Mark on the back is a swordsman’s greatest shame?” 

Drip. 

Drip.

Drip.

One after one, soft tears spilt down his cheeks and mixed with the fluids pooling at your back. He leaned down towards you, the heat of battle dying down with the swift, flaming kick of the blonde cook and giggling chuckles of your captain, Luffy. 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he sniffed his sobs back as he leaned down to cage you, “Can’t you see? None of that fucking matters without you here.” He softly, tenderly moved you from your position on the floor to not disturb your wounds. He sat you up, cradling you against his broad chest and openly sobbed for you. 

“When you get better,” he growled into your shoulder, “I will repay you for this. I will pay my debt to you.” His sobs got more desperate, not halting in the slightest when Trafalgar D Water-Law approached the two of you in your embrace. 

“Let me get ‘em to the infirmary,” Law offered, gesturing for Bepo to ready the aid kit, “I’ll treat the wounds there-.” 

“-I won’t leave them,” Zoro barked over your shoulder, your soft smile tugging at your cheeks in your hazy daze. “Let me go with you, Traffy. I won’t say a damn word to distract you, on my honor.” Law nods, raising his hand and spreading his fingers and offers the two words to switch positions within the infirmary: “Room, Shambles.” 

As you drifted in and out of consciousness, you laughed each time Zoro chastised you for your stupidity. Echos of: “There were so many other things you could’ve done instead,” and “You stumbled into that blade like a moron and took that hit for me, idiot.” You giggled through the pain, barely feeling it as Law worked to stitch you together again. 

Upon regaining consciousness, you looked to your moss-haired crewmate and offered out your hand to his bicep. His head was bowed, arms crossed over his chest, and was assumed to be napping by your bedside. Feeling your touch, he was roused from his sleep and immediately leaned forward to bring his face beside yours. 

“You’re a fucking moron,” he huffed, smiling in a melancholy grin. You laughed at his insult, squeezing his muscle before retracting your hand. As you nearly drew it away to your side, he caught your hand and brought your palm up to his lips. 

“My fucking moron,” he confirmed, placing a soft kiss to your palm before using it to cup his face. “I love you.”

Duality: Massacre Soldier Killer

Staring up into your face while remaining silent, resting his masked face on the heel of his palm, he listened to your recount of a very specific childhood injury that left you with an interesting scar on your thigh. Killer’s eyes never left your face, his cheeks beginning to glow warm and vibrant beneath the shroud of his mask.

“So, let me get this straight,” Captain Eustass Kid held his hand in front of his face and gave it a gentle wave to halt your words, “That sick-looking scar wasn’t from any time you served with Luffy, but because you set off a fucking harpoon and speared yourself in the leg with it?” 

Killer felt himself swoon at the melody your laugh thrust into the atmosphere. He was ever thankful his blue and white mask disguised how much he was smiling beneath the shroud. 

“Yep,” you popped the ‘P’ afterwards, nodding in confirmation as you sat beside Usopp and drew your tankard up to your lips, “But I learnt from it, and it hasn’t happened since.” Killer sighed, his voice almost coming out in a soft moan to reveal his growing infatuation for you. Kid barked out a harsh gaggle of laughter, clapping you on the shoulder with his right hand and gestured for you to reveal it to them.

“Let me see it again, go on,” he chuckled, removing his hand and sitting back on his seat, “Use Killer’s thigh as a prop so we can see it properly. You don’t mind do you, big guy?” Killer absentmindedly and slowly shook his head, tapping his thigh twice with his hand for you to reveal your injury to the captain of the Victoria Punk, himself and your crewmate beside you. 

“Alright,” you shrugged, standing beside Usopp and Killer and gently placed your foot atop Killer’s thigh and began hiking up your shorts to your hip, “Feast your eyes, Captain.” Sure enough, an interesting looking scar was revealed on your inner thigh, clear as day and sure as the sea is salty. 

“Oh, fucking hells!” Kid gave you a hearty laugh, “You seeing this, big guy?” Kid turned his attention to his first mate, his smile only growing as he noticed the angle of Killer’s mask never left your face. Surprise was immediately thrust into Kid’s eyes, noticing the unwavering resolve in Killer’s posture. 

You turned your attention down to the silent and broody first-mate, your face puzzled and eyes searching his mask for any further thought or action. He slowly drew his hands up to clasp around your ankle and calf, holding it firmly as he leaned forward. 

“You’re perfect,” he offered in a breathy whisper, stroking your leg and gazing lovingly into your face, “Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.” 

Your face flushed with a warmth at his words, eyes widening and looking down at his large hands as they held you so tenderly and delicately within his grasp. Smiling, you leaned forwards and placed your hand over his scarred left forearm with mischief in your eyes, asking him a simple question with a suggestive tone. 

“Like what you see then, big guy?” At your question, Usopp nearly choked on his drink. You had never been this bold before, and this came as a shock to your crew’s skilled sniper. He covered his choking with a soft cough, turning away with a downturned smile and stifling his growing laugh. 

“So much,” Killer confirmed, gently caressing your calf and looking up at you through half-hooded blonde lashes beneath his mask, “So, so much.”

[velvateen]

snow and mistletoe - zoro x reader fluff!

gn reader, no pronouns!!

literally just a fluffy little thing i wrote before work bc i kept reading mistletoe prompts and i had to hop tf on that train. enjoy!!!

no warnings for this one, happy holidays everyone!!

You groaned as you rolled out of bed, the cool winter air hitting your feet as they landed on the wooden floor of your bedroom. another sleepless starless night, the gentle rock of the ship failing to lull you back to sleep. you ran a careless hand over your face as you opened the door and made the short yet cold trek to the ships kitchen.

You’d gotten into the habit of trying to move around on nights when you couldn’t sleep, and the kitchen was ripe with peace and warmth. so you pulled the door open and promptly shut it to prevent any more cold air from seeping into the room.

The kitchen was decorated in holiday lights, a small Christmas tree settled in the corner with a few small gifts laying under it. You smiled as you walked to set a kettle to boil, the notion of hot chocolate sounding especially appealing considering the mood.

You stirred the coco mixture into the warm milk and poured it into a mug. Digging in the fridge for the can of whipped cream, you almost missed the sound of the kitchen door opening and being pushed shut. It must’ve started snowing since you’d entered the kitchen, because Zoro nearly didn’t notice you either , too distracted by ruffling the snowflakes out of his hair.

His footsteps alerted you to his presence as he sat down heavily at the table. You turned around, having finally found the whipped cream.

“Oh, hey. Didn’t know you were still up,” you said.

He let out a small huff, stretching his neck so slightly.

“Just got done training. Didn’t know anyone else was awake.” You hummed, turning to the cupboard to grab another mug.

“You’re lucky I measure with my heart.” You poured the remainder of the hot chocolate into the mug and pushed it his way. Zoro opened his closed eyes and hooked a finger around the handle.

“Why are you even up anyways? Got night watch or something?” he inquired.

“Nah, just couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d come here and soak up some Christmas cheer while I still can.” You picked up your mug, noting the way the steam felt on your cold nose. You took a sip, unaware of the careful eyes watching as your tongue peeked out between your lips to wipe away any remaining whipped cream.

“I don’t think I’ll stick around though, I can already feel this putting me back to sleep,” you spoke through a yawn, heading towards the door.

“I like the way you think,” Zoro spoke, and you two made your way to the door.

He pushed it open, and you started to walk through before something above you caught your eye.

“Oh,” you pointed upwards. Zoro followed your gaze.

“Oh, oh yeah.”

You’d forgotten all about that mistletoe that Sanji had no doubt hung in the doorway.

“Well, no one’s here to enforce it and it’s just a stupid tradition anyways so who says we really have t—“ Before you could finish your sentiment Zoro had promptly cut you off.

The cold from the snowy weather outside was hardly a match for the warmth that bubbled up from your chest as Zoro gave you the briefest of kisses, just long enough to feel the heat of his chapped lips and the touch of his nose against your cheek.

“Merry Christmas,” he mumbled as he walked towards his room, still shakily holding the mug of hot chocolate.

Maybe that was why the kiss was so sweet.

*.• merry christmas and happy holidays everyone i’m so sorry ive been actually MIA that’s my b lol 😖 hope you enjoyed this !!!!! meow meow

[supercorpkid]

I was going to send this as an ask too bc tumblr screwed me and put my reblog as a draft but then I saw the new pics of Katie McGrath, got distracted and forgot about it until now lol

Anyways

So, ok, I need to ask (and you can say no, no problem at all) but ever since I read The Other Kryptonian I can’t stop thinking about how I just can’t fucking choose between Kara and Lena!!! You wrote it so fucking well that I can’t choose one and see the other sad. So, could you do an alternative ending where reader end up with both?

I even have this headcanon (I have a bunch of them for this story tbh) where she says she now has two hearts (bc of the device Lena made for her) and they belong to two people, so she can’t choose.

I actually have the whole thing in my mind but idk if you’d like to read it all

But as an added bonus: I also see Lena and Kara falling in love for each other and reader kinda seeing this happen but not wanting to interfere and let them do it in their own pace

The Other Kryptonian - alternative ending.

Ending with both Kara and Lena :)

Word Count: 3215.

Notes: damn it was fun revisiting this story. Hope you enjoy this!

part 1, part 2, part 3

They are all so nice. All of their friends are nice and genuinely good. It makes your guilt sit heavier on your stomach because they are heroes saving the world from people like you. Your heart is also heavy, you don’t think you can tell them many of the awful things you’ve done.

After a while talking with all of them, you spot Lena coming out of the elevator. You don’t know exactly what your face says, but Lena can read it perfectly when she comes closer and holds your free hand -the one Kara isn’t still holding.

“I’m glad you all got a chance to meet Y/N, but I think it’s time for her to rest.” Lena blinks at you, etched with support. You nod, suddenly feeling that you should rest for sure.

“You know, I was about to say that.” Alex adds, her hand makes way to your shoulder, and she squeezes lightly. “Go rest, we’ll be here when you wake up.”

Kara looks at you, query in her eyes. “You ok? I can fly you home so you can rest better.”

“Oh.”

Home.

That’s a word you haven’t said in a while. Where would that be? The room Lex used to keep you in? Your old house in Midvale? The ship? Krypton?

“I think Kara meant her home.” Lena explains when she sees how confused you are. “But maybe you should come with me.”

It’s almost unnoticeable, but at that Kara holds your hand a little bit tighter. And Lena’s heart beats a little bit faster.

“No. I mean, what if Lex comes back for her? I have to protect her.”

“Well, she can protect herself, she is also Kryptonian. Besides, I should be around to see if the second heart is working properly.”

Alex, hearing that, takes one little step backwards, aware of something you are not. Everyone else that was watching the interaction, looked somewhere else and engaged in meaningless conversations. You look down on your hands, intertwined with both women, feeling incapable of letting go of any of them.

“If the heart stops working, I’ll fly her back here in a blink of an eye.”

“Sure, and if Lex comes back for her I’ll use the watch and you’ll be there in a blink as well, won’t you?” Lena pulls your hand slowly. “Besides, I have extra space. Your apartment would be kind of cramped. She needs to actually rest; she won’t be able to do that on your couch.”

“My couch is very comfortable.” Kara speaks out of greeted teeth. “And she would obviously sleep in the bed with me. We’ve done that many times before, right Y/N?”

You’re not sure it’s a real question when Kara gives Lena a wry smile. Everyone else in the room is clearly trying to hide their discomfort at the situation, but all breathes are stuck in their lungs after the question, and you can feel the tension wrapping around your throat as your breath also gets stuck in your lungs.

“Oh.” And all of sudden all eyes are on you. “Maybe I should stay on the med bay?” You plead at Alex with your eyes, and she agrees promptly.

“Yes! I have yet to clear her permanently.” Alex comes back closer, hands on your shoulders. “Well, come on. A little bit more of the yellow sunlight won’t hurt.”

Both let go of your hand, unable to argue with that logic. Alex helps you back into the med bay, turning the yellow lights back on.

“You know,” She starts, giving you another pillow so you can get more comfortable. If only she knew this is the most comfortable you’ve been in years. “It’s a hard choice, but one you’ll have to make.” Alex taps on your hand lightly. “I can’t hide you out here forever.”

You let out a smile at that, and she smiles back at you.

“Hey,” You call her a moment before she leaves the room. “Thank you. Lena told me you’ve helped, and I know you did the surgery too. I know I’m a wanted criminal…” You choke on your words after that. It’s true, but still not easy to admit it out loud.

Alex assures you. “It was all Lex. I can tell the difference.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t really like me before that either.” You force a smile out.

“Water under the bridge.”

And just like that, all of those times you thought about Alex and why she hated you faded away.

It’s funny, having dreams. You were never once for having different dreams every night. But this time there was no falling from the sky. No yelling for you to run and protect yourself. No begging for your safety whatsoever.

It was only blue and green. Blue sky. Green grass. Blue ocean. Green trees. Blue eyes. Green eyes. Love and love.

It’s a hard choice, but one you’ll have to make.

It's a decision between secrets, deep understanding, familiar touches, hearts that play the same symphony, and love. It’s about going back to what is known. To what was supposed to happen all along. It’s choosing blue.

It’s a decision between blunt honesty, desperate trust, touch-starved skins, strong holds on hearts, and love. It’s about taking the leap. It’s about closing the distance your body has been protesting all along. It’s choosing green.

A hard choice, indeed.

--------------- different ending starts here ---------------

You wake up to the warmth of the artificial sun on your skin. You haven't felt this good in—well, maybe ever. Now, you're free to use your powers as you wish, not at the command of others. And best of all, beside you are the two women you’ve loved most in your life.

"Baby," you hear, the voice as familiar as your own heartbeat. You open your eyes, hardly daring to believe they aren’t playing tricks on you. But there she is—Kara Danvers, standing in front of you with a hot plate of waffles, just like she used to when you were both teenagers. And right beside her is Lena Luthor, her eyes bright as she hands you a steaming mug of coffee. You think this might be the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen.

"Can we talk to you for a little bit?" Lena asks gently.

You nod, a bit wary of revisiting the uncomfortable situation from last night. Kara places the plate on the bed, and you start eating before either of them can say another word. It’s been ten long years since you last had waffles, and you’d forgotten just how good they taste. Your mouth is full when Lena begins again.

"We talked about what happened last night." Lena pulls a chair over and sits down in front of you. Kara turns off the sunlight simulator, then joins her, sitting down in front of you.

"We don’t want that to ever happen again," Kara says, reaching for your hand. "We made you uncomfortable, and everyone around us." She takes a deep breath, clearly holding back tears. "It’s obvious that we both have feelings for you. You were the only person I’ve ever loved like this. I tried to have other relationships, but no one understands me like you. No one ever will."

"I know," you whisper, biting your lip to keep the tears at bay. "I feel the same."

"And I would give anything to have you by my side again. It would be—Rao, baby, it would be everything. We’d fly around the world, helping people like we always dreamed. And you’d finally get to explore Earth’s history. There are so many things I want you to see."

You squeeze her hand tighter. "Why are you saying this like it can’t happen?"

"It could. But I'm not going to make you choose me. I want you to be happy, and if happy is Lena, then — then I want that for you."

"And I want the same." Lena says reaching for your free hand. "I want you to have it all. You’re here, and you’re safe. And I finally have you next to me and darling, I’ll do everything I can to give back all that Lex stole from you." Lena smiles at you and you can no longer hold the tears back. "If you want to be with Kara, I'll support you no matter how I feel. I’m not going to hold you back from happiness"

"I—" There's a tennis size ball on your throat and you can't even swallow. "I can't decide. I love both of you. And I — I need the two of you equally. I've gone so long alone. I don't want that anymore."

Kara's arms are the first you feel around you, but Lena is quick to hold you too. 

"You are never going to be alone again, darling. We are all here for you."

The embrace feels like home, a place you never thought you'd find again. The warmth of Lena's arms, the steady comfort of Kara's presence—these are the things you've missed for so long. The weight of years of loneliness and fear melts away in their hold.

When you finally pull back, you see the tears in their eyes mirror your own. Kara's smile is soft, and Lena’s touch on your cheek is gentle, grounding you in this moment.

“I don’t know how this will work, or if it will at all.” you admit, voice trembling. “But I don’t want to lose either of you. I can’t.”

Kara nods, squeezing your hand. “We’ll figure it out together," she says, extending her hand to Lena. In a moment, they’re holding hands too. "All of us.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to hope. Maybe this can work. Maybe you don’t have to choose. Maybe love doesn’t have to be divided like it has been all your life. Maybe the three of you can find a way to share it.

The tension that once filled the room dissipates, replaced by a sense of peace. You take a deep breath, feeling lighter than you have in years.

Lena looks at you, her eyes full of warmth. “You don’t have to rush anything, darling. We have time now. We'll figure out how to make this work for the three of us.”

Kara nods in agreement. “Yeah, there’s no need to decide everything right now. Let’s just take it one step at a time.”

You smile at both of them, feeling a sense of relief. “I’d like that.”

Kara's eyes smile, as well as the rest of her face, and she comes closer to kiss your forehead. You close your eyes to it, can't help but to. It's been years since your touch-starved skin has received any love, any proof that you are deserving of more than suffering. You can’t help the way your heart swirls with joy at this small gesture.

It's almost too long to be considered innocent. And before you even open your eyes, you feel another pair of lips, and you can't believe how well you know the difference, kissing your temple.

"I was never not thinking about you." Lena whispers in your ear, and a smile tugs at your lips, unbidden but welcome.

"I've missed you everyday since the last time I saw you." Kara whispers in your other ear, and you feel another kiss being planted on your cheek. 

And another on the other cheek. And another on the tip of your nose. Eye. Chin. Every inch of your face is showered with love and devotion, and your heart, Rao! Your heart has been beating so fast and hard, you're scared of failing you.

"We'd do anything for you." You're not sure who said that, or at least who started the sentence, but you know that by the end of it, both voices had mingled and it was your favorite sound. 

You slowly open your eyes, when you don't feel any kisses on your face for a few seconds. Kara and Lena are still so close, you can feel that you are all sharing the same breath. Eyes so close, blue and green are about to become one. Or even better, yours.

"Please," You reach for their faces, each palm on one of their cheeks. "Please," You beg again. You beg with your mouth, and with your eyes. Your love begs in silence and preaches in scream.

"Anything you want." 

Lena's lips touch yours for a brief second before they are replaced by Kara's and oh Rao, if only you knew all along this would be your future. If only you knew it was not a choice, but a balance. Not division, but unity. If only you knew you'd get what you've been searching for all your life.

"Lena," You blink at her and you can read her eyes perfectly as if you never once stopped seeing them, "I — I love you. It's you and all the things you do. You're all that I would think about."

She blinks too, starry-eyed and understanding. Face etched with love and desire. So, before you even ask her permission for it, she leans in, her lips meeting yours, her breath mingling with yours. This—this feels sacred, like something holy. And who else would hold you if not her?

It's perfect, incredible, but there is an itch on your throat, there's something more to be said. There's someone else to be touched and felt and loved. And Lena knows it too, for when she separates your lips, she gives you a nod and space so you can tell Kara what you need.

"Kara," You hold her face close to yours so you can whisper in her mouth, "Shovuhodh khuhp w rraop ehm tiv ewuhshehd im tiv aorghuhs uldifirstunia chao ukep."

Kara's eyes are full of tears because she remembers your mom teaching both of you a few sentences in Kryptonian and this is one you'd always say while looking deep inside Kara's eyes. I love you to the end of the ever-expanding universe and back.

And as an answer, she holds your face closer and kisses you like she would all those years ago. Hearts synchronizing playing the known symphony. Souls bleeding so. And who's gonna know you if not her?

This happens once every few lifetimes. You're sure. Who else can tell that they found love in two beautiful souls? In two people who care about you so deeply, they're willing to share and come together and overflow. 

When you look at their faces again, you're sure. The three of you will be able to make this work. The certainty is bone-deep within you.

But your life has never been just about good things. In fact, it rarely was. Even as your heart swells with love, threatening to burst from your chest, a voice slices through the warmth, pulling you back to a darker reality. And in a heartbeat, you find yourself thrust to the opposite end of the emotional spectrum.

“You all have something that belongs to me,” Lex’s voice cuts through the air, icy and cruel. Panic surges through your body, locking the breath in your lungs as your eyes widen in fear.

“Stay here,” Kara instructs, rising to her feet immediately. But Lena senses the shift in the atmosphere and follows her instinct, standing up as well. You’re left behind in the med bay, though you can see and hear everything unfold with alarming clarity.

“I’m sorry, sis," Lex sneers. "But I won’t share my pet with you. I thought I made that perfectly clear. Now hand it back, or suffer the consequences.”

A kryptonite gun gleams menacingly in his hand, and it’s pointed straight at Kara’s head. No. No. You will not let this happen. Lex will not hurt anyone else because of you, nor will he use you as a weapon against the people you love. Without a second thought, you speed into the room, positioning yourself in front of Kara and Lena, shielding them from the man who’s tormented you for so long.

“Lex,” you say, your voice steady despite the storm raging within.

“Oh, there she is. Come on, alien," he taunts, brandishing a remote control in front of you. But you hold your ground, eyes fixed on his face.

“You can’t hurt me," you declare with quiet resolve.

Lex scoffs, then presses the button meant to flood your body with kryptonite. But nothing happens. His face contorts in disbelief, fury simmering beneath the surface. He doesn't wear his frustration for long, though, as he snarls through clenched teeth, “I can always hurt you.”

You glance back at Kara and Lena, and in that moment, you know his threat is hollow. No matter what Lex does, no matter how much kryptonite he throws at you or how far his malice reaches, these two women would lay down their lives for you—just as you would for them.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” you warn, gesturing to those standing around you. “You’ve managed to piss off two Kryptonians, one Martian, one Coluan, one human-Naltorian, one badass agent, and your genius sister. Do you really think that a kryptonite gun will save you now that you’ve run out of people to fight your battles for you?”

It’s not the victory you’ve fantasized about for years, nor the vengeance you once craved. It doesn’t come close to the justice he deserves for all the horrors he’s unleashed. But to watch Lex Luthor stand down, to see the realization dawn on him that he no longer holds any power over you feels more liberating than anything you could have imagined.

“Don’t come near us again,” you say, your voice filled with the steel of conviction. “You know the terrible things I’ve done for you, and what I’m capable of doing to you now.” It’s an empty threat, but he doesn’t know that.

“Aliens,” he spits, disgusted, before opening a portal and vanishing from the Tower.

Lena's house is huge, but lacks character. Kara is happy to change that by moving things from her flat. Slowly, the space begins to fill with her colorful additions—bright pillows, whimsical lamps, and blue throw blankets that add a pop of warmth to the cool, neutral tones.

Lena’s massive bed, once so wide and cold, feels smaller now. Cozier. Especially with you sandwiched between the two of them, pillows surrounding you like a fortress.

Routine comes easily. What started as one-on-one moments with each of them gradually blossoms into a shared rhythm, a natural flow in which all three of you find comfort, passion, and peace in each other’s arms. Their love for you is steadfast, unwavering, and it only deepens with time. Just as your love for them grows stronger, you also witness the quiet affection they nurture for each other getting less hinted and more obvious. You’re grateful that you get to see it unfold, to experience it up close.

It turns out, you do have a home. It may have taken you long to figure it out, but now you know. Home, for you, is not a place—it’s the people who complete you. Kara is your Krypton—your origin, your understanding, your soulmate. Lena is your Earth—your deep-rooted connection, your forged and enduring love.

And together, it feels just like home.

[swtorpadawan]

Tension

Author’s Notes: Sexual content ahead, albeit fairly SFW. Someone sent me a prompt.

The tension had been building for weeks.

Her victory over the Voidwolf at Corellia – and the ‘conclusion’ of her entanglements with Rogun the Butcher – had led to many new opportunities for Captain Bas’riish and her crew aboard the Kikalekki's Gambit.

Her decision to dissolve the smuggler’s fleet the ‘Wolf had assembled – after unleashing it on the Imperials at Corellia – had further built on that tension.

Exiled queens looking to fund planetary revolutions hated to leave money on the table.

In the absence of daily attempts on her life, it had also meant that Bas’riish was finding herself increasingly distracted concerning her first mate and chief engineer.

To that end, with a few moments to catch her breath while they were docked at Port Nowhere, she’d made her way back to the ship’s engine room… and immediately caught her breath at the sight of the protruding posterior of her quarry.

Bas’riish licked her lips as she gazed down at the woman who currently had her head and upper body stuck inside an engine vent. Those tight pants she was wearing accentuated everything.

“You overworked the fuel injectors again.” The rebuke from within the vent came before the lovely green Twi’lek captain could start breathing again. “I told you before that would gunk up the sub-light drives.”

Risha Drayen had no doubt heard her walking in across the floor panels. Hell, she probably could tell which member of their crew it was just from their footfalls.  

Clever bitch. Bas’riish smirked, continuing to gaze at the engineer’s butt.

“Sorry about that.” She finally spoke. “We had to rush to make the deadline on that shipment.”

She tilted her head.

“You need any help in there?”

A long sigh could be heard from the vent.

“Just hand me that power calibrator, alright?”

Her lips impishly smirked as Bas’riish picked up the tool, sliding it into the outstretched hand… and then taking that hand in hers.  

“My hand?” the irritated voice came again.

Bas felt her own voice grow softer.

“Got a minute?”

Another sigh escaped the vent.

“Sure. Hold on.”

Bas’riish finally released the hand as Risha ducked her head and backed out of the vent.

Damn. Bas’riish thought to herself as the engineer pulled off her goggles. Even sweaty and tired, her tank top clinging to her body (and showing off no small amount of cleavage), Risha was still incredibly beautiful.

And the tension in both women had been slowly building up for a long while.

“What’s up?” Risha asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bas’riish swallowed again. Shavit. She never felt nervous. Why was this situation any different from the countless others she’d been through?

Because she knew Risha. She cared about Risha. She trusted Risha.

And right now, she wanted Risha.  

“You’ve been working hard.” She began.

Risha rolled her eyes.

“Thanks for noticing.”

“…. And we’ve both been through a lot. These last few weeks.” She reached her hand up and gently caressed Risha’s cheek. ”You’ve put up with a lot from me.”

Risha’s eyes widened for half a second but then she closed her eyes and let out yet another sigh. Where the first two sighs communicated frustration, this one reflected something else entirely.

“So.” She leaned in. “I was wondering if I could buy you a drink.”

Risha’s eyes opened and she swallowed. The engineer slash exiled noble slash criminal mastermind usually acted so much wiser and more knowledgeable than her years would suggest, but right now, the look in her lovely brown eyes was younger and vulnerable than Bas had ever seen her.

“I could go for something.” She whispered, leaning in towards Bas’riish.

Their lips met. Soft. Inviting. Comforting.

Hands soon followed. And then much more.

Regardless of what else happened, the two women were going to work through their tension.

[basedkikuenjoyer]

(Egg)Shell Game

We've had breakfast, everyone's all rise and shiney, who's ready for a lil Chapter 1090? Hope you are because this was a great followup to 1089 finally getting us back to Egghead in pitch-perfect fashion which here means the perfect fashion for my lil pitch. This followup? Even better. We gloss over the night in the lab for the intrigue then Uno Reverse that shit by popping the bubble and showing it's a mixed bag. But this bit here is what has me downright giddy. Simply put...we could have chosen any detail to cut off in this fashion. Robin's right 100%, but put a pin in that. She specifically cuts off Luffy talking about who is all assembled up there. And if you want to write this off as coincidence...

We do it twice, this time more meta. I just think, given my whole oeuvre, this is the type of weird lil trickery I want to see. That said there's a lot to this chapter so lemme finish the thought on Robin. This is a fantastic demonstration of what I mean when I say personality wise Robin & Kiku are very different. Robin is the cool head here, but because she isn't exactly a specialist at this kind of thing she's missing the chance to execute Luffy's legitimately good mindset here better. Get what I'm saying? All New World we've had beats like this, I don't feel it's a stretch at all to say Luffy is thinking of the ability to solve this through theatrics at least partially because Bakura Town impressed him. We'll have to touch on this being another great "bookend" chapter for Luffy too. But let's get to the meaty middle first.

I like this beat. First, gotta note this is a banger Nami chapter. Love seeing mah girl prime just wail on York. Beat the shit out of her. I love her being a savage little shit. It's just like the best parts of having Caesar around, I adore how everytime he comes up Nami cannot let it go without wishing he'd die. Also, Future Kick! from a little while ago is a modern classic. Getting distracted by my sweet tangerine of Cocoyashi.

The log, this moment carries a lot of symbolic weight and it's something we've had a lot to say about. Think about it in contrast with Jaya, where we had a time limit before it would reset and we'd miss our real adventure. A lateral move. Not to say we haven't broken from the Log Pose plenty, just that while Elbaf is an attractive idea tempering it with something so foundational to the series really feels like it could be a way of saying we're not done here. Consider that plus how this chapter ends, but I'd also note there is that subtle but very Kiku-like story structure in casually making a plan now. Oh...y'all just got things relatively under control in 1089. You haven't even fully dealt with York.

Before that though, something else feels like it has begun in earnest.

Think about a shell game, this is the part where the dealer starts shuffling faster. Teasing you with Lilith's excitement, Bonney admiring Sanji, Stussy's intrigue with Lucci, Vivi on Morgans's ship. These are all things that we can see in fandom reactions, it's the type of thing that raises questions. None of it's really substantial, it feels like a scattershot more than anything. Quantity over quality. None of this is selling me on the idea we've had our fun and we're scooting off to Elbaf in a handful of chapters. But I don't feel we're taking a lot longer here either. It's very interesting the other shoe drops as we approach the ship with a small group:

Did Luffy pull a Kin'emon? As in, did his blunder incidentally bait Kizaru into the dome alone because he's misjudging the bluster? This can be very interesting from here. It's really just putting us right at where I mentioned as we pulled away. Kizaru leapt in alone, especially with the Sea Beasts in front...the Grand Fleet would tear through this Marine Fleet like paper. Gold star friend of the blog and lifetime Admiral's club member Fallensnowfan actually laid this out bizarrely well before reading this chapter. What's really cool is how Egghead has shaped up to be a sci-fi encore of Wano.

You're 100% right about that. We had a meandering time early meeting this famous faction and some other stuff on the side that relied on similar themes. Broke away for a big segment away from the main cast and had the nighttime battle up in a cordoned off space where no one really knows what went down. Playing with that idea explicitly. And now a smaller group is broken off to clash with an admiral. Bookends, just like the last Admiral bookended a big theme of Wano centered squarely on our girl.

[alexblakeisgay]

Between the Blues and the Pinks (Ch. 8)

Ship: Alex Blake/Emily Prentiss

Summary: The Baby Blues: The temporary feelings of sadness following having a baby. Also known as Postpartum Depression. The Baby Pinks: The mild mania experienced following having a baby. Also known as Postpartum Euphoria.

Warnings: Mental health issues, postpartum mood disorders.

Word Count: 1068

Emily awoke feeling well-rested for the first time in what felt like years. She yawned, stretched, rolling over to glance at the alarm clock...only to sit bolt upright in alarm. It was after six AM and Lindy hadn't cried... In the blink of an eye, Emily was out of bed and racing to the nursery, only to find it empty.

"Alex!" Emily shouted. "Alex, wake up! Lindy is..."

Before she could finish raising the alarm, Alex appeared in the doorway with Lindy strapped to her chest. "Lindy was perfectly content," she said, "Until you woke her up with your shouting."

For a few moments, Emily blinked in stunned silence. "You... You're..." she stammered. "Have you been to bed at all?" she asked, realizing that she was wearing the same clothes as the night before.

"I couldn't sleep," she said with a shrug, "I couldn't turn my brain off – I revised my entire syllabus for all my classes, then needed to do laundry. I put in a load, then I got a little distracted by reorganizing the laundry room and..."

Emily waved her hand to distract Alex from recounting an entire night's worth of activity. "So, you didn't get any sleep?" she asked. "Aren't you exhausted?"

Alex shook her head. "I've got too much to do," she insisted. "Why don't you go back to bed? You should get some rest after all the late nights you've been pulling lately..." And to punctuate the statement, she dropped a quick kiss to her lips.

Emily seemed like she would've like to protest, but before she could, Alex had ushered her back into the bedroom. "Are you sure you're alright?" she couldn't help but ask.

"I'm perfect," Alex insisted.

________

When Emily awoke again several hours later, the house was silent. She went in search of Alex and Lindy, finding both asleep on the couch, Lindy curled up on Alex's chest, cooing softly in her sleep. She smiled fondly at her two girls, snapped a few pictures, then covered them with a blanket.

She was in the middle of making lunch – and marvelling at how clean the house looked after Alex's all night cleaning binge – when she noticed something odd: several unopened canisters of formula in the trash.

With a frown, she bent down, plucking the canisters from the garbage to return them to the pantry. Mentally, she made a note to mention it to Alex later.

It was quickly forgotten, though, when later that day, Lindy started seizing.

Emily feared this would send Alex spiralling back into her depression, but instead, something else entirely happened. As they waited outside the NICU, Alex paced frantically, tearing her cuticles to shreds in a habit she'd picked up from Emily. She kept muttering something to herself, but Emily couldn't quite make out what it was.

Finally, when she could stand the manic pacing no longer, Emily quietly urged, "Al, you're wearing a groove in the floor..."

Alex looked up sharply as if only just remembering she was there. "Sorry, she mumbled. She took a seat beside Emily, but continued picking her nails, muttering quietly to herself.

Now that she was closer, though, Emily could now hear what she was saying under her breath... She reached over to clasp Alex's hand. "This isn't your fault," she insisted softly. "The doctors said..."

She shook her head urgently. "I know what they said, but..." She trailed off with a weary sigh. "I knew this would happen," she added mysteriously.

Emily would have liked to ask what she'd meant by that, but in the next moment, the doctor running the EEG on Lindy returned to the waiting room.

_________

"I'm so sorry, Lindy," Alex whispered on repeat, tenderly stroking a her thumb over the baby's knuckles, her tiny fingers wrapped around one of Alex's. "I let this happen to you... I'm so sorry."

Emily was making a coffee run – more for an excuse to stretch her legs than any actual desire for burnt cafeteria coffee – leaving Alex alone with the baby. Which was probably for the best because Alex really wasn't in the mood to explain to her wife why their daughter's seizure was her fault.

Lindy blinked sleepily up at her, her rosebud lips parting on a yawn.

"You're boring the poor thing," Emily teased, "Were you reading her your dissertation?" For a few moments, Alex's mouth hung open as she tried to decide whether it was meant as a joke. "I'm kidding," Emily assured her. She dropped a kiss to the top of her wife's head, passed her a cup of coffee. "I spoke to the doctor..."

"Oh?" Alex asked, trying not to sound too nervous.

She nodded. "They said there weren't any abnormalities on her EEG. They can't find anything wrong that caused it."

Alex did not seem encouraged by this news.

"They think they'll release her tomorrow," she added. When Alex still didn't comment, Emily prompted, "That's good news, right?"

She shrugged. "I just... Have they tested for everything?"

Emily frowned. "Like what?"

She shrugged a second time, suddenly seeming reticent to say.

"You didn't cause this," Emily reiterated, reading between the lines as to what she'd been so reluctant to say. "I hate that this happened as much as you do, but I promise you this is not your fault. I know you've had it in your head that she was going to have something wrong with her, but she is not a self-fulfilling prophecy, okay?" She tipped Alex's chin up so she was meeting her gaze. "You need to stop waiting for something bad to happen because you are making this way more stressful than it needs to be. It's really starting to piss me off..."

The last part came off harsher than she'd intended and she knew it the second it left her mouth because Alex's face hardened instantly. She didn't need to say anything, her expression alone was enough to let Emily know she was on extremely thin ice.

"I'm sorry," Emily immediately apologized, but it was too late. The words had already been spoken and there was no taking them back now.

[kanerallels]

Hilletti + Star Wars AU

This got. Very long and I shall not apologize for it. What I shall do is put it up on AO3, and put some of it under the cut!

In hindsight, it should have been obvious, really.

Even when they were running earlier, even with blaster fire zipping past them, Emma couldn’t help but think it. And now, in the quiet of the ship, as they slipped through hyperspace, she could see the pieces clicking together, the ones she should have seen earlier.

“I didn’t actually grow up with my family— we were separated when I was younger. I met them when I was seventeen.”

His charming grin, the charisma that softened even the hardest of scowls. Even the ones that Emma had thought would be impossible to charm. His impossibly quick reflexes, from the moment they first met. The way he seemed to guess things before they happened, which he’d just passed off as intuition. “I’m a bartender, remember?” he’d told her. “You’ve got to know people in my line of work.”

You’ve got to know them in mine, too, she thought. Look how that turned out.

But all the same, she’d never once looked at all these little inconsistencies twice. Never once really wondered why his sister had given her more than a few suspicious glances, or why his parents had dropped a conversation quickly when she’d come into the room. She’d figured it was just a thing about her job. There were more than a few people out there who didn’t trust the Empire, and who trusted the ISB even less.

But this… this had never entered her mind. Not until he’d come to her on her way to work, stopped her before she could go inside.

“They’re going to kill you, Em. They know you’ve been working that case, the one they told you to drop.”

“How?” she’d demanded. “How do you know that?”

The hesitation in his eyes had only been there for a moment before he said, “Because I’m involved with it. And because I’ve seen this before.”

“What does that mean?”

He hadn’t had a chance to respond before his eyes widened, and he was tackling her to the ground just in time to avoid a blaster bolt. The next second a squad of stormtroopers were converging on them, and he was pulling out a weapon Emma had seen only a very few times before, igniting it into a blade of yellow light.

Charlie Nicoletti was a Jedi.

They’d barely made it out alive. Every time Emma was sure they were out of ways to escape, Charlie had found something else, some way of distracting the troopers or slipping through a door she hadn’t even known existed. He was good at this, she’d noted through a haze of shock and pain from the blaster bolt that had grazed her arm. But then, he’d have to be. He’s hidden from the Empire this long, after all. He’s lied to everyone around him, including me for this long.

When they’d stumbled onto the ship— a tiny shuttle, tucked away in a bay out of sight. Emma still didn’t know or care where it had come from— Charlie had steered her to one of the seats and headed for the cockpit, telling her to wait. That he’d explain everything as soon as they were safe. As soon as she was safe, Emma remembered. 

And for whatever reason, she’d listened to him. So here she was, clutching the side of the bench she sat on hard enough that it left grooves in her palms, trying to distract herself from the burn of her blaster wound and the headache pounding a stake through her temple. And from the awful truth that relentlessly came back to mind, again and again.

Charlie is a Jedi.

The man she’d told that she loved only a day earlier, the man who’d taught her sign language and sleight of hand, who had caught her interest from the moment they met in that bar a few months earlier. He was a Jedi, a fugitive from the Empire. A traitor.

More importantly than that, he was a criminal. If he was involved in Emma’s case— a case about the death of an important Imperial official, badly covered up, and the Maguire crime family who she was pretty sure had killed him in the first place— then there was so, so much more Charlie had lied to her about.

Maybe after all this time, she should have expected it. But that didn’t prevent the pain, which ran through her worse than the wound on her arm, when she thought about it.

How was she ever supposed to trust him again?

“Emma?”

Her gaze moved up at the sound, and met his clear hazel eyes. She’d thought they were beautiful since the first time she’d really noticed them, how expressive and warm they were. Right now, they were dark with concern. “You’re hurt,” he said quietly, nodding at her arm.

It isn’t the arm that hurts, she wanted to say, it’s the fact you lied to me. It’s the fact that you’re a criminal and a traitor to everything I stand for, and you knew it this whole time. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. We should take care of that.”

Emma considered arguing with him, but decided to let that particular battle go. She sat and watched him dig through compartments until he located the first aid kit, then sat down facing her on one of the loose crates stacked here and there. “Can I?” he asked, nodding towards her arm.

There was a part of her that wanted to do it herself, to push him away. But the more practical side reminded her that this would be the perfect opportunity to question him, figure out exactly what she was dealing with. Which was definitely something she needed. So she nodded her consent.

Scooting a little closer, Charlie helped her roll up the sleeve, revealing the wound. It was an ugly burn, still oozing blood a little, and Emma saw Charlie’s mouth set in a hard line.

Pulling out a wad of gauze, he doused it in a clear liquid, saying, “I’m gonna clean it out— it’s gonna sting a little, though.”

“You’re a Jedi.”

She saw Charlie pause, just for a heartbeat, at her matter of fact words. Then he shrugged. “Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?” Emma felt a hysterical laugh push its way out of her mouth. “You pulled out a lightsaber, Charlie. How does that make you not exactly a Jedi?”

“Left when I was a kid,” he said steadily, dabbing at the wound. Emma winced a little at the sting as he continued, “I was found older than most kids. Gave it a shot for a couple years, but in the end I went back to my family. That was right before the Clone War started, so I was luckier than most.”

Emma hissed as the gauze grazed a particularly tender spot, and Charlie pulled back a little. “Sorry. Okay, bandage time.”

After spraying some bacta spray onto the burn, he started to wrap a bandage around her arm, his hands deft and gentle. As he pinned the end in place, he said, “That’s not all you want to ask me, though, is it?”

“No,” Emma said. “It’s not. You’re the one working for the Maguires, aren’t you?” Which could mean… that you used me. That I was a means to an end. 

A shadow of pain crossed Charlie’s face as he sat back, and Emma felt a flicker of disappointment at the space between them. There was a part of her that still wanted to hold him close, and she pushed that part down.

“I am— but it’s not what you think. None of it is what you think, Emma.” 

“You’re going to have to be a lot more convincing than that,” Emma told him flatly, folding her arms. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve— you’ve been watching me. For Daphne and the Maguires.”

“No,” Charlie said immediately. “No— I didn’t even know you were involved until recently. But I heard Daphne talking about how you were getting too close to the truth, and your bosses knew it. They couldn’t let that happen.”

“I— what?”

Charlie let out a long sigh, running his hand through his hair. “This is… complicated. All of it. Listen, I promise I’ll tell you the truth soon—”

“And I’m just supposed to take your word for that now?” Emma snapped, unable to hold herself back. Because she’d done it again— she’d tried to trust someone and it had blown up in her face. And it had hurt even worse this time, somehow.

The pain in Charlie’s eyes should have made her feel better. “I understand if you don’t,” he said. “But I’m telling you this to save you, Emma. Not to trap you or deceive you more. You’re an ISB agent— I could get myself, my family into a lot of trouble by telling you the truth. But I will. I owe you the truth.”

“It’s a little late for that now,” Emma said.

“Yeah,” Charlie said quietly. “I know.” A beat passed before he rose to his feet. “I gotta make some calls up in the cockpit— I’ll be back in a minute, and I’ll explain everything then. I promise. And… I’m sorry, Emma. I am.”

He left before she could respond, not that she knew what she would have said. Emma was a mess of confusion and pain and anger, all capped by the knowledge that Charlie had intervened to save her.

So what next?

She had no idea. Curling up on her seat, Emma pressed her eyes shut against tears, and tried to pretend she lived in a world where this hadn’t happened. Where Charlie’s voice in the next room didn’t send a pang of sorrow through her, and where she could still trust the man she loved.

For a few heartbeats, it almost worked.

[spiderluvbot]

🖇 LOVER ! roronoa zoro.

pairing — opla!zoro x fem!reader. summary — a stop at a celebrating island brings zoro a much needed chance for quality time. genre — pure fluff. notes — i'm writing again and i'm currently obsessing over black cat x golden retriever relationships. warnings — cursing, fluff that makes me jealous, moody zoro, no y/n mention, using the words laugh and kiss excessively because i don't know how to write. word count — 2082.

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

it was beyond zoro's comprehension why anyone would prefer to walk around an overcrowded street the entire day, especially when he could have spent it sleeping in the solitude of his room. still, he had begrudgingly followed after you once the cook implied how much fun the two of you could have without him.

they had found the small island after days of luffy complaining, with excuses of eating out to give sanji a break —in reality, he just wanted ice cream— he finally managed to convince nami. the ship docked in the early morning as the sun warmed their tan skin and the breeze ran through their bodies, carrying ussop's blabber about shops and people he had met the many times he allegedly came to the place.

the street market they had dragged him into was full of people, all smiling and conversing with one another about some dumb spring festival. zoro walked with crossed arms, his bored steps leaving him behind and allowing him to keep an eye on everyone and look out for any suspicious behavior. the locals that passed by eyed the swords warily and tried to keep as far away from him as possible in the crowded street, cowering away from his towering form.

he didn't pay too much attention to them once he discarded them as a threat, his eyes lingered on you running around with luffy and checking a fruit stall, paying the woman for a few strawberries and then turning around to pay again after finding your captain stuffing his mouth with grapes.

after making sure to give luffy some berries to pay for anything else he may eat you walked with quick and excited steps, making your way to him through a sea of people pretending they weren't looking at you as if you were insane for approaching him so freely.

"open up!"

if there was anything zoro was sure about, it was that the smile you were giving him could outshine the sun itself, and so no matter how fed up with this stupid island he was he couldn't help but smile back and accept the small fruit you were holding against his lips. suddenly it seemed far less appealing to be back at the going merry when instead he could look at you as you happily wandered around, eyes going from trinket to trinket while you tried to find the perfect gift for each of your friends.

"so, i got sanji some new kitchen knives and a tie, and i saw a vest for luffy but i don't want him to see me buying— you're not paying attention to me, are you?"

"i got distracted." his feet carried him closer, hands sliding to your waist and sending shivers down your spine.

no matter how against public displays of affection he was, his brain kept telling him to kiss you. ussop's smug face, on the other hand, told him to go up to him and smack the back of his head.

"come on lovebirds, i wanna get something for kaya and nami's killing me!"

nami's offended face brought yet another smile to your face and you left his arms, laughing as you pulled ussop towards an old lady's jewelry stall while assuring your irked friend about her exceptional taste in gifts.

soon enough luffy had left the fruit behind, leading the group to an old but cozy looking restaurant. the group stared at the small table in front of them, which seemed barely big enough for four people, and started to squeeze themselves in the leather booth. after a few seconds of consideration, zoro shoved ussop towards the middle and took his swords off placing them against the seat, turning to grab you and sit you next to him only to find you already between sanji and nami.

luffy eagerly pushed him into the seat and took the place he had cleared for you, kicking his swords to the floor in the process and practically jumping over him to grab the menu.

"what's with the grumpy face, zoro? look at all the things we can eat, this is great!"

he had to spend the next hour in a place that didn't sell alcohol, squished like a bug, being elbowed by luffy every five seconds, and watching you laugh at sanji's stupid comments about the food. this was not, in fact, great.

the locals were already pulling things away by the time they left, so they finally decided to bring him some peace and go back to the going merry. as the sun went down and the ship came into view, zoro let out a relieved sigh, he could already picture a comfortable night spent in his hammock with you in his arms (after minutes of pretending he wants to sleep alone, of course). that nice thought shattered immediately once you walked right past him and into nami's room.

"i assume you're getting changed." the cook stood against the kitchen door with a cigarette in his hand. he looked him up and down in disgust and took a long drag before blowing the smoke in zoro's face. "you should, for your girl."

"why would i get changed?" he took the stick from the blond and threw it towards the sand. sanji simply pulled another one from his pocket.

"for the festival." he spoke with the cigarette between his lips as if it was obvious as he searched his pockets for a lighter.

"yeah, i'm not going to that. not gonna spend my night around a bunch of idiots who think they have to praise the moon or whatever." zoro walked towards the kitchen, making sure his shoulder bumped against the annoying man.

"yes you are." sanji turned to look at him, a smirk on his face. zoro frowned before hearing the faint sound of you and nami laughing.

his eyes closed and his head fell back. he felt sanji pat his shoulder before walking away, snickering between drags of the new cigarette.

as the sun went down and celebrations started, zoro stood at the bottom of the ship, hands awkwardly fidgeting with the neckline of one of your favorite shirts of his as he waited, ignoring the teasing smiles from his friends as he waited for you.

the beach was littered with tents, fairy lights hanging and illuminating the coast, a band occupied an impromptu stage from where they played for the people dancing around. your voice brought his attention back to the ship, from where he saw you coming down with nami.

wrapped in bright pink fabric, you walked into the festival excitedly, staring at everything in wonder. you made eye contact with zoro and tried to reach him before being pulled away by luffy and nami.

looking back at him, you tried to look apologetic as you reached the dancefloor, mouthing an apology before being carried away, getting lost in the multitude.

he considers going after you for a while, but you look happy in the small glimpses he catches of you. it's rare for the crew to be able to relax and have fun for so long, so he decides he can wait for a night.

hour after hour, zoro stares at you from his seat at a table near the tents, watching people, especially luffy, come and go for food. the sky starts to turn completely black as the crowd starts to decrease. the noise is starting to become too much for him, between the loud instruments and sanji's annoying voice as he explains to ussop the cooking methods for the food next to them, he can feel his head starting to pound.

he lets out a deep exhale, grabbing his drink and walking back to the ship.

the music reaches him even here, accompanying him and his bottle as he leans against the rails. you find him in the dark, alone and slightly drunk, and your eyes focus on the tensed muscles of his back.

zoro knows the sound of your steps like he knows every detail of the wado ichimonji, so he doesn't react with more than a sigh to the creaking floor, preparing himself for the conversation you're about to have.

he feels the warmth of your hands traveling through the expanse of his back, smoothing the fabric as you bring them forward, he feels your body press against his and leans back, eyes closed as he feels himself relax.

"you're missing the party." your voice cuts through the silence, accompanied by the soft tunes of strings and a happy town.

"celebrating isn't really my thing." his words come out gruff, and he soothes the hoarseness with a long sip. he's hoping you won't say anything else, but zoro knows you and he knows you won't accept that for an answer.

"but a good bottle of sake is, you usually show up for that. tell me what's wrong." you twisted him around, finally getting him to look at your worried face. his only response was to lift the bottle in his hand, but he knew it wouldn't be enough.

"why did you leave?"

"i didn't know i would have to share my girlfriend so much."

a big grin plastered over your face.

"you just called me your girlfriend."

"that's what you are." despite his monotone voice zoro's eyes averted towards the sea and his thumb started to lightly tap the bottle. "isn't it?"

he focuses on the townspeople. they seem so unworried, dancing without a care in the world, laughing around and enjoying the place they call home. he takes a swig of the bottle before turning around.

his face looks bored and expectant, but still you recognize the small twitch on his tensing jaw.

"i am." you wrap your arms around his neck and press a chaste kiss against his lips. "it's just that it's the first time i hear you say it."

your relationship with zoro was fairly new. a slip of his tongue after you got hurt the last time the marines found the crew and things had sort of changed. no one had said or done anything, but everyone pretended that you suddenly grabbing zoro's hand or kissing his cheek in passing wasn't new at all.

"okay, so... let me get this straight. you got mad because i wasn't spending time with you and instead of talking to me you decided to come here and start brooding in the dark?"

"i'm not brooding."

"yeah, right." you stare at him with a bored expression as your fingers start playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"i'm not. i'm pondering."

"pondering what?"

"whether i like our friends enough to not kill them."

he watches you giggle and smiles, focusing on your lips and the burgundy color that covers them. he frowns at the tone before looking up with raised eyebrows.

"that's a new lipstick."

you laugh again and he feels his heart try to jump out of his chest.

"how do you know?"

"you don't wear colors this dark." he says it as if it was the most obvious thing in the whole world, and you softly smile.

"you know, nami helped me choose it. she said you would like it."

zoro rolled his eyes and took another sip from the bottle.

"you listen to girl advice from nami now?"

you rolled your eyes and pulled him closer, looking up to him with a smile.

"do you like it or not?"

zoro hummed, smiling as he stared at your lips.

"oh, i like it." he smirks before leaning down, pecking your lips again. the color stains his lips as he pulls back, and you smile before kissing his cheek, right under his eye. zoro grins at you and you place another kiss on his other cheek, right on top of his dimples.

placing the bottle on top of the rails, he grabs your hips and starts slowly swinging you at the rhythm of the music as you place yet another kiss on his face, and another, and another, and another.

the two of you come closer with each kiss, caressing each other between laughs. you press your forehead against his and he lifts a hand, gently grabbing your chin before his lips meet yours once again, slower this time.

he pushes you backwards, until your back is hitting the rails, and presses his body against yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth and pushing your head back to deepen the kiss as his fingers caress your face.

"hey, zoro!" luffy's voice pulls you apart and you look down to find the crew staring at you with smirks on their faces. "stop hovering her!"

he stares at you, smiling, before showing luffy his middle finger, ignoring your yelps of surprise and the taunting comments from your friends as he picks you up and carries you to your room.

[midnightstargazer]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks for the tag, @celestemagnoliathewriter

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

42

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

336,066

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Harry Potter

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Toujours Vivant (457 kudos)

The Enemy of My Enemy (308 kudos)

Reborn from the Ashes (203 kudos)

May These Memories Break Our Fall (117 kudos)

The Disowned Heir (86 kudos)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Sometimes. I try to, but a lot of the time I don't get around to it or can't think of what to say. I do always respond if someone asks a question, though.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I've written a lot of angst, but probably Midnight Rain or The Auror's Wife. Both are canon compliant Alice Longbottom fics, and it's hard to get angstier than that.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably Something Borrowed. It's ... not unambiguously happy: it's in the middle of the war, Lily's parents are dead, her relationship with Petunia is not in a great place, and canonically she and James will both be dead in another couple of years. But it's mostly a fluffy wedding fic, and it ends on a very sweet and happy note.

(I would say I'd Marry You With Paper Rings, but that's a 96 word drabble and more of a snapshot of a single moment than a story with an ending).

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet, thankfully

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No. I've done a couple of fade to black and waking up in bed together type scenes, but that's the closest I've gotten.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I'm pretty sure I did a long time ago, but not recently/under this pen name

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

No

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

My favorite HP ships are Tedromeda and Jily, but I'm not sure if I'd call either of them my all-time favorites. I'm coming up blank on what else I've shipped. You know how, when someone asks you what you want for Christmas, all of a sudden you can't think of a single thing? It's like that.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I've got an outline and some notes for a multi-chapter Dorlene-centric fic that takes place toward the end of the first war. I'd like to write it at some point, but it's really not a priority right now. I like the ship and the characters, but I probably don't love them enough to carry me through a longer fic, and I have too many other ideas that I'm more excited about.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm pretty good at capturing emotions and character motivations in my writing.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Getting distracted by shiny new ideas at the expense of my current WIPs. Also, I usually struggle to describe the setting.

18. Thought on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I've used small bits of French, which is the only other language I know well enough to write in. I would be hesitant to use something like Google Translate for a language I'm not familiar with, because it does make mistakes that I wouldn't be able to catch, which could be distracting for someone who actually speaks the language. I have looked up Latin words for new spells, though.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I don't even know. As a kid, I used to make up new stories about shows and books I liked all the time, without even knowing what fanfic was. And then I went through a period of writing stuff down, but not showing it to anyone else or sharing it anywhere. So even if I still had the FFN account I used as a teenager (which I don't), looking at that wouldn't even tell me where I really started.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

Toujours Vivant. This is the idea I couldn't get out of my head that pulled me back from my "I'm an adult, I don't do fandom anymore" phase, and I love it for that.

Open tag for anyone who wants to do this!

[listenblake]

Listen To Me

Three | B.Blake

Notes | I can’t apologize enough, I don’t even know how long I’ve been away from this laptop. I’m so sorry you’ve waited what has felt like centuries. I’ve dealt with a ton of writers block and just lack of motivation in general. I really hope you enjoy this chapter please tell me your thoughts whether it be about this chapter or how annoyed you are that I’m only posting part 3 now.

---------

I woke up in a sweat and examined my surroundings, I then remembered the man- no, Bell had brought me here. The slit in the makeshift tent told me the sun was setting. I attempted to sit up but let out a cry when a shock of pain struck my wound. I cried even more at the frustration of not being able to function as I normally do. But commotion outside distracted me briefly as there were cheers and the smell of smoke.

“Come on (Y/n), you can do it.” Noticing a stick to the left of me, I grabbed it and used it to support myself. I smiled as I stood up, it didn’t matter that I was slightly wobbly, I began to make my way to the opening with baby steps, but each step hurt more than the other. “Alm-ost there. . .”

Suddenly a sense of dizziness and another sting in my side caused me to yelp as I fell forward. “Fuck!”

“Woah, woah, woah, what the hell is going on? You need to remain in bed.” It was another stranger I recognized from the ark.

“I’m sick of it!” I cried once more, this time actual tears formed in my eyes. “Can’t I please go outside? Just sit me down somewhere, I won’t be trouble.”

“Nope, you need to allow this to heal, come on.” The boy brought me back to bed and tossed the stick off to another corner of the tent. “I’ll send someone to check your wounds and another will bring food later, stay in bed.”

I rolled my eyes and huffed in annoyance once he left. 

It wasn’t long after that someone else came in. “Fuck off!”

“I take it you’ve had a shit day.” It was Bell.

“Yeah and what the fuck about it.” I growled.

“I don’t need to hear your attitude, I’m the one who’s pretty much taking care of you.” He was right in a way, but it didn’t change the fact that I was having a crappy time with this injury. He eventually changed my bandages and helped me eat. After it was all done, he spared a glance at the bracelet the guards graced me with.

“What?”

“How would you feel about getting rid of the bracelet?” I pulled my hand to my chest.

“No.” It’s the only thing telling Michael I’m alive, if he thinks I’m dead he’d probably do something to get himself killed.

"Alright... alright, suit yourself." he raised his hands as a form of truce. "You feeling hungr-? Hey, you wanna see something cool?"

I simply nodded.

His response was a swift movement in which he opened the entrance of the tent and I was shocked by the sight of a gorgeous sunset. I had only seen pictures on the colors of a few select books on the Ark that came close to such a view. I felt my eyes water for what felt like the millionth time. I'm sure Bell would've been somewhat concerned if it hadn't been for my shaky smile, he let out a small laugh at my reaction. "Never seen a sunset im guessing?"

"Considering I've been in the Ark, the drop ship. and now your tent, is it really that hard to believe this is my first real life sunset?"

"You've got yourself a point, I'll give you that."

[dyketubbo]

EDIT (10/7/21, og post made in August)

editing this post since apparently people are still finding it but anyways while im not going to take the post down because i personally just dont like deleting posts and i still agree with some of the things said id prefer that if you find this post that you just. didnt interact with it, at least not if youre not going to be respectful. this post is from august, before the clip of phil saying hes fine w qpr hcs (even if i have complicated feelings on that clip, i dont want to risk getting into discourse about this shit again).

it started a giant discussion and got me people harassing me and talking behind my back, one person even telling me people had groups talking about me, it got me being called arophobic, anti-polyam, claimed i was calling people racist and misogynistic, i got told i didnt have friends, i had people vague me and misinterpret what i said and meant, and through it all i had a total of maybe two or three people at most that disagreed with me and were respectful about it. everyone else that disagreed either resorted to vaguing me (or others that stood by me) or they insulted me to my face (in some cases insulting me then blocking me so i couldnt respond).

many of these people were adults. i had recently turned 16 the month before. i dont mean to pull the whole "oo im a minor and neurodivergent" card but the shit that came from this post, that had at the time barely even reached over 500 notes at the discourse's height, genuinely made me relapse in a way that i just. couldnt handle. i was on meds, i took care of my pets, i distracted myself, i talked to my friends, even talked to my therapist, and it didnt help because every time i came back i found another person giving me shit for it. one of my friends tried to defend me and got people targeting them, insulting them and saying increasingly concerning things about me, and they had to leave the fandom for a bit because of it.

i dont trust a good portion of the fandom because of this mess. i dont trust a lot of big blogs or aeduo fans or techno fans or phil fans because of this. its genuinely concerning to me that a post like this caused harassment, even in places i havent seen, maybe even to people i havent seen. even if this post is still vaguely accurate to how i feel about the situation (mainly, how i feel about it all overshadowing kristin and phils relationship) and i still stand by my idea that qprs count as shipping and that because they arent strictly platonic for many people that i cant be comfortable with qp aeduo, i just. dont want people interacting with this, at least not unless you just want to spread the info in this edit or because you want to say something respectfully. otherwise, i just. want this to be left behind me. even to this day i still get paranoia spikes and nearly panic remembering everything that happened because of this post, and being reminded of it just. sucks. if you want to clear anything up feel free to contact me in some way, but if you see this in the tags while browsing somehow, sorry for the long post, and thank you if you read all of this. have a good day

End of Edit (all text below unedited from when the post was originally made)

btw since kristins been confirmed to be canon multiple times over the past like few months and philza has expressed discomfort with shipping content that isnt him and his literal wife can we as a fandom agree to fucking quit it with treating c!emeraldduo as anything other than friends/family ^^ thatd be great. and yes i mean even the fuckin "platonic" marriage shit, even qpr hcs, just let them be friends.

please god stop acting as if a m/m relationship is inherently better than a m/f relationship especially considering how fuckin shittily the fandom treats kristin already, constantly making her out to be some skinny white girl instead of the fat woc she is. just like. let c!emeraldduo be besties, let c!phil and c!kristin be in a happy marriage, quit going against the cc boundaries because you prefer to ship two average white dudes rather than just accept that ones canonically married to the self-insert of his actor's wife. yall all about minorities until ones actually involved and then suddenly its all about your precious white cishet dudes. my god.

[huenjin]

soulmate bruises.

you could have been stuck with any other soulmate mark, so why specifically did it have to be the soulmate scars theory?

pairing | lee juyeon x reader (ft. a few of the boyz) genre | fluff / soulmates!au, high school!au word count | 1,654 words warnings | mentions of bruises, swear words author’s note | reposting of an old fic, edited specifically for lover boy here.

"That looks like a real bad bruise," Haknyeon mumbles. His thumb traces the corners of the bruise and you wince, the pain scourging through your nerves, tingling and rushing through your brain furiously.

"Your soulmate must have gotten hit badly," Chanhee chuckles, looking through the photographs in your camera. You frown and curse under your breath. Haknyeon looks through the papers by your side and you look around the photography club you started with these idiots for the school magazine.

"I’ve got an idea," Changmin's eyes glint mischievously as he walks up to your table, having overheard your conversation. "Let's hit Y/N to inflict pain on her soulmate for having hurt her. It's the perfect plan."

Chanhee raises an eyebrow at Changmin but Haknyeon seems to be all in for the plan. Your forehead scrunches in annoyance, your eyebrows furrowing together as you pinch the skin to distract yourself. You groan, mumbling, "Shut up for a second, will you?"

"Fine, spoilsport," the one who suggests the plan says, pressing his lips together in disappointment. He soon began, "My idea was great. All you low lives will never understand."

"I'm going to find this nasty motherfucker," you stand up, determined. The chair pushes back and the table jerks forward as you press your hand down on it firmly. "And he's going to pay for hurting me so much. These bruises take forever to fade away."

Haknyeon stands up soon after, "We just have to find another individual in this city that has the same ugly bruise on their face as she does."

Chanhee and Changmin follow suit, albeit reluctantly. The latter chuckles sardonically, "This is going to be easy. How many people do we even have to search? Yeah, just mere tens of thousands in this city."

Chanhee digresses, "Let's cancel all the nice-looking dudes because our girl here doesn't have good luck."

"You're an arsehole, dude. An arsehole, I say."

"What's with the weird We're Avengers formation you guys have on?" 

Younghoon walks into the room with a cup of coffee and Ray-Bans like he's making an entrance and you roll your eyes. He places the glasses on the table and sighs, "It's cool and everything but Juyeon's hurt, Chanhee. He won't tell it out loud, but yeah, he's hurt and he needs help. The nurse isn't in yet."

"He's hurt?" Chanhee asks, concerned.

"Hurt, oh yes. This is perfect." Changmin chirps and Younghoon raises an eyebrow.

"You're Team Rocket now?" He furrows his eyebrows and glances over at you disappointed, almost as if it is your stupidity that has nurtured them into these. "Anyhow, Chanhee, follow me. The rest of you stay put."

Haknyeon, Changmin and you listen because Younghoon was a mere acquaintance. He was, however, Chanhee's childhood friend, and since he is Chanhee's friend, you have seen Lee Juyeon around — at parties, at the basketball court, in the hallways. And that is it. 

So, why would you care if this man was hurt?

Unless he got hit like a bitch on his face.

Later that night, you hold yourself close, tears threatening to spill from the corners of your eyes. It feels like your ribs are being slammed into something and the pain is unbearable. It leaves you breathless and a little shaky on the ground. You scream at one point and slow winces leave your lips as you try to hold it in.

Haknyeon knocks and walks into your room when you don't reply. He shifts you slightly, his hands rubbing your back slightly as you lightly cry, "I hate that bitch but he must be in so much pain if I'm feeling this much." 

Haknyeon's angry. In all honesty, he gets the soulmate mark and how that should help people be happy but never has it led you to your soulmate, only providing pain along with the entire experience. Soulmates are not supposed to bring pain.

Your teeth clench in pain as you sit up. Your feet dangle for a while before it touches the ground and you stand up, ignoring the pain that seers through your body.

"I'm finding that motherfucker, that's it."

Haknyeon chuckles at your resilience. He helps you stand well and watches your determined expression, mumbling, "The boy's dead meat for sure. Either in your hands or the one that's hurting him."

Finding him is easier than you expected. Haknyeon helps you and the two of you leave the house in pursuit of the man with injuries — a bruised face and now, bruised ribs. You have always wanted to meet your soulmate for, a) he was nasty enough to get himself hurt without bothering about your well being, b) he is your soulmate, and deep down, you want to care for him, heal his wounds, and. . . slap some sense into him because it's a connection and he should respect it. 

You message Chanhee, knowing if you should start anywhere, it's the closest person you know who has an injury.

You: chanhee? [11:23 PM] Chanhee is a hoe: Juyeon's number? here. [11:23 PM] Chanhee is a hoe: [Juyeon's contact] [11:24 PM] You: what the fuck? [11:24 PM] Chanhee is a hoe: thank me later. [11:24 PM] Chanhee is a hoe: don't kill him. but if it makes you feel better, i'm shipping you two and that his bruise is nastier. [11:30 PM]

"It's Juyeon, isn't it?" Haknyeon pipes and you watch his smile curve upwards. "Turns out Chanhee isn't that useless."

"He is. That arsehole didn't tell me till I asked him of it. What if I didn't? Would he have let me go on a wild goose chase?"

Your phone pings again and you groan, albeit very grateful for his existence 

Chanhee is a hoe: [Juyeon's address] [11:36 PM]

Haknyeon laughs, "Knowing him, yes." He drums the bonnet of the car, waiting for you to hop in and when you do, he enters, igniting the engine and zooming away to the address Chanhee has sent you.

Upon reaching his place, Haknyeon wishes you luck and tells you that he'd rather wait in the car and that if you planned on staying the night, then, you should text him so that he could leave. You smile and storm away, trying to build up the rage within you to lash out at your soulmate.

"Lee Juyeon," you slam at his door. "Lee Juyeon, open your door." 

You hit the steel door as hard as you can, unbothered by the pain that now seers through your fist. At this rate, you'll be hospitalized with your soulmate and you could have your first date there. How nice; not.

"Y/N?" he opens the door, and you notice the redness around the sides of his fist. Your eyes widen and the air is taken away from your lungs as you stare wide-eyed at the man before you.

Lee Juyeon is gorgeous. He leaves you feeling dazed like a comet hitting the earth's crater, strong and hard. He is tall enough to tower you and his eyes sparkle with hope. You notice the bruise on his face under the dim street light by his house and you gape.

"It could be you."

"Huh?"

You run back to the car, tapping at Haknyeon's glass. He pulls it down and hands you a paper cup of hot coffee. You look at him with a snug expression. You notice Juyeon watching you with confusion. You take big strides towards the man and open the cup, only to throw the hot coffee onto his chest, in the same area that had you wincing moments ago.

It hits you a second too late. You drop the cup, holding your upper abdomen, your fingers digging into the underside of your breasts as you fall on your knees. You definitely did not think this through. Juyeon merely clenches his teeth tightly, and you realise that with all this experience you both shared, he's the only one who knows how to deal with the pain.

Haknyeon chuckles at the sight, and almost on cue, he pulls his car back and drives a bit away, parking it by a big tree. Juyeon kneels along with you and helps you up, "Let's put some ice there."

"That was a very bad idea. 0/10 would not recommend."

You're holding your chest and your abdomen messily and you're cursing at Juyeon, "Are you a gangster? A thug? Why do you keep getting hurt?"

"A boxer, actually and I keep getting hurt because Sangyeon will not go easy on me. I'm sorry. You must have been through shit," Juyeon's voice is soothing. Like a fresh warm bath with your favorite soap bombs and a ducky. He helps you into his house, lays you on his sofa carefully as he goes to grab ice.

"Maybe this wasn't all of a bad idea," you shout, and Juyeon chuckles. He even laughs beautifully; how? He asks if he could lift your shirt up as he comes back to your side with a bag full of ice. You nod and he lifts your shirt up, grimacing at the purple bruises that have formed by your abdomen and the area under your breasts. Juyeon is too worried to let his eyes stray anywhere else as he mumbles apologies after apologies.

"It's okay," you chuckle nervously, feeling conscious and slightly bad for your soulmate. "At least now I have you. We'll get through this pain together. You can take care of me and I can take care of you."

Juyeon feels his insides bubbling, his chest tightens, and his heart bloom. If this is what a soulmate's love feels like, he could get high on it. His face gets close to your skin and his lips slightly trace the bruises, before placing kisses on it and then, the ice, all while mumbling, "I'd like that. I'd really like that."

[thrndlngs]

three times shinsou misses the opportunity to kiss you + the one time he seized the moment.

── pairing, shinsou x fem!prohero!reader ── request: x times shinsou wants to kiss fem reader??? pLZ I NEED IT ── author’s note: this was super dope & cute to write. tysm for sending this in. i hope i did this justice and it wasn’t to out of character.  also reader has a water quirk & the two of you are in your early twenties.  ♡ 

i.

     "'toshi,” you whispered, chest against his as the two of you currently hid from the group of villains. your two agencies had partnered up in attempt to take down a new gang of villains who were transporting drugs from the city to the waters, the two of you were partnered because of how the two of you excelled in your respective agencies, shinsou was sent to aid in your patrols of the waters  ──  which is why the two of you are currently hiding in a storage closet on a ship. 

  “shut up.” you don’t take it to heart, you’re sure he means it as nicely as possible - he just lacks a few pages in the ‘vocabulary’ department. 

  “we need to do something.” you tell him, trying your best to meet his gaze in the tight space (which was nearly impossible because he’s towering over you at the moment). he doesn’t reply, not at first at least, if you looked hard enough you would probably see the gears in his head turning. 

  “──stop talking, it’s distracting me.” 

  your mouth quickly shuts, fidgety hands are now at your side, you were starting to get antsy and there was practically little to no room to move around without being heard - or seen for that matter. 

  “they switch the guards every ten minutes, in the middle of the switch, we run.” the purple haired male explained, taking a peak at the time on his cellphone. the two of you had to endure this for three more minutes. just three more minutes and you would be free.

  “three minutes,” you repeated, more to confirm this for yourself. you’re sure you wouldn’t last that long, after all, this was shinsou, the male you’ve had a crush on for quite some time now. how were you expected to last that long?

  “──think of it like seven minutes of heaven.”

  “we haven’t played that since── “

  “yeah, yeah i know, but just think of it like that. don’t think about the closet, just the game.” 

  you nodded quickly, meeting his gaze as the two of you stood there in silence. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t thinking about kissing him. it seemed like the perfect moment - it was just the two of you. if it were the last day on earth, you at least wanted to go out with a bang. you know?

  “let me get comfortable, you can do the same after.” you watched as he places either hands besides your head, slouching a bit against the wall so his back could have some sort of support. he nods to you, signaling for you to do the same. 

  it takes you a moment, the position shinsou is currently in causes your heart to skip just a few beats. were you disappointed in yourself for letting your mind drift.. elsewhere during a mission? for sure. did you care right now? absolutely not.

  you cleared your throat, widening your stance and trying to balance the weight in between your legs to help ease some of the weight  ──  but there wasn’t really much you could do.

  “two minutes.” 

   this had to be the longest three minutes of your life.

   “i think i just tasted my own sweat.” he complained. it feels like he’s sweating in places he shouldn’t produce sweat in.

  “i feel like a fish out of water,” you added.

  “──gonna start passing out if i don’t throw you in the water soon?”

  “says the one whose sweating to death.” 

  “and you’re dehydrated. guess we’re both shit out of luck aren’t we?”

  “yeah, but, i think this isn’t the worst way to die.” 

  he takes another peak at his cellphone, noting that there’s a minute left before the two of you could finally get out of this damn storage closet. “you’ve got a minute to tell me anything worse than dying like this.” 

  in hindsight ── there’s a lot that could happen in a minute, that’s the only reason you said something to begin with. “alone, i could die in this closet, alone and then you know, it would be lonely.” 

 “are you serious?” 

  “oh come on! that’s pretty serious!”

  “it ── it really isn’t,” he’s trying to laugh as quietly as possible and you playfully slapped him in his shoulder. 

 “okay, well, i wouldn’t want to die alone.”

  “mhm, scaredy cat.” his smile is infectious and for a moment, he forgets that the two of you are stuck in a storage closet. maybe now would be the perfect time to kiss you, when it’s just the two of you, waiting to make your grand escape, when the two of your are just centimeters apart. 

  “now’s our chance,” he whispered, straightening himself to get out first just in case. he doesn’t want to act off of impulses. if he kisses you, he wants to make sure it’s because you want him too.

ii.

     “good to see you when you’re not acting like a goldfish who just hopped out of it’s bowl.” the familiar voice teased from behind you, hands folded behind his head. if it were anyone else, you might have tripped them.

  “──don’t you have to go buy hair dye now or something?”

  “no that was after i made sure a fisherman didn’t take you on the way home.”

  “is this what do you do on your spare time? think of jokes that revolve around my quirk?”  

  he rolls his shoulder lazily, leaning against the apartment railing across from your front door. “they come naturally, no extra thinking required.”

  “and here i thought all the hair dye went to your brain.”

   this wasn’t out of the norm for the two of you, he would make the first jab and then you would follow suit. sometimes, the bickering could go on for hours  ──  regardless of task at hand (like the time the two of you were trying to detain a villain and shinsou had told the woman you were a water sprite), it’s an old nickname of yours, he had given it to you back at the sports festival when you were kids. you had earned it when you had almost drown mineta because he wouldn’t stop making inappropriate jokes and you had brought the entire water fountain down on him. 

  as the two of you stood there in silence, you, had your back against your door, hands folded behind you while he stood parallel, arms against his chest he wonders: is this the time he kisses you goodnight? 

  “d’ya want to come inside? i have leftovers? we could pull an all nighter like we used to do back in the dorms?” there’s a hint of hopefulness in your eyes and he would feel like absolute shit if he declined the offer.

  “only because you have food.” 

  he doesn’t kiss you goodnight then. and he doesn’t kiss you goodnight when you fall asleep on his shoulder after the second horror movie either. if you were anyone else, he would’ve left without a care in the world, but it’s you and you are different. 

  so he stays and tells himself that tomorrow will be a new day and tomorrow, he can try again.

iii.

     “i don’t dance,” shinsou tells you as you so desperately tried to bring him onto the dance floor. it’s a hero’s gala, everyone from your respective classes at U.A. were here, pro heroes from all around the world and some of your old instructors as well  ──  these aren’t his thing, you know that. you remember his attitude during the first two hours of the third year’s ‘goodbye party’ - not much had changed. he’s taller, a bit more handsomer and smiles more often. 

  “you do tonight, come on.” while you had dragged him by one hand, the other desperately tried to loosen his tie because it feels like he’s suffocating. 

  “──you’ll be the death of me woman.” he’s mumbling under his breath, one hand resting in yours as the other found its place at your waist.

  “because i asked you to dance? might i say this is on your list of horrible ways to die?” you teased, offering him that infectious smile that makes him go weak in his knees. he hates to admit the pull you have on him  ──  he might even go as far as saying you might have him wrapped around that finger of yours and you don’t even know it yet.

  “if it’s by your hands i would say it’s a merciful death.”

  “a merciful death? i’ll keep that in mind.” 

  “don’t test your luck,” you know he’s only messing with you  ──  

  you’re to busy enjoying the moment to think of some witty comeback. it’s something about the way your hand seems to fit perfectly in his. or how the two of you are able to move in sync without any words spoken in between the two of you that’s driving you insane.

  if you would’ve told your past self that you would be slow dancing with the hitoshi shinsou at a hero’s gala while the world around you disappeared you would’ve laughed at the idea. it would’ve seem silly to you  ──  stupid even. shinsou and you weren’t rivals like you and bakugou were, but, you had always found yourself trying to one up him. 

  yet here you were, swaying to the slow tune as you managed to snake your arms around his midsection and rest a head against his chest. maybe this was his chance: with the little distance in between the two of you, dim lighting and dressed to the nines. surely, this would be a good memory to relive later down the road wouldn’t it? 

  but he wanted to savor the moment. so he decides it against it  ── despite the ache in his chest.

  iv.

     "we did it.” shinsou muses, an awkward hand offered in your direction for you to shake. it’s been six months but your agencies had finally shut down the smuggling operation and you could finally take the break you had so desperately needed. you weren’t sure what to do with the outstretched hand, but, you give in anyways, resting your hand in his as he gave it a firm shake.

  “pleasure doing business with you.” you tell him, lips curving into a bittersweet smile. teasing, bickering and ‘playful’ sparring aside, you were going to miss him. you were used to patrolling and doing missions on your own but this was different. 

  “try not to end up on the other side of fishing hook, yeah?” it’s his way of telling you to be careful in shinsou’s teasing nature.

  “make sure i’m the one to grant you the merciful death.” please be careful, is what you want to say. though you couldn’t bring yourself to say it aloud - if you did, it would only confirm that you care about the purple haired pro hero more than you should. 

  he shakes his head with a laugh, “you’re the only one who gets the satisfaction.” 

  “it better stay that way ‘toshi.” 

  he doesn’t know for certain if your agencies would cross paths again. your agency was closer to the waters and he was closer in the city, the chance that you would run into one another again would be slim to none. 

 he clears his throat for a moment, retreating his hand from yours and placing them at your waist instead. he’s pictured this a thousand times but now that he’s in the moment he couldn’t manage to find the right words. it’s frustrating, really.

  “──hi.” you’re holding your breath in anticipation, was this another one of his games? was he going to kiss you? tell you a secret? use his capture weapon and tell you that he’s not letting you go until you admit something embarrassing?

  he doesn’t care anymore. doesn’t care if it makes him look like a love sick idiot when he kisses you like it’s the last thing he’s about to do before he dies, he doesn’t care if anyone’s watching or for the wrinkles you’ll cause since you’ve got a fistful of his shirt in a desperate attempt to close whatever little distance the two of you had between you. 

  you pull away first causing him to pout (which was actually cute but you’d never give him the satisfaction of knowing that) but you do laugh.

  “you know,” he muses, a hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly, a habit you hadn’t seen in years. “──i didn’t want to let you walk away without something to remember, my little water sprite.” 

  you rolled your eyes at the choice of nickname but were flattered nonetheless, your own arms finding their way around his neck, “who said i was walking away?”

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (chapter 10 - FINALE)

series masterlist

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 6k

warnings: implied smut, angst, fluff, romcom tropes, lots of swearing, pregnancy mention/minor breeding kink

note: click the asterisk for a hyperlink to a translation when the time comes

Six months later...

“It’s good!” she beamed, setting down the last chunk of pages and taking off her reading glasses. “Oh man, that ending hurt, but it’s really, really good!”

You leaned back into the plush chair and sighed with relief. “You think so?”

“It’s best-seller material,” she assured. “With some editing, of course. God, I can’t believe you were sitting on this for so long.”

“What are the biggest changes you want to make?” you asked.

“Well, I’m thinking we’ll cut the romantic subplot,” she mentioned in passing, like it was no big deal. “It’s distracting.

“Distracing?” you repeated. “Nia, it’s the story. It’s a romance.”

“I thought it was a thriller,” she frowned.

“A romance disguised as a thriller,” you corrected.

“Listen, I get what you mean, but I didn’t get this—” she tapped the nameplate on her desk: ‘NIA BROWN, HEAD PUBLISHER’ in shiny letters— “for nothing. I know what I’m talking about, and I know what your readers want. Violence, gore, drama!”

“It has all that!” you defended. “But it’s all there to talk about the real love he finds in her!”

“What do you mean ‘real love’?” she pressed flatly.

“I mean…” you pondered. “I mean love where you feel like a version of yourself that you actually like. Love where you feel unjudged, no precedents or caveats or back-up plans. Love that fucking hurts because you never wanted to rely on anything or anybody. Love that lives in silence because you don’t even need words.”

She furrowed her brow. “That… sounds nice, I guess, but I don’t think anybody really has that. Everybody needs a back-up plan. Everybody needs words— a writer should know that.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” you groaned, your face falling into your hands. “I’m so fucking stupid. Jesus Christ, I’m a moron.”

“What? What’s going on?”

“I had that! I had that, and I let it go! I’m the dumbest bitch on the fucking face of the Earth.”

“Don’t say that,” she soothed, but you were already standing up.

“No, I need to find him,” you decided as you grabbed your coat and briefcase. “I need to go back and try to fix this. I love him, I’ve never— I didn’t know I could love like that, I didn’t know I could be loved like that… oh my god, I need to find him. It isn’t over.”

“It isn’t over?” she repeated incredulously. “You said Michael signed the papers!”

“It’s not Michael,” you rolled your eyes as you stormed out of the office. “It was never Michael.”

You ran into the first telephone box you could find, slamming the door shut as you searched your purse for the business card that probably wasn't even in there.

After a moment, you gasped with delight when you pulled it from a very bottom pocket and began punching in the number as fast as possible with shivering hands, long-distance charges be damned.

“Hello?” the confused voice on the other end answered.

“Mrs. Alberti, hi— does Sebastian still work for you?” you asked hastily.

“No, dear," she sighed, apparently recognizing you by just your voice (and likely your request), "he quit recently, and moved away.”

“Moved?" you repeated with a wrinkled brow. "Where?!”

“I assume back home, sweetheart; to Bucharest.”

“Shit,” you sighed. “Shit!”

“Are you having your ‘run through the airport’ moment, sweetheart?” she realized.

“Yes, I think so— do you have his address?”

“Well, no, but I’ll see what I can find.”

You waited rather impatiently as she shuffled through papers in the background, mumbling to herself as she apparently searched for information that could help you.

“All I’ve got is the address of a previous employer… a carpenter,” she finally explained, breaking the silence. “It was his only reference when he came to work here," she explained.

"Wow, you really did just hire him for his looks," you blurted out.

"He was desperate for work, that boy had nowhere else to go,” she defended.

“Right, well, I guess if that’s my only lead then I’ve gotta go for it,” you decided. “Thank you, Mrs. Alberti.”

“I told you to call me when that book was a hit. Did it happen yet?” she piped up.

“It’s not published yet,” you explained. “It needs some more work… but I think it’s almost ready.”

“I think so, too, dear.”

Learn Romanian in 10 Weeks! A practical language guide.

Week 1, Day 1: Greetings

Hello                      Salut

Goodbye                La revedere

Thank you              Mulțumesc

You’re welcome      Cu plăcere

Good morning         Bună dimineata

Good afternoon       Bună ziua

Good evening          Bună seara

Good night               Noapte bună

You brushed your hair back out of your face with a sigh, turning the page as you mumbled the phrases to yourself. Broken Hungarian and your high school education in Latin were not getting you as far with this as you had been hoping.

How are you?          Ce mai faci

I love you                 Te iubesc

“Te iubesc, te iubesc, te iubesc,” you repeated over and over in a whisper.

Each day you had a new routine: practice Romanian for an hour, check flight prices online (or call the airline), research what you knew about Sebastian and the address Mrs. Alberti had given you, and then get back to practicing Romanian again.

Oh, and occasionally you worked on the edits Nia wanted for your manuscript. You were focusing on the minor changes— grammar errors, rearranging sentences— and putting off her big request for the removal and replacement of the romantic aspects. More than ever, they seemed like the most important thing the book had to offer.

You had a small apartment, just a place to sleep and shower really; much too small to fit everything you’d already taken from Michael’s house (you know, the one that used to be your house) along with what he’d shipped to you that you forgot before. He included a letter in the package as well. You threw it out, unopened.

Truthfully, you never really fully unpacked. As much as you realized you probably should, in order to really feel like you had a real home, you couldn’t bring yourself to empty your suitcases when you knew you’d be packing them again any day now.

You also realized how outrageous this all was. Ignoring the unlikelihood of even finding him in the first place, Sebastian probably wouldn’t want anything to do with you after you broke his heart, left, and then randomly tracked him down after over half a year. But to be totally transparent, you weren’t really doing this to get him back, necessarily. You knew that was probably never going to happen. You were doing this because you needed to try. You needed to go there, and get hurt, and come back knowing you did everything you could: you’d never be able to live with yourself if you did anything less than that.

You couldn’t start your new life until you had put everything else to bed. And if that meant being 100%, painfully certain that you and Sebastian could never be together, then that was just how it needed to be.

After two weeks of looking, there still weren’t any reasonable flights to Bucharest, so you booked another trip by train, figuring you could use the three day trip to brush up on the key Romanian phrases you were going to need as well as prepare your speech.

Yes, your plan was a speech. You didn’t have a back-up plan. You didn’t even have a return ticket back to London yet.

A passage by Yeats came to mind; But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.

In all your life, you’d never understood before why someone would want to only have their dreams. But now, here you were… and yes, it felt terrifying and vulnerable and uncomfortably naked, but it felt pretty damn good, too.

With a sigh, you scribbled out the last sentence you’d written, tossing the trash paper aside. You looked up out the window at the scenery flying by in a blur, worried that if you didn’t look out from the train every once in a while you’d get motion sickness.

The sun was beginning to set already, the green of hills and trees tinted orange. You only indulged in it for a moment, though, before getting back to this god-forsaken speech you were deadset on finishing before you arrived in Bucharest tomorrow. At first, you’d figured the translating would be the most difficult part… but writing in English wasn’t exactly a piece of cake, either. You had so much to say, and suddenly so few words for any of it.

You’d probably done more editing on this than any of your novels combined; the crumpled up pages spilling out of your wastebasket were proof enough of that.

“And I’m a fucking writer!” you groaned aloud, to no one in particular. “How is anybody else supposed to be able to do this, if I can’t?”

Other people aren’t as emotionally constipated as you, the voice of your inner critic reminded you plainly, making you roll your eyes at yourself.

A rap at your door made you sit up straighter and turn around. A stewardess slid open the frosted glass slightly to give you a friendly smile. “Is everything alright, ma’am?”

Your brows furrowed at the sound of her accent. “Is that a Romanian accent?” you asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” she nodded.

“So you’re fluent in Romanian and English,” you concluded.

“And Portuguese, yes ma’am,” she agreed.

“Could you come in here for a moment and help me translate something?”

She seemed slightly confused at the request but stepped forward, sliding the door most of the way shut behind her. Leaning beside you on the desk, she picked up your handwritten letter and blinked her wide, brown eyes a few times. You felt slightly embarrassed knowing she was reading such intimate thoughts, but that was how it felt the first time someone read anything you wrote so you were pretty much used to it by now.

“I usually ask the passengers what brings them to Bucharest,” she mumbled after a moment. “This is the most interesting thing so far. Am I reading this correctly, that you intend to confess your love to someone you met—” she scanned the page quickly— “during a vacation in Hungary?”

“Yup,” you smiled awkwardly, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word.

“And he doesn’t speak English?” she assumed; you nodded. “And… you don’t speak Romanian?”

You nodded again, and she breathed in and out quickly, sitting beside you as she stared at the letter.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” she explained.

“Sorry for sucking you into the entropic vortex that is my life,” you chuckled.

“I don’t mean to pry,” she sighed, setting the letter down, and you laughed a little internally at the idea that she was worried about prying when she just read the most personal piece of writing you’d ever put to the page, “but do you think this is… enough? I mean, to build a relationship on?”

You just gave her a shrug. “I have no idea. But, you know, I spent my whole life worrying about stuff like that. I dated my husband for seven years before we got married, because I wanted to be sure. I was initially interested in him because he was successful and ambitious, and it made me feel like this was a really secure relationship that I could rely on. I double majored in English and Computer Science because I wanted a more stable career to fall back on in case being a writer didn’t work out, and even though it did, I’ve spent most of my career publishing what I thought people wanted to read instead of what I wanted to write, so I’d have a better shot at a good paycheck. I grew up thinking the best thing I could ever have was security. And now I’m divorced, watching my royalties shrink every month, more insecure in every way than I’ve ever been, and I’m realizing that the choices I made didn’t give me what I wanted. I gave up so much in the name of safety, and I let the one good thing I’d ever found go, so I could go back to being the same person I always was. I’m ready to settle again, if this doesn’t work… I’m ready to accept that this is just the way life goes, and be thankful that I got a taste of the kind of stuff I thought only existed in the sort of books I’d read but never write.”

She swallowed as she looked at you, and you felt your eyes water as you stared out the window towards the dimming scenery one more time, smiling at the sight of a distant village, a church with a steeple, vineyards and farms. Someone’s whole life is in that little town, you imagined, and they’re just watching your train go by like they see every other day.

“Sebastian gave me more security than I’d ever had before, even though the whole thing was such a ridiculous little whirlwind, and nothing like I ever imagined my life could be. But he made me want to be honest and raw and write sappy letters like the one you just read. He doesn’t have any money, at least as far as I know, and I haven’t known him for seven years, and on paper it makes no sense… but you would understand if you knew him. If you felt that joy that he radiates, if you saw him live his simple little life like it’s the best thing in the world. You would understand if you knew how much I needed this. You would understand if you had been just as miserable being who I’ve been for so long, and finally had a chance to be somebody you think you were maybe meant to be the whole time. So, if I never see him again, I hope I just get to thank him.”

You waited for her to say something, but furrowed your brow at the long moment of silence, looking back from the window finally and finding her staring at you with a tear running down her cheek. When you met her gaze, she quickly wiped it away with a sniffle and looked down at your desk again. “Let’s get to translating, shall we?” she announced with a half-smile.

You noticed the way the other passengers looked at you as everyone was in line to deboard from the train car; you stuck out like a sore thumb, since everybody else was carrying heavy luggage and all you had was a backpack.

In your defense, you really had no idea how to pack for a trip where you knew neither the duration nor the true final destination. So, it was mainly filled with your essentials, a few clothes for any kind of weather, and enough leu to buy anything else you needed along the way.

The stewardess was waving goodbye to everyone as they shuffled out into the train station, occasionally stopping to shake a hand or give directions to nearby destinations. When you were just about to pass by, though, she pulled you into a tight hug.

“Good luck,” she whispered, holding you just a moment too long before pulling back and giving you an encouraging look. “If he doesn’t take you back, feel free to blame my translation… because if he knows what’s in your heart, I know he’ll say yes.”

“Yeah, that’s the hard part isn’t it?” you laughed weakly. “Thank you for your help. I guess if I come back alone for the return trip tonight, you’ll know how bad it went.”

“Then I hope I don’t see you again,” she winked.

It being a major train station and all, cabs were waiting around every corner so it was pretty easy to grab one and give them the address you already had written down for this exact purpose.

“This is pretty far,” the driver explained, “on the edge of town. Not a tourist spot.”

“Good, because I’m not a tourist,” you nodded, already only giving him half your attention as you pulled out the translated speech to practice.

“And you can afford this?” he pressed. You sighed and dug through your bag, pulling out a haphazard stack of bills and handing them through the plastic partition.

“Is this enough?” you asked, and he didn’t answer, just taking the money and starting the car as you smiled and leaned back in your seat.

As much as you had tried to convince yourself to not get your hopes up, the butterflies in your stomach felt more like whole birds at this point, demanding to break free as you practiced the words hand-written on the page over and over again, committing it all to memory.

“What are you reading?” the cab driver asked after several minutes.

“Oh, nothing,” you mumbled, “sorry if I’m bothering you, you can turn on the radio.”

“No, it’s not bothering me, but what you are saying… it’s very odd. It sounds like something from a play, or movie,” he explained.

“Um, it’s not,” you replied, a little embarrassed. “But does it sound like it’s from a good movie? Like, if you heard a character say this to another character, would you think they should get together?”

“I… don’t know,” he answered, sounding confused. “I mean, it depends on what happened, right? How they met, how well they get along…”

So, you told him the whole story, as succinctly as possible (which is not very succinct at all). By the end, he was actually giving commentary as you spoke.

“Why the hell did you leave?” he interjected, clearly irritated with you. “You loved him!”

“Yeah, well, sometimes love isn’t enough! I loved my husband too, and look how that turned out,” you defended.

“But that’s different. That was love for all the wrong reasons.”

“I promise, it felt very real at the time,” you shrugged.

“And now?” he countered. “You realize that this man— Sebastian, right?— is real.”

“I hope I’m right this time,” you offered. “But even if I am, he may not agree.”

The driver scoffed, taking a hand off the wheel to wave dismissively. “If he’s anything like you said, then he will still be completely in love with you. After all, you still feel the same way after all this time apart, don’t you?”

“If anything, I love him more every day,” you admitted, your heart beating quickly just to say it aloud.

“You know, when I met my wife, she was engaged to another man. He was rich, good-looking, and he wasn’t even a bad guy unlike this husband you describe. He was a good man, but he wasn’t right for her. They were… content together, but she wasn’t truly happy. Every night I would come to her window and beg her to marry me, because I knew that she knew we were meant for each other, but she was scared because her family wouldn’t approve and she would be a poor man’s wife.”

“How did you convince her to marry you instead?” you asked eagerly, sucked into the story already.

“I didn’t. On the day of the wedding, some people told me to go and break it up but I didn’t. I thought it would be wrong, to try to ruin her happiness and take it for myself by making a scene at the wedding. I realized she was her own woman and if she wanted to choose him, I had to let her. I had locked myself in my house, not wanting to see anyone that day, and she appeared at my door. I didn’t need to convince her because she knew the truth in her heart, and called off the wedding herself.”

“Wow,” you smiled.

“She was still in her dress!” he recalled with a hearty laugh. “She looked like an angel. We were married just a few days later. And next month will be thirty years,” he added as he lifted his left hand to show the golden band on his finger.

“Thirty years, that’s… a long time,” you sighed.

“It wasn’t always easy,” he admitted. “But it was always worth it.”

Just as you wondered what you could possibly say to that, you felt the car slow down to a stop.

“This is the address you gave me, this is it,” he explained, pointing out his passenger-side window. You leaned up against the glass and gasped in dawning fear as you saw the storefront dark and empty inside.

“No, nonono,” you whispered rapidly to yourself as you swung open the door and hopped out, pressing your face against the glass to try to get a look inside and finding what was undeniably a closed carpentry business. There was a note on the door, taped on the inside of the glass, and you knew enough Romanian to know it said something about a vacation and three months.

“Shit!” you yelped, holding your face in your hands, wondering if your journey had come to an end before it really began.

“Are you alright?” the driver asked, rolling down his window to speak to you.

“This was my only lead, I don’t have his real address,” you explained. “He used to work here, I thought maybe someone would know him…”

He sighed, giving you a sympathetic look. “Get back in, we can search nearby. You came too far to give in yet.”

But getting back in the car felt like giving in, too, which you realized as you looked back at the note taped to the carpenter's door. This was the closest you'd gotten, and it felt wasteful to leave with nothing.

Just as you were ready to hop in the passenger seat and start searching aimlessly through suburban Bucharest, or maybe look around for a Romanian yellow pages, you heard a noise from behind you, across the street; a laugh. His laugh. But it couldn’t be because it was too good to be true… and yet you found yourself whipping your head around and hoping beyond all reason that it was Sebastian.

Across the street was a restaurant, with a large patio where patrons were dining and chatting as they sat at wrought iron tables, and your eyes searched the crowd for any signs of him.

And then your gaze landed on a head of thick brunette hair, red and gold highlights so obvious now when the sunlight hit it this way. Broad shoulders wrapped in a white button-up shirt. He was facing away from you but he was looking to the side so you could see his face; he was smiling, laughing at something someone had said. And it was his smile that you recognized; it was like everything else faded away, and in that moment you thought maybe you could almost be happy with just this, just seeing him be happy even if it had nothing to do with you.

“Sebastian,” you called out to him, but he didn’t react. “Sebastian!”

His whole body turned, his eyes met yours, and you couldn't help but let the tears well in your eyes as you ran across the road to him.

He looked, understandably, stunned, and you realized he was actually waiting on a table at the moment; he said something to them, apparently excusing himself, and stepped closer to you.

But he stopped walking, not coming any closer, not exactly dragging you into his arms like you might've preferred, but with a breath to try to soothe your racing mind, you summoned your memories of the practiced letter and began. *

“Când am venit în Ungaria…” you started slowly, doing your best to remember the words and hoping your pronunciation wasn’t too awful, “nu căutam dragoste. Căutam spațiu, claritate și poate o idee de carte de un milion de dolari. În schimb, am găsit tot ce am căutat toată viața mea…”

You did your best to bite back tears, especially when his expression was nearly unreadable and you had no idea how well this was going.

“Ești tu, Sebastian, bineînțeles că ești tu,” you sighed, laughing slightly. “Ai fost acolo pentru mine când nici nu știam ce vreau de la nimeni. Ai fost prietenul meu fără să spui vreodată un cuvânt - cel puțin nu un cuvânt pe care l-am înțeles. M-ai iubit și nu știam ce să fac cu asta, pentru că uitasem cu mult timp în urmă cum se simțea să fii iubit. Și ce simțeai să iubești cu adevărat pe cineva. Dar te iubesc. Și am fost prost să te las să pleci, atât de neconceput de prost. Vreau să fim noi, Sebastian. Lasă-mă să te iubesc, mai dă-mi o șansă și îți promit că nu te voi mai lăsa să pleci niciodată.

The first thing he said was your name, and just the way he said it made you fall in love with him all over again.

“I… I dream that you would come back,” he shakily replied. “But now I cannot believe. You are my dream.”

Tears were openly flowing at this point and you wanted to run into his arms, but you tried to stay calm and hear him out. He stepped closer, almost hesitant, like you would run away if he got too close too fast.

“I love you, very much that I am sure I am insane person,” he explained with a grin, and you giggled. “We will live anywhere, do anything you would like— be my wife.”

You gasped as he pulled you into him, gripping your arms tightly as his desperation became apparent.

“Marry me?” he asked softly.

“Da,” you nodded, “yes, of course, anything—”

He kissed you suddenly, but gently, and it said more than any words in any language could.

It was a small wedding, in the Hungarian countryside by the lake. You could remember diving into that lake for lost pages of your manuscript; you could remember looking out over the water and dreaming of this moment you were living right now, thinking it was impossible.

He didn’t have much family, but they welcomed you with open arms.

Your family, well, they were too busy with planning another wedding, for your ex-husband and your ex-sister. A few of them sent cards but the rest were suspiciously quiet. You honestly didn’t even notice… you had a new family to attend to, anyhow. And it wasn’t like you didn’t have any guests, since you were able to track down and invite a stewardess named Maria, and a cab driver named Andrei and his wife, Paola.

Sebastian’s cousins weaved flowers into your hair and his grandmother tailored her dress to fit you like a glove. A picture of his parents was hung nearby in tribute; he told you they would’ve wanted to see him get married but that he felt, in some way, they were able to even if they had passed away quite some time ago.

You realized you’d never seen him in anything even mildly formal before; in fact, the suit he wore was rather casual, all things considered, but he looked so painfully cute in it. Sometimes you thought he actually looked a bit out of place wearing a shirt, though, especially one that was buttoned up all the way.

Luckily, the shirt was halfway unbuttoned about ten minutes into the reception.

Mrs. Alberti cooked a massive dinner for everyone, and even grew the flowers that you carried down the cobblestone aisle.

And wow, can Romanians drink. You had to be careful not to try to keep up with them, because if you had you would’ve been blacked out halfway into the night and the last thing you wanted was to forget even a moment of this.

As the night started to wind down to a close, you and your new husband retired to the lakehouse, running up the stairs and finding them as creaky as always.

He wrapped his arms around you in the hall and kissed you eagerly as you stumbled back into the bedroom, tripping over the doorway and falling onto the bed together.

It felt so right to have his weight on top of you, to feel his smile against your lips, to wrap your arms around his neck.

“This room,” he mumbled into the kiss. “Do you remember first time?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “da, I remember, how could I forget?”

He grinned and moved his lips down to your neck. "I thought of you every day… I love you,” he whispered.

“Te iubesc,” you whispered back.

It was almost like the first time in so many ways: passionate, yet oddly hesitant as you rediscovered each other. It was comfortable, though… you couldn’t think of any other person you felt so comfortable with, somebody who finally got you out of your own head and who made you want to experience everything life had to offer.

You were sure you’d never gone so long without worrying about something in all your life.

“My wife,” he whispered against your skin. “This is all I had wanted… from seeing you in very beginning.”

“You’re all I ever wanted,” you sighed in return, “ești tot ce mi-am dorit vreodată, Sebastian.”

Life with Sebastian was beautifully simple. You spent most of the day writing, usually, while he built furniture to sell and occasionally gardened with his spare time. You could always tell how busy you’d been with a new novel lately by how perfectly groomed the hydrangea bushes were.

You’d told him once that you’d come to Hungary looking for a million-dollar book idea. A Killer in Disguise performed alright, but not anywhere near that. The Language of Love, on the other hand, was definitely a million-dollar idea… about eleven times over. Sebastian didn’t seem to worry too much about how much money you made, though; he was just proud to say that he was the inspiration for your hit novel. You secretly suspected that he was more proud of your work reaching enough international notoriety to be translated into Romanian.

His English still needed some work, but you found it endearing. He was determined to get better and spent at least a half-hour each day practicing, but you hoped he wouldn’t get too perfect because you would miss the silly little mistakes he made. At least you could be sure he’d keep the accent forever… damn, that accent; and he knew exactly what it did to you, too.

In fact, you were crossing through the hall in your robe one evening when your husband’s voice stopped you.

“Darling wife,” you heard Sebastian call from the bedroom in a playful sing-song.

“What is it, Seba?” you asked with a smirk.

“Come in here, please…”

You opened the bedroom door to find most of the room covered in rose petals: most of all the bed, which was surrounded by candles, and topped with a shirtless (as per usual) Sebastian, laid on his side seductively with a long-stemmed rose (one you recognized from his very own garden) between his teeth.

“What are you doing?” you laughed. “Is this some sort of special occasion I’ve forgotten?”

You were already searching your mind for what it could be, but your two-year anniversary had passed a few months ago already and since it was spring it couldn’t be the anniversary of when you first met since that was late in the summer.

“Iss not quite a thpecial occathion yeth,” he answered before taking the rose from his mouth so he actually made sense. “I was considering it could be a special occasion, when we’re done…”

You smirked and climbed over the candles and into bed with him, taking the opportunity to run your hands over his chest. “And what occasion would that be?”

“A year from now, it could be the anniversary of when our child was conceived,” he answered.

Your breath caught in your throat, your voice reduced to a whisper of surprise. “Seba—”

“If you’re not ready, I will be understand,” he instantly added, stern yet soft. “Only if you want this, I just thought that maybe—”

You silenced him with a kiss, lacing your fingers into his hair and letting him roll you onto your back. He pulled back just enough to let you answer, but your noses were still bumping into each other and you smiled.

“I’m ready, Sebastian. More than ready,” you whispered.

He grinned and kissed you again, deeper and slower as he held your face with one hand and gripped your waist with the other. As his lips trailed down to your neck, you were interrupted with one pressing thought.

“Can I ask you something?”

He popped up and looked down at you with a smile. “Sure!”

“Why are you wearing ratty old jeans?” you laughed.

“Hey, these worked on you the first time,” he defended.

You gasped. “You don’t mean those are the jeans—”

“Yes,” he nodded, “the jeans that I had been wearing when I was working on Mrs. Alberti’s cottage. And, truly, when I was finding an excuse to work outside your window.”

“Wait,” you sat up, “did you actually work outside my window on purpose?”

He laughed, hanging his head quickly before looking back at you again with a sparkle in his eye. “You are very smart, my love, except for those times when you are— how do you say? Oblivious.”

You chuckled, unfortunately very aware that he was right.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why I was building a window frame, nearly a dozen metres away from the window it was for?”

You thought for a moment before dropping your face into your hands and laughing. “No, I didn’t notice that. I was too busy giving you a thorough eye-fuck,” you recalled.

“Yes, because I was not wearing a shirt and this distracted you,” he pondered, sounding suddenly like a scientist explaining a theorem or something. “See, that’s the beauty of wearing the jeans and no shirt. The body distracts you while the jeans seduce you.”

“How about you take the jeans off and put that body on me, capisce?” you pleaded; not that you didn’t love his humor or anything, but maybe his funny bone wasn’t exactly the bone you were interested in at the moment.

He grinned devilishly and suddenly pulled your legs apart, settling his body between them as he kissed your neck again, nipping at your jawline and ear. “You’re being impatient, dragă,” he purred. “You want to have my baby that badly?”

You whined involuntarily, arching your back as his hands roamed your body and finally began to untie your robe and push the silk out of the way. “Yes, Sebastian, please—”

“Let’s just say, theoretically, I wanted to have more than one? Would you have another of my children?” he asked softly as he reached up and palmed at your breasts, teasing your nipples which were already much too hard and sensitive for how little he’d touched you. The rough denim rubbing against the inside of your thighs was oddly arousing— maybe it was the sensation itself, or maybe it was just that this was almost like the first thing you imagined when you saw Sebastian all those years ago.

“Yes,” you moaned out your answer, “yes, you know I’d do anything for you.”

“What if I wanted a big family?” he pressed. “Really big? Like, Catholic big?”

“We can have our own fuckin’ Brady Bunch, Seb, I just need you right now,” you begged, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a hot and desperate kiss.

He decided to wait until afterwards to ask what a ‘Brady Bunch’ was. You decided to wait until afterwards to ask when he’d learned how to use the word ‘theoretically’.

sfarsit; the end

[reluctant-mandalore]

Dar’manda (Din Djarin x Reader)

After getting the information needed to find the child, you notice that your Mandalorian has been acting strange since his return. Confronting him leads to him telling you just exactly what has been bothering him since that fateful mission. 

Warnings: MANDO SEASON TWO SPOILERS, angst, but also fluff, hurt/comfrot, established relationship, cuddling, mentions of the creed/mandalorian lore I found, Not beta read 

Word Count: 2,231

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader (gender neutral) 

a/n: hey y’all here’s that fluffy angst I mentioned earlier. This episode really inspired me to dive a little deeper into mando lore and to visualize how din may be handling the afterthought of removing his helmet (he’s not doing well but better then expected tbh lol). Not sure if the lore I was reading about actually applies to din but its here now and y’all have no choice. Also, I didn’t get this beta read because I wanted to get this out tonight and my beta readers are sleeping... or at least, THEY SHOULD BE. I adore you but go to bed my friends pls sdhbfhbjsdjh. Anywhooo enjoy! 

Note: There was a few variations of what dar’manda meant to the Mandalorians but I decided to go with the more frequent one I saw which was “a state of not being Mandalorian - not an outsider, but one who has lost his heritage, and so his identity and his soul - regarded with absolute dread by most traditionall-minded Mando'ade.”

The plan had seemed to go over well—almost too well. The Mandalorian and Mayfield had gotten the desired information on Moff Gideon and the child’s location, returning as if it was the easiest job they had ever done. You had ended up watching Din closely since his return, and the longer you had observed him, the more you had begun to notice that something was clearly upsetting the beskar covered man. 

Din had been acting strange ever since he had returned. He was less alert than usual and almost seemed to be lost in a daze as he wandered about the ship. His stray wandering had only ceased when he had taken over piloting for Fett, slumping down into the chair like there was a heavy weight blanketing his shoulders. Soon busying himself by fiddling with the control panel as a way to distract himself from whatever was on his mind. 

The Mandalorian’s message to Moff Gideon was probably the most normal you had seen him be all day—his voice fierce and words deadly when recording his threat to the Imperial Officer. Although, even that had held a bite to it you had never heard from him. His desperation and anger fusing into one as he spoke those final words. 

He means more to me than you will ever know.

 Those words from the Mandalorian still echoed in your mind as you crept your way up to the cockpit that he remained in. While everyone else had made their way to bed for the night he hadn’t even budged from his spot in the pilot's chair. Not wanting to wake anyone, you had entered the room quietly, closing the hatch behind you before moving to stand next to the man  still occupying the space. 

Din had barely reacted to your added presence in the room, a twitch of his head being the only acknowledgement you recieved. Seeing him in such a state had instantly made you frown, and you felt your heart aching with sadness at the sight of the tormented man you loved. 

“Din I know something is bothering you.” You had said softly to him, placing a gentle hand onto the Mandalorian’s shoulder, “What’s wrong?”

Feeling your hand had finally pulled him from his trance and he glanced up towards you almost sluggishly. Although, he had only looked up at you briefly before he found himself looking away again, focusing his gaze onto the control panel in front of him. 

“Nothings wrong.” 

“You’ve been acting strange since you got back.” You had said, worry evident in your features as you moved to turn his chair to face you properly, “You don’t have to lie to me Din. I know you and I know something is wrong.”

“Cyar'ika...” 

“You know you can talk to me—you don’t have to bottle things up like this anymore.” You continued, “Please Din, tell me what's going on, I can’t bare to see you like this anymore.”

Din looked at you for another long second, the need to tell you what was bothering him on the tip of his tongue as the two of you locked gazes. In truth he wanted to tell you everything. He desperately wanted to seek comfort in your arms as he always did when like this, but at the same time, he was also deathly afraid of how you would react to the news. He had already lost the child, he couldn’t handle losing you as well. 

He had let out a deep sigh, his heart thundering loudly, as he sat up more in the seat so he could face you better. A sharp intake of breath was his only indicating of speaking before it had cut out again into silence. He had shifted his gaze from you over to the door which separated you both from the sleeping quarters where the others slept. His unasked question being obvious in his actions even without him having to say anything.

 Seeing his unease, you had smiled softly in reassurance, placing a hand on his metal cheek to bring his attention back to your own. “They’re all sleeping, it’s just us awake.” 

“Are you sure?” 

You had nodded in reply taking his gloved hands into yours to press a calming kiss along his knuckles, “Yes I checked. It’s just us… You don’t have to worry about them hearing. I promise.” 

A long silence had stretched out after your words while you patiently waited for the man to speak. He had shifted awkwardly again in his seat as you did, his fingers gripping your own as he found himself looking away again. He could feel the salty pools beginning to form at the corner of his eyes, and he bit his lip underneath the helmet while trying to force himself to confess what was on his mind. 

Din Djarin had always been a man of few words, and for many years had locked away his emotions to keep them hidden from prying eyes. It had only been recently in your relationship with him when he finally began opening up, allowing for you to see a side to him he reserved only for himself and the child. His tough bounty hunter walls chipping away easily the more the two of you fell in love with one another. 

Even with this progress, you knew it was still hard for him to speak about these kinds of things. Din still found himself choked up when it came to talking about how he felt and he still found himself at a loss for words when trying to explain his thoughts. 

 While waiting for him to speak you had found yourself caressing each of his knuckles with its own kiss. You had hoped that by doing so it would calm away some of his growing nerves and bring him some comfort away from whatever had been bothering him. 

“I-I… I took it off.” His voice had cracked as he finally spoke, breaking the silence, as a few of the tears he had tried so desperately to hold back now fell, “I took it off.” 

“Took what off?”

Din had let out a quiet breath, the words leaving him in a whisper, barely audible in the small space. 

The Helmet. 

Instantly you had felt your heart freeze over at the realization of what had happened, one of your hands coming up to your mouth as you gasped. “Oh Din…”

After your initial shock had passed, your arms had wrapped around him, enclosing him into your hold as you pulled him tightly into your chest. The man had instantly found himself melting into your hug, his own arms now wrapping around you as he gripped the back of your shirt tightly. He had begun shaking as he silently cried into your embrace, all the emotions and nerves he had felt from earlier now overflowing. 

“I did it for the child.” He said in between shaky breaths, pulling back to look up at you, “I had to. I-I…”

You shushed him, rubbing your hand along his spine as you tried to soothe his tears away, “It’s ok Din, you don’t need to explain.” 

“But it’s not ok…” He trailed off, “My creed. I broke it, but even worse... I don’t regret it. I’m not ashamed—even though I should be. ” 

“Din…”

“I’m not ashamed because I did it for him.” He had said his voice steadying the more he spoke, “I did it for Grogu, my foundling and son. Our son… I did it for our son because I love him and the little clan we have  built together. I love our family more than anything—that’s why I did it.”

Tears had formed at the corner of your own eyes at his words, and you pressed your forehead against his as they started to fall. He had allowed himself to rest against you for a moment, the coolness of the beskar from the helmet sending a chill over your skin. His eyes had closed when he had, his heart thundering from the gesture and brief relief flowing over him at the knowledge of you not being upset with him in the slightest. 

“I didn’t care if taking off the helmet meant that I wasn’t a Mandalorian anymore, I just wanted to get our son back.” He said pulling back to lock his gaze with yours once more, “The pain of losing him was greater than that of breaking my creed.” 

“Din you sacrificing everything for your foundling, your son, is probably the most Mandalorian thing you have ever done.” You had smiled at him with the salty trails still lingering on your cheeks, “Whether you wear a helmet or not, you’re a true Mandalorian at the end of the day.”  

“The others may not see it the same way.” He said softly with a hum, allowing for his thumb to brush away some of your stray tears, “I still took off the helmet. The reason why may not matter to them, as in the end I may just be another dar’manda among many.”

Din’s mention of dar’manda had made you frown and caused for your heart to quiver in unbelievable sadness. The memory of him explaining the meaning of the phrase to you in a once passing conversation now flooding back, as you found yourself one the verge of tears again. 

A dar’manda to the Mandalorian was one of their own who had lost their way, believing to have turned to a state of not being a Mandalorian at all. Although not considered an outside, a dar’manda was someone who had lost their heritage, identity and even soul. Many traditional Mandalorians treated the whole concept of a dar’manda with absolute dread—making it the worst fear for many Mandalorian. 

“Din I… I’m so sorry. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what you must be feeling from all of this.” 

“Honestly? I don’t know how to feel.” He confessed, toying with your fingers as he rambled, “To become a dar'manda was once my worst fear in life. Being a Mandalorian meant everything to me, but now it doesn’t seem so bad. I mean… I’d become a dar’manda in a heartbeat if it meant saving Grogu—though I guess I may have already done that.” 

A hum left you as you listened to him speak, your own hand lingering along the lining of his chestplate. Another silence had fallen over the two of you as you stood there looking down at him. Unsure of what to say at the moment, you had instead chosen to just affectionately trail your fingers along his body, feeling it relax more under your touch. 

“What do I do now?” He had suddenly asked absentmindedly, “Is there anything I even can do in this situation?”

“I don’t really know what to tell you Din.” You had sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of his helmet as you spoke, “But whatever you decide to do I’ll be right here. I’ll go anywhere in the Galaxy with you, no matter what happens or what you choose—Mandalorian or not.” 

An unseen smile had spread across his lips at your words as he buried himself into your arms again, “Cyar'ika... ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

“I love you too Din.” You replied, smiling as you pulled him tightly into your embrace again.

Din had settled himself back into your arms, a content sigh leaving him when had cuddled himself up to your warmth. Being so snug in your embrace had caused for a wave of tiredness to wash over him, his mind and body now beginning to feel the full weight of everything that had happened recently. 

Beginning to pull back at hearing him yawn, and looking down at the man still entangled in your arms, you had smiled softly, “We should probably head to bed-”

Din’s grip had suddenly tightened on your retreating arms, stopping you in your movement and cutting off your suggestion as he did. He had then moved himself to hug his own arms around your waist, keeping you in place as he nuzzled himself into your chest. Your brow had furrowed in confusion as you watched him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder again while he effectively trapped you in his hold.  

“Not yet…” He had whispered, his voice laced with sleep while his words slurred together, “Just let me stay like this a little longer… please?”

A smile spread across your lips at his words, and with a small nod you had pulled him back deeper into your arms. His head easily cradling itself into the dip of your neck as he allowed for a tired sigh to leave him again. Along his back your fingers ran soothing patterns on its surface, drawing out any of his remaining nerves that may have still remained from earlier. Now relaxing completely in your arms, his worries and fears had drifted away, as he listened to the steady thump of your heartbeat. 

The Mandalorian would remain in your arms long into the night, never leaving your grasp while you lounged together in the darkened space. Eventually you would return to your own cots, but for the time being you just enjoyed each other's comforting presence. The only thoughts occupying your minds being that of your love for one another, and the son you both knew you would do anything to save.

---​