#if these don’t sync correctly i will cry
Text
labyrinth - taylor swift
#now convinced labyrinth is about one harry styles#it is not but this is what’s in my head every time i listen to it#if these don’t sync correctly i will cry#labryrinth#taylor swift#midnights#blue#paper airplane#tswiftedit#*mine#*gifs#*art#taylor swift midnights#tscreators#tscreatorsnet#networkthirteen#taylornation#taylurking#tsnation#candy swift#userblues
683 notes
·
View notes
Note
Okay one more I swear 🚶♀️
It’s been established that the egos like Illinois, Dark, Wilford, Jackie, etc are usually the ones that give their declarations of love, whether it be privately or to everyone around them. Now how about we switch it around and think about the first time their S/O’s express just how much the other means to them?
They’re laying in bed, their S/O leaning their head on their shoulder while the sounds of a movie fills the silence that otherwise would’ve been in their room. Some time has gone by since the S/O has said anything, and they know that this is their favorite movie so they would’ve expected them to be commenting on something new that caught their eye or speaking in sync with some of the dialogue. They reach for the remote in their lap and lower the volume, their gaze falling down to the S/O who has now snapped out of their trance from the movement. They other asks if they’re okay, and the S/O nods.
“I’ve just been thinking about something,” the S/O says, taking the other’s hand in their own and intertwining their fingers. They fit like a puzzle piece — perfectly made for each other. Before the other can speak, the S/O starts talking.
“I’ve . . . I never really believed that there would be anyone out in the world for me, you know? I had accepted that, as depressing as it sounds,” they pause, gathering their words correctly. “I had the whole thing planned out and everything. Where I’d— I’d spend the rest of my days . . . alone.”
“But then— you know, you came and ruined all of that, huh?” The S/O joked, smiling at the oncoming memories, “in the best way possible, of course.”
“You’re . . . You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met. Ever. You’re so kind and caring and protective of me. I don’t even deserve any of the things you do for me, but you still do them. ‘Cause you’re— you’re just a good person.”
The S/O brings their intertwined hands up to their lips and plants a kiss on the other’s hand, smiling against their skin and lowering it afterwards.
“Now, I wanna make a new plan; a new plan for the future. But I want you to be in it. Every day. I keep thanking the universe every day for letting me wake up with you every morning, and see sides of you that not everyone gets to see,” the S/O looks up at them and they’ve got to us smile on their face that makes the other’s breath catch. “I really do love you. More than anything. I don’t know what I would be without you.”
They’re staring down at their S/O, eyes shining with adoration and complete devotion for them, because they know it’s true when they think, “I’d do anything for you” “You’re the best thing about me”. They’re eyes glass through with a moist feeling, returning the same smile that the absolute love of their life is giving them right at this moment. They lean down and kiss them, holding their face gently in their hands and internally promising that they’ll never let go of them.
They ruined their plans, but now they can make new ones together.
— 🦋
AAAHHHH
THAT'S TOO PRECIOUS!
IM CRYING FROM THE CUTE
AAAAAAHHHHH
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
To play a game
Pairing: dom!Tom Holland x reader
Word Count: 1.8K+
Warning: dom-sub dynamics, dirty talking, cum in panties, exhibitionism, semi-public play, vaginal sex
Summary: You are attending at an event with Tom and the both of you likes to play dirty, so you ditch your panties for the night.
A/N: So,it was inspired by a conversation veeery long ago with @we--are---not--afraid also it kind of clashes with this ask: (P.S please at least say hi, next time because I’m not writing on demand)
The event was loud and as overwhelming as ever no matter how many times you did it. The red carpet walks, the interviews, the photos, it got easier over time but never less draining. The only thing what kept you on the edge was one specific man and the hurried promise he made before you got out of the car.
‘I bet you are not bold enough do this event without your panties.’ Tom purred into your ear, his eyes and words challenging you.
This is how it happened, your hands sliding under the dress which reached around your knees to find your panties and push it into Tom’s pocket. ‘And I bet you can’t walk around with my panties in your pocket without someone noticing.’ Your little head tilt and innocent eyes earned a groan and a dangerous glint in those brown eyes, but he didn’t say a thing.
It has been an hour now at least and you felt yourself growing wet as the cool air brushed against your pussy. You knew your dress was long enough to cover you by any means, but it didn’t help your feeling of being exposed and absolutely aroused by doing all this small talk and posing while not wearing your underwear, let alone having them in Tom’s pocket. It was a dirty little secret for the two of you, which riled you up more and more by every minute.
The first time you could finally talk to him again was before the dinner when he stepped to you, his fingers lightly touching your shoulder.
‘Do you have a minute for me, darling?’
With an apologetic smile you excused yourself from the group and started to follow him through the crowded room to an empty, dark hallway, curtains hanging from each side, giving you just enough cover for now. His fingers were interlocking with yours during the walk, only letting them go when he pushed you to the wall, getting tangled in a curtain a little.
‘How are you doing lovie?’ His words were hushed, lips finding yours before you could have answered in a hungry kiss.
‘Better than you, I'd say.’ The devilish smile on your lips and the way he gave himself away so easily earned you another groan before he was back kissing you silly. It was hot and heavy with need, need building from the moment you got out of the car a few hours ago. His hard on was painfully obvious as he stepped a bit closer, his full body pressed to yours now. Sure, it explains why at least one of his hands were in his pocket. Those tight, slim pants didn’t hide his erection very well.
Between the heated sloppy kisses, Tom’s long fingers slipped under your dress. ‘Do you know how it felt watching you flirting with everyone and knowing you little pussy is bare under your pretty dress?’
It was a rhetorical question, but he didn't give you time to answer anyway, his lips were on yours, kissing you in a way it made your head spin, your small whimpers lost in his mouth. ‘Lovie, you soaked even your thighs.’ Tom cooed, when his fingers run up on your skin, to find you completely roused and wet. The sound you made then his touch, even if it was light as a feather hit your exposed pussy lips was almost feral. ‘You know, originally I wanted to finger you here and go back to fuck you later, but I don’t think I can wait for so long.’ His mumbles along with his ministrations were too much to let you form any more coherent thoughts. ‘I think there is a storage room across the hall, what do you think?’ His question was sweet as honey in sync with the way he was petting your pussy, coating his fingers in your slick, pressing into you a digit only when he touched your gaping entrance.
‘Yes.’ As embarrassing as it was this was the first and only word which come to your mind, to Tom’s amusement. He loved it, loved to make you so flustered and worked up you practically forgot how to form words and there were nothing left but those sweet noises only for him.
It felt like it wasn’t even a minute later when the door of the small room clicked behind you. Tom was immediately all over you, his hands trying to feel as much skin as you could, being desperate to finally have you. ‘Turn around, lovie.’
You did with a bit of a help, hands pressed to the hard, steel shelves, but you didn’t care. There was a bit of a pause while Tom undid his pants, a bit of a shuffling until he pushed them down till his knees, to pull himself free from his boxers. Lifting your dress with one hand and aligning his hot cock head with your entrance with the other shouldn’t have been this hot in this situation, but you couldn’t help it.
‘Tom?’ Your voice was weak and impatient, when you didn’t feel the immediate fullness, you were expecting but only the delicious stretch at your entrance. He stopped.
‘Ask for it, darling. You made me walk around with a hard cock all night, this is the least you could do to make it fair.’
The frustrated moan didn’t help, nor the almost inaudible please. ‘You know you can act like a little brat, and I could always just jerk off like this and leave you frustrated, so you better think about your next words carefully.’ With his words a sharp slap cut through the silence of the small space followed with your whimper when he slapped your ass a bit roughly.
‘Tom, please.’ You tried, but already knew it won’t cut it. He tsked with his tongue, which didn’t mean any good for you, mostly when you felt his hand slowly moving starting to gently stroke his own cock.
‘Last chance, baby girl.’ He warned and gave you another slap, his hand not speeding up yet.
The last nick name seemed to wash away all of your remaining resistance, getting the obedient little sub out of you.
‘Please, fuck me.’ Your words were so fast it was a miracle he heard them correctly.
‘What is it?’ Tom teased, leaning closer to your seemingly to hear better, pushing his thick cock half-way in during the process.
‘Please fuck me, please I need your cock!’ The words fumbled over your lips like prayer now, a shudder running down on your spine making you twitch around his cock.
‘Look at you. You must be so desperate.’ Along with the soft, slow purr he finally pushed into you fully inch by inch. The mewl you made was primal, finally feeling the fullness and weight of his cock inside of you.
‘Open up!’ It threw you off for a minute, but there was no time to think about it when he tapped on your lip, and something lace like touched them too. Tom stuffed your panties into your mouth without hesitation.
Your eyes rolled back, any of your previous resistance thrown out of the window, melting into Tom’s touch, as he fucked into you. He didn’t start slow, knowing your body enough by now, to be sure you could take it. He did slow down tho after a few minutes, to pull you closer, to pepper sweet kisses onto your neck, to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. ‘Such a good girl for me.’ Tom cooed and bit your earlobe, before letting you go and starting to thrust hard and fast again.
With your sounds muffled by your panties, lips and jaw stretching around them, eyes shut as you got lost in your pleasure, until you felt your high approaching. Your fingers left the selves which were warm under your palms now, to tap in his wrist twice.
‘Oh, baby girl, look how good you can be. Are you there? Are you asking for my permission?’ His words were surprisingly coherent compared to the state he was. You felt his thrust becoming sloppy, his grip on your body tightening, his pants and moans becoming more breathy, he was also close.
The answer for his question was a frantic nodding and a desperate cry trying to hold it.
‘Good girl. You can come on my command when I hit zero.’ With that Tom started to count down from ten, making it almost the longest ten seconds of your life because he didn’t slow down, he was taking you with the same strength and speed as before, making it especially hard for you to hold back your orgasm. Now you were grateful for the small ruined piece of fabric in your mouth to hold back your desperate cries, moans and whimpers, because you were on the edge, your whole body shaking during those ten seconds.
‘One, almost there.’ Tom’s voice was equally breathless and wretched. ‘Zero. Come baby girl, come on my cock. Come on.’
To the permission and encouragement, you started coming immediately without even fully registering it. It took a few seconds to really reach your peak. Your mouth opened to a silent O while your body shook and convulsed under the force of your orgasm. The small, wet hole tightening around Tom and the unmistakable signs of your orgasm pushed him over too, his cock twitching and oozing his thick, warm cum into you.
When it was over, he pulled out carefully, being aware of just how sensitive he made you. The small kisses on your shoulders sending shudders down on your arms, your eyes still closed, enjoying his closeness. He took your panties out of your mouth reaching down to use them to clean your thighs a little.
‘Did you enjoy it?’ He asked, his lips finally finding yours for a soft, loving kiss. ‘This is what you had in mind?’
‘Yeah, yeah thank you.’
‘Good, because otherwise you would be so punished at home for sticking this into my pocket. I was so fucking hard all night, darling.’ Tom softly schooled you while he turned you around trying to re arrange the both of you to a presentable state.
‘I know and it got me so wet.’ Your tired giggle was an obvious sign of your satisfied state.
‘Yeah?’ Tom looked at you with amusement. ‘Good, because you will wear a fresh pair now, right? And I know I’ll get hard again eventually, because you are running around with my cum in your pussy eventually dripping out of you and leaving a visible wet patch on your panties with all these very important people around us.’ As he talked you pulled out that fresh pair from your purse, he helped you to put it on, his fingers pressing the material to your entrance firmly. ‘Let’s go and enjoy the party while my hands are out of my pocket.’
Tag list: @terrifictomholland @itstaskeen @thegirlintheswivelchair @duskholland @sinisterspidey @tomsrebeleyebrow @annathesillyfriend @hazofmyheart @greenorangevioletgrass @worldoftom @augustholland @m-multifandom-multishipper
If you want to be or not to be tagged please let me know!
#tom holland#tom holland smut#Tom Holland x reader#dom!tom holland#tom holland reader insert#tom holland fanfiction#smutty smut smut
657 notes
·
View notes
Text
All of this is so painfully accurate. She went and said the quiet part out loud.
[Image description: a series of screenshots of a public Facebook text post by Evey Winters which reads: I wish cis folks were able to feel and understand that we trans folks are on very different timelines.
My trans timeline and your ability to comprehend my trans timeline are NOT in sync and that changes our perspectives.
This might make you uncomfortable, but you need to hear it.
Every single day before we came out, we prioritized you. You were our partners, friends, family, or whatever. We put you first. Every single day is a sacrifice we made for you, for your expectations and assumptions. We were willing to live and die in a lie because you were that important to us or central in our lives.
I work with SO many closeted trans people. Do you know how many times the people close to them are their reason for not coming out? I would say that’s a factor in literally 100% of the adult closeted trans people I work with where family is still in the picture. Uncertainty about your reactions, fear about upsetting you, and more lead them to trying desperately to stay in the closet FOR YOU. To keep YOU. Because they love YOU. That goes on for months, years, decades.
To you, when we come out, this is new information. Even when you’re supportive, it’s new. And from your perspective, correctly, you’re being asked to reconcile and change things in ways you’ve never had to change before very quickly. I get it, that seems like a tall order. It must feel like you’ve had a pop quiz placed on you with rules you don’t understand and background you never had. That’s scary. You don’t wanna mess up. And that’s the relatively mild version.
In many or most cases right now, by the time someone comes out to you they’re exhausted. They’re coming out because they’re out of options. This is the Hail Mary play. Coming out as trans is so difficult, so scary, that it’s the LAST thing we try after exhausting every available opportunity to not do that.
I wish you knew how genuinely soul crushing it is to come out to you and say “this is me. Please see me. I need your help,” only to be told “well this is hard for me, too.”
It’s not that you’re being dishonest, it’s that we’re running on fumes by the time this happens. We are out of time to be patient and calm and rational in our responses to mistakes.
I spent 30 years of my life cannibalizing my soul for the strength to make it through a day of not knowing my real name, being too afraid to slip or let you see who I was, and being unsure if our relationship would survive you knowing who I am. When I came out, there was nothing left to give. I was ready to be done living. That’s where I was at.
Do you know what it feels like to give that cry for support, help, and acceptance to your loved ones and to have any of them say “when I get to it, then I’ll make this a priority.”
We sacrificed our lives for you. We can’t get back those days we burnt at the altar of our relationship with you. And most of the time, we don’t tell you even when we come out. We don’t tell you what we endured for you. We say it was bad, sure. But what we aren’t saying is this part because we love you and we just want your acceptance, not your guilt.
You aren’t obligated to do any certain kind of response, but you may have noticed that trans people seem very reactive to small slip ups from family and friends. Why?
Because we weren’t allowed to slip up. We had to be on every day, 24/7, living by the names and ideas enforced on us. We’re so desperate by this point half the time that we don’t have the second and third chances to give you. We’ve been giving them to you for years.
And the thing is that you’re actually right, changing habits on a dime is HARD work. I’ll give that to you. The pragmatic side of me knows that most people can only alter these habits so much so quickly. That doesn’t change our timeline or the weight of what we’ve carried.
When we come out to you, we need you to make an effort to understand where you can take the weight off of us and what we need. I hope you can feel the weight of every sacrificed day we gave you — not to hurt you but to strengthen your resolve not to collect any more of our days.
This may feel like I’m handing you guilt. I’m not. I’m handing you context and *deeply* uncomfortable understanding so that you can set your priorities better.
The longer we were in the closet, the more urgent it is when we come out. Please treat that with the proper gravity and focus on healing your relationship to the trans people in your lives. Make it clear, unambiguously and preemptively, that you will support trans people in your family and friends so they can come out sooner. Be a guide and a help and let that process of unearthing the real person in your life teach you to see and love them.
----
Personal Addendum:
I’ve never talked about this so bluntly, but I’m going to now because I have the words.
I felt little better than a pet, pre-transition.
I responded to a name that told me every day your view of me mattered more than anything about me. I felt like a trained animal being made to fill the slot you built in your life for your son, boyfriend, or whatever. I was allowed to be me on private time, the rest of the time I served you and your expectations.
Every time I hear my deadname or false pronouns from the lips of someone I care about, it twists my stomach because what I hear is someone I care about taking ownership of me and calling me, like a dog. It’s a trigger. The closer you are, the more I feel it.
That’s what it sounds like, to be broken down and built to serve those expectations. That’s how it feels to have one night gown tucked away in a hole in your mattress that you pull out occasionally and say, “someday,” to yourself with a sigh of resignation and to cry yourself to sleep with it in your arms because you worry that allowing yourself the slightest hint of freedom will make your life unbearable the rest of the time.
When I felt happiness or euphoria in anything, it made me sick because I knew I couldn’t keep having it. Happiness was a cruel taunt, a luxury others got to enjoy.
You know all those pictures you have of me? The memories? The childhood stories? Those things you treasure and hold so deeply and that you grieve or tell me how to process? That’s how I was feeling when you got those. I sacrificed so you could have those, thinking if I could just please you enough that maybe I could buy your true acceptance.
In the face of that, is simply referring to me properly really, truly so small a priority that you’d tell me to wait until you were ready? How many more days will you ask me to sacrifice?
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
Let Me Love You.
pairing: chris evans x reader
summary: you haven't been yourself lately and chris just want's to help.
⚠️warnings: smut, d/s undertones, unprotected sex
word count: 1.2k
“Honey,” Chris hums into your ear, arms wrapped around your waist.
“Yes,” you huff rubbing in what remained of your moisturizer. You were stood in front of your bathroom mirror finishing off your nightly routine, in nothing but one of Chris's t-shirts, Chris’s eyes watching you from the doorframe. He couldn’t help but admire you in your natural when Chris finally decided to say what’s been on his mind all day. You hadn’t been yourself lately, too stressed about something, your mind constantly somewhere else far away from him, and he couldn't take it any longer.
“You’re stressed.” he states planting a kiss on your shoulder, “why don’t you let me help you relax.”
“I’m fine, baby.”
Chris always prided himself on how well he knew you. How easily he could read you, he had everything about you memorized. From the way you made your coffee, if you were in the mood for that over tea, to the way that you __. He knew everything from when you were stressed to when you were tired. And He knew how to remedy it all.
“No, you’re not. And I know that you’re not because -”
You turn around in his hold, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, giving him a quick kiss, “Because you know me better than anyone.” you quote playfully rolling your eyes.
“Yeah,” He chuckles along with you, “and because I know you, I know when you’re stressed out. So tell me, what can I do?” he asks sincerely.
“Nothing.” you say giving him a small smile, and patting his cheek, “I’ll be fine.” you leaned forward landing your lips on his in a kiss.
“You sure?” he mumbles into the kiss, lips still attached to yours.
“Positive.” Chris comes in for another kiss, which turns into more, as he grips at your hips, “I think I know something that will take your mind off of whatever it is that’s bothering you.” he says lowly, hands roaming down to your ass, squeezing lightly.
“Yeah?” you smirk
“Mhmm, I do.” he says resting his forehead on yours, “I just want to make you come baby.” he whispers against your lips, and you can’t help the little whimper that leaves your lips, “Can I do that?”
His words sent butterflies to your stomach, and you could feel the pool starting between your legs, “Yes.” you nearly moan out pulling him closer to you, “yes, please.” You lunge forward crashing your lips to his, and they fit so perfectly, moving in sync. Your hands roam down to the waistband of his sweat pants but he stops you, his massive hands wrapping around your wrists.
“Not here.” he pants into your mouth pulling away from your kiss, “Come here.”
He extends a hand out to you which you gladly take. He leans down, kissing the back of your hand quickly before flashing you a smirk. He turns, making his way towards your bedroom, pulling you behind him.
When you two reach the bed, he teasingly turns around picking you up and tossing you down on the bed making you let out a little giggle. He climbs in the bed after you, crawling up the bed, and planting kisses up your body from your shin to your neck, and finally to your lips. Your lips meld together in a searing kiss that had your head spinning. He snakes his hand down between the two of you rubbing his hand over your core, covered in nothing but the thin material of your panties. His skilled fingers draw figure eights over your clit, making you moan out.
“Chris.” you whimper rolling your hips up into his fingers chasing the friction.
“Okay, okay. I won’t tease, I promise.” He coos, planting a soft kiss to the corner of your lips. Just then he pushes the thin barrier of your panties to the side and begins slowly rubbing circles to your clit and you can’t help the deep moan that escapes your lips. His fingers tease at your entrance, gathering the wetness there and rubbing it up and down your folds.
“You’re so wet, babe. Barley did anything,” he smirks down at you, and you give him a little pout, desperate for him to do more, than what he was giving you, “you’re always so ready for me, fuck.” he says almost more to himself than to you.
Just when you were about to complain, just when you were about to beg for more, he slowly plunges a finger inside. You grip at his shoulder, letting out a deep moan at the feeling of fullness, even with one finger it felt amazing. But still, you wanted more, needed more.
“Chris-” you moan out
“Yes?” he asks, halting his assault to your neck.
“I need more,” you whine. As much as Chris wants to tease you, to make it last as long as he can for you, he made a promise, and he’s never on to break a promise, especially to you. So he plunges a second finger into you curling it just right to hit that spot deep inside you that had your eyes rolling back.
Chris was so skilled with his fingers he knew exactly what to do to drive you wild. He pumped his fingers in and out of you nice and slow, with his thumb circling the little bundle of nerves, drawing out all kinds of moans and groans from you.
“That feel good, baby?” he asks. You can’t even speak, too enthralled with what his fingers were doing, that all you could do was nod frantically.
“Tell me you want my cock,” he growls in your ear.
“I want it. I need it.”
“That’s not how we ask for things, now is it?” He teases, his fingers hooking up, hitting a different spot.
“Fuck - no,” you whine.
“Then ask me correctly.”
“Can I please have your cock?” you plead, your grip on his shoulders tightening as his fingers continued to work their magic.
“Good girl,” he praises, “yes you may.” He unsheaths his fingers from your core, licking them clean before fumbling with the waistband of his boxers, pushing them down his legs allowing his cock to spring free.
He takes himself in his hand pumping a few times before running it through your wet folds, up and down collecting the wetness.
“Fuck.” groans out, tapping the head of his cock on your clit. You let out a little whine biting your lip and rolling your hips up, hoping he’d catch the hint.
“Please,” you beg, and just like that he gives you exactly what you want, entering you in one motion, bottoming out. He crashes his lips to yours, swallowing your moans.
“Fuck, you feel so good, baby.” He moans out, resting his forehead against yours.
His movements were slow and shallow at first, allowing you to get used to the stretch that always came. He was always so gentle with you, always reading you and following your lead. And god, could he read you well. When you began rolling your hips up towards his, the way that you’d grip at his shoulders or run your fingers down his back. The way that you moans, would turn more into deeper groans. He knew what it all meant, and he didn’t hesitate to give you what you wanted.
Soon his slow shallow strokes turned quicker and deeper hitting that spot deep inside you, making your head spin.
“Oh my go-” you moan out, tucking yourself into Chris’s neck
“It’s okay I got you - fuck. I got you.” He pants into your hair.
His hips quickened, nothing but the sound of skin against skin filling the room as he pounded into you. You could feel that coil deep in your stomach begins to tighten and you knew it was only a matter of time.
“Fuck, baby. I can feel you -” he grunts, “come for me. Come on my cock baby come on.” he urges as his hips become quicker. He sneaks a hand down in between the two of you, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing at the little bundle of nerves. It’s enough to get you to cry out, and soon enough you see white, body tingling all over as you reach your high.
“Shit -” Chris moans, his own orgasm creeping up, as he feels your velvety walls contracting around him.
“Cum in me,” you moan out, bringing your hands up intertwining your fingers in his hair. “Please. I want you to,” you say tugging at his hair lightly the way he likes. He lets out a deep grown crashing his lips to yours, as he spills into you.
His hips slow down to a stop and too quickly he lifting himself up, making a move to roll over next to you.
“Wait, stay for a second,” you whisper, pulling him back closer to you. And he lets you, staying there with you while you both come down from your highs, his head resting on your chest.
“That was amazing. Thank you,” you say into the darkness of the moonlit room.
“You’re welcome,” He chuckles looking up at you, “Do you feel better?”
“Much.” you smile down at him planting a kiss on his forehead. “Thank you.”
chris evans masterlist // shawn mendes masterlist // ao3 // wattpad
#chris evans x reader#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans fan fiction#chris evans x black!reader#chris evans x black reader#chris evans concepts#chris evans prompts#chris evans blurb#chris evans imagine#chris evans imagines#my writing#chris evans smut#chris evans fic#chris evans fanfic#chris evans#chris evans fandom
443 notes
·
View notes
Text
SOMETHING MORE (the mandalorian x reader)
CHAPTER 30: Something More
RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)
WARNINGS: sexual content & descriptions of violence
SUMMARY: “I’m ready,” Din repeats, more fortified. You nod, and then beam at him and the baby, pushing your shoulders back. “This is a lot,” he says, his voice still tinged slightly with anxiety, “are you sure?”
You step as close as you can, reaching your hand up to bring his face down to yours, tipping your foreheads together. “Din Djarin,” you whisper, “I’m sure. We were always meant for something more. And,” you continue, smiling, mouth an inch away from his, “I don’t scare easy.”
AUTHOR'S NOTE: i am literally sitting here, emotional, crying as i write this. this has been the journey of a lifetime. i hope you all love this last chapter, and i hope it gives you that something more that Nova and Din found together. this last chapter, this grand finale, it's dedicated to every single one of you. thank you for being my readers, supporters, and friends. i hope this ending is everything you've dreamed. more notes, as always, are at the end. <3
*
A year ago, almost to the day, if you’ve counted correctly, you crash landed on Nevarro and the entirety of the rest of your life shifted somewhere huge and cosmic. You’ve always been a believer—in something bigger, something great, something more—but the second you met Din, and then the baby…well, everything seemed to just click into place. From Nevarro’s molten surface, to Bespin’s back alleys, to the excursions into the Mid Rim, to falling in love on Naator, to saying yes to the most romantic proposal on Yavin, to heartbreak and back on Dantooine, to all of the lives you’ve lost and the ones you’ve lived, all the way straight back into the Rebel Alliance, to losing your kid and your fiancé and then somehow coming out on top of it, ready to unite the remainder of the Jedi and the people of Mandalore and every single Rebel you know to pull off the greatest eradication of evil since the Death Star blew, you genuinely and sincerely can’t imagine your life being any other way.
And when you look over to the man you love, his helmet off, every contour of his gorgeous face in your full view, it makes your heart ache in your chest. Not in the way it did when you stumbled and drowned in the losses along the journey, not the way it did when he left you to protect you back on Dantooine, but in a way that feels just as huge and cosmic as the last year has been. You know war is on the horizon. You know there’s so many battles out there left to fight, and to hopefully win. You’ve come a hell of a way since being bounty hunter and babysitter, respectively. And all of it, every second, you think was worth it to get to this moment.
Because you’re not only about to be the wife of the king of Mandalore, you’re not only about to spearhead an entirely revitalized Rebel Alliance to take down the evil the Empire left over in the shadows, but you’re about to do all of it after meeting Luke Skywalker. And there’s something just as starry and explosive about your old life meeting your new one, just as bright, just as shiny.
Din’s quiet. You’re buzzing with adrenaline and anxiety and everything in between, but you’re trying to stay calm. Mandalore is a serene orb on the horizon, and you watch it through the blinking mirrors on Kicker’s dashboard as you slowly coast through the stars. Everything out here, when you’re not in warp, feels like everything is drawing towards something more. Not an ending. Never an ending. But there’s something poignant in each dazzling ball of gaseous light, as if this journey is a transformation.
“Where’s your head?” Din asks, lowly, and the spark in his voice is enough to break you out of your reverie.
“On you,” you answer, immediately, flashing a wide smile towards him, “as always, my big brave Mand’alor boyfriend.”
Din winces, just a little, but you can see the small beginnings of a smile etched into his face, a reflection of yours. “That one doesn’t seem as catchy.”
You laugh, throwing your head back, your loose hair dancing down your spine. You feel the way his eyes roam over you—not just hungry, not just with desperation—but with ease. So much has changed, and yet this, right here, the two of you in the cockpit, heading into the stars, this is so familiar you could do it in your sleep.
“Give me time,” you answer, finally, grinning back over at him, “I’ll come up with something better.”
Din’s quiet, and you turn your attention back to the space around you. It’s quiet out here. Peaceful, even though so much of the galaxy is rife with stress and there’s evil lurking out there in the shadows you and the rest of the team have to yank back into the light. And you know this is just the beginning—that the last time the Empire won, it took almost twenty full years to defeat them, and even longer to put anything right—but knowing you’re moving forward, you’re secretly married with the leader of a planet, you have an entire squadron of people caught from all haphazard places in the galaxy, and that your family’s going to be reunited in a matter of days, feels like you’re coming home in a way you haven’t felt in years.
“Nova,” Din starts, and then falls back into his silence. You glance back at him. The muted interior of Kicker reflects back onto the beskar, makes it look like it’s camouflaged. If it were anyone else, if you didn’t know him as intently as you do, you’d be on edge with Din disappearing into the ship. But you can feel his steady heartbeat, you know he’s right behind you, and, more than anything, he’s yours. Nothing about him scares you. Not even a little bit. Not even at all. “Do—do you really think we can pull this off?”
You sigh, flicking the switch so Kicker goes into autopilot, and then you slowly turn around him in your chair so you can face Din in yours. “Yes,” you say, gently, conviction seeping into your voice. “Yes, I think we can pull this off. You’re going to be the best leader Mandalore’s ever had, I’m going to work with the Alliance, we’re going to get our kid back, and we’re going to eradicate the First Order, whoever and wherever they are. We’re going to pull it all off, Din,” you continue, earnestly, leaning forward in your seat, holding his gorgeous gaze. “It’s not going to be easy. It’s not going to be quick. But we’re going to do it.”
Din holds your eyes. There’s something strange behind his own. “How are you so optimistic, even after everything?”
You blink, hand finding the Rebel insignia around your neck, fingers pressing down against the smoothness of the metal. You swallow. It holds heavier against your throat than your mother’s did, but something about the beskar carving makes it feel totally indestructible. A small beacon of fortification. Something to bring you out to sea and back to shore again. “Like I told Gideon,” you say, finally, “I have hope.”
He’s quiet. You are, too. Eventually, Din leans forward, hand linking with yours, meeting you right in the middle. “Don’t lose that.”
You shoot a small, guarded smile back at him. “I held onto it even when I thought you abandoned me back on Dantooine. I think I can keep this part of me alive forever, and I think it’s strong enough to keep it alive in you, too.”
Din stares at you. “I need you to know,” he starts, voice low and urgent, “that I’m so sorry. For leaving you. For not including you in my decisions. For—” he cuts himself off, inhaling sharply, “for breaking your trust. I messed up. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to fix it. All I can promise you,” he continues, hand tightening its grip in yours, “is that I’m never going to do it again.”
You look at him. There’s still that burning pyre in your chest, that fear that he’s going to disappear and not come back, that some sort of fate will lightning strike between the two of you, but the anger that lived there for so long has completely dissipated. You love him. You take a shaky breath, holding up your left hand. The beskar encircling your ring finger glints in Kicker’s low light. “I believe you,” you say, finally, laying it all bare. You inhale, biting down on your lower lip. “That’s what this is all about,” you continue, wriggling your fingers, “right? I know you,” you say, leaning closer, hair falling over your shoulder. His eyes track the movement of it, free, unencumbered. “I love you,” you continue, nodding slightly. “And I trust you. So I believe you.”
Din inhales. “Nova,” he starts, “do—do you ever think you’ll forgive me for leaving you back on Dantooine—”
And then he’s cut off, because Kicker starts screaming. It’s not the same warbled screech that haunted the comm back on Khubeaie, not that desperate kind of wailing. She’s warning you, you realize, as you let your hand drop out of Din’s and whirl back around to man the controls yourself. Din reacts almost completely in sync, but you saw the spark of ache in his eyes before he finished asking his question. Your stomach flips over.
Something’s failing. You know that. You’re not sure why, but the ship starts flickering and sinking, even when you’re supposedly moving on a full fuel tank, and even while you know you fixed all the major issues before you left Mandalore. Bo-Katan had even given the ship a very begrudging once-over, and you know her seal of approval is very hard to come by. Frustrated, you press all the right buttons, trying to calculate what exactly the issue is.
Your comm blinks. “Come in,” a voice rings, and for a second, everything floods into fight-or-flight. You’re running completely on adrenaline, still high from saying your wedding vows the night before, and you haven’t had more than one consecutive night of good sleep in months. Quickly, you flash your eyes on Din. “Come in,” the voice on the other end of the line says again, and it’s urgent enough for you to raise your wrist to your mouth, make you speak.
“Who am I speaking to—”
“Your ship’s haunted.”
You stare into the comm, back at Din, and then into your comm again, as if any of this will somehow crystallize the absolute nonsense that’s ringing in your ears. “What?” you say, still thinking you’re losing it, and then, before you can do anything else, you hear blaring on the other line.
“Not haunted,” another voice says, tiredly, and it’s not until Slave I pops out of warp that you realize you’re talking to Boba and Fennec. “Ships don’t get haunted,” she continues, “you just didn’t fix your disabled comm system when we first scrambled your signal. That’s the issue.”
You squint. You can’t see her, of course, everything about the ship is covered in tinted windows, but you want Fennec Shand to feel the full force of your disapproval and confusion. “You scrambled my signal? But that was days before—”
“Had to get a hold of you somehow,” the other voice says, and you exhale, shaking your head. “That was her doing. Not mine. The ship’s comm system is, for lack of a better term, haunted. Land on this planet.”
“We have to go to Hoth,” you protest, halfheartedly. “That was the plan.”
You can hear the wry smile in Boba Fett’s voice. “Oh, they won’t like me on Hoth, Rebel.”
You raise your eyebrow over at Din. By the way his helmet’s cocked, you know he’s laughing under there. “Too bad,” you shoot back, flipping switches on the dashboard as Din’s plugging in the coordinates to the ice giant nearby, “they’re gonna have to deal with it, because you’re with me.”
With a relatively boring flight and endless grumbling from Boba Fett, the two of your ships touch down on Hoth. It makes your stomach flip over. Everything in you is still buzzing—all that emotional resonance, all that fluttery anxiety of standing on the precipice of something more—and you can barely hear Din as he slips his helmet back on and gestures you to slide down the ladder after him. You feel alive. Dazzlingly, excitedly so.
Everyone complains about the cold. It assaults all of you the second the gangplanks are lowered, but there’s something so warm inside of you that you barely feel the bite of the chill. You flash a big smile at Wedge and the various members of the New Rogue Squadron as they greet you at the thermalock door, the warm breeze that greets you the second you step into the light downright summery compared to the ice.
“Did you talk to Luke?” Wedge asks, his voice low and complicated, as he leads your ragtag group to the control room. You don’t know why he’s whispering, but you follow suit.
“All I got from his last hologram,” you sigh, rubbing your icy fingers together, “is that he wants to see me in person.”
Wedge raises an eyebrow. “Really?”
You glance back over at him, eyebrows furrowed down the middle. “Yeah. Was that not what he told you?”
Wedge chews on his bottom lip. “He didn’t really say much of anything,” he admits as you round the last corner, “just that he needed to speak with you, as soon as possible, and that it was important. I’m not used to him being so secretive.”
You shoot him a small smile. “Is that unlike him?”
Wedge’s expression is wry, but his eyes sparkle. “The Luke Skywalker I know could talk to an empty moon for years before he realized there’s no one talking back.”
A grin breaks across your face. As Wedge walks around to his usual command spot on the other side of the holotable, you bite back your smile and stand at yours, feeling a very strange sense of pride as your unlikely team lines up behind you. Din is fully armored, but the set of his shoulders is much more relaxed than the last time he was there. Boba, especially with his newly refurbished armor, sticks out like a sore thumb. The generals across from you are defensive, not taking their eyes off of him for a second. Fennec doesn’t look like she belongs, either, but you have a very strong feeling that Fennec Shand doesn’t belong to anything except the chaos she craves. Still, there’s a determined set to her face that shows you she’s on your side. Mixed in with the rest of the semicircle are Cara and Karga, who don’t exactly blend in, but wear the same proverbial colors of the rest of the people at the table.
“New Rogue Squadron,” Wedge starts, his eyes dancing all over everyone stationed at the holotable, “meet our newcomers.”
“We’ve met,” one general says, disapprovingly, looking Boba Fett up and down.
Wedge lets Boba step forward menacingly for exactly two seconds before he steps forward, just an inch, and retakes command. “Refamiliarize yourself, then. We’re all on the same side here. We are,” he cuts himself off, lowering his voice, looking straight at you, “all on the same side here, right?”
You nod. “Who here wants the Empire eradicated for good?” Everyone’s hands go up. You cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at Fennec, the only one in the room that doesn’t have her hand in the air. “Fennec?”
She looks back at you, her eyes alive, a reflecting pool. “I like to be on the winning team.”
“Well,” you level, “here, you certainly are.”
She cracks a grin, and then her hand extends in a perfect line above her head. “I have a feeling,” she says, tongue snaking out and wetting her bottom lip, “that you don’t break promises often.”
“She doesn’t,” Din chimes in from behind you. You feel the heat rush to your cheeks, and you look back at Wedge, turning back over command.
“Alright then,” Wedge says, leaning forward, bracing each hand on the glimmering edge of the table, “let’s get started.”
The two of you talk first. You recount a very abridged version of the events, starting from when you and Din left Hoth last, all the way up to everything that happened on Mandalore. You glaze over the more unsavory bits back on Cantonica, only wincing slightly when you smooth over the fight in the back alley, the way that you were close to death. You can still smell that creep’s breath if you focus too hard on the memory, so you think instead of the way Din plunged the Darksaber into his chest. You bridge the gap by introducing Cara and Karga to the rest of the group huddled around the table, talking about your reunion on Nevarro, and how they were tracking down ex-convicts and members in the Guild, respectively, to uncover any new information on the Order. You finish, warily, with Gideon’s final statements, how he promised you the Order was going to come and take anyone with power they could manipulate for their own, how his eyes glinted when he told you that all Jedi would either be eradicated or turned into weapons. Finally, you close with his death, Bo-Katan’s measured rage, the battle over the Darksaber that chose Din again and made both of you basically royalty. Wedge’s face shifts as you tell him the last bit, your eyes very focused on his and not anyone else’s. You know that being associated with the current Mand’alor puts even more of a target on your back than it did when you were simply an exiled Rebel and bounty hunter, but you keep your chin up. You don’t care about the royalty aspect of it, don’t love the idea of being in charge of other people, especially after fighting for so long to be your own autonomous being. But you like the idea that Din is the rightful leader, and there’s not a chance in hell anyone—especially not the First Order—is going to take that from him.
You turn it over to Wedge, who’s still looking strangely at you. It’s not judgment. It’s not questioning. It takes about halfway through his opening remarks for you to classify it as pride. You step back as he talks, hiding a small smile.
“We have our work cut out for us,” he sighs, and you tune back in. “None of this is going to be easy. I’m going to ask you all one last time,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, a flurry of orange against the stark, cool interior of the base, “if you want out, this is where you leave. No hard feelings. But it needs to be now.”
No one moves an inch. Not a single general. Not Cara or Karga. Not Boba or Fennec, who both seem to be much more involved with this idea than they showed at first glance. Behind you, Din steps just an inch closer, and you feel your body filling up with warmth in his close proximity.
“That’s what I thought,” Wedge says, that smile of pride etched into his face again. “Here’s what we’ve found out. There isn’t a lot of information on anything related to the empire left, save for libraries and research archives, and of course, the lived experiences of everyone in this room,” He pauses, bringing up an image on the holotable. You see the flickering images of both Death Stars, and you hide a small shiver at how impending and filled with doom they look, even on this imitation of a screen. “We knocked both of these out,” Wedge continues, pointing at the rotating stars. “We made extra care to do it the second time,” he says, gesturing at the bigger and more reinforced of the two, “and then we tried to eradicate every single building plan the Empire had stashed away. I can’t promise that schematics didn’t survive, because I think there were parts of their regime that were a lot smarter than others. But we’ve made it our major effort over the last few years to put in as many annoying and massive roadblocks as we possibly can so that nothing can rise from the ashes. And yet,” he sighs, bringing up an image of Gideon on the screen, “this Order survived.”
“What makes you think they didn’t start after the Empire was eradicated?” Din asks, which causes more of the generals to mutter to one another.
“Because—” Wedge starts.
“I’ve seen this before,” you interrupt, gently. “Almost everyone associated with the Alliance did, too. I wasn’t alive when Darth Vader rose to power, but it didn’t just happen out of nowhere. It was calculated. It was planned. There was a large league of evil hiding under the surface, they were just good at hiding it. We wouldn’t have any idea that the Order exists now, except everyone we’ve fought has huge egos and can’t stop shouting it from the rooftops.” You glance back at Wedge. “I’m sorry. I cut you off.”
“You hit the nail on the head,” Wedge says, approvingly, giving you a quick nod. “With Gideon dead, it’s easy to think that most of the evil that’s terrorized the Outer Rim is gone, or—well, at least dormant. But that’s not the truth. They’re strategic in their darkness because they won’t survive without it.”
“Do we know exactly who we’re dealing with?” Cara asks, stepping forward. You watch as her strong, full figure fills the frame of the holotable. Everyone’s eyes are on her. “With Gideon dead, we don’t have much to go on.”
“I know,” you agree tiredly, dragging a hand over your face. “That—that was not the plan. But in that moment, it was what had to be done,” you amend, chancing a look back at Din. “No. There’s no new figurehead that we know of. From my experience—our experience—though, they wanted Grogu and me for a reason. It wasn’t to use our Force sensitivity as a weapon, like we had originally thought. They experimented on the baby when they took him,” you say, voice shaking a little, “and extracted something from his blood. Midichlorians. I don’t know, exactly, what they are or how they work. I’m a little new to the Jedi thing. But I know they have something to do with how we harness our energy, whatever it is that makes the Force up. Back on Cantonica, the people who tried to grab us insinuated using us—or our power—as weapons wasn’t their current mission, but it would be. And then when we spoke to Gideon back on Mandalore, he said the same thing. But his motivation may not have been the same.” You swallow. “He was scared,” you say, slowly. “Of them. The First Order. He admitted it. He was never in charge. He was a pawn, the same way they want to make us.” You stare at his rotating image on the table, tinted blue. You hate it. Even in this mugshot, he looks smug. It’s an expression that you know won’t go away for a long time after his death. “Whatever’s out there,” you finish, quiet, “it’s big, and it’s coming. We need to be ready. Because when it does, we’re going to have to give them everything we’ve got.”
“Well said,” Wedge says, looking around the room. “Anyone else got an update?”
A few of the other members of the Alliance step forward, confirming and denying a flurry of half-baked theories. Cara fills the rest of you in on what she’s learned from the people that are out of the prison system, which is really a whole lot of nothing. Most of the more dangerous criminals with the heinous crimes are still in prison, and those who have gotten out want to life a quiet, peaceful life. She talks about the refinery explosion back on Morak, the way she knows a few spots of Empire sympathizers, but other than surface-level information, she hasn’t gotten deep into any of her contacts. Karga and the Guild is the same. You can feel the way Din’s eyes are boring into him, the measured way he’s scrutinizing his face. Karga’s slippery, but he’s never posed a real threat, and there’s a kindness to him you wouldn’t expect in a bounty hunter.
Then again, you just secretly married one of the most dangerous bounty hunters in the galaxy, and under all that beskar, there’s nothing but a heart of gold.
You smile, hiding the grin under guise of your hand stroking your lip. As if he can read your mind, Din steps so that the plate of beskar on his thigh bumps up against the back of yours. Even through your pants, you can feel how cold it is, how unyielding. How different it is than the man who wears it. The rest of the Alliance turn in small bits and pieces of information. Wedge uses the holotable to input everything, to keep as both map and record. You stare as it projects more and more of blue data. If you unfocus your eyes, it looks like stars.
Eventually, the conversation dies down. “One more time,” Wedge calls out, “do we have anything else to update, or shall we divide and conquer before our next rendezvous?”
Again, no one speaks. The slowly cartographed map projecting up from the table stands as proof that even without a ton of information, you’re starting a long and valiant fight. You feel fortified on that alone. Wedge dismisses everyone, and then you hear a modulated voice behind you.
“Actually,” Din says, his voice rough through the modulator, “I have something.”
Wedge raises his eyebrow, nodding to encourage Din to continue.
“I…” he starts tiredly, sighing, “am the ruler of Mandalore now. I didn’t want it, nor did I ever ask for it, but it’s a responsibility I have to deal with. But I made a promise to Nova,” he continues, knocking his knee slightly against yours. To the outside eye, it doesn’t look like he’s moved at all, but you know it happened. “And I’m going to follow her. I’m in this fight as much as the rest of you are, now, and that’s not changing. So, I would like to move the Rebel base to Mandalore,” Din finishes, finally, to a mixed crowd.
“Mandalore,” the older general says, gruffly, “is not ours to claim. They don’t take kindly to strangers of our kind.”
“I know that’s the history,” Din answers evenly, “but it’s going to be different now. This…this First Order, they don’t seem to only be after Rebels. If we’re not careful and strategic about the way we fight back, they might slip through the cracks. I think cracking down on another fascist regime is something that the Rebels and the people of Mandalore could agree on.”
“I beg to differ,” Wedge says, but his voice is light. “Listen, we’ve been base-hopping since before the first Death Star was blown to bits. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s not a ton of us left. I don’t know if relocation is the smartest idea, not right now.”
You can feel Din’s anger underneath the suit. It’s not directed at Wedge, but the complication of accidentally becoming the ruler of an entire planet isn’t easily dissolved.
“What if we don’t move the base?” you step in. “What if we kept the order of operations on Hoth, but we have a small squadron of people who work out of Mandalore so we keep in touch? The commute is short,” you continue, bringing up the distance between the two planets on the table, “and scattering our protection across the Outer Rim is probably smart, anyway.” You look from Din to Wedge. Everyone else is quiet. “None of this is ideal,” you press on, slightly worried about the tension floating up around everyone in the room, “but I think we’ve more than proven that we’re on the same team, and that we’re going to fight like hell. If the First Order emerges from more than just these shadows,” you continue, chancing a glance around the rest of the room, “then we revaluate where the base is. But right now, I think we should focus on communication instead of relocation.”
“Fine by me,” Wedge answers, easily, and you feel the rest of the anxiety in the room lessen. “Does that work for you?”
Din turns to you. You nod, just once, pleading through your eyes alone. Finally, he gives a swift nod, agreeing without saying a word of contempt or assurance. You smile over at Wedge, nodding again.
“Then the rest of you are dismissed,” Wedge says, with a note of finality. Murmurs fill the room as people start flowing outside of the doors. He looks over at Boba, who, like Cara, Fennec, and Karga, haven’t moved an inch. “You’re really in this?” There’s something complicated in his voice. You can’t quite place it. “You’re not going to try to sabotage us? Or take any of us out?”
Boba steps forward. If you weren’t well-trained in Mandalorian body language, you’d take his commanding presence as a threat. Wedge bends his knees a little, lifting his chin. “I’m not a bounty hunter anymore,” he answers, voice low and smooth. “I’m just a simple man, trying to make his own way in this galaxy.”
You can tell from Wedge’s expression that he doesn’t trust a single word out of Boba Fett’s mouth. “If you won’t cause any harm to us,” he continues, “can you promise me that you’d say the same for Luke Skywalker?”
Boba crosses his arms. Wedge stands taller. “I want to knock Skywalker into that Sarlacc pit and come out in one piece,” he says, and even though his voice is even, it’s not filled with the malice it was when you first met him on Khubeaie. “I don’t care if he lives or dies. I just assume that he’s integral to this whole…eradication of the First Order. So until they’re dead and gone, I won’t touch a pretty blonde hair on his head. Afterward?” He pauses, as if to seriously ponder it. “I can’t promise you what I’ll do next.”
Wedge regards him. Because you’ve known him practically your whole life, you can see his tell of fear. It lives on, like a little flame beyond the blackness in his eyes. Finally, he nods. “That’s fair.”
Boba nods, relaxes his stance. He turns to you. “We’ll keep searching,” he promises, and you flash him a quick smile. Fennec nods, confirming his words. “We do still have unfinished business on Tatooine. But send us a hologram when you’re about to be coronated,” he continues, turning to Din. You can hear the wry humor hidden in his voice, “I want to see the look on the Kryze girl’s face when you’re officially Mand’alor.”
You want to placate Din by telling Boba that they’ve firmly agreed to a truce, but Din doesn’t rush to explain any of this to the other Mandalorian. “You got it,” he says, easily, and then the two of them are gone, heading back to where Slave I is parked. You look over at Cara, whose arms are still exposed in this icy room. She’s not even shivering. You think maybe she’s the only person in the galaxy who could literally intimidate cold and dissuade it from touching her. Karga, on the other hand, is practically turning blue. He’s swaddled up in furs and a very fancy jacket, and yet, you can hear his teeth chattering. “Back to Nevarro for us,” he says, his voice a lot more strained than usual. “We’ll keep looking, too. I know this isn’t going to be easy,” he continues, turning his gaze to you, “but we don’t give up.”
“Ever,” Cara enunciates, knocking her shoulder into Din’s, giving your hand a quick squeeze. “Really. You’re in good hands,” she finishes, dropping her voice an octave, glancing up at Din.
“Oh,” you say, grinning brazenly, “I know.”
She flashes you another smile before the two of them depart the briefing room, too, and you’re left with Din and Wedge. You look back at your old friend, and you still see that vaguely disguised concern in his eyes. For a few moments, no one speaks. You exhale through your mouth and watch as the cold lights it up into frozen air.
“What did Luke say?” Wedge asks again. His voice is urgent. “When he sent you that second hologram?”
You look at him, eyebrows furrowed. “He just—he told me that he needed to speak with me, and that when I saw you next, you’d give me the coordinates of where to meet him. That’s it.” Wedge inhales, his breath slightly shaky. “Wedge, what—?”
“There’s something wrong with him,” Wedge finally says. “There’s this…sadness to him, now, this quiet. When I first met Luke, he talked my ear off for three days before I was able to get a word in edgewise. He whined. He was oppositional. More than anything, he had the biggest heart of almost anyone else I’ve ever known.” His eyes meet yours. “You give him a run for his money, though, rebel girl. We—the last time I was…with him,” he continues, guarded. You have a feeling that he’s intentionally censoring himself, but you don’t push it. You know the way his face lights up whenever Luke is mentioned. And you haven’t met him yet, but you’d be more than willing to bet that Luke feels the same away about Wedge. “The last time we were together,” Wedge continues, “he…he told me that he was going to try and rebuild the Jedi Order, that he wanted to locate all of the sacred texts and find anyone else out there. To create a sense of community. Then he basically disappeared. I had to get to him through Leia, which wasn’t an easy feat, either, and she finally told me he was off on a planet none of us had never heard of before.” Wedge sighs. Something in you sparked when he mentioned Leia, and you’re trying your very hardest to keep your cool, because if there’s anyone in the Alliance you hold in higher regard than Luke Skywalker, it’s his twin sister. “When he contacted me again, he just seemed…heavy. Haunted,” Wedge amends, “and urgent. Like he’s running out of time.”
You stare at Wedge until his eyes find yours again. “I’ll help him,” you say, gently, stepping forward. “I don’t know what he wants from me. I only know him from stories. But whatever it is, I’m here to help. Okay?”
Wedge sighs. “Okay.” He looks back between you and Din, and then the small, easy smile he regularly sports flits across his face. “He’s on Ahch-To. In the Unknown Regions. He wants you to meet him there, and he wants the two of you to come alone.”
“That,” Din finally says, breaking his silence, “will not be a problem.”
Wedge smiles up at him, too. “I like you,” he says, gently slapping Din’s forearm. “Stay alive and don’t let this one go, Mandalorian.”
“Trust me,” Din assures him, as Wedge pulls the data drive from the holotable so that the two of you can keep a copy of everything in your journey to Luke and back to Mandalore, “those are my two top priorities.”
Hoth is cold. Space is colder. Usually, by the time you’re out in the stars, it’s impossible to feel empty and chilled, but you’re hurtling through warp to the Unknown Regions, and there’s something so dark and desolate about this corner of the galaxy. It’s ancient, from what you can tell, and largely abandoned. Something here is bringing you an odd sense of quiet, but mostly, you feel that haunted, desperate feeling associated with the lurking, looming threat of the First Order, and you’re trying your best to ignore it.
Din rises up out of his seat and stands beside you. He dangles both of his hands into your line of sight, and you gently undo his gloves, letting them drop to the floor. His fingers slip under the fabric of your shirt and start pressing on where the ache has blossomed and hardened. “You carry all of your stress here,” he murmurs, digging his thumbs into the knots that line your shoulders.
“Hard to feel stressed,” you hum happily, “when you’re doing this.”
He tips your head back. You stare upside down into the visor, and then his hands disappear from your shoulders to pull the helmet off. You hide your small sigh under the noise of the hiss that his mask makes, and when you’re face to face, something kickstarts like a drum in your chest.
You’ll never get tired of seeing Din’s face. Not now, not ever. It’s complicated and etched with so much worry, but when he looks at you, everything has quieted. It’s just the two of you, the crush of space, and the promise of being a real family on the horizon. It makes everything in you swell and burst like a eager tide against the shoreline. “I love you,” you whisper, and he strokes his thumb over your cheek.
He smiles. It’s such a rare thing, that genuine smile. It shines on long after it’s left his face. “Ni kar’tayl su,” he agrees, and then, so softly you may have imagined it, “Novalise.”
When he comes in for a kiss, he spins your chair around so fast that you don’t even have enough air in your legs. He kneels down so that his face is level with yours, knocking his forehead gently against his. You wrap both of your arms up and around his neck, staring into his deep, brown, expressive eyes as he holds both of your cheeks with the palms of his large hands, breathing in his scent of cleanness and metal and smoke and, still, cinnamon.
“Do you remember,” he starts, his voice thick, “when we…we first met, and I asked you how old you were?”
You nod, quietly, feeling his hair brush up against yours. “Yeah,” you say, softly. You can feel your heart beating quickly in the left side of your chest.
“That,” Din sighs, “was a year ago today.”
You look up at him, startled. “You counted?”
He nods, still with his forehead against yours. “You’re not twenty-five anymore,” he says, quietly, “and I didn’t get you a birthday gift.”
You smile, pulling away, only slightly, so you can see his eyes. “We have been a little busy,” you say, grinning. “I think I can forgive you on that one.”
He meets your gaze, low and intense. “Can you?” Din asks, and as you’re registering the weight of the words of forgiveness, he’s taking off your pants. There’s something desperate and hungry in his eyes as he works them off of you, dragging his bare hands up and over your thighs. You gasp with the lightness of his touch, and when his mouth moves up in between your legs, you think his tongue can work miracles. Huge ones. Devastating ones. You’re pretty sure Din’s mouth alone could bring about galaxy-wide peace, except you don’t want it anywhere except for buried in your pussy.
You let out a strangled moan, low and wet, and right as his tongue starts furiously circling your clit, Kicker starts fucking hollering.
You could kill her. You love her, the home you’ve made in her, how she’s kept you safe, but right now, if ships could be strangled, you would absolutely throttle her. Sighing, you wrench your pants back up over your hips.
“I’m not done,” Din warns, and the image of him wiping the slick off of his lips replays in the back of your mind as you try to yank your attention back to your screeching ship.
“What’s wrong?” you mutter, checking through the laundry list of flips and switches and buttons, trying to figure out why Kicker’s on high alert. It takes a second, but then you see it—black TIE fighters, wicked and sharp, arachnid and blending into the crush of space. “Shit,” you murmur under your breath, strapping yourself back in. Before you can warn Din to do the same, lightning-quick, he bolts his safety belt. You crack your neck back and forth, shaking your fingers free of the cold cabin interior and any leftover jitters you’re still feeling from Din’s mouth on you.
“Where did they come from?” Din asks, and you recognize that his voice is modulated, his helmet back on in a flash. “We’re in the middle of nowhere—”
“Warp,” you call back, as the first one fires. It’s not their stereotypical light blast—something about it is just as dark and insidious as their ships are. You escape it, but narrowly, and you yank Kicker up to evade the shot. “Every time. Every single time. How the hell,” you call back at him, firing off a few rounds of your own, “do they find us this easily?”
“Well,” Din answers, over the noise, “your ship isn’t exactly the most inconspicuous, even with the modifications—”
“Hold on,” you interrupt, barrel rolling over on yourself, evading another blast. It careens into some debris of a nearby asteroid field, and you wince as it collides. “Do you think it’s because they know that Gideon’s dead?” The word feels heavy in your mouth. You gulp, setting everything to stun, dropping some of your height so that you can avoid the new shots they’re volleying at you.
“How could they?” Din yells back, and then a blast hits Kicker. You scream with the impact, loud and uncontrolled, as it drains your shields. You can’t tell how bad the damage is, but nothing is burning or smoking, even though Kicker’s screeching at you again. You’re almost positive she’s a sentient being, at this point, because she’s always so humanoid in her reactions. You grunt, hauling the ship as far right as you can get, blasting one of the three fighters with your own artillery. “I’m going to arm the cannon,” Din says, and you don’t have time to tell him that the defense system at the back of Kicker is a mess of wires and buttons, and that you’re not even sure if the rear artillery works, before he’s gone in a flash.
It turns out, the rear artillery does work. It’s no masterclass in shooting, but Din knows his way around his weapons, even ones he’s never used before. You’re exhausted, but you yank Kicker up and over, avoiding another blast. You stare at the fighters as they whiz around you. There’s a darkness to them that you don’t entirely understand, but when they start shooting again, you’ve had enough. You hate killing. You still carry the tally marks of the lives you’ve ended deep inside your chest. You know all of them by heart. But you’re willing to let these people take a few punches with Kicker’s best cannons, because you’ve had enough of them trying to take everything you love away from you for what feels like the millionth time.
“Up!” Din yells from the back of the ship, and you take every single atom of strength you have last in your body to wrench all of the thrusters upward, careening Kicker dizzily into the mess of the stars above. The fighters follow you, lightning quick. Din shoots, hard and heavy, with what feels like all the ammo left on the ship, but then you’re out and the one right on your tail shoots another blast. Everything in Kicker shakes, screams, and then slowly starts to power down. You can feel her sliding into sleep.
“Not like this,” you mutter, furious, flipping every switch you can think of, trying to make it the right way up so you can recalibrate your defense, if you have any left, or at least punch in new coordinates so you won’t die out here, lost in the crush of space. That same, awful feeling that filled you when you crash landed on Dagobah is running through you again. The last thing you think before you start moving is how horrible and lonely your parents’ deaths must have been when they were spinning to their terrible, fiery end.
The fighter closest to you fires again. You unbuckle. If you’re going to die like that, out here in the middle of nowhere in the Outer Rim, you’re going to get to your secret husband first and you’re going to tell him that you love him, that you don’t want to die alone, and that after this, after everything, of course you forgive him.
But you don’t have a chance. You slide across the floor, and scramble towards the ladder, and you can hear the uncharacteristic noise coming from Din down in the hull, and then everything quiets. It’s not possible. It can’t be.
A single X-wing comes out of nowhere. You stop your struggle to get downstairs. You forget everything else. Your jaw drops as your eyes track the ship. You know it before you see him. You know it because literally everything in you is shaking and screaming, every single last part of you that harnesses the Force is kaleidoscoping in the shape of Luke Skywalker, but you watch, stunned into complete silence, as he delivers three blasts, knocking each fighter down into space. You watch their trails dizzy down to nothing as everything filters back in. Din hurls himself up the ladder, promptly crashes into you, and then you’re both tangled up on the floor together.
“Nova,” Din mutters.
“That’s—” you stop, blinking, trying to take the image in, still, everything locked on the X-Wing you can see out of the starboard window, jabbing at the shape of his ship with a shaky finger, “that’s—Luke Skywalker—”
“Kicker is failing,” Din says, patiently, and then, not nearly as patiently, he grabs your face. “Hey! You either need to get her down on the nearest planet or I will, but either way, I’m not dying out here.”
“Not dying. Right,” you say, dazed, and then the adrenaline kicks back in. “Um—” you get up, heaving yourself back to a standing position with all the weight you can on the heels of your hands. You throw yourself back into the pilot’s chair. Kicker is screaming. Your comm blinks, and you raise it, still not entirely aware of what you’re doing. “Hello?”
“You need to help me ground your starfighter,” the voice warbles across the intercom, and you choke back a sob. It’s him. It’s him. You have absolutely no idea what he means, but General Luke Skywalker is talking to you. “Your kid told me he did it before.”
You squint. “My kid—?”
And then, like the sound of a million tiny, glorious bells ringing all at once, you hear Grogu’s laugh. You choke back a sob. Din’s hand finds your knee, clenches it in something that feels an awful lot like relief.
“It’s too big for us to do it alone,” Luke’s voice rings through again, “you need to use the Force.”
And, holy Maker and all the stars above, you do.
It’s not easy. You have no idea how Grogu did this alone, especially since the Crest was so much larger and clunkier than Kicker, but you let Din pilot the controls as you work with Luke and Grogu to bring the ship down as easily as you can to the closest planet. It’s not the most populated place, and you have no idea what the terrain will be like, but you put everything out of your mind except for getting to the ground in one piece.
Kicker isn’t in the best shape when you ground her, but she’s alive and, like her namesake, still kicking. You’re going to need more fuel, and definitely some repairs on the starboard side, but you’re on the ground and alive. You disembark down the gangplank, shivering even in your Rebellion-issued parka, because this ice giant is just as frozen and formidable as Hoth is, and even vaster. Din looks completely untouched in his usual beskar, but he grabs and releases his hand as Luke Skywalker’s X-wing soars through the cloud cover, touching down a good distance away from your ship. Everything in you is alive and anxious, your heart beating out an intense staccato rhythm inside your ribcage. You know this isn’t a trick, that this is really Luke, that he has Grogu, that everything you’ve been working toward for the last year is meeting you face to face, but it’s still making your knees buckle under the weight of it. When you see him moving down the ladder, you can’t help yourself, running straight towards the ship. Luke turns around, and you skid to a stop in the snow, staring at him. When he shifts, you can see Grogu safely nestled in his robes, and you choke back a small sob.
The second your child sees you, he starts crying. You do, too. The chill freezes the tears on your face, but you don’t care, and you’re running again. Grogu stretches out his tiny green arms toward you. You vaguely register that Luke Skywalker has a smile on his face, but the only thing you’re focused on at all is Grogu, and when you pick him up, he smiles at you, sniffling, latching his small body against yours as tight as he possibly can.
“I missed you, bug,” you whisper. Your words are whisked away by the howling wind, but you don’t even care. You know he can hear it. “I missed you so much.”
He warbles, and you hold him even tighter, tipping your forehead against his tiny, wrinkled green one. Din catches up to the two of you, and you turn around, beaming, eagerly passing the baby to his dad. Grogu throws himself against Din’s armor, with zero regard to how cold the beskar is, happy to simply share in his warmth.
You’re still crying. Ugly sobbing, really, slobber all over your face, and you drag the sleeve of your jacket across your nose, hoping that it’ll amend some of your tears and the remnants it left behind.
“He’s missed you for a long time,” Luke’s voice rings out, and you turn around. You stare at him. He has a warm, big smile on his face, an unencumbered one, which is in high demand these days. His blue eyes are kind and endearing, and he tracks Grogu’s movements with great care. You stare at him, mouth slightly ajar, trying to dream up any words to string together to express your gratitude. “I’m—”
“General Skywalker,” you interrupt in a rush, wincing. “M—Master Skywalker. It’s such a pleasure to meet you.”
He smiles at you. “You can just call me Luke.”
You nod profusely. You have the strange feeling that you’re meeting royalty, and you don’t know what to do with your hands. “I—I’m Nova. Novalise. But you can call me Nova.”
His gaze drifts from your face to Din and the baby. He nods once at Din, and you can tell there’s something yearning behind his kind eyes. Luke looks back at you. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time,” he continues, stepping toward you. “I’ve seen you. In visions. In the baby’s head.”
You nod, swallowing. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
The wind howls. You shiver, feeling your nose turn red from the chill. Luke shakes a bit, too, which seems notoriously human from someone so legendary, before you remember he grew up on a desert planet and probably has zero resistance to the cold. He takes another step toward you. “How long have you been having premonitions?”
You blink at him. “How did you—?”
Luke offers a tired smile. “I can sense them in you,” he answers, gently. “You’ve been in mine. I can only assume you’ve seen me in yours. When did they start?”
“A few months ago,” you answer, honestly, sifting your weight more evenly between your feet. “I’ve always thought I was tapped into…something else. Something more. But this was different. It showed up in dreams, then the baby would show me his, then I started having them of my own. Sometimes, they’re clear, like before we met Ahsoka Tano. Sometimes, though, they’re vivid and completely nonsensical. You started showing up in them recently,” you tack on, faintly, “both how you look now and…what seems to be you much older. I can’t make sense of them.”
Luke tilts his head a fraction of an inch. “Have you ever met anyone else like you besides Grogu?” He offers up another small smile. “Or me?”
You shake your head. “No,” you say, earnestly, “no, it’s just…the three of us. Have you?”
The expression on his face changes, shifting enough for you to categorize the difference. “My nephew,” he answers, but there’s something slightly off about his voice. “I train him, sometimes, too. But he also has these visions, these—premonitions. For a long time, I was the only other Jedi I knew, and I just thought that was normal. I’ve been researching, and those types of premonitions aren’t the typical vision.”
You stare at him. “What—what are we seeing?”
“The future,” Luke says, grimly. “I think. I don’t know if it’s set in stone. But there’s this darkness coming. I know you’ve felt it. Wedge told me about your visions, but he didn’t need to.” His eyes search over your face. “I can see it. You’re like me, Nova.”
Despite everything, you grin back at him. “I can think of worse people to be like. Lucky me.”
And then you see it. What Wedge was talking about. A conflicted darkness flitters across Luke’s face, and then he does his best to absolve it. He does look so much older than you were imagining him to be—not by much, because he’s only a handful of years older than you are—but his eyes are haunted with an emptiness that comes with accumulated loss. And if he’s right, there’s more to come. Din steps in closer, carrying the baby. Grogu coos, and the youthful smile that Wedge talks about spreads across Luke’s face when he looks at the kid.
“I wanted to meet you,” Luke says, finally, turning his attention back to you, “because I wanted to see it in your eyes. The Force. I wanted to show you that…you’re strong, and you’re unique, and that can very easily make you a weapon. I’m here to tell you,” he continues, leaning in, “that you can choose not to be.”
You nod, locking eyes with him. “I’m a Jedi,” you say, slightly winded, but strong. “Or at least, I’m going to be. I’m not going to let the First Order take me.”
He blinks. “You know about the First Order?”
You nod again, then slowly shake your head. “No,” you admit, finally. “Nothing really beyond their name and their plans to use us as their weapon.”
Luke studies you carefully. “I thought—I was naïve, when I first started. I thought that turning my father back to the light and letting him kill the Emperor would end things. I was wrong. There’s more to come,” he says, gravely, looking out at the barren wasteland of the planet you’re on, “and I don’t think what died fully stayed dead.”
The familiar words rush over you, seizing in your diaphragm. “What did you just say—”
And then you’re cut off by the screech of TIE fighters. You flinch, grabbing the Darksaber off of Din’s belt, unsheathing the blade. There’s five of them. Luke, immediately, unholsters his own lightsaber, a piercing green. You’re captivated by it, by the determined set of his young face. He just looks like an expert. You take stock of his fighting stance, adjusting your legs to match his position. When the first blasts come, you brandish the Darksaber in front of you, sizzling away their attack. They swoop and soar around you. You hear the impact when one hits the beskar, Din knocked to the ground.
“Hey!” you call, running over to him, dropping the saber down by your side as Luke jumps and slices at the arachnid ships in the air. Your heart is in your throat. You didn’t see the hit, but you heard him fall, and frenzied worry is burning in your chest.
“I’m fine,” Din says, gruffly, “Fine, I promise. Go be a Jedi.”
You stare at him. He nods, wrapping Grogu up in his cloak, letting his tiny hands soar out in the open. Tiredly, the baby drags down one of the ships. More artillery is fired, and you pull Din and Grogu beyond a large shoal of ice, trying to avoid the blasts.
“Go be a Jedi,” Din repeats, and you shake your head. The fighters are so aggressive in their assault, but you watch as the swoop and soar around Luke, barely shooting anything in his direction. They want Din, you realize, like a lightning bolt in your chest, they want to attack Din and the baby because they’re after you. “Nova—”
“They’re trying to kill you,” you say, grabbing either side of the helmet as more blasts shake free some of the ice above your heads. “I’m supposed to be here—”
Before you can do anything, Din wrenches the helmet off. You stare at him, dumbfounded, trying to shield his face from the low, swooping fighters above your heads. “No—”
He kisses you. Full force. His lips are so much warmer than yours are, his tongue gentle and slithering into your mouth. You lean into the kiss, grabbing at him with everything you can, and then he’s pulled himself away. “I meant it when I asked you,” Din whispered urgently, “do you think you can forgive me for leaving you?”
Your heart is pounding. You can feel your eyes fill with tears. “Yes. But what are you—”
“Good,” Din answers, shoving the helmet back down, “then you can forgive me twice.”
And then he’s running, with Grogu in his arms, making a beeline straight for Kicker. You scream, but the sound gets ripped away in the wind. Terrified, you stare at Luke, who makes eye contact with you and extends his left palm, focusing on the first TIE fighter. You sheath the saber and run towards him, focusing all of your energy on the one that’s after Din. For what feels like forever, you stand back-to-back with Luke Skywalker, fighting off the evil surrounding you with nothing but the Force and each other. It feels huge in a way you can’t quantify, and even though you’re terrified with what Din’s doing, you don’t take your focus off the fighter for a second. When he’s back up the gangplank in Kicker, you help Luke tank the biggest one in the shoals of ice.
Two of them are grounded. You heave a heavy breath, trying to catch air in your lungs, and then the other three are delivering an array of artillery in your direction.
“Don’t let them touch my ship!” you scream, and Luke nods. You pull the Darksaber off of your belt, and swing it at the fighter that soars overhead, searing off their blasts.
“Nova!” Luke shouts back, and you turn to watch the holster of his green lightsaber fly through the air. Seamlessly, you grab it. The blade ignites immediately in your hand.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” you yell, and Luke twists around to stand by your side. You watch him as the three remaining fighters soar in above the two of you again, heart pounding.
Luke gives you a small smile. “What you’re meant to,” he answers easily, closing his eyes and lifting his hand to the three skeletal fighters in front of the both of you, “be a Jedi.”
You close your own eyes. Two people spill out of the fighters you’ve grounded, and you let Luke shoulder the three in the sky as you run, determined, towards the two men running angrily towards you. One of them lunges for you. You use the green blade to scare him off, but he doesn’t pay it any attention, just roars at you and tries to tackle you down to the ice.
“No you don’t,” you seethe, swiping the saber at his arm. It barely cuts anything, but the burn of it makes him howl. “You don’t get to have me.”
The other one is huge, menacing, built. You stare up at him, trying to only portray strength, not showing him a sliver of weakness, but when he comes for you, he’s vicious. This one’s smarter. He brought his blaster with him, and the bolts that he fires off are lethal and dangerous.
“You have no idea what you’re up against, little girl,” he smirks, and then, lightning quick, his hand closes around your throat. You’re not even sure how it happened, because you were brandishing Luke’s blade, and you’re much faster than the large figure in front of you, but the light behind your eyes starts to fade as he lifts you into the cold air, choking you out. “I’m not going to kill you,” he whispers, a horrible grin on his face, “what we’ll do will make you wish you were dead.”
You gasp, feeling the black spots in your vision slowly pinprick. You can barely see Luke. You don’t know where Din and Grogu went in Kicker. You can still hear the jeering of the soaring TIE fighters, and you know there’s only one thing left to do. You close your eyes, let everything run out of you backward, and then offer one, singular word to the universe.
Help.
Your consciousness fades back in. The man holding you drops you to the ground, and you wheeze and retch, trying to pull all of it back, stumbling away from his grip. It takes you a second to register what’s happening. Kicker comes out of nowhere, Din fires a series of blasts to the remaining fighters, Luke takes his lightsaber back to strike down both of the men, and above them all, Grogu has his eyes closed, his ears pushed back, and his little hands up in the air, using all of his tiny powerful body to Force choke the man who tried to throttle you.
You love him. Maker, you love him, so much. You cry up to him in relief, and the second he hears your voice, he stops, leaving the thug unconscious. Din uses up the rest of the artillery to blow the remaining fighters to bits, and then he grounds the ship.
The man, strangled, warbles out, “the First Order won’t forget this.”
Luke, icily, rises one eyebrow and his right hand, coaxing the man into a faint. “Neither,” he says, coolly, even after he’s sure the other guy’s out, “will we.”
“Thank you,” you say, warmly, rocketing the baby up in your arms. “Thank you, thank you—”
“His idea,” Din says, and you look up at him, both irritated and relieved. “I’m sorry I—”
“You,” you say, voice shaking, “are not forgiven.” But you jump on him as well, wrapping your arms around the cold beskar of his shoulders. “But thank you,” you whisper, in a voice so quiet that you know only he can hear it.
“This isn’t the end,” Luke says, behind you, and he tosses the Darksaber over to you. Din catches it midair with a singular hand. “This is just the beginning.”
“I’m not tired,” you say, exhausted, holding out his saber in your hand. “Thank you. For everything, thank you.”
“No. You hang onto that,” Luke says, finally. He has a strange expression in his eyes. “Keep the lightsaber. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you again, soon enough.”
Grogu, nestled up in your arms, stares up at you. You know, even wordless, what his huge eyes are asking. “Can we—” you start, voice shaking, “can—can Grogu come back to Mandalore with us for a few days?”
You wait with bated breath. Luke nods, meeting your eyes. “When you bring him back to Ahch-To,” he agrees, the ghost of a smile sparking up his face again, “bring my lightsaber with you. I’ll teach you a few things.”
You nod, profusely. Luke nods at the both of you, and right as he’s turning to go back to his X-wing, you find the rest of your question from earlier.
“What did you mean?” you call out, after him. “When you said what died didn’t stay dead?”
Luke’s eyes are haunted with something you don’t entirely understand. “Evil has a way of rising again,” he says, finally, “and I wouldn’t be surprised if the people I killed find a way to come back.”
It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “The people you killed?”
He looks at you. You know what he means. The Emperor, or at the very least, the horrible people who surrounded him. You swallow, trying to regulate your breath. “What—what can we do?”
Luke glances from Din to the baby to you. “Be a Jedi,” he repeats, his voice faraway. “I’ll see you soon.”
You nod, watching him, dazed, walk back to his ship.
“And Nova,” Luke continues, bracing himself on the ladder, “May the Force be with you.”
“And with you,” you whisper, watching as the X-wing disappears into the cloud cover, staring at the trails as they evaporate, as you hold the only tangible proof in the form of his lightsaber that Luke Skywalker was ever here at all.
The trip back to Mandalore is probably as cold as the one here, but you don’t even notice. You have the baby in your lap again, and all of the warmth in the whole galaxy is sitting here with you, green, adorable, and alive. The three of you spend the entirety of the trek cuddled up together, and when you finally land on the planet, you’re exhausted but safe. Your legs hurt from running, your scar aches from the residual cold, but you barely notice them. They’re such small hurts in comparison to all the good nestled safely in your arms.
Grogu, as always, is exhausted from using the Force to ground your ship and choking out the guy trying to do the same to you, and he falls asleep in your arms before you make your way back to the suite that Bo-Katan gifted the two fo you the last time you were here. You lay him down in the tiny bassinet in the adjoined room, his little snores just as quiet and angelic as they were the last time you heard him.
Your heart, still ran over from all the danger you’ve spent the last year fighting off, is full. You walk into the fresher, staring at your reflection. You’re positively disheveled, your clothes dirty and torn, your hair hanging half out of the braid you tied it in multiple planets ago, but that smile on your face is still lighting up even the darkest parts of your eyes. You stare at yourself, running your fingers across your lips, taking in every single inch of yourself. You don’t look like a normal twenty-six-year-old. You certainly don’t look like royalty. But you look like you. Nova, Her Highness Rebel Rouser Pilotess of the Outer Rim. Nova, wife, mother, Rebel. Nova, yourself.
That alone makes the grin stretch even wider. Din walks into the bathroom, staring at your reflection in the mirror, wrapping his big arms around your waist, letting his helmeted face rest on your shoulder blades.
“You are,” he sighs, “so beautiful.”
“I’m a mess,” you insist, giggling.
“Beautiful,” Din repeats, and when you tentatively hook your fingers under the rim of his helmet, he lets you gently pull it off. You stare at every sinch of his handsome, rugged face in the mirror, your eyes roaming over the valleys of his lips, the mountain of his nose, his gorgeous brown eyes that hold the stars.
“You are, too,” you whisper, faintly, and then he’s turning you around, his strong hands on your hips.
“I never finished giving you your birthday present,” Din murmurs, and he starts pulling his worn gloves away from his fingers. You watch as he lets them drop to the floor, breath hitching in your throat. “Do you think you could let me do that, cyar’ika?”
You nod, breathless. When he strips you down, you’re expecting to be perched on the cold metal of the sink as his mouth returns, again and again, between your thighs, but his warm, rough hands hook underneath your thighs and he carries you out of the fresher.
Din lays you down on the bed. He’s still fully clothed side from his helmet, and for what feels like an eternity, you just stare into his eyes, thanking the Maker and all the stars above that you’re the one that gets to know him like this, that he trust you to look at his face, that you broke down on Nevarro all those months ago.
And when Din dives between your thighs again, you know he’s thanking everything in the universe for the same exact things.
His mouth is an omen, a prayer, a miracle. You’ve never been particularly religious, but he makes you want to be. You can feel the way he’s opening you up, letting no part of you go untouched or untasted. You sigh, moaning loudly into the soft flesh of your arm, trying to stifle the animalistic noises he’s evoking. When his tongue finally, finally finds your clit, you can feel what he’s spelling. First it’s mine, then it’s your name, and then it’s I love you. You gasp. You could recognize it anywhere, even in the dark, and still, your pulse is absolutely racing.
“Din,” you start, strangled, “fuck—I’m—I’m gonna—”
He pulls his mouth away from you, an obscene smacking noise filling the rest of the room. “Good,” he enunciates, and then his tongue is back on you.
You’re pretty sure you see heaven. Your fingers knot tightly in his gorgeous dark hair, whimpering as he coaxes another orgasm out of you, then another, then another. Your legs are shaking, and you’re infinitely grateful that he carried you out here instead of trying to eat you on the edge of the sink, because you wouldn’t have been able to stay standing. You swallow, gasping harder and harder as his mouth pulls off your pussy and roves up your stomach, decorating your scar with the sweetest kisses, pawing gently at your tits before his mouth licks love bites into the underside, above your nipples, in the middle of your chest. You think that if he asked, you’d let Din plant hickeys literally anywhere he wanted, to put his claim on you, to prove that he’s yours. When his mouth meet yours again, it’s like you’ve died and come back to life.
You can taste yourself on Din’s lips, salty sweet. He licks into your mouth. “Taste so good,” he croons, mouth dropping to the pulse point behind your ear. You shudder as he teases you with his mouth, two fingers dipping in your slick and then pushing inside of you. You clench and moan around him, and faintly, you hear him moan about how tight you are before the rush of another orgasm rips into you and everything goes starry and skyward.
Finally, you come back to your sense, reeling. “Din,” you try again, but his name comes out in a breathless puff of air. You’re writhing under his touch, every inch of you alive and his. You feel electric.
“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he grunts out, and you don’t even have time to try to bargain for a taste of his cock, to touch him, to put your mouth in places that’ll make him feel as good as you do. For a second, he pulls you up so you can wrap your mouth around him, but the second he thrusts into your throat, he’s gone. “Not gonna last,” he murmurs, fingers tangling in your loose hair, “I have to fuck you now, cyar’ika.”
Your eyes roll back. “If—if you must,” you manage, but your voice is so thick and laden with lust that the joke doesn’t deliver. Din uses the head to rub against you a few times before he goes in, teasing your swollen clit before he pushes everything inside of you.
It’s everything. He’s not gentle, this time, which is exactly what you wanted. You don’t think you could see straight for days if he tried to pound you with ease. You want to be absolutely annihilated, to have the breath taken out of you. Wordlessly, Din does just that. He fucks into you hungrily, without remorse. You’re both moaning. His lips press up into your ear, but you can’t even recognize what he’s saying as he fucks everything out of you. Eventually, his words register-feel so good, my sweet thing, fuck, Nova—and you cry out as you clench down around him for what feels like the hundredth time. Din plants a singular kiss against your lips, moans, and whispers, “that’s it, sweet girl,” and then both of you are sent to the stars at the same time, gasping, moaning, screaming, like you’re colliding stars, like you belong to nothing but each other. It’s everything. It’s huge. It’s that something more you’ve always felt, that cosmic connection, that dual astral projection. For what feels like hours, you lay together, breathing in each other’s air, satisfied and happy.
Both of you end up in the shower, although you can’t remember either one of you asking to move towards the fresher. You let Din drag the soap over your sore shoulders, cleaning between your legs, frothing the suds in your hair. You don’t know when he had the time or the energy to do it, but he got that lavender soap you love, and the scent fills up the place with steam.
You do the same, wordlessly, dragging his soap over his broad shoulders, across his toned stomach, down both of his legs. You kiss Din as he presses his lips against yours, over and over again, and when you leave the shower, you’re both inches from sleep, happy, exhausted.
The bed is so much more comfortable than the one on Kicker. You sink into it, completely naked, shifting as close to Din as you possibly can. It’s dark in here, but you’re close to the window, and you see the foreign shapes of the buildings of Mandalore, and everything filters back in.
“Did you ever believe,” you whisper, not even sure if Din is still awake, “that when we met, we would end up both being Rebels and the leaders of a whole planet?”
“No,” he answers, immediately, his voice muffled against the back of your neck. “Not a chance in hell.”
You grin, into the darkness. “And now?”
“Now,” Din sighs, pulling you closer, “I truly can’t imagine our lives being any other way.”
You nod, in silent agreement. The night beckons you in closer and closer, and you let yourself fall onto the edge of sleep, heart full, eyes closed, exactly where you’re supposed to be. When you drift off to dreamland, you hear Din whisper he loves you, and you replay the words over and over in the back of your mind until they forge a promise stronger than the one living on your ring finger, content, together, on the precipice of something more.
Morning comes quickly, and it comes with Grogu jumping on the bed and waking both of you up with his abnormally loud cooing. You wake first, not even sure how the little guy found his way up on top of a bed that’s easily five times his height, but you pull him into the nest of sheets and blankets you and Din made in your sleep. When he wakes up, it’s slowly, and you touch your fingertips over to his face, tracing lines of love into his skin.
“Good morning, Mand’alor,” you say, and Din’s eyes open slowly.
“Not yet,” he answers, voice flat. You look over at where Bo-Katan must have left your outfits while you were gone on Hoth. His is typical—the Mandalorian beskar he’s been wearing for as long as you’ve known him, but with a neutral blue cloak to replace all that black. Your dress is gorgeous. You didn’t even know if you would have anything new for the ceremony, because all you’re doing is standing there, but you have to admit, Bo-Katan went above and beyond with this one. The color of the dress is shimmering, a dark navy blue that’s almost completely black. The fabric hugs the top half of your shoulders, and as the dress flows down the rest of your body, the blueness lightens into the same color Din’s cloak is made of. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, rivaled only with Yavin’s sunsets and Naator’s pink skies, and when you put it on, you feel like a princess. It’s not practical, but it’s also functional, and as you interrogate the chair full of things Bo-Katan brought you, you find a matching garter, shimmering in the same impossible way the dress does, embroidered with twin silver stars. When you slip it on, the lightsaber Luke’s letting you hang onto fits perfectly, flush against your legs. There’s a small slit trailing up the dress, so hidden by the starry, shimmering fabric that no one would catch it if they weren’t looking for it, and you grin as you put it on, thanking the Maker above for the Mandalorians being so effective in their aesthetic.
“Holy fuck,” you hear behind you, and you turn around. Din’s only in his underclothes, the tiniest bit of his belly peeking out from under his new tunic, and he’s staring at you.
“Bo-Katan,” you say, shyly, taking stock of his shocked face, “does not miss.”
Din walks toward you, taking in every inch of your shimmering dress, mouth slightly ajar. “No,” he murmurs, and then he’s striding towards you, holding your face in his hands, his lips feverish and frenzied against yours. “She certainly does not.”
“Neither do you,” you whisper, dazed, touching your lips, staring at him as he shoulders the cloak. “You look—”
“Strange,” he mutters, checking out his reflection critically.
“Amazing,” you correct, walking closer. The two of you look like royalty—outfitted in all the blue bells and whistles that Mandalore has to offer, standing tall in all that silver regalia—and when Grogu tugs at the bottom of your dress, you lift him into your arms, adjusting his own blue outfit. You don’t look like a rebel and a bounty hunter and their strange baby. You look like a family, a real one, and something else. You look like you belong here.
When Bo-Katan meets you at the door, she looks equally as regal. Her eyes roam over Din’s helmeted face with slight disdain, but she looks at you like she sees stars, and when her gaze flits over to Din again, her expression has molded into something that faintly rings out excitement.
“Are you ready?” she asks, leading the three of you down the staircase at the back of the quarters. You can tell by the shift in architecture that you’re heading straight for the throne room, and your heartbeat is knocking itself dizzy. Everything feels alive and electric, that buzzing of something more loud in your ears. You know this isn’t the ending. You know that by all accounts, that this is truly a beginning—you’re about to be married to the new leader of Mandalore, you have an entire shadowy fascist regime to beat, you know practically nothing about being a Jedi—but everything that started when you crash landed on Nevarro all those years before feels like it’s settling cosmically into place. Your breathing is quick and shallow as you hear your heels click against the empty hall, trying to take everything in, and before you know it, you’re at the door.
Bo-Katan looks at you and Din. “Everyone’s in there,” she says, and her voice is gentler than you’ve ever heard it. “They’re likely not going to be happy with this. But I’m going to go out first, and I’m going to introduce you and…” she looks over at you, and then back to Din, “and then you three will come in.”
Din nods.
“Are you ready?” Bo-Katan asks again, and there’s no greed in her voice. She’s not wanting for him to fail. You watch as she stands up straighter, and you notice the same color cloak flowing out from all of her beskar. You don’t know if you fully like her, yet, but you trust her, and you know that’s far more valuable in a situation like this. She offers you the tiniest of smiles. You return it, tenfold.
Din nods again, and then opens his mouth to speak. His voice is calm through the modulator, calmer than you would have expected. “Yes,” he says, finally, “yes, I’m ready.”
Bo-Katan nods at both of you, catches your eye one last time, and then shoulders herself through the double doors. The cheering and noise of the whole planet filters through the wide doorway, and then they click closed, leaving you and Din and Grogu together with nothing but each other.
“We can still run for it, you know,” you whisper, trying to shake the jitters out of your voice. “Think about it. We could disappear back on Yavin. Or Naator. That tiny little village. Pink skies, beautiful yellow trees.”
Din looks over at you, and you know you’re looking straight into his eyes under the visor. Your heart is beating so fast. “You made a promise to me, cyar’ika,” he says, “that you won’t run.”
You grin back at him. “True. I did say that. But I meant it in the context that I was never going to run from you. I never promised I wouldn’t run with you.”
“That’s quite the loophole.”
“I’m good,” you say, giggling, “and smart. I have like ten thousand contingency plans.”
“Well,” Din says, facing back to stare at the doors, reaching his gloved hand out to meet yours, “you don’t need them here.”
You look at him. “We’re gonna pull it off,” you repeat, trying to make your promise shine just as bright as all the ones he’s given you. “All of it. You are going to be the greatest leader that Mandalore has ever known. Grogu,” you continue, looking down at your adorable, green child nestled safely in your arms, “is going to become a Jedi.”
Din turns to you again. “And you?”
You smile. “Maybe both. I contain multitudes.”
Din laughs, and the noise is so light and so free that it makes every single inch of you melt. You beam up at him. “You certainly do,” he says, quietly, and then, after what seems like a moment of deliberation, he lifts his fingers and pulls his helmet off. He doesn’t look relaxed, but he doesn’t look particularly fearful, either.
“Are you sure?” you ask, breathless, as he brings his helmet all the way off, staring back at the double doors that Bo-Katan disappeared through a minute ago. You can only faintly hear what she’s saying, but you know it’s nearing the time when the three of you—your strange, wonderful little family—have to meet her in there.
He nods. “We’re both done running,” he sighs, his voice thick with resolve, “and I’m done with hiding.”
Your eyes fill with tears. “I love you. Ni kar’tayl su, darasuum.”
“Forever, Nova,” Din whispers back. He turns to face you one last time. You stare into his eyes, that warm, eternal state of brown, and as he moves closer to you, his hands around your waist, you don’t take your eyes off of him. Not even to blink. Not even for a second. You just stare, drinking in every single inch of his gorgeous face, knowing that you know him. It pulses and burns inside you like a shared, glorious star. “This is the beginning, you know.”
“I know,” you repeat, softly, feeling as his hand gently strokes over your perfect hair. There’s a headband as part of your outfit, made out of glittering spikes of beskar, and when Din touches his hand to it, it feels like a crown. “We’re going to change the world. Stop the order. Bring peace and good things, and then when we’re done, we can retire knowing we made all of this better for the rest of the galaxy. And then,” you inhale, staring into his eyes, “we’re going to have a real wedding. Flowers. Grogu presenting our rings. Boba Fett marrying us.”
“Absolutely not,” Din cuts you off, but you can hear the lilt in his voice. “Cara or nothing.”
You grin back. “Deal.”
“And where are we retiring?” There’s a tiny sparkle of humor hidden in his voice.
“We’ll have homes on all our favorite planets,” you decide, “but we can live on the ship for good, if you like.”
“No,” Din says, his voice faraway, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “When I make our next home with you, it’s going to be permanent.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
“Nova—”
“We’re ready,” you assure him, stepping closer, tipping your head back. “I’m ready. Are you?”
After a moment, Din nods. The way he’s holding you—protective, possessive, wholly yours—it makes everything fade out. For a moment, a dazzling, fleeting moment, everything else fades out. You see the two of you on Nevarro the first time, the way his hands felt when he was patching your wounds, all the promises you both made and broke back on Dantooine, the vows to each other on Naator, the proposal on Yavin, every single time you’ve saved each other, which is now an even tally, standing together at the Rebel base, standing together through the darkness, through the light, still standing together here. You love him. With all of your heart, you love him, and you know it’ll last even longer than forever. There’s war coming, but for now, you’re with your husband and your baby, about to step into the next phase of saving the world. And after everything, after all of that, you know the perfect thing to say before moving through those gilded double doors.
“I’m ready,” Din repeats, more fortified. You nod, and then beam at him and the baby, pushing your shoulders back. “This is a lot,” he says, his voice still tinged slightly with anxiety, “are you sure?”
You step as close as you can, reaching your hand up to bring his face down to yours, tipping your foreheads together. “Din Djarin,” you whisper, “I’m sure. We were always meant for something more. And,” you continue, smiling, mouth an inch away from his, “I don’t scare easy.”
And as Bo-Katan opens the double doors, you lean into your embrace, everything rushing back to the present, the entire galaxy evaporating and colliding at once. You hear the crowd in the throne room. You don’t know what’s coming next. But, you think, as you prepare to move forward, as long as you’re doing it with Din and Grogu, you’ll be okay.
So, regardless of the open door waiting for the rest of your lives in front of you, you slide your hand down Din’s face, lean into his kiss, and whisper that you forgive him.
*
TAGLIST: @myheartisaconstellation | @fuuckyeahdad | @pedrodaddypascal | @misslexilouwho | @theoddcafe | @roxypeanut | @lousyventriloquist | @ilikethoseodds | @strawberryflavourss | @fanomando | @cosmicsierra | @misssilencewritewell | @rainbowfantasyxo | @thatonedindjarinfan | @theflightytemptressadventure | @tiny-angry-redhead | @cjtopete86 | @chikachika-nahnah | @corvueros | @venusandromedadjarin | @jandra5075 | @berkeleybo | @solonapoleonsolo | @wild-mads | @charmedthoughts | @dindjarinswh0re | @altarsw | @weirdowithnobeardo | @cosmicsierra | @geannad | @th3gl1tt3rgam3roff1c1al | @burrshottfirstt | @va-guardianhathaway | @starspangledwidow | @casssiopeia | @niiight-dreamerrrr | @ubri812 | @persie33 | @happyxdayxbitch | @sofithewitch | @hxnnsvxns | @thisshipwillsail316 | @spideysimpossiblegirl | @dobbyjen | @tanzthompson | @tuskens-mando | @pedrosmustache | @goldielocks2004 | @fireghost-xas always, reply here or send me a message to be added to the taglist!!! (and if you've already asked me and you're not on it, please message me again!!!)
*
I HOPE YOU ALL LOVED IT!!!! writing this has been the adventure of a lifetime. it's given me peace, solace, happiness, giddiness, and, most importantly, all of you. thank you all endlessly for coming along on this journey with me. i love each and every one of you with all of my heart. thank you for supporting me and my story, for leaving incredible comments and analysis, for being my friends, and for jumping off this crazy cliff with me. SM turned into the story i was always meaning to write when introduced Nova as her whole character, and your love for her has filled my soul up with so much joy. thank you, endlessly, for coming along this ride with me. i know this isn't a "real" ending, and that not every single little plotline was tied up in a neat little bow, but i hope you'll forgive me because i have PLANS for the sequel. give me a month or so to get writing and planning, and the next installment in the SM series will be up as soon as possible!!!! as always, i'll give ya all the updates on tumblr (amiedala) and tiktok (padmeamydala) when writing starts!
you are all so important to me. thank you for reading, thank you for loving my words, and thank you for seeing this through with me.
onward and upward; the next adventure awaits!!!
all my love always,
amelie
#something more#something more update#something more fanfic#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#din djarin x female reader#din djarin x original character#din djarin x original female character#din djarin x oc#the mandalorian x you#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian x female reader#the mandalorian x original character#the mandalorian x oc#din x nova#dinova#novalise#mando x reader#mando x you#mando x oc#mando x original character#mando x original female character#pedro pascal#pedro pascal character#pedro pascal fanfiction#star wars fanfiction#the mandalorian fanfiction#din djarin smut#the mandalorian smut
97 notes
·
View notes
Text
Your Safe Heaven
Word Count: 2.1K
Pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader
Tags/Warnings: Smut (18+), Comfort Sex, Praise, Unprotected Sex, No beta we die like bisexuals.
First attempt at a Haikyuu fic with our beloved Iwa-chan. Also a small gift for my beloved angel @iwaasfairy, thank you for being such an amazing friend, fairy. I hope you enjoy it!
All Characters are aged up.
He watches the night sky through a closed window, admiring an endless curtain of darkness filled with stars, glimmering elegantly in the middle of the night. He’s already lost count over the years of how many times he’s spent admiring their beautiful, mesmerizing glow….and yet, none of that compared to the endless feeling of pure affection that he felt for you.
His attention is drawn away from that breath-taking scenario by a couple of whimpers barely able to be perceived. His attention goes towards the king-sized bed at the other side of the room, where you’re laying down in a deep slumber, wearing nothing but one of his shirts and a pair of panties that are barely covered by the thin, cotton blanket draped over your legs, if he remembers correctly said blanket had been covering your waist less than a few hours ago, so you probably moved it lower with each time you moved in the mattress.
But as much as he’d love to stay in place, stroking your face affectionately and watch this peaceful state of yours, he finally noticed the tears in your face, and once again you began whimpering in your sleep, curling into yourself with each sob crawling its way out of your throat. He knows about those dark thoughts that haunt you and make you feel worthless…
There’s nothing in this world that fueled his anger as badly as watching you suffer at the hands of your own head, he always hated -no, he despised it- when those thoughts come back, haunting you and clawing their way into your heart to fill it with doubts and despair, and although he knew it’s not something that could be fixed in the span of a day, but it didn’t mean he’d just be sitting there and watch that darkness grow, feeding off your pain until it became unbearable.
Hajime’s determined to distract you, even if it’s for a small moment. With that goal in mind he begins crawling in bed, pulling the blankets over the both of you, his arms wrap themselves around your waist to pull your sleeping self back against his chest. Being this close makes it easier to see how much you’re hurting: your whole body is trembling from head to toe, the whimpers become louder, and as he rest his head into your shoulder, he can see the tears making their way out from the corners of your eyes, soaking the fabric of the pillow with every sob.
He hums into the skin of your neck before starting to kiss your cheek tenderly but also flustered, physical affection was always hard from him, and he’s never been one to take the initiative before, but this time he was determined to prove to you just how much you actually mean to him. One of his hands began gliding along your curves, playing with the hem of your -his- shirt and making its way up to caress your chest, the tips of his fingers tracing the outline of your breasts.
Between his delicious touches that lit your body on fire and his soft locks of hair tickling the side of your face, it didn’t take long for you to begin whimpering for a whole different reason and begin squirming in sync with his touch, much to his enjoyment. Is this everything he had been missing? It hasn’t been that long since you both started being intimate, let alone spend the night together.
But then again, that could always change...right?
With that in mind, Hajime buries his face further into your neck and continues kissing all over the skin, feeling himself throbbing in his boxers with every whimper coming out of your lips because of the constant nipping on your shoulder, pleasing him to no end once you finally began to stir awake.
“...Haji?” the grogginess in your voice brings a smile to his face that grows bigger when your eyes meet, he can see your pupils are already dilated from the way he keeps touching you.
“Hey princess.” The peck he leaves at the side of your head is just as affectionate as the feather-like touch he leaves on your sides. There’s goosebumps all over your skin when his hand finally sneaks its way inside your panties, a soft gasp leaves your mouth which Hajime doesn’t miss.
“Wha...What are you doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” He gives your neck another kiss “I’m distracting you. So just lay back and let me take care of you, yeah?”
“But, you have work in the--”
He doesn’t let you finish that sentence, capturing your lips both firmly and wavering, suddenly feeling unsure of how to proceed, but the little noises you make when he brushes against your folds with a single finger urges him to continue.
“You know I love you, right?” His eyes are warm and soft, with slight traces of concern deep inside that tell you everything...he knows. The thought alone is almost enough to make you cry all over again. When your body starts trembling again he stiffens momentarily, but he doesn’t allow his doubts to take over and pulls you tighter against his body, almost hard enough to be suffocating if he used just a little more strength.
“Hey, I’m here with you...alright?” He whispers tenderly against your ear. After a few minutes you start calming down and with a small snivel, you give him a small nod after soothing your thoughts, and turn back to look at Hajime with a soft smile. “Now, let me take care of you, babe.”
The room falls silent when he captures your lips for a second time, swallowing your moans once his fingers begin grazing your clit.
“Is this okay?” He’s watching the way your body reacts to his touch with a keen eye. It’s funny, you’ve been intimate with each other in the past and yet he never gets tired of this, of watching you tremble whenever he starts pleasing your body. Is it his hands? his mouth? his cock? it doesn’t matter to him, every single reaction sends him into a frenzy.
But tonight he’s holding back, tonight is all about you.
“I can’t hear you, princess. Does it feel good?”
“Yes, Haji. I...I love it when you touch me like that.” You’re already panting hard, bucking your hips slightly against his fingers in hopes of getting that sweet release. “Can you...please touch me some more?”
“Of course.” He kisses your temple one more time, humming in contempt when his fingers slide into your wet pussy, feeling proud of himself once you begin gasping and arching against his hold from the arousal. When your legs begin clenching together, Hajime slid his own leg in between, hitching them open for better access to your sweet core.
“H-Haji!” Your hands are clutching the blankets with force, trembling harder against his unwavering hold, but even with all the trashing in place desperate for release, he refuses to weaken his hold on your body. “I’m close, I’m really close!”
“Mmmmm, you’re close, babe?” You nod desperately. Accidentally brushing against his erection that starts poking your backside, the friction makes him growl and rut against your body, which makes him just as desperate to be inside your soft walls.
It’s in that moment that he pulls his fingers away despite your desperate cries. When you turn back to beg for him to let you cum, the rustle of clothes can be heard clearly, along with his own desperate groans when he manages to free himself from his boxers.
“Can you fetch the lube?”
“Mhmm.”
Once he releases you from his grasp, you’re immediately crawling over the mattress to pull open the nightsand’s drawer, where you keep the small bottle he asked for, all while he’s too busy pulling down your soaked panties. With the little bottle in hand, you turn back to him with a desperate look in your eyes, one that yearns for him to make you feel so deliciously good.
As he starts preparing himself, you sit up to try and pull the shirt over your head, just to be interrupted by a strong pair of arms wrapping around you, trapping both of your arms by your sides before pulling your body back on the mattress and tighter than ever against his body.
“Don’t take it off, I love the way my shirts look on you.”
“...Okay.”
His hands tilt your face back just enough to look back at him, and when you see the soothing warmth in those dark eyes, it fills you with a sense of security, like nothing could go wrong when you’re together, bringing a small sense of relief that only Hajime can provide.
“Can I?” He asks quietly, and yet it’s obvious that he’s just as eager and desperate to bury himself between your legs, but the fact that he always had the need to ask for permission before going any further always tugs at your heartstrings.
“Mhmm.” You hum in response, rapidly burrying your face in the pillow from the cold feeling of his fingers lathered with lube, once again burried inside your inner walls, stretching and prepping them nicely, two fingers began curling up inside to caress that sweet spot that made you squirm under Hajime’s hold, who continues with the sweet torture for a bit longer until finally, he just can’t hold it any longer, he needed your body...and he needed it now.
For the second time that night, he pulls his fingers from your dripping cunt, ignoring the protests and your nails digging on his bicep with desperation. And finally, he grabs at the base of his cock and slowly pushes himself inside you.
You both gasp in sync at the sensation, your insides clenching around him so well that Hajime could nearly come undone in that moment, consumed by the exquisite warmth enveloping him in waves, it makes him cling to your body as he gives a single, deep thrust which draws the prettiest moans meant only for his ears.
And in return he growls deeply against your ear, all while he keeps hugging your body firmly against him, driving his cock inside you over and over into the deepest corners of your walls at a delectably enjoyable rhythm.
He tucks your hair away from your flushed face, taking in every expression you make. From the way your eyes close tightly whenever his cock brushes against your cervix, to the way you bite down on your lower lip to hold back a moan, and the little hitch in your breathing when he starts pinching one of your nipples.
But nothing beats the way your body reacts whenever he starts whispering the sweetest things. His endless chanting and praising that sends waves of pleasure feel utterly heavenly, and Hajime could tell how much you enjoyed it from the way your walls keep clenching with every thrust, almost like your body refuses to let go of him out of desperation and bliss.
“Haji…! I’m- ah! I’m close, I’m so close…!” Your body starts convulsing in his arms, the coil inside your stomach threatening to come undone when Hajime starts to pick up speed, but then he takes a hold of your inner thigh and positions it higher, which gives him the chance to ram his cock even deeper inside, the loud squelching that resounds across the bedroom are the final push you need to climax.
With a loud cry, your hand shoots up to tangle on Hajime’s dark locks and pull harshly with every spasm of your walls. After ramming his cock a few more times, he pulls out as fast as possible and just as quickly, his cock releases hot spurts of cum over your folds.
You stay in that same position for some time. Your legs fall limp on the mattress, feeling all warm, numb and sicky. And Hajime’s arms maintain their place around your waist, refusing to let go like his life depended on it.
“I love you, Haji.” He nuzzles your cheek one more time before flipping you over to face him. Out of instinct you snuggle closer into his embrace with pure bliss. There’s no other place in the world where you could always feel as secure as in Hajime’s arms.
“I love you too…” He replies, suddenly rising from bed to hover above your figure with his arms around each side of your flushed face and his thighs trapping your legs in between. “But you didn’t really believe we were done...do you?”
With a smirk on his face, he spreads your legs one more time before pushing himself back inside your sensitive entrance, the push of his pelvis is enough to make you gasp and wrap your arms around his neck. You can hear the ruffle of the sheets where his hands cling to the fabric desperately.
“Oh we’re far from done. I’m not gonna let you leave this bed until the only thing you can think about is how much I love you.”
Tag list: @hawks-senseis @honeytama @savagetrickster @unbreakableeiji @wakaoujisenhime @fanfic-me-up @sailor-manga @shoutogepi @gr0vndz3ro @divinewhimsy @xplosiveboy @shinsotired
406 notes
·
View notes
Text
Oh look, another quick one-shot! This time, a quiet scene between Grian and Mumbo.
Read on AO3 or keep reading below
---
<Grian> Hey Mumbo
<Grian> Where are you?
The pinging of his communicator dragged Mumbo from his redstone-induced haze. He put down the stack of repeaters in his hands to ping the coordinates of this latest project back to Grian.
It was only a couple minutes before a burst of rockets could be heard from the sky above, followed shortly by a Grian swooping in to land with perfect ease amongst the mini chest monster that had sprung up beside Mumbo's contraption.
"Hey G," said Mumbo, noticing the lack of spark in Grian's eyes. "Everything alright?"
"Do you mind if I just sit and watch for a bit?" asked Grian, already starting to sit down in the grass amongst the shulker boxes.
"Of course not," said Mumbo.
"Thanks," said Grian, leaning back against a box as he drew his knees to his chest.
Mumbo gave Grian one last concerned look before turning back to his massive contraption.
He was almost finished the next module of the machine. He just needed to figure out the timings on these last few repeaters.
If this signal goes through there it should take 2 ticks. Which means that signal needs to take longer. Better make it 3 ticks total. Then that should trigger this one 2 ticks later. Yes, that should be right.
Mumbo stood back, taking in one last look at the wiring, crossed his fingers, and pulled the lever.
The whole module broke.
Mumbo sighed, walking back over to the machine. It looked like the second piston fired too early, causing it all to get out of sync. That means he had to add another tick of delay there and another there. That should do it.
Mumbo tore down the broken part of the contraption and started rebuilding with the required changes.
"How do you stay motivated to keep going when your redstone keeps failing?" asked a small voice from behind him.
"Trial and error is just part of redstoning," said Mumbo, turning to face Grian with a smile. "Or should I say trial and error, and error, and error, and error, and small success, and error, and error, and error."
"That sounds awful," said Grian.
"It's just part of the fun," said Mumbo, gesticulating with the spare pistons in his hands. "You expect things to fail, so you keep the bits you test as small as possible, and use the way it fails to figure out how to make it work next time. And then when it does finally all work, it's the best feeling ever!"
"I failed and now everyone hates me," said Grian suddenly, pulling his knees closer to his chest.
"Oh Grian," Mumbo said, putting down the spare components and walking over to sit down and hug his long arms around Grian's small body. "I'm sure they don't hate you."
"I messed up and now they're all mad at me and they keep sending messages about how I messed up and hurt them and I don't know what to do and I'm so sorry but I don't know how to fix it and..."
Grian's train of thought was cut off by a sob. Mumbo pulled him in closer as the floodgates broke open.
Grian buried his face in Mumbo's lapel. He knew he should be worried about ruining Mumbo's suit with his tears and snot, but, well, it's Mumbo. Mumbo doesn't care. Mumbo doesn't get angry. Mumbo's just so... Mumbo.
"What happened?" asked Mumbo gently, stroking Grian's hair as the stream of tears slowly let up.
"I made it all about me again," said Grian, voice slightly muffled by Mumbo's shoulder. "I put so much time into planning the whole thing, so much time into making sure everything would play out correctly and would make sure everyone had a good time, and the one time I ad libbed, it was on something entirely selfish and now everybody's mad at me. And they should be. I can't believe I broke from my plan."
"Have you said sorry yet?" asked Mumbo kindly.
"Haven't had the time," Grian replied. "The meeting ended and I got a half dozen private messages and I freaked out and came right here."
They sat together in silence as the cogs turned in Mumbo's brain.
"Is there a way to make the selfish thing apply to everyone?" Mumbo eventually said. "Then it won't be selfish anymore."
"I don't know," said Grian.
"Well," said Mumbo, pausing again to think, "could you ask the others how you could do that?"
"What do you mean?" asked Grian, looking up from Mumbo's shoulder.
"I mean, you always plan so much of everything by yourself, Grian," said Mumbo. "You don't have to do it all. If the others are the ones who've recognised the mistake, maybe they'll have an idea of how to fix it."
"But why would they want to help me after I just bungled everything?" asked Grian.
"Because it was one mistake, and because they're your friends," said Mumbo. "I mean, you said they private messaged you about the issue, right? It's not like they've locked you in the stocks outside Town Hall and started throwing rotten vegetables at you!"
Grian let out a small chuckle. "Not yet anyway," he said.
"So, why don't you message the group, say you're sorry, and ask how you can fix it?" said Mumbo.
Grian curled back into himself again. "Because I'm scared," he said. "What if things go wrong? What if I say something to make it even worse?"
"And pigs could fly in the next update," said Mumbo. "But we can deal with that problem when we get to it."
"Hasn't Zedaph already made pigs fly?" said Grian.
"He did what?!" said Mumbo.
"He shot them with shulkers I think," said Grian.
"That's ridiculous," Mumbo said with a smile. "Anyway, back on topic. Let's try writing that message, ok?"
Grian pulled out his communicator, temporarily set it to only send to himself, then hesitated.
"What if I send the message and it doesn't fix anything?" said Grian. "What if everyone still hates me?"
"Well, I don't hate you," said Mumbo. "I'll still be here. You're one of my best friends, G. Even if everything else falls apart, I'll always be here for you, ok?"
Grian nodded. He took a deep breath and pulled up his communicator again.
He typed out his message. Then edited it. Then edited it again. Then undid half his edits. Then fixed the 'to' line. Then hit send.
Then put the communicator back in his pocket and crossed his arms against his chest.
"Good work, Grian," said Mumbo with a smile, squeezing his fellow Hermit.
"I hate this," said Grian. "I hate the waiting. I've already thought of three better ways I could have worded that message."
His communicator pinged.
"I don't wanna look," said Grian.
"Take as much time as you need," said Mumbo.
His communicator kept pinging.
Grian took a deep breath, then another. He pulled open his communicator and looked at the screen.
And burst out crying.
"What happened?!" said Mumbo, alarmed.
"They... they accepted my apology," Grian said between sobs, smiling through his tears as he faced the small screen towards Mumbo. "They don't hate me."
Mumbo relaxed. "See, I told you so," he said warmly, squeezing the small Hermit again. Grian gently pushed him in retaliation.
"I can't believe they're all being so nice after I was so thoughtless," said Grian, trying to wipe away the tears with the sleeve of his jumper.
"Of course they're being nice," said Mumbo. "You made one mistake, and now you're trying to fix it. They know you're a good person, G. One mistake doesn't make you a failure."
"Thank you so much Mumbo," said Grian. "Just, thank you for being there and for being so... so Mumbo-y."
"Any time, G," said Mumbo. "You know I'll always be here for you, no matter what."
"Can I just stay here for a minute?" asked Grian, resting his head back against Mumbo's shoulder. "It's just... it's just all a lot."
"As long as you like," said Mumbo.
And so they sat there, as the sun set in the distance and the wind ruffled the grass around them, the half-built contraption throwing strange shadows across the ground. It wasn't working, yet, but it would be. It would be with a little bit more trial and error.
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gates Opened Wide
Part 10
Part 11 [CURRENT]
Part 12
DT: @petrichormeraki @applepie1000 @jump-in-the-cadillac @ivorylin
------------
“Clem, do not make me use your full name, big lass! Stand still! Damnit-”
“Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!”
“You learn how to speak more than usual, and you choose to copy my curse words, Jesus Christ. If you’re going to curse, then do it correctly. Now, hold still- hey! No hissing! You put those claws away! Clementine, stop shapeshifting!”
After spending an hour after “early breakfast,” Tommy had finally managed to dress the squealing girl for the day. It was on mornings like this that made him wish he would be on Theo duty, leaving Clem to be dressed by Fundy. But, alas, that day was not today. It took telling Clem that she would be wearing matching outfits with her cousin to convince the rascal to sit still long enough for Tommy to get her ready. She was nearly vibrating by the time Tommy added the finishing touches to her braided hair. Once he pulled his hands away from her small head, she hopped off the chair and run over to Fundy’s room, where Theo was getting ready. Sighing as he stood up, Tommy couldn’t help but laugh as he heard the bedroom door swing open with a slam, a squeaky voice squealing in sync with a happy yell, as well as a startled one. Shaking his head, Tommy finished fixing his hair, adjusting his collar in the process. Suddenly, the sound of the front door opening alerted him of their visitors. Sighing, he prepared for the quick force that would engulf him into a hug.
“There’s my baby of a brother!”
Tommy slightly cursed as he was nearly toppled over, only being saved by the winged embrace of his proud brother. He hugged his brother back, truly happy to see him excited for the day. The hug, however, lasted longer than their usual long hugs, which was causing Tommy to bite back a groan. His efforts, unfortunately, meant nothing, therefore he groaned as he playfully flailed his arms behind his brother’s back, who only held him tighter.
“Muuuuuuuum, Grian won’t stop squeezing me!!!”
A playful laugh rang through the air, serving as the only warning for the older brother. Before he could pull away, a nerf dart hit him square on the forehead. Welping in shock, Grian pulled away, patting his forehead, which was slightly more exposed than usual due to him fixing his hair in a proper manner. Tommy picked up the dart, laughing as he handed it back to a laughing Kristin, who’s curled hair bounced with every laugh.
“Grian, you’re going to wrinkle your shirt! We all spent all morning making ourselves presentable, don’t ruin it.”
“I’m not going to ruin it, we still have the gala at the end of the week to look our best! I am, however, gonna have a red dot on my forehead now.”
“Oh, no you’re not. Stop crying over nonsense, you big baby.”
“How am I the baby, when Tommy is standing right there”
“Oi, shut the fuck up, fucker”
“Don’t make me shove a bar of soap in your mouth”
After everyone was finally dressed and ready to go, they pulled the two kids aside. After they had succeeded in obtaining the children’s attention for more than a minute, Tommy spoke up.
“Alright, you two, listen up. Today is the day that a lot of people are going to be here. Remember to stick with us, and don’t talk to shifty shitheads you don’t know, got it?”
“Sh-”
“Do not finish that word, Clementine”
“Humph”
“Anyways, remember the secret spots? Well, if you get separated from us, stick together and go the the secret passageways if you two get in danger, okay? You two know your way around, I know you do. Just stick together, take care of each other, and have fun, alright?”
“Mkay, Uncle T”
“Good. Now, Theo, your father made a device for both you and Clem. Fundy, if you will.”
The man nodded as he knelt down to the level of the children. Smiling, he opened up his paws, revealing two pretty bracelets. Decorating them were various colors of gems. As he put them on their wrists, he explained how to use them.
“Don’t tell anyone that isn’t from this server, or isn’t the lovely trio or Stampy about these, okay? These are connected to all our communicators. If, for whatever reason you can’t use your communicators to contact us, you can use these. Each of these are connected to a singular communicator, see? This gem represents me, this one represents Tommy, this one is Uncle Grian, and this one is Grandma Kristin! I also labeled the other ones, so you know who you’re contacting. There’s Tubbo, Lani, Stampy, Drista, Iskall, Xisuma, Stress, Impulse-”
“I think they get it, Fundy. We can’t spend the entire day naming everyone.”
“I wouldn’t take the entire day! Anyways, this is how you’ll reach to us without anyone knowing. If you push the big gems on the middle, everyone is alerted and Xisuma will teleport to you. Don’t take them off, okay?”
“Mkay”
“Yes, Papa”
“Good. Ready to go?”
The adults laughed as the children switched from serious to excited within seconds. Taking the hands of the excited children, the family went on their way.
--------
Tommy stood at the entrance of his park, his family by his side. The Hermits helped him in putting up a wall around the park, shielding every detail from the eyes of the public. Today was finally the day of his opening, and he was excited. Maybe a little nervous, but mostly excited. Sighing in relief, he smiled as three figures approached him. Opening his arms, he welcomed the warm hug that came with Tubbo’s greeting.
“Tubbo!”
“Tommy!”
“We’re here too, y’know.”
“Lani! Oh, hey, Drista-”
“Hey!”
The four of them laughed as Stampy joined them, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. Handing the bouquet to Tommy, he couldn’t help but remark about how excited he was.
“-And look at all of you! Oh! You all look lovely and dapper! Everyone from my server is here to show our support! We came super early to beat the crowds! Look at us! Getting the best seats to the opening! I’m going to go gather the rest of my server, do excuse me. We’ll be back to start the crowd!”
Clementine and Theo waved enthusiastically as the neighboring server admin waved, walking away as he let to find the rest of his friends. Smiling, Tommy handed the bouquet to the children, who held it with gentle care. Despite being rowdy and loud together, anything from Stampy could reduce the two the silent happiness. This was always a relief to the adults, who, even though were rowdy as well, could not catch a break with the bouncing toddlers.
“Big day, isn’t it?”
“Oh, you know it is.”
Everyone continued to converse as they attempted to pass the time. Halfway through their conversation, a cheerful voice, which belonged to Impulse, sounded through the communicators.
“Gates are opening, crowd control is being initiated.”
“On it, thank you.”
Gulping, Tommy accepted the words of encouragement that came from his family and friends as they made their way off the stage, joining the rest of Stampy’s server at the front of the crowd, which was now slowly growing as more people trickled in. Stepping behind the curtains that flowed slightly in the cool breeze, Tommy recalled the conversation he had earlier.
------
“And then I call you each on stage to help me with the unveiling.”
“That’s a great idea, Tommy”
“Thanks, Tubzo”
“You want me to help? Are you sure?”
“Yes, Fundy, I want you to help. You are my nephew, which makes you family.”
“Even us?”
“Yes, Theo, even you and Clem. There is one concern, though...”
“What is it?”
“What if Dream’s server comes? I can’t just force you guys up there-”
“Uncle, it’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. X made it so that the guests can’t harm or maim us outside of the dueling areas. Even then, they can’t do much.”
“But, Fundy, what about Dream-”
“It’s like you said, Tommy, we’re family.”
------
Tommy’s communicator snapped him out of his thoughts. Peering down, he saw that Xisuma had sent a private message to him.
XisumaVoid: The stage mics will turn on in a minute. Once the timer hits 30 seconds, the machine will play Pigstep in the background. Good luck, you got this
Tommy sent a quick message of acknowledgment and appreciation back to the admin, quickly adjusting his shirt and fixing his hair. Taking deep breaths, he hyped himself up as Pigstep began to play in the speakers, causing the hermits and lovely’s to cheer, initiating the rest of the guests to follow in suit. Inhaling a deep breath, Tommy released the air as he gave a nice, charming smile as the curtains opened, revealing him and the crowd to each other. Doing his best not to break his professionalism, he bit back a laugh as he heard Iskall’s voice overpowering everyone else’s”
“GO TOMMY!!! LOOK AT HIM GO, THAT’S OUR BOY!!!”
Waving to the crowd before him, he allowed his eyes to hover over the crowd, taking note of the faces before him. His friends and family, of course, were situated before everyone else in the crowd, the members of Stampy’s server behind them. The Hermits were scattered about, helping disperse the energy whilst being some form of security for opening day. Then, he spotted them. There, stood near the center of the crowd, stood the members of the Dream SMP, both old and new. He couldn't tell who was all there, solely because he did his best not to alert them that he knew they were there. Making eye contact with his nephew, he silently plead for guidance on what to do. Fundy, who understood the meaning behind the look, gave his uncle a nod of encouragement. Readjusting his smile, Tommy cleared his throat as the music slowly deafened, leaving only his voice to speak above everyone else.
“Welcome! I’m about to do something really fucking annoying, but this server and the neighboring server finds it hilarious. That being said, CAN I GET A HUMINA IN THE CHAT???”
Laughter filled the large crowd as Hermits and Lovely’s alike began chanting the word, over and over again. They died down once Tommy let out a genuine laugh, making his friends smile. Clearing his throat, he spoke up again.
“Ahah, I apologize for that. It’s kinda of a tradition we have when I do productive shit around here. Anyways! Welcome everybody to the grand opening of my park, ‘Innit an Adventure?’! I genuinely want to welcome and thank you all for coming to celebrate such a special day for us Hermits and Lovely’s alike. When I first began this ambitious project, I did so to cope with my trauma. When words failed to express my emotions, I turned to building. That, in itself is saying something. I mean it, ask any of the Hermits here, they’ll tell you. I was a little shit with shittier building abilities. But they didn’t give up on me, and I eventually became able to create this wonderful world on my own. Know that if you are in a rough place, help is available almost anywhere. If, at any point today, any of you feel overwhelmed or panicky, we have designated panic rooms designed to help calm your nerves. The new pamphlets you all received upon entering the portal show not only the map, but a key that will point you to certain points, like the panic rooms. As much as I want this place to be a fun place for all, I want it to be a safe space, too.”
Peering over to the front, he was encouraged to continue when Clementine waved in a hyper manner to him. Letting out a chuckled, Tommy continued.
“Although I managed to create this myself, I couldn’t have made it to this point without the support from my fellow Hermits.”
He initiated a round of applause as every member of Hermitcraft stood up and waved, some teasing Tommy. Rolling his eyes, he waved them off as he pretended to walk off. Laughing as he stood back on his spot, he gave a genuine smile.
“No, seriously. They had to deal with the little shit that is me, and they did so wonderfully. They guided me through, what I thought, was impossible to guide me through. Truly, thank you. I would also like to thank the lovely trio of terror. When I fell into this world, quite literally, I was scared about where my friends could be, especially my best friend. Luckily, I soon found out what happened to him. Please welcome to the stage, these three headaches that I call my close friends, Tubbo Underscore, Lani Sky Underscore, and Drista Never Taken!”
Applause filled the air as the three lovely’s walked up stage, waving to the crowd. Wearing their matching outfits, Tubbo and Lani stood on either side of Tommy. Drista, who had worn a cleaner version of her mask, stood on Lani’s other side. As the applause died down, Tommy smiled at his friends as his cheerful voice sprung up.
“Hello!”
“Hi!”
“Hello, everyone!”
“After discovering where they were and that they were okay, my mental state improved greatly. They have inspired so many prizes and attractions in this park, which only proves that they have done so much good for me, even when I didn’t deserve it. I also have some amazing family to thank. Let’s start with an amazing, strong woman, who has an even more amazing aim. Please welcome to the stage, my mother! Kristin Minecraft!”
As the trio took a step back, Kristin handed Clem over to Stampy, who happily accepted the giddy girl. Making her way to the stage, she embraced Tommy, giving him a kiss on the forehead as he lowered his head to her, already expecting it. Hugging him one last time, she joined the trio as Tommy spoke of her.
“The way I found her was quite amusing. She really is a lifesaver, thank fucking god for her. Although I didn’t have her around while I was growing up, due to her disappearing before I was even around, she has done more than enough for me, more than I could ever ask for. She truly is an amazing mother and woman. Go Mumza! Go Motherinnit!”
Laughter erupted from the crowd as Kristin gently smacked him upside the head. Although it didn’t hurt, he still cringed as he peered down at her.
“What was that for?”
“You’re being too sweet, only to revert to your rambling. Stay on track.”
“Yes, Mumza.”
As she nodded in approval, Kristin made her way back to the trio, who were openly laughing at their friend. Grumbling, Tommy faced the crowd once more.
“Not only is he friend and a fellow Hermit, he is my brother. Quite literally. Give a big hand for my big brother! Grian- HEY, WHAT THE FUCK, MAN”
He heard his friends and family laugh as Grian opened his wings, rushing forward in the air towards his little brother. Picking him up, Grian hugged his brother before plopping him back on the stage in a less than graceful manner. Dusting himself off, Tommy couldn’t help but pretend to whine.
“What’s up with you assholes, and Mumza. Is it embarrass TommyInnit day???”
He could only muffle a handful of curses as Grian shrugged, a cheeky smile forming on his face. Shooting a smile of his own towards Grian, gave his brother a playful punch.
“When I first arrived, Grian and I bounced off each other perfectly. We fit together, like brothers and shit. Turns out, much to my surprise, we were brothers. Crazy, right? I was like, holy shit, oh my-”
“Tommy”
“-right, sorry. Anyways, Grian was a brother that I had lost at a young age, too young to fully remember much about him. You could say the stars aligned in perfect order to allow me to reunite with him.”
Snickers could be heard from the Hermits and Lovely’s, catching the implications that came with Tommy’s words. Shaking his head, he cleared his throat, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He could practically hear Fundy’s groans from where he stood. Using the anticipated embarrassment of his nephew, Tommy let out a booming voice for the next sentence.
“Everyone, give a hand for my fucking amazing, brilliant nephew, Fundy! Look at him go! Such speed! Amazing!”
Fundy hurried up the stares, a murderous look in his eyes. Once he was near his uncle, he smacked his arm.
“You just had to be theatrical with my introduction, didn’t you?”
“Just for you, Fundy”
“Oh, don’t play that card with me, Uncle.”
Scratching in between his nephew’s ears, Tommy put an arm around him, keeping him beside him, instead of with the others.
“Fundy is a brilliant and intelligent man full of love. He is very passionate about family and his projects, and has a brain that flows with all this smart and creative shit. Although I had completed the park, he came in and showed me ways to improve and add on to it. He has truly been an amazing help to me, and I couldn’t have done some of the things I did without him beside me. Speaking of having someone to stand beside him, I’d like to welcome Fundy’s pride and joy to the stage. Please give a kind and genuine welcome to my great nephew, Fundy’s son, Theo!”
Fundy knelt down with open arms as his son ran up the steps to the stage. Theo couldn’t help but giggle as Fundy lifted him into his arms. Smiling, Theo leaned over to give Tommy a hug, his small paws papping his great uncle’s face.
“Hi, Uncle T”
“Hey, big man”
Theo giggled once more as Tommy ruffled his hair. Curling his tail around his father’s arm, Theo gave the crowd a toothy smile as Fundy stood behind Tommy, situating himself between Grian and Kristin. Once the crowd regained their attention towards their main host, they noticed how he seemed to glow. To them, it was most likely dismissed by the sunlight. To those who knew of Clara, however, knew that it was her warmth, holding his head up in pride.
“And finally, last but certainly not least, the final member of my family. Please, put your hands together for my magnificent moth, my beautiful butterfly. Please welcome, my Clementine.”
The crowd was a mix of applauding and worried gasps as Clem, being the gremlin she was, chose to not use the stairs. Instead, wanting chaos, she had decided to climb the beams. As people began to panic, the people on stage, as well as the Hermits and Lovely’s laughed. Tommy rolled his eyes as he extended his arms. Smiling, he called up to the troublemaker.
“Marco!”
“Polo!”
Clementine laughed as she jumped straight into Tommy’s arms. Once he safely caught her, she began squealing as she frantically moved her hands from clapping and waving. Once he assured the crowd that she was being watched by the Hermits and would have been safely taken down if she was in danger, everyone was ready for the reveal. Giggling as she loosely wrapped her arms around Tommy’s neck, Clem pointed to the stand in the center. Making incoherent excited noises, she and Theo began to wiggle out of their guardian’s arms, racing towards it as soon as their little feet touched the ground. Pulling themselves up, they revealed a lever. And as everyone on stage put their hands on the lever, they all nodded to Tommy. Taking a breath, said man smiled as he and his close ones pulled the lever. The sound of Redstone filled the air as the wall surrounded the park began to disappear into the ground.
“Everyone! I, Thomas Theseus Minecraft, welcome you all to ‘Innit an Adventure?’!”
They were all greeted by the loud cheers of guests as the gates opened wide.
#memories in the stars au#memories in the stars#hermit!tommy au#hermit!fundy#hermit!Tommy fankid#fwt fankid theo#kristin minecraft#Mumza#Grian is Tommy's brother pog#hermit!Kristin
220 notes
·
View notes
Text
when you love someone [leah rilke]
leah rilke x fem reader
request #1: Ahhhhh I love your Leah x reader series!!! It’s so good :) I know you have a bunch of requests but would you consider doing a part four where Leah and her are sitting up one night and the reader confesses shares more about her past, maybe something darker (like knowing the reason that Becca died, but she doesn’t blame Shelby) and that she never wants to leave Leah once they get home and they fantasize their future together. The other girls overhear and also share what they want to do when they get home. Lots of fluff because the girls deserve it, lol
hi guys! i love this series so much, honestly it’s one of my favorite ones to write! so as long as you guys keep requesting for this series to keep going and ideas for it, it’ll keep going! so if you love this series as much as i do keep requesting for it! also i have a lot of imagines queued up so stay tune!
*not my gif*
You were sat in between Leah’s legs, her arms wrapped around you. Her front pressed against your back as her head hooked onto your shoulder. You relax into her touch, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“What was life like back home?” she asks you, breaking the comfortable silence.
You shrug, staring back out at the ocean, “Um not the greatest. It was really me and Shelby against the world.”
“What about that Becca girl you and Shelby always mention? Weren’t you like the three musketeers?” Leah asks jokingly, but your whole mood seems to change, “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“No it’s okay, really. I trust you enough to tell you.” you say and she tightens her arms around you, giving you a soft squeeze.
Before you go on with your story, you kiss her softly. And a small smile appears on her face as the two of you pull away.
You let out a sigh, “You were right it was always me, Shelby, and Becca against the world. The three musketeers. But anyone with eyes can tell that me and Shelby were closer.”
“This is terrible!” you exclaim, your face contorting into disgust as you pushed the 7/11 hot dog away from you.
“I can’t believe you ate that!” Shelby adds on, pretending to gag.
Becca picks up the hot dog from the hood of your car, casually taking a bite, “It’s not that bad!” she says with a mouthful of gas station hot dog.
“Eww Becs!” you and Shelby say in unison, before laughing at how the two of you were in sync.
“Reputation was big at our school. If you didn’t have a good reputation, you might as well fall off the edge of the Earth. If you couldn’t tell, Shelby and I were the top of the social food chain. Popular, pretty, everything all the girls wanted to be.” you say.
“Ah, you had the classic typical movie high school.” Leah says, trying to get a better grasp on the story, “I’m assuming Becca didn’t have the best rep.”
You nod, still staring out at the big blue, “You assume correctly. She had a few mental health problems. Her parents sent her away for a little bit and it was this big uproar at the school. When she came back me and Shelby never loved her less. At the time though, I didn’t quite know the extent of how much Shelby actually loved her.”
“Wait so Shelby had feelings for Becca?” she asks.
“Mhm, that’s what caused the downfall.”
“Hey Shelb? Are you okay?” you ask her softly, you were driving her home after bowling with your two best friends.
She just looks at you with a tight-lipped smile, “Yeah...I’m okay.”
You give her a look and raise your eyebrows, “Why do I not believe you?”
“Because you worry about me too much.” she says, mocking the look you were giving her.
“I only worry when I have a reason. You’ve been quiet since we trashed the car. You didn’t even sing ‘The Climb’ with me.” you shoot back, staring at her seriously.
“I’m okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Shelby says, giving you a hug before heading inside.
“I didn’t find out about their kiss until later. When Shelby came to me crying, the last time the two ever spoke.” you continue onto through your sob story.
There was a frantic knock on your front door. You were home alone watching Criminal Minds, so you were a little taken a back at the pounding at your door. You open the door just a tiny bit, peeking through the little hole you created.
Shelby was standing on your porch, pacing back and forth. Tears streaming down her face. You immediately open the door wider and she crashes into your arms.
“I’m ruined, everything is ruined.” she whispers softly.
You run your fingers through her hair, “Shh...it’s gonna be okay. Whatever it is we’re gonna be okay. I promise.”
“That night she told me everything. She didn’t want to admit to herself or anyone else, but with me it was like a truth serum. All of it just spilt out, her feelings for Becca. Her feelings for girls in general.” you let out another sigh.
“Why was it a big deal?” Leah asks, hesitantly, knowing it’s a bad topic.
You let out an empty laugh, “If you met our parents you would know why.”
“Y/N come down here!” your parents yell from downstairs.
You skip your way down the stairs and into the kitchen, “Yes?”
“Mr. Goodkind told us about Shelby and Becca.” they begin and you swallow tightly, “We wanted to make sure Shelby didn’t do anything like that to you. Or make sure you didn’t do anything to her.”
“No I haven’t and why would it matter if I did or if she did?” you retort and your parents look a little taken aback by that comment.
“You know why, the Bible says-” your parents say, giving you a look.
Internally you roll your eyes, “People deserve to love who they want without being judged. God loves everyone, no matter what they do. That’s what you always taught me right? Not to carry hate in your heart?” you say and your father opens his mouth, but you keep going, “But you're gonna stand her and carry hate in your heart for Shelby when you don’t even know what happened.”
“Y/N...is there something you’d like to tell us?” your mother asks.
You wanted to tell them. Just blurt it out. Maybe you and Shelby could be burnt at the stake together, but you just gave a tight-lipped smile.
“No.”
“So I’m not gonna win daughter in-law of the year.” Leah says jokingly and you laugh, thankful for the laugh in a serious conversation.
“Definitely not.” you respond, still chuckling to yourself.
“Damn...but proceed onto the story.” she says, gesturing for you to continue.
“That day, the day that Becca died I was at Shelby’s pageant. I sat with her awful parents. Who were finally okay with me being there, after a long conversation between them and my parents.” you say rolling your eyes.
Leah tightened her arms around you, probably sensing that this would take a turn. She hooked her head back on your shoulder, kissing your cheek softly. You smile softly at her sweet antics.
“Mrs. Gilroy?” you ask, stepping out of the little theater.
You could hear little sniffles on the other end of line, “Oh Y/N. Becca...she’s dead. I found her in her car, she purposefully crashed it into a street light. We called 911 and rushed her to the hospital, but she uh she didn’t make it.”
And you just dropped your phone onto the floor. Before falling softly to your knees. Frantically, picking up the phone. Tears streaming down your face at the news.
“Do you need anything Mrs. Gilroy? I’m sorry-I’m sorry you have to go through this.” you ask, trying your best to stay strong.
“We’re okay for now honey, thank you. But she left you and Shelby notes. You can swing by and grab them.” she suggests and you knew she wanted you to have them.
“Okay. I’ll be over later tonight.”
You rushed your way into the contestant’s dressing room. Desperate to find Shelby to let her know the news. When you found her, she was staring blankly at herself at the mirror. Someone already told her.
“Shelby?” you say, you voice barely above a whisper.
Her head immediately turns to you and she gets up from her seat, rushing towards you. Flinging herself into your arms, she buried her face into the crook of your neck. You could feel the tears fall upon your neck as your cheeks were stained with your own.
“She can’t be gone.” Shelby sobbed out and you shut your eyes tight, shaking your head softly.
“But she is love...she’s gone.”
“I got 31 calls from Becca that night. If I just-if I just answered one phone call. She could still be here right now. She’d be at home, practicing her bowling so she could kick me and Shelby’s ass when we got home.” you say, a small tear slipping down your cheeks.
“You can’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault.” Leah reassures you and you nod, swallowing to choke back the tears.
You take your hand and wipe off the tears that were falling, “I know. But I don’t blame Shelby either. I couldn’t, maybe this new me would, but the old me couldn’t. Her parents would have done anything to stop her from feeling that way. Her reputation would be shot. And in a small town like ours, that’s a death sentence.”
“Is that why you want to save everyone?” she asks, finally understanding everything, “Because you couldn’t save Becca?”
You nod, “I can’t lose anyone else. Especially Shelby and you.”
“What’s gonna happen when we get back to the real world? With us?” she asks you.
“I’m not the girl I was before I came here. I’ve learned that reputation and what other people of you doesn’t matter anymore. It’s not gonna matter in the long run. So I don’t want to leave your side.” you tell her, turning around to be face to face with her.
She cups your cheeks softly, “Baby, we live miles and miles away from each other.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want to be apart from you. We could have our own little apartment with Shelby and Toni and probably Martha.” you suggest to her and she smiles widely, “Breakfasts every morning, but don’t ask Shelby to cook she’s shit at it.”
Leah laughs softly, “It’s okay I can cook. Double dates all the time, playing UNO with Martha. Lazy mornings, twisted in bedsheets.”
“Reading together in bed quietly before bed.” you add on and she smiles and nods.
“Our perfect life.”
“Fuck you Y/N, you suck at cooking more than I do.” Shelby’s voice cuts in from her spot next to me.
You and Leah both jump at her voice. Thinking that you two were the only ones awake.
“Would we really all live with each other?” Toni asks, “I don’t want to hear Y/N and Leah go at it.”
“Us? You two literally did it under a lychee tree not too far from here.” you say firing back at Toni’s snarky remark.
“You told her about that?” Toni asks, looking at her girlfriend incredulously.
Shelby looks down at her hands, smiling coyly, “Maybe.” she says drawing out the ‘e’.
“I guess if Leah’s cooking, I’ll be fine.” Toni replies with a shrug.
“I’d love to move in with you guys too!” Martha says, “But only if Marcus could come. And we play UNO at least twice a week.”
“Is everyone awake?” Leah asks, staring at all the girl.
A murmur of yes’s fill the previous silence.
“I want to get out of my house, you know? My parents aren’t the greatest either. Maybe we could be next door neighbors!” Fatin suggests, “If any of the couples need privacy, you ladies could hop over next door.”
“I don’t think it’ll be much better with all the guys you’ll bring home.” you joke and Faitn flips you off with a smile on her face.
Dot nods in agreement, “That would be so fun! Pizza nights and watching trashy reality TV every night.”
“Roomates?” Fatin asks, extending her hand out to Dot.
“Roomates.”
“Do you guys mind adding two more roommates?” Rachel asks and Nora nods smiling.
“Of course.” Dot says with a smile.
“Yay neighbors!!” Shelby yells and all of us laugh softly.
Toni playfully rolls her eyes, “I’m not escaping any of you ever, huh?”
“Nope!” the rest of you girls say in somewhat unison, laughing together.
145 notes
·
View notes
Text
New Year’s Day
Timari January Day 1 - New Years Day
@timari-month-event
Note: Happy New Year everyone!! This fic is loosely based off of New Year’s Day by Taylor Swift.
There's glitter on the floor after the party
Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby
Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor
You and me from the night before but
Don't read the last page
But I stay when you're lost and I'm scared and you're turning away
I want your midnights
But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day
“Mmph.” Marinette tried and failed to muffle her tired groan through the thick fabric of Tim’s coat.
It was 2:00 a.m. on New Year’s, and the designer was just about ready to go into hibernation.
Steph had prompted (read: bugged) Bruce into throwing a party, and he eventually complied. It was relatively small and nowhere near as extravagant as the annual Wayne Gala, but one could argue that was a good thing. There was no need to uphold a reputation or make conversation with stuffy rich people, after all. Judging by the rambunctious behavior that had occurred all night, the restricted guest list definitely seemed like a good thing.
Naturally, Marinette was invited—she was Tim’s girlfriend, although it was arguable she was part of the family regardless of her relationship with him.
Her closeness to the rest of the Waynes was evident in the way she was immediately pulled away for some “girl time” upon entering the manor. Similarly, Dick and the rest of the boys stole Tim away for brotherly bonding.
They chatted, played games, ate cake, and eventually joined the rest of the family for the countdown. Joyous shouts and yells filled the manor, and Marinette stole a kiss from Tim when the clock hit midnight.
The party didn’t stop there, though; from then on, it was drinking games and group activities. Well, drinking games for everyone but Damian. He received a glass of sparkling grape juice instead. He wasn’t very happy about being “treated like a baby,” according to his words, but Marinette took her own glass of the substitute and joined him. She had some important designs to work on tomorrow, and she really didn’t want to wake up with a hangover.
After a while, people started going their separate ways again. Some couples had taken to a room in order to ring in the new year together; others decided to split up into groups and do other activities. Dick dragged Marinette to the gym to show her a cool gymnastics trick he had devised, and the rest of the night was spent hopping rooms to find people and make conversation.
The excitement couldn’t last forever, though, and soon enough the adrenaline started to wear. After an obvious change in the atmosphere, Marinette decided to wander the manor in search of Tim.
She scoured far and wide but failed to find him in the unnecessarily large residence. Rather than continue to wander aimlessly, she decided to wait in one spot until he found her. Sending a text would have been more logical, but her brain didn’t seem to be functioning correctly through its tired haze.
Now, Marinette was standing in the middle of the Wayne Manor living room. The din of celebration had long faded, leaving way for a relatively undisturbed silence. The area bustling with movement just hours earlier was now empty, aside from her and Jason, who was passed out on the couch. She couldn’t tell whether it was from drowsiness or alcohol consumption.
“You tired?”
Marinette yelped softly at the person who had sneaked up behind her. She whirled around, startled, and met Tim’s face. He was mid-laugh, no doubt finding amusement in her reaction. She crossed her arms and pouted, but she really was glad to see him.
Marinette had only spent a few fleeting moments with him that night; she hadn’t really had the chance due to his siblings whisking her away at every opportunity. She didn’t mind—the rest of the Waynes were fun to be around. Maybe a little too fun, because now she was absolutely exhausted.
She fell into Tim’s arms with ease and buried her face in his neck, nodding in response to his initial question.
“Let’s go, then.”
Marinette smiled, pulling back to grab his hand. She nearly started walking, but paused and frowned at the living room.
There were streamers strewn across the floor, alongside metallic confetti, glitter, and glass bottles. Board game pieces were thrown in a haphazard pile, and there was a half-eaten cake on the table. It was one of many. The two Marinette baked had disappeared remarkably fast, but Stephanie had bought a large one from the supermarket as well.
“We should help clean up.”
Tim’s brow furrowed as he considered her statement.
“It’s fine. You didn’t make this mess anyway.”
“Just because I didn’t make it doesn’t mean I can’t help! Besides, you’re not going to let Alfred clean all this up, are you?”
“Actually, Bruce would make the rest of the family help. But you’re right.”
“I’m always right.”
Tim rolled his eyes at her antics before giving her a peck on the lips. Marinette smiled and gave him an even longer kiss in return, arms snaking around to rest on his waist.
He reciprocated, but to her dismay, gently pushed her away after a minute.
“I thought you said you wanted to clean?”
Now it was Marinette’s turn to roll her eyes.
“Yeah, yeah.”
The two moved forward to gather the various things littered around, trying their best to be quiet so as not to disturb the body draped over the couch.
Cleaning up bottles together after a New Year’s party probably wasn’t what one would consider romantic or fun, but Marinette wouldn’t trade this for the world.
You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi
I can tell that it's going to be a long road
I'll be there if you're the toast of the town babe
Or if you strike out and you're crawling home
Marinette yawned for the millionth time that night, hands flying up to rub at her eyes tiredly.
She could feel Tim’s chest rumble as he chuckled, and she relished in the heat his body provided.
Although the back of a sketchy Gotham taxi was a far cry from her ideal cuddling place, she couldn’t complain—the chilly weather gave her an excuse to stay close to him. Marinette leaned back, snuggling deeper into her boyfriend’s chest.
She startled at the brief warmth atop her head as he pressed a kiss on her crown. The designer melted at the sweet gesture and turned around, twisting her body to meet Tim’s ice-blue eyes. He smiled at her tenderly, a genuine one she loved seeing on his face, and she sent back a nose wrinkle in return.
He let out a silent laugh at her antics and lifted their intertwined hands, giving them a kiss. This boy was going to break her if he kept being so charming.
He leaned forward and rubbed their noses together in an eskimo kiss before giving her a peck on the lips.
Marinette nearly whined at his show of affection. The things he did to her.
She turned back around, but only halfway, so her side was laying against Tim rather than her back like before. She would have kissed him again, but she doubted either of them wanted to be caught making out by the taxi driver.
Closing her eyes, she let herself relax, knowing she was safe in Tim’s arms. And when he squeezed her hand one, two, three times, she squeezed right back.
I love you.
Don't read the last page
But I stay when it's hard or it's wrong or you're making mistakes
I want your midnights
But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day
“Wait here.”
Marinette tilted her head in confusion as Tim quickly walked away, leaving her standing in the middle of their living room.
The two had just gotten home to their shared apartment and set their thing down. After an exhausting night, what more could he have planned?
Her questions were answered when Tim rushed back into the room, Bluetooth speaker in hand. It was pink, the one Marinette used to play music whenever she was baking. Sometimes Tim would join in, and they’d twirl around in the kitchen and laugh, spatula in hand.
She watched as he pulled out his phone and tapped the screen a few times; seconds later, a delicate melody filtered through the speaker. It was a slow tune—not one she recognized, but the piano notes made for a romantic and dreamy sound.
“May I have this dance?”
Marinette turned to see Tim bent forward at the waist, one arm outstretched like a Disney prince ready to sweep her away. She giggled at his cheesiness and placed her hand in his.
He pulled her forward smoothly, his other arm finding its way around her waist in a classic waltz position.
They stepped off and moved in sync with the music, slowly but surely. Although she wasn’t the best dancer, Tim made it effortless. They glided over the living room floor so smoothly that Marinette felt like a princess at a ball.
It was their own little bubble of bliss, and she could stay there forever, lost in the moment, lost in Tim’s eyes.
And oh, his eyes. She loved all of him, but there was something she adored so much about them. Maybe it was the determined twinkle present whenever he had figured something out, or the happy glint they assumed when he laughed, or the way they softened ever so slightly whenever he looked at her.
Marinette smiled and joined both hands behind his neck. Tim caught on quickly and circled both arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his body. She closed her eyes and tucked her head under his chin, swaying side to side with the music.
They both had a lot of things to do tomorrow, but right now the rest of the world didn’t matter. It was just Marinette and Tim—her best friend, her partner, her world—and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
PERMANENT TAGLIST
@avengerthewarrior
@bluesimani
@enternalempires
@flower-girll
@freesportspalacesalad
@glastwime859
@h1sss
@heart-charming
@jalaluvsu
@nathleigh
@too0bsessedformyowngood
107 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Final Day’‘
This is absolutely going to be long and rambley af so I’mma just put a cut here. This is just one massive post for the entire rest of the game.
Rindo is back in the RG somehow. Which makes less than no sense. What was that crazy beam. Shibuya is GONE there isn’t an RG to send him back to, even if someone did want to send him back?
That beam reminded me of the Jesus beams not gonna lie.
But… Fret. Presumably Nagi and Beat too. They’re. Gone. Poor Rindo… That’s the worst kind of gaslighting. Reality itself is gaslighting this poor kid. ‘Your best friend in the world is gone, so gone that no one remembers him. You don’t even get to mourn properly because there is no one TO mourn.’ I am also not okay.
I assume this random talking to us at Hachiko is the dude I saw a brief glimpse of in a screenshot from the final trailer. Hazuki Mikagi, okay. Everything about this is supremely weird.
Leading this weirdo around and he asked how we feel about emotions? Um, what?
Was he responsible for that beam of light?
This whole thing is extremely unsettling, I don’t think I like it. The music is all… serene, this guy keeps asking existential questions, who even comes up to some kid clearly having a bad day and demands a tour of the city.
He knows Rindo’s name even though we never told him. Not sure if that was a slip or an intentional nudge that Something is going on but there we go.
‘I should take this chance to apologize for Kubo. He’s a real piece of work.’ WHAT. YOU SEND HIM TO SHINJUKU?!?! IS THIS KID GOD!? WHAT!??!
‘Exorcised’. Like a demon. Which is a psychic rank you can get in the first game, and probably this game, ergo, a thing that exists in this universe.
Okay. So this Hazuki guy is Something Else. I dunno if he’s an Angel or higher or WHAT. He’s something. And he “exorcised” what Fuckwad had Fallen to when he decided not to stop at Shinjuku and continue on to Shibuya. But he only did this after Rindo faught so hard to stop it. And then he gave Rindo what he thought Rindo wanted. And now he’s here trying to understand why Rindo is miserable. Which to us, as humans, is obvious: the people he loved, the connections and family he had made through the game are all gone and worse, no one remembers they ever existed.
And now he’s being offered the chance to try again. This feels like a double edged sword. And I don’t care.
Okay I actually kind of appreciate the thing Hazuki is pulling here. He knows what it is that Rindo wants, I’m pretty sure he’s listening to his thoughts, actually, and in order to make Rindo own up to it he’s arguing the ‘no’ position. Giving Rindo someone to argue against so he can convince himself.
WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAPPEN AT UDAGAWA.
Bruh some of these clips were in the announcement trailer.
(I can’t wait to read the secret reports. That’s gonna be a wild ride.)
Oooooh that’s what ‘exorcised’ means. That is hardcore. He definitely deserved it but that is uh. Slightly inconvenient.
Can we actually contact Rhyme this time PLEASE. Oooh Rindo worked out Kaie is waiting for Rhyme. :O I’M FINALLY GONNA GET MY MASSIVE COUNTER OFFENSIVE FUCK YES. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH I’M PUMPED LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOO!!!!
Who’s gonna protect them. Beat. Really. Just give them the damn pins at this point. They both know their ways around a fight and Kaie might need the backup. If we lose, we’re all toast regardless, and if we win everyone gets put back where they belong.
AAAAAAAAAAAH SHE’S HERE!!! RHYME!!!! Aw… She can’t see Neku and Shoka cuz they’re actually dead. That’s really depressing. Makes sense but like. Oof. Especially for Neku.
I love that Rhyme still has a saying for everything.
This timeline is going to be a mess by the time I get everything positioned correctly lmao
Beat’s ‘How do you know about my sister?! Right, future.’ is never going to NOT be funny. It’s very refreshing to have a time travel plot where people just listen when he tells them shit needs to happen.
Is it acutaly Shiki time ohh my god. I might cry. Please tell me she has a face now. If her face is still illegal I will actually scream.
I’m offended. We didn’t get to go see Shiki. The betrayal. OH but now we might be? Stop playing with me, game. GIVE. ME. SHIKI.
Rindo was freaking out that we weren’t gonna be able to get rid of all the Noise around the café and I definitely threw my hands up and yelled when I saw the word ‘zeptogram’. And I read it before he said it, cuz I read v. fast. Nice to see you again, idiot. Please don’t go berserk again.
I am. Very impressed that Minamimoto managed to work out where the Dissonance Noise are coming from, down to the exact energy source that creates them. He nailed it. Well done sir.
I think… he’s proposing we awaken the city and use the energy generated by the thoughts and emotions of the living people to neutralize some of the Dissonance Noise that are waiting in the pin. Erode some of its power.
“How about this: I’ll talk, you type.” Lmao.
I got denied Shiki again. Part of me is annoyed. The other part of me is like ‘are they saving her entrance for when she can see Neku again properly because I can live with that’.
OH the Hishima cutscene is voiced now OKAY. Guess that means this is the one. Rhyme is voiced too. This is gonna be it.
And she speaks Minamioto. Coo.
Huh. Neku’s power is to sync with people. Which he learned to do in the first game. From Mr H, with the harmonizer pin. (Twister is playing and I have Emotions help) And now he’s gonna do it on an absolutely MASSIVE scale. This is insane. I am 1,000% here for it. Sync, Dive, Remind. And if I had to guess, we’re doing this atop 104.
Alright Shiba. ‘Mere. Tsugumi’s eyes aren’t all freaky anymore yay. Oh snap. He’s gonna unleash the Plague Noise against the Dissonance ones. Nice. Turnabout is fair play. I’m kinda sad Fuckwad isn’t here to witness that.
Alright. Change. Our. Fate.
SHIIIIIIIIIIKKKKKKKKKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I gave myself a headache ow.
“07734.” “Ew. Hey! Don’t just spout off numbers and walk away, you jerk!” That was amazing.
FUCK ME SIDEWAYS. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. NO. NO WAY. I DIDN’T THINK THERE WAS ANY WAY. OH. MY. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. This is the first time Neku’s seen him since Joshua failed to stop Coco from killing him. I’m. A puddle. Help. Neku looked so happy. My cat is slightly concerned haha.
Neku still holds his hands like he’s got the headphones. The same pose as in the first game when you scan. This gives me all the feels.
“They’re just mindless thoughts” Okay so I’m mentally exhausted at this point and I processed that as ‘thots’ and it was hilarious. BEGONE THOTS.
Okay this thing right here? This is a final boss. And it is cool as fuck. Too bad it’s trying to END ME. So cool. SO. COOL. Here comes phase 2 lol. I died and had to redo it. FML.
That. Was awesome. A worthy successor to the epic final strike of the first game. 999% eh?
I continue to not like Shinjuku rules. Once you’re a Reaper, leaving means you get erased once the game ends? Disrespectfully, fuck that. Oh don’t you dare, Shoka. Don’t. You. Dare.
Oh, Joshua is here. PLEASE. Lmao Shoka’s reaction. I’m sure he appreciates that, the drama queen.
*facepalms* Joshua strikes again. I’ve missed you, you little shit. You are terrible, but I missed you. Rindo, I’m pretty sure she’s fine. I think captain helpful over here reincarnated her for you. Since you saved him and his city. I guess I’ll see though.
Uzuki and Kariya continue to be adorable. I love them. And yeah, good luck calling in that debt from Minamimoto, Coco. Gooooood luck.
I’m having a lot of Joshua centered emotions right now there is too much Joshua all at once help. “I should have known I could trust you.” You are killing me dude. You really, really should have. I’m going to turn that line over in my head for way too long, I just know it, but let’s try to get through this before my brain turns off completely. “Let’s not keep her waiting.” OKAY THANKS I’M GONNA CRY AGAIN.
What Hazuki was saying about ‘purifying’ as opposed to ‘destroying’ Shinjuku makes me think that restarting it in some form was always part of the plan, so hopefully they’ll have luck with that. It’s still profoundly fucked up that any of that happened, and even more so that it was sanctioned. I’m. Going to be hung up on that for a while once it sinks in.
This poor idiot hitting on Rhyme is about to get got oh no XD
Shiki is breaking my heart. Aaaaaaaah!!! Reunioooooon.
Ooof it’s been a month since Rindo saw Shoka. Big oof. Joshuaaaaaa.
And then they almost got hit by a car lmao. OMG HE MISSED HER FRIEND REQUESTS AHAHAHAHAH YOU GOOBER. Neku really should have warned them that Joshua is Like That lol. Even when he’s being helpful it’s in the must backhanded way possible.
I would very much like to know why on earth Shinjuku needed to be obliterated though. Like. Does that… Happen often? Maybe the secret reports say.
Speaking of, time to get those, along with the rest of the trophies.
!!!! The title screen updated, NICE. Can’t let anyone who hasn’t beaten it see that but NICE.
There’s another Another Day. Oh boy. I am not ready for that madness yet.
Random thought as I was moving this from word, where I typed it: I’m really, really fucking glad they didn’t decide to deal with Mr H the way they dealt with sleezy mcfuckwad. That would have been… I don’t have a word.
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sending You Home–Logan Thibault
Inspired by: "Meet Me Inside" and "That Would Be Enough" from Hamilton.
Logan's POV
After high school, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. Instead of going to college, I worked for a year. While I was trying to figure out what my next step would be, I met Y/N.
Two months after I met her, I finally gathered the courage and asked her on a date. After we had been together for three years, I asked her to marry me. The day before I had planned to ask her, I was busy having an anxiety attack about proposing. When I finally got down on one knee, she didn't hesitate to say yes.
Y/N and I were about to reach our two-year wedding anniversary when I was drafted. Leaving Y/N was the hardest thing I've ever done. For the past 14 months, I've been overseas while Y/N's been back at home. I write her letters every day, but other than that we don't have much communication.
The distance was hard on both of us, but Y/N had a harder time with me putting myself in dangerous situations. In every letter she wrote, she signed it begging me to come home to her.
Seven weeks ago, we were lucky enough to go home. When I returned, Y/N and I spent every day together. Sadly, I was only home for a week before we got word of a possible threat to a town near our camp. I was on a flight out the next morning.
I was in the middle of reading through a file, continually distracted by the picture of Y/N and me on our wedding day I had by my cot. I looked up when someone cleared their throat.
"The lieutenant wants to see you," one of the other soldiers in my platoon said with little emotion.
I sighed as I stood up and walked through the campsite, heading towards his office tent. I hesitated before slowly opening the tent flap.
"You asked to see me, sir?"
"Yes," he nodded. He put down the letter he was reading and signaled for me to come in. I closed the flap behind me and sat down across from his desk. I started to feel a little nervous when I saw the way he was looking at me.
"I'm sending you home," he said, quickly getting to the point.
"What?" I asked, not sure I heard him correctly.
"I'm relieving you of duty and sending you home as soon as possible," he said as he folded his arms on his desk.
"Did I do something wrong?" I stuttered. "I don't think I've done anything. . ."
"Thibault," he ordered. I cleared my throat as he leaned back in his chair. "Now, I wouldn't be sending you home without a viable reason."
"I know, sir," I said softly.
"I got a letter from your wife," he said, his voice changing.
My heart dropped into my stomach. "Y/N? She. . . She sent you a letter?"
"She did," he nodded. "She sent me a letter, asking me if there was any way I could send you home."
"Y/N," I stuttered. "Y/N wanted you to send me home? Is she. . . Is she hurt, sir? Did something happen?"
"She's fine," he said quickly. I watched as his normal "Lieutenant Glare" turned into a smile.
"Logan," he said, his voice soft. "You're going to be a father."
* * * * *
I opened the door, greeted by the homey decorations Y/N put up in our front loft. I smiled as I closed the door behind me. I walked into our kitchen, my breath getting stuck in my throat when I saw the positive pregnancy test on the counter. I picked it up, not aware of the front door opening as tears instantly started forming.
"Logan?" I heard from softly behind me.
I turned around, still holding the pregnancy test. The tears threatened to fall as I saw Y/N standing in the doorway with her hands full of shopping bags.
"You're. . . You're home," she stuttered. I smiled as I looked down to see the shopping bags were from the baby store at the mall. I looked back up at her, unable to stop the tears from streaming down my cheeks.
"Luiteneant Jack got your letter," I said softly. "And he released me of my duties and sent me home."
"He did?" She asked under her breath.
I nodded as the tears finally escaped. She smiled, happy tears streaming down her cheeks. I ran towards her, Y/N instantly dropping the bags and jumping into my arms when I got to her. She giggled as I spun us around. I put her down but didn't let her go.
"You're pregnant," I whispered.
The second I said those two words, Y/N let out a half-giggle, half-cry and tightened her arms around me. I pulled away and cupped her cheeks in my hands. I chuckled before pressing my lips to hers. I broke the kiss and scanned her face, taking her in.
"How um. . . When did you. . . I'm just so happy," I chuckled. Y/N giggled as I led her into the kitchen and sat at the table.
"Tell me," I said eagerly.
"Tell you what?" Y/N chuckled.
I reached across the table and took both of her hands in mine. "Everything," I whispered.
Y/N giggled as she started, "I've been feeling kind of sick recently so I went to my doctor. She ran some tests and told me I was about six weeks pregnant."
"Six weeks?" I repeated. It took me a second before it suddenly hit me. I stood up and turned towards her with wide eyes. "The night before I left to head back to camp we. . ."
"Clearly didn't use protection," she chuckled as she stood up.
I pressed my lips to hers in another kiss. She giggled against my lips as I picked her up and spun us around. I put her down and finally broke the kiss. I leaned my forehead against hers, slightly rubbing our noses together.
"You're carrying my baby" I whispered, laughing like a little kid.
She pulled away and sighed as she looked at our feet. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I know how important what you do is, I just. . . I started to get scared about being pregnant and you always being gone and then I started to worry about what would happen if you got hurt or worse. . . I know I should've written you that letter. But I. . ."
I cut her off by pressing my lips to hers. We instantly started moving our lips in sync as I pulled her closer to me.
"It's okay," I whispered, breaking the kiss. "I'm glad you wrote him and he told me. I'm also kind of glad that he relieved me. I was confused at first but when he told me that we were having a baby, I. . ." I stuttered, my excitement enabling my ability to speak.
"We're having a baby," she giggled.
"I'm out."
"Wait, what?" Y/N stuttered as she took a step back.
"Of the army," I quickly clarified. "I'm officially leaving the army and coming home. I am not going to let you raise our baby alone. Not just alone but worried I may never come home. When we got married, I promised that I wasn't going to leave you. And I mean it. I'm not going to leave you or our child. Ever."
Y/N giggled as her eyes filled with tears. "I love you, Logan."
"I love you too, Y/N."
#logan thibault#logan thibault imagine#logan thibault x reader#theluckyone#zac efron#zac efron imagines#zac efron x reader
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
contract | p.sh
Prologue : why do you need me?
Demon! Seonghwa x Contracted! Reader
When the flames consumed your household, they consumed yourself. The thick, grey fog wrapped around your being like a serpent and desperately sucked out every bit of oxygen from your body. Your mother and father’s burnt and decaying bodies still engraved in your mind. The thought of it makes bile raise in your throat.
At this time, your young 10 year-old self flipped a switch in your brain. No longer could you even bare the thought of being happy in the future. It seemed distant. Like a feeling you had never felt before. How could you overcome this? How could you rebuild yourself from the crumpled and dirty child sitting barely metres away from your home that was consumed by flames.
You didn’t have time to think however, before a hard object came in contact with the back of of your skull and encasing your vision in darkness.
What year is it? You wouldn’t be able to even guess correctly. It feels like a punishment for every bad thing you’ve ever done in the past 10 years. Or maybe it’s 17? At this point, you’re not even sure what age you are. The only thing you know is that you were kidnapped in 1882.
Everyday is pure torture. After branding your back with one they’d use for cattle, you’d get beaten almost every day. Blood and dry tears cake your body in it’s disgusting metallic scent. Sometimes you wonder if you’re treated worse just because you’re a noble.
But tonight was the last straw. After being trailed and defiled by the masked men who laughed at your pain and tears - you’ve broke.
With all of the anger in your little being, even in your unconscious state, you’ve summoned a deal. A contract.
It started off in a dimly lit room. You’re still in the cage that the men have locked you in but behind the bars, watching as a black mass approaches you.
“Who are you?” Your voice is meek. Throat sore after all of the screaming and crying done prior. Strangely, you feel safe talking to the mass.
It slowly transforms into the silhouette of a human. No distinct features besides a pair of blood red eyes and a sharp, demonic smile. It’s feet click against the floor with its heels tapping in sync.
“Who am I?” It teases “You summoned me” It’s deep and distorted voice surrounds you. Every word it speaks and every step it takes sends a shock through your body.
“I summoned you?”
It laughs “Yes, my dear”
You mind stops working as it finally approaches the cage, bending down from its tall height to look at you.
“Don’t you want a strike a deal? I’ll do whatever you wish..” it trails on, one of its long and sharp fingers carefully tracing the supple flesh of your cheek “in return for your soul”
Surprisingly, it’s words don’t scare you. This creature would do whatever you want and in the end you are released into the afterlife. The sweet, sweet afterlife.
“I’ll do it” you clench your eyes closed as it steps away. Your fingers curl in your lap as you think about it.
“Just tell me what you want, little one”
Quickly, your eyes shoot open and you grasp the cold metal bars with determination in your orbs. The mass seems to like this as it steps closer once again.
“I want you to help revenge my parents and kill everyone who has wronged me!”
It chuckles and strikes a hand down onto your chest, right above your heart.
It burns, God does it fucking burn. You scream as your skin is carved into.
“I’m sorry my dear, but we have to seal the deal with my insignia”
#ateez imagines#ateez reactions#ateez x reader#ateez scenarios#ateez drabbles#ateez fluff#ateez smut#ateez yeosang#ateez mingi#ateez san#ateez wooyoung#ateez seonghwa#seonghwa scenario#seonghwa x reader#seonghwa fic#seonghwa imagines
234 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
jack-o-phantom
Welcome to the Pumpkin patch
classpectingshitposts
exactly what it says on the tin
nicocerone
Nico Cerone
angelrsar
Angel's place
seishirousnagi
★ Chainsaw Devil ★