Latest Posts by typingfool - Page 9

this is, by far, one of the best fics on this app. i cannot stress this enough. your writing style is a perfect mix between emotions and actions. i admire it so much 😭 please keep this up! thank you for sharing your writing to the internet :)

i’m not made by design ; jaime lannister.

track seven of BROKEN MACHINE.  

pairing ; jaime lannister x stark!reader (she/her pronouns)

synopsis ; wolves and lions tend not to be friends, much less lovers.

words ; 47.8k

themes ; heavy angst, action, fluff, (actual) enemies to lovers, slowburn

warnings / includes ; war/violence/murder/injury/blood, attempted sexual assault, this story covers the events from game of thrones s1-4, politicking, incest, talks of sex, foul language, animal cruelty, a lot of generally terrible things going on but what else can you expect from asoiaf, reader is known as the bitter wolf and is ned’s youngest sibling, bittersweet ending

main masterlist.

You first met Jaime Lannister during the Year of the False Spring, at the Great Tourney of Harrenhal—you had only been ten years of age, still starry-eyed and gentle-of-tongue. Knights, lords, and ladies hailing from all over Westeros were buzzing about the opening feast. Chalices of golden ale, platters of fruit and cheese, and sizzling trays of freshly-roasted meats were splayed out over several long tables.

To your right was your eldest brother, Brandon, biting into a large turkey leg and gingerly offering you a piece when he caught you ogling him. To your left was your sister Lyanna, popping voluminous grapes into her mouth and chattering to your two other brothers, Benjen and Ned, across the table. Her grey eyes were alight with glee, and she tipped her head back to laugh when Benjen made a snarky comment about Ned’s overgrown hair.

You were well into your second serving of glazed lemon cakes when the crown Prince, Rhaegar Targaryen, stood up front. A hush descended upon the crowd when the handsome, silver-haired man brandished a large, golden harp.

Keep reading

more domestic!din because im a slut for domesticity

𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 ;; din djarin

Pairing; Din Djarin x gn!Reader

outline —; Peaceful times with Din Djarin were rare. You relish it.

word count —; 1.1k

WARNINGS —; none.

tags / themes —; reader and din are married, grogu (sweetly) interrupting a moment.

A/N —; *comes back with a massive stars wars obsession* hey, i write for them now. it's been a stressful couple months and i wanted to get something out for my birthday. this isn't beta-read, i just wanted to write. please be kind, thanks.

This galaxy raised warriors, heroes, and peace-keepers. Those who fought in the name of their planet, for the safety of the future, and the love they carry for their family. Those who were victims of war survived… or trained to survive, fight, and endure. 

This galaxy isn’t raised for writers, painters, and performers. Those who coped in whomever’s name, for the sanity of themselves, and possibly for the love they carried for their crafts. Of course, artists don’t only do it for themselves. They create in order to escape; and luckily enough, they don’t press themselves into the cruel hands of the galaxy. Because it isn’t built for them. 

For you, the galaxy seemed to test the waters. Warriors and Artists? Maybe those two weren’t so different, after all. Oh, how history would have written it; when the stars collide, an artist with no place in this galaxy meets a warrior who can’t find a home. Those three long years, what an adventure it has been. 

Din Djarin is a victim of war. Like yourself. There truly is a place for people like you. But whilst Din grew up with the Way, you grew up tracing the sky, seeing shapes in every landscape, and memorising the curve of someone’s face. Often asking yourself questions like; Where does the shadow fall? In which direction does the light come from? If you were simplified, which shapes best describe you? 

Din Djarin is a Mandalorian. Not like yourself. A Mandalorian. A warrior. He trained and connived his way till he stood in this solid home. He grew up hidden, so he stayed that way for a while in his life; often a mystery to the Guild. 

“Din Djarin, do not move.” You warned, tilting your head as the heat of Nevarro’s sun hit your face. The chair, in which you sat, rocked back slightly at your movements. With arms outstretched, thumb against the pencil, you held it feebly upwards, trying to calculate the proportions of the Mandalorian’s body. 

If you could see his face out in the open right now, you would’ve caught on with the fact that your husband — your riduur — was smirking. And decided to tilt his head in the opposite direction for the fun of it. You clicked your tongue in annoyance but a smile adorned your face. “I’ve been in this position for fifteen minutes, ner runi.” Din sighed softly, tapping his ungloved fingers against his forearm. 

“Fifteen minutes more.” You looked at him over the rim of your notebook, sketching away. A light fire went on above your head, face lighting up as the same smile adorned your features. “I’ll entertain you, what’s our son doing?” You asked, raising your notebook down to tilt your head at him again. 

Din chuckled at your demeanour or was it your question? You couldn’t tell, though he answered anyway. “Eating frogs.” 

“Again?” You turned to look at the side to see your son doing so; eating frogs. Entirely, it was your fault for looking away. At the time your eyes left your riduur, Din got up, breaking your focus. “Din!” You laughed as you looked back at him.

Your Mandalorian called your name with the same energy. His next words were spoken in a gentle manner, enough to capture your attention. “I’m tired,” He merely said, extending his hand to you. “Let’s be tired together.” 

You let a relieved breath. Has it always been there? You weren’t sure, though, at this moment, you let it go. You released it when settling your supplies down the chair in which you sat. You released it when you found yourself melting into Din’s hands. 

With the armour off, the world is all but noisy. The only sound prominent are frogs croaking and the gentle breeze of Nevarro’s ambience. He pulled you into his chest and laid his back against the frame of the metal door. 

Music. You could hear music, with your cheeks pressed against the warmth of his chest, and with his arms wrapped around you (and yours around Din’s waist). The world stopped, for a few moments it stopped, and you breathed. Inhale and exhale. The exhaustion left your body through that breath, and you could feel that Din breathed too. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. You could hear his gentle heart, if you listen close enough, you could practically hear his soul. What would it sound like? 

Move. Your body screamed to move, but a part of you wanted to stay like this forever. Though, the feeling caved into you, forcing your head to look at your husband’s visor. Your chin rested on his chest as you asked warily. “Can I kiss you?” 

Modulate. The Mandolorian’s helmet modulated his voice, if he answered in a chuckle, the other might receive it the wrong way. He didn’t want to move. The embrace held a significant peace, one that physically pained him when he moved a muscle. But Din didn’t speak with his brain at the moment, so he removed his helmet, and the beskar fell onto the floor beside them. 

They were in the middle of nowhere, what would you say? — All is well. — That sentence proved its point when Din held your cheeks beneath his hands, and his lips were on yours. He could feel you kiss back, he could feel your cheeks against his, he could feel the lazy smile that tugged your lips. Truly, Din wanted to open his eyes, to get a better look of you without his visor, yet somehow, he couldn’t. 

Din is tired. So tired. His shoulder gave in and melted between your arms; he didn’t know how it got there; your elbows above his shoulder, as your fingers explored his hair. But Din didn’t care, he just melted into your kiss, laughing, nearly crying over the unexpected bliss and peacefulness the day had to offer. 

His desires of staying like this with you continued to grow within each second— 

“Patu!” And then, the moment was sweetly broken. 

Your lips disconnected with a sound, pulling away the moment the sound was in ear-shot. Din’s eyes landed first on the green baby, doe eyed, ears high, and head tilted innocently. 

You saw him slurp a frog. “Grogu,” A waning smile reached your son’s lips when his name was mentioned, without warning, he jumped into your arms. Thankfully, you caught him. “That’s not nice of you. What if the frogs had parents?” You teased. 

Din chuckled beside you, kissing your temple lightly, before opening the door. “Let’s head inside.” He said while bending to get his fallen helmet. The gesture, so simple, caught you off guard. A soft, green hand held the base of your cheek and Grogu joyfully yelled with ‘‘Iek!’

Stepping inside, you looked around, almost nostalgically. This is your home. Reminded by Grogu and Din’s presence, a smile painted your lips. They are your home. “I’ll kiss you once more when he’s asleep.” He muttered before taking Grogu from your grip. 

Maybe there is a place for artists in this galaxy.

TRANSLATION(S);

riduur; spouse, husband, wife ner runi; my soul (*ner; my) (*runi; soul)

♡ PLEASE LIKE AND REBLOG TO SUPPORT ME.

Hi, do you happen to have a masterlist?

I recently stumbled upon your work and I love the way you wrote it.

Thanks in advance!

i have yet to make to make one. but you can check the tag; 'ziah writes🕯 ♥ thank you so much for your kind words, anon !! you made my day :)

Then Chessa spoke, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Her rosy cheeks grew even rosier as she grinned.

Nyla's fingers curled around her paint brush, dipping her chin down. She looks at Chessa from the rim of her glasses. “No, I’ll paint you instead, it’ll last for centuries.” She spoke softly, grinning back.

Reblog with a random sentence from your wip.

𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 ; tony stark

pairing ; father figure!Tony Stark x adopted!gn!Reader platonic / mentions ; bucky barnes, wanda maximoff, natasha romanova, harold "happy" hogan, pepper potts

outline —; Happy is ten minutes late. Tony is freaking out. And you are here, munching on a burger, lost somewhere in Midtown Manhattan. 

word count —; 1.8k

WARNINGS —; mention of HYDRA

tags / themes —; reader forgets their birthday, father-child complications, pepper being a mom, happy being... happy,

A/N —; finally beta-read!! this is just so... self-indulgent, it was my birthday a few days ago and i wanted to fill the pit in my stomach w/ some more surprises!!

Midtown Manhattan is a maze to you. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have to walk. You didn’t get to choose to walk. And Happy knew that. 

He was about… ten minutes late, you’ve stood in the same spot for ten minutes. Ten. Minutes. It’s fun and all. Until, you had the brilliant idea to walk around the block of your school, ultimately getting lost between the local shops and roads of the large, loud city. 

Gazing up, you could see the lovely “Stark” brandished unto the Avengers Tower. A medal, a hope to those who looked upon it. Your eyes landed on a small restaurant, two huge windows on either side, and a strained glass door in the middle. Its contrast to the colours of the buildings that’s surrounding it; yellows instead of blue, reds instead of grey. 

Plus, not a single soul. Your lips curled into a smile. 

Perfect, it looks like someone vomited rainbows. You concluded to yourself before crossing the road. Your fingers curled around the metal handle, pushing it open. With hands clinging on to the backpack hanging from your shoulder, you smiled at the woman behind the counter. Though, you felt the presence of a schoolboy with a bright blue flannel, sitting in the corner; burger, fries, and soda in front of him, his main focus was on his phone. 

Turning away, you let the soft smell of burgers fill your senses. 

Eventually, you found a spot beside the window, looking outside a bit before the woman from behind the counter came over to pick your order. “I’ll have whatever he’s having,” You purse your lips to silently point at the boy. 

“Burger, curly fries, and soda.” The woman repeated, she made eye contact with you, then smiled. “Anything else?” 

“Uh, no soda and ketchup please.” You grimaced, fidgeting with your hands underneath the table, averting your gaze outside. 

She tilted her head. “Just water?” 

You nodded and whispered as if she could hear you, “Yes.” 

The woman simply nodded and disappeared behind the counter. And you heaved a sigh, a very quiet sigh, as to not disrupt anyone’s peace in the quiet restaurant. The boy from across the room settled his phone down, looked at the burger, then at you. He waved shyly. And you mimicked the action, despite not entirely understanding his point of social cue. 

You chose to shift your gaze to the clear, glass window. Watching the people walk by and the cars speeding through the road. The more you count the amount of people passing by, the more you understood Stark, he cared for these people. The heavy exterior of his iron suit may not tell much, and even though he doesn’t physically have a heart. He does care. 

The smell of your order reached your nose, making you turn back and smile. You paid the kind woman and started to indulge in your fries first. 

Your mind drifted back to Happy. If he wasn’t ten minutes late, you would’ve been at home right now, perched against the headboard of your bed, resting. But the day would end, and you’d start all over again. Disrupting your schedule isn’t so bad. You get time for yourself, you don’t have to talk.

You smiled, as you bit your burger. And as if your thoughts aligned with reality, Happy Hogan walks in the store. 

Happy fuckin’ Hogan. 

With his suit and sunglasses and all. Out of breath, he looks at your retreating figure; attempting to swallow the burger as you smiled at him bitterly. “Hi,” You mouthfully said, settling your burger down, and signalling him to sit down. “Do you want to order anything?” You asked, mouth clear this time, as you swallowed the food. 

“I was looking everywhere for you,” Happy said through heavy breaths, slouching his shoulders. 

You nod along his words and licked your teeth with a sound. “You were late,” You took a bite of your burger again, swallowing. “So, I wandered off.” 

“You wandered off?” He repeated with a tone that clearly said he wasn’t happy. 

“I wandered off,” You repeated, your palms were free and expressed your tone. “Why were you late?” 

A twinkle behind Happy’s eyes, then, his face contorted into a blank expression. He cleared his throat, sitting straight in the chair. “Tony wanted me to do…” He fixed his tie clumsily. “Stuff.” As his words escaped his mouth, you bit into your burger comically, rolling your eyes. “Hey— He’s really worried, you need to eat the rest of,” Happy made circle gestures to your food. “This. Otherwise, he’ll—” 

“Call me,” You finished for him, wiping the ends of your mouth with a tissue. You looked around, averting your gaze from anywhere but Happy. It landed on the floor. “I know.” 

Happy tapped the table twice, making you pay close attention to him. “He cares,” He says, offering a smile through his stubble. Though, you couldn’t really tell. 

Nodding along his words, you licked your lips. “I know.” You confessed. 

The ride alone with Happy is the same; quiet. But you never minded. 

This time is different, something is different. Your palm fell against the texture of the seat, forehead against the car window. “This isn’t home,” You knocked the window, your eyes landed on the rear mirror. “Where are we going?” 

Happy’s eyes were ahead, avoiding your gaze. He’d be adamant in keeping eye-contact, for some reason, he wasn’t… looking at you. “Avengers Tower.” 

“What?” You blurted out, scratching the lobes of your ear, you said a bit softer; “Why?” You bit your bottom lip slightly, pulling yourself from the window, settling down onto your seat. 

He cleared his throat again. 

Weird. That wasn’t likely of him. “Tony’s there.” 

You furrow your brows, sighing as your head falls back. “Do I have to be there too?” You asked, though, quickly shaking your head. “Why do I have to be there?” 

Happy sighs, it wasn’t a condescending sigh, he wasn't tired of your questions, he just sighs—heaves out a long breath before saying. “You’ll see.”

“Ah, there you are!” Pepper exclaimed, her long hair bouncing as she swiftly hugged you. Giving your temple a kiss. “Come on, everyone’s waiting for you.” 

You were about to question everyone? Before you feel Happy slightly nudge you to follow Pepper, trailing closely behind you. You shake off the sensitivity of his touch before your school shoes slapped against the marbled floor. 

“How was school?” Pepper asked, pressing a button in the elevator. Her soft hands drifted back of your head, tugging a strand of it behind your ear. 

You smile, eyes ahead the number of the floor, brows raised. You rub your eyes with the back of your palms, yawning. “Normal.” 

“Until Happy,” You jabbed a thumb at the man beside you. “Was late.” 

Pepper Potts is the closest mother figure you’ve ever since HYDRA happened. Glimpses of your past always came peeking through the surface, ruining any chances of communicating like a normal person. But… Pepper, she somehow reminded you what it’s like to be human. She taught you to be more open, to not be so tense, to hold your head high. “Just normal?”

Pepper tilted her head at the man, amused. “Don’t be late next time.” She eyed him as the elevator doors opened. 

Turning around the corner, with Tony’s back turned, the Avengers erupted into cheers. Much to your surprise. You slowly backed out, slightly overwhelmed with the amount of people in the room. “Happy Birthday!” 

Your shoulders slumped back and you tried to bite down a smile. Oh. It was your birthday. “...Thank you?” You slowly inched in, seeing familiar faces. Laughter erupted again, they were drunk. Definitely. How long have they been waiting for you? Wanda came in first, hugging your shoulders. Then Natasha’s crushing hug and smile. Then… “Barnes,” You chuckled as he ruffled your hair. 

“Heat sink,” Bucky affectionately bit back, his hands curled around a clumsy, boxed present. He tossed it to you. “Don’t tell Tony.” He whispered, before patting your shoulder, and heading to the kitchen, probably to get another drink. 

Tony smiled, showing his teeth. “Happy Birthday, kid.” 

There was a silence that hung right above your heads; other than the Avengers constant laughter; there’s the awkwardness between the two of you. No matter how long the years passed by—it’s always been there, you were unsure as to how you could conquer it. 

Maybe, you could start now. Pepper and Happy passed by you, feeling that they were suddenly invading, they headed close to the other Avengers. You cleared your throat, stepping forward. “Thanks, Tony.” You said a bit timidly, causing his brows to raise slightly. 

Tony examined you up and down. You were still in your uniform, now all baggy and messy. “How was school?” He inquired, signalling his head to follow him in the kitchen. 

“Normal, until Happy showed up late.” You mimicked his action, looking back at Happy and Pepper with a smile. “Went to a restaurant. Ate something.” 

Tony nodded his head along with your vague storytelling. “You got lost?” He raised a brow. 

You grinned cheekily, leaning against the countertable with your elbow. You swiped your palm against the base of your neck, grunting a little before replying. “A bit.” 

“Sure, a bit.” Tony said, pouring you a glass of apple juice. He handed it to you, “Happy Birthday again.” 

A pause. He continued. “I know we don’t talk a lot, kid. But I want you to know that—” 

You sipped your apple juice loudly, smacking your lips together. “Care about me,” You grimaced, not to him, you didn’t have the courage to look anyone in the eyes right now. “I know.” 

Tony crossed his arms and leaned against the countertable, just beside you. Though, far enough for your liking. “No,” His lips formed into a line, you dipped your head lower, looking at him between your eyelashes. He made that stubble face that Happy would, you couldn’t distinguish if it was smiling and frowning. “I don’t… express it enough.” 

Another pause. It wasn’t the same silence that hanged minutes ago. 

It was comforting. You patiently waited. 

Tony looked at you, with a smile this time. “I care about you, kid.” He says this like an oath. Your head was still dipped down, gaze fixed on the floor. Your vision begins to water, some-fucking-how. “You’ve been through a lot,” He continues, watching as you set the glass down. “And you’ve been so strong.” He smiles when you look at him. “I’m proud of y—” 

His words were cut off with you hugging him. Tony didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your retreating figure, somehow, he understood your quiet sobs. The way your fingers tremble behind his back, the way your legs buckled, and the way your quiet sniffles were hidden by the collar of his shirt. He continued anyway, Tony’s nose was buried into your hair as he said. “I’m proud of you.” 

♡ PLEASE LIKE & REBLOG TO SUPPORT ME.

𝐍𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 ;; nikolai lantsov

pairing ; Nikolai Lantsov x fem!Reader platonic / mentions ; tamar yul-bataar, tolya yul-bataar

outline —; Nikolai isn’t the only royal member in the Sturmhond Crew. 

WARNINGS —: none.

Word Count —; 621

A/N —; just wanted to write something again, i've been stuck in a writer's rut. NOT BOOK ACCURATE. THIS IS BASED ON THE SHOW; SHADOW AND BONE. so sorry if it's short, i'll expand on this later. for now, enjoy !!

“You’re whom?” 

His tired question echoes, voice bouncing across the room, making Nikolai slightly bite his inner cheek. He shook his head, blonde hair messily falling over the edge of his brows. You sat with your back against the headboard, the weight of your knees covering your chest. He carefully repeated his question; “Who are you?” 

You lay your cheek against your knee, a familiar smile broadly appearing across your face. A sleepy expression carried your next words, as though you weren’t thinking about what you were saying. “Secondborn Princess of Novyi Zem.” You replied with a yawn. 

Nikolai sat on the edge of the bed, the fabric of the tunic fit his body perfectly, and you forced yourself not to stare. Peaking your gaze towards your clothes. He scoffed, his hand extending to your face. His fingers found their way to your chin, forcing you to look at him. With amusement evident in his voice, he said; “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Your fingers curled around his wrist, pulling it away, the absence of his touch lingered across the skin of your chin. Rolling your eyes, your head fell back against the bed’s headboard. “Sure, of course, I would tell you, Prince Nikolai.” You teased, shaking your head, arms wrapping around your legs. “You didn’t think you were the only royal one on board, did you?” 

Nikolai plopped himself on the bed, with his palm on his forehead, scoffing. 

No wonder you were so enticing. So polite and kind. Your posture told your status, you held your head high, shoulders on-alert, hands crossed or over each other (because, who would hold your hands if it grew cold?). Your choices were impulsive, for sure, but that was only due to the fact that the luxury of choice isn’t a right to a Princess, especially a Secondborn. The attention is with the Firstborn, the first light, the first star, the responsible, the role model. 

How could Nikolai miss all those traits? The traits that made him love you deeply. In secret. With the doors locked, he would hold his aching heart, wishing that Sturmhond is his real name. 

Then again, you adopted an alias. One that felt so uneasy leaving his tongue. He felt the need to say your real name, if you so kindly give him the permission to. “What is your name?” Nikolai asked, peeking down on your tired figure. 

You left your spot and settled beside him, elbows touching. You said your name without looking at him, carrying the bitterness of your title alongside your identity. 

“Princess…” He started slowly, maybe sleepily. His whispery voice stopped, before he turned to face you. Your gaze was still fixed on the ceiling, ignoring the Prince’s tracing eyes over your profile. “No,” He stopped, then said your name. 

The weight of your responsibilities came tumbling down. And Saints didn’t matter to you anymore, the ongoing war of Ravka, destroying the Fold, Kirigan’s return… nothing mattered. Nothing. Your name never sounded so common, yet so rare. Your parents named you after a Queen, and as the saying goes, ‘Name her after a Queen and expect her to act like one.’ 

For a moment, you were so thankful that you were in a foreign land. One that didn’t recognize your name in its meaning. Thankful for your impulsive and rash decision that one midnight. The one night you fled, met Tamar and Tolya, and joined Sturmhond’s Crew. 

The one night that changed your view in a world so cruel. That, perhaps, a stranger’s name could belong to you. But he proved you wrong. Your name belongs to you. 

“Out there, Princess” Nikolai pointed to the walls, eyes closed. “In here, No titles,” Nikolai smiled. 

♡ PLEASE LIKE & REBLOG TO SUPPORT ME.

𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 ;; din djarin

Pairing; Din Djarin x gn!Reader

outline —; Peaceful times with Din Djarin were rare. You relish it.

word count —; 1.1k

WARNINGS —; none.

tags / themes —; reader and din are married, grogu (sweetly) interrupting a moment.

A/N —; *comes back with a massive stars wars obsession* hey, i write for them now. it's been a stressful couple months and i wanted to get something out for my birthday. this isn't beta-read, i just wanted to write. please be kind, thanks.

This galaxy raised warriors, heroes, and peace-keepers. Those who fought in the name of their planet, for the safety of the future, and the love they carry for their family. Those who were victims of war survived… or trained to survive, fight, and endure. 

This galaxy isn’t raised for writers, painters, and performers. Those who coped in whomever’s name, for the sanity of themselves, and possibly for the love they carried for their crafts. Of course, artists don’t only do it for themselves. They create in order to escape; and luckily enough, they don’t press themselves into the cruel hands of the galaxy. Because it isn’t built for them. 

For you, the galaxy seemed to test the waters. Warriors and Artists? Maybe those two weren’t so different, after all. Oh, how history would have written it; when the stars collide, an artist with no place in this galaxy meets a warrior who can’t find a home. Those three long years, what an adventure it has been. 

Din Djarin is a victim of war. Like yourself. There truly is a place for people like you. But whilst Din grew up with the Way, you grew up tracing the sky, seeing shapes in every landscape, and memorising the curve of someone’s face. Often asking yourself questions like; Where does the shadow fall? In which direction does the light come from? If you were simplified, which shapes best describe you? 

Din Djarin is a Mandalorian. Not like yourself. A Mandalorian. A warrior. He trained and connived his way till he stood in this solid home. He grew up hidden, so he stayed that way for a while in his life; often a mystery to the Guild. 

“Din Djarin, do not move.” You warned, tilting your head as the heat of Nevarro’s sun hit your face. The chair, in which you sat, rocked back slightly at your movements. With arms outstretched, thumb against the pencil, you held it feebly upwards, trying to calculate the proportions of the Mandalorian’s body. 

If you could see his face out in the open right now, you would’ve caught on with the fact that your husband — your riduur — was smirking. And decided to tilt his head in the opposite direction for the fun of it. You clicked your tongue in annoyance but a smile adorned your face. “I’ve been in this position for fifteen minutes, ner runi.” Din sighed softly, tapping his ungloved fingers against his forearm. 

“Fifteen minutes more.” You looked at him over the rim of your notebook, sketching away. A light fire went on above your head, face lighting up as the same smile adorned your features. “I’ll entertain you, what’s our son doing?” You asked, raising your notebook down to tilt your head at him again. 

Din chuckled at your demeanour or was it your question? You couldn’t tell, though he answered anyway. “Eating frogs.” 

“Again?” You turned to look at the side to see your son doing so; eating frogs. Entirely, it was your fault for looking away. At the time your eyes left your riduur, Din got up, breaking your focus. “Din!” You laughed as you looked back at him.

Your Mandalorian called your name with the same energy. His next words were spoken in a gentle manner, enough to capture your attention. “I’m tired,” He merely said, extending his hand to you. “Let’s be tired together.” 

You let a relieved breath. Has it always been there? You weren’t sure, though, at this moment, you let it go. You released it when settling your supplies down the chair in which you sat. You released it when you found yourself melting into Din’s hands. 

With the armour off, the world is all but noisy. The only sound prominent are frogs croaking and the gentle breeze of Nevarro’s ambience. He pulled you into his chest and laid his back against the frame of the metal door. 

Music. You could hear music, with your cheeks pressed against the warmth of his chest, and with his arms wrapped around you (and yours around Din’s waist). The world stopped, for a few moments it stopped, and you breathed. Inhale and exhale. The exhaustion left your body through that breath, and you could feel that Din breathed too. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. You could hear his gentle heart, if you listen close enough, you could practically hear his soul. What would it sound like? 

Move. Your body screamed to move, but a part of you wanted to stay like this forever. Though, the feeling caved into you, forcing your head to look at your husband’s visor. Your chin rested on his chest as you asked warily. “Can I kiss you?” 

Modulate. The Mandolorian’s helmet modulated his voice, if he answered in a chuckle, the other might receive it the wrong way. He didn’t want to move. The embrace held a significant peace, one that physically pained him when he moved a muscle. But Din didn’t speak with his brain at the moment, so he removed his helmet, and the beskar fell onto the floor beside them. 

They were in the middle of nowhere, what would you say? — All is well. — That sentence proved its point when Din held your cheeks beneath his hands, and his lips were on yours. He could feel you kiss back, he could feel your cheeks against his, he could feel the lazy smile that tugged your lips. Truly, Din wanted to open his eyes, to get a better look of you without his visor, yet somehow, he couldn’t. 

Din is tired. So tired. His shoulder gave in and melted between your arms; he didn’t know how it got there; your elbows above his shoulder, as your fingers explored his hair. But Din didn’t care, he just melted into your kiss, laughing, nearly crying over the unexpected bliss and peacefulness the day had to offer. 

His desires of staying like this with you continued to grow within each second— 

“Patu!” And then, the moment was sweetly broken. 

Your lips disconnected with a sound, pulling away the moment the sound was in ear-shot. Din’s eyes landed first on the green baby, doe eyed, ears high, and head tilted innocently. 

You saw him slurp a frog. “Grogu,” A waning smile reached your son’s lips when his name was mentioned, without warning, he jumped into your arms. Thankfully, you caught him. “That’s not nice of you. What if the frogs had parents?” You teased. 

Din chuckled beside you, kissing your temple lightly, before opening the door. “Let’s head inside.” He said while bending to get his fallen helmet. The gesture, so simple, caught you off guard. A soft, green hand held the base of your cheek and Grogu joyfully yelled with ‘‘Iek!’

Stepping inside, you looked around, almost nostalgically. This is your home. Reminded by Grogu and Din’s presence, a smile painted your lips. They are your home. “I’ll kiss you once more when he’s asleep.” He muttered before taking Grogu from your grip. 

Maybe there is a place for artists in this galaxy.

TRANSLATION(S);

riduur; spouse, husband, wife ner runi; my soul (*ner; my) (*runi; soul)

♡ PLEASE LIKE AND REBLOG TO SUPPORT ME.

star wars week 2023: costumes

text from Dressing a Galaxy by Trisha Beggar (part 1, part 2)

#fuck around and find out | STAR WARS JEDI: SURVIVOR (2023)

please there are barely any luke skywalker/reader fics on this map, i'm glad you take requests for him !! && i'm tempted to write one myself.

jedi-knight reader being taught by luke how to pilot after having a nightmare, just like really awkward and fluffy... but with sorta angst-y?? because the both of them were taught that jedis' weren't suppose to be together, the ending is up to your creative freedom !!

if you ever take this request, thank you, i adore you && your writing style, have a nice day/night :)

late night flights and kisses | luke skywalker

pairing: luke x jedi!reader

word count: 1,7k

summary: where luke and y/n are attracted to each other but know that the jedi code doesn't allow it

a/n: i love writing for our soft boy luke 🫶🏻 and you should definitely start writing one yourself, i want to read it!! <3 i hope you enjoy what i came up with here ♡♡♡ happy star wars day and may the 4th be with you ❤️

warnings: angst, mentions of blood

universe: star wars

Abruptly waking up with sweat running down your forehead, you sit up, clutching your trembling hands to your chest, on top of your fast beating heart. Your eyes scan the room in a panic, trying to decipher where you are and, in fact, realizing that you are not in the middle of a raging battlefield with your hands covered in blood but in your chamber on the rebel base. You are in your own safe space but, right now, it feels far away from that and the glooming moon that peeks through the small window doesn't make this feeling any better. You had these terrible nightmares for a while now but lately they were getting better and better. Until now, at least.

After staring into the void for a few more minutes, calming down your rapid breathing as well as your heartbeat, you leave your warm bed and throw on a coat, put on shoes and leave your sticky, clammy room behind. You make your way through the quiet rebel base, your destination unclear. You only know that you needed to get out of there as soon as possible and a bit of fresh air sounded like a good idea. And because of that, you find yourself standing in the huge hangar, stuffed with all sorts of spaceships, darkness laying over them.

The only source of light comes from one of the moons once again, casting a streak of white light onto the ground through the heavy hangar door that is slightly open. Only when you are already on your way towards the moon and thus to outside, do you notice another light source. Hardly noticeable and very weakly, the illumination next to an X-Wing catches your attention and you stop abruptly, pausing. You don't move a single muscle, waiting for something to happen, for any logical explanation as to why there is light on in the hangar in the deepest of night.

"Hello? Is someone there?", you ask, carefully taking a few steps in the direction of the light, your coat wrapped tightly around you, guarding you like a shield from whatever you will have to face. Your question is answered with a slight hiss, followed by the muttering of a few curses and a quiet rustle.

You take a closer look, relieved now that it appears to be just another pilot tinkering away on his ship in the middle of the night. But just as you are about to turn around, wanting to persuade your original goal, you notice which X-Wing it is, namely Red Five, and you can't help but shake your head in disbelief before walking towards it.

And just like you expected, you find none other than Luke, lying on a rollable surface under his X-Wing, working on it. He doesn't seem to have noticed you yet, didn't even hear your question earlier since he is completely focused and concentrating only on whatever he is doing with his beloved ship in this moment.

In order to not scare him to death, you quietly clear your throat and yet, his body flinches before he rolls out from underneath his X-Wing, looking at you with wide eyes that quickly turn from frightened to relieved upon recognizing you. He is wearing his orange pilot flight suit, the zipper not fully closed, and you are not sure if he has already put it back on or just never took it off in the first place. His hair is disheveled and there are a few beads of sweat on his forehead which tell you that he must have been here a long time already.

"What are you doing here, Y/N? You should sleep", he immediately starts reprimanding you, running his hand through his hair while placing the tool on the floor next to him.

"I could ask you the same thing", you reply swiftly, which makes Luke chuckle, lowering his head as he searchs for a suitable answer. Your eyes never leaving his stature, you sit on one of the taller boxes surrounding you, your legs dangling.

"Couldn't sleep. I guess it's the adrenaline from the mission", Luke sighs, grabbing a cloth to clean his smeared hands. "What about you?"

You knew he would ask, he always does, but it catches you off guard nevertheless. His eyes are filled with worry when you don't answer immediately, but you just don't know where to even start. That is why you choose to not start at all.

"Me too", you mumble, shrugging as he keeps looking at you. Luke frowns at your words, clearly not believing them and just when you think he is going to insist on receiving an honest answer from you, he stands up, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the cloth, tossing it away before offering you a hand.

Your gaze switches between his hand and his eyes that scream for you to take his hand, even though you have no idea what he intends on doing. However, you trust him, you always do, and he doesn't even need to say a word for you to finally grab his hand and let him pull you down.

Quickly, Luke swaps the hand he is holding you with and pulls you towards his X-Wing, right where the ladder is to climb into the cockpit. You look at him questioningly, but he just indicates for you to climb up. Shaking your head, you take a step back and remove your hand from his grab, but he is quick to catch you again.

"Luke, what are you doing?", you ask, irritated and confused.

"You always wanted to learn how to pilot, didn't you?", he smiles at you which sends warmth through your body. You didn't think he would remember such a small thing you once said when you two were on a mission. But he did. And the fact that he did makes you blush unavoidably, which is why you look away, not wanting to show him the impact that he has on you. As far as you are concerned, you are not supposed to have these kind of feelings towards him. You are both Jedi and they have always been forbidden to love.

"It's going to be fine. I'm here with you", Luke reassures you, squeezing your hand while the smile on his lips is not fading. If he notices your blushing, he doesn't show it. Instead he gently tugs at your hand again to encourage you to climb up the ladder. "Do you trust me?"

These words take you by surprise and you look at him again. You thought he already knew the answer to that question. And as you look in his eyes, you can see that he actually does know the answer and doesn't need to hear it from you, which is why you give in and let him help you into the cockpit. Sitting inside, Luke stands on the ladder next to you so he can look into the cockpit and at the numerous flashing buttons with you.

"Alright, are you comfortable?", he asks with a grin on his face and you just nod, returning his smile. "Very well. So, do you see this white button? Pushing it will activate the deflector shield. With this one you start into hyperdrive, which we don't want right now. Here you have the communication channel, if you ever want to chat with me via coms."

Luke goes on and on about explaining and showing you each and every button, even pressing some of those that can be activated without any damage considering that you are still in the hangar. Whenever he wants you to push one of them, your hands graze and both of you pull your hands away awkwardly before he clears his throat and continues to passionately ramble on.

What Luke doesn't notice, however, is that he comes closer to you each time he reaches over you. You can't keep the blush from creeping over your cheeks as his face is only inches away from yours, allowing you to see every small detail, every bump, every tiny scar on his glowing skin.

It is moments like these when you forget everything around you, especially the laws that the Jedi imposed on themselves back then. Why shouldn't you be allowed to love when the feeling inside you is so painfully strong? When it feels like it is eating you alive and you can't do anything about it?

As soon as Luke notices how close he is to you, he stops dead in his movement. His eyes lock with yours and if you wouldn't know better, you imagine his eyes looking down at your lips for a quick second. Your faces are so close to each other that you can feel each other's breaths, sense each other's emotions. Neither of you says a word, but you don't need to as you savor the moment, enjoy the proximity. Right now, it is only you and him.

Slowly, Luke leans in and you feel like your heart is going to combust. Closing your eyes, you wait for him to finally kiss you, to finally show you that these rules mean nothing to the both of you any longer. But he doesn't.

When you open your eyes again, Luke has withdrawn, looking away as his cheeks take on a bright red color.

"I-I'm sorry. We can't. I can't", he stutters out, not able to look at you. Your heart aches as he says the words you never wanted to hear, especially not after his feelings seem to mirror yours. But because you love him with all you have, you understand.

"No, it's fine. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have- I think I should go now", you say, but it sounds more like a mumble, filled with sorrow, and you pull yourself up from the seat with your hands. But as soon as the words leave your mouth, Luke looks at you again and it is then that you see how all the emotions, all the possible decisions flash before his eyes. And before you know it, his hands cup your cheeks and his lips land on yours in a sweet but desperately needed kiss.

You sink back into his pilot seat, never wanting to miss the feeling of his soft lips on yours. You run your hand through his hair, enjoying every second of it. Completely out of breath, Luke lets go of you after a while, but this time, he doesn't withdraw. His forehead is against yours, his thumbs caressing your hot cheeks as you both smile at each other.

"I hated this rule anyway", Luke chuckles and you can't disagree as he connects your lips in another soft kiss.

Have I reblogged this before and expressed my undying, unconditional love for this fic? No? Well, now I'm here.

I love this idea so much and the characterization for Anakin(s). AND THE READER BEING A JEDI CONSULAR !! I don't see a lot of those out there, so, reading it is just refreshing. I absolutely adore the interactions between the characters (i.e: the sky's Anakin getting annoyed by long-haired Anakin, Sky's banter with her Anakin, Poor Obi-Wan being a professional Jedi, literally Sky's cluelessness, curiosity, and infatuation with long-haired Anakin).

I love, love this fanfiction so much; the amount of thought put to this? HELLO?? I especially love the writing style too! It's the perfect amount of action and emotions crafted together. I have something to enjoy and go to throughout the day, I'm smiling like a dog. Thank you for writing this! ♥

Another You (1)

an anakin skywalker/jedi consular!reader fic set during the clone wars

the pitch: best friends with anakin since he had joined the jedi order, you hadn’t expected to catch feelings for him, not that hard, at least. his intentions were clear — his heart already enraptured by the nubian senator, leaving you to ruminate about the prospect of letting go of not just him, but maybe everything. until another anakin shows up, and your — your universe’s anakin starts behaving strangely.

A/N: this is a gift for my padawan, @kaizsche! happy birthday, kai! i hope you enjoy this fic! i return from an unexpectedly long hiatus with a three-part fic and i hope that all my other readers enjoy this short-fic too! a note to all readers — there’s no y/n here, the reader’s nickname for the fic is sky. that’s all from my end! happy reading!

part one — and you are?

word count: 3, 380

part one | ... | ....

As a Consular, you were trained to study the deepest abyss of the Living and the shrouded myths of the Cosmic. Albeit well-trained with a lightsaber, being a Jedi meant forsaking weapons for words. Diplomacy over bloodshed. Knowledge, insights, and lessons instead of learning the different ways of besting war-mongering droids and bureaucrats.

You look back at the looming hallways of the Temple, letting out a sigh as you turn around to watch the warships meander above the setting skies through the windows. The sun used to shine brighter, you think, but perhaps it’s the shadows that don’t let the light reach the galaxy anymore.

A Nubian ship soars between where the indigo darkens the pale orange in the sky and another wave of longing and sorrow digs deeper into your heart.

It had been almost a standard week since the Five Hundred and First Legion had arrived for their monthly rotation to protect Coruscant.

“Let’s hope we make it a week and not get called back to bust some Seppies since the 501st seems to be the only competent one to get some wins.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that had tugged at your lips.

“Don’t let Obi-Wan hear you say that.”

A deep rumble of laughter had echoed through Anakin’s chest and he’d pulled you into his embrace. It hadn’t taken a Force-sensitive to sense the happiness spread through your body, or that the same happiness had made him glow in the sea of shadows drowning the Force. He smelled just like he always did — fuel, probably the one from Malastare, since the scent always tingled your skin, and kyber, his bond with the second crystal coursing through his year-old arm. The spark of the Force, you called it, the crystal accepting the machine as a part of him.

But there was something more. You stiffened, the soft, sweet scent making you sneeze, making you draw back and—

“Since when in the name of Maker did you start wearing nlorna fruit-scented perfume?”

His cheekbones immediately stained red, shock dripping from every inch of his face until the charm and delight took over for the damage control.

“Some reporter tried to get up too close while I was on my way to the Temple.”

You laughed it off, knowing very well the Chancellor had banned journalists to enter the Temple after an incident involving three women, two men, and a food fight in the barracks had ended with Commander Cody coming off with a sprained neck and handing nearly half of the 212th two days’ worth of time of cleaning the trooper barracks on Coruscant. There were admirers of General Kenobi and on the other hand, well, admirers even Kenobi couldn’t negotiate with.

Obviously, it wouldn’t take an idiot to know. Anakin had always confided everything to you. He’d considered you as the best of his friends — the point which had exactly been the problem for the past two years. But you knew he was keeping something. You knew it, and the realization of it had cracked through whatever strength you always mustered whenever he smiled at you with those blue eyes — always so tired. Ones that had come to no one else to you for caf, for stories about your mind-blowing inventions, always teasing you about the time you had created such a fluffy pillow for Master Yoda’s backaches that it had taken him the collective efforts of the Council to wake him up from his slumber. You had never known what had happened in Master Yoda’s chambers, but the Council had learned not to disturb the centuries-old master from his sleep ever since then.

Anakin would continue on and on, narrating the tales of his adventures across the galaxy, while you kept on wondering when he’d slip like he usually did and confirm your worst fears.

But you never got the chance. The war grew on, spreading its tentacles to the corners of the Outer Rim to the point where the once full hallways of the Temple had never been so desolate, so hollow and abandoned. Every attempt of studying the Force your meditation had ended up just easing the mighty power as it writhed under the screams of terror, of the losses of life and the constant blasts and booms of missiles and bombs.

Just when you wished for some peace in the Temple, word had spread of spies in the Senate. You had joined Anakin and Obi-Wan to watch another one of the Senate’s heated sessions. The Chancellor’s bony fingers extended across the air, his steel voice commanding Senator Orn Free-Taa to shut down his baseless arguing against Senator Organa. But the senator from Ryloth simply refused to back down, until another pod smoothly drifted to join the three, the air ringing with the determination and tranquility brought forth by none other than Padmé Amidala.

The bond between you and Anakin flared up, something so bright and looming, such beauty and danger filling your soul till it vanished with a spark. You looked at Anakin, who had been clapping with the surrounding senators, his radiant smile only and only for no one but the occupant of the Nubian pod.

For so long, you had wondered who it was he’d found, had been so desperate for an opportunity to see, maybe echo some made-up protest or remark that’d dull his interest and make him come back to you no matter how selfish it sounded. But it was hard for you to ignore the goodness in Padmé’s heart, her resilience easing the Force in a way you never could, no matter how much time you spent studying it, meditating to repair its cracks and tear apart the veins of darkness shrouding its light.

Anakin Skywalker had fallen in love, and it wasn’t you. It was someone else and you… you were simply too late.

You let out a sigh, watching the Nubian ship disappear between the tall skyscrapers of the ecumenopolis. The scrolls on your table rustle for your attention, and you heavy-heartedly oblige, going back to once again analyze another countermeasure against the Separatists, who were now rumored to have created some sort of machine that could decimate entire civilizations — a planet-killer, the informant had said, before being poisoned to death.

You set down the scrolls with a heavy thump. Ever since Padmé, Anakin hardly ever came to visit. Ever since this stupid rumor of the Separatists’ planet-killer, the governing body of the entire galaxy looked up to you for solutions, for answers. They had offered you a chunk of kyber crystal retrieved from Ilum stolen by the Separatists and then recovered by Master Yoda himself. They demanded a weapon, sharply silencing your idea of diplomacy.

You wished for Anakin to maybe visit you, to just… just forget the karking war for five freaking minutes and let his childhood lullabies lull you to a restful slumber. Instead, you were drilling your gaze on the kyber crystal covering under a massive rug, the strength of the Force humming within a wonder for your meditation, the crystal’s deathly blue glow the bane of your sleep.

But that was the point. Maybe just forget the war. It did seem never-ending; one day the Republic won, the Separatists in the other. There was simply no end in sight. The number of lives to save was steeply increasing, missing civilians and dead soldiers bruising the Republic’s morale. Your master had been one of the unfortunate Jedi to pass into the Cosmic Force on Geonosis. Some of the padawans you had formed friendships with were now soldiers scattered across the galaxy. The Council was too busy arguing about matters behind closed doors, matters in half of which you were indirectly involved in. Anakin was away most of the time, the Hero With No Fear too busy to worry about his best friend who had so foolishly violated her morals and had fallen in love with him.

Isn’t that what you had exactly trained yourself to avoid?

“It’ll pass.”

You scoff at your Master’s words ringing in your head. The anger simmering in your bones builds up to a crescendo, and makes its presence known with the shatter of your sensor arrays on the opposite wall. Glass shards litter your laboratory, blood trickling down the lines of your palms, your exhausted tears joining the red dripping on the floor.

A soft twang bends the air in the room and echoes through the Force. The hair on the back of the neck rises sharply, and you watch the kyber in bewilderment. The deathly blue behind the rug hums stronger. Your equipment breathes to life, and your teary eyes squint in confusion, rushing toward the kyber as an invisible force possesses your machinery to run diagnostics on its own.

The deathly blue turns as bright as the Coruscanti sun shining at the Core, lighting up the edges of the galaxy with a power rivaling the one you and so many others before you control. You shield your eyes, stumbling over boxes and books detailing advancements of the past. Your equipment spits electric sparks, and you cower behind your arms.

“Stop it—STOP!”

The glow dies, the light in your laboratory returning to just as it was before. You launch into a fit of coughs, waving your hands to disperse the smoke filling the lab. You tune your senses and reach out into the Force.

The wave of a horrifying scream slams into you, knocking you off your feet. You summon the Force again, hoping the mystical power can help you steady yourself. But you freefall toward the table of sharp-edged screws and bolts until you’re pulled forward headlong towards a figure.

You regain your balance, fingernails digging into a smooth fabric covering a rock-hard chest. A tendril of warmth and concern wraps around your Force signature, and you look up at your savior.

“Anakin!”

You wrap your arms around his neck, breathing him in, all of him— wait, was that cabbage and banthaweed? Oh, who in the maker gave a shit — was he alright? Was he—

Your train of thought crashed to a halt as you draw back, gazing at Anakin before you. Your heart rate accelerates to a speed you can’t bring yourself to control, and you pray to the Maker he doesn’t hear it.

He’d done something to his hair. It was longer now, falling just below his shoulder and partly tied back, streaks of light brown and grey near his temples. Loose shirts and trousers and softer tones of beige and brown had replaced his dark, billowing robes. Most of all, you’re aware of his stormy blue eyes roving over you, wide-eyed in absolute shock.

“Hi.”

There’s a strange breath in the greeting that escapes him, one that makes you gulp; his throat visibly bobs as he clenches his jaw. The movement makes you realize there are two feet between you and him. Two feet away from the thunderous storm that is always Anakin Skywalker.

To your surprise, there’s no storm raging before you, nothing but a serene sun shining bright, its warm tranquillity reminding you of the one time you and Anakin had snuck off-world to Naboo as padawans. He’d promised the summers there at the time were delightful, and true to his words, they really were.

You reach out, intertwining your fingers with his, and meet flesh instead of cold metal.

You yelp, harshly flinching backwards. Anakin’s eyebrows shoot up in concern and he raises both his hands in an attempt to placate you. You’re horrified as you see his right arm, no longer a prosthetic but actual flesh.

“Sky!”

A sharp voice rings through the dimly-lit hallways, footsteps running their way towards you, and Anakin Skywalker skids to a stop at the threshold of your laboratory.

“Sky, are you—”

He halts his question mid-way, acknowledging the presence of the man standing right beside you.

There’s a moment of silence that passes between the two stunned men, before the Jedi-clad Anakin ignites his lightsaber, pointing the laser tip toward his long-haired double.

“Sky, get behind me.”

“Wha—” You whirl toward him with an indignant expression and your hands on your hips. “Do you think I’m incapable of defending myself?”

“No, I don’t—”

“On the contrary,” the long-haired Anakin speaks, his voice mellifluous and silvery, “I think not.”

You and Anakin pause in beginning another one of your bickering sessions, Anakin’s lightsaber still leveled against his double.

“Who in the hell are you?”

“Anakin Skywalker?” the long-haired Anakin answers again in the same tone, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “And you must be…”

“Anakin Skywalker,” says your Anakin, the height of his lightsaber inching slowly to the ground, utterly confused.

Shit.

“Well, this is interesting.”

The three of you swerve toward Obi-Wan standing in the doorway, arms crossed as he strokes his beard while Cody’s eyes are going to pop right off of his skull, witnessing one Anakin standing on each of your sides. Captain Rex, on the other hand, just aged a standard decade more with the lines appearing on his forehead.

“Stand down, Anakin. There’s no need for… that,” Obi-Wan ends rather admonishingly, though stunningly failing, still roiling from his possible lack of sleep — or the shock of seeing a copy of his former padawan.

Anakin’s lightsaber retracts into its hilt, and Obi-Wan turns to you.

“Consular Sky.”

Double shit.

“Are you alright?”

Oh, thank Maker—“Yes, Master Kenobi,” you nod fervently, not knowing whether you’re doing a good job of convincing Obi-Wan or yourself. “I’m completely fine, all thanks to Anakin.”

“It’s no problem, Sky.”

“You’re welcome.”

Anakin shoots a glare at, well, the long-haired Anakin, who shrugs with a relaxed raise of his eyebrows.

Obi-Wan looks like he’s about to faint right then and there, but the negotiator that he’s always been, he schools his expression just in time before anyone else can comment on it.

“Could you tell us what happened here, Sky?”

You look around your laboratory, trying to find an answer to the same question evidently ringing loud in everyone else’s minds.

Something along the lines of your nighttime reading pops up in your mind, and you cringe inwardly.

Double shit.

Obi-Wan’s expression settles into the one he’s always worn whenever he’s attending another one of the Council’s meetings.

Triple shit.

“Well, I don’t think I need to tell you where we’re going next, are we?”

“Which is the point here—”

The room’s attention turns back to the long-haired Anakin, eyes twinkling bright with the same softness as the time of his appearance.

“Where exactly are we going?”

Maker, he had to ask.

“From another universe, this version of Skywalker is?”

You grit your teeth and find the courage to nod.

Master Yoda grips his cane even tighter. Honestly, you really want to pity the old master, but Master Windu sits right next to him, clearly grouchy at being disturbed from the sleep he probably got after weeks and weeks of leading attack and rescue campaigns.

“How is this even possible?” Master Koon’s voice rumbles through his mask, sharp and alert despite the drowsiness emanating from a majority of the Jedi Council.

“Well, Master Koon, there’s the multiverse theory,” you speak, voice slightly quivering. “It’s clear our universe isn’t the only one that exists. There are thousands of worlds out there with billions and trillions of lifeforms. But they’re distantly separated from ours, just like all others. For all we know, they might have their own laws of physics, their own collections of stars and galaxies — that is, if stars and galaxies can exist in those universes,” you stop a nervous hiccup and continue. “—and maybe even their own intelligent civilizations.”

“Is this true, then?” Master Windu leans forward with his signature soul-scanning glare. “Are you truly from another universe? Or just another shapeshifter?”

All other Council members swerve their heads toward the long-haired Anakin standing on your right.

“I assure you, Master Windu,” the other Anakin shrugs lightly. “I am not from here. I—”

He takes a second to look around, his gaze turning distant.

“I will admit I have been here before, in the Temple, though this one does look incredibly different from the one I was raised and trained in.”

Several pairs of eyebrows shoot up in surprise, even Anakin’s, who stands just in the corner behind where Obi-Wan has himself perched on another one of the Council chairs.

Master Windu recovers from his internal heart attack and focuses his line of sight on you.

“How did this happen?”

“Honestly, even I’m not sure, Master Windu,” you admit. “I did nothing of any sort to the crystal, it just started to glow, and the next thing I know—”

“I’m here,” the other Anakin finishes, eyes twinkling in some sort of amused annoyance.

Master Yoda taps his cane, and the Council’s incoming deliberations surrender to silence.

“Will of the Force, it seems, that this Skywalker has been sent here. Aid us, harm us, know that, I do not.”

He flutters his eyes close for a brief second, tendrils of his power hesitantly coiling around you and the other — long-haired — Anakin before refocusing them on you.

“Consular—” you stiffen as Master Yoda blurts out your name. “—find a way to send this Skywalker to his home, your task it is. Help you, our Skywalker will. Lead Captain Rex and the Five-Oh-First, Master Kenobi will—”

Behind Obi-Wan, Anakin steps forward to protest.

“—Temporarily, till resolved, the situation is.”

Anakin stops to stand on your left, the slight touch from his elbow a sign of comfort and reassurance.

“Important I feel, it is, to send this Skywalker home. Stay longer, he must not. At war, we already are. Already upon us, the shadows of the Sith are.”

The long-haired Anakin’s eyebrows raise.

You sigh inwardly. I’ll explain it to you later.

He relaxes, and you turn toward your Anakin, who gazes at his counterpart with a strange mixture of suspicion and something along the lines of annoyance.

“Send him home quickly, you must, Consular,” Master Yoda speaks with an inspired urgency. “Terrible it will be, I sense if the Sith find him. Not just for Jedi, but for the Galaxy, also.”

Your Anakin moves closer, his fingertips brushing yours, a tingling sensation itching yours to touch his.

You focus your gaze on the masters before you and bow down with both Anakins, nodding towards Yoda and Windu.

“Master Kenobi will show our guest to his new quarters.”

Obi-Wan seems relieved at finally being allowed to stretch his legs as he strides over to the long-haired Anakin.

“Come along,” the master pauses before smiling in his wise and incredibly tired ways. “Anakin.”

The other Anakin offers a cordial nod and turns to you.

“I suppose I’ll be seeing you later.”

He poses it as a question of sorts. You don’t take time to dissect his intentions, having no energy to do so with the day’s certainly turbulent events and give him a nod.

“Thank you.”

Your eyes slightly twitch in alertness as he offers you a bright, albeit tired smile. Before you can respond or react, he’s already followed Obi-Wan to his quarters, having long disappeared around the nearby corner.

“Sky?”

Your Anakin puts his hand — the metal hand — on your shoulder.

You can practically feel the gears of his joints creaking to ensure his touch stays gentle, despite knowing very well he could easily crush your lung right now with the frustration nagging at his veins.

“It’s nothing, Anakin,” you answer before he can voice his worries out loud. “I’ll be fine—we better get some sleep, lots of work to do.”

Anakin nods, letting go of you with a soft smile. With a sweep of his robes, he walks out of the Council chambers.

You finally let out the breath you’d been holding; the image of both of their smiles filling your vision much clearer than they were supposed to.

Quadruple shit.

to be continued...

thank you so so much for reading! if you'd like to be added to the tag list, comment below! <33

gif credits to @nowadayz

cross-posted on AO3 <33

part one | ... | ....

this man will be the death of me.

luke figuring out reader's father is obi-wan. like, it would be so awkward talking to obi-wan's force ghost now, "how am i suppose to tell him you're my partner?" 😭😭

general kenobi | luke skywalker

pairing: luke x kenobi!reader

word count: 1,1k

summary: where luke finds out who y/n's father is

a/n: how my mind works: if obi-wan is y/n's father, then satine has to be her mother lmao (it's not mentioned!) there is just no other way for me

warnings: none

universe: star wars

"W-What did you just say?", Luke stutters, halting in his steps, his eyes growing wide while he looks at you as if you just turned into a rancor right before his eyes. Since he stopped you in the middle of your rant with this kind of expression on his face, you frown, not quite sure what he wants you to repeat since you just kept talking and talking.

"Uhm, I just said that we are going to carry out this mission without any problems..?", you say, but it sounds more like a question since you are feeling really unsure as his facial expression does not change. Judging by his big eyes and open mouth, this was apparently not the answer he was hoping for and even though you are confused, you can't help but find him especially cute right now.

Usually, Luke has a strict plan, always following every order, but right now it seems like there is no logical explanation for whatever is going on in his mind and you genuinely can't wait to know what caused this sudden change in his demeanour.

"N-No, no. I mean about your.. your father?", Luke tries again, but this time he actually seems like his mind has stopped spinning and he came back to the here and now, looking at you like you are the one acting weirdly. Which you definitely aren't, but you can't suppress a small giggle as he appears to hang on your every word in this moment. Now that he mentioned your father, you at least know what caught him off guard and you can hopefully help him.

"Oh, about that. Well, I basically only said that I will guide you the same way my father used to guide yours in the Clone Wars", you shrug nonchalantly, still not getting why this simple fact got him all messed up.

"And your father is...?"

"Obi-Wan Kenobi?", you finish his sentence, giving him the answer he has been waiting for. Suddenly, Luke's eyes grow even bigger - if that is even humanly possible - and now you are not sure if you may have actually turned into a rancor right in front of him. But no, you are still very much human and Luke is still very much acting weird.

"Luke? Are you alright? Do I need to call a medic?", you ask, actually concerned now that he hasn't answered you for at least two minutes. He is just standing in front of you, frowning as he seems to be connecting things in his head. The more you look at him, the more it dawns on you what your words might have to do with all of this.

"Wait, you didn't know?", you question, a more or less humourless chuckle leaving your lips as you can't believe that he actually did not know this very important fact about you. About you and who your father is.

"You only told me about your mother, really. And you never dropped any names! I knew your father was a Jedi but not that he was the Obi-Wan Kenobi!", Luke whisper-yells at you now, finally regaining his voice, looking like his whole view of the galaxy was shattered with this one single statement.

The way he runs his hand through his hair, ruffling through it, and how he bites down on his lower lip, finally breaks you and you erupt into a fit of laughter. He looks so cute, all flabbergasted and confused, that you just can't help yourself but to laugh at the weirdness of this situation. You would really like to say that you did talk about your very prominent father, but right now, you can't think of one moment where you actually dropped his name. And this makes you laugh even more and, slowly but surely, Luke starts to laugh too.

"May I introduce myself?", you manage to bring out after your laughter died down, hands on your hips as you try to catch your breath, feeling exhausted by all the laughing. "I'm Y/N Kenobi. At your service, General Skywalker."

Holding out your hand, you wait for him to place a gentle kiss on the back of it as part of your introduction, but Luke only shakes his head in amusement, still too caught up in his thoughts.

"You can't be serious, Y/N!", he almost reproaches you, running his hands over his face while sighing. Then, he takes a step closer, grabbing your hand and placing it against his chest as he leans in.

"How am I supposed to tell him that you are my partner? That we are a thing?", Luke whispers, but he is doing it so quietly as if he expects your father to listen in on every word, putting strong emphasis on his last words.

"I mean, that is not really my problem, is it?", you tease him, taking his proximity to you as a chance to place a soft kiss on his cheek, which riles him up even more. Caressing his cheek with one hand, you fix his disheveled hair with the other and smile your brightest smile at him while he apparently sees his life passing by.

"You are evil, you know that right?", Luke whines, pouting while you are enjoying this more than you probably should. But deep inside, you got a feeling that your father already knows about the two of you. You certainly did not talk to him about it, however, he has always been good at observing and you feel like this ability got even better since he became one with the Force.

"Just.. don't act like you did right now and you will be fine", you giggle, pinching his cheek before leaving a quick kiss on his lips. You catch his eye, wanting him to say something, anything, but all you see is utter fear. Only when you notice that he is looking at something behind you, you follow his stare and see your father, in all his Force ghost glory, making his way over to the both of you.

"Oh, is that Leia over there? I really need to talk to her about the mission", you lie with a bright smile on your lips and you squeeze Luke's hand to give him strength and support.

Completely frozen, he stands in front of you, but he somehow manages to take a deep breath after a few seconds to mentally prepare himself for what is about to come. The strongest Jedi you know nearly gets defeated by a simple conversation with your father, his master.

"I will leave you two alone then", you say your goodbye, waving to your father who is coming closer as you two talk, and make your way to actually find Leia. Turning around one last time, you give your boyfriend a thumbs up which he only replies to with a small smile.

Luke Skywalker is a great fighter, a Jedi who always finds a way out, who always has a plan, who can face the strongest opponent, but the one person he can't face right now is your father. And when he does, as your boyfriend, it is not as bad as expected.

SHADOW AND BONE (2021—) 2.08 — No Funerals

You are now Din Grogu, Mandalorian apprentice.

#so you have chosen death

those people who said they wanted to see Din Djarin on his knees. are you happy now?? LMAO

did paz viszla just "sacrifice" himself knowing DAMN WELL he has a son? man, i don't know anymore.

As a fic writer, i need every reader to know that:

I don’t care if your comment is coherent. I know what you mean and i love you

I don’t care if you ramble. I read every word and i love you

I don’t care if you leave a comment on a fic from four years ago or leave comments/kudos on like ten of my fics in one go. This isn’t IG, pls stalk my AO3. I love you

I don’t care if you mention the same thing in your comment that four other people have already mentioned. It’s actually really useful to know what resonated with people and I love everyone who takes the time to tell me they liked a particular turn of phrase

I don’t mind if your comment is super long or just a couple of sentences, i love them all

I love you

All that pain and misery. And loneliness. And it just made him kind.

#YES SIR I’M SAT SIR

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Keep reading

She may not look like much, but she’s got it where it counts, kid

I had to go back to this because it was so good. It was quite confusing with the dialogues (like, which character speaks. Because, it's a nice rule; a new paragraph should be started every time a new person is speaking to avoid confusion). Overall; check this blog out, they're so cool !!

The Mandalorian and The Jedi

gif by: frodo-sam

Chapter 1 of The Unforgiving Series!

summary: It was a normal day until you met the mandalorian of your dreams (literally)

word count: 5.5k

content: din djarin x f!jedi!reader, kuiil x platonic!reader, nightmare, canon typical violence, brief mention of blood, slow burnn

a/n: wooo first chapter~~ this is my first time really fleshing out a character's motivations and creating a detailed backstory, so i hope i wrote it in a way that made you want to find out more about her :") this is the longest fic i've ever written omg... if i delayed posting this chapter any longer i could just keep editing and fixing things and it was stressing me out and i promised i'd post it today, so here it is! any feedback is greatly appreciated 🤲 if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist pls don't hesitate to tell me! anyways that's all for now! i hope u like this chapter!!

Nevarro - 9 ABY

It’s been a year since you’ve arrived here. A year since you decided to settle on a volcanic, ashen planet, called Nevarro. It wasn’t your first choice of places where you wanted to settle, it literally being a haven for bounty hunters in the Outer Rim… Nonetheless, it was relatively quiet where you were. That's what you wanted, peace and quiet — right?

In the past decade, you never had a place to call home. You were a nomad of sorts, always moving, never staying in one place for more than a year. You didn't want to deal with the possibility of forming new relationships, that was something you wanted to stay far away from. And now that you've hit the one year mark — so close to saying you've broken the one rule you've followed diligently for so long — if you said that you weren't proud of yourself, it would be a lie. 

It was definitely a hitch in your plans when you were quickly made aware of the existence of a certain neighbor of yours (your only one), when he came so far as to welcome you, as he hasn’t had a neighbor in years. Living not too far off from where you were, he had even prepared you a traditional Ugnaught dish as a gift. You were apprehensive to be on the receiving end of such a kind gesture — most people were not that kind. But your neighbor was not most people, and in your final assessment, you had deemed him not a threat as you had sensed no ill will in his actions.

The overly-friendly Ugnaught called himself Kuiil and he was a moisture farmer. A kind man that offered you work, probably after taking note of your lack of wealth upon seeing your unkempt, barely furnished home. Your work entailed making sure his farm was well kept and taking care of his blurrgs, to which you had humbly accepted. Options were limited to say the least, not unless you wanted to work at a cantina with people or even worse — do bounty work. The idea of having to join a guild did not entice you one bit. And the only person you had to be around was a nice old man, you could hardly complain.

After some months, the two of you formed a mutually beneficial relationship where Kuiil had extra help around the farm including protection — and you, a job. 

Kuiil had also made the annoyingly kind habit of checking up on your mental state. Asking you (an emotionally constipated person) how you were feeling and like routine, you would tell him that you're fine, but of course, Kuiil, a man that you've barely knew for a few months, could see right through your front and could tell when some days were tougher than others. In return for his kindness, you made sure to protect the peace that was created on his farm as well as protecting its less than amiable, beastly inhabitants.

Even after a year of being the only company the two of you had, you continued to maintain a certain level of distance from Kuiil. He knew when not to push your limits when regarding your past and you appreciated that. Despite your reserved nature, he had opened up to you about his early life and how he had been forced to spend it in servitude to the Galactic Empire. Whenever you think about what he’s been through and who he had to serve makes your blood boil with anger.

Your time on Nevarro gave you a sense of normalcy — or how you would imagine what having a normal life would be like.

And it was peaceful for a time, that is, until an influx of bounty hunters started to come through Kuiil’s place trying to hunt down a certain quarry. It got so hectic to a point that multiple bounty hunters would come by asking him for some sort of help (to which he always agreed to), it was a hindrance, really. A hindrance to your wonderful plans of living a somewhat solitary life. 

The Ugnaught had asked you once, if you could do something to help, as he had taken note of your skill, despite you not being exactly forthcoming with all of your capabilities. But you had declined. As you stated that it wasn't your problem and that the effort was simply not worth the trouble. He was not pleased with your answer, but for the most part kept his disapproval to himself.

However, if you saw another bounty hunter asking for help from your Ugnaught neighbor again, you were going to drop kick them to the next sector.

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙✧⋆｡° ✩ ☼⋆｡° ✩☽︎˖⁺｡˚⋆˙✧⋆

Darkness surrounded you. The only source of light appeared from a crack in the wooden door of your closet. Heart pounding rapidly, chest heaving, helpless to stop the horrific event before you. You're on the floor, knees being held close to your chest, as you try to make yourself as small as possible. Rocking yourself back and forth in hopes that this was all a sick dream. A gloved hand begins to reach for the doorknob — and you scream.

Your eyes snap open and your body is upright in a flash, blaster already in your hand, aimed at any semblance of a threat — only to realize there is none. You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe. Repeating those familiar words to yourself as you lower the blaster. Sighing heavily as you fall back onto the bed, rubbing at your sleep deprived eyes, moonlight glistening through the crevices of your hands.

You force yourself to get out of bed and you stumble clumsily, nearly tripping over your own feet. Eventually, you make it to the bathroom to splash your face with water, soaking your long sleeve up to your elbows in the process. You grip the sink as best as you can with trembling hands while your head is down, focusing solely on your breathing in an attempt to calm your senses.

As you lift your head and look into the mirror, you shudder. You’re face to face with your 6 year old self, her eyes emotionless and her finger pointing at you in blame. Your heart seizes when you see that her face is splattered in a thickly crimson glaze — like it was melting away at her innocence from the outside in. No, no, no. You shook your head weakly, bringing your hand to cover your face as you sunk to the floor. It’s not real. It’snot real. It’snotreal.It’snotreal.It’snotreal.It’snotreal.

After some time, when the panic subsided and the shaking stopped, you will yourself to get up from the now, damp ground and prepare for yet another day ahead.

It was a normal day like any other, riding with Kuiil to check the perimeter, that is, until you found someone being attacked by a wild blurrg. Your original thought was: Oh look, it's yet another bounty hunter looking to cause trouble, but what you saw was not what you expected. 

It was a Mandalorian. 

Still, technically a bounty hunter, but it was something new.

On the outside you may have looked normal. Cold, intense stare and all, but inside — your mind was reeling, having seen this particular Mandalorian before. Not in person anyway, but in your dreams. They looked a bit different, perhaps due to the lack of silver beskar, but you couldn’t deny the similarities. On top of that, you haven't seen their kind in years, having believed the survivors were still in hiding after the Great Purge, so this had to mean something. 

You sent a look over to Kuiil in question, as if to ask, should we save them? Even though you very well knew what his answer would be.

He returned with a stern look as if to say, is that even a question, go!

You brought out your blaster instantaneously and shot the blurrg with a dart, swiftly immobilizing it. The struggling Mandalorian thanked you in between grunts while pulling himself out from underneath the wild animal. You only nodded in response, keeping your blaster at hand and it shook ever so slightly. Maker. Remnants of the nightmare still permeated your mind and it — your weakness, was displayed out in the open, to a stranger no less. Your frustration did not go unnoticed by the mercenary.

With your features hidden by the mask, due to the dusty nature of Nevarro, made it so the Mandalorian could only see your eyes. Even so, he was able to catch a glint of emotion that you tried so hard to conceal. It didn’t go unnoticed on your end either, that the eyes that bore into your intense ones were unable to tear their own gaze away.

“You are a bounty hunter,” it’s not a question, Kuiil has seen them enough times to know and it releases the Mandalorian from his trance, and he confirms. 

“I will help you. I have spoken.”

You ride off first, not dwelling on the show of weakness that you’ve just shown, but instead you roll your eyes at your oh-so-welcoming-to-bounty-hunters boss.

“Why are you always so quick to bring strangers into your home? One of these days you're gonna get yourself killed.” You give Kuiil a hushed scolding as you so often find yourself doing these days. 

“Are you alright?” He countered instead, noticing how you looked especially disheveled this morning. “Hey, don’t try and change the subject,” you chide, “But yeah. Don’t worry, I’m fine. I just… had a rough night.” You don’t explain further and he takes what he can get, responding with an unbelieving hum.

The two of you approach his home, with the Mandalorian following loosely behind and finally Kuiil replies, in jest, “If you’re so worried about my safety why don’t you stay and watch him.” 

There was no answer to that — unless you wanted to acknowledge your concern for him is anything more than what you're paid to do. To the silence, Kuiil simply says, “I have spoken.” And walks into his home with the Mandalorian following in step, who tilts his helmet your way briefly in greeting. After he enters, you lower your mask to aggressively huff a breath of air, blowing away the stray strands of hair from your face and eventually entering Kuiil’s home reluctantly.

As you speak quietly to Kuiil, the Mandalorian sits on the right side of the room, beskar covered body, crouched, due to the size of the hut. 

“If he so much as tilts his head the wrong way, I’ll shoot him.” And as you walk over to sit on the other side of the room, you feel his eyes trained on you — for reasons you are sure of to be because he somehow heard you threaten to blast him. Unbeknownst to you, he was just in awe as it was his first time seeing your unmasked face.

“Many have passed through. They seek the same one as you.” Kuiil monotony states, just as he had to the countless others before the Mandalorian.

You take this time to actually look at the armored man across the room. Taking note from earlier that instead of silver, he wore red beskar, with various weapons adorned all over his body. But the helmet remained the same as from your dream. From the diligently polished beskar helmet, to the well worn boots on his feet, you could allude that he was someone who took great pride in his culture. His energy radiated a loyal and reserved soul.

“Did you help them?” He asks, voice low and modulated.

“Yes. They died.” Well that's putting it simply, Kuiil.

The Mandalorian tilts his head in wariness, “Well, then I don’t know if I want your help.” You snicker, sensing his gaze falling onto you before Kuiil continues, “You do. I can show you to the encampment.”

“What’s your cut?” He asks as he turns back to Kuiil and he simply replies in his usual Kuiil fashion, “Half.”

Before leaving, you spoke directly to the Mandalorian for the first time,  “He means half of the blurrg you helped capture.'' It’s become a recurring theme that people found it difficult to make sense of the way in which the Ughnaught spoke, and this was the first and only instance where you had offered any clarification to a passing bounty hunter, to which Kuiil subtly took note of this.

You decided to leave, seeing as your worries were misplaced after sensing zero hostility from the newest bounty hunter to pass through Kuiil’s place. But if you were being honest, you left early because you felt drained from this morning’s ordeal. You didn't have the energy to listen to these two strike a deal and quite frankly, you just needed to be alone. 

So you grabbed some food from Kuiil’s kitchen and bid him goodbye, giving the Mandalorian a brief nod of acknowledgement as well. He returns the gesture. When you exit, you don’t hear a definitive agreement, but you sensed that he would be willing to go through with Kuiil’s plan.

You took off on your blurrg and rode to what you called “home” for the past 12 months. It was a small and quaint place, and from the lack of personalization, a passerby would assume that no one lived here. You barely had any items that were precious to you, most things being destroyed or lost proved it difficult.

Briefly glancing at the wooden box in the corner of your room, you couldn’t shake the feeling of the object inside calling to you, almost like it knew you would call upon it in due time. You subconsciously reach towards it before stopping yourself. Instead, you toyed with the chain of your crystal necklace, lost in thought.

After regaining your composure, you prepared the rations you stole from Kuiil’s earlier before beginning your night routine. A routine that consists of doing everything you can to not sleep.

Oh, sleep. What was once something you looked forward to at the end of a day. Although many moons have passed since you've felt that way, sleeping wasn't the issue, it was the nightmares that came with it. 

In the past decade, many of your sleepless nights were caused by the nightmares that found themselves invading the confines of your mind. A place that was meant to be sacred and shielded, was now only home to your ghosts, your regrets, and your grievances.

It was like an endless loop. If you felt you were making strides getting past your pain and trauma, your thoughts would come back to haunt you in the depths of the night, entertained at your futile attempts of finding peace.

You couldn't dismiss your gut feeling that these dreams were a manifestation of your mind being in some vicious conflict with a foreign entity. Like red blood cells attacking the invading pathogen in order to prevent illness — you couldn't quite explain it. These dreams felt skewed — something separate from the reality you’ve always known. The uncertainty and distrust of your own recollection was slowly tearing away at the seams of your sanity. It made you want to split your brain in two.

In light of that, something to mention was that nights weren't always so bad. 

When you're lucky, your dreams had nothing to do with your past. Sometimes they would just be signs from the force reaching their omniscient hands for you, even in slumber. These “force dreams” that you had called it, had given you what few good nights of sleep you have. That is where you had dreamed about the Mandalorian — it wasn't a dream sequence by any means, it was more like flashes of people or objects. The person that came to you being the Mandalorian in full silver beskar armor, just standing in front of you. And that was usually all the context you got.

In the end, this so-called night routine was a losing game and you know it, but it never discourages you from trying. As the droop of your eyelids becomes harder to manage and your body slowly gravitates towards the plush and softness of your bed. Eyes inevitably shutting closed, you tell yourself as you do every night — I’m only resting my eyes, I'm not gonna sleep…

The next day, to your surprise, you had woken up from the most restful sleep that you’ve had in months. A small thought nagged at the back of your mind that it had something to do with the Mandalorian’s sudden appearance, but you instantly dismissed what you believed was an irrational thought, as you went and got ready for the day. 

Eventually making your way to Kuiil’s, you find yourself witnessing quite a sight before you.

The Mandalorian was being promptly thrown off the blurrg he had been trying to mount for what could've been for the majority of the morning, and you almost felt bad for him. It had been just as bad for you when Kuiil had first coerced you to learn. The mere thought of that time brought shivers down your spine — the countless bumps and bruises you had endured and the mud that clung to every inch of your body was something that was not to be remembered fondly.

As you dismount from your own blurrg, Kuiil greets you with a wave and shouts at the bounty hunter currently on the ground in a starfish position, “Perhaps if you removed your helmet...”

“Perhaps he remembers I tried to roast him.” He grunts out.

Kuiil corrects him, “This is a female. The males are all eaten during mating.”

The Mandalorian just shakes his head and proceeds to get up for another attempt, when he notices you. His shoulders tensing, seemingly self conscious all of a sudden. You walk over to stand beside your neighbor, arms crossed and see the Mandalorian square his shoulders, only to be thrown off once again. You could feel the string of curses going loudly through his metal head.

“I don’t have time for this,” he says impatiently, “do you have a Landspeeder or Speeder bike that I could hire?” He walks over to the two of you. “You are a Mandalorian. Your ancestors rode the great Mythosaur. Surely you could ride this young foal.” Kuiil insists.

He looks over to you like you could somehow help his situation, but you can only raise your brows at him in question as you tip your head in the direction of the blurrg with an encouraging purse of your lip.

He looks between you and the blurrg one last time before trying again. He stalks her slowly, easing her with relaxed words. Approaching her with a newfound determination, you sense the connection formed between the two and are pleasantly surprised when the Mandalorian successfully mounts and rides the blurrg. 

You nod in acknowledgement and you are about to leave to get to work when Kuiil stops you, “Come with us to the encampment. I am in need of your services.”

“What services?” You ask, eyes narrowed. He never asks you to accompany him and whichever bounty hunter that wanted a shot at getting the quarry that day.

“For protection of course. Can’t have an old Ugnaught alone with a scary bounty hunter, right?” Kuiil speaks in a light tone.

“Fine.” You accept begrudgingly, Kuiil always appealing to your slightly protective tendencies.

“Do you have with you your blaster?”

“Of course.” You never leave anywhere without it.

And so the three of you rode off, the two of them in front with you following in tow. It took a journey to get there, but you finally arrived. The three of you, side by side, looked down at the camp when Kuiil states, “That is where you will find your quarry.”

The Mandalorian then tries to offer him payment but he refuses with a shake of his head, “Since these ones arrived, this territory has been an endless stream of mercenaries seeking reward and bringing destruction.” You frown at that.

“Then why did you bring me?”

“They don’t belong here,” you spoke directly to the Mandalorian for the second time since he’s arrived, “The people that live here come to seek peace and there will be no peace until they’re gone.” He stares at you for a moment.

“Then why do you help?” He looks between you and Kuiil.

“I have never met a Mandalorian. I’ve only read the stories. If they are true, you and my friend will make quick work of it. Then there will again be peace.” You snap your head to your friend looking for an explanation, only for Kuiil to turn to leave, “Kuiil.” 

He looks back at you with much finality and resolve “I have spoken.” And just like that, you are left with the Mandalorian. You scoff at the absurdity of it all, “Maker, I hate when he says that.” 

“It’s alright, I don’t need your help. I can do this job on my own.” He says, trying to be as polite as possible while you both get off of your blurrgs. You were quiet for a moment. He didn’t need you? You brushed off the light ache in your chest, he was just another bounty hunter passing through, it wasn’t like you knew him very well — so why was it bothering you so much? The feeling slowly dissipated, but was then quickly replaced by a feeling akin to being splashed in the face with cold water. Nostalgia poured over you from the slightest presence that you could only guess was coming from the encampment. It was a presence familiar to you, often felt when in close proximity to other force sensitives.

Your brows went from furrowed to raised, “Oh, really?” You say, suddenly amused as you glance over to the camp, “I mean — I suppose you're right. But, what would you do if, let’s say, another bounty hunter was here out on the same job as you?”

You could just see the gears turning in his metal head, clearly confused, until he snapped his head over to the encampment and took out his scope to find that you were not talking about a hypothetical situation, but you were talking about what you were seeing.

He sighs in frustration, “Droids.” The way in which he spoke that single word had told you a lot. “Do what you want. That IG unit just made this a lot more complicated.”

You only shrug. You had an inkling that the bounty hunter had not wanted the hassle of bringing a stranger along for his job, but you were going to go with him regardless. You wanted to find out whose presence you were feeling. It had to be the quarry who Mando, and all of the others before him were looking for. Remembering the sensation again and you shoved away the dread creeping at your core, and forced yourself to remain indifferent to whatever the outcome. It’s not your problem.

As you both made it down the hill, the faint energy that you felt earlier grew stronger, and it was coming from the heart of the camp. Before you could move any further the Mandalorian stopped you with an outstretched arm. You look at him in question, “He’ll probably shoot because he won’t know I’m with the guild. So stay behind me and you won’t be hit.” You nod, going along with him, “Makes sense.”

And what do you know, he was right. The second Mando made his presence known, the IG unit aimed his blaster to his chest with an unnatural quickness. Time slows down and focusing solely on your breathing, you feel the outcome already. Hearing the click of the trigger so clearly, grabbing him by the arm, and before Mando could be hit, you immediately shifted his body closer to you, the shot just missing him. 

He was seemingly stunned for a moment, his back just centimeters away from your chest, and the close proximity making him unable to think. But, he quickly recovered, remembering what he was here for.

“I’m in the Guild!”

“You are a Guild member? I thought I was the only one on assignment.”

“That makes two of us,” he says as he motions for you to follow him to a nearby wall as cover, “so much for the element of surprise. And thanks.” He turns to you, "You, you have… very good reflexes.” 

“Don’t mention it.” You said briefly, wanting the topic to be forgotten.

“Sadly, I must ask for your fob. I have already issued the writ of seizure. The bounty is mine.” Well, isn’t this droid annoying.

“Unless I’m mistaken, you are, as of yet, empty-handed.” The IG unit seems to recognize its predicament and willingly agrees to split the reward. 

“— I require an answer if I am to proceed.” While the bounty hunters are busy defining the terms of the agreement, spotting movement from the corner of your eye, you swifty brought out your blaster and shot him, causing him to fall off of the building. “If you guys are done, I think we should get going ~ “ You say in a singsong manner as you walk away, drawing closer to the source of the energy.

You look back to see someone sneak up behind the Mandalorian and without wasting any time you shoot them, the blast just missing the side of his metallic head. He sends his thanks with a nod of his helmet and you continue forward until the tracking fob leads the three of you to a large door. While you’re constantly getting shot at, the IG unit provides good cover for the two of you to get closer, only to find that the door just so happened to be locked. Now you’re surrounded with no way out unless you can somehow get the door open, “ — I will initiate self-destruct sequencing.” The droid suddenly states and both yours and Mando’s head snaps in its direction. “Whoa, you’re what?” 

“Manufacturer's Protocol dictates I cannot be captured. I must self-destruct.”

“Do not self-destruct!” Mando orders.

“Yeah. How about we don’t do that.” You try and say as convincingly as possible to a suicidal droid. 

“Cover me!” You and the IG do what Mando says as he tries what he can to get the doors to open. You’re getting overwhelmed by the heavy blaster fire and you’re starting to wonder if you’ll need to use more than just your blaster. “How’s it going over there?” You shout.

“Go! Go! There’s too many!” He shouts back as he runs to stand beside the droid. You guys continue to return fire but they have you pinned. Through the dust you see the mercenaries bring out a larger weapon. 

You try to get their attention, “Guys?”—“I will initiate self-destruct.”—“Do not self-destruct! We’re shooting our way out.” Mando says not hearing you, as he went around the wall to start shooting.

“Guys!” You repeat. “What!” They finally saw the gun you were warning them about, “Okay,” Mando said as they both quickly returned to their place behind the wall. “New plan!”

You were done with this. Cowering behind a wall, with nothing but a meager blaster at hand — your impatience was painfully obvious. “Argh! Draw their fire! l got this!” You were done waiting and as soon as that blaster rifle turned, you left your position and reached your hand out, grabbing the gunman and launching him up into a wall. “Go!” You shout at Mando because he was just staring at you and he eventually snaps himself out of it and gains control of the rifle to use their own weapon against them. 

You guys continued firing until you finally got rid of them all. By the time you were finished, your heart was beating rapidly in your chest from the adrenaline. From the thrill. You had missed the feeling of wielding the force, the years in hiding and fear of attracting unwanted attention to yourself, prevented you from using the full extent of your powers. The force gave you a sense of comfort and you felt whole again. It made sense for you to feel fulfilled, your relationship with the force being closely utilized for the training you had undergone ever since you were just a child. Combat. Bloodshed. These were integral parts of your character — your livelihood. It was your damn purpose for existing. 

It was already unnatural for you to settle, to be without action and this just cemented the fact that this was not the life for you. Was this why Kuiil had been so adamant for you to help the Mandalorian with his job? For you to realize this?

Collecting yourself with a deep breath, you rejoined the bounty hunters. “You okay?” The Mandalorian sounded concerned about your prolonged absence.

You lightly nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Well, now we just need to get the door open,” you heard Mando say, “uh, do you think you could do something about that?” Oh. He was asking you.

“Yeah. I think I could work something out.” You respond straight faced, with only the slightest hint of amusement in your voice.

Raising your hand in front of the large door, you manipulated the metal like it was merely a piece of paper. The whine of metal crushing pierced through the air and you pushed it to the side, leaving a gaping hole in your wake. Your steps halt, noticing neither bounty hunters following in step with you, “Um, you coming?” Not understanding that you’ve just displayed a literal inhuman amount of power like it was nothing.

Only the droid replies mechanically, “That is physically impossible. I must inquire how you are able to perform such —” “Nope. Not happening.” You did not have enough patience today to be interrogated by a bounty droid. “Are you gonna get this bounty or not?” You look at the ever-so-still Mandalorian at your side, eyebrows raised. The tin can looks like he just blew a fuse and appears to also want to ask a question about your unusual abilities, but thinks better of it, “Yeah.”

Amidst the settling dust, you sensed a lone mercenary holed up in the corner and you step inside first, seemingly checking out some random boxes. You knew what the mercenary would do before he even did it. It was a little show all in good fun, a little game that you liked to play with people who would wish you harm. Feigning ignorance to their advances, and when they so foolishly believe they caught you by surprise, you turn at the perfect moment to see their confidence fall, and see themselves fall at your hand as well.

But what you didn’t account for, was the Mandalorian making quick work of the mercenary and you couldn't deny that he piqued your interest. Was he that important of a mercenary to show up in your dreams? When not a single one of the previous mercenaries ever showed up in your visions, what was so special about this one?

You thanked him and he nodded in response, “Anyone else?” He announces for anyone willing to try and get in our way, only for silence to be returned.

“The tracking fob is still active. My sensors indicate that there is a life form present.” The droid says as the three of you begin to walk towards where the tracking fob’s beeping beats faster and faster with each step you take.

As much as you wanted to head directly towards the source of energy that has been poking at your psyche for the past 40 minutes, you decide it's best for Mando to find the bounty for himself. It is his job after all, nothing that has to do with you. You kicked away your curiosity and reminded yourself that whatever - whoever you find here is just a quarry and nothing else.

The beeping intensifies as it leads Mando to a hovering pram. As he opens it, your breath stalls at what you see next. Two long, furry green ears peeking out of a tattered brown cloth. This couldn’t be the bounty…

“Wait — they said 50 years old.”

“Species age differently. Perhaps it could live many centuries.” The child coos softly as if it had just woken up. “Sadly, we’ll never know.” The IG unit says as it raises its blaster directed to the child. But the Mandalorian stops it with a hand, “No. We’ll bring it in alive.”

But the droid persists, “The commission was quite specific. The asset was to be terminated—” 

Thump. Steam rises from the entry blasts coming out of its head. Simultaneously, thhe pair of you return your blasters into its holsters, “So predictable…” you sigh. The two of you glance at each other in a shared understanding, before redirecting your attention to the quarry. 

“So… this is who all of those bounty hunters were looking for?”

“Yes, but… I didn't know it would be a child.” He responds rather hesitantly.

Keeping your hands at your sides, you watch as the bounty hunter tasked with bringing this quarry to his employers, reaches his gloved hand out to this child and the child also reaches for him.

♡ next chapter →

series taglist: @aheadfullofsteverogers

𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀 / 𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐌𝐀 ;; wednesday addams

Pairing ;; Wednesday Addams x gn!winged!Reader

outline —; Confessing to Wednesday Addams is... something else.

word count —: 2.3k

WARNINGS —: cursing, SUGGESTIVE, LIKE VERY.

themes / tags —: reader is gender-neutral. divina is non-binary.

A/N: reblogs and comments are appreciated. there are some other fics i wanted to write for wednesday. have some gender-neutral divina and reader as dorm mates! and some wings too, may i add. enjoy :)

There is no number or word that can describe love. The only way to describe it is to feel it. To be in it. Similarly, love isn’t a never ending circle, going around and saying the same thing. For centuries, science has explained it too – the love for friends, the love for lovers, the love for parents, the love for certain objects. 

In history, the Greeks have words for love. Sitting in history lessons in one of the many rooms in Nevermore, your wings folded, your eyes staring directly at the board, as the teacher spoke. A school mate, similar to you with wings of down feathers, smiled in your direction, staring intently. 

Some didn’t seem to care about the knowledge they’re learning, some were confused (one of them being you, though, you were just ecstatic that all these people were learning that love isn’t just love). Some were guilty – you knew because you felt them, you felt that they never ‘love’ the way it is expected. 

“Ludus is the playful form of love. This may describe your type of romance; teasing, flirting, and teenage love.” The teacher explained, dragging her tone through the room, the class is quiet, accepting the new form of knowledge into their minds. 

The first period class really had you smiling. A swelled understandment filled your stomach as if it was thirsty for affection and attention. Who knew the Greeks could understand you? In ways more than one. Besides its occasional tales of myths and legends (that you personally indulge in, though too embarrassed to say anything about it), you were surprised that this knowledge is never passed down unto society. 

Only ‘friendship’ and ‘love’ were understood. If the normies altogether had a voice they would probably say; What else is there to it? 

The thought made you snicker. Hours passed; preoccupied students were busy shuffling the hallways, getting ready for the falling night. You watched through the infirmary window as the courtyard emptied out. “You bird!” The nurse called, looking at you with wide eyes. This did not surprise you but it did make you jump in your chair, your feathers in alert mode as you felt ants seeping through your skin. “I told you, this girl, here,” She pointed to Yoko, who snickered in response, hiding her laughter. “She is okay! No need to crowd this place! Look at your wings- Giant!” She reached her hand out, pinching a feather, making you hiss in staggerment. 

“Okay! Okay! I’m just worried about my friend.” You said, cowering out of the door, waving Yoko a goodbye before she could touch the ends of your feathers too. You huffed, wings fluttering in a shiver. The thumping of your own boots thundered in your ears, silencing any form of thoughts that raced through your mind. Silencing the outside world for a while, walking to your dorm subconsciously. 

For a moment, you ceased in a quiet hallway, contemplating whether to comfort Enid in her time of distress. Pending for a second that your wings enclosed in a relaxed position, folding itself. I don’t need to think about this situation, you mentally facepalmed. 

You headed to your dorm, waving a slight hello to Divina. They didn’t let you pass the window though, blocking your view of the outside world before you could fly out. Worry flooded their eyes as they frantically blurted out a word. “The nurse wouldn’t let me-”

You intercepted, putting a hand on their shoulder. “Let you see her? Me too but I’ve seen, Tanaka is fine, it’s just an allergic reaction.” You calmly stated, your wings subconsciously wrapping around them into a hug. They wrapped their arms around your shoulders too, unable to decide whether to hold your waist or back. “She’ll be out before you know it.” You pulled away, smiling. 

Divina nodded, stepping out of the window. “Tell me how your confession goes.” They teased, opening their closet and picking out a jacket. They headed to the bathroom. 

You opened the window, searching for Ophelia Hall in the many buildings until your eyes landed on the half-rainbow cobwebbed window. “Not yours to know,” You yelled in a responsive tone, hands on the railing, keeping your body balanced, poking your head out of the cold air. Making sure that no one is watching, you search left to right as if you were checking a road before crossing. “Nightshades again?” You asked, pushing your head in, grabbing a jacket of your own. 

Divina fixed their hair, responding with a nod. “At least look decent, who are you meeting? Enid or Addams?” They blindly asked. 

Disbelief left your mouth as a laugh. You loudly shut your closet, running up to the window, shutting it down as if anyone could hear from your own dorm. “Do you think Wednesday would care what I wear?” You emphasized clearly on her name, grabbing a hair brush. You rubbed the back of your neck before remembering the reason for your arrival at their dorm. “And anyway, I wanted to see Enid, she’s upset because of…” Your voice trailed, realizing that Divina is the person you’re talking to. You didn’t want to upset her any further, though luckily, she was busy adjusting her necklace to even listen to you. 

Divina smiled playfully. “Well, people say she’s allergic to color. But honestly, she’s pulling off the black and white outfits.” They replied, shrugging. The sneakers they wore dragged a rushed sound. Though it stopped when they turned on their heel to face you again. “Yet, here you are, putting no effort into your fits.” 

You huffed, rolling your eyes, as you leaned into the mirror. “I’m pretty decent, if you ask me. Or Wednesday.” You happily affirmed. 

Divina shrugged in defeat, waving you off. “Just make sure to be there, Bianca hates you.” 

Shaking your head, you opened the window again, jumping up the railing, spreading your wings. “Tell her the feeling is mutual.” With that, you leaped out, snickering at the response ‘that’s jackshit, Xavier hates you too’, spreading your wings to bring yourself up to the window once more, satisfied that Divina took in the words you most definitely meant. You carefully pulled down the window, leaving a big enough gap for your hands to fit in. 

You flew higher, the cold air reaching your whole body. Jacket or not, the cold bothered you. Though, post-autumn has finally worn out. The start of cold winds were scaring you for the snow. And god, were you thankful that you didn’t have to shovel it all? Yes, of course, you were. 

Your feet landed on the cold ground, as wind slightly pushed you back. You flap your wings in the process, creating a whirlwind that nearly knocked out the musical note stand. Thankfully, you weren’t too far to not catch it and disrupt a loud bang. Cold seeped through your footwarmers, each step you took warmed up your body eventually. Since, you couldn’t fit through the window (credits to the wings you carried), instead, you knocked, poking your head in. 

“Enid!” You called on excitedly, only to find her bed empty, neatly arranged. Your head turned to her roommate’s bed. Next to it is a dissatisfied Wednesday, her hands briefly above the typewriter. “Where is she?” You asked, emphasizing your question even more as you raised a brow. 

Wednesday sighed, standing up from her chair. “Sulking and complaining to Ajax or Divina,” She explained, leading you out of the window by giving your forehead a gentle flick. You mouthed an ‘oh’ shape, knowing where that would lead to. Your mind wandered if Ajax could comfort Enid in such a way, because, knowing him — it would be an easy yet ineffective display, mostly because of his tiny, little serpents. 

The scent of Wednesday Addams attained your senses, though, the spinning of the glass window in front of you distracted it. You can see a new addition to the dorm; a giant detective board, with pictures of disgusting pieces of body parts, it almost made you drop and vomit. Almost, not until Wednesday inquired with a furrowed brow (you could tell); “Why is it your concern?” 

You turned, glancing to the back of her head. Walking up to her was easy, taking mental note not to stand too far nor too close, figuring that Wednesday didn’t like close and intimate proximities. “She was upset that Yoko got an allergic reaction again.” You answered truthfully. You saw her shake gently. A swift chance of courage shook your presence. “I also came here to talk to you actually.” 

Wednesday’s mouth dropped into a firm line, almost frowning. Her solemn face returned, however, when she looked at you. “Make it quick.” She commanded. 

You beamed, wings fluttering in excitement, and Wednesday knew it was going to be a long talk, or night, if you made your move. You propped yourself up at the balcony, sitting comfortably, your eyes straightforward. “Don’t you admire your parent’s love for each other?” 

Wednesday is right, she mentally prepared herself for her own upcoming answer, a tiny voice in her throat buried itself until she gave it full thought. “I do, why?” 

You bit your inner cheeks, nodding to your side, as you cleared your throat. “Their love is called Pragma; long standing love.” Shifting your sentences to something less obvious isn’t something you had me mind. “They might’ve had a friendship too, which is Philia.” 

Wednesday raised her brows, an inquiry isn’t something she’ll speak out in these conversations. But then again, she is an Addams, her opinions most likely matter because of the pressure that she instills on them. “Friendship? Before marriage, there’s… friendship?” She tried not to show the hesitant tone that concluded her sentence, a rushed tone dragged the tension. 

You shook your head in a ‘no’, pushing your hair behind your ear. “Not just before marriage, no. It’s something you have before any type of romance.” Without the knowledge of whose dropping these words but you, yourself, obliged you to speak more. Wednesday seemed confounded in your knowledge, conflict reached blood, as it ran cold. 

The thought of you having experienced a friendship that turned into… whatever her parents had, or, as you called it; Philia and Pragma. She had to admit, bearing that sight is a nightmare. 

Grabbing your wrists, Wednesday stood in front of you, holding your waist as you involuntarily yelped without the support of your hand on the cold marble. Her fingers dug into your side, into your jacket, as her eyes trailed in confusion. The girl in front of you blinked, a stricken flick of anger visible in her expressions. “Have you ever loved someone like that?” Wednesday inquired, glancing up at you, she held your gaze, before averting her own. 

The pacing of your heart quickened, lup-dup, lup-dub, lup-dub, lup-dub, lup-dub. Without the huffed breaths, you would’ve fallen in peace. You were certain Wednesday couldn’t catch you, so you managed to stay alive. Taking a breath and moving closer, inch to inch with Wednesday Addams; nose nuzzled, minty breath of yours, mixed with the scent of… coffee? Something of the sort, you couldn’t tell due to your proximity. “You.” 

Surprisingly, Wednesday didn’t back away when you stepped in closer, she only closed the gap that accompanied the two of you. Catching your lips into hers, moving in sync with your own. Her other hand accompanied your lower back, rubbing it in circles. Your hands found freedom in her jaw, cold fingers against it, underlining the perfect structure. 

Wednesday pulled away, catching her breath, forehead against yours. She gave your lips another peck, which you reciprocated. Your eyes gently shut, recalling the last of what you could see was Wednesday’s half-shut eyes. A flooding warm of heat pulled your stomach down as she deepened the kiss. 

Ecstasy engulfed you and (hopefully) Wednesday. 

Forgetting that breathing existed is something you would’ve never forgotten, afterall, not after this. You needed air although worry didn’t cross your mind, not once, when this is happening. Nothing could be processed actually. The only thoughts that occupy your mind is Wednesday, Wednesday, Wednesday, Wednesday. 

You pulled away, chest heaving up and down for breaths, a still laugh erupting from your throat. “Who taught you how to kiss like that?” You asked, cockiness reached your lips, quirking upwards into a smile. You were pulled up with a jerk of her shoulders, diminishing the cruelty that settled on your lips, which were puffy and pink now. 

Wednesday settled in a firm hug, burying her face into your jacket. A quiet sniffle of laughter carefully rolled out of your tongue. She wrinkled her nose, bringing her chin to your shoulders. She responded, bringing her head up. “My parents, they always kiss in front me and my brother.” 

You nodded in understanding, a hum vibrating your chest in response. You closed your eyes in the warmth of her body near you, feeling a tug of your jacket with her fingers. The exposure of your warm, clothed skin to the wind did not make you please. Not until Wednesday’s mouth found closure in your skin, her warm tongue and soft lips sucking on it carefully. 

This made your eyes open in shock, a kept groan couldn’t contain itself, leaving your mouth with no permission. “Addams,” You meekly called, averting your eyes to the side, though, your head jerked up; giving her more skin to attack. “Someone- someone will notice.” You warned, fingers circling her back as an attempt to call after her. 

Wednesday obliged. Though, she smirked at it, noticing the bruise, pulling your jacket back to its place in your neck. A glimpse of visible purple marks accompanied it. An audible groan left your mouth, hiding your face to the side, as your wings wrapped the two of you. “What?” She asked, closely inspecting the wrapped wings that shook slightly. “Be thankful it’s not your lips, it would’ve been far worse.” She concluded. 

Goosebumps overtook your body. Jumping down from your spot, cautious as to not step on Wednesday. You hugged her closely. “What are we now?” 

Wednesday raised a brow, you were sure a tender smile attended her features. “Pragma and Philia, as you said.” 

♡ PLEASE LIKE AND REBLOG TO SUPPORT ME.

I think it applies to mostly East Asians, though, I could be wrong.

In the Philippines, the wife takes the husband's surname, as well as her children. In India, in 'patriarchal tradition' the woman is supposed to take the husband's surname in order to be apart of his family. In (South) Korea, the women does not take their husband's surname, although their children will have it at birth (this may also involve the country Malaysia).

If you're a writer, your own research would be appreciated if you strive for realism and accuracy. :)

Hey, I read somewhere that Asian/ some Asian wives don’t take their husbands name, does anyone know if this is true and can anyone point me in an appropriate naming character resource?

my man, my man, my man

For old times sake is actually such a heartbreaking and beautiful sentiment. Like, let’s do it for the love that used to be here. It is reason enough.

𝐂𝐎𝐆𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐃 ;; wednesday addams

Pairing ;; Wednesday Addams x fem!Reader

Summary: Wednesday is the most affectionate when it's time to sleep, much to your dismay.

Warnings: one of Wednesday's death threats.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Maybe a bit OOC but I love that headcannon that Wednesday shows a bit of her soft side whenever she's sleepy, though to very certain people. Enjoy :)

You’ve been pestering Wednesday a healthy amount. Even avoiding your own friends to spend time with her, though, you seemed to have regretted that decision, just a little bit. 

In the bed of your girlfriend’s, you laid on your wing to the side, listening to the loud tune of Pathetique outside, as Enid chats with Ajax through the phone. The wing in which you laid on stayed motionless, asleep, that when you reached your hand to feel it, it didn’t feel like your own body, but instead someone else's'. 

Wednesday is doing her nightly cello playing, as she did when she first got here. You admired her passion, consistency, and dedication to her schedule. You admired her writing. You admired her creativity. You admired everything about her, flaws and all. You admired her. 

“You just don’t know how to show it,” Enid says loudly, probably referring to you more than she refers to Ajax. It made you grimace, seeing as your friend looked out for your emotions that weren’t shown much on display. “But, you know, I’ll notice anyway.” She continued. The feathers on top of your head, that certainly will get you a scolding from Mrs. Davidson, the second normie teacher to teach in Nevermore after the accident with Lauren Gates, felt as if they had melted and left two side-eyeing holes. 

“He doesn’t even know you notice.” You looked up, adjusting your position on Wednesday’s bed. It had been a couple of months ever since you were back in Nevermore. Ophelia Hall’s stayed the same, the sense of nostalgia hit your vision, making your wings flutter in response. 

Enid stood up from her bed, grabbing her pink snood from the end of her bed. Her hair, unlike before, was much longer now, reaching past her shoulders. Blue and pink are still evident at the ends of it. Her face is more developed yet keeping the innocent Enid Sinclair charm (as Eugene would call it). 

“I’m going to Ajax’s dorm,” She secured her phone in her pocket, rummaging through her closet as she pulled out a blue snood. You couldn’t protest with what she said, since the werewolf always deserts you every time, she pries you about something. She left a bunch of clothes on her bed, making it look like gnomes vomited rainbows. “Talk to her,” Enid motioned her head to the window, referring to Wednesday. “And call me when you both are done making out.” 

You stood up from your position swiftly, almost making you black out. “You mean making up!” You half-yelled, vision still blurred though enough to see that Enid has gone with the door closed. 

As if on cue, Wednesday walked through the spider-like glass, a squeak of noise echoing in the dorms. Her hair still tightly kept in her signature braids, one on each side, both equally parted. Her small, scattered, and cute freckles were much, much visible – probably due to the lack of makeup she wore today. 

Speaking of wearing, the clothes she wore are always black. This time she wore a comfortable black tee shirt (she learned her lesson to never wear white shirts over black bras years ago, not that she was going to wear the color white again) and parachute-like pajama, black pants. “Stare at me like that again and I’ll poke your eyes out.” She threatened, papers held in her hand, though from your perspective, they were weapons. 

“Sorry… you’re just-” You stopped mid-sentence, a grimace forming in your lips, a small one so as to not drift the conversation apart quickly. “I haven’t been this near you in a while.” 

Wednesday’s eyes bore into yours. “I’m 2 meters apart from you.” She didn’t waste any time walking closer, not to you though. She placed her musical sheets in a category of folders, each one of them either being black or transparent. 

“Wednesday,” You called, not to test her emotions or lack of eye contact, to simply call your girlfriend. “You say you’re allergic to colors… how does that work?” You asked cautiously, as she dipped down the bed next to you. Your wings fluttered, wrapping around her side subconsciously. She didn’t pull back, leaning in against the soft feathers. 

Wednesday began undoing her braid. “I’m not allergic to it.” She answered in a soft tone, yawning under her hands right after. “Just have a different reaction to it than everybody else.” She explained, she stood up to place the hair tie on her desk. She dipped back down her bed, pushing your wing aside carefully as you stood up. She laid on her side, not staring at you. 

You didn’t want to pester her any further, although you remembered Enid’s words; talk to her.

In response to her answer, you questioned. The thick air was choking back your questions. At the simplest and shortest eye contact from Wednesday, you wanted to continue. “Why?” was all you could ask, short and curios were your tone. Interested filled your smile.

“Don’t,” She started, gazing down her lap. “Smile like that.” Wednesday stood up from her lying position, crossing her legs. Her eyes locked down her pants, minding their own business. 

Wednesday Addams, nothing like her sweet mother from what you’ve witnessed during vacation, she wasn’t exactly like her father too. She is Wednesday. She did not inherit after her parents’, but, as her own personality. The girl who was prophesied to kill an entire school, the girl who changed that said prophecy. 

She is brilliant. And you remembered yourself, following after Lauren Gates through the cave. You remember yourself freezing when she was stabbed, not knowing exactly what to do. And a ghost, much like Wednesday herself, healed her every wound. Seeping in through her. 

You could still feel Goody Addams in Wednesday Addams. You felt the stronger push and pull through her heart. And it felt even more promising as you are talking to her right now. Wednesday’s energy is strong and complex. Right now, it’s at ease. And it was evident in her body language, shoulders relaxed, legs crossed with one another. 

If it didn’t seem like she’s relaxed. Her heavy eyelids were about to shut though she kept it awake, certainly spoke for themselves. “You should sleep,” You whispered, pulling yourself up from the bed, sighing. You could talk to her tomorrow. And you could call Enid tomorrow, as well. If she isn’t in the detention office already. 

“Must you go?” Wednesday pulled you lightly from the wrist, showing the frailty in her tone. Sleep caught on with her looks now. 

You shook your head, sitting down on the bed, facing her this time. “I can stay…” Your voice trailed, then, you remembered you were talking to an Addams. “If you want me to.” 

Wednesday looked conflicted but gave a sharp nod. Her eyes drifted to your wings, leaning in before giving them a light touch. “It’s so soft.” She whispered; voice sleepy. Her body weight leaned in against you. “Why is it so soft?” 

You laid down to your side, tapping on your wings for room. Wednesday stared down at you, before she laid down. “They’re called down feathers, y’know like the clouds.” You answered, softly kissing her hair, the bridge your nose tickled. 

Your hands were wrapped around her. She kissed your palms lightly. “Sleep.” She commanded and you could not help but oblige. Your wings wrapped around your body and Wednesday's, like a blanket. 

The personal warmth cuddled around the room. Before closing off into your dreams, Thing sat on the table. “G’night, bud.” You say, smiling as he formed a small heart with his fingers.

The next day, Enid was in the detention office, smiling as you passed by.