#“You best sleep with a blanket and a shovel 'cause life's to short to be dancing with the devil.”

[lemonadegirl4344]

You're either Dancing With The Devil by Demi Lovato or Dancing With The Devil by Set It Off and there is NO in between in my opinion.

[freyfall]

you best sleep with a blanket and a shovel, 'cause life's too short to be dancing with the devil.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Bad Dreams - Bucky Barnes x Avenger (f)reader

Summary: You and Bucky are adjusting to civilian life after the Blip, some nights he needs you more then he realizes.

Warning: bit o angst, soft Bucky, fluff

Masterlist

It had been a long fucking five years alone, sure you had Nat and Steve around at the Avengers Facility. But no matter how much time you spent with them doing whatever to keep your mind busy, at the end of the day, you were undoubtedly alone. You liked it that way at one point in your complicated life as an Avenger, but after the blip, you absolutely despised it. 

No one had expected what would have happened to be so terrible and tragic, or it to even go the way that it did. You had never even heard of Thanos or what the fuck kind of weirdass monsters could exist from other parts of the galaxy until they showed up knocking. How rude huh.

Life was peaceful before hand, well for the most part; you were an Avenger, someone who was part of the team. A conjurer of flame and ash, a Phoenix held within that was not afraid to use your power, and you used it well.

Then as per usual, shit went down and low and behold you met the one and only James Buchanan Barnes, Steve’s old friend with the metal arm and troubling history. Not to mention a face to die for, or at least one that would cause a bit of a chaotic scuffle between your two friends. They clearly had other priorities apart from yours at the time which was keep Steve out of jail, don’t burn anyone, and refrain from flirting with his 90 something year old friend. You tried your best in most of those areas. Most of them. 

Nonetheless, you fell hard and fast for the blue eyed man, and him the same for you, his feisty little firecracker with a heart as big and bright as a dragons. So when he went to Wakanda to lie low and get some much needed help. You followed.

With a heartfelt goodbye and a lasting kiss, he went under for a couple long weeks until Shuri and her expert team of scientists were able to fix what those bastards at Hydra had done to him.

For a short yet blessedly peaceful amount of time did you and your dark haired lover live safely within the Wakandan borders. In a small and beautiful little village by a lake, a hut all your own to shelter you from the heat and rain that poured hard onto the earth, and most wonderfully of all you had Bucky.

Life was simple for the first time in a long time, you spent the days helping out the locals and teaching the children how to properly swing a stick in defense, you know completely normal leisure activities. Spending the evenings making a big fire to tell stories under and cook the best food in Wakanda.

And the nights? You spent those wrapped up in Bucky’s arm, although most times you would be the big spoon which he loved more then anything in the whole world. Telling you it’s not just because you’re naturally warm, but that he’s been admittedly a bit touch starved from the years alone and lost. And for that you would always hold him closer.

Then that fateful day came crashing into your lives like a waterfall against rock, your friends had shown up claiming some being called Thanos was coming to take a stone out of Vision’s head. Yeah that was a new one.

The battle wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great either, you were able to save many lives by scorching the beasts that pursed onward. Letting whips of flame slash hard against the enemy with great skill and force from your bending. Then the world seemed to still, and the wind swayed the trees oddly.

Then HE came, the Titan from another world, he threw down all in his path without an ounce of mercy or remorse. You and Wanda were so close, so damn close to stopping him, but then he threw you back with the whole force of the gauntlet and a moment later Vision was dead.

Your head was bleeding and a fresh scar had marked your jaw in a bloody red slash from the impact. Though your mind didn’t have time to register nor care as Thanos abruptly disappeared into oblivion, leaving a confused Thor in his wake. Much like the rest of the Avengers.

Then to your horror, one by one, your friends began to turn to ash and dust. Gone. You raced for Bucky nearby, praying to who’d ever listen to spare him or you for that matter. You just needed ten more seconds and then you could have held him one last time, touched his precious skin, ran your fingers through his long dark locks.

Looked into his ocean blue eyes, but no, the universe laughed as you gasped in panic, then it snickered as you screamed. Cheering you on as you sobbed in a cyclone of your own fire until the ground was scorched to shriveled dry earth. And no more tears could fall, your throat raw and heart broken in two.

Your world was gone, a memory forever kept locked inside your heart and soul. He was gone, he was your world, Bucky made your life better and you his.

For the coming months you were a mess, an angry and frustrated wreck of a person. Functioning by sheer will power and Natasha to keep you afloat in your new dreary little world of nothingness. You envied Steve for his ability to keep most of his shit together, and where almost enraged by Tony who had everything still intact. Pepper and a child on the way, how cruel the universe appeared.

You would wake up in the middle of the night sweating, your heart racing a mile a minute and usually part of the wall behind you would be burnt and blackened. You never set fire to anything thank god, but fuck, your heart hurt so much.

You wanted to scream most days, but as one year rolled into two and then three, the dull dreary ache in your body subdued to a tiny flicker of sadness. It became almost nonexistent during the day as you went about Avenger business, only to burn hot and angry at night.

You wanted to move on and forget, but you couldn’t, he was too important. They all didn’t deserve to go like that, none of them. And so another year passed, then it was year five since the blip, more months passed on. Until out of nowhere something or perhaps someone miraculous lit the way into a new sense of hope.

Resulting in the return of everyone who had been lost before, including your Bucky. And from that moment after the battle, when at long last you had finally found him, you knew life would never be the same.

——

Rain pours relentlessly from outside your apartment window, a rhythmic pitter patter near your bedside that aids in keeping you asleep and unbothered for the time being. No sooner do you reach the climax of your dream that consists of you being chased by a giant monarch butterfly with no weapon but a sandbox plastic shovel, do you wake. Strange dream.

All your senses flooding back into you as you feel for your lover in the darkness, your eyes still closed as you do so. Your hand slides across the crinkled bedsheets to no avail, the spot next to you is undeniably empty and rather cold.

oh, Bucky.

Cracking one eye open you glance at the alarm clock where it reads 1:10am in big red letters, illuminating the nightstand that it sits on. You take in a deep breath and roll onto your back to stare up at the ceiling, this has become a reoccurring event with Bucky in the following months since his return.

In Wakanda things were different, it was like a nice prolonged vacation away from all your problems and responsibilities of the world. Now, you two have an apartment somewhere in New York City all your own. Bucky goes to therapy and does his best to integrate back into his new role as a civilian while you work as an Avenger part time. The other half used for being a supporting loving girlfriend to Bucky and a hacker on the side for extra cash in the bank.

You get it though, he’s adjusting the best he’s able to manage right now, and even when he swears the nightmares are gone for good. You know him too well to believe that shit, you can see it in his eyes, he may have been a master assassin at one point. Now he’s with a skilled and almost equally as weathered Avenger who’s seen her share of people really going through it.

It’s not like you were doing any better, you’d wake up screaming in the dead of night from another nightmare involving losing Bucky again. That only lasted for a month or so, but still, it sucked and hurt every damn time. So you get it, nightmares can be a bitch.

Blinking the bleariness out of your eyes, you yawn into the darkness and take a moment to listen to the sound of the rain. It’s peaceful and calm, and though you’d like nothing more then to roll over and fall back into the dark comfortable void of sleep. You long to see Bucky again, even if you saw him not even two hours ago.

Pulling the blanket off of your body, you slowly sit up and face the blurry window that overlooks the glowing city, well more so the park close by. Pushing some hair out of your face, you stand and take a brief moment to stretch before letting your right hand emit a beautiful blue flame.

It proptly lights up the dark room into a shadowed yet still visible one, with a lazy proud smile, you move for the opened bedroom door. Your flame lights the way down the hall until you wander past the tiny kitchen and stop in your living room to the sound of heavy breathing coming from the far end.

You give a lopsided smirk to no one in particular as you pad over to the man who’s sweaty and shirtless on the wooden apartment floor in nothing but his boxers and a single blanket that’s not covering much. Well he sure looks like a hot mess, your hot mess that is.

He gives you an apologetic glance before staring tiredly back at the nearby wall. You extinguish your flame and gently nudge his leg with your sock, “How’s the floor?” You ask with a tinge of humor to lighten the mood.

He lets out a breathy laugh before looking back up at you, “Solid.” Quips Bucky in reference to the hard floor and perhaps his take on the makeshift bed, always one for a bit of humor huh.

Chuckling you crouch down to better meet his shadowed gaze, “I guess so,” You mutter with a shrug, “....afraid I might burn you in my sleep?”

Shaking his head, he gifts you the flash of a smile, “No. Not this time Y/N.”

You smile back before sitting down next to him, you look down at his hand before reaching out to take it without any resistance, “I know it’s the nightmares Bucky.” You whisper softly, your eyes sincere and true, “You don’t have to hold it all in okay, I don’t.....I don’t want you to do that.”

Letting out a reluctant sigh, Bucky frowns, “I know Y/N....I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, I just love you too much to see you hurting. I’ve missed you for what feels like a hundred goddamn years and I don’t want you to slip away from me..” You add with a sad smile, “Never again.”

Squeezing your hand gently, Bucky nods, “You’re not going to lose me okay. I promise you that much alright. I love you Y/N.” And he means every word.

“That’s good then. Can you at least tell me something to ease your mind from what’s bothering you?” You ask with a hopeful smile, “Please. Remember what the therapist talked about with speaking your thoughts and feelings....it’s like emptying a treasure chest or some shit.”

“Right.” Laughs Bucky, “Can’t say you’re going to find any gold in here.”

“Shut up I don’t care.” You muse with a shrug, “I’m here to listen.”

“As the lady wishes.” Retorts Bucky with a half-assed bow that caused you to break out into a small smile at his cheekiness.

“Wait.” You pause.

“What?”

“Can we sit on the couch for this I wanna lay next to you.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky fakes his annoyance as you patiently await his answer, “Fine.” He confirms, quickly standing up and taking you with him, “But you gotta lay on me I’m kinda cold now.”

Bucky falls onto the large comfortable couch with a dramatic huff as he pulls you onto his shirtless body, “Weren’t you just all sweaty?” You wonder with a raised brow as he quickly wraps his arms around your waist.

“Yep.”

“Gross.”

Bucky chuckles, “Well you’re making me talk about my feelings.”

“That’s because you won’t talk about them with your actual therapist.” You sass back.

“I hate it when you’re right.” Mutters Bucky into your cheek as you snicker at his adorably dramatic self.

“I think your brain short circuited and misplaced the word hate for absolutely love and adore.”

“Maybe.” Adds Bucky as he steals a sweet kiss, “I’m still working through things you know.”

“Okay smartass. Now tell me what’s on your mind.”

His chest rises as he takes a deep heavy sigh, he stares out the nearby window that keeps the rainy city from being bothersome. You can’t completely see his face due to the darkened room, but you’re close enough to see the way his face turns into a frown.

Suddenly you think maybe you shouldn’t have bugged him to speak about his nightmares. Until he purses his lips together and glances those big beautiful blue eyes down at you, the flash of a smile revealing itself in a split second.

To give him a bit more confidence and perhaps to calm his nerves, do you reach a hand up to gently caress his stubbled cheek, “Was it the Starks again?” You whisper softly in question, knowing how much it still haunts him. Among all the others.

Closing his eyes, he leans into your touch, “Not this time.” Mutters Bucky before taking that hand in his as he rests his head against the couches puffy arm. “Someone else.....Someone who got in the way. Wrong place wrong time.”

“oh.” Slips from your mouth quietly, you’re not sure what else to say, but you’re still hoping he’ll speak a little more about it. “Do they have anything to do with your list?”

It’s a shot in the dark, but you’re well aware of Bucky’s goal to make amends with his past and the people tied with it, maybe someone might be linked to it by chance.

Bucky takes another weighted breath, you can just sense how terrible he feels about this person. “Bucky take your time, it’s okay I’m right here.”

Looking for a positive sign you watch as he closes his eyes once again before moving his head a little bit so that it rests against yours, “I know....it’s just, difficult.”

“Always is.”

“Yeah.”

Kissing your forehead, his flesh arm wraps around your waist as he makes himself more comfortable before continuing, “I was in some government building at night.....tasked with eliminating some special high end target. I finished the mission in under a minute, but uh....there was a civilian who saw everything.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah.” Mumbles Bucky against your skin as he takes a moment to gather himself, soon he shifts underneath you once more before letting out a soft breath, “I shot him.”

A bang of sadness washes over you in that brief second and then a sparking anger for what Hydra had forced him to do. You keep silent and wait for Bucky to continue on with his story.

“That guy I killed. He um....he uh, he didn’t deserve that....but I had to.” Bucky’s voice is shaky as he puts his words together, “And you know what’s the worst about this?”

“I’d like not to imagine it but I know you should tell me.”

“You remember Yori?”

“Of course, he takes us to that great sushi place sometimes.”

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut as he hugs you tighter against his bare chest for some kind of comfort, his voice nothing but a regretful whisper, “I killed his son.”

Your eyes soften as he reveals who this mystery civilian was, “Damn.”

“Out of all the people in this world and I meet the man who’s son I murdered for Hydra.”

“That’s almost a sick joke.”

“I know. God I’m so fucked up.”

“No.” You protest softly while he hides his face in your neck, “I know you’ve heard this a thousand times but that wasn’t you. It wasn’t the real James Buchanan Barnes alright, you didn’t have a choice. Those fuckers took that away from you.”

“I know Y/N, but I still did it.”

“Bucky look at me.” You ask kindly, to your genuine surprise he lifts his head from your neck to look into your determined gaze, “You’re not the only one here who was manipulated and had their freedom taken from them by Hydra. I’ve done terrible things too, but you know what? We were never truly ourselves then, they molded us into their weapons and now.....they can never touch us again. You understand me?”

Tears whell up in Bucky’s shimmering eyes at your truthfully honest words, he had temporarily forgotten that you were once an unwilling participant in Hydra’s mind stone experimentations many years ago.

“I understand....” Mutters Bucky as he swallows hard, “what would I be without you?”

Giving him a small tearful smile, you gently wipe away a stray tear from his cheek, “A little bit more alone I’d say.”

“You’re a hundred times braver then me you know that? I couldn’t image five years without you and these fucking nightmares.” Admits Bucky as he moves to rest his head in the crook of your neck, “I’d go insane.”

Appreciating this close proximity and his heartfelt confession, you smile into the darkness, “I think I did. Thing is about shitty situations like that....life moves on and finds a way. I have you now, I thought I would lose you forever.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me too.”

[ragingbookdragon]

Bring On The Wonder, We Got It All Wrong, We Pushed Us Down Deep In Our Souls, So Hang On

Batsis x Ghost-Maker One-Shot

Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: This is a direct continuation of this piece right here that everyone got mad at me for because I made it angsty :) Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

“Will you slow down?” Bruce complained, reaching her in a few steps. “Your ankle is sprained and you’re going to—”

She turned on him, slapping his hand away from where it was reaching for her. “I don’t wanna look or talk to you or anybody else right now.” She spat. “Take the hostages to GCPD and leave me the fuck alone.”

“He wasn’t going to kill you.” Bruce said and she scowled.

“It doesn’t matter what he was or wasn’t going to do.” She pointed to herself. “I thought he was going to. That’s what matters to me.” She turned and took a step, though her leg faltered, and she went to her knees, reaching to hold her ankle. “Fuck,” she hissed. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“(Y/N),” he murmured, bending down beside her and she reached up, yanking the cowl off.

“Everything hurts,” she cried, anger and pain lacing her voice. “My back hurts. My chest hurts. Everything fucking hurts.” She reached up to wipe the blood still leaking from her busted nose and split eyebrow. “And I’m bleeding.” (Y/N) licked her lips, feeling the sting from the broken skin of her bottom one.

Bruce’s hand went to his utility belt, unclipping one of the pockets, and he pulled out a rag; he gently raised it to her eyebrow, dabbing at the blood as he quietly stated, “Your eyebrow’s already in hemostasis. Though it’s going to need stitches.” His hand briefly stilled near her swollen eye, then he continued to her nose where he gently held it.

She whimpered, trying to recoil but he held on. “That hurts.”

“You need to stop the bleeding,” he advised, then grabbed her hand and placed it over his, forcing her to take it.

“What are you doing?”

Bruce didn’t answer her, one arm curling under her knees, the other her back and he hefted her up into his arms. “I’ll take you back to your penthouse.”

(Y/N) wanted to cry, and she was helpless to stop the tears that gathered in her eyes; she turned, burying her face in the plate of her brother’s shoulder pad, breathing deeply to keep her sobs at bay.

“I don’t know what’s going to come after this,” he explained softly, careful to take even steps to avoid jostling her. “But I know that you’re the only one who gets to choose what happens between you and him.” He rested his chin on her head. “And if you choose to take a leave for a while, then I’ll support that.”

She let out a shuddering breath. “I just want to crawl in a hole.”

“Want me to get my shovel and dig you one?”

A watery laugh passed her lips, though it dissolved into a sob and with her free hand, she reached over and grabbed Bruce’s opposite shoulder, squeezing tightly as she shook against him.

He inhaled deeply, catching Ghost-Maker from the corner of his eye leading the hostages out. “We’re going to be okay, (Y/N).”

***

Turns out that the leave of absence seemed like the best choice for her, and she’d hunkered down in a safe-house about three hundred miles outside of the state on the edges of the McIntyre Wild Area in Pennsylvania. Bruce and she had bought it years ago as a last-ditch effort if they needed to get out of Gotham and it’d taken the two of them, plus Clark to clear it out and build. Half of the time was having Clark laugh at the two siblings and call them “city-slickers trying to be country folk” as he watched them struggle to tame the land.

But in the end, it had been effective, and they’d built a rather cozy safe-house that looked inconspicuously like Ma and Pa Kent’s home in Smallville. It was stocked with everything they needed, a built-in basement for safe measures. She was alone and secure in the small cabin and that’s how she wanted to be. Since leaving some few days ago, she’d messaged each nephew and niece telling them that while she loved them dearly, she needed to be alone for some time and that she’d be back as soon as she could be.

They’d flooded her phone with messages and concerns, but she’d left the device in her penthouse before leaving, resting assured that Bruce would explain in her absence. She felt like a failure and more so, weak for leaving her brother with the job of explaining, but the last thing she wanted to do was explain the situation herself.

She sat on the couch in front of the fireplace, gazing absentmindedly as the flames cast light that flickered around the darkened room. The entire room was open, living room and fireplace in the center, bedroom in one corner, kitchen in the other, a closed bathroom in another. It all smelled like pine. Fresh air and the ingraining scent of pine. But it’s what she needed. Gotham City overwhelmed the olfactory senses with blood and smog and on especially bad days, the rotting scent of fish and death. Everyone needed a break from it at some point in their life; to remember how to breathe in air that wasn’t contaminated.

The only thing she didn’t like was how quiet it was. (Y/N) was used to the distant sounds of traffic, gunshots, and sirens. Here it was the sound of her breathing and the wind whistling through the trees, wildlife scratching and hunting away in the underbrush. She swore she could hear her blood flowing through her brain. If there was any consolation, it did help to hone the senses on what she wanted to hear. And what she didn’t want to hear was knocking at the front door.

Quietly she rose from the couch and walked to the side of her bed, grabbing the loaded twelve gauge; she cocked it and stepped up to the door, warning, “If you’re not park rangers, I suggest you leave now. I’m armed and I will shoot you.”

A muffled chuckle sounded from the other side. “Well, that’s not the way I figured you’d greet me.”

“Oh, so you were expecting the shotgun blast then?” she answered aiming at the door and she pulled the trigger, blasting a large hole in the center of the wooden door. (Y/N) waited until the smoke cleared before she walked up and bent down, peeking through to see him flat on the ground, unharmed, reflexive as ever.

“Damn,” she griped. “I really thought I was going to beat you that time, K.”

Ghost-Maker cocked his head up and she was sure he was glaring at her from beneath the mask. “You crazy—”

“Bitch?” (Y/N) finished. “Tell me about it.” She set the gun next to the door and stood up, flipping the lock before pulling it open. “What do you want.”

“Well, I was coming to see you,” he said, picking himself off the ground; dusting himself off, he added, “You wouldn’t answer me.”

“Huh, I wonder why?” (Y/N) questioned, pressing her finger to her chin in mock thought, then her face lit up and she exclaimed, “Maybe it was because you tried to kill me a week ago!”

“I wasn’t going to kill you.” He griped. “You know I wasn’t going to.”

“Noted. What do you want?”

“To talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you and if you’re smart, you’ll leave before I decide to reload the gun.”

Ghost-Maker sighed, gazing at her. “I was using Kyusho Jitsu to slow you down until Bruce arrived.”

(Y/N) wanted to scream, but she kept her voice level. “And that somehow justifies splitting both lips, one eyebrow, busting my nose, and throwing me into an electric fence?”

“…No,” he murmured. “No, it doesn’t.” He looked at her. “But I was concerned that if I didn’t make it look like we were really trying to kill one another, Riddler was going to kill the hostages.”

She merely stared at him for a long moment. “You know, I used to think I knew when you were telling the truth, but now that I really think about it, I don’t know when you’re lying to me either.”

He stood to his full height, jaw tightening as he said, “I’m many things, but I’m not a liar, (Y/N). And I’d never lie to you.”

“I don’t believe you,” she shot back, face pinching as she finished with, “And you can sleep outside.”

She shut the door and turned around, walking to the bed in the corner and he looked through the hole in the middle. “You know I can just come inside if I want?”

(Y/N) laughed, stripping the shorts and long shirt she had on before climbing into the bed. “You take one step in here and I’ll cut your penis off and nail it to your forehead.”

“Hmm…have it your way,” he decided, turning around and she had as she tried, she couldn’t block out the sound of him setting up his blanket and bedding on the porch.

Hopefully, he’d be gone in the morning.

***

A crack of thunder startled her awake and she sat up in the bed, looking out the window to see the rain beating down. Her eyes drifted to the hole in the door and for a moment, she wanted to get up and see if he was okay, but she felt a bolt of irritation flash through her and she huffed, flopping back down into the bed, yanking the covers over her head.

She laid there for a few minutes, listening to the thunder clap above her, the lightning illuminating the room ever other moment, then she groaned, cursing herself for being a good person deep, deep down. (Y/N) threw the covers off her and rolled out of the bed, hurrying to the door. Pulling it open, she couldn’t help but smile at the man curled up in his thoroughly soaked blanket.

“Come inside.” He said nothing in return, and she sighed, kicking him in the stomach. “I know you’re awake, K. Get in here.”

“I thought you didn’t want me inside,” he retorted, yet to pull the blanket off his head.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “I don’t. But I’d be a terrible person if I let you get pneumonia.”

“You know you can’t catch that from rain, right? It’s caused by—”

“Fine. Stay out here for all I care,” she interrupted, starting to close the door and he sat up, scrambling for the inside.

“Wait!” She smirked and he craned his neck up at her to scowl. “You did that on purpose.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” (Y/N) retorted, cracking the door open more so he could get inside. He sat against the door when she closed it and she leaned against the door frame, watching the water drip down his soaked body.

“Want a change of clothes?” she asked. “Bruce left some behind the last time he was here.”

“Thank you,” he said, and she walked over to the dresser, pulling out a pair of boxers and an undershirt.

She turned, seeing him yanking off his shirt and pants, then tossed the clothes to him. “Here.”

He caught them. “I’m not wearing his boxers.”

“They’re new, jack-ass.” (Y/N) snorted, looking away so he could dress himself, then she glanced back. “Feel better?”

“I feel less cold,” he retorted, walking around the fireplace to toss another couple logs inside. “You’re letting the fire die out.”

She rolled her eyes and wandered into the kitchen, returning with a clean rag. “You’d be less cold if you took the mask off and toweled your hair.”

He looked up at her, watching, waiting, and since he didn’t stop her from reaching behind him, she untied the knot at the base of his skull, pulling the damp fabric away.

(Y/N) wiped the water from his face, softly brushing over his cheeks, then to his eyebrows, and when she was satisfied, she placed the towel on his head, and gently massaged his scalp, letting the towel soak up all the rainwater.

When she was done, she tossed it aside and sank onto the brick wraparound with a heavy sigh, eyes drifting to the wall. Ghost-Maker collapsed against her legs, resting his head back on her thighs; unconsciously, (Y/N)’s hands went to his hair, stroking the brown tresses.

After a few minutes, he murmured, “I apologize for not telling you the plan.”

Her hands stilled for a moment before continuing their ministrations. “I accept your apology.” She scratched his scalp. “Sorry for what I said.”

“It didn’t hurt my feelings,” he shrugged, and she tugged his hair.

“Yes, it did.” He tipped his head back, gazing at her. “Parade it around all you want but we both know you’re not immune to having your feelings hurt.”

Ghost-Maker searched her eyes. “You truly thought I was going to kill you?”

“Yes,” (Y/N) answered. “Everything was happening so quickly. I didn’t have time to think about what fighting style you were using on me. All I knew was that you weren’t pulling punches and it didn’t feel like a plan to me.”

She stared at him. “And I was scared of you.”

“Are you scared of me now?” he questioned, and she inhaled then exhaled.

“No.” He seemed relieved, but it was short lived as she added, “But I don’t trust you anymore. And I don’t know how long it’s going to be before I do again.”

He looked away. “I see.” Nothing was said for a moment, and he pulled from her, standing to his feet. “It’s late. We should rest.”

(Y/N) stood and started making her way to the bed when she realized he was going too. “Uh, what are you doing?”

“Going to bed?” Ghost-Maker offered, and she cocked a brow.

“Try again, K.” She pointed to the couch. “Go.”

His face pinched and he turned, but she caught his hand and he stopped, glancing back at her. (Y/N), against the better judgement in her head and the obvious discomfort between the two of them, stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her forehead to the middle of his chest.

He seemed to freeze at the sudden action, even if it’d been one, they’d done many times, but he recovered, one arm wrapping around her waist, the other around the back of her neck. His cheek brushed her temple and her grip shifted, hands coming up to press flat against his shoulders; with the warmth stinging the corners of her eyes, she dug her nails into his back as if it were the one thing keeping her from breaking down.

She wanted to say it. Wanted to tell him how angry she was. How hurt. How much loathing was built up inside of her, but nothing would come out.

“I know,” Ghost-Maker murmured against her hair. “I know what you’re thinking, (Y/N), and I know.” He pulled back, hand slipping from her neck to cup her cheek; he pressed his forehead to hers and assured quietly, “I know.”

(Y/N)’s eyes slipped shut and she let out a shaky breath. “Tomorrow,” she whispered, and he nodded.

“Tomorrow.” He let her go and watched as she unsteadily headed for the bed, collapsing onto the mattress; she tugged the blankets over her head, and he frowned as he saw her frame start to shake beneath them. Pulling the blanket off the couch, he laid down and watched her for some time. Waiting until she stopped shaking and slipped off into sleep so he himself could sleep too.

[javier-pena]

alone

Chapter 1 of The Hunt

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Rating: Mature (for now but that will - spoilers! - change eventually)

Summary: When your best friend and companion is abducted by a group of outlaws, you hire a Mandalorian to help track down the men and get your revenge. What seems like a simple enough task stretches into a month-long trek through inhospitable terrain while both you and the Mandalorian are trying to come to terms with events in your past you cannot change. Set after Season 2.

Warnings: mentions (and short descriptions) of death, murder, and torture | a lot of hurt and no comfort | mentions of loss | mild to moderate language | a lot - and I mean A LOT - of talk about Din’s hands lmao

Notes: This is my first attempt at a Mandalorian fic and the first time in months I’ve written anything. It’s vaguely inspired by my favorite western movies, True Grit (1969/2010), The Quick and the Dead (1995), and The World to Come (2020). So yes, this is going to be very much like a western. I also want to - again - thank Dani @javierpcna​ who was like “are you writing Mandalorian stuff?” about a month ago and has, since then, read through this chapter more often than me and encouraged me to continue to write it and offered so much valuable insight whenever I came to her with an idea ... seriously, Dani, this fic wouldn’t exist without you and I hope I can find a way to repay you! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this first chapter (I’m already working on the second one) ...

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The day the Mandalorian arrives on Alvorine is the day you lose your best friend. You’re still busy putting out the fire, running your soot-blackened hand across your face, where the dirt mingles with the tears you’re too tired to stop from streaming down your face, when you hear the thrusters of a spacecraft roaring above you. You barely glance up; you can’t be bothered to. It could be the remnants of the Empire looking for recruits, it could be the New Republic looking for the remnants of the Empire, or it could be the bandits coming back for more. But what do you care? They already took away the one person you care most about in the galaxy. You just grip the shovel tighter and drive it into the soil so you can choke the fire underneath moist stones and dirt.

While you exhaust your body with physical labor, you occupy your mind with thoughts of revenge. Revenge as dark and quenching as the soil beneath you. With every load of dirt you heave onto the searing flames, your plan gains another sharp edge until all you can think of is driving the cutting edge down onto the throat of the man who gripped Brea’s arm and pulled her onto the speeder bike. Maybe his head would come off right away, maybe your tool would just obstruct his windpipe as you watch the life drain slowly out of his eyes. And even that would be too good an end for that monster.

It’s not just in your mind – those thoughts aren’t simply there to ground you while you continue your work in the ruins of what was once your home. It’s not pure fantasy, something to give you back a feeling of control. You are determined to follow through on it; you are going to hunt down these men who burned down your farm and stole Brea from you. You will not rest until they are all dead by your hand. And if you should die in the process … then you won’t go out without a fight, without taking as many of those bastards with you as you can. They have sealed their own fate by coming here today.

You know Brea isn’t dead; they won’t kill her unless she tries to kill one of them first. And she wouldn’t do that, she is too gentle for that, too docile. She would rather turn the other cheek. They should have taken you instead; she doesn’t deserve the fate that awaits her. You would’ve at least put up a fight, make them pay for what they did. And Brea? She would just die.

For now, she’s alive. But whatever you set out to do once you’re done here won’t be a rescue mission. You aren’t under the illusion you can save her. You know that even if you were to leave right now, even if you had your own speeder bike, you would never find her in time. No, this possibility hasn’t even crossed your mind. All you want to do is cause these men more pain than they caused you. You know it is impossible because you cannot imagine anything worse, but you sure as hell will do your best.

You straighten your back, drive the shovel into the ground, and use it as support while you try to catch your breath. The air burns in your lungs, and not just from the cold. There is also the steadily rising black smoke that makes breathing hard; your throat stings, so do your sides, and there is a bitter taste in your mouth. But you’re almost finished here, you’re almost done putting out the fire, so it won’t endanger the surrounding forest. And with every flame you bury, you also bury a piece of your soul until you feel like there is nothing left that makes you human, until all the pain and despair you’re feeling since listening to Brea’s screams grow quieter and quieter until they were swallowed up by silence has turned into a cold, brazen cry for revenge. But you’re glad this has made you less forgiving, less kind, less … human. Those things would only get in the way of the task ahead of you.

As the last flames go out with a wet hiss, one of Alvorine’s three blue white suns vanishes behind the treetops. You know the other two will be quick to follow. And you don’t have anywhere to spend the night. You wouldn’t mind sleeping with your back propped against a tree. You’ve done it often enough. But it’s winter, and the air is already cold and will be even colder once the other two suns set too. And you just lost every blanket, every single piece of fabric that could keep you warm in a small inferno. You know this is just an excuse, a comforting lie you tell yourself. The truth is you cannot spend a minute longer on this clearing, even if that means you have to walk the four miles to the next settlement. You’re so exhausted you cannot feel your legs, but you don’t care. Anything is better than spending the night here, even collapsing in the middle of the dark forest.

You leave the shovel where you stand and walk to the edge of the clearing, swallowing around the lump in your throat, trying to hold down more tears that are threatening to spill over and down your cheeks. Once you reach the edge of the forest, where the air is a bit clearer, you take a deep breath and turn around to look at the ruins of your home, now nothing more than a black pile of rubble. You have nothing, nothing but the clothes you’re wearing, not even a small trinket to remind you of Brea and the many happy hours you spent here tending to your fields, sweeping the front porch or sitting around the fireplace sharing supper. Even remembering how you worked on menial chores now feels like the most precious memory, one you will hold onto until your last breath. Because even though they have taken everything from you, they can’t take away the memory of Brea’s laugh.

***

They stare at you as you enter the inn. They stare and then look away. They can’t bear your presence because it reminds them of their own guilt. Not one of them came to your aid this morning, not one of them came afterwards to offer help. And you ignore them too because there is nothing left to say. All you want is some food and a dry place to sleep before you turn your back on them forever.

You sit down at a small table in a dark corner. The patrons around you either turn their backs to you or stand up to move their meals and conversations someplace else. It’s as if you’ve been marked. If you had any strength left in you, you would call them out on their behavior. Shit, you would wreak havoc, and only stop when the last one of them is on their knees begging for forgiveness. But you’re glad you’re too exhausted because your sudden hatred for everyone and everything scares you. The villagers don’t deserve to fall victim to your rage. There is nothing they could’ve done. They are just as defenseless and helpless as you. Would you have come to their aid if your positions were reversed? You would like to think so, but just because it gives you a false sense of moral superiority. Deep down you know the truth. Deep down you know you would hide too, praying that you would be spared.

As you dig into your bowl of soup, you realize how hungry you are. Even though everything tastes like ash in your mouth, your stomach is glad to have something to clench around when your thoughts stray to this morning’s events again. And you know there’s no need to punish yourself by refusing your body the nourishment it needs. The opposite, in fact – you know you’ll need all the strength you can get if you’re really going after them.

As you swallow one ashy bite after the other, you let your eyes wander around the room, looking for something that will distract you from your thoughts and your feelings of guilt. Everyone avoids your gaze; everyone acts as if your corner is empty. Everyone … except one stranger.

He sits in a booth close to the bar, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze on you. Or at least you think he’s looking at you – he’s wearing a helmet that covers his entire head, the kind you’ve seen twice before in this corner of the galaxy. He’s a Mandalorian, a bounty hunter, and his presence here doesn’t really surprise you. Even though actually seeing one is a rare occurrence, stories about them are countless.

Alvorine is a planet without laws, a planet that lives by its own rules, so many criminals decide to hide out here while they wait for their crimes to be forgotten. There is no military presence on the planet, no judicial system, no one to catch and punish the wrongdoers. The planet follows the rules of whoever is in charge, which changes frequently, but none of the powerful people have enough resources to enforce those rules anyway. Disputes are often just settled by the parties involved in whatever way they see fit. Only the Mandalorians, who are hired by people on other worlds, by people who have never experienced what it is like to live on Alovrine, are brave enough to get involved in those disputes. You have to admit you do feel a tiny bit curious as to why that particular Mandalorian is here ... who hired him? And who is he hunting?

You tentatively let your gaze wander over his stoic body, over the beskar covering his arms and chest, over the bandolier wrapped around his upper body, over the visor hiding his eyes. If you had one like him on your side, you wouldn’t need to worry about getting your revenge. He would catch those men in the blink of an eye. And if you paid him enough, he would do to them whatever you wanted.

He would cut off their limbs but keep them alive long enough to feel it.

He would make them run for it, give them the illusion of hope, only to crush it like their bones.

He would let you watch, let you choose whatever punishment you saw fit.

You shift in your seat because you can almost smell the blood, you can hear a faint echo of their screams, and it makes you feel light-headed and nauseous, but also elevates you, lifts a weight off your shoulders, even if just for a brief moment.

But he’s not here to do your bidding. And when you lift your head again, he’s gone.

You finish your bowl of soup and then decide to rent a room upstairs for the night. You don’t have a place to stay anymore and it’s too dangerous to start your pursuit while it’s dark. The forest belongs to dangerous creatures during the night, more dangerous than any man out there. And you’re planning on staying alive for just a little while longer.

You stretch and yawn and move to get up when your path is suddenly blocked. It happens so fast you don’t register anything at first apart from the cold, hard beskar chest plate that is level with your face. Its unexpected appearance makes you lose your balance and you fall back down onto the bench you’ve been sitting on. The Mandalorian extends his hand, his fingers closing around thin air. It’s a half-hearted attempt to stop your fall, and it comes too late – your backside has already painfully collided with the hard wood.

“May I join you?” His voice sounds distorted through the modulator in his helmet. He sounds like a machine, not like a being with a heartbeat.

You want to tell him no, want to tell him to fuck off, but for tonight you have no fight left in you. So you nod.

He sits down and you expect to hear the clink of his armor, expect to feel a tremor when his heavy body comes to rest on a stool opposite you. But there is no sound, no movement, and the lack makes you sit up straighter. This isn’t just another cowardly villager you can get rid of by glaring at him … this is an apex predator.

You swallow with some difficulty. “Can I help you?” you ask, your voice level, your eyes resting on his glove-clad hands lying on the table. You figure you’re safe as long as you can see them.

At first, he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you. Or at least you think he’s looking at you. You cannot see his eyes behind the tinted visor. No matter how uncomfortable the situation makes you feel, you try not to move … you try not to show any sign of weakness, to give him any excuse to lunge across the table and strangle you.

Finally, he answers. “I’m looking for work.”

Now you cannot help but move. You exhale sharply, and with that release of breath comes a release of tension as you slump backwards, your back hitting the wall behind you. You cross your arms over your chest. “I can’t help you,” you say. You don’t have any work to offer him, no work worthy of the skills of a Mandalorian who usually hunts down important people, kings, merchants, people who influence the course of the galaxy’s history. Following a few lowly bandits is not the work he’s used to. You don’t even want to tell him about it because you know he’d take it as an insult. And even if - by some miracle - your quest for revenge would be deemed a worthy cause in the eyes of the Mandalorian, you couldn’t afford his services.

The slightest movement of his helmet is the only reaction your answer gets out of him. Whether he shifts because he’s surprised or because he’s angry, or whether his scalp itches under the metal you cannot tell.

Still, you feel the need to explain yourself. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any money.”

Shit, that’s the wrong thing to say. It implies you have work for him, but that you’re too poor to pay him. For all you know, this could be a grave insult in Mandalorian society.

His fingers on the table clench around thin air again. “What can you offer?” he asks.

He doesn’t want to know about the job, the quarry as you know they call it. No, he just wants to know how much he can earn.

“240 credits,” you answer. It’s all you have. You won’t need it anymore.

He tilts his head and you expect him to refuse, but then he says, “That’s enough.”

You’re taken aback, surprised. He’s caught you off-guard. You were fully prepared to see him walk away at hearing the ridiculously low amount of money you just offered. “You don’t even know what the job is,” you protest. The last thing you need is a Mandalorian hunting you down because you’re not paying him enough.

“They told me,” he says with a nod behind him.

You follow the movement with your eyes and see heads whip to the side, gazes wandering downwards, you notice conversations being picked up again. White hot fury fills you, more powerful than the flames that destroyed your house.

“They had no right,” you press out through clenched teeth.

The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything. He sits still like a statue, unwavering, as you fight a small battle with yourself. You should leave without looking back. Messing with a Mandalorian is even more dangerous than the task ahead of you. But he’s offering you something invaluable, something no amount of credits can get you: a chance. If you go alone, you’ll be dead in about a week. There’s no use pretending you’ll get out of it alive. But if you accept the Mandalorian’s help – his services, you have to remind yourself – you might make it through two. You might get to see your dreams of revenge become reality.

You sigh deeply as a heavy weariness settles over you. You’re exhausted, and now that all the adrenaline has left your body, you can feel all the small cuts and bruises today’s labors have left behind. And you feel empty … cold and empty, and utterly alone.

The Mandalorian still doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t defend the villagers, he doesn’t tell you what he knows about you or the job, he doesn’t try to persuade you to take him up on his offer, nor does he walk away from it. He just sits there and waits for you to make up your mind, as if it’s all the same to him. And it probably is. Either he goes with you and earns some money, or he doesn’t and looks for work elsewhere. He is completely detached from the whole affair. There is no emotional investment, just a job that needs to be done.

He doesn’t care if you live or die, he just cares if you pay him or not.

This realization is what finally helps you make up your mind. “I want to hire you,” you say, your tongue heavy in your mouth. All you really want is to sleep.

There is no reaction for the longest time but then the Mandalorian nods. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something, give him details or explain the specifics of the job to him. But before you can decide what to say next, he stands abruptly.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” he says before turning around.

Your brain needs a moment to catch up but when it does, you’re already on your feet. “Wait,” you say, and to your surprise the broad, steel-clad man listens to you.

He doesn’t face you, but he stops.

You briefly consider asking him if you can accompany him, but you don’t. You don’t have to ask, you get to decide.

“I’m coming with you,” you tell him.

You tell a stranger, a dangerous one at that, one who makes his money by making other people’s lives a living hell, that you will travel with him through dark, deserted forests where no one will stop him from taking what he wants from you instead of earning it, where no one will come to your aid should he not honor the deal you apparently just made with him. And you don’t care. Because no matter what he will do to you, it can’t be worse than what has already been done.

But all your worries and fears focus in on just one tiny aspect of this whole, fucked-up situation when he says, “I work alone.”

You don’t want to negotiate. This shouldn’t even be up for debate. You’re his employer now, you get to decide how things are done. But if you insist on this, he could just walk away from you. And you cannot let that happen now that you’ve had an idea of what it would be like to have a Mandalorian on your side.

“We’re not a team,” you say. “Think of me as an interested party. As someone who is fascinated by your work.”

You’re not sure if that is the right thing to say. His shoulders move, but he still doesn’t turn around. When he speaks again, you know it was the wrong thing to say.

“I work alone or not at all.”

You don’t want to accept that. You want to be there when those men are punished for what they did. You don’t want to wait around for the Mandalorian to come back, not when you don’t have anywhere to wait around in. You’ve lost everything. Had he talked to the villagers as he claims, he would know this. Or maybe he does. Maybe he knows you lost your home today but doesn’t care. He doesn’t even know the definition of the word home. It means nothing to him.

You take a deep breath. “Then I won’t be needing your services.”

This finally makes him turn around. Everything in you screams for you to take a few steps back, to put yourself out of his reach. You can feel the atmosphere between you shift – he draws back his shoulders, makes himself even taller than he already is. And you know, you just know, that refusing his offer, that backtracking on your agreement is the worst mistake you made tonight.

You’re pretty sure that not honoring a deal is the worst insult to a Mandalorian.

“Going alone will be your death,” he says when you cannot bear the tension a second longer.

“What’s it to you?”

The words are out. They are a challenge, one you didn’t mean to make, one you shouldn’t have made, but it’s done now. Your hand begins to tremble, and your feet grow cold with fear as you prepare yourself for his reaction. You don’t know if he will hit you, tie you up, torture you, or just kill you on the spot. He could do all of these things without having to fear any repercussions. You curse yourself for not having been more careful, for making this fatal mistake, because now Brea will go unavenged. Just because you couldn’t keep your damn mouth shut, just because you’re stubborn and hot-headed and oh so stupid.

But to your surprise, the Mandalorian shrugs. He lifts his broad shoulders, then lowers them again as your eyes follow the movement. But he’s not giving you anything more: He doesn’t insist on going alone, he doesn’t turn around and leave, he just keeps standing opposite you, motionless, emotionless, until you’re convinced you imagined the shrug.

So you decide to make the next move by removing yourself from this situation before he changes his mind and drags you back to his ship to do whatever he wants to you. You take a deep breath and start to step around him, a movement that is almost impossible to complete in this small space you’re both in. But you attempt it, nevertheless. When you’re level with him, doing your best not to brush up against him so you won’t enrage him, you hear his voice. It’s just one sentence, four words, but for some reason it sounds so much more human than it did when he was opposite you. Maybe it has something to do with the distance between his helmet and your ear, maybe it’s the angle from which the sounds hit your eardrums or maybe it’s because you feel light-headed, dizzy with the realization he hasn’t killed you yet and probably won’t.

He says, “Have it your way.”

You stop right next to him, staring ahead at a group of three men who do their best not to look at you. But you don’t see them anyway. In fact, you don’t see anything at all because the rushing sound in your ears drowns out everything else, even other senses.

“You can come with me,” he says, and it’s the first time he has spoken two sentences in a row. “But you do as I say.” Three. “If I tell you to run, you run.” Four. “If I tell you to get out of the way, you do so.” Five. “And if I tell you to kill, you kill.” Six.

Then nothing, just the faint sound of his deep breaths through the modulator.

Your thoughts are racing, tripping over their own feet like children running down a hill, and they’re unbearably loud. Everything is loud suddenly, from the sound of the barkeep filling a glass to the way that woman over there is chewing her food. The only thing that’s quiet is the last one you would have suspected to be so: the Mandalorian. Now he is waiting for you to say something and as he does, he balls his hand into a fist and then releases the tension again, over and over like a nervous tic, like he needs an outlet for the tension in his body, the tension you have no idea he is feeling until you see his arm flex beneath the fabric covering it.

But, once more, you’re at war with yourself. You don’t know what to tell him. There is still that shimmer of hope on the horizon, the light that makes you believe you stand a chance if you bring him along. But his terms … you’re not sure if you can accept them. He doesn’t know Alvorine or the men you would be hunting half as well as you do. And you’ve never been one for following orders. So if you feel that his assessment of a situation is wrong, you’re not sure you’ll be able to run just because he tells you to.

You have a feeling that defying his orders would be the most dangerous thing you could ever do, even more dangerous than hunting down a group of ruthless bandits who like to torture and kill for fun.

“All right,” you say finally.

His fist unclenches one last time and he exhales slowly.

“But when we find them,” you swallow hard, once, but your mouth is completely dry, “I get to decide what happens to them.”

The Mandalorian turns toward you so abruptly that you almost lose your balance. You lean back and hit your elbow on the wall behind you. The pain makes you curse under your breath.

“Agreed,” he whispers. He sounds like a machine again, as if everything that makes him human is shut away beneath that cold, hard, invaluable beskar steel. You too feel cold suddenly, cold and afraid. “But until then you do as I say. Understood?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. He is too close to you, and drowns out everything else, even the sounds that you considered to be too loud mere seconds ago. If he wouldn’t be wearing a helmet, you would be able to feel his breath on your cheek. He takes up your field of vision almost entirely. You’ve never felt more on display, and yet more hidden. And you know that if you say the wrong thing now, it will have terrible consequences.

So you just nod again.

“We leave in the morning,” he tells you, then turns around suddenly and leaves, his cape trailing behind him.

All sounds come rushing back at once, as if you’ve just emerged out of a pool of water. You release your breath quickly, only now realizing you’ve been holding it. Then you slump back against the wall, a shaking, quivering mess.

***

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Summary: You were too busy kicking one of the drunk soldiers in the stomach to notice the way steel eyes flashed gratefully at you.

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Pairings: Levi/Reader

Genre: Romance, bad dream, death!, Soldier!Reader, Levi deserves happiness

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One second, you're pushing Levi out of the way of an incoming large hand and the other, everything goes black.

Only for you to wake up in your bed.

It was a nightmare, you were sure of that. It had taken you a little while to gather your bearings, but once you had, you hadn't been able to go back to sleep.

You laid back in bed, arms sprawled everywhere while being lost in thought.

Even if it had been real, it hardly mattered that you had died. You weren't some special soldier whose loss had had any impact, which is why you don't mind the idea of giving up your life for Humanity's Strongest Soldier. He's the one who will make a difference-you're a nobody. A poor orphan born in Wall Maria, who had been forced to enlist in her 20s to keep making a living.

You had considered joining the Garrison, but had decided that you had nothing to lose. No parents or friends to mourn you, no lover you would be leaving behind. There was nothing stopping you from at least doing what you could for humanity. As far as you're concerned, this way you die having given some meaning to your life.

And a part of you hopes that you die the way you had dreamed. If your death prevented Humanity from losing its most promising and powerful soldier, you would do it a thousand times over. You would save him in exchange for your own life and you feel sure that you wouldn't regret that decision one bit.

After all, could anyone ever regret saving the person they were hopelessly in love with?

____________________________________

You never told Levi how you felt, feeling too shy.

You first met him when you had enlisted, only a few mere months after he had. You hadn't known the story behind him much, although the gossip mill had been rife with talks about it. You had seen him and his friends, walking around, keeping away from everyone. Approaching them hadn't crossed your mind, for you were too busy preparing for the upcoming expedition and trying to calm your nerves. It had been your first expedition.

It was only after that terrifying expedition ended that you realized Levi had returned alone, his companions absent from his side. There hadn't been any need to ask him what had happened, his pained expression had been explaination enough.

Later that night, he had shut himself in his room in the barracks. His absence at dinner indicated that he hadn't eaten anything, and against your better judgement, you decided to bring him some.

The door hadn't been locked, and once you had cautiously peeked in, you noticed him lying in the bed. He was facing towards the wall, wrapped in a blanket, and hadn't so much as shifted at sound of the door opening. Maybe he was actually asleep, or he was pretending so he wouldn't have to deal with anyone. You couldn't blame him.

You set down the tray as silently as possible. It had a bowl of soup, two loafs of bread and some ration bars you had found. Just as you moved to turn, you paused, catching sight of him again.

It was an internal battle, that raged on for what felt like hours but was really only a minute. While you could chance trying to talk to him, you sincerely doubted it would go well. You were a stranger and in the past few months, the only people he had even held small conversations with had been his friends. His superiors often got rude, one worded responses from him and friendly comrades had been terrified into silence with glares. You were more likely to piss him off then actually help him.

Resolving to yourself that the food was enough on your part, you quietly crept out of the room, determined to not disturb him.

Once you had shut the door, you sighed, feeling the exhaustion of today's events creep up on you. This was the price of joining the Survey Corps and sating your morals, losing people every expedition. This feeling of loss and despair would be your new constant.

Rubbing a hand on your forehead, you tried to soothe the headache away as you walked back to your room. You stopped short of turning in the corridor as you heard a group of soldiers.

'H-Hey did you see that midget from the underground?'

Your eyes narrowed and you found yourself leaning against the wall as you listened intently.

'Yeah. You see the nerve he has, locking himself up in that room like he's actually mourning. That fucker didn't even join for the cause'

You frowned as another voice joined in. They were all clearly drunk.

'Let's.. Let's teach that midget a lesson. I bet he's putting it on. He's just scum from the underground, he doesn't even belong here.'

You felt horrified as two other soldiers agreed with him. They had all unanimously decided to go wake up Levi up and taunt him about the death of his friends.

While you could agree that Levi clearly hadn't joined willingly, you felt that it was too cruel to go after him like this. Especially when he was already so heart broken.

You weren't the best soldier, but you could kick ass when you needed to. It may be three on one, but if the way their voices were slurring as they talked were to be considered, you had the advantage of not being a dumbass drunk.

As the soldiers came into your view, you rolled your sleeves up.

You were too busy kicking one of the drunk soldiers in the stomach to notice the way steel eyes flashed gratefully at you.

____________________________________

You could never say you and Levi spent a lot of time together. The two of you had joined around the same time, but Levi had scaled the ranks much more quickly. He had, due to his outstanding skills, joined the most elite squad.

You had remained a mediocre soldier at best, and you were content with it. You didn't have an amazing titan kill count nor fists of steel like Levi, but you did whatever was assigned to you just fine. It was life you could even say you were proud of.

You had, much like the rest of your cormades, braced yourself for death. Any expedition could be your last. In fact, you often set out for expeditions expecting to never come back. Some sort of fate had been keeping you alive so far.

It was luck that kept you alive so far- and then it was Levi.

Levi had saved you from a titan during an expedition. You had been helpless, all out of blades. Your squad had been utterly annihilated and you had been in the midst of struggling as a large hand grabbed you and a titan opened its mouth to eat you.

It's why your dream is so hard to forget. It was earily similar to back when Levi had saved you. You would find yourself in that position again. A titan and it's hand tossing you in its mouth. And much like this time, Levi would be there too.

Except he wouldn't be the one doing the saving.

Back then, he had intervened at the speed of light and saved you. His expression had been as stoic as always, eyes scanning your form for injuries. Once he had found that you had no life threatening wounds, he had helped you up and back to HQ.

It had later made you blush, remembering how his strong arms had helped you settle on his horse with him.

That had been the start of your feelings for him. It hadn't just been the fact that he had saved you, it had been how gentle how he was with you. You had seen how he treated others, talking roughly, trying to be helpful in his own awkward way. He often physically kept away from others, but for some reason, he hadn't hesitated a second in touching you.

You knew better then to delude yourself that it was special treatment-but you couldn't stop your heart from fluttering anyways.

____________________________________

The two of you never grew beyond anything but casual friends. You're sure that the dream you hadn't regretted dying for him. You, however, know for a fact that you had regretted being a coward and not telling him how you felt.

Now, here you are, very much alive and kicking. It is possible this was just the wishful thinking of a soldier destined to die. Its possible your dream has shaken you to the point of making rash decisions. But you don't care.

All your mind knows is that you aren't chomped in half. That you are well enough to walk up to Levi and talk to him. Dream or not, you want to tell him. You want him to know how he makes your heart beat in a way that no one ever had. You want to tell him that you harbour feelings for him that go beyond comraderie.

And most importantly, you want him to know that you want him.

It was a painful itch- one you won't be able to get rid of. Not until you fess up.

It doesn't matter that you're signing up for an absolute guaranteed rejection. It doesn't matter that you know he won't be nice about it. As far as you're concerned, the end goal isn't getting into a relationship. This is your shot at confessing, at amkigm sure you that you die without regrets.

No matter what the outcome, you know your feelings won't change. And that is what makes it easier for you to confess.

____________________________________

You have been working with Levi for a solid five years now. You know him rather well, considering that he's one of the few comrades who, much like you, have miraculously lived through being in the survey corps for an unusual amount of time.

While others couldn't classify you as best buddies, you know plenty about each other.

You know that he made special graves for each comrade that lost their lives. He would take their insignia off their jacket as a symbol of their wills. You also know that he had started this tradition since Isabel and Farlan died. Every soldier, no matter how they behaved with him, had been included. You know this because you had caught sight of him in the middle of his task. And without a single word, you had picked up a shovel and joined him in his task.

Levi hadn't said a word to you, silently accepting your help. You had been too busy trying to even out the dirt with your foot to notice steel eyes flashing at you with fondness.

You know more about him then that too. And he knows about you as well. In particular, the two of you had picked up on how the other liked their tea. It was silent gesture, one where if either was nearby and making tea, there would be enough for two people. Hange had once tried to snag the extra cup of tea Levi had in his hand for you- only to find herself best friends with the floor.

You had learned how to live up to his cleaning standards-to the point you held the unprecedented position of being the one person he had never attacked for being a slob. It's wonderful feeling-being the special one he had never been harsh with.

You thought you knew him well. Enough to know his reactions to certain things and situations, enough to pin point how he was feeling at certain times.

So when you confess to being in love with him-you are forced to realize that you don't know this man as well as you thought you had.

The Levi you know was supposd to reject you brutally. He was supposed to harshly tell you to get your head out of the clouds and stop fantasising like a school girl. To get over your shitty feelings and leave him out of it.

But the Levi in front of you is different. He isn't pushing you away-no, his hands are grabbing your wrists and tugging you into an embrace. His forehead is resting against yours. Those steel eyes you had never quite caught expressing anything, are filled to the brim with affection.

You've been proven wrong and frankly, as his lip softly brush against yours, you're glad about it.

____________________________________

A/N: Heyooo. don't know where this came from. This feels like a 'felt cute might delete later fic'. I hope it was enjoyable at least? I can see a part 2 for this from Levi POV but don't know if anyone even liked this, let alone wants a part 2.

Also ruins part 2 is half way done :)

[13uswntimagines]

Fighting Fires - No Biggie (Lindsey x Reader)

Request: press or lindsey x reader where reader is a firefighter and she gets called to help with the fires in cali and press or lindsey is sad but they know it’s what she has to go do?

Special thanks to @literaryhedgehog​ for her amazing editing skills!!!

You loved moments like these. Moments where you were cuddled up close to the love of your life, buried under blankets. Moments where everything was still. Where everything just seemed to… pause. It was rare that You and Lindsey got moments like this, With her soccer career taking her all over the world and your insane schedule as a firefight. But moments like this always made it worth it. 

The comfortable silence was shattered by your phone, ringing. 

“Shit,” you sighed, taking an extra second to place a kiss on Lindsey’s neck before rolling over to reach for the offending device. 

“Who the fuck is calling you at 2am?” Lindsey groaned, throwing the arm that had been wrapped around you over her eyes. 

“The station,” you said, your voice rough with sleep. Lindsey hummed, her hand rubbing your back, as you placed the phone to your ear.“Hello?” you listened for a few seconds, your eyebrows furrowing in concentration, your lip caught between your teeth, the hand not holding the phone rubbing your eyes. 

“Yes chief, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” You said, already standing from the bed. Lindsey sat up, the covers pooling around her waist as you scurried about the room, pulling on clothes and grabbing your go bag designed specifically for occasions like this. 

You were a firefighter, and your ladder was one of the best in the country. Part of the job was always being available to help if you could. 

“What’s happening,” Lindsey asked, her voice shaky, you sighed, pulling on your work sweatshirt. You would have to change when you got to the station anyway. 

“I gotta go. There’s a massive fire and they need people to help,”

You made your way over to her side of the bed, cupping her cheek. She leaned into your hand, and you smiled sadly at her. It sucked when your time together got cut short. 

“Be safe,” She whispered. You ran your thumb over her cheek, as you leaned in to connect your lips. 

“Always my love. Play good,” You mumbled, your breath fanning against her lips as you pulled away. You sent her one last smile and wink before pulling your bag over your shoulder and heading towards the door. 

****

“More than 30 departments have been called to help with the escalating fires, which have already caused more than 10 billion dollars worth of damage…” 

“Would you turn that shit off please?” Lindsey groaned, glaring at the news man on the television. Knowing that you were out there, risking your life to save others, and seeing it on screen were two very different things. Christen smiled sadly at her, muting the television in the locker room. 

“Yeah, sorry Linds,”

“It’s alright, it’s just difficult, you know? She’s doing what she loves and she’s helping people, but like it’s super dangerous,” Lindsey said, sitting heavily on the bench, unable to tear her eyes away from the flames on screen. She didn’t even want to think of you facing that wall of fire in person. You loved helping people, and she understood, but it still made her sad when you had to leave. 

“We get it, trust me. Her mom had a heart attack when she found out that Y/N was actually going to go through with it,” Emily nodded, sitting beside the woman and running a comforting hand along her back. She had known you since the two of you were in diapers,/‘d she remembered the fight that had ensued after you told your parents of your career plans. Yes, it scared her too, but you had wanted to be a fireman for as long as she had known you. 

Lindsey nodded, sniffing lightly. “I’m happy she’s following her dreams, but it doesn’t make those like that,” she pointed to the screen, displaying firefighters spraying what looked to be a 40 foot wall of flames with water.“any less terrifying,”

Tobin followed her hand, her eyes landing on the truck proudly displaying the Portland logo along with the ladder neither. She felt her breath leave her. There was no way right? “Hey, isn’t Y/n part of ladder 13?”

“Yeah, why?” Lindsey asked, her attention shifting to her fellow midfielder. Tobin Pointed in the direction of the television, and Lindsey. Mad Emily’s eyes widened in horror. The truck was surrounded by flames, the caption stating that they were trapped and unable to communicate with the rest of the group. 

Lindsey’s heart stopped, it was as though all of her fears were being realized. She barely registered the breathless “Shit,” that sounded from beside her. You promised you would be safe, and now you were cut off from the rest of the group. 

She loved you and now you were probably…- she couldn’t even think the word. The two of you didn’t have enough time together for that to even be a possibility. No. You had to be ok. 

“Alright ladies, let’s hit the field,” Vlatko clapped entering the room, entirely oblivious to the crisis several of his star players were having. You might not be a national team member, but you were a large part of their family. Christen sent him a curt nod, turning to your girlfriend who looked like she was going to pass out if she didn’t breath. 

“I’m sure she’s fine, they’d call you if she wasn’t,” Christen said comfortingly, carding her fingers through Lindsey’s hair and shushing her softly. Lindsey nodded, straightening up. You had to be ok. She wouldn’t give up on you until they were absolutely sure. Until they told her she had to. No news was good news at this point. 

“Come on, let’s get your mind off this for a while and then we’ll figure out what’s going on,” Emily mumbled, hoisting your girl to her feet. Hopefully some time on the field would help them all clear their heads and prepare to help Lindsey through the worst, if that news came. 

****

Lindsey sat at the airport, her knee bouncing with impatience. She had gotten the call just as practice ended, assuring her that you were fine and providing her with your ladders flight information. So here she was, with the seconds feeling like hours, waiting for you to make your way through the terminal and back to her. 

She stood the second your limping form came into view, wrapping you into a hug the second you were within reach. She buried her face into your red sweatshirt, breathing in your scent that was slightly more smokey than usual. 

“Hey babydoll,” You sighed, kissing her forehead and hugging her tight. You nosed her hair, smiling tiredly at the sweet smell you found there. It felt so good to have the woman you loved back in your arms. 

“You scared the shit out of me,” She said, her voice muffled by the heavy fabric of your shirt. You brought your hand up to card it comfortingly though her hair, brushing her ear with each pass, your cheek still resting gently on her head. 

“I know darling, I’m so sorry. We didn’t realize it had circled back, and we got caught for a little while, but I’m alright. I’m here,” You mumbled, pressing another kiss to her head and holding her impossibly tighter. 

She didn’t need to know the gory details of your near death encounter. She didn’t need to know just how close of a call it had been. All she needed to know was that you were here, safe with her, and that you would be for a while. You took a little step back, and she looked up at you. You cupped her cheek, and gently brought your lips to hers. You needed to feel that she was here right now. 

“I love you, even though you terrify me,” She mumbled against your lips, before gently probing your bottom lip with her tongue, asking for entrance. You smirked, pulling away just enough to huff out a, “Hey, I love you too even though you terrify me,” before reconnecting your mouths. 

Your tongues entertained for a few seconds, before air became an issue. You connected your foreheads, your heavy breathing falling gently across her lips. 

“I scare you?” She breathed out, and you felt your lips tick up at the question. 

“Have you seen the size of some of the people coming after you?” You asked in return, pulling away as your girl nearly doubled over in laughter.

“I’m serious, people like Kelley are seriously scary,” You mumbled, warmth spreading across your cheeks. Emily and Lindsey insisted she was harmless, but that shovel talk she had given you had left you shaken. 

“You fight giant walls of flames that can vaporize you for a living and you’re scared of squirrel?” Lindsey weazed. 

“Hmm, not when I have you to protect me,” you smiled, pulling her back into your chest and flinging her over your shoulder, patting her but as you began walking towards the luggage carousel. 

You were safe, and with her and that’s all that mattered. 

[dean-winchesters-gardian-angel]

The Same Bed - Chapter 3

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Friends are there to help each other out, but can they help falling for each other when all the long days they spend together turn into late nights they have and their reliance on each other.

Word count: 2675

Warnings: Fluff, angst, slow burn.

A/N: This is probably my favourite chapter so I hope you like it. Read it, enjoy it and I’ll see you on the other side. There’s also a tag list, so be sure to tell me if you want in, as well as a masterlist so be sure to give that a look if your short and content. Like the rest, unbeta’d all mistakes are mine.

Series masterlist 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam was jolted from his restful position at his laptop by the bang on the door followed by giggling. A man and a woman. The door swung open revealing Y/N accompanied closely by Dean, both holding grocery bags, as they rushed down the stairs.

“Nuh-uh! I have the snack you have to go put groceries away in the fridge! Hey Sam!” Y/N chucked, carelessly tossing him the cashews the youngest of the brothers had requested. Sam sat as he watched the scene before him play out.

“No fair! You always pick crappy romance movies! At least my picks are bearable!” Sam was stunned in place after catching his nuts. Unused to seeing his brother and best friend in such a cheerful mood, considering the possibility of a curse.

“What is going on here?” Y/N answers his question in a rushed, out of breath yell.

“Dean wanted to pick the movie but he picked last time and I was smart enough to grab the snack bag instead of the groceries, so I didn’t have to go to the kitchen and miss my chance at picking the movie!” She ran down the hall holding the ‘e’ and the end of ‘movie’. A moment later Dean came out of the kitchen holding two plates with pie on them.

“She cheated. She shoved me over before she unlocked the trunk leaving me with —“ He lifted the plates as a reference to the end of the statement.

“How did she get the keys?” Dean's hand managed to hold both plates in one hand with a fork in the other. With a full mouth, Dean answers his brother in a nonchalant manner as though the answer was as obvious as two plus two.

“She drove.”

“You let her drive!?”

“Yeah, look I’d love to talk but if I don’t get in there soon, she’s gonna pick the worst movie possible. I gotta get in there and try to persuade her to some’ better.”

Sam was left in awe in his chair. The youngest had always, arguably, been the smarter of the two, which allowed him to spot the signs far before Dean could, though they were hard to miss. Sam had always been aware of Dean's fondness of their best friend, but he also thought his brother would never allow himself to fall. Seems as though he was wrong.

“We are not watching that.” Dean blurted out as he entered the room.

“Dean I’m literally scrolling! I’m not even on anything specific!” Y/N spotted the plates of pie. “That for me?”

“No.” His mouth was full of pie.

“Whatever Dean, I know you. You put two pieces on your own plate.”

“So?” He swallowed looking at her.

“I promise to consider your opinion on the movie I pick?” She bit her bottom lip, eyebrows raised in an expectant manner, one arm extended awaiting the plated pie.

“Fine.” Dean handed her the plate taking a seat next to where she lay on her stomach looking at the television. “No romance.” Y/N took the plate and set it in front of her, gripping the fork right before shovelling a considerably large piece of pie in her mouth.

“I said I’d consider. Not that it matters. I already picked. I was just browsing while I waited for you. Oh, and it is a romance. Oh! And to top it off, it a musical.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me”

“We’re watching Grease.”

“Alright have fun I’m gonna go help Sam with research.”

“As if you’d pick research over a movie, regardless of the genre.”

“You’ve got a point.”

“Don’t be a baby. You can still be manly if you watch musicals, you just gotta sing the baritone.” Y/N smiled up at him over her shoulder, a teasing look on her face. She started the movie and they both watched, Dean occasionally making ridiculously obvious comment such as:

“They would never just up and start singing about their summer!”

“Well obviously not Dean, it’s a movie. I mean come on ‘Poltergeist’, you really want me to believe ghosts are real?” 

Both howled as jokes came and went easing them into a comfortable location at the top of the bed leaning against the headboard and each other. Y/N sang along to most of the songs as Dean would hum to the ones he recognized until ‘Hopelessly Devoted’ began to play. Y/N, being the dramatic person she is, instantly got up kneeling on the bed as she sang pointing to Dean between glances at the telly. Dean had heard that particular song one too many times coming from Y/N’s room while she would make her bed or fold laundry. He heard it enough times that he had managed to store away each and every lyric in his head. In that moment, free of judgment, Dean joined Y/N in singing, reaching out his hand for hers which she took. They sang the whole song through to each other giggling as it ended with Sandy gliding paper over the water in a blow-up pool. Y/N collapsed next to her singing partner while he pulled her closer into his chest. They went about the evening eating snacks and teasing one another until the movie was over. They pulled apart at the credits to clean the room and prepare for bed.

“Here give me that, I’ll deal with the mess you go get ready for bed ‘kay?” Dean reached for Y/Ns plate.

“You know I’m not completely incapable of helping.”

“Oh, I’m well aware. But you can also let someone take care of you for a change.” He didn’t give her a chance at a rebuttal before taking the dishes and garbage leftover from their snacks, making his way to the kitchen. Now, Y/N wasn’t about to chase him down and argue with him  for wanting to help, so she made her way to her room to grab a towel and PJs before heading to the shower.

Dean entered the library with a reminiscent smile on his face as he thought back on his day.

“Dean.” His eyes shot up to his brother, who was still sitting at his laptop, his bag of cashews a third of the way empty.

“Sam.”

“I— Listen I understand not wanting to tell, like, Cass or Jack or anyone else but me, man? I’m your brother. I know the risks that come with dating, I, of all people, know the risks in this life and not wanting to tell people makes sense but I figured you’d at the very least tell me.”

“What in the hell are you on about man?” Over the two or so hours it took for them to watch their movie, Sam had come to the conclusion that Dean wasn't in denial of his feelings, in fact, he had already acted on them. Dean, on the other hand, was genuinely lost in Sam's statement.

“You and Y/N. I thought initially that you were just ignoring your feelings, turns out you guys are already dating.”

“Sam, wait you think we’re dating? What in the world gave you that idea?” Without a word, Sam gave Dean his best bitch-face he could muster, watching as Dean then thought back to everything that had happened that day not to mention them sleeping in the same bed for weeks.

“You guys sleep in the same bed every night, you go everywhere together, you let her drive your car, then there’s the fact that you were singing to a musical!”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“Dean you’re in love.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Dean—“

“Sam, no! Why can’t a guy and girl just be friends! That’s all we are!”

“You’re telling me that if she started dating someone, you’d be her first supporter.”

“That's not gonna happen.”

“You’re telling me that if she walked in here right now and said, ‘Dean we need to talk’ only to tell you she loves you; you wouldn’t be beyond happy.”

“Sammy, stop.”

“You wouldn’t hug her and kiss her all over; tell her you love her back. You’re telling me, the most observant person in the bunker, that you haven’t felt it? That surge of energy when she smiles at you? The protectiveness when there is any sort of masculine threat around, when someone asks for her name at a bar, Dean! I’ve seen you! Your entire posture changes when someone flirts with her!”

“I said stop, Sam!” Dean's reply came out loud and angry as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Just think about it. It could be really good, Dean. Don’t screw it up, ‘cause you’ll be the one losing her.”

“Hey, you guys okay in here? I don’t wanna have to break a stupid fight, I just showered I’m all clean. I don’t wanna have to the another ‘cause you’re bleeding everywhere.”

“We’re good Y/N. You need anything?”

“No, just came by to say good night and head to bed.” She looked too Dean who hadn’t looked away from her since she’d stepped into the library.

“Well, night Y/N.” Sam was first to answer while his brother picked up a wrapper that had fallen during his outburst.

“Night sweetheart.” With that Y/N headed back to Dean's room which, as she opened the door, realized it was all tidied up including the bed. Y/N smiled at that, remembering the night she made Dean get up so she could remake the bed. She hopped in putting her phone on the nightstand on the side of the bed she had claimed for herself.

Meanwhile, Dean made his way to the kitchen, cleaning the dishes before making his back to his room to grab a towel and PJs and follow Y/Ns example. Dean came back, his hair still damp and tussled, towel in hand, and got in bed next to Y/N after hanging it behind his door he had promptly shut after entering.

Both settled in, arranging pillows and blankets alike. After getting comfortable Y/N lifter her hand, as per their routine, for Dean to take. His hands stayed on his chest as he glanced at her hand. Every ounce of his body wanted to take it and interlace his fingers with hers, the thought giving him a rush. Every cell aching for the contact, but he ignored them all. Ignored the voice in his head screaming at him to take her hand and kiss it before falling asleep the same way he had done since the third night.

“I’m good for tonight.” Y/N gazed over to him with a hurt look on her face. She dropped her hand to her side slowly, not wanting to pressure her friend.

“Right, okay… well you know where it is if you need it.” Without a word Dean reached over and turned out the lights. The atmosphere around them was just short of tense. After a few beats, Y/N turned onto her side, facing away from Dean.

“Night Dean.” It took him a moment to conjure up the will the answer after hearing the pain and confusion in her voice.

“Night.”

Dean awoke the big spoon, reaching over his sleeping companion to hold her hand. In the moment Dean couldn’t care about the fact he was falling for her, — though some may argue he already had — he just wanted to hold her, feel her heartbeat through her t-shirt, the heat of her body against his own. He counted to five allowing himself a chance to memorize how she felt in his arms, before pulling away moving to his side of the bed.

The tension between them was tangible as they went about their day. Dean had practically ignored her all day, giving her the most benign answer, a grunt sufficing of acknowledgment. By nightfall Dean was ready for bed before anyone else, moving to his room. Y/N followed him shortly after, though still in her street clothes, just to check on him. She knocked and without awaiting an answer, opened the door.

“Dean? Are you okay? You’ve been off all day today and now you’re in bed before 7? What’s up.”

“Nothing. I’m fine, just tired.”

“You want me to—“

“No. Actually, Y/N, about that. I think I’ve figured out the nightmares I don’t need you to stay here anymore.” There was a pause while Y/N tried to understand his actions.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re highly lacking in tact Dean?” With that, she turned around and shut the door or rather slammed it. On her way to her room, she passed Sam who had heard the door.

“Hey, is everything okay with you guys?”

“We’re fine Sam.” Y/Ns response was blunt and to the point, a deep frown on her face as she shoved past him. She was angry, but why? She had been staying with Dean, not for her own benefit but to help him. To aid him in getting a full night's sleep that had previously been disrupted by nightmares which, he had claimed, were no longer. Dean was left in his room, lights turned off in hopes of deterring any questions his brother may want to ask. He knew what he had done was one of the least intelligent things he’s done but it had to happen. The more time he spent with her the deeper he would fall and with the life they lived, with the relationship he already had with her, it wasn’t a smart thing to let happen. So, he did the best he could with the aim of not leading her on and avoiding the subject entirely. The thing about Dean was if he liked something or someone as much as he did Y/N, he would, without a second thought, give his life to protect them. In his head, this is how he excused his actions. Being with someone like Dean could only hurt the other person. He was dangerous with a constant target on his back. To be with Dean meant sporting the twinning target though it was worth significantly more than his own because to hurt them meant hurting Dean in a more wounding and permanent way than hurting the Winchester himself. Dean wouldn't— couldn’t risk Y/N’s life because he loved her, if anything that would show the opposite of love. So, he would love her from afar, hurting her himself, but at least she was safe.

Y/N slept just fine in her own bed though it was colder than she remembered, and it took longer to fall asleep due to the missing rhythm of Dean's breathing. She was furious at Dean — and at herself for wanting him this way. It didn’t take long for her initial crush to grow. She was spending every day with him and then she got to sleep in the same bed as the eldest Winchester. Not that she’d have ever acted on it. She knew Dean would have never reciprocated her feeling and she’d made her peace with it. Dean had always been emotionally unavailable though she thought she was getting through to him as of late. She was satisfied with being his friend and one of his best at that. She got to spend every day with him, she was there when he needed her help and vice versa. Y/N had never been overly disappointed at the fact that her crush would never be more than one-sided. It couldn’t be. She understood that with the life they lived, having a relationship was off the table. But the way Dean had been acting the past two days admittedly hurt her. She never pushed him to do anything he didn’t want to do, and suddenly he had completely shut her out. 

Dean, on the other hand, simply refused to admit to his feelings. It hurt him just as much to push her away, but he declared it mandatory in order to protect her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 4

Tag List: @akshi8278 @bargedog @just-someone-difficult @mila-dans @valhallavxlkyrie

Series Tags: @autobotgirl15-blog @classyunknownlover @laycblack​ @lovememisha @redbarn1995 @wellfuckmyexistence​

[petrichormeraki]

So my brain made it's own weird realization that tommy (based on how just realizing dream visited to watch him brought color back to his eyes) would actually be more likely to cope with trauma grian style.

Also my brain found the perfect song for tommy in a him v. Tubbo "you've been brainwashed come back home" confrontation. The song is the acoustic version of set it off's dancing with the devil. Here's the lyrics so you can see why...

Life's too short to be dancing with the Devil

Life's too short to be dancing with the Devil

(he's so done with this war and drama crap)

You best sleep with a blanket and a shovel

Cause life's too short to be dancing with the Devil

(does he really think I would be happy in that shithole)

Where am I?

(not In that place, that's for sure)

My hands are tied

(I can't change just how stupid you are being right now)

Turn on the lights

(look around and read the room)

And I see you standing

Over me

(dangling my date over my head)

It's hard to breathe

(did I ever have a time when I wasn't seen as the on starting shit even when you started things)

I can't believe

That you'd do this to me

(you threw me out and now you come to the place I'm actually happy in to drag me back?)

Years of us building the trust up

No love was ever enough I'm

Foolish to think we were friends

It's funny how it ends

(self explanatory)

You know, when times get tough

You always give up

(the independence war, schlatt, my exile, hell even the butcher army he. Always have up on saying no to anyone else that put pressure on him.)

I know your smoking gun's

The tip of your tongue

(your only power over me was words)

You take your aim to point the blame

It's time we let it go

(it's time we stop pretending to be happy)

So save your lies, behind those eyes

You're a devil in disguise

(your another dream in the making)

Life's too short to be dancing with the Devil

Life's too short to be dancing with the Devil

(fuck the dream smp I'm staying here)

You best sleep with a blanket and a shovel

Cause life's too short to be dancing with the Devil

(go back to your deathbed)

Now it's time

To pay the price

(to part ways)

No playing nice

When you live so selfish

(remember when you called me that, how you never saw me when you did.)

Have a drink

(go ahead pull a schlatt)

And make a scene

(cause a problem)

Embarrass me

(your already doing a fine job of that)

Cause you're lost and hopeless

(your just someone's puppet now)

Years of us building the trust up

(we were best friends)

No love was ever enough I'm

Foolish to think we were friends

(it never was enough for you to try and show some of the the loyalty I showed you back.)

It's funny how it ends

(funny how you only cared after you thought I was dead.)

And you know, when times get tough

You always give up

(you think I don't see how reliant on me you were)

I know your smoking gun's

The tip of your tongue

(I know it's already fallen apart)

You take your aim to point the blame

It's time we let it go

(because of course I can't just be happier here)

So save your lies, behind those eyes

You're a devil in disguise

(you can't change the truth tubbo)

Life's too short to be dancing with the Devil (yeah)

Life's too short to be dancing with the Devil (yeah)

You best sleep with a blanket and a shovel

Cause life's too short to be dancing with the Devil

You try to act as if you're saving me

(you always acted like I made literally all of the messed we got into, like your tubbo moments don't exist)

But you wouldn't cut the rope if it was hanging me

(you fucked up and signed me off to die alone)

I'm sick of people saying what you sow you reap

(as if everything is my fault)

Cause I've been counting down the minutes of that, so to speak

(because I can see that fucking implosion a thousand portals away)

Think of all the hours and hours of grind

(all the hard work and sacrifice that brought l'manburg into being)

That would turned into sour findings

(that only lead up to me being blamed for the fall of what I, willbur, and Fundy built)

As I wonder if our resigning is becoming the silver lining

(I finally got my freedom but only because I left)

But I'm not a coward, I'm fighting

(I refuse to be ruled by the past)

Cause if they're the meat then I'm biting

( if you try to drag me back I will fucking eat your hope until your dumbass runs back to your bullshit death hole)

Go ahead ignoring and smiling

(like you always fucking do tubbo)

Cause I'm climbing 'till I let...

(that fucking world burn)

You know, when times get tough

You always give up

(you gave up on me)

I know your smoking gun's

The tip of your tongue

(and you can't even admit it to yourself)

You take your aim to point the blame

(you just keep going on and on about complete bullshit)

It's time we let it go

(it's time you got the hint)

So save your lies, behind those eyes

(I know you can tell I am staying of my own Free Will)

Yeah you know, when times get tough

(when it all goes to shit)

You always give up

(you just go along with the storm)

I know your smoking gun's

The tip of your tongue

(all you have is fucking words)

You take your aim to point the blame

(to pretend your perfectly innocent)

It's time we let it go

(I'm done with this)

So save your lies, behind those eyes

(after all this)

You're a devil in disguise

(schlatt would pity you even...)

Life's too short to be dancing with the Devil

Life's too short to be dancing with the Devil

(there is no point In staying in a hellhole let alone going back to one.)

You best sleep with a blanket and a shovel

Cause life's too short to be dancing with the Devil

(tubbo better hope someone will bury him when he dies from his own hubris.)

[mccall-me-maurice]

Lotf characters as songs I like w/ some sort of analysis ((Explicit lyrics!!!))

Jack - Walk Away, The Script [Mildly Explicit]

“If you don’t go now, then you’ll stay. Cause I’ll never let you leave, never let you breathe. Cause If you’re looking for heaven, baby it sure as hell ain’t me.”

“She’s standing in the heart of darkness, saying ‘I know you got a soul even though you’re heartless’”

“But still she stays..”

So Jack is the type of person who believes of himself as the disaster in a relationship but would never admit it. Hes the person who thinks he can take a perfect thing and tear it down into little pieces. However, when someone finally stays he warns them and they see beyond his horrible exterior to know that he isnt a monster and he’s not the demon that he claims to be.

Ralph - Jesus in LA, Alec Benjamin [Non-Explicit]

“And It’s a crying shame you came all this way, ‘cause you won’t find Jesus in LA”

“When they sold you the dream, you were just 16, packed your bags and ran away.”

“You won’t find him down on sunset, or at a party in the hills, at the bottom of the bottle, or when you’re tripping on some pills”

“I know I’m not your saviour, know I’m not your truth”

Ralph lost his saviour and truth on the island, and eventually mentally left this world. He eventually lost everything he once knew for good, giving into his medication to keep him okay. However, that doesn’t last long and he eventually “comes down to his level” and “hangs out with the devil”

Simon - Stars, Grace Potter and the Nocturnals [Non Explicit]

“I can’t look at the stars, they make me wonder where you are. Stars, up on Heaven’s Boulevard”

“The moon is shining, but I can’t see the light.”

“And If I know you at all, I know you’ve gone too far”

Simon is the person on the island who I headcanon to look up at the stars the most. However, the song also says ‘up on Heavens Boulevard’ which correlates to Simon’s death. It’s a peaceful song to match Simon’s peacefulness. Because of my personal headcanon, I believe the choir can no longer look up the sky the same once they get back home

Roger - Dancing With the Devil, Set it Off [Non Explicit]

“You know, when times get tough, you always give up.”

“Life’s too short to be dancing with the devil, you best sleep with a blanket and a shovel.”

“Don’t play it nice, when you live so selfish”

“It’s funny how it ends”

Roger is obviously the books rendition of a pure evil character, however something made him that way. Despite being in a christian choir, he does have satanic tendencies and is almost eager to start stabbing things. He is doing a dance with the devil that will only end in his demise.

Peter (Piggy) - Little Wonders, Rob Thomas [Non Explicit]

“Don’t you know? The hardest part is over”

“Let your clarity define you.”

“Time falls away, but these small hours still remain.”

“These twists and turns of fate.”

While Piggy didn’t get all the hours in his life as he should’ve, he was set up by fate to not make it off the island. He should’ve lived longer and should’ve grown up with the rest of them. However, he didn’t and by dying he eventually learned that the hardest of part of his life, the actual living part, is over.

Maurice - Burned, Grace Vanderwaal [Non Explicit]

“Just blow out the candles, oh little boy when will you learn?“

“You don’t play with fire unless you wanna get burned”

“You didn’t blow out the candles, Oh little boy, you‘lol never learn. You don’t play with fire but you’re already burned.”

Maurice was more of the jokester type from the beginning. He was more carefree and childish. However, he was still a savage by the end and still did disregard the rules of society. He was burned by Jack’s flame without even realising it because nobody warned him that he needed to douse the fire.

[cmfan3]

I’d Let You Love Me Forever

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau X Emily Prentiss

Warning: Fluff ??

Words: 1K

This is dedicated to @beware-of-you-98 because without her, I honestly wouldn’t have gotten into writing, even if it is just for fun. Her work motivated me and her support kept me going. She’s so underrated and you guys have to read her work on ao3 @beware_of_you. 💛

Jumping onto the couch with a tub of ice cream and two spoons, a grin broke out on the blonde’s face when she heard the sweet sound of the brunette’s laugh. JJ cuddled into Emily’s side, opening the ice cream and passing a spoon to the older woman. As they dug in, JJ turned to her girlfriend, “Em, do you know what we should do today?” Emily thought about it for a moment before she responded, “watch a movie while finishing this ice cream?”

The blonde shook her head slightly, shoveling another spoonful into her mouth before she began, “we should start the fireplace and make a pillow fort.” Emily froze before she turned towards JJ, a look of utter confusion on her face, “what? I mean I’ll do it, but that was so random Jayje.” As Emily met the ocean blue eyes she’s always loved, a spark of mischief flashed across them, which was then matched with a smirk, the tub of ice cream long forgotten between the two.

With the fort not standing upright for more than a few seconds after every attempt, Emily was about to give up. Standing by the fireplace, JJ simply laughed at the look of frustration that emerged on the brunette’s face. The smaller woman walked up to her girlfriend and wrapped her arms around the front of her waist, smiling into the back of the older woman’s neck. Emily leaned into the embrace, sighing, “Jen this isn’t working. Are you sure you want to make a pillow fort? We could cuddle on the couch with a movie instead.”

JJ turned the brunette so they were face to face. Smiling as she placed a soft kiss on Emily’s lips, the blonde mumbled with a laugh, “only because you don’t know how to do it. Leave it to the expert.” The brunette scoffed as the smaller woman waggled her eyebrows at her, a smile tugging at her lips. She then turned and began picking up the mess of what Emily tried to turn into a fort.

Emily stood back and watched as JJ stacked the pillows and added blankets, essentially creating the base and walls of the fort. As the blonde was building and finishing up the now standing fort, Emily decided to start up the fireplace and turn on their favorite playlist. After the last pillow was added and the fire started, the two crawled under JJ’s creation cuddling together under the blanket as soft music filled the air.

Emily was resting her head against the younger woman’s chest with her arm splayed out across her torso as their legs were tangled together. JJ had one arm wrapped protectively around Emily’s back while running her fingers through the brunette hair. As she felt JJ’s fingers dance through her hair, Emily hummed, “I love you Jayje.” JJ leaned down and placed a soft kiss on the brunette’s head as she ran her fingers down along Emily’s spine, whispering into her hair, “I love you too Em, with all that I am.”

Emily pulled back slightly and looked up into her lover’s eyes, a smile playing on her lips, “Jen, I want to start a family with you. I want to spend the rest of my life waking up with you beside me. I want to go to sleep every night with you in my arms. I want to be there to catch you when you’re falling. I want to grow old and get wrinkly with you. I want to love you for as long as you’d let me.”

Feeling an overwhelming amount of love for the woman in her arms, JJ cupped the brunette’s face and pulled her up, meeting her in a soft yet passionate kiss, attempting to convey her feelings without actually saying anything. After a moment, they pulled apart, but Emily felt JJ’s breath ghost her lips as she whispered, “forever Em. I’d let you love me forever.”

Staring at the blonde as love filled her heart, Emily whispered, “marry me? I know I don’t have a ring right now, bu-” JJ cut her off by kissing her intensely, tangling her hands in the older woman’s hair as Emily’s hand gripped her waist tightly, pulling her closer. As they parted, Emily noticed the unshed tears shining in her favorite baby blue eyes. Before Emily could comment on them, JJ let out a breathless laugh, “yes Em. Of course I’ll marry you. I’d marry you a hundred times over and over again. I don’t need a ring, I just need you.”

Beaming, Emily sat up, bumping her head against the top of the fort, letting out a grunt of surprise as her forehead made contact. JJ let out a bark of laughter as she watched the scene unfold causing Emily to send a playful glare her way. Her laughter was cut short when the fort promptly collapsed on them burying them under a sea of pillows and blankets. The women’s heads burst from the pillows, the blonde still laughing at Emily’s clumsiness while the brunette had a sheepish smile on her now flushed face.

Pushing the now destroyed fort away, Emily pulled up JJ as she stood, the soft music still playing in the background. The brunette enveloped the smaller woman into her arms, resting her chin attop JJ’s head, “I want this to be perfect for you Jayje. You deserve only the best. We have to start planning it now. Garcia would-” JJ hugged her fiancé tighter, “anything would be perfect for me as long as you’re the one standing at the end of the aisle.” Emily smiled in response as she placed a loving kiss to the blonde’s lips, both reveling in the love they shared for each other.

The song Can’t Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley began to fill the small house. The fire was crackling softly in the background, basking the living room in a soft glow. In the center of it all, the two lovers were clinging to each other, swaying slightly in time with the music. JJ had her arms wrapped around the older woman’s neck while resting her head against her chest, listening to her heartbeat instead of the music.

Emily’s arms wrapped around the blonde’s torso, holding her flush against her body as she rested her chin on the smaller woman’s head. Gently swaying to the song, the two women were basking in each other’s presence, each feeling overwhelmed for the love they had for the other, excited for their future, together.

[casimania]

Next drabble idea I'll probably never write: AU season 4 where Lucifer still has to leave for Hell but it's Piercifer and he leaves Marcus behind who just... slowly spends more and more time at the penthouse until he's basically living there outside of work and moping around. Drinking, growing the depression beard back, cursing at Lucifer and God, badly singing sad songs and playing along with his guitar, just being a sad sack in general.

Except this is either also a Deckerstar AU (poly but a V with Lucifer in the middle) or Lucifer has been Chloe's closest friend and partner for years and she misses him, so one day she doesn't have Trixie and she just misses him a lot she sneaks up the penthouse. And there's just Pierce and his beard and a terrible bed head in his sweats and a t-shirt surrounded by empty bottles of not so cheap alcohol and half empty bottles of definitely not so cheap alcohol. And she's immediately backing away because she's good at second guessing herself and thinks she's intruding but he's like "He left you too behind, didn't he?" and waves a bottle in her direction. Cause of course she misses him too, and in a way they both remind each other of him. So she takes the alcohol and sits down. They don't talk much, just drink and sigh. She doesn't have it in her to leave when it gets dark outside so Pierce leaves her the bed since he's been sleeping there pretty much all the time. And he just throws his legs on the couch and passes out there.

[[MORE]]

... Okay I'm definitely making it a Deckerstar + Piercifer V, I just like the idea rn. Anyway, they go on with this routine for a while. Chloe comes over when Dan (or Dan and Charlotte together) has Trixie with him (they alternate whole weeks now, he's learned to do dad stuff in a timely manner finally). They drink and sorta grunt or sigh in each other's general direction and just amble around the penthouse. Sometimes Chloe puts a movie on to take her mind off things (stuff she watched with Lucifer) and a couple of times Pierce just sits down and read one of Lucifer's books and they fall asleep in front of the tv some of those ones.

One evening Marcus finds Chloe going through the freezer and she pulls aside a few ice cream tubs with like, unicorns or puppies on them (Marcus already saw them and was kinda "??", Chloe says Trixie likes the big screen and Lucifer playing songs for her so he bought some snacks for her for when she came over. She dives more into the freezer and they both pretend she's not suddenly holding back tears) she hits jackpot when she finds some ice cream with a fancy name and no cartoony animals or overly sweet flavours and she doesn't even both with a bowl, just takes a spoon (then goes back for another she throws at Marcus) . And she sits disgruntled in front of the TV and eats it. She's stressed over a case and just murders the absolute shit out of the ice cream, she pushes it Pierce's way a couple of times and he gets like the tiniest spoonfuls and then she's back at shoveling it back in her mouth looking absolutely miserable.

Pierce surprised them both by asking her about the case (they usually don't talk much in these moments). He knows the gist of it because he assigned it to her but she was decidedly in a better mood earlier. And she says it's not as much as the case being overly complicated, she has hunch, but for the first time she was in the middle of an interrogation or a investigating and she was suddenly hit with all the ways Lucifer could have influenced the situation. And then her brain just couldn't turn it off and she basically couldn't stop thinking about him. Going back to the precinct didn't help, he was always sitting on her desk. There's Marcus himself who Lucifer always made a beeline for a couple of times at least and he's looking like as sad as a saggy bowl of cereals too and that made her only think more about Lucifer being gone. She thought retreating at the penthouse could have helped but instead of being a comfort and making her feel like he's still somewhat around, it just makes her feel more the fact that he's not there and could never come back. And from there it's like, the gates are open. They start to talk about Lucifer. They get angry at him, they get angry at God, they get angry at the demons who came for him and at all the angels who didn't help and they it just ends up with them just talking about Lucifer in general. The hit he pulled that exasperated them, that was actually kinda funny or just so Lucifery you just took it as it came.

And it's a first for them. Not just talking about Lucifer or with each other at the penthouse. Just the two of them talking in general. They sort of exist in the same space because they both love Lucifer in this AU. But Chloe has to digest the Sinnerman thing. Cause I think she wouldn't hold onto the First Murderer thing because in her mind, ideally one would have had a trial and appropriate punishment in that situation. But between the time it was and who they were he got himself a literal Curse. He did a bad thing but she can't really wrap her mind around the punishment, people go to prison and never get out or people go to prison and then get out and try to live a normal life. He had God himself him Mark him as forever wandering the Earth alone and she's just... what does she do with that?? Biblical stuff is just too fucked up for her. She acknowledges that's stuff that happens 6000+ years ago and Pierce is gonna deal with that with Pierce and Lucifer. She had more of an issue with his more recent crime boss things. Lucifer skirts the line of what she finds okay, Dan went dangerously over some times, Pierce has been living on the other side for so long she's just no ok with that. But they all have a complicated situation. And in the 2 years he got to know Lucifer he sort of, dropped the whole thing (and may have been sort of ratting out some people because it seemed to make Lucifer happy because it made Chloe happy). She recognizes it doesn't make what he did retroactively better but look, she has a complicated love life. If what it took to make an old ass immortal man a little more nice and human is the Devil himself making puppy eyes at him and naming him feel bad about fucked up shit he does forth first time in millennia... she decides she can sort of deal with it. And for Marcus is sort of :/ over Chloe being a mortal, cause he knows it hurts losing someone to time and he can just imagine how Lucifer will suffer, especially since he feels just so much (and it takes him a while to get out of this mentality, that doesn't makes him think Lucifer gets attached to humans only because he's gotten to know them for so little compared to him, that with enough time they'll be the same, cause his is the only logical way of feeling over this). And in general he's got some deep seated fear that Chloe was put on Lucifer's path for nefarious purposes. They all have that little moment of doubt, like okay she has her feelings and takes her choices?? But what if God knew Marcus and Lucifer would have crossed paths and Chloe is there to prevent it in osns way? Or to be used to send him back to Hell? They reflect on it a little and get over it mostly, but Marcus still has this little voice inside him saying that maybe she's there for Lucifer to think "Why have him when I can have her?" the only things he seemingly brings in the relationship is immortality and understanding through that, but Lucifer lurks defying expectations and just went "BOTH BOTH I LOVE BOTH I WANT BOTH IF THEY'LL HAVE ME" and told them in detail what wonderful things they both brought to the relationship (Chloe needed that too. From her pov she's the one that can't fully get Lucifer and will just hurt him by dying in such a short time and maybe never see him again. But he proves both of their fears wrong). So yeah, until this point they were never really making comfortable conversation all the time and hanging out together. Just recognized each other as someone important to Lucifer that makes him happy and they were trying to work out if they could live in close contact when shit hit the fan and Lucifer had to go.

And from then they form some sort of understanding. They talk more about Lucifer. They get Eve, Maze, Dan, Charlotte, Linda and Amenadiel and try to make him contact other Angels and then shit happen with Azrael and Ella joins the Celestial-knowing club. They make concrete plans to get him out. They start being more like themselves and interact more in general.

Then one day Chloe is under the covers of Lucifer's bed and Marcus is on the other side and has kicked them off (it's easier than just taking turns, and while they never got to the point with having Lucifer time all together in an intimate way, they don't find it weird, sharing living spaces was something they had been considering before things got fucked up) and they suddenly wake up in a tangle of blankets and feathers and ashes and there's Lucifer looking absolutely terrible but he lights up like the Sun upon seeing them and they immediately pounce on him. He thinks he's dreaming and they tell him they've been just sort of living there together when Dan has Trixie and they want to know what's going on. Unfortunately it's not permantent, the demons are chilling enough he can fly up for a little while but he still has to go back if they don't find a solution. He mostly does it to get his Chloe and Marcus fills and cry a little about how much he loves them and wishes he didn't have to leave them and will find a way to come back to them permanently and he's sorry he left looking intend on not coming back (he tought it was the best option, but he just missed them so much).

And nothing. Shit's fucked but slowly maybe they find a solution. Didn't really wrote a plot. I just wanted Chloe and Marcus moping together over Lucifer and talking about him and helping each other get out of the dark pit of despair.

[tacticalchokehold]

After Ever After

Rating:

Not Rated

Archive Warning

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

F/F

Fandom:

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)

Relationship:

Adora/Catra (She-Ra)

Read Here on AO3

Summary: Post-Finale fluff, restoring magic to the universe, Catra and Adora exploring their relationship, other characters appear. Etheria healing from Horde Prime's occupation, dealing with the planet's magic being restored. Is anyone going to put Hordak on trial for his war crimes? Yes, no? Ok.

How do you discover what normal is when all you've known your entire life is war and conflict?

Chapter 1: One Week Later

For the first time in a very long time, Adora awoke peacefully .

A week after defeating Horde Prime, the Best Friend Squad and the Princess Alliance had elected to take a vacation of sorts -- time off now that their largest threat any of them had ever could have even conceived in their lifetimes had been vanquished. Glimmer was taking this time to reacquaint herself and catch up with Micah; they had a lot to discuss. The other princesses returned to their kingdoms to rebuild and recoup, Entrapta accompanying Scorpia back to the Fright Zone to tackle the idea of rebuilding her kingdom. Not a prospect anyone thought Hordak would conform with, but the fact that he hadn’t been met with the same fate as Horde Prime, all things considered, he wasn’t in much position to object to the will of the Princesses without fear of obliteration.

Bow had left for the Whispering Woods after a couple of days to help his dads restore the library, their home, and move their supplies and equipment back out of the First Ones ruins they’d been hiding out in. Brightmoon Castle was… quiet, as of late, a stark contrast to the chaos that had been engulfing all of Etheria not even a month prior.

Laying on her back, Adora’s eyes fluttered open to stare up at the ceiling of her room in the castle. Sometimes even now, it still never felt exactly like home. But right then, she couldn’t have felt more at home, the sound of soft purring reaching her ears, a comforting weight on her chest and shoulder, a soft arm draped across her middle underneath the blankets. Groggy with sleep, she lifted a hand, arm half asleep with Catra’s head on the crook between her shoulder and left bicep. She started to card her fingers through Catra’s hair, nails gently scraping along her scalp, causing the relaxed rumbling coming from the other girl to kick up like a motor starting.

She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing, and lifted her head to look down at the foot of the bed, Melog curled up and downsized to its smaller blue form, still snoozing away just as its master was. Adora let her head fall back down onto her pillow with a soft sigh, taking a few more minutes just to… enjoy this. No battles to fight. No armies to dismantle. No interstellar conquerors to defeat. Just the early morning light filtering through the purple curtains, the smell of morning dew drifting to her nose from the partially open window.

Mornings in Brightmoon were so different from mornings in the Fright Zone. For starters, you wouldn’t even be able to see the sun through the industrial smog covering the skyline. The only way to tell time would be the digital clocks dotted over the doors of the barracks, mess hall, locker room, and nearly every other door down every other corridor. The Horde wanted to make sure you knew that time was a very precious commodity, and yours was limited if one didn’t bend to Hordak’s will. Nearly every morning started in the barracks with a CO hollering at the top of his lungs to wake the cadets up.

Adora recalled scrambling for her clothes, tying her hair up and shoveling a morning protein bar in her mouth, all while jogging to get to training. More often than not she’d have to stop to really make sure Catra woke up, shaking the girl at the foot of her bed by her shoulders and near-dragging her out the door.

But here? Now? They didn’t have to go anywhere. They didn’t have to answer to anyone. They had sort of just saved all of Etheria, and freed the entire universe from Horde Prime’s tyranny. They could afford to take a little break for the first time in their lives.

Adora was pulled from her thoughts by a stirring at her side. Her hand in Catra’s hair stilled, watching as she opened her mouth and yawned wide, brow furrowing and closed eyes scrunching up further. Sharp fangs gleamed, her ears twitching under Adora’s fingers. Catra blinked open her eyes, bleary and searching, landing on Adora’s face. They went wide for a moment, and she could feel her tense up, the arm around her middle tightening, claws pricking her skin through her tank top, the fur along her shoulders rising before Adora smiled wide.

“You’ve got awful morning breath, you know that?” Adora asked with a laugh, settling her arm around Catra’s shoulders and drawing her back in, hoping the touch would soothe her gut-reaction of fleeing. Seemed they both still couldn’t quite… believe it. Almost immediately Catra’s disbelief melted away, and she lifted a hand, pushing a palm into Adora’s cheek and shoving her face away.

“You’re one to talk,” she grumbled back, her voice rough with sleep as Melog got up from the foot of the bed and wandered up the bed towards the two of them. He laid across Catra’s hip as she rolled up onto her side, retrieving her arm from around Adora’s middle to prop herself up on her elbow. Adora mirrored her posture, pulling her arm back to rest her head in her palm, rolling onto her side to bring herself closer to her again, bumping their foreheads together briefly.

“Sleep okay?” she asked, letting blue eyes close to simply feel the peace in the air around them, quiet and tucked away from the rest of the world in their own little corner of paradise. A small smile curved Catra’s lips, and she leaned up, brushing the tip of her nose against hers, humming a simple affirmative response. Adora felt her heart leap when her face got closer, a modicum of disbelief still present every day that Catra loved her.

“You? You didn’t wake up thrashing at all,” Catra noted. Normally she woke up long before Adora did due to her tossing and turning, even occasionally on the receiving end of an unlucky swing in the dead of night.

“Yeah, actually. I feel… really well rested, actually,” Adora admitted with a short laugh, dropping her free hand between them. Catra’s touch reached for hers at the same time, their fingers finding each other on the mattress between them, folding her hand over the back of Adora’s and interlacing their fingers together. Adora lifted her hand to her mouth, letting her lips brush over Catra’s knuckles without much thought to it, glancing up at her face in time to see her blush at the motion, ears dropping back against her head.

“Ugh, you’re so gross,” Catra scoffed, pulling her hand away and giving her a light shove in the shoulder back before she sat up. Adroa grinned, sitting up behind her and getting up on her knees, draping her arms around Catra’s middle and resting her chin on her shoulder. She let her body rest against her back, leaning her weight onto Catra’s frame.

“This coming from the girl who licks stuff to claim it as hers?” Adora countered, giving her a light squeeze as Melog dropped from Catra’s lap onto the floor to wander over to the window and get a look outside. Catra was quiet for a moment, before she turned her head, licking the side of Adora’s face with an indignant noise.

“Catra!” Adora yelped, falling back slightly in her shock; but really, she should’ve seen that one coming. She wiped at her cheek with her arm, laughing, as Catra turned around and leapt on her, pushing her onto her back further. They devolved into tickling each other between Adora’s attempts to shove Catra’s face with her tongue sticking out away from her own, rolling back and forth. They only stopped when their wrestling landed them on the floor, breaking apart with a light “oof” before they both laughed it off.

“C’mon,” Adora said, getting to her feet, extending a hand down to Catra,”Let’s go grab breakfast.”

- - -

The large double doors to the dining room opened with a shove. Cleaned up and dressed, Adora was happy to see Glimmer and Micah already at the table, talking excitedly over full plates of breakfast. Micah straightened when the doors opened, and gave a light wave to the two as they entered, a warm smile on his face. He had taken to tying his long hair back rather than cutting it, dressed in relaxed regalia considering his daughter was officially the Queen. The Queen in question turned when he waved, and Glimmer grinned, a burst of glitter and light popping as she teleported over between Catra and Adora. Slinging her arms around their shoulders, she pulled them down slightly as she was shorter, saying,”Good morning sleepyheads! Come and sit, there’s lots to eat!”

Catra bristled, slipping back out of the hold with a huff, Adora grinning at her predictable reaction. Glimmer had never been a morning person before; it was usually Bow’s job to wake them up and get them moving, but ever since she’d been reunited with Micah, Glimmer seemed to be bursting with energy. As they took their seats beside each other and started loading up their plates with the veritable buffet spread on the table, Glimmer teleported back over to her seat beside her father.

“You’re just in time,” Micah said, taking a sip from his cup of coffee,”We were just talking about the idea you had to bring magic back to the universe.”

Adora paused, halfway lifting a large bite of breakfast sausage to her mouth. She set her fork back down, her eyes drawn to Catra seated at her side. She was watching her, waiting for her reply just as intently as Micah and Glimmer seemed to be, but otherwise her expression didn’t betray her feelings on the idea. Under the table however, Adora felt Catra’s hand rest on her knee, giving a reassuring squeeze.

Taking a breath, Adora said,”Right. The thing is, when I said that, I didn’t exactly have any idea how to do that. She-Ra was only able to restore Etheria’s magic because it already had magic reserves, dormant deep beneath the surface. If a planet has been completely sapped of magical energy, I’m not sure she’d be able to do it. I don’t want to give the people of those planets false hope, promising something I’m not sure I can accomplish.”

“You defeated Horde Prime!” Glimmer reminded her,”I’m sure even if for some reason you can’t restore a planet’s magic, the people living there won’t stop being grateful for that ! I was already thinking we could visit the Star Siblings’ planet. They knew what magic was, and those stories must have come from somewhere. Not to mention they probably have more experience with interstellar travel than we do, and could probably provide a better idea of where to start than just running off in a random direction and hoping for the best.”

“Isn’t that what you guys normally do though?” Catra asked with an arched brow, grin on her face showing the jab was in good humor. Glimmer stuck her tongue out at her in response, earning a chuckle from Micah at the gesture perhaps unbecoming of the Queen of Brightmoon.

“It always worked out for us before,” Adora said with a shrug,”Besides, even when we did try to make a plan, they usually fell apart within the first ten minutes.” For all her tactical and strategic planning skills learned from the Horde, when applied on actual missions with the Rebellion, the ideas never seemed to stick. An unexpected circumstance always seemed to pop up and throw everything out of whack. The hand on her knee gave another squeeze, and she was pleasantly surprised to find Catra looking at her with earnest, open encouragement.

“You didn’t have me before,” she said,”I said I’d be coming with you. If… when we go, I’ll make sure your plans stay on track.”

Adora felt her chest swell with warmth, and she laid her hand over Catra’s, unable to fight the smile on her face.

“That sounds perfect.”

“Great! That just leaves us Bow,” Glimmer said, pushing her now empty plate forward,”I’ll have to check in with the other Princesses too. See how everyone’s doing before we start mapping this out. This is so exciting!”

She stood, and with another burst of magic, teleported out of the room. Micah smiled into his cup of coffee, before setting the now empty mug down. He leaned back in his seat, sighing contentedly,”It’s good to be home.”

Catra nudged Adora in the side, nodding at their food then tipping her head towards the door. Adora blinked once then stood, picking up her plate and saying,”Uhh, King Micah-- your Highness-- we’re uh, going to take our breakfast outside.”

He seemed a bit surprised, mostly by the fact that she’d inform him, sounding as if she were asking permission. She was She-Ra after all. And after liberating all of Etheria from the magical constraints the First Ones had put in place and defeating Horde Prime, it’s not as if anyone would really object to her taking her breakfast outside with her girlfriend.

Catra gathered up her own plate, Melog winding back and forth between their legs as they ducked out of the dining hall and down through the castle corridors to one of the gardens outside. They bumped into each other purposefully along the way, trying to get the other to drop their food, until they found a nice shaded spot underneath a fruit tree, plopping down in a heap to eat, leaning against each other while Melog chased butterflies back and forth through the courtyard.

The rest of the castle seemed to still be asleep, and it was these quiet moments together, Adora resting her head on Catra’s shoulder while they leaned back against the trunk of the tree together, shoveling food into their mouths, not saying a word while they ate; she was really happy . Honestly and truly happy.

And that made her nervous.

She knew it made Catra nervous, too. The way they both would keep looking over their shoulders for the next threat, the next danger. Listening for sounds of conflict late into the night before sleep took them, needing to distract each other by staying up and whispering about whatever , and up until last night, Adora still waking up ready to fight, heart thudding and adrenaline lancing through her veins. She still had a knife under her pillow. Catra had her claws, of course, so she didn’t need a knife, but the way she bristled at nearly every little sound was obvious. Melog would have to lay on her chest while she took deep breaths to calm herself down, Adora stroking her hair back and reassuring her they were safe. Reassuring herself they were safe, that the fight was over.

How were they supposed to live normal lives now, never knowing a normal other than conflict and war? It was exhausting, to say the least, so the prospect of pursuing another mission brought a strange sense of calm. Having a task to complete, with a clear line drawn for success or failure, a goal to accomplish… that they could work with. Brightmoon forces had their hands full reestablishing trade routes, and Glimmer had insisted they stay out of it, and take the time to relax and recuperate. It was driving them both a little stir-crazy, itching to get into the war room and sit in on meetings, even if it was difficult to concentrate on the map of Etheria when they kept distracting each other.

Little touches, the brush of Catra’s tail over her leg, arms bumping where they sat next to one another. It didn’t make anyone else in attendance uncomfortable, long used to Spinerella and Netossa flirting over planning sessions, just not quite as hopelessly obvious as the two former Horde members. Netossa had teased them, calling them lovebirds, asking if the meeting was distracting them, if they needed some “alone time”, and they had had the wherewithal to be embarrassed at least but not at all ashamed otherwise when Catra seated herself square in Adora’s lap to listen to Glimmer talk about sending an emissary to Dryll to help reopen the kingdom in Entrapta’s absence to the Fright Zone.

Adora smirked at the memory just as she felt Catra shift, turning her head to press an absent kiss to the top of her head. She lifted her face in response, brushing her lips over hers in a casual display of affection, leaning up after a moment to kiss her fully. She was still ecstatic that she could just do that now, no fear or uncertainty freezing her heart in her chest. When she pulled away, she found Catra looking down to meet her gaze, heterochromic eyes alight with this soft expression that she didn’t think she could ever get tired of seeing on her face.

“Hey Catra,” Adora giggled, giggled , their food finished and set aside. She was warm and sleepy again from a full stomach, but with just one kiss her energy had been refreshed once more, restless and eager for some sort of action. Catra’s laugh in response was like music to her ears, a clawed hand lifting to cup her jaw with the utmost care, other arm sliding around her middle to pull her back in.

The sound of wingbeats and a greeting whinny made Catra startle, head whipping skyward to the sound. Adora reached a hand up to soothe her thumb over her cheek, saying,”Hey! Hey, it’s okay, it’s just Swift Wind.”

Sure enough, the pegasus was touching down in the clearing moments later, Melog darting out from the grass and racing to stand in front of Catra as his form shifted, large and red and hissing, hackles raised. Adora peeled herself away to stand up, stepping forward to greet her steed and hopefully placate the ruffled felines behind her. Swift Wind folded his wings back, shuffling his hooves nervously in place at the hostility behind his bonded partner.

Catra smoothed a hand back through her bristling hair, taking a deep breath in through her nose. Adora had turned, hand outstretched to her and Melog, her other patting Swift Wind’s neck.

“I’m not scary,” Swift Wind insisted, lowering his head, though the sunlight catching on the long, very pointy horn on his head potentially betrayed that statement. Melog’s “fur” shifted slowly back to blue, and Catra stood up from where she had been glued to the spot. She took a few tentative steps forward, before placing her hand in Adora’s, only to yelp as she grinned and yanked her forward. She put Catra’s hand on Swift Wind’s nose, the both of them startling, but Adora’s hand on his neck and hold over Catra’s hand seemed to calm them both.

The first friendly meeting between Catra and Swift Wind had been less than ideal. His loud, bombastic energy had been very sudden and surprising to the standoffish and aloof girl, and his oddly charming jealousy at her relationship with Adora had led to an amusing argument between them about his and Adora’s “sacred bond” as She-Ra and noble steed. Adora hadn’t been able to help but burst into laughter at the display, and since then a sort of truce had been found at least. But Swift Wind being Swift Wind still meant he was loud and energetic and didn’t often make his entrances subtle enough not to spook her and Melog, meaning most of the time Adora had to play mediator for a couple of minutes to calm things back down again.

He huffed out hot breath from his nose on Catra’s hand, and she pulled it back with a light hiss, wiping it off on her pants. Adora smiled, shaking her head before saying,”Think you two can play nice long enough to make it to Mystacor?” To get away from the castle and further enjoy their vacation of sorts, they’d decided to spend the day at Mystacor. The beach had been incredibly relaxing when Glimmer and Bow had taken her, and it being made of clouds rather than ocean, she hoped it would help Catra find some peace as well.

Castaspella had insisted they were all welcome any time, and Adora planned on using that to her advantage. They had packed for the trip the night before, bags waiting up in her-- their room, ready to go.

“As long as he doesn’t drop me,” Catra grumbled, folding her arms across her chest, tail flicking back and forth as she glared up at Swift Wind. He puffed out his chest, drawing his head back up to his full height, saying,”I would never!” Adora rolled her eyes and patted his flank once, before taking Catra’s hand in hers, saying,”We’re just gonna go grab our stuff, ok Swifty?” He gave a salute with one of his wings, before settling down to eat some grass during the wait for their return.

“Isn’t there another way to get to Mystacor?” Catra groaned as she let Adora walk her back up through the castle halls, passing a few guards along the way with a nod. Adora arched a brow back over her shoulder at her, replying,”If you’d like, I could ask Glimmer to teleport us there…”

Catra frowned at that, not a fan of the Queen’s teleportation magic. In that short moment of transdimensional relocation, her righting reflex was thrown off by the second of there not being an up or down sense. Just the memory pitched her stomach, and she swallowed down the nauseous sensation with a shake of her head. Swift Wind knew the way, and it would cut their travel time down by more than half.

“No-- ugh, fine, whatever,” Catra conceded with a shake of her head, before falling quiet again. Her eyes drifted down to their linked hands, smiling softly to herself after a moment, only letting go once they were at their room doors.

“You’ll be fine,” Adora insisted, going to where she had two packed bags waiting packed by the wardrobe. “I’ll be with you the whole time, and Swift Wind really won’t drop you. I promise.” She slung one bag over her shoulder, and turned around to hold the other out to Catra, who approached with a huff and slipped her arms through the straps. She gripped them tight to ground herself, still pouting at the prospect of riding around on that thing .

“Seriously, it can’t be much different than when you ride on Melog’s back,” Adora said, circling around in front of her, a reassuring smile on her face. Her hands went to cup Catra’s face, gently at first before her grin turned teasing and she squished her cheeks between her palms. Catra slapped her hands away with a snort, only for Adora to catch her wrist before she could pull away completely.

“Hey. I mean it. You’ll be alright,” Adora reassured her, much less teasing this time as she took her hand in both of hers, squeezing gently. She took a step closer, cradling her touch to her chest like a precious gem between them. Catra bumped her forehead to hers with a low sigh, taking a deep breath after to further steel her nerves.

“Ok. I trust you,” Catra exhaled, before guiding her closer with her hand in hers, her free arm draping around her waist. Even as her eyes closed, she could practically feel Adora’s smile, especially so when they both closed the gap further.

Catra was always wary of her fangs when they kissed, worried they would catch on Adora’s soft mouth. She would be tentative, not wanting to hurt her more than she already had in the past. Adora didn’t seem to have any such qualms, sighing happily into the embrace and leaning fully into it. Her lips were insistent against Catra’s, seeking out her warmth and comfort, grinning still.

“Mmmh…”

Catra’s ears fluttered at the noise from the other girl’s throat, feeling a pitch in her stomach completely unrelated to any memory of teleportation. Carefully, carefully, she opened her mouth slowly, inviting Adora to deepen the kiss if she desired. An offer that was quickly snatched up, though she didn’t know why she bothered being surprised anymore. Adora was reckless and impulsive and often acted without thinking, but at long last she finally seemed to be thinking about what she wanted. It just so happened to be Catra, a fact that had her heart soaring.

“C-Careful,” Catra gasped, muffled, feeling her tongue skirt along her lower lip,”S’sharp--”

“I know,” Adora hummed, pulling back just enough to reply before tipping her head and diving back in. Heat flared up the back of Catra’s neck, and her hand around Adora’s middle clung onto the material of her shirt, getting lost in the sensation of Adora’s tongue in her mouth, her lips on hers, dizzying and overwhelming almost all of her senses from a kiss alone.

Her knees were just starting to go weak when they separated, a goofy smile on Adora’s face when Catra’s eyes opened to look at her in still mild disbelief. Hand still in hers, Catra could feel how sweaty Adora’s palms had gotten, and it was a small comfort to know they were both still getting used to this, together.

“Come on, better not keep Swift Wind waiting too long.”

- - -

Adora didn’t do anything to try and loosen Catra’s death grip. Turned out, riding on Melog’s back on the ground was very different from soaring through the air on a winged horse. She had both arms wrapped crushingly tight around Adora’s middle, pressing her face into her back, her claws nearly tearing through her top where she clung to her shirt. Touching down along the coastal edge of Mystacor’s floating island was a godsend, but she still didn’t move, clinging to Adora like a cat stuck in a tree clinging to a branch.

“Catra, we’re here,” Adora said tentatively, reaching a hand down to pat one of her arms squeezing around her waist. When Catra didn’t lift her head up, hissing, Adora sighed and slid down off Swift Wind’s back. She looped her hands under Catra’s thighs as she hopped down, holding her on her back, Catra quickly adjusting her hold to go up around her neck and shoulders, yanking her off-balance a moment before Adora righted herself with a grunt. Between their bags and Catra hanging off of her, it was a bit difficult to maneuver, but taking a second to reaffirm her grip made it relatively simple enough to start the walk towards the beach.

Castaspella normally would have greeted them at the runway, on any other day, but since Horde Prime’s occupation, everyone seemed to be busy with rebuilding efforts. Hopefully that meant they could enjoy their beach day relatively uninterrupted. It was hard to fight the desire to go and check in and ask if they needed any help, but today was supposed to be a day for her and Catra to spend together and relax. About halfway through the walk, Catra finally lifted her head up, looking around them in surprise. On the one side, the secret magical college of Mystacor; spires reaching even further to the heavens they floated above, and on the other, rolling tides of clouds as the grass under foot turned to pure white sand.

“Whoa…” she breathed, her tensed shoulders relaxing a bit as she stared out at the pink and white waves. Adora smiled, breathing coming a bit harder, a loose strand of hair falling in front of her face as she found a good spot to set up. Well, as good a spot as any. This was really only her second time coming to the beach, so she wouldn’t consider herself an expert.

When she stopped, Catra hesitated before finally loosening her grip and sliding off Adora’s back. The sand beneath her feet felt so strange, curling clawed toes in the grains experimentally as she crouched down. Melog hopped out of her bag, returning to his full size now that they were no longer in transit. He shoved his snout into the sand, only to pull back with a start and sneeze, parroting one of Catra’s sneezes before shaking his head rapidly. Adora smiled to herself, laying out a large beach towel from her bag before she sat down on it, kicking off her boots and stuffing her socks in them. She pushed her feet into the cool sand, peeling off her jacket and loosely hugging her knees halfway to her chest, rolling up her shirt sleeves to better feel the warm sun and cool breeze on her skin.

Feeling Catra’s eyes on her, she turned her head to confirm she was indeed staring, and shifted slightly where she sat, blush coloring her cheeks. Adora reached up and tucked that stray lock of blond hair behind her ear, shoulders curving upward as she looked away, asking,”W-What?”

“N-Nothing! Nothing, I just-- you--” Catra started, stumbling over her words, having been caught being very obviously transfixed. Normally Adora couldn’t relax to save her life, but here she was reclining on a beach, enjoying the sun and fresh air, seeming at peace and calm and it… it looked good on her, ok? Catra wouldn’t mind seeing more of it. Seeing her happy, a soft smile on her face. Blushing herself, Catra scratched the back of her neck lightly, before she slunk over from her crouch to join her on the large beach towel, obviously brought with the intent for them to share. She bumped Adora’s shoulder with her own, stretching her legs out in front of herself, one crossed over the other as she leaned back on her arms.

“... This is nice,” Catra said, feeling Adora relaxing again at her side now that she had joined her. Adora sat up, only to lean back on her arms and mirror Catra’s posture, placing her hand on top of hers. Catra tilted her head, resting it on Adora’s shoulder as they both watched the clouds roll in and out, lapping at the shore lazily. Adora hummed her agreement, tipping her own head to rest atop Catra’s, basking in the moment.

It was a good way to spend the day.

[sanders-sides-reverse-au]

Life’s too short to be dancing with the devil

Life’s too short to be dancing with the devil

You best sleep with a blanket and a shovel

Cause life’s too short to be dancing with the devil

A short lyric comic cause I was feelin it yknow

[shesquiinnsane-ar]

Life's too short to be dancing with the devil. Life's too short to be dancing with the devil. You best sleep with a blanket and a shovel 'Cause life's too short to be dancing with the devil. HARLEEN QUINZEL || NEO-JOKER

Where am I? My hands are tied. Turn on the lights and I see you standing Over me It's hard to breathe I can't believe that you'd do this to me. Years of us building the trust up, no love was ever enough I'm foolish to think we were friends It's funny how it ends. You know! When times get tough you always give up! I know! Your smoking gun's the tip of your tongue You take your aim to point the blame It's time we let it go! So save your lies behind those eyes you're a devil in disguise. Now it's time to pay the price no playing nice when you live so selfish! Have a drink and make a scene embarrass me 'cause you're lost and hopeless!Years of us building the trust up, no love was ever enough I'm foolish to think we were friends It's funny how it ends.... And You know! When times get tough you always give up! I know! Your smoking gun's the tip of your tongue You take your aim to point the blame It's time we let it go! So save your lies behind those eyes you're a devil in disguise..  You try to act as if you're saving me                           But you wouldn't cut the rope if it was hanging me I'm sick of people saying what you sow you reap                           'Cause I've been counting down the minutes of that, so to speak Think of all the hours and hours of grind                           that would it turned into sour findings As I wonder if our resigning                           is becoming the silver lining But I'm not a coward, I'm fighting                           'cause if they're the meat, then I'm biting Go ahead ignoring and smiling 'cause I'm climbing till I let you know when times get tough you always give up I know! Your smoking gun's the tip of your tongue You take your aim to point the blame. It's time you let it go! So save your lies, behind those eyes                            ----you're a devil in disguise 

[memeingovermemes]

dancing with the devil -- starters:

❛ where am i ? ❜

❛ my hands are tied . ❜

❛ turn on the lights . ❜

❛ and i see you standing over me .❜

❛ it’s hard to breathe . ❜

❛ i can’t believe that you’d do this to me . ❜

❛ years of us building the trust up . ❜

❛ no love was ever enough . ❜

❛ i’m foolish to think we were friends . ❜

❛ it’s funny how it ends . ❜

❛ now it’s time to pay the price . ❜

❛ no playing nice when you live so selfish . ❜

❛ have a drink and make a scene . ❜

❛ embarass me ‘cause you’re lost and hopeless . ❜

❛ you try to act as if you’re saving me .❜

❛ but you wouldn’t cut the rope if it was hanging me . ❜

❛ i’m sick of people saying what you sow you reap . ❜

❛ i’ve been counting down the minutes of that, so to speak . ❜

❛ think of all the hours and hours i’ve grind that have turned into sour findings . ❜

❛ it’s a wonder if our resigning is becoming the silver lining .❜

❛ but i’m not a coward - i’m fighting . ❜

❛ ‘cause if they’re the meat , then i’m biting . ❜

❛ go ahead ignoring and smiling . ❜

❛ ‘cause i’m climbing ‘til i let you know . ❜

❛ you know when times get tough , you always give up . ❜

❛ i know your smoking guns , the tip of your tongue .❜

❛ you take your aim to point the blame . ❜

❛ it’s time we let it go . ❜

❛ so save your lies behind those eyes . ❜

❛ you’re a devil in disguise . ❜

❛ life’s too short to be dancing with the devil . ❜

❛ you best sleep with a blanket and a shovel .❜

❛ ‘cause life’s too short to be dancing with the devil .❜